"I always wanted to be brave. I figured, do the brave thing, and bravery would follow."

Brave. Brave. Brave. Belle repeats the word in her head for the millionth time. She reminds herself that she is a princess, she reminds herself that she is strong, she reminds herself that she is…

Brave. Brave. Brave.

They used to call her names. Laugh at her. Poke fun at her. All her so-called 'friends', that is. 'Look, there she goes, that girl is so peculiar…she's nothing like the rest of us, that Belle! There's no denying she's a funny girl – a beauty but a funny girl, that Belle…' Huh. 'A funny girl'. She used to think that was a complement.

Rumpelstiltskin's castle made her village look more then just very meek, as she used to think – some of the objects in here, Belle had never seen before in her life – and therefore gave the princess a new perspective: her world, her life before this one, was…small. Very, very small. She felt, now, that she had very much been like a fish in fishbowl, never exploring the real world. The real world, just like she'd read about in so many books. Places where the ocean touched the sky, places where the buildings towered into the clouds, places where the people had something to celebrate about, forever and always.

For some reason, even as she was 'trapped' here, she felt closer to the world then ever.

Brave. Brave. Brave.

"Well I do hope you're alright." Despite his being a recluse, the – 'man'? 'Beast'? – whom kept her here always wore work boots, and now Belle could hear them clicking on the freshly-scrubbed wood floor as he advanced closer to her. She sat now, alone, on the large table examining the cup she had earlier chipped. "Really. It's just a cup."

"It's not the cup. It's not the cup that's really chipped." At that, he sighed heavily, and sat down next to her. "I had a life once, other than this. But I wasn't happy…" She sighed, too. "Not like I am now." She looks into his tinted gold eyes. "Are you happy, Rumpelstiltskin?"

"I was. At one point in time." He starts. "His name was Balefire. I used to call him Bay. And I told you. I lost him."

"Your…your son?"

"Yes. My son."

Brave. Brave. Brave.

"I've always wanted children," she said. "Not now, but one day. I'm sure your son was beautiful and wise, just as you are."

"I'm not wise, dearie. And I'm certainly not beautiful."

"But you are," she whispered, and smoothed some of his wry hair away from his face. "You are very wise, and very beautiful, and very brave."

Brave. Brave. Brave.

"I don't think so."

"I do."

She leaned in to put her lips to his, and for a moment, he let her.

"Please," she murmured when he swiftly pulled away, and sprang up while touching his face. The full-on green-ity and hue of his big eyes were returning before her very eyes. "Why must we fight it?"

"Don't. Don't lie to me, Belle. There's nothing to fight."

"But there is," She stood up. "There is! You know there is! Why don't you believe that I love you?"

"I told you. No one can ever love me."

"No," she said simply. "I think you can never love anyone. But you have! You loved your son! You loved Balefire!"

"Don't you dare mention his name to me!" He roared, throwing his arms around. "I should never have told you that!"

Brave. Brave. Brave.

She put her still-steady hand on his heaving chest.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Shhh, now – it's okay…"

"It's…not…"

"Shhh – it is."

And it was.

Brave. Brave. Brave.