Belle stumbled through the portal. The world vanished from around her, including the ground. She gasped out a cry of surprise as she dropped like a stone and took in a noseful of foul-smelling air. Then she splashed down into a pool of thick liquid. She closed her eyes just in time against the flying droplets of—

—blood, she realized as she sank beneath the surface. She paddled and kicked frantically as soon as she oriented herself enough to know which way was up. Head finally breaking through to air, she continued to tread water while using one hand to clear her hair, sticky with blood, from her face. She blinked her eyes open again, coughing and spitting to expel the blood in her mouth, trying not to gag at the taste.

"Where is my daughter?"

Belle turned her head to find Maleficent standing majestically on a piece of rock protruding from the sea of blood that dominated this corner of Tartarus. There were hundreds or even thousands of hells, she remembered from her studies. They did not conform to the laws of time and space common to the living lands, but were magically linked to and partially shaped by the souls they contained. There were no stars or moon or sun in the lands of the dead. There was a sky here, glowing with a baleful red tint that made the blood appear almost black.

Belle looked around and said carefully, trying not to breathe through her nose, "She... she must have arrived in a different part of Tartarus..." She saw the Fury flying in low circles above them and wondered why she was still here. "Maybe Alec knows..."

Maleficent glanced up, then returned her gaze to Belle. "Why are you here? Why risk the dangers of Tartarus in your condition?"

"I—" Belle wanted to say she had no choice, but the words wouldn't come. The grip of the dagger on her soul was too strong. "I have my reasons."

Maleficent's eyes narrowed and she pointed the tip of her staff at Belle. A bubble of magic lifted Belle out of the liquid and deposited her on another rocky island.

Belle pulled herself to her feet, one hand on the rock for balance, then tried to wring out her clothes. "Thank you." She had half-expected Maleficent to attack her. Belle had come to the end of the orders issued by the Apprentice (bar the ongoing commands not to resist and not to reveal her servitude) and suspected he hoped for her victims to dispose of her, thus keeping his own hands clean. "You... you're not trying to kill me."

"I'm keeping my options open," Maleficent returned dryly.

Belle sighed. She gathered her magic and flicked a hand, trying a small spell to clean herself. It fizzled. That part wasn't unexpected, but it did worry her. Especially when the Fury alit at the other end of the rock, staring at Belle with glowing eyes.

"I thought you were going to find Marceline," Belle said wearily to the demon. She tested the magic keeping her cousin's heart in her 'failsafe'. It hadn't failed, much to her relief. The Apprentice's commands had not resulted in any deaths. Yet. She gestured vaguely. "She's still alive out there. Somewhere."

"Find her, yeah, I'll do that." The demon glared at her. "Only it's kind of meaningless when she doesn't have her own heart inside her."

Belle had enough freedom back to return the heart, and maybe enough magic to fight if Alec decided to extract her revenge then and there. But the Fury was native to this plane, making Belle's odds significantly weaker than in the Enchanted Forest. She glanced at Maleficent, but doubted the dragon would intervene either way.

The demon subsided into her human form. "Listen. We all know how these things are done." She went down on one knee. "I'll give you my oath. Eternal servitude, if that's what it would take."

Belle swallowed. Was that how it was for demons? Out of the corner of her eye, she could feel Maleficent watching them intently. "You would do that?"

Alec bowed her head. "For the return of Marceline's heart, and a promise not to harm her, whether by your hand or by your word or by your silence, from now until the end of time." She recited the terms as if by rote. When Belle didn't answer immediately, a faintly desperate note entered the demon's plea, "You know what I am. I can be of use to you. I know my way around and if it comes to a fight, I'm as good as you're likely to get down here..."

It was true. With a guide, it would be much easier to find Bae and the others. And with Belle's magic unreliable at the moment, an ally could make the crucial difference between success and failure (no matter how much she was terrified at the thought of failing the people she had been forced to betray). But no. Not an ally. A slave. That was what Alec was offering.

I could accept her service for now, Belle told herself. And free her later, and explain everything. Even if she and Marceline never forgive me, at least everyone would be safe.

"Please," Alec whispered into the silence stretching between them.

"I," Belle began, then stopped, furious at herself for even considering it. After what the Apprentice had done to her. When she knew how wrong it was. When she had a choice. She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. "No. I don't want that from you..." Seeing the sudden rigidity in the Fury's shoulders, Belle hurried to amend her statement to, "That isn't what I want from anyone, ever."

"One wonders how much of all this is what you want," Maleficent cut in, but Belle forced herself to ignore her.

Belle focused on Alec. "I want to make a different deal."

"What is it?" Alec asked in a low voice without raising her head.

"I want... peace." She wanted forgiveness, but that was too much, too presumptuous, when she couldn't offer truth in return. "I give Marceline's heart into your keeping, for you to guard until you can return it to her body..."

"You'll lift the spells on it?" Alec checked.

Belle nodded. "She will be free of me. In return, you promise not to retaliate against me or those I care about. What was it you said... 'not by your hand or your word or your silence, until the end of time.'"

Alec was silent for a long moment. Then, a tiny nod of the bent head. "All right."

"Thank you." Belle reached for the demon's hand, tugging her to her feet. Once they were both standing again, Belle turned the touch into a handshake. "It's a deal?"

Alec looked taken aback, then belatedly returned the handshake. "It's a deal."

A smile broke out on Belle's face despite everything. Relief at not having to fight, relief that at one thing could be set right. She retrieved the heart from her ensorcelled sleeve. Another breath of relief that she was able to remove her failsafe cleanly. She handed the heart to Alec. "Here."

Alec nodded brusquely. She took the heart and vanished it with a flick of her hand. Then she turned and shifted shape, taking to the air halfway through the transformation. She was soon lost in the eternal gloom of Tartarus.

"What are you playing at, girl?" was Maleficent's faintly irritated commentary. Whatever the truth of her feelings under that calm mask, it was kept tightly locked away.

"I'm not playing," muttered Belle, the smile evaporating from her face as the circumstances crashed back into the foreground. She tried to match Maleficent's detached air. "I'm thinking."

"Are you?" Maleficent raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you let the Fury go? She was right about being useful."

"I don't keep slaves," Belle snapped.

Maleficent sighed. "There's some leeway between keeping a slave and banishing her like some unwelcome guest..."

"I didn't..."

"Perhaps you might have bargained for specific services or a future favor," Maleficent suggested. Then she shrugged. "Though as I don't know your purpose in bringing us all here, or why you decided to join us, perhaps you do know best..."

Belle winced. "Actually, I need to look for Baelfire. And Emma and Lily, who should both be with him, whichever hell they landed in. I was thinking we could work together for now."

"And I should trust you not to betray me?" Maleficent asked.

"I have no intention of betraying you," Belle said. Intent is meaningless, came a ghost of Rumple's voice in her head. "But look around. What other living soul do you see here? I think our best chance is cooperation."

"And once we find them?" Maleficent didn't say "if we find them," a bit of optimism which Belle was grateful for.

"I intend them no harm," Belle said as firmly as she could. Surely the Apprentice wouldn't risk venturing into Tartarus himself, and the dagger's power to command did not cross realms, according to Rumple. She could feel herself how the bond was weakened (though not weak enough for her to free herself from existing commands). "I want to help them."

"And if they won't accept your 'help', after what you've done?"

"I... I'll figure something out."

Maleficent nodded slowly. Her expression had eased from the hard mask that Belle had met when they first fell into Tartarus, but Belle wasn't sure why. For now, it was enough that they had a common goal ahead of them.

The Apprentice stepped out of his cave, but instead of a forest in Camelot, he walked into a beam of divine light. Then he was blinking down the length of a grand colonnade, glowing white mist wafting in from the open sides. It was a style of architecture from an age ago in the mortal lands, but this was a timeless realm. The domain of the gods.

"Olympus," he breathed. At last. So many lifetimes of hoping for recognition, and it seemed his due was finally within reach.

"Welcome, child." The genial, avuncular voice came from the far end of the colonnade. A handsome young man stepped forward into view, clad in a shining white chiton trimmed in gold, a matching chlamys thrown over his shoulder — a style as archaic as the columns.

The Apprentice recognized him at once, though they had never met in person before. Zeus. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "My lord. They have all been banished, these potential children of prophecy, along with their mothers, barring one, and that one is harmless. Snow White has no gift of magic to threaten your order."

"Rise," Zeus said graciously, touching his shoulder in encouragement. "You have done well."

"Thank you," murmured the Apprentice. He clambered back to his feet, watching as Zeus paced, the god gazing off into the mists to look into his domain.

"But tell me. The dragon's child, did you bring me the name of its father?"

The Apprentice shook his head. "I'm afraid not. None of my divinations bore fruit."

Zeus sighed. "It should not have been possible at all."

"I suspect the Dark One's meddling in that matter."

Zeus stopped and turned to the Apprentice. "You're sure he is not the father?"

"Impossible." The Apprentice shook his head again. "It would require true love, and that is something Rumplestiltskin only shares — in its romantic sense — with Belle of Avonlea. It is a bond persistent enough that the demons of the Wood Beyond fixed their sights on that couple for their schemes."

Zeus frowned. "It should then have been impossible for him to beget a child upon the witch Zelena, yet it happened."

"A fluke," the Apprentice argued. "One time in all of known reality, out of all the possible histories." At least she was safely dead, along with her misbegotten offspring.

"And who is to say it is not the same with Maleficent?"

"The Dark One's bride would surely have known, yet she was as ignorant as I in this matter." The Apprentice hoped his master would be satisfied with that. He waited to be invited to the inner reaches of Olympus. Surely, this time, he would be rewarded with a place among the gods? A lesser place, of course, but...

Zeus resumed his pacing. "Is it enough? I have stayed within the law. The fates have no claim to withdraw their favor and turn the mortals against me, and yet... "

"The prophecy may be false," the Apprentice tried, though he didn't believe it himself. Merlin was a true seer, however flawed his interpretations were of his own visions.

Zeus grunted and waved a hand in denial. "No, I can feel it in my bones. The fates mock me. They would ensnare me as they did my father and his father before him."

"You have the wisdom of experience, my lord," the Apprentice reassured him. "You won't fall into the same traps. All the monsters and children of prophecy are sealed away in Tartarus now. There's no one to threaten your rule. The fates are even more strictly bound by their laws. They may not act directly against you."

"Sealed away... but Tartarus falls under the rule of Hades," Zeus said. "So far, his interests have aligned with mine. My brother wants them locked away as much as I do."

"Then all is well."

"But he hates and envies me," Zeus reminded him. "If he should ever break free of the Underworld... he might loose those of the imprisoned who hate me more than they hate him, in hopes of provoking a battle where he comes out the strongest in the end."

"Break free? Surely that is impossible. Hades is not one to find love, either in the receiving or the giving."

"Yet this seems to be a season of impossible things... Nevethe has fallen."

"Their loss is our gain, my lord," said the Apprentice. "The Wood Beyond has always been a thorn in our side." It was presumptuous of him to claim an "our", but surely he had earned some level of belonging, even if he hadn't yet been admitted past the threshold of Olympus.

"Or perhaps it is an omen that I am next." Zeus's face darkened. "No, I must be sure."

"Of course, my lord." The Apprentice thought privately that it was impossible to ever be completely sure of anything, with free will on the one hand and sheer chance on the other. But Zeus had to know that, too. It was simply that he had enough power to see further down the road and control more factors than mortals.

"You, child. Your loyalty and long service deserve consideration." Zeus broke into a smile. "Yes, you will do nicely. I have every confidence..."

"My lord?" An uneasy feeling rose in the pit of his stomach. This did not sound like ascension to the ranks of the gods. It sounded like...

"I have a new task for you."

"Emma! Lily!" Waist-deep in mud, Baelfire shouted for his friends, not caring who else might be lurking here. Almost anyone would be an improvement, but there was no one in sight, only a seemingly endless expanse of wet ground dotted with patches of long grass. The grassy patches were no more solid than the rest. He had tried pulling himself onto one only to have the grass sink into the mud, churned under with the rest of him.

The sky overhead was a deep red, as if the sun had just set over the horizon, striated with a few wispy clouds. The air smelled of decay, suffocating and warm. Baelfire was fairly sure he wasn't in Schlaraffenland anymore. There must have been some kind of magic... he had vague memories of waking up to someone in his room, and then... he remembered a nightmarish storm that had swept him up.

Then light, and the ground giving way under his feet. He had panicked and thrashed about, trying to climb out of the muck, but only embedded himself deeper into the mud before he calmed himself. He should have known better — there was quicksand on Neverland, dangerous beaches and marshes that Pan sometimes used for his games — but surprise and instinct had been his undoing.

"Papa! Belle! Eskereye! Otulissa!" He went through a litany of names, even trying his father's true name, until he had shouted himself hoarse. He looked up at the sky again, envying those with the gift of flight. He whispered to himself, there being no one else, "Where am I?"

It must be another realm, or Papa would have heard him. Unless something had happened.

"No, no, not again!" He closed his eyes, trying not to cry. He had to get himself out. He took a few deep breaths, reminding himself that he could get out, that he was lighter than the mud and wouldn't drown, not if he was careful about it. If he leaned back to float on the surface and shifted his legs slowly, with patience he could extract himself and gradually make his way free of the quicksand. "You can do this." He looked again, this time searching for the best direction to make his escape. There must be solid ground somewhere.

He was surrounded by marsh. A darker line of hills sloped up on the horizon, but so far away! Still, it was something. He was about to slowly orient himself towards the hills when he saw movement in the distance. At first he thought it might be some large animal, and he worried about predators, but then it came closer and he realized it was a boat, with what looked like two people on board. One stood at the stern with a single large oar while the other sat on a thwart closer to the fore.

"Hey! Over here! Help!" Baelfire had regained enough of his voice to call out. He waved a hand in the air for emphasis.

The distant heads seemed to turn in his direction. The oar dipped into the mud as if it were water (and perhaps it was, Baelfire thought, just muddy water where they were) and the boat sculled closer, close enough that he saw the strangeness in it. The mud dissolved and became liquid in the boat's path.

Magic, he realized, but the people in the boat didn't appear to be casting any spells. Probably the boat itself was enchanted.

"Stay put, lad," called the man at the oar.

It took a moment to realize why the voice was so familiar. It couldn't be! Baelfire squinted, trying to get a clearer look at the man. The clothes matched, and the face... "C-Captain Hook?!"

The man started. His hands stilled on the oar as he stared back. "Baelfire? Is it you, lad?"

The woman gasped, turning to look at him as well.

"Am I... am I dead?" Baelfire asked. How could he be dead? He didn't remember dying, not even any pain or...? Had he been poisoned? When the captain took too long to answer, Baelfire could only think the worst. "I am dead, then. This is... this is the Underworld..."

"This is Tartarus," said the captain. Then, "But you're not dead, lad. I don't know how, and you shouldn't be here, but you're alive. I can see it in your aura..."

And how could the pirate know how to see auras? It must be something dead people could do, thought Baelfire, because Captain Hook was definitely dead.

Then the woman spoke up, "Did your father...?"

"My father?" Baelfire echoed blankly. What did she know about his father? Then it struck him that her voice was familiar, too, but in a more distant way than the captain's. A dreadful suspicion began to grow in him, but he had to ask, "Who are you?"

And the way the woman's face changed at the question was almost confirmation enough. "It's been so long... "

"Mama?" It came out in a choked whisper, but the woman nodded. "You... you left us."

"Oh, son, I'm sorry. I should have been there, not punished you because..." She lowered her gaze. "Because I hated your father..."

"We thought you were dead," Baelfire whispered.

"Well, I was in the end. No thanks to..." She cut herself off and sighed.

Baelfire looked away. "I know what he did."

Captain Hook cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, too, lad. For toying with your father instead of telling him the truth. It wasn't fair to you. And I'm sorry that I ever sold you to Pan rather than returning you to the Enchanted Forest. I was blinded by my hatred..."

"You did bring me back eventually." And he was grateful, even if it had been because of Gaston with his schemes to kill the Dark One and steal his magic. It had led to finding his father again (the real one under the curse) and eventually freeing the other Lost Boys.

Hook nodded. He maneuvered the boat closer. "Let's get you out of there." He took the long oar and pushed the end of it towards Baelfire. "See if you can grab on..."

The magic in the boat had loosened the mud around his legs enough that Baelfire was able to extricate himself with slow, careful adjustments, and he let himself be pulled over the side onto the boat. He felt grimy and heavy with all the mud still clinging to his clothes, but relief made his spirit light — even if he was somehow in hell, at least he wasn't alone and immobilized.

His mother offered him an awkward smile. "It's been so long... time is strange in this place, but I think it's been a long time for you, too?"

What was she asking? Had it been long enough to forgive her for abandoning him? He didn't know. He had forgiven his father, who had tried harder and done worse in the end (and then better), but it didn't feel the same — how did one make the comparison? He only nodded and muttered, "Longer than it looks. Did... did the captain tell you about Neverland?"

"He told me enough."

Maybe she regretted it now, Baelfire thought, but she had never come back for him. Not even when the ogres pressed closer and everyone knew that children were being drafted for the Duke's army. He wondered what his life would have been if they had come. His father, desperate to save him, would likely have sent him off with his blessing. And then what? Life as a pirate? Hook had murdered people, just like Rumplestiltskin had, but without any magical darkness infecting him. Would Baelfire have learned to kill and rob under his stepfather's tutelage?

They would all probably have been long dead by now. (Everyone except his eternally young paternal grandfather.) But he might have married, had a family to live on. Better? Worse? Who could say?

"It doesn't matter now," Baelfire said at last. "I just want to get out of here." He gestured all around. "This damned mud pit, this realm... I want to go home."

"Home. Back to your father," his mother said, her voice hollow. Then, "Son, do you hate me?"

Hate? Perhaps he had, when he had first learned the truth about her and Captain Hook, but he had not been close enough to his mother to feel the same sense of betrayal as when his father had abandoned him. He shook his head. "No." Then he reconsidered, and admitted, "Angry, maybe, a little." In a removed, impersonal way, but he didn't have the energy to explain it out loud.

"It weighs on the mind," his mother said after a while. "All the regrets, the anger, the resentment, the guilt..."

"It all forms an anchor that binds a shade to limbo," agreed Hook. "All the unfinished business. But when we found this boat, it felt like a sign. An omen. It was time for us to move on, wherever the water took us."

"And it took us to you," said his mother. "I needed to see you, son. Even though I was not the mother you deserved in life, in death I hoped..." Her voice trailed off. It was different from the scolding and hard contemptuous words Baelfire distantly recalled from his childhood.

He grunted noncommittally.

"This marsh can't stretch out forever," said the captain. "We'll find an end to it, maybe a settlement. Find someone to help you, lad. A way back home. Perhaps there may be a ghost of a magic bean to be found in some trader's pocket..."

Baelfire nodded. It wasn't as if he had any better options in sight. "All right. Thanks."

It had been a long time since Cora had worried this much over anyone — a long time since she first removed her own heart. She had only had it back for a minute or so before she died. Through the clarity of death's lens, she saw exactly what magic had killed her. Zelena had used the same candle Cora had once tempted Snow White with. Her unwanted daughter, come back with a grievance against the mother who had abandoned her and the sister who had usurped her place. And now it was possible that all three of them were dead, a disaster of their own making.

Cora had still had her heart when Zelena was born, but no power. It had been a sentimental decision, to bear the child to term rather than find a discreet midwife for termination, and an act of blind hope to give her up to the cyclone. It wasn't that Cora had ever wished ill on her, but rather that she had limited resources and needed to invest them where it would do the most good — which meant after she had secured herself a husband of rank and means.

Not that this reasoning mattered from Zelena's view. Cora knew that. Having a heart didn't change her calculations. Zelena had clearly bitten off more than she could chew in her attempt to conquer the Wood Beyond. Regina's ambitions were far more achievable. And that was still true... Cora had a sense that Regina was not yet fully dead, even if she had seen her shade pass through the Underworld in a dream. The dreams of the dead were not like the dreams of the living, being touched by the emanations of the realm itself.

Hence her worry over the state of Regina's soul, and whether she could still return alive to her physical body in the sunlit realm. Hence her search through the cemetery for Regina's gravestone.

"I think I found it!"

And she was not alone in her worry. Cora's husband — Regina's father — had always worried, in his sad, ineffectual manner. Now, through Cora's magic, he might actually be able to do something. That was what she had told him. It was even true, though she had not spelled out the consequences for him. Prince Henry should be well aware by now that magic always came with a price.

Cora checked the name magically inscribed on the stone.

Regina, daughter of Cora and Henry

The letters were broken apart by a massive web of cracks spanning the stone.

"That... that's a bad sign, isn't it?" mumbled Henry.

Cora pressed her lips together. A tipped stone indicated a shade gone on to a better place. A cracked stone... a cracked stone meant the opposite. A judgement from a higher power, but not one Cora would accept.

"Stand back." Cora fetched out a tiny bottle and poured the contents onto the ground in front of the gravestone. "The Ale of Seonaidh should summon the shade of anyone in the lands of the dead."

There was a crackling hiss, and then a flickering image took shape in the air. The face solidified, the features becoming recognizable. Her mouth was open in an inaudible scream, and blood streaked her face.

"Regina!" Henry hurried forward. "Regina, take my hand..."

Cora gestured sharply, focusing her magic in a bright stream on her daughter.

The ghostly Regina stretched out a pleading arm, trembling fingers passing through her father's hand. Then as more energy flowed into her from Cora, Regina gained substance.

Henry's hand clasped Regina's. He tugged at her, but she was stuck. The cemetery seemed to fade out, and dark stone walls seemed to enclose them. There was a low whirring, scraping sound, and behind that the sound of flowing water.

Its familiarity sent a shiver up Cora's spine. It was the sound of a water-powered grist mill, just like the one her father had owned. But there was something off... and when Regina was pulled free, revealing a lower body mangled almost beyond recognition, Cora nearly lost her grip on her magic. The mill faded, taking Regina with it.

"No, bring her back! I almost had her." Henry fumbled through empty air, trying to connect again with his daughter. "Please, Cora, we have to save her."

Cora shifted her weight, closing her eyes for a moment to recenter herself, then she sent out another surge of magical energy, this time determined not to let go.

The image of Regina wavered back into existence. Bit by bit, it became solid enough to touch.

"That's it, Regina," Henry encouraged, grabbing hold of her now with both hands. But as he pulled her away from the mill, he turned pale, biting back whimpers of pain.

"Daddy!" Regina was close enough now that her voice reached the cemetery, close enough to see the alarm on her face. "What's happening to you?"

"Don't worry about me," Henry said, with a bravery that he had never shown in life. "I love you, darling. You're not dead. You can still be saved. You have a chance at redemption..." Now he was becoming insubstantial, falling gradually into the demonic mill.

"Hurry! I can't hold the link for much longer," Cora said, urgency turning her voice harsh.

It triggered understanding in Regina's eyes. She looked at Cora, then at Henry. "This isn't a rescue, it's a trade. Isn't it? A soul for a soul?"

"It'll be all right," Henry lied. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from your mother when we were alive, but this is something I can do for you, Regina."

Regina opened her hands then, pushing her father away. "Daddy, no. I love you, too. I can't send you to suffer in my place!" She shot Cora a dark look. "I won't let you."

"We're doing what's best for you," snapped Cora. Why did her daughter have to be so difficult at exactly the wrong times? A sudden flicker of sentimentality, and she would doom herself to eternal torment. "Don't be a fool!"

"No. I won't do it!" Though she looked utterly drained by the hell she was trapped in, Regina dug deep and found a spark of magic and broke the link to her father.

Henry groped frantically to catch her, but they could no longer touch.

Regina's image filled with light, blotting out her face. The light grew and spread, a blinding whiteness that swallowed up Henry.

Then Cora stumbled back, no longer able to sustain her spell. Regina was gone. And so was Henry. Cora stared at the empty space where they had been. "Well. That was unexpected..."