Rumplestiltskin had not seen Milah for twenty years.
She had never cared much for him. He understood that. Her parents had arranged the marriage, had been too poor to provide a proper dowry and were grateful that the solitary spinner had been willing to marry her with the pittance they'd provided. He hadn't much cared for such things. He'd admired her from afar, thought she'd make a practical and sensible wife—he'd considered himself fortunate.
They'd gotten along well in the beginning. Rumplestiltskin had tried his utmost to be kind to her, gentle, considerate. She'd made the best of the situation, gracing him with an occasional smile, expressing pleasure when he brought her flowers from the fields. But somewhere around her pregnancy, she'd grown resentful. When the wars had been too much for him, when he'd chosen to desert rather than be forced into the front lines, they'd found him and hobbled him. Milah had been disgusted at his newfound lameness and refused to share his bed any longer.
He'd thought that Baelfire's birth would warm her affections, bring them closer together. If anything, she became even more bitter, hating her role as a mother. When Baelfire was able to walk, she started leaving him at their house, choosing to spend her time at the taverns near the docks, where she'd dally with merchants and sailors. Rumplestiltskin had begged her not to leave. He'd cited his son's young age, how Baelfire needed his mother, how she had a duty as his mother. She hadn't listened. She'd run off with the pirate Killian Jones, declaring him her true love and the sea her second. She'd left without giving her family a second glance.
Rumplestiltskin had not wanted to hurt his son. How could he tell his only child that his mother had abandoned him? He'd chosen a lie, a lie of protection, said that she'd died when he was a child. In this way, Baelfire could keep her memory cherished, the fleeting images of warmth untouched.
He had never expected to see her again.
She was lounging in the entryway, looking careless and defiant. He was shocked to see her wearing breeches and boots, a curved sword strapped to her hip.
Her grin widened at his approach. She regarded him, dressed in royal finery, arching an elegant brow.
"Hello, Rumplestiltskin," Milah greeted him easily. "How are you faring?"
Snow shot an anxious look towards him. Milah knew who he was. She knew his origins.
"Milah," Rumplestiltskin's mouth was dry. "What are you doing here?"
She licked her lips. "Is it so wrong for a wife to wish to visit her husband and son?"
The queen stiffened. Rumplestiltskin didn't know what to say.
"Particularly," Milah went on, striding across the room to examine a golden frame. "Considering our son is to be married—or have I missed the wedding?"
"Milah," Rumplestiltskin recovered his wits. "I don't understand. How did you—how did you know we were here?"
She pursed her lips. "Really, husband, I'm not a simpleton. Your neighbors told me that the king had seized you both. A wedding announcement is proclaimed throughout the land. Fairly simple to put two and two together."
"What is it you want?" Snow's voice came out hard. Unforgiving.
Milah smiled. "Oh, simply to collect my share of the dowry."
"Dowry?!" Snow thundered and Rumplestiltskin cringed.
"He's my son, isn't he?" Milah said lazily.
Snow rounded on Rumplestiltskin. "Is this truly your wife?!"
Rumplestiltskin's mouth went dry. "I—you left, Milah. You left Baelfire when he was only three. You chose life with…with the pirate over your son." His voice became very quiet.
Milah's eyes flickered. "And what did you tell our son? Of my disappearance?"
"He told me you were dead."
The three turned. Baelfire stood at the foot of the hallway, Emma on his arm. His face was pale as he stared at Milah.
Milah's expression was closed for the briefest moment. After a cold moment, she allowed a small smile to emerge.
"Baelfire, my son," She began to walk towards him. "You've become a man…"
Baelfire didn't answer. There was a look of betrayal in his gaze as his eyes flicked between Milah and Rumplestiltskin. Emma had looked on with curiosity at the pirate woman, but now seemed more concerned with her new husband's distress.
Milah approached her son and daughter-in-law slowly. Baelfire, somewhat unconsciously, stepped a little in front of his pregnant wife.
"No need to fear, son," Milah said mildly. "I'd never harm your bride."
"How do I know that?" Baelfire's voice was hard. "I have no idea who you are."
"Bae," Her voice became small, vulnerable. "I'm still your mother."
His face grew hard. Emma's hand dropped from his arm, almost instinctively and he nodded at her, before turning to walk away. Rumplestiltskin started after him.
"Baelfire—" He said desperately, reaching for his son.
"You lied to me," Baelfire said, his voice raw. "You've never lied to me."
Rumplestiltskin's hand fell. Baelfire brusquely turned away from him and walked alone down the hall.
It was Emma who broke the silence.
"Well, now that we've had that happy reunion," She crossed her arms, casting a suspicious look towards Milah. "What do you want?"
Milah's lip curled at the defiant princess. "Shouldn't you go after my son? Comfort him?"
"I will," Emma replied calmly. "But right now he wants to be alone. You see, I've been with Baelfire long enough to understand and recognize his moods. More than can be said for you."
The pirate gritted her teeth. "Watch your tongue, girl."
"I will not," Emma snapped. "Your presence here has upset my husband. So what do you want? Money?"
Milah sized Emma up. It was clear she had expected an empty-headed princess with more frivolity than cunning. But her underestimation was her undoing; there were far more cleverer princesses than empty-headed ones.
"You know," Milah said decidedly. "I think I should like to have a word with my husband. As this is family business, after all."
Emma arched a brow, glancing at Rumplestiltskin and her mother. "As of last night, we are all family," She said proudly, looking for the world like her mother.
Rumplestiltskin broke in. "It's all right, Emma—I think it might be best if we settled this privately." He cast a pleading look towards Snow, who sighed in response.
"All right," She relented. "Go into the library. Have your conversation there. Keep it short."
Rumplestiltskin nodded towards the queen. Almost mockingly, Milah took his arm and he automatically led her down the hallway. He was half-tempted to jerk away, seek out his son, beg for forgiveness, but leaving the royal family to deal with Milah was cowardly. He was trying not to be a coward any longer.
He opened the door to the library and stepped inside with Milah on his arm. At that precise moment, he remembered that Belle had been waiting for him in the library.
She rose to greet him but her eyes widened as she noticed Milah on his arm. Rumplestiltskin suddenly flushed and Milah glanced between the two.
"Pardon us," Milah said to Belle, in what was possibly meant as a friendly tone. "We were given leave to speak alone."
Belle's head tilted slightly. She shot a questioning look towards Rumple, her gaze laced with concern.
He swallowed. "It's—we—she's—"
"His wife," Milah finished. "And we really have urgent business to attend to."
Belle's blue eyes widened. Rumplestiltskin was not imagining it—there was a flash of hurt on her face, enough to make him feel nauseous and loathsome. But the expression was gone, immediately transformed into cool composure.
"Of course," Belle said in a measured voice. "I'll let you two alone." Her face was blank and Rumplestiltskin desperately tried to catch her eye, to plead with her through his gaze. But Belle kept her gaze on her books as she gathered them and swiftly exited the library.
Milah tapped her fingers against her chin thoughtfully. "Well. She was very pretty."
Rumplestiltskin pinched the skin between his brows. "Milah—I still don't understand why you're here. Do you truly expect the king and queen will submit to your demands?"
Milah arched a dark brow. "Demands? I hardly think that's fair, Rumple. I'm sure you're getting a fine cut out of this marriage. I carried Baelfire inside my womb, I gave birth to him while you ran away from the wars—I deserve at least a little for that much."
He ran his fingers through his hair hurriedly. "Is this all you came back for? A dowry? You don't even care about seeing your son, alive and well, married and happy?"
Something darkened in Milah's expression. "Of course I care. I wanted to see Baelfire too. And although I don't care much for his wife's tongue—I wanted to make sure he's happy." She seated herself on one of the tables of the library, carelessly shoving a book off. It landed on its spine, pages bent, and Rumplestiltskin's brow furrowed.
"You can't pretend, Rumplestiltskin," Her gaze followed his as he reached down to pick up the book. "That you're not getting something out of this marriage."
He hesitated. He'd be given lands and titles, to be sure. He'd no idea whether or not they'd mean anything; he doubted the king and queen had thought that far ahead. Their priority was to ward off any scandal for their daughter, that meant marrying Baelfire and Emma as soon as possible, making a prince of Baelfire, and having a reasonable explanation for her pregnancy. What that meant for him…Rumplestiltskin didn't know.
"That's what I thought," Mila said, catching his expression. "You're being paid quite handsomely. It certainly doesn't surprise me, considering that the princess is carrying our son's child."
Ice flooded Rumplestiltskin's veins. He tried to control his emotions, harness an expression of blankness. "What do you mean?"
"I know the look of a pregnant woman," Milah yawned. "I assume their royal majesty is trying to keep it quiet."
He gritted his teeth. "What of it, Milah?"
"Nothing at all," She said smoothly. "I'm delighted. Congratulations are in order, we're to be grandparents. However…if my entitlement to this marriage is not settled, well…I'm not sure I'll be able to keep the secret hidden."
"You'd do that?" Rumplestiltskin was dumbfounded. "You'd ruin your own son?"
"There's nothing to ruin," Milah snapped. "He's a poor boy, a spinner's son. The only one who will be ruined is their royal highnesses, whom I could care less about. Have some sense, Rumple. If you were a little more pragmatic, you'd have thought of this long ago."
She hopped off the table and strode towards him. "I'll be in the village, staying at one of the local pubs. I'll call again tomorrow—I'm sure by then, the royal family will be more amenable to a fair dowry." She lightly kissed the corner of his mouth—he tasted bitterness and something sour. She sauntered towards the library doors and exited.
His face crumpling, Rumplestiltskin sagged into a chair, burying his face in his hands.
If Emma were not a princess, she'd give that Milah woman a piece of her mind.
There were a thousand names to call a woman like that, names that tumbled around Emma's head like swarm of hornets, but she bit them down. She couldn't stop thinking about the look of betrayal, of hurt on Baelfire's face—to think that Milah had left him, when he was only a small boy! It infuriated Emma. She couldn't claim that either of her own parents were perfect, but she knew they loved her fiercely. They'd sooner die than abandon her…
She bit her lip, her hands tentatively surrounding the small swell of her belly. Her beautiful baby, her sweet child—she had a feeling it would be a son. A boy, with her spirit and Baelfire's eyes…a hard lump in her throat formed. She could never abandon her child.
Emma shook herself slightly. Baelfire hadn't been in their room, but there were a few other places she'd expect to find him. She approached the armory and carefully opened it, peeking inside.
Sure enough, Baelfire was there. He appeared to be fixing a crossbow—or perhaps he was taking it apart, she couldn't quite tell. She smiled at him gently and took a seat next to him.
"Are you okay?" Emma asked softly.
Baelfire's lips twisted. "I dunno."
She stroked his shoulder thoughtfully. "And Rumple—he never told you? Anything about her?"
"He said she'd died," Baelfire replied flatly. "And I always thought—I wondered if something was missing from the story. But I never pressed the issue because—because I knew my father would never lie to me…"
"He shouldn't have lied," Emma agreed. "But you were so young when she left. He was trying to protect you."
"I know that," Baelfire rubbed his eyes tiredly. "But he should've told me nonetheless. Now I don't know how to feel."
Emma was quiet for a long moment. She rested her head against his shoulder in contemplation.
"What do you think she wants?" She asked quietly.
"I don't know," Baelfire said bitterly. "I don't know her." He buried his face in his hands and Emma wrapped her arms around him tightly.
It felt as though Rumplestiltskin had searched the entire castle for Belle. Of course this was not true. The castle was too vast, too expansive, and his leg impeded a thorough search.
He was just about to give up and linger in the library, with the frail hope that she might return, when he turned a corner and nearly ran into her.
"Belle—" Relief and fear swarmed through his chest. "I—I was looking for you…" He noticed that she was holding a satchel and a lavender valise.
There was a flash of something he didn't recognize on Belle's face, before she smiled cheerfully. "Well, you caught me just in time before I left."
Ice crept through his veins. "Before you…left?"
"Mm," Belle carefully didn't meet his frantic gaze. "My father has been writing me weekly asking when I'm returning to the Marchlands. I'm afraid I've been holding him off for too long."
"But—Belle," Rumplestiltskin whispered. "We—what of—of the lessons?"
"I think we can safely say that you and your son are well-prepared as you'll ever be," Belle replied, still in that dreadful, falsely bright tone. "It's been a pleasure teaching you both." She moved to walk around him and instinctively, his hand reached out and took her wrist.
They both stared at his hand in equal amounts of confusion. Belle's face softened.
"Oh, Rumple," Her voice was sad. "I've stayed here too long."
"That's not true," His voice broke. "I can explain—about—about Milah…"
Belle gave him a pained smile. "You don't have to explain anything, Rumple. We've…we've very separate lives, you know. I was honored to help the queen and I've loved getting to know Baelfire and…and you…but my place is with my father. And with my fiancé."
He dropped her hand limply, looking at her dejectedly. She slowly turned from him, starting to walk away and he watched her, completely at a loss. What was he to do? What could he say to make her stay?
Without warning, Belle turned to look at him. She dropped her valise and satchel and darted towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips to his fiercely but by the time Rumplestiltskin realized she was kissing him, she broke away from him, licking her lips. She picked up her valise and satchel and without a word, exited the hallway.
The taste of roses clung to his lips.