He had, once upon a time, run away from serving in the army. Run away from fighting in the ogre wars. Not because he was afraid of the ogres. No. He had hobbled himself so that he could be sent home to his son. He hadn't known he was going to have a son when he had left for the war, but he did know what it was like to grow up with an absent parent or two. Or an unloving one.
Oh yes, he knew what that was like. Love, rather than cowardice, had seen him heed the words of that Seer so long ago in such a way.
And now, nearly two years on from the day he'd brought Harry to his castle, and mere days after he had finally finished sorting through every last book, trinket, and treasure he had acquired as payment to keep the boy (the discovery of the time turners had been most helpful, though unfortunately they couldn't take him back to the day he had lost Baelfire, but he had rather expected that, despite any hopes to the contrary). He hadn't read every book yet of course. That would likely take him another century or two, even with the time turners.
He couldn't leave Harry alone for too long, so the time turners were used frequently. The lad was three years old now, and the oft-smiling child was a curious little beastie. Rumple worried that one of these days, Harry would get himself into the potions ingredients (despite the locks on the door) and have himself poisoned half-way to death by accident.
When that day came though, he'd be prepared. Beozars were quite the clever little item. Rumple really was glad of the time turners though. Using them had granted him time to read that rather illuminating text from Harry's world, the one called Moste Potente Potions, from cover to cover during just one of the boy's afternoon naps.
Of course, some of the potions rather offended his sensibilities, as well as the very rules of magic that existed in the Enchanted Forest. Then he recalled his conversation with Harry's mother, and he settled. Love potions did not, after all, create real emotion, thus they did not break the rules of magic.
On this particular day, Rumplestiltskin received a plea from a kingdom that was still fighting that war against the ogres, and it was losing.
It could have been amusing in how desperately it was given, except, of course, for the desperation itself. Here were people who were running out of options, and hope, that they were willing to turn to him, when other kingdoms asked for aid and protection from fairies and their ilk.
Rumplestiltskin would be using the nifty little time turner yet again. He'd go, investigate the situation, see how bad it really was, and just as importantly he would see what would be an appropriate price for whatever deal he might strike. The question was always what would take his fancy, what might they have that would be of use to him?
Books of magic? Unlikely, that kingdom was known as a rather straightforward place. No fairy affiliations anywhere within their borders, as far as he could tell, which left him more inclined to be kind towards them. Or obliging, at least.
He wondered, for a moment, if having the child – and raising the boy as his mother had requested – was making him softer, but ultimately decided that it didn't matter. He made deals every day. Small deals, big deals, very few deals that had anything to do with his own personal goal, and rather a lot more to do with passing time. It served his reputation quite a bit as well. Taking children was certainly something he did. He had one running around his castle to prove it.
Keeping them, however, was something he had done only once. Far more common was passing the child on to someone who would give anything for a babe of their own – the same sort of desperation that had seen the child being given up in the first place.
At the same time as he toured the kingdom that had called for his help, he was still in his castle, minding the child. Having the ability to be in two places at once was never so invaluable as when there were children that needed minding at the same time as there was work to be done. With a grin, Rumple came to a decision, and returned exactly on time to his castle, just as his past self vanished with the time turner. He had a spell to construct and a contract to write up, and it was best done while Harry was down for his nap.
~oOo~
"Sire, news from the battle field. The ogres are only a day's march from the castle."
The voice of a soldier reporting.
"Oh my gods..."
The moan of a ruler who has lost hope.
"If only he had come..."
The insincere and pointless words of an idiot with standing.
"Well he didn't, did he!?"
The snapped answer of that same ruler who didn't care for pointless pleasantries at this time.
"Ogres are not men. We have to do something. We have to stop them."
Idiots really should not be permitted to live. But then, that's what wars were for – a place to send the idiots to die.
"There is no stopping them."
That king really had lost hope.
"He could be on his way right now, Papa."
Rumple smiled at that, simply and honestly delighted at that token of faith, placed in him. Of all people.
"No, my girl, I think we must accept that he will not..."
Rumple giggled softly to himself as he banged on the door. He'd not enter that way, but it was always polite to knock before entering a room.
"It's him! It has to be him," insisted that same voice of faith. That sweet, feminine voice.
"How could he get past the walls?" That was a rhetorical question, and one delivered with some degree of sarcastic disbelief.
Rumple felt mildly insulted by it.
"Open it!" came the order.
Rumple smiled and vanished. The attention of all in the room would, he was quite sure, be on the door. That would give him plenty of room to appear behind them and make himself comfortable. Oh, and there was a chair, how thoughtful.
The doors were opened, and the only thing beyond them was a whispering wind. Still, all eyes were fixed there, and the girl – the only one of the gentle sex in the room – seemed to rise on her toes and crane her neck, as though that might let her see something that she had missed from her usual height.
"Well, that was a bit of a let-down," Rumple declared frankly, and smiled when every single person in the room turned sharply at his voice and stared in shock.
One idiot slid his sword out slowly and stepped up to threaten him with it. It was a very shiny sword, and the man's hold on it was limp in the wrist. Rumple guessed the fool had never actually used that sword in all his life, except as a show-piece like he was now.
"You sent me a message," he continued, unconcerned. "Something about, um... 'Help! Help! We're dying! Can you save us?'" he quoted, and allowed his amusement at the exact phrasing to show through before he began to slide up from the chair he had been sitting on. "Well the answer is," he pushed the sword down with only a hint of annoyance, "'yes'. I can."
The idiot displayed the entire depth of his intelligence by backing off, just a little.
"Yes, I can protect your little town. I can protect your whole country, in fact. For a price," he said with a smile.
"We sent you a promise of gold," the king stated, just a little desperately, and just a little more angrily.
"Ah, you see, I make gold," Rumple pointed out, using his 'I am explaining to a child' voice. That voice that was just a little higher and rarely – if ever – got used when speaking words with more than one syllable. "What I want is something a bit more special," he explained with a hint of a hiss in his words.
Then with a flourish of his hands he produced the two contracts he had written.
"One will protect your town, the other your whole country," he informed the little assemblage. "I promise, they're not too complex, there are no loopholes or hidden agendas. Read them aloud," he bid carelessly.
"In exchange for the safety of the castle and all who dwell within it against the invasion of ogres, the Dark One may take for a servant the -" the king cut himself off. "No!" he objected.
"Papa?" the young woman enquired softly. "What is it?"
"You, dearie," Rumple declared, and pointed one black-nailed finger at her. "My price is you."
"I forbid it," growled the idiot with his shiny, shiny sword.
"No one decides my fate but me," the young woman snapped right back at him, which stunned every man in the room save Rumple, and she turned to him once more. "If I go with you, my friends, my family, they'll be safe?"
"That's right dearie," Rumple agreed. "But you might want to look at the other offer before you agree to that one."
~oOo~
Belle grabbed the second scroll from her father before he could even unroll it to read what was inside.
This scroll stipulated that she would become the wife of the man before her, and in exchange, he would set in place a spell that would kill any ogre presently within the kingdom, and would kill any ogre attempting to enter the kingdom within five steps of their crossing the border.
And the spell would last for as long as there were still ogres in the world. The people of Avonlea would never have to fear again. Their country could become a refuge for all people against ogres, and with that safety, they could prosper.
"Will... will all of the duties of such a position be expected of me?" Belle managed to ask the man with the green-gold skin when she looked up from the contract in her hands. She even managed to keep her voice steady as she asked it.
"Dearie, even a monster is capable of being a gentleman, just as any human is capable of being monstrous," he informed her, his voice mellow and serious.
"I suppose that's as much of an answer as I'm going to get," Belle decided softly as she looked down at the contract once more.
"Your father has to sign that one though dearie," he said lightly. "A spell as powerful as that? A sacrifice is required. You can't just agree to it for yourself. You have to be given. More to the point, you have to be given up. And it's forever dearie, don't forget that."
Belle rounded on her father then. "Sign it," she... Begged? Ordered? "It will protect the wholekingdom Papa," she said more gently. "Not just the town, but the whole kingdom. I may be the price for that, but if it's one I'm willing to pay, then how can you say no?"
"Belle, you can't go with this... this beast," her father begged her.
The Dark One affected offence and hurt, a hand going over his chest and his mouth dropping open as his eyes rolled slightly. Still, not a word was said. Belle spared a moment to wonder how often people spoke ill of him that he could make light of it like that.
"Yes, I can, and I will," Belle insisted. "You have sent hundreds of soldiers out to fight those ogres, and they have died, leaving loved ones behind. This is no different, except that this? This will actually work. This will protect our home, our people, everyone. Please, Papa. Let me do this for our people."
Belle could see that her father's heart was breaking right before her eyes, but he reached for a pen all the same, and signed the contract.
"Wonderful!" cheered the sorcerer as the contract was handed back to him, and with a worrying grin he vanished both contracts – and a ripple of magic spread out from his hand, over the map of the kingdom. It sank in, then exploded outwards. A gust of wind caught on their clothing, but that was the extent of it.
Beyond the castle though, throughout the country, ogres were dying.
