"Did you find me something?!" she glanced up when Granny called out and saw Lancelot and the dwarves had returned. Suspended from his hand upside down she could easily see two pheasants. And she could just as easily see Henry's face fall when he saw the birds. She'd have to buy him a nice hamburger when they got back to Storybrooke.

"Well at least we've got protein," Granny said unimpressed as she looked at the birds.

"Don't forget us now," Leroy grumbled. Each dwarf had a burlap sack with them that was certainly stuffed full of something. It was the only explanation for the strain on the bags, but what it was she couldn't tell from where she sat. So she set her bell jar aside and moved to Granny's side. She took Neal out of her arms as she examined their contents. "Apples, carrots, cabbage…not much but it's something at least."

"Don't forget mine!" Happy insisted pushing his bag forward and opening it for her. Berries. Red, blue, and purple berries that were beginning to stain the bag. A smile threatened to erupt on Granny's face.

"Looks like stew for dinner and pie for dessert. Hey, Henry, come help me with these!" she hollered. Tired from hours of play with Roland Henry eagerly raced forward and took the sacks to help Granny back inside. Pie. That would be something he'd probably enjoy eating. How Granny was planning on baking it was another story when their electricity had already run down but then again Granny had been baking pies without electricity much longer than she'd been baking them with electricity. She wasn't particularly worried. About Granny at least. About herself and Rumpelstiltskin…she honestly didn't know what to think about that.

Have faith. Always have faith in the love that you have, no matter what. She knew that she'd told Henry that, but did she really believe it?!

There was a time that she had believed it; there was a time that she'd believed nothing else mattered because she knew that she loved him and he loved her but then so much had gotten in the way! He'd put so much in between them!

And then she had too.

She'd put entire towns between them and more importantly she'd put one very small, very big, bright orange line between them.

She'd been angry. Understandably angry. She still didn't see any other alternatives to what had happened that night at the town line, she'd been protecting Henry, it was the promise that she'd made to Neal…but she also couldn't ignore the fact that she'd been protecting herself too in a very big way. Perhaps in too big of a way.

What had happened had happened, what would happen when she got back...

She held Neal secure on her lap and glanced at the bell jar next to her. She didn't know what would happen when she got back. There wasn't an option that she could come up with that she liked, there wasn't an option that wasn't terrifying and difficult all at the same time. There wasn't an option that promised her happiness, or one that protected her heart from turmoil and ever feeling what she had that night at the town line again. He wasn't the Dark One anymore, that was true, but the question still remained, how much of what he'd done had been the Dark One and how much had been Rumpelstiltskin. He wasn't dead, he still had hundreds of years of knowledge and cunning and secrets locked up inside of his head. How dangerous was he now? Did she even know who he was anymore? Did she know who she was?

Always have faith in the love you have. If only it was that simple. She knew that she loved him and that he loved her, that was something she knew that she couldn't outrun. But their love wasn't what had caused her faithlessness. It was him.

"You seem troubled."

She glanced up some time later to find Lancelot by her side, back where she sat huddled on the steps with Neal and her rose by her side. Troubled was one way to put it she supposed. Endlessly confused and uselessly confounded was another way. And if it was Robin or Mary Margaret or even Merlin asking she might have admitted that. But she didn't know Lancelot. He was just as much a stranger to her as Merida had been and she didn't want to think about what happened the last time she talked to a stranger. Usually it ended up with her being kidnapped. For better or worse sometimes, but kidnapped all the same.

"Everything's fine," she lied. "I'm a little tired but who isn't."

"From your journey," he assumed. "I hope Merida made it home alright."

"You knew her well?!" she gawked.

"Our cells were across from each other. We had little in common but our dislike of Arthur but we had all the time in the world to talk. I liked her. She had spunk."

Spunk. Fire. Confidence. All good words. All good words she'd love to have for herself.

"She did make it home alright, didn't she?" Lancelot pushed.

"Oh! Yes, I'm sorry, yes of course she did," she recalled, remembering she'd told almost no one of their trip and if Lancelot really was a friend then he'd be concerned. Concerned about someone besides himself, something maybe she needed to learn to do a little bit better. "She rescued her brothers, defeated the warriors, unified the clans, and took her crown back," she informed him happily. "Last I saw her she'd done everything she'd intended to do."

Lancelot smiled. "Good. She deserves it! We all deserve it."

She nodded and though she knew that he was prompting her to talk about what was so "troubling" she ignored it and focused on something else. "King of Camelot…do you think you're ready?" she questioned.

"Only with the right leader by my side," he corrected. "I believe it's Guinevere who is meant to rule the people. She is the heart and soul of this land. I believe that together we'll make an excellent pair."

Her head was spinning. Was it really only a week ago that Mary Margaret and David had spoken of Guinevere being under the same spell they had been? Had it really only been a week ago Mary Margaret declared to them that Lancelot loved Guinevere? It seemed longer. And now that she thought of it…was it really true? They may have been certain about the dust, but could they be certain about the love?

"Mary Margaret thinks the two of you are in love," she suggested as gently as possible, knowing full well it was nearly impossible for a suggestion like that to be "gentle". Still, the look on Lancelot's face gave her the answer without words. Yes, he was certainly in love with her, but was that love reciprocated? "Does she know how you feel about her?"

"We both feel the same," he admitted, glancing out at Roland who was forcing the dwarves to play a game of kick-the-ball with him. "It wasn't always like this," he said almost wistfully. "There was a time things were perfect. Arthur and I were friends, he and Guinevere were in love, he established Camelot, he was the King that they deserved…and then he found Excalibur. It all changed the moment he pulled the sword from the rock and saw it was broken in two. He didn't see what he'd done without the sword and couldn't see what he could do with half of it. He neglected Camelot, neglected the Knights of the Round Table, and neglected his wife in ways no man should all for the other half of that blade."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. A story like that sounded familiar.

"But Guinevere was loyal until the end. She decided to use a magical item, something called the Gauntlet to find the other half of the sword with the hopes that with it, she'd get her husband back and Camelot would get it's king. I went with her because I didn't want her to go on her own." She hung on every word. The Gauntlet. The dagger. Rumple's trip to Camelot that got cut short. Suddenly she knew what he'd gone to do.

"Did you find it? The dagger, I mean, did you find it?"

"We did. In the vault of the Dark One, but it was guarded by the Dark One already and he wouldn't let us take it."

That sounded right. "What did he give you for the Gauntlet?" she questioned quietly, almost afraid of the answer. That stupid Gauntlet, the one that had led them to the town line months ago. She hoped it was worth all the trouble it had caused…but she also feared that it was.

"How did you know?" Lancelot questioned, moving away from her suddenly and looking at her like…like it was years ago. He looked at her like all of Storybrooke first had when she'd been freed from her prison and openly dated him. He looked at her like he didn't know what to make of it all. The truth was, these days, she didn't even know what to make of it all.

"We're…he's…"

"Oh, I know that face," Lancelot commented taking a step closer once more, a small smirk on his face.

"You do?"

He nodded. "You love him just as I love her." She opened her mouth to deny it. Or to at least tell him she wasn't sure, but…

"I do," she admitted, holding back tears. It was the first time she'd openly admitted it and it felt…she didn't know how it felt. There were too many emotions for her to be feeling just one thing. It was true; she knew it was true! She loved him. She still loved him! It was what to do with that love that confused her. "And I know he came home with the Gauntlet after a trip to Camelot years ago and that he never would have given you that dagger, which means he made a deal with you. For what?"

"Sand," Lancelot answered. "The very same sand, that according to your friends here, is currently holding her and all of Camelot prisoner to Arthur."

She groaned and dropped her head into her hands. Of course they'd gotten that from him. All roads led to Rumpelstiltskin, curse or not! "I'm sorry," she apologized.

"For what?"

"For him, for his inability to think about anyone but himself."

"I don't blame him for this," Lancelot explained. She looked up expected to find him looking sympathetic or perhaps sarcastic but the expression on his face was serious. That was...odd. Most people blamed Rumple...but not Lancelot? "The Dark One has done a great many things to deserve blame, but this isn't one of them. Arthur and his hunt for the other half of the sword changed him so much I doubt he'd have ever recovered enough to be the King Camelot needed even if he found it. The Dark One isn't responsible for this mess. Arthur is. And he will never be the person Merlin thought he would be until he takes responsibility for his actions."

"You'd…you'd let him be king again if he took responsibility for what he's done? If he asked forgiveness."

Lancelot smiled and shook his head. "Well, I doubt he'll ever be King again, but…it's impossible to know what's in a person's heart until you know them. If Arthur wants forgiveness, if he wishes to turn his life around and be a contributing member of society, then how can he prove it if we don't give him that opportunity. A long time ago Arthur chose a path because he believed that it was what Merlin wanted. He was wrong, but there are still a million ways that Merlin's prophecy could be right when it comes to him. He deserves to be stripped of his power, but he also deserves to see what he can do when he doesn't have it."


Foreshadowing! Honestly...I don't know where this conversation came from. I started to write the one for Henry and Belle and at some point I knew that I needed to send Henry and Granny inside for when Emma returned to the diner, but I was surprised to find that Lancelot had a conversation with Belle and that the conversation actually went somewhere meaningful! So...what do ya'll think? I'm a little nervous. This is the only chapter I wrote for Lancelot, so I hope that I got his character all right, but I don't really know. Your thoughts?

Thank you, Grace5231973, Fox24, TracyJean, Carlyle23, and Ladybugsmomma for the lovely reviews you left me for the last chapter! I'm glad there is some excitement for MC&U to begin, and I'm happy that MT has been as well received as it has been. I hope I don't drop the ball on the ending! Peace and Happy Reading!