Chapter Eleven—Days whipped by. Rumplestiltskin's pet prince and princess ran circles around one another, desperately in love and fighting to save one another again and again. Rumplestiltskin and Belle settled into a far different life than the one they'd shared prior to his curse breaking, and even amidst his mad preparations for the Curse to End All Curses, he found a measure of peace that he had never thought to find again. She kept him centered, Belle did, gave him something to live for other than the bittersweet memory of a son he lost. Ever so slowly, Belle's love uncovered the man he had been before the Dark Curse, and Rumplestiltskin started to change.
A little, anyway. The darkness had been on him too long to return him to the naive and gentle spinner he had been. Physical courage he could mimic now, particularly with magic always at his fingertips, but the shy spinner's nonexistent self-esteem still existed beneath the hard outer shell. Belle called him a walking contradiction, a man with unlimited power who continued to hate himself. But Rumplestiltskin was under no illusions. He knew what he was, even without the curse to own his soul. He was scarred, tainted, dark, and he was still ruthless enough to turn an entire world inside out to find his boy.
Yet every now and then, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a piece to a different puzzle, the image of the Dark Curse turned inside out. Every time he tried to hold to the visions, they vanished, but they also stayed with him. His previous visions had never included his own curse breaking. He had always remained the Dark One through the journey to a Land Without Magic. Had he and Belle changed something else when they had kissed, breaking his curse? "You will learn to tell what can be from what will be," the seer had told him, all those years ago. Rumplestiltskin had thought he had mastered that skill.
What if he was wrong?
What if he were to become the Dark One once more? Would that bring things back on track?
"Shut up," he muttered to his own doubts. Hopes? The two were so difficult to tell apart these days. And his curse remained crafty. It still wanted back in, and in his more impatient moments, he wanted to let it back in, wanted to believe that he could actually have everything, that he could remain cursed, love Belle, and find Baelfire.
You need the power, and the power is here…
Shooting a glare up at the swirling clouds on the ceiling of his work room, Rumplestiltskin returned his attention to the dagger on the table. He'd dug it out of hiding that morning while Belle curled up with a good book, planning to force as much of the Dark One's curse back into the dagger as he could manage. He could live with the whispers—they were hardly new, and were so much more quiet these days than the full on demands for blood and anger and fear and terror had been while he was under the curse—but that cloud of furious power needed to go. It had attacked him thrice more while his guard was down, and while he'd come out of each successive encounter better than the last, it was only a matter of time before the curse chose to attack at an exceedingly inconvenient moment.
Slowly, he removed the cloth wrapped around the dagger, willing his hands not to shake. He'd not had the courage to look at the dagger since the curse had broken. Belle would undoubtedly have told him to do so, but for all he'd explained the curse to her, he'd left out any mention of the dagger. Much to his chagrin, he'd shared that information once before, and then had gone to great lengths to ensure the woman who knew his weakness was banished to another world, long after she'd broken his heart. He'd not be so foolish twice, at least not until he knew. Not that Belle was like Cora in any way, but some lessons did tend to stick.
The blade shined dully in the mid-afternoon light, sharp-edged, clean and…not quite blank. Lifting it by the hilt, Rumplestiltskin turned it this way and that, noticing that when the light hit the blade just right, a name was visible.
Rumplestiltskin
Damn. Broken though the curse might have been, it still lingered. And judging from the way the dagger looked, it still lingered in him.
Rumplestiltskin repressed the desire to growl at the dagger. His dagger, still. It probably could still kill him, too—though he strongly suspected that he was mortal enough to worry about more mundane threats killing him, as well, or at least those that might slay him faster than he could heal himself. Those concerns, however, were for another time. For now he needed to contain the damn curse before it found a way to do something he'd regret letting it do. He had to maintain a careful balance between access to the curse's power and containing the sheer darkness it embodied. Containing it at all would mean he'd have a harder time using the power, but that was something he'd just have to live with. Still, he had never once used the full power available to him while under the curse, and what he would be able to access would still dwarf anything available to any mortal magic user. He wasn't fond of limitations, but the ability to own his own soul for the first time in three centuries balanced the equation out nicely.
Clearing his mind and reaching for the magic, he went to work.
Instead of taking the memory potion, the young Princess Snow found herself in King George's hands, having been chased down by her True Love after she tried to push him away. The pair of them ran afoul of the so-called prince's (supposed) father's men, which turned into a chase that ended with Snow injured and captured. Rumplestiltskin had expressed mild surprise at that change when he'd noticed it—he hadn't expected her to prove so resilient, he told Belle—but otherwise things were going according to his plan. Just thinking of the long years of work he had put into this scheme of his was almost enough to make her head spin. It took more than an ability to see the future to pull together the hundreds of strings he was busy weaving together, and there were times that she thought he was as insane as he was brilliant.
At the moment, however, Belle was curled up in the great hall with a good book, relishing the opportunity to put aside her worries for a while. Just that morning, she and Rumplestiltskin had gone through the first argument of their marriage—though certainly not their first ever fight; that one was long in the past—and she still wasn't sure what the result was. He'd gone up to his tower workroom to sulk and (supposedly) do something useful, and she buried herself in a book. Eventually, Rumplestiltskin would come around to the fact that she was right, and Belle knew that she'd wind up giving a little bit on the topic of actually having a household. She knew the reason why he never kept servants around was because he didn't want to manage them, not even through a head steward of some sort. But Belle had been raised to run a household much like the Dark Caste was built to require, and she thought it would be entirely smarter if Rumplestiltskin employed some human help to take the burden off of his magic.
He hadn't exactly told her she was wrong, either, which definitely told her that she was going to win. In fact—
"Rumplestiltskin!" a deep voice bellowed as the doors flew open, startling Belle out of her book. Usually, Rumplestiltskin intercepted visitors in the entrance hall, so if the intruder had made it this far, her love must have been very distracted.
Interestingly enough, though she waited the requisite moment or two, he still didn't appear, leaving Belle faced with two strangers: an irate and balding dwarf, and a prince handsome enough to make even a married woman swoon.
"Can I help you?" she asked courteously, rising from her chair and smoothing her dress down. Thankfully, Rumplestiltskin had insisted that she look the part of the lady of the castle even when they weren't expecting guests, and had completely replaced her wardrobe of "work" dresses with more elegant clothing. She'd insisted on comfortably elegant clothing, but hadn't kept him from spoiling her—Belle could tell he enjoyed it, and she wasn't exactly averse to looking her best. Although the gaggle of dressmakers her husband had brought in had been more than a little annoying when they'd insisted upon cowering every time Rumplestiltskin showed up.
The dwarf stopped cold. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"Who are you?" she countered, approaching the pair with a smile. The prince—judging from his bearing, he could be nothing else, although Belle couldn't think of any princes who were known for keeping company with dwarves—looked around warily, as if waiting for something to attack them. The dwarf just met her eyes brazenly.
"I asked you first," he retorted.
Belle chuckled. "So you did. I'm Belle."
She probably should have introduced herself more formally, but the stubborn look on the dwarf's face just made her want to hug him and laugh.
"Lady Belle." The prince swept her a bow and kissed her hand, all charm and grace. But he wasn't staring at her like she was some piece of meat, either, which meant that Belle smiled back at him. "I'm Prince James, and this is Grumpy the dwarf."
She curtseyed. "Welcome to the Dark Castle."
"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Grumpy demanded gruffly.
Prince James shot his companion an exasperated glare, but Belle laughed again. "I live here, of course."
"You what?" Grumpy gaped, and even Prince James looked concerned. "Where's—where's Rumplestiltskin, then? Did you somehow take the—"
"Right here, dearie."
Belle sometimes wondered how he could start talking even whilst in the midst of appearing, and this time she was fairly certain that his voice arrived at least a second prior to his body. But appear he did, on the far side of the room from her and behind both of their visitors. He hadn't bothered to change out of the silk shirt and vest he'd been wearing earlier, but the golden-hued skin was back along with the rest of the features he had worn before the curse was broken.
Rumplestiltskin moved forward lightly, almost prancing, and obviously enjoying the shock on the faces of the prince and the dwarf. Belle supposed that she should scold him for playing with people the way he played with words, but truth be told, she rather enjoyed his somewhat skewed sense of humor. Besides, at least this game was harmless enough. Even if Rumplestiltskin did offend their guests, the prince and the dwarf were at the Dark Castle because they wanted something, and that meant they had no choice but to put up with Rumplestiltskin's eccentricities. Both spun now to face the castle's lord, with the dwarf looking particularly guilty for whatever assumption he had been about to make.
"And I would ask you," Rumplestiltskin continued, his tone making it clear he wasn't requesting anything at all, "to show the Lady of this castle the respect she deserves."
"The what?" Prince James demanded, flabbergasted.
Belle resisted the urge to giggle as Rumplestiltskin reached her side, kissing the hand with the sapphire and woven gold ring he'd crafted just for her. Her husband's eyes were dancing merrily, more brown than amber, and she knew the slight smile on his lips was meant only for her. She squeezed his fingers briefly, pulling in a deep breath to maintain her composure. Belle had always been more down to earth than dignified, but they all had a part to play.
"You do know," Rumplestiltskin had whispered into her hair three nights before, his arms wrapped around her from behind. His lips touched her neck, and Belle shivered. "That you are now the most powerful woman in the world."
"Oh?" In the days since the signing of their marriage contract, Rumplestiltskin had used magic to combine their two rooms into one greater chamber, one featuring an enormous balcony from which Belle loved to watch the sun set over the mountains. The sky was filled with beautiful shades of reds, purples, and yellows, but her husband was quite effectively turning her attention away from the sight.
"You are the only woman in the world who has my power at her fingertips. Anything you want…yours. All you need do is ask."
He'd put it in the marriage contract, this huge concession for a sorcerer who carefully weighed out the cost of every bit of magic he used. He'd offered something more, too, a gift Belle was still wary of and unsure if she wanted to accept. But she understood what both meant, how he was giving himself to her, giving Belle all that he was and trusting her to never abuse that gift. She knew that trust did not come easily to him, and knew that Rumplestiltskin feared allowing himself to be hurt the way he feared nothing else, and she'd promised him, and herself, that she would always be worthy of their love.
"That sounds dangerous," Belle replied, turning her head to steal a quick kiss.
"Exceedingly," he murmured. "But you are also the only woman in the world I know will never abuse it. Or allow me to."
"I trust you." Her faith in him had only been shaken once, when in a towering rage he had tried to throw her out. But Rumplestiltskin hadn't thrown her out, and Belle knew that he too believed their love was worth fighting for.
He chuckled darkly. "One of us has to." But when she made to argue, he shushed her with a kiss. "Even without the curse, sweetheart, I am the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Mortal, now, but still able to turn the others to dust. With that power still at my fingertips…I am still dangerous. There is still much of the monster in me."
"You're not a monster," she retorted fiercely, twisting in his arms to face him. "You've never been a monster. Don't call yourself that."
Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, his expression sad. "Only with you am I not."
His laugh, the old high-pitched and threatening twitter, brought Belle out of her memory of three nights earlier. There was an edge of warning in Rumplestiltskin's voice when he answered Prince James' question. "My wife, of course."
"Your what?" Grumpy gaped, looking sickened, and Belle's temper rose to join with Rumplestiltskin's.
"His wife," she retorted, turning a glare on the dwarf and daring him to say something rude. "As in, we're married."
"Watch out," Rumplestiltskin added, none too helpfully. "She has teeth!"
Belle turned her exasperated look on her husband, despite the fact that she appreciated how her maddeningly overprotective man seemed content to let her fight her own battles. "I am sure that our guests are here for something more important than meeting me," she reminded him. "Shall we fetch some tea for them?"
"Oh, no." Turning, Rumplestiltskin sprawled in the chair she had vacated. "They won't be staying long. They're here about poor little Snow White, languishing in King George's dungeon."
The look on Prince James' face was enough to tell Belle that this man was Snow's infuriating prince, the one she'd mentioned to Belle and Red, and the one who Rumplestiltskin said would eventually marry her (and who Rumplestiltskin had told her, in a fit of snickering, really wasn't a prince at all). Clearly James was as smitten as Snow, because his stricken and desperate expression reminded Belle of herself when Regina held her True Love.
"You have to help us save her," James said immediately. "Please. She was captured because of me, and King George would rather kill her than let us be together. Or he'll hand her to Queen Regina, which is even worse."
"Your story tugs at my heart strings, Your Highness, but I can't just wave my hand and rescue your princess," Rumplestiltskin replied, pointing a finger at Prince James. "All magic comes at a price, and that's one you can't pay."
Belle bit back a frown. Contrary to what he was saying, Rumplestiltskin probably could do just that, but he'd also explained to Belle that True Love was made stronger by the trials that each pair endured. People could merely love strongly, but True Love stood the test of time, weathered battles and loses and pain. True Love was never easy, and was more than plain love; it was a constant struggle as much as it was a constant joy. Her relationship with Rumplestiltskin certainly proved that.
"I'll do whatever it takes," James replied right away. "If my life is required to rescue her, I'll give it. Happily."
"Oh, no. We can't have that." Rumplestiltskin rose, prowling towards James as Grumpy watched warily. "That's the thing about True Love, dearie. You have to live for it to matter. It's the most powerful magic in the world, the only magic powerful enough to break any curse. It must be protected at all costs, so you can't die for her. You have to live for her."
"Then what do you want?" Grumpy demanded. "You'll always help for a price."
Rumplestiltskin grinned. "We're getting to that bit." He swung back to face James. "And a word of advice for you. Don't offer to give anything to someone with power. Someone less scrupulous than I would undoubtedly take advantage of that."
"You have scruples?" Grumpy snorted.
"One or two." For a split second, his gaze drifted to meet Belle's, and she couldn't help giving him a small smile. Then Rumplestiltskin swung back to their visitors, all business. "But I can't do the work for you. Do you believe she's worth fighting for?"
"Of course!" James replied even as the dwarf shot Rumplestiltskin another dirty look.
"Do you think we'd be visiting you otherwise?"
Rumplestiltskin giggled again, and Belle could tell he was enjoying the dwarf's attitude almost as much as she was. She knew he wasn't too fond of dwarves on principle—they associated too often with fairies for his tastes—but this one seemed different, even to Belle's inexperienced eyes.
"I can't get you in," her husband told the prince and the dwarf, despite the fact that he could, "but I can help with the exit plan. You'll have to fight your way to your princess, but once you find her, you can escape with this."
Extending his right hand, Rumplestiltskin gestured simply, generating a small puff of green smoke. When the smoke cleared, he held a painting of a forest, mounted in an ornate oval frame. The picture was relatively small, easy enough to hide in a pack or a saddlebag, and Belle recognized it immediately as one of the many magical-but-useless-to-Rumplestiltskin items that had been gathering dust in one of the several storage rooms at the base of his favorite tower. The picture had been buried under two solid feet of gold thread when she'd found it, and Belle had almost been sucked right into the portal when she dropped it.
The expression on Rumplestiltskin's face when she got her foot stuck in the portal and had to call him for help had been priceless. Or, it would have been hilarious if Belle had not run afoul of the painted portal on her third day in the Dark Castle, back when she'd been pretty convinced he'd turn her into something nasty for breaking his things.
"A painting?" Grumpy said dubiously.
"A portal," Rumplestiltskin corrected him. "Drop it on the floor, give it a slight twist, jump right in, and you'll find yourself safe and sound in the forest, well away from ol' George and Regina both."
"What do you want for it?" Prince James asked, obviously surprised to be offered an object of such great power.
"Oh, it's not a gift. This is a loan, dearie. I want it back." Portals, Rumplestiltskin had warned Belle the day she stuck her foot in one and thereby wedged it open, worked both ways. The last thing any intelligent magic user wanted was to leave one in the hands of the uninitiated, because those fools were more likely to contaminate both ends than the leave matters well enough alone.
"Fine," James replied decisively, and Belle could see why Snow loved him. She'd never even caught a glimpse of them together, but knew that they fit like missing pieces to the same puzzle.
"And"—typically, Rumplestiltskin held a finger up with a flourish—"I want something from each of you."
"From each of us? Isn't that a bit steep?" The dwarf got in before Prince James could agree.
"Take it or leave it. That's the deal."
The two exchanged a glance and, finally, a shrug. Belle could tell they were going to agree even before James sighed: "What do you want?"
"Easy. From you, a few hairs off your pretty little head." That was to James, and then he turned to Grumpy. "And from you, a name."
"Why do you want one of my hairs?" James asked even as Grumpy started to look worried.
"What name do you want?"
"My business," Rumplestiltskin told James, but he answered the dwarf a bit more honestly. "Because killing fairies is a bit of a hobby of mine, and I'd like to know which one to avoid."
"You what?" Had James not grabbed Grumpy, Belle thought the dwarf might have launched himself at her husband and tried to tear him limb from limb. The sudden appearance of fury shocked her into taking a step backwards, noticing how although Rumplestiltskin's relaxed posture never changed, his left hand dropped ever so slightly, almost as if to protect her. "You leave her alone, you—you—"
"If your love was in danger from me, I'd hardly be asking you her name now, would I?" Rumplestiltskin countered nonchalantly. "I'll even give you my word not to harm her, if you like. But I am terribly curious about the fairy Rheul Gorm convinced you to pretend you don't love…Dreamy."
Grumpy flinched, yet plowed on bravely: "Dwarves can't fall in love."
"Of course they don't. Neither do monsters, and yet here we are."
Belle's breath caught on that admission. Would the other two catch it, and why had Rumplestiltskin volunteered that? It wasn't that she would have minded if he'd chosen to shout their love from the rooftops, but he was the one who had insisted that they keep their True Love a secret. Why mention it now?
"I want your word," Grumpy snarled.
"Granted. I hereby swear that no harm—or death, dismemberment, or otherwise damaging action—will befall your fairy from my hands. Or my magic."
It was a more thorough promise than he usually made, which told Belle that he hadn't ever meant harm to at least one particular fairy, and that could only tell her one thing. This dwarf, this Grumpy—who, judging from Rumplestiltskin's tone, was once called something else—has found True Love. Her husband did have a habit of tracking each True Love couple, and had long before he'd met her. His fascination with the topic was a mystery she was still working to uncover, but Belle could wait before asking.
Grumpy hesitated, but a pleading look from James finally loosened his lips.
"Nova," he said gruffly. "Her name is Nova."
"Excellent!" Rumplestiltskin bounded forward, using his long nails to pluck a trio of hairs off of James' head as the prince yelped. Then he tossed the painting at James, who caught it hurriedly. "Off you go, then! You have a princess to rescue."
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has kept reading this story despite my erratic posting rate! Next up, Rumplestiltskin comes up with a project for Belle, and then Belle receives a visit from a certain fairy.
In the meantime, what do you think the significance is of these snippets of a different future Rumplestiltskin is seeing? Let me know what you think!