First of all, thank you all for reading this! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Arinlianette: Actually, it wasn't incoherent. "...Mr. Gold deliberately chose rage." There will be further mention in this very chapter about how his choice to inflict an actual wound on Paige was deliberate... So while he did, indeed, leave potential proof, he didn't do it accidentally...

TheSlytherinWolf: Thank you so much! And just so you know, we'll be seeing a little bit more of Rumpel pulling strings and making things work to his own advantage in this chapter... He's not mucking with Eliza's life just for the amusement value... We'll be seeing more on that as time goes by. And just so you know, the masquerade was the first time he met Eliza, and also when he decided that she would be perfect for his purposes... to quote chapter six, "Now that he had found what he was looking for, it was time to begin creating a need in her life. A need only he could fulfill. It would take a couple of years, but Rumpelstiltskin was a patient man." But was the masquerade the first time he saw her? We shall see...

And as always, I only own the characters and storylines I have created...

Watch for a new "fairy tale" to be incorporated here... don't worry, if you don't catch it, it's mentioned in the notes at the end. (And no, it has nothing to do with the character we see in this first scene... we've seen her before on the show, so I don't count the fairy tale she's in as a new one...)

Enjoy!


"Ah, there you are, Maleficent," came Rumpelstiltskin's oily greeting.

Maleficent managed not to jump, although her startled heart certainly skipped a beat or two. She hated it when the vile little man snuck up on her like this. "Have you found what I asked for, Rumple?" Although she desperately hoped so, her voice did not betray her. She sounded almost disdainful, as though she would rather be idle and bored than see what Rumpelstiltskin had brought for her.

But the impish man smirked; he knew better. "Indeed, I have Mally." His smirk deepened as he watched her fight to keep her anger from him. She hated it when he called her that, so he, of course, couldn't resist. Besides, he preferred not to be called 'Rumple' by someone like her. With a flourish, he grandly announced, "To cure your loneliness, you need… a pet."

With a scathing sneer, Maleficent asked, "What am I supposed to do, get a dog? I've never cared much for pets." She was lying, of course. When her beloved raven had been turned into stone, she had been devastated. She had cried herself to sleep over his death for much longer than she had over her own defeat. She knew that her failure would have been far easier to bear if he were here to share her isolated banishment. But the idea of getting another bird, or even a somewhat more mundane pet, made her feel just a bit sad.

Making a face and waving his hands in a negating gesture, Rumpelstiltskin said, "Oh, no no no, dearie, nothing so common as that. I've got just the thing for you." He turned, and a puff of black and gold smoke obscured part of the room for a moment, before it faded into a glittering mist that quickly vanished entirely. A small, shaggy black unicorn stood there.

Maleficent felt her breath catch in her throat. She had always thought that the black unicorns had left this land years ago! Unicorns were intelligent beings, perhaps even more so than humans. How had Rumpelstiltskin persuaded this lovely creature to come with him? She stared eagerly at the delicate creature, barely remembering to breathe.

Rumpelstiltskin knew he had her. Maleficent wanted this creature badly; it was written all over her entire being. For this, she would give up that one thing he needed from her. Without it, all his careful maneuvering over the years could be for naught.

"What's his name?" Maleficent's voice was almost a reverent whisper.

She was astonished to hear a voice in her head. I am Gaudior, chimed the strange thought-voice. There was just enough hint of maleness to keep the unicorn's thoughts from sounding androgynous.

With a slight blush, Maleficent's gaze flicked to Rumpelstiltskin. A sudden fear had occurred to her, and she didn't want the vile imp to hear her question. Wondering if she could communicate with Gaudior the same way he had spoken to her, she focused her thoughts on the unicorn. I am no maiden, Unicorn. Will you leave me?

Smirking, Rumpelstiltskin said, "No need to think so loudly, dearie. It's easiest just to speak to him." He snickered when Maleficent blushed because he had heard her thoughts. "Hardly information we didn't know, Mally," he goaded. Then he pulled the vial out of his pocket, still on the cord that enabled the charm to be worn around the neck. "And with this, he'll have to stay close, no matter what." His laugh was harsh and cruel.

Maleficent's eyes widened. At a glance, she recognized what that charm was, what it was meant to do. A part of her thought it cruel to keep the unicorn chained to mortals against his will, but another part of her understood the urge to keep this rare, beautiful creature close by. She did notice Gaudior's distaste for the thing, but now was not the time to deal with that. He didn't belong to her yet.

"He's wonderful, Rumpelstiltskin," she breathed. "You were right. Thank you." She hated saying that to the creepy little man, but she felt he had truly outdone himself.

"I knew he was for you as soon as I laid eyes on him, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin replied. "But there is one more thing. We haven't discussed the subject of payment," he said, smiling sinisterly.


Paige stared at the scene before her for a long moment. A queen lay in childbed, her husband at one side and her daughter at the other. A faun nervously prepared for the difficult birth. Suddenly the scene started to rush toward Paige, so that she would have flinched and held out her hands to brace herself if she could have. Suddenly she was standing in the daughter's place. She dimly heard herself saying, "Good Doctor, save the baby." She felt tears running down her face, and she heard the sound of herself weeping, but from far away, as if it were underwater.

Without warning, the unconscious queen sat up, opening eyes that were filled with anger. Fire seemed to flicker in the pupils of the queen's eyes as she shouted, "It was YOU! You did this to me!"

"It's not my fault!" Paige screamed. "There wasn't any other way." She could feel the scream in her throat, but the only sound she heard was a whispered echo of the words inside her mind.

The queen's raging form filled Paige's vision; the only other thing she could see was the flicker of torches behind the queen, which only added to the fiery appearance. But something else started to swim into view off to the queen's left side, but behind her. It was an image Paige had never seen except in her worst imaginings: a figure identical to the queen, but in more mundane clothes, stood on a chair with a rope around her neck, slitting her wrists. Then she kicked the chair out from under her feet and dangled for a moment that lasted forever, just staring into Paige's eyes. When the beam broke and Paige's mother fell, Paige tried to scream. She felt the hoarseness in her throat, but the only sound was the rasping breath of the half-choked figure that was climbing unsteadily to its feet. Paige's mother staggered forward to stand beside the queen. They seemed as different as they were alike. Although identical, the queen was the image of rage and fire, where Paige's mother looked pale and washed out, and the light around her was a cold whitish-blue. Even her hair seemed a lighter red, and her face was coldly distant, almost waxy with the onset of death.

"Your…fault…" the pale figure rasped, wheezing for the breath it needed to speak. "You…left…me…alone…"

Paige tried to back away from the two apparitions, but stumbled. She fell backwards, still scrambling away from the two versions of her mother. "I only made the choice you would have wanted," she cried to the flaming figure. To the other she pleaded, "But you said you were okay. You said you wanted my birthday to be happy." Once again, her mouth moved but the echo in her mind was the only sound that she could hear. She wanted so badly to explain herself to these specters, but they did not seem to hear the whispers inside her head. No matter how loudly she tried to scream, nothing came out.

Scrambling further away as the two figures began a slow, inexorable approach, Paige suddenly backed into a wall. No, it wasn't a wall, it was a corner, and the figures were too close now. She couldn't get away. She screamed silently as they reached out with both hands. Paige's hair on the left side of her head began to sizzle as the angry queen's hands got closer, while the hair on the right side of Paige's head started to freeze and crackle as the suicidal housewife reached for her.

Just as Paige's skin began to burn on one side and freeze on the other, she woke up. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she felt almost as battered as she had when she first came to in the hospital after she was attacked. Her pajamas and her sheets were soaked with sweat, and she could feel her hair plastered to her head.

She gasped, partly for breath and partly from her silent sobbing. She put her face in her hands; she still wasn't sure yet what was real and what was not. Which one of those two vengeful spirits was really her mother? Where was she? Paige, Eliza, Eliza, Paige… who was she?

The clock in town began to chime. At first, Paige jumped, but as the sound continued, it began to soothe her. The clock reminded her of the Evil Queen's Curse, of Storybrooke. This may not be her real life, but it was real right now. Her true past was something she shouldn't have been aware of, but she was one of only a few who remembered.

Still trembling, Paige got up and stripped her bed, putting the sheets and her pajamas into the washer and turning it on. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep now, even though it was only 4AM. She turned the shower on, cold. The physical shock helped her to ground herself in her current reality. She had put a large bandage over the bite mark on her right breast. If it weren't for that mark, Paige would have found it difficult to believe that she had actually defied Mr. Gold like that. The bite mark had bled slightly, reminding Paige of her last memories of her true life, when Rumpelstiltskin was taking his payment for the information he'd given her. The wound stung a little as the water seeped through the bandage.

As she stood crying and shivering under the cold water, she prayed that someone would break this Curse and make everything right again. She wanted to go back to her kingdom, even though she couldn't speak until she had lifted the spell on her brothers. She wanted her prince to love her again; she wanted to fling herself into her father's arms to cry, although she would not be able to do the latter unless she succeeded in her task. But more than anything else, she wanted to be free of Gold's hold on her. Sometimes it seemed hopeless, and now, as she shivered, a new fear came to her.

Perhaps when this Curse was broken, Rumpelstiltskin would expect her to continue their unspoken arrangement. She hardly had any choice in this world, with all its rules and laws, and Gold had certainly seen to it that her fate was placed in his hands. There was no way she could free herself of him without speaking ill of him, and the bargain made that impossible, no matter what world they found themselves in. So would he still take liberties in the other world? Was this what he had intended all along?

The only thing she knew for certain was that if she ever lost hope, it would be the end of her. She would fail in her task and belong to Rumpelstiltskin for the rest of her life, and she could not let that happen, no matter what it cost her. Hope was all she had left now. Hope, and the nearly impossible task that would break the swan spell. She would carry on, if only for the sake of her brothers, which meant that she had to do everything in her power to make sure Gold didn't find out that she had begun that task.

She dreaded going in to work later this morning. She didn't know if Gold had anything… "special" planned for Valentine's Day or not. After all, they weren't a couple. They were just having sex. She blushed even just thinking of that. But especially after what had happened last night, she didn't want to spend today with Mr. Gold. How had she ever dared to stand up to him like that? She wondered what he would say if she texted him that she was feeling sick and wouldn't be in. She swallowed as she pushed away the sudden fear that she might no longer have a job. That wasn't something she wanted to think about right now; things were bad enough with everything else: the nightmare, her new fears about Rumpelstiltskin, the fight with Mike. Not to mention that she still hadn't heard anything from Emma. Paige couldn't remember ever feeling more scared and helpless than she did right now.


"My grimoire?" Maleficent's eyes were wide. Her Book of Shadows held her most powerful spells, as well as a rather significant portion of her own magic. If she gave it away, she would lose that part of her power.

With a devilish grin, Rumpelstiltskin said, "You've been banished, dearie, and all your grand plans have come to naught. You haven't even used your grimoire since that whelp of a girl defeated you. What use is that old thing anymore?"

Maleficent didn't answer. She looked stunned, and was clearly torn.

"Well, if you're not interested, Mally, perhaps I should free the poor beastie from his tethers." Rumpelstiltskin made as if to uncork the vial.

"Wait! Don't!" Maleficent tried to keep her desperation from showing. But the impish man smirked; he knew very well how much she wanted the unicorn. "Why my grimoire? What use have you for my power?"

"Well, it's not exactly your power I'm after, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin replied, a shrewd half-smile on his face. "It's more your impressive collection of spells that intrigues me." Really, it was only a specific spell; now that he had chosen that little blueberry princess to save him from a fate worse than death, he needed that one spell to get him out of the unfortunate circumstance in which he would eventually find himself. He refused to spend the rest of his life in a cage.

"But what about me? I will lose the magic that I've stored in there," Maleficent said. She was hesitant to simply hand over part of her power like this, but Gaudior had captured her heart.

"Have you the inclination to use that power, dearie? After everything that wretched little brat caused you to lose?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, smirking.

Maleficent hesitated for a few more minutes before stroking the jewel at her throat. It was a precise movement which caused an odd shimmer in the air before Maleficent, who held out her hands almost reverently. A large black book with two silver locks solidified in her hands. The cover bore a silver medallion with a raven perched on a bare tree with the full moon looming behind it. She lovingly stroked the image of the raven on the medallion before holding the grimoire out to Rumpelstiltskin.

Grinning wickedly, he took it, saying, "I'll be needing the key as well, dearie."

Tapping the nail of her right forefinger once upon the gem at her neck, Maleficent tucked her left hand into a pocket sewn inside the low neckline of her gown. Once it had materialized in that pocket, she held the silver skeleton key out to the vile man standing before her, but did not let go when he tried to take it. With an evil chuckle, Rumpelstiltskin dropped the vial of powdered unicorn horn into Maleficent's other hand. She let go of the key and watched him saunter away, still chuckling softly.

Maleficent collapsed into her throne-like chair as she suddenly, keenly felt the loss of a significant part of her power.


Some time later, Maleficent realized that the unicorn had not moved. "Gaudior?" she whispered, almost afraid that her voice would scare the lovely creature away.

Yes, Maleficent?The unicorn's thoughts carried no hint of what it was feeling.

"If I freed you of this charm," she said, holding up the vial, "would you leave me? I do not wish to hold you here against your will."

Gaudior eyed the despicable thing with obvious anger. He had been lured in by an innocent maiden, who had sung him to sleep, his head laid in her lap. He had not known that she had been tricked into doing this by a hag intent on possessing one of the few remaining black unicorns. When he woke, he found that a piece of his horn had been cut off and ground up into that little vial, with some kind of spell put on it so he was forced to remain near that tiny piece of himself.

The silver filigree and the cord that made it into a necklace had come a few generations later, when the first hag's great-great granddaughter caught him trying to pick it up in his mouth when it fell out of her pocket in the forest. If only he controlled that dust that had once been his horn…

You are not a maiden, it is true. And neither are you blameless in other ways. His thought-voice still gave nothing away. Maleficent blinked back tears. Could she truly keep this magnificent being trapped here just to cure her own loneliness? Would she survive if she let him leave?

But there is much sadness and hurt in you. And hope. Somehow you have not lost that innocent hope that the pure of heart always seem to cling to. A hint of tenderness mingled with a slight confusion. It is most unusual. A long moment passed. I greatly desire to be free of that foul charm. If you give me my freedom, I will remain with you until your mortal life is done. Gaudior considered it a small price to pay. He was immortal, and even if Maleficent ended up living longer than most, she was still human.


But try as she might, Maleficent could not lift the spell on the vial. She even tried removing the glittering dust from the vial, but that did not break the spell. She could only deduce that the spell had been put on the dust itself, for Gaudior felt no affinity to the vial once it no longer contained the remains of that small piece of his horn. Without knowing the spell that had been used all those generations ago, it would have been difficult enough to break it, but now that Maleficent had lost the power that she had stored in her grimoire, it proved an impossible task.

In the end, Maleficent did the only thing she could think of. She made a collar for Gaudior, and her lessened powers were still easily able to fuse the ground-up dust of his horn into the collar. The unicorn didn't particularly care to wear a collar, but he did want to be his own master again. And Maleficent promised that she would continue to work on the spell, for the rest of her life if need be. If she could find a way, she would free him of that spell forever. And if she couldn't, then at least he held his own bonds, so long as he wore that collar. It wasn't what either of them wanted, but it would do for now.


Mr. Gold was not there to let Paige in at nine the next morning, which had never happened before. She waited anxiously by the door, wondering if something was wrong. She should never have told him she remembered, especially not the way she had done it. She knew he would be angry, and she would bear the brunt of that. But a tiny part of her wondered if he would be so angry that he would voluntarily cease to be her legal guardian. Thanks to her former self's quick thinking, he, too, could speak no ill of her to anyone, so he couldn't try to denounce her to the council.

She leaned against the pawnshop's wall, watching for Gold to come down the sidewalk. Suddenly, at a little before ten, she heard a voice from behind her.

"What are you doing here," Mr. Gold asked angrily, despite how much he had enjoyed his encounter with Moe French a little while ago. Getting one up on Regina had only brightened his mood further, but seeing Paige waiting for him as if it were a normal day soured things for him. "Do you honestly think you still have a job after that little stunt you pulled yesterday?"

Paige felt her face go pale. But wait, can't we please talk about this?

"Very well," he grumbled, unlocking the front door of the shop.

When he held the door for her to go first, Paige was surprised, but her hopes of being easily forgiven were dashed the moment she realized that he was locking the door behind him. She swallowed, feeling like she was trapped in the lair of a dangerous animal, with no way out and no way to tell when it would attack.

Without preamble, Gold said, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go, Paige."

So…you really mean it? You're not going to let me keep my job?

"Why should I? You've proven that you don't deserve the privilege of living on your own, so why would you need a job?" He glared at her, thinking of all he had done for her over the years.

Are you…will you stop being my guardian, too? Paige's hands were unsteady; if only he was that angry, she could try to get Mike to become her primary guardian. Mike was still upset with her, but she could simply tell him that she would stop sleeping with Mr. Gold. The pawnbroker would have no reason to continue visiting her if he was no longer her guardian.

A slow, evil smile spread across Gold's face. "I wouldn't dream of leaving you in the lurch, you poor dear. What ever would you do without me?" His smile deepened at the dismay Paige couldn't keep from her face. "And besides, that's exactly what you want, isn't it?"

Paige's face became stony and determined. What's your price?

"For your complete freedom from me?" He chuckled. "I'm afraid, my dear, that no price could ever cover that. The only way you can earn your complete freedom is to fulfill your end of the bargain we made in another life." And in case she hadn't made the connection, he added, "And you can hardly manage that under my roof, dove."

You can't just fire me. Paige's mouth was pressed in a thin line, her eyes grim. According to our deal, you cannot speak any ill of me.

"Oh, I hardly need to resort to that, Paige." His smile was sinister. "All I have to do is inform the council that my poor little shop just isn't making enough overhead to support a full-time employee. I can tell the mayor and all those other sops that I do hate to have to do this to you." His voice took on a tone of mocking concern and sadness. "Ah, the poor dear, she deserves so much better than this." He dropped back into his normal voice. "I can lay you off while lamenting the fact, and only praising you further. I can just as easily make it my fault that you'll be forced to give up your freedom."

Slow tears started down Paige's face. She remembered the nightmare she'd had last night, and her resolution to do whatever was necessary to keep that freedom. What do you want?

Gold's face was triumphant. "First of all, I will expect that our, ah, benefits, if you will, shall continue. You understand what I mean, right Paige?"

Yeah, I get you. You want me to keep being your whore. Paige was angry now, although from the moment he had starting hinting that she could make a deal to keep the status quo, she had expected something like this.

He gave a slight smirk at the term; after all, whores did get paid, and he always gave her something or did something nice for her every time he had his way with her. "Good. And I want a bit more from you. I want you to be more open to…alternative ideas."

I will not make an agreement without knowing exactly what I'm getting myself into.

"First of all, that exquisite talent you have with your mouth. I'll expect that more often." He smirked as Paige grimaced; he knew she had only done that to get her way. He had been surprised that first time; he thought Paige would have realized that he always attended open council sessions. But then again, she rarely worked on Thursdays, when the meetings were held, and she had been so desperate that she hadn't stopped to think before finding a means to get what she wanted. Of course, his own little deflection when he implied that he wouldn't change his hours for her sake had had its place in her decision.

He continued, "The other thing I'm really interested in is not having to do all the work myself. At least, not all the time. That's rather hard on my poor leg, you know."

Meaning?

"I want to watch you move above me, Paige. I want to see you on top." He had tried to get her to do it before, but no matter how he tried it, as soon as he'd gotten her atop him, she either went still or tried to climb off. But now he had her right where he wanted her; if she didn't agree to this, she would lose the thing she wanted most.

Paige blushed. The thought of willingly doing that, of her controlling the pace and the motion – it just seemed so…dirty. But that was only part of her blush; there was a tiny voice in the back of her head that was wondering how good it might feel to be in control like that. She shook her head in a motion that looked more like a shudder, trying to dislodge that mutinous thought. She didn't want to do this, but what other choice did she have? If those are the only stipulations you have for this part, I will agree. But since this is only a side benefit and not what you really want out of this deal, I'll want a concession or two of my own.

Gold was a little surprised by her perceptiveness, but she was a truly unique young woman. He smiled as he said, "Well, that depends on your…concessions."

She took a deep breath, embarrassed to even ask for this first one. First of all, I expect all the foreplay to continue. Her face was bright red, but she feared that if she didn't make this demand, he would simply take his pleasure of her and be done with it. She might as well get her own pleasure out of it if she was going to have to continue to let him touch her. In defending Gold to Emma and Mike, Paige had begun to realize that she actually did like the pleasure he gave her, once her body took over and made her mind stop fighting.

Mr. Gold's smirk deepened; he was enjoying her obvious embarrassment. "That won't be a problem."

I also ask that you continue to refrain from leaving any marks on me. It would be difficult to explain them to anyone who might ask, especially since I'm not sure Mike and I can make up from this fight. Paige's hand moved slightly, subconsciously, toward the wound on her right breast, where he had bitten her last night. Gold smirked; he could tell that she thought he had lost control. She didn't realize that he had coldly chosen rage over practicality. He supposed she hadn't noticed how the rage had disappeared the instant she'd acted out of character. His rage was an old friend by now, and it would take a lot more than last night's events for it to take control of him.

"Also agreed," he said, somewhat reluctantly. He understood her point, but pain could be so very enjoyable. "Anything else, dove?"

Well, this is probably an obvious one, especially considering the reasoning behind the last one, but this needs to continue to be kept as secret as possible.

"You're right, Paige, that one is pretty obvious. But yes, I agree to it."

Alright then, we're done with the side benefits. So what is it you really want, Mr. Gold? Paige's hands were shaking; she couldn't imagine what this deal would consist of.

"There may come a time when I will need your assistance. It may be in this world, it may be in the one we left, should we ever return there. But you will do everything in your power to assist me, or to assist those who may be trying to help me, regardless of whether or not our previous deal is concluded, and, of course, regardless of the outcome of that deal if it has been concluded."

I would like to be given the right to choose if that assistance is acceptable to me. Paige's mouth was set in a grim line.

Gold smirked; this young woman certainly was perceptive. "Very well, you may have that choice, but if you are unable to assist me, or if you choose not to, you will owe me."

What will I owe you?

"Oh, I don't know just now. Let's just say you'll owe me a favor."

No. I will not negotiate for some unnamed favor. At least set some kind of limits on that favor.

"Very well," he frowned. Perceptive, and also difficult. He had certainly chosen a headstrong girl for this. "I won't ask for anything too big, like your soul or any of your children." After her outburst yesterday, he rather suspected she would rather break her deal to save her brothers than give him any child she bore, even the one he had fathered. "Let's say…shelter, when I need it. Sustenance. A place where I can be safe for a time, should I need it, or at least a place where I can find what supplies I might need."

Paige thought for a moment. This "favor" was only if she was unable to render other assistance to him. As long as offering that sustenance does not impoverish my kingdom beyond what I can repair within a few years, assuming that you collect this debt in the world that was. And the 'supplies' must meet with my approval. I will not allow you to carry off children or peoples' souls or shadows, or anything other unsavory things required for your dark magics. When I say supplies, I mean food, water, clothing, that kind of thing. I will not fund your evil endeavors. And the shelter will be freely given as long as it does not put my kingdom, my people, or my self in danger. Also, that shelter cannot last for more than a year. She did not realize it, but as she made her case, Paige looked as confident and capable as Princess Eliza. She had always felt that, as Paige Cygnus, she measured up very poorly against her former self, but right now she was every inch the Crown Princess.

Mr. Gold frowned. He didn't like how good she was at this. Deals were supposed to be his forte. But then again, she might not have worked for his purposes if she were not a stubborn and determined young woman. "Very well," he said, "it's a deal."

So how does it work in this world? Simply our word to each other? Or do you have some sort of contract for me to sign?

"Not exactly, Paige. We will have to…consummate our deal," he said, smirking. This step wasn't precisely necessary. There were other ways to do it, but this was a very enjoyable way of sealing a deal.

Does that mean what I think it means?

He simply eyed her body, letting his desire show. "I'll even pay you for the hour you didn't work, since that was my fault for not being here." He made a gesture of dismissal. He should just have time for this before opening the shop. "I'll just need a moment to finish something up, but you go on upstairs, Paige. I'll expect you to be ready for me." His leer was even more evil and possessive than usual. She swallowed, but headed for the steps.


Upon returning to the Dark Castle, Rumpelstiltskin wanted to immediately look up the spell he needed, but there was a sparrow hopping about anxiously, a message tied to its leg. He read the tiny note and smirked. It would be fun to show these two just how foolish they truly were, so he put the grimiore on an elegantly carved wooden bookstand before heading out again.


"Will you please stop pacing? You're giving me a headache," said one young man to the other. The one who spoke was lounging casually on the window seat.

"Oh, well, I'm so sorry if I'm too common for your tastes, my prince," snapped the other. Both appeared to be young men, but the snappish one's voice was of a rather higher pitch than was usual for a man in his twenties. Another oddity was their clothing; the one who claimed to be common was dressed very well, in an almost royal manner, while the one who had been called prince was dressed as a poor farmer.

The young men looked nearly identical. Anyone who saw them together would have taken them for twins, for they were the same age, down to the very day.

"Oh, stuff it, Norah," said the farmer.

Looking around in almost a panic, the princely one hissed, "Don't call me that, Robert! Someone could hear you!"

"What, can you not control your servants well enough to ensure privacy when you want it?" Robert pronounced it "prih-vacy" instead of "pry-vacy." "I suppose privilege isn't everything you thought it would be, is it?" he asked smugly.

"Get off your high horse, Robert." Norah was sneering at him. He had no room to be so condescending to her. "After all of your grand dreams of working the land and feeling the soil, 'making something grow, something truly useful'? You want this as much as I do – nay, more."

Robert was tense, partly with anger at her for daring to say such things to him, but also from the irritation of knowing that she was right. He missed his privileged life. From what he had heard, his father had nearly enough support to take the throne and become the first king in seventy-two years. And when that happened, Robert would truly be a prince. His father's supporters called him such already, and although he couldn't care less about ruling a kingdom, 'King Robert' had an awfully nice ring to it.

"I think we've both learned our lesson here," Robert said angrily.

"And what lesson is that?" Norah was beginning to wish she had never met this spoiled-brat prince, but she was certain that, by the end of the day, she would be back on her farm, where she belonged.

"We should have been grateful for what we had, instead of giving it away on a whim." Robert crossed his arms over his chest and stared moodily out the window.

Norah sighed. "After all the times you ran away from your precious prince-hood? You told me you had been trying to escape since you were eight. That hardly sounds like a whim to me." She hated that he could make her so angry and then make her feel sorry for him, all in a span of a few short moments. He hadn't been this temperamental when they first met, but in the time she'd spent masquerading as Robert, she had gathered that he had not entirely been himself while they were together at the farm.

"Well, I thought I wanted out," he said, defensively.

Not wanting to argue this with him, Norah sighed and sat on a nearby chair. "And I thought I wanted out of my own life." In truth, there were parts of being a prince that she enjoyed very much. But somehow, even after all the times she had felt so dissatisfied with her small, struggling farm, after all the times she had wept from the ache for something different, something better, all she could think of now was how much she missed the ramshackle farmhouse. Even those early-morning chores she had so despised seemed almost welcome. Well, maybe not that, but she felt she wouldn't mind them quite as much anymore.

"By the way," Robert said gruffly, "I've, ah, built up your reputation a bit. Your hired hands were starting to think you were…well, more interested in men than women."

Norah was more interested in men, but since her parents had died, she had been dressing as a boy so that she would be allowed to keep the farm and run it, and hire the help she needed to keep the farm going. They thought her name was Norman. She had always thought she was careful not to let her feminine side show, though.

"What do you mean, Robert?" When he blushed and hunched his shoulders, she asked, "What have you done?" Norah knew something unpleasant was coming.

"I…may have, um… entertained, a few young women… while I was on the farm." He hadn't originally intended to do anything about the first young woman who approached him, but she had been persistent. She had taken notice of which nights he accompanied the farm-hands to the pub for a few beers, and she was always there.

One night, the other young men had left, but Robert was just beginning to miss his easy life, so he stayed for another pint. One more had turned into four more, and the next thing he knew, there she was, batting those pretty brown eyes at him, whispering her name in his ear. For the life of him, he couldn't remember it now, but that night he had cried it out to her in the throes of their passion. When he woke the next morning, she was gone, leaving him with only an aching head and a green ribbon that had fallen under the bed. No one in town seemed to know her, but a traveling merchant had left town quite early that morning, they said. He had sprained his leg rather badly some weeks before, so he had stayed at the inn until he was healed enough to travel comfortably. The merchant had had a young, pretty wife with brown eyes, who kept her hair tied back with green ribbons.

There had been other women he'd dallied with. After that first time, he tried to make sure they were women who would be passing through, because by now, he had begun to think about seeing if they could switch back. But with the glamours Rumpelstiltskin had put on them, Robert's own parents wouldn't even recognize him for who he truly was. But his reverie was broken when Norah, suddenly standing in front of the window seat, slapped him.

"How could you? I have to go back there now, and live there! What if one of those girls expects things from me that I cannot give?" She was both furious and brokenhearted. She had hoped to one day find her true love and drop her disguise. Her reason for switching back was that she had suddenly started thinking of one of her farm-hands a few months ago. She hadn't realized that she had feelings for him. Could he be her true love? Perhaps. But if he was, how could she reveal herself as a woman after what Robert had done? "In my house? In my bed? Or did you at least have the decency to go to the inn?"

Robert flushed even darker, but now part of it was anger. "You know the financial state of your farm, I couldn't afford an inn. Most of them were in your bed."

"Most of them? Most of them? How many did you defile my bed with?"

"All told, I had a baker's dozen over the past year and a half," Robert said, not sure if he was defending himself or bragging. "But only ten of them were in your bed. Elsa met me out in the fields when the barley and the full moon were high, Laurel practically attacked me in the hayloft on the pretense of bringing me water when the farm-hands all took sick at the same time, and little Mari – ah, she was a firecracker. Hair that shone like red gold in the sunset. She parked her wagon down by the creek." He smirked as he remembered Mari. "She liked to go skinny dipping in broad daylight, she did."

Another full-armed slap brought him up short. "You, sir, are a cad!" Norah's face was contorted with anger and embarrassment.

When she tried to slap him again, Robert caught her arm and held it, pressing the joint of his thumb into her wrist. "And what are you going to do about it? They were all passing through, none of them live in that gods-forsaken town."

"Stop it, you're hurting me," Norah cried, trying in vain to twist her wrist out of Robert's grasp. Robert held on, pressing even harder than before just to show that he could. He pulled her wrist down, which caused Norah to fall to her knees in front of the window seat, gasping in pain. Tears ran down her cheeks as she stared into Robert's eyes. The pleading, subservient expression on her face made him sneer. He let go, and she cradled her wrist to her chest, which she kept bound to hide her breasts.

"If I had known you were so cruel when I met you," she whispered, "I would never have let you into my house."

"I'm not cruel, I just refuse to be slapped for doing something any man would do." Robert was staring out the window again. "I didn't lie with them just to make your life more difficult. I was lonely, and they were willing. And as I said, I made sure they were all travelers."

"Do you think that matters? Most traveling peddlers and such have established routes. Some of them pass through every year, but others come every other year, or every third year, or fifth. What if one of them comes back claiming I've fathered her child?" Norah stood, still cradling her wrist. "And if Mari is who I think she is, I hope you weren't one of the unfortunate ones. The Mari I know has strawberry-blond hair, barely as tall as my shoulder; she sells herbs and poultices out of that wagon, and the mole on her behind is as well known to most men as her face. She has even convinced a few that were otherwise absolutely faithful, and some of her lovers have ended up with a rather uncomfortable side effect." When Robert tensed without answering, Norah added sweetly, "I believe they called it, 'fire down below,' or something of the sort? As I understand, it has no cure. Only the waxing and waning of the symptoms."

Robert swallowed. He wondered how long it took for symptoms to show, but he couldn't bring himself to ask.

At his worried look, Norah cheerfully said, "I once overheard the doctor telling one very worried husband that if no symptoms…flared within four to six weeks, he should consider himself a lucky man."

The relief on Robert's face nearly made Norah laugh, but she was careful to step out of reach before she spoke. "That will teach you not to go around sullying other peoples' reputations."

As Robert turned to deliver a scathing remark, a chillingly familiar voice lilted, "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything." Robert and Norah turned to Rumpelstiltskin, their hearts pounding.


Paige waited nervously in the apartment's small kitchen. Gold only used this apartment for extra storage and for its kitchen, so he wouldn't necessarily have to leave the pawnshop when he took his lunch hour. Paige had taken off her clothes and hung the shirt and pants neatly in the small, open coat closet near the apartment door, with her socks and shoes on the closet floor. Her bra lay on one of the shelves above the closet, but she had left her panties on in case he wanted to touch her through them today. Although as angry as he was, she wasn't sure that there would be much foreplay to this ordeal.

She bit her lower lip, fidgeting. When she heard him on the steps, she whirled to face the door, mentally trying to prepare herself.

When he opened the door and saw her standing there, the corner of his mouth twitched, but it was impossible to say if he meant it as a smirk or a frown. He removed his suit jacket and hung it next to Paige's clothes, then draped his tie on the shelf. His dress shirt was soon on a hanger as well, and then he reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, causing it to swing on its hanger.

Still wearing his pants and a thin tank top, he advanced on Paige. The object he held in his hand resembled a quill pen. "This is…a very special pen. It will make a mark that is similar to a tattoo. Although this isn't quite as permanent," he mused thoughtfully. "The mark I make will burn if I am in need of your assistance," he explained, "and the closer you get to me, the less it will burn. And vice versa, of course. That's how you can find me if I need you to. And as soon as your debt to me is paid, by whichever means that shall be, the mark will fade as if it had never been." He stood in front of Paige and held the pen ready. "I'm afraid it's going to hurt, dove," he said, smiling in a not-so-apologetic manner.

He poised the pen over her heart, and began to drag it across the soft flesh of her upper left breast. She had backed up against the kitchen table when he approached, so she grasped the edge of the table with both hands. Her breath hissed through her gritted teeth as she tried not flinch away from the pain. She didn't want to make him any angrier than he already was.

When he had finished, there was an image of a mask – a representation of the very mask he had worn when he first met Eliza. It was little more than a black outline and some of the scrolled details, also in black, inscribed on her flesh, so there were no gold tones to it, but it was easily recognizable to them both. Paige looked down at it; she would have to be careful of her tank tops. She didn't want to have to explain this "tattoo" to anyone, and some of her shirts might slip enough that people could get a glimpse.

Laying his pen aside, Mr. Gold took Paige's arms and folded them behind her, pushing her down on the table. He used her own body weight to pin her arms under her back. Then he took a good grip on her panties and ripped them, first over one hip, then the other. He yanked the torn panties out from under her and tossed them to the floor. He ripped the bandage off her right breast. The sight of the twin marks on her breasts excited him: the wound on her right breast where he had bitten her yesterday, and the angry marks around the "tattoo" he had just given her.

Paige had never seen him this violent before, except maybe when he took his payment in the world that was. He unzipped his pants, and she could see that he was hard and ready. He rubbed one finger against her opening before making rough circles over her sensitive nub. She squirmed; this was almost painful. He liked to get a little rough sometimes, but aside from that first time in the world-that-was, he'd never done it without at least a little tender foreplay first.

Moving his finger back down to her opening, he found what he wanted. She was just starting to get wet. Without warning, he shoved himself inside her. She tried to console herself with the thought that she had sworn to do whatever she must to keep what little freedom she had, but this was not a pleasant experience. Aside from the fact that he was thrusting so roughly, her back was starting to ache from having her arms pinned underneath her like this.

After a few minutes, Gold felt a twinge in his leg. It broke his rhythm for a moment, and having always wondered if it would help, he said, "Put your legs around me, Paige."

Her face had been turned to the side; she looked at him now, and he could see that she was intending to fight him on this. But whatever she saw in his face convinced her otherwise. She tried to adjust her position to wrap her legs around his hips, but the angle put far too much pressure on her already strained spine. When he saw what was wrong, Gold lifted Paige's hips so she could pull her arms out from under her. It was a shame, really; he'd been enjoying the idea of her being bound in some fashion. Perhaps if they tried it on a more yielding surface, like a bed, it would work better. He grinned wickedly, making a mental note to himself.

Once her arms were released, Paige had no difficulty getting her legs around him. This new position changed the angle slightly; he was able to thrust even deeper than before. With the first thrust he felt himself reach the end of her, hitting her cervix. He had only done that on one occasion, one of the rare times he had entered her from behind; usually, he preferred to watch the struggle on her face as she tried to fight the sensations. During the time he was reminded of now, he had tried not to go that deep, as he understood that most women found it uncomfortable to have their cervix bumped during sex. But he'd gotten too carried away to control himself, and Paige had turned out to be one of those few women who enjoy the feeling. Her orgasm that time had been more intense than any other.

Paige's eyes fluttered as any attempt at resistance came to an abrupt end. Gold said, "Oh, that's nice, Paige," as he felt her thigh muscles contract against him. She had given up so thoroughly that she was pumping her own hips, matching his every thrust. It wasn't long before he could sense the moment building in her. He pumped his hips faster, and it only took a few thrusts before her body was overwhelmed. He tried to hold his own climax off, but with the way her body was tightening around his, he couldn't last. He cried out as he gave one final thrust, feeling an odd sense of vertigo as his hot seed spilled inside her. He collapsed on top of her, panting for breath.

After a few moments had passed, he put his hands on the table on either side of Paige, lifting his upper body to look around. Even that small movement shifted his body against hers just enough to send another, smaller orgasm racing through Paige's body. Everything looked a little bit off, and after a moment, Mr. Gold realized why. His last thrust must have been more than the table's legs could handle. That sense of vertigo had been the table collapsing under them!

He pulled himself out of her and laid on his right side, facing her. He kept his upper body propped up. Paige's eyes were closed and she was still panting for breath as she basked in the afterglow, but when he spoke she opened her eyes. "I guess I was pretty rough on you, dove," he said. She looked around, and he smiled when he saw her realize that they were now on the floor. He trailed one finger between her legs, brushing that sensitive spot. She gasped nearly silently as yet another small orgasm shuddered through her. "But it looks like you enjoyed it," he said in a suggestive tone. He smirked to see Paige blush. It was so easy to embarrass her.

Mr. Gold laid an oddly gentle kiss on Paige's forehead. "Our deal is consummated, then." He was somewhat awkward in maneuvering himself back up. Fortunately, when the table collapsed, his cane, which had been propped against the table, had landed nearby. After wiping himself off and tucking everything back in, he zipped up his pants. After he had put his shirt, tie, and suit jacket back on, Gold turned to Paige. "I'll expect you downstairs, ready to work, before too much longer, Paige."


Later that morning, Gold had left Paige in the shop by herself to run a few errands. He walked up to the door of his house, and it was ajar. His good mood evaporated as he eased into the house, going straight for the gun he kept in a drawer near the door.


Rumpelstiltskin smirked. The hopeful looks on their faces! But they would find out soon enough.

"According to the message I received, 'tis something… desperate?" He smiled as he spoke, and it wasn't a very nice smile.

"We want to go back," Robert said.

As if he didn't know what the young man meant, Rumpelstiltskin repeated the end of Robert's statement as a question. "Go back?'

"Back to our lives. We want things to be the way they used to," Robert replied, trying not to show his anger.

"Please," Norah added, "we want to switch back."

Rumpelstiltskin gave a small laugh. It was true that the royal descendant of a union between a fairy and a human stood before him, but he had found another such. Of course, if it weren't for him, there might not have been another option. He was glad he had made those arrangements, because Eliza was far better suited to his purposes than this sniveling wretch.

"I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do for you in that regard," Rumpelstiltskin replied gaily.

"Please," Norah cried, falling to her knees at Rumpelstiltskin's feet and gripping the trailing ends of his vest.

Making irritated sounds, Rumpelstiltskin forcibly removed her hands. When he looked up again, Robert had also knelt, but in a more measured manner. He didn't like begging, but if it got him his comfortable life back, he would do it.

"I thought you were both so… unhappy. You wanted out, forever. That's what you told me before." Rumpelstiltskin turned his back on them as he casually paced toward the window.

"We were. We… thought we were," Robert said. His voice was choked with emotion. "But we were wrong."

"Well that's not my problem. You're going to have to learn to live with it, dearies." Rumpelstiltskin's smile was sinister.

"Please," Norah whispered, "just take off the glamours."

The impish little man laughed. "Those old things? Glamours fade after about six months or so, didn't you know?"

"You mean… we could have gone back ourselves after six months?" Norah's eyes were wide. They didn't need Rumpelstiltskin's help after all, they could simply switch back!

"Well, not exactly. There's a bit more to it than that, dearies." Rumpelstiltskin's mouth twisted into an amused smile.

"There always is with you," Robert muttered, barely able to keep the animosity out of his voice.

"Temper, temper, little man," the imp teased. "Or are you always this rude, even when you're wooking for hewp," he lisped mockingly.

Robert tensed, gritting his teeth. But it was Norah who spoke. "Please, Rumpelstiltskin, we'll pay any price. Just switch us back."

They were both still on their knees in supplication, so Rumpelstiltskin bent down to put his face right next to Norah's. "I'm afraid I can't do that, dearie. You see, you're already… switched. Back."

"What nonsense is this?" cried Robert, standing as if to confront Rumpelstiltskin directly. But before he could finish rising, he froze.

"Ah, ah, ah, dearie. One shouldn't attack one's guests. It's very rude, you know," said the sneering little man.

"How could we be switched back? What do you mean," cried Norah, not daring to try to stand. Robert was frozen in what looked like a very awkward and uncomfortable position.

Pretending surprise, Rumpelstiltskin put his hand to his chest, exclaiming, "I thought you knew! You were switched at birth." They gaped at him, dumfounded. "I tried to warn your mothers about this. But the woman who would be queen was desperate to give her husband a son for his heir."

"You mean," Norah started saying, her voice faint. She couldn't seem to finish that thought, so Rumpelstiltskin did it for her.

"That's right, dearie. You're the royalty here, not him." And she was a weak, pathetic princess. She didn't have the spirit for his needs. It was fortunate, indeed, that Eliza was a much better prospect. Perhaps in a few years' time, Norah would build some backbone, but he didn't want to wait for something that might not even come to pass. No, Eliza already had what he needed. And better still, she had found her true love, unlike the useless little girl in front of him.

"Impossible!" Robert shouted, still trapped halfway between standing and kneeling. "I'm a prince! I am! You cannot take that from me!"

"I've taken nothing more than I was owed, and I cannae take something from you if it was never yours to begin with. It was your mother, and hers," he replied, pointing to Norah. "They're the ones to blame. I told them they would regret it, but they dinnae listen to me. Now everything is lost for your little kingdom. Not that it was such a much to begin with," he said, giggling slightly.

"What do you mean, lost?" During the time she had spent disguised as Robert, she had come to feel a certain responsibility to this land. Now she understood why; it was her land.

Putting a hand by his mouth as if telling secrets, Rumpelstiltskin replied, "Once the word gets out, and believe me, dearies, it will, the man who would be king will lose his support." His hand came down as he made a shrugging sort of gesture. "Well, maybe not all of it, but enough to keep him from taking the throne. Your little kingdom is dying before it was even born. And there's nothing you can do about it."

Robert suddenly fell heavily to the floor. He couldn't believe that he had been born a poor farmer. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't.

"Fare thee well," Rumpelstiltskin mocked cheerfully, striding out the door as if he hadn't just destroyed their lives.


And Rumpelstiltskin was right. When the truth came out, most of the family's support melted away. Norah's true father, Felix, even attempted to placate the other factions by immediately betrothing the two. Norah was the blood heir, the true descendant of King Fiero's younger son, and thus had the best claim for the throne, but of course, a woman could not rule. It was preposterous, an abomination, like that ridiculous Blueberry Kingdom. Even though they had a proper king just now, his heir was a girl. Preposterous.

Robert had been raised all these years as the successor to what should have been Felix's throne. He had been groomed to take Felix's place as head of the family, so by betrothing Robert to Norah, Felix hoped to soothe the riled tempers.

He had not known of his wife's deception, and even so, their second child had not only been a girl, but complications had left his wife unable to have more children. Recently, she and their daughter – their youngest daughter, he had to remind himself – had retired to an old manor, where she could be away from the fighting; she had been sickly ever since birthing the girl. Felix wanted to confront his wife, but was afraid her health was too poor. He didn't want to cause her any harm, but still. She should have told him the truth so he could have tried to prepare for this. But given the circumstances, he wanted his family close. His wife wouldn't like it, but she would have to come back to the fortress that Felix was using as center of his campaign to take the throne.

But even the betrothal was not enough to keep his supporters happy. Most of them felt deceived, and it mattered not that he had been fooled as well. His family might never again have the chance to reclaim the throne that should have been rightfully theirs.


The next day, Paige headed over to the sheriff's office. Yesterday, Gold had come back from his errands and tersely told her to take the rest of the day off. When she'd hesitated, he yelled at her, so she had simply grabbed her things and ran. She had no idea what put him in such a foul mood.

Later that night, Mike had come to her door. She invited him in, but he stood on the porch while he gave her the message that Gold had just called, saying he'd been arrested. Paige had been shocked. She wondered what he could have possibly done that got him arrested. She might have texted him, but she doubted that prisoners were allowed to keep their cell phones on them.

As she walked, she saw Emma and Henry. They were laughing, and Emma was holding a cone of vanilla soft serve that she hadn't touched. They were also walking toward the sheriff's office, so Paige ran a little bit to catch up with them.

"Hey, Paige," Henry said, smiling widely at his new friend. "What's up?"

Turning to Emma, Paige signed.

"She says she's on her way to visit Mr. Gold." Emma frowned slightly. She still wasn't too sure about the… relationship, for lack of a better term, between Paige and Gold.

"Oh, we're bringing him ice cream!" Henry could sense that something wasn't quite right between Emma and Paige, but he hoped that if he pretended not to notice, it would go away.

It's starting to drip, Paige signed to Emma.

"Yeah, well I'm not going to lick it," the sheriff retorted. She didn't want her mouth on something Gold was going to put his mouth on. Ew.

"We shouldn't let it drip, though," said Henry. Even though Emma hadn't translated Paige's comment, Emma's response had made it pretty clear what the mute girl had meant. "Hey, Paige didn't get any ice cream, maybe she wouldn't mind!"

With a small, nearly silent snort of breath that could have been a laugh, Paige signed, Why not?

So Emma handed the cone over, saying, "It's all yours."


When they entered the sheriff's office, they all felt tension in the air, although Emma and Henry knew there was a lot less of it than there had been. Paige walked over to the cell as Regina said, "Let's go, Henry." She sounded pretty satisfied; Paige wondered if she even wanted to know what had just happened in here. But she just handed the ice cream through the bars so she could sign, I caught up with Emma and Henry on their way back, and they were just letting it drip, so I licked it for you. I…hope you don't mind.

"Not at all, Paige." His voice was mild and free of any sexual connotations, but his eyes were a different matter. Paige felt herself blushing.

Is there…anything you need while you're in here? Paige could see how much he hated being in there, and she felt sorry for him.

His voice soft so Emma, at her desk, wouldn't overhear, he said, "Actually, something was recently…returned to me. If you can get my keys from Miss Swann, I'd like you to take it back to my house for me."

While Gold finished his ice cream, Paige went to ask about his keys. Since he was, after all, Paige's guardian, Emma decided to allow it. When Paige returned to the cell with the keys in her hand, Gold stood where Emma wouldn't be able to see him hand the chipped cup out to Paige. In even softer tones than before, he told her exactly where to put the cup. It wasn't where the cup ultimately belonged, but he wasn't about to give Paige the keys to that cabinet.


A few notes:

This chapter takes place during the episode "Skin Deep."

And yes, that was another deliberate Ursula quote. Her lines just lend themselves so well to Rumpelstiltskin, don't you think?

The term "Grimoire" is derived from the word "Grammar," which describes a set of symbols and explains how to combine them to create well-formed sentences. A Grimoire, however, describes magical symbols and the ways to combine them properly. It can also be called a "Book of Shadows." (check my profile for a link to a site that sells blank grimoires; it is not only the place where I got this description, but the link will take you directly to the very grimoire I describe as Maleficent's.)

Maleficent's grimoire is very different from Miranda and Lilura's family spell book, which is nothing more than a list of spells. For the purposes of my story, putting a spell into a grimoire requires the sorcerer or sorceress to put a small part of their magic into the book as well, which makes later uses of that spell easier, whereas anyone using a spell out of Lilura's spell book has to put out the full magical effort every single time they wish to cast a spell. Back to the grimoire; the more spells one puts into the Book of Shadows, the more of one's own magic is put into it. As long as the grimoire belongs to the one who made it, that person can draw on the magic held in the book. If it is stolen or, in a more unusual turn of events, given away as it is in my story, then the owner, Maleficent in this case, loses a portion of her power. (The reason I came up with this idea is that Maleficent is pretty much the most powerful Disney villain of all time, and I found it quite sad that Regina was able to beat her so very easily. Yes, I know Regina went for a low blow and tried to attack Maleficent's pet, but still… So I came up with a reason why Maleficent is less powerful than we are accustomed to seeing her.)

Now, this power can be used by whomever owns the grimoire, but it will not work as well for a stranger as it would for its true owner. However, the new owner now has free access to the spells, and can find their own way to use or adapt those spells, which is what Rumpelstiltskin was really after…

With Robert and Norah, I am bringing in the story of "The Prince and the Pauper." Strictly speaking, that's not a fairy tale, but as there are now many versions of this tale, including a Disney version featuring Mickey Mouse, I decided to add my own version to my story. I do not own any rights to Mark Twain's original novel, I am simply putting my own twist on the story and fitting it into ABC's Once Upon a Time (to which I also do not own any rights.)

Also, I want to make it very clear that Mr. Gold did not lie to Paige in Chapter Five. When she asked if he would open late so they could attend the open council session, he said, "After due consideration, I'm afraid not. I can't just change my hours on a whim." But the truth is, he always attends council meetings, including the open sessions, so while it is not part of his posted hours, it is common knowledge that he opens his shop late so he can attend them. For the purposes of my story, these meetings happen on Thursdays, and Paige has off on Thursdays, so she wouldn't know that he would not be changing his hours in the slightest. To "open late" for him on a day when one of these council meetings is held would mean that he did not open shortly after the end of the meeting. He simply used her lack of knowledge because he wanted to find out how far she was willing to go.

I hope you've enjoyed the latest installment!

Please please please review and let me know!