Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Excerpt from 'A Pirate's Love' By Johanna Lindsey also does not belong to me and I am simply borrowing a very tiny bit for story purposes. I do not make any money off of my writing, including this story. This is merely for fun.

Tags: *Belle/Rumpelstiltskin, *Belle, *Rumpelstiltskin, *Maurice, *Gaston, *Gabriel OC, *Fluff, *Dark Castle fic, *Dark One Rumpelstiltskin, *Maid Belle, *rumbelleprompts on tumblr, *Prompt fill

Summary: Maurice invites Rumpelstiltskin to bring Belle to Avonlea so she might see the rejuvenation and recovery of her kingdom due to her deal with the Dark One. The king isn't sure what to think when he witnesses firsthand the changes wrought between the two due to their unconventional relationship.

Anonymous asked:

Belle being sassy, irreverent, playful and affectionate toward the Dark One in front of other people (Maurice, his council, other royals, etc.) – So, we often read many fics in which Belle is comfortable, mischievous and very demonstrative towards Rumpelstiltskin when they are alone. Can we have a fic with other people seeing this adorable dynamic between them and being quite astounded that the Dark One not only lets her get away with it, but he's also fun, gentle and an all-around puppy with her?

I really did start out wanting to write a o/s to fill the prompt. HOWEVER, I completely went off the rails and it morphed into something bigger. I can't help it. I'm a windbag who has to pay way too much attention to detail and add one plot after another … yes, I'm hopeless, but hey … multichapter. That's good, right? Just a little bit more for you to (hopefully) enjoy.

A/n: Also, this is for my darling, moonlight91. Happy belated birthday, sweetling. I love you bunches. *huggles*

The Not So Dark One

By:

CharlotteAshmore

" … Bastida, show yourself!" Tristan called out angrily. A moment later, he came face to face with the man who had haunted his dreams for so many years.

Belle's grip on the novel in her left hand tightened as she edged closer to the edge of the settee, her spine ramrod straight and her right fisted in her skirt. The crackling of the fire in the hearth and the rain pelting against the windows of the tower library were drowned out by the pounding beat of her heart.

It had been almost fifteen years since Tristan had set eyes on this man, but he had changed little since then. He was thinner, perhaps, and his features were blunter and more lined with age, but he was otherwise the same.

"So, we meet at last, Tristan," Don Miguel said in a light tone as he came into the room, his sword on one hip, a dagger on the other.

"You recognize me?" Tristan asked, his hand going immediately to the hilt of his sword. But Bastida disappointed him with his answer.

"No, but I saw you earlier in town and heard you called by name. Perhaps if I knew your full name, I might –"

"You never knew my name, Bastida!" Tristan hissed sharply. "It did not matter to you then, so it is of no consequence now." He glanced quickly to the doors that led off the entryway; then he looked back to Bastida, his eyes like ice. "Where is Bettina?"

"In there," Don Miguel answered, pointing to an open door.

"And my child?"

Bastida laughed fiendishly. "She is giving birth to the bastard now."

Belle reached out for the cup of tea she'd all but abandoned on the tea table next to her perch, her eyes never leaving the page. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, panting breaths echoing in the otherwise still room. She was literally on the edge of her seat wondering how the hero would ever get past his nemesis to rescue the woman he loved. The heroine had been bound to the bookshelf in her room, about to give birth with no way to catch her child. Belle was nearly in tears with the desire to strangle the author.

Tristan paled and started for Bettina's room, but Don Miguel stepped in front of him, Tristan drew his sword and stood back, and Bastida did likewise, a malicious smile playing on his lips.

"Bettina! Bettina, are you alright?" Tristan called out.

Belle set her cup down and reached for the last tart upon the small plate she'd brought up on the tea tray, her fingers brushing against nothing but crumbs. She refused to take her eyes from the page, knowing full well there had been one last tart left upon the plate. At the moment, however – and despite her growling belly – she was more interested in the fates of the hero and heroine of the book than the thought of a missing tart.

"The castle won't clean itself, dearie," the impish voice of her master trilled as he leaned over the back of the settee to peer at what she was reading.

Her book went flying as she shot to her feet, her scream echoing through the vast circular chamber which housed her precious books. "Rumpelstiltskin!"

The Dark One giggled madly before popping the last peach tart into his mouth and straightening with a smug smirk. He waved his left hand airily, long fingers clutching a stack of correspondence. "The bannisters need polishing, yet here I find my maid with her nose stuck in another book."

"Yes, well –"

He swept around the settee and flopped down into an armchair where he could better take in her flustered appearance. He couldn't help but appreciate her heightened color and stormy blue eyes. "You know … when I gave you this library, I remember telling you something along the lines of –"

Belle huffed a breath and rolled her eyes at him before bending to retrieve her book where it had fallen face down on the rug, thoroughly inspecting it for signs of damage. "I should be cleaning, not reading. Yes, yes, I remember."

Setting the stack of letters and missives on his lap, he reached for the teapot and lifted the lid, frowning when he found it empty but for a few dregs along the bottom. "No tea? Dearie, just how long have you been dawdling up here?"

Her pearly teeth sank into her lower lip, the sharp edges worrying the soft, pink flesh. "Um … since just after breakfast?"

Rumpelstiltskin snorted and cast a pointed look at the clock over the mantle, the timepiece revealing it to be just before four in the afternoon. "I did wonder why you hadn't called me for luncheon," he drawled.

Belle winced, her fingers anxiously toying with the pages of her book as she fought to keep herself from glancing down to pick up where she'd left off. Her lips curled into a bright smile. "Shall I serve it in the hall, or would you prefer to take your tea here in the library?"

His mischievous amber eyes narrowed upon her. "Oh, I'm quite comfortable here, dearie. And don't forget the tea cakes this time, hm? Or perhaps there might be some of those lovely peach tarts … if you haven't eaten them all," he mumbled the last in an aside, knowing she could clearly hear him. He took every opportunity to get a rise out of his little maid. What was life without its little entertainments?

She dipped into a curtsey, pressing her book against her chest. "Right away," she beamed, turning to head down into the castle proper, but his voice had her stumbling to a halt.

"Oh, Belle …"

"Yes, Rumpelstiltskin?" she asked, feeling as if a lead balloon had been stuffed into her stomach. Anytime he used that tone of voice, it never boded well for her.

His mouth formed a devilish smile. "Leave the book."

An undignified squeak left her lips as her face fell. "But –"

"Tea won't make itself," he giggled again, holding out his hand for the tome which had caused her to laze the day away … again.

Belle handed it over to him and turned smartly on her heel, grumbling on her way down the stairs. It didn't help that his manic laughter seemed to follow her all the way to the kitchen.

*.*.*

The kettle made enough noise to wake the dead as it met the bottom of the sink, the sound more than apt to meet the caretaker's mood. She quickly fiddled with the pump until the copper basin was filled and then bore it to the hearth to hang it from the hook.

"Infuriating man!" Belle grumbled to herself as she moved to the island and began preparing the teapot.

She had been in the Dark Castle for over nearly a year, and had explored every nook and cranny available to her. There were still some doors which wouldn't open for her due to danger or Rumpelstiltskin's secrets. However, it was her home. If she were being honest with herself, she felt more at home in the stone fortress than she ever had in her father's palace by the sea, Avonlea bordering the marshes to the south and mountains in the north. She'd never been mistreated, but she would be the first to admit she had never been cut out for the life of a princess.

King Maurice had only wanted the best for her. The best education befitting a woman of her station – which would never be vast enough considering her thirst for knowledge – a wardrobe of fine satin, silks and velvets, sumptuous food to tempt her palate, a stable full of horseflesh to sate her need for exercise, a betrothal to the most eligible bachelor in the land … nothing was too good for his daughter. And she hated it. Belle, high princess of Avonlea, would have loved nothing more than to be herself instead of having to bend to the high expectations of her beloved papa.

Why was it so unheard of to simply allow her to hole up in the library and lose herself to adventure, daring sword fights, sorcerers later revealed to be the hero to win the fair maidens heart, and true love. Oh, how she adored tales of true love. When she had made her deal with the Dark One, she'd had a bevy of nightmarish scenarios play through her mind - one more gruesome than the next - as she'd wondered what might happen to her when she arrived at his rather large estate.

Belle snorted, disappearing into the larder to fetch down some of the treats she'd baked yesterday to tempt his appetite. Who'd have ever thought the Dark One could have such a sweet tooth.

Rumpelstiltskin had been a mystery the first several weeks of her tenure at the Dark Castle. He was still an enigma, but much easier for her to read now. She wouldn't deny she'd been frightened of him at first. That had lasted all of five minutes after she'd gotten over her homesickness. Oh, he had tried to show her how evil he was, but after he'd spared the thief and gifted her with the library, she'd known there was good in him. Much to his dismay, his further attempts to intimidate her had failed. It was simply impossible after she'd been kidnapped and she had gotten a glimpse behind his mask, a small inkling that he actually cared for her.

She thought his awkwardness was adorable, especially when she was able to render the spinner of deals speechless. To her, he was simply a lonely man – bored out of his mind and without a friend in the world – in search of a companion who could show him just a modicum of friendship.

Which is what had led her to the kitchen to make tea instead of being able to finish her novel. It wasn't unusual for him to seek her out when he was at loose ends and in need of conversation, stilted as it might be. Belle sighed, realizing she was being unfair to him because she was frustrated. He indulged her by allowing her so much time to spend reading in her library instead of forcing her to work her fingers to the bone with menial chores. Considering he treated her more as a friend than a maid as of late, she couldn't begrudge him a few hours of her time.

With a lighter heart, enough sweets to feed a small village and a much better attitude, she ascended the stairs to the library. Belle nearly dropped the tray when she found him standing by one of the mullioned windows perusing the book she'd been reading. Her face flamed with embarrassment. What must he think of her to discover the tawdry theme of the story?

Belle set the tray down on the tea table and busied herself with preparing their cups, adding a liberal amount of honey and a slice of lemon to Rumpelstiltskin's. She would have happily stood on her head if it would have saved her from having to meet his gaze. Unfortunately, she had no choice as he resumed his seat in the plush armchair and cocked a brow in her direction.

She took in his expression from the corner of her eye and groaned inwardly. "So, have you decided what you'd like me to make for dinner?" Belle asked, avoiding the elephant in the room. She wasn't going to bring up her choice of reading material if he didn't.

The fates chose not to smile upon her. They were fickle bitches bent upon her destruction, apparently.

"Are you certain you can fit it into your schedule, dearie?" her master drawled as he set the tome next to the tea tray and accepted the chipped cup from her.

Belle peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, her lips twitching with suppressed mirth at his droll quip. "It will be difficult, but I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to starve," she teased back.

Rumpelstiltskin watched her over the rim of his cup before reaching for one of the tarts she'd set upon his plate. "Some of the braised lamb you served last night will suffice. No sense in allowing it to go to waste." He chewed the little bite-sized tart, never relinquishing her gaze. "It seems we'll have to work on portions once again."

The princess-turned-maid snorted and eyed him speculatively. "Should I be raising them, then? I know for a fact you made two trips to the larder after I'd stored the leftovers, Rumpelstiltskin. Were you feeling a might peckish?"

The sorcerer sniffed indignantly despite being amused by her cheek. "Being this evil tends to work up an appetite."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, reaching for one of the small sandwiches to add to her plate. "You can stop being overdramatic. It no longer works on me. Besides, I would rather think of you as misunderstood." Her voice softened in register as she lifted her eyes to meet his. "You're not a monster, Rumpel."

He wrinkled his nose at her playfully. "So much easier to fool you, my dear."

Belle shook her head and turned back to her tea, gazing longingly at the book lying on the tea table. Of course, he didn't miss a thing, her master.

Rumpelstiltskin tapped the hardcover tome with one long black nail, the corner of his lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Methinks if you have time to question my moral fiber, I should perhaps give yours equal consideration. I'm rather shocked by your choice of reading material considering you are thought to be a well-bred young woman of the nobility."

The natural blush on her cheeks deepened. "I can argue that I'm reading about scandalous scenarios rather than sneaking off to experience them firsthand for myself," she retorted.

The sorcerer snorted a laugh, amused by her logic and reasoning. He handed it over to her without a second thought now that he had gained her company and refreshments. "Here you are, dearie. I know you will perish from suspense should you not discover young Bettina's fate."

Belle's mouth dropped open. "You've read it?"

One imperious brow arched questioningly. "Did you really think I would give you a library without first knowing what I was giving you to read?"

Wide cerulean eyes took him in for a full minute before she found her voice. "Wait … you knew about this book and still thought it was appropriate for me to read?"

Rumpelstiltskin set his cup on the tray and picked up his correspondence once more, waving his hand flippantly. "Every young maiden should be aware what their fate could be when dealing with pirates." He scowled as his eyes lowered to the cover of the book. "That author has odd ideas as to what makes a fascinating read, by the way."

"Hm, yes … well," Belle cast around for something to say. In good conscience, she couldn't defend the atrocities the writer had put the heroine through while coaxing the reader to believe it to be love.

Her master lifted the first letter to peruse just as she opened her mouth, but he cut her off gently. "Read your book, Belle."

She smiled at the use of her given name on his tongue, warmth spreading throughout her limbs. She hated it when he called her dearie. It's what he called the desperate souls who called upon him, and she liked to believe they'd moved past that. Knowing when to pick her battles, she settled back onto the settee and searched for the place she'd left off.

*.*.*

Rumpelstiltskin glared down at the stack of correspondence upon his leather-clad lap. There were several which would require a second look, but most went into the discard pile. Those weren't quite desperate enough to deal with, in his opinion. He should know, considering it had been centuries he'd been at his current profession. If he could even call it that.

He glanced up at his little maid where she was still engrossed in the final chapters of her novel. The heavy vellum bearing the king of Avonlea's seal made his stomach twist with something akin to dread. It was the sorcerer's own name which stared up at him instead of Belle's, but he couldn't help but feel anxious. Was the monarch writing to beseech the Dark One to return the princess to Avonlea? The deal to save the kingdom by the sea had been between himself and Belle. The king had no hope of changing the bargain.

Belle had made a marked difference in his life, and he wasn't so stubborn he couldn't admit it had been for the better. She soothed and calmed him, when she wasn't arguing with him, at least. She showed interest in his dealings, always with warm enthusiasm, hoping he would sate her curiosity with a story. She would seek him out to make sure he ate unless she got caught up in a book as she'd done today. His little caretaker made him feel wanted. Something he'd never felt before. Belle shared her life – such as it was – with him. She valued his opinion and laughed at his dark humor. She banished his loneliness and made his life just a bit more bearable. The bright light of her soul chased away the darkness until he didn't feel as if he were drowning.

Rumpelstiltskin snorted to himself. The king – her bloody father – could forget about having her back. He needed her more. The color drained from his face leaving him looking more green than gold as that thought settled deep into his bones. He ignored the chortling of his curse in the back of his mind. He pushed away those troubling thoughts and pried the seal open with his blackened thumbnail. He refused to sit there and ponder feelings he may or may not have for the girl. Time to get back to business.

Rumpelstiltskin,

I humbly invite you to come to Avonlea to view firsthand the restoration and recovery of our kingdom. It was through your efforts and the sacrifice our princess made which has brought such prosperity to our people.

Yours in friendship,

Maurice Beaumont

Sovereign of Avonlea

Belle closed her book with a sigh and set it on the table next to him. Seeing his narrowed eyes, she reached over and rested her hand upon his knee. He flinched involuntarily, his gaze snapping up to hers to see the worry settled in her features. "You're wearing your Dark One face. Is something wrong?"

"I'm not entirely certain," he shrugged, thrusting the missive in her direction. "You tell me."

She read it over once, then twice before her eyes widened. She lowered the piece of correspondence to her lap in time to see her wily master rise from his armchair to pace an anxious path before the hearth. Her poor rug would never be the same, she was sure.

"You're suspicious, of course," she murmured softly. She knew him well enough to know he would not respond well to a confrontational tone. If she were honest, she shared his feelings. It wasn't like her dear father to be so conciliatory.

Rumpelstiltskin twirled his hand in a dramatic flourish as he whipped around to spear her with his gaze. "It's a trick … it has to be … and nothing less than I've expected from him for quite a while. In his eyes, I spirited you away against your will to bring you here to debauch and defile you seven ways to sabbath."

Belle shot to her feet and planted her hands on her hips, righteous indignation flashing in her azure eyes. "You bloody well did not! I chose to call upon you, Rumpelstiltskin. I accepted the terms you stated for our deal. I made the choice to go with you," she retorted hotly. "And you most certainly have not done any harm to my person."

He leaned a hand against the mantel, what seemed like the weight of the world resting upon his shoulders. "It doesn't matter that we know the truth, Belle. From the second you allowed me to lead you from that council room, they saw you as the Dark One's whore."

She sucked in a sharp breath, her face flaming with color to the roots of her hair. The air between them thickened, his words like a poised viper seeking to sink its teeth into her soul. Finally, she just shook her head. "I don't care what anyone thinks. I did the right thing."

"Belle …"

"No!" she hissed, wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't regret our deal, Rumpelstiltskin. You saved my people in return for my service as your maid. You could have been absolutely horrible." Her voice became small until it didn't sound like her at all, and he hated it. "You could have raped or murdered me considering the reputation surrounding the Dark One, but you've treated me with kindness and respect. They don't know the kind of man you are."

The sorcerer inched closer to her, one clawed hand reaching out to offer her comfort before he second guessed himself and let it fall to his side. "And you do?" he asked.

Her lips quirked up into some semblance of a grin. "I know enough." Belle reached out and took his fidgeting hand in hers, enjoying the surprise which lit his face at her touch. "But back to the matter at hand … I don't want to believe my father would try some subversive, underhanded tactics, however; I think it would be wise to get a lay of the land, so to speak."

She corresponded with her dear papa at least once a month, and he hadn't said anything untoward or otherwise suspect. Mostly, he sent news of home and asked after her well-being. He shared his worries and sent his love. Yet, she couldn't help but feel anxious that he might try to gain her freedom from the beast – as he had once referred to Rumpelstiltskin – by some duplicity or another. Belle truly loved her father … she just didn't trust him. He hadn't become the great ruler he was by being weak, and a little subterfuge wasn't beneath him.

A giggle trilled from his lips as his Dark One mask fell back into place. "You wish me to spy on your dear papa? What a novel thought … and so unlike you, my little maid."

Belle dropped his hand with a humph. "Oh, hush. You were no doubt already planning to do so anyway."

"Perhaps," he conceded.

"Well, plot away, oh evil one. However, you're going to have to do it alone as I have dinner to make," she said, returning their tea things to the tray to bring down to the kitchen.

Rumpelstiltskin's face fell in disappointment. "But you haven't told me what you thought about your novel. I was hoping we could discuss it."

Belle smiled, wishing she had the time to sit with him for a few hours more. He must be bored to tears if he wanted to talk with her about a romance novel. She lifted the tray and shot him a smile over her shoulder. "We'll need something to talk about over dinner, now won't we?"

The Dark One watched her go before glancing at the clock atop the mantel. He still had a handful of hours before dinner would be ready to serve. It would behoove him to get a firm idea of Maurice's true intentions before agreeing to a visit. If the king was, indeed, on the up and up, perhaps his little maid would like to join him on the trip. She would be happy to see the fruits of her sacrifice, wouldn't she?

*.*.*

The first place he visited upon his return to the Dark Castle was his tower workroom. The Dark One's stomach rumbled with hunger as the aroma of whatever Belle was preparing in the kitchen permeated every stone of the fortress. Upon her arrival in his home, Rumpelstiltskin had provided her with all manner of books pertaining to culinary pursuits, recipes, and basic techniques. He hadn't known she'd take to it so easily considering her former life as a pampered noble, but he'd be the first to admit he was happy she had.

He moved to a chest he kept full of treasures set beneath one of the windows in the circular room and dug deep until he found what he was looking for. It was a delicate bracelet, a double row of perfectly matched pearls interspersed with tiny diamonds … something she could wear on her person which would be easy to charm.

Rumpelstiltskin sat down on the high stool at his work bench and held the bracelet close to his face, breathing the incantation into being against the delicate pearls until the entire piece of jewelry glowed with a faint purple hue of magic.

His short trip to Avonlea had been a bit of a revelation. In his experience, especially with his gift of foresight, it wasn't easy to take the Dark One by surprise. He'd perched himself high in the rafters of the king's council room and sat back to listen to what was sure to be plans for his demise if he accepted Maurice's invitation.

"I don't want to hear another word," Maurice growled in an authoritative tone reserved for one with the power of his title to back him up. "It has been decided."

"But, your majesty –" came the protest from Belle's former betrothed.

"Silence!" the king barked. "Rumpelstiltskin has kept true to his word. The ogres have been banished and the land is recovering, prospering in fact. Our lakes and rivers are the cleanest I've seen them in years and the soil is so fertile, you could toss out a handful of grain and see it sprout within a week's time with no effort."

Gaston rose to his feet and paced around the long table where the king and his advisors sat, his stride full of righteous anger, his hand upon his sword. "He is a vile beast who stole our princess away, my betrothed!" he snarled, his face twisting into a vicious mask. "Instead of sitting here like a bunch of old ladies with their knitting, we should be mounting an attack and rescuing the woman I love."

The king shot to his feet and slammed a meaty fist against the table. "Fool! You would have him kill my daughter in retaliation to save your damnable pride?!"

Gaston's lip curled in disgust. "You're right, your majesty. I beg your pardon. He's no doubt ruined her by now anyway."

Maurice's teeth clenched in rage, his face ruddy with anger. "Leave my sight at once! You are no longer welcome in my council chamber. Guards!"

Sir William, seated to his left shook his head as Gaston was led from the room. "Majesty, he only voiced what many have thought. We have no way to know how our princess fares with the Dark One."

"Which is why I have invited Rumpelstiltskin here to Avonlea. We will show him he is an honored friend of the crown," the king said as he dropped heavily back to his seat at the head of the table. "We can do no less than show him respect for what he's done for our kingdom."

Sir Montesquieu nodded solemnly. "And perhaps he will bring news of our princess. It would give our people hope to know she is well."

Rumpelstiltskin had nearly fallen from the oak beam to land in the center of the table. His thumb rubbed at the bracelet as he thought of placing it on Belle's wrist. Despite the king's determination to offer friendship, he would not risk his little maid … especially with that lummox of a knight still in residence.

A low growl rumbled in his chest at the memory of Belle's betrothed. He would try something, some noble act to rescue his princess, assured of victory because he was good, a hero. Bah! What was that old saying? Ah, yes … pride cometh before the fall.