The curse had been lifted for a single year. Peace had returned to The Enchanted Forest, and Rumpelstiltskin had been restored to the life he had known and the love he never thought he would have again.

His son Bae had taken up a small cottage on the edge of his Papa's wooded, wintery kingdom, and was living there contentedly with his new bride Morraine; they had fallen back as easily together as two childhood friends, and time had seen them more in love than Rumpel had thought his now 28-year-old son capable of. He could feel the presence of a new life, blossomed from the young couple's love. It grew in Morraine's belly, turning and growing like a seed shifting in newly-tilled earth. He sighed at the hope it brought him, the hope that new life promised every day in The Enchanted Forest.

Belle had brought a light to his life that he could never have dreamt of. She'd been living with him in his frigid palace, but every day she stayed with him brought a deeper thaw to the castle and its grounds. The life around and within his domain was more deeply restored with each look, each touch, each smile Belle gave him.

Golden. Rumpelstiltskin felt truly golden on this day, and it was this day that he had decided to stay golden for the rest of his years, however long they may be.
"Belle," he said, that morning, over their morning porridge.
Belle looked up curiously from her bowl; her expression always looked like she never knew what would come out of this funny little man's mouth.
"Would you mind taking a stroll with me, before our afternoon tea?"
Her spoon of porridge paused before it reached her lips, and she smiled across the table at him. "Sure!" She motioned to the windows, which were brilliant with morning sunlight. "It's such a beautiful day out. A walk would be lovely."
Rum's heart thrummed in his chest nervously, and he tried to push the rest of his breakfast past the knot in his throat.
"Oh," he breathed in an odd tone, then—clearing his throat—tried again, "Would you mind very much wearing that golden gown for our stroll, the one you wore on the day you first came to me?"
Belle's eyes examined him curiously, but she nodded. "Of course," she agreed, then—unable to help herself—"May I ask why?"
Rumpel smiled, his teeth no longer the dull and dirty, but mischievous and wolf-like in their whiteness. "You'll see, love. You'll see."
Her compliance wasn't entirely necessary, but the color of the gown would complement the bauble most beautifully.

As Belle changed into her gown, Rumpel magicked his own scarlet vest and golden shirt into a gentleman's frock coat; the new garment fashioned of the same textured brocade as the old. He was ever-thankful that his skin had stayed normal, when magic had returned to Storybrooke. Even if the curse had taken away everything he cherished, he could thank it for giving him normalcy of appearance, if nothing else. His graying brown hair he left loose—Belle liked it best like that. Everything had to be perfect today. He prayed it would be.

After a stroll through the rose garden—which Rum had planted as soon as they'd returned to the castle after twenty-odd years in Storybrooke; the roses were enjoying the warmth of their newly-liberated, changed surroundings—Belle and Rumpelstiltskin retired to the parlor to take their tea.
Belle had always loved the parlor. With its opulent rugs and tapestries, she couldn't deny that Rumpelstiltskin had chosen the perfect room to house the strange treasures of his collection. A chipped blue-and-white tea cup with a simple design winked at her from its place near the window, where the trees allowed a dappling of sunlight. She still couldn't believe he'd kept it all this time.

Belle smoothed the yellow silk of her gown, and looked up to see Rumpel staring at her, wearing an expression as though he could cry.
Just as she was about to speak, he reached over and took her hand.
"Belle," he began, his voice trembling, "When you first came here with me, I didn't know what life could be. I didn't know that I had this"—he motioned to his face, to his body, to his heart—"inside of me." His brown eyes found hers, liquid silver as they were. "But you knew." He squeezed her warm hand. "And I don't know how you knew. I don't know what you did….But you've made me whole again."
Belle reached her free hand up, to brush the hair out of his eyes. "I simply loved you, Rumpelstiltskin." She smiled. "You're not that difficult a man to love."
Rumpel's eyes turned, as if the tears could flow at any moment.
"Oh, I love you too, you beautiful creature," his voice warbled, his confidence leaving him as he touched her cheek, "I love you too…"
He released her hand, and started to rise from his seat. But he took a knee instead, kneeling in front of Belle's chair.
"Ever since you came here, my life has never been as I once knew it. And after the curse, after you disappeared, and all through time in Storybrooke to now, your name has truly been your lasting glory in my life." He took up her hand again. "As soft, as beautiful, as clear as a bell, the echo of you in my life has never died. Your presence haunted me for twenty-eight years, and it haunts me still." Rumpelstiltskin's free hand reached to his pocket, and came back out with a small wooden box. "I never want to live without you, my dear."
Belle's breath left her lungs, her hands clasping to her mouth as if to hold it in. "Rum…" She found she was at a loss for words as well.
Rumpel opened the box, revealing a small golden ring—even the stone was golden; a yellow diamond glimmering in the indirect sunlight.
"May I have your hand?" he asked, his voice struggling to hold back the pleading earnestness of his heart. How long he had wanted this, to ask this, to have her.
And how long she'd desired this as well. From the moment her lips touched his at his spinning wheel, she'd wanted to be with him. "Yes," she answered, with all of her heart.
Rumpelstiltskin slid the ring on her finger, where the differing shades of gold sang against her peaches and cream skin, and his lips fell to hers. He whispered his love for her in breathless, sighing sobs.
He lifted her into the air, in jubilance and joy, his hands around her small waist, her hands on his shoulders. Rum couldn't believe she was his. His eyes looked up at her as if she were the sun itself, burning golden and bright.
Belle couldn't hold back the laughter that was trembling her lungs along with her blissful sobs, her heart had swollen so.

The Enchanted Forest was at peace. There was no war, no tyranny, no curse. Only blessings. Everything was golden.