AN: So, looks like my first fanfiction will be from my attempt to jump on the RumBelle bandwagon. I'm not quite good at saying anything about what I've written, so... I guess just keep in mind that, yeah, I am a new writer, so don't slaughter me too much? Please? Much appreciated, dearies. Reviews and touches of constructive criticism are much appreciated, though. No beta or proofreading from anyone but myself. Consider this my apology for any mistakes in spelling and grammar that you may find.
Disclaimer: As much as I would enjoy owning these characters, their stories, and their worlds, I don't. ABC does, so no money or profit of any sort is being made from this.
There was once a man that had nothing but one person in the world. He only had a son. Like everyone else, that son left him. Friendless, alone, but imbibed with the strongest power in the lands, the man slowly slipped away into a sort of madness.
He remembered the first day he saw her as more than just a housekeeper. She was dressed in a simplistic blue dress and peasant's frock that he'd conjured for her. It was a nice accent, he'd thought, to her; cool, calm, collected. He could lie and say that he no longer wished to see her, no longer wished to watch her through the vines in the garden.
Yet, regardless of all things said and done, Rumplestiltskin was no liar. He made deals, played with words, and made everything confusing, yes, but he never lied. Unless absolutely necessary for protection, of course.
With every passing day, he became less and less of a human. The madness, the insanity... it was his curse. All magic comes with a price. Higher magic, like his, comes with two prices, though.
His first price was his sanity.
Even in this new world, lies were not told. He would happily toe the lines and mask the truths as much as he needed, of course. There was still a job to be done and deals to be struck. Always to his betterment, though.
His tired, drawn eyes stared back through the vines, at the pair sitting on the opposite side of the barrier. A small child and a young woman. Grace and mischief, he thought. Even still, he paused to consider her words. Was he mad? Insane?
It really depended on who you asked.
A year passed. Still no son. Still no friends. Still no love. Until, one day, a girl was bought from a man; a princess from a king. She was taken in exchange for her village's protection. Brave, was the girl. Kind, too. Yet, out of all her qualities, the strongest, and most admired, was her ability to love.
The girl truly was beautiful. It was as though the beauty of her heart radiated through her very skin, for all the world to see.
Yes, she was beautiful. All the qualities befitting a regal princess that, for all intents and purposes, had no right to be where he'd put her. He'd had no right to her, no right to own her. None the less, he did. Now, listening to her story of the tale, he felt the heart he thought had long died and fallen to dust, clench in pain.
In guilt.
The beautiful girl was brought to the creature's castle, "Estate" he called it, and instructed to clean. She was to be his caretaker. As in all these stories, something memorable must happen to make a change. Something must happen to make the two characters realize how they, themselves, had changed.
Those bloody curtains of his, of course. He scoffed at the memory. He'd hated the damn things, but they were effective, so he had left them as was. After he had felt her in his arms, though, especially after she'd worked so very hard to pull them down, he never quite had the heart to let her go through the trouble of putting them back up.
That was when, he recalled, he had first realized he did still something of a heart inside himself.
The girl didn't know what to make of him letting her go. The small trip to town spoke volumes to her, but she didn't know how to translate the words contained in the meaning of it all. But it was on the way to the town that she thought she'd gotten her answer. The kind woman seemed to mean well, so she saw no reason to not trust her words.
It was then that the girl knew what she needed to do to show her bravery. She needed to show that she loved the man and the beast. Beauty had truly fallen in love with the cursed beast. With heart full of hope, longing, and dreams for a happy future, she hurried through her need to be in the town, ignoring the glares, whispers, and disdainful comments thrown at her, and hied for home.
Again, his heart clutched painfully. He had never known, not for sure, if she'd been lying or not. Now, he had his answer. He did not, however, expect her story to end with only this. Tamping down on the hurt, he shook his head and looked back through the vines. The girl's profile was now nearly in view and the boy was facing his way.
Henry. Madame Mayor's son was her other audience member. Rumplestiltskin, (Gold, he chided himself,) did not find himself surprised. Only jealous. Jealous and envious that he got to sit there with her. But he did not deserve such a marvel, and he accepted it.
The kiss was all she'd hoped it would be and more. Soft, tentative, innocent... everything a girl her age could ask for. Her joy, at seeing his features become human, was soon dashed as he jerked away. He was violent and angry with her. He shook her until she became dizzy, leaving bruises that would take weeks to heal, on her arms.
He accused her of being in ranks with a queen. A queen she didn't know. Slowly, she understood, though. The woman she'd met had betrayed her. And now, because of this, the man she loved thought she had betrayed him.
This was the sign of the other price of his magic.
Everything in him went cold. Every nerve ending stopped firing off. He stood completely still. He couldn't even manage to breathe.
The beast, in his anger, threw her into the dungeon, cursing her for her womanly wiles and betrayals. She had to wait and wait in that cold, damp hole for what felt like hours. Finally, he entered. He was stiff, rigid, entirely devoid of anything even remotely similar to what the man she'd only seen a short time earlier. He told her to go, to leave. He claimed to have no desire for her anymore.
Righteous in her ire and broken heart, she stood up to him, as any woman scorned would. The beauty told him that he would have nothing. Nothing but a trinket of a memory and a cold, empty heart. She had every right to say those things to him, even if it hurt her to say them.
Like he had done when she had first spoken those words, his eyes slowly closed. He could see every detail on her face. The tears filling her eyes, threatening to spill over, were what stood out most to him. In the new world, the eyes opened slowly to find those very same eyes now looking at his own. She stared at him with a cold, heated gaze.
Everything was written in them. Every unspoken word, every cursed night of nothing but tears, every wail that had resulted in an eventual capture. This time, though, there were no tears.
Only the hardened truth.
For you see, Henry, the other price he had to pay was one he could never recover. One he could never accept. The beast believed he couldn't be loved because he was a monster and was ugly. But that wasn't true.
The beast was, and is, incapable and undeserving of love.
The second, and most precious price of all, was his heart.