It feels like a small victory. Rumpelstiltskin doesn't visit her as often as she'd like, but he does come at least once a week. The man remains strangely reserved though. They usually just talk and he asks more questions than he answers. If Isabelle can get him to relax and loosen up a bit, she may steal a kiss or two before he leaves. When she works up the nerve and sees that his guard is lowered, the girl tries taking small liberties like leaning against him a little or even sliding her fingers through his hair, but Rumpelstiltskin always pulls away before she can do much.
Isabelle would think she's forcing herself on him if not the feverish hunger of his reciprocal kisses. Perhaps, she thinks, she is too ordinary to truly interest him. Or maybe the man is not used to letting people close or, in fact, to having anyone in his life. Both are equally possible but she hopes she can change things if she just allows him enough time and personal space.
But if she can be patient with scarce meetings (at least he does come, and looking forward to this is a sweet feeling), keeping herself away from touching him is beyond her control. Frankly, Isabelle has never paid much mind to how important the physical contact was until she saw how much he enjoys it. It affects him strongly but he still doesn't allow it to last too long as if he were punishing himself or protecting himself from something. From her. From getting attached. She believes that is why Rumpelstiltskin is wearing his cloak again, although there is absolutely no need for the thing. The evening air hangs humid and sticky; Isabelle can hear the distant peals of thunder and hopes it is not going to rain; she doesn't want their appointment to be cut short.
Rumpelstiltskin arrives with the usual plume of smoke and she smiles fondly at him even though he takes the furthest end of the bench after greeting her. But it's familiar, it's almost comforting and she is not discouraged by his pretence of being indifferent or unfeeling. It's been a lengthy day and unfairly long since she saw him last (yes, five days can seem like forever) and the girl carefully edges closer to him. Isabelle pretends she doesn't notice him doing the same (he nearly falls off the bench, perched on its end with an impressive sense of balance) and tries to distract him by asking how the sorcerer's day was. He never gives her a straight answer but at least by the time he finishes making a quip and giving her a half-truth she has scooted over and places hear head on his left shoulder. She hopes he will rest his arm around her but the man ignores her insolence.
"You are too bony," she complains and it is true; Isabelle can feel his sharp shoulder dig into her cheek uncomfortably even through the layers of his clothing.
"Well, uh… you know, I've been short on consuming the newborns this month," he jests, waving his hand through the air.
"Mhmm," she agrees and smiles despite her intention. She imagines he probably forgets to eat more often than not; mundane things like dining could easily escape his attention. He does have a strange sense of humour and it took her some time to appreciate that kind of wit. Isabelle sighs as his high collar prevents her from being as close as she'd like and slides her arms around him, feeling the rough textured dragon-hide under her fingers.
"Would you at least take your coat off? Surely, it's too warm for it," she prompts tentatively but she's interrupted by a theatrical gasp as Rumpelstiltskin's hand flies to his chest in an over-exaggerated portrayal of wounded dignity.
"So that you could take advantage of my innocence when I undress? I think not!" his voice comes out pitched and shocked and it would be funny if it didn't hit so close to the truth. Well, not that she intended to take advantage of him in the gardens but the girl simply wishes he would let her in; he's too collected, too distant in the armour of his leathers and his sleek words.
She just closes her eyes and concentrates on the warmth that radiates from him, breathing in deeply the scents of the heavy earth, mixed with the perfume of flowers and grass, and Rumpelstiltskin's skin. She doesn't want to think and let her doubts take over; she needs to cherish the moment, here and now and not let the worries of tomorrow interfere.
"Isabelle, what's wrong?" his voice is quiet and sombre; he reads her moods well and her being drumpy did not pass unnoticed. The man doesn't call her Belle though. She insisted but he sticks to the full name and somehow it unsettles her. Like he's denying their closeness, trying to be formal and detached. "Did I upset you?"
The girl shakes her head and although he can see her just with the corner of his eye, he can feel the movement against his body.
"Then what is it on your mind? Tell me." The words are soft but at the same time they are more of a gentle command than a polite request. She doesn't want to talk about it but she knows Rumpelstiltskin won't let go of the subject easily.
"It's my father," Isabelle explains and grows quiet again. The man doesn't speak, waiting for her to continue. "He wants… We've had a heated talk today. Papa has arranged another marriage for me."
"Oh." She can see Rumpelstiltskin's hand curl into a fist against his hip but his voice remains calm. "And you…"
"And I told him that I wouldn't. Not that it mattered much," she cannot help the bitterness from seeping into her words and the sorcerer relaxes a bit, realizing that he's just as much appalled by the prospect.
"Who is this new suitor?"
"I don't know. Some wealthy lord or princeling, for all I care," she says angrily, shifting away so that she can look him in the eye. "I do not want to marry, not him!"
Rumpelstiltskin appears to be amused by the last part for the corner of his mouth curls upward but he doesn't tease her about what she has almost confessed. His eyes become darker as he bends closer to her face, dropping to a confiding whisper.
"Do you want me to turn the fellow into a snail?"
"No," Isabelle snickers at the way he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. She knows that he could actually do it but the thought holds no fear.
"A rat then?" Rumpelstiltskin is pleased that he made her laugh and his fingers dance in the air, amusing her further. The girl shakes her head again, her wide smile lightening up her spirits as she forgets for a second that they are talking about serious things; it's her future that is at stake. "A toad, perhaps?" he adds a bit too hopefully. "No one likes toads." But Isabelle is still unyielding.
"I do not think it's wise," she suggests and Rumpelstiltskin gives her a mock pout as if she robbed him of some fun. "If you keep it up, the kingdom will run out of eligible bachelors." The man mutters something suspiciously similar to it would serve the damn fools right.
"What was that?" she asks.
"I said, 'what do you have in mind?'"
Isabelle fidgets.
"I might have come up with a way to get out of it. But I need help."
"Care to enlighten me, dearie?" Rumpelstiltskin asks airily but she can feel that he is quite concerned. "Or your clever little plan doesn't involve me?"
Isabelle hopes she's not blushing again because her plan certainly holds a major part for the man but she has no idea how to spill it to him. She shocked herself with the prospect and she knows he might not like it. But the more she thought of it, the more convinced she became.
"I've weighed everything and I decided I want my life to change. This," she gestures around, "does not feel right. Sometimes I feel like I do not belong here." Isabelle pauses as if she expects him to laugh at this but he nods, his large eyes attentive and sympathetic and she goes on. "I… I want a change. To be able to decide for myself. I know it may look like I'm trying to avoid responsibilities but I'm not. So many people could rule better than me, people with experience, people who deserve it. That is, if I even get to rule and not be a decoration at my husband's side whose only concern is to produce heirs and aim to please his whims." She's speaking faster now, her voice laced with emotion and she's out of breath, flushed and passionate, glancing at Rumpelstiltskin with a challenge but he doesn't object nor argue with her.
"You want me to use magic to convince your father that…?" He frowns, uncertain of what the girl's leading to.
"You think I haven't tried it? Reasoning, pleading, begging him?" Her frustration is almost palpable and Rumpelstiltskin feels dull pain in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. Perhaps, her returning home was not a mercy on Regina's part. She's clearly unhappy and the relationship with her parent deteriorates quickly even without the sorcerer's interference. He wonders why he hasn't seen it before; was he obsessing over his own emotions not to notice anything beyond that? He should have been there for her, to support her, to protect her, to guide her. Instead, he gave up, nurturing his own pain and it feels like betrayal. Rumpelstiltskin doesn't know what to do; he desperately wants to fix things but he's always been the man of wrong choices.
"So I've come up with the only solution I see possible," her voice trembles lightly and she takes a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. "My father will not stop playing match-maker unless…" Isabelle licks her lips nervously. "Unless no one would want to marry me, even despite the promise of riches and expansion of their lands."
"But dearie," the man objects with a nervous giggle, "there always will be someone willing. You're young and beautiful and…"
"What if I am no longer innocent?" she interrupts and he gapes at her.
"What are you saying?"
"That if I were to lose my maidenhood and it was known, nobody would desire me and I would be left alone."
"B-but," Rumpelstiltskin stutters and he cannot think of a single thing to say. He cannot tell her she is not as innocent as she thinks but that's the last thing that worries him. He hasn't realized how much of a burden her life here was. "You do not mean it. Can you even imagine what consequences there would be if anyone found out? You'd be lucky if you were locked up for the rest of your days! You would be shunned from everywhere, despised and hated. Your life would turn into hell if you ever let anyone believe you were dishonoured like that."
"Not having everyone believe," she presses stubbornly and places her hand on his thigh. The gesture is chaste instead of an attempt at seduction but it almost burns him when Rumpelstiltskin comprehends his role in this. "But actually do it. I need someone I can trust and…"
He jumps up, shaking her hand off him and steps several steps back.
"Are you out of your mind?" he shouts because it's unthinkable, it is the most bizarre request imaginable and it hurts. It hurts knowing she wants to use him in that way, to have her treat her body so… cynically. The wind gathers and he shivers both with cold and indignation.
"It makes perfect sense! If you just…"
"No!" he throws his arms in front of himself when the girl stands up and approaches.
"It will work and I know my father will not harm me," her fingers circle his wrists as she lowers his arms.
"I will not do it," it comes out as a snarl through his gritted teeth but she looks up at him, unafraid and he can feel the anger diminish and his voice drops to a whisper "I can't. I shall not. And I will not allow you to destroy your life like this. You do not understand what you are asking for." He has ruined her life before, but this is her second chance (whether she knows it or not) and she doesn't need to imbue herself by associating with the Dark One, not this time. They kept it light, few talks and few kisses, but what she asks of him now means taking things much too far.
"I do," the girl presses, raising her chin up defiantly. "Do you not desire me?"
He groans because it's totally beyond his point.
"It's irrelevant. You do not mean…"
"Yes, I am certain. I am tired of having people decide for me. This is my life and my choice and this is final."
"Isabelle, please…" the first drops on rain land on the ground and he feels completely miserable.
"Why do you never call me by my name?" she narrows her eyes, gripping onto this detail and he's lost for a moment. "It's Belle, why do you never use it?" He remains quiet and she grows impatient.
"Say it," she demands. "Say my name."
Heavy drops land on her face and Rumpelstiltskin closes his eyes. He knows it's just a name but it stirs too much pain. It's easier to think of her as Isabelle, to separate them as different persons in his head. She wants him but it's not the same, she offers herself for an entirely different reason and he dreads his Belle is gone forever. Letting himself get close to her was a mistake.
"Please," he repeats, not sure what he is begging for. It's raining heavily and he doesn't know if the moisture on his face has to do with the water pouring from the skies or his weeping soul.
"Oh gods, there is someone else there? Someone else named Belle?" her eyes go wide and she steps away, her mind buzzing with speculations. "That's why you behave that way, because I remind you of her but we're not the same. How could I be so stupid?"
Rumpelstiltskin presses his hands to his face; he's confused and the whole evening has taken an unexpected turn, it's too messed up. His shoulders move with soundless laughter and when he puts his hands away he catches Isabelle – or Belle, he doesn't know – on the verge of running. The wet sleeves of her dress stick to her skin and she is probably cold. If only he could take her in his arms and keep her warm; if only she could remember him.
"Wait," he calls after her and she freezes in place. "I… It's complicated." Rumpelstiltskin carefully steps up not to spook her. He's certain she noticed him avoiding using any names but she waits for him to finish. "I may tell you the story one day, but for now… I swear there is no one in my life." Not anymore, he thinks, and not in a way you suspect.
The girls gives him a jerky nod and his hand cup her chin, making her raise her head.
"I want you to promise me something," he says and watches her face intently. "Tell me you will not do anything silly. Promise that if you ever decide to give your body to anyone, it will be because he's worthy of it and not due to necessity. Let me take care of everything else."
Her bottom lip trembles and he thinks she is going to cry. She doesn't.
"I want to hear you say it. I need your word that a choice like that will not be rushed. For your own sake."
"I'm sorry," she says and her shoulders droop in surrender. "I shouldn't have… but I don't know what else to do! I want to be in control of things but in truth I'm lost. You're right. I promise. I won't bring this up again."
Rumpelstiltskin exhales as relief washes over him.
"Hold me?" she asks meekly and he finds no power to deny her.
"Come, you're cold."
He embraces her and transports them both to her chambers, drying them up and carefully lowering the girl onto the bed. She grips the lapels of his coat when he tries to pull away.
"Stay? I won't… I don't want to be alone," she pleads.
The bed is too narrow for both of them and he makes sure the girl is covered tightly before lowering himself on it. Rumpelstiltskin slides an arm under her neck and she clings to him, still afraid he'll leave. She's so fragile, so open and trusting in the arms of a monster.
"It will be alright," he says soothingly. "I will figure out what to do with your father. Don't worry about anything, just go to sleep."
He lets his right hand stroke her soft hair and her body relaxes as she eventually slips into the land of dreams.
And if he stays longer than necessary after her breathing becomes even and peaceful, he will never tell.