Ugh…what…happened? Why…why are my legs bent this way? And why do I feel…slimy? Someone run me a bath! Snow? What are you doing way up there? I'm shorter than the dwarfs! What sort of tomfoolery is this?

"Snow, you've changed him into a…a…" Grumpy was baffled to the point where he couldn't even utter the word. His mouth was left hanging open unattractively. Charming started to panic.

A what? A midget? A cockroach? A ball of lint? No, I'm not a ball of lint—otherwise, I wouldn't have a brain. What am I? And why are you screaming, Grumpy? Use your indoor voice!

"He's a frog," Sneezy exclaimed, staring down at him. A what? Charming extended one of his hands out and he froze in horror. His hand was green! I am green! This complexion won't be good for me! I am a frog! Oh, gods, what will my mother think?

"Wrong vial. I was going for the one that would turn him into a scarecrow. He would have looked good in our gardens," Snow remarked as she perched on the edge of the bed. The curls of her ebony hair spiraled down as she towered over him.

Something hopped in the corner of his eye and he jumped back, raising his webbed limbs in defense. Oh, it was only Jiminy. The awkward moment when a cricket is nearly the same size as you. And you want to eat him.

"Don't worry," Jiminy advised him calmly. At least one of them had their senses. "You grow used to the height and constant hopping after a while."

But I don't want to be like you! I don't want to be short, hop from place to place, and swallow flies! I want to be human! Charming tried to glare at the cricket—he didn't know if it worked. His facial structure was all wrong. For all he knew, he was sitting here with his tongue sticking out.

"You," Snow hissed, narrowing her eyes at Jiminy. He shrunk back, searching for a place of safety from Snow's oncoming wrath. "How did you get loose?"

Reaching behind the bed, Snow revealed an iron poker. And she was raising it above her head, aiming at them. Oh, no.

"Snow, don't!" But it was too late.

The iron poker flew down and they both jumped into the air to evade it. Jiminy leaped up into Grumpy's waiting palm. Charming, on the other hand, was rudely lifted by his leg. Hey, watch it! I'm upside-down! Oh, breakfast is coming up.

Slowly, he spun in the air and he soon came face to face with his captor. Rumpelstiltskin. The imp looked quite pleased with Charming's latest predicament. Put me down! I have an extra-long tongue and…I may not know how to use it, but I shall use it somehow!

The puny brain in his head fired up and his tongue whipped out, aiming for Rumpelstiltskin's eyes. That's what he would do—blind him with the power of his tongue.

It would have worked if Rumpelstiltskin hadn't pinched Charming's pink tongue between his fingers. Charming's body jerked and he tried cursing Rumpelstiltskin's name in order to get him to let go. He only laughed shrilly.

"Oh, Dark One got your tongue?"

Rumpelstiltskin's nails dug into Charming's tongue before releasing it. It flapped back into his head with such force that it made Charming's mouth vibrate. It's not fun when you get a headache from your own tongue.

"You've had your fun. Release him," one of the dwarfs demanded. Charming could not agree more. Yeah, what he said!

That awful gleam in Rumpelstiltskin's odd-colored eyes unsettled him. Swiftly, he drifted to the window with Charming bobbing in the air. Rumpelstiltskin dangled him out the window, his intentions dawning on Charming. It was a long fall to those rosebushes below. Wait! Not the rosebushes!

"As you wish." And Charming began a rapid descent head-first toward the bushes.

…..

The dwarfs watched Charming disappear through the window, tossed away like a bit of trash in need of discarding. Though, Grumpy doubted the prince held more value to Rumpelstiltskin than that. And Snow was smiling, but it was icy as a frozen lake in the winter, a ghost of what it once was. Would the winter ever end?

"When we asked for the prince to be released, that is not what we meant," Grumpy thundered, gripping the handle of his pick-axe all the tighter. Snow yawned and stretched her arms high above her head, flexing her muscles.

"Words, words, words," she moaned in a bored voice. Rumpelstiltskin's gaze snapped to his wife, but he did not argue with her carelessness over such details. Instead, he pounced forward with the agility of a cat.

"In case you haven't noticed, I don't take kindly to intruders in my castle," he growled.

In a split second, he'd drawn close enough to thrust a finger into Grumpy's chest, forcing him to stumble backward on his heels. Bristling with anger, the lanky strands of his hair practically crackling with energy, Rumpelstiltskin pointed to the hall.

"Get. Out."

The majority of the dwarfs figured that wasn't half a bad idea and edged out into the hall, away from the finger that could so easily brandish dark magic. Grumpy, however, remained in place. He glanced at Snow, who was watching him with interest.

"Snow, please—"

His pleading was cut off by the way Rumpelstiltskin suddenly grabbed him up by the clothing of his vest and brought him within inches of his face. He didn't think the imp gave first chances, never mind second ones.

"Oh, so you wish to live a fate worse than Charming's? What shall it be? A clock? Perhaps a crack in the floorboards so that you may kiss the bottom of my boot every morning?"

Grumpy's heart pounded in his chest; he thought it might burst out. The other dwarfs were too afraid to move. Desperately, Grumpy lifted his pick-axe and buried it in Rumpelstiltskin's shoulder-blade.

Blood spurted from the wound and Grumpy was dropped to the floor in a bundle. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. A-ha! I got you now, imp! Let's see you walk away from that!

Snow's eyes had flown open wide at the sight of the pick-axe protruding from Rumpelstiltskin's back, had even leapt up from the bed in her astonishment. But Rumpelstiltskin himself was a different matter. He didn't cry out in pain or bend over in agony. His face didn't contort into madness and he didn't fall to his feet.

It seemed he didn't even notice the pick-axe in his back at all.

Sighing impatiently, Rumpelstiltskin reached a hand over his shoulder and yanked the axe out clean, without a groan. Blood dripped from the point, though he was not bothered by it. The weapon slapped against Rumpelstiltskin's palm and Grumpy had the odd feeling it might be used on him next. How…but…he…I had him!

"Is that the best you can do? I've dealt with far worse before, dearie. If you're going to kill me, at least have the courtesy of doing it with style," he lilted, that weapon still bobbing up and down.

Grumpy scrambled to his feet and he craned his neck toward Snow. That was not Snow anymore.

Before Rumpelstiltskin could inflict any damage upon him, he'd made up his mind. They had lost; this battle was over. They were tired and all that would come of it was loss. Charming had proved that. Slipping his hat off, Grumpy held it to his chest in a last solemn act of honor.

"Goodbye, Snow," he whispered and hoped some old part of the courageous woman he befriended had heard it. A tear threatened to fall, but Grumpy wiped it back with his palm. Turning, he and the dwarfs rushed from the room and fled out into the night.

…

It was him.

Red could smell him coming down the stairs, his boots thumping against each step in warning of his presence.

The heavy cell door swung open—magically, she had no doubt—and there he lounged on the threshold with his arms crossed, as if he were anything but her captor. Red wished she weren't locked in chains so she could whip this cloak off, turn into a wolf, and rip those leather pants off. A blush warmed her cheeks as she realized how that really sounded.

"Ooh! Someone is happy to see me," he mocked, murky amber eyes gleaming at the sight of her emblazoned cheeks.

Red snarled and fought against the iron chains, ignoring the intense shooting agony in her broken wrist. The chains held in place, binding her. He made a low disapproving tsk-tsk, wandering into the confines of the cell. Just you wait, imp! One of these days, Prince Charming will return Snow to us. I will come back with a vengeance!

"Down, girl. Don't make me fit you for a muzzle," he cooed to her and giggled that horrendous, heart-freezing giggle.

He oozed pleasure as he danced closer to her, but straying enough feet away from her reach. Come closer, I dare you. I still have teeth. All the better to eat you with!

"What did you do with Charming?"

Her sharp eyes screamed murder, never leaving the imp for fear he might play some cruel trick of magic. Must he be such a thorn in their sides? His boots thudded against the stone floor, matching the pounding of blood in her ears.

"Charming?" He touched a black-nailed finger to his chin, as though sincerely struggling to recall who she was talking about. Then he snapped his fingers. "Oh, you mean our new frog prince. Ah, yes. How silly of me. He's adjusting quite well to his new body."

Red's knees grew weak and her heart sank into her stomach. Oh, Charming, no.

"Where's Snow?" Red strained her ears to listen for a footfall or a scrape of a dining room chair. Nothing. The Dark Castle was serene and still.

Was Snow inside the Dark Castle at all? Or was she…taking care of Charming? It made Red wince to think such things, even more so than the pain in her arm.

Rumpelstiltskin flitted near her shoulder and his fingers brushed over it. It made her stomach curl into knots to earn his attention. Disgusted, she jerked away from his vile touch and she heard him scowl unpleasantly. His thoughts invaded her brain—this was his castle and if he wanted to lay hands on his prisoner, then so be it.

I should have stayed home with Granny. At least she has the crossbow. And what do I have? A broken wrist, a cloak, and chains.

"Oh, Snow will be delighted to play with her new pup. Perhaps she can instruct you to obey. Unfortunately, she'll be heading into town today and I have deals to make. I'll tell her you requested a visit."

Red didn't think that message would be carried through with great urgency. She figured he would kick his feet back and enjoy watching her break and suffer first.

And then Red dared to ask the question that made her throat burn and her nerves leap like fish out of water. There was no avoiding the matter and the sooner she had the answer, the sooner she could accept her fate.

"What are you going to do with me?"

It was barely louder than a whisper, but it was amplified inside the deathly still cell, the words bouncing off the stone walls and mocking her raw voice. It seemed he had been waiting for her to ask the question.

Eerily, his lips curved and split apart, revealing a row of less than perfect teeth that caught the flickering glow of the torches. His finger rubbed together excitedly and he loomed before her, a poisonous snake about to strike.

Swooping forward, he deftly caught her by the chin, his face inches from her own. She winced when she felt the heat of his breath on her nose. It was as humid as a dragon's, if not more so.

"So anxious," he drawled, staring straight into her eyes. His fingers squeezed her chin tightly and she cried out in discomfort. It only made him grin wider, a monster thriving on pain for pleasure. Terrible images bombarded her mind—if he transformed Charming into a pitiful frog, what would he do to her?

Red squirmed out of his grip and lurched her head forward to sink her teeth into the flesh of his hand. Her teeth scraped along his golden-gray skin as he twisted away, growling in pain. The taste of him made her gag and her stomach clenched and boiled worse than a pot of Granny's stew.

Instinctively, she loosened her jaws and spat him out. He tore away, his hand marred with vicious teeth marks. Even though she was still spitting from the wretched taste of him, Red couldn't help but smirk with victory. If I'm going to be imprisoned here, I may as well fight back.

Irises flashing with rage, his arm whipped up and he back-handed her across her jaw, sending her body flying against the stone wall. She landed awkwardly on her broken wrist and she bit her lip to stifle the cry of agony. Spots of black and red danced behind her eyelids, the room spinning back and forth.

In a second, he was on her, dragging her back up to her feet, her head still lolling from the brutal blow.

"That's not the first time someone's taken a chunk out of me," he snarled, his lips curling back into a sneer. All traces of glee and amusement had vanished. "If you had cooperated, I might have been willing to consider your freedom. Or, at the very least, healed that miserable wrist of yours."

Just to prove his power, he shoved her away and rubbed a hand across the torn flesh of his hand. A burst of shadow, illuminated with a seductive shade of violet, fogged over his wound. When he pulled his hand back, the teeth marks had vanished. Healed.

"But now…I think it can wait another day," he muttered.

Abruptly, he turned his back to her, leaving her in a cold heap on the ground. To her disbelief, he did not stomp right out like she expected of him. Instead, he paused on the threshold and gave her a last condescending look over his shoulder.

"By the way, you might want to keep away from the rats. They bite, too."

And then the cell door slammed closed, the whoosh of musty air extinguishing the torches. Red was left alone in the darkness, wondering how long it would be before he returned.

…..

"We are gathered here today…to mourn the loss of a dear friend. Snow White." Grumpy announced from the head of the circle. They never did find Charming, but they returned home safe. It was reaching midnight and it was cold, but the seven of them huddled outside. Even Jiminy had accompanied them home and drew out a small stitch of cloth from his little jacket so that he could blow his nose.

A glass coffin, empty of a body, was placed in the middle with a wreath of delicate flowers resting over it. It was a last tribute to Snow's memory. It was time they accepted the person she was would never return. She would want them to be happy.

Each of them sniffled back sobs as Grumpy hung his head with utmost sorrow, seeking the strength to continue. He couldn't do this—it was still too early for goodbye.

This hit him harder than the others, for he kept replaying their meeting, especially when he'd given up hope of ever again seeing the outside world and told her there was no way out of their prisons. I'm Snow…and I'll find a way. Good luck, Grumpy. I hope you get your love back.

One by one, he met the eyes of his brothers, all reflecting the same sadness that ate away at his heart in the moonlight.

"Perhaps…someone would like to say a few kind words. Sneezy?" Holding his damp sleeve to his nose, Sneezy stepped forward toward the glass coffin and rested a hand upon it. His shoulders quaked with grief.

At birth, each of them was told the same mantra: that dwarfs were incapable of experiencing the wonders of love. Grumpy had been the only exception, but now he realized it was the same for all of them, whether they knew it or not. Every one of them in this circle had loved Snow in some way. If Stealthy were still among them, Grumpy had no doubt he'd have loved her, too.

"Uh…this is not easy for any of us," Sneezy began and erupted into a violent sneezing attack. The flowers were nothing but a burden to him, but he did not complain once. "Back when she was still Snow, she…she dusted our house every morning. She made sure that my bed was extra-clean and had fresh sheets and that the food was cooked just right for me. She never brought hay into the house or teased me about sneezing too many times. She was…the nicest woman I've had the fortune to meet. I'll miss her."

Sneezy blew his nose on his sleeve and stepped back to allow the others to speak their last words. It traveled in a circle around the coffin—Doc recounted on how Snow taught him about the usefulness of herbs in the forest, knowledge she'd acquired from Red; Sleepy was wide awake for once as he told of how Snow would sing him to sleep with a soothing lullaby; Dopey simply burst into tears. Sneezy offered him his sleeve and Dopey snorted into it long and hard.

And then it was Grumpy's turn.

He knew he would never forgive himself if he never spoke about Snow. Clasping his hands, he inched forward, catching everyone's attention. He gazed down at the wreath of flowers and recalled how white roses had always been Snow's favorite.

"Snow White…was the most considerate, brave, loving person ever to walk the Enchanted Forest. And I'm not just saying that because she's lost to us. No, she always put the needs of others before her own, even if it meant her suffering. There was never a battle that she cowered from. Why, when Stealthy…died…and I'd been caught by King George's men, Snow was willing to take the fall for me so that I may have my freedom!"

At the mention of Stealthy, more tears were inevitably shed. They never held a proper ceremony for their slain brother. Walking to the edge of their house, Grumpy retrieved Stealthy's old pickaxe and laid it alongside the wreath. Goodbye, Stealthy.

Grumpy bowed his head before he went on.

"And when Snow spoke of love, whether she held it in her palm or not, it was filled with so much hope and so much light…it made you want to venture out into the world and find it for yourself. The way she never asked for help even though she needed it, the way her face would blush the softest pink as the evening sunset when she was happy, the way she smiled because someone required comfort..."

Grumpy's throat constricted as he pictured Snow laughing along with them at the head of their table. There would always be an empty seat for her now. Their cabin would certainly get filthy without her cleaning skills.

"In all my years, I will never forget her. The ache will remain, but as I once said to Snow. I need my pain. It will remind me every day that she was here for a time. She was as much a friend, as much our sister as Stealthy was our brother. There will never be another dwarf like Stealthy. There will never be another Snow White. May you both rest in peace and find happiness in a better world."

And, long into the night, without a single bright star in the sky to guide them, the dwarfs proceeded to bury the casket.

...

The sun had barely reached its peak and he was already dealing. It was going to be a long day for him, Snow could tell. Those kinds of days always left him angst-ridden and in a dark mood, depending on the rate of fools that struck his nerve. There was always at least one.

Snow could hear the murmurs as she marched down the marble staircase. There was her husband's hissing, shrill tone, of course. And an unfamiliar voice of the unfortunate customer; this one timid and belonging to a man.

Acid dripped from Rumpelstiltskin's voice—he was upset. And it was never good when he was upset, at least for his customers.

As she neared the entrance hall, words began to rise up to meet her.

"Please, spare me! I only wanted to—"

"You only wanted to steal from my gardens and escape with your life, dearie. Too afraid to face me? In my book, that's a sign of cowardice," Rumpelstiltskin retorted. Oh, yes. His anger was brimming dangerously, close to overflowing.

Who would be idiotic enough to steal from the most powerful being in the realms?

"Problems, darling?" Snow stepped into the main hall, though she did not approach his chair. The two men—one a servant—glanced up at her and their eyes pleaded for her help. Too bad she was unwilling to give it.

"Ah, Snow. How lovely of you to join us," Rumpelstiltskin drawled without revealing himself from behind his chair. "These men decided to steal some of my rapunzel."

Snow arched an eyebrow. What would anyone want with an herb like rapunzel? She herself never acquired a taste for it.

"Princess Abigail's condition is declining! Rapunzel is all she craves now," the nobleman explained. Abigail? So these people were from Midas' kingdom. Not one of Rumpelstiltskin's favorite territories.

"When Midas made that deal with me, I promised him his precious daughter would live long enough to birth her child. I never promised she wouldn't suffer through it. Regardless, he knows what he owes me." The servant's face paled.

Snow rolled her eyes. Weaklings. Fools. Traitors. Why couldn't everyone simply pay their debts? She'd much prefer not to listen to his ranting in the middle of the night.

"I'm not sure he…Perhaps…I can reason with him. If you'll just give us the rapunzel," the nobleman begged Rumpelstiltskin, practically leaping over the table in his desperation. Snow shook her head pitifully. It doesn't look like you'll be walking out of here. At least, not the way you came in.

Rumpelstiltskin slapped his hands down on the table and the servant jumped a mile in his boots.

"Oh, so Midas sent you all the way here to steal and give me the bad news? Oh, dear. That's just not going to work." Snow wondered if these men realized how close he was to snapping. If they did, they wouldn't be seated. They'd be running for the door.

"Please. A few more days at most! Midas knows what will happen if he breaks the deal. Princess Abigail—"

"Will wither away like a pretty little flower. Quite like the one I procured for Midas. I've assured that she will birth her child. What happens after that is up to him. Might I make a suggestion? Your little princess would make a lovely garden statue." Rumpelstiltskin cackled menacingly. "Isn't that right, Snow?"

Rumpelstiltskin's hand stretched into view, beckoning her forward. The train of her dress whispered on the cold floor as she dutifully took to his right side, her hand coming to rest in his. Gently, he lifted it to his lips, his eyes gleaming as he kissed it and put on a teasing show for their guests.

"That's right," she agreed. "A deal is a deal, boys. And deals are always honored."

Snow wagged her finger accusingly at them. Their eyes widened and the nobleman shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Did he sense the darkness ebbing from her, too?

"Midas is prepared to give you anything. He will give you gold. Hand-made." Snow knew he was trying to lighten the situation. Trying to squirm out of their deal. He was just epically failing at it. "You know…because he….his hand…" The nobleman gestured awkwardly to his hand. Did he really think them that oblivious? "Yes, he will give you all the gold you could ever want, to do with as you please. Just not the child."

Rumpelstiltskin slightly turned his head to Snow. Oh, boy—there was that crucial lift of the corners of his lips and the way his body seemed to still. It was miniscule; the men most likely did not catch any difference in his behavior. But she did.

"Snow, would you be so kind as to inform this man of the unfortunate problem with his generous offer?"

Grinning, Snow crossed to the spinning wheel settled near the window and gathered a heap of golden thread in her arms. She thrust it under the man's face and wrenched his head forward by his hair.

"Do you know what this is?" The man's eyes boggled as he stared down at the threads of gold. His face was nearly buried in it. The servant looked like all his dreams had come true.

"Uh…the failed attempt of a new dress?" Snow clenched the man's hair and slammed his head on the table. It made a sharp crack that echoed along the hall. Rumpelstiltskin snickered as the nobleman tried to stand up, but his legs turned to jelly.

"Be careful not to hit him too hard, dearie. With those legs, he'll most likely think he's a mermaid. And then he'll drown," he pointed out, though he didn't sound too alarmed by the scenario. He actually sounded gleeful.

The nobleman regained his balance and rubbed his forehead.

"I'll give you a second chance. Only because I think you're rather handsome," Snow said, daring to caress the nobleman's cheek with the back of her hand. Rumpelstiltskin bristled in his seat—this was not part of his plan. Oops. "Do you know what this is?"

The nobleman gazed down at the extended gold again. His face was turning red from where his head had hit the table.

"Our parting gifts?" Snow raised her hand to hit him again. He scurried away from her. "It's gold! Gold!" Snow smiled, a sickly sweet twist of her lips.

"And why would we need gold when we already have so much here? My husband spins more than he could ever spend. Even when he goes to the market for his monthly leather pants shopping spree." The men inevitably glanced at Rumpelstiltskin's infamous leather attire.

"In my defense, the market is quite generous with their sales. All I have to do is point a finger and I get everything fifty percent off," he said in a sing-song manner. The man held up his hands in surrender, his body trembling.

"Very well—no gold! He'll give you…land! Any land in the kingdom," the nobleman declared. Rumpelstiltskin waved the offer away impatiently.

"I have all the land I'll ever need…right here." He tapped a finger against the table.

Was it just her or did the shadows clinging to the walls somehow grow darker and more menacing than before? This poor man must have noticed it as well since his eyes darted wildly around the hall. And the beast they were searching for was sitting casually in a chair, smirking at their discomfort.

"A deal's a deal. I want that baby. Nothing more…nothing less."

The nobleman's eyes suddenly narrowed at the dealmaker and that earlier strand of courage returned. His eyes flickered to Snow and this time, the expression was not the least bit friendly.

"What, your wife's no good? Or are you bedding her at all?" The nobleman boldly snapped with not an ounce of regret. Idiot. Snow arched an eyebrow inquisitively. And here I assumed the family jewels were nonexistent.

Rumpelstiltskin was stiff in his chair, quaking with rage. Snow could feel it, heavy and hot emanating from him. She covered her lips to hide her wicked smile. Last time it was Grumpy and he was given two wooden legs. What will it be this time? A garden gnome?

Instead, Rumpelstiltskin rose to full height, the chair scraping across the floor in a terrible, ear-splitting screech. He swept toward the nobleman, a snake closing in on its prey. In that instant, Snow knew this man was going to die. Why do I never have popcorn ready for the good stuff?

"Some people—take Midas, for example—do not believe in killing the messenger. Too messy," Rumpelstiltskin said as he came within a foot of the nobleman. Snow could see the apprehension on his face now. "I, however, do believe in it. Do you know why?"

The man broke into a cold sweat, his skin sickly pale in the sunlight. Snow perched on the edge of the table, a spectator in Rumpelstiltskin's little game.

"Because the messenger turns out to be an annoying imbecile who steals rapunzel, insults your wife, and this is an easy way to solve the problem?" Snow decided to throw in her two cents, if only for fun. Rumpelstiltskin pivoted in her direction.

"That," he agreed, pointing an exquisite finger to her. "And…it sends a message."

As swift as a rattlesnake, Rumpelstiltskin's golden hands grabbed either side of the man's head and twisted sharply. There was a sickening crack of bone and the man's body collapsed to the floor.

Snow hardly flinched. After all, just look what she'd done to their maid.

"I'm not picking that up," she protested, nudging her foot against the dead man's head. Rumpelstiltskin spun to face her, the sadistic glee brightening his features considerably.

"Don't be silly, Snow. Of course you are. You're the caretaker," he reminded her. Snow laid the thread of gold on the table—in the heat of the moment, she had forgotten she'd been holding it close to her chest. You know, that man did have something there. I wonder if Rumpelstiltskin could make me a golden dress.

"Yes, I am your caretaker. Of your estate. That—" she pointed to the dead guy on their floor—"was not in my job description." Snow stared back at him coolly. Worst case scenario, he could whisk it away with magic.

"Wh…what about the…rapunzel?" Oh, yes, Snow mused. I forgot about the servant. Maybe we could hire him. And then Rumpelstiltskin can see how it feels to be jealous of the help.

"Have you ever heard of my delivery service? Thirty minutes or less, my guarantee. Unfortunately, it comes with a little shipping fee," Rumpelstiltskin quipped. The servant glanced down at the dead body and became paralyzed with raw fear. "You. Clean that up," he ordered, snapping his fingers.

"Feel free to choose any spot in the garden," Snow chimed in. "Or you could bring him home to Midas. He can turn him into one of those golden fountain statues that spit water." The servant still wasn't moving. Was he even breathing?

"Hurry up, man. I'm not getting any younger here," Rumpelstiltskin growled as the servant finally bent to heft up the body under his arms. Snow heard him mutter something about getting paid for this. Maybe she should send Midas a fruit basket for his loss.

"You're not aging, either," Snow pointed out. She leaned toward him and flicked a strand of his lanky hair from his face. Age is but a number, right? Rumpelstiltskin grinned down at her.

"I know, dearie. Imagine being married to someone who looks this good every morning," he boasted, smoothing down his leather cloak. Snow twisted a strand of his hair around her finger and tilted her face up to him.

And then she stopped to stare at the piece of hair locked in her grip.

"Is that…a gray hair?"

Rumpelstiltskin frowned and pulled away, patting his hair preciously. Every strand was set perfectly in place. Gods knew he took up an hour in the bathroom in the morning just fixing it. He was worse than any woman she'd seen, including the Queen.

"I've never been gray, darling. And I'm not about to start," he insisted. Snow gaped at his hair, as if it were transforming before her very eyes. Her rosy lips parted in a wave of shock.

"I hope you have a potion for hair color," she hinted. Rumpelstiltskin stiffened in place, his face growing worried. Hastily, he crossed to the mirror in the corner of the hall and peered into it. Honestly, he was checking every individual strand.

Snow couldn't hold it in anymore—she burst out laughing. A cruel smile played on her lips as she slapped a hand on the table with the wracking gales of laughter. Oh, her hormones were on a new high this morning.

Rumpelstiltskin whirled back to her, peeved.

"Very amusing, Snow. Just wait until tonight in the bedroom," he warned her. "What will you do if I refuse your whims?" Snow leaned her body against the table, her curves in full view just for show. How could anyone refuse?

The castle door opened again and the servant stood panting on the threshold. His face was red from the effort of dragging the body away and he was huffing like a wolf. Rumpelstiltskin stared at him curiously.

"Did you want a tip?" The servant cleared his throat after catching his breath. He only managed to slip into a hacking cough. Snow scrunched her nose—that old servant had better not pass on any germs.

"No, sir…I was wondering…what will I tell King Midas?" The guy wrung his hands together nervously, scuffling his shoes on the floor. Rumpelstiltskin tented his fingers under his nose and feigned consideration.

"You can tell your dear old Midas that I shall be visiting him tonight to discuss his concerns over our deal. And that you were chased from my castle with a broom." The servant tilted his head in confusion. Snow sighed. Here we go. Must he do this every time?

"A broom?"

Rumpelstiltskin gestured his hand to Snow. Immediately, she strode across the room and grabbed the broom that was left neglected against the wall. Coming up behind the servant, she whipped the broom across the back of his head.

The servant went sprawling to the ground, but he was up and running within seconds while Snow dashed after him, waving the broom like a madwoman. She'd never seen a customer run so quickly down that mountain trail.

Snow halted on the threshold and released a frustrated breath.

"That's the second time this month I've chased someone out with a broom," she moaned. She lowered the broom so that she didn't appear so much as a maniac. Rumpelstiltskin snickered behind her and glided over to her.

"Now, Snow. We both know you enjoyed it," he taunted her, pointing an accusing finger toward her face. Snow frowned and made to bite it, but he wrenched it out of her reach. "Ooh…feisty, are we?" At least he was amused by this and not grumbling about how the world was out to get him.

"And you know what? You're right—I did enjoy it. Gods help that man if he ever comes back," she murmured, tapping the handle of the broom against the floor. And all she wanted to do was take a trip to the market.

"We certainly make a good team," he said, stroking a finger down her spine. His hands came to rest on her hips, massaging gently. Snow smiled darkly.

"Yes, we do. Which reminds me." Snow dropped the broom and wrapped her arms around his neck. She urged his face down to her, but instead of kissing him she whispered in his ear. "I'm pregnant."

…