The Chipped Cup
Author's Note- No copyright infringement intended. I do not own these characters; I just like to play around with them.
He hoarded his treasures; there was no denying that fact. Every little bauble and trinket held its own place of honor. No dust collected amongst his items, and while there was clutter scattered about in every nook and cranny, there was not a single thing out of place.
It hadn't always been that way. Once upon a time, things had been strung around with nary a care nor wayward glance, and dust had been so thick, one could see the motes dancing in the light. That was before her. Before he had taken her from her father. Before he had fallen in love with her. Before he had driven her away with his denial of her love. Before she had died. Before….when he had lived a different life.
He was no longer the dark, scaly beast that had shown his ugly countenance freely to the world. All he had now was this shop, and his limp, and his tortured memories. Nothing mattered to him anymore. He partly blamed that Swan woman for that; until he had regained his memories of before, he had been content…mostly. Of course, that was denial on his part, but then again, when had he not loved in that state. He almost wished Emma had stayed away. It might have been better that way; he wouldn't remember her, or the pain of her death.
He paused before his cabinet, the one that held his greatest treasure, and opened it. Ignoring the hollow ache within his chest, he ran his fingers over the simple, chipped cup. "Belle," he said softly, ignoring how his throat tightened painfully. He picked the cup up and cradled it ginger between his slightly shaking hands. "Oh, Belle," he choked out, oblivious to the fact that tears were trickling from his eyes. He put the cup back slowly, then closed and locked the cabinet, his movements wooden and automatic.
All he had left was a chipped cup, and he would keep it safe until he no longer drew breath. It was the least he could do…for her.