Rumplestiltskin had lived long enough to become an expert in the art of forgetting. He'd forgotten a great many things, important things, had put them out of his mind and seemingly out of his life and so he did the same with Belle. He banned her name from his thoughts, buried anything that reminded him off her on the edge of the forest and went into deep slumber for what it could have been weeks, months or years. When he awoke the trees were bare and the air crisp like he liked. He took up his old hobbies, scaring adolescent humans who snuck into the forest looking for some privacy, growling from the bushes at hikers, shredding the tents of campers in their sleep and occasionally slaughtering the deer and other small game that would be silly enough to step into his forest without noticing his presence.

But it all seemed to require more energy than he had, more enthusiasm than he could muster. As seasons turned over and over time, which in his immortal eye usually passed too fast to notice, seemed to slow down and drag painfully. He began to entertain strange, morose thoughts that hadn't entered his mind in centuries. Suddenly forever seemed like a long, long time. Not as enticing as before, certainly. He began to spend more time in his bed of moss in the clearing, enjoying the sun on his scales and a respite from his darker musings.

Given that those hours sunning were all he looked forward to every day he was more than a little miffed when he discovered some human sprawled on his spot taking a nap. His fault, obviously, for neglecting his duties as of late. Humans were starting to lose the healthy fear of the forest he'd instilled in them. There were even poachers roaming the woods some nights, looking for small game and annoying him with their loud weapons. He carefully nudged the sleeping human with his foot but it barely moved. Its size indicated an adult, but a small one at that, and there was something faintly disconcerting about its chestnut hair and long lashes. His first instinct- to howl like some sort of animal and scare it away- was dismissed once the imp saw what rested on the human's exposed throat.

Belle's necklace.

Come to think of it, the human had Belle's hair too. And her nose. And perfectly-shaped ears. He crouched down, crawling closer and leaning down really close to sniff. Belle's scent clung to the human heavily, leaving him to acknowledge the truth. The human was Belle.

Belle had grown up.

A part of him was surprised she lived at all. He'd thought enough time had passed that her small mortal life would've been over for sure. But thought it was clear that Belle had aged her skin was still unwrinkled, her hair full of colour. She looked, she looked…

Gorgeous.

Beauty was hardly something he found himself thinking about, specially in relation to humans. To him they all looked mostly the same, pale-skinned, mediocre in appearance as they were in everything else. As an imp he'd only ever been attracted to blood and violence and darkness. He'd never had other urges or even faint curiosity for any form of lust other than blood-lust.

But even though he knew very little about beauty it was clear Belle had grown up to be the epitome of it. He let one finger slowly trace a blue vein visible on her inner wrist and marvelled at the softness of her skin. Her lips were lush and redder than he remembered and her face had lost the baby fat, acquiring angles that he didn't remember seeing there before.

She'd come back. Beautiful and old and completely unable to see him now. When she opened her eyes that spark he'd seen wouldn't be there and she'd look right past him as if he didn't exist. It was a horrible thought. He wondered, resentfully, why she hadn't stayed away. Why she'd come back to torment him, to remind him of his loneliness. Of how no one believed in him anymore and the world was losing its colour and he had no place to call his own any-

"Rumple?"

When her eyes opened at first they were soft and warm, if a little bit confused. She blinked quickly, trying to adjust to the sunlight, a hand coming up to shade her face. He stumbled back, falling on his rear as he sought to distance himself from her. A hand shot up to wrap around his skinny wrist and he froze at the contact, like a deer caught in headlights. Belle's eyes were still impossibly blue and as she studied him, mouth slightly parted and breathing harsh, he caught a glimpse of the old spark. She was looking at him, touching him, like she was still a child and they had parted ways but yesterday.

"You're real."

The hand holding his wrist tightened its grip slightly before there was a rustling of clothing and suddenly Belle was lurching forward gracelessly, colliding with him and knocking the both of them into the ground. She was heavier than he remembered, warm from the sun, and her weight on him felt heavenly. He wrapped his arms around her, the gesture possessive and frightened, as if he was afraid she'd leave him like she had once, and his claws caught on the delicate fabric of her blouse, tearing. They spoke over each other, Belle commenting on his appearance and the feel of his scaly skin- "Just as I remembered!"- and him trying and failing to ask her where she'd been, why she'd left him behind. But she looked so thrilled to see him, to be back with him- her body trembled with excitement, making his shiver with something else, something similar but not quite- that he couldn't bear to lash out at her, to recall the anger and the hurt he'd felt in her absence. But he was unable to contain the question itself, which had been on the tip of his tongue for years now.

"Why did you leave, Belle? I looked for you in the village but you were gone."

They'd shifted so they lay side by side, a tangle of green-gold and pale white limbs bathed in sunlight. Belle brushed the hair back from his face and picked leaves out of it, the gesture strangely intimate. She'd groomed him before, many times, but it felt different now.

"My gran got sick. Cancer. Dad decided to move back to Australia to take care of her. It was a rather rushed affair and with dad always with me I couldn't get out. I thought it'd be for a little while, like a vacation, so it wouldn't matter much, but when dad enrolled me in a new school I knew it wasn't so."

Her eyes were watering, but she refused to blink and let the tears fall. Brave lass, his Belle. And stubborn.

"When I knew I wasn't coming back I tried to pretend I'd made you up. It was easier that way, it hurt less if I just thought I had stopped seeing an imaginary friend. But deep down inside I always remembered. You're a bit hard to forget."

Her laugh was sort of snuffly, a bit like a sob, but he joined her nevertheless with his customary giggle.

She kept on talking then, about going to college and becoming a librarian. About her dad's car accident a few years after her grandmother passed away, and how his life insurance had allowed her to go out and see the world. He listened avidly as she told him of her travels, her adventures, and her eyes shone so blue her skin look almost unnaturally pale in comparison.

Belle remained with him until it became too cold for her frail human skin to stay out, but she came back the next day, and the day after that. In many ways it was surprisingly easy to pick things up where they'd left off. Belle brought books to read to him and asked him in turn to tell her stories about his long life. She was just as skinny as before, if not more, so he brought her fruits and nuts and water from the creek to drink and lent her his furs and pelts to keep warm.

And so things were like before in many ways. In others, however, things were completely different. Awkward, in a way. Whereas before talking to Belle had felt natural now it seemed harder. He noticed, in a strangely fascinating way, that he became tongue-tied whenever she got close enough to him. He got the urge to both scramble back and lean closer and it was maddeningly confusing. Something roils in his stomach when he caught her scent and sometimes it was fluttery and timid and others almost feral. It was as if a part of him itched desperately and he wished to scratch but he didn't know where.

He tried. Scratching, that was. His claws hurt his scales, and all he ended up with were bald patches where he'd clawed himself raw.

Whatever it was it settled to a simmering ache in the pit of his stomach and a tug a bit lower. It felt a bit like the pull of blood-lust that he got when he scented blood in the air and a shiver of anticipation ran down his spine, but at the same time it was vastly different.

She slept more than she did as a child, often falling asleep while they talked of this and that. He pretended to be supremely annoyed by it, of course, but in secret he found it oddly endearing that she felt comfortable enough around him to fall asleep. As the days grew colder Belle took to snuggling beside him, wrapped in furs and sometimes tugging him down with her, her half-slumbering body seeking out his own warmth. It felt… strange. Not unpleasant as he always thought touch to be. There was comfort in it, and a possessive thrill. He wondered how many human males probably looked at Belle and wondered what it'd be to be held by her in such a way, to feel her soft and pliant beneath them, around them.

Adult Belle had one more difference from her wee version: she had a secret. It was big and tucked so closely to her heart he could only catch glimpses of it every now and then, a sort of mark hovering about her, taunting him. His little friend was lying to him and she was very good at it. Then again she always had been. She'd grown up lying to her father about every little thing that bothered her, afraid to be a burden, to make him worry. She'd lived and breathed that lie every day for years and he had no doubt she'd used that skill with others to hide what she thought were her flaws, the things in her she saw as ugly. But she'd never lied to him, not back then. Wee Belle had been an open book to him, he had known everything, down to the most unpleasant aspects, what she kept even from herself.

This Belle was guarded and he didn't care for that. He wanted all of her, like before only more. There was more Belle now, more experience and complexity and flesh and blood and he wanted it all.

Thoughts like that usually led his mind to sex. Ever since Belle had returned almost all mental paths seemed to lead there. He remembered entertaining a healthy curiosity for it in his early days as an imp. He'd spied humans going at it but it had seemed to him, at the time, graceless and deeply unsatisfying. A lot of grunting, a lot of sweating- both things he generally approved off- but not much else.

Now, however, he seemed to be warming up to the idea. His body certainly was, taking into account how instinctively it sought to mould itself to Belle's whenever he held her in her sleep. It happened more and more, which led him to suspect that whatever she was keeping from him was keeping her awake at night. So some afternoons, when he saw her nodding off, he grumbled and acted offended and declared he was not in the habit of entertaining people who weren't appreciative of his efforts. Then he'd command her to sleep so she could be clear-headed when he told her his best stories and Belle, following his lead, would apologize profusely, comment on his generous nature and make no comment as, about fifteen minutes after she'd curled up beside him when, it was clear she was having problems sleeping, he joined her. Sometimes he ran his claws through her hair, which he knew she found soothing, and the amount of care he put into making sure he didn't scratch her almost made her cry. Other times he crooned to her, making his voice low and mellifluous, pouring a bit of his remaining magic into it. When Belle was getting closer to sleeping she snuggled closer to him and a few minutes later she was out like a light.

The simmering heat in his belly would flare up then, spread across his body and make him ache all over. But it was a pain that felt too good, a pain he could live with forever. And when he looked around he could see the world had regained its colour. He felt energized, wrapped around Belle, as if she charged him up. He began making plans about chasing the poachers away from the forest and the necking couples and the nosy hikers.

When winter truly set in it seemed to take a toll on Belle. No coat or scarf seemed to be enough to keep her skin from feeling like ice and though she seemed to be braving it just fine Rumplestiltskin was determined that this would be her last unpleasant winter.

"I'll make you a coat out of my best furs and pelts. They need some work, of course, but I'll have plenty of time till next year. It'll be the warmest thing you've ever had on, just you wait. I'll start right away."

Belle frowned, her nose scrunching up in a way he thought made her look like a rabbit.

"You shouldn't bother."

She smiled and made a gesture as of to dismiss the subject but she wouldn't look at him in the eye.

"No bother. If it'll make you feel better you can always bake me some apple tarts to compensate."

Though adult Belle didn't seem to eat much she cooked like he imagined only heavenly creatures did and he wolfed down whatever she deemed to put in front of him. His sweet tooth had been both a welcome and unwelcome surprise.

"It'd be a waste, Rumple." He gazed at her in confusion, not understanding, but she still wouldn't look at him. "Just drop it."

He saw it then, in the bruises underneath her eyes, in the shadowed portion of her face. Her secret.

"What aren't you telling me?"

His words were barely more than a hiss, his demeanour changing completely. There was something wrong, terribly wrong, and she was keeping it from him. She reached out to touch him, try to calm him down, but he flinched away, baring his teeth. Belle sighed, leaning back against the trunk of a tree and rubbing a hand across her face.

"Don't be like that."

Her words made him even angrier. A small bubble of doubt, which had popped into his gut the moment she'd returned and had grown in size ever since, suddenly burst inside him and he knew, he knew, the secret she kept from him.

"You won't be around next winter, will you? You're leaving again."

Leaving me, he wanted to add but didn't. There was pride in him left, after all.

"It's not… it's more complicated than that. I… I don't want to leave you, but-"

"Little Belle got out of this town and saw the world. And after a taste of that why bother going back to this old place to stay?" He fell back on his mocking on instinct, relying on giggles and amused cruelty to protect himself.

"It's not like that at all."

Colour rose on her usually pale cheeks and her eyes flashed fire. For a brief moment she seemed to be telling the truth, to be full of self-righteous fury.

"How is it then, human?"

She deflated before his eyes, the energy she seemed to have summoned from nowhere leaving her. She looked tired.

Tired of me.

"Leave."

"Rumple, please-"

"That's what you're going to do anyway, so why not speed things along? Leave."

"If you'd just-"

His magic might have diminished considerably over the years but it hadn't completely vanished. Using his anger as a powerful fuel he summoned strong gusts of wind, remembering the power of showmanship, and made the already-cloudy sky darken more.

"I said LEAVE."

A lightening bolt struck a nearby tree and for the first time in his life he saw genuine, naked fear in Belle's eyes. She stumbled upright, almost tripping as she quickly picked her way out of the forest, in her haste leaving behind the book she'd been sharing with him. He grabbed it and, in a fit, tore it to shreds, finding comfort and satisfaction in the way the binding gave into his claws and the pages scattered around him.

This is what he needed, he thought. Destruction and carnage and chaos, not meddling little human girls making a fool out of him. And with that thought in mind he stalked towards his well, dug up his collection of trinkets and curiosities and tore through it, smashing anything breakable, tearing anything his claws could sink into and setting fire to the rest. It lasted minutes or hours, he wasn't sure, and by the time he was done there was precious little left and he was exhausted.

He oscillated during the next days between a sluggish apathy, a desire to burrow inside his well and sleep till the world stopped spinning, and periods of intense anger. Humans ruined everything and little by little they had taken everything from him. His magic first, his home later and Belle… Belle had taken something too. He didn't know what but he felt it missing, felt a hollow where whatever Belle took with her should be. And she'd also left something behind, something that churned unpleasantly right below his stomach in that place where before he'd felt nothing.

Humans were trouble and Belle was the most troublesome human of all. He was lucky to be rid of her in any case and he told himself that repeatedly, specially on days where he swam in apathy and the idea of getting up never crossed his mind. He hated those days and how more and more difficult it was to crawl his way out of them.

He was deep in the middle of one such day, curled up inside his well determined to turn his back on the world and everything in it when the scent of blood reached his nostrils. That alone made him lift his head slightly to catch a bit more of the scent. Human, he realized with a spark of interest. Human and nearby. Beneath the stench of blood he could detect traces of gunpowder and the mixture of scents took him back to when he'd first drawn breath as an imp. That had been the scent his nose had first caught.

It was enough to get him on his feet and prowling the forest. The poachers were at it again and they'd mistaken some poor sod in the forest for a deer. The bastard was bleeding fast, the scent of their blood was thick in the air. He followed it easily, catching a glimpse of the retreating poacher, clearly more eager to save his own hide than to assist whoever he'd left bleeding out in the middle of the forest. Humans could always be counted upon to be selfish.

"Well, well, what have we-"

Taunting men in the brink of death had once been a favourite pastime of his. Humans were so curious when dying, defiant some and scared others, many calling out to their mother or another loved one, some even confessing all manner of sins into the air, hoping for absolution from them. In the brink of death almost all humans could see him, even now, so he enjoyed crouching next to the dying and toying with them a little. Watching the light go out of their eyes was a beautiful thing too, in the way all dark things are.

Had it been anyone else lying on the dirt and blood he'd had a grand time. But he knew that small, thin body, and that chestnut hair. Knew how it'd shine red if the light caught it right. The body shook, the poor soul trying to breathe even as a sickly wet sound made it clear the lungs were filled with blood.

"No, no, no, no, no, no."

As he approached he was assaulted with the pungent smell of death. It was sweet, almost sickeningly so and he found himself feeling ill by just how good it smelt to him. Death usually did, but never this good. Belle dying was the best thing he'd ever smelt.

"Wake up, dearie, rise and shine."

He dropped to the floor next to her head and gently patted her cheek. He had to keep her awake, had to keep her talking, had to keep her with him. He didn't want to fade, didn't want to die, but he didn't want to live alone either. He wanted to be with her, always.

"Please wake up, Belle. Please. Don't leave me. Don't go."

It was impossible to pick her up without coating himself almost entirely in blood. She was light as a feather, still but for her few laboured breaths and the occasional twitching of her fingers but her eyes were open and so he pretended she was awake and could hear him.

"I never told you this because I think we're not supposed to. None of the others like admitting it, it's a secret shame we all like not to think about. I… I was human once. I died in that battle that saw me born as an imp. It's like that for all of the others like me, we all were once pink-skinned, soft and frail. Human. But our souls took the wrong path, held on to the earth and embraced whatever would keep them there."

He glanced around to see they'd made it to the middle of the forest, to a place completely barren. It smelt strongly of death and violence and loss. Of pain too, and regret. A battlefield of sorts, newer than most he'd been to, the dark magic perhaps too young, but also fresh. He laid Belle down carefully and viciously tore at her clothes, his claws making an easy job of it. In second she was naked, the skin not covered by blood or dirt shining white in the moonlight. Rumplestiltkin then gently held her face, turning it slightly so her eyes would find his.

"You have to want it. Belle, listen, please, you have to want it. Do you want to live?"

At first he thought he might be too late, but a few seconds later Belle blinked and her eyes focused on him.

"I don't… I don't wanna leave…"

"Good, good, there's a good lass. You have to want it Belle. And you have to think of something to hold on to. I had… I had a son. My Bae. Such a good lad. He was a wee bairn when I died, I didn't want to leave him alone. That's why I got lost and I held on to the dirt and the blood beneath me. Find something Belle, something you have, something you wanna hold on to and grip it tight."

He knew she had no family and she'd never mentioned any friends or other loved ones. Not any material possessions either, nothing to protect, to cling to possessively and never let go. He'd lose her.

He coated his fingers in her blood and painted old symbols, powerful symbols. Symbols to trap things, to root them to the spot, to keep them where they were. He painted symbols of possession and ownership, symbols of submission and surrender, and as the moon illuminated them they sunk into her skin. The magic of the ground beneath her responded to his hasty commands and wrapped itself around Belle, changing the soft, deathly pallor of her skin for a faint silver-gold hue, tinted her lips the colour of pomegranate and darkened her hair. Her pupils enlarged, the blue giving way to something a bit darker than red.

As a human Belle had been breathtaking. As as an imp Belle was maddening, a creature made of steel and ice, a force to be reckoned with. He could see the potential in her, the life she could lead if only she could hold on past the night, past the moonlight currently keeping her there. He'd seen many not make it, the half-borns that faded when the dawn came, too weak to cling to the world. So he sat down, cradled Belle close and rocked her back and forth, urging her to fight for her place, to refuse to go.

"I wanna stay…"

Belle's voice was huskier than usual but audible all the same. Rumplestiltskin sighed in relief.

"You can stay. You just have to think of a reason. Just a reason, Belle, something to tie yourself to. Tell me why you want to stay. Maybe friends or some place to protect…" His hold tightened around her as he thought of another possibility. "It's different for everyone. Don't fight it. Just… just pick something and let the magic guide you. Do what it comes natural."

When Belle wrapped her nude arms around him he was surprised to feel claws dig into his shoulder blades. In his arms she felt like Belle, but her scent was slightly different.

"I wanna stay with you."

She gripped him a little tighter, burrowing her head in the crook of his shoulder. Unlike his own scaly skin hers had acquired a sleek, slippery feel. He felt a tug in that area bellow his belly that only seemed to come alive for Belle and forced himself to concentrate. As far as he knew spirits couldn't tie themselves to spirits. But his magic didn't seem to be aware of that, busy as it was sniffing at Belle's transforming body and trying to sink into it, into her. He began to feel strange, dizzy and shaky and like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. The moonlight washing over them was suddenly too bright.

"I wanna be with you."

He barely registered when Belle removed his vest, but he sprang into awareness when her tongue darted out to lick his neck. The tug beneath his tummy turned into an overwhelming ache, and if it wasn't for his fear and confusion over whatever seemed to be taking over him he'd have revelled in the feeling.

"Forever."

She shifted, moving to straddle him and though a part of him was completely lost another part, a small part he'd forgotten long ago, seemed to know exactly what was going on.

"Belle, I… I don't know…"

His high-pitched voice betrayed his panic but instead of pulling away Belle simply raised a hand to gently pat his cheek. It was bloodied, like most of her, so he tentatively licked it, feeling her rumble in approval.

"You do. I can make your remember."

Her skin seemed to burn his whenever they touched, but pain had never felt sweeter. When she stroked her fingers across his mouth he obediently opened up and took them into his mouth, savouring the blood in them. That he could do, that was instinctual and so when he finished sucking her fingers clean he moved his mouth up her arm, thoroughly bathing the skin until it was spotless again. She guided his head down next, to her collarbone, and he licked and mouthed at her skin, lapping at her blood greedily.

When she attempted to move his head back up he grunted and disregarded her hands, busy as he was making sure the underside of her left breast was completely clean. A second later he felt a harsh tug on his hair and with a whimper he acquiesced to the unspoken demand, lifting his head. He was rewarded when her lips pressed against him. He'd seen humans kiss, many times, but he still had no clue how to go about it. Her hands came up to cup his jaw, tilting his head just so and then pressing against his nape, urging him closer. She moved her lips over his almost savagely and after a while he caught on. It was a battle, a fight with teeth and lips and tongue. He began mimicking her actions, looking for the correct rhythm she was setting, looking to submissively follow.

Dimly he was aware that her hands trailed down his shoulders, leaving deep, angry scratches in their wake before settling over his thighs, her claws making short work of his roughly-sewn trousers. The night air felt cold on his newly-exposed skin and when he pressed closer to Belle to catch her warmth he realized his cock was fully erect. It'd happen a handful of time over the years, in situations of extreme excitement, but it hadn't ached as it did now, hadn't felt like he was about to explode if he didn't do… something.

Anything.

His fidgeting alerted her of his predicament and in one fluid motion she had him on his back, arms spread to the side and pinned down. She looked hungry and dangerous, like a predator preparing to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. But there was something else in her eyes, something softer and warmer and comfortingly familiar. And he knew then that, whatever the reason why Belle had told him she had to go she truly hadn't wanted to. And now she didn't have to leave him ever again if she wanted to. If she chose to to stay.

When she took him in hand he almost thought he'd go mad from the sensations, which he couldn't tell were pleasurable or painful anymore, and his hips bucked almost against his will. A moment later she positioned his member carefully beneath her sex and lowered herself ever-so-slowly, inch by bloody inch, until her hips were flush against his. And suddenly he understood why humans made such a fuss about sex, why it could topple kingdoms and make reasonable people behave like lunatics. Dimly he wondered how humans ever did anything else, specially when Belle started rocking back and forth and slightly up and down, clenching some inner muscles that must have been designed specifically to drive him mad.

Some feral animal started howling nearby and it took a while before Rumplestiltskin realize it was him, but above him Belle was moaning and riding him harder than before so he continued to scream. He pleaded with her and cursed at her, told her he was happier without her and nothing without her and when she took pity on him and placed his hands on her hips and he found he could thrust up and meet him halfway he thought there had never been a more perfect moment in his entire life. The sensations kept piling one over the other and when he was sure he couldn't be made to endure more the feeling burst. Above him Belle cried out his name, letting her head fall back so that the moon bathed her completely and he knew then that she'd broken too, that he had broken her.

When it finally passed he felt weak as a kitten and sighed in bliss when Belle cradled his head and pressed it against the valley of her breasts. Her claws delicately combed through his hair, the gesture more motherly than anything else and he welcomed it. When he finally opened an eye he saw the moon was gone and the pale light of pre-dawn bathed the forest. He tightened his grip on Belle, his Belle finally, his and his alone, and thought about all the things he'd teach her and all the things they'd do. The future unrolled before his eyes, neverending for the first time in a long time and he smiled and giggled against Belle's skin, shivering when he felt her start to lap at the many scratches on his skin.