It is said that the Dark One can see into the future, that the blackness from which his magic is derived gifted him with the ability to see into the Void and all that which is to be.

This is not necessarily accurate.

Time is not immutable: it is not a prescribed set of events, determined by Fate or some other equally cosmic force. Time is a construct, a product of the mind of Men. If it is anything, it is a set of choices, and the consequences that follow.

To that end, Time is ever in flux, until the choice is made and the path set...until the next choice is made, and the path continues accordingly.

The Dark One cannot see the future. Rather, he can see the threads (as golden as those he spins) created by choices made, and follow them to their conclusion. But once another choice is made on that same thread, the future changes and what was once possible is no more.

And so, the Beast's purported gift is little more than educated guesswork.

In the words of the Dark One himself, "When you can see the future, there is irony everywhere."

— The Book of Fables

"Rumpelstiltskin."

Snow falls upon the back of the Great Wolf; the wind carries her forward. A cursed blade gives the wind's progeny human form. He seeks the Place Out of Place.

"Rumpelstiltskin."

Snow falls on a crimson cloak; it will protect her until it's turned old and frayed; the Great One will find home in its embrace.

"Rumpelstiltskin!"

The Dark One jerked awake. As strange as his dream had been, it was also intriguing. While he knew not what it meant, he did understand two of its individual pieces.

The game was changing, and that meant he still had a chance.

But first, he would attend to the relic in the Dark Palace.

With a thought, Rumpelstiltskin left his home and appeared in the former bedchamber of his once apprentice.

"You must be some kind of desperate to be calling me, Dearie," he said playfully.

"I am," the Mirror replied. "I need you to save Regina."

"Regina is dead, Dearie," Rumpelstiltskin crooned with a flourish of his hand. "The old man rules here now."

And how that stung when he'd first heard of it. Regina was supposed to be it. His ticket to the realm without magic, hist ticket to Baelfire.

And she was dead.

But he had a new ticket now.

"He did not kill her," the Mirror said. "He bespelled her into stasis, and keeps her in the family crypt. He needs her alive for his puppet-Queen to function."

"Interesting. But you have nothing to offer me in return."

"I can give you Belle."

Rumpelstiltskin's gaze hardened, and the playfulness in his voice disappeared. "Belle is dead, killed by the Queen herself, if I remember her boast correctly. I do not take kindly to those who lie to me, Genie."

"Regina didn't kill Belle. She has kept her prisoner. Underfed and dirty, but alive." The Mirror thought for a moment, then spoke again, softly. "She has felt what it is like to lose one's True Love; she is not yet so heartless that she would inflict that pain on another."

"Tell me where she is."

"No."

"Tell me where she is, or I'll smash every mirror in this castle!"

"Belle for Regina. That's the deal, Dark One."

"The girl first."

"And have you whisk her away before you've helped me? No."

Rumpelstiltskin grimaced. "It seems you've finally grown a spine Dearie."

The Mirror smiled darkly in return. "You know who I was, how I came to be what I am, and why I did it. Truthfully, Dark One, I have nothing left to lose."

"Belle for the Queen?"

The Mirror nodded. "Belle for the awakened, sane Queen."

Rumpelstiltskin huffed. Placing one hand on Mirror's surface, he intoned, "The deal is struck."

As he turned away, the imp said, "He will find a way to destroy you for this."

"He will certainly try," the Mirror agreed. "But I was born from a magic even he cannot defy."

With a thought, the once-spinner disappeared and returned with a spelled queen in his arms.

He lay Regina on her bed, pressed two fingers to her forehead and, lacing his voice and touch with magic, spoke:

"Wakey, wakey Dearie."

Her chest began to rise and fall, and her eyes opened.

"Rumpel?" She asked, confused.

He ignored her, turning back to the Mirror.

Gathering up his own magic, the Mirror intoned:"You shall come upon your delicate flower on the topmost floor of the tallest tower."

As he again poofed away and found the woman he was still afraid to admit he loved exactly as described, the Dark One resolved to leave a little surprise behind for the Queen and the Adversary.

While it was true that he disliked liars, it was also true that he did not take kindly to those who took what was his.

As Rumpelstiltskin helped Belle settle back into the Dark Castle, he knew that they would have to talk; he would need to explain properly why he had spurned her advances, why it was vital that he retain his dark powers a littler longer.

But that would come later.

As he left her to her bath, Rumpelstiltskin had only one purpose in mind.

There was a certain dagger he needed to find...and deliver.