An Apprentice in Magic Chapter III

A/N: The cover for this one was designed by NicoleMuenchSeidel.  She is the author of FF such as Journey of Twin Souls and many other beautiful stories.

Chapter 3

            Rumple placed books, parchment, and quills on the working table he set up for his new apprentice.  He smiled to himself, pleased by his triumphant achievement at claiming the daughter of Isabelle, one of the powerful members of his old order, as his apprentice before anyone else could claim her.  He had known Isabelle, but spoke to her very little.  She showed kindness and respect towards him as a friend and fellow magic user.  His relationship with the other members of the order had been far more complicated.  His brother’s Rasputin and Rothbart abused him, Jafar didn’t even acknowledge Rumple, seeing him as beneath him, Glinda felt the same, and Elphaba treated everyone the same.  Cora, the youngest, did shamelessly flirt with Rumple, but with the desire of combining their magic together, not because she loved him. 

           

            Cora hated Isabelle, knowing she could surpass Cora in magic and had won the heart of Lord Maurice. Isabelle found out about how she was deceiving Rumple by pretending to love him, and tried to warn Rumple of Cora’s deceit.  Rumple refused to listen, believing it was Isabelle’s own jealously as Cora made him think Isabelle was the one, who envied her.  Cora found out about this and punished the other sorceress by trying to poison her, but what she didn’t count on was Maurice requesting Rumplestiltskin’s help.  He knew this was Cora’s work, recognizing her specialty in making poisons.  It hurt him and he didn’t want to believe, but when he tricked old lover she accidentally revealed the truth, and he continued to help save Isabelle making a deal with her fiancé.

            When Maurice had called Rumplestiltskin many years later, when she became sick again, he found she was beginning to wither away.  Rumple could not figure out what Cora had done to her, because he didn’t recognize the poison, so he lied to Maurice saying he wouldn’t save her unless his first price was met. Taking on her daughter as his apprentice was not only his way of honoring his friend, but if she was anything like her mother, Belle could help him to get to the land without magic.

~Page Break~

            When she found herself lost, Belle spotted Charlotte in the hallway and asked for her help.  She brushed off the dust on her gold ball gown as she followed Charlotte as she led her to the room that doubled as the dining room and collection room. Thankfully, she had five minutes to spare before Rumplestiltskin arrived.  Lord Maurice had always told his daughter as future Lady of Avonlea it was important to be prompt during meetings of any kind as it showed great respect to the other person.  Charlotte pulled out Belle’s chair, offering her a seat just as a woman with short brown hair, that was losing its color, emerged from the doors behind Belle carrying two bowls of soup.

           

            “Miss Belle, I’m Elizabeth Grayson, the Dark Castle’s housekeeper, and I believe you’ve already met my sister, Charlotte.” Elizabeth introduced herself to Belle, “If there is anything you need I’m at your service and so is Lottie.”

            “Thank you Elizabeth.  I’m glad to have met you,” Belle replied, “Lottie told me about what brought you here. How you owed a debt to Rumplestiltskin.”

            “He is a good master.  A little rough around the edges, but he is fair and kind to us.  He’s only cruel to those who try to cheat him, are cruel to children, or to women.”

            Belle contemplated this new piece of information.  She had heard stories about Rumplestiltskin; how he skinned children for their pelts, how he charged a steep price for his deals—that was obviously true--, how he could spin straw into gold, and how he would ruin women, but from what, at least two, of his servants implied not all the stories were true, just a mere fabrication.  Belle would have to make her own decision about him, but right now, he wasn’t her favorite person.

            “Why isn’t he here yet?”  she inquired looking towards the door and back at the two sisters, “I was sure he would be here before me.  It seemed important that I be here on time,” Belle said.

           

            “Rumplestiltskin is probably in his laboratory right now, but he should be down soon,” Elizabeth said, “Rumplestiltskin likes his students to be, not only studious, but also prompt.”

            “Actually, I think he has the wrong person.  I know nothing about magic, but maybe I can be a servant instead,” Belle protested.

            “Rumplestiltskin doesn’t change his deals,” Charlotte explained, “but he is never wrong about people.  If he sees you have magic then you must have it.”

            She knitted her brow, not understanding what made Rumplestiltskin think she had magic or could learn it.  Charlotte and Elizabeth returned to the kitchen as they would have to bring out each dish as Rumple and Belle finished.

           

            Belle rested her hands on her lap as she sat up straight waiting for Rumplestiltskin to arrive.  “He insists I get here early, but he’s late?!” she thought, discontented by his rudeness.

            Her eyes explored her surroundings, finding his collection of objects fascinating.  There was a spinning wheel in front of one of the closed windows, a glass cabinet full of, what Belle guessed, were valuable items. There was a golden fleece, shining sword, and a gold goblet on display. 

            The little clock on the table behind the table struck, and she sighed as ten minutes passed and Rumplestiltskin had not arrived. Getting restless, Belle’s eyes were drawn to the spinning wheel.  It was nothing special, just a wooden spinning wheel, but she had heard rumors of Rumplestiltskin’s ability to spin straw into gold. 

            Getting up, she slowly came within reach of the spinning wheel and cocking her head to the side curiously she touched the wood of the wheel.  Her hands caressed the wheel, moving it in a circular motion back and forth. Her eyes were memorized by the rhythmic motion of it that she didn’t hear him come in.

           

            She jumped at the sound of his impish voice. “When I asked you to be on time or early, you certainly listened.  You surprise me, dearie,” he giggled, but what he received in return was an eye roll.

            “Shall we?”  He gestured towards the table smirking.

            Belle nodded following him. “I hope the soup hasn’t grown cold.”

            “I can always heat it if need be,” he said shrugging.

            Rumplestiltskin surprised Belle by pulling out her chair. “Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome dearie, but you are a ‘princess’.  I’m sure you expect me to pull out your chair all the time,” he quipped, smirking.  Noble ladies were all the same and they always had expectations to be spoiled.  If she had been raised by Isabelle she wouldn’t be, but she was raised by Lord Maurice, so he had no doubt in his mind what she expected.

            They both were quiet during the meal, but by the time they began eating dessert, which was small cakes of different flavors, Belle posed her question that had been bothering her since he told her she wasn’t going to be his caretaker, but his apprentice.

            “You told me I am to be your apprentice, but how can I be when I know nothing of magic?”

            “You don’t waste any time do you,” he said giggling, “Even if you didn’t already have magic in you I could teach dearie.  Magic is about harnessing your emotions, and if you can do that then you can harness magic.  In your case, you were born with it,” Rumplestiltskin explained in a matter of fact tone.

             “How could I not know I have magic?  Does my father know?  Is that why he is so against it?”  She questioned. 

            Her curiosity at his reveal of her having magic got the best of her, and she hoped he would answer the questions that whirred through her mind.

            “No, your idiotic father knew nothing,” he replied, “his fear of magic just came from his limited knowledge of it.”

            Belle ignored the insult directed at her father. “Where does my magic come from if not my father?”

            “Your mother of course,” he said as popped one of cakes into his mouth.

            “My mother, was a sorceress?” She stared at him disbelief, “but how could my father not know my mother was one?”

            “There are ways to hide yourself as a magic wielder,” he replied, disgruntled by her surprise that neither she nor her father knew this piece of information.  “If you stop asking questions I can explain it.” 

            She glowered at him, but kept quiet as he continued to explain this unknown history.

            “Your mother was part of an ancient order of magic users known as, The Order of Sub Rose Arcana.  It is or was an order that preserved magic and protected the people of this realm, but when Zoso took over, their purpose had become corrupt.  Your mother realized this and tried to stop Zoso, but risked the wrath of, not only Zoso himself, but his followers.  Your mother has, unfortunately, passed on to the next world, and you being her daughter, must preserve her legacy,” he explained this all, studying Belle’s expression at the same time. 

            It was no surprise she was frightened, for only an insane person would accept this without fear or hesitation, but Rumple didn’t have time to be delicate right now.  Rumple needed Belle to accept and learn about her legacy now, because she was the only one who could help him to get to Baelfire. 

            Cora had manipulated the Blue Fairy into sending Baelfire to a land without magic, because she made the fairy believe Rumple was a threat to his son, along with everyone else.  Blue was such an arrogant self- righteous, ignorant creature that she actually believed Cora, and convinced Bae that the only way to help keep his father away from the darkness that consumed him was for them to go to a world without magic.  In his own fear of the swirling vortex that could transport them anywhere, and his distrust of the Blue Fairy, Rumple let go of his son’s hand, and the boy fell deep into the green vortex.  Rumple searched for many centuries for his son, but continued to pretend to be an ally of the order, creating his reputation as the Dark One.

            “May I speak?” Belle asked, hesitantly.

            “Of course,” he replied.

            “I know why she didn’t tell my father and kept her identity as a sorceress a secret, but why keep it from me?  I’m her daughter,” Belle said frowning at the thought of her mother keeping a secret from her.

            “You were eight,” he said rolling his eyes, “do you think she was going to tell an eight year old that she was a sorceress, especially in a world where magic is feared? You would be endangering constantly and couldn’t defend yourself, so as long as you didn’t know you were safe.”

            “Alright fine, but it would have been nice to know,” she said, “then maybe I could have saved her.”

            “I doubt it dearie.  I couldn’t even save her, and I’m a very powerful wizard, but at least know who is responsible for that and who killed her,” he said sounding for a moment sympathetic, but it passed quickly to a more business manner.   “I can teach you now, so eventually you can get your revenge on the woman killed your mother.” 

            She gaped at Rumplestiltskin’s proposition of revenge.  Belle was angry about her mother’s death and wished she had been in her life longer, but she had never considered revenge until now.  Did she want revenge?  Why wouldn’t she?  Then again, could she punish another, even if they killed her mother?  Her mother wouldn’t want her to seek revenge.  This woman killed her mother without question, so why doesn’t she deserve to be punished the same way? 

           

~Page Break~

            A week later, Belle was in Rumplestiltskin’s laboratory in a blue frock and white blouse taking notes while he lectured.  She scribbled away at her parchment as he explained the history of the first sorcerer, Merlin.

            “Once Merlin established himself as Arthur’s servant, it was easier for him to fulfill his destiny as the future king of Camelot, but of course, Merlin didn’t know about his destiny.  He just knew he had magic.  Unfortunately, for Merlin, he had to keep his magic hidden because Uther Pendragon, Arthur’s father, feared magic, because he believed it was the cause of his wife’s death.”

            Belle paused with her pen. “My father told me this story.  She died in child birth, and the sorceress, Nimueh had been the cause.  That she had poisoned her.”

            “It is possible, and there is much debate.  Naturally, those like your father would jump to that conclusion. That is why your mother never told your father the truth about herself, because his closed mindedness would turn him against her,” he answered her question hiding his clenched fist as he spoke, but Belle could hear the hard edge in her teacher’s tone. 

            She wondered if his feelings were just because her mother and Rumple were friends of the same magical order, or if he had feelings for her mother. The thought of this man being in love with her mother bothered her, but she wasn’t sure why. 

           

            “Was it because she didn’t like anyone other than my own papa? Not that I believe my mother would betray papa like that, I don’t think.  Was it because I thought he was scary?  No after spending a week with him I realize he just has a bit of a temper.  On my first day, I was late because I got lost trying to find this tower, and he was quite infuriated.  He yelled at me for an hour threatening to drag me out of bed himself, the glass encasings shook, and his expression of discontent at my logical reasoning of why was rather amusing.  No, I don’t know what bothered me about the thought of him possibly being in love with my mother. He probably just doesn’t like unjust treatment of magic users,” Belle debated to herself.

           

            “Now enough note taking,” he said, “it’s time for putting things into practice and see what skills are buried deep within. I want you to think of memories where you were the most emotional.  Magic is triggered by emotions, and some abilities are triggered by certain emotions.”

            Belle closed her eyes searching through her memories, trying to find times when she was most emotional.  Memories of when she was angry, upset, afraid, and ecstatic came to the surface of her mind.

            “I want you to take those memories and lock them in a box in your mind, but be able to summon them at will,” he said.

            She raised her brows, but nodded imagining putting her memories in a box. 

            “What next?”  Belle questioned, opening her eyes.

            “What’s next is we try a little magic,” he said.  Rumplestiltskin placed an unlit candle on the table.  “I want you to light this candle and then put it out.  Now, concentrate and focus on the task at hand.”

            Narrowing her eyes, Belle stared at candle imagining a swaying, yellow, orange flame standing on the black wick.  Suddenly, a real flame appeared on the wick winking at Belle.

            “I did it,” she exclaimed.

            “That’s the easy part. Now, put it out,” he ordered.

            Once again she focused on the candle trying to extinguish the light, but it took a little more time to extinguish the light than it was to ignite it.  The light kept wanting to stay lit, but when she swiped her hand across out of frustration the light went out.

            She looked up cringing at her new teacher’s expression. “Well I put it out,” she said sheepishly.

            “It happened because you let your frustration get the best of you,” he said, his eyes closed massaging his temples with his two fingers. She was becoming more difficult than he had anticipated, and her natural ability wasn’t as easy to harness.

            “Alright now capture the flame,” he said.

            “You mean hold the flame?” she questioned.

            “Yes,” he replied.

            “But what if I burn my hand?” she asked.

            “I will heal you after, I promise,” he said, not unkindly, “just pick it up carefully and cup it in your hand.”

            She did as he had instructed, lighting the candle once more with her mind and slowly tried to grab the flame.  Every time she touched the flame, she jerked her hand away as she felt the heat and feared the sting on her flesh.  After three more attempts, she narrowed her eyes, biting her tongue, as she focused on grabbing, and not thinking about what it could do to her hand.

            She jerked her hand away as she felt the sting of the flames on her fingertips.  Belle cringed and rubbed her fingers.  “That is impossible,” she protested.

            Taking her hand, Rumple’s hand hovered over her fingers and a glowing purple light emulated from his own hand.  The warmth of the magic coming from his hand was surprisingly pleasant.  

            “Let’s try again. Just picture yourself holding the flame and don’t think about heat.  It feels like you’re holding an ice cube,” Rumple said, standing behind her. 

            As difficult a student as she was, Rumple had to admit Belle had perseverance, and he liked that about her, just like her mother. 

            Taking a deep breath, Belle let Rumple’s suggestion inspired her and closing her eyes she imagined the flame was an ice cube as she reached for it.  Easing her hand underneath the flame she pictured herself scooping it up and balancing it in her hand. 

            “Open your eyes,” he said.

            Her eyes bulged with astonishment. “Amazing,” she said as flame balanced, and dancing in the palm of her hand.

            “Very good, and now, I want you to put it out, so it won’t burn you again,” he said.

            She blushed as she put the flame back on the wick, and her cheeks flushed as she blew out the flame.

~Page Break~

            Belle spent the next few weeks reading the Rumple’s books on magic and practicing, then performing for her teacher, the practical forms of magic, such as the lighting and blowing out of the candle.  Holding a flame in the palm of her hand still took some time to master, but Belle was determined to be able to do it.

            She also learned to levitate objects, but often times would lose her concentration, causing them to either hit herself or Rumplestiltskin on the head. The first few times this happened he tried to show patience’s, but it was beginning to wear thin.

            “Focus please,” he said through gritted as he rubbed from his head getting conked on by another book.

            “I’m trying, but it’s not easy levitating something so heavy,” she snapped, “Besides, I think you have a message.”  Belle was used to seeing messenger Dove with special requests of Rumplestiltskin, so it was no surprised their lessons were interrupted by his dove at the window. 

            Rumple removed the rolled up parchment from the dove’s leg and fed it bread crumbs that had appeared in his hand.  He lovingly stroked the dove with his finger, while reading what was on the parchment that was in his other hand. His eyes scanned the parchment reading it carefully, and once he was finished, he scribbled a response on another parchment, sending the dove back out.

            Belle cocked her head to side curiously, finding his gentle nature towards animals intriguing and surprising.  Most men were cruel or at least much rougher with animals.  Gaston had a passion for hunting, which was something that didn’t help his cause in winning her heart, and it was one of his favorite topics of discussion.

            “It seems I have business to attend to, so I suggest that you study some, as well as write a letter to your father,” he lectured.

            “I study,” she said defensively.                                                                                             

            “I’m talking about doing more the reading the texts,” he said.

            She rolled her eyes, but nodded respectfully.

~Page Break~

            Belle spent two hours studying the texts and practicing her levitation skills, and she began to feel that without Rumple’s presence she was less tense.  She felt this desperate desire not to disappoint her new teacher and was hurt when he snapped at her in frustration. She still kept dropping objects, but it happened less and less during times she was alone. 

            Taking a break, she left the tower to return to her bedchamber to write a letter to her father, informing him she was content and safe.   Charlotte was already in the room dusting the furniture.  Belle looked over at the wooden desk that Rumple had made by the young wood carver, Geppetto, and found that her quill, ink, and parchment were ready for her.

            “I knew you be coming soon to write, so I prepared everything for you,” Charlotte said curtsying.

            “Thank you Lottie,” Belle replied, “and what did I tell you?  You don’t have to curtsy to me.”

            “Sorry Miss Belle.  It’s a bit of a habit,” Charlotte replied. 

            Belle approached her new friend, hugging her.  “I know,” she said kissing Charlotte on the cheek. “How’s your day been so far?”

            “It’s been a busy day, but I don’t mind,” she said sighing with exhaustion.  “I just hate when Lizzie isn’t here.”

            “Where is Lizzie?  I usually see her doing her daily chores,” Belle said.

            “Unfortunately, the master sent her on a secret errand, but she will never tell me what those usually are,” Charlotte admitted, fidgeting.

            “I’m sure she’s safe and will be back soon,” Belle said, smiling as she took Charlotte’s hand squeezing it gently. 

            “Well, I’ll leave you for now miss, so you can write your letter,” Charlotte said.

            “You don’t have to go.  I would love to talk,” Belle replied.

            “I still have chores to do,” Charlotte said.

            “Alright, well if you ever want to talk, I’m here.  I would appreciate a female companion as well since there are some things I can only talk about to another woman,” Belle said.

            Charlotte replied, “I can understand, and I would like that too.”

            Charlotte left feeling relieved that she had a friend in Belle, because most of Master Rumple’s apprentices treated her like she was insignificant, and Elizabeth had many of these secret errands she was sent on, so having Belle for conversation would be nice.

            Once Charlotte left, Belle sat down at her desk, dipping her quill in ink, began her letter to her papa.

            “My dearest Papa,

            How are you?  I miss you terribly and wish you were here, but I know that is not possible.  Maybe I can convince Rumplestiltskin to let you come visit me.  He is not too keen on visitors as he has quite a temper when unwelcome guests come, but if I arrange things with him maybe he will accept your visit.  Hope things are well at home, and you are not lonely.

            My life still continues to be stressful and is not always pleasing, but I am still quite content.  I told you about Charlotte and Elizabeth.  I do not get a chance to talk to them as much as I would like, but today I suggested to Charlotte that if she needs someone to talk to I am here.  Oh, by the way, I found someone who might actually oppose you at chess: Mrs. Pott’s son, Chip is quite the player and can give you a run for your coins.”

            Belle paused, for she was tempted to share her lessons in magic, but knew her father  would come straight away or send Gaston to “rescue her”, but she was enjoying learning magic and didn’t want to be rescued.  It was a way for her to connect with her mother in a way she couldn’t before.  After a brief hesitation, she returned to penning her letter.

           

            “I know you are still worried, but as I assured you before, Rumplestiltskin is a good and respectful master.  He continues to treat me well and has not harmed or intended harm towards me in anyway.    I hope Gaston is well and the rest of our friends and servants.

Yours Affectionately,

Belle”

            She had only added the last part about hoping Gaston was well to pacify her father, as no matter what she said he wouldn’t listen to reason and needed proof that Gaston wasn’t a good husband.   It was frustrating, because even though her father knew she was capable of ruling on her own, he was convinced she needed a husband, and Gaston was bested suited for her.  He had the finances, security, and Maurice believed the knight loved his daughter.

            She sealed the letter, and found Rumple’s dove in one of the towers. “Do you mind making another trip?”  The dove blinked and nipped at sleeve of her gown.  She fed him some corn before attaching the rolled up letter to the dove’s foot.   She picked up the dove, stroking him with her fingers before setting him free.

~Page Break~

            In Avonlea, Maurice was going through his requests from the villagers and his more important documents when he heard tapping behind him, and there was a familiar of a dove at the window, waiting for him to open it.  The dove carried a letter written in Belle’s fine script assuring him once again she was alright, but as he read he frowned, narrowing his eyes.  He didn’t trust what her letters said, but refrained from performing any actions due to Belle’s request that he not to try to have her rescued, but Maurice was no longer comfortable with accepting just her letters.

            “Jean-Luc, tell Gaston I received another letter from Belle,” Maurice told his page, who was standing at the entrance into the throne room.

            The young man nodded. “Yes sir,” he said and left to retrieve Gaston.

            Maurice read the letter a couple more times while he waited for Jean-Luc to return with Gaston.

            “My Lord, you received a message from Belle?” Gaston asked as came into throne room, “Did he hurt her? Is she imprisoned?”

            “That is the perculiar thing Gaston, in each of the letter’s she has sent she says she’s content and not to come,” Maurice said showing Gaston the letter.

            Gaston furrowed his brow and snatched letter scanning it.  “You believe this?!”

            Maurice raised his brow at Gaston’s tone. “Forgive me, my lord, but in my experience if someone stresses for you not to come rescue them it’s out of fear of what would be done to her or her rescuer.  She is clearly frightened, and we are talking about the Dark One,” Gaston insisted, clenching his fist in frustration.

            “I’m not entirely sure Gaston.  What if my daughter’s letter isn’t out of fear and she is content,” he replied.

            “My Lord,” Gaston protested angrily, “We cannot let Belle suffer any longer.”

            “We don’t know if she is suffering, Gaston,” Maurice pointed out still uncertain himself. “We’ll wait for another letter.  If there is any hint that she is unhappy or endanger, I’ll consider sending you and some of my men after her.”

            “Alright Sir,” Gaston said bowing to his lord.  Glowering, as he stood out in the hall, Gaston went in search of a way to convince Maurice that Belle wasn’t safe where she was and how could he doubt it anyway? After all they were dealing with the Dark One, and he probably felt he owned her now.  Belle was his, not the Dark One’s, and the God’s be damned if he let someone in on his territory. 

            “Pierre, send Lefou to my quarters,” Gaston ordered his man, who was standing the door to his chambers.

            “Right away sir,” Pierre said and went to fetch the Gaston’s apprentice and spy.

            Gaston found Lefou when he was twelve.   Lefou’s father was killed in battle and his mother had been very ill, so Gaston took him to train him as a potential knight and became a spy for Gaston.  Lefou was good at pick pocketing something he was taught by his childhood friend, Jiminy, and taking in information to remember later.

            Lefou came running in stumbling as he entered the room.  Wobbling as he stood up Lefou brushed off dust from his trousers.

            “You sent for me Sir Gaston?” Lefou asked.

            “Yes, I have a mission for you,” Gaston said, sitting down at his desk, “I want you to spy on the Dark One and keep an eye on Lady Belle.  I want to know if she is happy and safe there.”

            Lefou shivered.  “You want me to ssspp…spy on Rumplestiltskin?”

            “Yes,” Gaston replied pounding his foot on his desk. “Is that too difficult of a task?”

            Lefou shook his head vigorously. “No, of course not!”

            “Good,” Gaston said smirking, “Report everything that goes on in the Dark Castle.”

            “How shall I get in?” He asked his master.

            Gaston shrugged. “I don’t know get creative.”

            Lefou quickly left and began to prepare for his journey to the Dark Castle once his master dismissed him.