Disclaimer: Yeah, if I owned OUAT I would have a lot more money in my bank account.

A/N: Sorry this took so long. School, life and my need to update other fics all got in the way. But I finally found the time and I think this one is a good chapter. Cora is so wicked in this one, plus you all learn a little bit more about their marriage. Also, Rumple and Belle get a little bit closer. I think you'll enjoy it.

Anonymous Review:

Beatriz Mary N: LOL, you're review came in just as I was finishing up the final scene. I hope two hours is fast enough for you.

Guest: It is always my goal to keep the characters in character. I'm glad you think I've done a good job. Thanks for reading.

Liz: Wow, I'm so glad I got you hooked. I hope you like this chapter too.

prttykitty7728: I'm glad Only a Rose and this story are your two favorites. I love them both too. I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much.

Guest: Rumple isn't quite in love with Belle yet, LOL. He's only just getting to know her now. But he doesn't realize how much this tiny spark can grow. Stay tuned.

Anne Andrews: Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner! Yes, the title does come from Shakespeare's sonnet 116. "Let me not to the marriage of true minds/ admit impediments..." Since Cora and Rumple don't have true love, there's is a marriage of "untrue minds". Good job figuring that out. Yes, Rumple's crush is adorable. I think you'll like how adorable he is in this chapter as well.

Chapter 4: Sickness and Death

Belle rose with the sun every morning now in order to get started on her chores. Rumplestiltskin and Cora breakfasted every morning at eight which mean she had to have the table, tea, and plates prepared. She knew she had no right to complain over the hour as she did not have to cook the meal, unlike the servants at her old home. Still, none of this was easy in her rapidly deteriorating gown.

She wasn't sure if Rumplestiltskin didn't notice or if Cora had insisted she remain in her ball gown. She nearly always ripped it climbing out of her pallet. Her petticoats showed through in many places, now stained grey and brown. One shoulder had torn and dangled across her bodice. She had used string to keep her bodice from gaping open to expose her bosom, though it hardly mattered. She had no reputation here to ruin.

Belle assumed eventually she would have to receive new clothes or else she would be resigned to wearing nothing but her chemise. Perhaps Cora desired that. Certainly Rumplestiltskin didn't. The idea of him seeing her half-naked made her cheeks flare and she forced that thought away. Perhaps when she can find the time alone with him she could ask for a new dress. She stood a better chance without Cora present.

Ever since they had returned from Sherwood Forest without Robin Hood's head, things had changed between her and Rumplestiltskin. He could still be crude and downright nasty at times, but she simply battled him with her own witty retorts. He liked being challenged, she had learned. Yet, there was still moments of kindness between them. Occasionally he would find her in the library and would suggest a book for her to "dust" as he called it. He never liked to admit being generous, but she knew he did not want her to fear him. Perhaps he even wanted to be her friend.

It was the exact opposite with Cora. Her mistress had not punished her outright for what happened when her husband had not allowed the Sheriff to ravish her, but she had issued as many difficult chores she could think of. The tub in her room had stopped filling at her command and she now made Belle bring buckets of hot water up and down the stairs several times, insisting it was never hot enough. After her fourth trip, Rumplestiltskin had finally stepped in. With a flick of his wrist, the water in the bucket boiled, scalding his wife when she stepped into the tub.

Belle appreciated his attempts to shield her from Cora's cruelty, but she suspected that only made the woman resent her even more. So Belle kept her pleasure at seeing Cora defeated to herself, smothering her laughs into her pillow when she was alone in her cell.

The kitchen had prepared boiled eggs, toast with an assortment of spreads, sausage, and hot porridge. She arranged it all on a tray and brought it to the dining room. The table was set and the tea was hot. Rumplestiltskin came down first and she smiled when she saw him. As always, he selected the chipped cup when he poured himself some tea.

"I'm enjoying the book you recommended," Belle said.

"I thought you might. You have a keen mind so a complex plot wouldn't deter you."

She liked how he said that. Oh her father had praised her cleverness and asked for her to read his letters, but she knew he did it more to please her than because he had faith in her skills. But Rumplestiltskin meant it when he said she was intelligent. He didn't just give into her whims, he actually valued her input.

"Have you read The Corsair?" Belle asked. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Poetry has little appeal to me."

"But it's so cleverly written," Belle insisted, "And I rather think you'd find a kindred spirit in the main character."

"You think me a pirate?" he quipped.

"A rogue, I suppose," she said.

"Hmmm," he mused over his cup, "I rather like that."

They shared a smile and Belle wanted to say more, but the sound of Cora sweeping into the room forced Belle to step away from him. She knew Cora would not take kindly to them chatting over books.

Belle played the role of footman over their breakfast, passing them jam or pouring more tea. Back home she normally took a tray in her room unless they had guests. She had always liked reading and conversing with her handmaid while enjoying her morning meal. Rumplestiltskin never ate very much. Neither did Cora, but she enjoyed forcing Belle to fetch more things from the kitchen and leaving it barely touched.

Belle went to make another pot of tea and returned just in time to see a dove fly into the room. The bird moved through the window like the glass was nothing more than air, some trick of magic Belle guessed. A little scroll was tied to one of his legs.

Rumplestiltskin removed the scroll and let the dove fly out the same window again, perhaps to some coop he kept it in. Belle poured more to tea into Cora's cup, but watched him read the scroll with a crease between his brow.

"Anything interesting?" Cora asked.

"Your lover is dead."

Belle gasped at his bold announcement but Cora continued to salt her eggs like he had only spoken of the weather. "Who?" she questioned.

"Prince James."

Belle covered her mouth with her hand. Prince James was Cora's lover? She'd met the man one two occasions and found him to be an arrogant, selfish creature who loved nothing more than sticking his sword into something. Naturally, he and Gaston were friends. What had Cora wanted with Prince James? He was handsome enough, but there was little else to recommend him.

"And I suppose King George wants you to bring his son back to life," Cora said with a shrug.

"Can you do that?" Belle asked without thinking. Cora shot her a nasty look for speaking out of turn, but Rumplestiltskin shook his head at her.

"Dead is dead, dearie," he said, "Perhaps you could reanimate the body, but the person will never be who they were. No one wants a walking corpse for a prince."

"Well at least there is a spare for George," Cora said.

"But James was an only child," Belle said.

"Did anyone ask you to speak?" the sorceress snapped.

Belle took a step back, but Rumplestiltskin ignored his wife entirely. Instead he gave Belle a positively wicked smile. "No, he wasn't."

Belle frowned at him. "I don't understand."

"The dearly departed prince was no prince at all. Kind George and his queen couldn't have children so they made a deal with me. I found a poor sheep farmer and his wife who were struggling to feed two newborn sons and I gave them a hefty sum for one of the infants."

Belle gaped at him. "You actually do deal with children?" She'd heard rumors of him stealing newborns from their mother's breasts, but she'd never thought it was true.

"The family agreed to the deal, it was their choice to sell their child for a small fortune," he said with a shrug.

Belle supposed that was a good point. He didn't force anyone into these deals, even if they often sided in his favor. Still, she imagined it would have been difficult for the family to give up one of their children, even if they were starving and in desperate need of the money.

"Will you go?" Cora asked.

"Of course," Rumplestiltskin said, "Do you wish to pay your respects to your bed warmer?" Belle blushed for Cora at his snippy comment. The woman herself showed no emotion.

"Dead is dead, as you said," Cora replied, "Though it is a shame. He had very good hands."

Belle was certain her face was stained crimson now. What sort of woman said that to her husband? Having an affair was shameful enough, but to openly flaunt it before him? It was beyond wrong. It was unthinkable.

"I'll pop over to see Maleficent," Cora said, "She has a new potion she wished to share with me."

"Do as you will, I could be gone for a few days."

There was a stirring of something inside of Belle. Disappointment, she realized with more than a little surprise. It was actually a shame for her to learn that he would be gone. She would miss their discussions in the library. She did relish a few hours free from Cora, though. Perhaps she would be absent too for the length of his departure. She hated the idea of being alone in the castle, but it was far better than being alone with Cora.

"Will the shepherd boy agree to replace his brother?"

"What?" Belle asked.

"Of course he will," Rumplestiltskin said, "King George needs an heir and by now that farm will be dilapidated again. He will do it to save his mother."

Now Belle understood. Rumplestiltskin couldn't bring Prince James back to life, but he could replace him with his twin brother. That seemed far worse than simply paying for the newborn as he did before. George had raised James and the farmer's wife had raised the brother. This man could step into James's shoes, but he couldn't replace him in the king's heart. Not to mention the terrible loss that would be dealt to his mother.

Belle thought about this all the while as she cleaned the table and washed the dirty dishes. She did wonder what this twin brother was like. He must look like James, but was he the same character? She hoped not. James would have made a terrible king. Despite the wrongness of this deal, perhaps it would be better for the realm that this shepherd became king.

Belle helped Cora dress for her visit to Maleficent, the wicked fairy Belle had only heard of and had never any desire to meet. Rumplestiltskin wasn't in the adjoining room, so she wondered if he had already gone as well. Cora had instructed her to change the linens and wash everything while she was absent, but that could wait a bit. She was nearly done with her book and the sorceress wouldn't know she'd tarried.

She was surprised to find Rumplestiltskin wasn't gone yet. He was in the library, looking at one book. "I thought you'd gone," she said when she saw him standing there.

"Not quite. I need something to keep me occupied. Dealing with kings can be tedious."

"I'm sure you're right."

He snapped the book shut and waved it in front of her. "This better be worth it, dearie, or I'll have you pay for it."

The Corsair, Belle saw and smiled. "If you don't like it, I promise to read something I'm sure to despise."

"Deal." He gave her a little bow and then vanished in a puff of purple smoke. She stared at the space he'd left and whispered out, "Goodbye."

Belle had always thought herself as a solitary creature. Her favorite pastime was sitting in a comfortable chair with a book. Most of the noble daughters enjoyed balls, dancing, riding, even sewing to wile away their days. Belle could dance a waltz, sit upon a horse, and stitch a decent sampler, but none of those activities suited her.

However, she found she did not enjoy the solitude she had inside the Dark Castle. She had never felt lonely back home, probably because she was never really alone. There were always servants nearby or people in the village who came to trade or ask for support from her father. With both Rumplestiltskin and Cora gone, the castle was completely still. There was such eerie silence that Belle hurried through her chores in order to get the feel that there was some life in the stone walls. Not even a book could distract her from the emptiness.

It was cold and snowy outside, but Belle needed to be out in the grounds and away from the silence. She used the cloak Rumplestiltskin had given her to keep her from freezing, but her dress was so ruined already it hardly did any good. She wouldn't stay for long, just long enough to feel more at ease.

Aside from the chilly air, it really was quite lovely. The statues were coated with frost and snow. The bushes and hedges all looked like fluffy white pillows. The garden paths were slippery, but sparkled in the sunlight. The Marchlands had very mild winters, mostly frost with maybe a little snow here and there. She had dreamed of gardens preserved in ice, icicles hanging from branches like jewels, and snow large enough to bury a man. It all looked like a fairy garden. It was breathtaking.

She followed the maze of hedges until she stumbled upon a small gated area. The iron bars were covered in ice, but still rather imposing. She couldn't see much inside. Just a tree and more snow, but her curiosity was pricked. She pushed at the gate, but it wouldn't budge. Some of the doors in the castle worked in the same way. However, the gate did move slightly when she pushed again.

The ice coated the hinges of the gate, freezing it in place. Belle tried picking at it with her hands, but her fingers were too numb. There were some rocks used the line the edges of the path. She stole one and proceeded to bash it up against the ice until the hinges squeaked open.

It was a little square space, full of snow and one large weeping willow. Perhaps there were flowers in here, buried beneath the snow. Right now the only flowers in the whole garden were snowdrops planted along the path in certain spots. Still, this place had to hold something beyond the willow.

She did enjoy walking on the snow, even if it made her slippers wet. She had never really played outdoors during the winter time, or any time for that matter. The daughter of Sir Maurice was never allowed outside unless supervised by her nurse, Agnes and at least one guard. It didn't encourage friendships easily. It was part of the reason she turned to books for comfort.

A part of her wanted to play in the snow like she was child again, make snow angels, have a snowball fight, build a snowman, do all of the things she'd read about. But it wouldn't be any fun all by herself.

She was about to turn back towards the castle when her slipper hit something hard. It was like a rock, but it had a sharp edge to it not naturally made. Belle used her foot the kick the snow aside. She was right, it wasn't a rock but some sort of slab.

Belle looked around her at the small space, gated and protected. She had an inkling what this place was now. Uncaring for the cold and wet, Belle sank to her knees and started to shove the snow away with her hands. Her arms became frozen sticks of ice, but she didn't care. When it hurt too much, she broke off a branch from a pine tree outside of the gated area to sweep the last of the snow away.

It was slab of black marble flecked with gold veins. There were words carved into it's face. Belle used the sharp end of her branch to dig the last of the snow out of the letters. She stood at the foot of the slab and read:

Here, freed from pain, secure from misery, lies

A child, the darling of his parents' eyes:

A gentler lamb ne'er sported on the plain,

A fairer flower will never bloom again.

Few were the days allotted to his breath;

Now let him sleep in peace his night of death.

She was right. This spot wasn't a garden, it was a grave. A small grave for a child.

It reminded her of another grave. Two, actually. The illness had swept through the village, many had gotten sick including her mother and three-year-old brother. They had died within hours of the other. She had held little Gabriel in her arms until his body had cooled. She hadn't even realized her mother was gone too until they came to take him away.

Gabriel had a grave next to her mother's and it wasn't dissimilar to the one she stood at now. But her brother's was labeled with his name as well as an epitaph. This grave was only marked with a lovely poem. Who lay in peace in this small space covered with snow and guarded by a willow tree?

"Poor boy," she whispered to the slab. She remembered when they put Gabriel in the ground, how she had begged and pleaded them to put his bear with him so he wouldn't get lonely. She had gone every day for three months to bring flowers to their graves. Later she'd still brought tributes to them on the anniversary of their deaths and on Gabriel's birthday.

Belle took off her cloak, hardly feeling the cold anymore and laid it over the granite. "I'll be back," she promised the empty air. She didn't wander far, just to the nearest patch of snowdrops. She picked a bundle and tied them together with one of the bare willow branches. She placed the bouquet on the slab of marble.

"There," she said with a smile, "I always liked snowdrops. I hope you do too. I bet you were a nice boy. It's a shame I don't know you're name. I'm Belle. I don't know much about the Otherworld, but if you meet my brother please tell him I love him. Maybe you could play together there."

She told the boy more about her long dead brother and how dear he had been to her. She would have stayed longer, but sleet began to pour down from the sky. It was time to return to the castle.

She gathered up her snow covered cloak and left the little graveyard. The paths were slippery before, now they were treacherous. She slipped twice, further ripping her once lovely gown. All she wanted to do was get inside, make a pot of tea, and read before the kitchen fire. She couldn't feel her toes anymore and was considering taking off the remains of her dress and just wearing her chemise to let her gown dry. No one would see her anyways.

Belle stopped when she reached end of the gardens. Cora stood just inside the doorway dressed in velvet burgundy with a black cloak fluttering behind her like a pair of dark wings. Belle felt the breath freeze within her lungs.

"Hello, pet," Cora said with a smile curling her lips, "Enjoying the gardens?"

"Yes, Mistress," Belle said, "I had finished my chores and I wanted a bit of fresh air. I was going make some tea, would you like some?"

"No," Cora said still smiling. Unlike Rumplestiltskin's grin, there was nothing good in the way her lips curled upwards. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. "You like the gardens, don't you, pet?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Even though they are covered in snow and ice?"

"Yes, mistress."

Cora let out a "hmm" and cast her eyes to the sleet coming down and the ice covered paths behind Belle. "I think the garden would look much better if the paths were clear, don't you agree, pet?"

"If you say so, mistress."

"Since you enjoy being outdoors so much, you can clear the paths for me."

Belle's mouth dropped open. She became aware of every ache and chill in her body, the numbing sensation in her hands and feet and what way the sleet froze in her hair. "But, mistress, it's freezing out here. I couldn't possibly—."

"You chose not to do chores and to play outside, so you can do work out here if that is your will."

"But I'll—."

"You dare to challenge me, pet!" Cora snapped, "I am your mistress! You follow my commands or you may face my punishment. Is that what you would prefer?"

Belle didn't want to imagine what Cora's punishment would be. Probably to spend the night outside or strapping her to a tree and whipping her until her back was a bloody mess. Of course she could lack the imagination Cora would put into the punishment. She could never tell what Cora was thinking.

"No, mistress," she said, ducking her chin into her chest. Tears threatened to spill but they would surely freeze on her cheeks. She didn't want to let Cora know how this hurt her.

"That's a good pet." Cora held out her hand and shovel appeared in it. She tossed it at Belle, the metal was cold and stung her numb hands. "Now get to work."

Belle bit her lip so hard she could taste blood, but she didn't feel the pain of it. If Rumplestiltskin were here he would never let Cora do this. He had stopped her from sending her out in the cold before, but he wasn't here now.

Belle set the shovel to the path and started to scoop up snow. Most of it was ice that the blade just scraped over. She had never done this before, never seen it done either. Snow was so scarce in the Marchlands that Belle doubted her father's gardener's would know how to shovel snow either. She tackled it as best she could, but she knew even if she had the skill she would not be able to finish the job before dinner. The sleet eventually stopped, but by then she was coated with ice and she could barely lift the shovel. Her fingertips were turning blue.

It was dark when Cora appeared. "I see you didn't finish."

She hadn't even gotten halfway done. Would she make her shovel through the night? If she did she would be dead by morning.

"Go to your cell," Cora instructed, "You will have no supper tonight for your failure."

Belle wasn't hungry anyway. She was just relieved that she wasn't going to freeze to death out there with a shovel in her hand. Her dress was soaked all the way through and was stiff from the ice. The blast of warm air from the castle stabbed at her skin like tiny needles. She could feel the prickles running up and down her arms and legs, but it still wasn't enough relief. The dungeon was also cold. Not as cold as outside, but still not the warmth she so desperately needed. Belle took off her gold gown and spread it out on the floor. Her chemise was wet as well, but it wasn't nearly as bad as her gown. She wrapped the blanket around her body and curled herself into a ball on the corner of her pallet.

"Please, Rumplestiltskin," she whispered to the cold air, "Come home."

The sun didn't wake Belle the next morning, the scratchy feeling in her throat did. Her head felt full, like it was a waterskin bursting at the seams. If her nurse, Agnes, was here she would tuck Belle into a nice warm bed with hot soup, tea, and some herbs. By morning she would be better. But Agnes wasn't here. Only Cora.

Belle knew the sorceress would not feed her any home remedies. She would have to simply hope it would pass quickly.

The kitchen had prepared another lovely breakfast, but this time for one. Rumplestiltskin had still not returned. She walked slowly, feeling as if she was moving through syrup. The kitchen was warm as ever, but she still found herself shivering. It was a struggle to make the tea over a hacking cough that began to weaken her.

She nearly dropped the tray when she made it to the serving hall, causing the tray to rattle when she tried to place it on the table. The cream pitcher fell over and spilled on the tray.

"My, aren't you clumsy this morning," Cora said, apparently witnessing the whole thing as she walked into the room.

"I'm sorry, mistress," she said, "I'm not feeling very well this morning."

"Oh, so that is your excuse? You look fine to me."

Belle did not feel fine at all. Her body was wracked with chills and it felt like her lungs had turned into lead. But Cora was not the sympathetic type. She wouldn't let her have a day of rest. She would just have to go about her day carefully and wait until Rumplestiltskin returned. Surely he could give her some remedy.

Cora didn't send her back outside to finish the gardens, but she did instruct Belle to sweep and dust her rooms. All of the dust only made Belle's cough worse and started a sneezing fit. By lunchtime, she was certain she would never breathe properly again. She just needed to sit for a minute, just a moment so she could gather her strength. She took up one of the chairs and set her chin in her hand.

"Wake up!"

Belle started awake. Cora was standing before her with her hands on her silk clad hips, her talon like nails digging into the fabric. "How dare you sleep in my room, you lazy chit!"

"I'm sorry, mistress," Belle said, "I'm not feeling well. I just needed to—."

"I'm tired of your excuses! You're not a noble anymore, pet, you are a slave! Remember that as you wash scrub the entire staircase!"

It was a horrid punishment. Not only would the lye sting her hands again, but she was sure to be soaked by the end of the chore. Belle had to start from the top of the long, winding staircase and work her way down. It took eight bucketfuls to finish, but at least this time Cora didn't purposefully spill anything.

It was late now and Belle knew she was worse. Her throat pained her so much she could hardly swallow and now she felt so lightheaded every time she turned her head. She hadn't seen Cora in hours. Maybe she could go down to her cell and sleep for a few moments, or perhaps sit in the kitchens. It was warmer there and she couldn't stop shivering with her wet clothes and aching head.

The walk to the kitchen felt like a thousand leagues. She had just sat down when Cora once again breached her peace. "Oh there you are," she said with false warmth, "My husband has returned and he wants tea. I'm going out again, but I expect my bath to be ready when I return tonight."

"Yes mistress," Belle said, trying not to cry.

She held her head in her hands as she waited for the kettle to boil. The screech it made felt like a knife cutting through her skull. Belle filled the teapot and prepared the tray. Her arms shook as she carried the tray that must way a thousand pounds now.

Rumplestiltskin was sitting at the table, his hands steepled before him. "What took you so long, dearie?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I'm a bit tired." She set the tray down carefully this time and poured him a cup. The heat from the tea was like heaven to her cold hands.

"You look terrible," he said, a frown creasing his brow.

"I'm just a little tired," she said again, "I'm sure I'll be better to—." Another wave of dizziness came over her, far worse than before. She felt herself sway on her feet.

"Belle?" Rumplestiltskin called her name, but she could barely hear him over the roaring in her ears. It sounded like thunder. The whole room was spinning and then fading away. "Belle!"

She felt herself falling and then there was nothing.

Rumplestiltskin disappeared from his chair and reappeared just beside Belle, catching her just before she hit the floor. Her body felt like it was boiling from the inside out. He could feel the dampness in her dress. "You damned, stupid girl!" he cursed. She should have said something before!

She hadn't been ill before he left. No, she'd been the picture of health, blooming cheeks and shining blue eyes. Now she lay as still as death in his arms. He magicked them her cell and he carefully placed her on the bed, tucking the blanket around her. It wouldn't be enough. She needed more warmth. A flick of wrist left her covered in a thick, down comforter and turned her gown into a warm nightgown. A little wood burning furnace stood by the window now to take out the extra chill.

He sent himself to his laboratory and got to work making the right potions he would need. Healing was an art he'd learned early on when he first became the Dark One. It was one of the things he was most called for, to heal the sick and prevent death. Belle wasn't that far, but left to her own devices she very well could. He wasn't sure who he was more angry with, Belle for not saying anything sooner or Cora for letting her get so ill.

Actually, he knew exactly who was to blame here. He would deal with his wife later, for now he had work to do. He had to be careful, the sick couldn't handle a large price so that required only a minimum of healing magic. Mostly it was special herbs and a few secret ingredients most would rather no know went into the mixture.

But it would take more than just the potion to make Belle well again.

The elixir didn't take too long. He found Belle curled up on her pallet, having kicked off her blankets and now shivering once again. "Stubborn chit," he chided her though she couldn't hear him.

He put his arm around her shoulders and lifted her up. "Drink this," he told her, pressing the cup to her lips. The green liquid was slightly frothy and he knew it was bitter. She choked on it and tried to bat him away. "Listen to me," he hissed at her, "You will drink this or you will die, now drink it!"

He was never known for his bedside manner.

It took more coaxing with a mostly unconscious Belle, but she finally drained the cup. It would take some time before it began to take effect so he set himself up as her nursemaid. "Don't get used this," he warned her as he put a cool cloth on her forehead.

She let out a groan. "Agnes?"

"What?" he asked her.

"Go away. Gabriel needs you."

"Who's Gabriel?" He remembered her behemoth of a betrothed had a name like that, but it wasn't Gabriel. Some other suitor perhaps?

"I'll go back tomorrow," Belle mumbled again.

"I highly doubt you'll be going anywhere for a few days, dearie," he said with a snort. Why he was having a conversation with a feverish girl was beyond him. She really was a pitiful sight, pale with sweat darkened temples and clammy skin. She had looked worse in that dilapidated ball gown. She had looked beautiful in that dress in her father's council chamber, he'd wanted to let her watch as her finery faded away. That was when he thought she was like all of the other's noble's. Now…now he realized he'd helped her get this way.

"I'm sorry, Belle," he whispered to her. He would make this right. He would make sure she never went cold or ill in this castle ever again.

The potion was doing it's work. Her fever was beginning to fade and she stopped shivering. She curled up into the blankets with one hand pillowing her cheek. She would sleep for a while and feel much better when she woke. One brown curl, now lanky from her illness, fell over her eye. He brushed it away with his fingers. She leaned into his touch, curling her body towards his warmth. Foolish girl, but he couldn't deny the sick.

He lifted her up so she could lay her head in his lap. He indulged himself with finally running his fingers through her silky hair. "Gabriel," she said that name again in her sleep, "watch over him."

He didn't know who she was talking about, but she was stirring again, making desperate sounds. He waved his free hand over her head, whispering for her mind to be filled with sweet dreams. He sat with her until the last of her fever cooled.

Rumplestiltskin waited in the darkness of Cora's bedchambers. Belle was sleeping now. He knew his potion would give her a restful sleep for the rest of night and well into the next morning. She wouldn't be better tomorrow, but she would be on the mend. A full day of rest and she would be back to the way she was before. But some things were going to change.

He sat there in the dark with only the glow of his pipe and the fire in the fireplace as the only source of illumination. Not even the wheel could soothe him right now. He left Cora to her own devices for the most part, but she'd gone too far now. As so he waited for his wife to return to what ever business she attended too. A part of him wondered who had replaced the now dead prince in her bed? Perhaps the twin brother, though he had a feeling the twins were not cut from the same cloth.

It was a marvel, that. The brothers had identical faces, even identical voices, but he could feel the differences in them even when they'd been squalling infants. One brother was made of gold, jewels, and everything sparkly and vein. The other was made of wool, dirt, and things of the earth that were hardworking and strong. In some ways, Rumplestiltskin understood it. He rarely looked in the mirror, but sometimes he stared at his own reflection and couldn't understand what stood before him. He hardly remembered the poor cowardly spinner he used to be, but sometimes he wasn't even sure what type of monster he was now.

Cora breezed into her room looking as lovely as ever in midnight satin and diamonds. He had promised her he'd shower her in gold when they married. He remembered when he first saw her imprisoned in King Xavier's tower with only a spinning wheel and straw as company. The lust had boiled within him as he taught her how to spin the straw into gold. In his three hundred years of existence, he had never felt such a powerful bout of desire. Now he wondered where it had all gone. He looked at her clad like some dark empress and he didn't even have a tingle of lust coursing through him. What he felt was fury.

"My my, well you certainly look like a demon sitting there in the dark," Cora said without even a hint of nervous air to her, "I have a feeling you have a monstrous temper tonight as well. What is it this time?"

Rumplestiltskin took another puff of his pipe. "Did I not say that the girl was not to be harmed?"

"You did," Cora said, "And last I saw her she wasn't bleeding or maimed at all."

"Did you happen to notice she was terribly ill?"

"I didn't believe a trifling cold was deadly."

"She collapsed while serving me tea," Rumplestiltskin hissed, abandoning his pipe and his chair, "What about that seemed trifling?"

Cora only lifted her brows slightly. "And I'm sure you poured your potion's down her throat in an hour's time. She's probably in the kitchens now, hoping to find some other way to gain your sympathy."

"Don't pretend like you've been wounded here, Cora! You made sure she would get sick! You wanted her to die!"

"Give me more credit than that, Rumple," Cora said, "Do you really think I would have sent her upstairs to serve you if I wanted her to die? I only found her wandering outside so I set her to work. I didn't realize her condition was so delicate that she would be on the brink of death because of a chilly wind."

He knew it was more than a brisk wind that had reduced Belle to such a sorry state. He would ask the girl when she had recovered, but for now he had to deal with this. "I said you could have use of her, but if you insist on harming her than perhaps I should reserve her for my own use."

Cora stopped unpinning her hair and whirled around to face him, her hands set squarely on her hips. "Oh, really? So you admit it at last. You did bring that girl here to be your mistress. Well, I said you could fuck any woman you wanted, go right ahead. I'm sure her cunt will be pleasing to you, though her experience is rather limited. But I won't have her staying here. Send her home to her father and dally with her there or any other place. I won't have any of your sluts in my home."

Rumplestiltskin clenched his fists, his teeth grinding together as she spoke. He had given her his home when they married, but she was the one who had decided his bed wasn't good enough. He had resigned himself to that a long time ago, but he'd never liked it. Now with Belle here Cora seemed determined to make him follow the same path as her. Well, he had vowed fidelity to her. Just because she had chosen to break her vows didn't mean he would.

"First of all, I have no intention of bedding the girl," he said. Desire was another matter, but those feelings were small and harmless. "Second of all, if you want to clear all the sluts out of my home then you best pack your bags too, Cora, or have you forgotten how we began?"

"Oh, I do believe you are still stung by my pursuits," Cora said now with some amusement, "I only do it because it is my most valuable weapon. You're appearance provokes fear, mine is lust. They don't mean anything, Rumple. I have only ever loved you."

He heard her words, but there was something off. She spoke them, she believed them, but that didn't make them true. He really didn't know what to believe anymore.

"Belle will need all of tomorrow to recover," he said, "She should be better after that, but you will never put her in harms way again. If you do then I'll have to find some way to punish you. Perhaps I'll give Snow White my aid in her fight against you."

Cora gasped and her cheeks burned with such color that it actually ruined her beauty. "You wouldn't dare! Not after how I begged you to help me and you refused!"

"It's true, I have no quarrel with the exiled princess," Rumplestiltskin admitted, "her family has always been a thorn in your side, not mine. But if you continue to try and ruin my possessions, then I'll have respond in kind."

"I would never forgive you!" she spat.

"Forgiveness was never our strong suit to begin with," he reminded her, "Consider yourself warned, dearie."

He took his pipe and magicked himself out of the room before she could hurl her jewelry box at him. He could hear her destroying her bed chamber as he took up the wheel in his own room. Let her grumble, he thought. Soon he would check on Belle again, but for the rest of night he spun and let the wheel take his thoughts away.

Before Belle even opened her eyes she knew she felt strange. She had dreamed of being with her mother and little Gabriel the entire night. No wicked sorceresses, ogres, or dark entities interfered with her sleep. She didn't wake up from the cold, damp, or even eerie silence. The last thing she remembered was serving Rumplestiltskin tea, or actually trying to serve him. Then it was all a dark slate.

She had been ill, she knew that, but she didn't feel cold anymore. A part of her was afraid to open her eyes. Had she died? Was that why she could hear some warm fire crackling close by and the comforting weight of a thick blanket covering her? But that didn't seem right. The Otherworld wasn't supposed to be simply warmth and the absence of feeling. She couldn't be dead.

Belle cracked open her eyes and saw she was still in her dungeon cell, but it had changed. Now a little wood burning furnace crackled merrily in the corner. A deep red blanket covered her from her chin to her toes. A thick pillow stuffed to the brim with feathers supported her head. She still felt strange, almost hollow but not hungry.

"Ah, I see you're finally awake."

Belle sat up, but her body felt so heavy that she wound up sinking back down. Rumplestiltskin flicked his wrist and more pillows appeared, propping her up so she was in a sitting position.

"My potion is speeding up your recovery," Rumplestiltskin said. She saw he had a tray with him with a two boiled eggs, a bowl of porridge and a plate of bacon as well as tea. "But your body still needs to heal. By morning, you will be better. Today you rest."

"But Cora—."

"I am master here, dearie," he chided her gently as he put the tray in her lap, "I told Cora no harm may come to you. Her jealousy knows no bounds it seems. If she tries to punish you for this or force you into a chore that will hurt you, call my name and I will stop her."

"You don't have to fight my battles for me," Belle said.

"Do you really think you're strong enough to face her, dearie?" He eyed the limp way she held her spoon. Fine, she was weak at the moment but she wasn't going to let him feed her as well.

"I'll never know if I don't try," Belle said, "but I appreciate your help, and most of all your kindness."

Rumplestiltskin let out a snort. "I'm not kind."

"Oh really? And what do you call all of this?"

"Necessary additions for your survival," he said, "I have been remiss. I do not need all of this to live, unlike you. I had forgotten."

Was that why he hadn't given her clothes or extra blankets? He had forgotten what it was to be mortal, to be human. She wondered how old he really was. She had heard of him all her life, but she knew Cora wasn't nearly as old as him. The rumors were she was a miller's daughter in the late King Xavier's kingdom and was due to marry the Prince Henry after she had proven her worth by spinning straw into gold. But then she did the unthinkable and murdered King Xavier and married the Dark One instead. Belle had only heard these rumblings from her father's knights who had liked to try and frighten her with scary stories. Her nurse, Agnes, had discovered this and made sure she never heard a word about the Dark couple until the ogres came and there was no hope but darkness.

"Thank you," was all Belle could say.

"Next time, speak up, dearie," he said gruffly, "I may be powerful, but I'm not a mind reader. You won't be punished because you are lacking in something you need."

"I wasn't…" she stopped. No, her fear wasn't an excuse. She may have been afraid of how Cora would react, but she knew Rumplestiltskin wouldn't begrudge her occasional request. No, this was her own foolish pride. Instead of pretending that she had something to prove by wearing her ragged gown, she should have asked him for new clothes and maybe something to warm up her drafty room. "I didn't want to cause trouble," she admitted at last.

"Cora causes the trouble here. You're here to clean it up." He said it in his sing-song voice that told her he was teasing. Belle gave him a trembling smile, she was still weak to fully express herself.

"With that in mind, I found these for you." He beckoned with his finger towards a trunk in the corner she had failed to notice before. The trunk slid towards him and opened at his command. Belle could see dresses inside, lovely clothes though not nearly as fine as anything Cora had or what her gown used to be. But they were sturdy garments made of cloth that would resist wear and tear. There were also nightgowns, shoes, wool and silk stockings and other necessary clothes she needed. How it all fit into the trunk she couldn't imagine, perhaps by magic.

"Oh, thank you!" she gasped when she saw the sight. At last she would be able to work in this castle without tripping over her hem or freezing in her light, summer silks.

"No thanks are necessary. I can't have my maid dying in less than a month here," he said, waving the trunk back to the corner. It reminded her of when he had first shown her the library for her to "clean". She knew this wasn't about keeping her safe and comfortable. He felt guilty for what had happened and now wanted to make amends.

"It wasn't your fault," Belle said, "Cora was the one who ordered me work in the cold, not you."

Rumplestiltskin made a puzzled look appear on his face. "I know that, why would you think that should matter to me? I'm only trying to preserve what belongs to me."

Belle only smiled back over her tray. Yes, and she was quite certain all of his possessions received the same care he was giving her. The dust and neglect was entirely imaginary.

"Finish your breakfast, dearie. Tomorrow I'll work you to the bone. Don't get used to this attention from me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said, hiding her smile with her teacup.

Rumplestiltskin left Belle when she went back to sleep. He made sure she had a pile of books with her as well so she would be entertained if she woke up before he checked on her again. Cora was gone once more. She'd left her bedchambers in shambles and stormed out without telling him where she was off to now. He couldn't bring himself to care.

All of this left him feeling restless and unsettled. The wheel wouldn't help, not for now. He ventured out into the gardens instead. The snow had returned, but he could see some of the paths were not as deeply covered as others. So that is what Cora had forced Belle to do. She's lucky she didn't freeze to death. He reached into the magic that bound that castle and instructed for it to always keep the garden paths clear. Cora would never again force Belle to do such a task, no matter how much it snowed.

He didn't tarry in his quest. He knew exactly where he was going. The willow tree was still ensconced behind the iron fence. The snow was piled high all around it and it's drooping limbs were covered in fluffy snow. It had been his favorite place, to play there inside the curtain of leaves in the summer. He'd made snowmen under those tangled branches during the winter. It had only seemed right to lay him to rest here.

No magic lingered in this place. The other gardens were already clearing of snow, but not this one spot. Here Rumplestiltskin did all of the work himself.

Except he didn't have to.

The snow wasn't completely clear hear, but neither was it thick. Someone had swept the grave clean, even dug the ice out of the engravings. At the foot of the marble slab was a little bundle of something covered in ice. Rumplestiltskin picked it up, not feeling he cold in his hands.

Snowdrops, bunched together in a bouquet. They were wilted now and limp from the ice and snow. The gesture was still the same regardless of their dying beauty.

Someone had been here. Not only that, they had cleaned the grave and left an offering of flowers there. Who had done that? Belle didn't know about this place. That left only Cora.

His wife had never come here before, not since they first put him in the ground. It was his hands that had tended this place over the years. Why had she come now? He wasn't sure what to think of her most of the time. True, most of their problems had occurred after their loss. Was this her attempt to make amends? Or was this a part of her grief returning from whatever place she'd hidden inside of her.

Rumplestiltskin stood there with dozens of questions racing inside of his brain, the icy snowdrops remained clutched in his hand. Such an odd choice of flower for Cora, considering her hatred for Snow White. He still couldn't quite believe that it was her who had come here, but who else could it have been? Who indeed.

A/N: So, what do you think happened? Who is buried in the grave? Please share your thoughts, I love to hear them.

Next chapter: Rumplestiltskin finds himself in a conundrum and needs Belle's help, forcing them to embark on a bit of adventure that brings them even closer.