A/N: This chapter took a lot of work for me to write up. Mostly because I rewrote some of it. I would like to thank orthankg1 for suggesting the idea about Rumpel and the Dark One vault for this chapter. I loved the review and the idea very much.
I also want to thank everyone else that reviewed lately-I appreciate every bit of support.
Old habits die hard. Even harder when they were very old, very nasty habits.
He had to do something. He had to find a way to protect his family. Battening down the hatches and waiting for the storm to come would not work. Zelena had the power to wipe them off the face of this world-he needed to make sure she didn't get the chance.
Lying awake in bed, it was a relentless ache in his chest, a terrible itch that longed to be scratched. Sooner or later, he would give in to the temptation.
He refused to lose another child.
But how would he do it? He no longer possessed magic. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he wouldn't stand a chance against Zelena without it. He didn't want to be weak again; he didn't want to depend on magic to solve his problems. He had sworn to be a better man for Emma and his children.
Last time he had magic, he nearly killed Bae against his will. If Zelena ever found the way to control him, there would be no stopping her. She would force him to place his baby girl in her arms.
It was stupid. Foolish. He shouldn't do it.
But if Zelena came knocking on his door now, what would he do to defend his family? Trap her in a blanket? He would be dead in seconds before he could even order her to stop or make her a deal. If she proved more powerful than Emma, then there would be no hope. Everything he ever loved would be lost.
There was no choice. He had to do it. Emma was too pure of heart to bear the consequences. He needed magic. How, though, when there was no possible way of restoring the power he lost? The Dark One curse was broken.
Then it came to him and he resisted the urge to sit up straight in bed for fear of waking Emma. She was spooning him from behind, her arms wrapped comfortably over his hips and her hands embracing his chest. Her deep breaths were soft and warm on his back.
So he lay back in her arms and savored the euphoria that came with his dawning realization.
The Dark One vault. Did it still exist even when the curse was broken? He hadn't visited it in a century at least. It contained extreme magical power, a well of dark, forbidden magic belonging to a long line of Dark Ones. If there was any way to restore his power, it would stem from that vault.
Of course it would mean breathing new life into the Dark One curse, of which there would be a price...
He would pay it. Him and solely him. This was for the good of his family. At the least, he had to try and fight.
It was decided.
Taking Emma's hands, he gently unfolded her arms from around his chest and started to wiggle his way to the edge of the bed. He only scooted an inch or so before Emma moaned in her sleep and grasped his hips. She tugged him back across the bed, her hands sliding once more over his chest.
In the early days of their marriage, she hadn't been the cuddling type, but gradually she grew sensitive to having him close while she slept. Especially when something troubled her in the waking hours.
This might be trickier than he thought.
Rumpel writhed and squirmed, searching for a loose spot in the tough circle of Emma's arms. The movement only made her hold on tighter, her nails digging into the skin of his chest. Her cheek nuzzled his shoulder. One of these nights, he half-expected her to subconsciously rip out his heart in his sleep.
He tugged away from her embrace. Before she could stir, he replaced a pillow in her arms to cuddle with. It wouldn't be long before she realized the pillow was all wrong-it was too fluffy to be him-but he hoped to make a good escape first.
Rising from the bed, he dressed quickly in a dark pair of leather pants and one of his old, favorite dragonskin cloaks, the scales blood-red. If he was going to submit himself to the Dark One curse again, he may as well dress the part. He bent over the bed to kiss Emma's cheek, praying he would return to her with the news of Zelena's demise. He would have liked to kiss her fully on the lips, in case something should happen to him, but that would surely wake her.
"I love you," he whispered in her ear. With any luck, she would hear it in her dreams.
Then he tread quietly over to the crib on the other side of the room to swear his love to his two girls. Henry had moved into the bedroom directly across from theirs and he knew he would stop in to see the boy before he left. For now, he leaned down to press a kiss to each of his daughters' foreheads. He let Isabelle curl her tiny hand around his finger and didn't mind it when his skin started to feel cold.
"I love you both so very, very much. I consider myself lucky every day to have you and I will do anything to protect you from harm. Papa won't be gone long. I...I promise." He desperately hoped it was a promise he could keep. He kissed them both once more to seal that promise.
"And where exactly is Papa going so late at night?"
Emma's voice floated to his ears from the bed, too strong to be spoken in her sleep. Startled, he spun away from the crib to see her sitting up in bed, staring at him with those hard green jewels. He wriggled his fingers nervously, wracking his brain for a reasonable explanation.
Would she ever understand? Or would she say it was a death wish? She had lost so much already.
"I'm...going to fix myself a nice, hot cup of tea. Having trouble sleeping." It was a horrible excuse and he knew it. Emma tossed back the covers and stood to confront him face-to-face. He struggled not to back away when she came within an inch of his face, her eyes scouring his for the truth.
"So you got up, got dressed in your leather pants, said a heartfelt goodbye to your children, just to fix yourself a cup of tea?" Well, when you put it that way...
"Emma, sweetheart, it's a long walk to the kitchen. There's no telling what will happen to me on the way-or who will see me without pants."
Emma slapped him hard across the jaw. The sound rebounded through the room and there was already an angry red mark on Rumpel's face.
"Emma!" Did he perhaps take it one step too far with that excuse? His protests were instantly silenced when she jabbed a finger in his face. Unlike his finger, that one was dangerous for more than physical reasons.
"Don't you dare lie to me! Not after everything that's happened lately. Try the truth," she demanded. Rumpel rubbed his aching jaw and knew it was pointless to keep pretending. If anything, it might earn him a fireball to the face. He had to tell her the truth and hope she understood.
"There is a vault that belongs to the Dark Ones. Perhaps...I can regain my power," he explained cautiously. He avoided telling her exactly where it was. Only Dark Ones were supposed to know of its existence or risk placing untold power in the hands of an outsider.
Emma narrowed her eyes.
"So you can kill Zelena," she filled in the rest by herself. He did not verbally agree to it, but he didn't deny it either. "You lectured me about using my magic for good when you're getting ready to do the same? Without running it by me first?" He held up his hands to caution her. Also to guard his face from any other incoming attacks.
"What other choice do I have?" It was hard to keep his voice from rising, even with the children sleeping in the crib. "Without my power, I am weak. There is nothing I can do to protect those I love. Zelena will steamroll over me. I need to do this."
Emma's anger softened, just a bit. Enough for her to close the gap between their bodies and run his hands down his face.
"Stop," she pleaded, her forehead meeting his. "Remember what happened last time? Regina controlled you by your dagger. She forced you to throw your son from the clock tower with the intention of killing him. Remember this?"
Emma stroked the long scar on his cheek. He wore it with pride, for being able to resist the dagger's control and stand against Regina in the name of his family. He didn't let himself linger too long on that memory.
When Emma saw him continue to resist, she sighed.
"What do you think Zelena will do if she ever gets her hands on the dagger? You'll be her personal puppet. I don't want to go through with that again. I don't want to lose you, too."
It wasn't on his To-Do list, either. It wasn't pleasant to have your mind and body betray you due to a command someone else made. Rumpel reached up to clasp Emma's wrists, bringing her hands away from his face.
"She won't get the dagger." He would bury it in the ocean if he had to. "She won't even be given the chance to learn it exists."
"You told me you couldn't kill her the day you pushed her away. That was before the curse was cast. Is it worth the risk now?" He could feel himself starting to yield to her words. His eyes rolled to the ceiling as he tried to remain confident in his choice. "At least let me help you. We can do this together."
The thought of creating magic with Emma was more exciting than it should have been. It was fascinating, delightful, arousing. The thought of joining their magic for this one cause, of succumbing to the ecstasy of their power, of being able to reach new and glorious heights alongside his wife...it stole his breath away and made those leather pants a wee bit tighter than usual.
In the end, he had to shake off that delicious daydream.
"No. I will not drag you down into the darkness with me. There will be a price to pay when this is said and done. You shouldn't be the one to pay it."
"Neither should you. Not alone," she insisted. Her wrists broke free of his grip and her hands spread apart the stiff folds of his cloak. With his chest now exposed, Emma lowered her head to kiss the spot over his beating heart. He trembled with pleasure, even more when her fingers found the laces on his leather pants. "Stay with me?"
He allowed her to undo his laces and peel the leather pants from his legs. Then she took ahold of his hands and led him back to the bed. She said something about discussing his plan in depth tomorrow, together, but he couldn't hear it over the rush of blood in his ears.
The rest of his resistance faded when they fell atop the bed, curled in each other's arms. His lips pressed kisses to the tender hollow of her throat and then slid along the curve of her neck to her ear. For one sweet moment, he sucked and nipped on the lobe of her ear and devoured her moans. Her hands clawed across the clothing on his back.
"Stay..." She begged him, holding him close. "Please...?" He smiled into her skin. He loved that word.
"Always."
...
The love they made together that night was the most passionate Emma could remember. Both of them fought greedily for dominance, rolling endlessly across the sheets. Whenever one was on the verge of winning, the other would simply try harder.
She even dared to use her magic to make him feel things he never felt before during their lovemaking, driving him wild with heat that would not cool as well as a few...enhancements. When she asked him if she was putting her magic to good use, all she earned from him was a string of satisfied groans and his hands twisting the sheets.
Finally they managed to wear each other out and fell together into sleep. In his arms, the nightmares came less often. It was comforting to bury her head in his chest or in his back, to inhale his scent and to feel his heart beating under her palms.
When Emma awoke sometime during the early hours of the morning, not quite dawn, she found the side of his bed empty again.
...
The vault of the Dark One was located not far from his Dark Castle, but far enough in the snow-covered forest to avoid detection by casual hikers, hunters, or thieves. It always snowed near the vault, no matter the season. He thought it had something to do with the forbidden nature of the Dark One curse, bringing darkness and devastation to everything it touched.
It took him nearly an hour to reach it. It would have taken him less time if he didn't almost turn back on several occasions. He felt guilty for leaving Emma's side, but this was for the best in the long run. Zelena could not be allowed to live and torment his family out of extreme jealousy.
Rumpel sank to his knees in front of the layer of stone set in the cold ground that constituted as the entrance to the vault. He didn't care for the mound of snow under his knees-his legs were nearly numb from the chill in the air, anyway. His hands scraped the frost and ice away from the vault.
This was it. If he did this, there would be no turning back. No room for regrets.
I want this, he thought determinedly, pressing his hands over the entrance to the vault. That sinister power was already brimming under his fingertips. He closed his eyes and opened his mind to the seductive energy surrounding the vault. I need this, more than anything. I will pay any price...if you'll only help me protect what is mine.
The curse fed off wickedness, fury, despair, envy, and every other dark desire of one's heart. The air thickened around him, until it almost choked him. His hands were glued to the vault. He couldn't move them now even if he wanted to. A warm sensation began tickling the tips of his fingers, becoming scorching hot by the time it reached his palms. Still he was helpless to move away. He gritted his teeth and bore it as best he could.
An equally frozen sensation seeped into his bones, gnawing on his muscles and swallowing his heart. That must be the Dark One curse coming to life again, invading his body and subsequently taking what it wanted. The cold drifted downward, pooling between his legs. The most unimaginable pain shot through his thighs and abdomen and made him howl.
Gods, was the curse making him a...a...eunuch? There must be a price to pay...but what was it?
Finally the dark energy released him from the vault. His hands soared away from it and he tumbled backwards through the snow, limbs spread wide like he was about to make a snow angel. Something silver emerged from the vault, spiraled into the air, and buried itself to the hilt in the earth between his legs. Dread coursed through his veins, making his heart pound as he pulled that silver object from the ground.
He already knew what it was and seeing it up close in his fist only confirmed his fears.
The dagger.
The ancient dagger with the rippled blade crusted with flecks of dried blood, binding the power of the current Dark One. Rumpel hesitated in turning over the blade, to see what he had done. Slowly, he turned over the blade and dared to look. There, engraved in the silver, was his name.
Rumpelstiltskin.
It seemed there must always be a Dark One in this land. There must always be someone willing to condemn himself to the most unholy of darkness so that everyone else could bask freely in the light.
...
Jefferson couldn't sleep.
He never got much sleep since losing his first wife and having to raise Grace alone. He had always been afraid that something would happen to his little girl if he took his eyes off her for an instant, even to doze. Then there was his imprisonment in Wonderland, the curse, and everything else that took place in Storybrooke to keep him awake at night.
The most he ever got were two or three hours of sleep, even now with Belle's comfort.
After returning to the Enchanted Forest, the Charmings had been generous enough to give him Regina's old castle. They had a castle of their own by the water, Emma lived with Rumpel in the Dark Castle, and Bae insisted on living a simple life in his father's old village with his mermaid girlfriend. So he was allowed to take it and live there comfortably with Grace and Belle.
The castle was beautiful, no doubt about it, but too big for Jefferson's taste. After living so many years in a small hovel with his daughter, the high-vaulted ceilings and breathing room would take some getting used to. The rooms were enormous, capable of fitting hundreds of people, the halls were too empty, and there were too many places he could lose Grace.
The bed was nice, though. A massive bed, higher than any he had ever seen before, with scarlet covers and the softest mattress his back had ever had the luck to lay upon. He now shared it with Belle, who was slowly but surely working to improve his paranoia and sleeping problems. The first night Jefferson slept in that bed with her, he fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.
The higher class were too spoiled for their own good, never knowing modesty if it bit them on the rear end. All except for Emma, whose hard life molded her into being too modest to accept a slice of pumpkin pie, never mind the title of royalty and all that came with it. And of course there was Belle, who was more selfless than selfish.
It might be his imagination, but the castle was haunted by Regina's upset spirit at night. The stone was blacker than ever, the shadows crawled over everything, and the fire offered little warmth to chase away the draftiness. And before Jefferson moved into the Queen's former castle, he never realized just how much Regina appreciated mirrors. There were mirrors in every room-bedrooms, hallways, closets, kitchen, even the bathrooms.
There was an entire hall dedicated to thousands of mirrors, of all sizes and decoration, which Jefferson found disturbing. He took down every single one, being careful not to smash any glass in case he earned a century of bad luck. Not only was he paranoid about spies using the mirrors, but he figured he would spook himself if he woke for a late-night snack and his reflection bounced from mirror to mirror on the way.
Jefferson was in the mood for a late-night snack now. Maybe it would help him get back to sleep.
In the kitchen, there was some of Belle's chocolate creme pie left over, with extra cream just the way he liked it. He eagerly uncovered the pie and swiped his finger through the puff of whipped cream on top, popping the finger in his mouth to enjoy the sweetness. Mmm...just what I need...
Lost in sugary bliss, it took Jefferson a moment to notice the subtle creak of a footfall behind him. Someone was here, in the castle. By the sound of it, they were struggling to hide their footsteps. Unfortunately for the intruder, Jefferson's long-term paranoia meant he was accustomed to straining his hearing for the slightest shift in his environment.
He dipped his finger again, as if going for another streak of cream. Instead, he grabbed up the knife that was still wedged into the pie. Jefferson spun around, but the knife flew out of his hand, clattering somewhere in the shadows.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, dearie. Where are your manners?" That devilish imp was talking about more than the knife. His eyes dropped to Jefferson's hand, his fingers coated in cream. Amber eyes, snake-like, glinting with madness...
"What are you doing here? And what happened to your face?"
Rumpel frowned and traced a hand over his jaw. His skin had returned to the sickly, scaly complexion he had as the Dark One, while his hands sprouted grisly black nails. He didn't...he wouldn't...On the heels of that thought: he would. If he was desperate enough.
"I got a makeover. What do you think?"
The biting sarcasm stung Jefferson worse than if the imp actually hit him. It was a far cry from the reasonable yet troubled man he spoke with earlier that day. Rumpel glided to his side and helped himself to a finger of cream. Jefferson noticed that both Rumpel's legs were sturdy and strong.
Who needs a cane when you have magic to solve all your problems?
"Where is Belle?" Rumpel inquired. In this state of mind, Jefferson wouldn't let the imp anywhere near Belle. It was obvious that he had magic again. How he accomplished such a feat, Jefferson didn't want to know. It would devastate Belle to know the man she once loved and fought for had relapsed this way. And what about Emma?
"She's sleeping," Jefferson barked. If Rumpel noticed the tension, nothing in his golden-gray face betrayed it. "If you wish to see her, you can come back tomorrow-"
Rumpel waved his hand impatiently. A few drops of cream flew off his nails and splattered on Jefferson's cheek.
"I'm not here for her, though I'm grateful for the invitation." Even the way Rumpel spoke now reminded Jefferson of that dark being from long ago. His R's rolled off his tongue in a thick, throaty purr, and his laugh was shrill and hollow. "No need to wake our sleeping beauty."
As he said it, Rumpel's hand gave a small wave off to the side. Magic pulsed through the air, making the hairs on the back of Jefferson's neck stand on end. He had the fleeting urge to check on Belle, but he didn't feel right in turning his back on Rumpel when he was acting like this. He doubted Rumpel would ever harm Belle deliberately, but he seemed drunk with power. It was the euphoria of having magic pumping through his veins again.
"Your sleeping beauty is at your castle. Probably debating which side of your face to punch when you get home," Jefferson argued.
"Whoops, too late," Rumpel shrieked, motioning once more to his jaw. Jefferson didn't know what he was supposed to be seeing. If Emma did hit Rumpel already, the Dark One curse most likely healed it.
Another high-pitched giggle fell from his mouth, wiggling its way into Jefferson's ears. He was starting to remember why he never stayed for tea back when he worked for Rumpel. That laugh.
"You never answered my question. Why are you here? And don't say it's because of the dessert-give me that!" Jefferson snatched up the remains of the pie and held it out of Rumpel's reach. The imp pouted. As far as Jefferson was concerned, Rumpel didn't deserve any pie tonight.
"I need your hat," Rumpel said. He held out his hand as if expecting Jefferson to give it up then and there. Not this again, Jefferson inwardly groaned. Did Rumpel ever learn when to quit? "It's a much quieter form of travel than tornado. Come on now, I don't have all night."
"We already had this conversation-"
He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Rumpel waved his hand again and Jefferson flew off his feet, slamming backward into a wall. The back of his head collided hard with the wall, inflicting him with black dots in his vision. He had no idea what happened to the pie. His head swam, battling for consciousness. His vision grew hazier by the second when Rumpel knelt by his side, the pie in his hands.
"It wasn't a question," Rumpel lilted. Jefferson lost consciousness just as Rumpel sucked some more of the delicious cream off his finger. He never budged an inch as Rumpel used the last bit of pie to paint a frothy smile on Jefferson's face.
...
Her Papa didn't know it, but Grace sometimes woke up during the night. She thought it was because of the discomfort of having two sets of memories in her head after the curse. Plus, there was the trauma of being separated from her father for so long. On those nights, Grace would sneak to the kitchen for a quick snack. It was nice to find some of Belle's dessert waiting for her.
Something else was waiting in the kitchen for her tonight. Not something good, either.
"Papa!" She called out timidly. He was lying on his side on the floor, his face covered in pie, and his eyes weren't open. It looked like he was sleeping, but Grace was too afraid to check in case he wasn't. The empty pie container and his magic hat sat near his head.
Grace was frozen in place, frightened, convinced she was on the verge of witnessing something terrible happen to her father again. She did the only helpful thing she could think of-she ran to get Belle. She was the most clever woman Grace had ever known. Belle would know what to do.
"Belle! Belle?" Grace dashed into the bedroom that Belle and her father shared.
Belle was lying on her stomach, her head turned away from Grace and pressed into the pillow. One arm was stretched over the mattress as though reaching for something. Or someone. Grace gently prodded her shoulder, but Belle didn't respond.
What if her parents were placed under a curse where they couldn't wake up? A sleeping curse, that was what it was called. Henry had fallen under a sleeping curse once, same as his grandmother, and it sounded absolutely horrifying. Grace only knew of one way to possibly wake Belle, then.
"Mama, please! Please wake up! I need you!" It was the first time Grace had ever really called Belle Mama. She had liked Belle a lot before the wedding-her father made sure of it. Most of all, she wanted her father to be happy again. She was just hesitant to give that title to Belle since she never really knew her first mother.
Now Grace leaned over the side of the bed and gave Belle a kiss on the cheek.
This time, there was a low moan, muffled by the pillow. Belle began to move, rolling over onto her back and blinking her eyelids, ever so slowly as if finally coming out of a deep slumber.
"Grace? Sweetheart, what is it?" Belle sat up and held out her hand to Grace, beckoning her closer to the bed. Instead Grace grabbed her hand and started to pull her out of the bed, encouraging Belle to move quickly.
"It's Papa! I don't know what's wrong with him! I found him on the floor in the kitchen and he has pie on his face and he's not waking up..." Grace stopped to catch her breath. Hot tears began to blur her vision. She couldn't go through this again; she couldn't lose her father a second time.
Belle pulled Grace against her body , brushing back her hair and soothing her with words of comfort. It'll be alright, calm down, together we'll help your father. The difference between Belle and other people was that Belle sounded like she meant every promise she made.
With Grace leading the way, they rushed to the kitchen to find Jefferson in the same spot that Grace left him. Belle knelt beside his limp body and instinctively dipped her head low to listen to his pattern of breathing. She placed two fingers under his nose and sighed. Grace hoped it was the good kind of sigh.
"Get the ice bucket, sweetie," Belle requested.
"Again?" Grace wondered aloud, but went to fetch it anyway. Together Belle and Grace dumped a large bucket of ice water over Jefferson's head. He bolted awake fast, sputtering as water filled his mouth and nose. His eyes rolled all over the place before settling on the empty container of pie.
"Where's the pie?" Jefferson asked frantically. He picked up the container and turned it over, as though the pie were invisible and might plop to the floor. Grace couldn't help but laugh. She was just glad her Papa was awake and alright.
"Currently? Melting off your face," Belle told him with a snicker. The cream and fudge dissolved with the water, leaving behind thin streaks on his cheeks. Jefferson's eyes widened in panic as he looked from Belle to his daughter. Then he looked past their shoulders, as if he expected someone to be standing in the shadows.
"Where is he?"
Belle turned around, but there was no one there. She frowned in confusion.
"Who?" She placed a hand on Jefferson's shoulder to calm him, but he was far too tense.
"Who else in the Enchanted Forest has this maniacal sense of humor?" Jefferson pointed to his face, previously decorated with a creamy smiley-face. Belle became grim, her frown deepening. There was only one person she could think of that would do something like that to Jefferson and also spare her and Grace the same humiliation.
"Rumpelstiltskin."
She was going to compose an extremely long, extremely angry letter to him at once. The verbal whiplashing she would give him would be so astonishing that he wouldn't be able to hold his chin high for a solid week. Her frustration only grew when she noticed Jefferson's hat on the floor, brim up. What has he done now?
"Where has he gone?" Belle voiced her concern aloud to Jefferson. There would be no other reason for Jefferson's hat than to transport to one of the other magical realms. She carefully retrieved his hat from the floor and he stared at it with fresh disdain.
"To kill the Wicked Witch." Make that two weeks, Belle thought and helped her husband get up from the floor.
...
It was never fun landing in Oz, even by hat.
Someone thought it funny to put the portal in the sky. You walked through the magical emerald door inside the hat and the only thing to greet you was open air before you fell flat on your face. That meant Rumpel had to remember to spawn himself a parachute or a soft mattress to land on.
How did Jefferson do it?
The first time Rumpel visited Oz with Jefferson, a few years before the curse was cast, he landed in that patch of overly-emotional trees that punch anyone for stealing their precious apples. Being able to see the future, Rumpel lost any taste for apples rather quickly, but apparently he offended the trees of Oz by landing right on top of their branches. How inconsiderate of him to grab a branch on the way down from the sky.
The trees punched him so hard that he soared all the way to the gates of the Emerald City. He was spitting blood for a week.
This time, Rumpel landed in a pile of hay of his own creation and he followed the Yellow Brick Road. What was it about that winding golden road that made him want to skip his way there?
When he ultimately reached the Emerald City, he realized it was more desolate than he remembered. Too quiet, too empty. No celebrations, no crowd of little green people swarming the road. It was rather easy finding Zelena in the old wizard's chamber. All he had to do was follow the eerie sound of huffing, angry cursing, and rude complaints.
He found her in the center of the room hunched over a looking glass embedded in the floor. That must have been how she spied on him for so long. It took great power to spy on people across realms through mirrors. Her red curls practically writhed with fury, clashing horribly with her bright green skin.
He couldn't resist strolling up the hall like he owned the place, giggling and drunken with his rediscovered power.
"Looks like someone's having a bad hair day. You'll have to tell me what that's like," he quipped, pointing one sharp nail to her frizzled hair. He patted down his own locks to make sure every one was in proper place. Zelena gasped loudly and whirled around like something bit her. When she saw him, her eyes flew open wide.
Was she not expecting him so soon? Or was there some pie left on his face?
"You," she hissed. After a moment's contemplation, her hand unfurled and a flame burst to life in her palm. Was that truly her best move? Surely he taught her better.
"Now, dearie, is that any way to treat your guest? Here I thought I would be welcomed with tea time and your special crumb cake. Two old friends chatting about the weather, our ex's, and, oh yes, how you wished to steal my child."
With every word he spoke, he took a step forward. His voice strained with the revulsion and rage burning in his chest. There were no traces of humor on his face, nor pity. He showed no fear of the fireball in her hand-if she threw it, it would give him the excuse he needed to send two her way.
"You're here now. I can finish what I started," she declared and lifted that fireball above her head, preparing to launch it.
Rumpel instinctively stepped aside and conjured a bucket of water over her head. With a circular motion of his finger, the bucket flipped and the water rained down over Zelena, soaking her to the bone. The flame in her hand sizzled out.
Something unusual happened to Zelena's face. The green skin bubbled and melted off like wet makeup. Emerald drops fell on the floor, followed by thick strips of what he only knew was her face. The cloak she wore began to fold, her body sinking in on itself. A thick black puddle formed over the looking glass. A bloodcurdling scream tore from her throat while her ugly form was reduced to black tar.
Soon she was nothing more than a stain on the ground, her miserable soul released from its human shell. Only her cloak and those silver slippers remained.
"Well, that was easy," Rumpel stated with a loose shrug. Or perhaps he was simply that good with magic. Yes, that must be it. He had never seen someone melt before-or survive such a gruesome fate.
Gleefully, he strode to that puddle of darkness and picked up the silver slippers. Those sparkling beauties were his ticket home. They weren't his size, but he would make them work somehow. It was better than flying around inside a tornado.
Good riddance, he thought, wiping his boot over the ground to rid the bottom of Zelena smudges. Sporting the shoes proudly, he clicked his heels and returned home to his family.
...
For the record, no, Belle was not under a sleeping curse. Rumpel put her under a temporary deep sleep so she wouldn't wake up to find him there. I mostly wanted to show a nice moment between Grace and Belle and what their relationship is like.
I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. (-;