The pathways through the forest past the waterfall were more treacherous in dusk. Surefooted, Rumpelstiltskin kept one hand on Belle's waist, guiding her and finding himself needing to catch her on a few occasions when the twisted roots of the undergrowth along the path caught her foot and sent her stumbling. By the time they reached the gardens he had grown quiet. Reflective. His eyes gazing upward to the full moon.

Belle raised a brow once she was safe on solid ground again, able to guide herself now, though his hand remained. Squinting heavenward at the subject of his gaze. Murmuring softly. "It's a beautiful night." He nodded in agreement, before letting his eyes move from the moon to her again. Taking her arm and dragging her along behind him. A dark energy rippling beneath his skin.

Despite the beautiful afternoon they had spent together, something else was again emerging. It frightened her and she struggled to keep up with him, taking her cues from him and going silent. Doing her best not to draw his attention to her when he was in this kind of state.

" The moon is high, the time is nigh…" His sing-song voice echoing through the gardens as he gave a more violent tug, the Dark Castle looming in front of them. "Soon you'll bleed, but you mustn't cry. " He punctuated his ditty with a twisted giggle and a horrible shudder worked it's way through her spine.

Repeating himself, he tugged her up against his body, her back feeling the impaling presence of his need. She swallowed as he whispered gravely against her ear, his hand moving between her thighs, cupping the fabric of her dress, pushing upwards, hissing against her ear. "Soon you'll bleed…" Hand remaining there grabbing the fabric, the other beginning to climb up her front, moving to press tenderly against her cheek. His words grave, all of his earlier humor gone, but the ferocity remained. " But you mustn't cry, Belle."

Her voice quivered a little as she whispered. "Please, Rumpel. You're frightening me." His grip tightened on the fabric in the front of her dress, the hand that had been pressed to her cheek moving instead to her throat, and beginning to tighten. She thrashed, struggling for breath, and fighting to turn so he could look in her eyes. Certain that if he could see what he was doing, he would stop.

The Dark One tightened his grip on her throat but pulled her around in-so doing, wanting to make his point very clear. "You are to stop these pet names, dearie." Her fear was too much with her restricted airways to point out the irony in his statement. "You are to call me nothing but Master from this point forward. Do you understand?"

Fingers only tightening around her throat she managed a strangled cry. Unable to discern her response from the gurgling cry he stroked his way down her throat and to her chest. His voice quiet, and cold like steel. " Do you understand?"

"Yes." She gasped. A hand moving to her throat that was quickly bruising from the short but brutal attack. Noticing the darkening of his eyes, she added quickly. "Master. Yes, Master." Her voice shaking as she struggled to remain upright. Reeling at the sudden change in the man she had spent such a lovely day picnicking, and swimming, and other things too. Intimate things. She was hurt by the change in him.

Placated by the proper phrasing he relaxed measurably and guided her back into the Castle. Taking a black leather satchel from a table in the main sitting room he led her back to the room she had been imprisoned in.

Silently she followed him, a heavy sense of foreboding weighing down her steps. Her eyes drawn to the bag he was carrying. The wings of terror fluttering against her chest, disguised as the quickening of her heartbeat, she followed. He opened the door to her bedroom and she followed him inside. The door slamming shut with the aid of his magic, the second she was inside. She jumped and turned to look at the thick wood of the door. Wincing as she heard the telltale click informing her she was locked inside. This time with her captor.

Rumpelstiltsken had busied himself with arranging the contents of his satchel on the bedside table. A large metal and glass syringe with a needle that seemed unnecessarily long attached to it. An empty phial. A ragged book, the binding worn, the title indiscernible. And a black walnut phallus. Carved and sanded smooth. Belle turned to watch him, and as he closed the satchel she hazarded a question.

" What is all of this?"

Setting the satchel down he turned his gaze on her. Considering if he was going to answer her at all, his countenance hunched, all of his muscles taut. Finally he answered.

" For your virgin blood." He gave a nod over to the tools on the table. She paled, following his gaze and listening numbly as he continued. Her eyes on the wooden piece more then anything else on the table.

Continuing in the tone of an apathetic Doctor, his gaze placid as she quaked in fear. " This process is the easiest way to ensure less of the ingredient is wasted. "

Shaking her head as she tried to digest the knowledge of what he intended, murmuring quietly. "No. You cannot do that to me." Her voice stronger then she had expected, fear and rage coming together and adding ferocity to her words. "No. You will not. "

Laughing he turned to face her. Incredulously. "Do you believe for one moment that you have a say? A choice? You stupid little girl." His face contorted into an animalistic expression and in a sharp motion he had extended his hand, pointing to the bed. When she didn't immediately move to do his bidding he began to advance on her.

Terror propelling her forward she was halfway across the room before she realized she was running for the bathroom. He clearly hadn't expected her to give chase and was slower in his advance due to it. She managed to slam the door closed before he reached her. Locking it and pushing her own slight frame against the door as she struggled to keep him out.

The click of lock opening was almost immediate and she began to openly weep. Pushing harder against the door, desperate for something, someone to intervene on her behalf. But there were no rescuing princes to save her. Magic hit her hard and she was propelled forward from the door, crashing into the opposite wall and crumbling to the tile floor.

Raising defeated eyes as the door opened. Her captor was in a rage, his skin rippling with the darkness of his curse. "You stupid bitch!" He screamed as he crossed the few steps into the bathroom to her crumpled form. Hand entangling in her long dark locks and pulling her roughly to her feet by her hair. Several strands being pulled out by the root on her way up. Whimpering she struggled valiantly against him.

"Rumpel, please!" She pleaded, tears pooling in her bright blue eyes. Her brow furrowed in pain and fear. When she spoke part of his name again he shoved her forward so she was facing the full length mirror opposite the tub.

Silently he removed from his doublet pocket the same scissors he had used her first night in the bedroom. Giving them three sharp clicks right beside her ear, a cruel smile twisting his lips at the pleasing sound and the way she quavered before him. Tugging portions he began his work of stripping her of the long satiny dark waves that had been her crowning glory.

Confusion contorted her features as more and more of her hair fell on the ground around her, some strands falling to her shoulder instead. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she stood frozen watching her reflection change drastically in the course of a few moments.

Replacing the scissors he surveyed his handiwork. Her hair shorter then most of the village hooligans, and uneven and awfully cut. He smirked and muttered. "Not such a beauty anymore, are we?"

Silence was his response. Belle was still crying. Her small shoulders shaking as she did her best not to let a single sound of her mourning reach his ears. Her hair was a small thing in the scheme of it all, when she considered the instruments on her bedside table waiting for her.

He walked out of the bathroom, gathering his satchel and the items he had intended to use on the girl. Putting them back into the leather bag and glancing over his shoulder to where she still stood at the mirror.

"I warned you. I gave you clear instructions, and you did not follow them. You failed to call me Master and to submit to your duties here. Next time you defy me, I will slaughter your countrymen." His voice was scathing and full of promise. The door to the hallway unlocked and he stepped outside, calling from the hallway before closing the door. "It is your blood that will stop me from draining them of every drop."

The door slammed shut again, the familiar click resonating in the room. Belle gazed at the stranger in the mirror one last time and stumbled her way to the bed, her vision obscured by her tears. She crawled into the bed, curling up and crying bitterly into her pillow. Her hand moving to run through the shorn mess that had once been so beautiful.

Something caught her eye from the periphery of her gaze on her bedside table and she turned to look closer, wiping her tears away and blinking rapidly to clear her eyes of the new recruits that continued to arrive in liquid form from her tear ducts.

On the table remained the wooden phallus. For some reason she had left it. Grabbing it and throwing it across the room, the sound of the instrument hitting the wall echoing for a moment in the room before it landed on the floor, cushioned by a rich rug no doubt pilfered from a neighboring land.

Curling up into a ball she wept until merciful sleep claimed her for a brief respite from her sorrows.