A/N: It took me a long time to write up (more than a month now) but I'm glad I finally got to update this story. Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. Many thanks to those that have read and reviewed this story; I appreciate the support and kind words.
Enjoy!
Sometimes magic could be more of a burden than a blessing. Anyone that never meddled with it, those unintelligible, ordinary people, assumed it was easy to handle. A heavenly gift, a miracle, the answer to all their prayers. How wrong they were.
The first dance with magic was often clumsy, like putting on a performance without being taught the proper steps beforehand. That first dance was overwhelming and all-consuming, filling a person to the brim with such unimaginable power that they were doomed to fire off like a rocket. Senses were extremely heightened, insecurities were traded for arrogance, and every shot of that power came with a price.
Even when he became the Dark One, he was enraptured by his rage and used that magic as an excuse to go on a killing spree in front of his boy. Unless there was an experienced tutor nearby, someone that was familiar with the dance, that magic was bound to spiral out of control. At least until the magic user figured out how to wield it properly. By that time, the price might be too great.
That was precisely what Isabelle needed. A tutor. Someone experienced with magic enough to train her in magic.
Of course he was the most obvious choice, being her father and the Dark One for centuries. The only problem was that he had doubts of how well he could show her the ropes. He was afraid that he would be too emotionally invested to do right by his daughter when it came to magic. He was also afraid of corrupting her sweet, innocent mind with his nasty habits. Everyone he ever teached in the ways of magic had become corrupted by it, sometimes by his deliberate manipulation, but also because his darkness rubbed off on them.
He couldn't do that to Isabelle. If she turned out to be anything like him, dark and unwilling to play by the rules, he would never forgive himself.
Ever since his first taste of magic, he found it increasingly difficult to let it go. He did things he was not proud of in restrospect and he abided by the wrong notion that the ends justified the means. If he was being honest with himself, part of him used the threat of Zelena as an excuse to regain his magic. He got to protect his family and he had his old magic pumping through his veins again. It was a win-win situation, selfish as it was.
So many nasty habits. And Isabelle was so impressionable.
If someone instructed his child in magic, he would supervise everything, but he would not pass down his nasty habits. He wanted his daughter to be able to tell right from wrong, to control her powers and not be entirely enslaved or dependent on them.
Fortunately, and after a great deal of speculating, he had a candidate in mind for Isabelle's teacher. It would take a little encouragement on his part, though. A gift of some sort to appease her.
The minute he thought of it and explored every detail, he tossed back the covers and slid out of bed. He intended to get this over with and hopefully secure a promising instructor for Isabelle before she got any more powerful at such a young age. This one should do nicely. After all, she was blessed-or cursed, depending on the perspective-with the same affinity as Isabelle. And even though she could be...cold, she wasn't altogether evil or unreasonable like some of his other pupils.
"Where are you going?" Emma's sleepy voice rose from the bed, muffled only by her pillow, her face pressed into it. Her arm instinctively scraped the mattress where he had lain, but reeled back when she could not find him.
He finished buttoning his shirt and shifted back around to watch her wake. Her golden head rolled across the pillow, tangled curls shielding her face like a veil. Her green eyes emerged from beneath that veil and glowed in the darkness. Her lips pursed with an unspoken accusation.
He winced. It was impossible for him to lie to her again. Not only had he hesitated already, but he truly did not favor lying to his wife. It left a sour taste on the roof of his mouth to even consider it.
"Don't worry," he soothed her. Reaching over, he brushed back her tangled hair from her cheek, which was imprinted with the crease of the pillow. It did little to comfort her, those fiery eyes already narrowing. "I...I am going to the vault of the Dark One. Again."
Emma sat upright in bed, forcing his hand to fall away from her cheek. She was wide awake now and pondering. People claimed thinking was a dangerous habit for him, but they hardly knew Emma like he knew her. Thinking was even more dangerous when it came to her because once she sank her teeth into something, she never let go until she discovered the truth.
"Why?"
"I may have something that will help Isabelle control her powers. Or should I say, someone," he hinted. He pulled on his boots and laced them up. Emma was quiet behind him. He could only assume that she was thinking hard again. Saying what was on her mind was as simple for her as it was for him, even with his skill in spinning words.
"You've had a solution this whole time and you're just now bringing it up? Well, what is it?" His gut tightened. Being honest with his wife was easier said than done, especially since she didn't know about all of his wrongdoings and mistakes. Some things were better left to rot in the past.
Until the day came when they returned to bite him.
"For the record, it only occurred to me tonight. It's been a long time since I've given this particular treasure any thought," he corrected. Centuries, even. "Her name is Elsa. She has powers like Isabelle, but even she does not have as much control over them as she would prefer. I'm planning to use her to get close to an even more powerful snow queen. One that does know how to control her powers and can possibly teach Isabelle her tricks."
He finished lacing up his boots-they took so much time to tie up-and stood. As he donned his best cloak, he heard Emma get out of bed in pursuit. Oh, no. This wasn't part of the plan.
"You're going to trade her to some Ice Queen-"
"Snow Queen," he chimed in.
"Same difference," she snapped. He hid his smirk from view as he checked out his reflection in the mirror. Sometimes Emma could really sum things up in the simplest manner. "You're going to use this Elsa person as a bargaining chip to gain this Snow Queen's trust? Will she be hurt?"
Without even glancing at his wife's reflection in the mirror, he knew she would be upset and defensive. He detected that familiar proud note of heroism in her voice. She would even fight against him if she thought she was doing the right thing. Turning around, he wrapped an arm around her body and kissed her cheek.
"No," he answered in her ear. "This Snow Queen has wanted Elsa to be her "sister" for years on end. You see, she has a bit of a...uh, 'family problem,'" he said, all the while hooking his fingers into air-quotes. Emma snorted. Family issues were common excuses for being evil these days. "Ever since her sister proved to fear her magic, Ingrid despised all non-magical beings. She wished to create a new family of her own, to find others with misunderstood powers and make them her sisters. It was the only way she believed she could be loved for who she truly was."
"And you're going to let a mad, outcast dictator-waiting-to-happen train our daughter in how to wield her powers? Yeah, sounds like a great idea. Sign me up," she replied sarcastically. Ingrid's madness and her capabilities as a dictator were up for debate, but he waved his hands impatiently rather than argue.
"Point is: she will not hurt Elsa, and I might be able to convince her to work with us. Family is a powerful motivator." He knew that better than anyone. Everything he had done, he did for his loved ones. Bae, Belle, Emma, Henry, his daughters...
"Alright, then let's go deal with this Snow Queen," Emma stated.
To his bewilderment, Emma snatched up her boots and sat on the edge of the bed to shove them on her feet. She didn't seem to care that she was only dressed in her usual sleep attire: panties and a thin-strapped white nightgown. Rumpel's mouth dropped open-and this time it was for a reason other than admiring his wife in such sheer clothing.
"Excuse me? Let's?" He blinked and tilted his head, his mouth bobbing like a fish's, but Emma continued to lace up her boots without hesitation.
"Yes, let's. I'm going with you." Once she was satisfied with her boots being half-laced, she grabbed her sword from the corner of the room. On any other occasion, the sight of Emma clad in a sheer nightgown and boldly brandishing a sword would have amused him. Now it froze his blood with fear.
He didn't trust Ingrid enough to be civil.
"No, you're not," he demanded. Emma's grip squeezed the sword's hilt all the harder, until her knuckles turned as white as that nightgown. Her jaw locked and her slitted green eyes issued a warning: do not stand in her way. "It's too dangerous," he weakly added.
"What do you think this is made of? Rubber and glue?" She swung the sword up and nearly chopped off his nose. Rumpel jumped back before it could swing anywhere else.
"Were you listening when I said she has powers like Isabelle's? She'll laugh at your sword, turn it into a rod of ice, and shatter it to pieces before you can ever use it against her. Or she'll turn you into a decorative ice statue. I prefer my wives warm and breathing, not an ice statue for the dinner table."
"I'm not exactly a novice when it comes to magic. I've been practicing. If she throws an icicle at my head, I'll set her hand on fire. If she sends some abominable snowman after me, I'll set him on fire. If she turns my sword to ice, I'll set it on fire and strike her with it-see the pattern here?"
Rumpel pinched the bridge of his nose. There was just no arguing with Emma. Of course that was a lesson in marriage he hadn't known since Milah: the wife was usually right. When she was determined to get something done, Emma would waste no time in worrying about the variables.
"Emma," he moaned tensely.
"Rumpelstiltskin," she responded, never missing a beat. She only ever used his full real name when she was deeply upset. It was a sign that he was treading on thin ice and she was bound to come out on top.
"I need you to stay here to protect the children!"
"They'll be fine for the night. How long are you expecting this mission to take? The wards are up. Bae is still here, right down the hall. Maybe Goldie will scare off any intruders. You know her bark is worse than her bite." He inhaled sharply. No other protests came to mind, so he released his breath. "Are you done making excuses? You promised that we would do this together."
He hated to admit when other people were right, but his shoulders slumped in defeat this time.
"You're right. I did make a promise and I intend to keep it, as I keep all the others I make. Fine, we'll do this together, but before we leave...might I suggest a wardrobe change? We want to make a good impression for the Snow Queen."
As much as he loved Emma, he didn't think she was very intimidating in that white nightgown. Sexy, yes. Intimidating...not so much.
"This is for my daughter. I don't really care if I approach the Snow Queen naked." Rumpel's eyes widened. While her courage was remarkable, he couldn't help but feel a pool of warmth spread through his body when he pictured Emma with not a stitch of clothing. Even now, that woman had the power to drive him mad with want. "What did you have in mind?"
Rumpel's eyes scrolled over her strong, lovely body. The nightgown left little to the imagination, especially since she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. He had trouble pushing away the image of her naked form.
"Um...I..." He stuttered. Shaking his head, he forced that image from his mind and snapped out of his stupor. He paced around Emma like a fashion designer working out her measurements. "Do you feel more pretty Princess Emma or don't-screw-with-me-I'm-a-badass Emma?"
"Badass," she decided without much thought on the matter. He got an idea of the type of impression she was hoping to make to the Snow Queen. There was also the truth that she was still uncomfortable in princess gowns despite her title of birth.
He liked the idea of Emma strutting about in leather more than modest silk.
With a snap of his fingers, her nightgown melted away into supple black and red leather. Tight, hot leather that sinfully hugged her curves in all the right places. It matched his own attire, he realized afterward. He licked his lips hungrily as he admired the result.
"So?" She turned around slowly, letting him see from all angles. Something in her smile suggested she was teasing him.
"Remarkably badass," he approved. The Snow Queen wouldn't know what hit her. At last, that sword in Emma's hand looked truly threatening and appropriate. "Now come here." He hooked a finger and made the come-hither gesture. Emma glided over to him and put an arm around his neck. The other hand grasped the sword. She kissed him hard on the mouth. He raised his hand to teleport them away-
"Wait," she suddenly hesitated, before he could use magic to transport them away from the Dark Castle. She pulled back. A worried frown hung on her lips. "There's something I need to do first. I want to say goodbye to our children."
...
It was always a bitter reminder that the girls slept in separate rooms. Their rooms were close, but even one wall seemed too much distance. Emma could only picture Isabelle filling up that blank space beside Mary as she peeked into the crib.
"Bye, baby," Emma whispered and gently stroked Mary's back. She bent down to press a kiss to her forehead, but Mary hardly stirred. Without the threat of intense cold, she slept much better through the night, only crying out for a diaper change or feedings. "You'll be with your sister again soon."
She hoped. Who knew how long it would take to teach Isabelle how to control her powers? She would have to grow older and gain an understanding of how to wield her powers, which meant years instead of mere months. After all, Isabelle was still an infant. Emma's greatest fear, after spending her entire childhood alone, was that her children would drift apart.
"Goodbye, Sunshine," Rumpel said and mimicked her gesture of kissing their daughter's head. Only his lips stayed there a few seconds longer, as if he did not want to say goodbye yet. "I shall make everything right," he promised.
Emma glimpsed a fearsome determination in his dark eyes-nothing would stop him when it came to protecting his family. She put her hand on his shoulder, to prove he had her full support. Mary slept on, so they crept out of the room, leaving the door ajar so she would have the flickering light of the candles to comfort her.
Right next door was Isabelle's room. There was a faint covering of snow on the floor, a few sprinkles that easily melted away, but Isabelle didn't seem to mind it. She slept on soundly, her thumb stuck in her mouth. Emma wondered if Isabelle could give herself frostbite of the finger. Probably not.
Carefully, so as not to disturb her, she scooped her daughter into her arms. As usual, Isabelle's skin was a few degrees cooler than it should have been.
"Sleep tight, Snowflake," Emma said and kissed the top of Isabelle's head. The coolness of it almost made her shiver. As though her child was a living ball of ice. "Don't cause any blizzards while we're gone."
It was in her nature to use her sarcasm for good and try to make light of the situation, but Rumpel's expression held no humor. Instead, he appeared very grim. His lips were scrunched in a tight line, his eyebrows pulled together, and he fidgeted nervously. Emma held out their daughter and he hesitantly took her in his arms to wish her goodbye. She thought she saw a tear shining in the corner of his eye.
Her husband could be so dramatic sometimes.
"Goodbye, my little one. We will be back, I promise. With it, there shall be hope for you. You deserve so much better than to be controlled by your own magic. It's a frightening thing, when you become so consumed by your power that you forget who you are. You know nothing else except the thrill of it racing through your blood. I will not see you suffer my miserable fate."
Emma balanced her chin on her husband's shoulder as he admired their little ice princess. For so long, he had been a slave to his power, unable to grasp full control over it. She knew he deeply regretted things he had done by using magic as an excuse.
"Maybe you weren't a good man back then, but you've come a long way," she reassured him, rubbing the stress from his shoulder. As long as he had something to fight for, she liked to think he wouldn't give himself completely over to the darkness.
"I hope so," he agreed. Turning his head, he devoted his gaze to his wife now. Their lips hovered an inch apart when he spoke again, his breath tickling the tip of her nose. "I've learned there are more important things than magic. From now on, my family shall come first."
To seal the promise, he kissed Emma's lips.
Once more, he laid Isabelle in the crib that she no longer shared with Mary. For a tense moment, she wriggled in her sleep and whimpered. Rumpel and Emma held their breath, wondering if she would awake and unleash a snowstorm if she cried. Then Isabelle's breathing deepened again and she slept on. They released the breaths they were holding.
They needed to find a solution to this problem-soon. Tonight.
After closing Isabelle's door, Emma marched down the hall to Henry's bedroom. Rumpel lingered by Isabelle's room for an extra moment before following behind. When he stepped into Henry's bedroom, Emma was already sitting on the edge of his bed, brushing back his hair. Of course, Henry was a much lighter sleeper than their daughters, so he awoke suddenly from Emma's touch.
"What's going on?" Henry blinked his eyes sleepily and stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. Then he sat upright in bed, alert and in a panic. "Is there another attack? Is everyone alright?" He reached out for the wooden sword next to his bed, but Emma guided him back down by the shoulders.
"It's alright," she said, though she glanced uncertainly up at Rumpel. "We're taking a short trip tonight. We may have a way to help Isabelle with her magic." That only made Henry more urgent to rise from the bed. Goldie, who was previously curled at the end of Henry's bed, now sat up attentively.
"Let me go with you," he pleaded. Once again he reached for the sword and once again Emma coaxed him back down on the pillow. Henry pouted over his mother's stubborn rejection.
"No, Henry, it's too dangerous," she insisted. "It's the middle of the night and what we have to do to help Isabelle..." Another timid glance at her husband. "I don't want you involved in it. It's better if you stay here and sleep."
"But-" Henry protested again.
"Your mother's right, I'm afraid," Rumpel said, much to Henry's dismay. Moving past Emma, a silent shadow, he picked up the wooden sword and, to Henry's amazement, laid it on his pillow. "One day, you will be a fantastic knight, honorable and courageous. However, for now leave those dreams precisely as they are-dreams. You'll have plenty of time to have adventures. For my sake, and your mother's, you should be here, where you're safest."
Reluctantly, Henry settled back under the covers and stroked the wooden sword. He did not enjoy being kept out of the "fun" of the adventure, but he seemed to realize that they were right.
"Okay," he mumbled and stifled another yawn. It proved to be too strong and prevailed, his mouth gaping and his eyelids fluttering. Sleep started to tempt him back into its embrace. "Hurry back." And his head lolled on the pillow.
Emma brushed his hair off his forehead one last time. The last words he heard, before his breaths finally deepened, were Emma's: "You've always been the brave and hopeful one. I'm proud of you." Unfortunately, Goldie was not ready to return to sleep yet and followed them out of Henry's room. Rumpel spun on his heel and snapped his fingers.
"Ah, ah, ah! Back in there with Henry," he ordered. Goldie barked. "Don't talk back to your papa. I don't care if you're married to Pongo or not-it's still your duty to guard these children. Henry's room-now!" He snapped his fingers again and, with a swish of her tail, Goldie padded back to Henry's bed.
...
At last, they visited Bae's bedroom, though they were much quieter when they crept inside. After all, Bae was currently sharing a bed with Ariel. It would be awkward if he awoke to the sound of them infiltrating his room, even to say goodbye before their late-night journey. As Rumpel studied his son, lying on his stomach in that bed, he could only be reminded of how much Bae had grown, and how much he had missed.
Emma scribbled a note to Bae, explaining where they were going and why, and left it on his bedside table. Then she opted to wait out in the hall and give Rumpel a moment alone. It was strange being in Bae's room when he was sleeping in Ariel's arms. Being married to Rumpel, she had no romantic feelings left for Bae, but still she occasionally felt the tension between them. Like she didn't belong there.
"I'll wait outside," she whispered to her husband. Without taking his eyes off his son, he nodded and their hands drifted apart. When the door clicked, he knelt by Bae's bedside and kissed his forehead. The gesture made Bae's hand rise to swat away Rumpel's lips too early before he rolled over in bed.
"Bae," Rumpel whispered once his son started to snooze deeply again. "Emma and I...may have a way of helping Isabelle with her magic. We're not going to rid her of it because we love her for who she is. I only hope you can understand that. We're going to find someone that can teach her how to control her powers from an early age, to embrace them rather than fear them. I wish...I wish someone had been there to teach me how to wield my magic. Maybe then I would not have been so tempted by it, so dependent on it, and made so many mistakes. Magic is always tricky business. I know you were disappointed in me for reclaiming my magic, but it will be different this time around. My family is the most important thing I have now."
His hand hovered over Bae's hand on the sheet, his mind debating whether to take it. At the last second, he decided he did not want to risk waking Bae and reeled back. He rose to his feet and quietly left Bae's room and joined Emma in the entrance hall, so they could abscond into the night.
Rumpel hadn't even noticed the way Bae's hand twitched on the sheet before he was gone.
...
When Rumpel and Emma materialized outside the vault of the Dark Ones, the temperature drastically dropped thirty degrees. It was a frozen wasteland. Snowflakes drifted down and dusted their hair. Emma tucked her body closer to his and started to shiver. Maybe heavy furs would have suited her more than skin-tight leather.
"It's freezing out here! You couldn't have given me a warning?" Turning away, she did a funny little dance in the snow and rubbed her arms rapidly even though they were clad in leather sleeves. Her teeth chattered behind her lips. Now she was just being dramatic. Trying to make him feel worse.
"Whoopsee. This is another reason why I didn't think you should come dressed in that nightgown. I would have had to smother you to keep you warm." As a matter of fact, the idea of Emma in a slinky nightgown, curling up against him to conserve body heat was not unappealing in the slightest.
Perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut about the wardrobe change.
"Another reason? Remind me what your first reason was?"
"You weren't intimidating enough," he said, as though it were plainly obvious. Just as he expected, Emma's annoyance trumped the fierce cold. To prove her strength, she quit rubbing her arms and stood tall with that sword by her hip.
"Even with the sword?" Emma extended it in front of her and the blade shined. The snowflakes that fell on it glowed like miniature diamonds before melting away. He tented his fingers under his chin. How could he break this to her lightly? In a way that wouldn't directly earn him a punch in the face?
"I know you enjoy being the tough, independent hero, Emma, but you brandishing a sword dressed in a nightie is about as intimidating as Bo Peep being a vicious warlord."
To his relief, Emma chuckled at that. Most likely because it was ridiculous. He didn't bother to mention that Bo Peep really was something of a warlord in this world. She even rounded up her sheep and hassled Charming while he was still a shepherd.
How an old hag with a herd of sheep and a carriage decorated with wildflowers proved to be intimidating was beyond him. If it were him on the end of her staff, he'd turn her into a lamp and be done with it. Problem solved.
Together he and Emma approached the slab protruding from the ground. He knelt and brushed the fresh snow away. He never felt comfortable using this vault. Not only were the objects inside beyond his comprehension, but he always got the disturbing feeling of never being able to escape once he was inside. It was too much like a prison, specially crafted for his kind of evil.
"Stay here. I'll only be a moment," he told Emma. She didn't like it. Just as he was about to press his hand down on the stone and seal his fate, she latched onto his arm. It was by his quick reflexes alone that he reeled his hand back and scrambled away from the vault.
"Emma!"
"Rumpelstiltskin," she snapped back in a heartbeat. She swung that sword in her hand and arched an eyebrow, daring him to argue. He curled his fists and grunted in frustration. "You are not leaving me out here to wait. First of all, it's freezing."
He conjured a roaring fire next to the vault. The eerie flicker of the flames chased away the shadows and made them dance hypnotically over the snow. At least it would keep her warm until he returned.
"There. Any other complaints?" He asked, edging his way toward the vault again. Emma stayed right on his heels.
"Just one. What if something happens to you in there? Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you say it was dangerous?" There was no mistaking the concern in her voice.
Rumpel glanced back at the vault, then his wife, indecisive of his next move. It was true that there were many mysterious magical artifacts in the vault. One wrong tap and the vault could very well self-destruct with tremendous power or a formidable enemy might be released.
How long would Emma wait before she realized something was wrong? It was a tough call, but he made it fast.
"If I don't return in fifteen minutes, then feel free to come after me. I won't bother to ask you to flee to the safety of our home because you haven't mastered the art of transporting. You wouldn't listen to the advice, anyway."
"You're right. I wouldn't," she said. That was the heroic side of her. Never leave someone behind so long as there was something she could do to help them, however small the chance. Once upon a time, she even put aside her animosity with Regina to rescue her from a fire that he purposely set. "And for your information, I'm improving when it comes to transporting. I told you I've been practicing. I stopped landing on the roof."
Rumpel snickered softly as he recalled the first incident of Emma transporting with magic. All Emma wanted to do was try something new, to expand her powers, and transport to their bedroom instead of climbing the stairs one night. She had landed on the roof with no safe way down. He made the mistake of joking that she should let down that mane of hair for him to climb and he slept in the guest bedroom.
In the end, he had to build a pile of snow for her to leap into. Apparently, it worked better in "Assassin's Creed." Afterwards, Emma had suffered a bruised hip, a broken leg, a broken arm, and dizziness. He had managed to use his own magic to heal her injuries, but she still spent the rest of the day in bed, moaning until every ounce of pain faded.
"Be thankful you don't leave any body parts behind," he teased. It was like a game of got-your-nose except the nose really came off. Emma was not laughing with him. "You should know...to get into the vault, you press your hand there. It's easier when the guest possesses magic of their own. It only works if you have a strong connection with the Dark One you're channeling."
"Guess it's lucky you're my husband then," she said. Rumpel couldn't resist pulling her close and capturing her lips.
"Fifteen minutes," he reminded her. Kneeling down next to that slab of stone, he scraped away more of the ice before placing his palm flat upon it. A swirl of dark magic bound his wrists and he was sucked inside. Emma was left to eye the vault distrustfully and pace restlessly in front of it.
"The least he could have done was left me some marshmallows," she grumbled.
...
It had been a long time since he last stepped foot inside that vault. As a matter of fact, the last time had been the night he stashed the urn containing Elsa. Ingrid had spent the years searching the world over for her, but had never been able to find the vault.
Even if she had, she never would have gotten inside. Not unless he willed it. Anyone that tried to force their way inside ended up trapped or dead. It was the least the Dark Ones could do to protect the vault when so little else in the world, including their humanity, remained sacred to them.
To think he was about to hand over Elsa's urn without a struggle.
It was for his daughter.
The vault seemed like it was miles below the earth. When he tilted his head back, he couldn't even see the top. It was shrouded in darkness. Centuries of powerful, magical treasures were stored inside, everywhere he looked.
Now if only he could remember which urn was the right one. He couldn't remember there being so many when he casually dropped it off years ago. If he opened the wrong one, bad things could happen. Who knew what could come spiraling out?
Let's see...where would I have put the urn? Right in the middle where I would remember it. Right?
He would find out soon enough.
Wriggling his fingers, he eagerly stepped closer to the table in the very center, where one urn rested. It certainly reminded him of Elsa's urn, but his memory of that time was hazy with age. Articulate as he often was, it was a shame that he couldn't remember everything. Ever so carefully, he picked it up, handling it delicately like a piece of dynamite. He considered himself lucky that the urn hadn't exploded with magic yet.
"It's like falling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland."
The voice arose so suddenly behind him and so alarmingly loud that he fumbled with the urn. One minute it was safe in his hands, the next he clumsily dropped it and it flew through the air. His eyes locked onto it and he lunged. Thankfully he caught it before it hit the ground and shattered, even if it cost him a bruised funny bone.
What would happen to Elsa if it broke open? She would be released. At best, they would have a very angry ice princess on their hands.
Rumpel let out a heavy sigh and tucked the urn in his arms as he regained his footing. Emma stood off to the side, looking only a little apologetic.
"Sorry," she mumbled. "Didn't mean to scare you." He would have protested that he had not been scared, but his awkward dance with the urn had proven otherwise. At least he wasn't a screamer. No, he was more of the blast-you-with-a-ball-of-fire kind of guy.
"Has it been fifteen minutes?" If so, then time certainly flew by quickly in the Dark One vault-and not because he was having fun. The vault did mysterious things to his memory and sense of time, like being stuck in a daydream.
"No," Emma admitted.
"Then why are you here?" He knew she wouldn't listen to him in the long run. Either Emma was too impatient or she was more inclined to help. It wasn't entirely impulsive. She knew what she was doing when she jumped into the fire. She was bold and happy to be so.
"I got tired of waiting." She wandered further into the vault, her eyes roaming everywhere. Precisely what he thought. Her gaze traveled from the cracked, gray floor to the cluttered artifacts to the breathing shadows above. It was like being in a forgotten museum, with plenty of fascinating objects and no velvet ropes to block Emma's way. "There are a ton of strange things in this place. Dusty, too."
She coughed as a flume of dust swept up from the floor. Her finger poked another vase, but he hurried over and caught her hand before she could topple it.
"Emma, what did I say about waiting outside? It's dangerous in here. Even I cannot comprehend the power of these magical objects. Weapons that have been here for centuries and centuries of Dark Ones. I'm not willing to see what they do at the cost of my wife."
She wiggled her hand free from his grasp. Now she looked more than annoyed, a deep crease marring her forehead.
"I was only curious and I ended up getting bored counting the snowflakes. So sue me. Besides, I figured you might need my help in finding...that?" She pointed to the urn. Fresh confusion shone on her face, as well as a touch of disappointment. "I thought you said we were looking for a woman, not a vase. Here I imagined you had some damsel in distress locked away down here."
When Emma attempted to take the urn, he swiveled away on his heels. He wasn't ready for a repeat of accidentally dropping the urn.
"This is a vault, not a dungeon. Remember the last woman I kept imprisoned in my castle I fell in love with. It wasn't a pattern I wished to continue. And I did find Elsa. I just neglected to mention that she was cozily trapped in an urn."
He rapped his knuckles on the side of the urn. Could Elsa hear him in there? Emma looked uncomfortable.
"She's in there? Like some kind of genie in a lamp? Can she breathe?" Emma studied the urn with wonder and worry. Being the savior that broke Regina's curse, he thought, you'd think she would be used to fantastical details by now. Instead, Emma gawked at the urn like it was something in a science lab.
"Well, I've never personally trapped myself inside to find out. I suppose she's hanging in the balance, floating in a deep, dark slumber, completely unaware of the world outside. She'll be fine. Now, let's leave before I start reverting to my old impish ways. This place does funny things to my head."
In any case, they had a Snow Queen to track down. The thought of finally subduing her and winning her over to his side made him giddy, as he often got when it looked like the pieces would fall in his favor on the chessboard. Before he could stop it, one of those eerie, shrill giggles popped out of his mouth. In that endless vault, the sound bounced off the walls and multiplied, a haunting chorus of impish cackles. It was the most frightening sound he ever heard, even if it came from his own mouth.
"Rumpelstiltskin," Emma said, her cheeks as pale as her mother's. "I love you, but do not ever make that sound again."
...
It was surprisingly easy to find the Snow Queen, even after all these years. There weren't many places she would choose to hide herself away, so of course she resided rather unhappily in the only home she ever knew: Arendelle.
The entire kingdom had been frozen over by Ingrid's hand. The gates were shut tight by ice, every surface gleamed with crystal snowflakes, the towers had been transformed into great ice pillars stretching to the gray sky above. One could ice skate across the courtyard, build a snowman on the balconies, catch endless snowflakes until their tongue went numb from exposure to the chill in the air. The cold never bothered Ingrid due to her affinity for it, as it never bothered Elsa or even baby Isabelle. So she paced throughout that wintry kingdom, mocking the people she had turned to ice statues and mourning the loss of her so-called "sister."
It seemed most villains in these realms were not uncommon in their motives: each searched tirelessly for a place they truly belonged and their troubles often stemmed from family issues. Their goal was the same as the heroes-finding their happy ending-except their means were different. He saw that all too clearly now.
When they materialized in the middle of the courtyard, on top of a spurt of water that had frozen inside a fountain, Emma cursed under her breath. She surveyed the wasteland of a kingdom in front of her with disdain.
"I'm going to assume that turning into a full-grown ice statue means you die instantly," she said, anger shaking in her voice. There were too many ice statues in that courtyard.
"Another lesson in magic for you," he reproved, sliding his way down the spout of ice. It wasn't easy-going and he rubbed his rear end to shake off the cold. "Never assume anything. It keeps you closed-minded. Would you like a hand? It's slippery."
He turned to help her down, but she had already slid into place beside him.
"I've got it," she said, chin up. That was his Emma, never willing to accept help unless it was her last option. It was an arrogance and strength he admired, a simple part of her he loved like all the rest.
Together they crossed the ice to the edge of the fountain. As they walked, the ice cracked beneath their feet and water dribbled from below. The ground of the courtyard was no better, slick and shiny, keeping them wobbling on their legs like overgrown penguins. The interior of the castle offered no warmth or protection from the cold. Every wall was decorated with overlapping spirals of frost, every doorknob shattered in their hands like glass, and their breath fogged the air. Even when they lit the lanterns in the hallway, it did very little to chase away the cold or melt the ice. Only Ingrid could do that, if she wished it.
"She isn't winning too many points with me already," Emma grumbled. That sword was looking awfully comfortable in her hand.
"Patience, dear," Rumpel advised with a gentle sweep of his hand. "As long as we have Elsa here, she'll be willing to make a deal. She is a powerful, magical being in a world that has long since viewed her as a monster. All she wants is family again. Someone who can understand her, accept her, and forgive her mistakes."
Emma gave him a strange sideways glance.
"Sounds like you sympathize with her." Rumpel paused and cupped her chin.
"Now, now...don't be jealous. Ingrid means nothing to me and I couldn't care less about her motivations. It's strategy. To overcome your enemies, you must first be able to understand them. Otherwise, there is no hope of conquering them."
Emma shifted her head away from his touch and grumbled on as she continued down the hall. She slipped and skidded through the castle. He could not help but smirk. His wife was so attractive when she was jealous. It sparked that incredible fire that dwelled deep within her.
"Where is she? I didn't come prepared for ice-skating," Emma said and clung to the railing of the stairs to catch her fall. Climbing them was not simple.
"Perhaps she's wary of us," Rumpel speculated. He cocked his ear to listen, but all he heard was the howl of the wind. It was far too quiet in that castle. "Remember, she's distrustful of strangers. She's afraid they'll be quick to judge her as a monster. As for me, sadly we did not part on good terms."
Most people didn't, for one reason or another. Only a select few saw something redeemable in him.
"Guess we'll have to draw her out. Hey, Dairy Queen!" Emma pointed the sword to the center of the room and she struck the ice, but it never even bore a scratch. The blade heated until it grew red and a tongue of flame spiraled over the steel. That flame shot across the floor and spread widely, miraculously melting a patch of ice.
"Impressive," a calm voice came from the top of the staircase. They turned to meet the cool blue eyes of Ingrid, clad in a sparkling white gown to match the drapes plastered to the windows. Slowly she descended the stairs, all the while studying Emma curiously. "You possess tremendous power, enough to undo what I have done in this castle. It's almost...frightening. You would make a perfect addition to my family."
Rumpel stepped closer to his wife and wrapped a protective arm around her waist.
"Except for the fact that, unlike you, Emma has a family that already loves and respects her for who she is. She is not treated like a monster, nor will she ever seek to abandon her loved ones to run off and brew potions with you," he retorted. It was purely for Emma's sake. The Snow Queen could be quite persuasive. If Emma ever started to doubt her value in her family, though highly unlikely, he was afraid to lose her. "But enough with small talk. We're going to make you an offer you can't refuse."
Rumpel started to chuckle to himself. He bet Ingrid had no idea where that famous line came from. It was only thanks to Regina's curse and his false memories that he knew it at all.
"You're not going to formally introduce us?" The Snow Queen gave Emma a smile, but it lacked real warmth. Emma held her sword tighter, just in case.
"Emma, Ingrid. Ingrid, Emma-my wife-the mother of my children-the savior-keep your hands off-she's mine." Emma nudged him sharply in the ribs for his show of possessiveness. He couldn't help it. Once someone threatened his loved ones, he tended to be defensive.
"Well, that is certainly a mouthful. I hope you don't mind if I shorten it to Emma," Ingrid replied, folding her hands in front of her. If it a joke, Ingrid did not laugh. There were hardly any laugh lines on her face at all. Her voice was forever calm and he could only imagine powder-soft snow drifting on the wind when she spoke. "Is the sword necessary? Or is that insurance if this deal does not end smoothly?"
Rumpel gave his wife a pointed look. For now, they had to play nice. Reluctantly, Emma dropped the sword next to her feet. In any instant, she could swoop to reclaim it. Then he presented the urn that contained Elsa.
"Look what I've got," he sang and waved the urn back and forth in his hands. He was careful enough not to drop it. The minute Ingrid laid her eyes on it, a small change came over her face. It was nearly undetectable, but her eyebrows knitted together, her lips pursed, and at last there was the slightest hint of desperation in her eyes.
"It's about time. I figured you would come to your senses one day, Rumpelstiltskin. You should know, I no longer possess the hat. The owner put up an exhausting fight to get it back."
Rumpel was briefly irked by that news. It was a precious yet powerful object, after all. Unlike any artifact he had come across before. The imp of old craved that extraordinary power, but he was wiser now. He deliberately turned his nose up.
"Doesn't matter. Let him keep his silly hat. My interests have altered. I have no need of being all-powerful and limitless, not when I have seen what it can do to me or my family."
For the first time, Ingrid looked genuinely surprised.
"I'm sorry," Emma interrupted, shooting her hand into the air like a student to be called upon. "What hat?"
Rumpel chewed on his tongue, wondering how best to explain it without coming off as selfish or monstrous for having once considered it. That was a different man back then. One that sought to be free of his dagger by transcending its boundaries instead of giving in to true love.
"You would best recognize it as Mickey's hat from Fantasia. You know, that charming little sequence entitled The Sorcerer's Apprentice," he clarified. Emma had that look again-that baffled look that questioned his sanity whenever he mentioned something peculiar or magical. "It was a supremely powerful object, not unlike a weapon. It was meant to strip the magic from witches and wizards alike. Once enough of that magic was collected inside the hat, it was believed it could be so powerful as to do the impossible, to cleave a Dark One from his dagger. The result of that would be an all-powerful dark sorcerer that could never be controlled."
Rumpel's voice dipped low and he wiggled his fingers for eerie emphasis. Emma wasn't put off by it. If anything, she scratched her head.
"Yeah, you lost me at Mickey's hat from Fantasia. I'm currently picturing you wearing it on your head," she admitted with a humorous twist of her lips. Rumpel stiffened in his embarrassment. Ingrid rolled her eyes haughtily.
"I take it you haven't lived with magic for very long. Shame. So much potential going to waste," she berated. For that, Emma's fingers twitched above her sword, itching to grab it. She was more inclined to reach for a sword than throw a magic fireball. "As for you," Ingrid continued, her frigid stare switching to Rumpel. "Wow. You really have changed, haven't you? The Rumpelstiltskin I knew did not need to explain his motives, especially his top-secret weapons. The Rumpelstiltskin I knew took exactly what he wanted first, played his cards close to his chest, and would have been gleeful to possess all the power he could ever dream of. What happened to that sad little imp?"
"Sorry to disappoint," he remarked. "You'll find that I'm not that greedy, desperate man anymore. The only power I need is the power to protect my family. Any more than that is unnecessary and destructive. While tempting, I know in my heart it will cost me my loved ones. That is a price I am not willing to pay. I've sworn never to let my power consume me that way again."
Gently he took ahold of his wife's hand and brought it to his lips. A promise he would, hopefully, never break.
"Aww, how sweet," Ingrid said flatly. Her lips were drawn into a rigid line, like an ice fissure, and her blue eyes froze over by two degrees more.
Clearly, she had no appreciation for the love that others shared because she was exempt from it. Rumpel had to wonder if she even forgot how it felt to be truly loved. There was a time where he, too, was convinced that his heart stopped working properly. Thankfully, that was not true.
"You're just jealous you don't have a man like me to warm your bed in this cold, cold castle," he shot back. Emma's hand slipped from his and he heard a short intake of breath. She didn't like that sort of taunt. Ingrid's head flew back as if she'd been physically slapped.
"Don't flatter yourself. The only way I would allow a man-no, a monster-like you into my bed is if I were blind, deaf, or otherwise incapacitated," she gasped. She had a horrified look on her face. Do you tell that to every man you meet, dearie? Are we the monsters? That's why you're alone. Beggars can't be choosers, believe me, he spited her in his head.
"You're awfully high and mighty for someone that rejects everyone that happens to be non-magical and froze an entire kingdom that no man can live in. You don't want to be judged as a monster; well, it goes both ways. Who do you plan to marry? Your reflection in the ice?" Rumpel smirked. I love my wife, I love my wife, I love my wife...
"Her sharp tongue is partly why I married her. Endless entertainment."
"Aside from the twelve beers," Emma added.
"It wasn't twelve beers or we wouldn't have been able to crawl out of Granny's. Besides, it was more the lust potion than the alcohol, if you remember." Not that he wanted to remind his wife how he once manipulated her so coldly into a marriage so that he could drive her to breaking the curse. The reminder of it now darkened her face.
"Charming," Ingrid said, waving her hand to regain their attention. "Back to business. If not the hat, then what is it you want from me?"
Rumpel's fingers drummed on the side of the urn, taunting Ingrid with what she could not have. With careful, precise steps, as though ready to take part in a dance, he stepped closer to the foot of the staircase and Ingrid.
"What I want, dearie, should be simple and yet it is of the utmost importance to me. I shall hand over Elsa if and only if...you agree to teach my daughter how to control her powers."
"You mean to tell me," Ingrid said, taking a step down, "that you reproduced? You speak so fondly of the love you have for your family, but you can't accept your daughter while she wields such extraordinary power. I must admit, I'm disappointed, Rumpelstiltskin. You're no better than the rest."
Rumpel ignored the first jab, but when it came to that bitter accusation, his graceful steps halted and his lip curled in fury.
"Correction: I am not demanding that you take away or deminish her powers. I love my daughter for who she is, as I do all my children. Yes, that's right: plural. What I'm requesting is that you teach her how to gain control over the power she already has, so that she may not harm herself or anyone around her if it spins out of control. She has powers like yours. Teach her how to harness it, not conceal it."
Ingrid considered this for a long time. Emma fidgeted impatiently, her tough expression daring Ingrid to object. Those frosty blue eyes drifted to the urn and Rumpel held it a little higher, tempting her. Take it, he pleaded her. Say yes to this deal, so that we can all live in peace.
"You say that Elsa is trapped inside that urn. Prove it," she challenged him, folding her hands firmly. Rumpel narrowed his eyes. Emma muttered a tired seriously under her breath. "Open it and show me. I am not making a deal for an empty urn."
"Don't you trust me?" He flashed one of his sly grins, but Ingrid didn't buy it. Technically, he was stalling and Emma noticed. She tugged on his arm, propelling him backward from the staircase.
"We need to talk," she hissed and led him to the other side of the room, away from Ingrid. The Snow Queen casually examined her pale nails as they conversed softly, their heads bent close. "Out of curiosity, you're just pushing Ingrid's buttons, right? Elsa is in that urn, isn't she?" Emma's eyes flickered to the urn in his hands.
"Would you really be disappointed if I said no, aside from convincing Ingrid to help Isabelle?" Uneasiness crossed his wife's face. "Last time I checked, Elsa was trapped in an urn."
"When was the last time you checked?"
"Hmm...the night I put her in the vault. Say...thirty years ago," he admitted. Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. "This might not be the time to mention this, but I'm not entirely certain I grabbed the right urn."
The color drained from Emma's face until she matched the frost-covered curtains. She looked like she could slap him silly.
"So there's a chance that Elsa isn't in there? You couldn't check while you were in your vault and then sucked her back in? Or reasoned with her to come with us quietly?" He sighed impatiently.
"Emma, it's not that simple. If Elsa wasn't in the urn, we'd be sitting in the vault sorting through urns until we found her. If Elsa was inside, you might have a snowman for your husband by now. She may have an affinity for ice, but she isn't always as calm as this one." He tilted his head to Ingrid, who still waited at the stairs.
"Guess there's only one way to find out, then," she said.
"Are you two finished chatting? It's nearly time for my nightly ice bath," Ingrid called out. Emma and Rumpel exchanged disgusted looks. One would think jumping naked into the snow would suffice, he thought.
"Prepare to be amazed," Rumpel drawled and set the urn halfway between him and Ingrid. Hopefully, he added silently.
"From what you just told me, she'll either be extremely happy or extremely angry," Emma mumbled in his ear. Strangely, Ingrid's happy face and angry face were almost identical.
Rumpel waved his hand over the urn and stepped back. The urn slowly began to rock, teetering back and forth. Circling, shaking, faster and faster until it toppled over on its side. An electrifying blue stream dripped from the urn. It pooled across the ice and seemed to consume it. It moved like it had a mind of its own, writhing and swirling, creating intricate patterns across the floor.
Then the most fascinating part came about. The bright blue liquid oozed together and something began to rise from the center of it. Slim, tall, with a round head; it resembled a cloaked figure. Two limbs split away from the top half of the figure-arms. The liquid hardened, sculpting the shoulders, hips, breasts, legs, and head. The hardened liquid transformed into stiff, ice blue fabric-a gown. A head of silky blonde hair, bound in a braid, wove along those shoulders. A nose, two ears, a pair of lips. At last, the blue shade paled into porcelain skin and two folds of skin lifted away to reveal glittering eyes the same peculiar hue as the blue liquid.
So this was Elsa, in the flesh.
For a moment, she was unnervingly still, a wax figure in the middle of the hall. Then Elsa sucked in a sharp breath, her chest heaved, and she came to life. Dazed and confused, she twirled around like one of those graceful ballerinas in jewelry boxes, taking in everything about the castle that was once her home. Even worse, she was frightened, surrounded by people she took for strangers or enemies or both.
"What is going on here? Who are you?" Elsa spun to glare suspciously at Rumpel and Emma. There wasn't the slightest bit of recognition in her face, but of course there wouldn't be. Rumpel had only made acquaintance with her sister, Anna, never the ice princess.
She drew her arms around her waist, as though to shield herself from them. When Rumpel took a single step forward, she raised her hand, prepared to defend herself with a flurry if he came any closer. Emma held her husband back by the shoulder, all the while studying Elsa just as curiously.
"Elsa," Ingrid gasped and rapidly descended the stairs, as if to greet a long-lost sister. For the first time since they invaded the castle, she looked pleased. Only Elsa did not reciprocate her warm greeting.
"Stay back," Elsa demanded. Ingrid stood on one side of her, Rumpel and Emma on the other. It was impossible for Elsa to focus on either side without feeling vulnerable so she stretched out both her arms, aiming for all three of them at once. "What have you done to Arendelle? What have you done to Anna?"
Ingrid was edgy, fighting the urge to take ahold of Elsa. Rumpel rolled his eyes.
"Elsa," Emma called softly. At the sound of her name, Elsa whipped her head around, her thick braid slashing through the air. She moved her hand and trained solely on Emma, distrustful. Emma held up her empty hands. "It's alright. We're not here to hurt you. I understand you're afraid and confused. Please, let us explain before you...turn us into human-sized Popsicles."
Elsa's brows furrowed.
"She doesn't know what those are," Rumpel whispered dramatically behind his hand. Elsa's furious blue eyes flickered to him. "Unfortunate, too. They're quite the delicacy."
At least Elsa started to lower her hand.
"Okay," Emma continued. "My name is Emma. We only came here, to your kingdom, to arrange a deal with the Snow Queen-"
"I know about the deal you wish to make," Elsa snapped and lifted her hand again, aiming at Emma's heart. "When I was trapped in that urn, it was silent for so very long. It felt like centuries had passed in that darkness. And then I heard something. Voices. Those voices spoke my name from somewhere beyond my prison. You plan to hand me over to Ingrid so you can fulfill your wishes. I am not an object to be traded away!"
Emma looked stricken and pale. The closer that Rumpel examined his wife, the more he could see how ashamed she was for treating Elsa with such little consideration. She had almost been selfish. Apparently he had rubbed off on her more than he thought. It cut deeply into his heart when Emma's guilty green eyes swiveled his way.
"No, you're not. You have a say in this matter," Emma insisted. From the sudden flare in Ingrid's eyes, they weren't agreeing unanimously on that sentiment. "Listen, I need help and I can help you in return. My daughter-I just gave birth to her and she has powers just like yours. She's an infant, which means her emotions are out of control. Her magic is out of control and she could hurt someone. We love her very much and we love the power she possesses, but we want to help her control it. We'll help you find your...um, Anna."
"Sister," Rumpel whispered again.
"No need," Ingrid spoke, full of cool poise. "Anna is here, in Arendelle. Granted, she is a bit colder than usual. After she trapped you in that urn, I was very upset about losing you. It was all Anna's fault, after all. So I expressed my despair in the only way I saw fit-by freezing this entire kingdom. Now they understand how cold my heart is."
"You're a monster," Elsa roared. "Ingrid, I demand you, as the rightful queen of Arendelle, to unfreeze my sister and this kingdom!"
"Ah, it seems another deal can be struck," Rumpel pointed out. "A deal within a deal-imagine that." Ingrid dipped her head appreciatively.
"Very well, Elsa," Ingrid said, shrugging one shoulder. "I shall return this kingdom and these people to their natural unfrozen state, but only if you agree...to accept me as part of your family."
"I was ready to do just that until you showed such opposition for Anna. She may not possess power like I do, but she is still my sister! She is the most considerate, gentle, and loving person I have left. Quite frankly, she is the only reason I've maintained any length of control over my powers. If you wish to take me into your family, then you must accept her, too."
"Ooh, another layer added to the deal. This is getting good," Rumpel said to Emma. She waved her hand to shush him, completely absorbed in the scene unfolding before them. Ingrid exhaled roughly through her nose. She took a moment to weigh her options.
"I suppose I can be forgiving. After all, this deal will satisfy everyone. Your precious kingdom will be returned to you along with your...sister. I can finally call you my family. And these two-" She flicked her wrist toward Rumpel and Emma. "These two will be granted my help in training their daughter. So, to steal your line, Rumpelstiltskin, do we have a deal?"
Rumpel made a low hmm in the back of his throat. Apparently he did not enjoy having his lines stolen.
"One more condition," Elsa bartered. "If I agree to this deal, I will be allowed to continue to rule over Arendelle. In return, I shall spend the summer with you, wherever you happen to be. That is the most I can grant you, after what you have done."
"Deal," Ingrid declared. Emma offered her husband one of her rare smiles. Everything had somehow worked out better than he expected. Rumpel had the audacity to wink at his wife, open his mouth wide, and announce:
"Shall we celebrate this family reunion? Party at my place."
...
