Author's Notes: I do not own Once Upon A Time which is a show on ABC where they just keep adding characters when we have more pressing issues like, "Hey! What happened to Rumple?!" Does that bug anyone else? It's not a dealbreaker or anything, I'm just pointing it out. Also, using Hart Archer today who you may know from the DVD extras. Anyway, thanks for the reads and the reviews and sorry I have not gotten back to anyone, but I'm doing this half marathon a week from Sunday and I have to train. On a related note, this half is at Disney and I am not sure if I will be able to get another chapter out before I leave. We'll see, but expect a half marathon related delay of some sort. Thanks again, please let me know what you think and happy reading!


"Hello."

Beatrice looked up. It was a boy, he was in the year ahead of her. Artie. He was on the debate team and the basketball team, though she still wondered how Storybrooke had a team for everything when the only other school they could play was the convent school since no one could leave town. Then again, logic and high schoolers were never easy bedfellows.

"Artie, right?"

"That's right," he said. "Or you may know me by my other name: Arthur, King of the Britons."

This was really too good to pass up.

"King of the who?"

He looked irritated. "King of the Britons."

"King of the who?"

"King of the Britons!," he said in exasperation.

"Well, I didn't vote for you," said Beatrice.

"What?," he exclaimed.

"Not a Monty Python fan?"

"You're Merlin's new protegé."

She shrugged. "I guess. Maybe."

"You should know something. I am the once and future king."

Beatrice frowned. "Of the Britons? I think they have that covered. Charles, Wills, Harry. I mean, I think they might get down to David Tennant and Benedict Cumberbatch before they go looking for some teenager in a Coldplay t-shirt in Maine." She paused. "No. Wait, I'm sorry. David Tennant's Scottish, but there are other Doctors-"

"What are you talking about?," Artie exclaimed.

"Story of my life. Except on tumblr."

"Do you know why I'm a teenager? Merlin did this to me after Camelot fell."

Beatrice narrowed her eyes. "Are you trying to scare me?"

"Just warning you."

"My dad is the Dark One."

"Yes, I caught that. Have you met my sister?"

A senior girl with heavy makeup appeared next to Arthur.

"Oh, right, Morgan," said Beatrice. "Yeah, still betting on my dad. Look, guys, I don't get this thing people do here where we stare each other down and make thinly veiled threats, I'm not that into it and anyway, I don't think that King of the Britons thing is happening for you. If you wanted to be king, try to catch up on some of the culture." Beatrice shut her locker and walked away.

"This isn't over!," Artie shouted.

"Go to my dad for the thinly veiled threats! He's really good at that!"

Beatrice left.

"I don't understand anything she says," remarked Artie.

"Don't worry, brother," said Morgan. "I have a plan."

"Which is?"

"It involves a trip to the archer."


"Hi, Beatrice."

Beatrice stopped and turned. It was rare that she spoke to anyone, even rarer that anyone said hi to her, especially when she was on her way to her father's shop.

"Uh, Duncan, hi."

"Pretty crazy exam today, huh?"

"Physics? Yeah, I guess. Did you need help with it?"

"No, I mean, no, thanks..."

"Okay, well, see you around," said Beatrice, turning back towards the shop.

"Do you have a date for the fall formal?"

Beatrice stopped and turned again.

"What? Me?"

"Because I was thinking maybe if you didn't, you could go with me."

"Is this a joke?"

"What? No-"

"Because I just got around to reading the book of Carrie and if you guys dump pig blood on me, I literally do not know what will happen. For real. I don't know."

"What? It's not a joke."

Beatrice pointed at the shop sign. "You know Mr. Gold is my dad, right? Also known as Rumplestiltskin, also known as the Dark One, the... no, that's everything, but really, he does this thing with a fireball and it's not good. It's good if you're fighting zombies, but I can't really imagine another instance where it would be good. Camping, maybe."

"So, you don't want to go?"

"I don't know..."

Belle peered out the shop window, hiding behind a grandfather clock in the window display, completely watching what was happening.

"Belle!," Gold called from the backroom. "Maybe you should call her!"

"I'm sure she's fine, Rumple," said Belle as she watched Beatrice talk.

"This is unlike her. She said she would be here."

"Well, you know, Rumple, she might have found something that interested her..." Belle said, turning her attention back outside.

"I just want to be clear," said Beatrice. "You are asking to go on a date with me?"

"Yes."

"I could be crazy. My father may turn you into a flower."

"Well, I'd like to avoid that..." said Duncan.

Beatrice's phone buzzed. "Sorry," she said to Duncan. She picked it up and saw a text from her mother.

She darted her eyes back at the shop window and Belle hid from view.

Beatrice rolled her eyes. She looked back to Duncan.

"Okay, here's the deal," said Beatrice, "I will go, but it's strictly on a friendship at best level."

"Okay..."

"We will go to the dance and maybe coffee or something. You will try nothing because I am not going to be responsible for your death, maiming or possible transformation..."

"What's this?," Gold asked.

Belle nearly jumped. "Where did you come from?"

Gold pointed at Beatrice and Duncan outside. He would not be distracted. "What's this?," he repeated.

"I guess he and Beatrice are just talking."

"And how long have they been talking?"

"Do you know him?"

"I know his father was a farmer and he delivers papers. I know he should probably stop talking to my daughter-"

"Oh, Rumple..." Belle said with exasperation.

The bell rang as Beatrice came through the door.

"Okay, how long were you both watching?"

"How long should we have been watching?," asked Gold.

Beatrice pointed at Belle."Blame her. I have a date. What do I have a date for?"

"A date?," asked Gold.

"Where are you going?," Belle asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

"The fall formal. I'm going to a dance. Are you happy?"

Gold looked at Belle. "You are happy," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "What are you happy for?"

"I think it might be good for her to get out and do things that other girls her age do," said Belle. She looked at Gold. "And so do you."

"No, no, I don't," he said.

Belle looked back at Beatrice. "You will need a dress. When is this dance?"

"Friday."

"Friday!," Belle exclaimed. "We should go look now."

"No, you really shouldn't," said Gold.

"It's already Wednesday, Rumple," said Belle. She looked at Beatrice. "Come on."

She was already ushering Beatrice out when

Gold called after them. "I never gave my permission!"

"Okay!," said Belle.


"Rumple..."

Rumplestiltskin looked past the spinning wheel to see that Belle had entered the room. She came and stood beside him.

"What are you doing up?," she asked softly.

"Nothing," he answered. "Go back to bed."

"I don't like the idea of you alone here in the dark," said Belle.

He scoffed. "I'm fine."

"I know, but I still don't like it," Belle protested.

Rumplestiltskin smiled slightly. "Oh, Belle, I've endured more loneliness than this."

"I'll get a book," said Belle.

"My darling Belle, there's really no need."

"Do you want me to be in bed alone?"

"You were asleep," he argued.

"Come back to bed," Belle insisted. "I'll make it worth your time."

She smiled at him, he involuntarily smiled back.

Then there was a knock at the door.

"Who is that?," Belle asked.

"Go back to bed, Belle," said Rumplestiltskin.


Gold tried to busy himself at the shop on the day of the dance. The dance. Belle wouldn't talk about anything else, fussing over every detail, hearing none of his well-reasoned arguments. So he went to the shop and cleaned and restored and did the books and thought of new ways he could destroy Duncan if he laid a finger on Beatrice. He was still trying to work out how to keep it from Belle and was leaning towards cursing the boy so it was as if he never existed, which was an option.

A distraction arrived in the form of the doorbell ringing. He looked up at Emma as she strode in.

"Okay, Gold, do you have it?"

Gold frowned at Emma. "Is it all that much trouble to ask for a greeting?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Hi, Gold. Do you have it?"

"Well, I can hardly say if I do, if I don't have any idea what 'it' refers to, can I?," asked Gold.

"Hart Archer came to me. The guy from Good Morning Storybrooke?"

"I know him better than you, dearie."

"His house got broken into. He's missing some arrows."

"So naturally you thought of me."

Emma nodded.

"What would I need Cupid's arrows for?"

"What would you need any of the stuff you have for?," asked Emma.

"If those arrows were good for anything, I would have them. Lust I can concoct on my own."

Emma frowned. "Can't they make you fall in love?"

"There's a difference between thinking you're in love and being in love. Take my son for instance. He thinks he's in love with Tamara-"

"Could we not?," asked Emma.

"You came here, dearie. Now-"

"I hear Beatrice has a date," Emma shot back.

"How do you know that?"

"Belle told Mary Margaret."

"And now the entire town knows my daughter's personal business."

Emma snorted. "Please. The entire town already knows everything about Beatrice. They don't watch anyone closer, even when she's not driving." Emma waited as Gold went back to his books. "So, do you like the kid?"

"No."

"I always thought he was sweet, maybe a little dopey-"

"There's problem number one..."

"What? Okay, he's not a genius..."

"And Beatrice is a brilliant girl. Anyone less intelligent will bore her."

"It's just a dance, Gold."

"Exactly. It's pointless."

"Wow, you're fun," said Emma.


"Rumple!," Belle hissed following him to the entry way of the Dark Castle.

"I told you to go back upstairs," said Rumplestiltskin as she quickened her pace to follow him.

"It's the middle of the night," said Belle. "Who would dare come up here in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly what I intend to find out, sweetheart," he answered. He turned back to her and cupped her face with his hand. "Now, please go upstairs."

Belle nodded and went up the staircase. Rumplestiltskin turned towards the doors and waved his hand to open them.

A man stumbled through. Nice clothes, velvet, not the sort of unannounced guest he was used to. Most of the peasants who were desperate enough to venture to the Dark Castle in the dead of night barely had the clothes on their backs.

"Dark One," he said, bowing his head.

"Yes, yes, dearie, what can I do for you?"

"I am Harold. My daughter, Enid, she's only eight and she's ill..." he stammered. "No medicine can help her, the clerics' prayers to the gods have failed and she's dying..."

Thank the gods Belle hadn't heard this, she would have already-

"Rumple."

Exasperated, Rumplestiltskin turned to see Belle back down the stairs.

"Yes, Belle?"

"Aren't you going to help him?"

"We were just getting to that part, where he tells me why I should help him-"

"I'll pay," said Belle.

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. "You can't do this every time. I would already have your eternal servitude a dozen times over if I wanted it."

"I had no idea I was worth so little," said Belle.

"Don't try to get clever with me-"

"I don't mind paying, my lady," said Harold. "Enid is all I have. She's worth everything to me."

Rumplestiltskin turned to the man. "Then you have a payment in mind, dearie?"

"Yes, see, I keep the clerics' library," he said. "I lock away their forbidden books of dark magic. I would gladly let you take whatever you need in exchange for my daughter's help."

"Well," said Rumplestiltskin, "you are unusual, aren't you? I almost forget what it's like to deal with intelligent people, it happens so rarely."

He caught Belle's glare.

"Present company excepted, of course," he added.

He paused as the man stared back at him.

"The deal is struck."


Gold arrived home to a strange sight.

Belle was cooking.

"What are you doing?," he asked.

"I thought I would get dinner done early," said Belle. "That way Beatrice can eat before she leaves."

Gold rolled his eyes.

"I saw that," Belle warned as she stirred the tomato sauce. "She's nervous, you know. This whole thing terrifies her."

Gold remained silent.

"I wish you could at least pretend to be supportive," said Belle.

"Am I not?"

Belle ignored him. "No one has ever asked her to anything like this. You know what it's like for her. Maybe things are finally changing for her."

"Mom!," Beatrice shouted.

"Coming!," Belle called back, turning off the heat on the stove.


The skirt was ripped.

Beatrice was starting to panic.

It was a sign. She wasn't supposed to go, this was a stupid idea, she didn't belong at a dance anyway. Belle had been so pleased with the choice: a purple bodice with a sweetheart neckline and a beaded purple skirt. It was pain enough selecting it with everyone in the store staring.

"Rumple!," Belle called.

"What? He's not going to help! This was a stupid idea, anyway, why did you make me do this?!," Beatrice shrieked.

"What seems to be the matter?," asked Gold.

Belle held up the piece of skirt with the ripped hem. "I don't know what happened."

Gold came over and examined it. "I can fix it."

"I don't see a magic wand," Beatrice muttered.

"Don't be silly," said Gold.

Beatrice paused. "Wait, you sew? You sew things?"

"Of course he does," said Belle. "Your papa is a man of many talents."

"Belle, could you get my sewing kit?"

"You have a sewing kit?," asked Beatrice.

Belle quickly returned with the item. Gold took out a pincushion.

"Ow!," said Beatrice as a pin stabbed her.

"Sorry," said Gold.

"What are you doing?"

"This dress doesn't fit you," said Gold.

"I put it on in the store, it went on," said Beatrice.

"The bodice is too loose and the skirt you just ripped is slightly too long for your height." He looked up at Belle. "Which your mother knew I wouldn't be able to stand."

Belle feigned an innocent expression.

"You bought me an ugly dress?," Beatrice asked in disbelief.

"It is not ugly," said Belle. "I just knew your papa could make it better."

"Because you are too pretty a girl to wear a dress that doesn't fit you," said Gold, putting in the last pin. "Alright, your mother will help you out of it and I can finish it."

"Duncan said he would be here in like two hours," said Beatrice.

"He can wait," said Gold.

"We can do your hair," said Belle.

"Great, we'll do whatever magical princess thing you do with your hair," said Beatrice.

Belle frowned. "What magical princess thing?"


The library was empty of the clerics. No one dared come down to the vault where the books of Dark Magic were locked away.

"I think you wanted to help him," Belle whispered.

Rumplestiltskin looked up from the bookshelf. There was no stopping Belle from accompanying him on this trip as it contained two things she had great affection for: a selfless man willing to sacrifice all and a library. She had forced him into healing the child before they even went and now she stood at his side.

"Wouldn't you like to look at some of the other sections?," asked Rumplestiltskin. "I'm fairly certain we can take whatever we like."

"That's just it, though," said Belle. "This vault isn't protected by any magic. You could have come in whenever you liked if you wanted something. You felt sorry for him."

"He was desperate," said Rumplestiltskin. "It's good for business."

"I know you. You sympathize with anyone wanting to protect their child."

"Belle..."

"That's why you missed Robin Hood."

He looked back at her.

"Why do you insist on goading the beast?"

She leaned closer. "Because you're not a beast," she whispered.

"Harold!," he called for the librarian.

The man returned. "Yes, Dark One?"

"There's something missing here," he said.

"What? No-"

"Don't toy with me, dearie."

"Harold wouldn't do that," said Belle.

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. "There's a volume here. It's missing."

"Oh, you mean 'The Book of the Dark Princess.'"

"The what?," asked Rumplestiltskin.

"It exists only in legend," said Harold.

Belle frowned. "You have a spot on the shelf for a book that only exists in legend?"

"The monks believe it exists, that it came from the very first of the gods," said Harold. "I've gathered everything about it, what's been said, whispered, written."

"And what do they say of this Dark Princess?," Rumplestiltskin asked skeptically.

"There are many tales," said Harold. "She is thought to be powerful in all things, some say she is the end of the world."

"Do you believe that?," asked Belle.

"I believe in reason, my lady," said Harold.

Rumplestiltskin snorted as he looked at the monks' library. "Odd profession you've chosen then."

"There is one fact of the Dark Princess that is known for certain which makes me doubt all this," said Harold.

"Which is?," asked Belle.

"That she has not yet been born," said Harold.

"How do you have a book about someone who hasn't been born?," asked Belle.

"Precisely, my lady," said Harold.

"I think we're about done here," said Rumplestiltskin waving his hand. Various books vanished from the shelves. "We'll be off."

Belle looked at Harold. "Won't you get in trouble for the missing books?"

"Come along, Belle," Rumplestiltskin grumbled, taking her by the arm as he strode out.

"I just want to see that he's alright," said Belle as they walked towards the carriage.

"You can write him," Rumplestiltskin muttered as he helped Belle inside.


Gold opened the door. There stood Duncan, the farm hand turned paper boy turned the fool that had dared ask his daughter to a dance.

"Uh, hi," Duncan stammered. "I'm here to pick up Beatrice."

Gold stood aside and the young man didn't move.

"She's in here and she's not going anywhere if you don't come in here, so make up your mind, dearie."

Duncan timidly came inside and Gold let the door slam behind him, making him jump just an inch.

"So, Duncan, have you had many girlfriends?"

"Uh, a couple."

Gold frowned. "Is my daughter merely another one of your conquests then?"

"Uh, no."

"Can you answer a question without saying 'uh?' You see, that suggests that you're thinking of the answer."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gold. I- I guess I'm just nervous."

"As well you should be," said Gold. "She's to be back at eleven in exactly the same condition as she is leaving this house. If I find that she is not, well... that wouldn't be good for you. Do you understand?"

"Rumple! We're coming down!," Belle shouted before Duncan could answer.

"And she won't be able to help you," Gold added in an even lower voice.

Belle came down, quickly followed by Beatrice.

Gold really wished he hadn't altered that dress. He was struck not for the first time with how like Belle his daughter looked, though it did finally occur to him for the first time that Beatrice was just two years younger than Belle had been when he met her.

He didn't think any good could possibly come of that.

"Do you have anything planned beside the dance?," Belle asked.

"They're back at eleven," Gold answered.

"Yes, Mr. Gold," said Duncan.

"We should be going," said Beatrice.

"Let me get a picture," Belle pleaded.

"Definitely going. Come on, Duncan."

They were gone and Gold was left standing there.

"He seems nice," Belle remarked.

"What the hell just happened?," asked Gold.

Belle smiled and wrapped her arms around him. "Don't worry, Rumple. She's coming back."


The hush.

Beatrice was used to it.

"What happened?," asked Duncan.

"I walked in," said Beatrice. He looked at her inquisitively. "That's what happens when I walk in places."

The room was staring. Curious at who had actually asked Beatrice out, curious still that he was not an insect.

She caught the amused glances of Artie and Morgan. They weren't the only ones staring, but there was something different about their stares.

"Want to dance?," Duncan squeaked out.

"Not really," said Beatrice, reluctantly holding her hand out.


Gold looked out the window.

"Rumple," Belle sighed, "it's nine. You said eleven. You can't stare out the window for two more hours."

"I wouldn't have too if you hadn't encouraged her to accept this young man's proposal."

Belle laughed. "They're just going to a high school dance, not getting married."

"You let her go out with a farm hand."

"He asked!"

"Well, in the future, let's see if we can be more discerning than that."

"I thought it was discerning. He had the courage to ask," said Belle.

"Gall is more like it."

"Instead of staring out the window, can you think of anything else we could do for two hours?"

Gold looked to Belle. "How can you think of that at a time like this?"

She smiled. "Come upstairs and I will show you."

Gold was sorely tempted, but all thoughts were interrupted by a ring of the doorbell.

He opened it to find Emma and Mr. Archer.

"What is it this time, Sheriff?"

"Where's Beatrice?"

Gold frowned. Belle sided up next to him. "Why?," she asked.

Emma looked to Hart and back. "Someone stole one of Cupid's arrows..."

"I don't have it," said Gold. "I thought we cleared that up."

"You don't think Beatrice..."

"No," said Emma. "Where is she?"

"The high school formal," said Belle. She watched as Gold grabbed his coat and keys, then quickly followed suit as they walked down the steps and to the car. "What is going on?"

"I just saw Duncan," Hart explained. "He's under the effects of the arrow."

"Yeah, it gets better. Hart says it's about to wear off," said Emma.

"Oh, gods," said Belle, hurrying to the car.


The dances at her prep school were held in the ballroom of some fancy hotel usually. Beatrice had never been to those and was now thinking they had to be a little better than Storybrooke High's gym decorated in fake autumn leaves and glitter-covered banners. Why was it always the glitter?

The others had been surprised to see her, but had not said anything. Beatrice was still surprised to be here.

And dancing. Why was she dancing?

"So," said Beatrice, "do you watch anything on TV?"

"Hockey," said Duncan.

"Oh," said Beatrice. "What about Doctor Who?"

Duncan paused. "Is that the show about the phone booth?"

This probably wasn't going to work.

Beatrice looked up to see Gold coming in.

"Dad-"

Before she could finish a question, Gold had pulled her aside and taken her hand.

"You're leaving. Now," said Gold.

"But you said-"

"Where's your coat?," asked Gold.

"Mr. Gold-" Duncan began to object.

"You. Shut up," Gold instructed.

"Dad, you said-"

Gold leaned forward and whispered. "If you have ever trusted me about anything, you will leave now."

They now had the full attention of the entire dance, clearly waiting for someone to turn into a snail. Beatrice did manage to catch the amused glances of Artie and Morgan.

"Sorry, Duncan," said Beatrice.

"Don't apologize to him," Gold added distastefully. "Come along, sweetheart."


From the gym to the parking lot, Beatrice fumed, finally bursting as they hit cold air.

"What is your problem?!," Beatrice shouted.

Gold let go of her arm. "You didn't answer your phone."

"It was in my coat!" They got outside and she looked up to see her mom, Emma and Hart.

"What's going on?," she asked.

"Someone stole from Mr. Archer," said Gold.

"What?" She looked over at him.

"Yes, sorry about that. I didn't realize it until I saw Duncan with you," said Hart.

"So the only way someone could like me is if they were under a spell from a magic arrow?," asked Beatrice. "Thanks!"

"No, no," Hart said, trying to back pedal. "You're very cute, especially since you ditched the glasses."

"Okay, maybe you want to watch what you say about the sixteen year old," warned Emma.

"Yes," Gold added.

"I should be going," said Hart.

"Yeah," said Gold.

Hart hurried off.

Emma looked at Beatrice. "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm enjoying this new level of humiliation in my life," said Beatrice. "Now I'm dressed up and humiliated. This is just great. Where's the car?"


"Beatrice?," Belle asked.

She walked in the room. Beatrice was in the process of disassembling her carefully crafted look for the dance.

"Did you have fun at least, while it lasted?," asked Belle.

Beatrice didn't answer.

"This wasn't my fault. The least you could do is not be angry with me-"

Beatrice spun around. "Not your fault? How do you suppose that? You told me to say yes, you dressed me up and did my hair and sent me out there to look like an idiot!" She shook her head. "I need to stop listening to you."

Belle collected herself. "Alright. Duncan wasn't the one. I never thought he was. The point was for you to be out there, with people. You'll be alone forever if you don't let people in."

"I will be alone forever no matter what I do."

"No, of course you won't."

Beatrice sat on the bed. Belle carefully sat next to her and ran her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Somewhere out there is a boy who has no idea how dull his life is because you haven't walked into it yet."

"I don't think so."

"And why not?," Belle demanded.

Beatrice scoffed. "Fourteen generations of True Love. You don't think the luck's run out?"

"It's not luck," said Belle. "It's destiny."


Rumplestiltskin couldn't believe it. Belle took the letter from the bird with a smile.

"You actually wrote him," he said as the bird delivering Harold's letter flew away.

"You said I could," Belle said plaintively, opening the envelope.

"That's not what I meant," said Rumplestiltskin, sitting back in his chair.

"Then you ought to have chosen your words more carefully," she said.

Belle sat on the arm of his chair. "Enid's doing well," said Belle.

"Oh, good," he said flatly.

"You're pleased and you know it," said Belle.

"Why did you write Harold?"

"I asked him more about that book," said Belle. "I think he thought it was you asking so he's sent me copies of everything."

"The Dark Princess? Why would I be interested?"

"You are the Dark One."

"And yet I know no Dark Princess. "Besides, if she hasn't been born by now, I wouldn't be worried."

"I'm not worried," said Belle. "I'm just curious."

"What for?"

"It's a book about someone who hasn't been born yet," said Belle. "How is anyone not curious? How can the monks be so concerned about someone who hasn't done anything yet?"

"Don't look to the monks for reason, darling Belle."

Belle moved from the armrest into his lap, curling against his chest.

"You're just going to sit there to read that?," he asked.

"Do you mind?," asked Belle.

He didn't answer.

"Other noble ladies don't have this annoying curiosity," said Rumplestiltskin. "They have hobbies. Gardening, weaving..."

"This is my hobby," Belle protested. "Besides, noble ladies don't have hobbies, they have children."

She saw him recoil.

"Was there something in there to help you find Bae?," she asked.

"We shall see," he answered quietly.