Chapter Nine—They returned to the Dark Castle the same afternoon Sir Maurice reluctantly affixed his signature and seal to the marriage contract. Much though Rumplestiltskin might have preferred to not have to cross that distance using magic, he didn't want to spend any longer away from home, either, and there was no way he felt like conjuring up (or fetching) an enchanted carriage. He was so damn tired, and now his body was reminding him that he'd not been precisely young for a human when he'd killed Zoso. The curse had made him immortal and it kept him from aging, but the body that had been beaten and tortured by Regina's thugs had been fully human.

By the time they appeared in his castle's great hall, magic was the only thing keeping him on his feet. However, the fact that he had to tell it to do so was new; he still could use the power, but it no longer swam effortlessly through every bone and muscle every moment of every day. Before, as the Dark One, he had been magic. Now he simply had magic. It was going to take some getting used to, even if he did have an enormous amount of power at his disposal.

Part of him regretted the change. Despite his earlier thoughts, he could still hear the curse's whispers if he listened hard enough, ever so faintly, beckoning him into comfortable normality. Telling him that all he had to do was open himself, embrace the darkness, and then everything would be back to how it was supposed to be. Nothing would hurt, and no one could ever hurt him again. Isn't that what the spinner always wanted? To be powerful, to be safe?

"Rumplestiltskin?" Belle's voice jerked him out of the reverie, and his eyes snapped open. When had he shut them? He blinked, forcing the whispers aside.

Temptation was the price, then. He'd known that before, but it was somewhat comforting to experience it firsthand. And what a temptation it was.

"Right here," he answered, digging up a wan smile for her. Doing so was easier these days, but even the darkness had wanted Belle. Of course, the man and his curse had never agreed on exactly what they wanted to do with her, but in some ways they'd been in very close concert.

"You look lost." Her arm was still around his waist, and Belle pressed closer to him than was perhaps proper. But her presence was warm and so real, and kept him anchored. Kept him sane.

He let out a breath. "Without you, I would be lost."

"Well, then," she responded, looking up at Rumplestiltskin with a smile whose brilliance all but blinded him. "It's a good thing you convinced my father to sign that marriage contract, then."

"Well, yes." A flash of embarrassment heated his cheekbones, and he inwardly cursed the fact that he could visibly blushnow that the curse was broken. Of course, he would never have slapped that contract down in front of Maurice without Belle's connivance, but it was still…extraordinary. It had sort of been his idea and had sort of been hers; they had nearly arrived at the logical conclusion together, and yet the thought still made his mind whirl.

Rumplestiltskin suspected that a large part of him might never actually understand why Belle stayed with him. Yes, he knew of True Love's power and had seen it overcome all kinds of obstacles for other couples over the centuries. Yet he was still the same man who had done countless terrible things during his long, dark life. He would make no excuses about the curse's control over him; his actions had been his own. Even if the curse had encouraged him, driven him, he had always had a choice. A man like that did not deserve a woman like Belle. All logic decreed that she should never have been willing to bind herself to him like this…and yet she had.

Three signatures, one seal, and the deed was done. Legally speaking, the pair of them were married, even if there wasn't a cleric in the world who could be found to perform a ceremony. Nor one either of us would want, considering how this mess started.

"Stop that." She kissed him again, briefly, and that was something he could certainly get used to. It took all of his self-control not to cling to her like a drowning man clung to driftwood, to just collapse into her and let Belle tell him everything was going to be all right. He was so tired.

"I owe you a ring," he changed the subject as their foreheads touched, not wanting to talk about his stomach-churning fear and excitement, or about how terribly lost he actually didfeel right now.

Belle laughed softly. "I don't need a ring, Rumplestiltskin. Not while I have you."

"Ah, but what is the use of having a Lady of the Castle if I cannot shower you with jewels?" He pulled back to smile at her, shoving thoughts of tiredness and pain aside. The magic could support him for now, and watching her smile was a balm for all wounds.

"Is that what I am now?" she asked with a coy smile.

"You have been that for some time," he answered truthfully, and she kissed him again. Apparently Rumplestiltskin was not the only one who was reveling in the fact that they could kiss now; after so many months actively avoiding even the idea of a kiss, doing so was exhilarating. Belle's arms wrapped around his neck, one of her hands curling into his hair, and he found himself pulling her ever closer to him. Between kisses, his voice came out in half a growl. "Belle…"

"Yes?" There was no way she could sound that innocent by accident, was there? There was too much desire in her blue eyes for her to be unaware of the affect she was having on him, not with the way Belle pressed herself against him. His damnable leather pants were insanely tight.

"You don't…" Rumplestiltskin trailed off as she kissed him again, more insistently.

"We are married," she said with a soft, hopeful smile.

Fool though he might have been, even Rumplestiltskin could hear the invitation in her words. A part of him thought he should refuse her, because she so deserved better than him, even if this was True Love—but her right hand trailing down his chest made him abandon all pretensions at restraint. "So we are."

He kissed her fiercely, starting to wonder if he should whisk them to his room or hers. Desire banished any thoughts of tiredness, and any lingering pain was easily forgotten. There was no way they were going to last long enough to tackle the winding staircases between the great hall and either of their bedrooms (rooms he would have to convince this thrice-enchanted castle to shift close to one another, and wouldn't that be a project), so he needed to pick a destination before Belle turned his brain into melted butter. He was already dangerously close to dragging her over to the table and forgoing the idea of a bed, but he'd not do that to Belle, not for her first time.

Later, however…

"Oh, Rumple…" She made a lovely little sound when he ran his hands down her back, and his knees went weak. He was done for. Her room, then. She'd probably be more comfortable there, and—

An unmistakable tug actually pulled him back a few inches, and he snarled in incoherent fury. Rumplestiltskin.

"What is it?" Belle asked worriedly.

"Someone. Is. Calling. My. Name." The words came out from behind gritted teeth. Damn it all. This might be important, and he couldn't ignore it. Not when the careful threads he had been weaving into place for a century were finally starting to come together. This might matter.

"Now?" she asked dejectedly.

He growled. "Now."

Rumplestiltskin! There it was, the tug again. Someone was desperate, and desperation fueled some of the most powerful magic. Who might it be? There was no knowing. It wasn't a voice he recognized, anyway, whispering across the winds of magic. But that didn't mean that whatever this coming deal was, he couldn't turn it to his advantage.

Belle, being Belle, found a small laugh. "Is this going to be the rest of our lives, then?"

"Quite possibly." Rumplestiltskin scowled. "Though I will certainly make them regret the timing."

"Not too badly, I hope." But she smiled at him, a tiny smile that set his heart to racing all over again.

"Horribly," he promised with a grin, leaning close to steal another kiss. But then he made himself step back, twirling his fingers until he was wearing his old face again, scales, claws, and all. "Alas, my dear, I have a reputation to uphold."

"Go, then." Belle's answering grin turned wicked. "But don't take too long… I might get lonely."

Desire hit him like a punch to the gut, and he almost decided to throw everything away and stay home. Love makes us crazy, he reminded himself firmly, blaming his lightheadedness on that. And anticipation was supposed to heighten sensations.

Right.

Rumplestiltskin kissed her hand, because he didn't trust himself to kiss anything else and be able to leave. And then he vanished.


Snow let a breath out, told herself firmly to be strong, and turned and walked away. She refused to watch her friend's back as they parted ways. Red deserved to go home to Granny, and Snow was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Red had taught her to hunt and track, and if worst came to worst, she had a favor from Rumplestiltskin to call upon. Not that she ever planned on using it, because there simply had to be a catch. Red had told her enough about the Dark One that Snow understood that. Rumplestiltskin didn't do anything without a good reason, and he certainly wasn't in the business of saving young princesses from their evil stepmothers.

Yet the situation had been so…strange. Belle had seemed so honest, so in love. Snow and Red had been caught up in her quest so easily, both imagining themselves in her shoes, with their True Love stolen away by the Evil Queen. Neither had ever stopped to ask what Belle's love was named—it hadn't seemed to matter at the time. Belle was from another kingdom, and that meant neither of them expected to have recognized the name she would provide. In hindsight, of course, they should have demanded a name. Because then they might have known that Belle was lying to them.

Snow scowled, kicking up some rocks as she walked through the woods, staying parallel to the road. She liked to think of herself as a good judge of character, but Belle had completely hoodwinked both of them. They'd followed her into Regina's dungeons, gotten Grimsby killed, and for what? To rescue Rumplestiltskin? How had Regina been holding onto himanyway? Snow knew little about the Dark One other than what rumors said, but Red knew more. And Red had voiced the theory that whatever Rumplestiltskin was, it wasn't entirely human, and that no human witch, not even one as evil as Regina, should have been able to hold him.

And even if Regina was more powerful, how had Rumplestiltskin set things up so that a girl as sweet and kind as Belle was his rescuer? Had he enchanted Belle? That possibility seemed more likely than Belle having been a willing participant in the ruse. Maybe poor Belle was under a love spell of some sort. Nothing else made sense. No matter how much she continued to mull over the issue through the next few hours of her walk, no better explanation occurred to her. Finally, she stopped, looking at the road and a nearby tree.

"Well, this is as good a spot as any," Snow muttered to herself, and went to work on the tree trunk.

Twenty minutes later, the sudden sound of a coach approaching in the distance startled her. The tree had slammed into the ground several minutes before, and she'd just been sitting on it, thinking about the friend she'd thought she'd made and how things had gone wrong. Hearing the carriage, however, made Snow give up her thoughts to bolt into another nearby tree. The only carriages that crossed through this section of the forest belonged to Regina or her cronies, and that made this one a good target. Even if the outriders were dressed in white, they were bound to be connected to Regina in some way or another.

She smiled to herself. Snow didn't need to know what Regina was up to in order to poke at her, and stealing from her friends would make a good start.


Of course, the deal turned out to be important only to the girl involved. She'd been desperate, having been foolishly hoodwinked by her own maid and stuck tending geese while her maid tried to marry the prince, but that was hardly his problem. Rumplestiltskin could get her out of her sticky situation, of course—and sticky it was, judging from the amount of goose dung the poor princess was currently wearing—for a price. In the end, she'd hardly whined at all, and had accepted his demand that she surrender something precious to him at a later date.

Usually, he would have asked for something more concrete. His contract with Cinderella was not typical, thank you very much; he'd been testing the foolish girl and she had not precisely passed. However, he was starting to get inklings that he might need this little princess later, or at least her mother's cooperation. The kingdom she was marrying into was hardly a speck on the map, but her mother was a power in her own right and could very well prove useful in the future. So he had the girl sign the contract, arranged for her amulet to mysteriously re-appear, and waved her off to her happily ever after. It was hardly his finest work, but it would get the job done.

By the time he was done plucking the amulet out of the river the girl had dropped it in (miles and miles away; she really was not very bright. Why had her otherwise sound-of-judgment mother allowed her to travel alone?), he was horribly exhausted. In fact, by the time he made sure all the loose ends were tied up, his vision was starting to go wonky and the world was trying to spin. It took all of the concentration he had to get himself home, and the moment his feet touched the floor, his right leg gave out.

Flailing, Rumplestiltskin tried to catch himself, grabbing for the chair at the end of the table and managing to catch it with the fingertips of his left hand. But he wasn't close enough to actually use it for balance, and wound up bringing it crashing down to the floor with him. The heavy wooden chair landed on top of him, smashing into a rib that howled and cracked a little in protest.

The inarticulate noise of pain that escaped only made the situation even more inglorious, and he let out a hard breath, lying on his back on the cold floor and staring at the ceiling. He watched it spin for a few moments before he could even try to steady it out with magic, and then felt his muscles twitch painfully in response. Somewhere in there, the glamour had collapsed, too, though his mind was a bit too muddled to determine when.

Human body, human limitations. Must remember that. He'd used too much magic to compensate for his injuries and exhaustion, and now he was going to pay the price for that. Bloody wonderful.

"Rumplestiltskin?" Belle ran into the room, skidding to a stop when she noticed his predicament. "Are you all right?"

"Just fine, dear," he answered automatically, sitting up and almost falling over again. Damn, he was dizzy.

"What happened?" Immediately, she was by his side, righting the chair—which was big enough that she had to fight with it a little bit—and looking down at him worriedly. Had it not been for the concern in her eyes, he probably would have brushed her off, tried to pretend that he was fine until he could bury himself in bed and just sleep this disaster off…but it was Belle. She'd probably know he was lying, and, well…he was too tired to try.

"Actually, I'm not all right," he forced himself to say with painful honesty. "I don't know if it's the time with Regina or the different way of using magic, but…"

"You're still in pain," she said softly.

"Some. Not as bad." But his ability to manage the newly-healed injuries (and the one rather wrongly-healed old one) with magic was rapidly deteriorating, and his hands were starting to shake. Rumplestiltskin scowled. He hated feeling weak.

It would be so easy to—

No. He would not go there. He would let Belle help him up, ignore the damn curse and its seductive whispers, and sleep until his body had a chance to heal and adjust. He would not let the curse back in, no matter how much better it would make things in the short term. Ignoring the temptation was hard, but Rumplestiltskin knew the truth that his curse wanted him to forget. He didn't need the curse to have power. Even had he not struck a deal with it, he would still have had more knowledge of magic than any living being, save perhaps Reul Ghorm, and the Blue Fairy was about as mortal as he had been as the Dark One, so she didn't count. No, he didn't need the darkness—and the very human core of him now understood that while his soul remained corrupted by it, he would never again be the type of man Belle deserved…or the father Baelfire had wanted.

Baelfire. He'd abandoned his son for the power of that damn curse, and he'd nearly thrown Belle out for the same reason. But he'd been wrong. Yes, he needed power to do what needed to be done, but power he had. Darkness he could do without.

The curse, however, did not appreciate that realization, and suddenly its fury crashed down upon him once more. All he remembered before the world went black was starting to scream.


A/N: Sorry for the slight delay in updating – this story has been giving me fits lately, and just didn't want to be written. Stay tuned for Chapter Ten, in which uncomfortable truths come out between Rumplestiltskin and Belle, Snow calls in her favor, and Belle learns more about Rumplestiltskin's plan. In the meantime, please review!