As had become something of a daily habit, the princess of Avonlea woke, washed and dressed, and then sought out the Dark One for company early in the day.

She smiled to herself as Kala withdrew yet another new dress from her wardrobe. The Dark One's magic had swept over the castle, repairing everything from its broken stones down to the last hairline crack in the stained glass windows. He had ensured the kitchens were bursting with food, the courtyard was in a state of eternal spring, the library had been stocked with books from realms no one had ever dreamed of and that everyone - from their king down to their lowliest stable boy - had new clothes to wear.

No more threadbare clothing or holed shoes.

For the first time in years Belle actually looked the part of royalty, her dresses being imbued with finer detailing than any other woman's in the castle.

Each day, Kala would open the wardrobe doors and there would be one dress inside. Each day it would be a new frock, the dress from the day before never to be seen again. This day it was a dress of silvery-grey, with swirling patterns of deep royal blue lining the neck and the edge of the skirt. A sash of matching blue cinched in the waist, showing her shape very well once she dressed.

"The Dark One favors you." Kala said as she knotted Belle's hair.

This, the princess could no longer deny. "I think he does. I lost my fear of him on our first meeting in the courtyard. I do not think anyone in the castle truly fears him, not after all he's done for us, but I have endeavored to acquaint him. He may spend more time in my company than with the king."

Kala held her tongue in warning the royal. Tongues had started to wag on the strange friendship and rumors would be sure to follow, however Kala had given up on mothering Belle in such a way. Avonlea's princess had grown up in dire circumstances and so she was well above fretting over such things. They all were. All of Avonlea had been given a second chance at life itself - let the people talk.

In a way, gossip was a sign of the nation healing. That a curious friendship had formed between the demon mage and the princess was a wonderful thing to speak of compared to mere weeks ago, when the only news had been of the ever-looming threat advancing from all sides.

Yes. Let the people talk.

"You are braver than I, my lady. Of course I am so grateful for what he did for us, but I aim to keep my distance from him."

Belle thought on her maid's caution and distantly wondered if anyone else in the Dark One's acquaintance had made much of an effort to befriend him. She thought he might have mentioned it by now if anyone else had. Perhaps not, then.

Today the Dark One could not be found in the courtyard under the apple tree. He was not near the monument he had built for her, nor was he in the library or the main hall. Belle was growing a touch anxious at this upset to what had become their daily routine. Where had he gone? Had the king sent him off toward another bloody errand?

She stilled at the thought.

Her father had not spoken of those he'd set the Dark One after, and for this Belle was grateful. The news would reach her eventually, but she chose not to think on it.

Coward.

Just as Belle was leaving the main hall to find her father's advisors, she spotted a familiar maid carrying canteens down a corridor that lead to the squire stables.

"You. Sanka, is it? You are the Dark One's maid."

The younger woman nodded and smiled after giving a quick curtsey in respect to Belle's station. "Yes, My Lady, I am. I've served his meals since the first feast."

"I have seen you. He give you that ribbon?"

Belle recalled it better now, seeing this girl with a ribbon of gold in her hair when everyone in the castle was still wearing threadbare rags, herself included.

"Yes. He told me I was the first to earn one of his gifts. I have seen other ladies wearing his trinkets." Sanka said, almost in defense of herself.

"He can be generous with his charms." Belle remarked. "Did you serve his breakfast in the dungeons this morning?"

"Most days I do, yes, My Lady. I am escorted there by guards but today the Dark One is not in the dungeon, he was given a room in the tower."

At this, Belle raised her brows and a smile broke over her face. "My father gave him a room? That's wonderful! I knew he would think on it and see my side - if he is to force the Dark One to stay, then he should be treated with kindness, not banished to the dungeon until the king has need of him."

"My Lady?"

"You've seen it for yourself, and I cannot imagine that the Dark One has held his tongue with you."

"I know what you mean. And yes, the Dark One has been very, ah, vocal about his feelings toward the king." Sanka said uncomfortably.

Belle sighed. Even the servants knew her father was risking much by prodding the dragon. "Our king would treat the savior like a rented mule - overworked and then put away out of sight. But now this, I must see him. Where is he, where is the room he was given?"

"It is in the north tower, my lady."

After checking several of the known bedchambers and finding them empty, Belle climbed the stairs higher until she reached the last landing. She huffed, feeling puzzled. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been this high into the north tower - there was never much need for her to venture here as there was only one door that lead into an observation room.

Belle thought the term room to be far too generous, it was practically a closet with a large window from which one could watch for approaching visitors on the road leading to the keep. She paused on the landing. From behind the door she could hear muffled scraping sounds, and curiosity grew within her. She stepped close to the door and knocked, calling for him. "Dark One?"

The door opened to reveal him just inside, seated on a stool before a large spinning wheel. "Princess, I am here."

Yes, he was there. Just him and the wheel and a large closed chest pushed up against the opposite wall. The observation room was otherwise empty, and felt cramped the moment she stepped over the threshold - were it not for the window overlooking the fields below, Belle would have felt closed in, trapped.

Her strange companion did not look up at her, he was focused on the wheel, turning it slowly, listening to the soft creaking of the aged wood.

Belle wrung her hands. She didn't know what to make of this, him being stuck up in the tower, alone with a wheel. "Your ribbon maid, she told me a room in the tower had been given to you...I had hoped that my father had given you a proper bedchamber."

At that, he looked up at her, "You assume I sleep."

"You don't? Or you can't?"

"No rest for the wicked. I can sleep, just not often and not for long. In any case this closet of a room is not to be my bedchambers, as you can see." There was barely a foot between the wheel and the edge of the chest. No, this was not a bedchamber for him, this was simply yet another place where he had been tasked by her king.

Once he had finished his weaving, he would be banished back into his dungeon cell, a space Belle had not yet dared to venture.

Belle's eyes were drawn to the wheel's slow turning motion. "What are you doing?"

"I've been commanded to build your treasury."

"With a spinning wheel?"

"It's a bit more than just that, but yes. It will take more than magic to restore your little kingdom. It will take gold. All the gold I can make."

Her eyes widened. His thieving horses from another kingdom was one thing, but if the mage could make gold, if he truly was the fountain of wealth he had just claimed himself to be, then her father would truly never let him go free.

It would be madness. Even Belle could see that.

"You make it?"

Careful to feed straw into the wheel, the Dark One shrugged. "I do not lay eggs as the great goose, but yes. You see here? Straw goes in one end, spins through the wheel, and...there."

Belle knelt before him to pick up a coil of gold thread from the catching bowl on the floor. She held the thread between her fingers, feeling the weight of it, watching it glint in the light. "It's real gold, I don't believe it!"

That won a true laugh from him. "I changed ogres into doves and you're so impressed with a bit of spinning?"

She dropped the thread back into the bowl and sat on the chest just before him. She met his eyes steadily through the slow turns of the wheel. "You think me simple."

"No. Never that, Belle."

"You've never called me by name before."

He pretended not to notice. "Hmmm?"

"It's always princess, or dearie or whatever name you choose on a whim. Never Belle, until now. Why is that?"

The Dark One stopped turning the wheel, the sudden silence was jarring in so close a space. "We are alone here."

"So we are."

It was true. They spent much time together, but always in the common areas of the castle: the courtyard, the main hall, the library. Never before had they been truly alone. Belle studied his face, his scales grey in the dim light but his eyes just as intense as they were on the night of their first meeting.

She wished she knew him better, that she could better understand his expressions. The way he was looking at her was almost-

"Until the guard comes with the next chest, that is." The Dark One dropped his eyes from hers and resumed his work at the wheel.

Belle frowned, "The next chest?"

"Yes, it'll be the third this day."

She moved off the chest where she'd been sitting and lifted the heavy lid, shocked to find it nearly filled to bursting with his bright gold thread. It gave off a light of its own, the glow almost hypnotic, and the room felt oppressively dull when she closed the chest, snuffing the light.

Belle rested her palms flat on the closed chest. "This is far more than we could ever need."

Behind her, the Dark One sneered. She didn't have to look at him, she could hear the contempt in his voice.

"Need? Your father's vision has far outgrown what this kingdom merely needs for its recovery. No, he sees a way toward forceful expansion, or hadn't you heard?

"No, you must be-"

"Mistaken? Go ask him yourself. Ask him if, after the crops are restored, the towns rebuilt and the populace reborn, ask him if he doesn't intend to raise or even buy an army to expand his borders."

She turned around to face him once more. "Dark One, why would he-?"

"Because wine will never get a man so drunk as the taste of power...It's Rumplestiltskin, by the way."

She didn't recognize the word. "I'm sorry?"

He kept his eyes on the thread catching in the wheel. "My name isn't Dark One. That is what I am, not who. I am Rumplestiltskin."

Belle tested the name on her own tongue. "Rumplestiltskin. That word is on your dagger."

"Yes. The dagger binds my soul and so is etched with my name."

"Rumplestiltskin...it is an unusual name." She found herself smiling. The Dark One had a name.

"Yes, and I am the most unusual of men."

"So you are."

He looked up at her again. "My name is for you alone, not to be shared with any others. Not even your king. When we are alone, you can call me Rumplestiltskin, if it should please you."

"That would please me. It is such an unusual name but I like it. I think it suits you."

He stopped the wheel between them, allowing gravity to weigh down his words when he told her, "It's all I can give you for now, but my name is more than I've given most."

"Thank you, Rumplestiltskin." Belle reached through the spokes of his wheel and took his hand, her fond habit. "You have my promise. I will tell no one."