Dust
Rumpelstiltskin was in an odd mood. He watched Belle as she dusted his displayed collection in the hall and his main room. Rather than merely flipping a duster, she was dipping a soft cloth in water, wringing it nearly dry, and carefully wiping the dust away to avoid redistributing it around the room.
It was repetitive but he found he could not stop watching as her hands moved over and caressed each object with the cloth, inspected it for streaks, dried them, then set it back into the position he himself had chosen. She was done with the main cabinet and was halfway through the pedestals when he abruptly stopped the wheel and dropped his straw.
"I'd like tea. Here."
Startled, she looked up. "Now?"
"Quick as you like, dearie. Unless your rags hold greater appeal than repast."
Belle tossed her rags into the bucket and left to make tea, erasing herself from the room. She still hadn't moved a thing since she entered into service there. She returned with the tray and set his favorite cup in front of him and prepared the tea.
A question formed in her mind. "Why do you prefer a chipped cup? Don't you worry it will scratch you?"
He took it after it was filled and breathed the steam. "Look around this room, Belle. You as well as anyone living know the treasures I possess. I have the finest collection of flawless silver. I have a case full of jewels that are the envy of any king or queen. I have chalices hewn by master craftsmen that don't even appear to have been touched by human hands and my walls are covered in paintings that belong in chapels, temples, and palaces." He stood and retrieved an ornate chalice from a pedestal and held it up next to his cup. "Your hands have wiped the dust off the treasures that dragons covet and kings would go to war for. But do you know what they all lack?"
Belle glanced at the cup, her response both a question and an answer reflecting in her eyes.
Rumpelstiltskin vanished the contents of the cup and examined it closely alongside the chalice. "They lack imperfection. Imperfection is the product of possession."
Belle chafed. "It could also be the product of humanity. I broke that cup. That doesn't mean you own the break. It was an accident."
"One might say you broke it in for me." The tea reappeared in the cup and he held it aloft in salute. "Many thanks."
She laughed and hopped up on the table to put sugar in her tea. "I'll do my best not to make a complete matching set." Belle swung her feet slightly and gave him a thoughtful frown. "And I'm not sure possession means something is ruined. It just means that something is owned."
He pushed back his chair and walked around the table to the tray and sat on the table with her, setting the chalice at her hip. "Proper ownership means that the item is deemed to have value. Valuable things are prized." He leaned forward and took the sugar tongs from her. "Things that are prized are cherished."
Belle, unwittingly, had leaned forward as he did. Heat flushed her face. "Value is perceived. Something cherished by one may be worthless to another."
Rumpelstiltskin's eyes flickered to her lips for a fraction of a second. He brushed his hand along the table the flicked the chalice onto the floor, while holding his cup to his chest. "I place value very, very carefully, Belle." He raised the steaming cup and took a sensuously slow sip. Her eyes followed every move.
He stared back openly.
A loud knock startled Belle and she leapt from the table. "Oh, dear. You have a, uh, guest. I'll just get another cup and make more um… tea." She bumped the chalice with her foot as she walked backwards, pink-cheeked and fidgety.
His eyes firmly planted on her as she left the room, Rumpelstiltskin vowed to make the hardest deal for whomever had interrupted.