It had been a shame that this new author had fallen to the temptation of the pen. The power it held swayed many, but never had it before completely consumed a writer.
The Apprentice sighed and settled further into his rocking chair, letting out a long-drawn sigh before he sipped the hot drink in his hands. Storybrooke should never know of the author, those were the rules, after all. He supposed a new one would be chosen eventually, it was only a matter of time.
The previous author had been much better at his job. Granted a few times he had almost altered the stories, and on other occasions attempted to simplify them, but he had never changed the course of the story in the same way Isaac had. Still, Walt had been perfect once he realised the gravity of the situation and realised he could change the story to his heart's content in his films.
It had been a shame that he'd passed. The new one was more of a disappointment.
Perhaps the difference lay in the outcome of each author's life. While the previous had gone on to make a name for himself in the work of this world's 'animations', the mantle had then been passed to a man who had been handed little success in life.
It was one of the reasons he'd been chosen.
The role of the author required him to be humble in order for him to not take the job for a power gain, and the Sorcerer had been under the impression that the unfortunate circumstances that had befallen the new author would have naturally provided him with this characteristic. Unfortunately, the man had given into temptation.
It could have been worse, the Apprentice thought gazing out into the town the characters had come to call home. He could have changed everything completely, not just the actions of Snow White and Prince Charming.
Yes, it could have been much worse, and they were lucky to trap him before anything more extreme took place.
However… There must always be an author. He knew the sorcerer had been considering candidates, one of which was the Saviour's boy. A good choice.
He couldn't help but feel that it wasn't enough. He hadn't voiced his thoughts to the Sorcerer, but he had lost his faith in the role of the author. Why did there need to be someone to record? Why must there always be someone with that much power?
Still, it was not his place to argue, and he trusted in the Sorcerer.
To his credit, the new one had been good at his job for a while; he'd travelled the realms and documented the goings on of each story.
But then he'd met Cruella De Vil.
The Apprentice rose from his chair and headed to the small kitchen, placed his empty mug in the sink and leaned against the counter.
That woman had broken him, but most importantly had shown him that he could accomplish something he'd only speculated about before; He could bend the worlds around him to his whim.
He supposed that, while love could accomplish great things, it could also lead to terrible atrocities, like the banishment of Maleficent's child, for example. Hopefully the new author wouldn't make the same mistake.
No. This one will be different.
A knock sounded at the front door and the Apprentice eased himself away from the counter wearily. The Sorcerer warned him that Captain Hook would be paying him a visit, so he wasn't surprised at all to see him standing there, wrapped in leather and shivering slightly from the morning breeze.
What he was surprised to see was Rumpelstiltskin standing before him too, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a small smirk that instantly alerted to trouble.
"Captain," he began, turning his cold eyes on Hook, "Please see our host to a seat."