Summary: Rumpelstiltskin brings a baby of a different sort for his housekeeper to tend, and Belle learns a little more about the nature of monsters.
Prompt: Rumpelstiltskin has Venustrophobia (fear of beautiful women)
Prompt: Rumpel has somehow made a deal for a Mermaid bay. And Belle gets to take care of it.
Written to Sigur Ros - Sæglópur ("Lost at Sea")
Two more children come and go. They do not have names; they do not need names. The memories of the formless, ageless faces leave Belle just as quickly as the babies themselves disappear with Rumpelstiltskin, off to only the gods knew where.
She's growing braver, it seems.
Today is laundry day, and Belle likes laundry day. Since the weather's turned warm, she's spent such afternoons beating odd and magical stains from the strange clothing in which her master wraps himself (and she's had the thought more than once—wrappings like walls), and of course her own clothing, usually sullied with the more mundane animal grease or dirt from the gardens.
She sings without really thinking about it—comfortable enough to lose herself in the task, for little scares her these days—hanging the first batch of clothes to dry, but when she returns start in on the next bunch, Belle finds her largest wash basin missing, only soapy puddle left behind. "Rumpelstiltskin," she grumbles. This is some mischief of his, of course.
Sighing, she walks back to the kitchen to begin her search for her employer. At least, Belle thinks, she'll get the tea started, begin her search in the dining hall. However, she finds she needn't look that far.
Rumpelstiltskin sits on his haunches, in the middle of the cobbled, kitchen floor. He stares at a baby, sitting in her missing copper basin. He must have filled and moved it with magic, for it's a damned heavy thing when full. He swirls a finger in the barrel absent-mindedly.
Well, at least she needn't look further for her wash bucket. She approaches, rolling her eyes, "Well, that's where my washbasin went—"
That's when she realizes it's no babe Rumpelstiltskin has brought her, but a mermaid. "Oh my gods," she gasps, a hand going to her mouth.
"Ah, dearie, there you are. Hope you don't mind, but I borrowed this. Pressing business, you see." He gestures to the little boon. "Quite a precious, little thing, isn't she?"
Belle bends down alongside him, "This isn't funny."
"I don't know why you keep acting so surprised, dearie. You know what I do." He turns to look at her—she should know best of anyone just exactly what currency he trades in.
"People aren't things."
"She's not exactly a person, now is she?"
That is the moment the creature turns and casts its dark eyes on Belle.
She freezes, for the baby looks at her with an awareness she's never known before in a youth. She thinks of that child from the sporting troupe their court hosted one summer, though Belle found out it was no child at all, but a person with a child's body all their life. The tiny person had at first alarmed her, but they became fast friends soon after, the little person teaching Belle her cartwheels and somersaults.
Rumpelstiltskin snaps his finger between them, breaking the moment. "Now, now, enough of that, wee one. You're too small—don't even think about it," he says, pointing a finger in the baby mermaid's face. "What's more, this one's not at all like the other women you've encountered, dearie, but you'll learn that soon enough." He turns to a still-dazed Belle. "Captivating, eh?"
She gestures to the washbasin helplessly, as the little baby pats the water, paying no mind to the adults. "I don't know what to do with this."
He splashes a bit of water at his poor long-suffering housekeeper. "You're a smart woman; figure it out, dearie." Turning back to the basin, he says, "'Tis not so complicated. Isn't that right, little monster?"
At least I won't accidentally drown it,she thinks. "I'm going to need a bigger bathtub."
"No, you don't. The beastie doesn't require much. Wouldn't want her swimming away on us, now would we?"
Belle rolls her eyes at the joke. She looks over the child, it looks no older than a human baby of less than a year—though if it's the same for merfolk, she knows not. It is a beautiful being, she must admit, with pale, orange tufts of hair and a light green tail that catches the light from the kitchen windows. Upon closer inspection, Belle notes miniscule gills and scales skirting around the back of her ears. The baby tugs on her fin, oblivious to the appraisal, pulling it high. High enough to stick in her mouth and suck on it.
Ah, so not so very different, after all.
She laughs lightly, reaching a hand to smooth the baby's hair, but Rumpelstiltskin grabs her wrist tightly. "Careful, dearie. I'll warn you only once: she bites."
"Bites? She's not even with her milk teeth yet."
He release her wrist, shrugging. "Stranger things have been known to happen." He watches oddly thoughtful, as Belle proceeds—the hair is soft as any of Rumpelstiltskin's silk tunics.
The child looks up, letting go of her fin, instead sucking on her fist. "She's lovely." At the words, the baby looks at Belle again, and Belle wonders if she imagined that whole look of cognizance.
"They generally are." He stands. "Let's not bother with theatrics and you howling at me to give you a name. Let's just settle for something obvious. Call the precious sea monster Pearl, for she's shiny, hard to steal, and even harder to crack. What's more, she's worth ten times her weight in gold."
"Pearl," Belle repeats. "Good name."
"I'll leave you to it, dearie." He makes to leave, but at the door stops, "Belle, one last thing, no singing."
"No singing, but why?"
"Just trust me, dearie, under no circumstances are you to sing." He says the instruction like a half song himself, "No singing, no whistling, no humming. Not a tap of the toe, nor the drumming of a thumb."
He hops away, leaving Belle to wonder after his odd instruction.
That evening, she hauls the significantly less full tub up the stairs and into her room. She'd have to logic out a better system if the baby girl was to stay overlong. Once Belle is relatively sure the little one's asleep—tiny air bubbles popping to the surface with the rise and fall of her little chest, the flutter of her gills only just visible behind her ears—she sneaks up to Rumpelstiltskin's tower laboratory.
She's made no effort to keep quiet, but neither has she created a ruckus with some clumsiness or misstep. She stops outside the door, straightening her skirts before knocking.
"Enter," he says.
She slips in and frowns a little—though he's bent over his table, measuring out vials of only the gods knew what, glancing to and from an open tome on his desk, he doesn't wear his glasses. He isn't bespectacled; he has been expecting her.
He doesn't even look up. Gesturing in her direction, he says, "Stack by the door, dearie."
"What's by the door?"
"The books on mermaids you came to collect, of course."
She's surprised, but not terribly so. It's been months and now she has a better grasp of him and his eternal omniscience. "How did you know?"
"Because you're not as clever as you like to think yourself."
The remark rubs Belle the wrong way, so, though she knows he'd like her gone, she walks up to his table. "What are you going to do with her?"
He sighs, irritated by her prolonged presence. "Why trade her for something better, obviously. Have you learned nothing in all your time with me, dearie?"
"I know that, but why? And to who?"
Rumpelstiltskin sighs, his hands pausing. He pushes down the exasperation, answering calmly, "Why, because the merfolk don't take kindly to the loss of offspring."
"No one takes kindly to the loss of children."
"Yes, but merchildren are much harder gotten gains, dearie."
"Why is that?"
"Aren't we just full of questions today," he mutters to himself. "Most of the eggs don't survive."
"Eggs?"
He sighs, slipping the vials he'd been holding into stands on the table, turning to face her. "It's not like a liter of pups, dearie." She stares, still looking at him confused. "Oh the gods help us." He puts a hand to his head, the other he reaches toward a bookshelf, summoning one from the shelves. He passes it to Belle. "Here, read this."
"This is about fish."
"Yes, and merpeople have the same bits, at least where it matters. Read up." He waves a hand at her. "Now, off you go."
Belle is, frankly disgusted. Human mating practices are unsettling enough on a bodily level as it is, but fish for some reason strike her as more so, but at least, now she knew.
Most fish eggs were lost to larger prey before maturing to a decent size. She could only assume, from what Rumpelstiltskin said it was the same for merfolk.
She reads the more mermaid-specific books, looking every so often to the basin and the sleeping merchild. Every once in a while, the baby, Pearl, flicks her tail idly and without rhythm in her sleep; Belle wonders if mermaids dream.
Rumpelstiltskin is going to kill her.
It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Pearl was only a baby, and the day so very lovely. It had started out normal enough.
Belle had decided upon a system for getting the mermaid around the castle. She'd strategically placed her basins in the major rooms and used a rather large, bucket barely filled in which to cart around the baby. After three days, her arms got over the initial soreness, and she's slowly getting better at not spilling so much water all about.
When outside the castle, Belle had a solution for that as well. The wheel barrel, she'd found, held water. It wasn't a particularly deep wheel barrel, when all was said and done, it only held enough for a splash, the baby's fins either sticking out the side or curled up, serpentine beneath herself.
Today, she had taken Pearl with her to pick apples from the orchard trees surrounding the estate's only lake. Rumpelstiltskin's lake is both unlike and alike any other body of water Belle had ever seen. Though clean and clear, it had the stillness and depth of a polished mirror (though she hasn't seen one of those in all her time at the Dark Castle). There's an air to the lake that screams enchantment, like much else on his lands.
But then a fish jumps out the water to catch a fly and the lake seems again like any other pond or moat she's ever seen, just a touch bigger. (She ignores how unnaturally fast the ripples even out).
It's a hot day and between carting the mermaid along and apple picking, Belle finds herself winded and sweating quickly. When the breeze picks up, she stops, resting for a few moments. She looks up at the blue clouds rolling over her master's lands and wonders if a storm builds.
She'd certainly have to get the baby inside—bodies of water and tall trees not the best place to weather a thunderstorm.
A whine from the wheel barrel draws her attention. She turns to the little mermaid, "We should probably go inside soon. I don't think he'll like it very much if you get struck by lightning."
The child pays her no mind. Instead squirming around, mewling softly at the confinement. Perhaps the lack of water, also, Belle thinks. Moved to pity, she walks over to the uncomfortable charge. The little thing cries futilely, wrestling this way and that. The cries turn to tiny, sobbing hiccups. She picks up the baby, holds it against her chest and bounces it softly. The small body is wet from the water in the barrel, as well as sweat from her fit. Baby Pearl accepts the maid's comforting, curling herself into Belle, chubby arms around her neck.
She wonders what ails the merchild, but then remembers the summer carriage rides to the summer manor. The air inside had always been hot and muggy, for it was unseemly for princesses to ride in open-air coaches. She remembers how her legs had ached by the long-awaited time of arrival. "You want room to move, to stretch, is that it?" She pulls back to look at the baby, "You want to swim?"
Their watery eyes are soft, filled with chalky tears, and Belle knows that feeling so well—needing to just move. Poor, thing. She cradles the child, taking in the Rumpelstiltskin's lake. This was certainly a problem she could solve. "Now how are we going to go about this, hm?"
She sets the merchild back into the barrel and starts to untie the laces on her bodice. Once free of the blue dress, petticoat, stockings and work boots, she takes up the now much more docile mermaid. "Under-things'll do, don't you think?" Baby in arms, she wades into the crystal lake. The water's cold, but not terribly so, for the day is warm and the air thick and hot with the coming rain. "You probably know this a lot better than I do. Not too many occasions to swim in the Southlands." Once chest high, she takes Pearl under her armpits and holds her out to give her freedom to float.
Belle takes a deep breathe and dives beneath with the baby Mermaid. She paddles a few feet with it, and suddenly, just as they reach the drop off, Pearl rebels. Arching back in Belle's arms, she dives deep, flapping her tail up and into the housekeeper's face. She disappears into the depths of the lake.
She tries to swim after, but has lost sight of the babe and needs air—badly. Gasping, she breaks the surface. She takes in gulps of air and dives back down, but her dress is heavy and she's no swimmer, and worst of all, the baby is nowhere to be seen.
Rumpelstiltskin is going to kill her, she thinks again, but he's the only answer.
Emerging from the lake a sopping mess, she's clad in chemise and pantaloons, but there's no time for thoughts to modesty. Belle calls his name once, twice, three times.
He appears in a pop without ceremony. "It goes without saying, that I was in the middle of something, dearie—" He takes her in, as well as the empty barrel. "What have you done?"
Her eyes dart to the lake, the ripples already a distant memory. "I—"
"Where is it?" He asks, but they both know he already knows exactly where it is. "Godsdammnit, don't tell me it's bloody in there." He points to the lake. "Seven fucking hells. Of course, you'd take the little loch monster for a quick dip. Fool of a girl," he says, unbuttoning his waistcoat. He looks at her, growling, "Well don't just stand there like an idiot," he points a toe at her. "Start in on the boots. Don't have all day. Bigger monsters might think it tasty."
She hurries forward and kneeling on the ground, starts unlacing Rumpelstiltskin's ridiculously complicated boots fast as her wet fingers will allow. Soon, he's bending at the waist, working on the second boot.
She finishes with the laces. "Alright, lift your foot—"
He pushes her back away from him, grasping for himself one and then the other, pulling off his knee-high shoes. She sits, where she fell on her backside, watching the Dark One stomp into his own lake. He wears only his leather breeches. She thinks not for the first time what a strange paradox that he should be so small and yet hold so much power. When waist high, he dives below, leaving Belle alone.
The wait is terrible and if a conflict rages, the glassy surface reveals no evidence.
Without warning, Rumpelstiltskin breaks into the air, the mermaid screaming in a pitch Belle has never heard before. He traipses to the shoreline angrily. He holds her at arm's length, and Pearl fights him the whole way.
He nearly hurls the thing down into Belle's arms, a scaly finger then going into his mouth. "Fucking monster bit me."
The child stills for Belle, but when Rumpelstiltskin approaches, the child rears forward, howling and barring teeth—fangs—unknown until then to the once-princess. Only the gods knew where she hid them inside her little head. The maid gasps, almost dropping her.
Her master wears an expression of total disdain and disgust. "Yes, I know you wanted to go for a swim, but you don't want to be eaten by my kraken, eh?" he sneers. He takes the mermaid by the chin, though she fights against it with all the strength in her miniscule body. He forces Pearl to look at him, snarling, "You bite her and I'll clip your tail, you little quim. I swear it by the gods of land and sea." He points a finger in her face. "Remember."
The mermaid snaps at him and Rumpelstiltskin pulls away, the back of his hand raised as if to strike the thing. Belle angles away from him, shielding the merchild, "No, don't."
Rumpelstiltskin, for all his hot rage, stills, chuckling dark and full of wicked thoughts. He takes the tip of her fin between finger and thumb, rubbing idly, "I ought to. I really ought to. You'll not be quick to forget my taste, will you, dearie?"
The child blinks in wide-eyed confusion, as if to say, "Who me? You can't possibly mean me."
Huffing, he looks over Belle, still on the ground, wary. "Get the chit inside. Storm's coming."
For the rest of the day, she watches Pearl, wondering where her fangs went off to, but the baby looks all the part of an innocent.
When Rumpelstiltskin knocks on her door after sundown, she's rather surprised. She'd been reading, sparing a wary glance to the mermaid every so often. He doesn't wait for her allowance to enter the room. "Is the little monster asleep?" he asks her, from where she sits in her window seat, books stacked around her.
"Yes, in the bathtub."
He scoffs. "'Course she is. Why ever wouldn't she be?" he sing-songs, making a mockery of his housekeeper.
He walks to the attached bathroom, and Belle stands following him. She watches him watch Pearl, "What are you doing?"
"You're too easily fooled by siren song. She appears to sleep but," he continues absent-mindedly, "appearances can be deceiving." He takes a vial from his pocket and tips it, allowing one drop to fall into the bathtub, before Belle can stop him.
Nothing happens, the mermaid still releasing little air bubbles from the gills every so often. "Ah, truly asleep then." He slips the bottle back into his jacket, "Pig's blood. Couldn't resist if truly of her senses."
Rumpelstiltskin slips past her, back into the bedroom. "No swim garb?" he asks, eyeing her fully dressed form when she follows him out the bathroom.
Belle blushes, but pushes past her mortification at her master's having seen her wet and in white, leaving little to the imagination, to ask him of the more pressing matter, "Why didn't you warn me?"
"I did warn you. You were just too foolish to take heed."
"I thought you'd been joking."
He waves her off, "I didn't think a more serious warning necessary. They're more docile when on land, out of their element and at an obvious disadvantage, and of course, she's quite young. However, the little blight's learning fast it would seem."
"What are you going to do with her?"
He sighs and toys with the post of her bed, intricately carved, though of common wood. "Return her to her own kind."
"But aren't they the ones who gave her up?"
"No, just her mother, and as I said before, merfolk don't take kindly to the trading of their own—especially if executed by one of their own. There are those, vengeful types, luckily for me, who will pay high piece for her return and the name of she who sold her." He chuckles darkly, "Especially if the name comes from a rival tribe, which it just so happens what I want belongs to just such a rival."
"Tribes? I don't understand."
"Don't you though? It's war, dearie—just because you walk on two legs doesn't mean you get along with every other such being, aye?" He walks past and toys with one of her—his—books. "Just so happens, our little Pearl's mother has pissed one too many times upstream of her southern cousins. They'll finally trade me child and name for what I've wanted for sometime."
"What do you want?" she asks, surprised that he's been so open—perhaps biting was the trick?
"Another tale, another time." He sniggers, "It is a fine one, though. Full of all the wickedness of this world."
Then, Belle tries to make her own fate, because she's thought on it all evening and decided Rumpelstiltskin's as likely to kill the baby as return it if left alone with Pearl for too long. "I want to go with you wherever you're taking her."
"Absolutely not." He snaps the book shut, "Best not to be distracted when dealing with their lot."
Belle blinks, "I wouldn't distract. I could help."
"You? Help? Clearly, you've not finished your reading. If you had, you'd know they don't take kindly to beauty, as well as the selling of their children." He walks over to her, and with the confidence of one who knows well his own inventory, he twirls a strand of her hair about his finger, "And you're much too pretty."
Belle can't help, but look disappointed. She has not left the dark castle since the night of giving away Juniper, and she's bored—and he stands much too close. She's nowhere to hide the few tears that come to her eyes.
Rumpelstiltskin brushes one away with his thumb, but suddenly he looks thoughtful. "Much too pretty, but perhaps…"
He leaves the sentence hanging, taking her face in his hands, turning it this way and that. "Perhaps a distraction is just what we need. Yes, yes, they'd never expect that."
Then, he steps away and just like that the spell is broken. Belle wonders just exactly what kind he's cast, and casting still, that leaves her silently reeling. "Read up, dearie." He exists, but at the door adds, "And no more swims for the sea monster."
Belle watches, on her guard for the next few days, but the merbaby is as sweet and tame as new fallen snow. She comes close to forgetting what big teeth she has. Almost.
She does not see Rumpelstiltskin at all, leaving meals for him in his room and in his tower. It's a common enough action of his, but what with their houseguest, she wonders just what exactly keeps him so busy.
He comes to her in the afternoon as she sits on the floor, polishing his sword collection in the armory. Pearl plays, splashing in a bucket nearby. "You sure this is really wise?"
She looks up startled, "Weapon cleaning? I won't cut myself."
"Not that." He gestures about the room, elegant and intricate swords on display all about. "All the sharp edges, you tease the poor creature." Belle opens her mouth to answer, but he cuts her off, "No matter. I've made a decision. You may accompany me on my journey to see her mermaid kin and deliver back their missing scourge."
She smiles at the exciting prospect. "When will we go?"
"Tomorrow, after teatime."
She nods. "I'll be ready."
"See that you are." He walks to a nearby display and runs his fingers along the engraved hilt. "Also, as an after thought," he begins, and she knows it's something to do with Pearl—for nothing with him is ever an after thought, it's all always connected. "You asked me sometime back about the origins of your mother's necklace. I believe I can offer you an answer."
It is true, after letting go of Juniper, she'd remembered to ask after her trifling heirloom. Her employer had not known any more than any of the others she'd asked in the past. It had all been rather anticlimactic.
That is, up until now.
A hand goes to cover the gold slip of jewelry. "I thought you said you didn't know."
"Aye, I didn't, but" he strolls over to her, hands behind his back. "If you give it to me, I think I can procure an answer with little enough trouble."
"Give it to you?" she asks, suspicious.
He nods, and his eyes are too gleeful.
"What need of you of my necklace?"
"Can't very well riddle out an answer without it, now can I?"
"But that's not why you want it."
He grumbles, leaning down into her personal space. "Didn't your father ever teach you not to shit on charity? It's just poor manners."
She takes a moment to look over the particular scabbard she'd been polishing before answering, voice even, "No, my father taught me to always read the fine print of a treaty before signing it."
"He should have taught you not to pick fights with beasts you can't handle, the idiot."
"Don't speak about my father that way," Belle snaps.
"I'll speak as I please. Dearie, you have two options." He pulls back, regaining some control and with it his theatricality. Pacing, he continues, "You can either save me the effort of taking it from you unawares by giving it to me, and in return I'll go to the trouble of ferreting out its origins, or I'll steal it and you'll get nothing out the bargain. Your choice."
She sighs, knowing despite all his talk of options and choices, her hands are tied, and though she shouldn't, truly, truly shouldn't, she trusts him to give back what he knows is of great value to her. She stands, putting the now clean weapon back in its proper place, before unclasping her mother's necklace, her only physical connection to the dead woman. She wants to beg him to be careful, but her pride and anger won't allow it. She stares him down as she offers up the gold necklace.
He takes it without dropping her gaze. "See. That wasn't so hard now, was it?" He crinkles his nose at her, "Until tomorrow then." He vanishes, leaving Belle with nothing but stolen swords and his two current pieces of live merchandise.
Rumpelstiltskin is already in the dining hall when Belle arrives, though he does not spin. Instead he leans against the fireplace mantel. He looks up upon her entrance. "Ah, there you are." He watches as Belle struggles to lug the half-full bucket and baby into the center of the room. "And forgot the tea, I see."
After setting the bucket down—it only splashes a few drops this time—she catches her breath. "Well, I couldn't very well carry both, could I?" she asks, exasperated by him.
He sighs, snapping his fingers bringing forth the tea service from the kitchen below. Pouring himself a glass, he asks, "Still determined to accompany me, are you?"
"Very determined."
He smirks. "I thought so." As he stirs his tea, he turns to her, eyebrow cocked. "Weren't thinking of wearing that, were you?"
Belle looks down at her usual garb, "I'm not about to wear what I wore last time," she says, uncomfortably.
"No, no. That wouldn't do at all." Rumpelstiltskin sets the cup down and walks over to her, "And neither will all these skirts. Too easily grasped." He reaches out a hand, toying with her expansive work dress. "Just need to decided upon the color."
From nowhere, he pulls two swatches of fabric, one a dark blue, the other a crimson red. He holds both at chest level. Turning to the mermaid, he asks, "Which do you think?"
The child makes no discernable answer, as far as Belle can tell.
Rumpelstiltskin nods, "Yes, that's what I thought also." He grins at her, turning his head this way and that. He takes a step back, raising a hand, "Now don't move. This won't hurt a bit." He twirls his wrist and a cloud of purple smoke surrounds Belle. When it fades, she finds that he has dressed her for the occasion.
She wears an unbound red tunic and a pair of cut-off breeches, both of which she almost recognizes from the wash, were it not for the fact that they look brand new.
"That's better," Rumpelstiltskin says, as he circles her critically.
Belle breathes a touch faster. She feels her chest heave all the more, for beneath the tunic, she feels that she wears a stomacher, which tightens and raises her breasts, the tops of which are visible in the open necked tunic. She feels more naked than she did at the lake. "Can't I have a tie, for your shirt?"
He hardly hears her, still walking round her, a hand to his chin. "Best not to have loose ends for the grabbing."
What he means she's no idea, but she knows she doesn't like it. Belle toys with the top of the shirt, trying to find a bit more modesty, when she notices her nails are painted, the same red as the shirt. She looks down, finding toes to match. Instead of her blue house shoes, he's dressed her in flat, leather sandals, chained to her ankles with dainty gold links. On three of her toes are tiny, ruby rings. She laughs at the lovely oddity, wiggling her toes to catch the light.
When she looks up, she finds that Rumpelstiltskin watches her. "Yes, this will do quite well." Waving a hand, he vanishes the tea things, leaving only the silver tray. He picks it up and holds it as a mirror. "Come, see for yourself."
She walks over and a hand goes to her hair, which has been freed from where she'd bound it this morning at her neck. Now it's loose and flowing, the only restraint being a single braid running from ear to ear, spun with golden twine—his thread—in each ear is single gold hoop, neither audacious, but quite visible.
Rumpelstiltskin hasn't stopped there, either. In the silver tray, she sees that her eyes are outlined with black, the lashes too.
"Kohl, none to be found in your Southlands, I think."
It's strange, but Belle can't say she dislikes it; certainly draws attention to her eyes. Her lips too, are darker than usual, almost the same color as the shirt, red as an apple she'd pick from his orchard.
She looks rich and wild and entirely feminine.
"What do you think?" he asks the mermaid. "Pretty enough to distract your sisters?"
Belle turns, and yes, the little baby stares at her the closest to the look she remembers from that first day.
Rumpelstiltskin chuckles, "Yes, you'll do, I think."
When they arrive, the time between the blink of an eye and the echo of a heartbeat, Belle knows they are very far south, farther south than even her southlands, for the air is thick as any stew she could make and just about as wet.
He's brought them to a just outside a cavern, rock formations jutting up and around them. They stand inside the mouth of a tunnel. The time is before sunset, so the stone is painted yellow and shadow, and with her shirt she blends right in. Strangely enough so does Pearl, all green and glittering.
Belle feels like her stew just before bringing it to a boil; Belle does not feel safe at all.
It is then that she hears it, possibly the most beautiful sound she's ever heard in all her twenty-eight years. She hears singing, a choir in tandem, though no words can be discerned.
Rumpelstiltskin snaps in her face, like that first day. He chuckles, "Yes, it has its appeal the first few times." He eyes the merchild, entranced as Belle and leaning forward in her hold, urging her bearer to move toward the sound. "Ah, that reminds me. How could I forget," he says, though Belle knows he never forgets. He brings his fingers together in prayer before pulling them apart to reveal Belle's mother's necklace. "Yours, I think." He leans in close, hooks it without needing to see the clasp, spinner's hands to the last.
He stands so close, face-to-face. Gently, he runs his hands from the front of her neck, below her ears, to the back, pulling her hair from out the chain. When he removes his hands, the necklace falls to its proper place against her skin.
Suddenly, Belle has the urge to shake her head, to clear it. She feels like she's had one too many a glasses of wine, that's finally worn off. She hears the singing in the distance, but the intoxicating nature of it is not nearly so present.
"There you are," he says, smiling, a hand cupping her cheek.
"That's why you didn't want me singing. It's an enchantment, isn't it, and my necklace, it wards against it?" A hand goes to the trinket.
"Precisely," he says without enthusiasm. "On all counts. Needn't teach the creature any faster to clutch at its natural inclinations."
Just as Belle notices how close Rumpelstiltskin still stands, Pearl flops her tail and wails, gyrating this way and that, trying to break free. The imp backs away, grimacing. "Yes, yes, like all women, just had to announce your entrance, didn't you?" He points a finger in Belle's face. "You're not to let her too near the water and don't let them touch you."
Belle, though rather regretting this choice, still feels her blood quicken with the intrigue of it all. She's always been a curious one.
"Follow me, not too close, now." He leads them around the curved-cave tunnel, and when it opens, they find themselves in a bit of a rocked-in lagoon, perhaps the size of two-thirds the lake at the Dark Castle, and from every ledge and overhand, as well as bobbing about in the water, mermaids loll singing, languidly.
Belle can't help but gasp. Rumpelstiltskin turns his head, under his breath growling, "Contain yourself." Just as they step out of the twilight shadows of the rock wall, he holds up a hand behind his back for Belle to stop. He continues on alone, stalking closer to the water's nearest edge. "Fine weather we're having, ladies. Don't you agree?"
If she was not so dumbfounded, she'd roll her eyes at his irreverent audacity.
All head's turn to him. The song stops immediately, and Pearl stills. Belle hardly contains a startled jump when a head breaks the surface at his feet. "I knew we hadn't seen the last of you, Rumpelstiltskin."
He gives a jester's courtly bow, low and mocking. "'Course not. You've still something I want."
The terrible queen—for she must be their queen, as all eyes follow her regal movements, full of power known and respect demanded—looks around Rumpelstiltskin's legs to Belle and baby Pearl. "Who's she? You know, we don't take lightly to intrusions and strangers."
"Oh, her. She's mine; you need not pay her any mind," he says the only words that could turn every single mermaid's attention to his beautiful bauble. "Let's stick to the topic at hand, shall we, Danae?"
The queen—Danae—looks back to him. She wears no adornment but a golden band around her forehead, the color of her hair, a single yellow diamond in the center—the same color, Belle notices, as her feral eyes. "Come to return to the water a little lost oyster shell, I see."
"Toss back one too small to bone and fry, yes."
The mermaid raises herself in the water with no apparent effort and appraises Rumpelstiltskin. Like almost all the other mermaids in the lagoon, she makes no effort to cover her breasts. She smirks, her perfect white teeth shining, they end in sharp tips, and surely must be chiseled. Belle had read of such practices in foreign lands, past the Levant, below and beyond Cathay, where men ride elephants bare back, but of course, she's never seen anything of its kind.
After a moment, she leans forward on the ledge, at Rumpelstiltskin's feet, laying her dainty head, meekly against an arm. "And to deal?" she asks, eyelashes batting, the side of her vulnerable neck exposed. Belle thinks of the day she met Rumpelstiltskin, how he batted away Gaston's sword like a fly—the two actions are so similar it's uncanny, in their confident arrogance.
He leans down on his haunches, resting his forearms on his leather-clad thighs. With a scaly finger, he strokes the mermaid's perfect cheek. "Always to deal."
She laughs like summer chimes, taking the princess' breath away. Her sisters, ageless daughters and mothers, all join in the joyous, gilded sound. At the impromptu interlude, tension (rich and frightening) breaks and all the merfolk relax. Belle thinks that even Rumpelstiltskin's posture eases. A few go back to lounging idly on the rocks or playing with their hair combs that look to have been carved from fish spines.
Danae reaches a hand up to cup his own cheek, then runs it down his neck, then artery, to finally rest on his chest, over his heart. "Well, it has been such a long time, too long," the mermaid coos.
"Ah, but whose fault is that, dearie? Not mine, of course."
"Still, a kiss of tribute to make amends?" she asks, tugging her bottom lip between her wicked teeth.
Rumpelstiltskin sing-songs, "I don't do fealty. You know that, vile creature."
She laughs, singularly this time. "Sore loser. I would have given in to your price below."
"Aye, and just after I'd stopped breathing." He takes her right wrist, and all the mermaids freeze Belle notices. He raises the hand to his mouth, kissing each of her knuckles. Scrunching his face in surly spite and sarcasm, he says, "Chieftess, as one liar and cheat to another, I greet thee—my own kind."
She pulls back her wrist. With a sour look, she rolls onto her back, reclining on the rocks, hair splayed, back arched, her chest exposed for all the world to see—it's all a private performance for Rumpelstiltskin's benefit, of course. "Let's see this little wayward sister then." However, the upside down chieftess locks her yellow eyes on Belle. After a moment she rolls back, right side up, leaning forward, hand in her chins. She asks, without forethought, "How did you find her?"
Rumpelstiltskin stands, "A-tut-tut. I'm not that stupid, dearie."
The mermaid raises an eyebrow, "Apparently not." She squints. "Northerner, I think. How old is she?"
"You'd know as well as I."
The chieftess raises a hand to her shade her eyes from sunset. They do not look at Pearl, but Belle, searing. "Are her teeth in yet?" she asks with a smirk, and holding Belle's blue eyes, raises her left arm to grasp around Rumpelstiltskin's calf. She lets her wrist catch the light, and the Southlands princess notes something wrapped around it, something shining.
She wears a bracelet of Rumpelstiltskin's spun gold.
Danae toys with the bootstraps of his right leg, the ones Belle herself untied not a week back in haste. "I think her teeth are in—she's the look of one who's tasted first blood," she says, smiling like a twelve year old innocent. "Now, how did one so young learn your secrets, Rumpelstiltskin?" she taunts.
"Same as all, because I lost my temper, I suppose."
"Never could control it, could you?"
"A little late to be learning now," he says with resignation.
"You are getting old." The chieftess beams with glee before suddenly pushing off the rock and rolling back into the water head first, making nary a splash. Her tail, in the light, looks like a room full of Rumpelstiltskin's spinnings, before disappearing into the lagoon. There's something—everything—highly sensual about the motion, and Belle pushes down the urge to look away.
She surfaces at the largest free standing rock in the center of the water. She pulls herself up fully onto it, lying on her side, holding a silver, hand mirror face down against her hip. Danae lifts it to her face.
"Oh, dearie, you know how I feel about those."
She sniggers delicately, "Just wanted to fix myself, what with the company and all. Surely you must understand." The mermaid holds the item in one hand, slipping in a pair of earrings made of little arrowheads.
"Why you toy with those, when we've the same enemy, I've no idea."
"You know why, Rumpelstiltskin," she says, rolling his name on her tongue like pulled candies.
She looks at herself once more before lowering her hand and dropping the toy down into the lagoon. "There now, how do I look?"
"You know you look good enough to eat, I dare say."
She smiles. "Now on to business. I grow tired of entertaining for one too many." She glares in Belle's direction, though the housekeeper has said not a word the entire time. "The old request still stands, I assume?"
"You presume correctly, and it's no request—it's a fair trade, I think."
"Yes, and I hate those kind," she pouts. She takes her time answering, picking bits of seaweed out of her hair and from under the scales highest on her hip, then inspecting what she finds beneath her nails. "Too high a price. She was a great one."
"Yes, and she's dead."
The chieftess' eyes sharpen. "I don't have to pay your price."
"You forget I pay you a compliment in coming to you first, dearie. There are others who would want my boon, and what's more, would pay higher. I need not bother with you and your impertinence, should you prove as difficult as last time."
She laughs, "You're a liar."
"Try me. Midas perhaps, for he does love his oddities. She'd make a fine addition to his garden in a golden aquarium. His wife did die recently, after all."
"Death by statue, wasn't it?"
"Naturally, but I'm sure he'd be interested in the comforts a little merlass could offer in a few years"
"You wouldn't. I know you, Rumpelstiltskin. You wouldn't give her to anyone other than our kind."
"I just might." He shrugs his shoulders, mulling over his options, "Or, perhaps our dear friend. Rumor has it she's a feud brewing with your kin to the west. Think the price she would pay for a spy, or even one to loose her anger on from time to time."
The chieftess hisses teeth barred and dives into the water. It's many minutes before she returns. When she does, she looks half-human once again, angelic beauty and eyes of a demon. She swims over to his feet again, "Damn you, Rumpelstiltskin. Damn you to hell."
"Already been done, dearie." He chuckles, kneeling again. "So, do we have a deal? Tears of the last great queen of your kind for the return of your foundling kin?"
The chieftess looks thoughtful. Smiling, sweet and sinister, she says, "And a kiss."
He laughs darkly, but something in his shoulders reminds Belle of the nights when he comes in from the rain and grumbles at having to be outted his boots in the clean foyer, or perhaps that's just how she wants him to look. "It won't work, dearie. I'm not a man, remember?"
"All the same, I've always wondered." She offers up her wrist, wrapped in golden thread.
"Fine then." He pulls her waist high, so she rests the center of weight on the edge of the rock. The mermaid braces her body up with her right hand, while the other tangles in Rumpelstiltskin's hair, pulling his mouth to hers.
Belle can't help but watch. Her employer largely obscures the mermaid and their moment, but she can see that he lets the hand splayed on her back stray, a thumb brushing down the side of the mermaid's exposed breasts, whose tail flicks appreciatively. Suddenly, the golden woman's eyes open, catching Belle's in a sneer.
It's just a trade. Just a deal, Belle reminds herself. Rumpelstiltskin's shoulders tighten further, or perhaps she only imagines that.
"Look! Her blood rises to her cheeks."
At the sound Belle jumps and the couple part. All eyes in the lagoon are on her, and she feels herself blush all the more.
The source of the voice, a raven-haired mermaid with a water lily in her hair to Belle's left, speaks up, "There, she's doing it again."
The mermaid's pointed hand is only just out of reach—when did she come to stand so close to the edge? The creature too close for comfort leans forward to stare up at Belle unabashedly, leaning on her forearms. She can see that her tail is a wine-purple. Her voice sounds younger than the chieftess' when she asks, "Are they all like that?"
Belle takes a step back.
"Yes, Rumpelstiltskin," Danae asks the still-kneeling imp, "Do they all do that?"
"Didn't your great queen answer that question for you?" he says, calling the chieftess' authenticity into question.
The golden mermaid waves a hand carelessly, "Oh, that was so long ago. I can hardly be called upon to remember details like that. So, do they all make that color when caught peeping?" she asks glaring daggers at Belle.
He drags a hand up her chest to her chin, before standing, "Aye, they all do it, but none so particularly fine a shade as she."
"Is that why you keep her, Rumpelstiltskin?"
"She has many uses," he answers cryptically.
That makes Danae smirk, "Have you had a taste, Rumpelstiltskin. You could show us; I'm sure she wouldn't mind."
"Yes, but you must remember I'm not an exhibitionist dearie."
"And how much would you take for her? We'd make her last longer than most, I promise."
"Oh no, no, I've grander schemes for this one."
Danae laughs, "Come now, I'm sure we could come to some arrangement."
Rumpelstiltskin grabs her golden threaded wrist, and tosses her back into the lagoon. "Don't even think about it."
When she rises, she's smiling in earnest. "Oh, Rumpelstiltskin, you're more man than I thought, and growing old at that."
He sighs. "Your wicked mind makes your forgetful, Danae. Do you want the bastard thing or not?"
"Of course."
"Splendid," he says deadpan.
"Oh, I almost forgot," the chieftess says, and like her master, Belle knows it to be no after thought.
"What's that, dearie?"
"I want the name. How much?" Danae says, grinding the words.
"I thought you might. I've a project and could use some of those gems you keep locked away."
"No name is worth those."
"I know you've hundreds locked away down there. What's a handful, when I know you'll like what I'm going to tell you."
"Yes, but I know how much you want them."
"Then I guess neither of us will get everything we want today." He calls her bluff, waiting.
Finally, she asks flippant, "How many?"
"Oh, ten would suit my purpose, so double that, I think."
She sighs heavily, "Fine." She snaps, and three mermaids behind her dive down into the deep lagoon. "I still can't believe it."
"What?"
"Three hundred years and someone's finally found a way to lose a little of their depravity."
"Oh ho, fine word," he mocks. "Finally managed to keep those dictionaries from turning to morning mush down bellow, hm?"
"Soon," Danae says, frowning, "You're not the only magician who begs our audience, you know."
"Like one who would barter in such trifling spells would worry me," he says tiredly.
Suddenly, the two mermaids surface carrying a large satchel between them. The third carries a small bottle, which she hands to the chieftess before retreating. She gestures to the bag, taking out of an oyster shell. She cracks it open to reveal a large white pearl. "The name?"
"Ah, ah. You think this my first dealing with your kind? Be a dear and crack open one from the bottom of the bag."
Danae growls, turning to the two, she shoos them back beneath the water. "If you'd come for a swim you could see for yourself that they're from the proper treasury."
"That swim would last a bit longer than I'd like it to, I think."
"You won't always be this smart, Rumpelstiltskin." Licking her lips she says, "You're getting old and soft. Soon, you'll be well on your way to senile."
"Yes, and when that day comes I'll stay well away from the shoreline, I assure."
The two return with another bag, and Rumpelstiltskin takes it without further argument. "The traitorous bitch mother is called Tuinne of the North Marshes."
Danae smiles ear to ear, all fangs. "I was hoping you'd say it was her."
"Knew you'd like that. Gods' speed in your search." He holds out a hand, "Now, the rest of it."
"Yes, yes, tears of Antianeira, our crippler queen for the little sister without name." She looks to the mermaid next to Belle. "Moire, relieve Rumpelstiltskin's toy of what's ours."
"No. Don't touch her—" He turns, to see Belle standing too close to the edge, close enough for the red mermaid to grab her ankle.
Belle screams, but doesn't drop the baby. The mermaid hisses, grabbing the woman's forearm and pulling herself up. Pearl fights against Belle and in an instant, the mermaid's wrested her and pushing against Belle dives back into the lagoon with the baby kin, most of the mermaids follow suit.
The princess falls, but not all the way to the ground, Rumpelstiltskin catching her under the arm. He rights her quickly, stalking to chieftess. "Poor form, Danae. Give me the vial."
She cackles, and even that sound she finds a way to make beautiful. "Soft, like the underbelly of a salmon and just as appetizing." She tosses him the vial, which he catches with one hand. "Until next time, Rumpelstiltskin," she throws herself back, splashing both two on land.
Growling, he grabs Belle beneath the arm again and practically drags her out of the cove. Once hidden in the rock tunnel, he vanishes them back to the Dark Castle, water and all.
Rumpelstiltskin hates getting wet. Leather and water just don't mix. What's more, though he got what he wanted, on the whole, the adventure had been too close for comfort.
He had not meant to put her in that much danger.
He looks at his drenched housekeeper, who stands frowning at him. "What? Getting wet's to be expected."
"I can't believe gave her to them?" she almost yells.
He shakes his head, walking over to the fire, in an instant it's roaring. "Oh, don't look so betrayed."
"They're horrible. I can't—you always give them to good people."
"Good is a relative term." Rumpelstiltskin scoffs, "There are many darker places that would pay high indeed, brothels, sorcerers a-many. I've done her a mercy, though not the mother, when that clan's through with her."
Belle shakes her head, "They're monsters."
"They're what she is," he growls, wringing out the edges of his shirt.
"She might have been different, if only she'd been taught to not be so," Belle says quietly.
Rumpelstiltskin laughs. "Don't think yourself so high as to have been able to change a creature's nature. A monster's a monster no matter how hard you will it to be otherwise."
Ah, there. Too close again.
He kneels by the fire, dropping the bartered satchel. "You can teach a wolf to heel, but put it in a room with a bleeding babe and see how long the lesson lasts."
After a few moments, Belle joins him at the fireplace, "Are they all like that?"
"Yes, though they're one of the more malevolent packs, I'll give you that. The south has always had a stronger taste for blood."
"Why's that?"
"They're more creature than not, or maybe it's just all that sun. Hell if I know rightly." He points to wash basin left from that afternoon, "Fetch me the barrel." To be honest, he's unsettled. He'd overestimated his Belle, the necklace lacking in strength enough to fully guard her, and he's angry with himself for it.
Belle does as he bids. He pulls the barrel between them for utility, as well as distance, and begins to wash the clams of their salt and slime, before laying them in front of the fire to dry.
"What do you want the pearls for?"
"They've useful properties." He says, but knows she wants more information. "They ward against the enchantment. Why the bitches guard them so closely."
Belle nods. "One minute I was far away and the next I stood close. I don't know what happened."
"That's how it works, dearie."
"But I thought that's what my necklace was for?"
"Not strong enough apparently."
"What about the bottle, the tears?"
"They're quite rare. The dead queen wasn't always a mermaid, you see, and any being that's once been another knows secrets that neither it's components do. Homunculi have taboo wisdom, the likes of which the gods would rather keep to themselves. Does them little good and almost inevitably ends in tragedy."
Belle blinks. She'd not know that was possible. "She was changed, by magic?"
He nods.
"Did you do it, change her?"
"No, but neither can I say it gave me much pause—hardly a loss to the human race, that one. In any event, it was either Antianeira's tears or the once-unicorn's, which I'd have preferred, but that's a lost fucking cause in no small effort to an evil soul I know." When Belle stares wide-eyed, waiting for him to continue, he sighs, saying again, "Another tale, another time."
"She must have known many strange tales."
Rumpelstiltskin laughs, "Stories full of regrets, a mortal soul forced into that timeless body." His housekeeper looks at him sideways, "Oh yes, mermaids are quite long-lived creatures, if they can avoid the barb and keep from killing each other, that is."
Belle makes no response, staring into the fire and her tranquility surprises Rumpelstiltskin. Suddenly, he remembers he never asked her, "That bitch didn't bite you, did she?"
At his harsh words, she starts, "Oh, no. I'm fine. Just wet."
"Good." He didn't feel like going back and playing fisherman tonight.
"What would have happened?"
"Pain, but worse than that, a mermaid never forgets the taste of one she's bitten."
"What about P—the baby? She bit you."
"Aye, and she'd best not gain the chief's mantle—though Danae might just give it to her to spite me. Vain little shit would likely hold a vendetta against me over her once imprisonment." He shrugs, "It was worth the risk." Not to mention that by the time the little mermaid was grown enough to prove a problem he doubted he'd have much to worry over with her lot, not with his plans and his curse.
Plucking up one of the clams, he cracks it open with a nail. He pulls out the perfect iridescent pearl. "Give me one of your rings, dearie."
Belle sits, taking off the leather sandals before removing one of the dainty ruby toe rings. She passes it to Rumpelstiltskin, "Strange jewelry, but it was very pretty."
Before taking it, he plucks a bit of loose, gold thread from her hair. Then, taking the ring from her, he rolls his wrist, vanishing the ruby back to his storeroom and magically creating a large, pearl ring from the leftovers. "This should prove better protection, I believe."
She takes it and slips it on her right ring finger, "Thank you. It's lovely."
Rumpelstiltskin watches her look at the ring in the firelight. The woman is at the height of her beauty at twenty-eight, for after, human females tend to begin the sad, slow decline into age. She's captivating, the perfect distraction, even now with the smeared kohl under her eyes and the forehead wrinkles all the more prominent for the misadventure.
"You do blush a particularly fine shade," he says, before he can stop himself. Danae was right, he is getting senile.
Belle blushes deeper for the compliment. Changing the subject, she says, "We had a bargain I think. You promised to tell me where my mother's necklace comes from."
The information had been easy enough to procure. "It's a common trinket, traded up along the salt route, originally from the gold mines in the south. Bedouin gold. It bears the signature of a jeweler in Perth. Nothing out of the ordinary."
Belle nods, the answer more than she could have ever hoped for. She stands, determined to remember to look up Perth in his many atlases tomorrow. "Goodnight, thank you for taking me."
He does not answer, and after she leaves, stays digging out the rest of his bartered pearls from the soft bellies and skins of the magic clams before going to bed himself. That night, his dreams are full or water and red.
Notes:
- Danae – Perseus mother, impregnated by Zeus in the form of a sunbeam
- Antianeira – an amazon queen who crippled her male slaves, saying the crippled "best perform the acts of love"
- Tuinne – from the half-human, half-salmon mermaid in Scottish mythology, called ceasg, or maighdean na tuinne "maid of the wave"