Chapter Text
Belle gazed at the new object in Rumpelstiltskin's collection. It wasn't an eye-catching piece of art, and neither did it seem rich in gold or silver. Even the frame was simple wood, and the picture itself, though beautiful enough, was a common view of the forest; its one unique feature, the little white fox barely distinguishable among the trees.
"Do you like it?" Rumpelstiltskin was suddenly behind her, seeming to enjoy her startled yelp. He didn't even wait for her to settle before continuing. "It's a bit outdated for my taste, but then I didn't get it as decoration only."
Belle took a step backwards. She'd had teapots singing at her, books biting her fingers, and flying carpets. There was no telling what a picture could do.
Swallow her into that forest, probably.
Being chased by a fox was not her chosen activity for the afternoon.
"No, no," Rumpelstiltskin said, well versed in her body language. "No need to fear it. It's not magical at all. Think of it as more of.... a puzzle!"
Belle knew he didn't mean it literally, as the picture was in one piece. It could be part of a collection, but Rumpelstiltskin wasn't a man who put time or effort in finding new objects for his castle.
If he wanted such a thing, he had gold to pay for any whim and be done with it.
Curiosity promoted her to ask: "A puzzle?"
Rumpelstiltskin nodded. "You see, my dear," he said, waving toward the simple forest with a grand gesture. "This very picture has been stolen over fifty times in the last decade."
Belle blinked. Quick figuring had her frowning in disbelief.
"It's true." He walked around her to stand closer to the wall, then tapped the edge of the frame with a fingernail, as if securing it in place. "It will come to a new home and stay for a few weeks, a couple months at most, and then," he snapped his hand into a silent explosion, "poof, it'll vanish before reappearing on the other side of the world, with no apparent cause or purpose."
"It must be magic," Belle told him.
Having been acquainted with an armor that stomped its lance whenever it felt it needed a polishing, Belle was ready to believe that objects had a mind of their own.
"Not at all!" Rumpelstiltskin said gleefully. He guided her hand to hover an inch over the painting. "Feel that?"
Belle might be surrounded by magic, but she was no more attuned to it than when she'd just arrived. Strong spells had a certain aura, though, and she could swear that Rumpelstiltskin's magic had a sweet smell to it, but that was all.
"I feel nothing."
"Exactly!" Rumpelstiltskin lifted her hand into a quick kiss, then returned his attention to the painting. "Besides a couple sticking spells - all obviously quite useless - this painting has not a drop of magic to it."
Belle had to wonder whether she was being tricked. Rumpelstiltskin did enjoy his little, absurd pranks.
However, she had grown to know most of his tells, and he did seem sincere in his enthusiasm.
"There's more!" Rumpelstiltskin announced grandly. "Whenever it disappears, be it from the most guarded castle or from the deepest vaults, a single sheet of paper appears in its stead." He waved his hand, and a small cloud of magic delivered a stack of the notes. "Quite cheeky, this thief. See? Nothing but a line and the date of the robbery."
Belle raised an eyebrow. "How organized." Taking the stack from his hands, she perused them. After about a third of the notes, something niggled at her. "Rumple?" she called to him hesitantly, though she grew sure of her idea as she continued through the pile. "This isn't a date," she said, pointing at the string of numbers in one of the notes.
Rumpelstiltskin didn't point out the obvious.
"I mean, it is. They all are. Technically. But when you see them together... Look!" She walked over to the nearest desk. The desk was kind enough to meet its mistress midway and shorten its legs into the perfect height. Belle gave an approving pat along its wooden edge and then proceeded to line the notes together. "See?"
Rumpelstiltskin grunted. "My dear," he confessed after a moment of thought, "I haven't the slightest."
Belle bit her lip. "Maybe it's not..."
Rumpelstiltskin halted that train of thought with a hand on her shoulder. "I believe you've found something. Why don't you tell me what it is?"
She gave him a grateful smile before she started. "Well, see how the main text is written in block letters. It's done carelessly, fast. Just to mock the former owner and brag about the deed."
Indeed, most of the notes amounted to a cheerful "nyah, nyah, nyah".
"However," Belle continued, "look at the numbers. Sure, they happen to set the date, but each line is a careful stroke, and when they coincide they are exactly the same. Oh, sweet gods, Rumple!" Excitement made her grab onto his hand and march him back to the painting. "Look! They are really the same!"
Rumpelstiltskin took a second before the noticed the tiny signature in the left bottom corner of the depicted forest. The ink was barely noticeable against the dark ground, but keen eyes - or perceptive blue eyes, apparently - quickly made out the details.
"Ah," he exhaled. "Yes, of course."
Though the characters appeared in an unfamiliar language, the numbers were indeed identical to those in the notes.
"Hm," he mused at the evidence. "An artist and a thief."
"One who never keeps his haul?" Belle objected. "Does he even take anything else?"
"And we presume it's a man because..."
Belle gave a little eyeroll and waved toward the painting. "That's a boy name, Rumple."
Rumpelstiltskin peered closer at the characters. They were still incomprehensible to him. "Of course you can read that," he muttered.
Belle gave a modest smile.
Rumpelstiltskin smirked, gave a fond tap against her chin. "Preen away, my girl. Nobody is watching."
Belle's smile grew smug.
Rumpelstiltskin had no recourse but to kiss it away.
"All right, then," he said after a long moment, clearing his throat and enjoying the sight of her blushing cheeks. "I suddenly feel quite disinterested in art."
Belle giggled. "Oh?"
"Well, obviously all that remains is to await for our unknown artist. I can't think he'll sneak into the Dark Castle as easily as he has elsewhere."
"You said it takes weeks, perhaps months." Belle faked a yawn.
"Just too long, don't you think?" Rumpelstiltskin agreed quickly. "Perhaps in the meanwhile we can..."
"Go to the library to search for information on Wamako art?" Belle ignored Rumpelstiltskin's pout. "Considering the language, that must be the island this comes from."
"Sure. An island." Rumpelstiltskin said drily. "How interesting."
Belle stepped closer to him, hands setting at his waist. "Unless you have a better idea?"
Rumpelstiltskin smirked.
A cloud of magic whisked them away.
---
(Epilogue)
A few seconds later, a silver gust of wind twisted through the windows, as untouchable as a beam of sunlight. It coalesced into the shape of a little fox, though the number of tails was decidedly not the usual.
"Took them long enough," a young male voice muttered.
The little fox sniffed carefully, more cautious than he was used to. The magic was powerful, but still much younger than his own. A little push here, a touch of a growl there, and the painting broke free.
The desk stomped its legs in protest.
The tea set rattled warningly.
The little fox, however, heard the couple laugh deeper in the castle. "Calm down," he told the upset furniture. "It's not like they'll notice anytime soon."
The End