Warnings: Character Study, Introspection, Mild Angst, Missing Scene
A/N:Written for mmgage and her prompt Rumple&Belle: Bell, Book and Candle. T'was a little comment ficlet for a fiction-based meme and is being posted at her request - as she had such a marvelous prompt (as you can see) and loved the result enough to encourage me to inflict it upon the masses. This one was rather easy to write, but still a little shaky I'm afraid; this is only my third attempt at Once Upon a Time and the first time it has not been crossed over with any other Fandom. Aside from that, tis (as always) mostly unbeta'd and written in one go, so please forgive any mistakes and/or blatant vagueness. As always, I apologize for any repetition, mispellings, sentence fails, grammatical oh-noes and general horridness. Unbeta'd fic is overly-dark/thinky and unbeta'd.
Disclaimer(s): I do not own the wickedly lovely characters or their land(s). That honor goes to the ABC and the awesome creators E. Kitsis and A. Horowitz. The only thing that belongs to me is this fiction - and I am making no profit. Only playing about!

She almost looked like she belonged here.

In many ways (so many), she did not: she was brightness, light, laughter and life and he...was anything but. Shadows and death followed him - they always had to some extent, but over the last few centuries he had truly lived up to his nickname. He knew the demon's real name, but that was where it's power was housed and he needed that power. He needed the strength magic could get him. And he needed control. He had so little of that. Even now, control was an illusion.

So he held tight to that Name. Tamed the Beast within (subtle, unspoken threats), kept the urge to maim and rip and terrorize in check - so that she wouldn't see it. She believed in him (for some baffling reason), but he could never thank her. Instead he watched her, protected her as best as he could - spells whispered under his breath to keep the pot of tea water from boiling over and burning her, keep her from wandering into that section of the dungeon where the most dangerous implements were housed.

He created a library, just for her. All for her. Because she loved books. Because she loved words. And likely, because she loved to escape this bleak place where she was trapped by a promise with the worst demon this land had ever seen. She could have left. He would release her if she asked - but it never seemed to occur to her.

So she sequestered herself in here, night after night - feet tucked beneath her, book in her hands, hair caught in a clasp at the back of her neck - reading by the soft light of a candle. She had no idea that he had magicked that candle to burn eternally. It would never melt away, it would always be there. It was hers. All of it belonged to her. His own castle (which never really felt like his to begin with), was hers. He didn't really need a housekeeper (what good was magic if it couldn't do all the things required?); but he needed one now.

So he stood in the dark, able to see in through the door, but unable to move himself to disturb her. Anything he truly needed he could fetch himself anyway. He was used to that. He was not used to having this bright creature spreading light and sweetness about his home. His home that was not a home and...

All she had to do was ask.

"Rumple?"

Damn. She had seen him. Lurking. Spying on her.

He may no longer be a man, but he was still human enough to be ashamed. Spying on a lady. Things one Did Not Do. And now that he was a monster -

Retreat or move forward. If he left, she could go back to reading. Back to her book, her candle, her escape from the castle that held her prisoner.

But it was just as likely she would go looking for him, so (decision made), he stepped forward, trying to not look as guilty as he felt (annoying emotions), shrinking in on himself in a way he hadn't for well over three centuries.

"Lady Belle," he answered, trying to not fidget as she studied him quietly, trying to figure out what he was doing there most likely. Trying to figure out why a monster would spy on a lady - and since he was the monster, the implications flicked through his head, bringing a blush to his cheeks. Not that it would be noticed. He never really blush-blushed anymore.

"Are you alright?" She asked softly - and he was taken aback by her tone: fond, mildly exasperated (for being interrupted), but also...worried? Ah, yes. He wasn't being loud and wicked. She sometimes made him forget...even as he made himself remember. He was a low creature before the demon tricked him. He was even lower now (though he presumed a higher status...which both amused and enraged the darkness within).

"I...yes," he said slowly. "I just -"

"Oh dear," she squeaked, closing the book with a soft clap. "I didn't hear the bell again. I am...I am so sorry. I get to reading and I...I am so sorry."

He gaped at her for a moment, then recovered (though not fast enough for his liking), wondering what she was on about. Bell? Bell...oh! The bell. The bell used to summon her if he needed her for anything.

The same bell he was holding in his right claw and -

She was upset with herself. She had done nothing wrong, so he rushed to assure her. Anything to take that paleness away from her cheeks. He hardly needed reminding that he was frightening - that he could instill fear with a smile and a wave of his hand. She usually was not afraid, but there were those times; after all, who wouldn't be afraid with the monster that held you hostage lurking in a doorway, watching you when you thought you were alone?

"Hmmm? Oh! No, dearie - I was just taking it with me. I am soon to retire and wished to inform you. Your duties are over for tonight."

There. That sounded smooth. Plausible. She slowly relaxed back into her chair, relief in her eyes, smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. Whether the smile was born out of that relief or her laughing at him, he could never be sure. Neither was a pleasant idea. But if it meant he could hold onto her a little longer, he would take it. He had taken far worse in his time.

"Well then," she murmured, her smile blazing like the sun in the dim room. "Good night, Rumplestiltskin. Sleep well."

"And you also, dearie," he replied, equilibrium back as he mock-bowed in her direction, pleased as her smile widened a touch, that fondness lighting her eyes and softening the harsh lines of the room.

He managed to retreat with his dignity more or less intact, even as he snuck a glance at her from the doorway, hoping she didn't see. To his relief, she did not - her attention once more on the book in her hands, the candle throwing dim pools of illumination across her face. She escaped again to worlds he could not go, though the small smile still sat upon her lips - intriguing, baffling and beautiful.

She looked almost...happy - and he could feel something warm spark and take root within his heart. He didn't trust it; he knew it wouldn't last long (it never did, happiness could never be his), but he savored the feeling while he could. This new illusion that he willed himself to believe. Illusion had kept him alive for all these years. Yet one more couldn't hurt.

He crept away to his chambers, to his potions, his smaller wheel - sitting in the dark as all monsters should, waiting for the dawn to come. Tomorrow he would forget this, the feeling of peace and contentment. But for tonight, he could have it; a blessing that he didn't know was possible after all this time.

He wouldn't sleep, but he could still dream: and in his dreams a Lady read by candlelight, secure from the monster at the door. His Belle, a book and a candle.

A brief flicker of light against the eternal darkness.