This day again.
He would have thought that it would get better, year after year, but it never did. He would have thought that his day of mourning would come on the day that he lost his son, not the day he'd been born. And yet, year after year, he did this. Year after year, this dreadful day struck. Year after year, he lay in his bed the night before preparing himself, telling himself it wouldn't matter. He was ready for it. The day wouldn't hit as hard as it had the year before.
And then the sun rose.
And it hit hard.
On this day, Baelfire was turning one hundred and twenty-one. Not an impossible age for someone in this realm, but one that was unachieved by most except the magical; himself, for example. One hundred and twenty-one…knowing Bae's genetics, his disgust with magic, he should have given up on ever seeing his son alive again half a century ago. And yet here he was, sitting in his tower, replaying the Seer's Prophecy over and over and over again in his mind like holy scripture. She hadn't been wrong yet. And everything that he'd seen suggested that everything she'd said about his future was going to come to pass. He believed in the prophecy he carried around in his head, truly he did. But some days, like today, it was hard to fathom.
One hundred and twenty-one…
The Curse was, at least, another couple of years from being cast. Most days that gave him hope. In his lifetime, he'd watched the time he had until the Curse hit shrink from centuries to decades and now into numbers that were only single digits! But today all he could think was that it meant that when the Curse was cast Baelfire would be at least one hundred and twenty-three. What had the Seer said? Twenty-eight. After the Curse was cast, the Savior would return to set them free on her twenty-eighth birthday. That meant that Baelfire would be over one hundred and fifty when she returned, and that wasn't counting in any time it would take for her to actually break the Curse!
One hundred and twenty-one seemed impossible for Baelfire. One hundred and fifty seemed…a dream.
But the Seer said it wasn't impossible. If the Seer said it, then it was as good as fact! It was just hard to remember when another birthday came around, and he stopped to consider all that might have happened in the last year that he'd missed. Where was his son? What was he doing? What did he look like? Did time work in the World Without Magic as it did here or was it slower? Was that how he was still alive? Or were they so advanced that perhaps living until two hundred was normal in a place like that?
Those were the questions that filled his mind. All day long, from the moment he'd risen until evening. He'd spent the entire day in his tower. He spun mostly, unable to bring himself to work, he'd tried to lose himself in his wheel. He tried not to think. He tried to forget, to pour every thought he had into the wheel and let himself believe it was just another day. He was unsuccessful.
On more than one occasion he'd gotten up to pace and found that he had to keep himself from wandering off to look for Belle. He could use her, at the moment. Her knack for conversation just might be the one thing that could keep his mind off of what a terrible day it was. But the problem was that she was intuitive. He didn't like to admit it, but she had the ability to look at his face and know something wasn't going according to plan. The next thing he knew she was asking about what was wrong and usually he had the strength to tell her it was nothing and leave or else ignore her altogether. He wasn't sure he had that ability today. He wasn't sure if she asked him what was wrong, he wouldn't like to sit by her side somewhere comfortable, like her library, confess his history to her, the truth of it all, and let her console him. He knew she would. She was kind. And caring. And loving. And smart. There were times that he felt like she already knew. How she knew, he couldn't tell. But she'd already guessed once that he had a family, and that something had happened to them. If he struggled, if he broke down before her, cried a single tear, she'd put her arms around him, and he couldn't trust what he might do if she did that. He'd been married before, and he'd had Margery...he knew that there were other things the body could do to distract the mind. Shameful as it was he didn't think he would want to stop it from happening if they started down a path like that.
So he stayed out of sight. He kept himself at a distance, refused breakfast and tea, and even dinner. He let himself be assaulted with memory after memory of his Baelfire, with unanswered question after unanswered question. He let himself sit for a while and tried to force a vision, just as he did every year, for something in the future, something that he could hold onto for just a couple more years.
But nothing ever came. And by nighttime, he found himself doing what he always did every year on Baelfire's birthday. He pulled out an old shawl that he had enchanted just after Baelfire left so that it would hold onto his boy's scent forever; that was why it lived up in his tower and not down in Baelfire's old room. He laid it out on his table and found a candle that he only ever lit for this moment, year after year. It wasn't the same as blowing out the candles on a birthday cake he'd never been able to afford. But it was something.
"Too many years to count, Bae. But I've counted every one," he muttered before blowing out the wick he used to light the candle.
He should have smelled burning and smoke from the wick. But at that moment, he suddenly smelled…roses?
He turned in the direction of the stairs, the direction of the smell. She stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark, the blue dress he'd given her always seemed to glow in the dark and her pale skin didn't help. She looked like an angel. Even if she did look surprised. He should be the surprised one. She was the one than intruded and yet she looked shocked?!
"I-I-I'm sorry," she sputtered, rocking back on her heels. "I didn't know you were in here."
She offered a small awkward smile, one that probably would have made him smile on any other day, but this one just hurt to look at. He wasn't in the mood. And he didn't need her here.
"Go away," he ordered without half the vigor he'd wanted it to have. His head told him that she had to go, but something else inside of him said the opposite. What did he have to do to convince himself?
She swallowed and blushed at him, then glanced down to a basket that she held in her hands. "I'll, uh, I'll just put these flowers down."
Flowers. Roses. The basket was full of roses. That was what he'd smelled. Just yesterday they'd had a conversation about roses. They were her favorites. He'd told her all the reasons that he loved them as well though his intentions for them were magical, something far less than innocent. Was that why she had them now; why she was bringing them up to him? As an offering of some kind? What did it matter? The closer she got to him, the more he could smell them and her, and more importantly, the less he could smell Bae.
"Go away!" he finally insisted firmly enough to make her pause. He shook his head in frustration, licked is his fingers, and reached out to douse the candle before she could get any more hints. But the moment he moved to put the candle away he realized that perhaps he shouldn't have, perhaps he should have just let her set the flowers down and go because the second he yelled at her he saw her curiosity flare. He could practically feel her brain working as she widened her senses and took in the scene around her. Candle, shawl, his aggressiveness…fuck, why did she have to be so damn smart?!
"I'm, uh…I'm so sorry…" she apologized, her eyes suddenly wide. "It was a remembrance, wasn't it?"
Was that what this was? Was that what it was called? He genuinely had no idea. "A Remembrance"…it sounded so formal. It sounded planned and wanted. All he knew was that lighting this candle every year had become a tradition he didn't want, a tradition that he dreaded.
"How old would he be?"
One hundred and twenty-one.
"No, he's not dead," he snapped at Belle, understanding the implication of her words. "Would be" was subjective, a wish. But there was nothing subjective about it. It was definitive. Baelfire was one hundred and twenty-one. And one day, he would see him again. Even if it meant he was over one hundred and fifty. "He's just lost."
"Lost?" she questioned with sympathetic curiosity. She wanted to know, not for herself, but for him.
That was what he was afraid of, the reason that he hadn't sought out her company today. He was a broken being, but that didn't mean that he wanted her to look at him like one. He reached out and touched the shawl that lay between them on the table, rustling it just so that his son's scent could permeate the air in the tower once more. Oh, he missed that smell more than any other smell in the entire world!
"Today is his birthday," he whispered, giving into exactly what he'd been afraid he might if she joined him. "I should be with him, celebrating. We had a chance to be happy together, and I was afraid."
He glanced up at her then, wondering what he'd see, wondering what she would see. He didn't want her to look at him like he was some kind of injured puppy, not when he was the Dark One, but at the moment, he didn't know how he wanted her to look at him.
Not like she was looking at him now.
"Maybe it's not too late."
"I hope not…"
Understanding. He didn't want her to understand. He didn't want to connect with her. He didn't want his fantasies to be visions and for his future to point to her! He just wanted to be on his own. That was what he deserved until he found Baelfire. After that…
Villains didn't get happy endings. The boy that would lead him to Baelfire would be his undoing. He just wanted to spend whatever time he had left with his son.
"No…my ending shall not be a happy one," he muttered, pushing himself away from the table. He needed to spin. He needed to do something other than what he was doing. He needed her to take her roses and go so that he could work. Whether he had one minute or one decade with Baelfire after he found him, it would be worth all of this, just to look into his son's eyes as he died.
"Well, you know, I, uh…I always thought the idea of a happy ending was greatly exaggerated," Belle muttered behind him.
Her words stopped him, but he refused to turn and look at her face. He didn't want her comfort. He didn't deserve it. But he was curious about what she was talking about.
"What do you mean?"
"I've never understood why people call them 'happy endings'. Happy or not an ending is final. It's the end. How could an ending ever be happy? It's the story, the journey taken, that's always far more interesting, far happier, than any ending I've ever heard of."
He didn't know what to say to that. A beautiful woman, a good woman, who hated the idea of happy endings? The idea was preposterous, even for a woman who was unlike any other he'd ever met. Who didn't want a happy ending? Perhaps someone who had never had to worry about having one.
"You read too many books," he dismissed as he sat back down at his wheel with his back to her. With any luck, she'd take the hint and leave.
"Do you need anything?" she asked kindly. "Tea? Dinner?"
"No. Nothing."
He heard her footsteps behind him, heading for the stairs and was ready to breathe his sigh of relief when she left, but instead of hearing her steps fade on the stairs, they stopped. She paused at the top, and he was just about to summon the courage to ask her to leave again when he heard her footsteps again. But this time, instead of leaving, they walked deeper into his tower. He watched over his shoulder, glancing at her sideways as she pulled the candle free from its hiding place. She grabbed another one that he had burning and used a bit of wood to set the candle blazing once more. Then he watched as she bent over, pulled one of the roses she'd brought for him out and laid it delicately atop Baelfire's shawl. And then, without another word, she left him to his memories.
Pretty straight forward scene. We saw it in 3x11. It's been a few years since I edited this section in Moments and played around with the timeline but I believe I ended up putting it here, in the middle of the Belle going to town drama, because it helped that period to feel a little bit more established. Like her going to the market was such a commonplace thing it didn't even warrant discussion anymore. And, frankly, so that it wouldn't feel like she was give then responsibility and immediately she was taken advantage of so it was taken away. This scene here just sort of broke things up nicely in their story and gave them this nice piece of peace.
Thank you Alarda and Grace5231973 for your comments on the last chapter. I'm happy you are so far enjoying these Rumbelle Moments, this chapter is a good one to remind you to really savor them while you've got them. I really do love this scene, and this chapter. It was interesting writing it from Belle's perspective, but I think I like it better from his perspective. It allows us to get into his head a little bit more and that's really important. I want us to see him on his good days, but I think the darkness needs to be acknowledged too. Peace and Happy Reading!