Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 1

The clock in my shop chimes, marking the hour.
3:00 in the afternoon.
    I grit my teeth a little, and sigh, looking at the handful of rings I keep running through my hand.
    One with a small, square, blue gemstone.
    One that looks braided.
    One that looks like a dragon wrapped around itself, coiling around the wearer's finger.
    One with a small, red, circular gemstone.
    And one with his family seal on it, a horse with crossed swords behind it, surrounded by wreaths. The phrase "Iustitia, probitas, integritas" is engraved along the bottom.
    All are made of some kind of gold, or iron, except for the family seal one, which is silver and mostly wrapped in a crimson ribbon.
    I grit my teeth a little again, glancing out of the doorway from the back room of my shop. I'm seated in the back room, at my desk, since the shop is empty. I look back forward, at the rings in my hand, when I hear the bell to the front door ring. I sigh, and stand, grabbing my cane. I put the rings back in the small silk bag I keep them in, and put it back in the front pocket of my coat. I walk out of the back room, and smile softly at Henry, glancing at Emma. "Henry," I say, "Ms. Swan...how can I help you?"
    Emma looks at Henry, and sighs softly. "We, uh...we found something, thought you might want a look," she says, setting a long package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine on either end, on the counter.
    "Leroy and the others were clearing out an old warehouse on the docks and found them," Henry says, "they looked special, so...we thought you might recognize them?" He looks up at me, hopefully.
    I nod a little, glancing at Emma. "Not anywhere in your storybook?" I ask, leaning my cane against the back of the counter, and starting to untie the twine around the package.
    She sighs softly. "Not that we could find," she says, shaking her head a little, "Look, we wouldn't be here if we had any other choice, Gold,"
    "You've made that abundantly clear, Ms. Swan," I say, simply, not looking up at her as I unwrap the package. I fully open the paper, and pause, my breath catching in my throat.
    Laying on my counter are two, expertly crafted, silver blades. Rapiers, who's filigree hilts are inlaid with rubies.
    Grit my teeth a little, feeling something, some kind of feeling blossom in my chest. Deep and warm. Hope? Fear?
    "You do recognize them!" Henry says.
    I clear my throat softly, glancing up at the boy. "Silver blades, wooden and leather grips, steel and ruby filigree guard..." I mutter, gently grabbing one and examining it, though avoiding touching the blade, "...I've seen them before, yes, but...the person they belong to is...long gone," I listen to my own words and hope that they're not true.
    Emma furrows her eyebrows. "I just found it weird how we found only the blades and not the scabbards..." she mutters.
    "And, why are they silver?" Henry asks.
    "They were forged from the silver candlesticks of a church in the Enchanted Forest," I say, "with the intent of killing 'impure' or 'dark' creatures. Silver has a purifying property that most monster hunters use to their advantage..."
    Emma nods a little, watching me carefully. "Who's swords are these, Gold?" She asks.
    I don't answer. "I can take those off your hands for you, if you'd like," I say, pulling them closer to me, "free of charge,"
    She grabs them, pulling them back toward her. "Not until you tell me who they belong to," she says, looking me in the eyes.
    A flash of anger makes my face flush, but take a deep breath. "An old friend of mine..." I mutter, trying to keep the venom, and the shake, from my voice, "...you wouldn't know of him, either of you...though, your parents may remember him, Ms. Swan," I slowly pull the swords back toward me.
    "Give. Me. A name," she says, quietly.
    I take a deep breath. "Sebastian Alderaen," I say, the name making my heart ache.
    She nods a little, and lets go of the swords. "Thank you," she says, then starts to back out of the shop. "Come on, Henry," she says.
    Henry seems to hesitate.
    I look at the boy. "You'd best follow your mother, Henry," I say.
    He looks at me, and seems like he wants to say something.
    "Unless...you have another question for me?" I ask him, tilting my head a little.
    He nods a little. "Can...can statues cry?" He asks.
    Emma sighs. "Henry, not this again..." she mutters.
    I furrow my eyebrows. "What do you mean?" I ask.
    He looks at her, then at me. "N-never mind," he says, then quickly follows Emma out of the shop.
    I watch them, thinking about the boy's question. "Statues...?" I mutter, then shake my head a little. I gently grab the swords and the paper they were wrapped in, and take them to my desk. I set them on the desk, and sit down at it. I sigh. "The swords, but no scabbards, and no Sebastian..." I mutter, my hand drifting to the bag of rings again. I take out the small silk bag, running it through my hand again. "Where could you be?" I mutter, and I find my mind drifting to the memory of when I first met him.
---
    Holding a lantern out in front of me, I hobble as best as I can after our wagon.
    "Do you need help, Papa?" Baelfire calls back to me, leading our mules that are pulling our cart.
    "N-no," I say, "I just...the muck here is thick, is all. I'll catch up, Bae, you just worry about the mules,"
    He sighs, stopping the wagon, and walking over to me. "Here..." he says, and gently grabs my arm, steadying me as I unstick one leg, then the other, stepping onto the dirt of the road.
    I smile a little at my son as I unstick my walking stick. "Thank you, son..." I mutter, patting his shoulder, "...I don't want you to worry about me, though..."
    "And I don't want you being attacked by beasts and bandits," he says, chuckling a little.
    I chuckle as well, patting his shoulder, and he helps me over to the cart. "Not much further to town, Bae," I say, "We should get there by morning,"
    He nods. "Do you want to sit in the cart for a bit, Papa?" He asks.
    I shake my head. "I'll be fine, Bae," I say, "I'll rest when we get to town,"
    He nods, grabbing the lead for the mules again, and we continue down the road.
    The night is cool and quiet in this part of the woods, and not a lot of other carts pass us as we travel. It's part of the reason why we travel at night.
    A little further down the road, I see an overturned wagon in the middle of the road.
    I quickly shuffle up to Baelfire, and grab his arm. "Bae..." I mutter, but it's too late.
    Dark figures of men are walking toward us, each holding some kind of weapon.
    "Papa?" Baelfire asks, and I turn to answer him, when someone grabs him, pulling him away from me.
    "No, Bae!" I say, turning to the man who had grabbed my son, holding a dagger to the boy's throat. "Please!" I plead, "Please, he's just a boy!"
    "Shut it!" The man growls, sending a well placed boot into my stomach, sending me falling to the ground.
    I cough, and collapse into the muck, hitting my head on a rock.
    "Papa!" Baelfire calls out, then I hear him struggling against the man.
    I struggle to catch my breath, staring up at the leaves and branches above me. My ears start to ring, and I can just barely hear some of the men drawing closer. My hearing clears, and I can hear someone, further in the woods, whistle. The tune doesn't register with me at first, but quickly I can recognize it.
All around the Mulberry Bush, The monkey chased the weasel.
    The whistle is slow, and haunting.
    The men all stop, looking around, confused.
    "Who the hell...?" One of the men says.
    One of the men walks up to me, pointing a sword down at my face. "You doin' this, worm?" He demands.
    I raise my hands, and shake my head, too scared to say anything.
    The whistle sounds off again, closer this time.
The monkey stopped to pull up his sock.
    The men look around, panicking more.
    "Where is that coming from?!" One asks, all of them looking out into the dark of the forest surrounding us.
    Suddenly, a figure appears behind the man pointing the sword at me.
    Crimson eyes reflect in the lantern light, the man a fair bit taller and stronger looking than the bandit. His clothes are disheveled and mud and bloodstained, a scar on his chest in the shape of a handprint. He reaches up to grab the bandit's head.
    "Pop!" The stranger says, twisting the bandit's head sharply, snapping his neck, "goes the weasel,"
    The man drops, falling on top of me, onto his own sword.
    The rest of the massacre is a blur as I watch the stranger, with terrifying speeds, dash from bandit to bandit, killing them. When he reaches the last bandit, he seems to bite the man's throat, like a beast, sinking his teeth into the man. There's a sickening squelch, and the man stays still as the bandit seems to go pale, and then seems to be drained not only of blood, but of age and vitality. The stranger drops the bandit, his back turned to me, and he drops to his knees, panting.
    All I can do is watch, pinned into the muck by the dead bandit. I try to steady my trembling breath, but I can't seem to, watching the man wipe his face with his hands then licking the blood from them.
    After a few minutes, the man shudders a little, and then the panting of, seemingly, joy, turns to fear or disgust. He shakingly stands up, spitting, and looks around. He seems shocked, as if he's just come to his senses about what he's done. He looks over at me, almost ashamed. He carefully walks toward me.
    Suddenly, my fear subsides, seeing the darkness and animalistic anger in his eyes replaced by shame and worry.
    "Bonjour..." he mutters, lifting the bandit from off of me, "I...I did not hurt you, did I?" He asks, kindly. His voice has a kind of exotic accent I haven't heard before.
    I shake my head a little.
    He nods, and offers a hand to help me stand. "I apologize greatly for frightening you..." he mutters, "...I suppose this is what I get for ignoring my hunger for so long..."
    I take his hand, and he helps me to my feet. I look around, still shaking a little, but realize that I don't see Baelfire. "Bae?" I mutter, then clear my throat, stepping away from the stranger, raising my voice, "Bae?! Baelfire?!"
    "Pardon?" The stranger asks, "Who are you looking for?"
    "M-my son," I say, "My son, he was being held captive by one of the bandits..."
    The man furrows his eyebrows. "I...I didn't see a young man..." he mutters, "...he must have gotten away with him..."
    I sigh, shuddering, it almost sounds like a whimper. I almost drop to my knees, but the stranger catches me.
    "There is still a chance, mon ami," he says, "we can find the bandit's camp, and find your son,"
    I take a deep, shaking breath, clinging to my walking stick. I nod, but I'm not sure. "I...I'll be of no help..." I say, "...I can't fight, I can barely walk or hold myself upright most of the day!"
    He chuckles a little. "I have more than enough fight for the both of us, mon ami," he mutters, "you'll just keep your son from danger, oui?"
    I take a deep breath. "W-who...who are you?" I ask, quietly.
    He pauses. "Ah," he says, "pardon et moi, where are my manners? I am Sebastian Alderaen, Creature of the Night," he smiles, a strange mischievous twinkle in his crimson red eyes. His teeth are like that of a cat's, long fangs on both top and bottom.
    I gasp a little, making him hide his fangs again, quickly. "N-no, you...you're alright, I just..." I clear my throat softly, "I've never met anyone like you before..." I clear my throat again. "Rumplestiltskin," I say, bowing my head a little, "weaver,"
    He nods. "Where were you and your son headed?" He asks, nodding to our wagon.
    "The next town over," I say, "to sell our goods at Market,"
    He nods a little. "We'll find your son," he says, patting my shoulder, "I swear on my family name,"
    I nod a little, following him as he helps me to the wagon, and I sit down on the back of the wagon, trying to think of how we'll find Baelfire.