Chapter Thirty-Six—"Refining the Soul"
Will had tried to leave the day before, only for Mordred to 'chance' upon him and ask him where he was going. So, he'd made some flippant remark about wandering around out of boredom, which made the so-called King of Camelot introduce him to a few pretty young ladies from Camelot. Will might have been interested if said young ladies hadn't made a point of telling him about how they'd been part minotaur just a few weeks earlier—and if he hadn't wanted desperately to get back to his wife. Unfortunately, Mordred had merely shrugged and said they would investigate getting Will back to Wonderland "in good time", and Morgan had already told she couldn't help him.
Morgan had, however, also told him who could help him get home, and Will wasn't about to sit around and wait for Mordred to decide that it was time to help. Any idiot with half a brain could see that Mordred was obsessed with taking the Dark One down. Will didn't really disagree with that goal, particularly after his time with claws and fur, but he wasn't willing to wait, either. I should never have come back to this bloody town, he thought, pacing along the highest wall of the castle and glaring in Storybrooke's general direction. Next time you're going to storm out in a huff, you moron, make sure you just go to the Underland or something. Somewhere easier to get back from when you realize what a right bastard you've been.
Yeah, Mordred could deal with the 'Dark Swan' by himself, thank you very much. Will had coughed up enough hairballs since being turned back from cat form, and he was going to stay the hell away from the Dark One, Mordred, and the latter's strange vendetta.
Will was going to go home.
"Ruby?" David called softly, standing half inside the open back door to Granny's. Ella, who he knew wasn't one of his biggest fans at the moment, had just gone out with the trash, but David wasn't here to talk to her. "Are you in there?"
"Right here." As always, the werewolf appeared with unsettling quietness. Snow had always envied Red's ability to move silently through any terrain, but right now, it made David jump.
Noticeably, Ruby didn't apologize, although she always used to do so with a smile in the past.
"I wanted…I wanted to come apologize to you." He swallowed hard. "What Snow and I chose to do…it was wrong. We were so caught up in putting our daughter first that we hurt you deeply."
"Yes. You did." Her voice was flat, but David could see the pain in her eyes.
"You trusted us, and we let you down. I can't begin to say how sorry I am for that." David took a deep breath, and the ghostly feeling of a hand in his helped him go on, because he knew that the aching pain in his heart wasn't merely his own. Ruby had been Snow's oldest friend, and they had completely disregarded her when they'd learned their own daughter had killed Granny. "I doubt you're ready to forgive me, but I want you to know that if you need anything, all you have to do is say so. I won't let you down again."
"You're right. I'm not ready to forgive you." Ruby looked away for a moment. "And as nice as the offer of help is, I think I have everything covered."
"I understand." His chest was tight with regret; David knew that he should have come by right away, but things kept coming up, and somehow poor Ruby kept getting pushed down on the priority list. He'd come by once, but she hadn't even been there.
"Do you? When you came by two days ago, you didn't even ask where I was."
"I…I guess I assumed you were grieving, and I didn't want to disturb you." It seemed like that was the least I could do, after my family has already destroyed yours.
Ruby looked him right in the eye. "I was at the Golds'."
She didn't have to say more. David understood what that meant. Once, his family would have been the first people that Ruby turned to for help, and now, thanks to their betrayal, she would go elsewhere. She already had, and that burned, even though David knew that he deserved the cold shoulder. His daughter had killed Ruby's only family, and he and his wife hadn't even bothered to tell Ruby the truth. Or to even think about what it meant to her.
"This guy bothering you, Ruby?" a new voice said, and David turned to see a sharp-eyed Asian woman leaning out of the hallway behind Ruby. The newcomer watched him distrustfully, as if she didn't care who he was, and that only made him feel worse.
"No, David was just leaving." Ruby smiled at her friend. "Weren't you?"
"Um, yeah. I just—I'm sorry. Please believe that."
"I know." She looked away, and the other woman put a hand on her shoulder. "That makes it even worse, so you can go now."
Nodding, David left with a heavy heart. Never again, he vowed silently. Never again would he betray a friend. Yes, his daughter had to come first in his life—Emma was cursed, and she needed help—but he wouldn't cover up any wrongdoings to save her. He would find the right way to save Emma, without lies. He wasn't just a father, David suddenly realized. He was Storybrooke's only sheriff, now, and that meant he had a responsibility bigger than himself.
They had wound up spending the night in Arendelle, much to Rumplestiltskin's annoyance. But Anna had insisted, and Belle had given him one of those pleading looks that he never could ignore. Those big blue eyes had worked on him even when she'd just been his maid and he'd been desperately trying not to be in love with her, so there was absolutely no way Rumplestiltskin would be able to resist now that they were married. And he had told Henry where they were going, which meant that the only person who truly cared where Rumplestiltskin went wouldn't worry. So far as he knew, Belle had told her father, too, but his relationship with Maurice was a lot more peaceful when they avoided one another, so he hadn't asked.
"See?" Belle hugged his arm to her side as they walked back through the portal and into the Sorcerer's House's courtyard. "That wasn't so bad. You even enjoyed yourself."
Rumplestiltskin scowled. "I enjoyed dancing with you. The rest of it was…unsettling."
"You just don't know what to do with people who aren't skittering away from you in fear during social situations," she said pointedly, which made Rumplestiltskin shrug uncomfortably. She was right, of course. People had been wary but not hostile in Arendelle, and that was strange.
"Let's go inside and take a look at your memory stone, shall we?" He didn't want to have another conversation about why he was so uncomfortable with people who didn't hate, despise, or fear him. Belle knew enough, and she was always the optimist who told him things would get better with time. Yet centuries of experience had told Rumplestiltskin they'd all come to hate him soon enough, so he didn't want to argue.
"All right." Belle's voice faltered slightly, and suddenly her happiness faded to anxiety. "Will you…will you stay with me for it? I don't remember seeing her die, but I know I did."
"Of course I will, sweetheart." Wrapping an arm around her waist, Rumplestiltskin pulled Belle close as they walked into the House, which had opened the giant double doors leading in from the courtyard for them. "You don't have to show me if you don't want to, but I'll be right beside you."
"I can show you?" Her voice was absurdly small, and he stopped to touch her face.
"If you want. But you don't have to."
"I don't want—I don't think I want to do this alone. To watch it alone." Blue eyes searched his face. "Is that terribly weak of me?"
"No. No, of course it isn't." He hugged her briefly, kissing her hair. "Now, let's go to my study where we can sit down, all right?"
Belle nodded, and they walked down the hallway in silence, arms wrapped tightly around one another. Rumplestiltskin had never known his mother—his father had told him that she'd left him with Malcolm as an infant—so he couldn't quite imagine what it would be like to relive the memories of a dear parent dying. But he knew Belle, who loved with all of her heart and soul, would be torn up by it. She had been closer to her mother than her father, and if there was anything Rumplestiltskin could do to lessen her pain, he would do so without hesitation.
They reached his study quickly enough. The House had helpfully provided a vast room right off of the library it had given Belle, one that included a vast array of magical artifacts before Rumplestiltskin even moved his own inside. Most of the items he'd been most worried about leaving out for others to steal or use lived in that room, and although he generally disliked the Sorcerer's House's habit of making autonomous choices, he approved of that one. He also rather liked the study, surprisingly. The airy room, complete with skylights and floor-to-ceiling windows, felt lighter than his old tower or cellar workrooms, and somehow that complemented his new magic and new attitude far better than a more familiar room would have.
There was also a pair of blue couches in the corner, complemented by a matching window seat nearby. That was where Rumplestiltskin led Belle, who carefully took the memory stone out of her bag and studied it as they sat down.
"What do I do?"
"Just hold the stone in your hand and will the memories back," he explained gently, shifting so that he could wrap his left arm around her waist.
Belle glanced up at him. "How do I let you in?"
"Like this." Rumplestiltskin laid his hand on top of hers, with the stone sandwiched between their palms. "When you see the memories, I will as well—unless you want to block me out. If you do, just pull the stone away. I won't stop you."
"I won't." She swallowed, looking down at the stone apprehensively. "I trust you."
Rumplestiltskin just squeezed her, and Belle nodded resolutely.
"All right. Let's do this."
Magic pulled, and suddenly they were sucked into the vortex of memory.
"Darling, we must leave, quickly!" The speaker was a woman who looked terribly like Belle, simply taller. Rumplestiltskin started slightly, and then he realized he was looking at his wife's mother. Colette, he remembered her name was. She looked frantic with worry. "Where are you?"
"I'm right here, Mother!" Unsurprisingly, they stood in a library, surrounded by books. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave without this. It's the first story you ever read to me, remember? It's what made me fall in love with books."
Colette smiled, the expression as fond as it was strained. "Of course I remember, my Belle. Quickly, we must fleet befo—"
A rumbling noise filled the room, and both women gasped. Colette, however, quickly pulled her daughter underneath a large table.
"They're here." Belle turned worried eyes on her mother.
"We'll hide until they pass," she whispered, holding Belle tightly. Through their connection, in the memory, Rumplestiltskin could feel Belle's terror. She had lost friends, so many friends, to the ogres, and now she feared her own foolishness might make her mother pay the ultimate price, too. I should have left when Papa told me to, and not come back for the book! Belle berated herself worriedly. Yet she still clutched the leather bound book to her chest, and Rumplestiltskin knew without looking what book it had to be.
Thud.
"Ogres!" mother and daughter gasped together, clinging to one another. Rumplestiltskin had seen grown men piss themselves with fear in similar situations, had seen boys weep and knights flee. Both women were remarkably brave, for all their terror. A growling noise came from somewhere above them.
"It's going to be all right." Colette spoke with too much calm, too much confidence, but he knew Belle couldn't see that. She was being beat too strongly by the whirlwind of her own emotions, remembering her fear and hopelessness.
Suddenly, the table they sheltered under shot into the air, torn away by a giant set of hands. An ogre roared, and Belle flinched—hardly an uncommon reaction—but Colette shot to her feet.
"Mother!"
Guards rushed in, alerted by Belle's scream, but Colette had already—inexplicably—stepped towards the ogres, her arms raised. Belle screamed for her again as a daring guard grabbed the young woman, pulling her towards the door as Belle kicked and fought, and Rumplestiltskin was so busy watching her that he almost didn't notice the brilliant white light filling the room.
Colette's hands were raised and her face set intently, her brows knitted in determination. She was clearly unused to magic but summoning forth power from her love for her daughter, desperate to protect Belle with magic she knew she had. "Get her out of here!"
"Mother, no!" A second guard grabbed Belle, and they picked her up bodily, pulling her towards the door. "Let me go!"
An ogre reached for Colette, and then jerked back as if burned by the brilliant white magic. There was a certain glitter to the power that Rumplestiltskin recognized; it was watered down and not quite what he was used to, but he had seen this before. The second ogre skittered away from Colette with a rumbling cry, but the power faltered as a third ogre tested it. Then all three came on together, and Colette's hands started to shake with the effort of holding them back.
"Mother!" Belle howled, and Colette looked over her shoulder, just for a moment.
Tears sparkled in her brown eyes. "I love you," she whispered.
For a moment, the magic pulsing out of her hands grew stronger, forcing the ogres back long enough for the guards to pull the still-struggling Belle from the room. But even as they crossed the library's threshold, two of the ogres broke through Colette's magic, and Belle caught sight of a giant club raising into the air.
"No!" she screamed, and then everything went black.
The memory slammed to a halt, leaving Belle to sob in Rumplestiltskin's arms.
Scarlet had warned him about the witch, but for all Mordred knew, the man was justifiably wary of anyone with magic. Besides, the former cat hardly had the answers Mordred was looking for, which left him with a lot of work to do on his own—or with the option of asking Zelena. Given that Mordred was in a bit of a hurry, having already re-enchanted his gauntlet to lead him to that which he desired, he opted for the latter choice.
"Is there anywhere in this strange little town that one might find a magic bean or some other method of creating a portal?" he asked Zelena.
"What do you need that for?"
"To get to the Enchanted Forest. And back." He didn't need to tell her the whole of his plans to tell the truth, or at least most of it. Of course, Mordred really needed to get to the border between the Enchanted Forest and Camelot, to the land in which he had been born: Orkney.
"Whatever would you want to do that for?" She scowled. "There's not much left there, particularly after the second curse. Even the survivors of the first one got dragged over here that time." A giggle. "Much good it did them."
"I have business I need to conduct." And a Dark One to seal in her 'own' vault forever, he didn't add.
Zelena's eyes narrowed at that, and Mordred couldn't help recalling that he'd already been told she was unbalanced. Bleeding bonkers, Will had said. Mad as a fox in a henhouse. Mordred wasn't convinced of that, yet, but there was a worrisome light in her eyes that made him hesitant to trust her. Hopefully, Will would be proven wrong. He did need a consort, after all. Once he had completed his life's work, Mordred fully intended to oust his father as humanity's rightful ruler and get down to the business of having himself an heir. Hopefully with a happier and healthier marriage than either of his parents had ever managed.
"Well, I can't help you there." She shrugged dismissively. "There are no magic beans left. They disappeared while you were still off playing King of Camelot."
"Then what good are you to me?" he snapped before he could stop himself, and then forced a calming sigh. "Forgive me. I am—No, that was simply crass. I apologize."
Whether or not she was "conducting the crazy train" as Will so artfully put it, Mordred knew he should not be impolite to a lady. Particularly one who might turn useful. Zelena knew Storybrooke fairly well, after all; she'd tormented these people for months. She also had a good working knowledge of the new Sorcerer, whom she had actually controlled for a year when he'd been the Dark One. Mordred could use that, but he would not gain her willing and eager cooperation if he was rude.
"No need to apologize." Zelena's huge smile, however, said otherwise. His apology—that of a king!—stroked her ego, and Mordred made a mental note about how easy to flatter she was. "Because…while there may not be magic beans in this pitiful little town, I overheard my dear sister talking about something even more useful."
"Oh? And what would that be?"
"I assume an object enchanted by the Sorcerer would do the trick? That is, one that's been used to open a portal before."
"Definitely." Mordred schooled himself to wait patiently; Zelena was clearly enjoying stretching out the revelation. "What do you know of?"
"The Apprentice's wand." Zelena's eyes gleamed as she wiggled in excitement. "Apparently, they buried it with the sorry old man. My idiot sister let them do that, though she seemed to think—as of a few days ago—that that was a mistake. She was hoping it might do something against the terrible Dark Swan."
Mordred couldn't stop a snort. "It's not powerful enough."
"Not for that, no. But for your purposes?"
Crazy remained to be proven, but Zelena was fairly smart. Mordred would put off the idea of a more personal alliance until later, but for now, the knowledge she possessed would certainly prove useful. Nodding briskly, he rose from his seat. He had no problem using magic to dig the Apprentice up—Merlin's little toady had been almost as insufferable as his master, after all. And Mordred was not a barbarian. He would rebury the man, and no one would be the wiser.
"Let's go."
Mordred was quite possibly the world's most powerful idiot, because only someone who had taken right leave of their brain would ever go somewhere with Zelena. Yet his rescuer had done just that, despite Will's warnings, and it would serve the man right if he turned out to be Zelena's next pièce de résistance. Still, Will had tried to tell him, so it was hardly Will's fault if Mordred didn't listen, was it? And the fact that Mordred was gone—and Morgan was off doing who-knew-what, because that woman mastered mystery like no one else—gave Will an out.
So what if the castle's owner didn't want him to leave? Will Scarlet had one mission in his life, and as far as he was concerned, he'd done as right by Granny as he could. Sticking around in this town was likely to get him killed, and he had a marriage to repair. Maybe he couldn't do it, but that didn't mean he shouldn't try. Watching Belle try to do the same had reminded Will of how very much he loved Anastasia, and what an idiot he'd ever been to walk away. We both thought they were choosing power over us, but maybe it's not that simple, he thought for the thousandth time, slipping out of Mordred's castle. Either way, I'm gonna go home and find out.
Getting through the forest was easy. Will might not have been a Merry Man for very long, but he'd been a thief long before he'd met Robin, which meant he knew the ins and outs of getting around without being seen. It didn't take him long to get to town, either, and his timing was pretty good. Most everyone who was heading to work was already there, and it was too early for lunch. The streets were as quiet as they ever were on a workday, and no one seemed to give Will a second glance as he hurried down Second Avenue, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He knew where he needed to go. Morgan had told him who could draw a portal, and while Will wasn't dumb enough to try approaching the ex-Dark One himself (even if they had worked pretty well together to get Belle's heart back from that steely-eyed Dragon Bitch), but he figured he could ask Belle for help. No matter what happened, he'd always consider her a friend, and Will knew she felt the same for him.
Hell, being friends with her felt a lot nicer than the romance they'd tried to make themselves swallow. That little flirtation had laid heavily on his soul, but Belle was the kind of friend a bloke was lucky to have. So, he ducked into the alleyway behind the pawnshop, skipping around to try the side door before anyone important noticed him.
"Bollocks." The door was locked, which meant he'd have to try the front. But before he even got there, Will could see that the sign was flipped to 'Closed'. There didn't seem to be any lights on inside, either, which meant no one was there.
Turning to his left, he glanced over at the library, but even from across the street, he could see that the 'Be Back Later' sign was out front.
"Where the bloody hell are you, Belle?" he half-whispered, half-whined to himself. "I need your help."
"Have you heard anyone talking about wands, dearest?" his wife asked as she walked into the room, and Arthur turned to face her distractedly. He'd been working on list of those they could trust and those they could bribe; he knew the people from Camelot very well, but the strangers here in Storybrooke would have to be evaluated.
"I haven't seen your sister, if that's what you're getting at."
"No." Gwen—or Danns', he supposed, as she had asked him to call him (an honor Arthur knew had been accorded to very few over many millennium; even Merlin had been reduced to calling her 'Mistress,' by the end)—waved a hand airily. "I don't particularly care what Reul is up to at the moment, so long as no one gives her the Heart."
"We'll find it first," he assured his wife. One of the worst things he had ever seen was this beautiful and implacable woman with her power chained up and at a mere human's whim; granted, her sister fairy, Reul Ghorm, had quickly relieved said humans of the Truest Believer, so that she might control Danns' instead, but seeing her like that had been heartbreaking. And Arthur was not a man much given to emotion, nor to the illusion that his wife was not using him every bit as much as he was using her. "What are you wondering about?"
"My wand was lost during my last exile, if you recall. My sister claimed it, although I heard she lost control of it twice. And I would very much like it back."
"I thought you didn't need a wand to do magic," he protested, trying to recall the incredibly few number of times he'd ever seen Danns' even touch the thing. "Isn't that a hallmark of what makes fae, well fae, and not fairy?"
"It is." She sat across from him, gracefully sinking into a luxurious armchair. There were many things about the so-called modern world that Arthur was not terribly fond of, but he was rather glad for the creature comforts offered here. "But it is a secondary power, and I dislike the thought of it in others' hands. Besides, I do require it for the higher magics. That is, unfortunately, a requirement of my power, as it is for all those born of faerie. Even we Original Faeries."
"Then we shall have to find that as well. How goes your efforts to find other allies?"
They both knew that few enough fae had survived to come to Storybrooke; there were a few, of course, most of whom had worked in the dance studio with 'Widow Morton', but they would need human and contemporary allies, not simply people they had trusted in the past. Arthur would work on the normal humans while Danns' persuaded fairies and magic users to their side, and he dearly hoped she had more success than he had, thus far.
"There are a few possibilities. Did you know there are two dragons here?" She did not smile, but he could see the gleam in her green eyes.
Arthur sat up straight, his heart pounding in his chest. "Dragons?"
"A mother and a daughter. The mother is also a sorceress of note."
"That would be useful, my love." His smile was big enough to stretch his cheeks to hurting. They had started slowly—Arthur was not such a fool that he didn't appreciate how his accidental killing of Snow White had alienated much of Storybrooke—but now the good news was beginning to roll in.
First, they had found Colette's daughter. Neither would ever truly heal from the fact that their stolen daughter had died far too young, but they were eager to get to know Belle. And not only because her husband would make a powerful ally if they could draw him in. She was all they had left of Colette, and while Arthur burned to get his hands on Lancelot and make him suffer for that betrayal, that would not stop him from treasuring his granddaughter. Now, however, if they could add two dragons to their cause, they would have the nucleus of a truly formidable force.
They were going to do it, he knew. Their mission may have failed in Camelot, but soon he would be humanity's greatest and most legendary king—with the Queen of the Fae at his side, and her power to complement his. They both burned for ultimate rule over their kinds, and they both knew they were stronger together.
And when the day comes, we even have an heir, now. Arthur smiled, and reached for his wife's hand to kiss it. Yes, this was everything he had dreamt of…and more.
"The fools are still out there," Killian grumbled, gesturing angrily with his hook in the direction to the crowd that was meeting in the street for the third straight day.
David sighed. He didn't need to look out of the windows to the sheriff's station to know who was out there, and he knew that talking to them (again) would do him no good at all. David had tried apologizing, Regina had tried bullying, and Emma had flat out taken to avoiding them. The anger had spread to much of the town, as well, aside from those people who seemed desperate to avoid the entire issue. Interestingly enough, Ruby—who was certainly the most injured party—stayed away from the grumbling masses, instead burying her pain in running the diner. David, true to his word, was determined not to bother her until Ruby was ready, but his heart still ached when he thought of Snow's friend.
He hadn't forgotten the promise that he'd made himself that morning, though. There had to be a way to help his daughter and do right by the town.
"I know," he said heavily. "They're angry, and they're frightened. They feel betrayed, and I can't really blame them."
"You were simply putting Emma, your daughter, first. They do the same for their own families." Killian glared at the windows, but David shook his head.
"I'm supposed to be better than that. We're supposed to be better than that. There's an entire town out that trusts us—mainly Regina and me, given that she's the mayor and I'm the sheriff—to do the right thing. And we failed them."
"I think you're being too hard on yourself, mate. You're looking at things long-term. Once Emma is herself again, the threat will be gone. Of course that's our highest priority."
He loves Emma, and has no other responsibilities, David had to remind himself before responding. In truth, he was glad that someone was there to always put Emma first. It made shouldering the rest of his responsibilities a little easier. However, Killian's words reminded him of their last conversation, and David decided there was no time like the present to face the music.
"Speaking of which, how is your, uh, project going?" he asked. "You'd said that you were talking to Mordred about how to free Emma from the darkness."
"Ah. That." Killian looked away, seeming…embarrassed? The pirate stared at the floor, scuffing the toe of one boot against the tile. "I realized you were right. It has to be her choice. She's trying so hard. I can't betray that."
David let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "That's good," he whispered. "Have you talked to her about it?"
"Only about a thousand times, all with the same result." The pirate grimaced. "But not lately. I'm leery of the backlash if I do. What do I say to her, anyway? 'Love, I know I said I'd stand by you no matter what, but instead I'm going to demand you change who you are because I like who you used to be better?' That'll go over about as effectively as dropping the anchor on solid rock."
"Since I'm no sailor, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you meant that as a bad thing."
"Heartily."
"I'd suggest just telling her the truth," David said. "In my experience, that's the best method with someone you love."
"Yes, well, your experience doesn't involve loving the Dark One, does it?" Killian snapped, but David could tell that his reaction was a response to stress, and didn't take it personally. He almost opened his mouth to suggest that Killian talk to Belle again, but the pirate gestured angrily at the windows once more, where Leroy and Doc were glaring in at them. "Do those brainless idiots want Emma to go on a rampage again? Because if that's what they want, I own a cell phone."
"Don't be ridiculous."
Killian's expression went dark. "I'm not. That's the sad thing about all of this. I just don't know how to help her, David. I can be there for her and I can hold her, but that's not enough. It's driving me insane."
"Me, too," he admitted quietly. There had to be a way to convince Emma to take this path, didn't there? Perhaps David should talk to Mordred, himself.
Morgan was not one to wander around town. She had done so, just to get her bearings, in the early days of the second curse, but she had quickly lost interest. Morgan had spent so long away from people and society that she found having to socialize with anyone more than her son and Accolon rather wearying, particularly given the fact that there was little way for anyone in this town to relate to a thousand-plus year old sorceress. That did not keep her from watching, however. She had watched the 'Wicked' Witch (whose alliance with Mordred she did not approve of) with amusement, and had been slightly more alarmed by the so-called Snow Queen. She had found the Queens of Darkness a little pitiable, and had been tempted to provide them with some much-needed leadership and guidance until the man who turned out to be her son stepped in.
She had watched the Dark One with interest, never knowing what the drunk had named their son. She couldn't remember the drunk trickster's name, either, only that he'd been interested and available, and Morgan had been desperate for some sort of comfort, hating herself for reaching out as much as for what she had done. She supposed that was a very bad recipe when it came to making a child, but how had the innocent boy she'd once looked in on become the longest lived Dark One ever? Rumplestiltskin's reputation said he was exceedingly clever, which was certainly proven by the fact that he'd had the Author write the darkness completely out of existence in that alternate world. Had the fool Author not gone so far, changing so many fates in such dark ways, the alternative world might even have held and destroyed the Dark One forever.
Unfortunately, the boy who she also felt must be related to her had stopped that, which was an irony Morgan had yet to consider. If he is not related to Killian—which he apparently is not, for all that Killian is the lover of his mother—he must be related to Rumplestiltskin. Morgan stopped cold, contemplating. She had assumed that her son's children might be here, but what was Henry Mills? The boy had two mothers, but neither of them could be related to Rumplestiltskin, or else she would have had four results to her spell, and not three.
"Oof! Sorry, Miss…?"
Looking down, Morgan saw that the person to bump into her had been the very boy she'd just been thinking. Henry's smile was a friendly one, but he clearly didn't recognize her—even though she knew those brown eyes extremely well.
"Morgan," she said with a smile. There was no reason to hide who she was, not now. Not with Arthur and his wife here, that was for sure. "I came with the second curse. I don't really have another name."
"Then sorry, Miss Morgan," the boy said. "I didn't mean to run into you."
"That's quite all right." She had been headed for the pawnshop, but she stayed still to watch as Henry ducked inside. He was greeted with smiles and enthusiasm by her son and his wife—a girl who Morgan knew next to nothing about, save for the fact that she had been the one to exile Rumplestiltskin when the darkness had nearly taken him over.
Ignoring Belle Gold was a mistake she would have to rectify, and soon. But who could she ask for those details without arousing suspicion?
Henry pushed the door to the shop open, still thinking about his encounter with the older woman outside. He didn't think he'd ever seen her before, which was weird for Storybrooke—sure, there were some people around town who weren't really sociable, but Henry knew most everyone else. And he knew who most people were, even if he didn't them often. But "Morgan" was a mystery.
Unfortunately, she was a mystery that he would have to focus on another day. Today, he had a lot more important things to do.
"Hey, Grandpa! Hey, Belle!"
Both turned to face him with a smile, though Belle looked tired and a little sad. It was Rumplestiltskin who answered: "Hello, Henry. What brings you in today?"
"How was Arendelle?" He'd wanted to go, but he knew Emma would have flipped out if he'd asked to go, and besides, he thought that his grandpa and Belle probably deserved a little time by themselves. Henry's other relatives might never have noticed how they always seemed to interrupt those two, but he had.
"It was…good," Belle said slowly, exchanging a glance with Rumplestiltskin. "But it's better to be home."
"I'm not sure you're going to say that when I tell you what's happening," he answered wryly.
Rumplestiltskin's sharp eyes focused on him. "And what's that?"
"A lot of people have been after Gramps about everything that happened with Mom killing Granny." Henry managed to get the words out levelly enough, but he still felt his heart twist around in his chest. "They tried to get the dagger, but Mom—Regina—stopped them and Emma left, but it's only gotten uglier. I think they're coming here to ask you for help."
"Me?" His grandfather looked shocked, and maybe a little alarmed.
"You're the Sorcerer, now. You're not a bad guy anymore."
True to Henry's word, the crowd arrived outside the shop within a few minutes. The very idea of being the one whom the people of Storybrooke came to for help was utterly dizzying, not to mention ridiculous. Rumplestiltskin met them outside the front door, because he wasn't about to have a crazy mob milling about inside his shop, but he still wasn't sure what to do with them. Or himself. Belle, by his side, simply squeezed his hand and gave him a brilliant smile. I'm glad one of us is confident, he thought irritably, but managed not to let his feelings show on his face.
"We need your help." Leroy didn't waste time, at least, and he didn't beat around the bush. Rumplestiltskin could respect that, at least. "The so-called 'Dark Swan' has murdered one person and turned four people into statues. Not to mention turning Scarlet into a cat. Someone's got to stop her, and you seem like you can."
"It's…it's a bit more complicated than that, you realize," Rumplestiltskin replied as calmly as he could. His mind was already whirling; he'd suspected this would be about Emma, and he wasn't entirely sure how to respond. A month ago, the lynch mob would have been complaining about him.
"We don't want her dead," Whale put in. "Everyone knows that would just give us another Dark One."
"Just locked up." Doc pushed his glasses up nervously. "That'll keep everyone safe."
"It won't, actually." Much to Rumplestiltskin's surprise, it was Belle who spoke up. "When a Dark One is controlled—and I assume you want Rumple to get the dagger if any of this is going to work—it only makes them slide towards the darkness even faster."
"What's that matter as long as everyone is safe?" Ah, now Leroy was being as short-sighted as Rumplestiltskin had expected him to be, and he checked a sigh. "It gives everyone a chance to figure out how to get the darkness out of her, and keeps her from killing anyone else."
"Unless the darkness wins," Rumplestiltskin countered, taking a deep breath. He still didn't like sharing his past with these people, didn't like the vulnerability that left him feeling, but in this case, he needed to. "Look, you all saw how I was over the last few months. The darkness was winning; it was starting to control my actions and I couldn't tell which were my decisions and which belonged to the Dark One. That's what happens to every Dark One in the end—the darkness begins to consume them, until someone kills them and the entire cycle starts again. And believe me when I say that you do not want to deal with a Dark One untethered to a human soul. That will make things a thousand times worse than you could ever imagine."
"Yeah, but that took you, what, a hundred years?" That was Princess Abigail, who Rumplestiltskin had not expected to be with this group of reactionaries.
He grimaced. "Three."
"Then we've got time," Leroy shrugged.
"No, we don't. Controlling a Dark One—which would be required in order to keep her locked away—only speeds that process along. Believe me. I know." Rumplestiltskin tried to keep his face expressionless, but he saw several people exchange knowing looks. He couldn't help looking away for a moment, looking towards Belle for support, and she gave him a nod as she squeezed his hand.
That part of my life is over. Now, I need to spare Emma that, he told himself firmly, glancing at Henry. Henry's eyes were full of trust and confidence, as if he was certain that his grandfather could find a way to get these people to leave his mother alone. Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure how he'd come to earn Henry's trust after everything he had done to him, but he was determined to never let Bae's boy down again.
"Look, you have no reason to believe me and no reason to trust me. But the Emma Swan you know—the one you trust—is still in there. She's no demon and she's not suddenly evil. She's fighting off centuries' of darkness, voices and memories you cannot understand. If you're willing to give me the benefit of the doubt right now, she deserves the same. Give her a chance."
"We tried!" Several voices objected at once.
"Look what happened to Granny," Ella spat, glaring at him like it was his fault. "And you still gave her the dagger back."
Well, he'd never much liked this princess, anyway, so Rumplestiltskin didn't mind cutting her off at the knees. "And you've noticed that she's not killed anyone since, haven't you, dearie? We're not talking about someone who chose dark magic. This is a primordial darkness, the sum of human evil wrapped around a very fragile soul. Yes, someone died, and it's a tragedy. But when I gave her that dagger back, it was part of a deal. If Emma can't stop herself, I will take it from her. Until then, however, you need to give her a chance."
Ella's face was red. "What if we don't want to?"
"That's your choice." Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "But you're not going to force me to do your dirty work for you. I know what she is, and I know she can control herself. Give her a chance to prove it."
Henry was practically glowing by the time they got back in the shop; the crowd had dispersed, albeit unhappily, and it didn't look like anyone else was going to get ahold of Emma's dagger anytime soon. Leroy and the others had unhappily acquiesced to Rumplestiltskin's proposal that they wait and see what would happen. It probably helped that Rumplestiltskin was the only Dark One any of them had ever known, and they were accustomed to his self-control. Emma had been unable to stop herself in the beginning, but she did seem to be doing better, which presented a fairly convincing argument on its own, but Belle knew that peace in town hung by a thread.
Back in the Dark Castle, when I was just mooning over my 'monster' and wishing he would fall for me, too, could I ever have imagined this? she asked herself, watching Henry bounce excitedly. Even once she'd married Rumplestiltskin, she had never really grasped the entirety of the man he was beneath the darkness, but now she could see all of him, and she had never loved him more. Belle was a little ashamed to realize that she'd never understood how very selfless her husband could be. Oh, she'd known he was capable of deep love and incredible kindness, but she had rather assumed that his selfish streak was, well, his. Now, however, watching him help others without expecting anything in return was amazing.
The door swung open, making all three turn towards the ringing bell.
"You're arguing on behalf of the Dark One," Belle's grandfather said by way of greeting. "That's an interesting stance, particularly for someone who knows that darkness so intimately."
"Is there a question in that?" Belle could practically hear her husband's stiff posture in his response. She knew he was a little wary of her grandparents, that he viewed their motives with a Rumplestiltskin-esque dose of suspicion, but she disagreed. Not that she wasn't being careful about what she shared until she knew them better, but Belle knew that Rumple wasn't exactly the type to trust quickly.
Arthur shrugged. "Merely an observation. I wouldn't think that someone so acquainted with how dangerous the Dark One is would have given the dagger back, honestly."
"I don't need that power." The simple statement made Belle turn to Rumplestiltskin with a smile; once, he would have gathered any and all power to himself simply out of habit, out of need for more and more power, regardless of how much he already had. But not now. Now he really was different.
"Of course not." Arthur smiled, and started to turn to Belle to say something else, only for Henry to cut in mulishly.
"She's my mom," Henry snapped. "And she's not dangerous unless someone provokes her!"
"Then I hope no one does that."
"Like you." Clearly, Henry hadn't forgiven Arthur for killing his grandmother, but it was Rumplestiltskin who reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.
"Henry," he said softly.
"Sorry, Grandpa." Henry looked at the two of them, his features strained and unhappy. "Can I go?"
Rumplestiltskin nodded, Belle spoke up after giving Henry's arm a squeeze of her own. "Let us know if you need anything, all right?"
"I will." His smile was small, but genuine enough—at least until he looked at Arthur. "Thanks."
All three adults watched the teen go before Arthur asked the inevitable question. "Grandson?"
His wide eyes bored into Belle, and she surprised herself by laughing. "Step-grandson for me." She smiled, finding her grandfather's obvious unease more than a little amusing. "Rumplestiltskin was married a long time ago, centuries before he met me."
"Ah. Of course. Forgive me."
"Family in this town has always been a little confusing," Belle replied, coming around from behind the counter to stand closer to her grandfather. Rumplestiltskin said nothing, but she could sense his unhappiness, though that was probably left over from having had to deal with a large crowd of people more than Arthur's presence. "You get used to it."
"I suppose that, given Gwen's and my own convoluted family trees, I don't have much of a leg to stand on." Arthur smiled crookedly, and then reached out to touch her arm. "We were worried about you, though. You seemed to disappear."
Belle hadn't thought that they'd notice. She'd told her father they were leaving, of course, and she knew Rumple had told Henry, but she wasn't really used to having someone else care where she went. "Rumple and I went on a quick trip to Arendelle."
"Arendelle? Why would you want to go there? And alone?"
There was something imperious in his tone that got Belle's back up; Arthur was looking at her like she was some helpless little woman who wasn't capable of taking care of herself. Belle had intended to tell him the truth—although she preferred to do so with both grandparents at once, so that she wouldn't have to relate the details of her mother's death more than once—but now she hesitated.
"We were hardly alone. I have friends there," she replied stiffly.
"You might have been hurt! Do you have any idea what a valuable hostage you would be?" He stared at her like she was insane. "Crossing realms is dangerous! I can't protect you if I don't know where you are."
Rumplestiltskin made a small growling noise in the back of his throat, but Belle quickly twisted to face him, trying to let him know with her expression that she had this covered. He nodded imperceptibly, and she turned back to face her grandfather.
"I'm not a child that can't appreciate danger." Belle crossed her arms. "And I didn't ask for your protection. This is my life, Grandfather, and I will live it how I choose."
Arthur gawked at her like he'd never seen a woman stand up for herself before, and Belle just waited. Finally, he seemed to gather himself. "Well, you did inherit your grandmother's spine, it would seem."
It wasn't quite an apology, so Belle continued to wait.
"I apologize," Arthur said after another moment. "I was simply worried. Of course you were safe, and I don't seek to rule you. We just—we lost your mother, and neither of us can bear the thought of losing you as well."
That admission made Belle soften. "Well, I'm fine." She smiled. "And perhaps the three of us can get together again soon."
"I'd like that."
Well, that was fascinating. Morgan had not expected to hear her long-lost son—no, abandoned son; Morgan was always truthful with herself, even when the truth was unpleasant—advocating on behalf of the Dark One. Nor had she expected that unruly crowd to let him, but they appeared to have listened, at least. Was Rumplestiltskin so certain that this new Dark One could control herself? Morgan had watched that fight, too, and she'd been impressed, despite not knowing whose lineage from which the new Sorcerer sprang. I cannot tell Mordred, she decided again. Even once I convince Rumplestiltskin—which should be far easier when we can use blood from both of us to prove our relation—I must be careful how I tell Mordred.
Her eldest son was bound to be displeased by this; he already disliked the Sorcerer,and Mordred was livid over the fact that Rumplestiltskin had given the dagger back to Emma Swan. If he knew that Rumplestiltskin was his half-brother…well, it had been Morgan who had stopped him from killing his half-sister once, very long ago. She thought Mordred regretted that lapse, but one could never be certain with her son. He had inherited Arthur's ambition and Arthur's detachment, neither of which served him well when his temper was up.
And speaking of her dear stepbrother, he had just stepped out of the pawnshop. When had hegone inside? Morgan had allowed herself to be distracted by the dragon sorceress and her daughter, who were currently discussing—nay, arguing—something with one of the many princesses who lived in this town. It had been a lively sight, watching the younger dragon take offense at what the princess said to her mother, but Morgan wished she had not allowed her attention to wander. The last thing she wanted was Arthur speaking to her son.
"You're keeping lower company that your ego usually allows for," she commented idly, knowing it would make Arthur turn to face her.
They hadn't seen one another for over eight centuries—although most of those years had passed, for Arthur, in his death-like sleep—and when they had last spoken, they had argued. Again. So, the stepsiblings spent a long moment sizing one another up, remembering their old battles, and neither giving an inch.
"Morgan." He tried to sound cool, but she could hear the anger in his tone.
"Your wife isn't going to be able to bind this Sorcerer to a dagger." Morgan smiled. She knew 'Guinevere's' best trick, now, and she would prevent it. No matter what it took.
She had lost Merlin to Danns' a'Bhàis. She would not lose her son to the Queen of the Fae. Morgan had been unable to save Merlin, for all that she had loved him. Even True Love's Kiss had not been enough, for Merlin had never loved her the way she did him. He'd fallen for Nimue, of course, a sorceress who was younger and prettier than Morgan, for all she could not rival her power. Morgan had been too broken down and worn out for Merlin to invest in more than a brief affair with her, but she had hardly been the only woman who had fallen for his charms, only to lose him. The other married my stepbrother, she thought angrily. Morgan had never been certain if the Black Fairy had chosen to impersonate a human in order to hurt her or Merlin; either way, the ruse had worked.
"Why would we want to?" Arthur's smile was far too satisfied, and looking at it sent a chill down Morgan's spine. "He's married to our granddaughter."
"Your—your what?"
Centuries had passed since someone had caught Morgan so thoroughly by surprise, but she now stared like a lost child. My son cannot be married to the Fae's granddaughter. No. No, this is not possible.
Arthur's smile only grew. "You remember Colette, of course. Our dear daughter who Lancelot stole away—probably with your help." Now his expression grew dark. "Unfortunately, it appears that Colette did not survive to come to this quaint little town, but her daughter did."
Morgan stood frozen, staring numbly as she watched a kaleidoscope of visions tumble through her mind. None of them made sense, and none were wanted, but she got the gist even as she struggled to push them aside. This changed everything. Her own lineage was full of magic, passed down from the Lady of the Lake on one side and Queen Mab on the other. Rumplestiltskin was an original power now that he had inherited Merlin's powers, and yet his wife was descended from one of the three original faeries—the far more powerful of the two remaining!—along with Arthur's own half-fairy parentage. And yet…the Black Fairy had also absorbed her lost sister's powers when the White Fairy had been slain. Perhaps…
"Struck speechless, sister?" Arthur mocked her, leaning in close.
"Don't count your victories yet," she growled. "I know what she wants, and I will not allow it to happen."
"Oh, Morgan. You've always been so optimistic." Arthur laughed. "Your power is all but wasted. Even with Mordred, you can't stand up to two original powers. And we both know you won't ally with Reul Ghorm again, don't we?"
She glared. He was right, of course. Morgan had done the dirty work last time, getting the Heart of the Truest Believer for the Blue Fairy, enabling Reul Ghorm to exile her sister. Then, fool that she was, she had trusted Blue to do right by the eight-year-old girl who was the Truest Believer, only to learn that Blue had locked the poor child in a tower and isolated her from her own kind for three centuries. From what little information Morgan had been able to uncover, the poor child—now a woman of unnatural lifespan, thanks to the fact that her Heart rested inside the powerless Black Fairy's chest—had finally died of old age during the first curse, locked in the convent.
No, she would not ever trust Reul Ghorm again. Just remembering her own role in stealing that poor child made her sick enough.
"I will find a way," she promised softly, but Arthur only chuckled as he walked away, leaving Morgan to stare at her son's pawnshop in despair.
Maybe Arthur is lying, she told herself desperately. Or…perhaps he is telling the truth, but his alliance is not as solid as it seems. I know enough about Belle Gold to know that she seems good and not like a true heir to the Black Fairy, so perhaps that old prophecy of my grandmother's is true. Perhaps the White Fairy's likeness will be born again, not in face but in power. Is it possible that Fionna Rèitear stamped her, not Danns' a'Bhàis? Could her soul come from the White Peacemaker and not the Dance of Death?
Yet Merlin thought that very same power had turned Danns' for the better as well, she remembered. And he was so very wrong.
There was no way to know, but she was far too shaken to try to introduce herself to Rumplestiltskin today. Morgan headed away from the shop on wooden legs, trying to deduce her next step. If Rumplestiltskin was allied with her old enemy, she would have to find a new way to defeat the Black Fairy. Otherwise, everything humanity had fought for might just be lost forever.
A/N: Stay tuned for Chapter Thirty-Seven—"Gone With the Harp's Echo," in which Morgan tries to stop Mordred, Belle and Rumplestiltskin disagree over her grandparents, Will asks Belle for help, Rumplestiltskin eats crow and talks to Whale about the wound in his side, and Mordred uses the gauntlet with devastating effects.
The poll has now been closed, with SwanFire winning with 72.7% of the vote. This doesn't mean that Killian will leave the story or suddenly go out of character; SwanFire will develop slowly, and Killian still has a major part to play. Thank you to everyone who voted!