One of the first things she'd learned in the castle was that he was an early riser and always released her first thing so she could get started just as early as he did. Every morning since she first arrived, she had awoken to the sound of the lock on her door clicking open. The obnoxious sound of the lock would wake her up immediately, making her long for the days when she had slept soundly until her body naturally woke her up when it was ready. It was perhaps the one thing she had yet to accept about her new life.
But this morning was different. There was no noise to startle her awake and when she looked around her room she found her door slightly ajar at the angle she'd left it last night, and as hard as she tried, she just couldn't remember him locking it. Surprised, she fumbled out of bed and smiled as she examined the door, as if she would be able to see if she had just been deep in sleep and hadn't heard the lock or if he really hadn't bothered. She tried to cook the breakfast without thinking about it, but it kept creeping back into her head. Reading anything, anytime she wanted? Sleeping until she saw fit? No more locks, her comings and goings her own responsibility again? Could he really be learning to trust her? Or had his effort to avoid her presence finally peeked?
The clock chiming startled her from her thoughts and like she had for the past week she carried two plates of breakfast up to him at the proper predictable time. It wasn't so much punctuality he cared about as habit. As their latest "habit" dictated, neither one of them said anything as she sat a plate in front of him then grabbed her own and sat down with her back to him in the arm chair that he kept by the fire. But even though they didn't share any kind of conversation through the awkward silence there was a relaxing feeling that came with the clanking and clattering of silverware that wasn't her own.
She really didn't know what to make of their sudden silences, they'd had no problem yelling at each other before Robin Hood. It was strange, it made her wonder sometimes why he had wanted her there at all? She was his caretaker, but in some ways she was beginning to feel like he was hers as well. Lately, she'd begun to notice certain things that gave her pause, things she hadn't noticed before crept into her mind during the silent times.
It started, she supposed, when he had refused to turn her over to that monster of a Sheriff. Anyone else might have seen her as a tradable commodity, but he hadn't. He'd protected her, and it said more about his true nature than he would ever admit to. Then there was the library of course. That had a been a big one. But there were other, smaller ways she was seeing it. She'd never tended to the fire and yet it was always blazing when she came in, keeping her warm against the bitter chill of the mountains. Once or twice she even caught them flaring to life the moment she walked inside, as if he'd bewitched them to ignite at her presence. And then there was this. Although she knew that the arm chair she ate in was his, he never complained when she first sat down in it to eat. And he didn't say anything about how she now read here every night after dinner.
She stared into the fireplace and finally she heard the scrape of the chair legs and the slam of the door that signaled his wordless departure. With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the chair and looked at the ceiling, letting her thoughts drift over the awkward silences and small meaningful gestures. He never thanked her, but she never thanked him either. Sometimes she felt like she was living in a house with a very solid looking ghost. Maybe it was easier that way. There was no tension or ill will between the two of them, not anymore. Their arguments and spiteful deeds seemed to be forgotten once he'd given her that library. And they seemed to have come to a silent agreement that she wouldn't get in the way of his dealings as long as he didn't flaunt them about. But being in the same room together was still something neither appeared to be able to master. Was it a good sign or a bad one?
She shook the thought from her head. Breakfast was over and there were chores to be done. And so, she began her morning routine. She took their dishes back to the dark kitchen and set them to soak. Then she went back to her dungeon room, setting aside the blankets that she'd been stockpiling for the cold nights to come she made the pitiful excuse for a bed, and picked up the book that had fallen between the folds. She gathered her cleaning supplies and walked the long way up to her library. It was her favorite part of the week. Exchanging a finished book for a new one always put a beaming smile on her face. But the promise of new adventure would have to wait for a later time. For now, she had chores to do.
She was now on a mission to bring light and life back to the haunting gray walls around her. She'd been working her way from the topmost floor of the castle to the bottom. It was large so there was only a room or two that she could get done in a day, but tea time broke up the work nicely. If she was working at a good pace, she could usually do one room in the morning and then the other after tea time.
The extensive cleaning that they required was exhausting and she longed for the day when all she had to do was light maintenance work. But she was determined to get it all done. There were only two more rooms to do on this floor, she was looking forward to being able to move on to another tomorrow. She did the same thing to all the rooms, nothing lavish just the basics. She cleaned, dusted, and straightened the room. She stripped the bed to wash the linens and remake them the next day. And made sure to pull all the curtains back adding light to his beloved 'dark castle'.
As she heard the chime of the clock telling her it was time to prepare their tea she looked proudly around the room. Nearly fit for a king, or guests at least. Not that they'd ever have any. Last but not least he went to the windows and threw back the curtains to greet the sun. But instead of being enveloped in light she found herself in a cloud of dust so thick she sputtered and when she reared back she tripped over her skirts, adding another rip to her once elegant attire as she fell to the floor. She coughed and rubbed her eyes free of the dust. The plume began to fade into the floor and she looked down at herself. It was everywhere: in her hair, on her skin, and on, yes even in, her gown.
Her pride was doused by a sudden wave of sorrow for how far she had fallen, literally and figuratively. It usually didn't bother her. If she didn't focus on it she never thought of it but sometimes it crept up on her without warning. Elegant princess to overly dressed maid. It was a long fall indeed. She was fighting to hold back tears when she heard another chime of the clock, reminding her that she was behind schedule. She was grateful for the sudden distraction, it was enough to let her get a hold of herself again. This wasn't who she was: sitting here about to weep because she'd fallen down in the dust. No! She wasn't going to sulk in her own misery, she was going to go and get tea together and tonight she would repair the damage to her only item of dress, wishing that it was better suited for the tasks at hand. She bravely swallowed the lump in her throat, stood up, brushed herself off as best she could and left the room to begin the tea.
Hurrying, she started the tea and grabbed a bucket of water to scrub her face and shoulders clean of the debris she had uncovered. The dress was a hopeless case but it had been for a long time. She did her best to make it presentable again but gave up as the tea was ready. How she had managed to clean herself and prepare the tea in time was a mystery to her, but she brought it up to the room only a few minutes behind schedule. He looked her over as she carried it in. She'd seen the look that was on his face before; it was as though he was seeing her for the very first time. It was as if she amazed him or dazzled him somehow. Like each time he was surprised that she hadn't left yet. It was looks like that which made this arrangement uncomfortable, that made her blush because somehow she felt like he could see into her like no one ever had before.
She set the tray down, watching him pick up the chipped cup as she took her place at the fire, book in her lap, enjoying her few moments of break. But instead of reading today she stared into the fire, letting the warmth soak into her skin, chasing away the cold, and pushing the sorrow she had uncovered upstairs back down into its hidden crevice.
"Servanthood not everything you hoped it would be?" he said so suddenly in his high pitched voice it surprised her. In fact, she glanced around the room making sure no one else was there and that he was in fact talking to her. When she met his gaze again he lifted his eye brows, still waiting on an answer. He gestured to her, smiling, "You look as though you lost a fight with a dusty curtain." How he always knew what she had been doing escaped her. She simply assumed that it was magic of some kind, or maybe part of his ability to see into the future, or maybe he really was just that good at guessing.
"It's nothing I can't handle," she assured him, putting a stop to his questioning. She sat back in her chair, fumbling with her tattered and foul smelling garment, trying to act as though his words weren't getting to her when she had thought them herself only a short while ago. He didn't move, just stared into the fire with her, from the corner of her eye she could see him casting strange glances at her as he sipped his tea. He usually partook from his seat at the table. And she was glad when she finally saw him drain the chipped cup and swiftly leave the room.
She let the air out of her lungs, and glanced at the door he departed from; being sure he was gone before she took the tea back to the kitchen, his words still ringing in her ear. The truth of the matter was that she normally didn't have these kind of issues. Servanthood actually was something that she felt she was very good at. And remarkable as it was, sometimes it was even something that she found she enjoyed. The cleaning gave her an opportunity to be busy and to make the castle into what she wanted it to be. Any other tea time she would have told him that herself, he'd just picked a wrong time to ask the question.
She was being silly, and over thinking it. He hadn't meant to make fun of her, he had merely been trying to defuse that strange feeling in the empty space between them. He'd tried to have a conversation, and she'd passed it up! Maybe he sought her company far more than she realized. Somehow instead of putting her mind at ease, it made her feel even worse. It wouldn't happen again. Next time she would be ready, she would welcome it in fact. Maybe it was the only way to change the current status of their interactions.
With the sun sinking she walked back up to where she had left off, and moved into the next room, refusing to let the previous events disrupt her. She followed the routine, opening the curtains first this time, a little more hesitantly, to let the light in. She stripped the bed, finding a nice blanket that she could use to pad the small wooden bed in her cell, and set the sheets aside for the wash. She righted the tables and dusted them off until they gleamed. Then she went to the large closet, opened the doors...and stopped with a surprised gasp.
She found the usual, of course, old shoes and musty old jackets. But hanging up beside them was a dress, and the other items paled in comparison to it. It was the first dress she had seen in the castle. It wasn't dusty like the others and it didn't smell like it had been sitting there forgotten for very long. It was beautiful. Blue, like the color of the clear sky up in these mountains. The blue she always favored because it matched her eyes so well. In fact, it almost reminded her of the lace blue dress she'd left behind in her fathers palace. Same cut, same color, if it weren't for the missing petticoats and lace she'd have said they were identical. Timidly she reached out and touched the linen. It was softer than her dress had been, but also made of sturdier material. Next to it was a plain white undershirt, looking cleaner than snow, also soft but strong, and below it a pair of cream shoes.
They were simple but they seemed to enchant her. She removed them from the closet, looking around the room, expecting to find him looking over her shoulder. They were perfect. Far more suitable than the gown she was wearing now, although the short sleeves wouldn't do her any good outside, not in this cold weather. Nevertheless, it was clean and she laid them out on the freshly stripped bed. Was it just her desires playing tricks on her, or did it look like they would fit her perfectly. She took a step back, away from temptation. She shouldn't. It wasn't proper. Blankets were one thing, but this?! If a maid in her father's castle had taken something like this, even if it was forgotten, there would be dire consequences! But...she couldn't help but feel like it was meant for her! Just as her library had been!
She looked down at her own gown. It was nowhere near its former glory. Covered in dust, the mud from the long journey into the woods along the bottom, ripped, torn, and tattered, the puff of the skirts was scratchy and made doing her job more difficult. The jewels remained, but somehow they lost their value compared to the cleaner simpler garment before her now.
No, she really shouldn't. But she found she couldn't help herself. Slowly she stripped herself of the muck she wore. She put on the shirt, making adjustments as she went to suit her own preferences. She was able to leave her stockings on; they'd been protected by the larger gown since she got here, and she found that the skirt settled perfectly over her waist before stepping into the tan shoes. Finally she pulled the corset on, and tied it with the strong black thread. She couldn't get rid of her mother's necklace, she refused to do that, but she found that it suited the outfit perfectly.
She was comfortable. Possibly for the first time since she'd arrived, she felt like she could breathe, she felt right. It was amazing what a clean set of clothes could do. She thought that she would feel like she was betraying her old self but instead she felt as though she was embracing a new self, a self that actually belonged here, the kind that saved friends instead of watched them die, the self that was perfectly happy to cook and clean. If she didn't know any better she would have thought that he had placed this here just for her.
The thought crashed into her like a rolling wave. Was that where he had gone after tea? Did he do this for her? Like he lit the fires? Like he turned a blind eye when she made herself comfortable in his chair? Was that why it was so clean and perfect? So fresh? Or had this truly just been a coincidence? She couldn't work anymore. She was suddenly excited at the prospect and hurried downstairs to sit in the arm chair. It was still too early for him to be finished with his work and go to spin, but she wanted to be there when he did. She wanted to see his face when he saw her. Curiosity clawed at her, she had to know. Was she right? Had he done this for her? Or would he be angry at her taking what wasn't hers? She read as she waited, her eyes only taking in every other word, unable to keep her mind off of what would happen when he saw her in it. Would he be mad? Would he care? Would he think she looked just as beautiful in this as she had in the ball gown?
She gawked at her own thoughts. Why would she care about that?! His opinions concerning her didn't matter to her. Did they?
She heard the door open just after sunset and she stilled with frightful anticipation. Out of the corner of her eye he appeared walking over to the spinning wheel just as usual. But when he realized she was there, he stopped. She looked up. They stared for a while. He took in the sight of her. She held her breath, bracing herself for his reaction. She watched him, waiting, as he looked, his eyes roaming over her. Both daring the other to make the first move.
When the clock chimed they both jumped. He looked away. She breathed again. As quickly as it had begun their trance was broken. Quietly he sat at his spinning wheel and began creating his gold, paying her no heed, just like any day. She glanced between him and the fire, and then sat back in the chair relieved of all tension that she had felt. The new book rested against her new skirts, and she finally began to to truly read. It was quiet, but it didn't feel strange like it had this morning. The squeal of the wheel, his presence, somehow it didn't make her feel awkward...but comfortable, safe, peaceful even. She wasn't sure how it could happen so fast, but in a matter of seconds their deafening silence had turned to companionable space. It was remarkable, and it felt strangely like home, maybe even more relaxing than she had been in her father's palace.
She shook her head at the stray thought. Out with the old, in with the new. A smile passed over her lips and she sat back in her chair and returned to page one to start over again before dinner.
Yes, things were definitely different.
When I first started writing this fiction no chapter was requested more than this chapter. How did Belle get her blue dress. Well...I didn't want Rumple to just flat out give it to her, at this part of their relationship he doesn't really seem to do that and it was out of character. So I hope you'll find this an acceptable way he could do that, he gave it to her without givingit to her, he made it for her to make her feel comfortable without having to make himself uncomfortable as well. I also wanted to have a chapter like this, where Belle was just having a bad day and was in a bad mood because of something so small as falling over because in my mind it just makes her more human. It shows her flaws and what I like about the bad mood and then the gift afterwards is that this becomes a chapter that shows more of Rumple's growth than her own. He reaches out to her possibly in the only way he knows how as he gets to know her because Rumple isn't just Belle's mystery; she is his mystery as well!
Thank you Skitzoeinhoven for your latest review! I always worry people won't like those filler chapters but I keep putting them in because I just feel like they are terribly important no matter what goes into it. Even if it's something small like eating dinner together, I think it's something we would have liked to have seen that just wouldn't adapt well to the TV show but I can work with for my fiction! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well...filler or not. Peace and Happy Reading!