Author's Note: Thank you all so very, very much for the reviews on Incapable of Love! So, after multiple requests to write a follow-up to it, I give you the first part of Rumple's tale. I completed this part while sitting in a hospital waiting room, so I sincerely hope the mistakes aren't too numerous. Reviews and constructive criticism points are requested and very welcomed!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and never will own anything in this world. All characters, names, titles, etc. found in this story belong to ABC, Disney, and other respective partners/owners.
Extra Note: Chapter 2 was added to this earlier this morning (just after 6 a.m. CST,) but the story refused to show it. Thus, I've re-submitted this, along with chapter 2, in hopes that it will work this time. If not, the link to my tumblr should be on my bio/homepage somewhere, and you can access this story, in its entirety, plus its predecessor, from there. My sincere apologies, everyone! Please forgive me and thank you, thank you, thank you for your wonderful patience.
Acclimating was a fairly slow process. No one knew this better than Isabelle French, the newest member of Storybrooke's small group of citizens. 'Isabelle, she often thought, with an inner sarcastic tongue, is not my name.'
Regardless of what the others, her recently made friends, thought, she was right. She knew. She remembered.
Belle remembered.
The only other people, that knew she remembered, were the young boy she'd met in the gardens of the park and the man she'd found out was known as Mr. Gold, in this world. She had snorted lightly when she'd been told; it was oddly befitting to the creature turned man, she'd found.
She had never made an attempt to approach him, after seeing him in the gardens about two weeks ago. She had barely even seen him, much to her pleasure. A pleasure, she'd found, also happened to feature a touch of chagrin.
Thus, it was by mere accident that she stumbled upon the wee lad and the older man. They were in much the same position as she had been with the lad, when she'd told her tale. Belle noted, uneasily, that she was in the same place Gold had been.
She wanted to turn and leave, but the soft tones of her once-master's voice kept her in place, locking her feet to the ground. The lilting tone of his brogue was softer, like a caress from a lover. It stroked the memory she had of what few words she'd heard him speak, as a man.
She did not want to admit it, but she had missed that voice. She had missed all of him.
Watching them, Belle decided to listen. She took care to remain as hidden as possible, being careful to be soundless. When she was certain he had not noticed another presence, she relaxed.
Then, as opportunity would have it, he begun his own tale.
As often is with these tales, there is a definitive beginning. This tale's beginning took place centuries before the main event. There was a man, an aging spinner that was willing to do anything and everything to protect his family.
This family was small, only consisting of his wife and small baby boy. That family became even smaller, once the wars had come to the edge of their village. The man was forced to enlist with the soldiers and leave his family behind. He fought and fought, but he knew that he would die there, that he would die and never see his wife's lovely face and his son's beautiful innocence ever again.
So, with that thought in mind, he ran.
The old spinner had been badly injured in battle, though. One of the many ogres had caught him and destroyed the muscle and knee in his right leg. The journey was a painful, long one, but he persevered.
Still hidden in the shadows, Belle thought back to when she'd once tried to get him to tell her the story about his son, about his own family and losses. Something akin to guilt was starting to form in the pit of her stomach.
Could this truly be the story she'd longed for?
It took the man a week to reach his home village, but he was too late. News of his fleeing had arrived before him and had put anger, for him, in the villagers' hearts. They only viewed him as a coward, never accepting the truth of his reason to return home.
They all told him his wife had left just a day before he had arrived. She'd just said she was going to the market to fetch him some straw, for when he returned, and she never came back.
The man's son had been abandoned, left alone and to fend for himself. Two years old, and totally alone now, save for a father that everyone hated. Soon, word began to spread that the boy probably wasn't even his. He refused to believe it. The spinner knew, sure as could be, that the young child was his.
Years passed and the boy grew. Each year, the man hoped his wife would return, never believing she'd left him for his cowardice. In his heart, he kept saying she was either dead or had been spirited away because she was as beautiful as the fae. He kept his faith, because he still loved her, no matter how much it hurt.
When the soldiers came to take his son for the wars, he did something desperate, something dangerous.
Something brave.
He took a sorcerer's power for himself. He took it to defend his son. But, as these things often go, the power took over and began to rule him. He lost control. He lost his ability to mold that power to his will.
He lost that small bit of humanity he'd had left.
Once he'd killed all the soldiers, in order to protect his young boy, that young boy ran. He fled from his father. The boy was too terrified to understand why his father had done what he had done, did not see the love in the actions.
So, the man was abandoned and alone.
The man had become a monster.
I know it's a bit of a hanger, but it's well intended. Just trust me, okay? I'm also sorry for how short it is. Please, do forgive me for it. I'll have the second part posted within the next week. I promise with a cross to my heart!
