Rumpelstiltskin summoned Belle's clothes and left her dress up in private in his rooms while he descended to the dining room for a late breakfast or an early lunch. He didn't feel hungry at all, but decided it'd be better for them to carry on with the routine. Belle joined him a few minutes later and he rose at her presence, but before he could move, the girl grabbed the back of the wooden chair and with the loudest screeching noise dragged it across the floor to the head of the table where he was sitting.
"I could use some company," she explained merrily and Rumpelstiltskin arched one of his eyebrows.
"You realise that I could have done it by magic - faster and without all the noise?"
Belle only smiled at that. "Sure, but then I'd not have seen this puzzled expression on your face," she replied cheekily, before sitting down and filling her plate. He only rolled his eyes at that, because really, she was picking up too much of his snark. Perhaps he had to guard his tongue with her further on; the girl learnt all too quickly.
She'd always been a tactile person, but Belle seemed to touch him even more now – small things like a fleeting touch on the hand or a brush of her knee against his hip under the table. Small things indeed, but he stored away those moments, to cherish them later, for when their time together came to an end… Rumpelstiltskin dreaded the moment. She said she'd stay, but would she truly, after their agreement was no longer effective?
"What's wrong?" The shadow of those thoughts must have darkened his features, for Belle's fingers curled around his hand, squeezing gently.
"Nothing, sweetheart," he replied and Belle smiled at the endearment, although he probably used it half a dozen times before. Raising their joined hands, Rumpelstiltskin placed a light kiss on her fingers. There wasn't anything wrong at the moment, as for the future… the decision would be entirely hers.
"Belle, you know that... that when I said those words before, it meant that the deal was truly off and… you don't have to stay."
He didn't want to admit it or to remind her of him losing his temper but it was the right thing to do. Words spoken in the dim light of the bedroom under the covers could seem appropriate in the heat of the moment, but reality usually hit hard with the merciless rays of sunrise. He didn't want to speak of it, yet the idea of Belle bringing up that subject was even worse.
"You want me to leave." It wasn't a question, but her voice rose at the last words slightly as if it was meant as one. Do you want me to leave? No, not ever, not in the million years.
"I do not want you to feel like you're obliged to do anything because you gave me your word." I do not want you to stay because you pity me. "I don't want you to be... unhappy." He swallowed with difficulty, as if simple words scratched his throat. Why was it so hard to speak?
Rumpelstiltskin felt that something shifted between them last night. Well, there was the physical aspect apparently, but her closeness also robbed him of something. The hard shell surrounding him and cutting him from the rest of the world was gone. He felt emotionally bare, exposed, vulnerable. It was as if he was hanging by a straw that would snap at any moment and he'd fall down. He felt endangered, as if his heart was in her small hand and she could tighten her fingers around it, crushing it, destroying him, turning away from him.
It was a ridiculous thought of course. Belle would never do that. The logical part of him knew that, but the weak human part, the coward, did not listen to it; it insisted he did not deserve her affection.
Belle looked at him, her eyes bright blue, honest and open.
"But I am not… unhappy, Rumpelstiltskin."
His throat tightened at that and he said nothing else until the girl finished her breakfast, concerned about his voice cracking up if he tried to speak. Not unhappy wasn't the best thing they could achieve, but it was most likely the strongest positive emotion a woman had ever experienced with him.
"Now, if you're ready, I'd like to show you something."
Rumpelstiltskin led her out of the dining room, hiding a smile when her hands slipped back into his. He should have guessed she was the hands-holding type, but he did not mind a bit.
"Where are we going?" there was no worry in her voice, only curiosity. The man did not reply. He still didn't feel comfortable about it, but he had to stop keeping her locked away in the castle and guarding her like a dragon would watch a chest of gold. With so many longing looks she gave the scenery behind the windows, he knew just the right thing to show Belle.
They followed the turns of the narrow corridor to the back entrance of the castle. He pushed the door open, letting Belle pass first into the sunlight and follow a curvy trail on the side of the castle. It stopped right before a small structure with tall glass windows.
"A greenhouse?" Belle's voice was full of wonder and excitement. She stepped inside, looking over pots stocked up on a slightly crooked shelf and neat rows made in the soil.
"I thought you could occupy yourself here. Grow roses. Or tomatoes to eventually plant them outside." He couldn't hold back a snigger at imagining Belle in peasant clothes planting tomatoes. "There're many books on plants and gardening in the library. Just let me know if you need something, and I'll bring it." He paused. "Unless you want to fetch it from the market yourself?" he added, voice hesitant and laced with worry.
"I guess not," Belle wrinkled her nose, remembering how the villagers refused to talk to her or give her shelter for the night. "People in the village were not quite… friendly."
Rumpelstiltskin squinted his eyes, expression turning from timid to threatening.
"I'll deal with them," he promised darkly, but she clutched his hand, distracting him from the idea of vengeance.
"Please don't," no matter how upsetting her experience with the local people was, she didn't want them to be hurt. "I think…. I think they were just scared and it'd be wrong to punish someone for being afraid."
The phrase still ran in his ears when Rumpelstiltskin sat at his spinning wheel. He left Belle at the greenhouse, going through the supplies and pots, the dirt immediately getting under her nails. It is wrong to punish someone for being afraid. If other people shared those beliefs, would he become what he was? Weakness and fear set in motion the series of events that resulted in him becoming the Dark One, but could those be avoided if someone stopped and put himself in his shoes?
His wandering thoughts were disturbed by Belle returning to the room, but instead of curling up in the chair in front of the fireplace, she stood behind him, her palms slipping from his shoulders down his forearms.
"What exactly are you going, my dear?" he turned his head and arched one eye-brow at her.
"Breaking the concentration of the Dark One," she joked weakly, straightening up and taking her hands off him. She paused uncertain, but then reached for him again. Belle's fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck and he relaxed at her touch. Her hands, occasionally brushing against his skin, were slightly damp and cool; she must have spent a lot of time trying to get rid off the staining dirt.
"Are you staying up much longer?"
Rumpelstiltskin wasn't sure if it was a masked invitation or just a simple question. Belle took his silence as a confirmation of him being reluctant to retire to the bedroom.
"Alright," she sighed. "Good night then, Rumpelstiltskin." She leaned to place the traditional kiss upon his cheek and left.
When he ascended the stairs to his room, he felt both anxious and hopeful. Rumpelstiltskin didn't need sleep – he slept last night – but he wanted to know what Belle really meant by asking if he would come to bed soon. When the door to his bedroom opened soundlessly, his heart fluttered upon seeing her mop of brown curls spread on the pillow in the light of a single candle on the bedside table. The covers slipped off her shoulders and he discovered that the girl was modestly dressed in one of her night gowns. That meant she had to go to her room to pick one of them; it meant that Belle being in his bed was her choice, her conscious decision. It was a logical conclusion yet no less surprising to him.
She stirred in her sleep, even though he could swear he made no noise, and opened her eyes groggily. Spotting him, without a word, she slid the covers to aside, inviting the man under. Rumpelstiltskin extinguished the candlelight and removed his clothing, magically putting a night shirt over his body.
He climbed into bed, curling behind Belle. His body was all elbows, knees and sharp angles and she wiggled, trying to get comfortable against him. They lay in the dark until their breathing became synchronized.
"Why aren't you asleep?" Belle whispered, and he smiled into her hair.
"Because sleep is for the innocent ones, sweetheart."
She thought it over for several moments.
"But I am no longer innocent, am I?" He could picture her knitting her eyebrows when she was thinking over a particularly unusual idea. "Why do I feel so sleepy then?"
Rumpelstiltskin chuckled at it but offered no reply. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple and drew her warm body closer. He didn't sleep that night but stayed still in bed, holding her in his arms and listening to her quiet breathing.