#shadowthecannibal

A beautiful, middle-aged woman lounged back in her luxuriously black office chair. Her impeccably kept eyebrows knitted together in a vexed manner, honeyed brown eyes glaring at the document before her.

To Whom It May Concern:

I, Mr. Gold, take full ownership of all legal documents, notes, bonds, titles, and such-and-suches of Storybrooke, Maine. A debt-swap deal has taken place upon the primacies of Miss Isabelle French’s home, witness by Maurice Moe French and Gaston Rose. Our contract states that I, Mr. Gold, shall fix the corruption and bankruptcy brought about by Ogre Loan & Co.. In exchange I have taken Miss French as my permanent personal assistant.

R. Gold

“Damn him,” she cursed, sliding a document off to the side. “Damn that imp.”

“Damn him indeed, dearie.”

The woman’s breath hitched in surprise as she spun around, eyes widening in shock. “If you think you can just come in here—“

“Or you’ll do what, Your Majesty?” her uninvited guest tittered, emerged from the shadows of her private office. Instantly, the woman relaxed with a soft sigh of relief and slumped back against her chair. Damn him, again!

Regina Mills, Storybrooke’s “queenly” mayor, scowled at the imp who sauntered before her desk, smiling puckishly. He had not changed since the last time she saw him last week – svelte and wiry, the crocodile-skinned mage stood with all the arrogance and confidence of a haughty royal; though, the thick dragon-leather he sported around in spoke of something much darker than royalty. The mayor watched as the mid-afternoon light, filtering in through the window behind her, cast a grayish hue and golden glittery-ness to the imp’s complexion once the sunlight hit him just right.

Her lips thinned into a tight smile. “Rumplestiltskin.”

“Regina,” the imp trilled, his more-or-less hidden burr slipping out a tad. “So lovely to see you again. How is wee Henry?”

The mayor’s lightly vexed expression turned into an eye roll at the mention of her son. She pushed her chair back and stood up elegantly. “He’s fine. You did see him last week,” she sniffed. “So, Rumple. Wish to explain this?” Regina held up the fancily written document and waved it around.

“Hmm? Means what it means, dearie.”

Scowling harder, Regina set the paper back and walked to her make-shift bar where she fussed over a crystal decanter containing a fine mead. “I thought I made it very clear that I don’t need your help.”

Rumpelstiltskin snorted. “Well, clearly you do, dearie. Some slip of a girl had to be the one to tell me of your and the town’s insolvent. Trying to keep my very existence a secret didn’t work out so well in the end, aye?”

The woman clenched her jaw. Regina could feel the imp moving around the room, no doubt watching her like a hawk; she could hear the scrunching of his leather garb, creaking thickly. Although greatly disturbed by his sudden arrival, Regina couldn’t say that she found his presence in itself disturbing – she was beyond used to it, after all. She saw the imp every damn week. But it pissed her off that he suddenly thought it all fine and dandy to abruptly take over as town landlord.

“Why don’t you go die in a hole?” she barked with remarkable poise for such poisonous words.

Gawking, the imp mimed a gesture of hurt and touched his heart. In a shrill voice, Rumpelstiltskin said, “Tsk! I thought I raised you better than that – trying to shoo me away so soon? Not even one kiss for Daddy?”

“Daddy?” Regina echoed crossly as she poured a glass of mead for them. “You are not my father.”

Tutting, he uses the snarky quip, “But Henry calls me Grandpa!”

Once again, Regina growls and miraculously manages to not strangle the imp. Instead, she walks over and hands him a tumbler of mead. Rumpelstiltskin happily takes the offering and then insolently sprawls himself on Regina’s sleek black couch. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him before she gracefully seated herself down in her personal armchair. Daintily sipping her own drink while she glowered at the imp who was busy studying her black and white office, with its forest-in-winter printed walls and a magnificent horse sculpture atop the mantelshelf, and a small steady fire going in the grate.

When Rumpelstiltskin’s reptilian eyes finally landed on her, Regina straightened her back and glared over the crystal rim of her tumbler. She lowered it to her lap. “Why are you going around making deals in my town, Rumple? Where did the urge to play landlord all of a sudden come from?”

He sniffed. “You know my game, Regina. When someone wants to deal, we deal. I haven’t approached anyone who hasn’t summoned me first. You have little Miss French to thank for that.”

“This, this French girl – that’s the librarian, isn’t it? Henry loves her, you know. Keeping her all to yourself will make my son quite upset,” she said, crossing her long legs clothed in a suave suit pants.

The imp swirled the contents of his tumbler before speaking again. “I am well aware she’s the librarian. But, and I’ll say this again,” Rumpelstiltskin smirked, “she summoned me.”

Regina furrowed her brows and stiffened. “How the hell did she even get the means for that? Have you—“ she paused with a dark thought. “Is Henry involved in this?”

“Hehe, no, missy. Henry hasn’t a clue and has loyally kept his mouth shut. But not everyone is oblivious to my existence, you know! It was so cute of you to convince everyone that I’m just a dusty old fable to scare children into not misbehaving.”

“Do you want something? Or does butting in my territory amuse the living hell out of you and you simply have nothing better to do? I told you – don’t need your help.”

Shaking his head in a childish manner, the imp countered, “I’m not butting in anywhere, and I’m not, per se, helpingyou. I’m helping Miss French. She made the deal with me. She paid the price fair and square.”

“This is my town, Rumpelstiltskin. I’ll do what I damn well please,” the woman declared disdainfully. “You had absolutely no right to get yourself involved in my business.” Standing up, Regina put away their empty tumblers with her temper flaring.

“Well, it’s all done now. Might as well get used to it.”

“Whatever. Where are you squatting down, anyway? So far only the florist and his daughter’s fiancé have reported your arrival.”

“The pawnshop…” Rumpelstiltskin begun to frown seriously as he watched her move about. After a painful moment of silence, he finally asked, “Why do you prefer the ogres over me, dearie? You know me; Henry trusts me. I taught you everything you know – I even changed your diapers, for Hades’ sake! What’d I do to become dead to you like your dear mumsy?”

Upon the mention of her mother, Regina gripped the tumbler so tight that it shattered. Snapping, she shouted, “Don’t you dare talk about my mother!”

The imp shot up, glaring. “You are being quite the brat today. Here I am, coming to you so nicely and all that, both of us knowing full and well that I can fix your town from bankruptcy, yet all you do is whine about it like a spoiled and hapless bairn!”

“How dare you speak to me like I’m a child! I’m the mayor of this town, not you!”

“I’m ah no’ wantin’ to be mayor!” he groaned, “I’m saving your godforsaken hide so it doesn’t get thrown in prison, or better yet, into an ogre’s belly! What in gods’ name is your problem!?”

Regina, still fuming, stormed across the office with the imp at her heels. “All you ever do is nag me down, and I refuse to be inferior to you in my own town!”

“Inferior?” Rumpelstiltskin echoed her, snarling as the woman snatched a sheet of paper out of a drawer. “I was your sole guardian for the better part of your wretched childhood. A little respect would be much appreciated!”

“Oh, get off your high horse!” Regina shouted back, plucking a fountain pen from her desk before roughly dropping herself down in the chair. Rumpelstiltskin hovered behind her as she furiously began to scribble something down. “I am not a little girl anymore. I am a grown woman, a mother, and a mayor, and I will not put up with you flaunting about in the spotlight with me in your shadow—“ abruptly pausing, Regina muttered quietly, “I suppose you’ll be using barter with most of your tenants? Considering everyone are my peasants.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you—And I don’t want you mucking up my plans, damn it! Stay to your business, and I’ll stay to mine! I swear to the seven layers of hell, Rumple, if you so much as put one boot in my space again—“

“Yes, yes, yes, you’ll throw your reign of terror and all. It taks a lang spoon to sup with a fifer, dearie.”

“—Disrespect me one more time, Rumple. I dare you, I dare you!”

“Dare!”

Regina growled in fury, writing at an alarming rate, before violently jotting her signature down. Rudely offering the pen up, she shoves the freshly written document toward Rumpelstiltskin who does the same, blotching the paper from the force of his writing. The imp snatched the paper up and tucked it into his waistcoat’s inner pocket.

It was a document stating that the mayor consented for Mr. Gold to be the new landlord.

“Yir the most infuriating besom Ah knae’,” Rumpelstiltskin quipped with a thick Scottish accent.

“Good. If there’s another, send her my way. We’ll start a club.”

“Pfft. Good to see you too, Regina,” The imp rolled his eyes as he prepped to magick himself away. Pausing, he turned back toward the mayor. “Did you really risk getting eaten by repo ogres just so ye’ could avoid dealing with me, or are all those Friday dinners with you and Henry hallucinations? Your nae’ trying very hard to avoid me, if that’s the case.”

“No. I wanted to do my job without your judgment. Would you have ever let me live my neediness down had I been the one to tell you about the bankruptcy?”

“Probably not.”