Chapter Thirty-Four—"Worth Dying For"
3 Years Before the Curse
Belle had been curious after Rumple told her that Regina had been forced to give her stepsister the cursed apple. She still disliked having to hide her marriage to Rumplestiltskin, although she better understood the need to do so now that they had a beautiful three week old daughter. Still, she wanted to know what was going on, and Rumple had explained to her how to use the crystal ball several months ago. So, she focused her thoughts on the princess she had never met, the woman who would ensure that their world could be rescued from the terrible curse Belle's husband had written. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that curse, not all the time, but Rumple had assured her that no one would really be hurt by it, even if they'd have to endure some misery along the way. And at least he would make sure that the curse would be broken—he promised her that, promised her that he'd never let it be cast if the Dark Curse would last forever.
Smoke shimmered within the crystal ball, slowly revealing a young woman trapped within a glass coffin. Her beautiful face was contorted with fear, and as Belle watched, she started screaming hoarsely. Belle could barely hear anything across this distance, but the magic of the crystal ball brought the screams through as ghostly whispers, present but not jarring at all. Swallowing, Belle watched as Princess Snow's hands came up, trying to push someone or something away that only existed inside her nightmares. She was crying out for someone, now, or several someones. Belle thought she heard a few different names before the princess started wailing apologies.
"What are you doing, sweetheart?" a voice asked from behind her, and Belle turned as a pair of scaled hands landed gently on her shoulders.
"I just wanted to see what was happening," Belle answered honestly, looking deeply into her husband's eyes. Yes, there was a slight shadow of regret there, though she doubted that Rumplestiltskin felt bad for the suffering young princess. No, if he felt compassion for anyone, it was Regina, who Belle knew Rumple viewed almost like a daughter.
Not that he'd ever admit that.
"And you used magic to find out," he said approvingly, a sudden smile lighting up his face. "Gabi's asleep," Rumplestiltskin added before Belle could ask why that made him so happy. "Finally."
"I didn't think you'd have left her if she wasn't," she replied with an answering smile. "You're better at being a parent than I am, and she already loves your stories."
"I'm more practiced," he countered. "I wouldn't say better."
Belle chuckled, thinking of all the ways in which her husband had already taught her to be a parent. Without him, Belle would have been utterly lost; although her own mother had died not too many years earlier, she had been raised as a noblewoman. Nursemaids were a large part of her young life, and she had been brought up to expect to raise her own children the same way. Had she married Gaston, Belle had no doubt that would have been the case, but in the Dark Castle, it was just the two of them. Young as she was, Gabrielle would have been running her parents ragged if Rumplestiltskin had not already known how to be a single parent. Despite that, they were both still very tired.
"I think you're wonderful," she told him, leaning into his chest. Immediately, Rumplestiltskin's arms wrapped around her, and Belle smiled tiredly. She was still interested in young Princess Snow's plight, but for the moment, it felt nice to relax in her husband's embrace. "What will happen to her?"
"Her prince will find me before too long," Rumplestiltskin replied. "I'll send him through the gauntlet to find her, and his kiss will wake her."
"That easy?"
"Oh, no. Cora's tasked all kinds of creatures with guarding her," he snorted out a laugh. "He'll have to earn it."
Belle frowned. "That sounds terrible."
"True Love must be fought for," her husband reminded her, and then relented. "Oh, all right. I'll help him, sweetheart. Not too much, but I'll make sure he makes it through. After all, I can't very well use the product of their True Love if the prince and princess never marry, now, can I?"
"I suppose not," she allowed, and then tipped her head back to look at him, another smile tugging at her lips. "You don't have to pretend to be heartless. I know you aren't."
Rumplestiltskin just scoffed. "I'm the Dark One, dearie. That should tell you all you need to know."
"Don't call me that," Belle retorted, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. She'd known Rumplestiltskin long enough now to know that he only called someone 'dearie' when he sought to belittle them; no one he truly respected was ever called that. Unless he did it automatically. Belle knew that the word sometimes slipped out when he didn't mean it to, along with his condescending attitude. Every now and then, Rumplestiltskin's formidable intelligence bled over into an annoying amount of arrogance, but Belle was always able to bring him back to ground.
Now he had the grace to look abashed. "My apologies."
"I love you anyway," Belle told him, but not before giving him a slightly reproachful look.
"And I love you," Rumplestiltskin replied, bending his head to kiss her hair. Belle leaned into his kiss, wishing for a moment that they could go to Amorveria and she could actually kiss him once more. But now they had a daughter, and Rumplestiltskin had a mission, so she needed to be content with the life she had.
Somehow or another, his love for Belle had gotten the better of his common sense. Then again, Rumplestiltskin supposed that the entire town already thought the worst of his relationship with her, so what did they have to lose? Particularly once we go through with marrying in this world; then, even a cursed Storybrooke will know we're together. So, he bowed to Belle's wishes and took her out to lunch, leaving Renee with Dove and his girlfriend, the only people they dared trust with their little girl. But he knew Belle was feeling cooped up, particularly since her last foray out with Renee had turned into another argument with her father. After that last phone call, Rumplestiltskin had narrowly avoided marching over to Moe French's pathetic little shop and doing something he assuredly wouldn't regret, such as raising the rent, evicting him, or calling in the massive loan Moe French seemed to have forgotten he owed him. But his manipulative nature won out over the desire to play at being some ridiculous knight errant, and Rumplestiltskin forced himself to wait.
Thus, he found himself escorting Belle into Granny's diner, ignoring the shocked and hostile stares they—rather, he—received while they headed to a booth. Only Belle's small smile of thanks kept Rumplestiltskin on his best behavior, though at least he could take some solace in the fact that the curse had to be obviously weakening in order for people to be reacting like that. Still, they had a greater scandal than 'Gold and his Kept Woman' to discuss. The previous day's edition of the Daily Mirror had made Mary Margaret Blanchard out to be the most evil woman since Jezebel. Part of Rumplestiltskin had to appreciate the smooth manner in which Cora had pulled that little trick off, and the rest of him was just glad that Francis Scadlock wasn't writing such pieces about him and Belle.
Those will come in time, I'm sure, he thought as Ruby sauntered up. "Hi, Lacey," she said brightly, and then her smile faltered. "Mr. Gold."
"Hello, Ruby," Belle gave the waitress a glowing smile, and Rumplestiltskin found himself hoping that Belle wouldn't lose the friends she had made as Lacey because of him. He was a rather possessive person at his core, and his curse didn't make him any better, but he knew that Belle was a social creature and would miss those friends if they deserted her.
Of course they will. You're the Dark One, and none of them will understand how a woman like Belle could have chosen you. They'll assume you've corrupted her, enchanted her, forced her, the curse taunted him, its presence distant here without magic, but never distant enough. And if they do figure out the truth, they'll just hate her as much as they hate you.
A sudden hand on his arm made Rumplestiltskin's mind snap back into focus; Belle had finished ordering, and it was now his turn. Fortunately, the menu at Granny's hadn't changed for twenty-eight years, and he remembered what every Thursday special was. Even Gold had known them by heart, and Gold rarely came here, though he did order takeout periodically.
"A hamburger and fries will be fine, dear," he told Ruby distantly. However, the wolf was obviously starting to shine through, and she just gave him a pointed look.
"And to drink?" she prompted as Belle smiled slightly.
Scotch, he thought, but didn't say it. "Iced tea, if you please."
"Coming right up," Ruby replied, turning away promptly. But before she walked off, Rumplestiltskin caught the pitying glance she threw Belle's way. They all hate you, anyway. What does it matter?
His curse really needed to be quiet today.
"Are you all right?" Belle asked him quietly, her hand never leaving his arm.
Rumplestiltskin shook his head to clear it, and then spoke very softly. "I'm fine. It's just…noisy in my head today."
Fortunately, he needed to say nothing more; Belle understood how the voice of his curse could be sometimes. It had taken him years to explain it to her, but he finally had after Gabrielle's first birthday, and Rumplestiltskin was glad he had. Now she just shifted her hand to his own, squeezing gently and giving him a smile that always served to push back the darkness in his soul. He could lose himself in her blue eyes if he wasn't careful, could turn himself into some lovestruck idiot for all of Storybrooke to see. But he couldn't afford to let go that far, not yet. Particularly when Cora still thought Lacey was just some sort of concubine for him.
That pleasant thought made him pull his hand away from Belle's. She looked hurt for a moment, and then nodded reluctantly, fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers to give herself something to do with her hands.
"I feel sorry for Mary Margaret," she said after a moment, clearly looking for a safe topic for others to overhear.
"Because of Scadlock's scathing article?" he asked with a shrug. "They'll sort the truth out soon enough. I see no reason to get excited about it."
Or, they'd figure out the truth when the curse broke. Until then, Mary Margaret might be miserable, but that wasn't his problem. It would probably encourage Emma to break the curse faster, to believe just that much sooner, and that actually meant Mary Margaret's unhappiness could prove useful. Not that he was foolish enough to tell Belle that. She'd not be happy to hear him being so cold blooded.
"They're insinuating that she murdered her father," Belle pointed out with a frown. "If she didn't, that's a horrible accusation to have thrown at you. I heard a few people saying that she should lose her job over it."
"My, that would cause her problems," Rumplestiltskin reflected, thinking about the tens of thousands of dollars of debt that Cora had given her stepdaughter. To him, of course. Not that I need the money. Cora kept her promise on that front, at least.
"She's really starting to press, isn't she?" his wife asked quietly, her voice dropping so that he could barely hear her. "First—Oh. Hello, Mother Superior."
Belle cutting off in mid-sentence made Rumplestiltskin turn away from his wife to look at the annoying blue flea that he'd hated pretty much since meeting her. Time hadn't done anything to change that, and even if Reul Ghorm was dressed in a conservative nun's habit instead of a glitteringly provocative dress, her mere presence still got on his nerves. Particularly because I doubt she's any more oblivious than I am. If I could figure out a way around the curse, an original power certainly can. But even if she didn't remember, the damn woman had still interrupted his date with Belle, which automatically put Rumplestiltskin in a foul mood. He'd wanted to take Belle out for something nice, not deal with fairies.
"Miss French," Mother Superior greeted Belle primly, looking down her nose disapprovingly at 'Gold's Concubine'. Then she turned to face him, her sneer only deepening. "Mr. Gold."
"Did you want something, dearie, or are you just interrupting because you can?" he snapped, not even bothering to try to sound nice. Even Gold had hated the nuns—which, in Rumplestiltskin's opinion, said an awful lot about his cursed self's good sense.
"There's no need to be hostile. I simply wanted to talk to you about a problem at the convent," the infernal woman answered in her most pious voice. Of course, that innocent remark only made Rumplestiltskin look deeper into Blue's eyes, looking for any sign that she was remember. She met his gaze evenly, and he felt the invisible chess pieces moving between them.
Yes, she remembers, he decided. The only question is if she knows I do as well, or if the façade of a cold businessman fools her. Unfortunately, even Gold wouldn't have asked her if the convent had possibly burned down, and he certainly wouldn't have set it as hopefully as Rumplestiltskin would, so that option was out. So, he just smiled Gold's thin smile and shrugged casually.
"Well, it won't get fixed if you don't tell me more," he pointed out reasonably, and watched doubt flicker through Blue's eyes. Can't quite tell, can you, dearie? Rumplestiltskin thought gleefully, keeping his face a careful mask.
"Our hot water heater is leaking," she replied stiffly. "Sister Elara fears it may explode if not repaired soon."
"I'll send Dove by this afternoon. I presume that is acceptable?" Rumplestiltskin replied, and watched Mother Superior try not to scowl.
"Of course it will be. Thank you." If possible her manner became even more tense as she turned to face Belle, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Lacey, child, please remember that if you ever need sanctuary, for any reason"—she glanced Gold's way—"the convent is always open to you and your daughter."
Rumplestiltskin saw the alarm in Belle's eyes; the last time a fairy had tried to 'help' her, it had been the Cyan Fairy wanting to destroy their so-called demonspawned daughter. But he wasn't alarmed. He was furious, throttling back his curse with all of his might (which wasn't too much, as his own temper agreed with it), and burning to cut off the hand that had landed almost possessively on his wife's shoulder.
"Thank you, but I'm just fine," Belle replied tersely, shifting away from Mother Superior's hand. When the nun didn't let her escape so easily, Belle reached up and actually pushed the smaller woman's hand away. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at the fairy. "I am exactly where I want to be."
That made Blue blink. "I'm sure you are, child. Just keep us in mind."
"Right." The look Belle gave Mother Superior was certainly not friendly, and Rumplestiltskin finally spoke up again, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice.
"Is that all, dear? Our lunch is approaching, and it will improve without the addition of your unwelcome company."
Better for Gold to be the jerk and Lacey the helpless bystander. Besides, being able to verbally swat this annoying bug satisfied the urge to kill her for making Belle uncomfortable. The cutting comment did finally make Mother Superior huff, however, and her glare shifted to Rumplestiltskin.
"Do make sure Mr. Dove comes out, or we'll take the repair cost out of our rent," she snapped, turning on her heel and walking away.
Ruby's arrival prevented Rumplestiltskin from retorting the way he'd wanted to, although intellectually he knew that was probably a good thing. So, he stewed quietly as the wolf placed both their hamburgers in front of them, along with the iced tea they'd both ordered (in lieu of the stiff drink Rumplestiltskin really wanted now). He supposed that conversation would add some grist to the gossip mill, but if he hadn't been at loggerheads with Mother Superior, all of Storybrooke would figure something was up. The fact that Mother Superior had implied that Lacey was too frightened leave him still burned, however, and he was still fuming when Belle's hand landed on his again. Quickly looking up from where he'd been glaring at the tabletop, Rumplestiltskin noticed belatedly that Ruby was gone, and they were alone again.
Belle smiled slightly. "Don't tell me you're getting angry on my behalf," she teased him lightly.
"She's implying that you're my prisoner," he grumbled before he could stop himself.
"Well. You and I both know I'm not, and that's all that matters," his wife replied, squeezing his hand and smiling.
To hell with appearances. Rumplestiltskin was sosick of people deciding he was thatkind of monster, some despoiler of young woman and kidnapper of fair maidens. He'd never touched any one of the maids he'd dealt for until Belle, and he'd let her go because he'd started falling in love with her. He'd been involved with exactly one other woman since becoming the Dark One, and he'd certainly not been the demon in that relationship. So, he let Belle keep ahold of his hand, offering her a strained smile in return and squeezing her fingers back.
"Yeah," he said slowly, shoving his curse back into a box when it started to howl for the Blue Fairy's blood. One of these days, he'd probably give into that urge, but not today. "That is what matters. Now…you were saying something earlier? Before that rude interruption."
Belle bit her lip thoughtfully, and then gave him a somewhat sheepish look. "Right. I was just going to say that it's all starting to stack up. Graham's accident, then the fire. And then the attack on Emma and now this. How many people is she going to hurt before she stops?"
"Anyone she has to. Which is anyone she feels the need to take revenge upon," he replied with a shrug, not really feeling pity for any of them, particularly with his curse continuing to storm in the back of his mind. What did Mary Margaret have to worry about? A soiled reputation, a few debts? Rumplestiltskin knew that both could sting, but given his current position as Cora's punching bag, he had a hard time scraping up sympathy for her or the others.
"Someone has to stop her," Belle insisted, just as quietly but with the determination he so loved in her. Even when hated it.
He knew what she was getting at, so Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "My hands are tied. Sometimes literally," he added with a grimace he couldn't hold back, and then smiled to try to turn it into a quip. "If I get too involved, she'll certainly notice."
Was he a coward, to want to keep Cora from knowing he remembered, or was it common sense? Rumplestiltskin knew that he could do much more good working behind the scenes without Cora knowing that he was no longer just 'Gold', but were his fears contributing to that? He didn't know if knowledge of his identity would change the dynamic between him and Cora; it might make things better, but it might also make things much worse. And he knew that Belle and Renee would be in much more danger if Cora ever realized they were his actual family, and not just Gold's folly. No, it was safer to keep his head down as long as possible. He could best protect his family that way, even if it put him in a more painful position.
"Can't I do something?"
"Absolutely not," he answered quickly, throwing Belle a warning look and squeezing her hand tightly. "And not here," he added, knowing that she wouldn't let it go, but desperate to keep her from starting that argument in public.
Fortunately, one of the things that he'd always loved about Belle was her intelligence, and although Rumplestiltskin was certain that the topic would come up later, he could at least insure they discussed it in private.
"Cora's dangerous, B—sweetheart," he added, inwardly cursing himself for the near slip. Rumplestiltskin jerked his head left. "Look over there."
"At Emma and Graham?" she asked, cocking her head.
"Yes. Watch them."
Belle blinked, and then Rumplestiltskin saw realization dawn. His wife might never have shown a lot of interest in practicing magic, but she understood the theory better than most. "Oh, no. Cora still has…?"
"Indeed she does," he replied, his lips twitching in a cold smile. Oh, how he used to wish he'd never taught Cora that trick. Now Rumplestiltskin still wished that, but for very different reasons.
"How badly is that going to go?" Belle wondered, and Rumplestiltskin knew that she was talking about almost-budding romance between the former sheriff and the new one. He, on the other hand, had other problems in mind.
"Watch and find out," he said cryptically, and Belle shot him a questioning look, so he added: "She's using it. I can feel it."
There might be little magic in Storybrooke, but what there was, Rumplestiltskin could always feel. The closer he was, the more he sensed, and sitting three tables away from the Huntsman, he could definitely feel the tug of Cora's control over him.
Controlling someone via their heart was an art form. So many sorcerers never came to understand the ins and the outs of doing so, but Cora had perfected her methods over the years. They had called her the Queen of Hearts when she had first married Leopold, and although her foolish, enchanted husband had thought that was because Cora had stolen the hearts of his entire kingdom in a positive, loving way, he had been so very wrong. The peasants were always the first to know when someone was evil, and that was a lesson Cora had not forgotten despite her elevation to royalty.
Here in Storybrooke, controlling someone was a bit more complicated than it had been in a land with magic. She had to focus a lot harder, for one, and seeing through that individual's eyes took exponentially more effort. Even then, her vision was spotty at best, and hearing anyone whom the original owner of the heart was not directly focusing on was difficult. Still, it was better than nothing, and today she had a decent view of Granny's and the patrons.
Oh, look. Gold is there with his little doxy. How fascinating. But it was not Rumple—nor his shallower counterpart—who concerned her at the moment. No, her attention was focused on her Huntsman. Foolish man. He hadn't taken the accident as the warning that he should have, although Cora hadused his heart to force him to say that he'd forgotten the memories that kissing the Savior had started to awaken in him. Graham was still confused, the old memories were bubbling up through cracks in the new ones, and mixing the two together created a mess in his mind that Cora needed to do nothing to worsen. But he was also still defiant, albeit in small ways. Cora needed to teach him that pursuing Emma, that acting against his queen, would not be tolerated.
Starting today.
Graham was sitting across from Emma, smiling wanly at something the sheriff had said. Cora knew from her own conversations with Graham that the cripple was depressed, and rightly so. She'd contributed to that in her own way, but he had not taken the hint. Now she would force him to put distance between himself and the sheriff, because it would hurt Emma Swan…and because Cora did not like her servants finding happiness without her permission.
"So…now that we've dragged you out of your apartment for a second time, can I try for a third?" Emma asked as Cora watched through Graham's eyes.
Cora smiled to herself, and let Graham's own hesitation answer the next question. "I'm…well, um…"
"C'mon," the blonde savior coaxed him, reaching out for his hand, and Cora shifted her grip on Graham's heart, placing her fingers just so. "You've got friends who care about you. Don't shut us out."
There is my perfect opening. Cora smiled, squeezed Graham's heart slightly, and began to speak.
"Emma…" Graham said slowly, a strange expression crossing his face. "I don't think this is a good idea."
She blinked. "Don't think what is a good idea?"
"All of this. Us." He gestured vaguely, looking a little uncomfortable. "I'm not a good man, y'know? And you deserve better."
"Graham, I think that you're one of the few actual good men in this town," she replied immediately, because he was. Yeah, there were a few things that Emma wanted to ask him about—such as his involvement in the asylum, or what he knew about Leonard Blanchard's death—but she knew that Graham was a good man. She'd seen that repeatedly. He was just down on himself right now, and Emma wasn't going to let Graham dig himself into a hole like this.
"I'm not. Really. There are things I've done that would make you run away faster than I could blink."
Emma's heart was starting to hammer particularly hard against her ribcage. She'd known Graham was depressed, but this was going further than she thought it would. "Let me be the judge of that, okay?"
"No. I can't do that to you," her old boss replied, looking away.
"No?"
"Look, this is a bad idea. I'll get another ride home. I can't do this. I can't mess you up, too."
"What?" Emma couldn't help gaping. Things had been going well between her and Graham before the accident, and she thought they were finally getting back on track. Emma still wasn't sure what she felt for the former sheriff, but she knew that it was a feeling worth pursuing. Maybe she could fall in love with him if given the chance. He was a good man, and she liked him. Maybe this would end with a good friendship and laughter over the time they'd tried to fall in love and didn't. She had no way to know, and now it suddenly sounded like Graham didn't want to find out.
That was a huge change, and Emma was trying like hell not to let it hurt too much.
"Just…stay away from me for a while, okay? I don't want to start something right now," Graham replied, his eyes sad but determined.
"I thought we'd already started something," she replied stiffly.
She would not cry. She would not.
"No. And I'm sorry if I led you to believe that," he answered, pushing his wheelchair back from the table. "I'll find another ride home. Goodbye."
Utterly shocked, all Emma could do was stare as Graham wheeled himself out of the diner. She'd never been dumped by someone before she'd even started a relationship, and Graham hadn't given her a single sign that he wanted nothing to do with her before now! What the hell was wrong with him? Blinking back pain, Emma tried to force herself to think rationally about the situation. Graham was depressed. She knew that. A formerly fit and active man who suddenly found himself confined to a wheelchair after a lengthy coma was bound to be feeling off. Maybe she'd been pushing him too hard, too fast. I need to get him to talk to Archie, Emma decided, and that thought pushed away some of the pain.
Maybe Graham didn't want to get romantically involved, but that didn't mean that Emma wasn't still his friend. She wasn't in love with him, not yet, so that meant she could still think like a friend if she needed to. And right now, she had the feeling that Graham needed all the friends he could get.
Caring for someone means not giving up on them, she thought to herself, remembering someone else who had said that to her so many years ago…and then promptly left her to go to jail in his place. But Neal's actions had only driven that lesson home, hadn't it? He obviously hadn't cared enough not to break her heart, but Emma wasn't like that. She wouldn't give up on Graham.
School hadn't been any fun at all that day. Most of his classmates had been whispering about the previous day's article in the Daily Mirror, wondering if Ms. Blanchard really was a murderess. Henry knew they were all wrong, that it was the curse claiming Mary Margaret had been involved in her father's death because of what had happened in the Enchanted Forest, but he also knew that he couldn't tell the other kids that. They'd think he was crazy, but listening to them whisper only made him mad. We've got to get this curse broken, the ten year old thought as he walked towards the loft. Mary Margaret probably wouldn't be home yet, which meant he could talk to Emma about the curse without his depressed teacher around.
Henry didn't understand why she had been so quiet today. If she knew it wasn't true—and Mary Margaret seemed to—why was she so down? Mary Margaret knew about the curse, too; Henry had told her, and he knew she and Emma talked about it. So, why couldn't she just believe that none of this was her fault? Adults were so weird sometimes.
"Hey, Emma!" Henry knocked and then came through the loft door with a smile, finding his birth mother sitting at the table and staring blankly at a magazine.
"Hey, kid," she replied, but she sounded glum, too.
Dropping his bag and pulling the Book out, Henry plopped into the seat in front of Emma and slammed his book down on the table to get her attention. Emma looked up, her eyes wide and startled for a moment before she glared at him.
"Hi," he said again, grinning at her.
Emma sighed. "What's up, Henry?"
"I wanted to talk to you about the curse," he answered, glancing down at his Book and biting his lower lip. "Things are getting bad. I know good is supposed to win over evil, and I thought we were doing okay, but I think that the Evil Queen is going to do something bad. I think she's started with Ms. Blanchard."
"Well, someone's done something awful to her, anyway," Emma replied. "Though I'm not sure we can blame your curse for this one."
Henry stared. How many things had to happen before Emma would open her mind and believe? This was crazy! "Of course it's the curse. Why else would everyone start hating Mary Margaret when she's not guilty? They should be on her side!"
"That's just human nature, kid. People…people like scandals, and they like to make mountains out of molehills," his birth mother told him, looking uncomfortable. "You don't need a curse to make people miserable. Most people can do that just fine by themselves."
"Are you okay?" Henry asked, looking at her drawn face.
"Yep. Just fine."
He might have been only ten, but even Henry could tell that was a lie. "You know, I think I inherited your superpower," he told her bluntly. "'Cause I know that's not true."
"Really funny."
"It wasn't supposed to be," Henry answered seriously. "But I know I'm a kid. If you don't want to tell me, it's okay."
That kind of comment almost always worked on all three of his parents, and it didn't fail him now, either. Emma just sighed, her shoulders drooping and blonde hair falling to obscure her face. "I'm worried about Mary Margaret. She's taking this really hard."
"She's Snow White. She's strong. She'll be okay, especially with you here for her. At least she isn't alone anymore."
"Yeah, she isn't," Emma replied, and Henry thought he saw a hint of a smile on her face. He'd come to talk to her about the curse, but making sure Emma was okay helped break the curse, too. She was the Savior, and she had to be okay in order for the curse to get broken. Otherwise, everything might fall apart. "You're a good kid, Henry. Don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise."
"Grandma is the only one who does, and I don't believe much of anything she says," he said with a grin, and Emma finally laughed.
"I shouldn't say this, but that sounds like a really good idea."
Maybe Emma was getting somewhere with believing. When she'd first arrived in Storybrooke, she would have told Henry that he shouldn't say such things about Cora, but now she at least believed that Cora was evil. She might not fully believe in the curse just yet, but they were getting somewhere. Slowly.
2 Years, 11 Months Before the Curse
A month of searching had brought David no closer to finding Snow than he had been the day she had left to meet Regina. His scouts had combed the southern half of Snow's kingdom, and George's spies at Cora's court were frantically working to uncover her location as well. So far, no one had found anything, and David was growing increasingly concerned. He'd even tried to contact Regina, praying she hadn't suddenly decided to side with her mother, but she had so far ignored the messages he sent through George's contracts. George was convinced that meant Regina had chosen Cora over Snow, but David had a hard time believing that. Regina had risked everything to rescue Snow and to help the two of them escape. Why would she betray them now?
But he was growing more worried by the day. No, by the hour. David had just returned to the castle that had somehow become home after almost a month of personally directing the search, and was surprised to find himself invited into George's presence immediately. Usually, the king was much more directive; he treated David more like a subordinate than a son, although he was at least meticulous about training David to one day rule in his place. And George had been kinder recently, or at least less abrasive. They even agreed that Snow needed to be found, and although he knew that George had made that decision for political rather than personal reasons, David still appreciated it.
He also appreciated that his mother had been moved to a very nice house on the outskirts of the city, allowing her to stop the backbreaking work of trying to run the farm by herself. She was happy there, and well provided for, and although David missed her desperately, he supposed that his position wasn't terribly different from anyone else who took on a trade and moved away from home. Although I don't most people take on royalty as a trade, the prince thought to himself, striding into George's council chamber.
"You wanted to see me?" he asked, surprised to find George alone.
"This arrived for you." The king extended folded piece of paper, still sealed with was. That was a surprise, but perhaps George just wanted him to open it in his presence? Still, this was a definite improvement in their relationship.
"Thank you," David said as courteously as he could, taking the letter and breaking the wax seal. Quickly, he took in the one line on the page, noticing that it had obviously been written in haste, with a trio of haphazard ink blots staining the page. David didn't recognize the handwriting, but he knew who it had to be.
Snow is not in either of our kingdoms. Look to the east.
"Well?" George demanded as David read the missive for a third time.
"This has to be from Regina," he replied, handing over the letter. George read it rapidly, still frowning. "She's the only one who would know."
"Your confidence in the 'Dark Princess' may be misplaced. Tread carefully—Cora is not above such tricks, son. She might be drawing you into a trap."
David's eyebrows shot up despite his best efforts to control them. He was fairly sure that was the most affectionate thing George had ever said to him without an audience present, and it was kind of unnerving. Still, he managed to answer strongly: "I think we have to risk it. We've been searching both our kingdom and Cora's for weeks without any result. At least this gives us a starting point."
"Then do it." To give George credit, the man was always decisive. David nodded once, and turned on his heel to form new search parties.
The voice coming from outside her bedroom was downright tiny. "Emma?"
"The door's open!" Emma called, twisting to face the door from where she was lying on the bed with a magazine.
It was Saturday morning, and she'd given herself the day off—and Keith a morning shift, which the drunk hated—and she'd thought that Mary Margaret was still in bed. The last two days had been so very rough on her roommate. Between angry parents demanding that their children move into another class and Keith barging into their apartment to ask her questions (at Cora's behest, Emma was sure), Mary Margaret couldn't seem to catch a break. They'd both decided that today was a day to sleep in, not that Emma had managed to. She'd been lying on the bed in her pajamas with a magazine for over an hour, hoping that poor Mary Margaret was finding the morning more restful.
Unfortunately, the answer to that seemed to be a big fat no. Mary Margaret looked miserable, and she held what looked like a letter in her hands.
"What happened?" Emma asked, sitting up and gesturing for Mary Margaret to sit down next to her. Her friend did, landing on the bed like a sack of broken potatoes.
"I got this in the mail," Mary Margaret whispered.
Emma held a hand out, and Mary Margaret handed the letter over. Emma scanned it quickly, noticing that it was from Very Merry Escorts, Inc., which was apparently owned by one Melaina Merryweather, judging from the letterhead. But it was what was inside the body of the letter that was most worrisome, and Emma skipped over the legalese to get to the meat of the problem, scanning past the greeting until she got to this:
The following debts were incurred by Mr. Leonard Rex Blanchard on or about November 5, 1998... Emma skimmed the list, noting that there were multiple entries for 'escort fees,' 'extra services,' and 'overdue payments'. There was also a significant section detailing a loan apparently taken out by Mary Margaret's father, and it was for a rather startling amount. Then there was the last paragraph:
As the sole heir of Mr. Blanchard, under all applicable laws, you, Mary Margaret Blanchard, are responsible for paying these debts. The total amount due is $168,923.20. Payment is due no later than January 15, 2012. Please make all checks payable to Very Merry Escorts, c/o Melaina M. Merryweather, Director & CEO. If you cannot pay immediately, payment plans or alternate employment are available.
"It's due in one week," Mary Margaret whispered. "I can't possibly pay this by then."
Emma reached out to wrap an arm around her. "You can fight this," she said. "Unless the loan specifically said that his heirs would be liable for the debt, you won't owe it."
"You don't know how it works here. Ms. Merryweather is…she's terrible. You can't get out of debts to her. Women who owe her money end up working for her."
"As escorts?" Emma gaped. If that wasn't illegal, she didn't know what was. Of course, there were escorts and there were escorts, but in Emma's experience, women who wound up doing the job because they owed someone money weren't just 'escorts'. They were prostitutes in disguise, and usually not very willing.
"Or worse."
Cora had been unusually smug when Killian related Sidney Glass' attempt to blackmail him—and the mayor, by extension—but her solution to the problem had not been one he enjoyed.
"String him along," she ordered. "Find out what else he knows, and then we will deal with him."
"Can't you just have Scadlock put a muzzle on him?" Killian asked unhappily. "You have his heart, don't you?"
"Scadlock's, yes. But not Sidney's," she replied dispassionately, studying at the contract that sat on her desk. Killian was tempted to ask what it was that had so much of Cora's attention, but experience told him that he really didn't want to know. The Evil Queen was growing more and more dangerous as time moved and things changed in Storybrooke, and although the pirate knew that he was beholden to her and stuck on her side, he preferred to distance himself from her as much as possible.
As much as she'd let him, anyway.
"Then have Scadlock tell him that it's a bad idea, or beat the bloody hell out of him," he suggested. "I seem to recall you having your sheriff do the same to me, once. It taught me my lesson well enough."
Cora snorted. "Sidney has other uses. Let him think he can blackmail the both of us," she shrugged. "Then he'll go running to Miss Swan, and we'll destroy them both."
"If you say so," Killian replied dubiously, and then flinched as suddenly burning eyes zeroed in on him.
"I do, Captain, and you will do as you're told. Understood?"
Times like this, the safest thing to do was bow and say: "Of course, Your Majesty."
Killian was no fool, after all, and he knew upon which side his bread was buttered. When they woke up, the heroes would never embrace him as one of their own, and that left him with Cora. He knew her well enough to know that even when—if—the curse broke, she would have a plan, and the odds of her coming out on top were high. Killian had joined with her initially because he was sick of losing, and he was prepared to sacrifice a lot to get what he wanted. Even if his conscience balked at killing innocent children (which he was still so thankful had not happened in the fire), it was otherwise very flexible. And he was there to win.
2 Years, 10 Months Before the Curse
"Rumplestiltskin!"
The name burned in when he was playing with Gabrielle, sitting on the floor with his one year old and making faces like an idiot. She was giggling happily, pointing fingers at his more ludicrous expressions, still young enough to be absolutely oblivious to the fact that her father looked more like a demon than a man. Someday, she'd realize just how different he was, but until that day came, Rumplestiltskin would treasure every moment. Unfortunately, however, those moments would currently have to be cut short; this was one call he could not ignore. Not if he wanted his curse to be cast, and for the Savior to be born on schedule.
Swans. There's always something about Swans when I try to see her, he thought distractedly, standing and lifting his daughter in his arms. She giggled happily as he bounced her, but pouted when he handed her over to Belle.
"Someone calling?" his wife asked, obviously having seen him twitch slightly and recognizing the signs.
"Our charming prince," Rumplestiltskin confirmed. "It seems he's remembered there's another way to find his future bride than playing Cora's games."
"You could have offered, you know."
"Offered?" he laughed, twirling a hand and feeling the call come in again, even more desperately. Rumplestiltskin! "That'd never do, sweetheart. If I offered, they'd never pay the price I want."
Belle just rolled her eyes. "Go on. Off with you! Go help him save his princess."
Sketching his wife and daughter a quick bow, the Dark One disappeared in a swirl of maroon smoke, depositing himself twenty feet or so behind 'Prince James' and seated on a fallen tree. There he waited, silent and watching the young man he'd so consciously not chosen to be George's adopted son so many years before. Rumplestiltskin had always known that whichever twin he placed with George will be slain before his time, and he'd also always known that this son would be the one that mattered. It had been child's play to make sure George got them in the right order, and overall, he was rather pleased with his handiwork.
Technically, he'd only met the so-called prince once, when he'd given him the option to replace his brother (the meeting as a newborn hardly counted, after all; nor did the time David lay dying), but Rumplestiltskin could still tell that he had grown. In fact, he had grown a great deal. He now carried himself like a future king, but not the type of arrogant king that his adopted father could be. No, David would be a different sort entirely, for all that he'd rule under his brother's name. Or would he? This was one of the pieces of the future that Rumplestiltskin had never bothered to puzzle out. This man's fate would be determined by the curse that was cast, and its aftermath.
"Rumplestiltskin!" the prince bellowed for a third time, his posture stiff and worried. "Where are you?"
"There's no need to shout, dearie," he called with a devilish smile, enjoying the way David whirled to face him. "I'm right here."
"I need your help," the prince said without preamble. "King George said that you can help me find Snow. Name your price."
"Well, aren't we all business," Rumplestiltskin replied, taken aback by the abrupt demand. Yes, this one was different from his brother, and despite himself, Rumplestiltskin was impressed.
"Yes. Can you help me, or not? She's missing and—"
"Under a nightmare curse. Yes, yes, I know," he cut the younger man off, waving a hand as he danced to his feet. "Nasty little curse, that one. And not so little. Those cursed have been known to kill their own True Loves before they can be saved."
No, that didn't deter David at all. "I'll take that risk," the prince said firmly.
"Ooooh. Is she worth all that?" he asked with a little wiggle, approaching the prince with eyes that he knew were a little wild. It was always interesting to see how they reacted to him when he acted like this, but he really was interested in the answer to his question. Rumplestiltskin needed to know.
"Worth dying for," was the immediate response.
Yes, these two will do quite nicely. It had always been possible that he'd wind up needing to use some other True Love couple's child—which was why Rumplestiltskin tracked them all—but his first instinct had been right. Snow White and her Prince Charming were exactly what he needed. They would fight for one another, time and again, and make their love so much stronger because of it.
"Well, then. I hope you're ready to face the gauntlet that the Evil Queen has set out for you!"
"Gauntlet?"
"Oh, yes. You'll have to face all manner of fell creatures to reach your True Love. Is she still worth it?"
"She's worth whatever I have to face. Now, will you help me, or not?" David asked again, his voice still firm and his love for Snow practically glowing off of him in a beautiful burst of magic. "I don't know where she is—Regina says that she's somewhere to the east, but I don't know where."
"I do."
"Then help me get to her!"
"Of course I'll help you, dear. Don't get too excited," he reminded the young man with a high-pitched giggle. "For a price."
"What do you want?" David had the sense to look wary, but luckily for him, he was going to get off lightly.
"A few hairs off your pretty little head," Rumplestiltskin answered, and then reached a hand out to yank them free before the prince could object because he didn't want to bother explaining why.
"Ouch!" That got him a glare, at first pained, and then suspicious. "Is that all?"
Rumplestiltskin cocked his head, holding up the trio of hairs he'd claimed. "Do you want me to ask for something more?"
"No! I do want to know what you're going to use them for, though." It was a wise question, but unfortunately for Rumplestiltskin, not one he was interested in answering.
"Not part of the deal." He grinned wickedly, and watched the prince flinch ever so slightly. But the young man was admirably determined, and clearly decided not to fight a battle he knew he could not win.
"Fine, then. Where is she?"
"First, you'll need a little help." Rumplestiltskin twirled his right wrist, and the three hairs vanished—banished to a vial in his favorite tower—only to be replaced by an ancient sword whose power sent a chill racing up Rumplestiltskin's spine. It was Excalibur, the most powerful and legendary sword in creation, but there was no need to tell the prince that. "This sword will slay any magical creature you come across, but I've enchanted it not to cut you. You'll need it to reach your dear princess."
David reached out to take the sword, and then hesitated. "What will it cost me?"
"Ah, now you're learning," he grinned. "Let's call it…a loan. I want it back. Undamaged. And that lovely little protection on the sword will only last a day, so I suggest you hurry."
"I'll do my best." The prince reached for the sword again, but Rumplestiltskin held it just out of reach.
"As for the price…let's just say you'll owe me a favor."
"What kind of favor?" Oh, the prince was smart. Rumplestiltskin started to have hopes for the Savior, after all.
"Well, if I knew, I wouldn't ask so vaguely, now, would I?" he giggled again, thinking of all the possible things he might need from the prince and unable to pin down just one. "Do we have a deal?"
"Fine. Yes. Just take me to Snow."
"Your wish is my command!" Rumplestiltskin quipped, handing over the sword and dancing out of reach as Charming tested out the weapon's balance point. He looked expectantly at the Dark One, but Rumplestiltskin had already raised his hand. Magic swirled down his arm and surrounded the prince, but before he vanished, Rumplestiltskin had one last bit of information to share. "True Love's Kiss will save her, dearie! But only that!"
He gave David no chance to respond before the spell sent him halfway across the Enchanted Forest, straight to the entrance to the cave in which Snow was imprisoned. Rumplestiltskin was taking no chances; he might have been able to put Charming inside the cave, but Cora's wards might also be designed to kill someone who was delivered in such a manner. No, this had become an old-fashioned quest, one upon which that the prince needed to save his beloved princess from peril, and Rumplestiltskin appreciated the nature of magic far too much to interfere with that. Some battles had to be fought, and True Love had to be won. If the prince was not willing to fight for Snow, the hairs he had just forked over would be worse than useless.
It might already be too late, anyway. Nearly two months had passed before Charming had called upon him. Rumplestiltskin knew that Snow White was still alive, knew that she was strong, but he had no idea what kind of condition Charming would find her in. Depending on how well Cora had brewed the Nightmare Curse—because the recipe he had given her was not the strongest one available; no, that one would have killed Snow within days—the princess might be a quivering mess for the rest of eternity, or she might be able to heal. There was no knowing until Charming kissed her.
No knowing at all.
A/N: So, Cora's out to ruin any potential Emma and Graham have of sharing a relationship. Do you think she'll manage? And what do you think will happen when Charming finds Snow?
Next up is Chapter Thirty-Five: "Debts Owed," where Emma tries to get Mary Margaret out of her ominous new debt, Belle wants Rumplestiltskin to help, and Mary Margaret faces trouble at school. Back in the past, Cora confronts Rumplestiltskin about helping Charming, and Charming begins his quest to save Snow.
Also, keep an eye out for my new fic, "Remember", which I'll start posting tomorrow (Wednesday). It's a five or six chapter Rumbelle fix-it set after the end of "Heroes and Villains".