Away from the village, away from people, and now camped away from the road, Belle felt the fog of terror gradually clear from her mind. Pangs of guilt filled her instead.

Coward, she reproached herself. She should have tried to help. What kind of hero ran away from people who needed her?

You're no hero.

She had magic now. If she didn't use it to fight evil, wasn't that a betrayal of everything she had ever believed?

"I had to protect Gideon. You understand that, don't you?" she pleaded to Hexie.

Pathetic. Talking to a dog because you know she can't answer you. What are you afraid of hearing?

Belle sighed. So what if she had suffered a moment of weakness? She tried to shake off the guilt, promising herself to do better in the future. Right now she had more important things to worry about. Belle remembered the mob of villagers and the accusations of the holy man. She wasn't afraid of their words, but rather, afraid that they would refuse to listen to hers.

And what are your words worth, when their children are attacked?

Very little, she concluded grimly. She resolved to be better prepared the next time she went to the village. She would find a way to defeat the thing that had infected and consumed the butcher's son. She had to prevent it from killing anyone else. Surely there was some magic effective against it.

Even as she ran through a mental list of spells, a distant shriek interrupted her thoughts. Hexie was on her feet instantly, staring out into the twilight, tail stiff and teeth bared. Belle instinctively scooped up Gideon and pulled him close to her chest. "What was that?"

The cry repeated itself, and Belle strained to hear.

Help! Help me! It was a woman's voice, frantic and terrified. Belle started after the sound, but Hexie moved as if to block her. The dog met her eyes steadily, almost in warning.

"Move, Hexie. I have to go," whispered Belle. She nudged Hexie with a knee, but the dog didn't budge. Belle frowned and shuffled around the living obstacle. "We don't have time for this!" She oriented herself again towards the scream and hurried off into the woods, forcing her way through the brush that snagged at her clothes.

It's a trap.

Belle ignored the insidious voice inside her mind. She couldn't be a coward again. It was possible it was a trap. It was also possible that someone was in danger, and she couldn't just ignore that. She mumbled under her breath, "Do the brave thing..."

You're putting your son in danger.

She would be careful. She tightened her grip on Gideon, spells of protection dancing in her mind. She slowed her steps and listened again. The screams had stopped. She might be too late, or—

You fool. It's the oldest trap in the book. There are songs about it!

She peered through the trees, hoping to find whoever it was before twilight turned into full night. As she eased forward, she heard the faint trickle of flowing water. And then a splash. Definitely a splash! Belle rushed forward, caution forgotten, and found...

...a pale, naked figure bathing in a small, bubbling pool — a spring. Belle thought blankly, irrelevantly, It must be freezing in there! Then the figure turned to face her, and all coherent thought fled.

Artemis.

Belle gasped. It wasn't Merida, wasn't Katrine. Bare of illusion, unmasked, the goddess's divine aura was unmistakable. Belle reached at once for the magic to transport herself away, but her concentration collapsed under the glowing-eyed stares of a dozen sleek white hounds, their ears as red as fresh-spilled blood. They had appeared from nowhere to surround her in a wide circle.

The goddess pirouetted in a cloud of sparkling silver, her hunter's garb wrapping itself back around her. Then she drew an arrow from the quiver on her belt and lifted her bow with sadistic leisure. She met Belle's gaze with a smile that promised death.

Frantic, Belle struggled to assemble her escape spell, but the hounds' eyes drove away darkness. All her power dissipated under that blinding assault.

"So, the Dark One's mate is brought to bay at last. I knew you couldn't stay hidden forever, despite that trinket you wear." Artemis eyed the brooch on Belle's cloak.

Belle flinched. Her panicked surge of magic earlier that day had been as good as a beacon to the Huntress. A rough location was all that Artemis needed, when a simple ploy was enough to draw her quarry into the open. She swallowed her fear, and said with as much dignity as she could, "Kill me, then."

Artemis chuckled. "Perhaps it is not your death I am here for."

"Don't toy with me!" Anger darkened her vision, and Belle thought about fire, but her magic had gone thin and insubstantial. She was powerless. "What do you want?"

"Any man who looks upon my unclad form must pay the price," said Artemis. "Such is the law. His life is forfeit." She nocked the arrow and aimed it at Gideon — who was indeed awake and staring with childish curiosity at the goddess.

"What? No!" Belle's blood ran cold. She tried to turn, to shield her son at least, but found herself paralyzed. "No, you can't. He's... he's just a baby. Hardly a 'man'!"

"He is twenty-eight summers old."

And that was technically true, Belle realized in horror. With the force of divine law behind her, Artemis's power was absolute. Gideon would be executed for an innocent transgression. "Please. Not my son. No... no. You're supposed to be a goddess. Where is your divine compassion? This isn't even... it's not even justice, murdering an innocent baby!"

Artemis regarded her coldly. "The law is clear. But I am not without mercy."

Despite herself, Belle felt a flicker of hope. "What... what mercy?"

"Give him to me, and his life may be spared."

"What? No!"

Artemis continued inexorably, "Reul Ghorm holds the Shears of Destiny. If she cuts your child free of his name and fate, I would have no claim over him. Raised under her guidance, he would be free of the darkness that taints you."

An image of Mother Superior's haughty, disapproving smile hovered in her mind. What fate would the fairy then bind Gideon to? Appalled, Belle clung to her son, her own tension making him squirm and whimper. "No."

"It is his best chance. Come. I will deliver the child to her."

"No," Belle said again, more weakly. Her heart sank. If this was the only way to save his life — but it would be the worst kind of betrayal. And she knew she couldn't do it. She scrabbled futilely at the threads of her magic. "Never. I'm his mother. I will always be his mother. I'll die before I let you take him from me."

"From your own mouth you have said it. So be it!" Artemis drew the arrow back and loosed it, her motion almost too quick to follow.

Belle threw herself towards the ground, trying to wrench her body free, but the magical compulsion held. She barely stirred aside an inch, and the arrow was too fast—

Time slowed. A blurry shape interposed itself between Belle and the gleaming point of the divine arrow...

...and plowed into the ground a moment later in an explosion of leaf litter.

Belle blinked in shock as time resumed its normal pace. The shape stilled, resolved itself into— "Hexie!"

The dog emitted a low growl, then lurched back to her feet, shaking with enough vigor to shrug off the leaves and dirt, but not the arrow embedded in her left shoulder.

Out of the corner of her eye, Belle saw that Artemis seemed just as amazed. But she had no time to wonder, because Hexie had reared back on her hind legs, her body elongating oddly. And then she shrugged off her form like a cloak, revealing an old, old woman underneath. She had wispy gray and white hair the same color as her fur had been, a wrinkled dark face, and hands like talons — one pushing back the dog skin while the other plucked the arrow from her flesh. The tip dripped with blood.

"You!" Artemis burst out at last. "You're dead. You broke the Accord."

Belle gaped, not understanding any of this. She still couldn't move, and now she couldn't even speak. It was as if all the meaning had drained out of her words.

"Yes," croaked the old woman in a hoarse rasp. "And I... was punished for it." She paused for breath, then continued, "But you've shed my blood." She held up the arrow. "Now you've broken the Accord. Your life is forfeit."

"I...I didn't mean... it was an accident," stammered Artemis. She stumbled back in shock. Her hounds wavered in and out of reality. "Have mercy!"

"The same mercy you offered?"

Artemis turned pale. "No." But despite her protest, she stood as if mesmerized when the old woman closed the distance between them.

"Shh. Hush. This is your fate." The old woman reached up with the blood-stained arrow and touched it to Artemis's cheek. Belle felt her guts wrench, as if some force had been pulled out of her, and then she had to blink. A flash of light burned against her eyelids, and when she opened them again, Artemis was gone. So were her hounds. A gleaming golden hind leaped away into the woods.

Belle opened her mouth to ask, but no question emerged.

The old woman answered her anyway, "She's spent one age of the world as the hunter. Let her spend the next one as prey." She opened her gnarled fingers, letting the spent arrow dissolve in a shower of dust.

At first all Belle could feel was relief. Gideon was safe. Then fear caught up with her again and she inhaled sharply, her eyes turning back to the old woman who had been 'Hexie'. Who, and what, was she? What did she want? Shaky-legged, Belle stumbled back, released from her paralysis now that Artemis was gone. She leaned heavily into a tree, fumbling for a protection spell, but her magic felt weak, exhausted. What had the woman done to her? Why?

"Peace, child, I mean you no harm." The old woman turned and hobbled over towards Belle. "Your son is in no danger from me."

Belle nodded, but still no words came out. Alarmed, she touched her lips.

"Fear not. Your loss is temporary." The old woman sighed. "I am a dead woman walking, voiceless and powerless. Hence..." She gestured between herself and Belle. "Needs must. I call upon the ancient ties."

What ancient ties? Belle wondered in confusion. Was the woman a witch of some kind? Or some enchanted animal, a shapeshifting dog — maybe a type of werewolf? Or something far more powerful? She suspected the latter.

The old woman eyed Belle, then nodded decisively. "Well. My debt to you is paid. I thank you for the opportunity."

Opportunity? What? Why? The old woman had saved her, saved Gideon. In return for Belle's intervention when the villagers had meant to kill 'Hexie'? But what kind of debt was that? Surely someone who could defeat Artemis was under no threat from mortals with sticks and stones?

The old woman seemed to sense Belle's confusion, and something darker surfaced in her eyes. "As I say, I am a dead woman. Artemis's arrow spilled the last drop of living blood from my veins. My means of action are... limited. But you will do."

Do what? Before the old woman could elaborate, a cloud of dark smoke swirled behind her. Belle caught an impression of too many sharply- angled limbs, and then a man's form solidified.

"Mother!"

The old woman whirled. "Spider?"

"Mother," the man repeated, his voice thick and his eyes glistening with tears. He caught the old woman in an embrace. "I didn't think I would ever see you again."

The old woman patted the man called Spider — her son? — on the back. "My dear boy. One last meeting at the end."

"But you told me... not in this life."

The old woman sighed. "Indeed not. What makes you think I am alive?" Before Spider could answer, the old woman swayed, falling limp in her son's arms, as if all the breath had gone out of her.

"Mother!" Spider tottered back a step, then lowered both of them to the ground gently. "No. No, no."

But it was as the old woman had said: she was dead, her death held in abeyance until now by some magic Belle didn't understand. Belle was seized by a desperate longing to flee, to leave this madness behind. She felt a stirring of darkness within her and knew that whatever force had stopped her before was no longer in effect.

Take Gideon and run!

She couldn't. Not again. Not in the face of such grief. Not when the dead woman had saved her, saved Gideon.

She saved you for her own reasons. You cannot trust them — they're dangerous!

Belle took a deep breath, then forced herself to approach Spider. To her relief, her voice had been restored along with her access to magic. "I'm sorry. She... your mother saved my son's life. If there's anything I can do for you—"

Spider turned sharply, pinning Belle with his gaze. "There is."

Belle involuntarily fell back a step, unnerved by the intensity in his eyes. "Wh-what?"

"I need you to save them." At Belle's questioning gaze, Spider turned his face aside, but not quickly enough to hide the guilt on his face. "I...I've done something terrible and it can't be undone, but you...you can still save them."

"Save who? What are you talking about?"

"I brought the Nyx to this realm." He looked down at the dead woman, his own hands wrapping around hers. "My mother said... she foresaw... but I was the one who opened the gates and set them loose. The demons of night."

The demons of night. Was that what had taken the butcher's son? Belle remembered the unnatural miasma of darkness that had clung to the child, and then his father. The Nyx? Anger rose like bile in her throat. "You set them loose? Why?"

Spider refused to meet her gaze. He said in a low voice, "I was commanded to. And I am sworn to obey him — Zeus."

"Zeus? Why would Zeus...?" Belle was aghast at the idea, but she could hear the truth in Spider's voice. The king of the gods was sending demons to kill children?

"Think of him as a shepherd driving his flock back into the fold, and the Nyx as his dogs."

"The boy died!" Belle hissed in outrage. Sheepdogs didn't kill the sheep they herded. No, she refused to accept any such benign analogy. This was the act of an extortionist willing to murder a few to intimidate the rest.

"And more will die, until enough prayers reach Mount Olympus to pay the price of heaven's intervention," said Spider, confirming her thought. "Only then will Zeus send his thunderbolts to drive the Nyx from the earthly realm."

"That's horrible." Belle glared at Spider. "You have to do something."

"I can't." Spider's gaze dropped in shame. "I am bound by the Accord not to oppose him. That's why it has to be you."

"Me?" Belle shook her head. "I... I saw it. The Nyx. I didn't know how to stop it. I think it wanted... wanted Gideon."

"Yes, it would." Spider reached inside his coat, retrieving something Belle couldn't see. His fingers twisted around the object. "I can't interfere directly, but if you permit, I can give your son my blessing. That will protect him from the Nyx."

Can you trust this stranger?

His mother had given her life to save them. Why would his son betray her sacrifice? Belle swallowed her doubts and nodded. "Yes. I would like that. Thank you." It was only when Spider had one hand resting on Gideon's forehead and his other ready to sprinkle some invisible "blessing" that it occurred to Belle to catch Spider's wrist mid-air. "Wait."

Spider paused, cocking his head at her. "What? It won't harm him, I swear it."

"If this can protect my son, can't it also protect all the other children?"

"Ah." After a moment, Spider shrugged. "That, I couldn't say. It's powerful, but whether it can spread so far? If you want to risk it..."

You can't! You have to protect Gideon.

She looked down at her son. He smiled back at her, eyes sparkling and innocent. Surely she had to save him first. How could that be wrong? Wasn't that what Gideon would want his mother to do? Then she swallowed, forcing herself to think. Magic always came with a price. As did selfishness. Or her stories were all lies, and she a hypocrite. No, a hero would protect everyone. Wouldn't she?

Before she could change her mind again, terrified that she was making another mistake, Belle rushed out the words, "I'll risk it. I have to try."

"As you wish." His tone was neutral, but his eyes glinted as if she had passed some unstated test. This time, when Spider sifted the blessing through his fingers, Belle could see the tint of magic coloring the specks of dust falling onto Gideon. As he worked, he explained to her how it would be held in reserve in her son's soul and how it could be shared with another.

Once she was sure she understood the technique, Belle thanked him again.

Spider nodded. "It's what she would have wanted."

"What will you do now?"

Spider sighed heavily. "What can I do?" He knelt by the dead woman and took her hand. "I'm going to bury my mother."

"Oh. Of course." Belle swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

"It was her time." Spider looked up at Belle, and for a moment he seemed to smile. "She chose this. Chose you. And... you haven't disappointed us so far." Then he gestured, and he and his mother vanished in a cloud of black smoke.

Not wanting to waste more time trudging from place to place (how far had the infection spread?), and knowing that her most powerful hunter was gone, Belle transported herself magically back to the village she had fled earlier. It was full night by now, but she found the butcher's shop dark and silent. The interior was empty, lamp and hearth unlit. All that was left behind was a lingering sense of dread, a dark spoor that Belle realized she could trace.

She followed it to a farm on the outskirts of the village. The trail led into a meadow. It wasn't until she tripped over a wooden marker and the soft crumble of freshly dug dirt that she understood. They hadn't let the butcher bury his son on hallowed ground. But why here? Not wanting to let any more lives be lost to misunderstandings, Belle hid herself under an obfuscation charm and went to the farmhouse to suss out the situation before revealing herself.

She walked into a tangle of grief, misery, and angry recrimination. The butcher was there — lost, silent, and forgotten — a dark lump hunched over a stool in the corner. The Nyx had taken its toll from him, then moved on. Another child now lay ill in the bed in the loft upstairs, while the mother blamed her husband for his compassion. She sat at a work bench with a basket of mending, needle barely pausing as she berated him.

"You let him across this threshold. He's cursed, unclean." The farmwife's strident voice barely hid an undercurrent of fear. "I went to the temple to pray for our family, but you... you let evil in at the front door."

"He's my brother," protested the farmer. "The boy was my nephew. I couldn't turn them away."

"And now our daughter lies dying," hissed the farmwife. "Thank the gods her brother and sister were with me at the temple."

The farmer sighed. "They'll be safe enough at your sister's house."

"And what about our Gretchen? We must take her to the temple!"

The farmer glanced at his brother, then back at his wife. He said in a low voice, "We can't. The priest won't help us. He'll condemn her as he did my nephew. He wouldn't even let the body be buried on sacred ground!"

"We'll make him help."

"He's already painted the witch mark on our wall."

"Then we'll go ourselves, make our pleas directly to Olympus. The Great Mother loves all our children. She will listen!" She grabbed her husband by the hands and made as if to drag him to the door.

The farmer stayed stubbornly in place, pulling her back. "She didn't listen to Jakob, did she? We have no money or power, only this little patch of dirt. The gods hear the prayers of kings and priests. Curse them, I say, if they won't save a little boy."

"Then what, we give up? Never. We'll find someone."

"The healer's already seen her. She said she could do nothing. Only told me to give Gretchen such comfort as we are able." The farmer sighed and dropped his hands. "Please, let's not quarrel. If..."

"No. Don't say it."

The farmer nodded.

This conversation wasn't going to end well. This night wasn't going to end well. Belle reminded herself to be brave, and stepped back outside to knock on the door, dropping her concealment. When the farmer answered the door, she introduced herself as a traveling healer. "I heard that there is a sick child in this house." She jerked her chin back, suggesting sources back in the village. "As you see, I'm a mother myself. I only want to help. May I?"

The farmer glanced down at Gideon's face, then back at Belle. Finally, he stepped aside and nodded, gesturing at her to come in. "Thank you."

The farmwife had risen from the bench, needlework forgotten. Hope and suspicion warred in her gaze. "Who are you? Were you sent by the gods? Or—" She made the sign against evil. "—are you one of the fey come to ensnare us?"

"Gods." Belle huffed at the irony. She shook her head, but then another thought stilled her. "Sent by the gods? Perhaps I was." Though they never said as much, 'Hexie' and her son must have been of that kindred. In retrospect, it was obvious. "And I have no plans to ensnare anyone, but..."

"You're fey!" The farmer grabbed at the axe balanced by the door and swung it up awkwardly. "Get out!"

Belle retreated a step. "No, I only meant—" She took a careful breath, holding the darkness locked down. She didn't want to scare these people with magic, but she didn't want to lie to them, either. "The gods who sent me aren't the ones worshipped in temples, and what does it matter what race I am?"

"Not worshipped in temples? Is it demons, then?" The farmwife made the sign against evil again. "I'll not let you take my Gretchen's soul!"

"I'm trying to protect her from demons!" Belle pleaded. "I'm a mother, too. I know you're afraid, because I'm afraid, too. What if something happened to my son and I couldn't help him? That's why... that's why I'm here. I think I can help your daughter."

The couple hesitated. They glanced at each other, then briefly at the butcher, who had not moved or spoken in all this time. He had shown no flicker of recognition at Belle's appearance, but when Gideon babbled softly, the butcher turned his head towards them.

"Too late," he mumbled. "Too late, too late."

"Shut up," hissed the farmwife. "Don't say that. It's bad luck." She turned back to Belle. "And you. Who are you? You talk and talk. Were you the storyteller? The one who cursed our village?"

"I didn't! No matter what your priest told you, I came here for the sake of peace."

"Why should we believe you?" countered the farmer.

"Look, I understand your fear. I'm a stranger. How can you trust me?" Belle remembered her own doubts about Spider. You still can't be sure... "Fear can save your life, but it can also be a trap. Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith."

The farmwife scowled at her, but something seemed to shift in her eyes. She touched her husband's arm, nodding at him to lower the axe. "Fine. I'll trust you with my child if you trust us with yours."

No!

An image flashed through Belle's mind — a sharp metal hook pressed to Gideon's neck. Her own father couldn't be trusted, much less these strangers. Then her own words returned to her, and she winced at her own hypocrisy. Was it a foolish risk, or a necessary leap of faith? Belle still could not be sure of the difference.

The farmwife saw Belle's hesitation, and her face shuttered as suspicion rekindled. She barked in bitter triumph, "Ha. I knew it. You stay away from my daughter, witch."

The farmer glanced at his wife anxiously. He whispered, "But... what if she really can help? You said we should find someone."

The farmwife's hand tightened on her husband's arm. "She found us. You think that's a coincidence?"

"I followed the trail of the demon." Belle bit her lip, not sure how to allay their suspicions. Except—

You can't put Gideon at risk again!

She was asking them to put their daughter at risk. How fair was it to ask them to trust her when she didn't trust them?

It's your son, not some abstract principle, at stake here.

But she had told Spider she had to protect all the children. She could hardly back out now at the first sign of difficulty. Or was she plunging headlong into another disaster? She knew she hadn't always trusted the right people, but she also knew that the darkness could push her too far into paranoia. Yet it wasn't always wrong. If she ignored its warnings, she could be putting them all in danger.

And if she stood here paralyzed by indecision, the farmer's daughter would die whether Belle reasoned her way to the optimum choice or not.

"All right. I'll trust you." In the end, she couldn't abandon anyone's child to suffer such a dark fate. And once introduced, they were no longer strangers.

"I'm called Lise," said the farmwife as she took temporary custody of Gideon. "This is my daughter, Gretchen."

Gretchen lay asleep in the loft. She had not wakened even to her parents' raised voices earlier. The same unnatural miasma hung over her as had consumed the butcher's boy. Belle moved closer, preparing to share Gideon's protection with Gretchen.

"Mistress Belle, wait." It was the farmwife again. "Magic doesn't come cheaply. What's the price of your help?"

Belle paused, troubled. Fool. You leaped into this blind. As usual. She bit back the thought and answered, "I can't be sure, but I promise it's no more than what I pay, to protect my own child." She glanced uneasily at Gideon, resting peacefully enough in Lise's arms. "If there is a price for your daughter, it is the same for my son."

Lise nodded. She said, her voice now barely above a whisper, "Save her."

Belle tried.

It didn't work. It didn't work.

"So. It was you who cursed us, after all." Lise's eyes glittered with tears and her voice cracked as she spat her accusation at Belle. "Don't toy with me, witch! Remember I have your son." And her arm tightened around Gideon's neck...

"No!" Belle reached out reflexively, but she stopped herself with an effort. "No. I swear, I didn't. I know there's a way to save your daughter. I just need to think!"

To her relief, they backed down, giving her the moment she had asked for. She couldn't concentrate, not when the farmwife had her son in her grip, held too tightly to extract without hurting him. Held too tightly. "That's it. The Nyx, the demon, is wound too tightly around your daughter's soul — feeding. The spell will only bind the creature to her. I have to go into the dreamscape and try to separate them."

Easily said, less easily done, but Belle remembered enough of Rumple's spell to recast it from the memory etched in her own soul. She dove headfirst into the dream to find the girl, Gretchen.

Instead, Belle herself became lost.

The Nyx was all around her, a creeping hunger against her skin. A clammy fog insinuating itself into her thoughts, it fed on her hopes, her future...

She couldn't find the child anywhere. Instead, it was Gideon who found her. He appeared out of the fog, wreathed in fire, his form that of the child she and and Rumple had once summoned to the burning room of the Sleeping Curse. "Mama!"

"Gideon! What are you doing here?" Belle rushed to embrace him. The clinging miasma fell away from them in rivulets of darkness. Spider's gift had worked, then. Her son was protected. Weak with relief, she held him tightly. "Go back, baby. It's not safe here."

"I came to help you, Mama."

"Oh, Gideon." Guilt moistened her eyes. "You're just a child, you don't have to..."

"I want to help," the boy insisted. He showed her his hands, hands bright with flames. "See? I can help you fight the demon thing."

He could, she realized. Together, they could slash this darkness apart and drive it away in shreds. "You're right. Gideon..." She lifted her head and glared out into the void. But then she remembered. "We can't. That little girl is still lost somewhere in there. If we hurt the darkness, we'll hurt her, too. She'll die."

"Oh." Gideon's face fell. "Can't you find her?"

"I've been trying," Belle said. She shut her eyes, ashamed to let her son down with her failure. "But I... I can't. The Nyx is hiding her. I can't sense her anywhere."

"Oh," Gideon repeated. Then he tugged at her sleeve until she opened her eyes again. "What about Papa? Can't he help us?"

Now she really wanted to cry. "Gideon... no. Your papa is..." She choked on the words. "He's... I know he wants to help, but he can't be here right now, ok?"

"That's because you have to call him first," Gideon explained innocently.

"It's not that easy."

"He has to come, because the little girl is lost," Gideon insisted. "If you summon Papa in her name, no matter what bonds are on him, he has the right to answer the call."

"What?" Belle was shaken out of her dark thoughts by bewilderment. It almost sounded like Gideon was quoting back a lesson. But neither she nor Rumple had ever said anything like that before, so— "What do you mean? Who told you that?"

"My grandmother," Gideon answered, as if it were obvious. "She told me. The Black Fairy answers the calls of lost children. But she died, and Papa is her son, so he's the Black Fairy now."

Belle's jaw dropped, speechless at her son's bold assertion. Could he be right? The Black Fairy had taken lost children. As had Peter Pan. Could they have chosen to help them, instead? Rumple wasn't like his parents. He had always protected children, hadn't he? It just hadn't occurred to Belle that it could be an actual magical part of his bloodline. She remembered the Blue Fairy telling her that the Black Fairy had been meant to protect children. Had that been the truth? In retrospect, so much else had been a lie — the Blue Fairy manipulating her to interfere in that first re-union between mother and son — that Belle had put it all out of her mind. "But your papa isn't... is he even a fairy? He's the Dark One. He always said that his magic didn't mix well with fairy magic!"

"Papa can do it," Gideon said with a child's confidence. "I saw him."

"You saw him?" Belle asked faintly.

"In dreams."

"And this is a dream, now. Right." Belle thought it over. If Gideon was right — she hardly dared to hope — she had to try. "Well, here goes..."

Gideon squeezed her hand in encouragement. "Use both their names, Mama." As if she were the novice, he explained solemnly, "Magic is more powerful when you use names."

So it was with a huff of laughter that Belle finally called out to the void, "Rumplestiltskin! Rumplestiltskin, in Gretchen's name I summon thee! Rumplestiltskin!"

Author's notes: Taking more liberties with mythological figures. Hercules was supposed to have captured the Golden Hind in his labors, but we can just pretend it was a different one, or time travel was involved, or there's always the hunter and the hunted, and they periodically switch roles.

Headcanon: Rumple had to use that fairy invocation in 6.09 ("Changelings") because he didn't know his mother's real name. But I'm still not sure what the Blue Fairy's deal was in that episode, canonically.