Rumplestiltskin had been taking herds of sheep to graze in the fields since he was a wee boy. The task had become second nature, allowing his mind to wonder while a part of him remained alert and aware of the flock and its movements. But his mind was not a happy place, always full of worry about everything, from food and clothing to the looming threat of the Ogre Wars. His Bae was almost ten, still too young to be sent to war, but the battlegrounds grew closer and closer and the duke couldn't be bothered to protect their miserable little village. He lived in a state of constant fear over his boy, so young and full of promise. He deserved much better than the lot he got, but there was little the spinner could do about it other than work his fingers to the bone, sleep little and eat even less so he could give Bae a chance, even a small one.
A sheep bleated noisily, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. The spinner patted the old animal, whose wool was getting stringy and coarse, and decided to try and look for mushrooms. It was the season for them, and Bae loved them to pieces. While the sheep drank from the stream he picked up the mushrooms, his back protesting as he bent down to peer closely at the dirt and grass. He had a sizeable amount of shrooms, enough for a nice stew, when he caught the glimmer of something in the water. He approached cautiously, using his cane to keep his balance as he plunged a hand into the stream, grasping a cold, smooth object. When he managed to pull it out he saw it was a lovely teacup, tiny and perfect. It was white as marble, with gold on the rim and a delicate pattern in deep blue. Save for a notable chip it was in perfect condition, looking as if it was brand new. In all of his life Rumple had never seen something so beautiful, so gleaming and refined. He'd found a treasure.
With utmost care he wrapped the teacup in an old but clean rag and put it inside his satchel, eager to get back home and show Bae. The rest of the day seemed to drag on but at last the sun sunk low enough and he herded the sheep back to his little cottage on the outskirts of the village. It was a place reserved for outcasts, a place he'd earned, and certainly not somewhere Bae should be, but it was all he had to offer. Most days the sight of his home filled him with shame but carrying food and treasures he felt nothing but happiness. He greeted Bae with exuberance, taking the boy in his arms and lifting him for a hug, bracing himself against the pain, enjoying the way the boy laughed at being swung in the air.
"Who wants mushroom stew for dinner?"
Bae raised both hands in the air, smiling brilliantly. His father laughed, ruffling the boy's hair before placing the satchel on the threadbare table near the fire, opening it with care to take out the mushrooms and the tiny cup. It took ten minutes to have the stew simmering on the fire, so Rumplestiltskin took advantage of the free time to pull the cup out, unwrapping it to make sure it'd survived the trip unscathed. The light of the fire made it look even more fragile and precious and Baelfire's eyes opened wide when he spotted it.
"What's that, papa? Is it a chalice? Like the ones kings drink from?"
The utter awe in his voice both pleased and hurt the spinner. On the one hand he was proud to have stumbled upon something that would captivate his son so, on the other it was painful to see him so struck by something as ordinary as a teacup, albeit a fine one.
"It's a cup, Bae. A fancy cup, to drink from. People usually use it to drink tea."
It was even more mortifying to have to explain the concept of tea to Bae- "You mean some people eat just hours before supper?"- but the boy didn't seem to mind, holding the cup gently and carefully and deeming it the prettiest thing in the whole of the realms. He barely paid attention to his meal when his papa served it to him, wolfing down the stew while holding the cup with one hand.
The cup became their secret treasure. Bae would polish it diligently and carefully set it atop the fireplace. Rumplestiltskin grew attached to the delicate little thing as well, sometimes picking it up and tracing its delicate gold rim and wondering about who it had belonged to. His mind conjured up images of a faceless beauty with chestnut hair and skin like porcelain, as exquisite as the cup itself. He often chided himself for his silly musings but didn't actively tried to stop them. It was nice, for a while, to escape the confines of his poor existence and dream of far more pleasant things.
But as nice as daydreaming was, real life still needed tending to, and the spinner spent most of his day with his flock and the rest of it at his spinning wheel, working at his craft well into the night. It was on a particularly tiring night that he got up from his stool, sore and stiff, to fetch a cup of water. As he looked for his used wooden cup he spotted the bone-china one, gleaming in the light of the fire. He'd never drank out of anything so fine, and he could bet the water would even seem to taste better from it. Following an odd sort of whimsy he filled the cup with water and took a sip.
He noticed the smoke when he placed the cup on the table. It swirled around, seeming at first black but then diluting into a heavy blue. It looked like it was going to encompass the entire shack, but soon it began to shrink and condense into a tangible figure. After it disappeared the spinner came face to face with a stranger, a woman with long, chestnut hair pulled back by an array of combs and falling in loose curls down her back and attired in gold and blue. The clothes covered her chest and legs, baring her stomach, neck and arms but for a few bangles and a heavy necklace of pearls and sapphires. The fabric seemed spun from gold trimmed in vibrant blue that matched the apparition's eyes. Almost immediately Rumplestiltskin drew his gaze to the floor, feeling his cheeks reddening. He'd never seen so much skin uncovered before. Milah had been a shy bride, keeping her chemise on at all times and after Bae she hadn't allowed him to touch her anymore, her shyness turning to hatred and disdain.
"Hello, master."
She had a cultured, beautiful voice, with a slight accent he didn't recognize. Tentatively he raised his eyes, looking at her from under his lashes. She had her head tilted to the side, studying him as attentively as he was her. There wasn't anything threatening about her, in spite of the ominous blue cloud from which she'd emerged. She seemed to exude light and wonder.
"M-m-master?"
He turned around, looking to see if she might be talking to someone else. There was only Bae, tucked into a corner of the room on a straw pallet, deeply asleep. When he glanced back at the beauty she'd come impossibly close, so close he could smell the heady scent of her, vanilla and spices. Slowly, carefully, she laid both her palms over his chest, above his stuttering heart.
"Master," she repeated, smiling softly.
She felt warm, her skin soft as it touched his where his tunic had come undone to reveal more of his chest than what was usually on display. Her eyes were lined with heavy kohl, and there was a faint dusting of gold near her temples, above her shoulders and on other parts of her body. She was smaller than him, which was rare, and incredibly soft-looking. So distracting, in fact, that it took him an embarrassing amount of time to process the situation.
"You think I'm your master?"
He was trembling slightly, the adrenaline rush he'd gotten from all that bluish smoke coming out of the cup starting to wear off. The woman took both his hands in hers and tugged him towards a ratty chair, where he gladly let himself fall. She then slid her hands underneath his jaw to tilt his head up.
"You found the cup." He nodded dumbly. "You drank from it." Another nod. "That makes you my master per the rules that bind me as a genie. Congratulations."
There was something oddly sad about the way she'd said the last word but the spinner couldn't quite concentrate on it, busy as he was trying not to pass out. It felt as if air refused to enter his lungs no matter how much he struggled to breathe in and out. It was a relief when he finally got the gist of it.
"I'm sorry?"
He was sure he was coming across as some bumbling peasant but he couldn't quite help himself. Nothing made sense. He'd found a cup on a stream, had drank from it and next thing he knew a beautiful half-naked woman was calling him master and smiling prettily at him.
"I know it must be confusing. The cup is enchanted. I live in it, so to speak, and can only come out when my master has need of me. Drinking from the cup is the way I'm summoned."
"That's ridiculous."
The spinner felt like slapping himself, but it was too late. Surprisingly the woman laughed, sinking to her knees so she could peer up at him.
"It is. Are you feeling better, master?"
Every time she called him that a surge of something would travel up and down his spine, making him shudder.
"Please, don't call me that."
She didn't seem to think him rude, for which he was glad, merely nodding and smiling.
"Alright. How should I call you? I'm Belle."
Even his lowly peasant self knew enough of the highborn dialect to know Belle meant beautiful. And she certainly was. Her eyes in particular were almost hypnotic, a shade of blue he'd never seen before. But it was her expression, so open and warm, that drew him in the most.
"Rumplestiltskin."
It was a mouthful, the cause of childhood jeers and even adult laughter, but it was the only name he had to offer her. She repeated it several times, somehow making it sound… more.
"It's lovely to meet you. Thank you so much for taking me out of the cup. I don't enjoy forced sleep very much."
He nodded, as if he understood anything she was telling him, and gestured vaguely to the only other chair in the room, watching as she gathered her golden skirts and sat down gently. It was then that he noticed she was bare-foot, though he spied an anklet of pure gold peeking from beneath her hemline. Her nails were, oddly, painted a bright blue with a dusting of gold.
"I… I imagine you must have lots of questions so I'll try to explain as best I can. My name is Belle and I'm the genie of the cup. You're now my master and so I must grant you anything you wish and is within my power." Her smile vanished a bit and so he struggled to pay close attention to her next words. "But be careful, for all magic comes at a price, and wishes are not cheap. I've granted many wishes in my lifetime, and seldom have any ended happily."
Her voice was soft, but there was a definitely warning as she stressed the last part of her speech. Rumplestiltskin nodded to let her know he'd heard her, trying to digest everything at once.
"So… I found a chipped cup and drank from it and somehow that means you must grant me all the wishes I want?" She nodded. "That doesn't sound right. I must be dreaming."
Yes, it made sense. He must've fallen asleep on the stool, against the old spinning wheel like hundreds of times before. He'd never had such a lucid, fantastic dream, of course, but he'd been thinking an awful lot about that cup during the day. It was only natural for it to translate into his dreams.
"This is the strangest dream I've ever had…" He stood up, running a hand through his hair as he shuffled towards the bed.
"Is there something you wish? Something I could help you with?"
She sounded confused, and a bit apprehensive, and for a moment Rumplestiltskin thought to prolong his dream, talk to her a bit more, enjoy her before she disappeared with the light of day. But it was silly to encourage a flight of fancy, silly and stupid.
"Just make yourself comfortable in the room, that's all I wish."
He curled up on his tiny cot, his back to her so he faced the wall, and closed his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn't cold and hungry.
"Papa, who is she? She's so pretty!"
Bae's voice woke him up, curious and excited. He carded a hand through his hair and snuggled deeper into the cot, unwilling to wake up. He was warm and comfortable, his front pressing up against something soft that smelled like vanilla and exotic spices, and wanted to relish the feeling for a while longer.
"Five more minutes, Bae."
Usually he was up at the crack of dawn, before his son even stirred, but this time he didn't wish to relinquish his unusually-cosy nest of ratty blankets and… embroidered silk?
"Who's the pretty lady, papa?"
Bae's words finally registered and Rumplestiltskin jumped in surprise, landing rather noisily on the floor, tangled up in threadbare sheets and a gossamer fabric embroidered with bright blue, shimmering thread and gemstones. He took a moment to catch his breath, his back aching and his injured ankle throbbing. After a while he dared glance up to the bed, where a very real, and more scantily-clad-than-before genie was looking down at him, worry in her blue eyes.
"Are you alright, master?"
He sputtered a nonsensical reply, trying to connect the dots and figure out the situation. Meanwhile the woman rose from the bed, jingling from the many bangles and beads sewn into her clothes and ran a hand softly through Bae's dishevelled hair before coming up to him and bending down to help him up.
"I'm sorry, I forgot I'm not supposed to call you that. Are you hurt?"
She inspected him carefully, resting her hands on his shoulders in a way that made him nervous. Beside them Bae flitted about, ever-curious.
"You're not a dream. You're real." She nodded patiently, apparently waiting for him to finish taking stock of the situation. "You slept with me."
She ducked her head, suddenly shy somewhat, and looked up at him from under her lashes.
"You wished for me to get comfortable. Your cot was the most comfortable place inside the cottage. I'm sorry."
She seemed to mean it, the blush blooming in her cheeks a clear indicator of it. He apologized profusely, trying not to stare directly at her. She'd covered him with the fabric that had been covering part of her front at some point in the night, leaving her with only her chest and legs covered. Seeming to understand his discomfort the woman quickly and efficiently wrapped the fabric around herself in such a way that it formed a sort-of dress, with enough coverage for the spinner to stop looking at the floor when in her presence. He shakily gestured to the table, both of them sitting once more and repeating the conversation from the night before, with Bae commenting excitedly around them as he offered the genie water or some of their embarrassingly stale-bread. She politely declined the bread, but accepted the water and drank greedily, as if she hadn't had water in years. Father and son watched her avidly as she drank cup after cup, managing to look both refined and desperate.
"So… you're a genie?"
She nodded, smiling.
"Your genie now. For as long as you own the cup."
It was impossible. Those sorts of things happened in stories about knights, princesses and heroes, not to very real and very lame spinners. It made no sense for the Fates to suddenly decide to stop plying him with bad luck and misery. Much less to give him… Belle.
"And we get to make all the wishes we want?"
Baelfire had calmed down quite a bit, his demeanour turning serious when he asked about the wishes. Belle turned to look at him.
"There are things even beyond the power that was entrusted to me but I am capable of great feats. I must warn you, though, Master Baelfire, that all magic comes at a price and someone has to pay it. It's the law that governs magic."
She was gentle but firm as she stressed her point and the spinner had an inkling that, even though she was talking to his son, she was acutely aware that he was listening too. His boy nodded solemnly and the genie smiled down at him, ruffling his hair in a way that had him smiling. Bae was usually skittish around adults, no doubt because they usually treated him with contempt, but he seemed quite taken with Belle, all shy smiles and puppy eyes. He could see the beginnings of the lad's first crush appear.
"It sounds like a mistake. I'm just a lame spinner, what business do I have with magic cups and genies?"
It felt almost sacrilegious to think he held power over one such as Belle. For all her kindness and sunny disposition she was also of high birth. It was obvious in the way she moved and spoke, the way she carried herself. She was clearly better than him, and the natural order of things dictated that women like Belle ordered men like Rumplestiltskin about, not the other way around.
"It's not a mistake. Try it, you'll see. Wish for something."
Years of going without, of barely scraping way, had all but killed his ability to wish for anything. Had Baelfire's stomach not grumbled loudly he was sure he'd taken forever to think of something to wish for but suddenly it was very clear.
"I wish for a lavish breakfast, with lots of fruits and pastries."
It wasn't extravagant or whimsical by any stretch of the imagination but Rumplestiltskin felt like it was a good, solid wish. Belle smiled, seeming to approve of his choice, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before blowing the air out. Blue, wispy smoke came out of her mouth, coiling and expanding, seeming to overtake the table. Then, at some point, it began to disappear, leaving an impressive array of food in its wake. From pastries, porridge, loaves of freshly-baked bread, honey, jams and a basket full to the brim of fruits, it seemed to be enough for the whole village to partake in. Baelfire's eyes grew comically large, trying to take it all in at once. He'd never starved, Rumplestiltskin had seen to it, but he'd certainly gone to bed with hardly anything in his stomach quite a few times. Once the spinner got over his initial shock he wrapped his arms around Bae, who was about to lunge at the table and no doubt bathe in the food.
"No, Bae, no. You mustn't eat too much, you'll get sick."
He served his son a bowl of porridge with a spoonful of honey to sweeten the deal.
"Here. You eat it slowly and when you finish you may have a bit of fruit and some milk. Just don't wolf it down, Bae. Please."
The boy nodded reluctantly, accepting the modest bowl with a soft "thank you" before scooping a spoonful and shoving it in his mouth. He hummed in pleasure, smiling at Belle as he swallowed.
"It's very good. Thank you Lady Belle."
The genie smiled, tilting her head to the side.
"Why do you call me lady, Master Baelfire?"
The boy shovelled two spoonful's of porridge into his mouth before answering.
"'tis obvious you're a highborn lady. Everyone could see it. I've never met one and I can."
He seemed proud of having figured out and Belle smiled down at him, combing his hair before turning her attention to the boy's father. He was staring at the spread of food with bewilderment, clearly unable to decide where to start. She took pity on him, nudging a jar of raspberry jam in his direction.
"It's quite good, I recommend it. And the bread is warm. Fresh out of the oven."
She broke a loaf in two and offered him the largest piece, which he shyly took. As she'd said the jam was wonderful and the bread heavenly. Everything, really, looked inviting, but it wasn't until he spotted the butter cookies that he realized that the breakfast selection seemed tailored to his tastes. He glanced at Belle, who was scooping out seeds from a pomegranate using a bowl of water and eating them, her natural poise somehow making the sticky, messy process look elegant. She appeared completely at ease inside their pathetic little hut, like she was content to sit on a rickety chair and share breakfast with some lowly peasants. It was then that hit him: this was real. There was a genie in his home ready to give him whatever he wanted…
He was terrified.
He was the wrong man to be given such power. He'd either waste it away of misuse it. He wasn't clever enough, or brave enough, or honourable enough. He should've never reached for that cup, or drank from it, or…
"What's wrong, master? Sorry, Rumplestiltskin. It's going to take some getting used to, I'm afraid. But you look pale. Troubled."
He watched as Bae slowly savoured the porridge and realized that it was probably the first time his boy had tasted honey. Somehow that realization made it all worse.
"I… can't be your master. I can't have that power. I wouldn't know what to do with it. I barely manage to scrape by, to provide the bare minimum for Bae. I am not… I could never…"
The genie seemed torn between giving him space and comforting him, not knowing which would be the best course of action. It was Baelfire the one to approach him and pat him gently on the shoulder, barely reaching it.
"'ts alright to be scared, papa. We'll figure it out together."
So young and yet so brave, so noble, so pure. Baelfire was like a changeling, a blessed boy mistakenly left on a poor spinner's crib. He'd help him make the right choices. Everything good about his life was somehow linked to his son, after all.
"You're right, Bae. Now go finish the porridge so you can have some strawberries."
His boy had never seen strawberries before and seemed more content to stare at them and study them than eating them. Belle laughed at the boy's antics, pouring him a glass of warm milk before fixing herself and her master some tea. He accepted the cup with shaky fingers, trying to imitate the woman's elegant manners and not simply down the hot drink in hasty gulps. It'd been years since he'd had good tea. The Ogre's war had cut off a lot of trade routes, making some goods scarce and others downright non-existent, like strawberries, a lot of spices and most fish. Tea had become a pricey commodity, completely out of his reach.
An idea began to take shape inside his head as he watched Bae paint his lips red with the berry juice and show Belle. He was still a wee lad, years away from the dangers of conscription, but already his life had been affected and limited by the Ogre Wars. He lived in an impoverished village and was the son of a coward, a deserter. He'd grow up feeling that he had something to prove and because he was brave and honourable and perfect, he'd go to battle to defend his fellow men and die pointlessly and needlessly.
He wanted better for his son. He wanted everything he deserved, all roads open for him. And he wanted children to stop being orphans, and live past their teens.
He wanted to stop the war.
He thought things over while doing his chores, after Belle had magicked away the uneaten food. He had had to drag Bae away kicking and screaming, the boy wishing to stay with the genie and keep her company. He couldn't blame the lad, part of him had wanted nothing more than to be able to linger by her side. Still the sheep needed tending, water needed to be transported from the nearby stream to the house and their meagre crop needed care.
Rumplestiltskin let Bae mostly to play with Flint, their three-legged sheepdog. He'd been born without his left hind leg to a more prosperous farmer who'd gifted the pup to Rumplestiltskin out of pity, either for the spinner or for the dog he wasn't sure. While his son chased after the animal, making sure not to startle the sheep grazing nearby, his father thought deeply about the wish brewing in his mind. It seemed to be the logical choice for a second wish, laudable enough that, perhaps, the price to pay for such magic wouldn't be as dire. And he had to admit that it'd ease his conscience, to be the instrument of victory of the war he'd ran away from. He didn't need anyone to know, it'd be enough to hold the secret inside.
Right as the sun set, before making their way back to the cottage, Rumplestiltskin presented his idea to Bae. His son mulled it over, looking very serious and focused, and finally smiled and nodded.
"It's the perfect wish. Well done, papa."
It was seldom that he felt he'd truly gained his son's pride and approval and he savoured the warm feeling in his chest all the way back to their little shack. They almost stumbled out, mumbling apologies, a second later, only to check and realize that, indeed, it was their home, only clean. Dust had been removed from every surface, and most of the threadbare furniture thoroughly polished. A fire was roaring in the hearth and sprigs of flowers and herbs hung from strategic places, filling the modest shack with a pleasant, sweet scent that chased away the old smell of livestock. Belle was dressed in another of her exotic outfits, this one less embellished and more practical, the cotton cloth still soft and lush to the touch. It was a lovely ochre colour that enhanced the luminescence of her skin and even without the pearls and most of the gold she looked beautiful and unreal.
"Hi Belle!" Bae almost knocked her down in his enthusiasm to greet her. Though wise beyond his years and mature enough to know to keep the genie a secret and stick to the routine he was still very much a little boy full of wonder and sadly starved for attention. None of the villagers consciously shunned him, he was too adorable for that, rather they didn't make an effort to prevent their treatment of Rumplestiltskin from affecting his son. As a result Bae had grown without much social contact, especially from adults.
"Hi, Bae." The boy had asked her to call him that, deeming it "silly" for her to call him "Master Baelfire". He proceeded to tell her about their day, going into detail about how a wondering neighbour's goat stole his cap and ate it. Belle seemed to think the story fascinating, laughing in all the right places and looking appropriately angry when Bae mentioned it was his favourite cap. Rumplestiltskin watched them from his seat at the spinning wheel, his dextrous fingers and feet going through the motions automatically.
He interrupted them only to shyly request supper from Belle, who seemed happy to comply. The stew she conjured up wasn't rich enough as he'd liked but their stomachs were still adjusting to having plenty to eat and it was delicious anyway. Both of the men made a concerted effort to copy Belle's exquisite mannerisms, so effortlessly graceful that it proved hopeless. But the grip she had on the spoon was easy enough to copy and slurping was simple to avoid.
When they were finished and everything cleared Rumplestiltskin presented his plan to Belle, Bae listening in and ready to chip in at any moment. She paid close attention, seeming surprised and pleased he'd seek her advice before making his wish. She helped him specify his intentions, warning him it was safer to constrain magic with details and clarity lest it find loopholes to exploit. Finally, long after Bae had fallen asleep, he made his wish. She smiled, oddly solemn, and gently touched the side of his face with her hand, a brief caress.
"It'll take me three days and three nights. I'll be back as soon as it's done."
Blue smoke swallowed her whole and by the time it dispersed she was gone.
They heard nothing of her during those three days and nights and, had Baelfire not insisted on talking about Belle every five minutes, he might have thought he'd dreamed her up. She'd also made sure to leave enough food to eat frugally, Bae getting the lion's share as his stomach slowly accustomed itself to getting four meals a day and plenty of meat.
Around the third afternoon people began to whisper about in the village. The red glow that could be ominously seen at a distance, where the battlefield was, weakened and then disappeared altogether. People talked amongst themselves, fearing the fight was moving and soon enough it'd reach them or that the troops had failed and the ogres had won. Only a few dared hope for a better outcome and only two knew what it really meant.
"It's over, papa."
Though Bae had never shown to doubt Belle he looked as if he could barely believe it. Bae had been a child of war, had grown up with the threat of it always nearby. Rumplestiltskin could hardly imagine how it felt to the child to abruptly experience peace.
"Let's go home, Bae, and wait for Belle."
He dragged the stunned lad home, fearful he'd blurt out something about the wish in his shock. Once alone the joy that he'd expected to feel unfurled inside him. He hugged his son close, ruffling his hair and swinging him about, pain no attention to his throbbing leg. Maybe once Belle was back he could wish for it to be mended, rid himself forever of a distasteful reminder of the war. It was over, he could finally stop looking over his shoulder. He'd stopped the war. Whatever he'd done in the past had surely been put to rights.
They dined on the rest of the food, neither very concerned about saving some just in case. Bae seemed intent on learning about the world outside of their village, something he'd never shown much interest for. Of course such a world had been, up until that afternoon, inaccessible to him. His father indulged him, talking of what he'd learned in his admittedly-short travels before becoming a soldier. The boy fought to stay awake past his bedtime, wanting to be there for when Belle returned to thank her properly for what she'd done but around ten his wee body had given up, succumbing to sleep. The spinner thought to take his place, working his wheel while he waited for the blue-eyed genie to appear but, sometime around midnight, his eyes grew too heavy and his body too exhausted. He dragged himself to his cot, thinking of resting his eyes for a moment and, before he knew it, he was deeply asleep.
He woke up sometime around three in the morning, the hut pitch-black and silent. At first he didn't know what had woken him. Everything seemed to be in its place, unperturbed. Then, after a few moments, he heard the tiniest hitch, a sharp but quiet intake of breath coming from nowhere near his son's pallet. Praying for the best but fearing the worst the spinner propped himself up, grabbing his staff from the floor to haul himself to a standing position. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness till they were able to spot movement near the hearth. A figure was huddled there, on the floor right beside the dying embers. A flash of gold around the figure's ankle alerted him to the fact that it was Belle. She was curled up on the floor, covered mostly by some sort of cloak, and seemed to be in pain.
He knelt beside her immediately, hissing as his ankle protested the move. When he touched her he was surprised to see she was burning up, almost scalding. He fumbled for a lamp, the only one with a bit of oil left, and lit it quickly, shouting out for Bae to wake up. The boy, to his credit, took in everything rather quickly, getting up and putting on his shoes to see how he could help. His father instructed him to go to the stream and fetch fresh water, urging him to be careful of strangers and marauders and to take Flint with him. The dog did not trust strangers at all and was a ferocious protector.
As Bae hurried out of the house Rumplestiltskin unwrapped the cloak from around the genie. In the dim light he could see her skin flushed red and her mouth parted, her breathing laboured. He called her name but she didn't seem to hear him or notice his presence, not even when he fumbled with the fabric of her garment to peel it off her body till only the most sensitive parts were covered, much like when he'd woken up in bed with her. There seemed to be nothing wrong with her, no strange insect bites or infected injuries, just a raging fever burning her up from within.
It took several trips for Bae to fill the copper tub they seldom used, a keepsake from one of his aunts who'd used it to dye fabric once upon a time. Once he managed to top it with water they submerged the half-clothed genie up to the neck, taking care to settle her to she wouldn't slip and drown, if it was possible. Restless and eager for something to do they both took turns bathing her forehead and face and talking to her, eager for any kind of reply. In the meantime they theorized about what could've happened, guessing some sort of ogre poison or magical malady.
They waved aside their chores for the day, neither willing to leave the genie alone even as the sounds of rejoice reached them. The village was up in an uproar, news of the end of the war spreading like wildfire. People celebrated on the streets, buried old grudges and shared what little they had amongst themselves. No one, however, noticed that they were missing, or that they failed to take the sheep out to pasture.
For three days and three nights they took turns carrying fresh water and tending to the genie. Bae even went as far as sneaking to a nearby mountain for a bit of ice, much to his father's overt anger and secret pride. Sometime during the third night after Bae, exhausted, had gone to sleep Belle stirred inside the tub, eyes fluttering open slowly. At first she didn't seem to register anything but, haltingly, as if it caused her great pain, she turned her head to stare at him. He'd forgotten how blue her eyes were and for a moment he was struck speechless by them.
"Hey."
She smiled at his inarticulate greeting, raising a hand from the water to perch it on the rim of the tub and push herself into a proper sitting position. He made sure to stare at her face at all times, conscious of her modesty, and offered her a glass of water which she accepted gratefully. She drank in slow, tiny sips, the action seeming to take a lot of effort. A thousand questions brewed inside his mind but he saw to her comfort first, asking her if she wished to leave the tub or if she wanted to eat something. She declined both offers, though she assured him she'd be much better in the morning.
"What happened?"
He'd held up as much as he could, but the question tumbled out of his mouth against his will. She bit her lip and looked away, gestures that he knew too well. Bae did the same when he was trying to find a way to lie and tell the truth at the same time. Gently but firmly he pressed his fingers against her jaw and turned her head back so she was looking at him, letting her know without words that he wished for the absolute truth.
"The price of the magic. It always demands payment, no matter the nature of the deed. I usually let the wisher pay the price but the wish was so unselfish and you and Bae so kind that… I couldn't."
She must have seen the horror reflected in his expression because she hastened to reassure him. She knew she'd survive the pain, that it'd be fleeting compared to whatever could happen to him or to Bae. She'd done it before, once or twice, and though it hadn't been as bad as that she'd been prepared.
"You knew this. That's why you looked so sad when we made the wish. You'd decided to…"
He wanted to berate her for being stupid, for doing such a foolish thing without telling them before, so they'd know not to ask for something so monumental.
"I couldn't do that. It was a good wish, probably the best I've ever granted. It needed to be fulfilled. It was the right thing to do."
She sounded at peace and happy with her decision and, above all, sure. He'd never had such confidence, so unwavering even if the face of extreme hardship. An envious trait, one he could see blossoming in Baelfire. One he knew did not reside in him.
But he was not without decency. The Ogre Wars were over and that was good enough. No need to ask for costly wishes again. His leg, for one, would have to stay as it was. Healing sounded like expensive magic. The food hadn't seemed to be a problem, and they'd have to explore how far they could push it while keeping it safe.
It took a week more for both the spinner and his son to be sure Belle was properly mended. Things were chaotic all around with the onset of sudden peace so their variations in routine went unnoticed. She insisted on providing food, which didn't seem to cost her any pain, and help around the house, mending clothes- her stitches were exquisite, if not a bit impractical- and keeping things in order. Once she was recuperated the three of them set out to find which types of wishes were relatively harmless and which were out of the question. It was an exercise in creativity, finding the perfect small wish that could potentially have a big impact, and the first experiments were tentative.
Food and clothing seemed relatively safe, as long as it wasn't overdone. Rumplestiltskin, stuttering like a schoolboy the entire time, pointed out that Belle might profit from wearing more common garb and, soon enough, she was clothed in a charming blue dress, simple but well-made- a bit too well-made for such a poor village, but the spinner had no heart to point it out. Though she couldn't change their own appearance overnight- people would get suspicious if they started to boast new, costly clothing- she did mend their worn garments beyond what was humanly possible, and cleaned them as best as she dared.
That left them with a lot of limitations regarding wishes, taking into account anything big was out of the question and anything remotely life-changing and, therefore, suspicious, was impossible too. It was Baelfire that came up with the idea of wishing for luck. A bit of it, so as to not endanger Belle, but enough that they could seize it and make the most of it. It was certainly a good idea, the kind of small change that could end up having a great impact if taken advantage of.
The bit of luck Belle conjured up for them in tendrils of dark blue magic came in the form of trade, which had been lacking for years. There was a sudden rise in the demand for all sorts of goods, including thread. In the village he'd had to compete with other spinners that, though inferior in their skills, weren't shunned cowards who no one would associate with and who were willing to sell their shoddier product at a cheaper price. Now, however, people from all around came to their market fair, people who didn't care about his past and could appreciate the excellence of his skill. Soon he was producing colourful, premium thread once more, buying wool from neighbouring farmers to keep up with demand, several traders making promises to buy thread from him at the big fair two towns over.
It was Bae's first glimpse out of the village and the boy couldn't contain his excitement. Belle seemed to share the boy's high spirits, packing diligently and talking to Bae about what she knew from the world outside. At first Rumplestiltskin had been worried about explaining the genie's presence to others but she'd been quick to reassure him.
"They won't notice me. No one does unless I want them to. It's a genie thing. I'm not invisible per se, but I'm… easily looked over."
He stared at her, wondering how people could see such beauty and dismiss it from their minds. He was having a hard time doing that. Belle slept on a nest of silks and damask near his own improved cot, swathed in thin, soft linen and there were nights where he didn't sleep at all, merely stared at her in wonder. Whenever he arrived to the cot after morning chores- afternoons were now dedicated solely to spinning- she'd greet him with a kiss and a hug, and fuss over him and Bae. During the afternoon she spent quite a bit of time outside, soaking in the sun and sometimes playing with Bae. She was teaching him how to read, the spinner having managed to barter for some paper and a bit of charcoal at the village, and the lad seemed to be making quick progress. Bae would have a better life, that was clear. The life he deserved.
Though she loved being out in the sun she'd often come back inside to check on him, making sure he wasn't working himself ragged or offering him tea or water. Sometimes, if he agreed to a break, she'd stay and talk with him. Others she convinced him to go outside and take a bit of air with Bae.
Needless to say by the time their first trip to the regional market fair came he was more than a bit smitten. Besotted was more like it, though no one could really fault him for it. Belle was not only the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen- with her creamy skin and big blue eyes- but also the kindest and the gentlest. She helped him load and unload his wares from the cart he'd managed to rent with the monies he'd made since the opening of the trade routes, and helped him haggle with merchants, most of which, though eager to get their hands on high-quality merchandise, were quick to try and swindle him. He was surprised how easily the dealing aspect of it all came to him, how fast he'd spot traps or sneaky loopholes. Outside of the village, with Belle by his side and Bae observing carefully to learn, he grew confident and sure, managing to deal with more aplomb than ever before. By the end of their four-day stay the wool and thread were gone and Rumplestiltskin had a purse full of coins and quite a few orders for the future.
With honest money the spinner and his son bought fabric for clothing and new shoes. Belle, lacking neither attire nor footwear, accepted a few coins for books, her giddiness adding a rosy colour to her cheeks that made her even more fetching than usual. As soon as they were home Rumple and Belle made good use of the newly-purchased fabric. He had skill for cutting patterns and tailoring, leftover knowledge from his aunts and a lifetime experience dressing himself and Bae. Belle, however, could sew the most interesting silhouettes and shapes, adding something impractical but altogether very valuable too. For the first time Bae would have clothes not only meant to keep him warm and covered, but also meant to be enjoyed. He'd help Belle with the patterns, displaying a talent for drawing Rumple had never been aware of.
Better clothes seemed to require better hygiene, which meant either a bath in the nearby stream or lugging buckets of water to the house. A simple wish, of a bucket that could carry ten times its size and weight the same as a normal full bucket, was small enough to be granted without much fuss, causing Belle a mild headache for a few days. Though the spinner wasn't fond of bathing- even though he liked how less pitiful and dirty he looked afterwards- Bae took to it with gusto, building paper boats and racing them in the confined space of the tub.
Afterwards Belle would towel his hair dry and comb it and once he was ready for bed they'd practice reading. Rumple would watch them, listening to the stories they spun and reminding himself constantly that they weren't mother and child. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he began to wish it, passionately, but now it was never far from his mind. To fall in love with Belle was inevitable, in retrospective. There was something magnetic about her, something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Perhaps it was the way she seemed to see past the rags and the filth and the lame leg and see a worthy man, a man full of potential and promise.
She was also very determined, not easily swayed by his shy refusals or any attempts to pull back. She was also incredibly tactile, always eager to kiss his cheek or finger-comb his hair. He hadn't noticed, until her, how starved for touch he was. The only one who ever hugged him was Bae and, as much as he was grateful for his son, it wasn't enough. At first it had been the touch of an outsider, someone not of his kin who didn't find him repelling or unworthy. Then it had changed to the warm touch of a friend, someone who cared for him. Almost immediately, however, it'd morphed into the touch of a woman, smooth and soft and utterly beguiling, touch he craved like nothing else. He hated himself for it, for turning something pure and innocent like the amicable love the genie felt for him into something carnal and debauched.
He did all he could to keep himself distracted during the day, to turn his mind away from certain thoughts, but they plagued him at night. Sometimes the dreams took a turn for the… exotic. He imagined her in lavish, embroidered silk and damask with gold dripping from her skin and precious gems glinting as she moved. The heavy scent of oils and incense would cling to her skin, heady and dizzying, as he kissed her, worshipping her like the humble peasant he was, unworthy of even one of her smiles. He imagined delicately stripping her bare and then divesting her of all her jewellery bit by bit as she lay in a nest of pillows, regal but warm.
Those dreams were intoxicating, but they paled in comparison to his most mundane fantasies. In them Belle called him "husband" and Bae called her "mother" and they shared a bed each night, soft caresses and fierce proclamations of love in the dark. She'd be his to kiss and touch in public and with her at his side he'd become the best version of himself he could be.
Those fantasies gave him both pleasure and pain and he tried to keep them out of his mind in the waking hours so Belle wouldn't suspect. It was difficult, though, when they were practically playing house together. It was a strange sort of existence the one they'd created and somehow he knew it wouldn't- couldn't- last.
When the rumours reached them they were vague enough not to cause much concern. People started talking about mysterious people travelling in the direction of the village in search of a strange, magical object capable of great feats. When Baelfire and his father first heard the talk on the village they tacitly decided to dismiss it and never mention it to Belle. She seemed so happy fixing up their home, teaching Bae and generally enjoying the freedom of being outside the cup, that to worry her for naught seemed silly.
One evening found the spinner finishing a colourful length of dark yellow yarn, Belle sitting next to him using a niddy noddy to make a skein when Baelfire suddenly burst into the little cottage, Flint in tow. He looked panicked and, immediately, Rumplestiltskin's forgotten anxiety flared back to life, old fears coming back to plague him. Had the war started again? Was someone there to take Bae? Or Belle?
"We have to go. There are people in the village, scary-looking people. They are asking everyone about a chipped cup."
The genie paled instantaneously, dropping the wooden tool she'd been using and turning her frightened blue eyes to her master. For an instant all he felt was paralysing terror. But seeing Belle tremble snapped him out. She was always so brave she deserved someone to be so for her. As calmly as he could he asked his son to elaborate, trying not to react as Bae told the whole story. People in black, foreign uniform, asking about how the Ogre Wars had ended and if anyone had seen a chipped cup with a blue pattern or if anyone was behaving in a suspicious manner.
"They'll end up here. They'll know. They'll take me away."
Belle seemed anguished but somehow resigned, looking ready to say goodbye and leave them, however reluctantly. She'd never given him any indication she disliked having him as a master. Most of the time it seemed easy enough to forget. Belle wasn't a servant, she was, if anything, a miracle, and his superior in every possible way. She'd given them so much, had turned their lives upside down and brought hope and joy. He wouldn't give her up, not so easily.
"Bae's right, we're going."