A young girl, dressed in a white and feathery gown, stands behind the velvet curtains, her small and delicate hands covering her mouth in excitement. She can barely take it all in. She scrambles to the center of the ballroom, underneath the sparkling chandelier, where her father stands. He laughs, blue eyes twinkling, and kneels to the ground, extending his arms out. She runs straight into them, screaming in delight as he lifts her above his head.
"Father, put me down!" she shrieks, wriggling in his strong grip and beating his chest with her small fists. He finally does so, and places a kiss on her forehead.
"Emma, honey, come over here," a woman with hair as black as ebony and skin as white as snow beckons her daughter. She is sitting on a throne and smiles radiantly as her daughter, her biggest pride in the world, runs to her. Emma kneels beside her, gazing at her expectantly.
Her mother pulls out a small object from the creases of her dress, something shiny and gold. Emma's pink lips form a circle, and she whispers, "Is this - ?"
"Yes," the woman smiles. "It's a compass, so that you will never forget where you come from. And if you ever get lost, you'll know how to find us."
"Oh, mother!" Emma throws her arms around her mother's neck. Laughing, they hold each other tightly until her father shouts, "Snow! Come dance with me!"
"Your father is an impatient man." She breaks away and smiles, shaking her head. She touches her finger to tap her daughter's nose affectionately and pinches her cheeks, making Emma squeal. "I wonder who takes after him?"
She holds the front of her dress in her hand and runs up to her husband. Emma trails behind her, not wanting to be left behind.
Suddenly, a large gust of wind enters the palace. The flame on every candle leans precariously, threatening to go out, and purple smoke appears near the doors.
"Sorry, I'm late." The voice sends chills up and down the spines of every man and woman in the room. A woman dressed completely in black velvet stands in the doorway, her perfectly shaped eyebrow raised and dark lips pursed. She begins to walk, almost glide, toward the center of the ballroom, where the couple and their child stand.
The man takes a step, pushing Emma behind him. He places his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to brandish it at any moment. Snow lays her hand on his and murmurs his name warningly, "Charming."
She is the only one who does not seem to fear the woman. Her voice is not shaking, but steady and disappointed. "Regina, what are you doing here?"
"I must have missed the invitation," Regina ignores her question. She circles the royal family and examines her nails nonchalantly. Then, she whirls around dramatically, clouds of purple smoke following her swift movement. "You didn't think you could really keep me out, did you?"
Charming responds sharply, "We banished you from the Enchanted Forest for a reason. Now leave, before you regret it."
Regina laughs slowly and suddenly raises her tone tauntingly, attempting to make herself sound innocent. "I'm only here to give you a warning."
Her voice immediately lowers into a snarl. "You destroyed my happy ending. Say your goodbyes, because tonight, I will destroy your happy endings."
Snow pulls the sword out of Charming's hilt and aims to throw it at Regina, but she disappears behind a thick cloud of smoke. Everyone waits with bated breath, but for ten long seconds, nothing seems to happen. Just as they begin to exhale in relief, the grounds shake. The chandelier above starts to sway. The guests start to scream and run from the ballroom, just as it comes crashing to the floor. Shards of crystal shatter everywhere. The candles are snuffed, and everything is dark. Purple smoke encircles the building and enters the room through every crack and hole in the wall. Everywhere you look, it is purple. Emma raises her hand to her mouth and begins to cough.
Charming shouts, "Quick! Run!"
Snow reaches for her daughter's hand, and Emma clasps it fearfully. They run toward the exit and run for the magic wardrobe, which will keep them safe from the curse.
In her hurry, Emma drops the compass. Gasping, she wriggles her hand out of her mother's hold and starts to run back.
"No! Emma!" Snow shouts desperately. "Emma!"
Emma picks up the object and runs frantically toward her mother and father. Suddenly, a large part of the ceiling caves in and falls to the floor, blocking their path to the wardrobe.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a young boy appears. He shouts, "Over here!"
Without hesitation, the royal family finds the source of the voice and runs toward him. He holds something in his hand. It is small and curious-looking, transparent and yet sparkling with various colors. He throws it to the floor, from which a hole seems to grow. Suddenly, there is a blinding green light everywhere and the hole becomes a swirling vortex, a black hole of some kind.
He screams, "Well, what are you waiting for? Jump in!"
Snow and Charming hold on to each other tightly, hesitant. Looking at the boy once more, Emma recognizes his piercing blue eyes and realizes him as the kitchen boy.
She swallows and squeezes her eyes shut. Either hand holding on to both of her parents, they all jump.
She is suddenly aware that her hold on Snow and Charming's hands are loosening. She screams as she is pulled violently from them. It feels like she is falling for ages.
Then, the blinding green lights are gone, everything is dark, and everything is quiet.
When she lands, her head hits the ground first. Her hand grows limp and she lays there.
Alone.
—
Posters are being tacked and nailed onto trees, walls, doors, any surface from which they can be seen. Crowds of people block the road, whispering incessantly into each others' ears. Chattering, gasping, questioning, exclaiming. Eyes widen, hands flutter to mouths, jaws drop, voices rise excitedly. Children giggle and adults gossip. The land has not been so alive in nearly twenty years.
A man opens his wooden shutters and looks down, observing the village below him. He is barely thirty years old and already the most conniving man in all the land. He is known by all, but only in secrecy. To many, he is a pirate, a thief, a villain. But to a few others, he is a hero.
"Have you heard?" A small and round man comes pouncing into the room, his red hat bouncing ridiculously on his head. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes wildly bright. "There's a rumor that the princess may be still alive!"
"And this would interest me why?" The man's eyes, the color of the sea on a summer evening, widen tauntingly as he raises a dark brow. Already bored, he turns his gaze back to the scene outside of the window.
"Snow White is offering an enormous reward for the person who brings back her daughter. We need this, captain. We can finally live the life we've always wanted."
His ears perk up in interest.
"A monetary reward? Very well." This so-called captain rubs the dark shadow on his jaw with his hand, which are decorated with rings (stolen, no doubt). After a beat of silence, he waves his fingers in the air in sudden epiphany. "We shall hold auditions. We find a woman best suited to imitate the princess and bring her back to the queen. We get the reward, pay the girl for her job, and leave. Easy as pie, isn't that right, Smee?"
He smacks the small man on the back so hard that he stumbles forward. He adjusts his hat and prances eagerly to the man.
"When do we start, cap'n?"
The man's face twists as his lips curl up into a crooked smile. His piercing blue eyes flash mischievously and his dark hair starts to fly messily on his forehead as the wind starts to blow. He promptly closes the shutters, droning out the chatter of the villagers, and turns to walk away. Without a glance back, he drawls, "Right away."
—
"Excuse me, ma'am?" A young woman walks up to a village stall, her face obscured by the large hood she wears. "Do you know where I could find a magic bean?"
"Where would you want to go with it?" The merchant is mocking. She purses her lips, cranky after a day of pushy customers and meager profit.
Her fingers move instinctively to stroke a small compass which lies on a dainty gold string around her neck. The woman struggles to explain, and she sounds unsure of herself. "I want to find myself."
"Well, I can help."
"Really?" Her voice fills with gratitude and excitement. Her eyes light up.
"Sure," the merchant says. "Here you are!"
She throws her head back and cackles, hand on her protruding and lumpy belly.
Rolling her eyes in frustration, the hooded young woman walks away, tossing her head angrily. She bumps into an old man, who wears patches for clothes and no shoes. She apologizes profusely, but he interrupts her.
"Excuse me, miss," he wheezes. "I couldn't help overhearing, but did you need a magic bean?"
She nods carefully.
He looks around him before beckoning for her to come closer, as if he is afraid that someone will hear. When she does, he places his lips near her ears and whispers, "Find a man named Jones. Killian Jones. He's your ticket out of the village."
A smile stretches across her face. Finally, she is getting somewhere. Her voice rises in excitement. "Where can I find him?"
"He lives in a room in the abandoned castle. Ask for him, and he'll give you what you want for a fair price." He points in a general direction, and she follows his gaze. His gaze flicks around him nervously, and he puts a wiry finger to his chapped lips. "But you didn't hear it from me."
When she turns to thank him, he is gone.
—
"You found me." The person stands at their side, exposing long black hair, a face caked with makeup, and legs stuffed into a frilly skirt. She (he?) then turns 180 degrees, revealing a bare face, shorter hair, and leather pants and ruffled shirt. They lower their voice. "Did you ever doubt I would?"
Jones sits at a table, tapping incessantly at the wood in annoyance. He is unamused. "Next."
A few minutes later, a girl in crooked golden braids walks in. She has large arms and hairy legs, a voice that is pitchy and squeaky. Jones raises an eyebrow and leans over to whisper something into Smee's ear. Smee immediately nods and lumbers to the stage. Approaching the girl from behind, he yanks her hair, which swiftly falls off of the scalp, revealing shorter dark hair. A wig!
"Nice try, lad," Jones sneers at the embarrassed boy. "Perhaps you can try the act elsewhere."
The sun is setting, the sky darkening, and Jones is nowhere near close to finding anyone who resembles the lost princess in the slightest. He rubs his eyes frustratedly and groans.
—
The castle is not hard to find. It is visible from any village nearby, for it is so large that the turrets seem to pierce the sky from every angle. She walks to the door and hesitates, but only for a second. Taking a deep breath, she murmurs to herself, "Here goes nothing," and pulls. She stumbles back when the door opens easily. It is much lighter than it looks.
As she takes a step inside, she pulls down her hood. Her long blond hair falls out in tangled waves around her shoulders and her green eyes stare in wonder. Her mouth is agape and she whirls around as she observes every tapestry, every piece of furniture, every inch of the castle. She can hardly believe that people actually lived here. How ridiculous her home seemed now…if she could even call it that.
As she gazes at the stone walls and the bright paintings that covered them, she can't help but wonder if she has been here before. She shakes her head and laughs at herself. She has lived in an orphanage all her life. If anything, she must have been here once upon a dream.
As she steps back, she bumps into a wooden dresser, knocking over a sword that had been propped up against it.
The sword clatters as it falls, and the noise rings and echoes throughout the entire castle. She flinches, internally cursing herself, and hurries to place it back in its original place. Two floors above, in an abandoned room, the two men jump at the sound.
"Did you hear that, Captain?" Smee asks, startled. Jones immediately shushes him, placing a finger on his lips. He steps outside and walks down the stairs cautiously.
"Who's there?" he calls. He hears footsteps receding quickly.
"Who's there?" he roars once more. He arrives at the bottom of the staircase. His foot hits the floor and he sees a woman standing about ten feet from him, running toward the door.
"No, stop!" He yells. "STOP!"
She freezes and turns around slowly toward the sound of his voice. She stands in front of a large painting. Her voice is timid at first. "Are you Killian Jones?"
"That depends on who you are, lass." He smirks.
"Swan," she responds, her voice steadier now. She straightens herself. "I'm Anna Swan."
"Well, Anna Swan, how did you find us here today in our humble abode?" He walks slowly toward her and gestures exaggeratedly at the grand furniture and art pieces that adorn the castle.
"I was told - but I can't tell you by who - that you knew where to obtain magic beans?" She sounds unsure, maybe even doubtful.
Jones opens his mouth to reply, but instead, grunts when Smee's fist digs itself into his side. Smee stares pointedly at the painting behind Anna, and suddenly, he sees it. His eyes glaze over and his jaw drops.
"I need to get there, because I don't know who I am. It sounds ridiculous, but I remember nothing of my childhood. All I know is that I once had a family and a home, and I just want to know where they are. It sounds crazy, but I feel like I lost them, because of a magic bean, and I thought that maybe I could - are you even listening to me?!" Her hands are crossed over her chest and she is scowling.
Jones turns his gaze back to her, shakes his head to wake himself from a reverie, and furrows his brows apologetically. "I'm sorry, you just look so much like - I mean - do you - " He abruptly cuts himself off and closes his eyes before opening them again. He replies finally, with a grin that makes the sides of his eyes crinkle, "You came to the right place."
He glances back at the painting behind her, the painting of the royal family. Prince Charming stands tall and dignified, his blue eyes staring straight at you. Snow White, the fairest of them all (her skin indeed as white as snow), stands beside him, a smile tugging at her lips, carrying a child in her arms. A child with soft golden hair and gem-like green eyes. The same eyes that stare expectantly at him right now, in this very room.
His breath hitches and he exhales slowly. Tilting his head slightly, he beckons toward her and starts to walk toward the stairs. She follows him.
"You're in luck. I've been meaning to get ahold of one myself, lass. We can journey together. I've ordered for a carriage to - "
He freezes. He stops talking suddenly and bites the inside of his cheek. He throws Anna a look of guilt.
"What's wrong?"
Jones sighs and runs his fingers through his dark hair, "You see, lass, the carriage can only hold three people."
He ticks the names off with his fingers. "Me. Smee. And Emma."
"Emma?" She wrinkles her nose in confusion.
"The daughter of the royal family." He gestures toward the painting. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes as he observes her. She squirms a little in discomfort, under the gaze of his intense eyes.
"Unless…" he muses, feigning deep contemplation. He rubs his fingers together, below his jaw and licks his lips. "You do look a lot like her."
Her eyebrows shoot up as she understands the implication of his words.
"Oh no, no, no." She laughs in bemusement and starts to walk backward, waving her hands in front of her. She gasps as Smee catches her from behind and pushes her forward again. Jones raises his hand to grab her chin lightly and moves it slowly to look at her closely from different angles.
"You've definitely got your mother's eyes. Those green eyes," he says.
"And her chin!" Smee chimes in.
"Your cheekbones could pass for Charming's," Jones speculates.
Emma scoffs, finding the situation utterly ridiculous. "You think I could pass for a princess."
"Love, with our help, you could be anything you wanted to be," Jones winks and leans in toward her, his whisper hot on her cheeks.
She does not react in the slightest to his close proximity nor his wink, which puzzles him. (Many a man's wife would fall at his feet even at the sight of him.) "I'm sorry, I can't help you do something like this."
He sighs again. "Well then, I guess you'll have to find your way around. Alone. Goodbye, Anna Swan."
But when he begins to walk away, he is not discouraged. He counts off in his head, a knowing smile stretching across his lips.
"Wait," she calls reluctantly, at the count of five. He grins triumphantly and then, wiping the smile off of his face, turns around, gazing at her expectantly. She says, "I'll do it. If I don't remember who the hell I am, who's to say I'm not the princess, right?"
He doesn't know if she is convincing him or herself. But it doesn't matter.
He stretches his arm out toward her, his palm facing upward, and reaches for her hand. She stares at him, so intensely, it feels like she is scanning his eyes for information. Her facial features soften slightly and she smiles, as if she is satisfied with what she has found. She places her hand in his. He clasps it, brings it to his lips, and kisses it softly, never once taking his eyes off of hers. She flushes, not because of the kiss, but because she recognizes those blue eyes from somewhere.
"Come," he nods toward the staircase and stretches his hand out."Everything we need is right in front of us."