Chapter 1: The Apple

Deep in the dark of her prison, the sleeper woke.

It was quiet here, without the din of dark desires to serenade her. It was always quiet, for nothing stirred in this cavern except her, nor had it for the twenty-eight years she'd brooded there.

Her mind was as still as her talons, and her tail. There was no madness in her unwavering glare, despite how long she'd spent alone. Yes, her mind was clear and steady, and focused. Absolutely focused.

In the light of the glass coffin at the cavern's centre, the dreamer narrowed her eyes. Fierce things they were, shielded by scaled lids and serpentine, with all the sureness of an implacable predator. She was reminding herself of her vow: that one day, with patience, she would get out of here. And when she did, she would find the one who'd done this to her.

My only friend.

She wouldn't kill her. No, friends like these didn't do that to each other. She'd resolved that much once the patience of decades had asserted itself over her fury. Besides, the Queen – or, as she preferred to be called now, the mayor – was a very powerful sorceress. Taking her life would mean releasing a blast of magic, one so powerful, the dreamer was sure it would transcend even the reach of the curse. So it would be suicide, and the dreamer had no intention of dying.

But, her friend was going to suffer for it all the same. Suffer for longer than this.

Still, the dreamer could only make her vow to the rocks of a cavern she could not escape. Still she remained here, with only dreams to console her.

She laid her head down, with an impact that shuddered through the earth. She snorted out a casual breath of flame, and closed her eyes. In the recesses of sleep, there were familiar victims to be found.

Yes. There was some consolation in dreams, after all.

And there was more. For the first time since she'd ended up here twenty-eight years ago, her friend was throwing her fresh meat. She'd seen it, through her tenuous link to the world beyond this prison, by the last vestiges of magic hidden inside her.

Another soul to be torn open and broken down. Another to join the chaos, to become intertwined with her mind forever. Enter Emma Swan. Welcome to your own nightmare.

With armoured eyelids shut, and already drifting off, Maleficent curled her jaw into a grin.

Ten-year-old Henry Mills was caught up in Emma's arms. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was trying his best to be brave, but it wasn't easy. He figured he didn't have to think about things just yet. He could just hold on and pretend she wasn't really leaving, pretend their whole conversation just now had been some cruel trick of his mind.

But when he raised his head from where he stood hugging her, and opened his eyes, the turnover on the bench came into focus. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he broke away from Emma at once.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, going in for a closer look.

"Regina gave it to me," Emma said... like she didn't see what a big deal that was.

Henry leant over the plate – and recoiled the moment he smelt it. "Apple!"

"So?"

He shook his head. "You can't eat that - it's poison."

"What?"

"Don't you see? The deal, it was all a trick to get you to eat that. To get rid of the saviour."

"Henry, come on." Emma sounded so calm and level, but Henry's heart was already pounding. "Why would she do that when I just told her I was going to go?"

"'Cause as long as you're alive, you're a threat to the curse!"

"Henry. You've gotta stop thinking like this."

She didn't believe in curses, he reminded himself – never had. But Regina was trying to kill her, and the proof was right there in the scent of baked apples.

"It's the truth!" he said. "And you leaving isn't gonna change that!"

Emma held his eyes.

"I'll prove it to you," she said. She reached for it.

Henry grabbed for it too. "No!" he yelled, wresting it from her hands.

"Henry!"

A jolt ran through him as he skirted around her to the other end of the kitchen. If he hadn't seen what she had in mind a second before she'd done it, it would already be over.

He made sure he was far enough away that she wouldn't make any sudden moves for it. Then he stood there, gripping the poisoned turnover, looking hard at her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

And suddenly, he knew exactly what he was doing.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this," he said. "You may not believe in the curse. Or in me." Emma tilted her head, like it hurt her that he'd even think that. It didn't matter. He really was sorry, but right then, only one thing counted, and it was that she understood. "But I believe in you."

He bit into the turnover.

It was the right thing to do. Or maybe it was the only thing to do. If he didn't force her hand now, she was going to leave, and that could not happen.

He chewed. It tasted innocuous enough, Mom's cooking, but he knew he was grinding poison over in his mouth. Emma looked at him with something painfully like pity, but he ignored that too, and stared straight back at her and waited for the world to slip away.

It occurred to him, this might be the last time he ever saw her.

It occurred to him this might be the end. Could it really kill him? Or would it just put him to sleep? Either way, it was out of his hands now. It was all up to Emma. As he swallowed, he felt like he could barely breathe. He was meant be there with her, when she broke the curse.

"See?" Emma said. "You wanna have some ice cream with that, and then we can get back to talking about the deal I made with Regina?"

He peered at the roll in his hands, and the bite mark taken out of it. Was it working? Would he start feeling faint first, or would he just black out?

"Henry? Did you hear me?"

He looked up. Emma was still there with that concerned expression... but there was something strange about it, something he couldn't quite place, like her eyes were laughing.

"But..." he said. "But, it was supposed to..."

"Do what? Put you in a coma for true love's kiss?" Emma strode over and took the turnover from his hands before he had time to pull it away. "I keep trying to tell you, kid. Regina's just happy that I'm leaving, no one wants to kill me, and magic isn't real."

And then she raised the turnover to her mouth.

"No," Henry said, grabbing for it, but she was taller, and she snatched it out of his reach and bit down and chewed. Henry watched in horror. "Emma, no! Please, please Emma, spit it out, maybe it just hasn't kicked in yet, or maybe it only works on you!"

Emma peered down at him and slowly, deliberately, swallowed. "Mm. Delicious."

Henry backed away, breath caught. Any second now, she was going to collapse. It was all over, he'd lost. All because she wouldn't listen to him!

But seconds passed, and she was still standing there. Nothing had happened. He was about as relieved as he was confused.

Then it clicked. "It's because there's no magic left in Storybrooke! Her spell must have failed!" His hands were shaking slightly from what had almost happened. "Emma, you have no idea how lucky we were just now."

Emma laughed and took another bite. "Henry," she said through the mouthful. "Do you have any idea how sick I am of hearing this same tired old crap?"

She might as well have hit him.

"N-no, you have to listen," he said, recovering quickly. "I know you don't believe, but I can show you. When I went to see August, he was turning back into Pinocchio, and he –"

"And Red Riding Hood came prancing around you in a circle and the Three Little Pigs tried to warn you she was a wolf, and the Gingerbread Man led you on a chase through the loony house while the Mad Hatter told you I was the chosen one." Emma tossed the apple treat into a corner, and started towards him. "Face it, kid. You're out of your mind."

He backed away in shock. "I'm… I'm not –"

"You wanna know the only reason I've stuck around so long? It's because you amuse me. You crack me right the hell up. Ten years old, and you actually believe in fairy tales. You should hear yourself."

"Emma," Henry pleaded. "That's not why you stayed, you know that's not true."

"Oh, it's true. The whole town feels sorry for you. Everyone from Archie to Mr Gold, and especially Mary Margaret. They nod their heads and go along like it's all a game, but behind your back they're talking about getting you nice and medicated, and putting you away. I play the part of the concerned mother for their sake, but frankly, it's getting old. The only other one who sees the joke is August. Oh, you didn't realise, did you? He has a prosthetic leg. He lost it in a motorbike accident."

"No." Henry shook his head. He couldn't take her eyes off her, but the turnover lay crumpled in the corner, and in dismay, it dawned on him what was happening here. "No Emma, listen to what you're saying, it's... it's the apple. My mom put a spell on it to turn you evil. You wouldn't say this." Tears stung at his voice. "You have to fight it..."

"There's nothing to fight. I only came here to start with to take advantage of you. It was all a show, Henry. Can't you see that? An act." As she said it, she dropped back into a tone of genuine concern, but there was a mocking edge to it. And then it was gone altogether. "You should have listened to your mom."

"But you're my mom," Henry said.

Hearing her talk like this sapped the strength from him. What could he do? He could beg Regina to reverse the spell, but of course she would say, she didn't know what he was talking about, and hadn't she warned him Emma would only hurt him? And he would know she was lying, and she'd know he knew, but it wouldn't change a thing. Emma would still leave, twisted up and spellbound. The curse would remain.

And, there was a tiny, dismal part of him wheedling that question the rest of him didn't dare ask. Not because he thought it might be true, even for a second. But because it was so terrible, that defeated side of him thought it was the only thing that made sense.

What if she was telling the truth?

"Regina didn't put a spell on me, kid." Emma had advanced so she was right in front of him, towering above, with a dark glint in her eye. "True enough she wants to drive me out. But like I said, I've had enough anyway. No doubt the reason you're so messed up to start with is because of how she treats you. But don't take that to mean I give a damn. You don't have any friends here and you came to me looking for help, but why would I want to spend any more time with you, listening to you blether on about how you can hear Jiminy Cricket's voice in your head?"

No.

This couldn't be right. With a glance to the half-eaten turnover on the floor, he reminded himself there was more than one hole to this story. There was in fact another possibility he hadn't thought of.

Henry raised his eyes to hers. His breath shook, but there was rage in his features and when his voice quavered, this time it was only through anger. "I don't believe you."

"Believe it or don't. But this is the real world."

"No it's not!" Henry said. "Emma would never say this to me in the real world. She's my mom, and she loves me. And she's going to save Storybrooke. And you're not her. So who are you, and where are we really?"

Emma's mocking smile flickered.

"Well," she said, and her voice was decidedly different. None of Emma's warmth and style, but in its place the silky tone of a predator at play. "And there I was starting to think this was going to be too easy."

Her face dissolved. It transformed into someone else's entirely. The hair was still blond, but curled. Her features were older, and harsher, and her mouth was a half-open black chasm. Her eyes were too wide, and they gleamed like reptile eggs. Henry had never seen her in the flesh before. Only in the picture drawings from his book.

The kitchen around them was disappearing too. Henry glanced about as the tiles shimmered like a water illusion coming undone, and the fridge and bench evaporated into smoke. When it cleared, they were standing in a wide, dark throne room, with stone steps leading up to a gilded seat that glimmered in the light shining through stained glass windows.

Henry managed a startled breath. When he'd taken in his new surroundings, he turned back to find the woman leaning over him, sliding a pointed nail under his chin to raise his eyes to hers. "Hm. You're going to be lots of fun," she said. "Sweet boy. Pleased to make your acquaintance. You can call me Maleficent."