A/N: My first OUAT fic, mostly structured to be short snippets of time, one-shot length, that Belle spends with Rumpelstiltskin per their original deal. The pattern and chronology will show as the story progresses. I don't own the characters.

The stable reeked, the armor clanked—she would be caught. On some level, she knew she would be. It had all gone too smoothly, finding armor that fit, saving discarded arrows until twenty-five filled a quiver, and even creeping out of her room, going down, down, down the spiral staircase out of the tower all the way to the stables. All that remained was to saddle up and ride out to...

"Belle!"

She hopped about to keep from falling. She had been just ready to mount the horse when her father, nightcap and all, stood with his mouth hanging open at the stable entrance.

"How did you..."

"I was tired and planned on retiring early." He waved a piece of paper at her. "I take it you expected me to see this much later in the night, didn't you, after you had a few hours' head start?"

"It just doesn't seem right that everyone else has to fight," she said.

"What on earth were you thinking? You'd rather go kill yourself than marry Gaston?"

"Why are you so certain I wouldn't make it?" she asked, pride stinging.

"Come now, Belle. You can't bear to crush a spider much less ram a spear into a man," he sighed, taking a seat at one of the benches. He motioned for her to join him. "Combat aside, what bothers you so?"

"Is there..." Come on then, she encouraged herself. He did ask you what was wrong. "There isn't a way to get out of an arranged marriage, is there?"

"Not really," her father said, shaking his head with a gentle smile. "There are lots of ways, but they end up causing more trouble than they're worth. Does Gaston have no good points at all?"

"I'm sure he does. I just haven't found them yet." What a cruel thing to say. Shame on you. She twirled a lock of hair and tucked it back into her braid. "I'd rather face the ogres."

She prepared to reassure her father again, but he kept reticent, his eyes heavy with burden. His hands clasped together with his thumb wringing the other.

"Things have reached that point," he said. "It's time."

"All your counselors advised against it," she argued. "You can't."

"What choice do we have? It's only a matter of time before those brutes come terrorizing the village."

"Can you pay the same steep prices other people have?"

"The needs of the people must come first." Her father rose and held out his hand to her. There's still the horse, she thought, saddle and bridle all set. All set to send another rider to unavoidable doom. "Whatever the cost, we must be willing to pay it."

"Are you sure?" She searched every nook of her brain for an alternative and found nothing. Her father's pat on her arm failed to soothe her.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."