I saw Disney's remake of Cinderella and thought about how the idea could work for RumBelle with the roles reversed, so here we are! Hope you enjoy :)

Once Upon a Time is the property of Adam Horowitz, Eddy Kitsis, and ABC.

The Golden Thread

Chapter One

Rumplestiltskin had not had a particularly easy life. He'd never known his mother, he'd been abandoned by his father before he was ten years old, and the two kindly spinsters who had taken him in and taught him all he knew about spinning had died of pneumonia one particularly harsh winter, leaving him alone in the world at the age of thirteen. Things didn't get any better after that. He wasn't particularly well treated by the villagers who thought spinning was no fit profession for a man. The men made fun of him and the women were wary of him. Then there was the accident. A peddler had been going around the village, selling his wares, and had parked his cart on a steep hill above where some children were playing. Unfortunately, the cart wasn't properly secured and it came trundling fast down the hill, headed directly for the children. Rumplestiltskin had been tending his chickens at the time and saw the cart and the children and the imminent danger. Most of the children saw it too and got out of the way, but one little boy wasn't paying attention and, rather than let the cart hit the boy, Rumplestiltskin pushed him out of the way to safety. Rumplestiltskin himself bore the brunt of the collision and the cart had rolled over his leg, shattering his ankle. He walked with a limp and in varying degrees of pain from that day on.

Some of the locals began to be sympathetic, but many were still unkind. Some of the men took to calling him Spindleshanks and the name began to stick. He was no longer known as Rumplestiltskin the spinner, but as Spindleshanks the spinner. Even worse than the fact that people made fun of his injury was the fact that, because of the injury, he could no longer travel to Avonlea to sell his threads and wools and fabrics. He had made a good living for himself before the accident, but now that he could no longer travel to the kingdom's most prosperous market, where nobles had been used to flock to his stall, and from whence he would often return with his bag full of silver and his cart empty, he was beginning to slide further and further into poverty. He began to know hunger in a way that he had not known it since he was a small boy, and there were cold winter days when he had no wood to burn to heat his small home. Soon, all he had of value in the world were his spinning wheel and loom. He usually managed to scrape together just enough from selling wools and blankets at market in the next town over so that he could survive from week to week, but as months and years went by, the future looked ever bleaker.

It was somewhat surprising, then, that a man who had been so beaten down by the world had never spoken a word in anger or raised a fist in retaliation. The circumstances of his life were such that he might perhaps have been justified in lashing out. The circumstances of his life would have made many another man or woman bitter and vengeful, but not Rumplestiltskin. He was, at his core, a kind, decent, honest man, and he never lost those qualities, even when the world and the people in it seemed determined to break him. He never lamented his troubles in the way many others lamented far more minuscule cares: he simply bore them day after day, quietly, never letting his burden show. He never rose to the bait when the younger, more able-bodied men taunted him mercilessly. He never retaliated , never fought back. On the contrary, he was kind and considerate, always sharing what meagre rations he had with the less fortunate. His was a truly good heart, and his soul was made brighter by the fact that the misery he'd known had not managed to tarnish it.

A humble man always, Rumplestiltskin had never wanted much. A warm roof over his head and enough food to fill his belly every day was all his heart desired. If, in some fleeting moment, he wondered what it would be to share his life with someone who loved him as much as he loved her, he never let himself think on it for long. That was clearly not on the cards for him, and he could not miss what he'd never had anyway. One day, though, he learned what it was that he'd been missing.

It happened that, one market day as winter was setting in, the town was busier than usual. Rumplestiltskin hoped that the increased traffic might mean more sales and even a few orders. Despite his misfortunes over the years, and despite the fact that his clients here were not as prosperous as they had been in distant Avonlea, he was still known to be a spinner and weaver of some talent: everything he produced was well made, and he usually managed at least a few sales every market day, though he wasn't making the money he once had.

It was proving to be a good day for trade. Everyone was making money and spirits were high. It seemed the brisk trade was only part of the reason for the good cheer, though: Mother Hubbard, who was tending the stall across the way from Rumplestiltskin, told him that people had turned out to see a royal procession pass by.

'They say the young princess has been touring the kingdom and will pass through on her way back to Avonlea,' she told him. 'They say she'll be of marriageable age soon and she wanted to see her kingdom before she chose a husband to help her rule it. Sounds like a wise young lady,' the old woman said approvingly: 'she'll make a fine queen, just like her mother.'

Rumplestiltskin nodded in agreement. He remembered the markets of Avonlea in the days when Queen Colette was alive. Although her husband was ruler, it was the wise and clever queen who ensured the kingdom's prosperity. After she died, the land's fortunes waned somewhat, but perhaps the young princess and whoever she chose for a husband would be able to bring the kingdom back to its old glory again.

'It will be a bit of excitement for the children anyway,' he said, smiling.

'You must have seen much grandeur at Avonlea,' Mother Hubbard suggested.

He nodded. 'It's a very fine city. I'll wager there's no finer city in any realm.'

'No, indeed,' she agreed emphatically, and smiled kindly. 'Well, you'll shortly see a little of that grandeur when the princess' procession passes.'

Rumplestiltskin said nothing, but he had no intention of going to watch the procession. Being caught in the crush held no appeal for him. No, he'd done a good trade today: he would take his earnings and make his way homeward.

He was doing just that, turning onto the main thoroughfare through town, when he saw two men he knew from his home village. Jones and Nottingham were two of his cruellest tormentors, but today they'd found another victim, a poor old woman, who looked like she hadn't eaten in days. Jones and Nottingham were tossing a piece of bread back and forth between them, laughing. The old woman kept reaching for the bread, but the men refused to hand it over.

After a moment or two, they got bored and walked away towards the tavern. Rumplestiltskin went to the woman, who was clearly frightened and shaken by her ordeal.

'You must be starving, ma'am,' he said. 'Here.' He signalled to the baker, whose stall was just behind them. He handed over some coins and the baker handed him out a loaf. 'Here,' Rumplestiltskin invited, 'eat, please.'

'Child, you look like you can ill afford to spare what you have yourself,' the old woman commented.

'What I have I gladly share,' he said sincerely. 'I won't see you go hungry when I have something I can give. Please,' he said, offering the bread again: 'please take it and welcome.'

She did, reaching out a bony hand and accepting the bread.

'Thank you, dear. May the gods bless you for what you've done.'

'They surely will for such a good deed,' a new voice called.

Rumplestiltskin turned quickly at the sound of the sweet voice and gasped at the sight before him.

Standing in the road, surrounded by soldiers, a smart, though far from ornate carriage waiting behind her, was a young woman dressed in a fine blue gown and a fur-trimmed cloak. Her brown curls shone in the light and she wore jewels around her neck and in her hair. She was a tiny woman, shorter than Rumplestiltskin, who wasn't tall, and the soldiers towered over her in height. There was a presence about her, though, and Rumplestiltskin knew without needing to be told who the fine lady was.

'Your highness,' he breathed, leaning on his staff as he knelt.

The old woman followed his lead, as did other people in the vicinity, all mumbling in greeting to the princess of their realm.

'No, no,' the princess called, coming forward and reaching her hands out. 'You shall not kneel,' she said. 'Stand, sir, and you, madam.'

Rumplestiltskin did as she bade him, looking in surprise into her face. And then he was utterly lost.

The princess was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her brown curls framed a heart shaped face and her clear skin glowed with health and youth and beauty. Her eyes were as blue as a summer sky and they gazed upon him with no scorn for his lowly state, but with something alien to him, something he had never seen: he thought it was respect. Her smile was gentle, almost tender, and he knew he would never forget this moment, when the fair princess, so high above him in stature, had looked at him as if he was someone worth looking at.

In this moment, his heart reached out to her and he knew he could never get it back again. Well, that was alright. It could hardly find a lovelier resting place than with her. Now he was learning what it was to love a woman.

The princess for her part had never seen such kindness as this man had just displayed. It happened that her carriage had been coming along the road when she heard and saw the two men walking away after sharing their sport with the poor woman's bread. Her anger at that quickly turned to surprise and then pleasure when the man with the walking staff had come and bought the finest loaf and entreated the woman to take it. He looked like he could ill afford to spare the coin to buy it, and yet he'd given it gladly. The gesture touched her heart.

'Stop the carriage,' she requested.

The carriage was immediately halted and one of the footmen handed the princess down, where, flanked by her soldiers, she approved the old woman's blessing wholeheartedly.

When they knelt before her, her soul recoiled and she bade them stand. People who had suffered such hardships as they clearly had should kneel for no one.

The man looked into her face in surprise and she took the opportunity to study him more closely. He was older than her by some years. It was hard to tell exactly how many because she suspected that he wasn't as old as he appeared. He'd led a hard life, clearly: she should see it in the lines on his face and the streaks of grey in his hair. He was thin and careworn, beaten down by life, but his eyes were soft and kind, and she had long wished for such eyes in the face of the man she married. She wished for a man as generous and gentle as he, and her heart reached out to him.

She turned to the poor old woman, because she could better work out what to say to her than she could to the man.

'Madam, have you anywhere to bed down at night?' she asked solicitously.

The old woman smiled. 'Gracious lady, you are kind to ask, but I have somewhere not far off. It's small, but it suits my needs.'

'Is it warm and dry? It is almost winter: I would have you spend it comfortably.'

'Quite warm, my lady: quite dry,' the woman assured her.

'But you have not food enough,' the princess went on.

'I have been unwell and unable to earn my living of late,' the woman explained.

'You should be at your ease, madam: you have toiled enough. Will you allow me to provide for you and make you comfortable?'

'Your highness, I never expected such kindness.' The woman sounded genuinely moved.

'It is only a small token,' the princess said: 'I have so much, it makes me happy to share it.'

'Oh, it is a very great token, child,' the woman said, forgetting the proper address for a moment. 'Forgive me: I meant it is a very great token, your highness.'

The princess smiled. 'You are older and wiser than I, madam: you may address me as child and I shall take no offence.'

The woman smiled. 'May the gods bless you too, my dear.'

'They surely will for such kindness,' Rumplestiltskin said fervently, without thinking, and the princess turned her beautiful eyes on him and smiled warmly.

'Captain?' she called then, and a soldier stepped forward.

'Your highness?'

'Select one of your men to escort this lady home. See that she has enough food and that she's comfortable. We will arrange with the traders here that she is sent food and any other supplies she needs once a week.' She looked around at the gathered crowd. 'Anyone who supplies this woman will be well rewarded: you have my word,' she promised.

'Your highness,' the traders acknowledged, bowing low.

The princess was well satisfied with her plan and she turned back to the old woman, smiling.

'You will never work another day in your life,' she promised.

The old woman reached for her hand and the princess gave it gladly.

'Bless you, my dear,' she whispered, and the princess felt the benediction deep in her heart.

'And you, madam,' she returned, and saw the woman's eyes gleam bright with satisfaction.

The woman turned to Rumplestiltskin and took his hand.

'Gods bless you, lad,' she murmured, and he too felt the benediction settle in his heart.

'Gods bless you and keep you,' he returned, and, again, the old woman's eyes gleamed in satisfaction.

One of the soldiers escorted her away then and Rumplestiltskin was left with the princess, utterly at a loss for what to say.

'Good sir,' she began, 'you must let me reward you for your kindness to that poor woman.' She produced a small pouch from inside her cloak.

'F-forgive me, your highness,' he began, 'but I don't wish for compensation.'

She looked at him curiously. 'You could ill afford to buy that bread and yet you did it,' she said.

'I couldn't bear to see her hungry and I can work for my bread: others can't. If you wish to reward me, your highness, would you spare some of your gold for those who really need it?'

The princess' heart was very moved, more than she could ever tell. There was so much she longed to say, but she couldn't find the words. The one thing she could do, though, was make him a promise.

'Will you give me your hand, sir?' she asked softly, holding out hers.

Rumplestiltskin gave his hand to the princess and tried to keep from trembling as she took his hand in both of hers.

'I give you my word that I will do as you ask,' she promised and then she shocked him by dipping into a curtsey.

It was unheard of for anyone of noble blood to show such deference before a commoner and Rumplestiltskin hardly knew what to say. He did the only thing he could think of: he returned the compliment with a bow, and when he straightened up, he saw one of the soldiers' faces and knew he'd done the right thing.

'A peasant knows better than some courtiers how to be a gentleman,' the soldier said audibly and smiled a little.

The princess heard the comment too and smiled at the soldier. The soldier, Will Scarlet, had been her childhood friend and confidant. He knew better than most how very opposed she was to the divisions in class between the nobility and the peasantry and he was probably the only one who wasn't surprised when she curtseyed to the man with the staff.

'I'm a little tired of riding,' the princess said: 'would you do me the honour of walking with me a spell?'

'Of-of course, your highness,' Rumplestiltskin said, honoured and surprised by the gift of her company.

'Allow me, sir,' the soldier who had complimented his manners said, coming and taking the reins of his mule: 'he'll be safe with me for a bit.'

'Th-thank you,' Rumplestiltskin said, and he walked up to the princess, who smiled at him.

They walked side-by-side through the town and Rumplestiltskin found it very strange when people knelt and bowed their heads as they passed. Of course, it was all for the woman at his side, but he couldn't deny that a small part of him was pleased to see the astounded looks on Jones and Nottingham's faces when he and the princess passed. He didn't care how they treated him: he was used to it, but taking bread from an old woman was a new low for them, and for that, he was a little pleased to see them so dumbfounded now.

They passed out of the town and there were thankfully few people to see them now.

The princess sighed in relief. 'That's better,' she said, smiling, 'now I can talk to you properly instead of having to worry about being a princess.' She stopped and turned to face him. 'My name is Belle,' she said, offering her hand.

He stared at her. He couldn't possibly call her by her name: it would be highly improper.

'What do they call you?' she asked, smiling when he finally took her hand. She could tell she'd shocked him.

'They…they call me…Spindleshanks, your highness,' he told her, feeling that he simply couldn't tell her his real name, and that wasn't a lie: they did call him Spindleshanks.

'They call you that?' she asked: 'truly?' She was sure it was some cruel joke and she didn't like it.

'Yes,' he said, having to look away at the disapproving expression on her face.

She didn't think that that was his name, but it was the name he had given her, so it would have to do. He must have his reasons for not giving her his true name.

'I wish you'd let me give you something for your kindness to the old lady,' she entreated, putting her hand on his arm.

Her touch nearly sent him reeling and he had to cough to clear his throat.

'Your company is enough, your highness,' he told her, unable to look her in the eye.

His shyness and humility endeared him to her even more and she squeezed his arm lightly.

'Then perhaps you'd take something of mine as a token of my gratitude?' she suggested.

'I…'

'Come, I know just the thing,' she said, and she signalled for the carriage to approach.

When it came alongside, a footman opened the door and offered to hand her in, but she shook her head.

'I only want my shawl: will you hand it out, Astrid?'

'Yes, your highness,' a woman, presumably her maid, called, and then she handed the princess a piece of dark blue cloth.

'Thank you, Astrid. Come,' she said to Rumplestiltskin: 'come and I'll tell you the story.'

He followed, curiosity getting the better of him, and he watched as she turned the cloth over in her hands for a few moments.

'My mother liked to get out of the castle every now and then,' she began, 'but she hated having guards following her, so she'd disguise herself and go down amongst the people on market days. No one ever knew. My mother had a way of blending in with all walks of life so that no one ever suspected they were talking with the queen.

'One day, not long before she died, she was wandering in the market when she came across a spinner and weaver of some repute. Ladies she knew had bought his threads and cloths, and they'd been bought for her by her maids. He made the finest threads and cloths anywhere, and she had an idea.

'My mother knew that she was dying. She'd known it for a while, I think, and she wanted to make me a gift with her own hands before…before… Well, anyway, she saw a bolt of the most beautiful blue cloth and she decided to make me a shawl.'

She turned the cloth over in her hands again and Rumplestiltskin's heart began to beat fast, because he knew the rest of this story without her having to tell it. Little had he dreamed that he'd spoken with the queen that day!

'She went to speak to the spinner, but she suddenly realised she had no money with her. She apologised and turned to go, but he called her back. She said she thought he read something in her expression and when he asked her what she wanted the cloth for, she told him without hesitation. He had a way about him, she said, a good heart, and my mother was a good judge of character.

'When he heard her tale, the spinner gave her the cloth. She said she had no money with her, but he shook his head and asked her to do a good turn for someone else, and that would be payment enough. Then he gave her something else.' And now she unfolded the shawl to reveal the delicate embroidery in gold thread, the same gold thread he had given the queen more than five years ago.

'It's beautiful, isn't it?' she asked.

He nodded. 'The embroidery is very fine,' he commented.

She smiled. 'My mother had a good hand with a needle. I wish I could sew so well, but she said much of the beauty of her sewing she owed to the fine thread the spinner gave her. I've never seen thread so fine before, and everyone who sees this shawl admires it. I think no one in the kingdom can spin such fine thread, and he just gave a spool of it to my mother because she wanted to make a gift for her child before she died.

'She returned home, but she couldn't forget the spinner or his kind gesture. She tried to find him again, but he never returned to the market: we never knew why.'

That was around the time of his accident with the peddler's cart. He hadn't been back to Avonlea or made the gold thread since.

'Anyway, Mother made my shawl and, when she gave it to me, she told me the story of the generous spinner, and she told me that she hoped I would marry such an honest, kind man one day. When I saw you with the old lady, I remembered her story, so I want you to have this as a token of my appreciation and esteem.' She offered him the shawl. 'Will you take it, sir?' she asked softly.

To refuse would be unthinkable, but to accept back his own wares seemed dishonest. He hesitated.

'Please,' she entreated: 'I want you to have it. You'll make me very happy if you take it.'

'But your mother made it for you: I…'

'She would understand,' she said softly. 'Please take it,' she murmured.

Her beautiful eyes entreated him and he could not refuse.

'Thank you, your highness: I don't know what to say.'

She placed the cloth in his hands and smiled.

'Thank you,' she murmured.

'I'll…I'll treasure it always.'

'I know you will.'

She knew she had to leave: her father expected her before nightfall and she was already late, but she didn't want to go. The thought of leaving him here on the road was unbearable, but maybe if she knew she would see him again… and she knew a way that she could. She smiled at the thought.

'I must go,' she said: 'my father expects me, but I will see you again.'

He looked at her in surprise. She sounded so sure.

'You-you will?'

'Yes,' she said, 'I know it.'

He very much doubted it. She would go on her way, marry her prince, and never think of him, or, if she did, it would be fleetingly, and that was only fitting. He knew that he would think of her as a brief flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness and always be grateful for these moments they'd shared.

'Would you hand me in to my carriage?' she asked.

'I…would be honoured,' he said humbly.

She waited as he folded her shawl carefully into his pack and then she gave him her hand. She would never forget the gentle touch of his hand as he handed her into her carriage and she knew no one would touch her so gently again.

One of the footmen closed the door and she leaned out, reaching out her hand.

Rumplestiltskin gave her his and she squeezed his fingers gently.

'I will see you again,' she told him.

Though he didn't believe so, he nodded, and was rewarded with a smile.

She squeezed his fingers once more and then the carriage was pulling away.

She had no choice but to let go of his hand, but she held on until the last second, and she noticed that he did too. She smiled, and watched him until she could see him no longer.

Rumplestiltskin waited until the carriage was completely out of sight and then he turned and made his way slowly homeward, the docile mule following along behind.

'Well, that was rather a special day,' he murmured, and smiled to himself.

0

Belle thanked Will as he handed her down from the carriage. Her father would want to see her, but she was in no hurry. She was still thinking over the events of the afternoon and a man whose kindness would put many a courtier to shame.

As he walked beside her, Will looked over and saw that she was far away in her mind. He knew exactly where she was. If she weren't a princess, she wouldn't have come home.

He was worried about her. She had dreams that wouldn't easily be reconciled with this life. He'd known her all her life and she'd never been a conventional princess, much to her father the king's dismay. He didn't know if she could fulfil her dreams, but he loved her like a brother and he would help her try.

'Him?' he asked now, knowing she'd know what he meant.

Belle nodded emphatically. 'Him.'

He sighed. 'You don't make things easy for yourself, do you?'

She smiled. 'Easy is vastly overrated.'

'Your father won't like it,' he warned her.

'I know, but he made a promise to Mother.'

Will knew she thought that that would make everything ok, but he knew otherwise. She didn't know how difficult this was going to be, but she was his friend, and that, more than the fact that he owed her his allegiance as the princess of the realm, made him determined to help her.

There we go: chapter one. Thanks for reading :)