Constant Stranger | Rumplestiltskin x Reader

Chapter Three

"You know better than to talk to her, Gold." She spoke low, adjusted the lapel of her jacket, stepped closer to him. "What did you give her?"

"No—I don't have any idea what you mean." He walked, trailed fingers light on the glass. "Now, are you going to tell me why you've so loudly burst into my shop and frightened a customer?"

The silence buzzed, Regina measured his movements.

"Well?"

She smiled. "I think you remember."

"Remember what?" He looked over his shoulder.

"Don't play dumb, Gold—you get rid of Emma, or I get rid of Y/n."

***

You perched the snail on your windowsill—pooled green light—crouched down eye-level, tried to place the feeling it gave you, of nostalgia, of soft fire down your throat.

Someone knocked on your door, and you faltered on an implacable urge to hide the bottle—romantic? preservation?—but didn't.

Mary Margaret smiled when you answered, motioned to the stairs behind her. "Y/n! Emma's up in my loft right now, and I thought it'd be a great opportunity for you to meet—she's got Henry with her, too, and I know you know how great his imagination is."

Fantastic—something to distract from the nausea quelled in your spleen, Mr. Gold's hold on you. You'd served Henry hot chocolate quite a few times before school, sometimes after, and, recently, he'd been transfixed by a Once Upon a Time book. "I'm excited to meet her."

You both climbed the stairs, but, before getting to the landing, she put a hand on your arm. "Are you okay? How'd it go with Mr. Gold?"

"It was good, he was—kind."

"Kind—wow—Mr. Gold?" She blinked and shook her head.

Henry sat at the counter, storybook open, with Emma behind him, leaning forward, her hand on the marble—he pointed to a picture, watched for her reaction, and she started to say something you didn't catch.

"Hey, Emma—this is Y/n—she lives below me and works at Granny's."

You met each other halfway, shook hands, and you smiled. "Nice to meet you, Emma."

"You, too." She glanced at Henry, Mary Margaret, hesitated. "Henry wanted to ask you something."

"Sure—of course—what's up, Henry?" You walked to stand across from him, and he curled his fingers around the top of the book, looked at you curiously—

"I can't figure out who you are."

"Henry—" Mary Margaret cut in, gentle.

"No, no, it's okay." He thought Mary Margaret was Snow White, Mayor Mills the Evil Queen—you'd wondered who he considered you to be. "Any clues?"

"You were a task, supposed to be killed by—oh—it doesn't say—but someone saves you."

***

Enchanted Forest:

The hall was deep and dramatic: shelves, cabinets, filled with countless trinkets from every crevice of the Enchanted Forest and beyond. You pinched your nail-beds, his eyes whittled over you, flagrant. "Quaint, isn't it?"

You smiled, cautious, blood thick-pulsed behind your ears. "Needs more swords."

He stared another few moments, collarbone to face. "So—the deal, Y/n."

"I will give you any part of me, whatever you want." You tried to recall the words, blurred vibrations, but your lungs burned, and you looked at him, desperate. "For—for—"

His chilled fingertips grazed the purple bruises on your neck, reaching like irises, the touch unsettlingly safe, and you closed your eyes for a beat.

"Tempting, dearie—" He whispered, breath slicing over your jaw. "If this comforts you, I'd recommend reevaluating the people in your life."

"A memory potion."

He stepped back without breaking eye contact and said, prancing intonation: "For whom?"

"Me. I promise."

"But—I don't like being tricked—" He grinned with a flourished hand gesture, hard gaze. "I'll tell you what, dearie: you give me a name, the person who put you up to this, and I'll—give you whatever you desire."

Touch me again. The space, cavernous, reverberated around your skin, his presence magnetic.

He shrugged, dismissive. "Of course, I could also just put you in the dungeon until you decide to talk. Your choice."

"I—"

"Dungeon it is!" He giggled, circled your forearm.

After a choke of mist, you stood beside him in a stone cell, blue ribbon cinched around your wrists.