I do not own Once Upon a Time.
In the following days, Belle was debating with herself whether or not to follow the new orders of Regina Mills. If she did, would be betraying herself, would be betraying everything she believed was right or wrong. She was not a puppet to be conducted in accordance with the wishes of others. She was free to decide whether or not she wanted to do with her fate. But... If she decided not to obey the new rules imposed, it would not be the same as putting the lives of James and Mary Margaret at risk?
Perhaps she would find the answers she needed that night at the opera, where Gold would be present. That night would be decisive for Belle to put an end to her doubts and realize beside whom she should stay and who should trust.
That night she opted to wear a golden dress, which adorned her body perfectly, leaving her shoulders on display and that fell gracefully to the height of her heels. Around her neck, she held her necklace with a pendant tear, which belonged to her mother, who always brought her luck and safety.
She could hear the buzz of a glamorous audience throughout the Place de L'Opera, which consisted of high-ranking Germans, the Vichy government official and bourgeois population of Paris. The French militia stood guard at the entrance.
Although the scenario tonight showed that life followed its course normally, everything was just a fraud, a grim pastiche of how things really should be. Of course it was not the same... Nothing was what it used to be.
Belle waited anxiously for the night, although she wished it was not an opera of Wagner's works, but it was the kind of music that the Germans enjoyed more.
While James greeted some Germans on the path to the cabin, Mary Margaret led Belle by the grand staircase. Her eyes scanned the place around her carefully.
"Don't worry," Mary Margaret whispered to her. "James and I are here to protect you," said Mary, with her beautiful face opening up into a smile when Belle sat beside her in a comfortable velvet chair.
Gaston was the next to get to the cabin.
"Fräulein Isabelle" he said, after kissing her hand as usual. He watched her carefully. "Your dress is beautiful. The French ladies are truly the finest in the world. Perhaps, with time, German women will able to absorb a bit of the French elegance."
Gaston took a glass of champagne and, in doing so, the door opened again to reveal James and other German officials. Belle realized that Gold was not among them, and she thought what could be delaying the man.
She tried to hide the disappointment she felt and, luckily, the lights went out slowly before anyone realized, and the guests of the cabin sat. Gaston hurriedly took the vacant chair beside her.
"Like Wagner, Fräulein Isabelle?" Gaston said, while sipping champagne and put the cup back on the tray.
"He is not a composer that I know well, but I would like to formalize it with" Belle replied, diplomatically, although it was a lie. Like the books, she was a lover of music, and although respected the works of Wagner, the composer was one of the least appreciated by Belle.
Gaston would speak, but his words were swallowed by the dramatic opening chorus of Die Walküre.
Belle never liked Wagner, thinking that his music and his stories were too heavy. So she spent most of the time quietly observing the audience and the people who were there, trying to see if Gold was among them, but there was no sign that the man was there. What could have happened? Why he was not there?
She felt very uncomfortable being so close to Gaston, but what could she do? If, as James had said, her actions occurred towards a greater cause, should resign herself to swallow her disgust while Gaston slid his hand by her knee covered by the silk dress.
Gold said he would protect her, but where was he now? Belle could not stay any longer in that room, suffocating with the German so close to her. Discreetly, she excused herself, saying she needed to go to the bathroom, leaving the cabin.
Breathing deeply, she began to move away from that room. The halls of the opera were empty because everyone was watching the show inside the theater, and Belle could walk quietly, without being bothered by anyone. She walked quickly, not sure where she was going. Anywhere away from Gaston was enough.
Entering into a corridor opposite, she opened a door, believing it was the bathroom, but was met with a room that probably was not occupied for years, and that apparently served only to place objects that no longer had value or was damaged.
The window in the back of the room was open, allowing the moonlight illuminated the room subtly. Belle found the switch, but the light bulb was burned, and there was no other light source unless the one it was coming from the window, but was not needed more clarity to Belle realized something in the back parlor.
Near the window, lay a piano made of a dark wood and that was curiously adorned with small details of roses, the instrument was as black as the sky that night. Closing the door behind her, Belle ventured into the room, and slowly approached the piano, studying him curiously for a few moments.
Maybe it was locked, but the first attempt to open it, the lid gently bowed, allowing the black and white keys revealed to her. Sliding her fingertips gently across the keys, Belle realized how much she missed being able to play it.
As a child, she had piano lessons from her mother before she passed away. Soon she learned to play the most beautiful music but nothing compared to when her mother sat at the piano.
Belle and her father used to sit in the library at their home in London, just to listen to her mother. She could spend hours on end watching as her mother's fingers dotted the keys.
After the death of her mother, Belle never dared to play anything in the instrument, knowing that it would bring many memories of her beloved mother.
Hesitating, she wondered if anyone would hear her if she played anything, but she knew there was no one next to that little room. Without further ado, Belle sat at the piano and began to play.
As her fingers roamed freely the keys, a sad melody started being issued, filling every inch, every nook of that place. While playing, Belle remembered what her mother always spoke to her when she was practicing; anyone could interpret the most beautiful and difficult songs, but to convey a piece and did arouse the deepest feelings, they should be sung with soul and heart. Any piece she was playing, from the simplest to the most complicated, should be played with her whole being.
The sad melody of the Nocturne of Chopin filled every part of her soul, and Belle could feel the effects of the music making her relax. There, in the solitude of that place, Belle could get carried away by the false hope that everything was fine. There was no war, no danger, or any type of threat. No need to worry about the Germans, or James and Mary Margaret, neitherRegina or Gold. She was safe there. She was just there. Only she and her sad melody.
Her fingers walked slowly to the final notes, and when the song ended, she sat with her eyes closed, absorbing those precious minutes of peace.
"Lovely…" A voice came up behind her, making Belle lifted in single movement, startled.
Adrian Gold was standing near the door, leaning on his cane. Belle couldn't get a clear view of the man's face, which was hidden in the shadow, but Belle knew he was watching her intently.
"Mr. Carruthers! Forgive me, I didn't hear you enter." Belle felt her face flush. How long has he been standing there, just listening her play?
"I would call you, but I could never stop you," he said quietly, approaching her. "It's a beautiful music...".
"Thank you," Belle said, not daring to move, as she followed the man's gaze, seeing him approaching. Now she could get a clearer view of his face, but what she saw brought no relief. His features were distorted in a mixture of sadness and, Belle realized... Admiration.
"However, I must say it's a bit dangerous to play this kind of music, given the circumstances we live in, don't you think, dearie?" Gold asked. He was testing her for some reason.
"I don't see why it would be dangerous," Belle said, without fear. "Just because Chopin was Polish and the Germans still refuse to realize that his works are much more grandiose than what they usually hear? Excuse me, but I'm not afraid to play a Polish composer." She replied, without being hurt by the look that Gold launched her, showing surprise. "I'm not afraid of them."
Belle didn't look away from Gold, who showed again that strange glow in his eyes, that she liked to think be reserved just for her. But she shiver when she realized the man rather than away from her, but was ever closer, crossing her particular space. His expression, however was indecipherable. She could not understand the mix of emotions that went through the man's face. There was sadness, hatred, rancor... But there was also something beyond... Something much more intense and, Belle had to admit, extremely catchy.
Hesitantly, Gold touched Belle's face smoothly. His hands were not rough as she had imagined, but extremely smooth, which made her want to get closer to his touch rather than repel it.
"Oh yes, no fear at all..." he murmured, his voice a bit huskier than usual. Belle became more alert when he moved closer to her. That made her breathing became mismatching, and when he continued to approach, she could not ever look away from him; indecipherable black eyes that penetrated her deeply, as if he could see her soul. Finally the distance between them was broken when he, so gently, pressed his lips against hers.
She might have expected that his breath was rancid, but he just smelled of herbs and something else she could not decipher. Too early and too late at the same time, Belle realized what was happening and pulled away from the arms of the man, taking a great distance from him.
"Oh… I'm so sorry Mr. Carruthers" She felt her cheeks blushing heavily as she walked away, not daring to look at him directly. "I'm really sorry... Good night, sir," she said again, leaving the room, not expecting to hear anything he had to speak to her, but still, she heard a soft "good night, Isabelle." And that was enough to not only to be heard by her ears, but by her heart.
Belle returned as fast as she could to the cabin, where James, Mary Margaret and, unfortunately Gaston, was waiting for her.
During the remainder of the night, she became submissive to everything going on around her, giving brief answers to questions that were asked. After the end of the concert, she declined the invitation that Gaston insistent that she dine with him, claiming to be with a severe headache. Belle had not seen any sign of Gold in the Great Hall or in the vicinity of the square in front of the opera.
"I hope you recover soon, Fräulein Isabelle" Gaston said, while left them in front of the home of James.
"Come with me, Isabelle" Mary Margaret grabbed Belle's shoulders, leading her inside. "You look pale, my dear."
Belle couldn't resist to be conducted to her room even if she wants it to. She could not feel any part of her body, and she realized she really was not well.
"Are you okay, Belle?" Mary Margaret asked when she made Belle sat on the bed, watching her with concern. "You went to the bathroom and when you returned you looked like you'd been attacked by something." Belle thought wryly that actually she had been attacked... Attacked directly in her heart and in her soul.
"I'm fine..." she replied, without looking at the woman, afraid that the tears that were hanging on the edges of her eyes threatened to fall.
"Did something happen?" Mary Margaret said quietly, wanting to help her. But the only thing she wanted was to be alone and get lost in her thoughts.
"Mary Margaret, I wish to be alone... Please" Belle said.
"Okay… If you need anything just call me..." she said, closing the door, leaving her alone finally.
Belle sat on the edge of the bed and rested her face in her hands, sighing deeply.
What had she done? How she could let Gold kissed her?
She could never have allowed him to take advantage of her in that way. Why he kissed her?
Belle rested her fingertips in her lips. She could still remember the feeling when he kissed her. His lips were very soft and gentle, and that just complicates things more. How could she let that happen? He kissed her with such veneration...
No. She could not think that way... But why he kissed her? That was part of the nasty little game that he was playing to find out all about her, or Belle dared to imagine, could he harbored any feelings for her?
Of course not. Adrian Gold was not stupid in feed feelings for her. They were at war and he never trusted Belle. He would never surrender his heart to her.
Unfortunately, Belle realized that a part of her heart was already resting gently in the grip of that mysterious beast.
Some curiosities!
The title, The destiny symphony, is the name of Beethoven's 5th symphony. The BBC used to play the main notes of this symphony, meaning "Victory".
I have nothing against Wagner.
And for those who are curious, this is the song that was playing Belle: watch?v=tV5U8kVYS88
And, yes, I love classical music.
Please comment! :)