#My Bonnie Wee Libarian

[joylee56]

With this Broom I Thee Wed

for fluffapalooza 2018, Happy Belated Rumbelleversary,

This takes place in the universe of myBonnie Wee Librarian story. You don’t need to have read that story though. Only know that here, Belle escaped from Regina after her capture in “The Outsider” and made it back to the Dark Castle to Rumple’s welcoming arms.

“It is true, young lady,”  The magistrate of Glome informed the chestnut haired woman seated in front of him condescendingly, “I am empowered to officiate at marriages.  However, decent folk opt for religious services.  I suggest you, or far better your father or fiance apply to the clerics or to the fairies.”

Smiling the lady told him,  “Both my fiance and I have cause not to trust either the clerics or the fairies, Magistrate.  Which is why we are inquiring about a civil ceremony.”

The Magistrate snorted.  “Better you should repent your ways and make peace with the clerics before you marry, girl.  I’m sure your father would tell you the same.”

“I’m sure he would, but since my father’s subservience to the clerics is in large part the reason I distrust them, I don’t think that will be happening anytime soon.”  She rose.  Fingers toying with a gold colored woolen thread tied around her left wrist.  “It distresses me that a civil servant of King Midas is refusing to perform the duties of his office.  I will feel obliged to mention this to Princess Abigail the next time I write her.”

The magistrate finally took in the rich brocade of her cloak and the fineness of the walking dress she wore under it.  He spoke more hesitantly now.  “And how comes a woman at odds with the clerics to communicate with Princess Abigail?”

“Before the ogres attacked the Marchlands the Princess would come to study with my mother, Lady Colette.”  The woman smiled sadly.  “Our library was renown.  Sadly what the ogres started the clerics finished and it is no more.  I would be ‘at odds’ with them for that alone even if they had not filled my father’s ears with malice toward my fiance.”

“You’re, you’re… “  the magistrate shoved back from his desk so fast his chair overturned.  “Lady Belle, the Dark One’s whore!  Begone! Guards!  Guard!”

Belle sighed and did not wait for the guards to make it through the door.  Breaking the thread tied around her wrist, a cloud of red smoke surrounded her as she vanished.

To appear in the great hall of the Dark Castle.  Rumplestiltskin was just finishing preparing her a cup of tea.  He held it out to her.  “No luck I take it?”

“No.”  She signed and took the tea.  “I got a lecture on how a proper young woman would apply, or rather have her father apply for her, to the clerics to be wed.”

Sometimes it was wise to heavily edit her reports to Rumple.  Telling him about the fellow calling her a whore might well result in King Midas having to have the Magistrate’s chambers redecorated to get the blood stains out of the carpets before he replaced him.  Besides she could deal with that on her own.  “I shall write to Abigail today and let her know the sort of sexist misanthrope she has serving her in Glome. She would not stand for it if she was aware of it.”

“True, Princess Abigail is quite a competent administrator.”  Rumple sipped his own tea.  “Rare thing among royals.

“Present company excepted.”  He smiled at her.

“I’m not a royal, Rumple.”  She reminded him.  “Merely the daughter of a merchant knight who married into a Barony.”

“Your mother’s bloodline is older than any of the royals in the kingdoms, my dear. By their own rules you outrank the lot of them”

Despite several lifetimes of dealing with Kings and Princes, Rumple’s peasant origins still showed in the way he found the distinctions of rank that royals and members of the aristocracy lived for ridiculous. “Power is what matters, Dearie.  Not whatever silly titles they string after their names.”  He had told her early on, when she had rebuked him for letting the Emperor of Agatean wait on the stoop in a snowstorm.  

But those were not the pressing issues at hand.  

Belle set down her teacup in front of Rumple and herself on his lap, putting her legs across the armrest of his chair.  Rumple hummed happily and put the arm not holding his cup around her waist to hold her tight against his chest.  Nuzzling her hair.

This had become a favorite position since her return to the Dark Castle.  It brought them close without the risk of an accidental kiss if their snuggling got out of hand.

Something Belle was becoming more and more desirous of.  From the way Rumple’s hands were more frequently coming to wander to places her governess had severely warned her against allowing, he apparently felt the same.

Today he merely set down his tea and started to undo her boot.  Leaning back with a sigh as he removed the first, she suggested.  “Perhaps we need to go farther afield to find an officiant.  Someplace where you haven’t had dealings?”

“I had thought of that.”  Rumple sounded contrite.  “I even went through my atlases.  Unfortunately even the places where I haven’t dealt have almost all been er… visited by at least one of my predecessors.  The repute of the Dark One is nearly universal.”

“Nearly?”  That sounded promising.

“Somehow we’ve overlooked the Pearl Islands.”  He told her.  “Mostly because, despite the name, the islands have nothing to recommend them except fat pigs and a porridge they eat that is described as tasting like library paste.

“Not to mention they’re polygamous.  We’d need to round up at couple more people to be wed there.”

“No.  That won’t do.”  Belle agreed.  “Do we have to have a wedding?  Could not something else work as well?”

Rumple sighed.  Her second boot joined the first and he began to rub her feet.  Rumple gave wonderful foot massages, but she was not going to let him distract her that easily.

“In theory, no.” He admitted.  “The ‘work around’ I’ve developed to keep True Love’s Kiss from breaking my curse basically channels off the power behind True Love and holds it in abeyance until such time as we want to let it loose.

“But there is a tremendous amount of power to channel.  So we need to ground it to a symbolic act that is both comparable with True Love and meaningful enough in its own right to have the strength to sustain it.”  He shrugged.  “A wedding is the obvious course.  I’d no realized that the ceremony itself would be the sticking point.”

Not to mention Belle suspected that Rumple’s peasant Frontlands background made him reluctant to bed her without offering her honorable marriage.  The Frontlands was a prudish place from what she had read.  

Rumple retreated to his workroom to see if he could ‘tweek’, as he put it, his work around.  From the frowns he wore as he emerged for meals and periodic sessions at his wheel it was not going well.

In three days he emerged from his tower, accompanied by a dark and foul smelling cloud of smoke, to ask her,  “Be a dear and run done to town and see if the midwife has any dried raspberry leaf.  I need at least four ounces.”

As she neared the town that had grown up on the lands that made up the Dark Castle’s estate, it occurred to her that they had been overlooking a rather obvious spot in their search.  

The midwife, as usual, was happy to exchange a large bag of dried herbs for Rumple’s gold.  “Will He be needing more?  I’ll harvest some and set them drying just in case.”

The townsfolk always showed Rumple a wary deference, but at the same time paid their, comparatively low and paid in the form of goods and services rather than coin, taxes to the castle without complaint.  They also gladly sold Belle any goods she was sent to collect.

“His gold spends as well as any other.”  The Head of the Town Council had told Belle on one of her early trips to town.  “And as long as you’re no stupid enough to cross Him, He leaves us mostly to ourselves.  True He can kill with a gesture, but so can any other lord.  At least here we’re free govern ourselves as we will.  Having to marvel when He shows off one of His tricks is a small price to pay for being safe from outlaws and not having to send our children off to war.”

Leaving the midwife with her purchase, Belle went in search of the town Notary.  Who immediately put down her pen and rose to bob a rough curtsey.  “Lady Belle, I was hoping to catch you.  Please let Him know that the new potter and his family are settling in nicely.  Already have their kiln built and firing.  They’ve done up an absolutely beautiful tiered serving tray to thank Him for letting them settle here.”

The Notary leaned in lowered her voice,  “King George was going to draft both of their girls into his army.  Can you imagine?  Why the younger ones only sixteen.”  

Belle nodded.  “We were drafting boys that young to fight the ogres by the end of the war in my father’s barony.  In the Marchlands they don’t take women as soldiers.”

“From what I hear, King George’s army doesn’t take the girls as soldiers either.”  The Notary said with disapproval.  “We’ve all told them that they’ve nothing to worry about on that front here, but I think they’ll be more assured after they meet you.  And you can take the serving tray back with you.”

“Certainly.” The townsfolk had assumed from the beginning that Belle’s principal duties had been warming Rumple’s bed.  Instead of treating her like a fallen woman though, they had shown her as much respect as if she were the lady of the castle rather than it’s ‘caretaker’.

To the point of defending her honor with their fists whenever outsiders referred to her as the Dark One’s whore.  “Well, we’re no stupid.”  The Notary had told her bluntly when Belle had the courage to raise the issue with the plain spoken woman.

“You’ve got His ear.  And there’s never been another woman either up at the castle or here in town that He’s shown an interest in as far back as anyone can remember.  So it stands to reason He’s right taken with you.  Getting on your bad side would be a quick way to end up squashed under His boot.”

“Beside,”  the Notary had continued,  “It reflects well on the town to have a fine lady as ‘caretaker’ up at the castle.  The Seneschal’s wife over in Entestadt is illiterate and bucktoothed to boot.”

Entestadt was the nearest large town on the other side of the river which marked the boundary of Queen Regina’s lands.  It was the townsfolk's arch rival, not just for trade but in the odd game played in this part of the world where a ball was kicked about a large field.  Rumple had sent Belle off to act as his representative for the last match with Entestadt.  Even after he explained the rules to her, she still did not understand it, but had dutifully applauded whenever the town team had managed to kick the ball between the two posts at Entestadt’s end of the field.  And toasted the players’ victory with the same sort of speech she used to give to the winners of jousting competitions in the Marchlands.

“But before I meet the potter and his family, I have a question.  How do people here in town get married?”  Belle asked.  “There’s no cleric or magistrate to officiate.”

“Depends.”  The Notary’s eyes dropped to Belle’s waist and hurriedly looked up again.  “Those that want a religious ceremony go down river to Beaver Creek.  There’s a cleric closer, but the one there only insists you go through two hours of ‘purification’, before being sufficiently cleansed to be allowed to enter the Sacred Grove. Course he charges twice as much if you live on the lands belonging to the Dark Castle.”

“And if you don’t need a religious ceremony?”

“Well, legally all you need to do is sign the Book of Records and pay the recording fee. For an extra silver I do up a nice certificate you can hang on the wall or send home to the parents to prove you really are married.” The Notary told her.  “Those that can afford it and want to have a party, will jump the broom in the town square after they sign the Book.  For a few silvers Big and Little Jock will get out their fiddles, round up a drummer who can keep time and play dance tunes. Generally the couple or their families will set out some sort of food and a cask of ale for those who turn out.”

“How long do you suppose it would take to pull something like that together?”  Belle asked.  “Assuming the groom arranged for the feast.”

“Full moon’s in five days.”  The Notary shrugged.  “That’s always a good night for a party.”

Five days later just before dusk Belle and Rumplestiltskin stood before the Notary.  He in a beautifully cut suit of wool in the darkest burgundy, heavily embroidered with his own gold thread.  She in a much less constricting, but still form fitting version of the gold gown she was wearing when she first met him.

They signed their names on a clean page in the record book with suitable flourishes. Rumplestiltskin handed over a bag of gold that would not only pay the Notary’s stipend for the entire year, but probably fund the attached school as well.

They exited the Notary’s office to find the broom laid out in front of the door and the entire town gathered around the square.  “Told you they would turn out if we offered them a free meal.”  Rumple muttered in her ear.

The ‘free meal’ was in fact a feast.  Trestle tables were pushed up against the buildings on one side of the square covered in platters of meats, cheeses, bread, fruit, and a mutton, oatmeal and onion pudding that Rumple swore was required for wedding feasts in the Frontlands. There was so much food that the pastries and sweets that were served at Marchlands weddings had to have an entire separate table as did the casks of wine and ale.  

“I think they just want to wish us well.”  Belle whispered back.  “Although I’ll grant you the curiosity factor is probably high.  The wedding of their liege lord is a once in a lifetime affair after all.”

She reached out to take his hand.  “Best to not disappoint them.”

“Indeed not.” Louder, so that the crowd could hear he intoned.  “If you will have me, Belle, I take you to be my wife and vow to be your faithful and loving husband.”

The crowd around them fell away in Belle’s eyes and she saw only her beloved Rumple. “I will most certainly have you, Rumplestiltskin, forever as my husband and I vow to be your faithful and loving wife.”

His hand tighten on hers.  “Shall we then?”  He gestured at the broom.  The townsfolk had wrapped it in the same flowers that bedecked the tables.  Turning it from a household implement into a thing of beauty.

She gathered up her skirts so they would not interfere with the jump.  “We shall.”

They jumped as one. Landing easily on the other side of the broom.  The townsfolk let up a cheer.  Belle giggled as Rumple hugged her.  “Just one last thing.”  

Producing his flask he pour a generous measure into two crystal goblets and offered her one.  “The binding potion.  I used some Marchlands cognac for the base.”

Marchlands cognac did not as a rule bubble and definitely was not lavender, but Belle took a glass and then intertwined their arms.  As they drank she felt a rush of warmth.  The bubbles seemed to flow from her lips through her whole body.  They passed off just as quickly leaving her feeling slightly giddy.  Although that could be the thrill of marrying Rumple.

Or possibly the cognac.

Rumple was smiling down at her with an equally whimsical expression.  From someone in the nearby crowd she heard a comment.  “… heard him say something about the Marchlands.  Must be a custom of Lady Belle’s people.”

Another voice responded.  “’Tis a lovely custom.  I think our Isla should do it when she marries her Ben this fall.”

From the other side of the square a young male voice called out,  “Kiss her already!”

This appeared to be a popular sentiment as other voices took up a chant of “Kiss, her! Kiss, her!”

The Head of the Town Council was standing close enough so that Belle could see the poor man looking like he expected Rumple to turn the lot of them into snails.  It made her giggle

Definitely the cognac.

“Do you think it’s safe to kiss?”  She asked Rumple.

“Only one way to find out.”  He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

Grinning he told her.  “Appears to be.  Though I think more experimentation is called for to be sure.”

“Oh, yes!” Standing on tiptoe she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him properly.

Leaving poor Rumple with no choice but to encircle her waist with his arms to keep from being knocked over.  He did not appear to mind.

They did not break off until the applause sounded.  When they looked up, they found the townsfolk were filling various drinking containers with the wine and ale.  The Notary had the presence of mind to refill their goblets from a pitcher of wine she was taking round.

She raised her glass and toasted,  “A thousand welcomes to you with your marriage.  May you be blessed with long life and peace and may you grow old with goodness, and with riches.”

“Thank you.” Belle told her.  

The Notary glanced over at the Head of the Town Council and frowned.  Clearly the man was supposed to step in at this point.  But he was still a bit pale from the ‘kiss her’ chanting.  A couple of the Council members were chivying him forward.  

Taking up the slack the blacksmith raised his glass.  “M’ father gave me the best advise I ever got on m’ weddin’ day.  He said, son, let her know right from the beginnin’ who’s boss.  Look her right in the eye and say, ‘you’re the boss’.”  

He bowed at the laughter that got and then said,  “May your love be like the misty rain, gentle coming in but flooding the river.”

By now the Head of the Town Council appeared calmer.  He cleared his throat and began, “Sir and Lady Belle, honored we are to witness your wedding.  We hope you will permit us to wish you all the best in your married life.”

From the pause at the end of his remarks the speech was clearly supposed to be longer. One of the Council members, jumped in with,  “A toast to the bride and groom.  May they live happily ever after.”

That was a popular toast.  After that the entire crowd looked directly at them.  Belle nudged Rumple.  Who blinked and then realized he was suppose to respond.  “Yes, right.  Thank you good people for your well wishes. On behalf of myself and Lady Belle, my bride...”  This idea appeared to make him loose his train of thought as he looked down at her with a grin.

“We thank you for your kind wishes, and for joining with us to celebrate our happy day.”  Belle finished up for him.  “Please partake of the food and drink.  And didn’t someone say there would be dancing?”

“There will indeed.”  The Notary took up hint.  “Jocks, are you ready?”

“Let’s get this party going.”  A small man with a fiddle called out.  “First a waltz for the bride and groom.”

It turned out the Rumple was a very good dancer.  Leading her easily around the floor and even putting her through a few turns and lifts when he realized she could follow him.  He stole another kiss when the dance ended.  

Several other couple came out onto the floor for the next dance.  A lively jig that Belle had never danced before, but the steps were easy and her skirts hid all her mistakes.  At the end of it she was rather breathless.  “I need a break.  Shall we eat?”

“We could.” Rumple agreed.  “But it occurs to me that we have food and drink back at the castle.  And far more privacy.”

“I like the way you think, husband.”  

“In that case, wife.”  A quick gesture had red smoke surrounded them and they disappeared.  Leaving the townsfolk glancing at each other knowingly.

“Well the foods still here.”  The Notary commented.  “Might as well enjoy ourselves.  Clearly They’re going to.”