Finishing Touches

by Isaac Heller (Kressel), Kressel

Summary:

Convinced that Belle is dead, Rumpelstiltskin makes final preparations for the casting of the Curse.

Chapter 1: Two Strands of Hair

Rumpelstiltskin was spinning at his wheel when a carrier pigeon tapped on his window. One glance was all his Inner Seer needed to understand who sent it and why.

“Snow White!” he thought excitedly, transporting the bird to his side of the glass.

He’d been expecting to hear from her ever since Regina exiled her, but it took her a long while to get desperate enough to call him. Though she could have Summoned him with his Name, like his more cautious customers, she chose natural means. Hence, the messenger bird bearing a vague, unsigned request to meet.

It was positively adorable that she thought she could hide her identity from him. She was the most wanted woman in the realm, and he was its supreme puppet master. But now Fate had thrown her up against a wall. David, her True Love, was on the verge of marrying someone else.

The cloak-and-dagger intrigue was completely unnecessary, but it was fun to play along. “Meet me at the River Lethe at midnight,” he wrote in response, sketching her a simple though accurate map. He sent the note back with her bird, sped up the Time, and then snapped himself to their point of rendezvous.

He set his arrival for a few minutes before hers. He needed to get himself in the right frame of mind for the magic he was about to cast. A single drop from the Waters of Lethe could erase a person’s deepest and most cherished memories, even of their True Love. The last time he brewed a potion capable of that, it was to make Belle forget him.

When he heard the approach of her rowboat, he conjured one for himself, just to match the scene. The fog was so thick, neither of them had a clear view of the other. As an added precaution, she was keeping her hood over her head and wearing unladylike trousers. She could easily have been mistaken for a man. And because she rowed with such smooth and expert strokes, the disguise was complete. When she reached the dock, she tied her boat down with knots that would make a sailor proud. A princess on the run was bound to pick up some unconventional survival skills.

“How much for this?” he asked, startling her.

She glanced over her shoulder to check if someone was waiting in ambush. Perhaps this stranger’s chit-chat was a ploy to distract her. Survival skills indeed.

“Excuse me?”

“Your boat! Exquisite craftsmanship.”

“It’s not for sale,” she said, looking down and giving her bowline a finishing tug.

“Oh, of course it is, dearie. No one comes to see me without a deal in mind.”

Even in the dark, he could see her face light up with recognition. “So you’re Rumpelstiltskin,” she said, standing up.   

He stood up, too, and bowed ever so slightly. “Indeed I am.” He stepped onto the dock so she could see him better. Let her get a load of him in all his gum-toothed, lizard-skinned glory. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

He grabbed her face with both hands to get the measure of her. It scared her, but she needed him too much to pull back. And only from this angle could he get a full read of the thought flashing through her mind. “Give him a chance. Red said he’s not as dark as he seems.”

The thought came with an image – the werewoman he’d met outside the Cave of the Departed, nicknamed “Red” for the color of her cloak. His one-shot maid had given him a good reference.

“Well, you really are the fairest of them all, aren’t you?” he said, withdrawing his hands. As she gulped back her fear, he switched to a gentler tone. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a cure.”

“What ails you, child?” From gentle to solicitous.

“A broken heart.”

“Ah, the most painful of afflictions.”

She smiled, relieved to be understood. Perhaps she supposed that a monster like him had never felt heartbreak, that he was immune. Little did she know, he had so many bitter memories, he’d need to dive headlong into the river to block them all out.

“Well, I’m afraid if you want me to make him love you, no can do. Nothing can.”

“No, that’s not the problem,” she said, anxious to explain what he already knew. “We can’t be together.”

Actually, Fate determined the very opposite. They couldn’t not be together. But she was in such despair, she was convinced that their temporary separation would last forever.   

“Well, that I can help you with,” he said, removing a midsized vial from his pouch. With a giggle, he bent down to the water and collected some of its amnestic power. It turned cloudy right before her eyes.

“That’ll do it?” she asked incredulously.

“Not yet,” he said, standing back up. “No two loves are exactly alike. We must make this – ” He reached toward her cheek again, but this time, yanked out some hair. “Personal!”

While she was rubbing her temple and nursing her little wound, he dropped a single strand into the vial. Then came the thrilling moment he never tired of. The ingredients blended together and sparkled with magic.

“So if I drink that, I’ll no longer love him?” she asked.

The potion would do much more than that. This was the sloppiest memory erasure he’d ever mixed. No laboring over the hair like he’d done for Belle. No attempt to preserve a coherent life history with a replacement memory. This would be a clean sweep – one that he’d be begged to reverse.

“The next time you see the object of your grief, you won’t even remember who he is.”

“I won’t remember him!” she cried in dismay.

He couldn’t have been more pleased with her reaction. This enchantment was sure to be undone.

“Love is the most powerful magic, so the cure must be. . . extreme.”

“Extreme sounds like an understatement.”

She was absolutely correct. Memory erasures could be so disruptive to a person’s character, they were normally made with the utmost care and only used in a narrow set of circumstances, like witnessing one’s mother get killed by an ogre or falling in love with the Dark One. They were meant to counteract trauma, not heartbreak. That was why the Waters of Lethe did not tempt him. No matter how painful his losses, no matter how crushing his guilt, he would cling to his memories of Belle and Bae like precious treasures. They were his only sources of happiness.

“Don’t doubt yourself now, dearie. Love makes us sick, haunts our dreams, destroys our days. Love,” he concluded contemptuously, “has killed more than any disease. This cure is a gift.”

On the disparagement of Love, she made no argument, but she didn’t for a moment believe that she was about to receive the potion for free. “What’s your price?”

“These’ll do!” he said, holding up the remaining strands of hair.

“What do you need of my hair?” she asked suspiciously.

“What do you need of it now that it’s been plucked from your head?”

She smiled. She had no argument for that, either.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked, holding out the potion.

She took it.  

“I thought so,” he said, placing the hairs into his pouch. “Drink it in good health. . . Snow White.”

Her eyes widened as she realized what she should have known all along. The aura of mystery was a farce. There was no hiding from the Dark One. He turned and walked into the shadows, waving goodbye without looking back. A quiet, yet dramatic, exit.

He snapped himself back to his brewing room, eager to get cracking. He found an empty vial, dropped another strand of her hair into it, and locked it away. “One down and one to go,” he sing-songed.

The buyer’s remorse was sure to kick in soon, though probably from someone other than the buyer herself. Perhaps it would take a day, or perhaps a week, but he had no patience to wait around. So he conjured a new archery set for the bandit princess and magically weaved the rest of her hairs into the bowstring. The charm was similar to the one he’d used for Robin Hood, but with a minor variation. Instead of guaranteeing that the bow would never miss its target, these arrows would land wherever they were most needed.

Now that Rumpelstiltskin had all that he needed, he sped up the Time again. The night sky brightened, and so did his brewing room. More significantly, he was no longer alone. Snow White was there, accompanied by a grumpy dwarf who had come to complain.

“They say you’re a Seer who can tell the future. You must have known that Prince James would call off the wedding. How could you do this? You’re completely irresponsible!”

“On the contrary. I always give my customers exactly what they ask for.”

“And you ruin their lives! That potion you gave Snow changed her. She’s not the same.”

“Well, of course, it changed her,” he replied. “It took away her love and left a big hole in her heart.” He leaned in close to the dwarf and shielded his mouth with his hand as though letting him in on a big secret. “There’s no way to bring back the person she was.”

While that sunk in, he opened the cabinet containing his finest brews – elixirs that could prolong life and hasten death, powders that could cause invisibility or dispel it. “No potion can bring back True Love. It’s the most powerful magic of all.” His eyes fell upon the center of the shelf, conspicuously vacant. “The only magic I haven’t been able to bottle. If you can bottle Love, you can do anything.” He turned back to the dwarf. “But you don’t care about that, do ya?”  

The dwarf didn’t answer, and neither did Snow White, even though she was the subject of this discussion. She was keeping herself busy by examining his lab equipment, but that was only to kill time until the dwarf quit his tiresome griping. She wasn’t some passive child dragged into this visit against her will. She came with her own deal in mind.

“What is it you really want?” he asked her.

“I want your help. . .” she began, sounding as stricken as she did at the River Lethe, “to kill the Queen.”    

The fierce huntress was rising and taking aim!

“Now, we’re talking, dearie.”

He led her to the bow and arrows he’d prepared. Since she already owned a set, she was unimpressed.

“How will this help me get into the palace?”

She was thinking along the right lines. Invisibility powder would suit, but he had no intention of providing her with it.

“No, no, that’s impossible. You’ll have to kill her when she’s on the move. When she’s on her way to the summer palace.”

He conjured a map, far more detailed than the one he’d drawn for their last meeting, and unrolled it. “Fire the arrow from this spot here,” he told her, pointing to the x-mark, “and you’ll be hidden from sight.”

Snow took the map, so he began plugging the enchantments in the bow. “Any arrow fired from this will get you exactly what you need. It always finds its target.”

“I can’t stand by!” protested the dwarf. “If you take that weapon, you do it alone.”

“That was always my plan,” she said, taking it.

Rumpelstiltskin cooed like a carrier pigeon.     

“So what do I have to do in return?” she asked, commencing price negotiations like an old pro.

“Do? You don’t have to do anything, dearie.”

Her eyes narrowed with distrust. “Everything comes with a price with you. Last time, you took a strand of my hair. What’s in it for you this time?”

“Let’s just say,” he said, inching close to her. “I’m invested in your future.”

“In other words, you want Regina killed, too.”

“Oh, yes,” he said, remembering those beady black eyes gloating over Belle’s death. His Dark Side was relishing the thought of Regina suffering.

“So this is what it’s come to,” the dwarf scolded Snow. “You’re doing the Dark One’s bidding.”

“My bidding? Over half the kingdom wants to see the Queen toppled, and it’s only fair that her prime victim does the toppling. I merely supplied the tools.”

The dwarf knew he’d lost the battle, so he walked out in disgust, but actually, he was right. When Snow White ultimately got Justice, it would not come through an act of revenge.

For now, though, revenge was the only thing on her mind. Her blue eyes were glittering like cold, hard diamonds.

“Best of luck on your mission, dearie,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Thank you,” she said with a satisfied smile.

Her Magic Words assured him that her Light side wasn’t far from the surface. Everything was going according to plan.

He listened as her horse galloped away, and she was completely gone, he began counting the seconds for his next Time Shift. The dwarf couldn’t be the only aggrieved party in these transactions. Prince Charming would want words with him, too, and the sooner the better. “One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. . .”

“Rumpelstiltskin!” called an indignant voice from the foyer. “Show yourself!”

He popped right down, and there stood David in full regalia, the handsome hero bursting with zeal to rescue the fair princess.

“Still dressing like a prince, I see. Even though you ran away from the life I gave you. How’s that for gratitude?”

“You gave me a prison sentence.”

“Yeah. One that you’ve now skirted. Careful, dearie, King George is a vengeful man.”

David had more pressing problems than the king’s wrath. “I’m here about Snow. Rumor has it she’s after the Queen, and she came to you for help.”

“Yes, indeed.”

The pseudo-prince drew his sword. He’d gotten quite handy with it since they last saw each other, and he was already a natural then. “What did you do to her?”

“What did I do to her? You mean, what did you do to her? You caused her pain, and without that pain, she would never have drunk my potion to forget about you. That’s what changed her.”

“So undo the potion. All magic can be broken.”

“Oh, yes, with Twoo Wuv.” He batted his eyelashes dreamily.

A more hotheaded man would have skewered him for that, but David had the sense to hear the good news in the taunt. “So that’s it then? True Love’s Kiss will awaken her.” He could handle that himself.

“Most certainly. But it’s gonna be hard to kiss her when you don’t know where she is. Ya ha!”

Knocking the sword aside, Rumpelstiltskin turned his back and waited for the inevitable.

“Name your price.”

He spun right back around. “How about. . .your cloak?”

“My cloak? Why would you want my cloak?”

A matched set if ever there was one. What do you need of my hair? Why should you want my cloak?

“It’s drafty in here.”

It was a dodge, and the skilled swordsman knew it, but he wasn’t about to waste time squabbling over it. He took off the cloak. “Where is she?”

“On her way to the Queen’s highway.”

Rumpelstiltskin conjured a duplicate map to Snow’s. “This is the route she’s taking. But you better be quick. If she kills the Queen, she becomes as evil as the woman whose life she takes.”

“She could never become that evil,” said David, taking the map and turning to leave.

“Evil isn’t born, dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin called after him. “It’s made. If Snow starts down that road, you’ll never get her back.”

But despite the dire warning, he knew that True Love would prevail. He picked up the cloak and held against his face, luxuriating in its soft fur trim. Then he snapped himself up to the brewing room and laid the cloak out on the worktable beside his magnifying glass. He could hardly wait to get started, but since this was to be the noblest, most redemptive magic he ever harnessed, he needed to draw out his Light side first. And unlike Snow White’s, his wasn’t close to the surface. With Belle gone, he had only one remedy at hand, and its results would be minimal. Nevertheless, he levitated her talisman upstairs.

“Please forgive me,” he begged as he caught it. He’d gotten into the habit of talking to it in hopes of reaching her spirit. “I’ve done so much wrong in my life, and I’m about to embark on some more. But you always understood. . . I try to bend Darkness toward Light. Please help me with that now.”

He transported the teapot upstairs, poured himself a cup, and let his salty tears drip into it before drinking. Belle died because of his neglect. It would be the height of audacity to expect to benefit from the cup’s power of absolution without tears shed in regret.  

“I never told you much about the Land without Magic or why I wanted to go there,” he began. “The truth is, it’s Destiny, and not just mine. It’s for all of humanity. Magic is a crutch we’re meant to set aside. As Dark One, I must lead the way.”

He paused and took a good, healthy swallow before going on.

“I once told you that Reul Ghorm set me up for this journey by laying the perfect bait. She didn’t do it just to trap me. She was fulfilling her mission.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Reul Ghorm hovering near his open window. She responded to his Call when she heard her Name. He pretended not to notice and kept talking.

“But even her Light has its shadow - my mother. If magic had to end, she was going to send it out with a bang. The Curse to end all Curses is her invention. If you knew how it gets cast, you’d be appalled.”

The scroll containing those savage instructions was stored in the depths of his vault. Of all the experimental Dark magic he kept down there, that scroll was under the strictest quarantine. But with a wave of his hand, he broke all his own seals and brought it up to the worktable.

The scroll was tied with a black ribbon, his mother’s way of signing her Name to the murderous magic she authored. As he untied and unrolled it, he heard Reul Ghorm groan with disapproval. She’d taken drastic measures to hide it from him, placing it where she assumed he wouldn’t dare to go: in the den of the demonic Chernabog. The dragon-like creature fed on evil and should have devoured him like a succulent steak dinner, but he nabbed the scroll right out from under its fiery nose. Destiny could not be thwarted. His mother wrote that Curse for him. The most powerful forces in the realms couldn’t keep it out of his hands.

The sun was lowering in the sky, coloring the clouds pink. Snow White’s heart was melting. Rumpelstiltskin magicked open the cabinet, and the vial containing her hair floated to the table and touched down next to the cloak. With his magnifying glass in one hand and a pair of tweezers in the other, he searched the sable collar for a strand of David’s hair. Since the fur was a similar shade of brown, finding one wasn’t easy, but after numerous failed attempts, he pulled out a nice, long strand. With Reul Ghorm flitting around behind him, he dropped it into the vial. The two strands wrapped around each other and fused into one. The magic lit up and glowed like the wick of an everlasting candle.

He giggled. He’d done it! He bottled True Love! And since he had a definite plan for its inaugural use, he began to sing.

 

                In distant times, in days of old,

                the Dark One’s son, so brave and bold, 

                fled from this Land and made his home

                in a new place, all alone.

 

                A place where magic has no power,

                and the Dark One’s just a coward.

                He should have gone, too, but he tarried,

                so to that Land, his son was carried.

 

                Reul Ghorm, she blessed that fateful trip,

                despite the Dark One’s tragic slip.

                His magic he was meant to lose,

                a Fate that he flat out refused.  

 

                But when he finally makes that leap,

                the realms will reach their highest peak. 

                A great day for the human race! 

                All spells and hexes will erase!

 

                Yet there is one more twist to come, 

                created by the Dark One's mum.

                She wrote a scroll that casts a Curse

                to bollocks up the Universe.

 

                Just kill the person you love best

                and coast along on your distress.

                For Pain, like Love, can move whole worlds.

                “Oh, no,” said Reul Ghorm, “leave that furled.”

 

                Wise Blue took care to hide the scroll

                and keep it out of Dark control,

                but Destiny cannot be stopped,

                so, I, the Dark One hatched a plot.

 

                The Dark Curse will be cast as written,

                but I am making new additions.

                With pure Light magic, I’ll offset

                the cursed scroll’s evil effects.

 

                A drop of tea spilled from Belle’s cup

                will help opponents to make up.

                And from the vial of True Love’s salve,

                the Curse will gain a safety valve.

 

                The Darkness of the world is mine,

                but with the Light Side I align.

                My mother will not have her way.

                The heroes win, and I’ll see Bae.

 

As he sang, he poured the Light magic onto the scroll – a drizzle of pacifying tea from Belle’s talisman, followed by a generous helping of True Love. The Darkest scroll ever written now bore the mark of the Lightest magic ever bottled. True Love would prevail, even in the Land without Magic. He turned, finally acknowledging Reul Ghorm. “Well?” he asked.

She shook her head resignedly, “I admit it. It’s brilliant. Nobody else could have countermanded the Darkness in that Curse. Your innovations are better than my barriers.”

“That’s my specialty, dearie,” he said, waving his arm over the table and clearing away the cloak. He rolled the Curse scroll up by hand, tying the black ribbon into a neat little bow. It was almost like gift wrapping. Though the black ribbon was his mother’s insignia, Regina would take it as homage to her.

“And now for the fine print,” he announced. He conjured three fresh sheets of parchment, along with his quill and a bottle of Apprentice’s Ink.

“What are you doing?”

“Customizing the Curse for Queen Regina, of course. It’s her Destiny, too. And Henry’s.”

“Ohhh, poor Henry,” moaned Reul Ghorm. “He prays so hard for Regina. He’s often said he’d give anything to see her change her ways. But to give up his own life!”

“It’s a perverse sacrifice for a father to have to make,” agreed Rumpelstiltskin. “But he sealed his own Fate by failing to protect her when she was young and vulnerable. He didn’t stand up against the Darkness, and now it’s coming for him.”

Reul Ghorm gave him one of her stern looks, her wings furiously beating the air. “I shouldn’t need to remind the Agent of Justice that all magic comes with a price.”

The high of his achievement instantly evaporated. “I pay the price every second of my miserable existence,” he snarled. "I’ve as good as killed the one I loved. The only reason I didn’t chuck myself off that cliff was that you promised I’d see Bae again."

“Redemption is possible for –”

“Yeah, I know, I know. I get one last chance to try and make amends. But I’ll probably blow it, and after that, the Lord Judge will have no more use for me. I fully expect to meet my end in the New Land. As an unmagical mortal, I’ll be easy prey for my old enemies. They’ll all be cursed, so they won’t remember anything, but Justice might send one of them crashing into me in a fatal accident. More likely, it’ll be Regina herself, avenging her father. It's inescapable. Henry will be my undoing.”

The harsh prophecy he’d just decreed against himself allowed Blue to return to her traditional role. “And if Bae forgives you?”

He took a sip from Belle’s talisman and contemplated that beautiful dream. If only Bae could recognize his old Papa the way Belle saw his hidden Light! But without her around to bring it out of him, he had almost no hope. Somehow, he was going to have to persuade Bae that his Love for him was as true as the magic he’d just bottled.

“Even if I am so fortunate,” he replied to Reul Ghorm, “Justice must be done. But here's the difference. With Bae’s forgiveness, I can finally die at peace.”

Chapter 2: Sweet Revenge

Regina sat in her private chamber in the summer palace, enjoying her solitude for once. It had been a very satisfying day. Prince James, the self-proclaimed True Love of Snow White, had been captured. His execution was set for a few days’ time. No doubt King George would give him one last chance to recant and marry Princess Abigail, but even if he chose to save his own life, he’d still break Snow’s heart. For Regina, it was a delicious win-win!

“Congratulations, dearie,” came Rumpelstiltskin’s voice as he appeared unexpectedly in her mirror. “I hear things are finally going your way.”

He looked and sounded like he was back to his old mischievous self, as though the voices of doom from Belle’s cell were no longer screaming in his head. That was a problem, but she echoed his carefree tone. “You seem much cheerier than when I last saw you. I thought you were furious at me.”

“Oh, that I am, dearie, but I haven’t been training you for all these years to let events like today’s go to waste.” From his side of the mirror, he showed her a wide scroll, rolled and tied up with a strap of red leather. “There are three more inside. Want a peek?”

She knew of only one spell that was so complicated it would take up four whole scrolls. “The Curse!” she gasped.

“Think you’re ready for it? ‘Coz the time is ripe.”

Without invitation, he popped into her room. He held out the roll of parchment with such fanfare, he might as well have gotten down on one knee like a royal messenger from another kingdom. “You’ll want to read those carefully,” he told her, conjuring himself a soft, wide chair. “I’ll wait.”

He sat down and made himself comfortable, which made her distinctly uncomfortable. Though he wasn’t close enough to read over her shoulder, her concentration was shot to hell. She couldn’t even unknot the red strap around the scroll. He had to magic it open for her.

“I guess I tied it too tight,” he apologized. “But magic this powerful needs extra protection.”

She unrolled the scroll and spread it across her vanity table. It showed a map of Storybrooke. Curious as she was to study it, she knew the most important information would be in the writing, so she began opening the second scroll, which was tied with the same red leather. This time, she magicked it open herself, hoping he didn’t notice how much effort it took. That leather was tough! But once she unrolled the parchment, she was richly rewarded. At the top was the heading “Town Registry,” and beneath it was some of Rumple’s own handwritten scribblings. Mostly, though, it was blank.

“You will use Apprentice’s Ink when you fill that in,” he said, conjuring a bottle for her.

She nodded and went for the next scroll. Unlike the other two, it was tied with gold string, probably spun from his wheel. She slipped it off effortlessly and unrolled the parchment. From top to bottom, it was covered in his handwriting.

That left one last scroll, smaller than the other three and tied with a black ribbon. If the gold string was Rumple’s unique symbol, the black ribbon had to be a nod to her. Eagerly, she began to unloosen it, but Rumple immediately jumped on her back. “Rush, rush, rush. You’re always getting ahead of yourself. You can’t skip to the casting instructions before you’ve put in the prep work.” He gestured back to the scroll covered in his writing.

She felt like pointing out that he’d just claimed the time was ripe, but it was best not to argue with him when he was in a sharing mood. And if fawning over his spell-writing was the price she had to pay, it was worth it.

But when she read the scroll, the fawning came naturally. She was genuinely in awe. It described the banishment to the New Land exactly as promised, complete with the mass amnesia and the upheaval of relationships. As Caster of the Curse, she would be mayor of the town while still retaining her memories of Fairy Land. Everyone else would be consigned to false identities at random. But if she wanted to customize a specific life circumstance for anyone, she could write it onto the Town Registry. The Map would update itself accordingly.

She looked back at the Registry to see what arrangement Rumple made for himself.

Rumpelstiltskin shall be known as Mr. Gold and shall own a shop on Storybrooke’s main thoroughfare, a block away from the town library.

She checked the Map, and there on Main Street were Mr. Gold’s antiquities shop and a library marked “Closed.” Magic didn’t work in that Land, but he obviously intended to bring his spell books and collection of treasures with him.

She continued studying the Map, taking note of the mayor’s office and residence. There was a hospital, schools, a police station, residential neighborhoods, farmland. . . and up on a hill near the forest, a convent. She looked back to the Registry.

Reul Ghorm shall be known as Mother Superior and preside over an order of nuns.

“You’re keeping the fairies?” Regina exclaimed.

“We have to make some provision for them, especially if core character traits survive the Curse. It’s unrealistic to expect a perfect transfer. But since religion is on the wane in that Land, this isolates them. Let ‘em keep their pathetic piety to themselves.”

“Hmmm, good thinking,” said Regina, looking at the text of the Curse once again. She read a little more and looked up. “What’s this about twenty-eight years? There’s not supposed to be a time limit!”

“No, no, you misunderstand. That’s seven days of the week times four seasons of the year. Those two cycles will repeat themselves perennially, but the years will stand still.”

“Ohhh,” she said. “Excellent.”

“Delighted you approve, Madam Mayor. And now I will leave you to the business of town planning. Staffing the hospital, the police force, the schools. But the Registry requires correct Names, so I’ll let you in on an open secret of King George’s court. Snow White’s True Love isn’t really a prince. He was born and raised in a simple farm family. His Name is David, not James.”

Regina’s eyes widened at this information. It sounded like one of Rumple’s deals. “Does Snow realize she’s in love with a peasant?”

He shrugged. “How should I know? Unlike you, I’m not invested in spying on their private conversations. I just thought you might appreciate the tip, Your Majesty.”

He stood up, gave an exaggerated bow, and disappeared.

Glad to be rid of him, Regina conjured a cloth to cover her mirror. She could hardly wait to begin designing Snow White’s unmagical life. She’d let the Curse assign any humdrum job to her. Regina didn’t care what. But if the punishment was to fit the crime, Snow’s love life had to be dead as the dinosaurs. Making her a nun in the convent was out because she wasn’t a fairy, but her romantic opportunities had to be just as nonexistent. As a modern woman of the twenty-first century, she’d feel the lack.

With that inspiration, Regina thought of the most nun-like name she could come up with, conjured up a quill, dipped it in the Ink, and began to write.

Snow White shall be known as Mary Margaret. She will be unmarried and lonely. Barely noticed by men, she will seldom go out on dates, and whenever she does, they will be embarrassingly awkward if not outright disasters.

Satisfied with her description, she considered Snow’s True Love and his impending marriage. King George might not be able to enforce it, but the Curse would set it in stone.

The commoner David, falsely known as Prince James, will be married to Princess Abigail, daughter of King Midas.

She made no more specification than that. Happy or headed for divorce, kids or no kids –she’d let the Curse sort that out. She didn’t even bother giving them names. But it was another win-win. If Snow’s feelings for her “prince” seeped through in the Curse, the mere sight of him would give her pain, and she wouldn’t remember why.

Rumple was right about this Curse. Wrecking someone’s happiness was sweeter revenge than simply killing them. The longer she prolonged the pain, the more she could savor it. And Snow wouldn’t be the only one to suffer from chance encounters with neighbors.

King Maurice shall own a shop across the street from Mr. Gold’s.

She checked the Map, and the spot was already marked as “Moe’s florist shop.” Leaning back in her chair, she chuckled at the beauty of it. As author of the Curse, Rumple might be as immune to the memory loss as she. But seeing Maurice day after day would gall him to the point of violence. He’d get himself locked up, which is exactly what the Chamberlens were gunning for. He’d be a jailbird, just like his beloved little smarty pants in the tower. 

Thanks to the Chamberlens’ advice, Book Magic was already setting the stage for her future. They recommended Cuckoo’s Nest for the main backdrop and suggested The Yellow Wallpaper next. It was a Victorian tale of “curing” a woman of her intellect, and when Regina brought it to Belle’s cell, she discovered Brunhilde there – as a mortal, not a broom. The Chamberlens were thrilled! They practically worshipped her. And now that Regina had control of the Registry, she could make their wishes permanent.

Princess Belle shall be a patient in the mental ward of Storybrooke General Hospital. Its head nurse shall be Brunhilde the Valkyrie, to be known as Nurse Ratched. The chief psychiatrist shall be Doctor Arthur Lydgate of the Victorian realm.

Regina had never met the man, but the Chamberlens wanted him, and she owed them for their help. They were sending him to Fairy Land with their magic, and then he'd be swept up in her Curse with everyone else. That would be her M.O. to acquire the only doctor whose work legitimately interested her. He’d be coming at her personal invitation with a portal previously bought from Jefferson.

Doctor Viktor Frankenstein will be a high-ranking doctor at Storybrooke General Hospital and will run a successful private practice in town.

On a whim, she added: He will be one of Mary Margaret’s most disastrous dates.

As much fun as she was having with all this planning, she decided to take a break and look at the final, unread scroll. Rumple’s warnings aside, she ought to know what steps she’d have to perform to cast the Curse. What was the big deal? So after assigning the huntsman as Town Sheriff and the genie to be her propogandist at the local newspaper, she untied the black ribbon and read the scroll.

“Rumple, you lying, cheating, back-stabbing beast!” she shouted as she yanked the cloth off her mirror. She knew he heard, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He was probably sitting beside his own mirror, laughing till his sides ached. The conciliatory attitude was an act, just like the pretense that giving her the Curse was some sort of privilege, an acknowledgement that she’d finally surpassed him as master. To cast the Curse, she would have to kill whoever she loved most.

Did he always intend this or was it some new addition to punish her for gloating about Belle’s “death?” It almost made her want to reunite them and force him to cast the Curse instead of her, except she’d be the first one killed in that scenario.

“I won’t do it,” she told herself. “I can’t.”

Daniel was gone, so that left only one other person. And no matter how many times he said he’d willingly lay down his life to see her happy, she was not going to kill her own father. Better to just kill Snow.

An alternate plan began taking shape in her mind. She realized her assessment of the win-win was wrong. She needed that David or James or whatever his name was alive. Like Belle, he was valuable bait. She’d buy him from King George, use him to lure in Snow, and then poison her with the everlasting nightmares of Maleficent’s Sleeping Curse. True Love’s Kiss would have no chance to break it. Like Belle, the “prince” would be kept under lock and key.

The new plan tickled her just as much as writing the loveless travails of Mary Margaret. Not only was she going to crush Snow, she’d double-deal Rumple. She’d do exactly what he was doing – secure what she wanted on the Town Registry and get someone else to do the dirty work of casting the Curse. 

That meant she had to make one last adjustment. The Caster of the Curse would become the mayor, but she could still hang onto the benefits of the position.

No matter who casts the Curse, Queen Regina’s memory will always remain intact. She shall be known as Regina Mills and shall serve on every Town Board in Storybrooke. She will weigh in on all decisions, big and small.

As she put down her quill, she supposed she might end up with the mayor’s position by default. She’d done so much research into the operation of that Land, she was the most qualified for the job.

She re-rolled the scrolls and tied them up again but kept the casting instructions separate. She whisked the other three into a safe. Now she was ready.

“Maleficent!” she called into her mirror. 

The image of her one and only friend appeared right away. “I thought I’d be hearing from you tonight.”

Regina grinned and conjured up a bottle of wine and two glasses. “I’m in the summer palace,” she said. “Come help me celebrate.”

Maleficent snapped herself right over. As soon as she settled into the chair Rumple left behind, Regina levitated the cover back onto the mirror. She couldn’t let him hear a word of what was about to transpire.

Raising a glass of wine, she said, “I’d like to propose. . . a trade.”

Maleficent jutted out her chin. The Sleeping Curse was her signature spell. She didn’t need to guess what Regina was bargaining for. “You’d better have something good in exchange.”

“Oh, I do. A Curse so Dark, even Rumple thinks it’s too hot to handle. It’ll banish the entire realm to a Land Without Magic.” She indicated the neatly tied up roll on the vanity table.

“So <em>that’s</em> what that does,” said Maleficent.

“You mean, you’ve seen that scroll before?”

“Not only have I seen it, the coven and I helped steal it. We got it past the Chernabog for the lousy ingrate, and then he up and left us behind! I had to morph into my dragon form and fly us all away.”

Regina was flabbergasted. The Chernabog was said to be one of the oldest monsters alive. If it was guarding the scroll, then Rumple misled her. He didn’t write the Curse. He took it from some ancient source and added the Map and Registry. “Do you know who the Chernabog was guarding this scroll for?” she asked.

Maleficent sniffed. “What a typically human thing to say! The Chernabog isn’t some guard dog that serves a wizard master. It has independent intelligence. It’s perfectly capable of writing its own spells.”

Regina doubted that but didn’t press the point. She supposed it didn’t really matter who originally authored the Curse. She just wanted to keep control without being the sucker to cast it. “Look, do we have a deal or not?”

“Hell, yes!” said Maleficent, conjuring her own scroll and making the swap. “The Dark One nearly got me killed for this. I’m gonna use it to make him pay!” 

She sniggered wickedly, and Regina joined her. They clinked glasses and kicked back with their drinks. Privately, Regina didn’t think Maleficent stood a chance against Rumple, but her own plans were firm in her mind. She was sure the fake prince would try to pull a Romeo move and die while declaring his love for Snow White. She’d steal his thunder at the very last minute.  

And so, a few days later, she showed up in King George’s courtyard for the trial. With a pinch of invisibility powder, she was able to hide herself among the guards and officers. She watched them walk the disgraced prince to the guillotine.

“Release the blade!” ordered the king, but just when it was about to chop the prince's head off, she turned it into a sheet of water. It burst on top of him with a big splash.  

“Sorry to drop in on you,” she said, revealing herself to the puzzled crowd.

“Regina,” said the king, standing up from his throne and walking toward her. “What do you want?”

Not the politest of greetings, but he’d change his tune when he heard what she was offering. “I want the man you pretend is your son, and I’m prepared to pay any riches Midas promised you in exchange for him.”

King George lifted an eyebrow. “What do you plan to do with him?”

“Oh, I promise, he’ll suffer. Far more than some swift and simple beheading.”

“How?”

“By using him to destroy his one True Love. By using him to bring an end to Snow White.”

King George’s eyes glinted. Treasure came first with him, but revenge was second, and as long as Regina was delivering both, he grabbed at her offer with both hands.

They withdrew to his treasure room to settle up accounts. After he was grinning like an overfed cat, she began talking tactics. “You do realize that the news of our deal is going to spread like wildfire. It’ll stir up rebels from both our kingdoms. They’re going to team up like they never have before.”

“So what do you propose?”

“I’m going to make a covert exit. I’ll go as invisibly as I came. I’ll take the prisoner, too, as per our deal. But I’m leaving my entourage behind.”

King George nodded. “Throwing the rebels off your trail. They’ll assume you’ve stayed on as my honored guest. But that means they’ll attack my palace first.”

“Aren’t your men ready for it?”

If not for the treasure now filling his coffers, King George would have given her an earful.

“Then let’s go down to the prisoner,” she said. “Alone.”

They were escorted down to the dungeon and left the guards at the outer door. Regina was pleased to note that the cell was no different than any other – a dark and dirty cave locked with iron bars. It was exactly what any wannabe rescuer would expect to see. She’d use that to her advantage. Just as she’d designed Belle’s cell to torment Rumple with auditory illusions, this one would taunt Snow visually.

She swung her arms up into a crisscross and cast a two-way transport spell. She sent the prisoner to a high-security cell in her own dungeon, and in his place, brought back one of her many enchanted mirrors.

“What? Where am I?” said the prisoner’s reflection.

King George stared at the mirror. “It’s like he’s right here!”

“That’s the idea,” said Regina. “This mirror is linked to one hanging in his real cell. You can track his every move.”

“NOOOO!” yelled the prisoner.

“Except when you don’t want to.” She conjured a cloth over the mirror. “There now. Total privacy.” She paused to bask in the silence for a second and then went back to business. “The fewer people who know about this, the better,” she told George. “Your men outside will defend the palace, but you’re going to need one trusted guard to watch this mirror. He can’t tell anyone where the prince really is, and when Snow arrives to rescue him, he shouldn’t put up too hard a fight. I’ll take over after that.”

“I’m glad we’re allies, Regina,” said George, shaking her hand.

“Between my magic and your army, we can accomplish a lot,” she replied, snapping herself to David’s cell.

He was ruder than King George when she appeared. “What do you want?” he asked.

“To assess your weaknesses,” she thought to herself, looking him up and down. He had a fighter’s build and a face like a Greek god. A genuine beefcake.

“Hmmm,” she said, reaching out to stroke his chest. “I suppose I see the allure.”

He pushed her hand away.

She simpered, unfazed by the rejection. “I wonder if you’ll be quite so incorruptible after your precious Snow is gone.”

“Whatever she did to you, leave her alone and take my life instead,” said the gallant hero.

“Now who said anything about taking her life? Oh no, I have a far more satisfying brand of punishment for her.”

She laughed, turned her back, and after magicking the door locked, she pulled a blood-red apple out of her pouch. It didn’t look like much of a weapon, but the threat was clear. Farmer Boy might not understand curses, but he’d correctly deduce that anything edible could be dosed with slow-release poison.

Holding the apple over her shoulder, she twisted it from side to side as she walked away. Each turn of her wrist exploited the link between the two lovebirds. Substituting an apple for a spindle wouldn’t be her only innovation to Maleficent’s Curse. The longer David stared at the apple – and she could sense his gaping eyes on her back – the more he’d feel Snow’s last moments of consciousness.

The rebels launched their attack that night. Even the fairies joined in, casting their spells from above. They made such a commotion, the explosions were audible from Regina’s chambers. Ah, the wasted effort! It was a good warm-up act for the main event. She had her eye on her hand mirror, waiting for it.

“Charming!” her quarry soon cried, ecstatically jangling the keys to the barred door.

“Snow.”

Regina could hear the ache in his voice. Snow completely missed it. She was too intent on releasing him. But as soon as she got the bars unlocked and stepped close, she realized what she was facing. A mere mirror image.

“No! Oh, no, no!” she wailed.

“The queen took me to her palace,” said David matter-of-factly.

The little brat burst into tears. “But I’m rescuing you!” she whined.

Regina covered her mouth to silence her laughter as Snow and her Prince Charming stared at each other through tear-filled eyes.

“Snow,” he whispered, putting his palm against the mirror. She put hers up in the same spot, but she’d get no comfort from his warm skin. Only cool, smooth glass.

Regina conjured a cloth over his mirror and watched Snow’s confusion as his image went dark. Then she picked up her hand mirror and took over the conversation.

“I just had to stop you,” she laughed. “I have no interest in cleaning tongue marks off my mirror.”

“Let him go!” cried Snow. “Your fight is with me!”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Regina. “Have you ever heard of a parley? We break off all this messy fighting and have a little talk. Just you and me. Come unarmed.”

“Where do I meet you?” asked the precious princess, her fair blue eyes still full of tears.

“Where it all began.”

No further explanation was necessary. Snow knew precisely where to find her the next day: in the stable on her parents’ old property. She and Daniel fell in love there. It was the site of their happiest memories, until they were blackened by his murder.

“Hello, Regina,” came Snow’s voice. She stood with her hands spread open, showing she’d come unarmed, as instructed.

“Follow me,” Regina commanded.

She led her across the field. “Do you remember when I ran down your runaway horse, Snow?” she asked. “Do you remember when I saved your life?”

“Of course,” said Snow, looking around. “It all looks the same.”

“Not quite,” said Regina, stopping at the tombstone. “This is new.”

There were no engraved letters on it. Nothing to indicate who lay below, other than a carved, pink heart.

Snow was almost afraid to ask. “Is that –?”

“A grave,” answered Regina. Her voice cracked as she added, “Daniel’s grave.”

Snow looked confused. “But I thought –”

“That he ran away? I told you that to spare your feelings. Out of. . .” She paused in disgust, remembering their former friendship. “. . .kindness. But he died because of you.”

She watched as Snow grappled with her complicity. She faltered for words, as if anything she might say could actually give comfort instead of twisting in the knife. “I’m. . . I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” snarled Regina. “But nothing can change what happened. What you did. You promised to keep my secret. You promised, but you lied.”

Snow launched into her lame excuses. “I was very young, and your mother –”

“She ripped his heart out!” shouted Regina. “Because of you! Because you couldn’t listen to me!”

“You took my father,” said Snow, correctly accusing her of one of her most untraceable crimes. “Haven’t we both suffered enough?”

“No!”

She pulled the apple out of her pouch. Snow eyed it warily. “What is that?”

“Just a morsel,” answered Regina, holding it up. “Did you know that apples stand for health and wisdom?”

“So why do I get the feeling this one will kill me?”

“It won’t kill you. No, what it does is far worse.” She inched it closer to Snow. “Your body will be your tomb, and you’ll be in there with nothing but dreams formed of your own regrets.”

“And you’re going to force me to eat it.”

“Of course not,” she chuckled. “It must be taken willingly.”

“And why would I ever do that?”

“Because if you refuse, your prince – your Charming – will be killed.”

“No,” said Snow, the tears welling.

“As I said, the choice is yours.”

“I take that apple, and he lives. That’s the deal you want to make?”

Was the Fairest in the Land expecting a better one?

“With all my heart,” said Regina.

Snow took the apple. “Then, congratulations. You’ve won.”

As she took a bite, Regina opened her own mouth, as though vicariously tasting the sweetness. With every chew, Snow’s face grew sicker. Her body heaved and convulsed as she struggled for breath. Finally, after one last desperate gasp, she collapsed onto the ground.

Regina stood over her lifeless body in triumph. As the breeze whipped through her hair and skirts, she wondered if Snow would feel the extra chill, her mind warping every outside stimulus into nightmarish form.

“I could kick you while you’re down,” she said, aiming the tip of her high-heeled shoe at Snow’s ribcage, “but I have a better idea.”

She took a compact mirror out of her pouch and checked in on Charming’s cell.

“What have you done?!!!” he yelled.

Snow flinched at the sound of his voice.

“Awww, still out of reach,” said Regina. “So close, yet so far.”

She levitated the mirror over Sleeping Snitch-Bitch so she could monitor the spot from the comfort of home. Charming, meanwhile, was still yelling his head off.

“Sleep tight, Snow White,” she said before snapping herself away. “I hope all the bedbugs bite.”

Chapter 3: Deals with a Dragon Slayer

As a general rule, Rumpelstiltskin avoided the use of the Mirror network. The risk of detection was way too high. But Regina depended on it like an addict, so if he was going to keep tabs on her, he had to break his own rules. Now that he’d given her the Curse, monitoring her was his top priority.

Her first call – after she got through yelling at him – was to Maleficent. A simple invitation to come over and celebrate, but she shrewdly covered her mirror the instant her guest arrived. No problem for Rumpelstiltskin. He didn’t need to hear their full conversation to be able to fill in the blanks. Slowly but surely, the clues were bound to trickle in.

Her next move was so predictable, no mirrors were necessary. She went to King George’s palace to witness David’s show trial. Rumpelstiltskin also attended, and like her, he went under the cover of an invisibility spell, but unlike her, he didn’t break his. So when she struck the deal with George to take David into her own custody, he was standing by listening. All his prep work in bankrupting King George was paying off. George couldn’t afford to say no to an offer of treasure.

Naturally, revenge was also part of their deal. Regina hung a mirror in David’s cell and gave another one to George so he could view his suffering, Her addiction to mirrors was making the task of surveillance much easier. Rumpelstiltskin could watch all three of them from the comforts of home.

Regina lost no time in bullying her new prisoner, but only when she brandished that apple and hinted at how she planned to poison it did Rumpelstiltskin realize that his well-laid plans were going off the rails. So that was why she called Maleficent. She traded his irreplaceable scroll for Maleficent’s paltry Sleeping Curse!

“A mere setback,” he told himself. Even the next day, when she floated yet another mirror over the unconscious Snow White, he didn't lose confidence. Regina might think she won, but he’d make sure it didn’t last. True Love’s Kiss could undo her little tricks. And so, he shifted his focus away from her and onto David.

Watching a man in prison was dull business, probably almost as bad as actually being one. David spent his time hacking at the lock on his cell – to no avail. He sank down to the ground in despair, and just when it seemed he’d reached his lowest point, the guards came for him. “Get up!” they demanded. “The Queen is looking forward to your execution!”

Rumpelstiltskin smiled. David’s escape was guaranteed now. “Oh, Regina, don’t you ever learn?” he murmured. “You promised Snow that he would live, and breaking a deal always backfires.”

Gleefully, he began preparing himself for a face-to-face meeting with David. First, he levitated over the fur cloak he’d acquired in their last deal and draped it around his shoulders. It would be such fun to show up wearing it! But the truly crucial item was the vial of True Love, so he gave the cloak the power of endless storage, levitated the vial out of his cabinet, and let it nestle itself inside. Now properly outfitted, he switched to a view of Regina’s mirror. Before long, he was watching her watching David as he sprinted through the woods near her palace. With a sword tied to one side of his belt and a pouch on the other, it was clear that the disloyal guard who helped him escape also made sure to provide for him.

“To the Infinite Forest!” shouted Rumpelstiltskin, transporting himself to that maze of unending greenery in a snap.

He landed in a clearing where several logs were lying in a square formation, no doubt the ritual site for a coven of wood nymphs. Seating himself cross-legged on the mossiest one, he concentrated on David. The magic of the forest responded by creating a portal that pulled him away from Regina’s grounds and into his presence. David must have felt the change because he looked around in confusion, but he didn’t take the slightest notice of Rumpelstiltskin.

“Lost, are we?” he called out to the fugitive.  

David jumped at the sound of his voice and turned around. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m just here to help,” Rumpelstiltskin replied politely.

“Well, no need. I’ll be fine,” said David, taking another step in the opposite direction.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Rumpelstiltskin, turning David’s head once more. “This is the Infinite Forest. There’s no way out. Well, except. . . my way.”

Like a humble servant, he put his hand to his chest.

“I want nothing from you,” said the stubborn prince.

“But I want something from you,” thought Rumpelstiltskin, snapping to freeze the Time.

As the only mortal creature in the Infinite Forest, David stopped short while everything else around him continued buzzing. The birds kept singing, and the breeze kept blowing, but David stood as rooted to his spot as the trees behind him. Meanwhile, magic, which transcended Time, was emanating from his pouch. Rumpelstiltskin was sure it was coming from the ring his mother gifted him, the one blessed by Citrina the Yellow Fairy, godmother of noble-minded peasants.

“Come to Papa,” said Rumpelstiltskin, levitating the ring out of the pouch and pulling it toward himself.

The ring was as exquisite as he remembered, with little golden flecks of fairy blessing glinting inside the light green gem. It already recognized and followed after True Love. Now, it would get an extra boost from the magic its owner helped to create. Rumpelstiltskin took out his priceless vial, poured a drop onto the gem, and let the enchantment do its thing.

“Now, where were we?” he mumbled to himself as he placed the vial back inside the cloak. He couldn’t unfreeze the Time until he remembered exactly what David last said. “Oh, yes,” he recalled. “He wants nothing from me.”

Rumpelstiltskin snapped David back to life. “Not even this?” he asked, showing him the ring.

“My mother’s ring!” exclaimed David. “It was just. . .” He searched his pouch. “How did you get it?”

“The same way I get everything I want,” said Rumpelstiltskin, hopping off the log. “Magic.”

He walked toward David, who put his hand on his sword.

“The same magic that allows me do this,” he continued, tossing the ring into the air and catching it in his palm. The potion fully absorbed, the simple peridot was sparkling like an emerald. “This ring is now enchanted. The closer you get to Snow White, the brighter it will glow.”

David stared at it, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“Interested?” he teased, enclosing it in his fist.

“Give it to me!” David demanded.

“It’s not something for nothing, dearie,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “Time to make a deal.”

“No! No more deals!” shouted David, drawing his sword. He took a swing with it, and Rumpelstiltskin vanished.

“Over here!” he called, reappearing behind David’s back and wielding his own conjured sword.

They battled it out for a few tense minutes, with twists and turns and lunges and parries. Rumpelstiltskin was enjoying the exercise.

“Had enough?” he asked when each had the other in a stronghold.

“Never,” answered David, taking a swing with his sword. It sliced right through Rumpelstiltskin’s cheek.

“Hmmm-hmmm,” he whimpered, passing his hand over the wound to heal it. He’d better end this duel fast or someone might really get hurt. So he levitated David ten feet upward, grabbed his weapon, and then turned it on him when he landed. “Looking for this?” he asked.

He never saw David looking so defeated.

“So brave,” he remarked to his worthy opponent. “So gallant.” He paused and changed his tone. “And so pointless. Bravery won’t get you out of this forest, dearie. Magic will. Trust me. This is a deal you want to make.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because we both want the same thing.”

“What’s that?” said David, still full of distrust.

“Why, you and your True Love to be together, of course!”

He showed him the glowing ring again, which he was now wearing around the tip of his index finger. But instead of letting him take it, he clenched his fingers back and balled the ring up in his fist.  

“Fine. What do you want?” asked David, standing up.

Rumpelstiltskin put his hand inside the cloak and switched the ring for the vial. “Behold!” he exclaimed, lifting the glittering potion. “The most powerful magic of all. True Love.”

David reached for it, but he pulled it back.

“Careful. This is all I have left of it.”

David scoffed. He didn’t know much about magic, but it didn’t make sense to him that the Dark One would be in possession of anything so pure. He had no idea of his own connection to it, that he and his beloved provided the key ingredients. “What do you know of True Love?” he challenged.

It was a fair question. “Well, not so much as you, perhaps, but not so little as you might think.”

“You?” said David incredulously. “You once loved someone?”

“It was a brief flicker of Light amidst a vast ocean of Darkness.”

For once, David believed him. “What happened?”

“She died.”

It was the first time he’d ever spoken those words out loud. They sounded so final, he was sure a part of him died as he said them. It didn't make sense that a kind-hearted, brave hero like Belle should suffer such a tragic fate. Less sense than the Dark One owning a bottle of True Love.

He knew David would assume that his loss happened in the far past, back before he was a withered, old monster. He’d never guess that the wound was fresh and still raw.

“That’s the thing about True Love, dearie. It can slip right through your fingers. It’s the most powerful magic in the world, powerful enough to break any Curse. It must be protected at all costs.”

“I don’t understand,” said David. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“I want you to help me protect it,” said Rumpelstiltskin, as though it should have been obvious. The man was a swashbuckling hero, after all. “By putting it in a safe place.”

He conjured a container for the vial – as shiny as gold, as hard as brass, and shaped like that life-sustaining creation, an egg. He opened it up like a jewelry case and tucked the vial into velvet padding to cushion it.  

“Where?” asked David.

“Inside the belly of a beast, of course!” he said, snapping the case shut and tossing it to his designated dragon slayer.

“But why hide it?”

“Let’s just say I’m saving it for a rainnny day.”

David knew he wasn’t going to get more of an answer than that, and he also knew that he’d better get on with it if he wanted to reunite with Snow.

“Let me give you a head start, dearie,” said Rumpelstiltskin, snapping his fingers and transporting David to Maleficent’s fortress. He went invisible and transported himself there in the next second. This fight was going to be too good to miss.

Maleficent had clearly been spending too much time with Regina. She was sitting on a throne-like chair at the top of some stairs, the highest point in the room. With elaborately designed stained-glass windows behind her, it was as though she, too, were a queen. She was so immersed in her fantasy that she didn’t notice David sneaking up behind her. He caught her completely by surprise by pressing his sword against her neck.

“Where is it?” he asked. “Where is the beast that reigns over this castle?”

With a flick of her wrist, she knocked him down the stairs. “That would be me. But ‘beast’ is so harsh. I prefer Maleficent.”

“I’m gonna need a smaller egg,” David murmured to himself. He did not realize what Maleficent was about to morph into.

As he got back up on his feet, she gave a blow that extinguished the candles on her candelabra. Unbeknownst to David, she was sucking up the flames to fuel her fiery breath. When her cackle turned into a smoky croak, she disappeared, ready to morph.

“Show yourself, witch!” yelled David, twirling in a circle with his sword poised for attack.

But Maleficent never left her throne. She reappeared beside it in dragon form, and when she spread her wings, she was so tall and broad, she made David’s slay at King Midas’ look like a bunny rabbit. Nevertheless, he relied on his tried-and-true tactics. He made her chase him around the room until her enormous tail twisted around itself. He jumped on, climbed up the ridges on her back as though they were a staircase, and clung onto her neck for dear life. When she roared, he dropped the case of magic into her wide, gaping mouth. She swallowed it down like a child tricked into taking its medicine.

“That’s what you get for meddling where you don’t belong, dearie,” said Rumpelstiltskin from his invisible perch in the corner. “That Curse was meant for Regina. If you want a role, I will be the one to determine what it is.”

There was nothing left for David to do but escape, and crashing through the stained-glass window was the nearest option. Lucky for him, that side of the fortress faced a lake, so he dove right in. Maleficent would not go after him. Dragons could swim if they were forced to, but as firebreathers, they loathed water.

Rumpelstiltskin transported himself to the beach on the other side of the lake, then transported the fastest horse out of his stables, and conjured a crackling campfire. “Impressive, dearie,” he called to David when he swam ashore. “Come warm yourself.”

David looked more annoyed than triumphant. “I have done what you asked,” he declared. “Return my ring to me.”

“Of course, you’re in a bit of a rush,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “How rude of me.” He held up the ring, “With this, Prince Charming, you will find her.”

The moment David took it back, it gleamed. “Thank you,” he murmured, his Magic Words bristling with mixed feelings. On one hand, he resented being put through a trial to regain what was rightfully his. On the other, he knew he was about to benefit from the ring’s newly enhanced magic.

Rumpelstiltskin eyed him bemusedly as he walked away. “Something’s missing,” he observed, crossing his hands to cast one last parting spell. He transformed David’s wet clothes into regal garb – a white satin shirt and a brocaded red jacket. For the final touch, he levitated the fur cloak off himself and onto its original owner.

David looked down at himself in amazement.

“I gave that cloak the charm of endless storage,” he told David, “but it’s not really my style. As for you, though, now you’re ready for your big moment.”

All David’s unspoken questions burst out of him. Though every deal they’d ever made worked in his favor, he still couldn’t shake his mistrust. Nobody he’d ever heard of came off the better from dealing with the Dark One. “Why do you want us together?” he asked. “What do you get out of it?”

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged. “I’m a fan of True Love, dearie. And more importantly, what it creates.”

David considered this another non-answer, so he just mounted the horse and rode off to find Snow White. Rumpelstiltskin snapped himself back to the Dark Castle and settled in by the wheel while he waited for the Kiss. He knew exactly the moment it happened. Probably the whole realm did. A pulse of pure Love spread across the Land like an instantaneous spring thaw. For a moment, Light magic completely dispelled all Darkness.

“Belle is alive!” whispered his fragile heart. A rush of relief washed over him, like waking up from a terrible nightmare. His eyes filled with hopeful tears. But in the next second, reason took hold. It was just wishful thinking, sparked by the release of the magic. Shrek was out searching for her. Since he never came back, not even with word that she never wanted to see him again, he had to conclude that she was really and truly dead.

News of the couple’s engagement spread almost as fast as their Kiss. It was time to give Regina a mirror call.

“I hate to say I told you so, dearie, but heroes always win in this realm. Your only hope is the Land Without Magic.”

He made no direct mention of the Curse scroll she’d so recklessly traded away. No accusations, no scolding. Just enough to make her burn with regret.

“Oh, shut up!” she spat, reaching for the cover at the top of her mirror. But she stopped short of pulling it down to end their conversation.

“And on that subject,” he continued, “I’ve got an idea for a little experiment we should try. Let’s see if we can bring one magical creature with us. A unicorn might be interesting, but if we want to be bold, we should try a dragon.”

The eager wickedness rekindled in Regina’s eyes. She was already scheming about how she’d claw the Curse scroll back from Maleficent. Trapping her in dragon form could be a good strategy.

“We could keep her in the basement of the Storybrooke Library,” she suggested. “Since you’ve closed it off to the public.”

“Ah, so you’ve done your required reading. Very good. We must discuss it in detail sometime. But please, not over the Mirror network. As I’ve always told you, there’s too much exposure.”

He didn’t give her a chance to argue. He didn’t even wait for a goodbye. He just pulled the cover over his mirror and had the final word.

Rapture! His plans were back on track! On the Light path were Snow White and Prince Charming, soon to be married. From their union, the Cursebreaker would be born. And on the Dark were Regina and Maleficent – one to cast the Curse and the other to unwittingly carry its antidote. Darkness was serving Light, as it was meant to do. When the two paths finally converged, it would be in a place where heroes didn’t necessarily win, but a villain could get a second chance.

“Put me on double speed relative to the rest of the realm,” Rumpelstiltskin told the clock. “It’s full steam ahead to the Land Without Magic!”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 10 of The Princess Maid (in series format)