This is a little something I've been playing around with in my mind. Inspired by Belle's facial expression the moment before she says "No, wait!" and her later claim that she had "always wanted to be brave." Oh, and her necklace. Tell me what you think, will you please? Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. May credit be given where credit is due.
~Redemption~
"It's her, or no deal."
Rumplestiltskin's words, though spoken in a quiet, eerily high-pitched voice, penetrated her ears like daggers. Fear coiled painfully in her chest.
Belle was almost relieved when her father commanded the deal weaver to leave.
"As you wish."
As the imp meandered towards the door, a memory, uncannily clear and sharp in detail, flew to the forefront of Belle's mind.
She was seven years old. She sat with her feet dangling over the edge of the carriage seat, her nose pressed to the pages of a book of fairy stories. She had long abandoned trying to read the words with the constant jerking of the carriage, resorting instead to simply gazing at the pictures that preceded each chapter, allowing her mind to weave accompanying tales. As the skies darkened outside, she leaned her face closer to the pages, a line forming between her brows as she strained to make out the painted figures.
"You'll lose your sight by twenty if you keep that up, darling."
Her mother sat across from her. Dressed in a pale blue frock, she glowed in the moonlight seeping though the carriage window. A delicate pearl dangled from a gold chain around her neck. Auburn curls framed her fair face; her plump, pink lips formed a gentle smile.
Belle pouted, the line between her brows deepening. Her mother laughed, the sound ringing in the stuffy carriage air like wind chimes in a summer breeze.
"We've only a few more hours before we reach Avonlea. Then you can read properly by candlelight, my little bookworm."
Belle lowered the leather-bound tome to her lap with a disappointed sigh. They had been traveling for two days, having spent the last three weeks at Aunt Corinne's castle in Enderbree. Aunt Corinne's husband had perished from fever a month earlier, leaving behind his two sons and heavily pregnant wife. Belle and her mother had gone to pay their respects and stayed to assist with the birth.
Belle was relieved to finally be going home. Her head still hurt from where those little boy-devils had pulled her hair. Sighing again, she leaned back against her seat, allowing the rocking carriage to lull her to sleep.
She was jarred from her slumber by a piercing shriek. She barely had time to realize that the sound had come from her mother before she was thrown from her seat as the carriage dangerously lurched sideways. The world froze as the coach teetered on two wheels.
With a crash and the shattering of glass it landed on its side, and then its roof, rolling over once, twice...
The carriage door swung open. As though hooked by an invisible force, Belle's mother flew through it. Belle's scream was cut short as her back collided with the edge of the seat, knocking the wind from her lungs. The carriage somersaulted once more before coming to a halt on its side.
Trembling, a warm substance running down the side of her face, Belle slowly pulled herself into a sitting position. Through the shattered window below her she could see that the coach had landed precariously on the slope of a hill. She heard their caravan's guards yelling.
"Ogres! They've rigged the road!"
"The frontlines must have shifted!"
"Belle! Belle!"
Her mother's panicked voice punctuated the men's shouts. Belle wanted to respond, to scream, to cry, but her voice seemed to be lodged in the tight knots of her stomach. She heard grating, inhuman roars in the distance. She curled into the corner of the coach, hugging her knees to her chest.
"Your Highness, please, we must flee!" One of the guards shouted.
The carriage door wrenched open above Belle's head. Her mother's face appeared, scratched and dirty, her eyes wild with terror and urgency. Lying on the outside of the coach, she reached her arms inside.
"Belle, darling, take my hands. I'm going to pull you out."
The roars and snarls grew louder, closer. Her mother looked away, into the distance, her face blanching. Belle hugged her knees closer, terror welling up inside her chest.
"Belle, please, take my hands!"
Belle slowly stretched her arms towards her mother.
"That's right, just a little farther!"
Her mother's hands clasped her own, pulling her to her feet. The carriage swayed slightly from the shift in weight. Belle cried out, curling into herself once more.
"Belle, please, I need you to be brave; can you be brave for Momma?"
Crying now, Belle reached again for her mother. Her mother's hands clasped her own, lifting her up towards the door.
"Good girl, we're almost-"
A massive club flew through the air, knocking her mother off of the coach with a sickening crunch. Belle fell back into the carriage, sending it tumbling down the rest of the slope. Her head crashed against the carriage wall, and the screams and roars faded into nothingness.
When Belle regained consciousness she was in her room, her head heavily bandaged and her left arm in a splint. It hurt to breathe. Her father wept.
Belle did not ask about her mother's fate. The sorrow in her father's eyes and the delicate necklace he clutched in his hand were answer enough.
...
She wore that necklace every day since the tragedy. It was her penance, a constant reminder of what her cowardice had destroyed: her mother's smile, her laugh, her kisses in the morning, her stories at night... Her mother had requested bravery, and Belle had cowered in fear.
"No, wait!"
She would not make that mistake again. This time she would deliver. And the necklace she wore would no longer be a punishment; it would be a medal.
Belle approached the imp, envisioning her mother's outstretched arms, that frightened, pleading look in her eyes.
"I will go with him."
Rumplestiltskin would be her redemption.
A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!