Hey there! For those who asked here goes chapter 2! Enjoy! A special thank you to Karren. Love you, darling! :3

Marco, who was visiting, had put the kettle on. The water was almost boiling by the time he took it away from the fire. He knew the young father was a bit tense after his visit to Mills Manor. It was understandable. The atmosphere within its walls can be a tad overwhelming. But the old carpenter was sure he'd be alright. Robin hadn't give him any details. He had keep it to himself.

'That house has as many secrets as the Sphinx and it was built centuries after it', the old man wondered. If you ask around town, everyone has a juicy tale about that house on the top of the hill.

Tea was ready; it was time to get some information from that stubborn lad. He poured the tea into mugs and headed outside. Robin was sanding a desk, a very generous commission from the town's doctor who was remodelling his office. It was worth a pretty penny, Marco would say. Roland, as usual, was playing while his father worked under the shed next to his workshop. There was a nice comforting scent of sawed wood and varnish in the autumnal, chill air around them. It was an image that warmed Marco's heart. He was proud of his apprentice.

"Who taught you to make such nice things?" the old man teased.

"Oh, I don't know…" Robin teased back, giving the former carpenter a smug smile.

"Here's a cuppa. Nice and warm, maybe it'll life your spirits" he said, passing the mug into Robin's hands. "You've been much too silent today, not quite yourself since your visit to Mills Manor."

"You're right, but I don't really want to talk about it."

"Why not? Has Lord Henry Mills frighten you so you are unable to talk about it?"

"Lord… How do you know about Henry Mills?" Robin inquired, a bit shocked.

"Oh, I know many stories about that house. I know the story of his daughter."

"It doesn't really matter. I'm not going back there."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You see, my boy. I was there once too. I went to the house, moved by my own silly curiosity. I heard Lord Mills' tale and like you, I ran away and I never came back. Today, I see I shouldn't have done that. Of all those people who have been there, I had been the only one who ever saw him from a close distance, who was welcomed by him and invited to enter his house. The only one…until yesterday. That has to mean something."

"It doesn't mean anything. It just happened."

"A coincidence, my boy? There is no such thing in this world. Henry Mills asked your help –"

"I had nothing to do with his family or what happened to his daughter. I have my own burdens and worries." Robin told the older man, his voice louder from irritation. Marco seemed to understand his denial. He recognised himself in it. His anger and helplessness against the unknown, the supernatural, something he couldn't quite define and understand. But it was okay.

"I'll tell you this, maybe it will help you understand: I still don't know what Lord Mills saw in me that day to make him ask for my help. Maybe he was that desperate, but I have an idea of what he saw in you. Loss, kindness, courage and strength: words he knows too well. And he knows you might be able to disclose what happened to them, why they are still here, because that's what he wanted: the truth, to know why they are still there, the motive of this curse."

"Do you think I'm able to do it?" Robin asked before taking a sip from his mug.

"I'm sure. If not you, who else? Me? What does a person who never had anything or anyone know about loss? What I longed for, I never had. I am of no use to them."

"So, you really think I should go?"

"Yes, my boy."

Robin thought for a bit, sipping from his mug, looking away to the trees and the orange, red and yellow leaves on the floor.

"I'll go now, before I change my mind. Will you keep an eye on Roland? I promise I won't be long. I'll be back before supper."

"No problem." Marco said, smiling.

"I'll just fetch my coat and scarf."

Robin went to Roland, kissed his little head and told him to be good to Marco in his absence. He explained why he had to go as well as he could explain his visit to a haunted house.

He took off, climbing the hill briskly as if afraid of being late to his ghoulish rendezvous. He walked and he walked, each step heavier than the last. At halfway there he started to notice the smell of roses on his nose. He knew he was close then. As he arrived, he could no longer hear the sound of birds or the cars downtown. Everything was just silence, unbearable silence. He crossed the rusty iron gates, he walked the dirt path to the door and then he just went in, like that, as if people were expecting him inside.

The door had just opened and Robin found himself in Mills Manor's entrance hall once again. He felt silly, he didn't know what he was supposed to do at that point, how he could draw the ghosts' attention to him. So he decided to start shouting.

"Hello! Lord Mills?!"

Silence.

You could hear a needle falling without much effort.

"Hello!" he tried again.

This time he felt the air shift in lament.

"Hello, sir." said a small voice from behind him. He turned and saw a small boy with playful green eyes and light brown hair, dressed in a white pressed shit and navy blue shorts and a book under his arm.

"Hello, little man. What's your name?" Robin asked, cautiously, squatting to be at the level of the child's eyes.

"Henry."

"Henry… Do you know where I can find Lord Mills?"

"He's not available today, sir." The child says with innocence.

"Hum… well, huh…" Robin was speechless. How could possibly a ghost be busy?

"Would you like me to show you around the house, sir?" Henry asked politely.

"Huh, why not?" Robin shrugged.

"Right! Let's start on the library. This way!" Henry said excitedly, passing by him, running towards one of the closed doors, and not like he expected – for he had watched many ghost movies in his youth – he didn't pass through it, he opened it and passed through like a normal person would.

Robin stood there, still a bit stunned. But then, he shook his head, composed himself and followed the boy into the library. Upon entering, he saw an unending sea of books. Atlas, fictions, non-fictions, scientific treaties, medical texts, history manuals, works of the highest and lowest quality, classics and poetry. There was a bit of everything and everything was precious, he could tell. He noticed the hunting scenes on the paintings all over the walls that weren't covered by shelves. The armchair by the window had been a special place to someone in the past. He was ready to bet it had been Lord Henry's. By the armchair there was an old globe which was now obsolete. It was cold, dusty and dry. The window was big enough to light every single corner of the room which was nice. The landscape allowed the visitor to see downtown and the docks, boats and ocean.

He saw Henry sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace with a book on his lap. It was an Atlas, a map of Central America displayed on the page. He had his little finger going through the page, as if reading all the different and tiny names written on it. He could tell this child loved books.

"That a pretty cool atlas you've got there."

"It's not cool…It's at a normal temperature."

"Oh, I mean, it's rather entertaining."

"Oh indeed it is! Did you know Grandpa Mills has been in all of these islands?"

"Fascinating."

"Indeed, and the stories he told! Riches and pirates, adventures and animals we have never seen before!"

"That must have been very special to you."

"It was. Grandpa is the best storyteller."

"He is indeed. They used to live there, Grandpa Henry and Grandma Cora, before they came here. They lived in Puerto Rico. That's where Aunt Regina was born, in San Juan. They moved to Jamaica when she was still very little. And then, they settled here. They built this house." Henry said, his eyes saddening with each word.

"You don't like it here? It's a beautiful house…"

"It's not that…It's sad here. Aunt Regina is sad all the time. And angry" he explained.

"I see."

"But you're here now. I knew you'd comeback. I told them you would, they wouldn't believe it."

"Well, like you said, I'm back."

"I saw you with a little boy yesterday."

"Yes, he's Roland, my son."

"Will you bring him next time?"

Before this answer, Robin was not sure what to respond, he didn't know how all this would affect Roland and he wanted to be careful. It was enough trouble he was caught in this mess. Anyway, to save him the pain of making a promise he could not keep he saw two people staring at him from the doorway.

There was a man and a woman there, staring at him. Both of them wearing period clothing. The woman dressed in white and the man in grey. She has dark hair, very pale skin and eyes like two emeralds. The man had blond hair, tender blue eyes and very pink lips. Robin stood immediately like a child who had been caught in mischief.

"I'm sorry for coming unannounced." Robin tried.

"We didn't actually believed you'd come back, but we are glad you did. People usually run away and never come back."

"Not without good reason." Said David.

"We heard you, but Lord Mills is not available presently." Mary Margaret continued.

"My name is Robin Locksley."

"Yes, Lord Mills told us all about you. I'm Mary Margaret and this is my husband David Nolan. And that little sneak is Henry, our son." The child smiled widely as if thanking the woman's words as a compliment. "It's a true pleasure to meet you. Well, since Lord Mills is not here to see you, we'd be glad to help you in whatever we can. Even if it is not that much, I'm sorry to tell. Please do sit."

"Whatever information you have is good enough; better than nothing, I reckon." Robin said, while motioning to retake his place beside Henry. Mary Margaret sort of floated with her husband towards the armchair to their right. David sat and Mary Margaret took the place on the arm of the seat.

"Do you have any idea of what is keeping you here?"

"A curse." Mary Margaret answered like it was the most obvious thing to human knowledge.

"And do you have any idea who cast it?"

"We don't have an idea. We know who cast it" said David, irritably.

"Please, David; don't be harsh. I presume my uncle filled you in on the subject of my cousin Regina."

"Indeed" Robin said, a mix of bitterness and sympathy marring his voice.

"It was her who cursed us all" the woman explained.

"And why would she do that?"

"We don't really know. We never did anything to her. Anything worth going such great lengths for, I'd say. I remember us discussing a ball we had attended a few days before. People had liked my dress very much. They said I was the fairest of them all, but I don't think Regina would be jealous about such frivolities. Not really! She'd tease but never hold some sort of grudge for not having the attention of the people in town. On the contrary, she was very discrete and was happy that way. Yet, her last days were far from peaceful or something near happy."

"Someone she had loved very much had died recently, I'd say she had good reason to feel sad and angry."

"Yes, but why curse her own family if she had no motive?"

"Maybe she had motive." Robin replied. "What do you remember of those last days?"

"Well…After Mr Colter's death, hum…maybe a few days later, Regina became ill. We called a physician. It was an infection, it was nothing incurable; it was but a little cough, maybe some residue from holding Mr Colter's body for too long after he was dead. He bled her and prescribed medicines, if Regina took them as she should I don't know, but I'd say she did, with her mother constantly nursing her to good health… Maybe that's why she took her own life. Maybe she just couldn't move on." That said, Mary Margaret took a slight pause to take a deep breath and she resumed. "I visited her often in her chambers, but she rarely spoke. I'd read to her. Regina liked reading… Sometimes I'd peek over the book and watch her eyes filled with hate, but then they seemed to soften the second she noticed I'd be looking back at her. She's smile; I knew it was fake. With Regina I could always tell. I'd ask her what was wrong and she'd always ask me to keep reading. The day before she died, I passed her door and heard her like I had not heard her during those days. She was shouting at Aunt Cora! Wrath, rage, pure anger, I swear!"

"Did you make up her words?"

"Just 'I curse you all'. Of course I didn't think she had cast an actual curse by then. The next day she was dead, blood soaking her bed clothing. I had never seen anything like that. Aunt Cora was never the same; I saw her come apart. That woman had always been a tower of strength, nothing seemed to get through her or shake her. It took a great blow like that to break her to pieces. And she did. She really did."

"And Lord Henry?"

"He had to be the strong one for both of them. Regina's death somehow brought them together. But even that was taken from them."

"Your aunt died."

"Not until after a year after. I was surprised how long she survived, really. She couldn't sleep. Her heart failed from exhaustion. She was a shell of the woman she had been when I last saw her. She was terrified of mirrors and the sunset brought her near hysterics. Uncle Henry sent her to the asylum so she could get better, but it only worsened her condition. She couldn't hold a cup to her mouth, her hands were constantly shaking. She suffered greatly. Even now, she's still living the nightmare. She haunts the attic where she can't tell the night from the day. She does not dare to come down."

"What about Lord Mills?"

"He died when Henry was already five and Emma was three. He was a sad man, always thinking of his lost family. His true ailment was never discovered. I'd say he died of a broken heart. He'd ask for Regina. 'Where's my little girl? I want my Regina. Fetch Regina, please.' he'd beg. I was with him when he died, I was holding his hand with one hand and trying to bring his fever down with a rag soaked with cold water with the other; he was looking at me and telling me this house would be mine as soon as he drew his last breath. I thanked him but I told him he'd live many years and all those foolish things we say to comfort ourselves when a loved one is about to die. Then he looked above my shoulder and smiled. His last words were 'There you are'."

"He saw her." Robin concluded, receiving a nod from Mary Margaret as answer.

"Indeed. After he died everything went downhill. What we thought it would be our home, the house we had inherited from my mother's brother was something out of a horror novel."

"How so?"

"During the day it was quiet, light and peaceful. During the night there were screams, strange lights, air currents out of nowhere, evil laughter echoing through the halls, broken mirrors, misplaced objects; we'd feel someone touching our shoulders at times… To sum it up, all kinds of strange things. As if that wasn't bad enough, I saw my Aunt Cora before me; he face was pure horror, her hair was down and she was hugging herself like she was cold. 'Please, run. There's still time. Run' she said. I was so afraid I didn't sleep all night and I prayed, I prayed until daylight broke into my room."

"But it wasn't the end of it." Robin presumed.

"Far from it; it was just the beginning. I saw Uncle Henry, six months after. He was sitting right on that armchair by the window. When he'd come home from his business in town we'd have tea here. After tea, Uncle Henry would sit Regina and I both on his knees and tell us stories from the faraway countries he had visited in his youth with the help of that same old globe. It was a very special time. I had lost my mother recently and having my uncle and Regina there for me was very reassuring. We were like sisters. In her own way, she saved me."

"And you Uncle's…let's call it visit?"

"Far from reassuring. 'Forgive her, this is not the person we know and love. She's a monster', he said."

"What happened next?"

"In a snow day, I went out of the house for a morning walk. I loved walking when it was cold. That day, I went about the garden and the lake near these parts and when I came home, as I was trying to open it, I heard it be locked. I called out to whoever was doing it asking them to unlock the door. But to no avail. Then I remember, Regina and I used to do this as kids. Before tea time, we could be found wondering around the house, playing by the rose bushes, then Aunt Cora would come and call us for tea. We'd start running to see who came in first. In order to win, Regina didn't always played fair, nor did I, for that matter." Mary Margaret smiled, reminiscing. "We'd close the door on each other's nose, and the one locked outside would have to run to the staff entrance and run through the kitchen. That's how it was with us. And that's how it would be that day. Except the kitchen door was locked as well and this was far from child's play. To worsen things for me, a snow storm started the very moment I tried to enter the kitchen. I was found hours later, buried in snow in hypothermia. I died three days later of pneumonia. The last thing I saw was Regina's dark eyes, stabbing into mine, her face transpiring pure, burning wrath."

"So not only is Regina responsible the curse, she's the indirect cause for your deaths?" Robin asked.

"Not all. Henry and Emma were different. She loved children. She wasn't capable of that kind of thing. Henry died of Yellow Fever."

"And your daughter?"

"Emma was lost at sea a few years into adulthood. She was travelling to England with her fiancé. The ship she was sailing on wrecked and she went down with it. If she tells you the story, it come out less tragic." Mary Margaret quipped.

"I see."

"Emma and Killian are both here too. They occupy the music room. If the piano starts playing you just know it's them."

"Thank you for that information. I'm sure it will spare me a few grey hairs."

"I doesn't spare me, though." David muttered. "I still don't like the captain one bit!"

"Oh please, David. Not again!" Mary Margaret begged.

"I don't like him and that's final."

"It's been over a hundred years, David…"

"It could have been over a millennium, I'd still not like that chap. Captain, my fiddle! He can't even be considered a gentleman! He's a disgrace, a rogue, a phony and I don't like him. End of discussion." David ranted, punctuating his speech with punches on his own thigh and isdain dripping from his voice.

"David! Your manners!"

"Huh… I'm sorry. It's still a difficult subject for me to talk about. You see, they eloped without my blessing."

"I understand. How did you die, Mr Nolan?"

"I fell and hit my head."

Robin's brow went up.

"That's it?"

"I have to admit is a rather stupid way to die but I can assure you it is a totally legitimate one."

"Yes, I'm sure it is. Anyway, I've overstayed my welcome. I thank you for receiving me but now I must to go home to my son. Hopefully, Lord Mills will be available in the afternoon?" Robin asked, getting up from the comfortable couch.

"Yes, he'll see you tomorrow."

"Tell him I send my regards."

"We will."

"You will come back, right Mr Locksley?"

"I promise you, Henry" the man smiled.

The souls accompanied him to the door and stood there floating watching him exit through the tall oak door without looking back and little did they know someone was watching them from a very close distance. It was actually just a reflection away.