His little apprentice was a troublesome thing sometimes, even after months of careful moulding Still too green to stage her little rebellion and independence from him, but old enough to know certain bothersome spells, she was more often than not a nuisance. Particularly regarding her past and the memory of that stable boy she'd been carrying around with before Cora had put a very definite stop to it. When he'd taught her how to create ice she'd worked for weeks on an ice sculpture of her 'two luv'. When he had taught her how to bottle memories and see them she'd spent three days watching recollections of their boring little trysts by the meadow.
Mirror magic had, as a result, been of great interest to her, though he did not think it wise to nurture that passion. Even so it made her progress speed up in a way that suited his interests, so he fostered her enthusiasm with a hidden wariness as he saw her create more and more intricate spells.
Then she'd begun disappearing for hours and hours, and it had been then that he'd discovered, on the West Wing of his castle, the magical mirror she'd created. Image after image of Daniel flashed through it as she stood in front of it, drinking it all in.
"Dearie, this is getting rather tiresome. Memory magic was over months ago, we've moved on."
She stepped away from the mirror, the image disappearing when she did so.
"This… this is no memory magic," she said, a sort of feverish excitement in her voice "It's a special mirror, my own creation. Took me months," she caressed the silvery frame lovingly "It allows the person to glimpse their true love, past, present and future. I don't have to just make do with my memories, now I can see all of Daniel's life, and know him like I never did before. It's almost like he isn't…"
"Dead? Gone? Dust in the wind, as some would say?" he was adamant he'd nip this nonsense in the bud "Oh, but he is, dearie. And there's no getting him back. So why live in the past when you can concentrate in the future? In avenging Daniel, instead of pining away after him?"
He'd learned to play her like a finely-tuned instrument and so he drew her away bit by bit.
"I say we move on to curses, dearie. Those will serve you well."
He caught her standing by the mirror several times after that, but he knew destroying it would only injure the trust she had in him, and that couldn't happen for a while yet. Finally, tired of the blasted looking glass, he decided to disenchant it, and have Regina believe her spells hadn't held. He uncovered the mirror, standing in front of him with both hands on the frame, trying to get a feel of the magic, when he saw it. A glimpse of red, a hint of brown, and it was gone. He blinked, focusing on the shiny surface but seeing nothing unusual. Fearing the mirror might have a spying spell on it he concentrated more, willing the magic to reveal itself.
What he saw was a faded face, like a ghost refleced in the mirror. It was a woman, full lips, piercing eyes and shiny curls. The woman glanced at him from beneath her lashes, bringing something close to her nose before smiling and fading from view. A thorough scan of the mirror, however, revealed that whatever Regina had done to it had rendered impossible to use as a spy glass. Whatever that image had been it was a product of his apprentice's spells.
He let it go, taking two days to study Regina's notes on the mirror's magic before approaching it again. He admitted that it was a fine combination of spells, designed to do as she'd described, which didn't explain what he'd seen. He was not in love, had never been, much less true love. And, had he been, the image would be clear, not some phantom-like flash.
It took ten minutes in front of the mirror to see it again. This time the woman's face was more outlined, less fuzzy, and her eyes had colour. They were blue, almost too blue, and he was positive then he'd never seen her before in his life.
"Why do you spin so much?"
Her voice caught him by surprise, making him jump backwards. The image was gone after that, but the tone of her voice, the way she'd sounded genuinely concerned and curious for him would not leave him alone. It took two hours for him to be back, and only five minutes for another image to appear. Her skin was now a pale, creamy colour and her hair was down. She was dressed in a nightgown and huddled close to a roaring fire, reading in a castle. She went away again, but a new image surfaced minutes after, this time of a much younger version of herself studying a map intently, no doubt taking lessons.
He tore himself away from the contraption, determining it was, indeed, faulty and no wonder, since Regina was still a mere apprentice. He managed to ignore the blasted mirror for three days and three nights, breaking down on the fourth, right after a bad deal and sitting in front of the looking glass again. This time she saw her in a bed with cream sheets and a burgundy duvet, wearing a sleeveless nightgown that seemed somehow not the current fashion. Her hair, dark as chocolate with hints of red, was spread all over her pillow and she propped herself up on her elbows to look directly at him.
"Come on, you silly man. It's late," she murmured, her voice husky and intimate. She smiled lazily before curling up on the mattress again "Come to bed, Rumplestiltskin."
He almost blasted the door apart in his haste to leave the room, the sound of his name coming from the woman's lips still ringing in his ears. Regina had done something wrong, she had to have, and he was going to find out what and then destroy the mirror to teach her not to be careless with her magic.
Studying the mirror, however, to discover its flaw, involved a lot of sitting in front of it and watching the woman inside. Sometimes she was very young, a child, other times she was older, a woman. The more he saw her the more solid her image became, till she was as real as Daniel had been when he'd caught Regina watching him. Over time he discovered he could manipulate what he saw simply by wishing it. He spent three nights in a row watching her read by the fire, fascinated by how riveted she seemed to the book. Two nights after that he sat still as he observed her clean his spinning wheel inside the Dark Castle, following her movements as she applied wood polish to it with tender care.
He knew she didn't exist, he'd searched, but every day he watched her she became more real to him. When he caught a glimpse of her dressed in a gold ball gown he all but fell on his knees in front of the looking glass, tracing the folds of the skirt and the gentle slope of her bared shoulders with trembling fingers. He saw her desperate, anguished, and he didn't much like it. He wanted to see her happy, the happiest she could be.
The image in the mirror shimmered, and the setting changed from a room in shambles to a darkened bedroom, one he'd seen before. His eyes found her even in the darkness, her dark hair visible against the stark whiteness of the pillowcase. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed an her lips parted, and what he could see of her shoulders and upper body was bare, her breasts hidden from his view by the torso of another figure whose face was cast in shadow. By the way she was arching her back and the noises she was making it was obvious what was happening and he turned his gaze away, unwilling to see her come apart in the arms of another man and yet not strong enough to wish the image away. She keened and moaned inside the mirror, sounding desperate in a new, tantalizing way he'd never heard before, making his skin itch and his blood boil.
Her cry of release made him whimper and tug at his hair, curling on himself so he wouldn't be tempted to see her.
"Oh, God, Rumple…!" his head snapped up so quickly it hurt, but he barely paid attention to the pain, his eyes riveted on the woman- his woman- as she tried to catch her breath, looking sated and glowing "I love you so much."
The man above her collapsed by her side, spooning her from behind, a crooked nose- one he knew all too well- nuzzling against her nape.
"I love you too, sweetheart."
It was his voice, his from when he'd been human except he'd never sounded so at peace and so content. He could see the similarities now, except for the straight hair and the very human skin. Same build, same weight and very telling scar tissue visible even in the relative darkness.
"Forever?" the woman in his doppelgänger's arms turned to look at him.
"Forever."
She caught his lips with hers, muffling his surprised laughter before the image was gone. He tried to bring it back at once, almost clawing at the mirror in his desperation, but whatever magic made it work had ran out, and needed to be recharged. He would have to wait.
Suddenly hours seemed like days, and time couldn't pass fast enough for him. He knew he was neglecting his apprentice and his deals, but he just needed one look, one more look, and he'd be satisfied. He saw her in strange fashions, skirts short enough to drive him to distraction and heels high enough to make him ache to have her legs wrapped around him. But his favourite moments where when she was with his other self, human and lame and wholly hers, and she smiled and looked at him as if he was most important person in the world.
He watched them in bed for hours, memorizing what noises she made when his doppelgänger kissed the inside of her left knee and the way she'd rake her fingernails down his back when he bit her neck, leaving angry red marks he wished he could sport too. He looked until he had committed every part of her body to memory and could almost taste her skin or feel the texture of her hair. Until he knew her better than he knew himself.
It wasn't until he caught the reflection of his own face in a common mirror that he realized what had happened. He was wearing the exact same expression his mirror-self wore around her: soft, awed, tender.
He was in love.
He spent entire hours on his lab trying to figure out how that made any sense. How could the mirror have shown him his true love and have him then fall in love with her? How could he love at all? He had been alive for over three hundred years and this had never happened before. To his knowledge no Dark One had ever fallen in love, much less true love.
He emerged from his study with a theory and a certainty: it was probable that the mirror had shown him a potential chance at true love, a woman who would one day exist and possess the ability to love him and be loved by him in return, and by getting to know her through the mirror he had actually fallen for her, sealing his fate and strengthening the hold the mirror had on him.
And he needed to destroy the mirror and forget her.
He took an enchanted hammer with him to the West Wing and stepped in front of the mirror. Immediately it showed him an image of her in her golden dress, clutching a book and looking forlorn.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he muttered, raising the hammer up with one hand, trying to pretend he couldn't feel it tremble "But I made a promise. I would love nothing else… He's my boy and I made him a promise. Goodbye."
It took one swift blow to shatter the mirror completely but he sunk to his knees and brought the hammer down on the remaining shards over and over till there was nothing left of the looking glass but shimmery dust, useless now. In a sudden bout of fury he shredded and destroyed everything at hand, cursing ogres, and fairies and disobedient little apprentices till the entire West Wing lay in shambles, uninhabitable. When the last bit of anger had left him he sat in front of his spinning wheel, downed a minuscule bottle of murky white liquid and allowed himself to forget everything.
Rumplestiltskin walked around the room in shambles, waiting. His magic made him invisible, allowing him to study the desperate souls in front of him to his heart's content. They'd sent a summons, in dire need of his help. The ogres were almost at the gates, he could smell them in the distance. And though the need he felt emanating from the tiny little castle of the tiny little village it wasn't enough to tempt him into a deal. The'd offered gold, a rather laughable incentive, and seemed to possess nothing else of value. No enchanted chalice, no mythological sword, just desperation and fear.
He was almost ready to return to the comfort of his Dark Castle when he saw her, a figure clad in gold, the ball gown clearly having seen better days. She was breathtaking, not just in the more obvious sense- though it didn't hurt that she had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen and delicious curves- but also in subtle ways. There was beauty in the determination with shone in her gaze and the pride in her stance. There was purity in there as well, a sort of kindness that wrapped around her like a cloak, making her glow in his eyes.
A worthy prize indeed. Perhaps for a lonely prince, or a widowed king wishing to make a deal. Even if such opportunity never presented itself she'd be a great addition to his collection of prized possessions, a gem to rival all others, something everyone who ever came to his castle would covet.
Yes, he decided, he'd deal for her. How lucky he was that something had made him look more closely at her. It must have been the colour of her dress, he decided as he readied himself for his entrance. It was a very fetching shade of gold.
… almost familiar, in a way.