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.

Summary: It only takes three little words "She was right!" to shatter any hope she'd had for her happy ending, three words to turn true love's kiss into an act of betrayal, and an end to her 'forever' with Rumpelstiltskin in the Dark Castle. Will the diary she leaves behind be enough to make him see the truth in her heart and send him after the woman he loves? We can only hope …

A/n: Another reposting heading your way, dearies. Hope you enjoy reading this one again.

BELLE'S DIARY

By:

CharlotteAshmore

I.

"She was right! She said true love's kiss would break any curse."

She'd played him for a fool. She was nothing but the queen's spy sent to destroy him. How could he be so incredibly stupid not to have seen it? In that one moment as his lips had met hers, he'd felt hope spring to life in his chest, hope his precious perfect girl somehow returned his love. But Belle didn't want him; she didn't love him. She merely wanted to play the hero and kill the beast. His gaze surveyed the damaged he'd wrought in the Great Hall and he snorted. He was a beast all right, one with a great deal of anger issues. This was why he couldn't trust or love or ever let anyone close enough to betray him. It hurt too bloody much!

Belle had been so ecstatic when the curse had begun to slip from his grasp, the small smile on her lips slowly curving into one of brilliant blinding happiness. She'd very nearly succeeded in stripping him of his power, his magic, and she'd been happy about it. For months she'd played him for a fool, making him think she cared for him. She had given him what he craved … human companionship, someone to share his life with to ease his loneliness. She'd offered her friendship with an openness which had astonished him, sharing things from her childhood in Avonlea, her thoughts and fears as she grew older and had been forced to face her role in her father's court and her desires to give it all up to see the world. She'd fascinated him. And the more time he'd spent with her, the more he'd craved her presence in his life.

Belle had never feared him, a fact which had never ceased to irritate him. What kind of girl, what princess wasn't afraid of monsters? Apparently, Belle. They'd spent six months in the castle together before she'd completely lost her unease for him. It had been six months before she'd found herself brave enough to touch him. He'd thought it merely an accident, the slight brush of her fingertips against his when she would hand him his tea … until she'd done it again, and again, and again. Why didn't the green-gold hue of his skin, or the black claw-like talons which served as his nails repulse her? Instead she'd seemed to crave the contact just as much as he had. She would look for excuses to straighten his cravat or brush imaginary specks of dust from the shoulders of his dragon hide coat.

But it had been her hugs which would send his carefully controlled indifference careening into the abyss. He'd found himself wanting to return her embrace, wanting to bury his face in her chestnut tresses and breathe in her scent. He'd needed to feel the alabaster skin of her throat against his lips, needed to feel the expanse of her waist beneath his hands as he'd pulled her tightly against him. He'd found himself needing … her. He'd yearned for her, longed for her, fallen in love with her. He, Rumpelstiltskin, the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the realms, had been taken in by the queen's spy and nearly destroyed. And not by magics more powerful than his own. Oh, no! All it had taken was one mere slip of a girl with the promise of hope and love in her jewel-bright sky-blue eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin was drawn sharply from his musings, could hear her coming down the marble staircase. He was sending her away, having no choice but to break their deal. He couldn't have a traitor living under his roof. He moved to the foyer and waited, refusing to glance up at her … well, maybe just a peek. Damn, she'd been crying! Her nose was a shiny beacon in the gloom and her eyes were red and puffy, tracks of her tears leaving salt trails on her beautiful face. No doubt just another part of her act, he thought, refusing to let her guilt him into asking her to stay.

"Have you collected all of your things, dearie? I don't want a single reminder of you when you're gone," he said, his tone high-pitched, the voice of the imp, not the man, his words meant to wound, to flay. "I'm sure Regina will replace anything you might have forgotten once you return to her with news of your failure. Then again, it might not be wise to let her know you failed at all. We all know how … temperamental … she can be." The slight stiffening of her shoulders assured him his barbs had struck true.

"I have nothing of my own," she answered, her lower lip trembling, betraying the hurt which was so close to the surface. She carried only her cloak with her. It would be so easy to destroy her composure completely and have her sobbing and weeping and begging at his feet in mere moments. But he loved her still. No matter what she had done, he still loved her, still wanted her, still needed her. He couldn't bring himself to cause her any more pain than necessary.

She held herself straight and proud as she preceded him out the door, her head held high only to stop on the top step leading into the courtyard at the sight of the carriage. She looked at him inquiringly, her brows raised suspiciously.

"Mr. Dove will escort you home, dearie, or wherever it is you wish to go," he told her, his teeth clenched, and his lip curled back over his teeth in a show of disgust to hide the pain ripping his heart apart and making him want to curl up at her feet and beg her to stay.

Belle narrowed her gaze on him. Theodore Dove was Rumpelstiltskin's hired man from the village, a lonely widower who made coin by doing odd jobs for the Dark One, but she could never remember Rumpel ever asking him to do something like this before. Hope flared in her heart. "Why? Why do you care?"

"I don't. But there are all sorts of vile things in these mountains which could do you harm. I just don't want you to come to a nasty end on my land and have your rotting carcass fouling up the place. It'll scare off potential clients," he sneered, his words vicious poisonous barbs meant not just to harm, but maim and mutilate what was left of her heart. He couldn't have done as much damage if he had struck her and she stepped back away from him, turning on her heel with a strangled sob and bounded up into the carriage. He moved to the front of the conveyance and spoke quietly to his man. "Don't let any harm come to her."

Dove glanced down at the imp who he'd always considered to be more than his employer, but his friend as well and he refused to bite his tongue even if he spent the rest of his days trekking along on his belly as a snail. "It doesn't seem she could come to more harm than what you've already done, milord."

Rumpelstiltskin ignored the man and warded the carriage to ensure Belle would be protected on her journey home. The windows were closed, and the shades drawn, yet still he could hear her muffled sobs, sobs he didn't want to admit tore at his heartstrings and made his stomach roil as the carriage wended its way to the gates, each rotation of the wheels bringing her one step farther out of his reach. He stood motionless in the center of the courtyard, his amber eyes fixed on the last place he'd seen the conveyance, his ears attuned to the last sound of its wheels on the mountain path. And then, just as quickly as she'd entered his life, she was gone.

He retreated to his laboratory in the northwest tower and locked the door. He sealed the front gates with a thought, warding off anyone who would dare to interrupt his morose brooding and barred the front doors. The entirety of the Enchanted Forest could burn to ash and he couldn't have cared less. He stood at the window, staring out in the direction of his love's kingdom, cursing himself for a fool for falling for her tricks, cursing Regina for her machinations and manipulations in her quest to destroy him and cursing Belle for her lies. For three days, he didn't sleep, he didn't eat, and he didn't spin, waiting for the moment when Dove returned with the carriage, waiting to see if Belle would defy him and return. When his man did return with an empty carriage, Rumpelstiltskin sought out the sanctuary of his bedchamber to lose himself to the exhaustion which plagued him. That was where he found it.

The floral scent he associated with Belle, one of roses and lilacs and heather still lingered in his room. She had been forbidden to enter his chambers, but his rules no longer applied in the light of her leaving and she'd wanted to make sure he would find it. Her precious diary, the only thing she'd brought with her from Avonlea, refusing to leave it behind. He knew the value of beloved items such as this and he'd been intrigued by the small red leather-bound book. But he'd never asked about it and she'd never offered to appease his curiosity. He thought she'd had it tucked somewhere beneath the folds of her cloak when she'd left. Now it was there for his perusal, lying innocently enough on his pillow, a single slip of folded parchment lying next to it. His hand trembled as he reached to pick up her letter. How many more lies could she possibly have to impart? Only the diary could possibly hold the truth. After all, why would she tell lies to herself? These were her innermost thoughts and feelings written in her own hand. But why would she leave it for him, in his room, on his pillow where he was sure to find it and read for himself what she had written over the course of her time in his home?

He unfolded the letter she'd left for him and her bold looping penmanship reached out to him and caused him to frown as he read …

My darling Rumpel,

I have left you my diary, a gift for you … the only thing I have left to give. Burn it, rip it to shreds or lock it away. The choice is yours. You once teased me that I was trying to discover the monster's weaknesses. I didn't want to take the chance I've written anything in my diary which could betray you or cause you harm if it happened to fall into the wrong hands. Despite what you believe, I never betrayed you.

Yours,

Belle

He tossed the letter aside with a snort, thinking it another of her tricks, dismissing the clenching of his heart as he read her words. He couldn't ever remember being anyone's darling, especially not to his first wife. But he would have liked to have been Belle's. His body was weary and his eyes heavy as he stripped out of his clothes and crawled under the covers. The little red book lay innocuously on the pillow next to him and he tucked his hand beneath him to keep from reaching for it. But his will had always been compromised when dealing with Belle. His desire to know her even just a wee bit better urged him to open the book. Perhaps just one entry. One from the beginning before he'd ever made that deal with her, before she'd been drawn into the queen's clutches and turned into a spy. He propped himself on his pillows, rested the little book on his bare chest and began to read.

5th of August

Today is my birthday. I can't seem to find any joy at the prospect of celebrating my birthday while my friends and countrymen are dying on the battlefield trying to push the ogres back. Papa presented me with this new diary since the other has been filled for a while now. I know he means well, but I will not condone revelry until the war comes to an end.

I also could have done without his newest decree. Now that I am of age, he wishes for me to marry. It doesn't matter that I do not wish to marry. I am a princess and I must submit to my duty. I must marry and produce an heir for the throne. In other words, I must be some man's property and become a brood mare for his sons. This is not the life I wanted for myself. I want to see the world, have an adventure and perhaps find someone whom I can love, someone who will treat me as his equal. I don't want to be a possession. I want to be an equal partner to someone … it's only a dream. I fear there will never be anyone in the realm who can love me as I wish. True love is a fairytale meant to encourage the imagination of children, not to be sought by a woman of eighteen who should know better.

People have been telling me all my life I need to get my head out of the clouds … or better yet, out of my books. They think me odd because I would rather spend an afternoon reading than learning to sew or dance or any of the many courtly duties I must attend. Papa says my books are filling my head with ideas which are better suited to scholars, that I am just a princess with her own role in life. Bah! I don't want to be a princess!

Rumpelstiltskin fought to hold his eyes open, fighting the drowsiness which weighed heavily on his eyelids and threatened to make them slam closed for the next six hours. He was fascinated by his Belle's elegant, looping scrawl on the pages relating her life in her own words, and he wanted to read more, to know more about her. In the next moment he was cursing himself. He needed to stop thinking of her as his. She wasn't his, had never been. And even if she was the most innocent maid in the realm, completely cleared of any duplicity, she'd never want him after he'd so callously booted her from his home. Instead, he tried to concentrate on her next entry.

6th of August

Gaston has returned from the front for three days at the very least. I've missed him terribly. After all, having my dearest friend leading our armies against an unstoppable horde of ogres is not how I wish to have him spend his days. I just wish he would cease pestering me to marry him.

He embraced me in a hug which threatened to rob me of breath in his excitement. "I have missed you so much, Belle. I'm so sorry I couldn't be here for your birthday," he said to me. I could tell he was sincere, and it made me uncomfortable to see the longing in his gaze.

"I've missed you as well, Gaston. I'm quite relieved you have returned at all," I told him, leading him over to sit on the stone bench beneath our plum tree. We had planted it in our seventh year together in the palace garden, under the watchful eyes of my papa. It is our designated spot. Many a time when he sought to escape his father's strictures, he would meet me under our tree and find solace in my company. It is only of late, with the threat of war, that he's decided he is in love with me.

"Have you given any thought to my proposal, my darling?" he asked.

"I cannot marry you, Gaston."

"Whyever not?"

"Because when you kiss me, I feel like I'm kissing my brother … er … if I had one," I tried to explain. "I just don't love you in that way. You are my best friend and I do love you, but I don't have passion or desire for you."

He sat down heavily on the bench and shrugged, smiling sadly at me. "Many marriages begin without love. Perhaps if we gave it a chance to grow?" he suggested hopefully.

I ushered him back into the castle, eager to change the subject. I didn't want what little time we had to spend together to be tarnished by talk of a marriage which wasn't going to happen. As much as I care for him, I can't imagine his touch on my skin, his lips caressing my own or his body pressing into mine.

The imp huffed a tiny giggle. So, Gaston must have been the oaf who had tried so valiantly to protect Belle that night in her father's war room. The boy had been in love with her. But his Belle didn't hadn't wanted to settle for an arranged marriage. She'd wanted to marry for love. It made him wonder if she would have accepted his suit if he'd asked. No! No, no, no, no, NO! He would not be treading down that road tonight. He skimmed over the next few entries until he came to one which caught his interest.

Journal Entry 10th of September

Papa has fallen ill. He is expected to recover, but I fear the illness has frightened him terribly. He has decreed that Gaston and I are to be married. He fears if he does not force my hand, I will never choose a husband and produce an heir for the throne. My fears have been realized, but all of my protests fall on deaf ears. Of course, Gaston is insanely ecstatic his dreams are coming true and he'll forever have me in his life and in his bed, bound to him for eternity. Blech! It almost feels incestuous. How can that be right? I fear the bonds of our friendship will suffer if I am forced to go through with this marriage. Why can't he see I am not in love with him? He is a good and decent man, one who deserves to have his wife love him with all her heart. Not one who can offer him naught but friendship. What if marriage ruins what we do have, and we end up hating each other? I don't want to become bitter and resent him for something which isn't even his fault. Life isn't fair!

Rumpelstiltskin smiled. He could very well imagine her stamping her dainty little foot in a fit of temper. Laying the book down across his chest, he rubbed wearily at his tired eyes. He longed for sleep to claim him and grant him peace from the thoughts which plagued him and the too real absence of his caretaker. He missed her so much. The castle, enchanted as it was, seemed to feel just as depressed as her master, a dark pall having fallen over the corridors. Even the torches didn't seem to glow as brightly as when she'd been here. Why had she had to betray him? He let his eyes slipped closed as the dam of tears spilled forth against his will. Unable to fight it a moment longer, he succumbed to sleep, Belle's diary clutched tightly to his chest.

A/N: Please drop me a line and let me know what you think.