Author's Note: Iolite eyes is something I've called our daughter since the early 2000s, and then in late 2012 I started using it in my RumBelle stories as I wanted a unique way to refer to Belle's eyes. Like movie icon Elizabeth Taylor, Emilie de Ravin has "violet eyes" giving her an unworldly beauty. The word iolite is derived from the Greek word ios which means violet. Considering iolite has a special meaning in my family, including a special iolite ring my husband gave me on our wedding day decades ago, iolite felt like the right way to move forward adding something uniquely mine to my fan fiction. This story will be giving a nod to iolite's rich folklore.
Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, the eternal deal-maker trudges through the wintry night. He could easily use magic to transport himself back to his castle, but he reasons, "What's there? No one to get home to." He's collected a myriad of material belongings and untold amounts of magical artifacts, yet it's not a home. His beloved Baelfire is far out of reach. The Dark Castle is nothing more than a storage place for his body and the things he collected to fill the ever expanding hole in his life.
The fresh laid snow glistens like crystals scattered across the landscape. The tangible weight and crackle of the frozen precipitation help ground him. He hadn't much liked the slushy mess in his early life, since it heralded the need for rationing of food and supplies during Winter with a father, who was more interested in liquor, gambling and carousing with women than providing for his young son. Rumplestiltskin's attitude changed dramatically once Bae discovered snow. Through Bae's eyes, it was magical and awe inspiring – with no actual magic required to delight. His sense memory triggers the feeling of a weight on his chest. He vividly recalls his toddler with unruly brown curls straddling him as Milah snored beside him. "Papa, papa! It snow! Come see!" Unable to deny his lad, he reached for his walking stick and rolled out of bed shuffling after his son. Thus, on nights such as this, Rumplestiltskin pays homage to his son by embracing the 'magic' it created in his child's eyes.
Lost in thought, he doesn't initially notice the barely perceivable crushing of snow from steps behind him. There is a faint ping of a twig snapping under the pressure of the follower's step. Magic instantaneously flips the Dark One around to face his pursuer. In the same instant, he thinks, "What idiot dare stalk me?!" His breath catches in his throat when he views the creature intruding on his time alone with thoughts of Bae. His vision focuses keenly on the iolite eyes staring intently at him. His awareness slowly expands away from the entrancing eyes to survey the whole sleek black face and muscular body. Prior to becoming Dark One, he would have been paralyzed with fear facing a presumably ravenous panther... even though Rumplestiltskin's mind would note the feline in question is a wee bit on the small side. Instead, as Dark One knowing he cannot be killed, his curiosity is piqued.
The most curious thing about this creature are the eyes. He had seen other panthers before, but those had emerald green, rusty gold or sky blue eyes. As the moon shines upon them, there is an unmistakable violet tinge. Ignoring momentarily that the panther still could cause a painful injury if so inclined, Rumplestiltskin is lost in its eyes musing how he'd always had an affection for purple. After a few seconds, self preservation kicks in, and he decides to forgo the rest of his walk to magic himself to the castle. The creature seems to sense his thought and makes a huffing sound charging towards him leaping many paces in one pounce. He is startled into inaction by its advances, fully aware he'll have a bite to heal in a second. The bite, however, never comes as the creature lands with a thud at his feet rolling in the snow.
"What in the name of... ?" The Dark One takes in this sight with his forehead crinkling in confusion.
The panther eventually positions itself belly up, and Rumplestiltskin simply stares. He begins to step away, and its massive paw comes hammering down on his boot.
"Hey! I like these boots! And they don't need ventilation courtesy of your claws!"
Of course, he can fix the boots magically with barely a thought, but that's beside the point, he mentally grumbles. The panther squirms in the snow scooting closer to him again and rubs its head against his boot. Rumplestiltskin bites the inside of his lip to keep a stern expression, despite the amusement bubbling up inside him. He recalls various sheepdogs he'd known who did the same kind of antics to coax a belly rub. The panther lifts its head and looks at him with a perturbed impatient expression, then resumes rubbing against his boot. He is enthralled by the animal's sweetness and also perplexed by a sense of desperation emanating from it. He notes panthers are typically solitary creatures, yet this one is reaching out for connection. "Why?" Letting out a long overly exaggerated sigh, he looks around to ensure no other soul can witness him – the all powerful Dark One, cavorting with an overgrown house cat, then he kneels down.
His gnarled scaled greenish-gold fingers stroke the creature's fur downward from its chest as it makes contented noises. Despite himself, the Dark One smiles.
"Yes, you're a good..." he looks between the animal's hind legs and determines it to be female. "... girl. That's right, lass, you're such a good girrrl."
She seems to approve as she makes noises which strangely mimic his rolling R's. He mindlessly strokes her. It's been centuries since an animal has allowed him to pet it with such unabashed trust. His heart flutters with a giddy lightness which he can't decipher. He's missed this. Unexpectedly, she makes a sound between a growl, a hiss and a yelp, yet makes no attempt to injure him. Drawing his hand back, there is a semi-congealed crimson liquid on his finger tips and claw-like black nails.
"Sweetheart, what happened?" he croons trying to sooth her as he looks at her shimmering watery eyes. He has an unsettling realization he could drown in those iolite pools if he's not careful. A gem, as rare as she, tugs at his battered misused heart. Breaking eye contact, he shifts his gaze to find the source of the blood. The she-panther's black fur is damp and matted on her abdomen above her hip. Luckily enough, the wound appears to be primarily on the surface of her skin. A slight change in direction would have hit an artery, and she would have bled out. The wound is a clean slice indicating it was created by something man-made, perhaps an knife or arrow. Rumplestiltskin reasons the animal's quick reflexes saved her life. Still, her rib-cage rapidly compresses and expands as she pants due to her anxiousness and pain.
Purple magic flows from his hand mending the cut skin, and he adds a further enchantment to stave off infection. Her eyes drift closed for a moment as magic seeps into her body offering her relief. When finished, he rubs her ears as her eyelids slowly open beckoning him back to gaze at her in awe. He muses, to the lowbrow undiscerning observer, her eyes may simply be dismissed as run of the mill blue – nothing special, yet these ios gems looking back at him denote a being of unique value. Her irises dusted with a purple hue are dazzling. Those iolite eyes cut through his heart like not even the hardest of diamonds ever could.
He caresses the side of her face, and the she-panther licks his hand. He smiles at her tender demonstration of gratitude. After a moment, the pleasant sensation gives way to an overwhelming desire for attachment. This need she triggers makes him feel off balance, and he abruptly pulls his hand away.
"Yes, well, I need to go. Off with you."
He strides away from her yet hears her heavy paws crunching the snow behind him keeping pace with his stride.
"No. Go home!"
Taking a few more paces he hears her keeping up with him.
"Look, it was lovely to make your acquaintance, dearie, but I don't need a pet. The Dark One is a solo act." He looks at her sad expression. Fighting every urge to take her with him, he commands, "Sit!"
She looks at him like he's the bloody imbecile he sees in his own mind. "She's not a dog, dimwit!" Still, he figures dog commands are as good as any, and repeats sternly, "You heard me, I said 'SIT!'"
She makes a huffing grumble but does as she is told.
"Good. Have a nice life!"
He walks forward fully aware she is again following him. He whips around to face her just in time to see her sit and look everywhere but at him.
"M'Lady, you are not fooling me for a minute. Stop this infernal pursuit! The Dark One has no need for a familiar." She turns to face him. Her iolite eyes forlorn and full of grief.
He swallows hard with his breathing becoming rapid. There's something about her that terrifies him. She makes him feel things. He's worked too hard to avoid feeling to fall into that trap again. "Go have a life. Find a nice male panther and have a litter of cubs." Her gaze is unabated. Before his will to leave her snaps completely, he croaks out the words, "Good bye, sweetheart," and disappears in a purple cloud.
Her feline voice emits a whimper of despair as she looks to the sky, her iolite eyes filled with liquid refracting the moon's glow giving her eyes a true gem like quality. A mist appears before her, and a woman with smokey blue eyes and auburn and gray hair woven into a long braid appears and smiles tenderly.
"You already know what you need to do. You don't need my meddling in this. Follow your intuition and heart. You've always been able to find your way. It's time to do it again. I'll be here on this astral plane watching and rooting for you. I love you."
The vision fades and the she-panther sighs and then begins her long walk with her destination vividly clear in her mind's eye.
Author's Note: So this story just came to me this weekend and demanded to be written... I suspect the forty-something degree weather at the end of April is responsible for my thoughts of snow. Do you get the feeling that when Rumple trained his pets, they train him too? One might expect that someone will have him wrapped around her paw soon. Please review... Guest reviews are fine. You don't need a FFnet account; I just like to read people's thoughts on my stories.
PS. The 'good girrrl' with the rolling Rs that Rumple said is a little gift for Floof Commissioner Terri. You're always there for me, so I hope you enjoyed the floofman thrrrill.