Many thanks for the beta eyes of Luthien, without whose help you'd be subjected to my awful dialogue punctuation and tendency towards emotional distance. :) And many, many thanks to you all for your patience.

...

One bag of potatoes, some dried carrots, three desiccated onions, two dried apples, and the oats were all that remained in the larder. Gifts from the tavern were smaller and, by silent agreement, kept mostly for Bae. A couple of eggs here and there and the occasional shreds of meat or a soup bone were all Granny could spare anymore. With the roads still impassable, too many people marooned in a small village made the late season lean.

Belle tightened the laces on her blue dress. She was far from starving, but could not remember a time when she'd ever had to truly go without. Not even during the war.

But Bae was smiling and the tips of the trees were beginning to thicken with new buds.

With a quiet smile, Belle poured a fresh cup of pine needle tea. The sharp brew was refreshing enough, though far from her favorite. She would share a single cup of real tea with Rumple later.

If she was very careful, there was enough left to make it until the crocuses bloomed.

…

Bae brought back half a scrawny chicken and a few coppers. No one really cared about the money anymore, for it wasn't much use if there was nothing to buy. The hunk of chicken, however, might as well have been a goose.

"Papa, there's a new stable boy and he likes to ride Friend, too!"

Belle and Rumple exchanged glances. "Who is he?" Rumplestiltskin asked.

"I don't know. It's a grown-up." Bae watched as Belle carefully portioned the meat, clenching her fingers to control the shaking that threatened to
begin, and set some aside with the bones for soup. "He said I could keep any extra eggs if I found them."

With measured care, Belle smiled. "Oh! That's nice, Bae." She focused on the cutting board. Rumplestiltskin patted her shoulder, soothing her nerves. "How did Friend look?" Belle listened to Bae's feet scurrying across the floor and imagined him dancing over their game board. Maybe a few games would help her relax.

"Strong. The stable boy says he can walk in the snow and ice without slipping at all. Can I take him for a ride? Please, Papa?"

"Um, perhaps…" Belle heard Rumple hesitate and looked up. He was wringing his hands and looking everywhere but at her.

Seeing Rumplestiltskin struggling, unsure of how to answer, Belle set her knife down and wiped her hands. "Bae, how about we all go for a ride soon?"

"Can we?" Bae bounced and looked from one carefully bland face to the other. "Really, Papa?"

"We'll see, son. Soon."

…

At supper, Rumple passed a bowl of soup to Bae and then another to Belle, who was handing out spoons and setting out the bread. Belle sat and filled her cup with pine needle tea, enjoying the sound of the silver against the bowls and Bae's tired, happy chatter.

She knew the soup was thin, but there was butter enough for Bae and the tea smelled nice, so she closed her eyes and was thankful for another quiet day. Belle took the loaf from Rumple and was about to tear a piece off when he froze suddenly, shushing Bae.

There was slow movement outside. Plodding, heavy footfalls. Then she heard it… The bray of a donkey.

She didn't realize how badly her hands were shaking until Rumple took the loaf back and tore a piece off for her.

…

Belle slopped the last batch of wet linens over a line. Sunshine that had been anemic for so long was now warm on her face and the sheets and cloths would dry faster for it. While no one would accuse the breeze of being anything but chilly, it was a far cry from the biting, gnawing cold they'd endured for so long.

She couldn't help smiling in spite of everything. There was something wonderful about being outside and still able to feel your fingers. The donkeys seemed no more than a faded nightmare.

Rumple and Bae would be happy to have fresh clothes when they got back from a delivery. Though lunch would be the last of the meat until Bae's aim with his sling improved, she used some of her dried herbs and a dash of salt for extra flavor. Anything left could be baked in a bit of pastry for Bae.

There was just enough tea left for that night. She and Rumple would share it before having to switch to pine needles entirely. She set the teabox in a place of honor and made sure the latch was secure. It wouldn't do to spill it now. She would have scrounged the floor and wiped each bit clean to make sure they could savor it later, drinking from their damaged cups; his dented, hers chipped.

Imperfect as they were, they still worked. She wouldn't have it any other way.

Familiar voices outside grew louder and the door swung open. "We're home, Belle."

"How was town? Did you see Ruby?" Belle asked as she put folded clothes into a cupboard. There was no answer but the soft thump-step of the staff. She turned and saw only Rumple. He was ashen. "Where's Bae?"

He swallowed. "Out front. Tying your horse." He unrolled a parchment and handed it to her. "The new stable boy has a stack of these. They'll be posted tomorrow."

Belle scanned the heavy script. The words were carefully chosen, the intent clear. "That's a very large reward," Belle said, her heart beginning to pound.

Rumple nodded, pale and tight lipped. "It is."

"No one in town would be able to resist."

"Not likely."

Belle looked over the poster. "How did you get one?"

"I didn't." Rumple looked over his shoulder. "The stable boy gave one to Bae when he visited Friend."

"Oh." The edges crinkled in her grasp, rippling her unwieldy given name with the parchment. "Tell… tell Bae lunch is ready, and that he can give Friend the rest of the carrots."

…

Belle put on her warm travel dress and her thick stockings, now mended four times. Bae packed food and filled skins with fresh water while Rumple filled his satchel with spools of thread. If he carried his wares, he could claim his tradesman status to gain access anywhere, and Belle could keep her hood lowered if things went wrong.

At this point, she wasn't sure exactly what they'd do if things went right.

She tossed the poster into the fire, watching as her name slowly blackened until it was devoured by flame.

…

The horse pranced when Belle came out, hefting her travel bag. "Hello again, my friend. Are you up for another little trip?" Rumple took her bag and hooked it onto the saddle. The horse shook his mane. "Good." Her voice caught. "Because it should be a short trip. Then we'll come right back." Belle leaned against the horse's neck and stroked the well groomed coat. "I'll build you a nice stable right here by the house and you can run in the woods all you want. Bae would love that. Would you like that, too?"

She petted the horse's neck until Rumplestiltskin flipped a length of rope around the horse's chest and formed a few turns into a lead.

Strong, lean arms wrapped her from behind and hugged her close. "Time to go."

Belle held on, digging her fingers under Rumple's cloak, pressing into the sleeves to feel him. The sun was so nice, and the first leaves had begun to peek from the tree buds. "I would love to see your home in spring."

"You will."

Clutching his shabby cloak, she turned in his arms and pulled him down for a kiss.

…

They took turns riding with Bae, letting one rest while the other walked. The slow melt of early spring turned much of the road into a sticky sludge, and Rumplestiltskin used the rope lead to guide the horse to stay on the flatter, drier portions of the road, avoiding the last patches of ice and snow.

There were deep cuts in the mud, dried here and there in ruts and ridges.

"A loaded carriage came this way since the last hard freeze. Not more than a fortnight ago," Rumple said as he pushed a clod of mud with his staff.

Belle stared at the road from atop the horse. "My father. Must have been almost the same time as the… the clerics." She stared at the tracks and gave a mirthless laugh. "The King must be very bored indeed."

Bae looked over his shoulder at her. "What do you mean?"

Belle handed a skin of water to Bae. "He must have had those posters printed in advance. Once the clerics and my father arrived, he sent a messenger to the new stable boy to make sure we got one. He made certain we would be at Longbourne as quickly as possible." She took the skin back and handed it to Rumple. "It was hardly a risk on his part."

Rumple drank deeply. "No villager would resist a hundred gold pieces."

Bae shrugged. "You did."

From her high vantage point, Belle could see Rumplestiltskin's gait change from measured to faintly wobbly for a moment. He tested a patch of mud with the end of his staff and mumbled. "That's different, Bae."

"How? Was she paying for the room?"

Rumple gave the rope a yank, urging the horse to keep moving. "Of course not. She was our… guest."

…

The aftermath of war was more evident as they neared Longbourne. Despite the harsh winter, it was clear that activity had never stopped near the province seat. Sloppy roads had been maintained with heavy traffic and regular shoveling, shored up in places with cartload upon cartload of gravel and lined by large rocks. Everything else was branches and brambles. Belle's eyes blurred needled evergreens with the bare bark into a muddy mix, cut through by the road.

Belle and Rumple were walking together, neither wanting to sit anymore. Sitting meant rocking back and forth in the saddle and Belle could stomach it no longer. Best to place one foot in front of the other and keep her eyes on the… white lumps?

"Are those tents?" Belle squinted to get a clear view through the tree limbs.

"Aye. As many as twenty, I think."

She drew in a burning breath. "Dangerous?"

"Hard to say." Rumple turned and looked at her. "We aren't quite close enough to the city for shanties or clerics. They're probably refugees." He swallowed. "We may have some trouble getting by quietly."

Belle felt her eyes sting. Refugees could be from her home lands or even Avonlea. "Wait. I have something." She pulled a flap of her travel bag open and drew out her fullest coin bag. It jangled heavily in her hands. "How much?"

"What?" Rumple frowned.

"To buy us passage."

He refused to take the lumpy bag. "I can't take that. It's yours. Besides, they'll remember you."

"I'll keep my hood low, you give them the money." She held the bag out and shook her head when he tried to step away. "It was part of my getaway plan, my escape from home. I didn't know what I was doing then." Belle pushed it into his hand and reached back to loosen up her hood. All she had left was the other, nearly empty bag. Just a few coppers and silvers and that was all; enough for them to eat for a few days.

Rumple clutched the bag. "Do you know now?"

Those coins were meant to keep her until she was home, free, or safe. "Yes." She flipped the hood over her head, tugged it down, and started to walk. "I don't need it anymore."

…

Belle's heart pounded for a long time after they passed the tent village. The refugees barely glanced at her and the horse she led as they called out to Rumple, who gingerly pressed coins into the hands of the children who ran up to him.

"May the Fates bless you, sir!"

"Gods keep you and your family!"

When the bag was empty, the crowd dispersed and let them by, blessings shouted at them as they passed. A little girl gave Rumplestiltskin a crocus bud, not quite opened, yet deep purple streaked with green and white.

Belle circled round the horse and brought Rumplestiltskin the lead once they were away, eager to be free of the rope. Rumple's hands were both occupied, one by his staff and the other with the fragile flower. Through watery eyes, Belle watched as he made a slight bow, holding the bud out to her.

"If you'll have it."

"Thank you." She traded the lead for the flower and pulled him close, wiping her eyes on his shoulder.

…

Billowing smoke dragged a lazy path through the trees, filling the air with the smell of char as they walked. The outer wall of the city was ahead, and soldiers were encamped on either side of the road. There was no way to pass without being noticed.

Rumplestiltskin pulled the stuffed bread from the travel bag and tore a piece off for Bae, who swallowed bites without chewing. He held a piece out to Belle. "Hungry?"

She shook her head. "I'll be sick if I eat."

"Pretend, then." She took a piece and they watched as others approached the gates. A soldier flicked a hand at a man's hood, and the man lowered it as his wife lowered hers. Another traveler's cart was uncovered and checked before being waved through the gate.

Belle's lips trembled. "We'll never get past them," she whispered.

Rumple pointed to the near edge of one camp. "Or them." Hooded figures stood in a formation near a group of tied donkeys. "We have to get by them first."

Belle's mouth dropped open in horror. "We'll go to another gate."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "Every entrance will be like this."

"We'll run. Scream."

He leaned heavily on his staff and looked pointedly at Bae. The boy, not hearing their hushed conversation, simply smiled and took another bite.

Smoke swirled around them, stinging Belle's eyes as much as her anger and frustration. "It can't end like this." She stomped on the rocks, letting the pain in her feet answer the one in her heart. "It just can't!" Belle fought the shaking in her hands by clenching her fists and paced, drawing in deep breaths, gasping for calm, kicking bits of gravel free. They bounced uselessly; as useless as she was. Belle sat on one of the large boulders lining the road, running her wind chapped hands through her hair and tugging until the roots gave her something to feel.

Rage and fear scraped at her insides. She'd failed. Everything she'd done was pointless. All the time was wasted. All she'd gained… lost. She held it in until her lungs burned, dragging out a sob. Belle cried, covering her face and cursing her foolishness. In minutes, she quieted, ashamed for her outburst but no closer to an answer.

Rumplestiltskin had been quiet, letting her vent her anger, but when she finally looked up he was staring at the horse.

"What?" Belle's voice cracked. "Is there something wrong with him?"

"It doesn't have to end this way," he said, holding up the lead. "If you don't want it to."

Her eyes widened in horror. The rope lead. His rope. The rope. Belle blinked, trying to see clearly. "What are you saying?"

"I'm a coward, Belle." He dropped the lead and hobbled to her, his staff knocking loose gravel free in chunks before clattering to the ground as he knelt before her. "But you're not. There is a way, if you can be brave."

…

The ropes were firm but did not bite her flesh as she walked. Rumple held the horse by the reins as Belle walked behind him, her hood off and her wrists bound together, tied to the saddle. No one could mistake them as man and wife, or anything other than captor and prisoner.

They neared the edge of the clerics' camp. "Belle, are you all right? The soldiers will have seen us by now."

She held her head up. She was no commoner. Not today. Not when there was so much at stake. "I'm fine."

"Good," he said, barely loud enough to reach her ears as the first clerics noticed them –her—and roused others. "Because I'm not."

"Keep walking. Don't slow down." In the distance, Belle could see a team of mounted soldiers start towards them.

As they walked, the clerics gathered by the road on either side. "It's her!" Their sharp faces contorted. Flecks of spit flew from their lips as they jeered.

One lurched closer, flickering his hands in the air as if batting at flies. "Demon's whore."

"The bishop will cleanse the meat from your bones!"

One leered, cupping himself and making vulgar thrusts at her. "Not before he prepares her first…"

Belle fought it, but couldn't help flinching. Do the brave thing…

Rumplestiltskin's shoulders rose higher, cringing from the onslaught even as the heavy thud of the horses' hooves grew louder. Refusing to bow her head, she kept her arms extended, making a show of the rope that extended from the saddle.

The clergy surrounded them on all sides, slowing their progress. In the corner of her eye, a terrified Bae lay down on the horse's back and neck, clinging to the mane. Belle pressed into the flank, trying to protect herself with her bound hands. A hand raked into her hair, pulling to make her expose her throat, as others tried to bend her elbows back.

"Belle!" Rumple cried, unable to reach her, held back by a row of hooded wraiths.

"Enough!" A voice roared from above. Horses pounded the road bed with armored hooves, driving the cluster of bent demi-men away. "Get back!"

The hand in her hair yanked away, snapping strands painfully from her head. "We'll have you yet, slag."

"Use that tongue again and I'll cut it out, heretic."

Bae suddenly sprang up in the saddle. "It's you!"

The soldier inclined his armored head. "I might say the same, sticky boy."

"Hordor?" Rumplestiltskin said. The other soldiers pushed back the crowd and guarded their space in the road. When the clerics were away, with a wall of swords and prickly soldiers separating them, Belle stepped away from the horse, disheveled and relieved.

The mounted soldier bent forward and pulled his helmet off, the face shield clanking on the hinge. "You make good time. I didn't expect you for hours, Spinner." He dropped down from his warhorse with a thump she could feel through her boots and presented himself to Belle with a stiff bow. "Lady Isabelle, forgive us. It was necessary." He gestured to the now pacified clerics.

Angry now but still short of breath and unsteady on her feet, Belle did her best to sound dignified. "Necessary for what?"

"To determine intent, Lady." Hordor tapped his insignia, King George's emblem. "Intent is everything." He tossed his helmet to one of his men and mounted his horse, making no move to relieve her of her bonds. "We will escort you to the castle. You are expected."

…

If there was a difference between her protective guards at Avonlea and those who held her under suspicion of treason at Longbourne, Belle could not see it. Only the careful wrapping of rope marked her change in position.

The paved walkway through the courtyard was lined with gawkers and market-day shoppers, their baskets full of early spring offerings. When the soldiers dismounted, Rumplestiltskin helped Bae down and untied the rope from the saddle. Belle watched as her horse was led away with the soldier's mounts, the groom assuring Rumplestiltskin that his horse would be looked after.

Belle, aware of the inherent symbolism, stayed behind Rumplestiltskin and held her head high. The soldiers parted the crowd, splitting the courtyard's market day bustle down the middle until they reached the stairs leading to the great doors of the castle.
Hordor pounded the door and a metal plate slid away. "I am Hordor, chief guard to King George and agent of his throne. Is the King at his court?" Hordor intoned.

"He is," shouted the guard within. "What affair have you brought?"

"I bring the Lady Isabelle, daughter of the Marquise at Avonlea of the Marchlands. She…" He paused and looked over his shoulder. "She has been captured and brought to give testimony."

"The court awaits." The plate slammed shut and the screech of metal heralded the unbarring of the doors. Belle's heart raced at the sound, pounding in her chest hard enough to make her catch her breath.

She'd made it, but at what cost? And who would bear the cost? She knew what waited behind the gilded doorways, engraved panels, and stained glass, but did Rumple? Her skin crawled at the idea of the traps and false facades inside. Her courage flagged, and her feet remained stubbornly rooted.

With the change in the rope's tension, Rumplestiltskin turned. For the first time since they were joined by the guards, she saw his face. It was drawn, pleading. Ever so lightly, he tugged at the rope with one hand, the other holding Bae's hand tightly.

"Belle?"

She set her feet in motion.

…

At least a hundred people, including a handful of minstrels, ladies in waiting, and the King's council lined the great hall at Longbourne. Banners of all the houses of the realm, including Belle's own, hung from heavy beams anchored in the buttresses overhead. Massive panels of stained and engraved wood, magnificently lit chandeliers of wrought iron, and flashing, over-dyed silks blinded Belle with their contrasts and colors. Courtesans and social climbers hopped and twittered to get away from her, pulling at their ridiculously wide skirts to avoid brushing them against her.

She wasn't even dirty.

The milling around, stage whispers, and falsely sympathetic cooing grew louder and louder. The women fluttered fans and the men nearest raked her with their eyes in silent appraisal. Other men hurried through the crowd to the other side of the hall where gray hair and somber clothes reigned.

A caped herald raised his staff and slammed it against the floor. "Your Majesty, La Fille de Marquis Isabelle Marie deFiler Patrie and…" The herald paused in confusion as Hordor whispered in his ear. "And… The Spinner."

The knot of dignified greybeards parted, revealing a somberly dressed man standing at a long table with only one chair.

"Lady Isabelle! I have not seen you since you were in short skirts." The King rose and walked around the table. His advisors rushed out of his way, black velvet flapping like crows' wings. "You have grown so lovely, my dear."

Belle curtseyed low, and the King took her hands to raise her back up. Fingers lingered on the ropes. "Hordor, what is this?" He slipped a curved, engraved knife from his belt. "Forgive him, dear. He is a skilled soldier, but an oaf at court." King George slid the blade carefully under the rope and cut her free.

He rubbed her wrists. "We've no need of this now, do we?" He smiled as he turned quickly and handed the cut end of the rope to Hordor. Rumplestiltskin stood in silence, still holding the other end.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." She flexed her hands, but kept her arms at her sides, careful to appear modest and calm, even though she wanted to hide.

The king's heavy chair was brought and a small table with a chalice set beside it. "I am told, dear child, that you broke your engagement with Sir Gaston and fled your homeland. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Why? To plot against me?"

Her cloak and travel dress were suddenly too warm. "No, Sire. I fled because the people of Avonlea were desperate after the war. Had I married Sir Gaston, he would have gutted what was left of my home."

"Are you suggesting that I, as your sovereign, would not have rebuilt the province that had defended my kingdom from invasion?"

"No, Sire!" She was starting to sweat. This was not what she had expected. "Gaston had ruined the markets and did not use the resources at hand to restore Avonlea and the surrounding villages. Nothing we produced was at the market, and the best lumber, lumber we could have used to rebuild the city, was given to…" She squeezed her eyes in a hard blink. "Given to the clerics. There was talk of treason."

"Ahh. Yes." The King ignored the chair but held out the exquisite glass cup. It was instantly filled. "Tactless little thieves and disciples. So you objected to the clerics taking residence in Avonlea."

She sighed in relief. "Yes, Sire."

"But not to accepting the advice of their degenerate golem, The Dark One."

A collective gasp, like a whip's flight, echoed in the great hall. Belle's mouth fell open. "I- I didn't-"

"Yes you did, Lady," he bent and whispered in her ear. "You set me free."

She stared, unable to breathe, and could see it. The skin was smooth and the eyes human, but the smirk, last seen in shadow from under a hood in her childhood courtyard, was the same.

The King drank deeply as the court churned with activity and Belle's heart pounded, her knees turning to water. He toyed with his cup, spinning it thoughtfully, and the whispers quieted. The dregs of wine left bloody streaks on the blown glass.

...