Milah had not wanted to be married to Rumplestiltskin...not really. When she was a girl, she had dreamed of courting, of knights and princes, like most girls did. She dreamed of a rich man that would take her away from her village. She was destined for greater things; she just lacked the status or funds to be so.
She wasn't the one who had set up her marriage. His foster mothers had gone to her parents to suggest it. It was an audacious thing, marrying the orphaned son of a coward who made his living doing work suited for women. But the other men were too old, too young, or too stupid. None of them were rich or destined for great things.
So she took the spinner, and he was kind enough, if a little shy. He at least never tried to force his husbandly duties on her and he was patient too, which was a plus. Milah had had no siblings and her father wanted a boy. She'd been used for men's work more than women's, so she didn't know much about stitches or clothes. Her mother had taken care of all that and just assumed that Milah had picked up on it as well.
But Milah didn't, so it was up to her husband to teach her. He had to be patient for her to understand. She'd be used to plows and axes, not needles and string. It was something that she continued to learn as they grew older.
She didn't have children to fuss after. They never had the means to afford another mouth to feed. She brought in money the way she did, and he brought in money the way he did and slowly, slowly they made ends meet for themselves. It was hard; they said he had cowards blood and that ran deep. Some wouldn't use his services. Some mocked that she helped with physical labor. Milah ignored it. Her not staying inside chasing after children was something that never bothered her. Not truly.
Then the war came, and things were harder. Refugees and deserters moved through the villages; bartering, begging, and outright robbing in some instances. They saw their fair share of those that came through. The elders advised them to open their homes. Milah and Rumplestiltskin didn't. Her reasoning was that they couldn't afford to take someone in; Rumplestiltskin's was that he feared the soldiers wouldn't behave themselves with her. Milah never expected them to have to worry much. The war couldn't possibly reach them. Not in the distance.
But it did. And her husband was drafted. Milah had worried. She was…fond of him. She thought she loved him in her own little way in the years they'd been married. She didn't want to lose him.
They'd spent one last night together before he left. But something had gone wrong. Perhaps the herbs hadn't been mixed right because Milah found herself carrying his child, a child that drained her and a double workload to worry about. Refugees flooded in; she even got robbed once when she was helping out in the fields.
As she grew more heavily pregnant, she kept to the house. She took up more of her husband's work to make ends meet. She thought people were whispering behind her back, but she ignored it like she always did. That was…until the whispers reached her ears. Her husband injured himself to get out of battle they said. He was a coward they said. His child would be one too.
She didn't let it bother her. She had other things to worry about.
Her son was born; she named him Baelfire, after her grandfather. He had been a mighty warrior but Milah didn't know if those stories were true or exaggerated. He died before she met him.
She didn't name him after his father. If everyone judged him a coward then they would judge her son as a coward as well for carrying his name. She didn't want that for him.
Besides, the war was a slaughter. Milah knew that he had little chance of coming back.
But he did. And the tales that she heard, that she and her child were judged for, were true. He had injured himself to avoid his duty.
That night he returned, she said things that she shouldn't have. And that night she regretted them. But the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, and she suffered. Not only was her husband a coward, but he was a coward that came home when so many didn't. And he was a cripple; he couldn't defend against the trouble that came with war.
So she was put through the abuse. There were those that hated her family, but they couldn't deal with the guilt of tearing down a cripple, so they tore her down. Business dried up, people mocked her and spit at her on the streets. Baelfire was the only reason they weren't completely starving. No one wanted to make a child go hungry so they were given the barest jobs.
Word of his cowardice spread; it was harder to sell in bigger towns and they came home from journeys with the money already spent. She wanted to leave the village; this was fate, this was time. They could be travelers and see the world like she'd always wanted to do. But Rumple refused. Her practical husband reminded her that moving was next to impossible with a crippled husband and a child. They'd have to abandon their livelihood in a war torn landscape. They would definitely starve out there or worse. Highwaymen were rampant; it was hard to just leave the village for a walk.
It wasn't practical to stay here either, but the conundrum was always the same. What choice did they have? It was the same problem it always was. She wanted to leave, but they had neither the means nor the status to do so.
And as the taunts grew, the whispers continued, the wish to leave crept up on her like a sickness. And she started drinking to get rid of the depression. She got mean when she got drunk, but it was the only thing that alleviated the feeling of helplessness. She couldn't focus on her starving lonely son. She couldn't focus on her cowardly crippled husband. It was all reminders.
And then Killian came. He was young, handsome and charming. He paid attention to her and made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. He didn't see the wife of a coward, or the mother of a future coward. He told her stories and more importantly, he gave her a way out. A way that didn't need status or riches. It was wrong, and she knew it when she made the decision. Her husband asked her to try, and she had tried. But there was no leaving the town in a way that would guarantee them a life. And she couldn't do it anymore, she just couldn't.
He was supposed to be a means of escape, and maybe he thought of her as a fling at the time they'd meet. And Milah was alright with that, as long as she got out. She had no idea what Killian told her husband when….if….he knew what she did.
Maybe Milah should've said goodbye. But she couldn't face them. She would stay if she did. In some ways, she was a coward as well.
But she couldn't be a wife and mother. Not in that environment. She'd tried and they were all miserable.
So she got her life of freedom. She and Killian fell in love. They had their adventures while sticking it to the society that rejected them. But she always quietly regretted what she'd done and how she'd done it. She suggested to Killian that maybe they could go back for Baelfire when he was old enough, but she never really believed it. Not even she was stupid enough to believe she could face up to him and what she did after all those years.
Years later new rumors reached her ear about her husband. They said that the recruiters came for Bae; the war still went on in that part of the world. They said he killed the Dark One to take his power and he was as bad as the being before him if not worse.
They said he killed Bae. One day he was there and the next, he wasn't. Anyone that asked wasn't seen again.
Milah hoped the rumors weren't true. The war was ended by Rumple, why would he kill their son if he saved everyone? She refused to believe them, and she continued working. Then one day, near the borders, they accidentally crossed him. They hadn't meant to; they'd made sure to try and stay out of his way. But a little collector had a big mouth and had yammered about a bean that he could sell and how he had a very rich client lined up. So they stole him first; they took the bean. They intended to make the profit.
But the client was her husband. And he was after Killian for something Killian said years ago that she didn't even know about. He told her to stay away. He'd face his punishment but he couldn't let the Dark One see her. If he did, whatever Killian had told him would come crashing down and endanger her too.
But since when had she ever listened? She went to confront Rumple, and seeing him again….changed as he was, she couldn't believe it. Had he destroyed himself to stop the war? Was this his punishment for whatever he'd done? Was he truly cursed?
The plan was ruined, but she was glad she went; it saved Killian. For a time at least.
They bargained for their lives. The bean in exchange for their survival. What he wanted the bean for, Milah didn't know; she was more concerned about her husband's hand being buried in her lover's chest. She didn't ask about Baelfire; she didn't want the rumors to be proven true again. He didn't even bring him up.
It was supposed to be a simple exchange, but things soured quickly. He finally asked something about their son; he grew angry. She grew angry as well. She didn't remember what she said…and everything that followed the exchange was a blur. She knew that she had shown him the bean in her hand and kept it clenched into a fist afterwards. She knew that whatever she said had infuriated him. There was a flash of movement and then pain.
Seconds later her hand was on the ground. She was still in shock as he bent down to pick it up, tuck it away as though it were just the bean itself.
There'd be nothing in the palm if that was his intent. She'd slipped the bean in her pocket earlier when he'd been distracted. That hardly mattered at the moment though. She was on the deck holding her bleeding stump.
She lost her hand. She lost her hand. She. Lost. Her. Hand.
Killian rushed forward to protect her. It was his last mistake. She didn't see the actual act but she looked up and Killian's heart was in Rumplestiltskin's hand. She didn't make the connection at first until he squeezed, reducing the heart to ash.
Killian fell, and the life she had coveted for so long was ruined.
Her husband wasn't the only one crippled now.
"I'll kill you," she hissed, fumbling behind her for the nearest weapon. The first thing she felt was a spare hook for the rigging.
"You can't. Not now, not ever," he mocked her.
"I've killed things a lot older than you," she snarled, trying to get to her feet. She wasn't sure if it was the blood loss or the lack of a hand that made her unsteady, "I will find a way."
"Well good luck living long enough," he said before disappearing in a cloud of purple smoke before she could even attack.
She would though. She'd survive by sheer will. She'd hurt people to get to where she needed to go, but that was alright. Milah made peace with the fact that she was not a good person a long time ago.
She had a bean and a destination, one that Killian had told her about as they had looked up at the stars, snug between the railing and her true love. They went there after they buried him at sea, while Milah fashioned an appendage out of the spare hook to replace her lost hand.
A place called Neverland.
A/N: This was something that me and my co-writer tried out for fun. It is in no way an attempt to disparage certain characters that we've shown affection for in plenty of our other works. We ask very nicely that you don't fill the reviews with character bashing of any kind.