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Belle is not naive about her new master's payment when it comes to making deals. She has grown up hearing tales - both tall tales and personal anecdotes - about him.
She, herself, is living proof of his matter of payment for his deals.
Being the caretaker for the Dark Castle and its master, she had also been oftentimes tasked with taking care of the infants Rumpelstiltskin procure from his deals.
She recalls her aghast the first time he drops an infant on her lap. She recalls the burning fury in her and how she tries to beg for him to let the child return to their parents.
"Dearie," he told her, "would you return an innocent child to a mother who would trade her own blood for pieces of gold?"
It made her think of the desperate souls that call Rumpelstiltskin's name. And so, she did not voice her protests. Still, he saw her affection to the child in the few days they were under her care and allowed her to watch his new deal under an invisibility cloak.
She watched him give the child of a peasant woman who traded her firstborn for gold to a Lord and Lady in the West who could not bear children of their blood but promised to love and care for this child as if they were their own.
He let her see that this child (who isn't hers but with whom she has grown to love in the short time she spent with them) will be loved.
There are other children he received from his deals that he lets her hold them to her chest and fall for them before taking them away to be given to other desperate families. Some may call it cruel, to love someone and have them taken away. But Belle's heart is strong. She has plenty of room to love these children. Besides, he allows her to choose the families where some of her children will be raised in.
It's a small gesture but it allowed her to see the man beneath the mask of the beast.
It got easier. Knowing that deep inside his scaly exterior, there remains a kind man.
He is softer nowadays.
She is granted privilege to see the fearsome Dark One's brand of kindness - letting thieves go, returning children to their parents, allowing a lowly maid freedom to all the books she could read in her lifetime, finding a loving family for children abandoned by parents in exchange for gold.
Her heart softens.
She knows it is foolish.
But Belle thinks it is more fitting to call it being brave.
---
The crying of a child clued her in that another desperate soul struck a deal with Rumpelstiltskin.
She left the dirt she was sweeping and ran to meet her master at the entrance hall she knows all too well now.
She skids to a stop when she sees Rumpelstiltskin cradling an infant in his arms. It is an odd sight. Far too odd.
Her master carried many infants in the halls of the Dark Castle but rarely did he cradle them in his arms like he is now. Usually, he carries them in a bassinet. Most times, he calls for her to take the child off his arms.
Not this time though.
This time, Rumpelstiltskin cradles him close to his heart, rocking her and singing an indistinguishable lullaby to her.
Belle finds her enamored. But, she moves forward, aware of her duty.
"Rumpelstiltskin, shall I take her from your arms?" She approached him hesitantly, eyeing the way he looked rather vulnerable under the coat of power he dons.
He looks up, eyes showing bewilderment as if he only realized she was there.
That certainly clued her in that something was different.
"Belle," he breathes out before looking back down at the hushing child on his arms, not stopping. "There is no need. Prepare a room for the castle's new addition?"
"A room?" Belle asks, puzzled. "Not the usual nursery for the children?"
"No," he says. “Since this dearie will be spending her years with us, I believe it’s better she has her own room, yes?”
“She will stay?” Something blossomed in her chest, one she does not know how to explain precisely, at the thought of a child in the castle who won’t leave.
“Yes,” he says.
“Forever?”
The hope in her voice is clear for all to hear. She knows Rumpelstiltskin hears it too because he looks up to meet her eyes. There is wonderment there, but there is also sadness there.
“Not forever,” he looks back down at the infant. “I made a deal with the child’s mother. I will protect the child until she turns seventeen.”
Knowing better than to ask about the details of his deals, she curbs her curiosity and squashes the disappointment in her chest at the information. “Ah, but seventeen years is better than seven days,” she said.
A part of her wants to touch the child, but Rumpelstiltskin did not look as if he plans to let the child out of his arms anytime soon. With a soft smile full of longing that her Master could not see, she asks him what the child’s name is.
“She has no name for now,” he replied.
“Her mother did not name her?” She asks.
“She did have one, but it is not her name now and it will not be her name until she returns to her birth family,” he says. “Names have powers. I do not know if that Witch had done something with her name but we cannot take any chances.”
“Then, you have not picked a name for her yet?”
He is silent. Then, he looks up and there is something in his eyes that she cannot put a word on. “Name her,” he orders.
“Me?”
“Is there anyone else in the room I am talking to, dearie?” He rolls his eyes and even that is endearing.
Belle steps closer, still not touching the baby. She stares at the now serene face of the child. Soft chubby cheeks and plump pouting lips. She has tufts of brown hair and, if she closes her eyes and deludes herself hard enough, she could almost see that the child is her own.
“I have always wanted to name a daughter Beatrice,” she murmurs. “Can that be her name? Beatrice?”
He does not reply but all she can think of is a daughter of her own who she will read stories too and hold close in her arms. Her own Beatrice, who will hear the folktales of Avonlea and the songs her mother had taught her.
“No,” the sharp reply causes her to snap in attention. Rumpelstiltskin looks away from her but she can see a tremble in the arms that hold the baby. She knows she made a mistake somehow. “Pick a different name, or I will call this child Bean.”
“Rose, then,” Belle interjects. “A name fit for a beautiful child.”
Rumpelstiltskin nods, “Her name is Rose then.”
“Our Rose,” Belle murmurs to herself, not knowing that the Master of the Dark Castle has heard her.