XV

Go … have a drink, she said. It'll be fun, she said. It's a tradition to go out with your future in-laws and have a drink the night before the wedding, she said. Rumpelstiltskin snorted and tossed back the goblin-made fire whiskey in his cup. He was most definitely NOT having fun. Did she not know the first thing about his definition of fun?

This was a disaster in the making and if he never saw his in-laws - or their friends again - it would be too soon. It had started out innocently enough with him being escorted to the pub in the village. He was rather surprised the king - both of them, god's forbid – had decided to join them. Why they hadn't just wanted to crack open a barrel of ale right there in the castle was beyond him. Probably because it would have been easier to sneak away from their little party.

This evening had gone straight into the gutter the moment Belle had kissed him goodnight and been led away by the ladies Hope and Abigail with the promise he wouldn't be able to see her until tomorrow when she walked down the aisle. What a load of hogwash! And now he was supposed to partake in a bit of drunken revelry? Indeed! If he had to sit here much longer and listen to Maurice and Midas sing one more round of There was a fair lassie named Lida ,he might just pull his hair out. Apparently, the sovereigns couldn't hold their liquor for squat. Frederick looked as if he wished he were once again a golden statue, Gaston had a moony expression on his face - no doubt pining away for his lady love - Brutal was passed out on the bench and Jefferson … well, Jefferson was being Jefferson and right now he was the sanest of the bunch.

"Your turn," Jefferson guffawed loudly, passing the cup with the dice to Rumpelstiltskin.

"I don't want to play anymore. I've had my required drink …"

"… or five," the hatter intoned.

"… and I'm ready to quit this place," Rumpelstiltskin grumbled.

"It's not that bad."

"And if the minstrel plays that bloody song once more, he's going to find a new residence in the palace rose garden!"

Jefferson beckoned to the serving wench to bring another round and sat back on his side of the bench to take in his friend's foul mood. "You should be enjoying your last night of freedom, Rum. What's wrong? You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

A dubious smirk curved the imp's lips as he arched a brow. "No, Hatter, I am not getting cold feet. Why would I when tomorrow Belle will be mine, our union blessed by the gods. No one will be able to take her from me then. The only thing that will stop the wedding is if Belle comes to her senses and realizes she doesn't want to marry me."

"Aha!" Jefferson spat, dropping a coin into the barmaid's very ample cleavage. "Therein lies the crux of the matter."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're scared she's going to jilt you at the altar."

Gaston cracked open several peanuts, popped them into his mouth and protested, "No, Belle wouldn't do that." He leaned over in a conspiratorial manner, having taken a liking to the milliner. "You should have seen her when she came home. She was a mess. Never thought she'd stop blubbering about him."

Rumpelstiltskin narrowed his eyes on the knight. "It was a misunderstanding."

Gaston ignored the sorcerer at his own peril. "When she wasn't crying, she was cleaning. Never saw a gently bred woman of her station want to dust like that one."

Jefferson grinned and bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. "That was nothing compared to Rum —"

"Enough!" Rumpelstiltskin bellowed, causing the cups on the table to rattle.

Jefferson broke the silence, unafraid of antagonizing the imp. "Someone's got their leathers in a twist," he snorted, tossing back the remainder of his drink.

Rumpelstiltskin shot to his feet, having finally had enough. "Well, I can't say it's been fun … because it hasn't. Jefferson, make sure Brutus gets back home to Penelope, and don't let the little one see her father in such a state. The lot of you are going to be miserable at the festivities tomorrow and I can't think of more deserving fellows to have Thor's mighty hammer pounding away in their skulls." He turned to Maurice as the first peals of thunder sounded overhead. "Sire, your singing voice leaves a lot to be desired, so I will thank you for the drink and wish you a good evening."

He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and marched to the door, Jefferson's laughter ringing in his ears as he set out into the night. How could Belle have thought it would be fun for him to spend an evening with her family and their friends? He was the Dark One. The Dark One did NOT have a reputation for foolhardiness and ribald jesting … unless he was the instigator. The first drops of rain began to fall as he entered the castle, the thunder loud amidst the flashes of lightning.

It made him think of the storms which had plagued the region of his home and all thoughts of his disastrous last hours fled his mind. Belle hated storms. His footsteps quickened as he felt her first twinges of fear shudder through her. He could feel her fear just as acutely as if it were his own through the mark he'd left on her and he could only think of getting to her with all haste to soothe her. He hadn't thought the mark would bind them together as it had when he'd put it on her. He'd wanted only to use it as a link between them in the event she should find herself in danger, but now it was so much more. He could feel her emotions and deep-seated feelings she had no hope of hiding from him now.

He cursed the stairs he was forced to climb, gave up and magicked himself to the corridor where their chambers were located. The door nearly imploded under the force of emotion roiling through him, his only thought that of getting to his frightened beloved. Mrs. Potts shrieked as he stalked past her to Belle's closed bedroom door, her protests falling on deaf ears as the handle turned easily beneath his hand and he proceeded into the darkened room.

"Milord, you cannot go in there. Her highness has retired for the evening. It just isn't proper!"

It was as though she hadn't even spoken as his dark amber eyes searched through the muted light of the room, only the moonlight obscured by the heavy roiling clouds of the thunderstorm offering its weakest light. With a thought, the fire roared to life in the hearth, the brightly glowing flames helping to guide him in the direction of the soft sobs Belle emitted. He was at her side in an instant, his long strides taking him to her where she was huddled in the corner between the wall and her wardrobe. Mrs. Potts covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes filling with sympathy for her young mistress as Rumpelstiltskin swept Belle up into his arms and bore her over to the sofa set before the hearth.

Mrs. Potts closed the French doors which had blown open under the weight of the howling winds and then moved to fetch a blanket from the bed. She clucked disapprovingly as she wrapped it around Belle where she sat snugly on the imp's lap. "I thought she'd outgrown this fear of hers. It seems she has become quite skilled at hiding her insecurities."

"Fetch a glass of spirits for your mistress, woman, and be quick about it," he ordered, glaring at the woman he was destined to butt heads with until she obeyed. He would make sure she told him the entire story of his Belle's fears upon her return.

Belle struggled half-heartedly against his unyielding embrace. "Rumpel, go, I don't want you to see me l-like t-this," she protested, hiding her tear-streaked face from him. Her teeth were chattering, her limbs stiff and frozen in her fear and she bit down hard on her lip, drawing blood as another peal of thunder shook the castle.

"No, I'll not leave you, dearest," he vowed, settling her back in place on his lap and pulling the blanket about her in a more secure fashion. He pressed his lips to her temple and stroked the mess of curls away from her face, so he could see her better. "Would you care to tell me what has you so frightened? Is it the storm?"

Belle nodded and tucked her face into the crook of his neck, her hands fisting in the lapels of his dragon hide coat. "How did you k-know? I-I thought you were with P-Papa," she stammered, fighting to speak around the shivers wracking her body.

"I went, I drank, I left … thank the gods for that," he murmured the last to himself, praying she wouldn't hear. She didn't need to know how tedious he found her family and their idiotic traditions. "I was on my way back to the castle when I felt your fear and came here forthwith.

She pressed her ear hard to his shoulder in the hopes she could drown out the sound of the storm. "I-I'm happy I didn't ruin your evening for you," she said with a weak smile, trying for a bit of levity. "How did you know? That I needed you, I mean?"

He arched a brow at her and pressed his face to her crown, losing himself in the floral scent of her fragrant chestnut curls. He brushed his thumb over the mark below her ear and sighed softly. "It seems the closer we become, the stronger our bond."

She raised her eyes to his, frowning as she tried to wrap her head around this new information. "You can actually feel my emotions?"

"I can," he admitted, lowering his eyes and twirling one of her silken tresses around his finger. "Does this displease you?"

"No. I-I'm glad," she whispered softly, relaxing into his embrace. She squinched her eyes closed and bit down on her lip as the thunder seemed to grow louder.

"How long have you been frightened of the thunder, my Belle? And better yet, how did you manage to hide this from me for so long?" he asked incredulously. There were many storms which had passed over the Dark Castle and its vast lands, too many for him not to have noticed her fears.

Belle yawned and snuggled closer, the thunder seeming not so frightening now that she was safely wrapped in Rumpelstiltskin's arms. She knew no one was better suited to protect her from all manner of things than her mage. "I don't know … it seems I've always been afraid of the thunder. I don't really know why. And it was easy to find a quiet corner in the castle to shrink into when the thunder came. You would get lost in your spinning so often, you didn't really pay attention to what I was doing."

"I assure you, dear heart, I was always aware of you," he murmured passionately, squeezing her affectionately. "I watched you far more than I wanted to." He brushed his lips to hers in a feather light kiss and stroked his fingertips along her cheek. "You can't hide yourself from me any longer, sweetheart."

Belle shivered, the familiar heat which sprang up between them whenever they touched coiling pleasantly through her. "Nor do I want to." She curled her hand over his nape and pulled him in to her kiss, showing him just how much she meant every word.

"Highness!" Mrs. Potts scolded as she swept back into the room, a goblet of brandy in her hand. She handed it to Belle, taking in her furious blush and the imp's knowing smirk. "There will be plenty of time for that after you're married."

Rumpelstiltskin rubbed soothing circles along Belle's back when she sputtered after taking a sip of the fiery brew. "Easy, dearest, small sips."

"It tastes like the very flames of hell!" Belle gasped, giving him an incredulous look when he urged her to drink more.

"It will soothe you and help you sleep."

Belle glowered at him but did as he asked, realizing he was right when she felt warmth seep into her bones, making her languid and sleepy. The stress from the storm had worn her down, not to mention the day's activities, and she found herself fighting against the sleep which pulled at her. Warm and content, snuggled in her love's embrace, slumber came swiftly.

Rumpelstiltskin settled Belle against his chest and stared over the top of her head at the harridan who seemed to take pleasure in causing him discomfiture. "You have something to say? Out with it," he commanded shrewdly. No use beating around the bush with the straightforward woman.

"You have her heart. You don't deserve it," Mrs. Potts snapped, glaring at him as her knitting needles clicked furiously.

An impish giggled burst forth from his lips at her audacity. "You think I don't know that? Do you think for the first moment, I ever thought she would fall in love with me? Love was the furthest thing from my mind when I made my deal with her."

The knitting needles lowered to her lap as she studied the tender expression on his face as he gazed down at the princess upon his lap. "You nearly destroyed her when you sent her away. If you love her as you say, how could you hurt her so terribly? Where were you when she was locked up in this room crying her eyes out for you at all hours of the day and night? Where were you when she was out there riding her horse up and down the coast, pushing that animal and herself past their limits in an effort to free her mind of its torment? Where were you when she was out on the training field with knights four times bigger than her, stronger than her in her quest to pummel something, to hurt someone as badly as she was hurting? Answer me that if you can."

He was silent for a long moment. This was someone his Belle held very deep feelings for and he knew he wouldn't be able to just walk away without giving her an explanation. Really, Mrs. Potts was the closest thing Belle had to a mother. He shuddered, wondering if he would have had an even worse time of it trying to explain himself to Belle's mother.

"Do you not know anything about me, madam? I am not a man … I am the Dark One. I have lived for centuries and in all that time, the only people I have ever known have always wanted something from me. They never wanted to know me for who I was, never wanted to befriend me, never wanted to give anything to me. It may not be how I always wanted it, but it's what I had come to expect. Belle is the first person who never asked me for anything outside of our deal. Nothing but friendship, companionship and … love. It is so easy to love her, but I couldn't bring myself to believe she could want me, that she could love me in return. What happened between us which caused me to drive her away was a mistake. I thought she had conspired with my greatest foe in an effort to destroy me."

The woman arched a brow at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. "And, apparently, you learned nothing about the girl you carted off to the mountains, I suppose. Did she ever give you a reason to doubt she was being anything but honest and trustworthy? You need to learn … very quickly, Imp … that when Belle decides she cares for someone, she gives them her whole heart. Whether it be friendship or something more, she will give her whole self. I will not see her hurt again."

"Madam, are you threatening me?" he asked, genuinely amused by her.

Mrs. Potts chuckled and resumed her knitting. "Oh, no, Dark One," she sneered the title. "That wasn't a threat … that was a promise. You hurt my girl again and I've got a rolling pin with your name on it."

The matronly woman with her fierce pride and determination to protect her mistress wasn't bluffing. He could see it in her eyes as she stared him down. He had a newfound respect for this peasant born lady full of bravado. She meant every word and he knew she wouldn't hesitate to carry out her threats if he ever harmed Belle. She wasn't afraid of him, which should have been a blow to his ego yet wasn't. He looked down into the face of his sleeping love, her features relaxed in sleep and brushed a stray curl over her shoulder. "I will not hurt her, madam. I promise you this and I never break my word."

"See that you don't, Rumpelstiltskin."

*.*.*

Belle groaned as tiny little hammers chipped away at her head and banished the last vestiges of sleep, chasing away the pleasant dream which had held her in its thrall. A frown pulled at her brow as she pried her eyes open, her heavy lids not wanting to cooperate. "Rumpel?" she called softly. She had grown accustomed over the last several days of waking in his arms and she felt hollow and empty to find herself alone in her bed. A small whimper rose up in her throat as her insecurities washed over her. Her room looked as it always had and for a moment her disorientation made her think it all may well have been a dream.

"Rumpelstiltskin!" she cried, fighting off the panic which made her chest feel heavy with dread.

He appeared in an instant, a puff of violet smoke dissipating as his eyes searched her room briefly for any sign of danger. His warm amber gaze fell on her, his eyes narrowed when he couldn't find the source of her distress. "What? What's wrong?" he asked, his words almost indistinguishable around the toothbrush clenched between his teeth.

Belle's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in surprise, never having seen her beloved in such a state of undress. His silk shirt lay open, revealing entirely too much of his golden flesh to her eyes, a towel slung around his neck. His feet were bare, and the top laces of his snug leather pants were undone. She lowered her eyes and bit her lip as a fresh wave of heat assaulted her cheeks. "Um …"

He looked down at himself and quickly grasped his lagging shirt tails, pulling them together over his chest. If he didn't know better, he would think the heat rising to his own face was a blush. The Dark One does NOT blush! he thought irritably. He vanished the toothbrush back to his chambers and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Belle's hand in his. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"I woke up and … ah … you weren't here and …"

"… you thought it was a dream?" he asked, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I thought to let you rest as long as you were able this morning."

Belle huffed out a breath of air, the action causing a lock of hair to lift away from her brow. "I'm being silly, aren't I?" she asked with a sheepish grin.

He pulled her forward into the circle of his arms, her hands immediately carding into his hair as his lips found hers for a gentle kiss. "No, my Belle, not at all," he replied, pressing his brow to hers. "I hurt us both by sending you away and apparently it will take us a while to build trust between us again … trust neither of us will leave the other."

The smile which lit her face brightened the entire room. "Rumpel, we're getting married today!" she squealed with delight.

"Aye, love, that we are," he agreed, a genuine smile, one lacking his usual impish trickery, blooming on his lips as his arms wrapped tightly about her waist.

"That's debatable," a drawling voice answered from the doorway. "There won't be a wedding if you two can't pry yourselves apart long enough for us to dress the bride."

Belle laughed as Rumpelstiltskin buried his face in the crook of her neck and groaned at the interruption. She glanced over his shoulder as Abigail stood in the doorway, Hope at her side and Penelope standing just behind them … giggling … holding Belle's dress draped over her arms. "Yes, well … ah …"

Rumpelstiltskin released her and took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. "I will see you in a few hours. I'll be the one pacing nervously before the altar."

Belle smiled, all the love in the world shining in her cerulean eyes. "And I'll be the one in white dragging my reluctant father down the aisle." She pulled him into her once more and kissed him lightly. "I love you."

"I love you, dear heart," he whispered against her lips and poofed out of her presence to leave her to prepare for the biggest day of their lives.

*.*.*

Journal Entry 9th of June

I AM GETTING MARRIED TODAY! I never thought I would be so excited to tie myself to another person. But then, no one has ever touched my heart as Rumpel does. I always thought I would marry someone who would be forced upon me for some political union, someone who cared for naught but my title and what wealth I could bring to our joining. Now I have love and joy and happiness to look forward to in my future … and hopefully children.

I really don't think my ladies needed to scrub quite as hard as they did at my bath. My skin feels raw! Was that really necessary? I was scrubbed, oiled, and perfumed until I was ready to tear my hair out. Then … how bloody embarrassing … Mrs. Potts chased Hope and Abby from the room, so she could have THE TALK with me. I was hoping a hole would open up in the carpet to swallow me! It helped that Mrs. Potts seemed to be blushing just as badly as I was. I read. I know what to expect from my husband … or at least what I HOPE to expect from my husband. Since yesterday morning when he woke in such an amorous mood, he's been careful not to kiss me too deeply or touch me in a way which will escalate into anything too passionate. I wonder - if he hadn't sent me away - if he would have been able to practice such restraint.

I don't think for a second, he doesn't want me in that way. He's more than proved it with the way he touches me, but I have to say I'm looking forward to more. I want to know him fully, in every way possible and I won't let his insecurities interfere with that aspect of our relationship. It will take time for his self-doubts to fade, but I'm certain they will. I can be quite stubborn about things and I will endeavor to make him see I love all of him … the good and the bad. I just —

"Highness, put down that quill!" Mrs. Potts scolded, coming back into the room carrying a tea tray for Belle and her attendants. "There you are, still in your knickers, writing your life away instead of dressing."

Belle nipped her bottom lip and stared apologetically at the woman. "I just need to slip into my gown, Mrs. Potts. I still have time."

Mrs. Potts poured tea into three cups and left the ladies to prepare them as they liked. Hope plucked nervously at the crimson gown she wore as she daintily sipped her tea. "Stop fidgeting, milady, you look lovely."

Belle had chosen the crimson gown for Hope and a gold one for Abigail to honor her sorcerer's colors. "You do, Hope. Are you not pleased with your gown?" Belle asked, hiding a secret smile behind the rim of her cup. "I'm certain Gaston won't be able to take his eyes off of you."

Hope blushed prettily. "I'm just a bit anxious over what my mother might have to say about the color."

Belle's ire rose at the thought of Lady Beatrice. "Lady Bea can just …"

"Highness!" Mrs. Potts scolded.

"… er … just keep her remarks to herself," Belle amended what she really wanted to say about the old harridan. "You are now part of the court by request of the king. She wouldn't dare insult you."

"She wouldn't hesitate. After all, she is my mother."

Mrs. Potts rushed the girls through their tea time and gave Belle's hair one more onceover before nodding in approval. Her long chestnut curls had been formed into a mass of ringlets at her crown with several stray tendrils left to frame her lovely face and the effect was offset by a cluster of double delight roses and a gold ribbon. "Why did you choose these roses, highness? I'm certain your father had some pure white roses in the garden."

Belle turned her head this way and that, surveying the beautiful white roses with their crimson tips. "These are my favorite."

Abigail smiled at her in the mirror. "They are indeed beautiful," she agreed.

"I wanted something to symbolize us both. White roses signify purity," she said, blushing slightly. "And red roses signify passionate love. These represent both. I thought they would be perfect, and they just happen to match the band beneath the bodice of my dress."

Belle stepped into the gown, a beautiful concoction of tulle and silk with an empire waist and cup sleeves. The two-inch band beneath the beaded bodice was crimson with gold trim, something she'd insisted upon to add a splash of color to offset the pure white of the gown. The girls breathed a dreamy sigh when Belle was finally buttoned into her gown and stood ready to slip into her satin slippers.

Mrs. Potts sniffled into a lace handkerchief as she gazed at her princess. "I wish your mother could see you, dear."

Belle kissed her on the cheek and smiled. "I do as well. I think she would have liked Rumpel. She would have found him charming and witty."

"Oh," Hope exclaimed suddenly. "Do you have something borrowed and blue? Something new and old? Traditions must be observed, you know?"

Abigail retrieved a lacy blue handkerchief from her sleeve and held it out to Belle. "Here's your something blue."

"And the dress can be my something new," Belle added, smoothing her hand over her skirt.

Mrs. Potts left the room and returned moments later with a jewel case of deep blue velvet, opening it to reveal a choker with three strands of pearls to adorn Belle's ivory throat. "I think this will be perfect, dear. It belonged to your mother and can be counted as something old and something borrowed."

"Don't cry, highness!" Hope warned, thrusting forward another handkerchief to catch Belle's tears. "You'll smear your makeup."

Belle touched the pearl choker reverently, the thought of having a little piece of her mother with her on such a special day making her heart flutter painfully in her chest. Mrs. Potts clasped it about her neck and offered a watery smile.

"Only one more thing," Abigail said, pulling a coin from the small reticule she had tied about her wrist. "A sixpence for your shoe."

*.*.*

"Your cravat is crooked."

Rumpelstiltskin's glare was reminiscent of a thundercloud as he looked over at the hatter lounging against the doorframe of the imp's bed chamber. "And I suppose it's supposed to be perfect when I can't even look in the mirror to see what I'm doing, is it?!" How was he supposed to use a mirror when there was every chance Regina was lurking about trying to spy on him and glean some detail of what he was up to? He wouldn't take the chance of her ruining Belle's wedding day. He'd have to kill the queen if she dared pull such a stunt.

"Oooh, nervous, are we? Just a wee bit?" Jefferson remarked with a teasing smile. He pushed himself away from the doorjamb and moved to stand before his shorter friend, brushing away the Dark One's shaking hands and repairing the damage his nerves had caused to the snowy white cravat about his throat. He stepped back and nodded in approval at Rumpelstiltskin's appearance. Black knee boots, black leather breeches … Belle had insisted for some reason … white silk shirt, snowy white cravat, crimson and gold waistcoat and a white frock coat. "I never thought I'd see you wearing white. And it doesn't even clash too badly with the green gold skin."

"Hatter…" Rumpelstiltskin hissed warningly. Then his face fell. "I look presentable, don't I?"

Jefferson had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the usually confident sorcerer. "Belle is going to be more than pleased with your appearance. Stop worrying, Rum, the girl adores you."

"What if she comes to her senses and calls the whole thing off?" Rumpelstiltskin asked in a quiet tone. He concentrated his gaze on Jefferson's gold frock coat and crimson waistcoat, so he didn't have to see pity in his friend's grey eyes.

"Wild horses, thieving bandits and the castle burning to ash couldn't keep Belle from marrying you today, Rumpelstiltskin," Gaston said as he entered the room carrying a small box he'd just received from Mrs. Potts. He handed Jefferson a double delight rose and watched as he pinned it to the lapel of Rumpelstiltskin's white frock coat. He had two others, one for himself and one for the hatter.

Gaston would be escorting Lady Hope today and was dressed similarly to Jefferson with the exception that his coat was crimson with a gold waistcoat. Belle was a stickler for matching colors.

"See, Rum, nothing to worry about. In less than an hour, you'll be standing up in front of the entire court pledging your life to the girl of your dreams," Jefferson said, waggling his eyebrows.

Rumpelstiltskin pulled at the cravat around his neck, the cloth suddenly feeling a bit too tight as a litany of what ifs galloped through his mind. "What in seven hells could have possessed me to agree to this? I could have whisked her back to the Dark Castle and found a cleric to marry us on the way," he scoffed. "Why would I ever agree to all this pomp and ceremony? I'm a bloody fool!"

"No," Jefferson shook his head, ushering him out the door so they could make their way to the great hall which had been transformed into the venue for their wedding, the chapel not quite large enough to hold the court and their guests. "You aren't the Dark One today. You are simply a man in love who wishes to please his lady."

"You are doing her a service by sharing this day with her family and her kingdom," Gaston nodded regally.

Jefferson chuckled at the imp's disgruntled expression. "Come on, it won't be that bad. It's a simple wedding … what could go wrong?"

A/N: Well, I hoped you lot enjoyed it. Next is the wedding! Yay! Finally! I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter.