Chapter 7: What Trials (Come Our Way)

The talk of the Ogres continued to increase, but Rumplestiltskin paid it no mind. Instead, he chose to focus all his attention on his upcoming marriage. The news had not been met with much surprise nor much interest; there were far more exciting things to discuss than the whirlwind affair of the village outcast and the village bookworm. The few who did show any interest in the engagement were those who planned to take advantage of the feast that would be provided after the wedding ceremony. It was custom in the village to invite everyone to celebrate a wedding, and food was provided for all. It was never anything grand, but seeing as Maurice was one of the wealthier men of the village, it was presumptuously expected that he would provide a grand feast in honor of his only daughter.

Despite her excitement to become engaged, Belle had not made much of a fuss over her wedding. She had discussed some things with Rumple, and had expressed a desire to have her wedding at the end of the season, just before the snows would settle in. It was uncommon for couples to wed so late in the year because most preferred the warm summer season, but Belle had never been one to follow the ways of others and Rumple was simply willing to go wherever Belle led. He cared not if their wedding took place in a palace or in a field. He did not care if he spent the day sweating in the heat or shivering in the cold. All that mattered was at the end of the day, Belle became his wife.

It disheartened Rumple, however, to find that other than himself and her father, Belle had no one with whom she could share her excitement over her wedding. He had few friends, none of them particularly close to her. She was not completely alone though; the children of the village loved her, in part for her tendency to gather them together in the summer months and read stories to them. She would tell fantastic tales, all beloved stories from her books, and the children would beg for more and pout when her voice began to crack and she had to stop. But children did not understand the importance of weddings and marriage, and as dear as the children were to Belle, it became painfully obvious that Belle had no one on whom she could rely to prepare her and encourage her on the days leading up to her wedding.

Despite that lack of female companionship, Belle seemed to radiate happiness. There was a glow about her and a lightness in her step that had not been there before. Her smiles seemed wider when she greeted him, and her embraces seemed warmer. Every time she mentioned something about the wedding, she exuded a happiness that was befitting of a bride. She told him what she was planning and asked his opinion on almost everything and he would simply reply that he liked whatever she did and if she was happy, he was happy.

She admitted one day that despite her excitement, she was not terribly invested in the wedding itself. Rumple frowned at her words and she had been quick to correct herself. "I mean that I'm more excited to be married to you," she explained quickly. "I've dreamed of my wedding day, of course, but I find that the lifetime that follows to be the thing I am most excited about."

That had appeased Rumple, calming his sudden fear that she was losing interest. He would always have that fear, but her constant assurances to the contrary eased his mind and his heart. He feared, in the secret recesses of his mind that he dare not voice to her, that she would leave him one day. He fought away that fear as best he could, but it still lingered, catching him in his most unsuspecting and vulnerable moments. But Belle would come to him then, as if summoned by a secret magic that linked their hearts together and invite him out for a walk or something just as innocent and his fears would once again vanish.

She even joked on a few occasions about eloping. The wedding was still some time away, and she was not afraid to admit to Rumplestiltskin that she was growing impatient. He admitted to the same, and it was those moments he was certain she would grab his hand, drag him to the temple where the clerics resided and demand to be married on the spot. He always felt a pang of sorrow that she did not, but he was also grateful; he had no desire to face Maurice after such a scandalous act. The man would surely kill him.

He had to admit the idea held a certain appeal; he was ready for the engagement to end. Now that he had the assurance of her love and devotion, he wanted nothing more than to make it official so that he could begin his life with her. Time was a precious thing with the ogres growing ever closer to them, and he wanted to enjoy his time with his wife before they were attacked or he was drafted. The wedding could not come soon enough in his opinion. Like Belle, he did not care for the ceremony and was eager to get the formalities over with. He had no one whom he wished to invite; the spinsters who cared for him long dead, and so the people who attended the wedding would be there for Belle. Even then, they would mostly be there because Maurice was respected in the village and there was the promise of good food. Rumple had no desire to share his happy day with those who did not care for him, but he reminded himself that his wedding day was not about him, but about Belle, and if she did not care for a horde of people intruding on their special day, then he would endure it for her Always for her.

But more than anything, he longed for the wedding night. His cheeks burned, as did elsewhere, when the thought crossed his mind, but he never allowed his mind to wander to that night unless he was alone. He wondered if Belle, as well-read as she was, knew what would occur between them. Her mother had died when she was young, and she'd had no female companion to speak to about such things. He toyed with the idea of broaching the subject with her. The last thing he wanted to do was to startle or alarm her when he began to undress in front of her, with the intent of doing the same to her, but his shyness kept him from mentioning it. It was not proper, and he did not want to presume anything about his bride-to-be. If she were curious, she would ask. It was in her nature, and the longer she went without saying a word, he was sure that she was aware of what would transpire between them. And how he longed for it! To be so close with her; to hold her in his arms each night and awake to the same great pleasure. He felt a thrill every time they kissed, and he could not wait until they could finally express their love for each other without having to hide or sneak quick kisses. He was ready to be a husband; he was ready to properly love his Belle.

Those thoughts sat heavily in the back of his mind as he and Belle walked through the village square one afternoon, Belle discussing more details about their wedding. He listened intently, ever the doting fiancé, and as she spoke. He could feel his excitement growing, an extension of Belle's own clear joy, and it was not until he felt his back pressed up against a wall that he realized they were no longer in the middle of the market, but instead in a dark and secluded alley way. He glanced at Belle with a raised eyebrow, wondering what had caused her to bring the here. Her lips her curved downward, as if she were displeased with him.

"You were a thousand miles away," she said softly, reaching out to touch his cheek. "I hope I'm not boring you."

He leaned down and kissed her in response, careless of the fact they were in public. "Just thinking of how beautiful you're going to look on our wedding day," he whispered, bringing up a hand to brush his fingers against her cheek. Her smile grew and she gazed at him with love. It was moments like this he wished they were already wed. He wanted nothing more than to whisk her to his home and show her just how much he loved her. Pressing one last kiss to her lips, he pushed himself off the wall and began to lead her back out into the crowd. "We should be careful," he warned. "Someone might see."

She shrugged her shoulders lazily and scoffed. "It's no one's concern," she said. "If I want to kiss my husband-to-be, then I think it should be my right to do so."

"And I agree with that whole-heartedly," Rumplestiltskin teased, smiling down at her, "But even still. You're father instructed us to be careful. And the last thing I want to do is get you in trouble. I'd like to live long enough to actually marry you," he said with a wink.

"You're probably right," Belle sighed as she slid her arm through his, walking back toward the square. "While I may preach about my distaste of the hypocrisy of how people treat others in this village at times, I suppose father is right and that I should remember that my opinion is not the common one. And people do enjoy a good gossip. I don't want to give them any fuel to add to their fire."

"Beautifully said," Rumple agreed, patting her hand gently with his. "Though when we are wed we may do as we please, everyone else be damned."

Belle gasped playfully, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Such language!" She exclaimed, "What would my father say if he heard you speak that way in front of a lady?"

Rumplestiltskin laughed and moved closer to her. "I imagine he'd think I learned it from you," he teased. "You are the one working to expand my vocabulary."

Belle smacked his arm, causing Rumplestiltskin to laugh. It was a simple moment between them, but it brought him overabundant joy.

~000~

Belle sat by the fire reading. Rumplestiltskin had escorted her home a few hours ago, apologizing profusely for having to leave her in order to attend to his chores. She had let him go with grace, but now as she sat alone in her father's house, she wished she were already married so she could read by the fire while he worked, his presence a comfort and pleasure she desired with ever increasing frequency. She tried to gather her thoughts and focus on the book in her hands, but just as she was getting into the story, her father burst in, looking displeased.

He tossed his cloak and a few books carelessly onto the table and stalked over to his daughter, who stood to greet him, her face scrunched in concern. "Is something the matter, Papa?" She asked.

The harsh look that was his response took Belle's breath, and she stepped back in surprise. Her father rarely showed anger, and it was even less frequent that it was directed at her.

"What did I tell you about being careful?" He demanded, "What did I tell you about how people would talk?"

Belle stared nervously at her father. "I don't understand. What's happened?"

Maurice sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his face in exasperation. "Belle," he said with a sigh, "You can't carry on as if you are untouchable. People are talking about you. About your relationship. And nothing good is being said."

"What is being said?" Belle asked timidly.

"Well, as proud as I am of you for this, there is talk going around from when you punched Wilmar," Maurice began, "You're being called all manner of names. Rumplestiltskin too, for needing a woman to stand up for him." Maurice held his hands up quickly and added, "Not my opinion, of course."

Belle frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "And is no one talking about Wilmar? About how he was bested by a girl? About how he insulted me and called me a whore when he had no business doing so? Where is my justice? Why is it that Wilmar is the victim here when Rumple and I were not the ones who started the fight to begin with?"

Maurice stepped forward and rested his hands on Belle's arms. "I'm not saying it's fair, my dear," he said, "I'm only telling you what I overheard. People are vicious and cruel and because you are not like them, because you and Rumplestiltskin are different, you are noticed. And because people dislike the man, though their reasons may be unwarranted, if they can cause him any pain, they are going to try. And now? It's clear what he holds dear."

"Me," Belle stated.

"You," Maurice agreed. "And because you are not like other girls, because you don't hold yourself to the same standards and you question the way of things, you are going to be called out as well. You've always been different and you've always known that. I've always encouraged it. But you must understand that in this place you have few allies. There are few who value you for who you are. Women are meant to be seen and not heard. And you, child, have never dealt well with silence."

"It's hardly right."

"I know," Maurice agreed. "But it's the way things are. And you've put yourself in a position for ridicule. And as much as it hurts my heart to know that people do not see you the way I do; as a beautiful, smart, capable young woman, I also understand that there are expectations of a young woman of our society. And though you disagree with it, you must adhere to it if you want any peace. You have to be careful, Belle," Maurice said earnestly, "Or you are going to get hurt."

"I'm already hurt," Belle admitted. "Wilmar called me a whore but he's pitied because he was punched by a girl, yet I'm looked upon with disdain because I had the courage to stand up for myself? For Rumple?"

"The world has never been a fair place," Maurice said solemnly. "It is a lesson I hoped you would never have to learn."

"And yet I feel as if I've just been given a sound lesson."

Maurice watched her for several long moments, trying to judge her mood. After a moment, he decided to speak once more. "You do know it will never get easier, yes?"

Belle lifted her eyes to meet his, and his heart ached at the pain he saw within. "What do you mean, Papa?" Her voice was small, and he saw her as a little girl once more.

"I have given you my blessing," he said, "But there are many who have not. Rumplestiltskin, despite your love for him, is beneath you. This marriage is not advantageous for you."

"He's not beneath me," Belle answered indignantly.

"No matter what you think," Maurice responded, "He is. He is poor. He does not have much to offer you. Not to mention the fact that he is an outcast in this village. Many feel you are making a grave error in marrying him. Despite people's thoughts about you, you are looked upon with more favor than Rumplestiltskin. By marrying him you are binding yourself to him and what is said against him will also be against you." He sighed heavily and pulled his daughter close to embrace her. "Would that I could protect you from the harshness of this world, Belle. But I cannot."

Belle wrapped her arms around her father, seeking comfort in his embrace. He was warm, and his large arms covered her small frame with ease. She rested against him, feeling safe and protected from the cruelty of the world outside. In here, in her father's arms she could pretend there was nothing else. Here she could be safe. "Is this how it is to be?" She asked, her voice muffled against his chest, "Always?"

"Most likely, my girl," He told her. "But if you marry him, even after this, then you are taking on this willingly. His pain will become your pain and you will have to be strong enough to endure it. You must be there for him for better and for worse. And there will be so much more of the latter. They will try to drag your name and your spirit through the mud. But you must not let them soil your spirit."

"I refuse to let either of us be dragged anywhere," she said with determination, stepping back to look at her father directly. "I'm not afraid of them. I love Rumplestiltskin and I don't give a fig what anyone else thinks on the matter. I will stand by him no matter what trials come our way."

For the first time since she'd arrived home, he smiled. "That's my girl."

"But there will be no wedding."

Maurice blinked. "What?"

"I will not share my day with people who treat my future husband and I poorly. They do not deserve to celebrate with us. All we need is a cleric and two witnesses for the contract. Why should you spend your money and feed those who will turn right around and speak ill of your daughter and her husband?"

"The villagers will be very put out if they are not invited," Maurice explained, though there was very little effort behind the words. "And they will be unforgiving. Scorning them will do you no favors in the future."

"They should have thought of that before they were unkind," She declared before squeezing her father's hands. "Do you support me in this, Papa?" She asked. "If you wish me to, I will carry on as planned. But I think it's time we stopped doing things just because others demand it of us. Change will never come unless someone is brave enough to usher it in."

He was silent for a long time, gazing at his daughter carefully. She was so brave and he admired her for her courage. Not only was she brave enough to love a man that no one else could, but she actively stood up for him and faced down hateful boys who thought it good fun to hurt others. When she admitted to him while Rumplestiltskin had been out cold that she'd punched Wilmar, he laughed, then sighed as he realized that she was indeed serious about pursuing the spinner. And now that the spinner held his daughter's heart, he knew that things would not be easy for them. But he also knew his daughter's tenacity and strength, and no one would convince her that Rumplestiltskin was not worthy of her love. If anything their words made her love him more, for he bore their cruelty with silent resolve. She had always been fond of helping those who were unable to help themselves.

"I think you're right, my girl," Maurice agreed. "Tell your boy your plan and if he's agreeable to it, we'll tell the whole village to screw themselves."

"Papa!" She exclaimed, laughing as his use of language. He always discouraged her from using such vulgar words, but it seemed her fire had sparked a touch of defiance in him as well.

"Go get some sleep," he told her, turning and gently pushing her toward her small room. "You're going to need all your strength in the days to come."

"Love is strength, Papa," Belle declared gently, turning to face him once more. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and grinned, "And between the love I have for you and Rumplestiltskin, I feel as if I could take on the world!"

Maurice watched his daughter retreat to the small divided space that was her room. "You're going to have to be," he murmured to himself, "But the world will be no match for you."

Author's Notes:

I hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving (or just a wonderful regular Thursday).

Thank you for all your kind words. I am extremely grateful for them.

I have a lot going on next week, so Chapter 8 may be posted on December 7 instead of December 6. But it will be up no matter what.

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