Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing associated with Once Upon a Time, Marvel, or Grimm's Fairy Tales. Only original characters and ideas are mine.
AN: Here's the sequel! I hope people enjoy it. Obviously, it's primarily a OUAT (Once Upon a Time) story. Later, it will be OUAT/Captain America, in that Drina's romantic interest will be based on (and actually named) Steve Rogers.
Also, this story is very Alternate Universe (or AU). I'm going to keep most of my details close to the TV series until the end of its third season, then make it all my own, ignoring the Frozen and Queens of Darkness plots. In this story, the events of the Oz/Wicked Witch will happen in The Enchanted Forest, and after that, head in a different direction. This way, the only conflict in the story is Drina's, and it'll keep things from being too complicated.
I also know that some people are probably waiting for me to do an Adena/Steve spin on the Age of Ultron film, but I think I'll hold off on that until I finish this story. Besides, memorizing movies and writing a story off of it is hard work! So, it's going to be a while before I write up another Avengers fic. And when I do, I might just deviate from the Marvel Phase Plans for their franchise, and go my own way with that, instead. Heck, I might even write a whole Avengers series of my own! But that's a long-shot.
Anyway, please enjoy the story, and please don't forget to review. Thanks!
Chapter 1: A Cursed Existence:
There should have been no reason to be sad. The view from my perch was beautiful, even glorious –forested mountains stood in the deepest shades of green, and distant peaks were topped with perfect white snow caps. If I had the ability to sigh in admiration, I would have.
Below, the village was dark, with only a few windows lit from within. It was rather a surprise, that there was anyone up at this time of night.
A chilled wind blew, but I didn't shiver; I was well-protected in my fine feathered coat. I didn't want to sleep –I couldn't.
Heaving myself forward, I plunged off the balcony, and flew off into the depths of night.
An hour later, I tucked my wings in and glided along the top of Moon Lake, near the homes of Aunt Christiana and Aunt Monica. My large wings gracefully halted my forward movements, so that I could gently glide atop the surface of the water.
The lake was chilly, by human standards, but to me, it was pleasantly cool. Beneath me, I saw fish swim, some occasionally coming up to investigate what had alit atop the water. The full moon above reflected bright light upon the calm, smooth surface of the lake. Hanging my head, I gazed at my reflection.
In the light of the moon, black eyes stared back at me. In any other face, they would be considered beautiful and deep, even soulful –to me, set as they were in the face of a swan, they were anything but.
Hanging my head, I slowly paddled to the lake's shore and made my way out of the water. Once my feet met dry, solid land, I froze and listened for any signs of danger. Even though Foxglove was still cut off from the rest of the world, we still had wild animals. Papa refused to let them be eliminated –he insisted that we keep a natural balance on the estate, so an annual hunt for wolves and other dangerous predators was held, if only to keep the populations down. The herders were unhappy at having to keep alerts for wild beasts, but it kept them from getting too relaxed with their charges.
When my ears heard only silence, I allowed myself to relax and make my way to the large nest that my aunts and their husbands had crafted for me.
Clearly, this wasn't my first visit to my aunts' homes. I had begun coming here not long after the Swan Curse had been placed on me.
My first few weeks at home, I'd spent trying to find a way to settle into a routine that I could feel comfortable doing. During the day, I tried to keep doing the things I enjoyed, but at night, things became more and more difficult.
At first, I simply tried going to bed, believing that the night would pass faster if I slept it away. But after trying it a few times, I realized that it only caused me to wake up earlier in the morning, before the sun rose, so that I was still in swan form and unable to do anything. My parents and grandmother were all always abed at those early hours, so there was no one to keep me company as I anxiously awaited the moment I would become a woman again.
Unbeknownst to my family, as soon as I realized that my nightly plans were not possible, I made a decision to change things, namely by taking a huge risk. One day, before sunset, I went upstairs to settle in for the night, and immediately dismissed the maids, so that I could be alone. When the door was closed, I hurried over to the large door-windows that led to my balcony and left them wide open.
Beyond those windows, a balcony went several feet out, and stretched to either side of the doors. Since I was on the third level, it wasn't too far down to the ground, but lucky for me, there was a rooftop right below my window. My safety net was the roof of the great ballroom, where we would have had all sorts of balls and parties, if my father had allowed it.
When I felt as ready as I could be, I waited for the sun to set. Once it had, I headed straight for the balcony and spread my wings wide, letting the evening wind blow around them. Almost out of instinct, I began to flap my wings, the powerful muscles, soft feathers, and light weight of my bones giving me momentary flight.
Up I went, hovering briefly over the balcony before panic set in, my wings folding in on themselves as I landed roughly on my feet. Luckily, I hadn't gone up more than a few inches, otherwise I might have seriously hurt myself.
When I collected my thoughts and my courage together, I tried again, this time going higher and a little further out –not away from the balcony, but just from the windows up to the railing. I made it without mishaps, and when I landed, I felt a part of myself crying out for me to keep going.
Inside, a small battle raged. My human instincts told me to stay where I was, safe on the ground, but I could feel my swan instincts longing for the sky. Even though it was dark, and a true swan's bedtime, my human brain said that there was enough light to see by, thanks to the light of the moon and the pale purple of The Barrier that protected us all.
Fortunately for me, I still had my human eyesight, which was better than a swan's. Doubly fortunate for me was that, with my human brains, I was able to fight down the urge to fly off and settle into a nest somewhere. It would have been very awkward, waking up beside some pond or lake the next morning, then having to somehow make my way back home.
That night, I gave into my human instincts and chose to remain grounded, at least for now. It would only be a matter of time before the urge to fly became too great.
Oddly enough, when I'd first been cursed, the idea of flight had never crossed my mind. I'd been so miserable about being cursed into another form, the thought of taking advantage of that new body hadn't occurred to me. But now that I knew that I could, eventually, learn to fly, the thought of soaring through the skies was thrilling. I might only be able to do it at night, but how glorious would it be to fly?
And so, every night, I secured my door, but did not dare to lock it -if I became injured during my experimental flights, I would need people to hear my cries and come help me. But once the Castle went quiet, I secretly began to practice using my wings.
It took numerous nights to build up my courage and my wing muscles, but finally, I felt good enough about my skills to actually try flying away from the safety of my balcony.
My first true flight was terrifying. I was frightened out of my wits as I flapped away from my open window, with nothing below me except a rooftop covered in slick tiles. Still, I swallowed my fear and kept flapping, my body moving forwards until I hovered twenty feet above the grand ballroom's rooftop.
Looking down, I felt my human side scream for me to go back, to land on the balcony and be safe. But the urge to keep flying was stronger, pressing me to keep going, until, without thinking about it, I was literally flying small circles around the rooftop below.
I do not know how long I spent flying, but the moment I felt my wings grow tired, I hurried back to my balcony, landing somewhat awkwardly on the hard stone. To me, taking off was far easier than landing, even though I'd done both an equal amount of times. There was something I did not like about landing, though I did not know what it was. Perhaps it was because I was returning to a confined space, a place that a swan would never go to.
In the end, I made it back to my room, tired and more than happy to settle into my newly crafted, makeshift nest before the fireplace. The nest mostly resembled a trundle bed: a huge wooden box with three raised sides, and a comfortable mattress within. Soft cushioning ran long the interior of the box, for added comfort and protection in case I rolled or moved around. Lightweight, soft blankets and small pillows lay all around the inside, for me to place wherever I liked when I slept. It was so big that I could easily wake up in it as either a human or a swan, without being cramped in an uncomfortable position.
Of course, my original bed had been removed in order to fit the 'nest' into the room, but that was alright. I didn't mind, since the 'nest' was actually far roomier and more comfortable than my old bed. Before my nightly flights, I'd been against changing anything in my room to accommodate my other form. But now, I was wiser and growing more comfortable with my new way of life, though I knew I'd never want to live this sort of life forever.
At least it gave me something to look forward to.
After winging around the ballroom rooftop for several nights, I began to grow bolder with my flight explorations. When the urge to fly further away from the castle stirred inside, I began to wing around the castle, using the ballroom as my main point of reference as I traveled above the castle. Guards occasionally spotted me, but since my father had decreed that no swan was ever to be harmed on Foxglove, the guards did not attempt to bring me down.
My flights also became longer, as the further I went away from Foxglove Castle, the more time it took to get back. I had to time everything just right, so that I could be somewhere safe when I grew tired, and that I made it back to my balcony well-before the sun rose, so that I could sleep. Flying was exhausting, after all, and like any man or beast, I needed sleep.
With all of that extra flying and practicing, my wings became much stronger, as did my endurance. All of that exercise carried over to my human body, too, to the point where I began losing weight and having more upper body strength. When Grandmama needed help carrying something, I was able to do so with no trouble.
Unfortunately, it was my new physique that made Grandmama suspicious about me.
Before my curse, I'd never been one for exercise –like any true scholar, I liked comfort and soft living, as well as sitting anywhere comfortable and losing myself in a book. I'd disliked hunting, and riding always left me sore and miserable, which was why I'd rarely done it, except for certain occasions. Dancing was fun, and that I was glad to do, but any other physical activities bored me.
But in my new form, I was happy to learn to fly and to see how far I could push myself. Besides, how many other humans could fly? The Fairies did, of course, but ordinary mortals rarely got such a chance. This was mine. It was also the only way I could escape the Castle and actually go other places without Papa having a squad of guards watching me like a hawk.
But Grandmama was too clever to not notice my new appearance, and she quickly guessed how it had all come about. Obviously, the next step she took was to barge in on me while I was in my swan form, trying to make my nightly escape out the window.
"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped, running to catch me.
Turning my head, I gave her a hard glare, one that I hoped conveyed the message of, 'Don't try to stop me,' as well as, 'What does it look like I'm doing?'
She glared right back at me as she tried to force me back inside. "Don't you glare at me, young lady!" she snapped, pointing towards the interior of the room. "I have every right to be terrified when I see my eldest grandchild trying to jump off a balcony!"
Rolling my eyes (or as much as I could in my new form), I didn't budge an inch, though Grandmama tried her hardest to try and urge me indoors. But I wasn't going to obey her, not this time. I wanted to stretch my wings, literally and figuratively, and she wasn't going to stop me. She was in no way strong enough to pick me up, and I had a pair of incredibly strong wings that could easily deliver a blow that could knock her over, if not unconscious.
"Drina, this is insane," she tried saying to me. "How can you possibly think that leaping from a balcony into midair is a good idea? You might catch a wing and tear it, causing you to fall to your death!"
The thought had crossed my mind, once or twice, but I always made it a point to be outside when I tried to take off, rather than in my room. Not that I could tell her that, of course, when I had no means of human speech.
After delivering a good sound lecture, Grandmama told me to allow her to find someplace more appropriate for what I wanted to do. I merely shoved her gently with my wing, to get her out of my way without harming her. As I'd hoped, she dodged me, and before she could react, I took off, successfully taking off for a short flight around the castle before returning to my balcony. It was close to being a new moon, so it was darker than usual, but thanks to the lights coming from the town, as well as my room, I made the journey successfully.
When she saw me land, Grandmama gave me a look that was part pride, part relief, and part anger. Once she'd collected her senses, she gave me another lecture, which I pretended to listen to as I preened my feathers (another act that was instinctual for me in my bird form). Thankfully, the lecture was short, and in the end, the anger drained out of my grandmother as she declared how proud she was of my determination and efforts to not be defeated by my curse.
"I know it would drive me mad, too, being cooped up half the time in my rooms," she confessed, coming over to run her fingers over my feathers. "No matter how comfortable, a cage is still a cage."
I nodded my agreement, and stretched my neck so that I could run my beak through her silvery-blonde hair. She smiled and placed a hand on my neck. "My dearest girl," she murmured affectionately. "You've been through so much, and still you try to remain strong. Those are the sorts of traits that make heroes and legends. If you do not end up one of them, you will at least have a happy ending. I will do everything possible to make sure of that."
Smiling, she settled down to wait for me to return from my flight. If I could have smiled back, I would have.
Papa never knew that I flew off at night, not at first.
Just like when I'd started sneaking out to parties, Grandmama and I agreed to keep it quiet, so that I could have more chances at freedom and enjoying myself. She even helped keep the guards quiet, when they began remarking about the large bird that flew around the castle at night.
"They aren't complaining, dear," she told me one evening, before the sun set. "They've noticed for a while, but since you never caused any damage and only came out after dark, they knew it had to be you. Word has spread all over the estate about your curse, so they know that the shape has to be you."
"But why haven't they said anything to Papa about it?" I asked as the sun began to set.
Grandmama smiled and began to stand back, giving me room to change. "I believe they feel sympathy for you. They undoubtedly know that you need freedom, and so they said nothing to your father."
And so, for months, I was able to explore the skies above Foxglove. As my wings and endurance continued to grow in strength, I dared to fly further and further away from the castle, my senses pulling me towards areas close to water, where swans naturally dwelled.
The largest body of water on the estate just happened to be the summer house where my Aunts Christiana and Monica lived, on Moon Lake.
Several days' journey by foot, and a couple days by horse, the lake was only an hour or so by air. The lake wasn't very large, but its waters were pure, and it was filled with fish, frogs, and other little creatures that a swan might eat when hungry –though, thankfully, I had not developed the urge to eat any of those things, raw or otherwise, in my alternate form.
The first time I landed there, it was late in the evening, at a time when most people would be heading to bed, or already asleep. Aunt Monica tended to go to sleep early, but Aunt Christiana and her daughters kept odd hours, and often stayed up half the night doing artwork of some kind, refusing to go to bed until they were content with whatever it was they were working on.
Thus, it was no wonder that it was Aunt Christiana who discovered me, the first time I alighted on the lake's surface. She had been there to paint in the moonlight, and so she watched me with fascination as I proceeded to paddle around on the cool water. It had been my first landing on water, and I was rather proud that I had managed it without dunking and drowning myself.
In the light of the moon, the calm surface of the lake had a silvery sheen that made my black feathers stand out. Aunt Christiana had been thrilled at my entrance, and in an effort to not attract attention, she began painting me without my knowledge.
I don't know how long I swam about on the water, but after a while, I began heading for the shore closest to the Big House, where Aunt Christiana lived. The beach there was wide, with soft pebbly sand that was easy on the feet, and a line of lanterns that were always lit at night. Beyond the lanterns was a large wooden patio, for entertaining and enjoying the breezes off the water. Leading up from the porch were a dozen steps, going to the marble entryway to the house. A handful of windows scattered across the three levels were lit, where a few people still moved about.
My aunt sat on the wooden patio, painting frantically as I headed for land. I spotted her there and froze, wondering what to do next. She spotted my hesitation and immediately dropped her paints and brushes.
"Oh, Drina, honey, it's alright," she said, waving at me to come towards her. "I know it's you. It's no secret that the most beautiful black swan in the world is my niece! Come over here, and let me give you something to eat; you must be starved from your flight here and swimming about!"
The thought of food was an appealing one, so I headed up to the patio and up the wide steps to join her. There, my aunt proceeded to pull apart bits of soft bread rolls, cheese, and some freshly cooked fish, probably caught from the lake this morning. Onto a large plate the food went, and then it was down to the ground, so that I could reach it.
Even though I was starved, I made sure to eat slowly and carefully. The last thing I needed was to choke on a bit of food too big for me!
When I finished, my aunt retrieved the empty plate and placed it on the table beside her. There was a long, silent moment as she stared at me, her head tilting from side-to-side as she studied my bird form. I didn't mind, though –I'd seen her do it before, when she studied an object or person she wanted to paint.
"You know, you've always been a pretty girl, Drina, but you are absolutely stunning as a swan," she said, reaching for her paints and brushes again. "Is it alright if I paint you? I'm sure the girls will want to as well, but I will leave that up to you."
Nodding, I settled down onto the wood of the patio, my feathers providing a bit of a cushion between me and the hard ground. After a while, I tucked my head under my wing and dozed, only coming awake as my aunt gently shook me awake.
"You need to leave now, sweetie, if you want to make it home by dawn," she said, her tone soft but urgent. "I wouldn't mind seeing you transform, but your father will worry if you aren't at the Castle in the morning."
I honked my gratitude, and stretched out my neck, so that I could run my beak through her fair hair. She giggled and caressed my feathers. "Have a good flight, dear. Come back as often as you like; I'll have someone keep an eye out for you, so that you're comfortable and fed when you're here."
With that, I hurriedly winged home, arriving on my balcony only a few moments before dawn's rays shone above the horizon. Back in my human form, I sighed and stretched, my arms aching slightly as I made my way to my nest-type bed. I had just flopped down atop the mattress when a voice spoke up behind me.
"I see you've had an eventful night."
Rolling over and nearly giving myself a concussion on the side of the bed, I spotted my father in the gray shadows of a corner of the room. "You've been sneaking out, Drina!" he said angrily. "What are you thinking? And flying, too! It's too dangerous for you to fly at night!"
"Papa, stop!" I yelled, just as angry as he was. "You have no idea what I'm going through, and you never will! Flying is the only thing that makes me feel alive and free. And aside from tying me down and gagging me like a criminal, there is no way that you can stop me from doing it. Now get out of my room so that I can get some rest!"
I even threw a pillow at him, emphasizing my point. "And if you want someone to yell at, go see Grandmother. She knows what I've been doing." She would also set him straight, but I didn't dare say that out loud.
Furious at my show of attitude towards him, Papa left, locking the door to my room behind him. He also ordered the waiting maids to bring me food and drink, but not to let me out until he said so. It was a silly thing for him to do on his part, considering I had a key to my room -but then, he probably was too angry to think about that.
That afternoon, I was awake and reading quietly in my room with a tray of tea and cakes beside me, when the door opened to admit my father. He was calmer, but still angry (probably from his talk with Grandmama).
"Drina," he said, taking a breath to calm himself, "While I don't agree with the actions you're taking, I know there's no real way of preventing you from doing so. Caging you entirely would not be good for you in either form, so I will allow you to go off on your nightly flights. However, you are not to go so far from the Castle that you cannot return before dawn. Your Aunt Christiana's home is a good choice, and she will provide you food and shelter, if you're unable to return home that before dawn."
I didn't have the heart to tell him that I'd already done that very thing. I would do that another time. Right then, I kissed my father on the cheek and relished my victory.
From that day on, I was a frequent visitor to Aunt Christiana's.
I sometimes spent days there, visiting with her and her daughters, Eleanor and Marguerite, who were very close to my age. Aunt Monica was there, too, though her son, Hunter, and young daughter, Sophia, were not. She'd sent them off to visit their cousins: Hunter to my Aunt Elizabeth with her boys, and Sophia to Aunt Marianna with her daughters.
"They need to be with children their own ages," Aunt Monica explained to me once. "Moon Lake is an isolated place, and the town holds little entertainment for them. They're better off where they are, and they visit so often, we don't really get to miss one another."
I called those times away my 'holidays,' where I could be away from Papa's overprotective eye and the duties of being his daughter. Grandmama encouraged my flights there, and since I was able to carry news far quicker than the usual messenger, it only made her happier with the arrangement.
So, for two years, I was relatively happy. There were, of course, times when I wished I were human at night, so that I could attend the balls or parties Eleanor and Marguerite did when I visited.
Winter was the hardest, with shorter days and longer nights, leaving me in my swan form longer. Sometimes, it was almost too much to bear, but when I remembered that summer meant longer days, shorter nights, and wonderful things to eat, it cheered me a little.
The times when cheerful thoughts didn't work, I took to the skies and flew around Foxglove, trying to forget my troubles. Life wasn't grand, but it was still good –and I could live with that.
AN: Review?
