A/N: This is another drabble I wrote on Tumblr a while ago, figured I'd post it here too. An AU one-shot (posted in two chapters because it's a tad longer than I planned it to be) in which Rumpelstiltskin didn't flee the battlefield. Inspired by this music.
He couldn't do it.
Rumple let out the breath he'd been holding with gasp, carefully lowering his arms to place the sledgehammer down safely beside him. He couldn't do it. His whole life he had wanted to shirk the reputation his father had dragged along with them; the brand of a coward. The whole village knew Malcolm to be a coward, and in turn, had expected the same of Rumple despite him doing nothing to deserve the title. Tarred with the same brush purely by relation…Rumple couldn't let that happen to Milah and his unborn child. True, injuring himself would ensure he was sent home alive, but was that truly better? If he stayed and died in battle, he'd leave his child fatherless just as his father had…albeit with more honour. If he injured himself and went home, his child would have a father, but also inherit the same judging glances for being "the son of a coward" that Rumple had experienced his whole life.
The man's legs went weak with fear, desperation clinging to his heart and pulling a sob from his chest as he fell to his knees. There was nothing he could do…everything he believed in, everything he had promised himself he would not do, was going to happen. Either his child was left fatherless…or chained to a coward for a father.
…Would his son feel the same, bitter resentment for him as Rumple had his own father?
If he fought and died…would the honour and knowledge of his father's bravery be enough to outweigh the sorrow?
In his heart of hearts, Rumple knew that his unborn child was not the only reason he had debated fleeing.
"…I don't want to die…" The man whispered to himself, his voice strangled by the sobs in his throat, "I don't want to die…"
"…I don't want to die…"
As Rumple landed on his back on the wet mud of the battlefield, bloodied and defeated, the same words echoed that had been plaguing his mind and dragging the burden of fear along with him from the moment he arrived at the front lines.
He was deaf to the charging feet that rushed by, ignored by soldier and ogre alike as being just another fallen soldier upon the ground. One of many.
This is it. He thought, his eyes fixed on the sky above him.
I'm going to die here.
He couldn't move, his legs and arms heavy and numb with cold, his uniform clinging to him in patches of blood, mud and sweat. As he lay prone on the ground, staring up at the blue skies, Rumple inwardly wondered how such peace could seem so close to the raging war below, hovering just above them…
He could feel a wound weeping in his hairline, blotting the grey flecks in his hair crimson, a rivulet of blood sneaking out of the corner of his mouth and sliding down his face and down his neck to be soaked up by his matted hair under his head.
Rumple wanted to reach up and brush it away, but his arms simply wouldn't listen. Nothing was listening to him except his lungs, that complained and creaked as the man forced them to pull air into his broken body.
He had fought well enough, assisting in the take down of a few ogres, surprising himself when his body acted on an instinct he never knew he had and fought with more strength than he knew was within him. But one strike from one of the monsters was all it took - an ogre had charged towards them, swinging its huge arm out in an arc and sweeping aside a whole unit of soldiers, Rumple included in their number, in a blink of an eye. They'd been flung high into the air, landing scattered across the field. Rumple could feel where the ogre's arm had connected with his torso, shattering his ribs like glass, his right leg twisted and crumpled from the impact of his fall.
I'm going to die here.
…The Seer was right…my son…I'm so sorry…
Still staring at the skies, a tear slipped from the corner of Rumple's eye, trickling down his temple. Had he the strength, he would have broken down into fits of sobbing…but he couldn't. Instead, Rumple closed his eyes against it all, praying against the odds that he might survive…somehow…for his son.
So when something brushed against his cheek, Rumple's heart plummeted - was he going to be saved or killed? Was it a soldier with aid, or had an ogre stepped near him and noticed he was still breathing?
I don't want to die…oh please, I don't want to die… Rumple thought resolutely, forcing his eyes open with whatever courage he had left to blot out his self-despised cowardly nature to meet whatever had come for him…
…The sight took his weakened breath away. A beautiful woman, dressed in gold, was looking down at him with amazingly clear, blue eyes. A set of white wings framed her, soft and pure, stretched out either side of her. She offered Rumple a sad smile.
"I'm suppose to ignore pleas like that." She said, a sadness threading through her light voice, "When I come to collect the fallen warriors…many plead for their lives…"
Rumple was stunned, his silence a combination of shock and the pain of his injuries. Eventually, he managed to draw a rattling breath and speak, his voice barely above a whisper:
"P-Please…I…I have…to see…my son…"
The angelic creature gave Rumple another sad smile, her face wracked with pity and guilt.
"He's waiting for you? At home?"
Rumple managed to shake his head.
"N-No…not yet…my wife…sh-she is…"
"Your wife is with child?" The woman recoiled a little, conflict tearing at her heart. "You haven't yet met your child…"
"…No…"
The woman looked away for a moment, her eyes glancing to the skies.
"…I'm going to pay a steep price for this…" She mumbled, before looking down at Rumple, "…But your child shall not be fatherless. My name is Belle…I am a Valkyrie. We take the fallen from the field of battle, it's our duty, our lives…I was sent to take you."
"…P-please…please…I don't want….to d-die…" Rumple mewled, his vision swimming as darkness began to bite at the edges of his vision, threatening to pull him into the cold grips of death. "…I don't want to die…"
Warm hands cupped his face, sinking deep into his chilled skin and driving out the cold dark that threatened to claim him. He closed his eyes, the comforting touch soothing him.
"…And you won't." Belle's voice chimed in the dark, "…You're going to live, Rumpelstiltskin."
