Chapter Twelve—Her new project fit her far better than being a maid ever had. Not that Belle hadn't done her best to be a good maid, even if duties of cooking and cleaning had been relatively new to her, given the station she'd enjoyed as the daughter of a powerful knight, but she hadn't really been the stuff from which excellent servants were made. Of course, Belle had discovered early on that Rumplestiltskin didn't need someone to clean up after him so much as he needed companionship, and she was far more suited to making friends with a difficult and lonely monster than she was to cleaning his castle. Still, though she was more than happy to spend the rest of her life with him, the Dark Castle was rather empty when people didn't show up seeking deals, which left Belle bored.

There were only so many books a girl could read, after all, before she went crazy in the quiet. She'd been less inclined to complain before their original failed kiss. Before Belle had known for certain that Rumplestiltskin felt the same way she did, it seemed foolish to upset their uncertain friendship. Now, however, she was willing to do battle with him. She hadn't won yet on the subject of a staff for the Dark Castle, but in the process Belle had discovered something better.

Rather, her often infuriating yet strangely thoughtful husband had come up with it for her, and she'd spent almost a week absolutely engrossed. Now it was her turn to forget to eat and forget to sleep the way Rumplestiltskin usually did when his attention was absorbed by some project. He'd complained, of course, but mostly left her to her own devices, understanding that when Belle focused on a project, dissuading her was almost impossible. After all, hadn't her father discovered that soon after he'd taught her to read? But the Time Clock Dragon Rumplestiltskin had acquired in a deal was even better than a book; it could show her actual history! And it certainly wasn't her fault that Rumplestiltskin had suggested Belle use it to become a magical historian of sorts, recording events that oral history had long since forgotten in addition to those taking place now.

"Sweetheart, it's not that I mind cooking," her husband said six days after giving her the Time Clock Dragon. "But I would like some of your attention. Every now and then."

He'd brought her dinner an hour ago and Belle had picked at it until she'd gotten distracted by taking notes. Now Rumplestiltskin whisked the half-eaten remnants of her meal away with a wave of one hand and sat down next to her on the couch that sat in front of the Time Clock Dragon. Then he waved a hand at her new toy and the contraption stopped moving, freezing the magically-animated figures in the midst of their rendition of the Third Ogre War.

"Rumple!" Belle turned to glare at him, pushing her guilty feelings aside. "It was just getting—"

"It'll still be there in the morning," her husband countered reasonably. "And you, my dear Belle, are going to turn into a pumpkin if you don't step away from this sometime soon."

She snorted. "That's only a legend. No one actually turns into a pumpkin because they wait too long to stop doing something. In fact, you should know that better than anyone."

"Ah, but you're forgetting something," he said with a grin, his eyes dancing as one long finger bopped Belle on the nose. "Counterfact: I turn people into pumpkins if they sit in front of a Time Clock Dragon for too long. Your logic lacks in imagination."

"You wouldn't," Belle pouted.

"Wouldn't I?" Rumplestiltskin chuckled, and the laugh wasn't terribly unlike the old high-pitched giggle. "I'm still recovering from my curse. Darkness is like an addiction. And without you to keep me straight…I might be naughty."

"I'm sitting right here."

"Ignoring me."

The words came out half-whine, half-taunt, but it was his comical expression that made Belle giggle. And relent—a little, anyway. The feeling of guilt welled back up. Usually, it faded because Rumplestiltskin retreated after insisting she eat, letting Belle get her fill of her new and fascinating toy. This time it lingered because he did, and Belle couldn't bury herself in research again.

"I have been ignoring you, haven't I?" she asked quietly.

His answering smile was soft. "A little."

"I'm sorry. I—" Belle bit her lip, and tried to come up with an explanation that was as honest as it was heartfelt. Barely a month had passed since their kiss had broken Rumplestiltskin's curse, and here she was ignoring him for a shiny new toy.

"Got engrossed. I know," Rumplestiltskin finished the sentence for her. "I did give you the Time Clock Dragon, love. I figured this would happen, at least for a while. All jokes aside, though…people have wasted away watching the world through this metal beastie. I trust your willpower will be up to the task of tearing you away."

Belle vaguely remembered her husband warning her about the potential for addiction that the Time Clock Dragon presented, but at the time she'd been too excited to worry much about such mundane things. Now she only felt even more embarrassed. "Or you can trust that you'll pull me away when you get bored. Or lonely."

"Bored, sweetheart. Always bored." His reply was light, but Belle saw the way his eyes flicked to the side when she had implied he was lonely. Rumplestiltskin never liked to admit how alone he'd felt before Belle had joined him in this empty castle, but they both knew that he'd been terribly isolated. Belle didn't comment on that, however; why bother when he'd try to deny it? Instead, she leaned in to kiss him lightly.

"Of course you are," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. "We've hardly acted like proper newlyweds, have we, what with me ignoring you and all?"

Rumplestiltskin chuckled again, waggling his eyebrows as his hands found her hips. Immediately, his thumbs started tracing circles through the cloth, and Belle started wishing that there wasn't a dress in the way. If there was one thing marriage had taught her, it was that Rumplestiltskin's hands were talented. "Oh, I survived it. Barely. Though I am feeling a tad…abandoned."

"Then I shall have to make that up to you." Belle shifted closer to him and raised an eyebrow of her own. "If you have any ideas how I might…?"

"I think it's a safe bet to say that I have several," he breathed, and now it was Rumplestiltskin's turn to kiss her, leaving Belle breathless with desire.

Had she imagined that it could be like this? True Love was never easy, of course, but when she'd fallen for him, had Belle ever imagined that the layers of the monster could peel back to reveal a man who loved so very deeply? She had hoped for their future, and Belle would have loved Rumplestiltskin no matter how he turned out after the curse was broken. She would have loved him if he'd remained the Dark One forever. No. She had never so much as dreamed of this, of a life with a man who she loved. Even if he did drive her crazy sometimes.

This was clearly going to be one of those moments, Belle realized as Rumplestiltskin pulled back, mischief dancing in his eyes. "A hair," he said.

"A what?"

"A hair. Or two or three, preferably. From your head." He was trying to look solemn, but the maddening man had to know exactly what he was doing to her. Belle even knew what he'd want her hairs for—and on second thought, was surprised that he hadn't asked sooner—but now? Really? "That's how you can make it up to me."

"Is that all?" Belle glowered.

"Did you think I'd ask for something else, dearie?" The gleam in his eyes said that he already knew the answer to that question, and she smacked in him the shoulder with her right hand.

"Don't call me that."

Rumplestiltskin only used that word on Belle when he was feeling nasty or needed to mock her, and Belle hated it. She knew that he called people 'dearie' usually when he was out to prove to them how stupid they were, and she usually didn't fall in that category. Now, even though she was feeling a little guilty for ignoring him, combining that term of not-endearment with his obviously intent to infuriate her only ticked her off. A little. If Belle had been truly furious, she'd have stormed out of the room or told him to get lost.

"Ow." He pouted.

"You deserved that."

"Perhaps I did." His smile went charming again as Rumplestiltskin cocked his head slightly and studied her. Slowly, he took her right hand in his left, lifting it to kiss the back lightly. "A hair or two, my lady?"

Belle sat back and gave him a smug smile. "You'll have to convince me."

Needless to say, he was up to the challenge.


Several mornings later, trouble arrived. Belle was out in the garden of the Dark Castle, picking cherries. Rumplestiltskin had chided her for the wasted effort, pointing out that he could pull a thousand cherries off the trees in the time it took her to pick a dozen, but she enjoyed her time outside. Besides, the cherries tasted better when she picked them herself. Her husband laughed but didn't stop her, instead retreating up to his workroom with a distant look on his face. He'd been muttering all morning about a pair of visions he'd had that didn't make sense, and Belle had no doubt that he was going to spend the morning trying to straighten that out.

Had she tried to stick around for that, Belle would only have been bored and in the way. She also knew that she couldn't spend any longer in front of the Time Clock Dragon unless she really wanted to lose herself in it, so she'd chosen to come outside. Later, she'd go into town and do a bit of shopping…and start asking around to see if there was anyone in town who was interested in coming to the Dark Castle. It had taken weeks of convincing, but Belle had finally talked Rumplestiltskin into hiring some staff for the castle. She'd worked out the bare minimum number of people required to form a decent household, and already had a few from back in Avonlea in mind, but there were probably some people down in town who would be willing, too.

Much to her surprise, when Belle had first visited the town that owed fealty to the lord of the Dark Castle, she'd found that Rumplestiltskin treated them very well. Although the townspeople were wary of him, they also trusted him. He was sometimes an indifferent overlord, leaving them to their own devices and only coming to settle disputes that the magistrates could not handle, but he was always fair in his judgments. Rumplestiltskin always overpaid for the goods his magic whisked away to the castle, and he didn't tax the town at all or send their children off to war. Oldtown was a surprisingly happy place, and Belle always enjoyed her time there.

For now, however, she just wanted to pick cherries and throw grins at Rumplestiltskin every time he thought he was being sneaky and watching her through the tower window. He's really not as subtle as he thinks he is, she thought with a smile, turning back to the cherry tree. Fortunately, she'd remembered to bring a stepladder along this time. Considering the bruises she'd suffered climbing up this very tree a month earlier, Rumplestiltskin's insistence that she use the ladder made a lot of sense.

Of course, she fell off the ladder the moment an unexpected voice spoke from behind her, landing right on her rear end. Cherries spilled everywhere as her basket up-ended, luckily landing around Belle and not under her, otherwise even magic might not have been able to get the stains out.

"Good morning, child."

Picking herself up off the ground, Belle whirled to face the intruder, brushing dirt off her skirts. No, she hadn't been lucky. There were smashed cherries decorating the hem, now. She was glad that she'd worn the old blue and white dress instead of something nicer, planning to change before she headed into town. Much to her surprise, her ever-secretive husband actually had introduced her to Oldtown's magistrates as his wife, and Belle had no intention of looking like anything less than the part. Sometimes she found it odd that he refused to let the world know that his curse had been broken by True Love's kiss yet had no problem admitting that he'd married her—but in her heart Belle knew that the two matters were mostly unrelated. Nor did either have anything to do with her unexpected visitor.

Belle had never seen a fairy before, but the small woman floating in the air in front of her had to be one. She was outright tiny, but had the expected wings and ethereal glow. Her visitor's long hair was a dark brown, and she was dressed in a sparkly blue dress that did nothing to emphasize modesty. Peering at her curiously, Belle cocked her head slightly, meeting the fairy's frank gaze brazenly.

"Can I help you?" she asked after a moment.

"I am the Blue Fairy," her visitor said with a benevolent smile. Why did she wave her hands like that while she was flying? It made her look like a fish treading water.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Belle replied, offering a slight curtsy. It didn't pay to be impolite, after all. "My name is Belle."

A friendly smile: "I know who you are, Lady Belle of Avonlea. And I am here to help you."

"With what?"

For the life of her, Belle couldn't think of anything she wanted help with. The last two and a half months had been the happiest of her life, and she couldn't imagine how a fairy might make it any better. The use of her old name grated on her a little, though. I'm the lady of the Dark Castle, now, even if it's not a traditional fiefdom. The lands between here and Oldtown are far more prosperous than those my father rules, even if smaller in area.

"You poor child," the small woman breathed, oozing pity that put Belle's teeth on edge. "You have faced your trials bravely, but the time for that is at an end. We will help you escape."

Belle stared. "Help me what?"

"To escape the Dark One." Now the Blue Fairy was looking at her like she was slightly stupid, and Belle's hands found her hips as she glared back. "Did you not give yourself to him in exchange for the safety of your people?"

"Of course I did."

"And you have suffered long enough. Come, child. He will notice my presence soon—I cannot remain amidst so much darkness for long." A tiny hand was held out to her, but Belle could only stare at it, wondering where in the world this fairy got her information from. Whoever told her about Belle's situation was seriously behind the times! "I will take you home to your father."

A part of Belle—the mischievous, naughty part of her that enjoyed Rumplestiltskin's crooked sense of humor and dark quips—almost wanted to take the fairy up on her offer. She could let the tiny blue woman take her back to Avonlea, say hello to her father and friends, and then call on Rumplestiltskin to bring her home again. He'd be a bit annoyed to have to use magic so frivolously (or so he'd say, but he was the same man who had covered their bed in rose petals two mornings ago just to make Belle swim her way out), but he certainly would understand. Alas, her more responsible side won out, and she squared her shoulders, looking the Blue Fairy in the eye.

"I'm not suffering here," Belle replied honestly. "And you really don't know anything about this, do you?"

"I know you sacrificed yourself, and that is enough. Your extraordinary courage has earned you protection."

"Protection from what?" And where were you when I thought I needed protecting? Is this how the fairies work, coming by after we humans have done all the hard work and trying to clean up after us? Belle scowled. She didn't need rescuing and never had, and disliked the implication that she was some soft girl who couldn't fight for herself.

"From the Dark One, of course."

"He's not—" Belle barely stopped her angry reply in time. No, she couldn't tell a fairy that, particularly when her memory was reminding her that the Blue Fairy was supposed to be the most powerful fairy of all. If she didn't already know, Belle certainly wasn't going to tell her. Instead, she crossed her arms and raised her chin defiantly. "I love him."

Had she hit the Blue Fairy with a club, Belle could not have knocked her back harder. Then a sickeningly pitying look crossed her face. "Oh, you poor child. He's enchanted you to think that, but we can cure you of that. All you need do is take my hand, and everything will be all right."

"Everything is all right, thank you very much. I'm married to Rumplestiltskin. Happily."

"You can't possibly mean—"

"Of course I am. What do you think I am, some terrified and blushing girl who needs rescuing?" Belle demanded. Of course, she'd used Rumplestiltskin's name on purpose, knowing that he'd probably start paying attention when she did so. She wasn't afraid of this fairy, but Belle was wary. "And even if I wasn't happy here, I wouldn't have been such a fool to break a deal with Rumplestiltskin. I made the deal with him. My father didn't. And it's my choice to stay."

"How dare he make you marry him!" the fairy hissed, and now she looked truly angry. "Even for him, this is beyond the pale."

"He didn't make me do anything," Belle snapped back. "I told you that it was my choice. He let me out of the deal before that, and he's not what you think he is. I know him, and I know that his heart is true. I don't need—or want—rescuing."

"I cannot help you if you will not help yourself." But Blue looked a little shaken in the face of Belle's determination.

"Good. Then I won't need to call on Rumplestiltskin to rescue me from you." Belle knew her smile was smug, but she'd had enough of being treated like some idiot child.

"You don't know what you're doing…"

"I know exactly what I'm doing." Bending over to pick her basket up, Belle forced herself to sound more congenial. "Now, if you're only here to tell me what horrible choices I have made, you're welcome to leave my home. Immediately."

Stunned, the Blue Fairy left, vanishing into the sunny sky while Belle returned to picking cherries.


A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter—my muse just hasn't wanted to concentrate on this story when it has the complex tale that is Original Powers to concentrate on.

Next up—Rumplestiltskin and Belle receive two visitors (can you guess who?) and Rumplestiltskin wonders how Belle will feel if he lets Regina cast the Dark Curse.