"Belle, what do you think?"
Belle put down her book and smiled at the young princess. Emma was wearing a beautiful, silvery-blue dress—the dress she would wear to the celebration ball the following evening. The dress was cleverly tailored, cinched just under bosom to disguise her already growing belly, and the swooping full skirt was flashy and ornate enough to distract. Emma looked gorgeous, a true princess, and she was positively glowing.
"I hope Baelfire is a steady sort," Belle remarked. "Because you look breathtaking, Emma. I wouldn't be surprised if his knees gave way at the sight of you."
Emma giggled and twirled in her skirt. "I'm so excited," She confessed. "I can't wait for him to meet everyone. I can't wait to—show him off, I guess. That's silly, I know, but I'm so looking forward to being married to him!"
"Well, you won't have long to wait," Belle squeezed the princess' shoulders.
"I wish I could wear this dress tonight," Emma said ruefully and Belle smiled in spite of herself.
"You do look lovely in it, but it is ostentatious," Belle laughed. "It will be perfect for the celebratory ball. But your wedding tonight is supposed to be quiet. Private. Only your parents, myself, and Rumplestiltskin will witness. So ostentatious for the ball, quiet elegance tonight."
"You're right," Emma sighed, beginning to undo the back of her gown. "At least tonight Bae will finally be able to sleep in my bedroom."
Belle snorted. "I don't believe that's stopped you two before, your Highness," Her blue eyes twinkled and Emma blinked at her, the picture of innocence.
There was a knock at the door and Belle's faithful manservant poked his head in. "Excuse me, mademoiselle, but they are ready for you."
"Thank you, Lumiere," Belle said gently, standing straight. Emma had changed from her ball gown to a simple white dress, with lace embroidering the collar, the slim skirt grazing her toes. She brought to mind a swan and Belle smiled to herself, thinking that Emma made a lovely "swan princess".
Belle wore a simple lavender dress—like Emma, her ball gown would be much more elaborate. She took Emma's arm and led her out of the princess' dressing room, keeping a sharp eye for nosy servants. The wedding was not to be secret, simply private—but there was no telling what a scullery maid would say for a gold coin. They walked briskly through the corridors, leading straight to the chapel.
There was a cathedral not a mile from the castle, one of the oldest and grandest buildings in all the land, where Snow White and Charming had married. But Emma and Baelfire were to be married in the small private chapel within the castle itself, away from prying eyes, with a respectable cleric who could hold his tongue. Belle never much cared for the priests in the Marchlands—something about them always rubbed her the wrong way, but she had met the officiator. He was a kindly old man who had christened Emma and looked about as intimidating as a hummingbird.
They reached the chapel doors and Belle peered through the window. She saw the king and queen standing at the front and smiled when she saw Baelfire stretching on his tiptoes, craning his neck to see his bride.
Belle squeezed Emma's elbow and signaled to the king. Charming strode down the aisle and opened, taking his daughter's arm.
There was no music, but the King walked his daughter down the aisle to the rhythm of her excited heartbeats. Belle trailed behind them, taking her place next to Emma, reveling in the warmth and happiness of the moment.
She smiled at Rumplestiltskin, who had watched her walk down the aisle with a rapt expression on his face. He flushed and averted his gaze. He looked terribly nervous, poor thing. After all, in a few moments, his son would be forever bound to the Princess Emma. Everything he had ever known was about to change, replaced with the pageantry and grandeur of noble life.
Belle rather wished she could stand next to him and give his hand a comforting squeeze.
The grandfatherly cleric, Father Augustine, cleared his throat. "In perfect love and perfect trust," He began. "Who brings their daughter to be hand-fasted?"
Charming's eyes were suspiciously misty as he spoke. "I do." Emma kissed her father's cheek and stepped forward.
"And who brings their son to be hand-fasted?" Father Augustine put emphasis to every word, never mind Baelfire was standing right next to him.
Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat. "I do," He said quietly. Baelfire took his father's hand and kissed it, before breaking away from him and stepping towards Emma. Belle watched Rumplestiltskin's eyes fill with tears.
"My children," Father Augustine said warmly. "Give me your hands."
Emma and Baelfire brought their right palms forward. Father Augustine unfurled a stream of silk ribbon, tying their wrists together.
"In perfect love and perfect trust," Father Augustine smiled at them. "What do you vow to each other?"
Baelfire took a deep breath. "I, Baelfire, son of Rumplestiltskin, bind myself to Emma, in joy and adversity, in wholeness and brokenness, in peace and turmoil, living with her faithfully all of our days. May the gods give me the strength to protect her from cruelty, to love her unashamedly, and be faithful to her always. So mote it be." His gaze did not drop from Emma's, his hand gently clasping hers underneath the bindings of the ribbon.
"I, Emma, daughter of King David and Queen Snow White, bind myself to Baelfire, in joy and adversity, in wholeness and brokenness, in peace and turmoil, living with him faithfully all of our days," Emma said in a rush. She inhaled, forcing herself to slow down. "May the gods give me the strength to defend him from injustice, to love him without fault, to be faithful to him always. So mote it be." Charming made an unpleasant noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob.
Father Augustine smiled at them both, pouring a chalice of wine. "My children—the course of true love never did run smooth. Be understanding and patient, each with the other. Be free in giving affection and warmth. Be sensuous with one another. If it please the gods to give you children before the year is out—"
Charming flashed a warning look at the cleric.
Father Augustine paid him no heed. "Then you must learn not only to be husband and wife, but mother and father. Trust in each other. In perfect love and perfect trust, I give you to each other, by the will of the gods. Take your first sip of wine together, for you are now one."
Emma's eyes shone with tears. Baelfire gently tilted the chalice towards her lips and she drank deeply. Emma was not nearly as graceful, tipping a little too much wine and spilling it across Baelfire's jerkin, but it did not matter. It was oddly representative of their courtship as a whole.
They were man and wife.
"May the peace of the Old Ones go in our hearts," Father Augustine rang a silver bell three times. "So mote it be."
Emma beamed as Baelfire bent his head to kiss her. Belle smiled as she saw Snow clinging to Charming, her usual serenity broken by tears of joy. She sighed and gave Rumplestiltskin a comforting smile, as he looked a little lost.
Snow cleared her throat, wiping her eyes rapidly. "All right, that's settled," She briskly hugged her daughter.
"We should have a feast to celebrate!" Emma said eagerly, her arm looped around Baelfire's elbow.
"We haven't announced your marriage yet, Emma," Snow said disapprovingly. "We'll feast at the ball. It's only a week away, after all. I think a quiet, private dinner for the newlyweds should—"
At the word 'private' Emma squealed in delight and darted away, dragging Baelfire behind her. Snow sighed in exasperation and Charming looked murderous. The king and queen nodded towards Belle and Rumplestiltskin, who curtsied and bowed in acknowledgment.
Belle sidled up next to the spinner. "Are you all right?" She asked quietly.
Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat. "Yes. Yes of course."
She touched his arm. "Rumple, it's all right to be emotional. Your son just got married. It's a time of joy and celebration—but a time of loss too."
He looked at her sadly. "I just…he was a wee boy on my knee, not a few moments ago. And now…sometimes I wonder if I even know who he is. Have I missed the man he's become? Was I too caught up in keeping him as a child?"
"Oh, Rumple," Belle said tenderly. "There's nothing more natural in the world than looking at your child and wondering where the time's gone." She let her hand settle on his shoulder.
"Would you like to join me in the library for some wine?" She invited. "I keep a sifter in the globe for special occasions and stormy nights."
The spinner looked tempted but Belle was disappointed when he shook his head. "I should…I should retire," He said quietly. "It wouldn't be seemly… But thank you. I will see you in the morning." He walked away from her quickly, and Belle watched him leave, a little crestfallen.
Perhaps it was for the best. She was getting a little attached to Rumplestiltskin—and she wasn't going to be here forever. Her father, the Marchlands, and her fiancé were all waiting for her.
Belle sighed and went back to her bedroom.
The following morning, Rumplestiltskin came to the library and was surprised to find Belle the only one there. She greeted him with a smile and a cup of tea calmly remarking that Baelfire was forgoing lessons tonight in favor of spending the morning after his wedding with his bride.
"I can't really blame them," Belle chuckled. "They've been in love for a while now and have been very impatient to be married. I can understand that." She smiled at Rumplestiltskin a bit dreamily.
Curious, he hesitated before speaking. "Are you…impatient to be married?" He felt foolish for how it sounded but he couldn't resist asking.
Belle set her cup of tea down thoughtfully. "Hm. I don't know," She said musingly. "I am…engaged. Like most women in my land, my father set a proposal for me at a very young age. I don't know if I'm eager for that marriage."
Rumplestiltskin's heart sank a little at the mention of her betrothal.
"What about you?" Belle inquired. "Were you eager to be married? To Baelfire's mother?"
Rumplestiltskin looked away. His marriage to Milah had also been arranged—and very unhappy. He'd told Baelfire that she had died, but the truth was Milah had run off with a pirate, abandoning her young child in favor of a life of excitement—something he never would have been able to give her.
"I was…more nervous than anything else," He cleared his throat. "Milah and I barely knew each other."
"Rumplestiltskin."
Both Belle and Rumplestiltskin turned to see Snow standing in the library. Her face was paler than usual and her lips were firmly drawn.
"Would you please follow me," Snow requested.
" Is everything all right?" Belle asked, her brow furrowing.
Snow ignored the question. "Rumplestiltskin. Please." She whipped out of the room, Rumplestiltskin close on her heels.
"Your majesty," He puffed after her—his staff had been replaced with an ornate cane. "What is it?"
"There are pirates in the harbor," Snow replied tersely. "And one of them wants to talk to you."
Baelfire awoke to the soft sound of Emma turning over in her sleep. He took in the morning, how the streams of light framed Emma's peaceful slumber, how it felt as she nestled her head against his chest. He sighed in contentment, gently stroking her hair, smiling at her swell of belly. She was so beautiful.
Emma stirred when he traced a finger down the curve of her stomach. "That tickles, stop," She mumbled and he grinned unrepentantly.
"Good morning," Baelfire said softly, kissing her cheek.
Emma grumbled, flinging an arm over her eyes. "It's too early."
"If you had your way, you'd sleep the day away," Baelfire informed her lovingly and Emma opened one eye.
"Not sleep," Emma retorted with a mischievous grin, pulling Baelfire towards her. He melted into her kiss, inhaling her sweetness.