Author's Notes: Thanks to the new faves/follows (and the previous ones too, of course). I have kind of been wondering if the length of chapters are a bit much, being too time consuming to read in one sitting. If you have a preference between party-sized or king-sized chapter lengths, drop me a line.

Dracomom – Ah, well, I hadn't intended to imply that the words that rhyme with Alys are clues, but a fine guess, anyway. Wonderland will come in to play, down the line, but hopefully how we get there with unexpected. You're spot on when it comes to my viewpoint of Cora. The question of how that plays into the fact that she's clearly not living in the palace by the time the genie arrives, and the reason for the 'good' King Leopold keeping her in a loveless and childless marriage is a subject I really want to tackle, as I have yet to be seen explored in any fanfic. Glad you're enjoying the downfall of Cora. :)

Evil. Regal – Lot's of Rumps/Gold in the next two chapters, so here's hoping you'll continue to enjoy how I'm handling him. Figuring out how to express the differences between Gold and Rumps in text has proving a fun challenge, that I've hopefully pulled off.

Chapter 11: Played Like a Fiddle

"Little did I know that Cora would be the first to find a way to have her cake and eat it too," Mr. Gold remarked.

"Has she ever had it any other way?" asked Regina bitterly. "Fish swim, horses gallop, and Cora always gets what she wants."

"She didn't have her mother. Nor the daughter she wished for," Gold replied. He was tickled when he saw that the gibe had struck a nerve in the former Evil Queen. This one was so easy to read, and play against, he felt more like a cat toying with a mouse than the battle between two lion's prides it had before. He knew the ease would be satisfying at first, but like any sweet dessert, not something he'd want for every meal.

Emma recognized the momentary micro-expression on Regina's face. The flicker of a hidden wound she was ashamed to be pained by in her eyes. It was one she had mastered in the foster system, never wanting to admit she still let herself believe that the next family she was placed with would be the one that loved her as their own - the way Regina had been with Henry; fiercely protective, to a fault even, protecting her from the bullies and kissing her skinned knees. She'd eventually realized that she would have to be her own protector, and that was when the rules began to chafe her. Clearly they were only there to benefit them, to make her as little a bother as possible while they collected the checks. 'You didn't eat all your vegetables? No new set of crayons.' 'You lost your homework? Looks like you're going to have to wait for Jurassic Park on VHS.' Once she had noticed that every rescinded privilege was followed by her caregiver just happening to treat themselves the next day, the sadness had turned to anger. Eventually, even long passed becoming independent, she saw a friend or lover who wanted to lay down ground rules as trying doing it for themselves.

Or, at least, that's how it was until she met Mary Margaret, anyway. The woman had been so damned guileless, trusting, and selfless that it was impossible for Emma to fool herself into believing her friend was using her when they got too close for comfort. It was clear to Emma that part of Regina still wanted her mother's love. That the woman's mother could still use that desire to make Regina work for it; make her believe that if she just tried a little harder, she could prove herself worthy of her mother's love. She wondered if that had still been the case with the Madame Mayor, and it was just buried behind the woman's fortress of walls around her heart. The thought made her pity that woman, for just a moment. Emma could have kicked herself for being such a softy at heart, if she wasn't certain that knowing Emma pitied her would irk the mayor to no end. This younger Regina was probably the same when it came to pity, but Emma didn't think she could take any pleasure in goading her. In fact, Gold's little dig at Cora's disappointment in Regina had riled her protective instincts more than she'd thought possible. "Hey!" Emma barked at Gold. "Like I said before, if you're just going to dick around with your little games, we leave. But I know you need something from us. So get your ass in gear."

Behind Emma, David nudged Snow, and the pride in his daughter - a woman who could still be fair and stand up for what's right, no matter the person's past, or her own wounds - made his eyes positively sparkle. Not exactly the mouth he would have chosen for his princess, but he knew all too well that sometimes the only weapon you have is words - the sharper, the better. Snow gave his arm a squeeze and shot him a knowing grin back, feeling very much the same. It was a strange place for such a moment, but they knew the looks on their faces would have Emma burying her head in the sand if she saw them, so they indulged themselves for just a second.

Regina shot Emma an appreciative, though sad, look. It was certainly the warmest look she'd ever gotten from the woman. 'Nope. Definitely no fun to be had needling this Regina.'

"I'm merely pointing out that it would seem that the only people that can take away something from a woman of the Mills line, is another Mills woman. And that includes more recent events..."

'Are you implying she gave me my son back or that she quit the battle and wiped her own mind clean?' Emma thought as she ground her teeth together, fighting the urge to ask too obvious a question in front of Regina. She should have known Gold would actually have fun with the veiled truths and wordplay it took to discuss practically anything in front of the amnesiac.

"The latest development?" Snow asked and Emma hoped the woman was using her positioning behind Regina to indicate which dilemma. "Or the thing before that?"

She must have, because Gold seemed to follow. "Why must it be either-or with you people?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Emma.

He shrugged. "Could be nothing, could be everything. I'll be sure to inform our fine law enforcement team here should I decide it's relevant." He turned to Regina. "Now, as I was getting to, before I was so rudely interrupted... your happiness wasn't the first thing she stole," he told Regina."Though it did comes at the greatest price. But I'm getting ahead of myself."

~Two Years into Henry and Cora's Marriage ~

Cora was in her seventh month of pregnancy when the man she hoped had forgotten their bargain appeared in her bedroom. Her hairbrush tumbled from her fingers as the imp appeared behind her in the reflection of her looking glass. He wiggled his spindly fingers at her as if in greeting and the whole room felt strangely muffled, like it was wrapped in a giant pillow. "Guards!" she shouted frantically as she spun around to confront him.

But she was alone.

"Don't be getting yourself too worked up now, dearie. It's a dangerous time for that little bun in your oven." She spun around again, nearly leaping out of her skin she was so startled. He was perched on the tabletop of her vanity, a weird grin splitting his face.

"Guards!" she practically shrieked. Although it was less than a year she'd had them at her absolute beckon call, with no higher ranking person overseeing them, she'd grown to rely on them and the servants of her home. 'Where are they?!' she screamed mentally. While she'd expected to feel a bit suffocated by their constant presence, the mere fact that she could send them away at one word had alleviated the feeling. She'd found herself depending on their company, their adulation, more than she realized. In the day to day of most of her life it had always been her and her father. It was a strange thing to be dependent on people you had ultimate control over - even if she wouldn't admit those feelings even to herself. It was what she imagined parenthood to be like. Except a child was a little version of you to mold and lift to even greater heights.

Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head, regarding her. "Never could listen to reason, could you? I've cast a cloaking spell on this room. No one will be hearing a peep, I assure you." He hopped off the vanity, then ran his finger over the top of the oval mirror's oaken frame as he stalked along, the beginning of his first lap, circling like a shark. He examined the tips of his fingers for dust. "Tsk, Tsk. You know, it's true what they say, isn't it? Good help is hard to find. I can procure an excellent slav- uh servant if you like," he said.

"At what cost?"

He raised his eye brows, but almost looked pleased. "Now you're catching on, sweetie. Tell you what - hows about a lil freebie?" Before she could answer he'd pointed at the mirror and it shimmered for a few seconds. "Water and dust need not plague your furniture ever again! Well, just that once piece there. But I don't do windows, so don't ask!"

Cora stood there in her dressing gown, back against a wall, wielding the sharpest thing in reach - a knitting needle. "Enough! What do you want?!" she asked hotly. 'Never let them see your fear,' her father's voice intoned in her head, quickly followed by a flash from her tutor's book of rules that taught new aristocrats etiquette and navigation of the games of political diplomacy. Lesson 42: The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife. They'd both been speaking of wolves, of the animal and political sort respectively, but both seemed to apply to this creature.

"Why, just the payment I'm due, dearie," he replied cheerily. "Now don't play dumb with me. I know what you've been up to. Taken quite a shine to the lap of luxury... and the power? What would you give to keep it?"

She could guess, by his timing, that he was here for her first born. She'd heard the rumors about the Dark One. Some seemed more plausible than others. Like when he'd led the children off the battlefield during the first Ogre War, only to kill their parents in front of them, boiled them in their own tears, and gobble them up. That seemed... unlikely. But there was a curious pattern to his dealings. Much centered on children. Once she'd fallen pregnant, she knew what she had to do. She couldn't ask too many people, or too directly, about what they knew of the Dark One when merely a lady of the duchy. It could bring suspicion about her and where she'd gotten her magic spinning wheel. But if she were the duchess, she could use as many resources as she had gold; buy and swear servants of the realm to secrecy upon penalty of death. Once the Duke was out of the way she acted quickly, sending knights to find what they could - under the guise of surveying the people to find out how to better serve their needs. Henry had thought it a fine idea, and she reflected for not the first time, that growing up a royal must soften the head - they had no appreciation for the real value of wealth. It wasn't luxury, or relaxation; it was power over your own destiny.

So yes, he likely wanted her child. But she wasn't about to bring it up first. She hardened her eyes, putting on a face far braver than what she felt inside. 'Fearless. Fearless,' she chanted to herself. "And what would you have from me? Surely you needn't riches."

"Not of the gold and jewels variety, no. I'm a fan of the riches only a family can bring."

Cora furrowed her brow. Could she talk him out of this? It had been part of their deal. "The Dark One can't love," she declared.

Rumpelstiltskin feigned hurt. "You wound me madame! Even monsters bleed..." He dragged the long fingernail of his left pinky across his cheek, splitting the flesh and letting it ooze out in an unearthly slow fashion. "See?!" he giggled as if he'd just shown her a delightful party trick. He covered the wound with his hand and after a purplish glow flared up he let his hand drop, wound gone. "And so, you see, love isn't beyond my reach, either." His face turned deadly serious. "Perhaps you shouldn't rely on gossip and fish tales for all your information. You never know who that old beggar could really be," he growled menacingly, slowly stalking toward her frozen form. Just as she could feel the hot stink of his breath on her face he suddenly bounced upright, back into nonchalance. "Though I hear it's a delicacy among the more fetid of my brethren, I would never eat a child..." He wrinkled his nose. "Too stringy!" he remarked with a bone-chilling unearthly chuckle at his jest. "So, I'll just be taking your daughter, there. When the time comes."

Never had she been so conflicted as having the elation at finding out her child's sex strangled out by the threat of her being stolen. She was having a little girl! And she would lose her, if she wasn't clever enough.

A predatory grin oozed across Rumpelstiltskin's face. He knew what he'd done. Stolen one of the most precious of moments for any first time parent - and tainted it. It was the first warning fire across her bow, reminding her that he wasn't to be trifled with.

"Our agreement was clear. I can choose you take something else."

"And I can choose to refuse it. So choose wisely."

"What conditions must this offering meet?" she asked.

"Now where's the fun in telling? I find keeping the rules to myself much more helpful in winning."

Cora set her jaw and swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady even as she clutched protectively at her belly. "The contract states my choice should meet your needs, so-"

Rumpelstiltskin threw up a hand. "Alright! Alright! There's always more than one path to any goal. I suppose the important thing is that your family be formed of loss. Just like you lost your mother, someone in your darling little household is losing a parent."

"What could you possibly stand to gain by destroying my family?!" she replied in horror. She understood playing games to move yourself above and beyond, but how did anything with a soul seek to destroy other's happiness just for their own amusement? Of course, perhaps that's what made the Dark One, dark. Maybe it was simply someone whose soul had been destroyed by dark magic and not a husk being possessed by some demonic beast.

"Destiny is made by what we choose to do when life is unfair. Few people have to make the truly tough choices, you know. They get to live their dreary little lives, telling themselves whatever little lies about themselves they wish, never truly having those beliefs tested. I'm simply interested in making sure your family isn't one of the lucky ones. Tragedy has a way of forcing people into those choices."

"Losing my mother, our farm? Those weren't awful enough?" she replied in disbelief. "How much more must I suffer?"

"It's not all about you dearie, hard as that is for you to fathom, I'm certain. You've already made your choice. That's why we're having this discussion remember? Besides, its not about suffering - it's about making sure your family sits on high; a whole kingdom under your command! Don't you want a throne for your precious daughter?"

Cora narrowed her eyes at him, her posture relaxing ever so slightly in her ponderances. "Why would you care if my family should sit on the throne?" She had to admit the idea intrigued her. And she hoped her baby to be propelled even higher than herself.

"Let's just say, I'm a fan of families getting what they deserve," he replied with a wink. "You want to get what you deserve, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"So don't look a gift horse in the mouth!" he snapped back. "They can bite, you know." He offered Cora sarcastically courtly bow. "Well. As lovely as this has been, may I suggest you speak with your two doting men? Talk it over. I'll be back tomorrow night, when the clock chimes eight. And a word of advice? Never let family stand in the way of a good opportunity. Or was it don't let opportunity stand in the way of a good family? Ah, well, I suppose I'll leave you to figure that out."

Cora glanced down at her rounded belly as she felt a kick. Her first kick. As if her little girl was ready to take the imp on herself, if she could just find a way out. She'd only looked down for a second, but when she looked back up the imp was gone and the air felt lighter. She realized she could hear the crickets in the field again, and the rustle of a servant's skirts as she passed in the hallway. Another kick and Cora beamed down at her belly again, rubbing it. "You're going to be brave and strong and a fighter, aren't you? A queen, should you wish." Her face fell as she heard the clock chime eight times. "If I can figure this out. But your family loves you, even enough to take on the Dark One, himself. And win."

The candle on her desk had melted away almost to the nub when her husband finally joined her in her bedroom, just returned from a moonlight ride. She was pleased when she had gotten big enough to have an excuse not to join him. Henry called them relaxing, Cora called them boring. Especially when he would want to lay out a blanket and discuss the constellations. As it turned out, he wasn't as much a dolt as she'd first assumed, which was a relief when it came to her child's potential. Sadly, he had filled his head with sentimental and ornamental drivel. Chivalry, honor, duty, constellations - competitive horseback riding! It was all the same. If it had no practical use, he was an expert, it seemed. He was a dreamer. And while she had to admit, being the focus of it was rather intoxicating, and somehow he'd wormed a place into her heart with his charms, his lack of practicality also infuriated her.

He sidled up to her, took a knee, and planted a kiss at the corner of her mouth, then one on her belly. "How does this night find you my dear?"

Cora wrinkled her nose and pulled back. "How many times must I ask you to change before you greet me after your ride? You know that stink of horse and that swampy stable yard has made me queasy ever since I fell pregnant."

Henry smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry Cora dear. I just had to check on m'lady and m'baby before I washed up."

"Yes, well, we're fine." She looked down and shuffled the stack of papers she had in front I'd her.

Henry frowned. "Something is amiss?"

Cora propped an elbow on the desk, and rested her forehead against the back of her hand. 'Lesson 36: Never touch your face with the palm of your hand or fingers if bare, lest the skin become over oiled and pores clogged with dirt.' She sighed. "I had hoped never to need reveal this, but it seems I have no choice."

Henry's face clouded with worry. "What has you so vexed? You should never carry such burdens alone."

'Here it goes,' she thought. She pulled down every protective mask, every wall, and then focused on all the fright and worry and sadness swirling inside her, giving it free reign, and then amplifying it. She would need all the sympathy possible to rush him past the lies and deceit and into sympathy. Tears pricked at her eyes and she let out a shuddering deep breath. "I fear that a deal I made, to find my happy ending, has come due. I fear for my safety, but more importantly, our daughter's safety!"

Henry's expression flitted between confusion, alarm, anger, and love, as if his heart couldn't decide which path to take. To her relief, it seemed to settle on love. "We're having a little girl?" he said in soft wonder. Then his eyes widened in alarm. "My baby girl is in danger?! What must I do?"

'And the baby's mother. Your supposed love!' she had nearly blurted out. She pushed the urge down, choosing to focus on the positives. He wasn't angry. "We must send for my father. You and he are the only family we have in this world. And it must be a family decision." He nodded and sprang to obey, sending a footman to retrieve his father-in-law from the east wing of the estate, where he was quartered.

Cora let the tears flow freely now. "Oh, can you ever forgive me? I never thought it would end this way!"

Henry wrapped his arms around his wife. "Shh. Shh. I know you would never harm anyone on purpose. There's nothing to forgive. I'm sure you did whatever you did because you believed it to be your best chance."

"How can you say that without even knowing what I've done?" she sniffled, her tears slowing as she was genuinely taken aback by his conditionless understanding. "Because the mother of my beautiful baby girl could never do something so terrible that I wouldn't love her."

Cora tensed for just a moment. 'Not because you know me? That I would never do such a thing?' she wondered. Realizing she still had sympathy to garner as she revealed her subterfuge of their first meeting, she focused on the tears once again. She forced herself to relax, but somehow her heart felt a little harder, the tears a little more difficult to summon.

As her father was retrieved, Cora told Henry of the misunderstanding that had occurred the day they met - more or less. She explained that she didn't want him to lose face. That though she had heard he and his father were kind, she had suffered rude and even cruel treatment at the hand of visiting royals at the smallest perceived slight. That she was frightened he would be the same. She neglected to mention that she'd lied about the commonness of nightingales in the region, but did tell him that his kind gift had inspired her to seek out a powerful wizard rumored to be in the realm, in the hopes of trading his gifted cloak for the items he needed.

"Please, don't mention the details to my father. He was so against the deal. It's a point of contention between us to this day. He needs to know, but... I don't wish to reopen old wounds." And she hadn't informed him of her planned deception.

Henry looked into her eyes, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "As you wish. I know even more than before how precious and fleeting the relationship is between a father and his child. I don't wish to add any more bad memories than any your strife has caused." She gave him a small smile, but further conversation was halted by the arrival of her father.

The fit but aging man bowed with his typical lack of grace. It mystified and embarrassed that her father was every bit the living embodiment of the old saying, 'you can dress a donkey like a prince, but he's still just an ass'. She'd suffered over a year of etiquette lessons, rules being drilled into her head, to fit in and live up to her new status. Yet, she still saw visiting dignitaries giggling behind their fans and gloves at him, when they thought she wasn't looking. "Duke Alys." Still, gods help him, he tried.

"How many times must I say, you must call me Henry," her husband replied genially. She often wondered at his reluctance to drop formalities with Henry. Had she not hidden her own embarrassment of his foibles well enough? He didn't seem to be suffering the dementia of old age.

Her father gave Cora a warm smile. "Cora, dear." He finally saw the tears on her cheeks and he approached. "What's wrong? Is the baby alright?"

"She's fine," Cora replied with a muted smile.

A mirror for Henry's reaction, her father's eyes grew wide. "You're having a girl? Did you see a soothsayer? If this is the news, I can't fathom the tears. Then again... your mother did weep with joy the moment she first saw her daughter. Hers weren't the only watery eyes that day, I confess." At the soon-to-be parent's somber expressions he was pulled from his nostalgia. "It's not about the baby, is it? It's not as we feared...?"

Cora nodded. "It is. He's returned." Her face scrunched up as she tried not to cry. Once she'd let the barriers down, she was finding it hard to raise the dam back up. "He wants my baby, Papa."

Henry stepped aside as her father rushed the few strides to quickly take his daughter in his arms. He knew sometimes one needed their father to make them feel safe. As he let the two have their moment he couldn't help the smile that continually tugged at his lips. 'I'm to have my own little girl.' It was surreal and terrifying and he absolutely couldn't wait all at once. He felt as if the only thing keeping him from floating away in his joy was the anchor that was Cora's disturbing news. His beautiful wife had turned out to be more complex than the image of the clever young beauty he'd met in the woods, but his father had assured him that it was the way of things - especially with young people. That love wasn't about loving someone because you could see no faults. It wasn't loving them in spite of their faults, but for their faults and perfections, all the same. It was, after all, what made them the person you loved, just as there can be no light without the dark. Now was certainly his first test. His first chance to prove his love for his wife - and his devotion as a father. He hadn't even seen the little babe, but he already knew he would lay down his life for her. But he wondered how Cora could have promised her first born. Did this mean she didn't feel the same? "Please, Cora. And before I say this, know that I will support you however I can..." he began softly. Father and daughter stepped back from each other's embrace. "But I must know... how could you give away your future child..? For wealth and the life of my father, a man you didn't even know?"

Cora fought the urge to lash out at such an assumption. - that she had entered into a contract knowing that price? As the angry, and hurt, haze cleared from her vision she saw it; her way to get him to take the guilt. To make him in her debt, so he would blindly follow her plan. "I did it for a young kind man, who surely had just as loving a father just the same. For a man who made me feel like a princess the moment I spoke to him. I did it for you Henry. For love." She teared up again as she turned to him, took his hand, and gazed into his eyes. "But I didn't know the price. He merely asked for a favor to be named in the future. Oh! How could I have been so naive?" She dropped his hand and spun around, hands over her mouth as if ashamed. She saw her father blanch for a moment, but Henry's was too focused on Cora to notice.

Henry gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey... you cannot blame yourself for this. I never should have asked a simple farm girl for help when she was so clearly in need. Curse me for simply wishing to have another moment with you in the wood!"

Cora hung her head, her shoulders sagged, and she felt Henry's arms wrap around her. "I thought myself so clever, asking for an escape clause, too! To be allowed one chance to offer a substitute payment!" she said in feigned despair.

Henry's ear perked up at that. "Then all is not lost!" He spun her around to face him and she feigned confusion. "Don't you see? Whatever he would take instead of our child is worth the price!"

Cora shook her head. "He said a child must lose a parent. I take that to mean one of us must go with him. It must be one of us. Our daughter must lose her mother or her daughter before she even knows them... or I must lose my father..."

"You shall lose neither - I will give myself to this Rumpelstiltskin," Henry declared. "I can think of no one better to act as a father in my stead than the man who raised my Cora."

Cora's father shook his head. "No. Your family is young. It's a father's place to take his children's burdens onto himself, should he be able. I've raised my family. My granddaughter should should have her father."

"You misunderstand me," replied Henry. "I shall return. Nothing can stand in the way of true love - I would take down a dragon with my bare hands for the life of my daughter. I shall find a way back."

"Or die trying," Cora's father shot back. "Your heart is true, but I know all too well that there are some things even true love cannot conquer. Cora would still have her mother if it were so." He gazed at the reflection of the flickering candle in the bedroom window. He'd always liked to imagine it as the ethereal reflection of his wife's soul still by his side. "And you underestimate the power of the Dark One."

"The Dark One?" Henry asked, the pitch of his voice hitching up in alarm. "Surely just a legend."

"We didn't know, we thought him just a tricky little wizard at the time. But yes, we believe him to be the one of legend," replied Cora quickly, trying to patch up any inconsistencies between her story to Henry and her father's comment.

Henry ran a hand down his wife's arm. "I see now why you despair. If legend holds true, he is ruthless and not to be trifled with. We must be quite careful, and cleverer still." He sighed. "Still, I cannot fathom how to outfox him when all we know is legend."

Cora took Henry's hands. "There is one last thing I need tell you. I have been sending servants of the realm forth on a quest to gather what information they could on this Rumpelstiltskin. Everything they have found is in that stack of parchment at my writing table. I only did it to be cautious, after I learned I was with child. I didn't tell you for I didn't want to needlessly worry you. And when I heard that he was known for taking children... I was going to tell you but your father was ill.. and it never seemed the right time after he passed. I hope you will not think too poorly of me for the deceit..."

"For sparing me distress? Never." He gently ran the back of his fingers across her cheek. "But you're as stubborn as your father, you know. He won't call me Henry and you won't let yourself depend on those that love you. What must it take for you to realize you're never alone?"

It was a lovely idea, and she allowed herself to be lulled into it, warmed by it, but only for the briefest of moments. Her mother's clammy, slack hands held in her small, warm ones flashed in her mind's eye, reminding her that everyone leaves eventually. And someone has to be the last to left. She knew that her father could have just as easily been taken along with the disease that took her mother. He had suffered from it first. But only by the grace of the gods, she hadn't been left alone. Powerless to determine her own fate. But Henry didn't understand that; he'd never been faced with the possibility, and she was sure that his naiveté would get him killed one day if he couldn't see past the veil of sentimentality. The world always favors the bold and cynical in the end."I wish I knew," she lied through her teeth.

"Perhaps our daughter will teach you," he replied, placing a hand on Cora's belly.

'Perhaps my mother already taught me the truth,' she thought. "I hope so," she said aloud, and surprised herself when she realized part of her meant it.

Cora's father watched this exchange and his heart sank. Henry may not be able to see through his daughter's deceptions, but he could. He had hoped that she might find love with the young man. Henry was a good, kind, and devoted husband; he could ask for no more in a man for his daughter, but he knew very well that love comes from the heart - not the head. Now that she was carrying his child, his heir, there was no option but to stay with him. But with the revelation that she was having a daughter, he hoped she would finally be able to mend the wound in her heart that was inflicted the day her mother died; be able to finally let go. And then, perhaps, she might even be able to let Henry into her heart. He knew what must be done for his girl. "Henry," said, his voice steady and steely as a broadsword's blade; a blade that cut through the energy vibrating between Cora and Henry, gaining their attention. It was the first, and possibly last, time his voice had carried a regal tone to match his royal clothes. "It must be me."

Henry blinked, taking the sudden shift of demeanor in the other man. "If your resolve is so strong that it has made you finally use my given name, I know I cannot argue. I wager you just as strong-willed as your daughter. It seems to be a Mills family trait."

"That it is," Cora's father replied simply. "And you honor me by respecting my wishes."

"No, sir. You honor me by making this sacrifice for my family," Henry intoned. "But know this: I will do whatever is in my power to bring you home safely. I know not how, but tomorrow will not be the last day my wife sees her father and you shall see your granddaughter."

"Papa, you can't!" Her intention had been for Henry to go with Rumpelstiltskin, freeing her from matrimonial bonds she hadn't desired, letting her pursue a better match. "Who knows what he's capable of, or what he has planned for you!"

Her father simply regarded her with soft, sad eyes. "Henry, I would like to have a moment alone with my daughter, if you would allow it."

The young royal nodded. "Of course. I understand." He planted a feather light kiss on Cora's tear-stained cheek and left the two to have their moment.

After the sound of Henry's boots on stone had faded Cora erupted. "I can't let you do this! I won't! Let Henry take our baby's place in the exchange! I intend to attempt to rescue him," she pleaded. And she was being truthful. She was fond of the man, if not in love. And he was the father of her child. But all that aside, the death of two dukes of Alys in less than a year would bring far too much suspicion on her. She planned to mount a campaign to 'save' her husband and play the grieving widow. Should they succeed, she would get over the loss of a new future, but she knew from her intelligence gathering that it was unlikely they would. "I can't lose you Papa!"

Her father wrapped his strong arms around her; one at her waist, the other the back of her head in a manner reminiscent of how he held her as a babe. He shushed her quietly as he stroked her hair. "I will always be with you - in this life and the next. Have faith, my little sparrow. All things happen for a reason."

"But whose reasons?" The crocodile tears were gone now. Every tear of Cora's that rolled down her father's neck, where she'd nuzzled her face, was genuine now. She sniffled, trying to get a hold of herself, thinking she must look a fright. Lesson 27: Whether laughing or crying, if in public, a lady must be mindful to not emulate a farm animal, but a babbling brook in winter.

"Ours is not to worry why, ours is but to do and die," he said, his tone making the phrase sound more like a prayer than an old adage.

Cora's breath hitched at the word 'die' and she buried her face harder into the spot where neck meets collarbone on her father. "How can you just have blind faith in some higher plan?" she asked, voice muffled by her father's coat.

Her father's hands found their way up to her shoulders. He gripped them firmly and gently pushed her back so he could look her in the eyes. He almost gasped from the pain of his heart breaking when the russet eyes that looked back were those of the confused and frightened little girl he hadn't seen in years. "It's not some mysterious higher plan, it's my plan." Cora furrowed her brow in confusion. "Cora... I love you more than life itself, and I realize the danger I'm putting myself in. But I couldn't live with myself if I let you lose your second chance at true love."

"I don't understand..." her voice barely above a whisper.

"You already traded away your chance at finding your soul mate. We all agree that under no circumstances will 'Stiltskin have your baby, but a little girl needs her father if she is to grow up feeling as happy and loved as is possible. You can't create a hole in her heart before she's even born... A wounded heart never fully heals, and I will not chance the possibility that you may not know the true love between parent and child simply because the child's heart is too guarded to love anyone completely."

"But you just said, every girl needs her father," she protested.

"No. Every little girl needs him. You're a woman now, Cora. My sparrow is ready to fly on her own, and if it takes me pushing her out of the nest to show her, then so be it. But then, my job will be complete."

Cora shook her head. "Job? But you're my father. You'll always be my Papa..."

He nodded. "Indeed I shall always be, whether I'm here or not. We all must leave someday, child. Sometimes too soon, but should you not be able to rescue me, I shall rest easy knowing I have raised a beautiful, confident, and capable daughter. You'll understand one day, when you've been a parent. This is our job and our hope and the only goal that matters in our lives. Have you never seen a parent who grieves a child they have lost? They have failed in the way that truly matters most, and most cannot help but be consumed by the grief." He cupped her face in his large calloused hands. "That is my final lesson to you, my dearest. We cannot know what this world has in store for us. But whatever may happen, but gods forbid you ever lose a child, never let the grief of loss consume you. Instead, you take back your happiness any way you can. Do you promise me this?"

Cora swallowed hard and nodded. "I promise Papa."

He smiled. "Good girl. Your mother is so proud."

"How can you know that?" she asked.

"She is your mother," he replied simply.

Cora hugged her father once more, but unlike before, she simply rested her chin on his shoulder and stared at the reflection of herself and her father in a sea of black in the glass window pane. The glass was clearly antique, likely crafted by hand in the village before the great goblin factories of the Erlking Islands were founded. It was distorted by waves and bubbles, and time had given it the appearance of having melted, which twisted their reflected appearance. She knew she was imagining things, but a trick of light and distorted glass gave the appearance that an empty abyss, about the size of a woman, her mother, was between them. Whatever her father said, no matter how much she wanted to believe it, her heart told her it wasn't true. She would only do her mother proud by keeping her deathbed promise. He couldn't understand that, and she knew she couldn't explain it, so she let him go on thinking she agreed.

"I'm going to find a way to save you," she vowed with hushed passion.

He sighed. "That's not your job."

"It is now." Her voice was particularly resolute in tone.

He knew the sound well and couldn't help the gentle, nostalgic chuckle that rose from his chest. "You sound more like your mother every day. She thought nobody could stop her when her mind was made up."

"Maybe nobody could stop here. But something did."

"Sometimes that's the way of things," he replied.

"Who says?"

He could hear the steel in her eyes, even as her head remained nestled against his neck. He knew that the beautiful hubris of youth was also its folly, and there were some things a person could only fully understand by learning the hard way. And then try in vain to teach their children the same lesson. "Do you know how your mother fell ill?"

Cora drew back, a look of worried confusion in her eyes. She searched his face. "It was winter. She got sick..."

He shook his head. "I think you are old enough to understand the real truth now."

"The truth?" she asked, a note of betrayal in her voice. "You lied to me?"

"Sometimes a parent must lie to spare our loved ones pain. Especially children. She gave her life so that I, and thus you, may live," he replied sadly.

"Papa, I - "

He had never spoken of this to anyone and was certain that if he didn't say it now, he never would. "I was short-tempered in my younger days. Your mother said she loved my passion, but it got me in trouble - but no trouble greater than the night I insulted a gypsy clan. A traveling caravan of them had arrived in the village - to put on shows, trade, and share news of distant lands. This happened to be just before Thom Umber's wedding, and we, his best men, decided to give him one last night of debauchery before he was pledged to a wife. Well, another one of the lads decided to hire the visiting gypsies as the night's entertainment. Music, dancing, and of course, plenty of wine. I was more cups in than I should like to admit, when this olive-skinned beauty began her dance. She looked more like a dark fairy than a vagabond. She leapt and dipped with the music, the tails of her ghwazee coat flapped and soared as if trying to take flight with every twirl. I was entranced." Cora had been unconsciously backing away slowly, and she now slid herself onto the foot of her bed. She drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees, her form largely lost among the draped folds of her dressing gown, her slippered feet poking out and the bottom as she settled the arches of her feet on the intricately carved baseboard. She had never heard her father speak so eloquently, though she had vague memories of him telling stories into the night by the fireplace, and that her mother seemed to be just as enthralled as Cora. 'Wordsmith,' her mother had replied when a very small Cora asked what her Papa did all day. 'He may plant and mill grain all day, but he is a wordsmith in his heart. Remember that a person's work doesn't define then, but their heart's passion.' He hadn't spun a single tale after her mother died. Like his heart's passion had died that day too.

"I would never cheat on your mother. I loved her too deeply. But the fiery desires that are the bane of all young men convinced me that a dance would do no harm. I stood to dance with her, and at first she played along, drifting close but always fluttering away before touching. Even in my drunken haze I could see some of the gypsy men eying me, but I assumed it was simple jealousy. It only encouraged my boldness, as I tried engage a courtly dance – the type that require holding the other's hands. At some point, I sprang on her like a cat on a moth, and lifted her - spun her. While still aloft, she kneed me in the gut so hard I dropped her. Her eyes shot daggers at me from under her ebony locks of hair as she lay sprawled on the ground. I hadn't noticed that whole group, on both sides, had frozen, waiting to see what would happen. I was too angry, my ego bruised. I cursed at her... called her a name that would make a pirate blush... that was my true mistake. I didn't know it at the time, but the girl was betrothed... and the musicians were her four brothers. Honor dictated them no other option but to attack me. They had to protect her honor. They tackled me, and my friends came to my defense. I don't know how long the brawl went. Only how it ended. Do you remember that I was sick first? How when I suddenly got better and your mother suddenly got ill?"

"I was a child... I thought you just got better..."

He shook his head. "All those fighting froze at once, as if by magic - which it probably was. A gnarled woman who looked older than the woods themselves stood above me. She said this was between myself and the clan elders. That only fire, not blood, would cleanse the dishonor visited on her clan. That I should be cursed to be devoured bodily by the same flames of passions I allowed to engulf my heart. What happened next, I am not sure. I awoke in the horse's trough, which should have been freezing, but I was too hot with fever to tell. I later found out that the gypsies had brought me home and explained to your mother what had happened. She had them dump me in the water to keep my fever at bay. Days passed and even the wise woman's herbs would not break my fever. I was delusional almost constantly when awake, and tormented by fever dreams when asleep. Still, I would never have let your mother do what she did had I been right of mind. Your mother could find no one who knew anything else to do. But she refused to let me go. Somehow, she tricked the gypsies in to telling her how to contact someone who could help. She was already far too gone to the fever to tell me how, but she had acquired a potion that let her take my curse from me and take it into her."

Cora's father now knelt at the foot of his daughter's bed clutching at her skirts, as if pleading. "She was convinced that she could beat the curse. That she was strong enough." He blinked back his tears. "You're like her in so many ways, and it brings joy to my heart every day that a little piece of her remains, but..."

"You're afraid I shall share her fate," Cora stated sadly.

"I have one more promise you must keep, Cora. That you will not save me at the cost of your life, your daughter's life, or even Henry's. I cannot bear to carry the burden of another life lost in exchange for mine. It's too great a price!"

Cora gathered up his hands, wondering at how small he suddenly looked, on his knees before her. "I promise," she replied through her own stinging tears.

"Then I can rest easy, and that in and of itself is a precious gift," he replied.

"And I shall not rest until you're safe once again, or I have lost you," she vowed. She glanced up at her vanity mirror, thinking she heard something peculiar. She narrowed her eyes at her own reflection, studying it. Something felt... wrong.

Many league's distance away, Rumpelstiltskin sat before his own mirror, watching the scene unfold. A gruesome grin twisted his face from behind fingers tented before his lips. The girl would have to learn much and learn it quick if she was to have even a sporting chance to take him on. Lessons like you never let an imp cast an unknown spell in her home - especially on a mirror. He giggled at his little act of mischief, and was surprised when Cora seemed to lock eyes with his own. "Interesting..." he remarked quietly to himself. "Well, let the games begin, dearie. First event: Bait and Switch."

Mr. Gold cocked his head to one side. "Quite the touching little scene really. I might even feel a little guilty now about the whole thing if I didn't know what Cora was in her heart of hearts." She shrugged.

"You mean, what you made her," replied Regina darkly.

"What do you mean 'might feel guilty now'?" asked David suspiciously.

Gold raised an eyebrow at the other man. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm no longer the farcical, giggling little imp you knew and loved back home."

"Have you been sending him valentines?" Snow mumbled to Charming.

"What? No appreciation for the cupid who brought you two together and made sure you had a happy ending?" Gold asked. He received nothing but glares from everyone present, but didn't seem to care. "Very well. The point is, in a land with no magic, I was able to reclaim much of my humanity. And my beloved has been returned to me. I'm far more man than imp now, even with my magic. Only one final puzzle piece left, and I will be whole."

"Are you going to tell us what that final piece is supposed to be?" asked Emma. "Or are you saving that for a dinner party game of Pictionary with the little misses?"

"All in good time, sheriff." He rolled his eyes up and tapped the end of his nose thoughtfully. "Tonight, in fact, if you'll be good enough to stay behind when I've finished with this little story. I believe it's time to cash in that favor you owe me..." he said pleasantly, as if asking to borrow a cup of sugar.

"My daughter will not be left alone with the likes of you!" David declared hotly, taking a threatening step towards the trickster who had used his family too many times before.

Emma put a restraining hand on his shoulder. She looked at him in puzzled exasperation. The whole overprotective-father thing was still novel enough that she could put up with it, but more than once he'd undermined her efforts to exert her legal authority over a town full of scared, lost people by trying to step up and do her job. She knew his intentions were in the right place, but this wasn't the land of fairytales, and he was not a king, even if people regarded him that way. As she understood it, not even all the people in Storybrooke came from kingdoms under his rule, raising the question of why his authority should surpass that of Midas or Thomas. They were, however, all currently under her jurisdiction, so until a new mayor could be elected, legal authority had fallen to her. Every time he answered a resident's question directed at her, or insisted he should go in her place for any dangerous task, he was chipping away at people's confidence in the 'Savior'. She didn't want to be the 'Savior', even now, but she did want to do her job. And at the moment, that included using the whole 'Savior' nonsense to keep people calm and organized. Snow had tried to explain that he was overcompensating for all the times he'd let his family down while under the curse, and to give him time. She could understand that, she was still going through a lot of the same with Henry. The difference was that Henry was a kid, and she was very much not. But Emma was beginning to question how much time they had to let him adjust. "Look, I appreciate your concern David, but I can handle myself by myself. It's kinda my thing."

He frowned, his heart and his head still very much at odds when it came to his very much grown baby girl. "But you don't have to act alone anymore," he protested.

"But she has, and she can," interjected Snow, and her heart alighted at the discrete, grateful smile she received from her daughter in return. "Don't make me say 'and that's final', Charming. Don't test me - I will," she teased, trying to remind him of how he was making Emma feel by ordering him about as a child. They had had this discussion a few times now. "I put my very life in her hands, and she didn't let me down even when everyone else had," she stated when David seemed ready to continue his protest. "You need to put your ego aside, and act on the faith and trust she gave her the day she was born." It was a low blow, using his behavior under the curse to guilt him into acquiescence, but she wasn't going to let him off the hook until he did.

Finally, his body relaxed in resignation. "I believe in you, Emma," he offered by way of apology, and Emma couldn't help but smile back.

He couldn't have known those were Henry's last words to her before he'd almost died, but Emma had started to believe there was a little bit of magic behind the charm of Charming. Since awakening, he no longer stored his feet in his mouth; instead, he had a knack for saying just the right thing at the right time. Even when she'd think she saw the Nolan in David rearing its head, he'd save himself with a few choice words. It was why, for the life of her, she couldn't seem to stay irritated with his behavior long enough to buck against his overprotective tendencies like she normally would have by now.

Regina, watching this whole exchange, felt a surge of jealousy rise within her, and it had daggers for Emma, wondering why she had been blessed with Snow White for a mother. The strangeness of envying a woman a mother who may very well be her step-daughter quickly knocked the jealous impulse out of her mind. Not to mention, the blond being the mother of her adopted son. For all she knew, Snow may have learned how to step into parenting a child while getting to know her, from Regina herself. Her mind tried to untwist the logic of the whole situation and it quickly gave her a headache. She sighed and tried to simply feel grateful that her father had been a devoted and loving man, if not possessed of the the will to fight his own wife for her.

Mr. Gold leaned over and whispered loudly out of the corner of his mouth. "Family, eh? Even the healthy ones that wont for nothing have their strife," he remarked.

Clearly he'd intended his tone to convey mockery, but he couldn't completely mask the jealousy in his heart. Not from the likes of Regina at least, and she wondered how this tied into his schemes. Still, after what she'd just learned, her distrust for the imp had risen to healthy levels of disgust. "Healthy? They seem pretty screwed up from over here," she replied. She hadn't raised her voice any louder than Gold's but even a few centuries of nick-knacks couldn't stop her words from carrying in a space so small. Snow, David, and Emma eyes were all on her at, clearly not sure what to make of the remark. Regina did her best to pretend she hadn't noticed them looking, but couldn't help but cringe at the scrutiny. Still, she kept her attention on Gold. "I mean, they don't even know how to be a family, yet, really. That was stolen from them, just like you twisted my mother and stole whatever chance at a happy family I ever had! But who can blame them? Who has parents their own age?! Who has to deal with being forced to abandon their children two generations in a row? They haven't gotten the chance thanks to some terrible curse I'd bet you had some hand in, given how much you seem to be benefiting from the whole affair, and on top of it all, rather than use your power to shoulder some of the burden done at your hands, and fix the destroyed property or help people find their missing loved ones, you're still selfishly scheming in this little curio shop of yours! It's no wonder you and my mother had so much history together! She should have married you and saved the rest of us the trouble!" she huffed. Realizing she was out of breath, she simply glared at the pawnbroker.

Emma smirked in surprise. "Yeah. What she said." This younger version of Regina continued to surprise her. Rather than the low growl of a well thought out speech Regina had thrown her way more than once, this woman's unrehearsed, high-pitched diatribe felt much more genuine in content and motivation. She knew what she was hearing was very much what Regina believed. Even better, it seemed to throw Gold off-balance as he calculated his best next move now that his nemesis was playing an entirely different game.

He didn't really care what happened to the former queen, so long as he got what he desired, which he considered lucky for the woman. Unless some unforeseen event should reveal itself, and there was little that was unforeseeable for him, then Regina was a rather worthless piece on the board. He'd used her for what he needed. He would tell them what he knew of Cora, but only to keep himself somewhat in Emma's good graces. The blond was every bit her parent's, which meant keeping her happy was wiser than infuriating her. He regarded the flushed red, inexperienced Regina before him. The Evil Queen had required the exact opposite approach. It was the only part of her circumstances that was a shame, really. He would miss toying with her. 'Ah well,' he thought. He was old enough to know that everything, good or bad, had its end.

Gold knocked twice on the floor with his cane, aping some kind of medieval gavel. "Well, then, have you all gotten your venom for me out so I may continue? I haven't even gotten close to the best part. Cora was always a sore loser, but even I was surprised by what she did when I took her father."

"Wait. My mother always told me her father died in a hunting accident," replied Regina. She had assumed Gold's story would end with her grandfather being rescued, only to die tragically shortly after. Cora never failed when she was determined to have her way.

Gold shrugged. "That's correct in a manner of speaking. But really, are you so surprised she veiled the truth from you?" At the irritated twitch in Regina's mouth, he nodded. "As I thought. Now, where were we? Oh, yes! The following night I came back as I said I would, having watched their scheming late into the evening and the following day. Henry had sent men to gather intelligence from as far as they could reach in half a day, but they learned no more than Cora had already collected. They formulated a plan to get me to allow communications between Cora and her father after I imprisoned him, and a secret code which they could use to relay messages of their rescue plans. Quite adorable, but I suppose you had to be there. Or perhaps I could simply show you? I tire of this endless rambling. Bad for the throat, you know, and I have travel plans to draw up."

He swiped his fingers across the glass countertop of one of his display cases and it rippled like water in response. But instead of remaining clear, it turned opaque and settled into what appeared to be a view from Cora's vanity mirror. Regina gasped, having never seen what looked like painting made of living people, but more importantly, the images of her parents as young adults, and the grandfather she'd never known. Snow was fascinated as well, noticing that Cora seemed to have always had a sharpness to her elegant features. Regina looked very much like her mother, but softened in the face and gentler curves by her father's build. She found herself glancing between the image of a young Cora and Henry, and Regina. She hadn't realized it before, but while the Evil Queen had very much had her mother's eyes, the Regina beside her had her father's eyes. Even as Mayor Mills, the woman had them when she thought no one was watching her watch her son. She supposed it had to be the presence of love in her heart. Perhaps Regina had never truly lost that last shred of her humanity after all.

The group leaned in, as if to hear better, despite the sound so clear it was as if they were in the same room. They were going over their plan one last time, nervously eying the clock which was about to strike eight.

A/N: Cora's story continues in the next chapter, and then we'll be rolling through a lot of young!Regina in Storybrooke and the Charmings dealing with the town/council. Now, if I've done my job right, I will have succeeded in my personal challenge and you'll come away with a little bit of sympathy for Cora at the end of the Rumple's tale. That's like squeezing blood from a stone, of course. Review and let me know how I'm doing, won't you?