Archive of Our Own

Belle emerged from the cabin of the Eladia Isabel onto the deck carrying Gideon, who was sleeping reclined on her shoulder. The sun was beating the wavy surface of the Rio de la Plata with all the strength it could have at nine o'clock in the morning of a 24th December. Rumplestiltskin stood against the railing, a few feet away. His sight was lost on the horizon and the locks of his hair moved slightly on the gentle breeze. Belle approached him slowly.

“Hey”

"Hey," he said, turning towards her. His serious countenance gave way to a warm smile when he saw the face of his wife and his sleeping son. Every time he looked at them he told himself that they were more than he deserved and far more than what he would have ever dreamed of having.

Belle reached out and, sighing, stroked his hair.

"It's taking forever to grow back," she said, to distract him from his thoughts.

"Well, you know what they say," he answered, tilting his head and giving her an intense look.

With a giggle, Belle tangled her fingers in the few inches long locks and pulling down gently, kissed him.

When they pulled away, he took Gideon in his arms and Belle rested happily her head on his shoulder.

“I still cannot believe this is a river. You can’t see the other shore, not even from here.”

"Well, the color of the water doesn’t make one think of the ocean, precisely," he said with a sly smile.

Belle turned her face to look at him and sighing with feigned indignation, answered:

“You know? It has that color because of the sediment that it drags from the source. It looks dirty, but is full of life. And,” —she added triumphantly— “the same thing that makes it ugly under the midday sun makes it unique at sunset.”

That said, she rested her head on her husband's shoulder again. Rumplestiltskin laughed very quietly, so as not to wake Gideon and kissed her head. In return, she squeezed his arm. Several minutes passed before Belle said:

“Rumple…”

As if by muscle memory, his face became unreadable.

"I know what you're thinking about," —she added— "But as long as we stay in this realm, it can’t influence you.”

“I know. But…” —His voice cracked— “What if one day I go insane? Storybrooke will never be far enough.”

He rested his chin on his chest and Belle, raising her hand, stroked his face and made him look at her with those hurt, brown eyes of his:

“You are not alone, Rumple. Gideon and I are with you. Don’t be afraid. We’ll find a solution for this. I promise.”

“And I want to believe it, I really want to.”

"That's all I'm asking of you right now," she said with a big smile and added:

“Let's go inside. It's been hours since the last time we ate anything.”

“Who was the one that said: ‘Nothing looks so bleak after a cup of tea?’”

She tugged on his arm and the three of them disappeared under deck.

***

When Belle returned from the bar with two cups of tea, one of juice and several biscuits on a tray, she found her husband asleep, his breathing rhythmic to Gideon's. That was one of the most noticeable differences in him between Storybrooke and the Land Without Magic: it took him almost nothing to fall asleep and his sleep was usually sound, except for some dreadful nightmares he had from time to time. Belle sat in front of them and devoted herself to contemplating them in silence. Scenes like these were like a balm on the memories of so many nights of awaking to the solitude of a cold and empty bed. Several minutes passed and Belle herself was slowly falling asleep. Suddenly, the cell phone of another passenger of the first class rang, waking them up. After having eaten and talked for a while, they realized that there was no more than half an hour to go before the ship’s arrival. Gideon jumped at the thought of being on deck, so there went the three of them, and they stood on the railing until the ship docked and it was time to get off.

It was almost noon when they finally left the terminal and went to look for the inn they had reserved. Rumple would have preferred a hotel of some importance, if not the best hotel that the small town of Colonia del Sacramento could offer them, but Belle had wanted something smaller and more familiar, close to the port and the old town. " Your wish is my command, Mrs. Gold, " he had said and proceeded to look for what was asked of him. After all, if they had fled from Buenos Aires it was because they wanted to spend a quiet and intimate Christmas away from the hubbub of the big city.

After walking a few blocks under a sun that cracked the earth, they finally found the inn and sighed with relief as they crossed the threshold of the door and discovered that the temperature was noticeably lower inside. Two low wooden chairs and a small coffee table, on which rested a vase full of gardenias that filled the room with their perfume, made up the totality of the furnishing of the reception. While they waited for someone to attend to them, Belle explored the room with her eyes. The walls, covered with a rustic plaster and painted with lime, supported a wooden beam roof. Artificial pine garlands and strings of little bells hung from the braces and on the main counter, a Christmas Father dressed in his classic suit guarded a bowl of candy. Belle couldn’t quite get used to the funny contrast of the high temperatures with typical winter decorations: plastic pine everywhere, dolls dressed in thick coats, artificial snow or simulated with cotton, sledges, reindeer, decorations in the shape of ice crystals...

At last, a middle aged woman who seemed to be the owner of the place appeared behind the counter. Not without a bit of trouble, she found the reservation and led them to their room, chatting animatedly along the way —as animatedly as her half English and Belle’s half Spanish allowed—  about the pleasant weather of the last few days and the tourist attractions of the place. Entering the room, she headed to the window that was to the right of the double bed and began to open it and draw the curtains.

“You can’t miss the promenade. It is convenient to see it early, because, the sunset, better to see it from the Paseo de San Gabriel. It seems that we will have a clear sky tonight. You're lucky. If you pay attention, once the night has fallen, you can see the lights of Buenos Aires from there”

When Belle guessed that the lady had finished her tirade, she replied with the kindest smile she could produce:

“Well, thank you very much.”

The woman headed to the door.

“I think that's all. Oh!” —She stopped at the threshold— “We’ll be celebrating until about 3:30 tonight, but if it is not too much trouble, I’d ask you to be back here before then. If you want to celebrate with us, you’ll be very welcome, of course.”

“Oh, well, thank you very much. We will take it into account.” Replied Belle with a smile and a slight nod.

"I´ll leave you alone, then," the woman finished, closing the door behind her.

“How late does she think we're going to be outside with a two-year-old?” Rumple asked amused.

"I don’t know," said Belle, who was busy picking an outfit from one of the suitcases and placing the essential toiletries on the night table.

“It would be better if you shower first, before the cold water runs out.”

“And leave only hot water for you?”

“I'm used to hot. I think I prefer it.” He said, raising his eyebrows slightly and approaching his wife. Gideon intervened.

“Hot. Don’t like.”

Belle and Rumple burst into laughter and she took the clothes and went to the bathroom. After everyone was ready and Belle had convinced her husband to put on a light suit and leave the vest at the inn, they went out in search of a place to eat.

The sun was plunging over the gate of the citadel doorway, the old woods of the drawbridge exuding their typical smell under the heat. After taking several photos at the doorway and next to one of the canyons that still dominated the wall, they took one of the narrow cobbled streets in search of the central square. It didn’t take them long to find it. Long rows of tall plane trees surrounded the square and the adjacent streets, creating a cool gallery under which a gentle breeze blew. The citadel seemed deserted, except for a few tourists and some locals. The three went to a food house in front of the square and sat at one of the tables arranged on the cobblestones of the street. Taking the waiter’s suggestion, they ordered a typical dish: chivito.

They ate in silence for several minutes, enjoying the cool breeze and the singing of the monk parakeets and parrots that populated the treetops. From time to time one or another bird would fly down in hopes of getting some crumbs.

The idea of spending Christmas in Colonia del Sacramento came to Belle when she was looking for information about places to visit in the surroundings of Buenos Aires. The reviews spoke of an old, quiet place, with a wide promenade. When she asked the concierge of the hotel where they were staying, she confirmed the information and added that the crossing of the river on the slow ferry was very enjoyable and that, even if you couldn’t quite see Buenos Aires from the other shore during the day, you could see its lights by night.

Rumple, who was staring out at the sea, that could be glimpsed a few blocks away, yawned between his teeth. Belle smiled. Weaknesses —or, better said, everyday things— like that she couldn’t see in Storybrooke, where the magic of the Dark One covered the fatigue, the sleepiness and the wear and tear of the years. Leaving his state of self-absorption, he returned to make silly faces at Gideon, who was focused on the birds.

“Bird!”

“Yes, it's a bird, Very good! What color is it?”

The boy thought for a while.

“Green!”

“Excellent! And what are these green birds called?”

Gideon frowned and after a few seconds looked at his mother.

“Parrot. It's called parrot.”

“Pawoot”

"Par-rot" Rumple corrected him with a smile, remarking the syllables.

"Par-rot," Gideon repeated, correctly this time.

“Very good!” His parents said in unison.

“good! good!” he clapped.

“Now. What do we go to see next? The old houses? The boats?”

Gideon thought for a few seconds again.

“Ehhh ... Boats!”

"So be it," Rumple said.

And so it was. After paying for the food and leaving a generous tip for the waiter, they went to visit the pier of the yacht port. Gideon happily pointed with his finger the small sailboats moored on the pier and others that were navigating slowly the calm waters of the river. He was a little sad though, when his parents couldn’t find anyone to take them on a ride in one of those boats.

Then they went through the narrow streets, until they reached the basilica, and from there they went to the convent of San Francisco, although they did not go up to the lighthouse, because small children were not allowed there. Even if the museums were closed, Belle found a way to have a little adventure: visiting the chimney of an old brick factory, she found what looked like the door to a basement. Stung by curiosity, she went down, followed by a worried husband and a smiling son. At the end of the story it turned out to be nothing but an access to an underground jetty for the  barges that carried raw material for the factory. However, Belle took pictures there, like she did at each stop along the way. The walk took them then through other steep streets of very irregular cobblestones. In several of them, old cars, which now functioned as giant pots full of plants, were parked.

"You should put one of these in front of the shop," Belle commented as she posed. Rumple smiled as he took out the photo from the polaroid and shook it in the air. In a blink, Belle dragged him up the street, pushing Gideon's stroller with her free hand. As they turned a corner, they heard the chords of a bandoneon playing on the quiet of the afternoon. Belle and Rumple exchanged knowing glances.

One of the first things they had done once the Black Fairy's curse was broken was to sign up for couples therapy with Archie. As a complement to the treatment, the psychologist had suggested them to learn to dance tango.

“I'm not necessarily talking about stage tango. I mean, if you want that too it’s fine, but you don’t have to. What I'm trying to say is that it's a type of dance that requires a lot of communication, verbally while learning and practicing, and at a corporal level while dancing. I think it can help you a lot with this issue.”

The couple had stared at him with wide eyes and the psychologist's face had turned the same color of his hair.

“Well…” He had added with a nervous smile “Ballroom dance is... one of my hobbies. It helps reduce stress.”

Archie's advice had been effective. In the time they had been practicing, they had learned things from each other that they had barely imagined, and as a whole the communication between them had improved remarkably. Rumple had surprised himself, in the middle of the embrace of the dance, making confessions he never thought he could force out of his lips.

“She forced me to undress completely in front of her. Many times. To 'enjoy his doll', she said” —he had said once, as if talking about the weather.

The answer, whispered in his ear, had been:

"I still have nightmares of the day my father told Smee to send me over the town line.”

Many other confessions followed those, confessions of old scarrings and of more recent ones; confidences not only of the damage they had received from others, but also of the pain they had inflicted on each other; and this, instead of tearing them apart, made their bond even stronger.

That’s perhaps why their faces lighted up at the sight of the old man who, seated in a chair of carmica in the shadow of the bougainvillea that grew against the doorframe of his house, played tangos on his bandoneon. They watched him as he played Adiós Muchachos , but as soon as the first measures of La Cumparsita stroke the air, Rumplestiltskin, taking Belle's hand and kissing it, asked:

“Care to dance, Mrs. Gold?”

Belle smiled and locked Gideon's stroller next to the bandoneon player, a few feet away from the spot in which they were standing.

His right hand went to her waist, her left to the base of his neck, the other two, intertwined. Torso against torso; just eight steps,alternated, repeated, not very long, not very fast, nothing fancy, but, Did it matter, if that embrace cheek to cheek, all tenderness and passion, all "forgive me" and "I love you", all softness and emotion was all that dance needed to be mesmerizing and unique?

The sun was slowly falling down the horizon, bathing with its golden rays the two figures that looked like one, stretching their shadow as it moved slowly, like the flames of a steady fire, on the cobblestoned street. Neither of them realized what was happening around them until the song ended and a loud applause revealed that several neighbors in the windows and as many tourists had been watching them. Gideon joined the applause shouting:

“Weee! Dad! Mom!”

The bandoneonist sighed and wiped a tear with his forearm, smiled and winked at the boy and began to play Jingle Bells.

Belle recovered from the blush and exclaimed excitedly:

“The sunset!”

After thanking the bandoneon player, she dragged her husband and son down the street to the San Gabriel promenade. The poor man shouted after them:

“Don't forget to look at the lights of Buenos Aires tonight!”

When they reached the white balustrade of the walk, Belle pulled Gideon out of the stroller and picking him up, pointed to the horizon and said:

“Look!”

Mother and son contemplated the landscape enraptured and Rumple wrapped them in his arms. As Belle had predicted in the morning, the brown waters of the Rio de la Plata, touched by the rays of the evening sun, took on all the shades of gold, bronze and copper; the blue sky seemed to be lit in an immense blaze of yellow and orange fire, ending in the lilac shade of the blue jasmines at the edge of the night. They stood there several minutes, until the lilac took full ownership of the sky and the mist of the evening began to spread the scent of the gardenias.

“Rumple, this is so beautiful...” said Belle at last, with a sigh “This has to be the most exotic Christmas I have ever had... and the best one so far.”

She stood on tiptoes to steal a kiss and Gideon laughed.

"I love you," he replied, kissing her back and then kissing Gideon's forehead. Silence settled between them and, arm in arm, they began to walk the promenade, enjoying the relief provided by the sea breeze. However, the image of the dagger and the threat it imposed on this happiness, occupied again the thoughts of Rumplestiltskin in the same way they had in the morning. A chill from Belle made him come back to reality. He took off his jacket, put it on his wife's shoulders and carefully placed Gideon, who was asleep, in the stroller. Before Belle could say anything, as they passed a street corner, they were startled by a whistle. When they looked for the source of the noise, they found a peculiar sight. Strings of lights crossed the street from side to side, shedding light on a small group of people of different ages, some of them placing and securing sawhorses and laying boards on them, others laying tablecloths and putting crockery on the makeshift table. Another group was bringing folding chairs and placing them on the sides of the table. The one that had whistled, now spoke:

“Come! Dinner! Free! No problem! Many leftovers!”

Belle and Rumple looked at each other without knowing what to do. The man turned to another one, who was sitting next to an old lady and drinking mate tea with her and exclaimed in Spanish:

“Esteban! Come! Persuade the American milongueros to stay and have dinner with us!”

Esteban apologized to his companion and gave her the mate and the thermos, got up and approached them. When he spoke, in an accent that sought to sound British but was evidently South American, he said:

“Good evening. What my brother-in-law, Alfredo, was trying to say is that, if you don’t have any prior commitment tonight, we would be delighted if you joined us for dinner.”

"Oh, thank you very much, but we don’t want to be a nuisance," Belle replied and then glanced at Rumple.

“It's no trouble. We are several families and Alfredo always miscalculates the amount of food. There is room for much more than you both and your son.”

"Well ..." Belle answered looking at Rumple, who shrugged.

“Excellent! Come here. Susana, we need two folding chairs and a high chair. Bring another sawhorse, please.”

In a blink they were already sitting at the makeshift table, Gideon at the head and his parents one on each side. To the right of Rumplestiltskin sat Esteban and in front of him the lady with whom he was talking until their arrival, which turned out to be his mother. Little by little all those who had been working on the preparations were sitting down at the table and the smell of burning eucalyptus indicated that someone had lit a fire. Soon, small wooden boards with squares of cheese and various types of cold cuts, canned cherries, champignons, hearts of palm, toasted peanuts and chip potatoes arrived at the table. Belle began to serve herself and feed Gideon. Esteban, dropping his conversation for a moment, addressed her:

“I’m sorry, how rude of me! This is the picada, a kind of appetizer. Do not fill yourself with that, that the main meal takes a little longer still. It's roast meat with salads.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“It’ll be better to introduce myself in the right way. My name is Esteban, I am a native of this city and I am a merchant mariner by profession. She is my mother, Vitalina. That one,” —he added, turning to his back and indicating a woman who was standing next to the barbecue and saying something to Alfredo— “is my wife, Susana. We have two children, Marcos and Lucía, who are out there. Aaaand... that's all… I think. How long have you been here at Colonia?”

“Oh, well, I’m Belle, this is my husband, Robert - that was the name he went by in the Land Without Magic - and our son Gideon. We arrived this morning.”

"Pleasure," Esteban answered, shaking Rumple's hand. "What do you think of our boring little town?"

“Don’t say that! It’s beautiful!”

And so, Belle, with some notes from Rumple and Gideon, began to relate enthusiastically the things they had seen that day, from the journey in the Eladia Isabel to the sunset on the promenade. When she was in the middle of her story, Esteban's wife appeared behind her with a bottle of wine in her hands.

“Are you pregnant, sweetheart?”, she said in Spanish.

Belle blushed to the roots of her hair and looked at Rumple.

“Ahem, Not yet . Well, then you can try this one. Homemade wine. Very sweet.”

Esteban came to the rescue:

"If you want to try something drier, we also have a tannat here," he added, taking a bottle from his side.

After some comings and goings, Belle decided for sweet wine and Rumple for tannat. When she finally finished her story and took a sip of the drink, Esteban looked at Susana, who was beside the barbecue and she nodded. Standing up, he clapped several times until everyone was silent. Then he exclaimed in Spanish:

“A round of applause for the cook!”

Everyone began to applaud and Alfredo, sweaty and shirtless, bowed and disappeared inside the house to appear a few minutes later with wet hair and clothes more appropriate for a Christmas Eve dinner.

The smell of roast beef soon reached them and almost immediately a boy approached with a huge board full of all kinds of cuts of meat: beef, pork ribs, lamb, chicken, achuras , sausages, blood sausages... Belle seemed lost between so many options, but Esteban suggested them to serve themselves some beef and sausages, and if they wanted to try something else later, he would ask someone to bring them whatever they wanted. Along with the meat began to arrive assorted salads: tomatoes stuffed with rice, Russian salad, Caesar salad, tomatoes and lettuce salad...

Rumple then turned to Esteban:

“So you are merchant mariner...”

“Yes, well, there aren’t many job opportunities here in Uruguay for me, but there are many foreign companies willing to hire Uruguayan sailors. Of course that means I have to spend many months away from home.” —He gazed at his wife again and smiled at her with bright eyes, a gesture that she reflected identically— “but at least the ships have good communications and..."

“Boats!” Gideon exclaimed, jumping in his high chair.

“Gideon!” Belle scolded. "He saw the yachts in the pier today and he wanted to get on one.” She explained.

“Ah! You want to see one of those boats by the inside?”

“Yes!!!”

“Well, I have a friend who owns one of those. If dad and mom give you permission and they can come, we can sail a little tomorrow afternoon, what do you say?”

“Yes! Boat!” Gideon replied, clapping.

“But only if dad and mom agree, huh? We do it this way. If you want and can , tomorrow at noon you pass by my house and tell me, ok?” We live there,” he said, pointing to a small house with low ceilings and walls painted golden yellow. He was going to add something else, but his attention was captured by something his children were doing. “Lucía, Marcos, no…”

Too late. The loudspeakers of a powerful audio equipment began to play a summer music: move on, everyone, come join in the fun, 'cause everything's allright, under the sun...

“Chiquilines, no…”

He didn’t finish the sentence because his wife was grabbing him by the arm and pulling him from the chair into the middle of the street to make him dance. There was a roar of laughter and the younger ones got up from the table and started dancing while the older ones watched them. Belle followed the rhythm of the songs with claps, looking at Gideon who tried to imitate her. Rumple watched them with a smile, unconsciously marking the rhythm with his foot. When Love is in the Air began to play, Gideon said in a tone of voice loud enough for anyone to hear:

“Dad! Mom! Dance!”

Rumple hesitated, but Belle, biting her lip, got up and dragged him to the makeshift dance floor. When they returned to the table with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, Esteban had managed to get closer to the stereo, lower the volume a little and move on to ballads. When Belle sat down, Vitalina winked at her and she blushed again. Luckily, someone had picked up the plates of the main course and placed others that contained small pieces of nougat, puddings, panettone and candied fruit. The rest of the people at the table had fallen back into lively conversation. Ice cream portions soon began to arrive and Gideon received his with great enthusiasm, and scanned the contents of the plates with bright eyes.

Esteban reappeared panting, and resumed his seat. To rekindle the conversation, he made an observation:

“Now, at night, if you pay attention, you can see the lights of Buenos Aires from the promenade.”

The expression on the faces of his guests told him that his comment was somehow off, because he added:

“I’m sorry. You must be tired of hearing it by now. It's just... I don’t know how to explain it. When you've spent several months at sea... and finally it's time to return... and you count every mile, every hour, every movement of the sun and the stars and you tell yourself in a whisper: ‘I'll be there soon, just a little bit more.’ And in the last few nights you look at the horizon, desperate to see that slight glow... and when you finally see it, you wonder if you are truly seeing it, wonder if you want so, so much to see it that you are deluding yourself… —Rumple had stopped looking at the mariner and was controlling that Gideon wasn’t having too many sweets, but he listened with an attentive ear—  But the glow turns into small dots, more and more numerous, closer and closer... and those little lights in the darkest darkness of the night in the sea whisper in your ear the names of those you love and you tell yourself: ‘I’m close, very close, almost there... at home.’ I don’t know. It's like those lights symbolize the memories we cherish, the people we love, the things we dream of obtaining, and that's, maybe, why we insist so much on talking about them.”

By the time he finished saying this, silence had taken over the table, all eyes, except Rumple's, fixed on him. The mariner blushed and looking at his watch he added loudly, in Spanish:

“It's quarter to midnight! Shall we get ready for the toast?”

The spell was broken and the champagne glasses and medio y medio bottles began to appear. Esteban apologized to his guests for the plainness of the drink and explained that it was made of sweet sparkling wine and dry white wine. Both shrugged it off and tried to reassure him, but Rumple sneaked a sideways glance at the contents of the glass, not fully convinced. Once everyone was served, Esteban said in Spanish:

“Now I invite you to stand up and toast. Alfredo?”

“Merry Christmas to all!” Said the man, raising his glass and clinking it with that of the person next to him. The air was filled with the sound of glasses tinkling against each other. In the background, fireworks began to be heard. The guests left the table and headed to the promenade. Rumple took Gideon in his arms, Belle took the stroller and after finishing the drink, which turned out to be exactly what they had been told, they followed the others.

The roar of explosions became more intense every minute and the smell of gunpowder began to cover that of the gardenias. Gideon watched the rain of colors in the sky and it’s reflection on the water, half fascination, half fear. At the stroke of midnight, when the noise and the lights reached their peak, Rumple put his arms around Belle and said to Gideon and her:

“Merry Christmas family.”

“Merry Christmas, papa! Merry Christmas, mom!” Gideon replied, planting a wet, ice cream flavoured kiss on their cheeks.

"Merry Christmas, honey," replied Belle, smiling. "Merry Christmas, Rumple," she said to her husband, kissing him. "Thank you for everything.”

Little by little, less and less fireworks exploded, until the crickets could be heard again; the darkness took over the sky and the sea once more, and the scent of the gardenias replaced the smoke of the gunpowder. The diners left slowly and by the time the last one had disappeared, Gideon had fallen asleep and Rumple had carefully placed him in his stroller. Finally, he had leant on the railing next to Belle. On the horizon, in the middle of the darkness and as if floating on the river, the lights of Buenos Aires shone like fireflies.

Belle was the first to break the silence, though almost in a whisper:

“What do you think of our host?”

“ Charming .” He replied with a crooked smile.

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“However, like our prince, circumstantially, his speeches contain something of value.”

Belle frowned, waiting for him to continue.

"Belle," he resumed, as if drawing strength from the name he loved so much, "while what seems to be the version of our prince in this place spoke, I could not help but think of... everything.” —he began to play with his wedding ring— "Once, when..." he sighed, "in the Enchanted Forest, I told him that you had been a flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness. And I couldn’t stop thinking about the day of our wedding, when I told you that you had chased away the darkness and brought light into my life, that you had brought me home. And even if I meant it when I said it, I never make it up to you for the deception under which I had you then.

He turned to face her, but looked down immediately when he saw her concerned eyes.

“Belle. I have become so obsessed with the dagger, with the weight of this curse, I have been so focused thinking about the darkness and the impossibility of getting rid of it, that I almost missed the light when I had it right in front of me. You, Gideon, Bae, you are the lights of my Buenos Aires. I have to believe that our love is more powerful than this curse; believe that it is not only able to bear it, but that it can break it; that you can set me free so that I would be able love you as never before, with my whole heart, in honesty and courage, if I let you. Today I have seen the lights of my Buenos Aires and I am certain that I am close, very close, almost there. And that you will be waiting for me on the other side of this curse.”

He removed the ring from his finger and held out his hand as if to take Belle's. She offered it to him and he concluded:

“It is with this trust that I give you my heart, promising you that I will do everything possible to make it worthy of you.”

And that said, he placed the moonstone ring with the diamond one. Belle smiled through her tears.

“Rumple. I love you. I always will. But I want you to know…”

She began to remove the ring from her finger. Her husband's face fell a little.

“That even if your curse never breaks, even if nothing worked, I'll stay here by your side, fighting for you and with you until my last breath. I promised you ‘forever’ and forever it’ll be. But you promised ‘forever’ too, and I'll take you at your word. —she took his hand— I trust that, whatever happens, no matter how dark it is, no matter how ashamed you are because of it, you won’t shut me out but open your heart to me, so that we can face whatever it is together. It is with this trust that I give you my whole heart, for you to take care of it and help me make it strong and compassionate; and I promise you that I will do everything I can to make it a worthy companion of yours.”

And saying this, she put the ring back on her husband's finger.

Without another word, they kissed passionately, and would have continued like this, one in the arms of the other who knows for how long, but a couple of voices then cried: "hooray for the newlyweds!” and the noise of a bottle breaking against the sidewalk reminded them of where they were.

Taking Gideon from the stroller, they returned to the inn by the shortest route.

What can we say about what happens behind closed doors when two hearts are consumed by the desire of becoming one? Let’s just say that when the morning light of Christmas Day came through the window, illuminating the room and bringing in the scent of the gardenias, it found the lovers still in each other's arms, their hearts full of renewed hope.

Little did they know that, weeks later, the four of them —because Eileen Gold was growing happily in her mother's womb, although she didn’t know it yet— would cross Storybrooke’s townline to find a surprise. The heavy dagger hidden in Rumplestiltskin's pocket would turn to dust and he would notice with astonishment that the voices in his head had gone silent; and he would whisper in stupefaction with his wife: True love. The only magic powerful enough to trascend realms and break any curse .