Once upon a time, there was an enchanted forest filled all the classic characters we know. Or think we know. One day they found themselves trapped in a place where all their happy endings were stolen. Our world. This is how it happened…
ONCE UPON A TWIST
She rode as if her life depended on it, and in a lot of ways, it did.
Emma had been riding bareback for years and years and she silently thanked her mother for teaching her, if for nothing else than for this very moment. The recent-princess was not going to need a saddle for this; a saddle would have only hindered her.
No, tonight she was the wind itself.
Her long blonde hair, bound tightly in a neat plait down her back, whipped back and forth, knocking free from its bindings, but Emma did not notice. She rode as if her life depended on it. She rode as if she was the wind itself. She did not have time to fix her hair or pretty herself. Not even if she was on her way to find the fairest of them all.
Regina had been missing for a little over a week now, and Emma was determined to find her. She'd recently received word from the dwarves about Regina's supposed whereabouts in the middle of the enchanted forest, and so that was where she was headed. Emma wondered why they hadn't told her sooner. But she had no reason not to trust the dwarves. When Queen Snow had held her captive in the dungeons and Regina had come to rescue her, the dwarves had risked their lives to help her. That went a long way with Emma. She owed them a huge debt, and certainly that debt could begin to be repaid with trust.
Dwarves could be trusted, right? Emma knew not the ways of this magical land. Even though she was starting to get used to the pomp and regalia that she was forced to accept, Emma was still nothing but a simple shepherdess, with no experience of magic or royalty or mystical creatures such as dwarves. She supposed it was only right to give everyone and everything and every creature the benefit of the doubt. Kindness and faith were two virtues with which Emma's mother hoped to imbue her, and to a large degree she had been successful. Emma trusted easily and loved quickly. She did not think anyone by nature could be evil, or could lie. Until she'd met Queen Snow, anyway.
The Queen was terrifying. Emma wasn't afraid to admit it. She had absolutely no idea what the Queen was capable of, and it was that constant fear of not knowing what to expect that got under Emma's skin. She was so frightened that, once again, Snow had gotten ahead of her. She was frightened that it would be too late for she and Regina this time.
A thousand anxieties and doubts raced through Emma's head, but she tried to dismiss them and focus on her present task as she neared the clearing in the forest––where she saw, distantly, the large group of dwarves assembled around a beautiful glass coffin.
A beautiful glass coffin.
Oh, no.
"Regina!" Emma shouted, not waiting for her ivory mare to stop before sliding off and running to the shroud. "Regina…"
She shot accusatory stares at the dwarves, who only looked at their feet and miserably shook their heads in response.
"The Queen did this to her," the one called Grumpy finally spoke up, his hat in his hands. "We didn't want to tell you until we were sure that…"
"No," Emma whispered, frantically. She'd been too late. She'd failed. She'd lost her one true love. The earth shuddered beneath her feet and she felt herself drop to her knees.
"We tried everything…" Doc mumbled, looking upon Princess Emma with pity. "But she's gone."
Silence. No one dared break it, for everyone there had once lost someone they loved too and understood the need for absolute quiet in moments like these. The dwarves raised their heads and looked at Emma with wide, watery eyes, wondering what she would do, wondering if there was anything left to do.
After taking a few steadying breaths, Emma blinked away a stray tear and pleaded, "At least let me say goodbye."
Grumpy and Doc pulled back the lid of the coffin, and Emma summoned what was left of her strength to reach a standing position. She looked upon the serene face of her Regina with a quiet desperation before she leaned forward and kissed her, softly, almost afraid that just one little kiss would shatter the fragile image beneath her.
And that is exactly what it did.
A great unnatural light rippled throughout the forest as soon as their lips met, and Emma felt her pulse begin to race after she felt a painful shock pierce her heart. The breeze picked up, suddenly, and all the dwarves scrambled to retrieve their hats while Emma remained still and watched, just watched, frozen with hope.
Regina's body shifted as Emma pulled away; within an instant her eyes flickered open and she sputtered, breath by breath, back to life. She started up and grabbed Emma's hand. "Charming," she gasped raggedly, "You found me."
Charming. The nickname that would haunt her forever, it seemed. Normally it rather bothered and offended Emma, but those petty insecurities now seemed worlds away and she no longer gave them credence.
Emma grinned in spite of herself and let out a choked laugh. "I will always find you," she said, before pulling Regina into a stunned hug. "You're alive, you're alive, you're alive, you're alive," she repeated over and over, as if saying it would convince her that it was actually the truth. "Then it really is true: true love's kiss can break any curse." The princess kissed Regina fiercely, tears mingling between them. As the kiss ended, Emma hovered over Regina's face and said, "If you are my true love, then marry me, Regina."
It wasn't how she'd imagined doing it, or had practiced doing it, even; but it was how it was done, and neither Emma nor Regina would ever have wanted it to happen any other way.
"Is that how you greet a lady who's just spent the better part of two weeks battling death? Force her to come away with you, on your valiant steed, and become your bride?"
It was, of course, a yes. Regina would hardly be Regina if she did not complicate answers with her sarcasm and quick wit. It was one of the things that made Emma fall in love with her.
And so the two princesses were engaged to be married, and later would go on a magical crusade to win back Regina's rightful kingdom from the clutches of Queen Snow.
In the end, they would win, even though they would not be afforded any time to celebrate their victory.
For an embittered and banished Queen Snow had a plan that would destroy their happiness, once and for all.
.
Aidan Hardy is a practical man, and practical men do not wear suits unless they are for very special occasions. And tonight is a special occasion.
He walks into the crowded restaurant with an air of confidence, because why shouldn't he? He is Aidan Hardy. He is the man with no ties, the man with no strings attached. He has made a life of finding other people's strings and he's damned good at it. The woman he's here meeting tonight has got quite a few strings, too––and he's sniffed out every last one. He almost pities her, walking straight into a trap. But what he knows about her prevents him from pitying her.
When he sits down across from her, he smiles broadly and even manages to conjure up a blush. "Hi, you must be Sarah," he says, spreading his napkin over his lap. "Sorry I'm late, traffic was thick downtown. Can't even weave through on a motorcycle."
"Oh, it's no problem at all, I only just gave my drink order," the woman gushes, all grins and niceties. "You ride?"
He may as well indulge himself in conversation for a moment. It is, after all, his birthday.
"Yeah. Everywhere. No need for a car in a city like Boston. Wasn't that on my page?"
She's embarrassed, he can tell, since she fidgets awkwardly for a moment before speaking. "You'll have to excuse me, sometimes I forget things when I get nervous."
And time to make the cinch. "Do you get nervous often then? You must, to have forgotten about your husband and children."
She freezes for a moment, like a deer in the headlights, and Aidan can't help but revel in it before he leans forward and whispers, "Gotcha."
In an instant the woman's face turns from shock to desperation, and she dumps what is left of her champagne all over his cleanly pressed suit.
Perhaps not such a practical decision to wear that, after all.
Aidan watches bemusedly as she frantically runs for the door, and after he's had a moment to sop up the bubbly from himself, he strides out after her. Luckily for him, he's already had her BMW booted, so he can take his time.
Sure enough, when he reaches the vehicle in the parking lot he finds her swearing and smacking her steering wheel out of what must have been a very frustrated defeat.
"Well, that isn't very ladylike of you," he admonishes, just before he grabs her by the back of her head and smashes her against the wheel, knocking her temporarily unconscious.
"That's okay. I'm not much of a gentleman, either. But who's keeping score?"
No one.
After he's made the calls he needs to make and the woman is safely apprehended, Aidan mounts his bike and takes off for his lonely apartment. It's late, but not too late. Just about eight thirty. Nice time for riding. He zooms his way through the city and after some time passes a Publix on the end of a street; one that he must pass everyday. Yet somehow, looming quiet and dull in the moonlight, it looks distinctly different. He doesn't know what it is, but something lurches inside him and he pulls to a stop just in front of it. It didn't close till ten, right? He didn't know. Publix was normally too expensive for his tastes.
His feet guide him to the bakery and his hands find their way around a heavily iced cupcake in a little plastic box. Aidan didn't have a sweet tooth yesterday or the day before, but he has one tonight. Soon enough he's in the checkout line and the cashier, a nice lady with a blank stare, asks him if it's his birthday or something.
"Actually, it is," he responds, tiredly. Though he forces a smile, just to be nice. "I turned twenty-eight…" he glances down at his wristwatch, "about fifteen minutes ago."
She's polite as she hands him his bag, and when she wishes him a happy birthday he feels it is truly genuine. He needed that.
When he steps into his empty apartment the loneliness finally hits him. Another birthday spent by himself. He tries not to be sentimental, but every once in a while it sneaks up on him and he's helpless against the reality of his hermitage.
He sets the cupcake on his kitchen island and rummages through a few drawers to find a candle. He may not allow himself to be sentimental on any other day, but somehow his birthdays always ended up being an exception.
Soon the candle is lit and he leans forward and stares at the flame, placing a wish securely in his mind. He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath, but before he has the chance to expel it he hears a knock at his door.
That's curious. He isn't expecting anyone. Aidan straightens and wrinkles his brow as he makes his way to the door.
When he opens it, he doesn't see her at first. Then he looks down at his mid-calf level at locks eyes with what must be a ten-year-old girl. Before he has a chance to question her, she speaks.
"Is your name Aidan Hardy?"
He sees no reason to lie, so he doesn't. "Yes it is. Can I help you?"
"Yes. My name is Margaret, and you're my father."