Hello, all, and welcome to my new OUAT story, Song of the Savior. Originally, I wasn't sure I wanted to go anywhere with this, but it could be fun, so we'll see what happens I guess. Basically, my story is sort of a retelling/what-if scenario of OUAT, starting in season 2, episode 2 of the show. It features pretty much all the characters we already know, as well as an OC I created. I know some people aren't a fan of OCs, which is fine. But please don't come here just to hate if you are one of those people. Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome, but we don't need any negativity here. There's enough of that in the world already, lol.

Anyway, the first chapter may be a bit slow, since it's mainly from Emma's point of view and it only really adds a couple of original elements to the plot. But it should pick up as it goes... probably.

Hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think so far if you have the time!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to Once Upon a Time, or the elements I take from its plot.

Song of the Savior

Chapter 1: Straight Out of a Fairytale

The ropes binding Emma's hands burned and cut at her wrists. She gritted her teeth to hide the pain in her stubborn pride as three women on horses dragged her and Mary Margaret along a desolate seashore that seemed unending to her eyes. The woman pulling their ropes had a hard expression and thin dark hair. She wore a suit of armor, unlike the other dark-haired woman to her left who simply wore what appeared to be a thick brown jacket with white pants and boots. The frailer woman on the right had pale skin that seemed to be lacking in sun exposure, and a dress that looked like it came straight out of a fairytale.

Even as she examined them, it hadn't entirely sunken into her blonde head just yet that she had literally just fallen into a fairytale realm. She saw her son poisoned by magic, she slayed a dragon, watched Regina almost get her soul sucked out by some kind of nightmare from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and now she was actually in the place it all began. The Enchanted Forest. She could see it. And even now, she wasn't sure she believed it.

"This—seriously sucks," she hissed, jerking her hands against the ropes as she stumbled along in the dirt.

Mary Margaret heard her low comment and cast her a side glance and a smile in spite of the circumstances. "Yeah, well—welcome home, sweetie."

Emma huffed, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. "Thanks a lot."

"Shut up back there," the woman pulling them called, yanking them forward a little too roughly and nearly causing Emma to slip off her feet. In response, she mumbled a few bitter curse words, but nothing loud enough for any of them to hear.

The walking continued for what seemed like hours to Emma, until a new piece of land appeared off in the distance. It was a small continent, almost like an island, except that it was connected to the mainland by a stretch of beach leading out to it. The three women continued on, meaning that it must have been their destination.

"What is this place?" Mary Margaret called breathlessly, her legs shaking from the strain on her body.

Emma didn't expect to receive so much respect as an answer, but the armed woman turned her head half way toward them. "Our home," she said simply, pulling them further along.

With a quick glance at her companion, who she now knew to be her biological mother, Emma murmured, "How the hell—are there still people living here? I thought—"

"Honestly—" Mary Margaret replied, "Your guess—is as good as mine."

After that, Emma didn't ask any more questions or even dare to make more comments until they reached a small encampment, filled with rundown huts and people wearing tired faces, hard at work. Emma was relieved to finally have a chance to catch her breath, even though she and Mary Margaret were not released from their binds. Their captors walked behind them as people around them dropped what they were doing to gasp and stare.

Emma frowned. "It's like they're refugees," she said quietly.

"We're survivors," the armed woman retorted as she patted down her horse. No sooner had she finished her final syllable than Mary Margaret turned around to knee the frail woman in the abdomen, giving them a chance to escape.

"Emma, run!" she cried, and they made a break for it.

Emma, on the other hand, made it only a few feet before the woman in the brown jacket grabbed her. It took her by surprise, but she could tell almost immediately that she surpassed her attacker in physical strength. She kicked the woman from underneath, knocking her right off her feet, but with her hands tied Emma's balance was off-kilter and when the attacker caught her arm, they both toppled over. In that same instant she heard a cracking noise, which distracted her briefly. She cried out Mary Margaret's name as she saw her lying unconscious a few yards away, which gave her attacker enough time to push her down on her back. The woman breathed heavily from the struggle as she held a knife to Emma's throat, but a spark of amusement danced in her green eyes.

"You're strong," she said softly, "But not quite strong enough."

"Take them to the pit!" Emma heard someone shout. "Willow, step off!" And as the green-eyed girl, who they called Willow, pulled away and she was dragged to her feet, she let her captors do as they pleased, for she didn't have the will to fight any longer.

They brought her and the passed out Mary Margaret into a dimly lit cave-like prison. It smelled like dust and dirt and something else, but it wasn't exactly pleasant.

She stumbled as they pushed her roughly inside, and tossed Mary Margaret in like a sack of potatoes, despite her feeble protests. "Hey, come on," she breathed, kneeling down to shake Mary Margaret. "Wake up. Hey, can you hear me?" She was so afraid that her own hands trembled as she pleaded with her companion to wake—as she contemplated that she was now a prisoner in a strange land with no way home that she knew. In her life she'd gone through a lot of crap, but this, she wasn't sure she could handle.

It was an unfamiliar voice from nearby that brought Emma out of her frenzy. "Do you need help?"

She glanced up in surprise, zeroing in on a shadowy figure currently occupying the cave with her. "Who are you?" she asked without thinking.

"A friend," the figure said, stepping out of the dark and revealing a disheveled, reddish haired older woman wearing rags. A hint of a smile appeared on her lips in greeting. "My name's Cora."

Emma hesitated, standing up to face the stranger in her presence. Usually any time someone introduced themselves as, "a friend" they actually meant the exact opposite. "Uh—hi," she said. Then, feeling the need to return the courtesy of an introduction, she added, "I'm Emma."

"Emma," Cora repeated softly. "What a lovely name."

Emma stiffened. Something about that sounded oddly familiar.

"What happened here?" Cora asked, not seeming to notice Emma's unease as she knelt down to touch Mary Margaret's forehead. Her voice was so soft and gentle—calm. Perhaps too calm.

"I—I think they hit her in the head or something," Emma said. "She's not waking up."

"She'll be all right. I don't think it's too serious—as she seems to be breathing normally."

"Are you sure?"

Cora turned her head and smiled, pulling herself to her feet. "Don't worry. She'll be fine."

Emma wasn't sure whether or not it was okay to simply take this woman's word for it, but she supposed there wasn't a choice in the matter. Instead, she distracted herself by looking around. There was an opening above them, which allowed some light to seep through. Of course, it didn't seem that route held much hope for escape. "What is this place?" she asked. "Where are we?"

"It's a little island our captors like to think of as their haven."

Emma glanced at Cora. "Haven? From what?"

"The world's dangerous," Cora said solemnly. "Or what's left of it, anyway."

"Well, they can't keep us down here. We didn't do anything."

Cora shrugged. "Neither did I."

Emma was finding this woman rather difficult to read, and she didn't like it. "Then why are you here?"

This time, however, Cora did seem to hesitate. "I'm here because of something my daughter did. The curse that ravaged this land years ago? She cast it."

Up until this point, Emma didn't think there was much else that could possibly surprise her. She thought wrong. "Regina. You're Regina's mother?" Well, if she as on high alert before, she definitely had a reason to be worried now.

"Yes," Cora admitted, "But you've nothing to fear from me. The apple fell very far from the tree, I assure you."

She said it almost as if it were a joke. An innocent joke gone terribly, terribly wrong. But despite Cora's claims, Emma didn't feel safe with this woman. In fact, although the Cora she saw here appeared to be the exact polar opposite of her out-spoken, overly dramatic daughter Regina, Emma had the suspicion that there was a gigantic storm brewing inside those glistening eyes.

Cora smiled. "You're from over there, aren't you?" she guessed. "How'd you get back?"

"Emma."

She nearly jumped when she heard her name, only to realize a second later that it was Mary Margaret, who, despite coming to consciousness only seconds ago, was now wide-eyed and wary.

"Oh, Snow," Cora said with a sigh. "You're awake. I'm so relieved."

Emma didn't even get a chance to be relieved. Before she could get a word out, Mary Margaret grabbed her by the arms a regarded her with fearful eyes. "As bad as you think Regina is," she whispered, "This woman is worse."

"Oh, Snow," Cora repeated, causing Mary Margaret to turn around and shield Emma with her arm. "Sweet Snow. Believe me. Whatever she told you isn't true. I just want to help you."

Okay, so maybe Cora was lying through her teeth and couldn't be trusted. But Emma wasn't exactly in the mood, nor did she feel she was in the position, to be choosy. "Let's hear her out."

"Emma."

Realizing that Mary Margaret was not going to budge easily, Emma took a breath and offered, "Okay. Right now we are at the bottom of a hole with no other options. And Henry is back in Storybrooke with Regina." In Emma's mind, getting back to her son was more important than anything at the moment. And if she had to take her chances with someone like Cora to make it happen, it was better than sitting down here to rot.

"Who's Henry?" Cora asked, still playing the innocent role.

"My son," Emma explained. "I—kind of share him with Regina. It's complicated."

Mary Margaret whirled around and grabbed her again, which was really starting to get on Emma's nerves. "Don't talk to her!"

Before Emma had the chance to let her frustration spit out something unpleasant, someone yelled something down at them from above. A rope descended toward them. "Our leader requests an audience!" a guard called.

And so Mary Margaret and Emma were removed from the quiet, stuffy hole and brought back out into the light. A couple guards escorted them through the tiny village, while Emma trudged along in silence, still irritated at Mary Margaret.

"Why can't you just listen to me?" Mary Margaret finally asked.

"Why couldn't you have trusted me?" Emma shot back. "I was just trying to find a way to get us home. I could've handled her."

Who do you think you are? My mother?

Oh, wait…

Mary Margaret glared at her. "Cora? Don't be so sure! I've lived here, Emma. I know this world, and its dangers."

"Wait here," a guard ordered before leaving them and disappearing into one of the small buildings, which was guarded more heavily than the rest.

Emma folded her arms asked, "Is that why you came through the portal? 'Cause you thought I was helpless here?"

Mary Margaret looked at here incredulously and shook her head. "No," she breathed. "I came through to be with you."

As she processed Mary Margaret's words, Emma felt a twinge of guilt that she asked at all. And as much as her instincts told her to push it away, she felt just a little bit of happiness as well, as slowly came to realize that she had a mother. A mother who wanted to be with her. It didn't take away the pain of the last 28 years, but it was a start.

A big-boned, dark-skinned man in armor emerged from the guarded structure. While Emma at first expected this to be an interrogation, she had different thoughts when she saw Mary Margaret's face light up. "Lancelot?" she gasped, as the two quickened their paces and ran into each other's arms like they were best pals.

When they pulled away, laughing, the man grasped Mary Margaret's hands. "If I'd known you were the prisoners Mulan brought back, I wouldn't have locked you away. Please forgive me."

"Of course," Mary Margaret said softly.

Meanwhile, Emma couldn't believe this guy was Lancelot. Like, the Lancelot? King Arthur and the Round Table Lancelot? Gimme a break.

"Lancelot? Really?"

Mary Margaret grinned, patting Lancelot's shoulder. "He's an old friend. We can trust him."

Emma hesitated, but then pressed her lips into a thin line and stepped forward. "Right."

"Lancelot, this is my daughter, Emma," Mary Margaret said, putting a hand on Emma's arm and pulling her closer.

"Hi," Emma said, holding up a hand and trying not to be awkward.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Emma," Lancelot replied, holding out a hand which Emma shook. "I knew your mother before you were born. She always had a spark in her eye. I can see you have one as well. And a strong grip, too. Excellent."

Emma gave him a closed-lipped smile. "Yeah—thanks."

Lancelot smiled. "My apologies. You must be a bit bewildered by all this."

"Just a little. Not—a big deal, really."

Mary Margaret said, "Don't worry. We'll get to the bottom of all this."

"Of course," Lancelot said with a nod. "But first—the two of you must be famished. Why don't we get you something to eat? Get your strength up?"

"That sounds fantastic," Mary Margaret said. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble," he replied.

A few minutes later Mary Margaret and Emma were sitting down at a table outside, waiting for their first meal in over a day. Lancelot appeared after a short time and dropped on the table a plate of some kind of meat Emma had never seen before.

"What the hell is that?" she asked, not caring at this point for her manners.

"That is chimera," Lancelot said. "An acquired taste, but it's all our hunting party could bring back. Part lion, part serpent, part goat."

Emma jabbed a piece of the strange meat with a big fork. "Like turducken?"

But Mary Margaret was eager to get to the point. "I don't understand. We were told this land didn't even exist anymore. How did you all escape the curse?"

"It's a mystery," Lancelot said. "The curse struck, and when the smoke cleared, most of us had been torn from this land. But some of us here, in this particular region, were left behind. We don't know how and we don't know why. Finding this safe haven wasn't easy. Took some spilled blood. But worry not. You're safe here."

Mary Margaret shook her head regretfully. "We can't stay. My husband is back there. Emma's son—my grandson. We have to get back to them. Can you help us find a portal?"

"Leaving is unwise," Lancelot warned. "The Enchanted Forest is not as you remember it. The ogres have returned."

Emma raised her eyebrows. "Ogres? As in Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum?"

Mary Margaret placed a hand on hers. "Those would be giants."

Emma shut her mouth again, feeling like a total idiot.

"Ogres are far worse," Lancelot said, "And that's why we live here, on this island, where it's safe. Please, Snow… stay here. There are no portals left."

Mary Margaret hesitated slightly, but then leaned forward. "I might know of one."

"You do?" Emma chimed in.

Lancelot asked, "Where?"

Mary Margaret started to speak at first, but then shook her head. "Cora's near. I don't feel comfortable voicing my plans. She's powerful."

"Not anymore," Lancelot said. "The curse stripped her of her powers. But given her reputation, we've kept her locked up as a precaution."

"Nevertheless," Mary Margaret said, "I'm not taking any chances. Trust me. I may have a way. Let us go."

Lancelot seemed to consider briefly, but then he nodded. "I'll allow it. But on one condition. Take my bravest warrior with you. Allow Mulan to defend you." Then he beckoned over the armed woman, Mulan, who had dragged them behind her horse no more than an hour ago. Emma wasn't too fond of having to be defended by anyone, let alone someone who'd already pissed her off enough for one day.

"We can defend ourselves," Emma said.

But Mary Margaret dismissed her insistence. "Deal," she snapped, causing Emma to turn and glare at her. "Thank you, Lancelot," she finished, "For always looking out for me."

Realizing it was pointless to try to argue, Emma just rolled her eyes and moved on for now. Making a fuss over small fry wasn't going to get them home any sooner. She stayed quiet for most of their meal, up until the point Mulan brought them to suit up for their journey. By this point Emma was completely exhausted and wasn't even sure she had the energy left to start off on another trip today, but she didn't dare admit it.

Emma once again felt unsure how to act when Mulan opened up a trunk filled with a variety of weapons she had no idea how to use properly. Swords, bows and arrows… God, she was not cut out for this Middle Ages crap.

"Choose wisely," Mulan said as Emma tentatively pulled out a knife and stuck it in her boot. "We must be vigilant if we hope to survive the journey."

"Where's my gun?" Emma asked. "I want it back."

Mulan nodded. Then, with a gesture of her hand, she beckoned a familiar green-eyed woman in their direction. She'd been conversing with some other man in uniform, but the instant she saw Mulan asking for her attention, she said something to him quickly and then made her way over. "You rang?" Willow said, stopping close at Mulan's side.

"Sorry, this won't take long," Mulan told her. "Emma would like you to return her—um—"

"My gun," Emma repeated.

Willow nodded in understanding. "Oh, this?" She then pulled the small weapon out of her jacket and held it out to Emma. "It shouldn't be damaged."

"What is it?" Mulan asked. "Magic?"

Emma smirked humorlessly and took the gun. "Depends on who's pulling the trigger."

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," Willow said, holding out her hand. "Call me Willow."

In return, Emma offered a dry smile and shook her hand. "Well, I'd say we're already pretty well acquainted considering you tackled me and nearly cut my throat."

Willow smiled, and for the first time Emma noticed that she was actually quite beautiful, in a way that was almost impish and fairy-like. "It was nothing personal, I hope you know. Mercy and me don't exactly go hand in hand."

"We understand," Mary Margaret said as she pulled a sword and a bow out of the trunk. "You were just doing your job."

"Are the two of you ready for this?" Willow asked. Then, glancing at Mulan, "Can you look after them on your own?"

"We'll manage," Mulan replied. "So long as the two of you do exactly as I say."

"I think we're okay." Emma couldn't resist. "I just killed a dragon this week."

Mulan, however, didn't look particularly impressed. What, were dragons not considered a big deal in this land? Emma was liking this place less and less every moment. Then, Mulan stepped forward and glared at her. "Have you ever seen an ogre?"

"Pretty sure I've date a few."

As expected, Mulan didn't care for the joke, either. Not even Willow or Mary Margaret granted her a chuckle. "Legend has it that when they kill you, the last thing you see is yourself dying in the reflection in their eyes."

A few seconds of silence passed, as even Emma wasn't sure how to respond to such a statement. She still didn't see why none of these people believed she could handle herself. No thanks to her parents she'd been handling herself since she was a kid. Sure, she was in unfamiliar territory here, but that didn't mean she wasn't adaptable. I mean, she was adaptable, right?

After those few dreadful seconds, it was Willow who decided to speak first.

"Well, if you're worried about ogres, why don't you take this?" The woman reached into her jacket and pulled out a tiny black whistle. Emma was at first reluctant to take it when it was presented to her. Not because she had suspicions about its nature, but because she was sick of other people trying to help her out.

"What's that?"

"Willow's ogre whistle. It repels them if they're nearby." Mulan replied before Willow had the chance to explain, her eyes wide and intense. Then, turning to her, Mulan said, "We don't need it. We'll be just fine."

"You will need it," Willow insisted. "There are ogres ravaging the land out there. You will need all the protection you can get."

"Are you sure?" Mulan asked.

"Of course." Willow held the whistle further out toward Emma, who finally gave in and took it. "I probably won't have use for it here. I'm glad to help you in any way I can. Consider it my official apology for being a little rough on you earlier." She smiled sweetly, as if it was no big deal. Emma didn't think Willow would have killed her earlier, but still—these people were brutal. She was definitely going to have to watch her back out here.

"Gee, thanks," Emma muttered, sticking the whistle in her pocket after briefly inspecting it. To her, it just looked like an everyday piece of junk. But she was learning quickly that the world wasn't always what it appeared to be.

Mulan nodded. "I'll make sure to get it back to you. It'll be great help out there. I appreciate it." Then, motioning to Emma and Mary Margaret, she said, "Let's walk. It'll be dark soon."

Slinging her arrows over her back as Mulan started away, Mary Margaret smiled. "Thank you, Willow."

"No problem at all," Willow said. "I wish you all the best of luck. And—Emma? I do hope you and your mother find your way home."

Emma paused in mid-step as she was turning in direction her companions were headed. She didn't remember any of them telling Willow any details of their mission. Lancelot agreed it should be kept a secret. So how did she know about it? Perhaps she simply overheard one of their conversations?

Hesitantly, Emma made a quick farewell gesture toward Willow. "Thanks," she murmured. "I'll take care of your whistle." After that, she picked herself up from her slump and quickened her pace so she could catch up to Mary Margaret. "She was—interesting. You know her?"

"Willow?" Mary Margaret asked. "No, I have no idea who she is. And actually—I didn't even know there were any ogre whistles left in existence. I heard they used to be made long ago for soldiers and hunters, but you need a certain kind of magic for them to work."

Emma sighed. "Right… of course. What kind of magic?"

"Siren magic," she replied simply. "But there aren't many of them around anymore, either. Lucky us, though, right? That should help protect us if we run into any ogres. Hopefully we won't."

"Yeah, well Mulan seems confident we'll meet one or two."

Mary Margaret shook her head. "You shouldn't let her rattle you. I won't let anything happen to us. Just stick to the plan."

"What is the plan?" Emma asked. "You haven't told me anything. What's going on?"

Mary Margaret leaned closer and lowered her tone. "The wardrobe."

Emma kept her voice at the same quiet level, despite hardly being able to contain her surprise. "The wardrobe. The wardrobe? The wardrobe that sent little baby me to Maine? You think that can get us back to Storybrooke?"

"I don't know," Mary Margaret replied. "First we have to see if it survived the curse. Then we'll worry about making it work."

"Where is it?"

With a smile, Mary Margaret turned toward her. "My place. You wanna see where you're from, Emma? That's right! We're going home."

Yeah, so that's chapter 1. I had fun filling in some extra conversation and some of what I thought the characters would have said between scenes. But the only BIG difference in this chapter is Willow's presence. Yes, she's my OC, and yes, she will continue to be developed. Her presence will cause changes to the story in both the past and the present timelines. And yes, she is in fact based on a fairytale. Sort of. Maybe not a well-known fairytale - but you'll find out soon enough.

Thanks for reading!