I realise it's been quite a while since I gave you the first chapter of this. Here's chapter two.

The Golden Thread

Chapter Two

Winter passed quietly and spring was almost over when it came time to start planning the ball that would mark Princess Belle's coming of age. Her father, King Maurice, would spare no expense: princes from realms far and wide would be invited and entertained. His daughter was a beauty, deserving of her name, and there would be several eligible and wealthy princes eager for her hand.

He worried, though. Belle was a beauty, but so headstrong. He should have expected it, of course, since her mother was the same. Colette had been sent by the gods and had been his rock for many years: he could not have navigated the affairs of the realm without her aid, but she had been…a handful. He had respected her, and held a great affection for her, and she had given him a beautiful daughter, but, gods, he hardly understood her.

She would go down among the people with no guards, she had unusual ideas about how to rule, and she insisted that no one kneel before her even though she should have accepted it as a mark of respect. She was a strange one.

He gave up trying to reason with her eventually, gave up trying to talk her out of her strange notions, even went along with some of them, to the betterment of his kingdom, he had to admit, and they got along well enough until she died, but now he saw the same tendencies in Belle: the same odd desire for equality.

'I don't like that they kneel, Father,' she said audibly when they were passing through the streets one day.

'Belle, hush,' he instructed.

'The peasants do more for our realm than we do,' she insisted: 'they work their fingers to the bone that we may prosper: it is we who should kneel to them.'

'This is the way it's done,' he told her firmly, and she had set her mouth into a firm line and not spoken to him for three days.

A son would be easier, he suspected: a son would understand why it needed to be as it was, but Belle was too emotional about their people, too connected with them. It also didn't help that she read voraciously about other lands and how they were ruled, just as her mother had. She came to him with ideas about councils of state and shared decision making: it boggled his mind. She read too much, and she was far too outspoken. He dreaded to think what the princes coming to the ball would say when they realised how outspoken she was. He needed to find her a husband who could restore the land's fortunes, but he feared they would all want a more docile wife, and Belle was not docile.

If that wasn't enough of a problem, there was also the issue of the promise he'd made to her mother on her deathbed.

'Grant her her choice, Maurice. I would have her marry for love. Please, promise me this last thing.'

Her eyes had so pleaded with him that he hadn't been able to find the courage to refuse her. He had agreed, and Belle knew he had. He never should have given in to her: the realm needed a wealthy prince if it was to prosper again, but there was always the chance that Belle's choice would agree with that goal. He prayed every day that it would be so. He did not want to go against his wife's wish, but if he had to…

0

Belle passed the winter and spring happily enough in her father's castle. She read and studied, and sat in sometimes when her father spoke with his advisors. She was learning as much as she could about running a kingdom. She would be queen one day and she wanted to understand the affairs of her people as best she could.

It wasn't easy. Lord Frollo, her father's chief advisor, barely tolerated her and didn't like her asking questions. Oh, he showed her due deference as his princess, but he didn't take her seriously. She was sure he felt that she didn't need to worry her pretty little head about any of the dull business of running a kingdom. The way he saw it, she'd soon have a husband who would deal with all of that. Odious man! What he seemed to forget was that her mother had had quite a hand in running this kingdom when she was alive. That was how Belle knew that a woman could wield power effectively and for the good of the realm and its people, and she was determined to follow in her mother's footsteps: she would never marry a man who would not accept her ruling equally with him.

The thought of marriage and a husband was never far from her thoughts now. It wouldn't be long now until she came of age and would have to choose a husband. There would be princes a-plenty for her to choose from, but she already knew she would have no interest in any of them. Her father hoped she would choose one at her coming of age ball, but she would have to disappoint him. She had chosen a husband alright, a prince among men, though not an anointed prince. Her father wouldn't like it, but he was bound by the promise he'd made to her mother: she was to choose for herself.

She had a plan to see her prince again: she just had to get her father to agree to it.

'What?' he asked, staring incredulously at her as she made her request.

'I want all the eligible men in the kingdom to be invited to attend,' she repeated.

'This is highly unusual, Belle,' he told her.

'Even so,' she persisted: 'this is what I want.'

Her father pressed his lips together in irritation and Belle, ignoring the beady-eyed Frollo standing by his chair, drew herself up and stood her ground.

'Father, this ball is something you want, not something I want; yet I go along with it because I know it will make you happy. All I ask is for one concession. Please, Father, it would mean a lot to me if you would give me what I ask. Why shouldn't all the eligible men be invited? They work hard to make our land prosper: they should be rewarded. Besides, it is my birthday: can't I have one thing I wish for?'

The king sighed. His daughter had the same power of persuasion as her mother, and he'd learnt with Colette that the most peacable thing was to agree.

'Very well, my daughter: you shall have your wish. I will make the arrangements. We're going to need more space.'

'Thank you, Father,' Belle said, smiling and kissing his cheek.

She left quietly, but once she was out of his sight, she rushed off to find Will.

'I take it you got what you wanted,' he said, smiling when she found him patrolling in the castle grounds.

'I did,' she said triumphantly.

'Just be careful, alright. You're putting a lot into this. What if he doesn't come?'

'He will,' Belle said assuredly: 'I know he'll come.'

Will shook his head at her as she hurried off. She was so hopeful and so naive, but still, he wanted it to work out for her.

0

Rumplestiltskin passed the winter and spring quietly, going about his usual business and keeping to himself as best he could. Word had gotten back to the village about his encounter with Princess Belle and people looked at him curiously for a while, but eventually they forgot about it and went back to giving him a wide berth for the most part.

Jones and Nottingham didn't let it go, however, taking every opportunity they could to tease him. One day he made the mistake of stopping by the tavern for a pint of ale after a particularly tiring day and encountered them there — they were hardly ever anywhere else.

As soon as they saw him, they started.

'No glimpse of the fair princess today, Spindleshanks?' Nottingham called.

'You must be so disappointed,' Jones added.

'Surprised she'd even waste her breath on the likes of you.'

'Maybe she's not so discerning as she ought to be.'

'Perhaps not.' Nottingham laughed along with Jones.

Rumplestiltskin could not mistake their meaning: no one could. He turned to look at the two men, shaking with anger.

'You're speaking of the princess of this realm,' he said, unable to ignore their insinuation: 'you should show more respect.'

'She's just a woman,' Nottingham said dismissively.

'Aye, and only good for one thing,' Jones stated, smirking, and clinked his tankard against Nottingham's.

'You ought not to talk about her like that,' Rumplestiltskin insisted.

'Are you going to stop us?' Nottingham asked with a laugh.

'Course he's not: he's incapable of fighting back. Besides, he thinks the same way we do. Admit it, Spindleshanks, you wouldn't say no to a romp with such a pretty maiden.'

'Who knows, maybe she took pity on him that day in the forest,' Nottingham suggested.

'Stop it!' Rumplestiltskin shouted, rising from his seat: 'you will not say such things about the princess.'

The entire tavern fell silent, all eyes falling on Rumplestiltskin. He realised it, but he didn't back down. They could say what they wanted about him, but he would not listen to such scurrilous stories about the lovely and gracious princess.

The atmosphere grew tense, everyone waiting for a response from Nottingham and Jones, though most people sided with the spinner and were just too afraid to say it.

'The spinner's right,' the tavern owner finally said, 'and I won't have such disgusting talk in my tavern. You disgrace the memory of Queen Colette.'

There were grumbles of agreement from all around and that was the end of the matter. You would have to go very, very far to find someone who didn't hold the memory of Queen Colette sacred. She had been well loved, especially by the common people, and making such insinuations as Jones and Nottingham had made about her daughter was not to be borne.

Rumplestiltskin looked at the tavern owner. 'Thank you,' he said.

The man nodded and refilled his tankard. 'Drink up: it's on the house.'

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to protest, but the man shook his head.

'Go on: you've earned it.'

Rumplestiltskin stared at him in surprise, but then he thanked him again and drank down the ale. Then he made his way out of the tavern, and Jones and Nottingham made no nasty comment in passing, for once.

0

The shawl the princess had given to Rumplestiltskin had been hidden away in his home. No one knew about it and that was how it would stay. He thought of her often and when the memory of her sweet smile, voice, and touch washed over him, he took out the shawl and held it in his hands, and he could almost see, hear, and feel her again. The shawl even carried her scent, still, and it was glorious to feel her presence so keenly.

When he'd hidden away the shawl, he'd uncovered one remaining spool of the golden thread. He'd had some left after his final trip to Avonlea, but had forgotten all about it. He'd put this last spool in the pocket of his tunic and kept it with him always now. He kept it as a reminder of the queen who'd loved her daughter so and the princess whom he also loved.

As spring passed into summer, the time for the princess' coming of age ball approached. One morning, as he sat spinning, he heard a commotion in the village square.

'What's happening?' he asked, joining some of his neighbours in the street.

'The king has made a decree about the princess' coming of age ball,' one of the women said: 'all the eligible men of the realm are invited to attend.'

'What does he mean by eligible, though?' another neighbour asked.

'Unmarried, I suppose,' the first woman said.

'Young and unmarried,' another clarified.

Young, unmarried, and unburdened by poverty and disability, Rumplestiltskin added to himself. That ruled him out. Yes, he was unmarried, but his age, his poverty, and his limp made him ineligible.

Oh, it would be delightful to go and look on from the sidelines. Just the thought of seeing the princess again lifted his heart, but how was he to get there? He had no horse, no means of transport besides his legs, and his ankle would never stand up to the journey. And a ball required suitable clothing, of which he had none. No, there was no way he could go, and it was probably for the best anyway. As much as he wanted to see her again, he knew that if he did, it would just make him long too much for what he could never have. No, best to just treasure the memory of his time with her.

0

Weeks passed and excitement for the ball grew. Young men from far and wide were planning to attend and enjoy themselves with fine food and drink, and of course to bask in the sight of the beautiful princess. Most of them knew they had no chance with the princess, but they still hoped to at least look upon her, and maybe they'd meet a woman who wasn't so far above them in station that they could woo and win.

While most of the men attending were thinking of it as a party, there were a few who thought they would have some chance of catching the fair princess' eye. Jones and Nottingham were among them. Rumplestiltskin had heard them talk about it on more than one occasion and their talk seemed designed to get a response from him. He was determined not to give them the satisfaction.

They were walking through the fields one day while Rumplestiltskin was tending to his sheep and they slowed their steps as they approached. He carried on with his work, guessing what they were about.

'All set for the ball, Spindleshanks?' Nottingham asked.

Rumplestiltskin ignored him.

'Got your dancing shoes all ready?' Jones threw in.

Rumplestiltskin ignored that too.

'We'll be sure to say hello to your princess.'

Rumplestiltskin gripped his staff hard as the two men laughed and walked on.

The thought of those two being near Princess Belle made him feel sick. They weren't worthy of looking on her beautiful face. Not that he was either, but at least he knew how to be respectful: those two didn't, at all. He fervently wished he could protect her from them, but there was no way he could go. It could never be. He told himself to pack his dreams away and be content with his little lot.

0

Belle wished she could run. Three days to the ball and she was sick of the whole thing.

There were five princes staying at her father's castle, each more pompous and insufferable than the last. Her father seriously expected her to choose one of these men for her husband? Well, she wouldn't: her mother wanted her to have her choice and her father had agreed, so she didn't know why he insisted on this elaborate ball.

Still, she was going along with it because she knew it would reunite her with her prince. Every time one of those loud, boorish buffoons came near her, she reminded herself that she would be rid of them soon enough. Just three more days and then she would see her kind, gentle prince once more.

'Are you looking forward to the ball, your highness?' Astrid asked her as she brushed her hair for her on the third evening before the ball.

'I wish it were already over, to be quite honest, Astrid.'

Astrid hummed sympathetically. 'But you might enjoy it after all,' she suggested.

'Perhaps,' Belle agreed. She knew she would enjoy seeing her prince again.

'What about you, Astrid, are you looking forward to it?'

Astrid blushed, but tried to hide it. 'Yes, your highness,' she murmured.

Belle smiled. 'Is there someone you're hoping to dance with?' she asked.

Astrid looked up, alarmed. 'Oh, no, your highness: I'll be far too busy attending on you.'

Belle laughed. 'I'll have plenty of people to attend on me,' she said. 'You can tell me: is there someone you're hoping to dance with?'

Astrid blushed and smiled. 'One of the gardeners has been very attentive to me. He has asked me for a dance.'

'Then you must say yes,' Belle insisted, turning away from the mirror and taking Astrid's hand. 'Astrid, if you're in love, you must do all you can to be with him.'

Astrid smiled at her kind mistress' glowing face. She wondered if the princess was in love too. There was a look in her eyes that Astrid had seen in her own when she looked in the mirror lately. She knew that Princess Belle didn't love any of the idiot princes her father was entertaining, and she was sure she wasn't in love with her friend Will Scarlet. It must be the man on the road, then, the gentle man with the limp. He was a peasant, but what did that matter in the face of True Love? She truly hoped the princess would be able to dance with her love too.

0

The day of the ball dawned warm and fair. The ball wasn't until evening, but everyone was saying it would be daylight until near midnight. It would be a magical night for the ball.

Rumplestiltskin was spending the evening tending his small vegetable garden. He'd wanted to keep busy so that his mind wouldn't wander to a ball that he couldn't attend and a princess he could never lay eyes on again. He was mostly successful, but he sighed sadly now as her face appeared in his mind in all its bright beauty. Oh, gods, how he longed to see her.

Nottingham and Jones had left hours ago with their horses and their finery. To think that they would get the chance to look upon fair Belle and he would not…

He sighed again and then jumped when a voice spoke.

'Might I trouble you for some water, lad? I've walked far and I'm rather thirsty.'

He saw the old woman by the gate, hunched over, a cloak around her withered frame.

He hadn't it in him to refuse charity, especially to one so in need.

'Of course, madam: come in and rest yourself.' And he hurried to get her her water.

The woman opened the gate and stepped in. She kept her hood up, so he could not see her face.

'Too kind, too kind,' she praised, taking the offered cup of water and drinking deeply from it: 'I could only wish others I met on my travels were as kind as you, Rumplestiltskin.'

He started. 'How did you know my name?' he demanded warily.

The old woman chuckled. 'Oh, I've known of you a long time, child.'

Now she lowered her hood and he recognised the old woman from the market, the same woman the princess had helped. Only she seemed not so frail now, more youthful than he remembered, and instead of white hair, she had hair of pale gold. Perhaps it was some trick of the light…

'You're… I met you before,' he said.

'You did,' she agreed, setting the cup down on the step.

'But what are you doing here?' he asked. 'Surely you don't need to work if the princess provides for you?'

'You're right: I don't, and she does, though I'm not actually in need of her charity. Others are, though, and they are grateful.'

'I don't understand. You were starving, weren't you?'

'Not I, lad. That was merely a test.'

He frowned. 'A test? What are you about, madam?'

'The princess' ball is tonight,' she said, changing the subject on him, 'and yet here you are, tending your garden.'

'What has that got to do with anything?' he demanded, getting annoyed. He didn't like the thought that she'd played him and the princess for fools, and now she was reminding him of his sorrow too.

'Oh, everything, my dear.' She smiled. 'She's expecting you, you know. She'll be most unhappy if she doesn't see you.'

'I didn't think you were cruel, madam,' he said quietly, turning away, annoyance giving way to utter despair.

'Oh, child, I'm not here to gloat at your misfortune: I'm here to help you.'

He turned to her and frowned. 'Help? I don't understand.'

'My dear, did you think that kindness such as yours and hers would go unrewarded?'

'I don't…what are you talking about?'

'Do you believe in magic, Rumplestiltskin?' she asked, and she reached into her cloak and pulled out a long stick that glowed gold: a wand.

'You're a…a witch?' he asked, staggering back and staring at the wand with wide eyes; staring, too, at the way her shabby cloak and tattered dress changed to a green gown and darker green cloak.

'I'm a fairy godmother, dear,' she told him: 'yours and the princess'. That day in the market, I brought you together, and now I'm come to ensure you both get your dearest wish.'

He didn't know about the princess, but his dearest wish was to be by her side forever.

He shook his head. 'Don't…don't say things like that. You can't…you can't do such things.'

She looked at him. He looked away, ashamed of his hope, ashamed because he wanted her words to be true: he wanted to be with Belle so dearly…but how could it be? He was a humble spinner and she deserved a prince.

'My dear, don't fret,' she entreated. 'I know what you think. You think you don't deserve her because you're a spinner and she's a princess, but you forget, she saw what you did when you thought I was a poor old woman with not enough food. She saw your kind heart and she recognised that you have more nobility in you than many courtiers. Didn't she give you something to show her appreciation of your kindness?'

'Yes,' he breathed, amazed that she knew of that.

'The shawl her mother made, fashioned from your own cloth and golden thread.'

Rumplestiltskin nodded dumbly. She knew everything, apparently.

'My child, don't you know what it means when maids give such things to men?'

He shook his head.' What?'

The woman smiled. 'Your precious keepsake is more important than you know,' she told him: 'it isn't just a token of her appreciation, it's a token of her love, a sign that her heart is yours.'

He shook his head. 'But it can't be… I'm just… I'm no one.'

She shook her head. 'You're more important than you know, my dear.'

He was shaking his head. 'That's impossible. I'm nobody: I…'

'You'll see, dear: soon enough, you'll understand. Now, let's get you to that ball: she's waiting for you.'

'How can I go to the ball?' he asked, almost exasperated: 'look at me!'

'Easily remedied, dear,' she told him, and a flick of her wand changed his ragged clothing instantly into a royal blue coat with gold brocade trim and gold buttons, a golden waistcoat, a soft white shirt, black breeches, and black boots.

He gasped, trying to take in his appearance.

'And you'll need transportation, of course.'

And now she chose a pumpkin and transformed it into a fine carriage. Then she chose two footmen from among his chickens, four horses from a family of mice that had made a nest in his garden, and transformed a neighbour's goose into a coachman.

'There we are,' she said, well pleased with her work.

Rumplestiltskin stared at her. He was sure this must be some vivid dream he would soon wake up from.

He stepped forward, aware of how awkward he was with his limp in this fine costume.

'Oh, you can hardly dance like that,' she said, and she waved her wand again. 'There, now you'll have one night without that pain.'

He felt the pain in his ankle disappear and he could put weight on it again.

'What did you do?' he asked.

'Put a bit of magic in the boots,' she said. 'As long as you wear them, you'll be able to walk with ease, and dance too.'

'I can't dance,' he said.

'It'll come easy enough when she's in your arms,' she assured him.

'I'm really going to see her?' he asked.

'Well, I didn't do all this so you could stay here and tend your vegetables, dear,' she said, smiling. 'Now, in you get.'

He set down his staff and climbed into the coach, marvelling at the strength in his ankle.

'Wait,' he said, something suddenly occurring to him.

'What is it, dear?'

'There will be men there from my village. They'll know me, even in these fine clothes. They might cause trouble. I don't care what they do to me, but they might upset the princess.'

She nodded. 'I understand.' She waved her wand over him. 'There: now no one but the princess will recognise you.'

'Thank you.'

'There's one thing I must tell you before you go. 'My magic has its limits, I'm afraid, so you must be sure you leave the ball before the last chime of midnight, because then the magic will cease and all will be as it was before.'

He nodded. 'I understand.'

'I wish I could give you longer, dear, but those are the rules.'

He smiled. 'Until midnight is more time than I thought I would ever have with her. I never thought I would see her again at all, so this is more than I could have asked for. Thank you: gods bless you.'

She smiled. 'Gods bless you and keep you, Rumplestiltskin. Good luck with your princess. Now, go: she's waiting for you.'

The carriage sped off and Rumplestiltskin looked out as the countryside seemed to fly by. He could hardly believe this, hardly take it all in. She'd said that he was being rewarded for his kindness to her and this, to see Belle again, was all the reward he could ever wish for. Oh, bless the old lady — fairy godmother — for her generosity.

Soon enough, sooner than he expected, the city of Avonlea came into view. He suspected that magic had sped him here quicker than it ought to have taken, but he could hardly complain, since the clock was just striking nine, which meant he had three hours in which to look upon Belle. It was more than he had ever imagined he would get.

Moments later, the carriage passed through into the palace grounds and he saw the grand palace laid out before him. Oh, it was a beautiful sight. He'd never seen it up close before and it was fine, but even more than that, it was Belle's home: that made it more beautiful to him.

He debouched from the coach and a footman directed him up the steps of the castle. Everyone else seemed to be inside, judging by the noise he heard.

As he reached the door to the ballroom, he held his breath, and then he opened the door and stepped inside.

So, did anyone guess the old lady was the fairy godmother? We'll be seeing her again in a later chapter. Next time, our lovers meet again. Thanks for reading :)