A Game of Chance

by CharlotteAshmore

Using the last of her spinner husband's wages, Milah sets off for a night of drinking and gambling at the tavern. She bites off more than she can chew when she agrees to a game with the Lady Belle. She ups the ante and bets her husband … and loses. What does the Lady Belle have in store for the sweet spinner?

4. Chapter 4

IV

Milah hummed softly as she left her bags by the door of the cottage and pulled it shut behind her. The morning was bright, and everything was ready in preparation to leave the village far behind. She'd spent the previous day gathering her things and giving the rest away to the widow down the lane who'd lost her husband in a recent draft. It had been too painful to go through Baelfire's things which had been left behind, but she'd had no such qualms about tossing out Rumpelstiltskin's. She was right glad to be done with him, even though she'd had to lose her son to do so. Perhaps one day, when she'd found herself a wealthy new love, she could send for him. That contract she'd signed couldn't be all that binding, could it?

She felt free! Happier than she'd been in years. If her husband had never returned from the ogre war, she would have been a widow, comfortable in the arms of the village who always looked after their own. She wouldn't have had to live under the stigma of Rumpelstiltskin's cowardice. She wouldn't have been pitied. She hated pity. She turned down the lane which would lead to the tavern. It wouldn't hurt to have a bite to eat and maybe one last game with her friends, she thought happily, her steps eager as she marched onward. Afterwards, she could fetch the mare she'd bought from the community stables and be on her way to new experiences. Adventure awaited and she would heed its call with a glad heart.

Milah sighed. She had no doubt the princess would take good care of Baelfire. He'd probably be better off with her, growing up in a palace with every comfort near to hand. She really couldn't have cared less what happened to her coward of a husband. She hoped the princess would have him flogged at least once a day to whip his lame ass into shape. Maybe then he'd learn not to shirk his duties.

The tavern was teeming with patrons – as it usually was around the noon hour – as she threw open the worn door and stepped inside. She wasn't expecting the raucous bunch to fall silent upon her arrival. Ignoring them all, she made her way to her usual table towards the back and took her seat. Marie and Talia, the two barmaids on duty, briefly met her eyes before completely turning their backs on her. What the hell was going on? They'd never shown her such open hostility before.

Milah left her seat, more than a little put out because she hadn't been served. It wasn't like she didn't have the funds to cover a little food and drink. Making her way to the bar, she slapped her hand down on the rough-hewn surface. "'S'matter, Pete? Too busy to serve me today? Your girls are slacking," she snarked with a bright smile. He'd always liked her, so she felt at ease teasing him.

"Sorry, Milah, we won't be serving you today," he said, unable to meet her eyes.

"What?" she asked, taken aback by the open scorn in his voice. "And I'll be knowing why!"

Talia snorted, her tone mocking. "'Why', she asks. As if she doesn't know!"

"After wha' ye did ta yer own 'usband, yer lucky ye weren't tossed out on yer arse th' second ye walked through th' door," Marie sneered, whirling to face her with nothing but derision dripping from her voice. "And yer puir wee one. How could you sell yer own son?!"

Talia tossed her ginger hair and braced her hands on her hips before spitting at Milah's feet. "What kinda monster are you?"

Milah's lip curled in distaste as she looked down her long nose at them, her eyes flashing hotly. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "Not one person in this village liked Rumpelstiltskin, even before he left for war and came home a coward. You're all a bunch of hypocrites!"

Cuthbert rose from a table littered with his friends, pushing his luncheon away as his appetite soured. "Doesna excuse what ye did, Milah. Ye gambled away yer 'usband an' sold yer boy."

Magnus, the village blacksmith, turned on her next. "Wha' type o' mon will ever wan' ye again, lass, when 'e finds oout wha' a mercenary little harpy ye be?"

"… vile woman."

"… should be ashamed."

"… despicable."

"… spinner shoulda beat her when he had the chance."

"… puir wee Bae."

Milah fought down her rising panic as more and more of the patrons turned their anger upon her. She tried to remain calm, but it wasn't easy. "I can't believe you're all going to stand there and judge me. You know what I went through these past years being shackled to the village coward."

Pete threw his cleaning rag down on the bar and turned to face her. "And yet 'e stayed wi' yer miserable arse and took care o' ye like a 'usband should. Yer a disgrace, Milah, an' I don't wan' ter see ye in me tavern again. Get out!" he snarled, pointing to the door.

Before she knew it, Milah found herself on the threshold, Marie brandishing her serving tray like a weapon should the spinner's former wife think to cause a scene. Marie gave a haughty toss of her head and sneered down at the woman. "I 'ope the spinner an' 'is son both find 'appiness wi' th' lady Belle. Theys deserve it after havin' to deal wi' a worthless cur like ye!"

Milah gaped after her as the door was slammed in her face. What the hell had just happened? It wasn't possible! How could they just turn on her? She hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't as if she was the first person who'd ever done such a thing. Just because she was a woman …

She pulled her shawl more securely about her shoulders and set off for the stables. The sooner she left this godsforsaken village behind, the sooner she could begin her new life. She had to wait a good quarter of an hour to have the stable boy come out to tell her the horse she'd purchased needed to be refitted with a new set of shoes before she would be able to leave, and they wouldn't come cheap. Damnit! What else could possibly go wrong?

Assuring the boy she'd be back that evening, she headed back towards the cottage to find something she could prepare for her lunch. She was still bristling angrily over her treatment at the tavern and didn't see the man until she'd run into him. "Oh, I beg your pardon," she said, her eyes widening to see the Duke's taxman. Was it that time of the month already? She groaned, cursing her luck.

"Mistress Milah, how lovely to see you this fine day," the oily man said in greeting, his thin lips stretching into a leering grin. "Might I escort you?"

"T-There's no need. I-I was just on my way home, sir." She did not need this today.

The man reached out and took her hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. "Oh, but I insist."

She cast him a smile which more resembled a grimace, having no choice but to allow him to lead her down the lane towards her home.

"I was rather surprised not to see you at the tavern when I stopped in to collect their tax share." He dipped close to her ear in a conspiratorial manner. "I inquired after you."

She tittered a nervous laugh. "Did you really?"

"Indeed," he said, licking over his dry lips as his gaze traveled over her slender form, his eyes lingering on her breasts. "Imagine my surprise when Marie was only too eager to tell me why you weren't there."

Her azure eyes closed in resignation as he stopped before her door. "I-I –"

"Let's not play games, dear. It seems you are now without your man. What do you think we should do, mistress? Taxes on your cottage still need to be collected. Now that Rumpelstiltskin – the primary lessee – is no longer here to provide for you, the land is now forfeit and reverts back to the duke. He's going to want to lease it out to another tenant, I'm sure." He raised his hand to trail his fingers over her smooth cheek and along her exposed collarbone. "Not to mention you will have to pay what is left of the year's dues."

Milah forced herself to swallow against the nausea rising within her.

"I'm sure we can come to some sort of … arrangement."

She forced a smile to her lips and stepped a little closer. If she paid him outright more than what she owed for this month's tax, it would substantially cut into the gold she'd won last night, and she couldn't have that. She needed that money to begin her new life and she wouldn't let anything stand in her way of that. It wouldn't be the first time she'd paid a debt in such a manner, and it probably wouldn't be the last. If she could withstand her husband's poor attempts at lovemaking, she could surely endure those of the brawny tax collector. She pushed the door open and cast him an inviting smile. "I'm certain we can, sir."

*.*.*

Belle arched a brow at her servant as he stood there eyeing Gaston's ebony steed as if the beast were going to gobble him whole. "Rumpel, have you never ridden before?" she asked gently.

He shook his head mutely, never taking his eyes from the animal.

Her brow furrowed in a puzzled frown. "Not even in the war?"

"No, m'lady, I was part of the infantry and we weren't allowed to ride. We marched through the mud as was our duty," he replied honestly.

Another thought occurred to her and she mentally kicked herself. "Are you afraid of Storm? I assure you, for a spirited beast, he can be quite gentle with the proper handling." If he were afraid to ride, she could always allow him to ride in the coach with Gaston. It would, however, dampen her hopes to get to know him better.

He cast her a wry smile. "Not exactly. I'm more concerned as to how I'm going to manage climbing atop the wily beast."

Belle laughed softly, her expression softening with humor. "I'm sure we'll manage," she nodded sagely. "The saddle is large enough to accommodate the two of us, so we should be quite comfortable. Thankfully, Gaston is a great hulking mule and requires a larger saddle than some of my other knights." She held out her hand for his staff and called Gwain over to ask for his assistance.

"Lady Belle?" Gwain asked with a smart bow in her direction, his shaggy ginger hair falling over his left eye.

"Sir Gwain, with Rumpel's bad ankle, what would be the best way for him to mount?" she queried, walking around the steed to view him from all angles. The knight followed, eyeing the spinner speculatively.

He smiled. "I have it. Merrick, fetch that log beside the fire, would you?" he called to his fellow comrade. "I think, m'lady, it would be best to have him step up on the log to lessen the distance he has to pull himself up. Left foot in the stirrup as he holds onto the pommel and then over with the right." He grinned at Rumpelstiltskin. "Or I could simply toss him up, if you prefer."

"Behave, Gwain," Belle chuckled, sharing in his laughter. She was sorry a moment later when she noticed her servant's downcast gaze. She moved to his side and placed her hand on his forearm. "He's only teasing, Rumpel. Don't take offense. My men could all make wonderful court jesters if they decided to leave their knighthood behind, I assure you. Teasing is a sport to them." She only hoped he would relax and see it for what it was.

He nodded and squared his shoulders in determination as Merrick set the log down next to Storm. He gripped the pommel tightly in his hand before shakily climbing atop the log. His right leg trembled as he set his left foot in the stirrup, but he was able to do as Gwain had instructed and in seconds found himself sitting in the saddle.

Belle patted the stallion's long neck with her gloved hand, crooning to it soothingly. "There, there, my darling, be at ease. It's alright." The horse tossed his head and then nuzzled his nose into the lady's hand. "That's a lovely darling. I'll see if Gaston has an apple for you later … if you're a good boy." She petted him a few moments longer and then mounted in front of her servant.

"We're ready to move out as soon as you are, m'lady," Gwain informed her before mounting his own steed. He moved off to join the others, leaving Belle and Rumpelstiltskin to follow.

Belle shot him a coy smile over her shoulder when several minutes passed and he still hadn't put his arms about her waist. "Rumpel, you're going to need to hold onto me. I don't want you to lose your seat."

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes widened in horror at the very thought, but what other choice did he have? His hands uncurled from the fists they'd been balled into and he hesitantly placed them on his lady's waist. His gaze found hers only to find her shaking her head. She reached down and took his hands, pulling his arms about her waist and folding his hands one over the other until his front was flush with her back. He suppressed a shiver, feeling her touch even through the soft leather of her gloves. He cleared his throat, cursing silently. How was he supposed to travel like this?

His chin fell forward against his chest, his hair falling over his brow. Hopefully it would shield the bright flush of his cheeks from her avid gaze. "This is highly inappropriate, highness."

Belle's smile slipped as she turned to face forward and clicked her tongue to set Storm into motion. She didn't like the subtle reminder, nor how he used her title to get his point across without being rude. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with us riding together."

He gave her a dubious look.

"Ok, maybe technically … but that's beside the point. It's not like we're in Avonlea yet where we'll have to bow to society's dictates," she said bitterly, not looking forward to the strictures she'd have to follow when she returned home. She'd always been a tactile person, and she found she rather liked the feel of his arms around her. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if he gathered her close of his own accord.

"Your men don't object to your deviance from protocol?"

She chuckled, smiling at him over her shoulder. "Of course not. They were handpicked by my father and brother to watch over me. I've ridden with them all at one time or another. Mostly Gaston, though. We were raised together and remain friends now that we're older."

"Friends? Surely, you have ladies you call friends at court?"

Belle wrinkled her nose as she thought of the sycophants who trailed after her as they tried to garner her favor. "Not really," she demurred. "I would rather spend time in my library than with the court." She leaned back into him and sighed, delighting in the way they fit together so perfectly. He was slowly becoming a source of comfort in her life she hadn't realized she'd been lacking. "But enough about me. You'll learn your fair share about me when we reach Avonlea, I'm sure. I want to know more about you."

"Why?" he asked incredulously. "You don't need to know my background in order to have me serve you."

"True," she acceded, "but I do need to know about you if I'm going to be your friend … which is my hope … that you and I might be friends."

He shook his head in consternation. Why would she want to be friends with him? She already had him in her service for the duration of five years. Why would she want more? He opened his mouth to tell her so, but it wasn't what passed his lips. "What do you want to know," he found himself asking instead.

Belle followed her knights at a sedate pace, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air. She could imagine what her brother would say when she returned home with a bit of color to her cheeks. She bit her lip thoughtfully as she wondered what she could ask Rumpelstiltskin which wouldn't upset him too badly. She already knew to avoid the subject of his ankle. "What was your childhood like? Was your family large with lots of children?"

He stiffened behind her, his entire body going rigid with tension.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Rumpel. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

Rumpelstiltskin looked off into the distance, his jaw tight. "I was an only child. My mother died in childbirth and I was raised by my … my father until I was eight."

"Oh, did he pass?" she asked, her cerulean gaze filled with sympathy for his loss.

"Not exactly," he snorted bitterly. "He left me with my two spinster aunts when he saw what a burden I was, and I never saw him again." It was partly true, but she'd never believe the whole of it. It was best if she didn't think he was crazy. Really, who would believe his father would abandon him in order to gain eternal youth?

Belle wrapped the reins around her left hand and covered both of his with her right, rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles. Anger flared hot and thick in her blood as she imagined the anguish he must have suffered. "And your aunts ... Were they good to you?"

"Aye," he murmured huskily around the lump of emotion lodged in his throat. "They taught me how to spin. It's a useful trade and I find I like the motion of the wheel and the way the material flows through my fingers. It's soothing."

And she was sure he had more than one demon riding his back which the wheel was able to chase away for a time. "What do you spin, Rumpel. Is there a particular favorite of yours?"

"Wool, mostly. I had an Angora goat once. Oh, Belle, it produced the softest yarn. I bought him at market for well under cost. The man who owned him hadn't cared for him properly and wanted to get rid of him." His voice filled with eagerness to share this tale with her and it made Belle smile, finally having found something to talk about which didn't cause him pain. "You see, it's important to brush the animal every day to prevent knots and tangles. Then when it's time for sheering, the wool is so fine and soft."

"It sounds wonderful, Rum. You should have brought him along. We've –"

"I couldn't. Milah hated that goat."

Just as easily as her spirits had soared at his tale, they plummeted somewhere in the region of her feet at the mention of that horrid woman. "Oh, no. Did she make you sell him?"

"No. Baelfire was three, I think. We'd gone to market that day to sell my wares and when we returned home …" He shuddered as the memory washed over him. "She'd killed him. The poor beastie was roasting on a spit in the front yard."

Belle felt sick. "I'm so sorry."

"I loved that goat. Bae did, too."

The princess could feel tears sting her eyes, but refused to let them fall. She'd make certain he was never unhappy again. She'd buy him ten of the long-haired goats and perhaps a rabbit … or five. He'd always have the luxuriant wool to spin if it was his wish. Her throat closed over as her depression mounted and they fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.

*.*.*

Hours later, they stopped at a posting inn three hours ride from the gates of the city. Belle was tired and cranky from being in the saddle for so long. Rumpelstiltskin slid easily from Storm's back, leaving one hand on the saddle to steady himself once he was on the ground. He held out his arms to her, his hands sliding easily now about her waist as he helped her down. She stumbled into him, her arms winding about his neck as she regained her balance. He sucked in a deep breath, her sweet floral scent teasing at his nose as he breathed her in. She was so intoxicating … and not for him, he reminded himself.

She apologized for her clumsiness as Gwain moved forward, Rumpelstiltskin's staff clutched loosely in his hand. The spinner thanked him and leaned heavily upon it, his free hand moving to Belle's elbow until she had regained her bearings. When she assured him she was fine, he excused himself and went to seek out his son. Her eyes followed him as he made his way to the boy's side and scooped him up into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Well, that was interesting," Gaston said from behind her as he came to see to his stallion. "Why didn't you just reach up and kiss him, Belle? It couldn't have been any more shocking than watching you practically eat him with your eyes."

He waggled his eyebrows at her when she turned to glare at him. "Knock it off, Gaz."

Gaston wrapped the reins around his left hand and offered his other to Belle. She settled her fingers in the crook on his arm and rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh. "Bluebelle, I'm only teasing," he assured her, turning serious.

"I know."

"People fall in love everyday … er … though maybe not that fast."

"Gaz, I'm not in love –"

"Not yet, but, Belle … could you love him?" he asked, stopping in the grassy courtyard of the inn to face her. "You've waited years to find love. Gods know Lucern and your father have trotted nearly every nobleman in the kingdom beneath your nose and you haven't taken the slightest interest in any of them."

Belle toyed with a loose thread on his uniform jacket. "I really don't know. I've never been in love before," she said in a small voice.

"But you know you desire him. Sometimes that can very well blossom into love. You care for his son already. You want the spinner close to you … enough to have him ride with you." He lowered his voice, his eyes darting from side to side to make certain none of his men were eavesdropping. A bunch of old gossips, they were. "You let him braid your hair!"

"I don't have a maid!" She was seconds away from stamping her foot.

"Belle," he growled in frustration. "Look, all I'm saying is that if you think he could be the one … the one you've been looking for all your life, the one you feel you could love - really, really love - don't give up on him because he's not of your class or station. If he can make you happy … fight for him." He tied Storm's reins to the hitching post and grabbed her hand, pulling him along behind her. "Some of us can spend our whole lives looking and never find it."

She tugged on his hand, pulling him to a stop before he could enter the inn. "Is that why you've stayed with me for as long as you have? Because you haven't found her yet?"

His smile was bittersweet, his dark eyes sad. "I stay with you because I love you, Belle. You're the best friend I've ever had … and it's refreshing you can see through my charm to the bullshitter I really am," he chuckled. "And I'll continue to stay with you until I find the woman meant for me." He pulled her towards the door and into the dimly lit room to a seat where the spinner and his son sat waiting for her.

*.*.*

Rumpelstiltskin's hands fisted and relaxed over and over again in his lap, his gaze focused out the window of the coach. Belle had insisted both he and Baelfire ride with her, wanting to have them at her side when they rode through the gates of her kingdom. He was so nervous, not knowing what to expect from his new position as her servant. He'd never even been farther than his village except when he'd had to report to the front to fight the ogres. What if she expected more than he was able to give? He had never regretted his lame ankle more than in that moment. A fine servant he'd make when he had to rely on his staff to be able to put one foot in front of the other.

Yet he was determined to give her his all. His eyes drifted back into the coach, to his son, asleep with his head in the princess's lap, her delicate fingers carding through his curls. Baelfire was just as taken with Belle as he himself was, but what good would it do them? They had but five years in her service … if he so chose. Why would she even give him a choice? Already he was forming attachments to her which were better left alone. He thought back to that morning, his arms wrapped about her waist, her scent strong in his nose as her hair brushed against his face. The beauty of her smile and the touch of her hand upon his had been an intoxicating combination. How could he not feel something for her?

From the moment he'd met her, she'd saved him from a lonely existence filled with cruelty and scorn, embraced his son as if he were her own flesh and blood and showed them both nothing but kindness, all in the span of two days. He would have to tread carefully where she was concerned, or he'd do the unforgivable and lose his heart to her. He couldn't allow himself to love again, not after what Milah had done to him.

He needed to focus on Bae and his duties to Belle. That would be his goal … to please them. Perhaps in Avonlea, he could forget what he was before. Here, no one knew him for the coward he was. No one knew what he'd done in order to be a father to his child. Here he was just another face in the crowd. He could reinvent himself. Here he would have a new beginning.

He glanced over at Belle as she watched over his son. Here he had a … friend. And with her, he had something he never thought he'd have. Hope. She smiled at him and he felt warmth flood his chest. Once again, he turned his gaze to the passing scenery, his eyes widening at the splendor all around him. The dirt roads they traveled gave way to cobbled streets and immense wrought iron gates loomed before them. Guards milled around them, their fine gold and navy livery marking them as servants of Avonlea. He startled as the blast of a trumpet announced the return of the princess. He felt like a fool gaping at the sights as they rode through the gates and into the city proper.

Belle woke Baelfire and he rubbed sleepily at his eyes, unable to take it all in. "Papa! There's so much to see. We'll surely get lost with so many people."

"You have nothing to fear, darling," Belle said softly. "You'll always have someone to lead you. You are far too precious for us to lose you, isn't that right?" She reached over and took his hand in hers and then did the same with the spinner. "Tonight, we will feast and say a prayer of thanks for our safe journey. Welcome to Avonlea."

Rumpelstiltskin said his own prayer before they even reached the palace. A prayer he and Bae would find happiness amidst the controlled chaos, happiness or at the very least … contentment.

A/N: Well, at least Milah is starting to see that … Karma is a bitch! Mwahahahaha! Soooo, what did you think? Do you think they're heading in the right direction? I do! Having so so so much fun with this prompt. Next week, Belle deals with the fallout of her actions. Her brother is a bit miffed. Thanks so much for reading!

Hugs and love to last week's reviewers: Wondermorena, Grace5231973, Songbird1986, Twyla Mercedes, FaerieTales4ever (chapters 2 & 3), Erik'sTrueAngel, MyraValhallah, Guest, jeananne1964, KatrinaCross and onlyinyourdreams77.