She was awoken by the sound of singing birds right outside of her window, a small smile curled around her lips. Belle had always loved animals, especially birds. They always seemed to be drawn to her. Every inch of her body was sore from leaning against the cold stone walls and she tried stretching, but quickly stopped when the ache worsened. Her fingers travelled from her sore neck to her thick, brown hair, which had became quite the mess while she was sleeping.

The door opened with a creak and a gasp left her lips from the sudden sound, but she quickly closed her mouth. She was not going to show him she was afraid. He leant against the doorframe, a smug smile on his thin lips. His arms were crossed and his eyes, the eyes Belle found difficult to meet, were fixated on her.

Slowly, Belle raised her eyebrow at him, questioning what he was up to.

''Oh, dearie, you're not exactly cheerful today now, are you?'' he said, obviously amused with himself.

Pursing her lips, Belle stood up and crossed her arms as well, even though she was scared.

''Maybe I've gotten it wrong, but I thought you forced me into this – this dungeon thing of yours.'' She said, making a gesture with one of her hands, as if showing him the room for the very first time.

Somehow her anger just seemed to amuse him, which angered her even more. He had put her in a bloody dungeon like she was some kind of prisoner. Was she his prisoner, had that been his goal all along? The question lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she was afraid that if any more words left her lips, they would come out shakily. Belle would rather seem angry to him than upset, or hurt. She'd rather have him not see her at all.

Still, her anger subsided when they had arrived in the main room and he started speaking about the many pieces of art in the room. There was so much too see and with every glance across the room, Belle's eyes met something new and shiny. It was so interesting she almost forgot she was upset. However, she did not forget completely. A part of her still wanted to accidentally break something while dusting, but she knew she could never bring herself to do that.

It was probably the first sign of humanity she had ever seen in him. The way he spoke of the decorations, in a light, breezy tone as if he didn't care at all, which just made her think he did care. A lot. It was the way he touched them, as well. They were delicate, and he was fully aware of that. Belle wanted to know the story behind every last one, and she hoped that one day, she would. Get to know the pieces of art, to get to know the person that imprisoned her. He strode across the room, to gracefully take place on a chair, resting his elbows on the armrests.

''Well, get to work, princess.'' he ordered.

The tone of his voice was cold, bored even. He didn't really care about her, not even about her existence. Somehow that was soothing to her. Her existence was irrelevant to him. She wasn't in any way important to him, and Belle made a mental note to keep it like that. At first, Belle had been tempted to just sit down on the chair opposite of his, and shoot a cannon fire of questions at him. She had never been one for cleaning her own rooms, but it would give her a chance to snoop.

She should have given up long, long ago. Dust seemed to have settled on everything and Belle just kept sneezing. Sometimes she could Rumple mutter something to himself, sometimes she would hear his high pitched laugh. He seemed to find amusement in everything. All he seemed to do was wander around his own castle, muttering and whispering against his vases and figurines. Not that she really was paying attention.

Her fingers touched every figurine they came in contact with, and soon Belle found herself wondering about their stories. Where had he gotten them? Had he travelled? Belle always wanted to travel and she felt a pang of jealousy at the thought he had travelled to where she had never been. Even now, when she thought she was going to save the kingdom and make a new life for herself, she was caught. There was no way he was ever going to let her go, Belle realised as her blue eyes scanned the crowded room. He needed her. Maybe not for the cleaning, but she was still part of the deal. And Rumple never broke a deal.

It didn't take long for her curiosity to overwhelm her completely, and within days she was standing next to him, leaning against the table he was sitting at. As always, he carried an amused expression on his face, like he had expected this to happen. Like he already knew every little detail about life itself.

He had not been rude towards her during those days, he mostly kept to himself and once in a while Belle would try to start a conversation. Their conversations never lasted long, right before it all started to feel like a normal conversation, he would randomly cut it off and Belle would be left by herself to clean some more. She hadn't dared to ask anything about the decorative ornaments all over the place, but she couldn't keep her curiosity in anymore.

Belle was standing at his side, slightly nervous, but overall, very excited. There was a part of her completely sure he was going to tell her everything she wanted to know about the paintings, figurines and vases. Another part of her wasn't as sure. He could tell her to get back to cleaning just as easily. It wouldn't exactly surprise her.

She could not keep still. Not when his unnatural eyes were glued to her, basically daring her to speak. After a few breaths, pretending to rest for a few seconds after all of the cleaning she had done already, Belle turned to him with a shy smile on her red lips.

''You know, you've got quite the collection here.'' she said, nodding.

He looked up to Belle, the left corner of his mouth raising into a grin. It was exactly what he had expected. He had seen Belle inspect every little thing he owned and somehow it hadn't really bothered him. It hadn't taken him long to figure out she never got outside of her little castle, therefore he found her curiosity normal, healthy even.

''Oh, do I?'' he started, ''I hope they didn't make cleaning the place harder for you.''

Of course he didn't care about that, Belle thought. She had to admit he was not discouraging her, he hadn't exactly told her to bugger off and continue dusting. The expression on his face said enough; he was rather aware of his collection, and the daring tone in his voice, compared with the little grin plastered on his face, made Belle's cheeks redden. Was she crossing a line there? Was she supposed to just play the maid until he got bored with her? That wasn't what she wanted. If she was going to stay there, forever, she needed company. Human contact. Long conversations about books. To know she wasn't all by herself, because that was exactly what feared the brunette the most. The feeling of loneliness.

''I just wonder how you got all of them.'' Belle mumbled, still she had not gotten over how intimidating he was.

Leaning back into his chair, almost if he was interested in what Belle had said, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand. The grin on his face had not wavered and it made the girl nervous. A few moments of silence and he cleared his throat.

''They're just decorations, don't bother with them. See, this is just a cup. You needn't know the story behind it. It has no story.'' he said, lifting the white china cup he was drinking tea out of, in the air for her to see.

Belle repressed the urge to sigh and then she slowly crossed her arms. She should have known, but the hope inside of her had given her these illusions that he was going to tell her stories of lands far away. She remained quiet, merely glancing around the room, an unamused expression on her beautiful face.

Rumpelstiltskin had to admit; he was intrigued by her. Not by her obvious beauty, but her hunger for knowledge. It had been a few days since he had brought her here, and not once had she openly complained. Apart from seeing her former room. He felt like he had made the right choice. She was the price to be paid for a land's freedom. Belle saw through a lot of things, he realised. She had known that he wasn't telling her the truth about the cup, or any of the other decorations. But it wasn't time yet. It was too early. Still, she had not pressed the issue, trying to get her way. Was she that smart that she had already figured out that pressuring him was not the way to get what she wanted? They had barely spoken but still Rumpelstiltskin found himself intrigued, interested.

She was not quite like the others.