Chapter 3—"Those We Have Loved"
Another month passed as they danced around one another, sometimes talking and sometimes ignoring one another's presence. Rumplestiltskin was glad that his mother didn't try to, well, mother him; if she had, he would have undoubtedly have shut down entirely. He'd never had a mother, and Rumplestiltskin wouldn't have known what to do with one. Moira and Parcae, the two spinsters who he had grown up calling his aunts, had been beyond good to him, but they had never been his parents. Even at the tender age of seven, he'd been too aware of the fact that he'd had real parents, and the one who had raised him had abandoned him.
Moira and Parcae weren't actually any relation of Malcolm's, which made it even more awkward when the other boys in Hamelin discovered that. He'd been mocked for being an orphan, mocked for being with 'those strange women', and mocked because he was taking up a woman's trade and spinning. It didn't matter that he was more skilled than any spinster in town other than his aunts by the age of ten, and it didn't matter that Moira got him apprenticed to a weaver when he was twelve. Rumplestiltskin mastered that art, too, but it meant leaving home for two crucial years, which he'd spent in Brenan, which was the next town over. He'd known how lucky he was, but that meant he wasn't home when Moira died, and Parcae was never the same after that.
So, his experience with family had always been that they left or had him leave. He spent that month expecting Morgan to walk out, to turn to him one day and say that she utterly despised him—because who would not detest having such a monster for a son? But she didn't. Oh, she didn't stay still, didn't remain in the castle, but she told him before left, and she always came back.
His mother always came back.
"Why are you still here?" he asked sometime after the month ended. His voice was harsher than he'd meant it to be, but Rumplestiltskin didn't care. Or did he?
She wants to find out your weaknesses!
"I already told you that." Morgan turned to face him calmly, still sitting near the fire in the Great Hall. Rumplestiltskin had strode in and opened the conversation without so much as a hello, but he needed to know.
"Tell me again, why don't you? You're Morgan le Fae, but we both know that you're not what you used to be. You're a bit washed up, and in your old age—very old, actually—you come to find your long lost son? Except I'm not what you expected, am I?"
"No, you aren't." Rising, she turned to look him in the eye. "I expected a Dark One. Someone who had long since given into the darkness, who had lost themselves and was no longer capable of feeling. Instead I found a father who is desperate to find his son."
Rumplestiltskin couldn't help flinching. "Don't try to pretend that you don't think I'm a monster!"
"I'm not so sure you are."
Hearing the compassion in her voice as she said that nearly broke him into tiny pieces; Rumplestiltskin didn't know how to deal with someone reaching out, with kindness he hadn't asked for or hadn't earned. He wanted this, wanted it so badly that it hurt, but if his relationship with Cora had taught him anything, it was that he didn't deserve love. No one loved him, not the way he was now and not the way he had been before. He was the one who was always left, the one who no one loved once they got to know him. That was what he had always been, and now that he was the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin knew that it was only worse.
"Tell me what you want!" The words tore out of him in a bellow, and he couldn't hold the fury and pain back any longer. Rumplestiltskin gestured with his left hand, and the chair Morgan had been sitting in smashed into the fireplace, shattering into a hundred burning pieces. "No one comes here without wanting something!"
Morgan didn't even flinch. "You're right, I do want something."
"Ah, here it is." Rumplestiltskin giggled harshly, spinning and flinging a hand up to emphasize his point. "What will it be, dearie? Power? Perhaps you want to be the Dark One yourself, hmmm? Maybe that's why you don't find me so despicable." The words burned in his throat, but he knew they were true, so Rumplestiltskin tried to sound flippant as he went on. "Or do you want to be a hero? You know enough to know that you can't destroy me, so are you playing at getting close so that you can trap me forever?"
Hurt her! Make her regret trying to use your feelings against you! The chorus of voices was almost deafening. But damn it all, despite the rage filling him, Rumplestiltskin couldn't bring himself to hurt Morgan. She was his mother, and he hated himself for wanting this.
"No. What I want is to make up for the wrongs I've done you." She grimaced. "When you reach my age…you begin to think of all the things you could have done better. When I learned about you, I knew where I needed to be."
Rumplestiltskin laughed, because a high-pitched giggle the only way he could think to mask his confusion. "Stop lying to me."
He'd meant the words to come out strong. Instead, they wound up sounding like a plea.
"I'm not lying, Rumplestiltskin." Her whisper was soft enough that he could pretend Morgan hadn't said a word.
"Rumple." His lips moved on their own, and he wanted to curse them shut.
"Come again?"
He didn't want to answer; he wanted to flee. But his emotions were too tangled to trust his magic, so Rumplestiltskin wheeled around and made for the closest way out of the hall—until a hand caught his arm. Gently.
"Rumple," he all but muttered, blinking rapidly. "You can—I mean—if you—never mind."
He tried to pull away, but the hand squeezed his arm, and damn his broken soul, he didn't want to.
"Rumple, then," his mother said softly. Then he finally managed to scrape up enough focus to teleport away before he started crying.
Nimue was prattling on and on about betrayal or heartbreak, about not trusting and absolutely not letting her in, but he barely heard a word. Rumplestiltskin just threw himself onto the window seat in his tower and stared out at the world, trying not to feel.
A week after that, they were at odds again. "You turned three girls into flowers?" Morgan demanded, her hands on her hips as she glared at her son.
He ignored her, spinning as if he hadn't heard her storm into the great hall.
"Rumplestiltskin!"
It was one thing for her son to be the Dark One; Morgan knew better than most how that darkness infected its host. She was honestly surprised that he got the better of it so often—or ever. But this was clearly not one of those moments. No, he'd thrown his darkness on display, nasty and fatal, and Morgan had been left to clean up his mess. She had, of course. The girls might have been vain and obnoxious little twits, but they'd deserved a chance to save themselves.
"Do not ignore me, young man. And do not make me say your name three times to get your attention." Her annoyed growl finally made Rumplestiltskin twist on his seat to face her.
"Or what? You'll yell at me for a while? Or have we moved into you trying to find some way to trap the terrible Dark One, to stop me from doing my evil deeds?" There was fury in his amber eyes, but fear, too. Morgan could see that plainly, and it made her temper flag a bit.
"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. I don't want to control you. I want you to control yourself!"
"I assure you, Mother, I was in perfect control when I turned those lovely little ladies into flowers." He giggled, clearly amused by what he'd done. "Turning them to toads would have been more fitting, but I thought the hall could use some color—"
Rumplestiltskin cut off, glancing around the hall with narrowed eyes. His gaze went left, then right, and then came back to settle on Morgan. She just crossed her arms, waiting.
"What did you do?" Suddenly, he was away from the wheel and right in her face, reptilian eyes fiery and body quivering with fury.
"I gave them an opportunity to learn from their mistakes." Morgan shrugged, refusing to back down. "Only one of them managed to."
"You took my flowers!"
The urge to reach out and smack him in the shoulder was almost overwhelming. "Stop sounding like a child. Of course I took your flowers, because they started life as young women. Plant a garden if you want to decorate."
"Dark Ones do not garden." He looked offended.
"Of course you don't." Morgan rolled her eyes. "Now, what did those fool girls do to annoy you so?"
"If you agree that they're fools, why release them?" he countered in a snarl.
"I didn't release them. Do pay attention. I gave them the chance to save themselves: one hour to speak to the person of their choosing, and then I moved them all to a field of flowers. If the person they chose could find them at before sundown, they would be free. One managed. The other two have probably been trampled by wild horses by now."
Morgan might have been offended by the reckless manner in which her son had turned three human beings into flowers, but she wasn't the type to give the girls a carte blanche, either. Or at least not after they were all so terribly rude when I did release them. Two of the three demanded that I turn the others back so they could win the prince themselves. Morgan hadn't needed to rig the game; she'd already known that two of the three would go to the prince and demand he find them in the field, whereas the third seemed smart enough to find someone wiser than a half-blind prince to visually search a field of flowers.
Rumplestiltskin snorted, and she thought she saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he finally backed out of her personal space. "They called me to make a deal, of course. But they couldn't keep the promises they'd made." Another giggle. "And two of the three wanted the same thing, anyway."
"The prince, of course." Foolish girls. Morgan could have told them from experience that marrying royalty rarely turned out well, and she'd been a princess to begin with.
"Well, it's every little girl's dream, isn't it?" Rumplestiltskin gestured airily. "Find the prince. Make him love you. Gain power—"
He cut off, looking away, and Morgan wanted to murder the miller's daughter who had toyed with his heart. How had this Cora ever thought a prince could give her more power than a besotted Dark One? Not that Morgan would have liked to see her son used for said purpose, but against all odds, he had honestly offered someone his heart. Someone who turned out to be utterly unworthy. But Morgan pushed aside the homicidal urges. The woman in question was pregnant, and she was not the sort to harm an unborn child, even if she did want to kill the mother.
Two months later, the chance to do so arrived.
When his magic alerted him to the fact that someone had entered his castle, it had never entered Rumplestiltskin's mind that it might be Cora. But when he walked into the great hall, there she was, looking beautiful enough to break his heart all over again. He stopped cold, and he was pretty sure that his heart stopped, too.
"What are you doing here?"
Rumplestiltskin had meant to sound threatening, but even he had to admit that he just sounded broken. Cora, however, was all smiles when she turned to face him.
"Rumple." Immediately, she started forward, but he was wise enough to skitter back. That made her stop. "Can't we talk like the old friends we are?"
"We're not friends, dearie," he snapped. Then he swallowed hard.
"Of course we are. You won't let one small mistake get in the way of that, will you?" Cora stepped forward again, reaching a hand out.
"One. Small. Mistake?" His voice small, Rumplestiltskin backed another uncertain step away from her.
"Yes. A mistake. And I'm sorry, Rumple. So very sorry. I never should have left you." Cora looked sorry, too, standing before him like a supplicant, her smile sad and wan.
Nervously, Rumplestiltskin licked his lips, trying to slow his racing heart. He'd been so furious with her, so certain that she'd never loved him. He'd done his damnedest to deny her the power she wanted, too, but what if Cora had been wrong? What if ten months apart had taught her that she wanted love more than power? She looked like she was being honest; she looked heartbroken. Just like he felt.
Don't be fooled, Spinner! Zoso's voice echoed in his head like thunder, making his head pound. She's using you again! Yet he could still feel the darkness coiling excitedly; it liked Cora. It always had. Cora tasted of blood and ambition, of power and even more darkness. Cora took what she wanted, just like it always wanted him to do. Cora was not shy or uncertain. Not ever.
"You're not sorry. You didn't love me." He backed up another step, trying to push back how badly he wanted to fold into her arms.
"Of course I did. And I still do." Finally, she managed to grab his hand, and Rumplestiltskin stopped trying to get away. "I made a mistake, Rumple. I thought that power would be enough. It isn't."
"It…isn't?"
He didn't want to sound hopeful. He didn't want to want her, but Cora had accepted him for who he was. She hadn't turned away from his ugly face, or been afraid of him. Cora had embraced his darkness, and she'd loved him for that. She said she loves me. Those words had shaken Rumplestiltskin to his very core, because he'd been so utterly convinced that Cora had been using him before. But what if she hadn't? Then use her, Zoso relented. Use her love for you to manipulate her the way she manipulated you. A cold chill ran through him, though, and Rumplestiltskin knew he couldn't do that. Not because he was too nice or too good to use someone, but because he wanted more.
So much more.
"Of course not. I should have listened to my heart." Cora gave him a tentative smile, stepping closer. He could almost feel her breath, now. "I won't ask for your forgiveness. I know it's too soon for that."
"You're—you're still married." He couldn't ignore the hand in his, but Rumplestiltskin could see the ring on her other hand.
"Unfortunately, yes. You were right about Henry. He's spineless and weak, but he is the father of my daughter, and I cannot disadvantage her by leaving him. You understand, don't you?"
She was offering him everything save marriage, wasn't she? Cora wanted him. He could see that in her eyes, could practically feel the desire radiating off of her as she moved closer and closer, her lips almost touching his. Part of Rumplestiltskin, the foolish spinner who had once dreamt dreams of honor and glory, was repulsed by the very idea. But the rest of him cackled at the thought of cuckolding a prince, of loving a princess-by-marriage and having the kind of dark partner who would revel in the curse with him. Cora would help shape her daughter to cast the curse so long as it gave her power, and they could have that. Together.
Take what you want. She wants it to. Don't hesitate now, Spinner! Zoso's encouragement was almost enough to push Rumplestiltskin into action; he could feel his body quivering with desire and anticipation. But, no. He would wait for Cora to make the first move. He had earned that.
Then she leaned forward to do exactly what he'd hoped and dreaded, lips brushing against his lightly and then more hungrily, and Rumplestiltskin could not help leaning into her kiss. He'd hated her so much, but he missed her, missed this one chance at love, the only one he had. Even with his mother there, he was so very alone, because he never could be certain when Morgan would decide he was just a beast and leave. Cora was as dark as he was, though, and—
Magic sizzled through his body, suddenly, and everything stopped.
Cora pulled back. "I'm sorry, Rumple, dear. Did you think I would risk people questioning Regina's legitimacy or that of any other children I might have, all for love?" She chuckled softly, stepping away from him. "But I did do my research, just as you taught me. Squid ink is remarkably useful, isn't it?"
"You—you—you!" He was so angry he could barely get words out.
You fool! The voices inside him shouted a raging chorus, each screaming for his attention. How could you be so stupid as to let her get so close? But he couldn't move. Not a muscle. Not even an inch. Magic wouldn't respond to his commands, either; nothing happened. He was an utter fool.
"Love is never enough." Cora shrugged, tucking away the handkerchief with which she had lightly touched his hand. "But, as you've blocked my traditional avenues to power by protecting the lives of King Xavier and Henry's annoying brothers, I shall have to reach for a different kind of power. Yours."
"…What?"
He asked the question, but his heart had already stopped. Rumplestiltskin knew exactly what Cora wanted. She didn't want him at all. Maybe she never had. I did do my research, she'd said. And he'd told her too much, back in the months where he'd loved her and trusted her. Cora knew. And the darkness inside him was screaming as furiously as Rumplestiltskin wanted to, howling in rage and terror, knowing it was about to be trapped and used.
"I know your dagger is here." Cora met his eyes levelly, her face devoid of all emotion save satisfaction. "And when I find it, I have all the power I could ever possibly want—and you on your knees before me."
A/N: Sorry for the delay in this update—I've been sick and had family issues that kept me from writing. Stay tuned for Chapter 4—"Betrayal Most Foul", and in the meantime, please do let me know what you think!