Cautiously, Jefferson peered around the entrance to the cave. He could just about see inside, where a scaled body was gently rising and falling. It was now or never. Jefferson slipped inside and hurried into the creäture's lair. He was right: it was fast asleep, which made his task a little easier. As quietly as he could manage, Jefferson gingerly stepped closer, before reaching out to grab the item. Despite the egg containing a dragon, it wasn't any larger than a large chicken egg, but it wouldn't fit into Jefferson's bag, so he had to resort to tucking the egg underneath one arm. Suddenly, the dragon's breathing fluctuated, it's nostrils flaring. Startled, Jefferson stumbled backwards, a foot landing on something rounded. He looked down at his foot, which had trodden on the dragon's foot. The creäture gave a moan, one eye snapping open.
"Oh bloody hell!" Jefferson muttered, turning on his heel and running.
He didn't dare look back, praying to the gods that the dragon's sleepiness would give him enough of a head start. The light of the entrance grew brighter, and to his delight he was able to escape the cave alive, a burning ball of flames tailing after him. Jefferson dashed up the hill, setting his backup plan into action. He shoved the pile of rocks and watched them tumble-down the slope and block the cave. That dragon wouldn't be bothering him for a while. Yet Jefferson couldn't shake the smell of burning, twisting around to discover the edge of his coat had set alight.
'Rumplestiltskin better be pleased,' he thought as he stamped on his coat with his boot, 'that beast almost ruined my best coat.'
Fortunately, Rumplestiltskin seemed pleased when Jefferson presented him the egg, although he noticed the imp's foul mood from earlier that morning hadn't fully gone away.
"Take as much as you see fit," he'd informed Jefferson with a dismissive wave of his hand, before turning his attention to a set of empty vials, each with a label for a different form of magic.
"Rumplestiltskin?" Jefferson paused, unsure of how to approach the question. He'd never really asked for time off, Rumplestiltskin had always told him when he required Jefferson's services.
"You wish for the evening off, do you not?" Rumplestiltskin said.
"Yes. I do," Jefferson fiddled with his collar, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
"As you have successfully obtained the dragon egg, I suppose you deserve the evening off."
"Thank you," Jefferson gave a small bow, shoving the last few strands of golden thread into his bag.
As he wandered through the forest, Jefferson couldn't quite shake the notion that the imp knew something he didn't. He'd been far too irritable that morning to just let his business partner take the evening off and his devilish smile meant only one thing: Rumplestiltskin had looked into his future again.
'But of course,' Jefferson thought, 'he won't tell me what he's seen.'
"I think I know why you said this was a bore," Jefferson muttered glumly.
This was the first and last favour he was ever doing for Victor. Everything at the ball was as dull as the black and white realm itself: the orchestra's music was monotone, the guests stood stiffly in groups politely chatting and even the alcohol was weak. Jefferson tapped at his glass before drinking the remaining wine inside.
"I've had to attend one since I was ten," Victor groaned, hastily drinking from his re-filled glass as he waved at another cluster of 'family friends'.
"I swear," he said to Jefferson, "if anyone else asks me about my father's business trip I'll-" Victor paused as the orchestra struck up a more lively tune, couples drifting towards the middle of the hall to dance.
"Speaking of which, are all of your family friends old couples?" Jefferson sighed, watching the dancing, "where are the young, attractive women for me to dance with?"
Victor opened his mouth to reply, when over the music came the sound of someone calling his name. From the crowd came a girl, smiling brightly at them both. Dazed, Jefferson smiled back.
'As if by magic,' Jefferson thought. He could still feel himself smiling, even after she had fondly embraced Victor.
"Jefferson, this is Elizabeth, my younger sister."
Elizabeth extended a hand, which Jefferson took. He knew she was probably expecting him to shake it, but instead Jefferson lifted her hand slightly and pressed his lips to Elizabeth's pale skin. Only then did he notice the metal band around her ring finger. He straightened up, hoping his embarrassment wasn't clear on his cheeks. But Elizabeth hadn't seemed to have noticed, laughing softly before teasing Victor:
"None of your other fellow scientists are so charming!"
"Jefferson isn't exactly a scientist," Victor replied, meeting Jefferson's eye with a glare.
"It's a long story," he continued, before Elizabeth could ask any questions, "and you should find your fiancé."
Elizabeth nodded, disappearing into the crowd. Jefferson watched her twist and turn past the dancers, straining to hear her laughter as she was briefly chatted to several guests, before reuniting with a tall, cloaked figure on the far side of the hall. He looked away when she kissed his cheek.
"I probably ought to have warned you," Victor said, "but I thought as she was my sister you would have had the respect to not flirt with her."
With that, he turned away, suddenly very interested in the conversation being held by the two generals stood next to them. Jefferson topped up his wine glass, fixing a grim smile on his face, trying to hide the fact that his pride was just a little wounded by Victor's words. He began contemplating leaving the party and going back to a certain tavern when a hand caught his elbow.
Startled, Jefferson turned to see Elizabeth was behind him.
"I was wondering, would you like to accompany me to the balcony overlooking the gardens?"
"What about your fiancé?" Jefferson asked.
"I've managed to shake him off, for now at least. I wish to talk more with you, if that's alright with you," Elizabeth said, "you seem interesting," She added with a wink.
For a moment Jefferson hesitated. Usually, an engagement ring hadn't stopped Jefferson, but Victor's comment was still on his mind. Taking one last swig of the pathetic excuse for red wine, Jefferson took Elizabeth's arm and began to walk. She led him past the dancers towards a window, connected to a stone balcony. Once they were both outside, Elizabeth closed the window behind them, the music fading away. The early spring air was cooler than Jefferson had anticipated, though it was a welcome relief from the hall, which suddenly seemed to have been very stuffy.
Elizabeth slipped her arm out of Jefferson's, walking over to the railings, before facing him.
"So- are you from that realm Victor visited: the one with all the colours?"Elizabeth asked.
"Indeed, Jefferson figured it was best to tell the truth, as he could hardly deny that he was not colourless like her and Victor.
"From what Victor wrote in his letters to me, it sounds marvellous."
"Oh it is," Jefferson placed a hand on her shoulder.
"And there are other realms out there too, as far as the eye can see," he said, stretching out his other arm and motioning in a semi-circle around them.
"Just today, I was in a realm called 'Middle Earth', where I fought a dragon."
"I don't believe you!" Elizabeth replied, smiling as though she knew that was the exact opposite of what Jefferson had expected to hear.
"If you'd fought a dragon," she deliberated, "then you would surely have some sort of battle wound, or a token of your victory?"
Jefferson turned to face her, bemused at how seriously she was taking his claim. Unlike most, Elizabeth seemed harder to impress, but he liked a challenge. Jefferson responded with one of his infamous grins, yet Elizabeth remained undeterred.
"Perhaps 'fighting' the dragon was a slight exaggeration..." Jefferson admitted.
"Slight?"
"Well, I was stealing its egg, and only a fool would fight a dragon face on. I used a sleeping potion and snuck in whilst the dragon was sleeping," he explained, "although the creäture did damn near burn me to a crisp."
Elizabeth laughed, stopping short as she glanced back behind them towards the ballroom.
"Jump over the ledge," she ordered, pointing to the balcony.
"What?"
"It's not that far off the ground. Now unless you want your blood as the Count's next beverage, I suggest you jump."
"Your fiancé is a vampire?"
"For goodness sake, just jump!" Elizabeth hissed, pushing Jefferson over the ledge.
He deftly landed on the grass below, his fingers keeping his hat firmly on his head. The sound of footsteps grew louder and Jefferson hide beneath the balcony, eavesdropping upon the conversation that drifted down to his ears.
"...just getting some air. No, I was alone." Jefferson heard Elizabeth say rather defensively.
"Come back inside. I hoped we could dance," the Count replied, with an accent Jefferson couldn't quite place.
He waited until their voices had faded away and there was nothing but the silence around him before emerging from beneath the balcony. Jefferson soon found the gate out of the gardens and headed back to the woods, where the steel doors that lead to the hat's hallway awaited him. He stepped through: although Jefferson no longer had any intentions of seeking the company of barmaids and fools to beat at gambling. Not that night.