Warning: Non-graphic references to Non-Con in this chapter.

Chapter Seventeen—"Victory is Sweet"

"I saw that little doxy of yours in here yesterday," Cora purred, gliding across the floor of his shop to stand in front of Rumplestiltskin. Fortunately, the counter separated them, but her presence was still enough to send shivers down his spine.

"That little what of mine?" he replied dismissively, hiding his sudden surge of panic behind a raised eyebrow and a sarcastically attentive expression.

"What do you see in that Lacey girl, darling?" his onetime lover wondered, reaching out to straighten his tie. Rumplestiltskin yanked back, and she let him, smiling that damned victorious smile of hers.

"She's not you."

At least that was honest enough, although there were a thousand other things Rumplestiltskin saw in Belle, ones Cora would never understand. But in the beginning, the fact that Lacey wasn't Cora was what had made Gold turn to her. He'd been damaged and lonely and so strung out thanks to Cora's attentions that he'd needed someone, and Lacey had been there. Lacey had been kind, gentle, and intelligent. He'd been drawn to her, and she to him—True Love always wins out—and slowly, even under the curse, they had fallen in love. But he certainly wasn't going to tell Cora that. Whatever Cora knew about Lacey, even though it was clearly more than Gold or Rumplestiltskin had ever wanted her to know, was nowhere near the truth. Thankfully.

Cora laughed. "Do I disturb you that much?"

"I just don't like you, dear," Rumplestiltskin replied nastily, smiling back at her to mask his discomfort. Oh, Cora knew that she disturbed him. She was no fool, and knew that she'd taken Gold far too close to the edge too many times. He didn't enjoy her fetishes, didn't like being hurt, and Cora probably wouldn't have indulged the former or done the latter if he did. She knew that he hated what she did to him, and she reveled in that. Power was power for Cora, and she loved every bit of it.

"Of course you don't," she purred, stepping around the counter and closing the distance between them. The coward in Rumplestiltskin wanted to back away from her—the memories of pain and violation at her hands were too fresh—but he refused to give in that much. Cora stopped right in front of him, her smile never wavering. "But what is it that you see in her?"

Damn. He had hoped that he could distract Cora away from that line of questioning.

"I already told you," Rumplestiltskin replied flippantly. "She's not you."

"Surely you're more discriminating than that, or you'd be with half the women in town," was the cool response. Slowly, her right hand came up, starting by fooling with his tie but slipping inside his jacket after a few seconds. Rumplestiltskin shivered, his grip on his cane tightening as he struggled with the rage and fear both ripping through him. "Why her?"

"She's a pretty thing," he said as if it didn't matter, reaching up with his left hand to push Cora's hand away.

"Let me touch you," Cora countered as soon as his fingers touched her wrist. "Now."

Magic sizzled through him, and Rumplestiltskin raged impotently against its hold, a grimace crossing his face and air escaping in a hiss from between suddenly clenched teeth. But he couldn't fight her hold; he'd written the curse too damn well and Cora had cast it too expertly. Was it time to use a please? No. He'd have to reserve those to protect Belle and Gabrielle if it came to that, not to protect himself. His family was more important. He might have been a coward, but even he could be that brave.

Snarling softly, he let his hand drop, feeling his knuckles go white as he gripped his cane even harder and his curse frothed madly in his mind. Unable to pull away—Cora had chosen her command well—he glared at his tormenter.

"Is that all?" she asked when he said nothing.

Kill her and take control of the curse! his own curse raged, but that would not do. Oh, he could assume control of the Dark Curse by killing its caster, but that would ruin some of his long term plans. Rumplestiltskin shrugged as casually as he could with Cora's other hand moving up to join the first, unbuttoning his jacket and vest. "Does there need to be more?"

"There usually is, with you," she replied, and Rumplestiltskin tried not to curse himself for a fool. Gold was simpler than Rumplestiltskin, but he still was a complicated and difficult man, and Cora knew that.

Cora's hand moved downwards, starting to unbuckle his belt, and Rumplestiltskin finally managed a step back, his body going rigid with tension. But she moved with him, pressing forward until his back was against the wall and her body so close that he could feel her breath on his skin. He shuddered, trying to keep up his hostile glare, but finding it hard. Was she really doing this now? Here? He had always known that Cora would grow more controlling as the curse slowly slipped through her fingers, but somehow Rumplestiltskin had never foreseen this.

"Stand still, now," she whispered, finishing with his belt as her other hand reached up to play with his hair. Rumplestiltskin looked away, and she continued: "Well? Is it just because she is pretty and willing, and doesn't…challenge you?"

"Something like that," he replied uncomfortably, his chest tight. The curse anchored him in place; even though Rumplestiltskin wanted to flee, now he couldn't, and he could feel its power wrapping around him. Cora still had too much control, and he couldn't fight her, no matter how much he wanted to.

Damn this curse he had created!

"Well, she's certainly willing enough," Cora chuckled softly, her hand slipping inside his pants. Rumplestiltskin squirmed, but the curse held him still, threads of magic enveloping him and forcing him to submit. Her fingers played over him, nails scraping not-quite-gently as he hissed uncomfortably. "As evidenced by that little bastard of hers."

Fury flared; Rumplestiltskin saw red. He barely had time to stop himself from saying something vehemently defensive of his daughter, but he managed. Instead, he clothed his anger in his present situation, snarling: "Get your hands off me."

"You didn't ask nicely," she cooed, and although Cora was being sarcastic, Rumplestiltskin sensed the opportunity right before she leaned in to kiss him.

He jerked back, turning his head away even as her lips brushed against his. Cora had said nothing about a kiss, and he wasn't feeling cooperative. Her curse-enforced commands could not hold him on that, and so he exploited that loophole even as he responded to her comment. "Is that supposed to matter?" he demanded because Gold would have. Gold would not have known how effective the next words would be, but he did: "Please get your hands off of me."

"Of course." Cora managed not to look like there was magic forcing her to comply; her playful smile stayed firmly in place, but Rumplestiltskin knew the difference. He could feel it. "See what happens when you're polite? You get things that you want."

"I doubt that," he snapped back, resisting the urge to say more.

Cora laughed, stepping away. "You never know."

Rumplestiltskin only snorted, not even waiting before he quickly re-buckled his belt, and then re-buttoned both his vest and his shirt. He never stopped glaring at her, and Cora never stopped smiling, although she did turn for the door, drifting out of the shop like she had chosen to stop instead of inadvertently inviting him to foil her. She was clever; Rumplestiltskin had to give her that. She always had been.

"I'll see you tonight, dear," she smiled, and then left Rumplestiltskin alone in the shop with only his sick despair for company.

5 Years Before the Curse

If only Eva could see her darling daughter now.

Cora smiled to herself as she walked through the dungeons, her daughter's pleas still echoing in her ears. Regina would eventually learn that her childish attachment to Snow was misplaced; Cora would teach her that. Unfortunately, that attachment had been useful when Leopold was alive because he hadn't been fully under Cora's control (the necessity of leaving his heart in his chest had been irksome, but one could not feel even fake love without a heart) and had liked to see his stepdaughter and daughter close, which had led to him favoring Regina. So, she could put up with the foolishness for now, provided Regina proved more malleable in the future. She would mourn her "little sister" for some time, but then Cora would begin the process of shaping Regina into the queen she knew she could be.

First, Snow White. The irritatingly good offspring of a conniving bitch and a fool, and now Cora's toy to play with. Her insipid little stepdaughter was due to die in three days, and Cora wanted her to feel every second of fear leading up to that moment. She would be executed in private, of course, as was befitting a princess, but key members of the court would be there. Cora could already imagine Snow's tearful pleas and terror, and she couldn't wait to see that moment. Eva might have turned Leopold on her all those years ago, but now Cora had won everything. She had poisoned Eva, and she would execute her beloved daughter, too.

"Hello, dear," she said with a smile, waving the cell door open. The guards she dismissed; Cora was queen, and a sorceress besides. Snow certainly wasn't going to escape her.

"Cora." Snow's voice was surprisingly steady, and although she looked like she might have been crying earlier, now she gazed at her stepmother with serenity Cora had not expected.

"Is that any way to greet someone who comes bearing a gift?" Cora asked lightly, summoning Snow's too-pure heart into her right hand. It beat softly, and then harder and harder with delicious fear.

The girl's eyes snapped to the glowing heart; they always did. But then she said something unexpected: "Why don't you just kill me now? Crush it and be done with everything."

"Now why would I do that?" Cora laughed.

"You've won. Isn't that enough?" Snow demanded, and now the serenity vanished. She looked broken again, and Cora drank in her despair. It was one of the most beautiful things Cora had ever seen. It was victory, the miller's daughter beating out the pampered princess once and for all.

"It will never be enough," she answered honestly, stepping forward and shoving the heart back in Snow's chest.

Her expression was more priceless than most. Snow's mouth opened in a shocked 'o', and a pitiful little noise of pain squeaked out of her as she staggered, emotions and fears hitting her all at once. The princess rocked back on her heels, almost falling until she caught herself on the cold stone wall, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Cora knew from experience that it was so much easier to deal with heartbreak when you did not have your heart, and she reveled in watching Snow's self-control fail before her eyes. This was the very least the girl deserved. She wasn't only Eva's daughter, after all. Snow was the girl who tried to get between Cora's daughter and her future, who had tried to steal away the prince Cora meant for Regina.

"Why are you doing this?" Snow whispered. "What did I ever do to you?"

"You existed." Cora shrugged. "You've taken the place that should belong to my daughter, just as your mother took the place that should have been mine."

Never mind how Snow had replaced the daughter Cora had given up so many years ago. She had put Zelena—a name and face she now knew—in a basket and sent her away, and it had been Eva's fault. Cora would have kept her had Eva's spite not gotten in the way, and things would have been different. Still, Cora would not dwell on that, not now, although it did serve as another strike against Snow. If not for her mother, if not for little good Snow White, Cora would never have had to give her first child up, and none of this would have been necessary.

"Is this about James?" her stepdaughter asked incredulously. "It's not my fault that King George wanted to marry his son to the heir, not to Regina. And I—"

"And now he shall. Regina shall inherit both kingdoms when I die, and she will marry the boy you fancy yourself in love with. Die with that in your heart," Cora retorted, smiling viciously. So what if Regina didn't love Prince James? Marriages were not made for love; they were made for power.

"You won't get away with this," Snow swore. "Regina's better than you. She won't be your tool."

Such naiveté. Cora just chuckled. "Of course she will, dear. She's my daughter."

She left without another word, locking the door securely behind herself and summoning the guards back to their posts. In three days, her victory would be complete, and Cora would shape the world exactly how she wished it to be.

"I can't believe she did that," Emma grumbled as they poked through files in the Storybrooke Records Office. The files there were so unorganized that things were impossible to find unless you already knew where they were, and Emma was obviously ready to lose her mind after only a half an hour of searching. Of course, the fact that Regina had managed to convince Mr. Kay to take an early lunch didn't help either of them, but at least that kept him from reporting to Cora what they were looking for. Overall, Regina thought that was a necessary inconvenience, even if it did slow their search down.

"Of course she did," Regina replied, rolling her eyes. "Francis Scadlock is mother's pet reporter. He runs the Daily Mirror, and never publishes a thing that she doesn't want him to."

"Those records were supposed to be sealed!" Emma objected, and Regina snorted.

"Yes, because no one has ever hacked into juvenile records before."

Emma frowned, but before she could argue—or complain more—Henry piped up: "It's not like you did something terrible. All you did was steal some watches, right?"

"That's not the point," Emma told their mutual son—although how he'd become their son somewhat baffled Regina. She was the one who had done the hard work raising Henry when Emma was too young and frightened to do so, and Henry was her son. But she had to admit that Emma had at least a little right to him, and the savior had never indicated that she wanted to take Henry away from Regina. Had she done that, it wouldn't have mattered whose daughter Emma was. Regina would have fought her tooth and nail and never helped her one bit. But she hadn't, which meant Regina could get along with her just fine. Particularly when she reminds me of Snow.

"No, the point is that we're looking for something hidden under the hospital, and not buried treasure," she cut in dryly. "Can you two focus?"

"Sorry, Mom," Henry said immediately, and Regina spared her beloved boy a smile. She was still 'Mom' while Emma was just 'Emma', and Regina felt a rush of love every time she heard Henry call her that.

"There has to be something here," Emma groused. "That text—"

"Could have been a prank," she pointed out. "I've never heard of anything being there, and I'm Mother's assistant."

"But you were under the curse—" Henry started, and Regina cut him off hurriedly. Emma still wasn't ready to hear all of that, and it would just make the Savior testy.

"Let's keep looking, then," she said briskly, shooting a warning glare at her son.

Henry just shrugged and did so. He thought Emma needed to be smacked in the face with the truth, but Regina had known Emma's parents well enough to know that would just make Emma stubborn. Her own approach was a little more subtle, not that subtlety had ever been her strong suit. Rumplestiltskin would be far more suited to manipulate the Savior, but he was still busy with her mother, a thought that just made Regina roll her eyes and open another drawer of files. This one was even less organized than the last, with most of the folders not even labeled. Sighing, she started digging through the folder in front, hoping to find anything about the construction of the library or some place where people who disappeared—and there were a lot of such people in Storybrooke—might be stored by an Evil Queen.

The first folder was useless, as were the six after that. But in the eighth, Regina found a set of blueprints. At first, she didn't think they were important, but then she caught sight of 'Storybrooke Asylum' typed down in the bottom right hand corner, and she yanked them out of the drawer.

"I think I found something!"

"May I have a moment, Miss Swan?" an accented voice asked as Emma, Regina, and Henry strode out of Storybrooke Town Records.

Emma turned, irritated at the interruption. For once she felt like she'd accomplished something useful for a change. Regina had found blueprints for an asylum buried underneath the hospital, of all places, and then Henry had stumbled upon additional information on the very same secret prison. They didn't know who was there or how to get in, but at least they knew the place existed—and that meant that Emma's anonymous benefactor had been right. Whoever had sent her that information certainly knew what they were talking about. Too bad he or she didn't give me a number to call back. I'd like some more tidbits of information!

"Uh, sure," she replied, glancing at Regina and Henry. "I'll catch up with you two later."

"Tomorrow," Regina replied immediately. "Henry's got homework to do."

"But Mom, this is so much more interesting!" the boy objected, pouting.

"But your math homework is even more important," she retorted, giving him a pointed look. Temperamental though she could sometimes be, Regina really was a good mother for Henry, so Emma backed her up.

"Don't you have a test tomorrow?" she asked.

Henry frowned. "Yes, but—"

"No buts," Regina cut him off, grabbing him by the shoulder. "We'll see you tomorrow, Emma."

"Yep," she replied, turning back to the dark-haired marina owner. "So, what can I do for you, Killian?"

She'd only met the man once before, and then he'd rather inappropriately invited her out right after Graham's accident, right after Cora had fired her and actually had the nerve to file a restraining order to keep Emma away from her friend! At the moment, that meant she was relying on reports from Regina to keep abreast of Graham's condition, but that wasn't the same as being able to visit him. Emma wasn't sure if she had any powerful romantic feelings for the former sheriff, but she knew that she liked him, and that he was a damn good man. He deserved a lot better than what Cora had done, and all her memories of Cyril—'call me Killian'—O'Malley were wrapped up in her anger over that situation. It wasn't terribly fair, but Emma supposed her reaction was human enough.

"I wanted to offer you my help, actually," he replied, giving her a charming smile that probably made most women melt a little.

"And why would you want to do that?" Emma asked curiously.

"Because I liked—like—Graham," was the response. "He's a good man, and Keith Law isn't. Old fashioned though it sounds…this town deserves better."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You think that's me?"

"I don't know." Now his smile turned saucy and inviting. "But I'd like to find out."

Ah, there it is. I was wondering how long he could go without flirting. Emma knew O'Malley's type, after all. He was admittedly pretty to look at, or even gorgeous, with deep blue eyes and just a scruffy enough appearance to make a girl's knees weak. She'd been involved with men of this type a half dozen times, and usually enjoyed the liaisons while they lasted. He was exactly the wrong sort of guy, the type who broke hearts and moved onto the next woman without blinking an eye, but Emma ate those kinds of guys for breakfast.

"I bet you would," she retorted, waiting a beat before continuing: "Can we limit the flirting and keep this to business? You want to help, fine. Tell me how you're going to do that."

"Ah, straightforward, eh, love? I like that in a lass," he said with another grin. "I'm a respectable business owner. I have lots of friends and business contacts. People listen to me."

"And you'll get them to vote for me?" Emma wanted to hear that straight up, not just hints.

"Aye, I will," O'Malley confirmed.

Emma cocked her head, studying the marina owner for a moment. He seemed honest enough, and she didn't detect a lie, so she allowed herself to smile. "Okay, then. You pull that off, and I'll let you buy me that drink you promised."

After all, it didn't hurt to give the man an incentive. Emma didn't think it was dishonest to promise him a drink, and she'd probably even enjoy sharing one with him. O'Malley was certainly one of the best looking men in town, and not one that Henry thought was related to her. Even if Henry's book was utterly insanity, it was nice to know that her kid didn't think all of the potential love interests in this town were relatives of hers. Not that she was looking for love, because she wasn't. But there were worse ways to celebrate a potential victory than having a drink with a handsome and rich man.

Poor Prince Eric—or Chef Christopher Anderson in this world—put the dessert dishes on the table without a word, backing away and waiting for direction from Cora. He was yet another well-trained and cowed royal, just the way she liked them here in Storybrooke. Rumplestiltskin found her continued persecution of the royals incredibly crass, but then, Cora had always been vindictive and vicious for all her outward display of good manners. Gold hadn't really cared who Cora used and abused, and in truth, Rumplestiltskin didn't much give a damn, either. Except in select cases, he supposed. Mostly, though, he just didn't care. Most of them had never done anything for him unless they wanted something in return, so whatever happened to those arrogant royals was on their own heads, distasteful though it was.

"That will be all, Christopher," Cora said, waving an authoritative hand to dismiss him. "You can come back for the dishes in…oh, an hour or so."

Most expert chefs would have been insulted by the fact that they were expected to clean the dishes as well cook, but Anderson said nothing. He only nodded and retreated from the room, blissfully silent. Rumplestiltskin was, as Gold had always been, grateful for his discretion. Anderson had caught the two of them in…compromising positions more than once, many of which had consisted of Gold attempting to resist Cora. It never had worked out well for Gold, but Anderson never said a word. Apparently, Cora had indeed created herself the perfect servant with the curse, and Rumplestiltskin was willing to bet she was quite satisfied on the domestic front.

"Still feeling feisty, darling?" she purred, daintily eating the chocolate cake Anderson had served. Normally, Rumplestiltskin's sweet tooth would have demanded he devour such a delicious treat, but tonight he had no appetite. Being around Cora tended to do that to him, so he sat back and just watched her, not even bothering to hide his hostility.

"Define feisty," he snapped.

Cora smiled. "I can see what your answer is. What has gotten into you, lately?"

Alarms went off in his head; although the question had been asked casually, there was a dangerous glint in Cora's eyes. Regina hasn't come by recently, Rumplestiltskin realized abruptly. She's been very cautious ever since the Huntsman's accident. That could only mean one thing. Cora had somehow realized that Regina remembered, and that meant she could do the same where he was concerned. Of course, she wasn't nearly so good at bullying him as she had always been at bullying her daughter, but Rumplestiltskin still had to be careful. One misstep could endanger his family, because Cora still had enough power to harm them without worrying about repercussions.

"I suppose it never occurred to you that your antics in my shop might put me in a foul mood," he said with Gold's quiet ire and Gold's pointed glare.

"You're saying that I put you in such a foul mood?" Her expression was the picture of innocence, but he'd chosen the right angle. Cora enjoyed making Gold uncomfortable, which was why she'd acted like that in the shop, which had always been Gold's one place of safety.

"I'm a private man, Cora. Not an exhibitionist."

"Of course you aren't. But what's life without a little adventure?" Her smile wasn't playful, though; it was hungry and dangerous, and more than a little possessive. It was enough to send a chill down Rumplestiltskin's spine, and not in a good way. Gold had feared her, and if he wasn't careful, he was going to wind up fearing Cora, not just what she could do to him.

"I think we're going to have to disagree on that front," Rumplestiltskin replied drily. He had never been much of an adventurer, after all, and Gold hadn't, either. Both were content with going where the pursuit of their goals—or the pursuit of power—took them, and no further. And he wasn't into her kinks, either. "I'm not into your…habits, dear. You know that."

Cora rose gracefully, gesturing for him to do the same. "That's what makes it so much fun."

"For you, perhaps," he shot back, but rose, leaning on his cane. Some battles were worth fighting; others were not. He could not accidentally use a please tonight, not twice in one day. Not if he wanted Cora to think he was merely Gold. Tonight he would have to keep Rumplestiltskin under wraps, would have to endure whatever happened, much though that thought made him feel sick.

His stomach rolled in disgust and fear as Cora stepped close to him, but Rumplestiltskin forced himself to stand his ground. Besides, one of the distinctive problems with being in the Land Without Magic was how the old leg injury hampered his mobility, and Rumplestiltskin knew from vast personal experience that he'd go nowhere quickly nor gracefully. Better to let her close the distance than to make a clumsy fool out of himself trying to get away. This woman might have raped him time and again, might have forced humiliation upon humiliation upon him, but he still had at least a little pride left.

"Did you read that lovely article that Scadlock wrote about our interloping would-be sheriff?" Cora asked curiously as she reached up to untie his tie. It always annoyed him when she did that. Cora liked to use his expensive silk ties in ways they were not designed to be used, which meant they often wound up wrinkled and stretched. So he scowled at her freely.

"That piece of rubbish? Of course I did. Scadlock's a terrible writer," he said drolly. "Though I have to grant you that he's decent enough at ferreting out secrets. How did you convince him to dig up such things on Miss Swan?"

Cora preened, and Rumplestiltskin tried not to roll his eyes. Of course he knew how she'd convinced Francis Scadlock to do her bidding; the owner of the Daily Mirror had been Will Scarlet before the curse, sometime member of the Merry Men and later reluctantly in Cora's service. If Rumplestiltskin's memory served him correctly—and it usually did—Scarlet and his lady love had returned from Wonderland only to run afoul of the Evil Queen, who'd promptly taken his heart when he'd refused to do her some service or another. Although what Rumplestiltskin couldn't recall was what had happened to Ella's stepsister…Anastasia? Something like that. She should have been here in Storybrooke as one of Ashley Boyd's obnoxious stepsisters, but only the elder one seemed to be around. Odd. The girl was largely unremarkable, despite having almost become the Red Queen, but Rumplestiltskin had kept an eye on the pair because they shared True Love.

"Most men are easy enough to persuade if you know where their buttons are," she replied smugly, her hands moving downwards to unbutton his jacket and vest. Rumplestiltskin didn't manage to hold back his grimace, but he did manage not to point out that possessing someone's heart made them oddly malleable to your desires. Cora already knew that, after all, and Gold certainly wasn't supposed to believe in magic.

Still, thinking about that was easier than coping with the way Cora insistently tugged his suit jacket and vest off, and Rumplestiltskin kept trying to distract himself—and her—with inane questions about the many ways she intended to block Emma from becoming sheriff. He learned a few useful things, and perhaps managed to delay the inevitable for a little while. Cora did like to have her formidable intelligence appreciated, after all, and she had no reason to suspect that Gold was rooting for the Savior. Gold had almost as much dirt on Keith Law as she did, and had no problems manipulating and/or bullying him. Gold would have been far more satisfied with Law filling Graham's shoes, but Rumplestiltskin was not Gold.

Even if he felt very much like his cursed self as Cora slowly stripped him of clothes and dignity both before leading him down to the basement, even if he did resist enough to force her to use a few well-placed Nows to make him comply. The next two hours were a complete nightmare, and by the time she'd finished with her regimen of shocks—fiercer and longer than usual—Rumplestiltskin was shaking and panting where she'd tied him to the bed. That damn bed had restraints built in, and no matter how much he jerked and convulsed, he knew from vast experience that they'd not give. He hated feeling helpless, hated the way Cora reached out to tenderly brush sweat-drenched hair out of his face.

"Your little Lacey can't get reactions nearly this powerful out of you, can she?" Cora said, clearly satisfied with her work.

He looked at her incredulously, the truth finally dawning on him. Cora was jealous. She was envious of the relationship Gold had with Lacey, even though she must have known about it for quite some time. Oh, she was probably more irritated because that relationship meant her possession—Gold—was getting away from her, going to someone else for comfort, but all the same, he could read the expression on the face of his heartless former lover. That was the reason for the extra pain, the continual pushing of his limits. Cora was jealous.

"She's nothing," he managed to wheeze, hating himself for the lie. Or not quite lie. "Lacey is…just a distraction."

Lacey, after all, was just an overlay. A mask to protect Belle, as Gold protected him. In the end, Lacey would not matter. Only Belle would. That was his loophole, his way to speak truthfully and convince Cora that Lacey did not matter. That was the way he could keep his family safe from this monster to which he had given so much power.

Forgive me, Belle.

A/N: Kudos to everyone who guessed that Gold texted that little tidbit of information to Emma. He's working more behind the scenes here than he was in the show, but he's still in the game and hoping to make Emma sheriff.

Stay tuned for Chapter Eighteen: "Pressure Points", where Emma bursts into the asylum, Hook tries to get in Emma's good graces, and Rumplestiltskin fights with the urge to wake Belle up. Back in the past, David and Regina plot to rescue Snow and Regina turns to her mentor for help.

While you're waiting for the next chapter, riddle me this: what unexpected people do you think will be found in the asylum?