Echoes of Darkness
Summary: "Think of me as your guide, but only until you've learned to embrace your powers." But the Dark One lies. That voice, that presence never truly leaves—no matter how you try to fight it. Rumplestiltskin knows that better than anyone: he listened to it for 300 years.
Chapter 1—"A Desperate Soul"
The scaly face in front of him changed abruptly to match that of the beggar Rumplestiltskin had tried to help just the night before, and suddenly he understood. He had been tricked. Manipulated. Lied to. He had thought he could take the Dark One's power and turn it to good, but a strange feeling was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't terror; no, it was darker, darker and cold. Fury replaced terror, or tried to; there was still enough human in him to try to fight that back. As Rumple watched in horror, however, Zoso's breath rattled in his chest. Had he really just stabbed a man, the Dark One? How could he have been such a fool? His temper had gotten the better of him, and now he had murdered someone, all for power—
"Looks like you made a deal you didn't understand," Zoso rasped, a ghoulish smile lighting up his face. "I don't think you gonna do that again."
Finding words was hard. "You told me to kill you!"
"My life was such a burden. You'll see. Magic always comes with a price. And now…it's yours to pay."
"Why me?" Why would anyone want a poor and desperate spinner to take on power like this? Magic? Magic had never brought anything good into his life. Why had he reached for it now? "Why me?"
The Dark One was struggling for air. The words were a faint whisper: "I know how to recognize a desperate soul."
"No! No! Stay! You have to tell me what to do! Tell me what to do!" He had never had power. He couldn't do this alone. How would the town coward know how to use magic? He had the dagger, but that was just used to control the Dark One, wasn't it?
Feeling sick, Rumple pulled the dagger from Zoso's body, realizing with horror that his name was now engraved in the blade. He was the Dark One. Rumplestiltskin. The Dark One. The very thought was ludicrous.
So was the fact that his hand was beginning to change color. But he barely got a chance to even register that before the world went dark, and Rumple felt something twisting, changing, and spreading within him. He felt like wet, black, darkness was seeping into his bones, racing through his system while he tried to scream that he couldn't do this. He had a son to get home to—and if he had power, why couldn't he see? Everything was blank, everything was dark, and Rumple had never been so cold in his life. Even the worst days of winter were not like this, not even when he had piled the blankets up around Bae, who had caught the Sweating Sickness and suffered for weeks and weeks. This chill sank straight into his blood, making him shiver and shake and terrified.
He felt like his body was made of oil. He was conscious, though, perfectly aware of something happening, but he couldn't feel his limbs. Not any of them. Nothing made sense, but he could feel the pressure of dark magic surrounding him, shaping him. Reforming him? He had no idea what was happening, but finally, the darkness receded.
Blinking, Rumple realized that he stood on a disk of some sort, deep in a forest he didn't recognize. He couldn't read the runes, but they looked ominous. He was lucky that he could read and write at all; his aunts had made sure he had a rudimentary education that most peasants lacked, yet he still didn't recognize the platform on which he stood. Shakily, he tested out his arms and legs, feeling his body with both hands, desperate to make sure that he was solid again. Thankfully, he was, though his skin had taken on a worryingly gray tinge. But where was he?
"The Vault of the Dark One," Zoso's voice suddenly said, and Rumplestiltskin's head jerked up from staring at own body.
A long moment passed before he could manage to speak. "Wh—what? I just, I just killed you!"
"You're going to have to stop stuttering. That's an unbecoming trait, particularly in the Dark One," was the immediate response. "Though I have to admit that most of my hosts aren't mewing desperately and asking their predecessor to stick around. That's new."
"Wh-what?"
"There you go again. Please tell me you don't stutter like this all the time. We'll go mad." Zoso sighed, stepping forward and peering down at Rumplestiltskin. The smaller man flinched back, which only made the Dark One groan. "You were brave enough when you went in to steal the dagger. Why so frightened now? I'm dead. I can't hurt you."
The dagger. Somehow, that got through the confused fog in Rumple's mind. But it wasn't in his hand. Neither was his walking staff—yet he stood normally enough. He could walk! For the first time in fourteen years, Rumple was able to stand without pain, and balancing was easy. He almost laughed out loud before he shook himself. There was a dangerous sorcerer standing in front of him impatiently, and if there was one thing any peasant learned at birth, it was not to anger your betters.
"Who are you?" he asked tentatively.
"Many things. You might say that I'm the voice in your head, or all of the Dark One's powers inside you, inside all the Dark Ones. Zoso was merely the last in a long line of Dark Ones. You are the next."
Blinking, Rumple squinted at the man—or not-man. Was he just an apparition? "Can…can anyone else see you?"
"Finally! An intelligent question." Zoso still looked annoyed, though. "And no. No one else can see me or hear me, so if they see you doing so, they'll think you mad." A smirk. "Not that many won't think you mad, regardless."
"I'm not mad," Rumple objected, his voice quiet.
"That remains to be seen. Speaking of which, stop thinking of yourself as 'Rumple'. It makes you sound like you want someone to step on you. Your full name is no better—and I shudder to think of what idiot came up with it—but at least it's more impressive than 'Trample Me Because I'm Weak'."
He could only gape, but thinking of his own weaknesses made Rumplestiltskin think of Baelfire. "My son!" he gasped, wheeling to face Zoso's sneer. "How do I get back to him?"
"A better question would be how you get back to the dagger before someone finds it and controls you."
Rumplestiltskin shivered convulsively. My life is such a burden, the real Zoso had said. But that couldn't be because of the power, could it? The power made Rumple—no, Rumplestiltskin—feel worlds better. He could walk unaided. He could stand without pain. He felt like he could run for hours and hours without being tired. The power was nice, was useful, so Zoso must have been talking about how being controlled felt. Just thinking of it made Rumplestiltskin feel sick, genuine nausea rolling around in his too-empty stomach. When was the last time I ate? But that thought was easy to push aside. He wasn't really hungry; he was more worried about the dagger.
"It can make a slave of you, you know," Zoso continued conversationally. "That's the secret that your predecessor didn't tell you. If someone holds, they hold your soul. And there's no escape."
"You—he—escaped."
"In a hurry to die, little man?"
"No!" Scowling, Rumplestiltskin stepped off of the upper disk of the Vault, eying his predecessor—or not-predecessor—warily. This isn't actually Zoso, he reminded himself. Assuming that he's telling the truth. Yet he knew, somehow, that Zoso wasn't lying. Not about this. Still, it paid to be cautious. "You…you said that you're the Dark One. Inside me. Like you were for all the others?"
"Yes." Zoso rolled his eyes, as if sick of providing this explanation. "I'm here to teach you to use your powers, how to revel in the darkness. I'll be here until you fully embrace being the Dark One."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
Zoso smiled, his grin a mouthful of rotting teeth and vicious pleasure. "It means that you're stuck with me until you do something terrible enough to make me go away."
"Ter—terrible?" he was stuttering again, and the Dark One was right. Rumple—Rumplestiltskin had to stop that. No one would respect him if he continued to act like the coward. "I don't want to do something terrible. I only want to save my son—and all the children. I want to end the war that you were too weak to stop!"
"Don't cast stones at me, Dark One. That was the Duke of the Frontlands. Now that man knew how to control one of us. He was cold and unbending, and very demanding. Though not quite as clever as his father. He let Zoso get away from him, and now he's lost the dagger." The not-Zoso gestured in mock helplessness. "But he wanted the war, so it continued, utter waste of the power though it was to intimidate little peasants into fighting."
Rumplestiltskin gaped. "Why would he want a war that kills his people?"
"Power, of course. The ability to send people to die is the ultimate form of power, after all. Even if it is only peasants."
"Only—?" He couldn't quite swallow that. Yes, life had taught Rumplestiltskin that the nobility didn't particularly care about their inferiors, but nobles died in the war, too!
"You're terribly sheltered if you don't see it." The Dark One rolled his eyes, and then folded his arms across his chest. "Fine. I'll explain it, if I must. But pay attention. I'm not here to coddle you."
"I don't need coddling—"
"Of course you do. Here's how it works. The Duke likes power, and the ogres are a problem for many kingdoms. So he uses the Dark One—that's you, now—to drive the ogres towards the Frontlands. But only if the other kingdoms and duchies around here pay up. They pay him, and he sends soldiers to fight the ogres so that no one else has to. Get it? Population control via lining the treasury. Peasants fighting wars against terrible creatures that might destroy their homes don't start revolts, either, so that's another plus. And all the troublesome minor nobles meet grisly ends, too. Doubly good!"
"That's…that's sick." His people, his neighbors, were dying to give the Duke more gold? The men he'd gone to the front lines with back as a youth, they'd died to keep difficult nobles out of power? Rumplestiltskin felt anger coursing through his veins. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. The Duke had always said that they were protecting their lands, but he was bringing the ogres to them!
"No, that's manipulation. The Duke is pretty good at it." Zoso sounded impressed.
Rumplestiltskin's anger made him bold. "I can stop it." I can save all the children.
"Now you're talking. But first you need the dagger. If you don't have it, the Duke can control you and make you keep the war going." Another sneer. "I'm not sure I'd regret seeing that. You might be more interesting when you're raging impotently. Right now, you're worthless and boring."
"I am not worthless!"
"Say that like you mean it, and maybe I'll believe you someday."
Blinking, Rumplestiltskin glared at his not-predecessor, anger surging within him again. He had power, now. He didn't have to be helpless. He could do things now, could do fix all the things he'd wanted to fix. He could give Bae the life he'd always wanted to—
Bae.
How had he forgotten about his son? How could he have failed to remember that dawn was approaching, and the soldiers would be coming to take his boy away? Rumplestiltskin had taken this power on to save Bae, and he would do that. He would save all the children, no matter what this monster in his head said. He could be different from Zoso. For all he knew, this wasn't the 'Dark One'; this could just be Zoso coming to haunt him. Rumplestiltskin didn't have to listen to him. He didn't needto do something terrible or embrace the darkness. He could just use the power for good.
But first he had to get the dagger, because otherwise someone could force him to be evil. Nodding firmly to himself, Rumplestiltskin started walking, reveling in the fact that he could walk normally for the first time in years. It felt so good; he felt so strong! He felt like he could do anything, go anywhere—except for the fact that he had no idea where he was.
"Figured that out, did you?" Zoso's voice taunted him from behind, until suddenly the apparition was standing in front of Rumple. He jumped.
"I…um…where am I?" He hated the fact that he sounded so pitiful, and added quickly: "Other than at the Vault of the Dark One. You said that already."
"Far away from where you were. Far from the dagger. Far from your precious boy."
"How far?" He could move pretty quickly, now, Rumplestiltskin figured. He could get there. Dawn hadn't broken just yet, and they didn't ever come for the children until midday. Except for the fact that Hordor hates me. He might come for Bae early. That thought sent a shiver down his spine, yet for the first time, he felt the fear accompanied by white-hot anger. I will kill him if he tries.
"Ah, there it is," Zoso purred, stepping close until he was mere inches away from Rumplestiltskin. "There's the fury. I like it. It changes you."
"How far?" Rumplestiltskin snarled. He wouldn't be cowed by this thing; it wasn't even real. And Bae was all alone.
"Weeks." There was the smirk again. "You hear the whispering?"
"The what?" The irrelevant question made him frown. "I don't care who's watching, and I don't care if they think me mad. I have to get back to my son!"
"Then focus on the whispering and take yourself to it." Dark eyes met his. "That's the dagger, calling to you. Waiting for you. Take yourself to it."
Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes, looking for the trick. If the dagger was where he'd left it, it was just up the hill from his hovel, from Bae. He could get the dagger and then protect Bae. Then they'd both be free, and no one would ever be able to threaten his son again. Then I can stop the war. I can bring the children home. The thought of being a hero, of saving all the children, was so sweet that Rumplestiltskin never saw Zoso licking his lips in anticipation.
"How do I do that?" he asked.
"Just think of the hill where you killed Zoso. Think of it, and—"
But Rumplestiltskin had already focused, and he felt a sudden tug that almost swept him off his feet. When his vision cleared, he stood over Zoso's body again, looking down at where the blood-stained dagger sat primly in the grass. Quickly, Rumplestiltskin bent and picked it up. The grip felt warm in his hand, now, no longer cold and foreboding like it had when he'd pulled the dagger off the castle's wall. Now the dagger was his, and Rumplestiltskin was powerful. But how had he gotten here?
"Well done. You just teleported yourself. Now you're starting to use your magic."
Startled, he whirled to face the other Zoso, the one not stiff and cold on the ground. "You're—you're still here."
"Of course I am. Your listening skills need some work. I'll be here until the end, little man. Either you embrace the darkness, you become as dark as any Dark One has ever been, or you'll have me buzzing in your ear until someone kills you and becomes the Dark One. Then we'll all encourage that Dark One instead." Rotted teeth flashed another dark smile. "You're stuck with me."
"I'm not going to be like you," Rumplestiltskin whispered. "I'm going to save the children."
Zoso threw back his head and laughed. "Good idea. Start with your son. Your friend the soldier is there, now."
Rumplestiltskin didn't need coaching this time. He just focused on his home and vanished.
Author's Note: Next up, Chapter 2—"A Frightened Boy," in which Rumplestiltskin heads home to rescue Baelfire, his not-Zoso in tow.
I will be taking prompts for this 'verse, mainly for 1) the time period between the end of the Ogre War and Bae going through the portal and 2) the time period between the portal and Rumplestiltskin meeting Belle. Check out my tumblr (the link is in my profile) for sneak peeks and more!