A/n: I understand if you want to skip this chapter. Triggers, triggers everywhere … and a bit of smut, too.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Belle felt a shiver skitter up her spine and ground her teeth together to stop her teeth from chattering. She refused to show fear to him or anyone. She wasn't made that way. She knew she'd made a mistake by not talking to him first, but in her heart, she was convinced he never would have agreed to it. What other recourse had been left to her? "Rumpel, please, if you would allow me to explain, darling."

"Oh, I wait with bated breath, but first we need to get some breakfast into you. You're going to learn a valuable lesson through this little demonstration, but it won't include making you go hungry," he promised, pressing his brow to hers in a moment of weakness. He could only pray she would understand and somehow forgive him in the end. Hopefully, by the time breakfast was done, he would have driven his point home, she would have realized the severity of her decision and they could move forward. He didn't hold much faith that things would be quite so easy. Nothing had ever been easy for him before, so why should this time be any different? But it had to be done.

Belle bit down hard on her lip, making sure to keep her eyes lowered as he pressed his brow to hers. The contact robbed her breath as she felt him through their bond. He wasn't quite as adept at hiding his emotions through touch as he was at wearing the mask of the Dark One and she fought the sly smile which threatened at her lips as she felt the fear drain from her body. She could feel the anger slowly simmering away somewhere deep within him, but more prevalent was his love for her and uncertainty over what he was about to do, and that uncertainty gave her confidence, reaffirming what she already knew … that he would never hurt her.

"Come along, pet," he commanded, his tone clipped as he held out a hand to her. He was more irritated with himself than her, at the moment, because he was having an inner war with himself to maintain the cold harsh façade needed to teach her this lesson.

Unable to help herself, Belle snorted. "Yes, master," she replied rising to her feet. "Am I to go down to breakfast like this?" She waved a hand at the gold silk nightgown she wore. "Perhaps you have a collar as well for your disobedient pet," she murmured sarcastically under her breath. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten just how acute his hearing was.

His eyes narrowed dangerously as he lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "I could have you go down naked if you'd prefer, though with the hatter still in residence, I think I'd rather have you clothed," he snarked, leaving her there to fetch something from her wardrobe. As if he'd allow anyone other than himself to see his precious girl bared to all, he thought with a huff. He returned moments later with a dress in a deep rich burgundy velvet that made her skin appear even paler than usual.

Belle stood before him, a dark brow arched in challenge as she waited to see what he would do. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth … for all of two seconds … as he whipped the nightgown over her head. Her own smile widened, watching his tongue dart out to wet his lips as his gaze fastened on her breasts, the silk gown slipping from his long spinner's fingers to pool at her feet.

"Something wrong, Rumpel?" she asked silkily, reveling in the shiver which seemed to shake him to his very core. The fingers of his right hand rubbed together as if he were caressing the thread of his wheel, a nervous habit which betrayed his emotions to Belle's keen gaze.

With a superhuman effort, he refrained from reaching out and hauling her against his chest. Now was not the time to let his lust run rampant. There was work to be done. Her face fell with disappointment when he dragged the dress over her head and turned her around to do up the laces at her back. "There," he whispered huskily, his breath fanning out over her ear as he placed his hands on her shoulders and counted to ten. It didn't help.

"Um … darling, you forgot my undergarments," she protested as he turned her around once more to face him.

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, his smug smirk firmly back in place as he tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. "I didn't forget, pet."

"Oh."

"Now, what was it you said about a collar?" he asked, a thin, light-weight golden collar no more than two inches wide appearing in his hand attached to a long golden chain.

Her eyes widened in alarm. "You're not serious!"

"It was your idea," he drawled with an innocent look.

Before she could lift her hands to protectively cover the area, he'd clasped it around the creamy expanse of her throat with a soft snick. He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork, his amber eyes darkening with desire as ideas flooded his mind which had absolutely nothing to do with the lesson he had to teach her. With a gentle tug on the chain … after all, he didn't want to cause her to fall and injure herself … she stumbled forward into him, her hands clinging to his shoulders as his arms swept around her to hold her steady, his lips nearly brushing hers.

"What if someone else had your dagger, pet? They would trot you out proudly before the entire court in nothing but a collar around your beautiful throat and shackles about your delicate wrists," he assured her in a breath of a whisper, raising her unbound hand to his mouth and pressing a tender kiss to the thin tracery of veins in her wrist. She shivered, unable to stop herself in time, and he knew the mental image his words provoked struck fear into her heart. "How would you feel to have all your lovely charms on display for all to see?"

A frown knit her brow as she lowered her eyes and worried at her lower lip, but she held her tongue as he released her and led her from the room to the lower floors of the castle. And he let her stew in her own thoughts until they'd almost reached the Great Hall when he commanded, "Tell me what Winter wrote in that journal to set you on this foolhardy path you've chosen."

She had been forbidden to speak of it, yet found the words tumbling from her mouth, the thrall of the dagger stronger than a kept promise to the enchantress. "True love's joining, heart, life and body, forever will hold the soul and love of the Dark One. Only the greatest sacrifice born of steel, blood and magic will bring the happiness and harmony of the Dark One and his chosen mate … his heart mate."

His teeth gnashed together in fury. Meddlesome harpy! "That's it? That's all the explanation you received to make such a momentous decision?" he asked, the thin gold links of her chain tightening painfully around his hand as he reeled her in. "I can understand the blood of your innocence and an exchange of our magic, but really, Belle, what did you think steel meant?"

Belle reached out to him, her fingers closing over his hand, her eyes beseeching him to understand. "Don't you see that I don't care what price I had to pay to be with you? I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Rum, but in the end it's still my fate to be decided. Mine!" she cried, her voice rising just as hotly as her ire.

"Your fate?! Madam, your fate is irrelevant under the thrall of the dagger!" he yelled back at her as his temper reached its boiling point. "In the hands of your master, your will is stripped from you. What you want, what you need, what you will tolerate is taken from you, leaving you at his mercy! You don't seem to be able to grasp that concept, you stubborn girl!"

"If that was still the only way, I would do it again, Rumpelstiltskin," she hissed furiously, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her chin defiantly, refusing to cower under the weight of his rage.

They were so embroiled in their own little drama they didn't notice when the double doors to the Great Hall opened and Jefferson peered out at them. "Something amiss?" he asked, his voice trailing off at the end, his brow arching dubiously as he noticed the collar around Belle's neck. The newlyweds turned their identical seething gazes on the hatter and he backed away warily. "On second thought … never mind." He pasted a rather maniacal grin on his face and retreated back into the hall to drink his cooling cup of tea.

The sorcerer gave a sharp tug on his wife's chain, leaving her to follow. He kept his steps measured so she wouldn't have trouble keeping up with his longer stride, but he said not another word as he led her down the corridor to the kitchens to let Sarah know they were ready for breakfast in the hall. "Good morning, dearie," he greeted the castellan and his wife upon entering the room.

Marcus's brows disappeared into his hairline, his limbs freezing as he moved to place a covered dish onto the tray at his elbow. Sarah emitted a small squeak of protest as her gaze fastened on the collar, her mouth gaping and her eyes widening incredulously. Belle kept her head down, unable to bear watching the reactions of her friends, trying to keep herself partially hidden behind her angry husband.

"We're ready for the meal whenever you are ready to serve. And Marcus this afternoon I'd like to speak more with you on the matter of visiting the sheep ranch several villages over," Rumpelstiltskin said casually, as if it were an everyday occurrence to lead his wife about on a golden chain. He snatched a freshly buttered cranberry scone from the tray and turned on his heel to return to the hall without another word, leaving his gaping servants behind.

"Seven hells! He did not just lead her in here on a leash!" Sarah screeched at her husband, rounding the worktable to retrieve a heavy black iron skillet from the draining board next to the sink.

Marcus hurriedly moved to intercept her before she could rush headlong into the dining hall and brain the arrogant sorcerer with the pan. "Sarah, stop, love," he admonished, grabbing her arm and yanking the skillet from her hand. "You are not to interfere."

"Lemme go, Marcus!" she hissed in fury. "He's got a bloody leash on her!"

"Are you saying she doesn't deserve whatever punishment he sees fit after what she did?"

"Oh, you would just have to take his side. Men! Always have to stick together. Well, let's see how you like sticking with the couch tonight, lummox!" she seethed.

Marcus sighed in frustration and gazed tenderly at his wife. He'd known how spirited she was before he'd married her and knew how to treat her accordingly … with a gentle hand and soft words … something which calmed and soothed her much better than screaming and a hearty whack to her backside. "Sweetness, look at me," he coaxed. Her luminous hazel eyes blazed passionately as his gaze met hers. "They're married now. They have to work this out for themselves. If there's one thing I know about the imp, he adores Belle. He'll not hurt her."

The fire seemed to burn out of her as she slumped dejectedly against her husband's chest. "But, Marcus, how could he degrade her in such a way? I never expected to see him treat her in such a manner."

"Apparently, he thinks there's a lesson to be learned from this. Leave it alone. You know Belle will only tolerate what she thinks is necessary before she strikes back," he reasoned.

Sarah sighed and raised up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his, melting into his embrace. "You'd better be right, darling, otherwise you will be sleeping on the couch."

He kissed her breathless before releasing her and lifting the tray in his hands, winking roguishly in her direction. "No, I won't. Five minutes alone in that big bed and you'd be joining me on the couch, wrapped around me like a cheap suit."

Sarah tossed a scone at his head, picked up the tea tray and followed him through the door and into the Great Hall, knowing just how right he was but not liking it at all.

*.*.*

Rumpelstiltskin sat in his chair at the head of the massive dining table and tugged on Belle's chain, so she was once again kneeling at his feet to his right. The demon enjoyed seeing the fire blazing from her cerulean eyes, pleased the spinner's beloved wasn't a cowering simpering maid, but had courage and a fiery determination which set her apart from all other women. It made him appreciate the bargain the spinner had made so long ago all the more. Jefferson shifted uncomfortably in his seat to the Dark One's left and reached a hand to his tea cup, thankful when Sarah didn't dump the brew in his lap in her distraction. He was thinking Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't fare quite so well and should pour his own.

He ignored the hatter and his servants and spread some cranberry preserves onto a scone. He held it out for Belle to take a bite, wanting to see her hunger satisfied before he indulged himself. As she took the last bite, she nipped his finger with her sharp teeth, sending a jolt of electricity spiraling up his arm. He smiled devilishly down at her obstinate features and brushed a stray curl over her shoulder, one long finger trailing around her ear before he placed it under her chin to tilt her face up to his.

"Haven't you ever heard the expression 'don't bite the hand that feeds you'?" he snarked.

"Give me a moment and I'll bite more than your hand," she returned, glaring hotly at him.

Jefferson guffawed loudly and then nearly choked on a bit of bacon as his friend glared furiously at him. "Well," he sputtered, hastily finishing off his tea. "I do believe I need to be going. Gracie's with her auntie and she'll be wondering after me if I'm not home in time for her afternoon tea party."

Rumpelstiltskin held out his hand to the hatter and shook it, not something he normally did with those he dealt with. "Thank you for being here for the wedding, Hatter."

Jefferson gave a formal bow and winked at Belle who ducked her head with a blush. "My pleasure, Rum. Do call on me again should you need my services." He inclined his head again in Belle's direction. "Milady, it was lovely meeting you."

"And you as well, Jefferson," Belle replied as politely as she could manage from her ignoble position at her husband's feet.

Belle's heart skipped a beat as the hatter disappeared through the double doors and the locks began clicking around the room, sealing her in with her husband whose grin had grown positively wicked. "Rum —"

He patted his knee. "Come, precious. Sit in my lap," he purred, his voice taking on a deeper pitch which sent gooseflesh spreading along her arms and wetness pooling between her legs. Gods, no man should be able to do that with just a few softly uttered words, she thought irritably. She rose shakily to her feet and did as he bid, letting him pull her onto his lap with her back against his chest and her legs on either side of his knees. She shrieked, startled as he spread his legs, bringing hers along with his. Her lips parted on a gasp as she felt cool air rush over her bared legs beneath her skirt to caress her heated flesh.

He brought his lips to the low neckline of her gown and nipped gently at the sensitive crook where her neck met her shoulder, his tongue sliding sinuously beneath the golden collar, his hands caressing her hips in gentle soothing circles, his nails teasing through the fabric of her voluminous skirts. If this was his idea of punishment, she thought, he could continue indefinitely.

"Isn't it nice not to have to dine before your father's court, my sweet? To have them see you enslaved to the Dark One, forced to bow and scrape to his will?" he asked, the flat of his tongue rasping hotly against the smooth column of her throat and drawing a whimper from her parted lips. "Ah, but then you wouldn't have minded it at all, would you, pet? You love me, after all. Just not enough to trust I love you the same. Not enough to trust I would never let you go," he purred, his hands dragging her skirt up over her knees.

Some small part of her brain, the one which wasn't overwhelmed with the fire coursing through her blood and the heat pooling in her belly, was sending massive warning signals she should be wary of the silken seductiveness of his voice, but she was too inflamed to pay heed to it. "Rumpel …" she murmured, her head rolling back on his shoulder, giving him better access to her neck and her eyes slamming shut from the sheer pleasure of his mouth on her skin. She raised her arm and looped it around his neck, her hand grabbing tightly to his hair to hold him in place, afraid in his desire to punish her, he would leave her.

He trailed the nails of his right hand along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, from her knee to the crease which met the apex of her thighs, his touch never quite reaching where she longed for it most. His left traveled from her hip, over her side and delving into the bodice of her gown to cup her breast. She cried out, bucking her hips as his fingers closed tightly over her nipple, fire sparking through to her core and making her seek his hand, needing the pressure to relieve the ache between her legs. He shifted beneath her, trying to relieve his own ache where it pressed into the small of her back, needing the contact, the friction with her just as badly as she did.

"What do you want, precious?" he asked, dropping his head back against the back of the chair and grinding his teeth together as he fought for some semblance of control to prevent himself from bending her over the table and slipping into her welcoming heat.

"You … need you … need you to touch me," she panted, completely lost to the sensations evoked from his questing hands.

He strengthened his resolve as he slipped his slender fingers along her slit and parted her folds, pressing his thumb tightly to her clit and reveling in the sound of her mewling cries of pleasure. He took a deep breath and groaned as the sound went straight to his engorged cock and he pulled her back against his arousal, his lips going to her ear as his fingers slipped past the tight ring of muscles at her core and her slick inner folds clasping tightly around his digits and pulling him deeper within her. He bit down on her shoulder to muffle his own cry. He needed to be done with this, so he could carry her upstairs and put an end to the torture they were both suffering.

"Belle, my sweet," he crooned. She turned her head, unmindful of her wrecked state, seeking his lips with hers, needing the intimacy of his mouth on hers. He denied her, his voice and breath teasing deliciously at her ear. "Listen to me, pet," he implored, gentling his movements to a teasing caress, his thumb circling her clit now instead of giving her the direct contact she craved. "Are you paying attention, my errant little love?"

Belle slowly opened her eyes and focused on him, something in her trying to make her see the importance of what he was going to say. She nodded shakily, her hand tightening on his forearm she clung to, bracing herself for what was to come.

He removed his hands from her, resting them on the arms of the chair, leaving her bereft without his touch and burning in frustration and need. "Close your eyes so I can show you something." He pressed his brow to hers and projected a scene of horror into her mind's eye. "Can you see it, pet? Can you see what it would be like if someone like that fool Gaston controlled you or worse yet, that idiot Byron from your father's court," he said, using examples of men she fairly despised. "Would you be drowning in pleasure from their touch as you do mine?"

Belle shrank away from the images he projected into her mind, curling on her side on his lap and burying her face against his chest, trembling with the fear they caused. She saw herself naked and helpless, forced to obey their will as they touched her just as her husband had, only the love she could feel in Rumpelstiltskin's touch was a cruel and bitter poison in theirs. The imp withdrew from her before her imaginary masters could violate her, having her only see a few seconds worth, but just enough to leave her shaken.

He wrapped his arms about her, smoothing his hands over her long, unbound hair and over the smooth curve of her back, his voice crooning softly to her, assuring her she was safe with him. "Hush, dear heart, you're safe. But can you see now? Can you see how foolhardy were your actions? Belle, in the wrong hands, you could experience this and so much worse. What if your master ordered you to kill … someone you loved, a friend … your father? Sarah? A child we may have one day?"

"But —"

"Belle!" He cursed under his breath. Was there no end to her willful stubbornness? "There is no room for protests. It would destroy you to harm someone … anyone … and you know it."

"I'd never … never harm someone I cared for, dagger or no," she insisted, brushing the tears from her face.

He set her on her feet and flinched away from the darkness clouding his features. He paced before the hearth, fighting a losing battle with his beastly temper. His warm amber eyes were nearly black as pitch when he turned to give her his attention and Belle took a step back, fearful. He was wearing the true face of the Dark One and she didn't know him like this, didn't want to know him like this.

The Dark One stopped before her and grasped her chin in a firm grip, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You really think yourself stronger than the dagger, dearie?" he said, a maniacal giggle trilling from his lips. "Then let's put it to the test, shall we? Go into the kitchen, pick up a knife from the butcher's block and drive it into Sarah's heart."

Belle's mouth fell open in a cry of pain, her heart feeling as if it were shattering into a million multicolored shards, followed by pure terror as her legs began to move against her will, the task given her most prevalent in her mind. The desire to fulfill it was stronger than any she'd ever felt before and she knew for the first time in her life that there was something greater than her magic, something greater than her goodness or the light which flourished within her. She'd taken on a part of his curse without thinking of the repercussions of her actions and now she was left with no recourse but to obey the small measure of darkness within her. Tears slipped silently from her lashes as she moved toward the door, her soul screaming for someone to help her.

His voice came to her as her pale hand closed over the door handle, his arms wrapping about her waist and pulling her back into the cocoon of his embrace. "I rescind the order," he whispered, his voice carrying its own weight of pain from making her believe he'd let her kill her friend. She collapsed back against his chest, her sobs shaking her petite frame as tears washed over her ashen face. "Belle, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," he whispered, burying his face in her hair and breathing in her soft floral scent. "I swear to you, I never would have let you harm a hair on her head. But I had to make you see."

"Gods, wh-what am I going to do, Rumpel? I could have hurt her, and I couldn't stop it." she cried, turning in his arms as he deftly lifted her and bore her to the table, setting her on the smooth surface. He ran his hands briskly over her upper arms, trying to restore some of her warmth. She fisted her hands in the lapels of his waistcoat, her eyes searching his face. "I'm sorry. I'll never do something like that without talking to you first. I know you were only trying to protect me." She poked him with her sharp nail, causing him to wince. "You could have been a bit gentler in your methods, however."

He pulled her against his chest and gently pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss of apology. "Belle, if you had talked to me, we could have found another way to be together without you falling prey to Winter's manipulations."

She shivered and brought her legs to wrap about his hips, bringing him closer so she could fully envelop him in her embrace. "I couldn't … I can't lose you, Rumpel. And I trust you to keep my dagger safe."

He drew back to look down into her luminous cerulean eyes, amazed she wasn't running from him. "You … um … you still love me?" he asked, his age-old insecurities evident in his voice. He'd never felt worthy of love and he more than anyone freely admitted he didn't deserve his darling girl. "You still want to be with me after what I put you through?"

"Oh, Rumpel," she tsked, sighing as she carded her fingers through the soft curls at his temple. "Even when you were trying to be a beast and a monster, you couldn't do it. I love you, all of you, and I'll fight every day of my life, if I must, to be with you. You are worth fighting for. And just as I regret the fact that I can be controlled with my dagger, I do not regret binding myself to you. You're mine and I'll never let you go."

He took the dagger from his belt, resting it in her palm as he conjured a velvet cloth. She immediately felt the power of her will return to her, spreading through her being and allowing her to breathe easy for the first time in hours. He wrapped the cloth around the blade and secured it with a piece of his own golden cord, binding it securely and taking it from her.

"Wait here, love," he said, pressing a kiss to her brow.

"Where are you going?" she asked, wrapping her arms about herself to still the trembling that wouldn't seem to leave her.

"To put this with its mate … somewhere no one will ever find them. Our power is our own, Belle, and I will die before I allow anyone to control you," he vowed, vanishing in a blink to fulfill his promise.

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