Chapter 6: Unconventional

The news came as quickly as a howling wind and left the people confused and uncertain in its wake. A large band of ogres, creatures, foul and feared who lived in the caves in the mountains far away, had begun traveling down from their caves and terrorizing the villages at the foothills. It had started with a few sparse attacks but quickly grown into hordes of ogres bringing their strength and numbers upon the helpless villages.

It quickly became clear that the ogres were not easily defeated so the king ordered soldiers to march out and meet the ogres in battle. When word of this reached the villages, Rumplestiltskin trembled in fear. The thought that ogres might make it to their land was a terrifying thought, but Belle had encouraged him and told him not to worry. She claimed the soldiers would take care of the ogres and things would once again be peaceful.

It was the first time Belle had ever been wrong.

Rumors began floating around the village that if the fight with the ogres progressed, there would be a draft. Rumplestiltskin hoped there would be no such thing. The thought of countless men being sent out to fight the vicious creatures was not a pleasant one, and Rumplestiltskin prayed desperately that a draft would not come.

And yet, the thought of going out and protecting his village and the people he loved within was inspiring. He had no visions of grandeur and no plans to become some village hero, but he knew there was honor and glory in protecting his land, his home, and his family. He thought long and hard about what would become of him if he were ever drafted, and he told himself that should that day come, he would hold his head high and be brave. He wanted to be brave to prove to himself that he could be. He wanted to be brave for Belle. He'd felt nothing but pride when she'd thanked him for standing up for her to Wilmar. He wanted to once again make her proud to have chosen him. Belle, however, did not seem to enjoy hearing about the ogres, so he kept all his opinions on fighting to himself.

Belle thought the fighting was foolish and unproductive. There had been too many stories of men dying in gruesome and tragic ways, and to Belle that should have been enough to determine a new course of action. If the current method did not work, choose a new one. Surely it was better than allowing men to die; however, her opinion was unpopular. The rest of the village seemed to take a perverse joy in hearing tales about the Ogre Wars, as they were now calling it. Tales of men sacrificing themselves for their comrades and recounts of men being pulled apart by the large creatures sent a thrill through the people. The excitement of the stories more enjoyable since the war was so far from their doorstep. Belle would often comment gruffly that the people would not take such interest in hearing the latest tales when the subjects were their sons and brothers.

It was with that thought in mind that Rumplestiltskin came to a decision. The war, such as it was, was far away; but with reports coming in frequently about the ogres overpowering the men who faced them, Rumplestiltskin decided that he no longer wanted to wait around for the opportune time to have a serious discussion with Belle's father. Things were moving quickly with the ogres, and he allowed his fear to spur him into action. He reached Belle's home and knocked, rocking back on his heels in nervous anticipation. The door swung open, and Maurice blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting Rumplestiltskin.

"Belle is out on an errand," he stated plainly and Rumplestiltskin nodded.

"Yes, I know," he said with a slight cough, "That's exactly why I'm here."

"Oh gods," Maurice groaned, but his smile hinted that it was more exaggerated and for show. "I know why you're here."

Offering a hesitant smile, Rumplestiltskin answered, "I suppose you do. May I?" he gestured toward the door and Maurice stepped aside to allow Rumplestiltskin room to enter. He did so and then stood nervously, waiting for Maurice, who quickly made himself busy pouring a glass of sweet wine for the two of them. He slid one of the mugs across the table toward Rumplestiltskin. He caught it easily and took a large drink, adding fuel to his inner fire.

"So I suppose you're here because you want to marry my daughter?" Maurice asked, getting right to the point. Rumplestiltskin took another deep drink from his cup and nodded.

"Yes, sir," he answered. "I would like that very much."

Maurice nodded and looked down at his own drink. He sat in that way for several long minutes, and his face grew pale, as if he were ill. "When my wife died," he began suddenly, startling Rumplestiltskin, "I thought my life was ended. Rose had been my world for so long that I had no idea what to do with myself without her. I mourned for my wife for a long time," he paused and fiddled with the small metal ring that rested on his finger, "I still mourn for her. And I would have succumb to my despair had it not been for Belle. She was only a child, but she was so kind and caring; and she looks so much like her mother. She became my world and she helped me to carry on. I don't' know if she knows just how lost I would be without her."

He sat silently for some time, playing idly with the cup in his hands, looking every bit the broken widower he was. Rumplestiltskin watched him in silence, allowing the other man's despair to settle over him, making his skin rise with gooseflesh. Maurice's sorrow was fresh even after so long, and the wound was deep. Finally, Maurice looked up and gave Rumplestiltskin a sad smile. "Do you know why I told you that?" he asked.

Rumplestiltskin did not, and he admitted it.

"I want you to understand how important my daughter is to me. I need to know that if I let her go, she'll be taken care of. She'll be loved. She will be your world as my Rose was to me."

Rumplestiltskin wanted to speak, but the lump in his throat prevented him from doing so. He loved Belle tremendously, as did her father. Rumplestiltskin never had a father's love and to see this man speak of his daughter in such a warm and devoted way only fueled his desire to love and cherish her more. He would be a worthy husband. He would ensure that her father never had to worry about whether or not his dear Belle was loved. She would be so loved.

Fighting to keep his emotions in check, Rumplestiltskin set his gaze firmly on the other man. "I can't promise you that I'll be able to give her much," he began, "But she will have all the love and respect I can possibly give her. If she will have me, I will give her all I have."

Maurice seemed to take a moment to consider Rumplestiltskin's statement. Then he stretched his hand out across the table, offering it to Rumplestiltskin. "I've no doubt she'll say yes. You make her happy and it's clear that you love one another. You have my blessing.

Rumplestiltskin stared at the proffered hand with his eyes wide and mouth agape. Then he seemed to realize what had occurred and with an uncharacteristic shout he leapt toward Maurice and grasped his hand with a firm grip.

"Thank you so much," he gasped. His excitement and relief welled up inside him, ready to burst.

Maurice chuckled at his future son-in-law's excitement. "Would you like to discuss her dowry now, or wait until she accepts?"

"I-I suppose now," Rumplestiltskin spoke hesitantly.

Maurice nodded, clearly transforming from doting father to stern businessman. He began to list off the items that would join Belle in her marriage to Rumplestiltskin: clothing, linen, several books, and a large amount of money. Rumplestiltskin's mouth sagged at the sum, but he forced himself to remain quiet. He could think of numerous investments he could make with that kind of money, but that would not be up to him. This money was Belle's. He would not do anything without her permission. He only hoped that she would be willing to assist him in his desire to invest in some sheep.

After talking for a while longer, Rumplestiltskin departed, not wanting Belle to see him at her home at such an odd hour of the day. He did not want her to suspect anything, so he quickly returned home and began thinking of the perfect way to ask for her hand. Rumplestiltskin was fortunate in his circumstances; most girls were not allowed to pick their husbands, and when families were desperate enough, the boys were offered up as well. Rumplestiltskin had never had anyone desire to be his, nor had the spinsters who raised him seen the need to pawn him off for money.

He sat at his spinning wheel, spinning wool as he thought. He always did his best thinking at the wheel, and now was no exception. He had nothing he could offer her as a gift, and he glanced around his small shack in the hopes that a sufficient gift would appear merely by thinking of it. It did not and he sighed, shaking his head at his foolishness. Of course he could not conjure something out of thin air. That wasn't possible for someone like him.

He thought of collecting more flowers, but he knew that would never do. She had loved the flowers he'd given her the night of the festival, but they had not even been courting then; how could he ask for her hand and merely give her flowers.

He knew It was not necessary to give a gift, because most people had little enough of their own as it was. But he was determined to make an impression when he asked her, and he would be damned if he bent his knee with nothing to lift up to her.

He continued to spin, wondering what he could possibly offer his Belle. His thoughts began to race and as they sped, so did the wheel. He thought and spun until the last of the wool was complete and he absently began to wind the material up in preparation for his morning trip to the market.

How he envied Ebert; the hateful man was the only provider of fabrics and cloth in the village and although he had been reasonable with Rumplestiltskin of late, his prices were hardly fair. Rumplestiltskin could not deny the man had excellent quality fabric and materials that he would love to get his hands on, but even if he could afford to purchase the extra materials, he would have no idea what to make-

And then he had it. In his mind he could see the perfect gift for Belle. She was not a vain girl, nor did she care about the state of her clothing. She had never learned to sew either, and was forced to take her mending elsewhere. But that was it. He had seen her clothing, the two dresses she had to wear: one a simple brown, the other a pale green. Other than the few items in her trousseau that came with her dowry, she had little else.

And like that, he decided. He would make her a dress.

~0~

Rumplestiltskin made his way to Ebert's stand early the next morning. He wanted to beat the crowds, which were beginning to take form, and rush back home so he could begin working on his gift for Belle.

He could see the dress in his mind. It would be simple and comfortable; something she could work in but still look lovely. He debated about what color to dye the material and after he went through his stores, he decided on a lovely shade of blue to match her eyes.

He arrived at the stand where Ebert had just finished setting up his goods. Rumplestiltskin placed his basket on the small counter and pushed it toward the man.

"I'd like to trade today," Rumplestiltskin said gently, afraid the man's mood would be poor.

"Just what I want," he grumbled. "Yer ugly mutt showin' up first thing. What you want to trade fer?"

Rumplestiltskin knew exactly what items Ebert had to sell, and he pointed to a bundle of rough woven linen. "I'd like that," he said. "However much you'll give me."

Rolling his eyes, Ebert checked the wool then grabbed the bundle of linen and unwound it. Taking a pair of scissors, he snipped off a length of it before shoving it toward Rumplestiltskin. "That good enough for you?" He asked hatefully.

Rumplestiltskin had an eye for material and he could easily tell that he'd been given roughly three yards of the material - more than enough to make a dress for Belle. He thanked Ebert, sighing to himself when the man tossed out another insult and then another for good measure. Rumple grabbed his basket and took off. He told himself that one day he'd stand up to the hateful man and show him that he wasn't someone to push around. He could envision it in his mind, but that was where his bravery would remain. As much as he wanted to tell the man what he thought of him, Rumple relied on Ebert to buy his wool, and to insult a man much larger and meaner than him would surely cause him to lose his sole buyer.

He returned to his shack and began preparations for dying the fabric. He worked long and hard through the day. The process was lengthy, but finally the material was dyed and hanging out to dry. He worried that Belle might see it on the line, but he had no other options and would think up something to tell her to ward off any suspicion. After he cleaned up his mess, most of the day had passed and he was due to visit his sweetheart for another reading lesson.

~000~

He loved the stories they read together. She seemed to know his taste in books, though he hadn't realized he had one; and they devoured books together, taking turns reading and discussing what happened within the pages. Belle craved books and learning and he found that it was quite the enjoyable addiction. It was a treat to escape to a different world, with brave knights and beautiful princesses and monsters that were not always so. The world around them was quickly spiraling into a chaotic mess of war stories and silently growing fear that the ogres would advance, but with Belle by his side and a book in their hands, there were no worries.

He walked to Belle's home again, his steps slow and languid. He was in no rush, instead enjoying the cool evening breeze and uncommon silence that filled the air. No doubt many of the people were gathered at the pub trying to find out the latest news about the ogres. He knocked on the door, eager to greet his beloved and when she opened the door, she smiled brightly at him. He kissed her hand then entered the house to see Maurice sitting at his desk writing a letter and they greeted each other with scheming grins. He knew he was not much of a prospect, but he was glad that Belle's father had given him permission to ask for her hand. Knowing that Maurice held him in his favor made him feel worthy of Belle's love. He also had to admit that it felt nice to share a secret with someone, as if they were friends. He had not had many friends when he'd been growing up and any friendships he'd managed to acquire had long since abandoned him for fellows who were not under the lasting shadow of their malevolent fathers.

"Come on," Belle said, tugging on his arm. "It's a lovely evening. Why don't we read outside?"

He nodded, embarrassed at how easily it was for her to make him speechless, even after courting for several weeks. He followed her obediently out the small back door and into the field that was behind the house. It was small and modest, but good land that would no doubt one day be passed onto Belle. Rumplestiltskin knew, based on his conversation with Maurice that the man did not begrudge his lack of sons, and he would gladly give over everything to his daughter. It made him pleased that Belle had such a father and not a man like Hagan who cursed his daughters and longed for sons.

Belle moved to the middle of the field and sat down. She glanced up at him, reached up with one arm, and pulled on his hand to have him sit next to her. He did so, his leg brushing against hers and the feeling sent a whirlwind of thoughts through his mind. He could see Belle with him in his home, snuggled up by the fire reading. He could see them sitting in the field near the path he took to Hagan's, with her lounging in the space between his legs. He could see them walking hand in hand through the town square, his arm wrapped around her. He could imagine pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her cheek and no one would be able to say anything about propriety because she was his wife and he could do as he pleased.

It was enough to make him want to ask for her hand right then. He had half a mind to just do it and let the dress be a wedding gift instead. But he'd planned this a certain way, and he would not stray from his path. He refrained and gently took the book from her hands and opened it up to the place where they'd left off. He began to read, his face growing hot as she leaned over closer to him. She wrapped one hand around his arm and followed him intently, making sure he pronounced every word correctly. It was a wonder he remembered how to read, so distracted was he. Having Belle so close made his blood rush and his thoughts wander to even more distracting and ungentlemanly thoughts, but he forced himself to focus, and tried to ignore the glorious feeling of her fingers gently rubbing his forearm. She was driving him mad, and surely she knew it. He pressed on, determined not to lose sight of himself and do something untoward. He read for an hour, only stopping because his throat began to hurt and Belle gently reclaimed the book from him and called the session over.

The strode back into the house arm in arm, and after lingering for a few minutes longer, Rumplestiltskin bid her and her father good night, then snuck a quick kiss from Belle. He returned home, where he sat up the rest of the night preparing the material to be cut and sewn the next day. He was growing impatient, eager to be with Belle - if she would have him - and the sooner he could finish his gift for her, the sooner he could present it to her and ask for her hand. He worked late into the night, only stopping when he could no longer hold his eyes open. He collapsed into the bed and fell asleep instantly.

He awoke after the sun had already risen that morning. He groaned and cursed, leaping from the bed to begin working on the dress. He measured and cut and sewed until the dress began to take shape. He was pleased with how it was turning out, and he could not wait to see Belle in the dress he'd made specifically for her. He did not have much to offer her, but he was skilled at spinning and sewing - things that were often thought of as women's work. But he took pride in his skill, and he hoped that Belle would appreciate his efforts, even if making a dress for one's intended was a bit out of the ordinary. Neither of them had been very conventional, and it seemed only appropriate that his proposal be unconventional as well.

He worked for several more hours, not bothering to stop for food. His desire to finish his gift fueled him and he did not want to stop for anything if he did not have to. Finally, as the sun began to sink in the west, he draped the dress across his bed, admiring his work. One side still needed to be sewn, but he would do that after he presented it to Belle. He had no way of knowing her measurements and he could not afford much more cloth should he mess up. No, he would offer it to her, and if she accepted it, he would have her try it on so that he could properly finish it. It was the safest course of action and he clapped his hands together in excitement.

He had just made the decision to wait until the next day, which would give him plenty of time to think of what he would possibly say, when there was a gentle knock on his door. Knowing it could be no one else, he quickly grabbed the dress and hid it in the basket next to his spinning wheel, then rushed to the door. Belle stood on the other side, looking as lovely as always and Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard as he looked upon her. What had he done to deserve her?

"Good evening," she said, giggling when he continued to stare at her. Her smile twitched in amusement when he failed to answer, so she repeated her greeting, which caused Rumplestiltskin to shake himself out of his stupor and respond in kind. He stepped aside to allow her entry, and she brushed past him, making herself comfortable on one of his stools. Turning to look up at him, she explained. "Someone had urgent business with my father. I didn't feel like being alone. I hope you don't mind."

He stumbled forward and knelt awkwardly at her feet, reaching up to take one of her hands in his. "Of course I don't mind!" He exclaimed. "Every moment you spend with me is a moment I cherish."

She blushed, the rose color highlighting her features and making her look lovelier than ever. Rumplestiltskin rose up on his knees and brushed his knuckles over cheeks, loving the way she shivered under his touch. It was not proper for them to be alone like this. They were not wed, and if anyone saw Belle leaving his home after nightfall, there would be a flurry of distasteful rumors swirling about by sunrise. He knew he should escort her home, or walk with her outside to prevent anyone from thinking anything too suspicious. Yet she leaned into his touch, and reached out with her own hand, still slightly discolored and touched Rumple's face. He was still bruised as well though he could hardly feel it anymore.

Encouraged, he leaned forward, and his eyes met hers. She moved toward him, and he smiled before she brushed her lips against his. His eyes remained open, intent on watching her every expression as best he could, and he pressed his lips to hers more firmly, loving their softness. They kissed slowly, neither of them in a rush; and after some time he became so caught up in his exploration of her mouth that his eyes slipped closed and he lost himself in the feel of it all. It was still new to him, and the joy of having her here with him – to say nothing of the thrill he felt knowing that what they were doing was forbidden. Her reputation was still at stake, especially now. It was clear that thoughts of what others would think was far from her mind. It had already been made clear by Wilmar that some people thought her ruined already, and though it angered him to know that anyone dared think of his pure and precious Belle in such a way, he could not bring himself to fret anymore over whether or not they were seen. He was too busy enjoying this moment with Belle, and if his sweetheart wanted a kiss, he was not going to let his fear of what others might say stop him from enjoying the favors she offered freely.

He knew what others thought and said about him, and none of it was kind. Why should he sacrifice the one joy he had worrying over what they might say next? As long as Belle continued to kiss him, the rest of the village could be damned.

Their lips were separated by only a breath, both of them breathing heavily. Belle giggled breathlessly and placed another warm and sweet kiss against his lips before sitting back in the chair. She moved his hands so they were wrapped in hers and placed them primly on her lap.

"I should probably go home," she said after a long while. "Papa doesn't know I'm gone. I don't want to worry."

Rumplestiltskin nodded, hating that she was right. He did not want her to leave and judging by the look in her eyes, her reluctance to leave was as heavy as his reluctance to see her go. "I wish I didn't have to," she whispered after some time, causing Rumplestiltskin to meet her gaze sharply. "I hate having to watch you go at the end of the day," she said. "I hate leaving. I know we aren't far away from each other, but I don't like saying goodbye."

Just as when her actions had shocked him into telling her he loved her, her words now left him unable to do anything but speak out the one thing that had been on his mind the entire time she'd been in his arms.

"Marry me, then."

She blinked, clearly surprised, but then her eyes grew warm and a hesitant smile began to form. "What?"

He sat frozen, his eyes wide as he realized he'd just proposed in the worst way possible. He stood reluctantly, let go of her hands, and moved to the basket at his spinning wheel. Digging through it, he pulled out the fabric and unfolded it, turning around to hold the mostly-finished blue dress in front of him. He stepped forward and held the dress out, offering it to her sheepishly.

"I was going to wait until tomorrow," he said with a heavy sigh, "But it seems I can't ever do anything right when it comes to you." He toyed with the fabric in his hands, unsure of how to proceed. "I always feel like such a fool, but you never seem to mind." He gave the dress a small shake. "This is my gift to you. I have nothing else to offer you, and the only thing I'm good at is spinning and sewing. I wanted to make something to give to you when I asked for your hand, and the only thing I could think of was a dress."

She stood slowly and approached him, her expression unreadable. He swallowed thickly, waiting for her to laugh or reject him. Instead, she reached out with a tender hand and stroked the front of the dress, allowing the material to slide through her fingers. She looked up at him and it was only then that he realized she had tears in her eyes.

"You made this for me?"

"Aye," he answered softly. "I did."

"It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice full of awe.

"I have to finish it," he explained quickly, "I want to make sure it will fit you."

She took the dress from his hands and draped it gently over the spinning wheel. "You didn't have to do this. But it's wonderful, Rumple. I can't believe you went to all this trouble for me."

He smiled lovingly at her. "I would do anything for you, Belle. I love you."

She sighed happily, looking at him with love and affection. "Will you ask me again?"

It hadn't been what he'd planned, but with Belle, nothing had gone the way he'd expected. Unable to contain his excitement, he gripped one of her hands in his and quickly knelt down before her. Looking up into her eyes, he declared, "Belle, I love you more than I can possibly say. Will you do me the greatest honor of becoming my wife?"

She laughed joyfully and sank down to her knees to kiss him thoroughly. When she parted her lips from his, she answered with an enthusiastic, "Yes!"

Author's Notes:

Aww yay!

Thank you again for all the kind reviews! I've gained several new followers and favorites and I'm so excited to know so many of you are interested in my story. It really does mean a lot to me. I know I say that every week, but it really is true.

Next chapter will be up November 29. For my readers who celebrate it, Happy Thanksgiving! I know I'm looking forward to having some time off and being with my family.

Please see chapters 1 and/or 2 for the disclaimer.