#31 days of fandomas

[timelordthirteen]

Star-Crossed

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, G

Summary: Belle is putting the finishing touches on the library's Christmas tree. Luckily Mr. Gold is there to help.

Notes: Enjoy some simple pre-Christmas, pre-relationship, total Skin Deep call back fluff. For the 31 Days of Fandomas prompt #17: star.

[AO3]

“It’s fine, Miss French, really.”

“No it’s not. It’s crooked!”

There were times that Belle French wished she wasn’t so Type A that a slightly askew Christmas decoration was going to drive her slowly insane for the entire month of December. Being perched at the top of a twelve foot ladder, over the marble floor of the public library entrance, with her long standing but completely unrequited crush Mr. Gold looking on, was definitely one of those times.

From the moment she’d met the enigmatic, sarcastically funny, and surprisingly sweet, Mr. Gold she’d been fighting against her desire to make a complete idiot of herself by throwing herself at him. She’d always been fairly star-crossed when it came to relationships, which was how she’d ended up in tiny little Storybrooke in the first place, running from the shambles of a broken engagement in Boston. Before that she’d flown from Melbourne to Los Angeles just to avoid her ex-boyfriend’s wedding to her ex-best friend.

As for LA, well, she was choosing not to think about anything that happened there ever again, thank you very much.

Belle stretched her arm up towards the top of the tree, straining to reach the lighted star that had been placed there a few minutes ago, as she braced her other hand on the stop of the ladder. She pushed against the wood with the palm of her hand and lifted up on her toes until she could grasp the base of the star and the artificial branch it was attached to. It tilted as she turned it, trying to secure it further and straighten it at the same time.

“Please be careful,” came the voice of Mr. Gold.

“Almost got it…” she muttered, wincing as her shoulder started to ache from straining at such an awkward angle.

The ladder creaked and her legs wobbled, and the next second she was floating in the air. Actually, no, she suddenly realized, she was not floating, she was falling. Definitely falling.

“Oof!”

Then, rather unexpectedly, she was not falling.

Belle blinked, looking up at the top of the tree, where the star was now sitting perfectly straight, and frowned. Her feet were not on the floor, and there was a hand very close to -

“Oh!”

She gasped and turned to see Mr. Gold’s face extremely close to her own. Her eyes met his and she stopped breathing, her mouth hanging open in shock. He was holding her quite firmly and solidly against his body with one arm around her back, and the other under legs. His expression looked just as surprised as hers, and they stared at each other for a long moment, until he abruptly dropped her legs to the floor.

She landed on her four inch heels and stumbled, catching herself by bracing against his chest. He breathed shallowly, and she felt the movement beneath her hands, the slow outward movement of his ribs and the shifting of his shoulders. His hands were at her waist, holding her gently, but her sweater had caught on the button of his waistcoat and lifted up, exposing a slim line of her abdomen. A soft pressure drew her attention, and she let out a small sound when his thumbs stroked her willowy skin. He breathed her name, so faintly that if she had not been close enough to feel the warm puff of air over her lips she would never have known.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to his mouth which was alarmingly near to hers.

Gold’s hands flexed slightly pressing over her skin as her fingers curled around the lapels of his suit jacket, and a beat later their lips touched in a brief, glancing brush that made her eyelids flutter. She tilted her head, bumping her nose into his just before his mouth caught her bottom lip. He kissed her, softly, tasting her with the lightest flick of his tongue, and drawing a whimper from her throat before he pulled away.

His eyes were wide and dark, staring at her as though he couldn’t decide whether to bolt for the door or push her against the circulation desk. She decided for him, pushing up on her toes to seal her lips over his as she tugged on his jacket and turned them away from the Christmas tree. He followed without moving his mouth from hers and slipped a hand in her hair, tangling in her dark curls a second before her back was pressed to the edge of the counter.

This time when he pulled away, he was smiling.

“Dinner?” he asked, breathless.

Belle grinned and licked her lips, feeling her head spin delightfully at the pleasurable turn of events. “Yes. When?”

He swallowed and let his eyes skim up over her face, down to the deep V of her green sweater. “Tonight? My place?”

She laughed softly at his enthusiasm. “Perfect.”

Gold leaned in and kissed her again as his hands came up to cup her face. When he pulled away, he was smirking, and she arched an eyebrow at him as she watched him walk to the door.

His gaze shifted rather pointedly to the top of the tree, and then back to her, his head cocked to the side. “It’s crooked again.”

He pushed through the doors as Belle whirled around and stared up at the star, brightly lit and tilted too far to the left. She shook her head, her lips pursing in half amusement, half consternation, and sighed.

Still star-crossed after all.

[emospritelet]

I love December. We have the Rumbelle Secret Santa, we have prompt fills and 31 Days of Fandomas and all manner of festive fic and art treats. Well done, Rumbellers!

[ao3feed-rumbelle]

Merry and Bright

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2ZyNFYd

by rowofstars

Mr. Gold tries to take in the Christmas makeover his house has been given.

Words: 505, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 7 of 31 Days of Fandomas 2019

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Additional Tags: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, 31 Days of Fandomas 2019, Ficlet

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2ZyNFYd

[barpurplewrites]

Card

Inspired by @timelordthirteen 31 Days of Fandomas.

Rumbelle and Card :)

-x-x-x-

The click of the front door behind him eased the tension of the day from him, as he slid his can into the umbrella stand Gold called out.

“I’m home, sweetheart!”

“In the dining room, darling!”

Gold limped into the dining room and smiled at the sight that greeted him. The table was strewn with paper and pencils, and Belle was seated at one end, the tip of her tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth as she bent over her work. Normally he’d greet her with a kiss, but Belle didn’t like him getting a glimpse of her drawings until she was ready, so he leaned against the doorframe.

“Ready to be viewed, or shall I put the kettle on?”

Belle looked up at him with a warm smile; “Come have a look.”

Gold dropped a kiss on to her cheek before he sat down and looked at the offered paper. Six months to go before December, but Belle was busily drawing Christmas scenes. A bushy faced Santa was getting a trim in a traditional barbershop. Belle’s cheerful caricature style had captured the weary sigh on the face of the barber perfectly.

“Oh, Mr Thomson is going to love this.”

“I hope so,” Belle handed him another page, “Gus dropped the car off this morning and gave his seal of approval for this.”

On the page Cinderella’s carriage had lost a wheel and was being fixed by mice in little blue coveralls. Gold grinned; “Of course he did, it’s perfect.”

Belle was biting her lip; “You don’t think this is all a bit silly, do you?”

Gold wrapped his arm around Belle and pulled her in close to his side; “Silly was Regina’s design, all that harsh black and silver.

He gave a dramatic shudder to make Belle laugh. While he could appreciate the importance of a professional mask and a good solid aesthetic, Regina trying to enforce black and sliver Christmas cards for all the town’s public services was ridiculous. She’d try to make some bones about the importance of presenting a unified image for the town, but that had fallen flat.

The town wanted jolly, and Belle’s designs had jolly in abundance. The library’s card featured the staff dressed as characters from A Christmas Carol. Once Sheriff Swan had seen Belle’s sketch for that, she’d asked if Belle could draw her pulling Santa over for speeding. Word got out and requests for fun designs featuring the staff and owners of businesses came in thick and fast.  

Dark Star Pharmacy had opted for Rudolph buying cold meds and hankies, and Mr Clark’s nose was as red as the reindeer. Granny’s card was a cheeky elf carrying a feast of puddings and treats, staying just within the bounds of good taste by a couple of well-placed Christmas puds.

Gold reached over and picked up the drawing that Belle had made for his own business. Since she’d used the Dickens classic for the library, he’d insisted that she draw him as the Grinch.

“I’m still not sure about that one, darling.”

“It’s perfect. I do have a reputation to maintain.”

Belle took the drawing from him and placed it safely on the table, before she climbed into his lap.

“But everyone knows that mean old Mister Grinch really loves Christmas.”

Gold stole a kiss and grinned as he thought of the carefully packed boxes of decorations and lights in the attic just waiting to be opened again come the first of December. In the four years he’d been with Belle the whole town knew just how much he loved Christmas. And this year would be extra special. He stroked a hand across Belle’s stomach, that was just beginning to show a hint of a bump.

“Exactly.”

[timelordthirteen]

Ribbons

Rumplestiltskin/BelleFrench, G

Summary: Rumplestiltskin contemplates what the evening might hold for him.

Notes: Just some pre-Christmas fluff with our favorite Dark Castle couple. For the 31 Days prompt #20: ribbon.

[AO3]

The snow fell in thick, heavy flakes, shaped into rolling mounds and sweeping drifts by the persistent wind.

Winter had come early this year, dampening the Yule festivities around the realm, but suiting Rumplestiltskin just fine. He liked a party now and then, but this year teasing nobles and taunting royalty over goblets of mulled wine didn’t hold the interest for him that had in years past. He owed all that to the woman seated to his right, reclined along the velvet sofa in front of the large fireplace in the library at the top of the south tower that hadn’t existed until a year and three months ago.

Rumplestiltskin watched as Belle turned the page in her book.

His hands began to fidget while he waited, his fingers wiggling impatiently and his thumb running back and forth against the tips. It wouldn’t be long now, as the hour crept ever later, before she would be ready for bed. The anticipation was part of the fun for him, waiting as he contemplated the order in which things would happen.

First, she would beckon him to follow her with a hand and a smile, which he wouldn’t hesitate to take. Next, they would climb the long staircase together, forgoing any magic in favor of the simplicity of their match steps and linked arms. They would reach the door to her room, and stop, and he would pause as he always did, wanting desperately to be invited inside. He started to smile to himself, knowing she would, and remembering that she had every night for the last few weeks.

His favorite part came next.

Belle would shed her robe, revealing the nightgown of silk and lace that he knew was beneath it, and take a seat at one end of the bench at her vanity. He would sit next to her, astride the bench, and pull her braid loose before taking the tenderest care in brushing out her long tresses. He preferred it above all else, the soft slide of it through his fingers and the light scent of rose soap.

Not quite as much as what would often happen after, when they were bare to each other under the blankets on her bed, but that wasn’t a nightly occurrence.

Finally, chapter finished, Belle slipped her bookmark in place, a now tattered strip of fabric taken from the skirt of her golden gown before it was resigned to the back of the closet, battered from too much use. Then she closed her book and set it aside, next to her now empty tea cup. Her hair shined in the firelight as pushed to her feet and turned to face him, her lips curving in a small smile. A thick braid fell over her right shoulder, and Rumple’s lips parted in a silent gasp as he saw the royal blue and brilliant gold ribbons woven in it, intertwined and tied around the end in a perfect bow just begging to be tugged. It was more elaborate than the usual single tied ribbon she used to keep her hair neat after her bath, and he stared in wonder at its meaning.

It might have been the pearls he brought her from his last trip to the southern kingdoms with their ivory beaches, or the decadent jasmine perfume from Agrabah, or, more simply, maybe she wanted to tease him as he performed his nightly duties.

The thought had him licking his lips.

Belle held out a hand to him, her mouth twisting into a smirk when she caught the flash of his tongue. “Coming to bed, Rumplestiltskin?”

He took her hand as he stood, lifting it to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of it. Her eyes were wide and dark, glittering with something, and he felt a sharp pang in his chest, words that had yet to be spoken, yet were still known for what they were by the magic of their first kiss. Tonight was, perhaps, the night he would have the courage to give voice to them.

The corner of his lips curved as he laid her arm over his and began to lead her out of the library. “Of course, my dear.”

[timelordthirteen]

Night Shift

Mr. Gold/Lacey French, Mature

Summary: You got a nine to five, so I'll take the night shift, and I'll never see you again if I can help it.

Notes: Inspired by one of my favorite Golden Lace-centric songs Night Shift by Lucy Dacus. I have been wanting to write this fic forever and here we go. (Let's be real, I am easy and will probably write more of this if prompted.) For the 31 Days prompt #5: Rings.

[AO3]

The rings shone in the fading afternoon light, diamonds and gemstones casting a glitter of tiny rainbows across the black velvet of the jewelry case.

Gold gave the glass one last swipe with a rag and sighed. A few minutes later, he turned the key in the lock and then pulled it free, rattling the bell on the other side as the door to the pawn shop shuddered on its hinges. He slipped the key into the pocket of his wool overcoat and turned to glare up at the darkening sky. The days seemed so short this time of year, and while he wasn’t one to be all that affected by the change in seasons, he wasn’t much of a fan of winter. Snow and ice was treacherous when one walked with a cane, and the ceaseless onslaught of holiday after holiday became more irritating with every year that passed.

He pulled his scarf up higher on either side of his neck, feeling the leather of his gloves pull tight where it caught on the ring he flatly refused to take off, and walked the short distance to the corner where his black Cadillac was parked. Every morning at nine, he opened the pawn shop on Main Street, just a block down and across the road from Granny’s Diner, and every evening at five he closed it. He went home to a large salmon colored Victorian house on Morning Glory Lane, made himself something for dinner, and finished the night with a glass of scotch, the accounting ledgers from his shop, and the drone of the television on in the background.

His life was order and routine, and had been so for nearly every year since he’d moved to the small town of Storybrooke, Maine. The only exception had been the short time when he’d dared to let one other single human being into his existence. But that had ended rather abruptly and spectacularly, to the surprise of no one who had ever known him. He was a difficult man to love, to say the least, and one needed only to ask his son in order to confirm the truth of what a bastard he could be.

He reached for the door handle of the car, and then stopped, rolling his head back and huffing out a breath as his arm dropped to his side. His car keys were still sitting on the desk in the back room of the shop. Sighing again, he pivoted on his heel and started to walk back to the door of the shop, already fishing the key to the deadbolt out of his coat pocket.

A flash of something caught his attention and he paused to look across the street, the breath rushing out of him as a lump rose up in his throat.

The red open sign flickered and flashed before holding steady once more, the victim of a slight dip in power as the large toaster oven in the kitchen was turned up to high.

Lacey shoved her hands further into her pockets and shivered as the wind bit at her bare skin and swept up under the skirt of her uniform. Her heels clomped loudly against the pavement, echoing across the nearly empty street. In less than an hour the diner would be bustling and warm, and she would be longing for the chilly breeze outside to soothe her sticky, sweaty neck.

Her life had been boring and predictable, the same endless drudge of waiting tables, cleaning her apartment, and drinking her tips away the Rabbit Hole. There wasn’t much else to do in Storybrooke, which is why she’d always hated it, but even when she managed to save up some money, it wasn’t enough to move anywhere better. Big cities were expensive, and she had nothing but a string of minimum wage, bottom rung jobs to put on a resume. Things had been better for a little while, once upon a time, when she’d had someone who she thought respected and valued her, saw more in her than a diner waitress and a weekend pool hustler.

But that had been a joke.

She used to work the morning shift at Granny’s, sometimes opening the place and getting the baking and coffee started for breakfast. There was a satisfaction in getting up early and seeing many of the townsfolk well fed before they went off to work. It was a happier time, a simpler time, and time when she’d taken chances and let someone get close. Too close.

She should have known better really, dating out of her league, if one could even call it that. It was more like intermittent fucking and occasional movie watching, like a string of evenings of Netflix and chill in hindsight. Then there had been her father and her history and the same old shit that always seemed to get in the way. Lacey French didn’t get to have nice things.

She didn’t want to see those early morning people anymore, especially the one who had broken her heart. Now she worked the night shift, of sorts, five-thirty to close almost every night. Her life was back to boring and predictable, with the same struggle to put aside a little stash and maybe break away someday, all done under the cover of darkness where it felt easier to hide.

Twisting on her heel, Lacey blew out a breath and watched it fog in the chilly air, floating upwards like smoke from a chimney. She reached up and touched the chain that dangled down between her breasts, sliding it back and forth through the ring that hung at the end of it. It was nearly time for her shift to start, but she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye that made her stop.

Gold swallowed hard and curled his gloved hand into a fist inside his pocket as the other gripped his cane hard.

Her hair fluttered in the bitter wind, tossed out behind her in a mass of dark waves over her red leather jacket. He could see them in his mind’s eye spread out on the pillow, his fingers pulling at them as she said his name over and over. She was so beautiful, then and now, but he’d fucked it all up, just like he knew he would. She deserved better than the likes of him, better than a beast of an old man. Someday he hoped she’d finally move on from this dead end town, and from him, even though he’d never move on from her.

After another moment, he sighed and turned away to unlock the door.

Lacey pushed her hair back out of her face and fought the urge to scurry inside the diner.

She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her give in to embarrassment first. The wind moved his coat around his legs and she saw him shift his weight from one foot to the other, bracing hard on his cane. It was too easy to recall the way the cool wood and metal had felt against her, how he’d teased her relentlessly, and how the pleasure that overtook them stole her breath away with the intensity of it. They could have had it all if only they’d been better people.

He finally looked away, and she sniffled loudly, the ring bouncing against her skin as she stepped into the diner.

[timelordthirteen]

Merry and Bright

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, G

Summary: Mr. Gold tries to take in the Christmas makeover his house has been given.

Notes: Another prompt, another Skin Deep call back. Because I am 100% That Bitch. For the 31 Days prompt #21: bright.

[AO3]

“Well, what do you think?”

Mr. Gold stared up at his stately Victorian house which up until now had loomed over the cul-de-sac at the end of Forest Lane the way he imagined a dark wizard’s castle would over a fairytale kingdom. During the holiday season, when all the other houses were adorned with lights and decorations, his was the lone hold out. But that was before the arrival of Belle French, who breezed into sleepy Storybrooke, and reopened not only the library that had been boarded up for nearly thirty years, but his heart right along with it, through the sheer force of her will and determination.

In the last two years, she had become the light and love of his life, and so, when she requested his permission to decorate the outside as well as the inside for the holidays, he was helpless to do anything but agree. However, upon seeing his home bedecked in lights, garland, bows, and wreaths, he was admittedly having some second thoughts.

“It’s very...bright,” he remarked, frowning slightly.

Belle pouted and turned to face him. “Too much?”

The way her face fell made his chest ache, and he immediately wanted to retract what he had said. His eyes moved from her to the house, scanning it top to bottom, taking in the way the simplicity of the single candles - fake, of course, but very warmly lit - in each window balanced the spray of brilliant white lights covering the shrubs at the front. The garland swagged along the railing of the porch was set with a vibrant red bow at each end, and lit with even more white lights. Luminaries outlined the curved sidewalk from the porch to the street, made of vintage looking white lanterns that were, in reality, all weather plastic with LED lights inside.

He supposed, overall, that it was very well put together, and didn’t really detract from the look of the house, but rather made it seem inviting and merry. It was not unlike what Belle had done for him in bringing him back into the world and showing him all its good parts again. She made him believe he could be a better person, and he’d done everything in the last year to prove it to himself and her, including making up with his long estranged son.

It could have been far worse. There was a home one block down whose yard was full of every possible and ridiculous inflatable Christmas decoration, including one depicting a Santa Claus trying to escape up a chimney whilst having his pants pulled down by a dog.

A shudder went through him at the thought of a bare arsed Kringle on his lawn, and he shook his head, reaching for Belle’s gloved hands.

“I - I could take it down,” she offered, but he hushed her with a soft kiss.

“No, no, it’s - it’s fine,” he insisted, finally smiling in the glow emanating from his uncharacteristically festive house. “There’s no need. I’ll - I’ll get used to it.”

[timelordthirteen]

Alabama, Arkansas

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Teen

Summary: Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my ma and pa, not that way that I do love you.

Notes: Title is from the song Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros which I heard on my drive to work today and got inspired. For the 31 Days prompt #3: home.

[AO3]

“Come home with me.”

Gold’s voice was soft, just enough above a whisper to be heard over the din of the party. Their breath mingled between them, hot and smelling faintly of hot cocoa. Belle licked her lips, smiling as his gaze was drawn to the small movement.

“Yeah?” she asked, her eyebrows lifting. She’d been in his home exactly once, despite the fact that they’d seen each other naked more than a dozen times, but all of those had been in her small apartment.

“Yes,” he replied, pressing her back against the wall. “I want you in my bed. I want to make you scream and then make you breakfast in the morning.”

She swallowed. “What about - about Neal?”

The mention of his son’s name made him smile. “He’s staying the night at a friend’s house, won’t be home till morning.”

Gold’s hand started to slide up under her skirt, his warm palm spanning her thigh and drawing her leg up to his waist. A tiny whimper slipped out as she pulled him back down for another kiss, her fingers sliding into his newly shorn hair. He said he’d needed a change, something fresh, something different, but she wasn’t sure the change he was ready for was for their relationship to be out in the open. But like hell if he was taking her back to his place that she was doing the walk of shame at six in the morning just so his ten year old son wouldn’t see that she was there.

Belle pulled back, breaking the kiss, and panted for breath. “What about - in - in the morning?”

Gold’s tongue pushed at his bottom lip and his hand flexed where it held her thigh as he grinned. “I’ll make enough pancakes for all of us.”

“I’m home!”

Gold winced as the bundle of plastic bags banged against his leg in his efforts to shut the front door.

“In the kitchen!” called Belle.

He maneuvered the bags to his other hand as he wriggled out of his overcoat, and then hurried down the hall. His shoes squeaked against the tile floor as he came to a halt in the doorway, his eyes going wide at the sight before him. The entire island, end to end, was covered in all manner of debris, and in the center was a towering structure oozing something red and slimy.

“We made a volcano!” Neal exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. “It’s for the science fair at school.”

Belle bit her lip and mouthed ‘sorry’ at Gold, her expression almost pained. Gold looked down at the bags he’d carried in, containing all the things he thought he might need to make something that resembled the volcano his son had requested as his project for the science fair, and shook his head. He had no actual idea how to make it, but he did know how to find instructions on the internet, and he was fairly certain he pull of something that at least bubbled over respectably.

What had taken over half of his kitchen was something else entirely, and was on the whole very impressive. He should have known that Belle was far better equipped to help him construct such a thing. He’d take her brain over the internet any day.

“Well, I can see I’m surplus to requirements,” he said, his mouth curving.

“I’m sorry,” Belle replied, coming around the island to stand next to him. “He asked and I saw we had all the right stuff, and I might have...”

“Done a fantastic job.”

She startled a bit and looked up at Gold. “I was going to say carried away, but thank you.”

He smiled at her. “No, it’s absolutely amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Yeah, she is,” Neal said, moving next to Belle and wrapping his arms around her to pull her into a sideways hug.

She put one arm around him, squeezing him back before ruffling his hair, and Gold felt his heart swell. Then his eyes scanned the slope of the mountain, trailing down the ragged border of the volcanic caldera, which he assumed to be made of paper mache or some such, and then stopped at the edge of the butcher block counter. Three rows of ten or more small figures were scattered around the bottom of the mountain as the red sludge slipped downward towards them.

“What are those?” he asked tentatively.

“Lego men...?” offered Belle hesitantly.

Neal grinned at both of them. “Those are the villagers fleeing from the lava!”

“When are you coming home?”

Belle sighed heavily on the other end of the call. “We talked about this. I’m not.”

Gold’s eyes closed as his hand squeezed the handle of his cane. “Belle, please -”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, fighting to keep the tremble out of her voice. “Just don’t. I’m tired and I can’t do this anymore.”

“But I - I love you.”

His body shook as the first tears fell, his legs wobbling and threatening to send him to the floor of his shop. He knew it was too little too late. The damage had been done, and he deserved nothing less than her censure and derision. Leaving was the best thing for her, and all he could hope was that she found happiness wherever she went. Telling Neal that she was gone was something he couldn’t even contemplate at the moment, but he vowed to make sure that the boy would put no blame on her.

“I know.”

Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it, and then the call ended.

“Let’s go home.”

“Home?” Gold asked, unable to restrain the hope in his voice.

Belle nodded, her eyes tearing over as she pushed up on her toes, throwing her arms around his neck. He hauled her against him, his hands holding her as close as possible as he buried his face in her soft hair and kissed the side of her neck. Her fingers trailed through his hair, a little longer now than when she left, as her other hand squeezed him tighter.

They separated after another minute, and Gold shook his head. “Why did you come back?”

“Because this is where I belong.” She smiled, her head tilting to the side. “And because I love you.”

A chilly wind stirred her skirt where it stuck out beneath her wool coat a second before his lips met hers. There was a whoop and a whistle from somewhere nearby, but neither of them cared that they were being seen by everyone passing by the bus stop on Main Street.

“Belle!”

The voice made them break apart, and Belle finally let her tears fall as Neal came bounding towards her.

“You’re home!”

She wrapped her arms around the boy and kissed the side of his head, noting that she barely needed to bend anymore to hug him properly.

“Yes,” she said, looking over Neal’s shoulder at Gold, and holding out her hand to pull him into a hug as well. “Yes, and I’m never leaving again.”

I’m home. Is it safe?

Belle smiled at her phone and tapped out a reply before she peaked through the front curtains.

They’re asleep. Coast is clear.

Gold eased the front door open and kicked the snow from his shoes against the mat as quietly as he could. Belle came down the hallway, reaching out for the packages that filled his hands. She hefted them up on her arms and then went through into the living room.

“How long did it take?” he asked quietly, shrugging off his coat and then following after her.

The fire cracked and snapped, and Gold shivered as the heat hit him.

“Two rounds of Green Eggs and Ham,” she replied, bending down to the floor. “I waited an extra ten minutes before I texted you.”

He nodded and moved to help her, slipping the wrapped presents out of the bags and stacking them beneath the twelve foot tall Christmas tree. The entire room was bathed in a soft, warm glow while outside the snow was falling in fat, heavy flakes. The drive from the shop, where they’d stashed the presents, back home had been less than ideal, but it was the only place they’d could think to keep them with a pair of inquisitive twins around the house. They’d recently figured out how to work doorknobs and their favorite activity was taking turns shutting themselves in the upstairs linen closet.

“There,” Belle said sitting back. “Think we overdid it?”

Gold eyed the pile of presents, some of which were for Neal and his girlfriend Emma, and one in particular that was for Belle, though she didn’t know it yet. “For a family of ten, no.”

She giggled at that and swatted at his arm. He caught her hand and pulled her into him, making them both topple over onto the rug in front of the fire. A soft grunt escaped him, which a moment later turned into a low rumble as his wife pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Gold,” Belle said slipped off her robe to reveal dark green lace and silk.

He licked his lips and reached for the thin little straps at her shoulders. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gold.”

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 10/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Gold and Belle have a little moment.

Notes: Because I am me and I will write every possible version of this scene in every possible fic forever. Sorry this is so short. Christmas program at school and other activities limited my writing time so I had to bump some things to the next chapter. :( For the 31 Days prompt #12: tea

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Gold took a sip of his tea and glared at Jefferson over the rim of the cup.

"All I am asking is that you consider it," Jefferson said. "It's been years since you've seen anyone, and -"

Gold set his cup down, frowning. "What good will it do? They either won't understand my situation, or they will confirm what we already know to be true." He stared at a spot on the tablecloth for a long moment and then sighed. "Or worse, they'll know it for what it is, and after that, the entire kingdom will as well. You know too well what will happen next."

Jefferson nodded and slumped down in a chair on the other side of the table as Gold took another drink. He made a face at the bitterness and gave the cup a suspicious look.

"Needs more sugar," he said, reaching for the small, covered bowl.

"Yes, well, I had to make it stronger. Again."

Gold glanced up at Jefferson before adding a larger than usual scoop of sugar to his cup. "I will be fine in a few days, then we can go back to normal."

He rubbed at his leg absently, and Jefferson shook his head. Gold was entirely too strong willed, which meant he wasn't about to do anything that wasn't his idea, even when it was in his own best interest. His leg had been troubling him since he returned from the palace, well over a week ago, and Jefferson didn’t dare make the specially brewed tea too strong. Gold’s tolerance had grown over the years, but dulling the pain didn’t solve the problem.

“If it’s not better by next week, then -”

Gold sighed again and set down his empty tea cup. “Then I’ll see the physician, this Dr. Whale, or whoever he is.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson said, gratefully. Then he stood and gathered up the tea set, pausing to give Gold’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “I hope it’s better, and you can tell me I told you so.”

Gold smiled up at him and nodded. “I’m sure it will be.”

They’d been fortunate that it hadn’t snowed again, and even warmed up for a day or two, allowing more of the outside work to get done, and more firewood and coal to be stockpiled. It also meant that Gold and Belle had been spending more time together, taking walks together around the grounds, which let him tell her all the stories of his efforts to refurbish Thornhill after he was gifted it by the King. The whole place had fallen into disrepair after years of being unoccupied, and the surrounding land had been left to grow wild. Even the farmland that bordered the estate was ill used and infested with all manner of ground vermin.

He’d spent a great deal of time restoring it, living in an empty tenant house down the road until it was finished, and then immediately started work on the grounds. The name of the estate, Thornhill, had come from the myriad rose bushes, thorny shrubs, and briars that grew on the land and in the nearby woods. The people who farmed the land in and around this particularly county had started calling it that as a joke, but Gold being the stubborn bastard that he was, kept it as a homage to what it once was and would never be again if he had anything to say about it.

Belle had listened with rapt attention, marveling at how beautiful everything had turned out. She even agreed that keeping the name was perfect, and the way she’d beamed up at him, the corners of her eyes wrinkled with amusement, made him forget what he was going to say. Every time they parted, whether it was because he needed to see to some business, or in the evenings when it was time to retire for the night, left him feeling strange. It used to be that he was thankful for the last quiet hour or two of the day, when it was just him and his thoughts.

Now those hours seemed almost lonely, and the snap of the fireplace was too loud in the room without the soft chatter of Bae and Belle going on in the background.

Gold sighed and pushed back from the table to stand up. Now that the tea was working, the pain had subsided, and he could walk without leaning on his cane like an old man. He lifted his coat from the back of the chair and pulled it on, pausing when he noticed that Jefferson had left one of the tea cups behind. He rolled his eyes, and picked it up, deciding that he would drop it by the kitchen before he was forced to close himself in his study and finish the monthly ledgers.

He walked to the door of the drawing room, reaching for the handle, but it opened without him touching it, and then immediately after Belle walked straight into his chest. They both staggered backwards, eyes wide and hands raised, and Gold had to catch himself with a hand on the wall to keep from falling over.

“Oh!” Belle exclaimed, stumbling as her left shoe came part way off. “I’m so sorry!”

Gold shook his head and pressed a hand to his chest where his heart was pounding harder than it had in some time. “It’s no matter. Are you alright?”

She wiggled her foot back into her shoe and nodded. “Yes, yes I’m fine.” Then she looked down at the floor between them and her face fell. “But I’m afraid your cup isn’t.”

He watched as she bent down and picked it up, confused until she straightened and held it up with both hands, her lips turned down in a small pout. “It’s chipped.”

Gold stepped closer and took her hands in his, holding them as he examined the damage to the tea cup. There was a small notch in the middle of the rim on one side, noticeable only because the chip disrupted the thin blue line that encircled it.

“You can hardly see it,” he said, meeting her eyes. She looked like a child who’d been caught doing something naughty, and she was looking at him as though he was meant to chastise her. His head tilted as he smiled at her. “It’s just a cup.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he said, taking the cup from her hands. “There’s at least twenty sets in this house, we’ve cups to spare.”

She exhaled, relieved, and reached out to brush her finger over the chipped spot. “I suppose now it has character.”

“Sort of like its owner?” He grinned.

Belle gave him a look and then laughed. “Well, if you’re chipped it’s hardly my fault. I didn’t knock you to the floor.”

“No, I’m afraid that happened ages ago.” Then he sighed lightly. “If you’ll excuse me I need to return this to the kitchen.”

She followed him out of the room, and walked with him down the corridor towards the kitchen. “I was wondering if you might show me the stables today?”

Gold’s lips curved crookedly. “I would be delighted, but I’m afraid I have some work that needs attention first. Shall I come find you in the library after lunch?”

“How do you know I’ll be there?” Her eyebrows lifted, and he gave her a look that made her erupt in a delightful giggle, her blue eyes flashing brightly. “Yes, after lunch will be fine.”

He was grinning widely at her as she turned, brushing against him in the narrow space, and he reached out to touch the wall, feeling as though he might fall over again.

[timelordthirteen]

Night Shift Chapter 2

Mr. Gold/Lacey French, Mature

Summary: Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth? Call you a bitch and leave?

Notes: Well of course this is a thing. I'm sorry I'm like this. I have no idea what I'm doing. For the 31 Days prompt #6: cider.

[AO3]

Gold didn’t know what had possessed him to walk into Granny’s Diner at eight-thirty on a Thursday night in December.

For the past two weeks he’d been lingering in the shop later and later. At five he would flip the sign to closed, and turn off the lights in the front, his car parked in the back alley instead of on the corner out front.

With near perfect regularity, Lacey would come walking down the opposite side of the street at five fifteen. She wouldn’t stop, as she had done that night when they’d looked across the street, seeing each other for the first time in a year and a half. She would walk straight into the diner, without so much as a glance cast in his direction, and start her shift exactly on time.

He knew because he watched. He stood like a besotted fool, in the dark, in the front of his shop, looking through the window blinds. It was almost a surprise to see her given how long it had been. Before that, he’d begun to wonder if she had left town entirely, but he was fairly certain if she had that information would have made it back to him.

At some point, he started contemplating what might happen if he went over there, into the diner, and ordered a cheeseburger with extra pickles as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. As if her blue blouse wasn’t still buried in a laundry basket at his house, unforgotten, but patently ignored. As if nothing of note had ever happened between them.

Somehow contemplating had turned into acting, and in a fugue state, as if he was outside his own body, he marched across the street.

The diner was nominally busy for a snowy weeknight, but Lacey was stuck working by herself while Ariel was getting over a rather nasty case of bronchitis.

Granny was in the back, putting together pans of her famous lasagna and prepping for the inevitable holiday pie orders that would start coming in the days before Christmas. The holidays were something Lacey was fiercely ignoring this year, both because her father was a drunken jerk any time he had a day off, and because she didn’t want to remind herself of how much better things were when you had someone in your life that you cared about.

She spun around behind the counter and hung two tickets on the rack, shouting to Billy, the cook, not to put too much mayo on Sheriff Graham’s club sandwich. The ring at the end of her necklace moved beneath her white blouse, tapping gently against her fair skin. She didn’t know why she bothered to wear it anymore, but it felt strange when it wasn’t there, so she kept up the routine and tucked it down where no one could see it.

There was a shift in the din of the room, and she turned around, gasping softly when she saw him standing by the door.

Gold’s jaw tensed, and he tipped his head up, shaking the flakes of snow from his hair.

He strode over to his usual table, in the corner by the window, took off his coat, and sat down. His cane leaned against the booth, and he picked up the menu as if he suddenly needed to study it despite almost two decades of coming here. After a few minutes, he set it down and looked up. Lacey was standing behind the counter, staring at him, and he straightened in his seat. There were two orders on the ledge behind her waiting to be delivered to their tables, but she didn’t move until Billy shouted at her.

Gold watched as she picked them up and took them over to Mary Margaret and David Nolan, who in turn twisted in their chairs to give him a strange look. He bristled a little at that, annoyed that what he was doing was being so closely observed. When Lacey didn’t come over, he almost got up and left, but he was here and he wanted to see how she might behave.

If she completely ignored him, then he’d have the answer to the question he refused to ask, and he would go back to never seeing her again.

“Can I get some service?” he said finally, raising his voice just enough that he knew Lacey could hear him.

She visibly sighed, and ran a hand through her hair, then pulled her pad out of her apron pocket.

“Apologies, Mr. Gold,” she said flatly, giving him neither a false smile nor a scowl. Her face betrayed no outward sign of emotion at all. “What can I get you?”

He looked up at her, startled by how close she was just standing by the table. Her eyes were fixed on the order pad, pen poised to start writing as soon as he spoke his order.

“Hot cider, please.” Then he swallowed. “And some apple crisp.”

She bit her lip and noted his requests. “A la mode or regular?”

He sighed and his voice softened. “I think you know the answer.”

Lacey gave him a stern look and repeated her question.

His eyes narrowed. “Did you forget everything about me, Lacey?”

Abruptly, she tucked the pad back in her apron, and gave him the briefest look, her eyes making contact for no more than a second. “It will be out in five minutes.”

Lacey hurried back behind the counter and went over to the coffee maker, clenching her hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

As they did every winter, they’d replaced one of the large percolators with a heated pot of spiced apple cider as soon as the first snow had fallen. Before, coming in for two mugs of cider and a shared bowl of warm apple crisp topped with vanilla ice cream had been a regular occurrence for them. Now, here he was, the bastard, invading her sanctuary, asking if she had forgotten everything she knew about him - as if that was possible - and ruining one of the few things she still liked about the season.

She huffed out a breath and filled one of the mugs with cider. The steam rose up and the pleasing scent of spices wafted passed her nose as she moved to retrieve one of the pans of apple crisp from the pie cooler. She shut the lid just a little too hard on it, her frustration breaking through the calm, unaffected facade she’d put on. Her jaw tensed, her teeth grinding in anger as she felt Gold’s smug gaze following her every movement as she prepared his order.

How fucking dare he.

After warming the crisp in a bowl in the toaster oven and finishing it off with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, she set everything on a tray and resolved to not let him get the best of her.

Gold’s fingers drummed softly on the table until Lacey came back with his order.

His stomach wasn’t the least bit hungry, and the smell of cinnamon and apples was as unappealing as week old chicken salad. He looked up, and a second later a searing heat spread over his thigh sending a sharp stab of pain through his leg. A cry wrenched itself from his throat and he pushed back from the table, standing up so quickly he knocked his cane to the floor. He stumbled to the side, catching himself on a chair, and looked down.

The right side of his trousers were covered in a splatter of hot cider that could have only come from one source. His eyes met Lacey’s, and he snarled at her.

“What the fuck?”

Lacey’s mouth hung open and her eyes went wide.

She had thought about walking over and dumping the hot cider right in his lap as she was loading up the tray, but apparently she’d actually gone and done it. The liquid wasn’t scalding hot, thought it must have hurt a fair bit to make him cry out that way, but she hoped that was more surprise than pain.

“What the fuck?”

The look on his face was a combination of confusion and rage, a look she’d only seen once before when he was beating Keith Nott senseless, and it made her take a step back.

Gold came towards her, limping heavily without his cane, and wincing. “You could have burned me!”

He opened his mouth to say something more, but at that moment Granny came out from the kitchen.

“The hell’s going on here, Gold?”

Lacey spun around, her face red with shame. “I can explain -”

“Nothing’s going on, Martha,” he said, stepping forward and raising a hand. “It was just an accident. My fault entirely.”

Martha Lucas put her hands on her hips and eyed Gold steadily. He never admitted fault, much less in a public place, and Lacey was sure she was going to be fired. Granny Lucas had given her a lot of leeway over the years, but this was the kind of thing Gold was likely to take out on both of them by raising the rent or having the city reassess the property taxes on the inn.

Granny didn’t seem to believe Gold, but there wasn’t enough evidence to prove otherwise, so she huffed and admonished Lacey to clean up the mess immediately.

Lacey exhaled in momentary relief, and went to get a rag. When she turned around again, Gold was gone.

[timelordthirteen]

In Need of Rescue

Sir Rumplestiltskin/BelleFrench, G

Summary: Belle and Sir Rumple at a Solstice festival ball.

Notes: This is crap and I'm sorry. You all deserve better from me. For the 31 Days prompt #10: dance.

[AO3]

The Solstice festival was Belle’s favorite time of year.

She loved the little clusters of tea lights on every table, the pine bows hung over the hearth, and the scent of spiced cider that lingered in the air. The days were short, but that was a fair trade for all the parties and feasts celebrating the coming end of another year. Winter would settle in for good soon, shifting from wispy little flakes easily battered about by the wind, to the wet, heavy drifts that would block the door. She was especially partial to all the dancing, and she grinned as her friend Ruby came twirling by.

She’d taken a break after three consecutive rounds of the dance floor with Lord Le Fleur’s son, Gaston, for no other reason than to save her aching feet. Gaston was a clumsy oaf of a man who made her feel insignificant every time he was near. Physically, he was entirely too big for someone as petite as her to dance with, and mentally, he was, quite frankly, an idiot. She rolled her eyes as Gaston tried to make eyes at her from across the room and turned away, scanning the space for any possible escape should he decided to find her again.

Then her gaze landed on someone with whom she very much wanted to dance, and she sighed.

Sir Rumplestiltskin had been assigned to her family and the protection of Avonlea for going on ten years. He wasn’t the most imposing man, only a head and a half taller than she was, but he had a presence that made people sit up and pay attention. They could sense his wisdom and experience, and the kind heart that lay beneath his armor. His words came with a kind of calm understanding, and the soft Frontlands brogue had enraptured her from the first moment she heard it.

To say she harbored a crush on the older knight was an understatement, but she knew it was entirely one-sided. Several times in the last hour alone, she had convinced herself that she was going to go over there and ask him to dance. It should be easy, simple even, do the brave thing and all that, the same thing she’d been telling herself since she was eight. She was a noble lady and he was a noble knight, they were equals and good acquaintances besides, having spent many an evening talking, or walking the gardens.

And yet she remained in her spot near the table where her father sat playing cards with Lord Midas and Duchess de Vil.

Gaston started to make his way across the room, weaving through people with his eyes fixed directly on her. He’d had several cups of mulled wine, and she knew he would be even worse this time around. She’d probably have bruises from fending him off, and her eyes closed as she groaned internally.

“May I have this dance, m’lady?”

Belle’s eyes opened wide, her lips parted slightly as the familiar voice washed over her, and she turned to find the warm, smiling gaze of Sir Rumplestiltskin looking down at her.

“Um,” she glanced towards Gaston who stumbled over his own feet as he tried to maneuver around a table, and then immediately accepted. “Yes, yes I would love to.”

Rumplestiltskin offer her his arm, and lead her out onto the floor of the ballroom just as Gaston righted himself and realized he’d lost his opportunity. She put one hand in his and rested the other on his shoulder as his settled at her waist. The song changed to a waltz Belle knew well, and they fell into step with each other, moving easily around the space. She felt like she was in a daze, her eyes fixed on his as the rest of the room faded out of existence until it felt like they were the only ones in the room, the orchestra playing just for them.

Sir Rumple raised their joined hands up, spinning her out and then back, and when they came back together again, she laughed. He smiled down at her, and she felt him pulled her close, her face barely an inch from his. If she moved the right way, or pushed up on her toes a hair, she could kiss him, and her breath hitched. He leaned towards her as their movements slowed, and she stopped breathing as he brought his lips to her ear.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said quietly, “but it looked like you needed rescuing.”

Her heart sank. Of course he hadn’t really wanted to dance with her, he was just being nice and giving her an excuse to avoid Gaston. Her next step was the wrong direction, bringing her silver heel down on the top of his foot.

Rumplestiltskin grunted, and she immediately pulled away. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s no matter,” he said, with only a slight grimace. “Really. I’m fine.”

She moved out of the path of the other dancers, and he followed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, see?” he replied, stomping his foot a few times to demonstrate. “No harm done.”

Her body sagged. “I am sorry though, truly, I’m almost as bad as Gaston.”

He grinned. “I think you’re far better than that lummox.”

She laughed and looked away, wondering where the man in question had gone, and hoping that he had found someone else to harass.

“Did you, um, need a drink?” Rumple asked.

Belle shook her head. “No, I’m - I’m fine.”

He tilted his head and reached for her. “Are you sure?”

His hand brushed her arm gently, and she couldn’t help the shiver that went through her. “Yes…I - I think -”

Her voice was slightly hoarse and shaky, and he stepped closer. “Belle…”

She looked up at him and blinked, feeling her face flush with heat. “I think I need to step outside.”

Rumple guided her along the wall to the set of doors that opened onto the balcony, and followed her out into the evening chill. She sucked in a deep breath of the dry, crisp air and let it out slowly, feeling her pulse thump in her neck as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

A moment later, something warm and heavy settled on her shoulders, and she opened them to see Rumple standing in front of her, adjusting the clasp of his velvet brocade cloak over the front of her dress. His hands ghosted along the front of her dress, his knuckles barely touching the laces.

“Rumple,” she breathed, reaching out on impulse to grasp his forearm.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Belle.”

“Thank you,” she managed. “For - for the dance. And - and the rescuing.”

He gave her a slightly crooked smile and ran his hands up and down her arms, pressing the warm fabric against her. “Anytime.”

Then he stepped back and gave her a brief bow, dipping his head down and then up, which made his hair sway over the high collar of his coat. She tried to say something else, but by the time she found the words, he was already back inside, standing guard by the door until she was ready to come back in herself. She pulled the sides of his cloak around her and breathed in his scent, smiling as her eyes traveled up and down his form on the other side of the glass.

After a few minutes, the cold started to get to her, and she pushed her way back inside. He helped her undo the clasp and remove his cloak, draping it over a nearby chair. When he turned around, she was standing there, holding out her hand.

“May I have this dance, Sir?”

Rumple’s eyes widened, and she started to smile as she stepped closer.

“And this time,” she said, “it’s not because I need rescuing.”

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 6/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Astrid arrives, Belle gets a tour of the house, and spends some more time with Bae.

Notes: Ugh this chapter sucks, I'm sorry. It didn't go where I wanted it to. For the 31 Days prompt #4: dress. t.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Astrid arrived the next day, just before afternoon tea.

Belle momentarily forgot what had been troubling her in the midst of her delight at seeing her maid and friend again. It felt as if part of the world had righted itself for a while, and she busied herself helping Astrid get settled in a room on the east wing. Ms. Potts seemed equally pleased by the new arrival, and wasted no time in showing Astrid around the house, including the kitchen and back stairs the servants used to slip in and out of where they were needed.

Astrid, for her part, was a nervous wreck, nearly knocking over a vase on the way passed the music room, and slipping on the steps down to the root cellar. Belle couldn’t stop smiling as she finally got a full tour of Thornhill, though she doubted she’d be able to remember her way from the gallery to the formal dining room any time soon. The library, however, was already permanently etched in her mind.

The sound she made when Ms. Potts opened the double doors made Astrid giggle, and Ms. Potts looked over her shoulder knowingly.

“This is the main library,” she explained to Astrid, marching across the room to open a row of curtains and let in some light.

The walls of the library were floor to ceiling shelves with ladders set on rails as was the custom in most estates and manors, but these were larger and wider than Belle had seen before. They seemed more like a full set of stairs than a ladder, and she caught herself imagining how easy it would be to climb all the way up and fetch the books on the highest levels. The windows Ms. Potts revealed looked out onto the side yard where a large willow tree loomed over a pond. The windows themselves were wide and set in a semi-circle which created large ledge that was covered with cushions.

Belle’s eyes went wide and she immediately went over to it and brushed her hands over the plush, soft pillows. It was the perfect place to sit and read when it was too cold or wet to be outside in the garden.

“You said this was the main library?” Astrid asked. “Are there...others?”

“There’s a small book room upstairs near Lady Belle’s chambers,” Ms. Potts replied, fussing with the candles on the fireplace mantle because they weren’t lined up properly. “It used to be a bedroom, but m’Lord had the shelves added shortly before m’Lady arrived.”

Belle startled a bit at that and felt her face flush. Somehow knowing that Gold had put the shelves in so close to their wedding made her think that he had done it specifically for her, and she wondered how he knew she liked to read so much. Had he spoken with her father or one of her acquaintances? He had seemed curious about her reading habits when they’d run into each other in the library at Avonlea, but not entirely surprised. The thought that he’d done it because she might like it, because it would make her feel more at home, only made his behavior yesterday more confusing. Someone who would be that thoughtful towards a woman he had never met before the moment they married, couldn’t possibly be the same person who would yell at a friend so harshly.

Astrid grinned at Belle. “Your own book room?”

She shook of her thoughts and nodded to Astrid. “I haven’t begun to fill it yet. All the books I brought with me are in my bedroom.”

“I doubt that’ll ever change,” Astrid said playfully. “But one of the trunks I brought with me is full of even more books.”

Belle squealed in pleasure and pulled Astrid into a hug, twirling her around on the rug in the middle of the room. Ms. Potts rolled her eyes, but she was smiling all the same as she lead them out of the room.

Belle left Astrid to unpack her things, and retreated to her bedroom.

Two trunks had been delivered while she was traipsing around Thornhill, following Ms. Potts. The smaller of the two was the one Astrid spoke of, and was filled with four stacks of books from the library at Avonlea. She sorted through them briefly, and saw that Astrid had brought most of her favorites as well as a few mythology and history books. Though the library here seemed more than well stocked, she wondered if Bae might like to use them in his lessons or perhaps read through them with her. She liked the stories about the old gods, about the magic that they say used to bind the world together and the creatures that time had forgotten.

The second trunk was more of her clothes, but as she laid her things out on her bed, she began to frown. She hadn’t purchased new things in a while, not since she learned of the financial troubles her father was in, and as a result a lot of her dresses and skirts had started to tatter and fade. The colors weren’t as bold as they once were and the hems were tinged from dragging through the dirt and grass as she walked the gardens. She was a bit afraid to ask, but she thought perhaps Gold would allow her to buy a few new things soon. The solstice was coming and if they were going to attend any celebrations or have one of their own, a new gown would be in order. She remembered his letter mentioning that Bae’s birthday was just before that as well.

Perhaps there would be other occasions as well, there was a ballroom downstairs after all, and a large formal dining room. It had been ages since she’d been at an event or a ball. The last was Ariel’s wedding, and that was nearly two years ago now. She couldn’t picture Gold as the type to want to socialize, but then again he was often at the king’s court, or so she had heard. It would be something to broach with him later, after she’d settled her mind a bit more.

It was at least an hour until supper, so Belle decided to try out the desk in the lounge across the hall from her bedroom and write her father a letter. He would want to know that she was alright, that she was safe and settled, and that Astrid had arrived as well. The light from the southwest facing windows was wonderful at this time of day, and she found herself feeling a bit more content as she pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and uncapped the inkwell.

The light scrape of the pen was soothing as was the familiar motions of her hand as she wrote out Papa in large, scrolling letters are the top. She paused and smiled, pleased to recall that Bae had called Gold the same thing when he’d come into the drawing room during breakfast. It was a small thing, but still something they had in common, that made her feel just a little bit of a connection to the boy.

She wrote that she was well, that Astrid was well, and that they were both getting settled. She told him of the lovely gardens and urged him not to worry, that she would write more soon. Her hand paused on its way to dip the pen again, and she worried her bottom lip. Instinct told her to add that she would come to visit, but she didn’t know for sure that she would.

Leaving Avonlea had seemed so final that the thought of going back left her uncertain. If she did would she ever want to leave again? Would it be harder the second time? What about the third or fourth? Would Gold want to come with her? Sighing, she quickly added her name at the bottom with the perfunctory ‘your loving daughter’ closing. There would be time to discuss visiting Avonlea later.

Just as Belle was folding the letter to seal, there was a knock against the open door. She turned and saw Bae standing there, a book in his hand, and smiled.

“Hello there.”

He stepped into the room cautiously, as if he wasn’t sure he was invited.

“It’s okay, you can come in,” she said, slipping the letter into the drawer of the desk. “If I wanted to keep people out, I would shut the door.”

He gave her a small smile and came closer. “I thought maybe you’d want to read another chapter with me? Jefferson says I should try to finish it by the end of the week because Grace is already done.”

He huffed a little at the end, and Belle thought he seemed a little sad. “Grace?”

“Jefferson’s daughter,” Bae explained, shuffling over to the small sofa. “He gives us both lessons, but she’s smarter than I am and always getting ahead of me.”

“I’d be happy to read some more with you,” Belle said, moving to join him on the lounge. “And don’t worry about being slower than someone else. Everyone goes at their own pace. What matters is that you take your time and learn.”

Bae seemed to think on that for a moment, and then nodded as he opened the book.

Gold limped down the corridor, leaning more heavily on his cane than usual.

His leg was killing him today, as it often did after too much travel. Though his carriage was fairly large, sitting in one place for too long and not moving made the muscles tight, and it would take another day or so of hot baths and Jefferson’s special tea to get back to normal. The sound of laughter made him smile in spite of his aches, and he moved towards it.

The door to Belle’s drawing room was open, and he knocked on the door frame as he stepped into the space. Bae was sitting at the writing desk and Belle was bent over him, watching whatever it was that he was doing. She looked up, smiling, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, and with the glow of the setting sun beaming in through the windows at her back, it looked like she was light itself, pushing into all the dark corners.

“You didn’t tell me you were the father of a master artist,” she said. Bae glanced up at her, his smile soft and crooked.

Gold came over to the desk and looked down from the other side. Bae had drawn the head of a horse in the middle of the page in black ink, presumably from Belle’s pen. It was quite good for a ten year old, with the mane flowing out behind it as if the beast was in a full gallop.

“It’s supposed to be my horse, Cassidy,” the boy explained. “But the nose isn’t right.”

He frowned, and Belle tsked. “It looks just fine to me.”

“Indeed,” agreed Gold, exchanging a small look with Belle over his son’s head. “I think it looks just like him.”

Bae didn’t seem convinced and shrugged. “It’s not, but thanks.” He moved to crumple up the paper, but Belle stopped him.

“Oh, please don’t do that, it’s lovely!” She slid the paper off the desk and held it in her fingertips. “Would you allow me to keep it? There’s a couple of empty books in my little library, we could start a portfolio.”

Bae scrunched up his face. “What’s a port - portfolio?”

“It’s what all good artists keep their work in so they can show other people.”

He seemed very pleased with that and smiled. “Sure! Can I help you put it in?”

She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “Of course. Come it’s just across the hall.”

Gold felt the same feeling as he had the night before as he watched them walk together to Belle’s book room. Seeing them getting along and even bonding was more than he could have hoped for so soon. Bae hadn’t been very accepting of his plans to marry, and he’d been afraid that the inevitable strife of the early days might harm their future relationship. Of course, he shouldn’t have worried. Belle was a dear, sweet woman that one couldn’t help but find charming. And it certainly didn’t hurt that she was alarmingly pretty, especially when she was so close that he could see the little flecks of gold in the center of her eyes.

He swallowed and straightened, rather abruptly, and tightened his fingers around the handle of his cane as the sudden shifting of his weight made his calf cramp.

Belle turned, frowning. “Are you alright?”

Gold forced a tight smile and nodded. “Yes, I was just, uh, just going to get something in my room.”

He made to leave, but stopped just outside in the hallway. “Would you, um, would you want to join us for dinner this evening?”

“Oh, I think I -”

“Yes, please, Belle?” Bae interrupted. “We could read more of my book after.”

She smiled at Bae, and then looked up to meet Gold’s eyes. Her expression was strange, and Gold got the sense that she wanted to decline, but didn’t want to hurt his son’s feelings. He mentally kicked himself, and was about to come up with an excuse to help her out of it, when she turned to Bae and smiled.

“Of course I would.”

Gold blinked and then nodded. “Yes, um, yes good. We usually eat at six.”

Belle met his gaze again, and he could see her shoulders shifting, tensing, and the bob of her throat as she swallowed. “Good.”

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 13/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Gold, Belle, and Bae travel to Avonlea, but the homecoming is not what Belle had hoped for.

Notes: So I’m a lying liar who lies. I wanted this chapter to be so much longer, and then I ended up spending much of my day cleaning the dumpster that my house had become. There’s a whole other part of this chapter that unfortunately will have to wait until tomorrow. So sorry. For the 31 Days prompt #15: friends.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

Belle sat back on the bed in her old room and sighed.

The trip from Thornhill to Avonlea seemed to take less time than the reverse trip had just six weeks ago. The landscape was blanketed in snow of varying thickness, and passing through the forest in the daytime, with the sunlight glittered off the ice on the tree branches, was quite enjoyable. She hadn’t had the chance to appreciate all the beauty during the first trip, as much of it had passed in near darkness, and she was far too busy feeling awkward and terrified at the same time. The sun setting as they approached Avonlea, bathing it in an orange and pink glow, took her breath away, and for a moment she felt a pang of homesickness.

Baeden had fallen asleep for the last hour, having been roused earlier than usual that morning. He was still tired from the excitement of his birthday besides, and when he slumped over against Gold’s arm, Belle couldn’t hold back a smile. Neither could Gold, and they spoke softly for the rest of the journey, when they spoke at all. She watched the two of them whenever she had the chance, admiring the closeness they seemed to share, and wishing that her own father was not so distant to her now.

They arrived just before six, and Belle immediately went to see her father, anxious to settle her mind about his letter. Except the steward, a man named Milton that Belle had never quite trusted or been comfortable around, stopped her. He told her that Maurice was resting, not to be disturbed. The news upset Belle, and she began to insist that she be allowed to see him, until Gold intervened.

He suggested they all wait until morning when clearer, less hungry and tired heads might prevail. She had to admit that he was right, but now that she was sitting in her old room, she found she was still irritated about the whole thing. No one would have kept her from her father before now, she was sure of it, and it raised her suspicions even more.

Exhaling, she pushed to her feet and walked over to the fireplace to add two more logs. She liked the room warmer to help her fall asleep, and right now she felt too nervous to even try, even as the heat from the fire felt searing through her nightgown.

There was a knock at the door as she was pacing in front of the hearth, and she snatched her robe off her bed on the way to answer it. For a brief second she hoped that maybe her father had heard she had arrived and came to see her, but as she crossed the robe over her chest and tied the ribbon at her waist, she knew that was probably unlikely. For all she knew Milton had imprisoned her father in his room like a villain in one of her novels.

Belle opened the door a crack, her eyes going wide in surprise when she saw who had come to her door so late.

“Cameron.” Belle stepped back, opening the door further.

“Belle,” Gold said softly, glancing down the corridor briefly to see if anyone else was up and about, before meeting her gaze. “My apologies in coming to see you so late, but you were quite upset earlier, and -”

He paused and fiddled with his cane, noticing suddenly that she was in her nightdress and robe, which were both a soft blue fabric edged in ivory lace. They crossed over her chest, low, leaving a large swath of creamy skin exposed, broken only by her hair laying over her right shoulder in a thick braid wound with a yellow ribbon at the end.

“And?”

Her eyebrows lifted at him, and he shook himself. “And, uh, I wanted to see if you were feeling better.”

She gave him a small smile and stepped back into her room, folding her arms around her middle. “Not really.”

Gold hesitated for a moment, and then followed her into the room, letting the door ease closed behind him. He had to remind himself there was nothing untoward about them being in the same bedroom together, in fact most would have assumed them to be sharing space since they were married. They’d accepted separate bedrooms when they arrived, which wasn’t out of the norm, but if anyone knew where he was now, they wouldn’t think anything of it. Except every evening he said goodnight to her in the hallway, and watched her walk the opposite direction to her room.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked finally.

“I’ve never had anyone keep me from seeing my father,” she said. “Ever. Not even when the King came here and they were in council together.”

Gold was taken aback and gave her a wide-eyed look.

“I was eight,” she continued, starting to smile, “and I barged in unannounced, and Papa scooped me up, and asked me what I needed. Just like that. He completely ignored the King, to talk to me first.”

He chuckled at that, and shook his head. “I’m sure King George was furious.”

She shrugged and turned away from him, holding out her hands towards the fire. “I didn’t care. But now it’s - it’s all so different. We haven’t been that close since...”

My mother died, she didn’t say, but Gold knew what she’d omitted. The young Lady Collette had died just after her thirtieth birthday. Belle would have been ten or eleven at the time, much older than Baeden when his mother had left, old enough to have tinged all her memories with grief. He swallowed hard and squeezed the handle of his cane.

“Your mother.”

She nodded and looked back at him over her shoulder. “Y-yes. That was a turning point for us, for everything around here, really.”

Gold stepped closer, coming up just behind her as the urge rose up in him to reach out and try to comfort her, but he wasn’t sure she would want that from him.

Belle sniffed loudly and looked down at her hands as she fiddled with the end of the ribbon around her waist. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?”

“For letting me come here to check on things. For understanding why I needed to.” Then she turned around and put her hands over his where they were folded on the handle of his cane. “And for looking in on me. For caring.”

Her face tipped up to look at him, and he was startled by how near she was, how it would take nothing at all to touch his lips to hers. The thought was so shocking that he stepped away, needing to put space between them before he grossly overstepped and did something they would both regret.

“It’s - it’s no matter.” He quickly turned and walked to the door, stopping with his hand on the wood. “If you like,” he started, “in the morning I could speak to the steward. Milton?” Belle nodded and bit her lip. “I could tell him I have business to discuss with Lord Maurice, I doubt very much that he would refuse me.”

She smiled and shook her head, taking a few steps forward and tugging on her robe where it crossed low over her chest. “Thank you, again, but no. If he refuses me again in the morning, then I will deal with it.”

Gold’s head tilted. “We will deal with it. You’re not alone in this, yes?”

A strange expression came over her face for a moment, and then she nodded. “Yes.”

He pulled open the door, and stood in it as he looked back at her. “Goodnight, Belle.”

“Goodnight.”

After Gold left, Belle laid there for some time, watching the flames of the fire flicker and dance.

Her mind refused to calm enough to let her fall asleep, switching between worrying for her father and worrying for Gold. Whatever was wrong with him, whatever had upset Bae, was still there. It was the reason he needed his cane sometimes, and while there was nothing wrong with that, it bothered her that she didn’t know what ailed him, or if it was the reason he seemed to want a wife who wasn’t a wife.

There was also the fact that she was home, but not. Somehow, in the short time she had left, she’d become a stranger here, in the one place that had always been comfortable. Her mother’s passing had been a turning point, not only in her life, but in her relationship with her father. They remained close from the outside, but the truth of it was that neither of them could quite get passed it. It was the elephant in the room every day, looking at each other all the while knowing someone was missing.It was as though time was marked in two halves, before and after.

She was an outsider in Thornhill and a stranger in Avonlea, the woman who belonged nowhere.

Her face felt tense and she rolled onto her back, pressing her hands to her eyes as they began to burn with tears. She took a deep breath, and stared up at the canopy over her bed. The funny thing was, that of the two places she was suspended between, the one she seemed to want to go back to the most was Thornhill. It had beautiful gardens and walking paths, her book room, and it had - friends.

Belle wiped at her eyes, her fingers coming away wet. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but in the last few weeks she’d gone from feeling all alone to feeling like she was becoming part of something, that she was welcomed by Jefferson and Bae, and even Gold, into the little family they had made. Maybe her life was being further divided into before she was married, and after, where the after seemed strangely brighter and more hopeful.

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 5/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: After Gold leaves, Belle discovers some of the wonders of the garden, and makes a new acquaintance. Later, Gold returns home to a surprising scene.

Notes: I don't know why this chapter was a struggle but it was. It's like my brain wants to get to the meatier chapters and move faster, but I can't just yet. For the 31 Days prompt: light.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Belle pulled her shawl tighter around her as she followed the path through the hedgerow.

Beyond the hedges were two neat columns of flowers intermixed with tall, wispy grasses, and shrubs with broad, dark leaves. She smiled and inhaled deeply the scent of red and pink roses and white wisteria, the chill in the air forgotten in the rapture of the garden still in full bloom and bathed in the warm sunlight. The two rows of flowers bordered a small park space with a cluster of multicolored petunias surrounding a small fountain. There were benches on either side of the water feature, and she crossed to one of them and sat down. The sound of trickling water was quite pleasing, particularly when paired with the occasion twittering of birds.

It was nearly idyllic, and she imagined she might be able to spend many hours in the spring and summer in such a setting. Indeed, retreating to the calming embrace of nature could end up being a welcome respite from the stilted companionship she might otherwise find inside Thornhill. Sighing, she twisted on the bench and trailed her fingertips through the water.

“Ah,” came a voice. “Here I find you at last.”

Belle looked up, shaking the water off her hand and quickly wiping it dry on the edge of her shawl. A man was coming towards her, wearing a red velvet coat with long tails above a pair of dark striped breeches and tall leather boots. His hair was dark and wavy, and his attire was bold and slightly mismatched, though not so much that any one part of it was out of place when taken with the whole. On his head was a top hat in a style that had gone out of fashion a number of years ago, yet also seemed to suit him, surprisingly.

She blinked and started to smile as she took in his appearance. “I was not aware that I was lost, sir.”

The man grinned widely and then stopped to give her a low, sweeping bow, complete with a flourish of his hat. “Well, you couldn’t possibly be now that you are found, could you?”

She let out a soft giggle and shook her head at his strange, but charming turns of phrase. “Indeed I could not, but then how would I have known that I was in the first place when I knew perfectly well where I was?”

He tipped his head back and laughed, holding his hat in his hands in front of him until his glee had subsided. “Oh, you are a delight, aren't you,” he said as he came to sit beside her. “I’m Jefferson, the Steward, and general jack of all trades around this place.”

He held out his hand to her, and she stared at it for a moment before finally taking it and allowing him to give her a firm handshake. It was an odd and unexpected greeting, but it pleased her in a way she couldn’t explain. It seem to fit with the rest of him, eccentric, charming, and endearingly strange.

“Belle,” she replied. “And it’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Jefferson.”

“Just Jefferson, my lady.” Jefferson let go of her hand and looked around the garden. “And how are you finding the natural splendors of Thornhill?”

“I’m finding them very well. And, please, you must call me Belle, I insist.”

“As you wish,” he said, giving her a slight tilt of his head and a smile. “So, Belle, would you care to take a turn with me around the garden?”

At her nod of agreement, he stood again and offered her his arm. They strolled slowly away from the fountain, following a stone path through a second hedgerow. On the other side, the path widened and curved downward, winding along a small hill with a series of steps and landings, lined with trees on either side that shaded the walkway. At the bottom Belle could see another layer to the garden made of shaped shrubs set in planters. The paths among them were made of flat tiles that outlined each of them in a square and themselves formed a pattern of ever increasingly larger squares, the biggest of which outlined the entire area.

She gasped softly, and Jefferson smiled at her.

“A bit much, isn’t it? It seems to go on forever.”

Belle looked at him oddly. “Whatever do you mean? I think it’s wonderful to have so many terraces and gardens, though it might take me all spring to become properly acquainted with them.”

He chuckled lightly. “It might indeed. Though take care with the maze, lest you get lost in it for the whole of summer.”

Her eyes widened and she laughed. “Lord Gold mentioned a hedge maze to me on our trip here. It sounds like a fine adventure.”

“Lord Gold,” he repeated with a small shake of his head and a gentle pat on her hand, “so formal with your new husband?”

She stiffened and looked away. It would have been easy to take that as an opportunity to pry into the details of his earlier discussion with Gold, a matter that for the most part she’d managed to put out of her mind. In doing so she would expose her unintended eavesdropping, and the thought made her face heat.

“Well, I don’t mean to be, but I have to confess that calling him by his given name still feels wrong.”

Jefferson nodded. “Yes, I imagine so. Your situation is - unique.”

Belle flashed a smile. “That’s certainly a word for it. I fear that it may take some time to come to terms with everything that’s happened, and to find out I might fit in here.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he said, “you’ve done admirably with me so far.”

She grinned again, finding Jefferson’s manner appreciably easy and comfortable, and wishing that her husband's could be the same. “I haven’t met very many people so far, and I’m afraid that apart from Ms. Potts and you, I haven’t had the best of luck.”

He frowned and lead her passed two tall shrubs trimmed to look like birds with long tail feathers. “Have you been properly introduce to young Bae?”

She blew out a breath. “Oh, I have, brief as it was. I don’t think he found me very impressive.”

“Well, he is a ten year old boy, not much impresses him beyond animals, mud, and sweets.”

“True, but -” She sighed and they stopped walking for a moment. “I feel like it was more than that. I feel like he was cross with my very existence.”

Jefferson gave her a sympathetic look and tucked her arm back in his as they continued on. “I have to admit that he wasn’t keen on his father’s plan to marry, but he won’t take it out on you, he’s not like that. I trust that his dismay will be short lived as it usually is, give him a few days.”

Belle pondered his words as they made their way back to the manor house, winding through the first level of the garden. He lead her on an extra lap around the fountain at an increasing pace, each trying to outdo the other by walking faster and faster, until they were both laughing at their shared silliness. She felt her heart lighten of its earlier fears. There may be secrets between Gold and her, and an indifference from his son, but Jefferson was on his way to being a dear friend and she was most grateful for it.

They came to stop at the doors into the drawing room, still laughing together, when Jefferson pulled Belle around to face him, his hand holding her arm gently.

“Belle, if I may caution you a bit, Gold is - well, he’s - he’s…” He stopped and sighed, rolling his eyes at himself. “Complicated is perhaps too harsh, and I don’t want to speak out of turn.”

“Speak honestly,” she said, her head tilting to the side, “and there shall be no censure from me, not ever.”

He gave a short nod at that and exhaled. “I have known him for some years now, and I am proud to call him a friend in spite of his demeanor. But I promise you that he is - he is more than he seems. Does that make any sense?”

Belle gave Jefferson’s hand a squeeze and nodded. “Yes, I believe I understand you. Thank you, Jefferson.”

“Would you care for some tea?” he asked, holding the door open for her to pass ahead of him.

“Tea sounds lovely.”

Jefferson made his way to the kitchen, preferring to fetch the tea tray himself, rather than ring for Ms. Potts, and Belle made herself comfortable on the lounge in front of the fireplace. Her eyes drifted over to the table where she and Gold had their breakfast just a couple of hours ago as she fiddled with the ends of her shawl. His note had put her in such a bright mood that morning, but Bae’s reaction to her presence and Gold’s gruff tone with Jefferson had disrupted her mood. It was silly, but she couldn’t help it. She felt as though there was nothing to ground her, or give her a sense of purpose in this place, and she could only hope that when Astrid arrived things would feel a little more normal.

Jefferson’s words had also left her a bit confused. They felt like a warning, as if he was trying to tell her that the sharpness and anger she’d heard from Gold was more true to his personality than the gentle awkwardness she’d known so far. But coming from someone who counted Gold as a friend such an implication seemed out of place. She knew she needed some time to think on it, and wondered if she might beg off having dinner with Gold when he returned and have some time to herself in her room.

A moment later, Jefferson returned with a silver tea tray in his hands which he set on the table. He was followed by Baeden who was excitedly informing him of all the names of the kittens he’d visited. The way he rattled off the names and described what each one looked like was as impressive as it was sweet, and Belle smiled as she watched Jefferson pour the tea.

“Well, Bae, it sounds like you’ve had quite a morning already,” Jefferson said. “I wonder that you’ll have any energy left for your lessons this afternoon.”

Bae made a face. “It’s not sums is it?”

“Bae…”

He let out a plaintive whine and slumped. “I hate sums. Can’t we do more reading instead? I’ll do a whole chapter, I promise.”

Belle pressed her lips together, remembering when she had made nearly the same argument to her governess.

Jefferson straightened with a cup and saucer in his hand and eyed Bae. “You made the same deal with me yesterday as I recall… You’ll not trick me again, young Master Gold!”

Bae huffed. “Fine.”

With that Jefferson turned and offered the tea to Belle, who accepted it readily as Bae suddenly realized there was another person in the room.

“Hello,” she said, smiling.

Bae looked down at his shoes and then met her gaze. “Hi.” A beat later he turned to Jefferson. “Can we have cakes with the tea?”

Jefferson whirled around on his heel, sending the tails of his coat twirling out behind him. “Hmm. I’m not sure…”

“Please, Jefferson? We can’t have tea without cakes!”

“Oh, can’t we? Is that illegal now? Has there been a royal decree I’m unaware of?”

Bae gave Belle a pleading glance, and she bit her lip.

“What say you, Belle?” Jefferson asked. His eyes darted to Bae and then back to her as his lips twitched.

“I’m afraid I must agree,” she said with a feigned heavy sigh. Bae's face fell for an instant, and she bit her lip as she grinned. “Tea without cakes is simply not done, Jefferson.”

Bae let out a whoop of victory and beamed at her, and she felt the tension in her body ease. The boy came to sit next to her on the sofa, swinging his legs over the edge as he gave Jefferson a rather imprudent look. Conceding defeat, Jefferson pressed a hand to his chest and departed to the kitchen for a platter of small cakes and cookies.

Gold returned well after dark, much to his dismay.

His business in Amsburg had taken far longer than necessary, and had not come out as well as he’d hoped. Combined with the travel, it had put him in quite a coarse mood, and he hoped that Belle had not waited on him to have dinner. He feared he would make poor company this evening, and he didn’t want to put her off. Even on some of his best days his tone could be rude and surly, and while Jefferson and Bae and most of the staff were used to it by now, Belle was not. He wanted to have an amicable relationship with her, especially as she was to be his son’s future guardian, and subjecting her to his darker moods would not help matters in that direction.

He waved off the maid inside the door and took off his own coat, laying it over the table in the hall before making his way to the drawing room. His leg was aching terribly and he longed for a hot bath and a brandy to ease his pains.

In the doorway, he stopped, and took in the scene. Sitting on the sofa near the fireplace were Belle and Bae, with a book laid open between them. Bae was reading aloud about a knight on a quest to slay a dragon as Belle listened and helped him with some of the harder words. Gold started to smile as an ache spread out from the center of his chest. It was a light, warm sensation, and for this small moment he felt as though he'd made the right choice. Bae seemed to have set aside his objections to Belle now that he'd met her properly, and he hoped that would be the end of that particular disagreement.

The floor creaked beneath his cane, and the two of them looked up in surprise.

"Papa!" Bae immediately set the book to the side and came over. "I was reading to Belle about James the brave knight."

Gold ruffled the boy's hair and smiled. "I heard. How was your day?”

“Good, except Jefferson made me do sums again,” Bae replied, giving Gold a small squeeze. “But I got to help name all the kittens.”

He chuckled. “Well, that’s very good. I’m sure you can tell me all about them tomorrow, yes? It’s time for a bath and bed.”

Bae sighed. “Can we finish the book tomorrow, Belle?”

“Of course we can. I’d be delighted to have you read to me some more. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Bae smiled and left the room, and a moment later, his fast, heavy steps could be heard on the stairs.

She shook her head and smile as she laid a ribbon along the book and closed it to mark their place. “And how was your trip?”

Gold sighed and sank down into an arm chair across from her. “Not as good as I wanted it to be. Seems like you had a much better day.”

Belle nodded, her fingers fiddling with the end of the ribbon where it stuck out from the middle of the book. “Yes, it - it went well. I met Jefferson, did a turn around the garden, and then we had tea with Bae.”

“Ah.” He leaned back in the chair and stretched his bad leg out in front of him, holding back a wince as the cramped muscles tensed. “Well, I’m glad he’s warmed to you a bit, though I am still sorry about earlier.”

She waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about it. He’s a young boy, and I don’t imagine I’d be very amenable to someone coming into my life unannounced.”

Gold frowned at her choice of words, but let it go. She hadn’t been entirely unannounced, but he couldn’t fault her for not knowing the full circumstances when he hadn’t been very forthcoming about telling her them. At some point that would have to change, but it had been a long day and he wasn’t in the right mindset for that kind of conversation.

“We, um, we ate dinner already,” she said after a moment. “We didn’t know for sure when you’d return and I was hungry so… I’m sorry.”

“No matter,” he sighed. “I’m not fit company anyway this evening.”

Belle gave him a strange look, and then set the book on the side table. “Well, goodnight then.”

Gold swallowed and nodded. “Goodnight.”

After she left, he sat for a while, ignoring both the hunger pains in his belly and the sharp throb in his leg as he stared into the fire. That moment when he’d come in the room and saw Belle and Bae together had struck a chord with him. Bae had been too young to remember his mother when she left, and she was back for such a short time that even though he’d been old enough to know her, he hadn’t formed much of a bond. It had always left Gold wondering if he should have remarried sooner, if he should have found his son a mother to help raise him. Perhaps Belle could become something of a mother figure, even though he knew Bae would likely never think of her that way. She could still help guide him down the right path and be his friend, she could be there for him later in life when there was no one else, when his father was gone too.

Pushing aside the maudlin thoughts, Gold made his way to the kitchen with the hopes of finding some food for himself, and turned his mind to how he might salvage his deal in Amsburg before the month was over.

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 4/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Belle awakens in new surroundings, meets some new people, and gets a hint of another side of Gold.

Notes: Here we go! This fic is now my focus for another 31 Days of Fandomas, so hopefully you can expect regular updates all month long. For the Day #1 prompt: chill.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3]

Belle awakened slowly that morning, stretching over the plush mattress and arching her back until the tension finally gave. She rolled onto her side, expecting to see the sun just rising, golden and bright over the garden, but there was no warm glow peeking through the gap in the curtains. The air in the room had a slight chill to it, and she realized that the fire had almost burned out overnight. She climbed out of bed and crossed the short distance to the hearth, carefully laying two logs across each other on the warm embers and blowing gently until the flames licked at them and finally caught. After warming herself for a long moment, she moved to the window and lifted aside the curtain.

A gray gloom blanketed the landscape, the fog so thick and damp that she could barely see more of the garden than last evening. The bright colors of the potted flowers were more visible, providing a stark contrast to the monotone morning light, but the cooler air signaled the coming shift from autumn into winter. Though the blooms would not last much longer, she hoped she might some of the garden’s splendor before the first snow.

She peered up at the sky and frowned. The sun was a faint circle, struggling to break through the mist as it sat high above the tree line. Usually, she awoke early, and was up and dressed by six, in time to see the last vestiges of night fading and watch the sunrise over breakfast, but the height of the sun had told her it must be nearly mid-morning. The small hand on the clock on her night table shifted towards nine, and she’d felt terribly embarrassed at having slept so late.

They must have arrived later than she had realized last night.

Before she could fret too much, she noticed a tray by the bedroom door and crossed the space to pick it up. It was silver and flat enough that it was likely slipped under the door, and in the middle of it was a folded piece of paper with her name written on it.

Immediately, Belle recognized Lord Gold's handwriting and started to smile. She set the tray on the little table by the sofa, and then sat down to read what she assumed her husband had left her.

Belle,

I hope that your first night in unfamiliar surroundings passed without incident, and that the morning finds you well and rested. I have some business to attend to this afternoon in the village of Amsburg, which should take me until early evening. If you arise early enough, I hope you will join Bae and I for breakfast. We usually eat in the smaller drawing room at the back of the house. You'll find it down the main staircase and to your left.

There is a bell to ring for the maids by the bed. I've assigned two young ladies to assist you in any way you require until your Astrid arrives.

Yours,

Cameron

Belle exhaled and folded the paper closed, laying it in her lap as she contemplated not only his words, but the fact that he had arisen early, written them, and left them for her to find. The closing felt simple and familiar, as if he often left her little notes. She found herself hoping that he might, and that in turn maybe she would as well, and they could both learn a little of each other without the uncertainty speech and uncomfortable pauses getting in the way. As she'd expected, she'd heard his voice quite clearly in her mind, and it left her pulse fluttering oddly and her lips curving.

She found the rope pull near the head of the bed, and after ringing it once, the two maids Gold mentioned appeared to help her get ready. She felt her cheeks flush as the two strangers helped her into her favorite blue dress over a soft, cream colored shift. The women were younger than her by at least a few years, and seemed pleasant enough, but they weren’t Astrid and the awkwardness of the situation made her stomach unsettled. She hoped that Gold would send for Astrid as quickly as he promised so she could have some familiar tether to her old life.

The click of her silver shoes seemed louder than usual as she made her way down the wide staircase at the front of the - house? Manor? She wasn’t sure what to call it. Avonlea had always been ‘the house’ or ‘home’ in her head, but Thornhill was so much larger and grander than either of those words conveyed. Gold had instructed her to go left at the bottom of the staircase, but she got turned around somehow, and had to make her way back to the stairs where a very tall, lanky man directed her to the drawing room with a bemused smile. It was just off the hall from the kitchen, and smaller than she expected. There was a fireplace against one wall near a round table set with five chairs, and seated at one of them was her husband.

Husband. She wondered if that word would ever stop sounding strange in her mind.

“Did you sleep well?”

Belle felt her face heat as she approached Gold, meeting his bemused gaze across the table. The plate in front of him was empty save for a scatter of crumbs, and there was no longer any steam rising up from the spout of the tea kettle. It appeared that he’d been long finished with breakfast, and his son was nowhere to be seen. Behind him, two sets of large double doors lead out to the stone patio, the one she’d glimpsed from her bedroom the night before, and which was still heavy with morning fog.

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Did you?”

His gaze quickly traveled up and down her form, as if he was appraising her old dress and worn shoes, making her fidget with the pleats of her skirt before she sat in the chair to his right.

He shrugged one shoulder, and set the papers he’d been reading aside. “As well as I ever do.”

“I must apologize, I’m usually up much earlier than this,” she added, her eyes glancing around the nearly bare table. A basket to her left contained several slices of bread and two small jars of fresh jam, and she pressed a hand to her empty stomach before it could rumble too loudly.

“So am I,” he sighed, leaning back in the chair. “But we arrived after midnight, so I supposed we’re both allowed an extra lie in.”

“Well, I think mine was a little more extra than yours.”

Her lips curved slightly as she reached for the bread basket, and she allowed herself a moment to take in his appearance. If he could quietly judge her, then she could likewise judge him, though his clothes appeared far more expensive than hers. He wore a gray coat with a high collar, though not as ostentatious as the one he wore at their wedding just a day ago. Beneath it was a coordinating waistcoat in the same fabric, but stitched with a diamond pattern in a silver thread giving it a slight luster and contrast that was quite attractive. A dark crimson ascot tied at the neck of his white shirt stood out vibrantly against the otherwise monochromatic palette of his attire.

He chuckled lightly and waved a hand. “It’s no matter.” Then he pushed back from the table and watched as she scraped the knife across the slice of bread she held still with her fingers. “Would you like something for breakfast?”

She glanced up at him, pausing with the knife. “I have something for breakfast.”

Gold’s head tilted and he made a face at her. “You have a slice of bread and jam, that’s barely anything at all. Please, I can ring for Ms. Potts, and have her bring whatever you like.”

Belle paused for a long moment, and then finally nodded, feeling awful at having been so late as to miss breakfast almost entirely, and at having to make the kitchen prepare more. “Thank you.”

Ms. Potts was a jovial woman with a kind, round face and a pile of silver curls tucked under a white cap. She fussed over the table, asking only how Belle preferred her eggs - soft boiled or poached, if she had a choice - and then departed to fuss over the kitchen staff, which they could hear down the corridor. Belle muffled a giggle with her hand, and Gold shook his head as Ms. Potts reappeared a few minutes later with a tray containing a soft boiled egg in a silver cup, a platter of sausages, more bread, and a fresh pot of tea.

“I’m so sorry,” Belle said, stopping Ms. Potts with a hand on the woman’s arm.

Ms. Potts gave her a strange look and glanced down at her hand. “Whatever for?”

Belle smiled at her. “For having to make a whole new breakfast just for me. I should have been ready earlier.”

Potts gave a quick shake of her head and patted the back of Belle’s hand. “Pay it no mind, dear.”

“Well,” Belle nodded, “all the same.”

Gold seemed to watch the exchange with interest, rubbing his bottom lip with his finger as his eyes kept darting between the two women until Ms. Potts finally departed.

“Better than bread and jam?” Gold asked, glancing at her as he poured tea for both of them.

Belle paused with her spoon raised, ready to crack open the egg, and gave him a small smile. “Yes, thank you.”

He waved a hand and set one of the cups down to the right of her plate, clinking it gently against the saucer. “I assure you that Ms. Potts doesn’t mind the extra work. She’s probably beside herself with joy that there’s another person in the house for her to fuss over like a mother hen."

"She seems very amiable," Belle agreed.

She had just put a piece of lightly toasted bread in her mouth, the corner dipped in warm, gooey egg yolk, when a young boy came bounding into the room. His steps were so quick and heavy that their tea cups rattled in their saucers as he came around the table, panting and nearly out of breath.

"Papa!" the boy exclaimed. “Moreen’s cat had kittens last night, and her mother said I can come see them if it’s alright with you. Can I go, Papa? It’s just across the field in their barn. There’s eight of them!”

Gold’s expression immediately changed, his eyes wider and his mouth widening into a grin. “Eight! My word, Bae, that’s a lot of little kittens.”

“It is,” Bae replied, his face suddenly serious. “But they’re waiting for me out front. Can I go?”

The way he drew out the ‘oh’ sound at the end in such a plaintive way, had Belle covering her mouth with her napkin. Her first glimpse of Gold’s son was already endearing, from his unruly hair that curled at his ears, to the way he bounced excited on the balls of his feet as he awaited his father’s permission.

“Perhaps you should say hello to Lady Belle before you go,” Gold said, motioning towards Belle. “We arrived home so late last night that I didn’t have a chance to make proper introductions. Belle, this is my son, Baeden. Bae, this is Lady Belle, my, um, my wife.”

Bae grew very still and quiet, and Belle realized it was the first time she’d heard Gold use that word to refer to her. She wondered if Bae had known what his father was doing in Avonlea, or if the appearance of a spouse was a complete surprise. The entire situation was confusing and Gold’s motivations remained something of a mystery, so it was entirely possible that his own son was in the dark as well.

She could feel a strange intensity in the boy’s gaze as he faced her for the first time, and she forced the most pleasant smile she could manage. “Hello.”

She received nothing except several seconds of a blank stare in return. Then he blinked once and his nose scrunched up a bit, his mouth flattening as if he was about to frown, but instead he gave her a short nod.

“Hey,” was his only reply.

Her face faltered, and a second later, Bae was looking at Gold again, insisting on an answer. Belle tried to turn back to her breakfast as father admonished son to be careful and to be back within a couple of hours, but she immediately felt out of place, like she was intruding on their little family.

Bae left the room with only slightly less exuberance than he arrived, and Gold sighed heavily.

“Sorry for that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m afraid my son can be rather single-minded.”

“It’s alright,” Belle replied. “Truly. I’m sure we’ll - we’ll get along just fine.”

Gold didn’t seem convinced, and after a few moments, he excused himself, saying he needed to finish some work before he left for Amsburg. Before he left he extended an invitation for her to join him for a late dinner, which she readily accepted. Her breakfast was pleasant, and as she ate the fog and gloom began to lift outside and her spirits with it. It seemed exploring the gardens and grounds of her new home was not out of the question, and the thought occurred to her that she might see if Baeden was willing to show her around once he had returned from the adventure of new kittens. She hoped that she was wrong in her earlier wonderings and that he wasn’t surprised by her being here, but that even if he was, that there was still the chance for them to have an amicable relationship.

Belle decided to change her shoes before she visited the garden, not wanting her short heels to sink into the damp earth, and returned to her room to fetch a pair of leather walking boots.

On her way back down the hall, she paused and gazed down at the other end of the long corridor where Gold’s rooms were. The way breakfast ended had left her unsettled, and before she tried to engage Baeden in any conversation she wanted to be sure of what he knew about the circumstances of his father’s marriage. She took a breath and strode down the hall, bypassing the path to the front staircase, and crossing into what she’d come to think of as Gold’s side of the floor. Her brave impulse carried her as far as the second door, when she heard Gold’s voice and stopped.

“Jefferson -”

A man’s laughter rang out in the space followed by a voice that was unfamiliar to Belle. “Come now, Gold, do you really expect me to believe that?”

Gold huffed, and she heard the thump of something hard against the floor.

“As my steward, I expect you to believe what I tell you.”

Belle swallowed and inched forward, only to stop again as the voices continued.

“I’ll believe you when I think you’re telling me the truth and not just putting me off. You need to be honest with her about what’s happening, it’s not fair to -”

“Enough, Jefferson!” came Gold’s angry voice. There was another thump, louder than the first, and Belle took a cautious step back. “I will not hear another word about it. It is mine to deal with, mine, do you hear me? And if you overstep even an inch, I swear I’ll -”

“Yes, yes,” Jefferson replied. “Fine. I’m sorry.”

Belle turned as she heard footsteps come closer to the door, and made her way back to the staircase. The tone of Gold’s voice had shaken her, the vehemence with which he spoke to his steward in sharp contrast to the gentle manner which he’d had with her so far, and she wondered at what could have angered him so. Whatever it was, she suspected it had to do with her and whatever it was that this Jefferson thought she should be told. Abruptly, she found herself at the bottom of the stairs, out of breath, and stopped for a moment to lean on the railing, before finding her way back to the drawing room and the doors that lead out to the garden. Something was being kept from her, something that Gold clearly didn’t want her to know, at least not yet, but she tried to put it out of mind as she stepped out into the cool autumn air.

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 8/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Gold arrives home from the palace, in a less than pleasant mood, and asks a very important favor of Jefferson.

Notes: I promise Gold and Belle are going to start getting closer soon, and we're going to get a bit more of Jefferson's backstory as well. For the 31 Days prompt #8: snow.

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

The trip home from his visit, four days later, did nothing for Gold’s mood.

His leg was killing him, and he longed to stretch out in his own space and drink tea made in his own house. The previous night had seen a chilling rain move through the region, leaving some portions of the road even bumpier than usual, and with an added slickness that made the carriage slow to a crawl at several points. He grumbled about it, but an injured horse was the last thing he needed, so he told himself to stuff his impatience and keep quiet.

Thornhill was a welcome site as they came around the bend, and he sighed. He was not fit company at the moment, but Bae was already out front, waving as the carriage rolled through the gate. Jefferson was next to him, but no one else, and he felt a small tinge of disappointment that Belle wasn’t there as well. No doubt she was glad to be rid of him for the week, and it was just as well, since there was now the matter of sorting out what had gone on between her and her previous fiance, Sir Gaston, that triggered a slew of rumors being spread around the royal court.

The scowl on his face must have conveyed all the information that was needed, because his own son took a step back, suddenly shy and nervous in the presence of his father, and Jefferson was suspiciously reticent.

“Bae,” Gold said tiredly, holding out his arm. Bae came forward and hugged him tight, and he exhaled heavily. “Did you miss me?” Bae shrugged, the corner of his mouth turning up, and Gold bent to kiss the top of his head. “Of course not, probably too busy causing trouble with Moreen and Grace.”

That perked Bae up a bit, and he immediately stepped back, shaking his head and looking affronted. “Nuh-uh, it was Grace who broke the dish, not me!”

Gold raised his eyebrows and shifted his gaze to Jefferson, who hung his head and sighed. The weight on his shoulders lightened a bit as he laughed, and Bae giggled too as wrapped his arms around Gold’s waist again and squeezed. Gold let out a grunt and feigned injury, but he was smiling too wide for it to be believed.

Coming home to his son had always been a balm for his soul, no matter how arduous the journey.

“Sir,” Jefferson said, “There’s a small matter that needs your attention; a letter that’s arrived from Mr. Humbert, but other than the incident with the plate, it’s been quiet.”

“Good,” Gold mumbled, reaching into the carriage to take out his satchel while his cases were unloaded from the back of the carriage. “Have those taken to the laundry. I need to change and freshen up, and then I’ll see you in my library, yes?”

Jefferson gave a short nod and a half bow as Gold strode into the manor.

A brief wash and a change of clothes made Gold feel marginally better.

Jefferson came to see him after an hour, at which point he’d already read through the letter from Graham Humbert, caretaker of one of his properties to the west, and reviewed the rest of the correspondence that had come in while he was gone.

“So it seems the issues with the orchard are continuing,” Gold said with a sigh as he let the letter fall to the desk.

Jefferson nodded glumly and mirrored him from the sofa near the fireplace. “At this point, we’re not sure what we can do. We may have to let some of it go fallow for the next year and see if it improves.”

Gold frowned. “That will reduce the yield even further. The King will not be pleased.”

“It’s already at a five year low,” Jefferson said with a shrug. “And the King, as you’ve said before, can ‘sod off unless he’s willing to get down in the dirt with the regular people.’”

That earned Jefferson a momentary smirk. “We have extra stores and extra funds, but we may need most of it to get through the winter. They’re still saying it will be one of the worst in a decade.”

The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, until Gold stood up. He moved to the fireplace and prodded at the logs as Jefferson watched him thoughtfully.

“Let’s hear it,” Jefferson said, stretching his arms out along the back of the lounge.

Gold frowned over his shoulder and then set the iron poker aside. “Hear what?”

Jefferson gave him an exasperated look. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you. It’s been evident since you returned.”

Gold exhaled and nodded, then moved to sit across from Jefferson in a high backed leather chair where he put his feet up on the ottoman.

“King George, he - he mentioned Lady Belle’s first engagement.”

Jefferson’s head tilted. They had both known that Belle was supposed to be married to Sir Gaston and that after only two months the whole thing had fallen through, but the particulars had never been divulged. Gold laid out every detail of what the King had said, his hand curling into a tight fist as he recounted the implication that Belle had taken other suitors and perhaps tried to entrap multiple eligible men into marrying her by getting pregnant.

“Ridiculous,” Jefferson said, his usually gentle voice sharpened by derision and irritation. “Lady Belle is far too sweet for any of that nonsense. She doesn’t have a manipulative bone in her body!”

Gold’s fingers tapped against the leather arms, drumming lightly on the brass rivets that went along the sides and front. He wanted to believe Jefferson was right, but something was nagging at him about the whole situation, beyond that his new wife was being talked about at court so distastefully.

“You don’t believe it, do you?” Jefferson sat forward, frowning. “You can’t, it’s - it’s -”

“Undetermined,” Gold finished.

Jefferson sprang to his feet, flipping his long coat out behind him. “What?”

Gold raised a hand to settle his friend and stared into the fire. “Something happened between her and Gaston, and now Gaston is spreading lascivious rumors, but -”

“But what?” Jefferson nudged Gold’s feet aside and sat down on the ottoman, facing him. “It bothers you that you don’t know the truth, and you won’t feel like you can trust her until you do?”

He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes before nodding slowly. “I don’t like it, but I can’t shake it.”

“You could ask her you know.” Gold looked up, eyes wide, and Jefferson shook his head. “It’s the simplest solution, and she has a right to know that she’s being slandered.”

“Yes, I’m sure that will go over well.” He looked from Jefferson back to the fireplace. “My Lady would you be so kind as to tell me all the terrible details of how your first engagement was broken and nearly ruined your family for good?”

Jefferson snorted. “Well, I imagined you’d be a little more tactful and eloquent than that, but if you want her to throw a teapot at your head, then so be it.”

Gold swallowed and looked down at his hands as he fiddled with his ring. “You could do it.”

“Pardon?” Jefferson leaned forward and dipped his head to catch Gold’s gaze. “I’m sure you’re joking.”

“You’ve done it before, it’s -”

“No.” Jefferson stood again and crossed his arms. “We agreed that was over. No.”

“Jefferson, please -”

“Cameron!” he hissed.

Jefferson’s eyes were wide and pleading, and Gold felt a pang in his chest. He knew that asking this might damage their friendship forever, but he needed to know the truth if he was going to trust Belle with everything. With his son. More than that, he felt an obligation to protect her reputation, now that he’d participated in sullying it. If there was something in her past that could be used to harm her in the future, and it brought harm to Bae as well, he’d never forgive himself.

“This is for Baeden, not me,” Gold said softly. “I have to know. I don’t want anything to be used against her, and if it’s all bollocks as we think it is, then I want Gaston to pay for whatever he’s done to her.”

Jefferson took a breath and leaned against the mantle, resting his head on his forearm. The heat from the flames warmed his leather boots until they felt like they might melt before he straightened and then turned to Gold.

“Fine,” he said evenly. “But this is absolutely the last time.”

Gold inclined his head. “Agreed.”

“And,” he continued, “Grace gets Hampton House.”

Gold’s eyebrows lifted and his mouth opened in a soft ‘oh.’ “Making a deal, dearie?” Jefferson’s glare could have stopped a bear in its tracks, and Gold sighed. “Fine, yes.”

Jefferson gave a quick nod and tugged on the lapels of his jacket. “Good.”

His steps were sharp as he walked to the door of the study, and Gold sagged in his chair. “It was going to be hers anyway.”

Jefferson stopped at the door and turned around, meeting Gold’s gaze as he leaned around the side of the chair. “Hampton House. I was going to wait until she was sixteen and sign it over to her. Pretty young girl, with a sharp wit, a house, and an inheritance all her own? She could marry anyone she wanted.”

Gold pushed up and stood to face Jefferson. “I just want my boy safe and cared for, the same as you want for Grace.”

“And Belle?”

Jefferson’s stare was hard, and Gold nodded solemnly. “Her too.”

They seemed to agree on that, and Jefferson left without another word. Gold dropped back into the chair and leaned forward, his face in his hands as he breathed in and out steadily. He hated asking his friend to do such a thing, especially after their shared history, but he needed to know the truth and Jefferson was the only one he trusted to do it discreetly and thoroughly.

With another heavy sigh, he pushed to his feet and rang the bell for the maid. He would take his dinner in his room as he was even less fit for company now than when he arrived.

Jefferson stewed for two days before he got down to the business of making inquiries about Lady Belle and Sir Gaston’s engagement.

He started by trying to prod Belle into just telling him what had happened, but all his subtle hints went unnoticed, and he was afraid to be more blunt for fear of pushing her away. He had come to respect and care for Belle in a very short time and was happy to consider her a friend. One day he was certain they’d be dear friends, and he was glad that Bae and Grace would have her in their lives. Both children had lost their mothers young, and while he and Gold did they best they could as fathers, he knew having a mother was a different thing entirely. He hoped that Belle might be that for them, the kind, strong, and caring figure they needed later in life.

He did manage to find out that Belle’s mother had also died when she was young, barely passed eleven, and it solidified even more that whatever stories were being told about her were untrue. She was far too good for all of that nonsense, but there was a hint of something in her countenance that was closed to him. He began to understand where Gold’s fear had originated, but he got the sense that whatever it was, it wasn’t known to anyone but herself.

That morning, he sent out letters to a few key contacts at the royal court, making small inquiries after Sir Gaston. He knew the man wasn’t well liked overall, and assumed it would be easy to find where the bodies were buried, hopefully only metaphorically.

He had just finished calculating the staff’s wages for the month, when Belle came into the downstairs study.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, starting to back out of the room.

“No, no, do come in.” He set the ledger book aside and returned the pen to its holder. “I was just finishing up.”

She eased back into the room, and he smiled. Her dress was a delightfully bright and springy yellow with white piping at the edges and a scrolling pattern of pearls around the bodice. The lace around the hem had clearly seen better days, but that was easily remedied. Ms. Potts was an excellent seamstress, as were two of the younger ladies, but he thought that fairly soon, she’d probably have a whole new wardrobe if she wanted it.

“So,” she started, drawing out the ‘oh’ sound, “how are you?”

“I’m well, you?” He moved from the desk to a chair near the window and gestured for her to take the other.

Belle shrugged. “Well, I suppose.”

He frowned. “That’s not very convincing. Would you like to try again?”

She gave a short laugh and then sighed. “I haven’t seen, um, Gold today. Or yesterday. I’m starting to think he’s avoiding me.”

Jefferson sat back, the fingers of his left hand fiddling with the buckle at the top of his boot as he absorbed that bit of information and made a mental note to speak to Gold. “He’s always a bit grumpy when he comes back from the palace, I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“It’s a bit hard not to,” she admitted. “Is he...grumpy often?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Only a little more than everyone else. There’s a lot of...pressure from the King to help keep things in order.”

“Ah.”

Jefferson remained silent for a long moment, but when she didn’t say anything more, he reached for her hand. She startled at bit at his touch, and he gave her a small smile.

“Are you alright?”

She took a breath, and then pulled her hand away. “I’m fine.”

“Again, not very convincing,” he said, starting to grin. “You would make a terrible actress.”

Belle gave him a momentarily scowl and then shook her head. “I’ve never been good at lying, I couldn’t get away with so much as a muddy shoe print on the rug as a child, and I had no siblings to blame it on.”

Jefferson laughed softly. “I’m afraid that at one time in my life, lying was as easy to me as breathing.” Belle frowned at him and he sighed. “That, I am happy to say, is all behind me.”

She smiled and rested her hand on his, giving it a light squeeze, and he felt his stomach sink. Lying was still entirely too easy for him, it was just that he actually felt the effects of it now, the guilt of it all burning its way through his soul. He reminded himself that this was better for all of them in the long run.

“The other day,” she began, “last week, actually, when - when we met in the garden?”

Jefferson swallowed. “Yes?”

“I, um - well, before that, I came out of my room and I heard - I heard you and - and Lord Gold.”

He blinked and something clicked into place as she nibbled on her bottom lip. He and Gold had one of their spirited arguments that everyone at Thornhill was more than used to, but it occurred to him that someone new such as Belle wouldn’t know the kind of relationship he had with his friend and employer. She wouldn’t understand that Gold’s snappishness and sarcasm was well matched with his own, and that there was never any offense meant. He’d only been trying to coax Gold into being honest with Belle about his situation and Bae’s, which he’d given up on for now.

“Ah,” he said finally. “Well, that explains things.”

Her head tilted. “I don’t understand. He was so -”

“Loud?” he offered. “Abrasive? Rude?”

Belle shifted in her seat. “Um…”

Jefferson chuckled. “All three?” She gave him a sideways look and then nodded. “Oh, darling, don’t mind him. We’ve always been like that with each other, and truly there is no offense meant or taken. I was pushing him to do something, and he was pushing back, that’s all.”

She seemed uncertain and began to pick at a loose thread on her skirt. “Oh. Well, I’m sorry I overheard.”

“Did it...scare you?” he asked, sitting forward.

“A bit, maybe.” She looked out the window and then back to him. “I barely know him, and I didn’t know what to think.”

His look was soft and sympathetic, and he reached for her hand, pressing it between both of his. “His bark is far worse than his bite, that I can promise you. He’s like an old toothless dog.”

That made her laugh, and he grinned, basking in the lovely sound. Lady Belle of Avonlea was truly a gem, and he knew that once they dealt with this nasty business with Gaston, that all would be well.

“I was actually looking for him earlier,” she said. “I was hoping we could - we could talk.”

He patted the back of her hand and agreed. “Yes, I think that would be a very good idea.

Belle leaned her forehead against the cold glass, watching as the little puffs of breath from her nose fogged the window.

What Jefferson had said about his relationship with Gold seemed truthful, and she felt better having said something about what she heard, even if it she had yet to broach the subject with Gold. Since he’d returned from King George’s palace, he’d been keeping to himself and the few times she tried to seek him out, he seemed to be well secluded somewhere in the house.

Jefferson insisted that if she was honest with Gold, he would be honest with her, and while she had no reason to doubt it, the thought of confronting Lord Cameron Gold about anything seemed daunting.

Do the brave thing, her mother’s voice echoed.

She let out a heavy sigh, obscuring the view momentarily. At the bottom of the window, snow had begun to accumulate, and she shivered before turning away from the window to draw the curtains.