Work Text:
O tales I’ve read and heard stories told
of pirates, brave and free
who laugh at death, strong and bold -
so a pirate I shall be.
The line of refugees stretched for miles before Rumplestiltskin, winding its way from the ill-fated little village that he’d grown up in and stretching off to the horizon. He didn’t know where he was going, but staying was no longer an option. The Ogre Wars were spreading, inexorable as the ocean. Soon, they would break over the village like a cresting wave, and neither Rumplestiltskin nor any soul for miles around wished to linger to witness the destruction.
Rumplestiltskin was almost lucky that he had so little of his life to pack. He’d wheedled and begged until he found someone to load his spinning wheel onto their own cart, but otherwise - well, a small pack held food and clothes for Bae, and the boy was still small enough to not be a great burden.
He’d trudged steadily onward through most of the morning. Although he was slowly losing ground to those he’d set out next to, he wasn’t in danger - yet - of being left behind.
It was nearly noon when his ankle, protesting at the miles of mistreatment it had been made to endure, gave out. Acting faster than thought, he dropped his walking stick and tried to cradle Bae to him, to keep his boy safe through the fall -
- that never came. Hands caught him at the last second, stabilized him, and hauled him back to proper footing. While he was still quaking and clutching at Baelfire, someone picked up his walking stick and held it out to him until he wrapped one hand around it.
“Th-thank you,” Rumplestiltskin said, adjusting Bae in his arm so he could properly support himself for walking.
“Of course.”
He looked up at the source of the voice and found himself staring at the most beautiful maiden he’d ever seen.
She was young enough that she must be a maid, and he saw no one near her to be a father or husband, but she was dressed like anything but. Her hair was loose and fell in dark copper curls around her shoulders. She wore a blouse with sleeves tied off at the elbows and a modestly laced bodice, but it was tucked into leather breeches that were half-hidden by high boots caked with the mud of their journey.
“Come on,” she said, gesturing that they should rejoin the procession, “I’d rather not fall any further behind.”
Her words recalled Rumplestiltskin to himself, and he became aware once more of the people slogging past them on either side. He nodded, and began limping onward.
“Would you like - I mean - I could carry your child for a ways, if you wanted.”
He looked up a second time, startled that she had more to say.
“Oh, I’m managing,” he responded after a beat.
“I can see that you are,” she said, “but you might manage better.”
It was said without a trace of mockery or condescension, and after a moment of hesitation, Rumplestiltskin handed Bae over to her, watching anxiously as she cradled the boy against her. As they walked on without any incident or accident, Rumplestiltskin gradually began to relax.
“I’m Belle,” she said after a few quiet moments. “Who might you be?”
“Rumplestiltskin. I live - well, lived - back in the village,” he responded. “And that’s Bae - Baelfire, my son.”
Belle flashed him a smile before returning her attention to her charge. “And his mother?”
Rumplestiltskin almost stopped in his tracks.
“She -” he swallowed a half-dozen answers. “She’s gone.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, and he could hear the truth of it in her voice.
“You didn’t know, and how could you?” he said by way of excuse. “I don’t know every person in the area, but I can’t say I’ve ever seen you before.” Rumplestiltskin was sure he’d have remembered seeing her.
“You wouldn’t have,” she said with a grin. “Us pirates don’t hang around for long. Not -” she said with a look around them “- that this was exactly where I imagined my journey leading.”
“Us whats?” Rumplestiltskin asked, sure he’d misheard her.
“Pirates!”
“You are not,” he exclaimed, surprise overtaking his timidity.
“I most certainly am,” she said, chin up and eyes blazing. “Well…” her look turned sheepish. “I mean to be, at least. I’ve never actually been out to sea before. That’s actually why I was in the area - trying to find a ship that might take me on.”
He looked at her apprehensively. “Weren’t you...worried?” he asked at length.
“About what?”
“About - well, everything! Mightn’t they...misuse you?”
Belle’s face became stone. “They might try,” she said, “but they wouldn’t try twice.”
“But even without that,” he continued, “the sea’s a dangerous place. Aren’t you afraid?”
She laughed, but it was with joy and not spite. “I might be, a little,” she said, “but that doesn’t matter. All of my life, I’ve been reading stories about adventure and exploration. One day I realized that I wanted to do more than read about the adventures of other people; I wanted to have my own! A little danger’s an acceptable price for freedom, don’t you think?”
Belle could surely read the answer written across his bewildered face, but she made no mention of it.
“I wanted to be my own,” she said simply.
They walked together through the rest of the long day. Sometimes they walked in silence; other times she’d tell him tales from her books, or he’d tell her about Baelfire or the three old aunties who took care of him so long ago. They took turns carrying Baelfire, and Rumplestiltskin hardly remembered to feel anxious about the future.
The night should have been bitterly cold, but Rumplestiltskin didn’t feel it for a moment. When he’d gone to check on his spinning wheel and make sure it had survived the day’s travels, Belle had staked out a spot nearer to one of the campfires than he’d have ever been able to claim. As he returned, she was laying Baelfire down on a padded blanket, shooting defiant looks at anyone foolish enough to impinge upon her space.
Rumplestiltskin thanked her, laid down with one arm holding Bae to him, and prepared himself for sleep.
He was most alarmed, mere moments later, to feel Belle lay down behind him, her front flush against his back, and pull her blanket over them both.
“Belle!” he whispered, “What are you doing? What will people think?”
“Pirate,” she whispered back, and she was so close that he could feel her breath stirring his hair.
Rumplestiltskin had no response for that, so he waited for his heart to stop racing, matched his breaths to hers, and eventually fell asleep.