Monday, November 26, 2012

A price

Instead of making an account on (which I have spent far too much time on during my short life). I'm going to be posting a little bit of fiction here since this is supposed to be my fiction/character/creative side blog.

I do not own any of the characters from the TV show Once Upon A Time. I simply got the urge to write about an original character who is a bit darker than my usual brand of misguided misfits. Plus, I think this type of character would be an awesome addition.

So here is a "one-shot wonder" I came up with only a few minutes ago. 

A Price

Mr. Gold’s pawnshop was a dark mess of wanted things. The red haired teenager looked around the dim room. She knew some of the objects better than Rumplestiltskin did. She’d been the one to strike those deals, after all. Petty little children’s toys that sat within glass cases. Practice cases from when she was small.
The door’s bell rang as someone else entered and the girl ducked behind the shelves, waiting to see whom it was. An auburn haired young woman with a red ribbon holding her hair back closed the door. The woman walked past all of the items in the store and to the back room. The girl followed her on light footsteps, her boots not making a single sound.
The girl watched the woman leave a package on the kitchen table, a book from the size and shape. The woman smelled like books. A librarian maybe, she had seen a library in the town on her way to Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shoppe. Using the back door, the woman left and the girl was free to explore.
Upstairs there were three bedrooms, only one of them being used. So the woman didn’t sleep here, although the second bedroom was clearly decorated for a woman. The girl could see Rumple’s design in every object. He never left anything to chance. He was meticulous down to the last detail. Except, the girl noted, for a shadow of dust on the bedside table. A cup had rested there for a long time before it was moved. The old man was getting soft. Perhaps it had something to do with that woman who left the book. What she wouldn’t trade to see what that book was.
Rumple always said that her curiosity would be her downfall.

The third bedroom was decorated for a child. A boy. Of course, Rumple had forgotten all about her. He didn’t want to remember her. No one remembered her anyway. She was a failed deal. She was supposed to have been kept hidden away, and she hadn’t been. The magic she had been cursed with marked her, as it had Rumple.
He had a son once, when he was still a coward. He never could just let things go, always had to carry a grudge, always had to get revenge. He was clever though, more so than Regina. He was clever enough to have turn a broken deal into a device, his own little spy. His errand runner. His deal maker. Everything but biological.

She crept back down to the shop to have a second look. There must be a few things of hers lying around someplace. Her knife, for instance. She could survive anything with that strapped inside her boot. Swords were so bulky and untrustworthy. Knives learnt you the way you learnt them, and worked with you as the best extension of your arm. Maybe her darts were around here as well. A girl could never be too careful.
She was so engrossed in her search that her ears pricked up a second too late. Treasure hunting was a weakness.
“Looking for something, dearie?” His voice was so much less insane here, like he actually had control of himself. Would he even recognize her now? She turned around and tilted her head, smiling at his surprised eyes.
“Hello dad.”
“Jinx.” The name scorched her, but she didn’t show it, there was power in every name.
“I’m hurt.” She simpered. “Are we at the name-calling stage already?” Jinx ran her fingers over a glass-domed clock. “Should I give you your name?”
“No need for that.” His voice was so much calmer it almost unsettled her. She knew, how well she knew, that he’d giver her anything to not use his name. “What do I call you now?”
“Wylie will suffice.” She slid onto the counter and crossed her legs, noticing the flinch he gave. He leaned on a cane. Wylie wondered how much magic he still had in this world. “A woman left a package for you in the kitchen. Nice place you’ve got now.”
The door opened and the auburn haired woman came back inside, “Rumplestilt-“ She paused, getting a first look at the red haired youth sitting on the counter as if she’d been there all her life. “Who’s this?”
“Wylie Gold, I think.” The girl turned her head to Gold, who gave the briefest of nods. “Pleased to meet you.” Oh yes, the old man did have a soft spot. Wylie wondered what would happen if this woman knew Rumple’s real name.
“Belle,” The woman provided. “Are you two related?” Belle’s gaze flickered between the two. They didn’t look much alike.
“Belle,” Mr. Gold stepped between the two women and placed his free hand on Wylie’s shoulder. He would have to recognize her now. “This is my adopted daughter, Wylie.”
Of course not biological, she was never biological. Never accepting responsibility for the fault that was his. He’d pay in time.
After all, magic always comes with a price.

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