He was spinning.

As usual.

Rumpelstiltskin was spinning while Belle was reading.

As usual.

Except today her eyes kept straying from her book. She kept fidgeting in the duvet in the library, unable to get comfortable, and twisting her locks in her fingers. Her lips—slightly swollen from chewing—kept forming words not on the page, words like, "just ask," "do the brave thing," "you have the right."

To be perfectly frank, she had read the same sentence for the past half hour.

Shaking her head again, she said to herself, "Don't worry about it. 'What slew none and yet slew twelve? A raven ate from a dead, poisoned horse, and died from it. Then, twelve robbers ate the raven and died from that.' Well that seems ridiculous. Firstly, how would one raven feed twelve people? Secondly, how is it that none of them thought it a bad idea to eat something lying dead?"

Rumpelstiltskin certainly had a strange collection.

Rumpelstiltskin . . . .

Dammit! She was thinking about him again!

And he had her cursing. Damn!

The girl's lack of focus finally got the best of her, and she slammed the ridiculous story shut.

"That's it!" she announced to no one. "I will talk to him!"

And that is how she ended up striding up to the tower of a rather temperamental imp that day. It was not, however, entirely unexpected by either of them. They had both waited in anticipation for almost two months now.

Belle knocked on the door of his study with a conviction that she had been mustering for weeks. This had to happen, sooner or later. Why not now?

"Come in," her employer called.

She opened the door and stepped inside. "Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin."

As she had already known, he was at his wheel. Without looking at her, he grinned and replied giddily, "You are welcome, dear."

A few seconds passed as she thought out how to broach the subject. Two whole months and she had never thought of what she was going to say. Belle silently scolded herself.

"Is there something you need, Belle?" he interrupted her thoughts.

"I—I was hoping to talk to you." Well that was a terrible introduction.

"Well, my dear, I am always happy to talk," he chuckled. "What shall it be, then? The weather? Some faraway land I've visited? A book you've just discovered?"

Clenching her hands and taking a breath, Belle blurted, "I want to talk about our nights together."

Rumpelstiltskin continued to spin without even a single knot or imperfection in the gold string. His fingers did neither stumbled nor paused. But he said nothing.

Belle bit her lip. Perhaps this was a mistake. It was too late now though. "It's just, we never speak about it. And I feel like we should."

"If this is about last night, dearie, it was no trouble at—"

Stopping him, she insisted "This is not about last night, Rumple." Now his fingers slowed. "I've been meaning to talk about this for a long time. I just never knew how to begin. And then you were gone for only a week, and I could not sleep at all." She stepped closer to him, praying for him to understand. "That nightmare last night, it just made me realize how much we've been avoiding this and—"

"Belle," he interrupted. The wheel stopped moving. "Now is not the best time to discuss this. I have a rather . . . irksome issue that I've been trying to think over."

Her shoulders slumped and her face fell. "Oh. Alright then."

"Thank you, dearie. Now if you don't mind, I must get back to work."

The door closed itself behind her, but she did not notice. The only thing going through Belle's mind was the fact that he had not looked at her. Not once.

"Coward," she grumbled, not really meaning it.

Łittle Τalks

Had any other servants cleaned the castle they probably would have noticed the sound of someone passive-aggressively scrubbing the stairs and washing the dishes. The also might have noticed that a certain maid happened to "forget" their master's laundry.

Belle dried her hands with a rag. It seemed that she did her chores twice as fast when someone had irritated her. Of course, skipping over that someone's laundry also helped. Still, there were a few hours before dinner needed preparing. She was tempted to curl up and read a book, however considering how successful she had been that morning that option seemed rather unappealing. A glance outside though, and she decided to take a walk in the gardens. Summer was nearly over, and it seemed right to enjoy it while she could.

Picking up her skirts, the woman made her way to the castle grounds. There was a particular spot under a tree with white flowers that she adored. Rumpelstiltskin called it a cherry-blossom tree the first time she found it.

Lying under the tree, she could see the sunlight through the flowers. It draped onto her face in a pink hue, and for a short while she was able to rest. A lazy smiled spread across her cheeks, and her eyes began to droop . . . .

"Ahem."

Belle jumped. Rumpelstiltskin stood over her and the sun hung low in the sky.

"Were you planning on eating dinner, or shall I let you stay here for the night?"

"I'm so sorry!" she moaned. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

He offered his hand and pulled her up. "I suppose I'll have to throw you in the dungeon for the night then," he chuckled as they walked to the castle.

Belle rolled her eyes and grinned. "And I suppose you'll have to cook your own meals for the rest of the week."

"Well it seems that I've already my clothing to worry about."

She snickered, "I have no idea what you're implying."

He giggled, and she could not help but laugh with him. "As it is," he said. "I am growing hungry."

"You are the most codependent person I've ever met!" Belle grinned.

"Except for the past several centuries I spent cooking for myself."

Rolling her eyes, she strode back to the castle by his side.

Dinner that night was rather humble, just a roast goose and some peppers cooked over the stove. They spoke easily, as if his earlier jitteriness had never happened. A part of Belle was tempted to let things be as they were between them, all smiles and fun to cover up their fear. But then, it was only pretend at this point.

He cleared his throat.

"What?" she jumped, not realizing the lull in the conversation.

"I asked if you would be opposed to my leaving early. It seems that someone is in need of a deal."

"Oh," her face fell. "How urgent is it? Do you know?"

With a shrug, he replied, "From what I can tell, I should be back fairly shortly." Belle bit her lip and he frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"Do you think it could wait a few minutes?" she prodded.

The imp pushed his plate away and sat up a little straighter. "That depends on what for."

Belle toyed with her fork for a moment. "Rumple, I know you don't want to, but we need to talk about last night."

His nostrils flared, but other than that he remained composed. He stared down at her like a judge would a criminal. "There is nothing to talk about, my dear."

"But Rum—"

He held up his hand. "You had a nightmare. You were emotionally distressed. You sought comfort."

"But it's not just last night!" she protested before he could stop her. "This has been going on for weeks! Rumple, I just want—"

"Enough dear—"

"Just tell me what this is!"

"I said enough!" he roared, smacking the table. Belle winced and turned away. The next several seconds passed like a chasm, stretching wider and wider. When he finally spoke again, he sounded worlds away. "I am going to handle this deal now, dearie. When I return, I expect you to have put these whimsical thoughts away."

He stood and Belle squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force back the tears.

"I think I shall spend the night alone," she said curtly. "If that is convenient for you, sir."

Now it was Rumpelstiltskin who winced.

"Very well, dearie."

And then he was gone again.

Belle did not bother washing the dishes. Instead, she left them in a pot to soak and trudged up to her room. Though he was no longer in the castle, she slammed the door shut, and for good measure locked it.

After bathing and changing, she curled up in her bed, burying herself underneath a nest of blankets. Soft whispers were audible from underneath.

"I will not cry," she said. "I will sleep soundly and I will not cry."

So she did.

Łittle Τalks

Several hours later, Rumpelstiltskin paced back and forth in his tower.

"The nerve of that woman!" he spat. "Everything was fine. Why must she always have such ridiculous thoughts?"

He had thought himself so clever when he brushed the issue aside earlier. Aside from some unfinished laundry, his little maid had not done much to retaliate. But this?

The great and mighty Dark One let out an "Augh!" and continued to stalk around his work space.

"She'll have a nightmare," he growled. "And I won't be bothered to do anything. She can suffer through it on her own."

Letting out an impish giggle, he went on talking to himself. "She'll be begging for my forgiveness! If not tomorrow than the next day!"

Yes, that seemed like it would work. Besides, she had looked terrible after he had gone before. There was no way she could keep this up.

He would win this.

Łittle Τalks

Belle stumbled out of her room the next morning feeling awful. While she had managed to sleep through the night, it was a restless sort of sleep that left her more tired than before. At least there had been no nightmares though.

She fixed a little bread and jam in the kitchen for herself and dragged a stool to one of the windows.

As she sat and ate, she pondered how she would approach things today. She knew that she was right to press her case, but even more than that, she knew that she was justified in doing so. Rumpelstiltskin was her friend. She needed to make him see that friendship called for respect and understanding.

An exaggerated grunt behind her drew her attention from her mind.

Rumpelstiltskin stood, decked in his leather vest and dragonhide coat. Far different from the silk tunics he had preferred of late. His arms lay crossed and his lips pulled themselves back into a nasty sneer.

"Am I to understand that you will no longer be preparing breakfast" he tittered, his voice subtly lilted with annoyance.

Seeing an opportunity, Belle smiled and said, "Yes that is correct. In fact, I doubt I will be doing very many chores at all."

He tapped his fingers to his arms. "You realize, of course, that I dealt for you to be a maid, and a maid that refuses to do chores is a rather poor maid."

With a perfectly polite smile, Belle replied, "While the latter part may be true, our deal itself did not stipulate my being a maid. We agreed upon that afterwards."

"When I came for you I specifically said that I was looking for a caretaker."

"In your deal with my father, yes," she said. "However you did not make your deal with him. Our deal only stated that I would go with you forever. Everything else has just been busywork to fill my time."

He smiled back, with equal courtesy. "I suppose then, that you will not be able to say a word should I decide that your place is back in the dungeon."

Belle shrugged. "I suppose not." His jaw clenched, and Belle wondered if he was biting his cheek. "Will that be all then, sir?"

"Just one more question, dearie," he snipped. "Exactly how long do you expect this childish rebellion to continue?"

"For the foreseeable future."

A giggle rippled through him. "Very well then, dearie."

And then he was gone.

Again.

Belle shook her head and let out a sigh. It was a battle of wills now. But she could occupy her time without chores. Standing tall and full of newfound confidence, she marched to the door to go see the garden. She gave a tug on the handle.

Nothing.

Damn.

She tried the library, but he had locked it as well. Oh now that hurt. It was her gift, and he had taken it back. So Belle returned to her room. She had a few books in it anyways. As it was, she still drooped with exhaustion from the previous night. Deciding that she might as well catch up on some sleep—and praying that no nightmares attacked—Belle locked the door, pulled her curtains shut, and curled back up in bed.

The next two days went on like this. Belle would spend most of her time rereading the same three books in her room—an informative tome called Herbert Hollivon's Guide to Magical Beasts, a touching epic called Paradise Lost, and a playful story called The Hobbit—coming out to stretch her legs and find some food that she did not have to cook. When she got bored of that, she would explore the castle. She had seen most of the rooms, but it never hurt to look around more. There were all sorts of fascinating things to see around the Dark Castle. Apparently, her master had filled one room to the brim with all sorts of clothes from all different lands. Aside from swiping a few pairs of boots, Belle did very little in there. It was not as if she had a mirror to help her. Another room that happened to be incredibly had paintings, sculptures, even mosaics and murals, ripped from walls, strewn all over. Some of them had to be centuries old. Probably her favorite room, until he locked it the next day, was stuffed full of sweets. Toffees and chocolates, caramels and sugar sticks all sat on shelves, filling every wall. Of course, even finding these rooms grew rather repetitive after a while. When she could no longer think of anything to do, Belle would concede to sleeping. Sometimes the nightmares came and sometimes they did not.

For the first two days when she would go to the kitchen to fix up a small meal, Rumpelstiltskin was there, always asking her, "So, dearie, are you done?" to which she would beam at him and respond, "Are you apologizing for what you said?" He would then shake his head, so she would chirp, "Not yet, then."

The third day, he only appeared once. This time, he asked her, "My dear, wouldn't you like to end this and return to where we were?" As before, she responded, "Are you apologizing for what you said?" As before, he was not.

The sixth day he sought her out and solemnly asked, "Won't you stop this and join me tonight?" But it was still the same.

Belle did admit to herself that this time she was very tempted to accept his offer. Sleep still brought no rest, and he had looked so sincere, so upset. Hardly a trace of impish playfulness traced his voice. She could not give in though. Not yet. It was coming too close.

On the seventh day, she did not see him.

Łittle Τalks

Rumpelstiltskin glared at his wall. An entire week had passed.

An entire fucking week. And still she would not relent. In all of that time he had not slept at all. She spent most of her days sleeping.

How was this not affecting her?

He longed to lie down and hold her close, to smell the soap in her hair, to hear the accent in her voice, to see the blush in her face when she giggled. To feel her breath on the crook of his neck.

What was happening to him? Why did he find himself bargaining for ways to concede to her demands without losing his pride? Was there even a way?

He had to get out of here.

Leaving a note on the table in case she sought him out, he left the castle in a poof of smoke.

The sorcerer found himself in a town, a few leagues to the South. Upon deciding that he did not wish to be gawked at, he cast a quick glamour over himself so as to appear human. Strutting through the streets, he eyed the different shops and peoples around him.

There was one woman there with striking blue eyes that caught his attention, but a wispy bundle of straw-like hair covered her head. Another woman he caught sight of had thin brown curls and was closer to his height, but she looked through gray eyes and wore a harsh face that was not at all appealing.

God, what was he doing?

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head and made his way to a tavern.

"I'll pay you a crown for a table and as many drinks as I please," he growled at the barman. "I'll pay you two if you see that no one bothers me."

"Ay, sir, I can do that! Thank you, sir!"

A little table in the corner seemed safe enough. He settled himself there and ordered two ales to start with. He quaffed them down in minutes, and the barman quickly brought him another.

The ale itself was rather bland, but the fire licking at his throat eventually brought out a dull contentedness in him. At least here he could get a drink and some food. No matter that it was tasteless and made him cringe.

It was a shame that he could not grow drunk as quickly as three quarters of the men and women here. He might have enjoyed a little reveling and terrorizing a town. How long had it been since he terrorized a town? A century? A century and a half? However long it was, it seemed a shame that he no longer found any appeal in those things. And there was not enough drink in the entire region to cause enough of an alcohol-induced-stupor that he would feel the thrill of ripping throats and toying with knights' courage again. It was just too boring. And even if he could, Belle would never forgive him.

Shit, he was not supposed to be thinking about her.

He scooped a strand of straw off of the ground and began toying with it, turning it gold then back, then just the tip, then small sections.

Damn. This was so boring.

"You look lonely there, hon."

A woman with dark brown hair, angled cheeks, and a corset that held all of her bust in his face appeared.

"Anythin' I can do to help you?" she inquired.

Forcing himself to keep his voice from trilling, he replied, "Well I'm afraid not, dearie."

"You sure, hon?"

"Quite sure."

She cocked her head at him and sat down.

"Was I unclear about what I said?" he hissed.

Tussling her hair, she remarked, "No, but I can still sit if I want."

"I'm not interested in a little cavort with a whore, dearie," he snarled.

The woman snarked, "Believe it or not, I'm not too fond of you either, hon." With a rueful grin, she went on, "But ladies of my profession don't just 'cavort,' you know. Some men just want to talk. And sweetie, you look like you need to talk."

"You're mistaken."

She shrugged. "Maybe. Either way, I'm going to talk. You can if you want to as well."

Out of the corner of his eye, Rumpelstiltskin noticed the barman's demeanor fall when he saw that his customer was being bothered.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you're having trouble with a woman," said his busty companion. "Wife?"

He glared at her.

"Nope, not a wife. Well, you seem like a rich fellow. Maybe it's a servant?"

His teeth were grinding now. Suddenly the idea of ripping out some throats seemed much more appealing.

"She rejected your advances, didn't she?"

"I have made no advances," he seethed. His hand had turned white, and the glass he was gripping was about to break.

"So it is a servant then?" the woman chuckled.

Damn this woman.

"You sure you don't want to talk about what happened?"

He sucked in several breaths and practically shoved them out of his lungs.

She shrugged. "Fair enough hon."

With that, she stood and sauntered over to a table full of hooting men.

On his own again, Rumpelstiltskin fumed even hotter. He was never going to find peace.

And he missed Belle.

Damn it all, he missed her.

He paid the barman one crown and stormed out.

Łittle Τalks

Belle leaned on his leather chair by the fire. He was not here, so he would never notice. On the eighth day since their fight, she felt extreme loneliness. Her mind currently lingered on his words. How could he have been so cruel after being so kind the night before? Not that she would ever show him how upset she was. She was too stubborn.

And she was still right.

As she sat and stared at the flames, she caught a scent, separate from the smoke. Something was cooking. Standing, she made her way to the dining hall. Had Rumpelstiltskin finally decided to start cooking?

When she reached the room, she gasped. Laid out on the table was an array of foods, some she knew, some were unfamiliar. Meats and fruits and vegetables and pastries all covered the large table, and she could hardly see the wood.

"Rumpelstiltskin?" she called out.

He did not answer, but she could feel it in her gut that this food was for her.

So she sat and feasted. The savory tastes and smells coated her pallet, enticing her to keep eating until she almost physically could not. Belle sat back in her seat and grinned to herself. The food was delicious, even if it had the aftertaste of magic on it.

Her eyes almost drooped shut in bliss, but a soft touch ghosted over her ear. She blinked and glanced around to see rose petals, dozens of them, swirling around her. Belle giggled and laughed as the danced and tickled at her skin, then they glided over to the door.

She pushed away from her seat and followed after them, pulling open the door and then walking after them as the gathered around the main door. She bit her lip. Could it be—yes! It was unlocked!

Laughing openly now, she chased after the petals, which flew through the garden while the sun began to set. Then she stopped.

They had settled by her Cherry-Blossom Tree, at the feet of Rumpelstiltskin. Beside him, glinting and winking in the pink and orange light, was a solid gold bench, designed in ornate and intricate patterns.

"What . . . ?" she could not grasp words at the moment. With the sky on the tree and the bench, and his own skin glittering beautifully in the light, she was at a loss for what to say.

"Well hello there, Belle," he chuckled. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"

She nodded dumbly.

"Won't you have a seat?" he offered. Unsure of her own actions, she sat down, and he sat next to her.

As the sun dipped below the mountains in what was most likely the last night of the summer, the imp and his maid sat together and watched. They said nothing, only sat with the rose petals at their feet and the cherry-blossom petals in the air.

When the sun had finally dropped out of sight and the first handful of stars began to cluster on the other side of the sky, Rumpelstiltskin almost offhandedly commented, "This is a lovely spot to watch the sky."

"It really is," Belle agreed.

He smiled warmly, not one of his mocking or deceitful smiles. "You know something, I can't remember the last time I watched the sunset."

"Really?" she murmured.

"Indeed. I forgot how beautiful it was. All sorts of colors you wouldn't normally see in the sky, all gathered in one spot."

She bit her lip. "I always love the sky, no matter what color it is."

"Oh really?" he smiled again.

"Yes." Belle glanced at the greys and lavenders in front of her, knowing that there was an indigo forming behind her. "It's constantly changing. It has all sorts of blues and grays in the day."

"Indeed it does," he agreed.

"And if you look carefully during the sunrise, you can see the entire sky makes a rainbow."

"Goodness," he breathed. "You know, I don't think I've seen a sunrise since I was a boy."

"Well you should," she breathed back. "The sky is just . . . ."

"Beautiful," he uttered.

She nodded. "Yes."

Belle realized that at some point they must have inched closer, because their pinkies were so close to touching, and she had the sudden urge to lean into him. As a matter of fact, they were already leaning toward one another.

"I'll tell you what," he murmured. "I can enchant this spot so that rain or shine, you can watch the sky in peace."

Tears almost formed in her eyes. "You would do that?" she nearly choked.

"And," he added. "If you like, you can call upon any book in the castle, and it will appear in this spot."

"Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered.

His wide gray eyes beheld her with something akin to awe and he breathed, almost inaudibly, "I'm sorry, Belle."

Her smile widened and a few of the tears she had held back managed to break through. He wiped her cheeks with his thumb, and she took his hand.

"Thank you, Rumple," she said. "And I forgive you."

His smile was soft and grateful.

"Just please tell me one thing, Rumple." He tensed but nodded. "I care about you. Very much." He frowned, but she went on, "I have for a while. Even before I had that nightmare. And I want to know what this is for you."

The man opened his mouth then closed it, a confused look on his face.

Finally, he uttered, "I don't know, Belle. I don't know what this is."

She nodded and turned away.

"But I do care about you as well," he said. She looked back at him. "You have become so important to me. Do you realize that?"

She smiled and conceded to leaning into him. He stiffened for a moment, but she was not shocked. They had never been so close outside of his bed. After several long seconds, he relaxed and put his arm around her.

She muttered again, "Thank you, Rumple," and closed her eyes, enjoying a few moments of blissful peace.

Each thought to themselves, I'd be lost without you.