Burn the Embers

Warning: This story does contain torture in its first part and copious amounts of Rumbelle to follow it :)

Part One.

He'd let his guard down. That's what happened when he didn't see them lurking in the shadows for a collection of decades. He didn't forget, necessarily, but he didn't watch nearly as carefully either. Anyway, in more recent years he'd had plenty to watch for without worrying about a handful of pests. Cora had made herself a dangerous enough foe when she chose to play the part, and even though she was now stuck in that batty excuse for a world called Wonderland, her daughter was filling her role rather nicely. It was a delicate balance to keep Regina on track to casting the Dark Curse and make sure that she didn't blow everything to hell long before the time came. Her rage towards her precious little step-daughter was a sight to behold, and had been more than he could have ever even hoped for. If he could just contain her for a time everything would work out as planned for the casting of the curse and their trip to the Land Without Magic.

Rumplestiltskin had been so close to finding his son that he'd forgotten to look over his shoulder and it had cost him. Dearly.

A struggling moan escaped the Dark One as he began to resurface towards consciousness. He'd been out to make a deal with a some peasant that had called his name so desperately that he might have gone hoarse from it all, but when Rumplestiltskin showed the man hadn't been alone. He'd made a deal, alright, just not with the one that he'd called, and vision had come too late. They always did with this lot. He still couldn't be certain quite how they did that.

He shifted, finding his wrists bound down at his sides to what he thought might have been a table. It was a flat, hard surface, that much he could tell, but when he reached for his magic to search further he found it sluggish to come to his call. They'd done this to him once before and it had to do with some sort of light magic he had a hell of a time unravelling. His curse hated it, feeling it burn at him even as it settled over him like a wet blanket, suffocating his own darkness and keeping his magic within. It was there and he could feel it, but it wouldn't come to the surface. Not yet.

Scaly fingers twitched, trying to catch ahold of the bindings, but they couldn't quite reach. He lifted his head the best he could and strained to see, finding that the cuffs were made of metal that needed a key to turn them loose - or magic, his curse reminded him as if that were helpful at all - and that his ankles were bound in the same way at the other end of the table. He grunted as he started to pull, feeling a tad claustrophobic in the otherwise open room and he pulled and yanked hard against the cuffs that were securely bolted to the table below him. His curse provided him with more strength than a simple spinner could have ever imagined, but it did nothing against this now.

"You won't break them," a voice that he had known nearly as long as he'd been the Dark One said from outside of his line of sight. "Nor will you be able to reach your magic to work its way through the locks. You're trapped."

"Am I now?" Rumplestiltskin asked, trying to keep his voice steady and force the fear that was clawing its way through him out of it. He was not the cowering spinner any longer. He was one of the most powerful dark sorcerers in the Enchanted Forest and beyond. People from worlds far beyond his own knew his name and told stories about things he had done. He was not afraid of this man, not even bound and exposed as he was. "And tell me, Magnus," he continued, calling the man's name and a different kind of power resignated through that knowledge, "what are you going to do with me? I thought you learned last time that trying to control me was beyond even your reach without the Kris Dagger."

"I have no interest in controlling you, Dark One," Magnus said, and from the way his voice was moving he was walking through the room. Rumplestiltskin hadn't heard him come in, nor could he hear the ancient cleric's silent footsteps now, but his voice bounced off the walls enough to tell him that they weren't in a large room. The lights were dim, possibly only one or two small torches on the far wall behind him - perhaps at the entrance way? - and he had to rely on his curse-enhanced vision to see the stone walls around him. He hadn't bothered to try to get a look at his captor yet. No need to look like he was as anxious as he felt. "I have an interest in ending you once and for all."

Magnus' voice had shifted so suddenly that Rumplestiltskin had to forcibly keep himself from jumping at the sudden sound next to him. He looked up, finding a somewhat familiar face. This man had chased him down for nearly three centuries, but the last time they'd met had obviously left a mark on him. His eyes, once icy blue and fierce, were milky white now and surrounded by terrible scarring. The spell had been flung at him with such hate to fuel it that Rumplestiltskin wouldn't have been surprised that it had left a mark, though blinding the cleric left him at least a little more satisfied than his current situation might have otherwise allowed. "Well look at you. No wonder I haven't seen you in some time. Licking your wounds?"

The elder man smiled, though it was hardly a pleasant expression. Unlike Rumplestiltskin - who was much younger, though he couldn't quite remember if he were just nearing or had already passed his third century of life - his teeth weren't rotted with decay and while a bit of age clung to him, making him look something of an elder to his people, the lines of his face were harsh and determined, just as Magnus was. He had but one goal in his many, many centuries of existence: to end the Dark One. Rumplestiltskin just happened to be the curse's oh-so lucky host.

Magnus bent down, sending a chill sweeping through the trapped man that he could quite crush down. "I've spent my time preparing for this very moment."

"You've spent a millenia trying to destroy my curse. What could you have possibly uncovered to make you think you've found just the thing?"

The smile broadened and Magnus reached a hand to take hold of Rumplestiltskin's chin, fingers wrapping around his jaw and squeezing. He might not be able to physically see him, but there was no doubt that the cleric could see through his magic that had proven itself time and again to be immensely powerful. "The missing key to what I began all those years ago," he answered unhelpfully and let go.

Rumplestiltskin didn't like the ache that lingered in his jaw, even after the grip had loosened and he didn't like how Magnus moved behind him again and out of his line of sight. His magic was bound and useless, but even so the madman couldn't expect to actually snuff his life out, could he? If he truly thought so, this could quickly descend into a very unpleasant experience. "So where are your lackies?" the Dark One managed, trying to gage his position again.

"This is between you and I today, Rumplestiltskin."

Another involuntary shudder shook him. It was rare for the cleric to use his name like that. He understood the power behind names just the same as Rumplestiltskin himself did. "When I get out of here, I'll do more than take your sight this time. Don't underestimate me."

"You're afraid," Mangus mused, circling back around and reptilian gold eyes saw the bare light glint off something sharp in his hand. "Good."

For one terrifying moment Rumplestiltskin thought that he recognized the knife in Magnus' hand, but as he drew closer he saw sharp, straight edges with mostly smooth sides. It was the handle to which the attention had been paid. Threads wove in and around each other, the exact colours lost to the shadows, but they worked their way in and around and between each other as if joining in a dance. Magic was woven in there, and the gem at the top of the hilt was the same pale blue that Magnus' eyes had once been.

"You can't kill me with that, you know." He did not sound nervous. He was the Dark One. He was not afraid.

"I am aware that I can't kill you with this," Magnus answered evenly and a wave of his free hand stole Rumplestiltskin's fine silk shirt and dragon skin vest away to leave his bare back pressed against the cool table and the panic welling from even deeper. He struggled to control it, but he had nothing. He couldn't reach his magic and he couldn't move away. The magic that stirred around them - Magnus' magic, of course - caused him to shudder and he pulled in what he hoped was a steadying breath, leveling a dark glare in the cleric's direction. He could handle pain, and as he had just admitted, that dagger was not powerful enough to end his life. He needed to stop allowing this man to distract him. If he could search out the thread in the spell that dampened his magic he could unravel it and free himself. That was the goal and one that he'd focus on readily.

That focus was jerked away as the sharp tip of the knife pressed down against his bare skin just below his sternum, splitting only the top layers. It took an enchanted blade or someone that possessed an incredible will and strength to be able to cut him and Magnus had both. Rumplestiltskin's teeth grit as the cleric showed himself in now hurry to cut just a little deeper and he could feel warm blood bubbling from the shallow wound. The pain was inconsequential so far, but it was irksome. "You planning on seeing which of us dies of old age then, dearie? I assure you that you'll go first." He wasn't entirely certain what deal the old man had made to keep his life going so long, but magic like that always came tainted in darkness.

Magnus pressed down, the blade dipping lower and pain came with it, but that was only because he was biding his time. Magnus would cause more pain if Rumplestiltskin remained bound as his prisoner, and his curse was raging in his mind with all the many ways that he should destroy this insolent cleric. I will, its host swore. This time I will.

"No, I shouldn't think it will take quite that long."

"Then get on with it, won't you?"

A low, throaty chuckle left the elder man. "So eager to die?"

"I'm ready to be free of your damn table and absurd prattling," the Dark One snapped and he tried to twist away from the knife. His wrist and ankles were bound, but he could move a little at least. It wasn't dug in deep yet and, while he had nowhere to go after he got free of it, he wanted to at least make it difficult.

"Be still," Magnus commanded and Rumplestiltskin squirmed hard in protest. One large hand grabbed the side of his face, thumb pressing harder against his jawline than the knife had against his skin and the rest of his fingers curled around behind his neck, gripping hard. "You are the most human of any Dark One that has ever lived, and that is your weakness."

Rumplestiltskin couldn't choke back the cry as Magnus dug the knife deep. His body jerked and his back arched against the pain. Breathing became difficult and his curse was howling, though it took him a moment to realize that it was against more than just the physical pain of the wound. The knife that Magnus was using was powerful and he could feel it pulling at him from inside, reaching and grabbing and taking. A terrible sound bounced off the stone walls, and as it wasn't the cleric that made it, Rumplestiltskin could only assume it had come from him.

"Do you know how your curse was formed?" the elder man asked almost conversationally. "It was a mistake. One that went terribly wrong and it has haunted me all the days of my life since. I thought-" he twisted the knife and Rumplestiltskin screamed - "I had everything in place. I was going to rid the world of dark magic. I was going to protect my people. Instead, I overlooked the most vital piece of the puzzle and instead created the Dark One's Curse." He let go of the dagger, leaving it buried where he'd put it. Rumplestiltskin could feel something reaching out from it, taking hold, and he tasted blood as he coughed. "I've found that piece now, and I'll use it to end your curse. You'll go with it, but I would been lying to say that will weigh on my soul."

"What have you done?" he managed, the question halted and pained.

"I haven't done it yet," Mangus answered, his sightless gaze unnerving as it came to rest on him. "Though I've gained what I need to put the final piece into play. Your blood fused with your magic." He took hold of the hilt without warning and tore the blade from Rumplestiltskin, pulling another terrible cry from him that left him gasping. His throat ached, but that was the least of his worries now. His magic had been desperate to try to close the wound as soon as it had been made, even though it was so terrible limited right now, and that had left him vulnerable.

Gold eyes flickered up, finding the knife held firmly in the cleric's hand, and it was indeed covered with his blood. He'd thought the blade was smooth before, but now that it was coated he could see the etchings of old runes carved into the steel, soaking it up and the gem was darkening even as he watched.

Magnus stepped closer and Rumplestiltskin resisted the urge to try to squirm away again. Even breathing was sending sharp pain lacing through his core and more blood than should have been healthy for a mortal man to lose was pouring out of him. With his free hand, the cleric reached forward, pressing his palm against the gaping wound and the Dark One stiffened. "You have what you need," he managed through clenched teeth and thoroughly unable to fight back. If he could get him to go, if he could manage some time to think, he might find a way out of this. He had to. He was so close. He couldn't fail Bae again.

"And this is what I want," his captor chuckled, fingers curling into the wound so that Rumplestiltskin's gasped sounded as if someone were dragging the air from him. "You still don't understand, even after all these years. There is no length I will not go, no deed I will not undertake to undo you. You are just one of many, an ember that stokes the flame of a greater darkness that I will snuff out. It ends with you." He tightened his grip again until the younger man's vision began to dull, shadows flittering across it and the pain became further and further away. He fought until he couldn't fight it any longer, Bae's name on his lips as he passed out.

He didn't know how long he was out for, but when he started to come to, all he could feel was the pain. His curse was raging, demanding that he break free and do something, yet not giving him the means by which to do so. He tried to shift a little and found only pain in doing so.

Rumplestiltskin was alone as best as he could tell. The only sounds that greeted him were the soft crackling of the torches by the entrance and his own ragged breathing. He strained, listening for signs of guards keeping watch, and when he was fairly certain that there weren't any he closed his eyes. He wouldn't let himself slip into unconsciousness this time, but focused everything he had in the spell that still contained his magic. The threads were strong and tightly woven. Great care was put into this spell's fashioning, and even on a good day it would take a bit to unravel. He set to work.

"You almost had me fooled, Dark One," Magnus' voice filtered in some time later. As best as he could tell he had worked his way through five layers of the spell so far, finding one layer that had been hidden. He was lucky he's seen it in time, because triggering that hidden snag would have set him back to the beginning.

Magnus leaned in when Rumplestiltskin refused to respond, his breath hot on the younger man's face. "I thought you hadn't come around yet. There are a few times that I'm pleased to be wrong."

Rumplestiltskin's eyes flew open as his captor pressed down on the wound that he'd been purposefully ignoring. Pain shot through him and his back arched off the table, the rest of him kept still by the cuffs locking his wrists and ankles down. His vision pulsed, whiting out as Magnus dug the palm of his hand down against the wound and he choked on his own scream. He could taste blood and he was starting to wonder just how well his old enemy had thought this through. Perhaps he really had gotten one step ahead of him.

No, he reminded himself desperately. He needed to survive this. Dying here would leave Bae alone in the Land Without Magic. He needed to find his son and tell him what a fool he'd been to let him go. He had to wrap his arms around him and beg his forgiveness. He would give up everything for that one moment. He would pay any price, but he'd be damned if he died before then.

Magic lashed out, driven by that desperation, and while Magnus' spell quickly caught hold of it he saw the old cleric flinch back just a little as the darkness of his curse sliced into him and left a long mark across his cheek. "You are a foolish one and always have been. Give in and I will make this quick."

"No," Rumplestiltskin growled and reached for his magic again, burning through the holding spell with sheer determination. He usually preferred a less direct approach, but he was quickly running out of option.

Magnus snorted, but this time when pressed his hand flat against the wound it began to glow. Light magic gathered around it and the Dark One saw the dagger he'd used on him before clutched in the opposite hand. The gem, first blue, then dark, was now bright and Rumplestiltskin realized too late what the cleric was trying to do.

He had asked his captive before if he knew how the Dark One's Curse was formed, and he had. Rumplestiltskin was no fool, despite the protest to counter that, and he had studied his own curse in great detail at the first possible moment and at each moment that presented itself after. He had scoured the lands for information and had found bits and pieces that were actually relative, including a sect of clerics from nearly a millennia before that had sought to do away with all dark magic by containing it in a vault. They were all dead by the time Rumplestiltskin took the curse, of course. Well, all except one.

The missing piece that Magnus had referred to must have been the spell woven into the hilt of the dagger. He'd needed Rumplestiltskin's blood mixed with his magic to bind it to him, but now the determined old cleric was forcing the spell that should have once been used to do away with the darkest magics in the world on one man. He drew it from the knife, using himself to direct it straight into Rumplestiltskin.

Pure light magic ripped through him and he'd never known pain like it before. He screamed, convulsing as wildly as his restraints would allow. If he were anything less, his wrists and ankles would have been broken by the movements against the unforgiving cuffs, but at least his curse did that much. It held him mostly together, but it wouldn't for long.

"This is what I've been waiting for. The day the ember burns out," Magnus growled in his ear. "This is your end after so many, many years."

As old as he was - Magnus was at least three times older - there were many times that Rumplestiltskin was certain that he didn't see any difference from one Dark One to the next. It was almost as if they were the same person with different faces that hardly mattered, but he was different than Zoso, and he thought that he was likely very different than the ones before him as well. He had something beyond himself to live for. He had a purpose.

Another shriek ripped through him as he felt the light magic tearing and pushing through the wound in his middle. The world around him had been swallowed by the pain and he was swimming against the current that threatened to overtake him. If let it, if he gave for even an instant, it would destroy him. His curse knew that too and was just as desperate as its host to find a way to break free.

A low, throaty chuckle sounded somewhere just beyond the mind-numbing pain and he thought Magnus might have been enjoying himself a bit too much. He was just distracted enough by his twisted pleasure that he didn't notice that the former spinner had found exactly what he had been looking for. It took everything he had, but Rumplestiltskin reached, grasping hold of the loose thread to the magic and pulled it with all the desperation, not of a demon trying to survive, but of a father still looking for his son. If he'd been fighting for anything less, it might not have come loose, but it began to unravel, and though the magic still pulsed through him, gold eyes met milky white ones and Magnus knew his mistake as Rumplestiltskin's cuffs snapped open and he disappeared, teleporting away.

He hit hard, slamming to the rug-covered marble floor of the Dark Castle's great hall. He curled in on himself and shook uncontrollably. He was home, but that certainly wasn't enough. He had used up more energy than he should have been able to reach out for in his present condition just to get away, and now he was left helpless and trembling in his own home. Unless he was able to counter the poisonous magic racing through his system it would kill him, he had no doubt about that.

A soft moan escaped him as he tried to get his arms under him to push himself up off the floor. Rumplestiltskin didn't make it very far as his muscles gave out, landing him face first back to the ornate carpet. He couldn't move and the spell continued to shred him from the inside out. Everything was on fire, the white-hot spell coursing through his veins and he coughed, tasting blood.

"Rumplestiltskin?"

He couldn't breathe and could barely think. He'd heard his name, but who would be calling him in his own castle? His mind was muddled and he couldn't think who would be there. He was alone. Always alone.

The doors opened with a scraping sound against the floor and a startled gasp filled the rather large room. "Rumplestiltskin!"

Hands were on him in an instant, brushing back damp hair and one came to the side of his face. He jerked away as best as he could, but the touch was much softer than the grip Magnus had had on him. She - the owner of the hands and the voice, he assumed - loosed a list of questions he really hoped she didn't expect him to answer. He couldn't even bring himself to open his eyes now and that voice was fading. Who was she anyway, this woman that sounded so desperate to keep him awake? He managed to crack one golden eye open and he saw the face of his little maid.

"Belle?" The name left his bloody lips on an exhaled breath and it wouldn't have made it into the open any other way. Even that sent a flood of pain through him he curled a little more into himself.

"You're bleeding," she managed, her voice sounding as if she were confused by the notion. "Why isn't your magic stopping it?"

Oh. She expected an answer, didn't she? "Can't."

Her hands were small and likely trying to be gentle with the way that she touched him, but she was attempting to shift him onto his back now and he let out what sounded in his mind like a howl of pain. In reality it was more of a whimper, soft and breathless. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and her hand came to brush his hair back and out of his face again. Somehow she'd managed to get him where she wanted him and the feel of the rug on his skin reminded him just how exposed he was. His bare back pressed against it as the little bookworm of a maid tried to look brave as she studied the terrible wound. She pulled in a sharp breath and determination filled those clear blue eyes as she reached around to untie her apron, and before Rumplestiltskin knew it she was pressing it against the knife wound. "I'm sorry," she said again as he trembled. "I'm so sorry. I have to stop the bleeding. It just won't stop."

"Poison," he choked and managed to turn his head to the side as blood rose in his throat. Well, pure light magic in a form that likely had never been intended to be thrust into a being, human or otherwise. Most practitioners of light magic were very strict with its use and torturing someone to death - even the Dark One himself - was beyond what they were willing to do. Not Magnus, though. He didn't care a damn for all he swore he stood for. Nothing got in the way of his goals, and Rumplestiltskin feared that perhaps he'd reached them this time. He looked up, finding blue eyes staring down at him and he worked up the strength to tell her the truth. "Dying."

"You're not going to die," Belle said sternly, as if she were giving him an order. He snorted softly, despite everything, finding it amusing in his ocean of misery that this little girl, this child thought she could give him an order, even if it was to stay alive. She glared, not as amused as he was. "You're not. I'm going to save you. Here." Her fingers closed around his own limp wrist at his side and pressed his palm of his hand down against her now bloodsoaked apron. "Don't move it. Can you tell me anything in your work tower that can help?"

Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard. She wanted to help him, but he couldn't for the life of him understand why. She should have grabbed his chair, sat back, and watched the show of an immortal man bleeding out on his own floor of his gaudy castle that did nothing to fill the void left by those he'd lost. This was her ticket to freedom, yet she wanted to help save him. "Why?" he croaked finally.

"Because if I don't do something you really will die!" she snapped. "Now tell me or I'll go rifle through your potions until I find something that looks remotely useful."

He blinked up at her. "No," he managed. He couldn't have her doing that. What he needed was specific, and she'd never find it if she weren't specifically looking for it. That's how the charm on it worked. Two items were required to pull him back from the brink that he currently teetered on, and while one was accessible in his tower, the other was locked away in the doorless, windowless vault that he kept. She had no way in or out other than if he chose to send her, and even if he did he couldn't risk her taking hold of the item he needed. His aversion to sending her there had everything to do with that and absolutely nothing to do with the fact that if he passed out - or worse - while she was there she would be stuck until she died. No, it had nothing to do with that at all.

"Rumplestiltskin?" Belle called, her voice pitched up with fear and he blinked, realizing that he'd been slipping away again.

"I'm here. I need… two things. I'll get one."

"You can't move."

"Don't have to."

She nodded, her dark auburn hair falling from the loose braid she wore it in today. Perhaps she'd actually been doing her job for once instead of tucking herself away in that library that he'd given to her. "What do you need me to go get?"

He pulled as deep of a breath in as he dared without sending himself into a coughing fit. "Look for the small vial at the furthest cupboard from the window. Darkest corner of the room." He paused, focused entirely on breathing and not passing out for the moments that ticked by. When he was fairly certain he had bested it - at least for the moment - he continued his halted instructions. "It… won't be marked. No liquid, only swirling mist. Very dark, like a storm."

"Okay," she said and caught his eyes. "Don't let up pressure here."

He thought she might have squeezed the hand she'd put over the apron, but he couldn't be sure. It had gone numb and the rest of him was quickly following. He had to focus though, because while the Kris Dagger would come to his call, he didn't dare risk it being intercepted or all of this being a trap laid out by Magnus to waltz in and take it from him as it lay loosely in his numbed grasp. No matter the risk, though, he needed it. Rumplestiltskin called and the dagger came, fitting into his grasp like it was made for it. He tried to find something to focus on, but there was nothing, only the retreating footsteps of a maid that likely wouldn't make it back in time, and as even that faded all he could think of was how he'd somehow managed to fail Bae all over again. The ceiling blurred into shapeless colours before the shadows finally swallowed those too and Rumplestiltskin's grip on consciousness finally slipped.

TBC

Notes: So, I'm still reeling from Sunday's Winter finale. Still a little weepy over it as well.

Just to be clear for any readers that were along for Where Nightmares and Darkness Meet, while this is the same Magnus, it is a different AU. This two-shot will be connected to my next full-length called Burn the Worlds :)