Ursula was gone.
It would be easier, perhaps, if something tragic had happened. Villains didn't get happy endings, and there was a reason the two of them had so often been denied theirs. How many times had they been torn apart? Short of some miracle with the author, Cruella had hardly expected to find their Happily Ever After. But this was different. This time, Ursula had betrayed them.
More specifically, she had betrayed Cruella. Because what did either of them care what became of Rumple or the others? It might be selfish, but they never claimed to be paragons of virtue. They were cruel, they were greedy, and they were just as likely to stab their allies in the back as they were to lend a helping hand. They were villains. But Cruella had thought that what she and Ursula had was the exception. She had hoped that their relationship was more than just a villains' alliance with the added bonus of sex. Clearly, she had been wrong.
But whatever had led darling Ursula to choose to throw away what they had for a pretty singing voice and a reunion with the daddy she once wanted nothing to do with, it didn't matter. She had chosen wrong, and now it was too late. But what should Cruella have expected? After all, villains didn't get happy endings.
Looking out at the sea from the Storybrooke docks, Cruella vowed to find the author and force him to rewrite their story. She would have her happy ending; she would have everything. The author was her only chance.
Sitting on the rocks and looking out at the sea, Ursula wondered if she had made the right choice. It had seemed right at the time, leaving everything behind for a fresh start with her father. But now, thinking of what – and more specifically, who – she had left behind, she wasn't so sure.
In the distance, a ship passed by. She watched it with longing, irrationally hoping to see a glimpse of black-and-white hair and a fur coat. But of course, Cruella wasn't on board, and even if she was, she wouldn't want to see her traitorous ex.
In the Land Without Magic, Ursula had once seen a nauseatingly sentimental message written in sharpie on the wall of a bathroom stall. Some kind of crap about looking up at the night sky and knowing that the people you care for are seeing the same stars. But that was a lie. These stars formed the familiar constellations of Ursula's childhood, not the ones she had grown accustomed to back home. The stars could never lead her back to the woman she left behind. The only thing that could do that was the ocean.
Forced to flee Storybrooke with nothing but the clothes on her back, Cruella glared over her shoulder and slammed down on the gas pedal, sending the car swerving down the road, away from town. It occurred to her that this was the cruelest fate she could have been dealt, leaving the only place in this world where magic existed, and therefore by far the easiest place to create a portal. But given the choice, she would still choose to save her own life.
Not that any hypothetical reunion mattered. Ursula had made her decision, and Cruella wasn't one to dwell on lost … well, not lost love, but whatever it was they had shared. She found herself a wealthy businessman for a husband and moved into his mansion by the sea, telling herself that this life of luxury was her happy ending.
But as she stood on the balcony, looking out at the rolling waves, she felt a hollow ache in her chest that no amount of furs and diamonds could soothe.
How was it possible to feel trapped in a place as vast and beautiful as the ocean?
Time passed. Days, weeks, months. It all blurred together for Ursula. She tried to convince herself that she was happy – after all, how could she not be? She had the happy ending she had spent so long searching for. If her song didn't make her happy, then what was the point?
And if she dreamed of a woman's voice calling her "darling", she wouldn't admit it to anyone. Not even herself. She had already burned that bridge, and there was no point in dwelling on it.
A month into the marriage, Cruella's husband hit her for the first time, leaving the skin on her cheek raw and stinging. She glowered at him with eyes like a rabid dog, grabbed a kitchen knife, and held it to his throat.
"If you ever lay a hand on me again, I will kill you," she hissed in his ear. "Is that understood?"
He gasped out a "yes", wondering what kind of terrifying woman he had married. If he had known the truth, he would never have believed it.
Two months later, Cruella dressed in black furs and cried crocodile tears over her husband's body, sobbing that her love for him would never die. As they lowered his coffin into the earth, she walked away with a triumphant smile on her face. No one could say she hadn't warned him.
It was a full year before Ursula admitted to herself that she wasn't happy and why. But once she did, there was really no reason to stay.
"I'm sorry, father," she said. "But what I thought was my happy ending – it's not. I made a mistake, and I just hope I'm not too late to fix it."
"You want to go back to the other realm," he said, a look of resigned disappointment on his face.
"No. Not really."
"What?"
"I do want to go back, but it's not Storybrooke I'm looking for," said Ursula. "It's not a place at all. It's a person."
"What are you saying?"
Ursula braced herself as she finally said it aloud: "I'm in love with a human."
King Poseidon was taken aback.
"Ursula, no," he said, grabbing her arm. "You know what humans are like now. Whoever it is you think you love, you can't trust him. You'll only end up getting hurt."
"Her," Ursula corrected him, prying his hand loose with a tentacle and shoving him away. "And I'm not a child. I can make my own decisions. I'm leaving."
He swam after her urgently.
"Please … at least take some time to consider …"
She turned to face him, her hair fanning out in the water around her.
"Don't you see? I've already considered. This is my happy ending."
"Then I suppose I have no choice," he said. She expected to find her tentacles transformed into a fish tail or her voice stolen again, but he backed away saying: "I don't want to make the same mistakes I made before. If this is truly what will make you happy, then I can only wish you the best of luck."
Cruella never thought she would be the type to ever want a pet. Animals, to her, were to be controlled for her purposes or made into attractive fur coats. She couldn't control them out here, of course, but new furs were always welcome.
That is, until the day a stray Dalmatian puppy somehow managed to wiggle its way through the gap in the fence. That would need to be fixed immediately, she thought as she stood over the scrawny little spotted creature.
"Now don't think I'm going to take pity on you," she said as the puppy looked up at her with adorable sad eyes. "I am a villain, after all. I have a reputation to keep up."
The dog just tilted its head and sniffed at her high-heeled boots.
"You have very beautiful fur," she murmured, bending down to scratch the puppy behind his ears. "I'd love a coat made out of that."
If he understood, he didn't show it. Cruella felt a strange sort of affection in spite of herself. Of course, if anyone asked, she would never admit that a pair of trusting eyes could make her go soft.
"I suppose you don't have enough fur for that," she said, standing again. "Go on. Get out of here before I change my mind and round up a hundred other little puppies."
The dog just looked at her and wagged his tail.
"Don't think I won't do it, you little mutt."
But as she walked back towards the house, the dog followed after her. By the end of the week, she had taken him in and named him Spot, and there was no more talk of Dalmatian-fur coats.
When Ursula stepped out onto the beach in Storybrooke, she wasn't quite sure what kind of welcome she would receive. Her heart raced with excitement and dread. A cynical voice in the back of her head whispered that maybe this was all for nothing. It had been a year since she had last seen Cruella, and she had no way of knowing what had become of her. A thousand scenarios played in her mind. Finding the other woman on the beach waiting for her and running straight into her arms. Finding her a prisoner of the heroes and storming in to save her. Harsh rejection from the lover she had betrayed. Learning that the worst had happened and strangling the life out of anyone who had dared to harm her.
When she barged into the Sheriff's station and demanded to know where Cruella was, Emma Swan looked back at her with startled eyes and Ursula's heart sank. Fighting back tears and forcing her face into a mask of aggression, she wrapped a tentacle around the blonde sheriff's throat and demanded: "Where is she? What have you done with her?"
"Wha – she's not – she …"
"She's still alive?" Ursula dropped her tentacle and let Emma breathe.
"She got away," Emma said, gasping for air. "Left town not long after you did. I don't know where she is now."
But that was all Ursula needed to know. Cruella was out there somewhere, and that meant they still had a chance. She headed for the town line with confidence, the only thought in her mind to find her happy ending.
An ocean of gin could do nothing to drown Cruella's sorrows. Not when Ursula's voice haunted her, asleep or awake, drunk or sober. For a split second she had been happy to hear that voice, lying on the floor of the cabin, preparing to flee but hesitating almost a moment too long to listen. Now it was just a reminder that even Ursula had gotten what Cruella had always been denied. A happy ending. And more importantly, that it wasn't her.
The sea called to her, and she set out on her late husband's yacht. The weatherman had said it was going to storm, but since when had Cruella cared about danger? She would happily park her car on the railroad tracks and accuse whoever saved them of having gone soft. What was life without a little risk?
As the rain poured down, Ursula knocked on the front door of the mansion and smiled at the timid housekeeper who greeted her. From inside, a dog was barking, and Ursula wondered for a moment if she had the wrong house. Cruella had never been the type to keep pets.
"I'm here to see Cruella Bernard," she said, uncomfortably using her ex's new married name. "We're … old friends. Is she in?"
The woman shook her head nervously.
"She went out sailing hours ago. I'm not sure when she'll be back, but if you want to wait for her …"
Ursula looked out at the sea in worry. The waves crashed violently against the shore, and thunder echoed in the distance. Ursula felt worry stirring in her gut. She knew, with the certainty only someone whose home was the ocean could have, that this was not a time to be out on the water.
"I'll come back later," she said to the housekeeper, turning back toward the ocean with steely determination. She hadn't come this far just to lose her happy ending to the world she was supposed to be Queen of.
Standing on the beach as the winds began to howl and the rain poured down, Ursula looked out to see a tiny speck of a boat in the distance, tossed to and fro in the ever-more-violent waves. She could only hope that it was Cruella. Who else would be out on the sea at a time like this?
There was no magic in this land. But Ursula's voice was not magic in the vein of potions or magic spells. It was a part of her, an integral part of her being that simply crossing a spray-painted line on the road could not erase. She felt the lack of magic around her with every fiber of her being, smothering her and trying to turn what she had into just another pretty voice. But what she could manage would have to be enough. Her voice rang out over the squalling winds and crashing waves, like a lighthouse to guide her lover home.
Bad judgment and gin. That was the only thing Cruella had to blame this on, she thought as she clung to the side of the yacht, which was currently being tossed around like a little toy boat in the storm. Her waterlogged fur coat was like a weight, and she tore it off desperately. She clutched at the wheel, trying to steer the ship back toward shore, but through the pouring rain she couldn't even tell which way to go. As lightning flashed in the distance, lighting up the dreary sky, Cruella felt as if it was striking her heart. She realized with a shock that this might be it. She was going to die out here in this storm. On the ocean – how fitting, she thought bitterly. If she was crying, she would never admit it. It was only the rain on her face.
All of a sudden, like sunlight breaking through a cloud, a clear, beautiful voice cut through the chaos. How she could hear a song over the noise of the storm, Cruella had no idea, but it was as if the wind, the thunder, and the rain were simply musical instruments to accompany the most enchanting singing voice she had ever heard. It almost reminded her of …
"Ursula!?" she cried out. For a moment, she was back on the floor of the cabin, hearing the other woman's song for the first time. The storm around her went on almost without her, as if she was suspended in a moment of calm and nostalgia. But a violent wave rocked the yacht and knocked her off her feet, bringing her back to reality. Still, the voice sang on.
Grabbing the wheel, she turned the vessel around, sailing toward the voice that called to her through the storm. She could hardly see through all the rain, but she trusted implicitly that the song would lead her to safety. And if it didn't – well, she would be no worse off than before. It was her only chance.
Finally, up ahead, she caught sight of the shoreline, barely visible through the pouring rain: a sandy beach, deserted but for one familiar woman, who stood in the storm, hair swirling around her head in the wind, dripping with rainwater, belting out her song.
Cruella stared at her, so overwhelmed that she didn't notice the enormous wave coming until it had tipped the yacht and swept her overboard.
Ursula rushed forward as Cruella disappeared beneath the crashing waves. She ran into the ocean, water up to her knees, up to her waist, kicking off and swimming when she got in deep enough. She plunged below, eyes wide open in spite of the salty sting, searching for any sign of Cruella. Anyone would be a fool to go into the water in the middle of a storm like this, but Ursula wasn't just anyone. No one could swim like a creature of the ocean. Grabbing Cruella and wrapping her arms around her like tentacles, Ursula dragged her back toward the surface. Toward the shore. There was no way Cruella was going to drown, not if the Queen of the Sea had anything to say about it.
Cruella woke on the beach, coughing up seawater. The sand was wet, but the rain had stopped, and the sky above was beginning to clear. She looked down at her beautiful dress, ruined. Her favorite fur coat was lost somewhere in the ocean along with the yacht, no more than a shipwreck now. Damn.
Ursula, perched on a nearby boulder, slipped down onto the sand sat beside her. Cruella looked up at the other woman with bleary eyes that stung with salt water.
"Why the hell are you here?" she demanded.
"I came back to find you," Urusla replied, taking Cruella's hand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you."
"Why did you?" It wasn't a barb, just a question.
"I thought I had found my happy ending," said Ursula. "But I was wrong."
Cruella nodded, pulling herself up into a sitting position.
"I could have died, you know," she said. They both knew she didn't just mean that day on the sea. "You sold us out, and you didn't even care what that would mean. Just as long as you got your happy ending …"
"I did care!" Ursula protested. "I just … I'm sorry, Cruella. I really am. But please … I came all this way to find you. You are my happy ending, I know that now. Please give me a second chance."
Cruella smiled.
"Of course, darling."
Sitting on the beach in her ruined dress, wrapped up in Ursula's arms, a strange thought crossed Cruella's mind. She had always thought her happy ending meant having everything, but maybe she was wrong. Her dress, her coat, the yacht, those things could easily be replaced. But now she had a chance at something she thought she had lost forever. Maybe that was what happy endings were about: not having everything, but having what mattered most.
She pulled Ursula close and kissed her fiercely on the mouth, a kiss that tasted of salt water and new beginnings.