V

The Depths of Despair

Belle didn't know how long she sat there, wallowing in self-pity and a deluge of tears, but finally she pulled herself up and concentrated on her master's dinner. It wouldn't do anyone any good to have him become suspicious of her until she could find some way out of the mess she'd found herself in. She stirred the gravy, put the potatoes on to boil for a nice mash and set about shelling peas, unable to quell the trembling of her hands, but not allowing it to deter her. Perhaps she would be able to serve Rumpelstiltskin's dinner and slip back out of the hall before she drew too much notice to herself. Not that such a thing would be easy as attentive as he'd been of late.

The thought of that woman controlling the Dark One was enough to chill her to the very marrow of her bones. Despite what she'd been commanded to do, she couldn't allow Regina to get her hands on Rumpelstiltskin's dagger. She could feel the queen's compulsion to the very depths of her soul, the magic humming just beneath her skin which prickled painfully the longer she tried to resist. She wished she could go to her master and ask him why it was possible for the queen to control her simply because she possessed her heart. There might be a book in her library which might explain it to her, a book which might tell her how she might break the spell. Surely, there must be something in the Dark Castle to help her. Books had never failed her before, and she'd never come across a library more extensive than the one Rumpelstiltskin had given her.

Belle was certain of one thing … she could not betray him. He meant too much to her. What she felt might not yet be love, but she wouldn't hurt him and lose what may be her one chance at happiness. And if she somehow lost herself to the queen's malice, but was able to save him, it was a risk she was more than willing to take.

"You're late!" he barked, nearly startling the tray from her hands as she entered the hall several hours later to serve him. "Dinner is to be served precisely at six and it is –" He tapped the gold pocket watch resting in his clawed hand, a wry smirk upon his lips, casting his gaze upward to meet hers. His brows drew together, low and menacing over his amber eyes. "What's wrong?"

Belle set the tray upon the table and removed his plate from it, setting it before him. She kept her gaze fixed upon her task, knowing it would be foolhardy to allow him to see her red-rimmed puffy eyes up close. "Naught is the matter, Master," she said softly, praying to keep the quaver from her voice. She placed a tankard of mead next to his plate and shook out a fine linen napkin to lay over his lap. "I'm simply tired and there's still much work to be done before I retire for the evening."

Rumpelstiltskin tossed the napkin onto the table, practically leaping from his seat to catch her hand before she could flee. He pulled her back to stand before him, his fingers gripping her chin gently but firmly to stop her from eluding his gaze. His eyes narrowed suspiciously on her. "You've been weeping, dearie. Tell me what is amiss," he demanded. "That is not a request, Belle, but an order."

She had to dig deep to find the courage in which she prided herself. It seemed to have deserted her, the trembling of her lower lip testament to the fact. "It's nothing … I promise," she lied. "Don't worry about me, Master. Your dinner will go cold."

"To hell with my dinner," he growled. He released her chin, his fingers trailing over the smooth pale skin of her arm until they cupped her elbow. She winced as he touched the bruise he'd left earlier. "Is it because of the scene I made in the library? Belle …"

"N-No … of course not."

She felt the magic radiating from his hand as it snaked its way beneath her skin to heal her. "I didn't mean to hurt you, dearie," he said lowly, his voice a caress to her battered senses. It was all she could do to stem the tears which threatened once more. "Regina … she can't know … I mean … " He ground his teeth together as he searched for the right words, his tongue a twisted enemy in his mouth. "She will use you against me at the first opportunity. I couldn't allow her to see how easy it would be."

"I would not betray you, Rumpel."

"She wouldn't give you a choice."

Belle bit her lip, wishing she'd been warned beforehand. She startled a bit as he held onto her, pulling her toward a chair he conjured for her.

"Here, dearie. Sit and join me for dinner this evening. I could do with the company," he told her, the skin over his sharp cheekbones seeming to glow a darker shade of gold.

"I-I didn't prepare another plate, Master," she protested despite the futility of the gesture. He'd never been one to take no for an answer.

With a wave of his spell clever hand, another plate appeared before her. "After dinner, we can retire to the library," he mumbled casually as if it were of no importance. "I think I'd like for you to read to me while I spin. Yes … yes that will do nicely."

Belle placed her napkin atop her lap and mustered up a faint smile for him. Her fork felt cold in her hand and the thought of putting food in her mouth, the effort it would take to chew and swallow, made her stomach roil. But she knew she'd have to try if for nothing more than to keep up the appearance that everything was normal. Any other time, she would have been alight with excitement knowing he wanted to spend time with her. Now all she felt was the cold hand of dread.

"As you wish, Master."