Summary: In which Belle gets her kiss, breaks his curse, and nothing goes according to plan. True Love can break any curse, but even curse breaking comes at a cost. Thus, Regina does wonder, for quite some time, if she might have won, after all.

Or, the one in which True Love is no guarantee of "happily ever after", and Rumplestiltskin makes a deal he might not be able to control. Blatantly and defiantly AU after "Skin Deep," set in the Enchanted Forest.

At All Costs

"That's the thing about true love, dearie. It can slip through your fingers. It's the most powerful magic in the world, the only magic powerful enough to break any curse. It must be protected at all costs."

Prologue—Belle has not fallen in love with a hero. She has not fallen even for a particularly good man. But she loves him, and he loves her. She can see that on his face when she turns to look at him one last time instead of marching out of the dungeon has she had planned, head held high and never looking back.

"You regret it already," she whispers instead of storming out. He does not deny her words. Are those tears in the suddenly-almost-human amber eyes?

She does not rush into his arms. He does not turn into a shining prince then and there, transformed by her love. Theirs is not a straightforward fairytale, for he is Rumplestiltskin and most things, he would tell you, are his fault. But he allows her to stay, and some weeks later, even listens to her tearful explanation. He decides not to blame her, and she forgives him his reaction once she learns a little bit about the Evil Queen.

He refuses to openly admit his feelings until it is almost too late. But the months go on, and they grow closer, and perhaps she begins to teach him courage. Or perhaps he begins to remember a feeling called home. The soft touches become more common, and they talk. He is more fascinating than any book, and Belle is so far gone that she's nearly forgotten what life was like without him, other than boring. Theirs is True Love, even if they never speak of it.

But they are not conventional fairytale characters, and when he does kiss her, it does not bring about a happy ending. True Love's Kiss can break any curse, and is the most powerful magic of any world, but it is no guarantee of a happy ending.

After all, would Regina have pointed her in this direction if t'were that simple?

Magic always comes at a price.

Chapter One—In hindsight, he should have been more cruel, but near on a year after taking Belle away, he figured he might owe her something. Oh, not on account of their deal—they had both fulfilled that bargain and moved onto something else entirely—but because she was Belle. And because he loved her, much though he was certain he would never tell her that.

So he sent her home in style, with a coach full of gifts, anything and everything she could imagine giving the friends and family she'd left behind. Saying "no" to her was impossible when all he wanted in life was to see her grateful smile. If that made him weak, then so be it. One look at Belle was almost enough to make him forget he was supposed to be evil. For centuries, he had focused all of the latent love left in his little black heart on his lost son, and yet Belle taught him, told him, that a heart had room for many loves. Much to his surprise—and no small amount of terror—Rumplestiltskin was discovering that she was right.

Perhaps there was a pattern at work here. When she scared him most, he tried to send her away.

There was plenty of warning, this time, and Belle planned her visit with a singing heart. She was even able to send a letter ahead to her Papa to let her know she was coming, and talked Rumplestiltskin out of delivering it with a gruesome black beast of some sort. She received his shocked reply within a week, and danced around the Dark Castle for hours with it in her hands, flinging her arms around Rumplestiltskin and resisting the urge to cover the infuriating man in kisses.

Her Papa was waiting for her when the gorgeous coach—the one she studiously did not ask Rumplestiltskin how he acquired, other than to ascertain that he'd made a deal rather than killed someone. Her escort for the journey was a properly intimidated Gaston, whose presence as a rose on the table Rumplestiltskin had confessed to two months previously. Her former fiancé had spent the interval in the dungeon while Belle had tried to reason with him. She had limited success. Rumplestiltskin, however, managed far better by avoiding reason entirely, and Gaston behaved himself.

"Papa!" She flew into Sir Maurice's arms, and he held her as if he would never let go. She had missed him so much, so very much, and Belle clung to him, too.

"Oh, my darling girl." Her Papa choked out the words. "When you wrote we were certain it had to be some trick of his."

Belle giggled despite her own happy tears. "No trick, Papa. Rumplestiltskin is very particular about keeping to his deals." She pulled back to look him in the eye. "And so am I, Papa. I can only stay one month, and then I return."

"Belle…"

"No," she said firmly. "I will visit again, when he allows it, but I will leave in a month. I must, Papa."

Nobody decides my fate but me, Papa, she didn't say. Belle and Rumplestiltskin had discussed how much truth to tell her father before she left. Explaining would be complicated, seeing as how Belle wasn't entirely sure what her actual role was now. She was hardly a servant—magic saw to the cleaning now that she'd bullied him into keeping the castle presentable and he'd coaxed her out of scrubbing random floors. Belle was more of a companion, Rumplestiltskin's best friend who he enjoyed showering with expensive gifts and courting in his own odd way.

She'd tried telling him I love you once more, but he'd shushed her with a finger to her lips and changed the subject, his amber eyes telling her too much and too little all at the same time. The next day he'd given her a second library's worth of books—ones he hadn't already owned—and had reluctantly allowed Belle to drag him into an impromptu dance around the castle. She knew how he felt, knew he was too afraid to say it, and for the moment was content with just knowing. She was patient; sooner or later, she'd convince him that he was worthy of love. In the meantime, she laughed with him, danced with him, and accepted the gifts he hesitantly gave her with a smile. But if she told her father that, he'd likely assume Rumplestiltskin demanded sexual favors of her.

If only she could be so fortunate, or things were that simple.

"Let's not argue." Her father wrapped her in another bone-crushing hug. "I've missed you so much!"

"I missed you, too, Papa."

Letting her go, Maurice turned to greet Gaston with almost as much enthusiasm, wringing his hand excitedly. "And you, Sir Gaston! We thought we had lost you when you went after my Belle. Welcome home, lad."

"Thank you, My Lord." Gaston's posture was stiff, but Maurice seemed too excited to notice.

"You must tell us of your journey, and how you came to escort Belle home again."

"He turned me into a rose," the knight complained with a scowl.

Belle let out a decidedly unladylike squeak. It wouldn't have been so funny if Gaston hadn't been so ungracious to Belle after she'd wheedled Rumplestiltskin into turning him back. Two months in the dungeons had made him polite but not happy, and he shot her a dirty look for snickering. She flashed him an innocent smile.

"Far more civilized than killing you, I would say," she said sweetly. "He did turn you back, and you're home now."

Gaston glowered. Pouted. "So I am."

Belle grabbed her father by the hands. "Come! Show me everything I have missed!"

The town had come back to life in her absence. People were everywhere again; the market was bustling as they walked through it, with cheerful people waving to Belle and her father as they walked through. Market stalls overflowed with goods; trade had obviously started flowing again once the ogres were gone. The town looked prosperous in ways that Belle remembered from her childhood, happy and bright and beautiful.

She had been terrified that they would reject her, but the shouted greetings were welcoming, and she heard more than a little sympathy in the voices of old friends. Some of them looked worried for her, but others were just happy. After so long closeted in the Dark Castle or in the town at the bottom of the hill (mountain, more like; why did Rumplestiltskin persist in calling it a hill?), the sudden press of people was more than a little overwhelming, but Belle did her best to smile, wave back, and try hard not to think about what little sarcastic remark Rumplestiltskin would have to say.

She missed him already. Dreadfully.

Finally, they reached the inside of the castle, and it was all Belle could do not to sigh in relief. She loved all of their people, but holding her true thoughts inside was exhausting. None of them can understand. She loved them, but the town looked terribly small now. She had left the Dark Castle and its territories several times, accompanying Rumplestiltskin on a few trips that he ostentatiously took to make deals, but Belle really suspected were to show her some of the most magnificent places a girl could dream of. But even then there was much more privacy; people didn't tend to botherthe Dark One, and if anyone so much as irked her, he could whisk her away in the blink of an eye. Or whisk those bothering heraway, if the mood struck him, which it sometimes did.

If they were at home, they'd be having tea right now, she realized with as sinking loneliness. He'd be giggling over something, she'd have her nose in a book until he stole it, and she'd likely wind up chasing him around trying to get it back. He never used magic in those games of keep away, unless it was to control the sometimes unruly furniture. Theirs was an odd kind of life, but it was…home.

"Belle?" her father prompted her gently. "Are you all right?"

She turned to him, putting on a bright smile. "Of course I am, Papa. I was just thinking."

"You sound so wistful."

"I suppose I do."

The honest answer was accompanied by a mysterious smile; Belle didn't want to lie to her father, but dared not tell the complete truth. After all, who could believe that she missed the Dark One jumping off of furniture as she chased him because he'd stolen her newest book? The thought of telling her Papa about how Rumplestiltskin had sprained his ankle in a fall off the biting stairs made the memory lose a little bit of its humor. He wouldn't understand and would probably assume that Rumplestiltskin had somehow enchanted her. Thinking that was probably easier than believing the Dark One had a special charm all of his own, and that Belle liked him better than any of the innumerable suitors she'd had over the years.

Belle forced herself to shrug nonchalantly. "I'm just thinking of how different things look when you've been gone for some time."

"I imagine you have not seen…much, in the past year," her father said, squeezing her arm gently.

"Oh, no." Belle turned to him with a glowing smile before she could think to tell a partial truth. "Rumplestiltskin's taken me all kinds of lovely places. We've got to Agrabah, Lake Nostos, the Forbidden Palace, Mount Olympus—"

She cut herself off abruptly as her father's eyes grew wider with shock. Belle gulped.

"He takes you with him?" Maurice demanded. "For what?"

"Well. Um." She took a deep breath. Because he said he'd take me anywhere, put the world at my feet, and if that doesn't mean 'I love you', nothing does. And I believe him. "I've always wanted to travel, so Rumplestiltskin said he'd—"

"Don't say his name, Belle!"

This time, when she clamped her mouth shut, it was to keep a giggle from sneaking out. Belle knew better than most that calling his name would summon him, but she also suspected that Rumplestiltskin could tell the difference between her talking about him and actually summoning him. However, that distinction would probably be lost on her father.

"Sorry, Papa. I've just gotten used to, you know, using his name. I have to call him something, after all."

Her father's face was a disturbing shade of purple by now, and Belle tried to smile reassuringly. She'd said too much, but how did you go back from that?

"I brought gifts," she said brightly, changing the subject. "Would you like to see them?"

Maurice frowned deeply. "Gifts from him."

"Gifts from me, Papa."

He had wondered if being away from her would help. Or hurt. Or something. Master of change that he was, he couldn't force this issue to play out according to his plan, because Rumplestiltskin didn't have a plan. He knew what he wanted, and knew what he couldn't have. Couldn't wasn't a word he liked to hear, but there it was: a fact. Giving in to his desires would make him lose everything, and yet he wanted her like he had never wanted anyone before. Even the darkness constantly hovering in the back of his consciousness wanted Belle, terrified of what she represented though it was.

Now more than ever, that ever present darkness weighed him down. Zoso had been right. He had made a deal without understanding anything about the power he was taking on, and the quiet and unassuming spinner left in the back of Rumplestiltskin's mind still insisted that he would not have stabbed Zoso if he'd known what it would cost. Oh, he had gained power—such power!—but he had lost his soul. In those first crucial months, even his love for Bae had not been enough to keep him grounded. The darkness sank its teeth into his soul, and the power sang with bloodlust, with vicious fury he could never quench, no matter how many he killed. The more he tried to sake the thirst, the worse the fire became, turning a good man into a monster.

Losing Bae had made him worse, had taken away his only reason to even try to restrain himself, little though he'd managed. In the first years after that loss, Rumplestiltskin had taken his rage, his loneliness, and his pain out on the rest of the world. And then, somehow, he had learned to manage the darkness. He'd learned to own a small part of his own soul, learned to appease the curse—and magic itself—with a price, and had thus managed to inch away from the edge. The difference was slight, but there was indeed a difference, and he told himself it was enough.

It had been enough until he'd demanded a girl on a whim, looking at her and knowing she was important, but never expecting her to be important to him.

Rumplestiltskin had alternately mocked and admired True Love throughout his life. But he had never once expected to find it. He had loved Milah, once, though whatever affection she once felt for him had been erased by his cowardice. He had loved Cora, too, had been intoxicated by the idea of having a dark witch by his side while they both reveled in the darkness they created. He had loved the idea of Cora as much as he'd loved Cora herself, loved what they could be together, even as that small corner of his soul warned him that he might just be closer to toppling over edge of madness than ever before. Yet Rumplestiltskin had been so lonely that he'd ignored the warning signs, and his heart—which he was not so fool as ever to rip out—had paid the price. Cora's betrayal had cured him of loving forever—or so he thought.

And then True Love changed everything. He had sworn to never love another when he lost Bae, and yet there was Belle. Belle. And suddenly he wanted everything normal people could have, lives monsters weren't granted.

Less than four days apart, and he burned for her already. How could he last an entire month?

"Have I offended you, Dark One?" his current would-be customer asked timidly, bringing him back to the present with a bang.

He snarled wordlessly in annoyance. "You will if you keep interrupting me, dearie."

Duchess Aurelia flinched. Like many others, the foolish woman was trying to barter for more power, for the right to overtake a nearby duchy because the neighboring Duke of the Frontlands was a fool. Rumplestiltskin was actually inclined to grant her the assistance she wanted, out of spite if nothing else. All it would take would be a minor matter of incapacitating a certain enemy general and misleading the very same army he'd once been a part of—but he wasn't going to do it without exacting a price. And looking at the very vain woman in front of him, he knew exactly what he wanted.

Just for the hell of it, just to keep them all on their toes, he'd ask for something normal this time around. Rumplestiltskin giggled.

"I do apologize. I—"

"Do shut up," he snapped, just to watch her jump again.

Belle might be a good influence on him, but he was still the Dark One.

"I want your jewels, dearie. Every last one of them."

Days turned into weeks, and Belle slipped back into her old life, more or less. Seeing old friends—safe and sound from the war!—was wonderful, but Avonlea almost seemed to have faded in her absence. It was like her old home was somehow less colorful than she remembered, more dull…and three weeks passed before Belle understood that it was her life that changed. She was used to more than the small castle and town her father's title granted him, and it actually hurt to realize that she'd grown. The few stories she shared, of safe trips and innocent encounters, hinted at things even those who had known her for her entire life could never understand, and she yearned to curl up in the library at Rumplestiltskin's side and share a laugh over a good book.

She had never expected to be so ready to leave home, not when she'd been so excited to come back. But life here was so simple, so…boring. The Dark Castle was anything but. Their relationship was nothing if not complicated, but it was also an adventure.

None of them would understand why she missed him, or why Belle grimaced when her father held a ball to celebrate her birthday. Apparently he'd forgotten that she preferred books to ball dresses, or maybe this was just her Papa's way of trying to make everything normal again. She'd accepted that mostly because he was trying so hard and loved her so much. However, she did draw the line at his insistence that Gaston escort her to the ball.

"Papa, he's not my betrothed any longer," Belle objected.

"Of course he is, darling. Neither of us have given up home on freeing you someday."

Leave Rumplestiltskin and commit herself to a boring life of birthing Gaston's babies? Even if she hadn't been in love with Rumplestiltskin, she would not have wanted to leave the fascinating life she'd gained.

"Rumplestiltskin turned him into a rose the last time Gaston tried to 'free' me," she pointed out reasonably. "Next time he'll probably kill him."

"Belle—!"

"Gaston did promise not to return, and no one breaks a deal with Rumplestiltskin. Not without dire consequences."

Just hearing Rumplestiltskin's name made her father flinch. Was it terribly disloyal of her to wish Rumplestiltskin might show up and scare some sense into her father?

"Sweetheart, we all know that," Sir Maurice replied shakily.

Belle sighed. "Then remember that I made a deal with him, too, Papa. For forever. And I won't break it, either."

"Of course not. I only…wish. That's all."

Looking back on it later, Belle should have realized there was something behind his easy agreement, but she was too happy to hear her father give in to notice it immediately. Instead, she agreed to be escorted by Gaston if her father would speak to him about finally breaking the years-old betrothal, and felt like she'd won at least one round.

The birthday ball wasn't as bad as she expected, and Belle did enjoy the dancing. Her clumsiness never really translated to the dance floor, and Gaston was a marvelous dancer, even if he did lead like they were taking part in military maneuvers. But he never put a foot wrong, and for a little while, Belle could lose herself in the music and pretend that no one was judging her. Unfortunately, that feeling did not last.

The awkward, pitying looks were bad enough. Her father's advisors and friends were far worse.

"Lady Belle, I am glad to see you looking so well," Sir Francois said amicably when she had paused to socialize. Courtesy demanded that she greet even those she did not like, but if she could have avoided this man, Belle would have.

Francois du Rand was a cousin on Belle's mother's side of the family, one of the richest landowners in Avonlea. His people had been devastated by the Ogres and were still struggling to rebuild, but Sir Francois was dressed as richly as ever, cloaked in expensive silk and jewels. She'd heard his castle had been the first structure rebuilt, too, more luxurious than ever despite the fact that many of his people still lacked roofs over their heads. He'd always been self-centered, and the best thing about that old betrothal to Gaston was that she hadn't wound up as the third Lady du Rand.

"Thank you, Sir Francois," Belle replied with a strained smile, wishing she'd not worn such a low cut gown.

"Thinking of your sacrifice still saddens me," the old lecher said. "It's such a…waste, to see you chained for life to such a monster."

"Rumplestiltskin is a man of his word, My Lord." And not a monster.

Interestingly, he did not flinch, even though she'd intentionally used Rumplestiltskin's name to intimidate du Rand. "So we all hear, my dear. And I am very…relieved to discover that you are weathering your horrible existence so bravely. And beautifully, of course."

"My life is hardly terrible," Belle replied stiffly. "And even if it were, the safety of our people is worth any discomfort."

"Indeed it is," he replied smoothly, obviously all but drooling at whatever mental images he'd conjured of Belle's 'horrible existence.'

"Excuse me." She turned away with a polite smile, only to be stopped by du Rand's hand on her arm.

"Belle. This may be forward of me"—he licked his lips—"but if you ever need…shelter from the Dark One, do let me know. I'm sure we could work something out."

His touch made her shudder in ways Rumplestiltskin's never had, not even in the beginning when he'd thrown her into a dungeon and then shouted at her to stop crying. Du Rand was a predator in ways even the Dark One was not, and made Belle feel like a terrified and cornered creature. It took all of her self-control to keep her voice level. "Excuse me."

Belle yanked away, and strode to her father's side, pretending she didn't notice how du Rand's eyes followed her from behind.

Back at the Dark Castle, he looked at the stack of jewels disdainfully, after having ignored it for over two weeks. Surely there was something in that massive monument to expensive living that Belle would find attractive. Duchess Aurelia was widely known for her beauty and good taste, after all, though Rumplestiltskin had a feeling that giving up her jewel collection had pained her more than the thought of those who might die during her conquest of a neighboring duchy ever would. She'd even tried to seduce him out of taking her expensive babbles! As if a superficial and arrogant woman like her would ever interest him.

Not having Belle in the castle made things too quiet. He'd demanded her on a whim, and yet now couldn't imagine living without her there. What would he do if she decided she wanted to stay home and begged him to let her leave? Just thinking on that made him close his eyes on the pain.

He'd let her stay, of course, and demand something stupid in exchange, just to keep up the appearances of striking a deal while making her happy. If she had any sense at all—and his Belle was nothing if not sensible—she would want to stay with her father, so Rumplestiltskin had best steel himself against that day. Six days away, it was. Less than a week. What would he do with himself when she sent a letter—or worse yet, came herself—asking to change their deal?

He could get another maid, but magic saw to the cleaning well enough, and always had. Besides, where would he find one with so much fire and intelligence, who wasn't afraid of him and even—Oh, don't think it. Think it and you're through.

I am such a coward.

Sitting at his wheel and spinning couldn't even make him forget the feel of her lips on his, the feel of something other than darkness singing inside him, demanding love vice destruction. Reckless and courageous in ways he'd never been, not in his entire life, he'd wanted to collapse into her arms and give everything up. Just like that. Drop the power, break the curse, and just be someone worthy of the woman he—

There was no use denying it even in the privacy of his own mind. He loved her, and if she could break the curse with a simple kiss, it had to be True Love. True Love for Rumplestiltskin. What a ludicrous concept.

She would come back for that, though. His own fears were getting the better of him, and even if he wouldn't say the words out loud, he'd make sure she knew. And he'd give her something better than this odd little life of theirs, somehow. He'd think of something.

"Oh, I won't ride fast, Babette, really. Please say you'll come with me," Belle begged her old maid and confidante.

"My Lady, I'm sure your father would prefer you stayed inside. It's cold out."

Belle laughed and squeezed her old friend's arm. Babette had been with her since she was a small girl, more of a playmate in childhood than a servant. They were only a few years apart in age, and Belle had missed her almost as much as she had missed her father. Babette had never been as strong of a rider as Belle (who, truth be told, wasn't terribly well practiced, either), but they had often gone riding together before the Ogres came to attack.

"It's only a little brisk. No harm done, and we won't be gone long." Smiling, she pulled Babette along, their arms linked just like they'd been in the old days. "Look, our horses are already waiting for us in the courtyard."

The smile on Babette's face froze. "Who are those men, My Lady?"

A group of cloaked and hooded men had just entered the courtyard, heading in their direction. Their cloaks were maroon, trimmed in various colors detonating their ranks within Avonlea's Holy Order. Belle had seen them many times growing up, and throughout the war with the Ogres, during which they did indeed do good works and save many lives, but she'd always thought that they dressed rather richly for a group of men supposedly dedicated to goodness and charity. They were supposed to be opposed to self-indulgence, yet had never really looked the part.

"Just clerics," she said dismissively, turning to pay attention to her horse.

Babette's gasp alerted her moments before Belle felt the hands on her arm. "Lady Belle," one of the clerics intoned in a gravelly voice. "You're to come with us."

"Excuse me?" Belle asked with more confusion than fear. Oh, she'd heard harrowing tales of the clerics, of course, but they had always been very polite to her as a Lord's daughter.

"Bishop Chesson has reviewed your situation and has realized that it is the Holy Order's duty to free you from the Dark One's enchantments. Your path to redemption will not be easy, My Lady, but you will find absolution if you trust in the Holy Order and our faith."

She pulled away from him angrily. "I am not under any enchantment, Cleric…?"

"Cleric Perold, Lady Belle." He met her eyes, but the hunger in them reminded her of Sir Francois, not the kindly old clerics Belle remembered from childhood. Perold was about her age, and all but drooling down the front of her dress.

"Well, Cleric Perold, as I said, I am under no enchantment. I am simply trying to go for a ride with an old friend during my time at home. So, if you will excuse us, we will be leaving."

She never got the chance to fully turn back to her horse before Perold said to his companions: "Take her!"

"What?" Belle yelped, spinning around to discover two clerics reaching for her as Perold smiled hungrily. Suddenly, every harrowing tale of scourges and flails and purification she'd ever heard jumped to the front of her mind, and Belle fought madly as the two men each grabbed an arm.

Her right heel struck one in the left knee, hard, and he howled in pain. That made the third cleric grab for her, and she struggled even more wildly, catching the new cleric in the face with her nails. They hadn't expected her to be so intransient; perhaps they'd thought she'd go willingly. But looking into those four leering faces made Belle panic, and no one decided her fate but her.

"Babette, get my father!" she shouted, evading the hands that tried to clap over her mouth. "Let go of me!"

"She has been possessed by the Dark One, brothers!" Perold thundered. "Hold her tightly!"

She bit the hand that clamped down on her mouth, only to be struck hard in the face. Stars swirled before her eyes, and Belle tasted blood. Another blow came down, this time on her nose, and blood snorted everywhere. Gasping out a cry, she tried to bite again, only to be hit again on the left side of the face.

"Belle!" her father's voice carried across the courtyard, and she managed to turn her head far enough to see him running towards her. Bishop Chesson was at his side, however, pulling on his arm until her father was forced to stop, fighting against the hold of the holy man.

"Papa!"

Movement to her left caught her eye, and then Perold dropped a bag over her head. The sudden darkness was even more terrifying than their lecherous looks, and Belle felt ropes winding around her wrists as they forced her arms behind her back. At least one set of hands wandered slightly, squeezing her breasts under the guise of holding her still, and Belle gasped in shock and fear.

"My Lord, you cannot save her, but we will scourge the Dark One's enchantments from her!" Bishop Chesson said from nearby, clearly addressing her father. "We will purify her and bring your daughter back to you, meek, obedient and the proper daughter of such a lord as yourself."

"But my Belle has never—" Sir Maurice started.

"Worry not, My Lord! All will be well!"

"No!" Belle howled. "I am not enchanted! Every choice I have made is my own, and I will not—"

The blow to her stomach knocked the words and the wind out of her, and Belle doubled over as her father shouted her name again. But he was helpless, and she could hear the despair in his voice. The clerics held more power than any earthly lord, and even kings hesitated to cross them. Stories of their power crossed the kingdoms of the enchanted forest, and a word from them would leave any monarch with little choice but to punish a wayward lord unless the monarch himself wanted to find himself toppled from his throne.

Wheezing for air, Belle realized that she was truly alone. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her off her feet and holding her tight. The bag pulled tighter over her head, but Belle kicked hard with both feet, managing to catch someone. Judging from the pained whoof the cleric made, she'd caught him somewhere precious, and Belle tried again, jackknifing her body hard and hoping to catch another one. Hard hands caught her feet, though, and she snarled in frustration.

The snarl turned to a cry in pain when one of them hit her in the stomach again, this time with something solid. Pain rocketed up her insides from her lower rib cage. Breathing was suddenly next to impossible, and ropes wrapped around her feet while she struggled for air. Her father was still shouting, calling the bishop things that would probably see him punished for impiety. Then the hood slipped, and Belle could see out of her right eye, could see her father struggling against two other clerics' hold, fighting to get to her. To save her.

It was only the second time in her life that her papa couldn't save her, and this time she couldn't save herself, either. But someone could.

"Rumplestiltskin!"

A/N: Thank you for reading so far, and please do let me know what you think! Stay tuned for Chapter 2, in which Rumplestiltskin arrives and things spiral out of control very quickly.