Summary: Rumpelstiltskin procures a peculiar pack of arrows from a girl in the Northlands; Belle is curious and accidentally stabs herself with one. Chaos ensues.
What's to say about this little diddy? Even I don't know.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything!
Stupid Cupid
Hey, go play Robin Hood with somebody else's heart. –Mandy Moore, "Stupid Cupid"
The arrows really were quite lovely, Rumpelstiltskin conceded as he clomped back into the Main Hall of the Dark Castle. They were made of the strong, sturdy bone of some animal with a name he couldn't pronounce, tipped with pink feathers. The tips were the same pale pink as the feathers, shaped like hearts on one tip of the ivory. He could feel the strong, pure, good magic radiating off of them, and it made him shiver both in disgust and appreciation.
It wasn't a permanent transaction, that the Dark One knew—simply a temporary trade, enchanted arrows for a bewitched ring. He'd get his ring back eventually, and likewise, the arrows would be returned to their rightful owner—a girl swathed in pink that'd been travelling along the shores of a beach, somewhere high up north, barely on the border of the lands where the Snow Palace lay. Why the airheaded Cupid had been in such a lonely place, he didn't know.
But the transaction had been made, and Rum couldn't say he wasn't satisfied. The arrows would come in handy if she never came back to claim them. He hung the satchel on one of the hooks in the Main Hall, the arrows gleaming in the dim candlelight. They were absolutely stunning—even he couldn't deny that. The gossamer pearl-pink feathers shone ethereally, flashing different colors when they hit the light a certain way.
"What's that?"
Belle's voice broke him out of the trance the arrows had enticed. He almost jumped, turning his head to face her. A grin split his face when he saw the lightly glazed look in his caretaker's eyes.
"They're beautiful," she breathed, taking a few steps forward, eyeing them appreciatively.
"Don't get too attached to them, dearie," he twittered, "I'm merely holding them for a friend. They've sort of been… pawned, for a few days."
Belle blinked, and something like disappointment flashed in her eyes. "Oh. Alright, then." She lifted her feather duster. "I'll just get back to work. Tea in an hour?" She looked to him for confirmation.
"Sounds wonderful, dearie," he replied cheerily, more than a little curious at how… un-Belle-like she was being. Her eyes were glued to the satchel. He frowned a bit.
It looked like dark magic wasn't the only kind of magic that could bewitch.
Belle couldn't tear her eyes away from the red velvet satchel. The arrows inside gleamed with something beautiful, something that had her feeling sleepy and warm. Maybe a bewitchment, the suspicious voice of her nursemaid said in her head, but she shook it away. Whatever it was, it wasn't sinister. Quite the contrary.
Whatever radiated off the arrows made her feel… warm. And comfortable. And distinctly safe. She knew it was silly, just whatever enchantment that was on them that made her feel this way, but it was true. And real.
And she wanted to touch them.
Just to feel the soft, silky gossamer of the feathers beneath her fingertips—or the smooth ivory of the bone-wrought shaft. Or maybe the strange, blunted tip. And before Belle knew what she was doing, she was moving forward, her hand looming over one of the arrows. She thought she smelled Rumpelstiltskin, the nearer she drew—his odd, strange scent of magic and the woods.
She turned her head.
He wasn't there.
How odd… she mused, reaching back out, the call of the enchantment too powerful to resist—
"Ow!"
And nicked herself. A small droplet of blood pooled on her fingertip and she hissed, bringing it up to her lips.
She could still smell him, lingering in the air.
Rumpelstiltskin entered the Main Hall exactly half an hour later, for tea.
When he saw no sign of Belle, however, he frowned.
"Belle?" he called; nothing. Silence met his ears. No telltale creak of the floorboards, no humming, nothing. Just the silence that reminded him of the dark and dreary days before she'd come to stay. He shivered at the echo of a memory, before moving through the hall. "Belle?" he called again.
And this time, he was met with something.
"Rumpelstiltskin!" her laughing voice echoed behind him, before two arms wrapped around his neck and she hoisted herself up onto his back. He oomphed and barely had time to react, catching her behind the thighs before she could fall back down.
"B-Belle?" What was going on? Had she gotten into his liquor stash? Or perhaps a potion of some kind that'd made her loopy? Whatever it was, it was making her giggle like a madwoman, her grip around his neck nearly suffocating.
"Hi, you." And to his infinite surprise, she kissed his cheek.
She kissed his cheek.
"B-Belle, what's going on?" he hated the stutter in his voice; hated it with a burning passion. But he couldn't help it as he craned his neck to stare at her—at that goofy, stupid smile, those glazed eyes, those parted lips, coming so close to him—
He yelped and dropped her. She landed with catlike grace on the hardwood floor, her smile morphing into a pout. "That's not very nice," she simpered, taking a step forward.
He responded by taking a step back.
Belle giggled. "Oh, my. The big, bad Dark One? Scared of little ol' me?"
"Belle," he said again, his voice gaining back some of its authority. "What the hell are you doing?"
She giggled again and shrugged. She was acting so bizarre. "Oh, nothing, my master." He didn't like the way she said the word "master". She dragged it out until the word lost its real meaning, suggesting something that would've made him blush if he were completely human. "At least," she whispered, drawing him out of his musings, "Nothing I shouldn't have started doing a long time ago."
She lunged forward again.
He scrambled backwards with all the grace of a newborn foal, his back slamming against the grand table. He gulped. He was by no means trapped, per say, but he felt his heartbeat skip into overtime as she neared him. "Belle—"
She didn't seem to hear him. She just kept coming closer, her footfalls graceful and dainty, her smile mischievous, her eyes… her eyes.
He couldn't tell what was behind her eyes, but whatever it was, it made his heart skip a few beats. He pushed the notion away and kept his gaze focused solely on her. No… no. She'd nicked herself with an arrow, but no magic, not even a Cupid's, could replicate love. The arrows only magnified what love the person had already been feeling. If there was no love, it turned to lust. This was lust, whatever it was. A suggestion, an obsession, come from the magical serum that came from the pale pink-and-white weapons.
Her lips brushed his, and he felt his body turn to jelly. He hadn't felt this way in a long time, and her lips were nearly on his…
His eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a sharp breath, jerking backwards just when her lips were about to meet his. He snapped his fingers together.
And Belle fell, limp in his arms, her head lolling to one side.
Cupid—Cooper, as some humans knew her—transported herself right outside the Dark Castle and wrinkled her nose in slight distaste. The estate was beautiful, but it reeked of dark magic, and her highly sensitive nerves had picked up on it miles away.
She fingered the enchanted ring the Dark One had bartered in her hand and entered the castle, uninvited. It wasn't as if Rumpelstiltskin could kill her—he wasn't stupid. Killing a Cupid meant killing Love.
And if you killed Love, why would anyone want to live?
Coop raked a hand through her light brown tendrils of hair, her bright hazel eyes sweeping across the Main Hall as she skipped inside. The place was reminiscent of a magpie's nest, baubles and objects of every kind lying around. She was so absorbed in scrutinizing the copious amounts of paraphernalia; she probably wouldn't have noticed the two figures standing in the middle of the room if her name hadn't been called.
"Coop!" Rumpelstiltskin hissed, heaving the limp body of a girl up into one of the armchairs with ease. "What the hell are you doing back here? I thought you needed the ring for a few days."
"I did," Coop said, still eyeing the scene before her with barely-concealed amusement. She set the ring down on the dining room table and turned her attention to the girl, who was currently out cold. "But that was when I thought finding that princess and the caravan of fellows who kidnapped her would be difficult. I found them within ten minutes; stopped them within twenty, reunited her and her lover within six. In all, it was a productive day. I didn't much need your… ahem, tracking services, after all." She gestured to the ruby colored gem.
"Well that's all well and good," the Dark One snapped, "We've solved your riddle; can we please solve mine, now? The girl got a hold of your arrows, pricked herself on one, and tried to jump me. What do I do?"
Cooper raised an eyebrow at the sorcerer before turning her attention to his caretaker—she was a pretty, petite thing, with russet-colored curls and a heart of pure… well, gold couldn't even begin to describe it. The Cupid nearly awwwwed at the amount of innocence that wafted from her. Even living here, in the midst of all the disturbing truths and the dark magic and the spellbinding secrets, she was untouched. Uncorrupted. Good.
Loving.
She was in love. Even though she was unconscious, Coop could tell. Her arrows wouldn't have worked otherwise. Oh, sure, they could cause lust. But only if the person who'd been pricked by the arrow tip wanted it, some deep part of themselves. This girl, it seemed, barely knew anything about coupling, other than it was something a husband and a wife did.
No, she was far too innocent to think something like that.
"Aren't you going to say something?" Rumpelstiltskin snapped. Cooper startled, drawing out of the girl's mind to lift her eyes up to meet his. He was eyeing her impatiently, his trademark scowl evident. "Can you fix it?"
"Already fixed," Cooper said, giving a slow shrug. "Let her sleep it off. When she wakes up in a couple of hours, the spell should have worn off. It was just a prick, right? She didn't… stab herself, or anything?" When he shook his head, she nodded. "Yeah, it's not permanent. If it was just a cut, the magic that was suggesting her should disappear."
The Dark One relaxed. "That's good. The last thing I need is for my caretaker trying to play seductress while I'm working."
Coop eyed Rumpelstiltskin curiously. She'd been doing her job for a very long time, suggesting people to fall in love when their names appeared on her List. But for all the years this Dark One had been alive, as a human or an imp, his name had never been on her list of charges. Not even during his marriage with Milah. But she had a feeling—a very strong feeling, in fact—that when she looked at the scroll of parchment she kept hidden at her palace between the bubbles of sea-foam, his name would be there.
And so would Belle's.
"You don't honestly think all that was just lust, do you, Rumple?" Cooper asked.
Rumpelstiltskin eyed her. "What else would it be?"
"Love, maybe?"
He snorted; actually snorted, and Cooper felt her heart chip just a little. How awful was his life, that even the possibility of love was so hopeless, so foreign? "Nobody loves a monster, Cupid."
Coop was silent. She couldn't deny that. Monsters didn't know good or evil; they just knew primal desires, and the carnal need to survive. Love was a trivial, human matter that they didn't bother themselves with. But Rumpelstiltskin was in love, was he not?
So, therefore, he could not be a monster.
"What about men, dressed as monsters?" she asked aloud, more to herself than to the imp in front of her. Rumpelstiltskin's eyes shot up in shock, and then he grinned; it was impish and silly and distinctly him, but there was something sad lying beyond the depths of his yellow, pitted smile.
"Goodbye, Cupid."
Cooper smiled, and took her satchel from where they lay by the china cabinet. "Fine. Dismiss me. You can't run from fate forever. Fare thee well, Rumpelstiltskin." And she turned to go, but not before seeing his smile fade into something a little more thoughtful, his eyes turning to stare at the girl on the armchair. Cupid had to bite her lip to keep from giggling with mirth.
Oh yes, she'd be visiting the Dark Castle soon, very soon. Its inhabitants just wouldn't know it yet.
A/N: Yeah, I know, Cupid isn't a fairytale. But I wanted to try this idea out; it seemed like fun. And it was partially-angsty, partially humorous, and it let me toy around with their pre-Belle-gets-thrown-out-of-the-Dark-Castle feelings. I know there isn't much Belle in this one, but it was more about their relationship from an outside POV, and Rum's "monster complex", I guess. Mostly, it was just a random thingy I came up with when I was bored. So yeah. This Cupid was crafted from a lot of things; Coop from the TV show "Charmed", where I got her name, "Christmas Cupid" where the only thing I really did was make her a female, and the story of Aphrodite/Venus. Aphrodite was said to have been born from sea foam; Coop's palace is in sea foam. Don't ask me how that works; it's FTL, anything is possible.
