II.

No, he didn't want to suffer through it again. The battle between the waking world and his subconscious waged behind his eyelids and he had no choice but to wallow in the fallout, his heart left to be cleaved from his chest from the pain. How many times would he be forced to relive it? How much more of the exquisite torture would he have to endure?

He'd missed her so badly, having been gone for several days on a deal to the north. The desire to see her, to hear her laugh, to gift her with the prized Andrazean chocolates she so favored was overwhelming as he rushed home to be with her, his Belle. She was on the terrace, the view of the mountains in the distance having captured her gaze and she hadn't yet sensed his presence. He couldn't help but wonder what had her so lost to her own thoughts, and selfishly he hoped it was thoughts of him which had her so thoroughly distracted.

Elation the likes of which he had never experienced crashed over him as she whispered, "Oh, Rumpel, I wish you would come home." And it was home; she was his home. Before, the Dark Castle had just been a place to store his treasures, a place to intimidate the many desperate souls who sought his help. But Belle had brought light and love into the dark and forbidding stones and made it a home. His heart was near to bursting with love for her, and it was difficult to school his features into something resembling cool control.

"Be careful what you wish for, dearie," he murmured softly, his voice losing the impish shrillness and resembling the voice he himself hadn't heard in centuries, the voice he'd had as a human before taking on the Dark One's curse. With Belle, it was becoming increasingly more and more difficult to maintain the façade of the Dark One. With Belle, he just wanted to be Rumpelstiltskin and hope it would be enough for her, that his love would be enough to keep her by his side.

Her steps were hurried as she moved across the length of the terrace, never slowing until she had her arms around him and her face buried in the crook of his neck, her grip fierce as though she had feared he would never return to her. "Oh, Rumpel …"

He couldn't restrain himself this time, his arms lifting to wrap around his beloved. He was tired of hiding his feelings from her, tired of running from her affection, tired of being afraid and he rested his head atop her crown and breathed her in. "What's this, my Belle? I was only gone for two days. Surely, you didn't miss me."

She snuggled deeper into his embrace, reveling in the fact he wasn't pushing her away. "Can't I miss my master when he's gone?" she asked, a teasing note in her bell-like voice, the sound a soothing caress to his auditory senses.

But he wasn't her master, not any longer, not since the day he'd sent her to the village for straw expecting her never to return. He could still remember standing at the window in his laboratory watching the road for hours, cursing himself for trying to do the right thing by letting her go and then experiencing the sheer joy of having her return to him. "I'm not your master," he said for the hundredth time, the husky timbre of his voice sending gooseflesh peppering along the skin of her exposed arms. "I set you free."

Belle lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes dewy, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she fought for words to convey the wealth of emotion which graced her lovely face. "But you kept my heart."

Before she could duck her head and hide herself from him once more, he quickly dipped his head and captured her lips with his own. How could he not when she had not in so many words just claimed to love him, him, the Dark One, the dealmaker, the beast of the Dark Castle. She had seen through the darkness and discovered the man he had once been, the man he wished to be once more … for her, always for her. He was consumed by her, her scent, the press of her curves to his lean lines, the taste of her on his lips, was more than he'd ever hoped for. But before he could deepen the kiss, she was pushing him away and he couldn't understand why, or why he was suddenly so dizzy.

"Rumpel, wait! No!" she cried, covering her mouth with her hands, hands which trembled in her upset. Her eyes were clouded with dismay as she reached out to steady him.

"What's happening?" he muttered, confused and dizzy and shaking with weakness.

"She was right. True love's kiss can break any curse," she breathed, amazed at the transformation beginning to take place on his features.

The spinner, his human persona, disappeared in a flash to be consumed by the darkness, the Dark One shrieking to the forefront, alarmed and absolutely furious this mere slip of a girl had dared to trick him. "Who told you that? Who knows that?" he railed at her, his hands tightening on her upper arms, his fingers bruising her tender flesh.

"I don't know who she was. She stopped me on the road the day you sent me to the village for straw and told me about true love's kiss," Belle tried to explain, wincing at the pain from his merciless grip. "I've been so frightened to kiss you, afraid I would lose …"

"You betrayed me! How long have you been the queen's spy? She sent you here to destroy me! It's all been one big lie!" he raged, dragging her along behind him to the passageway which led to the bowels of the castle and the long row of cells in the dungeon. "I can't believe I trusted you."

"Rumpel, please, I love you. And I know you love me too, otherwise the kiss wouldn't have worked. Please!" She pleaded with him to listen to her, but he was too far gone to hear her. The Dark One had asserted a firm foothold in the body he inhabited, and her anguished pleas fell on deaf ears, the trust he'd had in her destroyed. He tossed her into the cell and closed the door behind him in disgust, unable to flee her presence quickly enough.

She pounded on the cell door, her broken voice following him back up the staircase. "Rumpelstiltskin!"

He knew what came next, but he didn't remember the pounding … pounding … pounding …

Rumpelstiltskin sat bolt upright in bed, grabbing his head in both hands and groaning. Someone was trying to get through the gates of the castle and they were being rather persistent. He flung the blankets away from him where they'd gathered at his waist and dressed with a flick of his wrist. He dressed in the thick dragon hide armor he wore for deal-making. No longer would he wear the softer apparel he'd grown accustomed to while Belle had lived with him. Never again would he leave himself vulnerable to deception and skullduggery. He left his bedroom ready to do battle.

*.*.*

Something the Dark One prided himself on was the fact he was never wrong. Most of the time. Belle would be the first … and probably the only person in existence … to disagree. But the dream had made him rethink what he'd seen with his very eyes. His dream-Belle had been worried and upset his curse had nearly broken, but the real-Belle had been disgustingly happy at the prospect of restoring his humanity … hadn't she? He did not like doubting himself. Was the dream just an illusion of actual events? If so, which was he to believe?

Perhaps the Dark One had seen her as happy because it had given him an excuse to toss her out, to rid himself of her goodness and gain the upper hand once more, to take away the one thing the spinner didn't want to live without. The Dark One had always seen the spinner as a threat to his power. But it didn't make any sense to him either. In his own way, the Dark One adored Belle just as much as the spinner did, although for entirely different reasons … darker and much more carnal reasons the spinner refused to dwell upon just then.

The pounding at the gates hadn't ceased in his trek through the castle. Someone certainly had a death wish this morning and he could think of only two people annoying enough to torment him so. That was why he'd decided to take his time and walk the distance to the gates instead of magicking himself there in an instant. He climbed the tall ladder up to the top of the battlements overlooking the gates and looked down.

"What the hell are you doing, Hatter?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an imperious brow.

Jefferson was laid out in the grass to the left side of the cobbled path, propped on his elbow and flicking playing cards into his hat. He flicked another and it bounced off the wards set around the castle and then into the hat. The hatter smiled up at him, his pearly teeth blinding in the sunlight and his sharp grey eyes full of mischief. The cards innocently touching the wards explained the pounding. "When you didn't answer my knock, I figured I'd just wait until you were receiving guests," he answered dryly.

With a flourish of his hand, Rumpelstiltskin opened the gates and climbed down from the battlements to walk inside with the man. He found he could much rather tolerate Jefferson and his quirky eccentricities than Regina and her maliciousness this morning. He might even offer him tea if he had interesting news to impart. The thought of the little red leather-bound book resting on his bed changed his mind. He had other things more pressing to occupy him today. He led the hatter through the front door and into the Great Hall. Thankfully, the room had been set to rights and he wouldn't have anything to explain to Jefferson.

"So, what do you want?" he asked, dropping down into his chair at the head of the table and leaving his guest to stand awkwardly next to the fire. He knew he was being rude, but at the moment he couldn't seem to make himself care. Being a good host wasn't that important in the absence of his Belle.

"I was in the area and thought I would stop in to see Belle. Where is she, by the way?" he asked, toying with the trinkets on the mantle above the stone hearth.

Rumpelstiltskin ground his teeth together. Jefferson knew he didn't like to have his things touched, which was why he was doing it. He enjoyed pushing the Dark One's buttons. "Belle isn't here."

"Where is she?"

"Elsewhere."

Jefferson's brows disappeared somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline and he rocked back on his heels, preparing himself for the imp's latest word game. "So … not in the castle?"

"Yes."

"Yes, she's in the castle or yes she's not in the castle? Speak up, Rumpel," he admonished.

"Belle doesn't bloody well live here anymore. There, are you happy?!" he growled, conjuring a tea tray with a steaming pot, his chipped cup and one from an older set he didn't use anymore.

"Uh … where are the rest of the cups? That's Belle's favorite set," he imparted as if the imp didn't know any better, dropping three sugar cubes into the plain white cup and pouring tea in after it. He was biding his time on asking any more questions about Rum's little maid at the moment.

"They may have met with an accident," Rumpelstiltskin remarked blandly, concentrating all his attention on preparing his own cup. He frowned, realizing there were no orange slices on the tray. Belle favored them with her tea. Damnit, I have to stop thinking of her! he thought in vexation, his grip tightening on his cup near to breaking.

"This is awful," Jefferson complained as he took a sip. "What did you do to it? It doesn't taste like the blend Belle uses."

Rumpelstiltskin took a hesitant sip and cringed. The Hatter was right. He never had been able to perfect Belle's perfect combination of leaves and now he had to suffer for that, too. He doubted she would welcome a visit from him to inquire over her recipe. She'd probably crack her own teapot over his head for his gall. "Just drink your bloody tea, Hatter."

Jefferson perched his hip against the dining table and quirked a brow. "So … where did she go? Did you send her off to visit her family or some such? When will she be back? I had promised to escort her to the market next time I paid her a visit."

Rumpelstiltskin avoided the hatter's searching gaze, preferring to stare into the contents of his cup, his thumb caressing the chip in the rim, his thoughts straying to the night she'd chipped the cup in his hand. The same night he'd brought her home to the Dark Castle and startled her with his quip. He briefly wondered if she'd mentioned it in her diary.

"She's not coming back, Hatter. I sent her home to Avonlea for good," he said, brushing it off as if it were of little importance.

Jefferson gaped at him, his mouth flapping as he searched for something to say. He let his temper get the better of him. "You just couldn't help yourself, could you? You just had to go and screw it up!"

Rumpelstiltskin regarded him, his eyes black with rage, his lips curled over his teeth in a sneer. "You would do well to mind your tongue, Jefferson, before you lose it," he snarled.

Jefferson set his teacup back on the tray, causing the sugar bowl to rattle where it sat next to the pot. "You're a fool, Rumpelstiltskin. Belle loves you, and I know you care for her as well. How could you send her away?"

The Dark One growled as he rose angrily to his feet. "You know nothing!" he hissed, pointing a glowing finger at his associate, magic crackling dangerously through his wiry frame.

"I know what I see with my own eyes, Rumpelstiltskin. You've thrown away your chance at happiness, and that's just sad." He smoothed down the front of his purple frock coat and threw his hands up in disgust. "You know where I'll be if you need me for anything."

Rumpelstiltskin glared at Jefferson's retreating back, feeling hollow as the milliner's words settled on him. How happy could he have been with a woman who had betrayed him, a woman he could no longer trust? And why did it have to hurt so much?

*.*.*

He found himself drawn back upstairs to his bedroom several hours later, the lure of the red leather-bound journal overwhelming. Even his wheel hadn't been able to quell the urge to have his hands on her diary. And he had tried. He'd sat down at the wheel, trying in vain to lose himself for a while, trying to push thoughts of his Belle from his mind. The results had been less than satisfactory, his work rendering clumps of matted twine instead of luxurious gleaming gold thread. Now she was intruding on his solace. With a curse, he'd found himself climbing the marble staircase to seek out the cause of his wandering mind.

Holding the book close to his nose, he breathed in her faint scent which clung to the pages, intermingled with the smell of ink and parchment. It was so faint, if he didn't have the heightened senses of the Dark One, he wouldn't be able to smell her at all. With a thought, he was standing in her bedchamber where her fragrance was so strong it nearly brought him to his knees. This was where he needed to be as he read her words, this is where he felt he could be near her, feel her. He climbed into the center of her unmade bed and pulled her pillow over his face, breathing in her floral scent which clung to the fabric and choking back a sob, the weight of his loneliness, loneliness and despair for his Belle, crushing the breath from his lungs.

He stared at the book in his hands, hesitantly reaching out to open the cover, fingers trembling. He had to stop doing this to himself, it was over, and she was gone, out of his life forever. But he couldn't seem to help himself as he found the last entry he'd left off the night before.

12th of September

My papa can be such a stubborn ass sometimes! How he ever attained the sovereignty, I will forever wonder. He would listen if I had been born male, he wouldn't have a choice. Just because I'm a woman does not mean my opinion is inconsequential. I'm so mad I could spit … not that I would, of course … just think of the scandal. How revolting.

Rumpelstiltskin could feel his face breaking into a smile as he imagined the fit of giggles she must have been trying to contain.

I needed that. There have been too few opportunities to laugh of late. The ogres are advancing once more, and I fear for the state of our kingdom. I fear for our citizens and their families. How am I to make papa see we have no other choice. We are at our end. Even the fairies won't come to our aid. We have no other recourse but to call upon the Dark One. Tomorrow I will speak with Gaston. At least he will heed my advice where papa will not. Perhaps I can convince him to speak with papa and persuade him to call upon the Dark One. In the meantime, I will research the dark sorcerer to glean any information which might help with our dealings with him.

He will demand a hefty price to rid us of the ogres and I need to prepare myself.

A hefty price indeed, he thought glumly. He continued to read as the sun reached its zenith, ignoring everything else which demanded his attention in favor of his Belle's words.

21st of September

It took nearly ten days to get through to my papa, but Gaston finally convinced him to call upon Rumpelstiltskin. The letter was sent today, promising him what gold we have in the coffers in exchange for his aid. Papa is rather thick, I think. It is reported the Dark One spins straw into gold. What need of gold would he have? He's never going to agree to this. Besides, for what we are asking of him, he will surely demand something more precious than gold. I only pray we will be able to meet his price. He will be here in three days' time, according to his reply. That should give me time to think of something.

23rd of September

I think I've really done it this time! Rumpelstiltskin came just as he'd promised, and I was right yet again. He demanded a price my father wasn't willing to pay. Gaston nearly had a stroke! Of all the things to ask for … he asked for me. I knew for certain he wouldn't want the gold in our coffers, but to ask for a human being in exchange for his aid was not quite what I had been expecting.

Avonlea is safe from the horde. Rumpelstiltskin banished the lot of them to the Infinite Forest and rid the land of their threat. My people are safe and unharmed. The soldiers on the battlefield will be returning to their families. How could I not agree to go with the Dark One in exchange for such a gift? I will be brave, and I will endure … for my family and for my friends. Rumpelstiltskin wants a caretaker for his estate. He didn't, however, mention his estate was a huge bloody castle! How am I ever to clean such a monstrosity? Our own castle could fit several times within these walls.

He has asked very little of me … surprisingly. It is surprising, because he isn't known for a kind nature. Although I'm certain he could have done a bit better than showing me directly to the dungeon. I gave him my word I wouldn't try to escape, but I'm afraid my word must mean little to him if he insists on locking me away. There are so many treasures on display in his home, it makes me wonder if I am to be just another of his possessions, unworthy of human care, one to be locked away and disregarded.

I was told we are very high in the mountains which border the Forestlands. I can only assume winter comes early this high up in the mountains. It's so very cold and dark in this cell. I barely have enough light to make this entry, having only the one candle. But I must be thankful I was able to bring my diary with me at all. I do hope if he plans to leave me here, he will at least provide a blanket to ward off the chill. I won't be able to get much work done if I freeze to death in my sleep.

Rumpelstiltskin rested the diary on his chest and thought back to her father's war room. She'd been such a surprise to him, hidden as she was behind her lumbering fiancée, trying her best to peek around the oaf's shoulder to see him. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen with her long chestnut curls and cerulean eyes, eyes so expressive and filled with curiosity. It made him wonder how those eyes would look filled with desire. Not that they would ever hold anything but revulsion for him. He knew she would be a lovely addition to his home, one of his treasures in a vast sea of collectibles. A treasure to be cared for but not valued more than necessary, one to be traded if need be. He didn't expect her to intrigue and fascinate him to the very depths of his being, nor did he expect her to become so very important to his day to day life. In a moment of insanity … and perhaps a surge or two of lust … he'd asked for her, demanded her. He was lucky the roof hadn't fallen in on his head from the cacophony of no's he'd been bombarded with from the occupants of the war room.

He'd been ready to leave and let them seek aid elsewhere, had turned to go only to be stopped by that voice, a voice which could only be likened to an angel if one was lucky enough to hear one speak. She'd met his gaze with her own, bravely, defiantly, and he'd been lost. "I will go with him," she'd declared amidst the protests of her father and fiancée. "No one decides my fate but me," she'd hissed when the oaf had forbidden her to leave with the Dark One. He should have known then his life would never again be the same.

Even when he had clarified his intentions, "It's forever, dearie," she had still promised to leave with him. She'd merely had him reaffirm his promise her family and friends would live, that they would be safe. Without batting an eye, she'd left her home with him for the unknown. And though he had clearly seen her bravery and courage, he had been blind to her worth and gentle loving heart. He'd thrown her in a dank cell and left her to decide later what to do with her. I truly am a beast, he thought miserably and began to read once more.

I didn't have to remain in the dungeon for long before he called me upstairs to serve him. The kitchen … or the room posing as a kitchen … will be the first thing in this tomb I'm going to have to clean. I don't think it's ever seen the good side of a scrub brush. It makes me wonder where he prepared his meals before bringing me here. Then again, he may resemble a human, but is he really? Does he even need to eat?

Rumpelstiltskin snorted and smirked at the pages before him. He might not need to eat as often as others, but yes it was necessary. Leave it to his Belle to think such a thing.

It took me a while to find a tea service, a lovely little set with a pretty blue and gold pattern. Not quite what I would expect to find in the home of the Dark One, but very nice indeed. I had to scrub about ten years' worth of dust from the tea kettle as well as the china service, but they cleaned up rather nicely. I was surprised to find running water from the pump and a well-stocked pantry. Perhaps he was used to eating foods which didn't need much preparation and lives out of the food locker.

My knees shook violently as I entered the hall as he'd instructed, carrying the little tea service and I prayed I wouldn't trip and make a complete cake of myself. I did so want to make a good impression. It was evident in his smirk he didn't hold much faith in my abilities. My hands trembled as I set about preparing his cup of tea under his watchful eye. As I did so, he gave me a list of my duties. I am to serve his meals, clean the Dark Castle, launder his clothes … I don't even want to think about trying to clean that coat he was wearing earlier. It's absolutely horrid and I wouldn't even know where to begin. I'm also to dust his collection and other such menial tasks, but nothing out of the ordinary. Or so I'd thought.

My new master apparently has a rather morbid sense of humor. He told me I was to skin the children he hunts for their pelts. Of course, he got a great laugh at my expense and thankfully it was only a quip. I would have had to draw the line at such brutality. But in my surprise, the cup slipped from my hands and crashed against the carpet. I was so afraid he would be angry. Just to view his home is to see how meticulous he is about his things. I hated to look up to meet his eyes when I saw the chip in the rim, terrified he would be angry. But he wasn't, more confused really. He said it was just a cup and brushed it off as a case of first day jitters.

Perhaps he isn't so bad after all. Maybe there's more to the old spinner than just a dark spirit.

When I made my sacrifice to leave Avonlea and come with him, I really didn't think it through. I was so intent on saving everyone, I didn't give a thought for myself. I asked if my friends and my family would be safe, but never thought to secure my own safety. What if he is cruel or brutal? What if he had wants me to warm his bed? But he has been anything but. I cannot refuse him should he decide he wants me later, but it is nice to know he doesn't intend me harm. Perhaps I may be able to sleep tonight after all. I will face tomorrow with a steely determination to make the best of what I now have. And I do have more than others and am extremely grateful.

Instead of cruelty, I have kindness. Instead of hunger, I have nourishment. I have shelter from the elements and the opportunity to see the dawn. I am blessed, and I am thankful.

He closed the journal and pinched the bridge of his nose, ignoring the stinging in his eyes at her words of gratitude. He'd thrown her into a dungeon without even a blanket to keep her warm and she had been thankful. He'd taken her away from everyone she loved and cared for and she believed herself to be blessed. He wondered if he would ever understand her. The more he read, the more of a mystery she seemed to him, one he was determined to uncover.