They sat together in silence under a clear night sky in early spring, a picnic blanket beneath them and the light of the full moon overhead. The world was quiet save for chirping of the crickets and the occasional calls of local owls. It was peaceful.
He sipped tea, kept warm with magic, from his chipped cup and watched his little maid out of the corner of his eye. She sat with her legs tucked neatly under herself, a book of folklore open in her lap, the pages being illuminated by the soft glow of an oil lantern she'd brought out with them.
He watched the way her teeth captured her lower lip when she lost herself in the words, the way her delicate little hands caressed the pages like a lover. He watched in silent awe of her.
She looked so perfect in the low light, so beautiful, ethereal even. With the stars dancing in her eyes she looked akin to a goddess, and he felt entirely unworthy of being in her presence. He was but an ugly, evil, little beast afterall. Whatever was she doing with him?
The way the shadows contoured her features, threatening to swallow her up suddenly seemed awfully poetic in his dark old heart.
He shouldn't be holding her here with him. He should've let her go months ago. She was far too special to live her life serving a monster such as him. He would only ever hinder her, perhaps even hurt her. She deserved so much better than this shit-end deal he'd offered her. While her people flourished she was trapped. She should be free to live her life, not shackled to him.
But then in moments like these, when she noticed his gaze and she smiled and blushed… When she giggled as he made an act out of not looking her way anymore. When she made playful, silly faces in his direction... Well, when that all happened the selfishness in him never wanted her to go. It wanted to bottle her up and keep her forever as his own little beacon of hope and happiness, his flicker of light in the ocean of darkness he called a life.
So when she started talking about shooting stars and the stories behind them, of wishes and miracles, pointing out details in the pages of her book, he took in every word. Moments and memories were something he knew he could keep without shame. This exchange here in the grass on this moonlit night, the passion in her eyes, the joy of learning and discovering in her every movement, the lack of disgust for him. He would keep it with him always, even if he sent her far away. Even if she ran.
"They say the first thing that comes to your mind when you see a shooting star is what you want most in this world. It's your wish." She stated, sounding excited by the idea. "What do you think yours would be?"
He hardly had to think. He knew the darkness and depth of his own mind almost as well as he knew how to spin. He knew what he would always want. "More."
"More?" She queried, head tilted slightly to one side, and by hell, did she ever look sweet and innocent like that. "More what?"
He chuffed out a short displeased breath. "Just more. I always want more. It's never enough." He told her truthfully, tone short and unwavering. It was something he'd noticed quite quickly after taking on the curse, it was never satisfied. He was never satisfied. No matter how much power or how many things he possessed. It was maddening.
Belle hummed in response, but asked no more questions. Instead she looked up to the sky and smiled softly at the moon. "I think I would wish for 'more' too." She revealed after a moment's consideration. "More stories, more adventures… more sunny days and reasons to enjoy them." She sighed wistfully. "I think most people want more of something or another, and I'm sure you know that too. You make deals with people looking for more all the time."
She paused briefly, glancing back towards him and offering him a small, supportive smile. "There's nothing wrong with wanting more. I think it's a part of the human experience."
He stared back at her in wonder and awe once again. She really was too good for this world, too good for him. So so bright and brilliant and wonderful. She was so filled with thoughts and insights, things he would've never considered connecting together on his own. She was full of optimism and hope.
She was everything he wasn't.
He steeled his expression, his usual protective mask of indifference slipping into place as he turned to look toward the sky again, like she had earlier. "Perhaps…" was all he said.
He felt her gaze leave him after a moment and return to the stars, and it was then that they both witnessed it, a streak of glowing light running across the sky.
A shooting star. How lucky.
And to his surprise his first thought was not 'more'. It was of Belle.
And more surprising still was that just as he was beginning to berate himself, to call himself a wicked fool, to crush any hope that threatened to claw its way in… he felt the brush of her hand over his.
He looked down to the blanket top where his ugly, clawed hand rested as he'd been leaned back and he saw her soft, pretty little fingers caressing it. Her palm covering and enveloping his own, holding him with care like she did her books, like she would a lover. He felt his heartbeat stutter.
Could she…? Could they…?
"I hope your wish comes true, Rumple." She sighed again. "Whatever the 'more' be, I think you deserve a little happiness."
