A/N: This chapter is for my friend Twyla, who always sends me the most lovely ideas to spark my muse :D Thank you, darling. I know this isn't teaching her to spin, but it's the next best thing … I think. *hugs*

IX

"Good evening, darling. How was your bath?" Lyssa asked as her husband stormed into their apartments and headed straight to the cut crystal decanter of plum brandy. She arched a brow, her lips forming into a moue of displeasure. It wasn't often her husband turned to drink to soothe his nerves. "Would you care to talk about it?"

He offered her a wan smile that didn't touch upon the turmoil brewing in his cerulean eyes. Taking his refilled tumbler with him, he moved to sit on the settee at her side where she was going through a crate of books Belle had sent when she'd finished with them. His wife was slowly going through them, sorting them into piles according to genre. "Belle finished with these rather earlier than I'd thought she would. Well, it's no surprise since she didn't come down to dinner … again," he grumbled.

Lyssa flipped her long blond braid over her shoulder and leaned back into his embrace, resting her head beneath his chin. "It's a good thing the two of you differ in your tastes for reading material." Belle had always favored romance and adventure over Lucern's desire for a good war story or mystery. "There are still plenty from which to choose. Now do tell me what's wrong. What has you so upset, my husband?"

The prince took a long swallow of his brandy and hummed noncommittally before pressing a kiss to her temple. "Sweetling … what do you think of my sister's servant?

Uh oh! Lyssa peeked at him from beneath her lashes, guardedly studying his troubled visage. "I find Rumpelstiltskin to be a very kind and loving father to his son and a wonderful friend to Belle, especially now that he's somewhat come out of his shell. Why do you ask?"

"Do you … ah … think he's the sort of man who would woo her for his own personal gain?"

"Lucern, just what are you getting at?" she asked suspiciously, leaning away from him to meet his gaze.

Her husband drained his glass and set it on the end table before crossing his arms sulkily over his chest. "Nothing."

"Lucern! Explain yourself. I weary of your hedging."

The prince winced, hating himself for upsetting his beloved. "He kissed her," he mumbled petulantly. "I went to her rose garden to ask why she'd had father order livestock for her, and I came upon him kissing her."

"What?!" she squeaked, her hazel eyes flaring wide as her lips turned up into a radiant grin. "He finally kissed her?!"

"What do you mean finally?" he roared.

"Darling, she's in love with him. I think she has been since before they arrived home. Don't tell me you haven't noticed the way she looks at him."

"Frankly, no," he said dryly, his brows meeting low over his eyes in his irritation. "Why am I the only one who thinks this is a scandal in the making?" He looked at her warily. "I suppose father knows as well?"

Lyssa shook her head. "No, Papa's still oblivious, dear."

"Thank the gods for small favors," he quipped, resting his head against the back of the settee. "Lyssa … I've failed her."

"You have not! She adores you; she always has," she protested, taking his hands into her own and giving a reassuring squeeze.

He stared into the dying embers glowing in the hearth and closed his eyes. "Perhaps I should arrange for her to marry. She's twenty-five years old, sweetling. She needs a family of her own."

"I don't think she and Rumpelstiltskin are quite ready to take that step in their relationship."

He refused to meet her gaze. "I wasn't talking about her servant."

Lyssa gasped, rising slowly to her feet. "You wouldn't … Lucern, you can't! To force her to marry – and believe me, dear, you would be forcing her – it would destroy her. Every bit of faith she's ever held for you, husband … gone forever. Not to mention she would hate you for it."

Lucern scrubbed his hands over his face as he watched her pace in agitation before the stone hearth. "Lyssa, love …" he whined. "… he's a bloody peasant. He's not a suitable candidate for my sister's hand."

His no nonsense wife snorted, her eyes shooting daggers at him. "You didn't think I would make an acceptable wife for you, if I seem to recall," she replied lowly, quiet menace in her voice daring him to argue.

"You were dressed in armor on a steed much too big for you and I had just taken your lance to my chest!" he scoffed. A small curl of her lips showed him she was amused by the memory of their first meeting. He rose from the settee and moved to her side, slipping his arms about her waist to pull her against his chest.

She nuzzled against his throat, humming softly. "Well, I couldn't very well allow Edmund, that dolt, to barter my hand in a joust and then trust him to win. Imagine what would have happened if he'd lost me to Earl Grimmold," she shuddered.

"Your brother isn't such a bad sort, love. However, his lack of expertise at dice is another matter altogether. Shouldn't be allowed to gamble, that one," he chuckled, his breath warm against her ear. "I'm quite pleased you're proficient with a lance."

Lyssa arched a perfectly manicured golden brow in his direction. "You weren't pleased at the time. Neither was my father when you called me out on the field. But don't you see, husband? As the daughter of a lesser knight with a propensity to take risks, I wasn't suitable to be your consort."

Lucern sighed. He had been worried about her habit of running about in tight leather breeches, gallivanting all over creation without mind for the consequences and he had knights in his retinue who didn't joust nearly half as well as his beloved. But he'd gotten over it. His love for her had won out over any misgivings he'd had, and it had been another battle to win her hand, this one with proper wooing and a torrid courtship. He had no regrets. She took her place at his side, charmed his people and best of all … she loved him with her whole heart. But could he allow the same for his sister?

"You were different. At least you were noble."

"And you, my love, are a snob." She pushed out of his arms, taking advantage of his distraction. "I don't think I want to share your bed, this evening … it might be a bit crowded with your ego, after all," she snickered. "I think it's rather unfair you should take the choice from her hands simply because she's a woman."

"Lyssa … that's not it at all!"

"Goodnight, Lucern."

"But, Lyssa …"

She paused at the door which adjoined her bedchamber to his and chanced a glance over her shoulder. "Pleasant dreams, dear. I hope your sleep is untroubled … no visions of your precious sister – who has finally found true happiness with her spinner – looking at you with naught but betrayal in her eyes."

Lucern dropped wearily into a chair as he watched her flounce out the door and close it with a deafening click of the latch, indecision weighing heavily upon his broad shoulders.

*.*.*

Rumpelstiltskin placed the last spool of thread in the wicker basket and set it aside. Hopefully, tomorrow afternoon, he'd be able to slip off to the spinning and weaving rooms in the west wing to dye them. His mistress made sure his supply of wool was never depleted – another of her many gifts to him since he'd become her servant – and he made sure he put it to good use. Now, in the wee hours of the morning, he continued to spin when really, he should be sleeping. Instead, he busily went about the task of making a gift of his own to present to his lady.

Though embroidery wasn't her favorite past time, she sometimes needed to keep her hands busy when forced to spend time with the ladies in her father's court. The spinners employed by the king made adequate thread, but it was by no means the same quality as his own. And perhaps with some of his own dying techniques, he could produce a larger variety of color to add to her samplers. Just something to show her how much he appreciated her never-ending generosity.

If the task could also give his mind a measure of peace, all the better. It wouldn't do to dwell on the kiss. That was easier said than done, however. What could she have been thinking to ask him for such a thing? He groaned as he overlapped another handful of wool with the leader and held them taught as he gave the wheel a slow spin. What had he been thinking to agree?

Every time he closed his eyes, he could still imagine clearly the way she'd looked at him, her eyes heavily lidded with some unknown emotion alight in their depths. He remembered the feel of her lips pressed so softly to his, her taste, the feel of her skin as he cradled her cheek in his hand. And he was going to go mad with wanting more.

He forced himself to keep the tension in the thread as he lost himself in thoughts of his recurring dream. More and more often he was visited by images of them entangled in mussed sheets, her sweet voice whispering in his ear of how she loved him, how she desired only him as his body sought her welcoming heat, filling her over and over until she screamed his name.

Oh, there were others where he would dream of the three of them, settled in a cottage by the sea, a loving family, but it didn't leave him shaking as he woke. That one didn't fill him with an ache so deep he could feel it to his very soul.

And that's all they were … dreams. He'd never have her look on him the way she did in his midnight forays into slumber. He released the thread and raked a hand through his hair, cursing himself for defiling his mistress – if only in his mind – after everything she'd done for him. He was a horrid, wretched little man, not fit to kiss her dainty toes. He groaned at the thought, an errant shiver of lust tingling along his spine. Spinning – his usual escape when he couldn't sleep – wasn't helping in the least to quell his desires that evening.

"Rumpel?" came her soft voice from the doorway. He always left it open a crack so he could hear her should she call for him in the night. Belle poked her head hesitantly around the opening, her bleary gaze searching him out. Her voice sounded strange and he noticed a redness about the corners of her eyes as if she'd been crying. "I saw your light. May I come in?"

"Of course, mistress," he replied, reaching for his cane to rise, but she hurried to his side, her hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat. "What is it? Should I fetch some tea?"

"N-No … no tea." She shook her head, her lower lip wobbling. "M-May I sit with you? I just don't want to be alone right now." Dropping to her knees, she curled up between his feet, her cheek coming to rest against his thigh as she drew in a deep stuttering breath. She couldn't help but notice the tension in his body, but he didn't push her away.

Belle had been withdrawn and melancholy through most of the afternoon and into the dinner hour, touching little of the food she shared with them. Even reading to Baelfire before bed had seemed a bit shorter that evening and she'd retreated to her room without even a 'goodnight' for him. Tossing and turning in her big bed had only succeeded in making her body ache, until she'd finally gathered her courage to seek out her servant to offer him the apology he so richly deserved. Yet now, humbled at his feet, she had difficulty forming the words, another tear trickling lazily from the corner of her eye.

Rumpelstiltskin reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering briefly over the crown of her head before stroking his fingers through her tousled curls. "Belle, dearie, please … what has you so distressed this evening? I can't help you if you don't confide in me," he murmured soothingly. Unease vibrated just below his skin, all manner of worries plaguing his mind. Had he upset her in some way? Was she dissatisfied with him to the point where she was ready to send him away?

Her hands wrapped themselves about his leg, her fingers gently caressing the white tracery of scars on his ankle revealed by his calf-length cotton trousers. "I fear I have wronged you, my Rumpel. I'm so sorry," she whispered brokenly, her tears soaking into the soft material covering his thighs.

Nothing she could have said would have surprised him more. "Whatever are you talking about? You've done no such thing," he protested, his fingers slipping beneath her chin to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

"I did, Rumpel. I took away your choice," she said, guiltily lowering her eyes so she couldn't see his rejection when he realized what she'd done.

Rumpelstiltskin fought back his frustration and drew in a deep breath. There was no use in arguing with her as stubborn as she could be. "Tell me how you think you've taken away my choice," he demanded with a patience he hadn't known he possessed.

Belle turned to face him fully, her arms slipping about his waist as she buried her nose against his belly. "I made you kiss me … to thank me. I shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have felt obligated to kiss me, Rumpel, and I know you only did it because you have this need to repay me for gifts – which is completely insane when I give them to you from my heart – " she hurried to explain, some of her words becoming lost as she tightened her grip upon him. "But I wanted you to kiss me so badly, and I didn't think … and now I feel wretched to have forced you. I just care for you so deeply, Rumpelstiltskin, and I – " A broken little sob escaped her trembling lips as she finally looked up to meet his gaze to find his eyes moist, his lips parted as he stared incredulously at her. "I don't ever want you to kiss me because you see it as an obligation … but because you want me."

His mind – as well as his heart – stuttered to a halt at her words. She cared for him? She cared for him. She cared for him! Deeply. It was hard for him to focus on her lovely upturned face as tears gathered in his eyes. "Say it again?" he whispered, surprised he could utter a word in his astonishment.

"Which part?"

"The … ah … the part where you said you care for me."

Her cheeks flamed a becoming shade of pink. She'd been in such a rush to apologize, she hadn't realized she'd revealed her true feelings. Yet that didn't stop her lips from curling into a hesitant smile. She nuzzled against his palm as he cradled her face in his warm hands. "I do, Rum. I care for you so deeply. Please forgive me for taking advantage?"

Rumpelstiltskin pressed his brow to hers, his nose bumping hers affectionately. "I wanted to kiss you, my darling princess," he whispered, his breath warm against her lips, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to kiss her again. "Can't you see that I care for you, too?"

"You do?" she queried, hope strong in her voice.

"Aye, dearie, I do," he admitted sadly. "But what good will it do us when you will eventually have to marry? It is futile to give in to our feelings when you will someday have a husband to share your life with."

"No," she sobbed, fisting her hands in his shirt over his chest. "No."

"It is your duty, Belle," he sighed dejectedly. "And then you won't need me anymore."

Her arms slid over his shoulders to wrap themselves about his neck. "I'll have no one but you. I'll always need you."

The spinner held her tightly as she wept against the crook of his neck, helpless to her tears and not knowing how to make her understand he'd give anything to fulfill her every desire. But she had a duty to her kingdom, to her family. They'd never accept her wish to be joined to a humble peasant. "Hush, little dearie, it's alright." He pulled her up from her knees and set a stool between his feet, settling her upon it and pulling her back into the circle of his arms.

"Will you stay with me?" she whispered sleepily.

"For as long as I'm able."

Belle gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes. "No. If there wasn't a contract between us … would you stay with me of your own free will? Not because of Baelfire and the advantages he receives as my ward, but because you want to be here … with me?"

His long elegant spinner's fingers delved deeply into the curls behind her right ear as he pressed a feather-light kiss to her quivering lips. "I never want to be parted from you for any reason, my Belle." Just as quickly as her face lit up with pleasure, her smile died with his next words. "But what we want and what shall be are two very different things. Your family will never allow you to be with me … and if you knew of my past, you wouldn't want to be with me either. I'm a coward," he croaked, his voice heavy with emotion. "I always have been, Belle. And if you could somehow look past that, it doesn't change the fact that I am a peasant and you are a princess. It's impossible -"

"You're not a coward and I'll not have you speak of yourself in such a manner."

"Belle …" he sighed.

Belle snorted, some of her courage returning and making itself known. "We live in a land of magic, Rumpel. Nothing is impossible."

"Fairies are like to fly out of your brother's arse before he would ever consent to a match between you and I, dearie."

Belle's lips curled up in a devilish smile as she nestled against his chest, her heart light for the first time since that afternoon. "Then isn't it wonderful I have an ace up my sleeve? It will come in most handy when I speak to Lucern."

"Belle …" he cautioned, worried he'd be marched to the gallows once her brother discovered his feelings for the princess.

"Are you sure, Rumpel? Will you let me love you and share my life with you?" she asked as his face screwed up into a painful grimace, his doubts and fears evident. "We can be a family and be free to love one another. Isn't our future happiness worth the gamble?"

His fingers traced along the smooth curve of her cheek to tap gently against the corner of her petal soft lips. "And what if I'm not skilled enough to play the game?"

She closed the distance between them, her fingers tangling in the ends of his hair as her lips brushed softly against his. "I'm more than willing to teach you. All you have to do is say yes."

Rumpelstiltskin watched in awe as she drew his contract from the pocket of her dressing gown and pressed it into his hand. Five years, or a lifetime with his beloved girl. It was his choice. He could hand it back to her and remain her servant, or he could risk his heart, his life and his future – a future filled with happiness – and tear the parchment asunder. "Are you sure, Belle?" it was his turn to ask.

"I love you," she whispered, everything she felt so deeply in her heart shining brightly in her eyes.

He wrapped his arms more securely about her, the parchment clasped between his fingers tearing and fluttering to the rug at their feet. "Aye, dearie … I love you, too."

*.*.*

Hope was a fickle bitch, Rumpelstiltskin thought as he made his way down to the kitchens for Belle's morning tea and scones. It was bad enough he was getting strange looks from those he met in the corridors. Either he was smiling like the village idiot, or nearly in a state of panic, his emotions nothing more than a whirlwind of indecision. Hope warred with fear inside him until he was a nervous wreck. Joy his Belle loved him …him! … loved him! … panic her brother would see him as a threat and remove him from the kingdom entirely … hope he and Belle and Bae could indeed be a family … elation he was now free to hold her in his arms … at least when they were alone.

He was very nearly out of breath by the time he reached the cavernous kitchens. His beloved had fallen asleep on the stool at his spinning wheel, wrapped in the comfort and safety of his arms and he'd quickly followed, never having felt more at peace. His body ached from having slept in such an awkward position, but it had been worth it. Thankfully, his son had woken him before Bethany had arrived to rouse the princess.

"Papa!" the boy whispered loudly right next to his ear. "Why are you sleeping with Belle? Is som'thin' wrong with her bed? Was there a frog under the covers?"

"No, Bae, last I checked, Horace was in his terrarium," he murmured around a huge yawn. "Belle and I were simply talking and we … ah … we fell asleep, I suppose."

Baelfire rubbed sleepily at his eyes, trying to dislodge the sand which crusted the corners. "It's ok, Papa, I fall asleep in your lap all the time. I'm hungry, though. Can we go see if Mrs. Potts has sticky buns this mornin'?"

The spinner's brows disappeared beneath the fringe of his shaggy hair. Leave it to his son to think more about his stomach than the sleeping princess in his father's arms. "Of course, son. Let me … um … see to Belle first and then I'll see about a treat for you. Why don't you choose what you'll wear today for our outing, yeah?"

Belle's arms tightened about his waist as he roused her, burying her face against the crook of his neck. "Rum," she yawned. "Need more sleep."

"Yes, dearie," he chuckled softly, dropping a kiss to her brow. "Let's see you back to your bed so you can doze a little longer, shall we?"

She didn't protest, not even when he risked pain and discomfort in his mangled ankle to carry her back to her own room and lay her down gently beneath the wrinkled duvet. A smile had curved her lips as she snuggled down into her goose down pillow and rolled over with a contented sigh. He dressed quickly upon returning to his room and was just in time to warn Bethany as she made to enter her lady's room.

"Good morning, Rumpelstiltskin."

He returned the greeting. "Our mistress had trouble sleeping last night, Beth. Please allow her to sleep at least until I return with her tea."

"Is she ill," the maid asked worriedly.

"No, just tired. She had a lot on her mind and couldn't find peace enough to sleep. I'm sure she'll be fine with another hour or so of rest."

Mrs. Potts smiled warmly at him as he entered the kitchen and took a seat on a stool at her work station. "Good morning, dear," she greeted him, her smile slipping as she noticed the tired lines about his eyes. "Oh, you didn't rest well, did you? What have I told you about staying up all night spinning?"

"A good servant does not perform well without proper sleep. Yes, ma'am, I remember. I just had a lot on my mind," he said with a half-moon grin as he sipped his tea.

She set a sticky bun before him, the aroma of sugar and spicy cinnamon teasing his nose. "And did you sort yourself out, or would you like to talk about it?"

"Aye, it sorted itself out, actually."

"Sometimes it happens that way. Well, hopefully you'll be able to sleep tonight, dear." She rested her hand atop his where it lay upon the table. "You know you can talk to me, don't you?"

He ducked his head sheepishly, a warm blush tinting his cheeks. For some reason he couldn't fathom, the kindly matron who ruled the kitchens had taken an instant liking to him, treating him as if he were a beloved son instead of a mere servant. It was more than he'd gotten from his own mother, who'd died when he was a wee babe. He cared for the older woman, easily accepting her doting affection. In a lot of ways, she reminded him of his maiden aunts who'd raised him. "I do, ma'am … and I will should I find myself in need."

Mrs. Potts nodded before her attention was needed elsewhere. "Lazy girls!" she scolded, bustling off towards the end of the table where two scullery maids and her sous chef were standing idly, staring at Rumpelstiltskin appreciatively. "Off with the lot of you, now … standing about ogling the princess's servant when there's work to be done!"

Melinda got a sharp rap on the knuckles with Mrs. Potts' wooden spoon, protesting loudly. "Ouch!" she cried, rubbing her sore hand. "I can't help it! It's those bloody pants he wears."

"Off with you before I have you scrubbing pots and pans all day!"

Rumpelstiltskin buried his head in his hands in embarrassment. He wasn't dressed any differently than he usually was, today having chosen a fine white lawn shirt and forest green waistcoat. He'd need to fetch his riding jacket before meeting with Bae's friend, but he didn't see what the fuss was about.

Mrs. Potts mumbled under her breath as she placed two large sticky buns on the tea tray and turned to hand it to him. "This should tide her highness and young master Bae over until breakfast."

The spinner frowned as he noticed their usual breakfast tray hadn't been prepared. "Mrs. Potts, where is her breakfast tray? It's not like you not to have it ready by now."

The woman gave him a curious look. "Didn't you know? The prince sent word that Lady Belle would be dining with him this morning. I'm surprised you hadn't received the summons before you came down."

"Perhaps the messenger was delayed," he mumbled, feeling the color leech from his face. He dazedly wished her a good day and left the kitchen, wondering why the prince had summoned his sister. She made a point to dine with him at breakfast on Monday and Thursday and this was neither, it being Wednesday.

His stomach protested the meager breakfast he'd eaten as he thought of Lucern and what this summons could mean. He sent up a quick prayer to no less than four deities he knew of that the prince wouldn't upset Belle … because she had every intention of upsetting her twin.

A/N: Well, what did you think? I wonder if Lucern will take the news well. We'll just have to wait and see I suppose :D Were you happy with their relationship moving forward? There's still so much I want to do in this verse. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed it!

Next week (the update is still in progress, so this is what I'm hoping for) Lucern receives startling news and Rumpelstiltskin asks the king for permission to court the princess.

Hugs and love to last week's reviewers! scorpion22, Twyla Mercedes, Solo13, Deb, iamstephanieb, Wondermorena, Grace5231973, smebcwb, crazyhpcfan, FaerieTales4ever, Rachel, jeananne64, LoveTVshows, lovepeacebubble121x and CLKit.