She looked out a window of what had once been her father's war meeting room to see her son playing at sword fighting in the courtyard below. An older black-haired boy acted as his tutor, occasionally correcting his stance or handling of the wooden blade. The older boy looked somewhat familiar, but it was difficult to see his features from three stories up. Misha was growing up so fast; it would not be long at all before he demanded she use his real name instead of a nickname. She smiled blindly at the scene below, recalling the memory of the two week old who growled like a little bear cub when hungry, hence the nickname Misha…. Or Mishka as he was called as an infant: what she thought was Russian for teddy bear. Misha was ten now, the same age as Henry when he left Storybrooke to find his birth mother….
She switched memories, bringing up the sounds and scents of the last time she had stood in this room as merely a daughter. Then it had been filled with maps covered in war tokens and men in armor arguing one failed strategy after another; desperation, anger, and fear mixed into the odors of manly perspiration and metal. Until Rumplestiltskin had answered their cries for help and fixed it all. He had sent the ogres away, protected her people from them forever, stopped the fighting and the deaths…. And broke her heart….
Misha looked so much like his father would have at that age… the same brown hair, same brown eyes. They even ate soup the same way, hunched over the bowl so any drips fell back in rather than in their laps or on the table.
She had been as arrogant as any well loved yet spoiled girl could be. Arrogant and naïve to think that true love between adults was the answer to everything, the solution to any problem. How many times had she called him a coward? How he must have burned to hear that insult coming from the woman he loved. And yet he continued to love her, even as she pushed him away again and again.
In the dark times after his suicide and resurrection, through his resurgence as the Dark One she had wondered about his love for her. It wasn't the shining bright love of Snow and Charming, or even the more muted glow from Regina and Robin. It was an oozing, diseased, perverted kind of love, one more of manipulation and control than acceptance and understanding. But such simplicity of thought was the embodiment of her naivety and ignorance! Arrogant and ignorant indeed to think that he had been the only one in their relationship attempting to manipulate and control. She had fallen in love with a monster, married him knowing full well he was still a monster, and then punished him over and over for being true to his nature instead of the façade she had so carefully built around him.
She wiped away the moisture gathering in her eyes. This was not a time for reliving past mistakes. This was supposed to be a time to celebrate. She turned around to survey the room. Gone was the scarred oak table, chairs, and throne where her father had ruled over his council meetings. She had replaced them with a few study tables (or corrals as they would have been called at a university library) and shelves upon shelves of books. In fact, the entire castle had gone through a major refurbishing following her father's death two years past. With the exception of the ball room, the kitchen and surrounding work rooms, and the servants' quarters in the attics, every room in the castle had been converted into either a room for books or a room to study in. This new Library at Avonlea rivaled the Boston Public Library for the sheer number of books shelved in its stacks. And one day she hoped it would become as famous in the Enchanted Forest as the Library at Alexandria had been on Earth.
The dream for this library had begun immediately following Regina's discovery that she could create portals. As the exodus from Storybrooke back to the Enchanted Forest began, Belle had taken her platinum credit card for a workout buying books by the hundreds from online retailers. Novels, both serious and frivolous, engineering, medical, and science texts she bought without more than glancing at the titles. She skipped over the biographies and religious books as irrelevant to the Enchanted Forest. She spent the vast majority of her time deciding on which history and political science books to bring along.
Rumplestiltskin and Belle had assumed that there was going to be a political revolution once everyone had returned home. Spending more than 30 years in a country where, theoretically, anyone could grow up to become President rather altered ones views on hereditary ruling and serfdom. Snow and David had returned to their castles as king and queen regnant over two kingdoms, but within six months had felt obligated to set up a Parliamentary system for a more inclusive government. This led to more kingdoms reducing the absolute power of their monarchs and nobles or even eliminating the monarchy/nobility altogether. Belle's books on the Magna Carta, the French Revolution, the American Revolution and more, now housed here in the Maurice Room, had helped ease the transitions to more democratic systems of government.
A particularly loud "Oi!" turned Belle's attention back to the window. More children had joined her son, including a teenager with a bow in his hand and a quiver on his back and a younger girl, the source of the 'oi', angrily brandishing an arrow with one hand while displaying the hole in her doll, apparently caused by the arrow, in the other.
Belle sighed. The boy with the bow must be Roland which meant the black-haired boy must be Prince Neal. Which also meant their parents were already somewhere in the Library. And that meant a Royal Tour was either going on or was about to begin…. In either case, her solitude was soon to be at an end.
As for the girl…. Blessing was only four and she had a style all of her own making. Today she wore her long brown curls tied back in a single braid with about ten fuchsia colored bows woven into its length. She matched this with an apple red knee length tunic heavily embroidered with golden silk, brown trousers, and kelly green half boots. Abandoned somewhere in the grass would be her favorite violet velvet cloak. Even at four, she was already a force to be reckoned with, and Roland was backing away from the tot, apologizing profusely, as she loudly berated his carelessness. But when Blessing paused for breath, Roland darted forward, knocked the arrow from her grasp, picked her up, and proceeded to buss his face against her stomach until she burst into giggles. He slid the child down to a more comfortable position on his hip, and she showed him her magically mended doll. He shook the doll's hand, and kissed Blessing's cheek. She wrapped the doll's arms around Roland's neck as far as possible for a dolly hug, and then kissed him on the mouth. Not a kiss of true love: they were both far too young for that. But someday… someday in the not too distant future, Roland would start to wonder why he never felt more than liking for the girls nearer his age. And not too long after that, Blessing would start to wonder why she craved Roland's attention far more than the boys her age.
Blessing had the magical potential to rival Merlin and Rumplestiltskin for sheer power. A child born of True Love always had the potential to do magic; Blessing had started using hers before she could walk. The first few years had been harrowing; she required round the clock magical supervision to prevent idle wishes (and not so idle ones) from becoming reality. And while Roland was as brave as his father, his temperament was milder and calming to the more mercurial natured child. Having learned statecraft from his stepmother Regina, now a leading Member of Parliament, it was Foreseen that he would grow up to be one of the greatest Prime Ministers the kingdom would ever see.
Belle was so engrossed in watching the children she heard neither the distinctive click-clacks of stiletto heels nor the muted shushing of soft-soled boots crossing the polished floor. The first inkling she had that she was not alone was the velvety soft voice speaking in her ear, "They'll be good together. With her magical power and his political clout, they will have the world at their feet before she's 20. And with goodness to guide them, they won't abuse that power…." Left unsaid was 'the way I did'.
Belle turned, the polite smile she used at royal events showing on her face. "Regina, Robin. How good to see you." Belle had learned to trust Regina after being imprisoned, and even learned to like her. But they had never developed a true friendship. Robin kissed the back of Belle's proffered hand, and Regina and Belle air-kissed each other's cheek. Belle swiftly took in Regina's appearance. As always, Regina was wearing the latest fashion trend from the Capital: navy high-waisted silk pants and a billowing white shirt, the sleeves striped with the same navy silk as the pants. Her hair gracefully framed her face, strands of grey and silver and white streaking the jet. A few laugh lines had appeared about her eyes and mouth; Belle idly wondered if she was aging as gracefully, if grief had already carved its lines into her features….
Robin nodded genially, "You've done a wonderful job here. The library is spectacular. Your father would be proud." Belle smiled her thanks, not bothering to correct the archer. Maurice had been apoplectic the one time she had brought to his attention what she wanted to do with his castle. He had felt she should preserve it for Misha. As the grandson of a Knight, he was entitled to earn his own belt and spurs. And where his mother was friendly with the king and queen, it was not unlikely that he would receive the rank of baron or earl. And as such, he would naturally need a seat…. Maurice conveniently ignored that Misha stood to inherit a castle from his own father.
Misha himself wanted his knighthood as much as he wanted to become a painter, bard, orator, or engineer. Meaning, like most children of Earth, what he wanted to be when he grew up depended on the day. Just last week he had announced his intention to be a tinker. This morning, it was to return to Earth and be an astronaut. Belle just wanted good health and happiness for him, no matter what he eventually decided to do.
The rest of Regina's group entered the room, excitedly discussing titles found on shelves or artwork on the walls or events that had happened since they last met. Snow and David led the way with royals and nobles from a half dozen other countries following. Belle regally welcomed all of her guests and reminded them of the official opening ceremony to be held in the welcome hall later in the afternoon and the masquerade later that evening in the ballroom. Despite the beginnings of a headache, Belle mingled with her guests, reminiscing with old friends and making small talk about the library with strangers. After almost two hours, she made her escape, indicating a need to freshen up and change before the ribbon cutting ceremony.
Belle quietly closed the door to the room in the attic she had appropriated for her own use. Back in the day, this room would have served as a bedroom for anywhere between eight and ten maids. She had redesigned the room for the resident scholars who would start to arrive in the next week. It was simply furnished with two beds, desks, chairs, and wardrobes and currently contained the sleeping body of a little girl and her nanny. Belle dismissed the nanny with a grateful smile and sank into a desk chair massaging the back of her neck. Her head was pounding. Blessing lay nearly sideways in the bed with one bare foot hanging off the edge. Two of her hair ribbons had come loose and lay tangled at her nape.
The child was a blessing indeed. Belle thought back to when she first fell in love. Her feelings for Rumplestiltskin had evolved so quickly: from hate to not-hate, to cautious respect, to genuine liking, to more than liking. And yet through all of those emotions, she had barely scratched the surface of the man. She loved him, and it was a True Love, but she knew nothing about him, his desires, his needs, his wants. And in her naivety, she hadn't cared. Love was love and all that was important. He had sent her away, choosing power over love, and in return she called him a coward. Not once had she asked why he chose power, not once did she consider that there was more to the story. Even in Storybrooke she had allowed him to not answer why he needed power. Rumplestiltskin had broken down some of his self-imposed barriers to tell her about his son, but even then she had not understood. As she had not understood when he had stabbed his dagger into Peter Pan's body and into his own heart. As she had not understood when Rumplestiltskin absorbed Neil's mind and body into his own and gave up the dagger. As she had not understood when he had Hook entrap the Apprentice, the fairies, and tried to trap Emma in the Hat. Tears freely ran down Belle's face as she remembered his pleading, begging as his leg gave out on him when she forced him over the town line. And then the good memories came flooding in, their first kiss, their wedding dance. The first time they made love. The night they reconciled and Misha was conceived. The afternoon picnic when Blessing was conceived. When she had finally, finally, understood the love of a parent for a child and the incredible sacrifices one would make for the sake of that child. When she finally understood how a man would be willing to destroy his soul, give up everything, including his life, for the sake of his child. Her eyes felt puffy and sore, her throat hurt from muffling the sobs aching to escape.
She had started to understand after his return from Purgatory. She had been so… angry and upset at the way he left. And here he sat in Granny's Diner, for the first time in her memory looking old and fragile. Neil sat across from him, happy and exhausted, rescued somehow from the Dark One's Vault. She had taken them both home for showers and naps and quiet recuperation. She felt Rumple's eyes returning again and again to her slightly swollen abdomen, knew he was afraid that her answer would be 'Will' and even more afraid the answer would be 'you'.
But finally, he sat in their living room, armed for battle in his designer suit, with his dagger on the table between them. "Command me to tell you the truth, always," he stated. "Tell me 'No more lies, no more secrets', and even when I possess the dagger, I will be held to your commands…." When Belle made no move, he sighed and rubbed his face. "The first time you left me in Storybrooke, I asked Charming how relationships worked; he told me 'honesty of the heart'. Belle… I've never been good at…. I tell you the truth, always, but…"
She whispered, "You haven't given me the honesty from your heart." She watched his gaze dip to the floor in shame, then rise to rest on the baby bump before continuing their journey up to her face, noticing every change the pregnancy was making on her body. "Tell me now. Tell me everything without the dagger compelling you. If you can give me that honesty from your heart because you want to be with me, really be with me, then I will do as you ask. But I need to know…. Why did you leave me? Why?"
So he told her everything, leaving nothing of importance out. He started with meeting the seer on the eve of battle and smashing his leg. And continued through why he killed Zoso, why he sent her away from the Dark Castle, why he wrote the Curse and how he groomed Regina to be the one to cast it. He spoke of love and loss, regret and determination. He ended, hours later, by explaining why he had retaken the power of the Dark One. "When the shades of the Dark Ones marked us, I knew I had one final chance to rescue Baelfire from the Vault. But only as the Dark One would I be allowed to enter the Vault from Purgatory; I could exchange myself for Bae. Even if he wasn't allowed to rejoin the living, at least he would be free of that Vault. I sent you away, so you wouldn't have the burden of my death, that you would be happy and eventually free to find love elsewhere."
"And then Emma killed Hook, and I saw a better possibility, a way for me to rescue Bae, and return him to the living. But it still required my death. And then you came back to me, and I couldn't tell you…. I loved you too much, needed you too much…. I was so scared that when the time came, I wouldn't be able to do it…. I took your love for my courage. And I took his place."
Belle swiped her hands angrily over her face, a futile attempt to wipe away the tears. Memories. He was so afraid of dying, and she was afraid of being left alone with only memories.
She remembered him as he lay writhing on the floor this morning, lips blue, skin ashen with pain and clutching at his left arm. Gasping that he didn't want their children to see him like this, didn't want them to see him dying. She had sent servants scrambling, some to see to the children, others to the portal to find an EMT team to take Rumplestiltskin to Storybrooke's hospital. "Promise me," he had whispered, "Promise me you will open the library as planned. Promise me you will live on and be happy. Promise me you will love again." She had promised through her tears, but Rumplestiltskin was no longer awake to hear it.
The paramedics were calm and quick, but not encouraging as they moved him onto a gurney and wheeled him to the portal. It was most likely a heart attack; the doctors in Storybrooke would do everything in their power, but she shouldn't hold out much hope. He had been lucky to survive his first heart attack; most men didn't survive a second.
Belle stood behind the podium at the top of the stairs and smiled through her speech. Rumplestiltskin had selected the sapphire silk gown and asked her to wear it for him during the ceremony as the blue perfectly matched her eyes. A careful application of cosmetics diminished the swelling around her eyes and covered her tear stained cheeks. She smiled as she cut the ribbon and declared the library officially open. She smiled until her cheeks and jaw ached throughout the entire meet and greet. Not once did her smiles reach her eyes. And she hid her ever increasing anger as not one of her friends and acquaintances asked where Rumplestiltskin was. Not one seemed to care that her husband was not attending the most important afternoon of her career. He was dying or dead on another world and her friends only talked of her work, her children, their work, their children, and their spouse.
The same had occurred during all the times he was away from Storybrooke. She lived in his house, worked in his shop, collected his rent monies, but at no time did anyone ask about him. Not even to ask if she missed him. Or was she doing OK. There was no condemnation when she was seen going out with Will Scarlett, even though she was still married. Rumplestiltskin's absence was apparently not noteworthy in the least….
She stood in the middle of the ballroom, dressed in a wedding cake inspired outfit designed by Blessing (and color coordinated by Belle). Her white strapless satin dress had a pale pink ribbon around her waist and at the hem. Rosettes in the same ribbon dotted the skirt. And a tiny white top hat perched atop her curls with a bride and groom cake topper glued on to that. Instead of a mask, she opted for a short white veil to cover her face; as hostess her identity was out in the open from the start. In a few minutes the Master of Ceremonies would open the doors and her guests would stream in.
In her hand she held the response to a note sent to David earlier. 'Would you please open the ball with me?' she wrote. His answer was short, 'Of course. I'd be delighted to.' As king of the realm, he was more than qualified to take Rumplestiltskin's place at her side tonight, but, oh, how she wished it wasn't necessary.
And how she wished she had the ability to rip her heart from her chest! She wouldn't keep it out forever, like Cora had, but just for a few hours. Just long enough to get through this ball. A few hours of non-feeling would be bliss compared to this lumpy ache in her chest, the burn behind her eyes and nose, and an inability to swallow properly.
The MC cleared his throat; it was time. Belle straightened her back and shoulders, lifted her head, and installed the perfect smile as he pulled open the ballroom doors and loudly announced that the masquerade was begun.
Snow and Charming were among the last to enter; he was wearing a plain black domino which did nothing to disguise his bearing, height, or identity. He left her at the side of the dance floor and went straight to Belle. "May I have the honor of this dance?" He bowed gracefully and Belle sank into an elegant curtsey. She allowed him to pull her to a standing position, the music swelled, and he led her into a waltz. After a few bars, men started leading their women onto the floor to join them. As hostess, Belle was heavily sought after as a dance partner; her partners congratulated her on the success of the opening, the opulence of the ballroom, the excellence of the music and food, the variety of books upstairs, and so on. Endless compliments that did nothing to fill the hole in her life, in her heart. In between sets she exchanged meaningless pleasantries with the ladies, hunted down partners for wall flowers, ensured the buffet was adequately stocked and the drinks cold. And she calculated how long she needed to stay in the ballroom before she could plead exhaustion and leave this place.
The night wore on, midnight came and went, and her guests showed no signs of wearying. Belle stumbled through yet another dance, exhaustion setting in and her pasted on smile cracking. This particular dance was rather energetic with the ladies being passed from partner to partner, each time being hoisted high in the air and whirled around. Belle spun into her new partner's arms, a short older man wearing no costume, no mask. For a moment her world spun out of control; she fainted gracelessly.
She came to lying on a couch in one of the reading rooms, Rumplestiltskin kneeling at her side and gently patting her face with a cool wet cloth. "Hey," he whispered as she opened her eyes. "I'm well, sweetheart."
"The paramedics said you had a heart attack…" she whispered back. She sat up and caressed his face with both hands. "You're well? You're healed?"
Rumplestiltskin turned his head to kiss each palm. "Yes, I'm well. The paramedics were able to keep me alive long enough for Dr. Whale to tell me how to fix myself. And then he wanted to keep me in the hospital overnight for observation. I figured midnight was long enough, and I came straight here. To you."
Belle started crying again. "I thought you were gone. I've spent the whole day smiling to the children, to my friends and guests, and inside I was screaming, crying, trying to figure out how I was going to live without you!"
"My darling Belle… I'm here now…" He gathered her into his arms and gently rocked back and forth while she wept in his arms. "I'm not going to leave you… Not for a long, long time."