Fly to a dream

Far across the sea

All the burdens gone

Open the chest once more

Dark chest of wonders

Seen through the eyes

Of the one with pure heart

Once so long ago

Nightwish - Dark Chest of Wonders

Oz (The Outer Zone). Nonestica

Centuries ago

In the beginning the primary protectors of Oz were the goddess Lurline Diosa and her consort Aramon. In his native land Russia, his name was Ivan Strogoff and he ventured into Oz by way of a portal. Lurline was the goddess of Paradise, the realm where the good people of Oz ascended when they made the transition from mortality to the afterlife. Her sister, Alemedia Demonia was the goddess of Ephesis, the realm where the wicked descended when they were cast out of Paradise. Although they could each lay claim to the souls of the mortals who have passed on into the afterlife, they could not walk the mortal realm themselves as their parents Hades and Persephone had forbidden it.

Each goddess had her loyal followers. Lurline's followers, the Sons and Daughters of Light were human and the most loyal built a temple in her honor in the northern realm of Oz called the Temple of Lurline but in later years it would be known as the Grey Gale in honor of Dorothy Gale, another who crossed over from the other side into the realm and defeated Alemedia's first vessel, Bastinda, known as the Wicked Witch of the West and her sister, Nessarose, the Wicked Witch of the East. Any being who sought refuge on the grounds of this sacred temple would be under the protection of Lurline herself until the barrier was crossed. Alemedia's followers were mostly animals, specifically demons that were part monkey and part bat. Known as mobats, they were cast out of the mortal realm and given sanctuary by the dark goddess who made them into her own personal army that she could summon out of Ephesis through markings on the skin of her current vessel. Alemedia was not satisfied merely being the ruler of Ephesis. She wanted to take control of the mortal realm as well but in order to do this, she needed a vessel and there were none more powerful than her sister's human descendants, the Ozopov and Strogoff. When one of those could not be taken, she chose her vessels from among her human followers, the Sons and Daughters of Shadowlands by sending out a dagger that once held would allow her to take possession of the host's soul and use it to wage war on Lurline and the human race itself. The dagger would bear the vessel's name as long as she held its soul in her gasp. If the vessel was killed by the dagger, her essence would transfer to the one now wielding it. The only way a vessel could exorcise the demoness was to turn the blade on themselves…and that was never done. The vessels enjoyed the power the blade and the goddess gave them far too much to even consider freedom.

Lilliana Strogoff felt like she'd been walking forever. She sat down underneath a large oak tree and cradled her newborn son in her arms. "I'll never let them find you," she vowed. "And I'll die before I'll ever tell them where you are," she added as she kissed the infant's small cheek. He looked so much like her and nothing like his father, much to her relief. A stranger in the Enchanted Forest, Lilliana thought she'd found a savior in Malcolm McDermott only the teenager and his charlatan of a father had taken all of the gold and jewels she'd sewn into her clothing to sell to support herself and sold them to gamble away or spend on their luxuries. Despondent, Lilliana went on the run again only now she carried a child in her belly and sensed her pursuers had somehow arrived in the Enchanted Forest. Their powers, as strong as her own, would be able to sense the presence of a new member of their bloodline, one whose powers would be stronger than theirs if he learned how to use them. She could not not let her son fall victim to the dreaded curse cast upon her family by their vengeful ancestress Demeter, all because Persephone chose to love Hades rather than the consort chosen for her.

Another tear cascaded down her cheek as she thought of her parents; Alexander and Glinda Strogoff, the famed Wizard of Oz and Glinda the enchantress of the Southern realm, a direct descendant of Lurline and Aramon themselves. They were dead, along with her cousins Queen Dorothy Gale and King Nicolai murdered at the hands of her twin sister Zorinda. Their child, a girl named Ozma went into hiding.

Lilliana reached around her neck and removed the ruby pendant she wore. It was the only piece of jewelry Malcolm and his father hadn't stolen because she'd disguised its appearance. To her pursuers Aramon's Talisman was a powerful weapon as it had the ability to render any magical user the wearer chose powerless temporarily and could also be used to remove their magic permanently if held to the victim's heart. She pressed the talisman against her son's chest, over his heart where his magic lay dormant.

"Rumplestiltskin," she murmured. The ruby glowed as it removed the child's magic. The only stone that could restore the child's magic or remove the talisman's spell was the emerald hidden in a secure location in her land. Her pursuers began their search for it once they realized she had the talisman in her possession for as long as she wore it, she had another defense if her own magic failed her. The task completed, she refastened the talisman around her neck and stood up. It was not much farther to the small cottage Malcolm called home. It grieved her that she had to place her son in his custody but she held onto the hope that once he saw his son, he would change his ways and be a good father to the boy. She named him Rumplestiltskin, meaning spinner of gold in Ozian for that was one of Aramon's many known abilities, spinning straw into gold.

A chill went down her spine as she sensed her pursuers were close by. She conjured a basket and placed the baby inside, covering him with a blanket then conjured a letter to Malcolm explaining that they boy was his son and signed it with the false name she'd given him when they met.

This is your son. His name is Rumplestiltskin. Please take care of him. You are all he has now.

"Goodbye my Rumple, my precious one. I am hoping one day we will meet again and you will forgive me but I fear it may be too late for me." She kissed the baby's small cheek and knocked on the door before vanished in a cloud of purple smoke.

Malcolm opened the door and glanced down to see a basket on the doorstep. He pulled back the blanket and saw an infant inside, a letter pinned to the blanket. He unfolded it and read the words, unable to believe what he was seeing was real. A child? How could he have a child? He was still one himself and an orphan at that. His father was killed in a tavern two months earlier by one of the villagers outraged over being cheated out of his hard earned money by his and Malcolm's card scheme. The sheriff was also on the lookout for young Malcolm and if he didn't pack up and leave soon he was going to end up dead just like his father.

He looked at the baby again. There was no sense in denying the child was his...it had his look about him even though it was probably no more than a few days old. He picked up the basket and walked down to the orphanage. The matron opened the door and glared at him.

"What brings you here, scum?" she demanded angrily knowing well the boy's reputation...and his late father's.

"I found this on my doorstep and I thought you should have it." he said as he attempted to hand the basket to her.

"You won't be pawning your bastard off on me, scum!" she yelled. "If you'd kept it in your britches you wouldn't have it, now would you? And don't even think about dropping it off anywhere else in this town because it'll end up right back on yours. Now go on with you!" She slammed the door shut.

Malcolm groaned with frustration and started walking back to the house, laughing bitterly. "Well, you old son of a bitch, I bet you're enjoying this. Got myself in the same damned trap you did. Raising a babe without a mother. And what the hell kind of name is Rumplestilt..oh never mind? Oh well, guess I'll have to call it Rumple. Damn that witch! If I ever find her, I'll beat her within an inch of her life for this!"

Out in the forest a group of riders on horseback came to a stop in a clearing. Two of them dismounted just as a cloud of magenta smoke appeared before them taking the form of a black haired woman with grey skin and golden eyes. They bowed to her, Zorinda Strogoff, vessel of Alemedia, known throughout the land as the Dark One.

"Have you located her?" she demanded.

"No, Dark One but she is here…and she has given birth…"

"I think it's time to have a little chat with our prisoner. Bring him!"

The two soldiers dragged a haggard looking man over to where their mistress stood and threw him to the ground at her feet. He knelt and raised his palm. There was an eye in the center of it. She reached into the seer's chest and pulled out his heart, squeezing tightly.

"Where is she!" she snarled.

"Right here Zorinda!" the girl called out as she appeared behind her. The Dark One sneered as she turned to face the spoiled brat she once called a twin. "Let him go."

"As you wish," the Dark One murmured and crushed the heart into dust. "Dispose of that," she commanded her soldiers, gesturing to the seer's corpse. "My sister and I have some matters to attend to."

They marched away dragging the corpse behind them. The two sorceresses faced each other. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this," the Dark One snarled. "Once I'm done with you I'll find that bastard you've spawned and crush him into dust too."

"You'll never find him," Lilliana taunted and pulled the ruby pendant out of the collar of her dress. "Zorinda," she chanted, waiting for the ruby's magic to work. Zorinda giggled and pulled a pendant out of her own gown. Lilliana gasped.

"You aren't the only one who knows its hiding place now, sister dearie. Mother thought she was so clever to hide that knowledge in her heart's memories but all I had to do was...dig it out." The Dark One waved her hand and the ruby pendant appeared in it. "Lilliana..." she purred.

Lilliana could only stand helpless as her magic was being stripped from her and her sister approached, thrusting her hand into her twin's chest to pull out her heart. As she attempted to access its memories a golden light shot out of it that threw the Dark One to the ground."

"W...What have you done?" the Dark One hissed.

Lilliana smiled with satisfaction. "You should've paid more attention to your lessons, Zori. Even the Dark One's powers or the talisman can't break a protection spell on a heart's memories," she said triumphantly.

"No matter. I'll find your brat without them," Zorinda crushed the heart into dust and waved her hand. Her sister's corpse vanished. "Zozo!" she called to one of the soldiers in her command.

"Yes, Dark One?"

"Go to the village and search every house for a newborn boy!" she said.

As she mounted her horse Zozo patted his saddlebag where the Dark One's prized dagger would soon be. She'd hidden it well but Zozo was a clever man and all he had to do was watch in the shadows to see where she hid it. As he suspected it, she concealed the weapon in a chest given to her by her beloved father. Once the dagger was in his possession he would have the ability to control the bitch but he didn't want to control her. He wanted her power for himself and never again would he be a slave to someone like her. He would keep up the pretense of looking for the bitch's nephew for a little while but if the brat no longer had any magic he wouldn't be of any use to them. As for the damned ruby and emerald she had around her neck, he wasn't able to use the damned things...only those of Aramon's bloodline could use them, meaning her, the now dead sister and the brat, even without magic.

She tossed an object onto the ground and opened a portal that would take her back to their land. Zozo snorted. The trip could have waited until they were finished in the village but he knew she didn't want her precious daddy's charms within reach of one of her kin to be used against her. It wasn't one of her kin she needed to be wary of. Sometimes the worst enemy was one who pretended to be a friend and often the danger was not seen until it was too late.

Zozo stood over the corpse of the woman once known as the Dark One, Zorinda Strogoff, holding the dagger that once bore her name in his hand. As the dead woman's blood seeped into the blade, her name was replaced with his. He allowed her to return her father's precious trinkets to their hiding place before he struck. Had he not, she would have used them on him. The Dark One powers would not serve him well in Oz for there were other mages far more powerful than he in this land, particularly those of the Ozopov Royal Family, rumored to have been descended from the fairy goddess Lurline herself as had the Strogoffs been and his only other threat was now deceased. Lilliana's brat, wherever he was in the Enchanted Forest, would not be a threat as long as he didn't find the ruby and emerald. Without magic he would have no means to get to Oz to reclaim them either. The Dark One tossed a token onto the ground in front of him and a funnel cloud appeared before him. He stepped inside and and closed his eyes, willing the storm to take him back to the Enchanted Forest. The other mages there were fairies and ones who learned the craft through studies of ancient texts. The normal humans would be easy prey for the darkest of all evils. If there was one thing he learned from the bitch Zorinda, it was how pleasing feeding on the needs of desperate souls could be and the Enchanted Forest was rich with them.

And rooted deep within his soul, the dark goddess Alemedia eagerly awaited the day when she could finally take possession of the last Strogoff. Unlike his Ozopov cousins, he was a pure blood, having magic in both bloodlines though his paternal magic's origins were from the same land as Aramon's. It was no matter. Through him she would bring Lurline and Aramon to their knees and all the realms would be hers, just as she'd killed her mother and reduced her father to a powerless, pitiful shell of his former self in Ephesis's worst places, The Realm of the Forgotten.

The Enchanted Forest

A small boy sat in front of the wall outside a tavern waiting patiently for his father to come out. Once in a while he would say hello to someone who passed by and most of them would look down, see who it was, snort in disgust and walk away, muttering "Scum" under their breaths. He'd been hearing that world for as long as he could remember but when he asked his father about it, he would just laugh.

"Ah, pay them no mind, Rumple."

"Why do they call us scum, Papa?"

"Sore losers," he replied.

It wasn't just the adults he would hear the word from, the other children in the village would say it too while they chased him away when he asked them if he could participate in their games and most of the time they called him a rat too.

"You're not good enough to play with us, rat scum! Why don'cha go down to the tavern with your papa and steal some more of our fathers' hard earned money!"

"I don't steal!" young Rumple protested. "And neither does my Papa...he wins the money in games...he said so."

The boys laughed. "You really are dumb, aren't you? Your papa's a thief and a cheat. The whole village knows it and he deserves to rot in the king's dungeon."

"Stop calling my papa names!"

"What're you gonna do rat scum? Hit us? There's three of us and one of you. We'd make mush outta ya! Go on, git!" one of them said and shoved the smaller boy. Rumple fell to the ground, striking his head on a rock. The three other boys stood around the unconscious child terrified.

"Is he dead?" another asked.

"No, but we better get outta here before he wakes up and tells on us!"

The three boys fled unaware that they were being watched. A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows and kneeled beside the unconscious boy, waving his hand over the child's bleeding head and healing his wound. The boy lacked magic but there was something about him that called to the dark sorcerer. Perhaps it was his unfortunate upbringing...the son of a thief and a cheat, the grandson of a cowardly thief and a cheat. Ah, yes, an unfortunate upbringing was the ideal breeding ground for a desperate soul in adulthood as he knew from his own upbringing and his desperation made him Zorinda's slave. Now he feared no one and that was just how he liked it.

"I wonder what it will be that finally brings you to me, boy," he murmured. "You may not have need of me now...but you will...they all will for this land is filled with desperate souls."

The Dark One chuckled and vanished.

"Rumple...Rumple...Rumple! Come on laddie, let's get going!" his father said as he shook the boy awake. Rumple rubbed his eyes and pressed his hand to his forehead, stunned when he didn't feel a bruise. Hadn't he struck his head on a rock earlier? He was about to ask his father just that when he realized Malcolm had that look on his face again, the one that the boy knew meant that there was no time for questions. The door to the tavern opened and three men came running out.

"There's that cheating bastard! Get him!" one of them yelled. "You better run you coward because when I get my hands on you I'll string you from the tallest tree in Sherwood Forest!"

As Malcolm ran, pulling his tired and disoriented son with him, Rumple spotted the three boys he'd been arguing with earlier pointing at them and laughing. "Run along rat scum!" they taunted.

When they finally reached the shack that was their home, Rumple could barely keep his eyes open. He was also hungry...his father had forgotten to get them something for supper again. Thinking he would eat something later, Rumple lay on his pallet and fell back to sleep unaware that while he was asleep his father left the shack and went back into town again, angry when the money he'd taken from the patrons of the tavern would be just enough to buy something to eat for himself and the boy.

I'd have some left over if I didn't have him around, he thought angrily. That bitch. Drops this damned kid off on me while she's probably living in a grand castle somewhere with whatever's left of those fine jewels she had.

He woke the boy up a little later to eat. He wasn't much of a cook and the food tasted terrible but Rumple ate every morsel and washed all the dirty dishes. Had he not, they would've sat because his father never wanted to clean anything.

They'd been moving from village to village for as long as he could remember and always for the same reason: his father never could get a decent job and when he played his 'Follow the Lady' game in the taverns, someone would always accuse him of being a cheat. One day Rumple decided to go in the tavern with his father and watch him play the game. He shuffled the three cards around the table and flipped the middle one over to reveal a joker.

"What?" his customer demanded angrily.

"Don't feel too bad," Malcolm taunted. "You're not the only one who's been spurned by the lady tonight. She's been quite shy all evening." As he held up his arm, the customer noticed a card tucked under it.

"You tricked me!"

"What you gonna do?"

The man's reply was to deliver a hard punch to Malcom's face. As he hauled Malcolm up and shoved him against the wall with a hand around his throat and his other first ready to deliver another punch Rumple ran over to them and placed his hand on the man's arm.

"Please don't hurt him. He's my father!" the boy pleaded.

"You'd be better off without him!" the man said and punched Malcolm hard in the stomach. He fell to the ground and the man kneeled down, snatching the purse full of coins from his belt, an entire evening's worth of winnings that he wanted to use to have himself a pint. He assured the boy he would find a way to get back the money and sped off, leaving Rumple alone in the tavern.

The next day they traveled to a small cottage where the spinsters Moira and Tatiana lived. Rumple didn't want to stay with them, he wanted to be with his father. Malcolm assured him he would only stay with them until he got a real job only Moira and Tatiana knew this to be a lie. The man's reputation was well known even to recluses as they were and the poor child was better off without him. The only comfort the man offered his son was a straw doll Rumple named Peter Pan. The doll gave the child some comfort but the spinsters felt he needed more things to occupy his time. They started teaching him how to spin wool and were shocked when the boy proved to be a skilled spinner. It was his hope that he would be able to make money so that he and his father could be together.

The two women, difficult as it was, felt it was their duty to tell the boy the truth about his scoundrel of a father. Although he was a skilled wool spinner even at such a young age, his father's tarnished reputation would make earning a good living difficult for the boy once he became an adult. The only solution they had was a magic bean they found one day yet had no use for. They suggested the child use it to go to another land without his father yet Rumple loved his father and the prospect of going to a new land alone terrified him. He left the cottage and went to the pub, confident his father wasn't there only to be disappointed to discover that he was. Heartbroken, the boy fled the pub. Malcolm quickly caught up with him.

For a while it seemed that his father did want to make the fresh start he promised him in the place he called Neverland...until he became obsessed with wanting to fly. Rumple, terrified of heights, preferred keeping his feet on the ground and he was growing tired of his father acting more like a child there and wanted to leave. Then the monster came out of nowhere and seized him.

"A child can't have a child, Rumple," his father said as the shadow held him in the air. Rumple screamed in terror, trying to reach for his father. The shadow flew higher and the doll Rumple held in his hand fell to the ground, gesturing to his father who was no longer a man anymore but the child he wanted to be. Then the two of them flew out t of Neverland. The shadow said nothing as it dropped the child at the doorstep of the spinsters' home and disappeared. He reached for the knocker with a trembling hand and tapped it against the door. As soon as the women saw the weeping boy on their doorstop, they helped him inside and put him to bed promising him he would always have a home with them. As he lay there, he realized his benefactors had been right after all...he was better off without his father and he never wanted to hear the name Pater Pan again. His doll was gone forever...just like his father.

Although the pain of being abandoned by his father never truly went away, Rumple grew to love the two spinsters and to him, they were his family. The wool the three of them spun together sold well in the marketplace and Moira and Tatiana had their hopes that one day he would become the most sought after wool spinner in the village now that his foolish father was out of his life. Unfortunately, his father's reputation shadowed the boy and he was forced to prove he was nothing like his father constantly as he grew into adulthood.

The only bright spot he had was the day a beautiful woman approached his table at the marketplace, interested in buying some wool from him. For Rumple it was love at first sight. He was so captivated by her that he could barely get his name out when she asked for it.

"It's...ahh...Rumple...Rumplestiltskin," he stammered.

"Rumpleshtiltskin?" she mispronounced.

He chuckled. "No, no...it's Rumplestiltskin...but ahh...you can call me Rumple."

"That name's quite a mouthfull. Who gave it to you? Your father?"

"No...my mother."

"Oh. Well...I'll take some of this wool," she said and picked her selection, their hands brushing against each other as he was putting it in the basket she carried with her. He lowered his head so that she couldn't see the blush in his cheeks. She handed him the coins for her purchase.

"Thank you...ummm..."

"Milah," she answered.

Milah, he thought. Her name sounded as beautiful as she was.

"Thank you, Milah."

He watched her walk away, wondering if he would ever see her again. When he walked home that day he felt as if he were floating on air and was humming a tune. Moira was at her wheel spinning more wool for them to sell the following day as well as some blankets they weaved while Tatiana cooked their dinner.

"Well, it sounds like someone had a good day," she remarked. "Why Rumple...your cheeks are as red as roses! Are you ill, lad?"

"No...I..uh...met someone at the market."

"Oh?" Moira smiled. "And by the looks of you I'd say it was a lass."

"It was," he admitted.

The two women glanced at each other, grinning. Moira sat down at the table and motioned for him to join her. "It's good to see that you're finally starting to take an interest in the ladies, Rumple. You're not a boy anymore and soon you should be thinking about settling down and having a family of your own."

"You are my family," he said softly.

"Yes but we're not going to live forever, lad." She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. "Don't you want to get married and have your own children?"

"I don't want to be a bad father...like him," he said bitterly.

"You are nothing like your father!" Tatiana said firmly. "Because you have the one thing he doesn't...a good heart."

"Not according to everyone in the village," he said sadly. "Oh, they are polite to me in the marketplace and buy the wool I sell yet I can see the scorn in their faces...and I'm never invited to any of the festivals or dances. And I'll probably never see her again."

He was surprised at the end of the week when Milah approached his table just as he'd finished packing up for day, so nervous that he dropped his purse of coins. They both bent over to pick it up, their heads knocking together, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

"Oh! I'm so sorry...are you hurt?" he asked worriedly as he helped her to her feet.

"No, I'm all right," she insisted and handed him his purse. "I was hoping to catch you before you left for the day...I'm a bit late, aren't I?"

"Ummm...no, not at all. What would you like?" he asked, indicating the items he had for sale.

"I don't need anything today."

His face fell. "Right."

"I...I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to spring festival with me tonight."

He was stunned. The most beautiful girl in the village wanted him to go to the spring festival? Him? He was the son of a coward and a cheat, an unknown mother, raised by spinsters and she could take her pick of men in the village far more handsome. Why was she asking him when she probably had so many far more tempting offers?

"You look shocked Rumple."

"Well I...ahhh." He cursed himself for his shyness. "I...I never go to the festivals and no one has ever invited me."

"Then it's time you did go," she said firmly. "I'll meet you over at the spinsters house in the evening...say around five?"

"Okay."

She smiled. "Great. I'll see you then."

Moira watched from the doorway of Rumple's bedroom with a grin as the nervous young man raced around his room trying to find something suitable to wear to the festival and constantly glanced at his reflection in the cracked and faded mirror. She knew if she didn't calm him down he would not be ready by the time Milah arrived and would miss the perfect opportunity to be out among people and perhaps a woman he could finally have the family he needed. She went into her bedroom and retrieved the new outfit she and Tatiana made for him weeks earlier. He was still trying to get his boots on when he heard Milah knocking on the door. Once again he was at a loss for words when he opened the door and saw her standing there, a vision in a white dress. His hands trembled as he handed her the bouquet of flowers he bought at another market on the way home that afternoon.

All eyes were on them as they walked into the tavern that was hosting the spring festival. He knew what they were thinking: what was a beauty like Milah doing with him, the son of a coward and a cheat? Part of him wanted to turn and run while the other couldn't bear to leave Milah's sight. She started introducing him to everyone she knew, praising his talent as a spinner and a weaver while he remained humble. Still the word spread throughout the tavern that if you were looking for the finest wool in the village, Rumplestiltskin was the one to go to and soon he found that people were willing to talk to him more.

"After a while, people aren't even going to remember your father," Milah assured him. "Come on, let's dance!"

"I don't know how," he confessed sadly.

"No better time to learn then," she said as she pulled him out to the center of the room where the others danced gaily. He stepped on her toes several times yet instead of being angry, she simply laughed it off and playfully stepped on his. "There...now we're even."

Now for the first time he found himself thinking that he could settle down and have a family...be a better man and father than his father was and there was no other bride he wanted more than the woman he was holding at that moment. Being at the spring festival was just the start. From that night on, what time he didn't spend in the marketplace or at home was devoted to his courtship of her. Every morning she would open her front door to find a bouquet of freshly picked flowers on her doorstep and a note asking her to meet him somewhere. They would have picnics in the forest and he would present her with gifts of shawls and blankets he weaved himself. Her parents didn't approve of him because of his father's reputation despite Milah's insistence that he was nothing like the infamous Malcolm. Her parents were forced to change their minds when Milah started inviting him into their house. Although he was still a bit shy, it was obvious to both of them that he truly cared for their daughter. They'd been courting for over a year when he finally worked up the courage to propose marriage and ask for her parents' blessing.

Their wedding was a small, simple affair as were many in their village. He didn't mind. The only thing that mattered to him was that he could finally be with the woman he loved and one day their lives would be complete when she brought their first child into the world.

Every village in the Enchanted Forest was gripped with fear as the ogres marched across the land, destroying lands, destroying lives as children lost fathers, wives lost husbands, and mothers lost sons. Every able bodied man was being called to the front lines to fight, so many of them not returning at all and very few of them returning barely clinging to life. In the small village where the spinner and weaver Rumplestiltskin lived with his wife Milah, every day was much like the one before it. They spent most of the morning in the marketplace selling the wool they spun and he was teaching her to weave so that she could make her own items to sell and double their income. They even talked about starting a family, holding off until they felt they were bringing in enough income to support a child.

One day Rumple was minding their table in the marketplace alone when a soldier approached him.

"Are you Rumplestiltskin?" he inquired.

"Yes. Yes I am." he answered.

The soldier handed him a scroll. The spinner unrolled it and read the contents, smiling.

"You will report for training in the morning," the soldier informed him.

"I must tell my wife..."

"Then do so."

Rumple raced home with the scroll in his hand. This was the chance he'd been waiting for his whole life. If he fought bravely in the Ogre Wars he would no longer be branded the son of a coward and a thief and he would at last be given the opportunities for success that eluded him all his life. When he opened the front foor he found his wife at work weaving.

"MIlah," he greeted warmly.

"I'm almost finished," she said proudly as she held up the shaw she was working on.

He smiled. "Well, you learn quickly."

"I had a good teacher," she said and kissed him. "What is it? What brings you home so early?"

"Milah, my weaving days are behind us. I've been called to the front." He handed her the scroll. She frowned as she read it.

"The Ogre Wars..."

"I report for training in the morning."

"No, Rumple! I've heard the stories. The front is a brutal place." she said fearfully.

"Dear, I know, I know. And I can't say I won't be frightened. But this is the chance I've been waiting for. All my life. You know, I've lived under the shadow of my father's actions for far too long now," he reminded her.

"Just because your father was a coward that doesn't mean that you are."

"Oh, I know that. As do you. But to the world? Fighting in this war finally gives me the chance to prove that to everyone else," he said.

Milah beamed with pride. She knew this couldn't be easy for him but she was glad he was willing to take the chance. "Go. Be brave. Fight honorably," she told him offering him what little encouragement she could.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I love you too," she murmured as they kissed. "And when you return, we can live the life we've always dreamed of. We can have a family."

He was grinning from ear to ear as he made his way to the training camp. A family. There was nothing more he wanted than to have a child of his own. He didn't care if it was a son, a daughter or both. He would love his children and they would love him. They wouldn't have much in the way of material possessions unless his luck changed but what did it matter when you lived in a home full of love?

Learning how to use a sword and a spear was far more difficult than spinning and weaving and he was not having much success at it. No matter how hard he tried, he never could get his spears to reach their targets and his sword strokes were too weak. He could feel the commanding officer's eyes on him and imagined the thoughts going through his head. Still he kept trying. They decided to teach him how to shoot arrows and unfortunately he almost shot one of the other trainees.

"Don't worry about it. I'm a poor shot myself," one of them assured him. "Just keep trying and you'll get better at it."

The next lesson he had was at the catapult. He could barely lift the rocks to throw onto it so they decided to teach him how to operate it. He felt like dancing a jig when he managed to fire it without any difficulty.

"Looks like we've finally found something you are good at here, spinner."

"I'd like to keep trying the sword and spear lessons too sir," Rumple said softly.

"Maybe in the morning."

He was walking back to his tent when another of the commanding offers stopped him.

"I'm needed at the front. You guard this crate with your life." he instructed as he gestured toward a crate that was covered.

"What's under there?" Rumple inquired curiously.

"A prisoner that can help us turn the tide against the ogres. Careful. It's a tricky beast."

"Yes, sir."

Rumple walked toward the crate, curious to see what was inside until he remembered the officer's warning that it contained a tricky beast. He turned his back to it, following his instructions to simply guard it and nothing more.

"Rumplestiltskin..." he heard a female voice call out. He heard movement inside the crate and approached it slowly, fearing what he would find in there. What would the beast do to him? Would it seize him with his massive claws and tear him to pieces. He pulled back the canvas and gasped in shock when he saw a young girl inside...a girl who had no eyes!

"You're a child..." he murmured.

The child tilted her head and gestured toward the bucket at his feet. "Please. I haven't had a sip in days."

He was stunned. How could the child know there was a bucket of water there when she had no eyes? And how did she know his name?

"How do you know my name?" he asked.

"I'm a Seer. I see all," the child explained.

"No, no, no, that's not possible. You must have overheard someone speak."

She held up her hand with a bright blue eye in the center. "Rumplestiltskin, the son of a coward, raised by spinsters, scared of ending up just like his father. Did I overhear that? I told you. I see all, even what is yet to pass."

"You mean the future? You can see the future?" Rumple inquired curiously.

"Indeed I can, including yours," she replied.

" No, no, no. I won't indulge this... dark magic."

He'd had enough experience with magic to last a lifetime, magic that came in the form of the bean he'd used to take himself and his father to Neverland thinking that they could start over, only he'd been abandoned and his father was now a child again. No good would ever come from magic.

"Even if what I see concerns your wife? Milah?"

He flinched. Oh, this girl was a tricky one all right, knowing exactly what to say. He could hear a warning voice in his head telling him to just put the canvas back over the crate and walk away while another, stronger voice spoke.

Listen to her.

"Why? Has something happened to her?" he demanded.

The seer once again asked for water. He handed her a cup and asked her to explain herself, stunned when she informed him Milah was with child. He certainly knew it was possible but how could he believe this creature. Surely she was only telling him what he wanted to hear in exchange for comfort or possibly to escape her confinement. What she said next sent a bitter chill through his bones.

"Your wife will bear you a son, but your actions on the battlefield will leave him fatherless."

"I'm gonna die? No, no, no. You...you must tell me how I can stop that happening."

"You can't."

"Then I'm done helping you!" he said angrily.

"For now. Someday you'll help me again."

That's what you think, he thought bitterly.

"I'll bet Milah isn't even pregnant. You just said that so I would give you water, and now you're trying to trick me into deserting!" And that was one thing he didn't want to do. His father had been a deserter, not of the army but of his familial responsibilities...just like his mother and he would not repeat their mistakes. No, he would stay and fight with honor as Milah wanted him to. He would make himself a husband to be proud of. No longer would his father's shadow haunt him.

"You shall see. Tomorrow. When you see the army ride cows into battle, you will know I speak the truth," she insisted.

"Cows? And who's going to man the catapults? Milk maids? I have had enough with your fiendish lies."

"There is no escaping it. You will have a son, and your actions will leave him fatherless."

Rumple yanked the canvas down over the crate. "Crazy witch! Does she honestly expect me to believe we'd actually ride cows into battle when we have horses aplenty in this land?" he muttered and sat down. An hour later another soldier was sent to relieve him so that he could have something to eat. He tried to put the seer's words out of his mind.

Your actions will leave him fatherless...

The battle was over for the day and the survivors returned with the wounded. One man was missing an arm and he was added to the list of the few who would be returned home and Rumple was learning quickly that being disabled or dead were the only two ways anyone made it home. Their commanding officer returned.

"Fortune favors us! Fresh supplies have arrived from the Duke. Today, we will not be marching into battle. We'll be riding."

When you see the army ride cows into battle, you will know I speak the truth.

"Riding? Riding what?" Rumple asked worriedly.

"What kind of question is that? A horse, of course. Now grab yourself a cow and get ready."

Oh no! No, no, no...she was right...I am going to die...and my son will be fatherless...just as I was!

"I'm sorry, sir. What did you say?"

"A cow. The saddles we just got in—made from the finest leather. We call'em "cows." Grab yours, so at least the ride into doom will be a soft one on your backside."

Rumple paled.

"Are you all right?" one of the other soldiers asked.

"Yeah. Yes. You...You go. I'll catch up." he said quickly and the other man left. "Oh, no. So it's all true. I'm going to have a son. And I'm gonna die? Answer me!" he demanded when he approached the canvas and pulled back the cover. To his dismay it was empty. He shook it frantically then backed away with exhaustion. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a hammer lying out.

I have to...for my son. Milah, forgive me...but I cannot leave my boy without a father...not like he left me.

He raised the hammer and swung in, screaming in agony as his ankle breaks. The noise brings a group of soldiers running to his side.

"Rum! Hell's fury, what happened?" one of them asked.

"I...I..."

"I saw the whole damned thing!" another growled. "I shoulda known. Your father was no good coward and he raised one!" He shoved Rumple. The injured spinner fell to the ground.

"Is this true? Did you deliberately injure yourself?" the commanding officer interrogated.

"Ummm..."

"Go on...lie through your teeth, coward!"

"Yes I did!" Rumple moaned.

"I won't have a coward in my regiment." the commander snapped as he walked away.

"They should kill you and put your head on a pike!" another yelled.

"Oh no...once word gets out what he's done, that'll be a far worse punishment."

"Hope it was worth it, Hobblefoot! Go on, get out of here!"

Rumple began the long journey back home, fighting back tears as he used the broken end of a spear for support. Yes, he would be branded a coward but if the seer's words were true, he would have a son waiting for him at home, a son who would have a father. For that reason alone, he had no regrets. He arrived home a week later, overjoyed when he opened the door to his home and found his wife cradling a baby in her arms.

"What's his name?" he asked.

"Baelfire."

"A strong name!" he said proudly and sank to the floor in pain.

She glared at him. "Something he'll need if he's to live with the shame of being your son," she said bitterly, berating him for injuring himself. She'd heard the news from the wife of one of the other soldiers sent home, one who received his own injuries in battle, accusing him of being just like his own father.

"I am nothing like my father. He tried to abandon me. I will never, ever do that to my son. That's why I did this...for him. All for the boy. To save him from the same fate I suffered, growing up without a father!" he defended. She would hear nothing of it. She thrust the baby into his arms and stormed out of the cottage. Rumple cradled his son to his chest, weeping softly. "Oh. Oh, it's all right, Bae. It's all right. Your Papa's here. And I promise... I will never... ever leave you."