11

Truth Revealed

Mr. Gold, who now knew himself to be Rumplestiltskin, spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in the jail cell where Emma had put him. He had been locked up once before, in a filthy hole by James, Snow White's Prince Charming, but had managed to talk his way out of that cell within a month. But that former incarceration had given him a loathing of small spaces and being shut anywhere.

So it was that he spent a rather uncomfortable night, even though the bed might have been considered comfortable by some. His mind kept spinning around and around, gnawing on the memories that had returned to him, and also the fear that Alina would reject and condemn him the way Bae had. The girl practically worshipped him, what would she think if she found out that once he had been a dark sorcerer? He had made a bargain with her mother and kept her locked in his castle until he fell in love with her. Could he trust Alina to understand all the myriad fears that had driven him? Or would she, too, hate magic and fear him once she realized what he had done? Would she think of him as a coward, the way Bae had?

His beautiful little princess, the best thing to come of his love for Belle, whom he had adored since the day she had been placed in his arms. He could not bear it if she turned on him. The fear ate at him, making him a nervous wreck even before the sun crested the horizon and shone into the cell in all its harsh glory.

Gold sat upon the bed, his head throbbing as if he'd had a hangover, and waited for Emma to come. He knew he could make one phone call and would have Saylah call his financial advisor, who handled his investments. The advisor, a Mr. Bloom, would give Saylah access to his account so he could post bail, and then he would be out of here, probably by noon.

Of course, that still left him trying to explain to Alina everything that was going on. Just thinking about it made his guts clench. He leaned his head back against the side of the cell and fell into a half-doze.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Emma ate breakfast as usual with Mary Margaret at Granny's, wondering as she did so how to get Gold to tell her what had really happened between him and Moe. The man was infuriating, stubborn as a jackass and as closemouthed as a clam. Perhaps she could go and talk to Moe, if he was up to seeing visitors.

So after she had finished her scrambled eggs, potatoes, and sausage, she drove over to the hospital. She found that Moe was in a private room, wearing a soft foam collar because his collarbone had been fractured. He also had two cracked ribs, bruises on his upper torso and his right arm. He was on pain meds and Valium and when Emma came in, he just looked at her blankly.

"Mr. French? Moe? It's Sheriff Swan. I just wanted to know if you're able to answer some questions for me?"

Moe didn't respond except to blink his eyes a few times. Emma tried again. "I just want to ask you a few questions about what happened last night. I know you're in pain so I'll keep it short."

Moe didn't answer.

Then the nurse came in and said quietly, "You won't get anything out of him for hours, sheriff. That's some pretty strong pain meds he's on. He's out of it."

"Oh. Okay," Emma sighed. It looked like she was back to square one. She had to talk to Gold. She left Moe's hospital room and started back towards the sheriff's office. On the way there she stopped at Granny's. It was ten forty-five.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Emma came into the office and saw Gold slumped against the wall. She paused, the brown paper bag she held in one hand. He seemed to be sleeping. But why in hell was he sleeping like that? The bed was right there.

Shrugging, she hung up her jacket and placed the bag on her desk. A Styrofoam cup of coffee accompanied it. She sat at her desk and just stared at the rest of the paperwork she had to do. Slowly, she placed The Universal Spiral on the desk. She knew she had to return it to Gold, but strangely, the book had grown on her. She almost hated to give it up.

When she turned back towards the cell, she saw that Gold had his eyes open.

"Is that coffee I smell?"

"Hungry?" Emma asked.

"What do you think?"

"I think you should talk to me."

Gold just looked at her. His stomach growled loudly, a pointed reminder he hadn't eaten since last night. "I need to make a phone call, Emma."

Emma sighed. "You're not making this easy on either of us. Why can't you just tell me what happened?"

"Because I need to talk to Saylah first. May I?"

Emma ground her teeth. "Fine, Gold. Use my cell." She handed it to him through the bars.

After the phone call, she gave him the cup of coffee. "Here. Now don't say I never gave you anything."

He took the coffee and sipped it. "How did you know how I like my coffee?"

"Alina's Henry's best friend. She tells him everything. Including your favorite food."

"And he remembers that?"

"Henry seems to remember everything." She waved the paper bag at him. "Want a breakfast sandwich? Then give me a hint of what the hell went down last night."

"You want me to confess over a breakfast sandwich?" he inquired. "You forget, I know my rights. I am a lawyer. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," he quoted.

"Dammit, Gold! I'm not asking for a confession. This is off the record. Don't you trust me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not in the habit of trusting a lot of people, dearie."

Emma grabbed the paper bag and thrust it into the cell. "My phone, please. And there! Eat it. I won't starve you. I'm not inhumane. Though some people would say you were, after what you did to Moe."

Gold handed her the cell back, but made no move towards the bag. "Is that what you think, Emma?"

Emma shoved the phone back in her pocket. "I think you had reason to do what you did. You don't strike me as a crazy bastard, Gold. Just a pain-in-the-ass. You gave me this book." She picked it up and showed it to him.

"Did you read it?"

"Yes."

"And what did you think?"

"It was . . . enlightening."

"Do you believe now?"

"I . . . I think so. I think I understand now."

"Good. Keep it. You might need it." Then he picked up the bag and took out the sandwich. "If you knew what I do about Moe French, you might think what I did as more vigilante style justice than anything else."

"Why?"

He did not answer right away, instead eating his sandwich.

Emma waited calmly.

Once he had finished he said, "What would you say if I told you that someone once threatened my daughter?"

"Moe threatened Alina? Why?"

"Wouldn't it enrage you if someone threatened to harm Henry?"

"Yes, of course. Is that what happened?"

"Perhaps. I don't give away information for free."

"Gold! I fed you!"

"Yes, yes. But you were just doing your job."

Emma glared at him. "Why are you being so damn stubborn?"

"It's my nature, dearie. Why do you want to know the truth so badly?"

"It's my nature. Won't you tell me?"

"Not yet. Right now I have to think of something to tell Alina."

"You're not going to lie to her, are you?"

"No. I have never done that. But telling her the truth . . . will be hard on her."

"Well, I'm sure she'll be upset, but . . . once you explain everything, instead of speaking in riddles like you are to me, I'm sure she'll forgive you."

"I don't know," Gold murmured sadly. He finished the cup of coffee, stuffed the empty cup into the bag and shoved it back through the bars. Then he sat there, staring at the floor.

Emma wanted to scream at him. But she didn't. Instead she took the bag and threw it out. Then she spun her chair around and started going through the paperwork. Two could play at this game.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Around two o'clock, Emma left to get some lunch. Gold still hadn't spoken with her about Moe French or their disagreement. She still didn't know what Moe had taken or why Gold had flipped out on him. But she was determined to have some answers.

Gold was alone in his cell, contemplating if he should tell Emma the reason why he detested French so much when Alina walked in. It was plain she'd come straight from school, because she was in her uniform with her backpack slung over one shoulder. She rushed over to stand beside the bars, her eyes huge in her pale face.

"Papa! Are you all right?"

"Hello, princess. I'm fine," he said, managing a small smile. God help him, the last thing he wanted was for Alina to see him like this. But there was no help for it.

"When are they gonna let you out?"

"Soon. I should be out of here by this afternoon."

She looked at him, her eyes a mixture of curiosity, sadness, and puzzlement. "I heard . . . people are saying you're here because you beat up Moe French. Why would you do that, Papa? He's just a florist."

Rumplestiltskin winced. "It's . . . complicated, sweetheart. I'll explain everything when I get home. I promise."

She looked as if she were about to protest. Then she nodded. "But it's true?"

"Yes," he sighed. "I lost my temper. I shouldn't have."

"Was it because he owed you money?"

"That was only part of it."

"Was it because he took Mama's cup?" she asked, sensing instinctively that had something to do with it.

"That's another part. Alina, I'll tell you everything at home. We'll have a long talk. There are things I need to tell you, things that might . . . surprise you, but you need to listen to me. Okay?"

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"It's not the right time. We need privacy."

"There's no one here."

"Emma could come back any minute."

Alina sighed. "I miss you, Papa. Saylah ate breakfast with me this morning before she told me where you were. It wasn't the same."

"I know. I'm sorry. Did you walk to school?"

"Henry offered to drive me, but I don't trust Regina," Alina answered. "So I called Paige and her mom drove us."

"That was smart," Gold said approvingly. He'd always told Alina to be wary of Regina and it seemed that she'd taken his advice to heart.

She reached a hand through the bars and he took it.

She was confused and she hated that she couldn't even hug her own father. She had tried to ignore the rumors, but it seemed all the kids could whisper about was the fact that her father was a jailbird and almost killed Mr. French. She didn't believe half of what they said, except for the fact that he was in jail. She squeezed his fingers in her right hand, and gripped one of the bars with her left.

"I wish you could come home now, Papa," she said. Suddenly she feared he would never be let out and she would return home without him. She couldn't bear that and she felt an odd quivering in the pit of her stomach, a sensation that radiated up through her arm.

"I will, Alina. You just have to be patient," he began, his heart aching for his innocent child.

"It's too bad I couldn't . . . bust you out of here," she said, two tears trickling down her cheeks.

"This isn't the movies, Alina," he started to say when he noticed her crying. It damn near broke his heart. "Don't cry, Alina, please." He hated when she cried, he couldn't stand to see her in pain, especially not when he was the cause of it.

Suddenly, she felt an odd tingling sensation in her left hand. It prickled and danced across her skin and for a few moments, her hand seemed to glow, as if lit from within by a purple light.

The light sizzled over the bars and Alina jumped back, releasing both the bars and her father's hand.

She gasped as she saw that the bar she'd been holding had . . . black marks on it . . . almost like handprints. There was the faintest glow of purple and then it was gone.

She stared in disbelief at her hand. It looked normal. "Papa, what happened? The bar . . . did I do that? My . . . my hand . . . how did that happen?"

The terror in her voice roused him from his shock. "Alina, calm down. It's all right, dearie."

She shook her head. She stared at the bar where her hand had been. The marks were still there. Like her hand. She shivered. What had she done? Had she really left a handprint there?

Gold almost couldn't believe what had occurred. Dear God, she has magic. Like me. He had long considered the possibility that his daughter might have inherited magic's Gift, because when used properly, the magic was a gift, and not a curse—but he'd never expected it to show up like this! Usually those possessing some sort of magic had bouts of it as teenagers, hormones seemed to bring it on. Or sometimes tragic or emotional hardships.

"Alina, listen to me. What just happened was an accident . . ."

"I didn't mean to!" she half-sobbed, terrified she would be locked up too for trying to help her father escape, though she hadn't really done so. Did intent matter?

"Alina, please, calm down, sweetheart," he ordered, knowing that getting control over her emotions was paramount.

Then he felt something . . . a presence . . . and it wasn't Emma.

He stiffened. Regina. He'd know her aura anywhere, even if he didn't have access to his magic right now. Oh hells! He couldn't let Regina find out about Alina. And she would if she walked in right now. He could feel Alina's latent magical energy, and if he could do so, Regina would have no trouble. If she ever discovered there was a neophyte magic user here . . .

"Sweetheart, take a deep breath. Now, I need you to leave. Right now."

"Why? I want to stay with you."

"I know, but you have to go. Just do as I say. Leave and . . . and wait outside for Henry."

"How . . . how did you know he was going to come visit Emma?"

"He usually does, right? Now, please, go, Alina! Hurry!"

"But I want to know what happened . . ."

"I'll tell you later. Go!"

Now he could hear Regina's heels tapping down the hall.

Alina finally obeyed, leaving by the side door.

Just as the door snicked shut, Regina came in with Henry from the front entrance. "Where's Emma?"

"I think she stepped out to get some lunch. I'm sure she'll be back soon," Gold replied, forcing himself to sound normal. That had been too close!

"Oh. Henry, you go and wait outside for her. Go and get some ice cream or something. You have half-an-hour." Regina waved at him.

Henry just nodded and scampered away.

Gold was sure Alina would find him. He glared at Regina.

"Well, well. How the mighty have fallen," she purred, and there was satisfaction in her tone that burned like acid.

"Want to exchange places with me?" he hissed, trying to keep his temper in check.

She laughed, a brittle sound devoid of mirth. "I'm the mayor, Gold. No one, not even savior Emma, would dare lock me up."

He bared his teeth. "Pity. Might be an improvement."

"Such delicious gossip!" Regina said, pointing a long nail at him. "The eminent Mr. Gold, losing his cool and almost beating to death a poor florist. What will people say?"

"I didn't beat him to death, and he was no innocent. However, I'd say you put him up to this, Regina. Didn't you?"

She shrugged. "I may have . . . given him a few suggestions. The man really doesn't like you. Not after you took away his truck."

"The feeling's mutual." Gold said shortly, not wanting to fence with Regina right now. "You told him exactly what to take. Now where is it?"

She smirked like a child teasing a playmate. Then she unzipped a black bag she had hanging at her side and pulled out the cup. "Looking for this?" She held it up just before the bars. "My, what a fuss over such an . . . ordinary object."

Rumplestiltkin's eyes fixed on the chipped cup. Oh, how he wanted to reach out and grab it, to clasp it to him, this last piece of his love for Belle, the affirmation of their imperfect yet beautiful love. But he forced himself to remain still, to not react. That was what Regina wanted. If she saw how much the cup meant to him, she would move heaven and earth to make him pay for it. By whatever means necessary.

Regina stroked the side of the white and blue rimmed porcelain cup. She eyed Gold consideringly. "Do you want it?"

Gold remained calm, inscrutable. They could have been discussing the weather. "It's a keepsake."

"A keepsake you were willing to maim Moe French over."

"You don't give a damn about French. This isn't about him. This is about you and me, Regina. Like it's always been."

"But of course!" she chuckled. "You're the only worthy player in the game. But . . . everything comes with a price."

He ground his teeth silently. She was right. He couldn't let her keep the cup. It was almost like a piece of his heart was embedded in that porcelain. Too dangerous for a sorcerer of his caliber to let go. Of course, Regina didn't know that. Yet. And Rumplestilskin had no intention of letting her find out. But he also couldn't indebt himself further to her by asking for the cup back.

You're between a rock and a hard place, Rum. Just do the best you can, he counseled himself silently. He'd made worse deals than this. All right, my old enemy. Round one to you. But that's not the end. "What do you want?"

"Oh, a very trifling thing. I want to know your name."

"You already do," he said, feigning misunderstanding.

"Tell me your name," she demanded, her eyes glittering with the force of command.

"Mr. Gold has been my name since I came to this world," he said, answering yet not answering. He knew it was aggravating, but he loved to get Regina's goat.

Regina glared at him, her composure shredded. "Tell me your true name . . . or else this is mine."

Ah, trying to use the power of three against me, are you, dearie? That was a powerful enchantment, but Regina's power was diminished in this world. So he felt only a cursory impulse to obey, rather than the force that would have compelled him if they were in their old world. He lifted his head, met her eyes. I know who I am now. And knowledge is power.

Then he said, very softly, "Rumplestiltskin."

There! The die had been cast, the gauntlet thrown down.

She handed him the cup, which he held as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Right then it was. He leaned forward, using his voice as a prod, and said, "I am awake now, and no longer dreaming. Puts a bit of a crimp in your plans, doesn't it, dearie? But no curse lasts forever."

She stepped back slightly and said, "We'll see about that." Then she spun away, the haughty queen deigning to visit the lowly spinner in jail.

Behind her, Rumplestiltskin smiled. Battle had been joined. And he played to win.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Regina had just left the premises when Emma and the two children came back. Alina held a brown paper bag beside her and Henry carried a plastic cup probably filled with soda. Emma set her purse down on her desk and seemed rather flustered.

"Papa, we brought you lunch," Alina announced. "It's a pastrami sandwich with coleslaw on rye." She handed him the back, avoiding the place where the bars were slightly singed like the plague.

Gold saw her dart a half-fearful look at them before backing away. "Thanks, Alina," he said, unwrapping the sandwich.

Before he could take the first bite, Henry said, "Here's your Coke, Mr. Gold."

As he walked over to give Gold the soda, it zoomed out of his hand and slipped through the bars, landing neatly on the floor.

Gold blinked. "My God! You too!"

"Him too what?" Emma cried. "Gold, did you see what he did? Something like that happened at the diner too. He made the salt shaker move right across the table. Don't ask me how. Is it like telekinesis or something?"

"Am I like . . . a mutant? Like the X-Men?" asked Henry, not all frightened of his new "superpower".

"I have it too," Alina whispered.

At the same time Gold said, "No, you're not a mutant. You're a magician, born to magic's Gift. And so is Alina."

"Cool!" Henry was grinning.

Emma looked like she was about to faint. "My . . . my son has magic?"

"Yes, and so does Alina."

"How do you know that? How can you possibly know that?"

"Sit down, Emma. All of you, please sit down. This is going to take awhile. Emma, take your phone off the hook, once I start talking I don't want there to be any interruptions."

Emma did so, still feeling like someone had sucker punched her.

"I think it's best to start at the beginning. To answer your question, Emma, I know that Henry and Alina have magic because I also am a magician. Or I was until coming here lost me my powers. Once I was a powerful and feared sorcerer called Rumplestiltskin . . ."

Alina gasped. "Papa, you remember!"

"Well, he did read the Book," Henry reminded her.

Gold's eyes narrowed. "You know about my past, Alina? About what I was?"

She nodded. "I read the Book too. A few weeks ago. So I know everything the Book knows."

He let out a soft sigh of relief. "Then you . . . aren't . . . you don't hate me for what I was?"

"Why would I? You've changed, you're not who you were and I never even knew that person. Even if you are a powerful sorcerer, you're still my papa. My mom loved you always. So why shouldn't I?"

He felt as if a ton of bricks had been picked up off his chest. She didn't hate him! "Thank you, sweetheart," he said sincerely. He would have liked to hug her then, but the bars still separated them. "I changed after you came and I lost your mother, but that's a story for another time. Listen to me closely. . ."

He told them as much as he could about the war between him and Regina, about how he used a lot of his magic to counteract things she had destroyed and lives she had ruined.

"Now, don't make the mistake of thinking I was always like that. I wasn't. Once I allowed power to dictate my heart, and the curse I bore took me over. Until Belle came and broke most of its hold on me. Before her I was selfish, angry, filled with bitterness and hate. And I used magic for myself alone. It was because of that I lost my son, Baelfire."

"You had a son?" Emma whispered.

"Yes, long ago. But he hated the magic, and blamed it for my change in personality. He claimed it corrupted me. What he was too young to realize was that power and my own hatred corrupted me, not the magic. Do you remember the book I gave you to read, Emma? And how it talks of magic as a force, neither good or evil?"

"Yes. It said it was the actions of the caster that determined if magic was good or bad."

"Excellent! And that is the truth, as I'm sure you can tell," Rumplestiltskin said. Then he looked at Alina. "You needn't be afraid of your Gift, Alina. I can teach you how to control it."

"But . . . I almost melted the bar."

"That's because you're an enchantress. You can enchant any object, transmute anything to something else, and use your own energy and that of the earth's for defense or attack."

Alina stared down at her hands. It didn't seem possible she could do all that. She was just a girl. But her papa never lied. Not to her.

"What about me?" Henry wanted to know.

"Your primary ability is as a conjurer. You can summon things or people, creatures not of this world even. Call a thing three times and it is bound to obey you. You can summon light and heat as well. You can also send things away from you, small things usually. But be warned, sometimes what you summon can turn on you, unless you take the proper precautions."

"Wow! It's like Harry Potter!"

"This is real, not a storybook, Henry," Rumplestiltskin said sternly. "Magic always has a price."

"That's what the book said," Emma interrupted. "The one you gave me."

"Yes. And that is the most important lesson you will ever learn. All magic comes with a price, and if you are not willing to pay it, don't cast it." He looked at Emma, who looked rather as if she'd been blown away by a hand grenade. "Emma, just so you know, you have magic too."

"What? How?"

"Magic is inherited through generations. Yours was probably inherited through your mother. Such things usually are, especially to a child born out of true love. True love is the most powerful magic of all, so it spawns magically Talented children. Some of the time. About fifty percent."

"True love breaks all curses," Henry recited.

"Exactly, boy. It's why evil sorceresses hate it. Because the heart is more powerful than any magic."

"Why is that?" asked Alina.

"Because the heart sees past all deceptions, all illusions, magical and non-magical. It sees past even the lies we tell ourselves to the true core of a person. And once you see a person for what he or she is, you know that person, and true knowing is true power, dearie."

"Then what you love you can also . . . control?" Henry asked.

"You can, for to know a thing truly is to gain power over it. But love does not seek domination. It frees, it gives, and only rarely does it take and never for harm. To have that power . . . and to give it away . . . do you understand now why love breaks all curses?"

Alina nodded. "Because love sacrifices."

Emma interrupted, her mind whirling. "How can you know I have magic?"

"Because all practitioners of the Art can sense their own kind," Rumplestiltskin answered. "Once your magic awakens, others who bear it will know you for what you are. Even if you don't yourself. Your magic emits an aura, like radar, and those attuned to it always know."

"Then you knew before?"

"Not exactly. I wasn't awake before, so I didn't know what I was sensing. Now I do. One of your Gifts, Emma, is as a Truth Sayer. The bards back in the Dark Ages had that Gift, it was said. As for what else you have, I'd need to concentrate more fully before I determined that."

"This is . . . crazy!"

Gold laughed. "We're magicians, dearie! All of us have been called that. They thought DaVinci was crazy too, and he was a genius with a Gift of Sight. Merlin too. Don't worry about crazy. That's what other people call you when they can't figure out how to categorize you."

"I feel like I'm going crazy," Emma elaborated.

"You're not," Henry assured her.

"He's right. It's normal to feel like that when you first find out," Gold soothed. "Magic can be a frightening thing. But only at first. Once you learn how to bring it to heel, then you'll see wonders beyond your wildest imagination."

"Really?"

Gold nodded. "Oh, yes."

"But what are you, Papa?"

"Hmm. Oh, my Gift is as an Elementalist and Keeper of Knowledge. As such I know about many things and my powers over the Five Elements—Water, Earth, Fire, Air, and Spirit—help me when I need it. Or they did once. Right now they're blocked because of the curse, but eventually I'll have them back."

"Why aren't we? Or Regina?" Emma queried.

"Because, dearie, as the curse's caster, Regina remains almost unaffected by it. She didn't lose her memory and much of her magic is intact. You and Henry, however, are outside the curse because you weren't here when it was cast."

"But I was," Alina said.

"I know, dearie. But your magic was dormant then. So there was nothing for the curse to affect. Now it's awake, and free from the curse's rules. It's why I wanted you to leave here when Regina was coming. Because if she saw you then, she'd sense your magic and that's the last thing we need."

Henry looked troubled. "But what about me? If I go home, she'll know."

"True. Let me think about this. If I had my powers back, it would be a simple matter of disguising your aura. I could teach you, but it would take a few days. So . . . I need something else."

Suddenly, Emma cell began to vibrate. "Excuse me," she said, getting up to answer it and moving to the other side of the room. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end crackled a bit, but was easily understood.

"Oh, I see. Yes, I'll talk to him. Thank you."

She headed back towards Gold's cell. "That was your attorney. Your fine's been paid, you're free to go. He also said that he made a deal with French's public defender and agreed to pay off the man's hospital costs and expenses and also give him money for the damages you caused."

"Good. Then he can pay me what he owes and I'll give him his truck back. And possibly an apology."

She grabbed the keys and unlocked the cell door.

Gold stepped out of it, limping slightly, the cup held in his other hand.

"You got the cup back!" Alina exclaimed.

"Regina had it," he said shortly.

"Then she took it?" asked Emma.

"No, French did, with some encouragement," Gold said, a sneer twisting his face.

"Why do you hate him so much?" Emma queried softly.

Gold put his arm around Alina and hugged her to him. "Because nobody hurts my family, Emma. Nobody. And he hurt them more than once."

"I don't understand."

"I'll give you Henry's Book. Read it and you will," Rumplestiltskin replied. "For now, the debt between French and me is settled. But if he follows Regina again and takes what doesn't belong to him or tries to harm one of mine, all bets are off."

"I don't think he'd be that dumb," Emma said, resolving to read the Book in order to figure out the rest of Gold's mysterious past. Then she said, "If all the people in Storybrooke are fairy tale characters, who's Moe French?"

"He was a king. King Maurice," Rumplestiltskin answered.

Emma frowned. "But wasn't he . . .?"

"My grandfather," Alina said, the realization dawning. "And he . . . doesn't like me."

"No, dearie. Which is why I'm glad he doesn't know you. And why you must stay away from him," Gold said gently.

"I will. If he doesn't like me I don't like him either!"

"I don't blame you," Henry said feelingly.

"Come. We'll all go to my shop. I believe I have an amulet there that might help you, Henry. For a little while. You and Alina both."

"And me?" asked Emma.

"She already knows about you. And she's dismissed you as . . . insignificant. Otherwise she'd have killed you by now."

"I'll show her!" Emma snapped.

"Indeed, dearie. I have several surprises in store for Her Majesty the Queen," Rumplestiltskin chuckled wickedly. "What she doesn't know might come back to bite her. Hopefully fatally."