Chapter Twenty-Two—"Dance of Death"

Rumplestiltskin stepped onto the dance floor with Danns' a'Bhàis, her magic swirling around the pair of them and infecting everyone in the room. By the time she'd led him to the center of the floor, the tendrils of magic had reached out and pulled every attendee save for the musicians into the dance. So far they were all happy, but Rumplestiltskin could feel the darkness lurking behind the playful magical touch. It always started this way, he knew, started with sweetness and light before the dance of death began.

Hazel eyes fastened on his, and they danced in silence for several long minutes as Rumplestiltskin met her gaze. It was like indulging in a silent battle of wills whilst in the midst of a power-borne chess game. Her magic pulled at him and he rejected it; he sent threads out to counter the spells she wrapped around everyone else and she sidestepped them. They shared one turn around the dance floor, and then another, with the other dancers always moving aside to allow them to sweep by. Their movements were perfectly choreographed, absolutely flawless. The only wildcard in the seamless dance was Rumplestiltskin himself, because he was the single soul in the room free of her spell. Finally, her right hand drifted up to touch the back of his neck, and Rumplestiltskin twirled her away, barely managing not to flinch away in fear.

Her fingers only brushed his neck slightly before he used the dance to force her to break contact, but memories still dug into his mind.

Pain ripped through Rumplestiltskin, darkness clawing at his soul. Power swirled around his bound body, making his leaden limbs spasm weakly. Torn flesh scraped against hard stone, making him whimper.

"I will give you your magic back," she whispered in his ear, her hand stroking his face, now. "Everything you have ever been, you can be again. Strong. Fearless. Powerful."

Tears streaked down his face. He could barely understand the words through the shudders racking his body, but the temptation was unbelievably strong. Rumplestiltskin hated weakness, hated his own fears more than anything else, and breaking his own curse had left him powerless. If he accepted the darkness again, he could protect his family, he could—

Bae's face flashed in front of his eyes, not as he'd last seen his son, but as a boy of fourteen who was horrified by the monster his beloved papa had become. A boy who had come to fear his own father, who had only wanted to protect him—

She must have sensed his resistance, because the hand slipped around to behind his neck once more and Rumplestiltskin screamed in pain.

He caught her wrist when her hand ghosted upwards again as she completed the twirl, meeting her playful smile with a knowing smirk. "Not so fast, dearie."

Rumplestiltskin could never have been so courageous were it not for the magic, his magic, sweeping through him, for the way his fingers tingled with power even when he was not calling on it or the way magic augmented his senses without even a spell, letting him watch the tendrils spread out as she worked. He'd always been a coward at heart and probably always would be; there would always be fears to overcome. Yet he could face Danns' a'Bhàis on even terms because he knew his power could match hers, because he knew that he was what she was. He could smile at her and bat her hand aside lightly, could manage not to flinch when her fingers returned to resting on his left shoulder.

Two original powers, swirling around the dance floor, making the first moves in a match either could win.

"Is something troubling you, old friend?" she asked amicably, never breaking away from his gaze.

"Should something be?" Rumplestiltskin countered, his wild heartbeat slowing.

Danns smiled. "Perhaps."

"I hate to disappoint you, but if you're looking for cracks, you'll not be so lucky," he told her. No, she need not know how often she featured in his nightmares, about the shattered soul that Belle had reassembled piece by piece. He'd told Belle and Bae that he had fought her because he'd had reasons to fight, and that was still valid.

"Who says I'm looking?" the Black Fairy replied, her eyes wide and innocent.

The devious twinkle behind the look ruined the affect, and Rumplestiltskin snorted.

"Let's not be less than honest with one another. We both know what you want."

"What I want is to dance with an old friend who I have missed," she answered smoothly. But her eyes searched his face subtly, looking for that old friend whose memories of pain lurked in the recesses of Rumplestiltskin's mind.

"You're out of luck, then, dear." He let a smile play on his own lips, let her see the claws lurking beneath the calm façade. "Your old friend is long gone. You saw to that."

"Is he, now?"

She didn't believe him. Rumplestiltskin almost laughed in her face, but that was not how the game was played. Instead, he only kept the sly smile on, letting his eyes hint at deeper truths without giving a hint away.

"I am what I am." Rumplestiltskin to the core.

"Aren't you always." Danns purred the words, her right hand drifting upwards once more. Stopping her twice would be an admission of weakness, so he let her fingers touch the back of his neck, oh so lightly.

It took all of his self-control to continue to wear the mysterious smile and not flinch wildly away from her. Not to run and hide. But he managed, and her touch did not bring magic, not yet. Nor did the pain he'd half-expected race through his body. For now it was merely physical contact, and unpleasant though it was, Rumplestiltskin could deal with that. Even if it would give him nightmares later.

"Do try to remember that," he told her, all sharp edges and a nasty smile, feeling very much as he had back when he'd been the Dark One. The power flowing through him was different, but Rumplestiltskin still hated being cornered, and was likely to lash out at a moment's notice. Knowing that about himself didn't make it easier to stop.

Wait, he told himself firmly. Play the game for all it's worth. She doesn't know, and although flat out lying to her would be counterproductive, you can still twist words with the best of them. Let her learn that today, if nothing else.

Better yet, let her learn that lesson another day, and let her assumptions carry her today.

"Such hostility," the Black Fairy said mournfully, her fingers playing with his hair. He hated that, and wanted to snarl at her, but resisted the urge.

Play the part.

"Are you surprised?" Rumplestiltskin asked instead of yanking away. "I'd say you've given me plenty of reasons."

"I wouldn't have needed to if not for your recalcitrance."

That very comment brought up memories—memories of Merlin refusing to take Danns' side against her sister. That was how she saw it, of course, but the heart of the matter for Merlin had been that he refused to allow her to use humanity as her personal playground. Rumplestiltskin's predecessor had loved the queen of the fae, and had hated standing against her. But the idealist had done it because he thought it was right, and oddly enough, Rumplestiltskin agreed with him. Oh, he'd never be the type of straightforward, sword-slinging, tries-so-hard-to-be-honorable hero that Merlin had been. He was anything but that. Yet he'd already told Reul Ghorm which side he had chosen…and it was the same one Merlin had chosen over a thousand years earlier.

"I think we differ on the definition of the word need," he replied dryly, neatly sidestepping the fact that she was obviously referring to Merlin's actions and not his own. Rumplestiltskin had never done anything save refuse to become her creature, and interestingly enough, he didn't think that she held that against him.

Danns chuckled. "Perhaps we do. Still, it has been terribly boring without you."

"Speak for yourself. I've been plenty entertained."

He spun her again, in time with the music, a back corner of his mind noticing the graceful way the fae floated from step to step. Her black and silver dress swirled around her like a whirlpool of deep magic, brushing against Rumplestiltskin's legs as he led her through each dance. There was ancient magic at work within her, probably not even executed on a conscious level, transforming natural beauty into perfection, allure into fascination. Any man not already in the grips of True Love would probably find her irresistible; even Rumplestiltskin felt the pull, and he'd never been very in touch with his own carnal nature. But she was gorgeous, flawless, and deadly, worse than any siren and incalculably more dangerous.

Every male eye in the room was on them, even with everyone else was stuck in the throes of the dance. He could imagine fools being willing to die for so much as a smile out of her; Danns' a'Bhàis was the stuff from which dreams and nightmares were made. Rumplestiltskin could see where Merlin had fallen, could begin to understand the slight stirrings of longing included in his memories. Danns had been more than Merlin's closest friend; she'd been his lover, his sin, and his darker half. She had understood him in ways that even Morgan Le Fae could not—because this vast power they held defied explanation and only a few could grasp its terrifying wonders—but in the end Merlin had chosen to leave her.

From the way she was watching him, Rumplestiltskin knew what she wanted. Hazel eyes burned into his own, not only enjoying the invisible cut and thrust of their verbal duel, but also looking for more. Danns had meant what she'd said about being bored, and she really did still think he was Merlin.

Ruthless though he was, there were some aspects to that assumption Rumplestiltskin would never exploit.

"I'm sure you have," she purred. "But why content yourself with small trivialities such as this? You were born for so much more."

Evil isn't born, he'd told half a hundred people. It's made. Rumplestiltskin almost laughed aloud. Merlin had been borne of a human princess and an elemental demon, born with magic that made people assume he was destined for greatness. Rumplestiltskin was the product of a peasant swindler who'd impregnated a woman whose name Malcolm hadn't even remembered when the deed was done. Rumplestiltskin had been born to be a peasant, an absolute nonentity who never mattered. He'd made himself into something more.

"Strangely enough, I think I am exactly where I need to be," he murmured in response, curious to see how she would react.

A bit of the sparkle left her eyes, which narrowed. "It need not be this way, old friend. Not this time."

The threat in those words was whisper-soft, but it was still there.

"Oh, I quite agree," Rumplestiltskin said pleasantly, as if he'd missed the edge in her voice. "There's no need to repeat the mistakes of the past."

I'll be taking that dagger back, dearie, he didn't say. Without the curse you think goes with it.

Did she hear the unspoken promise? There was no way to be sure, but Danns' sharp mind missed very little. Toy with her though he might, Rumplestiltskin could not afford to allow himself to forget how intelligent she was. Reul Ghorm was the tenacious sister. Danns' a'Bhàis was the brilliant one.

Her hand returned to the back of his neck, having drifted away when he'd twirled her around. Long fingers toyed gently with the ends of his hair again, and Danns smiled again, her expression softening. "I have missed our alliance."

"Have you now?" Rumplestiltskin believed she was usually more subtle than this, but he actually understood the loneliness behind the emotion she'd called boredom.

"I have."

Keeping his silence, Rumplestiltskin chose to wait and see how long Danns could bear the lack of response. Capable of great patience though she was, the Black Fairy preferred to have answers when she demanded them. Despite her years of exile—or perhaps because of them—she was used to absolute power over her people. She did not enjoy dealing with those who would defy her, who would refuse to dance to her tune.

"Think on it," she said after two minutes or so, after the music changed to an otherworldly melody that the members of the orchestra could not have already known. It was ancient and forgotten, composed by a half-fairy bard back in the days when such things were more common. Rumplestiltskin could feel her magic swelling, filling the room and making the tempo of the dance speed up. Soon, the unwitting dancers would be caught up in a frustrated fae's frenzy.

Throwing out markers so he could dismantle the magic later, Rumplestiltskin realized suddenly that if he could not calm her, the spells might prove well-nigh unstoppable.

"I'm not one to disregard any option without careful consideration," he answered smoothly.

"I remember you being much more bold," Danns replied, her eyes sharpening again. "Or is this Rumplestiltskin, the meticulous manipulator of deals?"

But she knew so little about him; the question was clearly a shot in the dark based upon only rumors she'd heard.

"We all change over time," Rumplestiltskin said neutrally, avoiding her question.

"Speak for yourself." But her smile told him that she at least appreciated cleverness. Danns was clearly trying to figure out what was Merlin and what was Rumplestiltskin, but she was obviously willing to exercise some of the patience she so disliked in this case. After all, boredom was best relieved whilst playing this most dangerous of games. Her eyes gleamed. "I am much the same as ever before."

Rumplestiltskin quirked a smile, reaching up to move her hand away from his neck in a very deliberate movement. "I'm sure you are."

"Then don't make me wait too long, old friend." Gliding to a stop, Danns moved forward to kiss him; Rumplestiltskin turned his head at the last moment so that her lips landed, feather-light, on his cheek.

The Black Fairy stepped back, smiling one last time, beautiful and deadly, graceful and toxic.

"Enjoy."

With that last word, she vanished in a swirl of black and silver smoke, leaving a sprinkling of dark fairy dust shimmering in the air. Meanwhile, the rest of the guests continued dancing, wrapped tightly in the tendrils of her magic. Helpless though they were, each and every person clearly knew they were being controlled. Their expressions varied from mild worry to outright panic; everyone was dancing and no one could stop. Even the orchestra's members were clearly starting to grow concerned, with their fingers stuck to their instruments as they played alien tunes. Regina and Maleficent were stuck in the dance, too, both looking furious and miserable as they fought against power they could not match. A year ago, I would have been right beside them. Now it was all up to him.

The irony in that simple fact cut sharper than any deal he'd ever made.

Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath, reaching into the magic and watching how the threads fit together. Whilst he worked, a flick of his left wrist produced a vial into which the fairy dust vanished. He'd never been too proud to claim whatever magic his foes left behind; everything had its uses. Sealing the bottle and tucking it into a pocket, Rumplestiltskin turned his attention to the still-dancing crowd. He stood motionless in the center of the dance floor and focused.

There. The Black Fairy's spells were too layered to leave behind a single thread which he could pull to dismantle them, but once he found one, spotting the others he needed was easy. Yet he was in no hurry. One by one, he identified each thread, and then went through the process a second time, finding three that he'd missed. All the while, the dancers continued to dance, and the music continued to play. On his third pass he found yet a fourth hidden tendril, but when two more passes came up clean, he knew he was ready. Slowly, gathering his own power as he did so, Rumplestiltskin raised his hands, grasping dozens of shining, invisible threads and watching while, as one, all of the dancers missed a step in their waltz. He waited one second, and then two, and then pulled.

Magic collapsed around him, and Rumplestiltskin drew it into himself, sucking in power dizzyingly fast. He'd wondered, more than once, if he had original power or was an original power. But no mere human could have been a vessel for this extreme magic for long, and each succeeding time he used it became easier than the last. Now he had his answer. His body might have been human—and it was, frighteningly so, at least compared with how he'd been as the Dark One—but the power would change that, given time. Slightly. Within seconds, the tendrils crumbled into nothing, leaving his mind singing with power and everyone else free.

A collective gasp filled the room; a dozen people fell and nearly everyone else stumbled. Waiting for the mild vertigo to pass, Rumplestiltskin missed the shocked conversations starting around him until Regina strode forward to demand:

"What the hell was that?"

She'd clearly been dancing with her outlaw, because she still held his hand in her own, but Rumplestiltskin knew that tone of old, from before Regina softened and started listening to her heart. Her rage had always made for potent magic, and he could feel how shocked Regina was to find that it had failed her this time. It never had, he knew, and facing your own mortality was a frightening thing.

"I think you know, dear," he replied automatically, and none too helpfully. Belle, however, stepped forward to grasp his arm gently before Regina could retort.

"That was the Black Fairy, wasn't it?" his love asked.

Belle looked a little pale and shaken; he wouldn't toy with her.

"Indeed it was," Rumplestiltskin replied, raising his voice so that everyone could hear, and watching at least half the crowd take a fearful step backwards. He should probably say something reassuring—Merlin would have—but Rumplestiltskin had never been the type. "The spell she placed on you is broken. There is nothing to fear. At the moment."

"Thank you, Rumplestiltskin." Surprisingly, the words came from Snow White, gliding forward, her words and serenity soothing fears as she came. "You saved us."

No one in the room had missed the stories of those stolen or slain by the fae in the preceding weeks, and now they suddenly understood why their forefathers had feared the Black Fairy's followers. The fae had been forgotten in all but legend, but now they were real and terrifying. They could kill fairies, and they could do this. What else could the fae do to hurt them? Fearful looks were exchanged, and a few people nodded, understanding. Still, Rumplestiltskin had not expected gratitude, and Snow's words made him blink.

"You're welcome," he said a little uncomfortably, and then couldn't help adding: "I did tell you that I was on your side, dearie."

"And we shall not doubt it again." Snow's smile was warm enough to touch even his withered black heart, and Rumplestiltskin felt Belle glowing at his side. Damn the girl. He'd had his differences with Snow White over the years, but he'd never doubted the young queen's indomitable goodness. He'd just never had it aimed at him, before.

Unable to find a suitable response, Rumplestiltskin just bowed and hoped the royals would go away. Fortunately, they did so, and the crowd slowly broke down into concerned knots of people busy verifying that their friends and family were unharmed. That left Rumplestiltskin standing with Belle at the center of the dance floor, fae magic still coursing through his veins as his own power worked to assimilate it. The process was not as smooth as he might have hoped. He felt as if ants were crawling around under his skin.

"Are you all right?" Belle asked quietly. Leave it to her to be the only one who worried for him. The others were all rightfully distracted by Rumplestiltskin's display of power.

"I think so," he answered honestly, resisting the urge to sidestep the issue. It was a hard habit to break, but Belle deserved better, though Rumplestiltskin was careful to keep his voice soft.

"She looked…possessive."

He snorted. "She was. She thinks I'm Merlin."

"What?" Belle gaped.

"Oh, yes." Now Rumplestiltskin allowed himself to smile despite the way the power was eating at him in an increasingly painful manner. Of course it was a trap. Danns had always loved her traps. But he'd laid one, too.

"Rumple?" Belle brought him back to the present.

"Kiss me," he said abruptly, realizing what he needed to derail the magic tearing through him. True Love's kiss had cleaned out his system when Belle and the others had rescued him from Bremen, and Rumplestiltskin knew it would work again. True Love's kiss would work when nothing else would. And Danns had no idea.

Belle threw him a funny look but smiled anyway, moving close to him and placing her warm hands against his chest. Rumplestiltskin lowered his face to meet hers, and pure power surged through him as their lips touched. He'd drawn Danns' spell in, but True Love burned it out, cleansing his soul and leaving Rumplestiltskin lightheaded in a miraculously wonderful way. He'd never dreamed of anything like this, and still sometimes wondered how he, of all people, had earned the love of a wonderful woman like Belle, but at least he'd learned enough to trust in her love. Now he could relax into her and let the kiss do its work, chasing away his demons and the magic that the Black Fairy had left behind.

"Better?" Belle asked softly.

He smiled. "Utterly."

Movement caught Killian's eye as Emma stormed out of the ballroom (a room he'd had no idea even existed in this monstrously enchanted castle, though Killian had to admit that he'd curtailed his earlier explorations after a set of stairs had tried to bite his leg off). Slipping away from his halfhearted conversation with the leggy wolf girl and Tink, Killian followed her out the side door and into a hallway he'd never entered before. It was full of dusty paintings, a terrifically realistic looking bear, and a suit of armor that snapped to attention as Emma strode past, hugging her arms to her chest and obviously noticing nothing. She looked half-furious and half-devastated, and he couldn't leave her alone like this.

Even if she'd chosen to let Baelfire escort her to her brother's christening, Killian still cared for Emma Swan more than words could express. Besides which, he could always cherish hope that she'd chosen Baelfire for Henry's sake and Emma showing up on the younger man's arm in no way indicated her romantic inclinations. She'd warned him ahead of time, which he appreciated, and although Emma had indicated that choosing Bae might be more permanent than Killian wished, she hadn't come right out and said so yet. For now, however, he'd not allow himself to dwell upon that—Emma looked like she needed a friend, and if a friend she wanted, a friend Killian would be. Though it breaks my heart, I'll stop at that, if it's what the lady wants, he told himself for the hundredth time. Killian had always felt a special bond with Emma, and he'd brought her back from the Land Without Magic when everyone had doubted that he'd be able to convince her. They'd only grown closer when they set out to rescue Regina, yet something seemed to have gone wrong in the interim. He only wished he knew what.

Emma stopped at a T in the hallway, staring blankly at a tapestry that featured a heavily built black unicorn and a beautiful young woman. Killian approached cautiously, not even trying to be stealthy, but she still jumped when he spoke.

"Something bothering you, love?" he asked gently.

"Hook." Emma grimaced, and then shook her head. "No. I just needed some air."

"I'll admit that it's gotten a little…stuffy in there. Probably all the magic flying around." Killian shrugged, remembering the oddly warm feeling of the Black Fairy's magic wrapping around all of them, the way it had felt so marvelous to dance with that lovely wolf girl as if neither of them had a care in the world. Guiltily, he realized that he'd not even thought about Emma as he'd danced with Ruby, he'd just enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms and a perfect dance.

Of course, that feeling hadn't lasted; soon enough his legs had started getting sore and the music only sped up instead of slowing down. Killian liked to think that he'd realized there was something wrong before most of the guests had, but by then it had been far too late. The warm and carefree feeling had been replaced by deep-seated worry, particularly when he'd noticed Regina caught in the same frenzy as the rest of them. Worse yet, Rumplestiltskin had been dancing with that terrifyingly ethereal woman. A woman who was too beautiful was always a problem in Killian's experience; that meant magic was at work, and a lass who needed those kinds of tricks almost always had an ugly soul to hide. Still, Rumplestiltskin had somehow undone what the evil fairy had wrought, and though Killian could never bring himself to forgive Milah's killer, he'd been very relieved.

That said, he would have paid good gold to know what those two had talked about before Rumplestiltskin had bothered to break the spell. He was willing to bet that the former Dark One was playing some sort of game. Even though Snow White had foolishly promised to doubt him no longer, Killian was not willing to put his trust in Rumplestiltskin. Milah had trusted him once, and he'd only proven himself a coward and then, later, as the most evil monster in creation. What he was now was anyone's guess, but Killian was willing to bet that there was something Rumplestiltskin still wasn't sharing.

"That's the problem," Emma answered after a moment, her beautiful eyes narrowing.

Killian blinked, and then his mind caught up. "The magic?"

"Yes." She all but growled the word, but he could see some fear in her expression, too, and he resisted the urge to sweep her up in her arms and try to reassure her in other ways. Such things had rarely worked well with Emma Swan, and Killian knew that if he tried to romance her now, he was likely to receive another knee to the groin. Once was quite enough on that front.

"We all felt that, Emma," he said instead, trying to reassure her. "And though a daring pirate such as myself dislikes admitting to fear, I can tell you in confidence that I was rather terrified. I don't take well to being helpless."

"It's not that."

Stepping closer to her, Killian reached out to put a hand on Emma's arm. "Then what's bothering you, love?"

"I felt it coming," Emma ground out. "You felt it when it happened, but I have magic, and I felt every bit of it coming. And I couldn't do a damn thing about it. Me, the Savior. And I couldn't save anyone."

"You can't always be the Savior," he pointed out gently, not sure what else to say in the face of her anger. "Sometimes you just have to be Emma Swan."

"They're the same thing."

"Are they?" Killian countered.

"Yes. I was born to be the Savior. It's what I've been ever since Rumplestiltskin put a drop of my parents' True Love on that damn curse." Killian could've killed the former Dark One for that if nothing else, but he'd sworn off revenge and although Rumplestiltskin might possibly have been more mortal these days, Killian wasn't fool enough to try. Emma, however, continued acidly: "And I was as helpless as anyone else. Even though I'm supposed to be able to use magic."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself," he said. "You're hardly Regina. And look at her—she spent a lifetime using magic, and she couldn't do a thing, either."

Emma frowned. "That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"Regina keeps telling me to learn to use my magic, not just to depend upon it to come through when I need it most," she admitted, her voice going very small. "She says that if I keep trusting luck or stubbornness to get me through, sooner or later I'm going to get someone killed."

"No one died tonight, Emma," Killian pointed out reasonably, only to receive a glare in return.

"They could have. Henry could have. Or Graham. Or my parents. Or anyone, all because I haven't wanted to learn to use the magic I have. Even Rumplestiltskin's told me that I can't do what I'm doing, yet I've just kept blindly stumbling on the same path because I want to be normal." The bitterness in her voice was sharp enough to cut skin, and it made Killian wince. But Emma plowed onwards before he could get a word in edgewise, her voice growing hard: "But I'm the Savior. I don't have the luxury of being normal, and that means I don't get to ignore my magic, either."

The determination in her voice made him swallow before he could ask: "Are you sure that's what you want, love?"

Killian had rarely seen learning to use magic work out well for anyone. Look at Regina—by all accounts, she'd been a nice girl before Rumplestiltskin got a hold of her, and she'd turned into the Evil Queen after learning magic. The last thing Killian wanted was to see Emma walk down that same dark road. He'd been a villain, maybe still was, and Emma deserved so much better than to be stuck on that path.

"No. But I'm sure it's what I have to do." Her shoulders rolled back, and Emma straightened; Killian realized too late that he'd been too gentle, and now he might not be able to talk her out of this at all.

"Magic isn't necessarily a good thing, love," he tried anyway. "I've been to many realms and seen dozens of magic users, and they never come out of it the same as they went in. "Pan was apparently normal before he became a monster. I saw Rumplestiltskin before he became the Dark One, and believe me, he was nothing like he is now before magic got ahold of him. Even Regina was apparently good, once, at least if your mother is to be believed. You don't have to do this. Let them pay the price for such power. Not you."

Emma turned to look at him, the gratitude that had briefly shown on her face changing to wary suspicion. "It's not that simple."

"Of course it is. You can't balance the weight of our entire world on your shoulders. Let the others bear some of the burden," he pleaded.

"I don't want to save everyone," she snapped. "And I don't think I'm the only person who can make a difference."

He hadn't expected that much venom, and Killian held his hands up in surrender. "I never said you did."

"You didn't have to. Would you refuse to use a weapon you were given just because other people might not like it?"

"Of course not." But Killian didn't know if he would have ever wanted to use magic, either. He'd seen magic destroy too much, spent too much time in Neverland, whose magic still haunted his nightmares.

"Then don't expect me to do anything else," Emma retorted.

"I'm not trying to make decisions for you," he replied, slightly stung. Still, Killian had never counted himself as a coward, so he plunged onwards honestly: "I only worry for you. Be careful, love, please. I have seen what magic can do to people, and you deserve so much better."

That finally made Emma smile, just a little. "I'll be careful. I promise," she told him.

On impulse, he seized her hand and kissed it. "All a man can ask," he murmured over her fingers, returning her smile with all of his considerable charm, "is to have a beautiful woman heed his pleas for caution."

"I didn't think you were big on caution." The look she gave him made his heart leap; Killian never could resist Emma at her snarkiest.

"You are lovely tonight, Swan," Killian responded without letting go of her hand. "By far the most beautiful princess of them all. Far above a lowly pirate captain, save in my dreams."

Most women would have blushed; Emma yanked her hand away instead. The glare she gave him was unexpected, and her voice turned dry. "Thanks."

Well, that was hardly the response I was looking for. Killian suppressed the frown that wanted to rise; Emma had always been a challenge, and he loved that about her. He'd not exactly expected her to swoon into his arms or suddenly declare her undying love, but a little hint here or there would have been very nice.

"May I escort you back to the ball?" he asked instead, offering his arm. Perhaps Emma would be more open to her emotions on the dance floor.

"No, you go ahead," Emma replied, shaking her head. "I'm done for the night, and Neal and I are meeting up to make sure Henry actually goes to bed instead of trying to sneak into the library. Again."

The mention of his rival made Killian frown, but he tried to cover his disappointment with a smile. "Of course."

Emma returned the smile, this time more naturally. "Thank you," she said before turning away. "I know…I know you mean well. And that you're trying to look out for me."

"I always will," Killian promised, even though the hesitant tone of Emma's voice said that she wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation. She was an independent woman, he knew—and adored that about her—but he was starting to wonder if he'd pushed too hard.

Or maybe he'd lost her before this conversation even started, and he'd only inadvertently sealed his own coffin with his well-meaning words. I'll be whatever she wants me to be, he told himself again, trying not to listen to what might be his own breaking heart as Emma walked away. If you love them, let them go.

A/N: So, what do you think it means that Rumplestiltskin is an original power vice having original power? And do you think that Black Fairy's belief that he actually is Merlin will prove dangerous to our heroes?

Stay tuned for Chapter 23: "Original Powers", in which the Blue Fairy makes one last try to get what she thinks she needs.

While you're waiting for that (and if you haven't already), please feel free to check out my new Rumplestiltskin-centered shorts. "Watching the Wheel" is a one shot, and "Feed the Madness" is a (currently) two-shot following Rumplestiltskin in season 3B. As always, thank you for reading, and please do let me know what you think!