The Knight of Swords tarot card depicts an armored knight on a white horse, charging ahead, sword raised to scatter his enemies. He acts bravely but impetuously, ignoring the storm brewing in the background.

"I've been neglecting you lately," Belfrey said to Stacy over breakfast. It was just the two of them this morning, Ivy having left the house early. "School starts next week, so I thought we could spend some time together first, mother and daughter."

"Ok." Stacy sounded more resigned than enthusiastic.

Belfrey smiled more brightly and stepped up her game. "We'll go somewhere I know you'll enjoy: the botanical garden."

Ah, there was a flicker of interest. Stacy looked at her mother. "Really? I thought you didn't like plants."

"Now, darling, that's an exaggeration. Plants have their place in a well-ordered civilization."

"Hah." Stacy shot her a rebellious look. "Locked away in little concrete boxes?"

Belfrey sighed. "Let's not argue." The sooner she could awaken Anastasia, the better. Belfrey had clearly left 'Stacy' too long in Ivy's dubious care, allowing this seed of discontent to grow unchecked.

The botanical garden was a pleasant enough place, Belfrey admitted, and she didn't mind indulging her daughter, but she had another purpose in bringing Stacy here. The Amulet of Rebirth, being Gothel's creation, could only be activated inside a sacred grove. The botanical garden was the only place in Hyperion Heights where Belfrey was able to find the necessary selection of trees to satisfy the magical requirements.

She had come here the night before to consecrate the site with water from a spring and marked out a circle with invisible chalk. Wards drawn across the path discouraged intrusion. Now she stood her daughter in the center of the circle and reached for the amulet in her handbag.

"Stacy, you may think I have no respect for nature, but the truth is, we have a family tradition of, well..." Belfrey chuckled, covering her discomfort as best she could.

"What tradition?" Stacy asked.

"Perhaps in the past I've made light of your 'tree-huggers', but the truth is, in our family, we don't hug trees. We become one with them, and they gift us with certain insights." Belfrey met the skeptical eyes of her daughter, then lifted the amulet. "This amulet is a symbol of that bond. I want you to wear it now."

Stacy let her mother slip the chain over her head. She touched the stone curiously. "Wow. But what about Ivy? Did you give her one, too? How come I've never seen her wearing—"

"Ivy chose a different path," Belfrey interrupted. "But you're different. Your heart is more open."

Stacy looked troubled. "I don't know, Mom..."

"But I do. Now close your eyes, darling. You need to clear your mind and concentrate." As soon as her daughter complied, Belfrey took out a pocket knife and slashed a line across her left palm. The amulet was made to grant the gift of the sacred grove's wisdom to the wearer, but if it was corrupted with human blood, then a different awakening could occur. Belfrey closed her hand around the amulet. "That's it. Can you feel the energy flowing into you?"

"I'm not sure." Stacy's eyes moved behind the lids, and Belfrey saw her risk a peek. "What's it supposed to... whoa... I do feel something."

And so did Belfrey. Her palm felt like ice, and the ice was spreading. She gasped as the chill crawled up her forearm. Was this meant to happen? She didn't dare let go until she had Anastasia back, so she forced herself to endure the cold.

"This is weird." Stacy's voice wobbled, and she didn't say anything more.

The ice reached Belfrey's shoulder. Spread across her chest. Her voice came out in a cracked whisper, "Just hang on..."

Her daughter trembled, eyes now screwed shut against the light that pressed against her skin from the inside, threatening to burst free. Magic. Magic that Stacy didn't believe in. Belfrey's magic, siphoned out of her by the amulet and into her daughter.

At that realization, Belfrey tried to release her grip on the amulet, but her hand was held fast. There would be no release until she was sucked dry. She fought down her panic, fought the urge to struggle. This was all for her beloved Anastasia. Belfrey didn't need magic as long as she controlled magic, and unlike Drizella, Ana had always been loyal to her mother.

Finally it was done. Belfrey sank to her knees, drained. Her left hand, not even bleeding anymore, dropped from the amulet, numb. She massaged it with her right hand, going from numbness to a prickle of pins and needles.

Then Stacy — Anastasia? — swayed alarmingly. Belfrey just managed to soften her daughter's fall as she collapsed in front of her. Spasms of red-tinged lightning crisscrossed her skin, but she didn't open her eyes. Belfrey lifted her awkwardly and staggered to the nearest bench, where she pulled Stacy into a sitting position.

The magical storm died down at last, and the girl's eyes opened a slit. "Mom?"

"I'm here, darling." Belfrey sat down next to her daughter, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"What's going on?"

Belfrey looked at her carefully, trying to keep the hope out of her voice. "Do you remember?"

"Yeah, I guess." Stacy glanced down, her hand rising to touch the amulet around her neck. "So is this like some electroshock thing? Is that why I fainted?"

Belfrey froze. No. No, it couldn't have failed. She whispered, "Anastasia... do you remember Opona?"

Her daughter stared at her in confusion. "Who's Opona? Oh wait, was that one of your aunts?"

Belfrey bit back a wail of despair. "No. No, it's not important."

Stacy — it was only Stacy — ducked her head and pulled off the amulet, offering it to her mother. "Here, you better take it back. I don't want to black out again."

Belfrey pushed it back. "Don't be absurd. The pendant is harmless. You were simply standing too long with your knees locked; that's why you fainted. It used to happen to one of my schoolmates in the chorus." There was no schoolmate — the memory was fake — but it was enough to convince Stacy of her mother's veracity.

"Oh." Stacy pocketed the amulet. "I'm sorry I didn't become one with the trees or whatever. It's cool you're trying, Mom, but I don't need more bling. I just wish you'd stop digging up every last bit of nature we have left."

Belfrey was barely listening. Damn that witch. The amulet should have worked. Maybe it was a matter of time? Containing her disappointment, she stood up and nodded at Stacy to follow her. "Nature is a state of mind, dear. Now come on, we have the rest of the botanical garden to appreciate."

Sometimes Rumplestiltskin missed having a castle, and even more, the secure vault where he kept his collection of dangerous artifacts. Weaver's closest equivalent was the evidence locker at the Hyperion Heights Precinct police station. Under the Dark Curse, few people ever ventured there except Weaver himself.

He waited until no one was around, then smuggled the deactivated android into a big metal cabinet in the evidence room and made sure it was securely locked. Of course, Gothel had once managed to slither into the castle vault back in the Enchanted Forest, so he didn't get his hopes up too high, but it would have to do for now. As long as Gothel — now going by "Eloise Gardener" — didn't escape, no one else should be able to break in. If his ploy worked, if he had done enough to throw Rogers off the scent...

But it seemed he hadn't.

Rogers showed up at his doorstep, demanding answers. He had proven himself a detective after all, angrily shoving the forged journal page in Weaver's chest. Explaining his deductions, burning with rage at his partner's betrayal, he slammed Weaver against the wall. A spike of agony shot through him. He gasped as his vision went hazy, and he barely heard Rogers accusing him of being in Belfrey's pocket.

"She put you up to this!"

"Yes," Weaver admitted, once the agony of his half-healed wound had receded. He wondered how Rogers had made the connection. Gothel's geas at work, silently prompting its victim?

"Why?" Rogers grated, his eyes full of confusion and betrayal.

Betrayal?

Weaver was too shaken by the hurt radiating from his partner's question to answer right away. Betrayed? As if he had trusted Weaver. As if he had expected more from a cop widely thought corrupt. As if he had liked Weaver. Or worse than liked. A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside his chest, that he would have set loose if he hadn't been struggling so hard to keep his breathing even.

Was fate playing games with them again? Whatever feeling this was, it wasn't real. But Rumplestiltskin knew, even if Weaver did not, that some things could be changed by magic, and some could not. Whatever lurked in his partner's heart could not have been planted by a wish or a curse.

Killian, you idiot. You brought this on yourself. It still wasn't real. And isn't that what your other self said about you and your whole existence?

But he knew that all Rogers could see was that he had lied to him. As he had, dancing on the line between truth and illusion to obtain the results he needed.

Let him think what he likes. What does it matter?

Why did it bother him that a cursed Hook thought badly of him? But he couldn't forget that this compulsion, this open case that consumed Rogers — it had been meant for him. For Rumplestiltskin, for Weaver. Yet Killian Jones had stepped in the path of Gothel's intention and diverted the spell onto himself. Not to pay a debt, not for a deal, not to win a love that by then could serve no useful purpose.

He couldn't explain any of this, not in any way that Rogers could accept. "Everything I've done in this case, it's to protect you from your bloody self."

"No, you don't care about me. You don't care about anyone." Rogers loosed him and backed away, one step, then another.

Weaver winced. Why should it hurt to hear these words from someone who wasn't even real? Yet it did. It made no sense. It was mad. Sanity fled in the face of their madness. Rogers turned to go, and Weaver couldn't bear to let that be their parting. "Rogers. Wait."

Rogers hesitated. Trembled in his uncertainty. Turned just enough for a wary glance towards Weaver.

Two swift steps closed the distance between them, and Weaver reached for the only truth (the only magic) that could cross the border between wish and reality. He met his partner's astonished eyes. Stretched out to brush his fingers against the other's cheek, dropping to cup his chin. "You're wrong."

The taller man's lips parted in shock, but no words came out. It wasn't rejection.

Weaver's breath escaped in a barely perceptible sigh. Dared he hope? He remembered the feel of a heart in his fist. How fragile was a life, and now Rogers looked at him with such innocent longing. It was a lie. Or did the curse finally allow him to be the man he wished to be? Perhaps the spark of kindness long extinguished in the pirate was rekindled in the detective.

The moment stretched out into expectation. He felt the tension grow into an invitation. Into an inevitability.

Weaver shut his eyes and hoped for the best as he pulled them together into a kiss. He felt Rogers freeze under his touch and stepped back at once, his eyes snapping open again to see... to see that it was still Rogers gawping at him.

"What the hell was that?" Rogers asked once he had recovered his wits enough to speak.

"I suppose true love was too much to hope for." Weaver turned away, his hands shaking before he steadied them, resting his weight on a table. Everything ached, a throb of pain providing fitting accompaniment to his dark thoughts. He suddenly felt too tired to deal with Rogers. What had he been thinking? Rumplestiltskin hadn't touched anyone that way in decades. What possessed him to start now?

"You're a bloody lunatic, Weaver!"

This time, he made no protest when Rogers left. There was nothing more he was willing to do to stop him. The truth sounded mad. The geas was too strong for Rumplestiltskin, in his current state, to break.

If the only way to be free of the geas was to fulfill it, perhaps he could let Rogers do as he was compelled, then step in and take Gothel down in an ambush. Bae wouldn't approve, but he would like Gothel's plans even less, if it came to that. He had in his arsenal a handgun, the Blue Fairy's wand, and the unpredictable magic of the enchanted book contained in the wand. And perhaps a killer android...

Weaver sighed and unlocked the big metal cabinet again. If only the android had come with an instruction manual. As it was, he would have to risk life and limb to suss out the details of its operation.

Rogers stumbled out of the police station, outrage and confusion battling for dominance in his mind. He needed to get away, needed to clear his thoughts. Did that shady bastard think he could seduce Rogers into dropping the case?

Rogers cursed himself for hoping, just for a moment, that it had been real, but he knew he was fooling himself. Weaver had sensed a vulnerability and taken advantage, that was all. Why had he ever expected anything different?

It's to protect you...

Lies. It had to be a lie, just as the faked page had been a lie. Rogers kept walking blindly, vowing not to fall for Weaver's tricks again.

I suppose true love was too much to hope for.

Love? Rogers twisted his lips into a snarl. As if Weaver would know what love was. A manipulator, that was all he was. A psychopath toying with the people who looked up to him.

People like Tilly. His thoughts still in turmoil, Rogers found himself heading for the troll sculpture.

She was already there, perched up on the giant stone hand, legs dangling. Waiting for him. Waiting for his accusations.

"Tilly."

"Detective Rogers." The smile was gone from her face. Tilly stared at him with sad, guilty eyes. "You figured it out?"

Rogers nodded tightly. "You lied to me."

"You here to arrest me, detective?"

"I'm here to find Eloise Gardener."

Tilly's eyes widened. "I don't know where she is. Honest."

"You haven't been so far." Did she think he was that gullible? "Why should I believe you now?"

Tilly shook her head. "Believe me, you don't want to find her."

"Why? Why are you and Weaver so hellbent on stopping me? I thought you at least might give a damn that a girl is lost and needs help!"

"You're the one who's lost, detective!" Tears ran from her eyes, and Tilly brushed them away in a furious, frustrated sweep of her hand before sliding off the sculpture and dashing away through the gap in the wall.

Rogers had no more luck following her than he had before. His anger had cooled, but not his determination. Someone, somewhere, had to know something, or Weaver wouldn't be going to such lengths to throw Rogers off the scent. And he had confirmed that Victoria Belfrey was involved. It was progress.

The elephant was bound into the magic of the curse. The broken Rubik's cube was tied to Alice, and now to Drizella herself. Alice and Drizella, Tilly and Ivy — the cube bridged the gap, with pieces missing. The cube was also a map of sorts, representing the twists and turns of their realities, combining and recombining to make the world anew. The dried yellow flower she found in Stacy's room was from Gothel's garden. Ivy hadn't recognized it at the time, but Drizella now understood why her mother had recoiled to see it in this world. Even dried, it retained a speck of Gothel's magic.

Constructing a new spell out of the three elements was something that Alice could have done as easily as breathing, but Drizella thought she could manage it, given time. Just think like Alice, she told herself.

"What are you doing?" Stacy stood at the doorway, eyeing Ivy suspiciously.

Ivy startled. She instinctively flipped her pages of scribbled notes upside down. Hadn't she shut her bedroom door? Damn the curse for making her still be living in her mother's house when she should have had her own apartment. "What are you doing? Don't you know how to knock?"

Stacy shrugged. "Can I borrow your multi-meter?"

"Since when do you even know how to use one? Never mind." Ivy rummaged in another drawer for the device, then flung it at her sister. Who could doubtless look up an instructional video for whatever she thought she was going to do with it. Summer science homework? Her cursed memories came up blank. "Have fun."

Stacy caught the instrument, but lingered at Ivy's doorstep. "Did Mom ever give you, like, any heirloom jewelry?"

"Any what?" Ivy boggled.

Stacy nodded her chin at Ivy's desk. "But she gave you that elephant thingy? Wasn't that Mom's?"

Ivy sighed. "Fine. Yeah. It's hardly jewelry." She squinted at her sister, suddenly suspicious. "Why? Did Mother give you something?"

"Yes, but she was being all weird about it."

"Weird how?"

"She took me to the botanical gardens, did this whole pagan ritual thing, babbled something about trees. Said it was a family tradition." Stacy shrugged again. "Sounded fake to me, but if she did it to you, too...?"

Oh, very subtle, Mother, Ivy groaned to herself. She must have been trying to wake Stacy, and failed miserably. "It's probably just her therapist telling her to share something meaningful with her offspring, and since her life has no meaning, only money and real estate, she had to make something up."

Stacy looked dubious, but didn't argue. "Yeah, maybe." She shut the door and left.

Ivy went back to constructing her spell. If her plan worked, both her mother and Gothel would be safely contained, curse or no curse. Then she could concentrate on waking Alice, and between the two of them, it would only be a matter of time before they broke the curse for everyone.

The doctor's name was Sage. She looked as harmless as the blind baker, but Hansel didn't let himself forget her guilt. She had won the friendship and trust of countless innocents, then sold them to Gothel. Hansel had only pieced together the evidence months after the herbalist had fled Henry's kingdom, once he had access to the king's spymaster, but by that time, his duties kept him from pursuing her. No doubt she had taken on a new name and cover, but Hansel doubted she had changed her ways.

Nick, with the skills taught by the curse, found out where Sage lived, her work hours, her daily habits, everything he could. Hansel was the one who plotted cold-blooded murder, overriding any qualms Nick had. He just had to wait for the right opportunity.

Ivy was in her car when Detective Rogers stormed out of the police station, too lost in his own thoughts to notice when he was being followed.

She followed Rogers, but found Alice — Tilly. Parking as close as she dared, Ivy watched the reunion of father and daughter. This was closer than they had been able to approach in the other land. Of course, that was only because they weren't father and daughter here. As long as they weren't themselves, the poison in Hook's heart stayed dormant.

Ivy's fingers tightened on the door release, white with the effort to keep herself from rushing out as she longed to do. Let Rogers and Tilly have this time together even if they didn't know to value it; they would be glad of it once they were awake and found themselves in a land with magic after all.

Ivy still didn't know how magic had been brought here. She suspected her mother or Gothel. But now that it was here, Ivy wasn't about to ignore it. She touched the talisman she had made from the cube, elephant, and flower. She wouldn't know until she used it whether it would work, but she had checked it with every magical probe she knew to cast and triple-checked her notes. Now she needed to find Gothel, but she had to do it right.

Ivy watched from the car as Tilly ran off and Rogers gave chase, to no avail. Time to leave, before he noticed her here and decided to ask her questions. Later, she found him at the police station.

"Detective Rogers? I heard you were investigating the Eloise Gardener case." Ivy smiled, waiting to see if he remembered her. When he nodded without any sign of recognition, she introduced herself. "My name is Ivy Belfrey. I'm Victoria Belfrey's daughter. I have reason to believe she had something to do with Eloise Gardener's disappearance."

At that, the detective's eyes flashed eagerly. Had he already suspected her mother? Then his eagerness dampened into suspicion, and Ivy suppressed a sigh. "Is that so? What reason might that be?"

Ivy laced her fingers together, not needing to feign her nervousness. She dropped her gaze and said softly, "Look, I've worked for my mother for as long as I can remember, and she's done some questionable things..."

Rogers snorted. "Is that what you call it?"

"Fine. Unethical, if that's how you want to see it." Ivy shook her head. "And yes, I've helped her, because I thought — I thought if I was a good and loyal daughter, she would..." She had to stop before she choked on the lump that rose in her throat. This was getting too close to the truth.

"In that case, why are you betraying her now?" Rogers looked at her darkly, a hint of anger tinging his own words, as if she had offended him personally.

"Because this time she's gone too far. Someone has to stop her before she really hurts someone."

Rogers scoffed. "You think she's kidnapped Eloise? You have evidence for this?"

Ivy shook her head. "It's just things she said, little hints. But I know I can get you proof."

"You haven't confronted your mother with your suspicions?"

"I didn't want to end up in whatever hole she dropped Eloise into. Some of the people who work for her... they don't ask questions, they just do whatever my mother orders them to. And they could snap me in half like a toothpick."

"And you went along with all this for how many years?"

Ivy flinched. "I didn't want to. Look, detective, I'm here now, all right?"

"Sorry." Rogers took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry. I appreciate your coming forward with this, Ms. Belfrey."

"'Ivy'. Ms. Belfrey is my mother."

"Ivy." Rogers smiled, most of his initial hostility dissipating. "Thank you for doing the right thing."

Did he remember her at all? Ivy wondered if any inkling remained, anything that made her seem familiar to him. He had seemed to share a bond with Tilly, even though she had run off at the end of their conversation. And where was Rumplestiltskin? Ivy now knew the true identity of the senior detective in their partnership, but Rogers hadn't mentioned him. Weaver had been working under the table for her mother, but she didn't know if he was awake or not. Even under the curse, she had frequently suspected the man of having his own agenda. She ventured warily, "What about your partner? I think my mother may have him on her payroll... unofficially, you understand."

Rogers' smile vanished and the anger returned. "Weaver? That shady bastard can go to hell. I won't let him stop us."

Ivy nodded slowly. "I hope not."

"Let me worry about Weaver. What have you got on your mother?"

"I managed to install a bit of spyware on her phone." Ivy pulled out her own phone and logged into the reporting app. "She doesn't keep anything too incriminating on it, but I can track her GPS. We can follow her to where she's keeping Eloise prisoner."

"How do you know she'll go there?"

"She doesn't trust anyone else with it. I know she's been handling it personally."

"Handling what, exactly? What does your mother want with the girl?"

Ivy sighed. Rogers wouldn't believe the truth, naturally. "She used to work for my mother. Unofficially. Running errands to, well, unsavory types my mother didn't want to be associated with. Only Eloise came across something — some secret — and went into hiding. Until Mother caught up with her."

"What secret?"

Ivy shrugged. "If I knew, I'd probably be locked up next to Eloise."

Rogers frowned at her, and Ivy wasn't sure if he believed her story, but he finally nodded. "We'll find her and get to the bottom of this."

Two days later, at the ungodly hour of three in the morning, they tracked her mother to a small, rundown house in a decaying suburb.

"Stay here," Rogers ordered her after calling for backup. He didn't wait, but headed in alone, gun drawn.

Ivy waited for him to reach the house, then slipped out of the car and followed him at a distance. She heard him confronting her mother.

"Where's Eloise Gardener?"

"Get off my property." Belfrey sounded as confident as always. "You don't have a warrant. I'll have your badge if you take a step further."

"Exigent circumstances," snarled Rogers. "I have reason to believe the girl is in danger." He closed in, somehow snapping a pair of handcuffs on Belfrey.

Ivy smiled at the sight, but her mother didn't see her yet. She had to be about to lose her shit, Ivy thought. If Gothel escaped her chains! Shit. Ivy fumbled for the talisman she had prepared, rehearsing the spell in her mind. Any moment now...

And there he was, Detective Rogers, chivalrously escorting the freed prisoner out of the house.

"You don't know what you've done!" came the shout from inside.

Outside the house, Rogers' backup had arrived, more police cars and uniformed officers. Ivy would have to act quickly. She stepped forward just as Rogers and Gothel slowly made their way to one of the police vans.

"Eloise, I'm so glad you're safe," Ivy said, trying to sound concerned. She pretended to reach out for a hug, but her true target was Gothel's head: one quick motion snagged her the single hair she needed to activate her spell.

Gothel shot Ivy a glare, but could do nothing while she was still chained. She smoothed her face into something sickly sweet, meekly clinging to Rogers and calling him her white knight. He would soon have her chains removed, no doubt.

Ivy retreated back into the shadows, concentrating on her spell. She whispered into the talisman as she twisted the strand of hair into the Rubik's cube, "Gothel. Gothel, I bind thee. Gothel..."

"Well, that's a risky move."

"Shit!" Ivy nearly dropped the talisman at the sound of a voice right behind her. She spun around to see Weaver's smirking face. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

Weaver chuckled. "That's nothing to what will happen if that woman has her way."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ivy said stiffly.

"I think you do... Drizella."

Well, that answered one question. Ivy frowned defiantly at him. "Crocodile. What are you doing here? Rogers was meant to keep this operation under wraps."

"And if you had failed, what could he have done to help you?" Weaver glanced over at the cluster of police vehicles. "I was here as your backup, of course."

"I didn't ask for backup."

"Confident. I like it." Weaver smiled. "Not the move I expected, but clever. If your spell holds."

"It will."

"Let's hope so." Weaver eyed the talisman in Ivy's hands. "But I'm curious why you went to so much trouble, when she was already contained."

"It seemed cruel to chain up an immortal forever. This way, she can be free, thinking she has everything she wants..." She allowed Weaver to pick up the talisman for a closer look. Even if there was no one else to appreciate her spellwork, at least there was the former Dark One, and his nod of approval made her happier than she wanted to admit.

"A mind trap," he mused. "It seems to share some elements with Alice's tower. The same tower which once imprisoned Gothel."

"But with no visible walls, and no restrictions on her freedom of movement," Ivy explained. "Gothel will be happy, but she won't be able to hurt the rest of us."

"It's creative, I'll give you that. And meanwhile, they're going to put your mother behind bars."

"Exactly. A win-win scenario, wouldn't you say?"

Weaver didn't disagree. That was enough to Ivy to count it as a victory.