Author's Note – Just to be perfectly clear from the get-go…this is NOT a rape fic! Belle will not be raped by anyone at any time.

While she does sleep with wealthy nobles in exchange for gold, I will not write those scenes; those will be reserved for Rumple! I may, however, write the scenes immediately preceding or following any sexual encounters with her patrons. You have been warned.

If you enjoyed my other story, "By Night One Way, By Day Another," then I think you'll like this one as well, although there will not be anywhere near as much smut. For now the M rating is due to the subject matter and not due to anything explicit. This is, at its heart, a love story and I will do my best to keep it light.

I absolutely adore Reviews (they make me write faster!) and while constructive criticism is always welcome, please no flaming! I realize that this is not something that Belle would normally do, that's why it is an AU!

Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Prologue

The young prince ran a hand through his short blond hair in impatience and checked his reflection in the cracked looking-glass for the seventh time since his arrival. He brushed away invisible creases in his black silk chemise and flicked his tongue over soft, smooth lips, smiling in satisfaction at the results.

He was perfect, as usual.

Only his personal valet knew the extent to which he went to maintain his looks; bees wax on his lips four times a day, a coating of goat's milk and honey on his face at night (when he was home) or, while away with his men or at war, a gentle dab of lanolin on his forehead and in the creases around his eyes.

He forewent the lanolin this evening, though, since he didn't want to be smelling of the stables tonight. That was fine around soldiers who would mistake it for the masculine scent of hard work and dedication.

It was not, however, a scent one wears while seducing a beautiful woman.

Although seducing is probably not the right word to describe what he would be doing tonight. The heavy gold coins weighing down his purse should be compensation enough to skip the need for foreplay. He didn't give a damn about being charming. Tonight was all about him.

If she ever arrived, that is, he thought petulantly. Patience had never been one of his virtues and tonight was no exception.

He looked around the spacious but sparse guest room in the crumbling fortress in disgust. The Ogres War had certainly hit the small Kingdom hard. If rumors were to be believed (and by the looks of the collapsing villages he saw as he passed through their lands, they were accurate) the Marshlands were on the brink of financial collapse.

His chambers were warm and comfortable, it's true, but there was neither a trace of silk nor lace in the linens, no tapestries on the walls to break up the monotonous dark stonework, and the chalice that accompanied his wine was made of pewter instead of gold. It was certainly not befitting royalty; at least, not the type of royalty with whom he or his father normally associated.

The heavy oak doors opened with a resounding creak as the metal hinges rubbed together dryly. The prince quickly jumped unto the feather mattress and posed languidly across the bed. He sent the lone figure entering his most smoldering look.

"Keep your shirt on, your majesty," said an annoyed male voice. "It's only me."

"Sir Gaston," he sneered, quickly re-fastening a couple of errant buttons. "I'm not used to being kept waiting."

"That's Prince Gaston now," he replied tiredly as he carefully shut the door behind him and locked it. "First things first. You have the gold?"

"Of course, your majesty." He jangled the velvet purse mockingly then tossed it to the newly crowned prince. "One hundred gold coins, as agreed. And if I may make a suggestion, use a couple of those to spruce up the place. A splash of color here, a marble statue there…your castle is really quite depressing, you know."

"Well, I'm sorry our humble accommodations are not up to your usual standards, Prince James," Gaston replied sarcastically. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but an army of ogres recently visited our lands and they weren't exactly hospitable guests. I have far more important plans for this gold than art and silk."

"Uh huh. That's a real shame." He carefully studied his recently manicured nails, already bored of his neighboring kingdom's plight. "So…what is going on? For a hundred pieces of gold this had better be worth it."

"Oh, it's worth it all right," Gaston said quietly. He tied the satchel to the leather loop of his trousers and gestured to the pair of chairs sitting in front of the roaring fire. "But first we must discuss the rules."

"Rules?" he said with a sneer. "Have you never heard of the Golden Rule, my friend?" He reluctantly sat down and leaned in to whisper in his host's ear. "Whoever has the gold makes the rules! I have more of it than the likes of you could ever dream, Sir Gaston. And I don't like playing by anyone else's rules."

"Well if you don't want to follow my rules then I'm afraid we've wasted each other's time." Gaston's hands shook slightly as he undid the knot on the purse, as if every word pierced his pride. He grudgingly handed over the gold and turned away, back towards the door.

James gave him until the count of five before rolling his eyes in exasperation at the display and calling out. "All right! All right! Come back!" He had travelled several days for this little diplomatic mission and he wasn't about to leave unsatisfied. "Get on with your bloody rules already."

Gaston rubbed his hands together and smirked smugly as he returned to his seat. He held his palm up expectantly, waiting for the bag of gold to be returned to his outstretched hand, which it did with only a brief hesitation.

He leaned back into his seat with the all the confidence in the world and smiled at his eager guest. "Rule number one: her appearance means everything to this Kingdom, to her father, to her people…to me. Her beauty cannot be marred. Bruises and small cuts are forgivable and, as I understand, sometimes cannot be helped. But you are not to purposely hurt, burn, cut, or whip her and do try not to bite too hard."

"That doesn't sound like much fun," James interjected shrewdly and took a deep drink of wine.

"In return, she will be willing and compliant," continued Gaston. "Rule number two: there is to be absolute discretion! No exceptions. What is happening behind these doors is not public knowledge and no one can ever know where the gold is really coming from. We do have a reputation to uphold, after all. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, of course I do," Prince James replied testily. "And I hope that you understand that I expect discretion as well. My father has spent more than his fair share of the treasury on whores over the years but even he would object to such a large amount for only one night."

"Come now! What's a hundred pieces of gold between friends when it's going to fund such a noble cause?" Gaston winked conspiratorially and slapped the prince good-naturedly on the back. "But of course we fully understand your concerns. Discretion will be observed on both ends. As long as you give us no cause to do so, we will keep your involvement secret from wives, mistresses, mothers, or, as in your case, fathers."

"Excellent!" He gulped down the last of his wine and slammed the goblet down hard on the small table. "Now let's on get on with…"

"Rule number three," interrupted Gaston. The prince slumped back down in his chair, sighing, and gestured for the tall man to continue. "If at any time she orders you to stop…you will stop. If you do something that upsets her, makes her uncomfortable or hurts her in any way, she has the right to put an end to your night together. So you had better listen. If she feels threatened she can and will call on for help. And may the gods help you if the guards reach you before I do. They will not understand the situation and may act…rashly."

The prince vehemently glared at the former knight and dropped the friendly tone to his voice. "And if something were to ever happen to me, such as being accused of and punished for a heinous crime I did not commit, then it would not bode well for you…or your kingdom. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, your highness." Gaston smiled impishly and waved him forward. "Come. The night awaits."

The two men hopped up from their seats and the prince ran his hand through his short hair and once again undid his topmost buttons of his silk shirt. He was making his way back towards the bed when Gaston reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "Not here, your majesty. This way."

He gestured for the prince to follow him to the back of the room where a very large mahogany armoire took up most of the stone wall. Gaston easily heaved the heavy furniture aside a couple of feet and ran his hand almost lovingly over the masonry, his fingers dancing smoothly over the cool bricks.

Once he reached the fourth brick from the bottom, he pushed it in with his palm and quickly stepped back. The secret passage opened with a whoosh and the sudden change in air pressure made the flames from the wall sconces dance eerily on their wicks.

"These tunnels are centuries old," explained Gaston as he picked up a torch and slouched considerably in order to protect his head from the short ceiling. "Very few people are even aware of their existence. I believe they were once used as an emergency escape route for the royal family."

"I'm not exactly in the mood for a history lesson," grumbled the prince dryly. He hardly had to bend down at all in order to pass through the squat chasm. "Are all these theatrics really necessary? I mean, why can't she just come to my quarters and get it over with?"

"Remember rule number two, your highness? There is to be absolute discretion," Gaston barked sharply, casting the handsome young man a dark look over his shoulder. "No one, including the servants, is to know what is going on here. How would it look if you were seen sneaking around each other's quarters?"

The prince's reply was cut short as he quickly gripped the dark, damp wall for support. The floor had seemed to suddenly drop beneath him! An ancient stairwell curved down steeply and disappeared deep into darkness. He felt a pressing need to grab hold of the giant in front of him in case he lost his footing, but he managed to fight down the urge and kept his fidgety hands to himself. He still had his own reputation to uphold, after all, even in the deep bowels of a broken castle.

Several minutes and a few missed steps later, they finally arrived at a heavy wooden door, recently installed by the looks of the shiny metal hinges. His guide removed a wrought iron key from the chain around his neck and opened the hefty lock with ease.

Dozens of sconces decorated the walls, casting the room in gentle light as a mighty fire in the hearth fought the dampness of what must have been, at one point in time, a dark and gloomy dungeon. The sweet smell of floral perfume permeated the air, giving the illusion that they were near a luscious rose garden and not deep underground. The silks and riches that were lacking in the dreary upper castle were resplendent here! Scarlett and golden pillows littered every available surface while an enormous four poster bed was draped in several shades of blue.

But nothing could compare to the mesmerizing blue eyes that watched him from behind long, dark lashes. She was the most beautiful vision he had ever seen! Chestnut curls hung loosely down the back of a revealing, black lace nightgown that teased his senses. Her blood red lips curved up seductively as he smiled at her appreciatively.

He suddenly found the dungeon to be more than just comfortably warm.

Gaston draped an arm around her thin waist and pulled the short goddess to his side. Picking up her left hand with his right, he brought them to his lips and gently kissed her delicate knuckles.

"Prince James, I would like to introduce you to Princess Belle…my wife."