I don't own these beautiful characters, just this adaptation.
Belle lightly drew her duster across the trinkets in the glass cupboard, careful not to knock anything over. She was very diligent in her work, one hand holding the duster and the other holding the shelf so she didn't fall over. She wasn't quite tall enough to reach the top shelf so she was standing on the lower-most shelf and reaching as far as her pale arms would allow.
"Be careful, my dear. Wouldn't want to fall, like the cup." Rumplestiltskin's voice trilled out behind her, making her eyes widen in a combination of surprise and delight.
Belle grinned and tossed over her shoulder, "You know, I wouldn't keep dropping things if you wouldn't keep surprising me." She finished dusting, then turned to climb back down to the floor. Rumple's hand was there, sparkling softly in the sunlight. She looked into his eyes as she took it, stepping carefully to the ground and shutting the cupboard behind her. She turned back to make another remark at her captor, but he was already across the room, carefully spinning away.
She walked over to the table, putting down her duster warily, so she didn't shake off any dust and have to clean even more later. She slowly glided over to his spinning wheel, admiring how he could pretend to ignore her. "Rumpy," her new nickname for him. "I want to hear a story."
He paused in his spinning, cocking his head to the side as if he'd heard a strange bird. His eyes still fixated on the wheel, he began to spin again. "And what sort of a tale would entertain a fine maiden on this cold, sunny day?" His voice had a slight lilt to it, an accent that the beauty just couldn't place.
"A sort of fairy tale. One with a dashing prince—" Rumplestiltskin winced, "—a beautiful girl, danger, and above all: love." She sighed, settled onto a stool next to the window. "A love story, Rumpy. Tell me a love story."
He spun several more inches of gold, til she was nearly certain that he'd not heard her. Suddenly his voice came across the room. "I know of one love story, so you can't ask for it again unless you just want to hear the same one over and over again." Belle nodded. He continued…
"Once upon a time, as all these stories begin, there was a truly beautiful girl, the fairest in all the land. She had soft curls, and lovely lips – and the sweetest voice. The prince of the story, oh when he heard her speak he thought he was in heaven. He knew that he had to have the maiden as his, but he discovered that she was promised to another. He plotted, and planned, and schemed for weeks, as the wedding of the sweet girl drew nearer. Soon, he thought of a plan, and he approached the girl's father.
"He knew of a thing that the father wanted – peace for his kingdom – and the prince knew exactly how to give it to him. If the father would but give the girl over to the prince, the kingdom would resume a calm life, a simple life, a provincial life. The father refused, but the girl overheard the proposition and followed after the prince.
"'I'll do it!' the princess shouted after him, chasing in her long gown. The prince stopped, and the girl caught up to him, panting slightly. 'I'll give myself for my kingdom.'
"The prince, pleased, went back to the king and gave him what he needed to bring peace back to his kindom – a lovely golden bird, who would calm anyone who listened to it sing. With the girl in his possession now, the prince took her away to his castle." Belle's expression went from rapt to confused, and was nearing a slight understanding of what the man was speaking of. He spoke faster, feeling a burning need to get his story out, to tell her, to make her see—
"The prince never revealed his plan to the girl, knowing that she would never believe it if she heard it – that he was truly in love with the maiden, had been in love with her for a very long time, before she even knew the prince existed. But the prince wasn't the traditional kind of prince – he wasn't in line for the throne of any kingdom, but in fact he was another type of prince. He was a prince of power, a man with magic, a different sort than the princess had ever encountered before.
"He was terrified that his magic would consume her, overwhelm her, and his desire for her would overtake any inclination of her own, so he kept his distance for a while. He gave her trinkets to encourage affection, but made her do the dusting so she understood that he wasn't completely a charmer. After a while, the prince wanted to know – no, he desperately needed to know – if his affections were returned, and so…" He trailed off.
Belle was staring out the window, watching a bluebird build a nest for its mate. She was nearly breathless when she whispered, "And so-?"
Rumplestiltskin swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I think that's enough for today." He began spinning again, his hands shaking slightly.
Suddenly, the beauty was next to him, her hand gently resting on his shoulder. He froze, his hand still guiding the wheel around, gold still spilling out of the end. "I need to know the ending of the story, Rumpy."
He looked up at her, into her gentle brown eyes and nodded reluctantly. "And so he told her." He looked down at her hand on his shoulder, relishing the warmth emenating through his thick sleeve. He knew he would not feel it again after this moment.
"And the girl…did she feel the same?" Bell asked gently, her thumb slowly rubbing over his shoulder. Rumplestiltskin looked up at her, feeling tiny and weak at his wheel.
"I—I don't know. That's for the girl to decide." And he was gone.
Reviewers get to learn how to spin gold.
