Regina x Emma x Henry x Snow: On board the Jolly Roger, Henry's backpack is in their possession and it unveils the many tellings of Henry's life and what he keeps dear. Everyone has a keepsake in OUAT. What is Henry's? {They didn't leave the bag in the mine}
a/n: I do not own Once Upon A Time. All mistakes are my own.
The nights are longer than the days when out at sea, they realized. The horizon was painted in hues of red and orange that soon faded out to a deep shade of violet enveloping them in a quiet darkness. Soft waves would rock the ship carrying with it the unmistakable briny scent of the sea, affecting the eyes, palate and nostrils of those on board. It was fairly distinct from that of the shores of Storybrooke, tangy and fishy due to the activities around its vicinity. Unpleasant as it was, it brought back an air of melancholy and nostalgia for those who called those shores their home for 28 years.
No one felt it greater than the founder of the town, a woman whom stood firm in the face of pending death barely 48 hours ago, and yet chose to save said town from destruction at the expense of her own life. Hadn't it been for the stubbornness that rang true in the nature of the Charmings, which included her son, there would be no Storybrooke let alone their very existence. Despite their triumph-hers and the Saviour's-their moment of celebration was gravely cut short, reminding them that all magic came with a price.
A price of which they both had to pay, something which the former Mayor was sorely reminded of the day those words were spat at her by none other than the Saviour. They both knew now that it had been said in vain as she was in fact innocent of the crime. Her son—no, their son—however, has fallen victim once again to their bitter feud and their use of magic. Unlike before, he wasn't surrounded by his family, providing him the support to endure the tragedy that had befallen him. The promise she had made to him, broken within hours of its admission.
x
There was something eerie about the sea that lay ahead of them. Murky blue waters and a strong salty scent that carried along with it invaded the senses of all those on board. It stung their eyes as though grains of sand had already mixed with the air. It brought some relief though that shore was ahead and that they were closer to the forsaken beaches of Neverland. Home to the rebellious Peter Pan and his fellow cronies, the Lost Boys.
Stories of their delinquencies transcended realms, their tales varied from one place to another, each tale that spun was more gruesome than the next. Emma however relished at the fact of meeting the Lost Boys and the infamous Peter Pan of her folklore. A pack of misfits, says she. She wasn't wrong to say as much but in a land with magic, nothing is ever what it seems. Probably it is these beliefs were what kept her restless mind at ease.
However, the same couldn't be said for the former Mayor. Questions of their destination only intensified the anxiety that brew within her, provoking her fears that her son may be in danger—a danger that she could not protect him from. When they left Storybrooke her magic was already at its weakest and it terrified her of its unpredictability.
At the mention of Neverland, a knowing glance passed between the Queen and her former adversary. A slight tilt of her chin was all it took for both women to agree that what they know must not be made privy to the others. For once, Snow White knew better than to disobey her stepmother. A title which no longer bore any substance but lingered nonetheless in the stifled air between them. She assumes due to these dire circumstances of being confined on a single vessel and at such a close proximity, memories of old were bound to rise to the surface. It told of a time where a young girl lived in what seemed a joyous and harmonious life alongside her dearest father and her stepmother.
But those were times long lost and too painful to relive.
It is the here and now that busied her thoughts and left her heart unsettled. Unknown is the state of her heart whether purified by the deed of saving Regina from the cruel hands of a revengeful man or splotches of darkness took its place instead. A darkness born of her narcissistic need to cure herself and disregarding all else. Her thoughts however were her own, unspoken to those near and dear, fearful of their judging eyes.
Chills ran down her spine, from the cold and the memory of the searing pain she had felt a few days ago. No, she corrects herself, that wasn't her pain that she felt, but of Regina's heart-wrenching pain. A pain that emitted strangled screams and choked sobs at every surge of shock.
Albeit so, Regina now lives and breathes the same salty air as she. There was no denying that Regina was born and bred a survivor, surpassing everyone's expectations of her. She had escaped the bony arms of Death more times than any person should but yet here she stood watching the overlapping waves, defying her fate once again.
x
It is when night falls, that Henry's armour of bravado, well put in place-as he is son of the Queen and son of the Saviour-sheds its skin as if it were a basilisk at the change of seasons. As he sits by the bonfire on the beach looking out to the path of moonlight reflecting on calm waves of the sea, he wonders of the fate of his family. A young boy of eleven, who believed in kings and heroes, good versus evil, finally sees that everything hanged at a balance. Swaying from one side to another so quickly, it left his head spinning like the top he once had. One of his many playthings of when he was younger. How incredible childish he thought it was, twisting and turning an object only for it to fall.
But his mother wasn't one to gift him such presents that held no meaning. In due time, he caught on to what a spinning top may convey even just as a child's plaything. The world around him may twist and turn, consistently revolving round and round until gravity decides it has had enough. No matter how you urge it to spin, it will cease to spin as fervently, dipping and falling slowly before it comes to an abrupt stop.
The workings of the top bore an uncanny resemblance to his life, spinning on course before slowly being dragged down by gravity. His earliest memories of the softness in his mother's touch replaced with a stiff hand on his shoulder, their hours of play replaced with books behind locked doors, animated conversations replaced with awkward silences and their bedtime stories no longer a place of comfort but of fear. Fear that his theories were in fact true and that his mother was the Evil Queen.
He regrets now that he didn't confide to Archie that in the midst of their downward spiral, he had loved her, he had fought against the need to indulge in his imagination and he had wanted their relationship back to the way it was. He had urged himself to move on, to keep their lives at status quo; much like his cheers to keep the top spinning. But it dwindled down nonetheless and he blames himself for it now.
Using his jacket as a pillow against the grainy surface of the beach, he lies down facing up to the starry landscape, fiddling with his thumbs as he let out a yawn. Staring intently at the very star that lead them here, his eyelids grew heavier by the second as sleep claimed his tired body. Before he drifted off into the safety of his dreams, he whispers into the night air hoping that the winds will carry his message. "I miss you Mom," his mind dedicating it to the obvious choice while his heart yearned for another.
Call it what you will but the bond between mother and child need not be by blood for it to be real. A mother's intuition, instinctive of its nature to feel what their child is feeling and it is never wrong. The single candlelight that lit in Regina's cabin suddenly snuffed out as a cool breeze swept in and around her closed quarters. Having just fallen asleep, her eyes flew open as she sat upright in her bed, breathing heavily from what woke her. Tears pooling in her eyes, she exhales the name of the one she loves most, "Henry".
x
The creaks of the ship's floorboards announced her presence on the deck causing heads to turn towards her. Mother and daughter sat not too far away from each other whereas the head of their family kept a watchful eye on the Captain that was minding the ship. The Dark One playing the part of the playful imp he was, leaned on his cane as he bowed his head at her when she passed by him. A special camaraderie had formed between them in the many years that they were bound to each other in the chaos of battle and over the course of this game they played; the player and the pawn depending heavily on each other to attain their respective desires.
Seeking refuge in the calming waves of the sea, Regina sets her sights out to the foreign landscape that surrounded her. For a brief moment, the magnificent scenery distracted her from her fears and distress of the journey ahead of them. Her moment of clarity cut short by a single hand on her forearm; the hand belonging to the woman who was destined to break her curse long before she was able to cast it.
"Ms Swan? Your hand." Her tone was stern but not hostile.
"I think we've been through enough for us to be on a first-name basis. Don't you think so, Regina?" enunciating the former Mayor's name. "Look, I didn't come to pick a fight with you. I wanted to show you something."
"And I assume whatever this something is, is supposed to interest me?" Asking in her usual demeanour that was seemingly intact which almost had the Saviour deterring from sharing this somewhat treasure.
A heavy sigh escaped the blonde as she mentally shook off the urge to duel the dark haired woman in a war of words. The tension that bubbled underneath every interaction between them since that fateful night their son turned up at her door and later at the mayor's threatened their silent truce. Deciding it best to just reveal what she's had in her keeping overnight, Henry's backpack came into view. The Sheriff couldn't resist a triumphant smirk at the look of astonishment on the Queen's face, however it soon faded away the moment she noticed the crimson colour that rose from Regina's neck up. She swallowed hard, instinctively backing away with a hand up as a sign of surrender.
"Regina, I can explain—"
"Emma—Ms Swan," reverting once more to the formality she was accustomed to, "Do you mind explaining to me how is THAT in your possession?" pointing accusingly at the direction of Henry's backpack. "No, the more appropriate question, why didn't you—any of you tell me about this? He is my son and you're keeping his belongings without my knowledge? Oh wait, Ms Swan doesn't need to run anything by me about MY son. Isn't that right Mary Margaret? "
The distance the White princess had kept immediately felt like only inches away from where Regina stood. Once more, the identity of Mary Margaret slipped away and Snow White took her place as she felt the hairs behind her neck rise at the tone of her stepmother's voice. The memory of her being caught eavesdropping by Regina in times before was brought to mind and it made Snow blush furiously at how foolish it was of her to assume Regina wouldn't notice. She searched for the words to explain her position but none came to her leaving her to respond with a meek nod.
"Regina, she has nothing to do with this. Well, not really. Actually she should be thanked because there would be nothing of Henry's if it weren't for her". Weary of Regina's temper, David had taken a few steps down towards his wife earning a scoff from Regina.
"Is that so? Well then, thank you Mary Margaret. With that out of the way, I've yet to hear the explanation as to why Henry's bag is in your hands Emma. Explain."
You can take Regina out of Storybrooke but you can't take the Mayor out of Regina, Emma thought. "The thing is Regina, you were fast asleep and I thought what difference it will make if I held on to it first. Come on, I'm showing it to you now. Just back the hell down huh? Everyone's tired and worried for Henry. You're not alone."
The expressions on her face were subtle but they spoke volumes of a turmoil that neither of them could begin to comprehend. It was small; the creases in her forehead gradually smoothing over, her eyes downcast to her damp boots and her previous scowl straightening to a tight line. Her walls weren't built high enough to guard her emotions that had been running rampage in her mind. Her state of mind, body and soul had been thrown off to the point of no return. She had accepted Death selflessly twice and with that acceptance she had let herself go. Pieces of herself that she had just begun to pick up. You're not alone. Those three words knocked the wind out of her, silencing the bitter words she had prepared.
The thunderous pounding of waves crashing against the ship drowned out all other sounds as this crew of sorts stared at one another and ever more so at the Queen who was battling her fears right before their eyes.
"You're right Emma. I'm not alone. I'm stuck here with you lot," storming off in the direction of the cabins as quick as her feet would take her. However, Emma was relentless. She knew they had to pull Regina back in from whatever abyss the former Mayor wanted to retreat to. This had to stop.
"You're telling me you don't want to know what part of his life in Storybrooke meant the most to him? You're not curious at all to see what he wanted to take with him to the Enchanted Forest—your home?"
Regina's gaze landed on Mary Margaret's pale face. "That place. That place was never my home."
The Saviour wasn't done with her, raising her voice above the sound of the waves. "You go on and on about how much you love Henry. Repeatedly reminding me and Mary Margaret that Henry is your son. When in fact, Regina, you're reminding yourself. He knows it and you know it. Saying it out loud doesn't make it any less real."
As if right on cue, the ship no longer rocked from the ferocity of the waves, dying down to a slight lull. All eyes were on the torn mother as they tried to gauge her reaction. In different circumstances or rather in a different time they would've faced Regina's infamous wrath and her biting words that chilled to the bone. But here on this desolate ship, she only offered them silence and the image of her back descending towards the cabins that she emerged from mere hours ago.
X
It was no surprise that among the items in his backpack was the book that held their stories; their fairy tales. Tattered around the edges from Henry's hauling it everywhere he went, the golden trimmings on the cover slightly faded from being nearly swept away and it's pages were thinner than it used to be. The book that was responsible for the rise and fall of Storybrooke.
Mary Margaret's fingers trailed the wordings on the cover, the bittersweet memories bouncing off every letter. She had read it first and the last time she read it was to a stranger. A stranger who turned out to be her husband, the valiant Prince Charming. Her lips curved into a smile when her eyes found his.
Thumbing through the book, she comes across an earmarked page. This wasn't here before, she remarked to herself. Calling over to Emma, she briefly asks her daughter if she was the culprit in which Emma quickly denied. Question marks hung over their heads as they both looked at the page.
The illustration was of a sword flying towards the Evil Queen. Mary Margaret knew the scene well having stood there and witnessed it all. The booming sound of Charming's voice as he threw the sword at Regina echoed in her mind. Lost in its memory, she didn't notice the photo that was tucked into the inner hinge of the book. It laid face down, crumpled and yellowing.
Turning it right side up, an audible gasp escaped from Mary Margaret's mouth. It was a picture of Regina lifting a younger Henry in the air, both of them wearing the widest of smiles. Written across the photo in scrawny markings akin to a toddler's was "My Mommy". Envious at first of the pure joy on Regina's face they knew it would be unfair to not acknowledge the love between Henry and his mom. "We have to show this to her."
In her haste, she collided with a leathery vest that had blocked the entrance into Regina's cabin. His hook held onto the loop of her coat as she stumbles backwards from the force. "Be careful there Princess, we'd hate to have you taking a spill. I know your husband would have my neck for it," smiling cheekily at the close space between them. Pushing him off with a grunt, she eyes him closely before she enters Regina's cabin without as much as a hello.
An impalpable weight fell onto her chest the minute Snow saw the sullen figure sitting on the edge of the bed. Mustering all of her courage, Snow took light steps towards the bed and slid the book open at the earmarked page next to Regina. "Look."
Closing her eyes as a means of an escape from the irritation of having to face Snow, she mentally debates on whether or not to hurt this woman before her. Deciding on the latter, the exhausted Queen turned to look at the object that was placed beside her. Her movements were slow as she picked up the photo, heavy tears spilling onto her lap as she thumbed at Henry's smiling face and his childish handwriting.
Pushing aside the book, Snow sat next to her stepmother and watched silently until Regina's tears had dried. Snow had rarely comforted Regina and she was unsure what would be acceptable in this moment but she tried anyway. Slipping her hand into Regina's, it didn't go unnoticed at how Regina's stiffened at the touch. Seconds ticked off the imaginary clock beckoning either of them to speak.
Staring at nothing in particular, her voice hoarse and still laced with sadness Regina finally addresses Snow. "I just wanted us to be happy. I thought I could have that with Henry. I wanted him to love me—Regina, not the Evil Queen" turning to face the woman that took away her happy ending, "that's all I ever wanted Snow."