A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing, Lovelies! So, another long chapter... It would have been two chapters but for the life of me I couldn't spilt it up :X
~8~8~
For one singular horrid moment, stuck amidst the eternal passages of time, Belle stood frozen in place by the gruesome scene she had stumbled upon. The beauty could only stare in a numb mind gripping horror that slashed deeply into her heart, at the limp vestige of her master lying in a glossy ebony pool that soaked into the cracks and crevices of main halls stone floor.
After all he had wrought upon her for the last week with no end of his despot rule against her in sight, the chestnut haired beauty's first natural instinct was to rush to the huge double doors and run until the castle was a nothing but a faint ominous speck on the cold horizon of a winter night. That, however, would have been cowardly, uncaring Belle, neither of which she was by any means.
No matter what he had done in his frothing fury towards her, the master who had gathered her a treasure trove of books and had crafted her a cloak with his own two hands overruled any thoughts of the fiend who dragged her through the corridors and locked her up in the frigid prison at days end. There, lying with large black splats of blood smearing his gray-gold form, she saw the kind man flecked with gore, not the harsh master.
"Rum!" His name burst from her full lips in a cry of alarm that spurred her out of her paralysis and sent her blood fevering like the fire of Hades through her veins.
The numbness melted from her body as she raced over to the still, gore ridden grotesque figure of the Dark One. She knelt in the little puddle of his warm brackish dark blood, oblivious to the fact that it sopped into the fabric of her blue dress and stained her flesh. Her delicate, but trembling hands dug into the high quality leather of his vest as she gripped at his lanky shoulders to pull him on to his back.
Between her frenzied thoughts of terror staring at the mess that washed his wiry figure and assessing his hurts, Belle's mind spun in frenzied pondering. Who could have done such damage to the most powerful man in all the realms. Who could have such power? Were they coming to finish the job? How could she protect him?
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as a grunt growled past her lips determinedly; yanking him to his back with one great heave of adrenaline infused strength that coursed through her body.
He lay as still as a fresh corpse and for one breathless moment Belle's heart paused its quaking beat. Her throat tightened in a vice as her hand neared tremulously towards his neck to feel for a pulse. Was he...
Blood suddenly spurted from the Dark One's ash pale lips, flecking them with the blots blackness of his essence that cast an even ghastlier demeanor to his gore tainted features that were furrowed with the torment and agony that suffused his very being. Sweat mingled with blood and some glimmering powder glued his straggly dirty brown hair in a gummy concoction that made it hard to see his face properly through the smears of the odd mixture that swathed and streaked his gray-gold flesh like some macabre war paint.
"Belle..." He croaked breathlessly in a strained wheeze before a groan of pain bubbled from his lips.
"Rum!" Belle echoed again; huge amounts of relief, that at least he was still drawing breath, flitting in her shaky, trepid voice. She felt the scalding sting of tears press against her azure eyes but blinked them back bravely at the weak timbre of his voice. Her hand rested against his gray-gold skinned cheek that felt smooth even though it looked rough; her thumb tracing over the scaly blotched flesh tenderly as if the gesture might ease the pain in some fashion or at least let him know in some warm way she was there. "Oh what happened to you? What do I do?"
A ragged gurgling cough bubbled from his mouth as he just faintly opened his reddened blood smeared ebony eyes weakly, vainly trying to be comprehensible even though the cold claws of darkness beckoned him back to unconsciousness. "Bel…I…dus…fae…" He swallowed dryly, even though gore tore through his throat, attempting to relate his need only to fall prey to another black out that sent him plummeting back into a world of grateful oblivion.
Her sapphire eyes searched his scarred features frantically as if he might spontaneously regain his senses again to tell her what to do for the blistering wounds. They looked like flesh and blood wounds, but she had seen him heal minor cuts and abrasions he fell prey to, along with restoring her to health when she'd come down with a horrid cold. And even if she did believe them truly material hurts that proliferated his ragged figure and tore at his flesh, the thick magic permeating and mingling the blood and his clammy skin told her they were more enchanted pains then physical gashed in his body.
The knowledge that it was indeed wounds of the mystical arts made it far worse, for she barely knew how to mend pains of bone and sinew, much less conjured injuries of wizards and magic! Yet she couldn't allow him to simply bleed out till he no longer woke from his oblivious state. Dark One or no he was her master…her friend and she had bargained to serve him to the best of her powers.
A hard grimace marbled upon her worried features determinedly as the chestnut haired beauty steeled herself while smoothly pulling back her russet tendrils of hair mingling it with his blood, in a loose ponytail to keep out of her way as she got to work. Her eyes flashed with the cold fire of a battle calm that helped steady the nerves that trembled violently within her.
Her hands only mildly shook as they ventured to loose the blood slick buttons to his dark brocade vest to have better access to his torso and gashed arm. Fortunately, it was clear that he had sustained little to no damage below the waist, of that she thanked whatever deity came to mind for such small mercies. She was barely comfortable with stripping him of his shirt even in a harrowing emergency.
Practically ripping open his jerkin her eyes widened in surprise not to see the blotched redness of his oddly hued skin, but the dagger securely strapped to his flesh by a leather harness that laid flush against his form.
The blasted thing that had started it all. Belle felt more than a little hate rise against the ominous inanimate object that had Rum's name scrawled upon it. A part of her was suddenly on her guard wondering if it was all just an elaborate plot to see if she would dare pick the foul dagger up again. Could he be so paranoid about the blade that held his will and life at the very tip of its keen point? Well, if it was a test it was one she failed miserably, she knew rather clearly. Come what may in the aftermath, she had to get it off of him, even if it spelled her doom.
Her hands fumbled for the clasps to the leather sheath that held the dagger in place to his faintly moving chest. She wasted no time in yanking it free and hefting the cold steel in her blood stain palms.
His naked chest was bared before her looking akin to an ancient pagan sacrifice lying before her, as if beckoning to plunge the steel into his heart in a black ritual. A soft soothing voice from the blade curled about her mind, with talons conjured of smoke tempting her with low honeyed words to finish what had been done upon him; to pluck up his power where he had failed to do the nefarious gifts justice and drink the sweet wine of dark magic as his heart stopped its beat and she greedily grabbed the control.
In her minds eye she could see the name etched upon the dagger wisp away as smoke to the wind for her name to be branded in its razor sharp steel with the fire of the dark puissant magic's.
Belle paused for a moment, her breathing intrepid as she stared at the bare flesh, her eyes pinioned on the small area where the heart laid beating in its slow tattoo of flitting life. The prodding intensified from a dull coaxing whisper to a crashing roar that would have put the waves in a gale to shame as she sat staring at his faintly rising torso.
Almost with out a thought the dagger came plunging down; its steel flashing in the sparse light of the room seemingly akin to a devils approving glare.
The daggers sharp edges easily slashed through the remaining leather straps bound to his body along with his dark dragon hide cloak to help make bandages for his hurts.
After that was accomplished the beauty laid the dagger down solemnly on the other side of the magical monsters body, not giving the disturbing pressing thought another speck of her time as she assessed the damage. She would have time to considered and mull over the press of the dagger on her mind, but for now she had a patient to care for.
With the vest gone, the beauty could finally get a picture of the damage around the fiend's bulk. It looked as if only his left arm was hurt with nothing lethal she could see around his heart. But that was just on the outside; what she would or could do about the internal was a completely different matter.
A grim frown curled at her lips as she forced herself not to concentrate on that part before she had to face it; there were to many trouble she had to get to now than worrying over what would come later.
Instead of wringing her hands about what was to come, the beauty busied herself trying to figure out the best way to bandage the ripped tear in the fiends forearm. She was no healer, but being so long entrenched in war with the ogres had made it a necessity to learn a few methods of the healing arts to help in any way she could with the so many wounded that came back from the field of battle.
"Hang on, Rum, I'll be back soon." The beauty promised in a low whisper as she dashed off; her bloodied dress swirling around her ankles as she tore through the darkened halls and headed towards the kitchen like a mad woman.
She was soon back armed with a few make due implements of a white ceramic basin, a dusty bottle of wine that seemed as if it had sat nestled in the same cool corner for all eternity, and a pitcher of water all held clumsily in her grasp as she staggered back towards the unconscious Dark One.
Uncorking the fine wine bottle with her teeth, the beauty sloshed a good dose on one of the strips of cloak she had massacred before slapping it on the wound as an antiseptic to hopefully cleanse the gashed flesh and prevent deadly infection as well as she could.
An ironic frown hinted at her lips as she realized it was probably a good thing he was knocked out. The pain of the fiery alcohol hitting his flesh would have surely made him roar with the ferocity of his infamous namesake of beast.
Black blood mixed with the crimson dredges of wine mingled indiscriminately; spotting and seeping into Belle's dress without regard as she flushed the wound thoroughly twice with the intoxicating liquid. The laps of cool wine hit his flesh like water dousing a blazing wood fire as it inadvertently washed the loathed poisonous fairy dust off his skin; relieving some of the pain that gnawed and gnashed at his arm.
Her clever hands immediately bandaged up the wound neatly, with scraps of his newly decimated cloak, after it had been cleaned and washed; leaving only a tightly tied black wrap that had thankfully stopped the flow of his blood to only an intermittent trickle.
Pouring the clay pitcher of water into the basin, the beauty dipped another scrap of the ruined garb into it to wipe his face clean of the hideous gore marred across his skin scaly features. The caressing cool waters banished the mine dirt and dazzling fairy dust mingled blood and sweat from his pained features, hopefully, Belle prayed fervently, helping relive what little pain the gesture could.
Inside the prone figure of the Dark One, amidst the fathomless blackness of his ancient mind, Rumpel hovered in space, drifting aimlessly in his stupor as pictures and images blending together in a deafening blinding blur that swirled about him without relief. His arms pathetically covered his head trying to defy the sound and noise that enshrouded him and bombarded his small, frail body with accusations and regrets that bit into him worse than the fangs of rabid wolves.
No matter what he did or tried there was no escaping it; no waking from the nightmare that scarred and clawed at him possessively to annihilate and devour him. Was he dead? Had Belle found the blade and decided to be rid of her cruel master sending him into this voided realm of eternal agony with only harsh painful memories as his unwanted companions?
The cool feel of water suddenly jolted him from his nightmarish reprieve, making the pictures dissipated like tendrils of mist against the hot summer sun. He felt the cold tingling sensation of water droplets brooking across his face momentarily reeling him in back to the land of consciousness like a kind child leads a blind man.
"Thank heaven!" Belle cried joyously as the fiend's onyx eyes wrenched open slowly.
Inside his body was still afire with the motes of good magic attacking him internally even though his arm was only in a throbbing agony instead of the gripping torment that it had once been.
He had to get relief and purge the particles of magical dust from his body before they caused irreparable harm inside of him. "A…apothet…" The Dark One tried to speak only to have his panicked words slurred and half hearted as they spattered weakly from his mouth. His tongue refused to work of its on volition and foggy vagueness wafted around his head with every dulled throbbing pain that beat in him like the steady rhythm of a war drum.
"Your apothecary? Is that what you mean?" Belle inquired desperately; her lovely sapphire eyes searching him intently, wanting any hint of what to do next.
Rum nodded weakly, his head faintly dipping a small fraction to show his agreement. Even with that small weak gesture a nauseating bout of vertigo clamped down upon him sending more pain reeling through his wracked figure. His eyes blurred in torment as he felt the blackness that desired to torture him grab a hold of his faltering consciousness once more.
With its claws dragging him down he forced himself to battle against the press for sweet oblivion for just a few moments longer. "B-blue…bottle…second shel…" He whimpered hoarsely before his words trailed off again as his weakness submitted to the enveloping darkness that greedily devoured him once more.
"Blue bottle, second shelf." Belle repeated resolutely, putting the last word together quickly. Hope filtered into her, casting out the desperation that tinted her spirit since he had arrived broken and bloodied. Here was hope he had lain before her, and that was all she needed.
Her blood coated hands hitched up the edges of her dress as she raced with all her willpower up the ominous level of winding stairs that led to the secret apothecary she was rarely allowed to enter.
Mulled, softly glowing torches guttered lazily about the apothecary as Belle swooped in like the breath of life itself on her zealous mission for the blue bottle. The flames swirled and danced at the sudden gust of air from the outside casting the odd oval room into curious shadows that played along the stone walls.
Potions and foul liquid regents of all kinds and colors danced in the shimmering light, each more unique than the last. Purples, pinks, reds, and greens, all swirled in their appointed vials in a menagerie of colors as if gently crying to be plucked up and used. But Belle knew what she was searching for as she timidly traversed the dim work room of her master, her hands clasped together in trepidation of touching or spilling a thing.
Blue bottle on second shelf was what he had murmured before passing out again. Her only hope was that there weren't too many blue bottles lying upon second shelves to pick from. Heaven only knew the last thing she needed was to grab the wrong potion that would do who knew what!
A wavy blue, looking akin to water twinkling with light, caught the corner of chestnut haired beauty's eye as she looked wide eyed upon one large shelf that housed strange ingredient for his elixirs and concoctions.
The bottle was plain and stood on a low squat shelf with thankfully only three shelves so it was easy to know which self he meant. Syrupy cerulean liquid swilled in the crystal casement really almost too thick to be actually called a liquid substance any longer but more akin to gummy slime.
Taking one more turn around the room to make certain that it as the only blue bottle on a second shelf (and thankfully it was) Belle ducked out of the room once more with the speed of frightened deer; the vial of precious liquid sloshing crazily in her hand.
The beauty practically slammed to her knees as she knelt beside the Dark One. His chest still heaved far to slowly for her liking where sometimes she actually had to look intently just to see if he was drawing breath at all. He was laying there helpless, unprotected, and weak and though she would never admit it that scared her more than anything ever had in her life.
"Please let this work." Belle murmured pleadingly under her breath to any deity that might have pity of the Dark One as she pulled out the glass stopper to the vial of slimy blue gunk.
Her finger tips tremulously brushed against his gray lips warily before she opened his mouth to dump the magical substance down his throat. The molasses like liquid oozed down his esophagus at an agonizing pace, but Belle forced herself to make certain every last drop was drained from the bottle no matter how long it took.
When finally the last azure drop hit his lips, the beauty sighed as she put the bottle carefully aside. A shaky sigh meandered from her lips as she let out a gusty breath. Well that was it, all she knew how to do had been done; the only thing left was to see he rested not to uncomfortably on the rough, hard, chilled stone until she saw any sort of progress.
A frown directed at her own self etched across her features as she leaned against one of the table legs to help keep herself upright. A blood stained hand ran through her tresses of honey dark brown curls, splashing her figure with even more gore, but she didn't give it a thought.
Her body was trembling in high stung nerves mingled with exhaustion, but she refused the temping press of slumber that beckoned her with the pleasant thoughts of her old bed in the servant's quarters or even the master's chair in front of the blazing hearth.
Even though she had bandaged the arm wound, cleaned the sparkling diamond like dust off most of his exposed flesh, which seemed to aid the natural gray-gold hue to come back to his skin, and poured the potion down his throat, she still couldn't help but feel all too helpless and want to do so much more than simply staring at his crumpled, slowly breathing body.
Now that the worst, or so she desperately hoped, was over, the beauty felt a hard lump form, wanting to take her breath away as it hitched in her throat. Belle stoically blinked back a heavy flood of hot tears that pressed determinedly in her watery azure eyes as she tenderly brushed the few blood gummed strands of dirty brown hair she had missed away from his cheek.
"You know I don't like to complain, Rumpelstiltskin, but if you die I will be most displeased with you." She breathed hollowly in a paltry, mirthless, laugh at the stupidity of the desperate statement. A small shallow smile marbled tremulously across her lips but departed as quickly as it came. Her hands curled possessively over his limp talons, in some silly way to try to let him know that she was there as she squeezed his claw tightly with all her power and put it to her cheek tenderly. "Please don't die, Rum, please."
Never in all her life had she felt so moved with someone close to death. In war time, as it had nearly always been in Belle's life, death was common, and even the most tender of heart and loving of souls grew calloused to it in one way or another if just to save their hearts from all out bursting at the crumpling humanity.
But with him lying there, prone and weak, she couldn't help but feel as though her very soul and heart were being shredded and decimated into little particles of nothingness that would easily float upon a gentle breeze never to be seen again.
And suddenly it clicked inside her like a puzzle finally placing the last piece in order or a lock finding the right key to open a chest of the unknown, revealing what had so long eluded her. It was the oddest time for it to happen and defiantly the worst place for the truth to hit her, but Belle finally realized with out one shadow of a doubt…she loved him. She loved the Dark One, Rumpelstiltskin her master, her captor, the beast that prowled all the realms bringing despair in his wake and trouble that herald before him.
She loved Rumpelstiltskin. The fact made her pause as the words resounded and reverberated in her mind in shocked echoes at froze her.
At that one moment, Belle didn't know whether to cry or laugh as her heart burst with the knowledge so long denied and hidden away in the cracks of her soul now flagrantly presented and free to encompass all her mind with that singular word - love.
Her hand recoiled away from him at the startling realization that struck her more like a flash of lightening than a sudden truth. She had always read about love, but never had she known it could sneak up upon a soul with the craftiness of a master thief; not making itself announced until it had cultivated and grown into something beautiful that couldn't be shut out or removed when its blooms blosommed even if it wanted to be.
For a moment all she did was look at him, her hand still slick and crusted with his blood, curled against her chest as her cerulean eyes sat stapled to him as if trying to look past the gray-gold flesh. She loved him, and even though all the world might gape at her aghast, or shun her for it for such a harrowing blatant admittance, the beauty felt no regret and no shame that this was the man who had inadvertently won, or more to his nature, stolen her heart.
He had claimed her heart as his own as much as he had claimed her body in the deal struck to save her people. He didn't know it, and she only realized it then, but he owned more of her than he or she ever thought.
Slowly, her hand unfurled back to his fevered, blood flecked cheek, her finger tips just whispering over his skin as if the faintest of touches would wake him from his delirium. Her deft fingers traced across the clammy flesh and this time, when the thoughts of love branded across her soul and roared from her spirit like a battle cry, she did not pull away.
~8~8~
Rum awakened with the noon winter sun filtering pathetically into the main hall, warming the room very faintly with its lack luster rays that try as valiantly as it might, couldn't penetrate the cold, snow covered earth still held in thrall by winters chains.
A grunt blubbered out of his mouth as his eyes squinted hard at the sparse light and he attempted to sit up all the while his mind tried to figure out what had happened. Pain exploded in his arm when he tried to put pressure on it making the nefarious Dark One howl in pain like the beast that others so hatefully termed him as.
Falling back he found someone hand lain a pillow under his head, and covered him with something rather warm. His breath came out in sharp almost panicked gasps as he sought to figure out what was happening.
He vaguely remembered the fight with the Blue fairy and the horrid dust she spewed in his face then everything mixed into one big blur that he wasn't sure what memory began and a new ended.
Flashes of warm chestnut curls swarmed in his memory, with Belle's cries resounding in his ears dully and her light touch on his cheek. He recalled something disgusting oozing past his lips and traversing his throat and feeling a little relief as it attacked the motes of good magic and disintegrated them.
After all he had done to her had she truly mended his hurts and not run, or was she only helping him heal for another devious purpose? His heart fluttered weakly at the thought of the dagger that he knew was no longer strapped to his chest. Where was it? Had she only restored him to health so she could use him like a puppet or worse?
"Rum!" Belle's lovely voice cried his name in relief, momentarily making the Dark One halt his thoughts of the blade as she appeared. "You're finally awake!"
Dark circles traced under her icy azure eyes, her russet tresses were wayward and wild, and a completely bedraggled aura echoed about her as if she had labored without rest, but her eyes, so glimmering with joy, seemed to take any weariness away from her exhausted form.
She must have heard his cry of pain, Rumpel surmised tritely as he watched her race to his side dutifully.
The beauty knelt beside him, her hand curling about his shoulders gently in a firm reassuring touch. "Here, let me help you sit up."
Another grunt of pain and foggy delirium whipped across his head, but he managed to stay aright this time without any pressure on his wounded limb. As he rose up he found that his chest was bare but she draped her own enchanted cloak over him to shield away the cold from the castle floor.
His arm was bandaged neatly with black strips that look familiarly like his ragged dragon hide cloak, with only a faint splotch of blood crusted upon it, showing delicate care of his gash.
On one side of him the dagger lay wrapped in a strip of his, he was now certain of, ruined cloak, far away from Belle, untouched and not given one thought about by his slave. A bit of shame welled in him that he would even think she would have done something so vile as heal him only to use it against him. He was the monster, not she.
"How long was I out?" He grunted coarsely sending an agonizing rattling pain through his weak body.
Belle heaved her shoulders faintly in a shrug as she snatched up a bowl of water she had kept on hand. "Four days approximately." She revealed as she put the water up to his thin cracked lips.
Four days! He wanted to echo the number back in shock, but the beauty pressed the sweet water to his lips, brooking no way to reply. The fiend gulped down the water ravenously to let it cool his fevered insides and quench his indomitable thirst. A slightly bitter after taste followed as he finished off the refreshing liquid letting him know clearly she had laced something in it.
"Did you put something in that?" He inquired weakly, yet noticing the soreness had alleviated from his throat and he felt a little stronger.
A tint of crimson hinted at Belle cheeks as she nodded abashedly. "Forgive me, I ventured into your apothecary again to try and find anything else that would help, and I came upon this." She hefted a small vial with a faded brown label that read 'Healing Potion' scrawled in his hard to read script.
"You did well." He commended sagasciously; his tones just a hint stronger as the last dregs of the potion went to work mending the hurts the good magic had unrelentingly buffeted him with.
Belle involuntarily flushed with a bit of pride and a touch of easiness returning to her finally at his words. Not even 15 minutes being awake and he was already sounding like normal Rum ready to strike a few bargains with the desperate.
Knowing he was going to be back in full health in no time a tiresome yawn escaped her lips before she could suppress it in front of her insipid master.
The utterly exhausted yawn was not overlooked by the still sharp Dark One who never missed a move even in his weakness. Perching his brow faintly, the fiend's ebony orbs looked the beauty over again harder, seeing something else just under the surface of her fair flesh. "When's the last time you slept these four days?" He asked curiously as he shifted a bit to get more comfortable upon the stone.
"I've caught a little rest." Belle dodged tactfully as she rechecked the wound on his arm expertly; forcing herself not to meet his gaze to see the real truth. If by 'caught a little rest' she meant nearly falling asleep three times on her feet then it was the complete truth, yet she knew that wasn't what he meant.
"You're still a terrible liar, Dearie." Rum commented with a wry smirk. His usual giggle rumbled out of his throat intrepidly almost as proof of his gaining strength. "I'm awake now and I can feel my latent powers gathering. I'll be fine. You, however, need to get some sleep."
Belle opened her mouth, sternly about to protest to her charge, when he shook his head slowly with only a mild fit of vertigo. "I'm not asking, Belle. Go." He commanded gently.
"Very well." She hissed in agitation, but the fiend could sense the deep thankfulness just vaguely hidden behind the displeasure in her voice.
As she staggered away, the magical monster sighed heartily feeling twice as strong as he had when he'd first awoken. Magic flickered greedily at his talons as he beckoned the dark forces to his will, but he still needed a moment to gather his power, leaving him time to think and mull over a few gently prodding thoughts.
Belle hadn't chosen to run, which was very surprising after how badly he had treated her for those days after she had stumbled upon the chest that sequestered the precious yet despised blade away from the world. His midnight glance slightly shifted to the blade swaddled up by his side, as his thoughts deepened troublingly about the magical weapon and his servant. Nor did she choose to use the blades powers to destroy or control him which would have been extremely simple given his frail condition.
Could her words have been true those long nights ago? She wouldn't hurt him?
Grimly, he knew with an explicit clarity, she had every opportunity to do whatever she desired and yet she had done nothing but tend to his wounds and look after him relentlessly not sleeping, and he ventured to surmise, barely eating. Instead of running, she'd chosen to remain a slave, instead of thrusting the blade through his chest she had chosen to be a faithful servant, instead of being uncaring in hopes he would die upon the stone floor like a wounded dog, she had tended him.
He stood at the threshold of death and yet she had barred the way even though he far from deserved to be saved. There was a debt now between him and her; a heavy debt in blood that he had to pay to her for her loyal actions.
A sharp ironic laugh barked harshly from his lips as he realized, he, the Dark One, was now in a blood-debt to the woman he had treated so unkindly. It seemed that no matter how much he fought it, protected himself or tried to push her away Belle was going to have a part of him whether he liked it or not.
Banishing the thoughts away for a moment the magical monster let the black powers unfurl from his hand like a churning purple storm cloud focusing on the pains and wounds of the detestable good magic. Purple mist curled about his wounded arm, knitting the flesh together neatly without even a scar to tell there had even been an injury. Even though the magical aspect of the wound beneath the skin still throbbed in torment it would heal in time and rest.
Strength suffused his limbs one more and banished the last remnants of the good dust, as he breathed clearer than he had in days; sucking in the fresh scent of the Dark Castle in one long draught. The taint of the good magic had been purged leaving him feeling much like he old self, and strangely even better than he had in a long time.
With a devious chortle he leapt up nimbly stretching his sore bulk before snatching up his vest. A few dried blood stains flecked the supple black leather, but it had obviously tried to have been cleaned and was folded neatly by his side.
His dexterous claws smoothed over the jerkin curiously as his brow furrowed; staring at the stains that had been attempted to wash off, but had stuck engrained upon the garment for all time. It was odd, but he felt a strange warmth pool inside him just looking at the cleaned garb. Trust Belle to even do the little insignificant things like this. Such gestures of tenderness and caring always took him by surprise and made a tenuous smile involuntarily prick at his lips.
The magical monster pulled the vest on in one smooth motion his nimble talons snapping the button in their holes as he set off to his apothecary for a few little doses of his elixirs to put him back into full strength.
Strolling in a favorable mood, even though his mind was concocting a host of devious plots to get sweet revenge on the Blue Fairy, the infamous Dark One crossed the door that led to the dungeons. The door was swung agape on its rusted hinges letting a frigid draft whisk through the Dark Castle in its chilling breath of must and decay.
As he walked past it, he paused before taking a half step back in sudden curiosity. The faint guttering luminance of a torch flickered forlornly up the dim winding stairway like a lighthouse beacon on the coast casting the stone walls in dirt smeared light.
His brow arched ponderously as he spryly traversed up the stairs to see what was going on and who could have ventured up into the dungeon. Could some one have sneaked in while his powers were waned by the toxic dust?
His fears instantly abated as he saw Belle fast asleep on the hard cold stone steps, almost making it to the squalid cell she fitfully rested in, but far to tired for even such a simple thing; blatantly showing her fatigue. When he ordered her to get some rest, he had meant her usual room, but still she remained strict to his so cruelly spoken orders.
An endearing, soft grin splayed across his features as he neared her slowly heaving body. How dare he condemn her to such squalor as a dungeon! He cursed his temper profusely as he inched closer to lift her from the uncomfortable stairs. The magical fiend easily scooped her up in his arms gently without causing her to stir, even though his wounded appendage was screaming in pain.
She fit wonderfully in his arms as if she were made to be nestled in them. Her head dipped right under his chin; involuntarily cuddling against him to stave off the chill.
The fiends, heart paused it's rapid throbbing as she curled closer to his body, her lovely fragrance of honeysuckle wafting pleasantly around his face as wispy tendril of her chestnut mane tickled faintly against his skin.
The beauty didn't stir once as he carefully tramped down the stairs with his precious cargo. For an instance he almost put her in the servant quarters where she had long contentedly called the small chamber home, but immediately shook the thought away. Such a room would not do for someone he now owed his life to.
Delicately he turned to the direction of the second tier of his castle where the elegant rooms lined the halls with greater luxury than even a king's palace. With a few strong strides the fiend entered a lovely chamber that he hoped would suit Belle's taste.
It was a large room with two large windows covered by thick dark blue drapes; the walls were desirably painted in a sky blue that reminded one of a clear summer sky. The bed spread out in a large length and width, covered with finely sewed sheets of red silk along with a heavy pinwheel stitched woolen blanket that would stalwartly defy the iciest drafts that filtered through the Dark Castle.
The fiend laid her upon the goose down mattress tenderly like a fragile treasure he laid upon one of his plush pedestals. Never once did she stir from her deep well needed slumber, which he was much grateful for. Another rare, soft, endearing grin bloomed across his face as he knocked a strand of her russet curls away from her tired features.
She had saved, spared and tended to his life, something he thought another would ever do for him, especially someone he had brought into slavery. And yet there she laid before him, unique, lovely, one of a kind in every sense of the word.
"Thank you." He whispered tenderly; his voice hoarse with every inch of emotion that strained in his soul.
A heavy desire to suddenly caress his mouth against her lovely pink lips came upon him so strong he had to grab the woolen cover to keep from actually doing so. He didn't know what such feelings fired so zealously through his body, but he knew they were new and different and dangerous. Yet ironically he couldn't have cared less how dangerous they were only that they were warm and wonderful and all centered on the woman that lay before him.
Bowing deeply to her once in great respect, even though she was lost in a world of peaceful slumber, the fiend turned away and padded back to the door with a subtlety akin to a shadow; Belle running tirelessly through his every thought and step along with the feelings he could no longer keep tucked away in the recesses of his heart.