Ignorance is Bliss

Dark Castle

I follow Thomas through the quiet streets of the village to his home; the harsh winds making me shudder. It was a cold night, nearly winter and Thomas had decided that it was time I met his father—Ser Michael. The man that opens the door is a familiar one, I've seen him patrolling the village and fighting alongside the other knights. "This is the girl," he asks, voice cold and seductive. Thomas nods with a smile, urging me further into the home with a hand at the small of my back. Slowly, the fair looks of Michael fade to darker ones; his golden hair and bronze skin changing to black hair and such pale skin that it was nearly ashen. "You're sure she is the Dark One's daughter?"

"Yes, father," Thomas nods, looking unfazed by the sudden transformation. Standing before me was none other than Mordred of Orkney, traitor and illegitimate son of King Arthur. Thomas keeps a firm hold on both of my arms as I attempt to back away from the dangerous man, tsking even as I continue to struggle. All knew of Mordred, he was a cold man that wouldn't hesitate to slit a child's throat if it meant he would get what he wanted. "Easy now, little bird; the more you cooperate, the easier this will happen." Mordred chuckles at that, reaching out a gloved had to twirl a lock of my hair around his finger.

"That's right, Aveena; no one needs to be hurt too badly here." I flinch away from him as he inches closer, pulling me out of his son's arms and into his. "Just a few questions, and if you answer them to my liking, you'll get a prize." His lips brushed my ear as he spoke, one of his hands traveling to my backside and squeezing firmly. "Right this way, my lady." Mordred gestures towards a doorway, drawing his sword as motivation for me to move. I do so reluctantly, wondering if I could run faster than the two men and deciding that it wouldn't be hard for Thomas to catch me.

I sit on the settee in main part of the home, the roaring fire burning in the fireplace making me brake out in a light sweat. "Please," I beg," Please, just let me go and I'll give you whatever you want." Mordred chuckles, sitting next to me and draping an arm casually across my shoulders, pulling me close to him despite the fact that Thomas was standing merely feet away; Thomas gives a predatory grin as I'm set in his father's lap. "My Lord, I can give you gold if that is what you wish." My voice is shaky and breaks in places, only making the men's smile widen.

"Oh, we don't want gold."

"Then what?"

"You, as a spy."

Storybrooke

I stare at the newspaper, my head resting on my arms. Apparently a man that's been comatose for the past few years woke up last night and decided to go for a midnight stroll over to the toll bridge. What a strange headline, but I guess it's better than the usual town gossip like who's marrying who for what reasons. Blah, blah, blah—whatever. "Miss Gold." I jump at the cold voice, looking up and finding Eli's father, Martin Paracida, looking down at me. "Anything interesting this morning?"

"No, Mister Paracida," I answer as loudly as I can, wincing slightly and taking a sip of my Coke. "Just the usual, I guess." He nods, sitting down on the stool beside me and taking the paper from my hands. I keep my eyes on my untouched plate of eggs, hands fidgeting in my lap.

"My son is waiting for you outside….I hear you've done something very costly recently and he'd like to talk to you about it." He doesn't bother looking up from the paper, knowing I'd go outside to the Mustang like I was told, readying myself for what was about to happen.

I wince as I sit up, right eye swollen completely shut and making it hard to see properly. Eli had driven us to one of his family's warehouses so he could beat me without worrying someone would overhear my shouts. "You're worthless," he snarls, punching me once more in my stomach and driving the air from my lungs. "I can't think of a reason to keep you around anymore save one." He spits on the ground in front of me before turning on his heel and leaving, his Mustang peeling away with a squealing sound that meant skid marks would be left behind.

Slowly, I struggle to my feet, leaning against the wall for a few minutes until I have my breath back before starting the long trek back home. Papa wouldn't be home for a few hours since he was doing inventory and I would have more than enough time to hide what bruises I could with make-up and the others I would blame on some bullies that had wandered over from the other side of town. It should work; he's believed a worse lie than that one before. With a groan, I collapse on the couch and turn on the TV until I find something worth watching and allow my good eye to close as I slowly fall asleep.

Paracida means traitor in Latin, so I thought it'd be fun to make that Mordred's Storybrooke surname. It's short, but it's something; I want this posted before the new Walking Dead comes on and yes, that is the Mordred from King Arthur legends; I'm using him as a means to an end right now since the first season was kind of boring to me.