"It was Merlin." Jefferson had sniffed out a name from somewhere and brought it back to the Dark Castle for Rumplestiltskin. "The Sorcerer. It's his prophecy that has Olympus all in a tizzy."

"What was the prophecy, then?" Rumplestiltskin paused in his pacing to stare at the Hatter.

"No one would say." Jefferson shrugged. "Sorry, old chap. His name was all I could get, and even that was like pulling teeth."

"Then I'll have to ask the Sorcerer in person," said Rumplestiltskin darkly. Deep within the memories of the Dark One, he felt Nimue stir.

"Good luck with that. He's been stuck in a tree for the past five centuries." Jefferson cut him off before Rumplestiltskin even opened his mouth. "No, no, and no. I promised Grace, after the last time..." His fingers twisted in the silk scarf around his neck.

Rumplestiltskin, who knew what scars lay underneath, nodded in understanding. Last time, had been Cora, and Wonderland, and madness. Grace, who had been left in Victor's care while Jefferson went on one more 'last job', had come to the Dark Castle to make a deal for her father's life. Rumplestiltskin didn't, as a rule, make deals with children, but the doctor had asked as well. "The name is enough, Jefferson. Go home to your family with my thanks."

Jefferson sighed, holding Rumplestiltskin's eyes a moment longer. "Don't forget that you also have a family. Be careful!" Then with a tip of his hat and a jaunty smile, he spun about and left.

Rumplestiltskin resumed his pacing, fingers twitching. His family was currently out of sight and away from the Dark Castle. He hated it. Hated feeling out of control of the situation. It's not yours to control, he told himself. He knew it wasn't right, wasn't fair to cling to them too tightly. He had known even back in his early days, when he had almost pushed his son into Pan's malicious grasp. These days he had the cricket's gentle counsel to help him come to terms with his fears. His boy was growing up and needed his independence. That was only natural. Rumplestiltskin was determined not to be his own father, who had kept his playmates captive and eternally young (until he discarded them in one of his lethal games).

So Bae was away with his friends (though to call Emma's parents that was pushing the limits of the word) and Belle had gone to see her cousin. They weren't jumping into portals or battling monsters. He had no reason to worry. He rubbed a finger over the crystal set in his ring. The link was quiet.

He had to find some distraction before he lost his mind. Time to pay Merlin a visit.

The famous sorcerer (commonly called the Sorcerer out of respect or caution or sheer ignorance) had been trapped in a tree outside the king's castle in Camelot by the first Dark One after their falling out. It was just past sunset when Rumplestiltskin stepped out of its shadow into the mortal world. He knelt down, stabbing the point of his dagger into the dirt. A circle inscribed itself around the tree, ensuring privacy for this meeting.

Rumplestiltskin stood up again, tucking the dagger away safely before stepping forward to Merlin's tree. He patted the trunk of the ancient, gnarled thing. "Hello, dearie."

He could feel the power thrumming under the bark. This was one of the rare full-grown true love trees to be found outside the bounds of Nevethe — uprooted by Nimue in her desperation and replanted in Camelot. What, other than his own love, could be powerful enough to trap Merlin himself for five centuries?

The soul of the sorcerer slumbered, fitfully dreaming of past and future. Sometimes he came out of his sleep with enough lucidity to project himself out of the tree and impart fragments of what he had seen. Rumplestiltskin had never put much stock in it, having his own seer's sight and prophecy to wrestle with. But never before had his own family been tangled into those visions. Whatever the truth of it, it was believed by those who could harm the ones Rumplestiltskin cared about.

He pressed both palms flat against the tree and leaned forward, almost as if bestowing a kiss, and whispered, "Merlin... Merlin. The Dark One summons thee, Merlin."

Somewhere deep in his memories, Nimue awoke. Rumplestiltskin straightened. He twisted his right hand in a spell, bringing the image of the first Dark One to the fore. She stood at his shoulder, hooded and cloaked, Vortigan's mask covering her face.

The bark shimmered, then melted away to uncover the man sleeping inside the tree. The face was deceptively young and handsome, framed by dark stubble shadowing his chin and nose, under a head of short-cropped hair.

"Merlin." Nimue's voice was more thought than sound, but the trapped sorcerer heard it nonetheless, his eyes blinking open. "It's been a long time."

"Dark One." Merlin's voice was husky from disuse. His gaze flickered from Rumplestiltskin to Nimue and back again, expression hardening as he recognized them. He betrayed no surprise or fear. Any lingering softness dried up quickly.

Something in Rumplestiltskin took offense. "I know you can see her, dearie. After all these years, you can't spare a single kind word for your once-beloved?"

Merlin kept his eyes focused on Rumplestiltskin. "I see only the Dark One, present and past. The one who murdered the woman I love."

Nimue ripped the mask from her face and tossed it aside. It vanished before it hit the ground. "Look at me and say that again!"

"She's not even real. A ghost conjured out of the Dark One's memories." Merlin's hand lifted in a gesture of banishment.

Rumplestiltskin blocked the spell. "Real enough. Everyone who's been the Dark One sacrifices a portion of their spirit to the darkness."

"The darkness that possesses you, as it did her. The real Nimue was lost centuries ago." Merlin's conviction did not falter.

"You truly have nothing to say to her?" Rumplestiltskin fought back a nightmare image of Belle looking at him with that coldness, that refusal to see him anymore. She won't. She wouldn't. Yet Nimue must have once believed the same of Merlin. "Not a thought to spare for her?"

"I've thought of Nimue every day." For the first time, Merlin's voice betrayed a hint of emotion. "That thing standing there is not Nimue!" This time, when he cast the banishment spell, Rumplestiltskin let it land.

Nimue cried out as if in pain, her ghostly image shattering into a thousand pieces of darkness that faded into nothing.

"Your judgement leaves something to be desired," Rumplestiltskin said at last. "Have you considered that she was chosen as much as you were? She drank from the Grail and lived, Merlin."

Merlin shook his head. "She had the potential for great goodness. When we met, Nimue had no thought of killing Vortigan, even after he had razed her home and slaughtered her family. Her only vengeance was her own survival. She wanted flowers, not blood. That was what the Grail saw in her."

"Because she had no power, no other recourse." Rumplestiltskin remembered a conversation with an old beggar who had turned out to be the previous Dark One. "Do you think because she planted flowers that she wasn't angry? That she didn't want to stop Vortigan?"

Merlin hesitated, his gaze dropping. "She was angry. When we came across the ruins of her village."

"Not the first, not even the second village ransacked and destroyed," said Rumplestiltskin. "She told you this. That was what he did. And you asked her to spare him!"

"I didn't want her to darken her heart. To become a monster!"

"Well, too bad, dearie." Rumplestiltskin shook his head, remembering a time when he would have agreed with Merlin. But that time was long gone. He had made the same choice Nimue had. "She stopped Vortigan. A man who would have gone on to burn more villages, destroy more lives."

"She succumbed to darkness." Merlin's voice was anguished, but unshaken in his judgement. "She murdered him!"

Rumplestiltskin sighed. "You had your chance to stop him more gently, yet... you didn't. You squandered those unending moments of your immortality growing flowers and indulging in a spot of healing, now and again."

"I was otherwise preoccupied with my own quest. I swore to free Prometheus..." Merlin replied, but with less certainty. "I tended to those I could when I could..."

"You spoke of light while ignoring the darkness that followed in your wake. Vortigan was looking for the Grail — the one you hid in the bottom of your chest and forgot about."

"I didn't know."

"You made no effort to find out, dearie. It seems the quest for the holy grail was not so holy as celebrated in song and story." Rumplestiltskin tsked. "How disappointing. Like so many other things in life... As Nimue found out, sadly, when she trusted in your love to be true."

"I begged her to stop. Warned her that darkness would take root within her."

"A price she was willing to pay." Rumplestiltskin understood, having paid the same price. He could never truly regret it. He had saved Bae and the other children, no matter what came afterwards. And as for Nimue, despite Merlin's revulsion at what she had done, she had never killed with such wanton cruelty as the merely mortal Vortigan.

Merlin, it seemed, did not. "And you know how heavy it became. A curse. You bear that burden yourself..."

"All the heavier because you turned her away. Instead of sharing her pain, you worsened it." He drew the dagger and rested the tip on Merlin's throat. "You made her your slave."

"I had to stop her reign of terror." The Sorcerer didn't flinch from the touch of metal.

"True love, indeed. When words failed, you resorted to force."

"She wouldn't listen."

"Did you ever consider that you might be wrong? That she might see things differently from the almighty Sorcerer?"

There was a long pause. Then, looking slightly ashamed, Merlin admitted, "I've been wrong before. Arthur... is not the king I thought he would be."

"Aha!" Rumplestiltskin crowed, flicking his hand away theatrically, the dagger vanishing back into the air. "Even though you had a vision about him?"

"I did."

"It seems to me that your prophecies may not be all they're cracked up to be." Rumplestiltskin steepled his hands under his chin and peered at Merlin, finally getting around to the main purpose of his visit. "Speaking of which, what poison have you been dripping in the ears of the gods, hmm?"

"I don't speak to the gods," Merlin said, not without a measure of haughtiness. "My power has always been in the service of mortals."

"Barring a Titan or two," corrected Rumplestiltskin.

"One who broke ranks to steal the gift of fire for humankind." Merlin grimaced. "Not that I achieved much success in that quarter, either."

"Well, you seem to have inspired my wife." Rumplestiltskin suppressed a twinge of jealousy. Maybe she would have been better suited to someone with light magic. It was only Nevethe's meddling that had set Belle in Rumplestiltskin's path. "She managed to break his chains."

Merlin started. "Your wife? Who...?"

"You've been sleeping too long. That's old news." Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure if he should be comforted or offended by the look on Merlin's face. "A princess of Avonlea. It seems not everyone is as repulsed by a touch of darkness as you are!"

Merlin blinked. "A vision showed me that Prometheus had been freed at last, but not who... Your wife? It was your wife?"

"Indeed. Belle has a way of achieving feats others call impossible."

"Then I owe her gratitude," Merlin said slowly.

"Which apparently you repaid by painting a target on her back!" Rumplestiltskin was suddenly infuriated by the Sorcerer's obtuseness. "One of your prophecies found its way to the heights of Olympus."

"I had no such intention—"

"Intent is meaningless," Rumplestiltskin snapped. He spun away from the tree, fists clenched at his sides. He forced himself to take a breath and exhale before turning back to the Sorcerer. "Just tell me about your damned prophecy."

Merlin's eyes went distant as he remembered, "A wisp. There was a wisp. I asked for news of the world, and she stayed a while with me. She may have followed me into a vision..."

"A wisp? They love nothing better than to lead fools astray!" Peasants all across the Enchanted Forest warned their children not to follow the dancing lights, but it seemed Camelot had a different tradition.

"Or to their destinies," Merlin objected. "Sometimes they can be mischievous, but only in a small, harmless way."

"Harmless?" Rumplestiltskin wanted to wring the man's neck. "My wife's cousin was nearly killed because of this prophecy, and my wife may be in the same danger."

"Killed?" Merlin sighed. "That would be of no use against a true prophecy, and a false prophecy is better ignored."

"Not everyone is quite so fatalistic, dearie."

Merlin closed his eyes. "The prophecy... it wasn't like that. It was more of a memento mori. A word to the wise, 'Remember that you too shall die.' God or mortal, all things end in time."

Rumplestiltskin reflected that while Nevethe had never needed to be reminded by anyone else of that, Zeus was another matter, obsessed with preserving his own power and position. "Meaning is in the ears that hear, and it seems the Skyfather heard something rather more concrete than that! To wit, a child born to end him specifically."

"The child was symbolic."

"Are you certain of that?"

"It could have been literal," Merlin admitted. "But the face was obscured."

"Obscured!" Fate must be joking with him again, thought Rumplestiltskin furiously. Damned by a piece of nothing. "A presentiment of imminent doom. That's all?"

"Zeus has spent most of his rule with one eye over his shoulder. He remembers what happened to his father, and his father's father. I doubt any prophecy of mine could move him to any action he had not already plotted," said Merlin. "Prophecy merely provides cover for his atrocities."

"'Atrocities', is that what you call it?" Rumplestiltskin laughed bitterly. "As above, so below. A thousand years of power, and you did no more to stop Olympus than you did to stop Vortigan. No mystical dagger to restrain the king of the gods?"

"Do you imagine I ever had that kind of power, even before I was trapped in a tree?"

"Did you even try?" Rumplestiltskin had done everything to save his firstborn child. He vowed to do no less for his secondborn. "If Nimue had borne you a child, perhaps things would have been different..." Merlin and Nimue had both gained their magic from the Grail. He didn't doubt that Zeus would have felt just as threatened by their child.

"Wait." Merlin's eyes widened. "Are you saying... your wife...?"

"Yes. Do keep up!"

"I see." Merlin's expression turned regretful. "Then... then I am sorry my careless words have endangered her. But there may also be hope in them, if the prophecy is a true one. You share true love with a woman with a talent for finding a way around the impossible. Prometheus could prove a powerful ally. And as I have also seen, the Wood Beyond favors you. You may have a chance."

If Rumplestiltskin threw in his lot with Nevethe, that was what Merlin meant. That there was potentially a war brewing between the Wood and Olympus. But he was still the same coward he had always been. "I have no intention of entangling myself in a war."

"It may be too late, already." And perhaps that was as true as any of his prophecies.

Because that was when the crow flew through the warded circle and landed on a branch just above Merlin's head. The crow that spoke a name. "Rumplestiltskin!"

One of Maleficent's messengers, came the sinking realization. This far from home, it couldn't be good.

"Rumplestiltskin. Your wife and son have been taken to Tartarus." Before the words could penetrate, the crow dissolved into inky splotches and then nothing, the spell pushed to its limits to reach Camelot from the Enchanted Forest.

Tartarus. Rumplestiltskin froze in shock. Questions raced through his mind in a haze of panic. All the warnings that came to this point seemed to stab him in accusation. He should have done more to protect them. He should have kept them in the Dark Castle, or at least gone with them. Belle and the dragon's children all had strong magic, but they lacked experience. How could he have been so careless?

He closed his eyes, touching the crystal ring to his forehead, searching through the link. It was something he and Belle mutually agreed to keep quiescent in their day to day lives, out of respect for each other's privacy, but it should have opened in case of an emergency... such as being taken to Tartarus! There was nothing. It felt like deep, dreamless sleep. A lie. Or was it the crow that was the liar?

Rumplestiltskin turned to Merlin. "You. You will look for them for me." He didn't trust the Sorcerer's prophecies, but he didn't doubt his powers of far vision — cooped up in the tree, Merlin would have had plenty of time to practice that skill.

Merlin's expression was not unsympathetic. "Yes, all right. I've seen your son before, in visions, but I don't know your wife."

"Her name is Belle." Rumplestiltskin pushed through the spell binding the Sorcerer and grabbed him by the hand. "Here. Together, our power should be sufficient to broach the divide between the lands of the living and dead..." He reached for Merlin's magic.

The Sorcerer shied away instinctively at the touch of darkness.

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth and forced the contact. "Work with me, dammit. I will not lose them again!"

"Sorry." A breath of apology, then Merlin's light seemed to extend gingerly towards the Dark One. The Sorcerer closed his eyes, turning his vision inward. Rumplestiltskin followed through the psychic link he had established, concentrating on thoughts of Baelfire and Belle.

Belle! Bae! he shouted mentally, hoping that somehow they could hear him and respond.

Merlin's search ranged outwards, skimming across Camelot to the Enchanted Forest, only to find nothing. Their thoughts lingered near the Dark Castle, then Maleficent's fortress, but caught nothing but faint memories of souls no longer present. They pushed through the shell of earth into the night lands of the dead.

Ware Hades, came Merlin's whispered thought.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. They were trespassers here, and so were Belle and Bae if they still lived (he refused to contemplate the alternative). The search continued in silence.

His wife and child were nowhere in the Underworld of the restless shades.

Deeper, urged Rumplestiltskin. To whatever hell they may be trapped in...

The walls of Tartarus were not so easy for the living to breach. Even with both sorcerers joining their magic, they only caught fleeting glimpses of what lay beyond. Then—

There! That's her. Rumplestiltskin felt weak with relief at the sudden vibrant sense of his wife's presence. She was still alive. Then it was gone again, amidst an ominous clanging of bells.

We can't stay. Merlin was already pulling away. You triggered an alarm. They'll be sending demons...

Rumplestiltskin struggled to stay. She's here. I have to go to her!

You can't! You're not even here, not really, but she is, and if the demons find you, they may trace her through you...

Realizing that Merlin was right, Rumplestiltskin reluctantly released the thread that connected him to Belle and let the Sorcerer yank him back to the sunlit lands, much like a fisherman landing a fish on the line.

Rumplestiltskin returned to himself with a gasp. "If spirit travel is insufficient, then I have no choice but to go in the flesh."

"That is not a realm you can reach through shadows," Merlin pointed out.

"I know that." Dead is dead would not be a law of magic if everyone could go traipsing back and forth between the worlds of the living and the dead. But there were always exceptions. Gods, Titans, and demons could open the gates of the Underworld. A few restless shades sometimes escaped to haunt their murderers, or their kin, or a place whose memories kept them from moving on.

"Then how will you get there? Are you planning to die?" Merlin's challenge was not serious, but something in the Dark One took it so.

"No, it is you who will die." And it was Nimue swimming again to the surface, her voice speaking to her true love. "A tear trapped you in the tree. A tear could free you to walk the living realms again. Or..."

Merlin's eyes widened. "No."

"Blood on the tree for power, your death to call the ferryman," whispered Nimue through Rumplestiltskin's mouth.

"Nimue!"

But it was Rumplestiltskin who admonished him, "Ah, ah, ah! This is not Nimue, as you so astutely pointed out earlier. We are taking you to her. The real Nimue, who waits for you in the Underworld."

Because that was another soul the Dark One had sensed in passing, like calling to like. The restless shade of the first Dark One, who still had unfinished business with Merlin. Rumplestiltskin himself held no particular animosity towards the Sorcerer, who had been imprisoned inside a tree since before his birth. It was only that their paths converged now in a moment of need.

"You have lived too long." Nimue again. "You told me that the moments of your life piled up like grains of sand in a desert until one was indistinguishable from the other, meaningless. You forged a sword to cut away your immortality."

"And you argued against it, wishing to spend eternity at my side." Merlin's voice had gone distant, as if speaking from a long-lost memory. As if he had forgotten who it was that truly stood before him.

"One of life's little ironies that she was the one who died," Rumplestiltskin interjected, calling them back into the present. "While you outlived everyone you once knew. She could have killed you back then, but she didn't. She left you with your empty heart and your withered hopes... what is left for you in this world?"

"Camelot. King Arthur..." Merlin spoke without conviction.

"They no longer heed your counsel," said Rumplestiltskin. "Your prophecies have failed them. Arthur is not the hero who will lead his people to either peace or prosperity. They don't need you. They don't want you. They prefer the legend in the tree and would only resent your interference if you were freed..." And he didn't know if that was his own Sight speaking, or merely an educated guess.

Either way, Merlin looked shaken by this stark statement of his own irrelevance, but didn't dispute it. "Perhaps you have a point."

That one small spark of acceptance was enough for the Dark One, no matter how vividly Rumplestiltskin could hear Belle and Bae screaming at him to stop, that this wasn't right. But the instant he drew the Dark One dagger, the imagined voices became muffled, easy to ignore. It was Nimue's rage that drove him now (and always, underneath, his own fears). Through her it was easy to shove the blade between Merlin's ribs and into his heart. A twist of the knife and out again.

Blood on the tree.

He shut his eyes against the Sorcerer's grunt of pain and felt for the gush of magic. As the latest in the line of the Dark Ones, Rumplestiltskin claimed the right of a lawful heir to gather up the power bleeding from the tree. He hoped desperately that it would be enough to save his family.

Blood on the blade. The ersatz Nimue took the helm, moving the Dark One to lick the metal clean. One dead, one dying, and one living soul bound for the moment in their death.

He could see the ferry even through his closed eyelids, floating on a river that only existed for the dead and the ferryman who carried them to the Underworld. He stepped aboard, a stowaway hiding his heartbeat under a shroud of death.

Camelot faded away. They entered a realm of endless dusk, the sky tinted red and casting a diffuse, gloomy light over the landscape. The river wound through a wood of dead trees, then to a reflection of the Camelot they had just left, a town and castle with washed out colors, populated by the shades of the dead and their memories.

The ferryman, a tall cloaked figure who had not spoken a single word on their entire voyage, took them to a wooden pier and nodded at them to disembark.

Nimue was the first to move. A hand, seemingly appearing from the air itself, reached out to pull her ashore. Then the hand became an arm, then the rest of the body followed. Brought face to face with—

"Nimue." Two identical voices spoke in unison. Two touched and became one.

Rumplestiltskin felt a pang as if a fragment of himself was torn away. They had been joined together as the Dark One for so long that the boundaries had blurred. He stood back, so as not to intrude on the reunion.

Nimue reached in turn for the Sorcerer. "Merlin..."

"Nimue." This time the name came out in a choked sob. "I'm sorry."

Rumplestiltskin watched as the two embraced. Nimue whispered something in Merlin's ear, and it felt odd not to hear her words in his own mind. But already, they were fading. Soon, they were gone.

Gone wherever the dead go when they leave the cares of life behind.

Rumplestiltskin poked at the other soul fragments lurking in the darkness, but none of them had Nimue's force of presence. Mostly they were content to sleep, their memories seeping into the dreams of the current Dark One. They did not call out to the shades of those they had once belonged to.

He was alone in the Underworld.

In a different part of the Underworld, Zelena roamed through a cemetery. She stooped to look at the headstones, but none bore any name she was interested in. It was strange, being dead. Lonely. Doubly bereft. The child in her belly was gone, its soul abandoning its mother upon death.

It felt like she had been walking forever, up and down endless lines of grave markers, but what lay beneath? The physical bodies were buried by the living in the earth of the living world. What power erected these stones here where nothing grew or decayed? Perhaps it was the mist that crept along the ground and turned every direction into a disorienting gray. She didn't know how long she had been there when she heard footsteps.

She turned to see a stranger coming down the path towards her. Zelena reached warily for her magic. It was different here, and her grasp of it was uncertain.

The stranger — a light-skinned man dressed in blacks and grays — stopped and smirked at her. "You won't find him here."

"What do you know about it?" Zelena called fire to her palm. It was not as strong as she would have liked, but she didn't let her worries show on her face.

The man chuckled. His hair burst into bluish flames. Taking a step forward, he reached out to clasp her hand. The fire dissipated at his touch. "I know you, Zelena. I've long admired you from afar..."

Well, that didn't sound stalkerish at all. Then the penny dropped. "You're Hades!"

His grin broadened. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, my dear." He bowed over her hand and kissed it before letting her go. "Despite the unfortunate circumstances of your demise."

Zelena narrowed her eyes at him. Was he mocking her? "Did you have something to do with that? You're the god of the Underworld. You have a legion of demons at your beck and call..."

Hades stepped back in mock offense. "You wound me!"

Zelena crossed her arms. "You'll have to forgive me for being suspicious. You wouldn't be the first to ply me with sweet words, then stab me in the back."

"Believe me, I know the feeling." His voice oozed with sympathy. Not that Zelena allowed herself to be taken in, but it was nice to imagine that someone cared, for once. "Especially coming from those who should be family..."

Now he was going too far. He was a god! Zelena opened her mouth to say as much.

Hades held up a hand. "God or mortal, injustice afflicts us all. Just look at my brother. I think you know what it's like to grow up in the shadow of the golden child. To be despised and neglected when your sibling is everyone's favorite..."

"My mother always favored Regina," Zelena couldn't resist confiding. "Cora abandoned me as a baby, but dear Regina was her pampered pet. Even her name! 'Queen'!"

Hades was nodding along at each point. "Grossly unfair, I agree. Why, just look at you. You have twice your sister's gifts, but no one appreciates your worth. I mean, same. My brother got everything and I got banished to the Underworld. He's worshipped as the king of the gods, and I oversee a pit of miserable shades!" He winked at Zelena. "Present company excluded, of course."

Zelena couldn't help but be charmed. No one else had even made the effort for her before. She smiled back. "Yes, it's all terribly unfair."

Hades gestured, inviting her to walk with him. "Tell me about it."

And she did. Zelena let it all pour out, her envy, her unhappiness, her moment of hope with her Dark One — and how that hope had been dashed.

Hades patted her hand, which somehow he had wound up holding. "That's over, now," he soothed. "Rumplestiltskin was never worthy of you, anyway. What is he? Some jumped-up peasant who stumbled across a mystical dagger."

Zelena sniffled a little, her face scrunching up as she remembered him. "But he loved me..."

"Ah, but did he love you on his own initiative, or did you have to open his eyes for him?" Hades shot her a knowing look when she made to deny it. "I don't blame you, but wouldn't it be nice if you didn't have to?"

Zelena looked away. She muttered, "Some things are too good to be true."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right people. All I'm asking is that you give me a chance," Hades wheedled.

"Why should I? You want something from me. Don't pretend." Zelena wasn't that stupid. He might as well have been waving a sign announcing "I have ulterior motives".

Hades sighed. "Rumbled." Then he smiled again. "But I've always found intelligence an admirable trait. Don't you agree?"

Zelena snorted.

"Just because I want something from you doesn't mean we can't be good together," Hades argued. "Everyone wants something. We can help each other and both benefit."

Well, she thought, I'm dead do I have to lose? She gave him a sidelong glance. "No need to beat around the bush. Just spit it out before you choke on your own cleverness."

Hades chuckled. "I like you." He bent down to one of the gravestones, making a show of brushing off some dust. Then he straightened, one hand still casually resting on the top of the gravestone. "The fact of the matter is, although I rule the Underworld, it is also my prison. Do you know the story of how that came to be?"

Zelena only had vague memories of things the Timers had taught her. She had never given it much thought before. "Something about a dispute with your brother?"

"Zeus," hissed Hades. "Indeed. He killed our father and framed me for the murder. He had his pet Author write the story to paint himself in a good light and cast me as the villain. He got everything he ever wanted, and I got... this." He glanced around at their surroundings pointedly.

"Just like me and my sister." Then Zelena smiled. "But Regina didn't get everything her own way. She was kicked off the throne and sent into exile."

"Ah, but she's alive and you're not." Hades brought his hand to his chest. "Nor am I, not fully. Zeus stopped my heart. That's why I'm stuck in this dismal realm."

"Not much to be done, is there?" Zelena shrugged. "Dead is dead."

"Not necessarily. If, say, my heart were to be restarted, I would gain my full powers again." Hades smirked. "And as a god, restoring someone to life is only a snap of my divine fingers away."

Zelena's lips parted. "Oh." Yes, that had possibilities. "And you would be willing to do that for me?"

"For the woman who broke my curse, of course I would." Hades reached for her hand and squeezed it. "I think you might just be the one to do it..."

"How? How do I break your curse?"

"Why, true love's kiss. What else?" Hades met her eyes earnestly. "What do you say? Do you think you could find it in your heart to love me? No one is more hated than the Lord of the Underworld. It would take a very special woman to see past my name and find the man beneath."

"I don't know..." Zelena hesitated. If she promised something she couldn't deliver, the Lord of the Underworld could easily make her afterlife a literal hell.

"If it's that you still mourn for what you lost, they say time heals all wounds." His eyes flashed. "And once I am healed, then we can avenge ourselves on the ones who took everything from us. We can win back our rightful places, and rule together as king and queen, not only of this realm but Olympus as well. What do you say?"

Zelena shook her head. "I'm sorry. I... I want to trust you, but... I just don't know."

Hades looked disappointed, but he nodded. "I understand. But if you change your mind, and decide you want to give it a go, I'll wait for you. Call my name and I'll come to you." He vanished in a blaze of blue fire.