So I wasn't going to post this, but I guess someone decided to attempt to post it here without my permission...Like, I'm kinda tiffed because of that. I posted something that I wrote with my own mind and creativity just to have someone try and take it from me? Sorry guys, I'm a little bummed.
I own nothing but my fangirling heart.
He'd only noticed the arrow protruding from his chest after he'd locked away the deviant calling himself "Robin Hood."
A stupid name for a so-called savior.
He returned to the location of the shooting, questioning whether he would simply sport the arrow a bit longer to scare his newest addition to his castle, the rather stubborn little maid, Belle, or go to the boring hassle of healing himself.
He hadn't seen her since she'd openly gaped at him on his way down to the dungeons with his shooter. Whether she was gaping at the man stupid enough to attempt to kill him, the Dark One, or the arrow sticking out of his chest, he didn't quite know. He had little time to ponder.
He brooded at the end of his large dining table, hands clasped together. It was a nice session of brooding until the maid came bustling into the room, a wash basin in her arms and a towel slung across her shoulder.
She promptly sat the basin down onto the table, water sloshing about as she did so. She turned on her heel to face him, a hand on her hip and a brazen look on her face. "You can't just mope about with an arrow sticking out of your chest, Rumplestiltskin," she chided, as if he were a child.
He simply sneered at her, tossing a hand about as he shrugged. "I can't die, dearie, can't feel pain. Perhaps I'm just too lazy to remove it," he shot.
What came next, he did not expect. The blue eyed maid wrapped both hands around the shaft of the arrow,and before his lightning sharp reflexes could even begin to start working to her away, she'd yanked the arrow from his breast.
He gave an audible cry, eyes wide and offended. He gawked at her as if she'd just told him she loved him, speechless.
"The infamous Dark One, cowering and sniveling over an arrow?" Belle teased softly, placing the arrow aside. "I've read the tales enough to know you could heal yourself with magic," she informed. "Why won't you?"
"I'm setting a new trend, maid. I'm simply hoping the queen will attempt to follow the fad and forget that unlike I, she will simply…" he shrugged, "die."
Belle rolled her eyes, a small smile forming on her lips as she placed the towel in the basin, wringing it out once it was properly soaked. "You just want to remember what it feels like to bleed, don't you?" she resumed, ignoring his insolent remarks. She did seem to fall silent after wringing out the towel, casting a shy gaze towards him.
"You'll need to remove your tunic," she meekly requested.
He stared at her for a long moment, his scowl not fading even the slightest as he begrudgingly removed his leather vest and unbuttoned his blouse, letting it hang from his shoulder.
He carefully watched the girl as he bared more of his disgusting self to her, waiting for her expression to change to that of one who had caught a pungent smell in their nostrils.
She didn't, though. Instead she knelt at his side, carefully moving to dab the wound with her damp cloth.
He gave a hiss, immediately retracting with a harsh glare at her. "That hurts, dearie," he growled. It wasn't a comment, but a threat.
"If you would stay still it wouldn't hurt as much!" the girl replied through grit teeth, her blue eyes meeting his without any sign of fear.
Rumple's shoulders slumped as he pouted, flinching as she resumed dabbing at his wound.
She was quite…spirited, he had to admit, but stubborn. She fought back too much, knew how to outwit him.
Nobody did that.
She carefully dressed his wound and part of him wished to heal himself, just to spite her.
And yet there he sat, transfixed on her concentrated expression, on the way she bit her lip when she was particularly frustrated.
When she was satisfied, she stood, giving a content huff. "There, next time you really should be more careful…"
She plucked the basin from the table and turned on her heel, leaving him.
His hand reached for her, eyes wide and expression rather innocent. "Wait, girl," he called softly. "Belle," he corrected.
She stopped in the doorway, peering back at him.
"Thank you," he called, forcing himself to scowl as she smiled.
That blasted little smile. Always likes she knows something I don't.
Review if you wish to do so! Thanks for reading, dearie.