In Storybrooke, Mr. Gold strives to be the man Bae used to love--until Belle is kidnapped to Neverland. If he resumes his Dark One powers to save her, can he control them? In the Enchanted Forest, Emma battles ogres, zombies and her ex to get back h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Mr. Gold (Rumplestiltskin): Yeah, well, I'm a difficult man to love. (Skin Deep)
When Rumple had begun his tale, two lines had appeared in his forehead. With each new incident he'd related, they'd deepened. Now his face was tensed into creases and ridges as stiff as a mask. Belle's arms ached to hug him, but she knew she had to let him talk.
Rumple glanced at her then hung his head. "Those questions tormented me for years because frankly, I didn't want them answered. I was afraid of myself-of discovering what I truly am. And that fear made me what everyone thought I was-a coward."
That word. In the past, every time the prospect of getting close to Rumple had ended with him shutting her out, Belle had vented her frustration. Now she had the sickening realization her reproaches had been the worst ones possible: You're a coward, Rumplestiltskin. You need courage to let me in. You're too cowardly to be honest with me. As the daughter of Sir Maurice, commander of the garrison, she'd grown up with bravery the most vaunted virtue. Well, it took many forms.
"In circumstances like those," she said softly, "it took courage just getting up in the morning."
A smile twitched Rumple's lips. He shook his head. "I'm not forgetting that when Regina had you locked up, you had nobody and nothing to hang your hopes on. In the dark time I'm describing, I always had Bae."
Until you lost him. Belle remembered the child's clothing she'd come across in the Dark Castle that had prompted Rumplestiltskin's confession-a gray tunic the size of a five-year-old, a brown homespun shirt for a young teen.
"Well, now that I've started telling this..." Rumple rubbed the back of his neck. "Duke Angus died, and the son he loved so much that he could understand a battle-shirking father-his son Argus-became the worst despot the Frontlands ever saw. Instead of grown men attracted by commissions, he filled his ranks with children conscripted by press gangs-the firstborn of each peasant family the day they turned fourteen. Training them didn't matter. The goal of their service was to die. Duke Argus said the one thing peasants were good at was making babies. They could afford to lose one."
"That's awful. Nobody feels that way. Every child is precious."
Rumple nodded. "Earlier this evening, I was called upon to reverse a fertility potion. But I was told in no uncertain terms that the seventeen children already in the family were not so many that their mother and father didn't know what to do. As for me, I only had one. His coming birthday filled me with dread."
The Frontlands Massacres-that was the war in which Baelfire had been expected to serve, the war that Rumple had stopped. Belle was about to learn the link between the quiet spinner he had been and the all-powerful Dark One he became. She sat so still, she barely breathed.
"The neighbor girl, Morraine, was three days older than Bae. When Captain Hordor and his men came for her, they brought backup-a sorcerer able to place a stranglehold on the poor child's parents from across the pastureland. No one could withstand him. That night I scraped together our meager savings, woke Bae, and set out to flee to the next realm. At the edge of the forest, we chanced upon an old tramp. I barely had time to give him alms before I heard riders approaching. I told Bae to get off the road, out of sight, but already it was too late. Captain Hordor and his men surrounded us."
