A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing, Lovelies!

~8~8~

For the next few days the studious Dark One practiced certain rituals intensely with the captive beauty. At any spare moments he combed over the rare tomes Cora had in her possession, penned by sagely druid. All through the hours he planned for every single disaster that could arise. One did not construct a druidic ritual lightly or as some flippant thing.

Day after day, night after night they preformed mock actions, going through the steps by steps motions of the delicate procedure. Everything had to be just right, from the amounts of regents sprinkled to the flames or tossed with just the right flourish to the inscription to the muttered chanting. If one thing went wrong, or the magic was not at all culled and subdued by their show of deference disaster could strike them both.

Of course, he might be injured in something went wrong, but the girl had no resources to stave off the biting, thorny magic should the power become errant. He could heal himself if a gout of fire erupted from the ritual, yet she would be disintegrated into a pile of oily ash in but a heartbeat. For all the practice, the risk went doubly for her in case some ill sprang forward.

He wasn't going to let that happen, Rumpelstiltskin swore reverently to himself. He would not let her die because of a tenuous ritual gone awry or some misstep that heralded her doom. The darkness whispering like black winds of biting frost in his heart snapped at him for his relentless dedication but he overpowered the ill lurking deplorably in him. Belle was Cora's after all, he told himself to assuage the bitter darkness' disapproval. Far be it from him to owe Cora anything, especially a new slave girl for the one that had been turned to stone by wild magic or much worse.

She had to get everything right. She had to.

"No, no, no." Rumpelstiltskin slammed a tight fist into his free hand as Belle warily placed a bowl to the left of a horde of tall tallow candles.

At his snapping, the beauty snatched the bowl up once more like a child caught doing something wrong. Her hands shook terribly as she jerked the wooden vessel away, close to her chest. Water rippling inside the bowl dashed over the rim and splashed out over her hands. She fought to keep the bowl in her grip but the wooden dish fell to the floor in a clatter of stone and wood.

Water sluiced out in every direction, staining the hem of her dirty golden dress and leaking in a tear through a stone channel gouged in the floor. The bowl wobbled on its side like a broken toy, abandoned by a destructive child.

Ignoring the mess of cold wet, the Dark One pointed a scaled claw to the candles. "Water goes to the right. Always the right. You must keep the liquid separate from fire that goes on the left!"

Belle flinched at his snappish, irate tone, her body shuddering. Azure eyes upon the mess on the floor she could feel the heat of his obsidian eyes boring into her. "I'm sorry." She apologized lowly. Having the Dark One irked at her was not something she wished by any means. So far he had been gruff, but tolerant and even helpful to her enslaved plight. With all her being she did not wish to toss that out simply because he would lose his temper with her ineptitude.

To be certain she was doing her best to learn but the rituals were difficult to pick up at a moments notice. Druids and their novices or followers had years to perform the rituals without fail and she had only a few days.

"You'll be more than sorry if you do the ritual wrong." His dark eyes flashed daggers at her. Why couldn't she understand he was trying to save her.

Her chestnut head perched up to his cool words. Did he think she was not trying her hardest? Blistering anger flashed through her cobalt depths like bits of steel leaping from a blacksmiths forge. "Perhaps you could give me a bit of leeway here. I've only just started." She bit out venting her own frustration, her anger daring to fly in his face.

Surprise sprang to the magical fiends black husk at the outburst of the normally subdued woman. His soul lurched to life with the tremor of anger in her tone. Never, in all his time in Cora's vile estate had he seen the girl parry back to another's ire. She could be stubborn and held to her beliefs with a staunch heart, but he had never witnessed her growl out her own emotions.

The site was intoxicating. A flush of pink swirled in her cheeks and her jaw locked in fury. At another time, before her slavery, he reckoned she was quite a girl with her own opinion and thoughts not stifled by the hand of a cruel mistress she dared not speak back to.

Taken aback by her irked push, the fiend stared deeply into the pools of sapphire engraved upon her lovely features. A scaled brow perched curiously, enraptured by her anger. So she did have something more than an ounce of bravery. She had a little fire behind those pretty cerulean depths.

Belle stared into his smooth sable eyes without a hint of dreaded fear. How could he expect so much! Even Cora….

Cora.

Chill frosted over the heat of Belle's staunch heart at the thought of the cruel witch to whom she was forever enslaved. The high conflagration of her rage simmered to a hidden ember in the crags of her daring heart once more with the inward mention of the cruel shrew. If Cora knew she had dared let her anger hiss past her lips….

Ducking her head piously the girl flinched from his gaze. One displeased word to Cora and she would be regretting letting her ire free from the holds of her strong heart for weeks on end. "Forgive me speaking so, but I'm just frustrated." She smoothed to make amends, the burning wick in her heart extinguished once more to the cowed, obedient slave girl that hid the true woman beneath.

A half amused huff snorted from his thin gray lips as he watched the insipid words cross her lips. She meant not a word of apology, he knew very well. The moment of her fiery anger was passed, but he had enjoyed the peak into the woman behind the slave Cora had beaten and molded into creation for five long years.

"I suppose I could be pushing you too hard." He admitted in a thoughtful murmur with a laconic heave of his thin shoulders. "Perhaps I am hoping for too much to soon." Abruptly the fiend waved his gray-gold. "And stop flinching. I don't make a habit of striking defenseless slave girls for any cause. I am not of the same means as your lovely mistress. You've no fear of pain from me."

Belle nodded inwardly to herself, clutching his heavenly words with a strangling grip to her heart. Relief wonderfully soothed like a warm wind through her heart with his welcome declaration. The ignoble habit was long ingrained in her, but she did not think he had that type of pernicious nature. Certainly he could and did get angry with her sometimes but never had he lain a hand upon her for any reason.

She didn't fear his power though he could have easily harmed her, but years with Cora were hard to shake off. When a hand was raised she stiffened on instinct preparing for a blow, when magic hummed dreadfully through the air her belly flipped into a wave of icy terror.

"Here." Remorse for snapping at the beauty lined his voice with gruff softness. Guilt for yelling at her lanced at his dark heart with an uncomfortable force. He shouldn't yell at her, he supposed sorrowfully. Cora snapped at her for almost anything, even the most trivial of things. She didn't need another angry voice assailing her.

Bending down the Dark One took up the wooden bowl and held the container out to her. Sending a pulse of magic through the room he summoned the water back to rest in the oaken vessel. Trails of cold liquid shivered upon the floor and slowly began to form back as one. Slowly, goaded by magic, the wet slipped like a water serpent back into the bowl.

"Try again." He encouraged, his voice soft and understanding as he passed the filled bowl to her.

Belle nodded dutifully and grasped the refilled bowl of water. Exhaling deeply she took a confident step back and started the process over again. Chants fell melodically from her lips as she muttered the incantation for the liquid. Placing the bowl in the niche on the right, she sprinkled a gray powder over the water and took three steps to the right.

A large smile blazed upon the fiends face at the successes. Pride filled his heart to bursting to see she had done the entire ritual for the water without error. The words were a bit off and her steps a trifle uneven, but nothing a another day of practice would not fix. "Excellent, Belle. You are a quick study." The magical fiend nodded tersely, his lips hiding a grin.

Praise? Belle almost laughed at his commending. Her pink lips wove into a satisfied grin upon her lovely visage. When was the last time she had been told she'd done something right? Cora only ever pointed out what she did wrong and what she did properly was never made mention of. Had she been slave for so long, admiration was a novel to her enthralled senses?

"You've done modestly well for the day." The magical monster noted before she could offer thanks. Turning away he beckoned a talon to her. "Come. We've other things to do than just practice form. You were a little off in your pronunciations. Everything needs to be spot on."

"Is wild magic so dangerous?" Belle asked tentatively as she followed the Dark One through the endless hall of bleak shadow of her mistress's dour stronghold. His boot steps covered two of her own strides as he moved swiftly through the stone apertures like some murderous wraith wandering the bleak corridors.

His lips formed thinly into a thoughtful frown. "Very. Which is why Cora has no qualms with me enlisting you're aid." The fiend informed her studiously. "This is very dangerous. Wild magic, as the name implies, is the only kind that has a mind of its own. Sometimes this type of magic can be painful. If the rituals are not preformed just so, you might die. All the magic is looking for is an opening, to slip through and run wild. One motion, one chant out of place gives the power that chance."

No better task for a useless slave, Belle knew, her soul heavy with despondency. Cora had no interest if she lived or died past her own pleasure in tormenting her when the mood arose. If she had to be sacrificed in the midst of some ritual then so be the circumstance.

"Do you think we can do this?" Belle followed him closely like a second shadow clinging to his wiry form. Her steps muted over his, she lingered like some angel sent from above upon his shoulder.

"Control the magic?" The words barked in a dark mirthless laugh from his throat. A manic trill frilled from his mouth as he flourished his talons. "Nothing in wild magic is certain, Dearie. We could practice for years endless and still go awry. There is action and reaction. The most important part of wild magic is judging what the magic wants to do and countering the want. If you are wise you will live through this. If you cling to my every word as law you might see another sun rise. And if you don't… well there won't be enough for Cora to punish if we are through."

Belle bobbed her head obediently. "I'll try my best." Trepidation hinted the edges of her voice. Her stoic heart fluttered faintly at the thought of such peril. Who knew what the magic was capable of if allowed to break from the constraints set by the rituals.

"Indeed you shall for your sake and for mine." Tittered the fiend whimsically as though the thought of performing the dangerous ritual was but a game. "Let's not forget what you do also effects me."

She could just as easily cause injury for him with her blundering. If she was feeling vengeful or wished a way to get back at Cora that would be the best way to perform such a disastrous feat. If she wished to, just by upending everything she could probably blast herself to oblivion and everything in Cora's castle all in one go.

Of course, he and his lover would survive, but they would not come out unscathed. All the magic Cora had collected as well would have been for not. They would have to start afresh and the blast would indeed perhaps draw the fairies from miles about, sensing the outburst of the wild magic running amuck.

If in his position, Cora would have threatened the girl in every way imaginable. Indeed, the vile witch had given him every vile leave to do whatever he pleased to keep her in line, but he had done nothing, his hand low and threats unspoken.

Surely, Belle already knew what would occur if she failed. There was no need to speak of the dread when she probably already knew what would come from Cora's wicked imagination. Perhaps her only trepidation came from what he would do to her if something went awry.

"I know that fear of punishment is not always the best approach to those who serve." He stopped in the hall and turned to her. The eternal darkness shadowed his face in a cowl of black, but his sable eyes, so dark in their sockets, glowed from the dimness like the pits of the endless deep. "Serve me well and I will reward you well."

Shock flashed over the beauty's visage at the sudden promise. Confusion scrambled through her mind in a sudden jolt that sent her head reeling. Unlike Cora he offered reward instead of a punishment if she failed. Why give her incentive when his lover offered only pain?

Shaking her head the brown haired beauty lowered her eyes in deference to his kindness. "As you say master."

"Rumpelstiltskin." The moniker jumped involuntarily from his thin lips. Why had he just said that? Hiding his confusion away at his own words he stared down upon her like a curious dragon watching a human for the first time. "My name is Rumpelstiltskin. I am not your master."

And he expected her to call him that? Melodious laughter rang joyously through Belle's head merrily at the ludicrous thought. The first and last time she had called Cora's name aloud, the witch had slapped her so hard she had seen double for twenty minutes.

Belle was her slave and she made certain the beauty knew of low a station she was now and forever. No, she did not dare, especially with Cora near.

A nearly shy smile ghosted upon his gray lips at her long silence. What must she be thinking about his strange title? "Odd name, I know."

"I like your name." Belle grinned sincerely to the Dark One. Her pure cobalt eyes glimmered with an aura of truth, dispelling any notion of falsehood. "I don't think it odd at all. The name fits you very well."

He began walking again, slower to match her steps as the threaded their way through the halls. "How so?" He queried, his heart pattering in a strange tattoo from her odd declaration. No one ever said they liked his moniker.

"Well you're not just anybody. You're the Dark One." She flourished her hand in mimicking just as she'd seen him do at times at the table. "Rumpelstiltskin!"

Quiet laughter, almost human, fell from his thin line of a mouth. He had never thought of his name in such a manner. He had always thought his name a terribly strange mouthful his cowardly father had bestowed upon him as one last taunt to say how much he loathed his son.

The fiend would have continued their chat had they not reached the door to their destination. He often wondered about her apt name, and wished to know how the moniker came about. In all truth, he wished to know more about; all about her. Speaking with the beauty was a strange dose of fresh air to his soul.

Cora's words always had malice dripping between his painted lips. Her words were always about vengeance or pain, never simply speaking about pleasantries or names for that matter.

As they neared the portal the spell suddenly ended. Their jovial, curious voices dropped away as one, once more servant and master. Laughter died upon the drafty winds and stole away as a dying dirge throughout the dour keep leaving them where they had began in their brief journey.

The Dark One put a scaled fist to his hand and sternly cleared his throat. His sable orbs laced with coolness surveyed her intently. "Let's get to working on those chants." He muttered officiously. Inwardly he marked the brief conversation in the depths of his sordid heart. Seeing another layer under the servant was certainly… enjoyable.

Gentlemanly, the magical monster held open the door for her. The action never crossed his thought, but they seemed all the more novel to the beauty so long bereft of any kindness or courtesy.

Nodding, Belle trekked bravely inside before him, leaving the woman behind the slave tucked away once more. With a deep breath, the Dark One followed, forcing the being in him she coaxed out back down to the murky pit.

Outside the threshold of the door, they warily shed what they had tenuously begun. Though they were once more master and servant, they left an all but hidden trail in their smiles and laughter showing them where they could go to see the man behind the monster and see the woman behind the maid.