Author's note:: Taking liberties with the magic surrounding the Grail/Excalibur and adding in a bit of character assassination for the Apprentice. Well, I didn't like the way he threw Emma (and Ingrid, too, in a way) under the bus in s4, so I'm making him even worse in this version of the story! He ended up wildly OOC here, but that's just the way it goes. XD
Long after the intruders had left, under cover of night, the Apprentice returned to his cottage in the Infinite Forest. It was no longer safe to stay there, but he didn't need to stay. He had prepared other retreats well in advance — a mouse scurrying from hole to hole, hunted by more powerful spellcasters ever since he had broken with his old master. But Merlin was bound in a tree while the Apprentice remained free, so who was the fool in the end?
He found what he needed in the vault — a book shifted from its original position on the shelf. A quick divination spell revealed the identity of the last person to touch it. The Apprentice smiled and murmured to himself, "Who needs a seer when people are so predictable?"
He layered a magical sealant around the book before collecting it and moving on to his current lair, a hidden cave not far from the king's castle in Camelot. Travel was more inconvenient without his wand, but he was still wearing his pair of seven league boots (they had saved him from a fiery death when Maleficent had cornered him) and distance was no barrier. Nor was the ocean, due to the water-walking spells he had woven into the soles of the boots.
The next item on his list was trickier to obtain, but still easy enough. Despite Arthur's obsession with mending the broken symbol of his kingship, the man was no sorcerer, nor were any of his knights. His nominal magic advisor, Merlin, wasn't any use in his current state. The Apprentice broke into the castle under a glamour and stole Excalibur, replacing it with an unmagical but otherwise identical replica.
A greater challenge lay ahead. This time a bit of foresight was critical. The Queen of the Wood Beyond had gathered her army, but Rumplestiltskin being who he was, not all those summoned were so eager for battle, no matter what they had been told. At least one fled the field, twice a coward and deserter. It came down to setting a trap in the right place at the right time.
Rumplestiltskin ran right into it. Squid ink held him helpless long enough for the Apprentice to pluck the Dark One dagger from inside his clothes, the protection spells nullified by the squid ink.
The Apprentice saw the panic in the Dark One's eyes and chuckled. "Running away has become something of a habit with you, hasn't it?"
The Dark One broke free of the squid ink and lunged desperately for the dagger. It was typical of the spinner that in the heat of the moment he forgot he had magic and went straight to physical action. Once a commoner, always a commoner. The Apprentice fancied himself to be of better birth: a bastard, but a king's bastard, back when kings were the children of the gods. That king was long since dead and forgotten, but the Apprentice's grandfather was Zeus, who was eternal.
He knew the Skyfather would never openly acknowledge the relationship, but this time, he had been promised elevation to the ranks of Olympus if he succeeded in eliminating the latest prophesied threat to the king of the gods. If he failed, he would take all the blame, but he had no intention of failing.
"Stop," he commanded the Dark One. He brandished the dagger, feeling the power (so much greater than his own, and so undeserved) thrumming through the divine metal. "Come with me."
They went back to the hidden cave, where the Apprentice had everything prepared. He forced the Dark One to kneel in the center of the spell circle inscribed on the floor. He surveyed Rumplestiltskin critically, then said, "It's not you I need. Nimue! Come forth."
Rumplestiltskin's form shimmered and shifted into that of a woman, hooded and robed, face hidden behind a mask. Night-dark eyes bored into his own, full of hatred and resentment. "Curse you, traitor."
"Your own darkness blinds you," the Apprentice admonished gently. "I have always served the highest cause. If anyone is a traitor, it was Merlin, who plotted to set free the rebel Titan. Or yourself, who bound your lover in the tree."
"I never betrayed our love. He only sleeps. There's no blood on our tree!" Nimue spat. "Unlike your masters who sacrificed their trees to become gods. They chose power over love."
"Their sacrifice was made for the greater good. For peace and prosperity, to bring order to a realm overrun by monsters." It was an old argument, but the Apprentice indulged her, if only to remind himself of what he was fighting for.
Nimue laughed, a harsh sound full of scorn. "And you think to have a place in that order, but you will always be a scared little mouse scrambling for crumbs dropped from your master's table."
"Enough, Nimue." His fingers tightened on the dagger as he braced his will against hers. "You hold the Flame of Prometheus. Give it to me."
She struggled against the command, but it was futile. She was not one of the Dark Ones that had answered the fallen Rumplestiltskin — the one who had loved Zelena enough to fall into darkness and challenge the Wood Beyond in her name. She had not been thrown on the path to annihilation and freedom. Nimue remained tethered by her name and her soul to the dagger in the Apprentice's hand. Her hand reached inexorably into her chest and tore the Flame from where she had hidden it inside her heart.
The Apprentice took it, the ember that had once burned hot enough to reforge the Holy Grail into Excalibur.
"Can you relight it, traitor?" hissed Nimue. "You aren't powerful enough, are you? Poor mouseling... even a few brooms were too much for you to handle."
"Silence!"
Nimue fell silent as ordered, but the Apprentice could still see the insult in her eyes. She was right. She had the power, but he didn't, not in himself. But then, that didn't matter, as long as he had the right tools. He laid them out on a workbench one by one, naming each in turn, secretly enjoying having a captive audience.
The Dark One dagger. Excalibur. The Sorcerer's Hat. A drop of blood from the Savior. A drop of blood from the dragon's spawn. He was especially smug about the last two and the sleight of hand he had used to accomplish the theft undetected.
"Maleficent is not your common, or garden dragon," the Apprentice gloated. "She is a daughter of Titans. Her daughter is all that and more. She bears a touch of fate in her blood. Her blood, combined with that of the Savior, will grant me mastery of the hat."
Nimue rolled her eyes behind the mask.
"Not impressed? I'm not surprised. You're as much of a philistine as your current host. Ah, well, your opinions are unimportant." The Apprentice finished preparations for his spell. It would do more than enable him to light the flame — it would finally boost his own power to match the Dark Ones without saddling him with all the disadvantages of being the Dark One, all thanks to his master's hat.
With a circular sweep of the dagger over the hat, it unfolded from the box and turned on its side. Activated, it opened a mesmerizing vortex of magical energy, which the Apprentice focused on his captive Dark One with the aid of the spell circle containing them. Whether Nimue or Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One couldn't halt the stream of power rushing into the hat.
The Apprentice spoke the incantation to purify the magic and tame it to his will. He felt light-headed from the sudden influx of power, such that he barely noticed when inside the circle, Rumplestiltskin's heart (drained of magic, it was mortal and far beyond its natural span) gave out. The man beneath the darkness fell lifeless to the ground.
Once the transfer was complete, the Apprentice tested his new strength by reducing the corpse to ashes. Time for the next step...
"What did you think of the book?" Rumplestiltskin had brought a copy of the published version of Isaac's book back with him as a memento after he had wrapped things up the other realm. While Rumplestiltskin had been occupied with researching the magic in pen, ink, and book, Belle had been reading the books they had copied from Isaac's shelves, and now this glossy bestseller that Isaac was so invested in. Rumplestiltskin had to admit that as a physical product, it was well made and attractive, something slickly mass produced, unlike the more limited printing presses that were still a recent innovation in Schlaraffenland.
"It was all right, I suppose," was Belle's verdict. She sat up and set the book face down on the padded arm of her chair, leaning forward to share her impressions. "A twist on the histories we know. He made Snow White an outright villain, the Evil Queen in his version of the story. Not very subtle..."
Rumplestiltskin snorted. "No, Mr. Heller seems more the hammer over the head sort of writer."
Belle laughed. "That's one way to put it. He had characters based on us in his book, too. Well, I say characters, but more caricatures, to be honest."
Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"You were Sir Rumplestiltskin, light sorcerer, ogre slayer, and all-around insufferably heroic knight. I was your meek little wife, staying at home and tending the cabbages. And the baby." Belle looked annoyed. "He didn't have much for me to do except serve tea and sing your praises. One or two kidnappings so that you could show your courage. Actually, that part rings depressingly true to life..."
"I suppose it didn't occur to him to make you the heroic knight?"
Belle clapped her hands. "Oh yes. I used to daydream about that when I was a little girl. Going on adventures, saving those in need..."
"So, now you've done that in truth. Was it all that you dreamed of?" Rumplestiltskin asked curiously, never having imagined himself a hero. He had only wanted to save the children from the ogres and redeem his own cowardice. Belle wouldn't have had anything to need redeeming from.
"I did manage to see a great deal of the realm and meet many interesting people," she said. "That was even better than my dreams, because I found much more than I could ever have thought of on my own."
"Or Mr. Heller, it seems," Rumplestiltskin grumbled.
"I don't know how much he saw of me in his visions. I looked at the books, the ones he wrote out of duty, and not everything was there." Belle frowned slightly. "Prometheus wasn't mentioned at all. I wonder..."
"The Author implied that he was being used by Olympus. It would make sense that the Titans hide themselves from his visions. That could explain why Maleficent's secrets remain secrets." Rumplestiltskin hadn't pressed her on it, but she had confirmed to him afterwards that she had indeed been watching their meeting with Isaac Heller.
Lily's father? Maleficent had given him an amused look. Leave a woman her little secrets, Rumple.
But why now? Rumplestiltskin had asked. I had thought you weren't interested in children.
I have you to thank for that. Maleficent smiled a little bitterly at Rumplestiltskin's obvious surprise. Didn't you know? Olympus cursed me when I sided with my uncle, that I should never bear a child. It wasn't my choice.
Then... how?
Your potion of true love, Maleficent said simply, and then he understood.
Rumplestiltskin had sent Snow White's Prince Charming to hide the potion within the dragon, intending to retrieve it after the Dark Curse had been cast, when he would need it to bring magic to a land without magic. But the Dark Curse had not been needed nor cast, and sometime in the past few years, Maleficent must have extracted the potion herself and made good use of it.
I see, he had said, and asked no more about the father of her child. It wasn't his business, and now he didn't even have the excuse of needing the knowledge in order to lift the darkness from Lily.
He wrenched his thoughts back to the present. "With the Author out of the picture, that's one less tool the gods have to meddle with our lives."
"There's still the Wood Beyond," Belle reminded him. "Do you think they've given up on us?" She looked a little sad as she added, "I hate to think of Cogsworth and Lumiere being our enemies now."
"Enemies?" Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "Who said anything about enemies? They once said they wouldn't withdraw their friendship if I chose not to follow Nevethe's path... well, now I've chosen. If they come to the Dark Castle on their own account, I won't lock the door."
"They're worried, Rumple. Without the Queen, will the Wood even survive?" Belle took hold of his hand. "If you're their friend, then you should help them in their time of need..."
"They don't need me specifically," Rumplestiltskin mumbled stubbornly, but he knew in his heart that she was right. He owed them better than to abandon them to their doom. "And I am helping them, by distracting Olympus from invading a weakened Nevethe. Consider it a flanking maneuver..."
"If that's to be more than a mere rationalization, then we can't just hide in the Dark Castle." Belle regarded him sternly. "You've made one move, with the Author. What's next?"
"What's next..." Forced to give the question serious consideration, Rumplestiltskin sat down on the table to think. Belle slid up next to him, radiating encouragement. He smothered a smile. For her, he would try his best. "Well... this supposed prophecy. It's very vague. I suggest we narrow down precisely which infant is the terrifying threat, and focus our efforts there."
"And then what?" Belle's voice dropped to a whisper. "Rumple, what if it's our baby?"
"I won't... I won't let our child be the slave of destiny," he said grimly. "The shears..."
"But isn't that dangerous? If you start cutting the threads of fate, will everything unravel? What if she's to be a Savior, as you were meant to be..."
A short, quick shake of the head. "No. No, if there's saving to be done... we work together. To put the burden on one person, or two people... to save everyone else..." That was what Nevethe demanded of him and of Belle, tempting him to use the shears on himself, again! Had it not stuck the first time around? "We won't leave it to fate!"
Fate had cost him his child once before. It had taken centuries to find him again. Rumplestiltskin refused to lose another child to prophecy.
Belle sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe the shears don't do what we think they do. Maybe we simply don't understand the true nature of 'fate.' Does anyone?"
"Fate is embodied in three beings who are said to hold power over destiny," Rumplestiltskin mused. He summoned the golden shears to his hand and contemplated the power invested in them. "Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. These shears once belonged to Atropos, it's said."
"Well, then, we should ask them," Belle murmured.
"Us? Sweetheart, even the gods fear the power of fate. Why else is the Skyfather losing his mind over a prophecy?"
"We could ask nicely."
Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "I doubt they'd listen to the Dark One, no matter how sweetly I cajole them." Then again, Belle was Belle. "On second thought, maybe if you smile at them, they'll give up their secrets and thank you for the privilege!"
She did smile at him then, making him wish he had anything to tell her that would be worthy of that brightness. "I think you're a little biased."
"I think we'd have better luck talking to the prophet." Rumplestiltskin remembered his experiences with seers and the gift (or curse) of seeing fragments of the future. "But I expect it's a tangle of riddles that can be taken in a myriad ways, most of them wrong. The important thing is to understand what other people think the prophecy means, and what they do in reaction. We should try to avoid becoming trapped in it."
"Right. Well, I'll go visit my cousin and see what more I can find out from them," suggested Belle.
Rumplestiltskin nodded. "I'll see if Jefferson can pry any more details loose from his contacts."
Anything to get a handle on his unsettled panicky feeling of events spiralling out of control.
The potion was another of Merlin's inventions. Until now, it had been another thing that the Apprentice witnessed and learned the theory for without being having the power to put into practice. Everything changed with the acquisition of the runaway Dark One's magic. Even the ashes of the dead Rumplestiltskin added potency to the concoction.
The cauldron bubbled and spat, its potential barely contained. Soon, soon, the Apprentice promised as he stirred. One last ingredient to go. He summoned the book, floating it magically through the air rather than risking contamination if he touched it with his hands. It dropped into the cauldron with plop, then a sizzle as the pages went up in supernatural flames. Once the essence was absorbed, the Apprentice decanted the potion into a glass vial.
Then he went back to the workbench where a new, blank-faced dagger awaited. He had shaped it with the power of the Promethean flame from the broken sword and the dagger from the Dark One he had killed. Holding his breath in anticipation, the Apprentice uncapped the vial and carefully poured it over the blade. Magic enveloped the dagger in a haze of golden light. It hissed and flared, then subsided into the letters newly inscribed onto the surface. The Apprentice let out his breath in relieved exultation. He tossed aside the empty vial and picked up the dagger, turning the blade horizontally to read the name aloud.
"Belle."