Disclaimer: Once Upon A Time and what/who you recognize aren't mine.
Chapter One: Proof Despite The Lie
The rose he'd given her that day, the day he allowed her to open the curtains and she poured tea into his chipped cup once again and had instantaneously set aside the book he'd been reading when she'd entered the dinning room that morning…. it was the most wonderful gift she'd ever received.
Maybe it was because she had not been born the daughter of a wealthy man but rather the child of a poor fisherman, growing up on the sea and diving for clams before she could read that Belle appreciated simple gifts rather then extravagant ones.
Perhaps it was because it wasn't a gift of gaudy jewels or expensive – yet very ugly – fabric given to her by false admires with oiled praise on their tongue and an additional motive lurking behind their eyes.
Instead the simple and beautiful flower was given to her by her master.
A master who presented it to her with sweet shyness in his voice and was attempting to stifle the hope in his slightly odd eyes as he held it out to her, as if he were unaccustomed to giving gifts and desperately wanted her to accept it – and yet was preparing himself for the rejection he was sure would pass her lips.
A master that makes jokes and increases the pitch of his voice to make her smile and laugh.
An employer that – although supposedly dangerous and depraved – never allowed her to venture into the sight of his more unsavory clients. One whom upon her third day of residing in his castle had given her a room of her own with tall, wide windows and that was filled with soft furniture and books, a fireplace, sunlight and color, a writing desk, as well as a simple and very pretty wardrobe all her own.
A master that always seemed eager to hear her thoughts on any subject, even took them into consideration and regarded them (and Belle herself by extension) with great respect – much to Belle's surprise for no man expect her father had ever considered her voice worthy of notice.
A master whose longing for human contact would revel itself when he would lean into her hands when they rested upon his shoulders or lightly grasped his arm, whom still grieved deeply for his lost son and was not a monster regardless of how he perceived himself.
A master whom Belle already cared very deeply for. She might even go as far as to say that she had fallen in love with him.
Belle takes the rose with her that night when she leaves the castle, Rumplestiltskins' lie and her own tear-filled angry words echoing in her ears.
She leaves the chipped cup sitting on the table, the shattered remains of the cabinet and the meaningless trinkets upon the floor glittering in the shafts of silver moonlight spilling through the windows.
They remind her of tears.
The soft velvet of the petal beneath her fingertips reminds her of the man down below, the one that is her True Love and still loves and wants her no matter what he claims.
Even if she had not kissed him, had not seen the green-gray hue of his skin receding and peach-pink taking its place as his curse began to break, this rose is proof enough of that.
TBC
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