Chapter Thirty-Seven—"Snow Falls"
2 Years, 10 Months Before the Curse
David fell back with a cry. Having a sword shoved through your gut hurt, and the only good thing about the way he landed so hard on the ground was that it forced the sword most of the way out of him. Gasping for air and seeing stars, he struggled to clear his vision, because he could hear Snow sitting up and—
"Charming?" she gasped, sounding broken.
"Yeah," he managed, clutching at his stomach. It was strangely dry, but sore as hell, and he was pretty sure that he was in shock. Any moment now, blood would start pumping out from between his fingers, and he wouldn't be able to do anything about that. He was going to die, but he could still save Snow first. One of them had to survive this hell. "Right here," he panted.
"Oh, Charming, no—" For a moment, her expression looked sane but horrified, until David could see the nightmares overtake her. Her hands came up as if to shove him away, but he was still on the ground next to the coffin. "Stay away! Don't come closer! I'll kill them all!"
David didn't want to know who everyone Snow thought she'd kill, or was threatening to kill, were. He just staggered to his feet, not noticing when the sword slipped out of his gut until the blinding flash of pain made him collapse back to his knees. Dizziness tore through him; the world was starting to spin madly. "Snow," he whispered raggedly. "I love you. I know you might not be able to hear that right now, but—"
Her scream, wild and tormented, cut him off. Hearing her in so much pain was enough to give David strength, and he shot to his feet, not caring about how badly he hurt. He had to get to her before it was too late. Snow's hands came up to stop him as he leaned close to her, but sanity flashed through her eyes again, and with it recognition. They both only lasted a split second, but her hands closed on his tunic and held on tight even as David moved to kiss her. She was fighting it, he knew, fighting desperately against the horrors Cora had cursed her with.
Then their lips touched, and a wave of golden light and pure magic raced out from the pair, making the very air around them tremble with power. David staggered, and suddenly Snow was supporting him as the strength seemed to seep out of his bones. He'd made it. He'd done it. He'd saved her.
"You found me," Snow whispered, reaching up to touch his face.
Her touch was like heaven, and he had to smile, despite his lightheadedness. "Did you ever doubt it?"
"Truthfully? The glass coffin gave me pause," was her answer, but David could see the giddy laughter in her eyes.
"I will always find you," he replied, turning serious. "I love you."
Snow kissed him again, and for a moment, David felt like the world was finally right side up, like he could do anything, so long as she was by his side. Like they could do anything together. He'd never thought he could love someone the way he loved Snow, but she was the other half of his heart. The better half of his soul. Then, suddenly, she pulled back.
"I hurt you!" she gasped.
"It's nothing," David tried to reassure her, wondering when the shock would wear off and the dying part would begin.
"I stabbed you," Snow realized, and climbed out of the coffin before he could stop her. Her hands immediately went for his midsection, and David braced himself for pain that never came. Snow's eyes flashed up to meet his, confused. "Didn't I?"
Realization hit David like a ton of bricks, and he started to laugh. "I can't believe it," he managed between fits of laughter, shaking with mirth. "He said the sword couldn't hurt me, but…I just can't believe it."
"Who said?" Snow demanded.
"Rumplestiltskin," David replied, still laughing, as he wrapped his arms around the woman he loved. "He helped me get here. And he enchanted the sword so that it couldn't hurt me."
"Oh," she said, glancing down at where the wound should have been. "I'm still sorry."
"Don't be. You were worth it."
Snow's answer was to kiss him again, and David would fight his way through a hundred gauntlets every day if that was what it took to keep this amazing woman by his side.
Belle made sure to knock on their door before Emma left for work on Tuesday morning. After all, the sheriff needed to be present for this, and Belle didn't want to risk having this conversation in the sheriff's station where anyone could walk in. Rumple's plan was solid—his plans always were—and she appreciated having a part to play in it. For once, she felt like she was truly helping break the curse instead of standing idly by while others did all the work. So, Belle showed up at Mary Margaret and Emma's loft at 7:15 AM on January 10th, her shoulders squared and ready to find a way to help.
Emma opened the door, looking like she was almost ready to leave for the day. Seeing Belle made her eyes go wide in surprise. "Lacey. Is everything all right?"
"Of course. But I did want to talk to you. Do you mind if I come in?" Belle replied, struggling not to roll her eyes. She supposed that she shouldn't be surprised that Emma assumed that 'Lacey' was there because something had gone wrong in her life, or that Emma probably blamed Rumplestiltskin for that. Gold. He's Gold to these people. I must remember that.
"Sure." The sheriff stood aside and let her in; Belle entered the apartment with a smile, glancing around curiously. It was nicely decorated, tasteful and not overcrowded with stuff, and much larger than the small apartment she'd shared with Renee before the fire. Mary Margaret sat at the table, looking brave but sad, and Belle's heart went out to her.
She'd never met Snow White, but she was sure that she would like her. She seemed strong and courageous, like the kind of hero Belle had always wanted to be. Cora hated her for reasons utterly beyond her control, but Snow had still managed to stand up to her stepmother and even defeat her. She hadn't done so alone, of course, but no one could fight every battle alone. Belle knew that better than most.
"Thank you," she said to Emma, and then turned to include Mary Margaret in the conversation, speaking carefully. "I talked to Mr. Gold about your, uh, situation, and he thinks he's found a way he can help."
"Gold? Helping?" Emma echoed as if the two words did not belong in the same sentence. "This ought to be good."
But Belle's eyes were on Mary Margaret, whose head had snapped up like a frightened rabbit's. Her eyes, however, shone with cautious hope.
"He's really not as bad as you all think he is," Belle felt obligated to say, and that was the truth. Even Gold hadn't been what Emma seemed to think he was. "He's just…just a businessman."
"You can say that again," the sheriff muttered. Much to Belle's surprise, Mary Margaret spoke up, her voice stronger than Belle would have expected.
"What do I need to do?"
"Mr. Gold is willing to extend a loan to you to cover the costs of what you owe Madam Merryweather," she explained. "He still doesn't believe that you could prove that you didn't sign the loan, not in court, but he can buy out the loan."
"And replace it with owing him," Mary Margaret said glumly.
"He's not going to make you work for an escort company," Belle countered bluntly, and watched Mary Margaret swallow.
Emma snorted. "I'm still not sure how owing Gold will be any better."
"Because he's willing to adjust the terms of the loan that Mary Margaret already owes him, and simply continue payments for this new loan once that one is paid off in five years," Belle replied simply. Interestingly enough, that had been Rumple's idea, as well, but Belle knew that he didn't want Snow White broken. No, he wanted her strong enough to help her daughter face Cora down, and for that she had to have a fighting chance.
"Why would he do that?" Mary Margaret's voice had gone quiet again.
"He'll get his money either way," Belle pointed out. "He hardly needs it now, so he's willing to make this change…if Emma will co-sign the loan."
"Why does he want me to co-sign it?"
Because no matter how much I try to tell him he doesn't need it, he still wants to have a hold on you in case worse comes to worse, Belle couldn't exactly say. Nor could she point out that Rumplestiltskin firmly believed in collecting every favor he could, for reasons he'd not specify, even to her. Instead, she shrugged. "I didn't ask. But it is his requirement."
Emma frowned, but Mary Margaret stood up and came over to look Belle in the eye. "You convinced him to do this, didn't you?" she asked gently.
"I asked him," Belle said as honestly as she could. "It was his idea."
Neither of the women, Belle noticed, asked for details. They probably both thought she had to do terrible things to convince him, and for a moment, she hated them for that assumption. Oh, they weren't wrong about Rumplestiltskin in some ways; he was the Dark One, and he rarely did things out of the goodness of the heart he claimed not to have (even if Belle knew better). But they were also very mistaken in many other ways. Particularly when they presumed that she was with him unwillingly and she was some sort of concubine.
"Then thank you," Mary Margaret replied, and suddenly Belle found herself enveloped in a tight hug.
"Don't thank me for doing the right thing. Just come by the shop in an hour or so if you're both willing."
"Of course we are," Emma replied when her roommate looked her way, her voice firm. "We'll be there."
The same morning, August visited the convent. The nun who met him was clumsier and younger than the writer would have thought any fairy would be, but at least she smiled at him in a friendly manner as she led him to Mother Superior's office. The spacious room at the back of the convent was more luxuriously appointed than August would have thought, but at least that meant the couch he settled onto was comfortable. That didn't, however, mean he wasn't a little bit weirded out. He hadn't seen Mother Superior up close since coming to Storybrooke, and had only talked to her on the phone a handful of times over the years. Somehow, she'd tracked him down and called him when he turned eighteen, asking about Emma and where she was, which had led to the two of them talking every other year or so. Still, the Blue Fairy looked really different from how he remembered her.
And she dresses a lot more conservatively, too. Thank goodness! August thought, trying not to smile. He remembered asking his papa as a boy why the fairies wore so little when good women were supposed to dress modestly, and Geppetto had not had an answer for that. Nowadays, August might be tempted to ask that question himself, which meant it was a good thing that he met Mother Superior in a nun's habit.
"You took a chance coming here, child," Mother Superior said softly, waiting until the door closed and the other fairy was gone.
"I came in the side door, like I was going to confessional," August answered. "I don't think anyone saw me, and even if they did, they're under the curse and not paying much attention."
"The Evil Queen's spies are everywhere," the elder woman reminded him primly. "You cannot be too careful."
"Is that why you never told me that Emma had a kid?" he demanded, deciding to get straight to the thing that was bothering him.
Mother Superior blinked. "It didn't seem relevant. The child has become the Evil Queen's grandson, and—"
"And he's Neal's son, isn't he?" August cut her off, needing to know. If he'd realized that there was any chance of Emma being pregnant that with the watches he never would have done what he did. And he'd only done that because Mother Superior had told him that Emma needed to be separated from Baelfire at all costs.
"That hardly matters."
"Yes, it does!" August snapped, feeling guilt rear up and make his leg ache. I promised to be selfless, brave, and true. What am I doing with all these lies? he wondered brokenly. What was he doing with any of this? He never should have left Emma, and never should have forced her away from a man that she loved. And he never should have scared Neal away from Emma. He'd ruined two lives that day, and he'd done it because this fairy told him it was for the best!
"Pinocchio, child, we have done only done what we must to protect Emma," Mother Superior said softly, laying a hand on his as she spoke his true name. It was the first time that August had heard that name directed at him in twenty-eight long years, but that made him feel no better. "She was not safe with Baelfire."
"Why not?" he asked bitterly.
"Because the Savior could not be allowed to remain with the son of the Dark One," was the blunt answer.
August gaped. "The son of who?"
"You did the right thing, August. Henry, sweet as he is, does not matter so long as he calls the Dark Princess his mother, and he cannot ever be allowed to know whohis real father is. It is my hope that he will follow his adopted father when the curse breaks, but we cannot count on that. You must keep this secret, my child. All of our lives might depend upon it."
"I…I think I understand," he said slowly. August had never asked who 'Baelfire' was when Mother Superior had told him to frighten Baelfire away using his real identity, but now it all made sense. Neal seemed like a good guy, though, he thought, feeling that sting of guilt again. And he loved Emma.
"Good," the Blue Fairy smiled, and squeezed his hand. "Now go with my blessing, and help Emma break the curse."
Promising to do so, August made his way out of the convent, passing a grumpy looking shorter man on his way out. The security guard (or was he a janitor?) was talking to the clumsy nun-slash-fairy, but August paid him no mind. His own thoughts were too jumbled, thinking of the young woman who he had sent to jail. I never would have called the police if I knew she was pregnant, August told himself to quiet his conscience. Emma had probably given up the kid because of being in jail, but she hadn't had to, had she? I didn't know, he thought again. It's not my fault.
Ever so slowly, his wooden shin became a wooden knee, joining to a soon-to-be wooden thigh.
2 Years, 10 Months Before the Curse
They were approaching the bridge when the three trolls seemed to appear out of nowhere. Last time David had seen them had been on the opposite side of the bridge, when the shadow-demon thing had sent him sailing halfway across it and the trolls had tried to charge him a second fee for crossing. Then, he'd just managed to outrun them—trolls were a lot of things, but they weren't fast moving, not over flat ground, anyway—and go about his business. But now David and Snow had to make it back across the bridge in order to leave the cave, and instinct told them both that getting out of the cave before Queen Cora knew that Snow had been woken up was much safer than any alternative.
"Friends of yours?" Snow asked with a smile.
"Not exactly," David replied, shifting his grip on his sword. He'd paid the trolls once, and although David had tried to drive a hard bargain, he knew that he didn't have enough gold left in his pouch to pay them a second time at the same rate. And he knew enough about trolls from stories that his mother had once read him to know that trolls never accepted less gold than they thought they were due; they always came out on top of any bargain they made. That was why he'd tried so hard to talk them down the first time, but David had been in too much of a hurry to save Snow for to haggle too much. Now, however, he was about to pay the price for that rush.
"How much gold do you have?" Snow asked, driving right to the heart of the matter.
"Not enough."
"All right, then," she said slowly, glancing around and studying the high cave walls and deep chasm that the trolls so jealously guarded. "No other way across?"
"None I saw when I was on my way in," David replied, gesturing. "The exit to the cave is right around that corner."
"And it goes without saying that the sooner we get out of here, the better."
"Yeah. I don't suppose they'd take a promise of later payment, would they?" David wondered, but Snow shook her head.
"No. Particularly not if you mention being a royal," she added the last sentence quietly. "They think that royal blood tastes better than anything else in the world. Except gold, of course."
"Right. I don't think I want to know how you know that." David grimaced. Now was not the time to mention that he wasn't actually of royal blood; Snow still believed he was George's son, albeit one raised as shepherd. "Any ideas?"
"We fight?"
"I was hoping for something a tad more, uh…"
"Intelligent?" she suggested with a grin, and David had to grin back. "Sometimes you have no choice and just have to do what you have to do. I'm glad you've got two swords with you."
"Yeah, I guess so." David had almost forgotten that he was wearing his own sword, the one he had inherited from his dead twin brother. But he'd never taken that sword out of the scabbard on his belt, and somehow it had stayed with him throughout all of the fights. He still had the magical sword Rumplestiltskin had given him, too, which meant that at least they'd both be going into this mess armed. Now he drew his own blade and offered it to Snow. "Here."
She smiled. "You know how to give a girl the best gifts."
That made David laugh, and they stepped towards the trolls side by side, striding towards the bridge. There were only three trolls, after all. How hard could this be?
How in the world had Lacey talked Gold into buying out Mary Margaret's loan? Emma had burned to ask the former librarian that question, but had stopped herself. Firstly, because as badly as she wanted to know the answer to that, she also didn't want to know. She knew what Moe French—and most of the town—thought was going on between Lacey and Gold, but the image of the two of them together in the shop the other day just wouldn't leave her mind. Not only had Lacey's kid seemed perfectly comfortable around Gold, but Lacey herself seemed to have utterly no fear of the man. Thinking of that brought Emma's mind back several more months, to the encounter she'd witnessed between the two of them the day Ashley gave birth. Then, Gold had been an absolute jerk to Lacey, but there had definitely been an undertone of a relationship present. Henry seemed to think that they belonged together, that they were Beauty and the Beast, but fairytale stuff aside, maybe there was something going on between them.
And maybe that something wasn't quite as terrible as everyone in town seemed to think.
What about Renee? Emma thought suddenly, almost stopping in her tracks when the idea hit her. Renee didhave brown eyes to her mother's blue, didn't she? Didn't Gold also have brown eyes, too? The idea was farfetched, but if Lacey and Gold had been together as long as Graham hinted they had, maybe Gold was… Nah. Can't be. He's too possessive to leave his kid with a single mother who isn't well off, Emma told herself firmly, shaking her head and pushing the door to the pawn shop open.
Unfortunately, Lacey wasn't present in the shop when Emma and Mary Margaret walked in; Gold was alone, reading a book behind the counter with a calm and curious look on his face. When he looked up upon their entry, however, his expression betrayed no surprise at all. Well, at least Lacey seems to have warned him that we were coming, even if she isn't here, the sheriff thought, glancing at Mary Margaret. Her roommate looked nervous as hell, and Emma gave her a reassuring smile before stepping forward.
"We're here about that loan," she started. Might as well get that out of the way and find out if Gold really was going to do what Lacey said he was.
"I imagined that you were," the pawnbroker said coolly, placing a bookmark in his book and straightening. "I already have the contract drawn up, if you'll give me a moment."
"Sure."
He limped into the back, and Mary Margaret turned nervous eyes on Emma. "Are you sure you want to do this? My credit's not exactly good, and I don't want to drag you down with me. I don't even have a job right now."
"You'll get one," Emma reassured her. "And yeah, I'm sure about this, okay? Let me help you."
"Thank you," Mary Margaret said with feeling, just as Gold returned from the back, a manila folder in his hands.
Wordlessly, he extended the folder to the two women, and Emma let Mary Margaret take it, looking over her roommate's shoulder as Mary Margaret opened the folder and started to read the contract. Something caught Emma's eye right away, though, and she glanced up at Gold.
"A handwritten contract. Really?" she asked, looking down again.
"I suppose I'm just old fashioned, Miss Swan," the pawnbroker replied, and Emma had to admit that his handwriting was downright beautiful. And very old-fashioned indeed. But it was very legible, too, and there didn't seem to be anything odd about the contract, except a clause where it stated that payment for this—and Mary Margaret's previous loan—could be deferred for up to four months while Mary Margaret found a job.
"You're giving me time to find a job?" Mary Margaret asked in surprise.
"It does seem a wiser investment on my part, dear, doesn't it?" Gold countered, and didn't he have an answer for everything? Still, Emma couldn't argue with that.
"Was that Lacey's idea?" Emma couldn't stop the words from coming out, but she was slightly surprised at the enigmatic smile that crossed Gold's face.
"Miss French has a kind heart," was all he said, and the sheriff couldn't figure out if he approved of that or not.
"Yeah, she does," she retorted instead of pressing further. "And I'd hate to see it broken."
"As would I, Sheriff," Gold replied, and then shifted his gaze to Mary Margaret. "Does everything seem to be in order?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it does," the former schoolteacher replied, nodding. "I'm ready to sign if Emma is."
"Just show me the dotted line."
It was a good deal, and maybe too good, but at least Emma knew who had caused it. She would have been a lot more suspicious if Gold had proposed this on his own, because there was no getting around the fact that he was a tricky bastard. Interestingly enough, Lacey's actions did seem to make him appear a little more human; like any other male, he apparently could be manipulated by the woman in his life…whatever role that woman was filling. So, Emma signed after Mary Margaret did, and watched with interest as Gold scrawled an 'R. Gold' on the lender's signature line.
"Please tell me that you've got multiple copies of this and we don't have to wait for you to draw up another one by hand," Emma said dryly.
Gold laughed. "I'm not so old fashioned that I don't believe in using a photocopier. In fact, I believe you have one at the sheriff's station, so if you'd like to make copies and return the original to me, I would appreciate it."
"You'll trust me not to change anything?" she challenged him.
"You're the sheriff, Miss Swan. I'll trust in that."
Three days passed before anyone noticed the change, and by then it was too late. Deeming that sufficient time had passed, Cora sent Hook over to the headquarters of Very Merry Escorts to confirm that Mary Margaret Blanchard had taken up residence in the "house" and check in with Cora's favorite fallen fairy. He wasn't particularly pleased with the assignment, even though he'd once had an on-again off again relationship with one of the 'girls' that Merryweather now kept in the Basement. Most residents of Storybrooke didn't seem to know that the Basement existed, but those that were aware of the club/brothel underneath Very Merry Escorts didn't seem to understand that it hadn't always been there. Killian, on the other hand, had been awake for every one of the last boring twenty-eight years, and that meant that he remembered.
Cora had twisted her precious curse into creating the place, turning what was originally a semi-legal escort business into something far darker. Apparently, her precious little chef had managed to wander out and make friends with a red haired beauty (one who had been a mermaid, if Killian's time in Neverland was any judge). She took immediate offense to that, and promptly forced Merryweather to create the exclusive club called the Basement. It was an invitation only, anything goes kind of place, and for a while, Killian had enjoyed it. He'd been one of the charter members, both rich enough to buy himself a place and far enough in Cora's good graces that the mayor thought he needed rewarding. But nights with Mirabella Greenburg turned rather pale when he realized that she really had no choice in the matter, and that the poor girl had been moved from the asylum to the Basement, just transferred from one prison to another.
He'd rather liked her, more than anyone since Milah, and Hook wondered who she had been more than once. But the only one who would remember that would have been Cora, and he couldn't exactly ask her for the identity of one of her 'special' prisoners, particularly since Killian knew that those who were in the asylum—and in the Basement, as well—were people who had somehow managed to infuriate Her Majesty. So he kept his mouth shut and concentrated on other liasons, ones of a much more consensual nature. Killian might have been a pirate, but he was no rapist, and he'd liked Mirabella too much to do that to her.
Perhaps someday he'd see her again, but until then, he was stuck doing Cora's bidding, and that meant he was sitting in the foyer of the expensive mansion, waiting for Madam Merryweather herself to show up. He'd never met the fallen fairy in question back in the Enchanted Forest—Hook didn't have much truck with fairies at all, truth be told—but he had met her plenty of times here, and had usually found her a cultured if mischievous lady. She was certainly interesting, anyway.
"Captain O'Malley," Merryweather purred, gliding into the room. Like Cora, she was always expensively and impeccably dressed, but Merryweather favored light colors and pastels in her wardrobe. Often, she wore flowing silks instead of her expensive business suits, and today was one of those days. It reminded Killian of home in an oddly painful way; he'd never thought that he'd miss the place, but sometimes he really did.
"Madam Merryweather." Prompted into being old-fashioned himself, Killian bowed over her hand and kissed it, and watched the platinum-haired woman smile. "It's always pleasure to be in the presence of such a beautiful lady."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," she replied lightly, and then gestured him into a comfortable chair in the parlor. "What can I do for you today?"
"I've actually come on a matter of…curiosity," he started, trying to figure out how to phrase this without outright mentioning Cora's involvement.
"You mean that you're here on behalf of the mayor," Merryweather said immediately, smiling slightly. Well, I never thought she was stupid. She can't be, if she manages to keep this place appearing legal at all, the pirate thought to himself.
"I am," he admitted, abandoning caution. "And if you know that, love, you know what information I am here for. So, how is the new lass doing?"
"She's not."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I don't have a new girl, Captain," was the level response. "Unfortunately, Miss Blanchard was able to find someone to buy her loan out. I believe that Mr. Gold did so, though you'd have to ask him his reasons."
"You've got to be joking," Killian managed to say after a moment of staring at the establishment's matron. Gold? Gold was almost as bad as the Dark One whose memories he did not have. He was cold blooded and mercenary, bad enough to make even a pirate look like a hero. He didn't just buy loans out from anyone. Merryweather had to be jesting. Didn't she?
"I am afraid not," she replied, smiling that annoyingly superior little smile of hers. "The amount that old Mr. Blanchard appeared to owe me has been paid in full. I believe that means that Ms. Blanchard is no longer my concern. Please deliver my apologies to the mayor."
"I'm not your errand boy," Killian growled before he could stop himself.
Merryweather laughed lightly. "Of course you aren't, dear. I would consider it a personal favor if you would do so, though. And I would be so glad to give your regards to Mirabella. I believe she's missed you."
The last two sentences threw Killian for a loop like he hadn't thought possible, and his heart hammered into his throat briefly before he could shove it back down. Whoever Mirabella was, she didn't matter. She couldn't. And she sure has hell didn't miss him, because no one knew better than pirates how whores—willing or otherwise—did not miss their customers. He'd frequented too many brothels over the years to have any illusions. No matter what world they were in, they were all the same.
"I'll tell Cora," he managed to growl in response, ignoring the bit about the woman he'd once been fond of. Besides, he had bigger fish to fry on the romantic front these days; far more useful ones. "She's not going to be happy."
"Well, then she should not have left so much to chance," Merryweather replied bluntly, and for a moment, Killian found himself wondering how much the madam knew.
"I'm sure she'll take that under advisement," he replied, rising to leave. "Thank you."
"Anytime, Captain. Any time."
Killian left before that unsettling woman could say anything else; there was something in her almost purple eyes that really unnerved him. He hadn't liked her much when he was a customer down in the Basement, and now he remembered why. Damn Cora for sending him to do her dirty work. The mayor had probably figured that sending Cyril O'Malley, the notorious womanizer, down to an escort service/brothel wouldn't get anyone's attention, but he was sick of letting her use him. One of these days, she really was going to go too far, and then he was going to have to decide if 'winning' on her terms really was winning at all.
But not today. Today, he needed to tell Cora that her latest plot to wreck vengeance on her stepdaughter had failed, and hope she took her fury out on someone else. Preferably Gold.
2 Years, 10 Months Before the Curse
A few minutes later, after the three trolls turned into six, David started really regretting that thought. He and Snow had battled side by side, shoving two of the trolls off the bridge and making it to the center, but that was when the seventh and eighth trolls showed up, swarming up from underneath the bridge and blocking their path.
"Where did Cora get these guys?" David asked Snow as he ducked under a wild swing from the black-haired troll who seemed to be their leader.
"Probably in some deal or another! She loves to do that, to make people do her bidding."
"You'd think that they'd want better employment than working for the Evil Queen," David quipped in return. This fight was not going as well as he wanted it to, not by a long shot, but at least they were holding their own. They were down to six trolls again—now five, as Snow killed the shortest of the bunch, who seemed to be trying to tear her throat out with his teeth at the time—and those odds weren't too bad.
A sudden blow between his shoulders sent him staggering, and David watched the world whirl in front of his eyes. Catching his balance—barely—he managed to swing at the offending troll, but his attacker danced out of reach, cackling lowly with laughter. Breathing hard, David swung to face the now three trolls who were crowding in on him, trying to send him off the edge of the bridge, and noticed that Snow was having the same problem with her two. It was funny how the trolls seemed to see him as the bigger threat, because Snow had dealt with three of them so far and David had only really overpowered two. Princess or no, she'd been fighting with a sword for a lot more years than he had, and David knew that Snow was actually a better swordswoman than he was. She was just plain talented, and he was a shepherd with a few days of training and a lot of luck on his side. Granted, George had made sure that the finest swordsmanship instructors he could find had polished up David's skills, but Snow's years of training still showed.
Wheeling back to face the trolls, David lunged towards one and then feinted towards another, parrying the axe one of them had as he did so. He had to keep them busy, and then maybe Snow could pick hers off one by one and then they could get rid of these three together. David was no fool, and he knew that the only way they could win would be as a team, so he danced between the two on his left, and tried to get near Snow so that they could combine their defenses. Unfortunately, the third troll noticed what he was doing, and suddenly something swept David's feet out from under him. He hit the stone bridge with a crash, and felt bones and muscles give. Nothing was broken, but it hurt like hell, and one of the trolls immediately leapt on top of him, not even giving David a chance to catch his breath.
He tried to get his sword up, but another troll landed on that arm, making David grunt in pain. Then, suddenly the axe was at his throat, and David knew that he was done for.
"Snow, run!" he tried to shout, but one of the trolls hit him in the face and he saw stars.
"Charming!" he heard her shout, but then the trolls' laughter overshadowed her concern.
"Hmmm…pretty princess is not allowed to escape."
"We can't eat her," one of the others complained.
"Says who?" replied the first troll to speak, and David could see him licking his lips from where he sat on David's chest, holding the axe at his throat.
Breathing like this was getting hard, but David tried to throw them off, anyway, only to find that trolls were a lot heavier than they looked. Snow, however, was closer to the other end of the bridge than he was, and if she was willing to leave him, she could make it to freedom. And then this would have been worth it. "Run!" he wheezed, ignoring the way the axe pressed down until it made him hiss in pain.
"I'm not leaving you," Snow replied firmly, turning to face the trolls with her sword still in hand. "Get off him."
"Go back in your coffin and we'll discuss it," their long haired leader replied with a grin.
"Not going to happen," David put in from where he still laid on the ground. His chest was burning.
Snow reached up, pulling something off of a string tied around her neck. "Get off of him, or I'll turn you all into bugs," she said fiercely.
That made the trolls laugh uproariously. "You're no sorceress!" the leader cackled above the others' laughter. "The Queen is a sorceress, though, and she'll make mincemeat of you!"
"I still say we eat her. Royal blood—" the one sitting on David tried to argue, only to be cuffed in the head by the leader.
"I'm not going to warn you again," Snow said. "Get off of him and let us go, or you won't be eating anyone ever again. I may be no sorceress, but this is dark fairy dust, and you don't have to be a sorceress to use this."
She brandished a small vial, filled with what looked like dirt to David, but he wasn't going to ask. Snow had never mentioned having anything like that, but he did recall that she'd worn the vial when they were on the run, and maybe she was telling the truth. But it didn't much matter if the trolls were fooled, anyway. A good bluff was as good as a solid threat, so long as it made the people you were up against do what you wanted them to. And right now, David would take what he could get. The trolls were watching her warily, which meant they were at least taking Snow's threat at face value, even if they didn't actually believe her.
"Well? Make your choice," Snow told them, and if she was bluffing, David never wanted to bet against her. She had the best poker face he'd ever seen. Even he believed her, and he wasn't sure that he should.
A moment of silence passed: David could see the trolls exchanging glances. The one sitting on his chest was starting to look nervous, and David could feel the axe against his chin starting to shake ever so slightly.
"Do your worst," the leader of the trolls leered, stepping towards Snow threateningly, his long black hair sweeping around him like a cloak. He obviously thought she was bluffing, and the prince could practically see the visions of rewards dancing around the troll's mind.
And Snow did. Sprinkling a little bit of dust into her hand, Snow flung it at the black haired troll. He managed to sneer while she did, but then there was a loud crack, and suddenly a cloud of smoke surrounded the troll leader. When it vanished, so did he, and suddenly there was some sort of insect crawling about in his place, making tiny squeaky noises of distress. Despite the seriousness of his own situation, David barked out a laugh. That would teach these trolls not to mess with Snow White! The expression on her face was fierce when she turned to look at the remaining four trolls, the vial still in hand and obviously ready to fell another of them.
"Who's next?" Snow demanded, and David watched the trolls exchange nervous glances.
Ever so slowly, the troll on his chest removed the axe from the vicinity of David's throat, easing himself to his feet with wide and frightened eyes. The others seemed to feel the same way, and they slowly started backing away from David's prone form, although one of them was so nervous that he actually tripped over the prince's legs.
"Go on," Snow prompted them. "Get out of here, and if I ever find you serving the Evil Queen again, I won't be warning you. I'll just turn you straight into bugs, you understand?"
"Yes, yes, we understand," the troll who had been sitting on David replied, and then the quartet turned and fled.
Suddenly grinning, Snow stepped up and offered David a hand to help him to his feet. She was small and slight, his princess, but she was surprisingly strong for her size, and she pulled him up easily. "Thanks," he said with an answering grin, and Snow kissed him. " You rescued me."
"I think we're even now," she replied with a smile that David felt down into his very bones. "Though don't make a habit of it."
"Where in the world did you get dark fairy dust?" he couldn't help asking as they turned to walk off the bridge together, hand in hand.
"It's a long story," Snow laughed. "The short version is that I stole it from my stepmother back when she first enchanted my father. I always thought I would use it on her, but it seems like that this was a better purpose."
"Well, I'm certainly grateful," David replied, and leaned in to kiss her again.
The journey home would be a long one, but they'd won. This round, anyway. And they'd done it together, rescuing one another, and that was what counted. Of course, they weren't out of the woods. Snow would have re-flashes of the nightmare curse for years afterwards, dreams she could not escape without David there to wake her, and she remained significantly underweight and malnourished from her time in the cave. Magic had kept her alive and functioning, had kept her from starving or dying of dehydration, but the curse did not seem to care if she came out of it in good shape. They were lucky that Snow had done so well in the fight against the trolls, but she'd almost collapsed a few steps outside the cave, leaving David to catch her. He did, of course, and all but carried her to his horse.
In the end, the dwarves—who had set out to find Snow on their own with a bit of help from a fairy who Grumpy knew—found the prince and princess, and brought them back home to their little cottage. It was on the way back to George's kingdom, at any rate, and a good place to rest. While there, David finally discovered why Snow was so fond of these strange little men, and friendships that would last a lifetime were formed.
The moment the phone rang, Rumplestiltskin knew what it had to be about. The last three days had been almost eerily quiet, but ever since he'd signed that contract with Emma and Mary Margaret, he had known this was coming. Belle had been so pleased, however, that he couldn't let himself regret buying out that loan. After all, what was a few hundred thousand dollars to him? Cora had kept her promise and made him rich, and even if Mary Margaret never paid him back, his finances would survive just fine. He did have enough dirt on Merryweather to make sure that she didn't tell Cora, but in the end, he hadn't had to use that, anyway. Maleficent, in any form, was almost as much of a trickster as Rumplestiltskin himself was, and even when cursed, she didn't appreciate being used. So, she'd kept her mouth shut for three days, though Rumplestiltskin had not been such a fool to imagine that it would last.
He ignored the phone, anyway. He was half asleep, buried in Belle's arms and entirely too comfortable to deal with Cora at her worst, and Rumplestiltskin decided that not answering the phone couldn't actually make things much worse. Besides, it was after ten at night, late even for Cora's oh-so-polite invitations, and he could legitimately say that he had been in bed. Because he was.
"Umm…?" Belle stirred slightly, and Rumplestiltskin had to smile as he looked at her. His wife had never woken up quickly or well—he'd done most of the late-night child care back home, except when Gabi was hungry—and an odd corner of his brain loved watching her in her sleepy state.
"Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he murmured as the phone finally stopped ringing, bending to kiss her on the forehead. "It's not important.
"But now I'm awake," she muttered sleepily, blue eyes peeking open to look at him. They'd crawled into bed early once Renee was asleep, and Belle had left Rumplestiltskin rather worn out about an hour ago. Now, however, the groggy look in her eyes was replaced with desire, and Rumplestiltskin found himself smiling back. "Might as well make use of it."
"Do you have something specific in mind?" he asked, shivering as Belle's hands shifted to trail down his naked body.
"I bet we can think of something," she replied, leaning in to kiss him. He responded eagerly, shifting to pull her closer and reveling in the fact that after so many years, he had a woman he loved and who loved him, and they could finally be together.
Wrapped in Belle's arms, Rumplestiltskin forgot all about Cora.
A/N: Yikes! I'm sorry about the long delay between updates, particularly after that last cliffhanger. Unfortunately, we just moved across several states, and real life put a cramp in posting.
Stay tuned for Chapter Thirty-Eight: "Strengths and Weaknesses," in which Rumplestiltskin faces Cora's wrath, Henry shows Emma new pages in his book, and Regina confronts Henry about his visit with August. Back in the past, Cora wants a favor from Rumplestiltskin and Regina meets Tinker Bell.
In the meantime, if anyone is interested in nominating this story (or any of my others) for the Espenson Awards on tumblr, I would be greatly flattered. I have a few nominations already, but you need five to make it into the final group.