I began this story almost two years ago, but for a variety of reasons, I just couldn't seem to finish it. When I heard about the Captain Swan Big Bang, I thought it would be a great opportunity to finally wrap it up. So here it is!
The point of the Big Bang was not only to motivate authors to complete a big project, but also to pair authors with artists, who would then create art specifically for that story. I was beyond fortunate to have been paired up with swankkat (on Tumblr as snokone-lady and as swankkat), who is both a lovely, amazing person, and an extremely talented artist. She is providing art for every single chapter, and I have been completely floored. The cover art for this story here on ffnet is her work, and I urge you to head over to her Tumblr(s) to support her. Honestly, I kind of demand it, since I won't be able to post any of the art inside the text here for you to enjoy.
Thanks again to swankkat for both the art and beta-read, and to zengoalie, scapeartist, and optomisticgirl for beta-reading and providing great feedback!
Emma sighed heavily as her political advisors left her study; she immediately sent for a servant to run to the kitchens and bring her a mug of chocolate. Drinking chocolate was a luxury, and while she considered it a privilege she was granted as a princess, it was still a rare enough delicacy that she only indulged in it during times of great stress.
And this, she was sure, qualified as a time of great stress.
It just didn't seem possible that the Evil Queen and her relentless army could just vanish into thin air, even taking powerful magic into account. Impossibility aside, there seemed to be no reason for it either; if Regina was going to successfully destroy Snow White and David's happiness, why would she disappear?
It was an easy question to answer: she wouldn't. Regina was up to something, as usual, and Emma was entirely at a loss for how to handle the situation.
It didn't help that she had enough on her plate as it was already. Rumplestiltskin was frustrated with what he considered to be a lack of respect from her father, whose requests for magical assistance had been "too much like demands," and Emma now had to mediate the situation. She'd also just learned last week that the measures she'd taken to address the mild drought over the summer had been insufficient. And if that weren't enough for her to deal with already, this very afternoon, Henry and a scullery maid had been discovered together, lip-locked, in a pantry.
That was more distressing than she cared to admit. Henry was nearly fourteen now, around the same age she had been when she'd begun kissing people in pantries, but it was very difficult to think of him as anything except a child. Moreover, it wouldn't do to have Henry continue to grow up believing that it was acceptable to be so careless with his dalliances. She knew he was restless and unhappy in his role as a prince, but this wasn't the solution.
It was situations like these ones that made her miss Baelfire. If he were here, he could take Henry aside to him on discretion without their son rolling his eyes and making an irritated comment about royal decorum. And Bae was the only person she'd ever known who could soothe his father's tempers, whereas she was barely adequate in that role; she wished he were here so she could send him to knock some sense into the Dark One.
A soft tap on the door signified that her chocolate had arrived. She thanked the gods for the speedy service and called for the servant to enter. She could not wait until the messenger she had sent returned from Rumplestiltskin's estate: he would have some idea of what to do, her parents would enact a plan, she'd talk to Henry about his behavior, and everything would be fine. She just needed to ignore the nagging feeling in her gut that the situation was even worse than it appeared.
The following day, Rumplestiltskin's reply requested that she and her parents (or whichever one of them was available immediately, given that they rarely agreed to be in the same room together) should come to his estate for a private meeting. Normally, Emma would be happy to offer her own estate to host such a meeting, since she lived halfway between her father-in-law's lands and her parents' castle, but she agreed that Rumplestiltskin's estate was the better choice in these circumstances.
Rumplestiltskin employed no one in his household, relying on magic instead of servants. Part of the agreement of their alliance with Rumplestiltskin was that the door would always be open to the royal family. But anyone else who tried to infiltrate would likely meet their untimely, painful end; Rumplestiltskin still had quite a temper, especially since Bae had died. Therefore his home would offer the most security and privacy, which was crucial if they were meeting to discuss Regina.
And so Emma sent messages to her mother and father, ordered a carriage to be readied, and arranged for her and Henry's belongings to be packed. Henry seemed a bit anxious about the journey, though Emma couldn't tell if his anxiety had to do with the discussion he was expecting regarding the scullery maid, or if he was anticipating dangers along the road.
Both issues weighed heavily on her mind, though there was nothing she could do about the awkwardness of the former situation. As for the latter, she had more control: she ensured that they would have extra guards to escort them, and that they would take the fastest route to the Dark One's manor. This was no time to worry about having the smoothest ride, or traveling through some of the more populated villages to stop for a meal. Due to a spell enacted by the Dark One years ago, Regina couldn't directly cause them physical harm, but agents in her command still could. They still needed to be careful.
They left the following dawn, and the heavy morning mist was foreboding. As she expected, Henry was sullen and defensive as she tried to explain her concerns regarding his budding love life. She gave up after a few awkward minutes and stared out the tiny window. Perhaps she could ask Leo to talk to him instead; Henry idolized his uncle and would probably heed his advice.
As they reached the end of the road through the forest, not quite one third of the way to their destination, there was a shout of warning from the guards leading the carriage. They came to a relatively abrupt halt, and the coachwoman opened the carriage door. "My apologies, Your Highness," she said. "There is a fallen tree on the road. We shall attempt to remove it, but we may have to turn around and seek an alternate route."
"I see," Emma replied impassively. It was clearly no one's fault, but given the circumstances, the inconvenience seemed almost menacing; Henry was visibly alarmed by the situation. "I'd like to take a look." The coachwoman nodded and gave Emma her hand to help her out of the carriage.
She felt the strangest sense of déjà vu as she approached the massive tree blocking the road. It was certainly too long to go around in the carriage, which would have tipped over in the uneven underbrush of the forest. "Where is the nearest turn-off to take a different route?" she called out to the coachwoman.
"Approximately one league back," the woman replied. Emma frowned. She was reluctant to turn back around and lose that time; the longer they were on the road, the more danger they were in. But if they couldn't clear the road—and with the size of the tree, they were unlikely to—then they would either have to turn around anyway or continue on horseback. She did not like the idea of being out in the open in such uncertain circumstances.
Something else was bothering her, though. As a guard beckoned her over to the side of the road, to one end of the tree, she recalled a story about her parents. Snow White had cut down a tree, intending to block someone's carriage and rob them. She'd been targeting Regina's loyalists, but instead, she blocked the very road that David had been traveling down with his fiancée.
This situation reminded her of her parents' story. As she leaned over to examine the base of the fallen tree, she realized why.
The tree had been deliberately cut. This was an ambush.
After that split-second realization, as though it were a cue, the attack began. Black knights in Regina's livery had surrounded the road, and by the time Emma spun back to face the carriage, the coachwoman had already collapsed, sliding off of a black knight's blade and crumbling to the ground. Henry clambered out of the carriage, his own sword already drawn, and her sheathed sword in his other hand; he tossed it to her, and she quickly drew it and assessed the situation.
They had taken ten guards with them—typically, they would have only brought four or five—and there were at least twenty black knights in front of her. There would certainly be more behind her; they were likely surrounded. How had so many of Regina's soldiers made it this far into her parents' kingdom without being noticed? Probably magic, she thought disgustedly, and likely the same foul stuff that had permitted Regina to vanish in the first place.
Her annoyance with magic faded, and panic rose in its place: there was no way to win against so many of Regina's soldiers. And Regina rarely accepted surrender.
She and Henry would have to fight until they were dead.
She shoved the thought of her son dying out of her mind with brutal force and jogged towards the nearest knight. She would deal with the situation at hand, and then deal with whatever came next when she knew what that would be.
The first three soldiers went down quickly; Emma suspected that Regina had failed to brief her lackeys on the crown princess' fighting abilities. Instead, they learned of her skills by way of a blade severing their major arteries and veins in the small gaps in their mail and armor.
The next several soldiers posed more of a threat, especially since they seemed to be communicating well with each other; she only just managed to dodge a particularly well-executed strike which left a sizable gash in her gown. It also caused her to lose a bit of her balance, and another soldier managed to draw blood from her sword arm. It wasn't enough to impair her abilities, but she knew that the hit would raise enemy morale.
But soon enough, she'd dispatched the small group, and when she turned, she saw that some of her own guards were fending off enemy combatants effectively. That was promising; perhaps this wasn't entirely hopeless?
Meanwhile, she couldn't see Henry, although he might have been behind the carriage. She tried to quell her fear by reminding herself that he'd been training with a sword since he was small. But this was the first time he was required to fight—she narrowly dodged a blade. Had she been distracted with worry for one more second, she might have lost her hand. She had to focus, especially with survival still a possibility. And so another black knight went down, and then another, falling victim to her training and talent.
But there were inexplicably more and more soldiers. Every time Emma was able to catch her breath, another one of her guards was on the ground, dead or dying. Any chances of victory began to fade. She spat, bitter that she'd let herself have false hope.
And then the soldiers stopped; she nearly fell forward mid-parry when the particular man she'd been fighting backed away suddenly. They were retreating, not fearfully but deliberately—why?
"Well, dear, it looks like this wasn't the best day for you to be traveling."
She knew that voice. She felt a dull pang of satisfaction that, at the very least, the Evil Queen had shown up for her own battle. Emma turned around slowly, but immediately wished she hadn't.
Regina stood several yards away, in front of the carriage, her arm hooked tightly around Henry. As if this scenario weren't hellish enough, he was slightly slumped over, and his eyes were glazed; there was blood staining the front of his doublet.
"No!" Emma was relieved to see her son's eyes focus at the sound of her voice, but the change was only temporary. He was slipping into unconsciousness. There was so much blood.
"Don't worry, dear," Regina said coolly. "I'll take good care of my great-grandson. Even if I were capable of harming him, you know I never would."
"Let him go! Your quarrel is with my mother!"
"She destroyed my happiness! Her actions took away someone I loved. And so I shall take away someone she loves."
"You can't run from me." Her body felt numb, and her chest felt hollow. "I will find you."
"Best of luck, dear." Regina's tone made it clear she was unconvinced. And with a swirl of purple magic, she was gone.
And Henry was gone with her.
Emma's father found her hours later, sitting quietly among the bodies of her fallen guards, as he was making his own way to Rumplestiltskin's manor. Within another couple of hours, she was safely installed back in her home, bathed and with her wounds treated, wearing soft, comfortable clothing untarnished by the scars and stains of battle. Her father informed her that her mother and Leopold were on their way, and that they would figure out the next step as a family.
But of course, things only grew worse from there. The messenger that they had sent to Rumplestiltskin, to inform him of Henry's kidnapping, returned with the alarming news that the Dark One was missing, and that there were signs of a struggle. There was no question in Emma's mind as to what had happened: Regina couldn't have possibly crossed the Dark One's threshold … but Henry could. It seemed likely that grandfather, like grandson, was now held prisoner by the Evil Queen; at the very least, Rumplestiltskin would be unable to aid them.
Over the next several days, Emma's mind felt foggy as she sat in long meetings with her parents, her brother, and all their advisors and undercover operatives. Nothing they spoke of made sense to her: of course they couldn't figure out where Regina had gone, of course it was all but certain that she had the Dark One under her power now, of course there was no way to tell if Henry was still alive.
She knew he was. Obviously, Regina could easily have one of her guards dispatch him, but she knew that hadn't happened. It wasn't simply that she couldn't bear the thought of Henry's death. She was sure that, if her son were truly lost to this world, she would feel it in her very bones.
She also knew that these methods that both her parents were suggesting, which had failed to find Regina so far, would fail again. And new methods—dangerous, wildly inappropriate, and above all impractical—were quickly coming to mind.
Eventually, Leopold and David departed to speak with the agents they had sent earlier to dig for information, and Snow White stayed behind to urge Emma to eat. At least, Emma assumed that her mother had remained with her for that particular reason. But as soon as a tray arrived carrying soup, bread, and tea—all of which a grieving mother might be expected to keep down, all of which she was thoroughly sick of at this point—Snow dismissed the servants from the room and locked the door.
"I know that expression, Emma," she said softly before sitting down beside her.
"What expression?" Emma replied dourly. She felt nausea building up; she hated to disagree with her mother, and she was sure she was about to. "The expression of a devastated parent?"
"The expression of a determined one," Snow corrected gently. "You're thinking of going after him alone, aren't you?"
She felt immediately defensive. "We haven't been able to find Regina so far," she reminded her mother. "There's no reason to believe we'll find her if we keep sending out spies and other agents, and clearly our allies have no clue where she's gone. If I'm alone—if I travel covertly—I may be able to track her without raising her suspicions."
"Do you think I'm going to try to dissuade you?" Snow asked. "Emma, it's not simply that I cannot stop you, though it's true that I cannot. But even if I were capable of preventing you from leaving, I do think that perhaps your instincts are right. Besides," she said, shrugging, "I cannot imagine what you're going through right now, but I can imagine that sitting around and waiting to see if we find Regina might not be the best use of your time. Sitting and waiting has never been your nature anyway."
"Thank you for understanding." She could feel the knots in her stomach lessen; at least her mother was on her side. She took a tentative sip of broth. "I think there might be something at my father-in-law's estate that may be helpful. He has all sorts of magical artifacts."
"That's a little more stressful to me than the idea of you chasing after Regina alone," Snow admitted. "So many of that man's possessions are deadly. Are you sure that's the right place to start?"
Emma shrugged. "It's been impossible to find Regina through non-magical means. And my father-in-law has ensured that his estate is safe, at least for us. After all, it was easier to make everything safe than it was to keep Henry from running around and touching everything …"
The memory seemed to break some sort of dam within her, and tears that she thought had dried up came pouring out. Her mother's arms wrapped around her, and she felt like she was eight years old again, sobbing after waking up from a nightmare.
Once her tears finally subsided, her mother called in two of Emma's most trusted servants. After swearing both of them to secrecy, Snow White set them about their tasks. One of them got to work, collecting and packing the necessities for Emma's journey: two sets of traveling clothes, her newly cleaned sword and her dagger, a cloak, a waterskin, dried provisions, a compass, some bandages and medicinal herbs, a small bedroll and blanket, sleepwear, and enough money and jewels to bribe even the most avaricious mercenary, ship's captain, or innkeeper several times over.
The other servant brought shears and dye made from black walnut to take care of Emma's hair. While she was not the only woman in the realm with long, golden locks, it was a well-known feature of hers. She was reasonably sure that if someone met a woman in her thirties with flowing blonde tresses who happened to be looking for her missing son, that someone would immediately identify her as the princess. By the end of the night, her famed golden mane, which had reached below her hips, had been replaced with chestnut hair that fell only a few inches past her shoulders.
"If something happens to me, I will send you a message," she told her mother as she dried her hair. "No news will be good news."
"How will you get a message out if something goes wrong?" her mother asked skeptically.
Emma simply shrugged. "I'll figure it out. But I can't risk giving away where I am. I'm sure Regina would find me immediately if I tried."
Snow sighed, and glanced at the full pack. "Well, if you can find a safe way to get a message to us, even if you're in no danger, please try. But I understand if you can't."
"Thank you." She embraced her mother, and Snow held her tightly. "Will you tell Father? And Leo?"
"Of course." Snow pulled back and smiled sadly. She reached up and stroked Emma's freshly dyed hair. "You just worry about Henry."
Well before dawn, while everyone except the night guard slept, Emma carefully snuck out of the manor. Her first destination: her father-in-law's estate.
I hope you enjoy the story so far! I'd love to know what you think. And please remember to check out swankkat's Tumblr (linked in my profile) to see all the amazing artwork!