A/N: Zilarha has a plan to get them all back to the Enchanted Forest. But at what cost?
"To see who he was before the Ogre War changed him. Or revealed his true character. If you saw that," she tilted her head and regarded her curiously. "Would you still claim to love the man behind the beast?"
Belle was speechless.
Zilarha waved a hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter now, of course. We'll all either perish here or return home." She sighed. "Home. It seems like just yesterday . . . but so long ago and far away . . . I have what I came for. If the potion works, we'll all be protected for the journey. If it doesn't, Regina's got - She always has a Plan B. Toodle-oo, dearie."
Zilarha flexed her fingers and began playing a simple tune on her lyre. The potion in her small cauldron bubbled and smouldered. It began to glow pink. She sang the words of the spell. The smoke turned red.
She grinned. It had worked.
That evening, Belle found herself strolling down an unfamiliar street. She who prided herself on knowing every inch of Storybrooke, every storefront, every intersection, was lost.
Maybe she was still upset over what had happened with Rumpelstiltskin. Maybe it was that conversation she'd had with Zilarha.
"How can this be?" she murmured. A sudden breeze chilled her, and her thick coat did little to shield her from it. "Where am I?"
"Fancy meeting you here," Zilarha greeted. "Would you like to come in? I was just sitting down to dinner, if you'd care to join me."
"That - that would be lovely. Thank you. I'm not sure how I wound up in this part of town," she explained as she removed her coat. The heat from the hearth was terribly inviting, and the aroma of freshly baked bread was too welcoming to turn down the offer.
Zilarha shrugged. "I'm afraid it's the -" She fluttered her hands about. "That bizarre spell's making things go all wibbly-wobbly, shifty-wifty. Too much magick, fighting for dominance in a world where it shouldn't exist. Not all of it at once, anyway. On the upside, that potion we were working on proved true."
"P-potion?"
"Yeah. The protection elixir. The melody of melancholic wonder. Remember?"
"Oh, yes, of course. The potion. This all looks wonderful. Shire puddings?"
"Mm-hmm. I always seem to make too much, but then someone turns up at my door. Would you like some wine? Or tea? I could put the kettle on."
"No, no. Wine is fine. After what's been going on, I could use some wine. Merlot, is it?" she asked as she swirled the dark liquid in her glass.
"Burgundy, actually. I was saving it for . . . well . . . a special occasion, but I guess that's - What could be more special than going home soon?"
Belle drained her glass. "Yeah. Home. Mmm. I can see why you'd want this wine for a special occasion. And this bread is delicious! If I had to get lost, I'm glad I wound up at your door."
Zilarha smiled back at her. "So'm I. And don't worry. He'll find a way home, too."
The wine had done its work, and Belle was resting comfortably in Zilarha's parlour. The sky was cloudy as she made her way to Gold's shop, and the few people not indoors scarcely even noticed her.
'I'll keep the lights down. Don't want to attract much attention. Just get what you need and go. There'll be time for the rest later,' she reminded herself as she gathered things into her cloak's pockets. There were too many crystals to risk taking them all at once; only a few of them were necessary for what she had in mind. The sachets of herbs were a treasure trove, lying there for the taking, but she pocketed only those she needed for this spell. And the hand mirrors would be lovely in her home, but there was one in particular that would be of use to her on this night.
"Don't worry, Rum. We'll be together again soon. I promise."
