Chapter Text
“Rumple, what do you know about fairy tales?” Belle questioned, as she traced over the well worn cover of the book she had just finished, Scheherazade's One Thousand and One Nights, with affection.
She had just finished reading it for what had to be the fifth or sixth time since arriving at the Dark Castle. Despite having more books than she could possibly ever read in the library that Rumplestiltskin had gifted her, she kept coming back to this one. There was something about it that just kept pulling her back each time. Something about the crisp, textured pages, the golden writing that glittered in the crackling firelight, the words so beautifully flowing together to create a masterpiece. It was magical.
As usual, thoughts of magic brought to mind her sorcerer and a glance up from the gilded print revealed that Rumplestiltskin hadn’t budged from his position at his spinning wheel. He had recently moved a smaller wheel into her library, under the guise that ‘the air was drier here and it makes it easier for the straw-to-gold transformation.’ They both knew it wasn’t the true reason he had joined her, but she allowed him to have his reasons; any objections or comments would only send him scrambling away. Truth be told, she liked having him there with her. Even when they just sat together silently, it was comforting and companionable.
“Rumple, did you hear what I asked?” She spoke louder, but she still might as well have not spoken at all with the reaction she received. He didn’t even blink as he kept up the steady motion of the spinning wheel. She didn’t understand how he could stare for hours upon hours at the wheel without losing his mind. He said it helped him forget, but he would never expand on what exactly he was trying to forget, so she had given up asking. Instead she would try to watch him spin, but the steady creak of the wheel, and the desire to try and catch the second the wool turned to gold, always tired her eyes and she’d doze off and would later find herself in bed with no memory of how she had gotten there.
Laying the book down on the settee, Belle uncurled herself from the position she had been sitting in for most of the day. After a moment, where she danced erratically in place to try and shake out the pins and needles feeling from her legs, she padded over to where her silent master sat, seemingly lost in his head once again. Placing her hand on his shoulder didn’t rouse him, but he certainly reacted when she spoke mere inches from his ear. “Rumplestiltskin, did you hear me?”
The result was almost instantaneous. Rumple jumped out of his seat and the sudden motion sent her careening back, arms flailing like pinwheels to try and keep from falling. She didn’t know why she was surprised at the result, though Rumplestiltskin was miles better than where he had been when she had first joined him there in the castle nearly a year ago, he still got flighty when she got too close to him. It didn’t matter if it be in the physical sense, or if she was getting close to breaching one of the many walls he had built up around himself, he was still like a scared little kitten in many ways.
Just as she started to tip backwards, destined to meet a hard end when she hit the floor, two strong hands took hold of her arms and helped her regain her balance. It took her a second to realize that she had screwed her eyes shut, and when she finally opened them she found Rumple still holding her close, his larger than normal eyes raking over her worryingly. Once he seemed satisfied that she was no longer in danger of falling or hurting herself, he was gone in poof of violet smoke. Just like always, after a moment of closeness and kindness, he’d run away and put his walls back up.
“Rumplestiltskin! Rumplestiltskin get back here!” Belle shouted, knowing that even though he was no longer in the library, the magician had ways to spy on the rest of the castle. She wasn’t surprised however when he didn’t return. It looked like it was going to be another game of cat and mouse with the ‘oh so terrifying’ Dark One.
She started her search in the kitchen, she had just made a rum cake earlier that morning and she knew he couldn’t resist it usually. Sure enough the cake was gone, but so was her sorcerer. Her next spot was his tower. It was his usual hide-away spot because it gave him a built in excuse that he was working, not hiding, nope not hiding at all. To her surprise, however, he wasn’t there. A quick peek in his bed chambers, the trophy room, and even the dungeons all resulted in nothing as well.
Conceding defeat Belle trudged back to the library. Everything was in the same place as when she left it, so Rumple hadn’t come back here either. Retreating back to her favorite settee she retrieved her book and stretched out, intending on getting comfy for another long reading session. While stretching out her neck she glanced up at the ceiling and screamed.
“Rumplestiltskin what are you doing!”
Sitting cross-legged on the ceiling, and currently stuffing what appeared to be the last piece of her rum cake into his mouth, above her was the man she had been looking high and low for, but apparently, she just hadn’t looked high enough. At her scream, he gave one of his trademark giggles, though it was slightly muffled due to the mouthful of cake, and flipped right side up to sit atop one the bookshelves. “Just inspecting the dusting, Dearie. I think you need to put a little more effort into it, it's positively filthy up here.”
“Rumplestiltskin, I didn’t chase you down to talk about my cleaning practices.”
“Well that much is clearly obvious,” Rumple trilled as he ran a finger across the top of the bookcase, then looking at it with exaggerated disgust. “Really, what do I keep you around for if not to keep the place clean for our guests.”
“Rumple, you don’t have guests,” Belle reminded him.
“Well maybe if you dusted our bookshelves instead of reading that silly drivel all day, we would!” He ended his sentence with a flourish of his hand and violet smoke enveloped her book, wisping it up, up and away to his hands. He held it with just the tips of his fingers as if he was afraid it would dirty his hands, or possibly the other way around, as he looked it over. “This nonsense again? Haven’t you read it already?”
Belle crossed her arms and glared up at him, “Yes, I’m rereading it. And they aren’t nonsense, they are fairy tales. They also happen to be the reason I was chasing you all over the castle.”
“I already told you, Dearie, I’m not taking you to Agrabah. Not after the Narnia incident. That lion was going to eat you for an afternoon snack, that was if he didn’t fill up on those four urchins first. Kings and Queens, pah, they’ll give a crown to anyone over there these days. I liked the last queen better, a bit cold, but at least she didn’t let some overgrown kitten tramp all over the place. ”
Rolling her eyes at his exaggeration, she tried to control her sarcasm as she responded. “Aslan wasn’t going to eat me, Rumple. You on the other hand...Well, you were trying to steal bits of his mane…”
“Well, it was important to the potion I was working on!”
Belle smothered a giggle at his petulant tone. It wouldn’t do to argue with him on this point, and she forced herself to try and look understanding. “Of course it was. As it was, I didn’t want to go to Agrabah, well I do, but that’s not what I was going to ask you about. I wanted to ask what you know about fairy tales.”
“They make it hard for the judgmental little jellyfish to fly,” Rumple quipped with a smirk. Belle knew he had little love for the fairies, though why was another mystery he kept hidden underneath all his layers.
“Rumple, that’s not what I meant. Fairy tales like that.” She gestured to the book that he was still absentmindedly flipping through. “What do you know about them? Are the stories real? Who gets to decide what gets written down? How do they keep the stories the same after so much time? How-”
Her barrage of questions ceased when Rumple casually slid off the top of the tall bookshelf and came plunging down towards the floor. Her heart leapt into her throat and she was certain that she was going to be scraping Dark One off the floor that night. At the last second, just before he would have crashed down in an ungraceful heap of broken bones on the floor, he came to a stop mid-air. He hovered there a moment, apparently relishing in her horrified expression, before stepping casually down to the ground as if nothing had happened.
“Why the sudden interest in these stories?” Rumple asked as he traced over the cover just as Belle had done before.
“It’s not a sudden interest really; I’ve always loved fairy tales. My mum used to read them to me before I went to bed, and I would dream of these beautiful far off lands. I could never travel much outside of Avonlea but these stories allowed me to travel the world. They taught me about love and kindness, beauty, responsibility, family and so much more. I grew up on fairy tales as did so many other people. They help shape our society.”
Rumple waved away her words with a casual flick of the wrist as he started pacing the room. “Yes, yes. That’s all well and good but you weren’t asking about how fairy tales influence the world, you were asking about the origin of them. You are skirting around something. What is it?”
Belle chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she tried to think of the best way to phrase what she wanted. Rumplestiltskin was usually pretty good about giving her what she wanted, though he’d deny it if asked, unless it had to do with magic. The unwritten rule of the castle was magic was off limits to her. Sure he might charm certain things for her, her baths to fill themselves, her chamber pots to empty, etc, but that was basic everyday things. If fairy tales were more magic than myth, like she thought they were, he might not let her have anything to do with them.
“I want to write a fairy tale. They’ve helped me so much, and I know they’ve helped others as well. I want to do that for someone else. I want to be able to help them. I want to write the story that someone reads over and over again because something in it just resonates within them. I know I will never be some great leader that people remember in the history books as inspiring hope in their people, but if I can write a story that touches one person and that one person shares it with another, and that person shares it. Then I can help improve the world.” Belle finished, feeling rather silly.
Rumple stared at her unblinkingly, his expression maddeningly unreadable, and she wondered if she should just let the whole thing drop. Gaston had told her several times that she lived too much in her books, and didn’t know how to live in reality. Maybe that’s what she was trying to do here. She loved her books so much she was trying to live on through them. Maybe she really was as pathetic as Gaston told her she was.
“You know what? Nev-”
“Fairy tales aren’t like normal stories. They are true stories of heroism, overcoming grand obstacles, and finding happiness. The fairy tales you read now, happened hundreds of years ago and were written down by a trusted source, usually a fairy hence the name fairy tale. There’s a very good chance that some day, far in the future, little nibblings will be reading the story of Brave Prince Charming and his Snow White.
“Fairies are the natural writers of these stories, they are the “paragon of good” and are often asked for advice or aid by the heroes so they know the truth of the stories. Others have written them in the past though. Sometimes there was a servant or aid to the heroes who would be trusted to write down the story. Once I think the reformed ‘villain’ was the author. In any case, they use a special ink and paper to write down the tales and the magic imbued within them keep the original copy from falling apart or being destroyed. The original copy can practically last forever.
“The fairies then either keep the tales in their grubby hands or, if requested, they will be given to the people the story was about. That’s how the stories usually spread. Like you said, people shared these stories. They’d read the original to their children, and so on and so forth. Part of the magic of the story is the basics of the story. The prince saves the princess and together they save the kingdom. Some details may change, but the essential bits are set in stone, or in this case paper.”
Belle sat in shock at the information overload. Never would she have thought that there was so much lore and history to fairy tales. She had hoped yes, but life had taught her that most of her hopes were usually just that, hopes. “That’s amazing! I can-”
“Yes, yes, yes, it’s all very fantastical, but like I said fairy tales require special ink and paper. Special ink and paper that I do not possess.” The last word was spoken with an air of finality, and he set the book down on one of the end tables scattered throughout the library as he made his way towards the door.
That was it. Her chance to change the world was gone. Her one chance...gone just like that.
“No,” Belle whispered to herself. She wasn’t going to let that be it. If this could be her chance to make a difference in the world, to help even one person, she had to do everything she could to make it happen. Rumple said he didn’t have the ink and paper necessary for her to write a fairy tale, but she had seen him go to great lengths for his potions before, she just had to convince him that this was worth his time and effort too.
Her footsteps sounded thunderous as they echoed in the library as she chased after Rumplestiltskin, but despite the fact that he must have heard her coming, he still didn’t turn around. When she finally caught up to him, she tried to slow her momentum, but failed and skidded right into his back.
“Oomph.” The air whooshed out of her lungs as she collided with Rumple’s solid form. Automatically her arms came around his middle to keep from falling, and she felt him tense slightly. Blushing scarlet she pulled back slightly, but didn’t let go completely. “Uhm, sorry.”
“Was there something you needed, dearie?” Rumple’s voice was higher than normal, and not in the high pitched falsetto he used to throw people off.
"I want to write a fairy tale.” Belle addressed his back, trying to sound firm and strong in her desire. It was hard to do when she was inches from him, staring intently at the detailed brocade of his waist coat.
“Yes, you said that before. But if you remember I also told you I don’t have the ink or the paper required for you to do so.” His voice was still high, and she noticed his fingers were making that twisting, spinning, motion she saw him do whenever he was nervous. Despite the fact he could have poofed away in an instant, he didn’t.
“You mean to tell me that the great and powerful Dark One isn’t capable of getting a little ink and paper? It’s outside even your reach?” She was baiting him, but if she knew her Rumple, then he wouldn’t be able to resist proving her wrong.
“I never said it was outside my reach to get it, it’s just such a tedious task. I don’t know why I would even bother getting them. The whole thing is beneath me.”
She didn’t know if he meant to sound so cold and harsh, if it was his master plan to get her to let him go, but if it was, it worked. Her arms dropped to her sides and she stepped away from him. Rumple used his new freedom to put some space between them, seemingly surprised to see her looking so upset.
“Belle, I di-”
“Rumple,” This time she cut him off as he had done to her multiple times. “Please, Rumple. I won’t ask for anything else, just this, please?”
Rumple regarded her carefully and after a long moment nodded. A moment later he disappeared in a poof of violet smoke.