Chapter 3

Saving Belle

Dark Castle- dusty chambers, potent magic, a lone spinning wheel... home. Rumpelstiltskin felt exultant coming home to his dark castle: to stretch his legs in its vastness, feel his power unfettered, contemplate revenge and other delightful possibilities that had been suppressed for so long.

But personal desires, as pleasurable as their execution may be, would have to wait. Belle lay on the great room hearth rug, still unconscious, burning with magical residue. The electric blue outline was slowly fading leaving a pale disheveled woman behind.

Clever woman to know that her power would leave her weak and defenseless after saving him, and to provide for that eventuality. According to the contract, Rumpelstiltskin had agreed to personally nurse her back to health. So no deals for a caretaker or nursemaid. No clever rearranging of the wording. No getting around the facts that with his own two hands, and his magic, Rumpelstiltskin was obligated to be nursemaid to the woman that had rescued him.

Rumpelstiltskin knelt at Belle's side to examine her carefully. Auburn strands splayed across the hearth rug, in sharp contrast to the pale skin, red lips slightly parted, compelling blue eyes now hidden in repose. It was wrong she should seem so helpless now when her spirit had blazed so brightly in his prison tower.

Brave or foolish, cursed or powerful, breath-taking or infuriating. Which was she? Perhaps a little bit of all of these.

Rumpelstiltskin slid an arm under Belle's knees, another behind her back to raise her up and she roused fitfully.

"Did... did it work? Are you free now, Rumpelstiltskin?" she asked, drowsily.

"Yes, Belle, it worked," he conceded. "You saved me."

Belle wrapped an arm around his neck. "That's good," she murmured and fell asleep against his shoulder.

Standing up with Belle now nestled in his arms Rumpelstiltskin cast his mind to the cavern deep below his castle and the two vanished from the hearth side...

… and reappeared in a vast dark chamber deep underground. The slow drip of mineral-rich water forming stalactites was the only sound in the darkness, and the only light emanated from a flaming blue whirlpool sunken in the floor of the cave.

Existing long before Rumpelstiltskin occupied the castle, this whirlpool was believed to be mere legend until he had discovered it while exploring his new residence. Many had searched for this restorative pool, calling it the Waters of Life or more colloquially, the Fountain of Youth. Rumpelstiltskin doubted that it really granted eternal youth but he was sure it did cure magical maladies and into it he would have to carry Belle as it was his turn now to save her life.

Maneuvering carefully down the rough stone stairway Rumpelstiltskin reached the edge of the waters and followed the steps into the vortex. The room pitched and a tingling fire spread across his body.

Rumpelstiltskin advanced deeper into the pool, immersing Belle up to her neck in the fiery liquid. Belle grimaced and shook her head without waking, slipping in his grasp and Rumpelstiltskin was forced to lower her feet to the bottom of the pit, holding her tightly against his body, her fevered cheek pressed against his neck. Resting against the cool side of the pool supporting Belle, he waited for the waters to complete their task.

You could have let her die, he told himself, then you wouldn't be here, trapped again, obligated to care for this frail pale snippet of a human being.

"The contract dictated I save her," he argued back. Conversing with himself was not an occupation he frequently engaged in but he was beginning to understand the enormity of the task he had agreed to when he signed Belle's contract.

No words have ever bound you. Unless you wanted them to.

"I always honour my deals."

You are fascinated by the curse's potential. Near unlimited power. What if you could harness that?

"I already have near unlimited power."

But, he continued, inexorably pushing his point with himself, with the Sight that comes at the end, you could discover how to get what you most desire.

Rumpelstiltskin was silent. There was no arguing that point. This curse's magic would allow him to See how to acquire the one thing he longed for most but had not the means of attaining. Yet.

That's why you're keeping her alive. And... she is so intriguing, so beautiful, … so useful.

Rumpelstiltskin contemplated the beauty resting in his arms. "It was a matter of honour."

Honour! he scoffed. Think you that you have honour?

Rumpelstiltskin chose to abandon that line of discussion and sensing that the waters had removed all the most recent harmful effects of the curse from Belle, returned to his castle, carrying the magically cleansed woman.

Belle's clothes had not survived the purifying process and Rumpelstiltskin averted his eyes quickly once this problematic situation was discovered, and magicked a loose-fitting tunic from his own wardrobe into place over her still-dripping frame. She was whisked away to a small sofa in front of the great room fireplace, where he could monitor her closely while spinning, enjoying his meals, or plotting the wondrous revenges he had yet to devise.

Dinner was next on the list, and Rumpelstiltskin didn't even bother to visit his barren kitchen, but called a small meal from the air, although it probably materialized from the nearby inn. Any meals thus acquired he made sure did not originate from some poor peasant's cottage but he would cast about for the more wealthy edifices, such as inns, merchants' domiciles, lords' mansions. A castle wedding was always first choice.

Rumpelstiltskin sat on the sofa next to Belle, pulling her up to lean against his chest, held a spoonful of broth to her lips. "Come on, Belle. Time to eat."

Belle swallowed weakly, then turned her face away, too exhausted yet for food. Unfortunately the power that had coursed through her untrained body had caused residual damage that would take some time to heal. She would sleep for days as the healing process continued.

Rumpelstiltskin felt he should be able to snap his fingers and heal her instantly but curses were such tricky bits of magic. The healing waters of the cavern had only stopped the cursed magic she had called forth; Belle still possessed the curse, fully intact. If he removed all magic from her it would also destroy the essence of who she was, a pity really, given the bravery and tenacity she had shown rescuing him.

Rumpelstiltskin called forth a large comfortable overstuffed chair to rest by the fire, next to Belle's sofa. Lowering himself into its depths, Rumpelstiltskin called his dinner to him as well, and contemplated the sleeping beauty beside him. The next few days, he knew, were going to last forever.

-
Chapter 3 Post-script

Rumpelstiltskin had watched over Belle now for three days, as his contract dictated. He stared out across his vast estate with unseeing eyes, contemplating the quirks of fate, and their perverse delight in providing him unexpected and unwanted excitement when once upon a time he had only craved a quiet peaceful life with a family, a home.

A small sigh pulled him from his musings and he turned around to look down on the pale woman reclining across the great four-poster bed. She grimaced and turned her head towards him, eyes closed, a small groan sounding from the frail frame. Rumpelstiltskin went to her, sitting on the bed beside her and placed his palm on her forehead, feeling the sizzling heat emanating from her. A moment passed and the heat dissipated, the fine features turned peaceful again, the tense body relaxed. When she was resting quietly he removed his hand.

Rumpelstiltskin studied the face of this Belle that was now his responsibility. Her face, pale and gaunt now, consumed by the magic that had saved him from decades of captivity, held an ethereal quality in slumber, oddly compelling, like her electric blue eyes as they had stared into his soul. Rumpelstiltskin raised a golden hand to her face, letting fingers caress one cheek. Belle snuggled into his hand, drawn to his touch, slowly pulled her hand up to cover his own. Rumpelstiltskin sank to his knees at her bedside, hand trapped between warm cheek and sweet stroking hand, his heart dancing in a way he had never known it to do in all his dark years.

Touch, affection, these were things foreign to him, not to his once giving and loving nature, but as the recipient they had been painfully lacking. Yet this woman even in her sleep could wield a small inadvertent caress like a mighty sword and bring him to his knees at her side.

Rumpelstiltskin knew he was in deep trouble, and the woman hadn't even opened her eyes yet.