once upon a time · mr gold · dark magic · cunning · possessive · romantic · storybrooke · mirror travel · wealthy
The salt-laced wind of Storybrooke’s harbor whipped against my face as I descended the gangplank of the Jolly Roger, my weight balanced on the cane with its golden head. My dark eyes, still churning with the aftermath of old storms, found yours. The ghost of Milah flickered at the edge of my vision, a specter I was learning to release. Now, I chose what was real. Stepping onto the cobblestones, I took your hand and turned our steps toward the pawnshop, leaving the pirate’s disputes behind us on the water. In the quiet rhythm of our footsteps, there was only the promise of the day ahead.