#maydaymenagerie

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Fins and Scales

A @maydaymenagerie fic for @avatoh! I hope you enjoy. 

Summary: Rumpelstiltskin is summoned by the merfolk to find their missing princess Belle. When he does find her, however, she shows no signs of wanting to return to the seas, and instead strikes a new deal with him, one that brings Rumpelstiltskin far more than he bargained for.

Rated: E

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Fins and Scales

It was shaping up to be a perfectly ordinary day until Rumpelstiltskin found the conch shell on the Dark Castle’s steps, and he rolled his eyes. The merfolk really needed to find a more efficient method of contacting him than just throwing shells out of the water and hoping that they stuck. True, they did always hit their mark, but if he hadn’t happened to have left the castle via the front door that day, then it could have been rather a long time before the message was discovered.

Still, that was the method that they had used since they’d started sending him messages, and whilst some people were willing to move with the times and change their ways to suit, the merfolk were not among their number, preferring the status quo at the bottom of the sea. Perhaps they saw the world above so infrequently that they just didn’t know how much it was changing.

Maybe he was being uncharitable, but since Rumpelstiltskin knew that the merfolk did have the ability to walk on land if they so chose, he thought that if their message did have any degree of urgency in it then it would have been delivered in person.

He grabbed the shell and brought it back inside the castle, setting it on the table in the main hall and looking at it for a while. There were just as many kingdoms under the sea as there were above it, and just like on dry land, the rocks and foliage changed with the environment. Rumpelstiltskin recognised this particular style of shell; it had come from the depths of Maurice’s part of the ocean, and that in itself piqued Rumpelstiltskin’s curiosity. Lord Maurice was not one for asking for help from the world above, preferring to keep merfolk and land-dwellers firmly separate, and for him to ask for assistance from the Dark One himself was even more unusual.

Finally, curiosity getting the better of him, Rumpelstiltskin picked up the conch and put it to his ear, listening to the lapping waves of the ocean inside. After a moment, the message began, and Rumpelstiltskin’s brow furrowed. It sounded like complete gibberish, like someone talking through water, the sounds all distorted. Messages from the merfolk like this were usually intelligible even if they didn’t echo quite right in his ears. Presently a voice spoke clearly.

“Ahem, sir, it’s upside down.”

Another distorted word, and then Maurice’s voice spoke.

“Oh, right. I see. Ahem.” He cleared his throat with a great degree of self-importance and began his message proper. “We seek the assistance of the Dark One in a matter of delicate state importance. It appears that the heir to our throne has been kidnapped by scale merchants and we require assistance to find her and return her to the ocean as soon as possible. This is a matter of extreme diplomatic delicacy.”

Rumpelstiltskin put the shell down and raised an eyebrow. It was not unheard of for scale merchants to kidnap unsuspecting merfolk in order to strip the scales off their tails and sell them for use in potions. Merfolk fin scales were a precious commodity and Rumpelstiltskin used them himself in some of his most potent brews, but it was generally easier to make a deal with a merperson and provide something they required in exchange for scales willingly given. They were always best when used fresh, like anything else.

There had not been a case of a scale merchant kidnapping for a very long time, and it seemed strange that they should not only resurface now, but resurface and capture the heir to Maurice’s kingdom out of all the merfolk that they could take. Surely the crown princess would be kept safe within their stronghold. Most of the merfolk that the scale merchants took were found at the peripheries of their societies, not right in the centre. How could such a high profile kidnapping have taken place?

There was definitely more to this case than met the eye, and Rumpelstiltskin sighed. Whilst common sense was telling him that he probably ought to leave well alone and let the notoriously secretive and isolated kingdom take care of its own problems, the fact that something was not as it seemed was intriguing him more than any of the deals he’d taken in recent weeks. A cerebral challenge certainly wouldn’t go amiss.

Maurice hadn’t specified what he would give in return for the location of the missing princess, so Rumpelstiltskin would have to make inquiries about remuneration before he went any further. Maurice’s kingdom was sizeable but by no means the richest of the underwater lands, so perhaps some interesting bargaining could take place.

It was the diplomatic nature of the request that worried him slightly. Generally speaking, land dwellers did not get involved in merfolk politics and vice versa. Then again, he was the Dark One, and political niceties had never yet stopped him from getting right in the middle of some juicy scandals if he thought that there could be a deal in it for him.

He put the shell back to his ear in case he had missed any part of the message, but there was nothing new to be heard, apart from the strained urgency in Maurice’s voice. Yes, this was a deal that it would be better to make sooner rather than later. The merman certainly seemed to be desperate enough.

Rumpelstiltskin took up the shell and made his way up to his workroom and the stores of herbs he kept there. Taking down a large jar of opaque green glass and shaking it, he made a face. He was almost out of kelp, and depending on the nature of this deal and what might be required from him in the search for the princess, he would probably run out before long. Maybe that could be his price. Kelp was always a pain to grow and tended to wilt under the care of anyone who was not by nature aquatic.

Still, he was going to have to use it if he was going to get to the bottom of the case. He gathered up the jar and the conch, stowing them in a leather pouch, and disappeared from the Dark Castle in a cloud of inky smoke, taking himself to the coastline in a matter of moments and procuring one of the small sailing boats that was moored up there. He always preferred to get as close as possible to the underwater kingdoms before diving in. Swimming had never been a favourite pastime of his.

Once he reached the approximate location of Maurice’s stronghold, he eased the stopper out of the jar of kelp and shook out the last few leaves into his palm, tossing them into his mouth and making a face at the sour, salty taste. Still, however bad it tasted, it was a better alternative than drowning or attempting some other kind of magic that would allow him to breathe underwater. Kelp had been cultivated centuries ago by the merfolk in order to allow them to walk on land for brief periods, assisting with trade and dealing with the land dwellers. When it was discovered that it worked both ways, it became a valuable commodity, one that Rumpelstiltskin always seemed to be in short supply of. It really was rather strange how many people came to him for help in communing with the merfolk, and he had no idea why. The seaweed wasn’t greener on the other side, and the kelp didn’t produce any lasting effects.

He supposed that it was to do with the mystery and legends of the merfolk and an insatiable desire to see them close up, first hand, in all their scaled glory. One of the fishermen’s favourite pastimes in the taverns on the sea fronts was to make guesses as to which of the people walking around by the water’s edge might actually be a merperson, as once they took kelp and their legs formed, they were indistinguishable from humans, despite the pervasive legends that they all had green hair and mottled skin. They’d probably tried to push that myth themselves as much as possible to avoid anyone looking too closely at them when they were disguised on land.

He felt the scratching of the dry leaves beginning to take effect in the back of his throat, and he took a deep breath on instinct before diving out of the boat and into the water, pushing through the murky depths towards the stronghold that he knew to be at the bottom.

The water seemed darker than usual, but Rumpelstiltskin was too focussed on swimming to really pay it much mind. Usually, once one had gone deep enough not to be seen from the surface, then the algae and other plant life found in the depths would begin to glow and bring light to the merfolk’s otherwise dim world. Indeed, on the other occasions that Rumpelstiltskin had visited the various underwater kingdoms, he’d found his path lit by myriad weird and wonderful creatures, and there was no danger of getting lost in the labyrinthine sea currents.

This time, however, there was nothing, just the faintest glow of the stronghold that never seemed to get any closer no matter how far he swam. Maurice had the reputation of being secretive, certainly, but this complete darkness seemed suspicious even for him. He certainly wasn’t expecting any visitors, except perhaps Rumpelstiltskin himself.

The waters were choppy, as well, and hard to swim through. Rumpelstiltskin could feel himself tiring and he only hoped that he would be able to make it to the coral citadel and back to the surface before the kelp’s effects wore off. There were several old wives’ tales about merfolk getting carried away enjoying themselves on land and suddenly and unceremoniously having their tails reform when their kelp wore off without them realising how long they had spent out of the water. Rumpelstiltskin had never seen it happen himself, but the idea definitely didn’t surprise him. Unlike a merperson on land, however, who would just be slightly inconvenienced by being unable to move about and would have to rely on some kindly bystander to help them back to the water, a human’s kelp wearing off whilst they were in the underwater world would have a far deadlier effect.

Finally the light seemed to grow, after he’d been swimming steadily downwards for what seemed like an age and more, and Rumpelstiltskin found himself entering Maurice’s stronghold. Two guards armed with tridents came out to meet him, looking suspicious, but once they recognised his face, they let him pass without a word, guiding him through the haven towards the centre, where the merfolk nobility were gathered with Maurice.

“My Lord,” one of the guards said. Rumpelstiltskin gave a low bow as the chief merman turned to him, although the effect was somewhat marred by the fact he kept floating a couple of inches off the sea bed. He really did hate doing deals underwater.

“I see you received my message, Rumpelstiltskin.” Maurice came over to him with a great deal more grace than Rumpelstiltskin was able to display, and he waved away the rest of the people who were gathered in the place. “I was hoping that you would come. This really is a very strained situation that we’ve found ourselves in. If Belle isn’t found, then it could spell disaster.”

“As anxious as I am at the fate of your crown princess who has been kidnapped by malefactors as yet unknown, I do fail to see how this is such a political disaster. I mean, you do lose face with your neighbours, having your daughter kidnapped from the stronghold right under your nose. It doesn’t say a lot for your security.”

Maurice looked rather uncomfortable, and Rumpelstiltskin was more convinced than ever of there being something else at work.

“Well, perhaps the part about her being kidnapped wasn’t entirely truthful,” he said sheepishly.

“So she left of her own free will?”

“Yes.”

“You have proof of this?”

“She left a note to tell us that she hadn’t been kidnapped. The problem is that we don’t know where she headed after she left the stronghold.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea why she would leave in a hurry giving you no indication of where she’s gone?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, not making any effort to hide the sarcasm in his voice. Merfolk who had been cooped up in strongholds for their entire lives without the chance to stretch their horizons were naturally going to get itchy fins and want to explore the world above the water. It was a common enough story.

“Well, this is where the political aspect comes in,” Maurice began awkwardly. “I did mention that it was an extremely delicate matter in my message,” he added. “I trust that I can have your discretion in these dealings?”

“When it comes to dealing with the Dark One, dearie, trust is something you really shouldn’t give away,” Rumpelstiltskin said slyly. “Besides, we haven’t made a deal yet. You’ve told me what you want from me - in the vaguest of terms - but I’ve yet to receive anything in return for my not insubstantial services here.”

“What would the price be for finding my daughter?” Maurice asked. Yes, he was definitely desperate.

Rumpelstiltskin held up the green glass jar. “I’m out of kelp. I used up my last grains to get down here to see you, so I hope you’ll appreciate my need for more if I’m to assist you any further.”

“Of course, of course.”

Maurice motioned to one of the guards who had remained at the entrance to the stronghold and issued instructions for a large batch of prepared kelp to be brought. Rumpelstiltskin inspected the quality and gave a satisfactory nod. That would keep him going for a while now.

“So will you find my daughter?” Maurice pleaded.

“Yes, yes, I’ll locate your princess for you. But first, I’d really like to know what’s at stake if I should fail in my quest. You see, if the princess left of her own accord, then there’s no guarantee that she would want to come back, you see.”

Maurice sighed. “She’s probably run away to avoid her impending marriage.”

“I see. One of those situations.” Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “When is the ceremony due to take place?”

“One week from now. Her betrothed is the heir to my neighbouring kingdom; they’re not yet aware that Belle is missing. The story of the scale merchants has been spread in case word of her disappearance spreads beyond our borders.”

“I see.” Rumpelstiltskin paused. “There’s more though, isn’t there. A jilted fiancée is certainly a diplomatic nightmare, but you’re genuinely afraid of the consequences should your dear Belle not be found. Yes.” Rumpelstiltskin looked around at his surroundings, wading in a very ungainly manner towards the table in the centre of the stronghold. There was no getting around it, although Maurice quickly swam around to try and intercept him. It was definitely a war table. Maurice and his mermen were preparing for some kind of conflict.

“I noticed that your kingdom was very dark on my way down,” he said casually. “Everyone in doors with the lights off, staying safe from any wayward attackers that might come as a pre-emptive strike. The waters are disturbed indicating recent violent activity on your boundaries. Unless I’m very much mistaken, you’re preparing for a war, Sir Maurice.”

Maurice sighed, sinking into his chair with an air of defeat.

“The other kingdoms have been circling for a while now,” he said. “The marriage arrangement between Belle and Gaston is a peace treaty. If she fails to honour it, then I dread to think what will happen to these waters.”

“I see.”

Things were becoming clearer in Rumpelstiltskin’s mind. An arranged marriage between two parties, neither of whom were likely to have had any say in the matter and one of whom had had the good sense to get out whilst they could. A marriage that, should it not go ahead, would quite likely doom Maurice’s small kingdom.

Why did people always think that marrying people off was the resolution to conflict?

“Tell me, Sir Maurice,” he began. “If you truly think that a union of your two kingdoms is the only way to prevent a war, why do you not marry this Gaston yourself, rather than forcing matrimony on your daughter?”

Maurice’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a while, completely unable to think up a suitable response to Rumpelstiltskin’s taunt. As amusing as it was to watch him flounder, Rumpelstiltskin knew that his time was running out and he had no desire to use up any more of the precious kelp that he’d just received as payment in order to keep needling the lord.

“Is your daughter aware of the possible consequences for your kingdom should she fail to honour her marriage contract? From what I’ve heard of her already, she seems to have a sensible head on her shoulders so I am assuming not.”

Maurice shook his head. “No, Belle is not aware of the peace treaty tied into the betrothal contract.”

“I think that might have been a slight oversight on your part if you wanted to stop her running away,” Rumpelstiltskin pointed out. “Nevertheless, I will find your daughter. You have my word of that.”

“Thank you.”

Rumpelstiltskin grabbed his kelp jar and swam away from the coral. He really didn’t like dealing with the merpeople on their own territory; it was very hard to be graceful and intimidating when you had to wade through the place on legs that were not designed to work their best underwater, and he had no desire for the merfolk not to take him seriously because he looked ridiculous whenever he visited them.

He returned to the boat just as the effects of the kelp were beginning to wear off, and he looked down at his sodden clothing with distaste, drying himself off with a wave of his hand. It was hardly a trivial use of magic, he reasoned, since he didn’t want to catch his death of cold before he could get back to the Dark Castle. For a long time, he lay in the bottom of the boat, getting his breath back from the tiring swim up from Maurice’s lands.

Belle had left the stronghold to get away from her arranged marriage. If she had any sense, which, considering she’d decided to take matters into her own hands and escape the life that was being dictated to her and she’d left a note, she seemed to have, then she would have headed straight for the one place that Maurice would be very unlikely to follow her: land.  Even inside the stronghold with no contact with the other waters, it would be hard to miss the signs of a society on edge and she wouldn’t have sought refuge in territory belonging to other underwater royalty.

Land was definitely her best bet. Rumpelstiltskin realised that he should have asked Maurice if she’d taken any kelp with her, and he was annoyed with himself that he hadn’t. Still, working on the principle that she had taken to land, it would be fairly easy to track her down. She couldn’t stay in a human form forever, so as soon as she made land, she would be looking for a body of water to get back to, a river or lake where she could lie low and stretch her fins.

The only problem, of course, was that there were quite a lot of rivers and lakes in the Enchanted Forest and he didn’t want to have to go and visit all of them.

Rumpelstiltskin directed the boat back towards the shoreline, still pondering how best to find where the runaway might have gone. If she didn’t want to be found, then she’d be staying inland as much as possible, so she’d probably be moving between lakes, rather than rivers that would eventually open out into the seas and allow merfolk to, if they had enough determination, swim upstream to get her. It was rare for them to leave the sea, preferring salt water to fresh, but considering the stakes, Maurice might make an exception if it meant getting his daughter back and forcing her into a peace treaty. Idly, Rumpelstiltskin wondered what Gaston thought of the arrangement, but he soon dismissed the notion. Gaston was not the one who had run away, therefore he was probably completely content to be suddenly thrust into matrimony with the conspicuously absent princess.

He reached the shore again and decided that it would be best to return to the Dark Castle before he began the next stage of his task. He was going to need a very large map.

X

She couldn’t have that much of a head start on him, although merfolk could move remarkably fast on land considering it wasn’t their primary habitat. Rumpelstiltskin thought that it must have something to do with the water pressure being so much heavier at the depths they usually lived at; by the time they got out into the open air they must feel so light they were in danger of floating away.

He sat back in his chair, looking at the large map of the Enchanted Forest that was spread out over the great hall table in front of him, large crosses marked through the lakes that he had already checked. He had begun near the coast and fanned out, coming further inland towards the mountains and the Dark Castle itself.

It would have been perfectly easy to find her with magic. All he would need would be an item of her possession and a simple lost and found potion that would direct him towards her. It could have been over in a matter of moments, and he might yet resort to that. For the moment though, he had no desire to return to the sea, and he thought that it might do Maurice good to sweat for a day or so. It served him right for using his daughter as a peace treaty without her knowledge.

He leaned forward and surveyed the map again, tracing his fingers over the lines of the rivers and the outlines of the lakes. There were areas at the edges of the map that had not been charted properly and it was possible that Belle had gone in that direction, but Rumpelstiltskin didn’t think it likely. She would want to stick to known areas for fear of running into something that she couldn’t handle, or of running out of water. He’d never known what happened to merfolk if they regained their fins whilst still on land without a nearby body of water to jump into, but he assumed that it wouldn’t be pleasant for them.

There had been no reports of a mermaid sighting near the sea, so she was obviously concealing herself well.

A sudden thought struck Rumpelstiltskin and he pin-pointed the exact area on the map where he believed he would find his runaway. A lake far away from communities that might recognise her as a mermaid and make enquiries; a place with the same cold and heavy water that could be found deep in the ocean where she lived, a home away from home where she could lie low for a while. It was quite a way from the sea, but if she’d managed to hop on a carriage travelling along any of the main trade routes, she could have made it in good time.

And if she had come out of the ocean with something in mind other than simply running away from her arranged marriage, then this would be the perfect place for her to come.

Rumpelstiltskin jumped out of his chair and grabbed his coat, heading out of the Dark Castle and through its grounds, down towards the lake at the very edge of the property. It was so wonderfully ironic that after being called in as a last resort by Maurice, Rumpelstiltskin would find his daughter practically on his doorstep.

Well, provided that his hunch was correct. As he neared the lake, there were no obvious signs of it being inhabited by a mermaid. Still, they were by nature underwater creatures. If she was comfortable in the depths then there was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to stay there for a very long time. It wasn’t as if she had to come up for air, after all.

Rumpelstiltskin sat down on the bank, the jar of kelp beside him. He really didn’t want to go for a swim to investigate his own lake. Maybe there was another way he could find out if Belle was there. There wasn’t all that much for merfolk to eat in the lake; she’d get rather bored of the same vegetation.

A small part of him kept needling, telling him that he had absolutely no proof that Belle had ended up in this particular lake of all the lakes that she could have ended up in. Technically he had no proof that she had even made land. It was just a hunch, one that so many years of deals and dealing with human nature - and indeed merfolk nature - had taught him not to ignore. If there was one thing that Rumpelstiltskin knew, it was people. If she came ashore, then Belle would be alone and she would, at some point, be desperate. Even the merfolk knew who to go to when they were desperate, as Maurice had just proved himself.

Rumpelstiltskin grabbed a pebble and skimmed it over the surface of the lake, watching it sink in the centre. If there was anything in the lake then perhaps he could annoy it into showing itself. Admittedly, throwing rocks into the depths might not be the most sensible of ideas considering that he had never been sure himself what was lurking in there, but he figured that a fireball to the face would deter even the most irate of water dwellers enough to buy him enough time to get away.

There was no sign of anything stirring in the depths, so he skimmed another pebble, watching it sink below the surface in the centre of the lake. Still no response, not even an angry fish. Rumpelstiltskin was privately beginning to lose a little faith in his theory that Belle had ended up in his own lake, although if asked he would never have admitted it, and he picked up a final pebble. Third time lucky. If there was no sign of any activity after this one, then he would give it up as a bad idea and return to the castle for stage two of the plan.

Before he could throw it, however, he noticed something in the middle of the lake. The top of a head and a pair of eyes were watching him from above the waterline. As soon as he looked over, however, they vanished below the surface again, leaving no ripples, no indication at all that the water had been disturbed. That was a disadvantage to dealing with merfolk. If they were in the water and he wasn’t, then they could sneak up on him unannounced with ease. At least there was no chance of him being snuck up on from behind, and with the pebble still in his hand, he focussed his gaze on the lake, trying to work out where the mermaid - provided that it was the mermaid he was expecting and not some other more sinister creature from the deep that he had managed to disturb with stone skimming - would pop up next.

He would admit to being rather alarmed when she surfaced silently right beside him, again only lifting her head out of the water enough to show her eyes, and he almost dropped the pebble on her head in surprise. Having let out an ungainly squawk of alarm, he shook himself, tossed the pebble over his shoulder and tried to pretend that the entire thing had never happened.

“Can I help you?” he asked politely.

The mermaid rose in the water a little, up to her scaly shoulders. If this was indeed the runaway princess, then Rumpelstiltskin could quite see why her father would want to get her back. She was very pretty, with long dark hair and blue eyes that matched the colour of the scattering of scales he could see over her skin. Yes, she would certainly make quite the catch for the person she had been betrothed to. Ironic really. Usually wars were started over beauty, not ended by it.

“I don’t know,” the mermaid said. It was definitely Belle, she shared the same accent as the others in Maurice’s kingdom. “I’ve come in search of the Dark One.”

Rumpelstiltskin jumped up to his feet and bowed low. “You have indeed found him. And who, may I ask, are you?”

Belle gave a little smile. “Names have power.”

“They certainly do.” He liked her already, not that he hadn’t felt a definite admiration for her ever since he had learned about her flit from the stronghold. She would certainly be interesting to match wits with.

“I get the feeling that you know my name already, though,” she said. “Since you knew I was here in the lake. Unless, of course, your dropping pebbles on my head was entirely random. Since you brought kelp with you, though, I’m not convinced.”

“You’re a shrewd one,” Rumpelstiltskin remarked. “It’s rare for me to find one of your kind who comes ashore to speak to me. You usually prefer to stay within your seas.”

“I think a lot of us are afraid of exploring the world of the land-dwellers,” Belle said, a cheeky grin on her face.

“But not you, Crown Princess Belle of the Marchlands Stronghold?”

“Not me, Rumpelstiltskin. I told you that you knew my name already.”

“And it appears that you know mine, as well.”

“Oh, I think more people know your name than you think.”

Rumpelstiltskin sat down on the bank again.

“So, what is it that you seek?” he asked. “We may as well get down to business, since we both know who we are. What is the deal you want to make?”

A permanent life on land, perhaps, to get her out of her betrothal. Can’t get married to a merman and live in the sea if you’re a human. It wouldn’t be the first time that merfolk had wanted to make such a deal, and he wondered if she fully accepted the consequences of a permanent change of species.

Belle shook her head. “I don’t want to make a deal.”

“No-one comes to see me without a deal in mind, dearie.”

“I don’t want a deal,” she pressed. “I want advice on how to get out of a deal, actually.”

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. “Made a deal you didn’t understand, Princess?”

She glared at him, blue eyes narrowing, and there was steel in her voice when she spoke.

“I wasn’t the one who made the deal,” she said. “I’m just the one who has to live with it now that it’s been made.”

“I assume that you’re talking about your engagement to the no doubt dashing Gaston, prince of your father’s neighbouring kingdom.”

Belle scoffed. “‘Dashing’ is hardly the word that I would use. Boring, oafish, boastful and arrogant, yes. Dashing, definitely not.”

“I see. You’re opposed to the match.”

“I have no desire to get married to someone not of my choosing. I have even less desire to get married to Gaston, of all people. I’ve made my opinion of him perfectly clear to my father many times, and look where that got me.”

“Yes. Swimming in the Dark One’s lake trying desperately to get away from matrimony whilst your father spins unconvincing stories of your kidnap by scale merchants.”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Is that really the rumour he’s spreading?”

“Oh yes.” Rumpelstiltskin leaned in a little closer. “I think you may, by now, have worked out how I know your name and your circumstances.”

“My father asked you to come and get me.”

“In a manner, yes.”

“I’m not going back.”

“I never said you had to.”

“My father made a deal with you.”

“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin said levelly. “Your father made the deal. Not you. I am not in the habit of forcing young ladies to go to places against their will when they’ve made no deals to that effect.”

Belle’s eyes were still narrowed, sizing him up, testing his veracity and trying to work out if there were any loopholes in his words that would have him bundling her up into a sack and sending her back to the ocean at a moment’s notice. Seeming to have judged him to be benign, she pulled herself up onto the bank beside him, leaving her tail dangling in the water. There was a silver shimmer to the blue scales now that she was out of the water and he could see her better, and Rumpelstiltskin noticed that she had a delicate reed pouch tied around her waist. No doubt it held the kelp that she’d used to gain legs and get this far on land.

“Isn’t your deal with my father to retrieve the runaway daughter and return her, contrite, to face the rest of her miserable life under the sea?”

“No,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “That might be what your father wants, but if that’s what he expects, then he should have been more careful about how he worded his request.”

Belle looked at him, intrigued. “So what is the deal that you made with him?”

“I said that I would find you,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“I still fail to see how that differs from my interpretation.”

“Well, from my point of view, my part of the deal is complete.” Rumpelstiltskin picked up the pebble that he had tossed aside and skimmed it over the surface of the lake. “I have found you. You’re right here. You can’t deny that you’ve been found.”

“No, I suppose I can’t.”

“If your father wanted me to find you and bring you back to the sea, then he really should have been more specific about that,” Rumpelstiltskin mused. “People so often forget the importance of wording.”

“So you’re not going to take me back?”

“No. I have found you. My task is complete. You’re free to do whatever you wish to do now. Whether you choose to go back of your own accord is another matter.”

“Considering that I came to you looking for advice on getting out of the arrangement, I’m hardly going to return to honour it of my own free will.”

“What about if I told you that the safety of your father’s kingdom is in danger if you don’t return to honour the marriage contract?”

“What?”

It was clear from her reaction that she had not known about this before. She was horror-stricken, looking back over her shoulder towards the open sea, many miles away now.

“I take it from this that you were not aware that your father has disguised a peace treaty with his neighbours as a marriage contract for you?”

“WHAT?”

Rumpelstiltskin had seen a lot in his many years in the Enchanted Forest and on excursions to other realms, but he didn’t think that he had ever seen anyone quite as incandescently furious as Belle was at that moment.

“I can’t believe… How could he… That’s blackmail!” She smacked Rumpelstiltskin on the arm with webbed hand and surprising strength. Rumpelstiltskin grabbed his arm, rubbing the sore spot, and he inched away from her in case she hit him again.

“Whatever happened to the old adage of ‘don’t shoot the messenger’,” he muttered.

“So you might not be tasked with actually returning me to my father but you’re going to make sure I go anyway!” Belle yelled.

“No-one is making you go anywhere,” Rumpelstiltskin pointed out.

“I can’t leave my people to be slaughtered because my father was stupid enough to write my hand in marriage into a peace treaty!”

“It is, as you say, your father’s stupidity, not yours.”

Belle just gave him an incredulous look. “You really don’t get it, do you? There are hundreds of merfolk in that kingdom and they’re going to suffer because of this. If the only way for me to prevent a war is to go back and get married, then that’s what I’m going to have to do, isn’t it? I can’t just leave them to go to war because I think that what I want is more important than their wellbeing.”

“You’re very willing to sacrifice your happiness to ensure that your father suffers no consequences for his actions,” Rumpelstiltskin observed.

“Are you even listening to me?” Belle exploded, and considering she was sitting down on the edge of the lake, her body language was still ferocious. Merfolk could move through water silently and without making any ripples; they were that in tune with their surroundings. Belle’s tail, however, was not just making ripples but huge great foaming waves that were disrupting the surface of the not insubstantial lake and splashing Rumpelstiltskin head to toe. “This isn’t about my father! I couldn’t care less whether he suffers for his actions or not! How many times do I have to tell you that there are innocent people down there! My father will stay holed up in the stronghold, he’s safe!”

She was so vehement and passionate in her defence of her people; it didn’t matter that a minute ago she had been vowing never to go back and fulfil the contract, now that she knew the dangers involved, she had put aside her own desires, determined to help her people no matter what. She’d make a good ruler; Rumpelstiltskin thought, before realising that if she was married off into Gaston’s family as a peace offering, she’d no longer be crown princess of Maurice’s realm and she’d never get the chance to lead people in her own right.

“Perhaps that’s not the only way that you can help your people and get your father out of the sticky situation that he’s managed to get himself into,” Rumpelstiltskin said. The more he thought about it, the more a plan began to form in his mind.

“How?”

“Well, we’ve already established that my deal with your father has been fulfilled,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “So any deal that you make with me yourself would not stand in opposition to that.”

“You want me to make a deal with you?”

“No-one comes to me without a deal in mind,” Rumpelstiltskin repeated. “It might not be the deal you originally came to make, but if you think hard enough, I’m sure that you can think of something. Just be careful with your wording.”

Belle was silent for a long time, looking out into the depths of the lake. Rumpelstiltskin wondered what she could see in there that he couldn’t see himself.

“What would you want from me?” she asked eventually. “I know that a deal requires give and take on both sides.”

“That would depend entirely on what you want from me,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “All magic comes with a price, and it’s not one that I pay lightly. The greater the magic, the more precious the payment I extract for it.”

“Can you prevent a war between my father and Gaston’s?”

Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head on one side, pondering the various different methods and outcomes he could employ. He’d stopped wars before in his time, indeed, he had been rather famous for it back in the time of the first ogre wars, but preventing one before it happened was far more difficult and a diplomatic nightmare.

“That depends,” he said. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Is there a way for a peace treaty to be made that doesn’t involve me having to marry Gaston?”

Rumpelstiltskin snapped his fingers. “Now you’re talking. Peace treaty, no marriage. Yes, I think that can definitely be arranged.” He giggled, tapping his fingertips together. “Are you sure that you don’t want to come back to the sea to witness your father’s expression when I break the news to him?”

Belle shook her head. “No. I’d rather not tempt fate. Besides, we haven’t made the deal yet. You haven’t told me what you’d want from me in return for facilitating a peace treaty.”

“Well, no merperson can deny that their fin scales are extremely valuable to sorcerers like myself. And they’re far more potent when given willingly by the owner of the scales, rather than taken forcibly by scale merchants.”

Belle nodded slowly, still cautious. “How many do you want?”

“I am currently in need of five for particularly difficult potion,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “But if I were to require any more in the future, I would hope that I could call upon your assistance to provide them.”

Belle ran a hand over the smooth scales of her tail, bringing it completely out of the water and stretching it out on the bank.

“I supply you with scales as and when you need them, and in return, you facilitate a peace treaty between my father and Gaston’s.”

“Yes. But remember that the deal is open-ended, dearie. You would be agreeing to provide me with your scales forever.”

“So presumably, you would want me to stay close by.”

“Not necessarily,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Just as long as I always knew where to find you.”

Belle shook her head. “I don’t think I would take kindly to being tracked like an animal.”

“In that case, you would have to stay here. You’re welcome to the lake, and if you want to explore the land, then there’s the kelp to give you legs for a while.”

Belle looked down at the jar, and out across the lake. It would certainly be different for her, stuck in a lake when before she’d had the entirety of the open sea.

“My people would all be safe?” she asked.

Rumpelstiltskin nodded. “You have my word.”

“Then you have mine. Five scales for your potion now, and whenever you need them in the future. You won’t track me, but I will always come back to the lake.”

“And how do I know that you won’t run off?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“I think the prospect of war back home is enough of a deterrent, don’t you?” Belle said icily. “If I have to trust your word, then I think you should trust mine.”

“I always keep my word,” Rumpelstiltskin said. He was almost offended; he thought that was one of the things about him that always preceded his reputation, but apparently not in this case.

“And I always keep mine, as long as it hasn’t been given for me.”

She opened the little reed pouch around her waist and took out a pearlescent knife made from a shard of oyster shell, and she very carefully prised five little scales off her fin. The skin below was pink, but it didn’t bleed. Rumpelstiltskin snapped his fingers to summon a vial for them, and she tipped them in, but did not give them to him, instead holding out an elegant webbed hand for him to shake.

He took it.

“The deal is struck.”

Belle handed over the vial with her fin scales and looked at him expectantly.

“So, are you going to do something about the peace treaty now?”

“In good time, my dear. There’s no threat imminent at the moment. I’ll head out later this evening; I’ve found that merfolk tend to be more agreeable to listening to reason once darkness falls.”

Belle thought about it and shrugged. “I guess we are.”

She placed the shell knife back in her little pouch and took out a small bag shaking out a couple of grains of kelp into her hand and swallowing them.

“What are you doing?” Rumpelstiltskin yelped.

“Well, you’ve got the scales you want for now, and if you’re not going to go out and see my father until the evening, then that leaves us with the entire rest of the day to occupy ourselves,” Belle said plainly. “If this is going to be the place where I’m based for the rest of forever, then I want to take a look around the place from slightly closer up than just looking at it from the lake, and since I have the ability to do that, I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

“I suppose I can understand that,” Rumpelstiltskin began, but he gave a shrill squeak of alarm as Belle’s body began to transform, her tail splitting painlessly into legs and the scales that covered her receding into human skin. Very lovely, very bare human skin that she wasn’t showing any signs of feeling uncomfortable in. He quickly looked away, and he heard Belle chuckle as she got to her new feet.

“Honestly, Rumpelstiltskin, anyone would think that you’d never seen a naked woman before.”

“I…” He turned back to her indignantly, realised that she still didn’t have any clothes on and that now she was standing up he could see even more, and looked pointedly out over the lake.

“There’s usually a little bit more warning,” he muttered. Belle just laughed, light and musical, and he had to admit that it was the first time he had heard her sound carefree throughout their entire interaction. Before she had been wary, indignant and angry, but now that she had the assurance that her people were going to be safe, a different side of her could come out.

“You trust me,” Rumpelstiltskin stated.

“I know seven different ways to drown you slowly,” Belle replied blithely. “Not trusting you and not being scared of you are completely different things. I may not trust you yet, but I don’t fear you.”

“I can’t decide whether you’re very brave, or very foolish.”

“A bit of both,” Belle replied enigmatically. “You can turn around now, you know. I’m decent.”

Rumpelstiltskin duly turned around. Belle was wearing a short tunic made of a filmy, light-blue material that barely managed to scrape the definition of decent, but he was determined not to make a fool of himself in front of her again, not when she had proved to be such an interesting conversation partner. She was definitely going to start laughing at him soon.

“Where did that come from?” he asked. Belle tapped her reed pouch.

“It’s sea silk,” she said. “It folds up very small.”

With that, she started picking her way away from the lake, up towards the dark castle, and Rumpelstiltskin scrabbled to keep up with her. She was very confident on her legs considering she hadn’t had all that much practice on them yet, but there was the occasional wobble in her ankles when she put her foot down, and Rumpelstiltskin found himself darting out to catch her elbow whenever that happened. The first time she snatched her arm away, but the second time she let him guide her.

“I think it’s down to the lack of shoes,” Rumpelstiltskin said sagely, although he knew that it was nothing of the sort and he knew that they both knew that, but Belle just gave a huff of laughter. “I’ll get you some if you like, if you’re planning on making more trips on land.”

Belle opened her mouth as if she was going to protest, then shut it again and gave a slow nod.

“I think I’d like that,” she said eventually.

They spent the rest of the day going around the castle and the grounds, until Belle had to return to the water and the sun began to set, and Rumpelstiltskin knew that it was time for him to go and fulfil his end of the deal that he had struck with her. Taking the jar of kelp with him, he made his way back to the shoreline and stepped into the same boat that he had taken out into the deep waters before when he had made his first trip to Maurice’s kingdom.

It was just as dark and murky as it had been before, and the tension in the disturbed waters was even more palpable than it had been previously. Rumpelstiltskin smiled to himself slyly, if things had escalated so much, then Maurice would be eager to agree to his proposal. And as like as not, so would his expansionist neighbours once Rumpelstiltskin had put his plan into action.

He reached the stronghold and the guards let him through without question this time. Maurice was pacing the room, in as much as a merman could pace, casting glances over at the war table every few moments.

“Well?” he said anxiously once he saw Rumpelstiltskin approaching. The Dark One bowed; he was really going to have to practice bowing underwater if he was going to get many more calls from the merfolk to solve their problems.

“I have found your daughter,” he said.

Maurice gave a visible sigh of relief, but then his brow furrowed as he looked around.

“Where is she, then?”

“Oh, she’s not here,” Rumpelstiltskin said flippantly. “She’s inland, she’s found herself a nice little lake to live in.”

“We made a deal!” Maurice exclaimed. “You said that you would find her!”

“And I did find her,” Rumpelstiltskin pointed out. “I found her in a lake. As far as I’m concerned, the deal is fulfilled. You asked me to find your daughter and I did just that. No mention was made of me bringing her back here to you. You ought to have been more specific.”

“Can you bring her back?” Maurice asked desperately. “If you want to make a new deal then we can give you more kelp.”

Rumpelstiltskin wrinkled his nose. “No, I think I have more than enough kelp to see me through for a while thank you. And besides, I have already made another deal, and I do believe that any deal you make with me will negate the one already made. It’s a first come, first served system, dearie.”

“What other deal?” Maurice asked. “Do you even understand the precarious position that you’ve put me in here by returning without her?”

“I rather think that you put yourself in this position actually, Maurice,” Rumpelstiltskin said. There was a hard edge in his voice now, and Maurice noticed it immediately. This was no longer the trickster speaking, but the maker of hard and fast deals that no-one dared to try and get out of. The merman didn’t try and argue the point, and Rumpelstiltskin continued.

“I have made a new deal with your daughter.”

“She’s betrothed to Gaston!”

Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes. “Not that kind of deal, dearie. Honestly, heads in the gutter, the lot of you. I can assure you that marriage is not on my list of priorities at the moment. No, your daughter, who, I might add, has far more common sense than you do, has made a deal that will ensure your and your people’s safety, so I would be grateful to her if I were you. Gratitude doesn’t usually take the form of making someone marry someone else against their will as part of a giant political cover-up.”

Maurice looked abashed. “So what do you receive in return for this peace?”

Rumpelstiltskin tutted, wagging a finger at him. “You don’t get to know the ins and outs of someone else’s deal, dearie. Now, since the choppy waters around signal that time is of the essence, shall we hammer out the details of a peace treaty that doesn’t revolve around matrimony?”

He clapped his hands together and instantly the seas around the stronghold became much calmer than they had been before. The guards who had been on duty at the entrance looked down at their empty hands which had, until a moment ago, been holding long, sharp spears.

“Instant disarmament is one of the best ways of resolving conflict, don’t you agree?” Rumpelstiltskin asked Maurice benignly. “So much less bloodshed and shouting involved. Now, just one more piece of the puzzle missing.”

He snapped his fingers and another merman appeared in the stronghold, completely disorientated and looking rather distracted. This must have been Gaston’s father and the other participant in the ongoing aggressions. The two merfolk looked at each other, then at Rumpelstiltskin, then at the war table.

“Well go on then,” Rumpelstiltskin said impatiently. “Are we going to negotiate a peace treaty or aren’t we? I’d like to make at least some progress before this kelp runs out and I have to report back to Belle that her father failed miserably at basic diplomacy.”

Maurice and Gaston’s father both looked rather cowed, and within a few minutes, discussions had started in earnest. Rumpelstiltskin gave a satisfied smile. It never ceased to please him just how much could be accomplished by sheer audacity.

He turned to leave, confident that even if an agreement wasn’t reached today, then the lack of armaments on both sides would keep the peace until it could be reached permanently, and Maurice came over to him.

“Wait, Dark One, before you go…” He was still looking sheepish. “Is Belle all right? Is she going to come home?”

Rumpelstiltskin considered the question.

“I leave that entirely up to her,” he said. “Although, I must admit that her reaction when I told her just what was at stake and how you’d managed to place the entire fate of the kingdom on her head without her knowing it, well, it was a beautiful thing to behold. To be honest, I think it might be better all round if she doesn’t come back for a while, Maurice. She certainly doesn’t seem to be in a forgiving mood right now.”

Maurice’s shoulders slumped, and he went back to the table where discussions were still underway. Rumpelstiltskin left the stronghold. Belle would be free to come back to her father if she wished, as long as she still upheld her end of the deal and provided him with the scales he needed when he needed them, but he got the impression that she would not be returning for some time. She had already made no secret of her desire to explore, and there was a lot of world out there to be explored. She was headstrong and independent enough to survive out there, and she always had the Dark Castle lake to come back to as a base. If she had the sense to run away from her marriage and follow her own path, then she would definitely be fine on her extended adventure now she had the opportunity to truly follow it.

Rumpelstiltskin was surprised when he returned to the Dark Castle to find Belle inside it, sitting on the table in the main hall swinging her legs, and he tried and failed miserably to show it.

“How did you get in here?” he exclaimed.

Belle shrugged. “For an all-powerful sorcerer you really don’t have any concept of locks. Anyone can walk in.”

“No they…” Rumpelstiltskin tailed off. The castle was enchanted not to admit intruders whilst he was away from it, but since he had effectively made the castle and its grounds into Belle’s new home, it recognised her as a resident and would let her in as and when she chose.

“So,” she continued, her voice expectant. “Were you successful?”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded. “As promised, your father and the rest of your people are safe.”

She smiled widely, jumping off the table and making her way towards the doors.

“Thank you. I guess I’ll see you around, Rumpelstiltskin.”

She darted in and pecked a kiss of gratitude against his cheek, and Rumpelstiltskin could only stand there, dumbfounded, as she slipped past him, out into the grounds and back down towards the lake.

It was definitely the beginning of something. Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t quite sure what it was yet, and he wasn’t altogether sure that he liked it, but he knew that with the introduction of Belle into his life, things were going to be very different.

X

The first thing that Rumpelstiltskin noticed was how much time Belle spent inside the castle. She always went back to the lake at sundown to rest her tail and sleep in the depths, but more often than not, he would find her inside at some point during the day, either investigating all the human nicknacks that he owned, or stealing cookies from the kitchen. He was beginning to regret introducing her to human foodstuffs, but he had been correct in thinking that lake vegetation wasn’t going to sustain her forever. He wouldn’t have minded as much if she hadn’t decided that his favourite cookies were also her favourite cookies, and she kept taking the last one.

He had completely underestimated the merfolk’s capacity for enjoying the sweet treats that were unavailable to them under the water, and he accepted that he was going to have to stock up on cookies for the foreseeable future.

All in all, though, disappearing food aside, Rumpelstiltskin quite enjoyed having Belle around the place, and she had proved useful to him in more ways than simply providing the odd fin scale for his potions. Her knowledge of the underwater world and all the magics that were in place there far outstripped his own, and all the various legends - true and otherwise - of powerful sea witches that Rumpelstiltskin might want to form alliances were very good to know should the need to take sides ever arise.

He had become so used to catching glimpses of her around the place that when he didn’t see her for a couple of days, he began to get worried. He knew that he shouldn’t really worry too much, after all, he had told her that she could leave the castle grounds as long as she always returned to the lake, and it was perfectly natural that she would want to explore the wider world. Still, he wondered if perhaps the reason was because she had run out of kelp. With her being out of the water so often, she must have been eating up her supply pretty quickly.

Rumpelstiltskin looked over at the glass jar that held his own stash, and sighed. It was a precious commodity and he really shouldn’t be sharing it when he had no idea where his next deal might come from or where he might be required to go with it, but at the same time, he had to admit to himself that he missed Belle. Maybe it was time for him to go and visit her in her underwater domain for once, rather than them only ever meeting on dry land.

Taking the jar with him, Rumpelstiltskin made his way down towards the lake, getting halfway there before turning back and going to retrieve the cookie jar as well. She couldn’t very well eat the cookies under the water, but perhaps he could persuade her to sit on the bank with him for a while. He missed the little conversations they had, sharing details of life on land and under the water and getting to know each other’s cultures and stories.

He reached the lake and settled on the bank, and in an impulsive move, he took his boots off and dabbled his toes in the water. It was cool and refreshing, and for a while he could well see why Belle had agreed to stay in the lake. The scenery was beautiful, and he didn’t take as much time to appreciate it as he always used to.

“Oh, hello there.” Belle’s head had popped up from below the surface a few feet away from him and she looked surprised to see him there. “I wasn’t expecting you to come down here, Rumpel. What brings you to my humble lake?”

“Technically it’s my lake,” Rumpelstiltskin protested. “And I don’t think it’s at all humble, thank you very much.”

Belle just giggled. “You haven’t answered my question. Were you missing me?”

“Of course not!” Rumpelstiltskin was incredibly flustered; he’d only just managed to admit to himself that he missed her, he couldn’t be admitting it to her as well. “It’s actually been very quiet and peaceful without you sneaking around the castle knocking over the suits of armour.”

“That was one time! I didn’t know that it was going to move on its own. Naturally, I was startled!”

“Excuses, excuses. Anyway, I haven’t missed you stealing all my cookies.”

“Is that why you brought the cookie jar with you?” Belle asked, eyeing the treats. “Getting withdrawal symptoms of having all your cookies stolen?”

“No, I was more concerned that you might be having withdrawal symptoms having gone for two days without any sugar, considering the amount that you’ve been eating over the past few weeks.”

Belle laughed, but nevertheless, she pulled herself up onto the bank beside him and snaffled a cookie, nibbling it delicately.

“So…” Rumpelstiltskin began, creating ripples in the water with his feet as he tried to phrase his question casually. “What adventures have you been on these past few days whilst you haven’t been eating my cookies?”

“Oh, I haven’t been anywhere,” Belle said. “I’ve been right here in the lake the entire time. I guess I must have lost track of the days. I’ve been busy working on a new project.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised an eyebrow. “A new project?”

“Yes.” Belle finished her cookie and grabbed the kelp jar, holding it out to him. “Come and see.”

“Can’t you show me from here?”

Belle rolled her eyes. “No, or else I would have done so. Come on, it’s not like there’s anything in the lake that’s going to eat you. I’ve spent enough time in here to have worked that out.”

“You might eat me,” Rumpelstiltskin protested, and Belle just shot him a look.

“I’ve been living here for months and you haven’t noticed that merfolk are vegetarians?”

“You might be the exception that proves the rule!”

It was a stupid argument, one that wasn’t really an argument but just an excuse to needle each other in the easy way that they had developed over the past weeks of interactions in the castle.

“Just come on,” Belle said, sliding back down into the water and holding out a hand to him. “You’ll want to see this, I promise.”

Not entirely convinced, Rumpelstiltskin nonetheless swallowed a grain of kelp and jumped into the water after Belle.

The water in the lake was much clearer and nowhere near as deep as the open sea had been, and it was easy to see where Belle made her home, on the lake bed in a little alcove decorated with pebbles and shells and some other implements that he recognised as having been taken from the Dark Castle, and it was cushioned with reeds and other plants from the lake. She’d certainly made it her own, and it made Rumpelstiltskin smile to see how she had accepted this as her home and made it into her place.

“Do you like it?” Belle asked.

He nodded. “It’s very you.” It did remind him of her, with the eclectic collection of pretty things that she had found on her expeditions around the castle and grounds.

“I’m glad you approve of my redecorating. But that’s not what I brought you down here to see. Come on, it’s not too much further.”

They continued to swim along the lake bed, away from Belle’s home, and then Rumpelstiltskin saw what he was supposed to see.

Belle had created a little underwater garden, dividing the sandy lake bed up into squares with various little sprouts poking out.

“I thought that this might be of particular interest to you,” she said, pointing out some bright green shoots in one corner. “Soon you’ll have as much kelp as you need, without having to make deals with the other merfolk to get it.”

Rumpelstiltskin just gazed at her handiwork for a while. He would see why it had taken her away from the castle for a couple of days.

“It’s wonderful, Belle,” he said.

She beamed. “I’m glad you like it. I’ve got water vervain and willowreed as well, and soon there’ll be lilies. The seaweed didn’t take, it needs salt water.”

“Where did you get all these sprouts?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“I brought them with me,” Belle said simply. “I didn’t know where I might end up when I left home, so I decided to bring a little bit of home with me, so that wherever I made my new home, I would always have a little part of my old one to remind me.” She paused, and she looked over at Rumpelstiltskin with a smile that was a little shyer than usual. “I’m glad that my home ended up being here with you.”

“You don’t want to go back to the sea? To your father?”

She shook her head. “I’ll go back and visit him, at some point. When I’m not quite as angry with him. But really, I don’t think I’ve ever had any desire to stay in the sea. I’ve spent most of my life in the stronghold and there’s so much more world out here to discover. I’d rather stay here in the lake and use it as my base for exploring the rest of the world.”

“So, you’re happy here? With me?”

Belle nodded. “Yes. I would say I was happy. What about you? Are you happy with a mermaid living in your lake and stealing all your cookies?”

“Maybe not the cookies.”

“But you enjoy the company?”

The trouble with being in the water and significantly less mobile than the mermaid who was designed to be in the water was that he couldn’t really gracefully get away from her. Every time he tried to avoid the question, she simply swirled up through the water beside him again.

“It’s a big castle for just one person,” she said sagely. “You know, I think that when you made that deal to get me to stay here, you were lonely.”

“Having company has been… pleasant,” Rumpelstiltskin admitted. He didn’t have his own loneliness in mind when he had first made the deal, but now that he thought about it, he had grown to enjoy Belle’s company more and more, to the point where he had sought her out in the lake in order to enjoy her company again.

Belle smiled, and she brought one hand up to touch Rumpelstiltskin’s face. The feathery webbing between her fingers tickled his skin, but he didn’t flinch away. Here in the cool water, her usually cold hands felt warm to the touch, and he was still marvelling at the change when her lips pressed against his, a little tentative, with the air of just seizing the moment and going for it.

He returned the kiss readily. He hadn’t even realised until this moment just how much he had wanted to kiss her, but as he did, everything began to fall into place. He had been falling in love with her, and he either hadn’t noticed or had subconsciously pushed the thought to the back of his mind. It was impossible. They were two entirely different species, for a start.

But they were still kissing, and Belle’s arms were around his neck, pulling him closer, and he found himself kissing his way down over her jaw and neck, feeling the texture of the light scattering of scales on her skin against his lips. It couldn’t work, and yet he really didn’t want to stop kissing her.

Eventually he pulled away, as much as he could with Belle’s arms still around him, and he shook his head.

“Belle, I, you, us… We can’t.”

“Why not?” Belle asked. “If we both feel this way, which I think we do, then why can’t we do this?”

“I’m a human.” Rumpelstiltskin looked down at himself and his own strange skin. “Well, as good as one. You’re a mermaid. We’re slightly biologically incompatible for a start. We live in different worlds. You’re meant for water. I’m meant for land. We could hardly have a life together.”

“Isn’t what we have already a life together?” Belle asked. “We don’t have to spend every moment of time together to know how we feel about each other.”

It was a very good point. Despite their differences, they still spent time together, both in the castle and out here in the lake. There was some adaptation involved, and a lot of kelp, but soon, thanks to Belle’s garden, they would have a steady supply of that, and it would help them to live in each others’ worlds together.

“You’re right,” he said. He wished he didn’t sound so surprised by the fact, but he was more surprised with himself for not seeing it rather then with Belle for suggesting it in the first place.

“And as for biological incompatibility, well, I think I might have a solution for that,” Belle continued.

Rumpelstiltskin raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Belle shook her head. “Not yet. In a little while. Let’s not move too quickly.”

Rumpelstiltskin had to agree. It was a revelation in itself, there was no need to complicate things any further by moving through the stages of this brand new relationship at a breakneck pace. It was probably best to let them get used to the idea of being together and the logical challenges that they would face before becoming more intimate. Although, the thought that they would become intimate at some point in the future stirred a little frisson of excitement in Rumpelstiltskin’s veins, one that he had not felt for a very long time. The very possibility of finding love again, even in these most unusual of circumstances, was new to him, and whilst he couldn’t help thinking that everything would go horribly wrong like it had done in his previous relationships, the fact that Belle seemed so confident about their ability to adapt gave him a little bit of hope that perhaps wouldn’t have been there previously.

She was certain that they could work things out, and he already knew how headstrong and determined she could be. If she thought that they could make this relationship work, then they would be able to make this relationship work.

He kissed her again, and Belle welcomed him readily, and they stayed locked in their underwater embrace until Rumpelstiltskin felt the effects of the kelp wearing off, and he had to return to the surface. Belle followed him up.

“I’ll see you in the castle tomorrow?” he asked as he pulled himself out onto the shore, waving a hand to dry off his clothes.

Belle smiled.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to miss my daily dose of cookies, after all.”

Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, disappearing the jars he’d brought with him back to their respective homes.

“Good night, Belle.”

“Good night, Rumpel.”

X

There wasn’t too much change to their routines after that momentous decision was made. They would still meet up in the castle, or Rumpelstiltskin would go down to the lake, and they would still spend that time together when Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t out dealing, but now there was far more kissing involved, and far more hugs and gentle touches now that their feelings were out in the open and being explored to their fullest potential.

Although he was more than happy to wait until Belle was ready to move their relationship forward, Rumpelstiltskin still found himself wondering precisely how it was going to work. He loved Belle, he loved kissing her, and he wanted to make love to her, but the logistics of it seemed to be impossible to reconcile.

True enough, when Belle was out of the water, she had legs and all the necessary bits between them, like any normal human woman had. After all, he had seen her naked human form when they had met that first time. The issue was that it was not Belle’s true form, and he didn’t want the experience to be strange or in any way lesser for her because she was not in her natural form, especially as he knew that this would be her first experience and he wanted to make sure that it was a good one for her.

Merfolk were not meant to keep their legs for a long period of time, just as humans were not supposed to remain underwater for extended lengths. It seemed that having a satisfactory intimate relationship would be completely impossible.

He didn’t mind if their relationship remained celibate. There were many other ways for them to express their feelings for each other without the need for anything of that sort, but he couldn’t help noticing that there was a brightness in Belle’s eyes, and in addition to the cookies, some of the Dark Castle library had been going missing, turning up a couple of days later with slightly damp-stained edges. Belle had been consulting various works, and looking at the books that she had been consulting, she definitely seemed to be interested in pursuing further passions than they already shared.

There wasn’t anything particularly special about the day that it happened. They had been sitting in the main hall, taking tea together, Belle sitting on the table as was her habit. She liked to swing her legs as they talked, and Rumpelstiltskin realised that it was the same motion that she moved her tail in when she was sitting on the banks of the lake. One thing led to another, and before Rumpelstiltskin could protest, Belle had dropped off the table into his lap, her arms around his neck and her mouth on his, her kiss deep and fierce and possessive. Rumpelstiltskin could only melt into it, pulling her in close and opening his mouth readily for her. There was a cheeky little smile on her face as she broke away.

“I think I’m ready now,” she said.

“Ready for what?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. He was still a little stunned from the force of the kiss, so he thought that he could be forgiven for being somewhat slow on the uptake.

“To show you how the biological differences between our species shouldn’t be a problem.” Belle slipped off his lap and held out a hand to him. “Are you coming?” She paused. “I know that we could do it here, in your bed, and maybe we can do that next time.”

Next time? They hadn’t even had a first time and Belle was already thinking about a next time. Somehow that made the pressure just a little bit more present.

“I just think that it’ll be better in the water,” she continued.

Rumpelstiltskin gave a slow nod, and took Belle’s hand, letting her pull him up out of his chair and lead him out of the castle, down towards the lake. The sun was high in the sky in a clear afternoon, and the surface of the water was perfectly calm as it glittered in the light.

Rumpelstiltskin came to a sudden realisation and turned back towards the castle.

“I forgot to bring the kelp.”

“You won’t need it,” Belle said. “We’ll stay in the shallows, you won’t need to go underwater.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure, Rumpel. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything in my life.”

They had reached the bank, and Belle toed off her shoes before slipping out of the sea silk tunic that she wore when she was on land. Rumpelstiltskin had gifted her a few more items of clothing to wear whilst she was out and about exploring the human world, but she always tended to come back to the simple tunic whilst she was around the castle and its grounds.

Her human form was lovely, and she turned to him without any degree of embarrassment. Now that Rumpelstiltskin could look at her at leisure and up close, he could see the faint silvery lines marking her skin which showed where her tail and the other scaled patches on her body would normally begin. It gave her beauty an otherworldly feel, and reminded him that Belle was so much more than a human in that moment. She giggled, watching him gawp at her unashamedly, then reached out to begin undoing the buttons on his waistcoat.

“Now, I’ll admit that I don’t know quite as much about human courtship rituals as I do about those of my own people, but I have read enough to know that you’re wearing far too many clothes for this, Rumpel. I really think you’ll be more comfortable if you take them all off.”

Dumbstruck by her confidence but nonetheless incredibly aroused by it, Rumpelstiltskin let Belle undress him, her fingers working his buttons deftly and his waistcoat and shirt swiftly being discarded. She fumbled on the lacings of his trousers; sometimes he forgot that she was used to having webbing between her fingers and they were not as flexible as they might otherwise have been, and he used a touch of magic to divest himself of the rest of his clothing. His cock was half-hard already, and Belle running a featherlight finger along his length had him twitching eagerly, ready for whatever might come next.

“Come on in,” Belle said. She slipped down into the water, scales shimmering over her body and her tail forming almost as soon as she entered the lake, but she kept her head above water, paddling until Rumpel was in the water as well, crouching in the shallows, the water up to his chin. The cool water was a nice contrast to the warm sun, and he didn’t think that Belle could have picked a better time or place for their first time together.

Before he knew it, Belle was back in his arms, kissing him with a passion that promised much more of the same to come. Her hand came back down to his cock, and the delicate touch of the light webbing on her hands was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Rumpelstiltskin threw his head back with a groan; if she kept this up then he was never going to last long enough for them to get anything done, however Belle was going to do it.

“Belle,” he gasped. “Belle, my love, how are we going to do this?”

“Have you never wondered how merfolk make love to each other?” Belle asked.

The question brought him up short, because he had never given it any thought at all, and he couldn’t see why he hadn’t thought about it. It was certainly true that both male and female merfolk had tails and no visible genitalia, but he’d focussed so much on the logistical problems caused by him being a human and Belle being a mermaid that he hadn’t given any thought to how Belle might interact in this way with her own kind.

“No,” he said. Belle gave him a little smile.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she said.

With that, she dived under the water, and was soon gone from sight, down into the depths of the lake. Rumpelstiltskin wondered what on earth she could be doing down there, but then she was back, a few strands of bright green vegetation in her hand. Rumpelstiltskin recognised it for what it was; fresh kelp pulled straight from her lake bed garden.

“I don’t suppose you’ve noticed that when we take kelp to get legs, we always wait until we’re out of the water before we take it, have you?”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head.

“It has a slightly different effect when we use it underwater,” Belle said. “There’s a reason why it’s such a staple commodity in merfolk communities. No matter where you go in the seas, there will always be a constant crop of fresh kelp growing.”

She sank beneath the surface again and through the clear water, Rumpelstiltskin saw her swallow the kelp.

The change was gradual at first, and he didn’t really notice it, but then it became clear that something was happening to Belle’s tail. Rumpelstiltskin took a deep breath and ducked his head under the water so that he could see better, and he almost gasped and choked at what he saw.

Belle’s legs were forming from her tail, just as they had done on land, but they were still scaled like her tail was, with fins instead of feet. He had to come up for air, but everything was falling into place now.

Belle surfaced again, and came in to kiss him deeply, wrapping her arms and fins around him. Rumpel chanced to skim his hands down her scaled sides and dip between them, finding Belle’s sex, a strange mixture of smooth and scales but ultimately a familiar shape. She gave a moan of arousal as he touched her, running his fingers along her folds and finding her entrance, dipping inside to find her warm and slippery.

“Oh Belle,” he breathed, kissing along her neck and shoulder. “You’re exquisite.”

“So are you,” Belle replied. Rumpelstiltskin was half-tempted not to believe her, he knew what he looked like and the water wasn’t doing anything to obscure that, but the wonder in her voice was genuine, and the compliment stoked the fire that was already running through his veins. He kissed his way back up to her mouth and she captured his lips once more, her hands coming down to his hips beneath the water. She was rutting up against his hand, and Rumpelstiltskin shifted in the water to keep his balance and be able to keep touching her. Aside from the texture of her skin, she was formed in just the same way as a human woman, and as he rubbed his thumb over her swollen clit, the little gasp she gave made him certain that she was feeling all the same sensations as a human.

“Is that good?” he asked, wanting to make absolutely sure. “Do you like that?”

“Oh yes, Rumpel, yes. I like that a lot. Do it again, please.”

He rubbed her pearl again, and Belle moaned, her fingertips digging into him, and her fins quivering on either side of his body. He pushed a finger up inside her channel, continuing to rub her. She was still so slick and slippery inside, despite all the water around them; it must be an adaptational quirk, and it was one that he was very grateful for. Belle moaned again, her forehead dropping down against his shoulder as he kept on touching her, and he guessed that she must be getting close.

“Feels good,” she panted, “feels so good, please don’t stop, please, Rumpel, please.”

“Whatever you want, my love.” Rumpelstiltskin pressed another finger up inside her and Belle keened, her hips rolling and the edges of her fins creating ripples in the water as she moved.

He felt the moment that she came, clutching at his fingers and squealing with delight as she rode out the high. For a while after he pulled out he just rubbed at her gently, and Belle panted against his shoulder.

“You know, I’ve been reading about this, but nothing really prepares you for the real thing,” she murmured.

Rumpelstiltskin gave a huff of laughter. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

She stayed flopped against him, safe in his arms, for a few more minutes, but then one hand trailed down his chest towards his cock, stroking him back to full hardness again.

“Feels good?” she asked. Rumpelstiltskin nodded, speechless, biting his tongue to try and stop him coming there and then in her hand. The texture of her skin, the light scaling and the delicate webbing, really was something else, unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

“That feels very good,” he said.

“Do you think that it would feel better inside?” Belle asked. There was a cheekiness to her voice, but when Rumpelstiltskin finally managed to open his eyes and look at her, there was a little blush rising in her usually pale face, a touch of pink behind the smattering of blue scales there, and she was biting her lip.

“If you want to, then I am sure that would feel heavenly,” he said.

Belle nodded, wrapping her fins around his body again and letting him take the lead, grabbing his cock and lining them up.

She did feel heavenly; hot and tight and slick all around him. With the buoyancy of the water, he didn’t have all that much leverage to thrust, and he held onto her hips.

“You move, sweetheart. You set the pace.”

Belle nodded, her hips beginning to roll a little, and Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes. He didn’t think that he had ever been this close to a woman when they’d been intimate before, either physically or emotionally. Belle was clinging to him like a limpet, her arms and fins wound tightly around his body and her face buried in his neck, pecking messy little butterfly kisses to his skin, and he never wanted her to let go of him.

Her pace was slow, staying at a level where she was comfortable with him inside her, and Rumpelstiltskin could feel his orgasm building in the depths of his belly, everything so achingly drawn out and languid, like the sweetest torture imaginable. He was so very close, teetering on the edge and desperate for release but at the same time never wanting it to end.

“Belle!”

It did end, though, with both of them holding onto each other so tightly it was a miracle that they were able to let go. Neither of them spoke; there wasn’t anything to be said that couldn’t be conveyed with kisses and caresses at that moment. At length Belle unwound her fins, and Rumpelstiltskin slipped his softening cock out of her, and he noticed that her tail was beginning to reform into a single fin.

“I guess that’s definitely one way to overcome the biological incompatibilities,” he said eventually, and he felt Belle smile against his skin where she was curled up against his chest.

“I told you that there was a solution,” she murmured.

“You did indeed.”

“And it’s not the only solution,” she said. “Now that we’ve done it once, I think there might be all kinds of creative solutions that we can try. The books you have in your library are very informative, and there are several things I’d be interested in adapting to our particular situation.” One hand snaked back down to his cock again. “I imagine it must be quite the sensation to be kissed down there by a woman who doesn’t need to come up for air.”

Rumpelstiltskin gulped at the prospect of Belle using her mouth on him, and underwater no less. It was certainly something that he wasn’t going to say no to if she decided that she wanted to try it. He wondered if he could return the favour; there was nothing to say that they both couldn’t take some kelp and enjoy themselves in the depths of the lake.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more the wealth of opportunities that their unique situation gave them presented itself. Instead of limiting them, it would give them all kinds of things to explore that they otherwise wouldn’t be able to if Belle had been a human.

It was with a little reluctance that he had to extricate himself from Belle’s arms and get out of the water for fear of turning into a prune, but the sly little smile on Belle’s face as he knelt on the bank to kiss her au revoir told him that as soon as she had recovered, she would be following him into the Dark Castle to continue their exploration.

Despite the rather unusual start to their acquaintance, and despite the undeniable difference in their species, Rumpelstiltskin knew that the love they shared was genuine, and it was one that they were going to enjoy for a long time to come.

[ryik-the-writer]

May Day Menergerie for @nropay!! It’s also a remix to my Mer!Rumple series based off @foxmurphey’s artwork. It’s not nearly as long as I wanted it to be but I did my best to accommodate all you asked for. I hope you like it and Happy May Day!

A03

-,-,-,-,-,-

“Come on Papa!” the little merman called out to his father who immediately held a finger up to his lips.

“Quiet Bae,” the older merman warned gently, glancing around the empty clump of beach. Looks were deceiving however, as he had learned the day he first met Belle.

He and Bae had first met Belle one day when she had stumbled onto the beach. It was a bit odd to see a human in this section of the beach. No one ever came to the small cove the mermen had called their home for a little over a year now. It was too far from the loud docks and eateries the humans thrived on, and the waves were too low to satisfy the ones who brought their giant boards.

Rumple, despite both his and his son’s curiosity, had made them move on, and considered leaving the town once and for all. The day Belle had fallen off a boat and nearly drown had been the point that everything in their quiet, inactive lives changed. Upon taking her back to the cove to recover, Belle had taken to their existence surprisingly well. Rumple had been weary at first, having had a bad experience with a human in the past and not knowing if Belle was trustworthy. He had to protect his son after all.

But Belle had proved herself an unofficial mermaid in no time, and soon she was a permanent part of their lives. She went on adventures with them, helped them nurse the injured birds and sealife back to health, and brought them treats during each visit.

“There she is!” Bae said excitedly, gliding to where Belle was setting up on the beach. She heard Bae and her face nearly split in two.

Rumple felt the familiar flutter in his chest at the sight. His son must have sensed it, as he glanced back and gave his father an all-knowing smirk.

“You like her, don’t you papa?” Bae had asked him one night as they watched the waves descend.

“Of course,” Rumple answered safely. “She’s much different than other humans.”

“No,” Bae scoffed. “Really like her.”

Rumple knew what his son meant and knew that he did indeed feel something for Belle. How could he not? She was so caring, so intelligent, and just saying her name filled him with a deep-seated adoration for her.

But soon, reality would sink in, and he was reminded that he, a merman, could never be with her.

However, he refused to think about it and instead focused on the present, and in the present Bae was gliding into Belle’s lap, so comfortable in her arms, as he searched eagerly through her bag for today’s treat.

“Bae, manners,” Rumple reminded his son as he glided to Belle’s side.

“It’s fine Rumple,” Belle chuckled as she ruffled Bae’s waves of curls which were starting to grow over his eyes.

Bae was in his fifth year now, and still had the innocence and wonder of a young one. Unlike his father, he didn’t have a blemish on him, a reminder that the world had been good to him. The fin of his seaweed-green tail was still intact, and would hopefully remain that way for the rest of his days.

Bae gasped in delight when he found Belle’s treat.

“Gummy worms!” he exclaimed, ripping the package open with his sharp teeth. He had been weary to eat the sugary insects the first time Belle had brought them to the mermen. Worms were a last-result meal for merfolk, and were often dangerously pilfered off the hooks of fishers. Once Belle told them that these kinds of worms didn’t crawl back up, they instantly rivaled with pudding as their favorite snack.

Belle managed to fish out a few before Bae dug in and offered one to Rumple. His fingers graced against her palm as he took it and they gave each other a shy smile.

“Belle?”

Belle nearly chocked on her candy and frantically looked around for the source of her name. By the time she turned back around, Rumple and Bae were already swimming safely to the cluster of rocks just off the cove, just close enough that they could hear the greetings of the new humans.

“Papa…” Bae’s tiny voice squeaked.

“It’s okay son,” Rumple whispered as he and Bae ducked behind the rocks. Belle didn’t betray them, he told himself repeatedly. She couldn’t have. Someone must have seen her. That by itself was a problem, but they’d get to that later.

“Stay down,” he told him gently, peaking out from behind the rocks to see three humans carefully making their way down the sand dune.

One was an obvious male and was carrying a load of supplies. The other human was wearing a flowing skirt, but their hair was short and black, something Rumple wasn’t used to seeing on a human female. The last human was small, about Bae’s size, and had long blond hair that bounced as she ran into Belle’s arms.

Belle glanced to the rocks as she picked the child in her arms, giving Rumple an apologetic half-smile before turning back to the humans.

“Mary Margaret, how did you know I was here?” Belle inquired to the dark-haired human as the blond one squirmed from her arms. Mary Margaret and David were visiting Storybrooke for Emma’s summer vacation. Belle was supposed to be entertaining them, but when they had announced that they were going to go see the sites she took the opportunity to visit Rumple and Bae.

“Your car was around the corner, we thought we’d come see what you were up to.” she explained as she took a few of the blankets from her husband’s arms and spread them over the sand. “Oh it’s beautiful out here, and so quiet. I see now why you keep sneaking away—Emma, sweetie, don’t go out too far!”

The little blonde glanced back at her mother before skipping through the low waves.

Mary Margaret sighed as her husband finally dropped their things. “Kids.” She chuckled.

Belle nodded absently, annoyed that her friend would just show up but more worried about Emma as she got closer to the rocks. The tide was too low. If Rumple and Bae swam away now, they’d be seen, and she knew from years as Mary Margaret’s friend that she couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.

Rumple kept a hand on Bae’s shoulder as the little splashed further into he water.

The merman looked over to assure his son that everything would be alright but found the boy staring at the little girl with wide-eyed wonder.

“Papa, what is that?” Bae whispered.

Rumple followed his line of site to the human child as she splashed further into the water.

“A human, Bae.” He answered quietly. “Just like Belle.”

“But…she’s so small.” Bae said.

Rumple looked the small human over. “She’s about your age.”

“Wow.” Bae said, his voice rising slight from the awe.

Rumple and shushed him, glancing up to find in horror that the little human was staring directly at them. Behind her was Belle, wide-eyed and pale. The child’s parents were too busy setting up their things to take notice of the wonderous event happening between their daughter and the creatures of legend.

Emma however didn’t seem afraid. She didn’t try to alert her parents of them. She simply raised her small hand and waved at them.

Rumple stayed completely still. Even if she was just a child, new humans were still untrustworthy. And loud.

“Bae, let’s move.” Rumple whispered so quietly he wasn’t sure if the words had come out at all. He looked down at his son to motion him away, but found Bae crawling closer to the human. Rumple glanced frantically back at Belle.

Belle calmly waddled out to the rocks where Emma was, turning a reassuring smile to the parents.

“Hey,” Belle greeted when she climbed onto one of the rocks.

“Look Aunt Belle!” Emma shrilled. “Fish people!”

Belle shushed her, glancing back long enough to make sure David and Mary Margaret were occupied.

“Yes sweetie,” Belle nodded, softening her voice for the five-year-old. “Their called mermen.”

“Hi mermen!” Emma greeted so loudly Belle’s heart nearly stopped.

“H-hi.” Bae greeted, more awestruck that fearful. His pale cheeks turned a tinted pink when Emma giggled.

“Their friends of mine. But there also my secret.”

Emma turned away from the petrified mermen long enough to give her god-aunt a pointed look. “Mama says it’s not right to keep secrets.”

“You’re mom would say that,” Belle sighed, rolling her eyes before she got explained the situation in a way a five-year old would.

“Sweetie, do you remember when I went on that fieldtrip with you to the aquarium?”

Emma nodded, her eyes fixed on Bae.

“And you remember that whale we saw in one of the tanks and how sad you said he looked?”

Emma looked at her aunt, wisdom filling her big green eyes.

“The whale was sad because the scientists to put him in the tank took him from his home. If someone finds out about Rumple and Bae…that could happen too.” Belle said, her eyes meeting Rumple’s worried one’s.

Emma turned back to the mermen, her eyes searching them.

“Which one of you is Bae?”

Bae raised his small webbed hand.

“Good,” Emma said, crossing her legs on the rock. “We’re going to be friends.”

“W-we are?” Bae squeaked.

“Mmm-hmm,” Emma nodded. “Best friends.”

Rumple and Belle exchanged surprised looks at the little girl’s gumption. Belle had to hold back a smirk.

“Belle, Emma?” Mary Margaret’s voice echoed to the rocks.

Belle stiffened, remembering the situation at hand.

“So you promise…to keep your new friend safe?” Belle asked.

“Yeah,” Emma agreed with a toothy smile.

Rumple sagged against the rocks in relief. Another day, another disaster averted.

Bae smiled in return, intrigued by this smaller human.

“We better go,” Belle said, noticing when both Bae and Emma’s faces fell.

“Agreed,” Rumple nodded. “Thank you, Belle.”

Belle smiled before picking up her god-niece and waddled back to shore.

“Mama I a new friend!” Emma exclaimed, causing Belle to wince. So much for keeping secrets.

“That’s nice sweetie. Come here so I can put more sunscreen on you. You’re turning brown already.”

“Aw mama!” Emma whined as her mother smeared the thick paste on her shoulders.

Belle chuckled and looked back at the rocks. She could see the torn fin of Rumple’s golden tail peak out from the water as he and Bae swam away. She sighed, exhausted but optimistic for the future.

If she brought Emma out here more often, she and Bae could make friends while her and Rumple spent a bit more adult-time with each other.

She really didn’t see the harm in that.

[thecompletebookworm]

Where the Sea Takes You

A very happy @maydaymenagerie to the incredible @findingtallahassee, who is an absolute saint and was far too willing to put up with me.  

This is very loosely based on the Adaro, a little bit of Solomon Islands' mythology.  Basically I've made the Adaro more humanoid, allowed them to be any gender, and veered away from the definition where it is just the evil part of a person's soul that is trapped on Earth terrorizing others while the rest of them can pass on.  Takes place post 3A, and ignores the Dark One Vault mythology. 

Available on AO3 as well.  

This was a stupid idea, an absolutely crazy stupid idea.  She skirted around the edge of the water, being careful not to touch it just yet.   Though to be fair, Belle had already tried most of the less out there ideas and her heart was aching. 

She hadn't stayed too long with the other Storybrooke residents once she was back. If she was going to feel all alone, she might as well feel alone where she felt at home.  

Not that it was anyone's fault. The Charmings had an entire kingdom to run and their daughter's absence to grieve.  She'd been happy to see Robin again, to play with the little boy who had been saved by a deal made what felt like ages ago.  Still, even as she helped with finding blankets and sorting through other supplies, Belle felt empty.  Sure she was helping people, and maybe she was being selfish, but right now the only person she wanted to help was her True Love.  

She refused to believe he was dead.   Even though that was probably the safest assumption, with his dagger through his chest.  But Rumplestiltskin had disappeared in a blinding flash of light.  His lifeless body hadn't hit the ground.  She hadn't cradled it to her chest, her tears soaking into his suit that only in death could look unkempt, as his lifeless eyes stared up at her.  While those images had haunted her nightmares, they were not reality.  Only his dagger had clattered to the ground.  

The others didn't quite see it that way.  She didn't need her pitying looks.  Her true love was out there and she was going to do everything in her power to find him.  

Belle had scoured the Charming's library and then the Dark Castle's.  While never one to shy away from research, there was something troubling about especially difficult about hunting down a way to find Rumple with no clues.  She could write a better book about the Dark Ones than any of the ones she found, although that was probably by design.  She could practically hear Rumple's voice in her head, muttering about wanting to know the monster's weaknesses.  

Like she needed a book to do that.  Experience had taught her well.  While technically Dark Ones do not need sleep, they should not be left working magic for longer than 15 hours at a time if you want a sociable Dark One.  Provide cookies at teatime for a smile.  Warm patches of sunlight were irresistible when grouchy.  

Although looking back, maybe she just knew what made Rumplestiltskin tick, not the dark one specifically.  

Belle's foot grazed the water and she jerked it back.  She was not going to summon the creature before she was ready, or at least until she had taken the precautions so that she knew she was summoning the right creature.  

Belle had found the first mention of the creature when she'd translated some of the ancient Fairy texts.  These waters were haunted by fearsome beasts, the Adaro, if she'd read it correctly.  At first Belle had dismissed the creatures as just another name for merfolk, but after talking it over with Ariel she decided a little more research was necessary.  Ariel had never heard of any merperson with a shark's dorsal fin or a sword extending from their forehead. And the line proclaiming, the Adaro to be affected by the darkest of magic and forced into serving penance, seemed to fit too perfectly.  

Her heart had swelled with hope when she had finally found a ship willing to take her to an island in the heart of Adaro territory, but Belle had tried to not let her hope get the better of her.   The Adaro were by no means her first theory, failing the intervention of fate, they were her last.   She had traveled to countless forests and enough ominous caves to know that just because something worked on paper, there was no guarantee that it would lead her to her True Love.    

Belle shuddered in the cool ocean breeze, more from anticipation than anything else really. She moved a few steps further in land to avoid the tide as she pulled the final ingredients to summon the Adaro from her satchel.  A lock of her hair, a handkerchief she'd just happened to have in her pocket when they left Storybrooke, a tiny square of leather from her favorite pair of his pants and their chipped cup.  Nervously smoothing out the handkerchief one last time, Belle kicked off her shoes and approached the water, her feet sinking into the wet sand.  

She closed her eyes and stepped forward.   As her toes touched the water, Belle drew forth her last memory of Rumplestiltskin.  

"I love you, Belle. You made me stronger."   She echoed his last words to herself.  

Belle kept walking forward into the sea, the water rising higher and higher up her legs.  While she stumbled over a rock on the seabed, she did not open her eyes.  When the water reached her chest, she began to drop the items one by one, visualizing Rumplestiltskin as she did so.  

The Handkerchief floated for a second before it sank in the murky water, practically glowing under the light of the moon.  She thought of when he first found her again and they were headed back from the well in his car.  She had started crying silent tears.  This world was new and overwhelming but Rumplestiltskin was somehow there with her.   He couldn't very well dry her tears while driving but he had pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her.   He'd held her hand the whole ride home, which she now knew from experience, was not the safest idea.  But Rumplestiltskin had been a better driver than her and when they made it home in one piece, he had clutched her to his chest and promised he was never going anywhere.  

Belle bit her lip, trying to keep herself on the task at hand.  As soon as she got him back, Belle was going to keep him to that promise.  

The leather fragment was next.  He had always looked so good in those pants.  She had thought she was coming down with something the first time she saw him in them.  Her heart rate had sped and she felt clammy.  Looking back it was almost silly how much worried she'd been, but to be fair it was the first real taste of attraction.  And she certainly was heartsick in the end.  

Her hair, the hair of a lover, was one of the strongest summoners.  It was why many deemed this ritual too difficult or risky.  The Adaro were supposed to be the most fearsome of men and women in their pasts.  Finding a love, or even someone they cared about was supposed to be the most difficult step.   But in their case, it had been the simplest ingredient.  

Belle turned the chipped cup over in her hand, running her hand carefully over the fractured edge.  She had been so worried upon her arrival at the Dark Castle, but even when he was pretending to be indifferent, Rumplestiltskin had known exactly what to say to calm her down.  

She finally opened her eyes, the cup still clutched in her right hand.  It was hard to see, but she thought she might see some movement in the distance.   As the movement drew closer, she saw not one, but nearly half a dozen dorsal fins sticking out of the black water.    Belle stood her ground despite every nerve in her body screaming at her to run.  The sea captain had laughed at her; called it a suicide mission claimed her gold was just as good as any, but still refused to take payment for the return voyage.  Belle understood now.  The mere presence of a human, especially one alone and desperate on a moonlit night, would be enough to draw attention to herself, just not necessarily the attention she wanted.  

Still the creatures stopped several body lengths away from her.  They were close enough that she could see the sharp swordlike point extending from the tips of their heads, but not close enough to make out their faces.

Belle clutched the cup tighter to her chest.  Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.  

"I'm looking for Rumplestiltskin."  

She wasn't sure if they understood her.  Still one swam closer to her and Belle's heart picked up.  "Rumple," she allowed herself to whisper.  

But as it grew closer she could tell it was not.  The women, if you could call this Adaro a woman, had long dark brown hair that seemed matted against the small grey scales of her skin.  It's twisted expression allowed Belle to see the large fangs bared menacingly at her, head tilted downward so she could strike Belle's chest.  

This had been a fool's errand, and now it was going to be all over.  Belle squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for impact.  A part of her hoped that she had been thoroughly wrong and just in denial about Rumple's death. Because if he was actually dead, she'd merely be joining him, instead of leaving him cursed and lost somewhere by himself.  She heard what she could only describe as a snarl and knew that one way or another she was about to find out.  Hopefully, it would be a quick death, a painless one.  

But the blow she expected never came.  Belle opened her eyes a sliver to see exactly what was taking so long.  

Another Adaro had joined the first.  They were fighting, heavy tails thrashing around the shallow water, heads turning this way and that to use their swords.  

It was with a whine that the black haired Adaro conceded, fleeing back into the small circle.  With its opponent gone, Belle was able to get a closer look at her savior.  

His hair was shaggy and brown, the ends curling from the salt water.  He peered at her with deep brown eyes that she would recognize anywhere.  

"Rumple!" she wanted to throw her arms around the creature that was also her husband, but he shrunk back from her.  

He didn't remember, couldn't remember in this form.  Still she had hope.  He was closer than he'd been in months, even if he didn't recognize her.  Belle dipped the chipped cup in the water, filling it to the brim before dumping it over her outstretched hand.  

His eyes seemed to light up at the cup, although it might just be because it was something new and unfamiliar.   He offered her his own scaled hand and did not pull away when she clasped it.  

Staring with determination at their interwoven fingers, Belle dipped their cup into the water once again and poured it over them.  She felt his grip tighten for a second, before he pulled away.   As soon as his hand left hers, she wanted to scream.  They were so close.  He couldn't leave now.  

But soon Belle felt him nuzzling up against her side, almost as if he couldn't get enough of her.  

This time she was the one to pull away and a small smile broke out at his whining.  But she had only pulled him off his position plastered at her side so she could face him.  

"I don't know exactly what is going to happen Rumple.  I know before you needed your curse to find your son, and he needs help finding his.  But please,” Belle bit her lip. "I don't even know if you can understand me, but let my kiss you.  Let me at least break this one.  Come back to me Rumple."  

She leaned forward and although he didn't pull away, it wasn't exactly the great reunion kiss she'd been hoping for. He was stiff as a board at first, his webbed fingers plastered to his side.  But even as she watched, as the grey scales melted into flesh, he grew bolder, pulling her closer and running his fingers through her hair.  Belle could feel the tears running down her face, but she didn't stop kissing him, didn't pull away until she absolutely had to.  

Gasping for air, she could only stare at her love and try to enjoy the feeling of all the places where his very human body was pressed up against hers.  

"You saved me."  His face was so full of awe she almost giggled.  

"Of course I did.  I couldn't very well live my happily ever after without you."  

He pulled her in close once again, running his hands down her body, affirming that she was here, that she was real.  He could feel her shivering and placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her out of the water.  

"And that's exactly what we're going to do, just as soon as we get you into something dry."  

Belle gave him a slightly disapproving look.  Her soaked white chemise was nothing compared to the fact that his transformation had left him completely naked.  "I thought you didn't believe villains got happy endings."  

Rumplestiltskin gave a dark chuckle at that.  "Let's just say I'm not about to stand in the way of the happy ending of the bravest hero I've ever known, and if she just so happens to be in love with a beast-"

"Madly, madly in love with the beast" Her cheeky grin betrayed the fact that just this once she wasn't going to argue with him over calling himself a beast.

"If she just so happens to be madly in love with a beast, I see no reason to deprive her."   Rumplestiltskin kissed her, nearly making her fall onto the sandy shore with the force, but catching her.  

"Good.  Because my happy ending only works if your get yours too."  

"Anything for you sweetheart."  

[maydaymenagerie]

Rumbelle+ May Day Menagerie: The Finish Line

So in the chaos of trying to find another job (or jobs) for the 2018/2019 school year, I completely forgot to keep checking in with the participants...

Umm, tomorrow's the due date. You can start posting at midnight (your time) tonight if you would like to do so. I am hoping that everybody can make their posting on May 1st in celebration of May Day however if you do require more time, please get in contact with you giftee as well as us moderators so that we don't panic about lost Zoo Keepers.

Please remember to @ and tag your giftee and if you could @ or tag this blog that would be great. We are hoping to have the full master list posted within the month of May, depending upon if we have delayed postings. A partial master list will be available starting tomorrow evening when I get back from work.

Thank you to all the participants!!

[justanoutlawfic]

Put Your Faith In What You Most Believe In: 3/3

Summary: When Rumpelstiltskin makes a deal with known hunter William Clayton, Belle fears for herself and her kind.

Also on AO3

Belle followed Rumpelstiltskin down the path towards Clayton’s manor. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of the other creatures whining and being tortured. She shut her eyes and stopped for a moment. Being a wolf was both a blessing and a curse. Her senses were always heightened and in that moment, it included her hearing. Rumpelstiltskin put an arm around her.

“We’re going to free them,” he promised.

“How can you hear that?”

“Dark One magic. Now, come on.” He kissed the side of her head. “Let’s go free these animals.”

 As planned, when they reached Clayton’s manor, Belle transformed into a wolf. Rumpelstiltskin put a collar on her and tied a rope to it, giving her a sympathetic smile to let her know it wouldn’t be for long. Dropping all formalities, he walked straight into Clayton’s, calling out his name. The man appeared a few moments later, a smirk on his face.

 “Well, well, well, looks like you actually managed to do it,” he said.

“I’m a man of my word, now you be a man of your own.”

Clayton shook his head. “Hand over the beast and then you’ll get what you so desire.”

“How do I know that the minute I give her to you, that you won’t destroy the bean?” Rumpelstiltskin took a few steps forward. “I’m not stupid, dearie.”

“Very well.” Clayton reached into his pocket and held out the bean. “Now, the beast.”

 They were going to go along with things as planned…until Clayton reached into his other pocket and pulled out some ink, coating the top of the blade. Rumpelstiltskin took a step back, pulling Belle back along with him.

 “Is that what I think it is?”

“I told you, Dark One, I’m a collector of all creatures and that includes…you.”

 Rumpelstiltskin reached up his hands to use his magic, but at the same time, Clayton had a knife to the wolf’s neck. In the amount of time it took him to zap, he would have Belle’s life. So, he slowly lowered his hands and allowed the coated knife to hit his skin. He fell to the floor, paralyzed in shock.

 Belle rushed to his side, still in wolf form and nudged her nose against his face. She wasn’t sure how long the ink would last, but she knew there was no way in hell she was about to let him become Clayton’s next victim. As Clayton grabbed onto her, ready to drag her away, she let out a loud howl.

 “No one can save you now, wolfie,” Clayton sneered. “Now, let’s see what you’re really made of. Then, we’ll take care of your little friend, next.”

 Belle looked behind at her wounded lover as Clayton dragged her off into the next room. She looked around and saw the source of all of the ruckus. There were dozens of creatures locked in cages, from a dragon to a griffin, even a unicorn was trapped in a larger one than the rest

 Roughly grabbing hold of her neck, Clayton threw her on top of the hard oak table. She let out a whine and attempted to bite him, but he slid a muzzle over her mouth. Turning to his rack of tools, Belle began to feel her heart race.

 Until she heard the sound of thundering, but it wasn’t coming from the sky. She heard the front door burst open and a moment later, so did the door to the examination room. If Belle could’ve, she would’ve smiled. The entire pack was there. Clayton turned to them and his face turned pale. Even he knew, he was no match for them. To give him credit, he tried. He grabbed hold of a sword, but they attacked.

 One transformed into a human and she saw Red, who found Clayton’s keys and undid the muzzle. Belle turned back into her other half and jumped off the bed, leaving her family to do the work. She knew they would free the rest of the creatures in a moment, but she had to check on Rumpelstiltskin.

 Running as fast as her feet could carry her, she reached the main room again and dropped in front of him. His eyes were shut and she felt the fear seep into her veins. She leaned in, kissing his lips. A rainbow ripple overcame them and his eyes flickered open once more. He smiled, putting a hand on her cheek.

 “Belle,” he whispered.

“You’re okay.” She let out a deep breath. “Thank God.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

“It’s okay. I went with Plan B.” She kissed him once more. “Come on, my family has Clayton handled. Let’s free these creatures.”

 Anita took charge and made sure what was left of Clayton’s body was handled. Rumpelstiltskin used his magic to unlock each and every cage, sending the creatures back into their homes. He watched as Belle leaned into Red, chatting with her about everything and knew what he had to do.

 “Well,” he said. “It seems like I’ve gotten my bean after all. Which means, I won’t need anyone to clean up my castle anymore.”

Belle paused. “I suppose not.”

“You’re free to go.”

“Are you going to take the bean to find your son?”

“Of course I am.”

Belle looked from Red to back to the man she had fallen for. “Then, I’ll come with you.”

“Belle…”

“I don’t want to be apart from you, Rumple. I…I love you.”

 Rumpelstiltskin’s mouth dropped open and she closed the gap between them, pressing a kiss to his cheek, taking hold of his hands. A slow smile formed across his face.

 “I love you too,” he mumbled.

“Well then. What do you say, we go find Baelfire together?”

“I would like nothing more.”

 After saying goodbye to her family (and promising that someday they would return), Belle and Rumpelstiltskin headed outside. He held the bean in his fingers, looking at it with great intent.

 “So,” Belle said. “How does this work?”

“I just have to think of Baelfire and it will bring me to him.”

“Then, what are you waiting for?”

 He smiled at her and gave her one more kiss before shutting his eyes and thinking hard. He threw the bean into the ground and when his eyes flickered open once more, there was an open portal in front of them. Lacing his fingers through Belle, they jumped through it together, ready for whatever the land without magic might bring.

 The End

[lotus0kid]

OUaT/HM: Àillte

AO3 link.  Hamish meets a Fae creature while on the moors. Adventure quickly ensues. ((Man, I’ve had this fic in my head for years. So big thanks to the May Day Menagerie and my recipient @wierdogal for letting me finally get it out.  FYI, I used this site for my Scottish Gaelic. Translations can be found in the author’s notes at the end of the last chapter.))

Also, a small attempt at art, beneath the cut.

[zookeeperforavatoh]

Hi @avatoh!

You’ll be very pleased to know that your gift is underway. Progress is slow at the moment writing-wise, but the story is fully plotted out and planned so I know where I’m going with it. Once I’ve got some more done on the story, I can start giving you some sneak previews! 

I hope you’re having a good week!

[gwenore]

Revenge of the Werecat.

Hi, @little-inkstone finally it is the 1st of May. I have really loved talking and getting to know you over these weeks... even if tumblr has eaten quite the amount of messages... and it is still a miracle that I have not forgotten to put on the annon button... though I felt that I had several times... 

I really hope you like this little fic. I also threw a werelizard in there, but... hopefully you do not mind. 

Synopsis: Gold works for a institution which research the outbreak of a strange new illness which seem to turn people feral and become animalistic and is put in charge of a feline-like woman who was named Belle French before her infection.

Written for @maydaymenagerie exchange. 

Mr. Gold was sitting at his desk in the observation room which had now been made into his makeshift office as he was ordered to keep a certain… creature under observation.

The Organization who had recruited… or forced him at gun point would be more accurate… to help with finding a cure for this new illness.

How it had started no one knew… most suspected a sort of genetic experiment gone wrong, though that description was a shot in the dark and too general to be of any use. Though all agreed it did not seem natural.

All they knew is that when the infection would enter the bloodstream of a victim, cell death would speed up at an insane rate with then new cells being created but these… were different. The cells were different… altered.

This caused a myriad of different mutations depending on the strain that the person was infected with.

One had commented it was as if the victims were turned into animals, as it would certainly seem that way from the symptoms. Rapports of people growing fur and scales… claws and fags, even hooves and tails…

To Gold it would have been hilarious had it not been actually happening.

These infected did also seem to get a more feral mindset seemingly loosing the ability to speak and act rationally. Most also became greatly aggressive, biting and clawing everyone not infected.

What was most terrifying about this new illness was how easy it was to contract it. While not airborne, any contact with infected blood in an open wound or any of the mucus membranes seemed to be enough to contract the disease. This with those infected more aggressive state made it spread extremely quickly.

Among the people these were known as were-creatures, or with the species that they had started to look like. Some did not think it was a disease at all, claiming it was magic.

Gold let out a scoff thinking of that. There was no such thing as magic.

Most of these infected were simply shot on sight, their bodies burned and disposed of. However if caught in the early stages of the process were brought to this facility to be studied. There were not many they took alive.

The one in the glass cage in his makeshift office was one of them.

Her name was… or had been… Belle French, a librarian if her file was correct.

She was now glaring at him with narrow pupils as her pointed furred ears laid back against her head. Having been stripped of her clothes she was holding the blanket around her body… a sign that she still had a sense of modesty, even as brown fur was now covering most of her body.

She had grown a tail seemingly just before she came to them, now curled around her, the claws on her feet and hands constantly barred, as was her sharpened teeth.

As far as Gold knew she had lost the ability to talk, though it was undeniable intelligence behind those blue cat-like eyes of hers.

Most in the facility that knew of her simply referred to her as the werecat… which… he could not deny there was certain reason for calling her that, even if he disliked it. It was as if it was robbing her of the little humanity she had left.

Talk also revolved around her beauty to which… well… he could also see that.

Even now, sipping from the whiskey that he had smuggled in for his over night shift he could not deny that she was indeed… beautiful. How tragic that something would have befallen someone like her. She was young… beautiful… with her whole life ahead of her…

And now she had been reduced to an animal in a cage. It would have been funny had it not been so tragic.

He sighed.

He did not know what would happen to her when they had gotten all the answers that they could get from her. It was not his place to care.

It was clear she hated him… he could not blame her.

“Another night just you and me huh dearie?” he asked her with a light chuckle in his voice as he lifted his glass towards her in a mock toast. The feline-like woman hissed towards him.

“I feel the same way, kitten,” he murmured at her as he picked up his book in order to read some, but quickly lost interest and tossed it on the table… or it was meaning to hit the table. What really happened was that he misjudged the throw and it slid off the table and towards the glass wall.

Mr. Gold shrugged. He was going to pick it up later.

Drinking down his glass he noticed some movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing over he saw her move close to the glass wall, still covering her body from him, but her slit eyes were looking curiously at the book. He cocked his head.

“What… you want to read it?” he mused only met with another hiss. Swallowing down the remains of his drink he stood up, taking the cane for his bad leg he moved over, picking up the book and then pulled out her feeding tray.

Mistrust was glowing in her eyes as he pushed it through.

“Well… it is not like you have to read it,” he chuckled as he moved away, pretending to not care as he sat himself down again and poured himself another drink.

Glancing over his shoulder he then saw her slowly moving towards the push tray, picking up the book and gently caressing it in her clawed hands. Slowly drinking it down, he did not mind the burning in his throat… he was used to it by now.

With a loud sigh he stood up and moved towards the research desk, which forced him to put his back towards her. He never liked to do that, but he had to check on the blood samples… which was always nerve wrecking work.

Perhaps drinking was unwise, but… he found it helped him steady his hands… or… that was what he told himself.

After he had checked everything was alright with the blood samples, noting in the journal that nothing had really changed.

Slowly he turned towards her again, looking curiously as it seemed like the feline looking woman had started to read. This puzzled him… did she retain her ability to read? That was a surprise…

She had seemed rather… intelligent… he had to admit that. There was an intelligence within those blue eyes… or that was what he imagined…

He simply shrugged, rubbing the ridge of his nose groaning slightly. He hated being in this place… it could burn to the ground for all he cared. But with the not so unreal gun being put to his head… there was very little that he could do about the matter.

Mr. Gold was a man who had several regrets in his life… and this… getting himself into this mess… it did not even register…

At least the bottle of whiskey would take his mind of things until he could go home in the morning… only to be forced back a couple of hours later…

With these thoughts in mind he poured himself another glass, this one nearly to the brim.

“Cheers dearie,” he lifted his glass to his feline companion, though this time the expected hissing did not come, instead the creature hardly looked up from the book he had handed her.

“Fine… now I don’t have the pleasant distraction of our delightful conversations,” he chuckled slightly as he continued to swallow down his drink, not noting the scowl she gave him over the ridge of the book.

  The night progressed as normal, Mr. Gold having to admit that he had been too much liberal with his smuggled in whiskey and was having to sit struggling to suppress his inebriation, continuing to rub the ridge of his nose.

The timer then went of to let him know that he was having to check on the samples again. He let out a loud groan, it was the last thing he wanted to do, but… he knew well enough that those who were found lacking in their work were… demoted…

To the state of experimental subjects.

It was a fate that he would rather avoid.

He was feeling strangely nervous his heart pounding within his chest. It was as if he had a foreboding feeling and that something was not quite… right…

As he was considering a vial… having to fight his inebriation to do his work. He hold it firmly, not daring to think much about what were going to happen if he were to drop it.

The sound of the alarm was seemingly shaking through the compound for a minute just before it was left in darkness one moment before the red warning lights were turned on.

The pain of class piercing the palm of his hand was pure agony and he would have let out an ear piercing scream had not the overwhelming fear which paralyzed his vocal cords left him unable to even let out even a whimper.

As the blaring of the siren died down he heard his office door locked shut while the door the infected woman’s cell opened and he was at her mercy.

  Gold covered into the corner, staring with terror in his eyes as the so called werecat walked out of her cell. His blood was dripping onto the floor, the pain so great that he felt that his hand was shaking, but… he did not dare to look away.

Desperately and terrified a thought entered his mind.

This wasn’t an accident.

He was certain that this was not an accident.

Why would the cell door open if it was an true emergency?

Someone wanted him dead… or far worse than death. They wanted him alive, but wanted him to loose everything. His freedom, his family and even his mind which he had taken such pride in.

He closed his eyes then. He did not wish to see his end coming.

Feeling her close to him, he let out a slight nervous whimper, trying not to show how terrified that he really was.

To his surprise she did not dig into him with her sharp claws and teeth, instead she knelt down by his side and gently reached out and petted his hair comfortingly.

“We… we need to get out…” she whispered to him. He looked at her confused wondering just what she had said… had he… had he really heard her speak.

“What…?” his voice was shivering.

“We need to get out,” she repeated towards him. “They are going to do bad things to us.”

He could not believe what was happening.

“Wait… us?” he repeated. She glanced down at his hand, his eyes following and saw the glass poking out of his hand.

“We are the same now… you are infected,” he could hear that her speaking was strained, but it was at least understandable.

Still looking at his bleeding hand he knew that the content of the vial had mixed with his own. He tried to make an excuse… that he might have escaped contamination… but he could not believe himself to make him believe his own lie.

He whimpered, looking up at her, his eyes filled with tears and pleading.

“What is… what is going to happen to me?” he whimpered towards her. She blinked her eyes gently, a strange compassion in her animalistic eyes.

“You are going to change… after that… you know what is going to happen if they catch you,” she said. He knew well what was going to happen… he had seen it so many times. It was just a bit different when it was him on the line.

Slowly he got himself up to his feet, his hand shivering, trying to keep his mind collected. He tried to think about how to get out of this place… but… he was coming up with nothing. The walls were reinforced… the door was steel… no windows.

Call for help? Hah… that thought was laughable. His so called colleagues had trapped him in here and even if not all of them were in on it he would not know who he could trust.

Watching his blood and the shattered glass washing down into the sink he simply lowered ihis head.

“There is no way out…” he muttered.

“What…?” she asked shivering. “You must know a way out, you work here! I have seen you come and go several times!”

He simply chuckled at her insistence as he was shaking his head.

“No… I am actually just as trapped as you are kitten. You don’t think I want to be here do you? They threatened to take everything from me…” he let out another desperate chuckle, the amount of alcohol making him just find it funny. It might be just a fit of insanity… but if anything could excuse a man going mad… the night that Mr. Gold had been having would qualify.

“And now they have!” his low chuckle had now turned into a near desperate giggling.

He watched over at the feline woman as her pointed ears were laid back, that small blanket hardly covering her form as he bandaged his hand out of habit. Her cat-like eyes were welling up with tears.

“So… this is it then…” she murmured. He nodded.

“That would be my guess,” he shrugged, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“What are… what are we going to do?” she looked nervously over at him.

“Get drunk?” Mr. Gold shrugged his shoulders, earning him a glare of the feline woman, her tail flicking slightly. He simply cocked his head slightly.

“Don’t judge me, kitten, if we are going to be put down tomorrow… not to mention that until then… it is not going to be pleasant until then, and as I cannot remember what strain was in the vial, it is also going to be a surprise… so fun times,” his voice was filled with desperation though what could only be seen as insane chuckles.

“I guess… I guess that getting drunk is not going to do anything bad at this point,” she admitted. A silence fell between them as they sat themselves against the wall where they could watch the door. Gold grabbed around his whiskey and swallowed down, before grabbing it, handing it towards her, her taking it slowly, swallowing softly, before starting to cough, something that earned her a chuckle from the scientist.

She scowled at him ever so slightly before she handed it back for him to take him a drink. After he swallowed he put it down there was a silence falling between them.

“Is it going to hurt?”

He was not even aware that he had asked the question. Belle looked over at him and blinked her eyes softly, before giving him a soft nod.

“Yes… it is going to hurt a lot,” she then said. He blinked and nodded, thinking for a while.

“So… why did you not speak before now?” he asked with a wonder in her eyes. She shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly.

“I thought it wouldn’t be safe…” she then said. “It would be too dangerous… to let you know… I was not like… everyone else.”

“Wise choice,” Gold simply stated and with her sharp eyes she could see sweat start to appear on his forehead and his breathing was heavier.

Even his smell was different… muskier… more bestial.

It was exciting to her, making him unwittingly move closer to him.

“Do you… do you feel it?” Belle asked leaning over to him.

“I… I do…” he was panting softly as he looked down at his hand to see scales spreading across his hand.

“Scales…?” Belle pondered ever so slightly as she curiously stroked along them. The feeling of her fingers against the scales which was spreading rapidly… feeling like pins and needles across his skins… it was making him feel… warm.

He was unable to answer her, heavily breathing as his lips parted as she saw his teeth became sharp like that of a large predator. As he looked into her eyes, she saw his pupil narrow much like her own and the color turned from a warm brown into a golden yellow.

A slight fear went through her body as he reached out his own hand and touched her shoulder, leaning closer as long sharp claws burst out of his fingers. She knew well that most having turned would become feral and attack.

But his touch was not painful… it was gentle.

The look in his now reptilian eyes were that of fear and confusion. She was not certain that he was really knowing what he was doing, but there was no viciousness. Slowly she reached up her own clawed hand and touched his cheek.

“Just breathe,” she whispered to him, leaning closer and leaned her forehead against his own.

“You… you went through this…?” he gritted his teeth as he panted.

“Yes…” she buried her face in his neck, the blanket that she wore around herself were slipping off slightly. He was smelling so good and made her move closer to him, brushing her hand through his hair.

“Does… does it hurt?” she could not keep from letting out a low purr. His hand slowly slipped from her shoulder, down her side and hip, her being so warm, her moving her body against his hand.

“It feels as I am burning…” he groaned as he lifted his eyes, and she could see them glowing. “I am so cold… but I am burning…”

He let out a moan as he continued to gasp, his clawed hand grasping around her leg as her tail were bushy, flicking. Slowly her lifted his head and kissed his lips softly.

“What are you…?” he asked confused, as her hands continuing to caress his hair, as she got up on her knees, her blanket sliding of her body. A low rumble came from Gold’s throat as he let his reptilian eyes go over her body.

She was beautiful.

His claws were caressing over her body, as her own was unbuttoning his shirt, the fur down her back standing on end.

“Don’t know… just… you smell good,” she purred softly, her hands slipping inside his shirt and caressing his chest where scales were starting to form as well.

“So do you…” his voice was a low murmur, continuing to feel her nude form under his clawed hands. Sitting up she leaned over him, straddling him as she continued to rub against his hand, desiring his touch more.

“But… but should we…? Aren’t we just giving into these… beastly instincts?” even as he spoke his hands were continuing to caress her, down the small of her back, feeling her long slender furred tail.

The feline-like woman let out a soft moan as she grinded her hips, feeling his erection against her pussy, her claws continuing to run through his hair, pulling slightly as she forced him to look into her eyes.

“If we are to die tomorrow… why fight it? Just give in… please… I need you…” Belle whispered heatedly in his ears.

He gritted his teeth before he lifted his head and their lips met, his long tongue caressing against hers, his own tongue spitting and becoming forked as it moved against her rough one. She was correct… what use was it to worry if their life was to end?

Even as changes were wrecking through his body, he found himself growing warmer… more lustful. Pushing her down under him he stood over her, her letting out a low hiss in surprise, her hands moving down, ripping open his pants, pushing it down.

A loud gasp came from his lips as he felt her touch him, her soft fingers against his heated flesh.

“You are hard…” she murmured softly in his hair, kissing his lips. He did not respond simply scraping his long sharp claws into the floor. His eyes were wide… however, his panting rough and labored.

She understood, trying to ease him as she continued to place gentle kisses on his lips. She knew the pain and fear he was going through.

“Don’t fight it… it only hurts if you fight it…” she whispered to him. He lowered his head, taking in the smell of her neck as he lapped at her skin with his long forked tongue.

Belle closed her eyes, a purr coming from her lips as her claws ran down his back, feeling his scales through his shirt.

A gasp came from her lips as she felt something brush against her side, a long scaly tail which wrapped around her own in a gentle grip.

“I… I need…” she heard him pant in her ear.

“Yes… me too…” she moaned as she spread her legs, wrapping them around his hips, welcoming him in, still holding him close to her as he was kissing her neck.

Belle let out a loud gasp of pleasure, digging her feline claws into his scaly skin as she felt him thrust inside her. She had been dealing with this heat and restlessness in her body for so long. He hardly felt the sting of her claws, overtaken with instinctual pleasure.

In that moment none of them could speak.

There was no use for such things as useless as human words. After all… they hardly could be seen as human any more.

He could only think of the pleasure and the warmth as he was certain that the room chilled to a blazing cold around him. She was beautiful… and she was warm. Desire was too weak and dull of a word to describe what he felt for her.

He wanted her. It was primal and basic.

He wanted her, he wanted her to be his.

These were the only thoughts the once brilliant scientist was able to think in this moment. His imminent death… his fate…

Oh how far that was from his thoughts. Her was all that mattered.

He trusted his hips further, wanting to feel more of her… more of her warmth.

He was so cold. So… cold.

Belle felt as if she was on fire, feeling at how he teased her with that forked tongue, flicking ever so gently over her skin as he moved within her.

She had feared him… perhaps even hated him.

But… he had shown her kindness… there had been a compassion in those dark eyes of his… if also a resignation that he could not help her… not that she could blame him… she knew also what could happen.

She had observed him for a long while, how he seemed to loathe himself more than anyone else could ever hate him. It had always made her wonder why… he was not trapped… he could leave. But… she had been mistaken.

He may not have been put in a cage… but he was no more free than she was.

A sharp trust made it harder for her to think… finally… she was getting some sort of relief…

She moved her spine along with his movements, adoring the feel of his tail wrapped around hers. Pleasure were glowing in both their slit eyes as they met, panting loudly.

Belle lifted her head as her lips met his against running her claws though his hair.

“I am… I am going to…” he groaned softly.

She was not able to answer him, simply mewling softly as she continued to grind herself against him, feeling pleasure building up within her.

His desirous moan in her ear as he came within her, his sharp teeth tickling her sensitive sharp ear with his teeth and forked tongue, causing her to giggle even in her pleasure induced stupor.

“You are beautiful…” he murmured as he kept gazing at her with his reptilian eyes. “If only… if only we could have had more than this one moment…”

She simply hushed him, hugging him close.

“Please do not speak… just hold me… please do not let me go…” she whispered softly as she refused to let him go.

He then nodded his head, resting beside her on that cold laboratory floor, their tails twinning around each other.

“I promise… I promise,” he whispered softly to her as he brought her closer, hiding his tearful eyes in her soft hair as the clock was mercilessly ticking forward to morning.

  Mr. Hopper… or Archie as most called him were running through the corridors.

Everything had gone wrong… he did not know what, but the whole place was destroyed, the creatures roaming the facility now.

“Mr. Gold!” he was pounding on the door to his laboratory, knowing that he had been locked in with one of those that were infected. “You in there?! Everything… Oh dear…”

“Mr. Hopper,” He heard the calm voice of Mr. Gold from the inside. “I am alright, but it seems the door has jammed. Can you open it?”

Archie had to admit he was astonished by how calm that Gold was able to keep in this situation, but he always had a cool head.

“Yes, yes! Just give me a moment,” he was quick to say as he pulled the override lever for the door. The moment the door opened he was pushed back towards the wall.

Pushing his glasses up on his nose he was lost of word as he looked at the fate of his colleague and the woman at his side.

“Thank you Archie… I knew I could count on you,” the reptilian creature grinned as he and the feline woman ran away in the midst of the chaos, far away from those that would wish to capture them.

[anonnynerdgirls-zoo]

Urban Zoo - A May Day Menagerie fic for the marvellous annonymousnerdgirl

Chapter One It was her, it had to be her. No one else could possibly have eyes that blue or be so impossibly wee and darn sexy. Plus she had the killer heels, her head buried in a book and the same cute quizzical look on her face. To confirm his suspicions Wee Jock was also responding vigorously at the sight of her, he had always known when she had been about springing up like a guard dog ready for action. Not that there had ever been any chance of that then or now. Andrew Noston peered again over the top of his copy of Macbeth. He was going to have to find another place to study. It was difficult enough not to get distracted from deciphering Shakespeare without this apparition before him. That’s right it was a ghost, like the play, his mind had conjured up this spirit. Belle had been his inspiration, his guardian angel, his reason to hope, and now when he was so close to his dream of getting an actual qualification he had summoned her. It must be because he was so tired, too much studying, too many late shifts, too many sleepless nights, that’s what it had to be – a ghost. A ghost from the past that had led him to the future and Christ his head was buzzing with literary illusions and wouldn’t the real Belle have smiled and waved her hands and been so happy at the change in him. And oh no he must have been staring at her and now she was looking directly at him, head cocked to the side, a puzzled look on her oh so beautiful face. But feck oh feck feck feckity feck she was tottering over to him and mouthing the name that he hoped he would never hear again. “Nosty? Nosty is that you?” “Erm..Andrew Noston, actually, miss, Access student at the college here, studying for exams miss”. Oh shite he was babbling like a small idiot child and had he lied or not, he wasn’t quite sure and what was with all this “miss” business? Oh feck, she was pulling out the seat next to him now, Wee Jock was out of control at the closeness. “Oh, Nost..Mr Noston I’m so pleased” and then she whispered “honestly I won’t say a thing” and then getting louder and louder “But you can’t imagine how happy I am to see you and to hear that news, and oh, and I`m waving my hands again and I had been trying so hard not to since you used to ‘take the Mickey out of me’ all those years ago. How many?” Andrew was truly gobsmacked, his thigh was so close to touching hers, and those eyes were mesmerizing, he could not help but answer like he was enchanted to tell everything and only the truth. “It was seven years ago that I last saw you in the library at Belmarsh prison, you said that I could do it, to stop pretending that I didn’t give a shit, to just grab any chance even if it was like grasping a snake when you were drowning in a river, and to stop sneering at my book and to read it and see that I was Johnathan Livingston seagull and that I could fly high in the sky and that …” Belle stopped his gabbling with a delicate finger and pressed to his lip. It was soft, smooth and he could feel her pulse throbbing away. He might be melting. They were both full on staring at each other now and he could not pull his eyes away, until she sighed and said, “I’m annoyed you have cut you hair, I loved those locks and now I will never be able to touch and tug on them”. She then blushed and stood up quickly and tip-tapped away with only a brief look back at him and was that a wink?

[thestraggletag]

Still Waters, a May Day Menagerie Fic

Giftee: @little-inkstone

Prompt: Rumbelle + aquatic creature (I chose a Kelpie)

Summary: There’s a horse at the Mills Stables, a bony, pitiful creature with sad eyes Belle cannot help but feel drawn to. Coincidentally she feels the same way about Mr Gold, whose eyes are also melancholic, and the same startling hazel shade.

Rating: M for sex and gore.

AN: Surprise, @little-inkstone! Though you must have figured it out it is I, your... secret Zookeeper! I hope you enjoy this story. The ending fought be like a bitch, but I managed to subdue it. Sorry for the lateness of the delivery!

Tagging @maydaymenagerie for reasons.

Belle knew she was lucky. She was hardly the first person to even have to take up a second job because her first one wasn't enough to pay the bills. At least she loved both her jobs. She had always wanted to be a librarian, had always wanted to work surrounded by books. But she also loved horses, both passions inherited from her mother, so it wasn't hard for her to sacrifice her weekends and her free afternoons to work as a stable hand at the one local stable, owned by Henry Mills. As far as she knew horse-raising wasn't what accounted for the family's lavish lifestyle, but rather an exorbitant hobby, a status symbol. Cora Mills, who rumour had it had come from nothing, was an adept social climber and considered horse-riding something his daughter, Regina, needed to learn to earn her place in society. It also appeared to have the bonus of keeping the girl happy, which in turn made her less likely to fight her mother when she made decisions of her.

Belle wasn't very interested in the details, or in having anything at all to do with the Mills. But the pay was good, her boss, Daniel, was nice, and being near horses again- she hadn't had much contact with horses ever since they'd left Australia- felt good, even if the work was hard and the demands high. Daniel ran a tight ship but was kind and had a real love for the animals, which Belle was grateful for. The horses were well-kept and well-behaved, always closely monitored by the vet, specially the two polo ponies, one American and the other Argentinian. Belle took to both of them immediately, given their gentle nature. She particularly enjoyed braiding their tails before a game, since she felt both horses enjoyed the pampering.

Besides the polo ponies and two show jumpers there was a thoroughbred called Rocinante, a gorgeous chestnut that Regina Mills herself was personally training for dressage, and some older horses kept mostly for breeding. At the back, though, almost hidden away, was a box stall she hadn't noticed at first. It was unkempt, since no one seemed to be in charge of cleaning it, and housed a rather strange horse. Average in size but powerfully built, though too thin to appear healthy. It was black, with the strangest whiskey-coloured eyes she'd ever seen on a horse, and a long, matted mane. He looked close to emaciated but when she took her concerns to Daniel he surprisingly shrugged her off.

"I felt the same when I started out here, and it still doesn't sit well with me that we aren't allowed to care for the horse, but I can guarantee you the bastard's not gonna die. He's looked pretty much that way for years. Hell, I'm not even sure how old it is, but it's probably the oldest horse any of us has ever seen. It's strange, but I don't question it. Mrs Mills takes care of him herself, or so she says. Can't say I've seen her around here much, but the old boy's being kept alive somehow. And he's got enough strength to be a pain in the ass."

The horse had a foul temper, and was prone to acts of malice, though it seemed incongruous to describe a horse's actions in such a way. He wasn't just violent, there was a sort of rationality to his thinking that unnerved her. He wasn't simply destructive or ill-behaved, there was a level of cunning to his actions, something Belle couldn't quite put into words.

And as much as that did terrify her, it wasn't enough to diminish the pity she felt for the creature, malnourished and unloved as he was. He cut a pathetic figure most of the time, listless and isolated, his ribs prominent and most of his neck and muzzle covered by his matted hair. His eyes reflected a sort of sadness that made her think of when she'd lost her mom to cancer and her dad had retreated into himself, unable to cope. It'd damaged their relationship forever and had filled her with a deep-seated loneliness she had never quite managed to shake off. The horse had the same look she'd seen in the mirror often back then, and could still see now, sometimes.

It was that what made her reach out, at first with small bits of food. Though some horses, like the two polo ponies, were under a strict diet, she was allowed to give others small snacks, mostly apples- the Mills had an orchard, which made them plentiful around the stables. She tried at first to tentatively feed the stallion pieces of apple from her hand, but he reared back, often hitting the door of the stall, exactly where she leaned against. Though the floor of his stall was mucky and the straw dirty she had no choice but to drop the apple slices, hoping he'd eat them out of the floor if he refused to do so out of her hand. Though he never touched the red apples the horse did devour the green apple slices, which Belle counted as her first win.

Sometimes the stallion was out of the stables. Daniel told her Mrs Mills would sometimes fetch him early in the morning to let him out for a bit, though he was never out in the paddock. Apparently, due to his hostility, he was taken to some other paddock deep in the Mill's property, where Belle hoped he could at least enjoy some fresh air and graze. The stable was calmer in his absence, most of the horses seeming to relax visibly without him there. They were all docile animals, used to the company of each other and the presence of strange horses when they were taken to competitions or matches. But, for some reason, they were terrified of the old stallion, often cowering in a corner of their stalls whenever he'd pitch a fit for some perceived slight or the other.

It was during one of those quiet days that Belle first saw Mr Gold. She'd heard of him before, both in Storybrooke and around the stable, but even though lots of people had mentioned him to her she soon realised there was little that people actually knew about the man. Everyone spoke about him as if he'd always lived in Storybrooke, but his distinctive Scottish accent indicated he must have moved in at some point, though no one remembered, not even Granny, who'd lived all her life in the small town.

His vague origins added an extra layer of mystery to an already mysterious man. His accent wasn't the only thing to set him apart, his three-piece suits, long hair and cane also helped make him unique amongst the usual small-town dwellers. He was soft-spoken but there was an undercurrent of menace to him, something that made it easy for Belle to believe he was as dangerous as rumour had it. Whenever she saw him it was usually from a distance, Mrs Mills draped around one of his arms in a rather possessive way. He was an impeccable, impenetrable figure next to her, usually sneering, looking supremely bored.

She'd thought he had him all figured out at first. Someone nasty, like Cora was, likely amoral since it was pretty clear he was carrying on with Mrs Mill behind Mr Mills’ back, unfeeling and greedy. He owned most of Storybrooke, including the land the Mills used as their own, and was known for being unforgiving when it came to the rent or his deals. Whenever he was out with Mrs Mills he acted as if everyone was beneath his notice, as if he barely noticed people. What made Belle the most uneasy, though, was how the horses acted around him. If he approached any of their stalls they'd get strangely nervous and fidgety, and if he remained nearby they'd have to be removed, lest they hurt themselves. Belle was a firm believer in horses’ ability to judge character, which added to Mr Gold's dangerous aura.

But almost against her will she began to see another side of him, the more she randomly ran into him. She didn't know exactly when that started happening, but she couldn't say she was particularly displeased. For all his nefarious reputation and shady relationship to her boss Mr Gold was cultured and sharp, with the sort of dark sense of humour she preferred. And he was, for the most part, all bark and no bite, at least with her and specially once she began laughing at his darker remarks.

He was a lonely soul, she soon discovered, which perhaps accounted for why he intrigued her so. She was lonely too, after all, no longer a stranger new to Storybrooke like she'd been years ago but still a bit of an outsider. The horses helped, which meant she quickly got into the habit of taking a book with her to the stables and reading during breaks or once she was off the clock. She'd wander around the forested area surrounding the Mill's property- well, Gold's, apparently- and pick a spot to sit down and read. Mr Gold came across her sporadically, at first, still pristine-looking in his pressed suits and shined shoes even in the middle of the woods, but soon it became a ritual of sorts. Somehow, for whatever reason, she'd bump into Gold at least once a week, but oftentimes more, and they'd trade quips and sometimes talk about the book she was reading.

She discovered Mr Gold was extremely well-versed in classic literature, even obscure titles she had been pretty sure no one else had heard of in boring little Storybrooke. Of modern literature, however, he had no idea, so she got into the habit of loudly telling him when she'd leave a book in the stables instead of taking it home. He'd use a piece of braided leather to mark his spot, a sort of faded strip that seemed ancient and smelt faintly of something water-y. For some reason instinct told her not to tell anyone, to hide away her small interactions with Mr Gold away in the woods, save from the eyes and ears of Mrs Mills. She even made sure to keep her encounters from Daniel, who was, thankfully, a little too distracted with Regina Mills to notice anything.

It was around the time she began to low-key share her books with Gold that she made progress with the stallion, being able to approach his stall without him slamming the door in warning and feeding him apples from the palm of her hand. Up close the horse was even more imposing and pathetic at the same time, with protruding ribs, sunken eyes and what appeared to be a big iron ring on his right back leg. The skin around the ring looked red and angry, and the horse did not completely rest the hoof on the floor, as if it'd pain him to do so. When she mentioned wanting to remove it to Daniel, however, he told her not to bother.

"I took the issue up with Mrs Mills years ago, she told me on no uncertain terms that I was not to remove the ring. Of course, I tried to anyway, thing looks rusted over and like it's causing a considerable amount of pain, but was unable to. Believe me, I tried every which way. Thing just wouldn't budge. Horse seems fine with it, other than the limp, no infections or anything like that, so I just live it alone. I know it feels wrong, but there's nothing you can do."

Cora Mills wasn't a horsewoman. She could barely tolerate the stench and feel of the stables, and didn't go near any of the many horses kept there. Yet she seemed almost obsessed with the old stallion, and guarded him jealously, while at the same time doing little in the way of grooming or caring for it, to the point that oftentimes Belle would spend close to an hour finger-combing the horse's mane, removing brittle pieces of greenery and undoing what felt like ages-old knots. The horse would nuzzle against her hands in gratitude, some spark of something returning to his dull eyes. Whatever Mrs Mills did in the stables at night- Daniel had warned her against working late, telling her it was strictly forbidden- when she was supposed to be taking care of the animal was a mystery to her, because it was plain as day that there was no actual caring taking place, the neglect etched into every visible part of the animal.

That particular mystery was revealed to her one night, when she discovered she'd forgotten her keys back at the Mills’ and rushed to the stables to get them. The employee's changing rooms- Mrs Mills was a stickler for cleanliness and would not allow any of the stable hands anywhere close to her own home- where right next to the stables, which was how she was able to hear the strange thumping sounds. Hoping to be able to catch Mrs Mills actually abusing the stallion, anything concrete that would allow her to get the attention of someone other than the Sheriff's department, that would not take her animal abuse claims seriously- she crept close to the doors of the stable and pried one open just enough to see inside. The moon was full, providing enough light to see into the stables. She noticed right away that one of the wide wooden benches, which were usually kept on the very back, covered by horse blankets and an assortment of grooming supplies and bridles and saddles taken from their perch to be cleaned or delivered back to the tack room at a later time had been moved to the middle of the stables, covered by a bright red horse blanket she'd never seen anyone use, the sort of thing that seemed too luxurious and delicate to throw over an animal. There was someone lying on the bench, stark-naked, arms grasping the sides of it. She recognised the silver-streaked soft brown hair and the crooked nose before she even became aware of the other person in the room, sitting astride the first body, moving in an unmistakable fashion. Even without seeing her face there was no mistaken that auburn-tinted hair, nor those blood-red nails, digging painfully into the skin of the prone figure. It was Cora Mills, completely naked as well, looking like the years had been more than kind to her. It wasn't Mr Mills bellow her, perhaps indulging some fetish or secret pleasure of his wife, but Mr Gold. His eyes were closed, head thrown back and an expression the hovered between disgust and bliss on his usually blank face. He had scratches on his side, blood looking black as it seemed from them, and yet he was making no move to pull Cora's claws away from his exposed flesh, nor did he do anything to stop her as she rode him mercilessly.

She took a couple of steps back, almost forgetting to stay quiet. There was a nauseous sense of betrayal threatening to choke her, though she knew she had no right to it. If there was someone who was deserving of such a feeling was poor Mr Mills, kind as a lamb and likely completely unaware of the sordid little arrangement, tucked into bed thinking his wife might be revising some contracts or perhaps taking a long hot bath. And though she liked Mr Mills, liked his kind eyes, his even kinder words and the affection with which he showered his one and only daughter, Belle couldn't say she felt betrayed in his name. Whatever she was feeling was personal, in a way she had no right to. Underneath it, though, there was something else, a sense of wrongness that had nothing to do with what she might have thought was growing between herself and the older man. Something that disturbed her and she couldn't quite pinpoint how or why.

Cora's shrill cries of pleasure turned her attention almost in spite of herself back to the inside of the stables. Unable to look elsewhere her eyes became glued to Mr Gold's face, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. Finally, he tipped his head back, lips parting to soundlessly whisper something before he came. It was just a small word, five letters that she couldn't even be sure he'd mouthed, but they shocked her into painful awareness, allowing her to silently slip away from the stables and back home as fast as her legs could carry her.

Belle. He's said Belle.

It was inevitable for things to get awkward after that, even after Belle spent an entire weekend trying to rationally convince herself nothing that she had seen was any of her business and she had no right getting offended by Mrs Mills and Mr Gold's extracurricular activities. In a way it confirmed rumours that she'd heard before, so it shouldn't even have shocked her all that much. But in spite of all that she still found herself spending less time reading in the forest, nursing some hurt feelings she wasn't really entitled to. Inevitably Mr Gold noticed and pull back, widening the distance between them that had shrunk so fast the last couple of months. It left Belle feeling petty and miserable, which in turn made her grouchy and less than welcoming.

So, what if Mr Gold had opened up to her about a few things, told her about his favourite spot, a cabin hidden in the woods, next to a river? So, what if he'd told her how it reminded him of the cottage he'd been brought up in, under the loving care of two doting aunts? His confidences didn't really give her right to be jealous or feel betrayed. And at the back of her head something niggled, some sort of revelation she couldn't quite consciously grasp yet and it bothered her. There was a certain sense of urgency attached to it that made her uneasy. The horses, bright and sensitive as they were, could tell, and they became increasingly skittish around her. The old stallion, on the other hand, became quiet and taciturn, reluctant to be tempted by her apples or her offering of pettings.

So, when she had the first dream, she attached it all to her unstable emotional state and the shock of what she'd seen. The dream itself was fussy and unclear at first, mostly the feeling of slippery scales under her fingertips and the sensation of someone smiling against the skin of her hip, pointed teeth scraping her there. But as time passed the dream became more and more defined. She began to hear sounds and see glimpses of colour, flashes of images that finally coalesced into the form of a man, tough not a traditional one. He had skin that shifted from green to grey to gold, scaly in texture, and claws. His face was hidden from her, though she sometimes caught glimpses of his golden eyes in the dark, watching her avidly.

She was always naked in her dreams, though she didn't know she knew that, but it never made her feel vulnerable or defenceless. Sometimes he'd simply watch her from the shadows, though other times he'd pet her hair, sinking his claws into it with obvious relish. And other times he was all over her, teeth and hands and skin groping, biting and sliding against every part of her he could reach. Though somehow, she knew her phantom lover was dangerous she did not fear him in her dreams, not even when he gripped her hips tight, claws sinking into her skin, or when held her arms up above her head in a vicious grip as he fucked her. Far from becoming frightened or submissive her dream self was just as savage, if not more. She bit back, thrashed against him, feeling nothing but sweet triumph whenever she could flip them around and have him beneath her, powerful and feral and completely at her mercy. They didn't have sex as much as rutted like animals, unlike anything she'd ever felt she'd be comfortable with in real life.

Unwilling to see her satisfying yet unsettling new sex dreams as connected in any way, shape or form to whatever she'd stumbled into a few weeks ago at the stables she decided instead that it was just her healthy mind coping with happened to be a very long dry spell. Not that she minded it, really, not when the alternative was subpar. She'd never been able to find small-town men to be much attractive. There was a small-world mentality to them she shied away from, even in men like Sheriff Graham that were pleasing to the eye and genuinely nice. It didn't help that the "genuinely nice men" like the sheriff were rather an exception. Most of the Storybrooke singles scene was dominated by lowlifes like Keith Nott or Arthur Penn or men like Greg Aston, who seemed to be in a committed, long-term relationship with himself. Her mother had always told her that companionship ought to feel better than being alone, and not to settle for less. And Belle was really okay, happy even, to be by herself, at least in comparison to what it'd be like to be paired up in a town like Storybrooke.

But she did get lonely, and needy, which explained the dreams and her quick, instinctual attachment to Mr Gold, as unfortunate and ill-boding as it had been. So reluctantly, but in the spirit of self-improvement and being brave, he allowed Ruby, the town matchmaker, to set her up with a man. And such a charming man he was, with a cute accent, a small build- Belle hated people towering over her- and a scrappy sense of humour. Will was perfect, except he was perfectly in love with his ex, and Belle felt no sexual attraction to him, dangerous looks and arresting accent or not.

Though her blind date turned more into a friendly meeting, complete with a phone call from the ex in the middle of it and later on a happy recounting of how his ex and he had decided to try to make things work, Belle didn't much mind it, happy enough not to have to gently let Will down at the end of the night. She thought nothing more of it until late one afternoon, when Keith cornered her at the end of her shift, while she was putting away the curry combs and dandy brushes she'd used and setting aside the bits of horse tack that needed to be put away. She never quite figured why Keith still worked at the stables. Daniel didn't tolerate him and even Mr Mills appeared to frown upon the man's almost constantly hangover estate. The way she figured out Keith was still gainfully employed mostly because he'd wear wifebeaters and flex his muscles a lot whenever Mrs Mills was around, which apparently made him a qualified stable hand. He was competent whenever his eye-to-hand coordination wasn't impaired but he had no love for the animals, and they in turn had no love for him.

He had mostly kept his distance from her, due in great part to how Daniel tended to always keep an eye on him. But Daniel had left shortly after she'd clocked in, having left to accompany Miss Mills to a dressage event, reason why Rocinante's stall was empty. She'd given it a thorough cleaning, which was why she was late to tidy up and clock out. She hadn't even thought about the possibility that it'd mean she'd be stuck alone with Keith and no one else, but the moment she became aware of it, when Keith came out of nowhere to try and grab her ass, it was too late.

"Thought you were done being a frigid bitch, Belle."

Keith had learned over the years to fake sobriety, but his eyes were bloodshot and his breath, up close and personal, stank of cheap bourbon. She tried to brush him aside and head towards the women's changing rooms, which locked from the inside, but he grabbed her wrist and violently turned her around to face him again.

"I don't have time for this, Keith. Please let go."

She willed her voice not to waver, not to show how scared she was becoming. she visibly flinched at the sound of hooves smashing against a stall door, but Keith paid it no mind.

"What, thought you liked a good English accent. Thought that's what did it for you. It's a good selling point for a lot of ladies, no need to be embarrassed."

He was trying to sound cajoling, seductive, but his posture was more threatening than enticing. Against her better judgement she moved backwards, deeper into the stables. She knew Keith was scared of the old stallion, though he tried to pretend otherwise, and thankfully the old boy was feeling feisty. If she managed to get close enough to the stall Keith might think twice before trying to grab her.

The drink, however, was giving him a false sense of bravado so when the horse again knocked hard on the stall door to almost tear it off its hinges he flinched, but quickly recovered.

"When the time comes I'll drive you to the glue factory myself, you sack of bones."

He banged on the door with an open fist, meaning to scare the animal. The horse, however, moved lightning-fast, managing to get its muzzle in between the bars and bite hard on the hand. Keith howled, so loudly Belle was surprised the sound didn't reach the big house and alert anyone. He tried to yank his hand back but the horse had a tight grip on it, and didn't look like he was going to budge. When she caught sight of the blood dripping onto the floor Belle herself panicked, throwing caution to the wind and reaching out to pet the bridge of the animal's nose, cooing soft nonsense at it until it let go. Keith stumbled out of the stables faster than she would've thought possible and though she knew she should've gone after him, made sure at least that he would get help, she didn't. She was too caught-up staring at the horse's eyes, spying the malicious intent and satisfied smugness there. He was lapping up the blood smeared around his muzzle, as if it was some rare delicacy and as he did so she caught a glimpse of gold. A gold tooth, which she'd never noticed before. One that reminded her of-

Fuck.

She raced out of the room, overwhelmed by a sudden realisation. That niggling feeling on the back of her head, that notion that she'd noticed something significant, something life-changing was back with a vengeance, and against her will her mind went back to that time he'd stumbled across Mrs Mills and Mr Gold having sex in the stables. What she had noticed and somehow erased from her conscious memory was the iron ring around Mr Gold's right ankle, so familiar to her. A ring she'd studied hundreds of times before but not on the businessman's foot, but rather her stallion's right leg.

The horse and Mr Gold were one of the same. It was nonsensical but at the same time it felt like the most obvious and plausible explanation.

For some reason Storybrooke had rather a healthy folklore section at the library, with some of the library's oldest and most valuable books in it, which Belle promptly transferred to her apartment upstairs to pour into them with as much privacy as possible. Her mother had always told her stories and legends about horses, so she had some sort of idea about what she was looking for. It became more about confirming her suspicions than anything else, and by the time she was done and it was almost morning she knew for certain: Cora Mills had trapped a kelpie.

Mr Gold... there was no Mr Gold. He was an illusion, a facade. As was the old horse. The true creature she'd never seen, though she'd caught a glimpse of it the other night, when he'd almost devoured Keith's entire hand. It explained so much, as ridiculous as she knew it sounded: why the horse was never fed but never died, how it seemed to be ancient and far too intelligent for a common animal, why Mr Gold looked so desperately unhappy, why the Mills lived on what was technically his property.

It was out of the question to do nothing once she knew. Belle had been raised to value her independence and free will above all, to be the one to decide her own fate. To have that taken away felt wrong. It didn't matter to her if the kelpie was likely far from a good creature. The legends spoke about a mean-spirited demon, an imp, a trickster that drowned and devoured people, but it didn't make him deserving of enslavement, specially under the hands of someone as naturally-cruel as Mrs Mills.

Though Belle was naturally an impulsive person she forced herself to plan, to ensure she'd be successful in breaking the kelpie out. The trick, of course, had to be in the iron ring. She purchased and practiced using a variety of different tools that might be able to pry it open, determined to think Daniel had just not tried the right thing when he had unknowingly attempted to set the creature free. She also packed a silver cross, which was meant to potentially protect her against the kelpie, should he prove to be ungrateful towards his liberator, or hungry enough to try and take a bite out of her.

The night before she was set to carry out her plan she dreamt of her phantom lover laying her out in a bed of moss and licking and biting every inch of her, driving his cock into her cunt until she felt she had no strength to orgasm anymore. Afterwards, as they laid in a tangle of sweaty limbs, he told her in a sing-songy voice of all the pleasure that still awaited her, all the different ways in which he'd make her climax the following night.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I have to free him. Mr Gold. The horse. I have to free him."

Suddenly she was clothed, her pyjamas sticky against her cooling body, and a hand was grabbing her by the throat, chocking her. In front of her she saw Mr Gold, only his eyes were golden and he had seaweed in his hair.

"You foolish child." His accent was so thick she was barely able to understand him. "Don't play around with monsters, dearie, you might not live long enough to regret it."

She'd woken up swearing she could still feel Gold's hand squeezing her neck, but she forced herself to shrug the dream off and continue with the plan. Daniel was accompanying Regina to a show-jumping event far enough to require more than a day's absence- she rather thought it was one of the main reasons Regina was participating in the event at all, given hoe lacklustre she'd been about jumping lately- which meant it was the perfect time to do it. Being the only current female employer meant it was easy to simply hide away in the women's changing room once her shift was up and wait for it to get dark. Once it was fully dark out and she was sure that Mrs Mills wasn't about to indulge in one of her... midnight rides Belle sneaked back into the stabled, hauling her bag of tools towards the last stall, where the horse seemed to strangely be waiting for her. He looked more tired than normal, as if even his usual meagre strength had been siphoned away, but tried to put up a fight once she got to her knees in front of his shackled leg, frantically trying to keep the limb out of her reach.

Through sheer force of will and determination she managed to wrestle the creature into submission, which gave her the opportunity to study the iron ring closely for the first time. It was smooth and not overly thick, but thick enough not to be able to cut away with pliers. There was no lock or hinges, only a crude melted line that seemed to have been hastily and sloppily forged. Hoping it was a weakness in the design she could exploit she made a weak attempt at prying the shackle open by pulling on both sides of the line, hoping to get a feel for it. Instead the whole thing came apart at her hands, the iron ring cracking open like an Easter egg.

"What the-?"

The horse almost fell on top of her, looking as close to death as she'd ever seen him. Whatever compulsions Cora had placed on him where gone, which also meant the full reality of his mistreatment and suffering was exposed. With gentle hands and a patience, she knew they didn't have time for Belle slowly coaxed the creature out of his stall and deep into the forest. He needed fresh water, according to what she'd read, and the river was the best source for it. The river Mr Gold talked about often, with such yearning. It made sense now.

"Come on now, we're just a few feet away now. You've been so brave and we're so close, it's all going to be al-"

It felt like getting stung by some sort of massive insect at first, uncomfortable but not overly painful. It wasn't until she felt her stomach getting wet that she looked down, noticing the blood a second before her body caught up with her and she dropped to the ground, pain exploding around her, making it hard to think. Cora Mills stood a few feet away, gun still raised and pointed where she'd been standing only a second before.

"Rumple, dear, look at yourself. So weak, so pitiful. Come back to me, precious, I'll make it all better."

Her sweet, cooing voice was thick with false concern and syrupy sweetness. A trap, a pretence. Belle moaned and turned her head to the side, noticing with unease that the kelpie was not making a run for the water, as he should, rather taking a few tentative steps towards Cora, suspicious but not completely mistrustful. Cora smiled, lips very red in the moonlight.

"That's it, that's it, my darling. We've had such good times, haven't we? We've... enjoyed each other so much. We're so alike, a true partnership. Come here, darling, surely it wasn't so bad being under my care, receiving my... enthusiastic affections."

He took a step towards her and then another. Belle whimpered as a sense of defeat washed over her, watching as the skeletal horse nuzzled against Cora's carefully-coiffed hair. A second later, however, he was grabbing the thick auburn locks with his teeth and was violently dragging the woman towards the river, acting as though her struggles and screams were of little importance to him. Cora screeched, frantically clawing at her trapped hair, trying to tear it off. Eventually the water drowned her screams and the night turned oddly peaceful.

It was hard to determine how much time passed after that. Belle seemed to blink in and out of existence, her vision becoming more and more unfocused and blurry as time passed and the moon moved across the sky. Eventually she heard splashing and was able to see the kelpie as it emerged from the river, no longer emaciated and dirty, but rather well-fed and with a sheen to his black coat. There was also blood around his muzzle and running down his powerful neck. He approached her slowly, carefully, almost lovingly, nuzzling against her like he had done with Cora. Then he tried attempting to entice her on his back. Belle knew precious little about guns or bullet wounds, but she knew that a shot in the stomach meant a slow, painful death, and that she was unlikely to be rescued at all. In contrast drowning seemed like a much more palatable death. Quicker, for sure. And riding a magical horse, even for a few seconds, was something straight out of her wildest childhood fantasies.

The kelpie felt surprisingly warm to the touch, which made lying on his back and absolute relief to the coldness Belle could not seem to shake off. Not even the low temperature of the water seemed to diminish the sensation, and though she had no strength with which to hold onto the animal she didn't drift away, somehow, nor did her lungs burn from lack of oxygen, as if the laws of nature did not apply to her as long as she rode astride the kelpie, cocooned in whatever magic he was capable of.

At some point they got out of the river, somewhere downstream, deep in the woods. Belle saw an old cottage, vaguely English in design and looking incredibly old, moss and ivy creeping up the stone and wooden walls, threatening to engulf it. It was the cottage Mr Gold had described to her often, the one he'd built in loving memory of the place where he'd grown up back in Scotland, under the care of two lovable spinsters. Cora had kept him away from it, which explained why he talked about it with such yearning.

Once out of the water whatever trick was keeping her astride the kelpie faded, just as it did the last bit of her strength. She fell to the floor with a thud, relieved to feel only a dull sort of pain. A moment later spidery arms where wrapping around her and hoisting her up, claws snagging on her cardigan and jeans. She looked up, her eyes feeling heavy, and saw the blurry shape of her dream lover looking down at her, cooing softly at her in a familiar sort of accent.

A moment later the darkness overtook her and she could hear and see no more.

The first thing she became aware of was that she was lying in a bed of thick, soft moss, a buttery-soft blanket draped on top of her naked body. A fire roared somewhere nearby, she could both hear and feel it. It took her forever to pry her eyelids open but when she did she saw the kelpie right in front of her, peering at her intently. He looked like he had in her dreams, scales and leather covering every bit of him, wide amber eyes and sharp teeth and claws. He had seaweed in his hair as well, and Mr Gold's familiar sharp nose and thin mouth. On a rational level she knew she ought to be scared, not only because of what she'd read kelpies where capable of but because he'd seen him kill in cold blood only a few hours ago.

But even though she tried to will herself to be scared the emotion did not materialise, overridden by a burning sort of curiosity that had her reaching out, the fingertips of her right hand gliding over the smooth scales of the kelpie's face. They were dry but slippery, and oddly warm to the touch, which was unexpected. His eyes, strangely cat-like and a deep molten gold, fluttered close when she slid her fingers into his hair, fascinated by the texture of it.

"You're a wonder."

His words startled her, not just by the strange pitch of his voice but by the words themselves. It seemed incongruous for the straight-out-of-lore creature to call her a wonder, and she must have said something, because he laughed, the sound more akin to a purr.

"Not an ounce of fear in you, pretty thing, can't even smell a hint of wariness. Such light, so sparkly and warm inside you, so exquisitely bold."

One of his clawed hands began playing with the tips of her hair, tugging on it in a way that made her scalp tingle pleasantly.

"Such goodness, to bestow it even on a monster. It's no surprise Cora's nasty iron ring didn't stand a chance."

He tugged her closer using her hair, and though it forced Belle to bend close to him it didn't scare her. He pressed his nose on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, inhaling deeply.

"So sweet. Such a pretty light. Never been so close to something like it. Makes me want to gobble it up."

Even though she was absolutely certain the kelpie had not only killed but also eaten Mrs Mills his apparent desire to devour her did not provoke any sort of revulsion or alarm. If anything, it excited her.

"What- what are you going to do to me?"

The kelpie slowly clawed at the tartan blanket, coaxing it away from her body. She let him, finding it all strangely, reassuringly familiar. She'd dreamed about it countless times, after all.

"Never seen anything so pure. Wanna feast on it, get drunk on it. I'm an old kelpie, sweet one, with vast knowledge and experience. I collect things, rare things, valuable things. Things with power. Things that I feel a connection to. And you, pretty thing? You I aim to keep."

As he spoke to her he coaxed her on her back, peeling the last of the blanket off till she was naked in the firelight. The kelpie's clothes disappeared too, dissolving into thin air in that inexplicable way that happens in dreams and fantasies, though Belle knew for a fact it was neither. This was real, startlingly real, and she needed to think about the ramifications of what she'd do next. A moment later the kelpie's mouth was on hers, and her thoughts grew pleasantly muddled. It felt exactly like it had in her dreams, only more intense. The creature was all sharp edges and skinny limbs, but deceptively strong, easily pinning her to the mossy bed beneath. There was a challenge in the way he overpowered her, a provocative playfulness that made her struggle to gain the upper hand. He seemed delighted by it, nipping at her skin to encourage her to retaliate in kind and practically trembling in pleasure when she scratched him by accident.

It was a strangely-liberating experience, new and exciting and yet familiar and comforting, a primal, well-rehearsed danced they practiced a hundred times before in her dreams, in dozens of different ways. When she finally had him on the floor, legs on either side of his hips, one hand on his long mane of hair, keeping him pliant and obedient beneath her she finally saw a flicker of hesitation in his golden eyes. His expression softened, becoming more open and a clawed hand came to rest on top of her left breast, where her heart beat furiously.

"It's forever, dearie."

There was an unspoken question in his voice. Belle was sure the kelpie himself didn't know what he was asking, whether he'd be able to let her go if she asked. Fortunately for both of them, she didn't want to. She pressed her moth against his softly, gently, marvelling at how it disarmed him completely. It was heady to have such power over a creature as powerful as the kelpie was, but Belle did not allow herself to explore that. Instead she sunk into the kelpie's member, digging her nails into his scalp as her body adjusted to the wonderful sensation of fullness that followed. The kelpie trembled, thrashing and whimpering when a tug on his mane made him still. She began to ride him then, slowly and sweetly at first and harder and faster as her belly tightened and her mind became fussier and fussier. Orgasming felt a bit like reaching the end of a long, hard run, muscles aching, heart racing and a feeling of elation overtaking her. The kelpie curled up around her tight as he came, breathless from the exertion, possessively wrapping his bony arms around her, dragging her down with him as he laid back against the moss, wiggling till he was comfortable. He made a sound of contentment when she dragged the tartan blanket on top of both of them, trapping whatever body heat was leftover. There was a voice nagging on the back of her mind, telling her to take a minute and think about what she was doing, what she ought to do next. But the kelpie was warm and comfy beneath her, and the fire kept the room pleasantly toasty. It was all too easy to push the voice aside and close her eyes, the distant sound of the running river lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

[wierdogal]

Tales from The Land: A May Day Menagerie Gift

To @lotus0kid,

Firstly I am sorry for not being to get to talk to you over the course of this fic exchange because of not being online that much. I’d just like to say that I love your fics and I am deeply honoured to have been your Zookeeper this year’s @maydaymenagerie

Your Zookeeper,

wierdofal/ml101

Now on to the gifts! I’ve compiled all four into this one post.

On AO3, the series is as title above. Link here. :)

Rain Under A Clear Sky

Summary: There's a Filipino saying that whenever there is rain when the sky is clear, a mythical creature called a Tikbalang was getting married.Well humans usually only do get some things right.

On AO3

Bridge Towards Home

Summary: The valley wasn't her home, no matter how much the other trolls and Grand Pabbie welcomed her. The bridge she used as a shelter was somewhat her home. The books she gets lost into was the closest thing to a home she could ever had imagined. But then...the Spinner came along.

On AO3

The Pharaoh and his Priestess

Summary: Archeologist Robert Rum Gold was on the brink of finally discovering the tomb of the Nameless Pharaoh that had saved his kingdom from an evil traveller, only to be erased from history.Armed with a family heirloom, he did not expect to find a mythical guardian protecting a chipped cup who knows his name...

On AO3

[ryik-the-writer]

Fic: Smooth Scaling

For maydaymenagerie

For the lovely and dedicated Rumbeller:  magnoliatatoo

Due to technical errors that erased my first fic, I rewrote this to fit with my Salt Water Series, which you don’t have to read all the way through in order to understand this piece. 

Special thanks to @annythecat allowing me to use their mer!rumple manip in my cover page (upper left image)! Kisses! Here’s her original!

I hope you enjoy it!

A03

-,-,-,-

The waters of Storybrooke were warmer, signaling the change in the seasons. This wouldn’t have bothered the young merman if it weren’t for the tingling sensation creeping through his tail and gills which undoubtedly meant that it was the beginning of mating season, not just for the creatures of the sea, but also for the very few merfolk left in the oceans.

Rumple frowned at the thought of the upcoming season. He had never been very successful when it came to finding a mate. Mermaids were very finnicky when it came to choosing their mates, being that they mated for life and had countless offspring. They strived for the mermen with the thickest arms and shiniest tales which Rumple, with his strong but wiry arms and torn tail with missing scales, lacked.

After countless years of rejections and sneering from the stronger mermen, Rumple had given up on ever finding a mate to spend the rest of his days with. He had learned to live in a lonely but not unsatisfying existence among the sea life, protecting the turtles and dolphins from nets and trash the humans carelessly dumped, ignoring the tingles and trembling that signaled it was time to mate.

That is, until a year ago when a beautiful marine biologist and bibliophile named Belle French sat on his secluded square of beach and changed the mundane system of his life.

It was the thought of her that made his urge to mate stronger than ever.

Belle was so beautiful, with her pearl-white skin and eyes blue as the distant sea, but it was her understanding of him that was truly beautiful. When they first met, he had been destroying boats and fishing equipment to protect the harbor, but Belle had stepped in and worked out an arrangement with the humans and the destruction of his harbor decreased significantly.

After that, they spent months learning about each other, going on adventures here and there, and Rumple had irrevocably, but platonically, fallen in love with her.

It wasn’t until the stirrings began that the love he felt for her had turned into an instinctual lust.

When he realized his new feelings for Belle, he was disturbed that he could feel such a thing for her. A human! Beautiful, smart, amazing Belle at that!

Then, as thoughts of her became muddled with his instincts, he thought, why not?

He loved Belle, and knew with certainty that she was attracted to him. She was always raving how beautiful a swimmer he was or how his scales looked like gold coins in the sunlight. She wasn’t afraid to touch him or even ride atop his back when they went on their watery adventures. They shared kisses and cuddled all the time.

He pondered exactly how he could approach the subject of Belle being his mate as he sunned behind the cluster of rocks at their place, the little cluster of beach ignored by the people of Storybrooke but miraculously found by Belle. It was as if nature wanted them together.

He heard sand shifting above and sat up, smiling gleefully as Belle tried not to roll down the hill, flip-flops and sunglasses dangling from one hand while she used her other to try and balance her giant beach bag. She stumbled down the dune, making an ungraceful jump to steady ground.

“Hi Rumple!” she gasped as she reached the shore, spreading out her blanket.

Rumple crawled through the sand until he was lying beside the blanket. “Hi Be…” he trailed off as Belle pulled off her tank top, her pearl-white breasts bouncing in her tight swimsuit top.

“Whoa, it’s hot today!” Belle whooped as she fell back on the blanket.  

Rumple gaped at her peeking breasts and long, silky legs. Though he admired her features, his attention had never been focused directly on them. But now with his hormones raging…

“Belle!” Rumple gasped desperately. “I need to ask you something!”

Belle stared at him. “You okay?”

“Yes!” Rumple nodded. “I just wanted to know if…” Rumple stared into her eyes, blue as the ocean in the early morning sun. So full of love for him, of acceptance.

So unsuspecting and undeserving of his lustful instincts.

“If you’d…” he sighed, courage evaporating like puddles on a hot day. “If you’d like to go swimming with dolphins today.”

Belle gleamed with excitement. “Oh Rumple that sounds beautiful! Now?”

He nodded, mentally beating himself for his lapse of courage as Belle trifled through her bag.

“Could you rub the sunscreen on my back?” she inquired as she started to undo the string of her swimsuit top.

Oh Poseidon’s trident why!?

Rumple pulled himself up, curling his tail under, struggling with the cap of SPF 100 until he squirted a fat blob into his scaly palm.

“Um…”

“It’s fine.” Belle commented. “Just spread it out as evenly as you can.”

Rumple stared at her glistening back, eyes trailing over the adorable moles and blemishes. The cool glop became heavy in his palm as he continued to hesitate.

Belle glanced back, holding her brown curls out of the way. “Rumple?”

The merman slapped her back, causing the goop to ooze between his fingers.

“Ouch! Careful!”

“S-sorry.” He muttered, circling the sunscreen, mesmerized by how the white oil faded into her pores and left a slick residue on her beautiful porcelain skin. Oh and it smelled so good mixed with her scent: salt and coconuts and warmth.

Belle sighed as Rumple rubbed the sunscreen into her skin. His rough, scaly hands felt erotic on her back and shoulders, relaxing her yet sending a tingling pleasure through her nerves. She wondered what they would feel like on other parts of her body…

Belle tensed at a flash of Rumple’s hand running over her thighs.

What was she thinking! She couldn’t look at Rumple…like that.

She loved Rumple, and knew with certainty that he was attracted to her. She saw the love in his eyes every time she came to visit him. He was always offering her little gifts from his cave and touching her. Not inappropriately or against her will, just running his fingers through her hair or intertwining their fingers. They even shared kisses and cuddled.

Those touches had never incited the feelings they were now. She felt warmer somehow, more weighed down.

“I…think you’re ready…Belle.” Rumple said suddenly, pulling Belle out of her daze.

Belle gasped, pulling regretfully from the merman’s grip. “T-thanks.”

Rumple nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’ll…be right back.”

Belle followed Rumple until they were waist-deep, then watched him duck into the waters to summon the dolphins.

“He really is magical.” Belle thought aloud. He was clever, maliciously so, but still greatly intelligent. He was devoted to the ocean and all who inhabited it, and just as devoted to her.

He loved her. It was such a beautifully painful realization because Belle felt the same way. He was everything she ever wanted in a companion. But Belle also knew that expressing her love for him would only confuse him, and she never wanted to hurt him.

Rumple resurfaced and Belle forced a smile.

“There they are.” Rumple whispered, pointing to the distance.

Belle watched in wonder as several dolphins cruised a in the water, coming up for air and chasing each other around, waiting for the couple.

Belle met Rumple in the water and slid onto his back. She locked her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, resting her chin on the space between his shoulder and neck.

They swam deeper into the harbor, picking up speed.

“Whoooo-whoo!” Belle exclaimed as she and Rumple sped on the surface of the water alongside the myriad of dolphins. The mighty dolphins certainly had her mer-boyfriend beat with balance due to his torn fin, but his wiry yet surprisingly strong arms had them beat in speed.

“Should I get off?” Belle yelled over the wind as they began lagging behind.

“No!” Rumple shouted out. “Hang on tight; rough waves!”

Belle clenched her thighs harder down around the waist of his tail. Though Rumple’s scales weren’t slimy, they were still slippery when wet and Belle was having a hard time staying on. She kept adjusting herself, unintentionally rubbing herself up and down his tale until heat started pooling in her lower belly.

Belle blushed at the feeling, not sure if she should be ashamed or aroused. Why was she feeling these things all of a sudden? She and Rumple did things like this all the time and it had never affected her this way.

So consumed with her thoughts that she didn’t see the giant wave racing to them. Rumple jumped to miss it and immediately felt Belle’s weight lift from his back and collide back down sharply before she screamed and fell into the ocean.

“Belle!”

Rumple dove after her, finding her instantly and pulling her to the surface, rushing her to calmer waters.

It took a moment to realize what had happened. One second she was struggling not to let the tingling in her loins overpower her and the next she was having an orgasm so intense that she lost momentary control of her limbs. The aftershocks of it continued to shake her even as she plunged into the ocean and took in a large gulp of salt water. She felt Rumple’s arm wrap around her and pull her urgently to shore, holding her up by her shoulders as he examined her.

“Belle! Oh Belle are you alright? Did you hurt anything?” he pleaded as he checked her arms.

Belle coughed and blew the salty water from her senses and nodded.

“Fine.” She wheezed.

Behind them he dolphins began to cackle, mocking them for their wipeout and defeat.

Rumple hissed at them. “I’ll let the humans turn you into canned goods!”

One of the dolphins cackled again before leading its pack back into the depths of the ocean, leaving the couple alone.

Rumple humped. Majestic dolphins? Prissy peacocks was more like it.

Another cough from Belle led him from is annoyance. He circled an arm around her waist and helped her climb back on his back.

“Let’s get you dried off.”

“Just…take it slow, okay?” Belle inquired shakily, the dregs of her surprise orgasm still dying away.

Rumple nodded, doing his best to ignore the pressure of her delicate weight on his tail.

He got her back to shore without too much of a fuss and crawled up the sand beside her as she pulled her towel out of her bag.

Rumple watched her run her fingers through her salt-coated hair, working out the tangles. She was indeed more beautiful than any creature in the sea. Oh he loved her, every bit of her, even the parts unattainable to him.

No you shark! Don’t think about her parts!

He drummed his fingers on a seashell, keeping his eyes away from her.

“Rumple,” Belle asked suddenly, “can I ask you something?”

Rumple startled. “Of course Belle. You know you can ask me anything.”

Belle chewed worriedly on her withered lip. “How…how do you feel about me?”

Rumple blinked, his mouth going dry. If only she knew…

“I love you Belle. I…thought you knew that.”

Belle giggled. “I do Rumple I do. I just…” she rubbed her hands nervously across her sand-coated knees. “What do you think of me physically?”

Rumple gulped, his pulse and hormones racing all the more. “I…you’re beautiful…”

Belle scooted closer to him. “Rumple,” she began as she lifted his chin. “please look at me.”

Rumple grasped the hand under his chin and brought it to his mouth, holding it while he inhaled the scent of the ocean from her skin. The smell alone stirred the fire inside of him. He lowered his hand to his mouth and ran his tongue along her skin and between her fingers

“Belle…”

Belle stared at her mer-boyfriend in curious astonishment.  “Rum…”

“Belle Belle Belle…” he groaned as he rubbed his face against her palm.

The merman finally looked up at her impossibly blue eyes. She was afraid, not of him, but for him.

“Something’s changed between us Rumple.” Belle affirmed.

“It’s me Belle.” Rumple answered, focusing his gaze on her collar bone.

“What’s you? What’s going on Rumple?”

“It’s mating season Belle.” He admitted at last. “And I…I feel things for you that I shouldn’t…”

Belle paused as she let the vague information set in. She was aware that it was mating season for the sea life of Storybrooke, as she had learned their patterns during her stay, but she hadn’t given Rumple’s nature a lot of thought. It pained her to think that her friend was going through a similar sexual crisis like her.

“Rumple, it’s okay.” Belle reassured gently. “You can’t help biology.”

“But Belle,” Rumple groaned, squirming in the shallow waters. “I feel things for you! I love you, I have for so long, but it’s not love I’m feeling now. It’s lust. And…I’m ashamed.”

Belle took hold of his shoulders and helped him sit up so that she could properly straddle his tail.

“Do you believe that I love you?” Belle asked him, rubbing his shoulders soothingly.

Rumple gulped, his pulse racing and hormones pulsing. “Of course.”

Belle placed a hand over his racing heart. “Then please trust me when I say that I feel the same things for you. And though I’m…confused…I’m not ashamed, and you shouldn’t be either.”

Rumple stared at her in surprise, but then felt a rush of gratefulness. His desire was becoming unbearable and he was relieved that she would be willing to consent to his proposal.

“Are you sure of your feelings are towards me?”

“Of course I’m sure. I know how I feel. Don’t you?”

“I want to be with you Belle but should know…merfolk take their mating rituals very seriously.”

Belle shrugged. “Some humans do too. I for one do.”

“We mate for life Belle.” Rumple confided, taking hold of one of her hands and intertwining their fingers. “We can’t separate from our mates once we choose them.”

Belle tilted her head. “Have you been with another merperson before?”

Rumple grimaced. “No. I never…it just never worked out for me.”

Belle laughed humorlessly. “Tell me about it.”

Rumple’s thumb soothed over her smooth palm. “And you?”

Belle shook her head, looking almost sad. “Almost, a few times. But…it just never worked out.”

Rumple frowned at the thought of the sharks that had dared denied his Belle. They could have had the most amazing woman by their side!

“But it’s better this way.” Belle continued. “I have you.”

Heat coursed through his chest. He smiled lovingly at her and kissed her hand.

“I do love you Belle.”

“Then let’s do it!” Belle said excitedly. “Let’s be together always.”

Rumple leaned up and kissed her, slow and sensational. He petted her damp hair as he pulled back, sighing as he kissed the corners of her mouth and her chin.

“Just let me lead you Belle. Let me lead.”

Belle nodded and let him pull her into the water until she had to climb on his back. He took them deep into the waters, near a patch of coral reef that was starting to bloom with the summer life. When he stopped, he pulled her around to his chest and helped her float.

“Traditionally, this is done underwater.” Rumple explained. “Unless…”

“No.” Belle shook her head, nervous but excited too.  And a little warm even in the cool waters. “I want to do it the way your kind does it. I trust you.”

She kissed Rumple back when he put his lips to hers, but was surprised when his lips didn’t move against hers in response. Instead, he began breathing air into her lungs as he pulled them into the water.

Belle moaned into Rumple’s mouth, breathing in the air he was sending to her lungs. She pulled away briefly to look into his lustful, golden eyes, her eyes barely burning from the salt water thanks to the thicker contacts she had switched to.

Rumple’s hands scaled down her naked sides to her hips and buttock, firm from years of intense swimming. He gently grasped her hips and encouraged her to wrap her legs around his waist, pulling at the string of her bikini bottoms while his other hand undid the top.

Belle allowed him to maneuver her and gasped into his mouth when his scaly tail erotically rubbed against her clit. Her arms swayed by his sides, unsure where or what to grasp in her mission for completion.

Rumple made sure he had a firm grip on her before he began to slowly circle them, creating a sort of dance, all the while applying small thrusts against her pelvis. He felt heat greater than the one flushing through his body collect in the center of his tail, level at the place where Belle’s mating parts were. He glanced down long enough to see a phallus extend from his tale, scale-less but gold like the rest of his tail, brushing against Belle’s thigh.

He was nervous then. He didn’t know the extent of what would happen next, didn’t know if once it happened if everything between them would change. But brave Belle’s gentle touches encouraged him to press on and swallow his uncertainties.

Carefully and uncertainly, he leveled himself with Belle’s parts. Her hands covered his, helping him position himself in her comfortably. As soon as he was incased in her spongey, warm cave, Belle began moving them, and Rumple placed a wedge between his need to shoot off and to take care of her. He scaled his hands everywhere he could. Her pulse was racing under his fingertips, her hands holding his waist against her to discourage separation.

Her hand removed one of his from her waist, placing it where they were joined. Rumple felt around, grazing her parts and his, unsure of what she wanted him to do. Thankfully, Belle patiently moved his fingers where she wanted them to be: on top of a spongy button. Each time he pressed on it or moved it around, Belle would moan into his mouth or her thighs would twitch.

Suddenly Belle pulled from his mouth, leaning her forehead against his. Her eyes bore into his and Rumple could see t lust in her dilated pupils. Her hips began to grind against his frantically, creating small whirlpools around their hips. Rumple’s talons began to pierce Belle’s thighs as his release escalated to its strongest point.

Belle’s sex clenched him so tight Rumple released a vibrating cry, his eyes rolling as is seed shot into her. Belle pulled back from him, her mouth screwing in a gasp, the oxygen she had been containing leaving her at a rapid pace.

Still blurry-minded, Rumple gripped her hips and shot through the surface, Belle panting and Rumple shaking.

“B-belle?” Rumple husked, holding her up.

Belle leaned her head against her mer-boyfriend’s chest, feeling boneless from the low quantity of oxygen and sex.

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” he murmured, kissing her wet hair.

Belle yawned, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Just tired. Can you get us back to shore?”

Rumple giggled, filled to the brim with pride and love for his darling Belle and relief for himself. He felt lighter than he had in days, free from the pressing weight of instinctual lust. But he also felt fuller than ever before.

He’d been so lonely before he met Belle, so lonely that he hadn’t known at first just how to be with someone else. She had showed him how, showed him how to let affection and love in and give it back.

Now he had a future because he and Belle were connected in a way no one could take away from them.

They were mated for life.

-,-,-,-,

“Rumple?”

Rumple opened his tired eyes, turning on his side and smiling at his mate. “Yes my love?”

“Did you grab my swimsuit?”

-,-,-,-,-,-

Okay…I have no idea how mermaids do it.

I barely know how fish do it, and I frankly don’ want to explore any further.

I barely barely know how people do it.

So…I did my best.

Good day all.

[mariequitecontrarie]

One Thousand Blessings: A Macelle Fic

Summary: Catching a thief red-handed two days before Christmas is the last thing Joseph MacAvoy expects headed into the holidays with his wife, Belle, especially when the robber in question turns out to be a little boy with blue eyes and tousled blonde curls he can’t seem to forget. Meanwhile, seven-year-old orphan Nicholas Parrish is hanging onto the dregs of hope for a Merry Christmas, and Belle has a bright idea—and a Christmas secret—of her own. Rating: T, for now A/N:  Sequel to Morning Glory, my @maydaymenagerie. Maybe you’re thinking “Really, Marie, a Christmas story in January?” I’ve been planning this for a while, but with the holidays and the stomach flu running rampant at our house…yeah. This is Part 1. I think there will be 4 Parts.

Read on AO3

DECEMBER 23rd: STORYBROOKE SODA AND SUNDRIES The slap of Joseph’s hand against the front door is sharp and cold.

His palm stings with the contact, clammy skin sticking to the icy surface and his breath fogs the glass, obstructing his view of snow-covered Main Street despite the morning sunshine. His other hand shoots out to wrap his knuckles around the door handle, locking his arms around a four-foot boy with a suspicious lump in his coat.

Unless the kid ducks back into the store and heads into the back where Clark, the pharmacist, is standing guard by the employee door, there’s no way out.

Joseph looks down, pinning the back of a curly blonde head with a solemn stare. “What are you doing, son?”

“Uh, nothin.” For a moment, the boy’s shoulders slump. Then he turns his head, smoky blue eyes flashing with defiance, his ragged breath fogging the glass alongside Joseph’s.  

Joseph frowns, his fingers cupping a small elbow in a coat too thin and threadbare for a Storybrooke winter. He slides his hand upward, gripping a surprisingly meaty bicep for one so young, and gently takes hold of his shoulders to steer him back toward the inside of the store. There is resistance—sneakered feet squeak against the tile floor, but after a moment the boy relents and turns around.  

“What?” the kid asks, playing dumb. His eyes flicker briefly over Joseph’s before hitting the floor.

Joseph tilts the boy’s chin up to examines his heart-shaped face—full cheeks, a jaunty chin, and a smattering of freckles. He’s a sturdy little thing, looks to be around six or seven. Not that he would really know.

It’s a rare occurrence to find a thief in a small, affluent town like Storybrooke. Back home in the squalid city of Middlesbrough, north England, where he’d been raised and trained in the priesthood, catching a kid pilfering cigarettes or booze to use or sell off would have been typical.

But here in Storybrooke, most family units were intact, small business thrived, and people had the means to care for their own and share with others. Even the scant handful of children who live at the convent with the sisters have full bellies and enough supervision to keep them from running through the streets and making trouble.

As for Joseph, departing England also meant abandoning his vocation and leaving a life of loneliness behind. Last year, through a series of unbelievable events and thanks to a peculiar angel named Merlin, he’d become the owner of this convenience store where he used to work stocking shelves, and somehow been blessed to marry Belle French, town librarian and love of his life.

Belle. Thoughts of her draw an instant smile to his face and his cheeks heat with pleasure. His wife has such a way with people; she would know exactly what to do with a little boy who was caught stealing. Joseph imagines her now,  crouching down until she was right at his level, eyes sparkling with mirth. She would introduce herself, then lead him away by the hand to read a children’s book featuring the perfect moral at the end of the story. After a scant handful of well-meaning question, the child would fall in love with her natural curiosity and the musical trill of her laugh, and all the details of his life would come tumbling out in a jumble of words and emotions.

At least, that’s how it had been for Joseph.

But Belle isn’t here. The boy is stuck with him—an awkward ex-priest-turned-shopkeeper—and his relative inexperience with children. Since their marriage, he and Belle had talked about the possibility of children in the future, but it was more of a five-year plan, a distant goal relegated to “someday.” For now, his knowledge is limited to the little ones he sees tugging on their parents’ coats in the store, asking for candy at the checkout, or their shy smiles of gratitude and sticky fingers when he serves them a dish of ice cream. There are also the occasional teenagers who sit at the soda fountain counter, sipping milkshakes and chattering with their friends in a language only they understand, iPhones plastered to their faces.

While he’d been a priest, he was usually too drunk to even notice children. Oh, he’d christened a baby now and then, but young ones never darkened the door of his confessional or came to him for advice. And the parish was too small and the congregation too disgusted with their drunken pastor to send altar boys in for training. What words of love or comfort would he have offered, anyway? What life skills could he have taught, other than to demonstrate the quickest way to the bottom of the bottle?

None of that now. The still, small whisper of God fills his mind, delivering the peace he craves. Those days are over, Joseph, and you are a new creation in Me.

Then give me the words now, Lord, he begs silently. I don’t know what to say or do.

He rakes a hand through his hair and refocuses on the boy, who’s now standing with arms crossed over his chest, scrutinizing him like he’s grown a third eyeball.

Joseph knows one thing; the boy picked the worst time of day to make his move. It’s December 23rd — just two days until Christmas — and for the first time in several weeks the store is quiet, a mid-morning lull in the bustle of the season. It’s strange, really; an hour ago he’d been selling boxes of candy and small toys faster than Granny’s Diner sold stacks of flapjacks during the weekend breakfast rush. Now the place is eerily quiet, and the silence gives Joseph space to think.

What drove this poor kid to rob his store on a Thursday morning? Is it a childish prank, or does a deeper need lurk beneath the surface?

Sympathy floods him, along with a sense of calm. He may not be great with advice or problem-solving, but the Lord has blessed him with compassion and discernment, as well as a listening ear.

Joseph drops his eyes from the boy’s face, nodding at the large bulge in his threadbare jacket that’s tucked securely beneath his little arms, his left elbow nearly poking through the sleeve of his coat. On the security monitor, he’d watched him tuck several items against his chest before cornering him at the front door. He should have stopped him sooner, he supposes, but he was puzzled by the odd collection of items he’d chosen. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

The boy’s gaze shifts, a well-worn navy and grey running shoe poking at a bit of melting snow on the floor. “We’re …we’re on a field trip.”

“Oh, a field trip, is it?”

“Yep.” The kid nods vigorously.

Joseph smiles and runs his hand over his whiskers, pretending to consider. He knows a whopper when he hears one. He supposes that’s one positive attribute he took away from the priesthood. “Where’s the rest of your class?”

“My class? They’re uh…oh.”

“Oh.” Joseph nods knowingly, then clears his throat. “Stealing is wrong, son. It’s also against the law.”

“I’m not your son.”

The arms crossed over his little chest tighten protectively around his ribcage, his lower lip jutting out in a sour pout. But there is a wistfulness in the words, and Joseph’s heart gives an answering pang.

“True enough,” Joseph answers.              

His chin jerks up. “Are you gonna call the Sheriff now?” He draws out the words, reluctant.

Joseph smooths his hand over his work apron, thinking.

Sheriff Swan is a close personal friend of his wife’s. She could come in and take over, find out what’s going on with this boy. Within ten minutes, Joseph could make a statement, Miss Swan’s patrol car would pull away with the boy inside, and Joseph would return to running his store. When the clock struck five, he would go home to a hot meal, gaze at the glowing light of the Christmas tree, and tuck himself into bed against Belle’s side.  

He shoots a longing look toward the telephone on his desk. But no, calling the police isn’t the right thing to do. It’ll scare the boy away, harden him toward both Joseph and the law—and that’s the last thing he wants. Somehow, he knows God has intended him to help this child, just as surely as he knows his own name. Still, he has to tread carefully, or he will lose the boy’s trust before it’s even been earned.

“That depends, doesn’t it?”

The boy frowns. “On what?”

“Whether you tell me the truth. If you’re honest, you can save us both the trouble of involving Sheriff Swan or your parents.”

The boy opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it shut. Joseph shifts toward the soda fountain, trusting his young charge to follow. “Come with me.”

“Fine.” He drags his feet and huffs an impatient sigh, as though Joseph is the one who has done something wrong.

Joseph bites back a smile at his perturbed little face, and waves a hand toward a stool. He ducks behind the counter, then chooses a sundae glass and lifts the cover on the ice cream case. “You, ah, you like ice cream?” he asks, pausing with the scoop in his hand. Oh, please let the answer be Yes.

“Yeah,” he answers, but the boy eyes the red vinyl seat a with distrusting glare before giving it a spin. He glances around the store, as if looking for someone. “The old lady who owned this place before was real mean. Heard she used to poison the kids who came in here.”

Stunned by the bitter claim, Joseph looks up from mounding vanilla bean ice cream into a dish. He almost cracks a stupid joke about serving poison-free desserts, but behind the kid’s suspicious tone lives real fear. And he’s not far from the truth. The store’s previous owner and his old boss, Bedelia Bluementhal, ran the store with an iron fist. Later, she’d been found guilty of accepting bribes from drug companies and selling drugs to children throughout New England. Thanks to the Lord (and the angel Merlin), she was spending the rest of her life behind bars for her crimes.

“She’s gone now,” Joseph confirms. He keeps his voice steady yet gentle, drawing the boy’s attention away from worriedly scanning the aisles, and meeting his eyes. “You don’t have to be scared of her anymore. Sit down.”  

“I ain’t scared, Mister,” the boy scoffs.

The tension in his small, hunched shoulders melts like ice cream around the edges of a carton, then he hops onto the stool with an energetic exuberance that only children seem to possess. His eyes remind Joseph of Belle’s favorite blue dinner plates when he sees the sundae, but he doesn’t rush to pick up the spoon. Instead he gives Joseph a long, searching look.

Joseph doesn’t take offense at the way he runs his eyes over his sharp nose and greying, shoulder-length hair, but continues to hold his gaze, letting the boy look his fill. If he were a gambling man, he’d bet his store and all its inventory that in this kid’s experience, nothing is free.

“It’s okay,” Joseph says softly.

The boy nods, almost imperceptibly, and Joseph smothers another smile when he digs into the sundae  with gusto, gulping huge mouthfuls of ice cream, hot fudge, whipped cream, and rainbow sprinkles. Melted chocolate dribbles down the side of the glass and puddles on the countertop, and he swipes the goodness up with his fingers and shovels it into his mouth, not missing a drop.

“Good?” Joseph asks as the boy gobbles the ice cream concoction, not really expecting a response. He steps away to shine the chrome fixtures on the fountain, giving him space to enjoy the treat. Instinct tells him the last thing this kid needs is someone watching him eat, like he’s some sort of animal in a cage.

Joseph knows the boy is finished when he hears a soft, contented sigh. He turns back toward the counter. “I’m Joseph. What’s your name?”

The boy scrunches up his face, as if deciding whether to tell. The remnants of the hot fudge sundae are smeared on his chin, his blonde curls adorably tousled. “It’s Nick.”

Joseph can’t contain a delighted laugh. “Nick! Ah, what a grand name. Especially at Christmastime.”

Curiosity leaps into his eyes when Joseph leans closer, and he drops his voice to a just above a whisper as if sharing a secret. Belle says kids love secrets, and he figures it’s worth a shot. “You know, Saint Nicholas is the protector of children. He always gives in secret, alert to the needs of others, and expects nothing in return. That’s a very special name you have.”

“Really?” Nick worries his lower lip. “What’s a-lert?”

“It means he knows what we need even before we think to ask, sometimes before we know ourselves.”

Blue eyes fill with tears, and grubby little balled up fists dash them away in angry swipes.

Joseph drops his eyes to the counter to give the boy privacy, a chance to collect himself. Blindly, he hands him a warm, hot towel scented with lemon, the type fancy restaurants pass out after a meal. Belle’s idea, of course.

Nick mops his face and hands, then slaps the towel back on the counter, now tinged grey and streaked with dirt and chocolate. He sniffles, then picks the towel up again and blows his nose.

When he’s finished, Joseph whisks the soiled towel away and clears his throat. “So,” he begins, keeping his voice low and quiet so as not to attract attention from his staff or other customers, “why don’t you show me what you took?”

Eyes on the floor, Nick unzips his jacket and begins to line items up on the counter with trembling fingers. A red and green fur stocking trimmed in white. Elmer’s glue. A bottle of red glitter. An orange. Peanut butter M&Ms.

They’re trinkets, each item small and inexpensive, except maybe the stocking. Compassion overwhelms Joseph again, along with something else—a strange, tingly sensation he’s never experienced. He braces his hands on either side of the counter, heart tripping over the bizarre emotion.

He absorbs the stillness, waiting for Nick to speak. Other customers have entered the store now and between the thumps of his own heartbeat, Joseph hears the low murmur of voices, the shuffle of feet on the floor, the whirr and ding of the old-fashioned cash register.

Those serious blue eyes find his again, wide with appeal.

“It’s Christmas.” The boy gestures at the pile of loot, and Joseph nods, encouraging him to continue.

“I wanted to make a stocking. The sisters hangs some up by the fireplace.” He presses his lips together, as if fearing he’s already said too much. “But I thought…forget it. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid at all.” Relief floods Joseph, and thanksgiving. A boy who wants a stocking is a boy who hasn’t lost hope. A boy who wants a stocking still believes in the miracle of Christmas.

The sisters.

Nick lives at the convent. Pieces begin to fall into place.

“So see, you can’t call my parents. I have none.” The words come out in a practiced rush, like he’s stood in front of the mirror saying them, reminding himself he belongs to no one.

Joseph picks up the stolen orange and digs into the peel with his thumb, sending a citrus-scented spray across the countertop between them. He separates the fruit and offers a section to Nick.

Nick licks his lips and looks at the segment, hesitating.

The convent takes good care of the children, but special snacks between meals—like a juicy orange in the middle of the morning—are few and far between.

“Go on.” Joseph swallows the lump in his throat and gives what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “There’s no catch. Take it. Growing boys need lots of fruits and vegetables.”

“Orange is my favorite,” Nick mumbles in response, then pops the half-moon into his mouth.

“Mine too.” Joseph eats a piece, then offers the boy another. “Many, many years before you or I were born, Saint Nicholas once knew of a poor man who couldn’t find men to marry his daughters because he didn’t have money. Well Saint Nick, he couldn’t let that stand. He gave all the girls gold, just tossed it through the window. The gold coins landed in their stockings, which were hanging by the fire to dry. That’s one of the reasons we get oranges today. Santa gives them at Christmas as a symbol of the gold that was left in those stockings.”

“Wow. So oranges are like gold.” Nick’s face splits in a gap-toothed grin, dropping his guard for the first time since they met at the front door.

“Something like that.” Joseph grins back, pleased to have wandered onto common ground. Again he finds himself thanking the seminary for grilling him in Church history. “Tell me more about this stocking.”

Nick looks down at the red and green striped sock, the stubborn tightness of his jaw returning. He’s still afraid. Either of being turned in or laughed at, Joseph can’t be sure.

Joseph sighs. “Look, I’m not going to rat you out to the Sheriff, and I’m not calling the convent. You have my word. But trust earns trust. You’ve gotta be straight with me.”

Nick continues to chews his orange with maddening slowness, still saying nothing.

Finally, he swallows the bite and leans forward. “Thought if I had one with my name on it, Santa might come. Last Christmas with Mr. Bailey, he couldn’t find the house.” He looks away. “I’m sorry, Mister. Sorry for stealing. But if Sister Astrid finds out…”

Joseph pinches the bridge of his nose, processing this information. He’s guessing this Bailey guy was the kid’s last foster home, but he doesn’t press him again. Astrid is a kind, compassionate woman and a dear friend of Belle’s, not to mention a fellow former member of the order. “The name’s Joseph, remember? And you’re forgiven. I won’t tell Miss Astrid about what happened today.”

“Thanks, Mister Joe.” His little body sags in relief.

Joe?  He barks a laugh. “Joe, huh? Guess I can live with that.” No one calls him by a nickname, not even Belle. No one except…Merlin. But the angel is long gone; he hasn’t seen him in well over a year, and doesn’t expect to again.

An idea hits him, and he looks at his watch. “I hear Santa is going to visit the Storybrooke Public Library today, right around lunchtime. Why don’t you go over there and see if you can share your Christmas list? I’ll bet he’s making something for you in his workshop, even now. Ask for Miss Belle, she’s the head librarian.”

Nick sits up straighter and his eyes ignite with hope. “That’s where my class was going today! The library! But I didn’t know Santa was gonna be there.” Joseph grins, and his chest inflates with pride in his wife and her clever decision to have Santa treat the children to a story before Christmas.

He shuffles to the wall behind the soda fountain, fishes his own grey wool hat out of his coat pocket, then tugs it down over the boy’s shell-pink ears, careful not to cover his eyes. A fringe of blonde bangs peeks out from under the brim. It’s still a little big, but warm enough to keep the winter wind at bay. “If you go now, I bet you can catch Santa and give him your Christmas wishes, but before you leave, I need you to promise me something.”

Nick’s forehead puckers; once again he’s looking for the catch.

Joseph keeps his gaze locked on his, kind yet penetrating. “The hat is yours to keep, and so are these.” He holds up a sturdy, reusable bag containing the once-stolen goods, now freely given, with three extra oranges for good measure. “Promise me the next time you need something from the store, you’ll come to me and ask. No more stealing.” He holds out his free hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yeah.” Nick nods and puts his small hand inside Joseph’s and shakes. “Okay, promise.”

The gentle glide of those small, damp fingers across his callused palm makes his knees wobble. Catching his breath, Joseph watches as Nick zips up his coat, hefts the bag of goodies, then heads for the front door.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Joseph calls, feeling oddly desperate.

Nick peers over his shoulder with a shrug. “Why my store?” It’s a stupid question, really, and Joseph isn’t sure what makes him ask. There aren’t many stores in Storybrooke, and the majority of them sit right here on Main Street.

Another shrug. “I like your sign.”

Joseph feels himself smile. The cheery red and white sign was another one of Belle’s improvements when they’d taken ownership of the place.

Nick breaks into a run and charges for the door, the smack of his hands against the glass making the bell jangle merrily. “Bye, Mister Joe! Thanks for the ice cream and stuff!”

Joseph’s smile widens and he waves, while Nick’s steps along the snowy sidewalk in the direction of the library throw fresh white powder against the front window. He thinks about phoning Belle, imagines her sweet laughter on the line as he tells her about his unusual morning and asks her to look out for a curly-haired boy with a crooked smile. But he can’t do that. He made a promise to Nick, and a promise, once broken, can never be made whole. Closing his eyes, he folds his hands on the counter, still littered with orange peels from the snack they shared. He closes his eyes and prays that whatever Nick’s Christmas wishes are, somehow Saint Nicholas will come through.

###

[maydaymenagerie]

May Day Menagerie: The Rumbelle+ Gift Exchange Extravaganza (Sign Up Ends in 8 Days)

Have you signed up for the third annual Rumbelle+ May Day Menagerie Gift Exchange? This is an exchange with Rumbelle (or Anyelle/Anyem) pairings with a dash of mythical creatures added in. Will your work have both or one being the mythical creature? Or interacting with a mythical creature? You decide based on your giftee’s prompt how you will include the creature in your gift.

The creature categories (I can’t promise if you want Leprechauns that somebody will ask for Leprechauns, but you can ask for specific categories to up your chances!) are Land Based Creatures (Think Chupacabra, Werewolf, Vampire, etc.), Water Based Creatures (Think Mermaid, Creature from the Black Lagoon, Nessie, etc.), and Air Based Creatures (Think Angels, Aliens, Pegasus, etc.). Please note, we ask for two ships or two creature categories so that there is a back up in case you are the only participant asking for the specific pairing/creature combination.

You are still welcome to email (especially if your ask gets eaten and we don’t respond to it) and the new email is RumbelleMayDayMenagerie@gmail.com as I cannot access the old email accounts.

Sign ups are ongoing and the Google Form is located here. They close on Wednesday, February 28, 2018.

Matches will be made and sent out by Friday, March 2, 2018 (or possibly Sunday, March 4 if we need a bit more time to pair people).

Due date for the gifts is set for Tuesday, May 1st, 2018.

If you have any questions, please Ask or email RumbelleMayDayMenagerie@gmail.com

Rules:

Your username must remain the same for the duration of this exchange.

Anon love must occur at a minimum of once every two weeks during the exchange.

The gift must be something able to be reblogged on Tumblr.

[justanoutlawfic]

Hey Babe, I'm sorry but I just got back from work and I hope to have at least 1 of your 2 short fics up by the end of the day, my time, making it a few hours late your time. Life has been hectic and I'm so sorry about this. Sending all the love your way, ZK

Oh don’t worry about it! Work comes first and I don’t mind waiting. :) I hope you had a good day.  Lots of love.

[zookeeperforworryinglyinnocent]

Hey, @worryinglyinnocent

I think you know what this means! It's time for you to tell me what you want for @maydaymenagerie May Day Menagerie! I'm happy to write whatever your heart desires,( even smut if you so wish)! FYI, I'm a bit of a slow writer, but I'm going to try my best and write you something good and I can't do that without your help so let me know what you want! You wrote:

Ships: Rumbelle, Rushbelle, or Macelle

Creature Category: Water or Air

What exact creature were you thinking of? Who's the creature?

What Ship? If you want an obscure one not on the list, I'm willing to watch any movie for the sake of writing. 2 hours is nothing for a cool story.

What do you want happening in the fic? Whhat do you NOT want.

Anything else you would like? Prompts are cool too if you want somthing specific like "It's Valentines day in Storybrooke and Belle is visited by a cupid after continuous failed relationships," or something like "Shape of water AU," I'm not the most creative person and am willing to watch new films if you want an AU or something!

Anyway, can't wait to hear back from you, and good luck with your own writing!