This is an update of the Goblin and the Fairy Princess story, but posted as a separate story (absolutely makes a whole lot more sense if you've read the first effort). I did debate about moving so quickly to the traditional happy ending, but I am dealing with a fairy tale, after all. I especially wanted to pull Sylvia out of the submissive, victim role, even though she didn't end up feeling too bummed out in the first go-around. Perhaps not a dynamic as the first story, but ties up a few loose ends (with a few new loose ends added). Thanks for all the lovely comments and requests for "more."
Sylvia/Faline is my own character. Everyone else is, well, you know.
The Goblin and the Fairy Princess - Fire, Fireworks and Fireflies.
R. Gold pays his debt to Sylvia as she grows into her own powers.
It has been nearly three months since Gold had coerced sweet, innocent Sylvia into his bed. She had not been able to pay her loan for improvements to her florist's shop and rather than face foreclosure had bartered her very self to the older man. It had worked out much better than anyone might have ever thought, but her friends were not happy about the arrangement. They felt that Gold was taking an insidious advantage of the delicate little blonde.
Of course they did not know, could not know, that Sylvia DuBois was the Storybrooke incarnation of a powerful dryad, Faline, one tied to a rowan glade deep in the enchanted forest of Fairyland. She had reluctantly saved the life of an injured goblin-creature that stumbled into her glade. Although, perhaps, his initial intentions had been less than honorable, he had quickly come to care for and admire the dryad. Love, true love emerged. When she had offered herself to him, he most reluctantly refused her, declaring too much danger in his own life, too many enemies. He knew A Great Change, an evil curse, was coming. He promised to return to her if there was any way possible.
After The Change, the goblin-creature had retained his memories and most of his magical powers. More importantly he possessed the power coinage of the new land; he was a very wealthy man and essentially owned the town. He was feared and rightly so by the townspeople.
But now the dryad was not the self-assured, capable creature of Fairyland. She was a vulnerable, pure of heart, most delightful young woman, much younger than the goblin counterpart, and had absolutely no memory of him or the deep feelings she once had for him. His efforts at reviving her memories had all failed. Not the green crystal, not the rowan trees, not a kiss, not even passionate, thorough sex.
She was happy in his bed, but he owed her a debt for saving his life and he had not paid it yet.
+ + + + + Thursday Morning – House of Shadows
"No, I'm not going to move in with you."
+ + + + + Dilemma
Mary Margaret Blanchard had a small house and let a spare room to Emma Swan. They had developed a deep friendship despite differences.
It was early one Friday morning and Mary Margaret had an odd problem. Someone had been sending her a beautiful bouquet of flowers once a week but there was never any card. She was up to Week Four.
Emma gave her some quick advice. "I'm sure they come from Faline's. Why don't you drop by Sylvia's shop and see if she can tell you anything? I'm going by to chat with her tomorrow and can let her know you'll be by."
"I can do that," agreed Mary Margaret. "I don't know who might be sending me the flowers but, without a card, I'm rather uncomfortable. Both Dr. Whale and David have said that they are not sending me the flowers." She thought a moment. "You are going over to chat with Sylvia a couple of times a week. May I ask if there's a problem?"
Emma hesitated. "I'm concerned about her." She sat at their kitchen table sharing cinnamon sprinkled hot chocolate. Out of her concern for Sylvia, Emma shared, "Mr. Gold has forced her into a . . . a relationship because she couldn't pay back a loan."
"Oh no! That sweet girl and Mr. Gold! That sounds awful. How is she holding up? Why would she have even considered such a thing?"
"Well," admitted Emma, "it was the only way to save her shop. She does seem to be doing very well. He treats her like a princess. But from my perspective, he's gotten her into this intense exploitive relationship and this can't possibly turn out well. I'm afraid for her."
Mary Margaret shook her head. "But if she's happy, who are we to say the relationship is unhealthy?"
"That is exactly what I'm struggling with." Emma was grateful for Mary Margaret's calm, quiet insights. She was always, always supportive and slow to make judgments.
+ + + + + Friday Morning – House of Shadows
"No, I'm not going to move in with you."
+ + + + + Hesitation
This was not an emotion he often dealt with – self-doubt. He knew this had been the right thing for him and for them as a couple, but had it the right thing for her? In this incarnation she seemed helpless and vulnerable, more like a girl-child than a young woman, lacking the confidence, the fearlessness, the sheer power she had possessed within her glade. In this place, she had seemed so much younger than he, so very young. It bothered him. A lot. Not because of what others' thought about it; he didn't give a damn about what others' thought. It just didn't seem right.
He clasped his hands together thinking it through. In Fairyland the age difference was minimal. So what? When he was 600, she would only be 575. But here, he felt, he looked twice her age. It was not a comfortable difference.
Had this been the right thing to do?
He had given her chances, so many more than he had ever given to anyone because he had just not been sure this had been the correct path to follow. He knew until Emma broke the curse, if she broke the curse, then each denizen of the town walked their own path. If they stumbled on the key that could awaken them, then it would happen for that person and that person alone. But the key was different for each person.
What was Sylvia's key? It had not been her true name. He had been shaken to see that as the name on her shop and wondered if Regina had recognized it for what it was. That would not be good. He had tried everything he knew: the crystal, a kiss, her trees, sex. He had initially thought that the green crystal would be the most likely item to be her key. He had, some time ago, personally put it onto a new gold chain for her, taking it off the worn black ribbon that had been wound around it originally to make it into a necklace so very long ago. He had followed through with his plan to give the crystal to her as soon as he could. He had kept the ribbon; he kept it on his person at all times. It was something she had given him.
She had likely saved his life. He owed her a debt. He had thought his payment would be to return her memories, or at very least, her happiness. But she, unlike so many others had already seemed happy, or at least content. And her memories had not returned.
Had this been the right thing to do?
He did believe that she was his true love and he was hers. But now that time was moving again and people had ceased to move in circles, repeating pointless patterns of behaviors, he was afraid, as beautiful as she was, that one of the many handsome younger. . . young men would likely begin to court her. He knew she was, at heart, a dryad. If she were like her sisters, well, he thought uncharitably, they could be promiscuous little trollops. She had only known him two days in Fairyland before she propositioned him. He could lose her to another man, would lose her to another man. And likely never even knowing what she had done, losing her would be Regina's ultimate revenge on him. And on Sylvia too, if she never regained her memories to find her true path, to find true love with him.
His magic, most of his magic, had reappeared once The Change had happened, the bindings broken by the power of the Dark Curse. The petty talents emerged almost instantly. Some talents had taken a short while to return, his recall for specific spells, his insights into reading people's true desires, those had taken a little time, but were mostly back. Some talents, his transformation skills, his ability to shift from one place to another, and, right now, the one strong talent that had made him the most dangerous man in the kingdom, his precognition, were no better than they had been while he had been imprisoned. And it was the foresight that he missed, that he needed, the most.
Had this been the right thing to do?
+ + + + + Saturday Morning – Enlightenment
"No, I'm not going to move in with you."
Sylvia was busy putting on her socks and shoes, sitting on the bottom corner of his bed. She had retrieved her clothes that had been scattered across the room the night before and had pulled new ones, typical for her, a long denim skirt and gauzy blouse, out of the overnight bag she always seemed to be carrying these days. She was getting ready to get onto work.
"But it would solve so many problems," Gold was sitting up in the center of the large bed they had just shared. He spoke quietly, in that reasonable, soft voice that had so often bullied intimidated and unsettled his adversaries. "You could have all your clothes here and not have to worry about packing something up each and every day."
"But remember," she countered, not the least bit intimidated by the man or his voice tone. "I'm your mistress, not your wife. As soon as I can pay off my loan, I'm out of here. I don't want to get into anything that is semi-permanent."
Gold grimaced. "Ah princess, you wound me. After all that we have shared, after all the pleasure I have given you, you would sever our relationship as soon as you can?"
She smiled back at him, a brilliant, glowing smile. "You betcha." She softened a moment, "I would agree that you make me feel wonderful and you've taught me a lot about sex…"
"I've taught you everything you know about sex," he interrupted, correcting her, gratified to see a blush stain her cheeks.
"All right. You've taught me everything I know about sex," she admitted. She turned to him and spoke seriously, "But I am a girl and, and, well just sex isn't enough. And I feel that you just want to make me more accessible to you and your. . . desires."
There was pause.
"Well then, marry me," he responded.
She stopped dressing and looked directly at Gold, a touch of irritation emerging. "Be still my heart. How could I possibly refuse such a well-thought through proposal?" she flounced off the bed, finished with fastening her shoes and began pacing the floor of his bedroom.
"I can just imagine this," she went on. "All of my friends will ask, because this is what girls do, 'How did he propose? Was it just too romantic?' And will I be able to say oh, he took me out to a classy restaurant and then dropped the ring into a glass of champagne? Or that there was a note on my shop door which led me on a treasure hunt recalling all the significant events in our relationship, all the way up to me finding, oh my, the ring? Or he hired an airplane to pull a banner asking me to marry him?" She wheeled on him, her voice rising with her increasing irritation, "Or anything else that had been remotely planned or given more than two seconds worth of thought! No! I'll have to tell them that he rolled over after a night of debauchery, when he'd gotten tired of having me schlep clothes over because it cut into his debauch time to ask me to marry him!"
There was another pause.
"So you're saying 'no'?"
She gave him a wry smile and started out the bedroom. "You're a smart man. You figure it out." She stopped at the door and without looking at him said, "Maybe I just want a little magic." She sighed, "Now, come out and get me when you are ready."
She failed to see the slow smile that appeared on his face. He knew, he knew now what he had to do, what he should have done, what he should have known from the beginning. But it could be dangerous—for him.
+ + + + + A Better Fairy Tale
She followed her usual morning routine. While he dressed, impeccably dapper as always, and shaved, she would spend time with her precious rowan trees. He had quickly installed a stone bench just within the glade for her and she spent every minute of her free time simply sitting with her trees, breathing in their fragrance. She often adopted such an expression of bliss that Gold actually felt some jealously towards the damn trees, as if she preferred their company to his. Which she does, he admitted to himself.
As he did every morning, when he was ready, he would walk widdershins around his house and out to the glade to retrieve her. She would then select a flower for his suit from the myriad of fresh bouquets she kept all over the house and they would walk to Granny's Diner for breakfast.
This morning she broached a topic that had never fared well between them, but since they were already mutually irritated with each other, she figured she had nothing to lose. "Ready yet to tell me why you keep the spinning wheel?"
He sighed, "I keep telling you, but you don't believe me."
"Yeah, right. Like I'm supposed to believe you!"
"I have never lied to you, princess." Although, I may have not told you the entire truth every time.
"In another life you used to spin straw into gold and some day you may want to go back to that? I'm supposed to believe you? You can't come up with a better fairy tale?" It was her turn to sigh. She decided, as she had on all previous occasions, to just drop it.
+ + + + + Tolerance
Now, it had taken her many mornings to finally convince him to join her at the Diner for breakfast. Although he owned the Diner, he had not previously patronized the facility. This Saturday morning, as always, Ruby waited on them and she was obviously very leery of Gold. She didn't like him; that was clear. She especially didn't like how he was treating her friend. But she did like Sylvia and since Sylvia didn't seem particularly traumatized by the relationship, then she would tolerate him. Besides, Ruby was smart enough not to antagonize her landlord and employer.
Sylvia ate oatmeal and had Greek yogurt with fresh berries on the side. She would mix her coffee with equal amounts of milk before she drank it. She enjoyed her food.
Gold had never been a breakfast eater and usually relied on just two cups of black coffee. He enjoyed the company.
Outside of the Diner, there would always be a warm embrace and kiss, even if they had been arguing, before the two parted company, she to her little florist's shop, Faline's, and he to his pawn shop.
+ + + + + It's Complicated
Emma typically had breakfast in the Diner, but since Gold had taken to sharing breakfast with Sylvia, she did not feel at all comfortable intruding on their tete-a-tete and now elected to sit alone in her own back booth. Her own relationship with Gold was complicated. He plainly respected her and obviously enjoyed occasionally verbally sparring with her, but tolerated no disrespect or intrusion into his personal life – and Sylvia was clearly a part of his personal life.
Emma regarded him, first and foremost, as a scumbag and a predator. He certainly had a history of taking advantage of innocent young girls. Hell, he had a history of taking advantage of any and everybody. She had learned this from Ruby and Mary Margaret and any and everybody else who would dare to talk about the man. A dangerous man, indeed.
At the same time, she also knew he would sometimes do incredibly generous things for people; he kept these acts very quiet and secret, as if he were uncomfortable with someone finding out he could do the decent thing. She already had uncovered a couple of acts of kindness that he had done and suspected there were others that she didn't know about. A complex man, indeed.
At some point every morning, without fail, Gold would always make eye contact with her and he would always greet her, "Good morning, Ms. Swan. Lovely day." Once, when Emma had observed that the weather was grey, cold and rainy, and hardly lovely, Gold had given his slight smile and replied "I'm not referring to the weather," and had given Sylvia a warm, affectionate glance. It had seemed such a genuine moment. Her own superpower, knowing when someone was telling the truth, had made her wonder if the man didn't actually have some real feelings for her friend.
+ + + + + A Dull Spoon
Rather than engaging in the previous breakfast conversations, Emma had adopted the habit of dropping by the florist's shop mid-morning a few times a week to get updates. Now she was well aware that Gold was well aware of what she was doing but that didn't stop her. She wanted him to be 'well aware.' She wanted him to know that Sylvia had friends.
She shared Mary Margaret's flower dilemma and told Sylvia that the pretty school teacher would likely drop by to see if she could get some help with it.
"I won't have much to tell her, but she's welcome to see what I have on the orders," she said. She paused and then she confessed, "I got another proposal this morning."
"Really! When's the wedding?" asked Emma, in mock surprise.
"On come on. He had asked me again to move in with him and when I had refused, it was like "well then, marry me." Sylvia explained. "Not really a proposal. More like a way to get his way with me."
Emma scrunched up her nose. "Uh Sylvia, I think he's already getting his way with you."
"No, I don't mean that. He clearly wants to move to something more permanent. He really wants to get me to move in with him. And I know if ever I do that, I won't have the strength to move out on him. " She leaned in towards Emma. "I don't know that there is any future in a relationship based just on good sex." She paused thinking it through, "Actually, I think the sex is fantastic. Well I guess it is. I don't have anything else to compare it with."
"You mean you don't have much else to compare it with," corrected Emma.
Sylvia caught her eyes. "No Emma, I don't have anything else to compare it to."
Emma was startled. She suddenly put together a truly disturbing picture and momentarily her sense of indignation, even outrage, got the better of her. "Oh my. . . oh my! You were a. . . I should have shot him then and there! You are half his age! He forced you. . . I can still go shoot him for you right now! Here, I'll give you my gun and you can go shoot him. Maybe we can both get guns and go shoot him together." She began to pace. "But first we can get a dull spoon and together we can. . ."
Sylvia started to laugh and held up her hand. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, but no, thank you. I know how things look, but it's not what it seems to be." Sylvia hesitated. "Emma, I'm beginning to think that I am falling in love with the man. I know you think he has put a spell on me or something. I know other people can't imagine why or see what I see in him. But there is a good person in there. And he treats me like a queen, ok maybe more like a princess. I know we had a bit of a rocky start, but I believe he has some feelings for me too."
Emma wanted to scream at her. Rocky start, my ass! That's white washing it. He raped you! He set it up so you would have no options, backed you into a corner, spent a couple of nights convincing you he was the perfect man, then used every ounce of his worldly experience to take advantage of your innocence, sweeping you away on a wild sexual ride. But somehow she held her tongue. Mary Margaret help me out here. Who are am I to judge? She seems more or less happy, well happier than anyone else in this cursed town.
She instead took a deep breath and asked, "How did you get to be your age and not have any experience? You are drop-dead gorgeous. Are you telling me that nobody hit on you before Gold?"
Sylvia just shrugged. "I guess I didn't get out much. I was just never around very many boys or men. I wasn't ashamed of being a virgin, you know, I just didn't wear it like a badge."
Sylvia continued, unaware of Emma's deep, serious disapproval of her lover. "Well there is something else I haven't told you, haven't told anyone. I've had two really, really great business months, mostly weddings," she hesitated and chose not to mention the one funeral, "and I now have the money to completely pay him off. Not just to catch up to my bill, but completely pay him off. That would get me out of the arrangement."
"And you haven't paid him off, because. . . " started Emma. What kind of hold did Gold have over her?
"I don't know. I guess I'm still hoping that he will do something to make me feel that this is more than a business deal. Maybe if he would just tell me that he enjoys my company. I'm not expecting gooey romance, poetry, boxes of chocolates, anything like that. He's not that kind of man. But I want something more than just 'Run to my bedroom and strip.' or 'See when you wear the blindfold, everything is more intense.'"
It was Emma's turn to hold up her hand. "Ee-uu. I don't think I need to hear anymore. I'm not a big fan of dominant-submissive relationships."
"Is that what I'm in?" Sylvia asked innocently.
"Oh yeah. He's definitely got you in a . . . he's got you." Emma struggled to what to say next. She opted for a question, "Sylvia, are you sure what you are feeling is love? Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between love and sex, especially great sex."
"How can I know? I don't know how I feel and I don't know how he feels. I think that he is more concerned with possession than with affection. I'm something he wanted and now he has me, he doesn't want to let me go."
Emma agreed. "Could be. Ask yourself how do you feel. Would you marry him if he asked you? And really, really, why haven't you paid him off?"
"I don't know," confessed Sylvia, feeling more upset today than she had in a while. OK, so maybe she wasn't quite as happy as she should be.
+ + + + + A Small, Personal Favor
It was later that same Saturday, around noon. Sylvia was alone in the shop mulling over her earlier conversation with Emma. The door chime tinkled and she looked up.
"Mary Margaret, Emma had said you would be over. How can I help you?" Sylvia greeted her warmly.
Mary Margaret seemed hesitant as she walked into Faline's.
"Sylvia, I'm hoping you can tell me who's sending the flowers. I know they are coming from your shop. But there's never a note or any clue who is ordering them sent, so I thought I would come and see you to see what you can tell me"
Sylvia nodded her head in agreement and produced her orders and receipts. The two women were so engrossed in looking over Sylvia's receipts that neither of them heard a third person enter the shop. The door chime had not tinkled as it did for every other person who entered the shop.
"Here," Sylvia was saying to Mary Margaret. "I knew you would be coming in, so I got together everything I have. This is what happens. When I come in on Monday morning there is a white envelope waiting for me on my floor. I'm guessing it was put through the mail slot. Plain, white, number ten envelope. You can get them at any drugstore or office supply. Inside is a typed request. Here you can read all of them," she handed Mary Margaret the short stack of notes.
Please send to Mary Margaret Blanchard your best bouquet of flowers with one white rose, no other roses and no other white flowers read the first note. Sylvia had written on the note 50 dollars included.
The second note read the same, except the number of white roses was increase to two, the third note increased the number of white roses to three. On each one, Sylvia had noted the 50 dollar cash payment.
"You obviously have a secret admirer. But a very shy one. I'm suspecting something will happen around the seventh or maybe the twelfth white rose," observed Sylvia.
"So you have no idea who is sending these?"
"He doesn't even send the money the same, sometimes it's been a 50, sometimes two 20's and a 10, and so on. No pattern," added Sylvia.
"You get the note every Monday?" The third person in the room spoke up.
Both women jumped, they were so startled. Neither had heard Mr. Gold enter or step up until he spoke. Mary Margaret took an involuntary, unconscious step backwards. Emma was right, the man was creepy. It was like he had just popped up out of nowhere.
Gold apologized. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to intrude. I had come to ask Ms. DuBois out for lunch and I overheard your exchange. Ladies," he continued, "if the note is here Monday morning, it is being delivered sometime after Saturday closing time. It would be an easy matter to have the store watched to find out who is delivering the envelope and go from there." He addressed Mary Margaret directly. "Would you like to have me look into it for you, my dear?"
Mary Margaret shook her head, obviously unnerved. "No. . . no, thank you. I couldn't afford to pay for anything like that."
"I wouldn't expect monetary payment," he assured her, his voice as smooth as silk. "It would be more like you would owe me a small, personal favor."
Mary Margaret shook her head. She was not sure how to refuse without offending the man. And refuse him she must. She didn't want to owe Gold anything.
Sylvia intervened. "You're scaring my friend, darling." She turned to Mary Margaret. "I'll talk with him and get back with you. I'll let you know if we're going to be able to find out anything."
"Thank you, I'd appreciate that," she said. She nodded to Mr. Gold, "Thank you," and scurried out of the store.
Sylvia turned on Gold. "Now why do you have to do that? Scare my friends like that? These people are terrified of your 'favors.' They always seem to work out to your advantage."
"You would do things for people for nothing," he accused.
"No, I would do things for people because it's the right thing to do."
He smiled at her. "That's not how the world works," he added, "And that's why you grace my bed, princess."
She flinched. "So why are you here in the middle of the day? Are you looking for a little noon delight or lunch?"
"Yes, dear," he responded. He changed her sign to "Be back at 1:30" and locked her shop door from the inside.
+ + + + + Complete Cooperation
He walked her back to her shop after lunch.
"Will you look into Mary Margaret's situation? Have my store watched for her?" she asked him.
"Are you taking advantage of our personal relationship for gain?" he actually laughed at her. "I'm so proud of you. Of course I will. And of course, as I'm doing this as a small, personal favor for you, I will expect your complete cooperation in a little something I am planning for tonight. A little magic," he finished with his crooked smile.
"All right. I understand. Whatever you want." She didn't give the matter any additional thought before she reopened her shop and changed the sign back to "Open." "Now shoo, we both have some phone calls to make."
She called Mary Margaret to let her know that Mr. Gold would have the store watched. Mary Margaret was immensely pleased and relieved, but she hesitated. "I can't be under any obligation to Mr. Gold, Sylvia. What is he expecting in return? He doesn't do anything without expecting payment."
"It's not going to be a problem Mary Margaret," Sylvia tried to reassure her.
"It's not going to cost you anything, is it?" Mary Margaret asked. "I don't want you to pay off my debt."
Ouch, now this hit close to home. "He's happy to do it for you," Sylvia finally said and ended the phone call. She shuddered. She knew there would be some cost, some consequences for her. Probably something, what was the term that Emma had told her, dominant-submissive? Yes, something that enabled him to exert his dominance over her. He had never been brutal with her, but there were those occasional times (like earlier that very afternoon) that he would simply take her, requiring submission from her, sex without preliminaries, without regard to her comfort or her satisfaction. Standing by herself in her own shop, she felt some embarrassment that these rendezvous always produced incredible firework responses from her, her own body betraying her. Somehow she thought she should be angry about his treatment of her, not walking away as satiated as a fat cat after a bowl of cream.
What was wrong with her? She was being used. She knew she was being used. She needed to pay him off after tonight. She needed to move on.
+ + + + + A Little Magic
When Sylvia arrived at his house, it was already twilight. The air was cool, but not cold. She was surprised to find a white note on the door. Princess was written on the envelope. She took it down and opened it.
Put on your green silk dress. Take down your hair and leave off your shoes.
Walk widdershins around the house. Follow the fireflies.
What is he doing? She thought. She went inside and found the dress laid out in her bedroom. It was The Dress, the one she had worn at their first. . . encounter. She had not worn it since. She took down her hair and removed her shoes. She went out the front door and began to walk around the house.
Then she saw them, three fireflies in front of her, along the path to her rowan trees. They flitted and danced in front of her and were soon enough joined by others, all leading her down the path. There was a full moon.
How is he doing this?
The glade had been lit with lanterns, each filled with a dozen of more fireflies. At the edge of her glade she saw that her bench had been covered with a thick white cloth and layered in cushions. It was very inviting. She gasped when she saw that the fireflies, joined by others, actually flew into the shape of a large heart above the cushioned bench. How is he doing this? She stood a moment not moving, awed by the display. This looks like magic. The little fireflies continued to return to her and would try to lead her up to the bench. So she finally walked up to her bench, turned, sat and waited.
It was a simple enough spell, quiet the outside noises. When you talk, it sounds like you are standing next to the person.
She saw him standing just outside the glade and he began to speak to her. She felt a wash of energy come over her as if a gentle tide was coming in. He spoke to her in a gentle voice, "You asked for magic. Here is magic." And he held up was that a wand? Blazes of grey and green fireflies sprung up around her, lighting up the area around the bench. Her green silk dress changed to silver-grey. How is he doing this?
He paused before beginning again, "You don't remember this, but you once told me that I intrigued you, that I was kind and gracious and you liked me very much. You told me you loved me, that I was your true love."
He paused again and hesitantly continued, "You told me that you had not had a mate before, although you were old enough. And although I was honored and humbled, I had to decline your incredible, wonderful offer because of terrible things going on in my own life, but I promised you, if ever I could, I would return to you and, if you still wanted me, I would grant your request to be your mate."
Sylvia felt that she had stopped breathing. She felt the wind pick up and the trees move around her. Some of the rowan limbs reached down as if to caress her, comfort her. She felt there was an energy growing around her, feeding into her. She clasped her hand around the pale green crystal she always wore around her throat, the crystal he had given her that first evening together. Light began to flicker in the crystal. She stood. A memory seeped up into her consciousness.
"You gave me this once long ago as a token of your feelings," she held up the crystal. "And I gave it back to you to give you strength. It was on a black ribbon. A long time later, you gave it to me again, but now on this gold chain. The light had gone out of the crystal, but now it comes back again." She struggled to regain the memories. "You were injured and came to me. I took care of you. I didn't like you at first, but I came to like you," She laughed, "I remember I wanted to 'propagate' with you. What an odd choice of word," she observed.
He was watching the crystal closely. It was beginning to burn steadily and gain brightness. "Not for someone of your kind," he said gently. "Faline," he called her true name. "Do you remember me? Do you still love me?"
The green crystal was burning brightly now. She turned to him. "I did come to love you. I used to call you 'Goblin.'" Her face changed to show deep concern. "They had hurt you, they had taken your magic, they had imprisoned you. I came to you, but I could not help you. You told me that a change was coming, that I would forget, that I would not know you. But I do now. You are Rumpelstiltskin. You are my true love."
She closed her eyes and swayed with the trees. When she opened her eyes, the pale green colors seemed to swirl. "Your debt to me is paid, Goblin. You have returned my memories to me. I remember everything."
She looked at him, standing away from her. He had remained motionless, watching her closely. He was wary, alert and vigilant.
"Why do you stand outside my glade, Goblin?" there was a hint of suspicion in her voice.
He was still hesitant. He confessed. "Because I am afraid."
"Now, why should you be afraid?"
He began slowly, "When I first came here, I took a while to come back into my powers and not all are back, even now. My power source is myself. But your powers come from both inside of you and from the Earth itself. You can channel the energy around you."
She studied him puzzled. "You are concerned that I may have immediate access to my powers?" Her voice became soft and silky. "Now why should that be a concern, my darling?"
"Because," he paused again, "In a moment, you are going to remember all the things I have done to you in this world. What I, as a man, did to you, an innocent maiden. And all that I have done since to keep you in thrall. And it may not go well for me."
She stood quietly a moment, closing her eyes while she meshed two worlds of memories. His first warning that there was a problem was feeling the wand whip out of his hand and fly across the glade. She opened her eyes, which had turned the color of emeralds, glinting and marble-like under the full moon. When she did speak, her voice was hard, a tone he had not heard from her before, "You selfish, egotistical, self-interested, arrogant, conceited, condescending bastard imp."
"I take it that you are remembering things," he remarked blandly.
"You should be afraid, you insufferable. . ." Sylvia struggled to find the right word, and as hard as it was for her to say, she managed to get out, "prick!"
OK, so she was a little put out with him.
"Now, if that's your worst, dear," he began.
She did not let him finish. "You took the basest advantage of a truly innocent child! You just had to bring me back and you were willing to do whatever it took, whatever it cost me." She spat out the next words, "I . . . was. . . terrified. . . of . . . you."
"But you're over that now, right?"
She drew herself up, straightening herself like an iron poker, with anger and spine in equal portions. "I actually threw up that first night."
"Well you were actually pretty drunk that first night," he reminded her. Probably not the best thing to say.
"I was drunk because I was terrified!"
He repeated his earlier words, "But you're over that now, right?"
"Not by half! Not by a quarter! Not until I see you suffer some small fraction of what you put me through." She began to pace, her rage increasing with each step. "And it's not just what you put me through those first few nights, but so many nights. . . and days. . . after! This afternoon, how high-handed was that!"
"Well, you seemed to be enjoying yourself!"
"You have done everything you could to make me trust you and believe in you, while all along you were using me!"
"I recall quite clearly that you were enjoying yourself," he protested. "How did you describe it? Fireworks! Faline, I thought we were in love with each other, that you would want me to do whatever it took to bring you back. I was trying to break the spell! I had tried the crystal, then a kiss, your trees, when they didn't work, I had to try sex."
"And when that didn't work, you just kept," she shook her head, ever the lady, she couldn't bring herself to say the crude word. She finished, "trying sex!"
"Ah yes, trying sex," he agreed. "I have to admit, I liked that part."
Again, probably not the best thing to say.
She stopped her pacing. "I am a free spirit, not to be commanded by the likes of you, not to be intimidated by the likes of you, not to be used by the likes of you. I am powerful in my own right. How could you not trust me to put this together on my own?"
He waved her off, "Frankly, I had begun to think that you'd never get to it on your own." No, definitely not the best thing to say.
"You thought that!" she shouted at him. Catching the furious look on her face, for the first time in a very, very long time, he stepped back from another living creature.
"You kept me as your whore!" She had begun pacing again, but then stopped and looked directly at him. "You said you were afraid. You better be afraid, Goblin, very afraid. Why don't we see how much power I may have right now." She brought her hands from her sides and crossing them in front of her in a grand sweeping gesture.
He stepped back again and quickly, but not quickly enough. Things began to happen very fast. Standing as he was between an old willow and an even older oak, he suddenly found their above-ground tree roots had entwined themselves around his feet, preventing him from moving away. The ground began to shift, and soil began to swirl around him, settling around his feet in a rapidly rising hill of soil, to his ankles, to his knees, to his thighs, to his waist. The dirt got into his eyes and nose as is whirled around him, settling down around him. For a moment he thought she might continue with piling on the dirt until she buried him alive. But then she stopped.
"Now, that should hold you in place. It would seem that my Earth magic is marginally accessible. Although I think you are right, that it will take a while to gain full strength."
He was in trouble.
He suddenly felt a lash from the willow and was hit hard with several acorns from the oak. "Ouch, ouch. Not fair!" he protested. "I never hit you." Willow branches wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides.
She agreed. "No, but I do remember you threatened to spank me on several occasions."
"It was sexual game, Ow, ow! I would never Ow! hurt you. Ow!" He was still being pelted with acorns and occasionally lashed from the willow. With his arms pinned, he was unable to shield himself.
She smiled and he felt chilled. "Maybe that's what this is, too. Are you having fun yet?"
Later he would recognize that again he had not said quite the right thing, "No!"
"Then let's try something else. I have air and water magic also, although not as much as earth magic. We are more like casual acquaintances. No it's not at all like the close relationship I have with my very good earth friends. Let me try this," she brought up one hand and did a single circle in the air with her forefinger.
He could feel the wind and then a spray of water. A small, intense dark cloud gathered immediately above his head and it began to rain on him. Great, my own personal rain cloud!
She admired her work. "Now that should settle the soil down." She considered another moment. "And make you wet." She shook her head, "No, I'm definitely not at full strength."
He grimaced. Just how powerful was she?
She sat on her bench considering him. He was drenched and dirty and looked thoroughly miserable. The willow branches twined around him, squeezing.
It continued to drizzle on him.
She began again. "My mother was a very wise woman. She had learned that fire, which is greatly feared by most dryads as it can surely kill us, can also be our friend. She encouraged each of her daughters to court the fire powers, to, if you will, to develop at least a working relationship with fire. Shall I see if I can still control the fire power? This could be dangerous if I can't manage it."
He seemed truly alarmed. "Princess Faline, remember I did all that I did to try to bring you back. I did it because I love you."
"I love you too darling. But right now, I'm so very angry with you. You were very mean to me." And a slender shaft of lightning struck near his right hand which was resting on the top of the wet soil he was bogged down into. Little fire creatures appeared in the mud. "Loki!" he swore the name of the ancient god of chaos. "This is too much, witch! Stop it!"
"Now, did you ever stop when you had me at your mercy, even when I would plead with you to do so?" Another lightning spear hit near his left hand causing him to jerk, painfully, away in the other direction and cry out. Like the first bolt it left little self-sufficient fires burning on their own, like tiny fire salamanders, undeterred by the rain.
Bound as he was by the willow it was difficult for him to maneuver. "Listen to me," he tried to talk.
"Witch, you named me?" She shook her head. "No longer that terrified young woman you had in your power that you assaulted, molested repeatedly? No longer your little, sweet, docile fairy princess?"
"Listen to me," he pleaded again, trying to shake the rain and dirt from his face and still keeping an eye on the tiny fires now creeping up all around him. He spoke as calmly as he could, "I had planned to kneel before you tonight and give you this." With considerable difficulty given the branches binding his arms to his sides, he managed to twist his hand up and reach into his inside suit jacket pocket and he retrieved a small box. He held it out to her as best he could. It flew out of his hand directly to her. She opened the little box and found inside a delicate ring, not with a typical diamond, but with a pale green stone embraced by tiny delicate golden rowan fronds embedded with tiny red ruby berries and equally tiny diamonds.
He raised his voice in his emotional state. "I had it made especially for you. I promise you that it took more than two seconds. Tonight, when I made this proposal, I had planned to have the fireflies spell out your name, but you've scared the crap out of the little guys and they've all flown off, so I'll have to skip that part. Oh, stop that!" he was momentarily distracted by the willow tree which had swiped at him again. "So here goes. Witch, fairy, princess, dryad, sorceress, woman, will you still have me? Even though I am a goblin and you are a fairy princess?" And three times he asked the question, "Will you marry me, Faline, will you marry me, will you marry me?" he proposed.
She seemed a bit calmer after hearing his outburst and the proposal. She paused, trying to pull her thoughts together, the old and the new. She looked at him and then down at herself. "I am for the moment humankind now, aren't I? I will consider this in the manner of a human female since right now I am a human female. That is, I will take my time." She put on his ring, smiled demurely and walked away from him, wending her way back into the glade.
"Princess!" he called, "it's still raining on me! I'm still half-buried!" he called out to her. "There are some little fires that are burning and getting really close!" How the hell did she keep the fires going in the rain?
"If you want me, first come into my glade and mate with me as male to dryad," she called back to him. "I will give you my answer afterwards if I am pleased to."
He felt it, like a small implosion, a luminous cloud abruptly washing over the glade and collapsing into itself. He knew the moment she acknowledged what she was, what her true self was, that the curse for them, for the glade, was broken.
Watching her proudly walk away from him to plunge deep into her glade of trees, and, very careful to keep it under his breath, he couldn't help but add one more name to his list, "Bitch." But he was smiling. This was the Faline he remembered, the strong, self-reliant young female.
But now, he'd been left alone, still occasionally pummeled by the oak's acorns and tightly encased in willow branches, still being rained on by his personal cloud, watching the little fires creep up ever closer towards him. He remained still for a moment.
"Well hell. I should be able to manage this," he said to himself. He began to pull his own powers together, stilling the trees, pushing away the branches, the cloud, some the soil, dismissing the tree roots from around his feet.
Still half-buried in mud, but free of the confining branches, he held out his hand to one of the little fires and clicked his tongue in a wordless invitation. The tiny flame climbed into his hand, like a very small eager kitten. His own magic, like hers, was earth driven, but, unlike his princess, fire was his next best friend and despite the display he had provided for her, he had had no real fear at all of the little pyric entities she had conjured. He stroked the small flame with the back of his finger.
"Go away, little one, it's not safe for you to stay near the dryad's glade. I have a fireplace in House of Shadows. You are invited to take your friends and go there and play if you wish." The little flames all promptly disappeared.
Climbing completely out of the wet soil, really mud, was not as easy as he had hoped it would be, but not as difficult as he had feared. He did manage to crawl out soon enough, retaining no dignity, dirty and wet, and to cap it off, he thought, his thousand dollar suit that he had put on for this very special occasion, ruined, far beyond his ability to salvage. But, once he was able to stand, he shook himself off and marched into the glade. Sylvia was adorable and sweet, docile and innocent. Faline was strong and demanding, electrifying (literally) and rousing. It was his luck they were the same woman.
+ + + + + Transformation
She had not tried to hide from him. He knew he had been forgiven.
It was still dark, probably very late evening or very early morning. Deep piles of leaves made a fragrant bed for the couple. She lay on her back next to him. In the moonlight she was looking at the ring that she had put on her finger. With a sudden sense of wonderment she said, "Look at my hand, my love."
Her skin had turned silver-green. He looked at her and saw that her ashen hair now fell in the grey-green feathered lengths, her eyes were large with green and silver swirling colors. She took his breath away, she was so beautiful, a true fairy princess. As the moonlight broke through, she could see that he too had transformed back to his goblin-form. She asked him. "What has happened?"
"We have completely broken the curse as it affects us. I would suspect that the change is only in effect when we are in your glade. Actually, I would hope so, it would be hard for me to conduct business in this form," he observed in his own ever-present self-interests. "So, when we come here, we will be our true selves; but out there, we will still appear to be among the cursed ones."
She nodded, following along. She continued to hold up her hand admiring the ring. "This is beautiful. You had this made especially for me?"
"Some time ago," he confirmed, watching the little dryad's face as she touched and caressed the ring, ever entranced by pretty things.
She rolled over to her stomach, "I think you are much more beautiful as a goblin than as a human," she observed. "As a human your skin is so pale and dull. Am I an attractive human?" she asked.
He laughed. "Vain creature! You must surely know, you are astonishingly beautiful in both worlds."
"Really," she enjoyed hearing him say the words. "Are you as powerful in the other world as you are in Fairyland?"
"I am," he said matter-of-factly. "In that world I have money and it is real power."
She thought back. "Yes, I remember how you got me into your bed the first time. It was through money. You had it. I didn't." She considered, putting together her memories of two lives. "You are just as disliked and feared in the other place as you are in Fairyland. Was that a wise course of action? You have as many enemies in both worlds."
"Magic, money, control, fear, all are related. With one, comes the other."
"Who else knows all?" she asked.
"Excellent question," he complimented her. "She is as wise as she is beautiful. There is one other."
"Let me guess. The Dark Queen, Regina Mills, she is the one who cast the spell. My animal friends told me this." She hesitated a moment. "Their voices are not as loud in the outside world."
"There are others who suspect," he told her. "A young woman."
Faline guessed again, "My friend, Emma Swan?"
"Very good."
"She did not have a place in Fairyland, but clearly has a place in the other world."
"She is destined to break the curse. But I don't know how," he admitted.
"Another is the boy. The one you are said to have procured for the Mayor, the Dark Queen. Then it is true," she concluded. "He also did not have a place in Fairyland."
"You are right again, princess."
She sat up. "It was showing me the magic that gave me back to my memories."
He hesitated. "You told me what you needed, something that took more than two minutes worth of thought, something with magic. All I did was to show you some real magic."
"Delightful," she laughed. "But I guess I won't be able to tell my friends that you used real magic to help me remember that I was a tree fairy who had long ago had proposed to you. That you had worked long and hard to get me to come back to you just so you could accept my proposal."
"And live happily ever after," he reminded her. "Do you want to tell them the parts where you called me a prick, accused me of treating you like my whore and then kicked my ass?"
"And you called me a witch?" she countered.
"Perhaps, you could tell them that I proposed by lighting up the garden with firefly lanterns, declared my undying love and affection and pleaded for your hand in marriage with a ring I had made especially for you. And you graciously accepted." He realized something. "You are graciously accepting my proposal?"
She gave him a wicked smile. "Oh, I don't know. I think I need to think about it for another twenty, or thirty or even forty minutes before I say for sure."
+ + + + + Trust
They had begun to walk back to his house. As he had suspected the moment they emerged from the glade, they returned to their human forms. The glade was now a part of Fairyland.
As they walked, Sylvia asked curiously, "In my glade, am I as powerful as you, more powerful than you?"
He hesitated. He was not a fool. It had been important that she regain some stature in the relationship, to not be subservient, to be independent. She would not know, could not know that he had allowed her to take her revenge for his haughty, imperious treatment of her. Right now, his powers dwarfed hers, but she couldn't know this, could never know this that had he so wished, he could have crushed her like a rowan berry. She would likely have trouble forgiving him, hell, she might never forgive him.
Besides, he also knew that, likely soon enough, her powers could have grown sufficiently; to the point that she would really be able to inflict some real pain and suffering on him, especially if she ever again got this pissed off with him. He wanted her to have some desire to curb herself. He didn't think she had ever really wanted to hurt him, not truly hurt him. He hoped that she didn't want to really hurt him.
"Princess," he responded, carefully wording his answer. "I acknowledge that right now your powers are indeed impressive."
She looked at him very closely, "You are so careful, too careful with how you answer, but you do not answer my question. You are protecting me, I think."
Well damn, he'd never realized the extent of her own empathic skills. She had seen through him
"You were considered the most dangerous man in the kingdom and I am to believe that I overcame you with a pile of dirt, a rain cloud and some little fire plugs." She shook her head. "You are such a liar and a trickster."
"I have never lied to you," he promised and shrugged, "You are perhaps the only one I can say that to. Otherwise, I would not advise anyone to trust me."
He finished walking her back to his house and up to his bedroom.
+ + + + + Never Tell
He had gotten creative, a counter-balance to the abrupt self-serving time with her that he had taken earlier the previous day. It was all about her satisfaction. He had her at his mercy and did not stop when she pleaded for him to. She was exhausted, but well satiated and satisfied. Fat cat and cream, indeed.
They were both resting when he spoke suddenly, almost laughing. "I just had an odd, important thought, one that has no place in our bedchamber, but one that you may find interesting. I am remembering a conversation I had with our Lady Mayor. She had come by my shop to congratulate me for finally bedding you. She assumed I had coerced you, which was quite true, but, of course, I didn't admit to such a thing. She then asked what I planned to do the day my fairy princess rolled over and found she had let a goblin into her bed."
"I guess she will be surprised to find out I was thrilled."
He became serious and solemn "Princess, under no circumstances, never, can she realize that you have regained your memories."
"Will she try to hurt me?"
"I have a geis on her that she will comply with any request I make, provided I say 'please.' I have requested that she leave us alone. I have to be careful making these requests as she is already suspicious about what I know. But she has considerable power and I imagine she is working on some way to sidestep the geis. " With some thought, he shared, "I think that once someone regains their memory, the rules of this reality are nullified and that person will become fair game."
"So she could try to hurt you and me?"
"So she will try to kill us," he replied.
Sylvia digested this information. "I understand. So, the Dark Queen is our enemy and therefore, we should probably be helping Emma."
He cleared his throat, "Understand this well, I'm in no real hurry to break the curse, Sylvia-Faline. Once the curse is broken, I am likely to be returned to that terrible prison and have my magic bound again. You will likely be well and truly confined to your glade. There are many advantages to us straddling the two worlds. We want to defer breaking the curse as long as possible, although," he added. "I have no objections to being a thorn in Regina's side."
"So I have to continue to pretend to be sweet, docile Sylvia?"
"First thing, princess, you are Sylvia. She's as much a part of you as that witch that knocked me around out there. And I like sweet, docile Sylvia."
Sylvia made a face. "That's because she does whatever you like in bed."
"Of course, but she's also fun and funny," he assured her. "She has many friends and I'm starting to believe that having friends could be a good thing. You can be Faline when you are just around me. I like her too. She challenges me and puts a little excitement, a little magic into my life."
"Be careful what you wish for. All magic has a price," she warned him. And then she had an abrupt new thought, "Do you think if we put your spinning wheel into my glade that it would work?"
"Perhaps." He had not given this any thought. "We shall have to see." Given how well they were getting along at the moment, he opted to carefully broach another difficult subject.
"Sylvia, I know you had the money to completely pay off your debt. Why did you not just pay up and get me out of your life?"
She was stunned. "You are a devil sometimes! How do you know these things?"
"I know where every dollar in this town is kept," he said. "Explain, please. Why did you not pay off your debt and walk away?"
She was hesitant. "Well for one thing, I thought it would only be a matter of time before something else came up and I would need another loan. And then, if I couldn't pay, it would be. . . well, awkward."
"To say the least," he agreed dryly. "I would have increased the requirements for you in any new deal."
"But really, I think, I didn't want it to be over," she confessed. "I was hoping for this."
+ + + + + An E Ticket
Sylvia and Gold had walked together to the Diner on Monday morning. They had agreed to keep things as if nothing else, beside the engagement, had changed. Sylvia had shown off her engagement ring. Emma and Ruby both hugged her, and gave her smiles and best wishes. All had seemed well on the outside. However, Gold was aware that Emma's hand had strayed to the handle of her police weapon and Ruby had given serious thought to spilling scalding hot coffee into his lap.
"Your friends don't approve, you know," Gold said to her in a low voice. "They think I'm exploiting you, using you, taking advantage of you, of your youth and inexperience."
She met his eyes, "And you're not?" She smiled at him. "You do exploit me, use me and take advantage of me." She waited until he had taken a drink of his coffee, leaned forward and whispered to him. "You kept me so exploited, used and taken advantage of this morning that I forgot to put on my underwear."
Gold nearly spewed his coffee.
He sat just looking at her, while she guilelessly finished her breakfast. He knew that she wasn't trying to be seductive. It was just who she was. However, he had experienced a full body shock and was going to have to seek relief as soon as possible.
She chattered on, wondering what they might find out about who was dropping the floral requests off for Mary Margaret, at what point they might want to set a date for the wedding, did he think he could drive her to Boston to look for a dress, she needed to get around to the planters in town today to do some routine maintenance, and so forth.
He watched her without moving. He felt on fire, burning. When Ruby brought the check (Gold had always insisted on paying full price for both of their breakfasts and usually left a twenty, keep the change, dear), he addressed her directly.
"Ms. Ruby, isn't there a back pantry," he nodded the direction "through that door?"
"Yes sir."
He rose and took Sylvia's hand and, instead of leading her out the front door, led her to the back of the Diner. He addressed Ruby, "We're going to need twenty, or thirty, or maybe even forty minutes. Don't disturb us," he ordered.
Ruby might have said something, but she heard a giggle from Sylvia.
She went and sat with Emma, sitting with her trying to manage her astonishment. "You caught all that?" she asked.
"Yeah, Sylvia said something that made him choke on his coffee, he didn't move for the next ten minutes, just sat and stared at her. Then he escorted her back to the nearest private area and now, well I'm pretty sure they aren't doing inventory back there."
Ruby agreed. "You know I'm wondering if we're concerned about the right person. " Emma looked puzzled, so she explained, "I always kinda thought that he had punched Sylvia's V-card and, given how it all came down, I kept feeling sorry for her and kept wishing I could do something for her. But now, it looks like she's the one who has him on an E-ticket ride. Could we have been wrong? What if she is the one who's using him? Is she planning on marrying him for his money and then killing him with sex? I mean, who's using who here?"
+ + + + + Sperm
It was nearly an hour before Gold emerged, dressed and dapper as ever. "Ms. DuBois will be along momentarily," he said to Ruby before leaving the Diner alone.
Ruby immediately went to the back pantry door and rapped. "Sylvia, are you all right?"
Sylvia answered immediately, "Never better." She opened the door and came out smiling, completely attired, looking only a little flushed. Her eyes sparkled. "That was remarkable. I'm surprised he still had the energy for the fireworks, you know, after the engagement night celebrations."
Watching the little florist walk out of the store, Ruby muttered to herself, "Or the sperm."
+ + + + + Static
He had gotten a late start, rare for him. But his underlings were waiting for him. They were still watching the video from the shop vigil and were previewing the video of the inside of the shop that had also been taken. The only preliminary finding was that there was nothing until around 3:30 am on Monday morning. Although nothing had occurred outside of the shop, the video of the shop inside had abruptly displayed static for about three minutes and, when the picture was restored, showed the white envelope on the floor where it had not been before. He had no idea how it could have gotten there, but his newly emerging precognition senses indicated super-ordinary forces. He would have Sylvia tell Mary Margaret that there would have to be a longer investigation.
+ + + + + Capable
Emma was a little unsure of what she would find when she came into the flower shop that Monday morning. After the engagement news and the trip to the back pantry for the couple, she felt that there was a definite change in the air. She was surprised to find that Gold was there at Sylvia's shop rather than in his own lair. He had been updating her about the video evidence, such as it was. He smiled and greeted Emma. "Ms. Swan, I know you have shared your good wishes with my future bride. You can be the first to congratulate me."
Like hell. Emma pulled back from him. "I'm sure you are very happy," she said neutrally.
"I am, Ms. Swan. This is what I have been hoping for. I will assure you that I will make the princess very happy."
Emma regarded him, "Why do you call her princess?" She had heard Sylvia's explanation, but there was something more, she just knew.
"Because she is one," he explained simply, nodding his head at Emma and stepping out of the shop. He glanced back. And so are you, Princess Emma, so are you.
Sylvia came back into the room. She had been in her refrigeration unit, readying the flowers for Mary Margaret's bouquet. "Where did he go? He had come in to tell me about his investigation of Mary Margaret's situation. Aggravating how he just appears and then disappears." She filled Emma in on the static interference and the mysterious appearance of the envelope during the missing three minutes.
"He really did the gushy proposal?" asked Emma, focusing on the primary reason she had dropped by.
Sylvia actually twirled around the room. "It was lovely, magical, a firefly-lit dinner, a declaration of undying love and giving me this exquisite one-of-a-kind ring for the engagement. I thought about it and said, 'yes.' Then we had wonderful, really wonderful sex, with all the fireworks. He does these amazing things with his hands and his mouth and his . . . you know." Sylvia blushed.
"This is what you truly want?" asked Emma, still not sure, but not wanting to deflate her friend. She felt she would never, could never be entirely sure about Gold.
Sylvia hesitated. When she did speak, she spoke softly and clearly, in a tone Emma had not heard from her before. "Emma, there are things about Mr. Gold and myself that set us apart from others. I can't even begin to explain, but we are right for each other. I know the age difference looks big to you right now, but it's not going to be important. I know it looks like he is exploiting me, but I want to be near him, by him, beside him. I'm doing the right thing for me."
Emma looked at the little florist closely. She was somehow very changed from the flighty timorous little girl she had first met. This woman seemed confident, she didn't need to ask permission or defend her actions. She seemed very capable of taking care of herself.
+ + + + + Intrusion
"Well, well, the town is all abuzz. Is it true, you actually proposed to the child and she actually accepted?" Mayor Regina walked presumptuously into his shop.
"Ms. DuBois has consented to be my wife, that is true."
"And what kind of duress do you have her under this time?"
"No duress. She accepted of her own free will."
She couldn't help but sneer. "I doubt that, you don't seem to have much truck with free will. Personally, I'm in the group that thinks you got her pregnant and being as this is your kid, you don't want anything to happen to it."
She continued, "It's really kinda disgusting, what is there, a twenty-five year age gap?" She leaned over to talk, their faces inches apart. "How does she stand having your hands on her? How long before the glamour of a rich older man falls before the allure of a healthy young stud? Do you really think you have any future with the girl?"
"What do you want, Regina?" He was getting tired of her.
"I'm just trying to figure out how you manage to live with yourself. I know you have done some pretty underhanded things in your time. This deal is certainly among your top dirty contracts."
He shrugged, "People always have choices."
"No, that's not how you work. I better not find out there is anything more going on here. If I find any reason I can use to take you off the streets, any reason, I'll do it in a heartbeat."
He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Dearie, are you sure, are you absolutely sure that you are ready for this battle? Because if you aren't, I'd suggest you drop it."
"You aren't going to say, 'please'?" Was she taunting him?
"I don't think I really need to." He leaned in towards her, backing her away just ever so slightly. "Do I?"
Regina didn't pursue the comment. Interesting that he had not pressed her with 'please.' Was the geis fading? Would it no longer work as well as it worked? Last night, she had felt something and knew that there had been a change. Any change in Storybrooke was usually not good for her, but this turn of events might work in her favor. It had not quite been a door opening, more like a window. If Gold was remembering things, if she could find this out for sure, she would no longer be bound by their agreement. She would have Gold right where she wanted him. The most dangerous man in town at her mercy.
+ + + + + Compromise
Not one to suffer discomfort any more than he had to, Gold quickly had an enclosed gazebo, almost a summer house, built in the center of Sylvia's glade. The workers had only the vaguest memories of their participation in the building project but he had paid them well. Inside the gazebo he had installed a large, comfortable bed. The only other item in the large gazebo was the spinning wheel, now with a single gleaming thread streaming from it. The entire project reflected their growing abilities to compromise with each other. It had met with Faline's desire to remain in the glade as much as possible and his own desire for continued comfort.
She was his wife now, married in a short, simple, outdoor ceremony in her glade with her friends invited. He had refused to wait any longer than he had to, insisting she jump the broom with him and legitimize their relationship with legal and traditional rituals telling her to forego the remote planning or giving the matter more than two seconds worth of thought.
He was lying next to her, caressing her, as always amazed at the smoothness and softness of her skin. He was letting his hand drift over her arms and breasts and stomach and then he stopped. He kept his face impassive, carefully considering what he was feeling, but realized that he was not mistaken. And she did not know. She didn't seem to suspect.
"Princess," he began. "Are you feeling alright?"
She stretched and yawned. "I've never felt better."
"You aren't tired or anything?" he persisted.
"I've never felt better. What are you getting at?"
He was as gentle as he could be. "Do you know you're pregnant?"
"Of course I'm not pregnant!" she protested. "I've not had any symptoms. Why would you even think that?
"I'm quite sure, princess. It's one of my many talents. I know when I see a woman if she's going to have a baby, now or in the future. I know if it's more than one, and I know if it's a boy or a girl."
She sat up and considered, looking at him the whole time. "Then it's true? Are you all right with this?"
"I'm thrilled," he reassured her. "I love children."
"It's what I've been wanting, too," she laughed. "Now, I can do this type of magic too – I know the part about a boy or a girl. Dryads breed true. Right? We will be having a daughter."
He sat for a moment and quietly told her. "We're having a boy."
fin