There was another scream outside, this one closer than the others had been. It startled him, served as a reminder for why he was standing in the foyer to begin with, and it wasn't to run accidentally into his maid. He was here to meet Regina. She was close. By the time he heard the pounding on his door, he was in place, leaning against the table in the very spot Belle had been standing only moments ago. He let the door unlatch and Regina, still perfectly disguised as a peasant girl without a drop of magic, practically fell into the room.

"Why didn't you come when I called you?!" she spat out. She was limping, that was a trait he hadn't given her, though he didn't know why now that he saw it. It made the peasant look she wore very convincing; he should know.

"Sorry, dearie. Do I know you?" he teased. "I already have a maid. Promising girl, actually."

"You know who I am!" Regina snapped. "You were supposed to come change me back."

He let out a high laugh. "Was I?"

Regina glared at him, or at least her idea of what a glare was. Unfortunately, on the face of this girl it was no more than a harsh stare that glance off of him. If only she knew what he'd really been up to when she'd called. Hadn't she learned yet that he had a life beyond her?

"I said you could call. Didn't say I'd answer."

"Argh!" she roared suddenly, letting out a puff of breath into his face that smelled…less than appealing. It brought back memories, and not good ones.

"Oh!" he responded, waving his hand in front of his face. "Have the peasants no soap then?"

"Will you just take this damn spell off me?" she yelled, walking toward the mirror he kept in the corner covered with a heavy cloth. He felt his heart skip a beat that she might take notice of that, but a second later, he realized she was much to angry to care as she whipped it away. "I want my magic back, and I wanna be able to get into my own damn castle, thank you very much."

"Aw," he cooed stepping up next to her and looking in the mirror where her true face appeared. He couldn't wait to examine the crystal ball to discover the adventure she'd had. By her actions, it seemed to be a very unpleasant one. The question was, was it unpleasant enough to get the desired effects? "Told you it wouldn't be pleasant."

"You wanna hear you were right? Is that it? Huh? Well…you were right."

"Oh, I like that. Right about what?"

Regina drew a breath and stared at herself in the mirror. "They'll never love me," she admitted.

He smiled. Perfect. Just perfect. "So sad and yet so true," he confirmed. Finally he took a step away from her and summoned his magic to remove the spell. "What are you gonna do now, then?"

Regina stepped closer to the mirror, looked herself in the eyes, and sneered. It was a grin filled with malice, that should have set fear into the heart of every peasant that saw her, and brought hope to him.

"Punish them."

Perfect!

He let out another giddy laugh as he released the magic and removed the glamour from his pupil, or perhaps chess piece was a more accurate description. She was back, dressed perfectly in the outfit she'd been wearing however long ago he'd set the spell to begin with. She took a deep breath as she examined herself once more, sleek and proper, trim and sexy, a woman in power that would strike fear in the hearts of all that met her and would drive a woman to want more than to crush some hearts

"The Queen is dead," she declared, examining herself. "Long live...the Evil Queen."

He smiled, jumping up and down and clapping his hands. Now she was becoming someone that might cast a curse to destroy an entire realm. She wasn't quite there yet. In order to cast the curse, in order to pull the heart from her dear father, she had to believe there was truly no other way. She wasn't ready yet, but she was the closest she'd ever been in her ever-evolving process. The trouble was, he was not ready. Or rather, Snow White and her Prince Charming and their lovely Swan-like daughter to be were not ready. But he had the feeling they would be soon enough.

"If you'll excuse me," Regina snapped suddenly, turning on the spot and letting her cloak flare out behind her. "I have work to do…and you!" she narrowed her gaze as she stepped closer and put her finger out between them as if she were chastising a child. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay the hell away from me, or I'll make you regret not coming as you promised!"

"Oh! Testy!" he cried, truly entertained by her supposed threat. He'd taught her everything she knew, what could she possibly do to him?

"You try being a peasant for as long as I have and see how you feel about it," she drawled before smoke covered her body and she was gone. She was angry at him for keeping her a peasant for so long. If she only knew. But there were very few alive who knew that little fact about him and though Cora was one of them he doubted that witch had ever told her daughter. Regina hadn't even known how to pronounce his name when they'd first met and now look at her. Idle threat or not, it spoke volumes as to how far she had come, and he couldn't have been prouder.

He walked into the Great Room that night smiling and beaming, feeling as though he was walking on air because small as this little experiment had been, it had brought Regina to a conclusion he was waiting for. He wanted to sit down at his wheel and spin, relax in a job well done, and consider what there was left on his checklist before he saw the table and the fire and heard from somewhere close by the tinkering of china. Dinner. Belle was on her way with it.

There would be time to spin afterward.

Strong and powerful and demanding as Regina had been in her Queenly regalia, that was how soft and delicate his maid looked. He tried not to notice her as she came in, tried not to roll his eyes, but really…how could she not notice her royal frock was falling apart? How could she not care that the jewels were going missing that there was a tear at the bottom, that it was clean but stained and the bottom needed a new hem. How had she not complained to him about it yet? The incident with Robin of Locksley had taught him that she had no trouble making herself heard when she needed to. Did she not realize that she needed to say something? That it would spare him trying to figure out some way to give her something to wear without letting on that he was thinking about it?

He nearly swallowed his own tongue when she brought the tray of food over to serve him. She was up to something, there was no doubt about that. For there on the tray was not just his meal, but also a second. He held his breath as he watched her, wondering if perhaps she'd thought Regina was staying for dinner and had simply been polite, but he had a feeling it wouldn't have been something that easy. And sure enough, after she'd finished setting his place and dinner before him, she paused. He watched as she looked to the opposite side of the table, then quickly around the rest of the room. She took a breath, then another. Then removed the second plate from the tray, carried it over to the chair he kept for himself beside the fire. She planted herself down in it like she did it all the time, like she belonged there, and without a moment of hesitation, began to eat.

And there he sat. Frozen. Unable to form a thought or an argument. Unable to think of a single thing to say to her. She'd never done this before! She always ate in the kitchen by herself. Why she would just plop down and eat there, in his chair of all places?!

And why couldn't he respond? He should be angry. He should be roaring at her inappropriateness right now. He should be screaming at her to get back to the dungeons and never to do this again! But the words never came. The anger he needed for the words was drowned out in confusion and the smell of beef she'd cooked in what appeared to be some kind of gravy with mashed potatoes. Thanks to the books, it was a vast improvement on what she'd cooked before. And it did smell tempting.

He couldn't see her, not with the angle of the chair, at best he got a glimpse of her arm as she ate and the tattered remains of her gown, but he kept his eyes on her as he finally lifted his utensils and began to eat himself.

She was relieved. If the way she sighed was any indication, at least. He was…he wasn't sure how he was. Eating dinner, with Regina on her way home, his maid eating with him, in his chair…he had the silent careless thought that the day would come when Regina would cast his Curse and she'd get her punishment, but even just thinking that thought nearly had him choking on his food. It was inevitable, Belle lived in this world and was important to his son, which meant that the Curse would affect her too. But he wasn't sure how he felt about it. The spell he'd been working on recently to call all his possessions to him in the Curse only worked on objects, not on people. He couldn't be sure where she would end up or how she'd be once they were there. Though, he was prepared, one day, to offer Regina a deal to assure his own life in the new world, he supposed he could do something like that for Belle as well, make her his maid there too, or a neighbor…

He couldn't think about that now. It was still years off, and where she ended up was a need that was secondary to what she wore. It would take a wave of his hand to change her clothes, to give her something more appropriate that wasn't falling apart. But as he finished his food and moved to the wheel to spin for a bit and she continued to pick at her plate by the fire, quietly continuing to avoid his judging gaze, he realized he couldn't do that. She was already too bold, and he'd already given her more than he'd ever given any other maid he'd had. This had to be done carefully, thoughtfully.

Thoughtfully...

The Emperor he'd once convinced wore clothes of greatest quality told him that it was the clothes that made the man, when he looked at himself and Cora and even Regina it was easy to see how that was true. Who they were, what they were, all their transformations were reflected in what they wore. It was even true for peasants! But then there was Belle, the great contradiction. Was she a Princess dressed in rags? A maid dressed in a pitiful ballgown? Or something else? Neither this nor that made any sense when it came to her. She had all the power and confidence that Regina had when she was dressed in black and considering murder, but all the gentle kindness his peasant aunts had in their lowly garb. If only he could think of something that would match what she was on the inside! But somehow, as the wheel spun on and she collected their plates to leave, he doubted there ever was a garment that could match her.

I wasn't pleased with how this chapter came out. I hated that I had to take what essentially should have been two chapters and combine them. But I could not in good conscious separate these considering how small they both would have turned out. But I liked adding in his reflections on the clothing. I felt like that was a really good way to tie this chapter together.

Thank you Grace5231973, Jennifer Baratta, and MissAmande for your very kind reviews. Well...all you Moments-turned-Chronicles Readers, you might know what's coming up. All this talk about clothes certainly hasn't been for nothing. Up next, it all comes to fruition in a chapter that, I admit, is slow and reflective, but one that I really like anyway. Onward we go, Peace and Happy Reading!