Chapter Forty-Three—"Cards on the Table"

"You're going to do it because I ask it of you," Rumplestiltskin replied, his teeth flashing in a vicious imitation of a smile. "Please."

Cora froze. In fact, she went stark white and just stared at him, her dark eyes calculating furiously. A second passed, and then two, but no longer. Then the Evil Queen smiled, the expression slow and almost pleased, even though fury lurked behind its outer layers. But there were questions there, too. Rumplestiltskin had just laid his cards on the table, and although Cora's instincts told her that something had changed, she obviously wasn't quite sure what. After all, Gold was sharp enough that he might just have figured out what affect that word had on her, and used it because of that. He could see her thinking furiously, could see her wondering, and resisting the urge to gloat was hard.

"Did you just say 'please'?" she asked congenially, cocking her head and reaching for his face once more. "You can learn manners, it seems."

"And you never did learn when to quit, did you?" he countered, his voice going up an octave or two as he snatched her wrist in a hard grip. "Stop while you're ahead, Cora."

Gold rarely called her that, and certainly not in that tone. Recognition dawned in her eyes, hard and fast, and much to Rumplestiltskin's surprise, Cora laughed. "Rumple," she said, her eyes suddenly shining. "You are awake."

"Very much so," he confirmed. The secret was out; he would make use of it. "And I trust you understand exactly what you won't be doing, don't you, dearie?"

"I—" Cora cut off, clearly trying to fight and finding those same tendrils of the curse wrapping around her, bending and forcing her to its will. She had agreed to put his little caveat in, and thinking herself clever, had added two of her own. But now their positions were reversed, and Cora suddenly had to find out how binding that promise of hers could be, and Rumplestiltskin could see how much she hated it.

If his nasty grin was a little smug, well, being the Dark One hardly brought with it any small amount of humility. He needed to make no secret of his contempt for her; he could let it burn into his eyes and come out in every clipped word he spoke. He had no reason to hide. Rumplestiltskin had let his claws come out to protect his wife and daughter, had hemmed Cora in with quick, sharp, and careful words, forcing the curse to do his bidding as much as it had ever done hers.

"I understand," the mayor finally grated out, her eyes flashing.

"I'm so glad to hear that," Rumplestiltskin said, allowing the imp inside him a bit of a gleeful wiggle that made it past his usually iron self-control.

"What is she to you?" Cora asked, her tone still a little full of wonder. Clearly, she hadn't expected her old mentor to suddenly be awake, and Rumplestiltskin wasn't quite sure he was comfortable with how much that obviously pleased her. "This Lacey French. I know you enjoy reading, Rumple, but bringing the librarian home is going a bit too far."

"Not your business," Rumplestiltskin replied immediately. He was prepared to let this one secret out to protect his family, but telling Cora that he'd actually married Belle back in the Enchanted Forest would be just waiting for her to try to find a way around the pleases that bound her. Particularly if she knew Renee was his daughter in the old world. Best not to give her such temptation.

"I want an answer n—"

"Please," he cut her off before she could get the rest of 'now' out, smiling slightly. It's time you remembered who taught who, dear, he didn't say, but his expression got the point across loud and clear. "I'd prefer you not ask that question. Or any like it."

Cora snarled, the sound a wordless expression of fury that warmed Rumplestiltskin's dark little heart. It was nice to let his inner monster out, to stop hiding behind a façade of someone who didn't know any better and couldn't help himself. Rumplestiltskin was no meek victim to be abused, and Cora knew that. Gold was another matter; he was just a shell. Gold was a pantomime of a human who happened to live in Rumplestiltskin's skin (or the one he'd had before becoming the Dark One, anyway). But Rumplestiltskin was the Dark One, and Cora, of all people, knew exactly what that meant.

What neither of them knew, or at least not for sure, was how long his 'pleases' would last. Rumplestiltskin rather thought that they would hold at least until the curse broke, particularly if he was wise in their employment. Unlike Cora, his caveat cast a wider net; hers compelled him to physically act in a certain manner, but Rumplestiltskin's were much more cerebral. He'd been very particular in what he'd asked of Cora in exchange for the information he sought, and now he was going to reap the benefits of his careful word choice. He could still see the magic working on her, too, despite Cora's attempts to shrug it aside. At least that keeps Belle and Renee safe, Rumplestiltskin thought, ignoring the way his own curse cackled gleefully. That's what is most important.

"I didn't think you were so foolish as to make an enemy out of me," his former student purred, coming back on balance. She pulled her wrist out of his grip, and he let her, folding his hands over his cane and studying her impassively. Some of Gold's mannerisms were useful; there were times when quiet menace could be just as threatening as a high-pitched giggle.

"You actions have created this situation," Rumplestiltskin reminded her. "Not mine."

"Don't play games with me," Cora said coolly. "I am going to assume that you woke up at the same time my darling daughter did, and that means you have known exactly what was going on for some time. Was it the little 'Savior's' presence that awoke you, too?"

Rumplestiltskin smiled thinly. "Of course." There was no harm in telling her that; Cora had wormed that truth out of Regina some time ago.

"I see." Her lips pursed, pressing into a thin line and making her look both older and colder than before. "And you've chosen to side with the little heroes? How unlike you."

"Hardly." He snorted. "You should know that I am always on my own side. And no one else's."

That made Cora smile again, but the expression was neither pleased nor amused. "And not mine."

"I'm not your toy, dear."

"Aren't you?" Cora countered, stepping in close once more, her face suddenly so close to his that their lips were almost touching. "Let's test that. Tonight."

Shock made him go rigid, his eyes opening wide. "You—"

"No pleases, now," she purred, placing a finger against his lips gently. Now her smile turned victorious. "Not tonight."

She had him. Still, Rumplestiltskin couldn't believe that Cora would dare. He hadn't expected this, not now, not once she knew he was awake. He had actually thought that Cora knowing he was awake might change their dynamic, because Gold was not Rumplestiltskin, and they both knew it. He'd not really thought that Cora would dare hurt the Dark One; he was too dangerous, a fact she knew better than almost anyone. You snubbed her once, the small voice of memory reminded him. She wanted you, and you refused her. And now she can have her revenge. They both had long memories, and neither had ever been willing to let an insult go. They'd been stepped on too many times when they were peasants to stand for it now…a fact Rumplestiltskin should have realized would make Cora lash out at him, no matter who he was. Knowing her, she'd probably enjoy her revenge all the more now that he understood why she was so angry.

They weren't so very different. In a way, the manner of the curse itself was Rumplestiltskin's revenge upon Cora for breaking his heart; but as always, his revenges took on a far more subtle bent than his old student's. His vengeance had been characterized by his patience, as were all of the choices he had made leading up to the curse. Rumplestiltskin had been willing to wait, willing to sleep inside some merely human persona, while Cora had her fill of boring vengeance upon the world. He'd even been willing to take the chance that Cora would find a way to make his cursed self miserable. But this…this he had not quite expected, and Cora clearly read the shock on his face.

"You forget who has the power here," she said sweetly, her fingers touching his face once more, stroking his cheek gently. "I will do as I please, and you certainly cannot stop me. Are you going to try?"

He'd said those last two sentences to her once, so many years ago. Rumplestiltskin remembered them all too well, and although he'd had an advantage over her then, the tables were now turned. There was no right answer to her question, either. Of course he was going to try to stop her—and succeed—but telling Cora that would just invite more pain.

As if tonight wasn't going to be bad enough. A cold ball of terror was forming in the pit of Rumplestiltskin's stomach, and it took all of Gold's formidable self-control to not show his terror.

"Don't ask questions to which you don't want to know the answers," he replied, his voice low and dangerous. He would be damned if he'd let her know how frightened he was.

Perhaps his assumption that their dynamic would change had just been wishful thinking. Perhaps he'd told himself that so that he wasn't too afraid to drop the pretense of being cursed and do what he needed to in order to protect his family. Maybe his fear would have kept him silent if he'd realized that Cora would still hurt him, and that she'd probably be worse than ever before. Is that even possible? Rumplestiltskin was certain that he would find out tonight. No matter how little he wanted to know.

Cora smiled at him one more time and then sauntered out, her motions that of a woman who had everything she could possibly want, and was about to enjoy herself immensely. Rumplestiltskin stood in silence for a long while, staring at the glass countertop and trying to contain his racing heart. Eventually, he managed, willing his hands to stop shaking and fighting back the urge to run home to Belle that instant. There was nothing that could be done about it, and at least his courage had lasted long enough to protect his wife and child. That had to count for something.

Even a coward, after all, could risk everything to protect those he loved.

The next evening, Killian finally convinced Emma Swan to join him for dinner. He'd waited over a week after she asked him about the Basement and he'd reluctantly answered, and then invited her to join him at the 'new' Italian restaurant open down by the docks. Of course, Kilian knew that the place had been open for most of the last twenty-eight years, but everyone in town was convinced that it was only a few months old, which made reservations hard to come by. He was quite certain that Emma had never eaten there, and given that he really did like the lass, he thought he should give her a bit of a treat on their first date.

When she arrived wearing a nice red dress, Killian knew that he'd been right. She was downright gorgeous, and just looking at her was enough to send all thoughts of other women out of any man's mind. Of course, he was still wary of her relationship with the former sheriff—who he had seen her talking to just two days earlier, even if the conversation had appeared to be awkward and uncomfortable for both of them—but Killian knew that his own charms should be up to seducing her. That, of course, was still what Cora wanted, although the pirate wasn't quite sure why she wanted him to seduce and bed the Savior. Now that they both knew what Emma Swan was, what was the point? Ours is not to reason why, he thought, mentally quoting a fascinating poem from this world. Cora had been insistent, and he was indeed her ally, so he would do as he was told.

Just like he'd told her that Emma was investigating the Basement, despite Killian's desires to the contrary. He knew which side his bread was buttered on, and telling the mayor that the sheriff was looking into a local establishment was hardly betraying anyone, was it? He was just doing his civic duty, and he was sure that Emma would get around to telling Cora about it at some point. Such as after she's arrested someone, he knew, but Killian pushed that thought out of his mind and forced a smile on in its place.

"What was that, love?" he asked, having missed what Emma said. Some seducer you make. Try not to ignore the lovely lass in front of you, Killian!

Emma gave him a bit of an exasperated look. "I said that I'm not sure why any author would stick around in a town like this one. August keeps saying that it's for inspiration, but I'm not sure what is inspiring. Particularly since he says that he writes books on travel."

"Well, this is a picturesque little town. Perhaps he wants to write a book on Storybrooke?" Killian asked with a shrug.

Or perhaps Cora has gotten her claws into him, too. I wouldn't put it past her.

"I doubt it. Don't you people all say that no one ever visits Storybrooke?"

"Fair point." But Killian wasn't there to talk about some random author, even if the fool had to originally be from the Enchanted Forest. If there was one thing that Killian Jones had learned in all his years as a pirate, it was that portals between other worlds tended to crop up at the most inconvenient moments, which meant that this August W. Booth was undoubtedly from their land. Or one very like it, anyway. How he'd gotten there was a mystery, but it wasn't Killian's job to figure that one out. "Still, you seem to like our fair town well enough," he continued, changing the subject. "Or at least well enough to stay."

"I'm staying for Henry," Emma replied immediately, looking a bit defensive.

"I think that's very good of you," he said honestly. "The lad seems like he's taken quite a shine to you."

She shrugged self-consciously, her voice going quiet. "I'm not always sure why. I…I gave him up. He should hate me for that."

"You gave him up for a good reason," Killian countered, reaching out to take her hand. Emma evaded his attempt, however, and he didn't try twice. Obviously, she still needed her space. "I think the boy knows that."

"It doesn't make it right. I—"

The ringing of Emma's cell phone—an interesting device if there ever was one, and dead useful most of the time—interrupted her, and Killian bit back the urge to throw the offending phone out the window. He'd finally gotten her talking about something that mattered, and he knew enough to know that Emma Swan hid behind a hundred different walls, each higher than the last. The only way to breach those defenses was to convince her to let him in, and he had a feeling that the way to do that was via the son she had obviously come to love. In some ways, his efforts made him feel guilty. After all, he was trying to seduce the sheriff because Cora had told him to, but Killian also liked her. And he was a damn sight safer than anyone else Cora might have given the task to, with the exception of Graham.

Of course, Graham was slightly handicapped at the moment, which was probably why Killian had wound up with the job. Or maybe Graham's accident occurred specifically because he was proving difficult in regards to Emma. There was a lesson in that, Killian was sure, and it wasn't one he hankered to learn himself.

"Swan," Emma answered the phone briskly, clearly having recognized the number calling. Quickly, however, the smile drained off of her face and she sat up very straight in her chair. "What did you say? Where? Okay, don't touch anything, and I'll be right there."

Emma stood, and Killian reflexively did the same. Back when he'd been young, a gentleman always rose when a lady joined or departed the table, and being in the Land Without Magic did not mean he should lose his manners. "Is something wrong, love?"

"Yeah," she replied slowly, staring at the phone even though she'd just hung it up. "Sidney Glass was just found dead. It…it looks like he committed suicide."

"Whatever would he do that for?" Killian asked, after waiting the proper amount of time to convey shock and dismay. He had to be very careful now; he hadn't expected Emma to get this news when he was out with her, and their sheriff was as clever as she was beautiful. She would notice if he slipped.

"I don't know. I've got to go—I'm sorry about dinner, but I've got to go."

"Of course," he said, giving her an understanding smile. "Can I help at all?"

Taking one last look at Glass' apartment would not go amiss, after all. Killian knew that all of the reporter's records and audiotapes (that could be found, anyway) had been destroyed, but it would not hurt to check one more time. However, Emma shook her head.

"Sorry, but no. I'll talk to you later."

She strode out quickly, leaving Killian to tell the waiter that no, they really didn't need their dinner orders, and no, the sheriff wasn't going to come back. He ended up leaving a rather large tip to keep the manager happy, and that left the pirate in a rather foul mood. Or maybe it was the fact that he'd just managed to quite thoroughly impede his own efforts to seduce Emma Swan. So much for this date, Killian thought, and then shrugged. At least he knew where he could find some companionship for the evening, so he flipped open his own phone and dialed a number from memory.

Meanwhile, Regina was busy trying to contain her son's enthusiasm. David was out with Mary Margaret, which was certainly good news all around. However, they were trying to keep their relationship mostly secret, but the rambunctious ten year old she'd adopted had a very hard time wrapping his mind around that. "But if it's True Love, Mom, it's right," Henry argued for the fifteenth time. "People only think it's wrong because they're cursed."

"You might be right, but David and Mary Margaret still have to live in this town," she pointed out, brushing hair out of Henry's eyes. "And letting news of their…affair get out only makes it harder on them. Particularly Mary Margaret."

"Because she works at Granny's?"

Regina smiled; Henry really was very bright, and she was always happy to see him use his mind like this. "Her having such a public job does tend to complicate things."

"It's hard for you, isn't it?" Henry asked suddenly. "You two are sisters, but she doesn't know it. And I know you're trying to protect her."

"That's what family does," she replied softly, wrapping an arm around her son and thinking of the time she'd failed to protect him…and all the times she'd failed to protect Daniel. Snow and David might go on and on about always finding one another, but to Regina, the most important thing family did was protect one another. No matter what.

Henry gave her a blazing smile. "Then you should invite Errol over. I mean, Mr. Forrester."

"What?"

"And Mary Margaret. Invite Emma, too, 'cause she can hang out with me," the ten year old conspirator said. "Then you can say that you're inviting Emma over because she's my birth mom, and she brought Mary Margaret because they're roommates. But you, Dad, and Emma really want to thank Errol for saving me from the fire, so you invited him, too."

"That is so twisted that no one will believe it," she managed to say after a moment, trying to follow Henry's logic.

Her son just shrugged. "They're cursed. They'll believe almost anything if you say it loud enough."

"I'm not quite sure what to say to that," Regina admitted, turning the idea over in her mind. "But…it just might work. Or everyone will think we're crazy."

But no one will think it's a cover for two different affairs, at least, Regina thought. She and Errol had managed to go out to dinner just once, when Regina had been certain that Cora was otherwise occupied. That had been the best evening she'd had in a lifetime, and she burned to go out with him again…except for the fact that she was terrified her mother would notice. Henry's idea, although twisted, unorthodox, and downright silly, had merit in that respect. If she invited Errol over with a group of people, Cora would never suspect.

"Great! Can we do it tomorrow?"

"Oh, why not?" Regina asked rhetorically, and then hugged her son tightly. Henry just hugged her back, as understanding as always.

Sidney Glass had hanged himself several days earlier, and he hadn't even left a note. Knowing what Emma did about the reporter, she found a suicide very hard to believe—he'd just turned his life around, was actually doing well, and now this? She hadn't heard from him in a few days, maybe even a week, but Emma hadn't seen any signs that he wanted to hurt himself. There'd been no indication that she'd walk into his apartment to find his body swinging limply from the rafters. In fact, Sidney had seemed quite happy the last few times she'd talked to him, deep on the trail of what had happened to Victoria Scadlock and the—

Well, damn. It keeps coming back to that Basement, doesn't it? Emma thought disgustedly, and then turned to face the man who had discovered the body.

"What were you doing here again?" she asked.

"I own the apartment," Gold replied with a stiff shrug. "Mr. Glass' rent was due three days ago, and he'd not yet paid. So, I thought I would pay him a visit. When no one answered, and I noticed the smell, I unlocked the door and came in. Then I called you."

"You didn't touch anything?" Emma had to add.

He gave her a look that said she was an absolute idiot. "Of course not. Unless you count the doorknob, and perhaps the door itself."

"Of course." Sighing, the sheriff looked back up at poor Sidney's bloated body, wondering if her suspicions were right. Finally, she turned to the paramedics, also called by Gold. For all the good they'll do. "Go ahead and take him down. We've got all the pictures we need."

At least her new (or newly reinstated) deputy, Gary Rathbone, was good for that. He seemed to have a talent with a camera, and had done his job with a minimum of complaining. In that respect, he was worlds better than Keith, even if the two did seem to be drinking buddies. Gary did seem to be Keith's type of jerk, though Emma was trying to give him a fair chance. Even if he did look more like a criminal than a cop, with long stringy hair and a permanently etched-on sneer. Now, she glanced his way again.

"You start collecting evidence, and I'll talk to Mr. Gold," she told Gary, who just shrugged.

"Not much here. Place looks pretty clean for a reporter."

Unfortunately, Gary did seem to be as lazy as Keith, so Emma glared. "Just see what you can find, okay?"

He rolled his eyes. "Sure."

Resisting the urge to snap at him, Emma gestured Gold out of the smelly apartment, not needing to watch as the paramedics carefully lowered Sidney to the floor. She supposed she should feel more than numb, that she should grieve for a man who had been something of a friend, but Emma was too angry for that. She knew that there was more to this situation than met the eye, and that meant that she needed to talk to Gold. There was no way that Sidney had committed suicide, not like this, and Gold was more likely to have information than not. So, the pair excited the apartment together, walking down the hall and out the far door—Sidney had lived on the first floor—and into the crisp winter evening.

Shivering, Emma wrapped her red leather jacket more tightly around herself before turning to face the pawnbroker. Her dress really wasn't made for weathering temperatures like this, and she was glad that she had the jacket in the car. Gold, on the other hand, was clad in a warm looking black overcoat, one that—predictably—matched his suit entirely. Gold was probably the only man Emma had ever met who could report a suicide (or a murder) without blinking an eye or getting a hair out of place, but it was his brains that Emma was interested in at the moment. Not his morality, or lack thereof. He was sharp, Gold was, almost frighteningly so. Emma didn't know him well, and didn't trust him worth a damn, but he didn't seem to be on Cora's side, so she could depend upon that, at least. Since when am I treating this town like some kind of battlefield? Henry and Regina must be rubbing off on me.

"What can I do for you, Sheriff?" Gold asked, looking bored.

Emma took one glance around at the apartment building's empty courtyard, and then decided to go for broke. "Sidney was looking into the Basement for me," she replied. "Do you think that might have led to his death?"

"What, you think that Mr. Glass didn't commit suicide?" the slender man asked factitiously, and then quirked a cold smile. "There's hope for you yet."

"I don't have time for games, Gold," Emma snapped. "Just answer the damn question."

He shrugged. "I have no idea. As I told you, I've never been involved in Madam Merryweather's exclusive little club. I'm afraid that I'm just not interested in those sort of…depravities."

There was something in his voice there, an odd note that Emma couldn't place. And when she studied him, she noticed something slightly off in his movements, something stiff or sore. It wasn't her business what was the matter with the most powerful man in town, but Emma's instincts were telling her that something was wrong. Perhaps, had the situation been different, she might even have asked him. But she was too focused on Sidney, the Basement, and what this sudden death meant. There would be time for everything later, she told herself. Not that Gold would tell her.

"But plenty of other people are," she said flatly. Yet she still didn't have any way to tie Cora to the Basement, did she? And Emma couldn't think of anyone else in the town would stoop to murder to stop someone from uncovering information. You've got no evidence that Cora would, either, she reminded herself. Just Regina's assumption that her mother was behind the fire.

"I suppose they are. But why are you talking to me about it?"

"Because you know something!" Emma burst out before she could stop herself, annoyed and grieving. "Convenient accidents just seem to stack up in this town. First, Graham drives his car into a building for no apparent reason. Then the library lights on fire from six different places at once, but no one can prove anything. And now Sidney has supposedly committed suicide."

"You don't actually believe that, do you, dear?" Gold asked, his brown eyes suddenly intent. "So why not call it what it is?"

"Because I'm a cop," she snapped. "It's my job. People are innocent until proven guilty."

Gold actually snorted. "Do you actually believe that applies in this town? Perhaps you are not as intelligent as I had hoped."

"What, when you set me up to run for sheriff?" she countered, bristling, and then suddenly a thought occurred to her. This man knew everything in this town, didn't he? Emma felt her eyes widening. "You sent me that text, didn't you? The one that told me about the asylum?"

"You received a text? I never heard anyone say anything about that." The man managed to look admirably innocent and all-knowing at the same time.

"You did," Emma breathed, and suddenly everything started to fall into place. Gold had made sure she could become sheriff, first by putting her on the right track, and then by enabling her to make a splashy rescue of six innocent people. "But why?"

"Oh, I have my reasons," he replied with a thin smile, not even bothering to deny it any longer. His eyes met hers once more, cool and focused enough to send another chill down Emma's spine. "You're not the only one who dislikes the mayor's abuse of power, dearie."

"That's funny, because the two of you seem to be great friends," she shot back, confused and not liking the feeling at all.

"Do we?" the pawnbroker countered easily, and then shrugged once more. "Is that all, Sheriff? I'm afraid that I have somewhere to be this evening."

"Yeah, that's all." Emma scowled. She couldn't force him to answer her questions, after all, and he didn't seem to actually know anything useful about the death she was investigating. But she could get in a parting shot. "Give my best to Lacey."

Gold had already started to turn away, but Emma saw him twitch when she said that. What the twitch meant, she couldn't say, but at least it was a reaction from an otherwise impenetrable man. That had to count for something…even if not much. Sighing, Emma just added Gold to the list of things that weren't right about Storybrooke, and trudged back inside to see what Gary had found.

Of course, the fact that Gary had been checking to make sure there was no evidence left behind didn't occur to her until later. All Emma knew—right now—was that he was a jerk and a sleaze ball of a slightly better degree than Keith Law. She didn't realize how deeply in Cora's pocket he already was.

1 Year, 8 Months Before the Curse

They'd been married for a little less than four months, and Snow had never expected to have this news so early. She'd suspected, however, starting about a month earlier, and had spoken to a midwife—secretly, of course, because rumors traveled faster than the wind in a royal castle like this—to make sure. But the midwife had confirmed her suspicions just that morning, so she rushed out to find David.

James, she told herself firmly, knowing that she had to call her husband by the name the entire kingdom thought was his. Snow still didn't understand why George refused to admit that his second son had replaced the first, but it was his choice. The kingdom was prosperous and relatively happy, or as happy as a kingdom at war with Cora could be. But they were winning that war now, which was what had brought Snow and Charming back to the castle for a few short weeks, long enough for her to see a midwife without an entire army camp knowing. George had remained in the castle and off of the battlefield, giving his son and heir the ability to shine without him, and if he was unhappy to find that his daughter-in-law also spent time on the battlefield, well, that was his problem. Snow was never going to be some stay at home queen, and George finally seemed to begrudgingly accept that.

"Charming!" she called, finding him out on the practice field, sparring with a trio of guards. Normally, Snow would have joined him, but she'd begged off due to not feeling well. She had been feeling sick in the mornings for the last two weeks, which was what had sent her to the midwife. Now, at least she knew why.

Her husband turned to her with a smile, his face lighting up when he saw her. Snow couldn't help the way her heart beat a little faster, too; she was so lucky to have found a prince whom she could love the way she loved him. Every moment she spent with Charming was a treasure, and Snow would never allow herself to forget that. He was her perfect match, a man who was her equal in every way and complimented her strengths with his own. She'd never expected to find a marriage like this, because princesses didn't find True Love. Princesses married where they were told to marry, and usually ended up with princes like the original James had been: conceited, arrogant, and entirely too full of themselves.

"Feeling better?" Charming asked jovially. The guards stepped back to give them space, lowering their practice weapons as Snow approached.

"I am, yes," she replied, feeling her heart flutter excitedly.

"Want to go a round or two with me?" he offered, holding out the sparring sword in his hand.

Normally, that was an offer that Snow would jump on; she wasn't some weak-willed princess who was afraid to get in a fight. Their time on the road, saving and being saved by one another, had taught them both that, but today she just shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Concern creased his brow. "Are you sure you're feeling better?"

"I am," she replied, biting her lip to try to hold her grin inside. After a moment, she gave up, reaching out to place Charming's free hand on her still-flat belly. "It's just that someone else might not appreciate being along for the ride."

"What are you…wait a minute!" The words seemed to burst out of him, and Charming looked down at where Snow held his hand against her stomach, his eyes going wide. "Are you saying that—?"

"I'm pregnant," Snow confirmed, and watched his face light up. "You're going to be a father."

For a long moment, it looked like Charming had no idea what to say, then he let out a whoop of joy and grabbed Snow, swinging her around in the air as they both laughed. "I'm going to be a father," he breathed, still holding her. Snow wrapped her arms around his neck, beaming, as he continued: "Already? I mean, not that I'm not happy, but…"

"I'm about ten weeks along," she replied. "The midwife confirmed it this morning."

"That's…that's beyond wonderful. I don't know what to say."

"How about you just kiss me?" Snow replied, and Charming did so with enthusiasm. Somewhere in there, her feet finally found the ground again, and she just leaned into him, feeling safe and content in her husband's arms.

They were still at war, and they'd have to tell George soon, but for that moment, the only thing that mattered was the two of them and the child who was growing inside her. Snow knew that they would win, that they would free her father's kingdom from Cora's evil grasp. Someday, the child who their love had created would eventually inherit both kingdoms, and she thought that was something of which her father would be proud. I miss you, Papa, she thought glancing up at the sky. But I think you'd be happy for us, and I will do my best to honor your legacy.

"Do you know if it's going to be a boy or a girl? Could the midwife tell?" Charming asked after several moments of blissful silence.

Snow nodded, leaning back to look him in the eyes. "She has a little magic, and she said we're going to have a son."

"A son?" He looked ready to be knocked over with a feather, and reached down to touch her stomach again. His touch made Snow shiver delightfully, and her smile grew so much that it made her face hurt.

"I hope he looks like you," she said.

"Let's name him for your father," her husband replied immediately, and now it was Snow's turn to gape in shock. She'd wanted to bring that up, desperately, but she hadn't been sure if George would insist upon some name traditional in this kingdom, or if David would want something else.

"You want to do that?" she whispered.

"Of course I do." Charming kissed her again, and then dropped down to one knee at her feet to speak to her belly. "Do you hear that, little Leo? You're going to be named after your grandfather, no matter what anyone else says."

Snow wasn't sure it was possible to love anyone more than she loved her husband in that moment.

A/N: Thank you SO much for all the awesome feedback on the last chapter! It's motivated me to start writing FOTS again after a long while playing with other stories. And now here's my questions for you: do you think Cora's conduct towards Rumplestiltskin will change now that she knows? And what do you think will happen to Snow and Charmings' son? (Who is obviously not Emma).

Up next, Chapter 44: "Blackmail and Broken Hearts", where Henry's dinner party is held, Hook tries to wiggle out of Cora's grasp, Cora blackmails someone new into serving her, and then Hook goes to visit Gold. Back in the past, Snow and Charming share the good news, Hook and Milah discuss Baelfire, Regina makes a hard choice, and tragedy strikes.

Also, check out "True Love Wins Out", my newest story! It's a collection of outtakes from the FOTS universe, featuring Gold, Lacey, and Renee.