Hope you enjoy this next chapter. Bring on the angst! :-) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story. I really appreciate it! Hope to update in a few weeks.
He sought refuge in his study, surrounded by his magic, in an attempt to calm himself.
"Do you realize what you have done?"
The Dark One's voice echoed through his mind, Rum's head ringing from his booming voice.
The Dark One was furious, for Rum had overcome him in his fight for control and had been able to withstand his dark desires. He had been overpowered, and now Belle knew of the curse. The first step to breaking a curse is the knowledge that one exists.
"Do you think you can save your precious maid?" The Dark One snarled. "Do you really think you can protect her from me?" The Dark One's fury drove shocks of agony through Rumpel's body. It felt like the blood in his veins was on fire, searing through his flesh and bone. He fell to his knees, gasping in pain. In the past, The Dark One had damaged his mind with images he would never be able to forget, but never had The Dark One harmed him physically. The Dark One could kill him if he so desired, though that wouldn't be in his best interest. Without Rumpel he had no body, no one to control, no mind to taint. He needed Rum alive.
Of course that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun.
The pain in Rum's body subsided and he let out a gush of breath in relief. His body was still plagued by a dull ache from The Dark One's attack, and his knees shook slightly, but he was able to get to his feet. He took this false mercy for granted and was caught of guard as he suddenly felt his body fly through the air and crash into one of his bookshelves, as if an invisible force had knocked him off his feet.
The force of the impact made his head spin and he tried to blink away the dark spots in his vision that threatened to bring about unconsciousness.
The Dark One snickered. "Poor, weak Rumpelstiltskin."
His voice was just as menacing as it had always been, but this time it seemed to echo within the room, as opposed to inside his head. He looked up to see The Dark One standing over him, his towering frame grinning cruelly down at him.
His form wasn't completely opaque, and Rum could make out the faint outlines of his spinning wheel behind him. He obviously wasn't strong enough to materialize fully without Rum's body.
He looked surprisingly young. His face was not plagued by the cruel hands of time, not a line or wrinkle denting his porcelain skin. Some might even have described him as handsome. He had a strong chin and high cheekbones. His eyes were black as the darkest of nights, making it impossible to distinguish where pupil ended and iris begun. His hair was jet black, a sharp contrast to his fair skin. To Rum's surprise, The Dark One was wearing his clothes; a simple white shirt with ruffles at the sleeves, his leather pants and boots. He couldn't help but notice, with a twinge of jealousy, that his clothing looked a lot better on The Dark One's muscular frame.
"You are nothing without me," The Dark One said, his arms crossed as he looked down at him.
Rumpel raised his hand to send him reeling, make his head explode, turn him into a snail, anything, but nothing happened. His brows furrowed in confusion and The Dark One laughed.
"Don't you see, Rumpelstiltskin?" The Dark One raised his hand, and in the blink of an eye Rum was dragged upwards from the broken bookshelf and pinned against the wall.
The Dark One moved with lightning speed and Rum gasped for air as he felt long fingers clamp around his throat. He tried to free himself of The Dark One's grasp, but it was no use. He really was powerless without him, nothing but the cowardly old man he had been all those centuries ago. It was this monster that had kept him alive all these years, had given him the control and magic he had abused countless times to get what he desired. And now he was paying the price. All magic came with a goddamn price…
"You are nothing without me, so why would you try to fight me, Rum?" He tightened his grip. "I am the stronger one. You can try all you like, but your Belle will never be safe."
He grinned maliciously, a sadistic glint in his eyes. He leaned in closer, their noses almost touching. Rumpel tried to press himself further into the wall, anything to escape his touch.
"You should let me have her, Rumpelstiltskin. You know you want the same things I do. Her pleasure." He hissed the last word, sending chills down Rum's spine. He wasn't sure what he himself wanted. He wanted her happiness. And maybe, if he was completely honest, he may want her that way. But not like this. Not the way The Dark One wanted her. He knew The Dark One merely wanted her body, her gagged screams for mercy. Rum wanted her smile and kind words. He wanted her company, her acceptance.
The Dark One's voice grew fainter as Rumpel's vision blurred, darkness threatening to consume and kill him.
"And I will have her." He released Rumpel's throat from his iron grasp, letting his slave breathe freely once more.
"You cannot win, Rumpelstiltskin," The Dark One chided, a crooked smile gracing his handsome face.
As he uttered these words, The Dark One's almost-opaque form seemed to blur, as if Rum was looking at him through rippling water. He disappeared to nothing but a dark presence and Rum could feel him seep into his skin and regain the control he so desperately clung to.
He felt magic surge at his fingertips once more, a sign that The Dark One had once again claimed residence in his soul.
He let his bruised body sink to the floor, sitting amongst battered books, burying his face in his hands. Panic started to bloom in his chest, settling as an ache in his stomach.
You cannot win.
He was helpless. He could fight all he wanted, fight till his body crumbled and turned to dust, in an attempt to shield her from The Dark One's cruel intentions, but in the end it was impossible for him to win. He was cursed. Cursed people don't win. They lose, and destroy those around them in the process.
Rumpelstiltskin never cried. The last time he had cried had been several centuries ago, when he had lost what remained of his family. But this hopelessness was too much to bear, and the only way to release his agonizing despair was through golden tears.
She sat in the dining room, lounging in her armchair by the fireplace, engrossed in a book. Rumpelstiltskin hadn't shown himself since his outburst last night, brought on by her immature provoking. She had pushed him too far. She was afraid she had erased the kind man that had started to appear through the golden scales. Her persistence had forced them both back to square one: a cowardly and powerful imp, and his slave.
She had heard a distant ruckus coming from his study late that night, but hadn't gone to check on him. He had to fight his inner demons by himself. Even though she wanted to erase his pain and suffering, this was something he had to overcome on his own.
She snapped out of her reverie at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her, announcing their presence. She turned to see him stand with his hands behind his back, his gaze cast downwards. He looked like a child, ashamed of his actions and awaiting punishment.
She had meant to avoid mentioning his "episode", but she couldn't help but be concerned. "How are you feeling?" she asked, hoping he would look at her.
"Just fine, dearie," he replied smoothly. He peeked up at her briefly before busying himself with staring at his fidgeting fingers.
He was lying. He could say it all he wanted, but he wasn't fine. She had known him long enough to see past his façade. But she let the subject drop.
He wandered over to his spinning wheel in the corner. He looked down at the empty basket next to it and frowned. "I seem to have run out of straw."
She eyed him as he trailed his fingers to caress the wooden wheel, watching it wistfully as it slowly turned. He looked so tired. He no longer stood proud and superior, and she thought she could make out faint shadows under his golden eyes.
"Would you mind going into town to fetch me some more?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the wheel.
Town? Alone?
She had never been outside the castle's perimeter. She had always been confined to the spaces he had given her, under his careful watch. And now he was letting her leave the castle by herself.
"Town?" she asked incredulously.
He merely nodded.
"You trust me to come back?" she asked, searching his face for some emotion. He remained transfixed by the rotating wheel. This had to be a test. He could easily conjure up more straw if he really needed it. This had to be a trick to see how loyal she was. Surely he didn't trust her to willingly return to this prison?
"Oh, no. I expect I'll never see you again." His voice faltered slightly and he finally looked at her. Gone was his mischievous eyes and impish smile, replaced by a look of defeat and glassy eyes.
He was giving her an out, letting her leave if she so desired. But why? Was he scared he would hurt her again? She had to admit she too feared for her safety when his eyes darkened, but she believed the real Rumpelstiltskin would keep her safe. She had to believe that. How else was she supposed to sleep at night?
And here he was, the real Rumpel, giving her the opportunity to save herself from his darker side. He cared enough about her to want her safe, away from him. Did he really not trust himself the way she trusted him? Did he really think it was too late to break the curse?
She could have said numerous things. Like how she believed he would keep her safe, that she wasn't going anywhere, that this was her home now. But instead she accepted his wishes, not wishing to upset him.
"Okay," she said softly, marking the page in her book before putting it aside, showing him that she would eventually return, even though it was most likely a lie.
With a flourish of his hands an emerald coloured cloak embroidered with gold appeared out of thin air and settled around her shoulders. Carrying the empty basket he strode over to stand in front of her. He gave her the basket and reached back to pull the hood of her cloak over her auburn curls.
"Wouldn't want you to freeze," he murmured. His fingers lingered by her cheeks and he tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear.
He smiled softly, his eyes consuming her, memorizing her face for darker days.
For it would be the last time they saw each other. He obviously didn't want her there anymore, and in a feeble attempt to protect her from the darkness she had already been exposed to, he was letting her go. This charade was nothing but pretend.
"I'll be back soon," she reassured him, fulfilling her role in this tragic turn of events. He didn't expect her to return, and she wasn't sure if she would. Returning would mean that she was committing to a life with him, committing to save him from himself.
He nodded, his eyes blinking rapidly, trying to subdue his tears.
The sight of him broke her heart, so she quickly turned to leave the dining room, before she did something reckless, like reach out to embrace him in an attempt to soothe his pain.
She left without a second glance, afraid that if she turned to look she would never be able to leave. This was what he wanted. And it was what she had wanted a few months ago.
Now it felt like she was leaving her home all over again as she strode down the steps and through the huge stone gates that protected The Dark Castle, not sure if she was ever to return.
The walk into town was long, nearly two miles each way. The chilling autumn air caressed her cheeks and she pulled her cloak tighter around her as she walked. It held the spicy scent of carefully woven magic.
Her feet ached when she finally made it to the market. The sky overhead was grey, threatening to rain on the stands scattered around the marketplace. Some of the seamstresses had already started packing up their stalls, trying to save their clothes from the approaching rain, whilst farmers stood stubbornly under the cloth roofs of their crooked stalls, huddled in their warmest clothing.
She returned the smiles of those she passed. The seamstresses admired her cloak, curious as to where she came across such fine craftsmanship. Belle merely smiled and replied that it was a gift from a dear friend.
The stall providing straw was towards the back of the marketplace, partly concealed by a stand selling apples.
"I would like some straw, please," she requested kindly.
The seller was a muscular man, over a head taller than Belle, his head grazing the roof of his stall. His face was plagued by years of hard work outdoors, and a scar ran from the corner of his left eye to his left cheek. He had a hooked nose, and a strong jaw that was covered in rough stubble.
He gathered a few handfuls of straw, tied them together and handed her the bundle. "That'll be three copper jots."
Darn it. Rumpel hadn't given her any money to pay for the straw; a sign that proved he didn't believe she would return. She couldn't walk back and get some, and she couldn't come back empty handed… if she even was coming back…
"I'm so sorry, but I seem to have forgot my money," she apologized. She watched his grey eyes narrow as he snatched the straw from her hand.
"Is there any other way I can pay you?" she asked, hoping she could come back another day and pay him his due.
He looked thoughtful for a moment before smiling slyly, leaning his face towards hers. "Well, there is one way…" he trailed off, his eyes travelling down her body, which was partially concealed by her cloak. She could sense him undress her with his hungry eyes. His hot breath smelled of rancid beer, and she quickly pulled away.
"I don't think that will-"
He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer, still smiling. Her knees hit the wooden stall, making her lose balance, their faces now mere inches apart.
"Don't worry. You'll like it," he whispered, his breath making her gag. She struggled against his hold, trying to pry her arm out of his vice grip.
"I believe the lady refused your rather indecent proposal," a voice sounded behind her.
The seller looked up and instantly released her arm, quickly pulling away as if she had stung him. His crooked smile was gone, eyes wide, looking genuinely afraid. Belle turned to look upon her saviour.
She was met by friendly blue eyes and tousled brown hair. His rosy lips were framed by a neatly trimmed beard, and he wore an animal fur shawl around his shoulders. She noticed he wore a wolf-shaped pendant around his neck. His muscular and sturdy frame stood a few inches taller than her, and he laid a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her away from the stall.
He stared intently at the seller, wearing a mask of bravery and fearlessness. Even though the seller was clearly stronger than him, he didn't seem intimidated. He must be crazy. The seller could easily overpower them both without much effort. Then Belle noticed the arrows the stranger had slung across his back, and instantly felt a little safer.
"Huntsman, I… I," the seller stuttered. Was this the same man who had practically forced himself on her only moments ago? She then saw him for what he really was: a coward, a bully.
"Here." The Huntsman thrust some coins into the seller's large hands and snatched the straw from him, placing it in Belle's basket. "Keep the change," he said before gently taking Belle's arm.
He didn't drag her away, forcing her to run to keep up with him. He simply led them casually out of the marketplace, having let go of her arm and instead hooked his arm through hers, escorting her with dignity, his chin held high.
They stopped at the entrance to the market.
"Thank you for that," she said, looking up at him.
He smiled, his blue eyes gazing softly at her. "Anytime, my lady. He really needs to learn to keep his hands to himself." He spoke with a slight accent.
"Good thing we have chivalrous men like you to keep him in line," she joked.
"I wouldn't exactly call myself 'chivalrous'…" he said wistfully, his smile fading and his brows furrowing.
Belle spoke in an attempt to fill the awkward silence. "Let me pay you back," she offered, searching her cloak for something she could offer in return for his kindness.
He raised his hand to stop her. "It's no need, my lady. Really. I must be on my way." He gestured to the long road behind him, a road that led to the darker parts of the surrounding forest, where the wolves had their territories.
"Oh, well thank you again, Mr…" she trailed off.
"Humbert," he replied. "Just call me Humbert. Take care, my lady."
She smiled and bid him farewell before heading in the opposite direction.
She entered the woods, basket in hand, its contents a symbol of a stranger's kindness. She wasn't sure where she was going. If she walked fast enough she could maybe make it to another town and spend the night there, before continuing her journey home. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to go home. Where was her home anyway? Where did she belong?
It was with these doubtful thoughts that she followed the road through the woods aimlessly, watching her feet as they took one step at a time in an unknown direction. Maybe if she walked long enough, the answers to her uncertainties would show themselves.
The sounds of birds chirping and rustling branches were interrupted by the sound of hooves approaching from the distance. She turned to see a herd of black horses with shiny coats and fancy saddles, pull a black, gothic-styled carriage. Men dressed in all black armour rode on two horses behind the carriage, as well as one who sat on the perch of the carriage.
Belle scampered to the side of the road, letting them pass. She stopped to watch as the carriage rode past, but was surprised when it stopped in front of her. The door swung open, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman.
She too was dressed in all black, matching her entourage. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in an up-do, exposing her heavily painted face. Her dark eyes and red lips gave her a striking appearance, and she seemed to radiate power.
"I hope my carriage didn't splash you," she said, her red lips stretching into a sweet smile, exposing her pearly white teeth.
"Oh, no," Belle replied, turning to continue her walk.
"Actually," she heard from behind her, forcing her to stop. "I'm tired of sitting. Would you mind if I walked with you for a spell?" the woman asked, already manoeuvring herself and her dress out of the carriage. Feeling unable to refuse, Belle silently agreed and waited for the woman to join her.
They walked slowly, the woman's carriage and horses trailing a few yards behind them. The woman held a black umbrella over her head, probably afraid of possible rain ruining her hair.
"So where are you headed?" the woman asked, her eyes watching the trees as they walked.
"I'm not sure, exactly," Belle replied, not wishing to lie.
"Well, in my experience, the only time a woman doesn't know where she is going, is when she is running from someone," the woman stated, her tone humorous.
She was very observant, and Belle wasn't sure how to reply. So she simply said nothing. The only thing breaking the quiet sounds of the forest was the sound of the woman's long, black trail grazing against the gravel beneath their feet.
"So, master or lover?" the woman pressed.
This conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn. Rum was more than her master. He was her friend. She cared about him, but was that enough to be classified as lover?
She opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't find the words. Belle didn't quite know how describe them. So she didn't try. The woman took this for an answer and smiled knowingly.
"Oh. Master and lover."
Belle didn't feel comfortable in this woman's presence. It felt like she knew more than she let on, like she had a hidden agenda.
"I think I'm going to take a rest," Belle lied, wishing to rid herself of this sudden discomfort. "You go on ahead."
The woman ignored her attempt at brushing her off and merely put her arm around Belle's shoulder, urging them to continue their conversation.
"So you ran away from your master, and now you have nowhere to go," the woman stated, her fingers squeezing Belle's shoulder.
"I didn't run away," Belle corrected. "He let me go." She hadn't left at her own accord. If Rum hadn't prompted her to leave, she doubted she ever would have. If Rum hadn't let her go, she would have spent her remaining days in The Dark Castle. This she was sure of.
"He let you go?" the woman asked incredulously. "Why?"
"He didn't want me there." Her voice sounded so sad to her own ears. Was she really as heartbroken as she sounded? Feeling obligated to explain, Belle elaborated. "He didn't trust himself around me." She sighed. "Something evil has taken root in him, and he doesn't think he can overcome it."
"Sounds like a curse to me," the woman said.
It was a curse, Rum had said so himself. But Belle hadn't the faintest idea of how to break curses. She didn't know how magic worked, only that it was powerful. And powerful magic, like a curse, needed something even more powerful to break it.
"And you know how curses are broken?" the woman asked rhetorically.
An intrigued Belle could only shake her head.
The woman stopped walking and glanced back at her entourage, as if checking that they weren't listening. The woman leaned closer before speaking, her voice taking on a hushed tone. "A kiss of true love should do it."
A kiss? Was that all it took? Was true love really powerful enough to break a dark curse? Belle could hardly contain her giddiness at how simple the solution was. A kiss was a small price to pay if she could save Rum from darkness.
"One kiss? And he'll be a man again? He'll be safe?"
The woman smiled broadly. "An ordinary man."
"But how does one know if it's true love?" Belle asked. To her, true love seemed rare and beautiful, something that occurred more often in the pages of books than in the mess they called 'real life'.
"You'll have to try and find out," the woman said nonchalantly. "If he doesn't love you, the kiss won't work. But I trust you love him?"
Love him? She wasn't sure if it was love she felt. Maybe her not wishing to leave him, and him wanting to protect her was proof that they loved each other. Either way, it was worth a try.
"I guess I'll have to try and find out," Belle quoted coyly, a mischievous smile spreading across her beautiful face.
The woman laughed. "I presume you know what to do, then." The woman smiled deviously, her dark eyes dancing with excitement. "Thank you for the walk," she said politely before leaving to return to her carriage.
"Good luck!" she called over her shoulder as she climbed elegantly into her dark carriage. Belle watched as they drove past and waited until they were out of sight before continuing her walk.
Her steps suddenly felt lighter and all doubt that had harboured her thoughts had disappeared, being replaced with renewed determination. Since when did she flee when faced with a challenge? This was her chance to save the man she possibly loved. And all it took was a kiss!
She swung her basket cheerfully as she followed the gravelled path through the woods. She now knew exactly where she was going.
She entered her chambers, walking with her chin held high, her hips swaying slightly with every step she took. She owned this place, and everyone in it.
This room was theirs, where they met when she summoned him. Its silvery-grey walls and domed ceiling had absorbed her cries of pleasure whilst in his company many times before. The stone fireplace had kept their naked bodies warm, and the many candles had illuminated their skin. On one of walls hung a mirror, her gateway to the rest of the world, to the lives of her allies and enemies.
He sat on the velvet lounger in front of the fireplace, his back turned to her as he watched the dancing flames. She pulled at the knot that held her long trail to her black dress, and let it fall to the floor in a dark puddle.
She laid her hands on his shoulders, grazing her fingers through his bearskin shawl. "Did it work?" she whispered in his ear, her tongue tickling the shell of his ear. She felt him tense beneath her hands.
"I saved her from a seller lacking in manners. I presume she trusts me," he replied, his voice catching as she nibbled his earlobe.
"Good," she said, her voice husky.
She pulled the shawl from his shoulders and flung it to the floor. She kissed his neck and dipped her hands under his shirt, trailing her fingers across his chest.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, trying not to let himself get distracted by her touch.
Her fingers stilled. "Because." Her voice was suddenly firm and cold. She grabbed his chin and turned his face to face her. "She is the key to that imp's downfall." She kissed him, capturing his lower lip between her teeth and sucking. "And with Rumpelstiltskin gone, who's to stop me getting everything I want?"
She ran her hands through his hair. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts, Huntsman?"
Before he could respond she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled, tilting his head up to look at her when he avoided her gaze.
"I own you, remember?" She leaned in till their lips almost touched. "Your heart is mine," she whispered against his lips.
He wasn't fazed by her sudden mood swings, but his eyes revealed how frightened he truly was in her presence. Those who didn't fear The Queen were morons.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said. He had learned the hard way that that was the Queen's preferred response.
She smirked at the sound of her title on his lips. She pulled back and reached back to unzip her dress. She released her hair from its up-do and let it cascade around her shoulders. Her dress pooled at her feet and she leisurely stepped out of it and settled on his lap, straddling him. She wore a black corset brassiere with trimmed lace and matching panties. She really was a breath-taking sight. It was what was underneath that truly scared him.
She kissed him deeply before removing his shirt, revelling in the sight of his bare chest. His wooden wolf pendant rested between his breasts. She twirled the chain around her fingers and pulled it towards her, his body following suit, pressing flush against hers.
"Tell me. Who do you belong to?" she asked, knowing his answer before he spoke.
"You," he answered without hesitation. He had been asked that question before, and he didn't dare give the wrong answer.
Satisfied with his rehearsed response she captured his mouth once more, grinding her hips against his, letting her body succumb to primal lust.
He responded by letting his arms encircle her waist, his tongue fighting for dominance. It was all part of the game. In the end she always won.
She undid the buttons of his breeches and teased him with her skilled fingers. He was ready for her. He had to be ready for her. It was demanded of him, required. How he had ended up as the Queen's playmate he couldn't remember, but he hoped it was for a greater cause than her mere satisfaction.
That was what he tried to convince himself of whilst the Queen pulled her panties to one side, gently guiding him to enter her. She sighed and welcomed the well-known feeling of him inside her.
She didn't wait long before she expertly rolled her hips, grasping his shoulders for support, guiding him to lean back against the lounger. She wanted full control, so he let her have it.
He merely held her hips while she rode him, moaning his name as pleasure danced through her body. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine someone he loved sharing his pleasure, someone worth fighting for. It wasn't her name he called out those times he too reached a state of ecstasy, and he never intended to do so.
Her movements became erratic as she reached her peak. Her fingernails left red trails of desire across his shoulders as she rode out her orgasm, before collapsing on to his chest. He was left unsatisfied.
When she had caught her breath, and her body had relaxed from its state of euphoria, she climbed off him, leaving him feeling misused and worthless. He was just her toy. He knew this. Yet it hurt to be reminded of it.
She bent to pick up her clothing, and quickly checked her reflection in the mirror, rearranging her dark locks.
"Until next time, my Huntsman." She bent to kiss one of the burning scratches on his shoulders before leaving, a symbol of what he was; a piece of meat.
