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“Mirror, mirror on the wall.”
Rumplestiltskin stood before the magic mirror. Safe in his heavily warded Dark Castle, he fidgeted nervously. This was a terrible idea. He knew it was a bad idea the first time he commanded the genie trapped inside on a whim, and instead of the darkness he had expected, the man showed him a person. Yet, he still found himself back here.
“Show me the one I will love above them all.”
The face, which had previously looked at him with disdain when he first acquired the trapped genie, now regarded him with pity. It made his yellow teeth grind that such a creature dared look upon him that way. He preferred hatred and fear. They did not make him want to flee like he did when he remembered a village long gone that scorned a crippled spinner.
He growled, “Just—show me her!”
The genie bowed his head, “As you wish, master.”
The mirror’s surfaces swirled with light as the grey face disappeared.
The mirror didn’t show the grand hall of the Dark Castle or the trapped being; instead, it reflected a leather lounge chair in front of a fire, surrounded by bookcases along the wall. Sitting in the chair and sipping from a cup of tea was a young girl with long brunette hair and bright, intelligent blue eyes, wearing a rich yellow gown that only a noble could afford.
The spine of the book read The History of Avlona and Her People. She was studying again. He had seen her the most reading in this library, always with a different book. Although sometimes she read what he imagined a literate child would want to read—stories of fantasy, magic, and valiant knights—most of the time she read books on history, politics, agriculture, and even—much to his dismay—war.
Although she was reading well above her level and diligently studying how to be an effective ruler, she could never hold a position of power under her kingdom’s laws.
He hated humans.
They never changed.
He watched her read until one of her ladies in waiting interrupted her, snapping him out of his daze. He waved his hand, and the image vanished in a whirl of color, replaced by the contemplative face of the genie.
He turned around to leave when the mirror spoke.
“Why do you only watch from afar? If you wanted her, you could have her?”
Memories of Hordor and how he had leered at Morraine flashed before his mind, and a wave of disgust burned through his veins. He turned around, snarling, walking up to face the mirror.
“She’s a child!” He spat, “I may be a monster, dearie, but I will never be that kind of monster.”
The genie bobbed his head as best he could in an approximation of a bow.
“And you are immortal. She will not be a child forever.”
He hated the magic mirror that he had acquired because a vision had warned him it could alter his fate.
He hated that stupid deal he made with Regina for him.
Hated that the damn thing had grown to pity him!
Hated that he asked that question on a whim, desperately rephrasing it to see his son, even though every time he asked before, the magic failed.
He hated that the child and coward of a spinner who desperately sought out others’ love somehow survived the cruelties of the world and the darkness of the foulest curse in all the realms, and still lived inside him.
But most of all, he hated that the damn genie was right.
“No one could ever love a monster like me,” he said, his shoulders slumping as the anger left him.
The genie hummed, “That’s not how the magic works, and you know it. Belle, princess of Avlona, is destined to be your True Love, Rumpelstiltskin. Perhaps it would be advantageous to gain her friendship before she knows of you.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like it.”
The genie sighed, “Nothing untoward. You’re surprisingly noble for a dark sorcerer, more than I have seen many nobles display. But surely, there is no harm in writing her a letter? Asking her about her day? Showing interest in her academic pursuits, especially when those around her discourage her from such activities? Perhaps, then, when your vision of the future comes to pass, she will not be as terrified as you expect.”
“I know too much. Writing to her now would be manipulation. No, no, I will not be doing that, dearie.”
The face raised an eyebrow.
“Then why not forget what you know?”
He froze completely still. In theory, he could craft a memory potion that targets specific knowledge and manipulates others. He could preserve the memory of his vision about Belle helping him find his lost son. He could distort his understanding so that he believed the more he knew about her, the sooner she would help him find Baelfire in the future. That way, he could write to her without outside influence. He would forget ever seeing her in the mirror. He would never realize that she was meant to be his True Love.
A grin spread across his face. He tapped his sharp nails together and giggled as he hopped on the tips of his toes.
“Well, dearie, I’d better be off. I have a memory potion to brew!”