Maids and Merchandise (Chapter Four-A)
Title: Maids and Merchandise
Author: audreyii_fic
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Rating: PG
Characters: Rumpelstiltskin, Belle, Regina, Cora (Rumbelle)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Warnings: None.
Summary:
Wherein Rumpelstiltskin doesn't modify his deal with Cora, and Belle's responsibilities at the Dark Castle include the girl who will cast the curse to end all curses. (FTL AU. Rumbelle.)
Belle doesn't realize how powerful Regina has become until the morning she tries to serve tea and one of the cups skitters out of her reach.
She frowns at the offending porcelain, wonders if she's seeing things, and then reaches for it again. It scoots back another few inches, just beyond Belle's fingers.
This reeks of a certain sorcerer's devilish sense of humor. "Stop that," she says to Rumpelstiltskin.
Rumpelstiltskin looks up from his omelette -- it's a rare morning wherein there have been no teasing complaints about her cooking, thanks to a stack of recipes that mysteriously turned up in the kitchen a week previous. "Stop what?"
"That." Belle nods at the cup, circling the table to try and capture it from the other side. "If you don't want any tea, you could just say so."
"Of course I want tea, dearie, when do I not?"
"I-- well, I don't know, but--" She leans forward, arm outstretched, and scowls as her quarry skips away once more. "Oh, honestly!"
There's a smothered giggle. Belle turns to Regina, whose entire being has suddenly begun to ooze with angelic innocence. "Are you doing this?" she demands.
"No."
"Then who is, exactly?"
"I don't know," Regina lies. "Maybe the tea set is enchanted and we never noticed!"
Rumpelstiltskin raises an eyebrow, steeples his scaled fingers together, and watches the exchange without comment.
Belle scowls. "This is ridiculous," she grumbles. Quick as she can, she lunges forward--
--and the cup leaps into open air, where it hovers for perhaps half a second before falling to the floor with a clink.
"Oops," says Regina.
Belle sighs, kneels to the carpet, and reaches past the table leg -- only to wince as she grabs ahold of something sharp. "It's chipped," she scolds, feeling about for the missing piece of the now-jagged lip. Perhaps she can glue it back together; but, no, all that is left is shattered slivers to be picked from the carpet fibers.
Regina leans around the side of her chair to look. "You can hardly see it!" she protests.
"Yes, but I am going to cut myself cleaning up."
"Oh. I... I'm sorry." Belle glances up and is surprised to see that, for once, the girl is telling the truth. The apology is sincere. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident."
"It's just a cup." Rumpelstiltskin has been watching Belle on her hands and knees, but now he turns his attention to Regina. "Though it's still broken. You cast another spell without thinking about the price, didn't you."
Regina seems even more woebegone at his words. "I thought it would be funny," she says. Then she brightens, beaming at her master hopefully. "But it worked, didn't it? The spell? The cup did move!"
As she stands there's a moment where Belle believes, truly believes, that Rumpelstiltskin will take a stern, well-deserved disciplinary approach to the situation; but then she sees his thin lips twitch, and she knows she has lost her support. "It did," he tells Regina. "But you've a long way to go, dearie." And, all nonchalance, he waves his hand.
The salt and pepper shakers begin to waltz across the table. The pepper leads; the salt twirls about it gracefully, the cut crystal sparkling with tiny rainbows through every turn and spin. Regina squeals in delight; even Belle cannot help but laugh. The movements are so precise she can't imagine they'd be more graceful with arms and legs.
The shakers dance closer and closer to Regina's plate. She reaches out to touch one--
--and the pepper vaults forward to upend over her omelette.
"There's the price of your magic," says Rumpelstiltskin, giggling as Regina's glee turns to squawks of indignation. "Ah, ah, ah -- no complaining, and no more using petty tricks to pester Belle."
Regina glowers at the now blackened eggs. "You pester her all the time," she mutters.
Belle glances at Rumpelstiltskin, whose expression turns a bit... nervous? "I do nothing of the sort," he says with great dignity.
"What about when you made the feather duster invisible?"
Belle's mouth drops open. "That was you?" she cries, putting her hands on her hips.
"Ah, well--"
"I searched for that duster for two days!"
"You-- yes, but, uh, you shouldn't have forgotten it in my tower to begin with--"
"Two days, Rumpelstiltskin!"
"It did reappear eventually! And I hope you've learned not to leave things where they don't belong, little maid."
Belle plucks the pepper shaker from Regina's side, storms to the opposite end of the table, and dumps it over the Dark One's plate. "There," she says as he gapes at her. "No more using petty tricks to pester Belle."
Rumpelstiltskin continues to gawk for a full minute, then turns back to Regina and points at her accusingly. "You," he declares, "are disloyal."
Regina just smiles and takes a bite of her omelette without so much as a flinch.
***
Unfortunately, Regina's jokes don't stop.
To Belle's profound relief -- for what nearly became of the thief still weighs on her mind -- the endless tricks seem all mischief and no malice. And they are, at least, no longer played directly on Belle... but that is small comfort when she is still the one who has to clean up the messes and otherwise deal with the aftermath.
The imbuement spell is still the girl's favorite. Belle can't convince anyone to drink navy blue milk; Baloo metamorphoses into an alarming shade of pink; and even Rumpelstiltskin sends Regina to bed without supper when he discovers his spinning wheel has turned coral, which Belle has to polish for hours until the natural grain is again visible.
The mice in the dungeon spend six and a half hours the size of barn cats. The strawberries in the garden smell of oysters. All the flour turns to cornmeal. But it's not until Belle discovers the library realphabetized by title instead of author -- a result of Regina's steadily growing literacy -- that she barges into Rumpelstiltskin's laboratory to demand his intervention. "You have to stop teaching her these spells," she announces without preamble. "She's a menace."
Rumpelstiltskin doesn't even look away from his potion. "I've taught her nothing, dearie," he says. "The girl's begun to improvise. Precocious, isn't she?"
"Precocious my foot." Belle isn't sure exactly when she stopped addressing the Dark One as her master and started speaking to him as an... well, not equal, precisely, but without the sort of deference she'd expected to show for the rest of her life. But she has -- and, oddly enough, he doesn't seem to mind. "You're encouraging her."
"It's nothing to fret over. She's bored, that's all."
"What? How can she possibly be bored? Have you seen your library?"
"Yes, yes, but very few ten-year-olds enjoy spending every afternoon with their noses in books."
"I did."
"That's because you're exceptional." Rumpelstiltskin's hands pause over a shimmering bottle for a half-second before continuing, "Children become restless when it's warm, dearie. Take her outside and wear her out; she'll be a different girl, I promise you."
"Wait! Why-- why should I have to do it? Why shouldn't she take a break from whatever taught her to unravel tapestries from five rooms away? I haven't a clue how to repair those, you know!"
"Because my lessons matter far more than yours, and because this is what you're here for. Now do as you're told."
She harrumphs, but when she finds Regina painting her bedroom ceiling two hours later, Belle decides Rumpelstiltskin's advice surely can't make anything worse.
Belle's intention is to move their lessons out of doors, rather than abandon them until such a time as Regina is willing to sit still for anyone other than Rumpelstiltskin again; she has developed a taste for watching a pupil grow and change based on education of her own devising, and is not willing to give it up entirely. So she locates a few tomes on basic horticulture, with the thought of discussing the various flora in the garden. This falls through once Belle realizes that there are no references in her books for bushes that bloom five different types of flowers and that Regina prefers to play in the orchard. Eventually she resigns herself to spending a few hours in the sunshine every day, teaching nothing but also cleaning nothing. If Regina can have a vacation, Belle reasons to herself, surely she can as well.
Then there comes an afternoon wherein Belle is stretched out in the soft grasses -- who would have thought the Dark One in his Dark Castle would have such lovely grounds? Belle wondered sometimes if he'd had a previous caretaker, but found the thought not at all to her liking -- and Regina calls from her perch in an apple tree: "Did you know there's a town?"
Belle looks up. Regina is very high, which had made Belle desperately nervous at first, both for the possibility of Regina injuring herself and the more selfish knowledge that should she break her arm Belle would immediately suffer the same, but the girl has yet to so much as wobble upon a branch. "What town?"
Regina points. They are close to the north wall, and it's clear that from her position and height Regina has an excellent view into the valley. "It's down there. Not far from the road. There's a market and houses." She pauses. "And people."
Oh. Oh, dear. "That sounds lovely," Belle says, choosing her words with care. "But... I'm not sure whether you can--"
"I know. I can't go." There is a sigh that nearly rattles the leaves. "We're to stay here forever."
"Not-- not forever forever, surely." At least not for Regina; Belle holds no illusions that she will ever see outside the castle walls again, but if Regina is to be a great sorceress, Rumpelstiltskin must intend to take her someplace where she can demonstrate her capabilities. Belle tries not to think about what those capabilities will entail. "Just be patient, Lady Regina. You'll see the world."
"When?"
"Well, it's hard to say, but--"
"That means never."
Normally Belle would take Regina to task for pouting, but her voice holds a note of honest melancholy Belle hasn't heard from her before.
She realizes Regina has been looking out of this spot by the north wall for weeks.
"I'll speak to Rumpelstiltskin," Belle hears herself say.
***
It takes Belle three days to work up the nerve to broach the subject, most of which she spends regretting her rash promise. She's not a fool; no good is likely to come of the request. But someone has to ask, and Regina shouldn't have to be the one to do it. And really, if Rumpelstiltskin doesn't like it, he should have been more specific when he first ordered Belle to look after the girl. Such phrasing lends itself to a great deal of interpretation.
She waits until after dinner, when Regina is half-asleep in front of the fire and Rumpelstiltskin is in one of his quieter moods. He has been caught up for over an hour in his spinning, still with focus; basket after basket has spilled over with gold thread, unnoticed and unheeded by its creator.
"Why do you spin so much?" Belle asks, for it seems as good an opening as any.
He doesn't answer, but he pauses just long for her to know he is listening. Encouraged, she continues: "It's just... you've spun more straw into gold than you could ever spend." In addition to drawing him into conversation, she is genuinely curious. She's cleaned nearly a dozen rooms filled with shining bobbins. Even if the Dark One could have need of money, he cannot need so much, can he?
There is still no reply. It occurs to Belle that perhaps this was a more complicated question than she had intended; just as she is about to apologize, he says, quiet and human: "I like to watch the wheel. Helps me forget."
Belle frowns. "Forget what?"
The wheel stops entirely. He tilts his head to the side as if in deep thought -- and then he titters, solemnity vanished in an instant. "I guess it worked!"
This overcomes Belle's standard rule of not encouraging Rumpelstiltskin's quips; she cannot stifle her laugh, even as she shakes her head at the bad joke. It earns her one of the moments of pensive observation she has been receiving more and more frequently. She doesn't mind those; she is pretty sure it means she is confusing him. It is only fair. He confuses her often enough.
"I'd like to learn that," Regina says suddenly. Both adults look at her -- Belle catching her heel on the rug and nearly falling -- and Regina clarifies: "Spinning straw into gold, I mean. Will you teach me?"
In the silence that follows, Belle swears the temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
After a moment Rumpelstiltskin says, oh so quietly: "No. I won't."
His temper hovers around the edge of the room, like the tickling scent of ozone preceding a summer storm; but either Regina does not recognize the sudden change, or she does not heed it. "What kind of magic makes it work? Do you have to think about it, or is it just--"
"No. And if you ask me again, those will be the last words you ever say." The wheel begins to turn again. "Now get out of my sight."
Regina goes off to her chambers, face milk-pale but head held high, as though she were above being injured by her mentor's bullying words. Belle stays behind, seething the whole while; she has many, many things she would like to say, but Rumpelstiltskin is completely ignoring her, so she holds her tongue and bides her time. She will sit here all night if she has to. He will have to acknowledge her sooner or later.
But she only lasts fifteen minutes before she has to make her opinion known. "That was cruel."
"I didn't ask for your input." His spinning doesn't miss a beat. "And I won't be teaching you either, if that's what you're waiting for."
"Of course not. What possible use could I have for gold?"
"None at all, dearie, none at all, unless you'd like to catch a set of earrings in that feather duster you love so much. It would make a charming picture, though." Rumpelstiltskin sets down his spindle and looks at Belle; somehow, without realizing it, she has come to stand directly on the other side of the wheel. "Tell me what you're after, or go away."
Oh, he is not going to take this well. Still, Belle forges ahead; nervous or not, after that display, she is determined to get Regina what she wants. "I was-- I was thinking, perhaps, that you might need something from the town in the valley. Straw, maybe? And that... as your maid, I could, ah, go there, and purchase it. For you."
Rumpelstiltskin is silent for so long, and with such an unfathomable expression, that Belle starts to twist her fingers behind her back. She isn't afraid of him, but that doesn't mean she enjoys hostile conversations, which this is unquestionably about to become.
Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.
Rumpelstiltskin starts to laugh in that high, nasty way of his. "Straw," he repeats mockingly. "Oh, yes, I'm sure fetching straw is all you intend to do."
"It is!" she protests. Then she bites her lower lip, screws up her courage, and adds: "All right, and-- and more, yes. I was thinking I could... take Regina with me."
Something flashes in Rumpelstiltskin's eyes.
"You were right," Belle goes on. "She's restless. But it's-- it isn't just the weather. She's lonely. She's so lonely that she's fascinated by a tiny little village at the bottom of a valley. She wants to see more of the world than a hog farm and a stone castle."
"She will." He grins, all teeth and no humor. "Soon, soon, soon... but not yet."
"I know, and I told her that, but--"
"Oh, you know, do you?" Rumpelstiltskin stands. It astonishes Belle sometimes that he's so slight -- less than half a head taller than her, and she herself is the shortest person she's ever met -- but still projects more coiled danger than the tallest soldiers in the realm. "Then why come to me with this? Who is it that really wants to see the world: her, or you?"
Belle takes a deep breath. "It's true," she confesses, "I did want to see the world. But I understand that that isn't going to-- to work out."
"You're right. It's not. And if this is you trying to break our deal, dearie, I think I should tell you that you're doing a very poor job of it."
"I don't mean to break our deal!"
"Of course. You'll go down to the town and fetch straw." His mouth curls into a sneer. "And where will you go after that, I wonder?"
"Nowhere!"
"Do you think your father will take you in after your association with me? I rather doubt it, little maid. And I imagine you'll expect a rescue when the clerics try to burn you and my apprentice at the stake. You'll be waiting awhile."
"It's only a trip to the village!"
"Oh, no, no, no." He points one clawed finger an inch from her nose. "You will have to do better, dearie; it's been a long time since I've been foolish enough to believe that. It's a lovely escape plan -- or it would be if I didn't know perfectly well that I'd never see you again. Either of you. So just. Stop."
He is working himself into a fine rage, but in that moment it is nothing to Belle's fury. "I am not lying to you," she says, deadly emphasis on each syllable. "I promised that I would go with you forever."
He scoffs. "As though the promise of a woman means anything."
Belle slaps him.
It can't have hurt -- he's the Dark One -- but he slowly raises his hand to his cheek and stares at her in utter disbelief.
Belle takes a moment to compose herself -- she can't remember being so angry in her entire life, not once -- and says: "If you weren't going to accept my word, you should never have made a deal with me in the first place. Good night, Rumpelstiltskin." Then she turns on her heel and leaves the room without a backward glance.
***
In the morning Rumpelstiltskin is gone. A note waits on the table for Regina, warning her that his absence will be no reason for her to skirt her studies, and that he expects her to have finished gathering components for their latest potion when he returns in three days time.
There is not a note for Belle.
This is no-nevermind to her, of course. He is the one in the wrong. He has been rude, and insulting, and unkind, and if he thinks going off in a sulk will earn him an apology, he is entirely mistaken. He has had that slap coming for months and Belle is not in the least bit sorry for it. She works for an absolute beast, and though she will not be breaking her word, there was nothing in their deal that ever said she had to be polite, or even speak to him. Ever again.
"Is something wrong?" Regina asks, peering up at Belle curiously. "You look like something's wrong."
Belle finds a smile, but it feels awkward on her face. "Of-- of course not. I'm rather tired, is all."
"You're probably tired because were crying again last night," the girl observes, taking a bite of porridge. "It was even noisier than usual. I thought you were all finished with being homesick."
"It strikes me at odd times," says Belle.
Regina shrugs, indicating her loss of interest, and begins listing off all the ingredients she'll need to gather. Then she pauses for a few moments, and says: "So... Rumpelstiltskin will be gone for three days?"
"I suppose so. You know how his sense of time can be."
Regina hums off-handedly, which is more than enough to make Belle suspicious. "Regina?"
"Lady Regina." The girl hops up from the table. "I am going to do some spell practicing today. I'll see you at dinner, maid."
Oh, yes. Belle is suspicious. But Regina is good as the gold by the spinning wheel for the next two days, and leaves Belle with not a single action to reprimand. This, rather than lulling her into reassurance, only makes her more certain that the girl is plotting something.
She's nearly relieved to have her skepticism confirmed that second night, when she hears Regina creeping down the hallway shortly after the clock strikes ten. In her chambers, not yet undressed, she puts aside her book and considers simply opening the door and ordering Regina back to bed; but her curiosity gets the better of her. She winds up following the oblivious girl -- trying so hard to hide in a dark cloak -- down the stairs, out the door, and across the castle grounds beneath a glowing moon in a cloudless sky.
It isn't until Regina reaches a small gate concealed within the stone of the north wall that Belle speaks up. "What do you think you're doing?" she asks, arms crossed.
Regina jumps, then pushes her hood back. Her expression is unconcerned and not the slightest bit guilty. "Opening the door," she explains, as though she's doing nothing more than buttering toast. She makes a complicated gesture; a small wave of purple smoke penetrates the stone, and the hidden door opens with a click. "These locks are flimsy."
"I don't think Rumpelstiltskin would want you to do that."
Five months ago, the mere suggestion of the Dark One's disapproval would have stopped Regina in her tracks. It does give her a moment of pause, and her eyes flick up to the laboratory tower -- but then a slow, conspiratorial smile spreads across her face. "I know," she whispers to Belle, "but he's not here."
Regina is growing up, Belle realizes, and it is not going to be a pleasant process.
"I'm not going for very long," Regina promises, eyes wide, laying on a not-inconsiderable charm. "I'm not running away. But all those people, they've been setting up for a-- a party, or a festival, I'm not sure, but I've seen them. There's a pole and a bonfire and wagons came in-- oh, please, Belle, can't I go? Just for a little while?"
"Rumpelstiltskin said no." The girl's face falls, and Belle adds soothingly, "I understand. I do. I'm curious about the village too, but--"
Regina starts to smile.
Belle can see the thought form in her head before she even voices it. "No," she says firmly. "No, I am not going with you."
"But you just said you were curious!"
"That isn't what I--"
"And aren't you supposed to keep an eye on me?"
"Why do the two of you never--"
"That means you're not even breaking the rules!"
"Regina--"
But Regina folds her arms mutinously. "I'm going no matter what," she announces, "and you can't stop me. Besides, why should you stop me, anyway? Why shouldn't we get to go?"
Belle looks at the set of the girl's shoulders, then at the open gate door.
Regina has a point.
And if Rumpelstiltskin didn't want to trust the word of a woman anyway, well, perhaps he should give them more reason to trust him.
Belle says: "You are going to be in bed by the stroke of midnight, do you understand?"
The words are barely out before Regina runs through the gate.
Their trip down the valley involves a steep, rocky path, overgrown by thorns and featuring nine or ten different places to fall and break one's neck, but Regina and Belle walk along it as easily as a paved market street. When Belle asks Regina if she's enchanting their steps, Regina only looks at the sky and comments on how lovely and bright the moon is. All Belle can do is sigh, be silently grateful for the easy passage, and hope that the price for Regina's magic this evening won't be too high.
The path ends abruptly at a rickety wooden bridge over a stream running down the mountain; beyond is the hamlet proper, about the size of one of Avonlea's poor provincial towns that were demolished early by the wars. A little main square with a wide stone fountain, a handful of shops, a few houses in the darkness beyond; it can't be home to more than forty or fifty villagers, but the square is filled with twice those numbers: an enormous bonfire, and fiddlers, and dancers, and traveling merchants hocking wares, all mixed in with a crowd of peasants steadily working their way towards inebriation. The people are packed in tightly, and the noise is impressive, especially compared to the near silent lives they've been living.
Even in the darkness Belle can see that Regina's face has turned a pasty white. Belle hesitates, then touches her shoulder; the girl leaps nearly a foot in the air. "I'm not frightened," she says at once.
"I never said you were."
"But you were thinking it, weren't you? I know you were, but I'm not. I'm not frightened at all. They-- they are just peasants. Sorceresses aren't frightened of peasants. Rumpelstiltskin isn't frightened of peasants."
Belle glances about nervously, but no one is close to the bridge. "Regina--"
"Lady Regina."
"Lady Regina, I think we had best not say his name. Not unless you want to call him." Or, for that matter, Belle thought, announce who they were to the whole of the village. Belle couldn't imagine that the maid and apprentice of the Dark One would be allowed to mingle freely amongst a small solstice festival.
"All right. But I'm not frightened."
Belle takes in the girl's trembling lip and stiff spine. She holds out her hand. "I'm a bit frightened," she says mildly. "I always am when I meet new people, especially so very many of them."
Regina's gaze darts from Belle's face to her outstretched arm, then back again. She swallows visibly before she declares: "Well then, if-- if would make you feel braver to hold my hand, you may." Then she grabs Belle's fingers and grips them so fiercely Belle suspects she may sport bruises come morning.
"Thank you," says Belle, hiding a smile. "I feel much better now."
***
Next: Wherein everyone pretends to be ordinary.
Author: audreyii_fic
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Rating: PG
Characters: Rumpelstiltskin, Belle, Regina, Cora (Rumbelle)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Warnings: None.
Summary:
Wherein Rumpelstiltskin doesn't modify his deal with Cora, and Belle's responsibilities at the Dark Castle include the girl who will cast the curse to end all curses. (FTL AU. Rumbelle.)
Belle doesn't realize how powerful Regina has become until the morning she tries to serve tea and one of the cups skitters out of her reach.
She frowns at the offending porcelain, wonders if she's seeing things, and then reaches for it again. It scoots back another few inches, just beyond Belle's fingers.
This reeks of a certain sorcerer's devilish sense of humor. "Stop that," she says to Rumpelstiltskin.
Rumpelstiltskin looks up from his omelette -- it's a rare morning wherein there have been no teasing complaints about her cooking, thanks to a stack of recipes that mysteriously turned up in the kitchen a week previous. "Stop what?"
"That." Belle nods at the cup, circling the table to try and capture it from the other side. "If you don't want any tea, you could just say so."
"Of course I want tea, dearie, when do I not?"
"I-- well, I don't know, but--" She leans forward, arm outstretched, and scowls as her quarry skips away once more. "Oh, honestly!"
There's a smothered giggle. Belle turns to Regina, whose entire being has suddenly begun to ooze with angelic innocence. "Are you doing this?" she demands.
"No."
"Then who is, exactly?"
"I don't know," Regina lies. "Maybe the tea set is enchanted and we never noticed!"
Rumpelstiltskin raises an eyebrow, steeples his scaled fingers together, and watches the exchange without comment.
Belle scowls. "This is ridiculous," she grumbles. Quick as she can, she lunges forward--
--and the cup leaps into open air, where it hovers for perhaps half a second before falling to the floor with a clink.
"Oops," says Regina.
Belle sighs, kneels to the carpet, and reaches past the table leg -- only to wince as she grabs ahold of something sharp. "It's chipped," she scolds, feeling about for the missing piece of the now-jagged lip. Perhaps she can glue it back together; but, no, all that is left is shattered slivers to be picked from the carpet fibers.
Regina leans around the side of her chair to look. "You can hardly see it!" she protests.
"Yes, but I am going to cut myself cleaning up."
"Oh. I... I'm sorry." Belle glances up and is surprised to see that, for once, the girl is telling the truth. The apology is sincere. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident."
"It's just a cup." Rumpelstiltskin has been watching Belle on her hands and knees, but now he turns his attention to Regina. "Though it's still broken. You cast another spell without thinking about the price, didn't you."
Regina seems even more woebegone at his words. "I thought it would be funny," she says. Then she brightens, beaming at her master hopefully. "But it worked, didn't it? The spell? The cup did move!"
As she stands there's a moment where Belle believes, truly believes, that Rumpelstiltskin will take a stern, well-deserved disciplinary approach to the situation; but then she sees his thin lips twitch, and she knows she has lost her support. "It did," he tells Regina. "But you've a long way to go, dearie." And, all nonchalance, he waves his hand.
The salt and pepper shakers begin to waltz across the table. The pepper leads; the salt twirls about it gracefully, the cut crystal sparkling with tiny rainbows through every turn and spin. Regina squeals in delight; even Belle cannot help but laugh. The movements are so precise she can't imagine they'd be more graceful with arms and legs.
The shakers dance closer and closer to Regina's plate. She reaches out to touch one--
--and the pepper vaults forward to upend over her omelette.
"There's the price of your magic," says Rumpelstiltskin, giggling as Regina's glee turns to squawks of indignation. "Ah, ah, ah -- no complaining, and no more using petty tricks to pester Belle."
Regina glowers at the now blackened eggs. "You pester her all the time," she mutters.
Belle glances at Rumpelstiltskin, whose expression turns a bit... nervous? "I do nothing of the sort," he says with great dignity.
"What about when you made the feather duster invisible?"
Belle's mouth drops open. "That was you?" she cries, putting her hands on her hips.
"Ah, well--"
"I searched for that duster for two days!"
"You-- yes, but, uh, you shouldn't have forgotten it in my tower to begin with--"
"Two days, Rumpelstiltskin!"
"It did reappear eventually! And I hope you've learned not to leave things where they don't belong, little maid."
Belle plucks the pepper shaker from Regina's side, storms to the opposite end of the table, and dumps it over the Dark One's plate. "There," she says as he gapes at her. "No more using petty tricks to pester Belle."
Rumpelstiltskin continues to gawk for a full minute, then turns back to Regina and points at her accusingly. "You," he declares, "are disloyal."
Regina just smiles and takes a bite of her omelette without so much as a flinch.
***
Unfortunately, Regina's jokes don't stop.
To Belle's profound relief -- for what nearly became of the thief still weighs on her mind -- the endless tricks seem all mischief and no malice. And they are, at least, no longer played directly on Belle... but that is small comfort when she is still the one who has to clean up the messes and otherwise deal with the aftermath.
The imbuement spell is still the girl's favorite. Belle can't convince anyone to drink navy blue milk; Baloo metamorphoses into an alarming shade of pink; and even Rumpelstiltskin sends Regina to bed without supper when he discovers his spinning wheel has turned coral, which Belle has to polish for hours until the natural grain is again visible.
The mice in the dungeon spend six and a half hours the size of barn cats. The strawberries in the garden smell of oysters. All the flour turns to cornmeal. But it's not until Belle discovers the library realphabetized by title instead of author -- a result of Regina's steadily growing literacy -- that she barges into Rumpelstiltskin's laboratory to demand his intervention. "You have to stop teaching her these spells," she announces without preamble. "She's a menace."
Rumpelstiltskin doesn't even look away from his potion. "I've taught her nothing, dearie," he says. "The girl's begun to improvise. Precocious, isn't she?"
"Precocious my foot." Belle isn't sure exactly when she stopped addressing the Dark One as her master and started speaking to him as an... well, not equal, precisely, but without the sort of deference she'd expected to show for the rest of her life. But she has -- and, oddly enough, he doesn't seem to mind. "You're encouraging her."
"It's nothing to fret over. She's bored, that's all."
"What? How can she possibly be bored? Have you seen your library?"
"Yes, yes, but very few ten-year-olds enjoy spending every afternoon with their noses in books."
"I did."
"That's because you're exceptional." Rumpelstiltskin's hands pause over a shimmering bottle for a half-second before continuing, "Children become restless when it's warm, dearie. Take her outside and wear her out; she'll be a different girl, I promise you."
"Wait! Why-- why should I have to do it? Why shouldn't she take a break from whatever taught her to unravel tapestries from five rooms away? I haven't a clue how to repair those, you know!"
"Because my lessons matter far more than yours, and because this is what you're here for. Now do as you're told."
She harrumphs, but when she finds Regina painting her bedroom ceiling two hours later, Belle decides Rumpelstiltskin's advice surely can't make anything worse.
Belle's intention is to move their lessons out of doors, rather than abandon them until such a time as Regina is willing to sit still for anyone other than Rumpelstiltskin again; she has developed a taste for watching a pupil grow and change based on education of her own devising, and is not willing to give it up entirely. So she locates a few tomes on basic horticulture, with the thought of discussing the various flora in the garden. This falls through once Belle realizes that there are no references in her books for bushes that bloom five different types of flowers and that Regina prefers to play in the orchard. Eventually she resigns herself to spending a few hours in the sunshine every day, teaching nothing but also cleaning nothing. If Regina can have a vacation, Belle reasons to herself, surely she can as well.
Then there comes an afternoon wherein Belle is stretched out in the soft grasses -- who would have thought the Dark One in his Dark Castle would have such lovely grounds? Belle wondered sometimes if he'd had a previous caretaker, but found the thought not at all to her liking -- and Regina calls from her perch in an apple tree: "Did you know there's a town?"
Belle looks up. Regina is very high, which had made Belle desperately nervous at first, both for the possibility of Regina injuring herself and the more selfish knowledge that should she break her arm Belle would immediately suffer the same, but the girl has yet to so much as wobble upon a branch. "What town?"
Regina points. They are close to the north wall, and it's clear that from her position and height Regina has an excellent view into the valley. "It's down there. Not far from the road. There's a market and houses." She pauses. "And people."
Oh. Oh, dear. "That sounds lovely," Belle says, choosing her words with care. "But... I'm not sure whether you can--"
"I know. I can't go." There is a sigh that nearly rattles the leaves. "We're to stay here forever."
"Not-- not forever forever, surely." At least not for Regina; Belle holds no illusions that she will ever see outside the castle walls again, but if Regina is to be a great sorceress, Rumpelstiltskin must intend to take her someplace where she can demonstrate her capabilities. Belle tries not to think about what those capabilities will entail. "Just be patient, Lady Regina. You'll see the world."
"When?"
"Well, it's hard to say, but--"
"That means never."
Normally Belle would take Regina to task for pouting, but her voice holds a note of honest melancholy Belle hasn't heard from her before.
She realizes Regina has been looking out of this spot by the north wall for weeks.
"I'll speak to Rumpelstiltskin," Belle hears herself say.
***
It takes Belle three days to work up the nerve to broach the subject, most of which she spends regretting her rash promise. She's not a fool; no good is likely to come of the request. But someone has to ask, and Regina shouldn't have to be the one to do it. And really, if Rumpelstiltskin doesn't like it, he should have been more specific when he first ordered Belle to look after the girl. Such phrasing lends itself to a great deal of interpretation.
She waits until after dinner, when Regina is half-asleep in front of the fire and Rumpelstiltskin is in one of his quieter moods. He has been caught up for over an hour in his spinning, still with focus; basket after basket has spilled over with gold thread, unnoticed and unheeded by its creator.
"Why do you spin so much?" Belle asks, for it seems as good an opening as any.
He doesn't answer, but he pauses just long for her to know he is listening. Encouraged, she continues: "It's just... you've spun more straw into gold than you could ever spend." In addition to drawing him into conversation, she is genuinely curious. She's cleaned nearly a dozen rooms filled with shining bobbins. Even if the Dark One could have need of money, he cannot need so much, can he?
There is still no reply. It occurs to Belle that perhaps this was a more complicated question than she had intended; just as she is about to apologize, he says, quiet and human: "I like to watch the wheel. Helps me forget."
Belle frowns. "Forget what?"
The wheel stops entirely. He tilts his head to the side as if in deep thought -- and then he titters, solemnity vanished in an instant. "I guess it worked!"
This overcomes Belle's standard rule of not encouraging Rumpelstiltskin's quips; she cannot stifle her laugh, even as she shakes her head at the bad joke. It earns her one of the moments of pensive observation she has been receiving more and more frequently. She doesn't mind those; she is pretty sure it means she is confusing him. It is only fair. He confuses her often enough.
"I'd like to learn that," Regina says suddenly. Both adults look at her -- Belle catching her heel on the rug and nearly falling -- and Regina clarifies: "Spinning straw into gold, I mean. Will you teach me?"
In the silence that follows, Belle swears the temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
After a moment Rumpelstiltskin says, oh so quietly: "No. I won't."
His temper hovers around the edge of the room, like the tickling scent of ozone preceding a summer storm; but either Regina does not recognize the sudden change, or she does not heed it. "What kind of magic makes it work? Do you have to think about it, or is it just--"
"No. And if you ask me again, those will be the last words you ever say." The wheel begins to turn again. "Now get out of my sight."
Regina goes off to her chambers, face milk-pale but head held high, as though she were above being injured by her mentor's bullying words. Belle stays behind, seething the whole while; she has many, many things she would like to say, but Rumpelstiltskin is completely ignoring her, so she holds her tongue and bides her time. She will sit here all night if she has to. He will have to acknowledge her sooner or later.
But she only lasts fifteen minutes before she has to make her opinion known. "That was cruel."
"I didn't ask for your input." His spinning doesn't miss a beat. "And I won't be teaching you either, if that's what you're waiting for."
"Of course not. What possible use could I have for gold?"
"None at all, dearie, none at all, unless you'd like to catch a set of earrings in that feather duster you love so much. It would make a charming picture, though." Rumpelstiltskin sets down his spindle and looks at Belle; somehow, without realizing it, she has come to stand directly on the other side of the wheel. "Tell me what you're after, or go away."
Oh, he is not going to take this well. Still, Belle forges ahead; nervous or not, after that display, she is determined to get Regina what she wants. "I was-- I was thinking, perhaps, that you might need something from the town in the valley. Straw, maybe? And that... as your maid, I could, ah, go there, and purchase it. For you."
Rumpelstiltskin is silent for so long, and with such an unfathomable expression, that Belle starts to twist her fingers behind her back. She isn't afraid of him, but that doesn't mean she enjoys hostile conversations, which this is unquestionably about to become.
Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.
Rumpelstiltskin starts to laugh in that high, nasty way of his. "Straw," he repeats mockingly. "Oh, yes, I'm sure fetching straw is all you intend to do."
"It is!" she protests. Then she bites her lower lip, screws up her courage, and adds: "All right, and-- and more, yes. I was thinking I could... take Regina with me."
Something flashes in Rumpelstiltskin's eyes.
"You were right," Belle goes on. "She's restless. But it's-- it isn't just the weather. She's lonely. She's so lonely that she's fascinated by a tiny little village at the bottom of a valley. She wants to see more of the world than a hog farm and a stone castle."
"She will." He grins, all teeth and no humor. "Soon, soon, soon... but not yet."
"I know, and I told her that, but--"
"Oh, you know, do you?" Rumpelstiltskin stands. It astonishes Belle sometimes that he's so slight -- less than half a head taller than her, and she herself is the shortest person she's ever met -- but still projects more coiled danger than the tallest soldiers in the realm. "Then why come to me with this? Who is it that really wants to see the world: her, or you?"
Belle takes a deep breath. "It's true," she confesses, "I did want to see the world. But I understand that that isn't going to-- to work out."
"You're right. It's not. And if this is you trying to break our deal, dearie, I think I should tell you that you're doing a very poor job of it."
"I don't mean to break our deal!"
"Of course. You'll go down to the town and fetch straw." His mouth curls into a sneer. "And where will you go after that, I wonder?"
"Nowhere!"
"Do you think your father will take you in after your association with me? I rather doubt it, little maid. And I imagine you'll expect a rescue when the clerics try to burn you and my apprentice at the stake. You'll be waiting awhile."
"It's only a trip to the village!"
"Oh, no, no, no." He points one clawed finger an inch from her nose. "You will have to do better, dearie; it's been a long time since I've been foolish enough to believe that. It's a lovely escape plan -- or it would be if I didn't know perfectly well that I'd never see you again. Either of you. So just. Stop."
He is working himself into a fine rage, but in that moment it is nothing to Belle's fury. "I am not lying to you," she says, deadly emphasis on each syllable. "I promised that I would go with you forever."
He scoffs. "As though the promise of a woman means anything."
Belle slaps him.
It can't have hurt -- he's the Dark One -- but he slowly raises his hand to his cheek and stares at her in utter disbelief.
Belle takes a moment to compose herself -- she can't remember being so angry in her entire life, not once -- and says: "If you weren't going to accept my word, you should never have made a deal with me in the first place. Good night, Rumpelstiltskin." Then she turns on her heel and leaves the room without a backward glance.
***
In the morning Rumpelstiltskin is gone. A note waits on the table for Regina, warning her that his absence will be no reason for her to skirt her studies, and that he expects her to have finished gathering components for their latest potion when he returns in three days time.
There is not a note for Belle.
This is no-nevermind to her, of course. He is the one in the wrong. He has been rude, and insulting, and unkind, and if he thinks going off in a sulk will earn him an apology, he is entirely mistaken. He has had that slap coming for months and Belle is not in the least bit sorry for it. She works for an absolute beast, and though she will not be breaking her word, there was nothing in their deal that ever said she had to be polite, or even speak to him. Ever again.
"Is something wrong?" Regina asks, peering up at Belle curiously. "You look like something's wrong."
Belle finds a smile, but it feels awkward on her face. "Of-- of course not. I'm rather tired, is all."
"You're probably tired because were crying again last night," the girl observes, taking a bite of porridge. "It was even noisier than usual. I thought you were all finished with being homesick."
"It strikes me at odd times," says Belle.
Regina shrugs, indicating her loss of interest, and begins listing off all the ingredients she'll need to gather. Then she pauses for a few moments, and says: "So... Rumpelstiltskin will be gone for three days?"
"I suppose so. You know how his sense of time can be."
Regina hums off-handedly, which is more than enough to make Belle suspicious. "Regina?"
"Lady Regina." The girl hops up from the table. "I am going to do some spell practicing today. I'll see you at dinner, maid."
Oh, yes. Belle is suspicious. But Regina is good as the gold by the spinning wheel for the next two days, and leaves Belle with not a single action to reprimand. This, rather than lulling her into reassurance, only makes her more certain that the girl is plotting something.
She's nearly relieved to have her skepticism confirmed that second night, when she hears Regina creeping down the hallway shortly after the clock strikes ten. In her chambers, not yet undressed, she puts aside her book and considers simply opening the door and ordering Regina back to bed; but her curiosity gets the better of her. She winds up following the oblivious girl -- trying so hard to hide in a dark cloak -- down the stairs, out the door, and across the castle grounds beneath a glowing moon in a cloudless sky.
It isn't until Regina reaches a small gate concealed within the stone of the north wall that Belle speaks up. "What do you think you're doing?" she asks, arms crossed.
Regina jumps, then pushes her hood back. Her expression is unconcerned and not the slightest bit guilty. "Opening the door," she explains, as though she's doing nothing more than buttering toast. She makes a complicated gesture; a small wave of purple smoke penetrates the stone, and the hidden door opens with a click. "These locks are flimsy."
"I don't think Rumpelstiltskin would want you to do that."
Five months ago, the mere suggestion of the Dark One's disapproval would have stopped Regina in her tracks. It does give her a moment of pause, and her eyes flick up to the laboratory tower -- but then a slow, conspiratorial smile spreads across her face. "I know," she whispers to Belle, "but he's not here."
Regina is growing up, Belle realizes, and it is not going to be a pleasant process.
"I'm not going for very long," Regina promises, eyes wide, laying on a not-inconsiderable charm. "I'm not running away. But all those people, they've been setting up for a-- a party, or a festival, I'm not sure, but I've seen them. There's a pole and a bonfire and wagons came in-- oh, please, Belle, can't I go? Just for a little while?"
"Rumpelstiltskin said no." The girl's face falls, and Belle adds soothingly, "I understand. I do. I'm curious about the village too, but--"
Regina starts to smile.
Belle can see the thought form in her head before she even voices it. "No," she says firmly. "No, I am not going with you."
"But you just said you were curious!"
"That isn't what I--"
"And aren't you supposed to keep an eye on me?"
"Why do the two of you never--"
"That means you're not even breaking the rules!"
"Regina--"
But Regina folds her arms mutinously. "I'm going no matter what," she announces, "and you can't stop me. Besides, why should you stop me, anyway? Why shouldn't we get to go?"
Belle looks at the set of the girl's shoulders, then at the open gate door.
Regina has a point.
And if Rumpelstiltskin didn't want to trust the word of a woman anyway, well, perhaps he should give them more reason to trust him.
Belle says: "You are going to be in bed by the stroke of midnight, do you understand?"
The words are barely out before Regina runs through the gate.
Their trip down the valley involves a steep, rocky path, overgrown by thorns and featuring nine or ten different places to fall and break one's neck, but Regina and Belle walk along it as easily as a paved market street. When Belle asks Regina if she's enchanting their steps, Regina only looks at the sky and comments on how lovely and bright the moon is. All Belle can do is sigh, be silently grateful for the easy passage, and hope that the price for Regina's magic this evening won't be too high.
The path ends abruptly at a rickety wooden bridge over a stream running down the mountain; beyond is the hamlet proper, about the size of one of Avonlea's poor provincial towns that were demolished early by the wars. A little main square with a wide stone fountain, a handful of shops, a few houses in the darkness beyond; it can't be home to more than forty or fifty villagers, but the square is filled with twice those numbers: an enormous bonfire, and fiddlers, and dancers, and traveling merchants hocking wares, all mixed in with a crowd of peasants steadily working their way towards inebriation. The people are packed in tightly, and the noise is impressive, especially compared to the near silent lives they've been living.
Even in the darkness Belle can see that Regina's face has turned a pasty white. Belle hesitates, then touches her shoulder; the girl leaps nearly a foot in the air. "I'm not frightened," she says at once.
"I never said you were."
"But you were thinking it, weren't you? I know you were, but I'm not. I'm not frightened at all. They-- they are just peasants. Sorceresses aren't frightened of peasants. Rumpelstiltskin isn't frightened of peasants."
Belle glances about nervously, but no one is close to the bridge. "Regina--"
"Lady Regina."
"Lady Regina, I think we had best not say his name. Not unless you want to call him." Or, for that matter, Belle thought, announce who they were to the whole of the village. Belle couldn't imagine that the maid and apprentice of the Dark One would be allowed to mingle freely amongst a small solstice festival.
"All right. But I'm not frightened."
Belle takes in the girl's trembling lip and stiff spine. She holds out her hand. "I'm a bit frightened," she says mildly. "I always am when I meet new people, especially so very many of them."
Regina's gaze darts from Belle's face to her outstretched arm, then back again. She swallows visibly before she declares: "Well then, if-- if would make you feel braver to hold my hand, you may." Then she grabs Belle's fingers and grips them so fiercely Belle suspects she may sport bruises come morning.
"Thank you," says Belle, hiding a smile. "I feel much better now."
***
Next: Wherein everyone pretends to be ordinary.