Enchanted Forest

A shudder rippled down my spine, brought about by the stinging cold that nipped at my fingertips and stole the color from my lips. I huddled in my father's jacket, trying vainly to rub some much-needed warmth into my arms, though with my hands as frost-bitten as they were, the effect was somewhat dulled.

The needle-like cold pricked at every inch of exposed skin, worming its way through the chinks in my makeshift armor (father's weather-beaten jacket hardly qualified as such, but it still served as my only real protection against the frigid conditions, and for that I was grateful).
Father'd been gone for some time, now. Mother, too; she'd left me with the promise that when she returned, we'd set off again, with or without father. She was under the assumption that he would have wanted that, for us to reach our destination despite not doing so as a family. I wasn't as certain those were his wishes, but I wasn't in any position to argue. We were making this godforsaken journey on my account, after all.

Drawing my knees to my chest, I cupped my hands around my mouth, huffing out short breaths in quick intervals in the hopes of keeping my fingers from going numb. It wasn't helping, not as much as I would have liked, but it kept me focused if nothing else, and I was fairly sure keeping my head was just as important as staving off future loss of limb. That's what I told myself as the drifting snow fell around me, thick as fog and twice as lonely, encasing me in a web of icy chains, loose tendrils ensnaring legs and arms, hands and feet, wrapping around my throat and stealing whatever warmth had trickled down into my core.

Soon breathing would become difficult, would ravage my throat until it was red and raw. My chest would ache with an uncanny fierceness, then - just as suddenly - there would be nothing. Nothing at all, nothing but a great emptiness. And then would come the blissful heat, a false hope for survival that I would reach for with frozen hands.

After that, well... I could imagine my end would be a peaceful one, at least. That had to count for something, didn't it?

Stupid! Thinking like that... that's not me, that... can't be me. That's not how I was raised. Stop wallowing in 'what ifs', it won't get you anywhere... Just wait a while longer. Mama and Papa, they'll be back soon, they'll come back...

I slapped both hands to my cheeks, squeezing my eyes shut as the dry, wind-bitten skin smarted sharply. But with the pain came clarity, and as my eyes fluttered open, I could see past the curtain of swirling, iridescent flakes - I could see the huddled figures on the clearing's edge, shuffling closer and closer, hoods over their heads, cloaks billowing out behind them.

The exhaustion that had taken root this past hour fled the moment my father raised his head and the wind teased the hood away from his face. He broke into a soft, tentative smile, one I recognized as being rather half-hearted, but it was as if the sun's rays had burnt through the overhang of clouds and washed over me, because the wintry cold may as well have been an unpleasant memory as I trudged across the barren clearing and fell into my father's arms.

"Elisabetta!" he breathed, stumbling back a step but righting himself in the next moment. His clumsy gloved hand cradled the crown of my head as he pulled me against him, and I was embraced in his familiar, earthy scent - pine needles and livestock and early mornings spent in the glow of the crackling fire. "Are you alright? My child, I'm so sorry for leaving you by yourself, we shouldn't have..."

"Papa, Papa, I'm--" The words perched on the tip of my tongue, ready to spring forth and assure my father that his guilt was unnecessary, that I was fine now that he and mother had returned. And yet what I said was something altogether foreign. "You should have come quicker, I was about to turn to ice! You're awful!"

Uncertainty seized my heart. There it was again. A thought that wasn't my own. And now that treacherous thought had forced its way off my lips, without my bidding.

Father seemed to think my response so uncharacteristic as to be humorous, as he chuckled warmly, bringing his forehead to mine, a gentle smile on his lips.

"You've the same strong will as your mother, Elisabetta," he said, with a furtive glance at my mother. In her silence, I'd almost forgotten she was here. "You'll need it, my child, so nurture it as best you can. For now, though, forget your worries. We're almost there; I just confirmed that it's only another hour's trek east from here."

I furrowed my brow, tugging anxiously on the clasp of father's cloak. "Papa, where are we going? You never told me..."

"Where?" he echoed, his voice dropping to a whisper. I strained to hear him over the wind's incessant howl as he spoke again, only the movement of his craggy lips prompting me to listen.
"Elisabetta... we're going to see the most powerful man in our realm, the only man capable of saving you. And his name... his name is Rumpelstiltskin."

The name conjured vague images of magic and fear, the likes of which brought about another racking shiver that took firm hold of my shoulders. My father rushed a troubled apology, tucking me under his cloak, perhaps mistaking my reaction as one from the snow that had begun to crust within my hair.

My lips parted silently, my shaken heart unwilling to verbalize another of my traitor thoughts. Planting a seed of doubt in my father's good will would do nothing but bring us both pain; that much was utterly certain to me, and I burrowed my face into his shoulder, lips sealed as though the glacial frost had frozen them together.

The wind whipped violently around us, raking stiff and clawed fingers through my hair, snatching at my father's cloak, my mother's dress. Nestled in my father's arms, I was saved from the worst of it, the crystal shards that now bit in skin and coaxed tears from squinted eyes; only fair, the traitor-thoughts whispered to me, with how you nearly froze back there.
But it wasn't only fair - it wasn't. 

So why did I insist on spinning such a lie even to myself?

____________________________________________

The castle rose up from the white-capped forest like a black mountain, simultaneously piercing and eclipsing the churning gray sky above it. The forest surrounded it almost completely, aside from the well-worn path that brushed up against the grand entrance; but to me, it seemed as though the trees were bending away from the castle, branches stretched and swaying towards the sky only because they felt the sky was not ruled by this castle's dark master.

Dark master.

Rumplestiltskin.

The name had meant nothing more than vague feelings and a hollow sense of dread to me before, but now I could recall sharply the image of a man, twisted and broken, his face cracked, bloody, split open. He'd wandered through our village, begging for assistance, crying out for water, for a healer - and then he'd dropped dead in the middle of the square, mid-sentence.
Father had swept in and bustled me home, his hands clamped tight over my ears even while he whispered words of comfort and solace, wanting to drown out the wailing of the village, the proclamations of prophecy and death. They were empty words to me - I'd seen a man die - but I'd clung to them all the same, wanting much the same as he did.

Later, when they'd fancied me asleep, mother and father had spoken in rough voices to one another as they sat together in front of the hearth. No fire had been lit, though that hadn't seemed to matter; they'd sat there, together, shoulders pressed together, hands entwined in their laps. 

The name Rumplestiltskin had passed between them only once, and then they'd fallen silent, as though the four syllables had dragged the rest of their voices out with them when they fell from their trembling lips.

Back then, in that moment, I hadn't understood my parents' fear.
Now I lived it.

Fingers curled into my father's chest, I watched, breathless, shaken, wide-eyed, as those heavy wooden doors flung themselves open, moments before we'd reached them. But, no - not by themselves. A man stood just behind them, arms out in either welcome or warning. 

Another shudder rippled through me, though this time, I didn't recognize it as my own.

"Come, come," the man laughed giddily when the three of us had only stood there, blistering in the cold. He folded himself into a dramatic bow, motioning for us to cross the entryway. "You've traveled quite far, hm? No use shrivelling up in the wind out here before you've even given me the reason for your visit."

Reluctantly, my father moved forward; my mother lagged behind, only unlocking from her statuesque position when beckoned to by my father.

They stepped over the threshold into the warmth of a crackling (but unseen) fire and the doors fell shut behind them without the aid of human hands.

"We...." Father trailed off, licking his lips. I stared up from my place at his chest, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. Rarely was he ever at a loss for words; it was one of his greatest talents, one of the reasons for earning my mother's devotion.

"Speak up, dearie," the man - Rumplestiltskin - urged, rolling his hand. His skin glinted gold in the too-warm lighting, and I couldn't be sure it was natural or other. "It's not polite to test the patience of the man you've come seeking to solve all your problems!"

"Our daughter, she's.... she's been cursed."

"Has she now?" There was interest in this gold man's eyes now; I ducked my head, pressing my forehead to the hollow of my father's neck.

"Yes... it, it was my fault. We begged a sorcerer to save our cattle last autumn, when a sickness invaded our village and we couldn't afford to lose them, and he... he wanted gold in return, of course he did. I promised him whatever he asked, and he saved them, he did, and said he would give us a year to pay our debt."

"I take it you're not here to barter for gold," Rumplestiltskin giggled, the sound high and keening and so very wrong to my young ears. 

"No, we..." 

"Can you help her?"

That was mother, stepping forward for the first time, the sodden ends of her dress slapping against her ankles, her hands wringing themselves raw at her breast.

Rumplestiltskin turned his fervent gaze on me, and I hunched further into myself, shoulders drawn up to my ears. It was cowardly, I knew, but new chills were dripping down my spine, and just the very thought of meeting his eyes turned my breath into frost, eating away at everything warm and living inside me.

He stared unblinkingly, appraising - and then the moment passed and he smiled with teeth, a manic giggle breaking the quickly encroaching silence.

"I can," he said, far too pleased, far too bright, "for a price, naturally. All magic comes with a price, dearies, and that's a lesson I'm sure you've taken to heart."

"A price," father echoed, numbly. He was already nodding.

"A price," Rumpelstiltskin agreed, with a flourish.

I thought, fleetingly, that, all theatrics aside, I had never met anyone quite so horrifying before.

______________________________________

Storybrooke

"Emma! How's Henry? He holding up alright?"

I closed my eyes, bending over the steaming mug cradled between my hands. Its blessed warmth crept into my stiff, unresponsive fingertips, winding its way outward from there, melting the ice from veins and uncoiling taut muscles as it went. 

 The chatter rose and fell at my back, drifting around me, as insubstantial as the memory-made snow I was still hopelessly attempting to shake from my shoulders. Coffee, I reminded myself, breathing in the godly aroma, raising the mug to my lips and swallowing another molten mouthful, coffee first, mindfuckery later.

It was mindfuckery, whatever was going on with my head. Thoughts and feelings - alien and unfamiliar, yet altogether me - pressed against my consciousness, intermingling with the here and now, and sometimes it just wasn't the here and now any longer. Sometimes I was back in that iced-over forest, swathed in a too-large leather jacket, sniffling and lonesome while the snow piled up around me, snaring me, holding me; and then I would blink and the scene would vanish, replaced with the welcome reds and whites of Granny's diner and the smell of grease and Ruby's rosy perfume.

Not Ruby, I corrected, looking up briefly to watch the dark-haired girl bounce along the counter, refilling drinks and exchanging greetings as she went, red lips quirked into a sunny smile. Red. She's always been Red. Just didn't remember that till now. 

The curse was broken, magic had been unleashed. And here we were, still shackled to Storybrooke, unable to return home. 

 I wasn't complaining, per se. Sure, I should have been, everyone else was (whether internally, like I suspected Red to be, or externally, like Grumpy, who'd made his usual pit stop at the diner this morning with the other dwarves flocking around him, and hadn't said anything useful apart from his declaration that he'd find where the magic was hidden away in town); but I couldn't bring myself to get worked up about it in quite the same way. I was still testing something out, needed more time until I was certain. 

 An entire day had passed since the wave of purple smoke had engulfed Storybrooke, ushering in the next era of magic in an otherwise unmagical world. Our pocket of life stood out even more starkly than it had before, and yet we still weren't on any maps. Funny how I'd never thought to Google Storybrooke before; then again, what with me never having any desire to leave, I suppose I never would have needed directions back into town. 

 But about the smoke. People were settling down, somewhat, shelving the issue of magic for the time being in favor of scouring the town for loved ones, brothers and sisters, lovers and parents. Snow and Charming (I still snorted at the moniker, a lifetime after the name first got a laugh out of me) had had their dramatic reunion yesterday, and as far as I knew, were now busy organizing things around town - and trying to convince Emma Swan that they were one big happy family.

(I snorted at that, too; couldn't help myself)

The chink of glass against the formica counter distracted me from my inner musings, and I sat back, blinking up through my lashes at Red's coy smile. She raised a brow, nodding at my three-quarters empty mug; I gave a noncommittal shrug in return. She topped me off anyway.

"Melanie, right?" 

I bit my lip. 

  And so it begins. 

 "That's right," I agreed, "and you're Red. I can't say I ever thought I'd get to meet you, you being all famous among us peasants and whatnot."

Her smile hitched at the corner, though whether with amusement or misgivings, I wasn't sure. Either way, I flicked my eyes away and stared down into the depths of my coffee.

"Call me Ruby if you want," she said amiably. "Honestly, at this point? Doesn't make much of a difference. But I gotta ask: Who were you? Back in the Enchanted Forest," she amended when I'd only stared blankly at her for a moment.

Okay. To be clear, I wasn't a total asshole. Not every waking moment, anyway. And I wasn't intentionally trying to get on Red's bad side (God knows I could easily picture myself with her fangs around my throat if I so much as threatened her with my surliness). It - I just didn't like this line of questioning. I'd been dreading it, in fact, since the curse shattered and our memories came flooding back into heads too small to contain such staggeringly different lives. A part of me had hoped I was so nondescript that I'd get looked over entirely by anyone who didn't already know me; but then I'd caught wind of the plans to catalogue everyone in town, see just how many of us were ripped away from the forest. So, ultimately, I'd known this was coming. That didn't make my reaction to it any more pleasant.

"No one, really," I said, shortly. "A peasant in the wrong kingdom, apparently."

Red pursed her lips, turning to rest her hip on the counter, arms folded under her chest.

"Boring. Give me some details, Mel" - an eyebrow lifted, half-amused, half-unsure - "something, anything. You've gotta have some stories about Regina at least, huh?"

Regina. The Evil Queen. Frowning, I considered her, past and present, and - no. No, I really didn't have any stories. I'd suffered under rule; everyone had. But no more than anyone else, and nothing that had gone wrong with me personally could be traced back to her dark magicking ways. Yeah, there were taxes and knights trampling through the village in search of the outlaw Snow White; there were unexplained deaths and gruesome disappearances; the uncomfortably knowledge that as long as she reigned as queen, nothing would ever be peaceful.

But my problems really had nothing to do with her, in any sense.

"Some," I said vaguely, making an indistinct hand gesture that hopefully conveyed the unimportance of my own tales. "Nothing anyone hasn't heard before, though." I tried for a smile, settled for something less than a grimace. "Normal life, normal girl. I promise."

Red seemed rather disappointed at my lack of terror-inducing, age-old excitement, but I only shrugged again, taking another sip of coffee.

"Henry's book might have something on you," she said, not quite a challenge, but not exactly just a friendly suggestion either. I could relate, a little; I doubted she wanted an unknown amidst the high-strung townspeople already looking for an outlet for their unrefined rage. Everyone knew everyone - that was how it was supposed to be.

"I'm not noteworthy enough to have a fairytale of my own; I'm not surprised," I said, my smile a trifle more genuine than before. "I was just an unfortunate girl, wrong time, wrong place. It happens."

She wasn't placated, I could tell, but then Emma, seated at her usual booth, was calling for her, and Red flashed a beaming smile (that wasn't forced in the slightest, wow) in her direction. She snatched her notepad from the counter and sauntered out from behind it to take her order; I slumped back into my seat, glad her attention had been snagged.

The coffee wasn't quite doing it for me now.

Damnit.

Staying here wasn't going to do me any good. I'd wallow in self-pity for a while, berate myself for it later, possibly convince myself getting drunk was just a splendid idea, and then - then I'd be waking up the next morning, cursing the daylight, sprawled haphazardly across the semi-soft couch I preferred over my bed, and wondering why the hell I ever started drinking again.

So, getting out for a bit seemed the better idea, even if I didn't have one iota of clue where I was going to go.

I pressed a hand over my eyes, exhaling slowly. Snow and ice, wind and darkness; someone was calling for me, shouting over the screeching that flitted between the trees; father, mother, you kept me waiting! 

God help me, I was going to have to look for them eventually. And no time was ever going to be better than now.

Dropping a handful of bills onto the counter, I spun off my stool and hurried through the door, ducking past a bemused Marco, or whoever he was, who still graciously held it open for me even as I ignored his greeting and shuffled out into the streets.

I couldn't recall ever seeing my parents around town, even with the veil lifted on my memories, the smudges wiped clean so that the faces rearranged themselves into the crystal-clear images of my youth. That didn't mean they weren't here; perhaps the curse had been engineered so that we wouldn't cross paths. And while that sounded hollow, even when only admitted in my thoughts, I still had to try.

I just wished I knew where to start.   

Literally started this a year ago; just finished the first chapter. My writing was better back then (I must have been on a kick for awhile or something), evidenced by the first half of the Enchanted Forest bit where everything doesn't suck as much. But I'm determined to tell this story even if I hate how I end up writing it, because it's been in head for a whole damn year, and I really want to just finish it. 

Ah, do me a favor, though? Tell me whenever I get the characters wrong; Rumpelstiltskin is difficult on a good day to pin down, and even people like Red and Snow and everyone are going to give me trouble, I just know it. So... nudge me in the right direction? Please?

In any case... I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! This won't be terribly long, I don't think, so I'll try to write longer chapters to compensate for that.