Of course, the only character I contributed is Sylvia. The rest I owe completely to Once Upon a Time and especially to Robert Carlyle's extraordinarily simultaneously creepy and fascinating complex character. Here's hoping that Rumpel/Gold is not just Chaotic-Evil, but perhaps has powerful motivations for his manipulations that force us to realize that it is dangerous to get what we wish for.
The Goblin and The Fairy Princess
+ + + + + A Desperate Deal with Mr. Gold
Emma had popped into Granny's Diner for a quick supper. Soup, salad and a half sandwich. Yeah, that would be fine. She sat in the corner booth where she could watch the door, a lesson she had learned during her time as a bounty hunter. Watch the exits. Watch your surroundings.
Ruby had dropped off her usual diet cola and taken the order. Emma looked around the Diner. There was only one other patron, a young woman, probably just abit younger than Emma herself. Very pretty with long, wavy, true ash blond hair and light green eyes. Emma had seen her around before. She usually had beads or flowers or feathers in her hair, like somebody out of the 60's. On several occasions, Emma had admired her ultra-feminine dressing style, flowing, light-weight skirts and tops or simple dresses topped with long aprons; things that Emma's rough and tumble style were not compatible with at all. Emma was used to seeing her at the Diner every morning. She owned the little florist's shop, what was it? Faline's. She delivered the flowers that were put on the tables to the Diner. She was also the one who tended the planters that were all over town outside of different shops. And she regularly donated what she called 'leftover flowers' to the hospital. The mayor was a regular customer and was Dr. Whale. She seemed to be well liked by everyone in town and was usually smiling and pleasant.
But now she was at the Diner at night and she was obviously very upset. She was drinking a beer and crying.
"Ruby," whispered Emma. "Isn't that Sylvia DuBois? She has the little florist's shop? She's always in here for breakfast, delivers your flowers?"
"Yeah, she came in awhile ago. That's her second beer and she doesn't drink," Ruby shook her head. "I don't know what's going on. She's usually really together, really upbeat, really perky. She's been drinking beer and crying since she came in."
Emma sat for a moment torn between respecting someone's privacy and trying to help someone obviously in distress. She chose trying to help someone.
Sylvia didn't seem to notice her when she walked over to the booth and slid in across from her. "Listen, I don't really know you. I have seen you around. I can't help but notice you're having a tough time here. Anything anyone can do?"
Sylvia looked up at her. She had tears rolling down her face; her nose was red from extended sobbing. "I don't think so." She then added, as if by force of years of courtesy training, "Thank you."
Emma sat a moment, and when there was nothing else forthcoming, she took a breath and dove in, "You wanna tell me what the problem is? Can you tell me what the problem is? Maybe I can help. I'm good at helping people with problems."
Sylvia sniffed. "Well, unless you're willing to take out a contract to off somebody, I don't think you can help."
Emma was a little surprised. "You want to have somebody killed?"
"It's the only thing I can think of to get me out of this mess."
Emma had a growing suspicion. There were only two people in town that typically anyone from around here might want to have taken out. She asked, "Is it the Mayor or Mr. Gold?"
Sylvia gave her a thin smile. "Gold." She shrugged. "It's my own fault. I should have never made a deal with him."
Emma sat back and shivered. "You made a deal with Mr. Gold? You must have been pretty desperate."
"Yeah, desperate." Sylvia sniffed, the tears momentarily stopped. "Yeah, why else would anyone make a deal with him?"
She continued. "It's my shop. I probably have one of the few shops in town that he doesn't hold the mortgage on. Hell, it's probably the only one in town he doesn't have in a strangle hold. I took great pride in my independence. He couldn't intimidate me, push me into doing anything I didn't want to do. I was my own woman. Not like we were equals, but I could look him in the eye."
"So what happened?"
"A couple of years ago, one of my refrigeration units started acting up. Getting it repaired was going to cost more than getting it replaced. And it's something I have to have for my business."
Sylvia took another swig of her beer. "Well, I couldn't get the appliance company to finance me because I don't have a credit history. You know the old thing that you can't get credit unless you can prove you don't need it. I went to both banks in town and they both turned me down. I was, as you said, pretty desperate."
"So you turned to Gold."
Sylvia nodded and sat a moment. "Yeah, I went into that gloomy pawn shop of his. Gave me the creeps. It's so dark, nothing could grow in there. He stood behind the counter, just like he was waiting for me to come to him. I swear I could see his eyes glinting, like a big spider." She shuddered. "But I did what I had to do. Showed him my books, my business plan and I asked him for a loan, real professional-like."
"He must have been thrilled, you finally coming to him for a favor."
Sylvia gave a tight laugh. "'Thrilled?' He actually rubbed his hands together, like he was gloating. But he talked so politely. 'Yes princess,' He calls me 'princess,' I don't know why." Sylvia mimicked the Scottish accent. "'Of course, my dear, you may have your loan."
"So that's what did it? Now you can't pay and he's going to take your shop?" asked Emma.
"Oh no, I was too clever to agree to foreclosure if I couldn't pay. I asked for an alternative." The tears started up again and Sylvia began crying again. It took her a moment to pull herself back together.
"What did you offer him?" asked Emma, another suspicion growing in her mind.
"He asked what other collateral I might have. I actually joked and said that I wasn't married or planning on having any children, so my first born wasn't an option."
"Whoa! You actually said that to his face?" Emma was impressed by her moxie.
"He thought it was funny too. Well, I guess he thought it was funny. He laughed. Creepy, creepy. Then he made his counter offer."
"Which was," Emma coaxed her.
"If I couldn't pay, he would accept me, uhm," she stumbled out "he would accept me."
"Good God, he would have you as his. . . what's the term?"
Sylvia finished for her, "Mistress, whore, harlot, concubine, strumpet, wanton slut? Take your pick." Sylvia continued, the story pouring out. "Oh but now listen to this, because it does get funnier. I actually paid off the first loan. And the second. I had to get a new drainage system put in. It was the third loan, for new tiling, that did me in. I guess I got over-confident. I didn't plan quite as well. I was a little short one month. I went to him frightened that he would want to collect right then and there, but he said it was just fine, that he knew I would make it up the next month. But then, the second month, I was even more short. He was still nice about it and said he was sure I was going to be able to make everything up. Just smiled, never mentioned the contract. But, of course, I came up really short this month. I need more than $2000.00. I can't borrow it from my friends. They don't have that kinda money lying around, even if I tapped them all out. Besides, if I did that, he would find out. He always finds this kinda thing out and there would be terrible consequences for them. I can't have my friends suffering on my account."
"So what's going to happen?"
"Well, I went and told him this afternoon that I still didn't have the money, not what I owed him for past months and not for this month either. He didn't say anything at first. He just stood behind that counter of his and looked at me. Then, finally, he hands me a house key. I took it from him. Then he says, 'Eight o'clock, bring a change of clothing and wear your hair down.'"
"He can't do this," protested Emma. "It's medieval! No court would hold this up."
"No, they would just let him take my shop. The contract is pretty explicit, except for the 'mistress' part. That part is worded obscurely. 'Both parties may agree to an alternative payment arrangement if both parties can agree on the terms.'"
Sylvia signaled for a third beer, took a long drink and laid her head on her arms on the table top. "How could I have been so stupid, so sure of myself?"
"What are you going to do?" Emma asked, knowing the likely response.
"Well, my Plan A is to get really drunk, show up at his house and throw up on one of his carpets. I figure he's probably got some really nice, really expensive carpets in that big dark house and if I barf on one of them, he might be disgusted enough to send me home."
Emma shook her head. "No, I think more likely that he would have you clean it up and then he'd do you."
Sylvia sniffed. "Yeah, I think you're right. Of course, I'd still have the satisfaction of puking on his carpet. Maybe I could throw up on him." She brightened up, but then her face fell. "No, he'd just shower and then do me."
"Do you have a Plan B?" asked Emma.
Sylvia sighed and sniffed and took a last, long swig at her beer. "Pretty much just do what I'm doing now. Show up and cry and cry and cry and hope that maybe there's a soul in there."
+ + + + + Sanctuary
This was deep in the forest, the enchanted forest. A quiet, sweet smelling glade. Rowan trees, many young ones. The leaves rustled slightly in the breeze. There were no other movements.
Into this haven stumbled a creature, silver-green skin, long grasping blackened nails, matted dark hair. He seemed tired and forlorn, limping with a dark stain on his left thigh. He staggered deep into the glade and collapsed on a pile of leaves.
It was some unknown time later, the creature awoke. Petals from some unseen plant dropped one by one onto his face. He swatted them away, irritated.
Again petals dropped. His head throbbing, he looked up but could not see where they were coming from.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
There was no response.
He settled back in. His thigh was hurting furiously. He was about to drift off when another petal, then another, dropped on him.
"Who is there?" he again angrily demanded, sitting up. "I know someone is there. Where are you? Who are you?"
The forest stayed silent, unnaturally silent. He reached out with his senses, his own magic. There was something high in the tree above him. Not enough to be sure, but there was a sense of feminine power.
"I mean you no harm," not strictly true perhaps, but sometimes enough.
But there was no response.
He was about to settle back down when he heard a tinkling laugh.
No question, this was a feminine entity. A shy one, a cautious one. He looked up and around, searching his surroundings closely. This was a rowan glade. He was sitting under the largest tree in the cluster. But it was but a young tree. If he was correct, he was having an encounter with a ghillie dhu, a dryad, a tree fairy, and a young one.
"I'm not here to hurt your trees. I just need to rest."
There was no response.
He smiled and settled back down. If he were right and it was a dryad, she would come to him. They were frivolous, silly creatures, insatiably curious. He just had to wait.
It was a little while later, but he heard her rustling in the branches above him.
He pretended he was asleep. He kept absolutely still, with his eyes slitted open, just enough to catch changes in the shadows. It was only when she moved that he actually saw her; she blended in perfectly with the trees and leaves.
"What are you?" he heard her ask. He cautiously opened his eyes. He gasped, a short. almost audible, intake of breath. Getting a good look at her, he saw an extraordinarily delicate creature with skin the same silver-green as his own. Her hair was grey green and fell in varying lengths below her shoulders. She was clothed in gossamer wisps of silver-grey whimsy, her clothes almost the same color as her skin. Her eyes, no, he couldn't quite see her eyes
"What are you?" she asked again. "I have seen humans, dwarfs, elves, leprechauns, but I have not seen anything like you."
"Pretty-pretty, I'm an unfortunate creature, stunned by your beauty," he responded, knowing well that the curiosity of dryads was exceeded only by their vanity.
She observed him closely. "I think that you are a goblin." She stayed just beyond his grasp. She looked sharply at him, and then took a step back. "My forest friends tell me that you are very, very dangerous. That you could hurt me. I can see your magic. It is very dark. It is all around you." She turned away. "You should go."
"Alas, fair creature." He gestured to his hip where a dark stain came through the clothes. "I have been injured and will need to rest awhile." He made an appeal to her, knowing that dryads often were known to take care of sick and injured beasts. "Would you send me out, where animals and humans can prey upon me? Where I might die?"
She hesitated and stood listening to voices that he did not hear. She shook her head. "My friends tell me that you are a dark, evil force. That you cannot be trusted." She was still hesitant, and after a moment asked, "Your own magic cannot heal you?"
"Eventually, but I need a place to rest. Not for long," he added. "I will owe you a favor, pretty-pretty."
She continued to stand, considering. "I am not predisposed to turn away any animal that is suffering, even one that may turn on me when it is able." She made up her mind. "Two days, you may stay two days, and then I will reconsider."
"I will remember your kindness, pretty-pretty."
"We shall see. I have not found that many others remember their promises to my kind."
He smiled at her. "I always remember promises, my dear, always."
"We shall see." She sighed. "Now I will get you some water. It will refresh you and help you recover."
He lay back down on the bed of leaves and relaxed for the first time since encountering the angry villagers. He had done nothing to them. It had been this way before. Fear had driven them to attack him, although he had done nothing to them. He had actually helped some of them out. There had been a volley of arrows, all successfully deflected, except for a single one. It only took one. He had set his own hut on fire burning his potions and books and, for good measure, had cursed their fields. It would be a generation before crops would grow on that land. He would be able to find another place, being able to spin straw into gold had proven to be an invaluable skill.
In the meantime he would enjoy the little tree fairy's company. In truth, for a moment, he had considered attempting to absorb her magic, they both shared earth energy and he could readily use her powers, especially now. But he wasn't sure how powerful she might really be, knowing enough not to judge someone's power by their size. She might well be capable of resisting him, and in his weakened state, she might well be capable of hurting him. He knew dryads could sometimes be very powerful within a limited range. And he did feel that he owed her a favor; raping her and draining her, as exhilarating as that might be, would not be repaying her kindness. He actually had enjoyed just looking at her and her company had been open and pleasant; he wanted to be around her a little more. There were big differences, he knew already. Her energies went for healing and growing things, for light and sunshine. His was for destruction and revenge.
She returned shortly, the water in a large leaf that she had curled around itself. He hadn't realized that he was so thirsty.
"Thank you. I have heard that dryad water has healing powers."
She shrugged. "I do not know. I also brought you something to eat." She handed him another sturdy leaf that she had laid berries and roots and some other small leaves upon. She explained, "I do not know goblin fare. This is what I eat."
He stared at her, her generosity surprising him. "This is lovely. I find myself more and more in your debt."
She smiled but then suddenly moved away, as if surprised that she had gotten quite this close to him. "Two days, goblin. Two days."
+ + + + + Time to Pay
The house was just as intimidating as its owner. Set back from the road, with a tall black iron fence crossing in front of the house. With an iron gate. Iron gates always disturbed her, just touching them was unpleasant. She could sense that there were groves of trees here and there, but she couldn't see what he had growing here. It looked more like someone had put the house down at a random spot that already had trees and bushes, rather than placing the house and planning landscaping around it. The house consisted of two stories with one large three story tower set off in front. The windows had beveled and leaded panes. The roof was an expensive European tile. It was by far the nicest house in town.
Maybe she shouldn't have stopped and got that split of prosecco before coming onto the house. She had chugged it and, now, on top of all that beer, she was having some trouble seeing clearly, trouble walking steadily, trouble standing. Sylvia had used the key to unlock the front door. It had taken several attempts. The lock kept moving around. It was exactly eight o'clock when the door swung open. Inside, it was just as gloomy as his shop. She was carrying a cloth bag with the change of clothes. She pulled the barrette from her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders before she stepped in to the dark foyer.
"All the money he's supposed to have, you'd think he could afford to pay his electric bill," she murmured. She found a light switch and turned it on. "Wow." This was everything she had anticipated. Rich wood panels, hardwood floors. Tiffany lamps, and, oh yes, the expensive carpets. It looked very much like Plan A time. She was still very woozy and still actively tearful. "Hello," she called out. "I'm here."
"Come in my dear. Into my study."
"Shouldn't that be your parlor?" she asked, turning left into the room she had heard his voice come from.
She could see him sitting in a corner in a luxurious leather upholstered chair. For a moment she pulled back thinking she saw his eyes glinting, like she had seen that one time in his shop. Creepy.
"If you wish," She thought she heard a hint of amusement in his reply.
She stood in the center of the room. "You should know that I'm very, very drunk, and I'm afraid I may throw up. I'm also very weepy and very terrified," she confessed and continued. "I am prepared to honor my bargain, but," she dissolved into tears. "I'm not happy about it. And I don't want to. And I'm afraid you're going to hurt me."
Mr. Gold sat quietly for a moment, looking at the weeping, distraught woman. "Do you honestly think I want to hurt you?"
She stopped sniveling a moment. "Don't you want to hurt everybody? It's what you do. What else would you want?"
He shook his head. "Many things, but not to hurt you." He arose and walked over to her, standing very close. Not a tall man, but nonetheless able to look down on the petite florist. She was well aware of his power and his predatory nature and struggled to contain herself. He considered her. She wasn't just wobbly drunk and hysterically crying. She was trembling with outright fear. "Have you never been with a man before, princess?" he asked.
She looked up at him, shocked. "Of course, I'm twenty-five years old! Of course, I. . ." she began crying again and in a very small voice, whispered, "well you're almost certain to find out." There was a pause, and in a tiny voice she said, "no."
"Princess, I've been very patient waiting for you. Longer, much longer than you know." He very gently stroked her hair. "I don't want you drunk, weeping or terrified. I certainly don't want you throwing up. We will move more slowly."
He walked around her. "I have had a small supper prepared. I think we can skip the wine, but eating something may help you." He took her bag and set it aside. He then took her elbow and ushered her across the foyer into a dining room.
She looked around herself. Another gloomy room, but this one did have some light. The chandelier had real candles burning in it. The table had been set with Waterford crystal and china that probably ran two hundred dollars a plate. "Wow," she said again. "This is really nice."
"I'm glad you approve," he said dryly, pulling out a chair for her to sit in.
"I've never sat on a cushiony chair like this at a dining room table," she said ingenuously, like a child sitting at the grown-up table for the first time.
"I like comfort," he stated matter-of-factly.
She sat picking at the fruit, cheese and whatever else that was on the plate that in her inebriated state she couldn't quite identify. She took a drink from the water glass. "This is nice water. I usually actually just prefer water."
There was a very slight smile. "I thought you might," he replied.
She abruptly confessed. "You know, I was really planning on vomiting on one of your carpets this evening. I thought that might put you off. But Emma told me that probably wouldn't be a good idea."
Gold sat up, "You talked with Ms. Swan?
"Well, I had gone to the Diner and was drinking beer and blubbering and the whole sordid little story came out. Ms. Ruby knows too," she added.
He leaned back in his chair and briefly closed his eyes. After a pause, he opened them and looked at her directly, "So they think I'm. . . ravaging you, right now?"
"Yeah, probably. Of course, they already think the worst about you."
He gave her a tight smile. "This does rather add to my reputation as being cold and ruthless."
"Well you are, aren't you?"
"Absolutely. But I can also be kind and generous when I want to be."
Sylvia looked up at him shyly. "So what do we do now?"
"Well, I'm not going to 'ravage' you tonight, I assure you. Tonight, I will just ask that you let me kiss you and hold you a moment. And I will put you to bed," catching her look of concern, he added, "by yourself."
"That's all?"
"For tonight." He watched her a moment. "I have some time to court you, princess. It will happen," he promised her. "But not when you are, what is it? drunk, weepy and terrified. " He moved in very closely and whispered in her ear. "You will enjoy yourself, I promise you."
She shivered, but not quite with fear, and did not resist him when he softly kissed her and pressed her to him. The kiss lingered on longer than she had expected. He urged her to open her mouth to his and then trailed kissed down her neck. She was limp when he released her and missed the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes when he realized he had to give her support to stand. She assumed that it was because she was very drunk and unsteady on her feet.
"Ok," she stammered. "I wasn't expecting that."
"Neither was I, princess. Come, The bedroom is upstairs. It is next to mine. You will have your own bathroom. Let me know if you need anything."
He deposited her and her overnight bag just inside the bedroom door. Good God, the bedroom was as fine as the other rooms she had been in. But, also pretty dark and gloomy. The bed was a huge, antique mahogany four post construction. Before letting her go, he had kissed her forehead and asked, "Can I walk you to your shop in the morning?"
"I go to the Diner first thing every morning for a little breakfast. We have a deal. I give them flowers for their tables and they give me a reduced rate on breakfast." She looked at his face. He was watching her, almost smiling. "I guess I'm rambling. I'm really drunk," she added by way of explanation. She took a deep breath and collected herself, "You can walk me to the Diner. That would be fine."
"Lovely, you can update Ms. Swan and Ms. Ruby and assure them that you are still . . . intact."
For a change, Sylvia was glad it was so dark. She could feel herself heating up and knew she was blushing. He left her, shutting the door behind him. Sylvia stood a moment and realized she really did need to throw up.
+ + + + + A Proposal
It had been on the first day when he was still struggling to move around, when some of the villagers had come through with their dogs, looking for him. She had suddenly dropped out of the trees next to him and had signaled him to be quiet and still. The villagers and their dogs had walked by him, only a few feet away, looked at him, but had not seen him. Once they were gone, she had told him that while he was under her protection, she would not let anything happen to him.
She had spent much time with him, and he learned that her eyes were leaf green and almost translucent. He had discovered that she was alone in the world, separated from others of her kind by de-foresting, fire and war. Her long-lived mother, she had told him, had been queen, so he had started to call her 'princess.' She, herself, was the youngest of twenty-one daughters, but her sisters had all had their glades destroyed, and so had died, or they were so far away that their trees no longer had contact. Her father, well, she was not so sure. Dryads were known for waylaying lone males of other species, mating with them and sending them on their way, often with only the vaguest memories of their time in fairyland. Dryads bred true, always producing daughters. Her own rowan trees were only about twenty-five years old, so she was very, very young for a dryad. She was not tied to any one tree, but to the entire glade; as long as even one tree was left standing, she would continue.
He acknowledged to himself that he had initially had dark designs on her. But he had also slowly sensed, without making a test of it, that she was indeed very powerful, although only within the boundaries of her glade. He was glad he had resisted his impulse to drain her magic. He had begun to suspect, even if he had been uninjured, that he could not have subdued her in a contest of wills while she stood within her sphere of power. She had certainly shown no fear of him.
She had brought him water and food and pleasant company. She had soothed him. He had felt sane with her, for the first time in years. His pain was diminished, the anger lessened. He could easily have found himself seduced by the solitude and quiet of her little haven. Well, at least for awhile. He knew he would soon get bored and restless. And he had his own agenda. His own plan for everyone and everything.
"It's been two days, goblin." The little fairy greeted him, much too early in the morning for him. She was too cheery by half. However, he had to admit, despite the diet of plain water and forest fodder, he was actually doing much better. There was strong, healing magic in this place.
It had surprised him, pleased him, when she asked, "Would you stay awhile longer, goblin?"
He confessed his surprise, "Why, princess? You don't trust me. And," he added in a moment of honesty, "you shouldn't trust me."
"This is not about trust." She spoke slowly, "You intrigue me, goblin. I have never met anyone like you. You have not been what I was expecting. I had heard that your kind were bad tempered and cruel, even evil and destructive. But, you have been kind and gracious and I find that I. . . I like you. I like you very much." She cast her eyes down, again shy with him. "You know that my kind relies upon males of other species to," she searched for a word, "to propagate. I have never had a mate before," she confessed and looked up at him. She added with a touch of defiance, "But I am old enough now."
He was stunned. "I am honored, but," he was cautious, recognizing that she was herself a quite a dangerous being and not wanting to anger her, said, "Princess, I am not well. And I have many, many enemies. Enemies that seek to destroy me, to control me. They want my magic. They want me. If ever, if ever they discovered that you had helped me, if ever, if ever they thought that you had gifted me with a child, which is what you asking me for, they would destroy you and the child. I am already quite mad and the knowledge that somehow I had been involved in the destruction of something so pure, so innocent, would drive me completely insane."
"So you are saying 'no'?" She pulled back from him.
"I'm saying 'no, for now.' If ever I can, I will return to you. But for now, I must keep moving. I have other pressing businesses." He reached into one of his deep pockets. He pulled out a small green crystal, the color of her eyes. "Put this on a lanyard, princess. If you ever need me, hold it in the palm of your hand and think of me. I will hear you. I will come if I can." She reached for the jewel, ever entranced by pretty things, a failing of her kind.
He gently reached for her and she allowed him to kiss her on the lips. "I have never been so honored or humbled by any other request. It is the first request in a very long time that I have not been able to grant. If I can, when I can, I will return to you and, if you still want me, I will grant your request."
+ + + + Aftermath
Emma and Ruby were anxiously waiting at the Diner.
"Do you think she'll come?" asked Ruby.
"If she doesn't show, do you think it would be alright if I hunted down Gold and shot him?" asked Emma.
"I'd be fine with that. Probably everybody in town would be fine with that. They hate him. They love her."
It was at that moment the two women saw Sylvia and Mr. Gold walking together. He wasn't touching her. He stopped with her in front of the Diner, took her hand and leisurely raised the palm to his lips before letting her go, walking away down to his own shop. Sylvia stood for a moment watching him walk away and then turned to come into the Diner.
She gave a tentative wave to Emma and Ruby. Emma waved her over to her table.
"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
Sylvia shook her head, "Oh no. It wasn't horrible at all. He didn't do anything, except kiss me, once here," she pointed to her lips. "And once here," she pointed to her forehead. "And you saw him kiss my hand. He said he didn't want me drunk, weepy and terrified. All of which I was."
"So you went with Plan B and found he had a soul," observed Emma. She followed up, "He wants you to come back tonight, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, he was pretty clear about that. Seven o'clock, have my hair down, and we are having dinner."
"Sylvia," Emma was cautious. "It sounds that he is trying to seduce you. He's wooing you. He wants you to have feelings for him, so you don't feel like you're being violated. They call it 'grooming,' when a man convinces a woman that the seduction is her idea."
"I hear what you are saying Emma. But I did agree to this. And I'd rather it be soft and gentle than hard and harsh. He could have been a brute, but he was almost a gentleman."
Emma nodded, "Yeah, we saw the hand kiss."
"That was sweet. And he said he didn't feel right sending me flowers because I'm a florist. So this morning he gave me this," she held up a beautiful green crystal on a gold chain.
"Jewelry, already," observed Ruby, with some approval. She had come by to drop off the usual breakfast orders. "At least he's prepared to be generous."
+ + + + The Warning
There had been occasional visits, but Rumpelstiltskin was very careful not to let anyone know about the existence of the Dryad Glade. This was his oasis of sanity. His respite. His sanctuary. Yet, as beautiful as she was, as eager as she was for his attendance, he could not bring himself to touch her, afraid of spoiling things, of soiling things.
It was such a very dark time in his own life. He had finally completed his most complex, his very darkest spell, one that would change the course of all nine kingdoms. It had consumed his talent and sanity. He had allowed the miller's daughter to steal it from him, for this was not the sort of spell that could be bartered for. She thought it quite a prize and considered the theft justified because of everything he had taken from her. She would have the strength to use it. He knew that once she had failed at everything else she tried to do to her enemies (and she would fail, for he would aide her enemies and keep her continually thwarted), once she had desperately failed, she would have to come to him to get his help to make it work. This last would give him everything.
He knew what was coming next. He knew it would be his last evening in the glade with the little fairy. He talked with her. "My enemies will soon capture me, princess and bind my magic." She started to protest, but he held his hand up to quiet her. "I have seen this. This will happen. Then, I have foreseen, a great spell, my spell, will be released. All will be forgotten, all will be lost, all happiness will end. But I have taken steps to preserve myself, my memories, and release my magic to regain my happiness. I can't give you your memories, but I can promise to find you and give you back happiness. We can be together. We can be happy. Will you still have me?"
She gave him a radiant smile. "You are my true love, goblin. I have always been yours."
Rumpelstiltskin paused, "I must have your name, princess. Your true name. This will give me the power I need to call you back. Do you trust me enough to give me your name?"
She looked at him for a long moment, her leaf-green eyes swirling. "Faline," she finally whispered.
+ + + + + A Gift
Sylvia came before seven o'clock. She opened the curtains for both the parlor and dining room and turned on every light she could find. She added a couple of strings of lights around a window in the dining room. She had brought several flowering plants, beautiful bright blossoms to help brighten up the rooms. They left a lingering perfume in the air. She had put on a little sundress, bright yellow and wore a bright lipstick. She put a small vase of white and yellow cut flowers on the dining room table.
Well it was still gloomy but now a brightly lit gloomy. What was missing? She couldn't put her finger on it. She was looking over his books in the parlor when he came in at seven.
She took his breathe away, she was so beautiful, so innocent, so delicate. He couldn't help but notice that she was wearing the green crystal necklace he had given her.
Gold was still dressed as he had left the house. Immaculate, in a grey suit with a dark maroon shirt. There was a matching silk handkerchief in his pocket. He leaned his cane against the wall near the door. She looked at him.
"I should have fitted you with a white carnation this morning. It would have brightened the suit," she observed. She pointed at the cane. "Mountain ash, isn't it?"
He nodded, "Some people call it rowan and believe the wood has magical qualities."
"Yes I know. It's my favorite tree," she hesitated. "May I ask how your leg was injured?"
"It was a long time ago. I was attacked. It had healed but still gives me some discomfort."
"You were attacked?" genuine concern showed on her face, warming him.
"I haven't always been the universally loved and admired person you see before you now, princess," he said, with just a touch of asperity.
"Why do you call me that?" she asked, a bit braver tonight than she had felt the night before.
"Because the first time I saw you, you were standing in your hothouse. You were surrounded by dark leaves and bright flowers. It looked like you were in a forest. You had on a little green dress and you had taken off your shoes. The sprinkler system had turned on and your dress, your hair, were all wet. Your dress was clinging to you in all the right places. You reminded me of a fairy princess under a waterfall."
"Uhm, I didn't realize I had made such a first impression," she said honestly.
"The image has stayed with me." He smiled at her, a genuine smile that made him look younger than he was. "Please excuse me, I must tell Ms. Pans that my dinner guest is here."
"I've not met her. Is she your cook?"
"And general housekeeper," he explained. "I may introduce you to her another time." He abruptly pulled her to him and gave her a quick, rough kiss. "Right now, I want you to stay here and continue to look like my fairy princess." He ran his hand through her ashen hair. As he walked out of the room (she supposed he was going to the kitchen), he turned again and spoke to her, "I assume you are responsible for all the plants?"
"Yes, I hope you don't mind."
He sighed and almost smiled. "I'm not good with living things, you know."
"I kinda guessed that. I will have to come in and take care of them for you."
He was gone but a moment and, when he returned, he conducted her back into the parlor. "I like this dress and the lipstick. I like you wearing my necklace. You don't seem as drunk, or as weepy or as terrified as you were last night."
She agreed. "I'm not drunk and I'm not crying, but I am still terrified," she admitted. "And a little nauseated," she added. "I mean, I don't know what you will want me to do and you are really scary and creepy."
This time he agreed with her. "I suppose I am. This has allowed me to have control of this town. To be the richest, most powerful man in this town. But I don't want you to be afraid of me." He took her hands and looked down into her eyes, his eyes very dark. "I know you haven't done anything like this before. You haven't been out on dates or had a boyfriend or a man friend. Why, I don't know. You are the most beautiful creature in this town."
"You think so? I mean, there are a lot of really pretty women in this town." She was genuinely unaware of her beauty.
"But only one fairy princess," he assured her.
She had to laugh at this one. "So, we are going to have supper first." She suddenly was alarmed, "Oh, I forgot to tell you. I'm on a plant-based diet. I hope that doesn't mess up what your cook fixed for us."
"Actually no, I guessed you were vegetarian. Most fairy princesses are," he remarked, again smiling at her.
"Really, you guessed that? Did you know me in a former life or something?"
"Something like that, I suppose," he agreed very quietly.
Sylvia chatted on during the meal, partly due to nervousness and partly due to her naturally bubbly nature. She admired the meal, the crystal, the china, the chandelier, the lace tablecloth. Gold ate quietly, watching her, listening to her. He admired her hair, her eyes, her skin, her lips, her body. This was the most extraordinary woman in town and it had taken him a very long time to get her close to him. She brightened up his mealtime, his evening, his home, hell, his life.
"Oh, I've been talking too much. I guess I'm nervous."
"You probably should be nervous. Have a little wine. I don't want you to get drunk, but I do want you to be relaxed."
She dutifully obeyed, downing the expensive vintage like it was water, pulling a face when the liquor hit her throat. He rose and gave her his hand pulling her to her feet. "Please, come with me."
"Where are we going?" she asked as they went out the front door.
"I have something I have to show you, I think you will like it."
It was twilight, but he led her surely around the right side of the house.
"We shouldn't walk widdershins around your house," she chided him. "That's how you can end up in fairyland."
"That's where we're going," he told her. It wasn't far, just at a back corner, up against the tall brick wall that surrounded the back of the property.
She stood, stunned, looking at a small glade of rowan trees.
"My favorites!" She burst away from him and ran headlong into the glade, reaching up to caress the limbs and leaves of the trees. For a moment it seemed to Gold that the trees were bending down to her, greeting her after a long absence. She stretched and leaned up against the largest tree in the glade. "I could stay here forever! This is wonderful!" She stood a moment, her arms outstretched, her head back and her eyes closed. She stayed still, gently swaying in time with the trees. When she finally opened her eyes, she looked at Gold, puzzled.
"Princess?" he asked, watching her closely.
"I. . .I was expecting something else," she said slowly. "I don't know what. Things. . . I. . . I don't know," she finally said. "I don't know."
"Like you were remembering something?" he asked softly.
"Yes, but it's gone now." She shrugged.
"You are welcome to come and visit anytime. Maybe you will remember what it was."
She looked closely at him and reached out to him. "Thank you. I think that most men give women flowers or candy. You have given me a beautiful jewel" she touched the crystal she wore on the gold chain. "And you give me trees. This was an extraordinary gift, most unexpected. I want to come here every day and walk widdershins round your house to visit these trees. How could you have known?"
He took her hands. "I feel I have known you for a very long time, princess. When you recognized the cane as rowan, and you seemed to know about rowan trees, I felt I had to show you this glade."
He led her back to the house and into the parlor and sat down in his leather chair. "I'm not getting you into bed tonight. I am just going to want to kiss you and get you used to feeling my hands on your body. Sit on my lap." He gently pulled her down to his lap. "Now pull your skirt up so that you are sitting directly on me." She complied, the skirt of her dress draping over them both. She was acutely aware of his legs under hers.
"Now, you kiss me," he directed.
She hesitated but leaned in and pressed her lips to his. She felt his hand on her head, his fingers entwining in her hair to hold her still. Her mouth opened under the pressure of his mouth and then, as she had the night before, she felt him kissing her along her chin and her neck. When he reached that particularly sensitive place at the point where her neck became her shoulder, she heard herself moan. Her eyes closed, she became aware that his other hand was tracing along her body, her waist, holding her just below her breast.
"I thought," she gasped out, "that it was the alcohol that made me feel this way last night. It was you."
"Uh hum," he murmured. "You smell good. Your hair, your skin. You're so soft, so smooth." He stopped a moment. "Look at me," he directed her again. "I'm going to take this part of your dress off," he touched the strap of the sundress. "I'm going to touch you, do you understand?"
She swallowed hard and nodded her head.
"Your job is to just feel."
"I can do that," she agreed, trying to manage her breathing.
As the evening proceeded, Gold slowly and carefully placed his hands over her entire body, touching her in all the most intimate, private places, soon enough her breasts, and eventually between her legs. She was increasingly aroused and found it harder to breath. She felt that she was blushing all over. "Please, I'm not terrified any more. And, I think I could be ready for more," she whispered to him.
Gold shook his head. "Not yet, not tonight. I just wanted you to know what it can feel like. How good it can feel." He kissed her one last time and helped her stand. She clung to him, unsteady on her feet. "The evening is a bit early," he observed. "Why don't you take a warm bath? I think you'll like the little jets in the bathtub."
"I don't think I need a warm bath. I think I need a cold shower." she muttered.
Gold gave her another of his tight smiles and a soft laugh. "Me too."
He led her upstairs and stopped at her bedroom door. He gave her one last kiss, more passionate that the others, leaving her weak in the knees and totally breathless.
He was right about the bathtub.
+ + + + + Innocence
Emma and Ruby were again watching closely for Sylvia early in the morning. This time, when she and Gold walked by the Diner, they were holding hands. At the door, Gold turned Sylvia to him and kissed her lightly on her forehead. Sylvia again stood a moment after he turned and headed onto his shop.
"Well," Emma greeted her.
Sylvia sat in the booth across from Emma. "He just kissed me and touched me," she blushed. "He touched me all over, but nothing more. I feel like he pushed me to a point and then just stopped. I'm having the most intense feelings. I feel like I'm going to explode." Ruby had come by and heard her exchange.
Emma and Ruby exchanged glances. Ruby smiled knowingly, "He's getting you all primed. I wouldn't have thought he'd have that much technique."
Emma agreed, "I wouldn't have thought he'd have any technique. Are you going tonight again?"
"Yes, the arrangement is permanent until I pay off the loan or he gets tired of me."
"I don't think he's going to get tired of you any time soon," observed Ruby.
"I'm to show up tomorrow night at nine. I'm going now to deliver some plants to his pawn shop. I think I might put a couple of planters outside of his doors. It might perk things up." She ate her usual breakfast, paid and hurried out.
"She has no idea what she's getting into does she?" asked Ruby as she and Emma watched her walk on.
"No idea," agreed Emma. "But as much as I don't like Gold and really don't like his bullshit methods, I've got to say he may be making her happy."
"Be nice if somebody in the town could be happy," observed Ruby.
+ + + + + It's Coming
"This place is awful."
Rumpelstiltskin stirred. She was the only one to come without a disguise and she had just walked in. How did she get around the guards?
"Princess?"
"Yes, I could not 'hear' you anymore." She touched the crystal. "I remembered what you had said about your enemies, about being captured, about having your magic bound."
"Yes, yes, this is what I knew would happen. I tried to warn you. To prepare you."
The little fairy was distressed. This place was dark and wet and so, so lonely. Nothing could grow here. "What did you do that they would hate you so much?"
"I give people what they ask for, but then, they find that the price is too high. All magic has a price. They don't like that. It can be dangerous to get what you wish for."
The fairy shook her head. He was mad. She had seen this before when he would come to her. But then, then, he would become calmer and quieter the longer he would stay with her. This place, without light, without company, would have made many creatures mad if they had not been so before. She reached out and touched the Old Magic in the iron bars of his cell. Like others of her kind, she felt poisoned by the touch of iron and she quickly pulled her hand back. There was Earth Magic here, like her own, but it was combined with Air, Fire and Water. She shook her head. This was not to be broken readily. This was a very old spell, cast by at least four very different magical beings. Even if she and he were at their strongest and working together, she didn't think they could break this spell. And now, with his own powers bound and she being weakened as she was by being far away from her grove, they had no hope of breaking the bars.
"I cannot free you. I do not have power here," she explained.
He cleared his head for a moment. Her presence was a positive influence, like a clear, bright light shining through the darkness. He had to save her. "You cannot stay here. You will weaken and die if you stay away from your glade too long. If they find you here, they may hurt you and that would destroy me."
"But I had to come. When I lost contact with you, I had to find out, to find out if you were still alive."
"I'm alive."
"But, they have taken away your light, your magic, your company."
"Actually I get regular visitors," he observed and laughed. "They still come to ask for things they want, to make deals with the devil."
She stood for a moment. He could see tears on her cheeks. She reached around her neck and removed the black ribbon with the green crystal hanging from it. "Here, the crystal has a light inside of it. As long as it burns, you will know that I think of you, that I love you. It may give you some strength." She handed it over to him through the bars. They touched hands and she moved close to him. They kissed through the bars. She backed away slowly.
"It's coming," he told her. "The change, the end of happiness."
"Will I know you after?" she asked.
"No," he shook his head, "but I will know you."
She smiled, lighting up the dark cavern. "Then we have a chance." She faded away.
+ + + + + Offense
Mr. Gold looked around his shop. There were flowers and plants everywhere. Lights had been strung around window and mirrors. Curtains had been pulled back. The place smelled better. She had been here.
He heard the door chime. It was the lovely Ms. Swan.
"My dear, how can I help you?"
"I was just in the neighborhood. I wanted to stop by and chat with you."
"Really," he said quietly. "You don't seem like the kind to chat. What are you here for?"
Emma pursed her lips. "Well you are a direct one, aren't you?" She looked him directly in the eye. "I'm here as a friend of Sylvia."
Mr. Gold did not respond, waiting for her to finish. Emma felt an immediate sense of wariness, as if there was a threat, although he hadn't moved or changed his facial expression.
"I don't want to see her hurt."
He remained still.
"She's my friend and as dear and sweet a person as they come. She just couldn't pay her bill on time. She doesn't deserve to have her life ruined."
"Is that what you think I'm doing? Ruining her life?"
He was so quiet, so threatening. "Maybe," she said.
He walked around the counter and came to stand directly in front of her. "I assure you, I have no intention of ruining Ms. Dubois's life, of hurting her. She is actually precious to me. And," he added. "If I thought that you were not here as one of her friends, I would be. . . offended at your meddling." Now, this was clearly a threat.
Emma stood her ground. Mr. Gold was impressed. Most people would have backed down, or at least, backed up, by now. "I just wanted to be sure that you weren't going to take advantage of her trusting nature and then toss her aside."
He considered for moment. "It may surprise you. I am actually more concerned that Ms. Dubois will take advantage of me and toss me away. After all we have a familiar, trite story here. A beautiful young woman and an older, rich man. Will she deign to stay with me? Will she get tired of me and move to greener pastures?" He turned away and walked back behind the counter. "Now is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No, I'm just trying to figure you out. You actually seem to have genuine feelings for Sylvia. And, I know you paid Ashley Boyd's hospital bill after you agreed to not take her baby. You didn't have to do that."
He shrugged, "I would appreciate it if you would not share that with anyone. My original agreement was to pay Ms. Boyd's bills; we did not re-negotiate that part of the agreement. We agreed that I would not take the child in exchange for a favor from you. You are in my debt and I assure you," he paused, "I will collect at some point."
"I guess I should be worried. I've seen what happens when you collect your debts." Emma shook her head, "You don't want people to know when you actually do something decent. Just the bad stuff can come out. I guess that keeps up the fear level."
Emma paused, "I keep thinking that I met you before coming to Storybrooke. Oh, I don't know." It was frustrating to have memories just out of reach. She turned to go. "Just know, I'll be watching. Don't hurt her." She turned and left the store. Once outside, she stopped and looked back. It had felt different in his shop, more open and airy. No doubt, Sylvia had been there. She was changing things. Gold has been no less sinister and feral, but he had seemed genuine about Sylvia.
In his shop, Gold was not concerned. He had known that his fairy princess had friends. He also remembered well that he owed her a favor. Although she didn't remember this, he certainly did. He never forgot a promise, never. He would not hurt her or allow anyone else to hurt her. He liked knowing that others also wanted her safe and protected.
+ + + + + Innocence Lost
She arrived late, and was carrying a huge bouquet of flowers, filling both arms. He let her in. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I thought these would help brighten up the place." She could barely see over the blossoms. "It took me longer to get here than I thought it would carrying everything." She stood in the entry. "I need some vases."
"Of course." He was perplexed. "What kind of vases?"
"Tall ones! Let me into your kitchen."
He held the door open for her. She had not been in this room of the house before. It was a technologically sleek celebration of stainless steel. "Sink," she said.
He motioned over to the side of the room. She set the flowers into the sink, wiped her hands on the large apron she wore over her dress and turned back, "Vases?"
"Oh yes." He went back into the parlor and dining areas. There were several beautiful vases there, none of which had ever held flowers.
"These are lovely," she said when he carried them into her. "Do you have any frogs?"
"I beg your pardon? Frogs?"
"Flower frogs" she was bustling about. She had pulled a set of scissors out of her apron pocket and was busy sheering off flower stems, stripping leaves, arranging the flowers into vases. She stopped and looked at him and around the room. "No, in this cold, sterile setting, I don't suppose you would. No problem, I have florists' tape." She reached into another apron pocket, retrieved a roll of slender florists' tape, then proceeded with pulling off the green tape and crisscrossing it across the top of one of the vases. She then began arranging the flowers.
"Now these are very nice. Put this one in your parlor and I'll put this one into the dining room. Where's Ms. Pans?"
"I have given her the evening off. She left our food in the oven."
"Wonderful. These should help brighten up your place."
Mr. Gold put down the vase she had handed him and took the one she was carrying from her hand. He pulled her to him. "Calm down," he directed and then kissed her. She melted against him.
"I guess I am a little nervous," she admitted, talking into his chest.
He led her back into the parlor. "You are a lot nervous. Sit down, relax," he commanded, reaching around her to remove the apron. "I'm going to get dinner on the table. I like that you are still wearing my necklace," he touched the crystal. "And I like this dress, too," his hand tracing down her figure before he left her, coming back in a moment with one of the vases of flowers.
"You're early. I had planned to have things ready for you when you got here." He paused a moment. "I'm not complaining, mind you. I just won't look quite as polished as I would have if I had been able to have everything ready for you."
She smiled at him. "You could never look 'unpolished.'"
He stopped and looked at her. "You always make me feel wonderful. You brighten my life. You make me a better person."
"You are too sweet," she replied. She looked him over carefully. "You are actually a totally different person than what people think you are."
"Only around you," he confessed. "You change me, for the better, for the best." He left her briefly, to return with the second vase.
"You said this went into the dining room."
"Yes, please." She suddenly laughed. He quickly returned and went to pour her a glass of his best red wine.
"I heard you laughing. What was funny?" he asked.
"I don't know if you would find it so funny. But, I was just sitting here thinking what everyone would think of what just happened."
"What just happened?" he was puzzled.
"Here you are in your own house and I'm telling you, 'get vases, put them here, put them there.'"
"Show me your frogs," he finished.
"Uh hum. Not exactly what they think the most powerful man in town, the richest man in town does in his own house."
He handed her the glass of wine. Interested, he asked "What do they think I do?"
"Oh, we think you sit in your vault and count stacks and stacks of gold coins, your ill-gotten gains."
"Now, I help people when they have nowhere else to go. That should make me a good guy."
"It would, if you didn't force them into deals that you know will work out to your favor."
"Now why shouldn't I make a profit? I have worked hard for all my, what did you call them, oh yes, my 'ill-gotten gains.'"
"People just feel that you use their unhappiness, their desperation, to your advantage."
"I'd argue with you." He sighed. "But you are probably right. I'm certainly turning your desperation to my advantage." He leaned over her and kissed her gently. "But I hope you are enjoying yourself, too."
She raised her arms around his head. The kiss deepened.
It was Mr. Gold who pulled back. His eyes were almost completely black, despite the brightness of the room. "I don't want your first time to be on the carpet here. We need to cool off." He stood. "Princess, I will get supper on the table. Sit and relax."
Before he left, she asked, "Can I look around your house?"
"Certainly. I do not want to have secrets from you."
She looked around the parlor. It was not so gloomy now that she had added plants and lights and spots of color. She hoped he liked it. He hadn't told her to stop. He seemed more amused than angered. She realized that she hadn't seen much of the house: the study (which would forever be the parlor now), the dining room, the foyer, and a brief glance into the kitchen. Then, just the bedroom he had put her in and the bathroom that was attached. She had seen there was another door off the parlor. She got up and tried it.
It went into the tower. This was an amazing room. Round with an intense floor-to-ceiling library. There was an oak desk in the middle with several comfortable chairs and nice, bright reading lights. There were stairs which she knew must go up to the second floor. She went up and found the second floor room. This was a workroom of sorts. There were lots of interesting bottles and jars, a large work table. Looked to her like Gold was into making his own beer. Or, magic potions, she thought whimsically.
She then went up to the third floor. Now this was the strangest. A single item sat in the middle of the room. A large spinning wheel sat by itself. Just by itself.
Strange.
She went on down the stairs and back into the parlor, shutting the door behind her. He had not noticed her absence.
Supper, she thought later, was probably delicious, but she didn't notice one way or another. She was pretty sure what would happen after the meal and couldn't get her mind onto anything else. They ate in silence, looking at each other, sometimes touching hands across the table. He spoke first.
"This is another very pretty dress." It was a form fitting green silk that matched her eyes.
"Thank you," she responded. "I thought you might approve."
There isn't too much you do that I don't approve of," he admitted. "We have tiramisu for dessert. Would you like some now or later?
Sylvia smiled at him and stood, "Later, please." She slowly began to pull the strap down from one shoulder and then the other strap. He stopped her.
"No, I want to undress you," he said, standing and walking around the table. He pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. He didn't release her. He then picked her up and carried her upstairs. He stopped at the bedroom door of the bedroom he used and pushed it open. He carried to his bed and laid her upon it. He spoke again, "I want to undress you and then I want you to undress me."
His eyes were almost entirely black. There was no stopping him at this point and she didn't want to. She was entirely ready.
+ + + + + Fireworks!
Emma and Ruby waited anxiously at the Diner the next morning. They spotted the couple walking with Sylvia nestled under Gold's arm. They stopped in front of the diner and talked.
Ruby guessed, "I think she's trying to talk him into coming in."
Gold shook his head. Sylvia reached her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. His arms went around her, pulling her to him. They lingered in this pose for a while and parted from each other reluctantly.
Emma and Ruby stood inside the Diner watching.
Emma observed, "Looks like he finally nailed her."
Ruby nodded and agreed. "Yeah, looks like he hit the nail on the head."
Emma agreed. "Judging by the skip in her walk, it looks like he hit it out of the park."
Sylvia came into the Diner, saw the two women and blushed.
"Alright," said Emma. "Sit down, you obviously did it."
"Do I look more relaxed?"
"Relaxed! You are positively glowing!"
"It was amazing! He was amazing! If I had known it would be like this, I would have thrown myself at his feet years ago and begged him to have me!"
Ruby and Emma looked at each other. "Go on," said Ruby, keeping her voice flat.
"Well he undressed me, and then had me undress him. He looks really fantastic. But he has this scar on his left thigh. I think that is why he has a limp. Of course, he had just carried me up the stairs so I don't think he's too impaired . . . with walking that is. He is certainly not impaired."
Ruby interrupted, "Get back to the main story."
Sylvia giggled. "Ok, well then he began to kiss me. He started at my feet and kinda worked his way up and it just went on awhile before he finally uh," she hesitated.
"Boinked your brains out," suggested Ruby.
Sylvia blushed, "OK, before he did it. It was pretty amazing. I know you read about fireworks, suns exploding, waves crashing, but you don't expect to get that." (In truth, there had been some discomfort that first time, but he had held her still and quiet before continuing, kissing her, soothing her. He had begun well and finished well with her.)
"And you did?" asked Emma.
"Get fireworks? Oh yes, several times, before, during. And then we took a bath together and his tub was a whole other experience. We didn't do it in the tub, but he made me. . . in the tub."
"Oh, the man's got style," admitted Ruby.
Sylvia continued, "We did it again after the bath and then again really late at night. He woke me up for that one, and then again early this morning."
Ruby spoke directly to Emma, "I counted four times, did you count four times?"
"I counted four times too," agreed Emma. She turned to Sylvia. "Did we count right?"
"We had sex four times, but I had 'fireworks' a lot more often. I have never felt better in my life."
"Well, I can understand that," said Emma. "I gotta pry. The man has such a dark streak. Just straight sex, right?"
Sylvia looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Missionary position, man on top," explained Ruby.
"There's more?" Sylvia looked surprised, then brightened up. "That's what he meant this morning when he said that he wanted to teach me some other things."
"No doubt," agreed Emma, dryly. She turned to Ruby, "I'm impressed. We need to stand up and salute this man next time we see him. He has the stamina of a twenty year old but the field experience of a forty year old."
+ + + + + A Request
Gold was in his shop when the Mayor came in. "I see you finally bedded the little prude," she said without preamble. She had seen them walking with his arm around her and observed the passionate kiss before the Diner.
"It's good to see you, Madam Mayor. Can I do anything for you?"
"I am just wondering what she sees in you. I know she didn't get into your bed willingly. No woman gets into your bed willingly. Are you paying her off for the public display of affection?"
"Can I do anything for you?" he repeated.
"You think you've found happiness at last. Well, you're the last one to deserve any happiness. You who have been responsible for so much misery. What do you think is going to happen when your little fairy princess rolls over one morning and finds that she's gotten into bed with a goblin?"
Gold didn't flinch. As he had done the day before with Ms. Swan, he walked around the counter and came face to face with the Mayor. "Things are changing since Ms. Swan came to town, aren't they dearie? People are beginning to wake up and some are finding true love. What is that saying, 'true love conquers all'?"
He continued, "Right now, the little princess is quite content. She has a man who gives her jewelry and multiple orgasms. She is very I want you to leave her alone. I want you to leave us alone. Do you understand? I'm making this a request and I'm saying, 'please.'"
Regina looked at him, furious. The arrogant bastard was not supposed to remember anything, yet so often it seemed as if he remembered everything. She sometimes felt as if she were a pawn in a bigger game than her own. She turned and stomped out of the shop.
+ + + + + A Oddity
Emma had walked Sylvia to her shop.
"He's asked me to move in, but I don't know. I've told him I'll have to think about it," Sylvia was sharing. "It's an amazing house. And there's a rowan glade in the backyard. That probably doesn't mean anything to you, but it's a big deal to me. And you've seen the tower from the road, I'm sure. You will never believe what I found on the top floor of the tower. It's a spinning wheel! That was all. It's one of the really old, really big ones. I'll have to ask him what it's for when I get the chance."
"A spinning wheel?" Emma exclaimed. "That reminds me of something," she said to herself, "but I'm not sure what."
fin