"All you can offer is fealty," Hordor says.

Rumple does not reply. Because he doesn't really know how to. Hordor keeps talking and Rumple keeps listening meekly.

"," he drawls, drawing the words out slowly, relishing in them.

"N — not in front of my boy," Rumple pleads. Bae is all he has, and Rumple's got enough pride left in him not to bow down.

"Kiss my boot," he repeats, more forcefully. But still he draws the words out so that Bae hears them clearly.

And in the look in his eyes it's clear that the duke's men will take him right there if he doesn't do it; and for Bae Rumple would kiss a thousand boots.

That is what drives Rumplestiltskin to press his lips firmly to the glossy black boot, but he glares steadily at its owner.

"There's your fealty, dearie."

a/n: i'm not dead, finally got around to updating this. sorry, but i forgot about this story