"The Titans are out!"
Belle's blood ran cold at the news, her hands instinctively moving to shield the child nestled in her womb. Rumple's hand on her back was a reassuring reminder of his presence.
Breathe, came a whisper of thought. I won't let them hurt you...
But it was more than their own family at stake.
It was one thing to agree, in theory, that no one deserved to be imprisoned for eternity in a sunless hell world, and to discuss in reasonable terms their eventual (remote) freedom. It was far more alarming and immediate to find out that the decision was out of her hands. All of them, even the worst and most monstrous — ones who made Prometheus, chained to his rock for his sins, seem tame in comparison. And now they didn't even have him as an intermediary.
Belle's gaze went to Maleficent, the half-blood who had never been part of the ancient war. She looked as ambivalent as Belle felt about the prospect of its re-ignition.
"This may work to our advantage," said Cora, her voice cold and calculating. "They were no use to anyone, moldering away at the bottom of the pit. At least they'll keep the Olympians off our backs. With any luck, they'll take each other out for us."
"The collateral damage will be appalling!" cried Belle. She eyed Cora warily. This was someone Rumple had once loved. How much had that affected his choosing her to replace Hades? Could his judgement — could she — be trusted? Belle had seen the way Rumple had driven the golden nails through her heart as if performing an exorcism, yet a hint of softness lingered between them. Strangely, Belle felt none of the jealousy commonly depicted in the romantic tales of her books. She put the thought out of her mind — her personal feelings could only be a distraction when so much was at stake.
"It may not be too late to stop them," said Maleficent. "Some of them may listen to reason..."
"Let's take a look, shall we?" Cora waved a hand, vanishing in a puff of smoke.
Rumple bit off a curse, then grabbed Belle and pulled everyone else (with help from Maleficent and their allies among the demons and the dead) along the trace of Cora's magic.
The Titans had been imprisoned in a dark pit deep in the bottom of Tartarus, the darkest place in the dead lands. The only light came from the broken splinters of the spell that had once locked the pit in its own pocket of reality. Now the huge boulders that ringed the surface of the pit bled with melted runes and sizzling wisps of magic.
Belle peered warily down into the pit, noting the narrow stone staircase carved into the wall, spiraling down and out of sight. It was far too quiet. Where were the Titans?
At this, some of the captive demons (dragged along because in their hurry no one wanted to spare the time to deal with the prisoners properly) perked up. "Quick! Fix the seal. You took up the power — that comes with the sacred duty to guard the Pit!"
Then a childish giggle cut through the hubbub. "Now, there's a saying... what was it? Something about stable doors, horses..."
Belle froze. She knew the voice, but Rumple met her startled gaze with eyes just as wide with shock. She gulped. "That's..."
"Not me," whispered Rumple.
"Well, you're still here," said Cora into the sudden quiet, but her eyes were turned away from them, in the direction of the all-too-familiar giggling voice.
Belle followed Cora's gaze into the shadows. A barely visible shape moved, a hint of a gesture.
"Avoiding the rush, dearie." A man's shape, taking a step forward, then another.
"So you're saying we're too late," said Maleficent. "They're all gone, except you."
"Well. Not everyone," said the other.
"You're not a Titan. This isn't even your world. Why are you here?" demanded Cora.
"I like to travel?" Another step closer. "Well, well. Cora, isn't it? That's a turn-up for the books!" A shift, an indistinct turn of the head. A glimpse of eyes looking past Cora to Belle and the Dark One. Then, in a low voice drained of all amusement, "You..."
Rumple, her Rumple, stilled.
Belle grabbed her Rumple's arm, whispered, "Is he dead?" She caught an impression of immense age, a faded aura — nothing like the darkness she felt yawning under the skin beneath her fingers. "Is he not the Dark One?"
"It's debatable," came the ambiguous answer before her Rumple could answer. One more step, and the face was visible. It was almost the same as Belle had seen before, the human face of her husband, the ageless mask of a creature saturated by magic — but with the eyes of the lizard-imp. "Belle." Then, "Bae..."
The names sounded strange on his lips, a little uncertain, a little sad.
Belle felt Rumple shudder under her touch. He said in a strained voice, "You said 'not everyone.' Are there still Titans down there?"
The other shrugged. "Titans, monsters, lost souls..."
"We need to talk to them," decided Rumple, after exchanging a glance with Maleficent. "See if any are willing to ally themselves with us."
"What about you?" Cora asked the other. "I know you've never been your own favorite person, but setting self-hatred aside, will you cooperate with yourself?"
The other wasn't looking at Cora. Hands clenched at his sides, he swallowed, then shook his head. "I'm not interested in fighting..."
How old is he? Belle wondered. He reminded her of the other older Rumple she had met, in the third trial before her marriage. Had this one also been married to a version of herself, who was now dead? She curbed her curiosity and didn't ask. At least he didn't seem as bitter and angry as that one or the ones who had tried to destroy Nevethe. "Please, will you take us to the others?"
A mocking bow. "As you wish."
They descended in single file down the spiraling staircase. Belle let Rumple move ahead, while she waited to bring up the rear behind Baelfire, Emma, and Lily. Hyan Luize and the Old Wife remained above along with the bulk of their allies and the prisoners. Belle summoned a witchlight to her hand, providing enough illumination to find her footing. She wasn't the only one, but even the combined power of their light was quickly swallowed by the unnatural darkness of the pit.
Gradually, the stairs grew less even. The initially regular curve bent this way and that. The pit that from above looked bottomless had a floor after all — or they had strayed unawares from the main path and now travelled an even stranger route. Given their guide, anything was possible. Belle wouldn't put it past any Rumple to lead them into one of his schemes.
He led them into a garden.
Because of the bleak nature of the landscape, it took Belle a long time to comprehend what she was seeing. Instead of plants and flowers, there were artful arrangements of rocks and bones and sand. Through the garden ran a winding stream, the soft wails of lost souls mixed in with the burble of the water. Stones pieced together in straight lines and right angles suggested ancient ruined palaces and courtyards, pools and fountains. Carvings gave an impression of trees and vines, fruits and flowers. Benches offered a wordless welcome to the weary visitor.
On a bench under an arched bone trellis sat a Titan. He looked up from his contemplation of the fountain before him, and by the time Belle caught up with the others (arrested by the sight of the first person they had encountered since their guide) his face — painted a stark white — had turned towards the intruders.
Their guide indicated the Titan with an elaborate wave. "Meet our resident Omophage." To the Titan, he said, "Look lively! We have company."
Omophage? Belle couldn't help but look at his hands, half-expecting them to be dripping with blood.
"It's been a long time." The Titan spoke in a low, detached tone. "I'm afraid they may find us to be poor hosts."
"Never mind that. We're not here for a tea party," said Cora.
"More of a royal procession," said the other Rumplestiltskin. "The king is dead! Long live the king! Or queen, as the case may be."
The Titan sighed. "Oh, someone wants something. I should have known." He swept his gaze over the visitors, his expression weary under the white paint. "So, what is it now?"
This was no time for niceties. They explained the situation and made their appeal.
The Titan was unimpressed. "The last time I answered a royal request, it landed me down here..."
"That was the occasion that won you that title?" Belle guessed. An omophage was an eater of raw flesh. "Legend speaks of a son of Zeus dismembered and devoured by Titans at Hera's incitement."
"Did you read that in a book?" The other Rumple shot her an almost wistful look. "Ah, well, not exactly. But you always did place too much trust in the written word."
Her Rumple bristled, but Belle shook her head, silently urging him to let it go.
"But so it was written, and so it became true," said the Titan glumly. "The story according to Zeus."
"And that's why we need to work together — to keep him from doing that again," said Maleficent. "My uncle sacrificed himself to wrest Tartarus from the gods. Will you let his death be in vain?"
"That's up to you," answered the Titan. "I'm done with fighting."
"If we fail, you may be imprisoned here forever."
The Titan shrugged. "Existence is its own prison. We are all trapped by reality, stuck inside our skins."
"But don't you want a better world, rather than this dark pit?" Belle tried.
That was when Baelfire spoke up, pointing out what they had missed. "But it's not dark!" Sometime during their impassioned pleas to the Titan, the boy had wandered out just beyond the edge of their little circles of illumination. His outstretched finger followed a drifting spark of ghostly green. "Look, there's light!"
Belle gasped, astonished to see that he was right. She moved to investigate. "That can't be natural..."
"The division between natural and unnatural is an arbitrary line drawn by someone with an agenda," said the other Rumplestiltskin, in a tone somewhere between a lecture and a warning.
"That doesn't explain where the light comes from." Belle couldn't help but respond much as she would have to her own version of the man, even though she warned herself that they had to be careful, that this stranger (but her heart insisted he wasn't) could be dangerous. He could have an agenda, as he himself had put it.
"You didn't ask." Despite his sharp rejoinder, the other's expression softened as it faded into something more serious. "But if you want to know, I can show you." He walked to the edge of the fountain, a small circular pool with a sculpture of a serpent coiled around a tree in the center, a stream of water trickling from its mouth. He leaned forward, one hand braced against the stone rim of the pool.
Belle stifled a cry of alarm. The waters of the realms of the dead were dangerous, stripping memories and swallowing souls. Here in the deepest pit of Tartarus, this close to the source, the power of the water was that much more concentrated. Even the mist rising from the surface of the fountain could...
The other Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes and breathed it in.
Her Rumple's hand gripped her arm as if afraid she would spring forward in some rash attempt to interfere. He murmured in her ear, "The fountain channels the magic, tames it..."
Then with a twirling gesture, a bubble formed at his fingertips, slowly expanding and rising into the air. Sickly green light spread in blotches over the surface of the bubble. It was a face! An ugly, distorted image of Rumplestiltskin himself.
Belle shivered. The blindly staring eyes and misshapen, wide-open mouth made her skin crawl. She was not the only one affected; the others watched in silence as the bubble bobbed along, caught in some chthonic current imperceptible to the living. It floated higher and higher, finally popping in a burst of green sparks.
"Fascinating." Even Cora sounded impressed, in her cold, distant way.
But Belle stared at the other Rumplestiltskin. "Is that what you've done to yourself? Losing yourself inch by inch?" She had already sensed that he had fewer sharp edges than the younger version she was married to, but he had been worn away by more than the mere passage of time. "Is that why you're not... you..." The darkness.
"Perceptive as ever," the other said quietly. "The Dark One has life eternal..."
"And that is the cruelest prison of all," Belle whispered, nodding. Hadn't the Mulctowners taught her as much? "So you... you built this place to shed the darkness... and your immortality?"
"I built my own mausoleum." Then his lips twisted wryly as he added, "I had enough practice entombing everyone else I outlived!"
"You built a garden," Belle disagreed. She looked around, wondering how long it had taken him. "It's beautiful... you made it beautiful."
"I pushed a bunch of rocks around," the other Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "And it wasn't all me."
Belle looked at the Titan. "Then... is that why you refused us? Refused to fight for life? Because you came here to die?" It was more than death, it was a gradual erosion of identity itself. She wondered then if this was the answer the Old Wife had been seeking: an end to her personal eternity. "Are there others like you here?"
The Titan nodded slowly. "The world we fought for is long gone. We are buried and lost. You who are young enough to say yes and no to fate — fight if you want, die if you want, it is nothing to me."
Not willing to give up yet, Belle and the others searched deeper into the garden (mausoleum) to find the other lost souls lurking there. Some were willing to speak with the intruders, but none were moved to join their cause. It seemed that even though the other Rumplestiltskin had originally built it for himself, it had drawn other like-minded souls to join him, even adding their own touches to the garden. Lit by the light of decaying souls, it was ghastly. It was sublime.
"Everyone who wanted to leave already left," Belle conceded at last. "Rumple, what are we going to do? We can't let the Titans ravage the lands of the living!"
"Can you stop them?" Maleficent didn't look as if she had much hope of a positive answer. "Perhaps we should stay out of it. Keep our families safe."
"Everyone ends up down here eventually," said Cora. "You should try dying sometime, Rumple. It has a way of putting things in perspective."
"And you can shut up." He glanced at Belle, a silent promise to protect their family. But another glance at Maleficent betrayed his desperation. Was he really thinking of running away?
Belle instinctively shielded her abdomen with an arm. "We have to try, Rumple. We can't just abandon everyone..."
"We can't save everyone, either!" He took a breath, but kept the rest of his argument behind his teeth.
The other Rumple snorted, but there was a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes.
"There must be something we can do." Belle refused to give up.
"Where there's life, there's hope, my dear," Cora said to her. "Conversely, where there's death, there's only acceptance. If you want to be doing something, you and Rumple need to go back to the upper lands. Even better, find a way to keep gods and Titans from my doorstep."
"Kill them all, gods and Titans alike?" Rumple offered, as if in jest, but Belle remembered what he had done to Gaston. What he might have done to Hades, if he had not constrained himself in Baelfire's presence, mindful of mortal fragility.
The living world was full of mortals.
"No!" Belle held his gaze until the darkness subsided from his aura. "That's not the answer."
"Then what do you suggest?"
Belle opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She just knew that murder and mass death were not acceptable options. Instead, it was Cora who spoke up next.
"You know already. There are other powers in the upper realms than the gods and the Titans. Ones you've so carefully avoided mentioning." Cora smirked. "I suggest you hold your nose and make whatever alliances you must..."
Belle scowled at Cora, not appreciating her tone, but as soon as Cora had said it, Belle knew, too. It had been there at the back of their minds all along: Nevethe. The Wood Beyond, with its concentration of true love, the only mortal power that could stand toe to toe against the gods. "Rumple... I think it may be our best chance."
"You're talking about the Wood Beyond," Rumple said flatly. "So much for fighting fate."
"We can't afford to waste our resources on a front that may be no more than an illusion," argued Belle. "There's enough fighting already. We should focus on what's right. If that means going to Nevethe..."
Rumple sighed. "We can't ignore its power." He looked at Bae. "It may be the safest place at the moment."
The other Rumple held up a hand. "Ah. One hates to be the bearer of bad news, but you're mistaken. The Wood Beyond is currently a war zone."
"A war zone?" Belle repeated the unfamiliar phase, but the meaning was all too clear.
"Indeed. Nevethe is besieged by an army of Dark Ones." The other Rumple's expression held both sympathy and self-mockery.
"The... the ones from the Underworld?" The Rumple who was a Dark One grasped at straws, but Belle knew he knew it wasn't what the other meant.
"No. More of them," she whispered, remembering their last visit to Nevethe. "Our echoes from other realities..."
"But they were defeated." Rumple's protest was half-hearted.
"And you think that would stop them? No, no, for good or for ill, we have always been persistent when we have our hearts set on a goal." The other Rumple gave his other self a knowing look. "Or none of us would have become the Dark One in the first place."
Rumple shook his head. "Let's say you're right about the situation in Nevethe. How do you know? Trapped in the pit of Tartarus, with all the barriers that entails, I can't imagine you had much converse with the outer world."
"Your failure of imagination is something you need to work on if you want to survive this war." At Rumple's glare, his alternate self relented with a careless wave of his hand. "Oh, you know, the roots — the roots of the Wood Beyond. They plumb the depths of all darkness, even to the Pit of Tartarus."
"Here. Of course." Belle should have expected it. The magic of true love transcended realms. "Was that how you ended up here? You followed a root?"
The other shrugged. "Like water running downhill, things flow through the roots into Tartarus. The seals on Tartarus kept any creatures, living or dead, from escaping back up, but there's always been a trickle of rumor dripping into our ears even here."
"But the seals are broken now." Belle looked at Rumple. "We may be able to go into the Wood that way, which no one will be expecting. If it's true what he says about Nevethe, this could give us a chance to scout out the situation before getting caught up in it."
Rumple nodded reluctantly. He eyed his older counterpart. "You can show us the way?"
There was no telling how long it would take them to find these 'roots' on their own, and they couldn't afford to waste the time when Titans already had a head-start and Nevethe could be burning.
"For a price," said the other with disappointing predictability.
"You...!" Belle bit back an outraged rant about selfishness. She took a breath, then reconsidered her rant. "You called this your mausoleum! You're waiting to die. What can a dead man possibly want?"
It was her Rumple who answered. "Belle, you've seen this place. You've met the dead. What do you think they want?"
They had told her, hadn't they? Belle remembered, ashamed for a moment that she was ready to abandon them for her own quest. Then she thought that it wasn't that she didn't want to help them, but that help would have to wait a little longer. It's a matter of priorities! she told herself, but Rumple's words cast her unvoiced accusation of selfishness back in her own face. Then she shook her head, looking between the other Rumple and the Omophage. "You refused to help us. Told us that the problems of the living don't concern the dead. That works both ways..."
Rumple sighed. "Belle, it's not that simple."
"Isn't it?" Belle looked around, gesturing at their surroundings. "You do have the power to change Tartarus for the better. It may not be easy. It may not be quick. But you've done it! You can keep doing it. You just have to try."
The other Rumple smiled, taking no offense from her words but rather the opposite. "Ah, Belle, as optimistic as ever. But there are limits to faith and hard work. Limits to life, to death. Limits to what we can achieve on our own. We need..."
"...more power," the younger Rumple finished. "What is the price for your help?"
"It is a power that was stolen from Tartarus by the Olympians at the dawn of their reign." The other stabbed a finger at Rumple's chest. "A power in your possession, if I don't miss my guess."
"Why, Rumple, you've been holding out on me." Cora looked eagerly at the other. "Tell us about this power."
"It's not one he can use," said the other. "But it belongs to the dead. It is the power that allows a soul to transcend its old life and rewrite it, granting a new path and a new fate. To rise from dust and breathe again."
"The wheel of rebirth." The Omophage stirred, roused from his lethargy. "It can be restored?"
Belle hardly heard him, caught on the other Rumple's words and a sudden realization. "You mean the Author's power? Is that where it came from?"
"Is this true?" demanded Maleficent. She and her daughters exchanged a glance. "Stolen from hell and forged into a weapon?"
The Omophage nodded. "Oh, Zeus tried to hide his tracks, but we've had time and more to find the truth. So while Prometheus may have been named a thief, he was hardly the only one!"
"Of course," breathed Rumple. "This is not the first prophecy of a child to threaten the Skyfather, is it? The son that you dismembered was destined to succeed him on the throne, wasn't he?"
"Zeus put the blame on Hera's jealousy but it was his own fear of being overthrown behind the plot. So we slew the child as commanded, and were banished for our obedience. The soul was reborn again, this time with a less ominous fate."
"And naturally the Skyfather, having seized the power, never returned it," said Belle, piecing the story together. "It suited him to have the dead trapped in the sunless realms forever, where they could never grow into a threat to his rule."
The other Rumple nodded. "Full marks. But now that he's lost his hold on that power, it's time to restore hope to Tartarus."
"So that's your price..." Belle smiled. Even after all this time, the other was just like her Rumple, hiding his good intentions under the monster's mask. "Rumple..."
He sighed and nodded. He glanced at Cora. "I trust you'll keep it out of the Skyfather's grubby little paws this time around..."
Cora scoffed. "Need you ask?"
Given what Belle knew of the woman, whatever else she was, she wasn't one to let power slip out of her grasp. As for whether she would guide its use for the greater good, Belle had to trust in the efficacy of the golden spikes nailed through her heart.
Once it was done, Cora held court with the representatives of the dead and their demons and the lone elf who had joined them somewhere along the way.
"You've heard that the fair folk pay a tithe to hell? He is here to strike a more favorable deal with the new regime," Rumple explained to Belle when she asked him about the elf. "But however it goes, it's out of our hands now."
That left them with the other Rumplestiltskin to find their way to Nevethe. Baelfire tried to follow them, but Rumple wouldn't have it, and Belle agreed with his reasoning.
"No. It's too dangerous." Rumple shot Belle a look as if wishing he could order her to stay behind, but by now he must have known better than to argue the point with her.
"If the Titans are free, then it's dangerous everywhere," protested Baelfire. "We're safer if we all stay together!"
"And that's what the rest of you should do," said Belle. She gave Maleficent a pleading look.
The old dragon nodded. "Indeed. I would offer the shelter of my fortress, but alas, it is too well known to the Olympians."
"You need to make yourselves scarce until we can sort things out in the Wood," Rumple said. He frowned, silent for a few moments. Then he snapped his fingers. "I have it. The Jolly Roger is a ship made of enchanted wood, the fastest vessel that sails the seas. It is a seasoned traveler between worlds. A bit of sorcery should keep it hidden from hostile eyes, making it as safe as anywhere in the sunlit realms."
"The Jolly Roger? She was about to embark on a trading mission to Avalon when we were last in Schlaraffenland," noted Baelfire, starting to look eager despite himself.
Belle raised her eyebrows. The boy was no scholar, but he kept track of shipping schedules?
Catching Belle's glance, Bae looked abashed. "Ah, well, we were going to ask, before... before all this..." He waved his hands at their grim surroundings.
"You wanted to travel," Belle surmised.
Rumple sighed. "Well, Bae, this isn't what I'd have wished for you, but fate seems to have other plans."
"You don't need to worry about us, Papa," said Baelfire. "But what about the people back home? Aren't they in danger, too?"
"That's why Belle and I are going to the Wood Beyond." Rumple gripped his son's hand. "And why you must wait for our return. It will do no one any good if you throw yourselves into the fray piecemeal!"
"All right," whispered Baelfire. 'But you have to be careful, too!"
And so it was done. Because the Jolly Roger would be at sea, its precise location unknown, a simple portal wouldn't do. One of the ferryboats that plied the waters of the Underworld would be summoned for them.
"They'll be fine." Belle sensed that it went against all of her husband's instincts to part from his son, because when had it ever gone well? But it was still the best of their options. She had to believe that, or she might never do anything at all.
Rumple nodded, sparing one last glare at Maleficent.
"You're the ones walking into a fight. Save your fears for yourself," said Maleficent dryly.
This close to the roots the other Rumple had revealed to them, the very air thrummed with dark sorcerous energy. It wasn't only a fight they were walking into, but a forbidding power that held no kindness for intruders. Belle felt her husband's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. He was frightened, she knew, but covered it with his worry for his family. Now that cover was ripped away and they had to face it.
Belle forced a smile, tried to project confidence. "Ready, Rumple?"
He nodded.
Side by side, they passed into the darkness.
No one looks too closely at the ferryman. Who wants to see the face of death before time?
No one except the Fury, who once ran in the same circles. Alec cannot help but wonder if he is one of those who resents that she deserted her post to cleave to a mortal. Or is he merely indifferent? Or, least likely, one of the few she once counted as a friend and who still holds some regard for her.
But the face under the hood is none of those. Seeing her surprise, he touches a finger to his lips, hushing her.
It takes her a moment to recognize the other Rumplestiltskin, the half-man, half-shade from the Pit. Why is he here? She opens her mouth to ask, then closes it again on the question. She can see the answer in his eyes. Why is she here?
There's someone she cares about.