Chapter Text
Appeasing her father's wrath concerning her "adventure" with Anna had been easy enough for Belle, certainly considering that there were bigger things to worry about, namely the ogres. However… Gaston's fury had been a different matter entirely. Belle had known that he would find her when he heard of her return; she'd been anticipating what would come with him – all of it.
But that didn't dull the panic she'd felt when her fiancé stormed down the hall to her chambers and began screaming at her, nor the pain when he began to beat her – not that this was the first time in their so-called relationship. She'd done the only thing she knew to do: crumbled against the wall doing all she could to protect her midsection until his rage at her "acting out" had sated and he'd left her where she was. As the door slammed soundly behind Gaston, she stayed curled in the fetal position on the cold stone floor until at length her sobs abated and she sat up.
Until now, she hadn't had a moment's peace to even take off her cloak, so she did so now, letting the blue fabric pool on the floor behind her as she brushed away the last of her tears and returned her hands to cradling her abdomen – and the every-growing child nestled underneath her heart. As much as she hated and feared Gaston, she couldn't help but feel solely love for the child that had been created one of the times he'd forced her into his bed twenty-seven weeks ago.
But with the love for her child always came fear for the baby. Next to no one even knew she was pregnant, Gaston didn't even want the child – not an illegitimate one – and Belle couldn't imagine allowing an infant to grow up under Gaston's roof. She couldn't let it happen… but time was running short before she gave birth, and she didn't know what to do. She knew, though, that she could not stay here. Whatever the first chance was that she found to leave this place, she would have to take it.
And she had. Belle was so very desperate that she had gone with the Dark One to his castle, promising to be his estate's caretaker forever. She was beginning to believe, though, that in her desperation, she'd exchanged a bad situation for a worse one. Not a week after mentioning Rumplestiltskin to her father, she was curled up in a cell in the dungeon of the sorcerer's castle, wishing herself anywhere else on her second night here. She was still bruised from Gaston's beating, she ached nearly all the way into her bones from the cold seeping in from all sides, and worst of all, and she had been feeling twinges all day. They'd gotten progressively worse throughout the day, and what she'd first thought were simple cramps – from nerves at her new surroundings, maybe? – could no longer be brushed off as anything so commonplace.
Something was going wrong, very wrong with her baby, and she didn't know what to do.
Yet another harsh sob burst forth from her body and Belle peered through the darkness, desperately trying to get an idea of something of what might be happening to her body and her baby. What she saw, what she realized, had her pressing a hand to her mouth to stem a scream. There was blood, oh so much blood! Then the torches outside her cell were lit, the door to her cell was breezing open as if of its' own accord, and Rumplestiltskin stalked in, magicking a yellow pillow into his hands as he came.
Belle's eyes locked on his, seeing his own orbs blow wide at the sight of so much blood as she whispered pitifully up at him, "Please help my baby."
The pillow disappeared as quickly as it had appeared while Rumplestiltskin crossed the room and knelt down beside her, realizing with shock, "You're with child!"
She nearly screamed at him for stating the obvious, but assumed that wasn't a good idea, repeating instead in a pain-clogged tone, "Help!"
"I don't know what to do!" he said, surprising her with the panic in his voice.
She burst into a fresh wave of tears, begging, "Please try! Help my baby!"
So he did; he tried, and somehow Belle had her baby in her arms within the hour. Her tiny, beautiful, perfectly-formed baby girl, Arabella.
But something was wrong.
Belle looked at Rumplestiltskin with terror in her eyes as she said, "She should cry; why won't she cry? Can't you make her cry? Her breathing…" Belle realized, her tears starting all over again as she spoke, "She can't breathe for long if she won't cry. Do something or she'll die!"
"I'm sorry," Rumplestiltskin whispered sincerely, his hands fluttering this way and that. It hit Belle that he was casting spells as he admitted gently, "I've been trying every spell I can think of, but I… it's her heart that's underdeveloped, and hearts are very fickle things. There's nothing I can do." He looked away as he stood and left, whispering, "I'll leave you with her for awhile."
"Awhile" turned out to be only five minutes. For five wonderful, heartbreaking minutes Belle cradled her daughter to her with one arm and whispered sweet things, her other hand resting ever so gently over the baby's heartbeat, feeling the unsteady rhythm of her child struggling to breathe… until the struggle was over.
Perhaps it was magic that alerted him to the baby's death, perhaps it was Belle's keening scream, but as blinding grief began to overtake her good senses, Rumplestiltskin was suddenly at her side once again. He spirited her daughter's little body away and when her hands began to grope desperately for her baby to hold, she found only the Dark One there instead. So she clung to him and he let her, as she let him hold her in return, neither one of them really registering that Rumplestiltskin was crying too, as their individual thoughts of their unreachable children eclipsed all else.