Eros landed with impact on the balcony of the Dark One's castle, dark eyes scanning for any trace of the fabled immortal. The son of Aphrodite had heard of his powers, and he needed them, more then ever.
"Eros…It's cold…" Psyche's voice came from his arms, a tremble.
"No…" Eros knelt, folding his blue red feather wings around her, shaking his head at the limp figure in his arms. "No, Psyche, stay with me…"
Pscyhe was mortal, he had always know that, and he had been prepared to watch her grow old at his side and pass away some day. Instead she and he had been tricked. He, into not trusting her, and she into a simple mistake. But the woman had come looking for him, despite his self imposed exile. She had proved her love again and again by fulfilling trials to the other gods.
And then Eros's mother had poisoned her. The woman he loved was fading, and he could do nothing to save her as she cooled in his arms.
"Rumplestiltskin, damn it, help me! I know you can save her!"
"Indeed I can. But the question is, will I?"
Eros folded his wings back to turn to the creature who appeared to him. Wrinkled skin of molted mold and gold flecks, with strange garb of leather and alligator skin. Rumplestiltskin cackled as he approached.
"Seems, dearie, she's been poisoned. Olympian Politics remain the same as always, I see!"
"Can you save her?" Eros looked up at him, eyes pleading as he held Psyche's form close, to maintain any heat.
"Yes, and no. I can't cure the poison myself, ti's caused a condition. I can't do anything to stop it from killing her." Rumplestiltskin replied.
"…Then she is lost to me." He whispered, feeling his heart break in his chest.
"Not entirely, bird boy." Rumplestiltskin snorted. "I can't save her, but I can stop her from dying until someone else does. I can freeze frame her, see?" He smirked and waved his hand.
"What?" Eros looked down and his eyes widened for a moment. The young woman in his arms was still, but he could still feel heat faint under her skin. Her eyes were mid flutter, and the very clothing she wore suspended in movement. "How did you…"
"Simple spell really. But for that, and getting her somewhere, it will cost you." Rumplestiltskin cackled with a flourish of his hand. "All magic comes at a price!"
"I know your jig. I'm ready to dance. Name your price." Eros growled, eyes narrowing.
"Your bow and arrows, gifts from your mother if I'm not mistaken?" Rumplestiltskin smirked. "Those."
Eros cocked a brow and gave him a funny look.
"What use would you have of them?"
"Does it matter? I've named my price. Your mother has a rare gift, to make love occur. Nearly impossible otherwise." Rumplestiltskin produced a contract. "Do we have a deal?"
Eros glanced down at Psyche's dark haired form, still as if asleep, but safe, for now. He could save her now, if he found a way. He took a breath, thinking about the bow and arrows on his back. Yes, they assisted in his match making duties, but not as the Dark One thought. It was his duty to protect them. But then, the woman who'd given them to him, the supposed Goddess of Love, had nearly taken his true love from him.
The Cherub gently set his wife's form to the ground before pulling the quiver and bow off his shoulder. Apple wood shafts with white feather vanes, carefully formed and crafted every one. Each one had the power to boost a person's courage and increase lust, but it could not create love. Even Eros's mother could not do that; she could merely give it a boost if it already existed, or suppress it if she tried hard enough. She didn't often though. People in love gave her a power boost.
"Pleasure doing business, dearie!" The Dark One took the items and vanished them in a puff of colored smoke. "Your love will be safe and sound, and then when my apprentice finally casts the Dark Curse she'll be whisked away to…"
"Wait, what about a curse and whisking?" Eros snapped in response, his eyes narrowing as he faced the man.
"…This world." Rumplestiltskin gestured around them, "As no means of saving her. The curse I happen to have been arranging since before your grandfather traded your mother to her husband, much less before your mother met yer father, will bring various entities to another realm. A realm where magic will cease to exist, more or less, and thus, your mother's poison, will have no effect and vanish from her blood." He snorted. "All you have to do is get her to Snow White's Kingdom."
"….What's the catch?" Eros could tell there was something else. The man was speaking too much like his mother.
"Well…the girl will…likely have her memories…replaced. With false ones from the new world, by the curse." Rumplestiltskin sighed. "Tough luck, I'm afraid, but there are no perfect solutions…"
"…And there is no way to forge love from magic." Eros answered grouchily as he scooped up Psyche. "…Will I still have my memories?"
"Well you are technically an immortal." Rumplestiltskin answered. "So yes, the curse will render you powerless, but you're a tier one. There's a few of us, entities who might keep our memories. Now tell me, what was that about forging love being impossible?"
Eros snorted and turned over his shoulder.
"That quiver does no more good then getting people punch drunk, only faster. It increases lust, and draws on temporary bravery." He smirked. "Should have asked me for my father's sword." With that he took flight, spreading two massive red wings and flying for the Enchanted Forest….
Dana Wallace opened her eyes slowly, and groaned, promptly shutting them again. The dark haired teen didn't want to get up and go to work. Work was miserable. Working another day, eight to six, at the post office that rarely got any mail. She supposed people sent mail to each other in town, but she had noticed in as long as she could remember she'd never seen mail come from outside town. Nor for that matter had she seen it leaving town.
But after a moment her alarm clock went off and she groaned, shaking her head as she climbed out of bed to get dressed. She had lived alone for longer then she care to admit, and she knew she'd had family once, but they'd passed away. So she dressed in her uniform, blue blouse and dark blue shorts, and tied her hair up with a red ribbon.
She hated the boxes, most of all, and she didn't know why. She frowned, shaking her head as she crossed the street toward the office she worked at. Oh well. Just another day.
Except for the car chase. In all the time she'd been in the sleepy little village, she couldn't remember any excitement. And now there was a orange truck with a New Jersey license plate barreling toward her, being chased by the sheriff's patrol car. Dana's eyes widened and she froze in place, unable to will her legs to move. I'm going to die.
"Well don't just stand there, move!"
Suddenly something hit her before the truck, someone. A man had tackled her to the ground, out of the way, across the street. They hit the grass patch in front of the Post Office and she yelled out, groaning.
"Ow! Damn you Dev Ryder! That hurt!"
"Well excuse me for saying, but I think getting hit by the truck would have ended worse." The man laughed as he stood up, dusting himself off with a smirk.
"…Thank you for saving me." Dana mumbled as she stood up.
Dev was a few years older then her, but it seemed like more. He was a pervert, prone to raunchy jokes wherever he went, and sometimes when he looked at her…well, it felt like he'd seen her naked. But Dana knew he never had. She'd remember that. He was just the punk who hung out outside Storybrooke Grade, Middle, and High School. Though…this hadn't been the first time he'd saved her. She could remember that too. Bullies, her own stupidity, nearly falling from the tops of ladders, and things of that occasion.
"Any time." Dev smirked at her again and gave a mock bow. "Are you hurt?"
"No. Mostly not. A few scrapes. I'll live." Dana gave a wave. "I gotta open the office. For sure everyone will be writing notes now, we had a car chase!" She laughed and walked away.
Dev waved back with a soft smile as he watched her go. She had no idea who se was. She thought she worked at a post office. Dev had a cheat seat, or he'd been working on one. The fact was other then people to avoid (The Dark One and his Apprentice), Dana Wallace was the only one he gave a damn about know who was. Because of course, he knew who she was. She was his Psyche, and he was her Eros. And even if she didn't know who he was, she'd live. He could earn her love again, be damn the daily cycle, and eventually the savior would come and break the curse. For now…he smirked.