Jefferson

His laugh did nothing to calm her, only make her feel more ill for the fear that now crept out of every shadowy recess of her mind.

When he spoke, she frowned. “What?” She asked him, disbelieving. Rumpelstiltskin was dead? But he couldn’t be killed! … Could he? She shook her head, finding she was even terrified by that news, despite being unsure if she believed it or not. If someone had killed her mentor, could she be next? And what came of all his power? What of her power? Was magic truly not the salvation he promised?

"I don’t understand," she breathed out, brow furrowing deeply as she looked him over. His promise to protect her was just as odd as his presence, and yet the same grief that had nearly just pushed her to take her own life was now gripping her once more, making the girl-queen want to throw herself into his arms and cry. But she couldn’t. If this was Jefferson, if it was only her sorrow coloring him someone else, then she still could not risk him being found.

If she lost him as well, she would have nothing left to live for.

Bristling when he moved closer, but staying put, Regina stared up at him as wide-eyed as ever. Somehow from this position he didn’t seem so off, his eyes were as warm as they had ever been, and almost as blue as they were in her every dream.

A wary smile, and teary nod came at his question.

A hand raised to caress her cheek, slightly scaling but not rough enough to be noticeable, he hoped. But the touch was more than this new power was ready for, and it demanded of more. He leaned down and placed a kiss against her lips, a contrast to all he was becoming — soft, warm, the sensation it caused seemed to still him even moreso, as his skin gained a little more color, more still when he allowed their lips to brush again. And then the voice that spoke was not a forced tone, it was how he sounded before, brought back by her and her alone.

    Make you mine

But I have to behave

                              Though I never was,

Michael Faudet