Belle slept.

She wasn't quite sure how, given how cross she was, but exhaustion caught up with her. Hours of walking to and from town, followed by Rumpelstiltskin's temper tantrum and all her hopes evaporating had been draining enough. Hours in a dungeon on top of that, then whatever silly magic trick he was doing to keep her bound to the dark castle only made things worse.

The sun was heading towards the horizon when she woke, and she contemplated the canopy of her bed for a few minutes before she sat up, going over everything that had been said and done within the last twenty-four hours.

The conclusion, she decided, was that he was an idiot.

She got up from the bed and pushed the curtains wide open. She had a view of the distant walls and gates and the mountains beyond. It was beautiful, but that didn't stop it being a prison again. Over the last few months, it had almost started to feel like a home, and now, with rage and stupidity and sheer bloody-mindedness, he had turned it back into a prison.

She took a breath. There was no use in moping about it. She could try and leave again, but first of all, she needed to get something to eat. Her stomach was practically growling. She hadn't eaten since her brief visit to the town, and even then, it was only a sweet pastry, hardly filling at all.

She dressed, then gathered up her blue dress. It was crusted with dirt along the hem, which annoyed her all over again. If he hadn't sent her out on the wild goose chase for freedom, it would still have been clean enough to wear again. She laid it over the chair. If leaving didn't work for the third time, then at least she had some cleaning to do.

Only when she reached the door of the room did she hesitate. For the first time since she had relocated from the dungeon, she had locked the door behind her. She turned the key, unlocking it, and promptly almost tripped over a small table just outside of the door. There was a teaset and cup, and even a carefully-made breakfast, steam still rising from the meat and eggs. She hadn't heard him sneaking about, so she guessed that he had enchanted it to stay warm.

It smelled good, but even a plate of perfectly-cooked bacon and eggs wasn't going to make up for the fact that he had been an idiot.

She ignored it and the protests of her stomach and stamped off in the direction of the kitchens to prepare her own.

With food in her belly, and some more packed up in a basket, she headed for the walls again. If he was skulking about - which she knew he would be, avoiding her and further confrontation like the coward he was - he didn't make his presence known.

She stepped through the gates with a sense of resignation, and wasn't the least bit surprised when her foot came down on the carpet of the grand dining room. He wasn't there, at least, so she didn't feel any guilt at all about kicking over one of the pedestals and leaving the shiny golden cup rolling on the floor.

By the time she got back to her room, the little table was gone. So he was definitely somewhere in the castle? Well, she wasn't going to chase after him. It wasn't worth the effort just to give him her best chastising look. If he wanted to hide like a coward, then he could hide. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of chasing him around.

She gathered up her dirty dress, cloak and shoes, and headed down to the laundry room. There was something soothing about scrubbing the fabric against the washboard. All the pent-up frustration could be taken out on the specks of mud.

By the time she emerged, her hands were red and her fingers ached, but her dress and cloak were clean and strung up to dry. Her shoes, unfortunately, were past salvation. There were stains in them that no scrubbing would get out, but really, who else was likely to see them?

The sun was gone, and the evening chill was descending on the castle. It was tempting to go to the dining room, with the fire that always burned in the broad fireplace. She stood in the hall for a long while, before finally walking to the doors. If he was there, he was there, but she was not going to lock herself away in a cold, dark room just because he was being a petulant man.

He was there, at his wheel, clad in the ragged, inhuman clothing he had worn the first time they met. He looked as nervous about seeing her as she felt about facing him. He stood, one of those little mannerisms of his that suggested once he knew how to be a gentleman, but she ignored it to drag one of the chairs closer to the fire.

She pulled her legs up into the chair. Sometimes, she used to bring a book with her, but not now. Now, she was quite willing to let him stew and wonder what she had in mind for him. He was astute enough to know she was still angry, which was a start, but not enough for him to apologise and release her.

And yet, she wondered about that.

He had seemed as surprised as she did when she reappeared in the halls of the castle.

For an all-powerful magical creature, he didn't seem to know quite what his magic was doing to keep her there. Maybe, it was his way of showing that he really wanted her to stay, even though he protested otherwise. Maybe it was something else and much more malicious at play.

She arranged her skirt over her legs, then curled up with her head propped on her arms, which were resting on the padded arm of the chair. It was peaceful to watch the flames, and on the edge of her awareness, she heard the creak of his stool as he sat back down, then the quiet squeaks of the spinning wheel as it began to turn again.

As much as she was annoyed with him, she mused, her eyes growing heavier, she would rather be angry and with him, than angry and without him.