~Mr. Gold's Wild Swan~

By Snapegirlkmf & CJ Moliere

A tale of the Enchanted Forest

1

The Attorney's Bargain

Judge Alastair MacLean leaned back in his high-backed red-velvet padded chair behind his finely crafted oak desk and studied his public defender, a well-respected attorney-at-law, called Rumplestiltskin Gold. Mr. Gold was known for his rapier wit, keen judge of character, and knowledge of the laws of the kingdom. He was also known to be one of the most impartial attorneys that the town of Silver Falls had ever spawned, and it was said that no one ever broke a deal, or failed to speak the truth with Mr. Gold. Rumple was a slight man of medium height, with floofy brown hair slightly touched with silver at the temples, that just brushed the high collar of his lawyer's red robe. Beneath the robe he wore a fine tunic of butter yellow and soft fawn breeches and tooled brown leather boots. The attorney leaned slightly upon his gold-handled ebony cane, which he needed to support his lame left leg.

Said leg had been injured long ago, when Gold had served in the cavalry as a commander of light horse, during the last Ogre Wars, and that had resulted in resigning his commission, after being decorated for saving an encampment of thousands of captive children. He then decided to take up studying the law and became an attorney like his grandfather, Judge Tiresias.

Judge Alastair eyed the younger man thoughtfully. "Councilor Gold, I don't believe it is wise to release Miss Swan into your custody at this time."

"With all due respect, Your Honor, I believe that it would be cruel and inhumane to have the child stay here over the holiday season. Yule is in two days and you want the girl to spend it in a freezing jail cell, alone with a stale hunk of bread and cheese?" Gold objected, using his most persuasive manner.

The judge sighed. "Rumple, why would you inflict a known convict upon your family during the holiday season? I know you feel sorry for the young woman, but she's a thief and the woman of a stagecoach robber. The gods know what else she's done as a member of Hook's gang!"

"Your Honor, we don't know that she's done anything except for the crime she's been accused of, which is possession of stolen jewelry and a saddle horse. To accuse her without proof is unfair," Rumple argued.

Alastair sighed. "Rumple, I've known a thousand young women like Emma Swan. She might seem to be a little bit of a thing, but the fact remains she admitted to aiding and abetting Killian Jones, whom she declares is her paramour. And while she may be a thief, he is wanted for murder in seven towns up and down the Forest Road. Not to mention the trail of robberies from eight stages this season alone and the rape of innocent travelers. There's a price on his head of five thousand gold florins, dead or alive!"

"I am aware of that, Your Honor, but 'tis not Hook I am having as a guest in my home."

"No, but she's a spitfire of a convict," objected Alastair. "You could find yourself robbed blind, perhaps murdered in your bed, Rumple!"

"And she could find herself on the end of a rope," countered the attorney. "Your Honor, I am aware of my client's . . . proclivities. And rest assured that I have taken the proper precautions to secure our valuables."

"What of Belle? What has she to say of your folly, Councilor?"

"My wife is as kind and gracious as always," responded Gold. "She has agreed to open our home and welcome the girl for the Yule holiday. She believes, as do I, that no one, not even an alleged thief, should be alone for the holidays. Miss Swan has no family, Judge MacLean. She's an orphan."

Alastair groaned. "Your sense of compassion, Mr. Gold, may one day be your undoing."

"Will you release her to me, Your Honor?" Rumple pressed, his brilliant sienna eyes gleaming with the light of battle. He sensed he had the judge over a barrel.

"I shouldn't. For the sake of your grandfather, who was one of the finest judges ever to sit the bench, I should deny this crazy request of yours," MacLean began, shaking his grizzled head. MacLean was in his late seventies, the oldest judge still serving the crown in Silver Falls.

"Your Honor, I pledge upon my House and my reputation as a crown attorney that I shall ensure that Emma Swan does not escape and remains a guest in my home until the holidays end, at which time we shall return for the trial."

"Your word has always been your bond, Councilor," allowed MacLean. "Yet I fear you've bitten off more than you can chew this time. I'll wager you'll regret ever removing that little spitfire from my jail."

"I'll wager you a pouch of fine Arcadian tobacco that you're wrong, Your Honor," Rumple offered, knowing full well how much MacLean loved his pipe of an evening and the finest tobacco to smoke in it. "Have we got a deal, sir?"

MacLean accepted his handclasp. "You've got a deal, Rumple. Just don't say I didn't warn you. Emma Swan is trouble's daughter, or my name isn't Alastair MacLean."

Rumple said nothing, but he thought that even trouble's daughter deserved a nice holiday. After he had paid the necessary fee to the court which would allow him to take Miss Swan into his custody for the fortnight of the Yule holiday, he strode down the cell block accompanied by a guard to the cell allotted to one Emma Swan, sixteen-year-old thief, orphan, and the spitfire who claimed the notorious robber Hook was her beau.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Emma Swan had been in plenty of scrapes in her sixteen years, but none, she reflected morosely, as bad as the predicament she was currently in. Even in the Morningside Orphanage, under the thumb of the strict Sister Agatha, Emma had never been as desperate as she was now. At least in the orphanage she could hide from the wrath of the holy sister or the sneers and laughter of the other orphans, who called her Sticky Fingers and Gallows Bait because she could nick the whiskers off Max the cat.

"Someday, ye little hooligan, ye'll meet a bad end dancing a jig on the end of the Tipperary Tree," Sister Agatha used to prophetize in dire tones whenever she glanced at the blond-haired waif across the supper table. "Ye're a bad seed, Emma Swan, jus' like the scoundrel what dumped ye on the doorstep eight years gone!"

Emma had no memory of her parents, and so no way to tell Agatha she was mistaken about the man who had given her life, whoever he was. Plainly he hadn't cared anymore about her than the good sister did, for he had left her in a woven reed basket with a crocheted blanket with her name on it as a mere three-month old baby. Rumor had it he was an outlaw, a wanted man, and he had gotten rid of the burden of the baby his leman had presented him with as quickly as he could. Sister Agatha claimed it had to be a ne'er-do-well that had sired her, for she had clearly inherited her outlaw father's quick hands and penchant for swiping things.

Even as a child she had usually fast reflexes and her innocent wide blue-eyed gaze could melt the most suspicious of merchants, enabling her to filch sweets or small bangles, hair ribbons, and toys for the children of the orphanage, which she used as bargaining chips to earn herself a day free of chores, an extra portion of bread and butter or dessert, or a coveted extra blanket during the winter when the wind screamed through the chinks in the dormitory wall like a lost soul. She had learned quickly that the only one who would look out for her was herself, and she trusted no one to have her best interests at heart.

Until she had run away after discovering that Sister Agatha was going to sell her indenture papers to the temple of the Righteous and Just god Sobekka, where she would spend her youth scrubbing floors, carrying water, and cleaning latrines under a vow of silence, poverty, and chastity. The very idea of doing so filled her with horror and she had packed up that very night and fled with nothing but the clothes on her back—a set of boy's breeches, shirt, and a good wool red cloak she had stolen from the donation bin, a few coppers, her baby blanket, and some bread, cheese, and meat pies she had snatched from the larder.

She had never looked back.

Until now, when she shivered upon the thin straw pallet in her cell, clutching her now ragged red cloak about her as well as the musty thin woolen brown blanket. The stone of the jail cell was thick and well mortared but it also held the chill of the winter evening that was approaching.

"Killian will come for me," she muttered through chattering teeth, a litany she repeated over and over, though her heart whispered she was a fool to believe so, because in the end everyone abandoned her. Even when they had sworn by the brotherhood of thieves. Even when they had promised to make her richer than the queen and first in his heart.

"He will come for me," she declared, wincing at the sputtering torch in the sconce just beyond the bars.

She had joined Killian Jones, aka Captain Hook for his missing hand and the hook that replaced it, over a year ago, offering her skills as a thief in exchange for his protection. Hook's gang was the strongest in the area, and the bane of every lawman in the eastern forest. Emma was tired of existing on the verge of society, stealing scraps. She wanted more, and the dashing Killian could give her what she needed. At first he had agreed merely to give her a place to sleep and food, and she had to turn over ten percent of her take to him. But soon she noticed he seemed more generous to her than before, giving her better clothes, a larger portion of food, and two flasks of rum. He also seemed to be attracted to her, though why he wanted skinny, ragged Emma Swan was beyond her. Still, she wasn't about to question her good fortune, and she worked hard to prove herself an asset to the gang, bringing in the most loot, and admiring her devilish leader.

She had thought she had finally had it made, until this latest heist had gone wrong and now here she was, locked up on the eve of Yuletide, accused of stealing ten thousand gold florins from the Royal Bank of Silver Falls and a diamond brooch belonging to the Duchess of Westmere, caught redhanded by the law with the goods under her mattress, though she hadn't put them there, Killian had after he had rented her a room and told her to sleep off the night's excesses while he went off to rob the evening stage.

Of course that hadn't mattered when the sheriff and his lawmen had burst into her room and discovered the goods beneath the mattress. Nor had they believed her when she said she had no idea how they had gotten there. She was known as a member of Hook's Jolly Roger gang, right along with Billy Smee, Hook's brother Liam Jones, cousin Davy, Blackbeard, Quick Fingered Jim and the rest. Her moniker had been given to her by Killian—he called her Wild Swan.

Now she was here, in this chill dank cell, having spoken to no one save her guard who brought her food and the attorney the crown had assigned to her, a slender fellow with sharp brown eyes and a cane called Mr. Gold.

The squealing of the hinges to the door at the end of the block caused her to straighten up from hugging her knees to conserve warmth. One good thing about being a member of a notorious gang was she didn't have to share a cell with anyone else. No one wanted to keep company with the wicked Wild Swan.

Killian will come for me, she reminded herself again. His brother Liam enjoyed taunting her when they were alone, reminding her that she would just be another addition to Killian's growing collection of lovers that he used and discarded when the next pretty face came along. She refused to believe he would humiliate her in such a fashion, not after all she'd done for him and their gang.

What...what if they've captured him too...but no! He's not as careless as I am, she thought. After all, he had advised her to move their loot to a less conspicuous location before she went to sleep but she'd been too exhausted thinking she would be able to move them in the morning. She'd only been asleep a few hours when she was shaken awake by the sheriff.

"Ah ha! Look what we have here boys!"

"Wait...what...how...how did that get there!" she cried.

"Don't play innocent with me, girl. We know you're with Hook's crew and they just robbed the bank and made off with the Duchess of Westmere's brooch and right here it is!"

She held the covers against her chest. "No, this is all a mistake! And what kind of man comes into a lady's room unannounced!"

A deputy snorted. "You ain't no lady so git yourself outta that bed. You're comin with us."

"Like hell I will!"

"You'll get up or we'll make you get up!"

"Then I guess you're gonna have to make me because I AM NOT getting out of this bed in front of a bunch of men in just my shift!"

The sheriff and his deputies eagerly accepted the challenge only to be given some rather painful reminders of why the young woman had been given the name 'Wild Swan'" The sheriff would have a permanent scar on his arm after she'd bitten him and his deputies feared their ability to procreate had been hindered by some rather hard kicks to the groin.

Now she was Gold and the judge's problem.

That evening stage...he could steal us enough money to buy that ship he wants and we could sail away from this outhouse town.

He even planned on naming the ship the Jolly Roger. He told her he'd once been a sailor with the royal army but never gave a reason for his untimely dismissal. She never dared to ask Liam about it, he never gave her an honest answer about anything.

"Hello, Emma."

"Mr. Gold?"

"Yes." He motioned and the guard stepped forward holding the key to her cell.

"Has someone come for me?" she asked hopefully.

"If you're referring to Mr. Jones, I'm afraid not, dearie."

"Then what..."

"A cold cell is no place a girl your age should spend her Yuletide."

"Yeah, well, tell that to the sheriff. He'd probably rather see my head in the noose."

"You will not be hanged," he said determinedly.

"I got caught with the goods, that's as good as a confession."

"What if I were to offer you a better solution to your current predicament?"

"You want me to be the canary bird and sing for you...sorry, Gold. I'm no snitch!"

"What I am offering is that you spend Yuletide in my home."

Her mouth dropped open. "You lose your brains somewhere, Mr. Gold? You want ME to stay with YOU in YOUR house. Afraid I'm gonna make off with the wife's jewelry while you sleep?"

"No, I'm not."

"Should be. Any sane person would be."

"No. What I am doing is investing in your future."

"Some future. They're gonna throw the book at me and this cell's gonna be my home for the rest of my life, if I don't go to the gallows first or..."

Killian comes for me and we sail off together, just like he promised.

"Emma, as much as you want him to, Killian Jones will not come for you."

She glared at him through the bars. "You know something, don't you? Tell me! Tell me!" she insisted, pounding on the bars.

"I don't know where Mr. Jones is. I do know that the evening stage was robbed this evening..."

Oh I bet that was quite the haul...Jolly Roger, you're almost ours...

"..And that the culprits are still at large," he added.

"Yes..."

"Mr Jones is wanted dead or alive, Emma. The man driving the stage was killed."

"No...you're lying! Killian doesn't kill people! You're making that up so I'll go with you but I won't!"

"Tis not the first murder he's wanted for," Rumple went on. He was not enjoying shattering the young girl's image of her benefactor knowing the pain it caused her but he only had her best interests at heart and spending the rest of her life in the company of a wanted rapist and murderer was not the future he wanted for her.

"Stop it, stop it! I don't wanna hear it!" she screamed and covered her ears. He motioned to the guard. He unlocked the door, shaking his head.

"Might as well talk to the wall, Mister Gold. She's not gonna listen to ya."

Rumple leaned against the wall, his hands gripping the handle of his cane, waiting patiently.

"Why are you still here? Go away you lying rat!"

He pulled her hands away from her ears. "You need to listen to me and listen well," he said firmly in the same voice he always used when giving his children Bae and Aurelia a sound scolding. "The judge would have you spend the Yuletide alone in this cold cell with stale bread, rotting cheese and only the rats to keep you company. I am offering you a warm home with good food and pleasant company. Isn't that what you've always wanted in life, dearie?" he asked gently.

"Yes..." she whispered.

"You will want for nothing in my home as long as you behave yourself and put aside any foolish dreams of sailing off with a man who would abandon you...and has at the first sign of trouble."

Don't have much of choice do you, Swan.

Killian will...

Killian IS NOT gonna come for you. If what Gold says is true he's taken the loot and taken off not giving you a second thought.

Time to stop daydreaming. You gotta look out for yourself like you always have.

"All right, Mr. Gold," she sighed. "I'll….I'll go with you but your family…."

"They will treat you with the same respect as any other guest in our home."

She would believe that when she saw it.

Once they were outside, Rumple stopped to pet a bay stallion waiting impatiently for him. The horse's bright red coat with black stockings, mane, tail, and muzzle glistened in the waning afternoon sunset. "His name is Victorious," he explained. "His father was the first horse I rode as a cavalry officer."

"He...he's beautiful," she murmured.

"Would you like to pet him, dearie?"

"Will he mind...umm...?"

"Oh, he won't mind. Go on."

She stroked his mane tenderly, the horse nuzzling her palm.

"See. He likes you."

""I guess he does," she said softly.

"Come along, Victorious. We have to get Emma a ride too. Have you ridden before?"

"Yeah..."

Usually to a quick getaway, she thought.

"It's not a long ride to my home, three miles."

They stopped off at the livery and purchased a white mare for Emma named Starlight that seemed to take to her right away.

Rumple watched the young girl with her new companion, nodding to himself. Emma Swan was a girl who had been dealt a terrible hand in life but he was determined to change that come hell or high water.

The stallion followed obediently at Gold's heels like a dog, having been trained to do so by his master. He would also remain stock still if Gold placed his reins on the ground, and kneel so the disabled attorney could mount without need of assistance. Gold had also trained him to come when he whistled a specific three note call, which was cavalry mount's call to battle, something which he only used in case of an emergency. Victorious had never been to war, but he was as highly trained as any horse that had served, for Rumple had taught him all the skills he had his sire, Sultan.

Gold tapped Victorious lightly and the horse knelt so the attorney could mount, sticking his cane in the leather holder on his saddle before he mounted.

"He's very . . . err . . . accommodating about your leg, sir," Emma observed diffidently.

Gold chuckled. "That he is, lass. But even with this gimpy leg I can still ride."

"How did you hurt it?" she queried artlessly.

"During the war. I was guarding a wagon of medical supplies and another full of refugee children when the ogres overran our position. An ogre with a mallet shattered my ankle as I attempted to get the children to safety."

"Did you have a family then?"

"No. This was before I met my wife, Belle. I was only twenty, this was my first command. I'd been promoted fresh out of the academy because of my riding ability and my ability to see patterns and strategies. Also because I could get soldiers to follow me without using fear as an encouragement," Gold replied modestly.

"When did you meet Belle? I'm sorry if I'm being ummm...nosy."

"After I was injured, I was mustered out on an honorable discharge, decorated for bravery, and left to molder away at my ancestral manor, Rose Heart Cottage. I was bored out of my skull, dearie, and didn't know what to do with myself. Until one day I went into town to listen to a court case . . . and it was then that I decided to follow in the footsteps of my grandfather and become an attorney."

"Was she in court for something?"

Gold smiled. "I was still a clerk and studying for my bar when I met her. She was the daughter of a poor professor, Maurice, who taught innovative designs that weren't exactly . . . ah . . . approved by the education bureau. So he had few students and Belle had to end up tutoring the local lord's children to make ends meet. I met her one day on the way to work, she was carrying a bunch of books and we bumped into each other . . ." He smiled reminiscently, lost in that memory.

Emma giggled. "Was she mad?"

"Oh no. She was worried she'd injured me but we got to talking and realized we had a lot in common." He chuckled. "I was almost late for work because we'd been chatting so long. After that we would meet each other for lunch and she started helping me study. I decided I would ask her to marry me as soon as I passed the bar."

"Didn't people gossip?"

"If they did, we didn't care. The day I passed the bar she and her father held a little surprise party for me and I did propose to her with my mother's engagement ring."

"Why didn't you get her a new one?"

"Because I promised my mother that I would give her ring to the woman I would marry and I never break deals. Belle adored it."

"She sounds like a great lady."

"She is. You'll learn a lot from her and my daughter Aurelia will love the idea of having another girl in the house to talk to."

"She's probably smart like her mama."

"She is," he said proudly.

And will probably think you're an idiot, Emma thought, feeling more insecure as she listened to Gold talking about his children. His son's name was Bae, he was Emma's age and he was already showing interest in becoming a soldier like his father while his daughter wanted to practice law and become the first female attorney in the town. She only wished she'd had parents that could've spoken about her which such love and devotion as Mr. Gold did for his children.

"You really think a woman can do some of the jobs a man can?"

"I certainly do."

And you can be so much more than a petty thief, Emma Swan, if you let me guide you.

"Do you think….I can be one of those women…?"

"That's up to you Emma. The question you need to ask yourself is DO you want to be one of those women? You won't know unless you try. You're a survivor, Emma Swan, and that survival instinct you have can be used to get you out of this life that's brought you nothing but trouble."

He was relieved that she hadn't mentioned Jones once during the journey, little good it would do her. Had the poor girl not been caught, there was little doubt in Gold's mind that she would become just another one of Jones' victims, violated and discarded like rubbish.

Emma's knees knocked as they approached the two-story manor house at the end of the road with herringbone brickwork, hand cut stone and hand milled mahogany trim surrounded by red rose bushes with a large marble fountain in the center.

In the distance, she could see a small pasture and stables, a tall boy she assumed to be Mr. Gold's son riding down the road to meet them on a black stallion, a woman Emma presumed to be his wife Belle and a young girl holding her hand walking behind him. She gulped nervously and gripped Starlight's reins. The horse brushed its nose against her cheek as if to say, don't worry Mistress….I'm here with you.

"Well Emma, are you ready to meet my family?"

As ready as I'm gonna get.

And in the back of her mind a plan began to form, a plan for escape should she feel the need to use it.