A/N: Tiny warning, bit of blood/gore(?) in this chapter, nothing overly graphic but some talk of bad things.
~8~
Acceptance
Rumpelstiltskin stood in his dungeons, well, really they weren't quite dungeons, more like side rooms that he could keep prisoners and people that tried to double cross him in. There was someone in there now, a rather miserable little wretch that had dared tried to trick him with a deal, claiming there was a loophole in it that exempted him from having to fulfill his end of the deal while he himself had given the man the thing he desired most. The boy was, unfortunately, one straw short of a hay bale and therefore had completely missed the wording of the deal and, as a result, his life was now forfeit. Well, actually it wasn't his life. The boy had promised to repay him pound for pound of what he'd provided the man in something of value at the end of the deal. But the boy had defaulted and it was well within his right to claim his restitution.
He'd chosen skin.
The boy was a vain individual, he could do with missing some chunks of his face and arms and legs and torso, he would heal it, of course, after it was over, but he'd make sure that it healed with the horrendous scars that wouldn't be easily healed to erasure by others with magic. No, he wanted to make a public spectacle so all would see what happened when they double crossed Rumpelstiltskin. This was the only way to keep the respect and fear that people held for him. If he let the man go, he'd end up a laughing stock, people would think that he'd gone soft, they'd try to double cross him in the future and he couldn't have that, not at all.
No, when people broke a deal they had to pay.
He closed his eyes a moment, he knew that better than anyone what came with breaking a deal. He'd broken one in his life, the worst one he could have ever broken, and he'd done it…to his own son, and he'd been lost because of it. He'd lost his son to another world all because he'd been a coward. He'd been a coward all his life, he'd turned to magic for strength and power and courage and…when it came down to it he was still a coward because he couldn't give up that power, he couldn't let it go. And he'd lost his son for it. No, when people broke deals they needed to know there were consequences. There were consequences for everything in life, this was but one of many.
He stopped suddenly and spun around when he heard a door open behind him, quickly moving to face the person in the doorway, moving his arm behind his back where his bloody dagger was now hidden. He honestly didn't know why he'd done it, why he'd hidden it. He shouldn't care, he shouldn't care one way or the other if someone happened to walk in on him in the middle of seeing that a deal was followed in the future. He shouldn't care if he scarred whoever it was that had entered, he shouldn't even stop really…it could give his prisoner ideas about the person he'd stopped for though he highly doubted that the man in question was conscious enough to realize what was happening beyond the fact that there was a brief respite from the pain.
He knew what it might have been, the last time someone had walked in on him had been Belle as he'd been cutting off the toes of someone who had drunkenly tried to kick him once. She'd screamed and screamed and it was so bloody annoying that he'd ended up stabbing the man in the foot so that he could turn and shove the girl out of the room. He hadn't heard the end of it for ages after that and it had ground against his last nerve to hear her going on and on and on about it. He'd had to threaten to cut out her tongue to get her to stop, but since then it had been an almost automatic reaction to try and hide what he was doing from whoever entered. He supposed, somewhere in the back of his mind, he kept thinking that it was Belle that would be stepping into the room.
Piper had only been with him a month so far. She'd conducted two other deals outside their own deal with other towns, and it appeared she was just returning from the second one now and had come to alert him to the fact that she was back. He'd set her into the wards around his castle. They never kept people out, what if desperate folk came to beg for deals? But they DID alert him to who was there and he'd known the moment she'd stepped past his gates that she'd returned. He'd told her that after the first time she'd come from a deal yet she seemed insistent to let him know that she was back. It was quite refreshing though, to him it made him feel like she respected him enough to come seek him out and let him know she was back within his home.
"What?" he demanded quickly, seeing her standing there in her old worn brown cloak, the clasp fixed, her pipe sticking out of her boot, "What is it?"
She tilted her head as she eyed him, her gaze flicking to his chest, then to the man groaning behind him (he was rather slim so it wasn't like his own body could hide much), and back to him. He glanced down to see that his chest was splattered with blood so there was really no need to hide the knife he'd been using and let his arms fall.
"Have you come to tell me something other than the fact that you have returned?" he asked, his voice taking on an impatient note.
She eyed him once more, "Yes," she responded, "That knife is too sharp, use one with teeth if you wish to inflict greater pain."
He blinked and in that moment of blinking, she had shut the door and merely walked off.
He stood there for quite a few more minutes, just staring at the door. He wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to return or if he was waiting to hear a scream or if he just wasn't sure if she had really just stood there and seen a man cut open and bleeding before her as though it were nothing and just wandered off. She'd just wandered off! No screaming, no gaping in horror, no tears in her eyes, just a casual curiosity and than an indifference with…what was actually sound advice.
He lifted his hand and looked at the sharp knife in it, the edges were sharp, smooth…but now that he thought about it, a knife with more jagged edges or 'teeth' would make for a much more entertaining time.
~8~
Rumpelstiltskin stood in his main room, watching as Piper sat as she always did, in the chair at the end, her feet up, her cloak draped on the back of the chair in question. She had a small pile of candlestick holders in her lap and was polishing them with a small cloth, hardly seeming perturbed about what she'd walked in on only moments ago. He stood there a few more minutes, just observing her, trying to see if there was anything, any sign that she was hiding how she really felt about it all, that she was disturbed or angry or disgusted with him and what she'd seen. He had a very good idea that she truly wasn't affected by it at all, no woman in their right mind that was alarmed by what they'd seen would have recommended another knife to use. But she was perfectly calm, sitting there, polishing away. Her hands were steady, her motions mesmerizing to him, her focus entirely on the task at hand. There were no tears in her eyes, she wasn't any more pale than she always was, her lips weren't trembling. She seemed entirely calm.
"If you are going to stare at me," she spoke, "You may wish to do so at a closer distance. You would not be able to detect the slighter nuances of my face and mannerisms from over there."
He smirked at that and made his way over to her, hopping onto the table and turning to face her, crossing his legs as he did so, moving his elbows to his knees and resting his chin on his joined hands. Piper didn't even bother to move her legs, just kept them where they were so that the ends brushed against his knee, and he didn't make her move it either though there was a small war going off inside his head about it. It was his home, but she was his guest of sorts, it was his table, but she'd been sitting there first, but when HE sat down she should have moved, but he could have sat on the chair just as close or bothered her by touching her shoulders (he knew that tended to upset many women and men he spoke to, physical contact and all). He shook himself out of his thoughts though, there wasn't really any point, her feet up on his table didn't bother him, she cleaned the table after all, and her legs so close to his own weren't irritating him either, so what was the harm?
He tilted his head to eye her more closely, but it was just as he'd seen from across the room, she didn't care one way or the other that he'd just sliced up a man a few hours ago. He'd sent the man off, his missing flesh now healed but scarred terribly, and been cleaning up his knives before he entered the room. His clothes still had blood on them and yet she hardly spared the red splatters a glance.
"I would like to request," she began and he wasn't sure if he was smiling because he thought he'd finally gotten her to speak of something disturbing about what he'd done or because he was curious to see what she'd say (as he somehow doubted she'd request he stop slicing people like that), "That you please wear an apron or some other covering before engaging in such activities."
He blinked…that was NOT what he was expecting, "I beg your pardon dearie?"
She looked up at him, "Blood is a nightmare to remove from white cloth," she nodded at his sleeves, splattered with the red dried substance, "I should hardly like to have to go to you each and every time I require assistance with its removal via magical means. It would be simpler to cover up the cloth before it is exposed to it in the future."
"I could just wear nothing at all then," he tried a crude suggestion.
"Whichever you prefer," she waved it off, getting back to polishing.
He couldn't help but giggle at that, while most women would blush scarlet at the crudeness and imagery of it, Piper just went on as though it were everyday business…though he DID see the faintest of pink on her cheeks. He liked that about her, that he could quip with her and banter and he could shook her something and she responded instantly.
"I find it odd that you would request that than to request I refrain from partaking in such activities as a whole," he commented.
"I find it odd that you think I would get involved in your own personal deals when you have stayed out of mine," she fired back, sending him a momentary smirk before focusing on her polishing again, "I inquired, as part of our deals, that I be allowed freedom to see my own deals through, it would be unwise and unfair of me to tell you who to make your own deals when you have not a say in mine."
He nodded, considering that logic for a moment, "You truly cared not for what was happening in there? What I was doing?"
"If that is the way you deal with those who break a deal, who am I to tell you to do otherwise?" she countered, "I have demanded similar things in the past when my own deals have been broken."
He nodded at that, it was true, Hamelin came to the forefront of his mind at that, but still he felt he had to ask her, "You truly would not ask me to stop?" he looked at her, "Belle would have," Belle did.
"I am not Belle," she remarked simply, "I care not for how you express your rage at others trying to break a promise. You do as you wish, how you wish, and in whatever way you wish…so long as you keep the blood off your clothes," she smirked.
He giggled at that, "You are an odd woman."
"In what way?"
"You just walked in on me skinning a man alive and told me to use a different knife," he repeated as though it should be obvious how utterly odd that was, "The last time Belle saw me doing something of the sort she went on a rant and a preach about how it was cruel and unjust and evil and how there were other ways to ensure people uphold a deal," he rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar irritation at Belle rising in him again.
"I was correct in my assumption then."
"What assumption?" he blinked, startled.
"The former caretaker merely loved the idea of you," she set the candlestick holder down and moved to the next one, "She wanted to 'reform' you and 'save' you from the darkness inside you."
"And you don't?"
"I have no desire to change you," she shook her head easily, "As it stands, you being who and what you are may be the only thing keeping me alive."
He looked at her intently, sensing it was FAR more than just that to her. She truly didn't care what he was like or how he acted. She'd proven it in how easily she'd accepted and even expected him to be serious about skinning children and commented on how she could stretch the skins into parchment or sew them into purses. She'd been utterly serious and hadn't even balked at his comments on it. Even now she hadn't told him to stop acting how he had been but to take more care with his clothing.
"I know what it is like to be changed," she added, slightly more quietly, "Sometimes against your will, other times to change yourself due to situations. It should ONLY ever be because YOU wish to change and not because others want to see you one way or another."
He nodded at that, thinking of Belle, how she kept trying to guilt him into talking or trick him, how she'd do things without his permission and the later try to put up a front and argue with him that it was better. Even right at the end she'd only kissed him to break his curse, to get the man she believed to be inside him out. She hadn't wanted him, Rumpelstiltskin the Dark One, she'd wanted Rumpelstiltskin the Hobble-Foot. And that wasn't the man he was anymore.
"I chose to change," he murmured, "I chose to become the Dark One, to become this."
"Then why should I change what makes you happy?" she remarked, glancing at him, "You are the Dark One, you are dark, you have darkness inside you. I do as well. I should not change in you that which I would not change in me."
"I would not have you change either," he admitted.
"Oh?" she returned her attention to the candlestick holder.
"Indeed," he smirked, "Most women would have screamed bloody murder at what they saw me doing."
"That would be rather redundant."
He giggled even more at that, "It was quite bloody, but by no means murder."
"Oh I am aware."
"Were you now?"
She hummed, nodding her head slowly in response, "If it had been murder, he would have screamed less."
"Perhaps I just hadn't gotten to the actual deed yet."
"Then it would be torture, not murder," she reasoned, "Torture seems to be less gratifying when the victim cannot be made to scream."
His smile started to fade slightly at that. Her words were hollow, they were as uncaring and flippant as they always were which usually intrigued him deeply to hear a woman, clearly of some sort of proper upbringing, speaking so nonchalantly about half the things they talked about, but this, he could tell was different. The hollowness had a different tone to it, it sounded more forced than indifferent. He got the vague sensation that…she had some sort of experience with it to know that with such certainty.
"I shall take your request on one condition," he began, eyeing her closely.
"And what would that be?"
"You fulfill a request of my own."
"Which is?"
"An answer to a question."
"And the question?"
"Pray tell, dearie," he eyed her, "How did you know the second knife would be best?"
Piper stopped her motions for only a moment before she let out a breath and turned to place the candlestick holder onto the floor beside the chair. She turned to look at him, before leaning towards him. He didn't move…no, that wasn't right, he…couldn't move. He'd tried to move, but her eyes, they were locked on his own, the forest green eyes getting closer and closer to him, and he felt himself inhale but refuse to exhale. He could feel an odd tingling in his body, like it was humming, like it was starting to buzz with some sort of odd warmth and energy that was wholly unfamiliar to him. If he hadn't known any better he would have thought she'd used her magic on him, used some sort of spell to keep him in place, but she hadn't even uttered a single note of her music, she was just…getting closer and he couldn't, for the life of him, get himself to pull away from her. He just stared into her eyes as her face grew closer and closer, his eyes flickering down to her lips for the briefest of moments, before her gaze turned to the side.
He found his head turning with her gaze, her own head leaning to the side as she focused on the leg of her pants. He watched, his eyes widening slightly as she tugged her left pant leg out of her boots and folded it up her legs till she could turn it slightly and reveal something that actually made HIM frown…something that actually made a small ball of rage form in his chest despite the hell he'd just unleashed on another man of a similar quality to what he was seeing before him. There were scars on her thigh, different scars. Some were lines, others were jagged, there were ones that seemed to have scarred harder than others, some that were fainter, some a dark pink others light, it was like a mishmash of them. And he noticed that wasn't the only scar on her leg. There were some others, fewer and more far between scattered down the whole of her leg, nicks here, small circular ones in other areas like a poker had been used, but his eyes drifted back to the deeper ones on her thigh.
"I have experience with how knives can be used to cut flesh," she said simply.
He reached out and touched her scars, tracing them. He knew it was wrong, it was entirely inappropriate for any man to touch a woman like this, to touch her thigh, to run his fingers along it, especially to run his fingers along her scars, but he couldn't stop himself. It was almost like he could feel the pain in them, feel the torment that went into making them, feel the hatred and bitterness and agony that resided in them.
"And how did you come about this experience?" he asked, his gaze still fixed on the lines marring her white flesh.
"I DID mention the Queen was after me, yes?" she gave him a look for his question.
"The Queen's men are brutes, yes," he agreed, "But they would not do something like this. She is more for swift executions than torturing her captives. And if she is as keen to find you as you fear, she would wish you brought to her immediately, not long enough for these to be made."
"Indeed," she agreed, "But I never said that it was the Queen's men who did this," she caught his gaze as he looked at her, realization dawning in his eyes.
She had been on the run for so long it was understandable that she'd run into other men, other less than desirable brutes that would do this to a young girl they believed to be helpless and unable to fight back.
"Now that is interesting," he murmured, "You nearly had Belle bleeding out her ears for slapping you…"
"And the men who did this are long since left for mad," Piper agreed, a small smirk on her face.
"How did they even come to make these?" he wondered, touching them lightly all over again, "These are different ages, this happened at different times. Why wait to kill them all for harming you?"
Piper blinked and looked at him, not speaking till his eyes caught hers and held it for a long moment. The way he'd spoken just then, he sounded like HE would have killed them for harming her. It had made her heart beat more quickly than she had experienced it beating in a long while. The sound of his voice, the threat in them, that if the men hadn't been dead already or taken care of HE would have hunted them down. It was odd, she shouldn't feel like she knew him well enough to read between the lines and hear the promises and threats in the words he said and the ones he left unspoken, but she could.
And the way he was looking at her, so intently, there was a spark of rage in his eyes, an anger that she'd been harmed. IT shouldn't have mattered to him that she'd been hurt as the scars were clearly older than their deal, but there it was. His jaw was tense, his back straight, his hand that wasn't tracing her leg clenched in a fist beside him. He seemed ready to leap off the table and go stalking through the doors and out into the night on a hunt for the men who dared lay a finger on her. She felt her breath catch in her throat at the intense look he was giving her so she cleared it.
"I had not reached that point yet," she said simply, "I was not always so…"
"Indifferent to the thought of taking a life?" he offered.
"Yes," she nodded, "I was not strong enough to do it. Even then," her gaze turned back to the scars, "I merely drove them past the brink of madness and did not kill them," she shook her head, "I grew stronger after that. I grew stronger in my songs, in learning how to control the will of others instead of just their emotions. I was able to make them stop."
He felt a shiver run down his spine at the venom and power in her words, "And no one harmed you again after that," he realized.
She nodded, "But that is how I know which knives inflict the most pain."
"You experienced it, and yet you tell ME of which to use on another," he mused, most who had experienced a hurt went to great lengths to avoid it happening in others.
"I could endure it," she shrugged, "If I can, so can they."
She was a hypocrite most likely, in some sense of the word. She had no qualms with inflicting the same pain others had on her onto others. She accepted the consequences, but unlike those who harmed her. She didn't use it against people that didn't deserve it. She wouldn't go up to a random person on the street and kill them with her song or torture them with her music like some had done to her with knives and belts and threats in her past. She had been on the run for a very long time before she'd reached Rumpelstiltskin, she had lived through her fair share of harms and hurts and pains. But she would wait till it was necessary to use her skills and not attack for no reason.
Rumpelstiltskin nodded at that, "You shall never be harmed again Piper," he swore to her, "I always see my deals through to the end."
"I am aware," she nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips, "But thank you."
He nodded again and they fell into an easy silence, still looking at each other a moment longer, before Piper seemed to realize she still had her leg exposed and moved to pull her pant leg back down. But Rumpelstiltskin grabbed her hand gently, stilling her motions. He reached out, his face the picture of concentration, as he traced the lines of her scars with his other hand, Piper watching with slightly wide eyes as the scars began to fade, a line of purple glowing where they had been before disappearing entirely, leaving her skin unblemished. She watched as he moved to do the same to lower down her leg when she grabbed his hand to stop him.
"Some scars are worth bearing," she told him, "For the reminders they bring."
He nodded and pulled back, "Are there any others that you wouldn't need to see to remember?"
She smiled at his offer, "One other place," she nodded, "But I shall not tell you where."
"Oh?" he smirked, "Am I to guess?"
"No," she shook her head, "You are to wait. Perhaps one day you will see it."
He considered that a moment before nodding in acceptance, watching as she tugged down her pant leg once more, tucking it into her boot, his face not moving from where it was, allowing him to catch the briefest whiff of the scent of her hair before she leaned back and picked up a candlestick holder once more, starting to resume her polishing, her legs still up beside him.
He could see it though now, in her expression, it had taken a lot for her to be able to bear her scars to him, and it meant even more to her that he had healed them, that he had wanted to. He didn't know why he'd felt the need to do it, but he'd done it, and what was done was done.
He shifted slightly on the table and reached out, making Piper pause when he grabbed the ends of her boots gently and turned her legs to rest on his lap. She looked at him and he just smirked, crossing his arms over her boots and gestured for her to continue working, him watching as she did so, a smile taking the place of the smirk as he saw a smile appear on her face as well.
A/N: Hope you liked this little look into the mutual 'darkness' they have :) Piper/Rose has had...quite a hard past, I can say that there'll be moments in it that shape who she is and bring out the Siren in her }:)
Just a warning, because this chapter is so late (sorry, I was attempting to get it up about 4 hours ago but our puppy was sick and I was the only one home :( ) tomorrow's chapter might be just a few hours delayed, but I'll try to not let it be :)
Some notes on reviews...
Oh we'll have quite the variety of moments to come ;) Let's just say the next chapter will see quite a shock for Snow in her beloved cousin }:)
I was torn about Belle too, I like her in Disney, but I wasn't much a fan of how pushy she was to have Gold be honest with her and change and be a better man. To me, she wanted him to be that, but she didn't accept him how he was. She wanted the good version of him and not all of him. She won't be a big roadblock to Dark Rose, but she'll be there at times :)
