III

The carriage slowed as it rolled into the courtyard before the palace Belle had called home for so many years … though it certainly didn't feel that way now … and came to a gentle stop. Dove hopped down from the driver's high seat and rapped sharply on the door. The windows were still shut tightly, the shades drawn closed.

Belle twisted the handkerchief in her fingers and tried to contain her emotions. She'd been crying for nearly three days and once the flood had begun, she'd been unable to stop the flow. She felt raw, her nerve endings an open wound and she had little hope would ever heal. She had finally arrived in Avonlea, her family home, somewhere she never would have thought to see again, but she couldn't find it in her to be happy. This wasn't home for her anymore. Her home … and her heart … was with Rumpelstiltskin at the Dark Castle. She felt nothing but despair as Dove opened the carriage door to let down the steps and help her from the conveyance.

Her master had been nothing but cruel and callous in his disregard of her feelings and each word he'd slung at her in his anger had cut her a thousand times more than a knife. Her heart was breaking, a great fissure open and bleeding, more hurtful than if he'd ripped it from her chest and stomped it to dust. It wasn't a meaningless flirtation she'd had with him. It wasn't some ploy to learn his secrets and report them back to the Black Queen. No, it was a true, deep, abiding love she felt for him and he'd thrown it back in her face like so much rubbish. She despaired she would ever recover from his rejection, wanting simply to disappear into her room and hide from the world until it once again made sense to her. True love was supposed to be beautiful and make one filled with happiness, yet she felt as though a piece of her had been ripped away to leave her bruised and broken.

"Milady?" Dove asked softly, letting down the steps and holding his hand out to assist her down from the carriage.

Belle drew up the hood of her cloak and accepted his hand, springing lightly to her feet on familiar ground. She lifted the skirt of the deep sapphire velvet which swathed her petite frame, a gift from her master when she'd come back to him, and moved forward to enter the castle. The guards at the front entrance stopped her as she made to move over the threshold.

"State your business."

"I am here to see his majesty, the king," she rasped, her voice ragged and rough from days of disuse and more tears than she cared to think about.

"Do you have an appointment to see him, milady?" the guard asked, guessing she was someone of importance by her bearing and cultured speech alone.

Belle was growing impatient. She didn't feel well enough to stand about the courtyard bandying questions and answers about with the guards. "Brutal, move aside and let me pass," she demanded.

Sky blue eyes peeked up at him from the hood of her cloak and he gasped. "No one calls me that except …" He whipped the hood away from her face and upon recognizing her, dropped to a knee. "Highness," he said respectfully.

"Hello, Brutus," she replied, once again drawing the hood back over her head. "How are you, my friend? Rise up now before someone takes note and comes to investigate. I would rather see my papa without a crowd eavesdropping in the corridor."

"My apologies, highness." He offered his arm to escort her inside. "I shall take you to him at once."

Belle motioned for Dove to follow and took the guard's arm, gathering up her dignity and pushing thoughts of Rumpelstiltskin from her mind. Later, when she was once again ensconced in her room, she would have plenty of time to think of her love and what she had lost. "You look well, Brutal," she said to her childhood friend. "Your family, they are well also?"

"Aye, highness, they are thriving. The entire kingdom is thriving due to your sacrifice. If you hadn't …"

"I am happy my kingdom has flourished in my absence," she said, her voice wistful. "Might I ask a small favor?"

He stopped in the middle of the vacant corridor and turned his gaze to her. "Anything at all, highness."

"I would like to see my papa and Gaston alone if at all possible. I don't want to have to face anyone else right now, Brutal, and the ministers and clerics who keep his counsel would only ask questions I'm not prepared to answer right now."

"I will see to it," he assured her with a smile and escorted her to the rose garden instead of to the throne room, leaving her and Dove there to wait.

Belle sank down onto the stone bench beneath her plum tree and gestured for Dove to join her. "Oh, no, milady, I couldn't."

"Thank you, Teddy, for seeing me safely home," she smiled, her voice quavering slightly from disuse, using the nickname she'd chosen for him months before when she'd been introduced to the gentle giant of a man. "I will have someone gather provisions for your return trip once I am able to speak to my papa."

"That isn't necessary, milady. It was a pleasure to be of service," he murmured with downcast eyes and a courtly bow which was odd coming from a peasant. No doubt, too much time spent in Rumpelstiltskin's presence.

"You'll watch over him, won't you?" she asked, feeling the prickle of tears begin behind her eyes. "Check in on him and see that he eats. He is terribly absentminded when he's concentrating on a new deal. And he sometimes loses days at a time while working in his tower." She caught her lower lip between her teeth and chewed thoughtfully to keep it from trembling. "Please, would you do that for me?"

"If I may be so bold, milady, he isn't deserving of your continued kindnesses," Dove protested. "But I shall do as you wish." He stepped quickly in front of her as a door on the terrace burst open and a tall knight hurriedly made his way into the garden.

"Belle!"

"It's alright, Teddy, he's my friend," she explained, rising to her feet and pushing the hood of her cloak back to rest against her shoulders. "Gaston," she shrieked as her former fiancée rushed forward and swung her up into his arms, twirling her about amidst her protests and kissing her cheek with a loud smack.

"Gods, Belle! It's so wonderful to see you," he exclaimed, pulling her over to the bench and urging her to sit beside him. "What are you doing here? Did the Dark One give you permission to visit? How long will you be able to stay with us? Your father is going to be thrilled."

"Gaston …"

"We never thought we would see you again and here you are …"

"Gaston!" she laughed as he hugged her once more in his excitement. "Please, do control yourself!"

"Belle, my darling girl …"

Belle froze at that voice and glanced up from her exuberant friend to meet eyes very much like her own, her heart clenching. The dam of emotion she had been holding in check collapsed and she extricated herself from her friend's embrace to run to her father. "Oh, Papa," she cried, burying her face in his tunic, sobbing fiercely as his arms went around her to envelop her in his warm embrace.

"Oh, my Belle, you've come home. You're really here. I don't believe it," Maurice cried, his own tears falling against her unbound chestnut tresses. "I can't believe my girl has finally come back to us."

Belle twisted her fingers in his tunic and cried harder at his heartfelt words. She'd been so afraid he would reject her after the months she'd spent with Rumpelstiltskin. "C-Can I stay, P-Papa? Can I come home?" she asked, her tears soaking the front of his tunic and staining the fabric with salt.

"Of course, my darling. This is your home, and no one will deny your right to be here. But why have you returned? The imp said it was to be forever."

Gaston rose from the bench and ushered Dove inside to give Maurice time alone with his daughter. He would see to the man's needs, the least he felt he was able to do for the giant since for bringing their princess safely home. Belle dropped onto the bench and let her father tuck her into his side, her head on his shoulder.

"Please don't worry that the deal has been broken, Papa. Rumpelstiltskin will keep his word and the ogres will not return." The mention of his name caused the tears to begin again in earnest, the pain more than she felt she could bear.

"I couldn't care less about the bloody ogres right now, Belle. I want to know why you are so distressed. You act as though it pains you to be here."

"H-He doesn't … doesn't w-want … me," she wailed against Maurice's shoulder, her words barely registering on him they were so hard to make out. "H-He thinks … he thinks I-I've b-betrayed him." She gripped the front of her father's tunic and cast her eyes up to meet his, the jewel-bright orbs pleading with her father to understand. "I would never."

"Of course, you wouldn't, daughter. You have always been loyal to those you serve to a fault," he assured her, stroking her hair in an effort to calm her.

"I love him, Papa, and he sent me away. He doesn't want me anymore. And I swear to you I didn't betray him," she insisted, giving in once more to the sobs which threatened to break her.

Maurice held her close and rocked her in his arms, his darling broken daughter having come home to the solace only a parent could offer. He vowed he would let no harm come to her and sent off servants in every direction to see to preparing her room and a quiet supper for the two of them to celebrate her homecoming in private. He would get to the bottom of the horrid state of his child and work towards making her better. She would need his support if he ever hoped to have her smile at him again and it would be the very last time he ever asked for magical assistance of any kind if the consequences were to see his daughter left in such a state.

"It will be alright, my girl, Papa's got you. We'll make everything right again. You're safe here, sweetheart," he crooned softly against the crown of her sweet-smelling hair. "I promise all will be well."

"But I love him, Papa," Belle sobbed brokenly. As much as she loved her father, she didn't want to accept his comfort or his platitudes that she would heal. She didn't want to be here in her familial home surrounded by her father and her friends. She didn't want to resume the life she'd been so grateful to escape when she'd bartered her life away to save her kingdom. She just wanted Rumpelstiltskin and the love he was denying them both with his rage, his cowardice and his stubborn refusal to see the truth.

*.*.*

Rumpelstiltskin paced before the great stone hearth in the Great Hall, his gaze continually drawn to the little red diary which sat innocently on the long dining table. She'd left it to distract him. There was no other reason. How could such a tiny little book so thoroughly destroy his concentration? It was keeping him from more important concerns. He had a curse to complete, a queen to toy with and a princess to aid in her path to true love. There were so many more dire pursuits which required his immediate attention. He did not have time for this.

He found himself inching towards the table, his hand reaching for the little book only to snatch it back with a curse. It somehow felt wrong to be privy to her innermost thoughts and feelings. He'd felt lower than the belly of a snail after reading about her first night in his castle and he didn't know if he was quite ready for what she had in store for him next. But he wasn't able to stop himself from plopping down in his favorite chair to read the next entry against his will.

25th of September

I can honestly say I have never been so exhausted in my life.

He slammed the book shut and tapped his blackened claws against the polished wood surface of the table. Now he felt guilty because he'd worked the poor girl to exhaustion. Had he been alone so long he was unable to grasp the concept of basic human kindness? Belle had been a spur of the moment decision, a distraction to ease the loneliness of his existence. For so long his focus had been a way to find his way back to his son, his only visitors being the desperate souls in search of his help, the hatter and that vicious little harpy he needed to cast his curse. He dropped his chin into his hand and toyed with a stray thread on the armrest of his chair. In no way was he supposed to fall in love with a princess so far above his station in life he needed a ladder to be able to kiss her delicate toes. He flipped open the cover of the little diary and found his place, cursing himself once more for being a glutton for punishment.

Really, you would think being the most powerful sorcerer in the realm, he could use a wee bit of magic to keep his home clean.

Rumpelstiltskin quirked a brow in annoyance. "Really, dearest? I had to give you something to do. What did you think you were going to do while living here, lay about eating chocolates?"

Not that I mind. The tasks he's assigned me keep me busy which makes the day go by quickly. I especially like being able to experiment with meals in the kitchen. The time I spent under the watchful eye of Mrs. Potts in our kitchens at home has certainly come in handy. My master was quite surprised to find I have a bit of talent in that area … even though he was reluctant to comment on it. Once the castle has undergone a thorough cleaning, I'm hoping I might have some spare time to bake a dessert … perhaps Papa's favorite chocolate cake with raspberry syrup. Rumpelstiltskin might like it as well.

He frowned and looked down at his stomach as it let out a resounding growl. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Had he eaten since he'd returned to the castle from that deal, since he'd sent Belle away? Did it really matter? Any food he ate would probably turn to ash in his mouth without his love to share it with.

I've been here a week now and I have found other reasons to weaken my resolve to remain positive. If I don't find a way to get a bath soon, I just may revolt. And this dress … if I had known it would become a permanent fixture in my life, I would have chosen something a bit more comfortable. I believe if I took it off, it would be able to walk by itself. I may have to swallow my pride and ask my master for something else to wear. I wouldn't even care if it was a burlap sack.

29th of September

That sneaky little imp! I would happily bludgeon him with a frying pan if I didn't fear the thought of being turned into a snail. Don't ask about that poor man who came seeking aid yesterday. After my master squished him … ew! ...The rug in the Great Hall will never be the same.

Where was I? Oh, yes. There is a hot spring in the very bowels of the castle … yes, this place goes even deeper than the level the dungeon is on. I happened upon it by mistake when I noticed the steam seeping beneath a door not too far from my own cell. The waters are deliciously hot, and I can't wait to have a bath. Just the prospect of being clean lifts my mood considerably.

Oh, did she have to mention the spring? He felt the leathers strain noticeably across his groin as he remembered the day in question and he shifted uncomfortably at the memory of her naked, glistening form surrounded by the water and steam far below the Dark Castle. He'd known she was up to mischief when he could find her nowhere within the castle walls. She hadn't been in the Great Hall dusting, she hadn't been in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, she hadn't been meddling in any of the rooms on the second or third floors and she hadn't been lurking about the corridors outside of his tower. There really had been only one other place she could be if she hadn't decided to hide herself away in the dungeon. And the dungeon had been a last resort as well, because he just couldn't see her wanting to spend any more time than necessary in the dank cell he'd allotted her.

His Belle had looked like a sea nymph, standing waist deep in the pool, her gleaming chestnut hair falling in limp waves over the bare expanse of her back. All that creamy alabaster skin had just been begging for his touch and his hands had itched to roam over her charms so openly displayed before him. He'd found himself wanting to join her in the water, to mold himself against her back and feel the weight of her breasts in his hands, to hear her gasp of surprise turn to one of pleasure as his lips marked her ivory throat, and to hear his name fall from her lips as he claimed her for his own. It had been sheer torture to remain hidden in the shadows and watch the happiness spread over her lovely features from the simple act of bathing.

Her clothes had been a little worse for wear and not quite dry when she had served him his dinner that evening, and he'd found himself unable to meet her gaze. For a week afterward, he hadn't been able to keep the heat from his cheeks at the mere thought of how glorious she'd been in the hot spring. Never had he been so thankful for the unnatural hue of his green-gold skin, thankful it would hide the deep blushes which plagued him in her presence. How could he continue to be her overbearing master with a blush riding his cheeks?

1st of October

My enigmatic master surprised me today and praised me for the cleanliness of his home. I must say, I wasn't expecting it. Today is Papa's birthday and it hasn't been easy for me to put it from my mind. I find myself more homesick than ever, but I don't want Rumpelstiltskin to know. I want him to think I've come to terms with my fate. Just sometimes I can't stop the tears and I succumb against my will.

I disturbed his spinning with my sobs this evening and he wasn't at all pleased. He is, apparently, unused to having to deal with a weeping woman. In what I thought was a rare display of charity, he conjured a pillow for me to use in my cell, but it turned out he merely wished me to use it to muffle my cries. Insufferable beast! I'm trying so very hard to please him and at the same time, find my place in his home, but I had hoped it wouldn't be quite so difficult.

Rumpelstiltskin summoned a tea tray and set the diary at his elbow, trying to read and prepare his cup at the time, unwilling to stop reading. If he'd been paying closer attention, he might not have spilled half his cup in his lap. He rose sharply to his feet, yowling in pain, brushing frantically at the hot liquid seeping through his breeches. Thankfully, not a drop had landed on the precious diary.

Someone broke into the Dark Castle. A thief, no less. He must be either really brave or really stupid. Who would have the audacity to steal from the Dark One? He carried with him a bow endowed with magic, foolishly thinking it would protect him from Rumpelstiltskin's wrath. The poor man has been removed to the dungeon. I can tell there will not be much sleep in my future.

He snorted over the rim of his tea cup at the memory of Robin Hood and his attempted thievery. He had to agree with his Belle. It had been foolish to try to kill the Dark One with only a bow and arrow, endowed with magic or not. He scowled down at the brew in his cup, once again wishing Belle were there to make him a decent pot of tea…and then perhaps sit in his lap and have a cup with him while he nuzzled at her sweet neck and … "Damnit!"

2nd of October

My beast of a master…the ass! ... has been torturing that poor man down there for hours. It doesn't matter what the thief did, no one deserves to be tortured. I don't know how much longer I will be able to stand idly by in the face of such brutality.

Later the same day:

I think I may have upset Rumpelstiltskin just a wee bit. What did I do, you might ask? I may have released his prisoner and he may have … sort of … oh, hell! He bloody well lost his temper and took me with him to hunt the poor man down. He didn't have to be so nasty about it.

When had she had time to write this and why was her handwriting so messy all of a sudden? Had she written this in the carriage? So that had been what she had been doing while he'd been concentrating on finding their escaped prisoner. He was beginning to think she was a bit obsessive with recording all the details of her life in a book. It made him wonder how many other volumes were stashed away in her father's castle.

This has got to be a show to intimidate me, to make me quail under the force of his power. He can't be as dark as they say even with a moniker like the Dark One. There must be some good in him. Granted, it would have to be buried really deep down, but it has to be there. I've seen the way he gets lost in his thoughts while spinning at the wheel. His features soften and there is such a look of sadness in his eyes, it tears at my heart. I refuse to give up on the idea there is a man somewhere hidden under the beastly mask he wears.

He tossed the diary on the table and buried his head in his hands in despair. Even when he was at his worst, she had seen the good in him. And he had accused her of betraying him. What if he was wrong and she hadn't been a tool sent by the queen to weaken him, to destroy him? No, he couldn't be wrong, he couldn't have thrown away his own happiness on a whim. He was certain he would uncover her lies in a future entry. He just needed to keep reading.

I am so tired, but it's a good type of exhaustion. The outing today to find the thief proved my theory correct. He is a man hiding behind a beast. I showed him that our escaped prisoner had good reason for trying to steal from him, that he needed the wand, needed magic, to save the woman he loved. He was reluctant to admit it, but I know Rumpelstiltskin spared the man's life so his unborn child wouldn't have to grow up without his father. There is a deeper motive my master is not yet willing to share with me, but I hope one day soon he will wish to let me in enough to trust me with his tale.

But I must admit, the highlight of my day was the very end. Rumpelstiltskin shared something with me more wonderful than I ever could have imagined. A library. His library. He knows of my fascination with the written word and brought me upstairs to gift me with the pleasure of his wondrous library. Now when I have some free time, I will have something I enjoy with which to fill it. My master is such a mystery and I believe it is going to be a joy to peel back the layers one at a time until I find what drives him to be as he is. Perhaps one day I will be able to call him more than master. Perhaps one day I can call him friend.

The Dark One closed the journal and pressed it to his chest, his arms closing tightly over the tome. He ignored the tear which trickled from the corner of his eye and whispered one word to echo through the desolate corridors of the Dark Castle. One precious name, "Belle …"