He couldn't remember the last time that he'd touched someone who wanted to be touched. He couldn't remember the last time someone had taken it from him without wanting to pull away. He couldn't remember the last time he had wanted to touch someone and reveled in the fact that he felt it from his fingertips down to his toes. It was possible, he realized, that he might not ever have experienced such a thing. Milah had never truly wanted anything he'd had to offer for her, the women he'd met and had looked on him with favor since seeing the Dark One only had eyes for his power. The woman from the village, what was her name, Margene? Margie? Well, whoever she was, she was the only one that had ever come close, but he remembered their encounters then being far more about satisfying their own pleasures rather than one another. But Cora…
Cora was different. A different experience, a different breed of woman he'd met all together. It had been so long since he'd touched another being, another person who wanted it that he couldn't stop himself from running his hands everywhere he could think to, just to see how far she would let him go. He matched his hands with her own as she spun, guided them along arm and elbow and shoulder. He let his fingers linger on the exposed skin of her back and then finally did what he had been dying to do since he'd sat down next to her. He pressed his lips to her. He laid a gentle kiss along the curve of her neck as he traced his hands down and finally laid them at her waist, then continued making a path up along her neck and tracing up her jawline, and just below her ear.
When she stood up, it was a shock. He felt his body tense in preparation for a slap or a scold or an order to leave now that she knew what she was doing. But nothing came. She simply walked slowly over to one of the boards where the straw was laid out, retrieved a few more bundles, then walked back over to them to lay at their feet. She glanced up at him only once before sitting back down between his legs and shifting her weight so that she was even closer than she had been before she stood up. She made him ache in places he hadn't ached in a long time.
"Don't stop now, my dear," she whispered over her shoulder. "We've got a long way to go tonight."
A grin stretched across his face as she began to spin the wheel again, and he put his hands back to her waist and continued to bury his face in her neck.
She was feisty, as he'd guessed, and a quick learner. By the time the sun rose, she had not spun all the straw to gold, but she had turned enough of it that the King would be an arrogant fool to execute her. There was easily enough gold in this room to get the Kingdom out of debt and Cora out of the mill. It was impressive. It was as though her magic had been suppressed so long now that it was free, it poured out of her. And he fed off of it, registering how much more came from her than her mother and wondering how much more her own daughter would be capable of. And all the while he wondered how much more Cora would be capable of if they kept at their work.
But as the dawn began to lighten the chamber and the sky outside, he acknowledged that those were questions he would have to wait another time to get answers to. As much as it killed him to do it, by mornings light, he kissed her neck once more and rose.
"You're going?" she questioned as the wheel stopped and silence filled the tower. Oh, it wasn't by choice that he was leaving, but rather necessity. Sitting close to her made it difficult enough to leave her be and not take her back this very moment to his own castle to satisfy the need she'd awakened in him. But he'd been working on this plan to get back to his son for nearly a century, he couldn't take his eyes off that prize now just because staring at her breasts made him giddy.
"My services are no longer required," he explained turning back to her. "The deal was to teach you to spin straw into gold to spare your life. You now know how to spin straw to gold; your life will be spared. My job is done."
"But it's only just begun, don't you see?" she asked as she rose from her seat and moved toward him. "This power, this gift you've given me…you said there was more to it. Did you mean that?"
She was a tricky one. After spending the night glued to his chest he figured space would seem like a gift, but now she stood toe to toe with him again, her hands tracing up his chest until they were slung around the back of his neck and he felt it an unquestionable need to put his own hands over her waist and draw her even closer. Her eyes were sleepy, her lids were heavy, and he had the sense that if he urged her down into a pile of hay, she wouldn't fight it, but those same eyes were also serious and searching. They were waiting. Waiting for an answer to the question she'd posed. It was, he realized as she moved against him, a very easy answer.
"What is inside of you is powerful indeed," he stated honestly, feeling truly captivated for the first time in his life. "And you are capable of so much more than you've accomplished tonight."
"Then don't go," she suggested tightening her grip. "Teach me more. Teach me all you know."
He chuckled at such a request. It was made with as much seriousness as a Queen suggesting a new tax plan, not with the frivolity of so many girls he'd met over the years. She wasn't a child. She was a woman, smart and tenacious, but he couldn't teach her everything he knew. He had thousands of years worth of combined knowledge in his head, a mortal would never master it, and a mortal in her position had no need.
He pulled her closer, letting his fingers reach up again to touch the skin on her back. Toe to toe and now they were nearly nose to nose.
"You'll have no need for magic once you've wed your prince."
She let out a small laugh and rolled her eyes as if he'd only stated absurdity. "I'll have every need. I'm only a miller's daughter, remember. And since my life has been spared, I'm about to be entrusted to an entire Kingdom…a little magic might be exactly what I need…"
He wasn't sure who gave in first, only that it was a glorious question to wonder who wanted who more. Nonetheless he found that the little space there was between them suddenly vanished as Cora finally moved forward to match her mouth against his own. He had to adjust his weight for the extra push her body gave against his own, but he was quite pleased that all it really forced him to do was gather her up even closer, hold her tighter. To think he'd spent the night wondering about the last time he'd been touched; the last time he'd been kissed had been forever! But to be kissed by someone who seemed to desire him, by someone that he desired back and had every urge to claim in a way he never had was unfamiliar and thrilling, exotic in its own way. He could barely breathe, they could barely breath it seemed as all manner of rope and gold was forgotten and he let his hand drift down over her back to-
Behind them! Outside the door, there was a loud slam like a door being forced open. It forced them to break their kiss and stare at the door expectantly as footsteps suddenly sounded in the distance.
"I will still need you after this is done, dear Rumple," she muttered quickly, drawing his attention back to her. "Just not now!" With that, she kissed him again so that he could feel the steel of her power against his mouth and felt a fire erupt in his body like it never had with Milah before she pushed him away. "Stay close," she ordered.
"As you wish," he promised as the footsteps stopped at her door, and he heard the key turn in its lock.
He left the tower and reappeared in the ballroom, where he struggled to catch his breath following the dalliances of the night. He hadn't slept in decades, so how was it that standing in the ballroom behind a pillar he suddenly felt as though he'd spent the night dreaming? How was it that one girl, the daughter of a miller made his heart jump and his cock ache when he saw her. Those were emotions he'd long thought were dead to him, certainly after he'd killed Milah he'd never thought anything of those reactions. And yet, with Cora they were alive again. One night was all it had taken to stoke them into a flame once more, and for the first time in nearly a century, he found that it was not only his son by his side that he wanted…but Cora too. He wanted to keep her as close as she'd been a few seconds ago. And it wasn't for the baby that she was destined to deliver.
A murmuring from below distracted him. It pulled him out of his fantasies enough that he was able to move around the column and glance down into the ballroom. He'd been right. For most, it seemed as though the party had never stopped last night. They were still dressed in ball gowns, crowns, and the jewelry from the night before, though he did note a fair few who were in their dressing gowns and one or two women in their fancy attire, but with their hair down as though they'd dressed hastily. He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he wondered what color Cora's dressing gown would be, what her hair would look like free from it's knot.
And just like that, she was there. The guards ushered her down the steps in her red dress to where the King was sitting in his throne with Eva and his son at his sides. He watched as her eyes searched the crowd and remembered the promise he'd made to her. He'd promised to keep close, so that was what he would do. Dawning a hood he appeared again at the back of the crowd and made his way forward where he stared at Cora until she saw him. She smiled. It was small and unassuming, but when she tore her eyes off of him and back to the King, she held her head a little higher. What a gorgeous neck she had…
He watched with the crowd then as a soldier followed her down the stairs and leaned down to whisper something in the Kings ear. He reeled back from the man after a second. Staring at him with wide eyes and confusion before the soldier reached out to drop something small into his hand. It would have been too small to recognize if not for the way the golden straw winked in the early sunlight.
The soldier moved aside as the King rose to address them. "The Sorceress, it seems…speaks the truth," he proclaimed.
There were gasps and murmurings from the crowd, fearful noises that he didn't quite understand. She'd spun straw into gold, not babies into wigs. Their reaction was childish and ignorant. But Cora seemed unmoved by it. She only glanced around at the crowd her eyes lingering on him longer and longer each time they passed. He could see relief in her stoic figure. Her life was her own again. Her child would live to cast the curse and until that day came…perhaps they'd have some fun along the way. He nearly lost his head and giggled at such a thought. Where had that come from?
"Of course!" the King cried out suddenly over the noise. "There is but one last thing to prove…" Cora's eyes widened, and he felt her magic settle over the room as the crowd began to move. The spinning wheel, stool and all, had been brought forward. "Show us," the King demanded. "Show us this was no trick of the servants in the night."
"Servants in the night?!" Cora cried out at him. "As if they could produce this power and I could not! Showing you wasn't part of the deal!"
"And you've no right to speak to me, your King, in that tone," he argued back with a remarkably level tone. "For one wishing to marry my son, my pleasure should be your highest priority. I'm not asking much, just a token, merely a trifle of what you've already done is any indication. This is only a parlor trick."
"I'm no monkey."
"And you'll be nothing if you do not do as I say," he spat back. "Becoming royalty is within your reach, my dear…you've just one last step to take."
He held his breath as he watched her. She wasn't one to freely submit, but he'd seen her do it yesterday when her life depended on it. Now he only needed her to do it again as much as it pained her. She really was very close to changing her life for the better she had only to do this one last thing!
"Do it!" he growled under his breath. He was certain that no one had heard him, but Cora's eyes found his own at his words. Fiery as her gaze was, he nodded, urging her forward. She could do this. Though he knew she hated to be made a puppet, he knew that she could do what was requested of her. Fighting it too much only made her look weak, as if she couldn't do it.
Finally, she let out a sigh and stalked over to the wheel. She sat down before it and arranged her gown as she placed a bit of the straw they'd given her into the little cup. He watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them once more, they fell upon him, and once more a blaze of power flooded the room in an invisible rush only he could feel. Her foot pressed on the treadle. The wheel spun to life. Her fingers began to fly through the rhythm that she'd developed over the long hours that night and-
Straw to gold.
When her body stopped working, and he pried his eyes away from her face to look at the spools, he saw the unmistakable glimmer that meant she'd succeeded even under this pressure. She had potential…in more ways than one. He knew it, she knew it, and now they would too.
"Here!" she proclaimed, grabbing the gold thread and taking it to where the King sat upon his throne. "Here's your gold."
The King took it in his hands and examined it. "This…did you really do it?" he questioned with stupid wonder.
Cora smirked. "You saw it with your own eyes."
"You're just a miller's daughter," he sneered as he looked at her in disbelief.
Cora only squared her shoulders. "I am so much more," she stated with confidence.
"You've earned him!" the King finally proclaimed.
From there, he imagined it was like a fairy tale. As the King turned to show other royalty the golden thread, his son, Prince Henry, moved from where he had been standing, took Cora by the hand, and took a knee.
"Cora…if you will do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage," he recited perfectly as the crowd watched with wide astonished eyes.
Her eyes were blank, unfeeling as she stared down at him and finally answered, "Yes."
And so, the miller's daughter was about to become a Princess. But before the Prince rose to his feet to offer her a kiss on the cheek, her gaze moved off of her prize and out to the place he stood among the crowd. Her blank expression hardened into pride.
And there you have it. There shouldn't be anything too surprising in this chapter. We did see this scene in the show, I just had to expand it a bit to make it suitable for the fiction.
Thank you MerlockVonBaron, Grace5231973, and Jennifer Baratta for your reviews on the last chapter. Little note for you, because I know I have at least one fan of the pairing and I don't want anyone to think they are tarnished, Rumple and Margery-don't panic! I know that in this chapter he questions her name and that seems like he's forgotten her, he hasn't. He knows her name. Weird fact, I don't know how or why to explain it, strange seeing as how I wrote the thing, but Rumple does remember Margery and does cherish the relationship they had. But, throughout this fiction there will be moments where he pretends he doesn't know her name, like this chapter, and other times he clearly does. There are reasons why. Many. It's Rumple. The trick is to ask yourself why at any one moment he chooses to pretend like he doesn't know her or why he chooses to remember. And if it doesn't matter to you because you didn't like the relationship, you can disregard this entire message! Peace and Happy Reading!
