Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT, Practical Magic, nor elements of Harry Potter.
Summary: In a small town named Storybrooke in Maine, Emma casts aside what she is at the death of her love: a witch. She grows to despise magic after his death and refuses to allow her son to learn the magic she once practiced as a child. But at this stage in her life, she's found that she has to continue to use magic to save those she loves. Including a man she wished for as a little girl. If only magic was a little more…practical.
Warnings: AU almost entirely! Captain Swan, although it seems to be more Lieutenant Swan. There are character deaths in this fic, as well as slight OOCness and added qualities to some characters. There is no enchanted forest. This story is also based LOOSELY off of Practical Magic (The movie, not the book) and most of it is within this chapter. There are some references to Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings for plants and potions! Don't freak if you see something you've read elsewhere, I own no rights to those as well.
A/N: GOOD DAY ALL :D
I am pleased to present to you my second Captain Swan Story ^_^ So psyched! I loved the idea of Emma always having magic, and when I tossed the idea around in my head, I found that I could compare her to Sally Owens of Practical Magic, and I fell in love with the idea so much that I created an outline of the chapters. This story will not disrupt my ongoing story, Thieves of Black Hearts, TBH will still be updated twice a week where as Practical Magic will be updated once every two weeks, until—and if—I complete TBH before PM. This story won't be a long slow build as TBH is, but Emma's characteristics will remain mostly the same. Killian is the one that will be the challenge for me as I am painting him from a different era of his life that hasn't been fully explored in the show.
Enjoy! Please leave cookies that I call Reviews, I would love to know your thoughts! And if you are reading this story and not yet read Thieves of Black Hearts, please check it out ^_^ hugs and Kisses!
To say that Emma Nolan had a boring life was inaccurate in so many aspects.
For one, Emma grew up with her two eccentric aunts who could be bright and bubbly one minute, and then obscure and serious the next. They loved to meddle in the love affairs of others, and they could very well do so, opportunity given or not. Women always approached them for help in their romantic lives; whether it involved removing another woman or sprucing up the dullness of their relationship.
They weren't biologically her aunts, just two women who her parents trusted. She had called them her aunts from the time she could talk, and they were listed as her guardians in her parents' will. They lived on a large estate at the top of a cliff, with a rickety house that clearly had amazing foundations as the upper levels practically spiraled out of control the higher it went. However, there was more to that as well.
Emma had chocolate cake for breakfast, hot cocoa with cinnamon for drinks, and the most delicious apple cider stew for dinner. Her aunts didn't believe in homework, but still sent her to school—it was mandatory in the United States—because their idea of education was daring, and had a much different curriculum that would never be understood.
As a child, Emma's most favorite past time was at night, when they tucked her into bed and told her stories.
The stories her aunts told her as a little girl involved heroes, villains, and magic. They were fairytales, but fairytales that were almost drastically different from Disney and Brother's Grimm. Some were darker, some characters had different names, and some stories were interconnected in ways that Disney had yet to make. Sometimes, evil won, but the heroes were never far behind. The stories gave her the one thing she was lacking in the time that she first lived with them: Hope. They breathed life into the recently orphaned girl who was terrified of the things that were happening around her.
Some of the stories, the ones that required the most vivid imaginations and spoke of unstoppable magic were told outside in the gardens, where the rawest elements of magic touched her and flitted with her spirits. Where she could feel the ocean breeze and dance with the winds. Where she imagined the fireflies were young fairies who woke from their slumber to play with her. Her aunts always told her that fairies were brighter.
In the midst of their stories, her aunts would always watch her with forlorn smiles. Although she was twirling, dancing, and making herself dizzy from the nightly freedom, she had only half of her spirit. Emma knew, but she wasn't too worried about it, she still learned to enjoy her half-filled life, just as her mother always did.
When she listened to the stories, she saw her mother. She saw her father. She saw their unbreakable love.
She swelled with happiness and pride when her aunts told her that her parents' love for each other was the legendary love of all stories: true love.
And it was their true love that gifted their bright, golden baby with the gift of magic.
When her parents were alive, they took her to the aunts' chaotic home to have her practice her out of control magic. It was a part of her, and they wanted her to accept it, love it, and harness it to her every whim.
Emma blossomed and flew with flying colors. Sometimes quite literally.
She casted simple spells, made things float to her when she was too far, and made the plants and herbs grow overnight when the aunts were low on ingredients. Although she was young, on Halloween she joined her aunts and jumped from the highest tower of their home and flew to the ground to appease the trick-or-treaters that awaited for the magic they showed.
There was an old spell book the aunts owned that was passed down generation after generation. It was thick, leather bound, with fraying, yellowing pages and loopy writing. Some pages were written in foreign languages, others had images that were bright and airy, filled with joy, while others were dark, sinister, and suffocating by just looking at them. It was repeatedly sewn back together as each generation added to it. It was a book laden with spells not to be casted while staring down one's nose, but that mattered not to Emma.
Emma snuck spells from the spell book that she was confident she could do and presented them to her family who praised her for her resourcefulness. Her talents seemed endless.
Until the year her parents died.
David Nolan was doing his job, helping the family friend Leroy with constructing a new home. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but her mother was outright terrified.
Mary-Margret begged David to stay in the safety of the aunts' home. She was almost hysterical. David, ever the optimistic, told her not to worry, their curse had passed when their daughter was born. There was nothing for them to be afraid of anymore.
When he kissed his wife and daughter good-bye, her mother lost all the color in her skin. And when he drove away in his red pick-up truck, she screamed.
She screamed until her voice was raw and ran to the guest room. Emma tried to follow, absolutely terrified by her mother's reaction, but the aunts held her away, whispering in her hair that everything would be alright. But she knew it wasn't. She was as sure of it as she was in the magic in the tips of her tiny fingers.
She heard her mother tearing apart the guest room, looking for something to stop the foreboding feeling they all felt. There was crashing, ripping and she feared her mother would fall through the ceiling as Emma could hear her strip the room bare.
Then, Emma heard it.
The tell-tale ticking of the death watch beetle.
Tears poured from her eyes when it stopped its frantic ticking and her mother's final screams shook the whole house.
The curse was not broken.
David Nolan died in an accident. The beams he stood on fell apart, plummeting him to his death and burying him under bricks.
Mary-Margret followed him not long after of a dreadful broken heart.
Leaving Emma alone in the world with her troublesome magic. She was barely nine years old, and it seemed she had cried out the last of her tears. She wore black so often to school that she began to terrify the other students. The skin on her bones grew ghastly pale and she remained silent during lessons which brushed up old, hurtful rumors from under the carpet.
Everyone in the town knew of the magic in her aunts' house. Everyone knew she had magic. Grown women whispered behind their hands as she passed, couples walked briskly away from her, and the children were relentless in their teasing when they deemed it past time for her to mourn the loss of her parents.
She had seemed to lose the control of her magic in the face of her peers. When they cornered her, she didn't know how to control her magic. She was so distraught that her magic either went opposite of what she wanted or nothing happened at all. There was so much chaos within herself and around here that Emma feared that one day she would hurt someone with her magic. So, for many weeks Emma found herself running home to avoid the stones thrown her way.
"Witch! Witch! Witch! You're a bitch!"
Stroybrooke, didn't always take kindly to witches.
When she was in the safety of her aunts' home, the children left her alone. The protection spell on the house drove away hostility, and the children's would walk away with glazed looks in their eyes, not stopping until they reached their own respective homes.
Emma learned to never enter through the main door during that time. She always made her way to the greenhouse to smear away her new cuts and bruises with the herbs her aunts had growing. Her aunts were already worried about her adjusting to her parents' death at the time, there was no need to worry them about the bullying she endured at school.
It was a routine she started grew used to, until an older girl happily sat herself next to Emma during lunch with a wolfish grin and glittering grey eyes.
"Hi! I'm Ruby! I think you being a witch is awesome."
Ruby was often alone at school much like Emma, but for reasons different than she originally thought. It was so strange to Emma. Ruby was spirited and outgoing, having no problem with shoving a bully on their back and giving them a few good punches. And she was wonderfully kind that it boggled Emma's mind that Ruby was just as alone as Emma was. Emma had a new protection and was taking the front door to her house.
When she brought her new friend home—they walked, as the children were too terrified of the older girl to approach Emma—her aunts welcomed her with open arms and asked her if she needed a new batch of Wolfsbane potion. Emma was shocked.
"My grandmother still has a bit left. We're actually about to try that red cloak you revived. It worked for my mother, so Gran thinks it will work for me too."
Emma then found out why everyone else was afraid of Ruby. There were rumors that they feared were true, but could not prove. In the minds of mortals, if there were witches in their world, there were certainly other magical creatures. With that knowledge, there were only one species of creatures that needed a Wolfsbane potion. Creatures that even Emma didn't know existed. Ruby was a werewolf.
When the realization dawned on Emma, Ruby winked at her and said, "Aren't we perfect for Halloween?" (They would never be able to celebrate Halloween together as that was more often than not the night of the full moon. If it wasn't, Ruby was busy recovering from her transformation.)
Emma was still a victim to the vindictive children during her lessons, but during lunch and her way home from school, she was flanked by Ruby who enjoyed asking her questions about magic. Her magic specifically.
During a sleepover at Emma's house, she and Ruby giggled away, munching on the chocolate covered strawberries her aunts procured for them. She was practicing magic and had successfully breathed magic onto the wick of a candle, alighting it with a flame that glowed brightly. Her aunts praised her with smiles. It had been quite some time since Emma was able to do magic with proper results. Ruby tried to do the spell, hoping her qualities as a werewolf gave her some kind of powers. Of course, no such luck, but that didn't bother Ruby and Emma enjoyed watching her friend practically spit on the wicks as she blew too hard. Their giggling seemed endless, until there was a desperate rapping on their back door by the kitchen.
With wary looks in their eyes, the aunts shooed the girls upstairs, requesting that Emma continued to practice her spells.
The girls, however, were still curious children. They crouched by the banisters under a simple cloaking spell Emma conjured.
A distraught woman entered their home. A woman who feared them so much that Emma didn't need werewolf senses to smell it. She couldn't catch everything—Ruby would tell her in the darkness of her room—but she knew this woman was under a spell of obsession. She wanted a married man that wasn't hers to love her and only her until he couldn't stand it.
Emma gripped Ruby's hand tight. This was the serious magic her aunts were known to dabble in, she could see it in their faces, in their magic. The brightness that resembled the fairies they told her about was gone and in its place, something grey and gloomy, like a storm. Her bitterer aunt, Aunt Tina, held a harmless bird in the face of the maddened woman while the other, Aunt Nova, gave the woman a half-foot long needle with the claw of a young hawk at the end of it.
"I want him to want me," the woman hissed, and stabbed the needle through the bird's hear.
Emma gasped and buried her face in Ruby's shoulder, deciding that she had had enough of that torturous emotion called love. Ruby might not feel it, but Emma felt the magic working, twirling around the house, flickering the flames, and altering the direction of the breeze. It wasn't dark, but the woman's wishes were very selfish, and selfish wishes resembled dark magic.
"I hope I never fall in love, I hope I never fall in love," she chanted, hearing the old screams of her mother in her ears.
"Be careful what you wish for," she heard Aunt Tina say. It was to the woman, but she felt it was also for her.
Emma couldn't sleep that night. She was restless from her newfound fear of love and the magic that came along with it. She vowed that she would not be driven mad like that woman, that she would not lose herself to the bitter clutches of love that ripped her parents from her. She vowed to not die of a broken heart.
To make that vow work, she needed her magic.
Under the light of the crescent moon, Emma worked her spell in her aunts' apothecary room. On the table was a little black book where her spell was hastily written down when it came to her. She named it 'Amas Veritas'. With a wooden bowl tucked in her arm, half full with white petals she started to recite the incantations.
"He will hear my call a mile away," she hummed, "he will whistle my favorite song, he can sail a vast ship by himself."
"Emma," her green eyes smiled at her curious friend who had made an appearance at twilight. "What are you doing?"
"Summoning up a true love spell, called 'Amas Veritas'," she jumped upon a stool and started to pluck the blood red petals of a rose, "he fights with all of his heart, and he will be marvelously kind." Emma jumped to the next stool and eyed the star shaped flower that called to her. "And his favorite shape is a star." She smiled at the flower and dropped it into her bowl and moved to a plant that her aunts were struggling to keep alive because it was one that couldn't exist. "And he will have eyes as strong and blue as the sea he loves." She plucked two from the plant before kissing its leaves to thank it for its sacrifice. Her incantations complete, Emma moved along.
Ruby followed her, her arms crossed over her chest. "I thought you never wanted to fall in love?"
A dejected smile touched Emma's lips as this man she created in her head smiled back at her. "That's the point," she whispered, stepping through the French doors she pushed open with her magic. She trekked to the cliffs where the waves were lapping the rocks gently that night. "The guy I dreamed of doesn't exist. And if he doesn't exist, I'll never die of a broken heart."
Emma breathed to stir her magic and held her offering, her spell to the magic of the sea and the moon. Magic was always strongest during a full moon, but with only a gentle sliver of it, it was perfect for Emma's spell. She called forth her own magic causing the petals to drift up and spiral around each other. The few colored petals she plucked stood out in the flurry of white petals and they brought a brighter and hopeful smile to her face. She would not die of a broken heart.
Several years passed since her spell, and Emma grew to have a decent control over her magic, but not so much of her temper. It flared to life when she accepted that her parents were gone, leaving her behind. She was mostly bitter with her mother. She knew it was unfair, to judge her mother when her mother couldn't speak up for herself, but she was an angry teen, with angry magic. And her crave for a normal life, one that didn't have magic, made her angrier, particularly because she couldn't stop using it even though she wanted to.
Emma grew tired of the taunts and the fear that the people of Storybrooke gave her. She wanted more than just her one friend Ruby—whom she loved with all her heart. She wanted to walk around town without the stares, like she was some ancient chimera. Sometimes, she felt like one, inside and out.
It distressed her aunts who reminded her daily that she needed to meditate and calm her anger. Anger bred dark magic, and dark magic was another level that required massive control that they weren't certain Emma had.
As a teen, Emma always tossed it over her shoulder. Her aunts were just worrywarts.
One morning, during her last year of high school, someone entered town that made the magic in Emma's bones stand on end. She meant to bring it up to her aunts at breakfast but there were nowhere to be found. Thankfully, she knew she wasn't the only one who felt it. Ruby was huddled to herself when she met up with Emma after school, hugging her arms and looking over her shoulders every few minutes.
"This is dark magic," Ruby whimpered, "I almost forgot what it felt like… We hadn't had this kind of magic since…" Her werewolf friend choked and couldn't say the person's name, no matter how much Emma begged her to tell. "Trust me, you're better off not knowing."
On their relatively quiet walk home, they ran into a new face. It was a young man, older than them, with short hair that was starting to curl at the edges even though it was gelled up. He had a goatee and a lopsided grin that was missing its light while he moved boxes from the small moving truck into the old Victorian home they always passed on their way to Emma's house.
In the nine years Emma lived in Storybrooke, she never saw any life in that old, elegant house.
"Hey girls, heading home?"
Ruby quickly smiled and stuck out her hip, her hands planted firmly them. "We're not girls."
"Ruby!" Emma hissed.
The man laughed and placed a box on the floor. He dusted his hands on his torn light blue pants and took Ruby's hand in his. He gave a dramatic bow and kissed her knuckles. Ruby looked so proud of herself for getting a man to greet her as such. It wasn't hard for Ruby, what with the short red skirts she always wore now that she no longer went to school. Grown, rumors vanished, and out of school, men always wanted to greet her with a spectacle.
"My apologies my lady, might I have your name?"
"You may. I'm Ruby Lucas."
He nodded his head at her and released her hand when he deemed her satisfied with his show. "Neal Cassidy."
He turned his chocolate brown eyes to Emma and they glittered when theirs eyes locked. Emma felt her breath getting stolen, bringing forth goose bumps. She shook her head. Crazy. Ruby may have liked the show but it made Emma wary of the man. She stuck out her hand and watched him with her head tilted to the side and her brow cocked, daring him to even try that feat he just pulled on her friend.
"Emma. Nolan."
The corners of his eyes wrinkled as he looked at her. He didn't back down from her glare and took her hand, shaking it firmly. Emma almost hissed when she felt magic surging through his skin. It was old, untrained, and unwanted. It was withering away in the man, desperately clutching at her magic as if it was the elixir of life. When he tried to jerk his hand away from her, she gripped his hand tighter, her mouth slackened as his eyes slowly grew darker with distaste, even though he was smiling. He was a warlock.
He revoked his magic.
But there was enough in him to know that she was magical as well.
Emma quickly released his hand and he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Uh," he shifted his footing and nodded at the girls, "Where are you guys heading?" He was being silly, he knew the answer from his first words to them, but the shared moment with Emma made the air awkward around them.
"Emma's. She lives in that tower over there," Ruby pointed at the winding levels of Emma's home that could be seen throughout the town. Emma hissed and pushed Ruby's arm down.
"Oh, so you're Tina and Nova's niece?"
She nodded slightly, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Yea, you know them?"
"Do I. I actually just finished saying hi to them. They haven't aged since I was a kid." Emma laughed. No, she supposed they never did. Even if Emma were to finger through old photographs, the aunts didn't look any different. They promised to tell her their secret when she was older and in need of an ageless potion. "Good pair of women."
A genuine smile graced her lips. "Yea, they are."
"Bae."
Ruby hissed under her breath as they looked at the threshold where the voice came from. Emma froze on the spot under the dark gaze of a cold man. It was him. The dark magic she felt that morning at breakfast was coming from him.
He stood at the door, with his sleek black cane pressed into the floor between his feet. He was short, with chin length mousy-brown hair, a hooked nose, and what seemed to be a permanent sneer on his lips. The cane he held between his fingers had a gold handle and he rubbed it in a slow circular motion as he eyed all three of them. But his beady, almost black, eyes lingered on Emma longer than she liked. It was only seconds, but it was enough for Emma to notice.
She flinched when she felt his dark magic lick at her flesh, testing her. He, like Neal, knew she had magic without verbally asking. The sinister quality of the magic that started to wrap around her and chill her blood was enough from Emma to thrust up her magic against his that wanted to suffocate her in retaliation. When he called the sickening tendrils of his magic back, he smirked.
Neal, possibly unaware of the exchange, shook his head furiously and turned to the man. "How many times do I have to tell you? It's Neal. If I'm going to start living with you again, you're going to need to respect that."
The man bowed his hand, and stalked down the stairs. "My apologies son. Who are these lovely girls?" He kept his eyes on Emma. When neither of them responded, he nodded his head at Ruby. "Ah, yes, I remember you Miss Lucas. However," he lifted his cane and pointed it was Emma who stuck out her chin. "You, dearie, I don't recall ever seeing before I left."
"She moved in after you left," Ruby supplied, taking Emma's arm in hers, keeping her close. Both of them breathed easier, but their hearts couldn't stop racing.
Neal skipped up the steps to his father's side and hissed at him. "And you're going to leave her alone. Do you understand me? She's not a plaything."
The man chortled darkly, "You've touched her. I see her residue on your hand. You may have revoked your magic, but you'll always know when the person in front of you has magic. She's curious. Bursting with magic." His gaze met hers again, and his smirk widened, exposing a gold tooth. "I've never met anyone like you miss. My apologies if I come off too strongly."
Emma kept her mouth shut, not trusting her wit at the moment.
"Look, just go inside, I'll get everything in, okay?"
"Ah, that won't be necessary," with a wave of his hand, the boxes vanished from the truck. Everyone present was magical, they weren't shocked to see them vanish.
Neal cursed and stepped away from his father. "You're really pushing it, papa."
The man waved almost passively at Neal, but she saw the shake in his figure, "I'm sorry, my magic is my crutch that I can't live without."
"Well, you need to start learning how to. You'll lose me again if you don't." Neal stepped away from his father whose smirk was wiped almost entirely from his face.
Neal nodded in the direction of her house, "Why don't I walk you girls the rest of the way home?"
As they left the Victorian home, Ruby whispered in Emma's ear, "That man was Robert Gold. He pretty much owns the whole town. He's a really powerful dark wizard."
Emma's brows shot to her hairline, "Well, with that kind of magic, it's no wonder Neal left him. I felt like I could never be happy again when he touched me with his magic."
In front of them, Neal cocked his head in their direction, "Yea, that's exactly how it feels sometimes." Emma then realized that she wasn't speaking in the same hushed tones as her friend which earned her a pinch in the ribs.
As months passed, Emma ran into Neal more often than she wanted to. It was clear that he didn't like her because she was a witch and Emma was jealous of him. Jealous that he was living a life that was as close to normal as a person of magic could live. She wanted to ask him how he revoked his addictive magic, but couldn't find it in herself to ask. Every time she was prepared to ask, she saw her parents' proud faces when she perfected a spell and she sewed her mouth shut.
However, much to both their surprise, they warmed up to each other, quicker than they liked. They ventured out on their own, going out on dates that Emma repeatedly told herself were just hangouts, and nothing would come of it. She was fooling herself of course, especially when they confided the feelings of their personal lives to each other.
It was when he was moving into his own apartment, after securing a steady job, that Emma found herself pressed up against his door with his mouth against hers, his disdain for her magic clearly tossed aside for her personality. For her, for Emma. Everything after that escalated too fast for Emma to keep up.
Her life was becoming normal… She found herself using her magic less and less, and it made her happy.
Neal proposed to her, not long after she surprised him with her own secret in his apartment: She was pregnant. She may have lost a few points of normalcy by becoming pregnant outside of wedlock but she didn't care. She loved Neal Cassidy and her baby. They planned to marry quickly to avoid the awkward stares but the aunts were having none of it, saying that the ceremony would further bless the unborn child in her belly with a healthy life. Emma wasn't one for the superstition, but it was strange to see Neal take them up on it. He may not have practiced magic but he followed many superstitions to keep them out of harm's way.
At the wedding, Mr. Gold had a pleased look on his face, a shock to everyone in their small wedding except Neal and Emma. He was hesitant to approve of their love and their situation, but his relationship with Neal was still taut and straining. So, he begrudgingly allowed them to do as they pleased.
Days before the wedding, he saved Emma from a terrible fall in the outdoor market. When she tried to pull away from his grasp, he held her tighter with wide eyes. His hand trembled over her swelling belly and Emma felt a warm feeling from her child. The child always welcomed the touch of a family member, even though Emma didn't want Mr. Gold to be one. That warm feeling was charging her magic and Mr. Gold felt it. They were both aware that his grandchild would have magic as strong as Emma's even though the sire had rejected his own. That excited him, and led him to stay by Emma's side for the rest of the day.
Emma was sure to invite Mr. Gold, as thanks for his advice for helping her through her pregnancy with a magical child and to bury the hatchet between father and son.
Mr. Gold gave the pair his eternal blessing at the toast of the reception and Emma had never seen Neal look so joyously at his father.
More years passed, their son, Henry, grew to be a wonderful little five year old boy, and Emma enjoyed her now normal life. When she walked with Neal through town, there were no more hard stares, no more thrown rocks. They could walk outside with Henry riding his kiddie bicycle and wave hello to others and receive smiles. Children treated their son Henry like he was a normal boy, often asking for sleepovers and sharing their belongings with him.
However, there were times that Henry liked to test his mother's magic with his own in the proximities of their house.
Emma found herself using magic again, alongside with Mr. Gold who enjoyed hearing the squeals of his grandson while he cast simple magic around the boy when he visited. Neal didn't entirely approve when she used magic, but he understood that it was necessary: his son was magical and Henry loved his magic.
Neal did love the concoctions his wife created for him to use for his hygiene. They involved the herbs from the aunts' greenhouse and sometimes rare ingredients from his father's apothecary room. There was a shaving cream mix that had coconut and wheat blended together that he enjoyed, and several times she caught him eating it rather than using it to shave.
Emma couldn't wish for anything more.
But the fates were cruel. During a dark, windy night she heard a sound she never thought she'd hear again: the ticking of the death watch beetle.
Neal had already left for work and Henry was away at school.
Emma, mad with fear, became her mother.
She overturned her bed, knocked aside dressers, and removed the floorboards of her home with a crowbar. There was a tightness in her chest that made it difficult to breathe as the ticking grew faster while she burst through the parts of her home where she heard the infernal beetle. She called forth her magic, trying to find Neal as she accepted her fact that she would not catch the death watch beetle to squash it. When her magic found him she coated him with it, hoping it was enough to stop the death of her husband.
She felt something sharp in the depths of her body and she yelped in pain, feeling her magic rip itself from her to control the events she couldn't see.
The ticking grew louder and louder, more frantic with each millisecond as she continued with her interference. It made her feel like her ears where bleeding. She would do this… She would get through this. She had magic at her side while her mother had nothing. Neal would not die.
Then, it stopped. And she felt the ghostly feeling of something slamming into her side. Her magic rushed back to her full force, leaving her breathless.
"No…" she sobbed, "No, no, no."
She screamed her throat raw.
Mr. Gold picked up Henry from school after receiving a tearful call from Ruby that Emma was up to her neck in broken floorboards. She screamed and cried in her friend's arms as her dearest friend told her how Neal died.
Ran over by a truck. Of course. Of fucking course.
First her father, and now Neal.
Unable to handle the weight of it all, Emma ripped herself from her friends grasp and raced home ignoring her calls.
She yelled to the oceans that were dark from the night and furiously crashing against the rocks. "It was the curse wasn't it!? He died because I loved him so much!" she wishing for all this to be but a dream. Everything in her life to that very day was, she wished, nothing but a dream.
The next morning, she woke in the grass of her aunts' estate, covered in dew. She blinked her swollen eyes to Mr. Gold's cane and polished shoes. She slowly looked up, thinking that his eyes would be full of hate. It was her job to keep Neal alive. Her magic was tied to Neal, was stronger than Mr. Gold's magical tie was to his son. But in the cold man's eyes, was the same sadness she held, they both lost the person they loved.
"They never told you?" he asked, "Of the curse that wretched woman placed on your family?"
Weakly, Emma shook her head. The aunts never went into depth of the curse, no matter how she begged. In time, they always said, in time. As if they were waiting to see if it was truly broken with her, as her father thought it was. It was cruel of them, she lost Neal because of it.
Her father-in-law sighed. He crouched down to her side and rest his hand on her head. "Poor dearie. The women of your family are cursed by a bitter woman. She cursed your ancestor, many years ago. Any man to fall in love with the women of the Swan family is doomed to die."
Her jaw fell open. She didn't want to believe it, but it made sense… She thought of her mother and her lack of grandparents. She thought of her mother, so worried about a curse that seemed to lurk in the corners for her, she thought of the old women, whispering behind their hands as she walked by, shaking their heads as if they knew something she didn't.
She remembered the way Mr. Gold looked at her and tested her when they first met. Everyone knew her family's story and its terrible curse.
Everyone fucking knew. And they didn't tell her.
"If you knew…" she croaked, groping the lapels of his disarrayed suit, "Why did you let him love me?"
Mr. Gold bowed his head, "Because, dearie, there was never magic in your family. And by some miracle it shows up in you, and it's strong. Powerful. So powerful, that since the day I met you, I wished to lock you away and inspect the magic that bled from your pores. A product. A child of true love was more powerful than a child of pure-blood witches and wizards like my son. You are a tale come to life dearie. And when I saw the look on my boy's face, as he fell in love with a woman of magic, I hoped that you had broken the curse with your magic. Your light magic."
Emma seethed feeling more broken than she ever had. Useless. Damn her useless magic. "My magic can't save anybody."
After Neal's funeral, Emma sold their house and took the offer to live with her aunts until she found another home. Unlike Mr. Gold, they would respect her decisions.
"This is only temporary, so don't get too comfortable," she said, holding Henry's hand tight in one hand and a suitcase in another. "There'll be no chocolate cake for breakfast. Homework will be done after dinner, and teeth brushed before bed."
When Aunt Tina and Aunt Nova stepped out to greet her and Henry she stared them down. She loosed her magic one last time, lashing out at her aunts who flinched but still approached them. "As for you two, the same thing I told Mr. Gold: My son will never do magic. Ever."
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