A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Have a good Thanksgiving tomorrow! EAT EVERYTHING! :3
~8~8~
Soft tendrils of gray dawn light slipped insipidly through the deep crimson panes of Cora's dreaded castle tower. Bleary, sleepy rays heralding the new day showered the large, dim room with a dark scarlet hue akin to the rust color of dried blood over the tables and shelves and books heaped about.
Though the morning was upon them, the night had offered a rare delight for Cora.
In a shadowed corner by the hearth, Cora's pet raven fluttered his inky wings as though stretching from some nightmarish toil. Every so often the carrion fowl dipped his silver beak in his jet black plumage and arranged his feathers like some noblemen straightening his tunic. His blood dot eyes stared upon the Dark One and his cruel mistress as they stood in the deplorable apothecary so early in the morn.
The night was laden with excitement for the fowl who came and went at his owners behest. In the long hours of slumber Cora oft opened a tower window and sent her coveted pets to locate any powerful magic's that would pique her interest. They flew over the realms, black dots darker than the darkest night peering into every nook and cranny for a hint of power and last night had yielded a fair reward.
Immediately, with the sense of powerful magic lingering about, he had winged his way back to his mistress with the news of what his dark being sensed. How happy she had been! She had stroked his feathers affectionately, and cooed in her soothing voice for the fine job in searching out such magic.
Her eyes, more wicked than his own gleamed with scheming wrought of her infinitely cruel mind. Though he was merely a simple animal, the raven could ascertain what his mistress had in mind. By every step and word she spoke he could guess what she entailed in the night and now to her evil lover in the beginning of the day.
"A mirror." The Dark One echoed to Cora incredulously. Knee high black boots padding a steady rhythm upon the stone, the fiend paced the vile apothecary thoughtfully at the mention of such an item. His sable eyes narrowed upon his lovers evil depths with dubious intent as he stalked back and forth with a tigers dangerous, preying grace.
The witch nodded her head imperiously, her face holding no inkling of fabulist falsehood. "That's right. You know how I send my ravens out to locate any scrap of the old, forgotten magic. I received news last night, while you were downstairs, of an enchanted mirror."
Like some aimless ghost the evil sorceress drifted gracefully to a stone window sill. Her cunning eyes stared out from the ruby panes below to the barren, dead grounds of gnarled tress and gray soil of her castle. Without a shadow of a doubt, she knew, such a thing would catch his interest.
When they had been together years before, to seek things that could pry the veils of their word and leap into another had been an obsession for him. In the centuries that passed them the passion for such things had dimmed somewhat, but any whiff of an item that could achieve his goal had him once more scrambling about.
"A mirror that can see what you truly want?" A hint of hope pierced through the suspicions of his low, impish tone. Eagerness tugged in a ethereal cord against his black heart. The thought of such a treasure set his mind to far off realms that could house such a wonder and to live his dream and make amends to the one he let go.
Her lips curved into a ruby crescent. He was like a foolish fish about to bite a wriggling worm speared on a hook. "Not just what you truly want, Rumpel; different places as well. Any place to see anyone."
"Bae." The fiend whispered the name like a solemn promise. Pain slashed over his rough features as the fond moniker for his boy, long lost to him, left his mouth. With such an exquisitely powerful enchanted thing he could look into the mysterious star filled shrouds that walled the worlds from one another's eyes and find his boy at long last.
That was delicate territory, Cora knew imperatively. Anything about his boy was a line she knew all her cruelty could not cross. She could not offer him false hope, nor could she squish his belief.
Her carnelian mouth pulled to side. "Do you still think he's-"
"Yes." The magical monster cut in softly, his voice slaughtering the implication she offered. "He is alive. I know in my heart he is."
Taking a deep breath, the witch feigned encouragement to her lover. "Then go find the mirror Rumpel. Perhaps you will see your son and wherever he went."
"Were do I find the mirror?" His lips barely pried apart for the inquiry. Talons folded behind his back, the Dark One eyed his love from behind. The infamous imp he was, but when matters of the heart came to the fore, he seemed once more the man. Standing tall, he looked every inch the eager, noble human with a quest in his vision.
Tracing a finger over the cold pane, the witch cut a quick grin. The reflection of the glass caught her smile, showing her lush ruby lips to the Dark One who looked not at her but her scarlet reflection from the panes. "A troll is said to covet the mirror in his lair under some far away fen. His name is Grendel."
"No wonder no one has discovered the mirror." The fiend snorted a low mirthless chuckle.
Grendel, legend told, was one of the strongest trolls in all the realms. Trolls themselves, even the most common, were no weak challenge. Even if he wasn't the strongest of his race, the thought of battling a troll was not something anyone looked forward too. Towering and thickly corded with muscles, their sheer strength alone could tear a man in half and still have strength to battle a whole party of warriors and blooded knights. All trolls possessed regenerative properties along with their savage, bestial ferocity. While magic could affect them, great quantities was required to do them pain.
Luckily, most were recluses and the famous Grendel was no exclusion. His habitation was said to be in the bottom of a murky fen that none before could swim too. If any treasure was to be had, there was a good a place as any to find one.
Turning around the witch vapidly glided to him. Placing a small, delicate hand on his shoulder, her almond eyes stared with painted hope into his listless black depths. "That is the only way to get the mirror I fear. Trolls aren't known to deal in bargains. Brute force will be the only way to get what you want."
"Oh believe me, Dearie." The fiend stared down into her rich, wicked eyes, his black orbits glinting flecks of golden greed. A feral, dappled grin split his lips. "Nothing will stop me from getting that mirror.
Inside the depths of her soul, the witch couldn't help but laugh at the beastly fool. Of course nothing would stop him from obtaining something she could use as well. Let him have all the peril; she would reap the reward.
~8~8~
Belle hummed a pleasant, bucolic tune to herself as she carried the laden tea tray through the dreary, dawn kissed halls of her mistress' foul keep. Shadows hedged her all around in the corridors, promising only despair and darkness, but even the ghastly shades of Cora's citadel could not touch the bright flare of her soul.
Something strange beamed like a new sun in her heart, and any darkness that neared was shred away into a thin mist of nothingness taken away by the winds of joy.
The thought of the glass, wine rose carefully tucked away in her cell bolstered her spirits by no mean sum. His gestured tattooed her heart and sent her spirit free with thoughts that never dared arrive in her head before he came.
Happiness soared upon eagles wings in her heart. Her soul, coaxed out of the blackness of the broken slave girl, burned with a leaping flame that could not be doused by even the darkest of shadows. All about her the blackness shied away to her light and she strode down the halls a proud, bright flame; the flame Rumpelstiltskin roused.
Every thought she held as she toiled was too the Dark One. Every soft breath held his name in a tender whisper.
Shifting the gilded silver tray in her calloused grip, the jubilant beauty opened the door leading to the main hall. Her heart pattered erratically at the thought of seeing him again even though only a night separated them. A smile perched upon her lovely face as she danced into the gilt chamber. "Good morning Rum…"
"Expecting someone else, slave?" Cora replied insouciantly to the beauty as the girls words died upon her lips.
Draped like a lounging cat in the Dark One's normal chair, the wicked witch stared at the enslaved woman caught in her sights. Her thin legs dangled off the edge of the padded armrest like the Dark One did at times, a malicious caricature of the imp who normally sat in the seat. Her cunning orbs studied the enthralled girl that got up early simply to serve the Dark One first.
Immediately, Belle dipped her head subserviently, her instincts that were instilled in her for five years racing through her blood. Part of her wished to back away and disappear into the darkness, but there was no use now. Her feet shuffled over the cold stone as she brought the tray to the large oaken table. "Mistress I didn't know you'd be up." She began to lay the meal out carefully.
"I suppose you thought your master would be sitting here." The sorceress replied, her ruby lips curling into a sinister grin. She shrugged her thin shoulders, her tone suddenly careless. "Well he's gone for the day, off to collect some trinket." Syrupy honey laced her voice. "Which leaves just me and you." The last words carried a tinge of ominous forbearance.
For all her plotting and planning, for all her schemes and cunning the truculent envy she felt for her slave was a mighty force washing against her black soul and swelling her emotions to a flood. Jealousy bloomed dark, foul blossoms along her black, porous heart that twined upon the twitching husk. Rage coiled in a cataract about her soul, flowing with the molten lava of untamed fury with every view of the woman to whom her lover endowed his attentions.
Now, with Rumpelstiltskin departed on his own consuming quest, her anger rose back to the fore. How dare she be shown up by some… slave chit.
Calloused hands sturdy to her task, the beauty forced her nerves to cease there trembling as she set toil. "Yes mistress." She replied far stronger than she felt. Working at an even pace she gathered a tea cup, not Rumpel's she noted with a flare of happiness, and poured the tantalizing brew. She and the Dark One always shared morning tea so there was no fear of her mistress putting her wicked lips to his cup.
Despite her fear, courage rose up to her brave heart as she tasked for her slaver. The woman the Dark One had managed to coax out of the shadows was not going to go back to the darkness simply for the slave who managed to survive for five years to return replete and obedient.
"Did you enjoy your victory yesterday slave?" The malicious witch queried in taunting politeness as she watched the girl work in silent swiftness. "Your meaningless, futile victory?" Taking the doctored tea cup from the table before the girl was finished, the sorceress heafted the cup in mocking. "A toast to a cunning slave girl." Dark, almond eyes still stapled upon the beauty, the cruel witch tipped the cup and poured the hot brew to the stone.
Runnels of brown, sweet smelling tea splashed into the floor by her chair with the insulting gesture. Hot tea gushed through the striations of the porous black rock as she made certain the last drop found a place on the floor at the base of her chair.
Placing the cup down on the table slowly, the witch smiled almost amiably, and tented her fingers beneath her chin. With every moment of her cruel actions, her plans were taken out from the beach of plotting to the sea of jealousy boiling remorselessly in her heart. There needed to be a revival course for the slave girl, she surmised promptly. The chit was getting too bold, too brave once again and she had spent enough time stamping out that bright flame of Belle four years before.
"Go on slave." Cruelty liberally laced her smooth, soothing timbre. Flares of hot, blistering envy glinted like sparks in her cunning, narrowed eyes. "Have another drink to your victory."
Cold shards of fury frilled like frost upon the beauty's heart at the sight. Rage beat a mighty tattoo against her brave heart, chasing away the last insipid shreds of gray terror lingering over her soaring soul. If she meant to cow her slave she had instead done the exact opposite.
The last time Cora had done such a thing, she had been forced to lap up the last of the drink. That, so many years ago, had been when the real Belle broke under the cruelty of her mistress. That had been when her body and mind thought resisting was no longer worth the pain and humiliation. On that day she had crumpled and remained the cowed slave wishing only to survive a day without being beaten until Rumpelstiltskin had arrived.
Hate smoldered like cold icy fire in her azure eyes. There was no way she would let that humiliation happen again. The broken, cringing Belle was gone now and forever.
"Slave." Cora's voice crackled dangerously, her eyes hard as stone. The smile fell from her lips into an angered frown. A spell worn finger pointed at the mess. "Drink." She spat venomously, demanded she be obeyed.
A cold smile drew upon the beauty's lips pink lips. "You first." She parried coolly with as much ice as the witch hissed her acrid bile.
Magic flared out like an awaiting serpent from Cora's fingertips even as the words fell from Belle's mouth. Massive dark talons of magic shot through the drafty air and grasped at the enslaved beauty's slender form. Curling over her work worn body, the razor claws squeezed their prey tight at Cora's behest.
With but a spare thought, the witch pushed the claws to the wall. Her mind commanded every singled inch of magic that captured the beauty to instill pain. In a breath she could have snapped the girls neck, but such punishment was too swift.
Apparently, the vile witch noted grimly, the girl wasn't as broken as she once believed. There was still fire there, an ember she had not put out but was now back to a roaring blaze in her soul.
Belle grunted as her back slammed against a cold stone pillar. Grit crusted away from the column as she felt her body and bones dig into the stone. Holding back a cry of abject pain, her cobalt eyes stared fearlessly into the cruel dots of the wicked sorceress. She knew what would happen to resist or to simply apologize and lap the tea off the floor, but even death seemed better than being under Cora's heel again.
Crazed fury danced wildly in the dark mistress' orbits as she ordered the magic to squeeze the girl tighter. Sharp, black talons clawed wantonly into the girls flesh, trying to find purshace. Splotches of vibrant blood stained the ragged golden dress as the nails bit into her skin.
A wild, wide smile bloomed upon her carnelian lips as she dug the pointed talons into the girl's unprotected flesh again with a mental command to the magic. To see her writhe and shriek sparked sadistic cruel delight in her mind.
Jealously ran rampant in the witch's onyx husk of a heart, her emotions too loose to be reigned. "Foolish of you slave." The witch smiled venomously, her voice a dark sliver of giddy, malicious anticipation. "You should have waited until your master was back. At least he might have protected you from this."
A bloody scream tore from Belle's lips as the witch, finally, since the Dark One entered her citadel, got her cruel hands on her slave girl again.
~8~8~
The mirror was his! The Dark One chuckled aloud as the enchanted trinket came like a burning beacon to his mind. The magic mirror, a thing to stare into different places, was his!
Stalking happily through the woodland that concealed the castle of his lover, the magical monster enjoyed the deplorable aura of the forest all about him. The dread of the woodland certainly let one think or preen on some dastardly accomplishment.
Oily black blood stained his brown, tight clothes in a menagerie of smear and splotches wrought from a gory battle with the troll as he let his thoughts slip to the long hours before. Grendel had been quite a challenge even for him.
The simplest of magic spells merely bounced off his thick sable hide like pebbles thrown at a giant. Only the heaviest magic made the monster stagger and even then only a fair amount. Rows of yellow, bloody teeth sought to rip him in two, but magic and intelligence had save him in the tussle.
In the end he managed to rip off of the monsters bulging left arm. The beast screamed a death shriek that still made his ears ring, and departed from his underwater lair, leaving the Dark One to take his time gathering the treasure he sought.
In the search for the mirror he came across troves of treasure but none sparked his interest. Pearls and rubies and jade were all useless to him. He wanted one thing alone more powerful than anything else the troll had seized.
In lengthy searching he had finally come across the tool. The mirror had lain like forgotten refuse under a hoard of yellowed and bleached bones and rotting flesh from victim's torn limb from limb in the troll's ravenous gluttony and rage.
With his treasure he returned to the surface world. Black blood led in a zigzagging trail through the murky fens but he had no doubt Grendel would soon be dead. Besides for that, he held his treasures.
After giving the mirror a good scrub on the surface world, he finally observed his spoils taken from one beast to another. The enchanted tool was an oval hand mirror noble ladies from used. Silver crafted in swirls and roses held the mirror and the handle was of a flowers thorny stem. On the back of the mirror, scrawled in ancient writ a dedication for "Genevieve" was inscribed but nothing more.
In all simplicity, the mirror looked like some simple thing found in any noble ladies toilet, but then again, he knew, simple things could be most deceiving. With spoils in hand, he packed the treasure carefully in a satchel and headed home.
Patting the brown leather satchel at his side the fiend let an exuberant smile tip his gray-gold face. He couldn't wait to show Belle his treasure. The darkness in him bit viscously at his soul for the expectant thought, but the fiend ignored the sting. Belle deserved to be shown the trinket, and, he knew deep in his soul, she deserved the right to use the mirror first.
Her plight, even with thoughts of seeing his boy again for the first time in centuries, shadowed over his black heart. For five years she had no knowledge of her family or there whereabouts. She hadn't looked upon her fathers face in half a decade nor seen her homeland.
His grin widened upon his lips as the though of the new gift stuck in his mind. Oh yes, she would be ecstatic to see him. Pride flooded his heart at the thought and what would tag along with her joy.
A smile, one he treasured in the depths of his black soul would certainly spread upon her lips. The smile would be for him, all for him. She would be so happy perhaps she would hug his neck like in the forest or even… even.
Abruptly, something struck the Dark One in a wave of pain. Caught off guard, the fiend staggered to a sudden stop. The world was still dark and quiet, but something did not sit right in his blood.
An ill omen lingered in his misbegotten heart as the black walls of Cora's castle came into view from the fringe of the accursed woods.
His heart lurched painfully in his heart nearly making him fall to the ground and clutch at his chest. A grimace painted his lips as he eyes the black walls through the lattice of trees of the woods.
Something wasn't right….
~8~8~
Pain such as Belle had never known bombarded her in all directions. Lances of agony flared through her body with each slow pointed throb of her brave heart. Blood seeped from endless wounds and clung to her bruised skin.
How long the pain struck her body, the beauty didn't know. At times, the pain felt as though she had been tormented for days on end and at times she felt as though they were for moments and she would wake to fine herself coming out of a nightmare.
What little shafts of happy sun streamed through the windows in the morning were long gone leaving only a magical fire in the hearth and the massive panes black as her mistress' heart. Shadows danced upon the walls like cavorting demons in her murky double vision as though waiting for their turn to rend her skin with their razor claws and devour her blood.
"Useless, stupid, foolish slave!" Cora shrieked down mercilessly upon the injured Belle. Her body heaved in trembling fury as she stared down upon the bloody figure. Unfathomable rage coursed through her raging veins, turning her blood to mists.
Hours upon hours she had tormented her, but the girl refused to break into the weak slave girl. What was once an obedient slave who cringed at every wave of her mistress hands was now a piece of unbendable stone that would not be broken by strikes to mere flesh and curses.
"Obey me slave." The witch hissed like some foul viper with prey bound in the coil of scales. "Tell me what you are!"
Belle barked a bloody cough in tortured reply to her captor. A gory mist of her ruby ichor spewed in every direction as she writhed weakly in a pool of her own warm blood. Her body was cut with small incisions from magical claws in an infinite amount of places along her slender assiduous form, allowing her to bleed out little by little in the most tortuous pain imaginable. A larger cut gashed over her left eye making her mistress seem double in her blurry vision. At times she blacked out, but Cora was always there to make certain that peace was never for long. Black and blue bruises liberally dappled her body in a menagerie of contusions what hurt on the inside was too numerous to count. Her throat was ragged from screaming and her nerves all pulsed with pain.
Chocking back a clot of blood, the beauty looked up to her captor. "Don't hit me anymore." Her voice came out strong even in her pain.
"Then obey." Murder fringed Cora's dark voice, her eyes solid stone. The muscles in her jaw tightened in a clamp of frustrated rage. "You did once. Do so again. Obey me slave and break. Tell me what you are and this all goes away."
Weakly, the beauty tossed her umber head. Defiance glinted even sharper in her teary cobalt depths. "Never." The word rang clear and sturdy from her raspy throat. Never again would she be that woman who bowed and scraped to avoid pain, who allowed fear to dictate her life.
The witch lifted her spell worn fingers again. Black, foul magic wrapped cruel vines about her hand as she summoned magical thorns to her knuckles to assail the helpless Belle. "Then I suppose we will just have to con-."
Abruptly something strong wrapped about her magic laden wrist. Sharp black nailed claws dug ruthlessly into the flesh of her wrist before she could let her magic fly and assault the beauty. Powerful magic cut off her own, strangling her mystic skill to a dead halt.
Sharply turning about in confusion the witch found herself looking into the eyes of an enraged beast.
"Don't. Touch. Her." Jagged tongues of anger slipped from his snarling lips, his mouth forming every single word like a declaration of death aimed at the cruel witch. Fire danced wildly in Rumpelstiltskin's obsidian eyes. The aura of a raging dragon took hold of his dark heart.
For a brief moment panic cleared the witch's pallid face in a wall of terror. Her anger had overridden all her good sense with the unruly Belle in her sights. She had let time slip from her fingers like sand and had given not a thought to the Dark One's return to her fortress. "Rumpel." She stammered in a gasp.
"Don't you dare touch her!" His voice roared like thunder in her face. Using his power he slammed the sorceress to the wall. The grip on her wrist stood just on the precipice of crushing every bone below her hand.
Anger boiled in a hurricane in his heart. Fury bellowed in his soul, adding wind to his fire. To see Belle, his Belle, bloodied and beaten brought a degree of fury to him he had never know. Red coated his eyes as he aimed for her tormenter.
Sheer hate bloomed for Cora in his heart. His stomach roiled in disgust at the thought of even ever bedding her. The thought of simply ripping her head off her shoulders seemed the best idea ever to enter his mind.
"Rumpelstiltskin." Cora gasped, her breath caught with terror and pleading. Almond eyes searching his sable dots the witch saw only murder. He was deaf to her words, and for the first time in many years she was actually afraid. Of all the people who could slay her, he was the only one.
In reply his grip tightened. Bones snapped in her wrist as though they were frail sticks.
A how of pain broke from Cora's lips as he smashed her wrist to bony pulp. A simple magical spell would heal the pain, but for the moment, the agony was torture.
Letting go, the Dark One allowed the witch to slide to the floor to hold her hand. Utter hatred filled his eyes for her. "If you ever touch her again. I will kill you." Icy murder frilled his tone. With his current state part of him was surprise he hadn't ripped her throat out, but no, for all his rage he could not slay her.
Abruptly as his rage came, his rage dissipated in dragon smoke. Letting his hands fall away he turned back to the helpless, bleeding Belle. Feet barely making a sound over the blood stained floor, the beast neared the broken body of the beauty.
Pain speared his heart with a barbed, poisoned shaft that went through his soul and down to the very base of his being. The sight of her bloodied and bruised crushed his heart into a thousand pieces. Her body was limp and unconscious from the pain Cora heaped upon her. She probably hadn't even been awake long enough to see him deal with her tormenter.
Thoughts all for her circulated his mind on a dreaded carousel? Why had Cora done such a thing? Why hadn't he gotten there sooner?
"Oh Belle." The fiend whispered painfully below his breath. Kneeling down he stared in horror of the blood. "My Belle…."
Carefully as though picking up the most delicate of trinkets, the beast scooped the beaten, bloody woman in his strong arms. Holding her close to his aching chest, the fiend carried her away from the main hall and the woman who preformed such cruelty. She felt as light as a floating sun mote in his scaled claws, and equally as frail between his sharp, dexterous talons.
With a magical command he disappeared in a puff of purple smoke from the main hall to another part of the castle. Taking her to a gilt room on the second floor the Dark One laid her like a feather upon the bed. Magic surged and galloped riotously in his black blood as though racing to be the first from his fingertips to aid the beauty.
Snapping his talons, the Dark One brought forth a wet rag and basin formed from his magic. The conjured items appeared in a spurt of purple by the bedside as he moved to more powerful magic.
Battling the troll Grendel had tired him into laborious fatigue, but nothing would stop him from relieving the pains of his Belle. Even if he had to take them on himself he would ease her suffering. Outstretching his claws like some ancient shaman, he hovered his talon like hands carefully over beaten body.
Letting his puissant power flow through his fingertips he began to knit the wounds inside and out of her beautiful form. Slowly, her soft flesh began to knit together with his power. Blood surged to the rightful place in her form as he channeled his powers over her bloody skin. Cuts formed together and lefts not a trace of a scar. Even the gash above her eyes melted away, leaving the same beauty that had been.
In what seemed no large amount of time, the Dark One knitted every wound and stitched every hurt. His sable eyes peered down upon the beauty as he judged her stability. She was fully healed, but the magic would take a few minutes before she was back on her feet.
"Belle?" The Dark One called her name tenuously as the power receded from his fingertips. A hard lump bobbed in his throat to see the stains of torment upon her, his Belle. She didn't deserve anything the witch had done.
Just remembering the basin of cold water, the Dark One plucked up the soft gray cloth in the liquid. Dabbing the cool cloth to her features he painstakingly cleaned off the blood the witch eked out. His gray-gold claws moved with the most delicate of care as he rid his Belle of the stains of torment.
Vapidly, the beauty's eyes fluttered open as the water kissed her fevered skin. Her deep cobalt orbs darted wildly as consciousness took her again. Horror welled in her eyes for a moment, uncertain what had occurred. The last thing she had seen before unconsciousness were black thorns of magic entwined on Cora's knuckles aimed to bore into her flesh.
Struggling like some mad woman caught in a trap, the beauty fought to get up. If she had any amount of energy to fight her tormenter she would. "I won't." She flailed out blindly. "I will never surrender myself again!"
"Peace, Belle." Rumpelstiltskin placed a claw on her shoulder softly. "You're alright." A tear rolled down his gray gold cheek in a track of sorrow. The pain in her voice made him want to die. "You're alright."
Gulping hard, the beauty finally allowed her pulse to slow as he struggling ceased. Her heart backfilled crazily in her chest, threatening to soar out of her body, but his words soothed her nightmares of terror. "Rumpel?" Her blood smeared lips fumbled for his wonderful name. "Are you really with me. This isn't a trick?"
"No Belle." He stroked the side of her bloodied face he had not had time to clean. "I'm here." Pain choked his throat in a agonizing vice. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to prevent this. Oh Belle I'm sorry. That will never happen again. I promise. You're under my protection now. I won't let her get within a foot of you, my Belle." He swore in a solemn oath to the beauty. Never would he let such happen again.
Swept into the emotion of his blood bound vow, the beauty wrapped her arms about his neck. Safety warmed her heart from the icy terror the harpy induced. "Rumpel." Her voice sobbed with pain and gratitude. "You saved me. I knew you would."
Caught in the moment, the Dark One carefully wrapped his arms about her, holding her tight. Guilt remorselessly bombarded his black, shriveled heart. Though he had saved her, he was too late. She had been subject to indescribable torments all while he was ambling about, heedless to her pain.
Hot tears from the beauty soaked through his brown twill tunic. Her body heaved against him as she wept in the relief and pain of everything that occurred.
"It won't happen again." He buried his face in the crook of her neck. How he wanted to be strong for her, but he couldn't even protect her from pain. "Never."
A ludicrous laugh slid from her blood flecked mouth. "I know." She whispered softly into his skin. "I know."
Disentangling herself a bit from his grasp, the enslaved beauty stared at him. A strange look wrought of his rescue glittered in her clear sapphire eyes. His actions seemed to connect the last piece of a puzzle in her soul that opened a long locked chest in the very base of her heart.
Frozen in her stare that enraptured him so, the Dark One was numb as the beauty leaned and nearly, so very nearly pressed her lips to his. Sweetness from her supple pink lips and the iron taste of her blood exploded in his mouth in a kaleidoscope of tastes. Her full, supple lips were just nearly upon his thin gray mouth in a moment's passion.
Forever he seemed lost in the limbo of her lips skirting his, daring to seal the bond of mouth to mouth, and then the sweetness, like all wondrous things, was gone.
Parting her lips from his, the beauty looked aghast. Terror and fascination and wanting all mingled in her gaze. What had she nearly done?
"I'm sorry." Belle covered her blood stained mouth in horror. Spots of her ichor still painted his gray lips, holding testament of what almost occurred. "I'm so sorry." She sobbed.
Rising in an ungainly fashion from the bed, the hurt beauty raced to the closed portal. With renewed strength coxed to life by what had nearly transpired, she hurled the door open and took off down the stairs in the sweep of emotions and pain.
In the excitement of her dash, the cloth he used to clean her blood away wafted down to the floor by his feet, leaving the blood the only thing left of the beauty.
Solid as stone kneeling at the edge of the bed, the Dark One watched the last place she sat, his heart boiling over with turmoil and emotion. With the near kiss there was no hiding the secret in the corner of his own heart. The shadow was banished in the bright flare of her lips, leaving no more doubt or denial.
Nothing could hide the truth from his soul.
He loved her.