Good Deal chapter 9

I Guess This Is My Life Now

The sun rose on the other side of the castle while Belle slept. The sun painted the sky out her window in hues of pink and lavender. Belle woke slowly, as one does from a deep and satisfying sleep. She rolled to squeeze the pillow under her head and doze about for a few more minutes. "Few more minutes," she mumbled with her eyes closed.

Rumpelstiltskin ended the scrying spell over the basin of water in his workroom. He supposed it was probably lazy to scry for someone in the same building, but he might as well. He didn't want to risk waking her again, as he had almost done when rearranging her on the chaise. To prevent neck cricks, he justified. Nobody likes waking up with a crick in their neck. Or cramps in their legs, or shoes on their feet.

Humans are social creatures, they should be around others like them. He picked up his magickal knitting needles and continued his project. He ought to find some peers for his human, to keep her entertained and fulfilled. She has proven that she can be of use in the way of medicine, and in leadership. He thought back to his village. He has plenty of people for her to interact with, maybe even to help. That is where she gets her satisfaction, he noted. Making the world a better place, or some slosh like that. Rumpelstiltskin looked down to find that it was time to cast off the needle. He did so, and planned his next excursion to the village. Lords check in on their people, don't they? He hadn't visited since…well, since last winter when the storm of the decade rolled in and the temperatures were too low to survive. There were two newborns then, and they needed protecting. Always been soft for babies, haven't I? Rumpelstiltskin brushed that thought away. Too close to painful memories.

He cleansed the scrying basin with smoke, and peered in to see how his villagers had been since the last time he checked in on them.

Across the castle, Belle finally woke for the day. The sky seemed clear and blue, the way it does when you know that the wind is crisp and tastes sweet and fresh. Pulling herself to consciousness, she gathered her shoes—must have kicked them off last night—her fallen diary, and the pillow from her bed. Odd. But she trudged back to her room, following the lit stone pathway into her bedroom. She put the pillow back on her bed and arranged her shoes neatly in the wardrobe