Once Upon a Time Fic: Far Beneath the Bitter Snow -- Ch. 2
Far Beneath the Bitter Snow
Summary: What if Belle had refused to leave Rumpel’s castle, knowing she’d be rejected at home?
A/N: Enjoy! :)
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Link to previous chapters: Prologue and Chapter 1
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Chapter 2:
He was pleased to see that Belle was already in the dining hall when he came in the next morning, dusting the various collectibles on the shelves. A covered plate was positioned at the head of the table, and a fire was roaring, licking the bottom end of the chimney with its flames, yet, it wasn’t even light outside. How long had she been up?
When she heard him come in, she hurried over and greeted Rumpelstiltskin with a nod and a courteous smile. “Your breakfast, sir,” she said like a true servant, placing her hand on the lid of the plate until he took his seat. Then she opened it to reveal a pan-seared steak, fried eggs, cut-up fresh fruit…and a piece of her bread with butter.
“Beautiful,” he commented, his gaze wandering from his plate to her face.
Blushing at the unexpected attention, Belle quickly curtsied and started for the door. Without admitting it, she was running from her feelings this time, away from him and his infectious sense of humor and the kind eyes he tried to hide behind the love of his power.
He hadn’t meant his simple comment as a test, but her reaction had been useful. Perhaps there was a way to prove her sincerity, by merely pretending to be interested in her. “Uh, have you eaten?” Rumpelstiltskin asked before she could get too far away.
“Yes,” she answered quickly over her shoulder. “Earlier, in the kitchen. I have chores to do.” And then she was gone. He could only assume she was taking this agreement to remain merely as his servant very seriously, though, he didn’t feel he’d won that round.
She appeared again an hour or so later, quietly slipping in to clear his dishes while he was spinning. She was so quiet, in fact, that he almost missed seeing her completely, since he was so wrapped up in his task. He opened his mouth to speak, just as he caught sight of the swaying of her skirt as she passed through the doors and they closed behind her. Another opportunity was missed, but that couldn’t be what produced the feeling of emptiness from her absence.
Sighing, Rumpelstiltskin went back to his task, hoping that it would get easier as the days passed. Belle rarely spent any time in the dining hall with him the way she had before, keeping herself busy in the other parts of the house. He didn’t understand why he even cared; he’d been alone for years in his echoing castle, and his aloneness hadn’t bothered him then. Why now?
There had been several occasions where his path had crossed hers, and he thought it had felt awkward and unusual. What was it about her that made him uncomfortable in his own home? More than once after those first few days, he’d avoided running into her when he saw her coming toward him. He’d stop and linger behind a column or duck in an adjacent hallway until she passed. In those moments, he’d watch how she moved, her gracefulness and hard-working effort she put into every task. She cleaned windows and banisters and cobwebs out of dark corners, even getting down on her knees to scrub a little bit of the floor each day with a bucket of soapy water and a rag. Rumpelstiltskin could only watch in amazement, and over time, as he learned her rigorous schedule, he found that he would purposely be in a position where he could see her. He would never admit it, however. He was just making sure she was doing her job.
One particular day, when she’d dedicated her time to laundry, their paths unexpectedly crossed, and he was too lost in thought to stop it. He’d been so wrapped up devising a plan to find a certain fairy godmother that he literally bumped into Belle on the landing of the stairs. After apologies for the bumble, they started off on their separate ways, his thoughts again focused on the fairy godmother and her powerful wand he wanted to acquire.
“Rumpelstiltskin?” she said hesitantly, snapping him back to the present. He had to clear his mind to stop and give her his attention. For a moment, he was struck by the sight of her standing above him on the landing in front of the windows with the light surrounding her thin but shapely frame.
She held out the basket she was carrying. “Y-your clothes. What should I do with them? Normally I would put them away for you, but since I’m not allowed in your room--”
“Oh,” he mouthed, walking back up the handful of steps he’d descended. “I’ll take them.” He reached out his hands to take the basket from her, but she held it fast.
“Um, my things are in here too.”
Rumpelstiltskin’s gaze met hers. Something about the way she’d said it made it sound so intimate, having just their clean clothes folded in the same basket, side-by-side. He felt warmed by the idea, but he’d been on his way out. There was a king who knew of this fairy godmother and might be willing to bargain with him again now that he’d lost the son the imp had given him thirty years prior. “I tell you what,” he decided, believing that it would be faster and would take care of her problem if he dealt with it before his trip. Though he’d relocated the dagger, he still wanted her to keep out of the west wing. “I’ll accompany you to the bedroom to put them away, and then you may take the basket back to your own room.”
She concurred, “A man shouldn’t have to do woman’s work, anyway.”
He took a moment to mull over the fact that she’d again called him a man, but then with a nod, he started up the next section of stairs to the second floor, all the way to his room, with her a few paces behind him.
Belle had, of course, been in there before, but only alone to clean. Rumpelstiltskin had never joined her in the room until now, and it was a little disconcerting, considering her feelings for him. But she wouldn’t be distracted, she decided, getting down to the business of putting away his shirts and pants and other items. Some things had to be hung in his wardrobe while others were tucked into the drawers of the chest on the north wall. He perched in a chair on the opposite side of the room to watch her, leaning way back in the chair, with his fingers steepled in front of him, the way he often did. His eyes on her every move made Belle slightly nervous. She talked to him to rid her of the nerves, asking about the age of the castle and how long he’d lived there.
“Oh, about a decade now, though the castle is quite old. I got it as part of a deal,” his voice sang as he looked around at the decorative crown-molding, as if admiring his own acquisition.
Belle snickered. “Of course.” She moved from the closet to put a nightshirt in a drawer. “Have you always…made deals? I mean, since you got your…power?”
“I find it suits everyone involved, yes,” he said thoughtfully, sitting so still as he spoke that, were it not for the movement of his lips, he could pass for a statue. “Most people are willing to give up even the most precious of things in exchange for finding their dreams or saving their lives…”
“And that’s what you’re seeking to acquire from people? Their most precious things?” She closed the drawer and went back to the basket for another item. She could’ve organized the clothes a bit better to make the time pass quicker, but she didn’t, enjoying having the opportunity to question him a little.
“I like to have precious things, too, dearie.”
Belle’s breath caught in her throat as her hands stilled and she stared up at him. Did that include her? “Like me?” she couldn’t stop her lips from asking.
He took a moment to reply softly, “Yes.”
Picking up the last of his stack, she held the articles in her hands. “Did you intend for me to only be your servant forever? Or was there…more?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, his voice sounding more and more like the man she’d only seen for a moment, those seconds after their kiss. His voice returned to its squeaky pitch. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, I guess.”
Belle nodded and put the last two things in his drawer, shutting it and picking up the basket. “I’m finished.” She started for the door.
“Good,” Rumpelstiltskin commented as he stood and she passed him. “Oh,” he snapped his fingers. “Don’t bother with dinner for me this evening. I have to go out again.”
Belle stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “But…you’ll be back.”
“Yes,” he replied, holding out the vowel for a long moment, finding it disconcerting that she still found the need to play the game of pretending she was interested in spending time with him. How long must this charade go on? Didn’t she realize that he no longer believed the lies intended to rid him of his power? Surely the queen coached her on just what to say and do to make him succumb to her wiles…
She finally spoke again. “I’ll…see you tomorrow, then.”
- - - - - - - - - - -
Belle’s mocking innocence and sweetness was still with him as he went through his day. First stop was to meet with King George and, with the loss of his precious son, James, help him through yet another trial. Apparently, he’d promised his son would slay a dragon for another king to save his own kingdom, only James died tragically right after sealing the deal with Midas. King George wanted his son back, but resurrections weren’t possible by magic. Fortunately for him, when he’d bartered for his son some thirty years before, Rumpelstiltskin had found a man with identical twin sons willing to give up one for a need of his own to be met in return, and the deal was struck. Now that James was dead, his twin would be the only solution to King George’s conundrum.
Since King George couldn’t be seen talking to the commoner identical to his son, lest it get back to Midas, he had sent Rumpelstiltskin in his place to finalize the deal, promising the boy’s mother in exchange that she would be well taken care of for the rest of her life. Considering their lack of wealth, it seemed like the perfect bargain; however, had it been his, Rumpelstiltskin would’ve asked for a bit more than just to borrow the shepherd for a few days as the king had requested.
While he waited as the mother explained to her son how he’d never known about a twin brother, Rumpelstiltskin’s mind wandered to Belle and what she was doing at that very moment. It was a Thursday, so it was likely she was in the library again, dusting books and shelves and putting it all back in right order. She’d follow that up by choosing a book to read and sitting in the garden or by the pond or-- Why was he thinking of her again? It seemed like every time he stopped to take a breath, she was in his mind and heart. He had to clear them, to purge those bright blue eyes from his memory, to forget to what it was like to love and be loved, even momentarily, and to scrub the taste of her lips from his.
He pulled out his flask and took a sip, hoping the strong liquor would sting his tongue and burn her from his heart. Business, he thought, stick to business. He focused his attention then on what the mother and son were discussing, following their words by letting the memories of that thirty-year-old bargain replay in his mind. It was definitely better than allowing Belle run his thoughts. Putting others in a difficult spot and having them make painful decisions was far better than feeling the results of his own.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Belle was awake and worried for the first part of the night, when a huge lightning storm appeared to be brewing to the north. She wasn’t sure which way Rumpelstiltskin had traveled since she hadn’t seen him leave, and she knew he must have some kind of supernatural way of transporting from one place to another, but still, she couldn’t sleep. She thought he’d have been home hours earlier. With each rumble of thunder, her heart beat a little faster. Finally, she gave up on trying altogether and sat up in the library’s window seat with her favorite book. She tried to read, but found that she was too involved with watching down the road leading up to their castle for movement.
She never saw him come home. At one point, her head felt so tired and heavy that she succumbed to the weight of it, letting it fall to rest on her upturned knees where she slept fitfully, worriedly. She stirred only slightly when she felt she was being moved, but mostly she was dreaming of long days and nights alone, with only the daunting silence as company.
When she awoke the next morning in her own bed, Belle had to take a moment to straighten out her own thoughts. She knew she hadn’t made it to her room, and now the vague memory of being moved made sense. He had carried her to her bed. The thought sent the blood rushing to her face and little butterflies to her stomach. She hadn’t even been wearing her robe; even if her nightgown was modest, she’d still be in a state of undress, making his gesture of kindness all the more intimate.
Noting it was almost light out and worried that she’d overslept, Belle then jumped up and hurried to dress, rushing down the stairs as she pinned her hair back. As soon as she reached the dining hall, she was mortified to find that Rumpelstiltskin was awake and spinning at the wheel. He’d built the fire and even had tea ready on the table. He stood when Belle came in apologizing. “I’m so sorry I overslept,” she was shaking her head ashamedly. “I’m not normally so irresponsible--”
He stopped her by holding up his hand as he walked closer. “It’s all right,” he declared. “I’m not incapable of taking care of myself. Here,” he picked up a cup and poured some of the steaming liquid into it, “have some tea, and give yourself time to wake up.”
She accepted the tea -- after noting that he knew exactly how she liked it with two cubes of sugar -- and held it between her hands up to her nose to breathe in its warmth before taking a sip.
“Why were you in the library last night?”
Belle nearly choked on her tea but somehow managed to maintain control. “Oh, um,” she cleared her throat to think. “The storm. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d read for a while. I guess it worked.”
“Yes,” he mumbled, an eyebrow raised.
Belle knew she should say something about his kindness, though it made her nervous to do so. “By the way, I assume you were the one to take me up to my room. Thank you for that.”
“It was nothing,” he fibbed, his voice light as he set down his own cup of tea to go back to his spinning.
In truth, when he’d found her with her upon arriving home, he thought she’d looked like an angel sitting there in the window, her cheek on her knees, looking out at the passing storm, her hair hanging in curls over her gown-covered legs… He’d come in quietly, believing that she was awake and possibly -- and perhaps somewhat hopefully -- waiting for him. He didn’t know why the hope had been born, though, since he’d avoided returning home for hours, knowing she’d be there. Something was happening within him. The man who’d feared nothing for decades was becoming afraid of a simple woman who asked nothing of him. It was a first, an experience he’d never before known. And seeing her looking so frail and watching the front driveway for him stirred his hardened heart.
When he’d moved closer and discovered that she was asleep, he wasn’t disappointed; he was entranced. For several minutes, he just sat on the seat by her feet and watched her, wondering what she was dreaming. Then she’d stirred, appearing to be uncomfortable in that position; he stood and didn’t think twice about picking her up, the act coming to him instinctively. She folded against him like a child; her palm that came to rest on his chest burned like a hot coal, even through his clothing. He held her for a long time there, regretting having touched her. He should’ve just let her be. But now it was too late. She was in his arms, and he was enjoying it far more than he should for someone that was most likely just a tool to separate him from his powers.
For the first time in decades, he actually considered it, what it would be like to have the love of his Belle, though there was no guarantee that she would stay once his powers were gone. If it was true that she’d been coerced into seducing him for that purpose, once her mission was accomplished, she’d leave and he’d have no way to find her. She’d be gone, and he’d be powerless and alone. He just couldn’t take that risk.
Carrying her to her room had seemed like the most natural thing to do. Setting her down in her bed, tucking her in between the sheets and blankets, he’d felt…different than ever before. He felt gentle and caring and kind. He felt human again.
What if she didn’t leave? a voice seemed to whisper as he watched her sleep with the help of the soft moonlight cascading through the windows. No, surely she would. Everyone he’d ever cared about had left. No one had ever loved him, and he was sure no one ever would. Even if it seemed that she was committed to holding up her end of the bargain to remain as his servant, he was certain it was only a matter of time before she’d leave him and never return.
And when that day came… He couldn’t imagine the grief he would bear, the loneliness, or the heartache, knowing he’d never see her again. It would be a hundredfold what he’d felt when he discovered she’d been involved with the queen and her endgame. When Belle had taught him what it felt like to be loved and stripped it away with one casual statement about curses and kisses. Part of him wished they could go back to before, when he thought she was just a girl baring her heart and drawing his out, making it beat again. But it had all been a lie; he couldn’t believe that any of it had been true. He couldn’t let the queen beat him. He had to protect his power at all costs.
Still, there was one thing he knew for sure: his power had never made him feel as alive as that kiss.
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Next update: Wednesday-ish!
Summary: What if Belle had refused to leave Rumpel’s castle, knowing she’d be rejected at home?
A/N: Enjoy! :)
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Link to previous chapters: Prologue and Chapter 1
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Chapter 2:
He was pleased to see that Belle was already in the dining hall when he came in the next morning, dusting the various collectibles on the shelves. A covered plate was positioned at the head of the table, and a fire was roaring, licking the bottom end of the chimney with its flames, yet, it wasn’t even light outside. How long had she been up?
When she heard him come in, she hurried over and greeted Rumpelstiltskin with a nod and a courteous smile. “Your breakfast, sir,” she said like a true servant, placing her hand on the lid of the plate until he took his seat. Then she opened it to reveal a pan-seared steak, fried eggs, cut-up fresh fruit…and a piece of her bread with butter.
“Beautiful,” he commented, his gaze wandering from his plate to her face.
Blushing at the unexpected attention, Belle quickly curtsied and started for the door. Without admitting it, she was running from her feelings this time, away from him and his infectious sense of humor and the kind eyes he tried to hide behind the love of his power.
He hadn’t meant his simple comment as a test, but her reaction had been useful. Perhaps there was a way to prove her sincerity, by merely pretending to be interested in her. “Uh, have you eaten?” Rumpelstiltskin asked before she could get too far away.
“Yes,” she answered quickly over her shoulder. “Earlier, in the kitchen. I have chores to do.” And then she was gone. He could only assume she was taking this agreement to remain merely as his servant very seriously, though, he didn’t feel he’d won that round.
She appeared again an hour or so later, quietly slipping in to clear his dishes while he was spinning. She was so quiet, in fact, that he almost missed seeing her completely, since he was so wrapped up in his task. He opened his mouth to speak, just as he caught sight of the swaying of her skirt as she passed through the doors and they closed behind her. Another opportunity was missed, but that couldn’t be what produced the feeling of emptiness from her absence.
Sighing, Rumpelstiltskin went back to his task, hoping that it would get easier as the days passed. Belle rarely spent any time in the dining hall with him the way she had before, keeping herself busy in the other parts of the house. He didn’t understand why he even cared; he’d been alone for years in his echoing castle, and his aloneness hadn’t bothered him then. Why now?
There had been several occasions where his path had crossed hers, and he thought it had felt awkward and unusual. What was it about her that made him uncomfortable in his own home? More than once after those first few days, he’d avoided running into her when he saw her coming toward him. He’d stop and linger behind a column or duck in an adjacent hallway until she passed. In those moments, he’d watch how she moved, her gracefulness and hard-working effort she put into every task. She cleaned windows and banisters and cobwebs out of dark corners, even getting down on her knees to scrub a little bit of the floor each day with a bucket of soapy water and a rag. Rumpelstiltskin could only watch in amazement, and over time, as he learned her rigorous schedule, he found that he would purposely be in a position where he could see her. He would never admit it, however. He was just making sure she was doing her job.
One particular day, when she’d dedicated her time to laundry, their paths unexpectedly crossed, and he was too lost in thought to stop it. He’d been so wrapped up devising a plan to find a certain fairy godmother that he literally bumped into Belle on the landing of the stairs. After apologies for the bumble, they started off on their separate ways, his thoughts again focused on the fairy godmother and her powerful wand he wanted to acquire.
“Rumpelstiltskin?” she said hesitantly, snapping him back to the present. He had to clear his mind to stop and give her his attention. For a moment, he was struck by the sight of her standing above him on the landing in front of the windows with the light surrounding her thin but shapely frame.
She held out the basket she was carrying. “Y-your clothes. What should I do with them? Normally I would put them away for you, but since I’m not allowed in your room--”
“Oh,” he mouthed, walking back up the handful of steps he’d descended. “I’ll take them.” He reached out his hands to take the basket from her, but she held it fast.
“Um, my things are in here too.”
Rumpelstiltskin’s gaze met hers. Something about the way she’d said it made it sound so intimate, having just their clean clothes folded in the same basket, side-by-side. He felt warmed by the idea, but he’d been on his way out. There was a king who knew of this fairy godmother and might be willing to bargain with him again now that he’d lost the son the imp had given him thirty years prior. “I tell you what,” he decided, believing that it would be faster and would take care of her problem if he dealt with it before his trip. Though he’d relocated the dagger, he still wanted her to keep out of the west wing. “I’ll accompany you to the bedroom to put them away, and then you may take the basket back to your own room.”
She concurred, “A man shouldn’t have to do woman’s work, anyway.”
He took a moment to mull over the fact that she’d again called him a man, but then with a nod, he started up the next section of stairs to the second floor, all the way to his room, with her a few paces behind him.
Belle had, of course, been in there before, but only alone to clean. Rumpelstiltskin had never joined her in the room until now, and it was a little disconcerting, considering her feelings for him. But she wouldn’t be distracted, she decided, getting down to the business of putting away his shirts and pants and other items. Some things had to be hung in his wardrobe while others were tucked into the drawers of the chest on the north wall. He perched in a chair on the opposite side of the room to watch her, leaning way back in the chair, with his fingers steepled in front of him, the way he often did. His eyes on her every move made Belle slightly nervous. She talked to him to rid her of the nerves, asking about the age of the castle and how long he’d lived there.
“Oh, about a decade now, though the castle is quite old. I got it as part of a deal,” his voice sang as he looked around at the decorative crown-molding, as if admiring his own acquisition.
Belle snickered. “Of course.” She moved from the closet to put a nightshirt in a drawer. “Have you always…made deals? I mean, since you got your…power?”
“I find it suits everyone involved, yes,” he said thoughtfully, sitting so still as he spoke that, were it not for the movement of his lips, he could pass for a statue. “Most people are willing to give up even the most precious of things in exchange for finding their dreams or saving their lives…”
“And that’s what you’re seeking to acquire from people? Their most precious things?” She closed the drawer and went back to the basket for another item. She could’ve organized the clothes a bit better to make the time pass quicker, but she didn’t, enjoying having the opportunity to question him a little.
“I like to have precious things, too, dearie.”
Belle’s breath caught in her throat as her hands stilled and she stared up at him. Did that include her? “Like me?” she couldn’t stop her lips from asking.
He took a moment to reply softly, “Yes.”
Picking up the last of his stack, she held the articles in her hands. “Did you intend for me to only be your servant forever? Or was there…more?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, his voice sounding more and more like the man she’d only seen for a moment, those seconds after their kiss. His voice returned to its squeaky pitch. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, I guess.”
Belle nodded and put the last two things in his drawer, shutting it and picking up the basket. “I’m finished.” She started for the door.
“Good,” Rumpelstiltskin commented as he stood and she passed him. “Oh,” he snapped his fingers. “Don’t bother with dinner for me this evening. I have to go out again.”
Belle stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “But…you’ll be back.”
“Yes,” he replied, holding out the vowel for a long moment, finding it disconcerting that she still found the need to play the game of pretending she was interested in spending time with him. How long must this charade go on? Didn’t she realize that he no longer believed the lies intended to rid him of his power? Surely the queen coached her on just what to say and do to make him succumb to her wiles…
She finally spoke again. “I’ll…see you tomorrow, then.”
- - - - - - - - - - -
Belle’s mocking innocence and sweetness was still with him as he went through his day. First stop was to meet with King George and, with the loss of his precious son, James, help him through yet another trial. Apparently, he’d promised his son would slay a dragon for another king to save his own kingdom, only James died tragically right after sealing the deal with Midas. King George wanted his son back, but resurrections weren’t possible by magic. Fortunately for him, when he’d bartered for his son some thirty years before, Rumpelstiltskin had found a man with identical twin sons willing to give up one for a need of his own to be met in return, and the deal was struck. Now that James was dead, his twin would be the only solution to King George’s conundrum.
Since King George couldn’t be seen talking to the commoner identical to his son, lest it get back to Midas, he had sent Rumpelstiltskin in his place to finalize the deal, promising the boy’s mother in exchange that she would be well taken care of for the rest of her life. Considering their lack of wealth, it seemed like the perfect bargain; however, had it been his, Rumpelstiltskin would’ve asked for a bit more than just to borrow the shepherd for a few days as the king had requested.
While he waited as the mother explained to her son how he’d never known about a twin brother, Rumpelstiltskin’s mind wandered to Belle and what she was doing at that very moment. It was a Thursday, so it was likely she was in the library again, dusting books and shelves and putting it all back in right order. She’d follow that up by choosing a book to read and sitting in the garden or by the pond or-- Why was he thinking of her again? It seemed like every time he stopped to take a breath, she was in his mind and heart. He had to clear them, to purge those bright blue eyes from his memory, to forget to what it was like to love and be loved, even momentarily, and to scrub the taste of her lips from his.
He pulled out his flask and took a sip, hoping the strong liquor would sting his tongue and burn her from his heart. Business, he thought, stick to business. He focused his attention then on what the mother and son were discussing, following their words by letting the memories of that thirty-year-old bargain replay in his mind. It was definitely better than allowing Belle run his thoughts. Putting others in a difficult spot and having them make painful decisions was far better than feeling the results of his own.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Belle was awake and worried for the first part of the night, when a huge lightning storm appeared to be brewing to the north. She wasn’t sure which way Rumpelstiltskin had traveled since she hadn’t seen him leave, and she knew he must have some kind of supernatural way of transporting from one place to another, but still, she couldn’t sleep. She thought he’d have been home hours earlier. With each rumble of thunder, her heart beat a little faster. Finally, she gave up on trying altogether and sat up in the library’s window seat with her favorite book. She tried to read, but found that she was too involved with watching down the road leading up to their castle for movement.
She never saw him come home. At one point, her head felt so tired and heavy that she succumbed to the weight of it, letting it fall to rest on her upturned knees where she slept fitfully, worriedly. She stirred only slightly when she felt she was being moved, but mostly she was dreaming of long days and nights alone, with only the daunting silence as company.
When she awoke the next morning in her own bed, Belle had to take a moment to straighten out her own thoughts. She knew she hadn’t made it to her room, and now the vague memory of being moved made sense. He had carried her to her bed. The thought sent the blood rushing to her face and little butterflies to her stomach. She hadn’t even been wearing her robe; even if her nightgown was modest, she’d still be in a state of undress, making his gesture of kindness all the more intimate.
Noting it was almost light out and worried that she’d overslept, Belle then jumped up and hurried to dress, rushing down the stairs as she pinned her hair back. As soon as she reached the dining hall, she was mortified to find that Rumpelstiltskin was awake and spinning at the wheel. He’d built the fire and even had tea ready on the table. He stood when Belle came in apologizing. “I’m so sorry I overslept,” she was shaking her head ashamedly. “I’m not normally so irresponsible--”
He stopped her by holding up his hand as he walked closer. “It’s all right,” he declared. “I’m not incapable of taking care of myself. Here,” he picked up a cup and poured some of the steaming liquid into it, “have some tea, and give yourself time to wake up.”
She accepted the tea -- after noting that he knew exactly how she liked it with two cubes of sugar -- and held it between her hands up to her nose to breathe in its warmth before taking a sip.
“Why were you in the library last night?”
Belle nearly choked on her tea but somehow managed to maintain control. “Oh, um,” she cleared her throat to think. “The storm. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d read for a while. I guess it worked.”
“Yes,” he mumbled, an eyebrow raised.
Belle knew she should say something about his kindness, though it made her nervous to do so. “By the way, I assume you were the one to take me up to my room. Thank you for that.”
“It was nothing,” he fibbed, his voice light as he set down his own cup of tea to go back to his spinning.
In truth, when he’d found her with her upon arriving home, he thought she’d looked like an angel sitting there in the window, her cheek on her knees, looking out at the passing storm, her hair hanging in curls over her gown-covered legs… He’d come in quietly, believing that she was awake and possibly -- and perhaps somewhat hopefully -- waiting for him. He didn’t know why the hope had been born, though, since he’d avoided returning home for hours, knowing she’d be there. Something was happening within him. The man who’d feared nothing for decades was becoming afraid of a simple woman who asked nothing of him. It was a first, an experience he’d never before known. And seeing her looking so frail and watching the front driveway for him stirred his hardened heart.
When he’d moved closer and discovered that she was asleep, he wasn’t disappointed; he was entranced. For several minutes, he just sat on the seat by her feet and watched her, wondering what she was dreaming. Then she’d stirred, appearing to be uncomfortable in that position; he stood and didn’t think twice about picking her up, the act coming to him instinctively. She folded against him like a child; her palm that came to rest on his chest burned like a hot coal, even through his clothing. He held her for a long time there, regretting having touched her. He should’ve just let her be. But now it was too late. She was in his arms, and he was enjoying it far more than he should for someone that was most likely just a tool to separate him from his powers.
For the first time in decades, he actually considered it, what it would be like to have the love of his Belle, though there was no guarantee that she would stay once his powers were gone. If it was true that she’d been coerced into seducing him for that purpose, once her mission was accomplished, she’d leave and he’d have no way to find her. She’d be gone, and he’d be powerless and alone. He just couldn’t take that risk.
Carrying her to her room had seemed like the most natural thing to do. Setting her down in her bed, tucking her in between the sheets and blankets, he’d felt…different than ever before. He felt gentle and caring and kind. He felt human again.
What if she didn’t leave? a voice seemed to whisper as he watched her sleep with the help of the soft moonlight cascading through the windows. No, surely she would. Everyone he’d ever cared about had left. No one had ever loved him, and he was sure no one ever would. Even if it seemed that she was committed to holding up her end of the bargain to remain as his servant, he was certain it was only a matter of time before she’d leave him and never return.
And when that day came… He couldn’t imagine the grief he would bear, the loneliness, or the heartache, knowing he’d never see her again. It would be a hundredfold what he’d felt when he discovered she’d been involved with the queen and her endgame. When Belle had taught him what it felt like to be loved and stripped it away with one casual statement about curses and kisses. Part of him wished they could go back to before, when he thought she was just a girl baring her heart and drawing his out, making it beat again. But it had all been a lie; he couldn’t believe that any of it had been true. He couldn’t let the queen beat him. He had to protect his power at all costs.
Still, there was one thing he knew for sure: his power had never made him feel as alive as that kiss.
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Next update: Wednesday-ish!