A/N: I've gotten some really, really awesome prompts, guys! Keep 'em coming! I know I've been kinda slow about getting them up, but here we go! Hope you like it :)
She was miserable. Her jaw was clenched like a steel trap, withholding a cascade of emotion. She thought she was hiding it well, responding to his commands politely and obediently, but he's had centuries of practice in reading people, in pinpointing their wants and desires. Her insatiable curiosity and longing for freedom might as well have been scrawled out across her delicate forehead. Though she hadn't been under his care for more than a couple days, he felt like he knew her somehow.
Day by day, her sky-high walls of stoicism began to crumble. Quick, efficient tea times turned into sluggish affairs with more time spent dreamily stirring the brew than drinking it. Averting her eyes morphed into longing looks of loneliness as she watched straw transform into gold between Rumpelstiltskin's deft fingertips. Try as he may to stop it, he almost felt bad for her. It was like watching a caged sparrow beat it's wings helplessly against the bars. Oh, but she was no sparrow; a sparrow is far too common to be compared to such a beauty. It was one of the reasons he had replaced her flowing golden gown. It was far too distracting. But why should her presence have such an effect on him? She was a caretaker, nothing more. He batted the very idea of her away. Conflicting thoughts sparred in his mind as he threw himself more fervently into his spinning. On and on he went, straw pulling in, gold spewing out. Then all of a sudden, he found himself holding onto the end of a finished thread; he had burned through an entire stack of hay. Looking up, he caught a glimpse at the large clock looming in the corner and nearly gasped at the late hour.
Spinning around, he looked for his ward, but she was nowhere in sight. He followed the scent of desperation for only a moment before it brought him to the dungeon door. Gingerly pressing his ear to the door, he heard her. He heard halfhearted wishes and mumbled prayers, there were a few sniffles and multiple sighs. That poor thing…
No.
She needed no sympathy. She was a bargaining chip…wasn't she? That's all right? A groan of frustration seethed forth from the imp. Squeezing his eyes shut, he placed two fingers on the bridge of his nose feeling, his resolve melting away.
Then, he heard it. Soft, shaky notes, staggered a few seconds apart.
"Bum bum bum…bum bum bum bum bum…"
What was she doing? Was she…was she singing herself to sleep?
The tune's confidence grew in its tempo and volume. Rumpelstiltskin's swirling thoughts came to a screeching halt as he realized something: he used to sing this lullaby to Bae.
1-2-3 owls in the tree
Emotions that he'd buried as deep as he could manage came swelling to the surface
4-5-6 foxes in the sticks
Memories of comforting his son, shielding him from the terrors of the night.
6-5-4 goslings on the shore
Desires to mollify the pain spread through him.
3-2-1 now we all go home
With a flourish of his hand, he sent the piano in the next room slowly pouring over the melody, quietly at first, as not to startle her. He stood there listening to the instrument and the girl play off one another, each feeding off the other's passion. After they'd gone through the lullaby a couple times, they finished on the same lovely note, satisfied in their endeavors. Feeling rather accomplished, Rumple turned on his heal to go, but a few whispered words seeped to grab him by the back of his collar, sending tension reeling through his throat.
"Thank you…"
Pausing only for a moment, he sighed and muttered, "You're welcome, dearie. Get some rest, those shelves won't dust themselves."
Heading off to bed himself, he couldn't help but wonder just what he was getting himself into.
First one down...how'd I do? :)