Hello readers! This is the start of a new, hopefully fairly long, multi-chapter fic that I'm rather excited about! Mostly because I remember being a 13 year old little shit. But I was a capable little shit, and if someone as capable and shitty as I was at 13 could get things done then someone as awesome and underappreciated as Henry definitely deserves his own adventure. M rating is mostly for future language, violence, and themes. Any other warnings will be posted as the need arises at the start of each chapter.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine
As always, please Read and Review!
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
"Stronger stance Henry. You're trying to take the entire hit with your arms. Let your legs help." David took a step back to let his grandson make the adjustment before coming at him again with a wooden sword.
It was less than a month after the Snow Queen's defeat and Gold's exile from Storybrooke, and Henry had sought out his remaining grandfather for a sword-fighting lesson in the park. He hoped that something as physically demanding as a spar would take his mind off his growing anxiety, but so far it didn't seem to be helping.
When Emma had told her son what happened during her and Mary Margaret's adventure in the Enchanted Forest several years earlier he'd been beyond jealous. She'd gotten the total fairy tale hero experience; climbing a beanstalk to steal from a giant; fighting a pirate; saving a princess; meeting other fairytale characters; and just generally saving the day.
Henry wanted that too. Or at the very least, he wanted to feel like he contributed more to solving the crises that seemed to crop up around Storybrooke like clockwork.
"Two-hands on the hilt. I know it's not as heavy as a real sword but you gotta get used to the position," David noted. Henry threw his other hand up to join its partner, only half aware of what he was doing as he went through the motions. Swing, block, parry, swing, parry, over and over while his thoughts continued to race.
Henry supposed he had done his fair share in the heroics department around Storybrooke. Both his moms and all of his relatives had assured him that eating the sleeping curse-induced apple turnover that led to the first curse being broken was a heroic enough deed to last several lifetimes.
So why didn't he feel like he ever really contributed anything since then? If he let himself really think about it for too long it didn't even feel like he'd done much back then, either. He'd fallen asleep. It was his mom's kiss that had really broken the curse. Not him.
Right?
So Henry tried to prove himself a hero. He tried bringing Mary Margaret and Emma back from the Enchanted Forest (And failed), destroying magic in Storybrooke (Also failed), and then saving magic in Neverland (A failure of heinous consequences).
"Mind your surroundings lad!" Hook called out from where he sat on a nearby bench. Henry glanced down for a moment realizing he was about to fall over a tree root, and lifted his leg higher to avoid it, still fleeing an onslaught of strikes from David.
Killian had happened upon the pair on his way to the docks and decided to watch them; occasionally calling out bits of advice that either contradicted what David told Henry ("You might not always have both hands, lad. Best learn to handle yourself single-handed while you have options.") or just distracted Henry from the spar.
If only he could distract Henry from the thoughts that plagued him and ate at his conviction.
It definitely didn't help Henry's confidence any that for almost the entirety of the Zelena ordeal he'd been blissfully unaware of what was happening; still trapped in the false memories of New York and a world without magic or his large and loving family. He'd been lied to, had secrets kept from him, and been otherwise shoved off into a corner (and a hospital closet. Sharing a closet with Archie was not on his list of repeatable experiences.).
That was what bothered him most, being shoved aside and hidden away like something helpless.
"You're over thinking your moves Henry, clear your head." Henry went on the offensive, sidestepping a sapling tree and raining several sharp blows towards David's side. None the swings made contact but they put David on the defensive, forcing him backwards on the grass. Henry thought he heard Killian whoop in approval but was too engrossed in his thoughts to care.
The Snow Queen incident was supposed to be his chance to prove himself, to help save the day and show he didn't have to hide in a closet when trouble inevitably came knocking. But he didn't have much contact, if any at all, with the visitors from Arendelle so he felt useless there. He hadn't been able to pull Emma back from fearing her own magic and only got hurt in the process, and Operation Mongoose was barely going anywhere. Not to mention Regina's happy ending had gone and done the honorable thing by leaving Storybrooke forever with his wife and son.
"More focus, you're just throwing yourself around." Henry knew he'd lost all pretense of good form and was just blindly swinging the wooden sword in David's general direction, steering them towards the paved walkway closer to Hook's bench. He didn't want to hurt his grandpa so much as force his anger out through his strikes, hoping it would physically relieve some of his frustration.
Everyone saw him as a child. The townsfolk, his family, everyone always told him to run and hide when trouble came, or to go play with his toys when the adults wanted to talk about something serious that they didn't want him knowing.
Henry knew they all cared about him and had his best interest at heart but it was insulting. Damn it, he was thirteen! Not four! If they kept treating him like a child how would anyone ever trust him to make his own decisions or take care of himself?
What if he was never given the chance to prove himself? Not just as a hero or ally in a crisis, but to show that he was even growing up?
He could be trapped in an unwitting cocoon of overbearing parents and family for the rest of his life while the world passed him by and he never saw any of it.
"Whoa! Careful where you swing, Henry! That almost lopped off my head!" Henry's swings were chaotic and overzealous, with none of the careful technique and swordsmanship taught to him by his grandfather. They were raw and angry. It wasn't a spar anymore, it was target practice, and David was barely evading. David's shock at Henry's built up aggression and Hook's concerned "Henry?" couldn't pull him from his musings now, and Henry let his anger roll over him.
The more he thought about all that had happened since Mary Margaret first gave him the storybook during the first curse the more furious he became. He had come a long way from being a starry-eyed 10-year-old kid. He knew how to fight now, how to survive in the woods or at sea, even how to study and decipher magic. So why didn't anyone seem to trust him to help do any of those things?
"Slow down, lad!"
"Take it easy, it's not a real fight!"
Their words were the last trigger and Henry saw red. He heaved the wooden sword over his head to swing it down hard in what would have been a killing blow on any battlefield. David readied himself to block the blow but stepped back at the last moment, letting Henry's strike come down in a sharp arc in front of him.
"Shut up!" Henry cried out.
CRACK!
With a thunderous clap Henry's wooden sword smashed against the pavement, breaking in two and signaling the abrupt end of the once innocent spar.
The three stood motionless, the air thick between them and the crack of the shattered wood still echoing through the open park. Killian had risen from the bench at the sound of splintering wood but did not move closer, blue eyes shocked open and unblinking. David's face was just as stunned, his breathing still quick from the spar, and he looked at Henry with a little fear. They watched the boy warily, neither willing to move an inch for fear it set him off.
Henry's breath came fast and shallow in anger and fatigue, his heart racing and blood pounding in his ears. His hands trembled not only from the aftershock of the wood's impact on the ground, but also in anger.
"It's never a real fight!" Henry screamed, his brown eyes glued to the splintered wood littering the ground. "It's never a real fight or real training and it's never going to be my chance to prove myself because none of you take me seriously!"
"Henry-" "Lad-" Henry didn't want to hear any of what they had to say though because he already knew what they would tell him. It was the same thing he'd been told for three years now.
"No! I'm sick of being pushed aside when you all know I can help! I can do more than carry a book around or 'hold the fort' but no one will let me do anything else!"
"Henry, we just want you safe," David pleaded calmly. He dropped his own sword, kneeling on the pavement and holding his hands in front of him in a peaceful gesture, hoping it would calm Henry down. But the dam had broken and all of Henry's anger was rushing out, a river of frustration three years in the making.
"I don't need a babysitter to walk me back from school or tuck me into bed, and you can't just kick me out a room whenever you need to talk battle strategy. It's like none of you will trust me to think for myself!" The words tumbled out of his mouth, and with every confessed frustration a part of Henry felt a little lighter. His gaze moved between his grandfather and the pirate, the unlucky stand-ins for all his pent up anger. "I'm thirteen and I'm growing up! Why can't anyone accept that and start treating me like I can be responsible for myself?"
Henry let the words fill the space between them, let them echo through their heads and resonate for as long as his current lack of patience allowed. His eyes glared at the two, the brown depths silently accusing them and holding them accountable for everyone's thoughts and actions toward him the past three years.
Killian and David just stood there, unmoving and silent. Guilt and concern overshadowed their initial shock and both looked as though they wanted to speak, to reassure Henry with false promises of trust and true promises of their love for him. But there was nothing they could say to even try and brush aside what Henry had just revealed, and there was definitely nothing they could say to try and mend it either.
Nothing Henry wanted to hear right now, anyway.
He was too angry and he knew if either one said anything he'd just yell again.
Henry realized he needed to leave. He needed time alone with his thoughts so that David and Killian could be alone with his words.
He rushed by the pair and picked up his backpack from its place by the bench, dropping the shattered wood with a loud and heavy clatter onto the pavement, and walked away.
"Henry, wait! Come back!" David started to go after his grandson, but Killian wrapped an arm around him, holding him back.
"Let him go mate!" Killian struggled to restrain the prince, but managed to keep his hold.
"We can't just-"
"Let. Him. Go. He'll cool his head, and then we can all talk about it like grown ups, just the way he wants us to treat him." David finally stopped struggling and Killian felt sure enough to let go of him. The prince bristled as he shrugged off the pirate irritably, turning to face Killian so he could stare him down.
"You better have a damn good reason for stopping me, pirate. Otherwise I'm going after him."
The woods around Storybrooke were thick with trees and growing darker in the fading daylight. Henry didn't know how long he wandered or where he was going, letting his feet carry him wherever they wanted for however long they felt like, but he didn't want to stop to check the time or even to pull out his flashlight. The latter would have been more useful in that moment since his foot accidentally made contact with several hidden tree roots and holes, only fueling his anger and irritation.
He was still tingling with the aftereffects of his outburst. His fists clenched around the straps of his backpack, anchoring him to reality, while his mind drifted away as it replayed his earlier words. As guilty as he knew he would feel about his anger later, right now Henry didn't want to lose the high rushing through him, the exhilaration that came with seeing the fear and shock on David and Killian's faces. Knowing he surprised them and made them question what they knew about him was new thrill that he didn't want to give up yet.
It left them open to being proven wrong about just how capable Henry was at taking care of himself, a notion that had Henry's lips curling upwards in a self-assured sneer.
A growl of thunder filled the sky, interrupting the flow of his prideful thoughts, and Henry finally took note of the dark clouds making their way toward town.
Maybe hiding out in the woods wasn't the best place to try and be alone. But Henry needed to be alone right now to revel in what he'd finally done and to think about what he should do next. He hadn't meant for everything to come out like that, angry and temperamental like the child he was trying to prove he wasn't, but he was glad it was out. It needed to be said and Henry would do it again if he could.
Another low rumble from the sky had Henry thinking about his options for shelter. He didn't want to see any of his family right now. Seeing them would feel like surrendering, like he'd thrown away all the ground he had gained from his earlier outburst. On top of that, he didn't think he would make it to the town center by the time the rain started falling (He guessed it was going to rain, anyway. The sky had gotten too dark too fast to do anything but drop a torrent of water on the town at this point.).
His castle in the park was a definite no-go. There would be no protection against the weather and his family would know to find him there. It was the first place they would look.
He supposed he really should stay with a family friend for the night, like Granny or one of the dwarves. It would mean a call to his family letting them know he was safe and that he may or may not see them before lunch the next day, depending on how he was feeling, but Henry found he didn't want to see anyone right then. Not just his family, but their friends too. They would all ask questions he wasn't ready to answer yet, or worse, they would just think he was being childish by running away from home and from everyone that he needed to talk to about his frustration and anger.
So where could he go that would give him the temporary solitude he wanted and a roof over his head? Were there any barns nearby? Or maybe the horse stables? He didn't want to run away, per se, but he definitely wouldn't mind being a realm or two away from the town for a while.
Henry finally stopped walking and took a long look around to get his bearings. In the fading daylight he could see a paved road a short ways off, and in the distance beyond that…
A wave of relief swept through him as he recognized the towering building on the hill. It was the Sorcerer's abandoned mansion, the one with the blank storybooks and the door to Arendelle. It would be perfect. He would be far enough from his family that he had time to think and be alone, and there would be a roof over his head for the storm.
Henry reached the mansion in what was probably record time, mostly because he ran the last mile when the rain started. It would be dry and warm inside the mansion but he did not want to be drenched and shivering by the time he got there.
Breaking in was all too easy since the doors were unlocked and unguarded, which made no sense at all to Henry. Who left somewhere with such a treasure trove of stuff unguarded like that? There had to be a magical booby trap somewhere? Or the owner could have at least invested in a security camera?
On second thought, there probably was no security camera. They weren't exactly a common sight in Storybrooke after all.
The pounding rainfall outside made the idea of leaving the mansion less and less likely, and search as he might; there was nothing Henry could see that made him feel unsafe, or even unwelcome in the large estate. Every room had a warm light and a warmer air in it, as if the house was somehow alive or magically inclined to try and make Henry feel welcome. The idea that magic could have been involved in the mansion's odd warmth should have made Henry nervous, but there was no uneasy gut feeling or alarm bells in his head that made him want to turn tail and run from the place.
Maybe it was just a really friendly house with a really friendly and absent owner?
When he could find no obvious reason not to stay, Henry quickly moved through the rooms, eager to find one with a couch or a bed where he could sleep. The mansion was so large and there were so many rooms and interconnected hallways that Henry realized he was checking the same rooms several times, unless of course there was more than one ballroom and several exact replica bedrooms all bedecked in the same red and gold theme.
It was on what had to be his fourth re-entry into the hidden room with the blank storybooks that he found something weird: a doorway standing in the middle of the room that definitely was not there before.
Henry's thoughts instantly went to the Arendelle door from last month, but this doorway was different. The colors were wrong, and the patterns too. The Arendelle door was wintery, painted in cool blues, and it's flowers were something Elsa had claimed were native only to her kingdom. This door was painted with images of what had to be a forest in rich browns and greens, and inlaid with engravings of white flowers.
Henry instantly recognized the flowers from his storybook, or at least from the illustration borders. They were the snowbells surrounding the pages that followed his grandmother Snow White's story, the flowers she was named for. This was a doorway to Snow White's kingdom in the Enchanted Forest.
It was like a bolt of lightning shot through him in epiphany. This could be his chance, he realized. He sure as hell wasn't getting a chance to prove himself any time soon here in Storybrooke, but now he could finally go to the Enchanted Forest, could go on a quest or solve some small problem there, and his family would finally realize his worth in a crisis. After all, how often did a portal door just happen to show up in Storybrooke? If he didn't take the door now, he might never see it again, might have missed his shot forever.
He reached for the door, hand trembling in excitement. Maybe he would meet a knight who could show him a new fighting style? Or maybe there would be trolls to defeat or a princess to save? There might even-
Buzz Buzz! Buzz Buzz!
Henry was pulled from his daydream by the vibrating of his cell phone deep in his backpack. It had slipped his mind to get in touch with his family about where he would be spending the night. He hadn't been listening for his phone during his earlier trek either, so there were probably several messages and voicemails from everyone by now.
He dug the phone out from his bag, holding it loosely to look at the caller ID. It was Emma. Hook and David had probably told her what happened by now. Regina had probably been told too. And if they all knew then Mary Margaret definitely knew and so did the rest of the town.
Henry knew he was still angry from his earlier outburst, and that he was being rash and impulsive, but he also knew he couldn't let this chance slide. And if he answered the phone now it might mean the end of his conviction to walk through the door.
He dropped the still ringing phone to the ground, where it clattered noisily on the wooden floor. He wouldn't need it the Enchanted Forest, he reasoned. There probably wasn't cell reception anyway.
Backpack on and mind made up, Henry pushed the door open; his head high as he walked through to what he hoped would be the first step on his quest for adventure and fulfillment.