For the past few months, he rarely visited the Dark Castle. The memories were too painful. There was no room he could go where Belle's absence wasn't felt keenly. Now that he stood at the entrance of the great hall, he could see the dusty evidence of neglect. The Queen's parting blow rang in his ears.
No. He would never make that mistake again.
Slowing as he walked past the table, flashes from the past came unbidden: the girl in her golden dress, spilling tea on the floor at his sharp jibe, then laughing nervously as he assured her he was not being serious; sitting on the table asking questions that delved too deeply into his personal history; laughing at his jesting and seeing right through his masks. She had a quality about her that he had not seen in anyone for hundreds of years. Braver than most, she stood up to his harshness and returned it with kindness instead. Most people were afraid of him; and while she may have feared him as well, she didn't allow it to cripple her in his presence. Sometimes it was refreshing. Other times, it was irritating beyond reason.
Turning around, he gazed out of the floor-length window overlooking the valley below. The late evening light was gradually fading, covering everything in a deep blue shadow. The window... He jerked as he remembered his sudden panic when she fell off the ladder, and he caught her in his arms. That was the first of several awkward moments shared between them. Even now he could almost feel her weight in his arms, the closeness of her face, the glimmer in her eye as she stared up at him, as much surprised as he was. He felt the heat rise in his face and turned away quickly, pushing the memory far back into his subconscious.
That was when his eyes fell on it: the spinning wheel, still and forlorn. It was there that hope was raised, only to be dashed to pieces moments later. That was the seat of his bitterest memory with Belle.
He approached it hesitantly, almost as if it were a sleeping beast that might be roused at the slightest noise. Reaching out, he touched the wheel gingerly. It moved without a sound. Walking around the contraption, he sat down at it, placing his hands as if preparing to spin. He used to do this to forget. Now he wasn't sure if he could ever forget, for the reminder of one loss only led to the other.
Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and rested his head against the wheel.
Her hand was on his thigh.
Tell me about your son.
I lost him. There's nothing more to tell, really.
Her sky blue eyes gazed at him, full of sorrow.
And since then, you've loved no one, and no one has loved you.
"Why did you come back?" he whispered to the darkness, his voice breaking.
I wasn't going to, but then something changed my mind.
He couldn't remember the last time he had been kissed. For all these years he hadn't missed it. But in that moment, he realized how much he did. The feel of her lips against his, the tenderness of her touch...it was almost as if life had been breathed into him again.
That was when his world came crashing down. He had been led along, deceived—and he had allowed it to happen. That was what made him the most angry. Feeling the rage surge through him once more, he tossed the spinning wheel on its side, jumping to his feet and striding away. He knew he could trust no one but himself. That was the rule he had followed for hundreds of years, and it had never failed him as long as he followed it.
The expression of hurt on Belle's face burned in his mind, and he roared in frustration. She was hurt? Did she have any idea what she was risking? Was she aware of all the carefully laid plans that she was about to destroy in a single act of – dare he say it – love? Did she bother asking him if he even wanted this curse broken? If she had truly cared for him, she would not have acted so selfishly.
No, he had been right. No one could ever love him. He couldn't allow it even if by chance someone did grow close to him. He knew he had become a monster, but it was the price he had to pay if he was ever going to have the chance to find his son. That was all that really mattered. Once he was reunited with Baelfire, everything would be different.
Bae...his heart ached painfully as his son came to mind, and his throat tightened in regret.
A movement to his right caused him to start, but he realized that it was only the mirror. Its cover had fallen off one corner, and he moved to fix it. The Queen. He couldn't stop the sneer from curling his lip. She was behind all of this, he knew. How far back she had been involved, he could only guess. Belle implied that she had only just met her on the road to town, but he wouldn't be surprised if that was a lie. The Queen had come close to succeeding, but he caught on before it was too late.
Grinding his teeth, he squeezed his hand into a tight fist. She had used Belle. With a deep sigh, he had to admit it to himself. It had been true love. It would not have begun working otherwise. Belle had loved him, and he in turn had fallen in love with her. The emptiness echoed hollowly inside him once more.
You were freeing yourself!
Her eyes blazed at him, full of passion and pain.
You could have had happiness if you just believed that someone could want you. But you couldn't take that chance.
She didn't understand him. She knew nothing about him, really, except what he allowed her to see. But she was young and naïve, easily manipulated by the Queen...and also just as quick to fall in love with the unlovable.
You're a coward, Rumpelstiltskin. And no matter how thick you make your skin, that doesn't change.
"I'm not a coward," he growled, pounding his fist once on the table as if to emphasize the point. He could see once more the hurt and anger in her face as he told her that he valued his power more than he valued her.
No. No, it doesn't. You just don't think I could love you.
Again, she didn't understand. He needed that power. Without it, he truly would be the coward she accused him to be.
Now you've made your choice. And you're going to regret it. Forever. And all you'll have is an empty heart and a chipped cup.
That was the last time he saw her.
She had no idea how painful it was for him to be the bad guy, how every word he spoke pierced his own soul as it pierced hers. It was all true. He meant every word, with the possible exception of the first part, when he said he didn't want her anymore. But he never would have spoken so bluntly if he had not already resolved to let her go. She had become a liability, and he couldn't risk her upsetting his plans anymore. He thought if he let her go, particularly in a harsh manner, she might be angry for a while, but she would get over him and move on with her life. And she would be safe.
Glancing sideways across the room, he saw the chipped cup where he had left it on the pedestal. He couldn't stop himself. Crossing over, he picked it up, its cool form fitting familiarly into his hand. He swallowed hard, knowing that once again she was right. He did regret hurting her, even if he had meant it for the best. If he had known how she would be treated when she returned home, he never would have turned her out. It would haunt him forever.
And he would never forget.