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Rumplestiltskin: As you wish...
Belle: No, wait! I will go with him.
Gaston: I forbid it, Belle!
Belle: No one decides my fate but me! I shall go.
Rumplestiltskin: It's forever, dearie.
Belle: My family, my friends... they will all live?
Rumplestiltskin: You have my word.
Belle: Then you have mine. I will go, with you, forever.
Rumplestiltskin: Deal! (giggle fit)
Maurice: Belle... Belle... you cannot do this! Belle, please! You cannot go with this... beast.
Belle: Father... Gaston... it's been decided.
Rumplestiltskin: You know, she's right. The deal is struck.

Belle hummed an old melody from her childhood as she dusted the Dark One's knickknacks; despite her recent captivity she felt happy here in her Master's house, among his books and his treasures. She might not be able to travel to distant lands or even to leave the dark castle, but she had discovered a deep well within herself for dreaming and his wonderful treasures from across the realms (or his 'things' as he liked to call them) fueled her dreams of adventure and romance to such an extent that she hardly noticed the passage of the days, weeks and months. Her beautiful golden dress grew frayed at the edges and she wondered if the dark one would give her another if she asked him.

If Rumplestiltskin noticed her dress he made no sign of it and Belle herself hardly cared anymore. What use was a pretty dress with no one to see it? As usual she quickly forgot her troubles as she indulged in her favorite pastime - daydreaming. Her mind turned quickly to one adventure or another, recalling the books she'd read over and over throughout her childhood.

One morning thinking of a particularly thrilling story about the genie of the lamp, she spent several happy hours gathering lamps from around the castle and rubbing them vigorously to see if Rumplestiltskin had a real magic lamp amongst his 'things'. For his part Rumplestiltskin, who was watching his maid that morning as he often did through a small magic mirror, found this rather amusing and he made sure there were more lamps in his house that morning then there ever had been before. The real magic lamps in his possession were of course sealed up in his vault, but he wasn't about to let his little maid rub those. Genies were far more trouble than they were worth in his opinion and in any case the lamps in his castle could use the polishing.

His amusement faded as he watched Belle climb a tall shelf to get at an old lamp half hidden by cobwebs on the top shelf. He could see the old wood straining under her weight as she climbed.

As the shelves gave way, he reached through the mirror and pulled her back down to the ground, making sure she landed lightly enough to escape serious injury, but hard enough to teach her a lesson about climbing up shelves when all she had to do was ask for a ladder in the first place.

Belle sat still on her now bruised backside and watched as the shelves, trinkets and one very dirty old lamp fell down around her as she sat safely within a protective bubble of some kind that the heavier objects bounced off of; she knew that Rumplestiltskin must have saved her and that he must have some way of keeping an eye on her.

Looking at the debris around her Belle felt sick with shame and fear. Shattered knickknacks littered the floor; among them a book that Belle had not noticed before. Many of the tattered old book's pages had come loose and were now scattered around her. Clearly the old book's bindings had proven unequal to the strain of being dropping twenty feet onto a hardwood floor. Why would he save ME and not these beautiful old books? she wondered. Perhaps he meant to punish her in some other way for this transgression. He had a very dangerous reputation, as she knew, but she had never known him to be cruel to her. Not especially kind perhaps. But he had given her a pillow.

Slowly Belle rose unsteadily to her feet and began to clean up her mess. Carefully she picked up all the pages and set them aside, noting that the book seemed to be written in an old language that she could not read. Gently she shook the shards of broken glass and porcelain from the pages so that she could study the pages and try to figure out the order they belonged in.

As she gathered the loose pages a name on one of the pages caught her eye, 'de Ravin' ... What was her family's name doing in a book on Rumplestiltskin's book shelf? Scanning the page she realized that this text was different from the other pages she'd gathered so far. It was in Latin! Latin was an old language that was still used to keep records in her kingdom and the best part was that Belle knew she could read it.

Setting the rest of the loose papers she'd gathered aside, her brow furrowed in concentration, she slowly began to read the rest of the page... and also in that year William de Ravin, squire of his majesty's chamber pot, did defeat the usurpers singlehandedly; Bringing peace back to the land. In recompense of which he was made Sir William de Ravin, knight of his majesty's shield and given Flandor castle with all its lands and monies in perpetuity for him and his descendants. For such is the honor the king will bestow on the brave; no matter what their station in life.

Sir William de Ravin (portrait on following page) served his majesty faithfully for forty years until his death at the age of eighty-one. He is buried at Flandor, where his descendants still live to this day.

...following this passage was a family tree which looked all too familiar to Belle, who had seen the same names repeated on her father's wall. Though the story of how her family attained its position in the nobility was new to her. Her father had left her with the impression that her family had been noble forever. Looking at this family tree she realized that they'd only lived at Flandor for about two hundred years from William to Maurice. Why would he hide this from me? she wondered, It's hardly shameful to come from humble roots, especially with an ancestor as brave as Sir William to began our family dynasty. Why have I never heard this story before? Everybody knows about Victor the Great, the wise and mighty king who united the kingdom under one crown, surely he was the king referred to here, the one who made William de Ravin into Sir William. Excitedly she searched through the scattered pages trying to find the portrait of the famous ancestor she'd never heard of.

"Eureka!" she cried happily as she found the portrait ...William de Ravin had been rather short and a bit portly, but Belle thought she could detect the nobility lurking behind his eyes, but oh my what funny clothes they wore in those days! she thought. Belle giggled at the idea of her own father, Sir Maurice, wearing all those ruffles and what a funny looking dagger he was holding; it was all curvy... she stared at the dagger. Somehow she was sure she'd seen it somewhere before...

"Give that back!" growled Rumplestiltskin snatching the book from her hands.

"But..." she pointed to the portrait, "Sir William is my ancestor!" she said.

"I'm well aware of that."

"But I've never even heard of him."

"I'm not surprised."

"Won't you let me read the rest of the story?" she pleaded.

"You won't find another line about 'Sir' William in this book." he tittered, adding, "History books cannot be trusted" he advised," especially when the truth was rather inconvenient to the king."

"But if this book cannot be trusted, couldn't you tell me what really happened?"

"You won't like it." he sang.

"I want to know the TRUTH." she said, emphasizing the word, "What did my father hide from me?"

"Oh only that your family's wealth and privilege was won on a great big pile of corpses..."

"What?!"

"Your ancestor, William de Chamber Pot..." Rumple sneered, " Well one day he came upon a certain dagger, which had been rather carelessly hidden in a cave near the castle and discovering that the dagger compelled a monster to do his bidding, he used that dagger to defeat all the king's rivals, and by defeat dearie, I mean murder all the king's rivals, which did in a way bring peace to the land, if you don't count all the crying and wailing from the womenfolk who's sons and husband's were mercilessly slaughtered."

"But that's awful!" she cried.

"That's history for you, dearie." he sang, "It's written by the victors you know."

"And you were the monster who killed all those men?"

"Was compelled to kill all those men," he corrected, "Even Rumplestiltskin has his standards."

"Oh you poor man..." Belle reached for his hand.

"I am not a man!" he exploded, pushing away her attempt to hold his hand. "Don't feel sorry for me dearie." he sang, letting the sudden burst of anger drain out of his voice, "Old William may have won his battles, but I think the Dark One won the war."

Belle's forehead creased, "I don't understand." she said.

"Oh dear, and here I thought you were rather clever, for a maid..."

"Me?" she gasped, "I'm your revenge?"

He smiled, "I guess you are a clever one after all." he giggled.

"You took me from my father to get revenge for something that happened before he was even born?"

"Wonderful isn't it? Timing, my dear ...is everything."

"But why me? Why am I your revenge..."

"Why because YOU are your father's child... his only child" he added, "and the last remnant of old William's flesh and bone still living."

"So..."

"Now there will be no more de Ravin's left to bother me. After you're gone that is." he giggled again.

"Oh." Belle looked down at her shoes feeling very small indeed.

Rumple fought down the tiny wave of compassion he felt for the girl. It was hardly her fault, his suppressed conscience pricked him. Scooping up the broken book and loose pages Rumple moved towards the door, "I'll take care of these." he said, jerking his head towards a broom that was leisurely sweeping its way towards Belle, "You clean up this mess. " he paused, "And be quick about it. I expect my tea to be served at the regular time." The door opened for him and he walked out, slamming it in his wake.

"Oh and dearie..." a disembodied voice spoke through the door, "You'll find a new more practical, less... regal dress waiting for you in your closet. That one is hardly fitting for a mere maid."