It might have been the coldest day they'd seen so far. She'd woken early in the morning shivering, even with every blanket she'd ever found piled on top of her the cell was simply too cold to sleep in. Quickly, and proud that she could even do it in the pitch black, she found the warmest dress she owned, the pink one with long sleeves, gathered a thick blanket and made her way up into the great room that they used.
The room was eerily quiet without the wheel making its usual noises, but the fire lit for her right away just as it always did. At the moment she didn't care if it was enchanted for her or not, she just wanted to be warm. So she wrapped herself up in her blanket and hunkered down in her chair. This early in the morning she couldn't help but close her eyes and melt into it's heat...its comfort...and warmth...and...
Something was touching her shoulder and she jerked at the motion looking quickly around her. It was him, by her side. But he hadn't been there when she...she'd fallen asleep, she must have. The room was brighter than it had been before. Morning, she'd fallen asleep cuddled up in her chair, and as she looked around her taking in the scene she found that the blanket she'd been wrapped in had fallen off of her shoulders. Had he been trying to replace it? Was that why one side was against the shoulder that she'd felt him touch? Was that why he had jumped back when she awoken and now looked as though he'd been burned?
He looked surprised, and if he could she imagined that he might turn red if she voiced her suspicions. Him?! Caught being kind and caring! She knew he had it in him, but he'd only deny it. Even if they were getting friendlier each day, that was just too much even for him. Probably she was wrong. Probably he'd never touched her. More likely, it was simply the sound of him coming in or the creak of a floor board, or the colder temperature against her shoulder that had woken her and her sudden movement had just startled him.
"Last I checked," he muttered with a smile that was meant to make him seem rude but he just couldn't pull off, "I don't pay you to sleep."
She offered a sweeter smile in return, making his false one fade away quickly. "Last time I checked you don't pay me at all," she yawned, stretching and squirming to loosen the cocoon she'd tangled around herself and free her arms. "I was tired," she explained folding the blankets, "and cold. This is the warmest place in the castle."
"Ah, well," he looked her up and down for a moment, finger tips touching, tapping, together almost nervously. "It can never be a good thing when you are up before me," he finished, then turned and took his usual seat at the wheel, as if what had happened hadn't…that is if anything thing had happened. She couldn't prove it had, and it wasn't like him to have let something like that happen. Either she'd just uncovered a new personality trait or she was imagining things. Probably it was the latter.
Against her better judgment she began her morning tasks as if nothing had changed, starting with breakfast. Her tiny kitchen wasn't bad, the fire lit in there kept it warm enough to cook but it still didn't offer the same amount of warmth that their room did, especially when the wind blew down the chimney and against the door. Their room was easily the best place to be during days like this, and given the fact that he'd spent most of the day in there yesterday as well, she suspected he might have agreed with her. There simply was no other reason that she could come up with that one man would need that much gold!
When she returned she found everything as it normally was, or at least normal for the last week or so. He was at his end of the table, waiting patiently, and the chair that she used, the one she slept and read in, had been moved to the opposite end for her own use. She expertly hid her smile, as she did everyday she saw it there. He moved it for her, there was no other explanation for it. But so long as he refused to acknowledge that, so long as they both refused to point out his kind gestures, she saw no reason to possibly give him reason to stop.
They always ate their meal in content silence. From the moment she placed his plate before him and carried her own to her end to the moment he pushed back and she collected the empty plates the only sound that filled the room was the crackle and pops coming from the fireplace indicating glorious heat. They never really even acknowledged the other was there. There were no glances, they never looked at each other or spoke. Just sat waiting for the other in the silence. It felt nice, to simply sit by the fire and stare into it for a few moments of peace. It was predictable, but for some reason she liked it.
But today was different, instead of dismissing himself like usual he simply made his way back to the spinning wheel. She didn't let it hinder her, his change in schedule didn't affect her. She had a long busy day of chores ahead and the last thing she needed was to be distracted by him. So, without delay she quickly retrieved their dishes, left the room...and shivered. When there wasn't a fire lit the castle was colder than ice. Not even her thickest dress was enough to ward it off. She dropped the plates off in her kitchen, leaving them to soak, retrieved her book and shawl from where she'd left them in her cell, and climbed the stairs, realizing with each one that her steps were a little quicker than they had been.
And when she got to the great room, saw her chair by the fire with a blanket folded over the top of it, when she heard the howl of the wind rattle the hidden windows, suddenly her spot by the fire looked incredibly comfortable...too tempting to turn down. What was one day off? She'd done it before and it would certainly be warmer here than anywhere else in the castle.
He watched her take her seat by the fire, curling up in her blanket again but said nothing to her. Sharing this space was normal for the pair of them, what wasn't normal was the day off they both seemed to be taking. He didn't leave the room through the morning, just spun on and on. She usually had a book but she'd finished it hours ago and left her with nothing to do but stare into the warm blaze beside her. Sure she could leave, go up to her library and exchange the book, but that meant leaving the fire, and she just wasn't that desperate. She was content. Perfectly content to stay warm and listen to him spin. Frankly, the idea of leaving the room to collect their tea made her shiver before she even had to leave the room.
"It's not like you to sit around doing nothing all day," his voice rose suddenly, low and serious. She glanced over but he wasn't looking at her, just spinning. For a moment she wasn't even sure he'd said something, thought that it might simply have been her imagination. But then she saw the small expectant glance he gave her before turning back to the wheel. "Usually you at least busy yourself with a book," he added finally.
She couldn't help but smirk. All those times that they sat in the same room and she assumed he was pretending not to notice her, he really had been noticing. She wouldn't point it out, it didn't seem polite. Besides, it hadn't exactly worked in her favor last time she pointed out something like that to him. Chances were that if she stated outright that he'd been watching her, he would stop right away, and this was what she'd been waiting for ever since that day he got back from Camelot! An opporunity for him to open himself up for a conversation. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing, and it wasn't as though she was going to get any other kind up here in the dead of winter. Baby steps. She never did know where a simple remark like that might lead!
"You don't usually spend your day at the wheel," she countered. But instead of joking with her, something he usually would have done when she pointed something like that out to him, he nodded a confirmation.
"There are always a few cold days like this in these mountains, too cold for even me to work in the towers. Usually I leave."
"Why didn't you this time?" she asked gently.
She waited a beat, but he didn't answer, and she felt herself blush at the sudden realization. He hadn't left because he wasn't alone. She was here, and for some reason, the thought that he'd chosen to stay trapped in the cold castle with her instead of escape and leave her behind to fend for herself made her belly twist into knots and a smile stretch across her face. He cared. Maybe he had tried to cover her with the blanket this morning.
"Do you..." she hesitated, wondering just how far that courtesy extended, wondering if maybe she was seeing more of it than there really was. She'd never know if she didn't at least try. "Do you want tea today?" she asked curiously. "The lower levels are much colder than here," she explained quickly when he gave her a strange and confused glance. "If you're fine without, I'd much rather stay in here where it's warm."
"The kitchen not warm enough either, dearie?" he asked as he stood up and moved away from the wheel. She honestly wasn't sure how to answer. Was he joking with her? Was he chastising her for not doing her work? Had she taken a step too far? Had she forced him to take a step away from her persuing their conversation.
She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that it was alright and she'd go downstairs and retrieve a snack for them, when he waved his hand and purple smoke appeared at the corner of the table. When it cleared, the tea tray sat before them. Teapot, sugar, chipped cup and all. More kindness, it was unexpected.
"Thank you," she muttered, getting up out of her chair and moving around him to happily help herself to the warm drink, all the while hoping he wouldn't notice the blush she could feel creeping up her neck. She wasn't going to drink it just yet, frankly it was nice just holding the cup in her hands.
"Your book isn't what you thought?" She spun around, careful not to spill her drink, and found him holding the hardcover she'd left in her chair. With the exception of the cold, and the fact that he'd gotten the tea, it was a perfectly normal tea time. He liked to know what she was reading, he liked to talk about what she thought about the books, and whether or not she enjoyed the tale. Cat and mouse. She'd taken a step away and he'd taken one closer to her. "You've barely touched it today," he went on, interpreting her silence as confusion.
"Oh!" she responded quickly, "no, I finished it."
"And you haven't replaced it yet?"
"Well," she blushed again. He had been watching her, enough to know her routines, "I do have my eye set on one about a beanstalk and an ogre, but the weather-"
"Ah! How unusual!" he interrupted. "A day too cold for you to journey into a foreign tale. I never thought I'd see the day." She tried not to laugh, tried not to smile even, but she knew that tone. The not so serious one he used when he was joking, when he was using humor to stand between the two of them and diffuse nervous energy that he seemed to collect in the empty space.
Empty space. Steps taken. Was now the time? Could she try again with him? Could she try to talk about something she'd wanted to discuss with him nearly since she'd arrived.
"So tell me a story," she suggested gently. "You must have few."
He shook his head, stared into the fire, "No more than most I'm afraid." He was lying. It wasn't the tone that told her, it was simply common sense. A glance around the room would tell anyone that.
"So what about these?" she questioned, looking at the objects surrounding them. "There are at least a dozen stories in here. What do all these mean? Where did they all come from?"
"Here!" he shouted making a grand gesture. "There! Everywhere!" He still wasn't being serious, but she was alright with that. It was better than the teases and insults that she'd gotten last time she'd asked about these things. A strange hammer. Those terrible looking dolls. A valiant sword. A lamp she'd only ever seen in the pictures of her books.
She picked it up, and turned expecting to see him staring off into the fire drinking tea as he so often did. But he was watching her again, his eyes continuing to survey her, eternally curious. "Tell me about this one," she requested, wondering what he would think of her sudden question, wondering what he'd do!
"Careful," he insisted, suddenly serious again, setting down his tea and coming to her side. "Shake it around too much and some wandering Genie will move in, and then you've got wishes." He carefully reached down and removed the metal from her hands. She couldn't help but swallow nervously at it, the first time that they'd touched since that day he'd healed her. She probably wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the fact that it felt…normal. Right. But her mind felt hazy again, just as it had the weeks after they'd returned from Sherwood Forest and she was unsure what to do with their close proximity. Talk. They should simply continue to talk. Maybe then it wouldn't seem so abnormal to her.
"And we don't want wishes?" she asked as he set it back upon it's podium.
"We don't. Want. Wishes," he hissed sharply. She wasn't positive what had sparked that kind of a response, but it was enough to tell her the story wouldn't be pleasant. On a cold day like this, if they were going to share the same space they needed something more than strained words.
She glanced around her and spotted the gold blanket that hung draped over its perch. "What about this one?" she asked, drawing his attention from the lamp, conscious of the way he followed close behind her. "I've never heard of a golden sheep," she informed him, nodding toward the strange gold object. She'd always thought he made it, because of the gold. Maybe that would make it easier to discuss? He chuckled at her comment. That surprised her. It wasn't chastising or cruel or one of the strange giggles when he found something unknown funny. It was a genuine laugh. It sounded different, more normal, far more pure than what she'd ever heard.
"It's called the golden fleece," he explained stepping up next to her once more. "It's very ancient," he muttered in a far off voice, "it's supposed to be the skin of a gold flying sheep that rescued children." She glanced over to see if he was jesting with her, but the look on his face was one of complete and total seriousness, maybe even admiration. That certainly had not been what she'd expected!
"But that's..." she shook her head searching for the word that she needed to describe her thoughts. "That's crazy! A golden sheep?" she exclaimed, finding the image of a golden sheep flying through the crystal blue sky with a couple of children on its back humorous. Who had started a rumor like that? And how had someone managed to convince him that they had the genuine skin?
"It was reported to be spectacular," he countered, his seriousness disappearing once more behind a smile that suggested maybe he suddenly saw it just as funny as she did.
She smiled as she glanced at it again. "I don't buy a word of it." No, she still preferred to think that he'd created the strange blanket, but that didn't mean she was any more inclined to use it for warmth as she was to use those dolls for entertainment. "And..." she added moving on to pedestal after pedestal, "I think it's called the golden fleece because someone cheated you out of whatever you paid."
Maybe it was the crackle of the fire, or the wind blowing outside, she couldn't see to prove it, but it sounded as though he'd laughed again. No, not laughed. Chuckled. Low and serious, restrained, as if he was trying to keep her from hearing. Was that what a genuine laugh from him sounded like, or was it really just the fire? She walked back to take her seat by the fire once more, sensing that she'd gotten the story she'd been looking for, when her eye caught on something different. It wasn't on a pedestal or an alter, but she'd never seen him handle it before either. Everything in this room was here for a reason, so what was the point of this long piece of wood he kept shoved against the corner of the fireplace.
"What about this?" she asked picking it up. It was light, nearly as tall as her, easy enough to hold. It wasn't spectacular, it was knotted, mangled, and it had small grooves along it that seemed intentional, as if done with a knife or some other sharp object. "Where did you get this?"
There was no sound, nothing to suggest that he was paying attention or had followed her over. Yet when she turned she found him lurking there, just over her shoulder, quiet as ever. His presence was a surprise to her but she didn't jump, didn't even spook, because he simply wasn't menacing to her anymore. And the look he was wearing now, was the farthest thing from menacing. In fact, she thought he almost looked sad, mournful in a way. What was this? What story could possibly be behind it?
"There must be something interesting," she prompted, watching him carefully for his reaction. But he only glanced over at her, suspicious, and shielded. He looked as though she'd just reached right up for that mask he wore and tore it from his face. Had she? She honestly hadn't meant to, although now that he was looking at her like that she was immensely curious.
"'Tis the cane of an old coward," he said finally reaching forward and taking the wood from her, "nothing more."
But there was! There was something more, she could see it plain as day etched out on his face! He wasn't saying it but she knew it by the look in his eye. She had nothing to prove it, she'd never sensed anything like this from him before, but she knew it, it came from somewhere deep inside of her. The reason it was set aside from the other items in the collection wasn't because it wasn't as important, it was because it was. Who was the old coward?
"Why did he give it to you?" she asked, watching as he held it in his hand.
Nothing. He simply continued to look at the cane as if she hadn't spoken. Something was playing over in his mind, something important, something…emotional? Yes, she was right, the cane was important, but it wasn't the cane itself. It was a reminder, it represented a memory of some kind. That was what was important to him. It wasn't the cane. It was the old coward. Who had he been that he garnered a look like that from the man that called himself the Dark One? A mentor? No, too, emotional for something like that. She would have suspected a friend, but he tended to keep to himself. Frankly, outside of this conversation they'd arguably never talked as friends would! Could it be a father? Someone who had been like a father to him? Was that possible? Where had the Dark One come from? Could he have had a father? A family?
The hole in his heart...what caused it...had she just stumbled upon it?!
"What did he get in return?" she prodded gently. He jumped. Well, he didn't jump, not by normal human standards, but she could see the small startle that rippled through him as she'd spoken. It was as if he'd completely forgotten she was in the room, completely forgotten he was in the room! Was that why he hadn't answered her questions? Had he simply not heard her? "I, uh..." she swallowed and decided to try once more, what was the worst that could happen? "I asked what the man who gave that to you got in return."
He snapped, or something did. His suspicious look returned as he looked her over, his grip on the cane tightened, and she could see him pulling away from her, replacing the mask that she'd inadvertently ripped off. "Misery," he snarled under his breath. He turned quickly away from her and made long meaningful strides back over to the spinning wheel, taking the old cane with him.
"That should give you all the stories you desire," he said taking a seat and making a motion toward her own abandoned nest by the fire, "and keep you plenty entertained for the rest of the day." She was going to question him, ask what he was talking about when she looked over to the armchair and found something laying on the seat that hadn't been there before. A book. Green cover. Golden words etched into its spine. A story. About a beanstalk and an ogre. The one she told him that she'd had her eye on. He'd listened! He'd remembered what she'd said! She could barely remember saying it, but he had. She hadn't expected it, but it was nice to know that, even if he pretended he didn't pay attention to her, he did know she was around. He did listen to her stories, even in some strange way her desires as he'd conjured the tea set. It was…comforting.
She cast a glance over to the man who once again had gone back to pretending as though she wasn't there and didn't see her and her eyes fell on the cane he'd taken away and placed in the corner behind him. Out of sight out of mind. Still, they'd taken a step together today with their talk. Now, if only she could get him to see the comfort in having someone to talk to. Maybe then, someday, he really would tell her a story, beginning, middle, and end, worth remembering. Maybe he'd even tell her about the cane.
Ah! Forgive me for I could not resist! When the script for Skin Deep was released earlier I saw this scene in particular and knew that I had to make something out of it! For those of you that haven't seen the script the deleted scene starts with Belle asking about his things, when she picks up the lamp and ends with them talking about the fleece, the stuff before and after is just my own personal set up for it. I've always wanted her to find the cane and when Baelfire show it to Mulan still in his castle...I could not resist using this scene to my own advantage!
Thank you Skitzoeinhoven for your review on the last chapter! I'm super happy that you liked it and that you saw right through that denial as well and realized that yes, he was indeed tucking her in. Busted. He's starting to feel more and more for her, isn't he? She's definitely starting to have a soft spot in his heart and I love being able to write that and I love that you love reading it! Peace and Happy Reading!