Title: The Beauty of the Beast

Chapter Two: Serendipity

-Five years later

Conmen were a detested group even among criminals. So were cowards. Rumplestiltskin was two-fold. He worked in the fine art of illusionment, and cheap gimmicks besides. He won at gambling games using "trick" items, and while most knew this, there were still those few who took it as a challenge to best him at his own game. Interestingly enough, he made more money this way than his previous job, when he'd tried to make a living at spinning textiles.

It was the end of the work week, which was always a busy day for a man who made his living in and around pubs. This one, in particular, was not starting out too well. You could tell things were going badly when someone was on your throat within the first hour, shouting at you:

"You thieving fiend!" the man held a knife up at his throat with his right hand while pinning him to the wall with the other. Rumple only grinned back at him, albeit nervously. "Where is the trick?!"

"Wha-whatever are you talking about?" he responded with an awkward laugh. "See? Nothing up my sleeve," when he raised his hand, the sleeve fell down and, indeed, revealed nothing. The man punched him square in the face.

"Count yourself lucky, you coward," he growled; "that I'm not a scum-bag like you," he released his grip and put the knife away. Before he left, though, he turned and punched him right in the gut. He struggled, but managed not to fall over completely; instead, he just stood there, with his arm protectively over the spot. As he walked away, the furious victim of Rumple's latest card game muttered; "Bastard."

The slouching conman immediately pricked himself up at attention. A wry smile curled at his mouth, and this laugh was so high-pitched it was nearly demented. The man didn't get much farther than a few steps before Rumplestiltskin pounded the back of his head, knocking him off-balance to the ground. Then, he took his crutch and beat him with it- over and over- slamming him in the face, stomach- it didn't very much matter to him where it went. The server neglected to defend either of them, seeing as one was a known criminal and the other a con artist.

Evidently, he was stronger than he looked. He said nothing, though he was clearly nervous when the man grabbed his crutch and jerked. "Alright, you worm," he spat, standing up; "You're gonna wish I'd-"

"Stop," a woman grabbed him by the arm. The mere touch of her fingers made him stop in place, but not for long.

"Let go of me, you whore!" he glared and pulled his arm away. "This doesn't concern you!"

"Hoh!" she laughed, her mouth forming a nearly perfect "O" shape. "What rude language! I'm hardly a whore," the woman appeared small in frame but, like the cripple, she must have been stronger than she looked as well. She pulled him back without straining in the slightest. "And, as a matter of fact, this does concern me,"

All Rumplestiltskin could do was stare at her. He was certain he'd never met anyone who resembled her in his entire life, but her voice and accent...he'd heard it before, he knew it. She brushed the man away as though he was a small speck of dust, waving her hand delicately in front of his face. He blinked and came to a realization, looking around like he didn't know how he'd gotten where he was, and mumbled;

"I'm sorry," before traipsing back to his table.

"What a pest," she said jokingly to the conman. Then, she got uncomfortably close to him and reached for him. He instinctively flinched and drew back.

Rumple pulled his bum leg back without lifting it from the ground. The exhertion had probably gotten to him.

"Here," how did she get a hold of the crutch? He didn't see her take it from the other brawler. Hesitant and horrified, he took it from her. As he gradually came back in tune with his five senses, he realized the other occupants of the bar had started muttering about him under their breath, though their insults were no different from what he heard every day. "Don't worry about them,"

The way she spoke and carried herself made him feel as though he should kneal, or at least bow- something of the sort. She seemed to belong to some higher class of people. Even her clothing was far more extravagant than anything the people down here could afford- he could tell by sight it was made from the finest of silks and most expensive of dyes, and it was certainly no prostitute's attire.

"Don't you think it's rude to stare?" she asked with a coy smile, and he could feel his memories of this woman nagging at his brain. "Come on, now. I think you owe me a drink,"

Feeling he had no right to refuse, he nodded slowly and followed her up to the bar. He had just won three days' pay from that criminal and he was planning on drinking some of that money later anyways. The two of them sat down and he tried to force himself to stop staring at her in the confusion that still racked his brain. Why did she seem so familiar to him? What was she doing here? Why did she have anything to do with him?

"What do you suggest?" she asked him. "I've never been here before,"

"The wheat beer," he replied, looking back at her.

The woman nodded and waved the tender over. "One pint of your wheat beer, please,"

He shuffled behind the counters to comply. Within a few seconds, it was in front of her. The man slammed his palm down on the table in front of Rumplestiltskin, breaking his attention from this strange woman who suddenly came to demand his company.

"Payment," he barked. He nodded and handed him the currency.

She took a drink and swallowed the whole mouthful. This may have been her first time at this particular pub, but she was definitely no stranger to alcohol. "It's alright," she commented, setting it down. "I'll stick with my wine in the long run, though," again, the girl reached her hand over, this time presumably to grab his. He pulled back to avoid her, and she smirked at him. Touchless, wasn't he? This amused her. "This conversation is getting awfully boring by myself,"

"What business do you have with me?"

"There we go. Questions are a good way to stimulate a conversation," she teased. "We struck a deal a few years ago. I came to make good on it,"

"Wha-what?" an old client? She let out a chuckling "hmph" at the panic on his face. Was this another one of his deals gone south? "Who are you?"

"My name is Belle," she told him, taking another drink. "But I don't really think that's what you want to know," he was silenced by that.

"I don't recognize you at all," she was mildly surprised by this; "but I don't have any money,"

"I guess it's good that there was no money involved in our contract,"

Every word out of her mouth left him more surprised and confused than the last, and just when he'd think he couldn't possibly be more shocked than he already was, she'd speak again.

"You're awfully dense, for a conman," Belle scoffed. "What's your name, anyways?"

"..." he looked away in consideration. "Rumplestiltskin,"

"Ah, yes, Rumplestiltskin..." her eyes glowed with recognition; "I've heard you were there, that day the ogres stopped their attacks on this town. Did you see it?"

He shook his head 'no,' uncertain of where exactly she was going with this new topic.

"I've heard there was a woman who walked out onto the battlefield and made them all leave," she finished the beer and made sure the cup was quiet when it hit the counter. "Tell me, how are the children?"

That was the final straw. The only possible explanation for her to know that and to approach him would be that she was the woman who protected them that day. "Her..." he mumbled quietly; "You're her, aren't you?"

Belle raised a brow at him. "'Her?'"

"The woman. The woman who saved them,"

She nodded her head. "The woman who saved a thousand lives," was what she called herself. "That's me,"

The cripple didn't know what to make of her. This woman was a being made purely of beauty, the one he'd met that day was a nearly grotesque sight to behold. "Well..." he sputtered and hesitated; "..what do you want?"

"The deal was," she placed her feet down on the ground; "that you will do 'anything I wished,'" as she stood up, she motioned for him to follow. "I'll see that you keep that promise,"

To a man who made a living by trickery, that was an obviously vague response. The answer probably had a variety of possibilities...or, perhaps she hadn't decided yet? She must have thought the terms were clear, though, from the way she spoke and moved. "What are you waiting for?" she asked after walking a few steps. Just as soon as she said that, he felt a powerful urge in his legs. Before he knew it, he couldn't stop them- couldn't even slow them down. The nerves in his bum legs surged with pain- the bone-shattering pain left over from that mallet so many years ago now felt exactly as he remembered at the split second it happened. It kept moving, kept bending and pushing down against the ground. He alternated between gasping for air and holding his breath.

"St-stop!" he finally begged once they had exited; "Please-whatever you're doing- stop!"

Miraculously, when she stopped walking, he regained control of his legs. She turned back to see him fall over from the pain. He panted noisily, whole body shaking, veins straining against his skin. It actually seemed he might cry.

"Are you alright over there?" she inquired jokingly. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she raised the crutch from the ground and left it hovering in front of him. His bone was still ringing with pain, his mind so focused on it that he didn't notice anything else.

He stayed on the ground for nearly ten whole minutes while Belle waited. Once he had regained himself enough to grab the crutch, she said with a sigh; "I suppose we can't have that happening every time you try to walk, now can we?" Rumple never noticed her move, and she had been several feet ahead of him, yet she was now at his side- lending him an arm. He stared back at her suspiciously and silently declined to take it, opting to strain to his own legs again. She brushed off his rejection and returned to her normal posture. While he was still working his way up from the ground, she started talking again; "So, first things first- is there anyone you need to say 'good-bye' to?"

He froze where he was, leaning on his crutch with his upper body and his good leg supporting the rest with its knee on the ground, and stared at her with that confused, paranoid look she could only attribute to an innocent puppy who had suddenly been kicked. He most certainly wasn't going anywhere with anyone- especially not her, not after that!

"I can't answer your questions unless you ask them, Rumplestiltskin,"

"...I don't know what you want with me," he growled, gritting his teeth; "but, whatever it is, you won't get it,"

She didn't say anything immediately. Instead, she waited for him to get up, at which time he found that she was again uncomfortably close to him. Her face was barely inches from his own, and she only stopped that far back so she could look at him. "If you'll remember, you were the one who set the parameters for the deal- not me. I know you might be accustomed to making bad deals...but none of your clients had the power to remove hoardes of ogres from a battlefield before now, have they?" she saw the fright in his downward-cast gaze and smiled in amusement. "Now, we can do this the easy way, or I can make you walk all the way through Sherwood Forest, but you'll be coming with me either way,"

...damnit.
Just like that, he was trapped. This morning, he woke up expecting to be heckled, beaten, and insulted like any other day, drink the finest beer he could afford, and then eventually pass out at home when he'd had enough to drink that he could ignore his self-hatred. This woman severed those expectations in under a minute. He nodded unwillingly and swallowed hard.

"There, see?" the cynical, amused smile became something sincere, and the newfound light in her face startled him. "Now, we can understand each other," Belle backed away from him. "I won't waste your time with asking whom you want to speak to before we leave- I already know there's no one in this town who'd miss you- but I'm certain you'll want to bring a reminder or two of who you were for your future self to look at," with that, she put two fingers in her mouth and made a loud whistling sound.

Before Rumplestiltskin fully had time to puzzle through what she was saying, the sound of fast, beating hooves- eight of them, to be exact- accompanied by the sound of wheels on land- clapped out. He could feel the ground vibrating in the soles of his shoes. The horse-drawn carriage came to a gradual stop just in front of him. He stared at it in shock. It was big enough to require both horses to pull it. The metallic rims and handles were made out of pure, clean silver. The seat was a two-sided bench made of flawless red oak wood. He had never seen such a carriage. Even the harness was without the slightest blemish. The horses both had long necks and powerful legs; they appeared muscular and broad. Their manes were thick and the bottom halves of their legs were feathered. Anyone who knew anything about horses would easily recognize them as draught mules.

Her gaze met the horse to the outside of the street first- a horse with charcoal gray fur and cream-colored mane. "Calliope," Belle turned her gaze to the other one, this one being solid black with white flecks; "Urania," she motioned for the conman; "this is Rumplestiltskin," she pulled herself up into the front seat of the carriage. "He's going to be our new friend,"

The one addressed as 'Calliope' padded her hoof against the ground and released a soft snort. 'Urania' shook her head.

The girl turned back to Rumple and motioned for him to come closer. She could tell by his hesitation that he was thinking of trying to make a break for it, so she waited for him to make his decision. He chose not to run. Once his choice was clear, she knelt so she was a little bit towards him. "You'll never get up with that leg," she said. He gave her hand that kicked puppy look and reached for it, then pulled his hand back. She laughed softly. "Well, unless you want me to move you again," and, knowing that his only other alternative was to have his body moved for him, nodded and accepted her hand. Once up, he gradually shuffled to the back of the seat, to avoid being near to her, and sat down. He instantly felt what must have been some invisible restraints tying him to the seat. And, although she must have known this, she sat to the front and said; "This doesn't have to be so terrible, you know. I believe we have a lot more in common than you think, Rumplestiltskin,"

"Just where are we going, anyways?" he spat, annunciating each syllable, slowly turning his head to the side as though he'd be able to see her. They were sitting back-to-back on the two-seated bench and he couldn't move far enough to see her even if he wanted to.

"Oh, you didn't know? I thought you would understand. My apologies," she actually turned around to see him. He stared at her in disdain and pulled his head away. "From now on, you are going to do 'anything I wish.' You'll be like a...like a servant," he flinched at the thought. "It's a small price to pay for the lives of thousands of children, right?" the man tried to struggle out of the invisible restraints, but the harder he pushed against them, the harder the held him down. They even pressed into the pressure points of his leg, causing him to cry out in pain.

He didn't try much longer after that.

"Please don't hurt yourself," she requested, compassion in her voice. "I promise you, it won't be as bad as you think it will. It's not worth all this fear," she smiled happily at him and grabbed his shoulder firmly. He jerked out of her grasp and glared at her. Belle simply sighed and pulled her hand back. The horses walked a few paces before she spoke again; "I truly was hoping that everyone was wrong about you, Rumplestiltskin. That you're not actually such an awful coward," she huffed and sat back down properly. "That's alright. I'll have enough bravery for the both of us, until you can learn to have some, too,"

He thought of trying to hit her- knock her unconscious so that he could run. In fact, the only thing that stopped him were the restraints that forced him into a sitting position. The horses pulled to a stop, and he had been so busy trying to figure out how to escape that he didn't realize the horses had walked a straight path all the way to his house, without any direction or suggestions from him whatsoever. Once he looked around, though, that confused panic came back into his eyes.

"Here we are," spoke that accent chipperly; "Better go on and get your things, then,"

His chest heaved from the way he was breathing- too deep, too fast. "How did you get here?!" he shouted, squirming so hard it jerked him everywhere. "How do you know where I live?!"

"You needn't be so loud. I'm sitting right beside you. And, to answer your question...I do my research," he pulled and strained in an effort to get away. Belle laughed softly in amusement and turned back around so she was sitting on her knees again in the seat; "My apologies again,"

Rumple's eyes widened as the most bizarre sensation he'd ever felt in his entire life- including that mallet splintering his bone- tore all through him. It was the feeling of a real, human hand, plunging into his chest cavity, pushing past his sternum like it wasn't even there. He instinctively choked and pushed his vocal chords to scream, but all he could get out were loud grunts of displeasure. All five fingers wrapped around his heart and pulled it from the spot. "St-stop!" he managed, trying to reach for her arm, though he still couldn't move.

"Here we go," she said, smiling at the still-beating organ in her hand. The happy expression soon took on a twinge of guilt as she looked right up at him. "This way, I won't have to come looking for you," she explained, her eyes immediately lighting up with some sort of excited fascination; "It's sort of like...I have your dagger,"

The only thing he could manage to do was stare at her in terror. The invisible pressures against him were loosed, and he scrambled to leave, either not remembering or not caring that he needed to step down cautiously. He fell completely off, hurting his leg again to the point that he lay there crying and shaking somewhere between the horror of having his heart yanked out and reminding his leg of its injury. Again, he found her right by his side much faster than he thought she could have been, and he couldn't find the strength to push her off him as she pulled him to his feet.

"You forgot your crutch," she held it out to him kindly. He yanked it away from her furiously.

"Leave me alone!" he demanded and shifted his body in an attempt to hit her, but she clutched his heart in her fingers and it immediately stopped on him.

"You must be really angry," she commented in awe as she stared down at his heart, pounding harder and harder in her hand. Dumbstruck by the obvious statement, he froze voluntarily. "I mean," she went on to explain; "usually, taking someone's heart out keeps you from feeling your emotions at full volume, so if you're still this mad...I can only imagine how angry you really are," that seemed to excite her. "Alright, then. Go get your things,"

He didn't want to, but he couldn't defy the order while she was holding his heart in her hand. Once he had grabbed the one item he wanted- a shawl that looked like it belonged to a young boy- he had filled the order, however, and the mechanical urge to do as he was told wore off. Naturally, the first thing he did was run- or, well, limp quickly- out the back door. Belle, knowing he had done this, sat with an amused smirk in the carriage and let him go a little ways before gently clutching the heart again. "Come back to me, Rumplestiltskin," she said with a serene smile, and before he could even process what had happened, he was moving back to the carriage of someone else's volition. "Get what you wanted?" she inquired innocently, gliding off the seat to offer him a hand. "Take my hand," it was probably meant as a suggestion more than an order, but because she was still holding his heart, he had to obey. He grabbed it. "Let me help," she urged. She situated herself so he could lean on her while he straggled on. "See how much easier it is when you let me help?" he still skitted away from her and hurriedly got onto the seat. She sighed and shoved her hand back into his chest, and the restraints immediately re-emerged to hold him down. "You know, Rumplestiltskin," she said, sitting next to him; he squirmed to get away, but found he could not. "You searched for me for twelve years, and now that you've found me, you want to lose me. Surely, you're not that fickle?" he stared at her in frightened surprise. "Don't look at me like that. I always know when people are looking for me,"

"So, you...you are..." she closed her hand as if to hush him, and his jaws closed immediately.

"Shh," she nodded. "Didn't you already know that?" Belle smiled at him, gripped his hand encouragingly, and then got up; "As I've said, I believe you and I share a certain goal. So, if you'll stop being miserable about everything, I'm sure we'll enjoy each other's company," with that, she plopped herself down to the front of the bench.

The lightbulb in his brain went off. Rumplestiltskin stopped struggling and eased into the bench. Yes, he had been searching for The Dark One for something like twelve years- but apparently, this woman didn't know why- didn't know he intended to become the new Dark One- didn't know he knew how- didn't know she'd sealed her fate.

Sensing his relaxation, she breathed a sigh of relief as well, and said; "Your head works much more clearly when it isn't clouded by fear," the horses began plodding along, this time at a trotting, steady pace. He gave her a sly glance out of the side of his face, thinking she couldn't see him.

"Hm, I suppose you're right,"

"Isn't it funny?" she didn't seem to like the silence much; "You looked and looked for me for so long, and then when you were looking for something else, you found me. Do you know what that's called, Rumplestiltskin?"

"No. No, I don't,"

"Serendipity," she informed him. "Finding something valuable when you aren't really looking for it," There was a small pause in the conversation, during which she turned back around to sit on her knees so she could look at him. "That name of yours is a real mouthful, you know. It suits you, but it's...just too long. So, I'm going to give you a nickname," she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I shall call you 'Rumple,'" Belle finally decided; "and you shall be my Rumple forever and ever,"

"Now..." he blinked and looked at her deviously out of the corner of his eye; "what if I don't like this nickname?"

"Then you shouldn't have had such a long name," she teased.

"And this...doing whatever you wish business, what does it entail?"

"Oh, well, there's the typical servants' duties. You will serve me my meals, and you will clean the castle-" he nodded to show he understood; "you'll see the castle, Rumple, it's very big. Let's see. You will dust my bookshelves and launder my clothing...of course, you'll tend the horses..."

"Uh-huh,"

"You will fetch me my books and my tea while I'm reading,"

"Alright,"

"Oh! I almost forgot," she laughed softly; "You will hunt the children, and I shall have you cook them for my meals,"

The shocked fright came back onto his face. "...pardon me?"

She giggled. "Don't you know, Rumple? A young, healthy child well-nursed is, at a year old, a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food," she straightened up her spine and raised her head, her smile growing with delight as more shock and terror appeared on his face; "whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled...and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a Fricasie, or Ragoust,"

After a few seconds, the fear seemed to have a "snapping" effect on him, and he laughed an awkward, high-pitched laugh.

"Ah, I take it you don't know that one," Belle tossed her hair to get it out of her face; "It was a joke. I don't seriously eat children- not enough meat," that one was obviously another quip.

The slight madness left him after that brief second. "So, apart from tending your basic needs...and cooking children...is there...?" given the hesitance and tone with which he asked, she realized what he meant, and promptly let out a laugh with her mouth in the shape of an "O."

"Oh, of course not, Rumple!" she shoved him lightly. "I'm not looking for love. 'Specially not that way. Make no mistake- you are to be my servant. Well, guard, really- but we'll get to that once you've seen the castle,"

"The Dark One needs a guard?"

"It's not a guard for me. A guard for my prisoners. You'll see what I mean when we get there," again, she brushed the hair out of her face.

"So, what am I to call you, then? 'Your Highness?'"

At that term, she visibly drew back, and then shook her head 'no' vigorously. "No, no, no- absolutely not. I spent years trying to get out of that awful title- I'll not have you bringing it back to me,"

Seeing that it bothered her, Rumplestiltskin pressed on under the guise of corteousy. "'My lady?' 'Your Majesty?' 'Lady Belle?'" each suggestion he gave had her shaking her head in disapproval.

"No, no, no- none of that. If you truly must call me something other than just 'Belle,' call me...call me..."

"Miss Belle?" he was intending to annoy her more with that, but she took it seriously and nodded her head in acceptance.

"Yes. That will be fine. 'Miss Belle,'"

And the horses kept plotting along to who-knows-where.