In his journey, there were moments, long stretches of boredom where nothing happened. In contrast, there were also times that he felt as though he was in a carriage that was racing out of control. It felt like the world was spinning faster than usual, that there was far too much happening at just one time. Disorienting as it was, it was that feeling that drove him to feel like he was getting closer to his end goal. He operated best in those conditions, and so it was the feeling that he longed for most of all. But the space in between…that was the difficult part.
The thing about possessing a power that was not his own meant that it gave him information he didn't have, but also kept him guessing. He could see the future, but he didn't always have a clear understanding of it. Sometimes that could be an annoyance, but sometimes it gave him just enough of an edge to outwit others while still keeping life interesting. He never knew when someone he knew was important was going to pop up in his life, or in the life of one of his targets...again.
Snow White was on the run. It wasn't long after her father's funeral that Regina had hired a man, a hunter, to take Snow White into the forest and kill her. But Regina had put her trust in the wrong person, and that poor hunter had put too much faith in the death that awaited him if he returned without Snow White's heart. He'd let the Princess go, and Regina hadn't killed the poor Hunter, but rather taken his heart. She kept him on staff as a guard primarily, but the entire Kingdom knew she kept him as her plaything on the side. Poor fool. From what he understood of the lad, there would have been no harsher punishment than capture.
As for Snow White, she'd run off, escaped to the farthest corner of the Kingdom, it was necessary now that Regina was hunting her. With Leopold dead and Snow on the run, there was no other choice but for her to ascend the throne. She used her magic flagrantly now, striking fear into the heart of all who might try to oppose her. And she spread rumor after rumor of the crimes of Snow White, accusing her of murdering her own father, treachery against the crown, and stealing from her own people. Of course, the Kingdom didn't truly believe her. Snow White had grown up before them, and many remembered how years ago she'd saved them from a bandit, the one that Regina had hired. But it didn't matter. Regina had the power now, and she used it beautifully to finally take the revenge she'd longed for from her step-daughter and hold the Kingdom in her sway. Her mother would be proud.
But Snow White continued to elude the Queen. She was clever with a bow and arrow, good with which berries she could eat and which she couldn't, and she'd been taken in by a family on the edge of the Kingdom, a family the likes of which he'd never anticipated seeing again…
"Well…hello again Granny…" he muttered as the watched the three of them sit down to eat one night. "My oh my, how you've grown."
It had been a long time since he'd see the werewolf who had helped him to acquire that useless tea set of his. She had been important, but he'd never known how and he'd never understood why his visions always only ever referred to her as "Granny". She'd been in her late teens then, maybe early twenties, now she was much older. If he was honest, it wasn't her that gave it away, but the brunette who was sitting across from Snow White. Not only was she the spitting image of the "Granny" he'd once known, but she was also wearing a very familiar red cape. He'd smiled then, the beginnings of a complicated relationship that would span decades. It was interesting.
Of course, sometimes his visions left him no room for shock or surprise. He kept an eye on Jefferson and his new, ever-growing wife, looking for any sign of temptation or hint that he might return to his old ways. But alas, the only thing he ever saw was the birth of his daughter, just as he predicted. Jefferson wrote to him not long after that, informing him of what he already knew, and that the girl was called Grace. He responded by sending him a new hatbox, one with the ability to block the powers of his magical hat from being sensed by others. Jefferson, in his newfound stupidity, would probably think it was kind, but part of him hoped he'd see it for what it was, a gift to represent the burying of something truly spectacular.
That year, at Bae's birthday, he lit a candle and resolved to move on, to forget about Jefferson and the waste that he was, and focus on moving forward. There was still much to do. He had to find his curse. He had to keep watch over Snow White, a far more difficult task now that Regina grew more bloodthirsty by the moment. He had to look after her Prince Charming and ensure they meet one day now that she was of age to carry a little Princess, or in this case, a Savior.
He started his research looking at True Love, the True Love that he knew in his heart James, or Prince Charming, as the Seer insisted, and Snow White would share. But children born of True Love often weren't Saviors at all, simply very magical beings. Saviors were rare. Saviors could have magic but also could not. They were not the result of True Love as magic was in people, they were the result of a curse. A special child born by fate with the ability to defeat a curse. How was he supposed to ensure that this girl, whoever she may be, became the Savior, specifically to his curse. That was the question…
And that was the moment he first felt another problem…one that he should not have.
Chest pain.
It interrupted his genius, stopped his thoughts, silenced the Seer in his head.
It felt like…like a squeeze. He had never had his heart removed from his chest and squeezed, but he imagined that was what it would feel like if he had. He was the Dark One, he'd been the Dark One for a long time, he was no stranger to pain, he got headaches and odd twinges now and again, he simply applied his magic to his ailments and was better. But this was no ailment…there was something magical to the pain.
The pain was gone almost as soon as it had arrived. He supposed if he were mortal he would have ignored it, explained it away as some kind of normal bodily ailment, but that thrill of magic haunted him. He searched the Chronicles, looking for any explanation he could find. There was none. No one mentioned such a pain in their chests, no one talked about ailments they couldn't control.
It was getting ridiculous, he had work to do, he didn't have time to be spending every waking breath on this, he needed to get back to his work on the curse, his research on Saviors…any yet every time he turned away from such a pain, something inside warned him, something inside poked and prodded and whispered that it wasn't nothing, but something. There was nothing in the Chronicles, but he had the sensation he knew, if only he ask the right person, he might find something helpful.
He hadn't been out to Camelot in years. Though he hadn't given up on the tasks Nimue had given him entirely, he'd been devoted in the years since Baelfire left to finding him again. He'd been watching the Apprentice, should the opportunity arise that he might kill the bastard child, he would. Until that opportunity arose, however, that curse and getting back to Baelfire was his main focus. The Dark Ones all seemed to accept that, they'd left him alone ever since the night Bae had gone, leaving him to hear their voices as his own these days, but for once the nagging voice in the back of his head over this pain in his chest wasn't his own, but one he'd not seen in decades.
"Nimue…" he muttered, standing alone on the dark cliff. He was where it had all begun, the place the Dark One was born, the place that all Dark One's felt closest to their power. She'd always promised she would be close if he needed her, and so she was. All he'd had to do was come out here and summon her forth with the dagger that now reflected her own name.
"It's been a long time, Rumplestiltskin."
"Not long enough," he growled. She stood there, still as ever in her long robes. He was pacing and pacing back and forth when he usually much preferred to be still himself. But he couldn't help it. He would much rather do this in his tower, with his wheel before him so he could spin. Instead, he was alone in the dark woods at night talking to a woman he'd grown to despise for no reason in particular other than the fact that she was holding this over his head. She knew something, or one of the others did, but it wasn't in the Chronicles! Why wasn't it in the Chronicles?!
"Our meeting is of your own choice," she snapped knowingly. "If you don't want me here-"
"You've something to tell me," he interrupted. "You have something you want to share you just won't do it…if this is how I have to have a conversation with you these days then so be it."
"Such fire," she smirked. "It would seem you've come a long way from the scared little spinner we once encountered. You've been the Dark One the longest now…congratulations."
"I don't want your appreciation," he snapped, pacing again. "I want your information. I want to know what you know."
"Still so disrespectful. Still without a care for who you speak to."
He stopped walking. Maybe that was it, maybe that was a reason that she bothered him. Even when he had just become the Dark One, her spirit had always been so haughty. The other voices had always bowed down to her like she would kill them if she could, but now that he held the title of the Dark One longer than anyone and that included her, he'd learned a few things. If anything…she was second to him.
"You are nothing…" he stated, looking her dead in the eye. "You are but a fragment, a memory of a curse left behind. You are knowledge and nothing more. It is you who are subordinate to me."
Her gaze narrowed, though her face never flinched or barely moved at all he could feel the anger at him gathering in the pit of his stomach, but he wouldn't be moved. He didn't care if the others never spoke to her in such a way. He wasn't afraid of her like he once had been. She couldn't hurt him even if she wanted to. And even if she could, as the carrier of her curse, it was in her best interest not to.
"Have care the way you speak, Rumplestiltskin. Mind your thoughts."
"I'm not afraid of you as the others are. Mind your own thoughts. The pain in my chest, you know something about it, but nothing is written in the Chronicles. If this is how I have to speak to you about what you know, then so be it. Tell me…"
"The pain you feel is because of your age," she answered immediately and without emotion. Because she was a memory. She belonged to him, not the other way around. He'd summoned her, and now she had no choice but to answer because he willed her to.
"Explain," he ordered.
"The pain you feel has only ever been felt by three other Dark Ones, myself included. The pain is in your heart, Rumplestiltskin…how foolish you never thought to check it."
Check his own heart…pull it from his chest, offer someone the opportunity to take it and control him like the dagger…a foolish notion that was. It was a notion that had gotten at least two of his former Dark Ones killed. He wasn't about to repeat their mistakes.
"What's wrong with my heart?"
"Let's see if you can answer that yourself…the hearts you pull from the chests of your victims aren't real hearts."
"No, they're magical representations of their soul."
"Red is granted to good hearts, and black goes to…"
His skin felt tight. It tingled. His aunts…in his youth they'd told him a story, one about a child who did wicked deed after wicked deed while his brother did good deed after good deed. The brother who did good deeds ended up with a heart of gold, the one who did bad deeds…
"His heart turned black and cracked in two. Funny what passes for a children's tale sometimes, isn't it?" Nimue questioned with something like casual amusement. "Amusing" wasn't exactly the word he'd use.
"I'm the Dark One. I'm immortal. I can't die as the child in the story."
"No one ever mentioned death, Rumplestiltskin. And you may be immune to a great many things, but a black heart isn't one of them."
"Stop talking in riddles."
"Ah, but it's what so many of us are good at, aren't we! Riddles are practically our first language."
It said something about how angry he was that he couldn't bring himself to roll his eyes at her. If he could, he would have raced forward and squeezed her neck beneath his palm to get the words out of her. As it was, all he had to do was glare at her like she'd once glared at him.
"Tell me what it means…"
The First Dark One smirked at him. "See if you can work it out for yourself. Dark as we Dark Ones are, it is those little flecks of red left within us that keep us weak. And those weaknesses are what keeps us human. Without those, without a single flicker of humanity left...why, then we'd truly become-"
"A monster," he realized. It wasn't the word that set his heart pounding, but Nimue's response, her build-up to it. That woman, if he could even call her that, was truly wicked. She hated the human parts of her and hated weakness, but if even she thought that the end result would be bad then...it would be bad. Very, very bad.
"It's nothing I'd worry about, for now, Rumplestiltskin," she shrugged. "The curse does take a great toll on the heart, but you are still many decades away from a completely black heart. Until that day comes, if it ever does for no Dark One has ever lived to see that day, you can manage your pain with magic."
"And when the day comes that I can't," he insisted, ignoring her jab about not living long enough to see it. All he cared about was living long enough to see Baelfire, he couldn't risk not making it long enough for that at least.
Nimue sighed. Finally, she took her first steps off of the platform she'd been on, the forge where Excalibur had been created and broken. "Toward the end of his human existence, Merlin worked on a potion. At first, I believe he worked on it with the hope it might make me back into the woman I'd once been for him, but in the end, he created it, I believe, to heal his own heart. He had hoped to take it the night before he faced me but couldn't bring himself to the coward. He always did believe that pain had its purpose. It made him a sap, and now…he lives on making sap, how perfectly ironic."
"The potion, how do you know about it? You want me to break into Merlin's tower to get his notes, but if this was after you left, then how do you know it exists."
"Because the Elixir of the Wounded Heart, as it came to be known, was stolen. It was removed from the tower by the Apprentice, stolen, and changed hands several times. The last Dark One who thought he might have need of it tracked it to Oz."
"Oz."
"He had no means to reach it…perhaps you do…as the oldest your reach extends so much farther than any of our own ever did."
Indeed. And one of the portals that Jefferson had left him would take someone to Oz and return it. He only needed to locate the bottle.
"And this Elixir…it'll help the problem."
"As I've said Rumplestiltskin 'the problem', if it ever comes to pass, is decades away. But if there is any hope for you, then that would be it."
"And there are no copies of the potion? No way to recreate it."
"If any exist they lie with the Apprentice or are kept safely tucked away in Merlin's Tower. If you went after the Apprentice, like I asked-"
"I have no time for chasing your demons," he insisted, setting his jaw. "I'll handle the Apprentice in my own time, in my own way, until then I will find a way to see my son again. As for my heart and locating the Elixir…now there's the problem with all the rest of you that never made it this far…you have no vision for the future."
So a few of you guessed that we were going to move right into Anna and her time in the Enchanted Forest but nope. First we have to go to this place. Partly because we have some time to spend here. Timeline wise, now that Anna's parents have been here we have to give them time to leave, have their ship sink, Elsa freak out, Anna meet Kristoff, up the mountain, Prince Hans is evil, blah, blah, blah...basically it's in this stretch of time that the Frozen movie takes place as well as the events in Once Upon a Time that lead up to Anna saying "I have to follow in mom and dad's footsteps". So...like I said, we have time. And in this time I had to insert a particular flashback storyline. You might have thought it came later and no one can really blame you because A&E got some things on the timeline wrong in order to place it, but more about that tomorrow. So yes, ladies and gents, I hope you are ready to meet our Robin Hood!
Thank you Jennifer Baratta, Alarda, and Grace5231973 for your reviews on the last chapter. Glad that you enjoyed what we never saw. I'm hoping that you like this chapter too. This is the first time we get to see Nimue in this fiction. I love their interaction. In some ways it's meant to be a throw back to the previous fiction when this happened all the time but in others it's really meant to be a "wow, look how the tables have turned. Nimue is still haughty and arrogant, but Rumple is quite obviously totally and completely in control of those voices in his head. Their interaction is fun to me. Peace and Happy Reading!
