3

A Spinner's Legacy

Rumple managed to make it back to the Prytani quarters before any wandering patrols of Galatian militia noticed he was absent without a pass from his noble master. He went directly to Regina's hut and tapped three times on the door, something ingrained in him by his Prytani upbringing. "Polite as Prytani" had once been a byword for good manners, as had "Powerful as a Mage Lord". Before King George had attacked and decimated the ruling families and sent those who refused to bow under his military rule fleeing to hide in the hills and forests, like bandits.

Regina opened it and ushered it inside, the beryl on her collar glinting poisonously in the light from her single tallow lantern. "Rumple! Did you get it? I've done what I could, but Aileen's fever keeps going up. Damn it all! I'm so helpless without my magic."

"I know, dearie. So are we all," he sighed. "But I have a temporary solution." He came into the room. "Where is she?"

"There," Regina pointed to the little pallet she had set up beside the hearth.

Aileen lay listlessly upon it, moaning softly, her porcelain cheeks flushed a deadly hectic red.

Rumple ran to her, knelt and lifted her in his arms. "Your papa's here, little spark. It's gonna be okay." He fished out the precious vial and gently woke the child.

Aileen opened her eyes. "Papa? M'hot!"

"I know, pretty girl. Now, I need you to swallow something for me. It'll make you better, so don't spit it out, okay?" He prayed she was coherent enough to understand what he wanted. He placed the vial to her lips and tilted it. Please, gods of healing and mercy, let her take this medicine without a struggle for me. And let it taste like nothing at all. He knew some healing draughts were bitter, but he prayed this potion was not so.

Some of the potion dribbled past her cracked little lips and down her throat.

"Mmm!" whimpered the tot. "Wan' more!"

"Is is good?" he asked, relieved. He tilted the vial and she drank what was inside eagerly.

"Stawberries, Papa!" she lisped, licking her lips. "More, pweease?"

He chuckled at her wistful expression, thinking if the potion tasted like strawberries, that was a plus.

No sooner had the potion gone down her throat and entered her stomach, then it began to affect her. The red flush faded from her cheeks, her eyes lost their glassiness and became alert once again. The shocking heat vanished from her tiny body and she became sheened lightly with sweat as the terrible fever broke at last.

"It's working!" Regina exclaimed.

"Yes," Rumple nodded, smiling at his child. "For now. But it's not a full cure."

"What? Didn't Mal agree to help you?" the enchantress cried in dismay.

"She did . . . for a price. One that I have not fulfilled yet. I must dance at the winter gala . . . with a lady named Belle, the ambassador's daughter. Only then will she give me the rest of the cure." Rumple said heavily.

"Rumple, that's insane! You—a servant—go to one of their parties? As what, a waiter? They'd never let you in the door, much less into their hallowed hall to dance with a guest! You'd be taken to the block and executed if you were found out."

"You think I don't know that?" he hissed. "But I will pay any price—any price—to save my little spark. Just as you would if it were Henry lying here." He stroked Aileen's hair as she nestled against him.

"Sleepy, Papa," she whined.

"Yes, it's past your bedtime," he murmured. "I'm going to take you home."

"Are you sure you can do it?" asked his friend. "You'll have to disguise yourself. And this bloody thing!" she poked her collar with a finger.

The collar might look like fancy jewelry, but it, like much of Galatian society was a pretense. To one who wore it, the collar was a mark of slavery, no matter how pretty the design.

"I have to, Regina. I must practice the deception of my life . . . I who have always prided myself on straightforward dealings. And I will do this . . .for Aileen, for Bae, for all our captive children." His eyes flashed and he drew himself up.

He was not a large man, but the Prytani were not known for their size. He straightened his spine and lost the servile air he had learned painfully to perfect as Gaston's bondservant. There was a wild determination in his eyes now, a fierce hawk like look in his countenance, and a proud tilt to his chin. In that instant he was every inch a Prytani Mage Lord, First among his people, and the most powerful magician in all the realms.

Regina smiled. "The spinner has recalled his legacy," she said.

"I have never forgotten it," he replied evenly. "Only pretended to, dearie. And someday . . . the spinner shall reclaim what was stolen . . . and spin a web of destruction for those who have caged and tormented him and his people. But first . . .I shall dance with Lady Belle . . . and play the mysterious uninvited guest at the feast."

"Luck, Rumple," Regina said. "I'll be here . . .and watch the children for you . . and Henry too, if he can get off from his master."

"Thank you. And if the Fates are on my side that night . . . then perhaps they will be on our side come another night . . .once I figure out how to get these blasted collars off of us."

"If anyone can do it, you can. Or make a deal to have it done," she said with a sly smirk. "My family was good with horses and politics, but you were always good with people . . . and with words and contracts."

"Like a regular attorney, as my papa used to say," Rumple smiled sadly. It went without saying that he was a master in sorcery. "If I can manage it, I shall make the deal of a lifetime to get these off of us . . .but first, dear lady, I must make myself some new clothes. Because one can't go to the ball in this!" He gestured disgustedly at his livery.

Regina chuckled. "Well, your family always was the top manufacturers of clothing in the country. Hopefully you've learned your lessons well, Rumple."

"Oh, don't worry, dearie. I could spin as soon as I could walk . . . or so it seems. Now I just need to obtain the proper fabrics . . ."

"I could help with that," Regina offered. "My mistress Ella entertains many men at her estate. . . and here in the palace. And they're always leaving clothing in her suite or her rooms. I could pilfer a few likely ones for you."

"Hmm . . . yes, I could remake them with the proper materials . . .like gold trim and such . . . and I can get such in the palace sewing rooms. Miss Kate likes me, she won't question if I happen to abscond with a bit of extra trim and some scissors and sewing kit. I can spin myself thread, as I spin for Gaston. And if anyone asks . . . why I'm making clothes for my lordship," Rumple sneered.

"I'll bring them by tomorrow night," she promised. "Ella will call for me then, as she's having some party. She'll need me, to serve as her personal assistant." Regina snorted. "Because gods know she can't put on makeup or do her hair to save her pathetic life!"

"Thanks again. Now let me wake up Bae and we'll get on home," Rumple said.

"Let the boy sleep, Rumple. I'll carry him," Regina demurred, and she picked up the sleeping Baelfire and carried him to Rumple's hut.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Belle was awake with the sun that next morning, her maid, Brianna, arranging for hot water for her bath to be brought up by two strapping Galatian men along with a large tub. Brianna would have preferred a bathing house, such as they had in Avonlea, which had been copied from the ones in Prytainia, using natural hot springs for the hot pool and man made cold and warm pools where you could bathe, soak, and socialize. Both sexes and all ranks of people used them in Prytainia, though only the wealthy could afford such in Avonlea.

As Belle bathed in the scented lavender water, Brianna took the tray that another servant had brought up and began laying out the breakfast items on the table. The Galatian weren't much for breakfast, usually eating some form of gruel or bread with some fruit and ale. Brianna had asked for some toast and eggs, some ham, and fruit for her mistress. What she got was an apple, a slice of ham that looked rather fatty, toast that was burnt on one side, and only the scrambled eggs looked edible. Brianna frowned and reminded herself they weren't in Avonlea anymore, where you'd have lovely hot rolls or flaky pastry with coffee and peaches of a morning.

Sighing, she went back over to where Belle was soaking and started to wash her mistress's hair, saying, "Well, breakfast is here, milady, such as it is."

"Let me guess. They don't really do breakfast around here," Belle said, half-amused.

"They do breakfast, but like a soldier on march," Brianna rolled her eyes. "Not like at home."

"From what I know, George is famous for his late night banquets, so perhaps the food and wine will be better then," Belle sighed. "But at least I've been able to have a bath and perhaps may go riding today. I think Delight would enjoy that."

"Aye, she would. And hopefully this dinner will be better than breakfast. I did manage to get you some tea, rather than that nasty ale," Brianna grimaced. She was a lively woman of about twenty-seven with reddish hair and blue eyes. "Do they think you want to get drunk in the morning? Though maybe getting sloshed is the only way you can eat their poor food. Maybe tomorrow I'll go down and cook myself! 'Tis probably the only way you'll get decent toast around here!"

Belle chuckled. For she had no doubt that her maid would do just that if she felt it was necessary. Brianna was not one to shy away from difficult tasks. "Well, I'll just make do for now and see what happens. Oh, and Bree, have you seen any of the . . err . . . Prytani around?"

"The collared slaves?" the maid asked, lowering her voice. "Not that I've noticed. They say those only serve the great lords here."

Belle frowned. "What was done to them . . . was very wrong. And I can't help but think . . .someone should do something about it. But Papa has said there's nothing to be done, that George's army is the strongest in the land and now that he's captured the Mage Lords . . . he'll use them like weapons against anyone who he sees as a threat. So we must not be one."

"Aye, milady. The ambassador is right. But I agree . . .and if they could get those collars off, those Mage Lords would make the Galatians weep for what they done," Brianna said darkly.

Belle was thoughtful as she stepped from the tub and Brianna wrapped her in a thick bath towel. She was wondering about the collars and if there were any books on how they had been made in the library. She pondered this as she ate breakfast, deciding to go and find the library before being summoned to King George's presence chamber with her father. Her scholarly curiosity was raging—as was her sense of justice.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

Rumple had just enough time to eat breakfast with his children, serving them some porridge with honey and raisins and tea before getting into his uniform and going up to the palace to wait on Gaston. Gaston normally got up late, around ten, so Rumple had been able to sleep in a bit, and then woke up to give his daughter a bath and Bae also before starting breakfast.

"Papa, she's better!" Bae cried happily when he saw his sister, now back to normal, eating her porridge like a starving wolf.

"Yes, Bae, her fever broke last night after I gave her the special cordial and she's fine now," Rumple told him. For now.

"Did you make a good deal then?" his son asked.

"I made the best one I could," he replied truthfully. "Now eat, son. I need to drop you two off before I go up to the palace."

"Papa go work?" Aileen asked, porridge speckling her face.

"Yes, spark," he answered, gently wiping off her face with a cloth.

She made a face. "Milord Gaston—yuck!"

Rumple couldn't help but laugh at that, as did Bae. Then he shook his head and put a finger to his lips. "Shhh! That's our secret, remember?"

"Shh!" Aileen imitated him.

Rumple had been forced to teach his daughter caution, because he didn't want to bring the wrath of Gaston or one of his toadies down on his head. Gaston could punish him for his daughter's outspokenness, or worse, take her away from him. Bae understood the need for caution, but Aileen he needed to remind, making a game out of it, as he did now.

"More, Papa!" the child said when her small bowl was empty.

Rumple gave her half of what was supposed to be his portion. She needed it, he could do without it, and snatch something from the kitchens later today.

But she seemed more interested in playing with her second portion than eating it now, and Rumple, not wanting it to go to waste, said, "Hey there, dearie. Let's open wide for the dragon now . . . rroarrr . . . here comes the special magical dragon food . . . so this little bitty dragon can grow up big and strong . . . mmmm!" He made the spoon with the porridge on it swoop and circle around Aileen's head before diving towards her mouth.

The little girl clapped her hands and opened her mouth happily, as Rumple had intended.

He popped the spoon in and Aileen swallowed the porridge.

Bae grinned, recalling that he had also played that game with Rumple and his mother when he was that age and had played with his food.

"Mmm . . . more, Papa!" his little spark sang. "More dwagin!"

And their homely cottage echoed once more with the impish laughter of a happy child.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

Belle was dressed in her riding outfit, a deep navy blue satin with a velvet border about the jacket and rows of shiny brass buttons, and the skirt was divided so she could ride astride. She knew that the Galatian women liked to ride sidesaddle, but Belle detested it, and saw no advantage to using one of those ridiculous torture devices, which took away a rider's ability to balance on the back of a horse and grip with her legs, the way a rider was supposed to. The one advantage to a side saddle was using one to make one's full skirts drape just so over the horse and therefore only suitable on parade. Not riding cross country the way Gaston wished her to.

She waited in the castle yard with a groom holding Delight's reins for her. Her pretty half-desert bred mare was a gorgeous golden color with a flowing cream mane and tail with huge brown eyes and a white star on her forehead. She was tacked up for the hunt, as Belle had been invited to go along with Sir Gaston and his set of nobles. Belle went and stroked her mare's dish-shaped muzzle as she waited for Gaston and his friends to appear.

Soon Gaston strode into view, his broad shoulders and towering physique making him seem like a giant next to his manservant, a small slender man with long brown hair that wore a glittering jeweled collar about his neck.

A Prytani, she thought excitedly, and tried to get a better look at his face, but the servant kept his head down, as if afraid to meet anyone's eyes.

It was so different from her own servants in Avonlea, Belle thought. Because while they were servants, they also were considered people, and always made eye contact with their employers and sometimes even spoke their minds to them. Belle was unused to the subservience displayed by Galatian servants.

Unless, she thought, that was what masters like Gaston required. Her mouth twisted into a frown.

Rumple happened to dart a glance at her just then, figuring out who she was because he didn't recognize her. And he caught that petite mouth frowning . . . and looking at him. He couldn't fathom why she was giving him that look, unless she found him . . .distasteful . . . the way most noble Galatians id their magic born slaves. He clenched his jaw before he dropped his head again in meek acquiescence as he'd been forced to learn. But while his body bent, his rebellious mind seethed. So, my fine lady, you don't like the Prytani any better than your Galatian host, eh? Maybe you think you're better than me—a mere bondservant? But once I was your equal, lady, hells I was the next First Mage Lord, the equivalent of a prince in your kingdom! And someday I shall be again . . . and then we'll see who sneers at whom, lady!

He turned abruptly and went to assist his master on his horse, kneeling and holding out his cupped hands for Gaston to use as a mounting block. Gaston, with his normal disdain for Rumple, nearly crushed the mage's fingers when he stepped up on them.

Rumple gritted his teeth, only to catch a kick in the shoulder as Gaston settled upon his sleek brown hunter, an ill tempered horse named Demon.

"Watch what you're doing, lout!" Gaston sneered. "Good for nothing Prytani idiot!"

Rumple cringed on the ground, his hands and shoulder aching. "Sorry, master, sorry!" he said, making himself whine like a whipped dog. He hated that, but he had to act that way, otherwise Gaston would use his lack of respect to punish him with the collar.

Belle looked from the servant on the ground to Gaston and shook her head in disapproval. "Must you be so . . .harsh to him?"

"You don't understand, lady," Gaston said smoothly. "He's a Prytani. That's all they understand. They're as dumb as the sheep they herd and spin thread from!"

"But . . . isn't he one of . . .the Mage Lords?" Belle protested.

"Aye, he was!" Gaston laughed. "What of it?" He kicked his horse into a canter, forcing Belle to follow him, leaving Rumple there in the dust, and therefore he missed what Belle replied.

"I've always heard the Mage Lords were as well educated as some of our university professors," Belle refuted. She hadn't like the way Gaston had treated his servant at all.

Gaston gave a low chuckle. "Lady Belle, they might have been so, but where did all that fine book learning get them in the end? Nowhere but collared and conquered . . .it is might which carries the day, and there is no army so mighty as Galatia! We can rule the world if we choose."

Belle pursed her lips, wanting to refute him, but not daring to because she had to keep up cordial relations with George's nobles, no matter how much she despised this—prating peacock! That isn't how I heard it. I heard you caught the Prytani by surprise, that they were betrayed from within by one of their own, else you'd never have made it past the palace defenses. And if they hadn't been asleep and fuzzy headed, and had a chance to fight back, you'd have been singing a different tune. And that poor man there wouldn't be crushed beneath your boot, you beast!

For there was something that had drawn her to the servant in his modest livery, something still noble even though he was collared and another man's dogs body. Even with his hair shadowing his face, he still managed to maintain a kind of dignity, unlike the boor she was riding with, who seemed to like throwing his weight around. Belle despised bullies, especially boastful ones, and Gaston, no matter how good looking he was, deserved nothing but her scorn.

"What's your servant's name?" she queried.

"Why should you trouble yourself with that?" Gaston asked.

"Just curious. Has he got one?"

"He does. An outlandish one. Rumplestiltskin. But I prefer Rump . . . like a donkey's hind end!" Gaston said, and began to laugh loudly. He was so wrapped up in his mirth that he didn't even notice Belle was not joining him.

Instead Belle was gently guiding Delight down the game trail, her sapphire eyes dreamy. Rumplestiltskin! How fine it is! How it rolls off the tongue impressively.

It was too bad, she thought, that she could not arrange to speak with this man, for she had a notion that he would provide far more rewarding conversation that Gaston, who was now bragging to her about all the hunts he'd been on.

Belle hid a yawn and wondered what today's quarry was.

Page~*~*~*~*~*~Break

Several hours later:

Later that evening, Regina brought Rumple two sets of men's clothing. Both sets sported what was now all the rage among the wealthy rakes and noble sons in Galatian—lace up leather pants.

The pants were not native to the city, but were another thing that the Galatians had stolen from the Prytani along with their rulers. It was a Prytani custom to have leather pants as part of a man's dress code, to show off their legs and provide their women with something new to look at during a gala or a celebration. Every Prytani male owned at least one set of them, some were finely stitched for certain feasts or occasions, like a wedding. The pants were accompanied by a loose flowing shirt of any color with a high collar, sometimes accented with trim, and sleeves that billowed and were gathered at the wrists. A leather vest matched the pants and it could be tooled or plain, or however the wearer wished.

Rumple had not worn a pair of leather pants since that horrid night. He had not been allowed to. But now . . . now he would do so . . . as part of his disguise.

Luckily, his children were sleeping, as it was late when Regina had come home from Ella's party. So that gave Rumple time to measure the clothing she'd brought and decide which ones to make over, since both were too large for his slender frame.

One shirt was cut similarly to a Prytani feast day shirt, with flowing sleeves gathered at the wrist, in an eyecatching deep gold color . . . but Rumple saw the shirt had a tear in it . . .as if someone had ripped it off its owner. And some of the buttons were loose. But at least it had a high collar. High enough to hide the bloody collar.

Rumple could add some trim to it.

The other shirt was seafoam green. Rumple didn't like the color, though it was in better condition than the gold one. Plus it would require more taking in around the shoulders and waist.

The gold one it was.

Then he eyed the vests, finding one that was of a deep maroon leather, that was tooled with a dragon design on the back, of a dragon flying and small flames licking up the sides. He liked it better than the brown one Regina had also procured, and began to gently pick out the stitching in the back to make it tighter, so it actually fit him.

Had he had access to his magic, he could have fixed the garments in a twinkling, but since he did not, he could do it by hand . . . and thanked his patient mother for showing him how to sew. All the Mage Lord families had other incomes besides their magic, the Golds manufactured textiles and clothing, the Mills had once been millers and bakers but then their industry changed to equestrian pursuits and horsebreeding, the Hatters were famous for their millinery products, and so forth.

He sewed late into the night, and as he did so, he thought about the expression on Belle's face. Was he really that . .. repulsive? He knew he wasn't conventionally handsome, but still Aurelia and Milah, that scurvy wench, hadn't found him ill to look on. Perhaps wearing the collar had changed him, he sighed.

But he would keep his end of the bargain, for he'd never broken a deal in his life. He would go to the winter gala and dance with Lady Belle, and perhaps dressed in these clothes, like the traditional ones of a gentleman of his homeland, she would not be adverse to a dance or two. Then his bargain would be fulfilled and Maleficent would give him the rest of the potion to cure Aileen.

For my little spark, I would dance with death itself, if it meant saving her life, he vowed.

Then he went back to cutting apart the vest and redoing the stitching, his needle flashing in and out of the leather like a star fallen from the heavens in the light of the single lantern beside his cane rocking chair. Four days. He had four days to pull off the greatest deception ever, and he prayed to the good spirits he could do it. Because to fail would be inconceivable.

A/N: Thanks everyone who has fvorited and read this, I hope you liked this first meeting between Rumple and Belle. Next up will be the results of the hunt Belle was on . . .. what happens there is important later on in the story and the preparations for the gala as seen through the eyes of both noble and servant. And george makes Maurice a rather startling offer.