Chapter Twenty-Five—"Looking"

Dove delivered the blue and gold chest the next day, having snagged it from the fire department without offering much in the way of explanation, and Rumplestiltskin very consciously chose not to ask if his all-around handyman had simply stolen the chest. Whatever had driven Dove to do so, his instincts were spot on: not only did his employer want the chest, but Rumplestiltskin (or Gold, as Dove still thought of him) wanted its miraculously unburnt status kept quiet. Very quiet. If Cora heard that one single chest had survived without so much as getting scorched, she'd rightly assume that the item was magical, or at least enchanted against damage. She would have been right, too, and although she probably couldn't have opened the chest, Rumplestiltskin still didn't want it falling in her hands.

After calling him, Dove delivered the chest to the house, where it was waiting when Rumplestiltskin came home from the shop early. Although he'd managed to forget about the chest in between waking up, Belle still being Lacey, and the fire, he was now extremely glad to see that it had survived. He beat Belle and Gabrielle—trying to call her Renee, at least within his own mind, was something of a losing battle—home by a few minutes. They returned with Dove in tow, with Belle and Dove both dumping their newest purchases in the front room to join the others that had clearly been dropped off earlier.

Rumplestiltskin offered Dove one of Gold's rare smiles. "Thank you, Dove," he said with a nod.

"Glad to help, boss," was the easy reply; Dove was a man of few words, and he had been the only one who knew that Belle (or Lacey, technically) was living with Gold until today. Oh, others would figure it out quickly enough, but Dove was the only one who Rumplestiltskin actually trusted with the hint that Lacey was far more than a live-in maid. Dove's loyalty, however, was beyond reproach. He wasn't just Gold's all-around troubleshooter; he had also served Rumplestiltskin in the same capacity back in the Enchanted Forest, although Dove obviously did not remember that. So, Rumplestiltskin had no worries that Dove would suddenly turn elsewhere when his original personality started to assert itself.

Even back home, Dove had been one of the very few people whom Rumplestiltskin trusted with knowledge that his wife even existed. It was rather fitting that he did the same here.

The tall man left the family alone with another brusque nod; Belle gave him a smile and a kiss on the cheek before he departed, obviously remembering him, too. Back in the Enchanted Forest, Dove had been a strangely long-lived shapeshifter. He'd originally been a man, though he'd been cursed into dove form by the sorcerer whom Rumplestiltskin had taken the Dark Castle off of centuries earlier. The Dark One had not discovered Dove's existence until he'd been in the castle for a long time, and he'd only turned him back into human form (temporarily, it turned out) on a whim. The enchantment on Dove was powerful, and it had taken Rumplestiltskin years to discover how to break it. By then, Dove had already become his jack of all trades, and was quite content with being able to choose between his human and avian forms. So, Rumplestiltskin had left control of his form in Dove's hands, and had never regretted the loyalty that bought him.

Dove had always been good with Gabrielle, too. She'd had Dove wrapped around her little finger back home, and it looked like Renee was already fond of him here in Storybrooke, even after only having known him for two days. But Rumplestiltskin was glad to see it; huge shapeshifter or no, Dove had always been good with children. He'd been the only person Rumplestiltskin had trusted with Gabrielle's existence in the Enchanted Forest, and cursed or not, Rumplestiltskin knew he could trust him here.

"Up!" Renee toddled over to him to demand.

Inwardly cursing his bad leg, Rumplestiltskin leaned his cane against the wall and bent to pick his three year old up. He could balance her on his left hip well enough, provided he was careful, but it was a technique he'd long ago perfected with Bae. He'd just never thought he'd need to use it again, or at least not after becoming the Dark One. Still, the grim irony inherent in that thought vanished when Renee wrapped her arms around his neck. It was amazing how quickly Renee had embraced him as a part of her life; after two days in his home, she already seemed to have decided that she belonged.

"Did you buy anything interesting?" he asked with a smile.

"Lots!" she declared, and Rumplestiltskin chuckled as he glanced Belle's way.

"I fear we may have put a serious dent in your bank account," his wife said, blushing a little.

"Sweetheart, do you have any idea how rich I am?"

"Um. No?" Belle shrugged, bending to pick up a bag of dolls and other toys. "I guess I never asked."

Retrieving his cane, Rumplestiltskin limped over to kiss his wife on the cheek. "Let's just say that I don't need to spin gold in this world," he murmured. "Besides, I did tell you to buy whatever you wanted."

"I think we went a little overboard," she admitted.

"No such thing. Did you find a new crocodile?"

"We did. The last one that the Wonderful Toymaker had, actually," Belle replied, even as Renee piped up:

"This one's bigger!"

"And better?" he asked his daughter.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Uh huh."

"That's wonderful, princess," Rumplestiltskin replied, and then settled Renee down on the couch and turned on the television. Renee's new favorite movie was Aladdin, and like any three year old, she could watch her favorites a hundred times in a row before she got sick of them, so he pushed play and let the movie pick up where it had left off the day before. After all, it wasn't like he had to worry about Belle's daughter receiving an insufficient education; she'd undoubtedly be reading long before anyone else her age. She'd always been bright, and Rumplestiltskin wasn't worried about television changing that.

Leaning over, he kissed her on the forehead and turned back to Belle once Renee was engrossed. "Did you see what else Dove brought by?"

"No, I…" Turning made her trail off. "The chest! I'd completely forgotten—but it was in my apartment all along, wasn't it?"

"And it didn't burn, of course," Rumplestiltskin replied, coming over to stand next to his wife. It damn well better not have, with all the protections I wove around it.

Belle turned to him with a glowing smile. "Should we open it?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he said softly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Go on."

The chest was keyed to open for either one of them, an intricate act of blood magic that had taken weeks to assemble, so Belle crouched to open press her hand against what looked like a lock on the front. It wasn't, and no keys or lock picking would have opened it, either. Even if Cora had gotten ahold of the chest, she would never have been able to pry it open without magic. Still, Rumplestiltskin was glad not to have to take that risk, because inside that chest were the few items so valuable to them that neither Rumplestiltskin nor Belle wanted to trust the curse to bring them over. No, they'd depended upon his magic for that. And because they'd known that Cora would probably not put them together, Rumplestiltskin had tied the chest to Belle, to make sure that it would follow her. After all, Cora was bound to watch him closely and ignore her, and the tactic had worked.

He felt the slight snap of magic in the air, and noticed how Renee twitched slightly, obviously feeling it but not knowing what that slight tickle was. The chest clicked open after a second or two, and Belle lifted the top to reveal the precious possessions they had decided they could not do without. Their chipped cup sat on top…right next to a glowing purple vial of True Love potion.

That same morning, two days after the fire—two blessedly Keith Law-free days—Cora walked into the sheriff's station with that same former deputy on her heels. Emma had been talking to Ruby, who really was interested in stopping working for her grandmother (maybe), but the spooked look on the waitress' face warned her that Cora had come in even though Emma's back was to the door. Keith was smirking, but Emma didn't care; she'd made her decision, and she wasn't going to change her mind no matter how much Cora tried to bully her. The fact that Keith had obviously waited until he was sober to go running to the mayor—Such a pity that he didn't interrupt her little dinner party!—was a bit worrisome, because Emma was sure that a sober Keith was a lying Keith.

Hell, he lied when he was drunk, too. At least the jerk was consistent.

She'd heard that a few of the firefighters found Keith passed out in the gutter the night she'd fired him, and had been kind enough to haul him home and pour him into his own bed. Knowing Keith, he'd spent most of the next morning puking, and then he must have gone to Cora. Why it had taken him a whole day to show up with her was a mystery, but Emma supposed that Keith was not exactly at the top of Cora's list of priorities. Not that she could blame the older woman for that. Cora was a bitch and an autocrat, but she wasn't stupid, and probably didn't like Keith any more than Emma did.

"Madam Mayor," Emma greeted her with a smile, feeling magnanimous now that she was on the hunt for a new deputy. Or two, maybe. She'd checked out the city budget the evening before, and apparently she actually had funding for three deputies. The books even indicated that Graham had possessed three deputies in his early days as sheriff, but one had died in some accident (Daniel Hari, the dead husband who Mary Margaret almost never talked about), and the other was on a leave of absence (Gary Rathbone). That meant Emma could definitely hire one, maybe two, competent people, and that made her feel pretty good.

"I'll keep this short, Miss Swan," Cora replied imperiously. "You're not authorized to fire Deputy Law, so he's reinstated. Effective immediately."

"The hell I can't." Emma was on her feet and facing Cora before she even realized she wanted to move, but Ruby had backed up a step or two when Cora's eyes flashed. "I'm the sheriff. I can hire or—"

"You can hire, dear. That's what the city charter says. It says nothing about firing."

"You've got to be kidding me. It's implied," Emma snorted.

"But not explicitly stated," Cora replied with a smug smile. "And, more importantly, the City Council decided that you do not have such authority at yesterday's meeting."

"They what?" There was no way Cora could act that fast or could have the City Council wrapped that tightly around her finger. "I want to see that in writing."

"I thought you'd never ask," was the purred response, and Cora held out a folder in a perfectly-manicured hand.

Snatching it from her, Emma flipped the folder open and read the single sheet of paper inside with a sinking heart. Cora really did have all her bases covered, didn't she? The paper was a Finding by the Storybrooke City Council that although the sheriff could hire a qualified applicant in accordance with the City Charter, any firings would have to be approved by the City Council itself. The motion had passed by a slim margin, only two votes, but it had passed. The appropriate signatures were there…and that meant Emma was stuck. With Keith.

"This is ridiculous," she said around the sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Welcome to Storybrooke, Miss Swan," Cora replied congenially, but her eyes were flashing. "We're a small town, and we do care about one another. That means we can't have a newcomer replacing our trusted police force with her own toadies."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

Cora smiled acidly. "Well, it certainly isn't now." She turned to Keith. "Congratulations, Deputy Law. Do please let me know if the Sheriff tries to do anything else illegal. I'm sure that the City Council would be happy to replace her."

"My pleasure," Keith replied, throwing a nasty look at Emma.

All she could do was glare back at her deputy while Cora sauntered out.

The third day after the fire—December 15th—found Rumplestiltskin in his shop once more. As much has he would have preferred to just close the pawnshop entirely and spend all of his time with Belle and Gabrielle, he knew that he couldn't; appearances had to be maintained, and besides, the shop was his connection to the outside world. No one came there unless they needed something, but he had already noticed several individuals expressing interest in items that had belonged to them before the curse. It was a small thing, but important: one of the dwarves—the one most recently released from the asylum, Grumpy—kept coming back to stare at the drinking steins, David Nolan had been by to look at the unicorn mobile, and there were others.

What surprised him most, however, was that Regina hadn't been by since the fire. Her boy had been caught in the library with Belle, Rumplestiltskin knew, and Regina was likely both shaken and furious, but that usually brought her to him. She certainly couldn't turn to Cora—not when her mother's actions had nearly killed her son—but he'd not come to him, either. That set him on edge when he headed out to collect rents that afternoon, deciding that he'd do so early and then head home. Belle was still only a mediocre cook, even with Lacey's knowledge to back her, and any time spent at home with his family was far more pleasant than staying in the shop.

There was something about watching the two of them that reminded Emma of two dangerous animals circling one another, but for the life of her, she couldn't' figure out which was predator and which was prey. The mayor and the pawnbroker had met on the sidewalk outside the sheriff's station, and although Emma could see them through the window, she couldn't hear what they were saying. Gold, however, seemed utterly unfazed by Cora's threatening smile, unlike everyone else in this odd little town. Even Regina knuckled under when her mother pressed. Everyone was afraid of the mayor.

Except Gold. What was it about the shady pawnbroker that frightened people? Emma had only met him twice, back when she'd made that deal with him and when he'd suggested she put herself in for sheriff, and she'd meant to ask Regina about Gold after both encounters but never had. Now, watching Gold smile at Cora coolly, she doubled up on that mental note. Henry thought Gold was 'the Beast' from his book, but that meant nothing to Emma. She wanted to know what this smooth-talking pawnbroker was really up to.

"A live-in maid?" Cora was asking, amusement evident in her tone. "Really, Gold? That's a terribly slender pretext, even for you."

Rumplestiltskin let his cold smile color his quiet chuckle. "Oh, I assure you, dear. I'm getting my money's worth."

Those words would travel, he knew, but he kept his aloof expression in place. People would think that Gold had hired Lacey French to be much more than a maid; his cursed self was almost as easy to think the worst of as Rumplestiltskin himself was. They would think poor Lacey his concubine, or worse. As distasteful as that assumption was, however, it would keep Belle and Gabrielle safe. So, he didn't care if people in Storybrooke thought him a monster. I am a monster, anyway. What does it matter if they come to the right conclusions for all the wrong reasons?

"Oh, come now." Cora smiled, stepping in close, her voice now low and dangerous. "We both know you're not that cold-blooded."

"Perhaps you don't know me as well as you think." Rumplestiltskin shrugged, ignoring the insinuation in her voice. It was a very Gold-like thing to say, slippery and evasive, but suspicion glinted in Cora's eyes, anyway. A shiver ran down Rumplestiltskin's spine. He had to be careful.

"I think I know you quite well," she purred, reaching out to toy with the front of his suit jacket, brushing aside imaginary dust. Rumplestiltskin burned to slap her hand away, but a part of him was as paralyzed as Gold would have been. Cora would make him pay for such a blatant act of defiance later, and he desperately wanted to go home to his family that evening.

"You know how I love a good mystery," he replied with a sharp smile, but then his heart sank as Cora returned to the topic he was trying so valiantly to avoid.

"And here I thought you would have uncovered all of your new maid's mysteries already," she said, each word heavy with irony. And then she smiled. "Do tell me that you're going to make her get rid of the brat. I can't imagine you putting up with a squalling bastard in your lovely home for long."

The tendrils of the curse reached out for him as Cora spoke, and Rumplestiltskin stiffened as he felt them go to work. Had he not known who he was, Gold might well have succumbed to the pressure. Cora's power over all of Storybrooke might have actually forced him to comply. But maybe not. The curse was weakening—he could feel that now, and it felt like victory—and even Gold might have successfully fought against forcing his lover to give up her precious child. But that didn't matter. Nor did the pleasant images of Cora's head ripped off of her shoulders and bouncing down the street running through his mind. For once, the sliver of a soul inside him was in complete agreement with his curse: Cora needed to die, both to satisfy the raging need for vengeance and to protect his family. But no. Not now. For now what mattered was that not even the power of the Dark Curse could force him to obey her will. Not anymore.

"What, and deal with Miss French squalling instead?" Rumplestiltskin scoffed dismissively. "I'd rather deal with the child than that."

Cora scowled, but she couldn't use one of her caveats, and she obviously knew it. One could make him come to her and the other could govern his physical actions, but the latter—the 'now'—was short lived. Cora had found that out years earlier when she'd tried to send Gold in search of a certain dagger. Rumplestiltskin's alter ego had proven surprisingly obstinate, and Cora's hold could not last long enough to force him to find and deliver it. Protecting that dagger had been the one imperative that Rumplestiltskin had concentrated on imbuing in his memory-less self as the curse cloud engulfed him, and it had worked, much to Cora's displeasure.

Thwarting her, however, always came at a price.

"Let's discuss that," she said coldly, unnecessarily smoothing out his lapels. Her touch made him shiver. "Tonight, dear."

14 Years Before the Curse

Zelena had waited almost an hour for this audience, but she didn't mind. Her mother was a queen, after all, and was undoubtedly busy. Zelena wished she'd known about Queen Cora sooner, but until the Wizard had told her about her real mother, she'd had no way to know. Her drunk of an adopted father had certainly never had the courage to tell Zelena that she was descended from royalty, but wouldn't he be envious of her now? Zelena smoothed her dress out one last time, making sure that she looked her best. She was going to impress her mother. She knew it.

Finally, the herald announced her, and Zelena strode into the throne room, trying not to gawk. Even the Wizard's palace had not been so luxurious; she didn't think anywhere in Oz was! The two figures seated on the thrones were majestic and so very regal looking, both dressed in clothing that would have cost over a year of her adopted father's wages. The beautiful woman must be my mother, she thought, striding forward with her head held high. She is so regal. I take after her. I know it.

Sweeping a graceful curtsey, Zelena kept her head down, waiting for her mother to address her. Surely Queen Cora knew about her! Or maybe she'd only wondered what had happened when someone stole her child away. Because Zelena knew she must have been stolen away. Nothing else could explain why she'd been given up, and her mother was sure to recognize her. Much to her surprise, it was the king—her stepfather—who spoke up kindly, while her mother looked on with detached aloofness.

"And who are you, My Lady?"

"My name is Zelena," she said with a smile, looking up to meet those welcoming eyes. "I've come from Oz to—"

A twitch of her mother's fingers cut her off; Zelena felt magic race out and shock took her breath away. No matter that everyone in the room—guards, heralds, and even the king—were frozen. She wasn't alone! She had inherited her magic from her mother. The Wizard had told her that her mother had married a king, not that Cora was a witch. A sorceress. Just like her. See, Papa, it isn't unnatural, Zelena thought spitefully, victory surging through her bones. She was her mother's daughter, and pride made her straighten and finish strongly:

"I've come to find my mother."

"Of course you have," Cora replied, rising from her throne and stepping gracefully off the dais. "But whatever made you think that a royal audience was the time to approach me?"

The censure in her mother's tone made Zelena flinch. "I—I couldn't speak to you another time. There was no other way. They wouldn't let me in."

"Are you trying to ruin me, you silly girl?"

"No!" The very thought horrified her, and Zelena stared. "I only wanted—I thought—I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Calculation whipped across Cora's features, but settled on a smile that warmed Zelena's heart. "Of course I am, dear. But you can't simply barge in and tell my husband the king that I have a child he did not know about."

"Of course not," Zelena agreed quickly, too stung by the rebuke to notice the self-centered insincerity in Cora's voice. "I'm sorry."

Cora reached her side and patted her arm, and Zelena felt a smile tugging on her own lips. "I can see that. I don't doubt that you'll be a dutiful daughter, Zelena, but we must act with caution. I can allow nothing to damage my power base. If that happens, I will not be able to help you. Do you understand?"

"I think I do," she replied eagerly. She wants to help me! Zelena could already imagine herself bedecked in jewels, with some handsome prince twirling her on the dance floor. She would make her mother proud. She knew it. "My adopted family, they never understood me," she volunteered. "My magic—"

"You have magic?" Suddenly, Cora looked very interested.

"Yes." Seeing her mother pleased made Zelena glow happily.

"Then I know exactly what to do with you," her mother said with another smile. "We must keep your identity secret for now—our secret—but I can send you to someone so that you might learn to use your magic."

"You won't teach me yourself?" She tried to hide her disappointment, but it was hard.

"Darling, I am Queen. My husband depends upon me to help manage the kingdom," Cora pointed out, and Zelena made herself nod. Of course. Her mother was undoubtedly too busy. But then Cora added: "Besides, I can send you to the most powerful sorcerer in the Enchanted Forest. He taught me, and I know he will teach you, too."

"He will?" Mother is going to send me to her teacher! Zelena thought excitedly, happiness like she'd never felt warming her soul. She would do everything she could to make Cora proud.

"I am sure he will." There was a twinkle in Cora's eyes, and Zelena imagined her mother was as happy to be reunited with her as she was. "Just tell Rumplestiltskin that you are my first born daughter. I know he will be delighted to teach you."

Renee had been in bed for hours by the time the front door opened, but Belle was still awake. Although she'd been curled up on the couch reading a book, she was on her feet the instant she heard a key turn in the lock, The Count of Monte Cristo completely forgotten. She met her husband in the front hall as he closed the front door behind himself, leaning more heavily than usual on his cane. Belle's heart went out to him; she could see the tension in his shoulders and in the way his hands were trying to shake, just the way she'd seen Gold fighting back pain and fear a hundred-plus times.

"Rumple," she breathed, and at least he walked straight into her arms and didn't try to pull away like Gold sometimes did to Lacey.

"Oh, Belle," he whispered, and she could hear the catch in his voice.

Holding him tightly, Belle came up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. Fury made her heart pound in her ears, but now wasn't the time for that. Lacey had always known that Cora hurt Gold, but she had never realized how bad it was. Gold hadn't wanted to tell her, and then Rumplestiltskin had stayed away to keep her and their daughter safe, but Belle was no fool. She knew that Cora was hurting him worse and worse as time went by. Maybe that was because time was starting to move, or maybe Cora just sensed the curse weakening and wanted to lash out. Either way, Belle truly wanted someone dead for the first time in her life. She was usually the forgiving sort, but this was beyond the pale. How could one human being do that to another?

"Are you all right?" she asked, wishing she knew something more useful to say.

Her husband laughed mirthlessly. "Better now," he said quietly, but he didn't let go of her right away, and Belle felt his shoulders shake. "I love you."

"And I love you," Belle replied fiercely. "And I'll be here for you, no matter what that horrible woman does to you."

"I know." Rumplestiltskin's voice was small and tight, but at least he nodded. Belle leaned back slightly to cut his face in her right hand, keeping her left arm around him.

"Tell me it won't be much longer," she whispered more desperately than she wanted to. "I can't bear watching her hurt you."

He snorted. "Our Savior's a bit more stubborn than any of us expected, but the curse is weakening. We're getting there, sweetheart. And even if it takes months more…this is a small price to pay if it gets us to Bae."

"This isn't a price for your actions, Rumple," Belle cut in before he could continue, knowing her husband far too well. "You don't deserve this, no matter what mistakes you have made. Don't think like that. Do you hear me? You do not deserve this."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, and when he apologized like that, Belle knew he was worn out and hurting so badly. So, she just took his left hand in her right.

"Let's get you upstairs, okay? Maybe then you'll tell me about what happened."

Rumplestiltskin's expression closed off as he limped forward, and she thought she detected a certain stiffness in his motions that was not normal. "I don't want to talk about it, sweetheart."

"I can't help you if I don't know, Rumple."

"I don't need help!" The words came out with force that seemed to surprise him as much as they did Belle, but she could see him desperately crawling inside his shell even as he opened his mouth to apologize for the outburst. She cut him off with a look.

"Rumple."

He sighed, turning away to stare at the kitchen. "I'm sorry."

"I know," she said softly, stepping forward so that her right shoulder brushed his left. Belle burned to wrap an arm around his waist, but knowing Cora, that would hurt him, so she settled with leaning her head lightly against his shoulder and not letting go of his hand. "Will you trust me?"

"Of course I will." And at least that made him finally look back at her.

"Then let me help you."

Suddenly, she was in his arms again, and Belle could feel Rumplestiltskin's face buried in her hair. His cane clattered to the floor, and his grip was desperately tight. But she didn't complain. She just let him cling to her, wrapping her arms around him in exchange and holding him close.

"I'll try," he whispered, and Belle could hear the pain in his voice. "It's just hard. I'm just…"

"Scared," she finished for him. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You'd have to be inhuman not to be—and don't tell me you're a monster. You're not."

She could hear his watery laugh against her neck. "It hurts," Rumplestiltskin admitted. "Everything just…hurts."

Stroking his hair and holding him close, Belle made no mention of her own desire to see Cora dead. Mentioning it now was meaningless, but the same woman who had nearly killed Belle and her daughter was torturing the man she loved. Cora had to be stopped, and more than that, Belle wanted revenge. It was such an alien feeling to her, to feel this strong and hot burn for vengeance, but she wasn't going to stand by and let Cora hurt Rumplestiltskin. Not any longer than she had to. They'd get the curse broken, and then they'd stop her. Together.

Inconclusive. Emma stared at the report in front of her—the one Errol Forrester had snuck her a copy of since the mayor didn't seem to think that the investigation was the sheriff's business. Despite the fact that there was some evidence that the doors had been locked (the report said 'some' because what remained of the doors had seemed to be locked in the immediate aftermath of the fire, but when the photographer had gone around the day after, what remained of them hadn't been locked at all), apparently there was 'nothing the slightest bit suspect' about the fire. Despite the four different point sources for the fire that could definitely be identified, plus two others the firefighters suspected. It was ridiculous, and stank of a cover up, but if the D.A. wasn't willing to press charges, which he wasn't, and Emma didn't have any evidence pointing to any one in particular, there was nothing she could do.

Errol had obviously felt that there was something fishy about the fire he'd so brazenly jumped into, but his conclusions seemed to have been watered down by the district attorney's office, too. The only good thing about the entire mess was that it had at least cleared Lacey French of any wrongdoing, which meant that the town would finally have to pay for all of her burned belongings. Cora would hate that, so Emma supposed it was something of a victory.

Still, the whitewashed investigation was a steaming pile of crap, and Emma felt angrier about that than she did about having to rehire Keith. Cora really did like her power games, and Emma was starting to think that there really was something very wrong with this town. Something more than she'd thought before.

4 ½ Years Before the Curse

Two months after Regina helped Snow escape Cora, she and David finally arrived at King George's palace. They'd been on the run for that entire time, sometimes barely ahead of Cora's henchmen. They'd saved one another time and again, and had Cora's Huntsman/Captain of the Guard deliberately avoid tracking them at least twice. Snow was so grateful for the Huntsman letting them go, and she so wished that she could thank him, but the Huntsman had faded back into the trees both times before she could get a word in edgewise, leading the hunt away from her. Regina had warned her that Cora had the Huntsman's heart, so the only guess Snow had was that her stepmother had ordered him to find her, and had not been specific enough that the Huntsman had to bring Snow back after doing so. Having had her heart ripped out and having been commanded by Cora, Snow knew how the Huntsman must feel, and she pitied him.

Perhaps someday we can help him in return, she thought as she followed David into the council chamber. His father, King George, was waiting for them, and though Snow felt that she looked like anything but her best after two months on the run, she strode into the room with her head held high. Dressed like a bandit though she might be, Snow knew she was still a princess—and technically, now that her beloved father was dead, a queen.

"Ah, my son returns!" George turned to them with a smile that was only skin deep. Snow had been in politics practically since birth, and she could read even a seasoned politician. George greeted David with pleasure, but he felt little affection for this second son of his. I wonder why he sent David away? Snow knew she might never be able to ask; David had sworn her to secrecy on the subject, but she hoped someday to know the answer.

"Hello, Father," David replied, and the same stiffness was in him. He clearly wasn't sure what to think of George, either. "Please allow me to re-introduce—"

"Princess Snow." Stepping forward, George took her hand, dirty and unkempt though it was and kissed the back lightly.

"Your Majesty." Managing a proper curtsey when wearing a bandit's ragged outfit was hard, but Snow did her best. "Thank you for taking me in. I owe you my life."

"Indeed you do," the king replied with a smug smile. His sharp eyes, however, studied Snow closely. "Your stepmother has declared you are guilty of treason, treachery, and murder. She says you committed regicide."

Snow stiffened, but she had spent months mourning her beloved father and had learned to move past it. Now she wanted revenge on the woman who had killed him. "My stepmother is a sorceress," she retorted. "She poisoned my father and blamed me."

"Good!" George praised her. "You say that very convincingly. Stick to that story and we'll have no problems making the people of both of our kingdoms believe it."

"It's true!"

"Princess, I don't care who killed your father. I care that you—and my son—are going to inherit that throne and combine our kingdoms," the king replied with a shrug. "Your claims of innocence are enough for me."

He didn't believe her. Snow stared incredulously at George for a long moment, and then turned helplessly to David. He looked less surprised than she felt—maybe he was used to George's cold-blooded outlook on the world—but Snow just didn't know what to say. She'd never had a king doubt her like this, and she certainly hadn't expected him not to care if she was innocent or not. But he really didn't, did he? And he's right. It doesn't matter. Taking a deep breath, Snow steeled herself against the thousand accusations that she knew would eventually come her way. What matters is saving my kingdom from Cora, Snow decided, and was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't notice that David had moved to her side until he took her hand.

"Father, perhaps we should give the princess some rooms and time to rest before we start making strategic plans," he suggested quietly.

"Of course. You are welcome in our home, Princess. We will begin planning your wedding after you feel better."

"Planning my what?" Snow demanded.

"Did you think I would help you for free?" George asked bluntly. "Hardly. Political alliances are not made for reasons of mutual liking. They are made for reasons of mutual benefit. You need your kingdom back. I have an army, and I want an alliance."

"Of course you do," she replied, looking her future father-in-law in the eye. "And so do I. I will sign a betrothal contract if you like, but I will not marry until my kingdom is retaken."

That seemed to bring George up short, and he looked at her appraisingly. "Very wise of you. I begin to have hopes for intelligent grandchildren."

Snow sighed. "I bet you do."

They thought they were being so subtle, and it would have been rather hilarious if it was not so sad. Just looking at the pair of them made Regina's heart ache…both for herself and for her sister. Mary Margaret Blanchard didn't know that she was in love with David Nolan, and they were both trying so hard to deny their feelings for one another. David—bless his silly little heart—thought he should be in love with Regina. The curse told him that he should be, and even if Regina told him he was absolutely free to pursue Mary Margaret, his sense of honor probably wouldn't let him. Not yet.

Even if he did, do-gooding, gentle Mary Margaret probably would tell him no. She had all of Snow's heart and none of Snow's courage…and Cora really had turned her into a mouse. Just watching her like this hurt, and Regina burned to see her stepsister grab a hold of life by the horns and do something. Mary Margaret tended to wait for life to kick her in the face instead of fighting back, and Regina hated seeing her like this. If this isn't reason to break the curse, I don't know what is.

"Really?" Snow's voice carried as she laughed. "I didn't know that about you."

"Most people don't," David replied with an answering chuckle from the next table. The two idiots had been meeting 'accidentally' at 7:15 each day for at least a week, both stopping in before they headed to work. So far, there was no evidence that either realized that they were doing it on purpose, but they certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"You're trusting me with your secrets already?" her sister teased Regina so-called husband lightly, grinning. "That sounds dangerous."

Then again, maybe Snow was in there somewhere.

"Regina?" another voice asked, and Regina turned so fast that she almost knocked down the barstool to her right down. Eyes wide, she faced the handsome firefighter who had rescued her son, not quite knowing what to say or how to even start saying it. She was undeniably attracted to Errol Forrester, no matter how much she told herself she shouldn't be. Regina knew that her mother would lash out if she even suspected that Regina might actually like someone…but she couldn't help herself.

Nor could she stop the smile that warmed her expression. "Hi."

A/N: Cora still has too much power, and now she knows about Lacey. What do you think she'll do about having competition?

Next up is Chapter Twenty-Six: "Pieces in Play," where Emma goes to Gold for help with a restraining order, someone attacks Emma, and Cora threatens to crush someone's heart. Back in the past, Rumplestiltskin forms some opinions on Zelena, Snow and Charming discuss the future, Belle wonders why her husband insists on keeping her existence a secret, and Cora runs into Will Scarlet and Anastasia.