Chapter 2
The day had passed painfully slow for Emma after the stranger had left. She spent the remainder of the day searching the market place and hoping to catch a glimpse of the tidy black hair and sparkling blue eyes. But the man never returned. As the stalls began to close with the setting of the sun, Emma packed away her own wares and walked through the emptying streets to Rumples dwelling. When she rounded the last corner and made her way past an old shoe repair shop, Emma stopped short of Rumples front door.
Upon the handle hung a wooden cane; a gesture known throughout the Rookery that important business was taking and place and no one was to disturb. Ordinarily Emma would not concern herself with Rumples business, only today she recognized who the cane belonged to.
Rolfe.
As if the thought of his very name summoned him like some sort of Demon, the front door slammed open and the man himself emerged in all his sweaty glory. He fixed his hat upon his head and then a wicked smile pulled at his lips as he beheld Emma.
"Ah, here she is." He purred. "I was just telling Rumplestilskin the story of our encounter earlier in the market."
"You mean how you were knocked flat on your back with a single blow in front of the whole Rookery?" She lifted her chin defiantly.
"Well," He growled as he pulled his cane from the door handle and gave it a twirl. "I may have changed and exaggerated some details."
"I do hope you told him you cried like a newly born babe." Her voice shook as she tried to hide the dread that rolled through her. She could only imagine the lies Rolfe told Rumple to further his agenda.
Rolfe sneered and took a step until he was standing in front of Emma, mere centimeters separating their faces. "I hope you make it through the night girl, I do love our encounters."
He tipped his hat mockingly, and then strode off into the night whistling a tune she recognized as the death march prisoners sang as they walked to the gallows.
Nausea gripped her stomach. Rumple still was not aware of her presence out side the dwelling. Perhaps she could make a run for it; find passage to the southern isles where the Ogre War was being fought. Maybe, just maybe, Rumple would not follow her there. For all the power and influence the man held, Emma knew one thing; Rumple was a coward.
"Swan!"
Emma went still, praying she was hearing things and that she still had time to escape.
"I see you standing out there in the ruddy street. I'll add another ten lashings if you're not inside by the time I get the whip."
Emma had heard the threat before. What were another ten lashings to her when she had already lost count of the scars already on her back? Regardless, Emma rushed through the door and placed her basket on the table just as Rumple entered to room with a whip in hand.
"Ten lashings for your insolence." He hissed.
As if she was on autopilot, Emma knelt in front of him; her shoulders slumped in defeat, and pulled at the tie at the back of her neck until her dress open to reveal her back.
"Count each strike girl and remember this moment the next time you go to open your mouth."
Rumple raised the whip as Emma braced herself, and then he bought it down upon her back.
... ... ...
"Are you listening child?"
Emma shook her head as if to shake away her thoughts and looked to the older woman who sat across from her. Granny, as she was known through out the Rookery, sat atop a makeshift chair of wooden crates and flour sacks; a crossbow at one side of her, and a basket of wool the other. Though she held no position within the leaders of the Rookery, the common folk looked to Granny as a figurehead of Poorside. Everyday she sat with her crossbow to her left and knitted as she oversaw the day-to-day business of the Market.
That morning, Emma had left the house early and snagged a position close to Granny, just in case Rolfe decided to make an appearance. No doubt the pig of a man would stroll by just to gloat at Emma.
"I asked you what happened yesterday in the Market. The whole Rookery is buzzing with talk that you struck Rolfe."
Emma snorted. Rumors did tend to loose some truth when it spread through so many people.
"I did not lay a hand on that tub of pig guts," Emma assured the older woman. "Although he did strike me. And he would have again, had it not been for some 'mysterious stranger'"
"Mysterious Stranger?" Granny laughed as she picked another ball of yarn from her basket; a deep green this time. It would clash with the already present blue and brown and Emma wondered if Granny was colour blind.
"You listen to too many stories of Romance girl."
Emma sighed and set to work setting up her stall. "You mistake my tone Granny. I call him a mysterious stranger because he did not give his name, nor did his appearance match that of the Rookery."
"A traded from another land?"
Emma shook her head "He said he has lived here since he was a child."
"A scoundrel then, top of the Palace Guards wanted list?"
But Emma did not answer. She was not sure who he was, and she did not care to find out. The stinging pain on her back reminded her of all the trouble that he was.
"I just want to forget the whole incident and hope that Rofle doesn't show his face in the market for a while."
"I'll pray to the Gods for you." Granny chuckled to herself as she continued to knit her blanket.
Emma looked at Granny and then to the blanket and screwed up her nose. "Those colours are awful." Emma said.
With a slight curve to her lip Granny replied. "One of these days child, someone will cut out your younger for speaking your mind."
Emma laughed dismissively but inside she agreed with Granny. She was far more trouble than she was worth and always wondered why Rumple kept her bound to him. Her constant backchat and disobedience sent him into a rage frequently. But no matter how many times he whipped and beat her, she continued on, as if there was a fire inside her that she could not douse.
In the distance the castle bell tower chimed Seven and the surrounding stalls sprang to life. With trading delayed due to the rain, vendors were eager to make up for lost money. Emma glanced at Granny, who was lost in her stitch work and let out a heavy sigh.
"The Lady is tired already." A familiar voice spoke from behind her. "But the day has only just begun."
Emma took a breath to calm herself, and prayed to the Gods that it was not the stranger from yesterday. But as she turned, she was met with the familiar sapphire blue eyes and cocky smile.
Emma couldn't help but groan and she wondered if he continued to call her 'Lady' just to mock her slave status.
"I do tend to have that effect on women."
"Revulsion?" She quipped.
"You wound me." He gasped as his hand gripped his chest playfully.
Emma laughed. She could not help it. His dazzling smile and playful tone sent shivers of excitement down her spine.
"I have never heard such a sweet sound." His velvet smooth voice was a pleasure to listen to, compared to Rumples clipped tone and Rookery accent. But she could not ignore his Highborn accent or the new clothes he wore. The man was hiding something and she had to remember that.
"Why are you here?" She asked finally.
"I wanted to see if you were alright. You implied that you would be punished for my actions yesterday.'
Emma stilled. She was not used to this amount of concern. It was unsettling.
"As you can see I'm in one piece."
The man nodded but looked her up and down nonetheless.
Emma crossed her arms. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" She said impatiently.
The man was silent for a moment, his eyes lost in thought before he replied, "It occurred to me that I have missed my brothers birthday, and I require a gift as atonement."
"I carry only small trinkets, and nothing fine enough for a you." She said.
His eyes flicked up to hers in an instant and she knew she had guessed correctly that he was Highborn.
The corner of his mouth pulled up slightly. "Nothing for a scoundrel like me?" He asked innocently.
Emma rolled her eyes. "What sort of activities does he enjoy, so I may find a trinket to match."
"Sailing."
"Is that all?"
He nodded.
Emma sighed and looked over her table, until a thought entered her mind.
"I have been working on something." She mumbled, more to herself than to the stranger. "But I have yet to finish it."
Emma reached to grab the basket that sat beneath the table, but a cry of pain left her mouth and she quickly straightened herself. She had forgotten the ten lashes she had received the night before and she quietly cursed herself. She was usually so careful to move in a way that did not disturb the skin on her back, but she was been so caught up with the stranger that she had completely forgotten.
"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice thick with concern.
Emma nodded quickly, trying to take deep breaths as she waited for the pain to ease, and as it began to ebb and then fade, she noticed that the stranger had moved beside her.
"You are injured." His hand reached out to touch her, comfort her, but he quickly pulled it back when he saw her flinch away. "What can I do to help?"
She stepped away from him and placed her hands on her hips. "You have done enough."
His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "You say that as if I have caused you injury?"
Anger had flared in Emma then and burned ferociously in her chest, sending a wave of heat into her cheeks.
"You stuck your nose were it did not belong yesterday." She ground out through her teeth.
"I was trying to help you."
"I was not some damsel in distress who needed saving! I had everything under control."
"He was about to strike you again." He protested, trying to make her understand.
"And you should have let him!" She yelled. "You have no idea how things work in the Rookery."
The stranger stepped back like a wounded dog. "It's not in my nature. I apologize for doing what I though was right."
"That's just it. Your good nature has only gotten me in more trouble."
He cocked his head in confusion.
"Ten lashings for my insolence." She said in a voice mocking Rumple and then she collapsed onto the stool, exhaustion suddenly taking hold of her.
A look a horror flashed across his face only to be replaced but a deep seething regret and he opened his mouth to say something, but Emma waved her hand at him and he fell silent.
"Just leave, before more word reaches my master and I am punished again."
The stranger regarded her for a moment, his face now unreadable, and he slowly walked forward and placed three gold coins in front of her.
"For the Swan trinket." And then he was gone before she could throw the money back in his face in disgust. Emma knew she was directing her anger at the wrong person. She should never have engaged Rolfe in the first place. She should have keep her treacherous mouth shut. It was all her fault.
"I take it that was the mysterious stranger." Granny said, her knitting now forgotten.
Emma had forgotten Granny was there, and felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment that the older woman had heard the whole exchange.
"He is very handsome." Granny mused.
Emma ignored her.
For all the trouble he had caused, Emma still sent a silent prayer to the Gods that she would see the stranger again. He had awoken something inside Emma, something she had never felt before, and she clutched down on it, willing the feeling to never fade.
