Once Upon a Thanksgiving
By Snapegirlkmf
A traditional Thanksgiving menu has a toddler Regina and the Gold children staging Operation Save the Turkey-a protest that will involve all of Storybrooke in a never to be forgotten Thanksgiving saga. Rumbelle, Swanfire, Snowing pairings. GS AU, Regal Baby fic!
1
Disturbing Realization
It all started with a trip to the movies.
Mayor David Nolan decided to spend some quality father/daughter time with his baby girl, and one day a few weeks before Thanksgiving, he took Regina to see the new animated flick Free Birds. Little did he know watching that innocent children's movie would spark something that would have far reaching consequences not just for the Golds and Charmings, but all of Storybrooke. But that was how it began.
They went to see the movie four days before Thanksgiving, since this year Thanksgiving was on the 28th, on a balmy crisp fall Sunday afternoon. David chose a matinee since then Snow could come with them, and they all piled in Snow's van and went to the theater. They spent a rather entertaining hour and a half watching the movie, and after it was over, went to go to Granny's for some ice cream.
"So how did you like the movie, Regina?" asked David as they were shown to a booth by Ruby.
"It was good," she answered. "I think Reggie was right, Daddy. We shouldn't have turkey for Thanksgiving."
David gave her tolerant smile. "Honey, that's just a movie. Eating turkey for Thanksgiving is . . . err . . . a tradition here. But don't worry about it. Let's have some ice cream, okay?"
"Okay," she agreed, though some of the things discussed in the movie continued to trouble her, but the lure of ice cream made her push them to the back of her mind for now. "I want chocolate and cookies and cream with whipped cream an' a cherry on top."
"And I think I'll have cherry vanilla with chocolate sauce and walnuts," Snow said.
"I'll have Rocky Road and walnuts with butterscotch sauce," David said.
Once they had all eaten their ice cream, they returned home to their loft so Regina could get together the Thanksgiving crafts she and Snow had made for the family. They would be going over to Gold's house tonight for dinner and so would Emma, Bae, and Henry, since it was Sunday, and the family usually tried to all eat together for dinner.
As they were driving down the road back home, Regina looked out the window and pointed to something she'd never noticed before. "Mommy, what's that big sign say?"
Snow looked out the window. "It's . . . umm . . . a sign for Mr. Fox's Turkey Farm, Regina."
"What's that?"
"It's a farm where he raises turkeys," her mother replied.
"Like for pets?"
"Um . . . well . . ." Snow hesitated to tell her what he was really doing with the turkeys.
"Pets?" David chuckled. "Now who'd want a turkey for a pet? They'd wreck the whole house. You'd need a big farm to keep a turkey."
"Like Mr. Fox has," Regina pointed out.
"Regina, Mr. Fox has a farm for turkeys, yeah, but they're not raised for pets," David began, braking for a light and thus missing Snow's frantic signals to change the conversation. Totally oblivious, he continued to educate his daughter on certain facts. "They're raised for Thanksgiving dinner."
Regina was horrified. "He . . . he's gonna eat the turkeys!?" she wailed.
"Well, yeah, because that's what you do with turkey," David told her.
Snow elbowed him.
"Hey! What?"
"David! Why'd you tell her that?" his wife hissed.
In the backseat, Regina started sniffling and crying, thinking about the poor turkeys fated to die on Thanksgiving.
"Well, because it's the truth," he began, puzzled. "And, you know, we should always try and tell the truth because—"
"Please! Now look what you've done!" Snow snapped, then she turned to try and comfort Regina. "Regina, honey, don't cry."
"But Mommy, all the turkeys is gonna die!" she sobbed.
"No . . . of course they're not. You know, not everybody eats turkey for Thanksgiving," Snow said, trying to do some damage control.
"They don't?"
"No. Some people eat . . . other things," Snow said brightly.
"Like pizza?" Regina suggested.
"Um . . . well . . . yeah . . ."
David rolled his eyes. That might be true, but they were having turkey for Thanksgiving. He'd already put a down payment on a bird from Mr. Fox's farm. Regina would get over her squeamishness. It was just because she'd seen that movie with the talking turkeys that she didn't want to eat one. It would pass, he thought, and turned and pulled into their parking space.
"C'mon, punkin'," he said to his daughter. "Let's go get all those cool Thanksgiving crafts you and Mommy made for everybody. You have to remind me who gets what, since I forgot."
"Okay, Daddy. I'll remind you . . . again." Regina said, with the air of having repeated something a million times and why couldn't you just remember what she'd said?
David unbuckled her from her car seat and she dragged him inside the loft and up the stairs, talking a mile a minute about the paper plate turkeys and cardboard hand turkeys she'd made, as well as the Indian headbands and pilgrim hats she'd made also. "An' everybody's gotta wear a hat for Thanksgiving," she told David, who chuckled evilly at that, imagining having to tell Rumple he had to wear one.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Gold's Victorian:
"Belle, why was the grumpy dwarf just leaving here? Did you need an emergency repair done?" Rumple asked as he saw Leroy leaving the house just as he had arrived home from the supermarket, carrying a few groceries for dinner.
Belle gave him a rather sheepish grin, cupping her now enormous belly. "No, just a little installation work in the living room. And the bedroom."
Gold stared around his formerly comfortable living room with its brown leather couch and recliners, Chippendale table, curio cabinet, and end tables. "What is this, dearie? Trellises along all of the walls? Pots of jasmine and tea roses growing up the walls? Why?"
Belle gestured about at the dozens of Japanese style pots and pretty wrought iron trellises holding all of the colorful flowers. "Aren't they just beautiful? And they smell divine!"
Rumple sniffed and wrinkled his nose, frowning. "That "divine" odor you smell is manure! You fertilized them with manure? In the house?"
"Oh, that's only temporary. The smell will clear out in a couple of days."
"But Belle, they'll just die without sunlight."
"Oh, no they won't. I had Leroy install grow lights."
"Grow lights? Like a . . . greenhouse?" Suddenly something blue and black flew past his nose. "What are...are those...butterflies? Dozens of butterflies in the living room?"
"Of course...they help with the pollination," Belle informed him blithely.
Rumple felt he was rapidly losing control of the situation. "Belle, I appreciate your love of fresh flowers, but isn't this a bit much?" He knew that pregnant women often got odd . . . urges and cravings, but this?
"Not really, sweetheart. It just makes for the perfect environment. Wait until you see the roses in the bedroom!" she cried excitedly.
"Roses? In the bedroom?"
"And tulips and daisies and a lovely wisteria on the balcony."
Rumple gaped at her. "You must be joking! It looks like a fairy house in here!" He gazed at his wife in alarm, suddenly noticing her pretty pastel robe of soft mint green with lacy long "winged" sleeves and sparkly slippers. Belle even had woven a crown of flowers in her hair. "And you look like . . . a nature goddess, dearie." Or a fairy . . . but he was so not going there!
"Do you like it?" Belle queried, twirling about a little.
"Um . . . yes, of course. You look very lovely . . . and spring like . . . even if it is fall," Gold said. He normally loved Belle in whatever she was wearing . . . or not wearing when they were alone . . . but certainly her sudden fetish with pastels and floral patterns was . . . disconcerting to say the least.
"Are we making dinner soon? All of a sudden, I'm starving!" Belle said, for lately her morning sickness was being replaced by odd cravings at any hour of the day. As well as a sudden desire to surround herself with flowers and butterflies. "What are you making again?"
"Uh . . . well, I thought we'd have some lasagna, Alice gave us that pan of it and we froze it, remember? So all I have to do is thaw it out and make some chicken marsala and salad and some garlic bread," Rumple began.
"That's good, but Rumple, I think I want some tacos too and how about some Spanish rice?" Belle suggested, licking her lips.
"You want . . . Mexican and Italian?"
"Uh huh. Why? Is there something wrong with that?"
"No . . . I just . . . okay . . ." he said, thanking God that he had all the ingredients for both kinds of dinners in his pantry. "Why don't you go sit down and uh . . . I'll bring you some tea and some of those little honey cakes you like?"
"Thanks, Rumple! And make sure the tea is rose petal, okay?" Belle told him, seating herself on the recliner and putting her feet up, inhaling the aroma of roses, jasmine, and giggling as Nala pounced at a butterfly fluttering along the wall.
"Sure, dearie," he muttered. "Rose petal tea, honey cakes . . . what's next? Candied violet blossoms?" he went into the kitchen to make the tea, thinking that this pregnancy brought out the oddest urges in his wife. He wondered if it was normal, and decided to ask Snow or Emma when he saw them tonight at dinner.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
"Papa, why are we making tacos and Spanish rice and lasagna and chicken marsala?" Alina asked as she helped him dip the chicken in an egg white and flour mixture after she had arrived home from Grace's house.
"Because that's what your mama wants tonight for supper, dearie," he replied, sautéing the mushrooms and onions in some light butter and olive oil. "You know how she gets now, Alina."
His daughter nodded. "Like the time she wanted pickles and watermelon? Or was it watermelon pickles?"
Gold shared a smile with her. "I'm not sure now. But it doesn't matter. Whatever she wants, I'll get her."
"Is that why there's roses and butterflies in the living room?" Alina asked as she carefully laid the breaded chicken in the pan with the butter.
"Yes, dearie. Your mama thinks they smell divine," he replied, stirring the mushrooms.
"Well, they do smell pretty," Alina admitted. She finished with the chicken and then cut a long loaf of Italian bread lengthwise and began spreading melted butter, minced garlic, and parmesan cheese on it. Then she put it on a baking sheet. "Okay, that's done. You want me to do the ground beef for the tacos now?"
"Yes, if you don't mind. The seasonings are in the taco kit," Rumple said. "It's a good thing Alice taught you how to cook, dearie."
"And you too," Alina reminded him, gesturing and summoning the package of ground beef from the fridge.
While she was making the seasoned ground beef, Rumple began mixing together the sauce for the chicken marsala. "Perhaps I should call Bae and ask him to make a salad and bring it," he mused, and reached in his pocket for his phone.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
"Rumple, here's your salad," Emma called as she entered Gold's Victorian about an hour later, carrying a large wooden bowl of salad.
"I made some balsamic vinegrette to go with it, Papa," Bae said, holding a plastic cruet in one hand.
Henry followed, holding a box of donuts, and paused when he saw all the greenery and flowers all over the living room, and his grandma napping among it. "Wow! Grandpa, what's this? It's like an indoor conservatory or something!"
"Is that a . . . butterfly?" Emma gasped, as a butterfly fluttered right in front her face.
"Yeah, looks like a blue swallowtail," Bae remarked. "Papa, you trying to imitate a fairy bower or something?"
"Of course not, Bae!" Gold said, coming into the foyer. "This is just . . . your mama wanted to . . . err . . . have some color and greenery in the house. So she . . . uh . . . put in some roses and jasmine and . . . well . . ."
"Henry! Look at our living room!" Alina exclaimed. "It's like Kensington Gardens or something."
"Cool! I brought donuts," he said, showing her the box. "Where should I put them?"
"In the kitchen. And then we can try and identify all the species of butterflies in here. I bought a book on my Nook," Alina said, waving around her tablet.
Henry sent the box of donuts into the kitchen using his magic, then joined his best friend in the living room and tried to catch some butterflies in his hand using the remains of the honey cake sitting beside Belle on the end table.
Emma and Bae continued on into the kitchen to put the salad and dressing on the counter, and ask if there was anything else Gold needed to be done before dinner was served.
Emma and Bae had finished setting the table in the dining room when the Charmings walked through the door a few moments later.
"What the—hey, Rumple you trying to showcase the prayer garden at the convent or something?" David called, gazing around Gold's living room.
"Wow! Those are lovely!" Snow cried. "Oh, is that a champagne tea rose! Look, Regina, at the beautiful butterfly!"
Regina, whose hands were full of the bag of Thanksgiving crafts, promptly dropped them on the floor and ran over to where Snow was standing next to the trellis of climbing roses and squealed, "Oooh, Mommy! Why's Unca Rumple have roses in his house?" She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. "What's that weird smell? It smells . . . like poop."
"Uh . . ." Snow groped about for something to say. "It's . . . fertilizer! So the roses grow big and strong."
"Oh. But why's it smell like that?"
"It's manure, dearie," Rumple said, coming up to them. He waved a hand and the smell was dispersed. "There! How's that?"
"Better," Regina said, and she hugged him. "Unca Rumple, why's your house got flowers in it like a fairy's?"
Rumple winced. "Because Auntie Belle likes flowers, Regina. A lot. And it's not a fairy house . . it's like . . . a garden," he said quickly.
"I think it's pretty. Like Pixie Hollow," Regina stated artlessly. Then she recalled the bag she had dropped and raced over to it. "Look, Unca Rumple! I made you a turkey!" She dug through the bag until she found the turkey she had made by tracing her hand on some brown cardboard and putting colored feathers on it for the tail and red construction paper for the head and gluing a shiny black button for its eye.
She ran and handed it to him proudly. "I made it myself."
"For me?" Rumple knelt and took the paper turkey from her. "It's lovely, dearie. You did a great job!"
"Mommy helped a little," Regina said, then she pointed to where she had written her name on the back. "See? She helped me write from Regina on it."
"We'll put this right on the refrigerator so everyone can see it," Rumple said.
Regina clapped her hands. "Here, Auntie Belle! I made you a Indian corn!" she found the paper craft of Indian corn made from construction paper, and real corn stalks and went over to give it to Belle, who had woken up when she heard Regina's voice.
Belle sat up, and took the Indian corn from the little girl. "Oh, Regina! How beautiful! I'm going to put this on the wall in the foyer. It'll look perfect there, and just in time for Thanksgiving." She hugged and kissed her niece, then slowly levered herself off the recliner to say hello to the rest of her family.
Regina went to give a turkey to Bae and a pumpkin to Emma that she had made, and she gave Henry and Alina turkeys too.
"Thanks, Regina!" Henry said, and smothered a giggle. Turning to Alina, he whispered, "I remember making one of these in school when I was little and giving it to her . . . and now she's giving me one."
"I think it's sweet," Alina smiled at her cousin. "I'm going to put this on the wall next to Mama's corn."
"I'll hang mine on our fridge," Henry said. "I'll like looking at it and thinking about Thanksgiving dinner."
"Me too. Alice is making green bean casserole and Mama and I are making chestnut stuffing with cranberries and candied yams," Alina said.
"My mom's making crescent rolls and Dad's doing his special cranberry relish," Henry said.
"Grace said she's making pumpkin pie and raviolis. And Papa's doing the mashed potatoes."
"I'm helping Daddy make gravy and . . . broccoli with cheese," said Regina. "And Mommy's making apple pie."
"Papa and I are doing chocolate pecan pretzel pie," Alina told them.
"Who's making the turkey?" Henry wondered.
"Uh . . . I think Snow and David are," Alina said.
Regina shook her head rapidly making her dark curls bounce. "No! We ain't havin' no turkey for Thanksgiving!"
"Huh? Why not? You're supposed to have turkey on Thanksgiving," Henry exclaimed.
"Nuh uh. Not unless you wanna murder the turkey!" Regina said, and she started to cry. "Turkeys are our friends, Henry!"
"Yeah, but . . . err . . ." he looked helplessly at Alina.
"Hey, where'd you hear that, Regina?" Alina asked.
"Daddy and Mommy and I went to watch Free Birds today," Regina told her.
"That's that new cartoon movie about Thanksgiving, right?" Henry asked.
"Uh huh. An' this turkey named Reggie was pardoned by the president . . . so's they wouldn't eat him on Thanksgiving . . . an' it's wrong to eat turkey, Henry. Turkeys are living things, an' they gots a right to live too!" the toddler said seriously. "Would you wanna get eaten for dinner?"
"No!" her nephew said, snickering. "But Regina, we always eat turkey for Thanksgiving."
She glared at him stubbornly. "So? Then maybe we oughta eat something else."
"Like what?"
"Pizza!" she cried.
"Pizza?" echoed Alina.
"Uh huh. Cause I ain't having Thanksgiving if we have turkey!" Regina stated. "I don't want no turkeys to die!" she started sniffling again.
Alina exchanged glances with Henry. "Umm . . . you know . . . I don't want turkeys to die either . . . and you know what just opened up over on Mifflin Street . . . where the mayor's old house used to be."
"Yeah, I know. Mr. Fox's fowl farm," Henry said. "He's having a special on turkeys for Thanksgiving."
"No! No turkeys!" Regina howled, stamping a foot on the floor. "It's 'sgusting!"
"What's disgusting, dearie?" Rumple asked.
"Killing turkeys for Thanksgiving!" Regina cried. "It's mean and nasty! An' we ain't doin' it!"
Rumple raised an eyebrow. "We going vegan or something this holiday?"
"It's because she saw that movie Free Birds," David said, sighing. "I thought it would be cute for us to see something together, so Snow and I went to the matinee . . ." he led Rumple away towards the dining room.
"I hope not," Bae said to Emma. "I love it when the turkey's all crispy and hot and juicy right out of the oven. And after we can all watch football on TV and root for the Cardinals."
"It's the Patriots here. We're not in Phoenix," Emma reminded him.
"I'm still a Cardinals fan," Bae argued. "And I like my turkey with stuffing and gravy."
"No!" Regina sobbed, getting even more upset. "Alina, Henry, we gotta save the turkeys!"
"How can we do that?" Henry asked.
Alina shrugged. "I don't know."
"I'll tell you how!" Regina cried, and was about to pull them aside when Rumple called, "Time to eat, children!"
"Come on, Regina," Henry said, taking her hand. "You can tell us how to save the turkeys after dinner."
"Okay. But we is not havin' turkey on Thanksgiving," the little imp insisted, following her nephew into the dining room.
As Belle started into the dining room, waddling as she often did nowadays, Snow caught her arm. "Belle . . . have you told him yet?"
Belle turned, blushing, and looked guilty, before whispering, "No. Not yet. I . . . I've been trying to . . . come up with a way to . . . explain it to him . . ."
"Belle, you have to tell him eventually," Snow hissed. "If he finds out before you do . . . it'll hurt him that you didn't say something . . . it'll look like you were keeping secrets from him."
"I know . . . and I will . . . it's just difficult . . ." Belle sighed. She really didn't know how she was going to explain what had happened to Rumple, and yet she also knew Snow was right. Her husband did need to know . . . and sooner rather than later. Biting her lip, she said, "Let's not discuss this right now, okay? I'm starving, so let's eat!"
Snow nodded. "It smells delicious in there. David and I brought brownies, because they're Regina's favorite. What's for dinner?"
"Rumple and Alina made chicken marsala, garlic bread, tacos, Spanish rice, and Alice made lasagna. Emma made a salad with homemade dressing and Henry brought donuts," Belle recited. The smells coming from the dining room were mouthwatering and her stomach was grumbling noisily.
"Hmm, that's interesting. Italian and Mexican," Snow said, and then she joined the rest of the family at the table, where David was pouring iced tea for everyone.
"Everything okay, dearie?" Rumple asked Belle, helping her sit down next to him.
"Everything's fine, Rumple!" Belle said cheerily. "Now let's eat."
A/N: So . . . who knows what's up with Belle and what she needs to tell Rumple? Thanks to cynicsquest for help with Belle's cravings and the new house decorations.