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Dealing with madness is very unsettling: sick minds are unpredictable, their logic twisted. It is difficult to plan something — anything, in fact — when a mad person is at large; most intricate schemes would go awry because a madman (a madwoman, in his case) has taken some unexpected action. Even with his vast experience of his own madness he could not know in advance what the Snow Queen was planning — sick soul is always lonely, and labyrinths, into which it descends are unique for each sufferer. So for a while his planning was suspended: he had to wait and see what will happen in town before he could act and do anything to advance his course — his quest of getting himself free from the power of the dagger. He had to linger, to bide his time, and it was frustrating: he longed to act at once, to get it done with, to be free at last and to go on with living his life — loving his wife, building their future.
But, even if not for the unsettling presence of a madwoman pursuing her own weird goals, he was hindered further by the fact that he had to do what he had to do in this town, in this very small world encircled by enchanted wall and containing only so much magic. If he had the hat in his hands when he lived in his own world, his task of filling it with magic would have been achieved in no time — that land was full of all sorts of magical creatures, and they were all at his mercy. Here, in this small town, his choice of victims was limited. He could not do anything to Regina — she was like a daughter to him and anyway he had a distinct feeling that magic, with which the hat was to be filled had to be light magic — to oppose the power of darkness that bound him to the dagger, it had to be so. And, even if he overcame his sentimental affection to the Evil Queen, he was not sure that the amount of light magic that she possessed was enough to render her suitable. Otherwise, there were not such a great number of light magicians at hand; there was the Snow Princess, and there was Emma, and there were fairies... And he could not attack any of them without attracting too much attention. It would not do to blow his case and publicly appear a villain again when all he wanted and needed to do was to gain freedom so as not to be forced to be a villain again — ever.
So he had to wait, and think, and use every chance life gave him to advance his cause. When that foolish pirate delivered himself into his hands, opening himself to blackmail and coercion, he was delighted: it was a pleasure to torture this dashing fellow and it was extremely convenient to have someone apparently open-hearted to do his dirty work for him. He enjoyed their little adventure with the Sorcerer's apprentice — he hated this old man ever since the episode with red-headed chatty girl and failed attempt to steal the hat, and he was glad to add that much (or that little) magic to the hat. He loved every moment of it — the disappearance of the old man, the acute discomfort this whole scene gave Hook. He felt completely justified in using and teasing the pirate: they may have done with trying to kill each other, but he would never forget that this man stole his wife from him — and now was stealing the heart of a woman his son loved.
Yet he felt that these little pleasures and trivial pursuits were driving him away from his main goal, and he felt the urgency of his task growing every second that he stayed in this town, exposed to hidden power of the mysterious Sorcerer; every second that his dagger remained in Belle's hands, poisoning her sweet soul with its' power. She shocked him deeply when she 'controlled' him with the dagger and made him come to the Snow Queen's cave with her; not because she used the dagger again, he already lived through that pain and told himself he could bear it. It was the sight of her agitated face, eyes glaring with madness of power, the sound of her frantic voice, jarring on the edge of screaming as she ordered him around; the despair of her tears afterwards, when the spell of the evil mirror broke and she saw the horror of her actions — these things broke his heart and convinced him that he was right. She had to be saved; she had to be spared the temptation.
She had to be freed from the dagger, as much as he himself.
His task was growing urgent, and he had no way to advance his business. And then, as it sometimes happens, things changed in his favor and the very circumstances that hindered him turned to his advantage. The Snow Queen, following her twisted course, proceeded to awake uncontrollable power in Emma, and there it was — a source of power entirely light and big enough to fill the hat at once; and, moreover, that stupid girl actually asked him to help her get rid of her magic — begged for it, despite his very honest warnings that such a spell might backfire. Right, he was not entirely honest with her; he did not tell her everything. But then, she never asked. She never thought to ask — 'Will this hurt me?' She only cared for safety of people around her, and he could promise her that, no problem.
She was not interested in fine points of the deal; all the worse for her, all the better for him.
He would have had no trouble explaining the tragedy when it would have happened: the spell was too powerful, Emma's magic was too strongly entwined with her physical being, and the woman got destroyed along with her gift. Tragic, tragic thing, but not his fault; he was just a tool, a hesitant but obliging tool; the blame, if there was any blame to speak of, would have fallen on the shoulders of the people who encouraged her to get rid of magic — to become normal: her parents.
Did he feel any qualms at the prospect of destroying the mother of his grandson?
No.
She forgot his son.
She fell into the arms of another man just a few short days after his death. She mocked his memory with every soppy kiss she gave the pirate. His boy, who has driven through different worlds to be with her, who had remained alive inside another body just for a chance to see her again — he was forgotten as soon as his grave closed. She moved on — oh so fast...
He owed her nothing.
She was just a tool for him, an eager and foolish tool, an end to achieve his aim.
His grandson would be much better off without a mother like that — just as Bae was much better off without his mother, who fell for the same pirate... He would bring the boy up, in a much better way than he brought up his father. He and Belle; she would help him. Surely she sees this situation as completely awkward and indecent, just as he does.
Oh no, he had no qualms. And when he learned that, in order for his grand spell to work, he has to crush the heart of the pirate, he was stunned by the beauty of it, by the sublime justice that presented itself in this solution. People who kissed and embraced at his son's grave had to be destroyed together for his task to be completed — wasn't it right and just? Rarely, very rarely did the great symmetry of things present itself with such clarity; rarely did the price of magic manifest itself so clearly.
It was a perfect plan. And, as all best laid out plans, it failed. It failed because of stupid girlish prattle, because little snow princess came to save her little blond friend: Emma didn't face the hat, her magic wasn't absorbed into it — instead, she chose to 'accept herself' and her magic. And, in doing that, these stupid girls finally gave the mad Snow Queen what she wanted — enough power to enact her curse upon the town.
Making his task all the more urgent, for he was running out of time now and had to free himself from the dagger to save his wife and his grandson.
Making his task all the more impossible for the simple solution was denied him.
Brining him back to square one, with nothing gained but the heart of his enemy, torn out of his chest and kept for further use and eventual destruction.
He had to act quickly. He had to think fast. He had to take drastic measures and, with the town's collapse imminent, he knew that he could allow himself some callousness.
The hat had to be filled with magic, and fast. There was nothing left to fill it with but magic of the fairies and, even though it did not feel just as immediately satisfying as destroying his son's unfaithful lover, it was actually probably even more just. His son got lost because of fairies' scheming; they wanted to get rid of the Dark One and they gave his son a magical bean to take them both away to a different world. The boy perished alone, for his father was a coward; and his father was left with a burning wish to redeem himself — and with an undying hatred for the flying pests that started the chain of events. They started it — they stole his son, they left him no choice but to build a curse and create this town. It was more than just that they would have to die for him to leave this town and all his sorry past behind.
Rarely had he felt such pleasure as when, feeling all magic happening in town as he always did, he heard their frightened screams as they were sucked into the hat, held by his obedient puppet, the pirate; as he felt their cursed light disappear from the world and reappear inside a hat — filling it with small dots of light, pin-points of power — small magical stars to mirror great stars on the sky above him, unseen now, for it was daylight still, but present there, behind the clouds, and getting ready to greet him when the time came to enact his final spell — the final act of magic he would perform with his dagger before it becomes a useless piece of old steel.
Avenged at last.
And soon, very soon he would be free at last.
He trembled all over, he could barely contain his excitement as he held his wife in his arms, urging her to hide in his shop as the curse of the Shattered Sight, built by mad Snow Queen, a curse that made people see the worst in their loved ones, raged over the town. He was not even sure she'd get affected by it: she was exposed to the cursed mirror already, after all, and survived the spell — she might be partially or entirely immune to it. Yet he could not take the risk — he didn't want her to suffer again as she'd look at him and see the worst in him and in herself, as she did in the ice cave.
No, he couldn't take that risk.
And he didn't want to have to explain to her his unnatural glee, his great joy, as he'd watch the destruction of this town, this place that he created and where he suffered so much and hoped in vain.
Deep in his heart of hearts he knew that it was darkness in him that gloried in all this pain and horror.
And he needed to be away from the light of his love to live through this awful glory.
So he stood on the pier, with cold sea and darkening sky behind him, stood with his dagger in hand, unconcealed now, for soon there would be no one to notice, and soon this dagger wouldn't matter anymore; stood with his eyes half-closed and his nostrils flaring, absorbing all the pain and fear around him, knowing that every scream and curse are brining him closer to his victory; knowing that, as soon as this storm of magic would pass, leaving a desert on its' wake, he'd be able to liberate himself.
He stood there, breathing in pain and darkness, listening to wailing and tears. And so great was his tormented joy, so great was his anticipation of glory that among this wave of human suffering he failed to distinguish one voice, quietly screaming in pain — one voice that should have mattered to him most of all; the only voice he should have cared about.
He did not hear Her, crying in the locked back-room of his shop, reliving all her pain and humiliation and fears; he did not hear her sobbing as she glanced at all the things they touched over the course of their love, from her chipped cup to the very bed on which they first knew each other, and regret every step she ever took towards him; he did not feel her heart open to darkness of despair and rejection; he did not hear her reproofs; he did not feel how her heart turned over from self-pity toward accusing him — condemning him and cursing him.
He did not feel her summoning him with the dagger, so that she could throw her curses to his face. He did not feel her rage at her failure.
He did not hear her voice among other voices.
He couldn't tell her darkness from all the darkness around him.
He was in the dark as to her feelings and tears.
He was in the dark.
