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Kiss of a Rose
The teacher had hit her with the ruler. In fact, the teacher had hit her with that ruler every day, sometimes even more then once, similar to her father, who also hit her if she actually had the nerve to express her opinion. Thousands of ways to kill each and every one of these people had gone through Rumpelstiltskin's head. But he had made a deal; one which he had no choice but to keep. It was also one, that had forced him to watch her suffer, each and every day. She never called out to him, never sook out comfort. After so many years of being alone with only her maid, her heart had grown strong. She hardly knew what it felt like to actually need comfort, or love, or someone to make her laugh. All those little advantages had been ripped from her the day he had left, and she didn't have the heart to allow them to return. She wasn't his sweet little Belle, but simply a young woman who strove to do her best every day she lived.
He watches silently as she paces down the halls, fixing different tapestries and opening curtains. She didn't know he was there but her voice was a comfort. She sang, not anything he had ever heard, but that didn't matter. Her voice is what he needed to hear, it was a sign that she still lived for more then just having to be queen. The idiot knight walks in with her father and many others. He follows as Gaston lifts her in the air while she tries to look pleased, smiling and pecking him on the cheek. They walk outside into the garden, where he places her on a bench, watching her with his hand in his pocket.
"Isabelle," he says slowly, getting on one knee. Everyone watches her, and she looks at her father who gives her a You better except, look. Why had he made that stupid promise? Everyone in this castle would be under his boot by now, and he would carry her to his castle, above the vile creatures, where she would stay with him. A wind blows and she looks back down as he lifts a ring with two sapphires on it surrounded by diamonds. Bland compared to what she deserved. "Will you marry me?" She closes her eyes and places her hand out to where he can put the ring on it.
"I will marry you, Gaston." He places it on her finger and forces her into another kiss. Nothing is gentle with him, everything had to be harsh and quick. Rumple fights between feeling compassion towards Isabelle and complete and utter hatred toward Gaston. The problem was, which one to act upon.
"So that's it," Gaston says. "No squealing or jumping or showing the ring to everyone?"
"We aren't married yet," she responds. "I need to save the energy for then." He shakes his head and walks away with Isabelle. She actually had the ability to lie. Certainly Isabelle was smart enough to know that he would not let her marry that brute.
What is it supposed to feel like when one gets engaged? Happy, joyful, indescribable? Painful. Regretful. Frighting. But she had gotten away...for now. She had fled, and it was night, into the forest. Her clothes were ripped and the sky was dark enough to express her emotions. She hadn't known before that pain could run deep enough to not allow the relief of tears to come. She tried to cry, to weep. The owls did so for her.
How long would the night last? Here in the forest, where her mother silently lays deep beneath the soil is where she used to dance and pick flowers. It was where she found out that Rumple really cared before leaving, and for claiming he cared all along before...well...before everything. Her wrists burn from the bruises and she sits quietly, like a lady, on the cave floor. Perhaps this was all her imagination. A familiar poof startles her and she stands, leaning against the wall.
"Running away again, dearie?" she hears.
"It's not as if I can do any different. But no, not again nor ever. Simply trying to find peace before everything, even my innocence is taken away."
"Ah, innocence," he says.
"Are you going to force me into another deal?"
"I haven't ever forced you into any deals," he responds. She sits back down and takes off her ring, throwing it aside.
"I cannot run away from this. I will marry him, he will save us from the ogers, and my father will finally be happy."
"Actually," he says, pausing slightly, "you won't." She shakes her head, standing.
"I need to get back. Please, leave."
"Is this how it is going to be once again, dearie?" She turns.
"Are you going to keep calling me dearie?" He is silent. Perhaps if he could coax her into just talking with him, she would come back, even if just for the night. She turns, and continues to walk out into the forest.
"Wait," he says quietly. She stops and leans against a cave wall.
"What is it, Rumple?" She searches for words, seeking everything from him but forcing her body to refuse it. "Why is it that even though you are here, it's as if you are still gone? I see you, but I feel nothing. I have dedicated my life to the kingdom, taught myself how to be brave and speak up and grit my teeth. Why do you insist on having a relationship with me, when I have been taken. My heart lives with the kingdom. I no longer belong to you." He walks up to her as she avoids his eyes, although she can hardly see in the dark. Her face is hard, but still shows grace and beauty.
"Belle, why do you always where this.." he says, lifting the necklace from her neck, "even while you sleep?" She doesn't respond, but shakes her head and walks out.
"I have more important things I must worry about. Gaston needs me, my people need me. Do not try to sway my mind after I have worked so hard to fix it." She walks back to the castle, alone, but still wearing the necklace. He poofs away, into another night of dealing. It would be a long time until she let herself open up to him, not that he cared, but the only time he felt human was when she was around. And if she was meant to save him, perhaps she could rescue his son as well.
Isabelle stares at her necklace, her lips formed in a tight line. The crown he gave her sits on her head above the golden dress her father had given her. You look just like your mother, he said. She wore that dress right after our engagement. We were the only ones in the kingdom with true love, my sweet Isabelle. Perhaps you, one day will be happy as well. She puts the necklace down. Her collarbone shows beneath it above the swell of her breasts. The maid walks in and she stands, gaining her composure.
"Isabelle, you are absolutely breathtaking," she gasps, taking her hand. She waited, waited for her to tell her this is what her mother wanted her to have when she became engaged, a note, a piece of jewelry. But she says nothing more, and simply guides her to stand before her father. He gapes at her, and she sees tears begin to fall down his old, withered cheeks.
"Isabelle," he breathes. "Daughter." She looks down. Daughter. Had she ever truly been that? Or just a girl learning to become queen? "Three weeks ago you were engaged to Gaston. Sixteen years ago, I held you in my arms." He stands, and takes her arm. "I must now give you away, to another." He puts his head down.
"Father, I will always be yours." He looks to her, his brown eyes glistening.
"Just like your mother, my sweet girl. As beautiful as the day we met." He clears his throat and guides her into the ballroom. Lights are everywhere, and the people cheer as she enters, no longer a little girl. Her ring shines as Gaston runs to meet her, bringing her in for another kiss. Everything is a blur, the people, the lights. She pulls away, already tasting alcohol in his breath.
"What's with the crown?" he asks, gaping at it.
"A close friend made it for me," she responds. He stares at it.
"This friend must be rich. I have never seen gold so fine and pure. And the jewels, they are very rare and hard to come by." She nods her head, and they walk into the middle, dancing. She purposely avoids the door leading to the balcony. It wouldn't do for him to take her fully yet.
An hour later, Gaston stops and goes back to drinking with his friends. She stands to the side, knowing that it would not be looked upon kindly if she danced with another. Her father does not drink, but stares blindly ahead in his chair. Food piles up on a table near the side and she walks over. Eating can heal a broken heart. But was her heart broken, or just concerned? If Gaston could not stay away from drink on her engagement party, then he wouldn't on her wedding night either. She takes a few bites and sees the wine glimmering in the corner. It looks so good, so sweet, so relieving. The server pours her a glass and she lifts it to her lips. It is bitter, but beautifully so. She enjoys the burn as it washes down her throat.
"Drinking, dearie?" She hears. She downs the rest and demands more. He shouldn't be here. He had never come before and he shouldn't be here. She looks around but sees nobody. A purple poof in the distance brings her back, and she sees him walking towards her dressed handsomely in his silk shirt, the pink one she had completely forgotten he had.
"People are going to see you," she says when he gets closer. He offers his hand and she looks at him, confused. "What are you doing?"
"Distracting you. Now come along, dearie, and you shall see how." He has that awful, playful glint in his eyes, the one that says that this isn't going to be something particularly good. But if she could let go, just for a night – if she could forget, and just be herself until morning, perhaps things would turn out all right. She sets the glass down and takes his hand. He leads her out into the garden, where the rose bush he had helped her plant years ago blooms. "Belle," he says. She shakes her head and lets go of his hand, placing her arms around his neck.
She takes off her ring and hands it to him. "You see this," she says dryly. He nods, looking at her confused. "Make it go away. Please," she whispers, realizing that she was breaking. "Just –" He places a finger on her lips and it disappears in a little cloud of purple smoke. Another one appears, and he takes her hand. She looks up.
"Perhaps this one will do, my flower?" he asks. It is much more beautiful, stones and diamonds of the highest quality forming the entire thing. It shines in the moonlight.
"How did – "
"I just knew."
"But you always know," she says quietly. "You have always known." He brushes hair out of her face. "Kiss me." He steps back, startled. "Just once."
"You must have had to much drink, dearie. You are only a girl compared to me." She walks closer to him and he backs away. It had been years since he had ever felt so cornered, like he wanted to do something but felt so awful about it.
"Rumple, please." He walks around her and she spins with him.
"No."
"How about, not yet?" He leans against a wall as she watches him.
"Perhaps."
"You aren't saying much."
"I am not going to kiss you!"
"Well then, perhaps you will dance?" He sighs, and does his famous imp bow.
"If you will have me." She wraps her arms around his neck and they dance to the music playing above them. She lays her head on his chest, finally relaxed. He smells so sweet, like rosemary and straw and parsley. His breaths fall softly on her forehead as she listens to his heartbeat. He places his head over top of hers. "Belle," he says. "If you meet me in the library, two days from now, I will kiss you."
"The library is locked, my dear prince," she replies.
"Not when I tell it to let you enter."
"Then I shall enter." The music begins to slow and she closes her eyes, knowing that she must return. He combs his fingers through her hair and with sad whisper, they are back in the ballroom. She lets go of him and turns away, walking back through the crowds where her father waits, the ring still upon her finger.