Epilogue:
She could smell the earth drawing near, her eyes searched for the light at the end of the dark, damp tunnel. She felt the sides of the rock wall on her right hand following the path that lay before her. Short of breath, she struggled to get out. She had slight stings all over her body and blood dripped down her limbs.
"What is that noise?" She thought to herself, as she got closer to the end.
The sounds that echoed through the walls rung in her ears like a stampede of cattle. They grew louder, as she limped her way out. Her heart beat with a rush of excitement and she quickened her pace to the blinding light. Her eyes stung from the sun's rays that finally hit her fair skin, warming her body. Her golden curls shined despite the blood that dripped down her tips. She was surrounded by flesh and echoing voices, a familiar face walked closer to her. It was a man, tall, a bit round in the middle, with short gray hair and beard. But his eyes were dark and filled with distain that couldn't be hidden by his façade.
"Emma." He called to her with his signature fake smile. "You did well. Not as well as you would if you were a grandson, but you will have to do."
His voice sent chills down the blonde's spine. She looked away from his gaze, and noticed her hands were stained with blood. Her dirty rags, covered in rips that were caused by a blade of some sort. She bowed her head to her grandfather, King Leopold and he lifted up her right arm.
"Emma Swan! Our new champion!" He yelled to his people. Their stench filled the air and caused her stomach to feel sick. Leopold squeezed tighter on a wound upon her arm. She couldn't make a reaction to the pain or else the King would put her in another training camp for a week, like the last time she showed any form of weakness. He grinned, knowing exactly what he did. He threw her arm down.
"Get cleaned up, you smell of filth." He said as he turned his back on her and left. Regardless of the fact that he walked away, Emma bowed and two servants escorted her to the castle.
She walked through the halls of that prison. The coldness she felts within those stonewalls was a familiarity of what she believed her life would forever be like. Cold, dark and contained. She was in a never-ending abyss of hatred and savagery. Or so she believed. The servants guided her to a large wooden door; the heat radiated from it and the feeling was grand. As the door opened, the smell of roses filled her nose, it was a calming sent. The peasants bowed to Emma, none dared to make eye contact. They avoided her gaze like the plague, only because they truly believed she would bring them harm. That she would take their life away because of their curiosity. She didn't blame them really. For whom could ever want to risk their life while near a woman who was trained to kill.
Emma removed the bloodstained rags, and realized how damaged her skin truly was.
"Weak… I am weak." She told herself over and over in her head. The marks on her skin proved as such. The scars that she held as a reminder of her failed attempts at protecting herself.
"Leave me." She spoke coldly. The slaves didn't hesitate to leave the room. It was a big room; there was a fireplace to the far left and a bathtub in front of her. There was steam that rose into the air, she stepped into the water and was instantly affected by the scorching heat. She sat down trying to wash away the memories of the deaths she caused. The death of the souls that didn't understand what it was like to be her. A person who only had one purpose; to kill. She never knew the love of a father, or the love of a mother. For who could ever love, such a beast.