A/N: Special thanks to Estell Lumene, gogo2625, babyfirefly69, and Mistress Winter for reviewing!

Revised 2/13/2023. This chapter was rendered unusually short through revision and through parts of it being combined with the previous chapter.

Chapter 3: The Problem With Morals

I knew I should kill him, but the thought brought up a storm of thoughts and emotions that crowded my brain. The brutally, imperiously logical part of me had already decided that a fireball would be the best option, something that would raise little suspicion when an unrecognizably burnt body was found in the aftermath of the burning castle, and I summoned flames to my hand.

But Baelfire will know whose body it is, I thought, and that paused me. A few yards away, through the smoke and embers, Rumple began to hobble back towards the door, and I knew that my chances to do this conveniently were slipping away by the moment, but still I hesitated.

In the years that I would follow, I would pick apart my thought and emotions of that time with a much finer lens that was possible in the moment, and there are so many things that might have contributed to that moment of selfish, illogical compassion. I had had an adolescence filled with violence and blood and alienation, and perhaps I needed to know that I could break that pattern with a good enough reason. Perhaps it was because I was still young enough, still naive enough that I thought that having a line that you would not cross was something important. More than a bit of it, I think, is that I didn't fully comprehend that Zoso would die, because everyone thinks their father-figure immortal until he isn't.

For these reasons and a dozen more, though I screamed at myself to move, to intervene, to do something to save the only parental figure I'd had since I was thirteen, I let Rumplestiltskin walk out of that castle. And everything that followed was irrevocably, irrefutably my fault.

I followed him into the forest, fighting with myself every step on whether to kill the spinner or at least wait until Zoso's plan made itself more clear. Baelfire had eventually come into view, and he and Rumple exchanged some words that I could not hear before the boy left again. I was grateful to see him go; whatever would happen, whatever I or Zoso might do to his father, he shouldn't have to see it.

The light of Rumple's torch played odd tricks on the shadows around him as he held the dagger up to read the name. "Zoso." he said, barely above a whisper. A chill had run through me as some primal part of me realized, with great certainty, that things were about to go very wrong. "Zoso." he repeats, more forcefully. "I summon thee."

Silence had stretched for a long second, and the looked around, fear and desperation etched into his features. For a brief second, I had prayed to any gods that may listen that Zoso wouldn't come, that we could all walk away. But the gods are never so merciful, and I am not so lucky. The spinner turned in a circle, taking one last desperate look around, and came face to face with my mentor.

To this day, I don't know how Zoso knew I was there, if he saw me move, or heard me, or simply sensed my presence. Magic wrapped around me the second Zoso apparated, holding me in place, paralyzing me from even speaking.

"You were asking for me." The familiar gravely voice grounds out. Any other day, the sarcasm might have been amusing.

"Submit, Dark One! I control you." Rumple had challenged, voice shaking the whole time.

The familiar fire of anger had flashed through me, just for a second, at that idea. But in a way, it was also infinitely impressive. The man had no magic, was no warrior, and had one good leg. He was miles out of his league, and yet he stood his ground before my mentor as only the most arrogant of kings had ever dared, all to protect his son. It was a sentiment I could relate viscerally with. What power in all the realms would I not stare down for the sake of my family?

"Yes you do." Zoso concedes. "Wield the power wisely."

Rumplestiltskin had stared at him for a long moment, and over his shoulder, Zoso had taken the opportunity to shoot me a quick look that vaguely apologetic, more than a little guilty, and so infinitely tired.

"You can wield any time now." He added to Rumple, that slightly annoyed and yet so amused smile evident in his voice, if not on his face. Then his demeanor changed. "It's almost dawn." He took a step toward the smaller man. "And that means it's your son's birthday." He closed the remaining distance. "I bet Hordor and his men are already making their way to your house."

What are you doing? I had wanted to scream.

"No. They can't take him." Rumple gets out; he sounds as though he's trying to convince himself more than anyone else. Zoso shakes his head and leans in.

"You don't control them." he snarls. "Have you ever wondered, was he really you'=r child at all?" He had mused, and it was then I fully realized- or at least finally accepted- what he intended to happen, why he had prevented me from intervening. No. "Unlike you, he's not a coward, and yearns to fight and die in glory."

Shut up. If I ever meant anything to you, then you'd shut up.

The spinner had shaken his head violently, but Zoso pressed on. "What a poor deal that would be, to lay down your soul to save your bastard son." No. No no no- "So I will ask you again. What. Would you. Have me. Do."

Rumplestiltskin's arm swings back at the same time the word leaves his mouth. "Die."

The knife plunges in, and the Dark One's hand automatically comes up to grip Rumple's. The spinner saw it as an act of surprise, I'm sure, but I can't help but wonder if Zoso was making sure that the knife got to his heart, making sure that his own fate was sealed.

Zoso crumbled to the ground, hood falling back from his face, and Rumple, his leg unable to take their combined weight, went down with him. The magic that had been holding me suddenly disappeared, and I stumbled briefly and then remained frozen in place, shocked, unable to tear my eyes away from the anguish flashing across my friend's face.

"You." Rumple had breathed in disbelief. "You're the beggar."

Zoso smiled then. "You, you made a deal you didn't understand." He gave a small chuckle that had the familiar wheeze of the dying. "I don't think you're gonna do that again."

"You told me to kill you."

"My life was such a burden. You'll see." His eyes rolled to me, searching my face, making sure I understood. Some people leave a note, but the man who was a second father to me only gave me one sentence's worth of explanation- and would have given nothing, if I had not followed the spinner there. "Magic always comes with a price, and now it's yours to pay."

It began to dawn on the cripple, what his fate would be, what he would become "Why me?" he asked. "Why me?"

Zoso gave him an almost pitying look. "I know how to recognize a desperate soul."

My mentor's chest rose in small, shallow gasps, and a crushing weight settled over me as I watched his last breaths. The spinner said something else, something pleading and desperate, as I watched Zoso's chest still.

He pulled the knife from Zoso's body, and it vanished out from under him, leaving only his navy-blue cloak on the ground. I rocked back on my heels like I'd been hit at the sheer cruelty of not even having a body to bury. I was vaguely aware of the spinner's departure, but the sun had risen before I could bring myself to move.

Slowly, moving as if in a trance, I had moved to kneel next to Zoso's cloak.

"You bastard." I said. "I could've helped you. I could've talked you out of it." I paused, because at that point, was there ever any getting out of it? "I could've done it myself."

My voice cracked on the last word, and all at once my composure crumbled, and I pulled the cloak to my chest and curled around it. Sobs shook my body like they hadn't since the last time he left me, years before. A long while later, I stood on shaky legs and pulled myself together.

And so began the first in a series of deaths that would render me completely alone within the span of three short years.