Emma Swan fondled the goblet in her hand as she stood at the counter to Mr. Gold's pawn shop. She could feel her feet sinking in the plush red carpeting. The goblet itself was a rather large cup, made completely of gold. Or what looked like gold. She sighed. For all she knew, it could have been Fool's Gold.
The bell above the front door jangled, signaling a new customer. Emma turned her head to see a young man walk in, looking to be sixteen or seventeen years of age. As the light fell into the room, some of it caught his messy tawny hair, making it look like spun gold. Emma couldn't help but smirk- Rumplestiltskin, otherwise known as Mr. Gold, would do anything he could to make a deal for something so beautiful. The teenager sauntered lazily up to the counter, planting himself next to her. Up close, she could see he had high cheekbones, his skin a perfect combination of honey and vanilla, if that was possible. The black clothes he wore only made his features more pronounced, contrasting considerably with each item.
Emma hefted the cup in her arms. It was beginning to get heavy as she held it for so long. Quickly, she stele a glance at him one more time, feeling an itch at the back of her throat. Dust floated everywhere, and she assumed Mr. Gold didn't really like cleaning up.
"Ah, Miss Swan!" Mr. Gold pushed through a set of double doors behind the counter, placing his hands on the glass countertop. Small statues and knick-knacks resided peacefully inside, waiting to be sold to gullible tourists. Emma smiled.
"Mr. Gold," she said with tight lips. The base of the cu was starting to dig into her skin as she held it close. The magician eyed it eagerly, rubbing his hands together.
"What have we here?" he said, his voice rising an octave. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the boy staring at the cup. He turned away swiftly when they met eyes.
"Well," Emma coughed, finally ridding herself of the itch, "I found this in the station, and was wondering if you could help me find the owner." Nodding, Mr. Gold licked his lips.
First we'd have to appraise it," he said, "authenticity, junk like that-"
"I'm sorry," the teenager cleared his throat, leaning on the counter with a cocky smirk plastered on his beautiful face, "can i see that for a minute?" The two adults exchanged glances, the boy's tawny eyes darting between them expectantly. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled a small deck of cards from his pocket, beginning to shuffle through them.
"Sir, I'm dealing with a client," Mr. Gold said politely, "if you'd be so kind as to wait, I will serve you shortly." The boy sighed, tapping his nails against the glass. A heavy ring made of silver rested on his index finger, the letter 'W' wrought neatly in the center with foliage leaves surrounding.
"Of course dear," he said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. The deck of cards rested on the counter, the boy dragging a thin finger around the designs. Mr. Gold turned back to Emma.
"Give it here for a moment," he said, and the boy suddenly widened his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows in a mix of anger and confusion. Mr. Gold ignored him, turning the rather large cup over and over in his hands. Their reflections were warped in the glass, the gold clinking as he set it down gently.
"So?" Emma asked, "what about it?" Mr. Gold looked up from the goblet, astonished.
"This is made of pure gold," he murmured. That got the boy's attention. He suddenly lunged for it across the counter, pushing Emma out of the way. Before he could even brush his fingers against the exterior, however, Mr. Gold pulled it away.
"You don't understand!" he said, flipping his hair out of his eyes, "I need that cup!"
"What you need is to wait, sonny!" Rumple scolded him, "the sheriff here can charge you with assault, you know!" The threat sounded not so much scary as funny, tinged with Mr. Gold's Scottish sounding accent. He looked from Mr. Gold to Emma.
"Give me that cup," he said, "and I don't normally beg because that's for peasants, but I beg of you-"
"I don't even know you," she said, his comment striking her as odd. As he shook his hands, she noticed on his arm a series of strange black markings, white scars dancing among them. The boy swallowed.
"No, you don't understand- Valentine wants to use that to-"
"To what?" Rumple cut him off, "have a drink?"
"Even if he is an alcoholic, it isn't his fault," the boy said sternly, "but he intends to use that to destroy the Downwolrd. And any other world, for that matter," The bel jingled again, and the three of them looked up to see a teenaged girl stride in with her red hair in waves, wearing similar black clothes. Her arms, unlike the boys, were covered, so Emma was unable to see if she too had the same weird tattoos.
"Jace, what are you doing?" the girl asked, eyeing Emma and Rumple. Pointing to them, she added, "are they in the Clave?" Jace scoffed.
"As if I would associate myself with the Clave, Clary," he said. Clary shrugged.
"But Shadowhunters do associate themselves with the Clave…"
"No, that was Valentine," he hissed, "and not every Shadowhunter does! Now shut your pretty little mouth before I do it for you!"
"I'm sorry," Emma cut in, "but is this part of a flash mob or something?" Clary met eyes with her, gulping nervously.
"Um, no, Miss," she said, "Jace and I were just leaving-" She went to leave, but Jace grabbed her hand, pulling her back. He jutted his chin at the golden goblet that was sitting n the counter, Mr. Gold running a finger around the rim.
"Clary, do you see that cup?" he asked. She tried yanking her arm away, but he only held on tighter, keeping her near. Emma frowned, going to reach for her handcuffs. She let her hand rest on her pocket, just to see what happened next.
"Jace, stop it!" Clary hissed, "you're making an idiot of yourself!"
"If I had a dime for every time a girl said that to me…." he trailed, off, adding, "never mind. Look at the cards." Clary saw them lying on the counter, the top one flipped to show the design painted on it.
"Why do you have Madame Dorthea's cards?" she asked, "the ones my mother painted?" Jace and Emma met eyes momentarily. He knew he wouldn't be able to explain his way out of this one now.
"Look at what Jocelyn painted, Clary," he hinted, "then look at the cup." Mr. Gold and Emma watched as she darted between the two. Emma hesitantly reached over as a look of realization filled Clary's eyes, picking up the top card. It was papery thing between her fingers, the paint feeling heavy and lumpy in some areas.
"It's a picture of a cup," she said flatly, "are you sure you aren't high, kid?"
Jace ignored her, snatching the card from her hands to compare it of himself. He grinned, showing off brilliantly white teeth that rested in two perfect rows. He was right.
"It's the cup," he announced. Clary tried sending an apologetic look to Emma before replying.
"The Mortal Cup?"
"The last of the Mortal Instruments-"
"Wait- the Silent Brothers have the sword and the mirror now," Clary said, "but are you sure-"
"Listen, all this chitchat is wonderful, dearie," Mr. Glod stopped her short, clasping his hands on the counter, "but I'm trying to run a business." Clary was just about to apologize when Jace shot her a glare. She clamped her mouth shut.
"Well, we're trying to save the world as we know it, so, I think that's a little more important," he sneered at the pawnshop owner. He held the card out, showing him the picture, "Now hand it over." Emma shook her head at him. She and found it first, and it she pawned it, she was getting what she was owed. Besides, it was obvious the whole 'saving the world' thing was a joke.
"Alright then," Mr. Gold agreed, much to Clary and Emma's surprise. Jace reached for it, Mr. Gold swiping it away as his hands began to close around the stem, "But for a price."
"I don't have any money on me, if that's what you want," Jace crossed his arms, "and quite frankly, you wouldn't be able to afford me, so don't even go that route." Clary's eyes nearly bugged out of her head.
"Jace! What the hell?" she cried, "are you saying you-"
"Peddled these goods on the street?" he suggested, gesturing to his body, "heavens no. Clary, my body is a gift to humanity and I intend to keep it that way." The others sighed with unanimous relief, Mr. Gold hovering protectively over the cup.
"Well?" Mr. Gold said, "have we got a deal?"
"What would you get out of it?" Jace asked, shoving his hands in his pockets until he felt his fingers brush against his stele. The metal was cold against his skin s he gripped it tight, ready to pull it out just in case anything happened. Mr. Gold grinned, revealing a set of teeth that were yellowed, some of them cavity-ridden stumps.
"Your hair," he said, "is more beautiful than the finest gold I've ever had the opportunity to spin." Waving him over, he said, "Lean your head towards me." Hesitantly, Jace complied, and Emma noticed him wince as Mr. Gold ran his hands lightly through the golden locks.
"Softer as well," he commented, and Jace shivered once Mr. Gold removed his nails from his scalp, fixing his hair as he stood up. It looked a bit mussy, but Emma thought it suited him. It made him look like a lion. And besides, it already looked like that when he had walked in.
"Is that all?" he said, eyeing the cup greedily.
"The marks on your arms," Mr. Gold pointed to a rather large one, "what are they?" Jace stole a look at Clary before answering reluctantly. He knew he was going to be told off by Hodge later.
"Runes," he said, "they can give you strength in a fight. As well as heal injuries. Helps you remember things as well. There are different runes for different things." Emma removed her hand from her pockets, releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
"Are we all good now?" she asked, "because I really don't want to have to arrest anyone." Jace smirked, lunging over the counter and yanking the cup away from Mr. Gold. As he stood next to Clary, he withdrew his stele, the blade glowing a dull silver out in the open. Handing over the cup to Clary, he place the tip against his arm.
"What are you doing? What is that?" Emma demanded as he began to draw random lines, crossing over the white scars and some other runes he already had. Some were faded, having been used until they were no longer useful.
"Throwing up a glamour," he said, "although it won't be as glamorous as me, I'm afraid." Clairy snorted, her knuckles turning white as she clutched the golden cup.
"You are so full of it," she commented.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Jace commented, withdrawing the blade as he finished drawing a large black rune on his arm, "and I'm not so sure this is how you're supposed to throw up a glamour, seeing as I wasn't really paying attention in class-"
"Wait, what's a glamour?" Emma asked, but they ignored her.
"No need to explain," Jace said, sending her a megawatt smile, "you won't really remember most of it once we leave anyway." Clary grabbed Jace's hand as he slipped the stele back into his pocket, Jace winking at Emma over his shoulder as they exited the shop.