Rumpelstiltskin was waiting sitting on a rock.
He didn't like that place: dark, magic, but also slimy, cold, attractive and dangerous, as the person who was to meet. The water was dark, lit from time to time by the rays of a very bright moon that night. Its light cast shadows silver all around, covering the land with illusion and shades.
A weeping willow swayed due to a nonexistent breeze. The leaves seemed to whisper, his sighs seemed to hiss of children. In the distance we could hear the sweet song of a nightingale, but it seemed a song of sadness rather than recall.
"Do you hear it? This is not a normal chirping, is a nightingale. "
"Too bad the hunt is not open at night."
"How can you say that? Do not you feel how beautiful and sweet is this song? "
"Prevents me from sleeping."
"Oh, nonsense. One moment, there are others! One, two, three, four ... no, more, many more! And I'm so close ... how is it possible? "
"They'll have heard that they bother me and decided to come to complete their work under my terrace."
"You think you deceive me? Thank you. "
"You're welcome, dearie."
Rumpelstiltskin snapped his fingers and the bird was silent. But the silence was too overwhelming even for him, so he returned the nightingale voice, and it began its song. A white owl was watching him with his yellow eyes.
"What're you looking at, dearie?"
The owl flew away and he sighed. He had never bonded with the animals, but he liked to watch them as they approached shyly around her.
He noticed that the waters were rippling waves closer together.
"Rumpelstiltskin."
He didn't bother to turn around. He knew that the creature would not hesitate to come to his front for strut, and he wasn't wrong. The guardian of the lake was beautiful: long platinum blonde hair, skin as pale as a pearl, perfect features, tall and lithe like a rush of the river. Red lips were curved into a seductive smile.
"How long since you came to talk to me."
"I've been busy, dearie. And I'm afraid I am now too. "
"Would you like some 'of my water?"
He nodded. Personally, he didn't want to drink a single drop: only she knew how many corpses of young brave men who had been drawn to the back by the beauty there were in the bottom of the lake and the fact filled him with disgust.
"I'll make you a deal, dearie."
"Why? It would be much easier for me to drown you like the others. "
"Careful, dearie. You're not talking with one of those ignorant princes. An agreement is struck between two people who usually want something. "
"It seems disadvantageous. You have nothing that I want, the Dark Lord. "
"Nothing?"
Rumpelstiltskin took from his pocket a chain, from which hung a shell pendant.
The fingers of the creature stretched forward to grab it, but he withdrew his hand.
"I got it from the sea witch in exchange of so little. How old are you, dearie? Three hundred? In a short time you won't be able to get out of your water to lure the unwary men who come here without knowing. But with this ... you could make them die of their own accord. It belonged to a young mermaid and it was the most beautiful voice in the whole ocean. "
The eyes of the woman were greedy and cunning. She smiled again.
"Very well, you have something that I long. But I have more than one thing you may want. "
"I just want your water."
"Are you sure?"
She backed away, hiding in the shadows. Her reflection on the lake was slowly changing: wavy coppery brown hair, eyes as blue as a summer sky, pink skin and a sweet face, full of life.
Rumpelstiltskin heart clenched painfully. He had underestimated her. For a moment he couldn't breathe, and his mask of indifference shattered into a thousand pieces, leaving in sight his pain, making him vulnerable. His Belle came up and he raised a hand to caress her cheek. His brain was screaming that she wasn't Belle, that Belle was dead and that she was just the siren, but his heart had so damned need for that illusion.
"Belle?"
She smiled at him, not with seduction, but gently, as she did during her stay in his castle. She lifted her face to his so imperceptibly, and he bent down, like a puppet pulled by a string. He could see her lashes curled upward, her hair, lighter on the sides of the face, of the same color of honey, thousands of drops hanging from them like small diamonds. He felt the soft skin of her hands brush against his face, her hair rest on his neck. She smelled of water, wet leaves and sand. Rumpelstiltskin withdrew.
"Nice trick, dearie. But you are nothing to me. The only thing that might interest me is your water. If you'd kindly take it for me, dearie ... "
A beat of heart and she regained her true appearance. Her neck was red with rage and her eyes were as furious as the stormy sea, but she gave him anyway what he wanted in a small crystal vial.
"Here's your jewel, dearie. I am a man of word. "
The Siren fastened the necklace and gazed the shell.
"Do not come back for at least one century, Rumpelstiltskin."
"Did you really think I'd fall for, dearie?"
"'Go, go back to your life, then. But if you know she's dead, what do you have to come back for? "
He pursed his lips and turned away.
"I don't think it concerns you, dearie."
If he'd not had to find Bae, she would have been right. While bringing the water to the magical princess who desperately wanted to save her lover turned to stone by a bewitched river, he felt his soul tremble for the blow he had received. For a moment, he really believed that Belle was in front of him. But her skin smelled of roses and vanilla, not of sand.
"And since then you've not loved anyone? And no one has loved you? "