Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Summary: Baelfire is determined to free his father from the Dark One's curse he took on a year ago in order to rid the Frontlands of the ogres and save his only son. It's a bit trickier than he'd thought and it desperate to find answers. After all, who would believe that True Love's Kiss would be powerful enough to break a curse?

Tags: *Rumpelstiltskin, *Belle, *Baelfire, *Morraine, *Jefferson, *Maurice, *Gaston, *Enchanted Forest, *Dark Castle, *Smut, *Fluff, *AU-Canon Divergence *Snark *Family *Comfort *He's the fucking Dark One so don't freak out when he acts like it.

A/n: This one's a bit different as it's more family themed (smth I haven't really done before). Yes, it's a repost, but fun, nonetheless. Hope you all enjoy it, my darlings and thanks in advance for reading!

The Wonder of Her Love

By:

Charlotte Ashmore

I

Origins

Rumpelstiltskin sauntered through the Great Hall of the massive fortress with a bounce in his step as he surveyed his new holdings. "I think this should do nicely for us, don't you, son?"

Baelfire rolled his eyes and swiped a finger across the long dining table, leaving a trail in the thick layer of dust which coated the surface of the wood. "Who'd you kill to obtain such a prize? A duke, an earl?" he asked caustically as he eyed the man who'd once been his whole world.

So much had changed in the year since his father had taken on the curse of the Dark One to save him from the ogre's war. To save everyone. The Duke of the Frontlands had conscripted most of the able-bodied men in their village and those scattered about his vast holdings, but it hadn't been enough. His meager forces hadn't been able hold back the horde which seemed to march ever closer. Soon they would reach their village and there would be no escape for the spinner and his twelve-year-old son. He'd been desperate. There was no money to flee, nowhere they could go, and death was knocking at their door … if not from the ogres, then from the famine which seemed to plague their lands. And in that desperation, he'd taken the advice of an old beggar and gone on a quest for a mythical dagger which would help him summon the Dark One.

Too bad he hadn't read the fine print on that deal. The Dark One had goaded Rumpelstiltskin to anger and in that furious rage, the spinner had succumbed to it and killed the demon. He hadn't known he'd have to take on the curse himself. He'd quickly been able to dispatch the ogres, saving them all, but the land had been too ravaged, easily susceptible to disease and famine. He'd wanted to help, but there was another aspect to his curse he would come to learn. All magic comes with a price. The magic demanded its payment and nothing in this world was free.

It wasn't just the green-gray skin with its flecks of gold or the wiry mess his hair had become. It wasn't his penchant for flamboyant gestures and fine clothing. Nor was it his obsession with magic. No, what worried him the most was Rumpelstiltskin's cruelty and the darkness which took more of his soul with each passing day. This monster wasn't his father. His father had been good and kind, despite being branded a coward. The open disgust his father had been plagued with in their village hadn't mattered to Baelfire. He knew who his father truly was. But this curse … he emitted a sigh filled with the sadness weighing upon him … this curse was slowly killing the gentle spinner Rumpelstiltskin had once been.

Baelfire's question hadn't been without cause, either. The imp had a strong aversion to nobles, and he cringed at the thought of how his father might have come by the deserted fortress. Morraine poked him in the ribs, casting him a look of disapproval. She adored Rumpelstiltskin and always bristled with outrage when Baelfire spoke to him in such a way. When their village had been decimated by famine and disease, her parents had been some of the first to succumb. If it weren't for her friendship with him, she would have perished as well. Instead - wanting only his son's happiness - Rumpelstiltskin had taken her into their home and made her a part of their family, promising to keep her just as safe and protected as he would Bae.

Now the Dark One had found a new home for them, no longer wanting or needing the village who'd shunned him. It wasn't safe for them there any longer. He wanted a fresh start for them, somewhere the children could make friends and live a normal life without the stigma of his cowardice holding them back. His curse was another matter, but he was determined to try to make things better. He'd promised.

"I didn't kill anyone, Bae," Rumpelstiltskin sighed in exasperation. "The old lord died penniless and his son was looking to sell. He didn't want to live an impoverished life within the confines of a crumbling castle. He traded it for enough gold to seek adventure abroad." He rested his hand upon his son's shoulder and tilted his chin up to meet his gaze, warm brown eyes so like his own had been long ago stared back at him. "I promised you … no more killing."

"A promise you've broken at least once," the boy said accusingly. "I know you're trying, Papa, but the darkness won't let you succeed. Don't you see that?"

Rumpelstiltskin straightened, his eyes gleaming with anger. "That man stole my children to force me into a deal I had no wish to make. I will not let anyone harm you or Morraine and the people of this realm need to know that."

Baelfire wrapped his arms around the sorcerer's middle and buried his face against his chest. "I won't give up, Papa. I will find a way to break your curse."

Morraine edged her way into her surrogate father's embrace and nodded fervently. "We both will."

The Dark One retreated to the farthest corners of the spinner's mind, uncomfortable with the show of love from the children, leaving the father to accept their affection. "It's been a year since we made that deal, Bae. I'm afraid there is no way to break my curse unless I pass it to another through death. It's hopeless."

"Don't say that, Papa," Morraine whispered, her tears soaking the front of his waistcoat. "We'll find a way."

He held them both, enveloped in his arms and dropped a kiss to each of their crowns before releasing them. "Alright, none of us will give up on finding a way to break my curse, but in the meantime … what do you think of our new home? Will it suffice?"

Baelfire cast a long-suffering look about the cavernous room and fought to keep a grimace off his young face. "Well, it's kinda big, Papa. What do we need with so much space?" He didn't want to disappoint his father, unable to miss the hopeful gleam in Rumpelstiltskin's eyes.

"Admittedly, it is larger than what we need, but we can grow into it," he offered lamely, flourishing his elegant hand in a dismissive gesture. "And I could enchant it to keep it clean and rid it of all this dust." He wrinkled his nose as he noticed the heavy coating of dust and grime.

Morraine nudged Baelfire with her elbow and arched a brow. "I think it's splendid. We can spend days just exploring. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"We'll make it a home, Bae. You'll see, son."

Baelfire took in the hopeful expressions on their faces and caved. "I suppose it's just as good as any place we could find. As long as we're together."

*.*.*

"Bae, this is a really bad idea," Rumpelstiltskin grimaced, casting a furtive glance down at himself. "Not to mention I'm getting frostbite on my pinky toes."

"Papa, could you at least try to be serious just this once?" Baelfire asked as he once again consulted the tome by the light of the torch.

The sorcerer groaned, but fell silent, letting his children do as they wished in their quest to find a way to break the curse of the Dark One. In the three months since they'd moved into the Dark Castle, Morraine and Baelfire had spent nearly every waking moment in the vast library after they'd discovered it, pouring over one tome after another as they researched stories on previous Dark Ones. And once a month, they put their findings into a practical use.

He'd made certain to remove any books on magic from the library which would cause his children undue harm, but apparently folklore was fair game. Now as he stood out in the snow wearing only a pair of his leather pants and shivering uncontrollably, he was beginning to question his decision. Their first attempt had involved him standing on his head while they chanted some ridiculous spell - or what they thought was a spell - while he counted backwards from a thousand. The second one had been so embarrassing he prayed no one would ever find out about it. It would completely ruin his reputation as the most powerful being in the realm.

Chickens and the Dark One were not a good combination. Neither was the scented oil they'd dumped over his head. He never thought he'd get it out of his hair and having to conduct his business dealings smelling of lilacs didn't sit well with him when his desperate souls kept trying to sniff him.

Baelfire pierced the frozen ground with a torch stake at the four corners, each representing a different element and then lit them one by one. Rumpelstiltskin stared at the small container of some unknown substance in Morraine's hand as she stirred it with a small brush. "Um, dearie, what's that?" he asked, his voice heavy with suspicion.

"Pig's blood."

His brows disappeared into his hairline. "I beg your pardon?!"

"Don't worry, Papa, it won't hurt you," she said cheerily as she approached him. "Just hold still. Bae come hold the book so I can paint the runes on his skin."

Baelfire snickered. "Wow, Papa, you look just like Mr. Garrett did when we visited him to get the blood," he said, referring to the butcher in the village.

The sorcerer gaped at his children, but held still - or as still as he possibly could when his body was wracked with chills - and let them paint runes onto his scaly skin. "Is this really necessary?"

"I think so." Baelfire consulted the book once more, scratching his head beneath the hood of his cloak. At least the children were warm, Rumpelstiltskin mused wryly. "It says we have to have a full moon, torches to represent the elements, pig's blood and … um …"

"Let me see that," the imp snapped, reaching for the book. His eyes widened as he glimpsed the title page. A Witch's Guide to the Impossible. He read the table of contents and rolled his eyes. "How to Remove that Tricky Wart, What to do When Your Newt's Eyes Curdle, How to Rid Yourself of an Unforgivable Curse … Bae! Seriously, son?" He snapped the book closed and stepped out of the salt ring they'd formed around him, reaching for his discarded cloak.

"But, Papa, you promised to let us help!" the boy wailed, following after his father as he set off for the castle. "You can't go back on your word!"

Rumpelstiltskin ushered his children into the Great Hall and waited as they settled themselves on the hearth rug. He sat down in his chair before the crackling fire and summoned a tea tray, hoping the aromatic brew would restore warmth to his frozen limbs. "I am not going back on my word. I promised to let you help, but this is ridiculous. You cannot expect these fantastic tales to bear fruit."

"You took our other books away, though," Morraine pouted as she poured herself a cup of tea. "This is all we've been able to find and it's worth a shot, at least."

"Listen to me, both of you," he said gently, setting his cup on the tray and taking their hands in his. His warm amber eyes settled on them and he felt his heart flutter with love. "I have more control now over the Dark One. I will not let the darkness consume me completely. There may not even be a cure for a curse as powerful as this, but we are not going to give up. We just need to look in a new direction and depend on a more reliable source."

Baelfire stared down into his cup, his reflection, in the still surface of the beverage, troubled. "As you wish, Papa. We won't give up."

The imp stretched out his legs, extending his bare feet towards the fire in an effort to warm them as he settled more comfortably in his chair. "Alright, you two, off with you. As soon as I defrost, I'll see about preparing dinner. In the meantime, you can trot yourselves outside and clean up the mess from the front courtyard."

"Yes, Papa," they intoned in unison, sounding like two precious magpies as they set out to obey their father.

*.*.*

Baelfire wrung his hands and ran his fingers through his hair as he paced outside of Morraine's bedchamber. He could hear her crying and no matter how much he begged, she refused to allow him entry into her room. She'd been fine last night when they'd pored over their books in what had become their favorite room in the Dark Castle. What could have possibly upset her so terribly?

He had little choice. Oh, but he really didn't want to have to resort to calling on his father. Rumpelstiltskin had been spending an inordinate amount of time away from home, off on one deal after another and hated to be disturbed. But this was an emergency! Morraine had never closed herself off from him like this before. And to hear her sobbing as if her heart were breaking? Well, that was just a bit too much for the boy to handle.

"Papa! Papa, I need you!" he called, knowing wherever Rumpelstiltskin was or whatever he may be doing, he would heed a call from his children.

The sorcerer appeared in a great burst of violet smoke before the last word had left his mouth. "Bae! What is it, son? Are you hurt?" he asked, his eyes scanning the boy for any sign of injury.

Baelfire shook his head frantically. "No, it's not me, Papa, I'm fine. It's Morraine!"

It was then the sorcerer's sensitive hearing picked up on the sound of his daughter's mournful wailing seeping out from beneath her bedchamber door. "What's wrong with your sister?"

"I don't know! She's locked herself in her room and won't let me in."

Rumpelstiltskin's brows furrowed as he watched his son dance from foot to foot in barely suppressed agitation. "Did you upset her in some way?" he asked as he knocked softly on the door. "Morraine, dearie, it's Papa. Will you open the door for me?"

Baelfire shook his head. "No, I swear. I came to check up on her when she didn't come down for breakfast and she was like this."

"No! Go away and let me die in peace!" came the anguished cry from the other side of the door. The sorcerer's eyes widened, and one imperious brow rose as he shared a dubious look with his son.

"Sweetheart," he said, gentling his tone. "It can't be as bad as all that. Let me in and we'll talk about this. You know Papa won't let any harm come to you."

Her crying increased to the point where he could barely understand her, but he did catch a few words. He really hated to do it. He didn't relish invading his children's personal space, but he couldn't stand to see either of them in pain when he was sure there was something he could do to help. With a wisp of magic, the door opened a crack, but he paused as Baelfire took a step forward to enter the room.

Rumpelstiltskin laid a restraining hand on Bae's shoulder. "Son, why don't you go down to the kitchen and prepare a pot of tea for your sister. You know a good cup always tends to soothe her."

"But—" his argument trailed away at a stern look from his father. "Yes, Papa."

The imp eased himself into the room and shut the door behind him with a soft snick of the latch. His poor girl was lying in the center of her huge bed, curled into a ball of hopelessness and crying as though someone had ripped her heart from her chest. He sat down gently on the side of the bed so as not to jar her and rubbed her back in soothing circles as he tried to offer her comfort.

"Dearie, tell Papa what has you so distressed. Please?" he asked, hesitantly. He couldn't very well fix whatever was wrong if she wouldn't confide in him.

"I'm bleeding to death. I doubt I'll last till dinner," she wailed, turning to throw her arms about his neck, her petite frame wracked with sobs.

"Did you injure yourself? I promise my magic can heal you," he assured her.

"No, you can't. It won't stop and my stomach hurts and I ache all over and now I'm going to die and have to leave you and Bae and how will you survive if I'm not here to make sure you eat? Bae needs help to find a way to break your curse and I won't be here to help him and —"

Her words faded intelligibly into more tear-choked wails. "You're not dying, Morraine. I'm sure it's …" He stiffened as realization set in and a fiery blush darkened the scales on his face. "… oh."

Being dropped into the ninth circle of hell completely naked to burn for eternity couldn't have been more uncomfortable for him in that moment. He gaped like a fish as he opened his mouth and then just as swiftly snapped it closed. This shouldn't have happened; he wasn't equipped to explain such things to his daughter. Yet if he didn't, who would? It wasn't as if he employed a maid who could tell her what she needed to know or had a wife who would sit her down and prepare her for her role as a woman. There was a widow woman who ran the inn in the village she could talk to, but it would be a cold day in hell before she did a favor for the Dark One.

He bounded nervously to his feet after setting her back gently. "Um … well," he twittered nervously as he began to pace. "It's not going to kill you, dearie. It's part of becoming a woman. When a woman reaches … um … child bearing age …" Gods, he was mucking this up! "… her body goes through changes."

"Why?"

"It just does!" he snapped, his voice higher pitched than normal in his befuddled state. "Just know that you're not dying, and it will only happen to you once a month." Thank the blessed Gods!

"I'm going to be okay?" she asked, her tears lessening as a hopeful smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

"Of course, dearie." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her brow. "You're going to be fine." He flitted into the bathing chamber which separated her bedroom from Baelfire's. He then filled the tub with water and set out cloths she could use during her moon cycle. The tears had subsided completely when he returned to her. She trusted him and knew he would never lie to her. "Come along then. Have a nice soak in the tub and you'll feel much better. I've left you some necessary items to see to your … erm … little problem and I'm going to go up to the tower to make you a potion to help with your cramping, alright?" In the meantime, he'd search the library to see if there might be a book which would explain everything to her in detail.

Morraine rose from the bed and swiped a hand over her eyes to dispel the last of her tears. She wrapped her arms around her father's waist and nestled against his chest. "I love you, Papa. Thank you."

Rumpelstiltskin shooed her off towards the bathing chamber with a weak smile, feeling as though he were the biggest idiot in the seven realms … and if not, surely the most uncomfortable one. Baelfire entered the room carrying a tea tray set with three cups and a plate of scones he'd found in the pantry.

"Is she going to be alright, papa?" he asked, chewing his lower lip in thoughtful concern for his sister.

"She's going to be fine, son," he replied, ruffling his son's dark hair. He, on the other hand, would probably never live down the embarrassment. "I'll be in the tower should you need me."

"What about your deal?" the boy asked incredulously. "Aren't you going to return to your client?"

The imp wrinkled his nose in amusement and shook his head. "No, son, my heart just isn't in it anymore. I'd much rather see to my family."

His son beamed at him as Rumpelstiltskin left the room, more than a little pleased by his father's choice. He closed the door to Morraine's bedroom and made his way slowly to his tower laboratory. His mind whirled with dismay as he trekked through the dimly lit hallway, only the sound of his boot heels on the cold marble there to keep him company. He was slowly coming to the realization that his children needed a female role model in their lives. This entire situation with Morraine wouldn't have distressed him so much if they had a woman in their lives to explain such matters. And what of other matters which might arise as they grew?

The dark demon, he shared his body with, snarled in laughter in the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside. He hadn't lied to Bae when he'd said he was more firmly in control. Yet the thought still niggled at his mind that they needed more. They were the two most important people in his life. They had been with him from the beginning in his struggles with his curse. They were the reason he'd taken it on to begin with. He couldn't fail them now. What he needed was … Gods was he even contemplating this? What he needed was a mother for his precious children. And if he were to set a good moral example for them, she'd also have to become his wife.

He plunked down onto the stool at his workbench with a heavy thud. He was the Dark One, the vilest wizard in the realms, the creature everyone feared. Who in their right mind would bind herself to him?

A/N: I know it's a short chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Poor Rum has his hands full with those children, but where's he ever going to find the help he needs? We'll soon find out. Next chapter will be his deal with Belle and it's not going to be what we saw on the show. I have to put my own spin on things. Sorry if he seems a bit out of character, but me being me, well ... I regret nothing. After all, he hasn't had centuries of misery and darkness to make him as we see him on the show. He's got Bae and he's trying to be good for him. Please don't hesitate to tell me what you think (o: