Toxic Queens and angry beasts

"Isn't that sweet." The venomous voice flitted through the air, and of course, Belle should have known it wouldn't be that easy. The smile fell from her face and she fell back a half step as she turned to find the woman from the road before her, on a large black horse, and backed by an impressive entourage of guards and generally unpleasant people, the latter term referring to Claude and his hatted friend. Seemed they'd sold her out. She regarded the dark woman, surely the Queen Rumplestiltskin had gotten so worked up about, and as discretely as she could started backing away. It wasn't enough to be quiet however, speed and strength were also required, and she couldn't exactly put those to use when a man twice her size had his meaty hands around her arms. She was dragged across the forest floor, her boots making deep furrows in the earth, and as she was dragged she forced her small dagger from her belt. As the giant man pushed her into a rickety cage rigged to be pulled by a man, presumably him, she finally worked her dagger free, and just before her last leg was completely in she stabbed him in the hand, lunging forwards as she had been shoved in backwards with a strength and speed she hadn't known she possessed.

The man released both her and the door to the cage, more in shock than in pain, and Belle took the opportunity to shove the barred door into the man's face and leap out. Her feet found little purchase on the loose leaves of the forest floor, but there was enough to prevent her from falling, or sliding into the reach of one of the many guards. She was able to regain her balance, and immediately used her momentum to make a mad dash past as many of the men as she could. She managed to stay out of the reach (with that speed that had come to her only recently) of all of them until she reached her target; a seemingly abandoned horse, whose back she leaped on. Seemingly abandoned, because only when she was in the saddle and preparing to urge the horse forwards did she see the bearded man by its head, holding the reins. She stared at him, wide eyed for a brief second, certain of her impending doom, when the man released the reins, took a half step back and gave her a small nod.

She waited only a moment longer, then squeezed the horse forwards with her heel. The animal barged straight into the bearded man, who promptly fell to the ground and acted as though to recapture his steed. She kept going, however, and it seemed the Queen had brought horses bred for speed; the creature was racing through the trees, encouraged by the sounds of a chase behind it, and leaped over logs, crushing the brush under-hoof. She had considered going back to find Phillip and Mulan, but felt quite sure that the dark Queen would not hesitate to slaughter both of them before they could so much as blink. This was confirmed as blistering heat formed behind her head, and it was only a brief stumble from her ride into a shallow ditch that stopped her from getting more than a few singed hairs. She wondered why the woman didn't just magic her to stop, or break the horse's legs. Either would work. Perhaps magic's price was just too high.

She shook herself out of it, and tried to figure out which direction they were going in. She didn't really recognise the area but... wait, that signpost said the fairy dust mines were less than ten miles away. How far had she already travelled? How long had they been running? She couldn't tell, but surely that distance would have taken at least a half hour. Was it normal for it to feel like 5 minutes? She glanced back. The group chasing her was much smaller now, and it seemed the dark woman was trying to stop her with magic, but was failing. She blinked turning back, and that signpost said two miles. What was going on? Her throat was burning, her arms felt like they were being clawed to pieces, and her head... oh, she felt so dizzy! She suddenly recalled the cliff she had walked beside the morning before, taking the opportunity to read outside for once. Surely they were near to that now? Would anybody mind if she led the Queen to it, shoved her over the edge to her death?

Belle shook herself again, this time in horror. Never had she wanted to harm somebody before! At least, not somebody other than Gaston, who she more often than not got the urge to slap. The black spots reappeared before her eyes and she slumped, the lack of tension in her legs causing her foot to lose the stirrup on the horse's left side. She released the reins with her left hand to guide her foot back to the stirrup, and it was in that moment her horse skidded to a stop. She, however, kept moving, straight through the air. And down. Very far down. The cliffs, more of a wide rift to be honest, had apparently been formed by an accident with fairy dust, and were very sheer and very sudden. Over time water had collected at the bottom, and now there ran a powerful river between the cliff faces. The sound of it first reached Belle's ears when she passed out, the world going dark and a burning sensation covering every inch of her skin. The river was the last thing she heard, and a very sharpened image of the Queen was the last thing she saw, the colours merging and leaping like an odd kaleidoscope of vibrancy.

Whilst Belle had been traipsing through the mountains, giving advice, saving beasts and generally running for her life, Rumplestiltskin had been moping. If asked he would insist he was fine, and would flamboyantly lead you away from the Great Hall. If you entered said hall, however, you would find the cabinet in pieces, the drapes tattered, the artifacts strewn, and even the infamous wheel splintered. In fact, the only thing in the entire room, and indeed much of the castle, that remained intact was a single porcelain teacup, resting on the standing half of the considerably-smaller-than-it-is-supposed-to-be great table. So he was moping.

Partly he felt betrayed. He had invited a woman into his home, albeit as his Caretaker, and she had torn his trust to shreds. He had given her his secrets, and she had given them to the Queen. He had handed her his heart and she had crushed it in her fist. And she had kissed him, and in that tried to kill him. And therein lay the problem. She hadn't just kissed him; he had kissed her back. He loved her, and she hadn't loved him, had never loved him, and had played him for his power. That wasn't true. The spinner in him knew. That was the worst part. He'd loved her and she'd loved him, and he'd thrown her out like she was worthless garbage, or a stray kitten when it was raining. He had possibly, and quite probably, driven her away forever. And that killed him. She meant more to him than his power. Just not more than his son.

So to keep his mind off the betrayal (by Belle, but mostly by himself to his son) he decided to explore the odd feelings he'd been having. Not emotional feelings, more like physical stirrings. No not like that. More like... like his skin was being peeled away, and replaced with someone else's, like a large part of him was being torn away and handed on. Common sense told him to ignore it, but curiosity told him it would be interesting. So he explored what was going on, and avoided thinking about Belle for a good three days. During this time his arms and face burned, and he smashed things when they got in his way. His magic was also a little off and uncoordinated, and when a woman called him to make a ridiculous deal (in which she asked to be free, never to be caged again - a jar of honey doesn't pay for that, even if they're enchanted bees) he turned her into a bird and not a snail, and threw her in the air. If he had turned her into a snail, he would still have thrown her into the air. It was that thought that helped convince him he was not going soft.

But after those three days his searches began to result in blackouts. He'd get ready to make tea, would search the odd stirrings whilst he was waiting for the water to boil (magic tea tasted like dirt and ogre spit. Which he had, unfortunately, consumed before for sustenance), and would then find himself in the Great Hall with an empty teacup and the lemony taste on his tongue. He was tired of the spots behind his eyes, however, and his less-than-perfect senses, so he decided to figure out what in the seven hells this poison was. So, some five or so days after Belle had left (he had not been counting) he stood in the Great Hall, beside his splintered table, and began to focus. He poured all his magic into it, feeling his skin begin to burn across his entire body, as though a thousand Regina-fingernails were being dragged over him. He blacked out several times, time escaping him, and the dark spots returned to cloud his vision. He had the sudden sensation of falling, and then the world went black.