Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A/N: This is a reposting of my fic 'Love Letters' which has been re-edited and re-named. I really hope you enjoy this. I'd like to thank you in advance for reading and if it's not too much to ask … please leave me a comment to let me know what you think. Love you all. I'm not working with a beta right now, so all mistakes are mine.

Summary: Maurice calls upon the Dark One to save his wife and daughter from certain death. Unable to save the queen, he vows to save the child. His price? On her eighteenth birthday he will come to claim her as his own. When she learns of the deal, she is only allowed to communicate with her betrothed through letters. Will she fall in love with him through their correspondence or will Maurice be able to find a way to break his deal with the Dark One?

Letras de Amor

By:

CharlotteAshmore

CHAPTER ONE

"WHERE IS HE?" Maurice Beaumont, King of Avonlea and its surrounding shires hissed angrily at Lord Smythe, Earl Lancaster and his most trusted friend and advisor, as he paced before the door leading into his bedchamber. His wife, Jeannette had been in labor - a rather difficult one if her midwife was to be believed - for more than twenty-eight hours and the king was frantic with worry.

"Maurice, please, you must be patient. After all, this is the Dark One to whom you've sent your request. There really is no guarantee that he will come at all," the earl said softly as he swirled the whiskey in his goblet. He hadn't left the king's side since the queen had gone into labor and really, the alcohol wasn't helping, but it kept his hands busy. He wondered idly where Maurice got the energy for his endless pacing.

"He has to come! The fairies, even our own sweet Marelle has said she can't interfere if Jeannette takes a turn for the worse. It would be against the natural order of things and the price would be more than we could pay to save her," the king said, running a beefy hand over his ruddy face in his anxiety. He couldn't lose his precious Jeannette. He doubted he'd survive her loss. And what of their child, the child they'd yearned for all these many years. She couldn't be snatched away from him now when they were so close to having their heart's desire.

The earl breathed a weary sigh and rotated his neck on his shoulders, wincing as the bones cracked mercilessly. "I still don't think it wise to call on Rumpelstiltskin, Maurice. Even he might not be able to help. And if he does, how can you know he will not exact some exorbitant price you aren't willing to pay?"

"I will give him anything he desires to save my Jeannette," Maurice said vehemently, his voice breaking at the last over his love's name.

*.*.*

Rumpelstiltskin kept to the shadows in the farthest corner of the sitting room, his cloak pulled about him like a shield and the hood pulled low over his face. He'd been watching the king for more than an hour as the man's desperation grew. He knew all too well of what was happening in the next room. The woman had already lost too much blood, her life force slipping away as she struggled to bring her daughter into the world. The child wasn't faring much better. There was nothing he could do for the queen, but perhaps he would be able to save the child if the king were willing to deal with him. The fairies were correct … for once. Nothing could save the queen; the price would be too high, and the only price would be a life in exchange for hers. He doubted seriously she would exchange her daughter's life for her own.

Maurice whirled around as the door to his bedchamber opened and the midwife stepped into the sitting room, her face full of sympathy for her monarch. "I'm sorry, your majesty. The queen asks for you," she said, swallowing heavily around the lump of emotion threatening to choke her. "She wishes to say goodbye."

"No!" Maurice wailed, striding past the woman and storming into the room to kneel at his wife's side, taking her limp hand in his and pressing a kiss to her fingertips. Tears streamed down his ashen face as he fought back the sobs which shook his barrel-like chest.

"I'm sorry, my love. Sorry I wasn't st-stronger," the queen said weakly, the timbre of her voice barely more than a whisper.

Maurice glanced down at the tiny wrapped bundle lying at his wife's side and felt his heart take flight in his chest. A thatch of chestnut curls, so like her mother's, clung wetly to the crown of her head and dark blue eyes which would surely lighten over time, stared up at him as she began to fuss. "No, love, it's not your fault. Everything will be alright."

Jeannette drew a shaky breath and cupped his cheek in her hand. "Liar," she whispered with a fond smile. He never had been able to lie to his beloved, for she could always tell. "P-Promise me, my husband. Promise m-me you w-will watch over our little one. Our little Belle?"

"Belle?" the king asked hesitantly as he gazed down at the child. "Is that what you wish to call her? She is quite a little beauty. The name is certainly fitting."

"Yes. Our Belle. Promise m-me you'll always take … care …"

"No, Jeannette, please. You will be here to watch over her yourself. Please, Jeannette, don't leave me. We need you, my darling," Maurice pleaded. "I love you."

"L-Love you, hus…" Her voice faded as she took her last breath and her hand went slack in his grip.

His daughter wailed, her cries echoing through the room as he gathered his beloved wife in his arms and buried his face in the crook of her neck, begging her to come back, pleading with her not to leave him. How was he supposed to do this without her? The midwife lifted Belle from the bed and rocked her gently in her arms as the king grieved. She worried for the child as she noticed how off her color seemed.

"There was nothing which could have been done for your wife, Sire," came a high-pitched voice from the doorway, one which sent an icy tingle of fear skittering up the king's spine.

Gently, Maurice laid his lost love back against the pillows and whirled to point an accusing finger in the sorcerer's direction. "You! You could have saved her. There is nothing beyond your power and you refused to heed my call," he thundered, his tone saturated with pain and a healthy dose of rage.

"And I assure you I could not," Rumpelstiltskin said, brushing his blackened nails lazily against the front of his cloak. What did he care for the loss of one noblewoman, another spoiled royal who lorded her position over the masses? The child, however, was a different story. He never could abide the suffering of children. "But there is no need to lose them both this day."

Maurice paled as his gaze swung to the worried face of the midwife. "What of my daughter? Why would you say such a thing?"

"She is frail, the birth was too strenuous. Even now she is fading," the imp said, tenting his fingers below his chin and leveling an inquisitive look at the king. "Now her … her I can save."

Maurice took his daughter into his arms and saw for himself the bluish tinge to what should have been her rosy lips, her face pale and ashen, and her cries only half-hearted whimpers. He could see the truth of the Dark One's words with his own eyes. "Truly, you can save her?" he asked with the last shred of hope he bore in his soul. He couldn't lose them both. He was afraid the agony of his grief would destroy him. His precious daughter needed the chance to grow, to thrive … to live. For his Jeannette.

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, a gleam of avarice in his eyes.

"What is your price?" the king asked, the breath catching in his throat and his grip tightening on the fragile bundle in his arms as he waited for the Dark One's answer.

"My price … is her, of course."

The imp giggled, and Maurice felt his stomach flop over on itself, causing a wave of nausea to nearly choke him. "You would heal her just to take her from me? She's all I have left."

Rumpelstiltskin's thin lips pursed as he arched a brow at the king. "And what would I do with her like that?" he asked, waving a hand in the babe's direction. "How many deals do you think I could make carting about a wee babe? I think not."

"But you said —"

"I know what I said! I didn't mean today. Even I won't be that cruel," he snapped testily. "No, she will be mine on her eighteenth birthday." He brightened, his overlarge amber eyes widening with glee. "As my bride."

Maurice bristled, saying through clenched teeth, "No, absolutely not!"

A smirk curled the imp's lips as he went in for the kill. "You would fail your twoo wuv by denying her last wish? You can't very well grant her request to look after her daughter if the wee babe doesn't survive because of your selfishness," he tittered, his hawk-like nose crinkling.

"But—"

Rumpelstiltskin cut him off. "You will have her for eighteen years, sire. At which time you would be looking to marry her off to some noble anyway."

"Of course, I would. I would find her someone worthy of her, someone she could love, someone who would care for her and stand by her side as she takes her place on the throne," the king protested.

Another giggle trilled through the room at the imp's obvious amusement. "And what makes you think she couldn't love me?"

Maurice gaped in disbelief, but the imp waved him off. Instead he said, "I will not condemn her to a life of misery with you."

Rumpelstiltskin narrowed his eyes at the king. "I would never mistreat her. I may be a monster, but I would never dishonor those bound to me."

Belle's breathing was becoming more and more labored the longer he haggled with the sorcerer and Maurice knew his time was running out. "You will leave her be for eighteen years, allow me to raise her?"

"I will," Rumpelstiltskin assured him, rubbing the fingers of his left hand together in a nervous manner, feeling victory within his grasp.

"You will not see her until it is time to claim her. I must insist upon that," the king insisted, his tone brooking no objection.

"Done. Now, do we have a deal?"

Maurice nodded. "Yes."

Rumpelstiltskin produced a contract and quill and laid them out on the table next to the large four poster bed for the king to peruse and sign. He motioned for the monarch to hand him the babe and he lost his breath as he held her against his chest. "There, there, little love, you'll feel right as rain in just a moment," he crooned gently, his voice losing its impish cackle to sound something resembling the normal deep timbre of a man.

Maurice signed the contract, pleased the sorcerer hadn't tried to trick him with the fine print, and yet feeling as though he had just signed his child's death warrant. The Dark One pressed his lips to the child's brow and she stilled her fussing and became quiet as his magic flowed through her. Color returned to her face and her breathing eased into a normal rhythm and she quietly gazed up at the strange man holding her with something akin to awareness, though Rumpelstiltskin knew it wasn't possible at such a young age. He reluctantly handed the child back to the king before Maurice literally snatched her from his arms.

Rumpelstiltskin pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and narrowed his eyes on the king. "Eighteen years, sire, and not a moment longer. I will return to claim her as my bride. Remember, sire, no one breaks deals with me. So, any thoughts you might have to worm your way out of your contract will not be tolerated." With that warning hanging heavily in the air, the Dark One took his leave, disappearing in a cloud of violet smoke.

Maurice dropped wearily onto the chair next to the bed and nuzzled Belle's cheek, finally allowing his tears to flow once again. He would honor Jeannette's last wish to watch over their daughter, to raise her to the best of his ability and keep her safe. He had eighteen years with her … eighteen years to find some way out of the contract he'd made with the most powerful being in the realm. He shuddered as he thought of his child in the hands of that monster. No, he wouldn't allow his Belle to be taken from him. He would save her … by any means necessary.