Chapter Text
They lost the enemy ship, but that sail was damaged. They couldn’t use it. They needed to dock. The Captain gave orders to find a port and take down the sail. Soon enough, a small port came into view, and the Jewel of the Realm was docked. Further examination of the sail said it only needed a bit of stitching and it would work just fine.
The Captain and his Lieutenant headed into town to find the thread and a weaver so they could continue their mission.
_________________________________________________________________________________
The nightmare kept Rumplestiltskin from returning to sleep himself, so he decided to make use of it. He snuck out of bed and began on his chores. It was another hour before Milah rose. She greeted him before getting started on breakfast. Before long, he left for town. The town wasn't as fancy as the king's grounds, but it felt sturdy with it's stone walks and tall walls. He and Milah had one thing in common, and that was the sturdy walls were like a cage. The village was open, no giant gates to lock you in, no top of walls that tell you 'You don't need to leave', just dirt roads and many ways to leave. But the town was where the coin was, and dirt could only sustain you for so long.
As he entered the town, he started his routine of ignoring the glances that people gave him as he went. He knew what they thought of him. He’s known since he was a boy, after his father left him for his youth. It was why he left when he was old enough. But people wouldn’t come to his small village just to buy goods, so he ended up back in town. Back to where everyone knew his father. Whispers would sprout about how he looks just like him, and some would start bets on when he’d warm his father’s seat in the pub and paint the stone with his sick. Rumple had no desire to give in to those rumors, learning to keep his head down enough not to butt heads, but high enough to show the whispers didn’t hurt. Eventually, those whispers made it to the village. Which caused a few neighbors to keep an extra close eye on him when would be late from the market, sometimes coming out to talk just to see if they could get a whiff of alcohol on his breath. They never did.
The market was busy with visitors from other parts of the kingdom. A good sign for sales, since the visiting buyers weren't part of the rumor mill. But Rumplestiltskin knew that many of these visitors would join that rumor mill, for they were here to get away. From what, was always a guess. Some would hide, from either the law or abusive families. They would get jobs in, or from, the pub and be informed of the drunk’s son by the usual patrons and their own drunken ramblings. Others would find things, like easy prey or love, mainly in the town square. They would hear about him during the market gossip, when the elderly women would come out and gawk at the youths, whispering amongst themselves. Which would spread from the vendors, to the patrons of the market. But most were there to run from the war. They’d come seeking new homes, new starts, and find ways to force themselves into the village and town of the area. Easiest way to show you belong? Keep an ear out, and find where the locals pointed their fingers when they began to laugh. It would sting for a day, but he knew they longed for normalcy from the war that stole their homes. A horrible war, against horrible beasts.
Ogres.
He knew better than to ask.
No matter the reason, they would need wool and thread. Something Rumplestiltskin had and was willing to give, for a price. The drunk’s son and his wife had to eat of course. He made his way with his product, getting a good look at these visitors. There were the usual bunch, but there were also those with uniforms. Most were of the Duke’s army, which wasn’t uncommon. The Duke’s army was up front in the war, but with the brutality of the ogres they always had a handful of soldiers in town to recruit or get information from those that were relocating. But there were a few that had uniforms that belonged to the king’s royal navy.
That was new, since they had no true reason to be here. The King had been said to have no desire in wasting men when he had his own enemies to deal with. So why would his navy be stopped here? His questions of ‘why’ plagued him as he got his product set up and ready.
“Rumplestilskin?” Said a voice behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned to see two of the Duke’s men, each wearing a bag on their shoulders while one of them was holding a small scroll. “Uh, y-yes, that's me, sirs.” Rumplestilskin stuttered, turning to face them, “How can I help you?” The men looked at each other, before the one holding the scroll stepped forward. “You’ve been called to the front,” He handed Rumplestilskin the scroll. Rumple took it, his hands shaking as he unrolled the scroll to see for himself. “We leave in the morning,” The man continued, “Pack your things, say your goodbyes and meet us by the pub,”. Rumple nodded his head excitedly. He began to read over the scroll when the other man grabbed his arm and lowered it. “Don’t. Be. Late,” The other man growled. He then released Rumple's arm before the two soldiers left. Rumplestiltskin stared after them before returning his gaze to the scroll.
He had been enlisted.
His mind ran. On one hand, this was a good thing. It could change everything for the better. He’d go from the town drunk’s son to war hero. He could prove himself, if he survived. And there’s the rub. The front was well known for making cripples and corpses. And with Rumplestiltskin’s luck, he’d very well join the corpses that never came home instead of the crippled that did. He wasn’t afraid of dying. Death had been his fathers fear, not his. After he had been left behind, he told himself that if death were to visit him with no one to leave behind he’d welcome it. But he had someone to leave behind.
Milah.
He remembered when her friend June had lost her husband. How she mourned him for months. How her children cried for a papa that would never return. But the cripples that returned in his stead would talk of how brave he was. How she wasn’t alone in her mourning, so maybe Milah wouldn’t be alone either. He couldn’t back out now, so he’d hold his head high when he told her.
And it was only Milah. They had no children he would be abandoning if he died. No sons that would ask the same questions he did. They had always wanted a family but they had no luck with conceiving children, so maybe she could have luck after she’d mourn him properly. He shook those thoughts and focused on the sale. He’d no desire to leave Milah a hungry widow, so he had set up shop. After he had sold enough, he’d tell her.
Not many folks, new or not, stopped by. It seemed it would be a slow day, when the navy men walked up to his stall. One had curls and a slight stubble, while the other had his longer hair pulled back with a mustache above his own light stubble. They looked a bit similar to each other, with Curls looking a bit older than the other. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Rumplestiltskin smiled cheerily at them, “How may I help you today?”. Curls looked at his items, “This thread seems to be in wonderful condition,” he commented, before leaning to the other. “What say you, lieutenant?" he asked. The lieutenant looked at his wares before meeting his eyes, “Do you know how to weave as well, mate?” He asked, before Curls grabbed his shoulder. Curls looked to Rumple, holding up a finger to ask for a moment, before turning to the lieutenant to whisper.
Now, Rumple wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but when they were whispering in front of him he was obviously going to listen. Amongst the whispers of ‘Waste our time’ and ‘We need a weaver’, he heard a word he prayed he’d never hear again.
“Did you say Neverland?’’ Rumple asked before he could think.
The two men before him froze.” Don’t be ridiculous, my good man,” Curls laughed nervously while turning to face Rumplestiltskin, “It’s a child’s fantasy, nothing to wor…” He trailed off after he finally saw Rumplestiltskin’s face. Instead of a mocking smirk like he was expecting, he saw pure terror. It was clear he knew something. “I don’t believe we properly introduced ourselves,” He said, after a moment of silence.“ I am Captain Liam Jones of the Jewel of the Realm, and this is my brother, Lieutenant Killian Jones.” Liam offered a hand. Rumple looked at that hand and slowly took it. “Rumplestiltskin, sir. Now I know it’s not my place to ask but- ""Now hold on a minute there,” Killian interrupted while putting a hand on Rumple’s shoulder, “Let’s take this somewhere else,” He said while gently pushing him away from the square. They made their way to a back alley. The brothers quickly looked around before they turned their attention to Rumplestiltskin.
“Now tell us, friend,” Killian said while looking Rumple in the eyes, “What do you know of Neverland?”