For the last three centuries, Rumpelstiltskin had relied on magical transport to travel between his castle and any place he desired in the Enchanted Forest. Jefferson's hovel was hidden in a patch of forest miles away from the Dark Castle, but he chose to walk the distance. It would give him time to sort out the tangled thoughts in his mind and it would give him an excuse not to face Belle for hours yet.

How was he supposed to explain to Belle that he needed to make love to her in order for his sensitivity curse to break? It was a theory that Jefferson devised in the dead of the night, but what if it was true? He couldn't even kiss her on the lips without fainting. A climax of those emotional proportions would hurtle him straight into a coma deeper than a sleeping curse.

Walking alone on the road, he took it as the perfect opportunity to recite what to say to Belle.

"Belle, this may be qualified as moving a little too fast in our relationship, but you and I should consider...as man and woman, we...we need to do it sometime...um...Belle, how would you feel if you and I took our love to the next stage? There'll be fine dining, candlelight, a bed covered with rose petals...and I can't do this. Stupid, stupid, stupid, dearie!"

He angrily knocked his knuckles over his forehead. If a carriage raced down that road right then, he would be flattened due to being submersed in his dilemma. There was nothing he could say that would make this situation acceptable. He did not want to manipulate Belle for his own purposes.

No, he absolutely refused to force Belle to comply with this far-fetched last resort. Even if suffered because of the sensitivity, he would never defile Belle the way everyone in her kingdom assumed he had the night she agreed to come with him. She was too good, too special for such harsh treatment on his behalf.

He made an oath there on that desolate road to win her trust and consent before ever jumping to that sort of scenario. If it took several months or several years for Belle to feel ready for that level of intimacy, he would devote that length of time to her. He would earn his salvation, not bring her to her knees by command.

It was the least he could do for her. Give her that choice of fate.

He planned to do this the right way. The power of his fate would lie at her feet and he would pray that she was merciful.

A creaking sound worked up behind him, making him cock his head to listen. The creaking was interrupted every couple of seconds by drumming. No, not drumming. The beating of hooves. Rumpel leaped into a bush alongside the road before the carriage and scent of manure whirred past him.

"Hell-oo! I'm walking here," he snarled, climbing out of the bush and picking leaves from his hair and vest. Then he snapped his fingers and turned the carriage into a pumpkin.

…

He had no idea how long he walked. Being the middle of the night, everything was pitch black and it didn't help that most forests in the Enchanted Forest generally looked the same. Trees, trees, trees, rocks, road, more trees. Rumpelstiltskin must have collapsed under a tree for a nap sometime during his journey, since the next thing he felt was a finger poking his shoulder.

One of his eyelids fluttered open tiredly, but the blast of sunlight convinced him to shut it tight again. He groaned and rolled over on his stomach, burying his head in his arms. His skin was swollen and blotchy from being scratched raw by his nails because of itchy blades of dry grass, biting bugs, and the occasional stray hair from his head. Before this curse, he never knew he shed so much in a single day.

There was another poke, this one digging in harder than the last.

"Go away. I'm hibernating," he muttered, swatting his hand toward the creature that was determined to stir him from sleep. Just another hour of fitful snoozing...and then he would carry on his way to his castle and Belle.

The creature was still there. The air had grown cold as its shadow stretched over Rumpel and he heard every breath that fell over his back. There was a snap of a joint or a twig as the creature stood, followed by the crunch of leaves as it moved to his legs, moved further away.

Oh, wonderful, it was leaving. Good riddance.

He snuggled deeper into the crook of his leather-clad elbow, snorting as he breathed in its old scent. Peace and quiet, except for the birds that wouldn't shut their beaks. Who in their right mind deemed for birds to be so chatty in the morning? What did they even have to talk about amongst their feathered friends? Which tree they flew into today?

The footsteps returned. His eyes bolted open, though he did not turn over to face the stranger. The pace was slower, the steps heavier against the ground. Every once in a while, there was a grunt. Anxious creases marred his forehead as he focused on a new sound entirely: the trickle of water.

Without warning, a thick sheet of ice-cold water poured over his head, matting his wiry hair to his scalp and drenching his clothes inside and out until he was soaked to the bone. Faster than he imagined he was capable of moving, he leapt to his feet, swiveling his head back and forth like a wet dog shedding the water from its fur. He spat fluid from his mouth and wiped moisture from his stinging eyes.

Someone was either hopelessly drunk off his arse or asking for a death wish. Waking up the Dark One with a pail of water—cold or not—was worse than hugging a bear. It was a one-way ticket to an unmarked grave six feet under.

"Where are you, you insidious leech? You wanted my attention; now you've got it. Come out and face me like a man," he roared, swinging blindly through thin air. Was his opponent a deadly assassin, apt to disappear in the blink of an eye? Or was it all a trick of his imagination? On the contrary, a single ounce of cold water didn't just fall and splash someone in the face.

Something tugged on the hem of his cloak.

"Down here," a delicate voice chirped below his waist. He blinked the rest of the water away and the infuriation drained with it. Why, the only creatures shorter than him were fairies, dwarves, gnomes, and...

Ah.

A familiar face.

"You?" Rumpel lost his balance, surprised as he was by the identity of the person who rudely woke him from uneasy slumber. Mary-Ann. He pointed incredulously at her, his brain puzzling over whether it was a mirage, even going as far as to nudge her belly to make sure she was undeniably real. The touch made her giggle. "Of all the fields I chose to cat-nap, it had to be yours."

So this was where Mary-Ann lived. Whenever someone summoned him by name, he didn't always have the leisure of viewing the entire route to their humble abode or the exact location he was taken to in the Enchanted Forest. All he had to go on were visual clues in the environment.

This place wasn't far from the Dark Castle. To think she lived nearly at the crux of his mountain and he never knew. He took a long moment to examine her from top to bottom. It had only been a few days since last he met her, but somehow she looked more mature than she did then. Today her sandy hair was held back by a worn black ribbon and she was dressed prettily in a simple sky-blue dress only a shade lighter than Belle's. A white pinafore cinched her waist and covered the skirt of the dress.

"I was chasing a rabbit. It ran somewhere over here and I found you sleeping under the tree. I wanted to say hello," she said sweetly. Leaning in closer, she cupped a hand around her mouth, as though ready to share a special secret. "I didn't brag to anyone about your last visit."

Wasn't that miraculous? A child that listened to her elders.

"Didn't your papa sit you down and tell you it's rude to wake a man with a pail of cold water?" It was obvious from the blank expression that Mary-Ann was internally questioning whether his inquiry was rhetorical or not. Kids these days took everything so seriously. In the end, she shook her head negatively.

"No," the single syllable came out quietly. Self-conscious in the manner of most young children, Mary-Ann seemed to expect him to chastise her for being wrong.

"He should," Rumpel retorted. He would do it himself, but what good would it do now?

He shielded his eyes against the sun and estimated it to be midday already. There would be at least two hours of scaling the mountain or else transport magically. Rumpel hesitated to summon his magic. It put such strain on his sanity lately and he thought he may be getting dizzier and loopier because of the purple fumes. Purple Rain, he dubbed it. Inhale enough of that smoke and you wouldn't recognize yourself from Adam in the mirror.

"Are you here…because of me?" Fear had crept its way into Mary-Ann's voice, rendering it timid. Rumpel pivoted around to face her, noting how tense the muscles of her arms and legs were. If he made any sudden movements, she'd bolt.

"That's the problem with the children of this generation. You think everything's about you. Prepare to be disappointed, dearie! It's not," he snapped. Mary-Ann apparently sensed the turmoil writhing underneath his cold words. The sun made her eyes shine bright blue, reflecting only pity. He made a thoughtful hmm in the back of his throat. "Not that it's any of your concern, little girl, but I am heading back to my home to attend to urgent business. There so happens to be a special woman waiting there for me."

Only after he lilted about his plans did he find the irony in the term business. Being a child, the double meaning sailed over Mary-Ann's head.

"What's her name?"

It was a childish musing, born purely out of curiosity for all things personal, but Rumpel was reluctant to submit. If there was anything he learned in his 300 years, it was that names naturally held power. Names contained the essence of an individual. Occasionally, through malicious hurt, heroic feat, or tremendous generosity, that name could be remembered by praise or infamy for all time. Out of habit, he bit down on his tongue to keep all his vicious, dark secrets from slipping out.

And yet, Mary-Ann unearthed a part of Rumpel he assumed had perished ages ago. It must be some enchantment or charm…but it was one that could never be deflected. It was the allure of a child's innocence, shearing into his many complex layers of darkness as swiftly as a fin cutting through water. It was increasingly more difficult to ignore the attentive tilt to her head, the probing gleam in her eyes, the bounce of her steps while she awaited his answer.

The urge to confide in someone like Mary-Ann—someone who was not quick to judge based on his unholy title—was tempting. So tempting, that he found the battle was already lost.

"Belle," he spoke slowly. "Her name is Belle." A dimple indented Mary-Ann's cheek.

"That's a very pretty name," she commented politely. He began to smile and then faltered, thinking of the complicated condition of Jefferson's theory. It was only a theory. Theories could be disproved, right? Mary-Ann bowed her head. He recognized it as shame. "Did I say something wrong? You look sad."

Rumpel half-turned to succumb to the shifting shadows of the forest beyond, all the while hiding the fretful pinch of his mouth and the sorrow masking his face.

"You didn't say anything wrong. It's a lovely name," he assured her.

Having her feel guilty wouldn't bode well for Rumpel, especially since he was so in touch with his emotions. Even now, he felt the ice around his heart chip away, the longing to unload the burden on his shoulders ultimately deciding his next move. It wouldn't be appropriate to ask for Belle's advice on the matter…yet. What would he say besides the truth? I have this friend—you don't know him. He's cursed and needs to make love to his true love in order to break it. How shall he go about doing that?

Very subtle.

"You see, I am suffering within the shackles of a terrible curse and she is the only one that can break it. But to do that, she and I must...do something extraordinary to achieve it," he struggled to explain. Mary-Ann's face screwed up the way it would if there was a bitter aftertaste coating her gums. Rumpel knew the feeling.

"Like a kiss?" Awe radiated off her in powerful waves, a parade of silly romantic notions traipsing through her pretty little head. Was this how Belle was when she was a young girl? Smitten with handsome princes, drifting on daydreams, and swooning over happy endings?

Rumpel coughed, aiming to squash his embarrassment.

"Uh…no, not a kiss." How was he supposed to discuss this casually with a child? Did her papa even have "The Talk" with her about the birds and the bees? Rumpel had a funny inkling that no parent would ever be inclined to let the Dark One educate their children in that particular lesson of life. "Well…it's rather simple, really…and a bit sticky as well…When a man loves a woman…and a woman loves a man…They sometimes prove their love in the ultimate stage of romance. But I'm afraid I can't reach that stage with Belle yet. It would not be right."

Mary-Ann knelt on a patch of grass, the hem of her blue skirt pooling around her legs. She looked comfortable, which baffled Rumpel into speechlessness. Why, she even dug a strawberry tart out of her pocket and chewed on it. Kindly, she broke off a piece and offered it to him, but he declined with a rapid shake of the head.

"You should marry her," she suggested bluntly.

Now he was thankful not to have accepted the strawberry tart because he would be choking on it. The direct statement caught him off-guard, so much that he completely lost his footing and stumbled backward on his rear end. A tiny bubble of laughter spurted from Mary-Ann's throat. He didn't see what was so funny about an older man falling clumsily like a cripple.

"Wha…wha…? Ma-marry her?" He sputtered, unable to comprehend the fantasy of Belle donning a flowing white gown, transforming into a blushing bride, and willingly taking him as her husband. "Oh, no, no, no. I can't possibly do that. It's out of the question. Inconceivable!"

The knit to Mary-Ann's brows claimed that she didn't know what 'inconceivable' meant. Or perhaps it was because her childish perceptions of love did not match those harsh realities Rumpel set before her feet.

"Why? Does she love you?"

Rumpel frowned, his suspicions confirmed. It was so easy in Mary-Ann's mind. If two people loved each other without unconditional familial relations, then those two people married and lived happily ever after. The beast always transformed into a handsome, kind prince and the maiden was lifted on a pedestal to glory. There were no hidden fees or loose strings about monstrosity, cowardice, famine, illness, child-bearing, or war.

The girl needed a wake-up call. Rumpel just didn't want to be the one to give it. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, humoring her guidelines of love. He also needed to shave.

"I think so," he mumbled. No, that wasn't good enough. A stroke of confidence rose in his chest from only-the-gods-knew where. It was a shred of confidence he wasn't aware he possessed, but he let it have its say nonetheless. "I'd bet my castle on it."

From her spot on the grass, Mary-Ann perked up in excitement.

"You have a castle?" From her exhilarated tone, he may as well have promised to buy her a horse for her birthday. Hell, a horse and a carriage. All little girls dreamed of horses, didn't they? He was clueless, since he never had a daughter. "How big is it? Can you see the ocean? Is it close-by? Do you ever have fancy balls or weddings?"

Rumpel crouched in front of her and snapped his fingers in front of her face. She gasped and crawled back on her elbows, her wild eyes scanning her body for any changes. What did she think he would do? Turn her into a frog princess? She appeared relieved that she wasn't too big or too small.

"Focus, Mary-Ann," he berated. He'd prefer to revert to this gushy talk of love than to have Mary-Ann get in her head to trail him back to his castle and be named an unofficial guest as a result. Her fear vanished, shifting abruptly into irritation. Her cheeks flushed pink.

"My name's not Mary-Ann," she protested in a surprisingly defiant voice. If this girl had been born royal or married into nobility, she would work wonders in royal court. "It's—"

Rumpel impatiently waved his hand to shoo her into silence. Even if knowing someone's name inevitably gave him power over them, he never liked taking that control over children. It did not sit right with him since the night Bae fell into that portal. Guess he had a soft spot.

"Don't care. Focus," he repeated, posing his fingers to snap again. He drew back, offering the girl some space. Mary-Ann—or whatever her name really was—pulled herself into a sitting position, stretching her legs out on the grass to catch the sunlight. It took her a moment or two of quiet pondering to return to her undeterred interest in Rumpel's problem. Maybe she wanted to be certain he wouldn't change his mind and turn her into a snail.

"Do you love her?"

Rumpel froze, a golden-grey statue with fashionable taste in leather. Just when he assumed Mary-Ann had finished asking the most personal of questions, she unleashed the mother of them. His throat tightened, his nails pierced his skin, and his brain sizzled with the heat of one of Regina's fireballs.

Flashes of Belle—falling into his arms, accepting the rose, comforting him over the loss of Bae—spun through his mind; a tornado of bittersweet memories. His heart thudded heavier with each one that skimmed the surface. The mere whisper of Belle's name in his head sent him tumbling on a crashing wave of emotions. Longing, sadness, amazement…and…

"Yes. Yes, I do. I love her," Rumpel admitted, more for his own benefit than Mary-Ann's.

It was strange to attach the binding implications of love to Belle, but it was strange in a good way. The kind that made butterflies chase each other inside his belly. This was the first time he said it aloud, the first time he truly realized it. Mary-Ann shrugged, as if she had known it all along and was only waiting for Rumpel to catch up.

"Then marry her," she concluded. What was he waiting for? That was the unspoken question slithering outwards from Mary-Ann's sentiment.

If only it were that simple. Mary-Ann did not fully understand how the world worked. If he couldn't be a worthy husband to Milah or a desirable lover to Cora, how was he supposed to be an adequate one for Belle? Or did true love offer him a worry-free pass?

"She'll never agree to marry me," he said, scraping his boot along the dirt so it created a trench. There was an underside to this greasy coin: he was afraid that if he proposed to Belle, she would whole-heartedly agree to confine herself forevermore in his castle as his lovely wife, in which he would eventually fail to satisfy her or otherwise shame her in his husbandly duties.

Mary-Ann playfully rolled her eyes to the cloudy sky.

"How do you know?"

No one ever asked him that question before. In his days as an ordinary, lame peasant, whenever he did something cowardly the people of his village were only too happy to brand him thusly. They never bothered to wonder what he was so afraid of or if there was a chance he could improve on his mistakes. He never considered the fear of knowing the outcome to hinder his courage so greatly.

"Well…I…obviously…"

He didn't know. That was it. The fear of jumping into thin air and not feeling solid ground when he landed. He never had visions depicting Belle or any life he had with her. Besides, was Mary-Ann blind? There was a very justifiable reason perched in front of her button-nose.

"Look at me," he squawked, slapping his palms over his chest. "I am the Dark One, not Prince Charming in royal robes astride a noble steed! Women faint at my feet for the wrong reasons, children fear the Green Boogeyman snatching them from their beds in the night for not completing their chores, and even nature's beauty withers in my shadow. I look in the mirror and I see…she deserves so much better."

Mary-Ann's gaze swept over his impish form from head to toe.

"I've seen worse," she remarked. He wondered what kind of monsters she encountered that were worse than him. From experience, he knew that even the king's men were capable of being wolves in shining armor, feasting on the sheep that huddled in pitiable villages. This little girl before him rocked forward to pat his hand consolingly. "It's okay to be afraid sometimes. That's what my papa says when I have nightmares. Just don't let it take away your hope. Ask her. You never know until you try."

She wiggled her eyebrows encouragingly. It reminded him of Jefferson's eccentricity. Rumpel briefly mused over the idea of Mary-Ann making a good friend to Grace.

"We'll see," Rumpel sighed in defeat. He turned to leave the fields and Mary-Ann's fine company, planning to return to his castle. There was still plenty of thinking left to do, thanks to Mary-Ann's input. Though, he had a feeling he would regret walking the last half of this journey due to the sweat dripping from every pore and the soreness of his feet.

A hot bath sounded marvelous.

"Mr…'Stiltskin?" He hung his head in misery. Mary-Ann wouldn't let him go that easily. When he glanced over his shoulder, she was standing on her feet and sporting a cunning grin. "Does Belle like the book?"

The book? Oh, yes, the book he collected from Mary-Ann in return for saving her precious kitten from the tree. Had the recipient of the gift become that obvious? He smirked.

"She can hardly put it down," he replied briskly.

Mary-Ann appeared pleased that her book was being put to good use. Had it been any other child in the world, there would be endless pouting and protesting about the way he jilted them out of an item belonging to their name. Curiosity peaked, he turned back toward Mary-Ann with a question peppering his tongue.

"Tell me, Little-Miss-Whoever-You-Are, what is it that you truly want? What is your heart's desire?"

Mary-Ann's blue eyes darkened with dreaminess, her fantasies unfurling in her mind.

"Well, if I had to have anything in the world, I would prefer…a world of my own," she hesitantly stated. He inclined his head in astonishment. He never heard that one before. "I dreamed about it once. The colors were so vibrant, everything tasted so sweet, nothing made sense but it had logic all the same. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. A world where cats and rabbits would reside in little houses and all the flowers would talk to me for hours. My world would be a wonderland."

Behind them, the old cottage's door cracked open and a man's graying head poked out. Anything Mary-Ann had to say about her own little world was sadly disrupted.

"Alice?" Her father called into the sunshine, beckoning her home. The girl dashed a few steps toward the cottage, just enough for her father to see her and know she was safe.

"Coming, papa!" She fretted over how to explain the Dark One's presence before her poor papa suffered a fainting spell. When little Alice spun back around to say goodbye to her unexpected acquaintance, he was nowhere to be seen. Her blue eyes caught sight of something on the ground, something that wasn't there before.

There, in the spot where she had seen Rumpelstiltskin last, was a curious rabbit hole.

…

By the time Rumpel reached the front doors of his castle, he was miserable. Miserable was an understatement for how he was feeling inside and out. His feet were aching and had more than one blister, his boots had water at the bottom of them despite the many times he took them off to dry them with magic, and every limb was so stiff that his body might have been controlled by a puppeteer. However, nothing throbbed worse than his mind. It ran out of fuel an hour back.

It soothed his woes to see Belle curled in a chair with a book in her lap. She leapt to her feet to greet him with a soft kiss to the cheek. He shivered with pleasure.

"You're back," she exclaimed joyously. She helped him out of his damp cloak and hung it by the fireplace to dry. Honestly, the only way to undo Mary-Ann's Fountain of Ice was to roast himself like a turkey. "Did you find the answer you were looking for?"

Hardly.

Rumpel numbly plopped into an armchair close to the fire to warm up. Belle graciously poured him a cup of tea and retrieved her own cup from the stool next to her chair. He vaguely remembered thanking her for the drink, sipping it gingerly, the stream of warmth chasing away the weakness and chill permeating his lean body.

"In a way…though I'll need to test it out," he said, avoiding her blue eyes. He stared hard into the pit of the roaring fire until his irises burned.

"Do you need my help?"

Rumpel choked on the mouthful of tea tunneling down his throat. The teacup crashed to the floor, bursting into dozens of white shards while Rumpel gasped for air. Belle had no choice but to whack him on the back. He latched onto her arm, using her for support until he managed to inflate his lungs with fresh air.

"Thank you," he rasped.

Belle steadied him in his chair and then settled in her own seat across from him, determined to give him the space he needed when sorting out his troubling thoughts. He noticed how cozy she looked with her legs tucked under her lush bottom and her arms cradling her head. By the look of it, she was home. If you only ask, sweetheart, I will gladly make this your home, he vowed silently.

"Technically, it would be impossible to do what I need to do without you." Belle's eyebrows arched in pleasant surprise. He reclined against the back of the chair, realizing he had to tell Belle everything now. Deep breath in, deep breath out. "Belle, an acquaintance of mine had a theory about breaking this curse. I need to…make love to my one true love. Only by sacrificing my entire being to the sensitivity—namely, in a fiery fit of passion—can I escape its grasp."

Even after all his thinking on that lonely road, he still did not know whether escape meant being free of the sensitivity or something worse. Something like permanent slumber.

Belle was quiet for a long time. The glow of the dancing flames brightened her beautiful face, but he was helpless to read it. It was a book inscribed in a foreign language until the point where Belle decided to translate for his understanding. Was she recounting his words, dreading any intimate union with him? Or was she contemplating where to sign the contract?

Fortunately, when her head finally turned his way again, there was a tiny uplift to her lips. That book was not penned with fear.

"Me," she filled in the blank, a small hand tracing the contours of her throat.

He nodded once. Belle was his one true love, the one with which he needed to come together. The chair moaned as she transferred her weight on its seat, leaning forward instead of away. Her breasts pressed against the tight fabric of her bodice, rising and falling calmly. Rumpel hurried to remember all his promises he would recite to her—how he would give her the time she needed, he wouldn't take what he wanted like a cruel beast, he would devote his affections to her for as long as it took. But Belle always had a way of surprising him.

"Well?" He blinked over the tent of his fingers.

"Well what?"

"You have your solution," Belle pointed out. His hands dropped into his lap, his jaw following. Nonsensical noises fell from his mouth. Was Belle suggesting…what he thought she was suggesting? Did she think he would force her on her back? That her say in this matter was worthless?

"You think I plan to defile you? Do you believe me to be such a monster?"

Belle rose from her chair in a graceful swoop and he instinctively copied her movements, afraid she was going to leave that question unanswered. It would drive him mad if she did. He blocked her path, coming face-to-face with her, but Belle did not attempt to break through his defenses. It occurred to him that Belle was not the one trying to escape her demons.

Her hands clasped his shoulders, anchoring him down to the floor.

"No, of course not. I told you before: you are not a monster," she reassured. A cold feeling passed through his belly even though the fire was a foot away. It was either nervousness or hunger. Or a combination of the two. But Belle's hands were so tender over his shoulders, his neck, his jaw. "You silly man. I'm not talking about you defiling me. You have more honor than you give yourself credit for. I'm talking about you making love to me. You and I are true loves. And…I want to do it."

Part of him suspected Belle was carrying out another selfless act, that she was only agreeing to this to free him from his sensitivity. Being the heroine of her story. Sacrificing her pleasure for his sanity. If that were the case, he'd be haunted by even greater guilt. Composure crumbling, he let his hand thread its way into the silky waves of her hair, supporting her head.

"Belle…you can't want this from someone like me," he whispered mournfully.

Belle's impulsive nature flared and she cast him a condescending look. He should have known better than to try to change her mind. No one told Belle what choice to make, not even him. Especially not him. It was one of the reasons he was constantly drawn to her: that seductive spirited will was something he'd only ever dreamed of exhibiting himself.

"Do not presume to tell me what I want or do not want, Rumpelstiltskin," she warned, thrusting a finger in his face. He stared down his nose at it, eyes crossing in their sockets.

Just to prove the extent of her stubbornness, she entwined her arms leisurely around his neck, urging his head down to her. For a moment Rumpel panicked, thinking that Belle intended to kiss him, but she stopped when their lips were inches apart. He'd be lying if he claimed he didn't desire her kiss, anyway. Then again, his pants already felt like they were on fire, due to his proximity to the crackling flames.

"I know you want this as much as I do. I can see the way it affects you when I touch you in the slightest," Belle continued. She placed her hand on his cheek to prove her point. He closed his eyes and tilted his head into her palm. "Please." The word was a kiss in its own right, falling blissfully over his parted lips.

He could have stayed in Belle's arms for the rest of the night, the rest of eternity if time was kind enough. As it were, he rivaled the darker half of his personality screaming to take all Belle offered. Instead, he wriggled out of her embrace. Hurt transpired over her face, only a moment before the book slammed closed. It hurt him twice as much; this had nothing to do with anything she'd done.

"I can't impugn your honor, Belle. I would never be able to forgive myself the crime of treating you in such a worthless manner," he said. It would not be fair to her, no matter how much she insisted she was happy. Belle planted her hands on her supple hips. Just for a second, he imagined they were his hands, feeling those hips ripple and move under his touch. He paced back and forth to ease the tightness in his abdomen.

"In other words, you're condemning yourself to a life of suffering?" The way she studied him with concern and sympathy tore fresh wounds into his heart. He wagged a finger reprovingly and clucked his tongue.

"I didn't say that." He glanced at the stone ground, dust bunnies hugging the legs of the chairs and tucked between the countless cracks. It wasn't as inviting as a feathery-soft bed or even the dry field where Mary-Ann—um, Alice's—cottage rested. "This is going to hurt. Just know I'm doing it solely for you."

Gradually, he lowered his body on one knee. His leather pants pulled in all the wrong places, forcing him to grit his teeth to bear the discomfort. Still, he refused to openly complain about his awkward position. He planned to do this right by Belle. For once, she had been stunned into silence by his actions. With a wave of his hand, a tiny object materialized. It was a sapphire stone set into a well-crafted silver band, a ring made for someone special. The firelight made the stone gleam almost as beautifully as Belle's eyes.

"It's been centuries since I've conformed to this type of sentimentality last, so bear with me. I wish to preserve your honor, not take advantage of it greedily for my own peace of mind. I shall devote my time and energy to you, to shower you with the affection you desire and deserve, and respect you to the best of my ability." He twirled the ring between his fingers and licked the apprehension from his lips. He wanted this dearly and he could tell by the appreciation in her eyes that she did as well. Gently, he took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "Belle, would you do me the honor…of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?"

She looked from the hand that held hers to the sparkling ring to his anxious face. Pearly teeth softly chewed on her bottom lip as she mulled over it. He would have loved to give her hours to consider it from every angle, but his growing discomfort bordered on agony.

"I don't mean to rush you, sweetheart, but hopefully you'll give me an answer before I become a eunuch," he hinted, wincing as he switched to the other knee. If he was rendered a eunuch from this rigid position, he would surely fail as a husband. He had yet to meet a married eunuch.

Belle squeezed his hand and encouraged him to stand. Was that a good sign or a bad one?

"Yes," she answered, nodding fervently.

Happiness overwhelmed him to the point where his lips ached from grinning so widely. She allowed him to slip the ring on her finger and she laid a kiss at the corner of his mouth, as close to a real kiss as she could manage without breaking his Dark One curse. He pressed his forehead to hers, sensing he didn't even need to ask whether she was sure about her decision. The promise of forever echoed from those crystal blue orbs.

"Yes, I will marry you, Rumpelstiltskin."

…

*cue marriage theme* Some of you that left reviews for me last chapter were hoping this would happen and I agreed with it.

On another fun note, Alice's answer about "her own little world" comes from the song "A World of My Own" from Disney's Alice in Wonderland as well as one of Lewis Carroll's quotes from the original tale: "If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't."

The time has come for shout-outs: I want to thank Huntress4455, Leona, Guest, Revenessa, SakuraBlossom58, Rumple's Slave, Stonington, AngelofDarkness1605, Just 2 Dream of You, MyraValhallah, asalia, Drac1026, cheesyteal'c, Grace5231973, Spinning Folly, Guest45, and SwanQueen4055 for their awesome reviews.