Chapter Thirty-Eight—"This Squalid Destiny"
Emma didn't know where to go. Her first instinct was to go to Regina; she was Henry's other mother, and she knew a lot about magic. But if Emma's magic couldn't open that door, Regina's wouldn't be able to, either, because Emma was more powerful. And power mattered; she remembered how skillful and powerful Mordred was, particularly now that her temper was under tight control. I can't save Henry if I freak out, she told the darkness firmly, willing it to be silent. Oh, she'd give it what it wanted, but not yet. First, she needed to get to wherever Henry had gone.
And for that, she needed the Sorcerer.
Decision made, Emma teleported herself straight into his house. She landed in the library because she'd been there before, ignoring the telltale shiver of magic that ran through her as she bludgeoned her way through his wards. They weren't designed to keep me out, she realized with surprise. Was he expecting her?
"Emma. What are you doing here?" Rumplestiltskin stood in the doorway, clad in nothing but trousers and a button-down shirt, and looking surprised. For a moment, Emma's mind goggled at the fact that she'd only seen him without the jacket and tie when he'd been stabbed and poisoned, but she quickly got over that.
"Mordred took Henry!"
"He what?" Magic reverberated through the air, heavy and dangerous, and part of Emma utterly sang with joyous fury.
"He took Henry," she repeated in a snarl. "Through some doorway, a portal or something. I couldn't go through and I couldn't see where it went, but he took him."
Don't trust him, the darkness whispered. Kill him and take his power. Then you can save the boy. For a moment, Emma wanted to listen; Rumplestiltskin had taken the dagger from her—but he had also given it back. Shut up, she told the darkness. He's Henry's grandfather. He'll help me for Henry's sake.
I think he already has.
The darkness didn't like that at all, but Emma managed to ignore it as her son's grandfather twitched his fingers, making magic she couldn't quite identify shoot out of the room. Then he nodded briskly. "Take me to the door."
Emma didn't bother to ask; she simply swept him up with her magic as well, teleporting Rumplestiltskin with her. He grimaced as they landed inches away from the door, but didn't complain, instead running his hand over the wood in silence. He studied the doorway, eyes narrowed, but Emma couldn't feel him doing anything. Rumplestiltskin was just standing there like some damned fascinated scholar while Henry was in danger!
"Well?"
"The door leads to the Enchanted Forest," he said slowly. "But it's warded."
"I could have told you that. I couldn't get through it. That's why I came to you." Emma glared.
"Even if you could have broken the wards, you wouldn't have made it through. The Dark One is…repelled by the Sorcerer's magic, and this portal was created by the Apprentice's wand." Rumplestiltskin snorted out a humorless laugh. "Believe me, no one knows better than I that a Dark One cannot get through a portal created by the Sorcerer's magic unless the Sorcerer allows it."
"You're the damned Sorcerer," she spat. "Unless you were lying about that."
He wasn't, though. The darkness in Emma knew that, recognized its old enemy. She was just too angry to care about what she said. Too worried. Her chest was tight and everything was wrong, because Henry was in danger. She had to get to him. Had to save him. She didn't know what Mordred wanted, but if he wasn't going to let her get to Henry—
Kill him. Kill them all.
"Calm yourself, Miss Swan. I—"
"Take the damn wards down so we can get through!" she snarled, her hand reaching out—almost on its own—to grab Rumplestiltskin by the front of the shirt and shake him. Hard.
"Enough." His hand clamped down on her wrist, and she felt him using magic to break her grip. But Emma let him, still seething. "I'm not going to open this portal. Do you think me mad? There's no knowing what traps Mordred might have laid on the other side."
The words burst out of her uncontrollably. "We have to get to Henry!"
"Of course we do," he agreed. "And we'll go, but not through this portal. I'll draw us another one."
"Another?" Emma eyed the existing door warily. She could break through those wards with enough time. She could call Regina and they could do it together. Maybe trusting Rumplestiltskin was a bad idea. He'd never been exactly honest, and although some of that had been the darkness, he was still a smart and tricky bastard. He might mean exactly what he said, and then leave her here. Or there. Who was to know what he might do?
"As you said, I am the Sorcerer." Brown eyes met hers, and Emma tried to calm her raging worry. "Henry is my grandson, Emma. I will not let anyone endanger him," he said softly. "We'll find him together, and then bring him home."
"Why should I trust you?" she whispered, her voice tiny.
"Because I lost my son through a portal to another realm when he was only a little older than Henry is now. I will not let the same happen to my grandson."
Regina was walking out of the library when her phone rang. She answered without even looking at the number. "Hello?"
"It's Jefferson," came the unexpected answer.
"What are you—"
"Grace and Henry were hanging out in the park, and she says some strange man came up with a metal gauntlet and grabbed Henry. She didn't know who he was, but I think it was Mordred."
Regina almost dropped her phone. "What?"
"She says they went through a door," Jefferson confirmed. "I don't know anything else, but I wanted to call you as quickly as I could."
"Thanks," she whispered, feeling cold and afraid. Regina hung up the phone mechanically, and then hit Henry's speed dial. Please let Grace be wrong. One ring. Please let her be wrong. Two rings. Henry's going to answer and everything's going to be fine.
Three rings.
And then four.
"You've reached Henry Mills. Either I can't answer the phone because I'm in Camelot, or Mom grounded me and took my phone after she heard my voicemail message. I'll call you back when I can. Bye!"
Regina hung up and called again. The phone went straight to voicemail.
"No," she whispered, this time the word tumbling out verbally. "No, this can't be happening."
"Regina?" Belle's voice came from behind her.
She called again, and one, two, and then four rings later, Henry's cheerful voicemail message picked up. Regina almost threw the phone against the wall in frustration. "Henry's gone," she whispered.
A hand landed on her arm, surprisingly gently, as Belle asked: "What happened?"
"Jefferson—that was Jefferson who called. He said Grace saw Mordred take Henry through a portal, or a door…God, I didn't even ask where in the park they were. And I don't know what the hell Mordred would want with my son! I'm such an idiot!"
"You're not an idiot. And I think I can help with what happened."
Surprised, Regina twisted to face Belle, not sure she'd heard properly. Yes, Rumple's little sweetheart had magic now, but she was utterly untrained and—was that a magical note of some sort she was holding in her hands? Regina snatched it. "What's this?"
"It just appeared. It's from Rumple."
Quickly, Regina read the magically-drawn script, her heart hammering wildly in her throat. She'd seen Rumplestiltskin's handwriting enough times to recognize its magical counterpart, but the words did little to make her feel better.
Belle—Mordred took Henry to another realm. I've followed with Emma. I hope to be back soon. Stay safe. Love you, R.
"This is next to useless," Regina growled.
"No, it isn't." She looked up and was startled to see the determination in Belle's eyes. "If we can find the door, between the two of us, I'm sure we can get it open."
"I don't need help from you with magic," she snapped reflexively.
Belle rolled her eyes. "With all due respect, you've got plenty of power, but if it's a doorway, it's the Sorcerer's magic—or at least the Apprentice's. And which one of us has been reading those books alongside Rumple for the last month?"
Regina had to admit that she had a point. Without saying so, of course. "Fine. Let's go."
She didn't wait for permission; Regina just teleported herself and the librarian straight to the park, and started calling Henry's phone again so that she could hear it ringing.
The door shimmered into existence a few feet away, nearly identical to the one Mordred had used the Apprentice's wand to create, though darker in color. Rumplestiltskin had used his will to shape its destination, reaching beyond what he could sense with his own magic and into a realm he had once been so very desperate to leave. His door mirrored Mordred's, but it grew blacker around the edges, quickly becoming an inverse of the other door. Rumplestiltskin twitched his fingers, tying the magic off, and reached for the doorknob.
"Take my arm."
"What?" Emma looked at him like he was crazy, her hazel eyes narrowed and dark. Clearly, everything within her was rebelling against the idea of touching him, though he wasn't sure if it was the Dark One's hatred of the Sorcerer at play or Emma's own feelings.
"What you are disagrees with the Sorcerer's magic. I can build the doorway so that you can get through, but it will be easier if we are in contact."
"Fine. I don't have time to argue with you. My son is in danger." Emma grabbed his arm roughly, but Rumplestiltskin didn't object. Emma had a point. The longer they waited, the more danger Henry was in.
"Let's go." He pulled the door open, and they stepped through together.
The same strange feeling of walking through water engulfed him for a moment, and then they were through. Emma made a small noise of discomfort, hissing irritably, and then yanked her hand away from his arm. Rumplestiltskin paid her no mind—nor did he bother remarking on the fact that Emma's skin was going gray-gold, spreading outwards from her hands and upwards toward her face. Instead, he lifted his left hand, and snapped his fingers, aiming a quick spurt of magic over his shoulder.
The door disappeared, and Emma jumped.
"Where the hell did it go?"
"It's hidden. I don't want anyone following us through and bumbling aimlessly around the Enchanted Forest."
"Good idea." Emma arched an eyebrow at him. "Speaking of which, are you going to go tromping around this place in slacks and a dress shirt or—what the hell?"
She'd noticed her skin, finally.
"What the hell is this? What's wrong with me? I'm—I'm…"
"Like I was?" He managed not to smile, and Emma just nodded, her eyes wide and horrified. "You're the Dark One. This is the Enchanted Forest." Rumplestiltskin gestured at her meaningfully.
"And that means—oh, God, yeah, it does. How bad do I look?"
Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "I'd say you look fairly normal, but I'm hardly the person to ask."
She glared for a moment, but Rumplestiltskin just met her eyes. Then he concentrated for a moment, twirling his right hand just so, and a quick swirl of golden smoke surrounded him. The sheer power of it made Rumplestiltskin shiver; magic was still different in Storybrooke, albeit not as much as it had been in the beginning. Yet there was a slight lessening of magic in Storybrooke, and for him, even a tiny percentage of an increase in his reachable magic was…extraordinary. Fortunately, he spell he'd used was simple enough that it didn't escape his control, and Rumplestiltskin wound up clothed in exactly the outfit he wanted.
"Well, I suppose that's more practical than the five hundred buck trousers and designer shirt," Emma commented, eying his brown leather pants, blue silk shirt, leather vest and coat. "Now, can we go find Henry?"
"No. Not we, anyway," he added when she started to snarl at him. "You go ahead. See what Mordred wants. I'll follow. It's probably best that he doesn't see us together."
"And why should I trust that you won't just abandon me here?"
Rumplestiltskin turned calmly to look her in the eye. "Either you trust me or you don't, Emma. Your call."
They had found Henry's phone, which led Belle and Regina to a doorway that simply had to lead to the Enchanted Forest. Belle had used her newfound knowledge of magic to help Regina determine which parts of the door were Mordred's defenses and which were part of the door itself (and therefore not to be destroyed, unless they really didn't want to use the door at all). Now, however, all she could do was sit back and watch Regina work. She really didn't know enough to pick apart spells like this, and although Regina was muttering about how this wasn't her forte, the former Evil Queen seemed to be doing pretty well.
That left Belle with little to do but think. Think and worry.
Rumplestiltskin's note to her had been short and almost impersonal, and she didn't doubt that he'd been in a hurry to save his grandson. Belle knew how Rumple felt about Henry, knew that he would always go to the ends of the earth to keep his family safe, but she was starting to worry that there was something more at play there. Had she pushed him too hard that morning? Belle hadn't meant to accuse him of angling for more power again; the words had just come out. Her own insecurities had reared their ugly head once more, and she'd taken it out on her husband.
Is he off to play hero now to prove to me that he's different? Belle wished she could tell herself that wasn't true, but she couldn't. What if Rumplestiltskin had rushed into something without his usual meticulous planning because of what she'd said? Belle would never forgive herself if he was hurt because of her. Mordred wasn't supposed to be powerful enough to match her husband. No one should have been able to match him, aside from another original power, of which there were only the Blue and Black Fairies left, but what if Mordred had something else up his sleeve? Surely, no one as powerful as Mordred was going to pick a fight he was certain to lose.
Belle knew her husband. When his emotions were involved, he was prone to making grand gestures instead of executing meticulous plans, and she was terrified that he would do something irreversible because he felt he had to prove something to her.
"Stop hovering," Regina snapped, making Belle realize that she'd been inching closer to the other woman as she fretted.
"Sorry." She bit her lip. "I'm just worried."
"You and me both. Try doing something useful instead of breathing down my neck, will you? It makes concentrating hard."
"Right. Sorry." Belle knew she was worried when she was repeating herself, so she forced herself to turn away, staring blankly at the children on the swing set. "I guess I'll call Killian. He has to be wondering where Emma is by now."
Numbly, Belle pulled her phone out and dialed Emma's boyfriend.
Killian nearly broke his phone hanging up. He'd already been on his way out to see his uncle, determined to tell Mordred that he needed to give Emma a chance to make things right before he tried to force her into anything, so he'd been right outside the castle when Belle had called. He kidnapped Henry, and Emma followed with the Crocodile, Killian thought, feeling cold. How could I have been such a bloody fool as to trust him?
He barged into the castle, shoving guards and courtiers out of the way and storming into his grandmother's rooms. She was sitting in a chair by the window, reading a book, and looking entirely too content for someone whose son had just decided to destroy Killian's entire world. How could I trust him? He said he wanted to cure Emma, but why would he need Henry to do that? The sinking, utterly sick, feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that he had been betrayed, just when he'd started to trust someone else. He'd been so damned desperate for family that he'd let Mordred play him for a fool, and that made the man he had once been burn to kill someone.
"What the hell was he thinking?" Killian bellowed.
Morgan blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Your bloody son! He took Henry!"
"Already?" She rose, eyes narrowing. "Never mind. Where did he take the boy?"
"The Enchanted Forest." The words came out in a low growl, hurt and furious. "Through some doorway or portal that appears to be inaccessible to anyone else. And he did it to lure Emma there, because he's a two-faced liar who used me to find out what was important to her."
"I was afraid he would do that," she said softly, and the resigned expression on his grandmother's face made him want to shake her.
Killian lurched forward several steps before he could stop himself. "Of course you couldn't be bothered to tell me. He's your son, and to you, Emma is nothing except the Dark One. Some bloody demon to be stopped. You don't care about her any more than—"
"No." Morgan cut him off, her eyes hard. "You don't know me, grandson, or my goals. Your Dark One is safe enough from me, and I counseled Mordred against his plan. He seeks to take her to the Vault of the Dark One, to take the dagger by threatening her son and thereby to lock her away, but it will not hold. The darkness broke out of that vault when far stronger magic users than Mordred sealed it away. His plan is doomed to failure."
Those words came like a blow to the chest; breathing was suddenly hard. "He said he was going to strip the darkness from her, not lock her away."
"Mordred says many things. Although, in fairness to him, I do believe that was his original intention. Until he realized that he could not pull the darkness from her unwillingly." Morgan grimaced. "Also, without the host, the darkness is much harder to control. Merlin might have done Nimue a disservice by joining it to her, but he was right about that. Bound to a human soul, the darkness is less destructive."
Killian could only stare. He had never really considered the possibility that Mordred might not be able to keep his promise. Oh, he'd refused to lead Emma into that trap, because he'd really and truly hoped that Emma would choose to let the darkness go, and then he'd be able to take her to his uncle for help. But he'd never even considered the fact that Mordred wouldn't be able to do the magic feats he'd promised. And now he wants to lock Emma away. A convulsive shiver tore through him.
"Why should I believe you when your son was so damned clueless?"
"Mordred was but five years old when the Dark One was created. He believes he is destined to destroy the darkness, but prophecies…prophecies are not always what they seem." She looked into the distance for a moment, and then blinked rapidly. "If you are here because you wish for a portal to follow them, I cannot make you one. My powers are not what they were, and even at full strength, that was beyond me. Mordred had to steal the Apprentice's Wand for that purpose." She hesitated, giving him a strange look. "The one who can help you is the Sorcerer."
"The bloody Croc—Rumplestiltskin—took Emma. His wife called me." He couldn't stop his glare. "There has to be a way through."
"Killian." Mordred spoke gently, but when she tried to put a hand on his arm, he jerked away. "Even if she does allow herself to be locked in, she will not be dead."
"Yes, but then he'll have the dagger and he'll command her to remain. I know how binding those commands are, and I won't let that happen to her!"
She didn't even flinch at his outburst. "If it comes to that, I will help you regain the dagger."
"Yes, because Mordred is so likely to listen to Mommy at this stage of the game."
"He will."
"Pardon me if I don't believe that," Killian snarled. "Every boy eventually breaks free of his mother's tit. Perhaps it's simply taken him a few centuries longer than usual."
He didn't bother to determine if his grandmother was disturbed by his crudeness; Killian spun on his heel and strode out. Staying one more moment in that castle would drive him utterly insane. Morgan might believe there was no way to get to Emma, but he wasn't going to accept that. Killian was going to find something, anything, before that bastard could lock her away like she was some monster to be feared.
Rumplestiltskin's directions were frighteningly easy to follow. Just go to where the darkness draws you most. Emma didn't like giving in like that, and the darkness positively raged at the idea—stronger and louder than ever—but saving Henry was her first priority. Everything else could wait. Henry was what mattered.
So, she strode up to the Vault of the Dark One, power bubbling in her veins. I came here, Emma realized. When she had dropped the dagger, she had meant to teleport herself to the woods, but she had landed here, hadn't she? And from the vault she had bubbled up as some sort of viscous black liquid, pure darkness coming out of the place where it had originally been chained to a human soul. Am I even human anymore? If her body had been turned into liquid darkness, did that mean the real Emma had died? Was she only the Dark One, now? Emma couldn't remember, couldn't think.
But she had come here, even if the darkness had made her not think of it. She'd been brought here, and then somehow—she couldn't remember how—she'd wound up back in Storybrooke's forest. Swatting a tree branch out of her way viciously enough to break it, Emma scowled in frustration. She hated not remembering, hated knowingthat the darkness within her was playing games and laughing at her, but she couldn't pay attention to that right now. Henry first, she told the darkness. Then you can gnaw on me all you want. But first you are going to help me save my son.
You can't trust anyone, that feminine version of the Dark One's voice whispered. If you go there, you will rue the decision for the rest of your long and painful life.
"I'll take that chance," Emma growled, shoving her way out of the trees and into a clearing.
The clearing was bigger than she remembered, but then, Emma's memories were vague and spotty. She also remembered the trees being green, only slowly turning to colors, yet now there was snow on the ground and the smell of it strong in the air. The place was different, yet the same; the vault lay in the center of the clearing, the same symbols on it as before. What hadn't been here last time was Mordred, who stood across from Emma, with Henry pulled tightly against him.
Emma's hands came up immediately, power flying to her fingertips, and she almost attacked without thinking.
"Don't," Mordred warned her, his eyes dark and calm. "This gauntlet"—he nodded towards the metal gauntlet on his left hand, the one holding Henry's throat with terrifying firmness—is enchanted. Its magic will out-live me, so even if you kill me, it'll still choke your son to death."
"What. Do. You. Want?" Emma growled softly, her eyes on Henry.
Her son met her gaze, frightened but calm. He knew she'd save him, and his faith in her made Emma want to cry.
"You, of course."
"You're not getting anything or anyone until you let Henry go." Emma wasn't negotiating. Not with someone who could kill her son in a heartbeat. And she'd seen that kind of flat determination before. Mordred would do it.
"I think not. I have no control over what you do if I let him go." Mordred looked down at Henry. "Tell your mother that you're all right."
"I'm not all right. You're holding me by the throat!"
Despite herself, Emma smiled. That's my son. "I'll get you out of this, Henry," she promised. Then her eyes flicked to Mordred. "No matter what it takes."
Henry smiled despite the metal fingers gripping his throat. "I know you will, Mom."
"All it takes is you handing me the dagger of the Dark One." Mordred cocked his head. "Now. Or the boy dies."
"Don't do it, Mom!" Henry cried. "It's not worth it. If you give him the dagger, he can do whatever he wants. He can make you kill me if he has it."
"I have no interest in him," Mordred said immediately, and Emma could tell he wasn't lying. "I only want you. And it isn't personal, Miss Swan. You are the Dark One, and you must be stopped. Forever."
"And what happens if I do?" she asked cautiously. Where the hell is Rumplestiltskin? If that bastard had sold her out, if he'd abandoned her here, she was going to shove the dagger into Rumplestiltskin so many times…then if Mordred wanted it so badly, he could pull the damn thing out of the freaking Sorcerer.
"Then you will enter the vault, and I will seal you inside for eternity. It's not the ideal solution—which would be destroying you and the darkness you host utterly—but my primary plan was…overturned, let's say. So long as I hold the dagger, you will remain secure. And all the realms will be safe from you."
"From where I'm standing, it doesn't look like I'm the danger."
"We do what we have to." Mordred shrugged. "My life's work has been to stop you. I will not cease now. Give me the dagger."
"I wasn't even born when you started this damned quest of yours. How the hell is this my problem?" Emma demanded, inadvertently taking a step forward. If you give him the dagger, he will force you to kill your son, the darkness whispered. Emma's heart was racing. And then he can shut you away.
But that was a bad idea. Mordred tightened his grip on Henry's throat, and Henry coughed out a hoarse cry.
"Stop!" Desperately, Emma held her hands up, but Mordred didn't look like he felt any regret for harming a thirteen-year-old.
"The dagger, or he dies. I'm done debating with you, Dark One. Stop playing games."
"This isn't a game! This is my son's life!"
If you go down there, we will never come out. You don't need much food, but you will slowly starve, slowly go insane until there's nothing left of Emma Swan, only the Dark One. Then you will be like us. Emma shivered convulsively. She could picture it in her mind so clearly. She wasn't sure if that was her imagination or if it was the darkness putting the image in her mind, but Emma could see herself shaking alone in the dark, with no company but the voices in her head, stuck in the vault while Mordred commanded her to never leave.
"Yes, it is. Make your choice, Dark One."
Don't do it! Don't give up your freedom! Don't give us to him! The cacophony of voices was almost overwhelming, and Emma staggered.
"Don't do it, Mom!"
Listening to Henry echo what the voices in her head said was sickening, and Emma almost gave in, just to make them shut up. But she couldn't. Henry is all that matters. Shaking and shuddering as the darkness fought to keep her still, Emma slowly reached inside her jacket to remove the dagger. She barely registered Mordred's smile; the darkness was giving everything it had to stop her. But that was the trick, wasn't it? In the end, the darkness was still chained to a human soul, and that soul was still Emma's. The choice was hers. So, she pulled the dagger free, holding it tightly in her right hand, breathing hard and not sure if she was winning or losing.
"I'm sorry, Henry." She would do it, Emma knew. Rumplestiltskin was nowhere to be seen and she couldn't afford to wait. "I don't give a damn if that bastard sends me down there for eternity. At least I'll know that you're safe."
"Mom—!" The cry choked off as Mordred tightened his grip.
"Let the boy go, dearie," a quiet voice said from Emma's right, and for once, even the darkness was glad to see Rumplestiltskin. Particularly once Mordred loosened his hand and Henry could breathe again.
"It's about damned time," she hissed, turning to glare at him. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to blast him out of this world and straight into the underworld. Henry is what matters. The bastard didn't even look at her. Mordred, however, had ceased to smile so arrogantly and now looked furious, and at least that was a significant improvement.
"Stay out of this, Sorcerer!"
"I'm afraid I can't do that." Rumplestiltskin stepped forward, his hands spread away from his body in a semi-peaceful gesture. "You see, although your plan is a decent one, it fails to take two important factors into account."
Mordred sneered. "Oh?"
"Oh, yes. One, someone will always get the dagger. It's been true for every Dark One, and it's been true for everyone who controls them. You might shut her in there, and it might hold for a century or two, but eventually, someone will pull her out." He matched Mordred sneer for sneer, but Emma felt the magic building, not around her, but around Henry. "It might even be me. I'm certainly immortal enough, these days, and not terribly well disposed towards you."
"I can stop you." Mordred's confidence seemed to return. "You might be the Sorcerer, Rumplestiltskin, but at your core you're no better than she is. Try the second reason. I hope it's better than the first."
"Oh, it is. That's my grandson you're holding."
"What—?"
Mordred cut off as magic lashed out from Henry, striking the dark-haired sorcerer and twisting around the gauntlet, a trail of golden sparks twisting around the metal glove. Crying out, Mordred jumped back, the fingers of the gauntlet popping open. But Mordred was fast, and he reached for Henry again—only to be kicked hard in the shin. Henry ducked Mordred's wild attempt to grab him, and Emma took her chance. She wasn't sure she could sweep him away in time with magic, so she just teleported herself forward, appearing between Henry and Mordred and grabbing her son. A thought brought them back to where she had been standing before, with Henry clinging to her in relief.
"Are you okay?" she asked desperately.
"I'm fine—look out!"
Henry's cry alerted Emma just in time, and she teleported them again to dodge Mordred's attack. They landed a few feet to the right, only to find Zelena inches away and reaching for Henry.
"Not so fast, Swan." Zelena grinned, but Emma just flicked her fingers, throwing the witch back.
"I told you before," she growled. "You're a speed bump, not a problem."
A quick glance left showed her that Rumplestiltskin was dealing with Mordred easily enough; even as Emma looked over, the bastard who had kidnapped her son slammed into a tree with a gratifying crunch. Do the same to her, the darkness suggested softly, and Emma decided that was a good idea. So, she waved a hand and sent Zelena flying over towards Mordred, grinning viciously when the witch landed on top of Mordred just as he tried to get up. Good. Both cried out, and then started to struggle upright, but Emma hammered them back down by closing her fingers into a tight fist, and she grinned.
"What the hell took you so long?" She wheeled towards Rumplestiltskin.
"I saw what was happening. You had to make the choice." He gave her a half smile. "My apologies."
"Apologies?" Emma slammed magic into Mordred and Zelena again. They were a useful outlet for her fury.
"You had a realization there, didn't you? About who and what you are? Right about when you made the decision to hand the dagger over to save Henry. You won."
She wanted to wrap her fingers around his too-smart throat and squeeze so hard. "I almost gave him the dagger!"
"Yes, you did. Almost. You chose love over power, over your own freedom, and that matters." Rumplestiltskin stepped forward, his gaze frighteningly intent. "You made the choice that so few Dark Ones make—and one none of us survived without regretting. Every other Dark One that dared to value someone we loved more than our own freedom wound up controlled, and thereby doomed to let that damned curse take over. You won, and he is going to pay the price. Not you."
The last words were accompanied by a vicious gesture towards Mordred, and this time it was the Sorcerer's magic that hammered their opponents back into the ground. Emma couldn't bring herself to smile, however. She was too busy thinking about what Rumplestiltskin had said, about how the voices had actually quieted within her. And it wasn't just because Henry was beside her. Emma was in control. She didn't feel that terrible pull, didn't feel the overwhelming rage. Oh, they were there—the darkness wanted her to kill Zelena and Mordred both, wanted her to do a thousand terrible things—but she could ignore those urges far more easily than before.
"You're right," she breathed. "How did you know?"
"I've been where you are." His crooked smile was sad. "For about a day. When we got back from Neverland. Try not to get yourself killed, because it'll set you back by a wide margin."
"I'll keep that in mind." Anger coiled up inside her, but Emma was pretty sure those feelings were her own when she turned to glare at him. "You could have told me what you were trying to do."
Rumplestiltskin just snorted. "And let the darkness ruin it?"
Emma had to admit that he had a point. Henry, however, always had questions.
"What does this mean, Grandpa? Mom's still the Dark One, so how does it change things?"
"It means her choices are her own. She'll always have to be mindful of those voices, because they'll never go away, but she's won. And since that idiot set it up, the darkness couldn't really find a loophole."
Henry turned to Emma, and the way her son's eyes were shining made her heart twist in a wonderfully painful knot. "This means the darkness can't make you kill anyone else!"
"Yeah, it does." Emma felt like crying, but instead, she just hugged her son tightly. That wasn't all us, the darkness whispered, and she shivered. That was you, too. "I promise I won't," she whispered, and then had to remind herself to be realistic. "Not unless it's to protect someone, anyway."
"I think I'm okay with that." Henry hugged her back just as fiercely, and Emma felt lighter than she had in the month since she'd become the Dark One.
"Now what?" she asked Rumplestiltskin, who was studying Mordred and Zelena as they staggered to their feet, clearly still dazed.
"I really wish she weren't pregnant," he said softly, making Emma frown in confusion. "Or that my conscience would let me murder either one of them."
"You have a conscience?" she couldn't help asking.
He grimaced. "Unfortunately. And it's not always as convenient as Belle seems to think."
"You're going to regret this," Mordred hissed before Emma could ask why Rumplestiltskin was suddenly moved to murder—just when she'd gotten herself under control, no less. Not that she didn't agree. The world would be a lot better place without Zelena in it, if not for the innocent child inside her. And Mordred…well, he might have been Killian's uncle, but Emma thought that budding relationship might just be destroyed by this little trick. Bastard, she thought angrily, and opened her mouth to answer.
"If I have to choose between the Dark One and someone who's willing to lock a human being away in that vault for eternity, I'll pick her every time." Rumplestiltskin got in before Emma could answer, and she could feel a tremor of magic in the air. She knew him well enough, or thought she did, to tell when he had a tight hold on his temper, but Emma could feel the magic rolling off of him in waves.
She could see it, too, Emma realized. Colors and layers and swirling threads of magic filled the air, not only around Rumplestiltskin but around Zelena and Mordred, too. Those two were both building spells of some sort, but the magic around Rumplestiltskin was so much more vivid that it made Emma blink. Doing so, however, only made things more confusing, because then she relaxed enough to see her own magic, too.
"One soul is not too high of a price to pay to take that darkness out of the world forever," Mordred retorted.
"Or make it two," Zelena cooed. "I could live with having him locked in there, too."
"You always do want things you can't have, don't you?" Emma snorted out a laugh. "You know, I almost felt sorry for you, once. But that was back when I had a lot more compassion than I do now."
She might have won, but Emma was still the Dark One. And standing here, in the exact same spot where Zelena had doomed the first man she'd loved to die, really didn't make Emma feel a flicker of kindness towards the Wicked Witch.
"I suggest you both leave," Rumplestiltskin said softly. "Unless you want to make this even uglier than it already is."
Both bristled, but Emma saw them exchange glances. She didn't have to be a mind reader to know Mordred and Zelena were both choosing to fight another day, but at the moment, Emma supposed that was enough. Besides, she didn't want to kill her lover's uncle until Killian knew what the bastard had done. He wouldn't believe me because I'm the Dark One, and he certainly isn't going to believe Rumplestiltskin, either. Not if Mordred is dead. Alive, the bastard can tell his own tale. Then Emma could kill him. She was all right with waiting. I made a promise, she reminded herself. But he'll definitely threaten someone. I can wait for that, too. Henry wouldn't like a revenge killing, after all.
Mordred and Zelena teleported away, and a very crooked smile bloomed on Rumplestiltskin's face the moment they were gone.
"They're going to have a very hard time using that doorway of theirs," he snickered. "I may have guaranteed it won't take anyone back to Storybrooke from this end."
"Where will it take them?" Henry asked as Emma tried not to laugh.
"I have no idea. There are about thirty magical realms. The doorway will pick one and send them there."
"You put it on random." Henry grinned. "Did you get that idea from me showing Belle how to work my iPod?"
Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "Perhaps."
Unfortunately, Mordred and Zelena did not go straight back to the doorway. Instead, they teleported towards what remained of a crystal cave, landing in a valley surrounded by high mountains.
"I thought you said that Camelot had been destroyed," Zelena pouted. "There's nothing here."
"What made you think we were going to Camelot?" Mordred turned to look at her before striding towards the cave.
"You muttered that we were going to find something useful. I assumed you meant something of yours."
Barking mad, Scarlet had called her. So far, Mordred hadn't seen evidence of that—raging envy, certainly, but not madness. Still, she was rather annoying, and not rolling his eyes was hard. "Hardly. I brought everything I wanted of my own with me, because I knew Camelot was doomed. This was the cave my mother weathered the centuries in, though, and she didn't bring everything."
"It had better be something powerful, because I really don't relish being defeated like that again."
Neither do I. But Mordred smiled. "Oh, yes. My mother stole the Greater Sapphire from the Black Fairy before the War of the Dragons. She was always afraid to use it, but I am not."
"The Greater Sapphire?" Zelena echoed, and he could hear her frown as she trudged along behind him. "I've never heard of it."
There were still some old wards on the cave, but Mordred was able to brush them aside easily enough. The so-called Second Dark Curse had burned most of them away, and the rest were his mother's work. Those were easy enough to dismantle, particularly when so much pent-up anger and frustration lent power to his magic.
"It's also known as Circe's Pendant," he clarified, and heard Zelena's quick intake of breath.
"I've heard legends…" she whispered.
Mordred stopped as they reached the main cave, his eyes flying around the luxuriously appointed room. His mother had never wanted him to touch the Sapphire, because she had always feared it would burn through a mere human. Morgan had never used it, either, even though the Sapphire could have changed the very course of the war from the beginning. Not this time, Mother. This time I am not stopping.
"The legends are true. When the Black Fairy killed Circe, she encased Circe's power into a blue sapphire." Spotting the box he was looking for on a low table, Mordred bounced forward, cautiously pulling the lid open by hand. Usually, he would have simply of summoned the box, but not when it held an object of such power. "Circe was an original power, one of the first four humans to possess magic. A little of her magic escaped, but almost all of it was trapped in the gem."
"And if we can use that—oh, that will be wonderful!"
Cautiously, Mordred opened the box, finding a fist-shaped blue stone inside. It glowed quietly, the light in its depths radiant and yet trapped. The pendant was fitted into a golden chain, meant to be worn around the neck, but for now, Mordred simply lifted the box and smiled. "Indeed."
"So, now we go back?" Emma asked after Mordred and Zelena disappeared, and Rumplestiltskin couldn't find his voice to answer.
He was staring at the face of the vault, remembering bubbling out of there—twice—and remembering the price that had been paid. The last time he had been here, his son had died. Despite his best efforts to keep Baelfire's soul alive, he had lost him. He had lost him…to this place.
"I remember," he whispered, the words tumbling out before he could so much as think.
"Remember what, Grandpa?"
"When…when the Apprentice wiped my heart clean, he banished my soul to the vault." His voice caught, and he must have looked broken, because he felt Henry's hand land on his arm. "I've only seen flashes of those days until now, but now I remember." Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard. "Bae isn't dead. He's in the vault, trapped with the souls of every Dark One from the beginning."
"But why? He wasn't the Dark One," Henry objected, and Rumplestiltskin forced himself to look up.
"That's the bargain for resurrecting the Dark One. The failsafe that Merlin built in so that no one would try if the world was so fortunate that the Dark One died without a successor." He snorted bitterly. "A soul goes in, a soul comes out. But the sacrifice must be willing. No one can force them, and who would want to live down there for eternity, all to bring a Dark One back to life?"
Hot tears streamed down his face, but Rumplestiltskin didn't care. It should have been me. It would have been so much better for everyone if Bae had never brought me back. Then he'd be alive, and Emma would never have been the Dark One.
Emma looked stricken. "He doesn't deserve to be with them."
She knew. She heard the voices. Emma might not have been the Dark One for more than a month, but she knew. She'd loved Bae, once. She'd known him, and knew what kind of hell he had to be living in. He could hear the pain in her voice, could see the horror in Henry's expression. And Rumplestiltskin knew what he needed to do.
The key remained exactly where Baelfire and Belle had left it, oh so long ago.
"No." His voice was hard, and his tears were gone. "He doesn't. And I'm not going to let him stay there a moment longer."
"Grandpa—"
"You can't!" Emma grabbed his arm. "Neal wouldn't want you to die for him!"
"And I didn't want him to die for me!" Rumplestiltskin snarled, guilt making the words sharp as he shook her off. "If that damn vault wants a soul, it can have mine. I belong there far more than he does!"
"You're the Sorcerer," Henry objected, but he looked torn. "If you're not around to help, what are we going to do?"
"I was his father first," Rumplestiltskin whispered, looking at the vault again. "I can't leave him there."
You can't, a voice said from inside him, but Rumplestiltskin shoved Merlin aside with all of his might. He didn't give a damn what the old enchanter had to say. Bae was his son. But that didn't mean he couldn't do this the smart way, that he couldn't fulfill his promise to Henry, first. Belle would never forgive him for it…but he hoped that she would understand. I never should have been given a second chance, but Bae deserves one.
"There's a way to do this, a way to leave the Sorcerer's power in the world and still free him." His head came up, and he met Emma's eyes. "I'll pull the darkness from you. It'll go free, but I can call it, as you once did. Draw it in. If I take the darkness on, what's left of Merlin will surely leave me, but he can't survive without a host. That's where you come in."
"You want me to be the Sorcerer?" Emma gaped.
"I'll admit that it's a bit of a transition, but you're better suited to than I ever was." Rumplestiltskin forced a smile, his heart racing. Yes, it was possible…just very difficult to pull off. Merlin wouldn't like it, but the old man would do what he had to. "You're a child of True Love, and you've been the Dark One. The power won't kill you."
"Oh, that's a great vote of confidence!"
"But if you become the Dark One again, what's to keep you from not going in the vault?" Henry asked quietly. "You might go crazy."
"I've dealt with it before. This time, at least I know what I'm getting into." And maybe this was the right thing to do, finally. Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "I should have stayed down there last time, anyway. This time at least I can take that cursed power with me, once and for all."
"There is another way," a fourth voice said suddenly, making all three turn.
A/N: Stay tuned for Chapter Thirty-Nine—"Through the Black Air," in which Regina and Belle make their way to the Enchanted Forest, Rumplestiltskin's plan hits a snag, Zelena and Mordred run into difficulties escaping…and Baelfire returns.