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thestraggletag · 5 years ago

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The Deal, a RCIJ Fic

Author’s Note: It is I, @iatethebiscuit, your Secret Santa! So happy to say I had NO panicky “DID I HIT THE ANON BUTTON?” moments with you this year, which was a pleasant surprise. Thanks for letting me be your santa and for giving me ideas and support! I hope this is to your liking and happy Christmas in July. which totally should be a real thing.

Also I’m sorry that the summary absolutely BLOWS this time around but I promise it’s a good story!

Prompt: Is the baby okay?

Summary: To wish for a child is a dangerous thing, Belle knows. As it is to make a deal with a creature as old and as powerful as Mr Gold. But everything worth having required leaps of faith and bouts of bravery, including love.

Rating: M

She smirked, looking at the clock right next to the Children’s Corner to confirm that she had guessed right. As she had imagined it wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning. When he’d begun to visit her almost daily Mr Gold made a pretence of stopping by on his way to Granny’s for a lunch break, his entire demeanour as professional and as aloof as ever as he enquired after her child with the same tone as one might enquire after the weather. It was calculated and effortless at the same time and she marvelled at his capacity for subterfuge. If he hadn’t pulled the same stunt at least half a dozen times before she wouldn’t have noticed. She rubbed her swollen belly absentmindedly, smiling down at it.

“He’s been sleeping all day, but I can feel him moving now.”

She was sure it wasn’t a coincidence, sure that her babe could feel Mr Gold the same way she could sense him when he was nearby. She wondered what other people saw when they looked at him, since they clearly could not see what she did.

“Little one must be hungry.” His voice sounded concerned, but she couldn’t tell whether it was genuine or a pretext for what was coming next. “I think a trip to Granny’s is in order.”

Belle was sure he was convinced she’d forget to eat entirely if he didn’t remind her, and to be fair that did tend to happen from time to time, specially when she got her hands on an interesting book. He leaned forward, eyes glowing gold for a second, so faintly she barely caught it.

“You need the protein, dearie. Wee bairn is hungering for something bloody. I must insist.”

His smile was predatory and nowhere near human, and he kept it as she attacked a rare steak in front of him with relish, Ruby commenting on how it was good to see her eating so well.

“Baby’s gonna be a strong little wolf. Granny’s been knitting him an entire winter wardrobe.”

She made sure her friend was out of earshot before laughing.

“I can’t believe it still. No one’s said a peep about it. They just accept the baby, as if it’s completely normal that I just up and got pregnant one day.”

“I did promise you, my dear. And I never break a deal.”

Another shark smile, another flash of gold in his eyes and a bit of scales on his neck. And yet no one else could see it. She had been able to tell right away, though, even from afar. It hadn’t been the first time either, so it hadn’t shocked her. She had always been aware of things most people didn’t see, but hadn’t realised at first it was strange, because her mother had been like her too, had been able to see things that for most people weren’t there. People who glimmered, small creatures that blinked in an out of existence, beings that were see-through or disguised themselves as animals.

She’d hated it, after her mother died, for a long time. Especially during her commitment, when every glimpse of something other had felt like the universe mocking her. She’d had made her peace with it since then, and now saw her oddity as a nice gift from her mother, something to remember her by.

Even though she’d had always been able to see what others didn’t, she couldn’t say she’d ever encountered anything like Mr Gold. Ancient, for one, and powerful, dangerous in a way that had made her wary of approaching him at first. He’d always been cordial and courteous with her, but his reputation as a cutthroat dealmaker had put her off, even though the deals people talked about were not like the one she had in mind. To mix magic with a reputation like that could only spell trouble.

But her need had been too strong, so in the end she had caved in and sought him out, finding out his true name and summoning him. It was an old practice, out of style as he’d told her later, and had caught him by surprise. He above any other fae she’d been able to spot had mastered the art of adaptability: where others struggled and faded he changed and survived, thrived even. He hadn’t thought there were humans who could see into his true nature anymore, not unless he revealed himself.

Luckily he had been amenable to the deal, once she had explained it. A deal with a fairy for a child was as straightforward as it came, once upon a time it had been a common enough bargain for whoever was willing to pay a price. But now, with science and adoption, and the abandonment of the belief in magic and the old ways, it was a rarity. But science hadn’t been enough to help her conceive, and her mental history made adoption impossible in practice, if not in theory.

She had told him that, in the most succinct way possible, unwilling to share more than what was absolutely necessary. When he’d enquired about the potential father of the babe she’d told him there was no one to fill that position. Romantic love had never come easy to her, and certainly never the kind that she’d want to cement in such a permanent way. But she longed for family, for a child. He’d done it before, he told her, granted the wish for a child to a woman with no husband or partner.

“It’s not impossible, but it does come at a steep cost, particularly taking into account what I must contribute. Are you willing to pay it, dearie?”

Fifteen years was a lot of time to shave off her life expectancy, but not so much that it would mean leaving her child motherless before they reached adulthood, which was what she cared most about. He had gone into the back room of his shop, where she could tell most of the objects displayed were not what they seemed, particularly the old spinning wheel in the corner. He’d spun literal straw into Gold- if fit, given his true name- and had fashioned the thread into a small seed, which he had instructed her to ingest if and when she was ready. She had swallowed it with a glass of water the moment she was back at the library and had woken up with a white streak in her hair and her stomach roiling with what she discovered was morning sickness.

She had stopped by his shop to thank him, hugging him in her exuberance. He’d shied away in a manner that was a stark contradiction to his dangerous nature, fingers twitching nervously. He’d looked ancient then, atrophied in some way, before she blinked and his usual mask was back on. He’d congratulated her in a stilted way, assuring her that he always delivered on a deal and all that he detailed in it.

“You’re miles away, Miss French, and that steak’s getting cold.” He gently tapped her wrist, encircled by a gold woven bracelet. “My magic may give the child a lot of what he needs, but it can only do so much.”

She had almost forgotten how awful the first months of the pregnancy had been. Nothing had stayed down at first. Citrics in particular became revolting to her, as did a lot, if not most, of processed food. Everyone kept telling her it was normal but she grew concerned as she began to lose weight instead of gaining it. When she grew deeply scared she went to Mr Gold, who seemed genuinely offended she had not come to him sooner.

“I promised a healthy bairn, Miss French. You should’ve told me if that promise didn’t seem to be materialising.”

Gingerly, after asking her for permission, he laid a hand on her stomach, closing his eyes and frowning after a few seconds. When he opened his eyes again he looked at her in a strangely speculative way and sent her home with instructions to eat very rare meat and berries. The meal, as unappetising as it had sounded, was delicious and settled nicely in her stomach. No one commented on her new habit of purchasing meat daily- though her librarian budget rankled a bit- nor did they question her long walks in the woods in search of blackberries and the like.

She hadn’t expected to see Mr Gold once the problem resolved itself, though her energy was still flagging and she was having problems with falling asleep several times during the day. But he began to come to the library often, enquiring after a particular book or a topic of interest, and during the conversation he’d ask after the child, as if it was a passing concern. He’d get close sometimes, closer than what she was used to with him in any case, and his visage would turn less human than usual for a moment or two, as if his human facade slipped slightly.

It wasn’t until he found her dozing off in the Ancient History section that he told her of a notion he’d had for a while, that he could now confirm. He smelt magic around her, which he hadn’t before, and with the further development of the baby had been able to confirm the magic came from him. It was that what was leeching her energy, the wee one’s magical aptitudes developing, using her life force in order to do so.

“An unexpected development, for sure, but not entirely out of the question. Changeling children have always been rare, but nowadays they’re downright a near impossibility. The only time I’ve ever produced a child with only one human parent he was fully human himself, so I had no notion things would not be the same this time around. I do apologise for the inconvenience, Miss French, and have devised a means of helping you through the rest of your pregnancy.”

It was then that he gave her the gold bracelet, which shimmered in a way she knew had nothing to do with the metal it was made out of.

“It’s got enough of my magic to feed the babe. It should make things easier from now on.”

The bracelet had indeed done as he’d promised and soon she began to notice the increasing swell of her stomach. Though she had been afraid of what the townspeople would say, no one commented on it, and if they did it was only to congratulate her. Not one question about the father, or a snide remark on her single status. It was all as Mr Gold promised.

Magic worked mysteriously, but it puzzled her less than the fae himself, who kept turning up at the library or at Granny’s when she was around, something he had not done before. His interest in the child was soon obvious- “I aim to keep my end of the bargain, lest my reputation suffer.”- and surprisingly she found that she did not mind it. Aside from the fascination that his non-human nature inspired he was an old creature, and had lived a fascinating life. One that she could sometimes cajole him into share tidbits of with her, though at first with the clear intention of putting her off and curtail her curiosity. He told her of the wars he’d seen, the violence and horror of the days of old, when magic was much more plentiful and the greed of man and fae had done terrible things with it. He seemed surprised when that did not stop her questions of her welcoming his company, but it did not stop his visits, just changed them in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

He was a hoarder, of both stories and objects. It became usual for him to let her take a peek into the back room of his shop, often telling her about an item there and the power it possessed. Most of them had once been worthy of awe and fear, but time had leached their magic away bit by bit till little remained. Enough to make the object hum to Belle’s eyes and ears, still, but nothing that inspired the feelings Mr Gold did.

She offered bits of herself for every part of his long life he shared with her. Things about her mother and herself, the strange gift they both shared and the bond it had created. One particularly vulnerable afternoon he enquired after her time at the asylum, in hushed, respectful tones. He listened patiently to her recollection of it. Her father had had her committed, soon after her mother’s passing. He’d meant well, which he told her only made things worse, more painful. She hadn’t been able to reconcile with him before he’d passed away, and as she cried, holding on to the fae in a manner she had no right to, he told her he’d seldom met anyone so brave. He’d told her about the other child he’d created with no father, Baelfire, and how he’d also been brave.

“Too brave for someone who could die so easily, though I suppose I was lucky.”

He told her how his mother had made a second deal with him when the lad was around four, giving him up in exchange for riches and adventure, and how he’d raised him up as his own, which he was in a way. They shared enough in terms of blood for the child to be a vulnerability that could be used against him, so he’d taken him in. He’d raised him, thinking that he could one day make a deal with him for eternal life so they could be together. But the child had been too human, and had grown old and faded before his eyes.

It began to worry her, that. Her child, her son, would he be human enough to grow old and die? He didn’t want him to grow lonely, specially since she’d die sooner than even a regular human was expected to. Mr Gold, she’d learned, was painfully lonely, in a way she would never understand, as lonely as she had sometimes felt, particularly at the asylum. To live centuries alone, to watch his kin fade and die…

She had never met a creature more apt for survival. Cunning and patient, clever and powerful, it did not take much to understand how he’d gotten to be so old, and so prosperous. And so tired, at the same time. A long life of isolation sounded like the worst sort of punishment, and she grew worried for her child, for little Gideon. So when she began catching Mr Gold looking at her swollen belly, his hands twitching in that way she knew meant he wanted to reach out, to feel the babe, she grew hopeful. Gideon need not be alone after she was gone if the fae took an interest in him.

The more she thought about it the more it made sense, though she didn’t dare voice her new hope aloud. Instead she concentrated on feeding his budding interest in her child, letting him see ultrasounds and telling him about doctor’s appointments and such. And little by little, day by day, a sort of greed grew in Mr Gold’s eyes. Like a light slowly being turned on inside him, bringing newfound life to him. His dull scales, when they showed, now shone with a deeper gold colour and his presence grew in weight, to the point that Belle could feel him way before he stepped into her Library when he came to visit.

Those visits turn to trips to Granny’s and sometimes back to his shop. A strange sort of tension grew between them, which Belle hoped meant Mr Gold was getting attached, was seeing the possibility offered to him of a child that could be a companion, and was now looking to make a new deal, to tie himself to the child. She pushed further, gently prying into his personal space, where the very air seemed to softly vibrate with the echoes of his restrained power. He was skittish at first, endearingly so, but once the baby started moving he became intrigued by the notion of it, daring to ask once or twice to feel it.

It was unexpected but nice to have a partner through the pregnancy. Mr Gold wasn’t as she had expected, certainly less fearsome than shat had thought at first. Handsome, for sure, in a way that she hoped little Gideon would inherit. That and his sense of humour, dry and dark and just the right kind of strange.

She’d miss the closeness once little Gid was born and Mr Gold would have less incentive to interact directly with her. The closer she grew to her due date the more restless she became, both mentally and physically. Pregnancy, which had given her glowing skin- with the tiniest bit of an unnatural shine, she noticed, her child’s magic and Gold’s mingling on her skin- and great hair, had overstayed its welcome and turned acutely uncomfortable, specially when it came to sleep.

Her discomfort grew to the point that Mr Gold remarked on it, nose scrunched up.

“You reek of desperation, my dear. Whatever is the matter?”

She explained, though she imagined the pacing she was doing was helping her convey her problem more than her words ever could. He tilted his head, considering her.

“Want to strike a deal, Miss French?”

The words were purred at her in his customary brogue, thicker than what was usual. She’d interpreted the deepening of his accent around her as a sign that he had grown comfortable around her. He also dropped his human mask more around her, with his face sometimes entirely covered by his scales and his nails sharpened into claws. She looked forward increasingly to those small glimpses of his true nature.

“What do you have in mind, Mr Gold?”

“I’ll trade you relaxations for… that button on your pocket.”

It was a trifle, a small golden button she’d found at the bottom of her closet, matching none of her clothes. Knowing it for the transparent attempt at help that it was she eagerly handed it over, hoping for a quick magical solution to her problem. Instead, to her quiet disappointment, Mr Gold led her to the spinning wheel in the back room, helping her sit down on the stool beside it and taking a seat on a bench behind her.

“Spinning has always calmed me. There’s something in the rhythm of it, in the motion of the wheel and the feel of the wool on the skin.” His voice was low, like honey. “Almost hypnotic.”

He was quite adept, and Belle had to admit it was relaxing to watch him go through the motions. The wheel made a gentle, steady sound as it spun. She leaned back against the solid chest of the man behind her, thankful when he did not object. She felt him tense up slightly, his magic spiking around him, and she shivered at the sensation of it. Another type of tension grew inside her, a pulsing from below her navel that made her fidget in her seat.

“Rumple…”

She had used his real only once before, when she’d summoned him, but in the privacy of her own thoughts she’d been referring to him as such for a long time. He made a low, guttural sound behind her, hands dropping the wool and leaving the wheel to slide up her arms and down her torso, curving possessively around her swollen stomach. She felt his nose against the skin of her neck, his breath causing goosebumps where it touched her. She could tell he was holding himself back but barely, a feral, powerful creature straining against the bonds of his self-imposed restraint. His hands- green-gold and clawed, no longer human- drifted down to spread across her bare thighs, pushing the fabric of her summer dress up around her waist. He didn’t go any further, though, causing her to whimper and shift around. She reached out behind her to grab a fistful of his hair, noticing it curled, no longer straight.

“You… you promised…”

He hadn’t exactly, but it was a way to let him know she was more than okay with it, if he was. Belatedly, as he felt his fingers dip inside her underwear, she recalled the greedy looks she had seen him give her and wondered for the first time if she had misinterpreted them. But just as she felt as if she was about to come to some sort of monumental realisation she felt his fingers inside her, and his other hand cupping her breast. The scent of magic grew strong in the air as she rocked against him, feeling him hard and warm behind her, power made flesh and completely devoted to her needs. Time stretched and contracted as they moved together until with a sharp spark deep inside her cunt she felt the tension explode inside her, making her toes curl and her spine tingle. He followed her a second later with a cry he muffled against her hair, murmuring something in a language she could not understand. She brushed aside all worries about what would come next, with the birth of her child and therefore the end of their first deal, so nearby. If she could have nothing more, she would at least have this.

For all the magic that had been involved in Gideon’s conception and her subsequent pregnancy, the delivery was as normal as it could be. Her little boy was born after four and a half hours of delivery, looking perfect, specially once the swelling and the redness went down. He was resting peacefully in her arms when Mr Gold showed up, dapper in his three-piece suit and his long coat, a hint of gold about his eyes and the smell of magic around him. Belle cuddled Gideon closer, happy to detect, behind the smell of baby powder, the same scent about him.

“Do you wish to meet him, Rumple?”

It was a bit awkward to treat him in such a familiar manner after what it had happened, but with her son in her arms she felt particularly brave and unwilling to let things become stilted and stiff between them. He approached her cautiously, his face soft and open when he saw the child. It was then that Belle knew she’d done everything right and that he was there to claim the child as partly his. She looked down at the babe, noticing the unnatural shade of blue of his eyes and the very slight golden shimmer of his skin, and smiled in relief.

“He looks just like you, don’t you think?”

There was no mistaking the child’s origins, not with those ears and nose. The fae came close enough to be able to see the child’s face, but no closer, nervous energy crackling around him.

“He was supposed to look like what you wished. I’m sorry.”

“And is it too hard to imagine I might have wanted him to look like you?”

The light teasing was meant to put him at ease, but it fell flat. If not for the barely-concealed look of longing on the fae’s face as he stared at the child Belle might have thought she had failed altogether in getting him to care for little Gideon.

“I mean, after all, you’re the child’s father.”

His right hand tightened painfully around the golden handle of his cane, scales rippling across the skin of his neck before disappearing.

“That’s not entirely true, is it? The deal was clear, the child is yours alone. But, perhaps… Perhaps there could be another deal. Half of the boy’s life for my own. In exchange, I’d share half of my life with you.”

It wasn’t exactly the deal she had anticipated, so it took her a moment to make out exactly what he meant.

“But… you live forever. What exactly are you proposing?”

He took a step closer, and another, till he was within reach. Yet he made no motion to touch the child or herself, though he looked very much like he wanted to do both.

“I’ll share my lifespan with you, Miss French, if you share the child’s life with me. It’d mean moving to my house, so we could build a… a home, so we could both share Gideon’s life. It’d be forever, so you best be sure.”

There was a lot he wasn’t saying. About them, about what he expected and hoped for when he talked of home and of sharing a life. But the look on his face made it abundantly clear. She felt her eyes begin to water and feared for a second that he would misunderstand, so she smiled widely, taking a shuddering breath to steady herself.

“It’s a deal.”

#rumbelle christmas in july #Rumbelle Christmas in July 2019 #Iatethebiscuit #rumbelle fic #Thestraggletag fanfiction #rumbelle

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abovethemists · 7 years ago

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Because I hate life and also our beautiful idiots: "All of this was to protect myself." for the delicious Golden Lace verse

Follows this, this and this.

Gold had all but disappeared from Lacey’s life since that last day in the pawnshop. She hadn’t seen him in over a month. It was for the best. Perhaps in another universe, in another life, they could have been happy together, but in this one they would never move past Belle.

Lacey gave a snort. That wasn’t true. In every other universe, in every other life, Gold was happily married to her sister. This universe was the one cock up, the one place where they didn’t get their happy ending. Sometimes Lacey wonders if she even exists outside of this one narrow plane where Belle is gone. She’s never felt like a whole person. She is merely a shadow that trailed after her sister and now that the solid, corporeal form of Belle is gone, she is not even that. She’s something transient, a whisper on the wind, and she will be gone soon too.

It’s a surprise when she finally sees him again, but at the same time inevitable. It’s been so long since that day he told her he loved her that she’s almost convinced herself that she hallucinated the whole thing. But there he is one night, standing outside her apartment door as she trudges home from a late shift at the Rabbit Hole. It’s nearly three in the morning. She’s tired and her feet hurt and she reeks of cigarettes and stale beer. Her makeup has mostly worn off and there’s a stain on her tank top. Of course he would seek her out now, like this.

For Gold’s part, he looks impeccable as always, looming silently in the shadows of her apartment building. He’s dressed entirely in black, as usual, except for the bright red slashes of red on his striped tie. For a moment they look like blood, a splattering across him, some feral creature lying in wait for her. But she blinks, and it’s just Gold again, leaning on his cane, his face impassive as she approaches.

She doesn’t say anything, just fumbles with her keys and gets the apartment door open. She walks in, kicking off her heels and leaves the door open, wondering if Gold will take it as the invitation it is. She shouldn’t let him in, but she misses him so damn much. Without Belle, without Gold, she is truly alone. Her entire body aches with it.

She hears the scuff of his cane on the threshold and the quiet click of the lock as he closes the door behind him. Lacey just continues on to the kitchen, shrugging out of her jacket and throwing it across the kitchen table as she heads to the fridge.

“Beer?” she asks, rifling through the contents of the fridge and surfacing with two bottles of something cheap. It’s the first word she’s said to him in how long? Fitting.

Gold looks disdainfully at the bottle in her hand before taking it, twisting off the top, and setting it on her counter untouched. Lacey opens her beer as well, but takes a fortifying sip, downing half the bottle in one gulp.

“Why are you here?” she asks finally, setting her bottle down next to his. He looks old under the fluorescent lighting of her kitchen, like he’s somehow aged years since she last saw him. She supposes loss can do that to a person. She’s sure she looks just as haggard.

“I wanted to explain,” he says. “Explain where I’ve been and why.”

Lacey leans back against the kitchen counter, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve been busy,” he says cryptically. “There’s been a lot of upheaval in town lately.”

Lacey can’t say she’s noticed, but Gold has always had his fingers in every pie in town. He would know better than her.

“But that’s only part of the reason I’ve stayed away,” he continues. “I’ve avoided you on purpose, because I’m a coward.”

His voice breaks on the last word, the first show of emotion since he appeared in the darkness tonight. Lacey crosses her arms against her chest, doing everything in her power not to reach for him.

“All of this was to protect myself,” he says haltingly. “From the guilt and the shame. I was too cowardly to face you. Because I love Belle, and I love you and for a time that seemed insurmountable, but it doesn’t anymore, Lacey.”

What is he talking about? Of course it’s insurmountable. They’d never have met if not for Belle. They’d never have come together if she hadn’t died. There’s no reconciling what they are with the memory of the person they both loved most. They are the worst sort of traitors for ever succumbing to it to begin with.

“We can never be happy together,” Lacey says with a shake of her head, bile rising up the back of her throat at odds with the flutter of hope in her stomach. “We agreed on that much. This isn’t just about your feelings Gold. Don’t you think I feel guilty too? The only reason we started spending time together was because we’re the only two people in town who seem to remember Belle at all. Everyone else just moved on. We can’t move on too. We can’t just let Belle disappear.”

Her voice is rising in concert with her panic, with the screaming, clawing, raging creature that lives in her chest that is at once protective of Belle and jealous of her. The one that’s been there her whole life if she lets herself think about it, even before the tragedy of Belle’s death.

“We won’t,” he says with conviction, closing the space between them. His hands cup her cheeks, forcing her tear filled eyes to meet his, shining with hope like she’s never seen them.

Her back is pressed against her kitchen counter, her front a hair’s breadth away from the warm, solid figure of Gold. She can smell his spicy cologne, she can feel his breath against her face as his calloused thumbs caress her cheeks, and she wants him so much it is physically painful. His presence here tickles something at the back of her mind, like a memory of a dream that has long since faded.

He leans down, brushing his lips against hers. It’s barely a kiss, a hint of something more but restrained, hesitant. There is none of the desperation and fire that usually drive their kisses. It’s a question.

“Sweetheart,” he says, pulling back from her with aching tenderness. It’s the same endearment he used to use for Belle though and Lacey can’t possibly handle it. She is not a replacement. She is not Belle. She wishes she could be, for him and for herself. But there’s not enough of her to be Belle. Belle was whole and she is just a shadow.

“No,” she says, wrenching her face out of Gold’s light hold. “I’m not your sweetheart. Belle was. But I am not her!”

Gold’s face crumples at her words, agony etched across every line. He looks like he’s falling apart in front of her and she almost regrets her words. Almost.

Gold nods, backing away from her, out of her kitchen, out of her apartment, and out of her life.

send a sentence and a ship

#rumbelle fic #golden lace #raven's fic #iatethebiscuit #fic: phantom pain

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