The flash of revulsion, the horrified alarm, brushes something old and frightened in the heart of him. Rumpelstiltskin knows the piercing, choking disgust as his skin became scaled, his heart turned black. He knows the scrambling, gibbering fear as he became stunned by the realization of what he was. The power had made him exultant, the price well worth its reward.

He sees his old desperation mirrored in the other man's face as the rabbit comes spilling out of his arms, and the Dark One's stare bores into him.

"It's possible I could help with that little problem," he says neutrally. Grizelda's heavy tale curls along the leaf-strewn floor as she shifts toward the little creature. "Curses happen to be a specialty of mine."

He did not know the meaning of his curse when he shouldered its burden, but that does not mean Rumpelstiltskin has learned to regret it.