By Blood and Darkness

Part 2

Memories and Birthdays

The day was a double-edged sword. It was, on the one hand, Belle's birthday and the castle was alive with preparations for a serious party. It was also the anniversary of her mothers death and as many times as she had asked her father not to celebrate, he never listened. She supposed this was his way of coping and therefore did not complain.

She was holed up in the library, hoping that perhaps with all the people arriving they might actually forget her. Yes, it was unlikely since the party was, in fact, being held for her, but she couldn't help wishing.

"It would seem, my Lady, that you read excessively."

She didn't even look up from her book. "I don't think one is capable of reading to excess."

The Dark One moved further into the room. "Should you not be welcoming your guests?"

Belle snapped, raising her head and glaring at the man who had intruded on her privacy. "What the hell do you know about it? Don't you have anything else to do?"

His eyes widened for barely a second before his face fell back into a sneering mask. "I touched a nerve. Women are so strange about growing older."

"I couldn't care less about growing older," she said, tears threatening to break free. "Please go away."

The Dark One tilted his head to the side in confusion. "I have upset you. That was not my intention."

Belle dropped her head, the words of her book swimming as tears welled up in her eyes. "I really do not care to talk with anyone at the moment. Please."

He was at a loss. Since long before he became the Dark One no one had ever used the word 'please' when requesting something. He was familiar with 'now' or 'hurry' but never 'please.' There was something about this girl ...something he had never encountered before, something different and although he had never been good dealing with weepy women he found he did not wish to see her cry. His voice softened. "What ails you, child?" He shook his head. Where in the realms had that come from? He didn't care what was wrong with her. It made no difference ...at least, it shouldn't. He did not, however, leave the room. He stood in front of her waiting to see if she would answer him. It was so confusing.

Belle snapped at him. "I am not a child." She was making an attempt to sound angry, but the sadness was clear in her voice.

"Indeed." He should have left. He meant to leave. He had every intention of leaving and yet, he didn't. He dropped down in front of her, balancing on his haunches, staring at the young woman weeping in front of him. "What's wrong, Belle?" He stopped short. He had no idea why he kept asking or why he was being nice at all. She was his owner, he was her prisoner. And yet while he knew he should feel as much hatred for her as he did her father, there was something there that he could not place.

She spoke so softly he almost didn't hear her. "My mother."

Her mother? He had not seen another Lady about the castle. Granted he had not really been overly curious about the inhabitants to begin with, but surely he would have noticed his owners wife.

"Is she ill?"

Belle glanced up. She had never been able to talk about her loss to anyone. It hurt her father too much to speak of it and most of the servants had never known her. "She died."

The Dark One paused briefly and then reached up and pulled the hood from his head. He watched her with a mixture of fear and sympathy. "Today?"

Belle nodded. "On this day, 20 years ago." She looked back down at her hands. The pain of loss flared inside her, a sharp, ragged wound that was torn open on a yearly basis and never given the chance to heal. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she did nothing to stop them. She had never cried over her mother. Had never faced the emotion of knowing her birth had ultimately caused her death. That no matter what anyone else said, it was her fault. Logically, she understood that she should not feel responsible, but she did and she had never really faced her guilt before.

The Dark One shifted slightly and reached for her. Belle had no idea why she accepted his pity. Perhaps it was her own guilt that pushed her off her seat and into his arms. Whatever the reason, she found herself weeping into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around her and for the first time in years she felt peaceful.

He said nothing, simply stroking her hair and letting her cry. Inside, his mind was screaming at him to get away from her. To not revel in the feeling of a woman in his arms, to not notice the sillky softness of her hair, to not enjoy the warmth and fresh scent of lavender. This was a recipe for disaster and yet, he could not bring himself to release her.

Slowly, the tears subsided and Belle realized she was still in his arms. She pulled away and stood up, straightening her dress; relieved when he did the same. They stared at one another in awkward silence. He looked different somehow. The usual sneer he wore was gone; his face suddenly filled with emotion. His eyes were softer as if he understood what it was like to lose a loved one. It made him look more human, less the monster of legend. Knowing he had a heart that beat within his chest made her want to reach out to him. Belle shook herself. This line of thought would get her in trouble. The Dark One did not have a heart. He was not human. And yet ...she had felt it beating under her cheek as he held her, as he gave her something she had needed for so long. He had given her the ability to grieve. "You don't have to console me, Dark One. I can take care of myself." It was a dismissal, and he knew it, but he did not walk away.

"Rumplestiltskin."

Belle looked up. "What?"

"I do have a name. I have not always been the Dark One."

Belle was stunned. "You said names have power."

He nodded. "I somehow doubt you will be involving yourself in dark magic."

Belle actually grinned and he felt some kind of strange satisfaction that he had managed to make her smile. "You never know."

Rumplestiltskin turned and made his way toward the door of the library. "But I do know," he said, and then he was gone.

Belle stared at the door for a long time. She was not sure what had just happened. Why would he be nice to her? Why give her his true name? Was he trying befriend her so that she would betray her father and give him back his dagger? She scoffed. Well, that wasn't going to work. She would never do anything to hurt her father. She would simply have to stay away from Rumplestiltskin from now on. There could not be friendship between them. She didn't even know if he was capable.

There was a knock at the door and Belle felt her heart speed up. Had he returned? Her father stuck his head in the door. "The guests are arriving, my girl." She chided herself on the feeling of disappointment that washed through her. No one had ever benefited by expecting the Dark One.

Belle sighed. "I'm coming Papa." She looked up and gasped. Her father looked awful. There were dark lines under his eyes and he looked more tired than he had the day before. "Are you well, Papa?"

He tried to smile. "As well as can be expected."

It was the first time he had made any reference to Belle's mother. He looked so forlorn that Belle crossed the room and embraced him. "You know you don't have to throw a grand party every year."

Her father sighed. "I would not have you mourning on your birthday, Belle. It should be a day of celebration."

She knew arguing with him would be pointless. "Of course it is, Papa, but after the party I insist you rest."

He nodded. "I will. I promise. But now, let us celebrate. Gaston has just arrived."

Belle made a face. Gaston. Great. Just what she needed. "How long will you attempt to throw us together?"

Maurice pulled his emotions back into himself and smirked. "Until you agree to marry him, of course. You are 20 years-old. It is time. Just give him a chance."

"I'll be along in a moment," Belle said, not adding that she had, in fact, given Gaston several chances. He was emotionless, egotistical and shallow. On her list of things she wanted in a husband, these did not qualify. She needed someone who would treat her as an equal, someone who would be her partner and not her master, someone who could offer her comfort and above all, someone she loved. Her mind drifted back to Rumplestiltskin. What had he lost in his life that made him feel empathy toward her? How long had he been alive? If she remembered correctly, the Dark One was immortal. How many times had he watched someone he cared about grow old and wither away? She felt sorry for him and that, in and of itself, was extremely dangerous. One did not grow attached to the most powerful dark Sorcerer in the realms. Certainly not when he was enslaved to your own family. But Belle had always been somewhat strange and she couldn't help feeling that underneath all that bravado and sarcasm was a man who was hurting. The gods help her, she wanted to know that man, to ease his pain, to offer him what he had given to her. The chance to grieve.

#

The party was in full swing by the time Belle reached the ballroom. She glanced around, nodding at those who caught her eye and was about to find somewhere to hide when a large arm crept around her waist. "Happy Birthday, Belle." Gaston smiled down at her and she tried not to roll her eyes. He didn't seem to notice her irritation because he leaned toward her as if he were going to kiss her. Belle slipped out of his clumsy embrace and put a hand on his chest.

"Thank you, Gaston."

He did not seem to either notice or care about her obvious attempt to push him away. "You look beautiful."

Belle wanted to snark at him. How would he know if she looked beautiful if his eyes never lifted from leering at her cleavage? In the end she simply smiled as was appropriate for a lady of her station. "Thank you again."

Gaston grabbed her hand. "Let's dance." It wasn't so much a question as an order and with his vice grip on her fingers, she had little choice. He pulled her into his arms and Belle couldn't help notice how different it was. How much less inviting his arms were as compared to Rumplestiltskin. He smelled of beer and smoke and every time he spoke Belle had to turn away from his breath. The Dark One had smelled like the forest, fresh, like a spring rain and underneath was something else, spice or musk that must simply be him. While his teeth had seemed rotten, it had turned out to be only appearance. Like his face and his eternal sneer, it was meant to intimidate, to tell people not to get too close.

When Gaston pulled her flush against his chest, she had finally had enough. She pushed away from him. "I need some fresh air. If you'll excuse me."

He simply nodded and walked away. Belle was both relieved and irritated at the same time. Wouldn't a gentleman at least make an attempt to walk with her? Not that she wished it, but had he not been schooled in how to treat a woman? She glared at his back and walked outside.

When she finally pulled in a breath of fresh air she felt a hundred times better. She hated parties in general and this one specifically. There were too many people in a confined space and she had always felt uncomfortable, wishing instead that she could hide herself away in the library. Within her books she went to so many different places, met so many different people and it was enough ...for now. Someday she hoped she would be able to do some of the things she read about. But that would require getting married and being out from under the scrutiny of her father. Unfortunately, should she marry, she would then belong to her husband. It was a catch-22. One she had no idea how to get away from.

"For someone having a party you certainly spend a lot of time away from your guests." Rumplestiltskin was behind her, leaning against a wall. "I cannot believe that oaf you were dancing with allowed you to come out here alone. Bad things happen in the darkness, my Lady."

Belle almost laughed. What did it say about Gaston that the Dark One had better manners than he did? "Are you to escort me then?"

Rumplestiltskin pushed away from the wall and proffered his arm. "It would be my honor."

Belle stifled a giggle and took his arm. "Why are you being nice to me?"

He looked honestly confused. "I do not understand, should I not be?"

She shrugged. "I suppose I assumed you would be angry."

"Ah .." he said, turning them down another path out of the sight of the ball room doors. "I would imagine I will be ..." he paused and then plowed ahead. "Enslaved to your family for a long time. It would make no sense to be consistently hostile."

Belle dropped her head. She didn't want him to feel like a slave. She had no idea what it was she did want, but not that. "I'm sorry."

He stopped, turning toward her. "For what?"

"That I cannot offer you freedom."

Rumplestiltskin laughed. Not that high-pitched giggle that grated on everyone's nerves, but a full throated laugh that rumbled in his chest and made his eyes sparkle. "Oh, Belle, you are simply too good. I would advise you against ever giving me freedom. I do not enjoy the thought of taking your life, but I will if I have to. Do not think for a moment that my ...kindness toward you would in some way spare your life should I be given the chance to get away."

For some reason, this declaration made Belle feel sad. "So there is nothing more important than escape?"

He considered her, and then held out his hand as the orchestra began a new song. "Shall we?"

She knew he was avoiding the question, but let it go in favor of stepping into his arms. He was as he had been that afternoon. The fresh smell of leaves and dirt, a hint of musk. He twirled her around several times until she was gasping and laughing. "Where did you learn to dance?"

Rumplestiltskin answered without thinking. "When I was a lad there was little else to do for enjoyment. Our village had no books to speak of." The music slowed and he pulled her closer, breathing in the scent of her hair. He felt her shiver. "Are you cold?"

Belle looked up and their eyes met. He was mere inches away and it was mesmerizing. The hand at her waist tightened as she leaned closer, but he did not move, nor did he push her away. Belle was lost in the moment, so very close to this mysterious man and yet she still knew practically nothing about him. It was dangerous and exciting and they were so close now she found herself wondering what he would taste like. He started to close the remaining distance as her forward motion slowed.

"Belle?" They leaped apart at the sound of Gaston's voice and stared at one another in both confusion and desire. A cloud of purple smoke engulfed the Dark One but she was certain she heard him cursing his luck just before Gaston walked into the clearing. "There you are. I was afraid you had gotten lost."

She was flushed, her lips tingling from a kiss that never was and she could still feel Rumplestiltskin's arms wrapped around her. Could see the nervous excitement in his face when he realized she meant to kiss him. He had wanted it as much as she did and try as she might, as she and Gaston returned to the party, she could not get Rumplestiltskin out of her mind.