Belle threw the fleece over Bae. The wool tingled under her fingers and its orange-red shifted, glinting gold.
Bae didn't move. He didn't start breathing. His face stayed pale as death.
Somewhere, very distant, she could hear Gaston and LaFou talking. Meaningless sounds, like monkeys chittering. But, Gaston's voice kept breaking across her in bits and pieces. He berated LaFou for letting Bae eat the fruit before he'd given a signal.
"It was supposed to look like an accident!"
"I thought he was in the stables. I saw him in the stables. I don't know how he got in behind me—!"
"You should have been watching him!" Gaston said.
Belle interrupted them, if only so she wouldn't have to listen to them anymore. "Bae is—was—a little boy," she said. Her voice sounded strange and far away, as though someone else were speaking with her mouth. Perhaps they were. It didn't feel as though she were the one saying this. "That's what little boys do. They get in where you least expect them and get into trouble."
She looked at Bae, trying to feel something besides emptiness. In that same, strange, dead voice, she asked, "You really thought no one would blame you? How did you think that would work?"
"M—Madame Belle?" LaFou asked. "Are you—are you well?"
Was she well. Why shouldn't she be well? Why shouldn't LaFou think she was well. Even to her own ears, she sounded as though she were making polite conversation about the weather when she could barely interest herself in the answers. A proper court lady. LaFou's master didn't see anything here that should concern her. Why should the servant?
"Did you mean to stand around while Bae ate your poison and then hide the apple?" Belle asked with that same indifference. "Or were you just hoping no one would connect it with you when Bae fell over de—"
No. No. She couldn't say that word. Couldn't think it. The moment she let herself think—No, this wasn't real. None of this was real.
Academic and detached, she went on. "Did you think the Dark One wouldn't realize it was you? Did you think he wouldn't take steps against you?"
Gaston shrugged. He showed no more emotion than Belle did. "The Dark One keeps his bargains. To the letter. I've learned that much about him. And his bargain with Maurice was clear. He won't harm him or his rightful heir. There's no other heir now but me. This is just a game to him. When he finds out he's lost this round, he'll get over it. If anything, he ought to respect the man who's beaten him."
Belle was dimly aware she had stood up. As if her body weren't her own, as if she were watching a puppet show and this was just another wooden doll somewhere far away with someone else pulling the strings. "You think that? You think it won't matter what you've done?"
Gaston shrugged again. "Why should it? You're sentimental, Belle. You've never understood men of the world. If anything, you're the one he should be angry with. If you'd just agreed to marry me, none of this would have happened."
She heard Hordor telling her to be sensible. Jones was telling her it was her choice before he threw her into the hold of the ship. The judge was reprimanding her for disobeying her master. There was disappointment in Maurice's voice as he reminded her of the choices she'd made.
LaFou looked at her uneasily. "Master, we need to go. Give the Dark One time to calm down after he finds this. We—we need to get back to the Marchlands."
Gaston nodded. "You're right. Belle, get into the gig. You're going with us."
Ice. Belle thought of ice, thick layers of it over the rivers and lakes of the Frontlands, so thick you could drive a team of oxen pulling a fully loaded wagon across. Till it broke in the spring, cracking apart in the river floods with a sound like thunder.
"Go with you?"
"You can't stay here. You're no use to the Dark One without the boy, and I doubt you want to explain this mess to him. Besides, I told Maurice I'd bring you back. LaFou, hide the body somewhere they won't find it at first. But us some time. Stuff it in a cupboard or something. Belle, come along." He grabbed her by the arm.
Hordor grabbing her in her own home (telling her to give up Bae and let him die). Jones laughing as he picked her up only to throw her into darkness (Smee begging her not to worry as he tore Bae from her arms). Men laughing as they shoved her down against the wooden deck, the narrow bunks being too small for what they wanted to do (they'd joked about her milk-heavy breasts and dared each other to suck at them before spitting milk in her face). Gaston, telling her to get rid of Bae because he wanted to spend time with her. . . .
Belle twisted her arm free. "I'm not going with you."
Gaston looked surprised as she'd broke away, as if he weren't sure how that had happened—or as if he hadn't expected her to resist. "Don't be stupid, Belle. If he is upset, who do you think will pay for it?" He lunged at Belle again.
Oh, gods, if only the Dark One would kill her when he saw this, if only he would let her die now Bae was—now Bae was—
Belle jumped back, letting Gaston grab at air. "He's not a monster like you, Gaston," she said, and the words hurt because they were true. He wouldn't kill her. And he wouldn't let her kill herself. "And, even if he were, I'd choose him over you. I'd let him tear me in pieces—" If only he would—if only—
"My Lord Gaston," LaFou begged. "Let's go. If she wants to stay here, let her." But, Gaston ignored him, making another grab at Belle.
Belle didn't duck this time. She grabbed the candelabra behind her and swung it as hard as she could against Gaston. "Don't touch me!"
The candelabra never reached him. Instead, Gaston went flying back on his own, crashing into the wall.
He stared at her. "What. . . ?"
Belle stared back.
Nettles and gold. To protect her.
Spells on the house, so the Dark One said, to keep her safe. Her and Bae.
But, those spells had failed. Why?
Because of the bargain, because Gaston was Maurice's heir?
Because he'd gotten ahold of some kind of magic that the house was vulnerable to but the nettle dress protected her from?
Then why hadn't the Dark One given Bae the same protection?
No. Please, gods, no.
Because he'd been trying to make it up to her, ever since the inn and the blizzard, he'd been doing everything he could to make her feel safe.
Oh, gods, no, don't let Bae be dead because of me, because I was protected and he wasn't. Don't, do that to me. I beg you. Please.
The prayer wasn't enough. It felt wrong, too far from what she really wanted to say, too selfish and self-centered, too far from the truth in her heart.
Please, I don't care why this has happened. I don't care if it's my fault or Gaston's. Just don't let Bae be dead. Let me die instead of him. Make it more horrible than Jones' death, more horrible than any torture any human being has ever suffered. Send me back to Jones' ship. Let the men do whatever they want to me without rest. Let them think up new nightmares no one has ever imagined. Let me suffer for all eternity. Just don't let my son be dead.
Nothing changed. She was still safe. Still protected.
"Protection," Belle said, the thoughts in her mind still not touching her voice. "The Dark One protected this place." She walked to where Gaston still lay sprawled against the wall, kneeling down by his side.
Gaston rubbed the back of his head and glared at her. "You shouldn't have done that. I'm only trying to help, Belle."
No anger, no fury at that statement. She should feel both, not this calm indifference. "Do you believe that?" she asked, nothing more than curious. "You're helping me?"
"Why else would I do this?"
It was Belle's turn to shrug. "Greed. Pride. Stupidity. Madness. I suspect madness. How did you stay alive during the war, Gaston? When someone told you your plan would get them all killed, did you ignore them, too? Or is it just women? Or just women who are, well, you know."
He was reaching the end of what little patience he had. "Belle. . . ." Gaston began, ready to reprimand her like a child.
She ignored him, not caring enough to tell him how tired she was of him treating her this way. "You may be right about the Dark One. I don't know. Not that it matters. You're right that he won't kill you." She reached for the hilt of the dagger he wore at his side. Gaston always kept it well oiled. It slid out easily from its sheathe. "I will."
Gaston's eyes widened. She could see the disbelief in his face. Even now, after everything, he expected her to bow her head and do what he said.
Well, why not? It was what she'd done every day for nearly three years (three centuries). Why should he believe she'd changed? Or that she'd never been that way at all? That everything she'd done had been done for one reason, to protect Bae?
Believing or not, years of training didn't desert him. He didn't believe this was happening, but he still lifted one arm to block her while reaching to grab her by the wrist with the other.
She remembered fighting Jones. Trying to fight him. She knew how it ended when a large man who knew how to fight was challenged by a small, untrained woman like her. But, the same force that had thrown him back before now knocked Gaston's arms aside.
Another thing Belle remembered from her time with Jones. She'd seen how he slid his blade straight into that old man's chest, slipping past the ribs and going straight for the heart. She'd seen it a thousand times in nightmares. Even if she wanted, she couldn't forget how it was done. And, right now, she had no desire to forget how it was done.
"Why?" Gaston gasped, his last look one of baffled confusion. As if she were betraying him.
"You killed my son, Gaston," Belle said, pulling the blade out and striking again. "You killed my son!"
The river flooded. The ice broke. Belle stabbed him again and again, screaming those words at him till they became nothing more than screams and she couldn't see him for the tears flooding down her face.
X
LaFou stared at the madwoman in front of him. He hadn't been sure if he trusted his master's blind belief the Dark One would laugh off his losses here, but he'd known he was wrong about Madam Belle. LaFou's brother had stayed in their home village to run the family tavern while LaFou came south to seek his fortune.
One of their best customers was a hunter. The tavern was always packed when he came in from the woods, chock-full of spine-tingling tales of the adventures he'd faced. He'd told a tale once about a mother bear protecting her cub from a vicious male out to kill her child. The male was over twice her size and had cornered her at a cliff's edge, where she had refused to give up, holding the male off for hours.
During that time, the hunter had managed to climb up to the rocky ridge where the pair were facing off, till he was close enough to take a shot with his bow. He'd only wounded the male, though, which turned on him, ready to kill.
The mother had taken the opening and lunged, tearing the male's throat out with her teeth. As he fell dead, she had turned and snarled at the hunter. Fighting for survival, he'd expected her to just run off now her enemy was dead. But, she had recognized another threat, albeit one that had helped her, and wasn't going to wait for him to get another arrow in place and shoot her.
He only lived because the cub, after hours of terror, broke and ran away from them both, desperate to be away from its dead enemy. The mother, ignoring the man, ran off after him.
LaFou had suspected Madam Belle could give at least as good an account of herself as a bear.
But, Gaston was an experienced fighter and he'd found that magic apple among the odd magics Lady Rosamonde's family had guarded. If things had gone well, they would have been on the road back to the Marchlands before Madam Belle ever saw what had happened to the boy. LaFou, thinking of mother bears, had not wanted to see what happened next.
Watching the knife plunge again and again into Gaston as she screamed at her son's killer, LaFou knew he hadn't guessed the half of it.
Her face was splattered with blood except where streaks of tears cut through. Was she even human anymore? Maybe this was something the Dark One had done, transforming her into a demon. Maybe this wild orgy of killing was the final transformation—and he was trapped in here with her.
LaFou wanted a way out before Madam Belle remembered he was here. But, the only way out meant stepping over Gaston and past the lady and her blade. So, he stood there, frozen, while she spent her fury on Gaston's corpse, hoping nothing else would interrupt her before she'd worn herself out.
Fate wasn't that kind.
Madam Belle stopped. Her screams sounded more like sobs and she looked exhausted, crushed. It might have been a good thing, if she hadn't looked up from Gaston, making horrible, gasping, sobbing noises, and stared at LaFou.
And if she hadn't still had the dagger in her hand.
X
Gaston was dead.
Belle wasn't sure when she realized that or how long he had been staring up at her with blank, empty eyes.
She jerked back, suddenly realizing what she had done. The smell—it was worse than the smell of butchered beasts, worse than the smell of men keelhauled or flogged. She looked up—
—And saw LaFou staring at her in mute horror.
Belle felt her owm wave of horror at LaFou, at Gaston, at everyone and everything that had let this moment happen. Her hand tightened on the knife.
"Get out," she snarled at LaFou. "Get out. Getoutgetoutgetout."
Your place, the Dark One had promised her. You will have power to forbid even me. If you want.
Something—the same force that had thrown Gaston against the wall—picked up LaFou and sent him crashing through the nearest window. She saw him hurrying away to the winter beyond her borders, not knowing or caring if it was his own will or magic that was carrying him away.
Belle turned back to Bae. The dagger slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor.
She put her blood-covered hand to feel the pulse at his throat again, to try and feel his breath.
"Please, Bae," she whispered. "Please. Mama's here. Be all right. Be all right. For Mama. Please."
Nothing.
His skin was cold beneath her hand.
Belle picked him up, still wrapped in the fleece, clutching him to her chest as she rocked him, the same way she had when he was a baby, her breath coming in painful gasps.
She reached for her locket, clutching it like a lifeline.
Rumplestiltskin, I'm sorry. I let this happen. I failed you. I failed Bae. I—I—
There weren't words for this. A sound broke out of her, half scream, half sob.
"Gods, Rumplestiltskin, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, Rumplestiltskin, help me, help me!"
Any other words were lost as she held her son's cold body, still rocking him in her arms.