After leaving Prince Lorrimer's chambers so Rumple could set to work, Phria had quickly seen to his orders. She'd gotten the castle properly locked down, the grounds searched for traps, holdouts and any other possible threat; explicit orders had been given to each and every person whether they'd arrived with her and Rumple or been found on site; and she'd posted Ser Chrysaor himself to guard the dungeon entrance. Oh, he'd not liked being reduced to lowly guard duty, but they were few in number and, thanks to that strategic mind of his, had quickly realized defying Phria wouldn't have been a good idea. Technically King Artem had put this operation together so he was the sovereign they answered to, making Ser Chrysaor the rightful commander. However, Phria answered to the man who'd just won over a real life dragon and was in the process of healing a prince, so he chose to go along with her orders for the time being.

While injured and almost alarmingly dehydrated, Marshal Estienne had agreed to smooth things over with the City Watch and everyone else down in St. Claes. In a way, Viren's appearance had been a boon to them since it gave them a very believable reason for Kalecaster being on lockdown, and why Gaston – who the city thought had been caring for Avonlea as some sort of training for when he married Princess Belle and became King – had suddenly vanished. While it would have been nice to throw Gaston under the carriage and out him as the evil monster he was, simply stating he died fighting a dragon was easier for all involved. The same went for Haldor Tvon, letting people think he'd died defending the castle was easier; even if Danyel Tvon would surely always suspect his brother had been up to something.

After erecting a makeshift triage to tend to the castle's staff's wounds and word had been sent to the city's healers for aid, Phria had sequestered herself away in a quiet corner which, after she'd actually glanced around the room, she'd come to realize was almost certainly Avonlea's war room. Cream walls, marble floors arranged in a classic chessboard pattern, small rack of weapons in the corner behind a chair and a gargantuan map sprawled over the large table – yes, she'd definitely found the war room. Alone with some quiet, Phria pulled the communication crystal Leotomas had issued her with from a pocket and made a thorough, detailed report to the Grand Mage.

Gaston and Tvon dead was the ideal outcome, of course, but Demeer had put Gretchen Havelock at Akula Prison on standby to receive a new prisoner. Frankly, he and Phria were both relieved they'd not have to imprison a second demon lord, Ravavena was more than enough. Their conversation was long and mostly focused on avoiding panic and if Maurice would have any lasting effects from having been ensnared by the Ring of Halinox for so long. Although, the moment Phria had informed Demeer about Viren, his eyes had shot wide and he'd launched numerous questions at her; half with a level of curiosity only a mage was capable of, while the other half were those of a man who couldn't quite figure out if dragons returning to Dreymyr was the best thing to happen or the worse. The humanoid races, mostly humans, had slaughtered dragons for wealth and because the Church had subtly pushed people to believe dragons were false deities. Both knew that, as soon as word of Viren reached the Church, they'd retaliate somehow. In recent years, the last decade or so, the Drazvan faith had seen a drop in their numbers, while those who did believe had a much more relaxed view of non-human species. It was their own fault, the zealots at the top like Grand Master Ferdinand Panzram had ruled with a vicious iron fist so long that they'd begun to push people away. Then there was that the kingdoms other than Olgarth had always been significantly more welcoming to those other species, and that their rulers weren't willing to be little more than a figurehead while the Church pulled the strings behind the scenes. Olgarth had started to fall apart from the inside and the Church hadn't hidden it as well as they thought. The Drazvans were the least of their concern at that moment though. Treating the wounded and calming the panicked public was the top of their list.

Her report made, and with orders to continue observing and reporting regularly, the communication crystal fell silent. Phria tucked it away then leaned on the table for a few moments of deserved peace and quiet. Her skin had grown cold where her armor had been cut open, she placed a hand over it and was instantly reminded of how Rumple had healed her without hesitation. 'Magic always comes with a price', those words were like a mantra for Rumple and Phria understood what he meant entirely. Magic had consequences, a lot of people forgot that or simply ignored it. Phria wouldn't ever forget it again though. The people of Dreymyr used magic every day for all manner of things, maybe mana stones were just a benign consequence while frenzied monsters on a rampage was a more malignant one. The pantherian woman sighed deeply. She was just a warrior with only magic enough to activate the spell in her crimson steel sword and wing gear, she could use some spells to fortify herself but that was about her limit. Had she jointed the Adventure's Guild rather than the Valkyries, Phria likely would have wound up iron-ranked just like Belle. All that said, maybe that was a good thing. Rumple was the strongest mage who would ever live, Belle's soul was so strong she could tame a waheela and Phria had become one of the strongest warriors the Valkyries had ever seen. Magic, soul and body, together the trio did make a well rounded team; didn't hurt that she and Belle both loved Rumple entirely.

Suddenly, she pushed herself to stand straight and gripped her sword hilt assuredly as she marched out of the war room. Phria had a job to do and she'd damn well do it. There wouldn't be more time for her to doubt herself or worry about her lack of magical prowess.

~X~

In Bruckstone Castle most of the Van Winchell's had gathered for afternoon tea along with the Dark One's children. Renner opted to linger in the background rather than joining the kids as he normally would have, but he'd wanted to be respectful to the royals around him; besides, he'd never really been an afternoon tea kind of person. Gottfried and his daughter sat on one side of the table with his mother, Queen Lilianne, while the three children sat on the other with their backs to the door. While Gottfried would have been perfectly content to skip afternoon tea and instead continue with the duties his father had given him, his mother had always insisted that her son and granddaughter spent this quiet time with her at least every other day; annoying sometimes but born out of love.

Having been married to Artem for the better part of sixty years, Lilianne was an older woman with gray hair held up intricately with pearl-headed pins and deep lines in her forehead. Her eyes though, they still held such youthful innocence and could easily put a whole room of advisors at ease should she have needed to. Like her husband, Lilianne had always been known as a wise and logical person who used her Drazvan faith to help protect all species as she identified as a steward. Meanwhile, her granddaughter, Princess Demelza, was the spitting image of her father complete with bold ginger hair. She had a preference for warmer tones which were always reflected in her gowns and, much to her constant annoyance, was flat as a board. Much like Belle, Demelza wasn't often too far from a book and possessed a sunny demeanor not normally seen.

The room had been fairly quiet since they'd all sat down to eat, just some light conversation mostly driven by Lilianne, until Artem entered more swiftly than a man of his age should have been capable. A large smile adorned his face and Renner thankfully managed to return his dagger to its sheath without anyone noticing; he didn't need people thinking he'd threatened the life of a king when really he'd just reacted to a loud noise. He supposed Demiurge was partially to thank, the tree cat's long tail had covered the blade mostly where he'd draped himself around Renner's neck. When one's life had been spared on the grounds one defended the Dark One's children, one damn well defended those children.

"Excellent news, my son," Artem began as he moved further into the room drawing everybody's attention. "Ser Chrysaor's mission has succeeded with hardly an injury or death to his men. Gaston LeGume and Haldor Tvon have been dispatched and Maurice is recovering. I'm told little Lorrimer is to be healed as well."

Gottfried's eyes widened with surprise. "Everything went that well, Father? I'm amazed fortune smiled on them so favorably."

To be perfectly honest, they all were.

"They had Rumpelstiltskin with them, we should cease underestimating his power."

Lilianne shuddered. "I am unsure I will ever be able to come to terms with the fact that, not only has the First Demon Lord returned to our lands, but we have aligned ourselves with him. While I understand not all stories are true, they all come with a kernel of truth. Part of myself wants to pray desperately to Drazva that he leaves Dorovoth and our family unscathed, but then I look at his children and I wonder; how can a man allegedly so evil have given these three darlings so much love and protection?"

"Skepticism is perfectly normal, Grandmama, natural even. It is as my dear Richard always says though; if we are not willing to listen and learn, then we shall never move forward."

"I knew giving him your hand was a smart decision," smiled Gottfried as he mused aloud.

Artem eased his old body into a his usual chair at the head of the table. "It is Lorrimer I am most impressed with. According to Ser Chrysaor's report, Rumpelstiltskin has not only been able to diagnose his illness, but also set to work curing it. Demon Lord he may be, but I am glad we know him."

While Bae and Amicia were both old enough and had experienced enough of the social hierarchy of the world to think before they butted into a conversation between adults; especially when those adults were the kingdom's royal family. Meanwhile, Valdis, being the youngest and having never suffered slavery or imprisonment, was not.

"Our papa is fantastic! He made all my pain go away, made me small again."

The Van Winchell's simply smiled fondly at young Valdis. Her wings and totally black eyes might have alarmed them at first, but nobody could deny she was such a sweet girl. Lilianne had never been blessed with a daughter, so took any opportunity she could to pamper a little girl. Since Demelza had grown out of childhood, she'd been left with a void that Amicia and Valdis had accidentally started to fill. Lilianne knew that the Church would have called Valdis an abomination, but she believed in Drazva not the Church and wouldn't throw such terrible words at a child.

"Grandpapa, there is something else, isn't there? You wouldn't be this excited simply because the mission to free King Maurice had gone so well."

Artem smirked as he ran an aged hand through his thick beard. "Right you are, my clever granddaughter, right you are. Ser Chrysaor did mention one other thing which – well, I wouldn't have believed it if he'd not turned the communication crystal so I could see for myself." When numerous sets of expectant and curious eyes turned to him, Artem elaborated. "It would seem the dragons are not as extinct as we believed."

Gottfried nearly choked on his tea. "Dragon?! No, Father, dragons can't possibly still exist. Surely we'd have sighted at least one."

"I saw it myself, son, the giant thing sat at the base of Kalecaster's mage tower with hardly a care in the world surrounded by cooling liquid rock. A real, very much alive, dragon of blood-colored scales. Ser Chysaor said Rumpelstiltskin insisted the dragon was Viren himself."

Lilianne dropped her fork causing an ear-shattering clatter while Renner audibly gulped and Bae instinctively moved closer to his new sisters. Dragons were dangerous, didn't matter which realm one came from, everybody knew it. If dragons – if the cardinal dragons had returned to Dreymyr then there would surely be panic and discord throughout the kingdoms.

"Are you saying Rumpelstiltskin has … domesticated this dragon?"

"I doubt anyone could domesticate a dragon, Gottfried, even Rumpelstiltskin. Although, until we know more, I'd warn against jumping to conclusions. The return of dragons is not something we should pepper with assumptions."

"We couldn't defend against a dragon attack though, Artem."

The old king turned to his beloved wife. "Worry not. It isn't as though Viren, if it really is Viren, is planning on wiping out Gorasitz. I think-"

Suddenly a servant entered with a white envelope gripped tightly in his hand. He rounded the table and set it before the King while apologizing for the interruption; as soon as Artem saw the hamster seal in red wax, he understood why the servant had hurried quite so quickly; Artem had insisted any letters from the Grand Mage were treated with the utmost priority. Everyone watched and waited as Artem read the letter from Demeer which had clearly been delivered by the fastest bird he possessed. Only when Artem's face fell did Demelza enquire about the letter's contents.

"What is it, Grandpapa? Surely it cannot be such terrible news."

Artem passed the letter to his son so he could read it for himself as he spoke. "The Church, they know the Dark One has returned. The cat is officially out of the bag and, though the Knightly Order hasn't been mobilized, it is only because they don't know where Rumpelstiltskin is. According to the Grand Mage, the Pontiff gave a speech about it this morning in St. Matilda."

Lilianne sighed. "A speech full of spite, no doubt. Word should be sent to Kalecaster."

As a child Lilianne had possessed a level of respect for the Church due to her faith but, as she'd grown older and witnessed for herself the cruelty the Church inflicted on those who were not human, she'd grown morally disgusted and separated herself from them. The Church had become a business with religion as a smokescreen in her eyes. All Lilianne was to pray in her own little chapel, she followed the Mother Goddess, not Pontiff Andrew Buchanan.

"Father, I fear the Church's retaliation when they discover we have aided the Dark One more than if Rumpelstiltskin were to turn on us. Dragons be damned, I don't need the Knightly Order using this as an excuse to storm Bruckstone and label us all as heretics."

Though it had been fairly well hidden from Dreymyr's commoners and lesser nobles, most royals and the Grand Mage of course, had been long aware of the Pontiff's increasing desire to build the Drazvan Holy Empire, a papal state. None of it was about faith for the ruling members of the Church, just power. Olgarth had steadily been twisted and brought further under the control of the Church since the Faith War. However, with the Dark One's return they'd be able to use fear to again swell their congregations and further use that fear as a reason to topple a kingdom's sovereign if they thought they stood enough chance. This knowledge was why most royals had quietly distanced themselves from the Church's influence despite being Drazvan.

A war was coming, all knew that, the problem was that nobody could quite figure out when, who would be on which side or which group would start it.

After a long stretch of silence where even Demelza's sunny demeanor had faded, Bae piped up. At first he'd not been sure he should say anything but, what he had to say might have provided some comfort and security.

"Em, Your Majesty?" Though directed at the King it was the Queen who responded with a sweet smile.

"What is it, sweet child? You may speak freely. You are the First Demon Lord's children, so practically royalty yourselves."

Practically royalty themselves? Was that how powerful and begrudgingly revered Rumple was? Surely not. Regardless, Bae was a peasant who'd come from a village so small in the Frontlands that it hadn't even had a proper name. He set all of that aside for the time being.

"Well, you could always make a deal with my papa. Like the ones kingdoms make."

"You mean a truce?" Gottfried supplied which earned a nod from Bae. "Truces can be broken."

"Not with my papa. You saved me thinking he would be grateful and not hurt you or your people." While not the whole reason Artem had protected Bae, it had played a big part. "I'll admit, I hated him for a long time, hated him. But, as time went on I realized I hated the darkness inside him, not him. That darkness, I'm not sure it's still there. He's better here. And, it doesn't matter what realm he's in, my papa keeps his word. He never goes back on a deal."

"How could you be so sure, sweet boy?" Questioned Lilianne softly. "A man as powerful as him could change his mind at any time and we'd be unable to do anything about it."

"He wouldn't go back on it, Your Majesty. My papa broke only one deal, a deal I made with him, and it was how we ended up separated. He broke one deal and it was the worst thing he ever did, because of that he won't ever break another."

The royals thought Bae's words over for several moments.

"A truce with the Dark One, I'd have never thought of that." Artem ran a hand through his beard again as was his habit. "Very well, Baelfire, I doubt there would be much harm in asking Rumpelstiltskin about it."

~X~

When Rumple had finally finished curing Prince Lorrimer, he'd felt drained and a savage headache had afflicted him. The boy would sleep for quite some time, with how much fighting had been going on inside his body, nobody could really blame him. Maurice had been skeptical that anything had changed at first, but Belle had quickly noticed the redness in her brother's cheeks had faded and

his temperature had returned to normal, as had his breathing rate. Yes, her adorable little brother was finally safe and she owed it all to the man she loved.

Belle had thrown herself into his arms crying and whispering words of thanks over and over and over again. Lorrimer would live! He'd grow and get to experience the world rather than just his bedchambers and what he could see beyond his windows. As a young girl, she'd lost count of how many physicians and mages had examined Lorrimer, all had failed to so much as ease his symptoms. Rumple though, he'd cured her brother and given him back his life.

"You needn't thank me, Belle." He told her quietly as he embraced her. "It was our deal."

Belle shook her head. "No, you've done so much more than what was agreed in our deal. I never imagined you'd be able to save Lorrimer. I love you so much."

"Aye, and I love you."

The man with golden-green skin was exhausted, needed to sit down and get some water to ease the damn headache. So he quietly extracted himself from Belle and made his way to the door under the guise of giving the du Marchand family some time to themselves. However, as the door opened, Maurice spoke.

"… Thank you, Dark One."

Oh it must have taken so much effort for King Maurice to get those words out. He'd seen Rumple as the beast who'd stolen his daughter away and slaughtered many inside Kalecaster Castle, but the man wasn't so naïve that he couldn't see the miracle Rumple had just performed. Maurice might not have wanted Rumple near his children, but he was grateful for what he'd done and man enough to show gratitude.

Rumple didn't respond to Maurice's words, simply left him and Belle alone in Lorrimer's bedchambers and found his way onto a balcony for some quiet. He summoned a waterskin from his vault and helped himself to an indulgent gulp. A smile settled itself upon his face without his permission. He'd not expected doing something good and noble to feel quite so … good. Maybe Bae had been correct and Rumple could be better.

Just when Rumple's headache had started to ease and his body had quit screaming at him for having stood in one position for so long, there was an alarming flap and Viren few up to hover just beyond the balcony wall. A violent flap of those gargantuan wings could have shattered every window on the south side of the castle.

"You made a pact with me, Dark One." Said the fire dragon. "I told you I would be patient for the Prince's and Princess' sakes, but you try my patience now."

Rumple sighed and set the waterskin away. "Yes, yes, dearie, keep your scales on."

Apparently the old axiom of 'there's no rest for the wicked' was still quite true and, while he wouldn't ever be Zelena, he was quite wicked. Who else could say they'd saved a kingdom, a prince and a baby dragon all in one day; not even dear Charming would have been able to boast such a feat.