As Rumplestiltskin leaves Ios in the great hall, he feels something gnaw at him. There was a worry in her expressive eyes. He tries not to think of it as he paces his bedchamber, yet that's all he can think about. In his bed, he stares at the dancing light and shadows cast on the ceiling by the flames in the fireplace. "This is ridiculous! I'm hardly being cruel to her. That rug is far better than sleeping out in the elements." He closes his eyes resolute to sleep tonight since last night was devoid of rest. Eventually, he drifts off only to be awakened by plaintive sounds from his guest and some sort of ruckus in the great hall. He fights the urge to check on her. "She's safe. Nothing can harm her there. She's just testing her boundaries. If I give in, I will be at her beck and call. I refuse to be at her command." With a huff of determination, he holds his pillow on top of his head trying to mute the sounds of the commotion downstairs.
Shortly before dawn, Belle begins to awaken from her trauma fueled nightmares. Her body aches as though she's done battle during her hours of unconsciousness. With her eyes still closed, she notices the floor feels different than when she settled there the night before. "Did I roll off the rug?" Her eyelids open and her iolite gaze shifts erratically in the dim light to see the area around her in grave disarray. A small table has been knocked over, the rug is in tatters, and the pads of her paws feel deep gouges in the floor, no doubt from her claws. "What have I done?!" Her body trembles as she swears she hears her father, "You always screw everything up!" Her body jerks as her sense memory brings into the present the feel of his hand hitting her. In a crazed panic, she tries to push the bits of rug together with her paws, "Oh gods! I can't fix it!" and in her mind, her father laughs and mocks, "The Dark One's going to have you stuffed, like someone should have long ago. Welcome to Hell, Belle." She weeps and scurries around the great hall and stops in her tracks hearing Rumplestiltskin approaching. It's too late to even run outside and never come back.
He enters the great hall sweeping open the double doors with both hands. He's not sure what he expects to see, but what he sees isn't anything he imagined. With a flick of his wrist, the room is illuminated with the glow of torches on the walls. Now, he can get a clearer view of the damage done to his things. He doesn't like his things being damaged. All those years as a poor spinner, with next to nothing at times, makes him want his belongings treated with respect. He strides over to the fireplace and notices the gouges in the floor partly obscured by the bits of rug.
"Ios. Did you have a temper tantrum?" he asks in a stern voice.
Of course she doesn't answer, and he wonders why he's expecting a response. He frowns staring at the way parts of the rug are piled together. "Was she trying to fix it? If it was done out of spite, why make the attempt?" He knows she could have simply had second thoughts about her rampage, but that doesn't add up. "Where is she? Did she leave?" The ache in his chest reminds him how much he does not want that to be so.
He's about to go look for her outside when at the far end of the room he spies something dark and out of place. Turning his head for a better view, he spots her. She's wedged under a curio cabinet, curled into herself so tightly that she looks small – much smaller than should be possible for a panther her size. It's as though she's willing herself to be invisible. He's struck by the remembrance of the countless times he wished to disappear from the view of others. Those times he had no magic to aid with such a feat. He had simply wanted to be far from scornful eyes. He walks slowly toward the curio cabinet, deliberately making his footfalls softer. Still, he sees her try to curl her being into a tighter ball of nothingness.
He kneels down and she tries to hide her face, but he sees the unmistakable dampness of the fur under her eyes. "Ios, sweetheart, don't be afraid." He knows he could reach in and pull her out or even easier than that, have the curio cabinet magically transported to the other side of the room. However, he doesn't wish to traumatize her anymore than she clearly is. He wants to pet her, but he's not sure if the state she's in will allow it to not feel like an invasion of her space. His eyes ponder her tear soaked fur. "Whatever happened here wasn't intentional. Could she have done it in her sleep? A nightmare, perhaps? Of course, you ninny, she was injured when you met her." His lips become thin and drawn tight as he recalls the chaos left in the wake of some of his nightmares.
"I'll tell you a little secret. I once set my bedchamber curtains on fire during a nightmare." That admission inspires her to look at him, and he smiles knowing he's on the right track.
"Hey there, beautiful. No one's going to hurt you." She still looks unsure about relinquishing her hiding place, but at least she's looking at him. "Ios, look at this." He waves his hand and all the damage by the fireplace is instantly repaired. "See? No harm done." He can feel her anxiety lessen with that knowledge. He lies on his side in front of the cabinet to be more at her level.
"You picked a pretty good hiding spot. I would've liked this when I was a wee one and my papa came home in a foul mood." He observes the attentiveness in her eyes. Rolling up his left sleeve, he points to a scar on the inside of his arm above the elbow. "Before he abandon me for good, let's just say, he wasn't a kind fellow." The panther starts to unwind herself and crawl slowly towards him keeping her body low to the floor and her ears back.
"That's it. You can do it. Come on, my good girrrl."
Her head turns toward his bare arm, and he sucks in an astonished breath as she begins to tenderly lick the scar. She makes long slow strokes with her large tongue. Her tender effort creates a tangible warmth both physically and emotionally within him.
Unable to fight a building desire for closeness, he wraps his arms around her, bending to rub his head against her fur and rasps out, "I won't let anyone hurt you again... I swear it."
A moment later, he feels something broken inside her let go of any pretense of control and crumble like a million glittering pieces of a shattered cherished vase. He's not sure if panthers can sob, but if they can, he guesses the mournful sound which emanates from her is just that. She wraps her paws tightly around him. He can tell she's trying to keep her claws from hurting him.
In truth, her claws are leaving divots in his skin which are somewhat uncomfortable but not enough for him to disentangle himself from her needy grip. Instead, though the animal is near to his own weight, he turns his body to embrace her more fully and begins rocking her. In time, her woeful sounds subside, and her body becomes lax in his embrace. He continues to pet her, the weight of her body pressing against his own grounds and soothes him in an unexpected way. It is then that he thinks about how he opened himself up to her. In his long life, he's avoided talk of his father. With his wife Milah, he had only told her small bits of his experiences with Malcolm as his sole parent, and even that she threw back in his face when he hobbled himself to be a father to their child. There was a time - quite long ago when he knew having someone to talk to was of comfort, even if it was a rare occasion to have such a connection, but with Ios trustingly wrapped in his arms, his mind's acknowledgment of this lost understanding is a true revelation to him. This revelation ambling through the recesses of his mind weaves its way along the rest of his being until he feels blissful and starts to doze with his head resting against his furry companion.
Belle doesn't know what to make of all that she's feeling, and she questions how much is human reaction and how much is panther. These aspects of herself are becoming more and more muddled together, yet she can't find it in herself to care. She had someone to hold her as she cried over her loss, someone to anchor her to the present, someone who was willing to share his surprisingly not so different childhood hurt with her. She stretches her hind-legs out behind her almost reaching the base of his boots. She knows she shouldn't overstay her welcome, yet he seems content with her in his arms. She hears a soft snoring sound and conveniently decides it would be rude to wake him, so she snuggles deeper into his warm body and closes her eyes.
The two awaken mid-morning, and Rumplestiltskin discovers two things which had escaped his observations since becoming Dark One: One, it's still possible for the Dark One to wake with a crick in his neck from an odd sleeping position, and two, when one's foot gets tucked under a weighty animal, it still cuts off the circulation causing a pins and needles feeling.
After waking, they have breakfast or rather brunch much like the day before. However at the end of the meal, he can't find the will to leave her to her own devises. Hence though he's sure it's a tactical mistake, he allows her to follow him. She follows him up the winding staircase to his tower workroom, and he tells her about the tasks he must work on that day. He is deep in concentration looking through a tome, hungrily skimming the pages for any useful information when Ios latches her teeth onto his sleeve and tugs.
"What are you..." the irritation in his voice cuts off when he sees the beaker he's been heating is about to boil over. He swiftly dampens down the temperature.
"Thank you, m'dear. That was quick thinking. Perhaps I could use a familiar after all." Scratching her forehead just above her eyes in a way that seems to make her exceedingly pleased, he adds, "Are you applying for the job?" She puts her paw on his thigh, and he says, "Well, I'll consider that as good as a handshake. The deal is struck." He giggles and is amazed to realize it's not one of his giggles meant to set people on edge, but rather some genuine exuberance bubbling up in side him.
By late afternoon tea, his voice is getting scratchy. He's spent more time talking to Ios than he has spent talking at all since he lost his son, and his vocal cords are sore from overuse after so little utilization for centuries, yet he doesn't regret a moment. Even Baelfire would have lost interest in his ramblings by now, still Ios seems to enthusiastically take it all in.
She saunters along side him the whole way to the great hall – ears up, tail up, alert for anything he might tell her. He's never known an animal this attentive and that's counting some rather brilliant sheepdogs he's had the pleasure to encounter, and well, most humans certainly don't utilize this much attention span.
As he pours his tea, he can feel her stare on him, but she sits politely, making no move to abscond with his beverage this time. He smirks as her expression gives the impression that it's some kind of torture not to partake in the warm liquid.
"I have a surprise for you."
Her expression transitions to curiosity laced with anticipation. He waves his hand and another teapot appears. "I've done some research and found some herbs which will be safe for you when formulated into a weak cup of tea." Her iolite eyes gleam with appreciation and excitement. "Now, the problem is you're still not built to handle a teacup. So..." Gliding his golden fingers over the rim of a white teacup decorated with blue flowers and gold trim, the cup begins to expand until it's the size of a bowl. He picks up her teapot and pours the aromatic blend into her tea bowl. After he places the bowl in front of her, she nuzzles her head against his knee in appreciation, then begins to happily drink. As he drinks his own cup of tea from the chipped cup, he shares a tale about the tea the old spinster women use to make him on cold Winter days.
After their tea time, Ios is back in line walking with him when he is walking into a room in which she's never been. He holds a hand in front of him and says, "Stay." Ios cocks her head to the side in question. "Look, I appreciate your companionship more than you know, but I need my privacy for some things." She blinks waiting for more elaboration. Sighing he explains, "You do your business outside, and I go in here. So scoot for a while. Go do whatever you need to do."
Belle realizes her bladder is so full that teeth feel like they're floating, hence she trots off to the outdoors. When Rumplestiltskin is done with his privy time, he looks out the window and watches Ios who is now rolling in the snow. Belle finds the snow's chill makes her fur covered skin tingle with energy. After a couple of minutes, she goes back inside relieved and refreshed in search of her Rumple.
After spending the rest of the day together in Rumplestiltskin's tower, dinner is more lively than the previous night as she has more energy after having some restful sleep when she snuggled with him in the early morning hours. She follows him to the spinning wheel, but has an internal struggle. "The gold cord is pretty. I've got to touch it. No, I shouldn't. I'm still a human under this façade. I can control myself." Her paw twitches beneath her. "If I bat at it just once, he wouldn't really mind. Oh Gods, what am I thinking?! Just focus on his talking and don't look at the cord."
She shifts her body to keep the tantalizing gold cord out of her field of vision and listens intently to his story about a woman he taught to spin gold from straw. She doesn't like this story much. Maybe it's because the woman hurt him, and the woman doesn't sound nice otherwise, or maybe there's something more to her feeling of discomfort upon hearing of his unfortunate and brief relationship with that woman. She likes it better when he changes the subject to teaching his son to card wool. The stories about his son are some of Belle's favorites, and tonight, he proceeds to tell her several.
The hours chase each other like cubs at play until he announces, "That's enough for tonight." They stare at each other apprehensively. Half-heartedly, he says, "You, uh, should stay in here and sleep," but he makes no objection when she follows him out of the hall. He begins to mentally cuss at himself for letting this get out of hand. When they reach his bedchamber, he decides to set some boundaries.
"Go find somewhere else to sleep. You don't have to sleep in the great hall, but this is my room, and you're not sleeping here." She plops herself down on the floor in front of his bedchamber's doorway.
"Really, dearie? You're going to sleep right outside my room?"
She rolls belly up and puts her paw over her eyes. He bites his lip to keep from smiling.
"So you think being cute is going to get you what you want? Well, it's not going to work, little missy."
He closes the door and readies himself for bed by changing into looser sleeping attire. He lies in bed, yet again staring at the ceiling for about an hour, when he hears a sound of distress coming from Ios on the other side of the door. He's up and to the door quicker than he can think about what he's doing. Her eyes are closed, she's growling, her paws are running in place kicking in the air. The tension in her muscles and the shifting of her eyes beneath her lids makes it clear she is facing the onslaught of another nightmare.
He surmises in the state she's in reaching out and touching to wake her would be unwise. "Ios, you're okay. It's just a nightmare. Come on my girl, waken up." Her ears twitch at the sound of his voice. "That's it, waken up. Let me see those beautiful eyes."
Her eyes flutter open, and she looks disoriented for a moment as she pants hard. Her eyes meet his and he sees a deep sorrow in them again. He crouches down, pats her head and says, "It's okay. You're not alone." Then he looks over his shoulder into his room, and with a thought, a panther sized bed of blue and gold appears at the foot of his bed. Her eyes grow wide at the sight.
"Come on in. I'll be close if you need me."
She walks over to her new bed and tentatively touches it with her paw as if checking that it's real, then she climbs onto it. He strokes her ears for a moment before turning and getting under the blanket on his own bed. He discovers it's quite easy to fall asleep to the sound of her purring.
It's morning when he notices her purring is much louder. "How's she doing that?" The sun coming into the room is making him see red behind his closed lids, yet that's not the most intense sensation. His head feels something warm and damp massaging it. It takes another few seconds for thoughts to come together. He feels Ios' paws on his shoulders holding him in place. He opens his eyes to see part of her large head in his line of sight. "She's grooming me!" he thinks as her large tongue makes another swipe across his hair. He tries to sit up, but she merely huffs like a mother scolding an unruly child and holds him in place with her paws as she continues washing of his hair which is now thoroughly coated in panther saliva.
"Ios, stop!"
She sits back looking offended.
"I have my own place to bathe."
She shifts away from him looking ashamed and uncertain. He sits up, and he can make out his reflection in the polished mahogany headboard. Most of his hair has been molded into a sticky point like some trolls have. Trying to keep his attention on her instead of his hair which looks like he's had one of his potions blown up in his face, he says softly, "The thought and effort are appreciated. I'm quite fond of you too. But this," pointing to his hair, "is unnecessary." Once again, he looks at her and realizes if she were human he'd swear she's blushing. Without thinking, he gently butts his head against hers and she resumes purring. "I tell you what, my fuzzy one. After I'm done in the tub, which might take awhile, I'll make us a nice breakfast. Until then, stay here and keep out of trouble." He gives her head another playful nudge with his own and then gets out of bed walking to his bathing chamber.
As he closes the door, Belle falls back on the bed. "What is wrong with me? Who am I becoming?" Her memory goes back to a few minutes before, and all she could think about was how lovely his hair is. "I just wanted to touch it – and lick it, but that's normal, right?" Relieved that he's not angry with her invading his space, she inwardly giggles at the image of his hair standing straight up. Recalling how she woke up yesterday – frantic she'd be punished for destroying his things, she purrs knowing she's found someone who truly cares for her.
Author's Note: So Rumple became Panther-Belle's very own troll doll. Who needs styling gel when you have panther spit? Hehe! She fills an emptiness in him, so it's worth the inconvenience of sticky floof. In OUAT, both Rumple and Belle had abusive fathers, and I always wanted that common bond explored on the show, but the OUAT writers didn't, so I'm doing that here with some Rumple/Panther cuddles sprinkled in. Thank you readers for the favorites, follows and reviews, they are appreciated. Guest reviews are welcome.
