Belle stopped for a moment at the last turn that would lead her to the cell to compose herself.
She would have to be careful with her words, she knew. If she issued a command, it must be specific enough not to allow for loopholes. The Dark One was not known as a trickster for nothing. He could weave webs with his words, trap people with heir own wishes and dreams. Her Papa's last warning still echoed in her mind.
Never, ever offer him your name.
She stepped around the corner and in front of the cell.
And instinctively stepped back at the sight of a face pressed to the bars, glaring right at her.
Belle hadn't known what to expect. Her imagination had provided her with several vague images, fur or feathers, fangs or claws, brimstone and flame, perhaps a countenance too beastly to be described in words.
But she certainly hadn't been prepared for this; a creature human in appearance except for his green-gold skin and unnaturally large eyes. His clothes hung in tatters, little more than rags, though they had probably once been fine silk and leather. He could not have been much taller than her, from what she could make out, though power rolled off him in waves. Amber eyes glared at her from the darkness as the creature hissed at her, pressing again the bars and baring rotting yellow teeth.
For all that his pebbled skin shone in the light and the hands wrapped around the bars ended in claws, his appearance was just enough this side of human, and she found it extremely disconcerting.
Her voice threatened to tremble, and she forced it to remain steady. She had learned enough of politics and had spent her time around too many people more powerful than herself to show weakness to an as-yet unknown enemy.
"You are the Dark One?"
Her eyes met his and fixed him with a defiant look. She was the one with power here, and she had too much to lose to forget that.
"Yes." His voice was odd, changing pitch from word to word, dramatic and mocking.
He clenched his teeth, as if trying to bite back the rest of the words "Mistress."
His face twisted in revulsion as he spit out the reminder of her ownership, the word obviously bitter on his tongue.
She felt startled for a moment, the title catching her off-guard.
"Why did you call me that? I didn't ask you, and I doubt you'd want to."
"Your father's orders, dearie." He let out a mad giggle, shrill and loud in the silent dungeon. He leaned even farther, seemingly uncaring of the metal pressed against his skin.
"Gotta respect my master, haven't I?"
She knew he was probably telling the truth, even as her first instinct was to deny it. The fact that he had been locked up in the dark almost as long as she'd been alive was proof enough that her father was not who she'd thought him to be. Still, she wouldn't give him her name, and had no plans of being called mistress by anyone.
She already felt guilty enough.
"You may call me anything you wish," she began, them noticing the gleam in his eyes, "so long as it brings me no harm."
He nodded slightly in acknowledgement, even as a spark of amusement danced in his eyes.
Clever, dearie.
All the more fun to play with. And he always could appreciate a good mind, even in someone he planned to rip the heart out of. She could be interesting to have around for a while, though she'd be difficult to outsmart.
"Now, dearie, why don't you tell me what you want?"
Belle glanced down, not replying immediately. She though of a blood-colored sky, the moans of the children she'd seen die. The haunted looks of survivors that reflected the horrors they had seen, a child innocently asking when his father would be back.
"I want my kingdom to be safe," she replied, almost in a whisper. "And I need your help to do it."
To the girl's credit, her first request seemed a sincere one. Though she'd begin to ask for herself soon enough, for now, she seemed to genuinely want to help her people.
Well, no people, no taxes, and then how would these nobles have their lavish castles and luxurious clothes? Thinking of which, wasn't that dress a lovely shade of gold? What would it look like, soaked through with blood?
He giggled aloud at the thought, then addressed the girl, "So, what do you want me to do?"
She seemed almost relieved at the question, some of the wariness in her posture draining away as she obviously started to make plans.
"Well, first you should come with me. We can discuss the terms of our deal."
"Deal, dearie?"
"Oh, don't you make deals then? I know you're known as a deal-maker."
He nodded, wondering where she was going with this. he was too genuinely interested to make any more grandiose a gesture.
"If I simply commanded you to destroy the ogres, what would the price of the magic be? And who would pay it?"
Rumpelstiltskin's eyebrows shot up, his interest genuinely piqued. It wasn't like a noble, or anyone he dealt with, really, to consider the consequences of their actions. For that, he owed this little princess a measure of respect.
The questions had not been meant as commands, so he answered with a question in return.
"And where would a lady like yourself have learned so much about magic?"
She shrugged, stepping forward to slip a key into the rusted lock. The door creaked as it swung open.
"I read. Anyhow, come with me. You look like you could use a meal." She scratched up her nose slightly, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. "And a bath."
She hadn't been joking about the bath, Rumplestiltskin realized, watching tendrils of steam rise from the warm water. She'd asked he be hidden as the maids worked, not wanting anyone to run around screaming (he'd grinned slightly at that, making a mental note to try to scare as many people as possible until she remembered to tell him not to). Now, he stepped into the room to see her checking the shelves.
" Soap, towels,... "
"You were serious?! I can do magic, you know."
She turned to face him, running a critical eye over his wiry frame.
"Your clothes are ruined. Do you have any others?"
Irritated at being ignored, he waved a hand so that a pile of his clothes, neatly folded, appeared on the nearby shelf.
The girl looked impressed, "Where are these from? Can you conjure something from nothing?"
Rumplestiltskin reached the limit of his patience. He wanted to know what this girl wanted from him, he wanted to know it now, and he was tired of playing guessing games.
"They are from the Dark Castle. You know dearie, the place where I used to live?"
An odd look passed over her face as she nodded slightly.
"Please join me in my sitting room when you're done. We have a lot to discuss."
She gracefully left the room, leaving him glaring after her, angry and somewhat confused. One of her hands lingered on the hilt of the dagger, the other ghosting over the gold chain clasped at her throat.
Erm..I hope you enjoy? Until next Friday then.