NOTES:This is the alternative POV for Of Little Dragons and Maidens Fair, because little Rumpel was too adorable not to write.

Also, I fear I may be abandoning indefinitely soon. I don't know what it is about the site, but I have real trouble logging in or updating anything. If you seek me, I'll be on tumblr (amuseoffyre) or Archive of our Own (Fyre)

Rumpelstiltskin was scared.

He'd woken up in a heap on the floor. That happened sometimes, when he was really, really tired, but it wasn't his floor. There wasn't any straw on it or anything. It was all shiny stone and cold and hard. He was wearing something funny as well, a big red shirt. It was all thin and smooth and didn't itch, not even a bit.

He tugged at it, then stared at his hands. They were all strange. There were little scales all over them and his nails were all black and dirty and yuck. He rubbed them, but the scales didn't come off. He rubbed harder and the sleeves fell up his arms and his arms were scaly too. He lifted his hands to his face, scared.

Rumpelstiltskin whimpered, running to the shadows so no one could see him.

Mama told him lots of stories about evil sorcerers who would turn people into monsters. He didn't want to be a monster. Monsters did bad things to people, and mama said they hunted in the wild. He didn't want to be a monster and hunt in the wilds.

"Rumpelstiltskin?" It was a lady's voice, but it wasn't mama. "Are you there?"

He curled up small in the darkest corner, hiding against the wall, so no one could see his monster face. His feet were all cold and the cold was sneaking up his legs, and the place was so big and scary and he wanted to go home. He tried not to cry, but a little noise came out.

He could hear steps on the shiny floor, slow, little steps, like someone searching. He knew they were looking for him.

"Don't look!" he sobbed.

The woman's voice was worried, soft. "Rumpelstiltskin, what's wrong?"

He covered his face with his hands, hiding the horrible monster-face, and shaking. His hands were getting wet. His nose and eyes were all sticky and he wanted mama to come and keep him safe. They could hide away together and no one would see him.

"Rumpelstiltskin," the lady said. He could hear her close to him. "It's all right."

He shook his head. "Not," he whispered. "All bad."

"Are you hurt?" She touched his shoulder and Rumpelstiltskin wanted to run away. She would be scared of him and throw rocks at him and make him hurt because he was turning into a horrible, horrible monster. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't stop crying. It hurt his throat and his eyes and he couldn't stop. "I'm a monster! An ugly horrible monster!"

The lady was quiet, then asked, "A monster? What do you mean?"

"I'm all scaly and horrible and yuck," he whispered into his hands.

"Oh," the lady said quietly. "Well, I think you might be wrong."

Rumpelstiltskin sniffed hard. She didn't sound scared of him being a monster at all. She sounded like she wasn't scared of anything. "Wrong?"

"Mm-hmm," she said. "You might be a special kind of scaly."

He blinked, his eyelashes tickling his hands. He tried to peek at her without her seeing his face, staring between his fingers. "Special scaly?"

The lady smiled. She had a soft face with pink cheeks and a kind smile, the kindest he'd ever seen. "If you let me see your hand, I can check."

Rumpelstiltskin bit his lip. The sleeves of the shirt were all big, so he lifted one up to hide behind, then held out his hand to her. Her fingers were warm and soft, and she leaned down and stared hard at his hand.

"Hmm," she said. "Yes. This is the good kind of scaly, definitely. I know of dragons who would be very jealous of such fine golden scales."

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes widened. Dragons? Dragons would like to have scales like his? He peeked over the sleeve at her. "Really?"

She nodded and smiled. "Really." He clung onto her hand, this lady who wasn't scared of monster-boys with scales and who knew about dragons and was smiling and nice, and put the sleeve down to smile at her a little bit. She looked him up and down. "Now," she said, "your feet must be getting cold. Shall we find you something to put on them?"

He looked down. He even had scales all over his toes. "They're scaly too," he said. "I didn't have scales before."

She looked surprised as she got to her feet and smoothed her skirt down. "Didn't you?"

He wondered if she had met lots of little scaly monster-boys. "I was pink all over," he said.

"Maybe," she suggested, her eyes all bright and blue and smiling, and she held out her hand to him, "you're turning into a dragon?"

He giggled, taking her hand. "I'd like to be a dragon," he said. "I would be big and breathe fire and I wouldn't be scared of anyone."

She laughed and it made him feel all happy. She was a good lady, a nice lady. "I'm sure you would," she said. She looked at him and was all serious for a minute. "Do you remember who I am?"

He looked up and shook his head. She knew who he was, which meant she was safe, but everything else was wrong. "I don't know where this place is," he said. His voice was shaky and his tummy felt funny. "Everything is all big and scary." He bit his lip, wondering if she thought he meant her too. He tugged on her hand quickly. "But you're nice."

Her smile was back and all warm. "I'm here to look after you," she said. "My name is Belle." She crouched down so she was the same size as him, and put both of her hands around his one. "You don't need to be scared. This place is safe, even for little dragons."

He wanted to believe her, but it was all too big and scary. "You won't leave me on my own?" he asked shyly.

Belle smiled. "I'll be here forever," she said, then stood up again, still holding his hand in hers. "Now, let's get you somewhere warmer."

Belle was very kind to him. She took him to the biggest warmest kitchen in the world and made some of the yummiest food he ever had. The milk she gave him was cold and thick and had so much cream wanted to lick the edges of the cup.

Mama always told him that if a high-born person was present, you weren't allowed to lick the bowl. It wasn't a bowl, but he thought it would be the same for a cup as well. He didn't know if Belle was high-born, whatever that was, but she was nice and she was a lady, and it felt like it was rude to lick the inside of the cup.

She told him he was up in the mountains and that scared him more. Mama never went far from the lowlands. She didn't like mountains. She said they were too dangerous and people died in landslides and ambushes. He wasn't sure what an ambush was. Maybe it was a really, really scary tree.

Mama always told him to stay near the flatlands and the farms. Better to see enemies coming, she always said. Mama always watched for enemies, ever since papa went away the last time. He couldn't really remember papa, only that mama sometimes still cried quietly in the night when she thought he was asleep.

Belle told him it was all right, and when she spoke all calm and soft, he knew she wasn't telling him lies. She told him about her master, who would come back and find his mama for him, and he would be able to go home. Her master was away, but he would be back soon, she promised, and he would make everything better.

She even used her own handkerchief to wipe his cheeks and she didn't even seem to mind that his nose was all sticky and his eyes were all wet.

They ate food that was as good as King-food, all meat and soft, thick bread, and funny flat cake-biscuits. Belle sat beside him and told him about the big building they were in. It was a castle, a really, really big one.

He had an idea. Her master was away and they were alone in the big castle, and it wasn't so scary when she was beside him. "We should look!" he said excitedly. "We can find treasure."

"Treasure?" she said, laughing. She was tidying up the dishes around them.

He nodded. Everyone knew that if you had a castle, there would be treasure somewhere inside it. It would be amazing to see real actual, proper treasure! He had never even seen a gold coin before. He stood up on the seat, and hopped from foot to foot. "I bet there will be gold and jewels and magic things! We can find them all!"

"Well," Belle said, looking at him from head to toe. "we can't go treasure-hunting like that." We'll need to find you some treasure-hunting boots and a hat. A proper one, like the pirates wear."

Rumpelstiltskin squeaked in delight. "You've seen a pirate?"

"Lots of times," she said. "I used to live in a castle by the sea." She picked up a spoon from the table and swished it like a sword. "They would come to our castle and demand that we give them our booty."

He held onto the back of the chair, bouncing excitedly. No one from the lowlands had ever, ever met a proper, real pirate before. "Did you?" he asked. "Or did you fight them with swords?"

Belle laughed, setting the spoon down. "We gave them dinner," she said. He thought about it. That was better than booty, if you were really hungry. "They knew we didn't have booty, so dinner was all they would get out of us." She leaned closer. "We used to have big parties, and they would teach me all the songs my papa didn't want me to know."

He stared at her wide, blue eyes. If it was a song her papa didn't want her to know, it must have had a lot of pirate-stuff in it. "Were they…" His cheeks were pink and he whispered, "Rude?"

She nodded, crouching a little closer, and told him in a secret whisper, "Very."

Rumpelstiltskin hid behind his hands, giggling. His face was all pink and warm. It felt naughty talking to a high-born lady about rude pirate songs.

She held out her hands to him. "Shall we go and find treasure?"

Rumpelstiltskin peeked at her. She was kind and nice and didn't scare him at all. He bit his lip, then threw himself into her arms and scrambled up her body to cling onto her. "You can be my pirate ship!"

"I'm not a ship!" She was trying not to smile, and he could see it. The corners of her mouth were all twitchy.

"But," he said, blinking at her, "you're tall like a mast. And your skirt can be the sail." He looked around them for anything else that would prove she was a ship. Her handkerchief was still tucked between two of the buttons on his shirt, so he pulled it out and waved it eagerly. "And that's the flag."

It wasn't just the corners of her mouth all twitching now. She was biting her bottom lip and he stared at her hopefully and waved the handkerchief again. "Oh, all right," she said and she was smiling like sunshine again. "Which way, Captain?"

He bounced in her arms. "To treasure-hunting boots!" he exclaimed, waving an arm.

She held onto him tightly with one arm. "Aye, Captain!" she said, and swirled her skirts like a sail, and the pirate ship left the kitchen.

The castle was really, really big. The roof went so high he could hardly see it at all, and the windows were bigger than the whole of mama's little cottage. It was all full of light and there were woven colourful pictures on the walls of animals and people. If he could be a rich person, he knew this was just the kind of castle he would want: all warm and bright and big and everything was pretty and shiny. It wasn't like home, but he knew mama would like to live somewhere like this if she could, with windows and a big kitchen and good food.

Belle found him boots, proper boots, and a great big hat with a feather. He felt like a pirate Captain properly, even when Belle wasn't his ship anymore. It was silly to look for treasure from a ship, so he insisted she was now his First Mate. That was what pirate Captain's called their best friends, he told her. They had a First Mate and a Second Mate, and sometimes, if they were very lucky, a Third Mate as well. She looked like she wanted to laugh, but not so much when he told her that this was the first time he ever had a First Mate.

"Really?" she asked, as they searched another room for jewels. This one was full of books and smelly herbs.

He nodded. "Only my mama," he said, climbing up onto a chest to peer at the shelves. "I don't think mamas are allowed to be first mates, not properly. They're proper Captains of the house."

"I think that means my papa was the Captain, then," Belle said. "He had a special hat and told everyone what to do."

Rumpelstiltskin nodded. "That's a proper Captain. You have to have a hat. The stories all say a pirate captain has to have a hat."

Her smile came back. "Aye, aye, Captain," she said, and he giggled. "Do you see any booty in here, Captain?"

He made a face, climbing down from the trunk. "Only books and smelly things," he said. "I thought there would be proper treasure and gold and jewels and things."

"Books can be treasure," Belle said, offering him her hand again. He took it at once. He knew she wasn't dangerous, not at all. She felt like the safest person he had ever met, even safer than mama. Mama worried and fretted all the time, but Belle was all smiles and calm and happy and not worried about anything.

"They're just words," he said, frowning, as they left the room.

Belle laughed. "Words can be the most precious things of all," she said. "You can tell a story with words. You can make people fight with words. You can win your Kingdom's freedom with words. A book keeps words safe. It wraps them up in paper and stores them for you so you can go back and see them again and again. Words are the greatest magic."

He looked up at her, wide-eyed. "Magic?"

She nodded. "If you can learn to make words dance for you, you can be the most magical person in the world."

Rumpelstiltskin was quiet for the walk to the next room.

Words never really seemed important before. Mama didn't speak much, only to tell him stories of all the ways she would keep him safe from all the bad things in the world, or to teach him skills that he could use as a trade.

The next room made him forget all about words. It was full of shiny metal and things that looked like a soldier-king's crown. He ran from one shelf to the other, picking things up and showing them to Belle, who laughed and insisted that he should really put them back.

"But I found the booty!" he protested. "Pirates steal it all!"

"Pirates do, if they don't want to have dinner," she reminded him. "If you want to eat again while you're here, you can't steal your host's armour. It's very rude."

He looked at a shining crown-helmet with a pout. "Mama would like that."

Belle laughed. "I'm sure she would," she said. "We can ask my master when he gets home, if you can take it, but for now, I think you should leave it where it is."

He frowned at the helmet, then nodded. "Let's see what else there is!"

There were so many rooms, but his favourite one of all had a big table and, best of all, a big spinning wheel. It was much bigger than mama's, all polished wood and clean and no stains from smoke or dust. He squeaked and ran to it, climbing onto the stool. This was much much better than any silly treasure. He knew how to spin. Mama taught him almost as soon as he was old enough to turn the wheel, and when Belle told him it was all right, he set the wheel turning straight away.

Belle smiled at him. "Did your mama teach you to spin?"

"She's the best spinner in all the land," he said happily, then frowned. The straw wasn't spinning the right way. It wasn't turning into a flak thread like it usually did. "Look! It's doing something funny." He stopped the wheel and pulled the thread closer, staring at it. His eyes got bigger and he looked up at Belle. "It looks like gold!"

She bent closer to look. "It looks like you must be magic as well, little dragon," she said.

He wriggled happily. "Dragons are magic! If I can do magic, I must be a dragon!" He clung to the thread, beaming at her. "Do you think I'll get wings?"

"Maybe," she said, smiling a little bit. "Everyone will know your name."

Rumpelstiltskin bounced on the stool and started turning the wheel again.

Mama would be so excited. He could spin her gold and buy her all the nice clothes and food and things they didn't have now. He would get her a big castle and he would be her big, brave dragon to keep her safe from landslides and ambushes. They would be all safe and happy and he could spin all the gold in the world for her.

He only stopped when the straw ran out and Belle told him it was time for dinner.

That was a big surprise.

Mama usually made one big filling bowl for him in the middle of the day, and that was the most food he would see in one go. Mama sometimes made plain stews, sometimes with a rabbit she snared, but mostly, it was just bread and cheese.

Belle took him back to the kitchen, carried him all safe and protected. She said her master was a sorcerer, and that scared him again. Mama didn't think sorcerers were good, because sorcerers always used magic to do selfish and silly things. Rumpelstiltskin knew if he was becoming a dragon, he would only use his magic to do good things.

He forgot all about the silly sorcerer, though, when they made soup.

She showed him the pantry and Rumpelstiltskin had never seen so much food in all of his little life. There were huge pieces of meat all hanging, and blocks of cheeses and all kinds of vegetables that he had never seen before. She let him pick what he wanted to have in the soup, and there was so much to choose from that he tried to take a piece of everything.

He was surprised that she didn't know a lot about lighting fires, because she seemed very very smart, but fires weren't important when she made the best soup he had ever eaten. It was thick like a stew, with all bits of vegetable and meat and it was so good that he asked for a second bowl, even though his tummy was straining and full to the top.

"This is the best soup I ever had," he said when he finished scraping the bowl clean. He felt full, like his belly was sticking out like a puffed out ball.

Belle laughed. "I can see that," she said. "I think you would climb into the pan and eat all of it, if I let you."

He tried not to giggle, because it was true. If he could have eaten all the soup, he would have done it. "I'm full anyway," he said. He was quiet for a minute, then bit his lip before asking, "Will your master be home soon?"

She stood up, gathering up their empty plates and bowls. "I don't know, little dragon," she said, her voice calm. "But as soon as he is home, you'll know it."

She was worried for him, he could tell. He fiddled with the buttons of the shirt he was wearing. "Mama will be worried," he said in a whisper. "Mama doesn't like it when she doesn't know where I am."

"Any mama would," Belle said quietly, her back to him. She sounded sad for a minute, and he looked up at her, but when she turned around, she was smiling again. "But she'll be happy when she finds out you were safe and looked after and had good soup, won't she?"

Rumpelstiltskin nodded to hard his hair flew all over the place.

She came back to his side, crouching beside the chair. "Now," she said, "are you feeling tired yet?"

He started to shake his head, then frowned at himself when he yawned. "I'm not!" he protested. "We haven't even found a treasure room yet! Not anywhere!"

"Well," Belle said, hoisting him up in her arms like a sack of wool, "if my master isn't back by morning, then we can look for it then."

It sounded like a good idea, and his legs were being all sleepy, so he snuggled against her.

She even agreed that he should sleep in her room to keep safe, and she gave him a long white nightshirt, all soft and smooth to wear, as she made him up a bed on her couch. He put on the nightshirt, which made a pile around his feet, and rubbed the fabric.

"It feels funny," he said, looking up at her. "All smooth."

Belle smiled, drawing back the covers on the bed she had made for him. "It's very expensive cloth," she said. She beckoned him over. "Here." She patted the couch. "You can sleep here, little dragon. It's not very big, but it'll be big enough and comfortable enough for you, and if you want me, I'll be sleeping in the bed."

It took two tries to get into it and he rolled over into the soft, clean pillows. It all smelled like Belle, all flowers and kindness and softness. "Thank you, Miss Belle," he whispered around another sleepy yawn.

She drew the blankets up around him, just like mama would, and stroked his hair. "Would you like a story?" she said, her voice all quiet and soft. "Or a lullaby?"

He peered sleepily at her. His eyes were trying to shut already, silly things. "Lul'by?"

She started to sing. Her voice was just like her all nice and soft and warm, and his eyes were heavy and he closed them.

Then there was a huge castle, and he was lost and running in the big halls with the high roof and tall windows, and Belle wasn't there, and he could see mama just ahead. Mama was calling him. He ran towards her, scared, and all the walls were getting taller and taller.

"Who has been touching my wheel?" A terrible voice rattled the walls around him and shadows came from all over the place and mama was gone and Rumpelstiltskin was running and scared and there was a man in a long, long cloak, throwing fire and sparks at him.

He sat up with a frightened cry. He was all tangled in blankets and shaky and he wanted mama to hug him and stroke his hair, but mama wasn't there and the sorcerer was going to come back and hurt him.

He scrambled down from the couch, tripping over his nightshirt and falling on his knees once, then again, and ran to belle's bed. He was shaking so hard he could barely climb up and he couldn't find her. It was all dark and he couldn't find her, and it was all big and scary and he didn't know what to do.

Warm hands caught him and he almost screamed in fright.

"Hush," she whispered, wrapping him up in her arms. "Hush. It's all right. I'm here."

He clung onto her, hands all tangled in her nightdress. "There was a monster," he whispered, and his face was wet and hot and he couldn't stop shaking. She rocked him gently, and lifted the blankets, drawing him into the bed beside her.

"It was just a dream, little dragon," she whispered, stroking his hair. She was all calm, and brave and not all shaky, and he couldn't stop crying, even when she stroked his hair and told him. "Just a dream. Don't worry. I'm here."

He clung onto her tightly. It was safe with her. He was safe as long as he was beside her. She wouldn't let anything hurt him. He buried his face in her shoulder, and tried to breathe like she was breathing, in and out and in and out, all calm and soft.

It was the first ray of sunlight that woke him.

Rumpelstiltskin stirred, disorientated.

He remembered reaching the front doors of his castle, reeling from a curse that the West witch had thrown at him. He had been muttering the words over and over, trying to work out what curse she was trying to inflict, and his head had been reeling.

Now…

He frowned.

He was resting against someone's body, someone warm, all but curled. He lifted his head warily, and by the faint light could see Belle's face. Belle. He looked around, his heart thundering. He was in Belle's bedroom. No, even worse. He was not only in her bedroom. He was in her bed, with her.

He stared at her blankly for a moment.

No matter what curse he was under, he would never have done anything to harm her, he knew that. So why would she have willingly allowed him into her bed, ruining what was left of her virtue and reputation?

With care not to wake her, he slipped from the bed, smoothing the covers down over her, and looked around, seeking some answer.

He almost tripped over an abandoned pair of child's boots, and then saw the couch, made up in a small and makeshift bed. He remembered watching her make the bed. He frowned, images flickering, memories adjusting themselves. He remembered soup and hunting for treasure and spinning with hands much smaller than they were now. He remembered sobbing in terror and soft, warm hands stroking his hair, and a calm, gentle voice telling him that he was safe. That she was there to look after him. That she was there forever.

Rumpelstiltskin stood in his captive housekeeper's chamber, his hands tangling in front of his chest, in a daze.

Belle was rapidly unravelling all his perceptions of her.

Anyone else, anyone in the world that he had encountered, would have taken advantage of his cursed state. She could have had her freedom, if she had asked it of him. She could have made him do anything. She could have hurt him in ways that made him shudder in terror.

But she hadn't.

Instead, she had fed him, clothed him, and cared for him.

He made his way from the room, half-blind, stunned.

She promised forever, and given the chance, she hadn't tried to break their deal.

Rumpelstiltskin wasn't sure how long he walked the halls for. He eventually found himself dressed and in the spinning room. There was more gold there and no straw. All done by his own hands, while cursed. He remembered the thoughts that assailed him, the simple thought of helping his mother with magic, and it was like a blade. Magic never helped anyone he cared for, not then and certainly not now.

He was turning the spinning wheel slowly, absently, when he heard the patter of her footsteps in the hall.

"You're all right!" She sounded relieved, and that - too - felt strange and alarming.

He couldn't bear to look at her, not yet, knowing she had seen him helpless, vulnerable, and afraid. "I had an unfortunate encounter with a quite powerful witch," he murmured, wondering if she would acknowledge what had happened. "I imagine the curse had some unpleasant side effects." He tilted his head just enough to look at her from the corner of his eye. She was dishevelled, and still in her nightdress. He could see the creases where his small hands had clutched at her in the night. "I hope it didn't cause you any inconvenience."

She stared at him blankly. "You don't remember?" she said, a hitch in her voice.

It was doubt, it was fear, that spurred his tongue. "Was it terrible? Boils? Sickness?"

She looked down. "No," she said quietly. She wasn't lying, of that he was sure. "No trouble at all." She raised her blue eyes to his, the understanding and acceptance there breathtaking. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"I am." He looked back at the wheel, dazed. She had seen him as nothing, and yet, she still would let him retain his pride. She was protecting him from his own fear. "Thank you." His fingers slid along the rim of the wheel lightly. "I seem to be out of straw."

"Yes." Her voice was hesitant for a moment. "You wanted to spin. I thought it might help. Keep you busy, kind of thing, until the curse wore off."

He nodded. Foolish kind brave woman. "Breakfast, dearie?" he asked. His voice felt hoarse, strained, but he doubted she would notice. It was all he could think to say.

"Oh!" She sounded flustered. "Right! I forgot."

He couldn't stop a quiet laugh. "And to dress, I notice," he murmured. He saw the colour flood her face before she whirled around and grabbed the door handle. "You must have had a terrible night."

She paused, looking over her shoulder. "I've had a lot worse." It was a loaded statement, saying much more than needed to be said. She smiled. "I'll get breakfast."

"Belle." Her name escaped before he could stop it, and he took a breath. She had cared for him when she had no reason to. She had been kind, when she could have been cruel. She had provided him with affection, when his mother was missing. She deserved to be showered with gold and jewels and all the wonders of the world. But he knew what she would value more than anything else. "I was thinking you might like to write to your father today, hmm?"

The astonished joy on her face swept away any doubts he might have had. "Really?"

He focussed his attention on the wheel. He couldn't look her in the eye, not when the truth was told. "Mm." He traced the rim lightly. "I think you deserve a little token of appreciation for your work."

"Looking after the castle?"

He glanced sidelong at her. "No," he said quietly. "Looking after a frightened child."

Her mouth dropped open. "You do remember."

He almost smiled. Almost laughed. Almost did and said a dozen things. But he didn't. Instead, he just inclined his head. She had cared for him. She said forever and she meant it. She was brave and kind and good, and she deserved that little trust from him.

"A dragon never forgets," he said quietly.