For the next several days, Belle found herself becoming more and more comfortable around her master. At the most unexpected of times, she found her mind wandering to the strange, unpredictable imp of the castle. As she would wander about her daily duties, she found that more and more often the Dark One's face would occupy her thoughts. It would confuse and awe her that she could remember so many details that to anyone else would seem inconsequential. The way his eyes seemed to sparkle when he became over-excited. How he would quirk his lips in a genuine smile that was meant only for her. How when she was around him, he had begun to act differently than the dreaded monster he became on his deals. He was more and more of a man. His scales remained, and yet, when she was privileged to know his touch, his hands were soft and warm. When he had tied her sash only three days ago, she had felt his heart beating steadily against her back as his stony heart pumped inky black blood through his veins. He was kinder to her, more understanding and far more patient. His voice held less of the piggish squeal and more of the deep tones of a man hidden underneath his skin. Secretly, only in her deepest thoughts, Belle wondered if she was affecting him as much as he appeared to be affecting her.
Day by day she grew more and more puzzled by her own self, the person she had known for all twenty-one years of her life. Who was she now? The woman who dared speak her mind to the Dark One? Who blushed when he teased her and averted her eyes when he would stare too long upon her face? How could she find such a black soul to hold so much appeal, as if he compelled her with the mission of bringing him to the light and making him a new man? If only I could find a way...
Belle's thoughts were shattered into an oblivion of nothingness as her clumsiness took root over her senses and she succeeded in tripping over a large pile of boxes that lay resting in the room she was working diligently to clean. Ever since Rumpelstiltskin had tasked her with cleaning all of the rooms on the east wing of the second floor, she had spent her days dusting, sweeping, scrubbing, and polishing until the rooms were clean and she would burst through covered in all manners of grime and filth. It was not that they were rooms in a complete state of disarray. It was more the fact that it looked like no one had cleaned the rooms for centuries. Inches of dust lay upon the furniture. The first thing she would do upon entering the room would be to open the thick drapes. At the kiss of sunshine, it would seem even the belongings of the room would perk up at the sight of light once again.
There were six rooms on the east wing, and likewise on the west. For the past three days she had cleaned a room a day to the best of her ability. Her hands had formed callouses from the work and her arms had become hardened with muscle. Less and less was she the princess, and more and more a hard-working woman. Rumpelstiltskin would have said that she was even prettier now than when they had first meant. Then, of course, he would shake the thought from his head and kick himself hard in the shin.
Today was different for Belle. She could feel it the very moment she stood outside the door of the fourth room she would clean. She sensed sadness. It weighed down on her heart and stifled her. She wondered at the strange, afflicting presence. Her hand had clutched the handle of the door and turned it. As she had stepped inside, she had been met with the familiar darkness and had hurriedly walked across the room to the curtains. Drawing them back from the rod, light stuck through the windows with a fierce determination. She squinted for merely a moment before turning to look upon the room. The familiar feel of sorrow was once again upon her. She looked on curiously as she realized this was no bedroom. There were no pieces of furniture and yet the room still seemed crowded by the overwhelming number of boxes stacked tall.
It was a particularly large tower of boxes that Belle had just tripped over, sending a cascade of wood down upon her. And then, her curiosity peaked again as she saw the articles contained in the boxes scattered all about her. She reached for a piece of fabric and held it in her hands so that she could see it more clearly. It was small, that was the first thing she noticed. It was a small white tunic, thread bare and stained with age, or dirt, she did not know. She held it to her nose and instantly frowned in disgust as the smell of putrid farm reached her nostrils. As she laid her nose to it again, she slowly became adjusted to the smell, all the while wondering why such a thing would be in the possession of the Dark One. Her eyes strayed down to another piece of clothing. Taking it in her hands, she felt the rough material. It was like burlap but it was warm and the same lingering smell of dirt and wood and animal was upon it. It was a shawl, she noticed as she looked over it in her hands.
"Why do you have this?" She whispered in reference to Rumpelstiltskin. Several other small articles of clothing lay around in her, sprawled across the floor, along with several small toys. Wooden objects, mere child's play. For some reason she was surrounded by objects that had belonged to a little boy and her heart thudded with confusion.
A sudden slam of a door brought her out of her thoughts. It was the large door from the Great Hall. She had grown accustomed to its heaviness, but never before had she heard it close so loudly. Right beneath her was the Great Hall, and somewhere, right under her feet, stood Rumpelstiltskin. And by the sounds of the door, he was not likely to be in a good mood.
She sighed. When he became angry, she knew well enough that he often left to his laboratory, high up in the dark tower, where he would remain oftentimes past dinner. He had forbidden her to ever go up there, but she couldn't help but feel the urge to follow him and check to see if he was alright. No, that would only be foolish. She hurriedly tidied up the boxes and got to her cleaning, all the while feeling horrible that her master should be in such a foul mood.
But by the time that she had finished the room and had had dinner finished and sitting on the table for nearly an hour, she was beginning to grow restless. And with no more chores to do for the day, she chose to occupy her time in pacing. Second by second. Minute by minute passed until she threw her arms down in a humph. Her curiosity had won over her self-control and she hurriedly rushed up the two flights of stairs where she knew the door to the tower was. In a moment of courage she turned the knob and began the long descent up the crude stone stairs. How does he make such a long trek? She foolishly asked of herself before she remembered that he had the ability to transport himself anywhere he wished to go. The higher up she went, the darker it was until the space became lit by fewer and fewer torches. Finally, when it seemed it could not get any darker, she felt a warm air blowing at her feet and she stopped. Stretching out a shaking hand, she realized that she had become nervous. Nearly convincing herself to obey her master's wishes and leave, she grabbed the handle and gently turned it. Her heart leapt with the uncertain thought of what she might find inside.
The door creaked slightly as she entered and saw that there was no movement in the room. Absolutely none, but it was unlike anything she had ever seen. This apothecary was well-lit, which surprised her greatly. It was a small, circular room but it contained several tables and workbenches. Vials of assorted mists, a rainbow of colors, filled the fragile vials. Smoke rose from several strange concoctions. Spell books lay all about, pages half-torn, half-wrinkled. But besides all of that, there was nothing in the room. Not even a small greenish-gray monster she had come to find.
Belle chuckled slightly at her foolishness for coming up there in the first place to check on her master. He obviously wasn't in there. She tried to make her feet turn but she couldn't help but wish she could take a moment and explore through the potions and spells. His works and masterpieces.
Just as she was about to leave the room, she felt sharp nails grasp her by the arm. In an instant the door had slammed shut, what few candles had been lit blew out. And she felt herself being pushed against the stony wall. It was wet and slimy to her back, covered in mildew. But she barely noticed that as she saw only the face of the Dark One. His head was completely blocking the sun that was streaming in from the window. She suddenly felt cold as she saw the clear anger written upon his face. His eyes were blazing and his nails were digging into her flesh. His teeth were bared fiercely.
"What are you doing in here?" He growled in rage but his voice was not much higher than a whisper.
Belle was speechless for a moment, stuttering in a haste to form words before she found her bravery and raised her chin, eyes flashing just as brightly as his were dark. "You didn't come down for dinner and I wanted you to know it was ready." Belle hoped that that was not a lie. It may not have been all the truth, but did he need to know that she had been purely worried about him.
He shouted, "I commanded you to never, under any conditions, come up here!" He released her as if she was filthy to his touch. He turned from her to handle one of the vials of his potion. Staring into its center, he hissed, "You disobeyed me, Belle."
She flinched. She had always wanted him to say her real name, but hearing him say it with such malice struck a chord in her heart. There was not a hint of the gentleness she loved when he said her name. It was icy cold, almost as if he was using her monicker as a curse.
She took a step away from the wall and folded her arms primly before her. She swallowed, "I am sorry...master." Her tone was hard too, and she did not know if it was her eyes deceiving her which made her think that he too had tensed at her voice. "Truth is," she breathed in deeply, "I was worried about you not returning."
He turned his head sharply to her and his eyes turned opaque, "Worried, eh, dearie?" He flourished his hands about as the imp so often did, "Why would you be worried about such a one as I?"
"I told you. My name is Belle." She retorted hotly, "And despite what you think, I actually do..." she stopped for a moment and wondered if she dare continue before letting out in scarce a whisper, "Care about you. Scales and all." She tried to giggle light-heartedly.
The Dark One smirked. His anger seemed to have dissipated but he still wore a mask of disapproval. Underneath his skin, his heart thudded at the innocent girl's statement. He turned his eyes away from her and set the vial down. "Well, don't." And some of the malice was back. "I don't need anyone or anything caring about me, ever! The last time that happened I lost everything I held dear." He walked away from her to stand behind the table. Belle took the moment to observe him in the bright sunlight. His features were not as fierce as they had been when he had first been angry at her. Instead, his shoulders slumped over ever so slightly even though he tried to hide it. When he chanced a wary glance at her, she saw unmasked sorrow hidden within his deep orbs. Pity welled up in her throat.
"Rumpelstiltskin," she tried as she stepped closer to the table, "You don't have to be afraid of letting me in. You have not had someone care for you in a long time. Let me help you." She silently plead that he would listen to her and open up, even a bit, to her. He was silent, the sorrow hidden by indifference. "You can tell me anything. I have no one to tell secrets too. After all, I am to remain here for the remainder of my days."
He knew she made a valid point but he chose to seem as if he hadn't heard her and said instead, "I don't need to tell anyone anything, dearie. I have been perfectly fine living by myself for the last two centuries. I think-" He turned to her and stared at her menacingly, "I can do just fine without you."
Belle felt her cheeks redden in anger, while her eyes held only sorrow for him. "Well, then, Rumpelstiltskin, I feel truly sorry for you." She sniffed and forced all of the iciness into her tone that she could, "I will fetch your supper."
"No," he spoke to her softer than he had all night, "Don't bother...Belle." His gentle voice had returned but it cracked as he spoke her name and she knew that something heavy must truly be weighing upon his heart to make him act so unlike himself. Normally, he was so composed. But now...she had never seen him so at a loss to control his emotions.
Without a word, only a curt nod of the head, she left the room and fast shut the door behind her, only to eat dinner in silence.
As soon as he no longer heard her footsteps upon the stone, Rumpelstiltskin sunk down to the floor with his back pressed against the workbench. His head lay back against the solid wood before he brought his hands up to his face to wipe away the already-flowing tears. Frantically he tried to wipe them aside, lest he give into them. But it was no use, not even his magic could relieve the heaviness of his heart as he collapsed into his hands to muffle his sobs. "I am sorry, Bae. I am so sorry," he whispered frantically to the wind, "It seems there will never be a way for us to be together again. Oh, Bae. I'm so sorry, Bae...Bae...Baeeeeeee."
My, my. What on earth has made Rumpelstiltskin so upset? I guess you'll just have to wait to find out! Oh, and I am also looking for suggestions for future chapters for this story. Little one-shots or any plot bunnies that you may have. I would love to know how you too might want this story to go! So pleas,e leave a review with your best ideas, and I will try to include them as I continue to write this story!