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therumbellehappyendingaward-blog · 6 years

Text

Chapter writer: @mysticknightsofscotland

PROMPT: QUESTION

AO3: HERE

As Belle's high school graduation drew closer, Rumplestiltskin saw less and less of his little witch. More often than not these days, when she was able to visit, she spent more time studying arithmetic and science than magic.

He supposed it was only a matter of time, after all. Crossing realms from the Land Without Magic was nearly impossible for mortals. The innocent belief of youth was what made “imaginary friends” and places like Neverland possible. But all childhoods must come to an end, even Belle's. As the time between visits grew longer, Rumple wondered if the day would come when his little witch lost her belief, her magic, and her interest in spending time with and old imp like him.

He stood at his tower window most afternoons, watching for any sign of her return. He'd seen her coming that first day, too. The fool of a hatter thought he'd been doing him a favor, sending the last daughter of Blanche to his castle, gift-wrapped for slaughter. What monster in his right mind would turn down the chance to be free from its chains? Perhaps Rumple was the fool after all, because monster or no, he had not been willing to kill a child. Even more so now that he had watched this particular child grow into a young woman over the years of their acquaintance.

The trouble with myths is that they almost never contain the whole truth on their subject. Both Belle and Jefferson thought they knew the story of the Dames Blanches, but they had opposing sides of the tale, distorted through generations, and both incomplete. Rumple would know.

He was there.

He'd been an ordinary peasant once. A good, moral man with a beautiful family. When the war came, he refused to fight, refused to harm another thinking being. His elderly father mocked him for a coward, but his fairy godmother blessed him with healing magics for his convictions. She trained him to aid the wounded, and after the war to use his power to help crops and livestock grow. He had a purpose, and it was good.

But his father and wife soured on his generosity. They wanted him to charge more for his services so that they could live in luxury, gambling away more than they earned. He refused. Things got so bad between them that Rumple divorced Milah and took their son Baelfire with him.

They settled in a town far away from home where father and son could start over. Rumple struck a deal with the largest farmstead, to teach the Blanche family harvest magics in exchange for a small cottage on the property. Life was good for a time. He even tried to teach Bae magic, but the boy showed no aptitude for it, preferring to tend to the sheep whose wool Rumple would spin and weave into cloth.

But all good things come burning down.

He'd thought Bae was safe inside the cottage when he'd whisked it away out of reach of the flames. He'd been too busy trying to save the Blanches from the mob of anti-magic townsfolk that he didn't realize the price of that night's magic until it was over.

He found Bae among the charred remains of the sheep. They hadn't even made it out of sight of the paddock.

Annabelle Blanche, the youngest and only surviving daughter, found him there and demanded his help in cursing the land so that the townsfolk would suffer and starve for what they did. Bereft of his only son, Rumple knew he would have agreed to any punishment Annabelle might have asked for in that moment. He took the long knife Bae had carried for protecting the sheep and stabbed the blade into the ground, channeling their curse directly into the scorched earth.

The corruption of his magic manifested immediately, crawling across his skin in glistening golden scales from his hands to his face until every inch of him was changed. The worst of it wouldn't be revealed until later: with his life in ruins at his feet, having nothing left to live for, Rumple would come to realize that even death now shunned him.

Annabelle had escaped to another realm by the time he thought to try to undo the curse.

That was some time ago. He'd given up hope of redemption long before Jefferson sent the little witch his way. Now the means of breaking the curse were in his grasp, but it all seemed so less urgent now. What did it matter if the land around an abandoned town remained fallow? Rumple had certainly done worse with his darkened magic since then, starting with turning his enemies into snails, to state the most obvious example. He'd much rather watch his not-so-little-anymore witch graduate high school.

It wasn't the first time he'd visited Storybrooke. He'd often had to bring Belle home himself in the beginning, before her magic had grown strong enough not to wear her out after a few simple spells. But it was the first time he would venture out in public.

The lack of magic in this land always made him feel weak. It wasn't much of a problem when he was just dropping Belle off and returning home, but today he would be here for a few hours at least. The only good thing was that he wouldn't need a glamour spell to hide his appearance. Within minutes of arriving in Storybrooke, his scales always faded and he would appear as he had when he was mortal.

No one paid him much mind as he worked his way along the stands, searching for a seat among the crowd. They were too busy watching the steady stream of students in matching robes cross the makeshift dais in the middle of the field as their names were read aloud. He reached the end without finding an opening around the time the herald announced a lad named Fitzcairn. Rumple sighed and resigned himself to standing off to the side.

Isabelle French was announced not long after. The lonely shout of pride from somewhere in the crowd could only have been her father, but Rumple was transfixed by his little witch teetering on ridiculous heels as she crossed the dais.

She was beautiful, even from a distance. Strong, confident, brilliant, poised to take on a future that left little time for realm-crossing liaisons to learn magic that was unpredictable at best in this land. She belonged here, and the thought made his blood run cold.

The ceremony was concluding when Rumple realized the cold had nothing to do with his fears for the future. The chill was in the air, but only noticeable to a few. He scanned the crowd, searching. If only he could find the source before the evil spirit made its move. The cold was bone-deep down, a sign of a dangerously strong spirit. Parents were reuniting with their graduates now, and he had lost track of Belle. He had to move.

As the stands emptied, he went against the flow and climbed several rows in order to get a better vantage point. One robed youth looked much like the next. That is, except for the one that seemed to walk through people as if they weren't there.

Rumple trailed the spirit as best he could from six rows up. When it passed a gap in the crowd, he got a better look at it and almost lost his footing.

Seven hells, no!

He scrambled to get down the stands before the spirit could find Belle, cursing himself for ever thinking it was a good idea to come here. That spirit... it ought to be coming after him, not her. Never her. It was his fault it was here. It must have followed when he crossed realms.

He'd made it to the lowest bench when he caught a glimpse of Belle with her father. She was smiling, unaware of the danger. He drew in a breath to warn her, but it was too late. The spirit grabbed her, and they disappeared in an instant.

“No!”

Rumple teleported himself back to his realm, not caring what people might think if they saw. There was only one place the spirit could have taken Belle, and it was the last place Rumple would have wanted this confrontation.

He reappeared in a barren field. There was no sign of the evil spirit, but Belle gave a cry of relief and hurled herself into his arms, sobbing in terror.

“It's all right, pet,” he lied. “I'm here now.” He stroked her hair while keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings.

“It came out of nowhere, Rumple. It was so strong.” Belle trembled in his arms. “How did it get to Storybrooke?”

“Hush now, pet. It's not done with us yet.”

“What?” Belle looked up to him for an explanation, but he didn't take his eyes off the spirit standing in front of him.

It had been over a century since Rumplestiltskin had stood on Blanche lands, mourning his beautiful boy, but the spirit seemed little changed from who it had been in life. Angrier, for certain, but still the same slight frame and brown curls.

“Why are you here, Bae?” he asked. “Why now, after all this time?” His heart was breaking in his chest, torn between fear and despair. His son wasn't supposed to be trapped in the spirit realm. He'd comforted himself in the knowledge that a boy so pure and innocent and brave couldn't possibly be punished by the gods in such a way. Baelfire deserved nothing less than to be at peace.

And yet, here he was. The spirit raised an arm to point at the ground between them. Half-buried by ash and debris was the long knife Rumple and Annabelle had used to curse the land.

“Rumple?” Belle asked, looking from the spirit to the knife, and back to him. “What does he mean? Who is he?”

“Was,” Rumplestiltskin corrected. “It's a spirit, dearie. It hasn't been who it was for some time now.”

The spirit scowled and advanced until it stood directly over the knife. Its fists clenched at its sides and its ink black eyes locked on Rumple's.

Kill her, papa. Kill the witch and I'll be free.

“Bae, no.” His son's voice in his head shook him. It sounded just like him, so real, more real than his memories could ever match.

It's her family's fault I died! It's her family's fault I couldn't move on! Kill her, and the curse breaks.

“No,” Rumple whispered. “Not her fault. Mine. It's my fault.” His throat was tight.

“Rumple? What did he say?” Belle squeezed his arm. “Why are you crying?”

The breath he drew was shaky, but he summoned all the fierceness he could and stepped away from his little witch.

“You're not my son,” he snarled at the spirit. “I don't know who you are or who sent you, but Baelfire would never wish for an innocent's death.”

It's the only way, papa!

“Stop! You are not my son!” His voice cracked, and he tasted salt on his lips. “Stop sounding like him.”

Gentle hands pulled him back, and his brave little witch stepped between him and the spirit.

“Baelfire,” Belle said, “I'm so sorry you died. It was a fire, wasn't it?” As she spoke, she inched forward until she could reach down and pick up the knife. “It's okay if you don't want to talk to me, because I promise I will make things right. I'll break the curse.” Slow movements, soft words, all unbelievably strong or incredibly naive.

The evil spirit slammed into her when she moved to stand, knocking her back to the ground. Rumple's hand reached out to push it away from her with his magic before he even realized what he was doing. Bae's face looked at him with such betrayal, he almost apologized. Instead, he helped Belle to her feet.

“Did it hurt you, pet?” he asked.

You're choosing her over your own son? Papa, why?

Belle dusted herself off and shook her head. “I'm okay. I can break the curse, but I'm going to need your help.” To his bewilderment, she knelt on the ground and began drawing symbols in the dirt with the knife.

You can't trust her, papa! You have to stop her!

The evil spirit rushed at Belle again, but this time Rumple stepped between them and caught it in his arms. The force of it almost knocked him over, but then something shifted and suddenly it was inside him.

He fell to his knees. He could feel it moving, a second consciousness settling in beside his own. Possessing him? He tried to gather his thoughts, figure out how to expel it from his body. But then it spoke.

Papa.

Rumple gasped, fresh tears springing to his eyes. It was really him. Baelfire's memories were there, just as easy to see as his own. Every moment, right up to their last conversation when Rumple had told him to stay in the cottage while he went to help the Blanches escape the mob.

“Oh, Bae. I'm sorry, son.”

You can't let her do this, papa. You'll die.

“What about you, Bae? With the curse broken, you'll be at peace, yes?”

Yes, but Papa –

“My life would be a small price to pay for your happiness, Bae. I'd finally be able to join you.”

Tuning out the continued objections, Rumple turned to Belle. A quick glance at the runes she had drawn told him she must have been studying for this moment for some time. She'd known of her importance, then, even though he'd never spoken of it.

“My great-great grandmother tried to lift this curse once, but couldn't do it,” Belle explained as she finished up the last of the markings. “That's because she needed light and dark magic to do it.”

“Yes,” he said, simply. He took the knife from her, wrapping his fingers around the hilt and placing her hand atop his. He held her there until her blue eyes met his. “At least I got to see you one last time... Belle.”

Before her confused look could give way to questions, Rumplestiltskin plunged the knife into the ground. Bright light radiated out from the blade, sweeping across the ground. A wave of green followed as plants sprung back to life. Grass, moss, and wildflowers transformed the dismal dirt and ash into a field full of promise.

A tingling in his hands made him look down. Golden scales were fading back into pink, mortal skin. The transformation worked its way up his arms just as it had a century ago. When the sensation reached his chest, he drew in a deep breath full of the fresh scents of spring and felt Bae's spirit leaving him.

I love you, papa.

As the light faded, he responded in his heart and mind, And I love you, Bae. See you soon.

The moment the spell ended, Rumplestiltskin collapsed. Panicked, Belle tried to shake him awake, calling his name over and over. He looked human now, but that was a good thing, wasn't it? She had suspected that he had been cursed, but removing the curse shouldn't have harmed him, she thought. Remembering the movies and television shows she'd seen, she checked his pulse. She couldn't find it, and he didn't seem to be breathing either. Her hands flew to her mouth. Had she killed her best friend?

She looked around frantically, but there was no one to help. Even the evil spirit that may have been his son was gone. She had so many questions that she might never get answers to now if Rumple was dead.

Blinking away her tears, she kissed him goodbye.

His last words lingered in her thoughts. Despite everything, he seemed to have known it would be his end, and that was the comfort she would cling to. The final stroke had been his choice to make, and he hadn't hesitated.

Pulling away from him, she was startled to see him staring at her.

“Belle?”

“You're alive!” she exclaimed. “Oh, thank God, Rumple. I thought you were dead.” She helped him sit up, then wrapped him in a hug. Slowly, his hand came to rest on her back.

“I can't feel my magic,” Rumple said.

Belle sat back to look him in the eyes. They were brown now, and harder to read than his amber eyes had been. “It's a bit like losing a limb, isn't it?”

Rumple frowned. “Not quite so painful. Just... missing. Empty.”

She took his hands in hers. “Then I know the perfect way for you to adjust until it comes back. Come home to Storybrooke with me?”

#group black #mysticknightofscotland #rumbelle #finish this

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therumbellehappyendingaward-blog · 6 years

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Chapter 3 writer: @ifishouldvanish

PROMPT: STRAW

AO3: HERE

She was getting stronger.

That much was clear.

Summoning rabbits had given rise to summoning larger creatures. Deer, goats, and bears. Fantastic beasts plucked right from her own imagination. She almost hadn’t been able to dismiss one of them in time before it set loose into the forest.

She’d also given him a great oak tree in the gardens some weeks ago, and that he’d allowed to stay.

Rumplestiltskin watched out the window as she climbed the thing, making friends with the critters who had happily taken up residence in its plentiful leaves and branches. She’d talk to the birds, and they’d talk back in songs only she seemed to understand the words to.

His spinning wheel sat neglected as he watched her settle comfortably in the tree and pull a book out from her bag. It was a different one than yesterday, and he smiled.

His little witch was a little bookworm.

A much happier one too, than the one who’d traipsed onto his land those few years ago, blue eyes wet with tears.

Her protests against going home had gradually ceased, her comments about being picked on no more. He supposed it was possible that her father had improved, that her peers had learned some compassion. But deep in his heart he knew that she was learning to rise above those things. Finding her inner strength.

She would need that.

Her magic was coming in clouds of white and gold, a marked counter from his own deep reds and purples.

He'd always known her magic was different from his, but as she developed her powers, the difference grew more pronounced.

Being in the same room was beginning to effect his own magic in strange ways, too.

Unpredictable, it seemed.

Some days it felt as though they were two halves of a whole, perfectly in sync. Others, like two opposing forces incapable of coexisting.

Rumplestiltskin had never experienced such a thing before, but he wouldn't let on just how much it worried him. Magic was his domain, the thing he'd dedicated himself to teaching her, and yet…

Lately he found himself bumbling like some sort of amateur on more days than not.

It was only a week ago that they had been in the forest and crossed paths with one of those pesky evil spirits. It had been a particularly powerful one she couldn't banish herself, but it had also been one of his unfortunate days, and Rumplestiltskin going himself thanking his lucky stars when he'd been able to work his magic just in time to protect her.

She'd smiled and cheered, thrown her arms around him happily, seeming unaware of just how close of a call it had been.

His little witch, almost swept away, because he was losing his touch!

The thought sickened him!

It was the same thought that had brought him to his spinning wheel this afternoon. After all, spinning straw had always helped him organize his thoughts, clear his head. Find perspective.

Of course, he still hadn't spun a single thread.

He blinked away the fog of his thoughts, and realized that his little witch wasn't reading anymore, but writing. A squirrel scampered into her lap, and she spoke to it and laughed, smiled.

And now he was smiling again, too.

Her smiles were such contagious things, a sort of magic all their own.

Rumplestiltskin scowled, feeling his magic falter again. A tingle in his fingers, a tightness in his chest. He shook his head and turned his focus back to his wheel.

Straw to gold, straw to gold. Simple magic.

Surely a few hours of this would set him back to rights, he thought.

He'd spun two bushels of straw into gleaming gold thread and was beginning a third when she appeared beside him.

“Rumple?”

The thread he'd been working on snapped, and he muttered a curse to himself.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Yes, Belle?”

She pressed her lips together and grabbed a fistful of her skirt. “There's something I'd like to ask you.” she said.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Like what?”

“Well, it–” she blushed, “it's rather personal.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed and put on a smile. “Anything, pet.”

“Have you always had magic?” she asked. “Were you born with it, like me?”

A curious question, Rumplestiltskin thought.

“No.” he answered simply, his eyes fixed on the wheel.

“How…” she trailed off and shook her head, sitting beside him. “How did you acquire it, then?”

Memories flooded his thoughts. Painful ones, of his father, of Milah, of Bae.

“That's a long story, pet.” he sighed. “Much too long.”

She frowned, but seemed to see the excuse for what it was. “I understand.”

They sat in silence for a moment, looking out the window, at her oak tree.

“Well, I'd love to hear it someday.” she said, laying a hand on his back reassuringly.

He took in the setting sun, flecks of pinks and oranges poking through the cover of the trees, and cleared his throat. “Well, pet,” he said, “I think it's time you started on home, now.”

“I know,” she sighed, but she didn't make any move to leave. Instead she slouched and let her head drop to his shoulders. “Just… a few more minutes.”

“A few.” he told her sternly, and they sat still at his wheel, watching out the window as the pinks and oranges deepened into purples and blues.

“Do you think it's possible for dark magic to turn to light?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Our books.” she said. “There's all sorts of stories and accounts of light magic turning to dark. Being corrupted by a wielder’s less than honorable motives.”

“There certainly are.”

“But I don't believe I've ever read a story about someone's dark magic turning to light because they chose to do the right thing.”

“Nor have I, pet.”

“I’d like to.” she said. “It never seems to take much for someone to lose their light. But what do you think it would take, hm? For someone to earn it back? Would it be enough for them to simply find the light? Or would they have to make a sacrifice to it?

“That sounds like a discussion for tomorrow, dearie.” Rumple said. “Now, up. It's time for you to head on home.”

Belle picked her head up off his shoulder and blinked sleepily at him. “...Alright.” she smiled, getting up and fetching her cloak.

He could already feel his magic returning to its proper state as she prepared to leave. But as his magic came back to him, it seemed that something else had left him, as if to vacate the space.

“Goodnight, Rumple,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

And just like that, that something else returned.

“Goodnight, pet.”

#group black #finish this #rumbelle #ifishouldvanish

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therumbellehappyendingaward-blog · 6 years

Text

Chapter 2 writer: @ashadeofpemberley

PROMPT: KNIFE

AO3: HERE

3 Months Earlier

Mama wasn’t going to wake up.

The words from the doctors faded into indistinct murmurs as Belle French slowly came to the realization that her mother, her best friend, her only friend, was not going to see her graduate from high school. It was a small milestone at best, truly insignificant in comparison to all that Belle wanted to accomplish in her life, but the swiftness with which her world was crumbling stole the air from her lungs. Annette French had slipped into a coma six months before her 50th birthday after spending the day in her greenhouse. No one could explain what had caused it; it was a like a spell had been cast over her and no matter how many times Belle left tearstained kisses on her mother’s forehead, her eyes remained tightly shut.

Papa had already started to withdraw from her. Doctor Whale said it was common for husbands in his situation and would come around once he had fully grieved. Though he never said it aloud, Belle knew he partially blamed her for her mother’s condition.

“Damned superstitious nonsense,” was his normal response to his wife and daughter’s little stories. For her 12th birthday, Belle had been given a tiny book of spells from her mother with a note telling her how the book had been passed down to the youngest daughter of her mother’s family. Annette had passed it off as a family joke, something her mother had given to her when she was Belle’s age.

“My grandmother said that her mother stole this book from a powerful sorcerer she had seen leaving a mansion in the woods. But when she tried to return to the sorcerer’s hideaway it had vanished. I tried a few spells for fun when I first got the book, but none of them worked.” she said as Belle’s eyes scanned the worn pages with unbound curiosity. For several years the leather bound book sat on one of the countless shelves that made up the majority of Belle’s room. Her mother never mentioned it to her again except on her thirteenth birthday when she nervously asked if Belle shown it to anyone. She, of course, hadn’t-- no teenage girl who already carried the label of geek needed the extra baggage of having others think she believed in magic. Annette seemed relieved by this knowledge and let the matter drop after confirming its place in Belle’s room.

But her mother’s continuing concern for the book had renewed Belle’s curiosity in its contents.

Flipping through its pages, Belle found that the so called spells it contained were fairly harmless, almost mundane. A spell to help roses grow, another for turnips, there was even a recipe for a tonic that was supposed to cure bad breath. Finally she settled on attempting a spell that would turn flowers blue. Her parent’s small flower shop had been struggling for months now and having a novelty product like blue roses was sure to drum up some business for them. The next day, Belle snuck in the necessary supplies to the shop’s greenhouse in her bookbag and got to work.

If she was being honest with herself, she felt silly the for the first couple minutes. Whispering short incantations whilst drawing foreign symbols in the dirt was not going to improve her already ready shaky reputation should someone walk in on her.

She spent the afternoon in the greenhouse, making sure to stop by every rosebush and perform her little spell before watering the plants. Even if it didn’t work, she still would at least get her chores down before dinner. Though her father never truly got angry with her, he often scolded her for being too distracted by either her books or her daydreams to water the residents of the greenhouse before their soil began to crack and crumble and their leaves faded to a sickly yellow.

Belle waited a good two extra hours to see if the spell had taken effect yet, but not even so much as a light purple had come over the roses. Her mother had called her in for dinner a good ten minutes ago and quite frankly Belle had found it funny that she ever thought this would work to begin with.

So when her father shouted for her and his wife to come down to the greenhouse the next morning, she never considered that her afternoon of magic would have anything to do with it.

But oh did it ever.

Everything was blue. The roses, the daisies, even the small tomato plant they kept in the corner had turned a shocking cerulean hue. But it looked like the spell had taken it upon itself to up the ante as further investigation uncovered that even the roots of every plant had turned blue overnight.

Her father’s first thought was vandals, but, as her mother gently pointed out, it hardly seemed likely that there were any vandals on the planet that would attack a greenhouse with such an unusual goal nor would they have time to dye everything and put it back without getting caught by the timed lock on the door.

Belle’s father then turned to her. “Did you forget to set the lock on the door before you left here yesterday, Belle?”

“No, Papa, I’m sure that I set it,” she shook her head. That much was at least true, but once she caught her mother’s eye and saw that knowing look that never failed to wring the truth out of her, Belle knew she had been caught.

After palacating her husband as best she could and sending him off to see about advertising their new stock, Annette French turned her attention towards her daughter.

“Did you have something to do with this Belle?” she asked calmly. Belle nodded her head miserably, making her curly chestnut hair fall in front of her eyes. She never meant for it to go this far, never expected what was supposed to be a harmless afternoon of make-believe to turn into something so unexpected.

“Did you use you book I gave you?”

Another nod.

“Do you want to try it again?”

With that final question, Belle was thrown into the secret life of the descendants of the Dames Blanches. Dames Blanches was an ancient society of women once said to be restless spirits that tormented travelers but were really much less threatening figures. Namely witches.

The story about Belle’s great-great grandmother was only partially true- she had been given the book of spells from a sorcerer, a powerful wizard that lived in the woods behind the Blanche family’s estate. In exchange for a small cottage, the wizard taught the children of the estate how to perform spells to ensure the prosperity of their gardens and livestock. For several years the estate flourished and the plants and animals that came from her family’s land were the envy of the entire town. It was not to last though, as a stable hand caught one of the children practicing a healing spell late one night on one of their horses.The townspeople soon heard of the wizard living in the woods and decided to burn the forest and her great-great grandmother’s estate to the ground as punishment for harboring witches.

The wizard was never caught however, and the remains of the cottage were never found among the ashes.

The only evidence that any of this was ever real was a long rusted knife that no one could remember the Blanche family owning and a tiny leatherbound book full of simple harvest spells. It had been smuggled out by the youngest daughter of the estate--her great-great grandmother, Annabelle Blanche, and the only surviving member of the Blanche family.

Covered in ash and grief she created and placed a powerful curse on the land so that none but a daughter of Blanche could ever revive it. Over the years the magic that had struck such fear into the hearts of the townsfolk faded from memory into myth, but the curse still held. The townspeople had forgotten that they had come to rely on the hearty produce that came from the estate and within a few years the town had been abandoned.

Much was the same for Annabelle and her descendants. With every generation the magic that once flowed through the Blanche family line grew weaker until one year it was discovered that a daughter from the house of Blanche could no longer perform magic at all. After that the book was given to the youngest daughter of the Blanche family as a reminder of all that their family had been and all that the matriarch of their family had done.

Belle was the first daughter in thirty years to ever show a trace of magic in her blood and now it seemed as if she had inherited all of the dormant magic of her forbearers at once. Her mother could barely contain her excitement as she recalled all of the tales the late Annabelle Blanche that had been told to her when she was a girl. Apparently the curse had become more complicated over time as Annabelle Blanche had gone back to her home at the ripe age of 92 and tried repeatedly to lift the curse on their family’s land but to no avail.

“It is said that at that the moment in which Annabelle cast her curse she was so filled with both bitterness and innocence that her magic split into both dark and light.” Her mother spoke of her great-grandmother with a reverence that one might reserve for a queen or deity.

“So it serves to follow that only the powers of both dark and light magic can undo it and by then it was too late for Annabelle to fix her mistake.”

“But Mama, I don’t know dark magic, so how are we going to undo her curse?” A fifteen year-old Belle replied practically to her mother’s story. Over the past two years her magic had grown slowly but surely thanks to her mother’s careful tutoring and encouragement. But she still couldn’t do much more than grow flowers and occasionally some vegetables (turnips always gave her trouble).

“I know, and I hope you never will.” Her mother would always reply with a sigh. “You see, when Annabelle cast that curse I don’t believe she ever meant for it to be such a burden on her children and grandchildren but that’s the trouble with magic: it always comes with a price and you have to be prepared to pay it.”

“Who knows, Mama? Maybe one day we’ll come up with a new spell to undo the curse altogether.”

“Maybe, sweetheart, maybe.”

Annette looked down at her daughter who had now snuggled into bed and was holding her spellbook under her pillow, never realizing that Belle’s words had been all too serious and that the real trouble was just about to start.

#group black #finish this #rumbelle #ashadeofpemberly

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therumbellehappyendingaward-blog · 6 years

Text

Summary: The little witch was special beyond her blossoming powers. The wizard knew it well. A curse was destined to be broken, but who would pay the cost?

Chapter 1 writer: @thespinningmeanie

PROMPT: WITCH

AO3: HERE

Belle wandered alone down a beaten path. She was trying to hold herself together, to stop the tears that gathered in her eyes from falling. It had been two months since her Mama died and left her under the care of her Papa. Her loving Papa who doted on her very much was replaced by a man Belle would either find pass out on the couch or a drunk with an ill temper.

She didn’t really know where she was headed, only that she needed to get away fast from the taunts of her classmates and that she doesn’t want to go home yet.

At a young age she knew she was different - special, her Mama reassured her that she was whenever she confided in her. Mama was her strength, she taught her that by being brave bravery would soon follow.

Belle hoped she was doing it now but her steps falter when she felt a chill in the air. She knows what’s in front of her - an evil spirit who hasn’t found rest yet. Some of them only yearned to rest but some causes harm to the living. Belle ignored the spirit and tried to walked around it. It seemed to work, so she let her guard down then it grabbed her by the shoulders and flung her to the ground.

She winced when she tried to get up while the spirit glared menacingly, about to lunge at her.

Belle closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to come but it didn’t.

Slowly she opened her eyes and was greeted by the sight of a man dressed in an eccentric fashion, a top hat resting atop his head, his umbrella swinging back and forth in his hands.

“Hello.” The strange man said as he held out his hand to help her stand.

“Thank you.” She was gratified that he helped her but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a stranger who have powers to vanquish evil spirits as it seems. She almost asked him if he’s a friend of -

“So what are you doing here in the woods?”

Instead of answering him she asked him the same. “What about you? Why are you doing here?”

He gaped at her and shook his head. “Nevermind that. I’m Jefferson.”

“Izzy.” She took his proffered hand and shook it.

“Would you mind helping me? Like I did with you.”

“You mean help you stand?” She said, testing the waters. “You’re funny Jefferson.”

“Oh Come on! Y’know what I’m talking about.”

She took a hasty step back only then she felt a finger gently twirl her hair.

“Let me take care of him, pet.” She heard him whisper and she knew that she’s safe. She watched her friend straightened and made the scariest face she’s ever seen him make.

“What did I tell you about entering my domain unannounced Hatter!” He bellowed interrupting Jefferson’s tirade. Rumplestiltskin’s lips pulled to a snarl, he is doing everything he can in maintaining that facade but it dropped immediately when he heard Belle giggle at his performance. Damnation, the little witch made him soft.

“R-Rumplestiltskin!” Jefferson stuttered, the sudden appearance of the Dark One startled him.

“This little witch here is under my protection Hatter. So unless you’re looking for a way to abolish your efforts in becoming one of those pesky deities I dare you to scare her again.”

“I wasn’t scared.” Belle said, deciding to join in the conversation. Rumple scowled at her dejectedly and she sheepishly apologized for cutting short his fun. She watched him slumped at a tree like a sulking child and she let him be, knowing his spirits will be back later.

She glanced at Jefferson and she thought his head might get torn off from his neck because he was shaking it back and forth at her and the sulking imp. “Rumple didn’t turn you into a snail. You must be his friend.”

“I- He told you that?” She could sense that he was going to say something more so she stayed silent. “Of course! I am dear Rumple’s friend. Did you know that -

“Shut the lies Hatter.” Rumplestiltskin twittered, sulkiness all gone and the twittering imp is back.

“It’s getting late. I’m going home now.” Two heads turned on her direction, Rumple’s face crumpled but he nodded his ascent.

“Don’t worry Rumple, even if I’m not your best friend I still consider you mine.”

She faced her back to them, hiding her grin. She had only taken a few steps when she heard him wailing. “Belle!”

“Wait for me! I thought her name was Izzy?”

She ran deeper into the forest but this time she had a clear picture on where she is headed. She knows the way like the back of her hand, she knew home.

Belle squealed when Rumple caught her, he lifted her of the ground and they spin. Their laughter echoed and Jefferson watched them with curious eyes.

Rumple carried her on his back on the rest of the way to his castle, she kept chattering with him about her week although she avoided telling him that her classmates continued their name calling.

Jefferson joined in and occasionally replied. She could see that Rumple trusts him and Belle considered that he might make a good friend. But no matter how many friends she might have Rumple is her best and dearest friend.

“Off you go to the library, dearie. The books are waiting for you.”

It felt like he’s hiding something from her but his eyes sincerely pleaded for her to understand that he’s not to make her leave, perhaps when Jefferson leave Rumple will tell her. Belle beamed at him and the worry coloring his face faded. She ran off, unable to contain her excitement to read the new books Rumple has provided for her whenever she visited.

“You knew.” Jefferson cowed at him as he crowded Rumplestiltskin’s personal space. He jumped up and down like a child on his birthday but Rumple paid him no mind, his attention was solely focused on the fading image of the brave little witch walking away from them.

He snapped his fingers and a crimson smoke enveloped them. When the smoke receded a clawed hand shot out and slammed Jefferson to the wall.

“Rumple, you -” Jefferson choked and Rumplestiltskin’s fingers tightened on his throat.

“I am well aware that had I not intervened you would go and try serve her up in a silver plate to me again, Jefferson.” He growled, his golden eyes cracked with fury.

“But I only asked her to get the hat for me. No one can enter your pri-”

Rumplestiltskin almost crushed his windpipe before releasing him and Jefferson slumped at the wall, heaving deep breaths.

He tried connecting the pieces all together. Rumple is overprotective of the girl. The girl - Izzy trusted him. Rumple is letting her peruse his library full of magical tomes. Then it clicked to him.

“When Izzy and I first met I was wearing a disguise.” He stated but Rumple ignored him and continued browsing the cabinet, gathering ingredients for a potion he’s probably brewing.

He sighed and admitted to the accusations thrown at him earlier. “I know who she is Rumple. That’s why I sent her to you. Either she get me the hat or you killed her.”

Rumplestiltskin abruptly turned around, crooked yellow stained teeth barred.

“And what, dearie, are you hoping to get when you executed that little plan?”

“That you’ll help me.”

He tsks. “So you’ve gotten tired and decided to take the easy way out.”

“No that’s not-“

“I wonder what little Gracie would say.” He taunted Jefferson and the man fumed just as he expected.

“I was helping by giving Izzy to you. I didn’t expect to see her again alive and well and protected.”

“Hatter, what you knew about Belle will stay between us. No one of our world should become aware of her existence. If they had gotten wind of your interactions with her tell them you were trying to con her into getting that hat of yours but didn’t succeed.”

“Why?”

“She is under my protection, Jefferson.”

“But you could’ve been -“

His explanation was caught short when Rumplestiltskin threw the hat he was looking for. That hat opened passage ways to other realms. Rumplestiltskin giving it to him only means that the price is his silence about Belle.

“Be careful in using it.” He added. “If they caught you simply tell them that the Dark One gave it in exchange of a child you’ve conned.”

The door barged open, and to their astonishment, white rabbits went in and one even hopped inside the hat in Jefferson’s hands.

“Rumple, look! I summoned them and I had one perform a trick.”

Belle followed the rabbits inside, quite proud of what she’d achieved. “Well, what do you think?”

“I think me turning people and spirits into snails are still more amusing.” He replied blandly.

“You did great little rabbit!” Jefferson praised her, he got teary eyed because Belle’s enthusiasm reminded him of his Gracie. He bid them both goodbyes as he prepares the hat to jump back to his realm but before he could leave Belle called him back.

“Thank you for sending me to Rumple’s castle to get your hat, Jefferson.”

He glanced at Rumplestiltskin, his eyes steely, body tense as he waited for Jefferson’s response.

“You take care of our sulky imp then, Izzy!”

They watched Jefferson hop inside the hat and disappeared along with it. Belle held onto Rumple’s hand while she raised her free one, then she murmured an incantation and the rabbits thrashing the lab vanished from sight.

“Very good, pet.” She heard his praise and the pride in his tone. Belle tried stifling her yawn but Rumple’s enhanced hearing caught it. “Time to go home.”

“This is home. I want to stay with you.” He chuckled and bent down to carry her in his arms. “You’re growing heavy, this castle spoils you too much.”

“I think the master likes me well enough to feed me.” She threw back at him as they made their way down the stairs. “I’m serious Rumple. I want to stay and never leave.”

“I thought you want to travel, pet.”

“Being with you is already an adventure.” Her voice was slightly muffled due to her burying her head in his neck. He smelled of spice, wood, and magic and it soothes her more.

A crimson smoke enveloped them and teleported them to Belle’s room. There he gently laid her in the bed and tucked her in. After he made sure of the wards he’d enforced around her house was strong he leaves.

His remembered Jefferson asking him if he knew as the golden scales that covered him receded and gave way to the pinkish skin of mortals. Then whisky brown replaced his gold flecked amber eyes when he breathed one word

“Yes.”

#group black #finish this #rumbelle #thespinningmeanie

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therumbellehappyendingaward-blog · 6 years

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Chapter 5 writer; @mrs-stiltskin

PROMPT: SUCCESS

AO3: HERE

A/N: I know nothing of pregnancy or pregnancy complications, so please forgive any glaring errors or omissions. I am no expert and all research was done hastily on google to complete the story.

Placental abruption. Grade Two. Intermediate. Mother and child critical.

They were the most frightening words Rumplestiltskin could remember hearing in centuries, and they echoed in his ears like a death knell. How many times would his loved ones have to pay the price for his lifetimes of darkness? Hadn’t they suffered enough? He couldn’t lose them. As true as it was centuries ago, it was just as true now. If he lost his wife and child, he would truly, truly become dust.

Rumplestiltskin had managed to conjure all three of them to the Emergency Room of Storybrooke General, but everything after appearing near the admissions desk in a swirling cloud of purple smoke was hazy and insubstantial. It had taken both David Nolan and Emma Swan and a team of orderlies to restrain he and Gideon from rushing in to be with Belle. Let the doctors work, they’d said. There was still a chance, but the doctors needed room to work.

Did they know who the fuck Whale was, by all the gods?

The code was spoken in calm, clinical detachment over the hospital intercom and in moments, Whale and the others were a blur of frenetic activity around her. Motion and sound and barked orders and personnel scurrying to obey. Alarm bells. Claxons. And blood. So much blood. Belle, his beautiful Belle, her life force ebbing away in blossoming stains of warm crimson on cold, white hospital sheets, perfectly still and serene at the center of a maelstrom. She might have been sleeping if it weren’t for the tubes and wires and blinking lights.

“Father,” Gideon hissed, his eyes wide with panic, “do something! They’re going to lose her!”

Rumplestiltskin’s face crumpled, “What can I do? Any magic will have a price. A price we won’t understand until it’s paid!” He practically spat the words. With all his vast magic, he was still powerless to save the woman who was his whole world from her fate. His beloved Baelfire had paid the ultimate price the last time he had meddled in life and death matters. He could not allow the rest of his family to suffer the same fate. He considered if it was possible to give his own life for theirs, but he needed time to devise a spell. Time was exactly what they didn’t have.

He looked up, his eyes frantic. “A sleeping curse! I can put her under a sleeping curse!”

“Father, no!” Gideon caught him, hands fisted in Rumple’s shirt as he dove for the door to her room. “No. I know you could wake her, but we both know that won’t work here. It won’t stop the bleeding, it won’t help Mother or the baby! You know there must be a trade. A blood sacrifice.”

Father and son stared at each other for a long moment, Gideon still clutching fistfuls of his father’s lapels. They were holding each other up and grounding each other at the same time. The mask of pain on Gideon’s face suddenly melted into complete calm. A countenance of serenity Rumplestiltskin had never seen on his troubled son since his rescue from the Black Fairy, and it sent a ripple of fear coursing through his body.

“Son? Gideon?”

“It’s me.” His eyes went unfocused and he swayed in Rumple’s grip. “Mother and the baby must live, I will be the conduit. The sacrifice.”

“No!” Rumple dug his fingers into Gideon’s arms, dragging him back even as Gideon turned to look at the room where his mother and sibling lay.

“I can do this. I am magic. A child of True Love and a savior.” Gideon looked down at his father, a twisted smile on his lips. “This is my destiny.”

“Gideon, no,” Rumple whispered, clutching at his beautiful boy. “No, I’ll find a way. I can’t lose you, son. I love you!”

“I know, Papa, and I love you, too.” He looked down at his father with love in his eyes, but his voice broke on the words. “But as much as I’ve tried, we’ve tried, I can’t get over the things the Black Fairy did to me. The things she made me do.” He shook his head, his whole body trembling. Tears rolled down his cheeks, but his voice was stronger. “I don’t want to live with this pain anymore. It consumes me. I’m sorry, I know you and Mother really tried to help me move on.”

“I’ll turn you back, son. To a baby. I’ll do it.” Rumple begged, his voice rising in pitch. “And I’ll find a way to save them!”

“There’s no time,” Gideon answered. His voice was steady now, though tears still rolled down his cheeks. “I don’t blame you. Either of you. Tell Mother I love her.”

“Gideon, no. Please.” Rumplestiltskin sobbed, collapsing to hands and knees on the floor as Gideon broke free of his grasp, striding purposefully for his mother’s bedside. Magic shot from his fingertips, tendrils of energy pushing aside the doctors and nurses working on Belle and freezing them in place. Silence blanketed the room. He gazed down at her, ghastly pale but so utterly peaceful, unaware of the turmoil that swirled around her, her life’s blood slipping away with every ticking second.

Gideon took her small, delicate hand in his, and leaned down to press a kiss to her cool brow. “I love you, Mother,” he whispered. Light like molten gold poured from Gideon, surrounding them in a halo of light and magic.

The crackle of electricity and the smell of ozone reached Rumple’s senses and he let out a howl of anguish that echoed through the silent, sterile hallway. He scrambled to his feet, determined to reach his son. His wife. His unborn child. His family. Everything slowed to a glacial pace as he struggled against Gideon’s stasis spell, their fates hanging in the balance, a knife edge that would determine just how much they would lose.

Rumplestiltskin watched in horror as his son’s life force poured into Belle, Gideon’s face contorted in deep concentration, their hands clasped together. Rumple sprang into action. He could not allow Gideon to do this. He placed his hands over theirs, his magic joining with Gideon’s. Purple energy cracked and spit, the snap and pop of lightning pushing back against the golden aura. Gideon’s eyes snapped to Rumple’s, and he shook his head, pushing back.

Rumplestiltskin redoubled his efforts, he would not allow his son to sacrifice himself. It was Rumple’s responsibility to protect his family, and he would do it, no matter the cost. He would force a way if he could not find it! He gripped Gideon’s hand, locking eyes and willing him to understand. His last act would be to save Belle and the baby and leave Gideon the infant he so wished to be. Belle would have two children to love, and he hoped she would tell them how much their Papa had loved them.

“Gideon. Let me help,” Rumple pleaded. “Let me in! Together we are stronger. Together we are more than our individual magic. I can help you.”

Gideon nodded, relaxing, allowing Rumplestiltskin’s magic to join with his own. The purple and gold coalesced into a swirling mass, Gideon’s eyes going wide in realization as he wrested control back from his father. He would not be stopped! The light surrounded him, flashing outward in a blinding spray of sparks. Embers drifting lazily to land on Rumplestiltskin as he collapsed against the bed with a wail of utter sorrow, slumping to the floor as activity once again returned to the room. Gideon was gone. He’d failed to save his son.

Success, it seemed was doomed to be forever beyond his grasp.

He clawed his way back up the bed to look at Belle. The doctors and hospital staff were standing around, unsure of what to do. He gazed down at what their son had bought them. Belle’s color flushed and pink, her breathing steady, the machines surrounding them beeped in the sedate pattern of normalcy, but her eyes remained closed. A fair storybook princess captive in her somnolent repose. A sob escaped him and he clutched her unconscious form to his breast.

The immediate danger had passed, but the fact remained that Belle was unconscious and still in labor. He was aware of their hands on him, trying to tear him away so they could continue to work on her. Rumplestiltskin pushed them back with inhuman strength.

“Wait,” he commanded.

Whale and the others fell back. His eyes darted from Gold to Belle to David Nolan and Emma Swan who were also at the periphery. “Gold, she’s still in labor. We’re going to need to perform a caesarean if she doesn’t wake up.”

“She’s only at twenty-eight weeks,” Rumple pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be better for the baby if she carried to term?”

“That’s not possible.”

“Perhaps it is.” Rumplestiltskin gestured with his right hand, and the scent of ozone once again filled the room as a small vial of milky liquid materialized in his upturned palm.

“What is that?” Whale asked, eyeing the bottle. Emma gasped, visibly pale, and David’s eyes flickered between her and Gold.

“Emma?” Rumple gave her a small smirk, inclining his head. “Care to enlighten them?”

Emma swallowed hard, looking at Belle. “That’s the pregnancy acceleration potion.” Her voice shook, hands thrust in her pockets. “I used it on Zelena when I was the Dark One.” Whale shook his head, but the objection died on his lips when Emma spoke again.

“I think we should let him use it.”

“We don’t know that it’s safe,” Whale insisted.

“It’s safe.” Rumple pinned him with a look. “I wouldn’t be suggesting it if it weren’t.”

“I know it’s safe, Gold,” Emma said, putting a hand on his arm, “but what if Belle doesn’t want it?”

Rumplestiltskin looked at his wife and knew the answer in his heart.

“Then we shall ask her. Our son gave his life to save her and the baby. She will want to do everything to make certain it was not in vain.” Rumplestiltskin leaned down, gently tucking a tendril of chestnut hair behind her ear. He closed his eyes and willed the magic to work as he pressed his lips to hers. There was no outward sign, no shockwave of light or air, but as Rumple pulled back, Belle’s eyelids fluttered open, her lips curving into a gentle smile. Too soon, realization struck her and her eyes flew wide, her hands reaching frantically for her stomach.

“Our baby!” Belle gasped, her eyes seeking Rumple’s. He shushed her, placing his hands over hers, holding them to her bulging bump.

“Shh. Shh. Sweetheart, it’s fine, the baby is fine,” Rumple crooned, gentling her panic.

“Oh, Rumple!” Belle sobbed and he sat on the edge of the bed to hold her. “I thought I was losing the baby.” She dug her fingertips into his arms, sobbing, when a wave of contractions hit her. “Oh, no. No. Not yet. It’s not time.”

Rumple helped her breathe, gently explaining their situation, leaving out Gideon’s sacrifice. He would tell her later, after she and the baby were safe and her grief would not hinder the birth, but Belle saw the hidden anguish in his eyes. Her mother’s instinct strong and intact.

“Where’s Gideon?”

“Belle.”

“Where is Gideon?” Her voice rose in pitch, her eyes searching the room, the hallway outside. Counting the people in the room. “Tell me!” She shrieked, tearing at the sheets as though she would climb out of bed to look for him herself.

“Belle, sweetheart, I tried to stop him, but he was too powerful. Too determined.” He held her down, his arms steel bands around her flailing form as she sobbed and wailed, his own face streaked with hot, salty tears. “I tried to save all three of you, but he was a saviour and the magic was too strong. Belle, I swear to you, I tried to sacrifice myself. I tried to do the right thing, but I failed.”

“He did try, Belle.” Emma offered when Belle’s great, heaving sobs were overcome by another round of contractions. “Gold...”

Rumple pulled himself together, handing Belle the potion as soon as he’d helped her through the contraction. “Belle, you must deliver now. The potion can bring the baby to term. You know it works and is safe, but I leave the choice up to you.”

Belle’s unseeing eyes stared at the potion in her hands for a long moment. She thrust it back at him, her eyes and voice dull. “Do it.”

Rumple nodded, squeezing her hand, pouring the dose into a cup of water that Emma handed to him. She grimaced, but drank it down in a gulp, meeting Rumple’s eyes. “For Gideon,” she whispered. Rumple cupped her cheek, her eyes bright, his stinging with more unshed tears. Tears that could come later, when they were alone. When they had time to grieve.

“For Gideon.”

The rest was a whirl of activity again, Whale and his team taking over while Rumple held Belle’s hand and assisted her through the labor. Whale insisted on an epidural, in case anything went amiss and an emergency c-section was required, but the magic had proven true. After long hours of labor, a beautiful baby girl was delivered, and after a brief moment, a weak, but blessed wailing filled the room.

The new parents watched as they quickly cleaned her up, the nurses and doctors talking quietly amongst themselves, measuring and weighing and examining.

“What’s wrong?” Belle asked, her voice wavering. She caught Rumple’s sleeve, tugging. “Something’s wrong. Why aren’t they bringing her to me?”

Whale looked up and smiled. “No, everything’s fine. Your potion possibly didn’t work as intended. She’s a very small, only four pounds six ounces, and her APGAR indicates she is a little premature. Developmentally, she seems to be around thirty-four weeks and her lungs are slightly affected, but it’s nothing to worry about. A couple of weeks in the NICU on the CPAP and she’ll be just fine.”

Whale hesitated before speaking again, “There is something else, though.”

Belle started, squeezing Rumple’s fingers until he winced. “What is it?”

“You aren’t done, Mrs. Gold.” Whale cleaned up as the nurses whisked their baby girl to the NICU. Turning back to her, he lifted an eyebrow. “There’s another baby coming.”

“What! How?” Belle began, her eyes frantic, searching for Rumplestiltskin’s. His face was slack. His eyes bright.

“It can’t be…” he whispered, wonder and hope blossoming in his chest, his voice thick with emotion. “Could it possibly be? I tried to change the spell...”

“Oh, please…” Belle breathed, tugging him down until their foreheads touched. Every fiber of their beings focused on one, singular thought. “Please let it be him.”

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It was three weeks until they were allowed to take their babies home from the hospital. They’d practically lived there in the intervening time, spending as much time as possible holding and touching them. Both Belle and Rumple taking active roles in their feeding and care. Rumple surmised the potion had been split this time, taking both babies from 28 to 34 weeks gestation and giving them each a shorter NICU stay. By his magic or Gideons he wasn’t sure, but Belle didn’t care.

Belle was grateful. Grateful that she had taken not one child home from the hospital, as she had been expecting, but two. Two perfect, tiny, healthy babies. A tiny, perfect girl. And a tiny, perfect boy. The moment she had seen his face, she’d burst into fresh tears, collapsing in damp exhaustion into Rumple’s strong arms.

“Is it?” Rumple had asked haltingly. He hadn’t seen Gideon’s face the first time around, but she had. She knew every line, every wrinkle. She knew the shape of his mouth and the exact color of his eyes. She knew the pattern his hair made on his tiny head.

“Yes.” She hugged Rumple tight, their foreheads pressed together, their tears mingling. “It’s Gideon!”

And now they were home, sitting in the nursery, Rumple cuddling his daughter, while Belle nursed Gideon. There were two cribs, two rocking chairs, two glittering mobiles of delicate blown glass unicorns, and two parents learning to cope with two headstrong, magical babies.

Belle sighed, smiling at the picture Rumple made, cooing silly faces and voices at the swaddled baby in his arms. He looked up at her. “Ready to switch?” She nodded.

“It’s time to go to your mum, Cassidy,” he crooned, bringing her to Belle’s chair. It was awkward, but they’d been getting better at the mutual handoff, and soon Cassidy was nestled at Belle’s breast and Gideon was getting his supplemental bottle from his Papa.

That night, Belle awoke to find Rumplestiltskin padding the floor with a fussy Gideon while his sister slept peacefully on. He stood at the window, bathed in violet moonlight, his growing hair stuck out at odd angles. He was bare to the waist, crumpled pyjama pants below, Gideon held against his chest as he rocked him, singing a soft Scottish lullaby. Her heart swelled with love. How could she have ever doubted his love for his family for a single moment. This devoted and loving father. She had no doubt that his magic had helped focus Gideon’s sacrifice and send him back to the womb to be reborn. A second chance. A second chance she thanked Gideon for as well. Even though she’d suffered through his birth twice!

Gideon was soon asleep and she watched Rumple lay him back in his bassinet. His soft cooing finally ceasing. “You’re awake,” he murmured as he joined her beneath the covers. She snuggled into his side, angling her face for a kiss that he was happy to oblige.

“I was just watching you with Gideon and enjoying our happy ending,” Belle whispered.

Rumplestiltskin crooked a finger, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. “Oh, no, sweetheart. This is no happy ending.” His fingers caressed her cheek, warm and soft and reverent. His eyes were bright, shining with tears, the smile that played about his lips soft and genuine.“This is our happy beginning.”

#mrs-stiltskin #rumbelle #finish this #group orange

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therumbellehappyendingaward-blog · 6 years

Text

Chapter 4 writer: @anotherhappybeginning

PROMPT: FAIRY

AO3: HERE

A/N Warning: Abuse/Torture, Heavily implied incest/rape, though nothing explicitly said. This is about the unscene stuff done to Gideon by the Black Fairy.

Rumpelstiltskin stared at his son, unable to find the right words. As a father, he was supposed to be there for his son, to keep him safe, protect him from evil, teach him, and watch him grow. He failed Baelfire in so many ways and was never allowed to make it up to him. Rumple tried so hard to get a second chance with Bae, and now he was dead. He lost Gideon to the Black Fairy, and now he was getting a second chance with Gideon. And Gideon wanted it to start over again.

Belle had shut down Rumple's idea of changing Gideon back, and Rumple realized how right she was. Now that's what Gideon wanted, so they should do that for him, right?

Could he really do that to his son? Really turn back the clock for him, erasing everything they been through. So Gideon would get a chance at happiness? So he could be raised alongside his sibling? So Rumple and Belle would get to raise him as their son?

Snow White and Prince Charming didn't get that opportunity, Maleficent or Geppetto didn't get the chance, and Rumple didn't get it to see Bae become a man. Should they get it?

Gideon chewed at his bottom lip, waiting for his father's answer. Gideon repeated himself, “Papa, can you do that? It would be so much easier, for all of us.”

Rumple and Belle shared a knowing glance, finally putting the pieces together. Whether or not Gideon wanted this, needed to start over, his father's words had an effect on him. This is what had him so quiet for weeks, why he seemed to be crawling back into his anti-social ways. Rumplestiltskin is the reason, the reason Gideon didn't want to continue as he was.

Belle saw her husband, the struggle he was feeling within, how conflicted he felt. She removed her hand from her stomach, carefully placing it on her husband's hand, squeezing it supportively.

“Gideon," Belle began, taking control of the situation, "This is a lot to ask of your father. I'm sure you've been thinking about this for a while, but this is something was all need to discuss, as a family."

"I don't want to discuss this. I want to start over," he told his mother, his voice cracking, "I don't want to remember. I don't want to be the Black Fairy's ward, who tried to kill the Savior, I don't want to be this version of me. I want to be raised by you, to grow up with my sibling, to be happy. I just want to be Gideon, your son."

"Gideon..."

Belle raised a hand slowly, carefully near his cheek, almost asking permission to touch. He always flinched at quick moments, which always pained Belle to see.

Her looking into his boy's eyes, as he accepted her touch, pressing his cheek to his mother's hand.

"Mother, do you understand?" Gideon asked, sounding so small, "Do you?"

She stared at her some for a long time, before finally saying, "I want to, Gideon, you need to know, you are always our son, no matter what."

As Gideon began to respond, Rumple finally found the courage to speak, asking his son;

“Is this because of what I said?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

"It wasn't just you Papa. Mothe-The Black Fairy, did so many things to me, made me do so many awful things. To others, with her, to her... I just want to forget."

Rumpelstiltskin looked away from his boy. He knew how it felt, wanting to forget it, to let it all go away. He didn't want to remember losing Bae, Zelena kidnapping him, his father abandoning him, he wanted it to all go away.

His heart will never heal from the loss of his first son. Would doing that to Gideon feel the same?

Should he even get to do that? Be allowed to.

"Gideon," Rumple started, trying to find his words, "I know, it seems so easy to ignore your pain, to try to make it go away. But sometimes, it better that keep it, try to understand it. The best way to move past your pain is to accept it. I can't promise it will all go away. You'll begin to remember eventually, maybe have nightmares of your old life. We... we still have time to talk about all this,” he grabbed his wife's hand, “as a family.”

…

They took their time. Together. All of them.

Gideon told his parents about his time in the Dark Realm. All of it, down to the gruesome details. How the Black Fairy used her kidnapped children as slaves. How she was always testing Gideon, grooming him, making him her special pet. The cruelty he was given. How he didn't know there was such a thing as a good fairy (Rumple argued that was true, but Belle shushed him). How she killed Roderick in front of him.

“I think I loved him,” Gideon told him, “I wanted to, at least.”

Their talks usually ended in tears, from all of them.

Time passed slowly. The baby continued along, growing well. It was very bossy, making Belle nauseous, some days she spent all day in bed, with her boys taking care of her.

Rumplestiltskin took care of his loves, and kept up his shop. One of the Charming bunch would occasionally force him to “help” with their “important” situations. Once he got done with that work, he would get home to. Belle and Gideon, cooking then a meal, and reminding Belle how beautiful she is, with or without her pregnant belly.

Gideon continued with his lessons, and continued his weekdays working in the shop. Rumple and Belle made sure, even if he wanted to start over, to not stop continuing his learning. On weekends, he spent his time at the library, with his mother, reading for entertainment and for research on magic and fairies. Talking about his time with the Black Fairy reignited his desperation to find the good in the world, making his want to see the upside to fairies, and the beauty of light magic.

As the months to went on, even with their long, painful talks, they were able to make the best of everything. Gideon began to be more social again, sometimes being the most talkative one at their dinner's at Granny's. Belle and Rumple were as romantic as ever, though keeping it appropriate in front of their boy.

After months or their ridiculous arguing, their countless break-ups and separations, it was easy to see how wrong they both were. In hindsight, it was easy to see their mistakes, and They both missed each other dearly, but were too busy fighting to understand how much they were still longing for one another.

Gideon loved seeing his parents that way. He still felt guilt over his time under the Black Fairy, and how he helped keep his parents apart. He wasn't quite sure what happened in the Dream realm, as he wasn't truly sentient, but he knew he had told to stay apart, like the Black Fairy wanted him to do.

Their trips to the clinic in Boston became family visits to the city, going to museums, parks, getting a full taste of the city. Gideon still was an odd in out, in the Land Without Magic, but tried his best to understand this world as much as he tried to learn about the Enchanted Forest.

And finally months on, of a routine, of some type of normality, and it everything seemed to be looking up.

Then Belle was twenty-eight weeks along.

It all seemed fine, they were spending the evening in, the Gold family reading in the den. Belle sat on the couch, leaning against her husband while she read. Gideon sat on the floor, once more reading Her Handsome Hero, fidgeting as he did when he got to his favorite part.

Belle tried to focus on her book, but struggled to ignore her cramps in her lower belly. They had been bothering her all day, but she tried to not think anything of it. Her last check was only a week ago, and their baby was coming along well. Belle wanted the baby's gender to be a surprise, and decided against the reveal f it.

Belle winced a bit, the pain increasing below her waist. Rumple noticed her pain, giving her a worried look, but Belle silently shook it off, not wanting to worry him.

Gideon didn't seem to notice the voiceless conversation, putting down his book, looking up at his parents.

“Mother, Papa, I think I've made my decision, I really want to-” He stopped himself, realising his mother was in pain, “Mother, are you okay?”

Belle, nodded the pain making in difficult to speak.

“Belle, let me help,” Rumple panicked, “let me heal you or take you to the hospital, please-”

His thoughts couldn't be finished. As Belle began to topple over. As she fell, Gideon and his father were able to help her down, gently. They both instantly noticed the blood, stained on her dress and then couch.

It was much worse than they imagined. Belle let out a wail in pain.

Dimple, without thinking, poofed them to Storybrooke General.

It became a whirlwind of confusion, doctors and nurses, rushing Belle to a room, with her screams, with her blood, and Rumple and Gideon forced back into the waiting room.

Gideon stared blankly at the wall, deep in thought, worried for his mother and her child.

Rumplestiltskin made a silent prayer. He couldn't lose another child, he couldn't lose Belle again.

He begged for them to live.

Both of them.

#group orange #finish this #rumbelle #anotherhappybeginning

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therumbellehappyendingaward-blog · 6 years

Text

Chapter 3 writer: @celticheartedfangirl

PROMPT: DEATH

AO3: HERE

“Sweetheart, you need to eat something,” Rumpelstiltskin said as they sat in their dining room at home. After waiting at the shop for about an hour, they decided to return to the house and have something to eat. Belle sat at the table picking at her food, barely taking a bite.

“I’m not hungry,” Belle replied.

“He’ll come home. I left a note at the shop, he knows we came back here.” Belle set down her fork and looked up at her husband.

“How is he ever going to be a normal young man, Rumple? How? After everything he’s been through. He doesn’t know how to – how to have any kind of normal, adult relationship. Rumple, he’s a child in the body of a grown man and that’s all my fault.”

“Belle, there’s plenty of blame to go around between both of us.”

“Rumple, be honest with me – do you really think that this is something Gideon can overcome? Being raised by that – that horrible woman.” Rumpelstiltskin looked down and sighed. Belle reached out across the table and took his hand. “I’m sorry, I – I know she was your mother but –”

“She was the woman who birthed me. I don’t have a mother. Or a father. I never did. But our child – our child will have both.”

“It’s just not fair to him. This child will have everything Gideon should have had.” Belle paused for a moment. “Rumple, what about those children? The ones in the Dark Realm? Can we help them?”

“Belle, I – I don’t know how to tell Gideon this, but – when we stopped the Black Fairy, those children, they – Belle, her realm is gone. And so are they. I have no idea what happened to them, and finding them would be a futile task.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gideon asked, speaking up from behind. Belle immediately jumped out of her chair and ran to him.

“Gideon! Oh, we were so worried for you. Come on, have some dinner.” Gideon gently pushed his mother aside and sat down at the table with his father.

“Papa – is what you said true?”

“I’m afraid it is, son. I’m sorry. I thought perhaps there would be a way to help, but – I’ve looked into it and – there isn’t.”

“You mean they – they’re all dead?” Gideon asked.

“I don’t know. I’m very sorry son, but – most likely – yes.”

Gideon began to cry, and his father pulled the young man into a hug. “Maybe they’re not. Maybe – maybe they went back to their rightful homes.” Gideon stammered.

“That’s a nice thought. It’s the best we can hope for. Gideon, without their blood and belongings there’s no way to trace them or know their fate. I’m very sorry.”

“Gideon, please have some dinner,” Belle said, setting a plate in front of her son.

“You need to finish yours too,” Rumpelstiltskin commented. Gideon ate his dinner quietly and Belle finished hers as well.

“So what do we do now?” Gideon asked after dinner was finished.

“We find a way to live our lives,” Belle said.

“Mother, how – how are you having a child so soon? I don’t understand.”

“Gideon, this baby is – your twin. Somehow when my pregnancy was accelerated – you were the only one affected. We think it’s a fraternal twin, so – it could be a boy or a girl,” Belle told him.

“Gideon, your mother is going to be fine. I’m going to arrange to have her seen by a doctor in Boston to make sure of it, I’ll make some calls tomorrow.”

“Boston? Rumple, since when are we going to Boston?”

“Do you think I’m going to allow Dr. Frankenstein to give the sole medical opinion on the well being of a child that has already been through enough trauma in utero? Is that really what you want, or would you prefer someone who was actually educated in this sort of thing in a non-magical realm?”

“Papa, can I come too?” Gideon asked. “I’d like to see Boston.”

“Um – do I get a vote here?” Belle asked.

“Would you prefer New York? Chicago? I don’t care what city it is, but we are doing this.” Belle sighed.

“I suppose you’re right. Boston is fine with me.”

…

“Well, everything looks fine, you’re about two months along,” the doctor said as she turned off the sonogram machine.

“Good. That’s good,” Rumpelstiltskin said as he held her hand.

“I knew everything would be fine, Mother,” Gideon agreed. The doctor gave Gideon an odd look.

“My – my son is very fond of his step-mother. His mother left us when he was a baby and I didn’t – I didn’t really date much until I met Belle. She’s really the only mother he’s known,” Rumpelstiltskin stated.

“Okay,” the doctor said, a puzzled look remaining on her face. “Anyhow – you need to schedule regular checkups for the next seven months, they’ll take care of all of that at the front desk.”

“Oh – we’re not –” Belle began.

“We haven’t gotten fully settled in Boston yet,” Rumpelstiltskin interrupted. “As soon as we do, we’ll schedule those appointments.”

“Alright – well make sure you check in with your other doctor then. I’ll leave your paperwork at the desk.” The doctor left the room, and Belle sat up on the examination table.

“Papa – why did you say she’s not my real mother?” Gideon asked.

“Gideon – they don’t understand magic in this land. You are – not possible. It’s not possible for your mother to have a biological son your age.”

“Oh,” Gideon replied, unsure of what to say.

“Gideon, can you please go wait for us in the waiting room?” Belle asked.

“Yes, mother.” Gideon left the room, and Belle took off the gown they had given her and started to get dressed.

“You know, I thought perhaps we could settle here – at least until the child is born – but I’m not sure that will be possible with Gideon,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“Why not?” Belle asked.

“Belle, he – yes he’s adjusting to his new life but – he doesn’t understand this world. He’s had no real schooling, no real parenting – I’m not even sure he could find a job, what is he qualified to do?”

“Well, I – I can teach him.”

“It won’t be the same. Belle, what kind of life is he meant to have? He doesn’t know how to have even the most basic interpersonal relationship.”

“Neither do you,” Belle quipped.

“Very funny. Belle, maybe it would have been better if I had changed him back.”

“To a baby?”

“Yes. Give him a fresh start, let him be raised right. Let him be raised with his brother or sister, like he was meant to.”

“Rumple, don’t you dare do that to him. You have no right, don’t you dare do that to our son.”

“I didn’t say I would do it. I just – I think it would have been easier.”

“For who?”

“All of us.” As Rumpelstiltskin helped Belle finish getting dressed, Gideon stood outside the door, listening to every word. He tried to stop himself from crying as he slunk out into the waiting room.

…

Gideon was unusually quiet over the next several weeks. He went to the shop with his father during the day, and Rumpelstiltskin proudly taught his son the inner workings of his shop. In the evenings, his mother worked with him on projects similar to what he would have learned in school if he’d been given a chance for a proper education. He was eager to keep pace with every task they gave him during this time, but limited his conversation with them. It didn’t bother Belle and Rumpelstiltskin for the first few days after their return from Boston, but after several weeks they began to wonder what was upsetting their son so much that he had become a bit emotionally detached from them.

“Gideon did well on his assignments this week,” Belle said as she and Rumpelstiltskin snuggled into bed. “He’s almost at high school level in reading. He’s so smart.”

“Just like his mother,” Rumpelstiltskin replied. “He’s doing well with the business too. He seems to like numbers very well. I think by next month he’ll be ready to take over all of the bookkeeping duties.” They were quiet for a moment.

“Why do you think he’s so detached? Ever since we got back from Boston – it’s like he took ten steps forward in adapting but twenty backward in communicating with us. I think we need to have a talk with him.”

“Perhaps he’s just worried about you and the baby and doesn’t know what to do with that. He’ll open up when he’s ready.” Just as Rumpelstiltskin said that, a knock came upon their bedroom door.

“Mother? Papa? May I come in?” Gideon called out.

“Yes of course Gideon, come in,” Belle replied. Gideon entered the room as Rumpelstiltskin turned on the light.

“Is there something wrong, son?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“I – I need to talk to you about something. It’s something I’ve been thinking about since we got back home.”

“Come on Gideon, sit down,” Belle said, as she and Rumpelstiltskin sat up. Gideon sat down on the edge of the bed next to Belle.

“I – I know things are going to be different soon, when the baby comes, and – I don’t want to make it any harder on you than it has to be.”

“Gideon, what are you talking about? You’re doing so well, you’re learning so many things, and you’re going to be such a big help to us when the baby comes,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“Papa – I don’t want to be a help. And I don’t want to be a burden. I want to be your son.”

“Gideon – what are you saying?” Belle asked.

“When the baby comes – I want to go back. I know that things have been getting better for all of us, but – it’s not enough. I’m not sure it will ever be enough. Papa – when the baby comes – I want to go back. I want you to make me an infant again. I want you to raise me with my brother or sister. Can you do that, Papa?”

#celthicheartedfangirl #group orange #rumbelle #finish this

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therumbellehappyendingaward-blog · 6 years

Text

Chapter 2 writer; @thecompletebookworm

PROMPT: TIME

AO3: HERE

A/N: I actually haven't watched the show since somewhere in Season 4. I've attempted to get up to date with the Gideon/ Season 6 things, but it is after all, only a week when I have a job that's driving me crazy. I apologize if I messed up something crucial, but I guess we're already in AU zone since Gideon was successfully saved and we have this potential angst with a side of fluff and babies, so what's a little more AU. Basically what I'm saying is when I'm wrong about something in canon, please don't hate me.

Trigger Warning: Description of Panic Attack (To avoid skip part after “Whatever it is we can fix it” to section break.)

The walk from the library to the pawnshop had never felt longer. Even in her worry, Belle couldn't help but smile at the Gold and Son sign. It may have come from the Black Fairy's curse, but there was still something touching about the names together on the sign, her boys working together.

She pushed the door open trying to force a smile on her face.

"Mother!" Her son was the first one forward, his head darting up from his work as soon as the bell on the front door chimed. "Mother! I thought we weren't going to see you until lunch. Is something wrong?"

Gideon rushed over, hands already ready to support her if necessary but waiting until she gave her permission. Gideon craved physical contact but was seldom willing to ask for it. It was a reflex that she and Rumple were still working on, but it would take a lot more than freely given hugs and kisses to get over twenty eight years of neglect and abuse.

"I'm fine." The words felt small and untrue, but she pulled her sons arms around her anyway, allowing herself to lean back into his tall frame. She felt him relax and it gave her courage. Gideon didn't hate her. Not yet at least. Things with this baby would be fine. They would just take time.

Time she wasn't sure she had if she was honest with herself. She saw the worry in Rumplestiltskin's eyes, even if he tried to hide it. Belle wasn't sure if knowing the truth would actually help his worry, or if the addition of a fourth family member would send him over the edge.

Still she knew she couldn't keep the news a secret for long. It had been four hours at most since she found out about the baby and already she wasn't acting like herself. She had practically fled the library, leaving it unmanned and unlocked. It had been practically a miracle she'd remembered to grab a coat, but she supposed that was in part because keeping herself healthy had never seemed more important.

"Is it so wrong for me to miss my family in the middle of the day?" She gave Gideon a kiss on the cheek.

While she knew the baby couldn’t be a secret for long, seeing their faces made her realize she couldn't do this right now. She just needed a few moments, a little more time to center herself, to let herself get used to the idea of a baby.

It wasn't that the child wasn't wanted. Gods no. She already loved this baby with every ounce of her being. It was just unexpected and with life in Storybrooke already so up in the air it felt like too much to handle, more than she felt she could handle.

She hadn't realized she had started to cry before she felt her husband's hand wiping away the tears.

"Sweetheart, Everything is going to be okay. Whatever it is we can fix this."

Somehow that only made her cry harder. She couldn't even look at either of them anymore. Her entire body felt like it was out of her control now. She was shaking and she couldn’t breathe. Was

"Gideon help me get her to the cot in back"

Belle could hear them moving her, could feel her son’s hands around her, but she didn't feel like she was present any more. It was like they were doing it to someone else someone who didn't have earthshattering news for their family.

A million questions ran through her head as she tried to focus on actually getting some air. Maybe her inability to breathe wasn't coming from anxiety and something was actually was wrong with her. Was this the unspoken cost of the magic necessary to speed things along? Was her body betraying the baby right now? Hurting them instead of providing of safe shelter?

The questions racing through her head at a million miles a minute were only silenced by everything slowly fading to back.

She felt the hand first. A steady rhythm going through her hair, somehow anchoring her. Next she felt her head lying in the lap of her husband.

"Sweetheart?" His voice was so unsure; his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Belle forced herself into a sitting position and tried to look around. "Where's Gideon?"

Gentle hands pulled her back down onto his lap, before resuming their slow dance through her hair. "He's fine. I sent him to get Doctor Whale."

"No!" The word escaped her before she realized she said it.

Rumplestiltskin looked affronted. "Belle, we're worried. We're both terrified something is wrong. You haven't been yourself lately. You’re tired all the time and your stomach isn’t even tempted by Granny’s hamburgers. You need to let us help you."

When said like that, any hope of keeping the pregnancy to herself or just between Rumplestiltskin and her died.

"I'm scared." The words were barely audible in the quiet shop.

The hand paused in her hair. “Belle, even after all this time, you are the bravest, most remarkable person I know. It’s okay to be scared, but you have to face the problem. You taught me that.”

His eyes were so earnest and pleading. They had agreed on no more secrets and she couldn’t resist anymore.

“I’m pregnant.”

She studied his face as the emotions flooded across it. His worry changed to confusion and then to love and wonder.

Rumplestiltskin placed a hand against her still flat stomach, as if he could feel the babe growing in it already. Then he leaned forward to capture her lips in a kiss that was practically reverent.

“That’s wonderful. But how?” He bashfully avoided meeting her eyes. Obviously he knew how. He’d always been an enthusiastic participant. But she knew what he meant. They hadn’t exactly been in a bedroom state of mind recently. Between helping Gideon and rebuilding the trust in their relationship, it never felt like the right time. Plus the pain that had still lingered from an expedited birth could certainly put a damper on even the most romantic of intentions.

“That was my first thought too.” She whispered. Belle tried not to focus on the hand ghosting over her abdomen making this feel real. “I looked in the library-“

“Naturally,” Rumplestiltskin chuckled before pressing kisses into her hairline.

She hummed in pleasure at his actions. It was easy to forget she had ever been worried when he seemed so ready to shower her and the baby with affection. Of course, the bigger and more unpredictable challenge was still to come.

“And I think the Evil Queen didn’t use enough magic to speed up my pregnancy.”

She felt Rumplestiltskin tense beneath her at the memory of the terrible time, of how he missed his second sons birth, of how she wouldn’t even tell him Gideon’s name, of the blatant fear on her face.

Belle hurried on with her explanation trying to keep them in the present. “If you’re having fraternal twins, you need more magic. Of course I don’t know much about magic, but that seems to be about right, I mean larger cost and all.” She was babbling, but really couldn’t stop herself. It felt easier if she got it all out at once.

“And maybe I shouldn’t even be calling them fraternal twins, it could be super-, superf-” She should have brought her notes from the library, because even as she tried to explain it was like her mind was blank.

“Sweetheart,” He grabbed her hand, trying to keep herself from getting too worked up again. “You’re not doing this alone anymore. We can figure this out together.”

“So you’re not mad?” Even though Rumplestiltskin seemed excited, she couldn’t help but ask. She needed to.

She knew this pregnancy dragged up so many regrets and fears. If there had been no Black Fairy, no Evil Queen, they would have had two lovely children, with the language of twins all their own. They would have decorated a nursery and switched out the cribs for bunk beds eventually. There would have been laughter as their house was made the castle or pirate ship or dragon’s den for countless playtimes. But that was a time stolen from them, an illusion that she needed to give up on to give both her children an opportunity to be themselves and not her silly idolized version of them.

Rumplestiltskin’s arms tightened around her. “I could never be mad about this. Having a family with you was all I ever wanted.”

There was so much sadness laced in those words. So many memories of the times she’d doubted that, of times when his quest for power to protect that dream sabotaged it.

Belle began to fiddle with her wedding ring to give herself something to focus on.

“I just don’t know how to tell him. Without you I’d certainly mess up telling Gideon I was pregnant.”

There was a crash behind them and Belle lifted herself off Rumplestiltskin’s lap to see the source of the commotion.

Gideon was staring blankly at them, a tea tray smashed on the floor in front of him.

“Pregnant?” His voice was shaking.

Belle tried to pull her son into an embrace, to hold him as they sorted things out, but he pulled away from her.

“No! This can’t be happening now! You said you would help me! You said you’d help me free the children still stuck in the Dark Realm!”

Every word felt like a stab. She knew things wouldn’t go well, but she thought it would be her son’s insecurity in his place in this family that caused all the problems not his desire to be a hero that was so much like hers.

“Gideon! Wait!” Her shouts were only greeted by the slam of the shop’s front door.

She turned to look back at Rumplestiltskin, who staring at his cane intently seemed much calmer than he had any right to be.

Belle tried to pull him off the cot to help her chase down their son, but he merely waved a hand and repaired the tea set Gideon had dropped.

“What are you doing? We have to go after him!”

He gave her a weak smile. “No, sweetheart, that would only be chasing him away.”

Belle reluctantly sat down on the bed next to him, leaning into him as if she could absorb all his calm and parental knowledge.

“He needs time to come to terms with it.” Rumplestiltskin squeezed her hand. “I think we all do. We just have to remember. This isn’t like last time.”

Even as he said it, Belle heard the slight waver in his voice that meant Rumplestiltskin was trying to convince himself as well.

#group orange #finish this #rumbelle #thecompletebookworm

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