Duckling to Swan: A Duckling No More
Rumpelstiltskin normally hated being sent away by the power of his dagger. But for once he found himself relishing in the command. Currently he used his Seven League Boots to travel instead of merely transporting himself instantly to his destination in a puff of magical smoke.
When Snow White had called him to her chambers, the morning after Emma's victory feast against the dragon, he'd known what was coming. She'd reprimanded him for his effrontery and impudence to Queen Ella and Prince Gaston, before commanding him to check the outer provinces of the kingdom. It was a senseless errand. There hadn't been a threat to the House of White since Regina and King George had been dealt with.
Snow White was sending him away as a form of punishment, and they both knew it. The Dark One had taken his punishment without protest, simply flopping into a mocking bow and spitting out a tittery: 'as you wish, dearie'. Neither had said another word on the subject. And off he'd gone, before the morning sun had fully bathed the White Castle. Without a moment to lose, Rumpelstiltskin had donned his cowl and peasant's cloak and taken off with his magical boots.
In the back of his mind, he knew that part of his willingness to leave so early was due to the unexpected moment he'd had with Emma. If the truth were to be known, the whole affair had left him feeling small and frightened.
Rumpelstiltskin had been unable to fathom what had gotten into him. When he had kissed her, it had been a purely emotional impulse. He hadn't slept in two days. He'd been worried for Emma during her magical trial, and it had been the anniversary of Bae's death. His mind hadn't been his own… and yet, he knew that his impulse had come from somewhere. Nothing was without a price, and no reaction came without an action before it. . .
He cared for his little Swan Princess, there was no denying that. She'd always held a special place in his cole-blackened heart, ever since he'd first held her as a babe and heard her name. He'd protected her, taught her the art of magic, and been the childhood friend and playmate she had been lacking- due to her tomboy nature and high pedigree. . . But deep down, when he had watched her face the fire drake with her golden curls flying in the wind, and her green eyes bright with confidence, he'd known the truth. . . The past was gone. And with it, his precious little duckling.
She was still Emma. The braven lass whose temper and obstancy were almost as legendary as his wickedness. . . But she also wasn't. Gone were the days of baby fat and childish fears. She was almost eighteen now, but the number meant little.
No. It wasn't her age.
It was her.
She had grown up. Changed. And so had he.
He couldn't pin-point exactly when it had happened. But he knew that he viewed her differently.
It would have been easier to blame it all on lechery and move on, but that wasn't it either. He was the Dark One after all. A woman's curves had little power over him after more than 300 years of a cursed existence. No. Physicality wasn't the answer, nor the cause.
Rumpelstiltskin wished it was something as simple as lust. If that was the case, he could swallow a potion or simply hex himself out of it.
But it wasn't lust. It was something deeper and far more precious.
His duckling challenged him in ways that no one else ever had. She forced him to be uncomfortable, to show his true colors without prompting. She also had the ability to surprise him, which very few had ever been capable of.
Emma Swan was his greatest responsibility and weakness, he realized. And she had been since the moment he'd become her guardian.
Perhaps his bond with her was in apprehension for the day when she would inherit his dagger and become queen. . . But he very much doubted it.
He couldn't label his relationship with the wee spitfire, and it irked him. There was no cure to whip up, no spell to work. And he still couldn't understand all that he was feeling. Rumpelstiltskin was out of his depth. And he was never out of his depth.
The imp currently strode through the kingdom, scouting every corner of the land with his all-seeing grayish-gold eyes. He was particularly thorough, granting himself time to deliberate and mull his considerations over and over again. But the Seven League Boots took him miles with each step, and he soon found himself at the border fiefdom. He'd been gone two full days now, neither eating or sleeping, as he walked the length of the kingdom. There had been no threats, save for the golden haired one that taunted him back at the castle.
But with Snow's request met and no further excuses, Rumpelstiltskin found himself turning back and striding homeward at full-tilt. Being so far away from his dagger often gave him a violent headache, so he found his pace was much faster returning than going.
The countryside whizzed by him, but he saw none of it. The small fiefdoms and villages were blurs to his eagle vision, and the great estates of the land were no more engaging than a snail beneath his shoe.
Finally, as he spotted the massive palace in the distance, he allowed himself to view his surroundings. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was at its zenith. Summer was always quite humid in these parts, but luckily the Dark One never had an issue with severe hot or cold temperatures.
But it wasn't the weather that caught Rumpelstiltskin's attention, as he drew ever closer to the glistening White Castle on the edge of the lake. . . It was the massive stands just outside the palace gates, filled to the brim with spectators that gave him pause. He could hear their yells and applause from far off. Whatever the masses were watching, it was obviously engaging.
When he was just past the farthest stand, Rumpelstiltskin took off his magical boots and continued at a normal pace, curiosity getting the better of him.
Upon closer inspection, it was clear that they were jousting stands, full of common folk and royalty alike. . . But what joust would cause such a thoroughfare?
Rounding the far corner of the massive stand of people, the Dark one watched the event unfold, hidden from prying eyes by the depth of his cloak and hood. It only took him a second to realize what he was seeing.
Emma stood in all her glory in the center of the stands for all to see. She was an awe-inspiring sight- with her freshly polished armor and detailed warriors braid plaited down her back. She held a gleaming sword in hand, and faced down one of the White Knights with a cocky grin.
Of course. Today must be Emma's final trial to become a knight.
Rumpelstiltskin blinked. Had he really been gone that long? Apparently he had. For Emma was currently beating her opponent with gusto, while the crowd cheered at great length.
Rumpelstiltskin could see Snow White and Charming in the Royal Box, accompanied by Queen Ella. Charming watched Emma fight with a delighted eagerness that the Dark One found himself mirroring. While Snow smiled with motherly pride and clapped joyfully when Emma beat the knight.
After that the event was a flash, but Rumpelstiltskin witnessed it all. He stood in the shadows of the stands, unable to hold back the grin that captured his lips, as Emma beat every knight that challenged her. She grew more sweaty, dusty, and tired with each match, but her confidence and skill couldn't be shaken. She fought with a ferocity and grace that was impossible to match. She would slam her sword like the finest berserker, and then dodge away with the poise of a dancer. It came from all her magical training and discipline, or so Rumpelstiltskin told himself.
The Dark One never openly cheered when Emma won. No need to distract her from her task. But he couldn't help his silent reactions. His strange eyes danced with her movements and his grin forever grew. He couldn't help it. Not when she was doing so well. She was handing the competition their arses on a plate. Though it was hardly a surprise. Emma had learned from the best that the Enchanted Forest had to offer.
Finally, as the last contestant dropped to his knees, Rumpelstiltskin allowed himself to clap. Emma- grungy from head to toe- waved her sword up in the air, making the crowd go wild. Her face glowed with exertion but her triumph was palpable. . . Until someone else stalked into the center of the fighters ring.
Rumpelstiltskin frowned, instantly recognizing the newcomer with the dark hair and pompous gaze. . . It would seem that Prince Gaston wished to challenge his betrothed to combat as well.
With one look at Emma's expression, it was clear that Gaston would live to regret his folly.
"You aren't one of my father's knights," Emma called out, loud enough for all to hear.
"Will you only fight those of your father's court?" Gaston argued, his deep voice ringing out, taunting the woman that stood opposite him. "And here I thought you were meant to be showing off your prowess and bravery!"
"I have nothing more to prove," Emma said with a smirk. "I defeated all those who were meant to test my claim to knightship."
Gaston sneered and shook his head. "You are no knight."
Rumpelstiltskin instantly felt the dark magic wrathfully forming on his fingertips, but before he could hurl it at the irksome prince, Emma had beat him to it. Her expression smoothed into one of annoyance, before she angled her sword and drew into her fighting stance.
"Then from one non-knight to another: hit me with your best shot."
Gaston rolled his eyes, drawing his own weapon with purpose. It was clear from his posture that he didn't expect a real fight. His second mistake, in a long list that would surely follow. One might have pitied the fool, if he hadn't called the storm down upon himself. Simpering imbecile that he was.
Emma bent her neck from side to side, cracking it audibly; a taunt if ever there was one. The Dark One had to quell the giggle that threatened to erupt, when the dirt-caked Princess smirked. She had no fear of Gaston, despite his advantage of being fresh. She'd been fighting for an hour, while he'd been resting and watching. In truth, Gaston held the trump cards. But Emma didn't falter. She never would. And the Dark One found himself proud beyond measure when she held her ground and stood stock still.
His duckling was smart. She knew that Gaston had an edge, and instead of rushing in like usual, she was hanging back. She was holding out to see what he would do. . . She was strategizing. Waiting. Her forest green eyes were sharp with concentration, as she gauged Gaston's stance and movement. She allowed him to start the fight, though her gaze promised to finish it.
When Gaston grew tired of waiting, he lunged. Emma smacked his blade away with a flamboyancy that made the spectators laugh, before she gestured for Gaston to try again. Some might have called her cocky, but only those who didn't know her. Emma didn't brag. Oh no. She had no need to.
Gaston came at her harder now, slashing with a anger that showed how offended he was at the lackluster beginning. Now, Emma didn't have time to pose or gesture- her face twisted with exhilaration as she fully engrossed herself in the duel, parrying every hit Gaston administered.
Her arms began to shake from the strength of Gaston's hits. There was no doubt he was strong, and she was close to spent. But still, the Swan Princess kept pace, allowing the beating.
Then, they were caught in a blade lock and Gaston shouldered Emma to her knees. Sweat dripped down her brow, as her knees hit the ground, hard. She didn't cry out, but it was clear she was in pain.
Before he realized what he was doing, Rumpelstiltskin was reaching out with his magic. He allowed his mental voice to carry and connect with Emma's mind, surprising himself with his intensity.
"Get up, dearie. The ground doesn't suit you~!"
"...Rum? You're here?" Her relief was palpable as she answered back, still physically locked with Gaston.
The Dark One smiled behind the shade of his cloak. "I wouldn't have missed it, duckling. . . Now, I hope you are done indulging this wee wittle princey? It would be a pity to draw out his defeat, don't ya think?"
On the battlefield, Emma beamed. "Hell yes!"
Rumpelstiltskin giggled and clapped his hands together. "Then get up and show him what the product of True Love can. do." His voice had grown hushed as he spoke in her mind, allowing his affection to bleed into the tone, until he withdrew and waited.
Emma's arms shook terribly, but past the strain her green eyes now shone with something akin to peace. And as the crowds watched with bated breath, the Princess gave a great cry and pushed back! She used all of her shoulder and leg muscles as she pushed upward and slowly got to her feet. Gaston looked shocked and then furious, but he didn't have time to trap her again. Emma swirled away from his blade, and charged him.
Before, she had blocked Gaston's hits, biding her time. Now, she administered a barrage of attacks, faster than most could follow with their eyes. She was alight with willpower and what appeared to be joy. Gaston was on defense now, barely managing to block all that Emma threw his way. He staggered as she stabbed his armored chest with the tip of her sword five times in quick succession. The stabs weren't hard enough to hurt him; just enough to throw him completely off balance.
Gaston fought to remain steady, but the five-point hit had effectively set his stance off. With no hesitation, Emma slammed his blade away with her own, before bringing her foot up to plant in his chest. The power behind the kick sent Gaston to the ground, and before he could recover, she had her sword planted at the side of his neck- glowing with her victory.
For a long moment, there was silence. But then, as if awoken from slumber, the crowd broke out into great booming cheers. It was deafening, but the Dark One didn't have trouble hearing the Princess's words to Gaston, as she offered him her free hand. "Thanks for the match."
Gaston got up, ignoring her helping hand. He turned and walked from the battlefield without a word, but it was clear he was seething. Good, Rumpelstiltskin thought. Let the man-child mourn his loss. It had been well earned. Perhaps he'd learn some humility for his trouble, though Rumple very much doubted such a change of heart.
The Dark One's thoughts shifted from the wittle princeling, and once more turned to Emma. He remained in the shadows of the stands watching.
She had sheathed her sword, and now once more had collapsed to her knees. Tears of elation and exhaustion marred her dirt smeared face, but Rumple could say for certain that she'd never looked more lovely. Power and pure light seemed to explode from her aura, as the crowd hailed her with thunderous glee.
In that moment, Rumpelstiltskin wanted nothing more than to lead the onlookers in their chants. He would have lifted her high with his magic, so that she could bask in the words of adoration from the hundreds who had witnessed her prowess. But he didn't.
This was her moment. And she was doing just fine basking all by herself.
Rumpelstiltskin allowed himself another minute to look at Emma, as she lifted her shaking arms up in a victory pose and yelled a final battle cry. A swordswoman for the ages, as well as a sorceress of great skill and compassion. She would surely be a Monarch for the storybooks.
The Dark One disappeared then, back to his chambers in the West Wing. He left the incredible scene behind him, fading in his maroon colored smoke with resolution. Emma would always be his princess, but she was a duckling no more.
A/N: I had a lot of fun with this chapter, not only because of Rumple's inner thoughts, but the fact that Emma got to whoop Gaston. Hahahah! I'd almost feel bad if he wasn't a arse. I hope y'all were able to enjoy this chapter. I've already started on the next one so hopefully the wait won't be too long.
Happy Holidays, guy! See you next chapter!
~Lyn