A/N: Thank you guys for reading and reviewing! I've been having a blast with this story.
~8~8~
Rumpelstiltskin's life had never been an easy one. He had been born into a life of abject penury as a peasant, then after the war what little the spinner had managed to eke out as a paltry living for his son was snatched away.
Still, for those long, torturous years limping as a destitute coward, wondering how he would survive another day, nothing in his past seemed as hard as tending to a small child and keeping up with a multitude of chores.
Dusting of his mistress' trinkets had to be juggled with feeding Wren. Sweeping regularly interchanged with making certain she was in need of nothing. Burping and changing regulated washing, serving, scrubbing all in some precarious display of balance so that one did not outweigh the other.
It was back breaking to dare say the least!
Belle attempted vainly to stifle a humorous grin blooming upon her lovely features as she stared at her servant. The former cripple slept with his head lying upon the table of the main hall. His hair curtained his scruffy features with a few tendrils of his dirty brown tresses dancing about with each ragged snore. Beneath his head a small puddle of drool wetted his cheek.
"Rum wake up." The Dark One tapped him lightly upon his shoulder.
It had only been a matter of time before the work began to drag him down, she knew such would have to happen sooner of later.
The timid spinner awoke with a startled snort and bleary eyes blinking owlishly in confusion. Shaking his head, Rum sprinted up from his chair, his hands searching vainly for the rag he used to polish the glossy veneer of the table.
Running a hand through his mop of hair, the former cripple stared at his mistress in apologetic helplessness. "Sorry I dozed off." He admitted; a flush firing through his cheeks.
Dozed was putting it mildly, it was more akin to closing his eyes seemingly just for a moment, to awake with his mistress looming over his fatigued figure.
"You should get more rest." Belle observed teasingly.
It was obvious he was exhausted. The late nights of dragging his lanky body back up the stone stairways to fall in an tired heap upon his bed mingled with the early rising to feed Wren and serve his mistress' own meal, was taking its toll upon him; terribly so.
Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his usual scruffy features appeared more haggard and gaunt since the he had taken up the challenge to juggle his captivity and child rearing.
Rum heaved his shoulders helplessly, a tired downtrodden gesture. "I don't have the time, mistress." He let a blustered sigh fall past his lips in sleep denied frustration. "Wren is down for her nap, and I still need to scrub the library and polish the silver and…"
"Today, I'll let it slide." Belle chuckled fondly. "You need to get some rest, least I discover you asleep once more! You're no good to me dead on your feet."
Rum smiled half heartedly, his chestnut eyes shimmering gratefully, though he still put up a debate. "But what of Wren?"
"That little terror is still your problem, but worry not, I'll alert you if she's crying." The fiendish beauty assured.
"I…" The former cripple began to protest, and then abruptly shut his mouth. It was true; he could barely keep steady upon his feet, much less tend to his chores. And the sweet temptation of slumber was beckoning him into its realm.
"Alright." He finally nodded warily. "But remember I'm right upstairs if she wakes crying."
With that, the timid Rum dully lumbered to the winding stair way leading to his quarters. He paused at the threshold, leaning upon the door for support, before slightly turning his head back towards his mistress.
Belle wouldn't try to let anything happen to the child, but her demeanor for suddenly transforming emotions had never been far gone. One still had to be wary.
As he tramped tiredly up the dank stairwell, his footfalls echoing grimly, the beauty snorted once in irritation concerning his wariness. Swiping a tendril of her brown locks free of her face contorted into an annoyed countenance. "By that look he'd think I was going to eat the brat." She murmured dourly to herself.
Of course she wasn't entirely without her own reasons for sending him to a well earned rest, the beauty reminded herself. She did desire him to get some well earned slumber, but also she reckoned there was need to conqueror her trepidation of the tiny bundle.
Sequestering herself away and scurrying into hiding like a scavenging rat when the thing was around simply would not do. She was mistress of the castle; the babe would not control her!
And, though she was loathe admitting it, her curiosity about her little daughter was piqued to an inferno ever since Rum had struck his point about her eerily blue eyes. Perhaps it was only instinct to know what her spawn fully looked like instead of catching glimpses of her and hearing it more than actually looking at it. Whatever the reason, she had a deep seeded desire to fully force herself to grow accustomed to the child and ponder upon it.
Steeling herself with a steady breath, the beauty padded over to the extravagantly carved, mahogany crib sitting close by.
The bars of the baby bed were expertly crafted to seem like the trunks of trees while the horizontal bars had been carved to resemble boughs heavy in summer bloom. All in all the whole crib looked akin to a coppice of dark trees, which in the center rested the tiny bundle, Wren.
A wood carver had traded it for a few precise, magical tools in which could make anything seem extraordinarily life like. The last she heard, he had carved a boy that the blue fairy had summoned to life.
Belle had always had the useless treasure tucked away and forgotten under blankets of dust, until the day the babe had been born.
The tiny baby rested on a bed of soft wool blankets dyed a gold color that nearly made it seems as though, Wren rested upon a bed of vibrant autumnal leaves.
A startled surprise flashed across Belle's lovely features as she looked over the crib to see Wren. The child wasn't sleeping, but was quiet and squirming slightly upon its back. To the beauty, she almost was reminded of a beetle on it carapace without the strength to flip over and scuttle away.
She very nearly called for Rum, but then again the babe wasn't wailing like a banshee, nor smelling of gracious knew what. No, even for such a young child she seemed tactile and pondering with hints of mischief flecking her startling azure eyes. Heaven help all the realms when this one grew up!
Truth be told, if she could crawl, Belle had the faintest inclination the thing might have managed to escape from her crib. She had wanderlust in her eyes, much like her mother.
A ghost of a grin pecked at the Dark One's full lips, as she circled the cradled bed. Wren's eyes followed her every move; matching her glance for glance.
The child's hair would grow lank like her fathers, but even still she seemed not to have more of less of the other parent. She would be a rather pretty thing when she grew up. One glance at her and the fiend had no doubt; all manner of men would seek her out for her hand in marriage or to woo with foolish nonsense of love.
"You're cute, I'll give you that." Belle admitted to break the intense quiet she felt falling around her contemplation. "But then again you're half of my blood." She chuckled mildly at the after thought.
The babe made a curious little cooing noise as though trying to copy her mother. Her ever grasping hands and feet kicked upward flailing happily in the air at the attention.
A wider grin bloomed across the beauty's features as she dared slip a hand into the crib. She danged her spell clever fingers temptingly in front of Wren's joy lit face in a teasing manner.
The child, much like her matron in the ways of curiosity reached out to grab the twiddling digits and see what they were.
"A curious mite, aren't you?" Belle giggled almost fondly as the babe wrapped her tiny hands around her mother's one finger.
At once, the darkness inside of her growled its disapproval of playing with the brat. She was the Dark One, not some nursemaid or nanny looking after the spawn.
Jerking her hand away on reflex, Belle wiped her fingers on her bright orange, silk blouse as though the child had tainted her in some way.
Immediately the child's happy face, gleeful at the new discovery shattered in a pitiful frown and confusion. Her bottom lips quivered tremulously, those mystical eyes, bristling with newly formed tears.
"Oh please don't cry!" Belle pleaded in whispered panic.
If Rum heard once rattling wail rankling along the drafty air, he would be down in mere moments, and to be honest, Belle didn't want him catching her trying to make friends with Wren.
Perhaps it was motherly instinct breaking through the blackness, or desperation to keep the fortress quiet of sonorous screeches; whatever it was the beauty hauled the tiny child up from the wood crafted crib and into her awaiting arms.
A face once set to shrieking out another bellowing cry melted away back to youthful happiness at the thrill of being picked up and doted on.
Heaving a sigh of relief that another ear rupturing sob had been tactfully avoided, Belle found herself quite at ease with the child in her arms.
The babe was a squirmy, curious, little thing that constantly pawed at the beauty's unblemished, pallid face with her tiny spit coated hands as though mimicking her mothers tease from a few moments before.
Belle could only laugh at Wren's exploration of her face. The child's tubby fists patted her cheeks and dragged flecks of salvia all over her face. Once, her tiny grip grabbed the chestnut haired beauty's nose, making the devious fiend smile fondly at the girl.
"That's my nose." She explained in a sweet, nasally whisper to her daughter. "You have one too."
After releasing her nose, Wren dabbed at her face again, only this time Belle playfully dodged her touch. The beauty laughed softly as she dipped and swerved her head and then nipped playfully at her child's, grubby seeking fingers.
Wren let out a sound akin to a soft, frustrated growl or gurgle, her bottom lip caught between pouting and anger. A spark firing in her azure eyes, nearly made Belle laugh again.
"Hmm, so, little Wren has a temper." Belle remarked, giving up her game of keep away.
There was no mistaking the hardened glint in her indigo eyes, the beauty knew, for it frighteningly mirrored her own. Although she felt pride well within her at the thought, worry also took root. What if she had more of her mothers tendencies?
Despite her eyes, curiosity, and her temper, what else could she have possibly begotten from her mother, the Dark One contemplated? Her cunning, her guile, her wit, her darkness…?
She stared at her heir for long moments, thoughts jumbled and torn and tangled. What if Wren grew evil like her? What if the darkness sought to claim the young innocence? Even though she would never willingly give her powers up, she was loathe to think of the darkness festering inside her the babe.
The child, so precious, so small in a world that meant her harm, simply because of who her mother was, yawned sleepily; suddenly exhausted from their game. Paying no heed to that darkness swarming around her matron, she nuzzled close to her mothers chest, her eye lids dropping as sleep lulled her away.
A strangled cry tore from Belle asphyxiated throat as she hugged the child close. Tears swelled in her eyes and fell upon the crown of her daughters russet hair. "Oh Wren, I fear I'd make a poor mother to you. I am the most powerful woman in all the realms, but at this I am inept in every way. Who wants a mother tainted by the darkest evil?"
No, it was better for Wren if she watched her grow to be a sharp, fearless, strong woman from a far. She would strive to make her happy, but there couldn't be such love as a parent held for their child, not like the kind she had with her papa.
Wren already adored her father. He was kind, and gentle, and strong, while she was…the Dark One, evil and cruel and beastly. She was the fanged, red eyed monster that lurked in the corner of naughty children's dreams and spoke of only in frightened whispers by the most bold and hardiest of men.
No, Wren could never love her, of that, the darkness creeping inside assured her in no uncertain terms.
Yet the same could not be said for the softly weeping beauty.
~8~8~
Rum awoke finally as the last rays of day were retreating across the sky leaving a brilliant display of lilac and pink tinted upon the underbellies of thin clouds scudding along the dusky horizon.
A bear of a yawn, bellowed from his gaping mouth as he listened in satisfaction to the loud popping of his joints while he stretched the last haze of sleep away. For a moment, he felt languid and confused, his mind still mugged with rest before placing the time with the setting sun. He had frittered most of the day away in a dead sleep!
Belle was going to be furious, he thought inwardly as he stumbled from the room in a frantic race. His foot dragged a thin sheet behind, but he managed to do a hop struggling jig and kick it off leaving it a trail of fabric peeping from his door.
Traipsing down the gray, swirling stairs, his ears strained to listen for a spec of sound for good or ill. Wren wasn't crying so late which worried him greatly.
What if Belle's kindness had only been a ruse to spirit the child away in some bargain, so as not to deal with a possessive papa, pleading to keep his child?
How could he have been so utterly foolish! Rum scolded himself harshly, throwing a litany of foul curses at himself under his breath right as he burst into the main hall.
The name of his devious mistress was on the tip of his tongue, his wide, whisky tint eyes scanning the dim room franticly. The wood in the fireplace hadn't been lit for the night, but he could still clearly see the gold colored wool blanket with the cold, last indentation of where his daughter had napped.
Fear clamped in his chest then; icy, two ton dread compressing against his body. His heart somersaulted crazily in fear. Breath refused to flow into his lungs at the sight of the empty cradle. Where was Wren?
For a shocked moment a cry of dismay nearly erupted from his trembling lips, until a glimpse of orange caught the corner of his dilating iris. A bit of Belle's flowing silk shirt hung limply over her, ornate, high backed armrest caught his panicked gaze.
Dumbly, his body trembling with frightening thoughts, he stalked quietly over to the plush, throne like chair of burgundy. He halted his trek instantly as he rounded the chair, truly not certain what to expect. Would she be sitting there in the near dark, with a sick grin of satisfaction across her features, knowing she had been successful in fooling him, or perhaps looking into the dark, coldness of the hearth, her azure orbs lost in thought at what choices she had wrought?
He was all ready to demand the location of his absent daughter when he confronted her. Instead, a small smile bloomed across his sleep mussed features as the former spinner looked on.
Dozing in the chair was Belle comfortably holding the babe. Wren, as well, slept contentedly, sucking her tiny thumb and sleeping protectively on the Dark One's slowly rising chest.