The ogres were dead. Mostly. Some he had forced back up and over the mountains to start their population over, others he'd left asleep with his special poppies that would kill them when they woke, but once again he had managed to single-handedly spare a Kingdom by bringing those creatures to their knees. The deal was complete. The friends and family as well as the Kingdom of his new acquisition were safe, and he had a new maid. And he intended to put her to use.

It had been some time since he had a maid. He hadn't had one really since Baelfire was around, and the ones who had requested the job before always proved to be untrustworthy. This would be different though. This wasn't a street-smart girl asking for a job and plotting all along to overthrow him or…what was it the first one had wanted? To be his Queen? He nearly gagged at that particular memory.

No. This girl was nothing like that one or any of the others. To begin with, she hadn't asked or expected this job before he'd arrived in that chamber. A pampered palace brat was all she was. He doubted she'd ever done a single chore in her life, let alone moved anything heavier than a book. She wasn't street-smart, if anything she was book smart, and he would enjoy watching her see that all her education had amounted to was a knowledge that was unsuitable for the life she was about to lead. She'd give it a go for a week, maybe two, then begin to complain. He'd lock her in the dungeon more and more. She'd last a few months, maybe. Then she'd probably get sick, and he'd hand her off to someone else to watch over far from her father where he could find her when he needed her. For whatever it was that he was going to need her for. Hopefully, by the time that came to pass, he'd have discerned what it was that the Seer was trying to tell him about her, what purpose she served.

She'd been a feisty little thing when he'd thrown her into that dungeon, and it hadn't been a terrible surprise to him that the woman who dared to speak with such authority over the men in her life when he'd taken her would be feisty, but he hadn't expected to break her so quickly. By the time he returned to his dungeon with the mind to put her to use, he expected her to still be banging away at the door and screaming at him. But when he arrived downstairs, the only sounds he heard were quiet sobs from behind the door. They knotted his gut. It was an unexpected, and unpleasant, reminder of exactly where they stood. None of the other girls he'd hired had ever cried. But none of the other girls he'd hired had ever been kept here as part of a deal for an eternity. As he listened each small cry reminded him that this was by no means a normal situation they found themselves in.

But that didn't mean it couldn't become normal.

The voices assaulted him with memory after memory, his own and some of theirs, that reminded him exactly why he hadn't had a maid all these years. People were cruel and wretched, and even the dullest among them were conniving and cunning. This maid hadn't come to him as ordinary maids did, but that didn't mean she couldn't be any less a threat. Now that she was here, he couldn't let down his guard as he had with the others, lest this end the same way. She was crying, probably because she missed her family and was cold and miserable, but also probably out of fear. A little fear would do her some good. He'd have to keep an eye on this one.

Without warning, he opened the door to her cell, and the girl came tumbling out onto the floor before him, a cloud of yellow falling backward over his feet. He stepped away, his first instinct to refuse any groveling that she might have wanted to do but then realized that she wasn't groveling at all. She'd merely been leaning against the door and fallen when he'd opened it. Altogether a stupid choice on her part. How wonderful for him that he'd hired a clutz.

As soon as she'd had her own epiphany of who was standing there and what was going on, she scrambled to her feet and wiped the tears away from her eyes, though he could still see the red in her cheeks and the swelling in her eyelids. Best not to dwell.

"Come! Come now, dearie, we don't have all day!" he hollered, turning on his heel and walking away from her so that she might follow. He didn't stop to check on her. He didn't slow down to make sure she was following or knew where she was going or how to get back. That was just going to be something that she had to teach herself. He didn't have time to hold her hand. His observations told him that she was a smart girl, perhaps she'd be able to use that to help her now. Her first test was going to be simple enough.

He led her into the kitchen, located just below the dungeons, and let her take a look around as he lit the fireplace. He wanted to provide her with a test that was passable, not something impossible. She jumped when he moved away from her to leave her there.

"I shall take my tea upstairs!" he laughed before he turned on his heel and left. There. A test. No Princess or King or Queen or even Prince knew how to make their own tea. He might be lucky enough to find a Prince that could start a fire, or a Princess that could pick the most elegant china pattern, or a royal couple who knew how to trade in tea and cakes and pies but learn to make it for themselves? Laughable. And yet, if she was as smart as he suspected, then she'd probably at least seen someone make tea for her at least once in her life. Would she be able to do it? Enter into an unfamiliar room in every way, find the things she'd need to make and serve tea, then make it upstairs to him on her own? He didn't know. And the anticipation was killing him.

When he arrived upstairs in the great room, he pulled a chair magically out of another room and moved it to the head of the table that he used to sit at when he and Baelfire had taken their meals here together. He sat and he waited. And he thought. It had been a long time since he'd had to share this castle with anyone, though "share" when in reference to the help was a bit much. When he was here on his own he very rarely ate. He didn't really need to, his body would live on without food whether he wanted it to or not and if he ever felt hunger, he was quick to suppress the temptation much the same way he did when it came to the old habit of sleep. But just because he could survive without food didn't mean that he had to. If he wanted the girl to stay out of his business and not cause trouble for him, then he supposed he'd have to keep her occupied. It would be three square meals a day for him while she was here, lots of cleaning which he never cared about and would probably take up most of her time, and then laundry. He hated the thought of her going into the room he'd claimed for his own, rifling through his things, seeing his private space. But then it wasn't as if he slept there night after night. And after all these years alone, technically, this entire castle was his private space. It was just laundry. She'd go in, she'd fetch it, and that was it. If he should catch her doing more, then he'd put a stop to it. Besides, he'd said "forever", but he hadn't really meant it, not about this place. He'd meant it more to keep her away from her father who he was certain would never let him anywhere near her again after this. But this job, here at his castle, this was temporary. As soon as he figured out why she was so important, he'd figure out some way to safely get rid of her that would keep the future intact and her away from her father. It was a good solid plan, so long as the Seer would cooperate.

By the door to the lower floors, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over. Well now, test passed! And promptly enough. He'd been sitting there eight, maybe ten minutes. Certainly more than enough time to actually make tea but for someone he suspected had never done it before…bravo!

Though for now, she lingered in the doorway, a tray in hand, looking around as if she were a mouse wondering if she could take the cheese before the trap sprang. Respect for privacy, in an ordinary maid that would never do, for his purposes, it delighted him.

"Come now, dearie," he called out to her in a whimsical tone meant to taunt and scare all at once. "I don't bite…often."

She jumped a bit, whatever it was she had on her tray rattled with her nerves, but eventually she appeared in that hideous gown of hers in his room with her head still held high. She'd learn.

"You will, of course, have a number of duties as my caretaker," mentioned as she came forward to set the tray on the table. He'd rather listen to himself talk than her nerves rattling his dishes. "You will serve me my meals, and you will clean the dark castle."

"I-I understand," she nodded.

"You will dust my collection and launder my clothing."

"Yes," she nodded again as she took a cup and poured the tea. Yes. Her only reaction was "yes"? She was a Princess, she wasn't going to scream or complain?

"You will fetch me fresh straw when I'm spinning at the wheel."

"Got it." Another nod. Another yes. The woman she'd looked in on these last few years was a rebel in many ways. Was she not going to have any reaction?

"Oh! And you will skin the children I hunt for their pelts."

There it was. He'd suggested the ridiculous thing just as she'd taken the cup in her hands and straightened…and there it went tumbling to the floor and spilling all over his carpet as she gasped and went even paler than dear Snow White. He smiled as she stared at him slack-jawed. He'd wanted a reaction, and he got one, it was terribly funny what he'd had to do to get one though. And it might have been even more fun to let her think it was true and have her wait night after night for the day she had to do something so wicked…but he couldn't live with that look on her face much longer than it had to be there. Poor thing had bitten off far more than she could chew. If he'd been standing close, he'd have reached out to put a hand over her arm just to settle her nerves.

"That one was a quip," he assured her, trying not to laugh. "Not serious."

Color rushed back into her face, and she shook her head for a moment, almost as though she'd been light-headed, and then she did the most unexpected thing. She smiled. She snorted! Small and light enough that no one in her polite society would have noticed it, but it was there. She'd laughed right along with his joke. It was entirely unexpected. Yelling. Screaming. A delicate little nose turned up at such a disgusting excuse for a joke, any of that would have done! But a small laugh on her part and to say nothing but "right" as she located the fallen cup and stooped to retrieve it…that was uncharacteristic for the girl he'd watched. Had he broken her or not? Did he want to? He thought he did, but the idea that she might not be the person he'd watched in his ball saddened him. She'd be much more fun unbroken. He just hadn't known that until now.

"Oh…my…"

He leaned over to the side of the table to watch her when she didn't rise. Her face was twisted, nervous and sad looking all over again as she examined the cup she'd just retrieved.

"I'm so sorry, but…ah…it's-it's chipped," she shrugged turning it this way and that.

Was it? It was difficult to see in the firelight, with the jewels of that awful and impractical gown winking at him. For goodness sake, did she know how much cleavage she revealed at this angle? Holy men would have called it sinful. He wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the blush rising in her chest right now.

"Y-you-you can hardly see it!" she commented when he didn't respond. Her words drew his gaze back up to her face, twisted and worried with concern, and he had the urge to laugh, to tell a joke as he had before just to get her to laugh too. Such worry over a cup? Over something so insignificant? When she was so…

He shook his head, chasing away the haziness she'd put there. "Well, it's just a cup," he shrugged away.

Just a cup. And she was just a girl. A beautiful girl. He hadn't been caught off guard like that by a beautiful girl for years. This one…that beauty of hers could potentially be a problem. At least for the small bit of man he had left in him. In truth, he didn't even know he could make note of such things anymore. He was certain that would fade with time, but until then, it was best to be careful around her. It was best not to pay attention to firelight in her hair, or the blush in her chest, or the gentle way she smiled when she rose to pour him another cup of tea into the same cup she'd only just chipped.

She presented it to him honestly at least, a quality he could appreciate in a maid. But as she retreated to the corner of the room like a good servant to wait for him to finish his, drink he looked down at the cup...and his heart stopped.

He hadn't known, he hadn't seen until she'd presented it, which tea set she'd used. It was the one that he'd gotten when he first met Granny years ago. He always remembered a deal, but couldn't have forgotten this tea set if he tried! He'd completed a great task in order to extract something so simple as this tea set. And why? It wasn't terribly expensive or even beautiful for its time. No, he'd wanted it because of this, for this cup! The second he'd set foot in the home of its previous owner, it had called to him. It had practically jumped up and down and screamed, "take me. I'm yours!" But the first time he held it in his hands…it had been imperfect. Whole. It had been whole. And the Seer had whispered words in his head. "Not the right time", "too whole", "too perfect". He'd had no idea what it meant. After a few years of getting nowhere with it, he'd retired the set to some corner of the castle. Apparently, that corner had been the kitchen, for here it was again before him. Only this time, as he held the cup, now blemished and imperfect by a silly little chip he could repair with a wave of his hand if he wished to, in his hands the words he heard the Seer whisper were different.

"Complete, whole, perfect," she whispered over and over again. "Complete, whole, perfect. Complete, whole, perfect. Complete, whole, perfect."

Just a cup…not likely.


This chapter, though it may seem slow to you, is super important and it was really fun to write. I told you I got to do a lot of fun things for this section and one of those fun things was researching how men fall in love (because, FYI, I am, in fact, a woman). It was perfect. In my research, much to my happy surprise, I found that the way men fall in love is...layered. If a man doesn't know a woman, he usually is attracted first and foremost to a physical trait first (not always, but usually boobs and butt, sorry men, just repeating what I've learned). During a conversation there is usually something about the personality that they then find interest in, ("Oh, she likes sports too, perfect"), then another less obvious physical aspect comes into play ("those dimples are cute"), deeper interest ("and she's a fan of the Clippers, I love talking to her!), and then it sort of builds like that over and over again over time until the two kind of combine ("I love the way her smile lights up when she talks about basketball") and there you have it: a man in love. If a man does know a woman before being attracted to her, that is they have some kind of relationship either as friends or colleagues, it's essentially the same thing except you skip the first step and it comes at a later time. (Men if this is not your experience forgive me, I just read tons of articles and I'm parroting.) So with Rumple, his relationship to Belle is interesting because he doesn't really know her ahead of time, but she's not really a stranger either. So if you read back through all the Belle chapters thus far, I've been trying to carefully include these little layers. In her bed-chamber, before he even looks at her, he's struck by the books that she reads. In the counsel room he mentions that he likes her shoulders as well as being impressed by her boldness. Now here in this chapter, again he's impressed by her knowledge, her resourcefulness, her strength, and then what do we get? He's drawn to her cleavage and the realization that she's beautiful. It's all been carefully done so that we can sit here and know that he's falling in love long before he does.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, MissAmande and Jennifer Baratta for the reviews you left on the previous chapter. Things do start to pick up here after this chapter. We'll be in 2x19 for a bit but their interactions are a bit less...detailed. I really just wanted this chapter to get the idea that Belle is beautiful out of the way for Rumple. It seemed silly that after 200 years he'd behave like a 13-year-old boy stomping around and saying "she's not pretty! I don't like her!" So instead I thought we'd not beat around the bush, outright get him to say "Yeah, she's pretty, I'm going to have to not be drawn into that." And then...you know...watch him fail miserably. Peace and Happy Reading!