Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A/n: Handwithquill (that lovely dearie) prompted this on her tumblr blog:

You know how we have all these fics where Gold somehow 'Wins' Belle in a card game? Do we have any of the opposite?

Like Milah is out at the pub and gets into a card game/some game of chance and those she's playing with realize she doesn't have enough money to keep playing or she just doesn't care or bets her husband Rumple. Belle is her opponent or just doesn't like the way she's talking about him and wins. Or how ever you want it to go, just Belle wins Rumple in a game of chance

Challenge accepted! Hope you enjoy :D

Tags: *Woobie Rumpel, *Belle, *Milah, *Baelfire, *High stakes, *Gambling, *Card Game, *Milah bets her husband in a game with Belle, *Milah is horrible, *Angst, *Smut, *Sweetness & Fluff too! *Non-Magic AU

Summary: Using the last of her spinner husband's wages, Milah sets off for a night of drinking and gambling at the tavern. She bites off more than she can chew when she agrees to a game with the Lady Belle. She ups the ante and bets her husband … and loses. What does the Lady Belle have in store for the sweet spinner?

A Game of Chance

By:

Charlotte Ashmore

I

"Seriously? This is it?" Milah asked, wrinkling her nose scornfully as she looked down at the handful of silver pieces in her hand. "Rumpel," she sighed wearily, as if the weight of the world were pressing upon her shoulders. "Why must you always be such a disappointment?"

The spinner set his basket down on the rough-hewn table, laden down with bread, cheese, cured meats and even a sweet for Baelfire. "M-Milah," he said, his soft sable gaze pleading with her, "this is the best day I've had at the market in months. I sold all the thread I'd spun and dyed as well as the cloth you helped me with last week. I was able to purchase enough food to last us until the next market day." He didn't mention the one silver piece he'd hidden away from her in his boot. Should his son need something more, he wanted to make sure he could provide for the boy.

Rumpelstiltskin hung his head when she continued to glare at him. He knew she no longer loved him … she hadn't for a very long time. It had been different before the ogre war, when she'd believed him to be strong and brave, so proud to see him leave for war. It was the shame he'd brought home with him with which she couldn't seem to come to terms. No woman wanted a coward who would deliberately injure himself for a husband.

Now she used the few precious coins he was able to secure through his trade to drown her grief at the small tavern in their modest village. He supposed he should be thankful she cared for their son.

Finally, she pocketed the silver and walked to the door without another word, fetching her cloak and settling it about her shoulders. "Don't wait up, Rumpel. I may be late tonight."

"D-Do you have to go tonight?" he asked, casting a worried look at Baelfire where he played quietly on the hearth rug. "Won't you at least stay and have supper with us?"

Milah's lip curled as she turned to sneer at him. "Why would I choose to stay here with my poor miserable husband when a cool pint and a game of chance await? Who knows … perhaps I might meet a tall dark stranger who will fall madly in love with me and take me away from …" She cast a scathing glance about the cottage, "… all of this?" Her bitter laughter followed her out the door.

Rumpelstiltskin sat heavily on the bench seat at the table and tried to put on a brave smile for his six-year-old child. He refused to let Milah dampen his spirits … at least in front of his son. Yet his voice cracked just a bit as he beckoned to his boy. "Come, Bae, and see what Papa found for you at the market!"

Baelfire set his wooden soldiers aside – his favorite toy since his papa had carved them with his own hands while Bae watched in abject fascination – and took in the sadness his father tried so hard to hide. He climbed upon his lap and curled his arms about the spinner's neck. "Don't be sad, Papa."

Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes and buried his face in his son's neck. "How can I be sad when I have you, Bae, and your wonderful hugs?"

"Mama shouldn't be so mean to you." He leaned back and patted his father's unshaven cheek. "I love you, Papa. I'll never be mean to you."

He hugged the child close, dinner forgotten in the face of Baelfire's honest profession of love. "I love you, too, my boy."

Baelfire, sensing he'd made his father feel better, hopped onto the bench and pulled the basket closer. "What'd you bring me, Papa? Is it a sweet? Will it make me sticky?"

The spinner was able to forget his troubles as he watched the happiness spread on his son's face. He could push his worries to the back of his mind and bask in the boy's pleasure. He was worth it … Bae was worth everything.

*.*.*

Belle set her book aside on the seat next to her and peered out the coach window as the conveyance rolled to a jarring halt. "Fitzpatrick!" she bellowed in her lightly accented voice.

"Sorry, highness!" the coachman apologized for the hundredth time. He was always apologetic, yet it never seemed to change his heavy hands on the reins of the six matched greys.

She rotated her neck and rubbed at her nape to alleviate the stiffness and had just managed to sort herself out when Gaston opened the door and let the steps down. Her face fell as she got her first good look at the village, taking his hand as she descended the steps. "Does this place even boast an inn, Gaston? You are supposed to assure my safety as per Papa's wishes and if there's no inn … I am not sleeping in the coach again! So, if there's no inn, you'd best be seeing to a decent campsite to erect our tents."

The high princess of Avonlea straightened the midnight blue jacket of her traveling costume and smoothed her skirt as he led her towards the ramshackle establishment, his grin so wide she could see all his teeth. Her father had sent her off with a small retinue to attend her cousin Anna's wedding and the entire trip had been tedious in the extreme. She'd been so overwhelmed with her cousin and her ceaseless chatter, she thought it would be relaxing to see a bit of the realm on the way home. She couldn't have been more wrong.

At least Gaston – her dearest friend since childhood – seemed to be enjoying himself. The meager accommodations they'd been subjected to … well she hadn't minded … much. The food could have been better, she had to admit. They'd only been set upon by thieves once, but her brave knights had been able to chase them off fairly easily with the help of their outriders – soldiers all employed by her father. The worst thing to have befallen her was the loss of her maid who'd come down with food poisoning and had been forced to remain in Arendelle until she recovered. What else could she expect to bedevil them? Face it, Belle … you're a spoiled brat!

Could she help it if she longed for adventure of the likes of which she read about in her books? She should have just returned home and buried herself in the library again. There was little discomfort to be found there amongst her precious collection of tomes. She snapped back to attention when she realized Gaston had spoken to her. "I'm sorry, dear, what was that?" she asked, her cheeks tinged with a rosy glow.

"I said I sent Thorrin ahead to acquire a room for you. Therefore, you won't have to spend another night in the coach or your tent," he assured her. "According to my squire, there are rooms to be let above the tavern … which, I might add, is purported to offer a decent meal."

"And tea?" she asked hopefully. "Please tell me there will be tea." She despaired several villages past of ever finding a decent cup of tea before she reached Avonlea. At least when they camped, she was able to brew her own. Oh, the hardship!

The tavern wasn't different from any of the others she'd visited on her journey through the Frontlands. Actually, it was a bit cleaner than the last. It didn't sit well with her, however, that she was able to see the red glow which lit the skies through the open curtains on the windows. She didn't want to think of the poor souls fighting against the ogres at the front. The duke of the Frontlands was known to be a cruel man and would enlist practically anyone to fight his little war.

Gaston distracted her from her musings, leading her over to a small table in the corner and laying his cloak over the bench for her to sit upon. She smiled stiffly at him. It was nice she had him with her. She valued his protection nearly as much as his friendship, but sometimes she wondered if she were keeping him from living his own life, denying him the chance to find his own love and have a family of his own. He assured her over and over again he was more than happy in her service, but it did give her pause. She didn't want to be selfish when he'd been such a wonderful friend to her for longer than she cared to remember.

He settled on the bench opposite her, his position giving him a clear view of the door as well as the room at large. The princess's knights were spread out among the villagers who frequented the tavern, their eyes alert and wary as they tucked into a hearty bowl of stew and warm crusty bread provided by the amiable barkeep. They would be able to jump to their lady's defense should the need arise.

A petite blonde, more buxom than brainy, came over to their table and set down a portion of stew and a plate of the warm bread along with two flagons of mead. Belle smiled blissfully as the hearty aroma of tender lamb and root vegetables in a savory broth assailed her nose. "Oooh, it smells heavenly."

The blonde smiled. "Yeah, ol' Pete's a fairly decent bloke in the kitchen, milady. Is there anything else I mi' get fer ye?" Noise from the other side of the tavern caught her attention as it nearly drowned out what she was saying. "Oi, you lot! Keep it down over there."

"No, lovey, this'll do," Gaston said, casting her a million-watt smile. She blushed prettily, not used to having such fine specimens frequent their tavern very often. He nodded in the direction of the ruckus. "What's their story?"

The girl's face fell into a look of disgust. "That's Milah," she sneered, "th' spinner's wife. Sh' comes in at least once a week to gamble away 'er husband's hard-earned wages an' drink until she ken forget she's married to th' village coward. 'S really sad," she elaborated. "Rumpelstiltskin works 'ard to provide for her and their son and she doesn't appreciate it one bit."

Belle's spoon hovered near her mouth, food forgotten as she listened to the girl. "And he allows this?" she couldn't help from asking.

Gaston moved over on his side of the bench to make room for her as she sat down. "Do tell," he encouraged her.

The girl lowered her eyes demurely, but she couldn't hide the light of excitement in her eyes at the prospect of sitting next to the handsome knight. "I'm no' the type who cares for idle gossip …"

Belle snorted, but hid it behind her tankard as she took a sip of her mead. Sure, you're not, dear.

"…but I suppose I could tell ye. The mon sh' married, Rumpelstiltskin, he's al'ays been sweet an' timid, kind, mind ye. He never shoulda gone off to fight in th' war. He's th' only one of our men ta come back … injured himself to avoid th' fightin. Didna want his son ta grow up wi'out his father. Milah hasna been th' same since. I think th' only reason he stays is for th' sake o' his boy. Ye'll never see another father dote on a child more."

Belle's heart went out to the poor spinner and what he must have suffered to return to his family. And then to be scorned for it by the woman who should love him …

The blonde swung her head in the direction of the spinner's wife as she whooped again and pulled a small pile of winnings towards her. "I suppose sh' couldna deal with being th' wife of a mon branded a coward. Doesna excuse her actions though. Trollop!" She cast a doe-eyed look at the knight and blushed. "Beggin' yer pardon, sir."

"Marie! These drinks arna gonna serve themselves, girl!" Came a shout from the bar.

Gaston reached out and grabbed her hand as she hurriedly rose to her feet. "Perhaps when you're done here, lovey, you might consent to take a stroll with me through the square? I'd love to hear more of your lovely voice," he said in a sultry tone. It took everything Belle had not to choke on her stew. He was such a ham.

The girl dropped into a quick curtsy and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear as her blush deepened. "Oh, aye. I'd like tha'."

His dark ocher gaze followed Marie's gently swaying hips as she went back to work, a lascivious smirk curling his generous lips. It fell away as he turned back to Belle and noticed the deep furrow between her brows. He knew that look well and it never boded well for anyone. "Oh, hell," he grumbled into his stew, just waiting for her to voice her thoughts. He was more than a little surprised when she remained silent.

The princess drank deeply from her tankard, her manicured nails drumming thoughtfully against the rough surface of the table as she surreptitiously watched the dark-haired woman across the tavern. If the barmaid were to be believed, this Milah person was of the lowest dregs of society … or at least what served for society in this backwater village. How could any woman fault her husband for returning to her by any means necessary? If it were her, she'd have been grateful to have her husband back, the partner she'd chosen to spend her life with and help raise their children. A fiery blush rose in her cheeks as she gnashed her teeth together, fury over the injustice of it all rising to choke her.

"Belle," Gaston groaned. "I know what you're thinking, love. It's not your –"

She took another sip from her tankard, her eyes flashing hotly at him over the rim. "Don't tell me it's not my place to interfere, Gaz," she said in a neutral tone as she set the vessel down with more force than necessary. "I don't know to what you're inferring."

He sighed and pushed his empty bowl aside, reaching for the last piece of bread. "And you're forgetting that I know you better than most. Luc is going to have kittens if you start a feud with some lowlander."

"Pfft. Lucern doesn't concern himself with my affairs. He's too busy dogging our father's boot heels to pay attention to me and you know it," she scoffed. "Besides, my brother is more interested in that new bride of his just now."

Gaston chuckled softly, a teasing light in his eyes. "Yes, Lysette makes a wonderful new addition to the ranks of those hounding you to marry."

"Don't remind me," Belle grumbled. Her brother was to be king, had fulfilled his duty to marry and produce an heir, yet he still had the audacity to nag her to choose a husband. Well, she wasn't going to do it to please him, no matter how much she doted on her twin. No, she wanted love. She wanted the whole fairy tale, complete with a happily ever after. She would not be settling for a 'good match' as so many of her friends had. For her, it would be true love or nothing.

But it wasn't the thought of pending spinsterhood which worried her at that moment. Her need to teach that woman a lesson she'd not soon forget was what goaded her into letting loose her wily tongue. "Gaz, darling, why don't we join the party? Don't you think it would be great fun?"

He barely refrained from banging his head on the table. "Belle, I have a date."

"That's not until much later."

"I don't feel like gambling tonight," he persisted in his objections.

She waved a dismissive hand as she rose from the table. "It matters not, because I do. It shouldn't take very long to put her in her place," she smiled darkly.

"I don't know what Luc was thinking when he taught you how to play," he grumbled under his breath as he followed her across the room. He waved his men back to their seats, one look assuring them he had the situation well in hand.

Lucern and Belle were two of the wiliest card players in the palace. They reveled in being able to pull the wool over the eyes of visiting dignitaries. It wasn't that they wanted to win. They played for their own sport, their tells and silent looks – almost as if they could speak without words – the game rather than the cards they wielded so expertly, and they never lost when they joined forces. They were a force to be reckoned with, and this peasant woman … he actually felt sorry for what she was about to experience.

Belle stopped just short of the table where another of Milah's pigeons shoved himself to his feet and threw his cards down on its surface, reluctantly admitting defeat as his funds petered out. Gaston took his place and executed a short bow to the woman. "Pardon the intrusion, mistress, but my lady Belle would like to join you if you are amenable."

Milah drained her tankard of ale and bit out a shrill laugh. "'Amenable' eh? Such fancy speech." She shifted to see the lady in question hidden behind the hulking knight. She took in the fine velvet and silk the woman wore, sneering at the jaunty hat with its short gauzy veil and long blue feather perched atop perfectly coiffed chestnut curls. She sobered instantly as she felt the acute sting of jealously rise within her and sink its sharp claws into her gut. Rumpelstiltskin would never be able to provide such finery for her if he spun for a thousand years. "Why would such a fine lady want to play with me?"

Gaston shot her a winning smile, the same one he'd used to charm half the ladies in Avonlea … and their mothers. "We've been traveling for days and my lady finds herself quite bored. It would be a welcome respite to enjoy the companionship of another female, and I feel she might learn a thing or two from such a … skilled player," he said, plying her with flattery.

"She doesn't know how to play?" Milah asked suspiciously, once again eyeing the demure lady waiting patiently to see if she were going to be allowed to join the game.

Gaston shrugged. "I've taught her the basics," he whispered, leaning in closer to the woman, "but she's not very good." He was going to burn in hell for the sheer number of lies spilling from his lips. He reached into the leather pouch on his belt and withdrew a small drawstring sack of gold and silver coins, shaking it so she could hear the merry jingle. "I assure you, she can afford to play for a while."

Milah licked her lips as an avaricious light shone in her eyes. With what his pouch contained, she might be able to finally have enough to leave their wretched village and her cowardly husband far behind. She gestured to the empty seat which had been vacated earlier. "By all means, sir, have your lady join us." She looked at the two men who had remained after the last hand. "I'm sure you both wouldn't mind indulging such a fine lady?"

Belle settled into the chair Gaston held out for her as the men eagerly nodded their acceptance, seeing her as an easy mark. "You owe me, Bluebelle," he whispered into her ear. He bowed once more to Milah and moved to another table, sitting with his back against the wall and stretching his feet out on the bench to keep watch over her. And so, it began, he thought bemusedly.

Belle smiled sweetly as she thanked the woman. "This is so exciting. Gaz usually never lets me join in the fun … I don't play very well, I'm afraid."

Milah only smiled brighter and cast her a sympathetic glance. "Don't worry, dear, you just need the opportunity to hone your skills. We're all friends here."

Belle picked up the cards the gentleman to her left – Cuthbert, he'd introduced himself – dealt her and frowned. "You're sure we're only supposed to have five cards?"

Milah snickered behind her own cards as she straightened them to her satisfaction. "There are some games which require seven to a hand, but tonight we're only playing five." She took three silver pieces from the small pile of winnings before her and set them in the center of the table. "Alright, gents, ante up."

Belle held the little sack of gold and silver in her hands, biting her lip in consternation. Oh, how she was already enjoying herself. "Do you always bet so little? I'm sorry … that was rude of me."

"Don't worry, m'lady, I'm sure the pot will grow as we play," the gentleman to her right assured her.

The princess fought to keep the smirk off her face as she discarded three kings and picked up a pile of rubbish. She could afford to lull the woman into a false sense of security. And while she was at it, she kept a close eye on the two men on either side of her, constantly watching to make sure they didn't cheat. Milah was too confident in her skills to try such tactics … yet.

As the third hand came to an end and the small pile of winnings before the spinner's wife increased, Belle decided it was time to change her 'luck'. The men folded quickly, and the woman's brows shot up as Belle tossed several coins into the pot. Milah matched it and called.

Belle slowly laid her hand out on the table for her to see. "Is two kings and three aces a good hand?" she asked with false hesitancy. Inside she was smugly preening.

Milah's lips stretched into a tight smile as she laid her own hand on the table … two kings and a pair of twos. "Full house, dearie. You win."

Belle squealed happily, like a true novice and pulled her winnings from the center of the table and stacked them neatly before her. The act she put on for the spinner's wife was worthy of the stage, but she never allowed it to slip. The few glances she cast Gaston showed him to be anxiously chewing on his thumbnail, just waiting for her to slip and the woman to call her on her duplicity. He should know her better than that, but he worried regardless as he did every time she played.

The sun had dipped low over the horizon in the hours since they'd begun, and the peasant woman continued to tip her cup and lower her guard. Soon it was quite noticeable that Belle's pile of winnings far outweighed her own.

"I do believe I'm getting a bit better at this," the princess chuckled. Milah scowled and took the cards up as it was her turn to deal.

The cards flew deftly to land before each of the players and coins were added to the pot. Cards were discarded and more replaced them. Each of the players were intent in their focus and didn't at first notice the new voice which sounded in the din of the tavern. "Milah? Milah, dearie, it's getting late. You need to come home."

For the first time since she'd sat down at the table to play, Belle faltered. Her hands trembled slightly as she glanced up and saw him for the first time. It could only be the spinner with his troubled gaze focused so intently on the brunette sitting across from her. Everything about him appealed to her, from his long-fingered grasp on the walking staff he clutched so tightly in his right hand to his dark sable eyes and shaggy collar length hair. He was wonderful and she felt the breath freeze in her chest. She blinked and dropped her gaze to her cards, fighting to maintain her calm. What was wrong with her? She'd never had such a strong reaction to anyone as she did to this peasant.

Belle clenched her hands tightly about her cards as Milah tsked her tongue scornfully. "Run along home, Rumpel. It's what you're good at."

"Milah, please," he said softly.

"I'm busy," she spat. "Let me finish this hand and then I'll consider your request."

The two men sitting with them, snickered loudly and tossed a few coins into the pot. They were used to Rumpelstiltskin having to come and fetch his wife back home.

Belle forced herself to remain calm when what she really wanted to do was slap the vicious little witch. It was then she realized she'd had enough. She glanced down at her cards. She had four queens in her hand. Luck was with her – as always – and she knew she could bring the hateful woman to her penniless knees with one bold move. "Well, since this is our last hand, I think I'm going to go out with a bang," she simpered, still playing her part.

"Think you have it, do you?" the spinner's wife asked, a calculating gleam in her eyes.

"Oh, yes! I'm going to go all in," she said gleefully, shoving every last coin she owned into the center of the table.

Milah's eyes widened, knowing she didn't have enough to match it. She knew she could beat the noblewoman with the four jacks she held tightly in her fist, and she could have wept. "I don't … I don't have enough to match you."

Belle's eyes grew cold and the simpering smile slid from her lovely features to show the woman she'd been bested. Yet as Milah's eyes widened, she couldn't help one more dig. "You could always bet something besides money. Surely an accomplished gambler such as yourself has a trinket or two you could throw into the pot to match my wager, or you could simply fold and admit defeat."

"I never lose," Milah hissed.

Belle's lips curled into a feral smile as she arched a perfectly sculpted brow at the woman. "Neither. Do. I."

Milah's hand landed atop Belle's as the princess moved to rake her winnings from the table and leave. "No, wait! I do have something." She licked her lips nervously as her gaze darted between the pile of gold and silver and her husband. "You can have him if you win," she screeched, pointing to her husband.

Gaston sprang to his feet and rounded the table to stand beside his lady. "Belle, you cannot accept a wager for a human … it's not done!"

"What?!" Rumpelstiltskin cried. "You cannae do that, Milah!"

Milah sneered at her husband. "Oh, don't worry, Rumpel. When have you ever known me to lose? I'm just using you to cover the wager and then we can go home."

Gaston was on the verge of panic. "Belle, think about this! You -"

The princess cut him off with the lifting of her elegant hand, a gesture for silence which was not to be disobeyed. "I accept … and I call."

Milah cackled with unsuppressed triumph as she laid her cards on the table and reached for the pile of winnings. "See, Rumpel, I told you not to worry."

"And it was false hope which you gave him," Belle said softly, her eyes tiny pinpricks of ice as she stared coldly at the spinner's wife. She laid her cards on the table to reveal her winning hand of four queens and a three of clubs. "Queens trump Jacks any day, dear. Or in this instance … a princess over a trifling witch."

"No! No, that's … that's impossible!" she shrieked.

"I assure you, it's not."

"You cheated. Somehow you tricked me!"

Belle refused to look at the spinner, instead focusing her gaze on his wife. She couldn't look over at him and see the devastation she knew would be written on his weathered features. "Gaston –"

"Papa!"

Rumpelstiltskin turned in horror as his son tugged on his homespun cloak. "Bae … what are you doing here, son? I told you to wait outside." He bent awkwardly and hugged the boy to him.

The only outward sign of Belle's inner turmoil was a gently twitching muscle in her jaw as she ground her teeth together. How could she have forgotten about the boy when she'd accepted Milah's wager? How could she in good conscience separate the man from his son?

Milah crossed her arms petulantly over her chest, her mouth twisted with scorn. "Fine! Take him. You'll see what an outright joy that is," she spat, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

Before Belle could respond, Rumpelstiltskin released his son and dropped to his knees at her feet, his long fingers clutching at her skirts. "Please, milady, please don't do this. Please don't take me away from my son," he pleaded, his large ocher eyes brimming with tears. He'd had to put up with a lot from his wife since he'd returned from the front injured and branded a coward. He'd accepted her hatred, her scorn, her belittling words as his due for his actions, but he never thought she'd stoop so low as to wager his life in a game of chance. If he somehow managed to talk his way out of this, he'd never be able to look upon her the same. "Please."

It was all Belle could do not to card her fingers through his hair and offer him her touch, her comfort. "I'm sorry. You belong to me now." A light of determination entered her eyes as she turned them on the woman. She ignored the muffled sob he emitted against the soft velvet of her skirts and offered her a new deal. "How much for the boy? You're so eager to break up your family, so delighted to rid yourself of your husband, why not your child? How much gold is he worth to you?"

Milah gaped at the noblewoman who'd bested her as Belle reached into her reticule and withdrew another handful of gold coins. She motioned for Gaston to add his own to the pile. "You can't be serious."

"I will also give over what's still on the table. It's a small fortune and will provide for you for quite some time."

"Papa, what's happening?" she heard the child whisper against his father's neck as he clung to him in fright.

"Belle, this is insane!" Gaston growled in outrage, refusing to look at the spinner still on his knees sobbing quietly.

"Enough!" she commanded. "I did not cheat or use any kind of trickery in the game. I won fair and square. It was not I who used a human being as collateral."

Milah stared at the pile of coins on the table for a long moment before furtively glancing at her husband and son. She'd finally done it. She'd finally procured enough gold and silver to leave their horrid village and seek adventure as she'd always wished … and now she was rid of the coward who wouldn't let her go. She was free! "I accept. He's better off with his father anyway," she said, sweeping the treasure trove of wealth into her gathered apron.

"Not so fast. You are not allowed to leave until we have a clear and binding contract … so have a seat," Belle sneered, her lip curling in disgust. She nodded to one of her knights who rushed to her side to prevent the spinner's wife from beating a hasty exit. "Thorrin, take Rumpelstiltskin to his home and have him gather his belongings and those for … Bae, was it?" Milah nodded, not looking at her son again who had begun weeping. "Bring them here when you're done. They can bunk with you. We'll be leaving at first light."

Gwain and Leon pushed the two men who'd witnessed the entire scene back down into their chairs while Merrick left to fetch parchment and quill for Belle to write out a contract. For the first time that evening, Belle felt the knot of tension in her stomach ease, knowing she was doing the right thing. This woman didn't deserve her spinner husband. He needed to be away from her bile in an environment where he and his son could flourish and grow.

Her smile was reminiscent of the cat who'd been served the freshest dish of cream in the land. She dipped the quill into the ink pot and touched it lightly to the parchment. "Now, where were we?"

A/N: Alright, dearies! What did you think of the first chapter? I'm dying to hear your thoughts, so please comment or review, yeah? Thanks so much, Quill, for this delicious prompt.