A woman stood just inside the doorway. She looked some two decades older than Belle, whatever her true age might be — a tall, fair-skinned matron from some old Prydanian epic, perhaps. She wore her graying ginger hair coiled back in the ancient style with clothes to match. In her arms she cradled a large round object wrapped in a colorful shawl woven with circular patterns that Belle recognized as an age-old protection spell.

Rumple tensed beside her. "What is that...?"

The woman looked past them to Typhon. "Alas, my lord, she cannot grant you what you seek."

"Cannot?!" "Do not speak to me of 'cannot'!" "Cannot be damned!" roared the eerie chorus.

"Her fate was damaged too badly to be repaired."

"This is your doing." Typhon's focus shifted back to Rumplestiltskin. "You destroyed her future. A grand destiny, all wasted! You've doomed your child to be nothing and no-one."

"She can make her own destiny," Belle said firmly, seeing her husband's guilt-stricken flinch. "Rumple, you did it, and so can our daughter. You're not nothing and neither is she."

"An aborted potential, nothing more," Typhon said coldly. "She is of no significance..."

"She means everything!" How could anyone be so heartless?

"To you." Typhon's eyes gleamed with calculation. "She is worth something to you, both of you."

"Are you threatening our child?" grated Rumple, his own darkness deepening in reaction.

"Merely pointing out that..." "...she is of value to you..." "...after all." "The life we saved." "You owe to us." The overlapping chorus of voices could have belonged to a merchant or a horse trader. "The Dark One always pays his debts..." "...or have we been misinformed?"

Belle touched Rumple's arm, a silent reminder not to pick a fight they couldn't afford. "What is it you want from us, then?"

"For you to fulfill the fate you severed," said Typhon. "Topple the sky tyrant from his throne..."

"Feed him the livers of his cursed children." The woman clutched her burden closer.

"Like father, like daughter," chuckled Enyalios.

"I said his children," countered the woman. "Not mine, but the vile twins who took them from me with their poisoned arrows!"

"We all have our grudges," said Geryon. "Enough to cry an ocean of tears."

The phrasing caught at Belle's memory, and she turned to the woman in realization. "You are Niobe?"

The woman nodded slightly. "That was my name, though few remember it."

"She reads a lot," muttered Rumple, but Belle could see that he recognized the name as well. Born in an earlier age than his wife, perhaps he had even heard the tale as a child.

"It's all true, then?" Belle was horrified that once again, an old story she had taken to be an exaggeration, a fable meant to teach mortals to be humble before the gods — turned out to be the literal truth. "They murdered your children for something you said?"

The woman nodded again.

"And the part where you were cursed to stone on a hilltop?" Belle continued.

"All true. There I remained while my name faded into obscurity... the country folk remembered me only as the Rock-that-weeps."

"I'm so sorry." Belle turned to Rumple. "Did you know about this?"

"Before my time, sweetheart," he murmured, but his stance had softened, from simmering rage to something more sympathetic, sorrow for a parent's loss. "And she never called upon the Dark One."

"Still..." Belle's jaw tightened. Rumple wasn't the only one who saw something of himself in the sad figure of She-who-weeps.

Niobe had been a princess of an ancient royal house, one that like the House of Avonlea, claimed descent from a god. Zeus, not Aphrodite, and far fewer generations removed than Belle.

And that family connection didn't protect her. The thought turned blood to ice. Niobe had had seven daughters and seven sons. All of them shot down by their divine cousins because of a careless boast (or insult — to the gods, there was little difference). That meant the gods would have no qualms striking down Belle's family for anything she did to displease them, no matter how innocent the ultimate victims. A blood relationship was no protection at all. She had known that already, but it was different to come face to face with that kind of loss directly.

Had she, Belle, doomed her family already? If she had surrendered, if she had not asked Rumple to cut her fate, the gods would have spared them, but the price — she couldn't. It would only force her to become part of that tyranny herself. What would stop the gods from doing it again, to some other family?

"We can't let it happen again." Whatever was happening in Avonlea, whatever had already happened — she had to put it out of her mind for now.

"So." "You agree." "We knew you would." The voices chuckled harshly.

Knew we would do what you say, thought Belle with sudden misgiving. They had been manipulated so easily? So much for Rumple's negotiation from a position of strength — they had given themselves away. Our child. Dark One or not, Rumplestiltskin always had valued his family above all else. If they had cut their losses from the start, if they hadn't let themselves be drawn in by their hopes or fears, there would be no 'debt' to acknowledge. Typhon would have no leverage. Dorcha Ghorm had been right — women miscarried often enough that most knew better than to get too attached too soon. But somewhere along the way, with this pregnancy, their hypothetical child had become all too real. Her own fate cut, Belle had latched onto any hope that kept her moving forward. She wondered if it had been like that for Rumple and the way he had clung to his role as Baelfire's father. Had he also needed a lifeline after losing his own fate? Whatever the truth of it, neither of them were willing to let go now.

Rumple's face darkened. "Then you also know we're not leaving without our child."

"As we said, she is of no significance to us." "Take her now or take her later." "As long as you do your part against Olympus."

"No!" The objection came from Niobe. "You can't..."

"What? What are you talking about?" Belle hadn't thought that She-who-weeps, of all people, would deny a mother her child.

"If you take her now, she will never be born." Niobe set down the bundle she carried onto one of the two long tables lining the great hall. "Her life is preserved inside this egg. Do you have the magic to keep her alive? To guide her through her hatching?"

With a quick intake of breath, Belle started forward for a closer look. An egg? The spell was nothing in any of her books, nothing she had ever encountered before, a fragile interlacing of light and dark that Belle had no hope of matching. She turned to Rumple, but the quick shake of his head answered her unspoken question. This was beyond even the Dark One's expertise.

His eyes on the magical egg, he whispered in the dark tongue, "The price she paid for this magic is nothing I would wish on anyone..."

Seven sons and seven daughters, thought Belle. But even after all she had lost, She-who-weeps had still retained enough light in her heart to save someone else's child, no matter how bitter her reasons. Belle could not help but be grateful. She turned to the other woman. "Thank you. Thank you for saving her life. I know you won't harm a child. We will wait."

Niobe nodded shortly. She picked up the egg. "You do your part and I will do mine. Farewell, and may fate be with us all."

Belle started forward instinctively to follow when Niobe left the great hall, Rumple a step behind, but Typhon's voice froze them in their tracks.

"You are our guests." "Honored guests." "You must stay for the feast." It was more demand than invitation. Old customs — old magic — bound host and guest through food and wine. It sealed their agreement more thoroughly than Belle would have liked (and she knew Rumple liked it even less) but it did go both ways. Better to have Typhon as a friend than an enemy. "For the full three days."

A three-day feast was the honor due a king. It was a mark of respect, but not even halfway through the first course on the first day, Belle was already beginning to have second thoughts.

The food and drink were abundant enough, heavy on meat and fish, all cooked with skill befitting a royal kitchen. Typhon and his court certainly ate with relish, roaring with laughter at each other's jokes and boisterous toasts. Musicians accompanied the feast from an alcove behind the pillars, while dancers in scanty, but colorful, costumes took up the open space between the two lines of tables.

In stark contrast, the servers were silent and shrunken into themselves, like small rodents under the shadow of a hawk trying not to attract notice. Seeing their quiet fear, Belle lost most of her appetite, and turned her gaze to the entertainers. On a second look, their smiling faces more resembled masks. Belle picked at her food and wondered, what were they so afraid of? What did it mean for humans to be in the service of Titans?

The Titans barely acknowledged their servants... until one made a mistake. Belle heard a gasp, and turned to see, a moment after it had happened, the bowl on the ground and the splatter of sauce on Geryon's sleeve. The serving girl — young and graceless — scrambled to clean up the mess from the floor.

"Clumsy thing." Geryon rose to his feet and kicked the girl in the flank hard enough to knock her over.

She scurried backwards on her hands and knees. Her mumbled apology was clearly audible in the sudden silence. The musicians and dancers had cut off as abruptly as if by magic the moment Geryon stood up. "I'm sorry, your majesty! I didn't mean to, please, it was an accident. I'm sorry..."

Geryon glared at his sleeve and shook it lightly, the stain vanishing at the movement. Then he nudged the bowl with a disdainful toe. "You've chipped it. Shame. It's an antique. Part of a rare set."

"I'm sorry!" The serving girl stayed down, head bowed. "I'll pay, please, I swear it."

Geryon laughed. "Oh, that you will." He stretched out a hand. A magical force yanked the serving girl to her feet and dragged her within reach of the Titan king. His arm closed around her like a vise, holding her against his chest. He pulled her head back by a fistful of hair and whispered something in her ear.

The sight of the terrified girl (hardly more than a child!) woke Belle out of her shocked paralysis. Everything had happened so suddenly, so far out of her expectations, that it took that long for Belle to comprehend what she was witnessing. She opened her mouth to protest, but another voice spoke before she could find the words.

"No!" One of the musicians had abandoned his instrument, rushing out of the alcove to kneel at Geryon's feet. "Your majesty, please, it's my fault, she's new, she's only here because of me. Whatever the punishment, let me, punish me instead..."

"An ugly clod like you? I think not. Your little friend is so much tastier." Geryon's tongue, looking inhumanly long, licked a slow, glistening path from the girl's neck up across her face. She flinched back, visibly trembling in his grip even as he ground himself against her lewdly. "I may keep her..."

"You can't!" screamed the musician. "You..." Then something flashed through the air and he toppled over, the hilt of a knife protruding from his throat, a trail of dark magic lingering in the air.

Appalled, Belle traced the path of the knife back to see Enyalios lounging against a pillar, watching the scene coldly. "What... you didn't have to do that!"

Enyalios shrugged. "No, but it stopped his squawking." He bowed ironically to Geryon. "Apologies for the interruption, your majesty."

Geryon chuckled. "I'll forgive you this time."

The serving girl was crying now, tears rolling down her face, her breathing harsh and her jaws clenched.

"Let her go." Belle was too late to save the young musician, but it only made her more determined to help this girl. "It was an accident, she doesn't deserve—"

"She's only a slave. More easily replaced than the bowl she broke." Geryon eyed Rumplestiltskin. "I would have expected the Dark One's wife to have a stronger stomach."

Rumple's eyes narrowed. "My wife is stronger than you think. As are these 'slaves' you trample underfoot so cheerfully."

Geryon raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "What nonsense is this?"

"He's afraid of them," Enyalios called out from his corner. "They say that before he became the Dark One, he was a notorious coward!"

"He is not!" Belle fumed. "He never was."

"Then why not enjoy your strength? We have power, they do not." Geryon squeezed his victim's breasts in a mockery of fondness. "Isn't that right, sweetling? What can these little mortals do to beings like us?"

"Prometheus gave his life to free 'little mortals' from such higher powers," grated Belle.

"The more fool he," snorted Geryon.

"He had more wisdom in his little finger than you'll ever have," retorted Belle. "He understood freedom, and compassion, and..."

Enyalios laughed, a sly look on his face. "Oooh, just as well he died, eh, Dark One? Sounds like someone's eyes were straying..."

Rumple seized her arm and said before she could explode from indignation, "She can look where she likes. And she's looking at your unfortunate serving maid at the moment. She asked you to let her go."

"Based on what?" Geryon looked unmoved. "Are you strong enough to take her from me?"

"If I have to challenge you to a duel..." Belle started.

"Enough." Typhon spoke up for the first time since the serving girl's ill-fated fumble. "These are our guests." "Our allies." "No need to indulge in pointless squabbles." "Geryon, if they care so much for the wench, let her be our gift to them."

Enyalios applauded. "Oooh, brilliant. They've sampled the rest of our harvest, why not warmer flesh as well?"

"Hmph." Geryon sullenly thrust the serving girl in Rumple's direction. Well, at least he wasn't a hypocrite, thought Belle. Typhon was more powerful, so Geryon had to yield to him. Stronger was stronger, and that was that. "As my lord wishes."

Rumple caught her before she fell. "Thank you. Most generous."

"Wasted on you, no doubt," sneered Geryon. "Shriveled old demon, no wonder your wife—" The words cut off abruptly, an invisible fist squeezing his throat.

Rumple, one hand still upraised, looked at Typhon. "I thought we were your guests. Do you always feed your guests insults?" Then he turned to Geryon. "Wasted on me? I'll wager I know more to do with a woman than you can even dream of!"

"Rumple!" Not that it wasn't true, but it wasn't the kind of thing Belle wanted to discuss in front of this jeering shambles of a royal court. And it wasn't the kind of talk to reassure the poor serving maid, who remained frozen in the Dark One's grip.

Rumple rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, dear, you'll have your turn..."

"Big talk for a little imp," said Enyalios. "Sure you can live up to it? I don't think your wife approves."

Rumple giggled in his unnerving way and released Geryon from his spell. "My wife..." He cocked his head at Belle. "...is young, that's true, but my age is no detriment to our marriage. But perhaps it's time I taught her another lesson on the benefits of experience."

Geryon snorted in what was almost approval. Perhaps being half-choked to death had impressed him.

Idiot, thought Belle. But because she also knew how dangerous he was (how dangerous this whole situation was), she held her tongue. If her husband played his part convincingly enough, they could escape before any more violence erupted. Soon, she hoped. She felt as if she would suffocate if she had to stay here any longer.

"Well, not to seem ungrateful, but it's time Belle and I retired to our chambers. We prefer a bit more privacy for our... entertainments, shall we say." Rumple placed a hand to the small of her back and nudged her towards the exit.

She only wished that they were going back to Schlaraffenland rather than Geryon's guest chambers. Of course, it would give mortal offense if they fled in the middle of a feast nominally thrown in their honor. It was bad enough having forged an alliance with these monsters in the first place, but to then throw it away in a spasm of conscience would only make more enemies with nothing to show for it.

Privacy was ensured with one of Rumple's protection wards cast around their guest suite.

Belle led the serving maid to sit down on one of the beds. Seeing the look on her face, Belle said in a low voice, "Don't worry. We won't... he won't... do anything to you. What's your name?"

"Dora, your ladyship."

"Pleased to meet you, Dora, though I'm sorry for the circumstances." Belle found that the room had been supplied with little bowls of snacks and jars of wine. She poured a cup for the girl, hoping it would help cushion the shock.

Dora accepted the cup, but barely sipped at it. She kept her eyes lowered, her shoulders stiff as if bracing for a death blow.

"Who was he? Brother? Lover?" Rumplestiltskin asked from her other side, his sudden proximity causing the girl to look up with a startled gasp.

Belle frowned at his blunt interrogation. "He's dead, Rumple. Leave the girl alone, she's suffered enough."

"And she'll suffer more, and so will everyone else, if Typhon has his way."

"It's monstrous." Belle wanted to see the best in people, but this... "They're monsters. Using their magic to enslave and murder as they please!"

"Oh, it doesn't take magic," said Rumple. "You only need power. I've seen this show before." He circled around to stand behind Belle, gazing at Dora from over Belle's shoulder. He whispered in her ear, "I did say I would teach a lesson..."

Memories flowed through their link.

A knight ripping a peasant girl from her parents. She's a fine, strong girl. She'll ride with me.

The same knight kicking a crippled spinner into the dirt. Kiss my boot.

Belle blinked away the images, sickened. "And now that's us, grinding the less powerful into dust? We can't..."

"Alas, we're guests. We've already eaten from their table. We'd be monsters ourselves to break the laws of hospitality..." Rumple's voice trailed off, leaving Belle to fill in the unspoken conclusions.

"Not to mention this game of hostages they're playing." Belle bit her lip. For now, they couldn't act directly against Typhon. The memories Rumple had shown her — Schlaraffenland wasn't like that anymore, was it? Even in the other kingdoms, the highborn treated their 'lessers' with a modicum of restraint. Because in the back of their minds, they knew that even a cornered rat could become desperate enough to summon the Dark One. "But that doesn't preclude you making a deal."

"I told you I could do more with a woman than Geryon could ever dream of." Rumple looked at Dora. "It's all a matter of balance. And timing."

Dora lifted her head in sudden hope. "Can you bring him back?"

"Dead is dead, dearie."

Hope turned to agony. "Then I want them to die, too."

"Everyone dies, someday. But perhaps we can improve the odds in your favor," said Rumple. "Tell me about your young man... what is your vengeance worth to you?

"Everything!" hissed Dora. Then, brokenly, "His name is... was Stefano. He was a fiddler from Yrkandos. We were going to get married..."

"If we smuggle you out of the palace, is there anywhere you can go? Any family or friends who can take you in?"

"I have an uncle...he used to be an abbot, but had to go into hiding when the Titans came."

There was always a deal to be struck. A ribbon (given in love) became a cloak of protection. Rebellions survive in secrecy as the Dark One said. Belle, who had read the ledgers detailing his deals in Cockayne, could see the rough shape of his plans.

If we all survive that long, came his answering thought. At least the length of time it took for a child to be hatched from an egg, was the hope they shared. Would they ever have the chance to hold their daughter in their arms?

"You asked her for a standing invitation into Prydania," Belle noted after Dora had gone (vanished back to her uncle in a puff of smoke). "So you think Typhon will betray us?"

"If by some miracle we actually do overthrow the Skyfather, then we'll have outlived our usefulness and be a threat to boot." Rumple's face hardened. "But I will not let them keep me from our child!"

"'If by some miracle'?" Belle gave a hollow chuckle. "Our chances are as good as that, huh?"

But good or bad, it was the best chance they had.