A/N: A prompted tale of woe, this takes place after 5x06, with shades of 5x02 thrown in.

Please be forewarned, it does feature a major character death. Again, sorry.

"Don't join the dagger and Excalibur," Merlin says quietly as he moves around behind her. His dark eyes blaze with a needy intensity as he urges her to step away from the two blades. "If you do this, you will lose something that means a great deal to you; you will shatter your family."

"I know what I'm doing," Emma insists, well aware that she's speaking to a ghost. Well aware of the fact that she's peaking to the past; Merlin is long gone now, buried beneath layers of slick rain-soaked dirt somewhere back in the forests the surround the broken kingdom of Camelot.

She tells herself that she'd had no choice, but to use all of her magic to rip his life force out of his body – he had tried to stop her as she'd turned from Emma Swan into the Dark One. He'd told her that what she was becoming was something that she couldn't control, pleaded with her to understand that despite the hopes within her heart and mind, one can't get actually get to Good by going through Evil. He'd told her her plan would fail, but refused to explain why to her.

So she'd silenced him - the anger had consumed her whole and then there'd been blood on her hands; she tries to not think about that moment, but knows that she will never really forget it. Because just because he's dead doesn't mean he'd left her; all of her ghosts refuse to ever leave her.

She wonders if she and Regina share that in common, and then quickly shoves the thought of the older woman away – what she has to do right now is frightening and thinking about her family directly – thinking about those she has hurt – makes her reconsider; she can't do that right now.

Because in spite of Merlin's urgent warnings to her, she knows – knows that this is the right way to end all of this. If she can join the dagger and the sword, then perhaps she can wipe out all of this darkness (within herself) and she can save everyone that she loves. She can protect them all.

"Emma," Merlin says again. "You don't remember – at least not consciously - but you changed your reality into something other than what it is. If you do this, you will break that and –"

"Stop," she snaps. "This is…this is the right thing to do. You told me - everyone tells me - that I have a choice to make and I'm making it. I'm making the choice to make this right. I'll join these and then I'll chase all of the Darkness away. Even if that means I have to die." She smiles sadly, her heart aching as she thinks of all the damage that she's done. "That will be my price."

"Perhaps so, Emma, but it will not you who will pay that price in the end. And there are some choices…some choice that shouldn't be made. This is one. You can fight the Darkness if you choose to - if you try to destroy it, you will only end up destroying everything that you love."

"Ignore him," Rumple says suddenly, his skin glittering. "He's just trying to make you afraid. Join the blades, Swan, and then we can talk about what you really want to do." He giggles and twirls his hand and she thinks that no matter what happens, at least she'll soon be free of him.

"Emma, that's the Darkness speaking to you. I'm the other side," Merlin insists. If she didn't know better, she'd think that the two opposing forces in her mind were actually glaring at each other; that's madness, though and so she chooses to disregard and ignore both of them.

"Both of you speak in riddles; I'm done with riddles. I can save everyone. I can save myself and make everything okay again," Emma insists. Because that's what this has all been about. Giving into the darkness in order to eventually bring everyone back to the light. This is all about the ends justifying the means and yes, there will be amends to be made, but eventually, everyone will understand and eventually Henry will forgive her and realize she'd had a reason for it all.

"You can't," Merlin tells her, his voice even more frantic now and she's not terribly surprised when he suddenly morphs and becomes a vision of herself as she once was - blonde and in a red jacket, desperation and need blazing in her own familiar green eyes. "Everything that you think you know…it's not what actually is. You need to not do this. Let this…dream stay what it is."

"This isn't a dream, it's a nightmare," she retorts, reaching for the two weapons. "And it's over."

"Yes," the other her says, so very sad, "It is."

Regina is practically leaning over his shoulder as he picks out his weekly comic books; years ago, she'd done this from afar – from across the store - sneaking a look at the ones he'd chosen and making occasional comments that had been ill-received. Now, she's able to stand beside him and provide teasing suggestions ("too violent", "Mom, it's Deadpool", "I know, but –", "He's hilarious, you should read this; you'd like it"). Never mind the fact that his height has made it so that she's having this conversation with him with her chin rested atop his shoulder. Her little boy is rapidly growing into a man. Time is flowing away from her finally and she doesn't know if she's happy or sad about that. Seeing her son like this is amazing, but oh, it's going far too fast.

"Good?" he finally asks, showing her his stack.

"Good," she agrees, thankful for the normality of this; with all that's going on with Emma these days, it's hard to find calm and really, she should probably be back at the mansion or the loft digging through books and looking for ways to stop the darkness inside of Emma, but they had both needed this. There's too much heartbreak when they think about the fallen Savior and for just a few minutes, mother and son had needed to think about an actually fictional world.

"On me," she tells him, reaching over to run her fingers through his hair; there will come a time (too soon) when he won't let her do this, but it's not yet.

"Mom," he says. "I can pay for my own comics." Because he still helps Belle out a couple days a week, and he rarely wants for much so his bank account is healthy and strong. That's irrelevant to her, though; all that actually matters is that her son is smiling right now and it feels so good.

"Nonsense," she replies, reaches across her body towards her purse and –

(there's a sudden strange feeling then, like vertigo, like something resetting itself; she sways on her feet and has to reach out for the wall, her eyes crossing for a moment and turning grayish)

"Mom, are you bleeding?" Henry asks suddenly, his eyes wide, his voice high and panicked.

She looks down, but doesn't reply, her eyes on the splash of bright red across her fingers.

(the world continues to sway, but the gray is slipping backwards, presenting her with sounds and colors and there is music playing somewhere and people dancing, but how does that make sense)

She thinks that there's something strangely familiar about the pain she feels, something that feels like she's been here several times before. Once in that weird flipped world, but also -

(his name is Percival and he hates her so deeply, so very deeply; he holds his sword out towards her and tells her that she will finally pay, and he will finally have his bloody vengeance - finally)

"Mom?"

"I don't –"

Her hands trembling, she dips one in towards the hem of her jacket, near the bottom around her left hip and that's when she feels the gaping hole there and the sticky wetness on the tips of her fingers. Fear sliding through her, she looks up at Henry, the color draining from her face.

(she jerks backwards, but she can't move away fast enough - Robin can't get there quickly enough and Hook grabs Emma's hand and stops her from throwing magic and oh…oh…)

"Henry," she whispers and then she's falling, her hand flailing to grab at him.

He's not strong enough yet to catch her before she falls, but the moment she's down, he's reaching for her, yanking his own coat and his scarf off and pressing them against the wound he sees there. It's large and though his first thought is that this is the re-occurrence of the mortal wound from the alternate world that Isaac had sent them to, the location is all wrong; that had been a splice across her chest – this looks like someone had run her through with a sword.

She coughs and tries to say his name.

Red stains her lips.

He looks up and he screams Emma's name.

Emma feels the shifting of the world - of reality - and there's something strange drilling at her mind, pushing against it. Something that wasn't there before, something that feels so wrong.

Before she can grab on it, though, she hears his voice.

"Emma Swan, Emma Swan, Emma Swan."

Frightened and in desperate need of her.

She closes her eyes and then she's reappearing in the comic book store, gray smoke dissipating around her as she tries to figure out why she is where she is; moments ago, she'd been standing next to the rejoined sword, grinning at the brilliant light that it had been emanating. Knowing that the next step would be to use the blade to rip the darkness out of herself even it meant her own death. Believing it a price worth paying if it means protecting her family from the Darkness.

She'd need help from Regina and from Rumple, of course, and they likely wouldn't provide it to her willingly considering everything that she's put both of them through to get to this point, but that's why she'd set Zelena up as her secondary plan. But first, she plans to appeal to Regina -

All of these thoughts flee her mind, though, when she sees Henry crouched above Regina, his hands stained red. All of these ideas about how to defeat the Darkness flees when she realizes that the price to be paid for the return to the Light won't be her death…but rather…Regina's.

She doesn't need help from Rumple or Zelena – there's no more magic to be done here.

Just a price to be paid.

Hers. Not hers. All of theirs.

She inhales sharply.

Ignorant to all the thoughts in her mind, Henry looks up at her and says, "She's dying again."

And that's when Emma remembers.

That's when the truth comes back to her.

Not that she'd needed it to – understanding had already collapsed in on her seconds earlier.

She sees Regina's eyes on hers, then – somehow aware if only for a moment.

And knows that Regina is remembering as well.

The knights' sharp blade enters the Queens's belly smoothly – too smoothly. Skin and muscle and bone shouldn't cut away this easily, but they do, and then the tip is bursting out the back of her even as she staggers and falls, her mouth opening up in a violent gasped cry of agony. She looks down at her hands, sees the bright red there and wonders how anything can be so bright right now. She tries to say a name, tries to call for help, but the words catch hard.

There's sound everywhere – screaming and a thrust of murderous violence as David finishes Percival - but then she's lying flat on the hard smooth ground, her consciousness fading in and out as she rapidly becomes almost completely unaware of anything beyond the many hands that are now on her. Hands that feel soft and comforting, not ones that intend to do her further harm.

"Regina." That's Robin.

"Mom!" Henry.

"Regina, hold on." Snow.

"We need to stop the bleeding." David.

"Is that even possible?" The pirate.

"It has to be. Regina, stay with me." Emma. "Stay with me; I've got you, okay?"

Her eyes open and she's looking up and into Emma's turbulent eyes, the white of her dress already red. She tries to smile at her, tries to reassure her that all of this is okay. It's all okay.

But it's not and she hurts so very much.

"No, you don't," Emma tells her. "You promised me you'd save me. You can't save me if you're dead; you owe me, okay? Which means you have to hang on. Hang on and bring me home."

"I'm so sorry," she says remorsefully, and then coughs out blood. "Emma, I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. There's nothing to be sorry for."

"Magic," Robin suggests desperately. "You can –"

"This wound can't be healed with magic," Emma replies, her fingers clutching at Regina's, her hold strong. And Regina's eyes are still on her. Like they're the only two in the room. "Not like that, anyway," she murmurs. Like she's having a thought, madness streaking through her mind.

"I didn't think it would end like this," Regina admits to her.

"It's not going to. You're not going out like this."

"Emma," Henry says. "Please."

"It's okay, Kid; I can fix this."

"But you said –" Hook starts, alarmed. "Swan, you can't." He grabs her arm, tries to yank her hands away from Regina's torso, fear in his blue eyes. "You can't let the darkness in."

"I can't let her die," she snaps back. She pushes him away violently, forcefully. "I can fix this."

Hook grabs at her again. "If you use Dark Magic –" He's pushed away once more.

"I give us a chance," she insists. Her eyes meet Regina's, a hand settling lightly on her cheek, wet blood beneath her finger-tips and against smooth skin. "It's a beautiful dream, right."

Regina tries to shake her head. "He's right; Emma, no. Don't. It's not worth it. I'm not -"

"You are."

And then the world shifts. The walls change. and bend. The bloody wound just above her hip appears to knit and mend and then she's standing again. Robin falls. But the wound in him is fake and only needs a bit of surface paint. But that's not enough. No one can remember this - not even her - or it all falls apart and then they're all back here again. This is resurfacing reality, plastering over the damage that still exists. But if they don't know…then they don't know.

And it's okay.

It's okay and Regina is alive.

Everyone is okay; her family is whole and they all…they all have a chance.

She leans down and presses her forehead to Regina's, tears flowing down; reality fades away.

The dream begins. Not nearly as beautiful as any of them would have liked it to be – Emma twists and breaks - and there's so much within it which hurts, but it's a dream and it holds together until the moment when Excalibur and the Dark One's dagger become one again.

Until the moment when the Light and the Dark go to war and a price has to be paid.

Henry looks over at Emma, horror on his face as reality crashes down on them.

It takes him a moment, but then again, he's pleading "Don't let her die."

She looks at him with wide eyes, suddenly understanding everything all at once, suddenly recognizing how this has to go for any of this to mean anything.

In order for Good to win, Regina has to lose. Not because she's Evil, but…because.

Because Dark Magic had extended her and now has to be willfully extinguished.

Which means she has to lose.

They all have to lose.

"I can't stop this," Emma tells him dully, gagging on her own devastating words.

"Yes, you can. Re-do what you did. Put it back up. Make her whole again."

"I can't; if I do, the Darkness wins and destroys all of us – it…we only get on one option this time," she tells him, knowing now that such altering magic is purely evil. Knowing that changing reality to suit your own purposes can only ever be seen as something corrupt and wrong.

She'd put the sword and the dagger together with the intent of driving the Darkness out and in doing so had driven apart the illusion that she had created to save Regina's life (she thinks that that illusion had been a lot like the Sands of Avalon, only flowing from her hands instead of from dust and she wonders what other beautiful dreams are breaking apart right now, the light shining bitterly through all the cracks). She knows now that the only way for the Light to win is if…is if there is no illusion left and there's only the bitterness of death and sacrifice left behind.

She feels Regina's hand clutch at hers, fingers grabbing, nails scrapping at her skin.

"Emma," she says, and sounds so much calmer than she has any right to be.

"I'm here."

"You have to win, Emma. You. You have to fight and you have to win. Finish this and do what you have to do - what you were meant to do. Savior." The words come out rough and cracked, split apart into half syllables by the main she's in and the way her throat keeps closing up.

But Emma hears them all the same.

She is the Savior even if she doesn't want to be; this is what she was created to do.

Henry had once said that her role would be to defeat Evil and so it is.

It just so happens that the Evil being defeated no longer exists; when Henry had said those words to her – spoken of a final battle – there'd been so much anger and hurt and Regina had been locked away behind fear. Now she's a woman full of love and passion and…it doesn't matter.

Because the deck was always stacked against them; the end was always written for them.

"You can't let her die!" Henry screams suddenly.

"If I don't, then we drive everything that's good out of this world!"

"If you let her die, then you're the one who is driving everything that's good out. You!"

"Henry, no," Regina coughs, a bubble of blood and spittle bursting against her lips. "It's okay, my little prince. It's okay; she has to let me go." Her words break and crack into little shards.

"Save her!" he screams, not the young hero right now, but just a frightened son.

"I can't. I can't." Her head drops down.

She can, and then all there will be…is evil. No hope, no light, just the Darkness unrestrained.

She knows and Regina knows.

"You can save her," Rumple says from behind her shoulder.

But her eyes are still on Regina's, on the enormous faith she sees within them.

But Henry, he isn't interested in any of that; he doesn't care about the war within her, only about Regina. "You can. You just won't." He shoves at her, pushes her away from his mom.

He wonders if a True Love kiss will make this all better…and tries it, lips to forehead, kissing her and inhaling and hoping. But nothing is ever that easy, and this wound is mortal and real.

She says his name again, and so does Emma – both of them pleading, though for different things.

"I love you," Regina says, blinking slowly now. "Be brave. Be good."

It's not enough. He doesn't want to be to be good or just or any of that. He just wants her. He just wants his mom. He presses his body against hers, her blood all over his clothes; somewhere in the distance there's a siren screaming towards them, but it's far too late for that now.

It's been far too late for that for six weeks now.

"Henry," Emma says, tears streaking down her face, reaching for him.

He shoves her away and she falls back to her haunches and sits there next to him numb, as she watches everything shatter, watches it all break apart in the name of the all-mighty Light.

She thinks that it's not worth it.

Knows that it's not, and knows that Regina will disagree with her – the irony of that harsh.

Because the Savior and she's the Dark One and Regina is the Evil Queen and -

Regina's eyes find hers suddenly, and there's a strange almost happy smile there and it's like Regina knows everything going on inside of Emma's mind. She mouths, "I was good?"

Emma nods slowly, can't see past the blurring of the tears. "Yes," she answers. "You…are."

Because even as she hates herself and thinks that she always will, she realizes that she's never loved Regina more – never been more proud of her than she is in this very moment.

This woman who had once been the great and terrible Evil Queen, and who now refuses to plead for her life because she knows what it will mean – who now refuses to demand to be saved because she knows what it will bring onto all of them – the inescapable Darkness it will allow into all of their souls. She stares at Emma and smiles again, like she's seeing something beautiful, like she's seeing something inside of Emma that Emma can't even begin to imagine.

Her eyes slide away, over to Henry's and she whispers again that she loves him.

He whispers again that she can't leave him.

There's a catastrophic burst of light a few moments later, crushing past all of them just as Regina's eyes are closing. Just as her chest stops moving and the bright red blood that flows out of her begins to turn dark and cold and stale. Just as Rumple vanishes into thin air behind her.

The Darkness expelled.

She feels it flow from her, feels the Dark One cut out of her.

She lost a friend and gained a ghost today; her heart shattering, her faith destroyed.

Her son sobbing, the sun high up in the sky still shining like it doesn't know.

Like it doesn't realize that it continues to burn because something else no longer does.

And all Emma can do is reach for Henry.

He struggles.

He'll never forgive her.

She'll never forgive herself.

They hold on tight to each other, bright light mixing with the tears on both of their cheeks.

-Fin