Few people in the city of Port d'Illyrie had no heard of Monsieur Henri Maurice, if not for his famous wealth then for his electric brood of children. Electric, because they were not his children by blood; M. Maurice had never been interested in getting a wife (or husband), but he was made for fatherhood, so he went down to the orphanage every once in a while to find another child to raise. In twenty years, he had adopted 6 children: Charles, Louis, Josephine, Yvette, Olivier, and the youngest, Rosalie; who was so beautiful that everyone began calling her La Belle, then simply Belle.
M. Maurice made his living in trade, which garnered him a great deal of wealth and respect. His sons spent many hours in Port d'Illyrie's gambling dens drinking and entertaining women, most of whom hoped to marry into the family and enjoy their lavish lifestyle. His two elder daughters menaced the local seamstresses, cobblers and jewelers with ever-increasing demands for elaborate gowns, shoes, earring, necklaces, pendants, and more. Almost every man in the city had proposed to each of them, but they swore to only marry a man as wealthy as their father.
In contrast to her siblings, Belle's interest lay in books. She spent many days in the library or under the shade of the maple tree in her backyard absorbed in the words of poets, scholars, and king. Most of all, she relished in tales of heroes and warriors who protected the innocent and bringing justice to lawless kingdoms. As a little girl, she would run around the gardens and orchards of her father's estate pretending to a knight and drove her nursemaids mad with her antics.
Belle's carefree life shattered forever when her father returned home pale and soaking wet. M. Maurice collected all his children in the sitting room, sat in his favorite armchair wrapped in heavy wool blankets, and explained that 4 ships carrying his investments had been swept away in a storm. He was financially ruined.
In a whirlwind few days, M. Maurice had been forced to sell most of his material possessions to cover his debts (despite Josephine and Yvette pleading on their knees to keep their jewels) and he let all his servants go with glowing recommendation to future employers. M. Maurice sold the mansion they could no longer afford to live in and bought a small farm outside the city; the rest of the money would be used for emergencies only.
The five elder children meandered around in a state of shock (when they weren't lamenting their misfortune), but little Belle rolled up her sleeves, put her childhood dreams to the side, and put her whole heart into making her new life a good one. She planted a vegetable garden outside her and her sisters' bedroom window; she make sure her sisters didn't neglect their new chores; she pestered her brothers into learning to farm to lift some of the burden from their father's old, slumped shoulders; she sang and told stories in the evenings to keep their spirits up. Despite their hissing and grumbling, Belle's siblings were grateful to have her make the transition a little more bearable. M. Maurice didn't know what he would do without Belle and she cemented herself as his favorite child.
A year into their exile, a courier arrived on the farm on horseback; one of M. Maurice's ship arrived safely in port. His sons had him in a traveling coat and out the door so quickly, his daughters almost missed the chance to say goodbye. Josephine and Yvette send him off with a list of dressmakers and jewelers he had to see once they got their fortune back.
When he asked Belle what she wanted upon his returned, she replied, "As long you home safely, Papa, that's enough for me."
"My dear, you must want something. I couldn't bare to see you go without," M. Maurice told her.
Belle acquiesced and said, "Then bring me the most beautiful rose you find."
Rumpelstiltskin watched Killian Jones leave the Rabbit Hole after the bar fight (and an inordinate amount of time spent flirting with Emma Swan; wasn't that a surprise?) from his shop window. A few nights ago, he'd caught Jones snooping around his shop and it took all his willpower not to strangle the man. He didn't know how much Jones remembered of the Enchanted Forest, but he knew better than he show all his cards; Jones didn't know anything about him, either.
Damn Delfina Jones, he'd never be rid of that woman. Even from beyond the grave, she'd sent her son to try to ruin his plans. Although, things had been going off the rails since Queen Snow had chosen to send her infant daughter to the Land Without Magic instead of one of her sons. If Leopold, the crown prince, were the Savior, he might have already found Baelfire and woken Belle from the sleeping curse, but no, he had to deal with the stubborn princess who knew nothing of magic and refused to believe in anything.
Before he knew it, weariness crept up on him and Rumpelstiltskin decided to call it a day and return home. When he reached the driveway, he noticed Mrs. Jackson's car in the driveway and dread hit him like a baseball bat.
When he got into his house, he found Mrs. Jackson in Belle's room standing over her with a concerned expression. "Good evening, Mrs. Jackson. I thought you'd be home by now."
"Normally I would be, but I stayed behind to talk to you about Belle's condition - it seems to be worsening. Her oxygen saturations have been getting lower today and I'm worried that she's developing pneumonia."
Rumpelstiltskin noticed that Belle's face had an unusual pallor. "Then why didn't you call me?!" he snapped.
"I did. Multiple times," Mrs. Jackson answered coolly.
Irate, Rumpelstiltskin grabbed his phone from his pocket and saw all the missed calls and text messages. He made a sour expression and said, "So, how do you plan to treat her? Do you have everything you need here?"
"Here? No, she needs to go a hospital."
"That's out of the question. Privacy is a top priority."
"It's gonna have to come after Belle's wellbeing," Mrs. Jackson said firmly, "I don't have all the necessary equipment to treat her, not to mention, I can't be with her round the clock."
"Then drop your other clients and I'll double your pay."
Mrs. Jackson looked at him incredulously, "Aren't you hearing me? Belle needs to be in a hospital. As soon as possible."
Rumpelstiltskin clenched his teeth. He'd done a good job of keeping Belle's existence secret from Regina, but now there was no chance Regina wouldn't find out and somehow use Belle against him. But he couldn't compromise Belle's health, not when he was so close to finally reviving her.
"Fine," he growled, "Call an ambulance and have her taken to Storybrooke General."
Rumpelstiltskin watched Belle resting in the hospital bed, hooking up to IV and monitors and, not for the first time, it really struck him had drastically their lives had altered from the peaceful, happy days spent together in his castle. He could almost picture her sitting by the hearth with a thick book, gently teasing him between chapters while he spun gold in the corner. He longed to press her soft, pink lips against his, to feel the warmth from her skin and hear her laughter. Here in her hospital bed, she could have passed for a corpse.
When someone knocked on the door, Rumpelstiltskin glared and wearily said, "Come in." He already knew who it was.
Regina entered with a wicked basket full of apples and a smile full of icy-white teeth. "I wish I could say 'Good evening,' but it's not, is it? When I heard what happened to your wife, I just had to stop by."
Rumpelstiltskin did not reply.
Making her voice sound innocent and sweet, Regina remarked, "After all the years we've known each other, I can't believe I have never met her. It's almost as if you've been hiding her from me. Anyway, I thought you'd like some apples; they're picked from my favorite tree."
"Keep them," Rumpelstiltskin answered in a empty voice.
She patted his head condescendingly, "I understand this is a difficult time for you, so I'll forgive your rudeness."
Regina set the apples down and stood on Belle's other side. Rumplestiltskin resisted the urge to throw her out of the window.
"You can go now," he growled.
Regina played with a lock of Belle's hair, "She's so beautiful, isn't she? Who wouldn't fall for that pretty face? It's shame this is happening to her, but she probably won't get much worse. Not if you take very, very good care of her."
"Get out." Rumpelstiltskin hissed.
"I can see you don't want company, so I'll let you have your privacy, but don't think I won't be checking up on you and your darling wife," Regina threw him a cold smile and left.
M. Maurice's hopes died like a candle in rain when he reached Port d'Illyrie and learned that his former business partners had gutted the ship for anything of monetary worth. He had just enough money to rent a room at the inn for a night and buy one hot meal, and the next morning he set off with home and his soon-to-be-disappointed children. M. Maurice retraced his steps, but as the freezing forest grew denser, he realized that he had lost his way. He went back the way he come, but that only get him more lost than ever. Snow come down from the sky gently, but the fierce wind threatened to rip his cloak from his shoulders.
Midnight fell, the stars and full moon glowing against the black sky as Maurice spotted smoke arising in the distance. If he couldn't find home soon, he could at least find some shelter from the bitterly cold night. He traveled along the desolate, lonely trail until he came upon a cavernous castle made of black stone. He entered the gates and tried to announce himself, but no one answered.
While he wandered through the castle's many rooms, M. Maurice looked out a window and saw a greenhouse with hundreds of blood red roses in full bloom.
Belle got down from the unsteady wooden chair after she finished hanging the newly-washed drapes over her bedroom window. She was the only one in the house doing chores, however, as her siblings were to busy dreaming of the riches their father would bring home; the expensive, tailored garments, the fine food and exotic wine, the nights of dancing and parties and gambling that awaited them when they returned to their former status. The year of solitude and humble labor melted off them like candle wax and they reverted to the spoiled, materialistic children she had known in Port d'Illyrie.
"Why the long face, Belle?" Josephine clutched her little sister's hands and gaily spun her around. Their dancing and laughing woke up Yvette. "When father comes home, everything will go back to normal. We'll finally be happy again!"
Belle gave Josephine a half-hearted smile, "I'm happy here. It's quiet and enjoying working with my hands."
"You're such an odd girl, Belle," Josephine giggled affectionately. She kissed Belle's cheek and continued, "If you want, we can keep the farm and hire a ton of servants to help you run it and keep you company. And we'll come visit whenever you want."
Yvette stretched her back and arms like a cat and joined in with, "Speak for yourself. Belle should come visit us, in civilization. If I never see this place again, it'll be too soon."
A few moments later, Charles pounded on the door and cried, "Father's returning. Olly spotted his horse from the roof."
"What was he doing on the roof?" Belle asked, but her sisters didn't hear her in the excitement to see their father again. Belle followed after them, while Louis joined them, and Charles and Olivier were already outside.
The Maurice siblings' excitement turned to disquiet when they noticed how pale and tired their father appeared. Charles and Olivier rushed forward to help their father from his horse, while Yvette went in the house to prepare warm blankets for him. The fright in Henri Maurice's eyes chased away all thought of riches from his children's minds, as they were now only concerned with their father's wellbeing.
As he drank a cup of tea Belle had prepared to warm him, M. Maurice recounted the unfortunate journey, from the discovery that his old friends had robbed him to the vast, gloomy castle and the beast that roamed inside.
"I thought, if I couldn't bring home anything else, at least I could bring Belle a rose," M. Maurice explained. "The beast was upon me on a moment. He told me that the curse was on me, and that I would eventually have to return to the castle unless someone else took my place."
"It should be me!" Belle cried instantly, tears in her eyes. "You wouldn't be cursed if I had just asks for dresses and shoes like Josie and Vettie."
Josephine snapped, "Don't be ridiculous, Belle. You are not to blame for this; we ought that horrid beast for cursing Papa."
"What else can we do?" Belle argued. "That monster will surely be back for him."
Charles put his hands on Belle's shoulders, "When the time comes, we will fight and kill the beast, before he can get him claws any more innocent people. We're warn our neighbors and friends of this threat, and they'll join our cause. Don't worry, little sister, this beast will never touch our father again." His answer did not reassure Belle, but she did not reply.
The next morning, Belle's bed and one of the stalls in the stable were empty.
From Belle's perspective, the castle didn't seem half as large or frightening as her father had described, though she knew better than to let her guard down. As she approached the gates opened on their our accords, almost as if they'd been expecting her. There was nobody around, so Belle stabled the horse herself and, once she was sure it would have enough food and water for the rest of the night, went into the castle to face the beast.
The modest-size foyer led her to a cavernous front hall that opened like the maw of a bear, with rows and rows of dimly-lit chandeliers for teeth.
"Hello? Hello!" Belle called.
"There's no need to shout," a low, grumbling, male-sounding voice that sounded only half-human appeared somewhere above her.
Belle snapped her head upward and scanned the upper level balcony that overlook the large room, but she saw nothing. Panic struck her then - she wanted to run but her legs had turned to lead. "Who are you?" Her voice warbled, "Where are you?"
"Unimportant," the voice replied. It had a grating qualities that send rough shivers down Belle's spine.
Despite this, Belle steeled herself, reminding herself that it was too late to turn back and she couldn't condemn her father. "Are you the beast?" she dared to ask.
Several moments passed before the voice answered again, "I suppose I am."
"I am Rosalie Maurice, daughter of Henri Maurice of Port d'Illyrie," Belle announced. "You placed a curse on my father and I am here to take his place. It was for me he picked that rose, so his punishment should be mine."
"You are mistaken. I did not curse your father, the curse grabbed hold of him," the Beast told her. "If you wish to take his place, you may, but do not lay your misfortune at my feet."
"Very well. I've told you my name, tell me yours," Belle said.
The voice did not reply, and Belle sensed that she was now alone. She wandered through the castle without aim, simply to familiarize herself with her new "home". Every surface of the castle had been polished clean and no matter where she turned, every corridor and every room lay empty; it could have been a tomb for all she knew.
A little spark of light shot by her eyes, and having getting used to the totally lack of light, Belle shrieked in surprised. A second later, the spark twirled around her head before floating in front of her eyes.
Belle blinked, "What's this?"
When she reached out to touch it, the spark move back slightly, but didn't leave. It move back a little move, but stayed within her sight. Belle took a step forward and the spark continued in that direction. She followed it until they reached a door in the west wing of the castle, and from there Belle opened it to a large, richly-decorated bedchamber with a bedroom, washroom, and sitting room.
She missed the bedroom she had shared with her sisters.
Belle did not leave the room for a week. Three times a day, food would cover table in the sitting room. When she wanted to bathe, the bathtub would be full of warm water; the wardrobe would have a new dress for her to wear; and when she returned to the washroom, the tub would be empty and clean as if she hadn't used it all. In the time, no one had come into her chambers.
She hadn't heard the voice of the beast, nor seen him outside her window. Eventually, boredom and the lure of the outdoor drew Belle out of her rooms. She wanted through the halls for half the morning, before she ventured outside. Plush, emerald green grass covered rolling hills as far as she could see, with large thickets dotting in the landscape and wild flowers blooming everywhere. She noticed the greenhouse with its gorgeous roses; she avoided it.
The being outdoors may have been nice, but it did little to relieve the crushing loneliness that threatened to envelope Belle. Growing up in a large family, she always had someone to play with or read to or argue with, but in this vacant castle, she might have well have been buried underground. And it was driving her mad.
One day, as she was wandering the halls again, she called out, "Are you still there?"
Belle felt embarrassed, shouting in an empty room, but then the Beast's voice answered, "I am. What do you want?"
"Can you see me, wherever you are?" she asked as she quickly looked around the room.
"I can sense you, because I tied to the castle, but no, I cannot see you," the Beast answered.
"You can't see me, or you don't want to see me?" Belle challenged. "You appeared in front of my father; at least, that's what he told me."
"At that time it was necessary that I show myself."
"Will you show yourself to me now? It's odd speaking to a voice and not having a face to put to it."
"I do not wish that."
That made Belle pause. So far, she'd only thought of him as an unstoppable, unfeeling force, but that idea that he didn't want her to know his appearance made him a little less mythical. Was the Beast...insecure about his looks? Belle pushed the thought from her head; more likely, he simply didn't think she was worthy of looking at him.
"Do you have a name?" Belle asked.
The Beast replied, "I did, once."
Hunger forced Rumpelstiltskin to leave Belle's side and go to the hospital cafeteria before he starved himself. He ate quickly, not tasting anything, but right before he got up to leave, a women in green scrubs and a white doctor's coat sat down across from him.
"Fancy seeing you here," Zelena smiled.
No, he reminded himself, this was Dr. Rosie West, a respecting and well-liked OBGYN; the only one in Storybrooke, in fact. He forced a response out of his throat, "I suppose. My...uh...my wife is ill."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Dr. West placed a hand over his.
Rumpelstiltskin repressed a shutter and tried to be polite. "I appreciate that."
"Truth be told, I didn't even know you were married. You don't wear a ring."
He shrugged, "I prefer to keep my private affairs to myself."
"Well, I should stop bothering you and let you get back to her," Dr. West got up.
Yes, please, Rumpelstiltskin thought.
Dr. West turned to leave, but then turned back, "I could keep tabs on her...if you want. Don't get my wrong, I'm sure she'll in good hands, but if you want to ask for while you're at work or can't come here... I don't know, you just seem so worried."
Rumpelstiltskin looked at her and knew immediately the offer was genuine. Rosie West had none of Zelena's malice or cruelty, but the irony of trusting his wife's well-being to Regina's sister wasn't lost on him.
"I'm touched. Thank you dearie."
