Author's Note: Well, I'm back again with another novel length story for the final ever Red Queen Week. I'm sad about this awesome event ending, but also understand the reasons. That said, I hope everyone enjoys the amazing work that gets posted this week! And make sure to give thegirl20 lots of love for organizing this and the previous events as well.

For reference, the OC that shows up at the end of the chapter is physically based off of Poppy Drayton of Shannara Chronicles fame, thus the cover art. A larger image can be found on my imgur. I'd link it but is garbo at formatting. And the soundtrack to this entire fic is James Horner's astounding, "The New World," which can be listened to on Youtube or Spotify.

This will be my only Author's Note for this story, so I hope everyone enjoys! If anyone is interested in discussing things, all my work is available on Ao3. Link in my profile. Also, I want to give a huge thanks to my awesome beta, UnfairestOfThemAll, for keeping me on the straight and narrow! Last but not least, as always, if there are any glaring errors, report them to me via PM and I'll fix them up.

Standard Disclaimer: The ain't mine, I'm just messin' with 'em. Don't sue me, please.

Chapter 1 - A Fortuitous Introduction

A biting wind whips through Regina's hair, stinging the exposed flesh on her face. Heart heavy, she's lagging a step behind Emma as they trudge wearily in the direction of what used to be George's kingdom. Or it least it was in their reality. The alterations encountered recovering Emma from the grips of the Jinn spell that created this false narrative has precluded the idea of predicting what else has changed in the wider world beyond the borders of the restored kingdom of White.

As it is, this area of the faux Misthaven is one she can only dimly recall catching a brief glimpse of during her intra-realm travels from a distance of some ten or more miles. Before today, she'd never set foot inside this particular forest. Sparsely populated as it is by giant evergreens and bristly underbrush that all look the same to her, maintaining orientation is difficult. To make matters worse, the little dirt path serpentining through the unfamiliar woods is barely wide enough for two to walk abreast, and the uneven footing is hell on her ankles and booted heels. Not an auspicious beginning to the journey by any means.

As they press forward in a westerly direction, the hope is to stumble upon a location she recognizes before they are in real trouble. It is nearing dusk, and already the temperature is dropping at an alarming rate, which doesn't bode well for a newly reawakened Savior still arrayed in the gaudy garb of a princess. Woefully augmented by a fur-lined cape, the getup will afford only scant protection from the cold. Being a displaced mayor in a winter coat isn't doing Regina any favors either, seeing as Maine does not suffer from such bitter cold as does the Enchanted Forest caught in the harsh throes of winter. If they get stranded out here, they will need to make a fire if they wish to avoid freezing to death overnight. The only problem with that is the illumination of the flames will render them susceptible to location. If her memory serves and is applicable in this unique quandary they've found themselves in, bandits litter nearly every corner of the interstitial forests forming a natural boundary between the two neighboring realms. Or, even worse, wolves. Or even worse than that, ogres.

The only other option is to magic them into warmer clothes and perhaps summon a sphere to shield them from the elements. But clothing, however thick, will only go so far when it is bound to drop well below freezing tonight, and maintaining a spell strong enough to form an artificial atmosphere around them would require more effort than they could afford to risk. One of them would have to expend their energies whilst the other slept only to then exchange places when reserves were nearly depleted, leaving both weakened by the time dawn offered a reprieve from the unforgiving elements. Such an extreme measure was inadvisable given that Regina had no idea what dangers tomorrow would bring. Seeing as how dreadful today has been to present, she isn't keen on depriving both herself and Emma of their only means of self-defense.

In the wake of being accosted and deprived of what little valuables she and Emma had on their persons by a version of Robin Hood not quite so much the noble thief as his real world counterpart, Regina had spent the better part of an hour lamenting her foolish bout of sentimentality. Rumple's bean had been expended for naught, all so she could extend a hasty invitation for a new beginning to a man who stated in no uncertain terms that he was quite happy with his current lot depriving nobles of their riches and keeping them all to himself. Watching Robin merrily strut away with their valuables was a cruel reminder that her happy ending was likely to never include finding lasting love. In a way, it was like losing him all over again, and if not for Emma, she may well have wallowed in her self-recrimination indefinitely.

"Look, I know you're upset, but kicking yourself until your ass is red isn't gonna do us any good in a few hours," the Savior had told Regina, looking increasingly concerned by their dire circumstance. "We're out in the middle of nowhere with no food, no shelter, and no way home. For obvious reasons we can't go back to my parents' kingdom, but for the same reasons we need to get moving ASAP. It won't be long before an army clamoring for your head, and lead by our son, catches up to us. And since I wasn't the most studious princess, I have no idea where we are. I need you to pick a direction."

Regina had stared at Emma as if the suggestion were patently absurd. "Me? I'm no cartographer, and even if I was, I didn't do much traveling off the beaten paths during my reign. This is your kingdom. You're telling me that none of the geographic lessons your mother undoubtedly forced you to endure stuck?" When Emma raised a golden brow and crossed her arms mulishly over her chest, she knew there was no point in further arguing over who was to assume the role of guide. It was the same look Emma got when she was sick of magic lessons and just wanted to go home and play X-Box. Regina imaged it was an expression with which Emma's tutors in this Wish Realm were well acquainted. "Alright. Fine," she sighed. "If I'm correct, George's kingdom lies to the west. Now, he's no friend of mine, but his lackeys will be less inclined to kill me on sight. I'd wager that to be our best bet."

"Works for me," said Emma with a nod. And with that, she used the setting sun to orient herself westward, then took off without bothering to wait for Regina, who scrambled after the Savior with as much dignity as she could muster.

They made it about a mile before Regina had enough of Emma grimacing every ten steps. She pulled up short and glared at her stubborn friend. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Why must you suffer needlessly? Just magic yourself into something more suitable for the road and be done with it."

"Because," Emma said as she paused to remove her slippers and rub at her abused heels, "if we stumble upon some honorable traveler along the way, I might can leverage who I am to get us a ride. I'm not the best at playing a damsel in distress, but I think I can manage well enough if I have to. I mean, I am a princess in this world. That has to count for something. Right?"

Regina stared at her friend dubiously. Logically the explanation made sense, but in Regina's experience relying on the compassion of a passerby in the Enchanted Forest was a good way to get oneself relieved of their valuables...or worse, seeing as they had no valuables to be relieved of thanks to Robin. For Emma's sake, she didn't bother to voice these doubts when they would were certain to be dismissed out of hand; talking Emma out of anything when her mind was made up was an exercise in futility Regina was not eager to participate in.

"Suit yourself. But I'll not hear any complaints in the morning when your heels are rubbed raw," she'd said, then stomped off down the path that disappeared all too soon into the shadows of a lugubrious looking forest.

"Gee thanks. The sympathy is much appreciated," she heard Emma sass as the blonde hustled to catch up.

After that, they settled into a steady rhythm that didn't tax Emma's slipper-clad feet any further than necessary. Along the way they discussed rudimentary plans to escape the desolate hell-hole they'd wound up in thanks to the Evil Queen. Strategizing helped fill up the oppressive silence of the forest and calm Regina's nerves, but the frisson of apprehension that took up residence in her chest after the gnawing disappointment that was Robin Hood remained stubbornly active. Like a nuisance honey bee, it hummed steadily in the background as she and Emma exchanged ideas – some good enough to warrant consideration, but mostly pitiably lacking viability.

In the end, they settled on slogging through the forests until arriving at a main thoroughfare, over which they could reach a decently populated village in George's realm. There, lost in the throng of habitual activity, they could poke around without causing too much of a fuss. With any luck, someone might have heard tale of the location of a magic bean they could procure, and by any means necessary. Or failing that, they might hear tale of a sorcerer of some renown who could be of aid in their search. Perhaps someone might even know where this realm's version of Jefferson hung his gaudy magical hat. As far as Regina knew, the hat, a bean, and the Sorcerer's wand were the only ways to travel between worlds. They could not assume Zelena, the Apprentice, or Merlin existed here, and furthermore if they, were available or amenable to call upon for aid in transporting them either directly to Storybrooke or to Oz, from whence they could beseech the Council of Directions for help getting them home.

Unfortunately they will find themselves at an immediate disadvantage should a hat portal be their only recourse. There is every possibility that even should they locate Jefferson, the hat will not work, as Regina is still uncertain as to whether or not the Wish Realm is an actual realm. She has her suspicions, of course, that it is not, that it is merely some sort of magical projection or temporary reality of a similar vein as Isaac Heller's warped version of their lives in Heroes & Villains. Beans and the Sorcerer's wand are able to overcome such an obstacle as they are magically linked to the person using them, drawing from thoughts and memories to form a portal between locations, however disparate. But the hat is connected to a central hub containing many doors, each one belonging to a world physically present within their shared spacetime. Meaning if this world is not real, no door to their Storybrooke would reside within the hat hub of this one.

Regina reveals none of this out of a desire to avoid exacerbating Emma's guilt over their situation. For while it may have been Regina's fault the bean portal Rumple provided expired, it was Emma's unexpectedly granted wish that was ultimately responsible for their current predicament. Thus far the Savior has convincingly pretended to be unaffected by her moment of weakness entertaining doubts about her calling, doubts the Evil Queen so gleefully leveraged to rid herself of a formidable foe. But Regina knows Emma too well to fall for the stoic mask she's put on. The self-recrimination underneath is well concealed, but it peaks out just enough for her to recognize. Everyone else might miss it, but Regina knows it because she sees it often enough when she studies her own reflection.

With their plan of action decided, they passed the time chattering about various things, but the main subject is the one that will forever bind them together: their son. Regina was especially interested in Emma's perspective as to how Henry is currently doing in school, and to probe the blonde for insight into his innocent relationship with Violet. Talking about Henry helped to ease the pain of separation for both women, and sharing stories about him made the interminable miles plodding through a seemingly unending forest at least somewhat tolerable.

An hour came and went on the journey to get to the present, and another slips by before they give up altogether on finding civilization. It will soon be too dark to press on any further. The need for a spot to hunker down is growing imminent, so they search for a suitable area to provide a modicum of concealment from whatever creatures lurk in the darkness.

After finding a dense patch of trees, they settle in the center and then quickly make a fire to warm themselves. Both are shivering from the cold, so they huddle together as the night falls around them in earnest. And with the wind having died down, the only sound outside of the crackling of the fire is the gentle rustling of foliage from the canopy above. In the eerie hush of the evening forest, it is a haunting melody that sends chills up Regina's spine. Neither of them speak for the longest time, immersed in both watching out and listening in for potential threats as well as they can through the inky blackness.

"Hey," Emma calls out, breaking the unbearably heavy silence that has filled the tiny space between their huddled up bodies.

Regina glances over to find her friend's face cast in the gentle orange glow of the fire, and painted with a vibrant sympathy that makes her feel even worse. She'd hoped Emma wouldn't notice her carefully modulated brooding over Robin and how she'd committed the cardinal sin of daring to believe the universe, for once, might cut her a break. Her tragic bout of blind optimism was slapped down with such terrific force that her head was still spinning. She should really know better by now than to expect anything else.

"It's okay," Emma goes on with that soft, almost whispered inflection of hers that only grates on Regina's nerves when it doesn't. Like now, when Emma is all big, earnest eyes and liberally bleeding heart. "You didn't do anything wrong. I get it. If that had been Neal..."

When Emma trails off, Regina swallows heavily. "While I'm grateful for your understanding, it's not the same."

"Isn't it?"

Regina frowns deeply. "No, Emma, it's not. You wouldn't have gotten distracted as I did. You wouldn't have hesitated to do what was necessary to get back home to our real lives and families...to our very real son. I let my weakness rule me, and now we're paying the price for it."

"Love is not weakness, Regina. It's strength," says Emma, sounding so sure that Regina wants to believe.

She's been told that so many times these past few years that she had started to believe it. Then Robin died, shattering her heart into a million pieces she was still scrambling unsuccessfully to recover. Devastated and enraged, she found herself tempted, almost beyond her ability to resist, to forego putting her heart back together in lieu of reassembling the impenetrable armor her mother had once callously beaten and stuffed her into. Her friends refused to give up on her, though, so she remained miserable but otherwise emotionally intact. And Regina isn't entirely sure that's a good thing at the moment.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I would have chosen differently," Emma goes on, "but that doesn't make yours any less legitimate. You got put into an impossible position, so stop beating yourself up over it. Not only is it pointless because, as I said, you didn't do anything wrong, but it's unproductive. Stewing on guilt won't get either of us home any quicker."

"Sage advice. I'd take it to heart if I were you."

The airy, feminine voice which states that originates from somewhere in the shadows just beyond their little island within a sea of trees. Regina rockets to her feet, as does Emma, and both have their hands up, magic at the ready to defend themselves.

"Who said that?" Emma says, more demand than inquiry.

"I did," says the voice, and Regina can hear the hints of amusement in it.

Anger mixed with frustration over the situation pulses through her veins. She prepares to cast either a protection spell or a fireball, but refrains for a moment in the hopes this little standoff can be resolved without bloodshed.

"Who the hell are you?" she says, eyes vainly searching for the hints of clothing or skin or anything with which to identify the mystery woman.

"The better question is: who are you? And what are you doing in the Queen's forest?"

Unable to help herself and knowing the intruder can see them due to the fire, Regina adopts her most condescending smirk. "That's two questions, dear."

"Not helping, Regina," Emma says, then roughly brushes past her toward the origin of the voice. She holds up her hands to indicate she is not a threat. "Hi...whoever you are. We wish you no harm. We're merely peaceful travelers who hail from the White Kingdom. As you can see, we got a little bit lost on our way to the Royal Palace to seek an audience with King George."

"That would be an understatement and also a futile endeavor," says the young woman. "George has not ruled this realm in many years. My other question, however, remains unanswered."

While the information about George is of interest, Regina growls impatiently at the girl's deliberately obtuse response. "Assuming you have eyes, it's clear that we're not a threat. Neither of us are armed or dressed for combat. So why don't you show yourself? Maybe then we'll trust your intentions enough to tell you who we are."

The woman makes a sound of discontent, and a tense moment passes before the brush is being pushed away to reveal a tall, slender figure encased in supple, ornate looking black leathers. A mass of raven curls spill down her back and frame around a pretty face that steals Regina's breath away. There is something so familiar about her, the cut of her cheeks, her light olive complexion, the way she holds herself so proudly… Were it not for the fact that the young woman – who appears in her early to mid twenties – stands at least a good five feet eight inches and has eyes the color of evergreen needles, she might have thought her a relative. The differences, slight as they are, do not erase the uncanny likeness, and that, along with an eerie feeling in the pit of her stomach, has another possibility flashing through Regina's mind.

She is reminded of learning that her Wish Realm counterpart was banished by Snow and Charming instead of having her head removed from her neck as she probably – surely – deserved. Some small ember of hope still surviving inside lights up at the possibility that her alternate had, against all odds, survived the exile and then managed to scrape together a life for herself that included a family. It seems too far a stretch to seriously consider, but...could this young lady be her daughter? The likelihood is so infinitesimally small that the idea seems patently absurd.

And yet a strangely driven curiosity propels to shoulder her way around Emma and toward the young woman who has, it seems, captivated her by merely existing. The girl makes no move of alarm at Regina's advance, nor does her neutral if not cautious expression falter in the slightest as Regina approaches. Or at least until Regina is up close. Then her eyes widen with recognition and she falters back a step.

"Mother?" the girl breathes, confirming that Regina's impossible deduction wasn't so impossible after all, sending her heart into a fluttery tailspin. "What? I don't...I don't understand…" The young lady pauses, openly perplexed, and starts to reach for Regina as if on instinct. But then she realizes what she's doing, thinks better of it, and lets her hands flop useless to her side. "You're younger," she says after a tense moment of uncertainty, and then the questions come in a flurry. "What's happened? Did someone do this to you? Are you okay? And why are you out here with this woman?"

Vision whitening at the edges as shock grips her brain, Regina worries that she might faint. Thankfully Emma places a reinforcing hand to the small of her back, or else she would have. Which would have been terribly embarrassing. She takes a deep, fortifying breath to reclaim her composure.

"I'm not your mother, unfortunately," she says, meaning the last part so much that it hurts.

Learning she has a flesh and blood daughter here, and against all rationality she knows in her gut that this girl is hers biologically, is far more confusing and amazing and agonizing than seeing Robin again only to watch him walk away as if she mattered nothing to him. Which to be fair, she did mean nothing to him. But however much she loved Robin, however much she yearns for him still, the idea that in this Wish Realm she had fallen in love, conceived a child, and gave birth to such a gorgeous creature is nearly too much to bear. Even with Emma's unwavering support, the fringes of her mind that are currently holding by a tenuous thread are starting to fray.

"But you look and smell exactly like her!" the girl says, which astonishes Regina for the second time in nearly as many seconds.

This young woman recognized me by smell alone? She thinks, and her mind swims with possibilities she does not dare voice.

"And yet I'm not," she says instead, trying to keep her tone even and failing pretty spectacularly.

Brilliant green eyes narrow with suspicion. "Then who are you? Why are you here? Are you a spy meant to infiltrate the court and harm my parents?"

Regina holds her hands up in an attempt to disarm the tension. "No. It isn't any such thing. I swear to you on my father's memory. If you are my daughter as you say, you'll know that means I'm telling the truth."

The girl crosses her arms over her chest and glowers. The pursing of her lips tugs another string of Regina's memory that she can't quite follow to the source. Does she know the girl's father? If so, who could it be?

"Say I believe that," the dark-haired young lady says before the possibility of identifying the individual half-responsible for her existence can do much more than start to ferment in Regina's mind. "Explain why you look the same as my mother did when I was a child."

"Because I am her. Just not...exactly." The flailing explanation makes about as much sense to Regina as it does to her interrogator, whose perfectly arched brows scrunch together in confusion.

"I don't understand."

"We're from another world," Emma says, interjecting to rescue Regina from a disconcerting incident of foot-in-mouth disease. "One that is a little bit different from this one but with all of the same people. Sort of like a parallel universe, if you've heard of that sort of thing." The girl shakes her head negatively. "Okay, then. For the sake of simplicity, let's just say that very powerful magic brought us here from our world, and we kinda got stuck, so we're searching for a way back home. Can you help us?"

"Sadly I cannot," the girl says, appearing truly apologetic. "But...my mother is the most powerful sorceress in all the Realms. If anyone can lend you aid, it would be her."

When Regina catches Emma's eyes, boring into hers, they are silently inquiring, 'Can we trust your other self to help us?'

Her relationship with this familiar stranger aside, Regina laments putting them into a position where they must rely on a version of herself far more likely to greet them with open hostility than accommodation. But what choice do they have, stranded as they are in the middle of nowhere and without a ready means to get back to Storybrooke? Untrustworthy as she'd been as Queen, she was not an unreasonable woman on topics outside of a certain outlaw princess. And if anyone can be persuaded to help her, it should be...well, her. She shoots back a gaze that hopefully conveys the answer. Emma nods her acceptance, and so Regina says, "Then by all means, take us to her."

She is not at all expecting it when the girl – whom she is just starting to consider may really be her daughter – waves a hand and summons magic that smells and tastes and feels just like her own. Before a noise of surprise can even escape her throat, they are being teleported away. Regina's last thought is identical to Emma's instant exclamation upon reconstitution: "Holy shit!"