Arthur throws a party, Belle third wheels a date, Regina does some impersonation, and the Queen of Air and Darkness gets name dropped. Not necessarily in that order.

Enjoy!


Villains who twirl their mustaches are easy to spot. Those who clothe themselves in good deeds are well-camouflaged.

—Star Trek: The Next Generation, "The Drumhead"


Camelot, 25 years before the original Dark Curse...

Arthur was cleaning out the stables when he found it. A coat of arms, bright and colorful, and folded up and shoved underneath a box of horseshoe nails.

"Sir Ector...what's this?" The stable boy asked, holding it up for the lord's inspection.

"That is the banner of Uther Pendragon, the last King of Camelot." Sir Ector sighed, looking a bit...sad.

"I thought that Kay said that we don't have a king? Why...is that?" The boy ventured.

Ector scoffed. "King Uther died without an heir, and now everyone seems to be squabbling over whose arse is going to sit on the throne, and not allowing anyone else a moment's peace. That's why Camelot's referred to as the Broken Kingdom." Arthur wanted to ask more, but then Sir Ector turned and lead his horse out of the stable.

Arthur looked back at the banner, suddenly a bit more intrigued. Kay must have noticed the boy's interest, because not too long later, because like with anything the stable boy tried to do, Kay made fun of him.

"It's just an old banner. Just tear it up and use it for rags." The lord's son scoffed derisively, riding off for a jousting lesson.

But Arthur didn't want to tear it up. It was old, but so...colorful. So the stable boy put it back where he found it, carefully folding it back up and putting it in the chest.

Later that night, when the chores were done, the stable boy crept back to the box and took the banner out again. He wasn't entirely sure why, he just...wanted to. Hugging the red and gold banner to his chest, Arthur ran out towards the big old tree towards the edge of town. He liked to go out there to sit and think.

The boy sat beneath the boughs of the tree, and stared at the banner in his hands. It was the nicest thing he had, probably, and he only had it because no one else wanted it.

"Hello Arthur," a voice suddenly spoke out in the darkness.

"Who are you! Who's there!" The boy demanded, looking around, and seeing no one. "Kay, I swear if this is some kind of joke.."

"I'm not Kay." The voice responded with a chuckle. "My name is Merlin, and I'm right behind you."

Arthur spun around, but only saw the tree. He peeked around it, but again no one was there.

The stable boy suddenly had a thought. "Wait...are you the tree?" He asked, squinting at it.

"Yes I am."

"Is this...some kind of joke? Do you like scaring people by talking to them out of nowhere?"

"That does sound funny, but no. I'm stuck here, unfortunately."

"Stuck? What did you do to get stuck in a tree?"

The voice was silent for a long moment. "I...tangled with a very powerful spellcaster called the Dark One. And I lost. My name is Merlin, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you," Arthur responded automatically, still feeling just a bit odd "...wait a minute, you're Merlin? "

"Yes,"

"Like, Merlin, Merlin, the Sorcerer?"

"Again, yes."

The stable boy had heard of Merlin, of course. A powerful wizard who had lived in Camelot centuries ago, but disappeared off the face of the earth. According to legend, he was the one who transformed the lands of what was now Camelot from a desert wasteland to a land of greenery and forests. (He didn't, that was the gods' doing. Merlin was just around to see it happen)

"You're the most powerful Sorcerer in the land...and you're stuck in a tree?" He asked, tilting his head up in confusion.

Again, the voice was silent for a long moment. "Yes."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh at that, just a bit.

But that offended the tree, just a bit. "Oh, well then, I guess you don't want to hear my prophesy about you then. Goodnight."

"What?" Arthur stopped. "No, I-I'm sorry, what prophesy? What do you mean?"

Merlin chuckled to himself. "That banner you're holding?" He looked down at the fabric bunched up in his hands. "It's yours."

"What?" The stable boy looked back up. "What do you mean?"

"King Uther of the Royal House of Pendragon was your father, Arthur. He secreted you and your mother away before you were born, and before he died."

Arthur looked down. His mother...his mother had run off not long after giving birth to him. She hadn't wanted him, and no one had been kind enough to try and spare that fact from the young stable boy. "But, Sir Ector said-he would have said something, right? If my mother was queen, he would have known her, right?"

"Your mother's identity was...not known in full by Sir Ector." (This was the point where the Sorcerer needed to do some, shall we say, selective editing. No need to tell the kid about the less than ideal/dubiously consensual circumstances of his birth). "The truth of your parentage was kept even from him

"But me, I'm-I'm just a stable boy. How can you be sure?"

The tree whispered again. "I foresaw it, Arthur. I saw that the lost son of Pendragon would be my great hope. That he would grow up unaware of his heritage, but when the time was right, would pull the sword Excalibur from the stone, and unite a broken kingdom. Destroying the Darkness once and for all."

(I'd pay attention to that bit)

Arthur looked down at the banner in his hands. At the red lion, strong and proud and everything he wanted to be but wasn't.

"You, Arthur, are that boy who would be king. This village will become the seat of the great kingdom of Camelot, and you shall rule."

"I'm...going to be a king someday?" The boy asked, looking up, a spark of hope in his eyes.

"Yes, and the girl...Guinevere, shall be your queen."

The boy's smile brightened.


Camelot, Present Day...

"Why would Mim run off like that?" David pondered as the group made their way back to the crash-landed diner. After finding Emma safe and (relatively) sound, there had been a delay in noticing the disappearance of a certain purple-haired witch. "She seemed determined to help get rid of the Darkness last night."

"I might be able to answer that." Emma pipped up. "I, uh ran into a friend of Mim's, the Green Knight. She told me that Madam Mim wasn't exactly welcome in Camelot, and to not mention her unless we wanted to make enemies."

Killian nodded. "The shapeshifter's made no secret about her dark past. Perhaps it would be in our best interest to heed this knight's warning."

"Besides, we don't even know if she's run off, she could have just headed back to the diner. To let everyone know the good news." Mary Margaret added, as hopeful sounding as ever.

"She'd better," Regina grumbled. "Because Mim's the only one who can use the wand, and without that there's no easy way of getting back to Storybrooke."

Emma looked down, remembering her last two misadventures in the Enchanted Forest. Both times required her jumping through a lot of hoops (and a fair amount of danger) to get back to Storybrooke. Although, it did have some certain benefits...she looked back over to her leather clad pirate boyfriend.

"Don't worry, Swan, dubious past or not, Maeve's not the type to leave us stranded. She'll be back." Killian assured with those big blue eyes. She smiled, and could almost believe it. But Emma had enough adventures by now to realize that it probably wouldn't be that simple or smooth.


Camelot, Fast Forwarding a Few Hours Later...

"So the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms...is stuck inside a bloody tree?" Killian grimaced, and had the distinct feeling that somewhere, somehow, Madam Mim was laughing at them.

(Would you look at that? A complication)

Emma was feeling something quite similar, the Green Knight's warnings about Merlin not being able to help making all the more sense with the proper and leafy context.

"I said the same exact thing the first time I stood there," Arthur agreed.

"And you think we can get him out?"

"Oh, we don't think. We know. Merlin's prophesies are never wrong."

(Recurring theme alert)

"Our home," David spoke up, "is being threatened by...it's called the Dark One."

"The Dark One...yes, we're well aware of that demon." Arthur agreed, to the father of said demon. "I pray Merlin can help, but first we must free him from his prison." He gestured to the oak tree.

"It is said that one of you is the Savior," (There was an awkward beat where no on in the Storybrooke group made eye contact with anyone else. Robin Hood gained a sudden interest in his shoes, and Snow White glanced at a large black crow perched nearby) "So which of you is it?" He looked around, expectant.

Awkward.


"Never do that to me again." Emma demanded, the Dark Magic thrumming in her veins.

The newly self-appointed Savior, Regina, scoffed.


"Do you think we can trust him. Arthur?" Killian asked as they were preparing themselves for this ball. They'd been escorted to their rooms by servants. Separate rooms. (Not that Killian had any problem with sneaking off to see his Swan in the middle of the night, but it was the principle of the thing, really.)

David laced up his doublet. "Well, every legend about him paints him as a hero. I'd say that's a pretty good sign."

"Doesn't the Land Without Magic also claim that I'm a 'coward with a perm' to quote your daughter?" Killian wrinkled his nose, remembering Emma's laughter once he finally realized how her world portrayed him.

"Ah, well, they get a lot of other things right...usually. Although," David chuckled, "they also claimed that Madam Mim was a crazy old lady that lived in a woods and thought she was a better wizard than Merlin."

"Well, she's certainly not the one stuck in a tree, now is she?" That earned him another chuckle.

They lapsed into silence. Once Killian was even more devilishly handsome than normal, he turned to look at his companion. David had a pensive look on his face, and seemed to be half-lost in his own musings.

"What's on your mind, mate?" The pirate asked, casually. Much like his daughter, the prince seemed to often keep unpleasant feelings buried inside.

"Just thinking about Henry, really. He's keeping up a brave face, but, I'm afraid that's all it is. Who knows how hard this must be for him."

Bealfire would have known.

His hand stilled over tying up his vest. The thought had come suddenly, as did the memories that followed.

An impromptu sailing lesson, the wind in his hair carrying the smell of sea salt and enchanted wood. Originally trying to pump the boy for information, before he realized just how much in common they really shared.

He draws his power from a dagger?

Yes, it's the only power that could kill him. And the only thing he truly cares about anymore...he chose it over me. My papa abandoned me too.

Baelfire-Neal. It had only been a handful of months since his passing, and Killian found himself thinking of the man less and less as time passed. Little things here and there, like how sometimes for a moment he'd see Henry in profile and mistake him for Bae, the name on the tip of his tongue. Then he'd blink and realize his mistake. Remember a lot of other mistakes too, actually.

He quickly returned to the task at hand, trying to banish the memories that wouldn't bring him anything but guilt and regret.

Still, he couldn't help but think, between parental abandonment and dark magic, it seemed history just kept on repeating itself with this family.


"Am I a bad person, leaving Rumple behind?" The librarian asked, as they were preparing for the ball. She was sharing a room with Granny, and the old woman was helping her with her dress.

"What on earth brought that on?" The old werewolf asked, finishing tying up the laces.

"I feel bad...that I don't feel bad." Belle admitted, moving to sit down at the edge of the bed. "I told myself that I was done with him, I told Maeve that I knew where I needed to be...but maybe I'm just running away." She looked down at the stone floor as a feeling of nausea rose in her gut.

Granny peered over the edge of her spectacles, eyes sharp as ever. "Now you stop thinking that nonsense right now. What were you going to do in Storybrooke? Wait at his bedside as he lies there like a brick, crossing your fingers that he doesn't die-or that he does, I don't judge-and wonder what we're all doing off in Camelot? I happen to remember a rather intelligent brunette skulking in my diner rejecting cheeseburgers for that very reason."

She sat down next to the young woman, and put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "You've had more than your fair share of heartache because of that man, so don't waste time worrying over something that you have no control over. Here with us, you can do some good-don't think I've forgotten all the times it was your research that had us save the day. Imagine what you can do with all those magical goodies I bet your girlfriend gave you."

For the first time, Belle was embraced, and felt the full force of a grandmother's loving embrace. (They live in a pseudo-medieval society with medieval level medicine, people. The average life expectancy is probably like 60 not counting plagues, ogres, or an evil monarch waking up on the wrong side of the bed that morning).

Spirits renewed, she finished dolling herself up for the evening.

Belle folded up Maeve's jacket and placed it in a trunk with the rest of her clothes from Storybrooke. After a moment of deliberation, she also grabbed the bell jar.

Wherever Maeve was, Belle hoped she was doing okay.


Maeve was fine.

Totally, utterly, and absolutely fine. It wasn't like her dad had just died in her arms less than 24 hours ago. Nah, it was all good in Mim-town. In fact, she was on her third bottle of whiskey for the evening just to celebrate how absolutely fine she was.

It was quite a sight, seeing the colorful witch slumped over the throne room, surrounded by booze and the dust of centuries. Archimedes had known the woman for decades, seen her through a string of highs and lows, and those first frustrating, halting steps towards something like redemption. But he'd never seen her this...broken.


"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Snow White asked her dwarven companion. Doc shook his head.

"Nah, I'll just end up third wheeling Leroy and Astrid."

Compared to being stuck with those lovebirds all evening, babysitting Prince Neal sounded almost divine.


For her ballgown, the fairy formerly known as Nova was dressed in seafoam green, with a full skirt and bell sleeves. She felt so beautiful. It was different from her fairy outfit, with the wide hoop skirt, sparkles and frills, but Astrid loved it all the same.

"How do I look?" The brunette asked, suddenly feeling shy.

Astrid had never been to a ball before. All of the people, and the music, the food the dancing...it was its own kind of magic, she was absolutely sure of it. Could feel it in the air, almost.

"You're the only star I see, sister." The dwarf smiled, his tone a bit...grumpier than traditional sweet nothings, but the fairy learned to hear the intent underneath long ago.


After everything that had happened, Belle really hadn't felt up to dancing. Not wanting to spoil her friend's evening, she'd taken her rose to a corner of the room to sulk while listening to nice background music.

But then that started to feel like she was just feeling sorry for herself, so instead, she went over every little thing she knew about the Dark One, which seemed somewhat contradictory at times-after all, why would a supposedly immortal being need a resurrection spell built into their vault? Or maybe it was the other way around, and the fact there was that back up helped perpetuate the immortal nature of the Dark One curse. It would certainly explain how close the dreamshade came to killing him, with the poison's magical nature and Rumple's lack of magic at the time of poisoning likely helped things along.

Belle gazed at the rose. Now here they were again, with Rumple on death's door, and the Apprentice's final spell being the only thing keeping him alive.

A pang came with the thought of that kind old man. She hadn't gotten a chance to know him that well in the few weeks separating his release and his death, but the love between father and daughter was clear to see, and she'd been so happy Maeve had gotten her father back. After her own mother's death, Belle had chased her last memories with a single minded determination, even risking Anna's life.

Maeve had stepped away from the situation, from doing something to avenge her father, so they could free Emma from her father's murderer. The librarian sighed, wishing she had the witch by her side. Maeve shouldn't be going through this alone.

"Lady Belle, was it?" A voice suddenly appeared at her side. She turned, and was surprised by the sight of King Arthur himself.

"Your Majesty," she bowed. After all, while Belle was heiress to a small dukedom in the Enchanted Forest, and had been taught some manners.

"I couldn't help but notice you here on the balcony by yourself. I do hope Sir Gareth's jig didn't scare you off of the dance floor," he joked with a smile.

"No, no, I just...haven't felt in the mood for dancing, to be completely honest."

The king nodded, solem. "Yes, I imagine the threat to your home, especially by one like the Dark One, would weigh heavily on your mind. Still, I would hope that the festive spirit would clear away the worries, if for only an evening."

Belle smiled back, appreciative. As the conversation fell into silence, years of courtly manners and etiquette rushed back.

"I was, uh, just wondering about the tapestry ." She pointed to the wall hanging that she'd just noticed. That was mostly a lie, she'd been far more concerned about Rumplestiltskin or Maeve, but it was a far safer topic of conversation.

"Oh, that old thing? That depicts the war between my ancestor, King Pelles, and the Horned King of Annuvin."

"That sounds fascinating, would you mind telling me more about it?" The entreaty was genuine, Belle had always loved to learn. (There was a tug of memory at the word 'Annuvin', and

Once more, the king gave a polite smile. "Well, I'm not much of a storyteller, but I'll try my best. Over two hundred years ago, King Pelles, also known as the Fisher King, heard of invaders approaching Camelot." He gestured to the crowned knight at the head of a retinue of knights, opposite another man, robbed in a deep crimson and wearing a striking horned helm. "Annuvin was a small nation to the far west of Gramarye, but under the Horned King's rule, it rose to power, conquering its way eastward until reaching the borders of Camelot. Almost none could match them in strength, especially with the Horned King's magic." Based on his tone, Belle could only assume that the King of Camelot had a deep interest in history.

"But the Fisher King defeated him, I assume?"

"You would assume wrong, my Lady. Unfortunately, my ancestor was defeated, and Camelot would have fallen next had the Horned King not died soon after. But even that wasn't the boon it should have been, as the Fisher King died without a clear heir, and the division and infighting lasted well into the reign of my father, King Uther." He sighed.

"I, uh, suppose that's what Excalibur was for? To help prove that you're the true king?"

Arthur gave the most genuine smile since their conversation began. "Yes, yes it did."

( And saddled me with a broken kingdom and an impossible quest , the bitter king couldn't help but think)


The couple formerly known as Grumpy and Nova were having a wonderful time. They danced ever single dance together, even if neither of them knew the proper steps, and were having a great time. Seeing all of their friends doing the same, twirrling and laughing together...once could almost forget their troubles.

All but one, it seemed. Leroy had noticed Belle in the far corner after the last waltz ended, and glancing over to Astrid, he saw the fairy saw her too.

The couple made their way towards the melancholy librarian on the balcony. Belle was ignoring the festivities in favor of once more absently staring at the rose jar.

"I wanted to come to help Emma and to support Maeve—she did, after all just lose her father." She sighed and looked out into the night. "But then she just...ran off, and I'm here staring at a flower that's letting me know how close Rumple is to death."

"Belle, it's our first day here. We know where Merlin is and you, the Queen—I mean, the Savior," Astrid corrected as one of the knights passed by, flashing a polite smile and nod. "And Emma, you all working together are going to find a way to fix this." The fairy assured, placing a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder.

Belle offered a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Your girl's tough." He assured, thinking of the wily shape-shifter. "She'll turn up eventually."

"Thanks Leroy...would you care to dance?"

Astrid all but pushed the two friends onto the dance floor.


"Well," David sighed, hands on hips. "That was...exciting."

"Oh you mean Percival trying to kill Regina, almost killing Robin, so you killed Percival?"

"In a nutshell."


Emma belatedly realized that she hadn't told Killian about the whole 'lack of sleep' thing.

It made sense, in its own way. If you needed to sleep, all the more opportunities for someone to steal the dagger. Emma huffed at the memory, of feeling the choke chain around her throat when Regina told her to 'shut up', or claiming the title of Savior for herself.

And then she has the audacity to go 'you should be thanking me'? Royal bitch.

The blonde shook her head, not liking the way the Darkness growled for revenge.

As much as she loved drinking in her boyfriend's looks, staring at him while he slept was starting to feel a bit creepy. (Starting to?)

With a careful step, Emma left their room and snuck out to explore a bit more of the castle. Compared to creaky floorboards and often unpleasant foster parents, it was more than a breeze. She walked until she found a balcony in one of the towers, a soft breeze bringing the scent of pine and wildflowers.

Emma rested her chin in her hand, and looked out over the landscape below. In the amount of times she'd been in the Enchanted Forest, she'd been way more occupied on not dying and getting back home than to stop and properly appreciate her surroundings.

Don't get her wrong, she'd take indoor plumbing, penicillin, WiFi and onion rings any day, but a legendary fairy tale kingdom certainly had its own perks.

Dark One back seat drivers notwithstanding, of course.


Arthur sat at his place at the Round Table, wine and inspecting the latest addition to their reliquary. A messenger had appeared after the ball, bearing news and an important package bearing Sir Gawain's seal. That knight was off on a special mission for Camelot, and had sent back an enchanted cauldron and ladle set, both indestructible. Useful, he supposed, but not really what he was looking for.

King Arthur leaned back in his chair, gritting his teeth in frustration.

Before he died, the Horned King had been searching for something called the Black Cauldron, a magical artifact rumored to have the power to raise an army of the dead. Any hint to the Cauldron's present location would naturally be in the Horned King's castle.

Previously, Arthur's attempts had been thwarted by the presence of Annuvin's current ruler, the Queen Witch. A troublesome woman, and one clever enough to make herself a nuisance if she knew what she was sitting on. If she knew of the Cauldron or that the castle may contain clues to its location, the queen would undoubtedly seek it out for her own purposes. (And based on the fact that there wasn't a skeletal army already marching its way through Gramarye, he was pretty sure she hadn't found it either).

Not too long ago, the queen and her people had been swept up in the second Dark Curse, leaving their lands empty and abandoned. One would think that would leave her castle and its secrets ripe for the taking. But one would be wrong.

Because the Horned King's castle was located at the top of a nearly impassable mountain range with precisely one path that would lead a traveler up there safely. The other pathways were riddled with pitfalls, narrow ledges, and sudden drops that would make even the most experienced mountaineer brown his pants if he didn't know the way. So everyone who might know how to navigate that path was in an entirely different realm, and no amount of gold or kingly promises could prod anyone else into trying.

For now at least, whatever clues may lie in the Horned King's castle are currently beyond his reach. Arthur had managed to find a possible work around, but the spell required some rather specific ingredients. Ingredients he sent Sir Gawain out to try and find.

Arthur wanted that Cauldron. Its power would grant him an unstoppable force completely under his command with which to defend his kingdom. Everyone and everything that stood in the way of that goal was an enemy to Camelot, and he would strike them down. (You know, like, invading the small kingdom of DunBroch in secret, and killing their king in order to try and claim a magical helm, totally heroic actions like that.)

For all his progress, Camelot remained a Broken Kingdom. A Broken Kingdom that Arthur was destined to repair. A goddamn impossibly destiny it seemed, but one he was well and truly stuck with. Because how in the bloody hell was he supposed to repair literally centuries worth of damage and division without magic?

Bloody Sorcerer. Bloody Tree, Arthur mentally cursed, not for the first time and certainly not the last.

The Dark Curse has come and gone, but the Dark One—or more importantly his dagger— had not been seen in the Enchanted Forest since Lancelot and Guinevere's quest into the Dark One's vault. There had been rumors of some activity there last winter but nothing had come of it.

But Arthur had all but mastered snatching small victories from the jaws of defeat. Even if Guinevere hadn't been able to retrieve the dagger five years ago, her quest brought him the Sands of Avalon, guaranteeing her place by his side as his loyal queen. And the growth and prosperity of their kingdom, with the sands doing in minutes what would normally take years to build.

Arthur was promised Guinevere, Camelot, and Excalibur-and he would take what was promised to him. By any means necessary.


Bonus points if you can tell where this is heading :)

Smarter people than me have pointed out that Arthur has some serious entitlement issues. He feels he is promised something—like say, a loyal queen and a heroic destiny—and lashes out when he doesn't get it. That combined with an ego and the serious belief that he's the hero of this story makes one hell of a villainous package

As always, if you like what you've read here and you want to see more, leave your thoughts/questions/concerns and comment below.