Work Text:
“You stole my shadow!”
“Heh heh heh. So I did. And you’d best be willing to work to get it back, hmmm?” The tall, dark-skinned man twirled his mustache, leaning on a cane and leering at her. Belle glared.
“No, you’re going to give it back,” she snapped. “Now.”
The trickster-thief laughed in her face. “You’ll die without it in three days’ time, missy. So, what’ll it be? Work, or die?”
Belle felt cold. She had no idea what the skinny, overdressed, voodoo man had done with her shadow, and she had read that you couldn’t live long without it. Biting her lip, she asked: “What do you want me to do?”
“Maldonia’s Water Carnival begins tomorrow night. While everyone is distracted, you will steal Pandora’s Box.”
Sometimes, being a seer a damned nuisance. His visions, although usually accurate (once he sorted through the mess of what could be and what wouldn’t be), were vague, spotty, and difficult to follow. They were, however, the reason why he found himself in the small kingdom of Maldonia for their traditional Water Carnival. As a rule, the Dark One avoided rancorous parties, particularly those where every resident of a large city wore elaborate costumes and danced the night away by the river. Drunk and wild carnivals were not his style, but unfortunately, tonight was the night that King Ralphie was holding an auction for Pandora’s Box.
He needed the box. Rumplestiltskin didn’t know why, but he did know that someday, somehow, he would need a place to trap someone. So, here he was, clad in a costume and a mask like everyone else. He’d chosen to disguise himself as Robin Hood, giggling all the while until he remembered that Belle had talked him out of killing the outlaw, and mirth was replaced by sudden pain. If you love someone, you let them go, he told himself for the hundredth—thousandth!—time. Sending Belle away was the right thing to do. Besides, she was gone, gone for good and probably home with her family and happy by now. He had to focus on getting Pandora’s Box, not on the maid who he had thrown out .
He was not pining. His mask just itched.
The other bidders were attired almost as fabulously as he; there was an overdressed purple “cleric” in the corner, some Evil Queen he was sure was actually a man, an elephant, two overly tall fairies, and a bevy of jesters. Why King Ralphie wanted to hold the bidding outsides, however, Rumplestiltskin had no idea; the dancing and singing crowds from the Water Carnival were pressing in on the small-but-elite group of bidders. The auctioneer was having a hard time making himself heard, and really, who hired an auctioneer to take bids on one of the most powerful magical objects in creation? Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes, then caught sight of a beautifully engraved book sitting to the right of where Pandora’s Box was on display. Curious—and not thinking of his former maid—Rumplestiltskin danced through the crowd to take a look.
The cover was jewel-encrusted and gorgeous, clearly crafted by a master. The Works of Hephaestus, Rumplestiltskin read once he was close enough, admiring the gold-edged pages and the sheer artistry of the piece. I should bring this home to Belle—
Pain made his throat close off. Belle was not waiting for him at the Dark Castle. Belle was gone, and he needed to stop thinking of her. She had walked out of his life, he had driven her out, because he was not worthy of loving her. Beautiful maidens do not fall for monsters, he had always known. Even the kind and brilliant ones come to their senses.
Desperate to distract himself, he tore his gaze away from the book and started looking around for something to think on other than Belle. Immediately, movement caught his eye. There was a small, slender figure dressed in leather and a scaly coat creeping through the crowd. Their face and hair were hidden behind a mask, but their purpose was clear: this thief was aiming right for Pandora’s Box. The auctioneer had yet to get things moving; right now, he was arguing with the two ‘fairies’. No one else was watching this leather-clad thief, no one but Rumplestiltskin.
He was so close that he didn’t even have to teleport. One long stride brought him to the pedestal Pandora’s Box rested on just in time to grab the thief by a surprisingly dainty wrist.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. You never know what you might release upon the world,” he said, keeping his voice lower than usual—in keeping with his disguise, of course. But at least this was fun! Of course, the rumors of what Pandora’s Box held were just that: rumors. The box was currently empty, though most of the bidders didn’t know that. Rumplestiltskin was probably the only one who was interested in the box for what it could hold.
“Let me go!” The thief tried to jerk away, but Rumplestiltskin had always been stronger than he looked. Right up until she—and he was suddenly realized her voice was familiar voice—kicked him squarely in the right ankle. Hard.
Yelping, Rumplestiltskin let go, and the thief sprinted away, Pandora’s Box in hand and heading towards the water.
But she had taken too long, and the auctioneer grabbed for her, missing. The two fairies also tried, but it was the pack of jesters that managed to surround her. But by then Rumplestiltskin’s intellect had caught up with his emotions, and he teleported in between her and the jesters, appearing in a swirl of golden smoke and grabbing the thief before they could. She struggled, but now he had her measure, and avoided being kicked again.
“Belle?” he gasped, not daring to hope.
That made her freeze. “…Rumple?”
Tradition be damned; he tore his mask off, and so did she. For the first time in two months, Rumplestiltskin found himself face to face with the woman who had almost broken his curse. Foolish man that he was, he wanted to kiss her, but he couldn’t. Still, their faces were so close that he could feel her breathing. Rumplestiltskin had never wanted something so badly in his life as he wanted her now.
“Hang the thief!” one of the jesters shouted, ruining the moment.
“What?” Rumplestiltskin twisted to face them as Belle yelped. Oh, yes. She still had Pandora’s Box in her hands. Oops. No!
“That is in accordance with our laws,” the auctioneer said, slipping through the crowd to speak. Several others were glaring at Rumplestiltskin as fiercely as they were Belle; the two were scandalously unmasked, which Maldonia probably viewed as heinous a crime as stealing. “She must die.”
“She’s no thief, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin threw in dismissively. “She’s my…associate. Merely checking your security.” He tossed the box back. “Shall we get on with the bidding?”
None of them believed him, but now that his mask was off, who was going to argue with the Dark One? For that matter, none of them really wanted to bid against him, which meant Rumplestiltskin—and Belle!—walked off with Pandora’s Box for a song.
He bought the book, too, of course.
“Why were you trying to steal this?” he asked, gesturing with the box as they headed away from the Carnival.
Belle looked down. “Doctor Facilier stole my shadow. He said I have to give it to him, or I’ll die without it.”
Rage rose before Rumplestiltskin could summon the proper frame of mind to take a look at her with magic. Then rage rose further as he realized that Facilier had lied to Belle. Still, a twitch of his fingers could remedy that, and he stopped.
“Look,” he gestured, and Belle stared wide-eyed at her shadow, safely on the ground.
“You got it back!”
When she threw her arms around him like that, Rumplestiltskin was tempted to let her believe it. But… “Ah, no,” he stammered, trying to ignore how marvelous her body felt pressed against his. “Facilier’s stock in trade has always been illusion. It was never gone.”
“That…that…ooh!” Belle snarled, and Rumplestiltskin took advantage of the moment to hold her tight. But her next words floored him.
“I was coming back, you know,” she said softly.
“…What?”
Her smile was radiant. “I love you, Rumplestiltskin. And I know you love me.”
“I…I…er…”
“I’m coming home,” Belle told him bluntly.
“You…youwanttobewithme?”
“Of course I do. Even if you are dressed like Robin Hood.”
She’d noticed! “What are you dressed as?” he demanded, desperate to change the subject even as his heart sang. Belle wanted to come home!
Belle grinned cheekily. “The Dark One, of course. But I think the leather pants look better on you.”
The last words made her blush, but somehow Rumplestiltskin found enough boldness in himself to cast an approving look over how very nicely those leather pants fit her. “Not from where I’m standing.”