A/N: Seriously, dearies, if smut is not your thing, don't read this chapter.

XVIII

Belle carefully clung to the ladder upon which she stood and tried once again to straighten the sword and dagger her father had given her as a wedding present into the brackets she'd hammered into the wall of Rumpelstiltskin's study. It had been a month since her husband had brought her home to the Dark Castle and she'd finally chosen a place in her home to place them. Her swordplay was a part of her past now. It wasn't as if she would need to continue with it as she knew Rumpelstiltskin would never allow her to defend herself against an enemy … not when he was seldom away from her and saw it as his duty to see to her safety.

She could have asked her husband to hang them for her, but he wasn't there at the moment and she didn't feel the need to wait. A delighted smile curved her lips as she thought over the last month and the joy she found in being his wife. It was blissful to be alone with him once more in their home without the disadvantages of servants and the intrigues of the court. It was just the two of them, free to spend time with each other, long walks around the estate, through the rose garden or the forest. Long hours were spent discovering one another, quiet talks in the Great Hall over tea or just sitting in front of the crackling fire in the hearth. Soft voices carried through the cavernous library as they lay curled around one another on the chaise reading to each other and languorous nights, limbs entwined as they gave in to the desire which burned between them.

If it weren't for the looming threat of the Dark Curse, Belle would say she'd never been happier. Yet fear of the unknown kept her awake at night wondering if the precautions he'd written into his life's work would be enough to keep the queen from destroying their happiness. She leaned back a bit and surveyed her work, leaning to the right and giving the golden short sword a nudge.

"Belle!?"

She inwardly cursed as she heard Rumpelstiltskin's voice, magnified by magic, reverberate throughout the lower floor of the castle. "In here, Rumpel!" she called, knowing she could be in the uppermost recesses of the castle and he'd still hear her. She grimaced. She'd hoped to have been done with this chore before he'd returned from Agrabah and his deal with the street rat who'd summoned him.

"Belle?" he queried, stopping short in the open doorway before rushing forward to stand nervously beneath the ladder. "What are you doing, dear?"

"Straightening these," she said, reaching further to try to get the sword to hang at the angle she was striving for. "They just won't —" Her words cut off as the sword tipped and began to fall. As her hand shot forward to grab it, she overbalanced and felt herself falling, closing her eyes and bracing herself for the inevitable impact. She should have known better as she landed safely in her husband's arms. She cracked one eye open, taking in his scowling countenance with a grimace.

"How many times have I asked you to stay off the ladder?" he asked, his arms tightening about her. A shudder ran through him as he thought of what could have happened had he not been there.

She curled her arms around his neck and twined her fingers in the hair at his nape before pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. "And perhaps I would listen if I didn't know you would always be there to catch me."

"What if I weren't? Would you listen then?" he asked, his tone sharp as he set her on her feet. "How am I to get any work done if I am constantly worried about you and what mischief you can make in my absence?"

Belle tilted her head to the side and studied him as he paced over to the ladder and banished it in a wisp of purple smoke. She knew the tense set of his shoulders and the twitching of his right hand had more to do with something besides her tumble from the ladder. "Would you like to tell me about it?" she queried softly, clasping her hands before her in a sign of patience.

"What?"

"Whatever is really bothering you." She picked her short sword up off the floor and held onto it to give her hands something to do to still their trembling. The fall had given her quite a fright and she didn't want him to know just how deeply it had affected her.

"I don't like to have my time wasted. Turns out the little simpleton who called me to Agrabah was a bit too noble to make a deal with the Dark One after all," he growled petulantly, waving a dismissive hand.

She arched a brow at him, seeing right through the flimsy excuse. "Feel better?" she crooned dryly in a low tone.

"No, dearie, I do not," he huffed, stalking to his desk and pouring himself a healthy measure of goblin-made fire whiskey from the decanter.

"Now, since I know very well the wasted deal is not what is bothering you, why don't you tell me what's really wrong."

He tossed the whiskey back, huffing out a sharp breath through his nose as the alcohol burned a fiery path down his throat. "I made the deal with the little cinder girl."

"Oh, Rumpel," she gasped, her eyes smarting with unshed tears. "H-How long do we have?"

Rumpelstiltskin looked up at his beloved, finally meeting her troubled gaze with one of his own. He was coming to regret the decision to be completely honest with her, seeing the pain of their looming separation in her cerulean gaze. "Six months, give or take."

Her shoulders drooped dejectedly, but she refused to let the tears fall. She was the wife of the most powerful and renowned sorcerer in the realm; she couldn't afford to show weakness. "So, it has begun. We have less than a year before the curse is cast," she said as she squared her shoulders with determination, stating the facts he'd shared with her.

"Yes."

"And you're certain this deal is going to land you in a cell? Why would James … er … David do that to you after you led him to Snow? It's rather bad form if you ask me," she said, pursing her lips into a pout.

He rested his hands on her shoulders, offering her comfort where there was none. "It's necessary, my Belle. We've been over this."

"It doesn't mean I have to like it, Rumpelstiltskin. Your grand schemes!" she fumed, trying to keep her voice level. It was what she'd been fearing. He would be imprisoned by the Charmings and she would be banished back to Avonlea under her father's protection and the unbreakable wall of magic about the kingdom to keep out the Evil Queen. She would be perfectly safe while her husband was forced to suffer. Over my dead body, she thought stubbornly.

A devilish smile curved his thin lips as he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a small bejeweled reticule. "I brought you a gift, my precious wife," he beamed, his voice a soft caress meant to soothe, all traces of the Dark One absent from his gentle tone.

"Rumpel, you don't have to bring me a gift every time you leave the castle," she admonished as he took the short sword from her hands and placed the small purse in her palm. "Although it is lovely."

"Pfft. I can spoil you if I so desire," he argued.

Belle dragged her gaze away from his warm amber eyes and tender smile and looked down at the purse in her hands. It was sky blue with a darker blue drawstring cord, small delicate roses and green vines embroidered along the edges. Someone had taken great care to craft it and Belle had to smile at the thoughtfulness of his gift. "It's lovely," she murmured, the fabric light as a feather in her hand.

"And it will come in quite handy no matter what land you find yourself in. I've placed a charm upon it."

"Did you?" she asked, raising her brows.

"Indeed," he nodded, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he took the reticule from her and opened it. He withdrew a gold coin from his pocket and held it up, showing her it was just an ordinary coin. One of his assuredly, but otherwise quite ordinary. He dropped it into the bag and cocked a brow as she listened, waiting to hear it land in the bottom. And she waited …. and waited …

Finally, she heard the coin come in contact with the silk lining. "What did you do?" she asked, a tinge of awe in her voice.

"This, my dear, is enchanted to hold whatever it is you wish to stuff into it. Anything you desire, without ever running out of space," he replied, his impish giggle trilling through the room. "It will ensure you can travel lightly and swiftly when the time comes."

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a shrewd look, a plan already forming in her mind … a plan she would formulate in detail over the next few months to ensure she got exactly what she wanted. Her husband wasn't the only sharp mind in this relationship and she'd prove it to him.

The sorcerer held out the light sword to her, weighing it in his hands as he admired the engraving on the blade and handle. "Why were you trying to hang this on the wall?" he asked, gesturing to the wall brackets as he decided a change of subject was needed.

She was silent for a moment, seeing through his ploy to distract her and then shrugged. "I thought it would be another treasure to brighten the study. It's not like I'll ever have another opportunity to use them." She moved away from him to retrieve the golden dagger from where it had fallen and brushed her fingertips over the blade with a sad smile. "It's of no importance, darling."

His weathered face fell as he took in the look of disappointment she tried so hard to disguise, realizing his wife was unhappy. "You miss it that much?"

"What? Sparring with Brutal?" she asked with a laugh. "I don't know … sometimes maybe. I gave it up when I came here with you the first time; I can give it up again."

"You shouldn't have to give up something you enjoy, m'Belle," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "You can spar with me."

"Rumpel, no!" she choked, somewhere between a protest and a laugh as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him, her short sword clutched in his hand. "Really, it's not necessary."

He giggled as he pulled her though the double doors and into the Great Hall, releasing her hand and taking a stance which was rather comical, though she'd never be quite brave enough to tell him so. A snap, a flourish and a whirl and the Great Hall was emptied of everything save the long dining table, which was now lying on its side atop the hearth rug. "There! That should give us more than enough room without having to go out into the cold."

"And just where are all of your treasures?" she asked, raising a skeptical brow at his theatrics.

"Upstairs … storage room … NOT important, dearest," he snarked, his hands fluttering before him. Belle had to bite down on her lip to stifle her amusement. "What's important is that we have a bit of fun this afternoon." He circled around her, his arms slipping about her waist to pull her back against his chest. "It will help you relax."

Belle melted into his embrace, heat unfurling in her belly, his voice sending a little thrill through her. "And by relaxing, you mean this little session will end in our bed, no doubt," she bit out in a seductive whisper, her eyes alight with desire.

"Perhaps," he mumbled teasingly, drawing out the 's' in a long hiss as his lips skimmed lightly over his mark below her ear. He grabbed her skirt and swished it about her legs, wrinkling his nose. "But this won't do at all." Another snap of his fingers and her skirts disappeared to be replaced with a pair of buttery soft breeches of brown suede and a white lawn shirt, her feet encased in a pair of flat-soled knee-high boots.

"Oh, this is nice, Rumpel," she said, turning this way and that to admire the way the breeches clung to her. "Much nicer than what I usually wear to practice my swordplay."

"Um …" he uttered, his tongue trying its damnedest to stick to the roof of his mouth as his eyes glued themselves to her delectable backside. "Maybe this was a mistake. This is going to be nothing but a distraction," he mumbled under his breath.

"Pfft," she scoffed, tucking the tail of her shirt into her breeches to get it out of the way. She felt practically naked without her hauberk. She extended her hand to him, silently asking for her sword, smiling when she noticed his distraction. "Well, this should be over quickly," she deadpanned.

Rumpelstiltskin snapped his gaze up to hers and narrowed his eyes. "Think so, dearie?" he snarked, conjuring his own weapons from the armory. He brandished a long-bladed dagger and a short sword which was an inch or two longer than her own. "I have the advantage of a longer reach."

"Brutal fights with a broadsword I can't even lift, Rumpel," she retorted, quirking a brow.

"Beside the point, Belle!" he snapped, turning away from her and moving into the center of the room. He watched her with an appreciative gaze as she practically glided to the center of the room. The demon caged at the back of his mind raised his head and sniffed the air, a wicked smirk curling its lips. This would never do. With a flourish of his hand, a mailed hauberk covered her torso, the links of chain mail draped sinuously on her petite frame from shoulder to mid-thigh. "Just in case."

"Just in case what?!"

He shrugged, trying not to let his worry show. "Accidents happen."

"Hmm," she hummed suspiciously. "You're afraid the beast might emerge in the heat of the moment?" she asked, easily reading the worry which wrinkled his brow.

His lips curled back over his ruined teeth, as he snarled, "Don't you worry about him, my sweet. I have him well in hand."

Belle concentrated her full attention on him, noting the faint trembling in his hands as he fought for control. She ran the blade of her dagger over that of the sword, sparks erupting and cascading to the wooden floorboards beneath her feet. "Do you?" she purred, pleased when the muscle began to tick away in his jaw.

"Careful, dearest," he purred, advancing on her and raising his sword, taking his stance. "This is supposed to be fun. You wouldn't want to provoke the beast," he retorted, his nose crinkling as he taunted her.

Belle smiled demurely, fluttering her long lashes at him as she moved into position. She held her left hand, dagger gripped tightly in her palm, loosely at her side and raised her right out in front of her. The unfamiliar short sword felt slick and smooth in her hand, the weight similar to the practice sword she used at home and it boosted her confidence that she could provide a worthy opponent for her husband.

The first clanging of the swords reverberated throughout the cavernous hall, causing an unpleasant ringing in her ears and a sharp welcome tingle of discomfort shooting up her arm. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and her eyes brightened with the thrill of battle as she met his blows with ease. He lacked Brutal's brute muscle and was able to deflect her blows where she could easily slip past the larger man and get under his defenses. Whereas Brutal worried he would hurt her, Rumpelstiltskin did not. He was confident in the chain mail to protect her and any wound he inflicted would instantly be healed by the protection spell contained within her ring.

Her husband was quick and lithe and had a style all his own and it was the best workout she'd had in … well she couldn't remember ever having had such a thrilling practice. And then he disappeared, materializing at her back, his dagger pressed to her throat.

"Cheater!" she cried, a breathless laugh escaping her parted lips. "I knew you would cheat."

"Actually, love, this is quite fair when your opponent is a magic wielder," he breathed, his tongue tracing the outline of her ear.

Belle melted back into his chest, catching him off guard … just before she brought her foot down into his instep, knocking him off balance, her right elbow jerking upwards to catch him in his nose. He stumbled backward, falling on his arse, a look of surprise on his face as he stared up at her. She held the point of her sword to his throat and smiled down at him. "I have the advantage. Do you yield?"

"Aye, love," he agreed, taking her hand and rising to kiss her soundly. "You fight well," he commended her.

"I had good teachers."

"Again?"

Belle beamed at him as she raised her weapons once more.

He held up a hand, tilting his head to the side as he held his tongue between his teeth in contemplation. "What would you say to a little wager, m'Belle?"

She cast him a distrustful look, her lips pursed as she weighed her answer. "What kind of wager? This doesn't involve me testing your newest potion on myself, does it?"

His eyes lit up at the memory of the last time he'd tested a potion on her and he couldn't bite back the giggle which burbled past his lips. "No, dearie, nothing like that. This will be fun."

"Exactly what you said last time," she pointed out. "What do you have in mind, Imp?" she asked, her curiosity overriding her better judgment.

He stepped closer, holding his weapons loosely in his left hand, tracing his index finger along her collarbone. "Each time I am able to disarm you," he purred, his voice dark with desire, "you will remove one item of clothing."

Belle's cerulean eyes widened in surprise. "You … you expect me to fight in my underthings?" she asked, her brows disappearing beneath the hair curling over her brow. He shrugged, his gaze traveling leisurely over her throat, pausing on her lips before finally meeting her eyes. "Deal," she whispered, her lips barely brushing his before she flitted away, smirking. "As long as you agree to the same and since you've already accepted, I expect you to follow the rules you set."

He giggled again, impressed with her teasing. He lifted his sword, but she pointed hers to the floor, leaning forward with a patient almost expectant look on her lovely features. "What?" he asked, pausing to wonder about her relaxed stance.

"Off with the vest, my darling. I've already disarmed you once," she cooed, chuckling softly as his mouth curled in a sheepish grin.

"So, you did, dearie. Very well." Slowly, his right hand smoothed over his chest to the gold clasps holding the black leather vest closed, plucking them open with lazy fingers, one by one. Belle's eyes darkened as she watched the careful movement of his long fingers, her tongue darting out to wet her suddenly dry lips. How did I never notice what beautiful hands he has? She bit her lip as he tossed the garment away to land beneath the window sill, leaving him in his leather trousers, silk shirt and knee-high boots. "Ready, precious?"

Her heart thundered painfully in her chest, her breath labored and uneven as she lifted her sword to meet his. This was something she hadn't had to concern herself with while sparring with Brutal or Gaston. It excited her to see the determined gleam in her husband's eyes, the desire he felt for her, the thirst only she could quench. A desperate ache formed between her legs and she cursed the breeches she wore for teasing the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, wishing it was his touch there instead of the soft suede. She was losing focus with each strike of his blade, her training deserting her when she needed it most. His sword came down sharply on her mail covered forearm and she lost the grip on her sword, the weapon skittering across the floor.

She lost her footing as pain radiated up her arm and it was only self-preservation which made her roll into his legs, taking him down with her. However, before she was able to make good her escape and regain her feet, he tossed his sword away and grabbed her wrist, pinning it to the floor as he crawled up her body to settle between her thighs, his dagger at her throat.

Rumpelstiltskin ran his tongue along her lower lip before nipping gently with his teeth. "Do you yield?"

She writhed beneath him, seeking contact with any part of him she could touch, moaning when his burgeoning erection pressed into her core. "Yes," she gasped, the word no more than a breathless whisper.

His tongue rasped over his mark on her neck as he tossed his dagger to the side. "I'm beginning to wonder if this game of ours was wise," he said, lapping at a trickle of blood along a scratch his dagger had made, pleased when the magic prevalent in her ring closed the tiny wound. "I didn't mean to hurt you, m'Belle."

"It's just a scratch," she shrugged, rolling from beneath him and pulling the hauberk over her head. "I've had worse."

"The devil you say!" he exclaimed, outraged.

"One of the perils of training with knights quite bigger than I am, Rumpel," she replied, retrieving her sword.

He sprang lithely to his feet and wagged a finger at her. "Ah, ah, ah, dearie. I believe you owe me your shirt," he taunted, his fingers going to the ties of her open collar.

"I already removed the —"

"The hauberk remains to protect you. I'll have the shirt if you don't mind." He circled around behind her, his hands going to the hem of the silk tunic and pulling it over her head. He pressed against her back, molding his hips against the swell of her arse to relieve some of the ache of his arousal. With an iron will, he tossed it atop his vest and replaced the chain mail garment over her head. He smoothed it over her breasts, smiling against her neck as he felt a shiver run through her. "Soon, precious, I will have you clad in nothing but this hauberk. How do you think it will feel … all this slinky steel … caressing your nipples, cold against your breasts, gooseflesh erupting all over your perfect skin?"

Belle whimpered, her hands covering his as he smoothed the chain mail over her hips and then slid upward to ghost over her breasts. She bore down on his hands, the steel links digging into her flesh through her thin camisole, the friction on the over-sensitive peaks sending a ripple of heat to the juncture of her thighs. "You can always concede defeat and let me claim my prize, Belle," he crooned against the shell of her ear.

She turned in his arms and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pushing hard against his chest, gaining her release. "It's not over yet, my husband," she warned daringly, laughing at his surprise as she bent down to pick up her weapons. The mental picture of him in nothing but his trousers, losing to her and having to give up that last piece of clothing spurred her on, her competitive nature overriding her desire … for the moment.

On it went, each growing more fervent in their strikes, becoming careless in their movements, driven to the point of mindless lust for the other. His shirt, her boots, discarded onto the ever-growing pile of clothes beneath the window, kicked carelessly out of the way of their heated sparring. His boots, her trousers…gone. And after each disarmament, they couldn't help but fall into each other's arms, the need to touch more than they could bear, yet neither willing to concede the final defeat and yield to the other.

Rumpelstiltskin pinned her against the wall, the tapestry at her back cushioning her against the teak paneling covering the stone. She yielded to him and he tossed his dagger aside, twining his fingers with hers and pinning her arms above her head, his knee finding its way between her legs. The friction of the leather against her center, against the quivering flesh of her inner thighs, had her crying out, the sound lost in his mouth as he slanted his lips over hers. His tongue thrust into the hot recesses of her mouth as his hips bucked wildly against her hip, unable to control the lust surging to his groin, his cock straining against the constricting leather until he couldn't distinguish between pleasure and pain.

His touch was no longer that of her gentle lover, but of a beast set on devouring its prey and it fueled her excitement to know she had driven him to this point, that she was slowly shattering his control. He transferred her wrists into one hand and slipped his right beneath the hauberk, his claws digging into the silky camisole and rending it from her body to drop into a shredded heap upon the floor.

He didn't know how much more of this he could take, his control deserting him at an alarming pace. He wanted nothing more than to claim her, take her, sate the lust which had him nearly growling with need as his teeth closed over the sensitive flesh at the juncture where her neck met her shoulder, careful not to hurt her as he suckled and nipped, a deep purple bruise blossoming on her alabaster skin. He released her hands, cupping her breasts, the steel links of the chain mail cool against her nipples, making them pebble and press into his palms. "Yield to me, Belle. For fuck's sake yield, woman!" he pleaded, a hint of desperation in his tone.

"No," she panted, her eyes blown wide with desire as she met his gaze. Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk as she fought to regain control over her labored breathing. "I will not yield."

The look he gave her was feral in its intensity as his hand ghosted over her hip and then lower, pressing and rubbing the steel links against the scrap of lace covering her sex, his inner beast howling as she cried out and thrust her hips forward, seeking to draw out the pleasure of her husband's touch against her sensitive flesh. He toyed with her, drawing her closer to the edge until she was clawing at his chest and shoulders in desperation to fall into the crevasse. Then he stepped away from her, breathing heavily as he acquiesced to her wishes, groaning as he bent to retrieve his sword.

He closed his eyes as he lifted his hand, the scent of her arousal strong, savoring the taste of her as he slipped his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean. Belle moaned from the sheer eroticism of the gesture and her hands trembled as she retrieved her own weapons. One last round. One last round and one of them would be forced to yield. Either way, they would both be victorious, the prize worth the torment they suffered.

Belle bit back a cry as she took her stance and the hauberk rubbed against her bare nipples, the pleasure rippling through her, spreading out to her fingertips and toes and back to settle between her legs. Never had she had to fight in this condition where she could feel every single nerve in her body sing with need. It was the ultimate test to her strength of will … a will which was rapidly failing her. Winning was becoming less important as her sword met his. He was no longer toying with her, no longer playing the game. No, he was putting forth more effort now, slowly battling away at her strength, the desire to have her driving him to unleash the beast.

Belle faltered, her right knee nearly buckling as his sword came down heavily on hers, his movements rapid, the veracity of his strikes sapping away at her strength. A tingle of fear rippled up her spine and the metallic taste at the back of her throat warned her before it happened. She slipped, and her dagger flew from her hand as she threw it up, palm outward as his sword came down towards her undefended shoulder. But instead of the pain she expected, a bright white light erupted from her palm, striking him in the center of his bare chest to send him hurtling over the overturned dining table to land on the hearth rug.

She sobered instantly, staring down at her hand as if it were an unknown entity attached to her arm before coming to herself and running across the short distance, leaning over the table to find him lying unharmed, sprawled across the rug. "Oh, gods, Rumpel!" she cried, climbing over the table to kneel at his side. "I didn't mean it … don't know what happened … so sorry." It all rushed out of her in an inarticulate jumble.

The Dark One's eyes flew open and he drew in a sharp breath before grabbing her upper arms and hauling her across his chest, his tongue delving into her mouth as he rolled her beneath him. "You protected yourself, the ring sensing your fear and responding accordingly," he rasped, trailing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and over her throat to nip at her collarbone, pulling her legs to wrap about his waist as he pressed into her.

The chain mail was in the way, his pants, were in the way. He needed her now, needed her heat to wrap around him, center him, bring him back to himself. "Please, please, please," he whispered, nearly incoherent in his desire to have her. "Need you, Belle …" he groaned, thrusting against her, desperate to hear her yield to him, to let him claim his prize, her prize …he didn't care who would claim victory when in the end they would both win.

"Yes! Yes, Rumpel," she moaned, her own desire to have him fill her more than she could bear. No more games, no more denying him what he needed when she was just as desperate to have him.

With a whisper of magic, he vanished their remaining garments, unable to bear the thought of having to release her to remove their clothes. She whimpered softly as he easily slipped into her dripping folds with a hard thrust, her head thrown back and her lips parting in a silent scream of pure pleasure. Her inner walls clenched around him and a low feral growl rumbled in his chest, driving him on as he set a bruising pace, the culmination of their tortuous game.

"R-Rumpel … love you," she cried, the sound getting lost between them as he covered her lips with his, searching out every crevice of her mouth which made her keen and moan and cry for him. Her pleasure was written across her lovely flushed features, heard in every sigh from her lips and it drove him on, pure male satisfaction that he was pleasing her making his heart swell with more love for her.

She wrapped her legs tightly about his waist, giving him a different angle, allowing his to thrust deeper, a keening cry ripping from her throat as he brushed against her clit with each stroke. Her nails left deep scratches in his back as she fought to hold onto him, never feeling as if she could get close enough to him as he pounded into her. Her hands slipped into the damp curls at his nape, fisting his hair between her fingers as her lips found the salty flesh of his shoulder, her teeth scoring the tendon as she bit down, her climax ripping through her as he howled his pleasure in her ear. She clenched and spasmed around him, drawing him deeper, urging him closer to the precipice until his body seized, the force of his orgasm making him cry out, jerking against her as he spilled himself within her. "I l-love you, my Belle. My precious wife." he panted, raining kisses over her face as he clasped her to him, never wanting to release her from his embrace.

"What in Loki's name are you doing back there?" a cold voice filled with suspicion and a hint of disbelief asked, the sound carrying through the cavernous hall.

Rumpelstiltskin's head shot up, his mouth gaping open incredulously. "FUCKING HELL!" he cursed, sending a fireball over the edge of the table without caring if it found its target or not.

Regina shrieked, ducking out of the way, feeling the hair at her left temple crackle and singe, searching the room for some place to take cover. Belle whined in protest as he slipped from her, already missing his warmth. She was a bit concerned as she took in the rage marring his features and she reached out to him, smoothing her hand over his jaw. He leaned into her palm, willing his frantic breathing to return to normal so he could face the queen.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her brow, trying to convey the importance of her keeping silent for a moment longer. He conjured a blanket and covered her before rising to his knees to peek over the edge of the table, his eyes nearly black with rage and his wrath begging to be unleashed upon their unwelcome visitor. "Don't you ever knock, dearie," he hissed.

The look of utter disgust on her face was priceless as her dark eyes raked over his mussed hair before trailing down to his naked chest and the rapid rise and fall caused by his labored breathing. She covered her mouth, a faint green tinge coloring her waxen features. "Oh, gods!"

"Whatever is the matter, your majesty?" he asked in all innocence, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter at bay.

"You … you … ick!" she gagged, turning her back on him. "Can't you at least cover yourself!?"

"What's wrong? Never walk in on anyone having sex before?" he asked, an amused smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he waggled his brows at her, reveling in her discomfort. "This is my home after all. I don't pop in on you and tell you how to conduct your romantic liaisons."

"At least I confine my exploits to my bedroom!"

"Aw," he trilled, a look of sympathy crossing his face. "Not the adventurous sort then?"

Regina screeched in outrage, wishing she'd stayed home. Muffled laughter reached her ears and she whipped back around to see a very feminine hand caress his cheek, the imp's usual smirking countenance transforming into one of loving adoration as he looked down at his bed partner. It flummoxed her to the point where she felt dizzy, and curiosity burned in her stomach like acid as she wondered who it could be since she'd effectively destroyed the Dark One's relationship with his little maid.

He held out his hand and a shirt from their pile of discarded clothing zoomed across the room to wrap about his arm before handing it to the girl still hidden by the table. His sneer returned as he gave the queen his attention once more. "So, what do you want, dearie? And I swear if you've come here to complain about Snow White and her princeling, I will forcibly remove you from the castle," he warned, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"No," she snorted. "Snow is the least of my problems. I've come for the curse you promised me, and an explanation."

His brows drew down in a frown. "I beg your pardon?"

"I want to know what I ever did to you heinous enough for you to send that woman and her daughters to my court!" she raged. "They're horrible! I haven't had a moment's peace in a month. The second they stepped foot into my castle, chaos ensued."

He retrieved his pants and pulled them on. However much he relished the idea of Regina's discomfort, he felt at a disadvantage. He stood up and perched a hip against the side of the table, crossing his arms over his chest. "Surely they can't be that bad," he scoffed. "All you have to do is marry them off. I'm sure you can find someone to take them off your hands, so cease your complaining. And you've done plenty enough to incur my wrath."

Regina's smile reeked of malicious glee. "Oh, come now. You're not still on about your little maid, are you? I'm sure Margie or Verna … whatever her name was is happily settled down with that lummox fiancé of hers by now. Probably even expecting their first child."

Belle rose to her feet and glared icy daggers at the queen, taking small comfort in the shock written on her face. She stepped into Rumpelstiltskin's outstretched arm and pressed herself against his side, her arm slipping about his waist. "My name is Belle, dearie," she sneered, smiling tightly at the queen.

"And I'll thank you to watch your tone when you speak of my wife," the Dark One growled menacingly, thinking it wasn't too late for a little target practice with his former student.

"You married her? But —" the queen screeched irately.

"Your little plan failed, Regina," Belle proclaimed, satisfaction dripping from her voice. "You cannot stop true love, only delay it a bit."

Regina clenched her jaw, focusing her ire once more on the Dark One. "My curse, if you please."

Rumpelstiltskin held out his hand, a wisp of crimson smoke dissipating to reveal a small cedar chest with runes etched into the lid. "Here you are, your majesty, as promised. Now you can shut yourself away and plot out every little nuance of your revenge against Snow," he sighed, holding out the chest to her.

She couldn't hide the excitement in her dark gaze as she clasped it in both of her hands … finally, the object of her stepdaughter's destruction within her grasp. However, she couldn't resist one last dig at the girl who'd ruined her plan to strip the Dark One of his power. "Don't get too comfortable, dear. Love is fleeting … a weakness, but power is eternal."

"That's so sad. Power is fleeting, Regina; love is eternal. I suggest you re-evaluate your life before you end up a bitter, lonely old crone with no one to mourn your passing," Belle said, unable to feel pity for the woman who'd sought to take her love from her.

Rumpelstiltskin gathered Belle close as Regina clutched the curse to her chest and disappeared in a plume of blue smoke. "You shouldn't provoke her, dearest. She'll only try harder to come between us."

She wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him down to meet her lips, pouring her heart and all her love into the kiss. "You took a chance with your heart, Rumpel, deciding to put your faith into our love. You trust me not to hurt you and I will never give you cause to doubt that. As long as we have each other, trust each other, there is little she can do to us."

"I know you didn't want me to give the curse to Regina, but —"

"It was necessary to find your son, Rum. I understand your need to find him," she murmured, her soft tone a balm to his senses.

Rumpelstiltskin stroked his hand over her hair, the silken strands slipping through his fingers as he sighed and buried his face against the crook of her neck. "I won't let her harm you, sweetheart, I promise. I've written it into the curse where I will always have you at my side. No matter what she tries to do, as the creator of the curse, her will cannot supersede my own."

"I trust you," she whispered, tugging gently at the ends of his hair and smiling when he lifted his head to meet her gaze. "In the meantime, we must prepare for whatever may or may not happen. Together."

A/N: Well, I hope y'all enjoyed it … really, I do. One more chapter to go my loves until we bid adieu to this tale. I hope you've liked it so far and I would love to hear what you think …xoxoxo

I'd also like to thank those of you who reached out to me while I was in the hospital over the past four days. Y'all are so awesome! *love and hugs*