The sounds of battle were heavy.

The red of the skies grew deeper in color over the training camp where many village men gave their hand at their newly found skills that would be necessary to wage war and hopefully, to them, be honed enough to see that they returned home to their families once the Ogre Wars had ended.

One man in particular, a talented spinner, could feel the blood pulsing in his veins as he donned his studded doublet and slid the heavy chain mail over his slender shoulders. A tugged smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as his body shifted beneath the settling metal links at his neck. With a final firm pull at his gloves in place, his smile broadened as he imagined how he must have looked in that moment. A /strong/ man. Ready for battle.

The spinner would show to everyone around him, that he was far from the coward that his father was, and once he returned from the fields of battle, he could visulize the cheering lots of his village, hoisting him and the returning soldiers up upon their shoulders in victory. The name of 'Rumplestiltkin' would be repeated with admiration on the lips of the wives and families of those sparred during the bloodshed they would fight off. /The King's Army/.

It was a summons worth highest hopes and praises for. An opportunity he never imagined he would be able to seize!

Not to say that the fame was what he was after...Rumple's gloved hands fixed at the collar of the chain mail, finger slipping beneath with a tug to adjust it as comfortable as could be had. He simply wanted to forever separate himself from the persona, the shadow, of the man that left him alone. Left him fatherless.

The /coward/.

Rumple's eyes shifted outward, watching the fellow villagers with their repetitive motions of sword strikes and use of stones to sharpen their blades before the battle was to wage so very soon. He swallowed hard. A lump rose in his throat, catching for a moment before he shook the thoughts of death from his mind. No. This wasn't going to be a failure. Even if he should die in battle, it would prove to everyone that he didn't run. He didn't turn his back and flee. He would see this through to the end, regardless of the outcome.

As he made his way between the tents and his fellow soldiers, his attention was broken from thought at the stern voice of command, "Soldier." Rumple's steps halted, his eyes lifting curiously in the direction of the summons, "Me...?" he questioned, slightly taken off guard as his mind swam with thought.

"I'm needed at the front. You guard this crate with your life." There was a sense of seriousness in the demand as the higher ranked gestured to a nearby cage covered with a tarp.

"W-what's under there?" he questioned as his eyes laid place onto it, regretting the sudden disregard of orders.

His shoulders pulled up in a subtle wince as his darkened eyes shifted back to meet the solider, "A prisoner who could help us turn the tide against the ogres. Careful. It's a tricky beast..." the soldier's eyes narrowed upon the final words. There was a hesitation lingering in his words at having to leave /this/ man of all in the brigade to watch over such valuable cargo, but his call was needed to be answered immediately.

Rumple could understand the importance of the task at hand. His eyes lowered slightly with a nod, "Yes, sir..." As the man left, Rumple couldn't help, but feel compelled towards the crate. As he drew nearer, the coo of a child's voice called out to him, "Rumplestiltskin..."

Confused, his fingers curled at the tarp hiding the crate beneath, throwing back the fabric. Inside the cage beneath a young girl sat, dirtied. Rumple's brow drew back at the sight before him as his eyes scanned over the burnt red hair shadowing eyes that appeared to be sewn shut. His words caught in his throat for a moment, taken back by this...'tricky beast' before him, "You're a child..." Her fingers rose, addressing a nearby object, a bucket of water. How did she know it was... his thoughts paused, expression aghast at her followed request.

"Please...I haven't had a sip in days."

Rumple's eyes narrowed faintly, confused, "How do you know my name?" A question well placed. And, a well placed answer was his reply.

"I'm a seer. I see all." The young girl's hands lifted to extend before her, her head swayed slightly to the side, chin lifted. Rumple's eyes widened, there were...eyes in her palms. This young girl's eyes were in the very flesh of her hands. He'd never seen anything like it before. The previous soldier said she was a tricky beast...surely this was one of her well sorted tricks.

"No, no, no. That's… That's not possible. You must have overheard someone speak." His lips tugged in bemusement. His words not only trying to convince this young one, but also himself. A feeling sank in the very belly of his gut, unable to resist closing the gap between the both of them. The young girl's chin shifted once again, the cobalt blue spheres in her hands blinking curiously as they watched him closely.

"Rumplestiltskin, the son of a coward. Raised by spinsters. Scared of ending up just like his father. Did I overhear that? I told you... I see all, even what has yet to pass..." There were barely a pause between words. She read every essence of him just as if he were an opened book with each word of his life spelled out in the boldest of fine print. The very beat of his heart staved off three beats as he listened to her speak.

"You mean the future? You can see the future?" he questioned, almost begging. One more step closer to the cage, his heart sinking in his chest, nearly afraid to hear her answer:

"Indeed I can… Including yours." The twist of her voice on the calming winds of battle sent a chill to the bones of anyone that could've possibly heard. Rumple's mind was struggling with conflicting. Trying to understand, while struggling with the denial that it was possible. His curiosity tugged at him. He couldn't help, but question further...

"No, no, no. I… I won't indulge this…dark magic." He argued. Struggling with the disbelief.

"Even if what I see concerns your wife?" There was pause in the fluttered, lulling and spectred voice before it finished it's sentence, "...Milah?" Rumple's brows dropped back, a pain in his chest as his fingers pulled to clutch at the bars of the cage. Fear engulfed his very soul.

"Why? Has something happened to her?" he pleaded in question. The Seer remained calm. Her hands lowered slightly as the thirst drove at her. This would be her leverage..."Give me water." he recalled her asking. Rumple fumbled at the water ladle, bringing it within grasp of her hands, as she took hold of it, fingers tracing the rough edges of the holder, his brow furrowed with impatience, his tone shifting from worry to demand, "Here. Slake your thirst, witch, and speak of what you know of my wife." The Seer took a sip, head cocked curiously, as if assuming he should've already known the answer she would speak next, "She is already with child." Her lips lowered to take another thirsty sip, her eyes shadowed beneath the grasp of the cup. The tightening in his chest clamped shut with an unexpected gasp of sudden happiness, "I'm to be a father?" His eyes lit with a fire new, his fingers resisting the urge to clasp to the bars of the cage and drew closely. Despite recalling the words of the soldier and the tricks of this caged creature, he couldn't help, but feel the allure of the words as she addressed each question he spilled from his heart. The Seer paused, lowering the cup in her hands as her head canted in recollection to vision.

"Your wife will bear you a son, but your actions on the battlefield tomorrow will leave him fatherless."

Death? Was this how it was suddenly to end with the knowledge bestowed upon him? His stomach churned. His eyes clenched shut in disbelief. Rumple shook his head, refusing to believe the visions bestowed upon him. All previous want of heroism was cast aside in that instant. He had a /son/. His own flesh and blood? How could he delve in to the heat of battle, sacrificing his own life when he has his own blood on the line? Would that not make him as much of an abandonment as his own father? How could he /not/ be there for the life of his /son/? He felt the vice tighten. If he could've gone back to never coming across this beast of a creature, how he would've, if he could've. While part of him struggled to believe it was all, but a mind game, he couldn't help, but worry in the back of his mind that she was /right/. Milah and he had shared the most intimate of moments before he took to the front lines...the lingered fear and worry that they'd never see each other again, despite his excitement to prove himself in battle...had that been the moment. That very moment his son was conceived...He dared not chance it. Rumple could feel his anxiety and tinge of anger swell, "I'm going to die? No, no, no. You… Y-you must tell me how I can stop that happening...!"

The Seer swiftly cut him off without hesitation, "You can't." Rumple's emotions grew. His brow knit, growing quickly exhausted with this well played.../game/. His hand quickly snatched back the water from her grasp, "Then I'm /done/ helping you." He forced a laugh, nearly on the verge of hysterics in it's reply. The soldier was right. This /was/ a beast. A deceitful one at that! "I'll bet Milah isn't even pregnant. You just said that so I would give you water, and now you're trying to trick me into deserting." His lips pulled back into a sneer of a smile, casting aside the water back into it's bucket with a splash of water.

The Seer rested back into her cage, hands lowering gently, "You shall see. Tomorrow, when you see the army ride cows into battle, you will know I speak the truth..."

A subtle laugh built within him, brow arching with amusement, refusing to give way to her words, "Cows? And who's going to man the catapults? Milk maids? I have had enough with your fiendish lies."

"There is no escaping it. You will have a son, and your actions will leave him fatherless."

Refusing to hear any further, Rumple jerked the cloth back into place to cover the cage. His brow knit sadly, his internal thoughts refusing to let the words of said 'seer' sway him otherwise...his hand clenched to his chest, chin lowered as his eyes closed. At that moment he made a vow that he would protect Milah, his townsmen and townswomen, and face the fight. This...beast of a creature would hold no sway over him, over things so easily heard among the men in their nearby quarters.

At sunrise, he would go into battle, just as the others, and fight to the death if need be.

He as /no/ coward.

And, no vision, nor false reason would sway him otherwise...

During the night, Rumple's dreams gave way to a number of intricately spun visions in his mind. His body shifted beneath the rough, yet thin fabrics at his chest as he turned, arms clutching tight to his pillow in his slumber. The words of the Seer echoed in his mind, [She is already with child. Your wife will bear you a son...] A faint smile tugged at his lips in his sleep, arms tightening at the pillow as his mind swirled into scene of him returning home from the wars. Milah greeting him with a teary smile as he stepped through the door, back into their modest home with a young baby boy swaddled in blankets held in her arms. Tears lined his eyes as his smile widened, "Milah,...Milah!" His steps hurried to her, arms cloaking around her as he pulled his wife and son into his arms as they shakily clutched to the both of them.

The gods were with him. He was able to return home. "What's his name?" he pulled back, the expression lining his face more gentle and caring than she had ever seen as he stared in awe at the sight of their son. His fingers softly stroked the child's hair as he slept in his mother's arms. Such a gentle and precious life. Every bit of war was worth fighting, if only to protect such innocence...He couldn't pull his darkened eyes away from this treasured sight before him.

"Baelfire..." She smiled, eyes lifting to meet his, clearly noting the emotion engulfing her husband at the mention of their child's name. Feeling the joy tugging at her at the fact that her husband was able to return home to them. The war was over. They could have their family...

A small tear traced down her cheek at the mixture of emotions and gratefulness she felt swelling in her heart. Rumple's hand rose to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking the rosy flesh of his beautiful wife's cheek, "A /strong/ name...!" his words caught in his throat, unable to contain the elation in his voice. Rumple's fingers slid to gently curl at the back of Milah's neck, pulling her near as he let his lips fall into a soft kiss at her forehead. He lingered there for moments that seemed near an eternity before resting his forehead to her's with a subtle chuckle in his throat. /This/ was his happy ending. His purpose in life. If there were ever a doubt in his mind, despite all that he'd gone through until this moment, /every/ bit of it was worth it, if not for this moment.

The flames of war stirred. The bells of the camp clanged loudly, stirring the spinner from his slumber. The fire of his modest hut snuffed to ash. His wife, Milah, and son faded with a subtle smile as they were tugged back into the darkness of his mind as his war-torn hands reached out to keep them in his arms. Rumple pulled himself upright from the floor of his ragged tent, hands sliding over his face with a halt. His deep eyes glanced down as he pulled his fingers from his cheek, brows drawn back with solemness...a trickle of dampness traced down his middle and ring finger. Had he been crying in his sleep...? It was a wondrous dream...one that he looked forward to living out once this entire mess was over. His heart sank, unknowing as to why, but something upon his wake weighed heavy on him as his dream quickly began to fade from his memories, as they so often did upon waking. The one thing he clung to was the name of his son from his dream.

Baelfire.

Without further hesitation, he knew what the bells meant. Quickly donning his poor excuse for battle-wear, Rumple fitted his tempered sword at his hip as he took step outside from his tent. His eyes grew wide at the sight of injured and deceased soldiers being carried in from the battlefield on stretchers. The sounds of many of their screams of agony piercing the air as they passed by in a hurry. A nearby, piss-poor excuse of a soldier muttered beneath his breath, "Lucky bastards..." Rumple's brow quirked with surprise, glancing at the man from the side, unable to pull his eyes from the tortured souls passing them in aid, "Oh… I think they'd beg to differ." Who would ever want to endure such pain. Such loss. True, these men weren't dead, but their screams of torment were convincing enough that they would rather be dead.

"They're not dead, but they can't fight. Which means, they get sent home. That's the only way out of here alive. When the ogres rip you limb from limb, pray that they're quick." The man sneered, words still muttered beneath a drunken sense of hate seeping from the mead on his lips as his glazed eyes watched on. Before Rumple could reply, the voice of another broke the chaotic murmurings of the soldiers surrounding the area, the crowd drawing near with curiosity in each of their eyes, "Fortune favours us! Fresh supplies have arrived from the Duke. Today, we will not be marching into battle. We'll be riding!"

A few raised voice in cheer and anticipation to be carrying on into battle. The few remaining held the heavy cloud of anguish about them.

Heartbreak.

Fear.

While many were willing to fight and die for this war, there were many poor soldiers who were mere men that wished to see their families, once more. The word across the battlefield was fear inducing, by far...what matter of mad, blind-eyed idiots would be so willing to sacrifice themselves for the King's Army. It was a load of bollocks. Rumple could see the distinguishing looks in each of their faces. His brow knit, stepping forward to the announcer as the soldiers began to clear out, ready for battle, "Riding? Riding what?" he asked, voice stammered for a moment at the sudden shift of commands. A second soldier chimed in, his tone nearly agitated at the nerve of the question at hand.

"What kind of question is that? A horse, of course. Now, grab yourself a cow, and get ready." the soldier replied. Rumple's heart sank. The words of the Seer slammed back into his mind like a hammer, [You shall see. Tomorrow, when you see the army ride cows into battle, you will know I speak the truth...] He swallowed heavily, "I'm sorry, sir. W-What did you say?"

The man scoffed, shaking his head at the fact he needed to repeat himself, "A cow. The saddles we just got in – made from the finest leather. We call 'em cows. Grab yours, so at least the ride into doom will be a soft one on your backside." The jestful curb in his tone sent shivers down Rumple's spine. His eyes grew heavy with worry, as the creases lining his forehead spoke paragraphs upon recalling the words of the Seer. The crowd quickly dissipated, leaving Rumplestiltskin alone in his tormented thoughts of the past few hours. The man before that he'd spoken to took notice of his hesitation. His head tilted with curiosity, asking despite knowing this would be the last few moments he would take another breath with any other soul on this plain of existence, "Are you alright...?" he asked. His tone surprisingly sincere.

Rumple forced a smile, fighting the sensation of tears lining at his eyes, " Yes. You…You go. I'll catch up." The man silently nodded, taking his leave. Rumple's eyes shifted to meet gaze with the shrouded cart where the Seer was held the previous night. A mixture of anger and anguish boiled together within him. He quickly made his way to the familiar cage, gripping at the cloth concealing the 'tricky beast' and casting it aside. His accusations boomed loudly, as his emotions were torn asunder, "So, it's all true. I'm going to have a son. And I'm going to die..!" The silence fell heavy.

The Seer was gone...

Rumple's brow knit in pain, his expression pained as he took in the realization that he would never see his son. That he would, infact, be no better than the bastard of a father that left him alone as a child. The agony was overwhelming.. "Answer me!" he pleaded. The anger consumed him. His fist crashed into the crate several times, until his eyes caught sight of a sledge hammer a few feet away...

Picking it up and draws it over his head. Hesitating, he checks that the coast is clear, ready to slam the wretched metal into his ankle, and return home to his wife and son as the Seer had predicted. The words of the previous soldier rang loudly in his head...

"Lucky bastards..."

Rumple felt his fingers halt. His eyes shakily looked down at his ankle while the weight of the hammer weighed heavy above.

He couldn't do it...

The struggle of the Seer's words and his own sanity were a war unto itself. There was too much to strive to make sense of...Believe the words of an estranged child, or go with what he felt was right.

Fight...

Prove one's self.

In his dream, did he not visualize that he would return after the war to open arms of his wife, well with son in tow?

His heart shattered into a million pieces at the thought.

Rumple cast aside the tattered tarp, fingers curling at the cold steel at his side as his eyes turned towards to the sounds of war upon the realization that the Seer was gone.

Missing.

Unaccounted for...

A smile tugged at his lips, saddened, but sure...

"Despite the signs shown to me, I will fight...for my wife. My /son/..." The very words seized in his throat as his eyes lifted skyward, fingers clutching tightly at what slim piece of metal that would attempt to protect him during the madness of what was laid before him. His brow fell solemn, a smile pressed hardened at his lips. If there was one thing he wasn't, and would prove to be, it was that he wasn't a coward. That was something he would never be...despite the words of prophecy.

Closing his eyes, Rumple followed suit into the battle. His fingers drew the blade at his side along with the many men who fought so similarly at his side. Bloodshed and brimstone shattered his very soul, but to the gods be damned if he didn't do everything in power to protect them...give them what chance they deserved...

The cry of metal against holster sounded as he drew his blade free. His deep brown eyes cast upwards upon the battlefield with the dreams of his previous night lingering in his mind. A lump held strong in his throat as a final smile tugged at his lips. The masses of Ogres drew heavily onto the field, each man shuttered and engulfed with fear. The last flickers of light burning brightly in their eyes as the battle weighed heavy in the final moments. The spinner drew his sword, pulled at his side, ready to strike even if it was his last. That modest smile drawing at his lips as his saddened eyes looked up towards the heavens, the final words escaping his lips before the rages of war broke the scatters of the very earth beneath them...'Baelfire...my /son/.'

Rumple smiled into the dregs of war, the storm crashing heavy above as the battle broke, "My happy ending..."