4
Dinner at the Dark Castle
Ivy started preparing for the big dinner the moment all the breakfast dishes were washed, dried, and put away. Because this would be the first time any guests save Jefferson, her father's old friend, had been to the castle, Ivy knew she had to plan a dinner of epic proportions. Luckily she had several cookbooks to get ideas from and her magical talent was for kitchen witchery, which meant she could use her powers to help her get things going in the kitchen and save herself time and frustration.
Well, some frustration. She asked Elaina and Jasmine, who had been to feasts in their respective kingdoms before, how many courses they should serve and what they should be like.
"Somewhere between six and seven," Elaina said.
"Sometimes we had thirteen courses, including a soup course, a fish course, and a meat course," Jasmine recalled.
Ivy looked aghast. "Even with you helping, I could never manage that. I think six courses are fine. We'll have a dish of appetizers, maybe something simple, like . . . umm . . . those vegetable lamb kabobs you like so much, Jasmine. You do know how to make them, right?"
"Yes, I think so. But it's been awhile." Jasmine admitted.
"I'll bake some bread, that always goes well with anything," said Ivy. "What else? How about that soup you used to eat in your palace, Elaina? What was it called again?"
"It was called consommé. Chicken broth, white wine, leeks, and mushrooms," Elaina recited.
"Sounds easy enough. You go pick me the mushrooms and leeks from the garden. I'll take care of the rest." Ivy told her. "How about a nice garden salad? With some walnuts on top and a raspberry vinaigrette dressing?"
"And some shredded cheese. You can't forget that," Jasmine reminded her.
"Right. That takes care of three courses. Now for the main ones." Ivy flipped through a few cookbooks, reading at lightning speed. "It's a good thing I can memorize everything I read," she said. "How about a ham with honey glaze and also a roast beef with gravy?"
"And some roasted potatoes," added Elaina.
"Rice pilaf," Jasmine suggested.
"Green beans almondine and broccoli with cheese. At least Clary will eat that," Ivy stated.
"Yeah, she loves broccoli with cheese," Jasmine giggled.
"So do I," Elaina added.
"And for dessert I'll make a chocolate mousse cake and we'll have fresh fruit too. How's that sound?"
"Better than some of the feasts we had," Jasmine said. "Except for the honey balls with walnuts. I miss those."
"We'll make them some other time." Ivy said. She rolled up her sleeves. "All right, let's get started." She clapped her hands and began to call out ingredients for bread. "Flour, water, salt, yeast."
The pantry flew open and sacks of flour, salt, a container of yeast, and a bucket of water floated their way to the counter.
She also called out other ingredients, and bowls, spoons, and cups came out of their cupboards and various sauces and things began to mix and stir themselves. A large pot filled with water and chicken broth went onto the stove and onions began to slice themselves on part of the counter while Ivy began to measure out the ingredients for bread dough. She had the dough start to mix itself while she shredded lettuce and grated carrots for the salad. The tomatoes cut themselves and so did the cucumbers.
She had the salad toss itself in a huge bowl while she measured out more ingredients for the dressing. A bag of walnuts came out of the pantry and she sprinkled some into the bowl of salad.
She whisked the salad dressing together and then sent the salad and dressing into the spring house, a small house connected to the main kitchen by a little door and it was kept cool by ice and magic. The salad and dressing would be kept cool until it was time to serve them.
Then she turned back to the bread and began to knead it before letting it rise in a corner of the counter near the stove.
By then Elaina had returned with the mushrooms and leeks.
"You mind cutting those up for me?" Ivy began.
"Umm . . ." Elaina frowned. She hated cooking, and was glad Ivy was good at it.
"I'll do it," Jasmine offered, bringing in some fresh peppers and a lamb shank from the spring house.
"Elaina, can you polish the table in the dining room and set it?"
"Yes. Should I use the good china and silver?"
"Of course. And the satin table cover," Ivy said. "And the good goblets too."
Elaina went and began preparing the table, linens, and place settings. She also cut some flowers and arranged them in a crystal bowl for a centerpiece.
Page~*~*~*~Break
Three hours later:
Bae wandered into the kitchen, and sniffed appreciatively. "What are you cooking now, Ivy?"
"Soup. And the bread is rising again. Bae, I need a ham and a roast beef from the smokehouse. Can you get me them? I don't want to use my magic. I might need it later."
"Can I have some bread with butter when it's done?" her brother wheedled.
"Yes, you bottomless pit! Now get my meat, please!"
"I'm not the bottomless pit, that's Jack. He can eat me under the table," Bae protested. Then he left, going out to the smokehouse where they kept sides of ham, sausage, bacon, and other meat. Most of it had been from the pigs butchered two months before, though they also had a few chickens and beef as well.
Bae returned with the ham and Ivy set it in a roasting pan. She did the same with the roast beef.
"When will that bread be done?"
"I'll call you when it's ready," his sister answered. "Now scat!" she flapped her dishtowel at him.
Two hours later, seven loaves of bread were cooling on the counter, Elaina had gone upstairs to pick out clothes and style her hair for dinner, and then the boys stampeded into the kitchen, followed by Clary. They were all starving. Finn had been practicing his flute upstairs in the conservatory, Jack had been watching the sheep in the far pasture, Tom had been planting small kernels of corn in the vegetable patch, as well as throwing rocks at the crows to keep them away from both himself and the vegetables. Bae had been outside in the yard, practicing some maneuvers with his sword riding Flicker.
"What's for lunch, Ivy?" asked Jack, setting his shepherd's crook near the door.
"Ivy, I hungry," Clary said, sounding pitiful.
"There's fresh bread, butter, jam, and cheese for lunch, and milk if you want it," Ivy said. "I'm too busy to make you all sandwiches today."
"How about this ham?" asked Finn, coming over to poke at it.
"Get! That's for dinner, Finn Gold!" Ivy scolded, smacking his hand away with a dishtowel.
Finn jerked his hand back. "Fine, all you had to do was tell me. Not start smacking my hands!" He was very sensitive about his hands, because a musician's hands, as well as a sorcerer's, were his livelihood.
"Sorry, but I didn't want you getting my food all grubby," Ivy said, half-apologetically.
Jasmine came back into the kitchen from the springhouse and began cutting slices of bread and some mild cheese for everyone, including Ivy, who would forget to eat unless reminded. Rumple came in from his lab and joined them.
Everyone feasted on warm bread, butter, jam, and cheese. Most of them had milk to drink, except Rumple, Bae, and Jasmine, who drank apple cider.
"How's the dinner coming, Ivy?" asked her father.
"Okay, Papa. It should all be ready by six," Ivy said.
"Good. You're an excellent chef, my girl," Rumplestiltskin praised.
"I helped too!" Jasmine said.
"Both of you are wonderful cooks," he amended, not wanting to show favoritism and risk having Jasmine get jealous. He glanced at Clary, who for once had eaten all of the food set before her. "I'm going to try and get your sister to take an N-A-P," he told them, spelling the word so Clary wouldn't understand and fight him. He wanted her well rested before the company arrived, so she wouldn't be cranky, the last thing he needed was his youngest behaving like a brat in front of Belle or her family.
Ivy and Jasmine preened and nodded at him, proud of their accomplishments.
Rumplestiltskin turned and looked at Clary, who was drinking her milk. "Hey, snippet, want to read a story with me?"
Clary set her cup down and jumped off her chair and ran to him. "A story! A story!"
Rumple bent down and picked her up as she grabbed him about the knees. "Come on, we'll go upstairs and I'll read you some nursery rhymes."
Clary grinned and shouted, "Simple Simon met a pieman goin' to the fair . . ."
Rumple chuckled and mounted the stairs, with Clary clinging to him and reciting her favorite nursery rhyme for all she was worth.
Page~*~*~*~Break
Rumplestiltskin rocked his youngest to and fro in the old maple rocking chair. Clary yawned and snuggled against him, drifting in and out of sleep. He had read her several pages of nursery rhymes until she grew sleepy and then he started rocking. He'd done this same thing to both Baelfire and Ivy when they were this age, finding that all three of his children found the motion soothing and calming and went to sleep without a fuss almost every time.
The rocking chair was in a corner of his bedroom. It used to be in the nursery, but he'd moved it here when Clary was a baby, because it helped get her back to sleep when she was an infant and he was feeding her two and three times a night.
Gradually, Clary's eyes closed and she slept, cuddled against him, her deep auburn curls contrasting with her porcelain cheek like a baby cherub's. She was a beautiful child, and Rumple was often amazed that the stupid nobleman who had been her father didn't see that and had left her on the doorstep like a bottle of old milk or a discarded pair of shoes. Instead he had seen only another daughter to be dowried and had abandoned her.
But then, perhaps Clary was better off with him, who loved her, than with a father who didn't care about her and might have married her off to the first lout who came along when she was older. Rumple would never do that to any of his children, he would allow his daughters the freedom to choose a husband the same way his sons were free to choose a wife.
He considered each child he had as a blessing, and their sweet and yet powerful love for him and his for them had broken the Dark One's curse to pieces. The curse of the dagger was to have knowledge and be lonely and unlovable, it made one practically immortal but it took away one's ability to feel compassion and love. But his children had loved him despite the dagger's curse, and true love broke all spells of bondage.
Now that he was free he found that he saw the world through new eyes, eyes both innocent and wise, and his heart was no longer lonely and afraid. He still bore his magic, for he had come to understand that his magic was an innate thing, he'd been born with it as had some of his children, and he'd die with it the same way. He still bore all that knowledge the curse had given him, only now instead of using it to make people suffer, he used it to make people aware of how Power could be a help instead of a hindrance or a harm. Power could also punish, as he'd done to John with the donkey hex, but those spells were finite, and the lessons taught with them hopefully stuck. And if he weren't as invulnerable as he had been, so be it.
He rose carefully and put the sleeping child down on his bed, being careful not to jar her into wakefulness. Clary was very sensitive, and would wake at the slightest movement sometimes. She stirred as he put her down on his feather mattress and he quickly lay down beside her and pulled a quilt over both of them.
She half-woke, and Rumple pulled her to him and whispered, "Go back to sleep, pretty baby. Shhh . . ."
Clary curled up with her head on his chest and soon fell asleep again, this time sucking on her thumb. It was a habit he'd tried with little success to break, and supposed she would grow out of in time.
He found himself growing sleepy as well and decided a nap would do him good too and soon he was snoozing beside his daughter with the patchwork quilt of many colors, sewn by Elaina, tucked about them.
Page~*~*~*~Break
Down at Shoe House, Belle was in a flurry, trying to prepare her children and herself for the big dinner that night. She'd made sure that all her kids had clean clothes and if some were mended a bit, the patches didn't show. Nora and June were excellent seamstresses, and could mend holes in clothing in a twinkling, and Aurora was a witch with a spinning wheel, and could spin thread and cloth so fine it was like wearing clouds but it was sturdy enough to withstand vigorous little boys running about and getting their clothing caught on briars. She had made two sets of trousers for Phillip, who was always wrecking his clothes, as well as a shirt and small cap. The only problem was she tended to fall asleep as she spun and have to be woken up three and four times before a task was complete.
Belle knew it was because of a disease called narcolepsy "sleeping sickness" and so she made sure that some coffee was always provided to try and keep Aurora awake as she spun.
She was going frantically through her armoire, trying to find a suitable dress for tonight, but it was hopeless. There just wasn't much call for a country healer with ten children to go to any kind of fancy ball or party, and all of the dresses she had were "serviceable" and "plain" and screamed country bumpkin. She wished she had some of her dresses from before the sack of Avonlea, but they had all burned when the trolls invaded her castle. She hadn't bothered burdening herself with such fripperies, she and her children were running for their lives, so who cared about silks and satins? She hadn't, not then, but now she wished for something with a bit of lace, or satin ribbon.
As she sat on her bed, staring at her clothes in dismay, she heard the sound of small feet tromping up the stairs.
Then Phillip and Peter burst into her room.
"Mom, my shoes don't fit! They pinch my feet," Peter said, showing her one foot encased in black leather. These were his fancy shoes, or at least ones not to be worn doing chores or playing about the village.
Belle felt the offending foot, and sighed. "Looks like you need new shoes again. Well, see if Rafe has a pair that'll do. You can stuff them with rags if they're too big."
"Why can't I just wear my boots?"
"Because we want to make a good impression on the Gold family, so we need to look our best," she told him. However shabby that is!
"Oh. All right, I'll ask Rafe," Peter said, yanking off the shoe and turning to go down the stairs. "I'll give these to Nick, they'll fit him."
"Mom, Rennie says I hafta take a bath!" Phillip whined. "And it ain't even Saturday. I just had one three days ago."
"Falling into the creek doesn't count as washing yourself," Belle said. "Like I told Peter, I want to make a good impression, so all my children will be neat, presentable, and clean. Understand?"
Phillip groaned. "I'm gonna die of pneumonia. Old Sally says if you wash too much that's what happens."
Belle snorted. "I take a bath every other day and I'm not dead yet. Dirt breeds disease, not soap and water, Phillip. Now go and take your bath."
"Aww, Mom!"
Rafe popped his head in, hearing all the ruckus. "C'mere, scamp! If you take a bath like Mom said and quit all that backtalk, I'll play rummy with you."
Phillip adored his older brother, but he was stubborn. "But Rafe . . . I hate baths. Rennie always puts all those flower oils into the water and it makes me smell like a sissy."
Rafe scooped up the complaining boy under one arm, "I'll tell her not to, little brother. I'll tell her to heat up some water and we'll have our own tub with nothing but a bit of pine needles in it. Now quit squirming!"
"Rafe, put me down!"
"No, because you're quicker than a greased eel." Rafe laughed. "And don't even think about trying to bite or kick me, or I'll whack your ass."
Belle lost the rest of the conversation as they continued down the stairs. She was grateful that Rafe was willing to help her out with Phillip, for she really didn't want an argument on her hands today of all days. It was tough trying to be both parents and she wondered how Rumplestiltskin managed. Maybe they could trade parenting tips.
A smile quirked up her lips. Ha! Two widowed single parents and do they talk about how lovely the moon is in the night sky or about how her eyes sparkle like diamonds? No, they talk about their kids. And yet . . . when they had touched yesterday, there had been a spark, something, that had made her quiver. And she had loved listening to him, that voice of his, so mellow, so . . . sexy. Gaston had never been so solicitous of her health, then again, as a princess, she'd hardly had to exert herself to pick up so much as a knitting needle, never mind a heavy basket of cabbages. Still . . . she had appreciated his kindness. And the way the wind had tousled that mane of curly hair of his . . . dark hair, as dark as the secrets he supposedly kept. But she was not afraid. Belle wanted to know more, and perhaps at this dinner would find out what made the solitary sorcerer tick.
If only she could find something to wear!
"Mom, how does this dress look on me?" Ariel came in, wearing a pretty pink dress with small tucks at the waist and a bit of freshwater pearls lining the bodice. She also had cute lavender seashell earrings and an abalone pendant. Part of her long red hair was caught back by a sea gem, a brilliant purple flower that lived in the ocean and which Ariel dived to retrieve.
Belle nodded. "You look very pretty, dear. I wish I could find a dress like that."
"You need help finding a dress?" asked Ariel. "I can help! And so can Kristen and Aurora. Rory's the best at clothes."
"I know. Your sister has the best fashion sense out of all of you," Belle admitted.
"I'll call them!"
"Okay, but Ari—change first! The dinner's not till another three hours," Belle called. And heaven help me if I'm not ready then. Maybe I'll plead a headache. Or pneumonia.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Belle twisted this way and that in front of the old stand up mirror in her bedroom. As promised, Aurora, Kristen, and Ariel had come up with something for her to wear for the dinner party. Aurora had dragged out her fashion magazines and the girls had put their heads together and plotted for awhile, saying in whispers, "We have to make Mom look . . . younger . . . more today . . . more sexy!" This had been followed by giggles.
Belle had no idea what current ladies' fashion was like, she'd been stuck in this quaint backwater village, as Gaston would have said, for years now, ministering to the sick and tending her children and her herb garden, none of which required fashionable gowns to wear of an evening. She didn't even want to see the magazines Aurora had, afraid she would go into a depression about how frumpy she looked.
"Mom! I found the perfect dress for you!" Aurora shrieked giddily. "It's called Crimson Vamp."
"Crimson Vamp?" Belle repeated. "Rory, I'm not a maneater . . ."
"Oh, Mom! Don't be such a fuddy-duddy. Isn't it perfect, girls?" Aurora asked her team of designers.
Ariel and Kristen nodded like marionettes.
"She'll look like a circus star!" Kristen exclaimed.
"Or a sea anemone," Ariel agreed.
Circus star? Sea anemone? Belle thought in alarm. "Girls, that sounds like . . . umm . . . I don't know about this . . . where's Rennie?" She could usually count on Rennie to be practical.
"She's letting down the hem of her old green skirt and matching jacket," Kristen replied.
"Come on, girls! Quick, to the sewing room!" Aurora ordered, sounding for once like the princess she used to be, before her kingdom had been absorbed by a powerful neighbor to the east who had killed all of her family in a military coup. Aurora managed to escape with the help of her trusted nursemaid, Flora, who had gotten her as far as Shoe House before leaving her to help the rest of the rebels. She had died as King Barek had put down the last of the revolts, but at least Aurora was safe.
Now Belle looked at herself in the mirror, after the girls had worked on her for over an hour and a half, and wasn't sure if this was the right look for her.
For one thing, the dress fit, but it was . . . tight in some unexpected places. It had a low cut bodice which caused some of her cleavage, okay a lot of her cleavage to show. The tightly laced corset she wore beneath the gown caused her breasts to fill out the bodice even more. She was tempted to cover them with a shawl, but her daughters assured her that's how she was supposed to look.
"It' s the fashion nowadays, Mom!"
"Well . . . if you say so, but . . . what about the color? I don't usually wear red."
The dress was made of soft yet slinky satin and was a brilliant screaming red. Belle usually wore blues, purples, greens-colors that reminded her of the foliage or water flowing, that were relaxing—sometimes even shades of amber or yellow, but never could she recall wearing this shocking screaming red.
"It's so you'll catch his eye, Mom. Don't you want him to . . . pay attention to you?" asked Kristen, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Yeah, he won't be able to look away," Aurora added.
Belle wasn't sure if that were a good or bad thing? Did she really want to catch the eye of a sorcerer? With eight children? She smoothed the front of the gown, Aurora and Kristen had done a fine job of sewing it on the old sewing machine. "Does it really have to have all these . . . flounces along the back and the hem? And it barely reaches past my knees."
"Nobody wears floor length gowns anymore, Mom! It's like . . . so Dark Ages," Aurora sniffed.
Belle glanced down at her black fishnet stockings and the red high heeled shoes she now wore. She wasn't accustomed to high heels, she tottered like a windblown aspen. It had been too long since she'd worn them and even then . . . had they really been that high?
But Kristen assured her that all the girls dressed with them nowadays, to make them as tall as their boyfriends. "So they're not looked down on for being tiny."
Had she felt that way with Rumple yesterday? Granted he was almost a foot taller than she was, but . . .
She reached up to touch her hair, which was stuffed under a grandiose white powdered wig with three tiers of hair, which Aurora claimed was the height of fashion these days among the rich and famous. Having never seen any of the rich and famous since fleeing to Valley Way, Belle had to take her word for it. But the wig felt awfully hot and scratchy. Ariel had pinned a red sea gem into it.
Then they'd done her face, putting on rice powder, staining her lips carmine, and even putting on a beauty patch by her chin "like the Duchess of Wintermere", whoever that was. Ariel outlined her eyes with squid ink to make them stand out and even added some false eyelashes, "so you can bat them like all the heroines do in the tales."
Belle hoped they'd stay on, they felt sticky and odd. But then, being uncomfortable was the price one paid to look fashionable, or so her aunt had told her long ago, when she'd gotten fitted for her first corset.
"All right, girls, go get dressed. I think you've done enough for me," she said.
"You look wicked, Mom!" they squealed. "You're going to knock that old sorcerer's head off!"
"He's not old. He's two years my senior," she protested. "Gaston was older. By about five years." Maybe the age difference had been the problem between them, she thought now. Or maybe not. Some men liked variety.
She wondered if the girls were right. She hadn't turned a man's head in years. Still, was this really the way fashionable ladies dressed nowadays? Her aunt would have had heart failure. The times sure had changed.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Rumplestiltskin was dressed in his finest set of black breeches and a silken gold tunic with a velvet cloak which clasped to his shoulders by golden buttons shaped cunningly to look like spinning wheels. He wore his best leather shoes with gold buckles and his hair was pulled back in a tail with a simple silk ribbon, also gold. He had even, at Bae's and Finn's insistence, taken along his gold headed cane.
"We don't want you trip and fall now, Papa." Finn had teased.
"Fall? I'm not in my dotage yet, you young whelp!" Rumple had scolded, shaking his cane playfully at the boy. "Watch your mouth, before I take this to you!"
"You can try . . . but first you'd have to catch me, sir!" Finn smirked. "How high can you jump?"
"Insolent wretch!" the sorcerer bellowed and promptly chased his insolent child halfway across the hall, using a tiny bit of magic to animate a statue to put out a stone foot and trip Finn up, slowing him down long enough for Rumple to grab his ear and give him a few mock whacks and then tickle him unmercifully.
"You . . . cheated, Papa!" Finn gasped, giggling uncontrollably. "You used magic!"
"Ah, but you never said how I had to catch you," Rumple pointed out. "Next time be more precise in your challenges, boy." Then he tickled him until Finn howled. "Are you going to behave?"
"Yes . . . I'll be good . . . please . . . mercy!" Finn begged, laughing so hard he almost couldn't speak.
"Oh, just beat him senseless, Papa!" Bae laughed. "Gods know, he deserves it."
Finn straightened, glaring at his older brother. "Uh huh, like you got beat for the hat incident, Bae?"
"I wasn't talking about that," Bae answered, knowing that he'd never live that down. Not so long as Finn remembered.
"Stop it, you two," Rumplestiltskin ordered. "The way you talk, Belle will think I'm some nasty wretch who takes a stick to you every day." He straightened his cloak.
"We'd set her straight, Papa," Bae said, for nothing could be further from the truth. It was a rare day at the castle when their father lost his temper and raised a hand to any of them, and the sorcerer's idea of a spanking was five swats with his hand. A far cry from the whippings Jack had endured from his master, or that Jasmine had seen given to the kitchen boy who dropped a platter in her palace.
"Go and check on the others, Bae. Make sure Clary still has her shoes on and Jack doesn't look like something that crawled out of a ragbag," Rumplestilskin instructed. "They ought to be here any moment."
"Shall I play you some love songs, Papa?" Finn queried mischievously, pulling out his flute and playing a short soulful aria on it.
"Hush, boy! Go and plague someone else, before I take that flute away tomorrow," his father warned.
Finn quickly tucked the flute away and followed Bae back to where his sisters and brothers were assembled, knowing just how far he could push his father before getting into serious trouble.
Rumplestiltskin waited anxiously by the door, hoping all was in readiness and that his children, please all the gods, would behave themselves tonight.
Then the doorbell rang and he almost went deaf from the clanging.
Got to tone it down, he thought ruefully, rubbing his ear. Then he threw open the doors.
There was Belle on the courtyard stairs and a few paces beyond were her children.
For a moment, Rumplestiltskin just stared. He had trouble finding his voice because of the . . . vision upon the steps. He was nearly blinded . . . by the eye-throbbing array of color and bosom thrust before him. It was awful! He couldn't believe what Belle had on . . . she looked like a . . . for a moment all language deserted him.
Then he managed to blurt out the first thing to come into his head. "What happened to you?"
"The girls helped me pick out a dress. They made it . . . from some fashion magazine. Do I look that bad?"
"Oh, no, you look . . ." like a trollop on a midnight stroll, he thought, then he tried desperately to cover, saying, " . . . lovely, dearie. You remind me of a painting I once saw . . ." hanging above the bar in a pub. What sort of magazines were they looking at—Fashions for Tavern Wenches? How to Get a Man Alone in 60 Seconds or Less?
He managed to keep his tongue behind his teeth and instead took her hand, bowing gracefully and kissing her wrist right on the pulse point. He helped her into the castle. "Welcome to my home, Belle."
He nearly had to duck to avoid being slammed in the face by the three-tiered white wig she was wearing, like a huge wedding cake, as she staggered suddenly.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she blushed almost as red as her dress. "I'm not . . . used to walking in high heels any more and Aurora insisted . . . and this wig, it's um . . ."
"Rather high?" he suggested, brushing some powder off his cloak. The damn thing shed like a shaggy dog! "And if your shoes pinch, dearie, take them off." You're already half undressed, who cares if you're barefoot.
Before Belle could protest, her ankle-turning heels vanished . . . to reappear against the wall beside the door.
"Better?"
"Much. Thank you . . . Rum." Then she turned and gestured at the mob of children following her. "Rumplestiltskin, may I present my children." As she called each one, they came forward and shook his hand and either bowed or curtseyed.
"Serenity. My eldest daughter."
"Charmed, dearie. She looks just like you."
Rennie blushed. "Everyone says that, but Mom's prettier."
"Rafe, whom you met yesterday."
"You look better than you did last time I saw you, boy."
"Mom fixed up my cut lip," Rafe smiled, shaking Rumple's hand.
"Aurora. She wants to be a dressmaker."
"If I can find someone who can spin and do patterns like I do," Aurora said, yawning.
"You spin, dearie? So do I."
"Straw into gold, or so I've heard."
"That's one thing," Rumple allowed, then thought that dress flatters you, girl. Pity you didn't make one like that for your mother.
Next came Ariel and then Kristen, who gave him a wave. A quiver went through him as he shook both girls' hands and he wondered if Belle were aware that these two had magic.
Peter, who was sandy-haired and fond of blue, bowed to him, then asked bluntly, "Have you magicked many people? Like you did to old John?"
"Peter! What a thing to say!" Belle gasped.
But Rumplestiltskin did not seem to mind the curious question. "Only if they happen to hurt one of my family. Sometimes the only thing an idiot like that understands is force."
"I wish I had magic. That was so cool!" Peter said, then he went inside.
"These are the twins, Nick and Nora."
"Pleased to meet you!" they chorused.
Rumple thought they were sweet, like golden cherubs.
Then he saw a little girl standing before him who looked like a willo-wisp, with the palest blond hair and gray eyes, wearing a simple blue dress and silver shoes. He knelt, so as not to loom over her, and asked, "What's your name, little one?"
"June. Can you read fortunes?"
Rumplestilskin laughed. There was a question he'd not been asked before. "I haven't tried my Tarot cards in awhile, dearie. But maybe I will after dinner. We'll see." Then he took her hand gently.
Again he felt a shivery feeling as his magic roused. You too, eh? I need to speak to Belle about these girls, and soon.
"June, for heaven's sake! He's not a Gypsy!" Belle shook her head. "And this is my youngest, Phillip."
Phillip came and shook his hand boldly. "Is it true you stopped the Ogre Wars singlehandedly?"
"In a way, young one. I made a treaty and negotiated with them," Rumple replied.
"But you didn't . . . like blast them with your magic?"
"No, because then the fighting would have continued. And that's not what I was aiming for," Rumple said. "Sometimes, Phillip, magic is best served by not using it, even though you can." At the boy's puzzled look, he said, "Maybe I'm not explaining that well. Come, meet my children and then we'll have some lovely appetizers my daughters Ivy and Jasmine made."
There were plenty of gasps and sighs as they made their way to the dining room, where the Gold children waited. Clearly the castle wasn't at all what they expected. The girls and Tom, who liked wielding a feather duster, had done a great job at making the castle shine.
Once all the children had greeted each other and Belle, Rumple escorted her to a chair on his left and seated her. Ivy clapped her hands and cups and glasses filled themselves with cool cider and a sweet wine for Belle and Rumplestiltskin.
Plates were passed about and filled with the delicious lamb kabobs Jasmine had made and small cubes of cheese or summer sausage with sesame crackers.
Belle went to sip her wine, and found some strange flecks of white floating in it. She paused with the glass halfway to her mouth.
"That's Galadriel's Golden Aspen vintage," Rumple said. "Nice bold fruity flavor and deep golden color. Not that I know too much about wines. Just a few. Try it."
"Are those . . . white flecks supposed to be there?"
"White flecks . . . here, let me see that." He took the glass from her and peered at it. Then his eyes twinkled and he smirked. "Dearie, your wig is shedding."
"My . . . my wig?" Belle feared she might die.
"The powder . . . that's what's in here. I'm not trying to poison you. Let me get you a new glass." He snapped his fingers and a decanter popped up beside him. The powder-flecked wine vanished and he poured her a new glass.
Belle felt like a fool. But who knew the wig would drip powder like ashes from a coal hod? She quickly excused herself and asked where the bathroom was.
Just then Clary announced, "Papa, I have to go potty. I'll show her." She scrambled down from her chair on Rumple's other side and grabbed Belle's hand. "How come your hair's white? Are you old? Or did you get a'scared by a ghost? Jack says they can scare the spit right outta you."
"Clarissa!" Rumplestiltskin groaned. He put his face in his hands. Out of the mouths of babes! "Forgive her, Belle, she's—"
"A curious little girl, I know," Belle smiled at the tot and said, "Sweetie, this isn't my real hair, it's a wig . . ."
"Did your hair fall out? Like Granny Morris? She said that's what happens when you get old. Her teeth fell out too. Do you have all your teeth? One of mine's loose, wanna see?"
Rumple predicted Belle was going to have a very interesting conversation by the time they reached the bathroom, which was down the hall from the kitchen.
The older Gold children and some of the Avonlea brood as well snickered and giggled, but Rumple's glare silenced all of them . . . for the time being.
Until Clary returned with Belle, sans the wig, and climbed up on Rumple's lap and announced, "See, Papa, she's not old, it was just a costume!"
Poor Tom was convulsed with laughter and had to crawl over to Finn's sleeve before he fell off the table.
"Clary, don't shout. I'm sure they heard you in the Enchanted Forest," Rumple sighed, hoping Belle was not offended by his too-inquisitive daughter.
"I have to admit, she looks a lot better without that wig," Jasmine whispered to Jack.
"But that dress . . . it makes her look like a harem girl!" Jack hissed back.
"Shush, you two! You're behaving like ninnies!" Elaina scolded, not wanting Rafe to think they were making fun of his mother. Then he might not talk to her again.
Jack stuck his tongue out at her. "Just cause you want to make calf eyes at Rafe over there . . ."
"You be quiet, Jack Gold!" snapped Elaina. Then she pinched his ear.
Jack yelped and glared at Elaina.
Rumple set Clary back in her chair and looked down the table. "Just what is going on down there?"
Jack opened his mouth to tell, but Ivy put her hand over it and said quickly, "Nothing, sir."
"Good. Let's keep it that way. More wine, Belle?"
"Good one, Papa! Get her drunk," Finn sniggered, and was immediately kicked under the table by Ivy.
"Knock it off! You're behaving like hoodlums!" Ivy glanced about for help. Bae usually helped her maintain order with her rowdy siblings but he was sitting across from Serenity and the two just kept looking at each other as if they were the only people in the room. Ivy groaned silently. Bae, why'd you have to go and fall in love? Good gods! She was surprised her father hadn't noticed, then again he was distracted by another pair of blue eyes.
Jack glared at her. "What'd you do that for?"
"Because you're embarrassing," Ivy snapped. "I'm going to pretend I'm not related to you if you keep this up."
After determining everyone was full from the first course, Ivy had the plates and platters float themselves back into the kitchen. Jasmine quit chattering with Nick and Nora long enough to help her serve the salad course.
"Did you know Nora told me that her and Nick got lost in the woods and trapped in a gingerbread house with a witch that eats children?" Jasmine said as she carried in the bowls.
"How'd they escape?"
"They shoved the witch in the oven."
Ivy chuckled. "Sounds like something I'd do. Bet she was a crispy critter."
Jasmine laughed and soon the salad was presented. Belle remarked at how beautifully presented the courses were, and Ivy blushed. Finally, someone appreciated her artistry.
Next came the soup course, and if Ivy thought her brothers had problems, it was nothing compared to when Peter and Phillip began to blow bubbles in their soup with straws from their pockets.
Jack nearly followed, but Bae reached out and caught his ear. "Don't you dare!"
Jack started coughing and Bae smacked him on the back.
Under cover of that little drama, Rennie cuffed both her brothers upside the head and snapped, "You're acting like barbarians! Do it again and you can eat plain oatmeal for breakfast tomorrow."
That stopped them for awhile, since plain oatmeal was disgusting and tasted like paste.
Belle looked down the table and was relieved to see that all of her children were behaving.
"This soup is delicious. Might I have the recipe?"
"You'll need to ask Ivy for that. She's my kitchen witch," Rumplestiltskin said.
"Do you mean that she can cook or she uses magic to do so?"
"Both. But she uses her magic to help her prepare and clean, and only sometimes to improve a dish for flavor."
"Do all your children have magic?"
"No. Only a few. Ivy, Finn, and Jasmine. Clary's too little for me to tell yet. Speaking of magic, did you know that some of yours have it too?"
"M-Mine?" Belle stammered.
"Yes. The little red-haired girl—Ariel, is it? She has quite a bit, and so does the one next to her . . . Kristen, I believe you called her?"
"Oh! Well, Ariel's a mermaid, so she's not human and I guess that makes sense," Belle said. "She can still mesmerize with her voice. As for Kristen . . . she came from circus folk, and they all have a bit of it, I guess. Who else?"
"The little willo-wisp. What's her name? Jane?"
"June. She was found abandoned at age five, her grandmother had died and she was burning matches to keep warm. Almost burnt down the hut, but it was cold. What sort of power does she have?"
"Something to do with light and heat," Rumple murmured. "I'd know more, but I'd have to examine her thoroughly. As well as Goldilocks over there."
"I . . . I don't know. I never thought they had magic . . . except for Ariel . . ."
"You wouldn't have known. Only another sorcerer would. Like calls to like, dearie," He explained. "But they really ought to be trained. Uncontrolled magic is dangerous, Belle. Even when you don't mean it to be."
"What are you saying?"
"That you should let me teach them. I won't hurt them. I'm not some monster that eats children."
"Yes, I know that. It's just . . . I need some time to think this over," Belle told him.
"Understandable. Just let me know when you would like them to start, I have sessions almost everyday with my own three."
The main course came out, and everyone liked it, even picky Clary. Ivy was so happy she almost danced a jig right there.
It was at dessert when trouble loomed its head again.
Ivy cut the cake while Jasmine poured the coffee and put out the fruit.
As Belle slowly stirred her coffee, which was with some sugar and some cream she felt something in her eye. She blinked rapidly and then swiped at her face with one of the cloth napkins.
Plop!
Something fell into her coffee.
She stared down at it in horror.
It was her false eyelash.
Oh, no! Now what? I need to . . . to put it back on. She pretended to stir her coffee again and scooped out the floating eyelash and hid it in her napkin.
"Something wrong, dearie?" asked Rumplestiltskin.
"N-No. I just . . . got something in my eye," Belle said, praying he didn't notice her one eye was missing its eyelash. "I'll . . . be right back." She got up and walked towards the bathroom, nearly running into a pillar because she was looking at the ground and not where she was going.
Finally she made it to the bathroom. She examined her face in the small mirror there, and now was stuck trying to get the eyelash back on. She wiped it several times on a rough washcloth and tried to stick it back on, but it refused to go back.
"Damn it, I need some glue!" she whispered. But she had none with her, having left the glue pot on her dresser.
She began looking through the tiny shelf above the toilet, hoping to find something. But she found only standard medical home remedies in jars . . . until she caught sight of a jar in the back. It was labeled Quick Fix and said it was good for fixing various things, like cracks in wood and so forth.
Desperate, Belle dunked the eyelash in the solution and then stuck it on her eye. It worked . . . until she tried to open her eye . . . and found it was glued shut.
Oh my good gods! How can I open my eye? How long until this stuff wears off? Forever? What if it never does? I'll be the one eyed Healer.
She was such a dunce! She should have just left off the eyelash. Now she was stuck with a closed eye. She could only imagine what Rumplestiltskin would think of her now—the Healer who glued her own eye shut.
She would have to go home immediately. Flushing, she hurried out of the bathroom.
But when she got back to the table, she saw that her children were still eating and she didn't want to drag them away. Miserable, she tried not to squint as she sat back down. And she kept blinking her other eye.
Blink! Blink! Blink!
Rumplestiltskin frowned. Belle's eye was twitching, almost like she had a palsy. "Did you get it out?"
"Get what out?"
"Whatever got in your eye."
"Umm . . . it sort of . . . got stuck," Belle muttered, her face turning the same shade as her dress.
Rumple raised an eyebrow. "Stuck? May I see?"
"No! It's . . . I'm fine! See?" Belle looked up at him, her right eye still glued shut and her left one blinking like crazy.
He gently took her chin in his hand.
Belle longed to sink into the ground.
"I think I see the problem."
I do too. I'm an idiot.
He ran a finger along the edge of her eye, his nail gently separating the glue from her skin. "There! I think you might want to soak it with some chamomile water. It looks a little red."
"Th-thanks! I'll do that." Belle no longer had an appetite for dessert. She just wanted to get home and hide under the bed. What must he think of her now, an idiot who glued her own eye shut? "Come, children. It's getting late and you have to get up early for chores tomorrow."
There were predictable groans at that statement, but finally they were all ready to leave. Belle felt like she couldn't get out of the castle fast enough. Surely she'd never be invited back here again.
"Contact me when you're ready to . . . discuss the other business we mentioned," Rumple said.
"Of course! Goodbye, and thank you for dinner," Belle said with a weak smile. Then she bolted down the path, only realizing when she got out on the road that she wasn't wearing any shoes.
Oh, hells! They can keep them! She limped all the way back home, thankful for the cover of darkness. So much for first impressions. He was probably glad to get rid of her.
Back at the castle, Rumple barred the door and as he did so, noticed the pair of red high heels standing in a corner. Belle's shoes. He thought about going out and catching up to her and giving her them. Or he could send them to her magically. Or maybe now he had another excuse to drop by her house.
Though one thing did puzzle him. What on earth had she been doing using his magical sealer on her eye?
A/N: Hope you liked this part! if anyone knows how to get one of those images for a thumbnail on here, please let me know, because I need a cover for this. Thanks!