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Making Amends

The sorcerer frowned, his observant gaze following his little maid as she made her way into the Great Hall. His eyes flickered briefly over to the clock on the mantel. She was fifteen minutes late with his afternoon tea. In fact, he'd just been about to go in search of her when he'd heard her footsteps padding down the corridor. The reprimand, hovering at the tip of his tongue, died a rapid death as he took in her unsteady gait, the fiery color of her nose, red-rimmed eyes, and the paleness of her usually rosy cheeks. His brow furrowed darkly as he noticed the flannel throw – normally found on the sofa in her library – slung about her shoulders over the ratty golden gown she wore. He really was beginning to hate that blasted garment.

Rumpelstiltskin rose from his wheel and made his way over to the end of the table where she'd set the tray, wincing as he got a better look at her. Belle truly looked awful. Yet, before he could utter a word, she sneezed. He made a face and brushed his hand over the front of his waistcoat. "A bit under the weather, dearie?"

No dryly muttered rejoinder, no arched brow, no amused quirking of her lips. Just a flat, "Is it that obvious?" she asked, her soft words accompanied by a cough and a shudder. "I do apologize for my lateness, Master."

He studied her worriedly. How could she have fallen ill? He'd made certain she was warm enough when he'd taken her out to play in the snow. But you don't make sure she's warm enough lying on just a pile of straw in the dungeon every night with just a thin woolen blanket to stave off the cold, the voice in his head intoned smugly. Fucking hellfire! It was all his fault. And really? Why was she still sleeping in the dungeon? Was he truly such a neglectful master? Gah!

Her delicate hands shook as she poured tea into his chipped cup. "Aren't you going to have any?" he asked, feeling stupid. As ill as she was, he should make her sit by the fire … perhaps pour her a cup of her own and spike it with a little goblin-made whiskey to help clear her sinuses. Or better yet, hurry up to his workroom and fetch her a cordial to ease the congestion he could hear rattling in her chest.

Belle swayed slightly, clutching at the throw about her shoulders. "I would love to, but I doubt I could keep it down. Thank you for the off- off- offer," she stuttered, the room spinning.

Rumpelstiltskin caught her with his free arm, setting his teacup on the tray before scooping her up into his arms. He was an ass! It was his fault, he lamented again. How was he ever going to make amends? He'd been trying so hard to figure her out, wondering how she could be so kind to him, he hadn't realized his standoffishness – if not outright surliness – had resulted in hurting the girl. He should have paid better attention. He should have seen she was suffering! But how could he when the princess never complained?

He took the stairs two at a time, carrying him up towards the library he'd built for her with his magic. There was a bedroom near the stairs leading into it which would suit her quite well. One with a small sitting room and its own private bathing chamber. She would have privacy and warmth and comfort. Provided she doesn't die due to your neglect, the voice sneered. No! She couldn't die … he wouldn't allow it. She'd promised him forever, and by the gods she would hold true to that promise!

Belle moaned softly. "I don't want to go to the library this afternoon. I doubt my voice would carry enough to read to you, Master."

"Hush, dearie. I won't ask you to read to me until you're better and you wish it also."

A wracking cough nearly caused him to drop her, and he hurried his pace, the door to her new room swinging open as he approached. He swept her straight through to lay her gently upon the bed. The hearth roared to life, the candles in their ornate sconces flickering as they too were lit with magic.

Her eyes widened in alarm, yet he could see no fear in their depths. "Where are we?"

"Your new room," he said, dropping to a knee to remove her shoes.

Belle groaned, then coughed. "N-Nooo … I'm going to get the bed filthy."

That made him feel worse. "No, you're not. The tub is filled and waiting for you. I have a soft flannel night gown for you to put on when you're done." Gods, did he feel guilty.

She giggled. "Can I wear it from now on, s-so I can toss this one into the fire?"

Rumpelstiltskin frowned, pressing the back of his hand against her brow. The fever was making her delirious. "There are dresses and shoes for you in the wardrobe, little dearie."

Belle blinked up at him, stunned. "Why are you being so nice?"

The mage rolled his eyes and made her turn over, so he could unfasten her stays. His cheeks flushed a darker gold over his cheekbones as his fingers brushed against her thin shift. "Don't be absurd. The Dark One isn't nice," he sneered

"Perhaps not … but my master can be when he wishes," she mumbled, pressing her face against the softness of the duvet.

"Bath now, sleep later," he admonished when he took note of her lassitude.

Belle pressed a hand to her bosom to hold her dress in place as she rolled over and struggled to her feet. "I have my own bathing chamber, too? I must be dreaming," she added the last to herself.

"Bath!"

He gave her a gentle nudge in that direction, making sure she was steady before poofing up to his workroom. He took his time gathering up an elixir which would clear her head from the fog it must be in, and cordials for her stuffy nose and chest congestion. Those would surely help her sleep, and rest was essential to her recovery. He wanted to make sure she was quite finished with her bath by the time he arrived. He didn't poof directly into her room, instead giving a gentle rap to the door to alert her of his return.

"Belle, are you decent?"

A giggle cut off with a nasty cough. "Not in the least," he thought he heard her murmur. He had to have been mistaken. Finally, she called for him to enter.

His little maid was propped up against a mountain of squashy pillows in the center of her new bed, her petite form swathed in warm flannel, her eyes closed in contentment as she pulled the brush through her damp hair. She was the picture of innocence, and he wanted to take her and drown in sin. He bit down sharply on the inside of his cheek and focused on the vials clasped tightly in his hand instead of the traitorous appendage between his legs. "You … um … you're looking much better, dearie," he said as he neared the bed.

Belle graced him with a smile so filled with happiness, he was nearly blinded. "It feels so wonderful to be clean. Not to say I haven't sponged off enough," she assured him, not wanting him to think she could abide slovenliness, "but to be able to soak a bit in that marvelous tub was a little slice of heaven."

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed thickly at the thought of her submerged in bubbles up to her chin, but hid it well. "Here … drink these. They will help."

"I'm sorry to be such a bother," she demurred, obediently swallowing down the potions he'd brought her.

He huffed a short laugh. "You're no bother, dearie. Just can't have the help thinking she can get out of her deal by cocking up her toes as you so delicately like to call it."

Her head tilted to the side, her scrutinizing gaze making him uncomfortable. It didn't help matters when she curled her slender arms around his neck and pressed herself against his chest. "You didn't have to give me this wonderful room, Master … but I'm so thankful you did. You're a good man whether you choose to believe it or not," she whispered, her head coming to rest against his shoulder.

Rumpelstiltskin patted her awkwardly on the back, willing himself to enjoy the moment instead of fleeing as his innate nature demanded. He eased her back onto the pillows, seeing her eyes were already drooping with weariness. He rose from the edge of the bed and pulled the duvet up to her chin. "Sleep well, little dearie."

Belle sighed softly and drifted off to sleep.

A/N: I really loved this one. Hope you did too :D