What She Deserves

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Once upon a time there was a boy, a girl, and their father. Their names were Hansel, Gretel, and Micheal. The father's wife had died a few years ago, and ever since then Gretel took it upon herself to watch after her younger brother and help her father in anyway she could; so she did. 

She hunted, she cooked, she chopped wood, she mended clothing— she did everything she possibly could. As a result, her brother grew up stress free, and her father had less stress on his plate. How grateful he was to his daughter Gretel! He was contemplating how much she did as he woke up early one morning to stoke the fire, thinking on all that she did and wondering at his son's age. The siblings were five years apart, Gretel being sixteen and Hansel being eleven. 

Hansel was about the age Gretel was when his wife died, which is also when Gretel began to take up as many chores as possible. And so, with this thought, Micheal resolved that he would have the boy begin to help with the more strenuous household tasks.

He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, huffing a quiet laugh as Gretel's mirth-filled eyes met his own. "Have you collected any eggs from the coop yet father?" She whispered, patting his shoulder before walking towards the door and slipping her shoes on. His eyes flicked to the bed that his children shared, eyeing his still sleeping son for a moment before turning back to his daughter. "No, I haven't... But, uh, how about we wake your brother and have him do it this morning? It's about time he start taking on more of the chores."

She gave him an incredulous look, "Nonsense father, if you want him to start collecting the breakfast then you'll have to tell him the night before. We'll be waiting an hour before he decides to get up and collect some eggs." She huffed, grabbing a basket and peeling the door open. "It'll only take me a few moments, how about you start heating a pan?" She suggested, raising a brow before she turned and made her way out of the cottage. 

Her father sighed as the door thumped closed. She was right, he thought as he did as she requested, putting a pan over the fire. His son wasn't the most proactive worker, and would much rather live as though he were a wealthy mans son. Wanting for nothing and not having to work for anything either.

He dished a spoonful of animal fat into the pan, appreciating the sizzling sound as his daughter re-entered the house with a small basket full of eggs. Yes, Gretel was definitely the proactive one between the two. If she was a man she might be able to get farther in life. He sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched her grab a few spices. As it were, she was brilliant, but it would do her nothing as things were now. The millers wife's words rang through his head as she came to kneel beside him, "We have a son who is interested in your dear Gretel..."

"'Scuse me father." Gretel murmured, pulling him from his thoughts. He murmured an apology as he scooted out of the way and watched her work. No, he thought, there's no way he could let someone as incredible as his daughter marry the millers son. If there was only a way to give her the life she deserved... The life his wife would've wanted her children to have.

As Gretel plated their breakfast Hansel began to stir. She huffed a laugh as he pretended to just be waking up, knowing full and well that he had stirred when she had gotten out of bed. The little stinker... She knew he must have heard their conversation earlier, and had refused to get out of bed even then. She said nothing though, merely passing him a plate with a wink as he sat beside them. She would do anything for him, including letting him laze away in bed for one more day before father began to make him help out with more chores. 

Micheal watched the exchange with a small smile, his mind still caught on his previous thoughts. Perhaps there was a way to give them the life they deserved...


~~Storybrooke~~

Ava sighed as she sat up in her bed, the drip drip drip coming from the other room an irritating sound this early in the morning. She had had another fitful sleep last night and, as she got out of bed and glimpsed herself in the small mirror hanging from the wall, seriously considered getting that serum that she had saw at the convenience store earlier that week. It said it was supposed to help with dark circles and bags, and with how awful she looked she knew she'd give in by the end of the day.

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