Chapter Ten—Rumplestiltskin vaguely remembered Belle helping him into bed some hours before, with her supporting his weight as he shook and staggered. His curse's attack had not lasted too long, but it had left him dizzy, weak, and as helpless as a small child. A thoroughly human body was not built to withstand the amount of magic which had whipped through him since the curse had broken, and he'd wound up puking all over the biting stairs—which made things worse by trying to eat his good leg. Mostly he just dry heaved, however, not having enough food in his stomach to actually vomit anything up.
The next two days wound up as a blur, with Belle spoon feeding him broth when she could manage to wake him up. The rest of the time he shook and slept. There was nothing actually wrong with him, but Rumplestiltskin's (again) human body had completely skipped the gradual adjustment to magic that every single human witch/wizard/sorcerer/etc. experienced. He'd gained power the fast and dirty way, experiencing none of the measured increase in power that everyone else did. Now that he was fully human again, the result was a complicated whiplash of human frailties, where his body did not know how to respond to the power rushing through it yet needed the same power. That made him sicker than any attack from his curse, particularly because he'd used so much magic to keep himself going after torture at Regina's hands.
On the third day, he managed to keep solid food down. Belle still refused to let him get out of bed, and against his better judgment, he ignored the one call tugging on a corner of his consciousness. Whoever it was hadn't spoken his name a second time, so Rumplestiltskin was able to convince himself that his would-be customer might not actually be desperate enough to bother with, anyway. He slept instead.
When the fourth day rolled around, Belle managed to convince him to stay in bed—just one more day, she argued, curling up next to him against the giant stack of pillows—and then the woman did something even worse. She got him talking.
"You were muttering about a curse in your sleep," Belle said quietly.
"Well, there is one doing its best impersonation of a thunderstorm up there," he pointed out, gesturing at the ceiling. Again, the dark clouds of his curse had escaped his grasp, but now they swirled more slowly. Whether it was cautious or patient, Rumplestiltskin thought that the curse had his measure now. He'd shared his soul with the damn thing long enough that it should have known how stubborn he could be, and he was fairly certain that it would not try to attack him again.
Not while he was strong, anyway. When he was weakened, the curse could smash through his defenses, but he could control it otherwise. He'd have to be even more careful than he'd initially thought—it wasn't like the Dark One's curse was inclined to keep deals it made—but Rumplestiltskin was fairly sure he could manage it. The laws of magic were on his side; there was a price to be paid for each act of magic, and he'd paid that price already for the bargain, which meant that magic itself would help hold the curse at bay, somewhat. He even knew a way to make the cloud go away, but he'd need to dig the dagger out of hiding for that and put a lot of work into it.
"You sounded like you meant another curse. One you made?" Belle guessed.
He opened his mouth to protest, and then snapped it shut. Though he dreamed rarely—nightmares were more likely, given the things he had done—sometimes bits and pieces of the future came to him whilst he slept. The future-tinged dreams were even more of an annoyance that the ability to see the future when he wanted to, of course; even seeing the shapes of the various puzzle pieces was difficult through the fog of sleep. Not for the first time, he wished he'd never taken that infernal power, but he was stuck with it now. Foretelling the future had nothing to do with his curse, and he couldn't very well invite someone else to rip it from him.
Something was waiting for discovery on the edge of his consciousness, but the harder he chased the thought (memory?), the more elusive it became. Rumplestiltskin scowled.
"There is another curse," he admitted slowly. Part of him didn't want to tell her about it, but Belle was stuck in this with him now, and she needed to be prepared. "The Curse to End All Curses."
"That sounds dramatic."
"It's the most powerful curse ever written. Powerful enough to tear everyone out of the Enchanted Forest and into the Land Without Magic. To tear away all happy endings, to freeze time itself."
Belle leaned away from him. "That's horrible."
"It's meant to be, dearie." He batted her objections aside by reflex, but found himself, for the first time, contemplating his life's work. The curse was dramatic. It was ambitious, drastic, and well, it should have been more than a little horrifying. But it was also necessary. There was no other way.
"Why?"
"What do you mean 'why'? I'm the—well, I was, anyway." Even Belle should expect something like that from him. Shouldn't she?
Her smile was surprisingly sad. "You never do anything without a reason."
"True enough." Why then did he feel this sudden heaviness, the realization of exactly what horrors his curse would wreck upon this world? Rumplestiltskin did not feel any particular remorse for his actions, and he certainly didn't feel responsible for anyone in the Enchanted Forest. Great power or no, the world had never given him anything that he hadn't taken, and he refused to feel like he should care what happened to them.
Resolutely, Rumplestiltskin pushed aside the strange flutter of guilt.
"Rumple?"
"I created it for Bae," he admitted, his voice suddenly thick. "To find Bae."
To say that Belle was not entirely happy about his creation of the Dark Curse was something of an understatement. Being Belle, she waited until Rumplestiltskin was up and around before bringing the subject up again, but being Belle, she wasn't going to let it rest, either. Unfortunately, she chose to readdress the matter just as he commenced battle with the various enchantments that the castle's previous occupants had enacted, starting with the winding, biting stairs leading up to his favorite work room in the tower.
He jumped back from one step with a string of curses, lacking his old agility but fortunately not quite crippled. Though his curse had automatically corrected his physical failings, Rumplestiltskin could manage the same level of mobility using conscious magic, even if there was a small telltale of pain in his leg when he did so. Still, it was better than needing a walking stick, and he didn't have a noticeable limp, so Rumplestiltskin would take what he could get, even if the old injury twinged in pain every now and then. It was better than re-shattering and actually healing the leg, anyway, which was a process he didn't even want to contemplate tackling. Then the stupid stair tried to bite him again, and magic crackled out of his fingers.
The stair snapped at the air in protest, letting out a vicious little whining noise, but after several seconds of the magical beating, it finally submitted with a whimper. "Stay like that," Rumplestiltskin ordered, cautiously placing his left foot on the offending stair.
Victory. It didn't move.
"I almost feel sorry for the stairs," Belle said as she approached, and he shot her a smile.
"Don't be. I'm the third dark sorcerer to own this place. Most of the stranger enchantments aren't mine. I just convinced the place to cooperate."
"What happened to the last one?" she asked curiously.
"He tried to break a deal with me." Rumplestiltskin shrugged, studying the wall next to the stairs. That was his next target, having been enchanted to suck in unwelcome visitors—and having acquired a new habit of trying to trap him instead. The reason the enchantments in the castle had suddenly decided to defy him was…interesting, to say the least, but at the moment he wasn't up to thinking about why something created (and cowed) by dark sorcerers no longer viewed him sufficiently dark to obey without question. "It didn't go so well for him."
"Oh."
Puzzled, he turned to face her. "What is it, sweetheart?"
"I've been thinking," Belle replied slowly. "About the curse."
"Which one?"
"The one you wrote." Unhappy though she looked, Belle allowed him to take her hands and pull her into a small sitting room halfway up the tower. It was a rarely used room, and rarely dusted (even during Belle's servant days), but at least it gave them somewhere to talk.
"Belle…"
He'd explained his reasoning to her, had even told her about the many steps he'd already undertaken to make sure that the curse could be successfully executed. Rumplestiltskin had never imagined telling anyone about his plans, and yet not telling her had never even occurred to him. But he'd known that she wasn't happy with him, and now her stubborn expression told him that he was about to get an earful.
"Let me finish, please? Before you say anything else?" she asked, squeezing his hands for emphasis.
"Of course."
Rumplestiltskin braced himself for a lecture on the morality of tearing thousands of people out of their homes and happy endings simply to find his lost son. He knew that using the curse wasn't right, of course—though he'd never really concerned himself with morality before, not since before he was the Dark One, anyway—but doing the right thing paled in comparison with finding Baelfire and always had. He needed to find his son, at least to apologize to him, to somehow try to make up for his own cowardice. The rest of the world could burn if it meant finding Bae, knowing his attitude was wrong didn't change it at all. Belle, however, surprised him and jumped straight to the heart of the matter.
"Isn't there anything else you can do?" she asked. "Some other way to get him back?"
"If there was another way, don't you think I would have done it by now?" he snapped before he could stop himself. Then he winced, hating himself for taking that centuries' old anger out on Belle. "The seer told me that the curse will be cast. I've seen it, too. The curse is coming. There's nothing that can be done to change that."
"You told me that you only see pieces of the puzzle, though," Belle said thoughtfully. "How can you know that you've seen the right ones?"
"I just know, Belle."
He'd always been so certain…except for the small flashes of something he'd started seeing after Belle broke his curse.
"Can you promise me something?" Unexpectedly, she stepped close to him, wrapping her arms around him, and Rumplestiltskin returned the embrace, letting his eyes close and resting his cheek on her hair. Just touching her was relaxing, brought him a kind of peace he had thought gone forever when he'd taken on that curse.
"Anything." He'd never dare say those words to anyone other than Belle, but he knew that she would never ask for something he could not give.
"Promise me that you'll try. That you'll try to find another way, and that you'll work towards that as well."
"And if there isn't?" he had to ask.
"Then I'll help you in every way I can, and I'll stand by you every step of the way," Belle promised, her voice fierce. "Forever means forever, and I won't let you face this alone."
His voice caught in his throat. I love this woman more than words can express. "I promise," Rumplestiltskin said softly.
After all, promising her that he would explore other paths cost him nothing, and he would do almost anything to lay Belle's mind at rest. This certainly qualified.
"Is this what you really want, Snow?" Red asked her quietly. "I mean, I'm sure he can do it, but…"
"I have to forget him. He's getting married, Red. And I can't go on the rest of my life like this," Snow replied around the lump in her throat. She couldn't do this anymore, couldn't spend every waking moment thinking of her Prince Charming. He was going to do the right thing, as all princes must, and marry Princess Abigail. Otherwise, King George would kill him. And she couldn't let that happen, so she'd told him that she didn't love him, and yet she still couldn't stop thinking about him. Loving him. Wanting him.
"Then go," Red said, hugging her. "And good luck."
Two days of travel later, Snow eased her boat against the dock that the locals claimed led towards the Dark Castle. The fog was thick and it was dark out, and though the old wise woman she had talked to suggested restarting her journey in broad daylight, Snow felt that now was appropriate. She hadn't dared call for Rumplestiltskin the way legend said you could—what if Regina could hear such calls? Regina would use any weakness she could find against Snow, and she couldn't risk having her stepmother know she was in love.
So here she was. Ready to take the long walk up to the castle of the Dark One, and hoping against hope that he really was true to his word and would do her this favor without charging anything. After all, what did she have to offer him? Once, she'd been a princess, with the world at her fingertips, but now Snow was just a bandit. She was an outlaw while her evil stepmother ran her kingdom. She was nothing.
Letting out a deep breath to banish her fears, Snow stepped from the boat and crouched down to make it fast to the pier. Then there was a slight noise behind her, and she spun, only to find the Dark One himself sitting in the stern of her rowboat.
"How much for this?" Rumplestiltskin asked, and the strange sound of his high-pitched voice made her jump.
She had to catch her breath. "Excuse me?"
"Your boat. Exquisite craftsmanship."
"It's not for sale," Snow managed around the lump in her throat. Having seen him before really didn't make him less frightening, but she was a princess—even if one in exile—and would act like one. Even if he wasn't really…human at all. How did Belle fall in with him? What was he using her for?
He giggled. "Of course it is, dearie. No one comes to see me without a deal in mind."
"You said you'd owe us favors," Snow replied resolutely, squaring her shoulders. "When we helped Belle."
"So I did." He rose gracefully, hopping out of the boat with a flourish, and then swept her a graceful bow that was oddly reminiscent of the day Snow and Red had discovered that Belle's so-called "True Love" was actually Rumplestiltskin, and that the girl they had befriended had lied to them. But if that helped her now, Snow was willing to forget the lie. Forgetting, after all, was her goal. "Name your desire, 'fairest of them all'."
"I need a cure."
"What ails you, child?"
She took a deep breath, swallowing back the urge to ask him to find a way to make Charming hers forever. "A broken heart."
"Ah, the most painful of afflictions." Was there an odd note in his voice, or was she just imagining that? "Well, I'm afraid if you want me to make him love you, no can do, and nothing can."
"No, that's not the problem," Snow choked out, wishing things were that simple. "We can't be together."
He held up a finger, suddenly looking playful. "Well, that, I can help you with."
Reaching into a pouch at his side, Rumplestiltskin removed a small bottle, laughing…oddly as he did so. Without another word, he dropped to one knee on the dock, and dipped the bottle in the water, filling it most of the way before shaking the excess water droplets off. Then—though she could swear the water was perfectly clear not moments before—the liquid in the bottle turned a murky, snowy white while he just held it there. Snow could only stare.
"That'll do it?" she asked dubiously.
He gave her a look that said she was around two years old, and stupid, too. "Not yet." Then his expression grew unreadable again. "No two loves are exactly alike. We must make this"—The imp rose, and without warning, grabbed several strands of her hair, yanking them out. Snow yelped as he laughed—"Personal."
Slowly, Rumplestiltskin slid one of her hairs into the bottle as Snow watched, transfixed. She barely found the courage to ask:
"So, if I drink that, I'll no longer love him?"
"The next time you see the object of your grief, you won't even remember who he is," was the answer as Rumplestiltskin put a stopper in the bottle.
Snow's heart constricted. "I…won't even remember him?"
Somehow, that thought hurt almost as much as loving him did. Charming's face flashed before her eyes, his smile, his laugh. She loved him. Even if the emotion was crippling, how could she forget him? It would be like forgetting a part of herself.
"Love is the most powerful magic," Rumplestiltskin replied, leaning close to her. His voice was low, now, not sing-songy or joking. Simply serious. "So the cure must be…extreme."
"Extreme sounds like an understatement," she swallowed.
"Doubting yourself already, dearie? Do think it through. Love is like a delicate flame—and once it is gone, it is gone forever." Amber eyes burned into hers, startlingly perceptive. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
If I do this, I'll forget him. Snow wanted to cry, but she was not going to let this terrifying sorcerer see that kind of weakness from her. The only thing worse than forgetting Charming forever would be living with the knowledge that he'd married someone else, that she could love him with all of her heart and never see him again. Perhaps taking the potion would be better. Then Charming would not have to be weighed down by her love. He could go on, and maybe she could, too. Maybe then she could forget the hole in her heart caused by having lost him.
"We can't be together," she repeated sadly, reaching for the bottle. She'd do this for Charming, if not for herself. For James.
"You haven't asked my price." The imp moved it out of her reach.
That was too much. Bad enough that she had to deal with her own heartbreak; Snow had no intention of playing any games. "I thought you said you'd owe us a favor. Red and I," she snarled. "Is this how you keep your promises?"
"I always honor my agreements," he answered, his voice suddenly devoid of laughter and very, very dangerous. Then the smile returned, brilliant and mocking, and the sudden darkness vanished. "Don't waste a favor from Rumplestiltskin with this, Princess. These'll do."
In between the fingers of his other hand, he held a few strands of her hair. Snow stared.
"What do you need of my hair?"
"What do you need of it now that it's been plucked from your head?" he countered.
He had a point, so Snow only shrugged as he held the bottle up.
"Do we have a deal, or will you waste your favor on something so trivial?"
It's only hair, Snow told herself. Whatever he wanted it for, well, it probably wouldn't matter to her. "We have a deal," she said quietly, taking the bottle from Rumplestiltskin and making to turn away. His voice turned her back.
"One word of advice—in the spirit of gratitude, so to speak," Rumplestiltskin said, his fingers forming a steeple under his chin. "Love may be the most infectious of diseases, but our pain makes us who we are. Regret drives more strongly than any other force. Drinking that potion will remove your pain…but remember—all magic comes at a price."
Something in his voice made her pause, but Snow pushed away her doubts. "Right. I—"
But he was gone, vanished into the mists or…something.
Sliding one hair into the bottle—the other he had put into a box for safekeeping, carefully labeled and set aside for later use, just in case—Rumplestiltskin sat down at his favorite work table. He wasn't sure if Snow White would take the forgetfulness potion or not, but even if she did, her love for her Prince Charming would only grow with time, forgotten or no. He knew they would wind up together as well as he knew his own name, and the fact that they had to fight for one another would only make their love stronger.
Rumplestiltskin smiled wryly. He knew that from experience.
"I thought you used some strange ingredients in magic, but hair?" Belle's voice came from behind him, making him jump. He'd been too deep in thought to notice her entering the room, but now she lowered herself onto the bench next to him, bumping him over with her hip to make space.
Despite himself, he smiled. "Hello to you, too, dear."
"Hi." Belle leaned in to kiss him, and Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes briefly, leaning his forehead against hers.
"What are you doing here?" he asked after a moment. "I thought you were off with that fencing master down in town."
"I'm afraid that I'm still terrible at fencing," she replied with a grin. "He told me that I was hopeless, and I came home."
"Pity. I think you look quite fetching with a sword in hand."
"I think you're biased."
"Perhaps," he grinned.
Belle snuggled against his shoulder. "So, what are you making, anyway?"
"True Love, of course." Rumplestiltskin put a stopper in the vial, not willing to let anything contaminate the ingredient he already had. "From your friend Snow White. Soon enough, her charming prince will come storming in, and I'll add his hair to it. It should work."
"Have you done this before?" Belle asked, peering curiously at the bottle.
"Never. But True Love is the most powerful of magics, and we'll need it to break the curse once it transports us to the Land Without Magic."
"I thought True Love could break any curse?"
"Ah, but that's in a land with magic, Belle. In a land without it, I have to set things up just right. And besides, it is a foolish sorcerer who does not predetermine the exact conditions under which their curse may be broken."
Belle sat up to peer at him curiously. "I thought some people didn't want their curses to be broken?"
"Those that think they can write an unbreakable curse are fools," he replied waving a hand at the rack of potions in front of them. "Nothing is unbreakable—you proved that." They smiled at one another, and he resolutely ignored the distant whispers of his former curse inside his mind. "But it is possible to restrict how a curse can be broken. This one, for example, will only be broken by a child of Snow White and Prince Charming, the product of their True Love. So I will put a drop of their True Love on the parchment, thus creating a safety valve."
"I think you believe most people who use magic are fools," his wife—wife!—laughed at him.
He shrugged. "That's because they are."
"Do you ever check your ego?"
"Not usually."
"Then why do you think so?" Belle asked, reaching one hand up to play with his hair.
Leaning into her touch, Rumplestiltskin contemplated telling her one of a half hundred anecdotes he had to describe how most people toyed with magic and managed to destroy themselves—or that which they sought to protect—in the process. But he could have shared a thousand such stories without ever really getting to the heart of the matter, so he chose to approach the topic head on. "Because they don't count the cost," he replied, a delicious shiver running down his spine as Belle's fingers lightly caressed his skull. "All magic—"
"Comes with a price," Belle cut him off. "Even I know that, Rumple."
"Ah, but do you know why I say that?" he asked her, smiling. He'd always enjoyed teaching, much to his surprise, even if his first pupil had brought him a world full of trouble. Still, had Cora not broken my heart, I'd not be here, now. And this is so much better.
"Because you like making deals?"
"No. Well, I won't deny I that enjoy it—but that isn't the point. The point is that all magic has consequences, Belle." He rose to pace a bit, warming up to his subject. His leg twitched slightly in pain, but the disability was still manageable. "Magic is cause and effect. For every bit of magic you use, there is a result. And that result is separate from the effect you intend by using such magic. The cost is always something more. An unintended consequence, if you will. Sometimes the price is small—a lifespan shortened by several minutes, a slight blackening of the heart, a storm on a sunny day—and sometimes, particularly with the greater magics, it is not so small at all."
"Like what?" She frowned thoughtfully, her forehead creasing in concentration. Belle leaned forward eagerly—if there was one thing he'd always know about her, the girl did love learning.
"Did you ever wonder where dragons come from?"
Belle looked at him dubiously. "No way."
"Oh, yes. Dragons, minotaurs, chimeras, harpies, manticores, sirens, and even unicorns. Pretty much every magical creature you can think of. Some of them can breed, but the originals… All are unintended consequences of fools using magic that they do not understand, and refusing to count the cost."
"Then how do you avoid that by demanding a price?"
Unlike Cora, who had never given a damn what magic cost anyone outside herself, and unlike Regina, who was so wrapped up in her own pain that she decided to take it out on the world, Belle was listening. He could see that brilliant mind of hers turning his words over, one by one, thinking and evaluating. It was a pity that Belle had no innate talent for magic, because Rumplestiltskin was quite certain that she would have made an outstanding sorceress. And unlike me, she'd never be touched by this sort of darkness. No, Belle would be the stuff from which legends are made—legends of the good kind. Still, he shook himself free to continue the lesson.
"Because the cost is not predetermined. You can manage it, if you play your cards right. Magic doesn't care what the cost is—it just has to be enough to counterbalance the weight, the worth, of what you are trying to do. Take 'Cinderella,' for example."
"What about her?"
"The magic I used changed her life. Literally. It took her from an unpaid servant, dressed in rags, and turned her into the type of woman that her prince would notice. She could have done that on her own, possibly, but it would have taken a great deal of work, and the magic sidestepped that work for her. Therefore, the cost of that magic must be also life changing."
Belle frowned. "Then why did you simply demand something precious of her? Shouldn't you have been more specific, to make sure the magic is, um, satisfied?"
"I should have. You're right." He met her frown with a smile, wagging a finger at her. "But the girl didn't read the fine print, and that means the potential for loss is even greater. She said she'd give 'anything', and signed the contract. Such willingness to sacrifice is more than enough to balance the scales."
"What will you ask, then?"
For a long moment, he contemplated lying to Belle. Belle wouldn't like this one, he knew, possibly even as much as she hated the idea of the Dark Curse. But he'd promised himself—and her—honesty, and Rumplestiltskin would try to live up to that.
"For her firstborn child."
"What?" Belle gasped. "Rumplestiltskin, you can't. That's—that's horrible."
He scowled. "I don't steal babies for fun, sweetheart. I'd find the child a good home, one where it was needed."
"You'd make two deals for a child, then. That's not much better," she retorted, glaring and crossing her arms.
"Relax. She won't give the child to me." Much of the future remained an uncooperative puzzle, but he knew that much was certain. What he did with that betrayal was still left undecided; for if he did explore another path as Belle wanted, how would he deal with that? Rumplestiltskin had no intention of living out the remainder of his life in a cage, and that meant he'd have to break the logjam somehow. Think on that later.
"Then what will you do to her?" Belle asked warily.
"Eh. She'll try to trick me, use some friends to imprison me. It might be useful," he replied lightly.
"Imprison?" Belle echoed, and now her worry was for him.
But he only smiled, sitting back down next to her. "Don't worry, darling. They've yet to build a cell that will hold me, even without the curse."
She believed him, thankfully, and did not bring up the fact that Regina had held him for nearly two weeks, torturing Rumplestiltskin to the point where he almost couldn't do magic. Belle's arrival—and the timely release of several of those magic-blocking shackles—had made him desperate enough to break free regardless of the personal cost, but had she not shown up, he didn't know how long it would have taken. Would he have managed it if not so worried for her, had his desperate need to keep Belle safe not fueled his magic? Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure. He did know that he would allow nothing in the world to hurt Belle while he yet breathed, and that he'd fight for her long after he was incapable of fighting for himself.
Yet amongst all those thoughts, he never once contemplated the fact that it was love which had lent him such power, rather than the darkness to which he was so accustomed.
A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this! Ironically, although this story is much simpler than "Original Powers", it's been giving me fits lately. So my writing pace has slowed. That said, stay tuned for Chapter 11, in which Rumplestiltskin and Belle receive an unexpected pair of visitors. Here's a clue: neither character has shown up in this story yet, but are both close friends of someone who has.
In the meantime, do you think Rumplestiltskin will do as Belle asks and find a way to get to his son aside from the Dark Curse? Let me know what you think!