The curse he had begun to lay down the architecture for was going to require a being of extreme power to enact it, that much he knew from the get go. Power and sacrifice.

Couldn't be himself, for he had nothing left to give. Could have possibly been one of the number of mortal beings in their world gifted with magical talents, but assuming any even had strength enough that still left entirely too much up to chance. Perhaps one might grow into a suitable candidate, perhaps not. Freewill was such a bothersome thing.

There was, of course, one sure fire way to ensure the creation of the sort of person he needed. It would have to be female, couldn't risk it baring any resemblance to Bae, and he couldn't be present for its rearing, not until it was ready to learn how to use all that power inside it. Arrangements would have to be made, away from the mother. Familial bonds were wily beasts, unpredictable and best not to be trusted.

When the miller's daughter came to him, desperate and pleading like so many other girls before her, it was the perfect opportunity. She had agreed to the terms without properly thinking them through, as desperate souls were wont to do, and in this instance that probably should have arose his concerns but he too was more bothered with the outcome of this particular deal than with the means it took to get there.

There was no pretense, no coupling, only magic and when it was done she took the power he'd given her in exchange and used it to ensnare a modestly wealthy lord. She passed the child off as his, securing the bumbling fool and her new station with marriage and Rumpelstiltskin put it out of mind to focus on other deals and plans until the time came to collect his investment.

The girl could scheme, he'd give her that. The lavish home and life she'd stolen for herself with the simple tools he'd given her were really quite impressive.

It was a beautiful house and a beautiful bassinet and a beautiful baby the portly nobleman was cooing over when Rumpelstiltskin materialised in the nursery. The room was decorated with all manner of toys, a handsome wooden rocking horse and a near menagerie of stuffed things, and fine curtains and blankets in pinks and whites.

Cora either hadn't bothered to tell her dear husband of the looming separation or they had in fact, during the some odd nine months she'd carried the child, grown attached and were planning to double cross him. One didn't arrange such a luxurious room for a child they knew they were giving up.

He bared his teeth in a feral parody of a smile. "That's mine, dearie."

########

Regina opened her eyes to an inky black blanket of unfamiliar stars and immediately closed them again as her vision swam in a nauseatingly dizzy fashion. Her head was pounding and there was something small but unpleasant digging into her lower back, below hands that tingled with numbness from being awkwardly positioned beneath her.

And, particularly troubling because she couldn't recall any reason why they should be, her feet and hands were bound with coarse rope that made her still healing wrists burn and itch.

After she'd had a moment to process things it occurred to her that the night sky she had seen upon waking, though vastly different from Storybrooke's, wasn't actually unfamiliar at all. It was the same one she'd seen nightly for a little over half of her life.

Home. They'd fallen through the portal into the Enchanted Forest. It still existed.

And there was magic, the familiar kind she'd once wrapped herself up in so easily. It coiled black and tempting at the edge of her awareness.

Someone stirred beside her, jostling her shoulder, and she remembered Emma-brave, sweet Emma- had fallen in before her. She was alive, at least, if not well.

Regina turned over to curl into the warm body, gratefully pressing her face into the crook of her blessedly still living lover's neck, and realised the soft flesh she was nuzzling, while familiar, definitely did not belong to Emma. The blond's skin always smelled crisp-Like the green soap she favored, Irish something or other- and of lingering leather and other things she could only define simply as Emma. The sheriff certainly never indulged in perfumes, least of all this sweet, flowery whatever-it-was.

She peeked out from beneath her eyelids to find quite a different pair of green eyes staring back at her, wide and startled, the pretty little jaw beneath them slack and gaping.

"What's the matter, dear? I already corrupted the daughter. I thought I may as well go for the full set." She moved as though to push closer, lips pursed, and Snow flung herself backwards, flopping fishlike for her hands and feet were bound as well.

Regina cackled, though the echo of sound within her skull made her temples throb. Oh yes. This was going to be fun.

"Regina, stop traumatizing my mother. We've got bigger issues."

Emma. She was on Regina's other side, sitting with her tied feet stretched before her and arms squirming feebly behind her while she seethed at something sitting opposite the dead grass and sundry underbrush that had become their bed.

There was a camp fire, Regina realised (And she was on the verge of developing something like a phobia), the orange glow of it dancing on Emma's fair skin. She strained and wiggled her torso until she was sitting as well. The vertical motion made her head swim in a way that threatened to send her toppling over again and her fingers burned painfully as full blood flow returned to them.

There was a woman-the apparent object of Emma's ire- sitting perched on a moss ridden log on the far side of the crackling flames with a sword resting across her well armored knees. She had dark hair tied back away from her face and pretty almond eyes that glittered almost black as they regarded the threesome unwaveringly. There was a crude looking tent at her back and just beyond the fire's light the dark, shuffling shadows of horses.

The crest on the woman's breast plate was vaguely familiar, but Regina couldn't focus enough to place it.

"Why-What did you do?" Regina asked, having some vague notion of the blond having offended some inane local custom (And it bothered her a great deal that there were still people here to offend, as she'd assumed the curse had taken the entire world along for the ride, but that was too much to deal with just yet.) while her companions lay unconscious.

"They think we killed their prince. The wraith- It must've..." Emma trailed off, either unable or unwilling to complete the thought.

It was only then Regina remembered the wraith had come through before them and she flinched, longing to twist and see if her palm still bore the mark. She didn't feel anything beneath her curling fingertips but she wouldn't be fully reassured until she'd taken a good look.

Then Emma's words fully sunk in and sickness that had nothing to do with a probable concussion rolled in her stomach.

She had killed and thieved and cursed but she couldn't say she had ever before been responsible for the eternal damming of another human being's soul. It didn't make it better, that her other victims had presumably gone on to a happy enough afterlife, but this was somehow so much worse.

Regina turned so that she was face to the ground and wretched, empty stomach heaving dryly.

"Regina!"

"I think she might have hit her head, look, just there, is she bleed-"

"QUIET!"

The world was a swirl of color and sound and somewhere far away she heard the slick whisp of steel on steel, a whumping as something hard and solid met soft flesh. Presumably the warrior woman had made some threat on Emma and Snow, but Regina was too lost in the kaleidoscope of her own head to pay much attention.

"It traps their souls forever, dearie. No rest, no peace. Alone. It's a fate worse than death, truly."

She'd considered using it, in her darker moments. Thought about what it might be like to put such torment on Snow. There was good reason why she had never been able to follow through with it.

Some acts were unthinkable even for wretched, evil things.

When the world had righted itself once again Regina found Emma had scooted close, watching her with brows knit tight in concern.

"Hey. Are you okay?" The blond whispered softly, and Regina's heart ached so she thought it might just burst. Had she always felt guilt so strongly or was it a result of having been separated from the organ so long, her emotions making up for lost time?

Not worth it. I'm Not worth it, fool girl.

"Fine, dear. You needn't worry for me."

"When you're feeling better do you think you could...?" Emma wiggled her feet pointedly. "You know, poof? Magic."

Regina poked around at the power curled inside her and knew that she could, and more, but recoiled at the thought. If she set it free, if she went back to that place, she wasn't sure she would be able to claw her way back out again.

What might she do this time? What if she hurt Emma? Or Snow, who was so close and complacent she wouldn't even have to exert any effort to have her screaming, dying...

No.

"No." She said, hoping her anxiety would hide the lie. "My powers still aren't working like they used to."

"I could, you know, grope you or something if that would help." Emma said, wiggling her eyebrows and ignoring her mother's disgusted snort.

Remembering their apparent dual effort with the hat, Regina smiled wanly. Whatever the hell that had all been about probably didn't exist in this world. And she still wasn't certain if it had been Emma or Emma's influence over her that had finally done the trick. "No, thank you dear but I highly doubt that would help us in this instance."

"Well, I'm all for trying. If you change your mind."

Snow groaned, burying her face against her knees.

########

The hat sat between them on the tabletop, slouching pathetically and looking more like garbage than a powerful magical artifact. The edges around the hole punched straight through the top had begun to fray and little bits of string hung everywhere.

Henry had the book open in his lap to the story of the mad hatter, but the crazed man in the illustration didn't look like anyone he had ever seen before. "Who do you think he is?"

James shrugged, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I never met him- I didn't even know such a thing as a hatter existed. I mean, David me did, he read Alice in Wonderland in college." Except he had never actually been to college, or really done any of the things he so vividly remembered from his youth in this world. It was all a fabrication. "But I- The prince, didn't"

"We have to find him. Maybe he can fix it."

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

Henry fixed him with a stare that was very much Emma. "Sure you do. You're having a low point, every hero does. You just need to think. He's gotta be in town somewhere, right?"

"The shelter." James said suddenly, smacking his hand down on the table with enough force to make the hat jump. "Maybe he's there somewhere, we could look-"

He was already making plans, all but forgetting the boy smiling at him from across the table as the new feeling of purpose took him over. Whatever David had been, the Prince was a man of action.

########

"I want a new deal!" Cora was pleading on her knees, every inch the desperate mother. Rumpelstiltskin, however, only had eyes for the baby cradled in his arms, with her dark curl of hair and big brown eyes. She hadn't fussed not once since he'd scooped her up, merely gazed at him with a kind of wonder while chewing on her own tiny fist.

"I have no further use for deals with you, dearie. I have what I need right here."

"Please, I'll give you anything. Just let me keep her. We named her-We love her..."

The 'we' rang false. He suspected someone did love the girl, but it was more likely the wealthy husband Cora was so desperate to hold on to than the woman herself.

"Anything?"

Rumpelstiltskin looked at her, seeing not her physical form but the twisting branches of possibility that stretched into her future. A different outcome for each, but the path trod much the same for all. He smiled, a little titter of a giggle escaping his lips.

He mightn't need the nursemaid after all. This woman was going to break their daughter all on her own.

"Very well. You may raise the child; On one condition."

It was all semantics, of course. If she had taken the time to mull it over she might have realised he never handed over ownership.

Or she didn't care. It didn't matter either way; He'd be back to claim his property all the same.

"Thank you, thank you, anything you ask."

"I want her name."

########