Chapter Seventeen—"New Beginnings"

"It will be over soon."

A gentle hand stroked Rumplestiltskin's cheek while he hung shuddering against the wall, blindfolded and flinching from every touch. His entire body burned, open wounds on his back scraping against rough stone, and the coward in him wanted to give in so badly. Would it be so horrible to be what he had been? To again possess all that power, the ability to protect himself and those he loved—

Except she had the dagger. What if she put the curse back in him and did not stop? He wouldn't be able to fight her, and while the fae held the dagger, he'd be nothing better than her slave. His family wouldn't be safe, even from him. Especially from him. Better to fight, terrified though he was.

The man in his memories admired Danns, Rumplestiltskin knew, shaking himself free of the memory. He had a vivid memory of standing between Danns' a'Bhàisand Reul Ghorm on a hill side, three powers united against an onrushing force no one of them could have stopped alone. He remembered fighting with both of them, united in their need to hold their world together against even the greatest of odds. They lost friends and stood strong, together, long before the sisters' differences sparked war between them, and then Merlin found himself the only force keeping them from tearing the world apart.

He remembered Danns under other circumstances, too, and realized that Merlin had been no great paragon of virtue. Merlin had not been particularly adept at fidelity, though he'd finally tried in his last days, spurning the queen of all fae for the half-human woman he had come to love. A distant part of Rumplestiltskin's mind tripped over that realization. Hadn't that been how one of the Land Without Magic's tales of Beauty and the Beast started? With the future beast spurning an evil fairy, and then being transformed for his refusal of her? Odd how things ran in circles. But he'd still cared for the woman who trapped him, still stared at her in shock and betrayal when she had fastened slender bands of bronze around his wrists, ankles, and neck, blocking his magic and binding him against a wall just as Rumplestiltskin had once found himself.

"Why?" he whispered brokenly.

"I am sorry, old friend." She looked regretful but resolute, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss against his lips. "But you balance us, my sister and I, and I would not have balance. I would have victory."

"You could have asked." The words tore out of him.

Danns' smile was sad. "You would always choose humanity, Merlin. You have always been so very human, despite your origins." She stroked his right cheek, long fingers brushing tangled hair out of his eyes. "But now you will be with me always, and your power will mine to command."

"Danns—"

"Hush." Her hand shifted to rest over his mouth, and he stared at her helplessly. "You made your choice, Merlin, and I have made mine."

He had said as much to Reul Ghorm not so very minutes ago, when she had told him to choose a side. I already have. The words had come from somewhere deep inside him, something Rumplestiltskin-but-not, a place driven by memories not entirely his own—and from his own burning hatred of being used. For three hundred years, he had fought his own curse's desire to warp him to its purposes, sometimes succeeding and sometimes failing miserably, but always because a terrified spinner had taken on the world's oldest and darkest curse out of love. And he'd never been willing to forgo the love of his son, no matter what dark promises the curse whispered in his mind. When he had lost Bae, that love only burned stronger...and he had met Belle, and had learned, really learned, that someone else could love him back.

No, he hadn't ever let the curse rule him the way it had ruled some of his predecessors, always twisting it to fit his ends and not once allowing someone else to come into possession of the dagger that could rule his soul. Rumplestiltskin would be no different now, and he'd be no fairy's slave, no matter what the circumstances.

That left him only one path to choose, and he'd already made his choice.

Magic tingled in his fingers, traveling like electricity up his spine. He'd sat quietly through the discussion concerning Henry, his mind whirling with power and memories. Knowledge flitted through his brain, elusive and hard to pin down; what he needed to know was there, but pulling it forward into his conscious mind was hard. Yet because he'd always been good at reading people, Reul Ghorm's suddenly wary glances his way told him that she feared him. Feared what he might do or be with his curse broken. Words spoken a millennia and a half earlier echoed in his mind.

No, she didn't want a third player in this game, either. Reul Ghorm wanted to be humanity's only hope. She wouldn't tolerate another Original Power mucking that up.

"So, now that everyone else is gone, will you tell Belle and I what's going on, Papa?" Bae asked with a crooked little smile, interrupting his thoughts.

Belle had shooed Regina and the Charmings out after Rumplestiltskin finished the magic to protect Henry. Vaguely, Rumplestiltskin had heard when his son told Emma and Henry that he'd catch up with them shortly, but first wanted to make sure his idiot father was all right. Of course, he knew that his son really wanted answers, but his boy was brilliant enough to know that he'd never open up with the Charmings around. Family they might have been through Henry, but Rumplestiltskin still preferred to keep his cards close.

"Why do you fight me, Merlin?" Danns asked quietly, her hands on his—Merlin's!—face again. "You know I need your help. Without it, my sister will…"

"You're not looking for help," the man who had held out for far longer than Rumplestiltskin would ever have managed to said thickly, his voice rough with years' worth of pain. He was cracking and shaking under the pressure of decades like this. Thirty years, Rumplestiltskin knew. It took her thirty years to shape her darkest servant. "You want to make me into your slave."

"Then help me instead."

"Give you my soul, you mean," Merlin whispered weakly, and Rumplestiltskin knew the power racing through him, could feel it tearing into an already battered soul. He spoke defiantly, but there were too many fissures in once-strong defenses. Thirty years after his best friend had betrayed him, Merlin no longer remembered what he was fighting for. Her hands were wet with his tears.

She looked at him sadly, but the vortex of power surrounding him never faltered, its tendrils digging into him, shredding his core, his heart, his soul.

"I already have it," the Black Fairy replied, her hand slipping around to the back of his neck and squeezing hard.

Merlin cried out, and Rumplestiltskin felt him try to fight one last desperate time. The effort was doomed and he knew it, but he had to try. The vortex thickened, a whirlwind of darkness and power and ownership. The demon hovered just inches away from Merlin's chest, already slaved to the Black Fairy's will and waiting for the sorcerer to crumble. He was screaming now, helpless and weak, trying to breathe through the pressure. He felt every crack that opened up in his soul as they spread outwards like a spider web of wounds. Each new crack built upon the last. There was no soul ever born that could withstand the weight of three decades of pressure pushing down upon him like that.

And yet—moments before Merlin's final resistance collapsed, Rumplestiltskin felt him box something off, push some doorway to his power aside into an area even Merlin could no longer reach. He locked something away—a key to the extraordinary powers he had been born with—and as the demon plunged into him it was Merlin who tied his power to the resulting curse.

"Rumple?"

Jerking back, Rumplestiltskin tore out of the blank-faced fog he'd been dragged into. The lingering memory of that darkness washed over him for several long moments, and he had to look down at his shaking hands to make sure they'd not gone gold and scaly again.

"Sorry," he whispered thickly, blinking hard. He had to stop doing this, had to get control of these memories and these powers. Yet—maybe he had.

The Blue Fairy's explanation had been largely redundant, at least as far as he was concerned. Oh, it gave Rumplestiltskin a framework to pin the memories to, but everything had fallen into place at Hubert's castle. There, he had suddenly realized where those memories came from, and instinct had told him that the power he'd gained had been somehow hidden by the curse that carried it along as an unintentional passenger. Danns' a'Bhàis had only meant to allow the darkness to follow the curse; she had meant for the rest of the power to die with Merlin. It had become useless; the original Dark One had been unable to access it, anyway. By the time her work had been done, Merlin had been nothing save a broken shadow of his former self, full to the brim with rage and pain that he burned to take out on the world. The demon inside him only pushed him further, and he had become the terrors from which nightmares were born.

But Merlin had made sure the power carried on. Merlin, not the Dark One, had known that someday his magic would be needed. And didn't that thought make a high-pitched giggle well up inside Rumplestiltskin, curse broken or not? The irony abounded: he was in possession of Merlin's powers. The poor spinner turned evil creature had inherited the mantle of the sorcerer made legendary for his attempts to protect humanity from the worst the world had to offer.

Damn it all. Everything made sense.

Belle squeezed his arm, and Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath, looking up from his hands to meet his son's eyes. "I'm sorry, Bae," he repeated. "I was…a little distracted."

"By what?"

"Ever since my curse broke, I've been seeing memories." He gestured vaguely at his head, wiggling his fingers absently as he tried to figure out how to frame this. Good with words though he was, how could he explain having the vestiges of someone else's soul rattling around in his mind?

"Seeing memories?" Bae was good with words, too, and certainly caught the odd phrasing.

"Not of my own," Rumplestiltskin answered. "It's as if the curse breaking unlocked something. I've always been able to catch glimpses of my predecessors, memories of previous Dark Ones carried along by the curse, but these are new. Eventually, I realized that they predated the curse itself. And I now know where they come from."

Belle spoke softly, a warm and reassuring presence by his side. She really was his anchor, and he wasn't surprised to see a tattered book in her hand. "From the same place the magic comes from."

Surprised, Rumplestiltskin turned to look at her, and the corner of Belle's mouth turned up in a pleased smile.

"I found a book," she explained, gesturing to the thin volume cradled in her lap. "About the history of magic. It talks about Original Powers."

"And you know."

Belle looked into his eyes, and no matter how hard he searched, Rumplestiltskin could not see any change in the way she viewed him, even knowing what he now was. It wasn't just power he had. Just as the curse had turned him into the Dark One, this power changed him, too. Belle spoke firmly: "And I know."

Relief washed through him. Part of him was ashamed to admit that he'd been afraid this might chase her away, but Rumplestiltskin had never been particularly fond of himself, and despite the depth of the love he felt for Belle, he often wondered what it was she saw in him. And the terrified corner of his soul that he would probably always carry with him was always afraid of losing her. Particularly after having been gone for a year. True Love or not, why wouldn't she try to find someone who might make her happy, someone better than him, younger and less stained by darkness? Belle, however, just squeezed his arm again and gave him a soft smile.

His son cleared his throat. "Not to interrupt your moment here, but I'm still kind of in the dark."

Belle snickered against his shoulder, and even Rumplestiltskin smiled at that.

"I suppose I should answer your original question, then," he began. "Reul Ghorm was mostly truthful in the information she shared…she just left out the name of the sorcerer."

"That fae called you…" Bae started, and then stared, and Rumplestiltskin could see his boy's mind catch up. "Oh, damn. That power came from Merlin?"

"Right in one."

Everyone had heard of Merlin. Hell, Rumplestiltskin remembered telling Baelfire bedtime stories about the legendary sorcerer—stories with questionable basis in fact, but stories all the same. He'd first learned them from the two spinsters who cared for him after his father abandoned him, beautiful and tragic tales of power. So his son was understandably shocked, particularly because Merlin was widely held to have been the most powerful human sorcerer ever (a misnomer now, Rumplestiltskin knew, but that was only because history had somehow forgotten that there'd been three others of equal power; Merlin had only lived the longest). Bae seemed to need to swallow several times before he said:

"That's um…"

"A bit of a leap from where we started?" Rumplestiltskin finished for him, his voice soft. There'd once been a time when he would never have discussed his own humble beginnings—Belle hadn't even known about them until sometime after her father had tried to send her over the town line—but this was Bae.

"That's the understatement of all time, Papa," Bae retorted, but at least he didn't seem very disturbed by it. Then again, Bae had decided to forgive him as the Dark One; perhaps now he was just happy to hear that the powers hadn't started inside some legendary font of evil or something.

"It's more than that," Belle put in, looking at Bae and not Rumplestiltskin. Part of him wanted to stop her, wanted to cut off the explanations Rumplestiltskin could guess she was going to provide—but if he couldn't be truthful with these two, who could he trust? Three centuries of loneliness created hard habits to overcome, but for Bae and Belle, he would try. For her part, Belle only squeezed his arm again and continued: "Merlin wasn't just a sorcerer, Bae. He was one of the four original human powers, with power equal to that of the Blue Fairy…or the Black Fairy."

"It was her, you know," Rumplestiltskin admitted quietly, looking down at his hands again and forcing the memories of pain aside. His memories, this time, not Merlin's. "That held me for that year. She wanted to force the curse back into me. To make me the Dark One as she did Merlin."

Belle's smaller hand found his, and she squeezed his fingers tightly. Another deep breath, and then Rumplestiltskin brought his head up to look in his son's eyes again. No, he wasn't perfectly all right, but at least he knew, now. For that entire year, he had burned to know why she'd tortured him, and now he had the reason. Even if he still wanted to find a corner and shake until the trauma passed.

"But it didn't work," Bae said softly, and Rumplestiltskin was so glad that it wasn't a question.

He smiled tightly. "I had reasons to fight her. I had the two of you."

A month after they'd won his kingdom back for him, King Francis finally scraped up a general of his own and enough soldiers to defend his borders. The forts along their temporary frontier had also been rebuilt, which allowed David to pull some soldiers out of defending the entire alliance's borders and bring them back into the main army. It helped, of course, that the Witch's newest general, Shan Yu, seemed to want to focus on the Grand Alliance's biggest army rather than taking back territory, but for the moment Francis' kingdom seemed secure. That allowed Mulan to unite her army with David's, and now they were in the midst of planning their biggest offensive yet.

Working with the warrior woman wasn't quite as seamless as working with Baelfire, but they'd formed a pretty good relationship. Mulan was sharp as a nail, and tougher than anyone David had ever met, and damn it if she didn't make up for any lack of tactical finesse with good leadership and sheer tenacity. In the beginning, David had felt a certain need to defend her from some of their more bigoted types, but Mulan had quickly shown him how foolish that notion was. Even hard-bitten old soldiers were willing to follow her after that slip of a girl proved she could wipe the floor with the lot of them, and she certainly did do that. In fact, David was in the midst of watching Mulan tear into another well-bred moron who thought a woman had no place commanding an army and trying not to smile. Lord Avenant was a new addition to their force, related in some distant fashion to Belle, but clearly not from the side of the family that had any common sense.

"Enjoying the show?" a voice suddenly spoke up from his left, and David jumped, instinctively reaching for his sword.

Regina laughed. "I thought you knew how little good that did you against me."

"I never heard of you being immortal or impervious to harm," David retorted out of habit. Being friendly with Regina still sat oddly with him sometimes, but his stepmother in law was definitely trying. Hell, "camping with the Charmings"-type comments aside, Regina was always good to have around, even if you did have to deal with a greater-than-usual quotient of sarcasm.

Unless Robin's around. Then she reminds me of Snow in some really disturbing ways.

"No, just likely to kill someone stupid enough to stab me," Regina replied with a sweet smile.

"Then I'll be sure to throw my enemies at you," he grinned.

"You won't be throwing anyone at anything if you don't get back to the Dark Castle soon," Regina said, raising an eyebrow. "Snow's in labor."

"She's what?" David's heart was suddenly in his throat, a feeling of guilt slamming straight into him. He had lost track of the dates, and he should have remembered that Snow was due any day now! But why was Regina, of all people, here to tell him this?

"In labor. Giving birth. Surely you know what that means by now," was the dry response. Regina even rolled her eyes, just in case David hadn't known she thought he was being an idiot.

He glared at her, not in the mood to be mocked. "Why are you here telling me this?"

"Well, I seem to have a history of interfering with your children's births in some way or another. I just thought I'd be nice enough to take you to the Dark Castle this time, instead of sending someone to stab you."

"Gee, that's nice of you." Still, David wasn't fool enough to turn down the offer. "Give me a minute to let Mulan know I'm leaving."

The Evil Queen shrugged. "Take your time. Judging from what Doc said—though I have no idea why you'd let a dwarf preside over the birth of your child—it's going to be awhile."

David ignored the jibe, and strode over to speak to Mulan. She'd already turned Lord Avenant into paste and was now talking amicably with their senior officers, but she turned to look at David as he approached, her sharp eyes zeroing in on him right away.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yeah—I mean, no. Not wrong, just, well, great." David shook his head and tried to make himself make sense—Mulan was staring at him like he'd lost his mind, so David took a deep breath. And ignored Regina's snicker. "Snow's in labor. I've got to head to the Dark Castle—can you hold things together here?"

"Of course I can," Mulan replied right away. "You go. You need to be there for this. For her."

"Thanks. As long as I don't have to carry this baby around while in a swordfight, I think I'll be okay," David couldn't resist adding with a glance at Regina.

She was the picture of innocence, while Mulan just looked confused. "I have no idea what you're talking about," Regina declared, but David saw a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

How far had they come that they could joke about this now? Somehow, their once deadliest enemy had become family, and David couldn't bring himself to regret that. So, when Regina held her arm out for him to take, he did so with no hesitation.

"I'll send Baelfire back if I can't get back soon enough for the next offensive," David promised Mulan. Surely Bae was done with that rescue mission by now, and he had no doubt that Regina—or Rumplestiltskin, if it came to that—could find Bae and let him know what was going on.

"We'll be waiting," Mulan promised, but Regina didn't give David a chance to respond. Magic tugged, and they were gone.

Emma had been present for exactly one child's birth in her life, and she hadn't really been paying much attention to anything except herself at the time. Of course, the fact that she now had double memories on that front only confused things further; everything happened in the same way until she suddenly decided to hold Henry and changed her mind—except she hadn't. Damn it all. Could she get Regina to forcibly remove the second set of memories? Did she want to? Emma had no idea, but it really didn't matter at the moment, because here she was, holding her mother's hand as Snow White started going through contractions.

"You've got some time yet," Doc told her mother solemnly, pushing his hat out of his eyes with one hand.

Really? Who wanted a dwarf to be your obstetrician? Were her parents barking crazy?

"Just, um, keep breathing," Emma tried to tell her mother, whose face was scrunched up in discomfort.

"I know. I've done this before," Mary Margaret—Snow—panted. "It's so much easier when you don't have the curse to end all curses bearing down on you and the wardrobe isn't finished."

Despite herself, Emma grinned. God, she hated the Enchanted Forest sometimes. Childbirth belonged in a proper hospital, with doctors and nurses who understood the need for sterilization and all those other medical procedures. Even prison had been better than this! Here, Snow was propped up in an admittedly huge and gorgeous bed in an enchanted castle, of all places, with a dwarf and a fairy looking on. At least it was Tinker Bell and not that bitch of a Blue Fairy who had tried to steal Emma's son. Chief of the "good" fairies or not, Emma wasn't going to forget that. Not this side of eternity ending, anyway.

"So, no big deal, right?" she asked, pulling her mind away from the still-brewing anger over what had happened while she and Regina were gone. Gold knew more than he was letting on, of course, and Neal—or Baelfire, she supposed—had better have gotten some answers by now. But he'd tell her when this was over. Emma knew that.

"It won't be if your father gets here sometime today," Snow hissed as a contraction hit. "Where is he?"

"Regina went to get him," Tink supplied helpfully, earning herself a glare.

"Then tell my evil stepmother to hurry the hell up!"

No one bothered to point out to Snow that Regina wasn't there to tell, or that by the time someone sent a message via tablet, which had to be read on the other end, Regina would probably be back with David. Emma didn't bother to point out that Snow and Regina seemed to get along well these days; she knew all about the stupid things women said while giving birth. She'd roundly cursed Neal, her unknown parents, and the universe in general while giving birth to Henry. Besides, she had the feeling that Regina still didn't mind that label very much. These days, it was likely to make her laugh.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Emma tried to soothe her mother, but she should have known better.

"This is his fault," Snow snarled. "It's always his fault."

"At least there's no wardrobe to wait on this time?" Not that Emma remembered being born, but she'd read that bit of Henry's book several times before she'd torn the pages out and burned them.

Snow laughed breathlessly. "No, just a beautiful daughter holding my hand."

"Mom…" The word escaped before Emma could stop it, and she felt a smile softening her face. Their relationship was still rocky; she was older than her parents, for crying out loud, and that would never stop being awkward. But she knew they loved her, and she loved them, and sometimes that was enough.

"I love you, Emma. You know that, right?" Snow said as if she could read her mind. She looked so sad that it broke Emma's heart.

Emma's eyes were suddenly a little misty. "I know," she whispered. "I know."

The door burst open before she could figure out something else to say, for some way to ease the irrational grief she knew that her mother was feeling. Emma had always been a little angry with her parents for abandoning her, even when she'd known they sent her away to save her. But how hard had it been for them, sharing only a moment or two with their newborn before giving her up? That pain was precisely what the original Emma had wanted to avoid when she'd refused to hold Henry…and the thought of letting her child go had made her cling to him in the memories Regina had given her. Speaking of the Evil Queen, her voice sang out:

"No need to get up, dear Snow. We've arrived." Regina swept through the doors like the queen she technically wasn't any longer, elegant, graceful, and still more than a little dark.

"Snow!"

And there was her father, rushing to her mother's other side to grip her hand. The world's goofiest grin decorated his face, and Emma almost turned away as the two of them kissed. They never stop, do they? Just watching the depth of her parents' love made Emma's heart ache. It was like watching Regina with Robin, or—frighteningly enough—Rumplestiltskin with Belle. She wanted that. She'd spent years telling herself that she'd never let someone break her heart again…but she wanted love like that.

Then her mother's hand closed on hers hard, and Emma banished those thoughts, too, just in time for Regina to turn for the door.

"Regina?" Snow's voice was surprisingly small, and Emma's head whipped around to look at the hesitant expression on her mother's face.

"Yes?" the Evil Queen asked cautiously.

"I wouldn't mind if you stayed," Snow said quietly, and Emma could hear the plea in that. Snow didn't want Regina to feel obligated to stay, but she wanted the older woman to want to stay. For all the pain and anger between the pair of them, Emma sensed that there'd once also been love, as well. And Regina's technically my step-grandmother. How weird is that?

Regina started, blinking awkwardly. Then a tiny smile crossed her face, and she sat on the bed next to Emma. "I'll stay, then," the Evil Queen said quietly.

Snow cried out as another contraction hit her, but her suddenly wide smile never wavered. Emma exchanged a glance with Regina, a warm feeling sneaking through her. This was nothing like she'd expected when she'd finally embraced the fact that she was the savior and had to break the curse, but since when did things go according to plan? They were an odd family, but a family they were.

Two hours later, Emma couldn't stop staring at the angry red bundle in her father's arms. Her mother was red faced but grinning while Tinker Bell provided the necessary magic to clean Snow up—and okay, that was a nice convenience they didn't have back home—and Doc had just finished checking the baby over. Even Regina seemed pleased if a bit uncomfortable; Emma was willing to bet that Regina had never stuck around for someone to give birth, either, and despite being a mother, Regina didn't have her own personal experiences to fall back on. Her father, of course, was grinning from ear to ear as if he'd done some of the work himself.

Sometimes it was a relief to know that even her super-brave, extra-charming, and all-around-perfect father could just be an idiot man, too.

"Emma," her father said quietly, extending the squalling baby to her. "Meet Graham."

The floor dropped out from under her, and Emma thought she heard Regina make a small noise from her left. "Graham?" she whispered.

"We couldn't think of a better or braver man to honor," David replied as Emma finally remembered to take her baby brother into her arms.

"Hello, Graham," Emma whispered, cradling the baby close. God, it was awkward having a baby brother thirteen years younger than her own son, but little Graham was adorable. "I'm your sister."

He didn't do much other than cry, but he was a newborn. Still, he seemed to pause to look up at Emma for a moment, and that made her melt.

"I always wanted a little brother," she finally managed to say.

"Really?" Snow asked.

Emma smiled. "Better than a little sister who wants me to play dress up with her." She reached out a finger to touch Graham's cheek. "Baby brothers want to climb trees, don't you? I know how to do that."

Her parents laughed, and Regina joined in, even if her chuckle did sound a little watery. Snow sat up and extended her arms, and Emma handed Graham to their mutual mother, who smiled down at him adoringly. A tiny part of Emma had expected to be envious of this child, of her formerly unknown sibling who would get to know their parents from the beginning of his life onwards, but she didn't, surprisingly. Maybe it was because she was a mother, too, or maybe she'd just finally grown up.

"Regina?" Snow asked quietly, and the woman to Emma's left started.

"Yes?"

"We'd like you to be Graham's godmother," Snow replied, and Emma watched the color drain out of Regina's face.

"If you're willing," David added, and Emma was pretty sure that Regina was going to cry.

"Of course I am," she whispered. "You just try and stop me."

A/N: I think this might be the most answer-full and fluffy chapter I've ever written. Fluff's not normally my forte, so tell me if you think the characterizations did/did not work here. Questions for the coming chapters: 1) Do you think that the Blue Fairy is going to change tactics and 2) Do you think anything untold will happen with the army while Charming is gone?

Next up is Chapter 18: "Calm Before the Storm", where the Buffalo-Leather Soldier is back, Excalibur makes an appearance, and King David has to play hero.