*FOUR*

Rumpelstiltskin frowned as his eyes fluttered open, the last dregs of slumber leaving his body. He immediately noticed the absence of his beloved's warmth in the bed with him and he searched the encroaching shadows for her. His weathered features relaxed as he found her standing beneath one of the barred windows, the dying rays of the sun shining on her hair, highlighting the hints of red hidden within the chestnut locks. Her head was bowed, her hands folded before her and her lips moving but emitting not the slightest sound.

Seeing her standing there in all her innocent beauty, illuminated by the setting sun and looking like an angel, made him want to reevaluate his decision to bind her to him through the spell. He knew it would do him no good. Once her mind was made up, not even a pack of angry trolls could sway her resolve. She didn't notice when he rose from the cot and approached her, startling when he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Belle?" he asked gently. "Are you alright, dearie?"

She smiled weakly at him and nodded. "Of course. Just a bit nervous I suppose. It's nearly time," she said, glancing up through the bars at the moon climbing higher into the night sky.

Rumpelstiltskin followed her gaze. "I estimate we have another hour at most. He brushed a stray curl behind her ear, his frown matching the one that marred her brow. He wanted so badly to profess his love for her in case the worst happened, to be able to say it just once, yet at the same time he didn't want her to think he was only telling her because he was afraid he wouldn't get another chance. His lips twitched, but his attempt at a smile came across more as a grimace.

"Belle, I…"

Her fingers to his lips halted his words. "Are you ready?" she asked, her eyes pleading with him to save his heartfelt confession for later. After the spell, they would have all the time they needed to profess what was in their hearts and she couldn't convince herself otherwise.

He looked as if he wanted to argue with her, but instead sighed resignedly and nodded. Taking her hands in his, crimson mist enveloped them. Belle's mouth formed a little silent 'o' of surprise as she took in his form. He was dressed in a simple white cotton tunic and trousers of the same material that ended mid-calf, the lower half of his legs and feet bare. She looked down at herself as she noticed his appreciative stare and realized her own clothes had been changed to match his. A rosy blush rose to stain her cheeks and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze, feeling exposed before him. She wasn't used to having her legs on display in such a way, the slender curves of her thighs clearly outlined and the heat in his warm amber eyes conveyed just how much he was enjoying the view.

"The fire is going to make it rather uncomfortable, and all natural fibers breathe better. I don't want you collapsing on me," he said, releasing her hands and moving to his worktable.

Belle looked down at the pentagram he'd drawn on the floor of the dungeon room, a golden dragon in the center and a red circle around the five-pointed star. "What do we need to do first?" she asked, drawing a shaky breath.

His head was bowed over the table, his palms flat against the surface, and she could practically see the tension rolling off of him in waves. "First thing you need to do is tell me why you're doing this? Why you're so willing to bind yourself to me?" He turned to find her standing at his back and he took her upper arms in a gentle grip. "Belle, please think about this."

Slowly she inched forward…giving him the opportunity to avoid the close contact if he so desired…and splayed her hands over his chest, reveling in the steady thrum of his heart beneath her palm. "I have thought of little else since yesterday, Rumpel, and I can think of no one I would rather be bound to. You made the deal with me and I'll not let you break it. You're mine now as I am yours," she said fervently, reaching up on her toes to press a kiss to the thin line of his mouth.

His hands traveled up her arms to settle on her shoulders, the pads of his thumbs teasing the sensitive flesh beneath her ears and raising goose bumps along her skin. "Belle, I don't want you to rush blindly into this. You have no idea what will happen to you," he said, his voice an urgent whisper as he tried to make her understand his hesitance.

"I trust you," she replied, her eyes wide and filled with unwavering faith in him. That faith only made him feel worse for what they were about to do.

"Blood magic is not something to play with, dearie. I will have a part of you within me…I'll be able to feel you, your thoughts and emotions, your hidden desires no matter how far apart we may be. You will become a part of me, Belle. Others will see you as the Dark One's servant, but I will see you as my equal. You will live as long as I do. What if you decide immortality doesn't suit you or that you were rash in promising me forever?"

Belle's heart swelled until she thought it would burst from her chest. "No one has ever seen me as their equal, Rumpel. I don't think you'll ever realize how much that mean to me. Will I be able to feel you as well? Through our bond?"

He had to force himself to focus as he already felt the pull of her allure. "Yes."

She nodded, her mind irrevocably made up. "I want this…to be yours. I will not change my mind."

He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply as he felt the magic of their deal sink deeper into him, unbreakable through the sheer force of her will. "Very well. But there is something I need to give you before we begin." He released her and moved to the trunk, retrieving a large book he'd taken from one of the more unused sections of her library, the tome covered in a fine layer of dust. He set the book on the table, his brow furrowing in a deep frown as Belle took several steps back, alarm on her lovely face. "Belle, what is it?"

"What's that doing here?" she asked, wrapping one arm around herself in a protective gesture and pointing a finger at the book.

"What?" he asked. Dawning realization that she knew what was hidden in the book struck him like a physical blow and his eyes darkened with anger and distrust. "You know what's in here," he snarled in a menacing hiss. "How do you know what's hidden here?"

"I was researching your curse and I-I was going through your magical texts. I know I shouldn't have, but I wanted to know more about you," she stammered, guilt draining the color from her cheeks and leaving it ashen. She was all too familiar with his temper and was happy it was very seldom directed at her. But she knew he would see this as a betrayal of his trust and she rushed to explain further. "The dagger is the source of your power, but also your weakness. I knew that without having read about it because of stories I'd been told as a child. I—"

"How did I never sense you with it?" he asked incredulously, feeling like ten kinds of fool for never suspecting anything.

"I never touched it." She gasped as his hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist in a vise-like grip, pulling her against his chest. "I knew and I couldn't bring myself to touch it no matter how curious I was."

"Why? Anyone else would have sold their own mother to Hades to lay hands on my dagger," he breathed, staring in wonder at his precious girl, the breath growing stagnant in his lungs, the air held within as he waited for her answer.

Belle took in a trembling breath as she tried to read the riot of emotion playing across his face. "I don't want to control you, Rumpel, and I certainly don't want to kill you to gain your power. I want you to trust me…trust that I will never hurt you like that."

He brought her wrist to his lips and pressed them gently to the translucent flesh and its spider web of veins, her pulse beating frantically. "Will you ever cease to amaze me?"

"Y-You're not angry? Because a moment ago you were wearing your Dark One face," she said behind a tremulous smile.

He huffed a gruff laugh. "My Dark One face?"

She hummed in agreement. "It can be quite intimidating when it's directed at me."

"Then I will strive to never direct it at you again, my dear. I don't want you to be afraid of me. It's fine for everyone else to fear me, but not you, Belle," he said passionately. He tugged on her hand, pulling her forward and using his free hand to open the book, the dagger with its bold lettering spelling out his name staring back at them. "Will you take it, Belle?" he asked, lifting it from the hollowed innards of the book and holding it out to her.

"I don't want it."

"But I need you to take it, Belle."

She closed her hand into a tight fist as he tried to press the handle of the dagger into her palm. "Rumpel, no. I don't want it. I don't need your bloody dagger to control you…either of you," she protested hotly.

"This is why I," he took a deep breath forcing himself to say the word that threatened to burn a hole in his tongue, "trust you with it, because you don't want its power. This is to ensure your safety, not to make you my mistress."

The irritation she'd felt drained out of her as she read the truth in his face, his eyes and the lilt of his voice. "You really trust me with this." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact and she couldn't hide the wonder in her own tone.

He nodded solemnly. "I do, Belle. Please, love?" he asked with a shy quirk of his lips.

Belle narrowed her eyes. Now he's just playing dirty. He's playing on my desire to have him trust me as well as testing how much I care for him. Sneaky imp! "I can give it back…you'll take it back after we do this?"

"If that is what you wish."

"I don't wish for it in the first place, Rumpel, but if it will give you peace of mind to focus on what you must do, then yes, fine, I'll do it." She sighed wearily and pried her fingers open to accept the kris from him. His eyes glowed with an inner light as he pressed the handle against her palm, evidently pleased that she'd bowed to his wishes and eager to see if she would make him bend to hers.

He visibly shivered as her hand tightly gripped the handle of the dagger and she was hard pressed to suppress one of her own. She could feel the power course up her arm and unruly thoughts came unbidden to her mind. I could make him tell me exactly how he feels about me, the reason why he chose me for his price when he was called upon by my father and so many others, she thought excitedly. Just as quickly she stomped on it with both feet. She couldn't do that to him. He needed to tell her those things on his own and in his own time. She wouldn't force him no matter how much she desired an answer to her burning questions.

Belle dragged her eyes away from his name emblazoned on the blade and took him in, his lips parted as he panted softly, seemingly excited at the prospect of being in her control. His eyes flashed from warm amber to deep onyx and back again as he fought the demon within. He rested his hand over her heart. "Feel it, my Belle, command it," he whispered brokenly, overwhelmed with sensation, wanting nothing more than to please her. "Command me."

His eyes bored into hers, a minute ring of amber ringing the dilated pupils blown wide with lust. A deep frown drew her brows together and she shivered. She didn't want him like this, under the command of his dagger and his will one with hers and not his own. "I don't want to," she said, tucking the dagger out of his sight and into the waistband at the back of her cotton trousers. "We should just do the spell and be done with it so I can give the dagger back to you."

His spell clever hands twitched at his sides, the yearning to touch her almost a physical pain. "Surely there must be something you want. Anything within my power is yours, mistress."

Her cerulean eyes flashed hotly. "Don't ever call me that again, Rumpelstiltskin. I mean it." Her mage dropped to his knees before her, groaning as he wrapped his arms around his stomach, his head bowed and his face shielded by his unruly mop of hair. She knelt before him, gripping his shoulders in her shaking hands, consumed with worry. "What is it? What's happening?"

A violent shudder wracked his thin frame and he leaned forward to rest his head against her shoulder, his voice little more than a pained whisper. "I-I displeased you."

"And this causes you pain?" she asked, horrified.

He nodded and pressed his face into the crook of her neck where it met her shoulder, seeking comfort. "The curse will not let me harm my mistress or cause any distress without suffering the consequences." He relaxed into her embrace as her hand moved to the nape of his neck and kneaded the tension from his drawn muscles. "I didn't know, Belle. I've never let anyone…no one has ever controlled me before."

Belle pulled him closer; her soft touch smoothing over his back, as she pressed gentle kisses to his brow and temples, shushing him. "I'm sorry, Rumpel. If I had known…" She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the tension leave him, his hands settling on her hips, his breath evening out against the smooth skin of her throat. "This is why you wanted me to have the dagger? So you can't harm me if you lose control."

"Precaution. You will ground me, I'm hoping, but I have to assure your safety," he whispered, his voice raspy as his lips trailed up to her ear and nipped lightly at the lobe. A low rumble of pleasure sounded deep in his throat as he felt her respond and he reveled in the moan that rose from her lips. "Want you so much."

She whimpered as he pulled her into him and scorched a path of hot open-mouthed kisses from her ear to her mouth, claiming her lips with all the pent up passion he'd felt for her over the past several months. He didn't kiss, he devoured, all lips, teeth and tongue, searching out every part of her mouth that would bring her pleasure. His arms wrapped tightly around her back, one hand dragging over the gentle slope of her behind to pull her up onto her knees with him and pressing her firmly against his arousal. But as much as she wanted him, she had to remain focused. She couldn't allow this all be for nothing and give into her passion.

With a strength she didn't know she possessed, she broke the kiss and held tightly to his shoulders, her nails digging into them through the soft cotton of his tunic. "Rumpel, we can't," she said, turning her head in the direction of the barred windows as the howl of a wolf cut through the still night. "Rumpel, we have to start the spell. I need you to focus." Giving the dagger to her had loosened his inhibitions and the tight control he kept upon himself, and as much as she rejoiced at having him give into his feelings for her, now was not the time. She moaned again as the flat of his tongue rasped over her collarbone and she knew if she didn't stop him now, she wouldn't be able to. "Rum, stop."

The sorcerer released her immediately and sat back on his haunches, breathing heavily. It took a moment, but eventually his eyes cleared and rose to meet hers. "I'm sorry, Belle," he said, lowering his head in shame. "I didn't mean to…"

"Don't apologize for wanting me. I want you too," she said softly, rising unsteadily to her feet and holding out her hand to him. He nodded, a smug smile curling up one corner of his mouth, but he couldn't let himself become distracted again.

Rumpelstiltskin turned to the pentagram he'd drawn earlier on the floor of the dungeon room, the cauldron filled with water set at its very center. He lit a magical fire beneath, the flames licking up the sides, willing it to heat the contents within. He concentrated, calling over his shoulder, "Belle, the stones on the table, bring them please."

Belle silently did as he asked and moved to the first point on the pentagram. The first stone she placed was an amethyst crystal. It would enhance the caster's intuitive powers and consecrate the circle. She moved to the next point, placing a smooth piece of agate. It would bring balance and prevent Rumpelstiltskin's magic from draining too quickly. The third was a piece of coral to be used in defense. It would keep the Dark One from gaining complete control over him. The fourth stone, a garnet, was placed on the point facing east and was to increase their chances of success. But the most crucial stone, an emerald nearly as large as her hand, she placed at the very top of the pentagram. Should Regina sense the source of the magic being cast, this stone would stop her from hexing Rumpelstiltskin and make her own magic rebound upon her tenfold…at least before the spell reached her and she was powerless to use her magic against them.

She left the circle and retrieved two candles, one black, one white, setting the black one next to the eastern point and the white next to the western point. They flared to life as she stepped back. She took her place on one side of the cauldron, beneath the northern point as Rumpelstiltskin drew a line of salt around the entire pentagram, sealing it and stepping to the opposite side between the two southernmost points and adding the powdered bicorn horn and a vial of dragon's blood to the now simmering water in the cauldron. She shivered, despite the heat of the fire and the steam that rose from the roiling cauldron.

His eyes met hers, his jaw set and his shoulders tense. An athame appeared in his palm with a quick flick of his wrist. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, the nervous coil in her stomach refusing to let her speak as she accepted the hand he held out to her. He held her hand palm up so their wrists were exposed. He looked as though he wanted to call a halt to the whole thing, hesitating with the knife poised over the green gold hue of his flesh. "I'm ready, Rumpel. Do it," she said firmly.

The blade flashed over the thin skin of his wrist, unable to resist her command, and his blood dripped into the cauldron, making it hiss and froth. "My blood, my life, my being…I bind to thee, forever yours as you are mine," he said, wincing at the sharp pain that traveled up his arm. He passed the athame to Belle, wishing he could wipe the fear from her eyes as she took it in her shaking hand and pressed the blade to her translucent skin.

She wanted so much to draw away from him, to free her grip from his to avoid the pain, but she tamped down her fear and sliced into her flesh, refusing to let this deter her from having her heart's desire. She repeated his words, "My blood, my life, my being…I bind to thee, forever yours as you are mine." Her blood dripped steadily into the roiling water, causing the hissing to stop and take on the color of a winter's mist. Belle blinked down into the cauldron as she realized she was no longer looking into water, but a thick fog that rolled over her, latent with the magic of the Dark One. He turned her wrist over and pressed it over his open wound, his blood flowing sinuously into her open vein, causing her to hiss with pain through her clenched teeth.

Belle felt light-headed and had to force herself to take deep calming breaths as his magic, the essence of his being, coursed through her veins to wind about her heart. She forced the panic away, focusing on him, locking her gaze to him as he shared everything he was with her. Tears blinded her and she blinked them away as images flashed across her mind's eye, images of death and loss and pain and horror.

And what is that noise, she thought through the haze of pain washing over her. It took a moment to realize it was her own shrieks of terror echoing through the dungeon room and she clamped down on her lower lip, biting hard to quell the sound.

It will pass, she heard in her mind. But he hadn't spoken. How could she have heard him when his lips were clamped together just as tightly as her own? It will pass, love. Hold on just a bit longer. Her lips parted on a gasp as she realized that he was speaking directly into her mind. They were truly bound. She was so weak and she knew if he hadn't been holding her so tightly, she would have crumpled to her knees. He sensed her distress and sent a wave of magic through her, strengthening her and holding her up. The images ceased and calmness overcame her.

His eyes darkened to the color of polished onyx as he chanted, "Annal nathrach oolthvas bethod dochyel dyenve. Annal nathrach oolthvas bethod dochyel dyenve," over and over again. He'd been chanting softly since their bond had been complete and she'd been so overwhelmed by what was happening to her, she hadn't even noticed. The fog billowing from the cauldron now swirled around her and moved outward like a creeping mass and she fought to draw air into her starving lungs.

X*X*X*X*X

Snow pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off some of the pressure behind her eyes, a headache that was a direct result of her fiancé's pacing and theatrics.

"The moon's been at its zenith for over an hour! I want to know when we're going to be able to attack," The prince seethed, stopping before Snow to rub at her shoulders. His tone gentled as he said, "Perhaps I was wrong in trusting Rumpelstiltskin."

Snow rested her hand over his. "I don't think so. Anything could have happened. We just need to be patient."

Red charged into the tent, quickly shaking off the lycan curse and rising to her feet before them. "A mist is rising and it's unlike anything I've ever seen."

"A mist?" Lancelot asked, suspicion coloring his deep voice as he moved to the entrance of the tent to peer out at the battlefield beyond. In the distance, the fires of the enemy camp could barely be seen in the encroaching fog. The Charmings pushed past him, surveying the scene. The haze covered the entire battlefield now and seemed to be rising. The many tents were nearly obscured from their vision as it grew thicker and the voices of their men seemed to be growing louder in their panic.

Snow gripped her bow in a tight fist, laying her other gloved hand on Charming's arm. "Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

Red rolled her eyes at the prince and raised her face to the night sky, the mist washing over it in a cool caress. "Magic," she breathed. "Dark Magic." She was fighting with her inner wolf as it fought to be unleashed, to indulge in the bloodlust that came part and parcel with her curse. She didn't have the time or inclination to suffer through Charming's lack of wit.

Lancelot breathed in the smog and his mind retreated to the last time he'd fought surrounded by the Dragon's Breath. A lump formed in his throat as he remembered Arthur falling to Mordred's spear and breathing his last breath on the shoreline, fallen knights littered across the sand. Ruby smacked him on the shoulder and he gave himself a mental shake, trying to focus on her in the gloom.

"Hey! You with us?"

"Yeah, Red, I'm good," he said, caressing the hilt of his sword as he felt the bloodlust rise up in him.

"How the hell are we supposed to fight in this?" Charming asked, tightening the scabbard holding his sword about his waist. He was beginning the think the deal he'd made with the Dark One was more trouble than it was worth.

X*X*X*X*X

Regina lounged on the makeshift bed in her tent and popped another slice of apple into her mouth, reveling in the fact that on the morrow the war would be over. It had been nothing to convince the white rabbit to do her bidding, not when she had his son as her guest. Tomorrow Percy would return from Wonderland with the Eye of Osiris and he could have his precious boy back. She didn't care as long as she got what she wanted. Then she'd have her happy ending. The kingdom would be hers, Snow and her insipid prince would be vanquished, and her power would be the ultimate force in the realm. Not even Rumpelstiltskin would be able to rival her.

Her father entered the tent, a slaver held in his hands containing her evening meal, the hatter's daughter trailing behind with a ewer of wine. She smiled wanly at her father as he set the tray down on the small table and pulled out a chair for her to sit. "I'm so tired of this, Daddy. I long for the comfort of the palace," she complained.

"I'm certain you will be returning to it within days, my dear," he replied, retuning her smile. Regina grinned at her ever-faithful servant.

Grace handed the ewer of wine to Henry and asked, "Does this mean I can go home to my papa?"

Regina took a small sip of her wine, scowling at the sub-par bouquet that violated her palate. Apparently King George lacked a sense of taste in his wine as he did in everything else. "I thought I'd invite you to stay with me at the winter palace, my dear," she said silkily, cutting into the rare roast beef on her plate and smiling at the girl. "You will enjoy court life, something your father isn't able to provide for you. A pretty girl such as yourself would be a welcome addition to my home,"

Grace's face fell. "B-But you promised I could go home."

"Grace, dear, your father has been captured by those intent on usurping my throne. I doubt he even still lives," the queen purred.

Grace lowered her gaze and asked Henry if she could be excused, going to her pallet in the corner of the queen's tent that he'd provided for her when she'd gained his permission and burying her face in her pillow, silent tears coursing down her face. She would have rather been banished from the kingdom, from the realm for that matter, than be forced to live with the queen and her sycophants.

Prince Henry refilled Regina's goblet and leaned close so the girl couldn't over hear. "Do you think that wise? What if the girl's father still lives and takes exception to you holding his daughter against her—"

"Thank you, Daddy," she snapped. "That will be all."

Henry sighed and bowed low to her, knowing it would be pointless to continue their conversation.

King George nearly bowled him over as he stormed into the tent in high dudgeon. "What is the meaning of this?" the prince asked, blocking George's view of Regina. "The queen is not to be disturbed."

"Out of my way, you half-wit," he snarled, pushing past the elderly prince. "Regina, a mist is rising. The sentries won't be able to see more than a foot in front of them."

Regina laid down her fork and quirked a brow at the odious king. "If our men can't see through it, there's little chance that we'll be attacked tonight. If we are blinded, our enemies will be as well."

George paced in the small confines of the tent, his noble features twisted into a sneer. "This puts us at a disadvantage. Isn't there something you can do…magically?" he asked.

Regina sipped thoughtfully at her wine before pushing her half-empty plate aside and rising to her feet. "If it concerns you so greatly, I suppose I could dispel the mist," she answered, moving to the entrance of her tent and disappearing through the flap, the king following at her heels. It was only a simple weather charm, beginner's magic she'd learned from Rumpelstiltskin in her first year as his apprentice.

The mist wrapped around her, enveloping her black-clad form in its icy hands and she shivered. An uncomfortable weight settled in her stomach as she tried to see through the mist and she felt something she hadn't experienced in years…fear. Dark magic swirled and pulsed through the anomaly, sending pin pricks of awareness dancing along her skin.

The king stepped to her side and tapped a foot impatiently. "Well, are you going to do it or not, Your Majesty," he snarled, her title sounding like an epithet spoken from his thin lips.

Her mouth twitched into a smirk as she raised her hands before her and prepared to magic away the mist. But when she gestured, nothing happened. The knot in her stomach tightened. She schooled her features, trying not to show the anxiety rising within her. Once more, Regina raised her hands to perform the spell, and again, nothing came of it.

The queen swallowed hard as the fear that coiled so unfamiliarly in her belly settled on her face for all to see as the magic failed to release itself from her spell clever fingers. How could it be that she couldn't access her powers? "It's not working!" she shrieked furiously.

Shouts came from her left, drawing her attention from the growing panic in her breast. George strode forward, trying to see through the haze to pinpoint where the now obvious sounds of battle were coming from. He turned back to her and grabbed her upper arms in a vise-like grip. "Useless woman! What good are you to me without your magic? Go; rally your men to the perimeter. We're under attack!"

X*X*X*X*X

The White forces swarmed over the camp, the enshrouding mist of Dragon's Breath giving them the advantage. Enemy soldiers woken from their rest rushed out to meet them, some not even in full armor to protect themselves. They fell swiftly under blade and arrow, and some to a bloodthirsty wolf the size of a Shetland pony. Screams of agony and cries of despair rent the air as they were cut down one by one. As they lay dying from mortal wounds, they cursed themselves for fools that they had taken up the queen's cause.

Charming and Snow fought side by side, he with his sword and dagger and she with her bow, each protecting the other from danger as they moved deftly to the center of the encampment in search of Regina. The fairies flew overhead, dropping dust on the soldier's that didn't fall under the blade, and rendering them unconscious to be rounded up as prisoners when the battle was complete. A blur of brown fur hurtled past Charming's left shoulder and landed effortlessly atop a knight, its jaws making a sickening crunch as it tore through flesh and bone. Lancelot hacked his way through a grouping of four knights off to their left, leaving nothing but destruction in his path and clearing the way for those that followed until they could reach the tent that housed the queen.

A sudden shout ripped through the chaos from off to the right, "The king has fallen! George is dead!"

The knights that had pledged their allegiance to his army came to a sudden halt, unsure what to do now that their leader had met his demise. The White army sprang to action, cutting down several men before they had a chance to raise their swords once more. Those that managed to fight back didn't last long, and the remaining band of gold-clad knights scattered off into the trees to lick their battle wounds. But the White army had little time to celebrate their small victory, as the queens forces had still yet to back down.

X*X*X*X*X

Regina huddled in her tent with her father and the hatter's daughter, fuming that everything she had worked for was falling to pieces at her booted feet. This was all Rumpelstiltskin's fault! If she somehow survived, she would have her revenge against that twisted imp. That unnatural mist reeked of his dark power. It was his fault that she'd been stripped of her magic and she vowed to make him pay.

"Regina, dear, perhaps if you ask for mercy-"

Her head whipped around to glare at her father where he sat with a comforting arm around Grace's shoulders as the child sobbed in fear, her hands covering her tear-streaked face. "I will NOT ask that insipid girl for mercy! I won't do it. She has done nothing but take everything that's ever meant anything to me and I will not let her win!" she railed, stamping her foot. "I-"

Grace screamed, her high-pitched shrieks permeating the air as soldiers stormed through the tent flap, weapons drawn. Rough hands grabbed for the queen and her father, but it was Lancelot himself that sheathed his sword and took Grace in his arms, whispering soothing nothings in her ear, telling her she was safe now and would see her father with all haste. She wrapped her arms tightly about his neck and sobbed, a smile blooming on her face amidst the tears, the first to grace her angelic face since she'd been taken from her father and brought to the queen's camp.

Regina snarled and spit curses at her captors as she was dragged from the tent, a useless effort as her magic refused to do her bidding. She was brought to stand before the Charmings, manacles glowing with the faint blue light of fairy magic secured about her wrists as Snow said, "Regina, you are under arrest for crimes against the kingdom." She blocked out the rest of her stepdaughter's speech as the white magic weakened her to the point where she slumped against the soldier who held her arms and she had a sneaking suspicion that she would have fallen had the knight not been holding her up.

"A hollow victory," she spat, her voice filled with quiet menace. "You may think you've won, but I will triumph in the end."

Charming raked a frustrated hand through his hair as he witnessed the sorrow in Snow's emerald eyes and nodded to the guards, "Take her away!"

X*X*X*X*X

Belle stared worriedly at her beloved across the cauldron where he stood, his eyes glowing faintly through the mist. The whites were gone, the irises obscured by the pupil. He looked like the demon so many thought him to be. She could feel the shadows ebb and flow within him as he fought the dark power that inhabited his body, trying to maintain his precious control so the Dark One couldn't lay full claim to his consciousness. She kept a firm grip on his arm, their wrists still tightly pressed together as he swayed unsteadily on his feet, the incantation continuing to echo about the room falling in a constant stream from his lips.

"Annal nathrach…oolthvas bethod…dochyel dyenve."

He was weakening and it frightened her. The crystals glowed faintly, pulsing with power at the points of the pentagram. The candles stuttered and the cauldron roiled and still he chanted. How much longer could he go on like this, his power draining and leaving him vulnerable to the dark spirit that dwelled within? The heat of the room was nearly unbearable and not for the first time she felt as though she were truly feeling the breath of the dragon. Sweat rolled down her back and between her breasts and her hair clung wetly to her neck and face, but her discomfort was little in comparison to what he must be experiencing.

The howl of a wolf, their signal to end the spell, three short yips and a long howl rent the air and Belle was finally able to draw a relieved breath. "Rumpel, that's enough. It's done, over. You can stop."

Still he chanted, his eyes not registering that he'd even heard her. She tugged on his hand, trying to gain his attention, but he merely stared back at her through those soulless black eyes and continued on with the spell, his voice flagging. She reached behind her and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the dagger, this time ignoring the threads of power that travelled up her arm. "Rumpelstiltskin, stop," she said, her tone commanding.

The sorcerer's lips ceased their chanting and his head bowed, acknowledging her command and he released his tight grasp on her arm. She pulled it back, noticing the faint finger marks along her pale skin, but was relieved to see her wrist had stopped bleeding. No doubt from the magic of his blood that had been pouring into the wound, she thought. Walking to the edge of the circle, she broke the salt ring with her bare toes and could feel the magic fade from the room as the mist began to dissipate.

Belle glanced over her shoulder at the mage as he stood stock still next to the cauldron, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control over himself and moved to the worktable to retrieve a clean towel. Returning to his side, she lifted his chin and wiped the sweat from his brow, silent in her ministrations to offer him some comfort now that the work was done, the spell cast and victory achieved for the Charmings and their allies. Soon, they would leave here and return home to fulfill the rest of their deal with one another and she couldn't hold back the smile that bloomed on her lips.

His eyes remained closed as she ran the cloth over his face and neck and then used it on herself. "How do you feel?" she asked, studying his face in the dim light of the torches burning along the walls.

Belle startled as his hands shot out to grab her hips and pull her forward into a crushing embrace, his arms trapping her against his chest as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. She moaned softly and relaxed against him as his tongue rasped against the creamy expanse of her throat and suckled gently at the sensitive flesh below her right ear. But fear quickly replaced her mounting desire as a cold voice whispered against the shell of her ear, tingles of dread raising goosebumps along her flesh.

"Hello, precious."

A/N: OK, I know I'm an evil heartless wretch to leave you hanging, but seriously, how'd you like it? I love this chapter sooooo much and I hope you do as well. I would have gotten it out sooner, but the past couple days have been super busy. Hope you can forgive me! I also hope that I did justice to the other characters in their fight to take the kingdom back from George and Regina. I can't tell you how much I hope you all leave a comment to let me know what you think. One more chapter to go, dearies! So hang in there. Then I will be returning to Love Letters to send our lovers on their quest for Baelfire. Thank you all so much for your support and kind words. They mean so much to me. xoxoxxo.

For those who are curious, according to , the spell is written in old Irish and translates into English as "Serpent's breath, charm of death and life, thy omen of making." I did not use the translation on the website, but rather the captions from the movie "Excalibur".

Shout out for my awesome sauce reviewers: AquaJasmine23, mikabronxgirl, RaziOUAT, MyraValhallah, MagdelenaP, crazykat77, 11sCompanion, Techne, sheshe21, and pascaler23. Thank you all so much for your kind words!