A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! Here is a long chapter for all of you to enjoy.
The jagged edge of the dagger pressed deeper into Belle's throat as she drew in a timid breath, nicking her skin and shedding a pearl of scarlet blood. It was a dark teardrop, sliding down against a canvas of white. Frozen in place, all Belle could do was watch the inky shadows on the wall.
Keep calm, Belle. Think clear, rational thoughts. Think this through logically. Someone is behind you and the dagger is being held to your throat. Do not panic, do not struggle, do not scream…
Belle remembered what happened when the Queen captured her on the road and she'd tried to summon Rumpelstiltskin. She'd barely uttered the first two syllables before the Queen's guards knocked her unconscious, piling her limp body into the carriage like extra luggage.
As a woman who genuinely learned from her mistakes, she knew she could not try it again. It would be futile. That dagger may very well slice her skin as smoothly as it would a pillow.
"Who…who are you?"
Despite her attempts to breathe calmly in and out, there was still a tremor of apprehension in her voice. Her nerves jumbled and she instinctively craned her neck away from the dagger, only to knock her skull into the man's chest.
She was trapped.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that right now," he replied, his breath tickling her ear.
It was odd; he sounded regretful as though performing this crude act against his will. Dawning realization swept an icy wave through her lungs, her scars burning all over again.
"You're here…because of Regina, aren't you?" The unnerving silence gave her the answer. That was it; Regina was making another move on the chessboard. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to listen to her. She's only using you to get to me, to him."
A gloved hand squeezed her shoulder, commanding her to stop talking. She fought against the urge to wince—she would not show weakness to one of Regina's followers.
"I know. You'd be surprised what someone would be willing to do for love," he said morosely. Belle gripped the bedframe for support. Surely, she must have heard wrong.
In her heart, she believed everyone had a true love somewhere in the world, but…was this Regina's love holding her hostage? Or was he doomed to love her unrequitedly, another poor soul suffering in her name?
"You're in love with the Queen?" Belle fidgeted in his grasp until the pressure of the dagger made her gasp in discomfort. Water pooled under her eyelids, but she blinked it away.
Ten minutes—that was approximately the length of time before Rumpelstiltskin became suspicious and would come upstairs to check on her. Maybe if she kept her attacker distracted, kept him talking…
"Please," she moaned. That gloved hand squeezed her shoulder and this time she could not deny wincing.
"I really don't want to hurt you," he admitted.
"Then release me," she exclaimed in too loud a voice.
Instantly, that gloved hand clamped down over her lips, reeling her head back against his chest. It tasted like old leather and dust and sweat. Belle struggled to cough, but he was holding her so tight…
He was listening for the sound of footfalls on the stairs, in case anyone heard Belle's cry. The hand on the clock ticked by a whole minute before the gloved barrier fell from her mouth. She sucked in air, that nasty taste lingering on her lips.
"Tell me: what does this dagger do?"
Belle's eyes dropped down and she imagined the black, elegant print of Rumpelstiltskin's name on the blade, binding his soul. No, that was too precious a piece of information. Something she could never divulge, for it would mean sacrificing his freedom and happiness.
Stubbornly, as she had learned from Emma, she remained silent.
"I beg you—do not make me hurt you," he murmured, readjusting his grip on the dagger's hilt. "Once again, what does this dagger do? What is its purpose?"
Once again, Belle was irrevocably mute, refusing to voice the knowledge circling her mind. She could feel his head bend forward; she stared unblinking at the shadows on the wall even as her muscles tensed.
"He is the Dark One, isn't he?" She bit her tongue to keep from gasping. "I've heard legends. There have been centuries of them in our land. A creature powerful beyond measure. And Rumpelstiltskin is powerful, there's no denying that. However, every powerful being has their weakness, a source of their ultimate power. This dagger is his weakness, isn't it?"
The dagger's blade scorched Belle's skin, her pulse pounding against the metal. Clamminess rippled over her skin and all she could think of was Rumpelstiltskin somewhere beneath her feet, unaware his source of power had been transferred to another.
Oh, she needed to warn him! She needed to fight back, if only for his well-being. He did not deserve the torture Regina would unleash over him.
"It appears the Queen will have her happy ending, after all," her attacker mused softly.
Abruptly, Belle grabbed up the hand on her shoulder and sank her teeth into the glove. He hissed and wrenched away, the blade loosening from her throat. Arm snaking out, Belle snatched up the lamp on the bedside table and whipped it up behind her head. There was a clash and a cry of pain—she'd hit her target.
The dagger fell away from her throat, landing somewhere on the floorboards. A flash of blue light illuminated the room as the lamp shattered on the ground. Belle's eyes darted wildly about, searching for the dagger.
There!
She head-dived for it, her fingers wrapping around the hilt. The weight of her attacker's body collided into her side, sending her flying across the room just as she thrust the dagger down through the air.
The back of her head knocked against the bedside table, resulting in a sharp crack! Crimson splashed behind her eyelids and the room swam in circles.
Blurrily, she saw him rip the dagger from his leg and stumble, his eyes gleaming like iridescent black diamonds in the moonlight, gazing down upon her.
The crimson darkened into black and consciousness slipped through her fingers.
…
Six minutes.
It had been six minutes since Belle left his side. Normally, he'd allow her a few more minutes before his curiosity reigned free. But he had the inkling that she had gone for the sole purpose of the dagger. It was the only thing of value upstairs, without him.
He tried to focus on the swaying couples crowding his living room, tried not to let that old paranoia overwhelm him. But as the Dark One, he'd convinced himself there was no such thing as paranoia.
What cause did Belle have to worry about the dagger, unless…what if…?
From the corner of his eye came a flash of brilliant blue light and he whipped his head toward the staircase. No one else seemed to notice it, as if happily oblivious inside a bubble. Blood thundering in his ears, he wandered to the staircase and craned his neck to peer into the darkness of the second landing.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and that old sixth sense told him something was dreadfully amiss.
Step by step, he ascended the stairs, ears strained and listening for a sound that was out of place, a sound that should not be there. Just as his foot lifted above the next step, there came a crash. Alarm burned through his veins and suddenly he was dashing up the stairs as fast as he could, not caring who noticed.
As his legs stumbled and carried him closer toward their bedroom, voices floated across to him.
"You fool! You weren't meant to knock her unconscious!" Regina. That spiteful witch. There was no possible way she'd gotten around the wards he placed around their house, especially for her. Unless…the mirror. "Well, you'll just have to use magic."
"Magic? But…he'll know…" Sidney. That oaf had been thrown away into the Queen's little Zoo of Death, last he'd heard.
It was a mistake he'd made tonight; not placing stronger wards beyond Regina. The magic of signaling dozens of people he detested, however, would have given him a fierce headache by the end of the night.
Gritting his teeth, he ignored the discomfort of his leg and picked up his pace, imagining all the ways in which he'd slowly torture Sidney Glass and make the spineless idiot beg at his feet for death. And he would all too kindly deny it.
The minute he charged into the bedroom, he noticed several things at once.
The first was the lamp that used to be on the bedside table, now in a mess of glass and frame on the floor. The second was Belle, his sweet fiancée, unconscious in a ball on the floor, the layers of gold pooling about her body like blood, chest barely rising.
And then there was the miserable genie-turned-magic-mirror, hovering in the center of the room with his nose bleeding and a terrible wound in his leg, staining his suit with blood. The suit—nowhere near as tasteful as his own—was disheveled. One of his black gloves was missing. And in his grip, pointed at Rumpelstiltskin's chest was a knife. No, not any knife, for he could deflect that.
The dagger.
His dagger, which Belle had sworn to protect.
Eyes narrowing murderously, he aimed for the genie's head with his cane, preparing to knock the useless thing right off his shoulders.
"Stop," Sidney shrieked, cowering away from the incoming blow. To his horror, the cane halted a mere foot from its target. Magic had returned and with it, the ties that bound him to the dagger. "Drop it."
Sidney motioned with the blade to the cane. Muscles rigid in protest, his fingers opened and released the cane. It clattered between them on the ground. He looked to Belle and frowned; he needed to get her away from Regina's pet.
Inside, his free will demanded him to run to her, scoop her up into the safety of his arms, carry her away. It was hopelessly smothered by the command given by Sidney, which he was victim to obey: stop.
"The pain she suffered in your hands will be multiplied tenfold for you," he threatened through his clenched teeth.
The dagger trembled in Sidney's grasp, revealing his fear. It reminded him of the night he'd stood before Zoso, the previous Dark One, rooted to the spot with fear though he was in control of the infamous being of power.
That was the man he used to be, a coward, and now the tables had turned. Life could be so cruel in pattern.
"Seems like you no longer have that choice," the little genie dared to counter. Rumpelstiltskin almost laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it. Another part of him yearned to silence him permanently.
"Oh…seems someone has finally grown a spine," he openly mocked. The better for me to break it. "No one can escape fate, dearie."
Sidney blinked, as if expecting to be turned into a toad. Lovely idea, but the dagger would not permit it.
"Not even you," Sidney replied. Once more, Rumpelstiltskin's eyes darted to Belle and he willed her to stir. Move, moan, anything to alert him that she was alright. His love.
"Indeed," he was only half-aware of muttering. Sidney backed away toward Belle and Rumpelstiltskin clenched his fists, unable to move. Damn this curse.
"I'm sorry about this," Sidney whispered as his foot stopped an inch from Belle's still body. In one swift movement, Sidney flicked his wrist. A thick menacing cloud of black smoke slithered over him and Belle, veiling their bodies.
"No," he growled as Sidney became submersed in the fog. He was taking her away. The connection to the dagger broke as Sidney vanished from view and he raced to Belle, but it was too late. He crashed into the bedside table where his beauty once lay.
Belle was gone, magically transported straight into Regina's waiting palm.
…
There was only one other time that Belle had endured this brutal sensation.
It was the tender, heady sensation of having banged your head against the wall until it bled, of your teeth throbbing with the waves of pain rocketing and receding along the nerves, of every limb flopping like Jell-O and refusing to obey. The last time had been when she was imprisoned by Regina, upon waking up in a dreary prison cell.
Eyelids fluttering apart, Belle tried to get a sense of her surroundings, but her head spun in a million directions. Her cheek pressed against something smooth and cold—she realized it was the floor. Slick marble, not the familiar floorboards of Rumpelstiltskin's bedroom. Their bedroom, she corrected, tracing the delicate gem that still sparkled on her hand.
The last thing she remembered was the dagger digging into her throat…and the manner in which she struck her attacker with the lamp…the deep groan of agony…and being knocked into the bedside table.
That was it—whatever happened after consciousness failed her was blank. It was Regina, she knew that much. Who else could it be?
The grogginess subsided and she pulled herself upright. The fabric of her dress drifted across the floor, rustling the tiniest bit. Blinking, her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and the room came into focus.
It wasn't a cell, like she'd expected and feared. It was an office, painted in shades of black and white. No in-between gray, but then there never was a gray area for the Queen, was there?
Belle rushed to the window and slid her palms along the glass, but it would not budge. A sheet of frost iced the glass outside, though she could peer beyond it enough to recognize the town square. City Hall. Regina was keeping her locked inside as prisoner. Oh, no. Never again.
Heart racing violently, she hurried to the door and tugged on the doorknob. Locked. Belle pounded her fists on the door, begging for someone, anyone to hear her pleas and come.
"Please, let me out! You can't keep me locked in here! Don't do this," she cried out until her voice was raw, but there was no answer beyond the door. The Queen's decision had been made—there was no altering it.
Belle turned to find an alternative escape. Her eyes scanned the entire length of the room, her mind burned ferociously, but there was no way out. The Queen made certain of that.
But was she as thorough as Rumpelstiltskin? Think like Emma. Think like Emma. What would Emma do?
She opened each drawer of the desk and examined the contents. Nothing but old files, paperwork, and fountain pens. The top of the desk was bare except for a bowl of juicy red apples. Were they poisoned? A deadly threat hiding behind a sweet crimson peel?
She decided not to take that chance.
All that was left in the room was a fireplace and a full-sized mirror in the corner. The Queen valued her mirrors. It was ridiculous to think about climbing up the chimney. What kind of person could achieve that?
Something caught Belle's eye and she spun toward the mirror.
It was an ancient one; it reminded her of the one Rumpelstiltskin had kept in his castle. In the glass stared her reflection, though it wasn't as pure as when Red prepared her for the ball. A ghost of a bruise marked her cheek and there was a small tear in the side of her dress. Her soft dark hair was frazzled and hung limply over her shoulders.
The reflection quivered, shimmering as though by…magic, she realized with a chill. Curiosity won out and Belle pressed a hand to the glass.
The reflection faded and she backed away, even as it revealed a room that was not the Queen's office. Familiarity made her heart race and she nearly tumbled against the mirror. Was it…?
The library.
The enormous, grand library in Rumpelstiltskin's house.
Yes, there was the black couch in front of the fireplace and the countless shelves of books. Gripping the gilded frame of the mirror, Belle's heart swelled with hope.
She began to call out his name.
…
Belle was gone.
Frantically, his eyes roved over the spot where she lay only a few moments ago—the one his body now occupied—but she had vanished without a trace. Not even a stray chestnut hair clinging to the floor.
No, the fury brewed inside him, burning cold and deep as his fingers splayed across the floorboards. Too long have I been without her, forced to live with my mistake. I shall not lose her again.
And that was precisely when he felt it instead of heard it.
The stirring of something delicate across his mind; the skittering whisper of his name, uttered in her soft voice. Straining his ears to listen, he realized something his brain had already registered but failed to alert him—she was calling him.
Yes, he heard it now, rising distinct and clear. Belle was calling him.
Could she still be here somehow? Had the genie made a mistake, rusty in his disuse of magic? Or did he miraculously have a change of heart? No, that latter option was impossible.
Rumpelstiltskin…Rumpelstiltskin…
"Belle," his lips whispered as he pulled himself to his feet and followed the sound of her voice. It held him under a spell; Belle was his siren that would easily lure him anywhere in the world. He hoped she was leading him into her arms.
It was not coming from their bedroom, though it was coming from somewhere upstairs. Mesmerized, he followed it to the library, using the wall for support.
In the corner near the fireplace stood an ivory-framed mirror, though its glass was cold without the roar of the flames. When he spun on his wheel in the basement, occasionally he enjoyed watching Belle read in the comfort of her library.
The glass flashed as he approached it. Some small part of him already knew what he would find. The library was empty, otherwise.
Turning to fully face the mirror, his breath caught in his throat and his hand was already reaching out toward the glass. It wasn't his reflection staring back. There, embodied in the mirror, was Belle.
A golden glow seemed to surround her as inky blackness clouded the space around her body. It was the Queen's form of protection and magic—Regina would not allow him to depict Belle's location and his magic was nulled by the loss of the dagger.
"Rumpelstiltskin," she gasped in relief. Never was there a more lovely sound.
His fingers brushed the cool glass, but failed to stretch beyond it. Belle pressed her hand to the glass and the pads of her fingers revealed where she came in contact with the mirror.
"The Queen has taken me and the dagger," she said slowly, almost hesitantly. He winced at the reminder.
Belle's gentle face crumbled and he could sense that she was fighting to stay strong. His fingers rubbed over the reflection of her hair and he longed to stroke it.
"I know, my love. Her repulsive genie is the one who captured you. Do not be fooled by his emotions. He is not her true love," he explained carefully. His eyes flickered to the clock on the mantle of the fireplace. Time was surely of the essence.
"I'm so sorry. You asked me to protect the dagger, you trusted me with your will, but I…I…" Water welled up in Belle's eyes, her bottom lip trembling. It squeezed his heart worse than if the Queen ripped it out herself.
"Did she hurt you?"
If Regina so much as glared in Belle's direction, he'd track that witch down and strangle the daylights out of her until her eyeballs popped out of her skull. Belle sniffled and appeared to glance around at her surroundings. If only he could see.
"Not that I can tell. So far, I've been locked in a room. I have no idea what she's done with the dagger—"
"Forget the dagger," he growled, making her jump. He regretted it instantly.
Neither of them could forget the dagger. His free will hinged on its whereabouts and Regina would inevitably assume invincibility while holding it. At the crux of it all, it was still a knife and capable of flaying skin alive.
"Listen closely. You need to tell me exactly where you are. As much detail as possible, so that I can find you." Belle's eyes lit up brilliantly and she nearly stumbled into the glass.
"You can't see it," she realized his predicament. Tell me, sweetheart, he willed her. He pressed his forehead to the glass until Belle was the only thing in his vision.
"Please," he murmured, his breath fogging the glass. Belle's fingertips brushed over it, as though she could absorb his warmth. Quickly, the fog dissipated and she frowned.
"She has me locked away inside—" Inside what? Inside her house? No, that would be the first place he'd look and the Queen knew it.
Something broke the connection between them and Belle's image faded. His fist pounded against the frame of the mirror. Another second and her reflection had been replaced with that of Regina. Regina, who had the gall to laugh.
"Oh, this is priceless. If only I thought to make a bowl of popcorn," she taunted maliciously, her ruby lips pulled into a vicious smirk. "You two are almost as sickly sweet as Snow White and her dear prince."
His lip curled in a sneer and his hands gripped the edge of the mirror until it nearly cut his skin.
"Where is she?" There was a low warning in his voice.
This would be her only chance to cooperate. Not that it would prevent him from reacquainting her with his cane, but if he was forced to search for Belle, every passing second would mean a decrease in the Queen's chances of surviving his wrath.
But the Queen was always eager to dangle her hidden aces.
From inside her clothing she revealed the dagger, the elegant script of his name mocking him. She began using the blade to dig under her sharp fingernails.
"Seems you're not viable to make demands anymore, Rumpel," she dared to flaunt her victory in his face. The game was far from over yet. "Besides, we don't want to spoil the fun, do we? The show has only just begun."
He was going to kill her. Nice and slowly.
"I am warning you this once, dearie—" Regina feigned alarm, clutching a hand to her bosom.
"Oh, you're warning me? As opposed to turning me into a snail? Ooh, I am positively quivering in my corset." Another snide laugh.
Tighter his fingers clenched the edge of the mirror until he felt warmth seep along his palm. His teeth gritted painfully and he had the urge to smash his fist against the mirror. But that would risk losing any further connection he had with Belle.
"You haven't won yet, Your Majesty. I will find her, I will get her back, and then I will rip that black heart out of your chest," he threatened. Regina swung the dagger back and forth; she wasn't bothered by his dark promises.
"We shall see," she hissed, those black irises glinting dangerously. "Enjoy the show."
And the Queen's reflection vanished, leaving him to glare only at himself.
…..
Something severed the connection between Belle and Rumpelstiltskin, for the next thing she knew, he was gone. His image disappeared before she could tell him her location, the glass returning to her battered reflection.
The Queen. It must have been her magic that interrupted their connection.
Belle slid her palms across the glass, praying that he would return to her. But her reflection continued to stare back. Find me, she silently pleaded with his image floating behind her eyelids.
Belle did not know how long she remained in front of the mirror with her eyes closed peacefully, clinging to the sound of Rumpelstiltskin's voice. But all at once, the click-click-click of heels dragged her back to reality.
The Queen was coming; Belle could sense the dark fury beyond the door. She rushed to the door and peered through the keyhole, but she could not see anything. Voices, however, reached her ears.
"But, Your Majesty, wouldn't it be too risky to move her now?" She recognized that voice. It was the man who'd taken her. Regina's genie, Rumpelstiltskin had said.
"It was risky enough bringing her here," she snapped. "The only reason I allowed those two lovebirds to communicate was to show him that I now have two precious possessions of his. I've been good about hiding her location, but we can't be sure. He will come unless I demand otherwise."
Belle pressed her ear up against the door even as the footsteps seemed to ascend the stairs and draw closer.
"You want him to come," the genie surmised. Belle's heart pounded in her chest as she anticipated the Queen's answer.
"His arrival will be inevitable, but that will soon be part of the fun. He has no choice. If he doesn't come for her, I'll kill her, anyway. And if he does…" The silence was thick, not even the sound of Belle's breath escaping her mouth. "Let's just say I'll have a surprise in store for those two. It'll be heart-wrenching."
The Queen's cackle sent an unforgiving shiver down Belle's back. The steps were close to the office now and Belle didn't want to wait to find out what plans the Queen hoped to put into motion.
Think like Emma, she reminded herself. Emma would face off against the Queen eye-to-eye, but Belle knew she was no match for the Queen's magic. The second option was to find a clever way to escape.
There are no weapons in here; the Queen has cleared it out. A pen might work, but even a sword would not be a match against magic. Fighting against two magic-users would be futile. What else am I to do? Jump out the window? What if she's thinking of torturing me again with red-hot iron? Or…what if she's thinking of torturing Rumpelstiltskin?
That was it—she needed out. Now. Jumping out a window was much more preferable to the sickening stench and searing of burning flesh.
As the steps stopped outside the door, Belle hurried to the window. Again, it would not budge under her fingers, but she let her instincts guide her. Slipping off one of her heels, she picked it up.
The rattle of a key in the lock made her quicken her pace and she smashed the heel into the window. It cracked and Belle banged her elbow against it as well, shattering it.
"Get her, you fool," the Queen's order clashed with the sharp collision of the door against the wall. Clearing the frame of glass, Belle gathered her golden skirts and squeezed through to stand on the windowsill outside.
It was quite a fall to the ground. Much as she wished to escape the Queen's wrath, she did not wish to die, especially since it would leave Rumpelstiltskin alone in the world. No, she had to survive.
She spotted a drainpipe a little further along the edge. A-ha! I'll just use that to climb down to the ground—
Before she could begin to move, hands tugged at her golden dress, startling her. Her heel slid along the windowsill and for a moment she teetered precariously on the edge, her arms flailing for balance.
The hands scrambled under her dress to try to grab her leg, but she twisted away. It was a deadly mistake. One of her legs stomped down through the open air and her body leaned over the courtyard at the entrance of City Hall.
At that instant, Belle knew without a doubt that she would fall.
Gravity pulled her over the edge. There was a definite tearing as the piece of dress her attacker was holding ripped away, releasing her. Almost in slow motion, Belle's feet left the windowsill.
And then she began her descent. I love you, Rumpelstiltskin.
The ground hurtled up at Belle and she shut her eyes, anticipating the brutal impact and the crimson that would undoubtedly splash behind her eyes. She waited, her body rushing through the air, but there was no pain. Her body simply…stopped.
Was this what it felt like to die? To have your body stop completely and float away in the form of a spirit destined for some other world? If she opened her eyes, would she have one of those mythical out-of-body experiences with her own lifeless body below, blood pooling out of her?
Belle eventually did open her eyes, but it was because she heard the worst sound in all the Enchanted Forest. Worse than the roar of Ogres or the scratch of Rumpelstiltskin's quill across the parchment of a deal for some.
It was Regina's laugh.
Would she ever be free of the Queen?
Ever so slowly, Belle opened her eyes and saw the ground a foot or so below her…but no body. She glanced about and understood what the Queen had done. Roots and vines spiraled around Belle's wrists and legs, holding her firmly in place.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The Queen smirked as she stood before Belle with her genie in tow. He was still holding the golden strip of fabric that had torn off her dress. Belle squirmed in the cradle of the vines, but it was no use.
"Knowing you…somewhere horrible," Belle answered coolly. She expected Regina to bristle, but instead the Queen's lips split into a smile and her white teeth glowed in the moonlight.
"Indeed."
…
I want to thank all those that have reviewed recently. You guys are absolutely wonderful. Once again, happy holidays to beverlie4055, thedoctorsgirl42, White Ivy, writindownsouth (Princess Bride?), White Belt Writer, Bluecanbegreen, Linzerj, discotimelord, Jennifer, Dakota Kent, juju0268, Romance and Musicals, rene10, lilylulurose, and the anonymous Guests. Thank you all so much!