King Maurice grew weary of his daughter's malaise. He assumed, wrongly, that she was regretting the calling off of her engagement to Gaston, and was happily determined to rectify this. To this end, he announced a ball to his daughter.
"You should be happy with this. You always used to like a good ball. The dancing, the conversation, the merrymaking..."
"Papa please, I'm in no mood for 'merrymaking' right now". Belle toyed with the food in front of her and thought longingly of the kitchen's at the Dark Castle.
King Maurice put down his fork and looked at her over the spread of the breakfast table. "Of course you are, it's just the diversion you need. It'll be a masquerade. Everyone will be in costume. There'll be plenty of other nobles there to take your mind of what you could have had with Gaston..." Maurice's words faded into the background.
What she could have had with Gaston. Yes, a life of being an ornament on someone's arm rather than a person in her own right. Of course that's what she was pining for. Not the life she'd wanted with Rumplestiltskin and so nearly had. Despite the terms of their contract, he'd offered her freedom. As long as her chores, which were very light and limited to laundry, dusting the finer treasures and cooking his meals that he couldn't trust to magic, were done her time was her own. He'd gifted her with a library, with practical new clothes that didn't include a suffocating corset, with conversation and debates that challenged her, knowledge about the outside world that even within her own father's tutors was limited to who was the son of whom. He'd even given her her own suite of rooms; the best guest rooms not too far from his own quarters. She'd had a sitting room, a large bedroom housing an equally large bed, an enormous wardrobe, and the bathroom held some beautifully fragranced oils that he must have taken advice on procuring for her. Of course, he insisted (fairly unconvincingly) he'd need her dungeon to help house the hordes of Robin Hood wannabe's who'd try their hand at stealing from the Dark One once word got out it was possible. He'd eventually trusted her to go to the village and not bring back a mob to kill the monster. In short, she'd had a life with Rumplestiltskin and he had thrown that away. And here she was, once again, little more than a pawn in her father's political intrigues to be married off at an opportune moment to the right Prince. King Maurice was not a cruel man, or a bad father. It was just that he was unable to see beyond his holding the crown and extending his kingdom. Individual wishes did not matter when the future of the kingdom was at stake, and the future of any kingdom was always at stake. King Maurice was simply unable to contemplate any will or idea that did not coincide with the best interests of the kingdom. And to his mind happily the interests of the kingdom coincided with what was in Belle's best interests.
Belle sighed. "Belle, have you even been listening to what I've been saying? Your head spends far too much time in the clouds, better you had a husband to keep you grounded in the real world." Maurice picked up his cutlery again and renewed his interest in the omelette half eaten on his plate.
"Yes Papa, a ball would be lovely". Belle rolled her eyes and slumped back in her chair. She had no energy to fight against her father now, no interest in anything. Except adventure. Belle had seen the world outside her kingdom and wanted to see more.
"Have something to eat Belle. I think your hobbies are leaving little time for your appetite to develop. I have plenty of potential suitors lined up for you and none will want to marry a skeleton". Belle skewered a slice of toast with her fork and peered at it with no longing. Her father preferred plain fare, and this was in sharp contrast to the sumptuous meals she had prepared at the Dark Castle. The kitchens had been her domain exclusively and Rumplestiltskin had proved to be a very willing victim for her culinary experiments. She'd developed a fondness for food there and now had little taste for what her father asked his cooks to prepare.
Duly, the ball was announced and the kingdom was aflutter with excitement. Invitations were sent out, including to a reluctant Gaston, however his reluctance waned upon remembrance of the rather large dowry a marriage to Belle would bring. Yes, he could let Maurice entice him to marry Belle, perhaps inveigle a larger dowry this time to take into account the taint of the Dark One.
Jefferson, skulking around with the villagers going about their business in the courtyard, caught whispers of the ball, and smiled. He'd be in his element. Aside from being a dedicated follower of millinery, he also enjoyed the finer points of couture and took great pleasure in exhibiting his creations to a bewildered Rumplestiltskin, or more frequently to a poor beleaguered villager.
On the night of the ball Jefferson, dressed in his finest new creation, drew admiring glances from the court maidens. It would be easy to gain admittance. He scanned the crowd gathering outside and his gaze fell upon a young lady, separated from the herd by a carriage that barrelled its way through to the stables. Jefferson sauntered towards her, ever the gallant hero, and offered his hand.
"May I be of assistance" he enquired, confident in the attraction for him emanating from his target.
The young lady accepted his hand gratefully. "I seem to have lost my friends" she sighed, looking around. "I don't recognise you" she continued, as her glance once again rested on the Hatter.
"It's a masked ball" he replied, a devilish grin stretching across his face, "you're not meant to recognise anyone here until the unmasking. Let me introduce myself in the mean time. I am the Marquis of...Chapeaux" he improvised. "And you are...?" he gestured at the young lady.
"I am the young lady you will be escorting in seeing as my friends have vanished. In keeping with the traditions of a masked ball I will refrain from introducing myself until midnight". Her eyes sparkled behind the silver facade of her mask and Jefferson's eyebrows shot up in hope. He did so enjoy a good flirting and his anonymous acquaintance seemed inclined to the same. The court maiden's blood red lips curled into an appreciative smile. Men were so easy. She looked forward to the evening's entertainment of watching the Belle of the ball be courted by her coven of suitors.