This story was inspired by Episode 14, in which Belle tells Dreamy "I've had my heart broken enough to know when someone is reaching out." To me, this meant that she has been in a failed relationship more than once. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Seen But Not Heard

The deal was struck with the clasping of hands and the signing of the document. It was a short deed, as far as marriage contracts went, specifying only that the hand of Princess Belle, daughter of King Maurice and Queen Elena was to be given to Prince James, son of King George and Queen Penelope, on her eighteenth birthday.

The finer points, such as the dowry, the re-establishment of boundaries and sharing of resources, would be discussed over the coming years and finalized exactly one year before the wedding.

The bride and groom to-be were strangely silent during the negotiations, raising their voices only when a soother had strayed from tiny lips or a bottom needed to be changed. The babes were laid together in a wide wicker basket and placed in the center of the ornate round table, while dignitaries and advisors casually discussed such mundane matters as Belle's virginity and number of children to be reared.

All in all, the two kings were quite pleased with the outcome. King George admired his counterpart's vast wealth and resources; the dowry would be substantial and could potentially save the Kingdom from financial ruin in the future. King Maurice, on the other hand, looked forward to the safety and protection his people would receive from the union. His villages were full of craftsmen and sailors, not soldiers. It would be a prosperous merger on both sides.

A baby's first word is one to be treasured forever. For most, it is a jumble of mismatched sounds loved ones swear sounded like actual words, such as mama or papa. Not for Belle. Her servants spent countless hours carefully enunciating syllables so that when she finally managed to sputter them out it was clearly recognizable. Her first word, as ordered, was James.

Despite the great distance that separated the betrothed couple, James quickly became the center of her life.

Belle's education included many subjects besides reading, writing and arithmetic. She had to learn the vast histories of both her own Kingdom and that of her future husband's. She was instructed in the art of polite conversation, mediation, and strategic thinking. It wasn't enough to learn everything there was to know to be Queen, she was required to learn everything there was to know about her fiancé.

Queen Penelope corresponded regularly, providing a vast amount of intimate knowledge of her son's likes, dislikes and interests. It was important that she be knowledgeable on those subjects that interest him the most. She was to study his accomplishments with both the sword and riding; she was to learn which foods he favored and how he took his tea.

After all, her tutors would remind her, she wasn't just going to be Queen someday; she was going to be his Queen.

"You look beautiful, my sweet," said King Maurice on her seventeenth birthday. "If only your mother were still alive. She worked so hard for this day and now that it has finally arrived it just doesn't feel the same without her."

"Thank you, Papa," said Belle as she smoothed the wrinkles from her new yellow gown. They had only just arrived at King George's palace that afternoon and her dress had not yet settled from the journey. "I'm sure she would have been very happy today."

He kissed her forehead lightly and took her arm in his. At the sound of the orchestra, they descended the long winding staircase. Dozens of nobles stood waiting at the bottom, all dressed in their finery. The women were frosted in jewels and the men drenched in gold. It was quite the sight to behold but Belle only had eyes for one.

James, dressed in a white silk shirt and red velvet jacket, waited patiently at the foot of the stairs, ready to take her hand. Their engagement was to be officially announced today, one year from the day they recite their vows. She had worked her entire life for this moment. She was giddy with anticipation.

"You are truly worthy of your name, Belle," he crooned as she placed her gloved hand into his own. He raised it to his lips and kissed it. She felt herself blush from head to toe.

In the seventeen years since the agreement was first signed, they had seen each other a total of four times, the most recent one being three years previously at the wedding of another royal couple. They had danced and shared the obligatory public kiss, but that was as much intimacy as they have shared.

Tonight everything would change. Tonight they would be officially engaged.

"Belle, darling," sung Queen Penelope, "your dress is simply stunning! Just think how nice it would have been had you aired it out properly."

Queen Penelope was known for her thinly veiled insults. Belle had enough contact with her over the years to know that she could never live up to the Queen's expectations. No one, in her mind, would ever be good enough to marry her son.

"Come now, dear," chided King George. "Belle is such a natural beauty that she could wear rags and still be considered the fairest of them all."

"Of course, darling," she murmured, sending him a dark look. She took Belle's arm and led her to a table filled with hors d'oeuvres, canapés and punch. "I do hope you had a chance to study my last letter. It contained some very important information about James's most recent exploits. We can't have you appearing ignorant, dear. You must at least give the impression of being intelligent."

Stunned at the outright disrespect of the Queen, Belle freed her arm and made her way towards her father, not caring if her behavior was considered rude. How dare she! Belle was a member of the royal family for goodness sakes!

King Maurice was already into the champagne, his cheeks pinking slightly. James also had a glass but it seemed untouched. Apparently her future husband was not much of a drinker. That was a relief to know. As much as she adored her father, she was becoming increasingly concerned about his drinking since the death of her mother.

Belle spent most of the evening dancing with older men she had never met. Queen Penelope assured her that they were all important political allies and should not be snubbed. She herself declined several invitations, however, always pawning them off on the bride-to-be. At least Belle enjoyed dancing. It was one of the few times she truly felt free!

James spent most of the evening in the company of his knights, standing in the corner and taking discreet sips from a flask that was being passed around. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy when she spotted him ogling a pretty servant presenting him with mead. Perhaps he was just as jealous of the men she danced with? The thought was more comforting than convincing.

They were due to be 'presented' at midnight in front of everyone as the two Kings shook hands and congratulated one another. It was tradition for the Prince to take his future betrothed aside privately and ask for her hand in marriage, as if she had any choice in the matter. It was merely a formality but one that Belle had been anticipating her entire life.

By eleven, James had barely spoken her. He was no longer hiding his drink from the guests but clearly enjoying it openly, now singing a jaunty tune with his mates. She could make out a few words, something about a ship being docked by several sailors. Perhaps it was a fishing song.

By eleven thirty her feet ached from dancing and she was feeling more than a little neglected. She decided that if he wouldn't take initiative then she would.

"James?" she asked cautiously, squeezing her way through the inebriated knights.

"There's my Beauty!" he cried drunkenly, wrapping his arms possessively around her waist. "What do you think, boys? Will she do?"

They laughed raucously and elbowed each other in the ribs. They towered over her and several stared openly down the front of her dress. She felt her cheeks burn in shame and wished she had worn a more conservative gown.

"James, may we go for a walk? Alone?" she added.

"But we're having such a good time here, darling," he slurred, winking at his friends. "Why don't you keep us company for a while?"

She felt a light tap on her bottom which made her jump in surprise. Both of James's hands were in her sight. Whose hand had just stroked her?

"I insist, James!" she scolded, leading him towards the door.

"You hear that, men? She's nagging me already and we're not yet married!"

The last thing she heard as she dragged him through the doors to the garden was the unruly laughter of those sworn to protect their lands.

A few guests were wandering about the lit gardens, enjoying the heady scent of roses and a few moments of solitude. Belle walked past a couple in a passionate embrace but was too angry to feel sorry for destroying their romantic interlude. James clearly felt the same way.

"Leave us!" he commanded harshly, waving his arms drunkenly towards the ball.

The young couple scurried away, bowing deeply as they passed.

"What is your problem, my lady?" he demanded once they were alone. "You were very rude to my friends!"

"I was rude? You acted entirely inappropriately! I'm not one of your conquests, James. I am to be your wife and I demand to be treated with respect!"

His opened palm connected with the left side of her face so quickly she never had time to react. Her cheek stung where the slap had connected, bringing hot tears of shame to her eyes.

"You want to be treated like a wife?" he asked feverishly. "Fine. Let's begin tonight."

He grabbed her upper arm and dragged her past the gardens to the west wall, far from prying eyes and curious ears. He towered over her slight frame and she could no more fight him off than she could move mountains. Once safely enshrouded by darkness, he grabbed her chin in one hand and forced his lips to hers.

This was not like the chaste kiss they had once shared, nor the amorous embrace of the young lovers from the garden. This was powerful and aggressive. He tasted of drink and desperation. There was no love in it, only dominance.

"Stop it, James!" She attempted to struggle but he pressed his body against hers and held her tightly against the wall. "Stop right now or I'll scream!"

He pulled away slightly, using one hand to cover her mouth, forcing her face up to look into his eyes. "Hasn't anyone ever told you, Belle? Princesses are meant to be seen but not heard."

He pulled roughly at her dress, tearing the sleeves. "Now let's have a look."

Her arms were pinned, her dress hanging in tatters and no one could see or hear her. Desperate, she did the only thing she could. She kicked her knee up between his legs as hard as possible. As he crumpled to the ground she ran as fast as her heeled shoes could take her. Before she could even reach the safety of the light, however, he caught her around the waist and carried her away.

Rumpelstiltskin loved a good party. Tonight he had business to attend to, but he fully planned on joining the festivities near the end of the night. Queen Penelope was one of his best customers, obsessed with beauty and youth. He had provided her many potions and enchantments over the years but always ensured they were never everlasting, this one due to wear off around midnight.

After all, what type of a businessman would he be if he didn't ensure the future need of his services?

She was clearly jealous of her son's fiancé. Apparently the girl's name meant 'Beauty.' How can she be expected to compete with that? The glamour charm he placed on her this evening would ensure that no one could see the deep lines in her forehead nor the many laugh lines in her eyes. Surely nothing is that funny!

He was tempted to go see the young couple as well. The Prince-who-was-not-born-a-prince had been procured by him years ago and it had been some time since he had 'checked up' on him.

Despite his reputation, he never stole children and always insured they went to proper families. He liked to keep an eye on them once in a while to ensure that his 'gifts' were being properly cared for.

This one must be eighteen or nineteen by now, already a man. Well, he could at least get a peek at the bride, see what all the fuss is about.

He appeared in the gardens first, planning on making a grand entrance. He was nothing if not a showman. As he straightened his spiky dragon hide jacket, he was distracted by a muffled scream.

Knowledge is power. One never knew what information could be of use later on. With a pressing need to satisfy his curiosity, he abandoned the thought of joining the party and went in search of the noise.

He appeared on top of the tall north wall and used the height to his advantage. This area was not well lit but that was no problem for him. Darkness was his friend, his only companion. He thought the sound of scuffling was coming from the west where the walls over the cliff were not as high, offering a spectacular view. He was about to magic himself closer when he spotted a flash of yellow topple over the side, fluttering down the cliff to the rocks below.

Someone had either jumped, or more likely due to the noise, been pushed.

He found a crumpled form in a yellow dress floating in the still water, having somehow missed the rocks by mere meters. He waded in to collect the body, wanting to at least know the identity of the poor, unfortunate soul.

His heart plummeted when he reached it. She was such a short thing, about the size of his lost son, Baelfire. She must be around the same age, then, thirteen or fourteen.

If there was one thing he despised, it was violence against a child.

As he lifted her tiny frame, he noticed gentle curves and a round chest through the tattered gown. So not a child but a young woman, he thought. He carefully wiped sodden chestnut curls from her face and was suddenly struck by her beauty. Surely she had the most beautiful face he had ever seen!

He took in her jewels and dress, noting the fine craftsmanship that could only be afforded by royalty. This must be the bride-to-be. This must be Princess Belle.

He had not heard any whispers of an assassination attempt. Information was his bread and butter, trading on it more often than magic. Whoever had done this had either been extremely careful or incredibly stupid. He guessed the latter.

The body in his arms twitched and a soft moan escaped her cold lips. She was not quite dead yet after all. The Dark One was a selfish being by nature, never doing anything without receiving something in return. Rumpelstiltskin, however, had once been a father and knew that he could not allow this young woman, this child, to die without at least trying.

He ran his hands over her body, not quite touching, allowing his magic to spread throughout every tissue. Her liver had been punctured with a sharp blow and he repaired it with a thought. Bones that were shattered due to the fall or beating (for there were signs of a struggle on her face and arms) mended themselves perfectly. He thought of his own poorly healed war injury and how he had been in pain every day until he became the Dark One. She would not feel such pain.

He sincerely regretted leaving the bruises and cuts that marred her delicate body. He removed any traces of pain but he wanted her to be found with them. He wanted them to see what had been done to her. He knew that the word of a woman, especially such a young one, would go unheard without concrete evidence.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around in fright.

Idiot, he thought. The last thing a frightened, broken princess needed upon opening her eyes was the sight in front of her. He was the stuff of nightmares and knew that she would now be doubly scared.

She looked down at the remains of her dress and pure panic appeared on her face. Of course she would think the worst of him. He would never, ever take advantage of a woman like that, but she did not know him. No one knew him.

He made to leave when a cold hand grasped his arm, weakly tugging him back. Her breathing was labored and came out in huffs, but he was still able to make out the two words that struggled from her lips. "Thank….you…"

"Are you alright, child?" Yes, it was best to think of her as a poor, frightened child. He was always better around children than women.

"You….you saved…me," she sputtered, her teeth chattering from the cold or shock. He quickly cast a charm that enveloped her in the warmth of a hot, summer's day. Her body relaxed enough to stop the shivers that ravaged her.

"You fell," he explained. "I healed you."

"Pushed," she whispered.

So it was an assassination attempt. Perhaps she had seen who was behind it. "Who did this to you, dearie?"

"James…Prince James…drunk…"

So the Prince-who-was-not-born-a-prince was not much of a man either. Only a coward would attack a woman, especially one half his size.

Her eyes fluttered closed again as the magic began to draw from her body, making her drowsy. She needed to rest. First, however, she needed to be found by the right people. He sent a thought to any guards loyal to Belle to suddenly have an urge to walk across the west wall. With any luck there was already a search in place. It was no trouble to have them look down and spot her; her yellow dress was quite visible even in the dead of night. The only potential problem was him. She knows that he was not involved in the attack but no one else would believe that. He was the monster that preyed on the innocent, after all.

"I must go, dearie, but I promise you will be found. Remember to tell them who did this to you. Do not mention me, child. It will make things worse."

"Please, do not leave me," she whimpered. What a strange child, to be more afraid of the darkness than the Dark One. "Please."

How could he deny such a request? No one has ever sought out his company before, not without wanting something in return. With a snap of his fingers he was invisible to everyone but her. Not even search dogs would detect his presence.

She remained silent until the first guard found her lying just out of the water, and called for more men. He watched as she was covered by a cloak and carried up the embankment to be transferred to her father's arms. He stayed with her until she was safely inside and he heard her say the words he prayed she would remember.

"Prince James…attacked me…threw me over the wall."

Rumpelstiltskin was nothing if not patient. After all, he has waited centuries to complete a curse that would enable him to find his son and he was nearly finished. Just another decade or so and he'll have it.

In this case, however, he truly struggled to fight the overwhelming urge to turn the bastard Prince into a snail immediately. He had even picked out a pair of boots with which to squish him!

He heard the wedding had been called off but no word as to the true reason why. Apparently George was keeping tight lipped on the matter. The Prince was still out and about, prancing around on his horse and bedding every scullery maid that would have him. He had had the chance to marry a beautiful, kind woman and instead had thrown her over a cliff.

What an idiot!

Princess Belle on the other hand had disappeared from public life, choosing instead to stay close to home. He couldn't blame her. Her pig fiancé had tried to kill her in a drunken stupor. That wasn't something from which one recovered quickly.

No, turning into a snail was too good for him. He needed to die, but not yet. Without Belle's dowry King George's Kingdom would surely fall into despair. It was only time before the Prince would be recruited to use his sword skills for hire.

He needed only to wait until the opportune moment when he could bring in the bastard's twin brother for a great price. He could wait. Then he would arrange for the Prince to come to an untimely end.

Yes, patience is a virtue. It is also the only one he has in spades.