#this is me rooting for rumplestiltskin to turn around and not be evil | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

swanqueeneverafter · 3 years

Text

The Once & Future Queen Pt.34

The Dochraid's Sacred Cave. (The Dochraid pulls herself to her feet, chanting.) Dochraid: "Gehaele thisne lichaman. Gestrangeme nu mihtig hie to forwarniene; yfel is on ofost. (While the Dochraid chants, she attaches a message to a crow’s leg:) Fleoge thu swa swa se windraesgrimsath.” (When she finishes her chant, the crow flies out of the cave.) The Cauldron of Arianrhod. (A small group has gathered for what promises to be the site of Morgana’s cleansing.) Emma: “Can the Dochraid be trusted? Is there really a remedy?” Regina: “If Morgana has suffered what I suspect then no, I don’t think so.” Emma: “You know what happened to her?” Regina: “Just because Rumplestiltskin refused to venture into the realm of the High Priestesses, doesn’t mean I never looked into them. After some research and books borrowed from Maleficent, I read about an ancient ritual of the Old Religion called the Teine Diaga.” Emma: “Teine Diaga?” Regina: “The sacred fire. The ritual used the mandrake root to bring unimaginable terror to the victim. Their screams could be heard twenty leagues away. When it was finally over, their will was no longer their own. They were slaves of the High Priestesses for eternity.” Emma: “Do you think Morgause performed this ritual on Morgana?” Regina: “It’s possible. Such mysteries were revealed only to a handful of female initiates." Emma: “Well, either way, the Dochraid told Guinevere that Morgana needs to be conscious when she enters the Cauldron. She must do so of her own free will or the spell will not be broken.” Regina: “Hm, that part, I fear, may not be within even our powers.” Emma: “Then the rest is futile.” Regina: “But there is someone for whom it is possible.” Emma: “Who? (Regina merely stares at her:) Guinevere?” Regina: (Nods:) “Only she can reach the part of Morgana that remains true.” Emma: “It won’t work. Morgana turned Guinevere into a deer for crying out loud!” Regina: “And I put a sleeping curse on Snow White and now I’m married to her daughter. Surely after everything we’ve been through you don’t underestimate the power of love, Emma? Guinevere is the only one who knew Morgana from before. She’s the key.” Emma: “Well, we’re about to find out.” (They turn to see Morgana, surrounded by knights, being led towards the Cauldron.)

(The sound of footsteps cause Emma and Regina to turn stare at an ancient looking woman as she steps out from behind some large rocks.) Dolma: “Who are you? What business have you in this sacred place?” Guinevere: “Are you the Dolma, ancient sorceress of the Cauldron of Arianrhod?” (The Dolma extends her hands and inclines her head.) Dolma: “Who else would I be?” Guinevere: (To Lancelot:) “Does she look familiar to you?” Lancelot: “There is something…” Dolma: “What say you? Why do you mutter?” Lancelot: “You look familiar, sorceress.” Dolma: (Raises a hand to touch her hair:) “Oh. Is that so?” Lancelot: “It is.” Dolma: “Perhaps our paths have crossed before, Tall, dark stranger. (She bats her eyes at him:) My memory is not what it once was, but I swear I would have remembered you.” (Lancelot looks to the Dolma with suspicion, preparing to unsheath his sword as she moves closer to him. Guinevere stifles her giggles at the look on Lancelot’s face and steps between them.) Guinevere: “Apologies, Dolma, but I’m afraid Lancelot is spoken for.” Dolma: “Shame. I am an old woman, it’s true, but I would have given you the thrill of your young life, Sir Lancelot.” (The knights begin to snigger while Lancelot looks bemused.) Guinevere: “You know why we’re here.” Dolma: “Nothing is hidden from… the Dolma. Come, we shall stand by the pool. (The party follows the Dolma towards the edge of the body of water. Approaching Morgana, the Dolma places her hands on Morgana’s face, looking into her eyes:) The magic which has ensnared you is strong indeed. It can be fought. It can be broken, but it may also prevail. Do you understand this?” (Morgana says nothing, her attention caught by the arrival of Xena and Gabrielle.) Guinevere: “I do.” Dolma: “What we attempt will not be easy. If we fail, Morgana will be lost forever.” Guinevere: “I understand.”

Dolma: “Very well. In order for this to work, Morgana must walk into the Cauldron of Arianrhod of her own will. Only then will the spell be broken. But be warned, all the magic that binds her will fight against it. You must reach her, Guinevere. Reach that part which has remained untouched by evil.” Lancelot: “Is there such a part?” Dolma: (To Guinevere:) “You must believe there is. Prepare yourself.” (Guinevere nods, then motions to Regina to remove the cuff from Morgana’s wrist. At the very moment she can feel her powers return, Morgana smiles.) Morgana: “Fools.” (Raising her arms, Morgana emits a pulse of magic that sends Emma, Regina and the knights flying. The Dolma runs behind Lancelot clutching onto him for dear life. Turning her attention to Xena and Gabrielle, Morgana uses her powers to blast some rocks in their path and cause a rock slide to crash towards them. Ducking between some large boulders, Xena and Gabrielle find shelter from the deluge.) Gabrielle: “I think we may have arrived a little early.” Xena: “Nah, we’re right on time.” (Brandishing her chakram, Xena steps out from their hiding spot and spins through the air to land mere feet from the vengeful sorceress. Raising her hand once more, Morgana is about to strike when Guinevere stands before her.) Morgana: “Move out of my way, Guinevere.” Guinevere: “Never. You wear the uniform of a callous sorceress well but we both know what lies beneath.” Morgana: “Your naïveté would be charming if it wasn’t so dangerous. You brought me here to strip me of my powers, to make me weak?” Guinevere: “I seek only to save the woman I knew all those years ago. To finally repay she who fought with everything in her power to see that I was rescued.” Forest. Past. (Morgana and Guinevere run along the forest path but Guinevere's ankle will not support her any longer.) Guinevere: "It’s no use! I’ll get us both captured. You must leave me." Morgana: "I will not!" Guinevere: "Morgana, go! Please! You must get help!" (Morgana sees the men catching up to them and hands Guinevere the sword.) Morgana: “Take this.” Guinevere: “Go!” (Morgana runs. Guinevere hides behind a tree, then jumps out and takes down the man pursuing them. Morgana stops when she hears the man’s scream, then continues running.)

Camelot. Council Chamber. (Morgana enters with Arthur.) Uther: (Rising from the throne:) “It’s such a relief to see you safe. (Cups her face:) I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone harming you.” Morgana: “The bandits still have Guin.” Arthur: “I believe they were Mercian. We’ve received reports that Hengist has crossed the border.” Uther: “Hengist?” Morgana: “You must send a rescue party.” Uther: “If Hengist is holding her, it would take a small army to rescue your maid.” Morgana: “We can’t abandon her!” Uther: “How many men would you have me sacrifice to save a servant?” Morgana: “As many as it takes! Guin gave herself up so that I might escape. I owe her my life.” Uther: “She did so willingly, and she will be honoured for it.” (Uther turns back towards the throne but Morgana pursues him.) Morgana: (Grabbing his arm:) “I don’t want her honoured, I want her rescued! She is more than just my maid. She’s my friend.” Uther: (Takes a breath:) “A servant is of no value to these bandits. (Puts his hands on her shoulders:) I fear she’s dead already.” Morgana: “No! (Shrugs out of his grasp:) We cannot give up hope! (Turns to Arthur, beseechingly:) Arthur? I’m begging you. You have to do something.” Arthur: “Your father’s right, Milady. I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.” Morgana: “How can you say that?! (Looks around the room:) How can you live with yourselves?! All of you!” Arthur’s Chambers. Night. (Morgana bursts in.) Morgana: “How can you be so heartless?! Guin is the most kind, loyal person that you would ever meet, and she has been more than a friend to all of us! And you would leave her at the mercy of those animals!” Arthur: “Morgana…” Morgana: “Have you no shame? Do you think of no one but yourself?” Arthur: “Morgana…” Morgana: “I knew you were many things, Arthur, but I didn’t know you were a gutless coward!” Arthur: “Morgana! Perhaps if you would stop shouting at me for one second, you would notice that I am packing.” Morgana: (Calms and looks down:) “You’re going after Guin.” Arthur: “Of course I’m going after her. What do you take me for? I couldn’t disagree with the King in public.” (Arthur puts his saddlebags over his shoulder and walks towards the door.) Morgana: (Calling after him:) “Arthur? (He turns:) Bring her home.” Camelot. Staircase. Two Days Later. (Morgana stands on the Griffin landing staring worriedly out the window. Arthur walks up the stairs.) Arthur: “Morgana. There’s someone here to see you.” (Arthur steps aside and Guinevere runs into Morgana’s arms.) Morgana: “Guin! I thought I’d never see you again.” (Arthur gives Guinevere a knowing look as she hugs Morgana. He gives them their space and returns down the steps.) The Cauldron of Arianrhod. Present. (Morgana stands listening to Guinevere while she continues their journey down memory lane.) Guinevere: “Then, when I returned to work after my father’s death, I saw further evidence of the kind of person you truly are, Morgana.” Morgana’s Chambers. Past. (Morgana enters her chambers, where Guinevere sits waiting. She goes to Morgana quickly.) Guinevere: “My Lady!” Morgana: “Guin. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Guinevere: “What happened to you?!” Morgana: “Nothing. Well, nothing a hot bath wouldn’t fix. (Guinevere sees the sores on Morgana’s arms where the manacles bit into her flesh:) I spent the night in the dungeon.” Guinevere: “Uther.” Morgana: “He doesn’t like to be challenged.” Guinevere: “It wasn’t about my father, was it?” Morgana: “You have enough to deal with without worrying about such things.” Guinevere: “You shouldn’t have done that! Not on my behalf. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t bear it.” Morgana: “You need to go home, Guin. Get some rest. Please.” Guinevere: “I’m fine, My Lady.” Morgana: “I insist. (Guinevere walks past Morgana with her head bowed, picking up a hair brush:) Guin? (Guin stops, her back to Morgana, trying not to cry:) Guin?” Guinevere: “I can’t go home!” Morgana: (Placing her hand on her shoulder:) “It’s understandable to feel so alone.” Guinevere: (Walks away:) “Tauren…” Morgana: “Tauren?!” Guinevere: “He attacked me. He threatened me. He was looking for some kind of stone.” Morgana: “Stone?” Guinevere: “He said if I didn’t bring it to him, he’d kill me. He’s waiting for me in the Darkling Woods. I have to do something. If I don’t get this stone to him by dawn tomorrow… (Morgana begins walking off purposefully:) What are you going to do? Morgana?!”

The Cauldron of Arianrhod. Present. (Taking Morgana’s hand, Guinevere begins leading her to the water’s edge.) Guinevere: “Morgana. My Morgana.” Morgana: “Your Morgana? I was never yours and never will be. You chose Arthur and now Lancelot.” Dolma: “You must reach her, Guinevere. Reach out or all is lost.” Morgana: (Glancing at the Dolma:) “Who’s this old crone?” Guinevere: “We loved each other once.” Morgana: (Tersely:) “You are easily fooled, Guin.” Guinevere: “And still do.” Morgana: “You were my handmaiden, nothing more.” Guinevere: “I don’t believe that.” (Morgana struggles to free herself from Guinevere’s grasp, but the Queen will not release her.) Morgana: “Believe what you like. The fact remains.” (Guinevere begins to pull Morgana towards the pool as she struggles.) Dolma: “No! It must be of her own will!” (Guinevere pulls Morgana close until they are face to face.) Guinevere: “Look at me. Tell me you don’t love me.” Morgana: “Let me go!” Dolma: “Guinevere!” Guinevere: “Do you remember when I asked you why you fought so fiercely to free me or stood up to your father on my behalf all those times? Do you remember what you said? You said that we were more than friends and that you loved me ‘With all of my heart.’ That’s what you said, Morgana. That was no subterfuge. No trickery. (Morgana stops struggling and stares at Guinevere:) With all my heart. (Guinevere walks slowly backwards towards the lake:) With all my heart.” (Morgana’s breath hitches as Guinevere steps into the lake.) Morgana: (Softly:) “With all my heart…” (Guinevere extends a hand to Morgana and she follows her towards the lake.) Guinevere: “Come.” (Morgana places her hand in Guinevere’s and steps into the water.) Dolma: “Yfel gaest, ga thu fram thisselichaman. Bith hire mod eft freo. Ar ond heofonutungol sceal thurhswithan.” (The Dolma’s eyes glow golden and Morgana is surrounded by a brilliant white light. When the light dissipates, she turns to smile at Guinevere, extending her hand to her. Guinevere wades towards her and embraces Morgana. The Dolma smiles, exhaling in relief.)

(Stepping out to join Xena, Gabrielle watches the two women embrace in the water. Looking to Xena, they share a smile, surprised and invigorated by what they’ve just witnessed.) Morgana: (Parting from their hug, looks into Guinevere's eyes, softly:) "Thank you, Guin." (Guinevere gives her a teary smile and takes Morgana's hand, leading her out of the water towards shore.) Regina: (As they step out of the water:) "Here." (Regina waves her hand and both women disappear and reappear in a cloud of smoke, their clothes now completely dry. Morgana looks around at all that have gathered and is about to say something when she is knocked backwards through the air. Morgana is rendered unconscious by the impact of her fall.)

(Everyone turns to see Mordred lower his hand. Guinevere rushes to Morgana’s side and Emma and Regina prepare to use their magic against him when a voice rings out across the valley.) Xena: “Hey!” (Mordred turns his attention to her and is barely able to move out of the path of Xena’s weapon as it barrels towards him. Realising that he is outnumbered, Mordred vanishes while Xena catches her chakram.) A Short Time Later. (By the Cauldron of Arianrhod, Lancelot and Guinevere stand before the Dolma.) Guinevere: “I owe you a great debt. We both do. If there’s ever anything I can do in return…” Lancelot: “Perhaps a new dress?” Guinevere: (Outraged:) “Lancelot!” Lancelot: “Just a thought.” Dolma: (Looks down for a moment before answering:) “There is one thing.” Guinevere: “Name it.” Dolma: “Remember what saved your friend. Magic and sorcery.” Lancelot: “It was also sorcery that bewitched her.” Dolma: “There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men. My request is that you remember this.” Guinevere: “You have my word.” (The Dolma gives Guinevere a small smile, bowing her head slightly. They begin to walk away when the Dolma calls out.) Dolma: “Oh, and Lancelot? (Lancelot turns back:) Don’t be a stranger.” (She gives him a broad smile and a wave. Lancelot returns the smile uneasily and looks to Guinevere who is doing her very best not to laugh.)

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

9 notes · View notes

eirian-houpe · 3 years

Text

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 41

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Read Previous Chapters on AO3

Chapter 41 - Memory and Vision

Gold offered her his arm as they stepped away from the Cadillac, and as if in some strange court in a bygone era the two walked toward the entrance to the Festival Field. As they approached, Belle tried to take everything in; the lights hung in small strings of every shade imaginable, shining in the evening even though it would be many hours until sunset. The sounds of children’s laughter as they ran, alive and free, between colorful tents and the legs of indulgent adults. Everywhere the low murmur of voices joined in conversation and in celebration, in companionship beside tables laden with wares of every kind imaginable, over which spread colorful awnings hung with lights.

On the breeze, light for now, the myriad scents whirled like dervishes in the air, bringing the deliciousness of cooking meats and vegetables to Belle’s senses, making her realize how hungry she was, and the sweetness of juices, fruit and the tang of alcohol, how thirsty. In even more subtle intermittent waves, Belle was sure she caught the scent of sweet incenses, and rarer yet, deeper scents that made her yearn deeply, her breath catching as she felt the slow coiling of arousal hint as to its presence in her belly.

“This is…” she swallowed hard and glanced at Gold, whose smile was warm and knowing, “…amazing, and… well, somewhat pagan.”

“You’ll find that much of Storybrooke and many of its residents have their roots in other times than the present,” he replied, but hadn’t the chance to say more as they were both interrupted by the loud, excited cry given by Leroy, the Gatekeeper to the town’s festival.

“You’re here!” he called out, and stepped forward without any heed to Gold’s presence to wrap Belle in a sudden and consuming hug before holding her out to arms’ length. “And look at you!”

She couldn’t help but let out a short, but happy, peal of laughter and looked at Leroy in his finery, which for him consisted of a linen shirt beneath a padded vest, and brown pants tucked into knee length boots; no shining brocade for him, but it felt right. It looked right in a way she couldn’t explain.

Then, as if remembering himself, Leroy cleared his throat and stepped back, picking up two goblets from a nearby table.

“And Mister Gold,” he said, “Welcome to the Miner’s Day Festival!”

He held out the goblets, and Belle saw Gold gesture to her to take one, before he, himself accepted the offered goblet, and murmured a response to the man in front of him.

“May the coming year be as prosperous as this,” he said.

“Right on, brother!” Leroy responded, and Belle almost choked on the sip of sticky, sweet liquid in the goblet. Never would she had believed anyone would dare to refer in such a way to Gold, but it seemed this one evening, Mister Gold did not in fact mind such a thing, and with a nod to Leroy, downed the contents of his cup, before handing it back to him.

Taking her cue from Mister Gold, Belle also drank down the delicious mead and handed back her cup, before she took Gold’s arm once more, and Leroy allowed them both to pass into the festival grounds.

“This has grown considerably since it’s early days,” Gold told her softly, leaning closer so that she could hear. “To the point where we had to move it out here to accommodate… everything.”

“It’s amazing,” she said, her head turning as though on a swivel, and Gold chuckled again.

“Go ahead,” he nodded toward the grounds themselves. “Take a proper look around if you’d like. I don’t want to hold you back, and if you turn your head much more, you’ll be giving yourself whiplash.”

Belle chuckled, and then asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” he said with a smile, “and when you’re done rambling, you can come and find me. Most likely I’ll be in the open space by the fire.”

“Thank you,” she said, her face cracking into a grin that she hadn’t worn since she was a child, at least as far as she could remember.

“Go on,” he said, “Enjoy yourself. That’s what this is all about, after all.”

She squeezed his arm, and then before she could allow herself to feel guilty about wanting to see everything, she stepped away, into the crowds, and began to look around at all that was on offer.

The very first stall she came to was the ones run by the nuns, and it seemed they were selling an array of candles; home made, or presumably made at the convent, they smelled strongly of honey and essential oils. There was an information sheet taped to the blue fabric that covered the wood of the cart that made their stall, and Belle paused to read it.

Traditionally, the nuns at our convent exchanged candles with the Miners for coal to help power our boilers and keep the convent warm. It was through this exchange that Miner’s Day Festival began.

She smiled at the sister behind the cart, a beautiful woman with wavy, reddish-brown hair and a wide smile.

“We can save one for you,” the nun said, “If you’re like?”

“I’d like that,” Belle said. “You know what? Put me down for two.”

“You’re very kind.” The other woman reached for a pen and clip board that were behind the candles. “My name is Sister Astrid.”

“Belle,” she answered.

“Oh, the librarian,” Astrid’s smile was almost dazzling. “It’s wonderful that it’s open again, truly. You must be very busy.”

Astrid handed the clip board to Belle for her to fill in her details, and as she wrote, Belle answered, “Most days. There’s certainly been a lot of interest.”

“That’s wonderful!” Astrid exclaimed as Belle handed back the clipboard. “Well… thank you for this. We’ll get them to you as soon as we can.”

“Thank you,” Belle said returning the nun’s genuine smile, before she excused herself.

“Enjoy the rest of the evening,” Astrid called after her.

Belle lost herself for a while, in the many carts and stalls; the people of Storybrooke selling their wares. So many people in town seemed to have special skills about which Belle had no idea, it opened her eyes to the sense of old world community that must exist. She’d known Storybrooke was special, but she hadn’t realized quite how much. Until now. Marco with his carvings, and August with paper made by hand - and Belle made a mental note so seek him out after the festival; Granny, of course, with her pies and baked goods… Only a few she knew by name. All manner of crafts and services were on offer, and she delighted in each and every one.

She had no idea how long she had wandered, but eventually her feet took her, by instinct - or perhaps by unconscious notice that most everyone seemed to be drifting toward the open space, where a huge bonfire - safely cordoned off - had been built and stood ready to light. She spotted Gold, and he smiled as she approached, and once she was near enough, handed her what looked like a tall iced lemon drink.

“I thought you might be thirsty after all that wandering,” he said softly.

“I am, yes,” she said, and took a sip. Flavor exploded on her tongue, lemon and flowers and honey all at once and the cool of the ice in the drink made it all the more refreshing. “This is delicious,” she said, “What is it?”

“Elderflower lemon punch,” Gold answered. “Old Missus Souter and her children make it every year. One of the highlights of the festival for me.”

“Well, it’s just perfect for a hot summer evening,” she said. “And if it’s only one of the highlights, what are the others?”

Gold chuckled, and the sound went right through her. “Can’t give away all my secrets, now can I, Miss Marchland.” He smiled, a secretive wait-and-see kind of smile, and Belle shivered.

It wasn’t long before the assembled throng, the gathered mass of Storybrooke’s citizens, began mixing and mingling in the space, exchanging greetings, some embracing like long lost friends, and when the music began, so too did the dancing.

Folk tunes filled the air with melody and laughter, and the dancers let themselves dance freely, even though they seemed all somehow in perfect synchrony; a true ceilidh, full of joy. It was only as she looked around at the whirling colors of the beautiful dresses, and the suits worn by the men that she realized that one notable person was conspicuous by her absence: Mayor Mills. She turned to ask Gold if the Mayor ever came to the events, only to find the space behind her, where he had been, quite empty.

She frowned, and looked around, but could not see him anywhere. It was as though he had suddenly vanished out of existence. She did, however, see someone else, and smiled as she saw Paige sitting with some of the other children - the ones who were not dancing their own little jigs in a separate space from the adults. She wandered that way.

“Paige,” she greeted her, “You made it. Are you having fun?”

Paige made a face and said, “I told you, I hate this thing. It’s stupid, but I have to come because Miss Trude convinced my mum that it would be good for me, and besides, they need someone older to look after the little kids.”

“Well, I would have thought that’s a good thing,” Belle said, trying not to frown at the mention of the neighbor’s name. “Taking care of the younger ones.”

“Yeah, that is, it’s just all the rest of it,” Paige sighed, “All the grown ups dancing and being crazy… drinking and then… well…” she shrugged and blushing didn’t say anything more for a while, until she said, “I like it when night finally comes, and it’s good to be able to stay awake late.”

Belle smiled. “And is your mother here?” she asked.

Paige shook her head, and said, “Miss Trude brought me. She’s out there somewhere.” She gestured to the whirling mass.

“What about your father?” Belle asked, and as she said it, realized that Paige had never mentioned her father in all the time she had been coming to the library.

Paige shook her head again, a sad expression of longing crossing her face. “No,” was all she said, then, “Shouldn’t you be dancing?”

Belle started to open her mouth to tell Paige that she didn’t know the steps and that she wasn’t much for dancing anyway, but a familiar voice sounded behind her.

“She’s right, you know?”

She turned to see Jefferson in a top hat, and long tail coat, a vibrant purple scarf tied around his neck over a shirt in pink beneath the a slightly darker pink vest.

“And may I say, you’re looking lovely, this evening, Belle,” he added with a bow as he swept off his hat, behind her, she heard Paige giggle.

“Thank you, Jefferson,” she said, and eyed his now outstretched hand as though it would bite her.

“Come,” he said stretching out his hand again. “You’ll want to be out there when night begins to fall. Trust me.”

She didn’t miss the slight shift of his eyes to look over her shoulder at the children, and she glanced behind her to see Paige staring back, and the other children sitting with her all but open mouthed with wonder at the mention of nightfall.

“You’re up to something,” she accused softly, looking back at Jefferson.

“Isn’t everyone?” he asked without a hint of guile.

A third time he stretched out his hand, and this time she took it, allowing him to lead her to where everyone was dancing, spinning and turning, and without a moment’s hesitation he took her in a dancer’s hold and joined in with the merriment, leading her, somehow almost flawlessly through the steps and turns.

She couldn’t help but laugh, becoming giddy with it, and with the atmosphere of the evening that grew ever later, and maybe… perhaps… whatever was in that punch that Gold had gotten for her.

As she thought of Gold, she began to wonder where he had disappeared to once more. She turned her head from her random efforts to search the crowd, meaning to ask Jefferson if he had seen him, an as she did, a huge smile broke on his face, so wide that it was almost dazzling. With a final spin, he let go of her hand, and sent her spinning out toward the edge of the dancing revelers, toward a slight rise in the field, almost a hillside.

There, she stumbled to a stop just as the music faded away into a crackling of fire, and looking down toward the field she saw seven men, barely recognizing Leroy among them, who approached the huge bonfire with burning brands in their hands.

“The night has come at last!” They called out in unison.

“And so,” One of the nuns, whom she recognized as the Mother Superior stood at the fireside, and answered the shout of the men, “Thanks to you all, we shall all be graced with light.”

At her answer, the men thrust their flaming torches into the base of the bonfire, and with an almost explosive crackle, the fire burst into life.

Belle gasped, a solitary echo of the collective exclamation given off by Storybrooke. It was a magical moment, truly magical; special in a way she could not explain, not even to herself.

A moment later, colorful stars bejeweled the darkening sky in blue and red and golden light. Belle was momentarily transfixed. Then, she felt a heat at her back, and strong, warm fingers closed around her own, caressing softly before their fingers intertwined.

Fireworks paled, and the world slowed, became indistinct against the presence of the man behind her. She knew this man… loved him with the very essence of herself. It flashed through her like a pulse, and a strong, soft breeze lifted the wisps of her hair that had escaped their bindings, and she remembered.

Rumplestiltskin… “Why did you come back?” I wasn’t going to, but then… something changed my mind…. A kiss. “Uh… what’s happening?” I’m coming back, Rumple. “Isn’t that sweet. Still fighting for true love, even to the bitter end.”

The visions, memories came thick and fast, gathering momentum, but like a video played in reverse.

”I’m not a coward, dearie. It’s quite simple really… my power… means more to me than you.” No, no it doesn’t. You just don’t think I can love you. “Shut up.” This means it’s true love. “Shut the hell up!” But… town? You trust me to come back? “Oh, no. I expect I’ll never see you again.”

Sensations and emotions bubbled inside of her, everything coming so thick and fast that she could make no sense of it, and yet, in her heart it made perfect sense. Everything spun, backward and forward, out of order, filling her with an ache in her heart, a longing through the whole of her, her eyes hot with tears she could neither shed nor keep from falling.

”What made you choose to come here with me?” Heroism. Sacrifice. “I want something a bit more… special.” I'm so sorry but, uh... it's.. it's chipped. “My price… is her.” I think you were lonely. I mean, any man would be lonely. “It’s just a cup.” So… what are you going to do with me? “It’s forever, dearie.” No one decides my fate but me! “Who told you that? Who knows that!” I will go, with you, fore—

Suddenly breathless, Belle snatched her hand from his, stumbled as the spinning world fell over her. She sucked in a breath, the world settling. Trembling, she let out a shuddering breath. What’s happening?

She shook her head, barely glanced at Gold, at the disbelief and pain on his face, but behind it all something else, something… ephemeral. Then, unable to steady the too fast beat of her heart, she turned and fled.

Blinded, to where she was going, she collided with someone, and barely heard Jefferson call her name. She didn’t stop. She needed space. She needed air, but if she had looked back, she would have seen Jefferson and Gold exchanging agonized glances.

#rumbelle #AU (slight)#cursed storybrooke #angst #eventual smut #the library beneath the clock tower #The Bookshop on the Corner #i will always write jefferson

1 note · View note

cssns · 5 years

Text

It’s monthly roundup time!!!

Can you believe it? October is over and what a month it was! Between these updates, the CSBB, FallforCS and Cocktober I got seriously behind in my reading! So if you are like me, you’ll be thankful for this roundup of all the fics that updated in the month of October. Be sure to give the authors and artists some love when you see their work! Sorry this is a little late, but it’s still Nov 1 on the west coast! So without further ado, here we go!

Close Encounters of the Spiritual Kind by @doodlelolly0910 chs12 13 14 15 artwork by @courtorderedcake

Emma Nolan spent a lot of time alone, and that was fine by her. Because one is never truly alone. She should know. She can talk to dead people. What she didn’t expect was one of these spiritual encounters to hang around, taking her down a rabbit hole of missing women, revenge, and, least expected, love. Can she save the day and Killian Jones? Is there even another choice? Rated M

Swan Song by @courtorderedcake chs1 2 3 artwork by @wingedlioness COMPLETE

Set ambiguously in the 1920′s-1940′s in a world supposedly without magic, Detective Jones of Boston PD is a broken man with little more than liquor to keep him going. When a strange string of murders and ominous rumors about a new King of crime bring him face to face with fairytales, Killian is anything but ready to meet, “The Swan” - a Jazz singer who will upend his life. When he is forced to rely on her to help solve his case, they find secrets long buried that change everything... Not only for themselves, but for both the magical and human worlds they reside in. Rated M

A Pinch of Magic, A Twist of Fate, and a Full Moon by @everlastingcaptainswan with artwork by @shady-swan-jones ch5

It has long been told that Emma would be the Savior to save the witches from Rumplestiltskin, the infamous witch hunter. In an unsuspected attack Rumplestiltskin catches Emma off guard and an unknown ally saves her from a certain death and suddenly she feels obligated to do the same for the stranger. Rated M

Cross My Heart by @blessed-but-distressed with artwork by @distant-rose ch3

All Sheriff Emma Swan wanted was a bit of the quiet life. Why else would she take a job in Storybrooke, Maine, where deer outnumber people? But when a local woman turns up murdered, Emma quickly realizes she may be out of her depth. Enter Killian Jones, 17th century buccaneer turned vampire, who might just have the kind of unique perspective on the crime she is looking for. It’s a shaky alliance, but when Emma’s past comes back to bite her, she might just discover how handy having a vampire around can be. Rated M

Something In the Water by @spartanguard with accompanying artwork 1 2 chs6 7

Emma is sent to investigate a supposed sea monster appearance in her hometown. Thankfully, her family there knows her secret: that at night, she transforms into a swan. And she knows that whoever the universe thinks her soulmate is, as dictated by the tattoo on her side, won't be there. Though maybe she was wrong to assume that. And when did a merman start hanging out in the ocean near Storybrooke? Rated M

Alii Dimidium Lunam by @artistic-writer with artwork 1 2 by @cocohook38 chs16 17 18 19

Mongrel Killian Jones, packless and alone, finds Emma by chance in a bar, but she neglects to mention she is running away from her pack responsibilities...responsibilities that her strict father and alpha, David Nolan, expects of his only child and heir to the Misthaven pack. None of which include falling in love with a mongrel. Loosely based Lady and the Tramp AU. Rated E

Run to Me (In the Dead of Night) by @snowbellewells with artwork by @wingedlioness chs7 8 9 10

A canon divergent retelling of events, starting in early season two, written for the CS Supernatural Summer on Tumblr

Emma Swan really just wanted to keep her newfound son safe, get to know her parents at last, and be a good deputy to the rest of the town of Storybrooke. She certainly didn't count on chaos breaking loose with the return of magic and restored memories, learning that werewolves are real, or dealing with a handsome loner she can't seem to resist...no matter how much she wants to. AS it turns out though, she may need him - secrets and all - to survive and triumph over their combined enemies. Rated T

Glow by @mahstatins with artwork by @seastarved ch2

Emma Swan always gets her man, and she's not about to let a little thing like death get in the way.

(A 'Just Like Heaven' AU) Rated M

Fake the Mate by @lenfaz with artwork 1 2 3 by @distant-rose ch2

In a desperate attempt to have her pack out of her back regarding her unmated status, Emma Swan found the most unexpected ally in Killian Jones, beta from the rival pack. Fake Dating Werewolves AU. Rated M

My Fate is Darkness by @teamhook with accompanying artwork chs4 5

Is there light in darkness? Throughout the realms, there are all sorts of supernatural creatures roaming the lands. And there are those who are tasked with protecting the innocent. Fated to be enemies, can true love find its way through time? Rated T

Limbo by @courtorderedcake finally got added to the collection on ao3. 2 out of 3 chapters are posted. chs1 2

A CS afterlife AU. Rated E

Slayer by @kymbersmith-90 with artwork by @hollyethecurious ch12

Into every generation a slayer is born: one girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their number. She is the Slayer. Rated E

Lost Souls and Reveries by @seriouslyhooked with artwork by @shipsxahoy ch8

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to the future he was destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set both of them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest). Rated M

You’re In My Blood by @hookedonapirate with artwork 1 2 3 4 5 by @rouhn chs7 8

After a string of murders leads Sheriff Killian Jones to Enchanted, a vampire club located in the outskirts of Strorybrooke, for information, a blonde vampire princess and owner of the club is unwilling to comply without some favors of her own. Rated E

And we got new artwork by @slow-smiles for Curse of the Black Roger by @snidgetsafan! Can’t wait to see more of this fabulous fic!

Well, that’s it! We saw new chapters for some incredible fics last month! And a couple are pretty close to finishing! We still have lots to look forward to though as the holidays near! Make sure to give all our authors and artists some love as they are still working hard to bring us more supernatural goodness! Thanks for hanging around y’all! I’ll be back next month with the November roundup. See you then!

#monthly roundup #october #CSSNS

59 notes · View notes

shestillhasherquill · 5 years

Text

At the Heart of Darkness (8/11)

Thank you, you wonderful readers who have liked, rebloged and/or commented. I hope this chapter answers some of your questions! I struggled a bit with this chapter, but I hope it reads better than I think it does.

Thanks to @sambethe for the amazing banner and the artworks she has made for Chapters 2 and 5. And thanks to @downeystarkjr for a great teaser and a beautiful video. Both these artists are supremely talented and managed to capture the essence of the fic and of the moments.

Thanks to @accio-ambition for being my rock during a tough time, and being tough during my rocky, lethargic times. I couldn't have asked for a better beta for this fic, and for life.

Please go check out the collection of fic and artwork for @captainswanbigbang. Such a great bunch of writers and artists this year!

Summary: Killian Jones lives in the Land without Magic, with no memories of his family. Until Emma Swan comes into his life like a whirlwind, reminding about everything he had lost. He embarks on an adventure to destroy the Darkness, only to discover that Emma might not be telling him the whole story.

Rating: M

Content Warning: Mentions of Miscarriage, Angst, Gothel (Please heed the Gothel warning, ugh God, she sucks)

Current Chapter: ao3 ff.net

Chapter 7: The way things change

Present day: Enchanted Forest

Emma was the first one to react, rushing forward and throwing her arms around Alice, hugging her tight, her one hand cradling the back of Alice’s head. “Alice,” she whispered, unable to believe she was holding her daughter in her arms again.

“It’s me, Mama,” Alice whispered reassuringly. She allowed Emma to hold her a moment longer, knowing that the older woman needed it. Emma squeezed her once more before releasing her, her hand instead coming up to frame Alice’s face delicately.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” Emma blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes, unable to believe Alice was with them. Alice smiled tightly, knowing that her being here was a double-edged sword.

She turned gaze to her father, who stood rooted in his place, his expression unreadable. Alice drew away from Emma, her smile tentative as she approached her father. She hardly noticed Emma moved away, a large grin on her face.

“Papa?” Alice’s tone was soft, but it seemed to pull Killian out of his daze. He blinked, swallowing thickly. She waited for him to move first, the anticipation heavy in the air between them.

-/-

Alice, he mouthed, unable to make a sound past the lump in his throat. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think - all he could do was stare at the young woman in front of him, his Starfish now so grown up. It tore at his heart that he hardly recognised her now. All he knew was his little pirate; he had missed out on her entire childhood and there was nothing he could do to change that now. He forced his legs to move, push him toward her. He was hesitant to reach out to her - she had been his world at one point, and now he was afraid to speak, lest he said the wrong thing. But before could make another move, Alice ran forward, almost stumbling into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging herself to him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Papa,” he hears her whimper, muffled by his jacket.

He breathed deep, bringing his trembling arms around her, tears welling in his eyes. “Alice,” he breathed out, finally.

Alice fisted the back of his jacket, letting out a soft sob, which within seconds turned into a proper cry. Her shoulders shook with her sobs, the force of it making her hiccough violently. His parenting instincts seemed to kick in almost immediately on hearing her cry. Killian held her tighter, almost cradling her and rocking her slightly, whispering soothingly in her ear.

“Shh, Starfish. It’s alright, sweetheart. Let it out.” He pressed his cheek to the top her head, rubbing her back and allowing her to cry. He had left her for all these years, and it broke him to see her in such pain. He really had been a cowardly bastard.

He caught Emma looking at them as she stood away, her hands pressed to her lips and her eyes glassy. He held out his hand, beckoning her over; she did not wait for anything further, practically running over to him.

Nothing else mattered in that moment to him, not when he had his family together. Because despite the problems between Emma and him, despite his regret and shame, and despite all the years he had missed out on with his daughter - they were all together again.

And as it happened with most good moments in his life, this too did not last long.

-/-

Alice had finally managed to calm down, and Killian and Emma set up camp for the day. It was already nightfall and there was not much that they could do. Besides, they were finally reunited with Alice, and as much as it warmed Emma’s heart to see her daughter again and to see her and Killian interact, she knew that there was more to the story behind how Alice’s had come here. Emma knew that Gothel was not an easy foe to deal with.

Thankfully, Killian’s thoughts ran in the same direction. “How did you manage to evade Gothel, Starfish? Not that I am not happy about it.”

Alice finished swallowing her food, nodding at Killian. “Well, she had me trapped inside my head, in a Dreamscape. I first thought it was a curse, but it felt...different? I was stuck in my own mind, and turns out I was the only one who had the power to break out of it. I had to harness my magic, and free myself.”

“How did you figure that?” Emma asked, frowning at Alice. Something did not feel right about this, it sounded almost too easy.

Alice turned to Emma, appearing surprised by her question. “What do you mean?”

“How did you break out of it?” Emma asked, a hint of challenge in her tone. There was definitely something amiss about Alice, Emma could feel it in her gut. She had known the girl for years, and never once had she shown even the slightest interest in magic. She had the ability, for certain, but she had never cultivated it. After a few years of trying to teach her about the magical arts, Emma had given up, allowing Alice to choose her own path in life.

That girl was too much like her father; if she was ever in a bind, she was more likely to take the pirate’s way out of a knot than a witch’s. Alice had never resorted to her magic; she had always associated it with the pain and misery it had caused her family. Which is why none of what she said made sense to Emma.

Something in Alice’s expression shifted, almost as if a veil fell away from her face, and Emma could finally see the real Alice. Alice’s eyes were pleading, almost afraid, and it seemed like she wanted to say something for a moment. But she squeezed her eyes shut, and just like that, the moment was over, and the veil was back.

Emma felt her gut clench. It might be Alice’s body in front of her, but this was not her daughter.

-/-

20 years ago: Enchanted Forest

Emma and Killian had broken the news of her freedom together to Alice. She had been ecstatic, her tears of happiness about their engagement doubled over their reveal. She had literally jumped with joy, talking both Emma’s and Killian’s ears off with everything she wanted to do when she got out of her prison. They had indulged her, of course; but an hour past her bedtime was all Alice had been able to manage. All the excitement from the day had exhausted the poor child, and she had fallen asleep on Emma’s lap, her soft snores lulling the adults as well.

The next day, they embarked on their journey. Emma had remembered her parents telling her of a cave deep in the dwarves’ mines that had been converted to hold Rumplestiltskin. But in her reality, the Dark One had been released by Regina once she had begun her reign, but she had kept his Dagger to herself, knowing that was the only thing that could control him. Emma knew the kind of power the Dark One had, and a Dagger couldn’t control his manipulative nature. Emma had seen that first hand as he corrupted the Evil Queen with every passing day, encouraging her to ravage the land until there had been nothing left. Emma did not want that to happen to her family, but Killian had not changed his mind about approaching the Dark One.

Killian planned to sneak into Snow White’s castle to steal the Dagger from where it was kept, under the cover of the night. Emma had known the precise location of it, of course. But she had refused to go along with Killian - just the thought of it brought back too many memories of her few happy childhood moments before Regina had seized control. Of the years she had spent, a prisoner within the walls of that castle. She knew every nook and cranny of the castle and had never come across the Dagger. For years, her parents had kept it a secret, but when it had become evident that they would not survive their fight against Regina, they had told Emma alone of its whereabouts.

It had been a heavy burden for a child to carry, especially after she had been forced to witness her parents’ deaths. Her loss made her impulsive, and she found the Dagger, intent on using it to defeat Regina and bring her parents back. There had to be a way to bring them back, and she had to do everything she could. Unfortunately, Regina had found her before she could go through with it. That was the first time the Evil Queen had displayed her wrath on her reluctant ward. Emma had seen the way dark magic could corrupt people, and had vowed from that day forward never to allow her darker impulses to take over.

However, it did not stop her from catching a glimpse of the life she could have had using Killian’s telescope. They had to wait until nightfall, and it gave her plenty of time to take a gander of the grounds. Or so she told herself. But the moment her gaze landed on Prince David, her heart seized in her chest, her quick intake of breath alerting Killian.

She could hear him talking, but she could not bring herself to listen to him. Emma could not look away from the scene that had caught her eye. Her father - or the version of her father in this reality - was playing with a young blonde girl, who could be none other than the Emma from this reality. Emma recognised the girl as the one she had seen in mirrors when she was younger, even from such a great distance. He was leading the child around on a pony, and while she could not see the little girl’s face, she could see her father’s expression. He looked much younger in this reality, clean shaven and hair short, his laugh lines more pronounced. Nothing like what her father had looked like - what he never had a chance to look like. This Prince seemed to have a happy life with his daughter, no threat of the Evil Queen and no Darkness to haunt them. They had their happy ending. Emma’s felt the longing for that life viscerally - her heart racing painfully fast, her gut clenching tight and her eyes burning with tears.

She was drawn away from the view and her spiralling thoughts by Killian’s hand on her shoulder, his touch forcing her to face him. Emma almost screamed at him for ruining her only chance of seeing her parents again, but one look at the concern marring his handsome features was enough to give her pause.

“What is it?” he asked, gently cradling her face, wiping away her stray tears with his thumb. “Sweetheart?”

A sob wretched itself from her throat. Emma buried her face in his shoulder, trying to take deep breaths before she completely fell apart. She could have had this life - she could have been the one who got led around the training yard on a pony, she could have been the one to wear the pretty dresses. She could have been the one whose parents hadn’t been executed.

Killian for his part remained quiet, allowing her all the time she needed to pull herself together. Over the years, the pain of losing her parents had reduced to a dull throb in the center of her chest, but she could never prepare herself for the bad days. It could have been just the slightest thing that triggered a distant memory of her parents, but it had been enough to send her reeling. In the past year, she had managed to hide her pain. It had not been very difficult when she had a little angel like Alice to distract her. But she never expected to see any version of her parents in this reality; she had made sure she never came anywhere near the part of the realm they resided in. Until now, she had succeeded in that. She had an inkling that she might be reminded of her past, but she never thought she would be hit by a tidal wave of emotions.

“Talk to me, darling. Please?” Killian murmured at her ear, rubbing her back in slow motions.

Emma let out a deep, cleansing breath and pushed away from his shoulder. She smiled gratefully at him, reaching for his hand and squeezing tightly. “I was just overwhelmed, seeing my- seeing Prince David.”

Understanding dawned on Killian, his concern melting to something much tender. “I can’t imagine how that might feel, darling. I’m so sorry.”

Emma shook her head, her brows pulling together as she struggled to voice her thoughts. “I-I’m tired of living in the past, Killian. I’m ready for our future, for our children. I’m ready for my happy beginning.” Her voice was firm, strong with conviction.

Killian smiled at her raising her hand and kissing her knuckles, right above where his ring rested. “Aye, I know what you mean.”

“Go get that dagger. We have a man to see about a spell.”

-/-

Present Day: Enchanted Forest

Emma laid wide awake on her sleeping pallet, her back turned to Killian and Alice, pretending to sleep. They conversed in whispers, and while Emma couldn’t hear them, she knew they were probably catching up on lost time. She could not shake the feeling that something was wrong with Alice; unfortunately, she had not been able to get a moment alone with the girl. With father and daughter finally reunited, they were loathe to leave each other’s company. Well, Killian more than Alice, but Emma couldn’t blame him. The last time he had seen her, Alice had just turned six years old.

Emma’s worry kept her awake for a long while, but the exhaustion of the day coupled with the warmth from their bonfire and the soft cadence of Killian and Alice’s conversation lulled her to sleep.

It wasn’t until much later in the morning, when they had packed their things that Emma had a moment alone with Alice, with Killian off to a nearby spring to fill their canteen. She pulled the girl aside, both of them taking seat on a log.

“Is everything alright with you, darling?”

“Of course, Mama. Why do you ask?”

Emma reached for Alice’s hands, clasping them in hers. “I just have this odd feeling. Like something might be bothering you. You would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

Alice’s expression hardened for a moment, and she squeezed Emma’s hand hard enough to alarm her. “Do you remember what happened with the White Rabbit, Mama?” Alice asked, head tilted meaningfully.

And Emma finally understood what was happening with her daughter. “His time ran out, did it not?” she replied, smirking slightly.

‘The White Rabbit’ had been their signal to each other for years. They had spent a lazy, rainy day creating code words, after Alice had read a book on them. It had started out as a fun activity but served them greatly over the years. Alice had never had to use this particular one before, however.

‘The White Rabbit’ meant there was a heart missing.

Emma squeezed Alice back, with no other way to tell her she would do anything to get the girl’s heart back. “I know you can hear me, Gothel. You were after me before - so take me, and give me my daughter’s heart back,” Emma growled.

Alice’s eyes widened, her true self momentarily emerging. “Mama, no. You don’t know what she’s got planned for you.”

Emma bit her lip softly, brushing Alice’s wayward curls from her face. She had always told the girl to pin her hair up, and brush out the tangles, and she never listened. “It doesn’t matter. You do.”

“Well, well. Isn’t that touching?” Gothel materialised from the woods, a sinister grin fixed on her face. “The bitch wants to save her pup, is that it?”

Emma stood up, positioning herself in front of Alice protectively. “Stay the hell away from my daughter.”

“That’s rich!” Gothel cackled. “She’s not yours by blood, nor is she by marriage.”

“She is more of a mother than you ever were, you witch,” came a growling voice from behind Emma and Alice. Killian had returned from his trip to the spring.

“Captain,” Gothel greeted, her lips pursed as she turned her perverse gaze on Killian. “You still look very...spry.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, stalking toward her, his magic sparking within him, ready to be unleashed.

Emma noticed the signs of it immediately, rushing to stand between them, her hands held in front of Killian to stop him, hoping that he would listen to reason.

“Get out of my way, Swan.” He glared at Gothel, his jaw clenched tight, almost shaking with his fury.

“No. She’s not here for a fight. Don’t give her one.”

Killian finally looked away from the witch, staring down at Emma. “What are you talking about?”

“I called her here.”

-/-

20 years ago: Enchanted Forest

It had been surprisingly easy for Killian to retrieve the Dark One’s dagger, thanks to Emma’s instructions. He thanked the Gods that nothing changed between the different realities when it came to such things; it baffled him sometimes, how he and Emma managed to meet despite time and space separating them. It was instances like this that made him believe in such a thing as True Love.

With the Dagger retrieved, Killian and Emma set off the following morning to the cave Rumpelstiltskin was trapped in. He followed Emma as she expertly navigated the terrain, leading them to the dwarves’ mine. It took them a while to distinguish which mine opening led to the cave.

“Are you certain this is where the Crocodile has been imprisoned?” Killian asked Emma in a whisper, crouching and walking inside a damp cave. “Maybe it was a different cave.”

“I remember well. My mother used to describe the shimmering in the walls of the mine - fairy dust. I can feel the light magic pulsing through here. It must help keep the Dark One subdued.” She pressed her hands to the walls, feeling the fairy dust react to her magic. But dark magic seemed to corrupt the magic around them, the intensity increasing the further they moved into the tunnel. It must be the Dark One’s presence, Emma deduced.

“We are definitely in the right place,” Emma muttered, pushing through, despite feeling physically sick by the darkness that lingered in the cavern. Just as they were about to turn a corner, Emma stopped Killian with a hand in his chest.

“What is it?”

“Promise me you will not use the Dagger unless you absolutely have to. It’s power that will corrupt you before you know it,” Emma warned.

Killian nodded, knowing that she was right. It made him have a bad taste in the back of his mouth, just thinking about it. They rounded the corner, simultaneously stopping dead in their tracks at the sight that greeted them - an empty cell, with no one in sight.

“Bloody hell,” Killian cursed, resisting the urge to punch something. Just when he thought matters couldn’t get worse, the Dagger in his hand vanished in a cloud of smoke, startling both Emma and Killian. “What the hell just happened?” Killian exclaimed, aggravated by the sudden turn of events.

Emma couldn’t believe her eyes. It was not easy to summon the Dark One’s Dagger like that, not without powerful magic. She looked around the cell, her eyes falling on a very interesting find. “I think I know,” she murmured, reaching for the vines that grew around the cell walls, and hissing the moment her fingertips came in contact with them, her skin burnt at touch.

Killian’s head snapped to her direction, swiftly drawing his cutlass from its sheath. “What happened?”

Emma ignored him, hovering her hand above the vines, feeling the darkness settle and seep into the roots of the mine like some caustic substance, slowly eroding the light magic from the vines. Emma could feel it spread, making her skin crawl. “Ugh, the cave reeks.”

“I don’t smell anything, love,” Killian commented, his nose angled upwards and sniffing.

Emma chuckled, shaking her head. “I simply meant there is strong dark magic presence in this space.”

“Must be the Crocodile.”

Emma hummed, but she had an uneasy feeling in her gut that she couldn’t name. Killian noticed her dazed expression, brows furrowing. “What are you thinking, love?”

“I’m not sure, but the magic here...it is almost familiar.”

“Familiar, how? As in you’ve encountered it before?”

Emma’s eyes lit up, her fingers snapping. She knew what it was! “The marker is the exact same one that surrounds Alice’s tower!” she exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“Everyone’s magic leaves a trace, or a marker, that is unique, whether it is light or dark magic. I’ve been feeling two very similar but separate traces here.” She spoke in a rush, happy about having a lead. They did not even have to use the Dagger. “There were two people here: Rumplestiltskin and Gothel.”

-/-

Present Day: Enchanted Forest.

“You did what?!” Killian burst out, eyes almost bulging out of his head. Emma took a cautious step back, afraid that the Darkness would come out to play. But he seemed to have the reins over it - for now. “Why the fuck would you do that?” he yelled.

“Why, to make a trade, of course,” Gothel chimed in, as if she did not want to be left out. Not only did it anger Killian further, it irritated Emma as well.

“What is she talking about, Swan?”

“She has Alice’s heart, but-” she began, and she cut him off before he could react to that. She saw the terrified look on his face, and knew that he was thinking back to Milah’s demise. “-but I made a deal. I go in Alice’s stead.”

Whatever Killian was about to say, none of it mattered. His jaw snapped shut, his eyes wide in horror. “Emma, bloody hell. Why would you do that?” he exhaled.

Emma knew it was rhetorical. He knew why, because he would have done the same thing. She watched Alice move closer to Killian, his arms going around his daughter the moment he felt her presence next to him.

Emma swallowed thickly, turning to Gothel, who did not try at all to hide her glee. “Life for a life, right? Give me Alice’s heart,” Emma demanded, holding out her hand.

Gothel obliged, the grin never leaving her face. “You know, contrary to what you lot may think, I do have a heart. I’ll let you have a moment to say goodbye.”

“What are you going to do to her?” Alice spoke up finally.

“Oh, that is none of your concern little one. Your Mama has some information I need, that’s all,” Gothel replied arily, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Emma had Alice’s heart nestled safely in her hand, and approached the girl, forcing a grin on her face. “What do I always say?” she asked.

“‘Make sure your heart is in the right place,’” Alice chuckled tearily. She braced herself when Emma thrust her heart into her chest. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, adjusting to the feeling again.

“Yeah,” Emma chuckled as well.

“Mama, don’t do this,” Alice whined, holding on to Emma’s hands. “Please.”

“Hush, darling. It’s alright. Just keep your eye on the mission, alright,” Emma whispered, holding Alice tightly. She bent, as if to kiss Alice’s cheek, but instead said in a rushed whisper, “Get the Dagger from our friend, and go to Merlin.”

Alice gulped, nodding. Emma pulled away from her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’ll see you again.”

“I’ll see you again,” Alice echoed. Emma knew that despite the weight of the responsibility, Alice would make sure to keep on the right path and get rid of the Darkness.

Emma moved to Killian next, but he refused to look at her, turning away from her petulantly. She sighed, but she knew she had to say what needed to be said, in case...In case she did not survive Gothel.

“I know you’re upset, Killian. But you know that there was no choice.” She felt herself getting upset over his pettiness. “This might be the last time you see me, Killian,” she hissed, stepping up to him.

“Do not say that,” he snapped back, finally responding. “I’m going to come for you, you understand me, you bloody stubborn woman?”

“Aye, aye, C’ptn.” Emma smirked slightly. She grabbed him by the lapel of his jacket, pulling him just a bit closer. She stood on her toes, reaching up and brushing her lips softly against him in a barely-there kiss; but before she could pull away, he grabbed her by the waist, dragging her to him and closing the distance between them. He pressed his lips tight against hers, kissing her deeply, his hook resting on her back, as if trying to soak in as much of her as he could.

Emma was the one to pull away, still pressed closely to him and breathing quite heavily. “Was that a goodbye kiss?” she panted, her eyes remaining closed, revelling in the moment

“Nope. It’s just a reminder of what is waiting for you at home.” He looked awfully smug when she opened her eyes. “Come back to us, love.”

She stared at him and trying to memorise his features - every freckle, every shade of his bottomless, soulful eyes. She brushed her hand over his scruff, smiling at the roughness under her palm. “I love you, with all my heart.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She held on to him for just a moment longer, before she let him go completely.

Alice rushed into her arms, hugging her once more. “Mama, this feels like goodbye,” the young woman cried, resting her chin on Emma’s shoulder. Emma swallowed thickly, tears welling in her eyes.

“Shhh, darling. It will be alright.”

“How do you-”

“I know. I love you.” Emma squeezed her daughter tight, and prayed that this was not the last time.

“I love you, too, Mama.”

Emma smiled through her tears, drawing away from Alice and walking away from the Joneses, forcing herself to walk without looking back. A minute or so later, she was enveloped by gray smoke, transporting her right to Gothel.

-/-

20 years ago: Enchanted Forest

Emma was easily able to follow the traces of dark magic, Killian at her heels. She felt excitable, accomplished. Her magic was finally of some use. They did not have to go far; it became pretty clear where Rumplestiltskin and Gothel were, when they neared a large clearing where a ritual was being conducted.

Seven cloaked figures surrounded the Dark One in a circle, chanting unintelligibly. Emma knew most of the foreign languages used in spells and rituals, but this tongue seemed to be archaic. Emma and Killian skidded to a halt, staring wordlessly at the event unfolding in front of them.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Killian exclaimed, having to shout over the noise caused by the chanting.

Emma was lost herself, but their questions were answered soon enough when Rumplestiltskin fell to his knees and the Darkness shot out of him and into the sky. Emma gasp, horror struck - Gothel was trying to harness the Darkness, Emma was certain of it. She frantically searched, hoping to spot the person holding the Dagger. Whomever held it would have access to the Darkness. It took her a moment, but she finally spotted it, held aloft in the hands of a one of the cloaked figures.

“There! Get the dagger!” Emma shouted at Killian, both of them charging at the person. However, when Emma reached the border of the clearing, she was forced back by powerful magic, but Killian had managed to get through. Anti-magic boundary, she guessed.

“I can’t cross over, Killian. You have to take the dagger away from them.”

-/-

Killian kept shifting his gaze between Emma and the Dagger. If he took it, he would not have the power to stop the Darkness. He would be consumed by it, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Emma, I can’t do it without your magic. I will succumb to the Darkness,” he shouted back.

“We don’t have another choice! You have to do this!”

Killian hesitated but when Emma shouted again, urging him to grab the Dagger, he forced his legs forward. He ran as fast as he could, tackling the figure at full speed, grabbing the Dagger from their hand. The force of the tackle pushed the hood away from the person’s head, revealing Gothel’s enraged face.

He stood up immediately, hoping to get the Dagger to Emma in time. But he hardly took a step forward before he was enveloped by the Darkness completely, swirling around him like a hurricane. He tried to resist it, but the Darkness was too strong. He let out a blood curdling scream, as the Darkness consumed him, invading every part of his body, mind, and soul.

-/-

Emma had been pushed back by the forced of the Darkness as it wrapped around Killian, and by the time she had gotten to her feet, she had been too late. All she could hear was the echoes of Killian’s scream, and then everything was suddenly still. Killian was nowhere to be seen, and every one except Emma had been knocked out cold. Emma walked slowly, her breath in her throat, and was glad that the barrier was now down. She ran to where Killian had been standing, falling to her knees when she saw what was left.

She picked up the dagger with a trembling hand, her heart stopping when she read the name carved into it: Killian Jones.

#cs ff #knightrook #csbb #cs angst #tw: gothel

21 notes · View notes

howtohero · 5 years

Text

Fairy Tale Themes

Having a distinct superhero identity is very important if you’re going to be a superhero. You can’t just be stopping crimes as a civilian, stopping crimes is often a crime, for some reason. So you need to wear a whole getup and come up with a whole unique shtick. But that can be pretty hard. You can’t just throw a bunch of darts at a word board, that’s how you get heroes like Cat Vomit Confetti Man, or Pencil Rhombus Mount Rushmore Woman. (No offense to those guys, I know you guys were instrumental in repelling that Planet Doom invasion a couple of years back!) So sometimes, instead of coming up with an entirely new thing, heroes just steal an old one.

If you’re going to pattern yourself after a figure from a popular tale or piece of folklore you need to make sure you pick a good one. For example, you don’t want to run around fighting crime calling yourself The Ugly Duckling. (No disrespect sir, I know you singlehandedly held the planet together during The Great Fissuring.) But at the same time guys calling themselves Hercules are a dime a dozen. (None of you come to my house and punch me! I know how important the Hercules human pyramid was in saving Earth during the Galactic Olympics.) You need to hit that sweet spot of not completely ridiculous and not too overplayed.

You’d also be smart to grab a fairy tale character whose got a similar set of abilities as you do so your powers are thematically appropriate. If you’re an ice guy you can be The Abominable Snowman or Jack Frost (not to be confused with Jacked Frost the ice man who is almost too buff) but you wouldn’t want to be calling yourself Elsa from Frozen Man or Frosty the Snow-Man (yes Mr. the Snow-Man I know about the time you cooled the fires of Hell and freed several hundred wrongly damned souls during Greg the Skeleton King’s war on the living. If you’ve got the power to turn things into gold you might call yourself Midas but you wouldn’t want to go fight crime under the name Rumplestiltskin (for one thing, his whole bit is that people can’t guess his name, and if people can’t guess your name you’ll never be able to sign any lucrative sponsorship deals!) If you’ve got a winning smile you can call yourself Cheshire Cat but you should, under no circumstances, model yourself after dental hygiene folk hero Finnigan Floss. (He’s a sixty foot giant who has teeth the size of cars and spends all his days flossing, the story was meant to teach children not to focus only on one thing and let life pass them by but the dental industry coopted it and turned Finnigan Floss into a propaganda tool!)

But becoming a fairy tale character isn’t just a simple trick to get out of putting any effort into your superhero identity. You need to be ready to grapple with the consequences of such an action. For one thing, if there’s any villain out there who is already aping the image of a character from the same fairy tale, they’re going to automatically become one of your villains. So if there’s an entire crew of Wizard of Oz themed villains, maybe don’t call yourself Glinda the Good With of the North Man. (Tinman-Woman, I swear this is not a callout on you, I have nothing but the utmost respect for you after you singlehandedly, and I mean that literally she had one hand tied behind her back, thwarted a robot uprising.) At the same time though, if they’re famous for being hilariously ineffectual villains, then it might not be a bad idea to guarantee that they move to your town and attempt to commit crimes there for you to easily stop.

Your decision to become a fairy tale character might also inspire fairy tale enthusiasts to take up arms against you. These nerds will point out all the inaccuracies in your take on the character. Every. Single. One. “Ahem, Marry Poppins never drove a Poppins Mobile, she had a magical umbrella this is highly inaccurate.” “Erm, I hate to be that guy (you know that they love to be that guy) but Little Red Riding Hood was not a thirty five year old man with perpetual stubble.” “Goldilocks historically (???) had 150,000 golden locks. I’ve noticed when I observed you while you were sleeping (????) that you have only 135,000 locks of hair, and don’t even get me started on your roots.” So you’re going to need to preemptively block every fairy tale and folklore nerd in the word on all your public social media accounts, and probably some of your private ones too. Don’t underestimate the power of an angry nerd. Some of them might even be so angry, that they’ll try to become a fairy tale themed villain, just to show you the error of your ways. So... if you want to have a little fun with that be our guest. Make some nerd rob a bank while showing you what the real Little Bo Peep would look like! Convince some fairy tale buff that the best use of their time is mugging people while espousing the importance of pronouncing “bippity boppity boo” correctly.

Side note: Don’t become a Goldilocks themed superhero. Goldilocks is the clear villain of that story. Anybody who breaks into someone’s house and eats their food and sleeps in their bed is a criminal. That’s not just right. That’s just wrong. You should avoid taking on the appearance of any classic villains. That’s going to confuse trigger happy police officers who are responding to the scene of the crime. I guarantee you they’re going to shoot the guy dressed like Dracula (or plunge a wooden stake into your chest, which is just like, splinter-city) or an evil step-mother before they ask even a cursory “Which of you costumed ninnies is the superhero here?”

Superhero identities are as unique and varied as the people who choose to don them. And some people are just not all that unique, and for them we have some not so unique superhero identities. The stories we’ve been told as kids are rife with potential do-gooder (and do-badder) identities. So head to your local library, pick up a giant book of fairy tales from the kids section, and then sit there and read it and make all the parents there with their kids wary.

6 notes · View notes

smartgirlsaremean · 7 years

Text

My Heart’s in the Highlands - Chapter 19

Fandom: OUAT

Pairing: Bellish, Swanfire, Snowing

Rating: T

Summary: With Rumplestiltskin gone, Belle can't face going back to the Enchanted Forest without him. She leaves Storybrooke forever, travels the world, and ends up in a small village in Scotland, where she meets a constable with a very familiar face.

AO3

Chapter 19: Th’envious Treachery of Man

The investigation into Neal's disappearance takes a turn, and Belle may have discovered the curse caster's purpose - but nothing is as it seems, and it appears there's more than one agenda at work.

Hamish would never complain about his land rover again. The little yellow Volkswagen was the single worst police vehicle he’d ever seen, and as it bounced over the roots and rocks in the road, he gritted his teeth and reminded himself that there were worse things to endure. Next to him was the proof of that; Emma was beside herself, her face white as a sheet and her knuckles bloodless where she gripped the steering wheel.

“I can’t believe I sent him out here alone,” she said. “We all knew how dangerous it was...the monkeys and the witch and...what if something happened to him?”

“We’ll find him, Miss Swan,” Hamish said, grimacing as they hit a particularly jarring pothole.

“Don’t call me that,” she said. “You sound too much like...just call me Emma.”

“You weren’t fond of...him...either, eh?”

Emma stopped the car abruptly and jumped out, Hamish following her. “I didn’t like him, but I didn’t dislike him. He was Neal’s dad and Henry’s other grandfather, and he was the reason my parents got together. It’s just weird, y’know? He was...him. And he and Belle were...them. And then she shows up with you and it’s just…” She shook her head. “God, where is he? How am I supposed to…”

She stopped, staring off into the trees, and then took off at a run, Hamish following after her. David knelt in a clearing, looking exhausted and bewildered, his clothes muddy and torn.

“Dad! Are you okay?” Emma reached his side and wrapped her hands around his arm, pulling him to his feet. “Where’s the witch?”

“It wasn’t her,” David said.

“Who was it?”

“Me...myself.”

“Yourself?” Emma looked stunned. “Okay, so...where...where is...are...you?”

“I defeated it. It was playing on my worst fears, things I’ve never told anyone, not even your mother. Only when I admitted my fears was I able to stab it with my sword.”

“What sword?” Hamish asked. He glanced around on the forest floor, but saw nothing but leaves.

“The hilt - when I stabbed the...whatever it was...with my sword, the hilt disappeared.” David raised troubled eyes to Emma’s. “Why would it disappear? Where would it go?”

Emma shrugged helplessly.

“Emma.”

The three of them turned at the sound of the new voice, and Emma let out a strangled cry.

“Neal!”

She dropped her father’s arm and ran to him, but a few feet from where he stood she appeared to run into a barrier; she was thrown back several yards, her arms pinwheeling as she struggled to remain on her feet. Hamish approached more slowly, wishing he had a firearm or something that would offer even the slightest protection. Something told him, however, that he had nothing to fear from the man.

Neal looked miserable and careworn, his clothes dirty and ragged and his face covered in several days’ worth of stubble. “I can’t stay long,” he said heavily. “She’ll call me back in a minute. But Emma...stop looking. Please. No harm will come to you and the others if you just back off.”

“She? Who’s she?” Emma approached him again, stepping carefully. “It’s Zelena, right? She’s the witch?”

Neal shook his head miserably. “She’s a victim just like me, Emma. Like all of us. She’s been trying to free me, but she’s powerless against…” He winced and staggered back, one hand at his head. “She’s calling me, Emma. I have to go back.”

“Neal, no!” Emma took another step forward. “If it wasn’t Zelena who did all this, who was it? Who captured you?”

“Think, Emma.” Neal looked as if he were fighting against invisible bonds, the words being dragged from him. “Who would lure us back here, only to prey on the innocent? Who would be so...so heartless? So evil?”

Emma’s face went white. “No. No, I don’t believe it.”

“Keep Henry safe, Emma,” Neal said, backing away from her. “Swear it.”

“Of course I will,” Emma said fiercely. “And I’ll find you. You know I will.”

Neal opened his mouth to respond, but black smoke billowed up around him, and he vanished.

“It can’t be Regina, it just can’t be,” Emma was saying as she paced up and down the pawnshop. “None of it makes sense.”

“Emma, I know this is difficult for you,” Mary Margaret said gently, “but you don’t know Regina the way we do. The woman I knew - she’s capable of anything.”

“But she was changing,” Emma said. “She wasn’t the evil queen anymore, she was...she was better.”

“And then she lost Henry,” Mary Margaret said. “You know how much she loved him. Losing someone you love - it can destroy the best of us.”

“But if she wanted to get back to him, why hasn’t she tried to contact him? Why hasn’t she come for him?”

“Maybe she has.”

Emma swiveled to look at Belle, who had emerged from the back room with David. “What?”

Belle held up the empty jar she’d found in the safe. “Based on what David described and on what I’ve found in some of Rumple’s books, it sounds like he was dosed with night root. It’s a magical plant that forces a person to face his worst fears.”

“He said he killed him. His fears. Whatever.”

“Yes, and then his sword hilt disappeared.” Belle fidgeted under Emma’s impatient gaze. “I don’t think it did disappear, though. I think it was taken by whoever gave him the night root.”

“But why? What would anyone want with a broken sword?”

“When we face our darkest fears, our true courage is revealed,” Belle said. “True courage, like true love, is a powerful emotion. David’s sword is now a symbol of that true courage.”

“So what would anyone want with my father’s courage?”

“I have some ideas,” Belle said. “I need to do a little more research before I can say for sure. Emma...did you and Neal have something that was important to you? A symbol of your love for each other that you would recognize instantly?”

“Dreamcatchers,” Emma said. “That was always our thing. We kept one hanging in the bug.”

Belle nodded. “Okay. I need to go to the library, I think, and do some more research.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be alone. No one should.”

Belle glanced at Hamish. “Hamish can stay with me and…”

“Yeah, the thing is…” Emma looked a little fidgety now. “Dad doesn’t want to leave Mom alone for too long,” David nodded, putting one arm around Mary Margaret’s shoulders, “and I...I could kind of use some backup. If you don’t mind,” she said to Hamish.

Hamish shrugged uneasily. “I came here to help Belle,” he said. “Isnae there someone else who…”

Emma’s shoulders sagged. “This isn’t your fight, I know,” she said, “but...you seem like a good cop and someone who’s handy to have around in a tight spot. If I can’t have my dad, I was kind of hoping…”

“If she’ll have me, I could aid the lady in her research,” Hook said.

Belle, Hamish, and Emma shared wary glances. “I don’t know, Hook,” Emma said finally. “Research doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“I’ll admit I’m not of a scholarly bent,” he said, “but I can fetch and carry, and I’m more than capable of protecting her, should the need arise.”

“You do remember that you tried to kill me?” Belle said icily. “Twice?”

“Something I’ve regretted deeply,” Hook said. “Allow me to make amends, Lady Belle.”

Belle crossed her arms and studied him, and Hamish refrained from voicing his objections. If there was one thing he’d learned about Belle, it was that she hated to have others dictate to her. If she decided to accept the pirate’s protection, he would have to abide by her decision.

“Fine,” she said at last. “But I will be watching you, Captain.”

“Most ladies do, love.”

Belle rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” Emma said. “If what Neal said was true, we need to look for - for Regina. We know she hasn’t been back to her house or office, so she must have somewhere else to hide. Hamish and I will head out to the north side of town, since that’s where most of the monkey sightings have been. We’ll see what we can find. Belle, let us know the second you think you know what’s going on.”

“Of course.”

“Henry’s going to stay with you guys,” Emma said to her parents. “Please...don’t tell him what Neal said until we’ve found Regina. If there’s even the slightest chance that it’s not true…”

“We won’t,” David said. “We’ll take good care of him for you, Emma.”

When her parents were gone, Emma turned to Hamish. “Here,” she said holding out the small handgun she’d carried on her belt.

Hamish took it. “I didnae think I was allowed tae carry a firearm in the States.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m the sheriff, remember? And it’s not like the Feds are gonna come storming in.” She turned to Hook. “We’re on channel 3 on the walkies if you can’t reach our phones. Call us the second you know something.”

Hook bowed in acknowledgment, and Hamish and Emma made to leave.

“Wait!” Belle called, running after them. Hamish stopped and turned to her, his brow creased in worry. After hesitating a moment, Belle reached up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, and Hamish was almost too surprised to respond. “Be careful,” she whispered when she’d pulled away.

He nodded, barely registering the surprise on Emma’s face and the thinly disguised disgust on Hook’s. “You too, darlin’,” he said. Belle smiled and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, then stepped back, and he turned to follow Emma out of the shop, his mind a-whirl.

“You do have a type, don’t you?” Hook asked Belle when they’d barricaded themselves in the shop. He leaned against the counter and appeared to be studying her intently.

“I suppose it depends on what you mean by ‘type’,” Belle said tartly, flipping open the pad of paper she’d once briefly used to take notes while she did inventory.

“Well, you know,” Hook gestured vaguely. “First the crocodile, now this fellow.”

“My love life is really none of your business.” Belle opened an ancient tome on the glass counter and began scanning the contents. Hook swept one hand before him as if in apology and began to pace the length of the shop.

One spell stood out to her - it called for four powerful ingredients, and if her hunch was right...Belle reached for her pen to take down notes, but it was no longer where she’d put it. With a sigh she looked all around her, but the pen was nowhere to be seen.

“Anything wrong, milady?” Hook asked from the other end of the shop, where he was inspecting two grotesque wooden puppets.

“I need a pen,” she said, “and it appears I’ve misplaced mine.”

Hook approached her again and looked about her, then suddenly stooped to the floor. “Is this what you’re looking for, love?” he asked, holding up the black fountain pen Rumple had always preferred. Belle was sure it hadn’t been there a moment ago, but she supposed she’d been too flustered to notice it.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it from him.

True courage...true love...true intelligence...true innocence...they were ingredients nearly impossible to obtain all at once, but if it could be done...Belle’s pen flew over the page as she recorded her thoughts and suppositions and questions. Why would Regina need this spell? What could she hope to accomplish? How did she plan to avoid the myriad problems such a spell would inevitably cause?

She now had Charming’s courage, and Belle supposed Neal was being kept for a purpose other than the usefulness of his blood - though why he would be chosen as the supplier of true love when Emma would have been a clearer choice...Belle’s pen slowed and she considered that, wondering why Emma had been spared and Neal had been taken. Could Regina have some other purpose for Emma?

And from what source did she plan to harvest true innocence? Innocence in its purest form could only be found…

Belle caught her breath. Of course. Snow White’s baby. That was why the curse had been enacted when it had, instead of a year ago or even two or three months ago. It was perfectly timed to coincide with the new prince or princess’s birth.

Courage, love, and innocence were all accounted for then. Only intelligence remained, and as much as Belle loved Neal, and as canny and clever as he was, she didn’t think anyone would choose him for such a purpose. Who in the Enchanted Forest would have intelligence enough to be mined for such a powerful spell?

The space between Belle’s eyes began to pound as she pondered this question, considered the other townspeople. For whatever reason, Emma did not seem to be a target, and neither of the royals were known for their intellect. There was the psychologist - the cricket - what was his name? She could not remember for the life of her. And the woodcarver’s son - had anyone seen him? He was clever wasn’t he? What was his name again? She couldn't recall what it had been in either this world or the last.

Dimly Belle felt a dull pain in her fingers and she looked down to where she still gripped the fountain pen, which was glowing green in her hand. It moved rapidly across the paper, though she had long since stopped consciously writing, and she drew in a deep breath as panic set in. Her thoughts spilled across the page in deep emerald ink, and her head grew fuzzy and her vision blurred.

“Feeling alright, milady?” Hook asked.

Belle shook her head, her breathing labored.

“Ah. Yes, I suppose it must be draining, having one’s thoughts and knowledge siphoned from one’s head. Don’t you fret, love. These…” and he ripped the page from the pad and the pen from her hand, “are all we need of you. You have yourself a nice long rest, and when you wake, you’ll be in a new world. Who knows? You may even have your precious crocodile back.”

Belle fumbled for her phone in her pocket, but her vision was going dark, and her knees buckled.

“Nighty-night,” Hook said with a cruel smile.

Belle watched helplessly as he strode out the door, and then everything went black.

#bellish #hamish macbeth #belle french

7 notes · View notes

swanqueeneverafter · 6 years

Text

10. Skin Deep, Pt.3

Storybrooke. (At the sheriff’s department, Emma has Mr. Gold's stolen items strewn all over her desk.) Emma: “You're welcome. You're right. Your man Moe ripped you off. It was all still at his place.” Mr. Gold: “And the man himself?” Emma: (Sits at her desk:) “Closing in on him.” Mr. Gold: “So, job well half-done, then.” Emma: “In less than a day, I got it all back. Is something wrong?” Mr. Gold: “You've recovered nothing. There's something missing.” (Walks away.) Emma: “I'll get it when I find him.” Mr. Gold: “Not if I find him first.” The Enchanted Forest. Rumplestiltskin's castle. Past. Belle: “Why did you want me here?” Rumplestiltskin: “The place was filthy.” Belle: “I think you were lonely. I mean, any man would be lonely.” Rumplestiltskin: “I'm not a man.” Belle: “So, I've had a couple of months to look around, you know. And, uh, upstairs, there's, uh, clothing, small, as if for a-a child? Was it yours or... or was there a son?” Rumplestiltskin: “There was. There was a son. I lost him, as I did his mother.” Belle: “I'm... I'm sorry. So you... you were a man, once. An ordinary man. If I'm never going to know another person in my whole life, can't I at least know you?” Rumplestiltskin: “Perhaps... perhaps you just want to learn the monster's weaknesses! Nyah, Nyah! Nuh, nuh nuh!” Belle: (Smiles:) “You're not a monster. You think you're uglier than you are, that's why you cover all the mirrors up, isn't it? Hmm?” (There is a banging at the door, Rumplestiltskin opens it. Gaston is standing outside.)

Gaston: “I am Sir Gaston, and you, beast, have taken--” (Rumplestiltskin promptly clicks his fingers and turns him into a rose and closes the door.) Belle: (Walks over to him:) “Who was that?” Rumplestiltskin: “Just an old woman selling flowers. (He extends the rose to her:) Here. If you'll have it.” Belle: “Why, thank you.” (They bow to each other playfully. She crosses the room. As the conversation goes on, she takes a pair of scissors to trims the rose, put it in the vase, and sets it on the table.) Rumplestiltskin: “You had a life, Belle. Before... this—friends... family. What made you choose to come here with me?” (Takes a seat.) Belle: “Heroism. Sacrifice. You know, there aren't a lot of opportunities in this land for women to show what they can do. To see the world, to be heroes. So, when you arrived, that was my chance. I always wanted to be brave. I figured, do the brave thing, and bravery would follow.” Rumplestiltskin: “And is it everything you hoped?” Belle: “Well, uh... I did want to see the world. That part didn't really work out. But, I did save my village.” Rumplestiltskin: “And what about your... betrothed?” Belle: “It was an arranged marriage. Honestly, I never really cared much for Gaston. To me love is—love is layered. Love is a mystery to be uncovered. Yeah, I could never truly give my heart to someone as superficial as he. But, um, you were going to tell me about your son.” Rumplestiltskin: “I'll tell you what... I'll make you a deal. Go to town, and fetch me some straw. When you return, I'll share my tale.” Belle: “But... town? You trust me to come back?” Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, no. I expect I'll never see you again.”

Storybrooke. The Rabbit Hole. (For their girls' night out, Ashley, Mary Margaret and Ruby are seated at a bar table drinking. Ashley and Ruby down shots.) Mary Margaret: “Pace yourself, Ashley.” Ashley: “I am! This is my first night out since I've had the baby, I am making up for lost time.” (She downs another shot.) Ruby: (Looking at some guys across the bar:) “Ooh, Ash, check out those guys.” Ashley: “Oh, honey, I'm still with Sean.” Ruby: “You're not married, and he's not here.” Ashley: “He's working.” Ruby: “He's always working. Have fun moping!” (She takes her drink and walks over to the guys.) Ashley: “She's right. He is always working. I thought love would be different.” Mary Margaret: “Me, too.” (She sips her drink.) Storybrooke. The Dark Star Pharmacy. (David picks out two Valentine's Day cards and gets on line behind Mr. Gold. At the counter, Mr. Clark is helping the customer in front of Mr. Gold ring up some items. The older man notices him and starts a conversation.) Mr. Gold: “Two Valentine's. Sounds like a complicated life.” David: “Oh, no, I-I just couldn't decide.” Mr. Gold: “These are both for the same woman?” David: “Well; they're both so... us.” Mr. Gold:“ I see. Well, you fortunate you have someone that loves you.” David: “I really am.” Mr. Gold: “Love. It's like a delicate flame. And once it's gone, it's gone forever. Best of luck to you.” (Mr. Gold exits.) David: “Thanks. (Mr. Clark sneezes:) Bless you.” Mr. Clark: “Thanks.” Storybrooke. (On the streets, Mr. Gold is driving Moe's truck. In the back, Moe is gagged and tied up. They arrive at an abandoned cabin in the woods. Mr. Gold, with a pistol, opens the back of the truck and Moe slowly climbs out, tied up.) Mr. Gold: “Walk. (They entering the cabin. Moe turns and Mr. Gold cocks his gun, pointing it at him:) Now, you see, here's the thing—I don't normally let people get away.” (He closes the door.)

(The Enchanted Forest. On the road towards town to fetch straw, Belle walks there with an empty basket. A carriage approaches and stops next to her. The Evil Queen peers out to see Belle.) Evil Queen: “Did my carriage splash you?” Belle: “Oh. Oh, no, I'm- I'm fine.” Evil Queen: “You know, I'm tired of riding. Let me stretch my legs and walk with you for a spell. (The scene shifts to the Queen and Belle walking along the road as the carriage follows them from behind:) You carry very little.” Belle: “I don't want to be slowed down.” Evil Queen: “Mm. You're running from someone. (Laughs:) The question is, master or lover? (Belle silently looks at her:) Oh. Master and lover.” Belle: “I might take a rest. You—you go on ahead.” Evil Queen: (Wraps her arm around Belle and they continue walking:) “So, if I'm right, you love your employer, but you're leaving him.” Belle: “I might love him. I mean, I could, except... something evil has taken root in him.” Evil Queen: “Sounds like a curse to me, and all curses can be broken. A kiss born of true love would do it. (Belle stops. The Queen laughs and they continue walking:) Oh, child, no. I would never suggest a young woman to kiss a man who held her captive. What kind of message is that?” Belle: “Right.” Evil Queen: “Besides, if he loves you, he would've let you go. And if he doesn't love you, well then, the kiss won't even work.” Belle: “Well, he did let me go.” Evil Queen: “Yes, but no kiss happened.” Belle: “And a kiss—a kiss is enough? He'd be a man again?” Evil Queen: “An ordinary man. True love's kiss will break any curse.” The Enchanted Forest. (From a window inside his castle, Rumplestiltskin is frantically looking out the window for Belle. Once he spots her returning, he rushes down the stairs to feign busily spinning at the wheel. Belle arrives back with a full basket of straw.) Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, you're back already. Good. Good thing. I'm, uh... I'm nearly out of straw.” Belle: “Hmm. (She crosses to the wheel and puts down her basket:) Come on, you're happy that I'm back.” Rumplestiltskin: “I'm not unhappy.” Belle: (Laughs:) “And, you promised me a story.” Rumplestiltskin: “Did I?” Belle: “Mm-hmm. (She removes the thread from his hand and sits down beside him:) Tell me about your son.” Rumplestiltskin: (Hesitantly:) “Uh... I lost him. There's nothing more to tell, really.” Belle: “And since then, you've loved no one, and no one has loved you.” Rumplestiltskin: (Leans toward her:) “Why did you come back?” Belle: "I wasn't going to. But then... something changed my mind.” (They kiss briefly.)

Rumplestiltskin: “Oh. (His face begins changing as the greenness of his skin starts to melt away. He keeps his eyes closed, unsure:) What's happening?” Belle: “Kiss me again, it's working.” Rumplestiltskin: (In a human voice:) “What is?” Belle: “Any curse can be broken.” Rumplestiltskin: (Stands up abruptly in anger:) “Who told you that!? Who knows that!?” Belle: “I-I-I don't know. She, uh... she—she--” Rumplestiltskin: “She. (He crosses the room and uncovers a mirror, speaking into it:) You... evil... soul. This was you! You turned her against me! You think you can make me weak? You think you can defeat me!?” Belle: “Who are you talking to?” Rumplestiltskin: “The Queen! Your friend, the Queen! How did she get to you?” Belle: “The-the Queen? I don't--” Rumplestiltskin: “I knew this was a trick. I knew you could never care for me. Oh, yeah. You're working for her. Or is this all you? Is this you being the hero and killing the beast?” Belle: “It was working--” Rumplestiltskin: “Shut up!” Belle: “This means it's true love!” Rumplestiltskin: “Shut the hell up!” Belle: “Why won't you believe me?!” Rumplestiltskin: “Because no one-- (He furiously shakes her:) No one could ever, ever love me!” (The scene shifts to him throwing her into the cell. Belle lands on the hard ground, confused, as he slams the door shut.)

#swan queen #sq #swanqueen

8 notes · View notes

swanqueeneverafter · 7 years

Text

04. The Price of Gold, Pt.1

The Enchanted Forest. Past. (The wicked stepmother and the ugly stepsisters dressed in gowns get in their carriage that will take them to the ball, while Cinderella is left behind sweeping, dressed in rags.) Fairy Godmother: (She flies in:) “Do not despair, my dear, you will attend that ball.” Cinderella: “Who are you?” Fairy Godmother: (She grows into her larger form:) “I'm your Fairy Godmother, and I'm here to change your life Cinderella.” Cinderella: “But my Stepmother told me that I couldn't go, she forbade me to leave.” Fairy Godmother: “Your Stepmother doesn't have this. (She brandishes her wand:) This wand has the power to take you to your ball, to your prince, and to...” (She explodes, and Rumplestiltskin appears, claiming her wand.) Cinderella: (Shocked:) “What did you do?” Rumplestiltskin: “Now now, I got what I wanted. There's no need to be frightened.” Cinderella: “No need? You just killed my Fairy Godmother. She was trying to help me.” Rumplestiltskin: “Was she? Do you know what this is?” (He holds up the wand.) Cinderella: “Pure magic.” Rumplestiltskin: “Pure evil. Trust me. I've done you a favor. All magic comes with a price. Go on back to your life and thank your lucky stars you've still got something to go back to.” Cinderella: “My life... it's wretched.” Rumplestiltskin: “Then change it. You can't handle this.” (Holds up wand, and turns to leave.) Cinderella: (Chasing after him:) “Wait, please wait. (Standing in front of him:) I can handle it. Please, I will do anything to get out of here, anything.” Rumplestiltskin: “Anything?” Cinderella: “Do you know how to use the wand, Mr...” Rumplestiltskin: “Rumplestiltskin. And yes, of course I do.” Cinderella: “Then help me.” Rumplestiltskin: “Well, if I do, and you can indeed shoulder the uh... consequences, then you'll owe me a favor.” Cinderella: “Name it, what do you want?” Rumplestiltskin: “Something precious.” Cinderella: “But I have nothing.” Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, but you will. With this wish will come riches more than you know.” Cinderella: “I care nothing for riches. I'll give you anything you want. Just get me out of here.” Rumplestiltskin: “Now we're talking.” Cinderella: “Well, how does it work?” Rumplestiltskin: “Fear not. My needs are small, and all you have to do is sign on the dotted line. (He magically summons a document:) Do we have a deal?” Cinderella: “Yes, yes thank you.” (She signs the document.)

Rumplestiltskin: (Inspecting the parchment:) “Mmm... (He waves the wand and her rags turn into a ball gown, her hair is done up, and glass slippers appear:) There.” Cinderella: (About the slippers:) “Glass?” Rumplestiltskin: “Every story needs a memorable detail. Let's see how they fit, shall we? (She puts on the slippers:) Now you have a good time, but be sure to watch the clock.” Storybrooke. Present day. (The bell of the clock tower rings out above them as Henry Mills and Emma Swan walk the streets of Storybrooke.) Henry: “Are you sure we can be seen out in the open?” Emma: “Your mom and I worked it out, if she doesn’t want us sneaking around together then she’s gonna have to bend on a few things. Besides, Regina has a problem with me walking you to a school bus, I am more than happy to have that chat.” Henry: “You're brave. You'll need that for Operation Cobra. Speaking of, do you think we need code names?” Emma: “Isn't ‘Cobra’ our code name?” Henry: “That's the mission. I mean us. I need something to call you.” Emma: “Oh, um... well I don't... you can just call me ‘Emma’ for now.” Henry: “Okay, well I'll see you later, Emma.” (He boards the school bus.) Emma: (As she turns to walk down the street, Sheriff Graham pulls in front of her in a police car blaring the siren:) “What's with the siren?” Graham: “It's so hard to get your attention.” Emma: “Alright, well you got it. Are you arresting me again?” Graham: "I'm thanking you (Sighs:) for your help finding that coma patient. We all owe you a debt of gratitude.” Emma: “Well, what do I get? A commendation? Key to the city?” Graham: “How about a job? I could use a deputy.” Emma: “Thank you, but I have a job.” Graham: “As a bail bonds-person? There's not much of that going on here.” Emma: “I don't see a lot of sheriffing going on around here either.” Graham: “Well, here's your chance to see it up close. There's dental. Why don't you think about it and stay awhile.” Storybrooke. Present. Granny's Diner. (Ruby is bringing Emma, who sits reading the newspaper, a cup of hot cocoa.) Emma: (To Ruby:) “Thank you.” (Ruby sets the cocoa on the table and walks away, Regina Mills enters the diner.)

Regina: “How was your walk with Henry? That's right I know everything. But relax I don't mind.” (She sits opposite Emma.) Emma: “You don't?” Regina: “No, I would’ve walked him myself if not for this endless string of meetings I have lined up today. So, thank you.” Emma: (Warily:) “No problem.” Regina: “Perhaps you’d like to pick him up from school this afternoon before you leave?” Emma: (Confused:) “I’m not leaving. If you were wondering, I did find a place here in town.” Regina: “I know, with Ms. Blanchard. How long is your lease? Oh wait. You don't have one. That’s why you no longer worry me, Ms. Swan. You see I did a little digging into who you are, and what I found out was quite soothing. It all comes down to the number seven.” Emma: “Seven?” Regina: “It's the number of addresses you've had in the past decade. Your longest stint anywhere was two years. Really, what did you enjoy so much about Tallahassee?” Emma: “You don't know me.” Regina: “No, I think I do. In order for something to grow Ms. Swan, it needs roots, and you don't have any. People don't change they only fool themselves into believing they can.” Emma: (Smiles:) “I’m not the one fooling herself into believing something that’s false. (Emma scoops some cream from her cocoa using her index finger and, keeping eye contact with the mayor, licks it off. Regina watches intently then catches herself, averting her gaze:) You see my point?” Regina: “Ah yes, your ongoing theory that I’m attracted to you.” Emma: “It’s not a theory. I have a super power.” Regina: (Smirks:) “Is that so?”

Emma: “I can tell when people are lying to me. Like when I asked if you loved Henry and you said yes, I knew you were telling the truth. But now, as you sit there undressing me with your eyes, you’re only lying to yourself.” Regina: (Leaning in:) “Do you know what attracts me to people, Miss Swan?” Emma: “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.” Regina: “Loyalty. Trustworthiness. Dependability. That’s what pushes my buttons.” Emma: “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, believe me.” Regina: (Leans back:) “All I ask as you carry on your transient life, you think about Henry and what's best for him. Perhaps consider a clean break. It's going to happen anyway.” Emma: “People can change, Regina. Even you.” Regina: “We’ll just see, won’t we? I haven’t seen any evidence of it yet.” (Regina gets up to leave.) Emma: “You will.” Regina: (Leans down, almost a whisper:) “Well until I see yours, (Smiles:) I’m not going to show you mine. Enjoy your cocoa.” (Regina stands and leaves.) Emma: (Stands up to follow her and spills cocoa on herself:) “Ugh, really?” (Ruby rushes over with a towel.) Ruby: (Grimaces:) “Eesh.” Emma: “Do you have a laundry room I can use?” Ruby: (Nods:) “Mhm!”

#Swan Queen #sq #swanqueen

8 notes · View notes

eirian-houpe · 4 years

Text

Scattered - Chapter 5

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Maurice | Moe French, Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Alex (OC)

Additional Tags: AU, Curse gone wrong, Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Cruelty, Abuse, Triggers, Eventual Smut, Romance, Character Death, Gaston is evil, Graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Casting a spell, any spell - at least the ones that involve more than just the wave of a hand, or worse, the wave of an irritating fairy’s wand - takes time, and patience, and the right ingredients, and… just like any recipe, if you get it wrong, it doesn’t mean the cake won’t cook, rather then will, just with unexpected or unintended outcomes. All of Rumplestiltskin’s careful planning and manipulation, all of his hopes and dreams turn to dust; ashes in his bitter heart in the blink of an eye… in the fall of an equine heart. Belle exchanges one terrible prison for another, and it’s one she is desperate to escape, and though Rumple’s fate as The Savior was severed from him centuries ago, sometimes fate itself has a way of finding an alternate route home.

Read on AO3

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

Chapter 5 - Embrace the Storm

This chapter contains the aftermath of what Gaston did to Belle. It will likely be triggering for many people. If this is likely to be you, please skip to the section after the double asterisks

I was given the prompt: Footman!Gold saves Lady Belle from her runaway carriage. From then on, the House of French looks toward their servant with new eyes. Some aspects of that are now quite different, but follow the spirit, if not the letter of the prompt.

Belle wasn’t one to weep and yet she could not stop the tears.

Everything ached, and she felt wretched and filthy; sick to her stomach. Even the cracking of the fire couldn’t mask the sound of his lips smacking as he ate. He disgusted her. Slowly, she uncurled from the ball by the hearth at which he’d tossed her when he was done and saw him sitting at the head of the long table, sipping red wine from one of the unbroken crystal goblets, and sopping meat juices from his fingers; ignoring the debris that was strewn around the room. His feet were up - his ankles crossed on the corner of the table.

She looked away, down at her hands as she tried to straighten up, then looked away from her broken fingernails, and the cuts on her hands - the bruises at her wrists. For a moment she thought of simply plunging her hands into the fire, pulling out hot coals and carrying them across to grind into his face. It couldn’t possibly hurt more than she already did. She dismissed the thought, not because of any sense of self preservation, but because she knew she wouldn’t get close enough to do him harm. He had overpowered her once, he would do it again.

Belle wasn’t one to run and yet she knew she couldn’t stay.

Rumplestiltskin barely retained the presence of mind to grab his cloak before rushing out of the cottage. Overhead through the branches the sky was split by forks of lightning and the clouds were almost visibly gathering, huge and dark, and pregnant with the chill of an icy rain that he could already feel in his heart as though it already soaked his soul.

“NO!” he turned his face to the heavens. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you DARE!

He reached out, embracing the gathering storm, the power in the air and wove it in with his fear and his anger. To think of Belle afraid… in pain… He filling himself with all he needed to reach her, to find her - heal her pain and take away her fear.

Ignoring the additional pain that moving caused her, Belle grasped the side of the mantle and used it to draw herself up to her feet; to hold herself in place and to keep her balance until the room stopped spinning. She could do this. She could leave; had to.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Gaston roared at her, and she jumped, but refused to stop moving; refused to answer even if she could have spoken through her cracked and bleeding lips. “Fine then,” he said dismissively as she took another shuffling step, and then another. “Get to bed. I’m done with you… for now.”

Each step felt as though she was being run through by scalding needles. Even breathing hurt and she knew it was going to get worse, before it got better. If it could ever get better. It must. It did, at least by a barest thread, when she closed the heavy door to the hall behind her, shutting him out; no longer able to feel his eyes on her.

Her cries again reached him, sharper now, more acute and for a moment, overwhelmed, he lost control, and sight swept over him, confusing images and sounds and scents.

…There was a sound, like thunder only sharper, and the smell of ozone and fire. A weight in his arms, the tightness of tears, loss, a hollow in his chest. “Who’s Belle?” And lights, so bright… so, so bright…

“You won’t take her from me again!” he snarled, and threw up his hands, conjuring a wind that gathered the deep purple smoke of his magic that was all that was left of him in the space outside of the cottage, and scattered it over the landscape like some sick, lurid fog.

And then the rain began.

“Oh,” a cry from a voice she knew, one of the older housekeepers, almost broke her resolve. “Oh, Miss Belle!”

She shook her head, then shook of the soft touch that fell against her shoulder.

“Don’t…” she rasped, her throat as broken as the rest of her. “I… I can’t…”

“But Miss…”

She swallowed hard, and shook her head again. “Do as he says… that, and no more. Do not endanger yourselves. I will…” her voice hitched, “Find help.”

She knew it was a lie. Where would she go - save to his father, and what good would that do? He was at the root of this blight on her people, she was certain of it.

“But Miss… you…”

“I’m all right,” she lied again, and pulled herself up to the extent of her height, ignoring the added pain, to walk the rest of the length of hall with as much dignity as her broken form would allow. “Do as I say. Now go. Tell… the others.”

When he materialized he was in the field outside of Amberley that bordered the road. He cursed himself aloud as the cold wet drops fell in huge splashes against him, against his face. He had focused on Belle, on the feelings he was sharing, her pain, her fear. Why wasn’t he with her? When was the last time he had failed to reach the intended space when he aparated? Then he saw it - saw her. Like a beacon in the storm, emerging from beneath the gatehouse arch, her form limp and listless, lolling on the back of a horse in nothing but her dress - no cloak, nothing to keep her warm and dry.

“Belle?” he murmured, though he knew she could not hear him. A hundred different imagined insults crowded his mind and threatened to crush his heart. He felt suddenly lightheaded from lack of air, began shivering from the cold of the rain in a way he had not for tens of tens of tens of years.

He saw the boiling of clouds above the gate to Amberley as if they were made of smoke from a raging fire, swirling and gathering, turning the air to a sizzling mass of charge in the air.

“No,” he repeated his cry of earlier, to some unseen, imagined thing, already beginning to run toward the road. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you—!”

The crack of discharge was an explosion of sound and light, and power that threw the men and women who were milling in the sudden torrent of increased rain to the ground, as the lightning struck beside the road. It almost took his own feet from beneath him.

The horse that carried Belle screamed and reared. Rumple echoed, heart strangling him, tearing him in two, but somehow Belle held on, a shrill cry of her own joining the cacophony of panic in the instant before the horse bolted.

Rumplestiltskin cursed the finite reach of his grasp on the magic of this realm with its natural vibrations, even with his centuries of experience. He would have to do it the hard way. He ran for the nearest of the mounted guardsmen and leaped at him like some great, wildcat, knocking him from the saddle before somehow righting himself, grasping the reins and spurring the enormous warhorse into motion, wheeling its great head around and spurring him after Belle smaller, but terrified mare.

He leaned down closer to the horse’s neck and urged him on, faster and faster, scattering people on the road who must barely have found their feet again after the uncontrolled flight of Belle’s horse. Their anger drifted after him, for him to gather to himself, storing it, feeding the power growing in him, fizzing like the activator in some complex magical potion.

Nearer and nearer, stride by stride, the warhorse carried him, out-pacing the smaller mount. The beating of hooves matched the pounding of his heart, until at last he drew the horses side by side, matching flight with flight until he reached across and wrapped his wiry arms around Belle’s slender waist.

Already frantic, she him fought like an angry dragon as he hauled her across into his lap, letting the mare run on… run herself out. He slowed the warhorse, keeping a tight hold on Belle, until he could slip the both of them from the saddle and onto solid ground. He caught her fists as she beat at him, her wrists as she made claws of her already bloodied hands; wrapped her in his arms as he took her in, bit by bit. The state she was in slowly registering in him now that he had her, held her… whispered her name over and over again.

“Oh, my Belle,” he breathed against her hair when she finally ran out of fight, or else realized that he meant her no harm - and if he were honest, he wasn’t sure which. “My Belle, my sweet Belle… who did this to you!”

She flinched at the snarl in his voice, the growl as understanding of what had happened to her resolved in him. He could guess who had been the cause of it. He had to concentrate so hard to draw it in, his mounting rage. She needed him now. She needed to be healed and whole, and could not do that for her if he was so angered that every little part of him screamed for murder.

“It’s all right, Belle,” he murmured softly when he could at last trust his voice. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you now, and I won’t let anyone hurt you any more.”

He passed a tender hand over her brow, letting what reserve of peace and warmth he held within him flow from the near touch into her, until she calmed, and went all but limp in his arms. Only her hands remained tense; tight little fists in the woolen fabric of his cloak.

“Master… Rascende…” she barely whispered, as though her voice was ragged, in ruins.

“I’m here, Belle,” he said around the painful knot in his own throat. “You’re safe,” he promised her. “No one will hurt you any more.”

…Ever…

“Sleep.”

He held her close, and lifted her into his arms as his compulsion took her, and in the next moment, the mist of his magic, as dark and angry as the clouds above, whisked the two of them away.

#rumbelle #au #curse gone wrong #noncon warning #implied noncon #graphic violence #aftermath #eventual smut #romance #character death #gaston is evil

0 notes

eirian-houpe · 4 years

Text

Deception Pt. 1 or Darker Hearts

I’m making a start on including my OUAT fic here. I mentioned in a recent post that there was one of my current WIPs that just became waaaaay more complicated than I had at first intended. This is the one - or rather, this is part one of the series in which things will get complicated. I blame Mad!Belle (aka Darker!Belle) for all of this. There will be angst... smut (but not immediately), and the gods only know what else.

You can also find it on AO3 also, (Eilinelithil), where I usually post my work.

SUMMARY: With Snow and Charming closing in on her before she can complete the casting of the Dark Curse, The Evil Queen begins to tie up loose ends, including the issue of the girl she has locked in her tower, but even that doesn't go according to her desires, and to punish her former mentor, she places a geas on Belle. Meanwhile Rumple, stripped of his powers by the cell he inhabits shares a dream with Belle - a warning of sorts. Tiger Lily (*see end notes) - with Blue's "help" tries to fulfill her duties as fairy godmother. From the premise of, 'What if the Bone's Wish!Rumple finds are not all Belle's.' (And therefore is Alternate-Alternate Universe). This part is not rated, or could be matched to the rating on the show. Future parts most definitely will NOT be.

The explosion that lit the night sky reflected in the water below. Echoes of the vibrant sparks rippled on the surface of the river, their colors muted, just as the remembrance of magic rolled like mist over the landscape. Now was the time. The Fairy Guard was changing, and this would be her only chance for another hundred years.

“Hundred years and a day,” she corrected her thought, and began to scramble to her feet from among the river reeds, keeping low as she headed for the bridge; the portal into their realm. A shimmer of power, like a heat haze hovered over the center of the bridge giving her to think, ‘so much for running water as a barrier against magic.’

She clambered up the rise, and the fingernails of one hand scraped against the rough stone as she made footfall upon the Bonnie Road that stretched to one side of her over the ferny hillside, and the other onto the crossing itself. She took a breath, glancing once more about her for watchful eyes, rose from the lea of the stones and advanced onto the bridge.

At the first step, ahead of her, a swirl of deep, maroon smoke spiraled up from the ground, parting moments later to drift across the water, revealing a too familiar figure.

“Going somewhere, Dearie?”

~0~0~

“Rumplestiltskin!”

Belle’s eyes flew open at the voice that answered. Deep, sarcastically mocking, but undeniably female.

“Oh, my dear, still pining after that nasty little imp?”

She scrambled up, keeping her back pressed against the wall, and pulled the tattered rags that passed for the remnants of her clothing more tightly about her. She raised her chin and glared at the woman, taller than her, and made taller yet by the high collar and dark crown she wore to contain the style of her hair.

“Did you come to gloat?” she demanded. “You can’t keep me here!”

“Oh no?” The Queen answered, tipping her head to one side just slightly, just so that made Belle want to push away from the wall and wipe the smugness from her face. She thought better of it though, knew better than to get within arm’s reach of woman – had seen her tear the still-beating hearts from others for less. “And where would you rather I keep you?”

“I would rather you didn’t keep me at all,” she said.

The Queen laughed, for a moment only, and entirely without humor.

“I bet you would,” she said, advancing toward Belle and stopping barely a breath away from her, and taking her chin in her hand leaned down into her face to add, “I didn’t come here to gloat, no. It’s unqueenly. I have other, far different plans for you.”

~0~0~

“Expecting someone else, were you?”

She reached out and tried to grasp his leather-clad arm and pull him aside, but he pulled away at her touch as though her fingers might scald him.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she repeated his name and he rolled his eyes as she asked, “What are you doing, they’ll—”

“They can’t see you, you know?” He cut her off, and held up his hand, pointer finger extended and wagging from side to side in admonition, adding, “Nor can they hear a word we’re saying.” His voice became even more sing-song in tired explanation as he pointed out the blatantly obvious. “We’re not on their side of the bridge.”

“Well, you better not follow me then,” she warned, sidestepping with intent to pass him by.

He caught her arm, turning them both so that she now had her back to the portal into the Faery Realm and he faced it, the essence of their magic almost blinding, a hideous anathema to him; a place he would never, willingly, go.

“I won’t let you do this,” he told her.

“You can’t stop me,” she told him, and began to try and pull her arm from his grasp. “You let me g—no, you sent me away.”

“Small details…” he wrinkled his face a little, as if trying to play the incident down, as if it had been merely an insignificant hiccup in their time together.

“Rumplestiltskin, I have to do this,” Belle said, “Let go of me!”

She pulled hard, harder than he expected; harder than she expected evidently, as she pulled free and stumbled backwards, back toward the threshold of the portal.

~0~0~

“Belle…!”

Rumplestiltskin all but leaped to his feet, reaching out as though to catch her, his fingers clenching on empty air at the other side of the bars of his cell, cursing the properties of the prison that rendered him magically impotent… and susceptible to the human need for rest, and the affliction of dreams.

Wherever she was, she was in danger, he was certain of it… after all he had done to ensure that she would be safe… it wasn’t enough.

“It’s never enough,” he snarled at himself, retreating from the cold touch of the metal bars, back into his corner, ready to let the madness creep over him again; anaesthetize the pain, but then… a sensation crept over him in the moment he heard the light scrape of a foot… and he tilted his head to peer out of his darkness.

“Well now…” he crooned, accented, “…come to see ol’ Rumple, have ye?” He shuffled forward again, clawed fingers closing around the bars, “No need to be shy.”

“Hardly a characteristic of which I’m often accused.” The voice, when it came out of the dim light of the cave, was melodic, but dripped the nectar of sarcasm that set his hackles immediately on the rise. “And I wouldn’t be here at all if not for—”

“Then get out!” he snarled, recoiling from the bars at the sight of the Blue Fairy as she walked into the light and closer to his cage. “I don’t want you here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Blue said, calm in the face of his sudden storm of rage, “what you want, Rumplestiltskin. I made a promise, and one way or another, I intend to keep it.” Then with a sickly smile, added, “One day you may even thank me for it.”

“Never,” he snapped, then as if capitulating, moved closer to the bars again, and all but sang in a much more hopeful tone, “though, if you wanted to make amends… you might go ahead and let me out…?”

The smile she offered turned sad and wistful.

“Amends? Let you out? That’s not something I can do. I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand that was once again curled around the bars of his prison, and just for a moment he thought he saw contrition, genuine sorrow for all the heartache she had wrought upon him, but that thought rekindled the anger and his visceral hatred of her kind, and snatching his hand away from her touch, he recoiled.

“Then what use are you to me?” he demanded. “Promise be damned. Go find another way. Reul Ghorm…”

She began to protest, holding up both hands against the magic he had once cast upon her; magic unaffected by his current confinement.

“Rumplestiltskin, don’t!” Then knowing she could not counter his coming dismissal, but a slave to her own conscience added, “Remember the dream… the nature of dreams...”

“…leave me. Go back to whence you’re from!”

~0~0~

Everything was going awry, and not understanding how, and in the absence of anyone on whom to place the true blame, The Evil Queen fell back on the one person who had always been at the root of all her troubles, as well as a good many of her unrequited desires.

Oh, he’d pay. There was little point in keeping the girl – this insipid object of his affection, no matter how warped that affection might be – locked up in her tower, shielded so none would find her, when she needed all of her magic to defeat whatever attack Snow White might conceive. She and her annoying husband were making waves, and getting in her way, and for the first time in… well… ever, she actually worried that they might present a real threat. As for Belle, she might as well make it final now – once and for all – focus on the problems in hand, and that certainly wasn’t her former tutor’s little plaything. No, now she would see to it that all he had left of the only one in favor of whom he had abandoned her was ashes and an empty heart; make truth of the lie she’d told him, and oh, how glorious that moment had been, for all that he’d tried to mask his emotion. She had seen.

But she’d make it quick. She didn’t have time for anything else, with Snow all but breathing down her neck.

“What do you want with me?”

“Nothing at all,” she answered the girl’s question, one she’d grown bored with over the time she’d her locked in the tower. She came closer, right up to the girl, teased her pretty face.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Is that what you said to him?” she purred, allowing her jealousy brief reign, “All that time he had you locked up in his castle… night after night…?”

“What are you talking about?” The girl pushed at her, ineffectual – not strong enough after too many days lacking nourishment. Still Belle blushed. Not entirely innocent after all then. It fueled The Queen’s resentment, and she turned hard and cold.

“What do I want with you?” she growled against Belle’s face, then, swift as a snake striking in the grass, her hand shot out toward the girl’s breast, and there halted, suddenly, and as if she had struck a stone wall. Pain lanced through her arm.

“Damn you!” she snarled, cursing the absent member of their little triangle, swirling away to put distance between her and the girl. Her hand came up, filled with fire, until she caught a hold of herself and closed her fingers to extinguish the flames as the girl cowered against the wall.

“I didn’t do anything,” Belle protested.

The Queen waved her comment away. “He always was too clever for his own good,” she said, by way of explanation and laced with sarcasm, added, “Protected your heart.” The thoughts that came with the realization of what he’d done only added fuel to The Queen’s bitterness. “So be it, Rumplestiltskin. I’ll see to it that you’ll never find your precious maid.”

She turned her back on the girl, heading for the door and the guardsman there, whom she intended to instruct that no one enter the cell, and nor should any leave.

“Why don’t you let me go?” Belle said, her voice just shy of imploring, instead it held an almost rational tone. “You don’t need me. Rumplestiltskin sent me away. Can’t be that important to him if he’d do that… hmm?”

The Queen paused in the doorway, for a moment found that she actually considered the girl’s words, then she chuckled, and the chuckle became a vindictive laugh as a plan came to her – after all, there was more than one way to skin a cat. She closed the door, took the key from the guardsman, and then, peered in through the small square of open bars in the otherwise solid metal that made a window.

“You know,” she said, “for a moment you almost had me convinced… almost. But no, I think not. I can’t have you getting away and running right back to Rumplestiltskin.” She shook her head. “You’ll stay here. It’s fitting, after all. It’s what I told him your father did.”

“Wait, what…?”

Belle started toward the door then, at the mention of her father, and the more The Queen thought about it, the more she though she probably shouldn’t have said anything of that to the girl. She quickly slipped the key into the lock, and turning it, allowed the magic of a spell to flow through the key, into the doorway. If anyone should find a way to get the girl out of the room, be that one of Snow’s annoying dwarven henchmen; one of Belle’s own father’s men come in search and rescue of her, or even Rumplestiltskin himself, a step beyond the threshold would deliver more… and less… than freedom, both at the same time.

“It was nothing,” she told Belle almost sweetly. “Just a little white lie.”

She passed her hand over the lock one more time, setting the destination to the one place that Rumplestiltskin would never – could never – go. She almost hoped that it would be the imp that triggered her spell – little knowing that it would be her last.

~0~0~

The sounds of the celebrations followed him no matter which corner of the cell he moved to. It set his teeth on edge, but more, far more than that. It meant only one thing to him…

She had failed.

The thought stuck in his craw, hard rocks against which to grind the rage he felt. How could he have been so foolish, so blind as to entrust his greatest masterpiece – his Dark Curse – to anyone else but himself, let alone his former pupil, that slip of a girl who’d had to be pushed and pushed and pushed to embrace the darkness inside of herself.

He growled, at no one in particular, then pacing began a brief monologue of self-deprecation. “Foolish Rumple, blind Rumple… stupid Rumple, should have know better… if you want something doing properly, just… do it yerself!”

He moved into the light, grasped the bars as though he meant to crush them in his hands. With the curse uncast he was stuck; locked away for eternity. “Stuck in here, hobbled and castrated like some wild beast!” He voiced his lamentation, pushed away from the bars and retreated once more to the darkness at the rear of the cell.

~0~0~

In the lea of the towers of The Queen’s castle, shrouded by fairy magic, Blue watched. The ghosts of her wings fluttered in agitation, though unseen when she manifested – as now – in ‘human’ form. She watched as knights and soldiers hurried in through the breech in the gateway. Others rushed out leading servants and vassals as prisoners, or else liberated – she was yet uncertain – toward where Charming sat atop his white steed, directing the sacking of the castle.

“They’re going to find her.” The voice behind her startled her, and she half turned to shake her head, not in denial of her fellow fairy’s words already spoken, but at the ones to come. “You promised.”

“I went to him, Tiger Lily,” she said sadly. “He wouldn’t even hear me.”

“There must be another way,” Tiger Lily all but pleaded, “Something you can do.”

“It’s a geas,” Blue said sadly, “Even I can’t overturn something that strong – that… vindictive.” She shook her head again, watching as the shadows of Snow and Charming’s guards moved through the tower, ever upwards. “Only the one that cast it, or the one that holds her heart…”

She sighed softly, about to say more when Tiger Lily cut her off.

“Then we have to show her the way out,” She said, “Because Rumplestiltskin has no magic where he is, and since you won’t let him out to—” She stopped then, and fixed Blue with a bitter stare. “If you think there’s nothing you can do, why are you here?”

~0~0~

Rumplestiltskin raised a hand and flicked his wrist, his apparent stupor fading as Belle stumbled backwards towards the portal. A whirlwind of deepest purple began at her feet and climbed to surround her. She felt a momentary sense of warm dislocation, and then as the essence of his magic faded, she felt his fingers close around the tops of her arms.

“You don’t want to go in there,” he said, and she looked up into his golden eyes as he wrinkled his nose and added, “Trust me.”

“I have to.” She pushed at his chest, her hands flat against the leather of his coat. Something in the manner of his posture, the tension, everything about him screamed of wrongness. “The guard is changing. This is the only chance I’ll have for another hundre—well… ever.” Something, some echo of their past made her reach up, cup his scaly cheek against her palm and add softly, “I’m not… immortal like you.”

For a moment, barely, she thought she felt him lean into her touch, as with a slightly flustered air he crooned, “Yes, well…” drew out the words, as though he could give her some kind of solution to that – and suddenly she glimpsed another world, another time, another woman urging a different man to grant her immortality. As if he knew what she’d seen he pushed her to the extent of his arms, shaking the moment from her with a growled denial. “No! You can’t go there, you can never go there.” He let go with one hand to point over her shoulder with a blackened claw, warning, “That isn’t Faery, y’know!”

“Not—” she frowned, not understanding, “Then whe— what…?”

~0~0~

She startled awake as the door practically flew back on its hinges revealing two mailed knights, each bearing swords, held ready as if for an attack.

“Wha— Who… who are you?” she demanded, sliding to her feet, braced against the wall. Her limbs ached from sleeping in such a curled position.

“In the name of Queen Snow, you are released from your prison,” the first knight announced as he and his companion stepped to either side of the door.

“Return home quickly,” instructed the other, beckoning her on toward the stairway beyond the portal. “It may not yet be safe out there.”

“But,” Belle stammered, “But I… I have no home. I made a deal, a promise to Rumplestiltskin, and I—”

At the mention of his name, the knights each stepped into the doorway again, blocking her path.

“The Dark One,” one of them said.

Belle gave them a look, all but rolling her eyes as she said, “He really isn’t—” then squeaked in alarm as they grasped her by the arms. “Hey!”

The first of the knights pushed her more fully into the arms of the second and ordered, “Take her to the King. He’ll know what to do.”

“Hey,” Belle repeated her protest, “No, wait!” She started to struggle against the knight’s hold on her arms. Somehow, some warning, some sixth sense telling her, no… urging her to stay within the tower’s uppermost cell. Perhaps if she were to reason with them. “We made a deal… my father… my people. Rumplestiltskin, he said—!”

“Save it for King David!” the knight spat, and began to half drag, half carry her through the doorway.

It happened as the knight pulled her beneath the arch of the door. First there was cold; a cold like she’d never known before, then she felt as though someone had turned her inside out and back to front all at once, and the pain was blinding. Some giant hand, some force, twisted her ribs and crushed her spine before – a small mercy in a realm so far sorely lacking in that virtue – a smothering darkness settled over her. She didn’t even have the chance to cry out aloud for help.

~0~0~

The knight’s cry of alarm matched the one he was certain the girl had made in pain, except she couldn’t have. It had all happened so quickly, and now all that was left was a tangled, dripping mess of bones, where his fellow knight and the girl had once stood.

“You!” he snapped at one of the King’s soldiers that had followed them up into the tower, “Run down to the King. Tell him… warn him…”

The soldier nodded, backing away before he turned at the head of the stairs and ran, as if in fear of his life, screaming of The Dark One, a curse, murdered knights, and sacrificial maidens.

~0~0~

“Darker, Dearie,” he crooned, keeping hold but turning her so that he was behind her, guiding her gaze to the shimmer behind the portal. It appeared to him as a writhing, seething serpent with bared fangs and a mocking, whispering embrace. “Darker even than my heart.”

“I don’t,” she began, then started over. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you do,” he told her, “Look closer, past the rot that arrogant little gnat put into your head.”

“I’m sorry,” he scowled as she twisted free of his grasp only to turn and face him again, “Gnat?”

“Reul Ghorm.” At her continued frown of confusion, he waggled his head from side to side in a mocking dance, surpassed only by the derisive tone in his voice, “The Blue Fairy… holier than thou… meddler—”

He stopped abruptly as she shook her head and said, “It wasn’t Blue.”

“No?” he dipped his head to look at her; into her eyes, to be sure of the truth, since she had spoken of the fairy as though they were the best of friends. His frown darkened as he was assured of the veracity of her words.

“It was The Queen.”

The Queen?” he echoed, his turn for confusion, for the barest of moments at least. Why would Regina tell Belle to pay a visit to the Dark Realm? A place where even he—

Like the mallet he had taken to his own flesh so long ago now it seemed, everything fell into place, and releasing Belle, he staggered a step or two backwards.

“No,” he growled in denial, reaching for her again. “Not that… anything but that!”

“Rumplestiltskin!” she twisted, and he could see the alarm on her face, feel the pain, and not because of the tightness of his claw like nails against her skin.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “Look. At. ME!”

~0~0~

“I release you,” he said, urgently, jerking awake, “I free your heart.”

He sat for many moments, breathing hard, trying to find a balance, remember where he was and above all, hoping against all hope that in spite of the nature of his cell, that his words – and the feelings that made them – would be enough.

And then he laughed… out of control, a chuckle of madness for all that he had been through. It was just a dream, after all. Just a dream… wasn’t it?

He was still giggling when the scuff of a foot sounded in the darkness, followed by a voice.

“Come out where I can see you!”

“Oooh, It’s Captain ‘Ook. Ooh what a lovely treat,” he giggled, though behind the mirth, his scheming mind was putting together, more vital now than ever, a way that he might find himself beyond these bars. “Oh, come closer, clo-ser.”

As Hook came close enough, Rumplestiltskin lunged at the bars, clawed hand outstretched and reaching for the man’s neck, but Hook must have been ready for him and pulled back, out of reach. He growled softly in ironic acknowledgement and then laughed just as quietly, drawing back his hand.

“You know, it’s been so long since I talked to anyone except,” he gestured at the creatures sharing his cell, “rats and leeches,” before turning his gaze back toward Hook.

“Oh, I didn’t come for the conversation,” the other man said, his lingering hatred and mistrust clear on his face.

“Of course you didn’t, Dearie,” he declaimed, before softening his tone, “So, um…” he made an incoherent sound before finding a way to sound as casual as he could about his question. “…what bring Captain Hook home?” Grasping the bars, he teased softly, seeking to manipulate the man to the fullest of his ability, to gain the advantage, “Finally ready to seize his revenge? Finally ready to kill me?” Reaching out again, he tried to grasp Hook, but the pirate caught his arm, held him as he pulled back to mock, “Or try.”

“I’m not that man any more,” Hook insisted through clenched teeth. “I finally learned… what it meant to live.” He looked away then, and Rumplestiltskin couldn’t help but moisten his lips in interest, wondering what caused the man’s discomfort in that moment, and how he could benefit from it the most and persuade the man to set him free. His answer came mere moments later, “And I’m willing to set aside my revenge to ask… to ask you for your help.”

Hook ran a hand over his forehead, humility obviously so alien to him that it made Rumplestiltskin laugh again, until the laugh became a sniff, and then another, until he was sniffing the air freely and said, “Yes, I thought I smelled desperation. My speciality.” Then, playing… dancing in his cell, his arms threading through the bars he asked, “So what’s the problem? A plague, a woman, a curse?”

“A daughter.” Hook confessed, his eyes closed, “A witch has locked her in a tower, and I… I need magic to set her FREE!”

Hook was breathing hard, his emotion was so ragged, and Rumplestiltskin almost… almost softened, as he said, “Oh, that’s doubly tragic.” Then he raised a finger and, in a sing-song voice, continued, “For you have come to the wrong place.” He wagged his finger from side to side as he explained, “No magic here.”

Looking around Hook said, “I know this place drains your power.”

“Yes,” he agreed, making a pantomime of sinking to the ground, overly dramatic, playing to the moment, “Drains me.”

“If you help me,” Hook said, “If you help me free my daughter from her prison, I’ll finally free you from yours.”

Hearing the words he had manipulated the moment to bring into being spoken, falling from Hook’s lips, Rumplestiltskin fought not to let his elation show on his face. Not yet… no not yet. Instead he stilled, looking up at Hook with a lost expression, turning to one of hope as he started to rise, asking almost incoherently, “Y…ou… want a de…deal?”

“Yes, a deal.”

“Deal…!” He let his elation free at last to cement the path on which they walked, laughing and clapping as he sang, excitedly, “Deal, I remember I use to… LOVE those.” Then becoming serious, revealing what he had known all along would benefit both Hook, and himself, confided, “There is something. A magic weapon with the power to shatter any prison.” He spread his arms through the bars. Then with a frown of consternation, and not meeting Hooks eyes he said, “But it’s terribly difficult to obtain; terribly, terribly, terribly difficult to obtain.”

Hook spoke over him. “Just tell me where it is.”

Coming to life again, louder than was probably necessary, Rumplestiltskin declared, “It’s not a question of where, Dearie, but who!” He barely paused. “This magic is in the hands of another famous captain.” He gestured toward Hook. “And you and I both know, pirates don’t give up what’s theirs… without a fight.”

~0~0~

Tiger Lily saw the flash of magic from the tower and turned away. She had failed – again. The one remaining chance she knew she had to alter the course of Rumplestilkskin’s destiny back… away from the darkness, and the hate, and the anger that had taken him in the first place and plucked him from what should have been. Lamentation silently filled her heart, but then…

I release you. I free your heart.

The words were ethereal, carried on the hint of magic already so strained as to be virtually a whisper in the world. But that they heard them was a testament to the feelings that their owner would never yet admit.

“Now, Tiger Lily,” Blue cried urgently, and grasped her hand. “Quickly now!”

The two fairies transformed, flying into the air with all their power and light streaming behind them, already crying the words they would need to subvert the intent of the geas, and save the girl’s soul from the endless torment they knew she would suffer, knowing what… or who… awaited her in the Dark Realm.

“Too late… too late!” Tiger Lily wept as they alighted on the narrow ledge of what passed for a window and saw what carnage The Queen’s spell had left behind. She turned her face away, thinking she was – feeling she was as lost as a soul wandering eternally in the Infinite Forest.

“He needs to admit…” Blue answered sorrowfully, “Admit the way he feels. Only then—”

“Only then what?” Tiger Lily snapped, flying backwards away from The Blue Fairy. “She’s gone.”

“Yes,” Blue agreed, “Yes she is… and just for once I cannot see, cannot know, as I know all things… but I have a feeling that fate is not done with Rumplestiltskin yet.”

End Notes: Wish!Tiger Lily’s story has proceeded a little differently from her other self.

#ouat #rumbelle #au #angst

0 notes