Hi guys! It's been a minute, I know. Thank you for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!

In a minute the owl was sitting beside him again on the branch, thoughtfully breaking up a dead sparrow.

'May I do that?' asked Arthur, inclined to be bloodthirsty. -T.H. White, The Sword in the Stone

Storybrooke, A Few Weeks Ago

"You're...a queen?"

"Yep," Maeve fiddled with the circlet, slipping it around her brow. In a puff of familiar smoke, she changed. Wrinkled but not yet wizened, and definitely in spitting distance of 'crone'. Belle recognized her from the town meetings and the 'adapting to the Land Without Magic' seminars hosted at the library. "I apologize for not telling you earlier, but I wanted to make sure this was…well…"

Belle nodded. "Wait. I thought you said you could only turn into animals?"

Maeve scratched the back of her head. "Well, from a certain point of view, what is man but—"

"Maeve."

A sigh. "I wasn't lying to you. I transform myself into different animals–but I'm only ever me."

"That doesn't make sense."

Maeve scratched behind her ear. A nervous tic, Belle had noticed. "Let's try a demonstration." With a puff of purple smoke, Belle found herself looking down at a small, purple kitten. It had black stripes and pretty blue eyes. Another burst of smoke, and the kitten was now a full grown cat. Same black stripes. Same blue eyes. Another puff, and Belle was looking at a dark-haired girl that couldn't be out of elementary school. Blue eyes. Purple smoke, and there was Maeve as Belle usually knew her. "All of those were me."

"Oh, that makes a bit more sense." The librarian tilted her head. "Why purple?"

A shrug. "It's something to do with how shapeshifting magic works. If you're doing it to yourself, you always come out a weird color. Merlin was always blue."

Belle liked to think she had a decent understanding of magic. As much as there was a system in place—'magic always comes with a price' being the sinister cousin to Newton's laws of motion—the system had quirks. "So is this your true form? What you really look like?"

"That's…more complicated."

"Define 'complicated'." She remembered the glistening scales of Rumple's skin in the Enchanted Forest. No wondering Killian called him crocodile.

"Well, with prolonged use, even handled properly, magic changes those who use it. Zelena's green skin, for example. The fact that my magic is based around changing my form amplifies that affect a hundredfold."

The brunette nodded. "So…when you think of yourself as Maeve as human, this is the form you're most comfortable with? How you'd like others to see you."

"Essentially."

Belle stepped forward and gently took the witch's hand. "I won't lie, I'm curious about what you really look like. I hope one day you'll feel comfortable showing it to me."

Maeve's smile was tight. "Belle...there's a lot about me you don't know. Much of it I wish you'll never have to see. This is one of those things. But…maybe. Someday."

Camelot, Now

Bloodied, burned and barely able to even stand, Madam Mim was thrown back into her cell.

She probably shouldn't have goaded him. At least two of her molars were broken, and one of her eyeteeth had been ripped out with pliers.

"You know, golden boy, keep this up and you're in real danger of becoming Merlin's greatest disappointment. Quite the accomplishment, speaking as the reigning champ."

Eh. It was worth it.

The floor rocked as if she were in a cradle and she could barely see through the swelling in her right eye. But Maeve could still hear well enough.

The red haired princess of Dun Brough was telling a story. The two women were no longer the only prisoners here. There was another. Their scent was vaguely familiar, but she lacked the presence of mind to place him.

She listened as the woman explained the plight of her homeland, the death of her father, and the coup d'etat of the clans.

"…They'd really do that? Kill your brothers?" The knight who smelled vaguely of shore and sand asked, voice aghast.

"They're next in line for the throne," Maeve slurred from her place on the floor. "How old?"

"They're wee lads, only three and ten."

"Not wee enough," Maeve grunted. "Two options. One—crown whichever one they find most pliable, keep the other two as leverage. Name themselves protectors. Regents. Whatever. Second—well. Child kings rarely turn out well for anyone."

"They'll kill them. They've already exiled my mother."

Maeve didn't care. She didn't care, she didn't care,she didn't—shit.

"Fuck that." Maeve's spent enough time putting various substances in her body to have a good sense of how long she's gonna stay lucid. It's not long. "I'll get us out of here, love."

"You have a plan on tha'?"

If she had enough of her head together, Maeve probably would. At the moment though…well, never let it be said Madam Mim was afraid of a bad decision. She managed to roll herself onto her back, swallow, and whispered a name.

"Emma Swan."

Nothing.

"Dark One?"

Nada.

"C'mon princess I'm asking nicely."

With a puff of gray smoke, the Savior finally deigned to answer. The white dress and combed hair was a far cry from the sweaty bog witch she'd seen in the woods however many days ago. "Nice dress."

"Nice shackles."

"Anti-magic." Mim slurred, sticking her chained leg up in the air. "Merlin's golden boy. Don't trust him."

The sheriff's gaze snapped to the corner of the cell. Mim didn't know what she was looking at but couldn't find it in her to care.

"You'd be much more coherent without the head trauma," the Savior mumbled, her hand twitching.

"Long story. Want to make a deal…with you,"

The scrunched up expression was hard to interpret. "Throw in a favor to be named later, and I'll make sure you're lucid enough to explain it.

"Nothing with kids."

"Okay. Sure." Emma waved a hand, and Maeve felt the sticky, acrid smelling magic knit together the wounds on her head. Just her head though. Her teeth were still broken or missing, and the brand on her arm was still visible and still hurt like anything.

"Okay," the witch sat up straighter. "Simple trade. You unlock our doors," she gestured out to the other cells, "and I give you information I think you'll find not only important but very helpful under current circumstances. About Arthur and Excalibur."

The Dark One looked down her nose, raising a single eyebrow.

"Fine, I'm also the Queen Witch of Annuvin, and as such have resources you may find useful."

"You?"

"Yep."

"You're a Queen?"

"Despite my best efforts, yes."

"Someone put you in charge of a country."

"Specifically the bastard you're trying to get out of the bloody tree, but can we please get back to the point?"

The Savior's eyes darkened. "Why didn't you tell us any of this before?"

The Mad Madam wanted to snap back with: 'please like any of you lot would care about me if it wasn't for my father'. What came out instead was: "Like I just said, it's not something I chose nor do I particularly like the position. Now. Do we have a deal?"

Her surprise over, or at least pushed aside, the steely expression returned. "Fine, in exchange for the information you have to offer, I give a promise of freedom to you and the others."

Maeve could feel the magic of a Dark One's Deal slip around them. Rumplestiltskin's magic had been like the rotting of a dead carcass. Emma's was more like a bowl of fruit left too long on the sun. For once in her long life, it was a relief.

Maeve tells her everything she knows. About Merlin, about the Dark One's original spell that trapped him in the tree, and about the broken blade. Especially on Arthur's less than fuzzy feelings about the Sorcerer. "...After I tried to apologize to Arthur for some past behavior—even offered to help with Merlin—he responded by trying to use the Sands of Avalon on me."

"Alright, and what does that do?"

"It acts as a kind of magical duct tape to make broken things seem fixed—handy when you want to control someone, like magnificent madams such as myself. I know he's used it on Camelot…and his wife."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Then why didn't it affect you?"

A wicked smile. "Well, when you're as mad as I am, it's so much water off a duck's back."

"You're lying."

An exaggerated sigh. "You're no fun." Mim tapped her chest. "I warded myself from mind and heart-tampering magic eons ago. I know you're basically a greenhorn at this, but I recommend taking a good, long look at our fair lady so you get a feel for it."

The Dark One looked away again. "The wand that allows you all to cross realms. Do you still have it?"

"No, I left it in the care of someone I trust. Now," Mim stuck her leg up in the air. "Are you going to help us, or what?"

"I promise you'll have your freedom soon." The sheriff turned towards the door. "I have more important things to deal with right now."

A puff of smoke, and all were left in surprised silence.

"Well, that was rude." Lancelot observed.

Softly, very softly, a crow could be heard in the distance.

"Oberon?" Belle set down her book.

Killian looked up from his. "What?"

"Maeve's familiar." The gore-crew tugged on her sleeve. "What is it?" A caw. "I'm sorry, I can't understand you." An offered leg. They both see the note wrapped around it. "Oh, right."

The first thing he noticed was how it wasn't paper, but curled birch bark. The next thing he noticed was how she didn't read them once. Twice. Three times over her eyes scanned the words. It was impossible to miss how her brow furrowed.

"Belle?"

Or how the color drained from her face.

"What does it say?"

Belle pressed the note into his hand, and haphazardly started closing and shoving books into her rucksack.

Belle. I've gone to try and make amends with Arthur. If you're reading this, it didn't end well. I probably deserved it. I have treasured our time together – Maeve.

Again the gore-crow cawed, and Killian can see the dark ichor staining its feathers.

"-he wants to use it to kill Merlin. I don't need to tell you how bad that would be for all of us."

"How do you know this?"

Emma sighed. Out of resignation or frustration, Regina couldn't tell. "It was Mim. She's in Arthur's dungeon."

"What?"

"She was the one who told me about the Sands of Avalon and how he tried to use the same thing on her. When I saw how they were acting, it wasn't hard to put together."

Regina blinked. "And then you just left her there?"

"Like I said, there's bigger things to worry about right now." Regina raised an eyebrow. This was a far cry from the Emma Swan who had risked an entire timeline to save a woman she didn't even know. "We don't have a lot of time, Arthur's expecting them."

"He's the king, you want to take on all of Camelot?"

"I wanna free Merlin first, then I can help my parents and stop Arthur. Besides, Mim is the Queen Witch of Annuvin, she can offer us sanctuary–and an army."

"...wow, so many things about her suddenly make sense."

"What are you looking for?" Killian asked, locking the door behind them. Belle, with the gore-crow perched on her shoulder, was hunched over, searching the trunk of her belongings. They'd managed to make it back to the guest quarters with minimal looks, but Killian knew they'd have to be more careful.

"Maeve said that I would have a way to find her if I needed to." From her trunk, she pulled out a dark jacket and a rucksack. He recognized both as the Madam's–Maeve's, he corrects.

"Did she ever tell you what actually happened between them?" Belle lifts a glass vial to the light, frowns, and places it down.

"Only that it was bad." She repeats the process several times until she finds what she's looking for. A vial of locator potion.

Killian managed to grab the enchanted garment before the guards caught sight of them. Pressed up against the wall, the librarian shot him a grateful look before peeking around the corner.

"That's the entrance to the dungeon."

"Aye." And the damn jacket was surprisingly tough to hold onto. With a soft rip, he ran his hook through one of the seams, figuring it could be repaired later.

"So she's here," Belle pieced together. "And Arthur didn't even tell us."

"Which, given what we know of the king's opinions about her…." The librarian and the pirate share a look.

We probably shouldn't jump to conclusions. Hung in the air between them. But we both know this can't be good.

"Violet…can you keep a secret?"

Eyes wide with horror, Emma rips the heart from the girl's chest.

It was necessary, she tells herself. It had to be done, they had to free Merlin.

Of course dearie, the Darkness whispers back.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Belle adjusted the strap of the rucksack against her shoulder. Killian had offered to carry it, but she'd refused. Standing beside them, Robin carried his sleeping son, the lad's head tucked against his shoulder. They were waiting for the right moment.

Widow Lucas had already left with half of the dwarves through the south gate; Astrid and baby Neal were with the other half. Killian, Robin, Roland and herself would be the last to go. The plan was to leave separately, during the changing of the guards. Do do it as quickly and as quietly as possible so by the time Merlin was freed, Arthur wouldn't have even noticed they were gone.

Smooth sailing so far. That made him nervous.

Get your people out of here. The witch had instructed, down in the dungeons. Clearly suffering from the good king's hospitality, her legs chained to the floor, she had only told them to run. Go to the woods. Call for the Green Knight. She has my father's wand, and can offer you sanctuary as you plan your next moves and…worse comes to worse… She'd slipped a ring off of her middle finger, and managed to pass it through the bars to Belle. Take this to the Dark Gate. Tell them what happened.

What Killian knew about the Republic of Annuvin would barely fill a thimble (small kingdom, no real navy to speak of, only a few merchant and fishing vessels that stuck close to shore), but he knew they didn't like outsiders. And that ring, once he'd gotten a closer look at it, looked an awful lot like a small crown.

Something to ponder later, as they needed to move. Now.

"We need to leave." Killian placed a hand on Belle's shoulder "Now."

"No–I'm not leaving here without you." Clinging to the bars, her expression that near suicidal mix of righteousness and determination.

Killian braced himself. He didn't want to drag Belle away from here, but he'd do it if it'd save her life.

Maeve stilled then. A horrible longing and fear in her eyes. She ducks her head, and the grim smile returns. "He wants Merlin dead, so he's going to keep me alive until that happens."

It isn't until they're past the last set of guards that Killian realizes Belle had left the rose jar behind.

Maeve could practically smell the rage roiling off of golden boy, next she saw him.

"Merlin is free." He snarled.

"Oh dear, oh dear, that is a tragedy," She licked her lips. They were dry and cracked, and it had been a long time since anyone gave her any water. "Did he give the 'I'm not mad just disappointed' speech?" Arthur turned away.

"Oh he did, didn't he?" Mim chuckled. A mad cackle as blood splattered against the wall.

The next time Mim comes to, what she sees is impossible.

"Hello, beautiful…and hello shrubbery," Maeve smiled, and with a wave of his hand the shackles, door, and the shackles crumbled into dust. If the Dark One's magic was rot, the Sorcerer's was the smell of buds pushing through fresh soil, of the first thaw, and a new spring The smell of hope, of possibility.

The Chaos in her blood sang with delight. Order had chained it, and Order was its anathema. The world spun as she tried to rise to her feet. A kind hand caught her arm. "Easy now…"

Another wave, and the injuries and burn marks faded from Mim's flesh. Two broken teeth were spat out in a spray of blood and saliva onto the dungeon floor. Most species of sharks could regrow their teeth throughout their lifetimes. Nearing her third century, it was one of most useful skills Maeve had picked up.

"Oberon?"

"He's fine. How's your head?"

"I don't know, someone ask me something."

Belle smiled, despite the circumstances. "Name every alkali metal."

"Lithium, sodium, potassium, rubidium, caesium and francium."

"Sounds right." Killian added; his cutlass at the ready.

"Get down!" Belle tackled the witch to the ground, the arrow flying over their heads. They landed in a heap, Belle's fall broken by Maeve and Maeve's fall broken by the nice stone floor.

A laugh. She wasn't sure why but she laughed , and tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind Belle's ear. The librarian blushed, the flush in her cheeks not just because of the adrenaline.

She began to sit up, half straddling her girlfriend when the witch popped up with: "While I am happy to see you, now's not the time."

"Less flirting more fighting!" David yelled, mid-duel with one of the guards.

Right. Yeah. Prison break.

Maeve cracked her neck. "Alright." In a puff of smoke, she was a boa constrictor. A raptor. A bat. Her blood was buzzing with the kind of magic that turned caterpillars to butterflies and embers to wildfires. Her enemies never stood a chance.

Annuvin, Years Ago

"This is Oberon," Mim introduced, petting the crow's head. "He's a little smartmouth, but I love him." The bird made a noise, whether in censure or agreement Vivienne couldn't say. "Oh hush," the witch responded, pressing a kiss to his beak.

"He's your…familiar?"

"Yep."

"Because a second ago he was just a tattoo on your arm."

"Yeah. He can do that."

"Ahem," the owl spoke, puffing out his chest. Mim rolled her eyes. "And this mess of fuss and feathers is Archimedes, feel free to ignore him."

"Thank you for the compliment," he replied dryly. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Archimedes, familiar to the great Sorcerer Merlin. I act as his messenger, confidant—"

"And his spy." Maeve finished.

"He can see the future, what need would he have for a spy?"

"That wasn't a no, feather-brain."

The moment they had Merida and Lancelot secured was the same moment Merlin poofed them all out of there. Maeve knew where she was the millisecond they landed. Old stone, fresh soil, and the chirping of birds not native to Gramarye–the Green Chapel.

Able to breathe, Madam Mim took in the Sorcerer beside her. "So. Merlin himself in the flesh. Who wood be-leaf it."

"Maeve–"

"It must have been rough staying that stiff for centuries."

"Mim–"

"With all those squirrels nibbling at your acorns."

A small laugh, but it grew. Deep and wheezing, from someone long unaccustomed to it. Maeve didn't realize it was coming from Merlin.

"It's good to see you too, Maeve."

Things were a blur of activity after that point. They ended up in the sun garden at the east side of the Chapel. Maeve's head was too noisy for her to focus on anything for long. But it was fine. Merlin had given her a hug. Belle was in sight. Oberon was perched on her leg, and someone had handed her a cup of tea at some point.

That wasn't unusual. The Chaos in her blood usually needed a bit of time to adjust to the Green Chapel. Like hers, the magic of the Green Knight wasn't Darkness or Light. Normally it didn't take this long, though…

Killian's voice pierced through the noise, if only for a moment. "Hold on a moment, mate. Didn't Cora kill you?"

Lancelot laughed. "Yes well, I was called 'Leviathan' for a reason."

She took another sip of tea.

"How are you?" Merlin was sitting next to her. When did that happen?

"Maeve?"

"Hm?" The girl looked up again, finally registering his presence.

"I asked how are you?" They were alone in the sun garden now. The Green Chapel's enchantments made it very sensitive to the needs of its guests. What they needed was privacy.

She tilted her head, putting him in mind of a befuddled puppy.

"Well, my father's dead, the Savior is the Dark One, and I'm back in a land where I'm basically universally despised. You tell me." Mim wasn't really saying this. It was just words that were coming out.

Archimedes was right, there was something very wrong with her.

"Could be worse. You're still together, at least." Keep talking, keep her talking. If she wasn't Unraveling, then it could still be salvaged. He could almost see it, whatever spell was wrapping itself around her. Emphasis on almost. Her chaos magic, for all it protected her, made it very hard to see any other spells that were affecting her. He had no idea what it was doing, and there were too many visions to sort through. If he had Excalibur, or Dyrnwyn, he'd be able to get a better sense of it, but both were out of his reach.

Oberon tugged at his sleeve. The familiar could feel it too, whatever was happening to his master.

"He never lost faith, you know…and I know he would be proud of you. What you've done."

He waved a hand over the bird. In a puff of pink-purple smoke, the bird returned to its master. A tattoo on her arm, waiting to come when he was called. With that recall, Merlin could slip a bit of his magic alongside Oberon. Her Chaos wouldn't reject his Light.

"Yeah, but to be fair I set the bar pretty low." Maeve ducked her head. She rubbed her eyes, her gaze a bit less foggy. "There's much we still need to speak of…later. I want…I need," she sniffed the air, and winced. "...a bath."

A nod. "Later." He'd have the night to mull it over and figure out what it was. If it was something worth worrying about then…well, he'd tell her in the morning.

After that talk with Merlin, Maeve was feeling marginally better. Enough so that when Merida approaches her in the hallway, holding her to her word, she's actually able to follow what's being said.

"Princess, you have my word that we will leave at first light," Oberon shuffles beneath her skin, and Maeve let out a long sigh. "But tonight, let's take the time to gather our wits and take what rest we can."

The queen to be agreed, she didn't like it, but she agreed.

The Mad Madam ran a hand over her face. All she wanted right now was a hot bath and a stiff drink. Another sip of tea, and she tasted whiskey.

"Thank you."

"Thank you again, Lady de Hautdesert," Robin smiled at their hosts. "For the lovely meal, and offering us sanctuary."

"It is no issue, and my wife," a nauseating smile at the other woman, "do loves to have company."

Regina tries not to roll her eyes.

While the Green Chapel was a far better place to stay than the crashed diner, Arthur's dungeons or worst of all, the middle of the woods, their host had the demeanor of a golden retriever and the chaos of the last few days was grating. Just a little.

Absently, she notices Belle excuse herself from the table. Probably off to go read or something.

"What does Merida–" Belle blinked. "You're naked."

"Yes."

She should look away. Definitely. And she did! When she'd found Maeve's door unlocked, she half suspected to find her face down on the mattress, not–well. Face heating, Belle turns away from the bathtub. She clears her throat. "What did you promise Merida? And why does she seem to think I'm part of it?"

"I promised her I'd help her save her brothers," Maeve explained, over a sudden bubbling sound. "You can look now.

She was still in the bathtub. But now the water was a dark purple color, so at least she couldn't see anything through the water. Belle wasn't sure if that was a disappointment or not, but focused on the matter at hand.

"Very long story short, the leading figures disapprove of a woman on the throne, and are taking it out on her family. As Queen of Annuvin, I agreed to help. I didn't volunteer you, love, and you don't have to go if you don't want to. "

Belle raised her chin. "Well, it's a good thing I want to help. I'm going with you." Merlin had said that something was wrong. If he was right, then she wanted to be there to keep an eye on her.

"Okay." Maeve coughed.

"Okay?" She raised an eyebrow. "You're not–"

"Why would–" but she kept coughing. "Belle—" her hands gripped the edges of the tub, cracking the porcelain. Fear shone in her eyes, and the librarian struggled to try and help. "Get–get out of–" the coughs racking Maeve's body, Belle had the presence of mind to pull the stopper out of the tub.

Arthur had double and triple checked each and every rune himself. Carefully drew it out in chalk on the floor of Merlin's workshop. The vial of blood, and the square of flesh he'd taken from the damned witch. The Sorcerer had reclaimed his lost pet, yes, but he'd soon find he'd reclaimed a poisoned chalice.

Grif, his loyal squire, stood in the middle of the circle with him. Arthur could not ask for a better man to stand here, in loyalty and in service.

"For Camelot." Grif breathed. Arthur cupped the back of his head, and pressed the knife against his jugular. It would be quick, if nothing else.

"For Camelot."

The slice of the blade echoed in the chamber. The splash of blood lit up the runes.

"Merlin!" Belle tried to call, as the purple-black ichor flowed from Maeve's mouth. A vile smell, acidic, metallic—under the candle light of her quarters, drops of black ichor sizzled it hit the porcelain tub. Something pushed her away from Maeve, but Belle caught herself. Blood and bile splattered the ground as a jaw unhinged from its socket.

"MERLIN!"

"No, no, no—" Maeve gurgled. She curled in onto herself, like a child hiding underneath a bed. In horror and rapture, Belle watched as the change rippled through Maeve's body, no smoke to mask it.

Around her neck, the mess of purple ichor spilled out like blood from a cut throat. It reshaped into a mantle of purple-black, oily feathers.

There was a horrible snapping sound. The shrill screech of death's own horsemen and the low roar of a great beast rolled into one.

"Maeve?"

At last, at last, the screaming stopped.

It turned. Legs stayed stationary as the top half complexly twisted around. The ooze had covered all of Maeve now. Muscle and flesh were gone. The face was only a bleached white bird's skull. Six black sockets with no eyes.

The edges of ribs jutting out from her chest, the ooze unable to smother the dark red glow of a beating heart.

For the first time in centuries, the Horned King opened his eyes.

Arthur presented the horned helm. "King Pellinore, I presume?"

"Yes," a slow, lazy smile stretched over undead lips. "Yes, I am."

End note:

Whenever I get stuck on characterization, I just remember that Arthur thinks he's the hero of a high fantasy novel while Mim is a high level DnD character that finally got past the murderhobo stage.

Hope you've enjoyed!