Title: Secrets in Whispers
Summary: There was a reason Red Riding Hood knew about the cure she had told Snow White of.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: 1x10
Pairing/Characters: Red Riding Hood/Rumpelstiltskin, Snow White, mentions others
Word Count: 1555
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time is not owned by me, but by ABC. I'm simply borrowing these characters for non-profit entertainment.
"Red, what do you know?" Snow White asked the younger woman. In that moment she had all but accused her good friend of knowing more than she was saying as she had merely implied there may have been a way for her to gain that which she desired. With her desperation to get thoughts of Prince James out of her mind increasing as his wedding day to King Midas' daughter quickly neared, she expected Red would understand her impatience.
In truth Snow hadn't been wrong in her accusation. Still, Red only said, "There are whispers about a man," before elaborating only slightly about the tales of his magic. There had been whispers about that man in the forest for as long as Red could remember. Her parents and grandmother had warned her endlessly about him. They had called him dangerous and worse, and spoke of how she should never enter into any deal with him no matter the promises he made. They assured her no riches would be worth the price he would force her to pay.
Alas, those words and whispers had seemed to prove all too true. For Red knew Rumpelstiltskin was the only man she had been told of who could concoct a cure to help one end the suffering of their broken heart.
But what Red had failed to go on to tell her friend was exactly how she knew of this cure. She had admitted to having heard those whispers of Rumpelstiltskin and of what others had claimed he could do, of course. But she had known not to speak beyond that.
As she left Snow White with what she had shared and headed back on her way, Red still remembered the truth of how she knew of that cure, and of the man, all too well. In her mind, as she walked, she recalled how she had seen him one day in the forest while once again on her way to her grandmother's house.
Initially the sight of him had startled her. It had even frightened her as her family had intended. His golden skin, which had been unlike anything she had seen before. His wild brown eyes, which had seemed fixated upon her for those brief moments. His unkempt hair, which made her wonder if he slept in the woods as well. His angular face and gaunt frame, which proved to her all too well he was no mere mortal man, but something more. Even his high-pitched laugh which she could still sometimes hear echoing in the forest, particularly at night.
The whispers and rumors swirled about even still and never quite seemed to stop. Even the tales of her friends making their deals with him swirled. Her grandmother was even guilty. It was how they had escaped the wolf those years ago. So many she knew called him evil no matter what he had done for them, just as many seemed wished to go back on the deals they had made with him as well.
Then finally the Imp had begun to fill her dreams. In some she would only hear his laugh, but it was always so clear. She would follow it until they were so deep in the forest no one else could hope to find them. In others she would see him so close to her that she could see just how his golden skin would shimmer in the moonlight, mesmerizing her. Then there were dreams where she would find herself touching him, feeling the material of his clothes beneath her hands. But the dreams she would deny in the morning light were those where she found herself able to smell his skin upon her own, and those where she could describe in graphic detail how he tasted. The sourness of his mouth as it would claim hers, the salty-sweetness of his body as she trailed her tongue and lips over him. Every night had become a new temptation.
When she still couldn't shake the images even after a matter of weeks, she knew she needed a cure of her own. The fairies couldn't help her and she feared the witches. That only left him.
"What brings you into these woods on this fair night, Little Red?" he asked, his hands together as he awaited her reply. It could only be a deal that would bring her to him, but as she had yet to make a deal with him thus far, he could only imagine what she would request of him.
"There's someone I need to forget," she blurted out. Seeing him brought back all of those various images from her dreams and she could only hope he didn't have the ability to see into her mind. This was all the more reason she needed that cure, she decided.
"You realize you still have to go home to that granny of yours. Forgetting one's guardians' overbearing ways will not help ease those burdens," he replied as he turned his back to her.
"It's not my granny. They say you can help those who have things to trade. I'm not sure what of mine you would find of value, but I need this cure. I need it before these thoughts grow even worse."
Red was terrified of just how much worse it could get. Her dreams becoming fantasies was already in immediate danger of happening. She was sure wishing for ways to act upon those fantasies would be next. She knew she had to end this now.
"Tell me, dearie, did this person break your heart?" It would alter his potion for her slightly if that was the case. But he was also curious. He always did have a certain weakness for young and beautiful women, particularly this famed huntress.
"Not yet. But there's no way for us to be together. I can't let myself go on with thoughts or dreams of the opposite being true."
"So you no longer wish to see your heart's hidden desires?" he asked as he spun back to face her once more.
"They can't be my heart's desires. I can't desire this person. And if it's true that I do, I have to stop. Please, there must be something you would consider as payment enough."
Rumpelstiltskin thought for a moment. He looked the girl over, eying her large wooden basket. No, he decided. But with his curiosity piqued with how she spoke of this person she wished not to desire, he had an idea. With a puff of smoke he held a vial in one hand and smiled.
"Is that it?" Red asked, her hazel eyes gleaming with hope.
"Indeed it is, dearie. But in order for me to grant you this cure, I require a trade."
"Anything," she breathed as her eyes returned to his.
He grinned. "Give me the name of the person you wish to forget."
She paled. Of course he would want a name, she had often heard of his fondness for names. But she recovered and lied. "His name is Thomas." Simple enough, she decided. If he had met her friends then he could understand why she would feel this was wrong.
He moved closer to her then, following again when she took a step back. His hand with the vial was at his side and he leaned in even further to tell her, "You will get nothing if you lie to me, Little Red. Tell me his real name or I suppose we shall all find out the truth when your desire grows too great for you to continue to deny it."
She whispered, "Rumpelstiltskin."
"Yes, my pet?" he asked as he let a bony finger trail down her cheek.
Though she did not turn at his touch, she did force herself to ignore the shiver that ran through her at it and said, "His name… is Rumpelstiltskin."
"Well why didn't you say so!" He stepped back and offered her the vial with almost a bow. "Though, it would be such a shame for you to drink that now. Just imagine all the things we could do! Or, I suppose you already have," he giggled. "But, if you are sure you wouldn't rather put flesh to your fantasies, than I shall give you what you wish."
Red looked to the vial, then back to his face. There was still a smile at his lips, as if he was sure which option she would pick.
She knew then she had already come to him too late. Because his expression more than implied that he knew what she would choose. And he wasn't wrong.
Now, several months later, she continued to come to him. He had offered her the cure for that which had ailed her, but she had let it clatter to the forest's floor. She had lost the fight within herself, and she had chosen him over her cure.
There would be whispers of this too, she was sure. Whispers of the red-cloaked girl who by nightfall would sneak off to the golden Imp's cottage would spread quickly. Though she did not quite fear it, for they would simply be whispers. No one could claim she had told even her dear friend Snow everything she knew of the Imp or of his cures that very day. Surely she could keep just a few more secrets between Rumpelstiltskin and herself.
The End