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Horses.
That was the sound that told Rumplestiltskin they were coming to take his boy away. The same war that had threatened to kill him, that had ruined his leg and his marriage, was coming to claim his son. And as then, there was almost nothing he could do.
Rumplestiltskin rushed into the town square where the children of the village were playing as fast as his legs and walking stick could carry him. By the time he arrived, the soldiers had already taken Baelfire’s friend Morraine, placing her on one of the horses under armed guard. Bae stood nearby, his hands balled into fists.
“Papa!” he said when he saw him. With a glance at the soldiers, he ran across the square toward him. “They’re taking Morraine. They said they’ve lowered the age of conscription to fourteen.”
His brown eyes, so like Rumple’s own, were wide with worry.
Before Rumplestiltskin could say anything, one of the soldiers cut a wide arc across the square on horseback, taking Morraine with him and blocking Bae’s path toward his father. Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire both froze.
“And you, boy,” said the soldier, looking down at him with a cold expression. “How old are you?”
“Bae—” Rumple tried to stop him, but his son had always had more fire than him.
“My name is Baelfire, and I turn fourteen in four days,” he said defiantly. “Let my friend go, you creep.”
Rumplestiltskin cringed in fear. Clearly he had missed something between the soldier and Morraine.
“Bae, it’s okay—” Morraine tried to intervene, but the soldier was already dismounting his horse. Even on foot, he towered over Baelfire, his bulky armored frame nearly twice the size of the slender boy.
“What did you call me?” the soldier said tightly. A dangerous smile with no teeth was spreading across his face. “The name’s Hordor, Captain Hordor, loyal soldier of the Duke of the Frontlands. I must have misheard you. Surely a promising young recruit like you would show the proper respect for your future commander, especially if you don’t want me to conscript you early.”
Baelfire took half a step back, shaking, but his angry gaze didn’t falter. “You’re a creep. I would never serve under you.”
Hordor grinned and raised an armored hand. “Oh, we’ll see about that.” Rumplestiltskin finally found himself moving again, limping as fast as he could around the horse, but he knew he would never make it in time.
Suddenly, a cloaked figure darted past him. “Stop!” said a voice that wasn’t his. The figure came to a stop, arms outstretched, in front of Baelfire just in time to collide with the back of Hordor’s hand. The figure reeled back in pain and surprise but remained standing.
Rumplestiltskin was stunned. He stepped forward as the stranger lowered their hood to reveal a small young woman with curly chestnut-brown hair. Her bright blue eyes were currently ablaze with defiance, and a small cut on her cheek wept blood from where Hordor’s gauntlet had gashed her. At a glance, Rumple knew her clothes were too finely made to be those of a peasant or villager, not to mention her considerable beauty, and her next words confirmed it.
“My name is Belle, daughter of Sir Maurice of the Avonlea territories.” Her voice, which had a pleasant lilting quality to it, was sharp with anger and outrage. “What do you think you’re doing, trying to hit a child?”
“I’m almost fourteen—” Baelfire protested, and Rumplestiltskin finally reached him and shushed him, pulling his son against his chest protectively.
“Quiet, son,” he murmured, watching the newcomer and the soldier out of the corner of his eye.
“Lady Belle,” Hordor stuttered, glancing around like he half expected a second noblewoman to materialize out of nowhere. “I’m sorry, I had no idea—”
“Of course not,” said Belle, crossing her arms with an imperious look despite the blood trickling down her cheek. “You were attempting to strike an unarmed boy, not me.”
“Orders from the Duke of the Frontlands,” Hordor replied through gritted teeth. “Any able-bodied citizen fourteen years or older is required to join the war against the ogres.”
Belle shook her head disapprovingly. “But he’s not fourteen yet, is he?”
The soldier scowled. “No, not yet.”
“Then I’d suggest you let him go.” The noblewoman’s voice left no room for argument. Rumplestiltskin looked up in disbelief, hardly bearing to hope he and his son might be able to escape unscathed.
For a tense moment, Hordor stared at Belle with barely restrained anger, but then he nodded curtly. He got back up on his horse where Morraine was still sitting anxiously and came about.
He fixed Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire with a glare. “Enjoy your time together,” he said, his face hard. “I’ll be back in four days for the newest recruit to the Duke’s army.”
Hordor returned to his men and galloped off, Morraine still in tow. Baelfire pushed away to stare sadly, his shoulders hunched and small. Rumplestiltskin was still paralyzed with shock, but he snapped out of it when the fire went out of the small woman in front of him and she raised a hand to her cheek unsteadily.
“Ow.” She grimaced. Although the cut was the most noticeable injury, her cheek burned bright red from the force of Hordor’s backhand.
“Thank you for protecting my boy,” Rumplestiltskin said, stepping forward hesitantly. “Are you alright? What’s a noblewoman doing in our humble village?”
Although grateful for her assistance, part of Rumple still feared retribution for his own failure to intervene, but when Belle looked at him and Bae, her face was kind despite the pain. Up close, she was very small, hardly any bigger than Baelfire, but Rumplestiltskin knew looks could be deceiving. If her rescue of Bae and confrontation with Hordor was anything to go by, she was much braver, much stronger, than she looked.
“My face has felt better,” she said with a smile and a wince, “but I’ll live. I heard the Duke of the Frontlands was drafting children into war and came to see if it was true. Clearly it’s even worse than I feared.”
“Indeed it is,” Rumple agreed. “But the daughter of a powerful noble such as yourself? Does your father know you’re here?”
Belle gave him a discerning look before shaking her head. “You’re a clever one, Mr uh?”
“Rumplestiltskin,” he answered with a bow of his head. “And this is my son Baelfire, as you may have noticed.”
If Bae caught his lightly sarcastic tone, he ignored it. “Hello, Miss Belle,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for your help. Do you think we can do something about Hordor and his men? They were saying things about my friend Morraine that made me afraid for her. And what about the war? Is it really so bad they need to send fourteen year olds to the front?”
“These are all great questions,” said Belle, “and ones I came here to answer. And just Belle is fine.”
Villagers were starting to poke their heads out of stalls and buildings to look about curiously now that the soldiers were gone, and this made Rumple anxious.
“Lady Belle,” he said, ignoring her last remark, “I insist you let me treat your injury. Our house isn’t far from here. It’s the least we can do, and it’s, uh, away from prying eyes.”
“That might be best,” she admitted.
XXX
The house Rumplestiltskin lived in with his son was far from grand, but it was clean and orderly with a spinning wheel in the center of the room and beds in the corners. Belle’s curiosity almost made her forget about the lingering stinging sensation in her cheek as she let Rumplestiltskin seat her at a worn wooden table. Having spent her life so far in her father’s castle, this was a new experience for her.
She watched as Rumplestiltskin opened a small medicine kit, Baelfire hovering nearby, and pulled out a small vial of antiseptic and a clean cloth.
“If you’ll allow me,” he said, gesturing toward her cheek.
“Please do.” She smiled gratefully and turned her head toward him.
“I’m terribly sorry you got injured on our account,” Rumplestiltskin said as he applied the contents of the vial to the cloth. He balanced the vial, the cloth, and his walking stick with the practiced ease of someone who had been using one for a long time. “This will sting at first.”
He began to clean her cut, and Belle’s eyes watered briefly before the stinging subsided to manageable levels.
“I’m very grateful for your intervention, but I fear Hordor will be back soon enough, and he’ll be even more vicious than he was this time.”
Even only seeing him out of the corner of her eye, Belle could tell how distressed the spinner was, his face creased with worry and preemptive grief. It was obvious to anyone Rumplestiltskin loved his son more than anything, and Belle’s heart twisted with sympathy.
“It’s not right, what the Duke is doing,” she said when he pulled the cloth away. “And Hordor is clearly a brute. We have to do something about this.”
Rumplestiltskin began to put away the medicine kit. “I agree, but there is nothing I can do. I-I’m no one. I have nothing. I could take Baelfire and run, but even then, if it’s not Hordor, someone else may very well catch us.”
Baelfire scowled. “What kind of an army has someone like Hordor for a captain anyway? I would make a better captain than him.”
“Please don’t, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin pleaded. “I’ve seen what the ogres can do to people. If something happened to you, I couldn’t bear it.”
“No matter the merits of the war, it’s unacceptable to be conscripting children,” Belle said firmly. Her cheek felt better, although it would likely take a few days to heal completely. “I need to tell my father about this. He might be able to reason with the Duke or put political pressure on him. And it would be a big help if you two would come with me to support my story.”
Baelfire’s expression brightened. “Is it true you live in a castle, Belle? If we go with you, can we see it?”
Belle smiled, deeply charmed by the boy’s enthusiasm. “Yes, if it’s alright with your father,” she said, laughing.
Baelfire set upon his father at once. “Papa, we have to go,” he said seriously. “Not just for me—if we talk to Belle’s father, maybe we can save Morraine too.”
Rumplestiltskin hesitated before nodding resolutely. “We can set out first thing in the morning. But first, it’s dinner time. Lady Belle, if you don’t have anywhere to be, you’re welcome to stay for dinner. It’s mutton stew.”
In truth, she had only arrived at the village earlier that day and hadn’t yet secured lodgings anywhere, so she really didn’t have anywhere to be. And stew did sound good.
“I’d be delighted,” she said.
XXX
It turned out Rumplestiltskin was an excellent conversationalist when he was in his element. Over the course of dinner, Belle learned a lot about her new traveling companions, not least of which was that Rumplestiltskin was surprisingly clever and kind for a man who thought so little of himself. In turn, she told him and Bae about how she had run away from the castle in response to the rumors of atrocities happening at the front, determined that someone should do something. She also admitted she had a more general desire for adventure, and this seemed a good place to start, which had earned admiration from Baelfire and a conflicted expression from Rumplestiltskin. The spinner spoke briefly of his reputation as the village coward, but Belle restrained herself from inquiring any further at the look of pain on his face.
The three of them set out in the morning with a bundle of mutton jerky and some supplies Belle purchased in the town square. It was not far to Avonlea and Sir Maurice’s estate, and the return journey was much livelier for Belle with Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin along. Bae was clearly excited to see outside his village and do something helpful, and Rumplestiltskin looked happy to see his son enjoying himself, although he still had an edge of wariness to him.
They arrived at Belle’s home the following day as the sun was reaching its peak in the sky and were hurriedly escorted into the throne room by guards who recognized Belle instantly. The door to the throne room closed behind them with a thud, leaving them alone with Sir Maurice and two guards.
“Belle!”
Her father stood up from his throne and rushed toward her, pulling her into his arms. Belle returned his embrace, patting his back gently.
“I’m okay, Papa,” she tried to reassure him. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry if I worried you.”
Maurice pulled back to examine her face. “You’re hurt. What happened to you? And who are our guests?”
“That’s what we’ve come to talk to you about,” Belle told him, squeezing his arms before letting him go. She gestured for Rumplestiltskin and Bae to step forward. “Things are not well at the front. The war with the ogres is taking many lives, and the Duke of the Frontlands has begun conscripting fourteen year olds to fight. Some of his men have become violent and cruel in carrying out his orders. That’s what happened to my face. Baelfire, Rumplestiltskin, would you be able to tell my father what happened?”
Rumplestiltskin nodded and approached the two of them. “It’s true, sir. A captain in the Duke’s army tried to conscript my son, who is not yet fourteen, and your daughter stopped him. I owe her a great debt, but I fear without intervention many more children will die in the war, including my son. Please, sir, is there anything you can do?”
Maurice’s face, already troubled, grew graver still.
“What you say aligns with the reports from our scouts,” he said. “I believe you, but there is little we can do while the Duke commands the Dark One. Any attempt by our forces to interfere with how the Duke wages his war is sure to draw his ire.”
“If the Dark One’s so powerful, why doesn’t he end the war?” Belle asked, frowning. “Why does the Duke keep him reserved for petty disputes?”
“For that matter,” said Rumplestiltskin, “if he’s so powerful, why is he under the command of the Duke? If I had the powers of the Dark One, I would not be content to work under the banner and do the bidding of a man like the Duke of the Frontlands.”
Rumplestiltskin’s distaste for the Duke, or perhaps for being powerless, was palpable.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Bae agreed.
“Be that as it may,” Maurice said, returning to his throne, “while the Dark One remains in the control of the Duke, I cannot risk our people by intervening. What is happening over there is a tragedy, Belle, but there is nothing we can do.”
Belle stared at him, hurt by his indifference. “I refuse to believe that,” she said. “I’m going to do something about it. Rumple, Bae, come with me.”
XXX
Rumplestiltskin was having a hard time keeping up with the twists and turns of the last few days. After seeing Belle’s father and being denied aid, Belle had insisted on accompanying him and Bae back to their village, where she claimed she had a plan. Unfortunately, the plan involved using his son as bait for the Dark One, which he was less than enthusiastic about.
During the journey, Belle had explained that Rumplestiltskin himself had given her the idea—there had to be a reason the Dark One worked for the Duke, and if they could figure it out, perhaps they could convince him to help them instead in exchange for freeing him.
Rumplestiltskin was far less convinced, but he did agree that the only sensible thing to do would be to return home, and far be it from him to turn down Belle’s continued assistance. He did insist that she hold off on anything drastic, despite Baelfire’s ready acquiescence, until he’d had a chance to first investigate himself.
Rumplestiltskin was not one to insert himself into dangerous situations or even social situations unnecessarily, but he did have a way of finding things out thanks to a lifelong habit of keeping an ear out for signs of danger, and it was better him than Baelfire. With this in mind, he went into town under pretense of selling his yarn and started listening.
As luck would have it, the answers he needed approached him first. Many people in the square were still talking about the soldiers and the war, and as he sat listening to an older woman fret about what the world was coming to, a hooded man noticed his interest in the topic and came up to him.
“I saw the confrontation earlier,” he said in a low voice. “That was you and your son, yes? Terrible pity about the Duke and the war.”
“That’s right,” Rumplestiltskin said, his voice careful as he studied the stranger. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a traveller?”
“Yes, I’m something of a wanderer,” the man answered. “And I hear things out on the road. I may be able to be of some assistance to you. For the right price.”
The man held out a cup, and Rumplestiltskin hesitated only a moment before dropping a few coins in. The way he saw it, he had nothing to lose.
The man nodded gratefully. “Thank you, sir. Tell me of your troubles.”
Rumple laid it all out for him—the soldiers, his son, the threat, how afraid he was. He told him of Belle’s intervention and her ideas about the Dark One. He even told him, briefly, some things he hadn’t even mentioned to Belle, about his own experiences in war and why Baelfire was all he had. Anything he thought might be relevant, he shared with the wanderer in increasing desperation as the sun began to sink on the last day before Hordor was set to return.
“You’ve walked a tough road,” the wanderer said solemnly. “But I’ve heard something that may be of interest to you. Rumor has it the Duke controls the Dark One by means of a magical dagger he keeps hidden in his castle. Whoever controls the dagger controls the Dark One. With that power, you wouldn’t even need the aid of Sir Maurice. You could save your son yourself.”
Rumplestiltskin considered this. Could this be true? Where would the stranger have heard about such a thing? But the truth was, it didn’t matter—if it offered even a chance to save his son, he would do it. There was, however, another problem.
“To keep a man like the Dark One as a slave? I couldn’t—I’d be terrified.”
The wanderer nodded grimly. “There is another way,” he said. “They say one who kills the Dark One with the dagger becomes the Dark One. His powers would become your own.”
XXX
When Rumplestiltskin returned home later that night, his expression was wild and he smelled of smoke. Belle sat up from where she had been reading to Baelfire by the hearth as they waited and hurried over to him.
“Are you alright?” she asked, grabbing his arm to check him over. “What did you find out? What happened?”
“I’m singed, but I’m fine,” he assured her. “I found what we needed.”
He sounded exhilarated as he carefully pulled a dagger out of his cloak, holding it up for Belle and Bae to see. About a foot long, its blade flared in and out in a wave pattern, and a name was inscribed on it in black—Zoso.
“What is it?” Belle asked. “Who is Zo—“
“Don’t say the name,” Rumple hissed in alarm. “It’s the name of the Dark One. This is his dagger. The Duke was using it to control him, but I burned his castle and I took it.”
“You did what?!” Bae exclaimed. “And you didn’t invite us?”
“It was too dangerous, and we’re low on time,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Speaking of, it’s late. Bae, I need you to go to bed. I need to discuss this with Belle.”
“But I want to help,” Bae argued. With his bright brown eyes wide and pleading, he looked just like his father, and Belle glanced at the older man, his soot-stained face set with determination.
“You’ve already helped,” Rumplestiltskin promised. “I’m doing this for you. I love you.”
Baelfire looked conflicted, but he gave his father a careful good night hug, avoiding the dagger Rumple was still holding. “Okay. Good night, Papa. I love you too.”
Baelfire went to bed, and exchanging a look, Belle followed Rumplestiltskin outside. It was a cool night in early autumn with only a handful of stars visible, and Belle pulled her cloak tighter. She had a lot of questions about all this.
“How did you find out about this?” she asked. “How do you know this is the real thing?”
“I don’t,” he answered simply. “But it’s my only chance. It’s worth the risk.”
Not for the first time, Belle studied the spinner in front of her. He was older than her by at least a decade or two, but he was handsome in a gentle way, with long, soft brown hair, soulful eyes, and a fine nose. When he smiled, it felt like being given a precious gift, like a rose in the dead of winter. He’d said he was a coward, but he’d just admitted to burning down a building and presumably walking through fire to steal the dagger to save his son. Belle was impressed.
“Okay, so we have the dagger,” she conceded. “What are we going to do with it? How does it work?”
“Whoever holds the dagger commands the Dark One,” Rumplestiltskin explained, showing her the name upon the blade again. “But there is another option. Killing the Dark One with the dagger transfers his powers to the holder, making them the new Dark One. Imagine what we could do with those powers. We could end the war. We could save the children from the front.”
“But isn’t that murder?” Belle said skeptically. “Why not just use the dagger as the Duke has been doing?”
“For one thing, someone could do to us what I just did to the Duke,” Rumplestiltskin quipped. “For another, is enslaving the Dark One really better? I imagine either way he won’t be happy with us, but one way he won’t be around to do anything about it.”
“We don’t know for sure that the Dark One agrees with the Duke or even had any choice in the matter,” Belle argued. “We might be able to reason with him.”
“He’s called the Dark One, Belle,” Rumple said, exasperated. “I don’t think he got the name for being reasonable.”
“And you’re suggesting becoming the Dark One instead?” Belle raised her eyebrows at him, annoyed, but then she realized something.
“You called me Belle, just Belle,” she said in surprise. Despite his frustrated tone, her name from his mouth made her heart warm.
Rumplestiltskin ducked his head. “Yes, well, that’s what you said to call you, and I thought perhaps we were friends…”
“We are friends,” Belle agreed, “and I’m glad. Will you let me at least try to reason with the Dark One before we do anything drastic?”
She reached for his shoulder, trying to get his attention, but he looked up at her unexpectedly, and her hand ended up brushing his cheek. His eyes glowed warm and hopeful in the torchlight.
“Yeah,” he said softly before clearing his throat. “I mean, it’s worth a try. But if anything goes wrong, the dagger may become our only option. Okay?”
“Okay.” Unable to stop herself, Belle brushed Rumple’s hair out of his face and smiled at him. It was just as soft as she’d been hoping. If they got the Dark One on their side and Rumple wasn’t arrested for arson, maybe she would be able to touch it more in the future.
XXX
The forest outside of town was dark, cool, and most importantly, secluded. If they succeeded in summoning the Dark One and things somehow went awry, there would be no witnesses and no way for the Dark One to link Rumplestiltskin to Baelfire. He didn’t particularly care what the Dark One did to the rest of the town, but he wasn’t going to lead the most powerful man in the realm any closer to his son than he had to.
Rumple came to a stop in a small clearing, Belle close behind him. Her face was serious in the torchlight.
“Should you do it or should I?” Rumplestiltskin asked, withdrawing the dagger from his cloak.
“Hold onto it,” she said, holding the torch near the blade so the name was illuminated. “I trust you to have my back.”
Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure about that, but he nodded and stared at the blade.
“Are you ready?” he said.
Belle squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Ready.”
“Zoso. Zoso, I summon thee.”
Rumplestiltskin braced himself, for what he wasn’t sure. For a moment, there was silence. Then, he felt a prickling on the back of his neck and spun around, brandishing the dagger. Belle gasped.
Standing silently behind them was a cloaked figure, his face obscured. The only part of him visible was his close-lipped smile, his skin an unnatural shimmering texture.
“Who summons me?” said the figure in a deep, ringing voice. “What do you want?”
“Hello,” Belle said with a little wave. Rumplestiltskin was amazed at her poise, feeling somewhat petrified with fear himself. “We have your dagger. We were hoping you could help us end the ogre wars in exchange for freeing you from the Duke.”
The figure, the Dark One, surged forward, his feet seemingly not touching the ground, and came to a stop less than a foot away from Belle. She flinched but didn’t back down.
“Foolish girl,” he said. “If I wanted to end the war, don’t you think I would have done so already, with or without the Duke’s command?”
Belle faltered. “I wasn’t sure of his hold on you…”
“I see you do have my dagger, though,” the Dark One said, and his malevolent smile grew. “Perhaps I will take from you after all, starting with your life.”
The Dark One lunged suddenly, a scaly hand appearing from the depths of his cloak and wrapping itself around Belle’s throat, lifting her into the air. Her beautiful blue eyes went wide with panic. Rumplestiltskin found himself moving at once.
“Stop!” he yelled, raising the dagger in the hand not holding his staff. “Release her immediately!”
To his surprise, the dagger worked. The Dark One’s hand unfurled and Belle fell to her knees, gasping. The Dark One turned to face him, still grinning.
“What say you, Rumplestiltskin?” the Dark One said, and Rumple’s blood ran cold at his knowledge of his name. “What do you want?”
Belle was still kneeling, dazed, and Rumplestiltskin’s heart was still pounding with fear, fear for Belle, fear for Baelfire, fear for himself, but something else too—anger. He knew what he wanted.
“I want you to die,” he hissed, and Rumplestiltskin drove the dagger into the Dark One’s heart.
XXX
What happened next was a blur. Belle watched in the light of the dying torch, which she had dropped in a panic, as a rush of magic washed over Rumplestiltskin, turning his skin the same shimmering color and texture as the Dark One’s. The Dark One murmured something to a stunned Rumplestiltskin, who pulled the dagger from his chest and stared at it. Even from a distance, Belle could read the name now written on it.
Rumplestiltskin.
The man in question stumbled to his feet, having collapsed to the forest floor on top of Zoso due to the force of his attack. He looked at her with wild eyes, no longer that deep brown, but an inhuman yellow, the dagger still covered in blood.
“Are you alright?” he said, breathing hard. His staff lay abandoned on the ground.
“Fine,” Belle stammered. Her throat was sore, but she’d live. “Is he dead? Did you kill him?”
“Seems that way.” Rumplestiltskin nudged the body with his foot. It didn’t move. “That was the man who told me where to find the dagger. He wanted this to happen.”
Belle was bewildered. “Why would he want you to kill him?”
Rumplestiltskin knelt to clean the blood off the dagger on the old Dark One’s cloak. “The last thing he said was, ‘All magic comes with a price, and now it’s yours to pay.’” Rumple stood up and tucked the dagger back into his cloak. “I suppose he’d had enough.”
Belle continued to stare at Rumple in confusion. “You’re taking this really well,” she noted.
Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “I had a feeling it would come to this,” he admitted. “And for the first time in my life, I feel… powerful. Like I can do anything. Like I can keep Baelfire safe. And you. If you’d like.”
He hesitated for a moment before picking up his staff, studying the object in his hands. “I don’t need this anymore,” he said, vaguely surprised. “Here. Watch this.”
He spun the walking stick in a wide flourish and when it stopped moving, he was no longer holding a long thin piece of wood, but a bouquet of red roses.
“For you,” he said, smiling. “For all your generosity and help.”
Belle took the roses, stunned. Her face felt warm despite the cool night air. “They’re beautiful, but really, I should be the one thanking you,” she insisted. “You saved me.”
“Consider it a debt repaid for saving Baelfire,” Rumple replied. “Now we are quite even.”
“I suppose,” said Belle. She picked up the torch off the ground and began to go back the way they had come. Rumplestiltskin followed her. “Then what are the flowers for?”
“A gift between friends,” he said. “That’s something friends do, yes?”
“I think we might be co-conspirators at this point, but yes,” Belle said, smiling. “Thank you for the flowers, Rumple.”
XXX
When Hordor and his men arrived the next day, Rumplestiltskin was ready for them. He stood on his own two feet in the middle of the square, Belle and Bae nearby, and watched as the horses approached.
“Oh, it’s you again,” said Hordor, dismounting in the square. “The coward Rumplestiltskin, correct? You better stand aside—we’re here for your son, not you, but we could always make an exception.”
“I’m afraid you won’t be taking anyone today,” Rumplestiltskin said. His tone was pleasant, but his teeth were bared, revealing unusually sharp points. He lunged forward with inhuman speed.
Hordor and his men yelped in surprise as the new Dark One plunged his fist into Hordor’s stomach, denting his armor. One of the men attempted to skirt around the edge of the square toward Baelfire, but Rumplestiltskin snapped his fingers, and the stones of the square flew up and tripped him. The other two soldiers drew their swords and approached warily.
Rumplestiltskin drew his dagger. That anger from before surged in him again, and he snarled at the soldiers. He wanted to kill them, and after all, why shouldn’t he? They had been happy to sentence his Baelfire to death, to hurt Belle, to threaten children. The world would be better off without them.
Belle must’ve understood his line of thinking.
“You don’t have to kill them, Rumple,” she called, her tone worried. “You’re better than that.”
“I don’t know that I am,” he replied, but he stowed the dagger again. “But I suppose there are more unique ways to prove a point.”
He snapped his fingers again, and the soldiers’ swords turned into daisies. He disappeared in a puff of purple smoke and reappeared by their abandoned horses.
“Run free, dearies,” he told the horses, and they shook their manes in agreement before galloping off.
Hordor glared at him with contempt in his eyes. “Do your powers only extend to flowers and ponies?” he taunted.
A lifetime of indignities boiled under Rumplestiltskin’s skin. “You should run,” he said in a voice shaking with barely restrained rage. “All of you should run and not come back if you want to live.”
The man who had tripped on the stones glanced between Rumplestiltskin, taking in his unusual skin tone and the dagger at his belt, and the fleeing horses, and made his choice. He jumped up, sporting what appeared to be a broken nose, and ran after his horse. The other two soldiers exchanged a look before throwing away what used to be their swords and following after him. But Hordor’s eyes landed on something else.
Belle.
He pulled a short knife from his boot and charged her. “You should have let me take the boy last time,” he growled. “It would have been a lot less messy.”
Rumplestiltskin intercepted him before he even realized what he was doing. He appeared between Hordor and Belle and grabbed the man’s arm hard enough to hear something crack. Hordor dropped the knife.
“If you want to keep that arm,” Rumplestiltskin spat out, “I’d suggest you run, dearie.”
He squeezed again and Hordor howled. Rumplestiltskin threw him to the floor.
Hordor seemed to get the message that time. He stumbled to his feet, his arm hanging limply, and sprinted across the square after the other soldiers. After a few moments, he disappeared from view.
Baelfire ran over.
“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously, grabbing Rumple’s shoulder. “Is it over? Did we win?”
Rumplestiltskin smiled in relief, seeing that Bae was unharmed. He pulled Bae into a hug. “Yes, I think so,” he said into his son’s hair. “Everything’s okay now, son.”
Belle touched his shoulder, and he looked up at her gratefully. Her act of kindness had made all this possible. Not only that, but she had helped him be brave. He owed her more than flowers, he thought, and now he had the means to do so.
The only thing that still bothered him was what Zoso had said before he died. “All magic comes with a price, and now it’s yours to pay.” Rumplestiltskin wasn’t particularly keen on paying any price, but surely that could wait for another day. At the moment, as he understood it, he had a war to end.
XXX
Six months later
Baelfire burst into the castle library. “He’s done it—he agreed to give up the Curse if we can find a way to break it,” he said excitedly.
Belle hurriedly put her book aside and stood up from her armchair to join Baelfire. “Bae, that’s wonderful news,” she said, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “I knew he could be convinced. He’d do anything for you, you know.”
Bae ducked his head much like his father did before grinning up at her. “Saying that you were worried about him didn’t hurt either.”
Belle blushed even though it was true she was worried. Despite Rumplestiltskin’s good intentions, the Curse of the Dark One had only grown in its influence over him since he’d nearly killed Hordor and his men. He had managed to end the war and bring the children home, which had been one of the most amazing and selfless things Belle had ever seen, but it had quickly become apparent that Zoso had been right—all magic came with a price, and Rumplestiltskin was paying it.
He’d grown paranoid and defensive, distrustful of everyone around him even after Belle had invited him and Baelfire to move closer to her in the Avonlea territories for a fresh start. Even petty slights could move him to violence without Bae or Belle’s intervention, and he’d begun to turn to magic for everything, not just emergencies. It had Baelfire frightened, and even Belle, who fancied herself brave most of the time, was getting concerned.
Fortunately, the moment she’d returned home to the castle library after her adventure, she had jumped straight into researching everything she could about curses, the Dark One, and magic in general. And when Bae had first come to her with his fears about how the Curse was affecting his papa, Belle had pivoted to researching curse removal specifically.
Many curses had unique or more easily accessible solutions, such as wearing off with time or completing a certain task, but what Belle had learned was that there was one catch-all sure-fire guaranteed way to break any curse, if you were lucky enough to have it—True Love’s Kiss.
And ever since she’d learned about it a few weeks ago, she’d been wanting to give it a try.
“That’s good,” Belle said, suddenly feeling almost shy. “That means there’s a chance my plan will work. And if it doesn’t, well…I still think it might be a good idea.”
“Which plan is this one?” Bae asked, squinting in thought. His eyebrows shot up as he seemingly remembered. “If it’s not the fairy plan, is it the one where you—“
“Yes,” Belle interrupted quickly, embarrassed even though last she checked, the library was empty except for them. “It would be very convenient, wouldn’t it? Do you think I have a chance?”
Bae nodded fervently. “Papa hates being around people, but he loves being around you. And earlier he asked me how I feel about you, and I said you’re kind and brave and smart, and he agreed.”
“Aw, thank you, Bae,” Belle said, giggling self-consciously. “He really agreed?”
“And he said you’re beautiful,” Bae confided. “I said you’re kind and brave and smart, and he said, ‘Yeah, she is, and beautiful.‘“
This was very encouraging, although nerve-wracking in its own right regardless of its curse-breaking potential. Belle nodded resolutely, gathering her courage.
“Okay then,” she said, smoothing down her skirt and running her fingers through her hair, which was currently styled loose around her shoulders. “There’s no time like the present. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Bae said, serious for a moment. “I hope it works.”
“You and me both,” she said with a smile.
XXX
Rumplestiltskin was in the receiving hall upholding his end of a deal with Sir Maurice when he heard someone come in. Since he and Baelfire had been staying in the castle, he had made several deals and done several tasks for its inhabitants by way of thanks and as part of his efforts to ensure he and Baelfire would remain safe and wanted in Avonlea. Presently, he was attempting to use his magic to prepare the hall for an upcoming celebration which may or may not have been in Belle’s honor which may or may not have been the reason he’d agreed to help.
“What are you working on, Rumple?” said a lilting voice, and he spun around, not having expected her to be so close. He smiled at her, relieved it was Belle. She looked beautiful today as ever, in a cotton blue dress with her hair down, her blue eyes bright with warmth.
One of the first things Rumplestiltskin had learned to do with magic after taking on the Curse was spin straw into gold. It had been something of an accident, but he’d used the money to make Bae and himself more presentable, something he had been very grateful he had done since moving to this estate. While he was still no match for Belle’s beauty, his fine golden shirt and red brocade waistcoat made him look a lot less out of place in her castle.
“I’m doing your father a favor,” he said smoothly. “Which of these do you prefer?”
Rumplestiltskin waved a hand in the direction of a small stage set up with instruments, which began to float and play a jaunty tune which admittedly was more suitable for a tavern than a nobleman’s hall. After a few bars, he waved his hand again, and the instruments switched to playing something slow and sweet, like lovers might dance to.
“They’re both lovely, but the second one is more formal,” Belle said, tilting her head as a violin crooned a long sustained note. “What’s the occasion?”
“I’m not supposed to say,” Rumple admitted, but he couldn’t resist a sly wink, which made Belle laugh.
“Noted,” she said, squeezing his hand. Rumple’s eyes widened in surprise. Belle was always tactile, but while many people had been looking at Rumplestiltskin with increasing fear and revulsion since he’d become the Dark One, Belle had if anything started touching him more. It made him feel like he’d missed a step going down the stairs, but he didn’t want her to stop either.
“Hey, if you’re not busy, can I talk to you about something?” she asked, looking up at him. She looked nervous, which instantly set Rumplestiltskin on guard.
“Never too busy for you,” he said, his stomach in knots. “Is it serious?”
“A little bit,” she said, and Rumplestiltskin’s heart rate spiked in the time it took her to take a deep breath. “Baelfire told me you’ve agreed to give up the Curse if he can find a way to break it. And I might have found a way.”
Rumplestiltskin froze. The truth was, he had been hoping Bae wouldn’t have any luck. He liked having magic. It made him feel safe and useful. But of course, if Bae had gotten Belle in on the search, it was no wonder she had found something. She was remarkably clever.
“What is it?” he asked in a strained voice.
“It’s perfectly safe,” she assured him, which didn’t answer his question. “Would you be willing to try it?”
“What, right now?” he hedged. She nodded hopefully. Rumplestiltskin tried to calm down and think it through. He’d stockpiled enough gold thread for a lifetime or two already, and he’d done everything in his power to keep Bae safe. They were happy in the castle, but if something went wrong, they wouldn’t be dependent on the good graces of nobility as long as they had the gold. But there were so many other things that could go wrong that even gold wouldn’t be able to fix.
“I’d just be a spinner again,” he said, trying to explain his hesitation. “A nobody who can’t even walk without a staff. Why would you and Bae ever want that man back?”
“That man was kind and brave, and he’s still in you, I promise,” Belle said earnestly. “You didn’t need magic to burn down the Duke’s castle and take the dagger, and you don’t need to have magic for people to care about you, to want you around.”
“Yeah, but it helps,” he muttered.
Belle gave him a disapproving look, and he raised his hands apologetically.
“Even with the Curse, you’re a good man, but can’t you see how it’s affecting you?” she pleaded. “You almost killed the maid earlier for overhearing you and Bae talking about the dagger! You broke a guard’s legs for being rude to you!”
“He deserved that,” Rumplestiltskin argued, but the hurt on Belle’s face gave him pause. “I suppose it was a slight overreaction.”
“Without the Curse, you wouldn’t have to worry about the dagger or the price of magic,” Belle pointed out. “You said once you wanted to turn the power of the Dark One towards good. I think the best way to do that is to rid the world of it. And who knows? There are practitioners of magic besides the Dark One. Maybe you could take what you’ve learned and find a new source of magic with less…”
“Darkness?” Rumple quipped.
“I was thinking side effects,” Belle said, shaking her head. “Please? Will you try it? For me and Bae? It might not even work.”
“If you found it, it will work,” Rumplestiltskin said gravely. “But I’ll try it. What do I do?”
Belle beamed, and it almost made the whole thing worth it.
“Just stand still,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Then she perched on her tiptoes and kissed him. For a moment, he was paralyzed with shock, but her lips were soft and gentle, and he found himself kissing her back, his heart overflowing with affection. Was this part of the plan, or was she just happy he had agreed? His hand, frozen an inch away from her, eventually came to rest on her upper arm before she withdrew.
“It’s working,” she said, awe and delight etched on her beautiful face.
“It’s what?” Rumplestiltskin murmured in a daze. Although the kiss had been more tender than heated, the surprise had taken his breath away.
There was a sudden crashing noise as the instruments, which had been merrily playing along this whole time, fell to the floor. Rumplestiltskin jerked in alarm.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Belle reassured him, petting his hair. “Did you feel that? Magic. True Love’s Kiss. Are you okay?”
Rumplestiltskin felt his ankle shift and begin aching, no longer able to support his weight unaided, and a sensation he had gotten used to, a frantic buzzing under his skin, faded and disappeared. His magic was leaving him.
“I-I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m afraid.”
“I know, love.” Belle kept stroking his hair, and he stared at her pleadingly. “You’re being so brave. It’s okay. I love you.”
“You do?” he asked, as if she hadn’t just broken his curse via what was evidently True Love’s Kiss.
“I do,” she said gently.
“I love you too,” he said, stunned. “I can’t believe…”
“You’re very loveable,” she said, grinning, and he scoffed.
“My first wife would disagree,” he muttered. He shifted uncomfortably on his bad ankle and ended up leaning on Belle, burying his face in her hair.
“Forget about her,” she said, kissing his forehead. “She was a fool to leave you, but I’m happy she did because now you’re here with me. Is your ankle okay?”
“Well, it’s not functional anymore, but it’s not actively broken either,” he said. “You’re sure this is what you and Bae wanted?”
“Promise,” said Belle, guiding him over to sit on the edge of the small stage covered haphazardly in instruments. At least none of them had outright shattered at the fall. That would’ve caused quite a hit to his gold thread savings.
“If you insist,” he said. “How do I look? Human?”
“Handsome,” Belle said. “But also human. Like you did when I met you.”
“At least I’m not any worse,” he said, half-joking. Belle swatted his shoulder.
“Bae’s going to be very happy,” she told him. “He was rooting for us.”
“Bae was involved in this plan?” Rumple supposed that made sense. “Is he waiting to hear how it went?”
Belle glanced at Rumplestiltskin with a look in her eyes it took him a moment to identify—she was being coy. “He knows I went to see you, but I didn’t say how long it would take.”
She sat down next to him on the stage and put her hand on his thigh. “I’m sure we have a few moments before anyone comes looking for us.”
Rumplestiltskin felt his lips quirk in a smile despite himself. “You know, it does occur to me there is one more reason breaking the Curse was a good idea.”
“And what might that be?” Belle said, looking like she already knew the answer.
“I can do this,” he said simply and pulled her into a lingering kiss.