Chapter Fifty-Two—"Nothing But an Idea"
Robin's phone chirped, and his heart sank a little. Of course Whale would have to text him now. Things like this never happened at a good time, and Regina had just finally calmed down after ranting for twenty minutes about being framed for murders that she hadn't committed. Any mention of Zelena—who was almost undoubtedly behind the ruse, not that they could prove it—was likely to set her off again, and as much as Robin loved her, he really wasn't in the mood for another tirade. But if he didn't check the text, Regina would assume he had something to hide. Which he did.
Unfortunately, she slid in next to him just as Robin opened the text. He'd been sitting on the couch in her office, counting on Regina staying behind her desk…but Regina rarely did what he expected. It was one of the things he loved most about her, even when it did bite him in the ass.
"Whale's texting you?" she asked, leaning casually against his shoulder. She didn't sound concerned, at least not until Regina glanced at his face. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, everything's fine. It's not about me—"
Right on cue, his phone chirped a second time, and then promptly reported that it was downloading pictures. Before Robin could think of what to say, images from Zelena's latest sonogram popped up on the screen. He shrugged helplessly, waiting for Regina to pull away, or for an angry reaction that never came.
"Is that her?" The softness in Regina's voice indicated that she wasn't referring to Regina, and Robin felt his heart melt. How could I ever underestimate Regina's capacity to love? I know how big her heart is, and all the hatred in the world for Zelena won't rub off on my daughter. Not from Regina.
"Yeah." He felt his own smile turn dopey, but Robin didn't care. He hated Zelena with a burning passion for how she'd become pregnant, but he could never hold that against his child. And this was his child.
"Does Whale say she's healthy?" Regina asked, leaning closer to get a better look.
"She is, but Whale's getting worried about Zelena's antics." He grimaced. "Truth be told, so am I. Have you made any more progress on speeding up the pregnancy?"
Regina frowned, glancing away for a moment before answering. "Emma and I talked about it last night. The problem is getting Zelena to ingest the required potion. She's certainly not going to eat or drink anything I give her, and none of Emma's ideas sounded likely to work out, either."
"Too bad she doesn't pop by Granny's for a snack while she's hiding in Mordred's castle." He pulled a face, and then looked back down at the fuzzy image of his unborn daughter. "These…risks you mentioned last time. It won't hurt her, will it?"
"The likelihood is low." Regina bit her lip. "It's actually good that Emma's brewing the potion. She might be the Dark One, but she's, uh, given birth before. That helps."
Robin wasn't sure he wanted to know what that kind of thing helped, but he was still glad to hear it. Of course, he was still worried—both about what Zelena got up to with his child in her belly and the risks associated with magically advancing a pregnancy—but he was at least glad that he didn't have to deal with this alone. Regina had been such a rock, so damned supportive when she could have just turned her back on him, and he hated bringing up things that hurt her. I know she'll love this child for my sake, but I wish it could have been our child, not one conceived out of her birth mother's hatred and spite.
"So, we need to find a way to feed Zelena the potion. That sounds like a job for someone good at breaking and entering."
"Mordred will fillet you if he catches you."
Robin laughed. "They didn't call me the Prince of Thieves for nothing, you know." He reached out to cup her cheek gently, touched by the worry he saw in her eyes. "Let me and the Merry Men scout the place out. We'll be careful."
She gave him a hard look. "More careful than when Rumple caught you, I hope."
"Infinitely so." Robin kissed her to cut off her next objection, and he felt Regina's smile against his lips.
"You'd better." She didn't sound terribly fierce, though, so he just grinned.
"You and Emma handle the magical end. I'll handle the sneaky part once you're done with the potion, all right?" He shrugged. "Or, you could always catch her and I'll help you poison her food. In a manner of speaking."
Regina laughed. "It's a deal."
Belle had been glad that Rumple's phone call interrupted her talk with Arthur. Her grandfather continued to say that he didn't know where Lancelot was and that Belle didn't need to talk to him, and she was getting really sick of the lies. So, she headed over to the shop immediately, only to find Morgan there as well. Rumplestiltskin didn't look particularly overwhelmed or emotional, but Belle did know that concerned frown all too well. Hurrying to his side, she took his hand before nodding a greeting to Morgan. My mother-in-law. I never expected to have one of those!
Never mind the fact that Morgan was also her step-great-aunt, or something like that. Belle really didn't want to think about that tangled bit of her own family tree. Bae had been right—this was crazy.
"Is everything all right?" she asked her husband, noting the creases around his eyes and the way he held her hand a little too tightly.
"I'm fine." Rumplestiltskin's answer was quick, but it didn't sound like a lie. "But…there's something you need to know."
Instinctively, Belle glanced at Morgan, figuring she had to be there for a reason. Her mother-in-law spoke immediately, addressing Rumplestiltskin. "Do you want to tell her, or shall I?"
"You know the story."
"You said that you wanted to talk about my grandparents last time you were here." Belle remembered that conversation vividly, even if that fact had gotten lost in the maelstrom of Rumplestiltskin's near-emotional breakdown. She'd meant to go to Morgan and ask, but she'd been too distracted. Yet somehow I think that Morgan is the last person Arthur wants me to talk to…which means I really want to know what she has to say. Maybe between Morgan and Lancelot, Belle could scrape together some semblance of the truth.
"I did." Morgan hesitated, glancing at Rumplestiltskin briefly before going on. "You have no reason to believe me, and I have no doubt that Arthur has tried to warn you against me."
"He did." Belle wouldn't lie about that.
"We were close as children, you know." Morgan's smile was nostalgic and a little sad. "I believed he could be a great king, and I thought his dreams of building a great kingdom where the law treated everyone equally were exactly what we needed. I even believed he'd do it. Then he married 'Guinevere'."
Belle listened silently, very aware of the way Rumplestiltskin shifted closer to her. There was bad news coming; she could tell that from his body language…and from the way her heart wedged firmly in her throat. Morgan continued:
"It's that damned Pendragon ambition," the older woman said heavily. "It seems to be in their blood, and she only made it worse. Yet we didn't realize how bad it was until the darkness encroached on Camelot. At first, we thought it was merely an attack of some sort, not that our own queen was inviting it in. The Fae came out of hiding, enslaving and abusing our people, and we thought Arthur would fight them. We were wrong. Instead, he lashed out at nearby kingdoms, conquering and burning, treating human beings in ways he had never done before. The walls between Camelot and the Enchanted Forest grew thinner, and then we discovered that she had tricked Merlin into killing Nimue. Merlin had been the Dark One for years, unable to tell anyone, bound to obey her every whim."
Belle shivered. She could picture it in her mind: the good king turning towards darkness, ambition and power becoming more important than human decency. Morgan's words evoked terrible images, and she was descended from these monsters. Yes, Morgan could be lying, but Rumplestiltskin's body language told her there was worse to come.
"What aren't you saying?" she whispered after a moment, determined to face whatever it was bravely. But part of Belle just wanted to clap her hands over her ears, to deny everything she'd heard. Arthur and Guinevere were her mother's parents, and her mother had been a good person. Surely that had to mean something?
"Guinevere has always been a lie." Morgan's voice turned surprisingly gentle. "We—Mordred, Gwaine, Lancelot, and I—learned far too late. Her true name is Danns' a'Bhàis, and she is the Black Fairy."
For a long moment, Belle couldn't speak. She must have heard wrong. She'd read about the Black Fairy, knew about the destruction she had wrought in the Enchanted Forest three or four centuries ago. The Black Fairy was the stuff nightmares were made of, the personification of darkness. She had made it her mission to enslave all of humanity, and she had almost succeeded—only to be stopped by an alliance between Morgan of Cornwall and Reul Ghorm. She would know. But Belle still didn't want to believe it. Desperately, she turned to her husband.
"Rumple?"
"It fits with what I've seen of Merlin's memories," he answered softly, and Belle felt herself crumble. Not physically, but emotionally; she wanted to weep but would not let herself. Rumplestiltskin still reached out to steady her, and she was so grateful when his arm wrapped around her. "And a part of me has always recognized the power she wields. I think…I think my mother is right."
The worst part was that Belle could see it. "Guinevere's" smooth lies and careful phrasing, the way she was protective yet demanding, and the way Arthur yielded precedence to her all fit. Belle had been suspicious when her grandmother had attributed Colette's magic to Arthur's lineage, but she'd never expected this.
"I am sorry." Morgan's voice filled the stillness, but Belle barely heard her. Her mind was spinning too quickly, and her chest was unbearably tight.
"I'm…I'm descended from a monster," she whispered. Is that why I hurt Rumple so badly? I always wanted to be a hero, yet I've always failed. Is that the legacy I've inherited, to hurt people when I think I'm helping. "I'm…"
"It doesn't change who you are." Rumplestiltskin's hand gently lifted her chin, and Belle stared up at him, unable to stop her eyes from filling with tears. "My father willingly became a demon, stealing children from their families and torturing them for sport. Our parentage doesn't define who we are."
"But that much darkness has to leave a mark. You've said that." She would not panic. She would not cry. Belle bit her lip hard, forcing herself to be strong.
He pulled her close, and Belle let herself retreat into the safety of her husband's arms. At least he won't hate me for this, she knew. Rumple wouldn't, but would everyone else? He squeezed her tightly. "It's not your darkness, sweetheart."
"There may be something else at play," Morgan said suddenly, and Belle turned to look at her.
"Something worse?" she whispered brokenly.
"No. Your blood may be that of the Black Fairy, but she does not only bear her own power. When her sister—Fionna Rèitear, the White Fairy—died, Danns' absorbed her power. Merlin told me that Fionna had hoped it would temper Danns' darkness, or that her power would be reborn in another." Morgan reached out, her movements extremely tentative, and touched Belle's arm. The contact was so brief that Belle almost thought she imagined it, but Morgan gave her a reassuring nod. "I believe that is, or will be, you."
"Me?"
Rumplestiltskin started, too; clearly, his mother had not told him this.
"You would not be who you are if your soul was so darkened. You could not share True Love the way you do, and you could not have fought for that love for so long," Morgan answered as Belle shivered. "I believe Fionna meant for the power to go to your mother, but Colette died too young. She could have passed it to you in death, even unknowingly. Magic always knows its own."
Belle merely stared, speechless. After a long moment, it was Rumplestiltskin who said to her: "We knew dark magic was a poor fit for you. Do you think that would be true if your soul is as dark as you fear?"
"I guess not." The logic was hard to argue with, but Belle was still terrified. What if Morgan was wrong? What if she had that darkness within her, and it was merely waiting to come out and hurt everyone around her?
What if that was what her grandparents wanted?
"If your soul had been born so dark, you would already know." Morgan answered the question she was afraid to ask. "And neither Arthur nor Danns' would be so careful to keep you in the dark. I think Danns' suspects what you will be."
"Does that put her in danger?" Rumplestiltskin asked immediately.
"I don't think so. Danns' is incredibly protective. The one person she'd never hurt is Belle." Morgan snorted. "I don't think Arthur is safe from her, not if he strays from their goals, but Belle is. She is her blood, just as Reul Ghorm is. She'll battle her sister from here until eternity, but neither will ever kill the other."
Somehow, that didn't make her feel much better. But the possibility of not being irrevocably tainted was at least a hope worth holding onto. Maybe the two types of power mean I have a choice, Belle decided. She wouldn't run from her lineage; she would face it head on. No one decides my fate but me. Not my grandparents. Not even my husband, much though I love him. This is my life, and I choose to be me. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back enough to face Morgan squarely.
"Did Mordred try to kill my mother?" While she was learning unpleasant truths, Belle figured that she might as well learn them all.
"Yes." Morgan didn't hesitate. "He takes after his father too much, sometimes. Colette's birth derailed his ambitions to rule Camelot."
"You stopped him."
Morgan met her eyes levelly. "Yes. I lost my own daughter as a child. I would not wish that upon anyone, even my worst enemy."
It went without saying that Danns' a'Bhàis was indeed Morgan's worst enemy, so Belle only nodded. There was nothing to say to that.
Regina hadn't really liked his grandfathers' idea, and in the end, the only way Henry got her to agree with it was by promising to take an adult along. Fortunately, Gramps had backed him up, and when Gramps wasn't able to come (and neither was Robin, who had been his second choice, since Robin was kind of Gramps' deputy these days and knew all about the asylum), his dad had volunteered. Henry never turned down the chance to spend more time with his dad, so he figured that it was a win.
Besides, Isaac hadn't ever met Baelfire, and Henry had the feeling that any advantage he could have over the old author was going to be useful. Particularly once he introduced the two and Isaac's eyes went wide.
"Aren't you, you know, dead?" the former author asked incredulously, and Henry bit back a laugh.
"Not anymore, no. And it's more like I was in cold storage." Bae shrugged from where he was leaning on the wall, and Isaac scowled.
"The Vault of the Dark One, right. I didn't think your thickheaded father would figure that out unless I spelled it out for him in neon lights."
Henry could tell that his dad didn't appreciate that dig, but Bae just smiled coldly. "Yeah, well, life's full of surprises."
"We're not here to talk about that," Henry put in before Isaac could change the subject again. "You're locked in here because you tried to ruin everyone's lives with your rewritten story, but if you want out, you have to help us."
Isaac narrowed his eyes, leaning back against the wall behind his bed and crossing his legs. "And why should I believe any promise a twelve-year-old makes?"
"I'm thirteen."
"Fine, same question, just substitute in 'thirteen-year-old'."
"Because my mom's the mayor. She can let you out, but only if you help us," Henry shot back.
Isaac just snorted. "You must be really desperate to turn to me."
"You know what, Henry?" Bae interjected. "He's not going to help. I've been around plenty of con artists and liars, and he's not even a good one. This guy's just full of hot air. Let's go."
Henry caught on to what his dad was doing right away, and hopped up out of the chair he'd been in. "Yeah, you're probably right."
They headed for the door together, and it took everything Henry had to restrain his smile. Three, two, one—
"Wait!" Isaac spoke up right on cue, just as Bae knocked on the door to be let out. "I might be able to help you. Depending on what you want to know. And on what promises you make."
"No." Bae crossed his arms as they turned around, and Henry copied the motion. "That's not how this works. You tried to screw everyone over, so now you get to put yourself out and help. You're not our only source of information, and we don't need you. What's in your head is just kind of nice to have. So, you start spilling your guts, and if you're helpful enough—and honest enough—then we'll talk about letting you out."
Isaac glared, but Henry knew they had him over a barrel. It wasn't like the old Author had any power now, anyway, but he'd hurt enough people with his alternate little world that they were going to make him work for his release. Henry knew they had him, too, particularly when Isaac's face split into an I-know-more-than-you-do grin.
"You have no idea how much knowledge I have," Isaac bragged. "I even know who his great-grandmother is."
He gestured at Henry, but Henry only grinned. "Morgan of Cornwall?"
That made his predecessor gape. "How did you know that?"
"A lot's happened since you got locked up," he replied, going back to his chair and pulling out a notepad to take notes on. "Start talking."
"Is that Emma's pirate?" Lily asked August. She wasn't sure when she and the former puppet had become friends; their backgrounds couldn't be more different, yet they'd somehow become close in the last month or so. Maybe it was because they were both creatures of the world, and neither tried to pretend to be some ridiculously "good" epitome of a hero. She wasn't remotely attracted to him—August was pretty, but he wasn't her type, not with his constantly guilty conscience and fervent need for the Blue Fairy's approval—but in some ways, he'd become the best friend she'd ever had.
Maybe that was because August didn't expect her to be someone she wasn't, and his parents (well, parent, in his case—or was that woodworker?) hadn't stuffed his darkness into her. Emma had seemed angry about that at first, and they'd almost patched up their friendship, until Emma had done a one eighty and decided to forgive her parents for that and all their other faults, leaving Lily high and dry. She didn't appreciate being abandoned by someone she'd once sworn to be friends with forever, even if she had screwed that relationship up as a teen. Emma should have understood that, especially now, but Emma had barely said a word to her since they'd gotten back to Storybrooke. Even before she'd become the Dark One, Emma had started ignoring Lily, and wasn't that just typical?
Still, she'd decided that she'd make her own way in this town, despite its weird combination of magic and normal. At least here there were some bright spots within the darkness that always surrounded her. Her mother, scary dragon bitch though she could be, was pretty cool. Maleficent seemed content with being her friend, offering advice—and lessons in magic—without being overbearing, and Lily basked in that attention despite herself. She'd spent her life thinking that she didn't need a mother, but she wanted one terribly, and Maleficent seemed as lonely as she did. August did, too, which was probably why they'd grown so close. He'd been discarded by the heroes when he was no longer useful, too, so they tended to stick together now.
"Former pirate, from what I've heard. Sounds like they're on the outs." August's response jolted her out of her musings, and Lily cast another glance Killian Jones' way.
"He's Captain Hook." An amused snort wormed its way out; they'd been sitting at Granny's outside tables when Jones walked by, and somehow the fact that Captain Hook was real had never quite sank in. "How ridiculous is that?"
August threw her a droll look. "Says the daughter of Maleficent when she's talking to Pinocchio?"
"Yeah, but who keeps a hook for a hand when there's so much magic around?" she countered. "Seriously, he is—or was?—dating a damned sorceress. I'm almost at the point where I could conjure him up a new hand, so why didn't he have her do it?"
"Maybe he's got, uh, other uses for that hook?"
Lily rolled her eyes. "Lame."
"Well, he could—"
"It's sharp, so don't start getting kinky thoughts," she cut him off, and they grinned at one another. August might not have been her type for a boyfriend, but she really did enjoy spending time with him. Having a friend who didn't judge her was damned nice, really.
Speaking of men who were her type, though, not watching Killian Jones was hard. He was every bit as easy on the eyes as August was, but he had that dark edge that she found so very attractive. There was a swagger to him that caught Lily's interest, too, and she really liked the look of a man in leather. Hell, even if Emma's not done with him, I could do worse than casting a line in that direction, myself, she decided. It would serve Emma right if she lost her boyfriend to the all-too-dark Lily who everyone wanted to ignore.
Frankly, anything that tore Emma down a peg or two was worth doing in Lily's eyes.
Maybe he would ask David to teach him to drive.
Walking across town all the time, now that he didn't have Emma to drive or teleport him around, was really becoming annoying. He'd heard that real towns had public transportation, but even Killian knew that Storybrooke wasn't typical for the Land Without Magic. His one experience in New York was more than enough to keep him from venturing outwards again, but that didn't mean that he couldn't learn to drive. Even if doing it one-handed would be complicated, he thought wryly. Still, it was worth asking about.
Killian was still trying to figure out how he felt about Emma telling him that she needed space and then walking right back into his arms when she was shaken. On one hand, he thought that was a good sign—she still needed him, even if she didn't want to admit it. On the other, Killian Jones was no fool. He had plenty of experience with women, and he could always tell when a relationship was coming to an end. Usually, that was his cue to end it before his romantic interest could, but he'd never been so attached to any of them as he was Emma. Except Milah. Milah… Damn it all, thinking of her still hurt. Even after all these years, he supposed a part of his heart would always belong to Milah. He hadn't been a good man when he'd been with her, but he'd been happy, and so had she. Killian had always thought he could make a woman happy, though, so what had gone wrong with Emma?
He wished he knew. But for now, he couldn't afford to dwell on that. Emma wasn't his only tie to the heroes, despite what Mordred had said. With or without her, Killian was going to be a better man. He'd done some soul searching recently, and he liked who he had been since meeting Emma. Once, he'd told her that he'd needed a reason to be better, and maybe he had. Then. Now he was closer to being the good man he'd been before his brother's death, and Killian wasn't going to stray from that path. He had friends amongst the heroes—family, even, as strange as that was. Thinking about being related to the Crocodile was still a bit too much for him, but having Baelfire as a cousin was actually rather nice. That made Henry his first cousin once removed, and even if he didn't have another connection to any of them, that was enough. Better than being related to Mordred, anyway.
Killian had little hope that his uncle would stop trying to kill Emma, or that he'd stop sheltering Zelena. If Mordred did—and stopped the inconvenient habit he had of leaving crucial bits of truth out—Killian would be happy to build a relationship with him. But he wasn't a fool, and Mordred had tricked him once. That wasn't going to happen twice.
"I didn't expect you to come here." Mordred's voice floated over to him almost as soon as crossed through the castle's gates, and Killian turned to find his uncle leaning against the outer wall.
"Well, I hardly expected to find out that I had another uncle when you tried to kill the cousin I didn't know about, so I think we're even," he retorted.
Mordred's smile was crooked. "Nor did I."
"How could you not have known? She's your bloody mother. Doesn't she keep track of how many babies she pops out?" That was the part that Killian couldn't quite wrap his mind around. Either Morgan had known and said nothing, or she was a lot stupider than he'd taken her for.
"Apparently she neglected to tell me about the last one because she assumed he was dead for several centuries." Now his uncle's face twisted up in an angry sneer. "You're not the only one who was in the dark about this."
"Well, isn't this just lovely company to be in?" Killian snorted. "By the way, you're going to need a bloody map to keep track of the mess you've just become related to."
"What in the world are you talking about?"
"Henry. The boy's related to half the town and all the blasted heroes. Some of them twice over." Let's not even add in the part about how I was involved with one of his grandmothers or how your father killed the other grandmother, he didn't add. That would have only confused Mordred, who looked plenty confused already. "He's your grand-nephew, in case you hadn't figured it all out yet."
"I know that part," Mordred snapped, looking peevish.
Killian merely shrugged. "I'd hardly blame you if you couldn't keep it straight. Took me months to work it all out, what with the lad's adopted mother being his step-great-grandmother, which makes his adopted aunt his step-great-aunt. His birth mother is also his step-niece, if you ignore the—"
"Enough!" Mordred looked like his head was ready to split open, and the first word was a shout before he made an obvious effort to contain his frustration. "I've heard quite enough, thank you."
"Glad to be of assistance." Killian couldn't help grinning; needling Mordred was rather enjoyable, particularly after the heartache Mordred had caused him. Serves you right, Uncle Mine.
"This…complicates matters remarkably."
He laughed. "That's the understatement of the year, Uncle. Are you going to explain to Henry that you still want to kill or otherwise destroy his birth mother, who is, by the way, also now related to you through him, or shall I be the bearer of good news?"
Mordred glared. "No. I am finished with that." He took a deep breath as Killian blinked, unable to believe his ears. "My mother has made a relevant point: we have a far more pressing enemy. The Dark One can wait."
"Excuse me?" Killian held up a hand, his eyebrows mating with his hairline. "Did you just…change your mind on that? Were you not the one calling the Dark One an 'abomination' and all that other…stuff?"
"The Dark One is an abomination, but the Black Fairy is far more dangerous. We must stop her first."
"The black what? She's only a legend."
"Oh, no. She's very real, and she's here in Storybrooke." Mordred smiled grimly. "There is much to be done."
Emma still wasn't used to getting texts from Rumplestiltskin. She hadn't been entirely certain that his antique flip phone could send texts, but apparently it could, because she and Regina had received the same summons to the pawn shop. Part of her—the part that was still Savior and sometimes forgot she was the Dark One—instinctively mistrusted him, even though she knew better than that, now. She was the one with the toxic darkness boiling inside her, listening to it whisper and try to pull her off track. Yes, she was doing better these days, at least if she pretended she hadn't been cruel enough to use Killian to make herself feel better, but she was still the Dark One. And Rumplestiltskin was the Sorcerer, which made the darkness inside her hate him, too.
Living inside her mind was becoming a confusing mess, and if Emma hadn't had a firm grip on herself, it would have been worse. I've just got to stay away from Guinevere so she can't set me off again, she decided. Too bad I can't kill her, but trying that only got me into a deal that keeps me from helping the people I care about.
"You have any idea what this is about?" Regina asked as they appeared outside the shop almost simultaneously.
"I was hoping you did," she admitted. Emma couldn't chase the tenseness away, and she didn't know why. She'd gone to Rumplestiltskin for help multiple times since becoming the Dark One, and he'd never done anything to earn this much mistrust. He'll ally with his new brother, a voice inside her whispered, and it took Emma a long moment to realize those weren't her thoughts. Shut up, she told the darkness angrily. This unease wasn't hers. She didn't have to feel like this.
Regina paused before opening the door. "You in there?"
"Yeah." Emma tried not to scowl. "Let's get on with this."
Following Regina into the shop, Emma was only slightly surprised to find that Belle was there—but she hadn't been expecting Belle to look deathly pale or be standing so close to Rumplestiltskin. But the brunette's eyes were hard and determined, despite how disturbed she looked, so Emma shrugged off the startled look. It wasn't her problem, anyway.
Regina spoke up for the both of them. "What's the emergency this time?"
The Golds exchanged a look, and Emma did notice that Rumplestiltskin waited for Belle to nod before speaking. "It appears we have a bigger problem than we previously knew. Guinevere is not who she claims she is."
"I'm willing to make a deal with you, Dark One. If you don't say a word about my magic—which, as you undoubtedly surmise, is a bit of a closely-held secret—I won't get in your way. I'll let you do what you want, unless, of course, it involves killing my dear husband. I can't have that." The memory of those words sent a shiver down Emma's spine, as did the vague image flirting through her mind of Guinevere with the dagger in hand, standing over some Dark One as Emma's long-dead predecessor writhed in pain.
"Please tell me you're not going to make us guess." Regina, as always, found something to complain about. Emma just grimaced.
"Emma?" Belle's voice was quiet, but it was the understanding in those blue eyes that made Emma uneasy. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
But she couldn't shake that memory, even though it wasn't her own. That will be you, Nimue's voice pointed out, cold with certainty. If you don't destroy her first, she will enslave you. Another shiver shook her, but on its heels came hard determination. No. Emma wasn't going to let that happen. She kept the dagger on her person at all times for a reason, and she damn well wasn't going to let some queen of a dead kingdom get ahold of it.
"She's the Black Fairy." Rumplestiltskin's words made Emma's head snap around to meet his eyes, and suddenly everything made sense. The power Emma couldn't quantify, the woman's arrogant and cold confidence, and the terror mixed with hatred that the Dark One inside her felt all clicked into place.
Emma felt sick.
"You've got to be kidding me," Regina spat. "I thought Blue had—"
"Blue lies." The words were out before Emma could even think about them, and she didn't care if they were the darkness' or her own. They were true. "The only question is how long Blue's known, not if it's true. I know it's true."
Rumplestiltskin got in before Regina could question that. "Instinct or memory?"
"Both." She grimaced. She still couldn't break that deal, not unless she wanted attention from the damn Black Fairy. A few years earlier, Emma would have scoffed and dismissed the entire idea of fearing a fairy, but even the darkness inside her was afraid. And she wouldn't forget 'Guinevere's' threat to take her dagger. Not for a moment.
"Okay, so the ultimate evil of legend is married to King Arthur. How the hell did no one know about that until now?" Regina demanded, bringing the conversation back to the point.
"My…mother just told us." He sounded hesitant, and for some reason, that made Rumplestiltskin tighten his arm around Belle.
Wait a minute! Emma's head snapped around so quickly that her neck cracked as she glared at Belle. "She's your grandmother."
"I didn't know." The librarian's objection was quiet, and she looked disturbed, but the darkness inside Emma didn't care.
You have leverage. Take the girl and use the only advantage you have. Make a deal you can—
No! Emma was not a monster, and she would not betray her friends like that. Not even when magic tried to fill her hands and force her mind, she would not be like that. These people trusted her, and she would not repay that with treachery. She was in control. She had to be. With an effort, Emma pulled her magic back, forced it down and sucked it inside herself. Only then did she notice the other magic in the air, notice the defenses that had snapped up to counter any possible attack. Regina had moved well out of the line of fire and was eying Emma and Rumplestiltskin warily, and even Belle seemed to be concerned. Could she feel that? Did she have magic, too?
It didn't matter. Emma let out a deep breath and tried to smile. It came out as a wince. "Sorry."
"It's not your fault." Surprisingly, it was Belle who replied, but Rumplestiltskin's magic slowly dissipated. The Sorcerer only nodded.
"So, is this where you say 'I told you so'?" Regina sounded a little more cautious than caustic, now, and the look she sent Emma's way was worried. "Because, well, you were right. She's a bigger problem than Mordred. Do we know what she wants?"
"The short version is that she wants to collapse the walls between magical realms and rule them all." Rumplestiltskin said that without flinching, but even Emma could grasp the magical repercussions of that, particularly now with so much knowledge and power rolling through her mind.
"She's mad." Regina gaped. "That…that would make Camelot's problems look like a nice summer picnic. Time would turn inside out, people would merge into monsters, and the fae would come out of whatever crevice they've been kept in and play with all of us like toys."
"Exactly."
Emma knew they were missing something, though. "Why hasn't she done it already?"
"She lacks the power. She needs at least two original powers at her disposal, including her own. The Greater Sapphire might suffice, or—"
"You could do it." Emma met his eyes squarely.
"I could. But I won't."
Even the darkness believed that, and Emma just nodded.
"Morgan has the Greater Sapphire, now," Belle supplied. "And whatever Mordred's faults are, whatever else he's done, Morgan says he won't ally with my—my grandmother."
"Do we believe her?" Regina asked, looking at Rumplestiltskin.
"Yes." He wasn't the type to volunteer more, but Emma felt like they needed it. Or maybe her skin was just crawling wildly and she needed the distraction.
She gestured for him to say more, not caring if she sounded rude. "Why?"
"If you know your history—or query the memories inside you—you'll know that she's fought Danns' a'Bhàis for centuries. In this, at least, she can be trusted." Rumplestiltskin's face closed off as he shrugged, but just hearing that name made Emma shiver. "And we need what she knows."
"Besides, if Morgan wanted to help her, she wouldn't have kept the Greater Sapphire away from her since before the fall of Camelot," Belle pointed out.
"Good point." Regina looked at Emma. "Any insights, here?"
Emma wrapped her arms around herself; she felt so damned cold, and she couldn't banish the creeping feeling of terror that so many her predecessors felt at the mere mention of the Black Fairy. Her voice was barely a whisper. "No. Just that we have to stop her."
"Fine." Now Regina glanced at Belle. "Are you with us? She's your grandmother."
Belle didn't even hesitate. "If she's threatening everyone, she has to be stopped. She doesn't get my trust or my allegiance automatically. That has to be earned."
Even Regina wasn't going to argue with that tone, not with Rumplestiltskin standing so closely to Belle and looking at her like she was the center of the universe. Besides, they all knew that Belle was defined by her ability to do the right thing, even when doing so broke her heart.
She'll still enslave you, Nimue's voice whispered. Just you wait.
A/N: Stay tuned for Chapter Fifty-Three—"Ambitious at Last", in which Zelena antagonizes Morgan, Henry asks Archie for advice, David and Belle team up to look for Lancelot, and Bae brings Killian to the shop to make peace with his Uncle Rumplestiltskin.
