The moment that Belle's lips met Rumpelstiltskin's, he would swear to being reborn and dying at the exact same time. It was a feeling like no other. Even if every one of his senses were dull as coffin nails, he would still be able to cherish the supreme softness of the petals that blossomed over his mouth, opening to him willingly and completely, fitting perfectly against him like a long-lost piece of a puzzle.
Fireworks, blinding white light, and dazzling patterns of color played behind his eyelids. He was sure that if he looked in a mirror he would see little hearts dancing around his head.
Belle's kiss was extraordinary. So delicate and yet more real than anything he'd experienced in a long time. Centuries, even. Warmth embraced his entire body, wrapping around his chest like a pair of powerful white wings, filling every tendon and pore. Meanwhile, the air had been sucked out of his lungs, so rapidly that he fought the urge to press a hand to his scaly chest to check if his grisly black heart was still beating. He might have, if his heart hadn't jumped into his throat.
There was only one word for this sensation: magical. True was another one. Blissful, refreshing, perfect.
A change was coming swiftly over him, though not a terrible one by any means. His mind had never felt so at ease, not since the night he willingly claimed Zoso's dark curse for his own. Why, he was convinced the darkness was dripping off him in the form of ebony rainwater.
His feet tapped against the floor, his heart sang a jolly tune, his fingers danced on his knees and flared when they brushed Belle's. He felt good. He felt unchained.
He felt…free.
The next thing he knew, he was lying flat on his back and staring uncomprehendingly at the high-vaulted ceiling, which was now spinning in several different directions at once. Black spots fizzled in front of his eyes and his brain was the equivalent of hot porridge. He tilted his head to the left to see if any brain matter would fall out of his ear. Nope, dry as sand.
"Rumpel? Rumpelstiltskin, are you alright? Please, say something," a lush voice drifted into his ear. At this point, he would have charged into blazing flames to reach that voice.
From the dizzying colors above loomed pink flesh and blue cloth. Belle. She was kneeling by his side, her hand over his heart. He would be disappointed if a handprint wasn't fused into his skin after this, a marking of Belle's tender touch. If anyone else had done that, he would have feared that his heart was at risk of being ripped out of his chest. However, Belle already claimed it long before.
"Did we…do it?" He rubbed his forehead and tried to remember how he got on the floor. It hadn't been anything intimate, he was certain. How could they have done it and him having no recollection of it afterwards? That was a bit unfair. Plus, if anything deeper than a kiss happened, why was he still alive to tell the tale? There should be chunks of Rumpelstiltskin raining over the Enchanted Forest from exploding in the aftermath of such intimacy. Was he dead? Was this the afterlife? If he was dead, why was Belle here? Oh, gods, did he kill her, too? He'd never rid himself of the guilt.
A pink blush heated the apples of Belle's cheeks. If anything, it made her infinitely more beautiful than ever before.
"You fainted," she explained bluntly, her voice cracking in all her fluster. Rumpel scowled. Fainted? That was it? He hadn't kissed a woman in years and his first reaction was to faint? Belle removed her hand from his chest and there was an icy current flowing through his skin from the loss. "Is your sensitivity showing any improvement?"
He paused, not even daring to take a breath as he concentrated most deeply on his bodily changes and five intricate senses. His tongue roved over his lips and teeth, but he still tasted the essence of Belle as though it were a succulent wine. Everything was in critical detail, not a single shred of his environment hidden from view or blurred. He inhaled generously through his nose, only to become smothered by a variety of conflicting scents including the salty sweat collecting on his temples. The rhythm of Belle's calm breathing fell upon his ears; all it took was an ounce of strain and he devoured the melody that was her heartbeat. It was much faster in pace than usual. The stone beneath his legs was rough and icy, bits of fallen straw digging under his fingernails.
Well, that was a bit of a letdown.
"Not that I'm aware of," he answered flatly, shrugging. That meant that true love's kiss did not occur, that Belle was not his true love. Right?
The excitement flickering in those crystal blue gems faded into disappointment. Had she been hoping for something else? Some bright, beautiful miracle of everlasting love and a happy ending? It was one thing he was certain he would never be able to give Belle.
"Oh. I only ask because…when I kissed you, there was a change in you. Your curse must have been lifting. You began to turn into an ordinary man. If you and I are true loves, if we try it again, it might work—"
Rumpel stopped listening after ordinary man, even if his mind filtered through every word against his will. Panic seized him, a terrible tightness constricting his lungs. Only, this lack of air was not the comforting sensation brought on by Belle's enticing kiss. This was a notch above sticking his head in a tub of cold water, opening his mouth to let the water gush in, and drowning. It was suffocating…he couldn't breathe…
"Rumpel…?" Belle reached out tentatively to caress his grey-gold hand, but he viciously whipped it away and scurried to his feet. Disturbing thoughts rampaged inside his head, pinging off the walls of his skull, creating such a racket that he covered his ears to try to make it stop.
An ordinary man. He had begun to transform into an ordinary man. The Dark Curse that consumed him for centuries might have withered and died, leaving him vulnerable, weak, human. Cowardly. He would age again and time would no longer be endless for him. Oh, gods, what if the centuries caught up with him all at once and he dropped dead in this spot, a pile of blackened bones? Everything he strived for, every hope of finding Bae dashed.
No.
It couldn't be true.
Ignoring the concern gleaming in Belle's watery eyes, he spun toward the covered mirror and, in less than three strides, cast the heavy drape away from its reflective surface. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief. His skin possessed its lizard quality, the scaly patches shining with hints of gold, green, and grey. His hair was matted and wiry, his eyes unsettling golden orbs capable of peering into a person's soul, if one believed the rumors in the markets. He wasn't an old limping peasant in leather pants, nor was he a pile of ash.
He never thought he would be proud to be his eccentric, impish self.
On the heels of it came bemusement and then anger. Did this mean Belle was his true love, after all? That his curse had started to lift? Or was this some twisted ploy to render him powerless, a mighty show of heroism in slaying the beast?
"Are you trying to kill me?" He spat at Belle's heavenly reflection in the mirror. If she was nervous or afraid, she hid it well. Too well, perhaps. Or was he being paranoid? When one lived for centuries as the formidable Dark One, there was rarely such a thing as paranoia.
"No, I was only trying to help you," she insisted, flitting a tad bit closer. The narrowing of his eyes stalled her movement. "When you sent me away, I met a woman on the road. She suggested that true love's kiss might be the answer. She…"
She.
Belle didn't need to voice a name, if she knew it at all. He instantly knew the person Belle mentioned. There was only one person in this world desperate and manipulative enough to take advantage of Belle's innocence and benevolence in order to spite him.
"Did she have an affinity for the color black? Guards with funny-looking hats? In-your-face cleavage?" The recognition in Belle's eyes gave the answer away long before any verbal response could. Even so, she inclined her head affirmatively.
"Yes. I take it you've met her?" Met her? Hah! He had to put up with her petty whining and cheap flirtations for months while he taught her magic only to have her try to stab him in the back with it. Talk about lack of gratitude. With every step toward power Regina took, she transformed into the likeness of her mother. That wasn't a compliment.
Every muscle in his shoulders and back stiffened, rigid as the stone walls that structured his home. His fingers gripped the edges of the mirror until splinters sliced his skin. His amber eyes flickered ever so slightly from Belle's reflection. He no longer had any interest in speaking to his maid.
"You," he hissed into the glass, his breath fogging the shiny surface. He knew she was watching from the safety of her castle, reveling in his madness and temporary weakness. How would she ever forgive herself for missing it? "You turned her against me! You think you can make me weak? Hate to disappoint you, dearie, but you'll never be stronger than me!"
In the mirror, Belle's reflection shifted uncomfortably, her hands weaving together over her laced bodice. For the first time in months, she was studying him skeptically, as though prepared to call his sanity into question.
"Who…who are you talking to?"
He straightened his spine sharply, despising the doubt riddling her tone. Had he finally opened her youthful eyes to the miserable beast by which she was imprisoned? The anger and darkness were running too wildly in his veins to control; he was practically walking through a red haze.
"The Queen! Your friend, the Queen," he exclaimed shrilly.
A tickle jumped into his throat and he bent at the waist, heaving and coughing while water invaded his eyes. Belle's face contorted with pity and confusion, the word Queen hovering on the lips that kissed him only a few moments prior. She played the innocent card well. She shook her head arguably, but he would not let her slip away that easily.
"Are you truly that innocent?" He stalked toward her, a vulture descending on its prey, but she kept her chin raised high and did not retreat. "Or were you intending to destroy me? A Siren's kiss can be deadly to men foolish enough to take it, I hear. Was this your way of slaying the fearsome beast?"
By now, he had crossed the room to her and stood only inches out of reach. Dismay tainted Belle's pristine features even further and she rushed forward to make him understand. Or did she plan to strangle him with those lily-white hands?
"Please, listen to me! I only wanted to help you! What we have is true love, I can feel it. Can't you?"
He dipped his head and ran his fingers through the tangles of his hair, tugging at the wiry strands in utmost frustration. Both halves of his brain were currently waging war. One half contained his lingering doubts about Belle's intentions while the other half sparked to life at the mention of true love. It was enough to drive him permanently mad.
"Shut up," he growled, mostly to the conflicting arguments in his head. It hurt when he yanked harder on his hair, but the discomfort offered a distraction from the mess in his mind. True love. Belle may be my true love. But her kiss did not work…it might have if I didn't faint…it might have…
"Don't you see? This means it's true love! Your curse was breaking," Belle carried on, more urgently since she mistook his growls for being directed solely at her. How can it be true love…if her kiss will make you lose everything? Don't listen, a silky voice of distrust whispered in his ear. The other half disagreed. Face it, it's true love. You know what to do. Sweep the girl off her feet and kiss her until it hurts. You know you want to.
He was inches from clawing his eyes out. He could not handle these rivaling emotions.
"Shut the hell up!" He shouted on the top of his lungs to his jumbled brain that laced poison between him and Belle. Listening to that darker side was the cause of centuries of loneliness and self-defeat. He had enough of it.
Belle's head reared back in astonishment and her bottom lip trembled. To make matters worse, she laid a hand over his, immediately soaking his skin in fire. Stop touching me, he shrieked inside his head. I don't know what I might do. There's nothing more torturous…nothing more tempting…
"Why won't you listen to me?" Belle pleaded with all her heart, but it was too late. His patience snapped. Why couldn't she understand the truth in front of her cute, little nose? His hands clamped down on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing over the milky flesh as he pulled her into his embrace.
"Because no one will ever, ever love me," he yelled into her face.
His nails dug into her shoulders until she whimpered, a sweet sound to his ears. Panting hard, he considered escorting her from the room, but Belle countered before he had the chance. She stared at him with intense sympathy and longing, her breath tickling his lips as softly as a spring breeze.
"You're wrong," she said gently yet firmly. "I can."
The words I do hung unspoken in the air. It broke him into pieces, shattered his anger completely and knocked him off his heels. He thought he might be on the verge of fainting again. No woman had ever offered her love to him so freely. He had no idea what to make of it.
Rumpel's hands slid down along Belle's arms, savoring the feel of her in his grasp. He released her abruptly and returned to the mirror, pressing his forehead to the cool glass. If ever there was a night he wished to drink himself into a clumsy stupor, it was this one. He drew in a gasp of fresh air as he heard Belle step up behind him. Her fingertips stroked his back soothingly, effectively taming the beast.
"Please," she whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out her wavering reflection over his tense shoulder. If he turned around right now, if he took her into his arms, there would be no turning back. It was a price he could not afford, even for the sensitivity.
It was with gritted jowls and great reluctance that he forced his heart to retreat into a solid, stone chamber.
"Go," he demanded. Belle did not walk away, nor was she quick with a reply. He felt her hand resting on his back, unmoving. Was she wondering if she heard him wrong?
"Go where?" He shook his head furiously.
"The gardens, the dungeons, the library…Go to the moon if that's what your heart desires. So long as you're not in the same room as me," he replied crisply. One more minute in a room alone with Belle would be enough to kill him. Or at least kill his sense of logic.
He counted his breaths as he waited for Belle to leave—there were ten of them before her footfalls carried her out the door. The smell of her natural fragrance faded, leaving the odor of must and dust in its wake. Rumpel pried open his eyelids and drank in his gruesome reflection. What the hell are you pouting about? Without thinking, he launched his fist into the mirror, transforming it into a complex web of broken glass.
He yelped as crimson blood flooded over his knuckles. The pain was so great, it had him squirming about and waving his hand in the air like he was saying hello to someone invisible.
"Holy mother of Bae, that stings," he screeched and set about picking the shards of glass from his skin. Note to self: use something other than hand to break the next mirror.
…..
Regina couldn't resist watching through her mirror as the beauty kissed her poor, suffering beast and ultimately killed him with the passion of true love. How ironic; the magical essence that often restored life would only bring death for Rumpelstiltskin. She cackled aloud as he toppled backwards off his chair. If she wasn't wearing such a revealing dress, she'd do a backflip through the halls of her castle.
It worked! He was dead! The deceitful, giggling entity known as the Dark One had been vanquished from the Enchanted Forest at last and she, Queen Regina, the most powerful being in all the realms, would be labeled a hero for her efforts. It made her want to jump into the air and shout to the world—
"What the hell?"
Her joy evaporated like a puddle of water rising into steam in the desert. Rumpelstiltskin was still alive. He was on the floor, writhing about, lifting his head as his precious maid knelt to lend him aid. No! No, no, no! He was supposed to be dead!
Why did she never get her way in this world? She stomped her foot and pouted her lip.
Her expression twisted into a livid snarl, the mirror shaking beneath her iron grip. She gave that useless girl one task: to give Rumpelstiltskin true love's kiss—while Regina gagged, of course—and unintentionally make his heart give out from overexertion and excitement. Was that too much to ask? I should have let my horse sit on her in that road, she thought bitterly. I would have left Rumpelstiltskin a note and a map about where to find her body. Maybe then he would die of heartache.
She bit her tongue until it bled, all the while observing Rumpelstiltskin dashing to the mirror to admire his reflection. It was hideous in her opinion. Those teeth, that body, that hair! His charm must come from those leather pants.
Things became interesting once more when Rumpel turned his fury on his maid, roaring at the top of his lungs. Perhaps it was a spot on her mirror, but Regina swore there were tears in the girl's eyes when she walked out of that room.
Maybe Regina would send her a homemade apple pie. Something to lighten her mood.
Rumpel glared at her through the mirror one last time. Sneering, he drove his fist into the glass, disrupting her view of the inside of his castle. The mirror flickered and then a golden message scrolled across the glass. Connection lost. Please try again later.
So much for destroying the Dark One and having people kiss her boots in gratitude. It seemed Rumpelstiltskin was not one to die easily. He's rather old, isn't he? He's lived for centuries, much to the displeasure of this realm. That means I should have plenty of chances to try again, she thought glumly. She hated waiting, but there was nothing to be done. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Plan Z of Operation: Begone, Snow White. I wonder if that little green witch from Oz would mind if I borrowed her flying monkeys.
….
Belle did not go to the gardens; the sight of a single rose would inevitably mock her about Rumpelstiltskin. She did not go to the library; it was a sanctuary for both of them and she felt her mind was too worked up to read. She also didn't go to the moon; that was impossible to accomplish.
So she went to the dungeons, the farthest place from Rumpel that she could think of without leaving the grounds of the castle. It was dim and chilly, but she did not care at the moment. She slumped down into a corner and buried her face into the crook of her elbow, trying and failing to forget the taste of his lips.
She did not understand how something that felt so right, something as pure and beautiful as true love's kiss, could be so devastatingly wrong.
…..
Rumpel mulled over the dispute with Belle for a long while. It was constantly on his mind since the moment she walked away, digging under his skin almost as ruthlessly as his mission of finding Bae. Was he that affected by Belle's presence that he actually felt….guilty? Had he overreacted? It was only a kiss, not a poison-soaked dagger.
The anxiety and remorse tugged him in two different directions. Did she even realize what she had almost done? Most likely not. If her kiss worked, if his Dark One curse broke, it meant losing his path to Bae forever. On the other hand, it made him shudder to think of losing Belle's company or reverting to a gloomy, lonely existence where the curtains were nailed over the windows.
Somehow, he needed to fix this. He needed to make amends with Belle.
Without realizing it, his feet had carried him down the narrow stairs into the dungeons and directly to Belle's cell. For a long time, he stood at that door and debated on entering. Stop being a coward, he ridiculed himself. Get in there and face Belle like a man. Are you the master of this castle or not?
He puffed out his chest and stormed into the cell before he could reconsider. His immediate thought was that he should have baked a fancy cake and written Sorry, Belle with fresh strawberries. Women enjoyed the pleasure of sweets when they were upset, didn't they?
Belle was curled in the farthest corner of the cell, head tilted against the wall, though she was in no way asleep. She had confined herself to staring miserably at the opposite wall, lost in her solemn thoughts. When he entered, she was shaken out of her reverie and blinked up at him expectantly.
Belle's patience was a wonder to behold. She did not prod or deliver snippy remarks. She did not fidget restlessly or act as though she did not care. She merely waited quietly for his first move.
Rumpel did not speak for a heavy moment. He strode into the cell and loomed above her, but he averted his gaze from her questioning blue eyes. A few times the words played on his tongue before slipping away through his fingers.
Hello, Belle. How are you faring? No, too cheery. She'll think I'm deliberately mocking her. How about….Belle, you remember that ugly scene upstairs? What am I thinking? Of course she remembers! She's not a rattle-brained amnesiac! Unless, by chance, she rolled down the stairs and hit her head on her way down here.
It was useless. Rumpelstiltskin, master of deals and wordplay, had no idea what to say. Belle looked uncertainly at the hands folded in her lap. In the end, it was up to her to break the silence.
"What are you going to do with me?"
The words were strained, even if they were not spoken in fear. Rumpel knew why. Belle was struggling with the very real possibility that, contrary to her brave claim the night she became his, her fate was no longer up to her to decide. How long had she contemplated his intentions? What sort of conclusions did she come to?
In all honesty, his fate was in her hands and not the other way around. It had been that way since the night he drank that sensitivity potion, maybe even before that night. She was his undoing yet also his salvation.
He sighed deeply and spread his arms widely at his sides. Belle eyed them dubiously. He lowered them once he realized the gesture made him look like he was requesting a hug. If he were in Belle's place, he wouldn't be in the hugging mood, either.
"You wanted a story. Is that still true?" Belle's shoulders squared against the wall and she appeared to bloom with sudden intrigue. He had never known Belle to reject a story; he seriously doubted she would choose this night to break the cycle. She nodded. "Then I have one to give. I must warn you: it's a long one."
"I have time," she replied without missing a beat. There was no question that Belle would not be going anywhere far, unless he threw her out of his castle.
If he said he did not want her anymore, it would be a lie. Besides, casting her out would be a mistake for both of them. Surely Belle would seek out her father's castle, but what if he made assumptions about Belle's virtue and Rumpel's cruelty? What if he disowned her, shamed by the beast's ownership of his daughter, labeled her the beast's whore instead? Or what if Belle never even made it to the kingdom at all? It was a great distance between the Dark Castle and Belle's kingdom and the roads were known to be dangerous, even fatal for young maidens. Meanwhile, Rumpel would sink into the depths of despair, become a darker creature than he ever was before.
Clearly, it was a lose-lose situation.
He scanned the cramped cell for a place to sit, but there was hardly any room to breathe. He settled for leaning against the wall with Belle looking up at him, eyes wide as a child's.
"I'm not sure if you've grasped this, but I am over three centuries old," he started hesitantly. He paused to absorb Belle's reaction. It was attentive, but not surprised. Most people would say something like damn, you're old or run away screaming words like vampire and evil by now. He cleared his throat and continued. "Those three hundred years have been spent on one goal only: finding my son."
At this, Belle gave a slight gasp. So it was the personal, sad parts that struck her fancy. She was definitely the hugging type.
"Your son is still alive," she reworded his admission. He nodded weakly, picturing Bae's face in his mind.
Time had done what Rumpel assumed would be impossible: he could no longer draw up the image of Bae with perfect clarity. The softness of Bae's curls, the exact shade of his eyes whenever they lit up with joy, the dimple in one of his cheeks when he smiled, the feel of his small hand when it clasped his papa's…The memories were foggy at best.
"Yes. My son is alive. I did not lie when I told you I lost him," he said, choosing his words carefully. He swallowed the lump that caught in his throat, preparing to unfold the most difficult portions of the story. He had never told anyone this before. "He was the reason I claimed this dark power. The king's men intended to take my boy and put him on the battlefield in the first Ogre War. He was a child; he would have died. He was all I had in the world. I could not let him go, so I became the next Dark One and I stopped the Ogre War."
Belle marveled over Rumpel's words, no doubt viewing them in the sense of a heroic tale. He supposed he could have stopped there, skipped over the blackened parts, kept it short, sugary, and sweet. Let Belle believe he was a good man who'd been wronged in the past. But in his heart of hearts, he would never forgive himself for that cowardice. He had to tell her everything. Everything.
She must have noticed how difficult it was for him to release the words, for she bit tenderly on her lip.
"If you don't want to tell me, I understand—" He shook his head.
"No. I've already begun the story. I might as well finish it," he declared.
Belle settled back against the wall and waited. He found that, after returning to the days where he still had Bae, it was impossible to shut that gate again. The details flowed ever faster, begging to be released. He did not fight.
"I swore to use that power for good purposes, but something dark took root inside me. I changed, even if I was last to see it. I took advantage of that power, I hurt others for my own gain, I relied on magic like a drunkard to the drink until I could no longer imagine a world without it. My son tried to stop me, tried to find a way to break my curse. He planned to lead me to a world without magic, where he and I could live happily. At the last minute, I panicked and…I chose my power over my son. I let him fall into a portal that led to another world, where he would be doomed to grow up fatherless. The only way I can find him is if I create a curse that will take me to that land. If my dark curse breaks, any hope of finding my son will be forever lost."
When he was finished, he remained rooted in place, eyes downcast, his soul bared as he anticipated Belle taking a hammer to it. The way he saw it, she had every right. Her breath was delicate as the beating of wings.
"Oh, Rumpel…I'm so sorry. I didn't realize…I nearly ruined your chance of finding your son. I never meant-" He held up a hand to stop her. He did not come here to listen to her apologies. After all, she was the most selfless person he had the fortune to meet.
He opened his eyes to see a tear glittering on her rosy cheek. His fingers curled into his palm, itching to wipe it away.
"I know what you meant, Belle. I do not blame you. Regina knew precisely what she was doing when she planted the notion of true love's kiss in your head. She's the one seeking my ruin, not you. I wanted to say I…I'm…I'm sorry," he choked out the words. He couldn't remember the last time he sincerely apologized for his actions. It felt good, right.
As a gesture of truce, Rumpel extended his hand to Belle. Her sky-blue skirts whispered as she rose from the floor. When her hand slipped into his, it was warm and reassuring. Impulsively, he brought it to his lips and kissed it, then blushed. Belle laughed musically, not perturbed in the least.
To his amazement, she walked into his arms and embraced him tightly. His hand fell to the small of her back and his head sunk to her shoulder. The raw emotions and regret he bottled up these past few centuries poured out, a river of despair. Tears soaked the cloth of Belle's sleeve before he even realized he was crying. Her considerate nature of cradling him with consoling promises only made the sobs come harder, the muscles in his back rippling and throbbing with every shuddering breath.
"There, there. Let it out. It's not healthy to bottle your grief," she advised softly into the shell of his ear. Her fingers stroked his hair, coaxing him to relax. Rumpel sniffled into her neck.
"Bae…my boy…and this sensitivity…it's so frustrating…I'll never complain about the grumpiness of pregnant women again," he wept. "And these leather pants hurt in all the wrong places!"
He felt Belle's neck grow hot as his skin rubbed against hers. He didn't need to glance up to know she was blushing.
"There, there…" Belle repeated stiffly. She drew back to peer up at his sorrowful face. "If true love's kiss puts you at such great risk, then we simply won't kiss. If it's any consolation, I preferred it the second time around."
She winked while he froze like a statue. The second time around? As in…?
"Are you telling me…we already kissed once?" He grew flustered, hurrying to remember the time and place. It was all a blank. Oh, dear, had he been sleepwalking? Milah once told him he could spin in his sleep, but he didn't think she was being literal. Belle laughed.
"Well, you might not recall it. You were drunk at the time," she said.
The light swarmed his mind. The night he came home after downing one too many drinks in an effort to escape the sensitivity. If they kissed then, it must not have had an effect on his curse. Perhaps it was because he was drunk or their feelings for each other were not yet fully realized. Either way, he began to panic. Had it been sloppy? Unwanted? What else did he do?
"Though….I have to admit, the bit with your tongue was…interesting," Belle hinted, splaying her hands over his silk shirt. His eyes flew open wide and he was all too aware of the weight of his tongue inside his mouth. He inhaled generous breaths in order to calm his rapidly beating heart. "Do you realize your skin glows more golden when you blush, Mr. 'Stiltskin?"
He rubbed a hand across his jaw, as though he could feel the change in texture and color. Feelings of desire coiled through his belly. No other woman had ever unraveled him this much. Belle had the power to bring him to his knees and he would not refuse her if it came to that.
"You'll be the death of me," he murmured, daring to wrap his arm around her small waist in an effort to bring her closer. She stared up at him fondly and brushed her hand over his cheek.
"I hope not."
…
Sleep eluded Rumpelstiltskin that night, not that alertness was out of the ordinary for him lately. For the past hour, he attuned his ears to the blessed sound of Belle snoozing just down the hall. Unanswered questions and doubts circled his mind. Finally, his thirst for answers grew too demanding to ignore any longer.
In the span of thirty seconds, he was knocking on Jefferson's door. He didn't care if it was the midnight hour. The hatter had some explaining to do.
"Okay, okay. I heard you the first seventy times," a sleepy voice groaned as the hovel's door burst inward. In the doorway stumbled Jefferson, half-awake with his hair sticking up worse than usual and rubbing his eyes. It took him a full minute to register the identity of his visitor, which brought on another groan. "I might be wasting my breath telling you this, but it happens to be the middle of the night and normal people are used to sleeping at this hour. If Grace wakes up, you'll be responsible for putting her back to sleep. Story-telling and lullabies included."
Rumpel waved it off impatiently and invaded the hovel before Jefferson became too suspicious about the purpose of his arrival. It was easier to do since Jefferson was on the brink of nodding off and drooling. No straw being stuffed into his mouth this time.
"Define normal," Rumpel scoffed. He peeked into the corner of the house that hosted Grace's bed, the area separated by a flimsy curtain. The girl was snoring quite loudly. And apparently she had a habit of talking in her sleep. Something about bloodhounds and mushrooms. What was Jefferson feeding her? Rumpel's nose would grow several feet if he claimed it didn't unnerve him. "I don't think little Gracie will be an issue. Worse comes to worst, why not give her some of those magical mushrooms and tell her to pull an all-nighter? She'll be asleep before you can say nighty-night."
Jefferson frowned with disapproval. Rumpel didn't know what the hatter was so negative about—it seemed like an effective strategy to him. As a matter of fact, Rumpel entertained the fantasy of selling those mushrooms door-to-door throughout the realm. It would work wonders on rebellious children at bedtime. Perhaps he and Jefferson could make it a team effort, create their own business. Rumpel (and Jefferson's) Mushroom Miracle!
Of course, as what tended to happen with Jefferson, his late-night fantasy was rudely popped against Jefferson's skepticism.
"Some people in this world prefer not to rely on magic for every small aspect of life," he retorted with contempt. Rumpel figured Jefferson was jealous that the only magic he produced was through a worn old hat. Those who can't do magic…sell mushrooms at the market, he thought cynically.
Rumpel made a sweeping gesture to the hovel in which they stood.
"Look where that attitude got you," he remarked.
Fire flashed in Jefferson's dark eyes and Rumpel was almost convinced he'd be getting the boot. Not that the rejection would prevent him from getting what he wanted. He would climb on the roof and stomp around noisily, he would sing tunes outside Jefferson's window, he would play monster through Jefferson's garden, preying on all the children-carrots and fairy-turnips. There would be no getting rid of him. Jefferson was intelligent enough to understand this.
"What do you want this time? Are you handing me an invitation to your wedding? Shall I fetch my best hat?" Rumpel huffed unhappily. Well, that wasn't a very nice welcome. But since Jefferson was so eager to get to the heart of the matter, he decided not to disappoint.
"You said that true love's kiss would be enough to break this sensitivity curse," he said, getting close enough to Jefferson to poke him in the chest. Jefferson swatted Rumpel's intrusive finger away. "Surprise, surprise: it didn't work! For your sake, you better have a Plan B."
Jefferson's eyes shot open in alarm. They were bigger than that ridiculous expression Jefferson wore the first time he met Regina and proceeded to gawk over her cleavage. And that was before her days of leaving little to the imagination.
"You actually found your true love? Who is it? Anyone I know?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Rumpel brushed invisible dust off his cloak and avoided his gaze. He shuffled his feet over the straw-covered ground.
"You never met her," he mumbled. Hopefully, he never would, either. He didn't need Jefferson presenting a much more appealing offer to Belle. Despite his stubborn vagueness, Jefferson grinned knowingly.
"It's Belle, isn't it?" If not for the odd pallor of his skin, Rumpel's face would be as red as a fresh tomato. If Belle was right and his skin became more golden when he blushed, he should be easy to spot from miles away by now. A shining gold statue.
He licked his lips at the mention of Belle's name. Even if he was on his deathbed, he would never forget the taste of her kiss. The increasing silence made Jefferson's smile stretch wider.
"Belle who?" It came out as a squeak, entirely unconvincing. Jefferson gloated with a fist-pump for being right. It made Rumpel want to gag. Great. Now he'll never let me live this moment down. Soon he'll be singing about me and Belle kissing in a tree. What sort of idiot couple shares a kiss in a tree anyway? "Point is: she kissed me and it didn't work."
Rumpel flounced onto a chair and left the problem in Jefferson's hands. The hatter paced back and forth, his knuckles kneading his forehead in agitation. He muttered nonsensical things under his breath. Grace shouted found you from the other end of the hovel, making Rumpel jump a foot in the air. When he craned his neck, he glimpsed Grace slumbering in her bed.
What was wrong with that child?
"She does that," Jefferson stated all too calmly without pausing in his pacing.
"I hardly noticed," Rumpel quipped. He scooted his chair further away while keeping Grace in sight through a sliver in the hanging curtain. There was no telling what that girl might do next. Would she have a tea party in her sleep, too? Mistake Rumpel for one of her stuffed friends and cram a biscuit in his mouth?
Finally Jefferson quit moving about and stared gravely at Rumpel.
"If Belle is really your true love, her kiss should have worked. The only reason I can think of…The sensitivity is a big problem. In that case, it must need an equally big solution to break it."
Rumpel blinked.
"Like…?" He waved his hands around, urging Jefferson to spit it out. Jefferson winced with regret—not a good sign.
"True love's kiss made you vulnerable to the sensitivity, but it wasn't enough to free you from it. It might lessen even more if you kiss her again, but I have a theory. You need to sacrifice more than a kiss." Jefferson allowed the words to sink in. Rumpel had a cold feeling about where this was headed. If true love's kiss wasn't enough…if it required something stronger…
Jefferson nodded in light of Rumpel's understanding.
"If I'm right, you'll need to sacrifice yourself wholly to the sensitivity before you can successfully overcome it. Something more powerful and more stimulating than Belle's kiss. If you ask me, it means you'll have to make love to your true love."
Rumpel fainted again.
…..
The idea for Rumpel ultimately making love to Belle to free himself from the sensitivity curse is mainly inspired by SakuraBlossom58. I was playing around with that idea when I started writing this story, but your comment about it pretty much sealed the deal for me. Whether I change the rating or not remains to be seen, though.
Shout-out time! I want to thank Huntress4455, DragonRose4, Guest, thedoctorsgirl42, Yakibaru, Just 2 Dream of You, zenobia2, cheesyteal'c, Grace5231973, cbear229, MyraValhallah, Leona, asalia, Drac1026, Spinning Folly, Guest45, juju0268, ZombiesloveMangoes, RoxyMoron, and swanQueen4055 for their fabulous reviews!