#mine: rumple bumple | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

treatian · 11 months

Text

The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Delicacies of Time

Chapter 1: Confusion

Now he was in hell.

We are in hell.

Who are we?

Hell.

The Underworld.

The Underworld was no hell compared to this.

To this.

I didn't think you had it in you!

Of course, it was in him. He'd do anything for me.

You've got your son, but you've lost yourself.

Lost. Where was he?

Where were they?

It was cold!

Papa?

Rumple.

Rumple him. Rumple something. Rumpled clothes, rumpled paper. Rumple…Rumple, bumple, bumble. Bumbling. Bumble bee.

Rumple.

No! No room! No more voice! No room! No room for more!

No room for Rumple. No room!

Kill her!

No!

Kill who?

Who her? Who him?

Refuse!

Heat and cold. Blurry. Screams.

Cage.

Cage with bars.

Heat. Wool. Spin.

Familiar.

Regret and guilt. Family.

Spinning familiar. Easy. No thoughts, no harm.

Spin.

Plans on plans on waffles.

The lady from Oz. The green girl. Green like the emerald. Green for jealousy. Jealousy of all.

Dorothy and Glinda and Regina, oh my.

Fire in the grate. Oatmeal for food. Straw into gold.

Gold. He was gold once. Or was he golden now?

Before.

Golden.

Spin.

Toil.

Work.

Clearing.

Spin. Toil. Work.

It was the only thing he knew. It was the only thing that helped him to know.

Helps us to know.

His mind was watery chaos. It was the sea in a storm he was constantly trying to swim through, continually trying to fight against the waves, to come up for air to come into clarity!

Spin.

Toil.

Work.

It helped.

It helps.

It was rigorous. It was religious. It was routine.

Routines help.

It helped to distract him from the voice.

There was a presence in his head, under his very skin that didn't belong, like an infection that burned through him.

But he couldn't get rid of it. He wouldn't. Couldn't allow it.

Allow it!

It was worse than the Dark Ones who he'd long since become accustomed to, worse than the Seer had ever been, and far more constant. It was like living in that state between vision and reality without a break.

The voice in his head was that of his son.

He was screaming. And he was talking. He was struggling, fighting against him as they both fought for air and breath.

Pain! It hurts! It always hurts!

There were words. But the words weren't always his. And there were memories. But they weren't always his.

The face of Peter Pan and running from the boys in Neverland.

His? Was that his memory? Or Bae's? Rumpelstiltskin.

A cave somehow decorated with the night sky. Something about a coconut.

To whom did that memory belong?

Running his hand over the bare calf of a woman. Belle? His own?

A foster family, the worst one yet. And then an open window, a crawl into the night, and a mad dash to be as far away as possible.

Certainly not his memory. Baelfire then.

Dinner with Belle in the hovel.

He remembered Belle? Had he taken her to the hovel?

I did. Had to. You weren't there. Was I there?

Him? Who was him?

Rumple Bumple isn't here. Rumple Bumple gone, my dear!

A cauldron, Jefferson's voice in the background, a hat he hoped he possessed again, something about fixing the past.

He really is back from the dead!

Dead…

He was almost sure that was him.

Dead.

Tallahassee.

Him? Or Bae? Mr. Gold?

Too hard to tell.

So much better dead.

He's lost his mind.

Lost.

Not lost.

On the contrary. Now I have two. Two minds.

Mining Time.

Digging deeper in the grime.

A portal, something's in front.

Sometimes behind.

Always pushing.

Always pulling.

A firm grip on his father's hand.

On the hand of his son and one on the dagger, a memento like a lyre.

Like a curse.

And then.

Emptiness.

Nothing.

Ruin.

Pain.

Torment.

Hurt.

Regret.

Why?!

Drowning!

Spin.

Toil.

Work.

It helped.

Round and round the circle of time.

It was the only thing he knew. It was the only thing that helped him to know, to ground him in his watery chaos.

Racing towards the finish line.

It was a sea in a storm he was constantly trying to swim against, continually trying to fight against the waves to come up for-

"Hey…"

Air into…

"Hey…"

Clarity…

"Hey, hey, hey…"

A hand in his. Familiar eyes. He knew that hair. He'd seen that hair a million times. He wanted to marry that hair.

Trust.

Love. He loved her.

Trust her.

Not her hair. He trusted her.

So do I.

So did Bae.

"I know you're in there…I know you can hear me," she pressed, her grip on him tightening; it was grounding buoyant all at once. It lifted him above the waves into consciousness much better than wool and string.

Hear us both.

"How do we stop Zelena?"

Zelena.

Menace.

Captor.

Big mouth. Always talking, always ranting and monologuing. Worse than my Dad.

His once and former protégé.

She wants to change it. She wants to go back; she's said it a million times, she's asked a million times. We have to keep refusing!

The past couldn't be changed, couldn't be visited.

That's not going to stop her from trying.

She'd tear the world apart. Tear his world apart.

Our world.

How to stop her…

How to be free…

Light.

"Wh-what?" Belle questioned.

Dark Magic can only be stopped by…

"Light Magic."

The Emerald! It has magic; we can feel it!

We don't know that's the key.

But there's someone who can confirm.

The girl! The one she keeps talking about, the one who nearly had her beat before!

If not us, then-

Them.

"The Good Witch of the South…Glinda."

"Glinda?" Belle confirmed. She spoke the name like it rang a bell.

That's our Belle.

That was his Belle. She could free them both.

If anyone can fix it, she can.

The Wicked Witch of the West. Defeat her and-

She can free us. Get me back to my son.

Get him back to his son.

"South of…what? Oz?"

"No!"

Once but no more. Fucking Wicked Witch.

Fucking Wicked Witch.

"Banished! Here! The Good Witch of the South was banished North."

North of the Dark Forest! That's what she said!

North of the Dark Forest.

Wasn't that what she said last week?

Last week or last month?

How long? The monkey! New York! Where are we? Where am I? Emma?! Henry?! Belle?! I have to warn them!

Glinda.

Once of the South. Now of the North. Now through a door.

A door?

Through the door, step inside, if pure of heart, then she won't hide.

She won't hide.

She can't hide. That's what the witch said.

Last week or last month?

How long?

More than we had before. We should go before the witch returns.

Before Zelena comes back. Trap! Belle!

Belle.

"Belle!"

Rumple!

Belle.

"My Rumple!"

Air.

Clarity.

He looked into her smile, and it was all clear. Orpheus and Eurydice. The clearing. Hell. Zelena and all the plans that she'd been making in front of him. Plans he and Neal were too incapacitated to do anything about. He wanted to help. But he wasn't sure if the words that came out of his mouth next would be his own, he wasn't sure if it would help her hurt.

She was on to something. She'd taken something from the ramblings. If any of them were smart enough to figure out how to save Bae and free them from this prison, it was her. She just needed time. That was ironic for some reason.

But she was sad. So sad. He could see it as she lifted her hands to her neck and removed the pearl necklace he'd seen her wear dozens of times in his life. Then her hand was on his again. Pulling it towards her. Pulling it upright.

"Take this," she insisted, putting it into his hand. "I'll be back for you, always."

When two people both have something the other wants…

…A deal can always be struck.

She'll be back. I trust her.

She'd be back. He trusted her.

"I love you. And this doesn't change that. I'm with you forever. I always keep my word."

She always did.

She always does.

Sealed with a kiss. With a dream. With a ring. Seal it!

There was something in his hand. Something hard and straight. Something gold and gleaming. It was all he had, and yet nothing next to what he could do. And still…

"Deal," he managed as she took it from him. He could see she was close to tears. He wanted to wipe them away. He wanted to get down on bended knee and propose. He wanted to marry her.

I approve! She's the best decision you ever made!

Worst decision he could ever make...

But then she was gone, in the hands of another.

Another piece of himself gone.

Spin.

Toil.

Work.

It made it better.

Makes what better?

He didn't know.

#rumbelle #rumpelstiltskin #rumple #ouat #fanfic #dark one #ouat fanfiction #belle #mr. gold #baelfire #Zelena #wicked witch of the west

1 note · View note