A/N: This story takes place at the end of Season 1, Episode 8: "Desperate Souls." I've been working on this ever since that episode and just finally decided to divide it out in to chapters and post it. For that reason, some of the current episodes may not apply even though it follows the basic story lines. I am going back to add some of them in, but not necessarily all of them. I hope you enjoy this tale and thank you for reading.
The Golden Rule
Chapter 1
The spring breeze blew silently across the fresh bedewed grass, lightly rustling the trees as the sun peeked through the leaves. The meadow was quiet as always in the early dawn; save for the babbling brook and sweet song of the morning thrush.
The lovely tune soon became a duet as a young woman crossed the stones in the stream; humming with a basket in hand. She made her way through the empty field to where the grove of trees marked the border to the woods. Extending a slender hand and standing on the tips of her toes, the girl carefully picked a few ripe apples off the lower branches before moving to the honeysuckle bush and gingerly placing the flowers in her basket.
She made her way down the line of trees to the small waterfall that was the start of the stream; kneeling in the soft grass to rinse the apples under the cascading water. A faint glimmer caught her eye as she looked in to the shallow depths.
There, amongst the pebbles and rocks, laid a pink gem embedded in the stony floor. The maiden carefully removed the jewel and examined its smooth but slightly rigid, oval shape. Admiring its color and shine, she put the gem into the bottom of the basket and dried her hands on her cream colored dress. Brushing back her thick ebony hair, the maiden hoisted up the basket for the last time and passed back over the creek.
The mill was particularly busy today; workers bustling about as the scent of flour began to overtake the crowded space. A haze slightly blurred the air as dust particles from the grain dispelled into the grinders; thundering loud enough to overtake almost all other sound.
"Father?" A young woman's voice called as she entered through one of the open doorways.
"Father?" she called again, squinting her eyes through the cloud of flour that erupted in front of her. Having no luck, she approached the nearest worker and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. "Excuse me sir, have you seen my father?"
The man turned to her, dusting his pale clothes which were even whiter from the flour, then wiped his sweating brow with the back of his sleeve. He pointed up the stairwell to the highest floor of the mill.
"Thank you," she replied pleasantly, reaching in to her basket and retrieving an apple. She handed it to the man before making her way up the stairs.
"Bless you, m'lady!" the man shouted over the roar of the grinder.
Reaching the top of the steps, she walked over the creaking floor boards to a middle-aged man dressed in the same manner as the others. He was carefully reading over a long piece of parchment that he held in his calloused hands. His concentrating eyes had a tiredness in them; work and fatigue lined his face, aging him much more than it should have.
The young woman gripped the basket handle with both hands.
"Father?"
The man looked up, a smile gracing his features. All evidence of his weathering seemed to vanish as he looked upon his only daughter.
"Arianna."
"I brought you some food," she explained, setting the basket on the nearest table.
"You don't have to do that sweetheart," he replied; his voice sounded parched.
"Remember what the doctor said." she poured some water from a lidded jar in to a small cup and handed it to him before proceeding to remove the rest of the contents of the basket.
"You're supposed to take rests to not strain yourself or your condition will worsen."
"Oh, it's nothing to worry about," he replied flippantly.
"Yes it is. You should know better." She scolded, cutting one of the apples in to slices.
"I'll live to be a hundred thanks to your luck."
Arianna motioned for him to take the apple crescents. "Care and diligence bring luck father, not me."
He took a bite from the fruit. "I never had a scrap of luck my entire life until after you were born. And I worked much harder in my younger years than I do now," he argued, reaching for the cup of water.
"Oh, I almost forgot," she reached back in to the basket and pulled out the red and yellow flower, "The first flowers of the season started blooming."
His eyes lit up. "What did I tell you," he eagerly took the plant from her, "you do give me the greatest luck to find my favorite spring treat."
Arianna shook her head in disbelief but decided not to debate the subject again.
A sudden noise outside caught her attention, making her turn her head to look out the glassless window. She immediately took note of the woman down below who was beginning to stir up a racket.
Following her gaze, the miller gave a low sigh. "Would you help your stepmother, dear? She still isn't accustomed to our kind of work."
"Of course father."
"That's my girl," he replied, kissing her forehead before pushing her lightheartedly towards the stairs, "before she loses her temper."
Arianna hurried down the stairs to the back entrance of the mill, pushing the heavy wooden door open and closing it behind her as she passed the threshold to the outside. She heard the frustrated remarks before she even turned around.
"Hold still you stupid beast!"
A horse gave a loud whinny as it tried to rear its legs to kick away from the reins. The holder gave a frustrated cry as she stood her ground and pulled harder; bringing the reins back behind her shoulder. A flat hand placed on the back of her fisted ones jolted her.
"You shouldn't use so much force." Arianna stated calmly as she took the reins from the others weakening grasp. "You'll frighten the poor creature and he could kick you half way to heaven." She slowly approached the horse and gently brushed the bridge of its nose and mane; speaking in a soft and soothing tone.
"Humph." The woman crossed her arms over her chest; a scowl gracing her features as her eyes flared hard enough to match her rusty auburn hair. She glared at her stepdaughter with great contempt as she watched the horse become pliant enough to even let her put the harness on and attach it to the wagon full of sacks of flour.
Arianna glanced back at the woman who was no more than ten years her senior once the horse was secured. She felt uneasy to be alone with her, but despite their many differences, there was no reason to treat her with any form of spite.
"You'll get the hang of it eventually." She gave a small smile before climbing in to the drivers seat; leaving enough space for the other person.
"Aerona?"
After a moment of silence, the woman let her arms drop stiffly to her sides and strode haughtily to the wagon. With a sweep of her dark skirt she sat herself down in the available space of the seat with her hands folded primly in front of her; head held high with her sharp nose pointed in the air like a spear.
"Well go then, we do not have all day."
Arianna noted the snide tone in her voice but ignored it, snapping the reins as the horse clicked its hooves on the grass before making its way to the dirt path that led in to town.
The newly titled 'Sheriff' Emma Swan briskly walked in to the station. Her steps had a spring to them now; a feeling of pride for conquering one of Regina's battles that even she hadn't expected to win.
However, that enjoyment came to an end as quickly as her footsteps did once she noticed the jacket hanging on the coat rack in the office.
She could hear the clicking of a cane come up behind her, making her close her eyes and wish she was imagining it.
The foreboding sound came to a stop, but was replaced by an even more unwanted voice.
"The Sheriff's jacket. I thought you might want it after all."
Emma bit her lip, preparing herself. "You do know that I'm armed, right?" She asked, turning to face the most feared man in town, and currently, the one she hated the most.
Mr. Gold gave a faint smile, rubbing his thumb over the smooth handle of his cane.
"It's all part of the act, my dear. Political theatre in an actual theater," he stated matter-of-factly.
Emma tilted her head, not quite understanding what he meant, and not sure if she wanted to.
He, of course, was more than happy to explain it.
"I knew no one was going to vote for you unless we gave you some kind of extraordinary quality, and I'm afraid saving old Regina's arse from the fire just wasn't going to do that." He shook his head, moving slowly around the room and looking at the unorganized desk and shelves that were beginning to gather dust. "We had to give you a higher form of bravery. They had to see you defy me."
He looked up at her, meeting her disbelieving gaze.
"And they did."
"No way," she put her hands on her hips, looking down at the floor as if it could reassure her he was wrong. When her eyes returned to him they still refused to acknowledge the truth. "There's no way you planned that."
He folded his hands on his cane, smile growing more ardent at her skepticism. "Everyone's afraid of Regina, but they're more afraid of me." He concluded. "By standing up to me, you won them over. It was the only way."
Emma felt herself receive a mental slap. And it stung.
"You knew I'd agree."
To add to her self-loathing, his expression became mocking.
"Oh yeah," he nodded, "I know how to recognize a desperate soul."
Emma glared at him with resentment. Little did she know, there was a much more destructive rage that was beginning to seethe just a few feet from her.
Regina stood just behind the wall next to the door of the sheriff's office. On her way in, she had noticed Mr. Gold's car and upon her descent down the hallway she began to hear his voice. She stopped to listen to the conversation and found her anger withdraw from Emma Swan, only to refocus on her new target:
Mr. Gold.
"Why did you do this?" Emma asked, voice on the edge of bitterness.
"We made a deal some time back, Miss Swan." He was on the move again, this time coming closer to her. "We established that you owe me a favor. I know that can be a bad feeling - owing someone."
She felt herself tense at his words, but stood her ground as they came face to face.
"Now that you're sheriff, I'm sure we'll find some way for you to pay back what you owe me." He walked passed her and made his way to the door but stopped as though he forgot something.
Mr. Gold turned back, smiling as though he knew something that she didn't.
"Congratulations."
And itt made her want to slap him.
The market place was busy as usual with the hustle and bustle of the morning chores; buying and selling the daily essentials before the best of them were gone. Arianna pulled the reins back as they approached the bakers. She hopped down from the wagon with ease while her stepmother slowly followed; looking distastefully at the dirt that uplifted and now stuck to the hem of her skirt. By the time she was done fussing over it, Arianna had already dropped the back panel of the wagon down and held one of the sacks of flour in her arms. She motioned for Aerona so she could pass it to her but the moment she did, the woman stumbled and almost fell down from the weight of it.
Arianna quickly moved forward and grasped her arm to help her stand straight. "Are you alright?" She asked with true concern in her voice.
"I'm fine!" she snapped, pulling away from her. "How can your father expect us to do this?"
The young girl grew quiet and reached out to take the heavy sack from her. This time, Aerona didn't push her away. She shifted the weight in her arms for a better grasp and turned to the bakery.
"He does enough as is, the least we can do is help. Isn't that what a wife and daughter are supposed to do?"
Aerona glowered at the statement, biting the inside of her cheek. "Let us be quick so we can be done with it." She growled, stomping her way past Arianna to the door. Arianna adjusted the bag once again and followed in after her.
The baker's wife stood behind the counter and smiled as the two entered the shop. Arianna approached the desk counter and placed the bag of flour down. "Good morning. We have the flour you ordered. There's twenty-three more in the wagon." She explained, patting the sack.
"Thank you dear," the woman moved forward from her place while cleaning her hands on her blue apron.
"Little Ari, is that you?" A burly, red faced man came out from the back room. "I swear, you get prettier every time I see you." He commented, looking her over. "How's your father?"
"Very busy with the mill. The doctor told him not to strain himself but as usual, he won't listen."
"Well, he's lucky to have such a beautiful and loving daughter to take care of him. You keep him in good spirits little missy." The baker replied, taking a pouch of coins out from his pocket and counting them. "There we are, that ought to cover it." He put the payment back in the pouch, closing the drawstring and handing it to her. "Flour still outside?"
"Of course it is," Aerona's voice echoed out sharply from the door, "you can at least offer us some assistance taking your goods off our wagon."
The baker gulped at her disapproving stare. "Of course. Wait outside and I'll send my boys to unload it." He made his way back behind the counter beside his wife, picking up the sack already on the table and tucking it under his arm.
"Wish your father well for me, missy." He stated before going in to the back room.
Arianna walked out of the baker's with Aerona following close behind, huffing as she did so until they reached the wagon.
"Arianna dear," she called in a honeyed tone.
The young girl stopped and turned to her, raising an eyebrow.
Her stepmother curled her lips up in a fake smile that, to the untrained eye, would have passed as genuine. "I'm just going to do a little shopping in the market while they unload the wagon."
"But-" the pouch of coins was snatched out of her hand before she barely got a word out.
"Oh don't worry; I'll pick up something nice for you while you watch the horse."
"That's not what I-" but before she could finish, Aerona had already hurried off down the crowded street.
Arianna sighed and patted the horse before sitting down on a bench near the well as two boys not much older than she came out of the bakery. After exchanging pleasantries, the two began unloading the sacks of flour, discouraging her offer to help. Long after they finished, she still remained sitting, waiting for her step mother to return.
A horse suddenly galloped close to her, causing hers to give off a whinny and take a step back.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Arianna."
She looked up at the sound of her name just as the rider planted his clean leather boots on the ground. The man wore a black brocade doublet that fitted perfectly against his frame; held in place by a red satin sash tied at his waist. He tipped his black and white feathered hat to her, his thin mustache and well trimmed beard curving along the smile he flashed.
"My lord Duke," she acknowledged him with a slight bow of her head as she remained seated, "what brings you to the town?"
He rubbed his leather-clad hands together. "Patroling the region to make sure the lives of the people are peaceful and...not tampered with." His tone dropped at the end of his statement but his eyes remained fixated on her.
"How fares the war?" She asked, standing up and checking the latch on the wagon to avoid eye contact. She knew he was a lover of carnage as did everyone else. His particular cruelty to enemies of the crown, any enemy, was infamous.
The corner of his lip twitched in an almost prideful smirk. "The provinces closest to the King are free of war and look as though they'll stay that way for now. However, I wouldn't be surprised if some of those damnable creatures are hiding in the very forest you live so close to my dear." He approached her carefully, much like a snake slithering upon its prey. "I'd hate to hear you were snatched up by them one day. They prey especially on the young and beautiful and I have to say, no other girl in the provinces can hold a candle to your beauty."
His guttural fawning began to grate too closely to her ear. She stepped to the side to get some distance between them before facing him with a forced smile. "For each beauty, there's always someone fairer." She stated matter-of-factly in an attempt to discourage him.
As usual, her efforts proved futile for he merely took another step closer until he loomed over her smaller form. "Ah, but still, you're wasted as a miller's daughter. Much like a flower growing in a patch of mud."
She narrowed her eyes at his comment. "It's the mud that makes the flower grow," she countered, moving around to the front of the wagon with a turn of her heel. He followed after her, grasping her arm with near iron fingers that slowly recoiled in to a firm grasp.
"Arianna," he pressed, "I don't think you quite understand what I am implying."
She looked in to his steely eyes and saw only cold arrogance that chilled her to the marrow. There was a greediness in the way he looked at her; like a spoilt child would his favorite toy that no one else was capable of having.
She refused to be his next.
"Do not think me foolish My Lord," she chose her words carefully, "I understand, but with all due respect," she took a breath, "I must decline your more than gracious offer."
His eyes hardened while his lips upturned in to an unnerving smirk. "Forgive me, but you must be foolish to decline. Moreover, it is not an offer." The iron pressure returned to her arm. "You understand that, don't you?" He drew her closer as if he was preparing his final strike before devouring her whole.
"My Lord!"
The overenthusiastic shout distracted both of them as they glanced at the intruder.
The Duke slowly uncoiled his fingers at the sight of Arianna's stepmother as she dropped the bags in her hands to bow to him as though he were otherworldly.
Arianna took the opportunity to pull out of his grasp and he glared at her for it. "I'm sorry Sir, but if you're implying it is an order, you cannot govern matters of the heart." She declared quietly, hoping he would finally understand.
"You cannot make me feel something that I do not feel."
With that said she turned her back to him and walked past her stepmother. "I'll see you at home. I'm going for a walk."
Arianna could feel the daggers aimed at her retreating form but she continued forward, disappearing from sight.
Aerona scorned the young maiden for what she had done but regained her composure quickly as she directed her attention back to the Duke. "I am so sorry your highness; please forgive my" -she paused on the word- "dear stepdaughter for her rudeness."
"Think nothing of it. She was merely...stating an opinion." He smirked to himself. "And opinions can be changed. Wouldn't you agree, my lady?"
Aerona blushed and tucked a stray strand of her auburn hair back. "Of course, My Lord. Sometimes the right kind of persuasion just needs to be used."
His smile broadened in to a dire grin.
"My thoughts exactly." He raised his hand and flexed the fingers under his gloves. "I would like to discuss something with you. Might you accompany me for a while?" He asked, holding out his hand.
"But of course My Lord," She purred, softly sliding her hand in to his. "Your wish is my command."
"That is good to hear." He grasped her hand and led her away from the populated streets.
"So tell me, how is your husband fairing these days?"
Mr. Gold rather enjoyed his walk out of the Sheriff's Station; strolling down the empty hallway as leisurely as his limp would allow. Though, he really had to suppress the urge to twirl his cane in the air; both an odd and old habit he would've done with unrestrained joy in a past life.
Feeling too accomplished, his high wasn't dispelled even as Regina came in to sight, standing on the pavement just after the stairs. He took his time walking down the stone steps, keeping his composure as he approached the regal rage that he knew was directed at him. He wasn't frightened, no, soul deep, he just wanted to laugh in her pompous and pampered face.
"Good evening, Madame Mayor." He smiled a little too pleasantly. "How are you fairing on this lovely day?"
Her expression didn't change. "Well Mr. Gold, I'm feeling a lot better now."
"Oh, and why is that?" He asked, still unconcerned with her.
A dangerous smile crossed her face. "I believe you already know Mr. Gold."
She brushed past him rather aggressively.
"Enjoy the rest of your evening."
"My Lord...I was not expecting you this week." The miller stated in surprise as the Duke made his way through the main entrance of the mill. Though unannounced, the workers still halted at the man's strong presence; but out of fear instead of reverence.
"Is that a problem?" The Duke asked, swiping his finger across one of the table tops and examining the white powder that clung to his glove.
"Of course not Sir, it's just..." he bit his lip, "I don't have your full payment yet m'lord."
"Oh," he chuckled, "I'm not here to collect banalities." He rubbed his thumb and middle digit together; watching as the gritty powder was further crushed beneath his fingertips with a wicked gleam of enjoyment in his eyes. "No, I have more pressing matters to discuss with you."
Aerona stood in the back, quietly peering behind the door as she listened intently on the conversation.
The miller motioned for the others to go back to work. "What sort of matters m'lord?"
"Your daughter." he replied, now facing him with his full attention. "I noticed she is not yet married, nor betrothed. Correct?"
"No My Lord, she is not. Why do you ask?"
He smiled as if triumphant. "I wish for your daughters' hand. She is of age and I want a strong, beautiful young woman at my side. She is well suited, wouldn't you agree?"
The miller was at a loss for words. "My Lord, you're nearly twice her age..." he stopped himself at the stern glare he received for his words.
"With all due respect M'Lord," he regrouped, "she has no title other than a poor miller's daughter. Surely there are women in court more worthy than mine." He tried to reason.
"Don't be modest good miller; you're daughter shines brighter than any of the king's crown jewels. She is the only one fit to be my wife. I will reward you handsomely of course."
He laid a satchel on the table that nearly spilled over with gold.
"If, you promise her to me."
The old man stood flabbergasted. Never had he seen so much money before. Even if he had saved every scrap of gold he ever made and sold all his worldly possessions, the sum didn't come close.
However, the price of gold was often much more than its worth.
And his daughter could never be bargained for.
"I'm sorry My Lord," he cleared his throat and boldly looked the Duke in the eye, "but my daughter is not for sale. Besides, my daughter is all the wealth I need," he became more daring. "She brings me such good luck, it's as though she could turn mere straw in to pure gold."
Aerona burst from her hiding place, cracking a frighteningly forced smile as her eyes flashed with reserved fury. "Dear husband please! Surely you cannot turn down the Dukes offer!" She clamored, clinging to her husband's arm. "Y-You must think of dear Arianna. She'll never receive another suitor such as the Duke in this lifetime! It's ou-" she quickly caught herself- "her only chance to gain a title and more wealth than can be hoped for!"
The miller shook his head. "No dear, it is not what she wants."
Aerona chuckled nervously, noticing the Duke's souring expression. "B-But Dear," she squeezed his arm tighter, almost pleadingly.
"Is that your answer then?" The Duke suddenly asked; expression unreadable. "Nothing will change your mind?"
The miller nodded without giving it a second thought. "I cannot promise her to someone she does not love," he concluded, "and no one can make her."
The Duke's expression turned spiteful. "We shall see."
With his foreboding statement given, the Duke snatched his satchel up from the table and stormed out of the mill without looking back.
Emma sat behind the Sheriff's desk, elbow propped on the tabletop as she held her head in her hand. She still felt uneasy from her encounter with Mr. Gold just a few minutes before. It was a crappy end to, what had at one point been, a good day in the unpredictable and rather underhanded town called Storybrook.
But when things couldn't seem to get worse, they always did.
"Miss Swan!"
Emma slammed her head on the desk at the sound of the other person she hated in this town.
The mayor came through the door of the office, heels hitting the floor with a sharp stab that nearly matched the daggers in her eyes.
"Don't tell me you're already drunk on the job Miss Swan."
Emma picked her head up. "No, but shouldn't you be addressing me as Sheriff Swan now?" She asked, expression smug.
"Hm." Regina looked around, "You seem to have quite a mess on your hands, I hope you don't intend to treat my town the same way."
Before Emma could counter, she noticed Regina's eyes fall to Grahm's jacket. There was a brief look of regret in her eyes, but it only fueled her rage once she realized it was Gold who gave it to Emma.
Regina looked back at Emma, more determined than ever. "Miss Swan, I'm going to give you your first task as sheriff."
Emma quirked an eyebrow.
The Mayor laid her palms flat on the tabletop, looking Emma straight in the eye with a deathly gleam.
"You're going to arrest Mr. Gold."
Arianna sat at the window sill in her room, eyes focusing intently on the pink gem she had retrieved from the creek. Her fingers carefully twined a silver wire around the stone before pressing it in place and snapping the excess off. She held the new charm up in the dimming sunlight and smiled in satisfaction.
Though that satisfaction quickly turned to dismay at the sound of yelling just beyond the window.
By the time her gaze passed through the glass pane to the origin of the angry shouts, all she managed to see was her stepmother crossing over the grass in a huff as her father, looking less vexed, approached the house.
Arianna fastened a silver chain to the jewel and quickly made her way downstairs with the finished necklace in hand; foot landing on the bottom step just as the miller came through the door.
"Father, is everything all right? I heard shouts and saw Aerona pass the house."
He shook his head, removing his cap and combing his matted hair with his fingers. "It's nothing to worry about sweetheart."
She frowned at the tiredness in his eyes and heavy breaths as he spoke. Something had to have happened, and knowing her stepmother, it could've been anything.
Noticing her concerned and contemplating expression, the miller offered her a smile as he tossed his cap on the nearest chair.
"Oh, what's in your hand?" He asked, seeing the steel chain dangling from her clenched fist.
Arianna blinked, broken from her thoughts as she lifted her hand and opened her palm to reveal the glimmering gem. "I found it in the creek this morning," she explained. "I thought I'd make it in to a necklace and give it to Aerona."
She looked upon the stone and smiled weakly. "I hoped it might make her happy,"
The miller's heart ached at his daughter's benevolence. "Ari, you have such a kind heart. I thank the stars every night that I was lucky enough to be blessed with you. No father could ever have a better daughter." He took the necklace from her and kissed her forehead, clasping the two ends around her neck. "If chance would have you find this, then you should keep it. I bet it's a good luck charm."
"Not this luck business again..." Arianna rolled her eyes but smiled at his words. "Thank you father."
He brushed back her hair and touched her cheek. "You remind me so much of your mother," the miller mused, traces of melancholy briefly appearing as he reminisced his late wife. "I love you, and I don't know what I'd do without you."
Arianna gently placed her hand over his and smiled warmly. "I love you too father, and do not worry, I'm not going anywhere," she assured him.
He kissed her forehead one more time then stepped back. "Well, the sun will be down soon so I better go find your stepmother before it gets too late." He stated, making his way to the door.
"Father?"
His daughter's voice stopped him; making him turn to her in inquiry.
"Please tell me what happened at the mill," she pressed, pursing her lips tentatively as she awaited his response.
The miller hesitated as he looked in to his daughter's worried eyes. He did not want to upset her by telling her about the Duke's persistent proposal and how her stepmother scorned both himself and her for refusing to accept it.
"It's over dear; just promise me that when you finally meet someone you deem worthy of your heart, you give it to him because he loves you for who you are, and nothing else."
Arianna looked at him in surprise, trying to figure out what possessed him to make such a statement.
"I promise."
The miller smiled and walked out the door, locking it behind him.
That was all he needed to hear.
Emma let out a withheld breath. "Excuse me?"
Regina pulled back, straightening the folds on her suit jacket. "Well, I knew you becoming Sheriff was a mistake. All talk and no action. You may put on a brave face, but you can't even back your own ass up"
Emma shot up. "I told the truth in front of everyone, and like I said, I don't have definitive evidence."
"Cut the crap." Regina snapped. "I heard your little chat with him before I walked in."
She grew silent, not sure what to say, but also now fully aware just how pissed off the mayor was.
She wanted blood.
"Still, it's his word against mine. That's not enough to incarcerate him." Emma crossed her arms, gazing momentarily at the jacket he had brought. "I'm pretty sure he knows that too."
Regina scoffed. "Oh please, I saw you the night of the 'accident.' You went to the sidewalk and picked up something. Tell me, where did you rush off to afterwards?"
Emma didn't respond.
Regina tapped her foot impatiently. "Where is it now?"
She looked her in the eye, knowing how she was going to react. "I took it to his shop. To tell him what a coincidence that his flammable lano-something crap just happened to be at the Town Hall where the fire started."
Her expression hardened. "You took the only scrap of proof and brought it back to him?" She screeched.
Emma put her hand up, both as a defense and to try and get her to lower her voice. "It doesn't matter. There's loads of flammable solvents used in construction." She quoted Mr. Gold directly.
"Stop defending him!" Regina pointed her finger at Emma. "You are so stupid considering your previous job. There's his statement, the fact that he walked out when you told everyone it was him, the evidence at the scene of the crime," she counted her list on each digit, "put them all together and you have enough!"
Emma shrugged. "Maybe you would have been a better detective than a mayor."
"Don't patronize me Miss Swan!"
"Then don't patronize me!" She shouted back. "Don't you think I would've done something if I could?"
"Well here's your chance to redeem yourself for your poor choice in allies." Regina stepped closer to Emma. "Tomorrow morning, I want you to go to that bastard's shop and arrest him. You can at least detain him for twenty-four hours. Leave the rest to me. Do you understand Sheriff Swan?"
Emma gave a small nod, still not liking where this was going and, least of all, the fact that she was being put in the middle of it.
"Good."
Regina turned around and strode out of the Sheriff's office, a wicked smile on her face.
A loud rapping at the door resonated through the small house, making Arianna jump and almost drop the plate she was drying. "Who could it be at this hour?" She asked aloud, looking out the window at the darkness.
The harsh, even paced beating began again, making her forehead crease with worry. She placed the plate and towel on the counter and rushed for the door, unlatching the lock and opening it.
Arianna gave a small squeak and stepped back from the King's men that stood barely a foot from her. "C-can I help you?" She asked timidly, gripping the side of the door. "My father isn't home right now."
"Are you the miller's daughter?" The tall armored knight boomed, voice rumbling out from his metal shell.
The young girl shrank back, wishing she could meld in to the strong wooden door. "Yes, what is this about?"
The miller slowly made his way down the dirt road, his livid wife following just behind with her arms folded tightly over her chest. There was a sudden commotion up ahead as he noticed his friends and neighbors rushing out of their houses; others peering just behind windows and doors holding candles.
It only took him a moment to realize whose house they were flocking to.
He picked up his pace and hurried to his home where several of the kings men where fixated. Just as they began to come in to sight, he heard the distressful cry of a young woman before the retreating sound of galloping horses.
He ran.
He ran passed the gathering crowd of people, passed the still lit but empty house with the door swinging ajar, and passed the edge of town to where the forest began.
"Arianna!" He cried out breathlessly, dropping to his knees in exhaustion. He could hear his heart hammering in his head as his brittle frame was wracked with an uncontrollable fit of breathless coughs.
His body and soul were beginning to shatter from the loss of his daughter.
And Aerona stood back to enjoy the show.
Arianna was thrown in to the dark and dilapidated dungeon of the king's castle.
Left to her lonesome in the depressing prison, she brought her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms, the same question repeating itself in her mind: Why?
She remained that way for perhaps an hour before the sound of footsteps echoing on stone roused her from her bleak thoughts. She picked her head up enough to peer through the bars and see the moving flame of a torch come closer to her cell. Her body unfurled from its protective form and moved to the bars that caged her.
"Please! I do not understand why I am here!"
The footsteps came to a halt just beyond her. The figure came down on one knee to be level with her, lowering the torch to illuminate both their faces.
"Lord Duke?" Arianna whispered, grasping the wrought iron bars pleadingly. "I don't understand, what's going on? Why am I in here?"
The man shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Dear Arianna, it pains me to see you like this," he spoke, feigning sympathy. "It would appear your father made a rather...fascinating statement that piqued the King's interest."
She drew back. "What did he say?"
The Duke brushed his gloveless fingers over her clenched ones. "That you could spin straw in to gold."
Arianna gaped at him, perplexed. "You know that isn't true! Why would he say that?"
He shrugged. "Who knows? He may have merely praised you to a foolish high, but the King cannot let it slip. You know the consequence for anyone suspected of magic."
Her eyes widened. "My Lord, you've known my family for years! Please, tell the King my father meant nothing by his words! I have no such talent!" Her voice grew shrill as tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to fall.
The Duke gave a soothing smile, stroking his fingertips against her cheek. "Perhaps I could have a word with his Majesty, and convince him this is all just a misunderstanding."
Arianna's expression brightened at his words. "You will?"
Those guile fingers crept further down her cheek.
"Of course, you just have to say one little word." His smile sharpened as he grasped her chin, inching her face closer to the bars.
Her mind went blank, realizing what he wanted her to say. He was bargaining with her against her life. For everything. To move from one cage in to another. She thought of her father, remembering her word that she wouldn't leave him, but also her promise to give her heart only to someone who was worthy of it.
"Never."
The Duke paused. "Pardon?"
Arianna felt her will strengthen. She ripped herself out of his grasp and stood up, looking down at him in disgust. "I will never marry you, you monster!"
He stood up, slamming his fist against the bars; her only defense from him. "Watch your words you stupid girl," he snarled.
She dismissed his warning, refusing to hold back. "Your words are poison you vile snake!" She clenched her fists, knuckles turning white with red crescents forming in the palm of her hand. "I'd rather die in this dungeon than give myself to you!" She spat, body trembling from her rage.
The Duke fingered the bars with an intense pressure, expression glowering. "That can be arranged."
He pushed himself forcefully from the bars and strode up the stone stairs without looking back.
Arianna wiped the angry tears from her eyes and tried to put on a brave face, despite her fear and sorrow; even when the knights came and brought her to the hall in front of the king.
The monarch studied her speculatively for a moment, though his expression was that of a blank slate. "So...you are the miller's daughter."
Arianna couldn't tell if he was stating a fact or asking for confirmation, but she gave a small nod regardless.
"Your name?" He inquired, aged voice rising in volume.
"Ari-Arianna, you're Majesty," she answered, lowering her head.
He shifted in his throne, leaning further back in to it. "It has been brought to my attention that you can spin straw in to gold. Is this true?" His voice remained languid which unnerved her even more. She could not determine if he was doubtful of the outrageous claim or if he believed it.
"No your Highness, it is a misunderstanding. I beg you; please let me go home, my father needs me." She pleaded, voice meek and beginning to break.
One of the knights approached the King, bowing before handing him a roll of parchment. The King recognized it immediately as the Duke's seal and opened it, reading over the words silently.
His eyebrow arched and he raised a hand to his chin, stroking his short and greying beard as his eyes followed the lines. The room remained silent and unmoving.
Arianna felt as though the very fabric of time and fate stopped weaving; remaining tensed on its spinning loom.
The King finally looked up from the parchment, but only to narrow his eyes down at her. "It would appear you are quite the performer. I almost believed you, but I see your father has become quite a wealthy man within the last few years...unusually so for a peasant. Not only that," he let the paper fall carelessly to his feet, leaning forward in his throne now, "there appears to be a witness to this statement who swears upon its truth."
Arianna gaped. This couldn't be happening. Who on earth was this witness that made such a false claim?
The King signaled for the knight nearest him, whispering an order that would have still been oblivious to her, regardless of her state of mind.
He directed his attention back to the maiden that seemed bolted to the ground. "I'm sure you know the consequence for anyone harboring magic of any form..." He let his sentence hang to gage her response, though it remained frozen in shock.
"However," a greedy gleam came in to his once lifeless eyes. "This is an art which pleases me. There is a room being prepared in which you are to perform your skill. If, you choose instead to perform your crocodile tears," he frowned, "your sentence will be the same as all:"
"Death."
Arianna barely felt the hard metal grasp of the knight's gauntlet on either arm as they dragged her to the stairway of one of the castle towers. Instead of hauling her up the stairs, they forced her through the door beneath the stairwell. She stumbled over the threshold and further slipped on a patch of hay, landing in front of a very old and splintering spinning wheel.
Before she could stand, another knight approached and clasped an iron cuff to her right ankle, connecting the length of the shackles to a large rectangular block of stone that rested in the left corner closest to the door.
The King came in to the doorway once his knights filed out. He looked down upon the frightened maiden without any feeling.
"You have until morning."
With his decree given, the King closed the heavy wooden door himself and locked it, leaving her alone in the tiny, dimly lit room.
The fabric began to fray.
Mr. Gold opened the door to his shop, switching the closed sign to open before shuttng the door behind him. He walked to the counter with his cane, using his free hand to attach his keys back to his belt.
His steps came to an abrupt halt. Something wasn't right.
He looked around the shops' interior carefully, eyes falling on the curtain that blocked the back room.
It wasn't closed all the way.
He limped cautiously to the substitute-door, picking up an antique dagger on his way. Slowly, he stepped through the threshold and hit the light switch. Not seeing any immediate threat in the empty room, he went further in, looking for anything out of place.
However, he didn't have to look randomly. He knew what it would be, and of course, it was missing.
The lanolin Miss Swan had so courteously brought back was not on the table where he had left it.
Not that surprising.
Even less surprising, was the person who awaited him at the door when he returned to the storefront.
"Sheriff Swan, how lovely to see you this morning. How can I help you?"
"For starters, you can put the knife down." She stated, motioning to the dagger that remained in his hand.
"Oh," he looked down at the weapon and dropped it carelessly back on the table. "Don't worry, I'm not very good at knife fighting," he joked.
Emma didn't laugh. "Now, if you would be so kind," She lifted a pair of handcuffs in the air, dangling it in front of her.
He gave a small chuckle. "And what, may I ask, are you arresting me for?"
She lowered the cuffs and snapped them open. "Arson and attempted murder."
Mr. Gold didn't move from his spot. "You're arresting me without any evidence?"
Emma looked at him with an unreadable expression.
"The cameras didn't burn."