50
Triumph
A/N: Thanks everyone for all your support and interest in this story! Hope you like what happens next!
Rumple arrived at the Guild hall to pick up his children after having had a rather exhausting lesson with Gwydion on offensive magical spells. They had gone out in the yard, where many of the squires practiced, and Gwydion used his magic to create several targets and had demonstrated several spells a wizard would commonly use against an enemy. There was a traditional fireball, but also a fan of pulsing flames as well. Then there were sharp bolts of lightning, and pure magical force balls, like small missiles. Gwydion also showed him how to freeze several opponents in place and to put several to sleep as well, like they were drugged with strong medicine. There was even one that caused a person to go insane with itching sores all over, and do nothing but scratch oneself for at least fifteen minutes.
The elder wizard had also discussed another special power with him—the ability to Dream true, and also to See past events in a globe of clear crystal or a bowl of water or a candle flame. Gwydion asked Rumple if he had ever Dreamed, and of course Rumple had to admit that Arrow insisted he had—twice. He told Gwydion of the dream he had of a woman who would help him destroy a powerful magical object—the dagger of the Dark One, and then the dream he'd had of himself dancing at the ball with Belle. "And . . . this is insane, but . . . I think the woman in my first dream was Belle also . . ." Rumple admitted softly.
"Oh? That is very interesting," Gwydion said quietly, though he was under orders from the king not to mention that he had past Viewed Rumple during the Ogre Wars and so saw how he had been lamed and beaten and left for dead to keep him silent over the commander's coldhearted decision to leave behind all his wounded to be eaten by the ogres. He also saw how Rumple had allowed his own reputation to be ruined by his "loving" wife so no one would retaliate against his family. Now Maurice knew the truth, and knew that Rumple was no coward and never had been. Gwydion was sure such a thing could only help his friend win the king's favor . . . and perhaps the right to court Belle also.
Rumple had been surprised his mentor didn't call the dreams nonsense, but then again, the one with the ball had come true. Was it ridiculous to suppose the other one might as well? Instead Gwydion had asked his student to tell him if he had any more unusual dreams, and then they had practiced battle spells until Rumple was staggering from exhaustion.
Gwydion had given him some food before Rumple had departed to pick up the children, but Rumple found that he was still hungry and recalled something his mentor had said once, that battle magic made one desperately hungry after casting, since the price it required was often a caster's energy, making one tired just as if one had been running or riding for a long time.
Bae and Val ran up and hugged him when he arrived. "Papa, you'll never guess what happened today!" Bae said, grabbing his father's hand and towing him out of the hall excitedly.
"Was it something good?" Rumple asked his son, permitting the youngster to pull him along.
On his other side, Val skipped alongside him, holding his other hand. "We met a transvestite."
"You met a what?" Rumple frowned, he thought he'd heard the word before, but was unsure what it meant.
"That's what we call 'em in New York," Val said.
"Yeah, he's a guy that likes to wear women's clothes, Papa," Bae reported, snickering. "But why would anybody want to do that? How would he fit into a woman's dress?"
Rumple goggled at them. "You saw a guy wearing women's clothes?" Even in Avonlea City, that was cause for a second glance.
"No, but he had guyliner on," Val said.
"Guyliner?" Rumple raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, you know, makeup you wear around your eyes," Val explained. "Like eyeliner, only a guy's wearing it. And that's usually cause they're cross dressing or gay or something."
Now Rumple had known a few men in the army who enjoyed the company of other men the way a man usually enjoyed the company of a woman, but he'd never seen a man dressed like a woman or wearing makeup like Val had described. At least he thought he hadn't. "Val, did this man tell you he was . . . err . . .gay?"
"Umm . . . no," she admitted.
"And he wasn't wearing a skirt or a dress?" Rumple clarified.
"No, he was wearing leather, Papa," Bae answered. "He was all in black, a leather coat and pants and boots. Oh, and he had a sword too. He looked kinda like . . . a pirate."
Rumple stiffened at the word. Ever since Milah had run off with that scoundrel, he'd had a dislike of that breed of men.
"Uh huh. That's why I called him Captain Guyliner," Val admitted. "Cuz he sorta looked like a pirate and a transvestite."
Rumple cleared his throat. "Valentina, Baelfire, now what have I told you about labeling people? It's not nice to spread rumors, dearies. Especially if you don't know if they're true. You need to watch what you say, because a wrong word could ruin a person's reputation."
Val looked up at him, puzzled. "Papa, what's it matter if he's gay?"
Rumple halted and put a hand on her shoulder. "Dearie, it shouldn't matter, but the plain truth is that sometimes it does. So you need to stop and think before you say something, understand? Especially now, because I'm in a high position at court, and people tend to be . . . looking at me and my family to set an example, so we have to be careful. Okay?"
"Okay," she agreed, and so did Bae.
"Good," Rumple ruffled their hair. "Now let's get something to eat." He pointed to a small stall across the way that was selling roasted chicken pies. As they waited on line, Rumple considered what the kids had told him about the man they had seen. Something about their description bothered him. "Bae, did the man you saw—did he happen to tell you his name?"
"Uh, he said his name was—Captain Jones."
"Jones," Rumple repeated in alarm. Surely it couldn't be . . . "Did he say anything else?"
"Uh, he said we were little brats," Bae recalled. "And he was gonna teach us some manners."
"Really, dearie?" Rumple's voice was sharp with anger.
Val shivered at his tone. "Are you mad?"
"Not at you, pretty girl," he quickly said. "What else did he do?"
"Well, Tyr and Lacey and a lot of other kids were laughing because he liked to wear women's clothes," Bae began.
"And that was when he said that and he tried to hit us," Val told her father.
"He did what? He tried to hit you?" Rumple cried, his eyes flashing.
But he never got the chance, Rumple. Because I was watching the pups, like I usually do when they're in the Guild yard, Arrow sent as he came trotting up to them. And before he could do anything I came and growled at him. I put the fear of death into him, Rumple. Nobody hurts my pups!
Rumple stroked his familiar's ears. "It's good you were there, Arrow. Would you remember him if you saw him again?"
Of course. The man smelled like salt water, fish, lady's perfume, and dead cows. I'd recognize him by his stink alone, as well as appearance. The grimm wolf wrinkled his nose.
"Could you . . . show me what he looked like, Arrow?"
I can, when we get home. It's best if you're sitting down when I do that, Rumple. Seeing through my eyes can make you dizzy.
"All right. And I'm starving right now," he told his familiar.
After they had all eaten the handheld chicken pies and some apple turnovers as well, Rumple led the children back home.
While Bae and Val did their homework, Rumple sat down in his chair in the den and had Arrow show him how to "look" through a grimm wolf's eyes.
At first, as Arrow had warned, it was disorientating, as the wolf saw things differently than a human, seeing perspective and color at odd angles and shades, but finally Rumple grew used to it, and then Arrow showed him the memory of the stranger threatening Val, Bae, and the other children.
"Gods! I know him!" Rumple growled. "That's Jones! Killian Jones . . . the pirate my former wife left with. What the hell is he doing here? Near my kids?"
I don't know. But I didn't like how he acted, trying to hurt defenseless pups. Arrow shook his head, his lip curling.
"If he's here, where's Milah?" wondered Rumple. If he had to guess, he'd assume that where Jones was, so was she. And the two together spelled trouble, or he was no sorcerer. His jaw tightening, he asked Arrow to keep an eye on the kids at the Guild hall, and to call him if he saw Jones again.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
The next day, Rumple was going to take the kids to the library to get some more books. Since today was Wednesday, Linnea was selling her bread and pastries and he figured Gwydion would be down sometime in the afternoon to patronize her wares, as usual.
But just as they were heading out, Arrow received a silent message from Gwydion that the king had called a meeting with his two sorcerers and Rumple was required to attend it. So now he had to find someone else to take his children over to the library.
Tell Gwydion I'll be there as soon as I find Jeff or someone who can watch my children, he told Arrow. Then he told Val and Bae to wait for him by Linnea's booth while he went to find Jefferson.
Jeff was usually over at the guardsman's barracks this time of day, so that's where Rumple went to search for him. Rumple found his friend happily playing cards with some of the off duty guards, and waited until there was a pause in play before he tapped Jeff on the shoulder and said, "Jeff, would you mind if I asked you for a favor?"
"Wait a moment, lads," Jeff held up a hand. "I need to speak with Councilor Gold." He rose from the table and they walked over to a private corner. "Rumple, what do you need?"
Rumple told him, saying apologetically, "I know this is on short notice so if you can't do it, I'll understand."
Jeff sighed, looking regretful. "Buddy, you know I would, but I . . . ah . . . promised Alice to go out for lunch and it's almost midday, so . . .I'm sorry. But any other day I'd be happy to take them wherever they want."
"It's all right, Jeff. I'll just tell them they have to wait until I can bring them," Rumple said. He knew the children would be upset, but there was nothing to be done about it. "I'll see you later . . . maybe for dinner tonight, unless I have to eat with the court." He waved goodbye knowing he didn't have much time to get back to the children before he had to go back up to the palace.
He was so intent upon getting back to the market that he didn't see Belle until he nearly ran her over. He skidded to a stop and put out his hands to avoid a collision, and instead found himself nearly hugging the crown princess of Avonlea right there in the courtyard. "Belle! I mean . . . Your Grace . . . forgive me . . . I'm so sorry . . .!" he stammered, his heart pounding like a runaway stallion as he inwardly cursed himself for a clumsy fool.
Her hands closed over his arms and she said, "Please, Rumple, don't apologize. You're in a hurry. Has something happened?"
"Um . . . well, your father's called a meeting with me and . . . umm . . . I need to tell Val and Bae I can't take them to the library this afternoon, they'll have to wait until tomorrow . . " he flushed, fearing he sounded like a total idiot.
"Oh! But . . . I can take them, Rumple!" Belle cried, her cheeks coloring a becoming rose hue. "I'm not busy this afternoon and . . . you know how much I love the library."
"Belle, I can't ask the princess of Avonlea to escort my children—"
She put a finger to his lips. "You certainly can . . . especially when I'm offering my services. Well?" she quirked an eyebrow in mischievous amusement.
"If it pleases Your Grace . . ."
"It does. Then it's settled. You run along and meet with my father and I'll fetch Bae and Val and have a nice time rummaging through the stacks and avoiding Gaston." She winked at him, her blue eyes twinkling.
"Ah ha! An ulterior motive!" he laughed.
"Avoiding Gaston always is," she grinned. "Especially lately. He's become even more insufferable than usual. Why yesterday he cornered me in the hallway and proceeded to tell me about this great reward Papa was going to give him . . . something about a triumph through the streets in Papa's chariot! I almost broke a stay trying to keep from laughing, Rumple! The man's crazier than a loon! And he wonders why I don't want to marry him. Our children would be handsome idiots." Belle shuddered. "No thank you! Now, I'll be off as soon as I . . . err . . . change into some appropriate clothing." She gestured at her dark wine colored gown, which came to her ankles and showed her well-turned ankle and soft stockings with glistening jeweled shoes. "I can't wear this and hunt for books."
"No, you can't . . ." Rumple murmured, his voice suddenly trailing off as he studied her delicate mouth, longing to kiss her.
Belle found herself unable to look away from him either, her eyes irresistibly drawn to his slender lips, and the way his tongue protruded slightly from them, making her long to kiss him breathless. "Rumple . . ." she hissed, then she leaned in and kissed him, one swift taste of his mouth, one brief moment of passion, before she swung about and hurried back to her quarters, her entire body quivering like a harp whose strings had been plucked by a master musician.
Rumple gazed after her, his tongue darting out briefly to lick his bottom lip, tasting a hint of cherries, subtly sweet and invigorating. If only he could seize the moment, and kiss her the way he longed to. But he knew well that duty came before pleasure, and even if there had been time, she was still the princess and he was only a councilor. The gulf between them was like a chasm and he could not begin to span it, not now and maybe not ever.
Sighing, he continued on into the palace and his mentor's quarters. He had one thing to be grateful for . . . his children would be in good hands with Belle.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
When Belle arrived at Linnea's booth, wearing her "Belinda" disguise, which consisted of her blue commoner's dress and white blouse and blue shoes, she found the maid doing a brisk business, bargaining with customers over her wares. Linnea had come a long way from the stammering maid she had been. Now she barely tripped over her words, and used a country lilt when she spoke, because it kept her from stammering too much, and lent a charming songsong chant to her voice that made some men give her second glances . . . until they recalled who was courting her, and then they looked elsewhere.
Bae and Val were helping their friend, putting some of the cakes and pastries in small sacks or wrapping them in oilcloth if customers were buying multiple things.
Linnea saw Belle and smiled happily, waving her over.
"Would you like to try a b-berry turnover?" she asked the princess.
"I'd love to, but right now I'm supposed to be taking Val and Bae to the library," Belle said, eyeing the pastries longingly. "But save me one for later?"
"Of course, Belinda," Linnea said, and winked conspiratorily at her ruler. She plucked a berry turnover with a shiny crispy crust and juice oozing from the sides and wrapped it up and stuck it beneath the trestle. "Would you be wanting anything else, ma'am?"
Belle shook her head and went to call out to the children when a rather tall dark-haired woman dressed in leggings and a cream colored blouse and black vest leaned on the counter next to her and interrupted her conversation rather rudely.
"Hey, I'd like some of those pear tarts there and some pound cake . . ."
Belle turned and eyed the other woman, who had curly dark hair and dark eyes and was pretty, in a rather provocative kind of way, and said, "I wasn't finished speaking with Mistress Linnea yet, so you'd do well to wait your turn."
"Yeah, well if you want to chat, sister, wait till she's closed," Milah said coldly.
"I was speaking with Belinda first," Linnea stated, not liking this other woman at all.
"And it's rude to interrupt when another person's talking," Belle reprimanded.
Milah rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like my former husband, the mealy mouthed twit. Always prating about decency and politeness. Ha! Like that ever got him anywhere, the coward!"
Belle stiffened, disliking this stranger even more by the minute. "If he had you to deal with, I'm sure it didn't, since you don't seem to know the meaning of good manners."
"Tell it to someone who cares, Miss Do-Good!" sneered Milah. "I learned a long time ago, you take what you want and when you want or else you get stepped on. Like the coward I was married to!" She reached into her money pouch and withdrew a silver sovereign and slammed it down on the trestle. "Here. Now give me some of what I just asked for, Mistress."
Linnea pursed her lips. "I . . . I don't think so."
"What do you mean, you don't think so! My money's as good as anyone's!" Milah snapped, incensed. "Now give me what I asked for!"
"She has the right to turn away rude patrons," Belle pointed out. "Like any good merchant here in Avonlea."
"Be quiet and mind your own business, before I do it for you!" Milah growled, glaring at Belle.
Linnea gasped, her hand going to her mouth.
Just then, Bae and Val came back over to Linnea's side of the booth, having handed out wrapped pastries to several customers. "Hey, Linnea! Mistress mai Lin says your ginger cakes are so good she's gonna come back next week and buy some more to give some of her clients," Val said, smiling. Then the child noticed who was leaning on the trestle and scowling and froze, her green eyes wide in alarm. "Milah!" she squeaked.
Upon hearing her name, the pirate jerked her head up, and saw Val standing there. "Well, well! If it isn't Valentina . . . Rumple's charity case! Fancy meeting you here!"
Val felt the old fear crawl back into her throat and she instinctively looked at the ground . . . just as Bae banged into her and cried, "Val, what's—Mama?"
The boy's brown eyes, so like his papa's, grew round as dinner plates as he gazed at the woman who had abandoned him all those months ago.
"Baelfire?" Milah cried, gaping at her son. "You've . . . grown taller."
Bae scowled at her. "So? Why're you here?"
Milah stiffened at the boy's tone, which was belligerent and disrespectful. "You mind your mouth, boy, when you talk to me. I'm still your mama."
"No, you ain't!" Bae spat angrily. "My mama ran off with some . . . some scurvy pirate an' left me an' my papa!"
People gasped and started whispering behind her, and Milah flushed and snarled, "That's not how it was, Bae! I left because Rumple was a coward who was never gonna amount to anything and I couldn't stand to be tied to him anymore."
Bae's eyes flashed. "Papa's no coward! He never was! He came home an' he stayed with me! You're the one who ran away! You ran away soon as you could and left us!"
"Bae, darling, you don't understand . . ." Milah began, pasting a false smile on her face. "I had to go . . . but I was going to come back for you, my sweet boy . . . just as soon as you were old enough to sail on the high seas with me and Captain Jones . . . Just think of it, Bae! You'd be living a life of dashing swordfights and adventure, every boy's dream, not moldering away in that cottage spinning wool like your papa . . .smelling of sheep and wet wool . . ."
"I'd rather smell like that than like fish!" Bae snapped. "And I'd rather stay with Papa than go anywhere with you!"
"Captain Jones?" Val repeated softly. "Bae . . . she's talking about . . ."
Bae blinked, now getting the reference. "Captain Guyliner!" He stared at his mother. "That's who you went with? Him?"
"Aye, I did, and he's a lot more of a man than your papa ever was, Baelfire!" Milah snapped.
"Is not!" Val yelled. "Nobody's better than Rumple! 'Specially not somebody that would want you!"
"Why, you little brat!" Milah growled. "It's clear Rumple never taught you to mind your manners, the pansy ass!"
"Yeah he did!" Bae spoke up, coming to stand protectively in front of his sister. "Only you don't deserve any respect after what you did, Mama! From Val or me!"
"How dare you!" Milah cried, incensed. She grabbed Bae by the tunic and slapped him across the face.
"Leave 'im alone!" Val howled, her magic rousing.
Suddenly Bae was blinked across the booth, out of range of Milah's hand, where he cradled his throbbing cheek, tears in his eyes.
Val ran and hugged him.
"You rotten witch!" Linnea cried angrily. "Don't you hurt that boy!" She turned to see to Bae.
"I'll discipline my child anyway I want to, wench!" Milah snapped, and she made as if to go around the booth, snarling, "What you need, Baelfire, is a good thrashing!"
Suddenly someone caught her shoulder and spun her around. The next thing Milah knew was she was staring into a pair of furious cerulean eyes, as the woman in the blue dress confronted her.
"You've done enough to that boy to last a lifetime, you faithless tramp! Now leave him be, before I call the watch!" Belle snarled.
"Make me, you little tart!" laughed the pirate.
"Fine! But just remember, you asked for it!"
Then Belle drew back her fist and clocked the smug woman right on the chin, using the techniques taught to her by Master Sagan, her armsmaster, who had insisted Maurice have Belle take lessons in self-defense, because one never knew when she might need them.
Milah staggered backwards and landed on the ground on her rump. Her mouth was open in an "O" of shock, and she touched her lip, which was bleeding from a cut made by her front tooth when her lip had snapped up into the roof of her mouth.
Several people started clapping and cheering at Belle, who shook out her fist and said coldly, "Now get up and get yourself on your way, because if you try to hurt that child again, you'll be cooling your heels in jail . . . at the very least!"
Milah started to get up, her hands crooked into claws, ready to tear the other woman's eyes out, when there came a sudden flash of blue light and she found herself teleported right across the square . . . into a large pile of horse manure that the street sweepers hadn't picked up yet.
"Eeeww! I'm covered in . . . horse shit!" wailed the pirate, as she stared at the gooey stinking mess surrounding her.
"Good one, Val!" Bae cheered.
"Hey, Milah!" Val cried, clenching her fists. "Yo mama's so ugly she scares roaches away! And you're so ugly you scare the crap outta the toilet!"
People started howling with laughter.
Red-faced, Milah jumped to her feet and shouted, "Just you wait, you little brat! I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born!"
"Over my dead body, pirate!" Belle growled, stepping in front of the other woman. "Only a coward hits a little boy like that for speaking the truth! And Rumplestiltskin was well rid of you, you harpy bitch! Now go clean up, before you're mistaken for part of the manure pile and dumped into the gutter."
"Probably just where she belongs!" hooted someone.
"With the rest of the garbage!"
"Go home, you stinking trull!"
Humiliated, Milah turned tail and ran, clumps of manure falling off of her all the way down the street.
People avoided her as she passed, holding their noses and making ward signs against the plague, and a group of older children began chanting insults at her as she went by.
Belle turned and went over to where Bae was standing beside Val and knelt and said softly, "Bae, may I see your face?"
Bae turned, and showed her the faint imprint of Milah's hand on his cheek. "It's not so bad, Belinda," he murmured. "She's hit me harder than this."
Belle gently cupped his small face in her hand and murmured, "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough to stop her, Bae. Come with me, and I'll put some arnica salve on it."
"Aww, I'm okay," the little boy said, trying to be brave. "Can we go to the library now?"
Belle gently patted him on the shoulder. "Okay . . . but afterwards we're going to my suite so I can put some salve on your cheek. Your papa will have a fit when he sees what that . . .witch has done!"
"You can call her the other word. I won't tell," Bae said, smirking.
Belle bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Never mind, Bae! Now, are you two ready to go pick out some new books?"
"Yes!" Val giggled, and took her other hand.
Then together they went towards the King's Library, two little bookworms and the princess in disguise, who had proved more than a match for nasty pirates any day of the week.
Once the two had picked out two new books apiece, Belle led them back to her apartments, where she carefully applied some salve to Bae's cheek, and even put some on her knuckles, which were scraped a little from hitting Milah's mouth as well as her chin.
She had just capped the jar and put it back on her vanity when Mrs. Potts and Jeanette, her under maid, bustled in, crying, "Your Grace! You must make haste! The king has an announcement to make in the square and he wishes you to attend promptly!"
Belle looked startled. "Mrs. Potts, what's this about?"
"I have no idea, Your Grace! But the king commands every courtier to attend, and that includes you, your ladyship!" She clapped her hands. "Jeanette, get the cloth of gold dress from the armoire! Quickly!"
In a twinkling, Belle found herself with her court gold gown on and her hair arranged artfully on her head. Then she beckoned to Val and Bae, who had been standing quietly in a corner watching, and they all processed down the hall and joined the long line of courtiers going into the square, where Maurice waited along with Gwydion, Gaston, and Rumplestiltskin.
Belle noticed that her father's chariot had been polished and washed, and his four parade horses, white mares with high arched necks and tails that swept the ground, wearing the king's purple harness with plumes on their heads, stood champing at the bit, ready to march into the city. She wondered what Maurice was planning to do, then decided she would have to wait and see, like the rest of them.
She walked up through the knot of courtiers and stood to the right of the king, with Val and Bae nestled on one side, half-hidden behind her voluminous skirts.
Maurice was wearing his red robes of state with the ermine trim, and holding his golden scepter in one hand. Beside him on his left stood Gaston, preening like the peacock he was, Gwydion, looking rather serious, but with a sparkle of delight in his blue eyes, and Rumple in his court attire, including his tight leather breeches that made Belle's mouth go dry when she saw them on him.
Maurice's herald blew a blast on his trumpet, and then called, "Here ye! Here ye! Subjects of Avonlea! Your monarch, Maurice the Second, wishes to make an important announcement today!"
The herald bowed and withdrew, and Maurice said, speaking clearly and loudly, "People of Avonlea, I have gathered you together to witness a reward that I am giving one of my loyal and faithful subjects. This subject has not been among us very long, but in the time that he has been here, has shown himself to be a most honorable and trustworthy person, a man of loyalty and compassion, and one who puts the needs of the people before his own."
Gaston was looking insufferably smug as Maurice beckoned and two servants in royal livery approached carrying one of his robes, dyed a startling deep golden color, accented with tufts of fox fur around the hem and collar.
"This man is one of my trusted advisors, a man of integrity and intelligence, one that I am proud to call my councilor and my friend. I ask that he kneel before me so that I may place my robe upon him . . . and thus confer upon him the raiment of nobility and the title and land which go with it!"
Maurice turned.
Gaston stepped forward . . . only to have the king totally ignore him and beckon to . . . Councilor Gold.
"Councilor Rumplestiltskin Gold, come forward!"
A stunned Rumple came and stood before the king. "Sire? I . . ."
Maurice was grinning, and then he said, "Kneel, Councilor!"
Rumple promptly knelt on one knee, thanking all the gods his leg was sufficiently healed to permit him to do so.
Maurice gently touched his scepter to Rumple's shoulders, saying, "I now create thee Duke Rumplestiltskin Gold, lord of Lochdubh, to inherit the title and lands forthwith, you and your heirs, forevermore!" He tapped Rumple gently on the head. "Arise, Your Grace! You are now part of my nobles, second only to me in this land, and because of your service to the crown, are eligible to court my daughter, Princess Belle of Avonlea!"
Rumple nearly fell over at those words. Maurice draped the golden robe over his shoulders and raised him to his feet. Dazed, Rumple shook his head slightly, as Maurice turned him to face the crowd.
"Welcome now your Duke, Lochdubh, people of Avonlea!"
The people began cheering and clapping, chanting, "Your Grace, Rumplestiltskin, Duke of Avonlea!"
Then Maurice beckoned to Belle, and took her hand and put it in Rumple's. "My daughter, I ask you now, in sight of these witnesses, will you accept Lochdubh's suit . . . or that of Sir Gaston, Lord of Lyonesse?"
Belle turned and raised Rumple's hand high and cried, "Your Majesty, I choose Rumplestiltskin!"
Then Gwydion waved a hand, and a ring appeared upon both their fingers glittering like a summer star.
"Then I pronounce you betrothed!" Maurice intoned. He pointed towards the chariot. "Go forth, Princess Belle and Duke Rumple, and see your people!"
Somehow, Rumple made his feet move, and mounted the steps into the chariot, which had red leather padded seats and was big enough for him and Belle to sit side by side. In front was the coachman's box, and the driver took the reins and snapped them over the horses' backs.
They stepped out smartly, and Rumple and Belle waved as they processed through the streets in their first official triumph, while people cheered and threw rose petals and Rumple conjured gold coins and threw them at the crowd in return, still fearing it was but a dream and soon he would wake from it.
Until they crested the rise leading down to the lower portion of the city and as the driver paused to allow the crowds to thin, Belle took Rumple's face in her hands and kissed him hard.
As the crowd cheered, Gaston gritted his teeth and clenched his large fists, redfaced with temper and humiliation. He had told the king how to reward a loyal subject, thinking it would be him receiving the accolades. This was not the way it was supposed to be. It should be him in the chariot, him beside Belle, him kissing her, not that miserable spinner sorcerer! Maurice had gone mad. Gaston was sure of it. Mad as a March hare. Along with everyone else. But Gaston was not going to permit this . . . usurper to take what was his. No, one way or another, he was going to rid himself of the wretch called Rumplestiltskin, for good and all.
A/N: Some of you may recognize the parallel between this and another famous story. What is it? Also, the name of Rumple's new estate refers to another Robert Carlyle role. Who knows what it is?
