Name: Covenantal Promises
Word count so far: 1563
Warnings: Rated M for scenes of violence, swearing, and sexual scenes
Summary: Willow Lehman, 19, had lived with her parents her whole life. They passed away without warning
from what she was told were simultaneous heart attacks. Always having lived in poverty, she was utterly shocked when
she was left with a huge sum of cash. Willow moved to Storybrooke for a fresh start, expecting to take her mind off of her parents'
strange, grim death note and the unexplained money. However, when she began to find clues to her past in this new town, and
she starts to believe that there was much more to the deaths than she originally thought, she is thrown into a
situation where she must fight a battle against an opponent who shouldn't even exist.
Author's Note: This is merely a prologue. The chapters to come will be much more detailed, and much longer. This chapter is meant to serve as an introduction to both Willow and her relationship with Mr. Gold. I hope you enjoy what I've written so far. I'd greatly appreciate some feedback, as this is my first story.
Also, Willow isn't meant to be merely a love interest for Mr. Gold. Any relationship between the two will be elaborated on in later chapters.
Thanks for reading!
Mr. Gold first noticed the girl from across the shop.
He was quite certain she hadn't noticed him yet, her gaze fixed intently on a golden chess set balanced upon a small stand close to the door. He wasn't sure what she looked like, her brown hair and long sweeping bangs covering her face as she leaned forward, leaving only her thin lips bared.
"Can I help you with something, dearie?"
He felt a perverse sort of satisfaction as she jumped like a cat doused in water, nearly knocking over the expensive board in her stumble.
"Um, sorry, you startled me," she stammered, an awkward blush prominent on her now fully-visible self. Ghostly pale skin, innocent grey eyes, straight, long nose that stuck out a bit from her willowy face. "Yeah, actually... how much is this chess board over here?"
Mr. Gold approached the girl, limping slightly, embellished cane echoing softly about his shop. She took a small step backwards as he advanced closer - subtle, but definitely there - and it did not go unnoticed.
"Ahh, this particular beauty has been here for... well, forever, really. I suppose not everyone has the same exemplary taste as you and I. I believe this one goes for twenty-five hundred, three thousand if you'd like the stand as well."
He was certain that she'd be short for cash - she didn't look a day over nineteen, and he hadn't seen her in his town before. She'd probably just moved, as not an awful lot of tourists came to Storybrooke. Either way, he waited with baited breath for the loud gulp, the awkward gaze fixed downwards, the fidgeting of the fingers.
"Um, that actually sounds great... is there some way I can get the stand brought to my place? I don't have a car..." Her voice was soft, unsure, naive. He liked it.
"Oh, I'm sure we can figure something out, miss..." His voice trailed off at the end, and he waited patiently for her to fill the silence. It took her a moment to realize she was meant to speak, and she visibly cringed when she realized he was waiting. She was such a trembling, knock-kneed little creature. Mr. Gold smirked.
"Lehman. Willow Lehman. That's my name," she said quickly, running her fingers through her hair. He wondered if she did that often.
"Well, miss Lehman, I'd be more than happy to help you out with the transportation... my car's just out back, we can deal with that right after we discuss the matter of payment. Would you like to pay now?"
Willow nodded, unzipping the bag that hung across her shoulders and reaching in. Mr. Gold's eyes widened. The bag was stuffed with cash, mostly hundreds, though he was pretty sure he could make out a couple of thousands amongst the batch.
"Do you often carry around that much money in your purse, Willow?" he asked coldly, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion.
She gasped, jumping backwards and closing her bag quickly. "I just came into some money, and I don't have a bank account... it's nothing shady, I swear. Do you not take cash...?"
"I'm afraid I'll need to know where you got that money, dearie. I like to keep my town clear of thieves, you know," he murmured, stifling a grin when Willow's eyes widened at the "my" part of his statement.
"Your town? I thought, um, I just moved here, I didn't know you were the mayor... I thought the mayor was a woman." The girl seemed flustered, trying desperately to change the subject.
"She is," Mr. Gold informed, "I'm not the mayor. I own the town financially. Think of this pawn shop as... well, as a little side project. I'm afraid you'll still have to tell me the source of your money, dearest."
Biting her lip, Willow looked down nervously. "It's kind of hard to explain... nothing illegal, though, I swear! Can I please just buy the damn chess set?"
Her use of "damn" made him chuckle darkly. How cute.
"Tsk... rudeness doesn't suit you, dear. I'll let you buy the piece once you convince me you aren't paying for it with dirty money. I can do this all day, you know."
"Sorry..." she whispered, looking like she was about to cry. "It's just, it's really hard to explain. It's kind of a long story."
"I'm feeling kind today, Willow," Mr. Gold explained, "I won't report you to anyone, at least not yet. Our police force is in shambles, so it wouldn't do me much good anyways." He said the last sentence rather light-heartedly, feeling a swell of satisfaction when Willow forced a smile onto her petrified face.
"Thanks so mu-"
"However," he continued, "you'll still have to explain your situation to me. We can even do it over dinner, you can think of it as a 'welcome to Storybrooke' special!"
She looked down, uncertainty clear on her face. "I don't know if I-"
"Please," Mr. Gold interrupted, the whisper of a knowing smile evident on his face.
Willow nodded before she could question why. "Thank you for the offer, sir."
"You can call me Mr. Gold. I'll be ready in a few moments, feel free to look around."
She nodded, turning quickly to examine more of his wares, clearly not wanting to hold eye contact with the older man any longer than necessary. Mr. Gold took the opportunity to run his eyes appreciatively up her slender ankles, her supple thighs, her pert behind partially covered by the tail of her coat. He couldn't help but notice that her exceptionally tight jeans showed off her body quite marvelously, the dark denim disappearing where it was tucked inside her flat suede boots.
Yanking himself out of his musings, Mr. Gold turned and walked towards the back room, chuckling softly to himself. There would be ample opportunity for admiring the girl's physique later, and five o'clock in his own shop was neither the time nor the place.
Willow was terrified. She heard the door at the back open and close, and forced herself to stare intently at a pretty little tea set. It looked like bone china... or was it something else? She wasn't sure. Either way, she felt incredibly stupid. She should've known that the man had power, she should've never given him reason to suspect her. She didn't do anything wrong, anyways. Even she barely knew what was going on, how could she explain it to him?
Reaching out a spindly finger, she brushed her nail haphazardly along the arch of a crystalline rose, standing out amongst the other objects on the shelf. Something about it was painfully familiar to her, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why. The entire shop had a strange sense of nostalgia, really, but the rose... it was as if she'd just seen it days before.
Yanking her thoughts away from the reflective piece, she turned around, finding herself pacing anxiously across the wooden floors and back again.
"If he really is the owner of this town, I'm sure he'll understand..." she whispered, her voice barely audible though her lips moved. Unbuttoning her coat to reveal a cream-coloured lacy shirt, she reached into an inner pocket, searching and fumbling until her cold fingertips brushed paper. She pinched the corner delicately between her thumb and index finger, pulling it out slowly, as if it was made of cobwebs.
Holding the note up, her eyes darted across it for the umpteenth time that day, though she knew it was useless. Every mark, every indent, everything that marred the paper - she'd memorized it all. The deep criss-cross that was embedded into it from the amount of times it had been folded and unfolded was beginning to fray, the thin paper nearly falling apart in her hands.
I'm sorry, so sorry, and I wish I'd told you before it was too late. He told us we couldn't back out. We tried, we tried.
Knitting her eyebrows together in focus, she read the letter again and again, still unable to make sense of anything on it. It was driving her insane, it truly was, and she didn't even know what it was referring to.
Willow heard the doorknob click behind her, and she quickly folded up the little square of paper, shoving it into her breast pocket just as Mr. Gold stepped out from behind the door. He smiled kindly at her, though he still sent chills down her spine. She decided it was his presence - the way he said everything with that knowing smile, that leering glint in his brown eyes, his fingers laced together patiently, so patiently.
"Are you ready to go, dearie? Or were you looking at something?" he asked. He said it innocently, but the smile on his face said otherwise.
"Oh, no, it's fine, I'm ready," Willow stammered, buttoning her coat up in what she hoped was an inconspicuous manner. "Um... where would you like to go?"
His smile widened. "That depends on what you're in the mood for, I suppose. There are numerous fine dining places around here, but there's also a nice little cafe that I've always enjoyed... what would you like?"
Willow didn't mind either way, though she thought he might find her rude if she made him buy her something expensive. "The cafe sounds good."
"Excellent."