A letter lay open on a mahogany table. The figure in the chair stared at it with contempt. Another letter, another pardon. There had been one too many begging for leniency on their late tributes. He had been negligent in his ruling and the rulers are taking advantage of it. The Dark One's dagger had been cheapened to a mere letter opener, but after a constant flow of such letters, he thought it was time to unleash the creature upon them.
Twirling the dagger in his hand, he wondered idly on the best punishment for their insolence. Selling their loved ones into slavery would be a fitting sentence. Oh, he loved it when they grovelled at his feet. Begging. Wailing. Decided, Rumpelstiltskin summoned the Dark One. The command was at the tip of his tongue when the storyteller barged in with a dazzling smile. The smile was short-lived, however. It vanished instantaneously when she noticed the ominous presence. The king could not help the twinge of disappointment at the loss. Dismissing the Dark One to relay the threat of wealth, the king invited the storyteller to a seat. The couple failed to notice the slight singe in the carpet where the creature stood.
"You called, Your Majesty?" Belle asked once the ominous presence left the room.
"Yes. I have something that might be of interest to you." Rumpelstiltskin took out what appeared to be stacks of paper. As Belle edged closer to his desk and read the heading, a smile once again formed on her lips. She excitedly flipped through them as she greedily took in the words. It was a draft of a written law on education, something they once conversed in passing.
There was a tangible tension in the king's study. Rumpelstiltskin found Belle's stubbornness and idealistic views to be his constant source of frustration these days. It stemmed from her disagreement on the stipulation of the written clause. He argued the strain it would have on the kingdom's finances if every single child were to be given free schooling. He may be powerful and his kingdom wealthy, but with the steep population increase, his kingdom would suffer if he were to largely invest in it.
The matter was further complicated when only a handful of wealthy merchants were willing to fund schools. The monasteries on the other hand isolated themselves to the outside world. Whatever knowledge they had, they guarded it jealously. Taking it from them by force would cause uproar among the religious, and that was the last thing he wanted. There are not many lords willing to allow their peasants to be educated. The rest were fearful their future might be threatened. The peasants might start questioning the way things were done and a revolt might occur. Ultimately, it'll affect the kingdom's stability.
It appeared the effort he put into stringing the law could never be enough to placate his storyteller. There were too many variables to consider.
Belle was silently fuming next to the fireside while he violently stoked the flames. The silent tension did not sit well with him. He could take any insult and anger hurled his way but not those from his little storyteller. He did not know when or why he began to care for such trivial things especially coming from a supposed slave. Then again it had been a while since he last thought of her as such despite the collar that still clung to her neck. She had made a home in his shrivelled heart and he wondered how she had lodged herself there. Grappling for something to say, the king did not notice the hand that stilled his. He ran his eyes along the length of the limb. Upon reaching the owner's face he saw the glinting eyes. A crinkle at their edges told him all was well between them. He wondered when they started to read one another so well.
Sighing over their foolishness, he decided to present Belle with his second gift, one he was reluctant to tell when she did not agree with his decisions. Today was the day where the sky would light up in vibrant shades of colours. Knowing she yearned to see such spectacle, Rumpelstiltskin wanted to show her its wonder. Disbelief and awe warred in her gaze when he told her of the Northern Lights. Mentally applauding himself, he told her to meet him in his study at sundown.
"How do we get to the mountains?" chirped a curious voice to his left. Turning, the king was amused to see the ball of anxiety that was his companion.
"With these of course," the king said pointing to the pair of silver slippers on his feet.
Unable to hold in her amusement the storyteller snorted loudly, the king only raised an amused eyebrow.
"These are magical shoes, my dear. They transport the wearer to any place his heart desires." He held out a clawed hand. "Now, shall we?"
Taking the king's hand the storyteller looked in wonder at the slippers. He knocked his heels together three times and the pair disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke. In the blink of an eye, the couple found themselves standing on what appeared to be a plateau. The storyteller squealed when the first tell-tale sign of the Northern Lights paints the sky. The happiness exuded from the woman was so palpable that Rumpelstiltskin was certain the Dark One could bottle it. But right now was not the time for such thoughts. The Dark One had no place here. No vile creature would touch this beauty dancing to the music of the lights.
The pair talked well into the night and Belle told him of stories behind the constellations. He knew them of course, but he listened anyway. Anything that came from those sweet lips of hers slaked the ridiculous longing in his breast.
As time passed, the air grew colder and the light went dimmer. "Time to go," the king said when the storyteller started to shiver. Holding out a trembling hand one could say he was almost afraid of her reaction. They hardly touched and the few accidental brushing were kept as precious moments hidden in the far recess of his mind. She surprised him by wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Thank you," she mumbled in his chest. He smiled and briefly kissed the top of her head before he lost his courage. The smell of the forest must have settled on her for her hair smelled of pine trees. Few errant curls stood at odd angles due to her dancing and they tickled his nose. Careful not to scratch her skin with his clawed nails, he gently wrapped his arms around her before transporting them home. Home, a word that had become so foreign to him and one he had not associated with the castle for a long time.
When the couple appeared in his study, Belle still had her arms around him. For a moment he thought she might have fallen asleep. He whispered her name, telling her they have arrived. Dazedly, she looked up at him and slowly let her hands fall to her sides. When he commanded the stationed guard to escort her back, something flickered across her face, a hint of hesitation in her eyes. She was undecided about something, but before he could ask, she curtsied and bid him goodnight. Rumpelstiltskin was sure she was about to kiss him but shook his head at the ludicrous thought.
What was this feeling that flooded him? He saw himself letting her go. Saw her walking away from him… forever. He searched and searched but he had no answers. All he knew was this desire of wanting to be close to her. Be surrounded by her. He wanted to bask in her brilliance and lay his head on her chest. Being near her felt like coming home, but he has no right wanting such things, not when he had enslaved her against her will. His heart bled a little at the thought. When he heard her scream he ran through bushes of thorns, but he was too late. Her body lay broken in the mud; daisies surrounded her form before darkness consumed her.
The king struggled against his sheets and woke up in beads of sweat. His heart hammered against his chest and whimpered at the thought of losing Belle. When had he fallen in too deep? When did it start? After all these years of aloneness, why now and why her? Everything turned to dust at his touch and he had no right to mark Belle with his darkness. He should send her away, but it was too late. It had marked her and death will take her as it did his son.
Despondent, the king headed to his only place of solace.
Sitting on the damp ground beside the grave, he caressed the tombstone and let the tears fall. He knew not how long he has lain there nor did he care. When something hit him on the head he was brought out of his misery and snarled at the offender. No one was there. When another object hit his back he turned and shouted into the darkness. Someone giggled before emerging from behind the oak tree.