A/N: This started as a I'm-sick-in-bed drabble inspired by a post from write-it-motherfuckers. I have no planned updating schedule for this, but will be posting sections as the muse provides them. Much love to ilovemesomekillianjones for being my fabulous beta!
The people in the village thought her insane for purchasing the cottage; not that they didn't already think her insane. She'd always been one step off of the norm, keeping to herself for the most part and seeing the world through a lens no one else seemed to be interested in viewing. A lens that let her see the cottage in a way that, perhaps, no other ever had before. Situated right on the edge of the forest, the quaint little cottage had been empty for quite some time, and for good reason.
No one dared go near the forest.
Everyone knew of the dark creatures that were rumored to lurk there, the mystical elements that cast a foreboding veil over every cluster of trees, every sweeping branch and quivering leaf. The forest was quiet in the way fear was quiet. A silence one felt in their bones as it thundered in their ears from the pounding of their heart. Entering the forest was something even the brave dared not consider in order to boast of. No one in the village had ever set foot beyond the tree line, nor had she, but the forest had never affected her as it had the other villagers.
To Emma Swan, the quiet of the forest wasn't that of fear, but of tranquility. She felt no foreboding in the way the trees swayed, even on windless days, or the shrouds of fog that collected along its floor. In the swirls of mist she saw the beauty of refracted sunlight as it streamed through the canopy above, in the same way she found intrigue in the chitters and snaps that sounded from its depths, though no animal had ever made itself known.
Emma was fascinated by the forest, always had been, but had never set foot across its border. She had enough prejudice against her from the village as it was, and the pull of the pines and sweet berries she could make out from the boundary line wasn't enough to warrant more consternation from her neighbors.
The cottage was, though.
Abandoned homes weren't unusual in their village. People took any opportunity they could to leave the area, even if that opportunity required that they do so at a moment's notice. Not all vacancies were due to the promise of better, brighter futures, though. Some folks simply… vanished. Like those who had once inhabited the cottage.
It had taken Emma years to save up the funds required to purchase the cottage from the village elders; even if it was priced far below its value, given its location. They had tried to dissuade her, and at one point she'd feared they would flat refuse to sell the property to her, or to anyone else. Asking for a night to consider her proposal, she'd spent those long hours in the gardens of the cottage, wishing and hoping for the council's approval. Envisioning what she would make of the home if she was granted the honor of becoming its newest owner. Not that such a place could ever be owned, not truly. The cottage might fall under the purview of the village borders, but Emma knew, she could sense the truth.
The cottage belonged to the forest.
During those long hours, she hadn't simply cast her dreams to the fates, she'd been petitioning the true powers behind the cottage's proprietorship. Any one passing by would have thought her a crazy person for the way she'd rambled aloud with all her plans for the property, to say nothing of her madness for being so close to the forest at night. Her enthusiasm over the hopeful possibilities her words wove through the atmosphere around her had remained even as her eyes and body became heavy with fatigue. Knowing she hadn't had the energy to trek back to her lodgings within the village proper, Emma had nestled herself onto the moss covered stone bench, located in the back gardens with a perfect view of the forest beyond the garden archway.
Awakening the next morning had been a startling experience. Not because she'd woken up in the garden, and realized she'd spent the whole of the night just yards away from the archway that connected the cottage to the forest, but because… she hadn't. The dingy walls of her hovel had loomed oppressively around her as she attempted to blink away the fog of sleep in order to recall how she'd gotten there. Pulling back her threadbare covers had revealed a layer of warmth, provided by a magnificent coat of black leather, embroidered with fine heavy thread and other embellishments, the likes of which she'd never seen before.
A note was found tucked away in one of the red leather trimmed pockets, which simply read:
You should take greater care, love. The forest can carry quite a chill at night. Something you'll have to mind if you are to be our neighbor.
There was no name to accompany the elegantly scrawled message, no way of knowing who the coat belonged to, and who it was that had carried her back to her bed. No. They couldn't have carried her all that way. It was much too far. Surely, she had been brought by cart or mule? When she held up the fine leather to examine its craftsmanship more closely, the scent of its unique signature filled her sinuses and brought forth a faint memory from the night before. A memory of strong arms cradling her against a hard chest. The contradiction of pine and salt, sea and earth, with notes of leather and masculinity all wrapped her in a blanket of security as a steady gait rocked her back into oblivion. A sharp knock at her door pulled Emma from her memory. Another message was delivered into her hands with the news she'd hoped and prayed for.
The cottage was hers.
No assistance had been offered in transporting her belongings, not that she had many, but it hadn't mattered. Emma's jubilation had made light work of the toil, and once the key had turned in the lock, and the front door swung wide for the first time in decades, any sense of lacking she may have felt was quickly dismissed by the impossible wealth of possessions that greeted her.
Emma stood just outside the threshold of her new home, slack jawed with wide eyes at the sight before her. Furnishings of stunning quality, with no evidence of any decay from the passage of time they had to have endured, filled the cottage. Lush carpets covered the stone floors. A comfortable settee sat in front of the fireplace, flanked by chairs upholstered in the same soft yet sturdy fabric. Not a speck of dust could be seen, not a piece of debris or corner cobweb defaced the property. Despite the distinct lack of staleness in the air, Emma wasted no time throwing open the large windows at the back of the house and swinging the back door as wide as the front to allow the breeze from the forest entrance.
Each room offered new gifts. Items of fine quality and craftsmanship - without being ill placed in the quiet humility of the cottage - decorated every corner of her home. Emma couldn't help but laugh and spin about in her excitement, a smile she'd only ever worn in correlation with the cottage adorned her lips before she caught the lower one between her teeth.
Who could have done this?
A gust swept through from the back of the house, forcing a previously overlooked folded piece of parchment from the mantle. It fluttered on the swirling breeze before falling open when it came to rest on the floor in front of the hearth. Emma could see the same elegant scrawl that had penned the previous note flowed upon it. With trembling hands, whether from the adrenaline of excitement or something else, she couldn't say, she lifted the missive from the floor.
I felt a housewarming gift was in order. I hope you find everything to your liking, but if not, please feel free to place whatever might displease you on the bench in the back gardens, and it shall be removed from the premise for you.
Welcome home, love. I hope you'll be happy here.
A word of advice, though… Best to not enter the forest through the archway, or stray too close to it at night.
Affectionately,
Your New Neighbor
