The Dark Ones were giddy inside of his head, but his guts were twisted, churning with some kind of emotion he hadn't felt in so long that it took him ages to identify it. Conflict. He was feeling conflicted.

On the one hand, he was smart enough to know that putting Emma Swan in the hat would be the end of it. She wasn't just a magic user or even just a Light Magic user. She was a Savior, and her power would be more than enough to get the hat to where it needed to be. The stars on the hat would align with the stars in the night sky, and if he played his cards right with Hook, then he could get that man's heart and be free of the dagger by tomorrow night!

And then it would all be over. All the sneaking around, the distance he felt between him and Belle, the lying. Then he could keep the promise he'd made to Baelfire, to his Neal. Free of the dagger, he could go back to working hard to be the good man that Belle wanted him to be. He was so close he could taste it.

On the other hand…he did wish his ticket to eternal bliss didn't come at the cost of Emma Swan. That was a bit of a startling revelation. He didn't think he cared any for Miss Swan, at least not beyond what he cared for anyone else in this town, except for maybe his wife and grandson. But the feeling inside him of his gut rolling side to side with guilt told him the girl meant something to him. It most certainly wasn't love, but he didn't think it was like either. It felt more like…

"Loyalty," Nimue sneered across the room, suddenly standing sentinel at the front door, her eyes gazing out at the street. "You feel loyal to her."

"Go away," he dismissed, turning to head into the back room.

"Go away?" she called out, her non-existent footsteps following after him. "You practically summoned me by naming your own confliction, and yet you wish for me to be gone? When I can be so helpful at getting you past that point?"

"When have you ever helped me?" he questioned, turning to her as she moved with him into the back room.

"Aside from what I'm about to do now? Get rid of the girl. Do it without guilt. The mother of your grandson, she may be Rumpelstiltskin, but if you wish to keep your family safe, you know she's a wildcard you can't keep in your hand."

He knew. That was why he wasn't hesitating, just feeling…conflicted.

"She's already caused harm to your grandson. She came in here and admitted that to you with no qualms. And maybe things worked out for him this time. Maybe now he is 'okay' and 'safe,' but her magic will only grow. Unchecked and untrained as it is, the boy might not be so lucky next time.

"And ingrained as that wife of yours is with the Savior's family, who's to say she won't be there next time, too? Motherly love might save your grandson from her magic, it might even save Emma's parents from her magic, but what bond is there to save Belle? The girl is a walking hazard, we both know I'm right."

He knew. That was why he wasn't arguing.

"Your son loved her once. She gave him the great gift of fatherhood. But we both know that much power in the world is dangerous. The only good thing you can do to protect Neal's son now is to put the danger down. And lucky for us, the being we need to trap to do it has just walked right up to you and asked you to trap her."

He knew that too, only he didn't. Emma thought he only intended to strip her of her magic. She didn't know the reality that would come when she was trapped within the hat. Hell, he didn't know. He only had a few texts he'd read that told him of the limbo world that existed inside the hat. Freedom wasn't impossible but it was highly unlikely.

Perhaps that was a way to ease his guilt. Once this was over and he was separated from the dagger, his life would be his own, Ingrid's grand plan would be spoiled with Emma missing, perhaps he could use his magic once more to figure out a way to break her free from the hat. A little bit of mind magic and…

This wasn't a terrible idea.

"If you say so…" Nimue drawled. "If that's what you must tell yourself to assuage this guilt, then so be it. But don't lose sight of the target now. And speaking of targets, if Emma is yours, then we both know there is one who will fight this plot of yours to the bitter end to save the one she wants as her sister!"

Ingrid.

If she caught so much as a whiff of what he was planning, she'd warn Emma. And it wouldn't take much. He trusted himself not to say anything, but he didn't have that same amount of trust with Emma. If she sought out her parents, they'd tell Elsa, Regina, Henry, Hook even…

It wouldn't take much for one of them to accidentally clue Ingrid in on the fact that Rumpelstiltskin intended to help Emma take away her magic, and the Snow Queen would know exactly what he was planning. Fortunately for him, he knew exactly what to do with that woman for the duration of the day, something he'd been harvesting that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt would hold a Water Elemental hostage for all the time he needed.

When he finally walked into Ingrid's lair, it was well into the afternoon. He'd gone about his normal business today so as not to arouse suspicion. He held out going to the Queen as long as he could trust Emma's news wouldn't spread, but by lunchtime, he was too nervous not to go to her. From the nickel container he'd been storing the urn in, he poured some into a small vial that we was confident would get the job done, then let his magic reach out to touch Ingrid's magic and went to her.

He walked slowly into the cavern, hands behind his back to hide the dust he'd already uncapped. That was a risk. Ingrid had been in that urn for a long while, he didn't want her to sense the magic inside of it, but he didn't want to use his own magic to get to it, or risk her sensing it in another way. So, he let his footsteps be slow and menacing, hoping she'd hone in on him as a threat far more than the magic he carried with him. He wanted to be heard, wanted her mind completely focused on him to distract from the dust he carried with him. And to draw her out. He had to; that was the best way to make the plan work. And with Ingrid standing by that dreaded mirror, gazing into it as she was…that would never do.

"Did you come here for a reason?" Ingrid asked, peering at him through said mirror. "As I recall, I already told you what you need to do to free yourself from your dagger."

"Hmm…" he didn't answer her question, stopped in the middle of the room on purpose and let his voice be low. He wanted her to come to him.

"I have nothing more to give you…unless…"

He held his ground, and like a moth to the flame, the Snow Queen turned on her heel and walked straight to him, out into the open room.

"You simply like watching me."

What was it about him that made every woman, damn near every villainess, he encountered so damn sure he was interested in them? Did they not see who he had waiting at home?!

He held back a smile. "I never do anything without a good reason. And watching your twisted mind at work does not qualify."

"Twisted?" she piqued, eyes focused on him as he began to walk around the Snow Queen, letting the hand behind his back tip so that the grains of the shattered urn fell to the ground after him. And yet, as he moved, Ingrid kept her eyes solidly on him and not the ground. Perfect. "Says the man who betrayed everyone in Storybrooke."

"I haven't betrayed a single person. Not yet, anyway."

"Did you forget that you gave me those? Did you forget what they can do?" she inquired, pointing to the box with the ribbons still neatly knotted within it.

"I don't forget much, dearie. But if you plan to put a ribbon on Emma Swan, you're about to be disappointed."

That was it! The circle was made, and he could already feel the magic within the space activating. Ingrid, it appeared, could not. How very ironic that the person who had spent the most time within that urn, could not sense a product of it. Elementals…

"With her powers out of control, I've now found my own use for her," he smiled wickedly.

The gleeful, knowing smile on Ingrid's face instantly fell, replaced with wicked hatred and panic. "You think you can take her away from me now?!"

But as the girl stepped forward and raised her hand to attack, a shimmer of white pressed against it. Or rather, it was Ingrid pressing against a barrier unseen, reacting and absorbing the magic she bore, just as it had for a generation already.

"What did you do?" she asked timidly as she pressed against her cage.

"Look down," he commanded, letting his magic light up the grains of sand. "Remember the urn your sister placed you in? It had the power to limit your magic."

"Elsa destroyed that urn."

"Well, funny thing about magic…it can never be destroyed completely. It simply lives on in other forms. Magic survives." Ingrid's face paled, an impossible feat for someone of her complexion, as she looked around and realized what he'd done, the trap she'd fallen into. "I visited the barn where the urn was destroyed, collected its remnants grain by grain," he smiled as he held the empty vial up for her to see. "Painstaking process, and I must say…the effort paid off." In more ways than one. He turned then, and headed back to the entrance of the lair, ever aware of the sun in the sky and the time of day.

"When I escape, there will be a terrible price to pay."

The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement as he turned back to face her. Oh, he highly doubted that. The power contained in that mirror, it was going to require an immense amount of power to free it. And he was about to remove her power source. He was about to betray Storybrooke, but not in the way Ingrid thought he was. He'd take their Savior, but in the process, he'd also save the town from that monstrosity of a curse.

"Don't worry. The dust won't last long, just long enough to get what I want. And, uh, you see, I don't have to betray everyone in Storybrooke. Just you. And I'm afraid…Emma Swan."

Her heart beat wildly at that declaration. He let it as he walked out the door and started the clock on his time.

There is so much that I love about this chapter. I love his interaction with Nimue, but I think what I love most of all about it is the way that she shows her hand. Half the time when she's commentating in his head it's "the girl this" or "that boy that." But when suddenly when she needs to control him Henry and Belle have names and become his grandson and his wife that Nimue suddenly gives a crap about. That just seems so Nimue to me.

Thank you, Grace5231973 and Rsbeall12, for your reviews. I'm hoping you'll like this chapter as much as I do, but I'm aware that there is also a bittersweet sort of notion to it. One of the other things I enjoy about it is Rumple seeing himself as the good guy. That doesn't mean that I approve of his method or that I see this plan of his as "good," but it's clear that in his mind he is acting the hero here and saving the town by stopping Ingrid himself. Again, doesn't mean I approve, but it does go to show just how quickly things can become skewed. That's sort of a theme in this fiction. Peace and Happy Reading!