The Birds They Put In Cages
– Chapter 10 –
'And who are we to argue fate,
and who is time to make us wait?
I'm standing here with nothing left to prove...'
–Jack's Mannequin
The compulsory attendance for the citizens of District 8 to see in the Victor's train means that Belle has a huge audience awaiting her return.
The familiar faces in the crowd smile or frown or don't do anything at all as she steps out of the open door of the train and onto the platform. She is ushered towards a waiting car after a few moments of waving and smiling and fluttering her eyelashes for the cameras recording her reappearance in her district.
Belle is taken, alone, to the Justice Building, where the mayor shakes her hand and welcomes her back. He tells her what is expected of her in the coming months – nothing, practically – and what house will be hers in the Victors' Village. Not that it matters. She knows she'll find her way over to Gold's no matter where she lives.
She is then taken in the same car that she arrived in to her new house. Left there, alone again, she explores the luxuries only Gold and the officials know about in District 8, like the clean running water and heating, the interior design and the clothes, the food, and the tens of rooms in her pretty little house.
They're all well-built, the houses in the Victors' Village, stocked with everything a freshly-crowned victor might need – hot water on-demand for all the washing it will take to keep the memory of blood off of her skin, and thick walls for keeping in any nightmare-fuelled screams.
Belle has managed to sleep more often than not at night, but it takes Gold's arms to truly send her off and keep her dreams at bay. It's been a week and a half since that night in his hotel room, and she has had to sleep on her own a total of four times. Each time Belle has woken damp and panting, reaching out for the comfort of Gold's touch to find nothing but cold sheets.
His late nights and meetings – mostly due to the Capitol citizens' proclivities for being nocturnal – have, however, been essential.
Gold had formally requested an audience with President Snow, and he and Belle had waited three days before an answer was given. Gold had gone to his appointment and returned with the news that Snow demanded only a little more money than had been offered. Gold had worked tirelessly after that meeting to make sure that every avenue was explored and every stone was turned, and, eventually, the sum had been amounted.
Snow had accepted the offer – with much reluctance, according to Gold – but added the stipulation that if they keep quiet about their upcoming nuptials – to keep the public interested in the "single and carefree Bloody Rose" – then there will be no repercussions for them.
And so, they will be married, after the Victory Tour, and in the privacy of their own home, according to the customs of their district. And, now, they are poor and favourless, but Belle can't keep the smile off of her face as she looks out of the wide kitchen window, above the chrome sink, and sees a car dropping off Gold outside of the house opposite.
Their green and grassy gardens – Belle's never seen so much greenery in all her life – back onto each other, and she notices the moment he catches sight of her through the window. His eyes fix on hers, his smile slow and sly, and she knows that he's arranged this, their homes being adjacent to one another.
Belle opens the latch on the backdoor and steps out onto her back porch. Gold's cane sinks into the soft grass as he crosses their backyards to meet her. She sits in the spotless, golden-coloured, wooden swing seat, and he joins her there.
He brings with him the smell of strong tea and his own familiar scent. Belle leans in to him, pushing his soft hair away from his neck and taking a deep breath. His smell makes her head swim and brings a smile to her face.
Gold turns his face to her a little, so Belle can see his hooded gaze and curling smile. "Taking advantage, dear?"
"When don't I?" She murmurs, and feels more than hears his laugh.
He wraps an arm about her shoulders and draws her in close, squeezing her shoulder and pressing a kiss into her hair. Belle can't believe that they're actually here, in this moment, able to make some kind of future together.
They stay quiet for the longest time, Gold with his eyes closed as Belle's gaze roves the white and cloudy sky. Their district isn't the prettiest – all industry and business, and practicality over preference – but the Victors' Village is most certainly a slice of Heaven. Lush and green, safe and comfortable, Belle admires the carefully-tended surroundings down to the smallest white flower dotting her new lawn.
"I'll invite Red over at some point, though, knowing her, she'll be over herself soon enough," Belle says aloud, and Gold mutters his reply.
"What about your father?"
Belle knows that a victor's family is entitled to live in the victor's house with him or her, and she's more than willing to have her father stay with her, living comfortably for the rest of his days, but only if he comes to her.
She'd like to extend a hand to him, be the first to broach this chasm between them, but his dismissal of her hurts too much to allow it.
Belle glances up at Gold. He returns the simple look, giving her a soft quirk of his lips once he's found his answer in her expression.
"Whatever you want, Belle," he promises, and they return to silence once more.
After some time, Belle's thoughts begin to drift, as her fingers fiddle with the shining, black buttons of Gold's long coat, the material soft against her cheek.
"How did you first notice me?" She asks, her voice hushed, because they haven't really talked much of the past.
A deep breath. "I was going to Granny's to collect a favour. You flitted out, your nose in a book, and I..."
She gives a shy smile. "I tend to get engrossed."
"You were seventeen, I think," he continues, frowning slightly. "Too young and pretty for the likes of me. Put me in a bad mood for the rest of the week."
"Why?"
Gold shakes his head. "I just... Seeing you, feeling that instant...something, it just reminded me I was alone."
Belle's eyes flick to the house across from their slightly swaying seat, the neat porch and the white – almost pink – paint, and she wonders how long he's lived in that house like it's a tomb, without comfort or touch, a beast in its den.
His eyes follow hers, to his house, and it's like he knows exactly what she's thinking. "My father died in an accident in the factory when I was ten, and my mother, she...passed away while I was in the arena. She never saw me win, and I was never able to take her out of our hovel and give her this life."
Gold's hand slips from Belle's shoulder, around her waist, and feels out her arm wrapped about her middle, finding the fingers of her right hand and taking them between his. And, suddenly, it's like he's not just telling her a story, he's sharing it with her because he wants her to know.
"I never wanted to marry," he tells her. "I thought it was best to just be the man everyone thinks I am, and live out whatever time I have left. Then you appeared, and you made me curious."
Belle grins. "Did you try to find out about me?"
Gold turns his face to hers and gives her a wry smile. "Try being the operative word, sweetheart. No one would talk. I'm sure they thought I was going to steal you away from them."
"You sort of have," she points out, and he takes her teasing with good grace.
Gold nods and sighs. "After a while, I saw you in Granny's again as I passed by. The door was open, you were talking to her about trading for a book about birds, and she just gave it to you, told you to look after her granddaughter as payment." He laughs. "You said something about doing that anyway so she should name another price, and I just knew...you were precious. You are precious, Belle."
She cuddles closer, enjoying his warmth and his comfort, and he returns the favour, tightening his hold.
"You make me want to be me, Belle," he whispers into her ear, only for her. "Not the Victor. You make me want to not be so alone."
She smiles, because she knows he loves her, even if it all started at a distance and they're still really getting to know each other now, and...well, she's sure it's mutual. But neither of them will say it yet, that's all.
She kisses his cheek, lingering, before his voice interrupts her casual savouring of his warm, tea-tinted breath fanning across her face.
"What about me?" Gold enquires softly, and Belle knows what he's asking.
"You've always been a legend," she breathes. "A living tale to terrorise the kids with. Fear always comes with fascination, Rum, and I've always loved a puzzle." Belle looks up at him thoughtfully. "I suppose I'll be part of that tale now, not that I mind."
He runs a tentative hand through her hair. "Fascination?"
"I like layers, so I can unwrap them." Belle grins. "You have layers, and it doesn't hurt that what lies beneath them all is so...perfect. Intelligent, wicked, and caring, beneath everything? Don't think I'm in love with your legend rather than you, Rum."
She realises she's said it, that it's too soon, but there's no way of reeling the words back in so she just lets them hang there, floating and teasing, between them.
Gold looks at her for a moment, expression unreadable, before he steals a toe-curling kiss, taking her breath and leaving her with a thundering heartbeat after far too short a time of his lips pressed to hers.
"Remember," he mutters against her lips. "You caved first."
She punches his shoulder and he throws his head back and laughs.