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Maurice paced as he listened to Belle read to him from the large book that outlined strategies for fighting ogres. Her voice faltered with each shake of their castle. Her skin paled with each passing moment as the ogres neared. She wet her lips.
Gaston burst in as she finished the chapter on impaling techniques. Usually her father would have tried to keep her away from such books, but he needed everyone. There were women on the battlefield, fighting alongside their husbands and brothers. Belle almost felt a surge of pride for those brave soldiers, but that feeling was choked as dust flew from the ceiling with each quake of the earth.
"My lord Maurice," Gaston began, eyeing Belle's book with disapproval. "They have breached Avonlea's walls. They will be here by morning."
"This is truly the Day of Reckoning then." Maurice sighed, finally stopping his pacing and placing his hands on the table. "And we're halfway through."
"What?" Gaston's eyebrows scrunched together. "But-"
"The ogres!" Maurice all but screamed, his face red with passion. "The earthquakes!"
"Next is the pestilence," Belle murmured, rising from her chair. "After, the Floods of Fire. Then him."
Him. She said that one syllable with such finality. Him, who slipped in between the shadows and crept up upon the desperate souls hoping to make a deal. Him, with the reptilian eyes and strange, gray-gold skin. The Dark One. Rumpelstiltskin.
"Yes, my Belle." Maurice said tiredly. "You are always right."
Gaston walked over to her father. He indicated that he wanted to speak privately with him, and the two men walked to the corner of the ballroom, speaking in hushed tones.
It was now Belle's turn to pace. She walked the length of the ballroom until the idea occurred to her.
She knew it was risky. She knew that if it didn't work, they were surely doomed. But she had to try.
"Rumpelstiltskin," she muttered, trying to make sure the men wouldn't hear. But she had forgotten the silence that covered them like a shroud. Gaston turned first, a wild terror in his eyes.
"Belle!" He yelled, running over to her, grasping her shoulders. "What are you-"
"Rumpelstiltskin," Belle remained steady, but averted her eyes from Gaston's. He shook her.
"Belle, stop," Maurice walked slowly towards her, like she was one of the does he used to hunt. She winced at the thought.
"Rumpelstilts-"
"Stop!" Maurice lunged and shoved a handkerchief into her mouth, therefore silencing her. She would have pulled it out, as it tasted like sweat and failure, but Gaston pinned her arms behind her. Tears stung her eyes. She struggled against Gaston's grasp.
"Hush, love," he crooned, stroking her face with his free hand.
She spit the handkerchief at his face.
Gaston sputtered, giving Belle just enough time to slip out of his grip and scream "Rumpelstiltskin!"
Maurice grabbed her by her waist, and Gaston placed his hand on her mouth. She bit it, but he didn't budge.
"What were you thinking?" Maurice bellowed, turning her roughly so that she faced him. She smiled a little. The deed had been done. Maurice could not do anything about it.
She didn't process the way his hand was moving until it was stopped by another. She gasped, and followed the hand's motions as it grasped Maurice's arm and flung him across the room. Gaston drew his sword and Belle rushed to her father, not caring about the hand or the fact that Maurice had been about to strike her.
He was gasping for air by the time she reached him. She placed her hand on his forehead.
"I'm sorry," Maurice wheezed, as if a force was pushing on his chest. "I shouldn't have-"
"No, you shouldn't have," an unfamiliar male voice spat. Belle didn't turn, instead checking to make sure her father was alright. After doing so she looked at the floor. She knew who it was. And she wasn't excited to look.
She heard Gaston step forward towards the voice.
The voice giggled.
"I wouldn't try that if I were you, boy."
Belle heard a light footfall and Gaston gasp, her senses heightened in her fear. She knew whoever was walking wasn't Gaston. She knew he wasn't alright.
She finally gathered up the courage to turn, standing up and straightening her skirts, but keeping her eyes on the ground. The steps stopped. They walked toward her. She noticed the way the creature walked, with an elegant grace and lithe step. The boots walking towards her were finer than any her father had ever owned, lined with a fur she had never seen before. She suddenly realized how cold it was.
The boots stopped. She raised her eyes slowly, taking in the blood red doublet, the leather vest. She stopped her eyes when she saw his skin. Her breath caught in her throat.
"You called, dearie?" The voice trilled, though it was somewhat strained.
Belle swallowed her fear and responded. "I did, milord."
"Look up at me when you speak, girl. I like to be looked in the eye."
She raised her head and just about choked. His eyes... His teeth...
"Oh," she murmured to herself.
But she wasn't about to offend him. Not when so much was at stake. She dropped into a low curtsy, feeling his reptilian eyes on her. She met them.
He clapped his hands and laughed. "Oh, this will be fun!" He giggled, but even that was light and controlled.
Her eyebrows raised as her heartbeat regulated. She was no longer afraid, but intrigued. She had heard he killed and laughed and mocked uncontrollably. And now he seemed like he was about to fly off the handle, and strangely, he wasn't.
It was strange, but everything about him was strange. She didn't know what to make of him.
His smiling stare was annoying her. She stepped forward, and he tittered, as if this was some sort of splendid game.
"I called, yes," she said, and drew herself to her full, albeit short, height. "I called on behalf of my people."
"How noble," he jeered, but it seemed half-hearted, an act of a tired man with too much on his mind.
How curious.
"You caused this Day of Reckoning to occur," she continued. "Surely-"
"Ha!" He barked a sharp, humorless laugh. "I? Cause this? Don't be stupid, girl. You did."
Belle's eyes widened.
"Well, not you in particular, dearie. More like... Your ancestors. Your dear family." He pointed to a stray portrait on the wall, one of a duke who had died at least two centuries ago.
"If we have offended you, sir-"
"Offended me?" He glared, a truly terrifying sight. "You think this was all about a petty feud?"
"Well," Belle answered carefully. "I'm sure we would have remembered anything else."
“Your, ah, frozen father and fiancé certainly do," he retorted, and gestured around the room. Belle turned and gasped, almost choking. Gaston and her father.....
"Are they dead?" Her voice was barely controlled, anger at herself and Rumpelstiltskin about to boil over. How could she have let this happen?
"Not yet, dearie." Rumpelstiltskin replied, though there was no trace of amusement. Just a chilling rage.
"What did we do to you?"
He froze, a kind of morbid fascination dawning over his features.
"You don't know, do you?" His voice was low, teetering on the edge of fury.
"No," Belle answered, stone-faced. "But I would fix it if I could." She said this sincerely, and not just because he was causing this apocalyptic Reckoning.
Rumpelstiltskin's eyebrows raised. He snapped his fingers, and Belle heard her father rise and Gaston walk towards her. She held up a hand to them. They stopped.
"What do you want?" Belle asked, slowly stepping towards The Dark One until they were mere inches apart. "Ask for anything."
"Those are dangerous words."
"I know."
Now it was his turn to look at her curiously, like he had never encountered anything like this, anything like her.
"I want..." He looked around the ballroom, surveying the once bright tapestries, the once shining silver. He looked at Maurice.
He stepped past Belle so that she had to turn.
"You," he said to her father, with contempt in his voice. "You took a child from me."
Maurice was frozen in fear.
"I-"
Rumpelstiltskin held up a hand and continued.
"So now I will take a child from you. Seems fair, does it not?"
"Your deal's with me, not with my father," Belle said with as much bravery as she could muster. What was this about taking children?
Rumpelstiltskin looked incredulous. "You still call this man your father after he almost struck you? Aren't you angry?"
"Of course," Belle replied. "But now is not the time to discuss it."
Rumpelstiltskin gave her a wry grin, showing his ruined teeth.
"You're clever, girl," he offered, and stepped close to her, so close she could feel his breath on her ear as he whispered: "Let's make that deal."
Belle's heartbeat quickened.
"What..." She began, but he was so close.
"Do I want?" He prompted. "Well, that's simple, dearie. I want you."
Gaston lunged and stabbed Rumpelstiltskin in the chest, but the sword melted as if it were ice as it touched his leather-clad form. He laughed. "This isn't your fight, dearie. It is the fight of the Marchlands. Not of your tiny fiefdom."
"I'm to be ruler of the Marchlands once I marry Lady Belle," Gaston growled, staring at where his blade had been.
"Ah," Rumpelstiltskin replied. "But she's coming with me."
"No," Belle retorted, stepping in between the two men. "Not unless you spare my people and our land."
"Well that was a given."
"Of course."
Belle watched her father's face go from pale to paler to red as the exchange took place. He looked as if he were about to explode.
"That was two centuries ago!" He finally yelled, and his hands shook as they balled into fists. "And why take Belle? She is as innocent as your son was."
"Do not speak of my son, you fucking bastard," The Dark One was quivering with rage.
"Your son?" Belle asked quietly, looking up at him.
Rumpelstiltskin turned, but when he looked at her, she swore he aged twenty years. "Yes," his voice was a barely controlled sob. "My son."
Belle felt a surge of pity for the man. But Belle was nothing if not pragmatic. She knew that if she didn't do something, all was lost. Pity wouldn’t help Avonlea any, and an angry father was a force to be reckoned with, especially if the father was the Dark One.
She knew that the feud would never end unless Rumpelstiltskin got his justice. A child for a child. A life for a life. A price she was willing to pay.
"I will go with him."
Her father turned so fast it gave her whiplash. Gaston bellowed some incoherent word. Rumpelstiltskin laughed.
"You can't, Belle!" Her father rushed towards her, grasping her hands. "It's not worth it."
"Isn't it?" Belle asked, thinking of all the deaths that had occurred already. All the lives forever altered.
Gaston glanced at Rumpelstiltskin before looking back at Belle. "I forbid it."
"It's done."
"She's right." Rumpelstiltskin snickered.
Belle winced. What would he do to her?
The carriage had left long before Belle began to cry. It was small tears at first, but then outright bitter weeping. She was angry at her father for keeping secrets from her, secrets that almost tore apart their land. She was angry at Gaston for seeing her as chattel. But most of all, she was angry at Rumpelstiltskin.
At the thought of his name she looked up at him through her tears. He was playing with a golden thread, weaving it in between his fingers in an intricate pattern as he watched the scenery. He hadn't said anything about her loud sobs. She realized that he had no interest in the scenery, it was to save her embarrassment. She was even more angry then. How dare he try to act like he was on the higher moral ground!
Of course, Belle knew she was simply looking for things to be upset about. It was a bad habit, one that had extended long past her toddler years. She gave a watery laugh, remembering her governesses’ complaints to her doting father about his spoiled daughter. Rumpelstiltskin’s head turned as she laughed, eyes narrowed.
“What’s so funny?” He asked, annoyed.
Belle sobered immediately, and looked away.
“We are going to my estate,” he continued, as if nothing had happened. “There, you will make good on our deal.”
“I assumed so.”
He laughed. “Not just clever. Sharp too.”
“I’m sorry,” Belle replied tiredly. “I’m usually more ladylike.”
“You think I care?” He laughed again, only humorlessly. “I’ll be the only creature you see for the rest of your life. So you're safe.”
Belle froze. He wasn't going to…
“No,” It was his turn to sound tired. “No, I’m not going to kill you.”
Belle thought on that. A couple minutes passed before her curiosity got the better of her.
“What happened,” Belle asked, treading carefully. “Between you and my family?”
“Why should I tell you?” He sneered.
“I can’t tell anyone else,” she offered. “You’re the only person I’ll see for the rest of my life.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but shut it, thinking carefully. “In the First Ogre Wars, your family was in control of the previous Dark One, Zoso. Now don't interrupt. I’m telling you this against my better judgement.”
Belle closed her mouth.
“Your family chose not to use Zoso’s power to end the war, rather, they kidnapped children from their families to be soldiers. My boy was fourteen, just beginning to learn a trade. He was so smart, smarter than his papa-“ There Rumpelstiltskin stopped suddenly. He took a breath.
“He was drafted. In saving him and the other children, I lost myself. And then, ultimately, him again.”
The words drifted across the seat to Belle, each one bringing her more and more pain.
“Your ‘Day of Reckoning,’ your ‘apocalypse,’ this was set into motion once I gained my power. To punish you for taking my son. Justice-” His voice broke.
“Why do you tell me this if it pains you?” Belle asked quietly.
“Because,” he collected himself. “You lost your father today, just like my son did. Has Maurice ever struck you?”
“No.”
“Precisely.”
Belle pondered that for a moment.
“What was his name?” Belle questioned, hoping she wasn’t pushing too far. Even if this man had a warped view of justice, even if he had taken her from everything she knew, she did not wish him any more pain. He had enough. She could see it in his eyes, in the set of his mouth. Everything about him screamed suffering. And it hurt her, too.
Rumpelstiltskin stared at her. He shook, and Belle could feel power radiate off of him in waves. He looked as if he were going to kill her when suddenly, he softened.
“You’re a curious girl, dearie.”
“I pride myself on it.”
He smiled, only not one of his showman smiles, but a genuine one.
“Baelfire,” he said no louder than a whisper, as if the name was a precious gift. “My Bae.”
“Is he still-”
“Yes. He’s still alive. But in another world.”
“Then let’s find him.”
He looked at her blankly.
“You’re the Dark One,” Belle reasoned. “It can’t be impossible for you.”
Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “You,” he said, incredulous. “Help me?”
“What else can I do at your estate? Clean?” Belle scoffed. “You have magic for that.”
Why she wanted to help him, Belle didn't know. Maybe it was because of compassion for his son. Or, perhaps, for Rumpelstiltskin. All she knew was this:
When he nodded his head yes, Belle was ready for wherever this quest took them; When he began telling her what he had learned so far, Belle followed along with his animated motions, making notes in her head; When he told her that he called the Day of Reckoning, ‘Bae’s Day,’ she teared up, because he didn’t know anything but violence.
And when he thanked her years later, with True Love's Kiss and a future step-son, she knew it had been worth it.