Dear all, Oncers, Rumbellers and fanficers. This is my first Rumbelle (and Once Upon a Time) fanfic, so please be gentle with me.

D/C: I own nothing (if I did, there would be a lot more Rumbelle on a Sunday night and a lot less of ... well, everyone else).

Anyway … enjoy!

Encounter 1

Gold didn't love her when he first saw her. This wasn't some kind of love-at-first-sight fairy-tale. There were no Handsome Princes or Fairy Godmothers in this. He thought she was attractive – a Belle in name and nature – but love? Gold was its enemy.

He'd been burned too many times by the flames of romance. He didn't – as the gossips suggested – begrudge these young people their epic love stories; he pitied them. He knew what they were yet to discover, love was a minefield of vicious inconsistencies. The only constant was that it would end … badly and in heartbreak.

Still it wasn't good for the owner of a large Card and Gift Company to smear the noble name of love. The twisted emotion was the Number One reason people bought his crappy products, so he congratulated his top seller, Gaston, when he proudly paraded his bride-to-be at the office Christmas party. Gold took her outstretched hand, and pressed his rough lips to the soft skin on the back of her hand. He was a pioneer of old-fashioned chivalry and could smell the fruity perfume dabbed on her wrist.

'You're glowing with love, dearie,' he hummed. 'Gaston treats you well.'

She smiled awkwardly. It was not a normal response for a fervent fiancée, he'd expected to endure the over enthusiastic gushing of a blushing bride. Perhaps, Gaston's betrothed was shy or, more likely, she was put off by the fact his hand was still trapping hers. He stopped their contact abruptly.

Gold understood her hesitancy. Gaston would have told her that he was some kind of beast; an old divorcee plagued by rumours that he'd had his wife murdered and procured his vast fortune through shady deals with European drug lords. Only some of it was true.

'Well,' he cleared his throat, 'enjoy the party.' He used his cane to gesture to the gaudy Christmas decorations. A giant, glittery reindeer centrepiece dripping with fairy lights was the biggest eyesore, but there were plenty of smaller eye-insults to keep all the workers going. A particularly offensive life-sized dancing Santa was garnering a lot of attention at the door. This was the last time he allowed his tasteless secretary to decorate anything.

'We will,' Gaston promised, wrapping an arm around his fiancée's slim waist and practically pinning her to his hip. Gold couldn't help feel that Gaston was wearing the woman like a prized trinket. He had an inkling that Belle was too good for the man she was promised to, but Gaston was a ruthless salesman. If he'd wanted, he would have been able to sell himself to a blue-eyed beauty in a bar. But their relationship was their business. They're pursuit of love was no more or less doomed than any other couple in the world.

Gold had moved on. He'd sampled a few of the canapés and a lot of the wine. He'd met a few more worker's spouses and bid far too many people a Merry Christmas … especially as it was still November. Most of his guests were tedious, some were actively annoying and all were utterly unmemorable.

He had no reason to believe that the Belle of the ball would eventually change his opinion on love forever.

Constrictive criticism is not only welcomed, but encouraged. Thank-you-please, dearies.

Sisi…xx