He could follow her, make sure she arrived back in Avonlea safe and sound. Or just keep watch over her with his crystal ball. Or he could move on to more productive work. After all, he had the next 30 or so years to find a way to earn her love. Plenty of time. He forced his fingers to unclench, his body to relax. He picked up her chipped tea cup. How she changed in half a year. He thought back to her first night, the look on her face when she dropped the cup. She was so scared that I would hurt her. Over a chip that I could have fixed in an instant had I wanted to…. "It's just a cup." His words echoed throughout the Hall; they didn't sound very convincing. He forced himself to stand, to walk over to the tea tray and place the cup on it. Some men keep locks of hair, or a glove, or a ribbon as a memento of their loved one; I have a chipped tea cup, he laughed bitterly.
He resolutely walked out of the Hall in the direction of his tower. He had work to do. Within a very short time frame he would have hairs from both Snow White and her Prince Charming, and he needed to refresh his memory on how to create a True Love Potion. A drop or two of this potion on the parchment would ensure that even in a place without magic, Snow and Charming's daughter could use the power inherent to True Love's Kiss to break his Curse. And a small bottle placed in just the right spot at just the right time would bring magic to the Land Without Magic, magic he would use to find Bae. Magic he could use to win Belle. He just had to be patient for 30 more years….
0-0
Rumplestiltskin was grateful that it was spring. Even though the days were still a bit chilly and snow still a possibility, the steady early evening sunlight was a welcome alternative to flickering candlelight to read by. He felt something, someone, Belle! brushing past his wards to enter the grounds. He carelessly threw the book down and ran to a window to watch her walk up the road. You came back! In an instant, all the reasons he had for sending Belle away were ignored. She was given the freedom to return to her family, live a normal life, and she chose to return to the Dark Castle, to him. Surely he had enough self-restraint to keep their relationship platonic, to keep them the way they had been for the last month or so. And for the first time in a very long time, he was simply happy. His feelings of sadness, loss, humiliation, all negative feelings disappeared; he reveled in the sight of her return and the knowledge that of all the choices she could have made, she chose him.
He sprinted to the Great Hall, belatedly remembering that he could have teleported himself much faster and not needed additional magic to make it look like he hadn't just been running through the Castle. He settled onto his stool at the spinning wheel and began spinning only moments before Belle strolled through the doors at the far end, a basketful of straw on one arm and her folded over cloak in the other.
He ruthlessly suppressed a goofy grin of pure happiness and stated as nonchalantly as possible, "Oh, you're back already. Good. Good thing. I'm, uh... I'm nearly out of straw." I sound like an idiot. And by that smile on her face, she thinks so, too.
Belle tossed her cloak onto the back of his chair as she crossed the room. "Hmm." She put down the basket near the wheel and peered through the spokes. "Come on, you're happy that I'm back," she teased.
The goofy grin escaped, "I'm not unhappy."
Belle walked around the wheel to put her hands on his shoulders. "And, ah, you promised me a story," she said into his ear.
At her light touch, his mind went almost completely blank. "Did I?" he asked as if in a daze. He wasn't trying to be evasive; his mind and hands seemed to be rather numb. All he could feel was the slight pressure of her hands on his shoulders. It was a different experience from the floaty, dis-jointed feelings he normally got.
"Mm-hmm." Belle removed the wool and yarn from his lax fingers, sat next to him on the wheel, and placed her hand on his thigh. "Tell me about your son," she beseeched.
Rumplestiltskin relentlessly forced his brain and body back to normal. He thought it was not quite fair that the body contact that reduced his thoughts to incoherency apparently had no effect on her…. He was definitely over-reacting to her return and her touch. It was far more likely that she returned simply because, with no money of her own, she had no way of getting back to her father. "Uh... I lost him," he answered softly. "There's nothing more to tell, really."
"And since then, you've loved no one, and no one has loved you." She sounded so earnest, so concerned.
His heart started pounding in his chest. Is she saying that she loves me? "Why did you come back?" he whispered, leaning towards her. His eyes stared into hers as if he could penetrate into her brain and extract her thoughts.
"I wasn't going to," she admitted shyly, "But," her gaze dropped to his mouth, then fluttered back up to his eyes. By all the gods, I think she's going to kiss me. "Then... something changed my mind." He stilled in shock and hope; Belle bent forward a bit, using her hand on his thigh as a brace. Her eyes flickered down and up again. Her facial expressions waffled between fear of rejection and hope and longing as she swayed nearer; her gaze lingered just a bit longer on his mouth. Her eyes slid closed as he gave in to his own desires and moved the last inch to press his lips against hers.
Rumplestiltskin had kissed only a few women over the course of his long lifetime, and dreamed over and over of kissing Belle. However, all previous experiences, both real and imagined, paled in comparison to the feelings evoked by this single chaste kiss. He closed his eyes, the better to experience the ecstasy of finally kissing the woman he loved, who by some miracle seemed to love him too. As their lips caressed each other, he could feel the darkness in his soul melting away. He ended the kiss gently, moaning. "Oh." I love you. He stopped himself from saying those words, bewildered at why the melting sensations continued and at an abrupt magical yank from his dagger. "What's happening?"
Belle was excited. She used both hands to caress his hair. "Kiss me again," she cried happily, "It's working!"
"What is?" He winced at the sudden ache in his right ankle.
"Any curse can be broken!"
Rumplestiltskin threw himself backwards, knocking over his stool, excrutiating pains shooting up his right leg. The Curse is breaking? "Who told you that!?" he demanded. "Who knows that!?" He glared at his hands, watched in horror as the sparkly golden-green lizard skin receded past his wrists leaving his old skin tone behind and the black claws that had replaced his fingernails shrank and paled. She's broken the Dark One's Curse! He could feel the pull of the dagger as he had never felt it before, fighting to keep a hold on him while the Kiss's light magic fought to release him from it. What the Hell have we done! I can't lose my magic! I can't lose my power! I can't!
"I… I… I don't know." Belle was stuttering and confused at his rejection, unable to complete a sentence. "She, ah... she… she…."
She? She who? Regina! Regina did this? "'She,'" he spat. He stormed across the room to a mirror and yanked its coverings off. "You... evil... soul," he snarled. "This was you! You turned her against me!" he yelled at it. He yielded unconditionally to the power of the dagger, fully accepting the fate and persona of the Dark One, eradicating the effects of the Kiss. "You think you can make me weak?" he taunted. "You think you can defeat me!?" Well, you can't Dearie! I chose magic and power over my own son; did you really think an unsuspecting girl could achieve what he couldn't?
Belle came up behind him, still confused over what had happened. "Who are you talking to?"
The Dark One's outlandish deportment had taken Rumplestiltskin years to perfect. And over the last few months, he had relaxed his guard with Belle, let the man he once was come forward. No more. "The Queen!" he trilled at the mirror. Bitch! He spun to face Belle, "Your friend, the Queen!" He changed from flamboyant to predator. "How did she get to you?" he sneered and started to prowl towards the frightened girl.
"The… the Queen? I don't…" Belle was frozen with fear and confusion. Like a mouse being stalked by a snake, she stared helplessly as he approached.
"I knew this was a trick," he interrupted, "I knew you could never care for me. Oh, yeah. You're working for her. Or is this all you? Is this you being the hero and killing the beast?"
At that accusation Belle found her voice; she grabbed his hands, "It was working!" she pleaded.
Rumplestiltskin yanked his hands away. Even through the anger and pain coursing though his body, her touch was a drug he had trouble resisting; to give in would be to give up everything important. "Shut up!" he commanded.
"This means it's true love!" Belle tried to hold him again.
He pushed her away, screaming, "Shut the hell up!" You've ruined this!
"Why won't you believe me?!" He could see the tears forming in her eyes. You've ruined everything!
He grabbed Belle and shook her roughly. Don't you see the monster? The beast? "Because no one… No one! Could ever… ever love me!" He paused. She was looking down and away from him, her whole body shaking in fear and confusion. He forced his fingers to unwind from her shoulders; she was probably going to have bruises from his grip. He ignored the tears dripping freely down her cheeks as he marched her through his castle to the dungeon. It was only fitting that what was certainly her last night as his 'care taker' should reflect her first night. He shoved her through the doorway, watched her fall to the floor. But unlike her first night, after he shut and locked the door he didn't giggle with glee….
Lost and truly alone for the first time in months, he staggered towards the Great Hall. Bile rose into his throat; he tried desperately not to vomit as his body was racked with dry heaves. Blinded by pride. I knew she was temptation from that very first vision. I thought I could control myself, control her. He laughed a cruel self-deprecating laugh. He spied his old walking stick resting forgotten in a corner. He hefted it in his hands, felt the familiar weight. I'm just as powerless now as I was when I used this. "Magic always comes with a price…" he recited mechanically. And swung the crutch as hard as he could at his glass fronted cabinet. But why SMASH does the price SMASH CRASH have to be SMASH losing the SMASH people SMASH I love!? The cabinet pretty much destroyed, he threw the stick onto the broken glass littering the floor. Another dry heave bent him in half; he grasped the cabinet edge, forcing back the bile, his rage. His tears….
When he felt recovered enough, he rambled to his chair and slumped in it. "The irony of this is quite rich," he chuckled maniacally to the empty room. "Someone is certainly having fun at my expense. I don't need Snow and David's hair to make a Potion of True Love! I can use mine and Belle's! But the Savior who will break the Curse needs to be the product of True Love. I can give Belle a child, but probably not without breaking the Dark One's Curse. With no magic I can no longer maneuver events in order to get Regina to cast my Curse. If she doesn't cast the curse, I don't get to the Land Without Magic to find Baelfire, and I don't need that Potion!"
Even if Baelfire's passage through time over the last 300 years was like his own, 28 years in that Land would mean Bae would be a grown man when they finally met up, maybe even have a family of his own. A boy who was abandoned by his father would probably grow up to be a man who hated his father, wanted nothing to do with him. Getting Bae to forgive him was not going to be easy and perhaps not even possible. He could continue his quest only to find out in 30 years that it was all in vain. All those lives ruined for nothing.
Or he could go to the dungeons right now and kiss Belle until the Dark One was completely vanquished. Give up the almost impossible dream of reuniting with Bae and go for the almost certainty that he and Belle could have their own family.
If only he had the damn Sorcerer's Hat. It was powerful enough to cleave him from the dagger, yet allow him to keep his magic. He could have everything he desired with that Hat: magic, his son, Belle. But Anna of Arendelle had chosen her words carefully. The compulsion she gave through the dagger, and the deal she made: the dagger for the hat and safety, kept him away.
So he would choose. As if there really was a choice between the woman he loved and the son he abandoned.
Furious once again, Rumplestiltskin stood up to pace the room. He paused by the tea tray as he finally noticed the unusual number of cups she had placed on it. Was she expecting a party? He picked up one. I am the most powerful Dark One to ever walk the Realms. I shouldn't have to choose between Bae and Belle. I should get both; I deserve both! And he hurled the cup at a pillar. I will get my son back! Another cup followed the first. Nothing is going to stop me. A third cup smashed into the wall. Nothing! And then a fourth. Damn your interference Regina. He picked up the fifth cup: Belle's chipped cup. His anger melted into heartbreak. This is all I will have of you, my love, for the next 30 years… But in the end, I will have my son, and I will have you, too. We will be a family. I swear. He placed the cup carefully on the table.
Belle, you once accused me of acting. Tomorrow will be the biggest role I will ever play. He had to convince her that he didn't love her, didn't want her. That they did not share a True Love.
0-0
Morning found Rumplestiltskin gazing into his crystal ball, looking at Belle sitting desultorily on the cot in her cell. Her dinner from the night before sat untouched on the floor. She looked like he felt: crabby from too little sleep and red rimmed eyes from crying, or in his case, trying to not cry. He whisked her dinner away replacing it with a pot of hot tea, her chipped cup, and a breakfast pastry. He continued to watch her until he saw her pour a cup and nibble on the crust.
Even from the tower he could see the grass was sopping wet with dew where it wasn't touched by frost. He would wait for the temperature to warm up before he put on his little performance. What difference would a few more hours make when compared to the decades they would spend apart. Luckily, after a fitful sleep, Rumplestiltskin had recalled Swan's comment from the previous autumn: 'It's a miracle you two fall for each other.' It reinforced his decision from the night before: Bae and then Belle. After all, he was assured by the Savior herself that he and Belle would be together again in that Land Without Magic.
He had waited 300 years for one love. He could wait 30 more for his other.
0-0
The sun was high overhead when Rumplestiltskin finally made his way to the dungeons. Holding onto a stone-faced demeanor was already starting to hurt, and he hadn't even faced her yet. Her cell door swung open ahead of him. Belle's resigned expression hadn't changed much from what he had observed through the ball, but at least her eyes were no longer red.
"So... what are you going to do to me?" she asked quietly.
Rumplestiltskin looked at Belle and pointed at the doorway. "Go," he ordered. Unwilling to face her anymore, he turned his back and laced his fingers together.
"Go?"
Rumplestiltskin pressed his fingers tight against each other until they hurt. The pain helped him to speak in a reasonable tone of voice, an inference that sending her away was just another of his whims and not one of the hardest decisions he ever had to make. "I don't want you anymore, Dearie." He wondered if she gave him one of her exasperated looks at the 'dearie'. He fought the compulsion to turn around and see. He heard her clothing rustle as she edged off the bed, felt her nearness as she walked past him out the door. Without moving his head, he shifted his eyes to the left, using his peripheral vision to look at her through the hair framing his face. Belle paused in the rare stream of sunlight that managed to find its way into the dungeon's hallway. Even unwashed and unkempt, in the wrinkled clothing she had worn the day before, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. I love you, darling Belle.
Belle abruptly turned and stomped back to face him. "You know, you were freeing yourself." Her voice wavered with emotion. Rumplestiltskin raised his chin and looked down his nose at her. She argued, "You could have had happiness if you just believed that someone could want you." He narrowed his eyes in pretend disbelief. It was getting harder to hold the mask in place. He shifted his hands so they cupped one another, and dug the claws of one hand into the upturned palm of the other. "But you couldn't take the chance."
"That's a lie," he replied flatly. He forced his nails to dig in deeper; he felt a sharp pop as one parted his skin and drew blood.
Belle crept closer forcing Rumplestiltskin to lift his chin up in order to keep the haughty look going. "You're a coward, Rumplestiltskin," she asserted. Two more nails punctured his palm. He pretended to himself that he flinched from the sting from the nails rather than the sting from her words. "And no matter how thick you make your skin, that doesn't change."
His upward facing palm was warm and wet with little rivulets of blood. Rumplestiltskin pressed the claws from that hand into the opposite wrist. The sharp spikes of pain where they pierced that skin were infinitely more preferable to the pain her words had inflicted on his soul. "I'm not a coward, Dearie," he murmured and this time, he was able to see her eyes flash her annoyance at the term. "It's quite simple, really." He kept his voice even, controlled, and almost void of emotion. "My power... means more to me… than you."
"No," she disagreed quietly but firmly. "No, it doesn't. You just don't think I can love you." He pressed his nails deeper into his wrist; a thin stream of blood trickled across his fingers to join the small pool of blood in his palm. "Now, you've made your choice. And you're going to regret it." He voice cracked as she choked back tears. "Forever. And all you'll have... is an empty heart... and a chipped cup."
Belle whirled and strode from the room, heels clicking on the stone floor. Rumplestiltskin remained in place, unmoving, concentrating on his throbbing wounds and the steady plopping noise as blood slowly dripped from his palm. When at last her footsteps were no longer audible, he relaxed his face mask, and closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. Good bye Belle.
