Work Text:
Belle and Baelfire put their hands side by side on the great door of the Dark Castle, and on the count of three, they both shove with all their might until the hinges creak open.
“I was here not too long ago. It’s been looted but we might still be able to find something useful.”
“I know where Rumple kept everything,” she tells him, swallowing down fear and pain and leading him. She leads him through the first door to the right, summoning her determination and courage. “The library is through there and down the hall to the left,” she instructs, pointing to the doorway on the other end of the great room where Rumplestiltskin would spin. “I’ll start here. You go see if there’s any magic books left in there.”
Despite the fact that windows are still uncovered where she pulled down the curtains so long ago, the room is dark and dingy in the late afternoon with clouds overhead. She looks around and spots a candelabra fallen down behind a pedestal between the windows, and carries her dimming torch to the nearest bracket in the wall. She lifts the candleholder and carefully lights each of the three candles in the dimming flame, pleased with the bright light they produce. She then moves with purpose to the cabinet built into the wall at the far end of the room and sets the candelabra down on the nearby pedestal while she opens it and searches through the remaining contents.
She shuffles through nick-knacks and trinkets and small boxes, barely noticing the faint crackling of the candle flame behind her, until –
“Ma chère mademoiselle!” Belle yelps loudly at the unexpected voice and turns, knocking several items out of the cabinet as she backs into it. “What a lovely sight to awaken to after all this time!”
Belle stares, blinking several times to make sure she isn’t hallucinating. Before her, rising up from the candelabra, is a face formed entirely from the orange flames. The features are rather distinct as they smile at her, eyes meeting hers with excitement.
“What is your name, my dear?” The voice comes through clear and distinct, even though the apparition has no real mouth or lungs. Still, for all the strange things she’s seen in her life, all she can do is stare. “Come now, chèrie, don’t be shy!”
After a few more drawn-out moments of silence, she hears footsteps entering the room, and finds Bae returning, staring down at several sheets of parchment in his hands.
“Belle, there’s still a lot in there, I think we can…” he trails off as he looks up, taking in the fiery apparition, and the two stare at each other for a moment.
“Lemme guess,” Bae finally says, seeming exasperated for reasons she can’t guess. “Lumière?”
“Ah-ha, I see my reputation precedes me!”
Belle finally manages to find her voice, and stands straighter as she moves closer to Bae. “Do you know him?”
He sighs heavily. “Not personally.” He looks to her, all but rolling his eyes. “If we ever make it back to Storybrooke, I’ll show you a little movie you might find interesting.”
Then he picks up the candelabra, the face following with the flame, and starts back toward the library.
“Don’t suppose you have any particular fondness for any teapots, clocks, feather dusters, ottomans, teacups…?”
“Um, well yes, actually. On my first night here I dropped a cup and chipped it. Why?”
“A chipped teacup?” he presses, looking at her over his shoulder with a sharply arched eyebrow.
“Yes. Why?”
“Good sir,” the face – Lumière – pipes up again, “I must say it is quite rude not to introduce yourself before man-handling me so!”
Bae does not introduce himself, only continues on into the library. She does, however, hear him mutter under his breath. “How is this my life?”