Rumplestiltskin had never before rested on such a soft bed. Not to mention, the room was bigger than his entire house, smelling of fresh linens and flowers.
Nevertheless, the grandeur was off-putting. It didn't matter how expensive the sheets were nor how much down was in the pillows—sleep eluded him.
He glanced at the bed next to him, where his son slumbered noisily. When had this happened? He wondered glumly. When had Bae gotten so old, old enough to get a girl pregnant? Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard. He was going to be a grandfather.
More than anything else, he wanted to wake Bae, say it wasn't too late. They could go back to their lives, run away, become shepherds in some faraway village. The idea was sorely tempting, to hide himself back into cowardice. But how could Rumplestiltskin ask his son to abandon his unborn child? If even he was the poorest shadow of a man, he would be less than scum if he asked Baelfire that.
There was nothing to be done. They had no choice. They would partake in the deception, pretend to be nobility. It would be easy for Baelfire to be a prince—his son was noble, brave, stout of heart. As for Rumplestiltskin—he would be a deep disappointment to their monarchs. And to this teacher they had engaged.
"Papa! Wake up! Papa!"
Rumplestiltskin awoke to the sensation of his son gently shaking his shoulder. He grunted a little, opening his eyes, forgetting briefly where he was.
"Go feed the sheep, son," He murmured. "I'll put the kettle on…"
"Papa, we're not at home," Baelfire prodded his father. "We're at the castle, remember?"
Memories of the previous events swarmed through Rumplestiltskin's mind and he took a deep breath. For an instant, he'd almost hoped it had been a terrible nightmare.
"Here," Baelfire handed him a delicate china teacup with an intricate rose design. "Some tea. Help you wake up. The servants brought us breakfast." He bit into a large pastry and Rumplestiltskin watched him, inhaling the scent of the tea.
"Bae," He said quietly. "Bae, why didn't you tell me about Emma?"
Baelfire chewed for a long time before finally swallowing. "I don't know," He confessed, fidgeting with the rim of his own teacup. "I guess—I was afraid. Afraid of worrying you. Afraid you'd try and separate me from her, scared of what the consequences might be."
Rumplestiltskin was unsure how to answer. What would he have done, had he known his only son was carrying on with their princess? He took a nervous swallow of tea. He would not lie to his son, he would've tried to put a stop to it. King Charming and Queen Snow White were gentle, fair rulers, but Rumplestiltskin remembered a time not long ago where his son would be put to death for merely looking at the princess in an untoward way.
They finished the rest of their breakfast in relative silence, dressing hurriedly and cautiously stepping out into the grand hallway. There was no one about but the occasional serving maid, carrying large baskets of laundry to and fro.
"Good morning."
Both Rumplestiltskn and Baelfire jumped, whipping around to face the Queen, who regarded them calmly.
"I hope you both slept well," Snow White cleared her throat. "We've a lot of work to do."
"Where's Emma?" Baelfire asked immediately. "Can I see her?"
"Emma's feeling a bit out of sorts this morning," Snow White replied. "Morning sickness. She's still abed."
Baelfire's brow furrowed in concern. "I want to see her," He insisted. "If she isn't feeling well, I should be with her."
Snow White's eyes narrowed. "I don't think it's appropriate for you to see Emma right now," She said smoothly. "You will be married soon enough, but as it stands, you two are still unwed and I do not plan on giving you leave to visit her bedchamber. In any case, I don't think Emma would want to see you right now. She's been throwing up since dawn, she's had no time to bathe—"
"I don't care about that," Baelfire said snappishly and Rumplestiltskin flinched a bit at his tone. "I don't care how she looks. If she feels ill, I want to be there for her. I should be bringing her herbal tea and hot rags and—and whatever she needs! And aren't we past the rules of propriety? Emma's pregnant with my child, we've a right to be together."
Snow White's expression was very cold for a long moment before she finally exhaled, her face softening. "I will let you see her. Later. After your instructor's had some time to mold you into aristocrats."
Baelfire exhaled impatiently. "The person who's supposed to teach us to be royal?" He said a little dryly and Snow White nodded in response.
"She's a close friend and a very good teacher," Snow White explained. "We've told her the particulars of the…delicacy in the situation. She will be discreet as well as informative."
Rumplestiltskin wanted to ask what exactly they'd be learning but his mouth went dry when the queen turned her gaze upon him. He stared at his shoes as Snow White bade them a pleasant morning, directed Baelfire on where to go, and headed back to her daughter.
"What do you think we'll be learning?" Rumplestiltskin wondered aloud.
They waited in the castle's library, a grand, beautiful room full of sloping stained glass windows and more bookshelves than he could count.
Baelfire shrugged uncaringly, glancing agitatedly at the door. "I dunno. How to wear our crowns properly?" He snorted at the notion, shooting the door another look.
"They're going to issue us land," Rumplestiltskin said worriedly. "And titles. What do I know of running an estate? I didn't even own a whole flock! The people will see right through me…"
"It'll be fine, Papa," Baelfire said absently and Rumplestiltskin gazed at his son, suddenly doubting that he understood the gravity of the situation.
"I wish this woman would hurry up," Baelfire complained. "Can't we get this over with? I want to make sure Emma's all right."
"Just be patient son," Rumplestiltskin exhaled, nervously looking at one particularly towering bookshelf. "I'm sure she'll be here soon."
"Yeah, some crabby old lady who will be horrified that we've got dirt under our fingernails and smell like sheep," Baelfire snorted, folding his arms over his chest. "This is probably the closest any of them have ever been to real peasants."
"Well," A bright, cheerful voice interrupted them, causing both men to spring to their feet. "It's always nice to subvert expectations. I'm hardly old, not opposed to dirty fingernails, and I like the smell of sheep."
A woman stepped through the doorway, smiling gamely. Rumplestiltskin's hand slipped off his staff and it fell the floor with a loud clatter.
She was beautiful. She was the epitome of loveliness, with ivory skin, and chestnut curls that tumbled down her shoulders. He had never seen such wide, merry eyes—they were a deep shade of blue, reminding him of the sky near his home during the summer. When she cast her glance on him, his tongue felt made of lead. She wore a simple, yet elegant blue dress, and held three or four books in her arms.
"And I wouldn't forget, Master Baelfire," The lady added, wordlessly bending down and retrieving Rumplestiltskin's staff. "That your king was once a peasant. Don't let your first impressions prejudice you."
She handed Rumplestiltskin his staff, curtseying. "My name is Belle. I'm very pleased to meet you both." Her hand grazed his as he took his staff and he swallowed hard, staring at his feet. This was worse than he had expected.
"Well," Belle remarked when neither man said anything. "How about we start off by getting to know one another?" She hopped easily on one of the tables, beaming charmingly.
Baelfire cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, milady. I didn't mean to offend. I suppose you know me already—I'm Baelfire, this is my father, Rumplestiltskin."
Belle waved him off with a delicate, pale hand. "No apologies necessary," She said carelessly. "And there's no need to call me 'milady'. After all, we want to create the illusion that you two are lords. Please, just 'Belle' will do."
Rumplestiltskin had still not managed to tear his gaze from the floor. Somehow, he was never more aware of his failings—the rags he wore, his lameness, his age…
"All right, Belle," Baelfire broke in cautiously. "Look, we're not exactly sure what we're supposed to be learning. We're shepherds, see, and Papa's a spinner. There's not a drop of noble blood in us and frankly, I didn't really have any intention of having this life."
"Intention's a funny word," Belle remarked. "I don't think you 'intended' to get the princess with child."
"No, but I did intend to marry her!" Baelfire fired back. "We were going to have adventures together. We were going to take care of each other."
"And so you are," Belle returned. "I know, Baelfire, this isn't an adventure you expected. But don't you think that through this, you will be taking care of each other?"
His son paused at that and Rumplestiltskin couldn't help a small smile at his lips as he continued to stare at his feet.
"So…why don't you two tell me what schooling you've had?" Belle asked gently and Rumplestiltskin flushed hard.
"I can read," He heard Baelfire answer. "My mother taught me. But Papa can't." His son was more or less right; aside from recognizing the occasional letter, the printed word was nonsense to him. He cringed a little, imagining Belle's disgust at his ignorance.
"All right then," Belle's tone was unfazed. "Baelfire, I think I'll start you off with a reading list. Some basic history, lines of nobility, politics, that sort of thing. And I'll just work with your father individually."
This abruptly jerked Rumplestiltskin out of his focus on the floor. He looked at Baelfire with what could only be described as abject terror.
"Erm," Baelfire coughed. "My dad's kinda…shy. Couldn't we work together?"
Belle smiled, her expression soft. "We will be working together," She assured him. "The three of us will be coming up with a grand, entirely false history for your family and lands—a veritable lineage. We'll need to work together when we go over various ceremonies, courtly rituals, etiquette, etcetera."
"But for now," She continued, walking over to Rumplestiltskin and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "First priority is literacy." Her small palm on his shoulder did nothing to calm his unease, rather, it made him want to hide in a wardrobe. He could imagine nothing more humiliating than sounding out words—he could almost hear her disgust and mocking laughter.
Belle gave his son a large stack of books and instructed him to read various sections. Baelfire looked warily at the stack, gave his father a helpless shrug, and disappeared into a corner of the library to read in silence.
Leaving Rumplestiltskin totally alone with the lady.
He tried frantically to think of something to say, but everything he thought of seemed slow and ignorant. He still could not manage to look her in the eye, so he focused his gaze on a spot on the wall above her left shoulder.
"Rumplestiltskin," He heard Belle say kindly. "There's no shame in not knowing how to read."
He couldn't help but glance at her, noticing how warm her blue eyes were. He cleared his throat, his fingers fidgeting on his staff.
"It's just a shame to stay that way," Belle said merrily. "I think you'll enjoy it. I love reading and it will be an absolute privilege to teach you, I promise."
Somehow, he managed to find his voice.
"Milady—" His throat felt dry. "Don't you think—don't you think I'm too old to learn anything of use?" He felt a little dizzy, looking into her deep blue eyes and tried to concentrate on her response.
"Nonsense," She replied. "You're not that old to begin with, and even if you were, it's never too late to plan a new plan or dream a new dream." She smiled again, gesturing for him to sit down, which was probably a good idea, seeing how weak his knees had gotten.
Baelfire snapped the book shut with an exasperated sigh. He would never have believed that being noble could be so boring. No wonder Emma constantly talked about escaping and having her own adventure.
Speaking of…Baelfire leaned his chair back, glancing at his father and Belle. They were across the room, deeply engrossed in a book as Belle spoke quietly. His father looked nothing short of enraptured, which made Baelfire smile a little.
They seemed to be busy enough. Baelfire quietly stood, ducking behind various bookshelves to escape their notice. The door to the library was particularly heavy; there was no way he could sneak through.
The window, however…
Climbing out the window was the easy part. As was sneaking across the various balconies before he finally reached a lower section beneath Emma's tower window. (She'd once made mention of where her room in the castle was, just in case.) The difficult part was clambering up towards the window, his fingertips clinging to whatever handhold he could reach, praying to every god he could think of that he not fall to his death. He once made the mistake of glancing at his feet to be sure they were secure and had a nasty tousle with vertigo. Eventually, he managed to clamber upon her windowsill, rapping against the glass gently.
At first, there was a long moment where Baelfire feared that he might be stuck on that window ledge forever. But finally, the opposite side opened and Emma poked her head out.
"Bae!" She gasped. "What are you doing?!"
"What's it look like I'm doing?" Baelfire wanted to know, rapidly tossing himself over the ledge into her bedchamber. "I wanted to make sure you were all right."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Please tell me you did not climb the castle parapets just to see me."
"All right, I won't tell you," Baelfire grinned, leaning in for a kiss.
Emma did not comply, instead choosing to smack him on the shoulder. "Idiot! You could've fallen to your death! What were you thinking?!"
"I was thinking that the lessons were boring and I wanted to see you," Baelfire returned. "Your mother said you weren't feeling well." He touched her face gently and Emma's exasperation softened slightly.
"Well, I've felt better, I'll admit," She sighed, sitting on her bed. "Just throwing up a lot. Mother says that she was ill very often when she was pregnant with me, but it probably won't last long."
"I'm sorry," Baelfire said sincerely, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Can I bring you anything? Can I do anything?"
"Oh sure," Emma replied a little dryly. "You can climb the castle parapets and nearly fall and bash your head in, leaving me to fend for myself with an illegitimate child. Oh wait." She poked him in the chin and he couldn't help a sheepish chuckle.
"All right, all right, I'm sorry," Baelfire grinned at her. "I won't do it again. I just—I just want to be there for you. For whatever you need."
Emma bit her lip slightly. "This—plan of my parents'…are you—do you want this? I don't want you to marry me just because—"
He silenced her with a kiss. "I always wanted to marry you," He assured her quietly. "I mean, I'll admit I didn't expect to become nobility—but it doesn't matter. This is just a different kind of adventure than the one we expected, but we'll do it together. We promised to take care of each other, right?"
She leaned against him a little, squeezing his hand. "Well, if you're going to be nobility, you ought to go back to Lady Belle," She said reluctantly. "We've a lot of preparations if we're going to pass you and your father off as nobles."
"She's got her hands full with my father at the moment; he's learning to read for the first time," Baelfire pointed out. "Let's just stay here for a little bit."
Emma smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of sunshine and flowers, feeling deeply content. It would be all right. They'd get through this. Together.
"You're doing very well," Belle praised.
Rumplestiltskin withheld a snort. Certainly some of the letters were familiar, but placing them in context was making his head pound.
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," Belle seemed to sense his doubt. "You're far too hard on yourself."
"I—I can't—" His voice lowered as once again, he was unable to meet her eyes.
"Rumplestiltskin," Her hand gently touched his chin, tilting him to stare directly at her. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I don't bite, not unless the occasion calls for it." Her grin widened playfully and his mind went blank at the mirth in her blue eyes. Her patience was astounding, there was no doubt of that. But he couldn't escape the feeling that it was all for naught, that he was simply too stupid to learn anything she had to teach.
"Hm," Belle commented dryly, glancing away from him for a moment. "Your son has disappeared."
He blinked in confusion, quickly scanning around the library. Sure enough, Bae had vanished from his nook.
"I suppose I should have foreseen that," She sighed.
"Where did he go?" Rumplestiltskin asked nervously, suddenly aware that they were now completely alone.
"Probably to visit the princess," The corner of Belle's mouth lifted. "I admire his devotion to her."
Rumplestiltskin was still trying to fathom that his only son and the princess even knew each other, so he merely nodded in response.
"Let's try again, shall we?" Belle asked. "And despite whatever you're telling yourself, you really are catching on quickly. You already knew your letters, that's half the battle right there. A good groundwork."
Something about Belle's praise felt wrongly won but pleasing her somehow made the endeavor worthwhile. He turned his attention to the book once more, trying to ignore how close Belle was, and how she seemed to smell of roses.