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Lake Nostos was as smooth as a millpond when Rumplestiltskin arrived; its mirrored surface reflecting the crescent moon in the night’s sky, like a Cheshire cat’s grin. The Siren was nowhere to be seen. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t around, lying in wait.
And dear little Grace didn’t have time to waste.
Jefferson had intruded on Rumple’s solitude earlier that evening. Refusing the persistent summons of desperate souls calling on him to make a deal, Rumple had shut himself up in his castle in favour of spinning alone in his gloomy dining room, dust covering every surface since Belle had left.
Belle… Oh Belle…
Rumple glanced over his shoulder. The rose he had offered Belle still sat in its brass pot on the long table, gleaming over the tea tray with a silver sterling teapot of hot tea and two empty cups, which Rumple had positioned in the vain hope that a certain beauty would walk back in one day. These were only things not covered in dust aside from his spinning wheel and the chipped teacup sitting on its plinth.
She died.
You’re lying.
Am I?
Rumple had hated himself for believing Regina in that moment. But long and bitter experience of what the world was going to hand to him had made it easy for him to believe her without any evidence. That it didn’t occur to him that it was not true.
After a good cry over their chipped cup, a kind of desperate madness overpowered him. He teleported to the tower he believed Belle had thrown herself off of and began tearing it down, brick by brick, digging in the foundations, clawing at the earth at its base, desperately looking for proof that it was all a lie, that his Belle wasn’t dead. But he had unearthed no skeleton in a faded, torn, bloodstained, blue maid’s dress. And the cleric’s ledger held no record of any maiden sent to them to be cleansed of the Dark One’s evil.
So Rumple had abducted her father from his restored, comfy castle in Avonlea and threw him into Belle’s old dungeon, demanding to know where Belle was and what had happened to her after she left his castle. Maurice had acted as though he didn’t know what the Dark One was talking about as Rumple beat him with his old walking staff.
One hour, five broken ribs, a fracture skull, a broken arm and half a bottle of truth potion later, Rumple was forced to accept that Maurice was telling the truth. Belle had not gone back to Avonlea, her father had not sent her to any clerics and she had not plunged to her death off any tower. But, drugged up on truth potion, Maurice’s loose tongue had run away with him as he confessed that had Belle returned home with fanciful delusions of being in love with the monster who had held her captive, the clerics were exactly where he would have sent her to cleanse her soul, that death would’ve be better than cursed to loving a beast for all eternity, and if she ever returned home his injuries would be proof of the kind of villain he really was.
So Rumple had wiped Maurice’s bloody face clean for him, and his memory to boot, and magicked him back to his bed, leaving Rumple to brood over everything he had learned. Regina was a liar. Maurice was a bastard. And Belle was alive and, with any luck, seeing the world and having all the adventures she had longed for. She hadn’t gone home to her father in Avonlea, but she hadn’t returned home to Rumple in the Dark Castle either.
Rumple could’ve summoned Belle’s image in the crystal ball Jefferson had retrieved for him from Oz, but he hadn’t been brave enough to see if she was unhappy, or worse, happy without him. He would no force her to come back if she didn’t want to. If Belle returned it was because she wanted to see him. And why would she want to after everything that had happened?
Rumple’s heart missed a beat when he’d heard the front door open in the foyer outside. He had setup wards around the castle stopping not only his enemies from entering (fairies, pirates, queens and a certain witch – give or take a letter) but anyone wanting to make a deal with him. Only a select few were an exception to the magic. Only they were welcome in his home.
His home was their home.
So she needs… a home?
Could it be? Had she come home? Was she walking back in?
Jefferson had crashed through the double door, carrying his wounded daughter in his arms. He was panting hard, his hair all over his face, looking as if he were about to have a coronary arrest. He had clearly run here. His face white, scared, desperate.
Moving aside the tea tray, Jefferson laid his daughter carefully upon the long table. The two men gathered around an injured Grace.
While Rumple examined her Jefferson had told him that they had been ambushed by knights from Gaston’s kingdom out to avenge their missing-presumed-dead ruler. They had mistaken the Hatter from behind as the Dark One, owing to his overgrown curly hair, his long high-collared black coat from his days as a portal jumper, not to mention the long strand of spun gold in his hand, leftover payment he had earned from one of his jobs with Rumple, ready to spend on a birthday treat for his daughter. Poor Grace saw the attack when Jefferson didn’t and planted herself in front of her father as the sword stabbed into her abdomen.
Blinded by rage, Jefferson had launched himself at the knight and had beaten him repeatedly with his fist and would almost certainly had killed him had he not stopped himself, his knuckles were still bleeding. Then he had seized the blade that had injured his daughter and pointed it at the two knights who remained. Knowing that one cut from this particular sword could kill them with one scratch; the men mounted their horses and rode off, leaving Jefferson to pick up his daughter and run like hell to the only man in the realm who could help them.
Rumple had tried to heal her wound by magic, but all it did was double the pain and made Grace lose consciousness. He dipped his index finger gently into Grace’s wound and popped his blood-soaked finger into his mouth for a second before spitting it out quickly onto the floor, tasting not just blood but dark magic and the unidentifiable yet unmistakable trace of bane.
‘It’s poisoned,’ said Rumple, waving his hand to bandage up her abdomen.
‘Then we make an antidote,’ said Jefferson desperately.
‘It’s not one that I recognised, and precisely why they intended to use it against me. Darkshade they, no doubt, would’ve called it. It’ll take too long to make a cure. By morning she’ll be dead.’
‘Then we find one. With the fairies. They can help us.’
‘No,’ said Rumple sharply. He would not permit the Blue Fairy to set foot inside his castle. He would not let her take another father’s child. Not when she was the culprit to this particular strand of toxin design to kill him. ‘I’m afraid this is going to take something stronger than fairy dust to counteract fairy dust obtained from an evil fairy.’
Jefferson thought for a moment. ‘There is legend of a lake. Its waters are said to have magical properties, that can return to you something that was once lost.’
Rumple knew of which legendary lake Hatter was referring. ‘Lake Nostos. Its waters have powerful magical properties. It could turn a man cursed by the hand of King Midas from solid gold back into flesh. It isn’t far – a day’s journey on foot. A blink of an eye by magic.’
Rumple looked at Jefferson, surprised. ‘And, yet, you never thought to try it?’
‘Of course I have,’ Jefferson argued. ‘But it’s a day’s journey and the lake is guarded by a ghastly creature that drowns its victims. No one who’s ever faced it has lived to return.’
Rumple thought of the mothers and fathers in his old village in the Frontland grieving as their children were ripped away from them as they were drafted into the Ogres war and how they wept as their remains were returned to them from the front. The bits that they could salvage, anyway. He looked down at Grace, sweating and in great discomfort, and he felt he was looking at Bae again after being poisoned by the Atlantean Rat Snake and thought what would’ve happened if he hadn’t procured the cure. An incident that had occurred because Bae couldn’t bear to watch his parents fighting – or rather watch his mother being mean to his coward-branded father. Now Grace was paying the price for what Rumple did to Gaston. He may not have struck the blow, and it wasn’t his fault that Gaston’s knight couldn’t distinguish between a man and a beast, but Rumple was the cause of this. Just as his manipulation of Maleficent, Ursula and Cruella had come back around: constituting the Queens of Darkness, and resulting in Belle being kidnapped and nearly killed to force him to give them the gauntlet.
All actions had consequences.
His eyes flicked to the chipped cup and he saw Belle. A figment of his self-conscious, but no less real. Her eyes pleaded. But Rumple didn’t need a mental projection of Belle to convince him.
He was a bad as the Evil Queen in many ways, perhaps the worst villain who had ever lived, and had never pretended he was innocent or justified in his dark acts. But unlike the Evil Queen, the one thing Rumplestiltskin would never abide was children suffering.
He had to fix this.
‘Then let’s make history.’ Rumple clapped Jefferson on the shoulder. ‘Don’t give up hope just yet, Hatter. I will face this guardian and return with the water that will undo this wretched curse.’
‘None have succeeded,’ Jefferson reminded him.
‘Well that’s because none of them are me.’
‘Just because you’re the Dark One, that doesn’t make you indestructible. Or incorruptible.’
‘I’ve already been corrupted. What more can they do to me? Either way, one of us fathers should have our happiness.’
‘And if you die, neither of us will. I’ll lose Grace. And you’ll never find your Bae. Why would you risk that?’
It was a fair question. Rumple had been working centuries toward that moment. Training Regina to cast the curse, ensuring the conception of the Saviour who would break the curse, even denying making room in his heart for someone other than Bae; denying his own happiness because he felt it would make him no better than Milah choosing romantic love over paternal love. If he got killed now it will all have been for nothing.
What if it already was? It had been centuries. Unless time in the Land Without Magic ran much, much slower than this one, his beautiful Bae might already be dust, believing his father loved power more than him. And Belle had walked out of his life forever after he had rejected her love which she had given to him freely, willingly and unreservedly.
When you have nothing you have nothing to lose.
‘Because, Jefferson… you’re the closet thing I’ve got to a friend. Because this is my fault. And nothing is worth the loss of a child. And not one who still has love for their papa. If I succeed, you will be reunited with your daughter and your misery ends. If I fail, the misery that ends will be mine.’
So Rumple had whisked himself, Jefferson and Grace there by magic. They had appeared at a small shrine. There were candles, helmets, swords, and other trinkets placed around it.
‘What’s this?’ asked Rumple.
‘It’s a shrine to the guardian of the lake,’ explained Jefferson, lowering Grace onto the mossy ground. ‘Every man who faces it leaves an offering here first, asking for the creature’s mercy.’ Jefferson eyed the small stream of water coming out of the statue’s fanged mouth. ‘I don’t suppose that water’s fed from the lake?’
Rumple caught some of the water in his cupped hand and drank it. He shook his head. ‘No. Fate’s not that kind. At least not to me.’ He turned to his friend and business associate. ‘I go the rest of the way alone.’
‘No, this is for me. You have to let me come with you. If there’s a price, I’ll pay it.’
‘No,’ said Rumple firmly. If the Siren impersonated Priscilla, Jefferson was a goner. And Grace would be left fatherless. ‘The only life I want in my hands, is my own. Grace doesn’t need a dead hero. She needs her father. She needs your strength to keep fighting. If fail… if she goes… she needs you with her holding her hand.’
Jefferson nodded, kneeling beside Grace and squeezing her hand. ‘Good luck, then. And don’t forget…’ He gestured at the shrine, reminding him to leave an offering for luck.
‘A lot of good it did them,’ Rumple pointed out, picking up one of the battle helmets, rusty with age, its offeror long dead, and tossed it back with the rest of the useless tribute.
Rumple left without leaving anything at the shrine, picking his way through the trees towards Grace’s salvation.
*
Rumple approached the shore of the lake. He conjured a leather canteen, and went to fill it in the lake. Great ripples spread out from the canteen and a shudder could be heard throughout the lake, alerting the Siren to his presence.
‘Where are you?’ Rumple stowed the canteen of magic water safely out of sight and stood up. ‘Make yourself known to me! Demon!’ He drew his dagger. ‘Show yourself.’
Slowly, a beautiful woman adorned with jewels, rose up from the centre of the lake. She had pale blonde hair and deep brown eyes, the light of the silvery moon enhancing her ethereal beauty.
‘Here I am,’ said the Siren, smiling.
She walked across the surface of the water, approaching Rumple, the jewels of her headdress and bodice glittering with every movement. She certainly was beautiful, Rumple admitted, but this temptress was nothing compared to Belle, who had inner as well as outer beauty. Belle was no man-eater, in any sense of the phrase.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked sweetly.
Rumple didn’t respond. She knew exactly who he was. And she will know who he was if she persisted in her tricks.
‘Would you like to know mine?’
Rumple remained silent. He knew who she was. Legend of Lake Nostos said that a fair washerwoman with blonde hair and a beautiful singing voice was cursed by a jealous queen and forced to live underwater in a spring, which the washerwoman later modified into a lake. Whether she was the original washerwoman or her descendant Rumple neither knew nor cared. Her name was no doubt an on-the-nose name, like Sirena.
The Siren continued, ‘Because I can be anyone you want me to be.’
‘The only thing I want you to be, Dearie, is elsewhere,’ said Rumple.
The Siren chuckled. ‘Don’t be shy. Man or woman, I can give you want your heart wants. What it yearns for.’
‘Stop.’ Rumple pointed his dagger threateningly at her, forcing her to keep her distance. ‘I know what you are. You’re a siren. Your deceitful words are a spell meant to lead me astray and lure me to my death.’
Unperturbed by the wavy dagger, the Siren calmly pushed the blade away. ‘I would never hurt such a brave, powerful man like yourself.’ She lifted a dainty hand and stroked his chest lightly with her fingers, parting his silk shirt to run it down his smooth scaly v-neckline. Goosebumps rose up his arms. ‘Not when there are so many other things we could do.’
Rumple shoved the Siren away, wiping the silly smiling off her face. ‘I said stop! I will not fall prey to your deceptions.’
The Siren regained her composure. ‘Really? You’re immune to me.’
She backed up, preparing for her mating ritual. Some men put up a fight, believed they were indomitable, but she always put them in their place. She loved playing with her food before she ate it. The anticipation was half the pleasure. Her enticing inductions were the best pre-meal treat… watching her prey’s futile struggles to resist her charms, making them weaker and weaker, wearing them down until they finally succumbed. It never failed to amuse her to see the dazed, dopey, blissed out looks on their faces when she’d broken them, sometimes accompanied by a wide, serene yet silly smile. From stoic soldier statue to pining puppy puddle. None could resist her.
‘But every beast has its weakness.’
She would turn the Dark One into the Dear One.
The Siren bent over and cupped a handful of lake water. When she poured it over her face, she transformed before Rumple’s eyes into Milah.
‘Like me more now, Rumple?’ asked Siren-Milah coyly, looking at him as the real Milah had once looked at her husband. Like she loved him. When she loved him. ‘You never forget your first.’
Why were you so miserable?
Because I NEVER loved you!
Far from being entranced, Rumple sneered, revealing his rotten teeth. ‘Oh I like nothing more than to rip out your heart and crush it like Milah’s. As viscously as she crushed mine and Bae’s. Your façades fall flat.’
Siren-Milah eyes flashed maliciously, looking more like the Milah Rumple remembered. ‘But there’s another you regard still…’
The Siren repeated her ablution and turned smoothly into young Cora before she had thrown him over in favour of marrying Prince Henry for fifth in line to be Queen.
‘…who still holds a place in your heart,’ said Siren-Cora. ‘And still holds your heart.’
You told me not to let anything stop me until they’re on their knees. My heart was stopping me.
‘If I regard the Queen of Hearts as anything, it’s as a mistake,’ said Rumple. ‘But I’ll never regret it. She made the decision. She’s got to live with that mistake for the rest of her life. Sloppy seduction technique.’
Put out but undeterred the Siren tried again, though the loud splash as she scooped up more water betrayed her frustration. She should be dragging his subdued body down to the depths by now. But the Dark One hadn’t so much as flinched. And she was hungry. Impressed, but hungry.
This was humiliating. He should be yearning for her, not the other way around. What good was a Siren who couldn’t seduce?
Unfortunately, flustering leads to failure and so affected her performance. The Siren’s next two attempts at alluring Rumple were what he could only describe as glitching. Morphing first into Queen Regina in all her glory, high-haired and face plastered in evil regal makeup – Rumple didn’t bat an eyelid – and then, huffing like the real Regina, Siren-Regina turned into Zelena before she became green with envy. She may not be green, but the sight of Zelena made Rumple feel physically sick.
The Siren really was scraping the barrel in her efforts to inveigle him. His heartbreak for Milah and Cora had been real, but he’d moved on. He’d healed. Well, healed enough to accept that neither of them loved him more than their own selfish interests and, therefore, couldn’t be tricked by their lies spoken from a siren’s lips.
And as for Regina and Zelena? The deadly daughters of the former Miller’s Daughter? The sadist sisters of sin? He wasn’t the sort of lowlife to hump his way up, down, or sideways along someone’s family. But he was certain Hook wasn’t so restricted. He could never pursue a romantic relationship with Regina, who was almost his daughter, which was as far as his feels stretch to the woman had once held in his arms as a wee bairn, currently stretched to its limit after the stunt she’d pulled with Belle. And any affection or attraction on the Evil Queen’s part towards him was misguided and twisted after years of emotional abuse by her heartless mother and for not having a strong father figure growing up. And Zelena? Well, she repulsed him. There was nothing so unattractive as woman who threw herself at him, so desperate for love and validation. She was more than wickedly obsessed with him, she was deranged. She didn’t love him, she wanted to possess him.
This whole thing had been one giant disappointment. He expected more.
‘Your taste in temptation really has gone downhill,’ said Rumple disparagingly. ‘You’ve failed. And you’ve bored me. And the worst part is I’ve never been more turned off in my life. So I’ll accept your water, you accept your defeat and we can set our sights on bigger fish. Because this one’s not biting. Don’t worry, Dearie. At least you’ve still have your looks. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.’
Beauty…
But the Siren had one more weapon in her arsenal. She had saved the best for last and had waited until this moment to show her hand, when Rumple defences were down, when he truly believed he had bested her. She had hoped to weaken his resolve with his past lovers, now she knew she should’ve hit him hard, right in the feels, with great enthusiasm.
‘Who says I’m done fishing?’ said Siren-Zelena, her pale blue eyes gleaming wickedly, scooping up one last cupped handful of lake water. ‘There’s still one pretty face with the power to charm any man. Even the Dark One. Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder? Then you shall behold it…’
Pouring the water over her face once more, she transformed into the true object of Rumplestiltskin’s desires… Belle.
Rumple stared, his mask slipping at last.
‘Rumple… I’ve missed you,’ said Siren-Belle in Belle’s bell-chime voice, smiling. ‘Am I not beautiful?’
Rumple felt a swirling, sinking sensation in his stomach, and he didn’t know if it was fear or if the Siren-Belle’s seductive powers really were starting to affect him even as his heart beat faster with not only fear, but yearning and desire.
‘No.’ Rumple couldn’t move, he was rooted to the spot, the lake water washing beneath his boots, extending the walkway for the Siren, whilst Siren-Belle’s gaze held him spellbound. ‘You’re not really her. It’s an illusion. I know it’s not real.’
But he mustn’t allow himself to succumb. His Belle was gone, he must remember that. He could never settle for a cheap knockoff, even if she had captured the beauty of her blue eyes perfectly. He clung to Regina’s lie, fighting to keep hold of feeling of how he had felt in that moment, like he himself had died, hoping it was counteract the lie before him.
She died… She died… She died…
He tried to remember the hurt and anger in Belle’s tear-filled eyes, how she had called him a coward, not yet knowing how badly Milah and Cora had scarred him romantically or why he needed his power, or how she had walked out leaving him to regret this decision forever.
All you’ll have is an empty heart… and a chipped cup.
Siren-Belle was moving slowly towards him, subtly swaying hips in a way that made her bejewelled, glistening chest sway tantalizingly too. ‘Sometimes, illusions are better than truth.’
Siren-Belle curled against his side when she reached his immobilised form, her hand caressing the side of his face. She encircled him, touching him, whispering in his ear in Belle’s sweet voice, while her magic seeped into his skin.
‘Everything you want that you can’t have, I can give it to you.’
Rumple’s eyes slammed shut at the seductive lure, his chest swelling with the feel of Siren-Belle’s magic coursing through him, the ultimate high. Love and yearning coursed through him, making his head swim.
When was the last time he felt so good? Like he’d come home? What wouldn’t he give to feel like that again?
Siren-Belle smiled at the peace on the Dark One’s scaly face, the need and longing for his Belle so evident. He was losing, sinking fast.
‘Love… Acceptance… Freedom to give in to your darkest impulses… I will never leave you… I will never judge or condemn you… You can have everything… Love and power… All you have to do… is kiss me.’ Standing in front of him again, her hands on his neck, nose to nose, she pulled him closer to her. ‘I know you want to. I can feel it.’
‘No,’ said Rumple weakly.
She was just telling him what he wanted to hear. She was a Cora version of Belle, loving only one side of him, the darkness in him, instead of the man he once was, the good man Belle saw, that Rumple had thought died long ago. But if Belle really loved him, why would she try to change him? The moment she heard the Dark One was a curse, a beast to destroy, she had chosen heroism over love.
Or maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe Belle had delusions that Rumple was a better man then she thought; she was ignorant, naïve and loved only the idealized version of Rumple. She wanted her perfect fairy tale cursed prince she had fantasized about after reading too many novels, which was how she so easily fell for Regina’s flights of fancy on the road. Perhaps it was the mutual fantasy they fell in love with. Rumple had thought she loved him, the good, the bad and the ugly, knowing the dark terribly things he’d done and loved him unconditionally. And Belle wanted the version of Rumple she’d conjured up in her mind instead of the Rumple he was. And when he couldn’t live up to her expectations she threw him away. If she pulled back the layers and found there really was only a beast, she would sacrifice him for the world like the hero she yearned to be.
No one could ever love him.
Oh, to have Belle look at him the way the Siren did, Rumple thought, falling deeper into her eyes and the illusion…
Siren-Belle leaned in; pulling his face unresistingly towards her, using the ace up her long sleeves, knowing no man would ever be able to resist it. She pressed his lips against Rumple’s, claiming them in a passionate kiss, silencing his futile attempts to resist.
The two remained locked in that kiss, until it eventually all became too much for the Spinner. Having been worn down emotionally and mentally by centuries of love and loss, and hopeless longing for the one woman who might’ve loved him had he been brave enough to accept it, the Dark One finally gave into the Siren’s powerful spell.
Rumple’s dagger dropped from his limp hand into the lake sinking faster than its wielder. When they broke apart, Siren-Belle was smiling, believing she’s ensnared another, judging from the rapt, mist-eyed expression on his scaly face.
Both walking on the water, Siren-Belle began to lead Rumple, who came willingly, drawing him out into the middle of the lake, maintaining eye contact.
But Rumple wasn’t so far gone not to notice the un-Belle-like glint in her eyes, nor that he was literally being led by the hand to his death, using Belle’s image as the anaesthetic to numb the pain while she devoured him. And there was something off about the kiss that part of his befuddled brain was struggling to signal to the rest of it. But it was enough to give him a pause.
‘No,’ said Rumple again stopping in his tracks.
Siren-Belle brought up short, not used to her prey fighting back at this stage of the seduction. This has never happened before.
‘I don’t want an illusion,’ said Rumple, his voice sounding more human than his usual impish showman voice. ‘I want reality or nothing.’
The Siren was done with this battle of attrition. She could almost taste the sweet flavour of the Dark One’s submission, but it wasn’t happening fast enough. Rumplestiltskin’s stubborn personality was quite the challenge to take down, something she hadn’t experienced in ages, especially with that Dark One armour. But it was time to end it now.
‘This doesn’t feel real?’ said Siren-Belle breathlessly, swooping in on him again.
She kissed Rumple again, but this time, masked undercover of her moan of ecstasy, she assault his ear by humming a few, long, sensual bars of enchanted siren song, like a lullaby, washing away any last traces of worry about water, worthiness and whether or not the woman of his heart’s desire was really who she claimed to be. Within moments the tension left him as his body relaxed, soothed by Siren-Belle’s magic-laced decibels.
Jefferson had been right: the Dark One wasn’t immune. Or maybe the previous hosts had let their human side die long ago until they couldn’t see the voice of the curse anymore, because they had become the Dark One as Nimue had intended. But because of Bae, Rumple had managed to hang on to his humanity, further rekindled by Belle’s friendship and love, but that meant that he was vulnerable to the weakness of the man when going up against a Siren. The Dark One Curse was strong, but the Siren Song was stronger. And Rumple, so used to being crushed under the malevolent weight of his curse, and of the cruelness of life, was attracted to the pleasant peace out of sheer self-preservation.
In other words, it was the man, not the beast, that fell hardest under Siren-Belle’s spell.
He wanted to succumb. It felt good.
‘Belle…’ Rumple whispered when their lips parted, his pupils dilated, his eyelids hooded, surveying Siren-Belle as though through a soft-focus lens, through which he could only see his brave, beautiful Belle.
Siren-Belle smiled tearfully. It had worked. She’d got him. She had the Dark One enthralled. She felt a deep, primal form of satisfaction seeing Rumple’s resistance finally snap like the straw that broke the camel's back, or in this case the Spinner’s back.
She was careful not to let her nefarious triumph show, adopting a sweet Belle-look of tearful relief that her beloved finally believed she was really here to cover up her own teary relief that she hadn’t lost her touch. ‘Oh, that’s right. It’s me. I came back to you.’
The beginnings of a hopeful smile tugged tentatively at the sides of Rumple mouth as he continued to gaze at his Belle…
Siren-Belle recaptured Rumple’s lips a third time and kissed him and felt him kiss her back and the Siren couldn’t help but feel a little overcome herself by his tenderness, as if his kiss was a sort of semi-entrancing enchantment in itself. Most hot-blooded enchanted men tried to bite her lips off whilst lost in the thralls of her charm and their own sexual desires, or choke her on their whirlpool tongue action as they forced their appendage down her throat like a great slimy python. Rumplestiltskin was nothing like any other man, or Dark One, she had ever met. Even under her spell he treated her as a lady, not a piece of meat. And any tongue mating they would engage in would be like a graceful dance. And new realms of pleasure when applied to other areas of her body. His Belle had no idea what she was missing.
Perhaps she wouldn’t kill this one. May thinks this Rumplestiltskin had the same effect on women as she did on men. Perhaps she should turn him into a siren like herself. Her lake would be a baptism for a new Rumplestiltskin: the Dark Siren. Sireno. She had yet to taste female flesh. Sooner or later women warriors would come to steal her waters thinking they could defeat the guardian of the lake, the killer of men, simply because they were women, and therefore insusceptible. But women could harbour feelings for the fair sex and she was nothing if not adaptable, she could be a female femme fatale. And if not, Rumple would wile women into their waters. And they could form a pincer movement if they swung both ways. Might cause a sensory overload.
Together they would be a dynamic dark duo. They would be no short of ample flesh. And maybe, in time, he would come to love her without magical manipulation. She would certainly help him forget about this Belle. Belle – just thinking the pretentious name made her want to vomit like a fountain into her sacred pool. Overindulgent parents. Thank Gods her moniker was not misplaced.
Carried away in her own seductive con, Siren-Belle broke away briefly, her forehead resting against his and whispered with her eyes closed, ‘I love you.’
Those three words was the wakeup call that reignited Rumple’s synapses, kicking them back into life and the last vestiges of the Siren’s spell was broken.
Rumple frowned against her lips. There was no tenderness in Belle’s kiss. He remembered her sweet lips being soft and feather light, and now it felt like she was smothering him. More than that, he didn’t feel the same light headiness and pleasure he had felt when he had first kissed Belle. And he couldn’t feel the entity that had corrupted him with darkness for centuries loosening its grip on his soul. The scales weren’t peeling back from his lips, spreading outwards across his face, revealing the tanned human skin beneath.
Kiss me again. It’s working.
What is?
Any curse can be broken.
Nothing was happening.
Rumple’s amber eyes snapped open. Belle’s eyes were still closed. He removed his claw from her slender waist and stared at it behind her back. There was no change, no transformation, no True Love’s Kiss. There was no magic, no love in the kiss. There was no love in Belle. Because she wasn’t Belle.
It was working. This means it’s True Love!
True love was unconditional. This meant if Belle truly loved him, if the kiss was working, it was because she loved the man and the beast, equally. He just needed to maintain the balance and not tip the scales the wrong way. What if True Love’s Kiss allowed him to have both? Freedom from the darkness and yet still have the power to protect, to provide, to find his son, to grow old with the woman he loved and who really, really loved him.
Love, happiness, family – he would have everything.
Everything the Siren couldn’t give him, no matter what she said.
If she were really Belle his curse would be breaking. If she was really Belle she would still be hurt by his rejection and his lack of faith in her love for him. And now that faith in it had just saved his life.
This was the lie. This was the trick. This was the deception.
‘No.’ Rumple pulled away again, glaring into faux Belle’s face. ‘No. It’s not you.’
‘Yes, it is!’ Siren-Belle insisted, almost angrily. ‘I love you!’
She tried to tug him back into her kiss of compliance –
‘No!’ Rumple snarled, seizing her by the throat, holding her off, refusing to be sucked back into her siren snog. ‘This is not real love. I’ve felt real love – no, I’ve felt True Love… and I let it slip through my fingers. But I won’t settle for less. And you don’t get to sully the sanctity of what we have. I’ve felt it, and this isn’t it.’
He pushed her roughly away, water splashing under her bare feet as she staggered away.
‘I know the difference,’ he declared.
Despite her anger and growing hunger, Siren-Belle smiled in grim satisfaction, all possible desires for a romantic relationship now dead in the water… as he would soon be. ‘Congratulations, Rumplestiltskin,’ she said, impressed against her will, ‘– you’re the first.’
There was a pause, then –
SPLASH!
The Siren-Belle pounced, pushing Rumple into the water and dragged him under into the depths of the lake towards the bottom, his waterlogged clothes weighing him down. Once they were deep enough she let him go, then made a ‘come hither’ gesture with her finger, trying to tempt him closer to her, humming her Siren Song, the acoustics of the lake bed amplifying it. Rumple shook his head, trying to keep it clear. He looked down and saw several skeletons and bodies of algae covered armour of other fallen warriors at the bottom of the lake, the horrific sight helping him remain alert to the present danger.
Rumple tried to swim away to the surface, but a piece of seaweed snaked up and grabbed at his ankle, tugging him down. Siren-Belle was swimming towards her prey. He spotted his knife resting on the pebbles and colourful stones beside one of the dead heroes. Siren-Belle swam over to him, grabbed his lapels and pulled Rumple into one final kiss, hoping to subdue the beast.
For a moment it seemed to work. Then she jerked, bubbles issuing from her mouth, her eyes springing open as Rumple stabbed her in the gut with the dagger. She stared at him through Belle’s eyes, looking hurt and betrayed for a moment, like she couldn’t believe he would do this to “Belle,” fake or real, before they became the dead-eyed stare of a shark.
Rumple pulled his knife out of her and the dead Siren drifted away, her face transforming back to its original state. Clouds of blood rose up from the wound, her blonde hair billowing like a halo around her.
Rumple untangled his leg from the seaweed and successfully kicked towards to the shimmering moonlight above broke surface of the lake, gulping down the cool night air. He struck out towards land and crawled out onto the sand.
His hand was still gripping his dagger. Opening it, he saw that he had also inadvertently picked up one of stones from the lakebed: a blue moonstone, as blue as Belle’s eyes.
Rumple hurriedly checked himself; making sure still had the canteen of healing waters. He had. ‘Oh, thank gods.’ Relief that he hadn’t lost it during his tussle with that temptress made him hug the canteen to his chest. ‘Jefferson, get ready to celebrate. Hang in there, Grace. I’m coming.’
Before he set off, Rumple waved the dagger over himself to magically dry off. Jefferson didn’t need to know he almost drowned trying to save his daughter. He had got the waters to heal Grace; that was what mattered. And, for good measure, before it got contaminated by the dead Siren’s blood and dried up altogether, he transported a large volume of the waters from Lake Nostos to the Dark Castle, there to be deposited in a newly installed underground reservoir in its grounds beneath a stone wishing well, adding a little whimsical sign on it:
WISHING WELL
For centuries, local legend has claimed that mystical waters run beneath this great land. It is said that these waters possess the power to return that which is lost to its rightful place. If you have lost something precious to you, drink from this well and bear witness to this miracle as what is missing shall be returned.
*
‘“And so they lived happily together for 300 years in the land of Tír Na nÓg, the land of eternal youth and beauty…”’
Jefferson finished the story he had been telling Grace while she slept. He peered through the trees. Rumple had been gone a really long time. But there was still no sign of him. And the only sounds that could be heard where the trees rustling in the wind and the trickle of water coming from the shrine.
He should’ve gone with him. Surely facing a siren was easier with two? A siren couldn’t fight on two fronts to lure two men to their deaths. Not if they had desires for two different women. What if he’d jinxed it by telling him that for all his powers he wasn’t invulnerable?
Approaching footsteps reached his ears. Looking up Jefferson saw Rumple hurrying back to where they were waiting at the shrine, carrying a canteen in his hands. Jefferson laughed. He couldn’t help it. He did it. The cocky bastard actually did it!
‘Water from Lake Nostos,’ Rumple announced triumphantly, offering the canteen of water to Jefferson. ‘I’m a man of my word.’
Jefferson rose to his feet. ‘Remarkable,’ he said disbelievingly, accepting the healing waters. ‘But how did you manage to slay the beast?’
He braced himself for some evasive-Rumplestiltskin-gloating about how amazing he was, that every beast has a weakness and that it helps if you’re beast yourself.
‘Well, the fate of your child was at stake,’ said Rumple, ‘and it was a battle I couldn’t afford to lose. Never again.’
Jefferson didn’t know what to say.
‘Now, go ahead and bring it to her,’ Rumple prompted.
They hurried back to Grace. Jefferson lifted his daughter gently into the crook of his arm and poured the water into her mouth. He poured the rest onto her wound, watching in astonishment as it hissed and frothed as the skin and tissue mended; the wound and the blood stain disappearing before their eyes. The colour returned to his daughter’s face
Grace opened her eyes. She looked confusedly around her, no doubt wondering where she was and how she had ended up here, and then she looked up and saw her father’s deliriously happy face.
‘Papa!’ Grace reached up and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. ‘You saved me! I knew you would.’
Jefferson gripped his daughter in a massive embraced, watched by a forlorn Rumple. Would Bae greet his father this warmly if he ever found him? Probably not. Maybe if he had been able to follow him centuries ago with the magic bean had Hook not have stolen it, after a good telling off from his angry son. No, Bae wouldn’t be up for a tear soaked reunion. He would still be very angry. Rumple could only hope he would give him the chance to make up for his mistakes. He hoped they would both give him a chance as he looked down at the blue moonstone in the palm of his hand.
Jefferson finally pulled away from Grace and look over at Rumple, beckoning him over with his hand. ‘Grace sweetie. This is Rumplestiltskin. He’s a friend. He’s the one who saved you.’
Rumple came over cautiously, crouched down at a respectful distance and offered Grace tentative smile and a tiny wave of his claw. No doubt she would’ve grown up on the stories of the Dark One. All of them bad. Which is why it came as a shock to him when Grace sat up, stretched out her arms and hugged Rumplestiltskin in turn, paralysing him as effectively as when Belle had first hugged him in Sherwood Forest.
‘Thank you,’ Grace whispered.
No one had ever thanked Rumplestiltskin, and meant it. Rumple swallowed, resting both hands tentatively on her small back. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said nervously.
Jefferson extended his hand and Rumple lifted one of his own to shake it.
‘I am forever indebted to you,’ said Jefferson gratefully.
Rumple smiled, gently lifting Grace off him and setting her down in her father’s lap. ‘You can pay me by accepting this,’ he told him, producing a small treasure chest and placing it in the grass between them.
Jefferson opened it and saw that it was overflowing with gold coins. A flicker of pride passed across his face about this gesture of charity, before he pulled out an empty purse bag and took a few handfuls of gold, the value of which would feed them for an entire winter.
‘This’ll be plenty to keep us going,’ he said, tightening the purse strings closing the chest lid. ‘Just until I can find suitable employment. I’ll pay you back.’
‘Open it,’ said Rumple.
Jefferson did so, frowning, and found that the treasure chest had refilled itself with more gold coins.
‘It’ll never empty. You can take as much as you like and there’ll still be some tomorrow. Enough to clear your debts and live comfortably.’
Grace curiously picked up one of the gold coins from the chest and bit it. ‘It’s real gold!’
‘But of course! Did you expect it to be made of chocolate?’
Grace giggled. Jefferson, however, took the coin from her and tossed back onto the pile as if it was cursed Aztec gold.
‘What’s the price? Nothing comes from nothing.’
‘Indeed,’ Rumple agreed. ‘All magic comes with a price. But in your case, that’s me. 25% of the value of every piece of gold I’ll ever spin will be allocated to you and Grace. Call it… bending the rules for a friend. You’ll want for nothing. And you won’t have to accept Regina’s help in exchange for financial security.’
‘Why would Regina want my help?’
‘To sacrifice one father for her own. Some people will stop at nothing to destroy the happiness of others. She’ll just have to find another mad milliner to imprison in Wonderland. Just don’t advertise your little windfall.’
Jefferson was overcome with gratitude again. ‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I promised to pay it forward when I can.’
‘Well, from my eyes… you already have.’
‘Thank you. So much. What will you do now?’
‘Now?’ said Rumple. ‘Now I seek out the other half of my Happy Ending.’
Jefferson grinned widely. ‘Belle. You are going after her.’
‘Who’s Belle?’ asked Grace eagerly. ‘Is she your princess?’ she asked Rumple.
Rumple smiled. ‘She is very dear to me, yes. And more beautiful than any princess, and twice as brave, and with brains to match.’
‘What happened?’
Rumple looked sad. ‘It was my fault. I shut her out. I had her love, and I shut her out. She offered me everything I ever wanted – happiness, love – but I was too afraid to accept it. I let her go. And I’ve regretted it every day since. Love is like a delicate flame. And once it’s gone, it’s gone forever. I just pray it’s not yet extinguished.’
‘What will you say to her?’ said Jefferson.
‘I don’t know.’ Rumple thought, What would Belle do? ‘Do the brave thing… and hope bravery will follow. True Love isn’t easy, but it must be fought for. Because once you find it, it can never be replaced.’
‘How will you know where to find her,’ said Grace.
Rumple smiled and conjured a crystal ball in his hand ‘A little bauble you father once procured for me.’ He held the sphere in both hands and gazed into it, his heart beating fast again. ‘Show me. Show me my Belle.’
The crystal ball swirled and when it cleared it showed Belle walking through the forest, wearing a detailed maroon suede tunic bodice with a belt and yellow under shirt, brown trousers and matching boots, holding a book in hand – her weapon of choice. She looked every inch of a warrior out on an adventure and smiling like someone who had just triumphed in whatever quest they had embarked on and was setting out to pursue another.
At last she reached a road and looked out over the kingdom she had no doubt saved just as she had saved her village.
‘I’m coming back, Rumple,’ said Belle, full of determination, looking out of the crystal ball, as if she knew he was watching her.
‘Well, that’s encouraging,’ said Jefferson. ‘She definitely wants to see you.’
‘She is pretty!’ said Grace happily.
Rumple couldn’t speak. She was returning. She was coming back.
He watched his smiling Belle turn and start walking in the direction of his castle –
‘Isn't that sweet?’ said a familiar mocking regal voice.
Belle turned around and the voice was revealed to be the Evil Queen, Regina, in her royal riding array.
‘Still fighting for True Love. Even to the bitter end.’
‘How did you find me?’ asked Belle suspiciously.
‘You really should be nicer to your travelling companions. Right Claude?’
Belle turned to see the men from the hunting party and the Queen’s black knights, standing beside a wooden cell on wheels. It was empty. But not for long.
‘Take her to the tower,’ ordered Regina.
‘What? No! What are you-what are you doing?’
Rumple watched in horror as one of the black knights grabbed her and dragged her towards a wooden cell, while the Evil Queen looked on from her position on her high horse, smiling, unmoved Belle’s pleas as she struggled, dropping her book in the process.
‘I-I- can save him! Just let me go to him! I-I can break his curse.’
‘You’ve already tried and failed,’ said Regina. ‘That monster's beyond saving. I’m sparing you a lifetime of pain and misery.’
Belle was bundled inside the cage and locked inside. She gripped the bars, glaring at the Evil Queen.
‘You can’t keep us apart forever,’ Belle declared. ‘I’ll fight for him.’
The Evil Queen smirked at her childish optimism and rode off on her horse, Belle shouting after her, refusing to be mocked or ignored.
‘I’ll never stop fighting for him! For us!’
‘Neither will I,’ Rumple vowed, his blood boiling with anger.
He waved his hand over the ball. Belle vanished in a cloud of dark red smoke.
‘Your Majesty!’ called a black knight. ‘The prisoner!’
Rocinante squealed as Regina pulled tightly on the reigns to make him stop. She looked back and saw that the cage was, indeed, empty. The door still locked.
‘What?!’ Regina dismounted at walked back looking angrily for answers.
At that moment Rumple’s disembodied voice boomed over the Evil Queen and her startled entourage in the dark woods. ‘I have become aware that a certain Queen has been spinning lies. I’m the one who does the spinning around here, Dearie. Did you really think I wouldn’t check?’
Regina swallowed. She knew she should’ve abducted his little maid first. ‘Are you going to kill me?’
An ominous silence.
‘Not yet,’ said Rumple’s deadly quiet voice, appearing right behind Regina, making her jump and retreat from him. ‘I’d hate to years of magical training go to waste. The Queen is the most powerful piece on the chess board and that, Queenie, makes you useful. I need you alive… for now. You have so much to do. After that? Well, that depends.’
‘On what?’
‘Whether you can prove you’re more than just a tiresome trainee. While you’re off getting your revenge, you should be working hard finding a way to convince me why I shouldn’t kill you when your usefulness is over. You tried to take away someone I love. And now… I’m going to take away someone you love. In fact,’ Rumple clicked his fingers, ‘I just did.’
The black knight and the hunting party looked confused, uncertain of meaning of the Dark One’s snapping fingers. But Regina knew by the pain in her heart, her internal alarm that would signal if the security of her vault had been breeched.
‘Daniel…’ she gasped. 'How-?'
‘I taught you, Regina. I know your style,’ Rumple reminded her. ‘And your father has already been abducted.’ And the only way Regina was ever going to cast his curse.
Then queen turned to dragon as her clenched gloved hands combusted into flaming fists of fury. ‘Where is he?!’ she raged, advancing on him.
‘Careful, Dearie!’ Rumple warned her, holding out a hand to stop her. ‘Or that saddle buckle for an engagement ring will be all you have left of him.’
Regina hung back, her hands still ablaze.
‘I warned you not to test me. Don’t worry, he will be returned to you when you’ve condemned the worlds and everyone in them to eternal misery. You have my word. Think of what you can accomplish with the right motivation.’
‘Oh, I will,’ Regina promised, extinguishing her hands. ‘But mark my words, Rumple, when I’m through I’m gonna make you wish she had died. I’ll make you wish you were dead.’
Rumple grinned. ‘As I said: motivation.’ Then his face turned deadly serious. ‘But mark my words, Regina. If you come near Belle, or any of my loved ones, ever again, if you use others to try and hurt them, or use any of them to try and get to me, I’ll make what you’ve got planned for Snow White look like child’s play compared to the havoc the Dark One could wrought if he had nothing left to lose. A friendly warning… You don’t want face the Dark One when there’s no one else at home. So I suggest you don’t antagonize me.’
‘Oh, but it doesn’t really matter,’ said Regina dismissively. ‘When I cast my curse, when I get my happy ending, by definition, I’ll be… Guess what? Happy. So I don’t really care what you’ll be up to.’
Rumple sighed, shaking his head again at Regina’s ignorance, too blinded by her own ambitions to see the bigger picture. ‘You always were short sighted, Regina. If only you could see past your quest for revenge, you would see how small you’ve made your life.’
Rumple bent down, picked up Belle’s fallen book, brushed off the dirt from it's cover, and turned to leave.
‘Where’re you going?’ said Regina.
Rumple looked back and smiled. ‘To get my Happy Ending. So should you be.’
Regina sneered evilly. ‘Enjoy your time together. While you can. You’ll be hearing from me, Stiltskin.’
Rumple watched Regina getting back on her horse, amused by the irony of her words. When you saw the future there was irony everywhere. He would be hearing from her again, because he knew precisely when he’d be hearing from her. And not just in this life.
‘Sooner than you think,’ he murmured.
In a cloud of dark pink smoke Rumple vanished, travelling to the crossroads, where the direction of his story would be decided...
