Mary, Queen of Scots sits alone in her bedroom, fingering a lace handkerchief and a mirror. She glances at her reflection but quickly looks away. Her eyes are saddened and her face filled with worry. She knows not what to do or how to heal from the recent events of the castle. She savors her alone time, for even the sound of a man's breath in the air makes her bones shake and quake.
She closes her eyes to soak up the last breath of a winter sun through the windowpane. A knock sounds at the door. Her hands shake as she sings, "Come in," as she has not been fond of visitors as of late.
The door swings open and her husband, King Francis, enters, dressed in rich blue velvets and leather riding pants. She turns away from him to the window, not truly wanting to have another one of their famous arguments. "Leave us," she says to the guards, lip quivering.
Her guards leave, to stand outside the door. "I came to ask if you might come riding with me," her husband asks.
"I-I think I'd rather stay here," Mary says, "Thank you."
"You can't stay locked in here forever, Mary," Francis pleads, "Some fresh air will do you some good. You need to get away from this place."
"I will never truly get away from this place," she looks up to him, "Every time I think things start to get better something terrible happens."
"That does not mean we stop living," Francis says, taking a seat on the bed opposite her lounge, careful not to get too close, "You must not do this to yourself. Lola tells me you haven't been talking to her or any of your other ladies. I believe it is more than the recent events that ails you."
"When you are raped and taken prisoner in your own castle you may dictate to me what ails I have," she stands, her fists balled up.
"Mary, I didn't mean…" he starts but she interrupts him, holding up her hand.
"I know, Francis," she muses, "But that gives you no right to speak on it. I speak to you only now out of courtesy, as you are my husband and my King. I said we should lead separate lives and I meant it."
"That's it then," Francis stands, "This is all about him."
"Who?" Mary's brow furrows.
"Conde," Francis hisses.
"Conde?" Mary turns to him surprise, "You don't honestly think…"
"That's exactly what I think!" Francis says, "You say you can't bear to be in a room with any man yet you seem to spend an awful lot of time with him!"
"There is nothing between us. I do not want to have to tell you this again," Mary says, "It is not your business."
"Not my business? Mary, you're my wife. The woman I love above all else," Francis starts, "I just don't want to see you hurt."
"You're the one that is hurting me," she backs away from him, "Now go, leave me alone. Run back to Lola or whoever you like to gossip about me with."
"Oh," Francis laughs humorlessly, "That's what this coldness is about. It's Lola, isn't it."
"Please, Francis, I'm not as jealous and petty as you are," Mary spits through gritted teeth.
"I cannot change the past, but I'm not sure I would if I could. Lola and I have a son together. I am going to have to interact with her sometimes. You cannot work yourself up so that-"
"I am not worked up!" Mary shouts, "Now stop treating me like a child! I do not need to be told what I am doing wrong all the time. You say you love me but you are not treating me with love, accusing me of infidelity, jealousy, if that's what your love means then I want no part of it."
"Then perhaps you should go back to Scotland," Francis quips, "At least until you can function properly again."
"You don't mean that!" Mary says, large tears dropping from her eyes.
"Oh, Mary, I-"
"Save it," she turns away from him to the window.
She looks out into the distance and squints, noticing something strange. She wipes the tears from her eyes thinking it must be a trick of the eye from crying. "What is that," she whispers through heaving lungs, "In the distance."
She steps aside to let Francis look. "I don't know," he says, "But it's moving fast."
Mary and Francis fly down the corridor to the throne room to warn the others. Mary's black dress billows behind her like a storm cloud, rushing towards the smoke rather than away from it. Lola places a woolen coat over her shoulders as they step outside, into the courtyard. Purple smoke rises in the distance, not a mile away. "Get everyone inside," Francis commands, "Shut the gates!"
The gates slam shut a few moments later as the people of the castle rush to get inside. "Do you think it could be some sort of plague?" Francis asks, once safe in the throne room.
"I'm not sure," Bash says, shaking his head, "This is nothing I've ever seen before."
"A weapon then," Mary suggests, "From the English."
"Perhaps," Bash considers it, "In any case, no one has seen this before. We've shut the gates but we don't know what else can be done."
"Are we safe here?" Francis asks, "Within the walls?"
"I cannot be sure," Bash says, "But the gates are barred and the castle is safe for now. I estimate the smoke will be upon us within the next few moments."
"Purple smoke rises!" a knight says, streaming into the room, "It has passed through the gates."
"Oh!" Mary says, brow furrowed with many worries.
Several people gasp as nervous panic boils through the room. "Francis I-" Mary says, turning to him, "I'm sorry."
"I love you," he says, whispering, "This might be my last chance to say it."
"I love you too," she forces a smile, "And I want you to know there is no other, and there never was."
"That's good to know," he says.
Purple smoke swirls around the windows, seeping through the cracks. "Do not be afraid," Francis looks to her, "For in Heaven we can be together once more."
"Take my hand," she says, reaching out to him, forgetting her fears of men for a moment, "I don't want to die alone."
"This is it," he says, through the screams, as the purple smoke floods the room, adding, "Mary!"
The purple smoke takes them. Mary feels as though for a moment she can't breathe. She shuts her eyes tight against the smoke and feels Francis slip away from her. "No!" she breathes, but no sound comes out.
Thud! She hits the ground hard, falling to her knees. She opens her eyes, the purple smoke is fading away. She sits on the ground for a few moments, confused, tracing the double yellow line on the road with her fingers. She had never seen a black stone road before. It is very hard, harder perhaps than the stone of the castle, and is thick with a layer of ice. She stands, looking up to the clocktower. "Hey, watch it!" a man bellows as a metal contraption sails past her at an unfathomable speed.
"Francis?" Mary yells, "Francis, what's happened?"
She breaks out into a run but stops to look down. "What?" she says, looking down at her clothing.
She is dresses in tight black pants. She approaches a shop window, "Storybrooke Post Office," she reads before spying her reflection.
She grabs at her hair, which now touches her shoulders, much shorter than what it was a moment ago. She grasps at her strange white tunic and coat of leather. She covers her chest, finding herself wildly underdressed. "Francis!" she yells, streaming up the street, "Francis are you there?"
"Hey- whoa there!" A blonde woman in a red leather jacket steps out of the alleyway, "What's the matter!"
The woman takes a few steps forward and Mary a few steps back. "I'm not going to hurt you," the woman holds her arm up, "I'm Emma, Emma Swan."
"What is this place?" Mary asks, "Are you an English spy?"
"English spy," Emma recoils, "This is America, lady!"
"This is France!" Mary exclaims, "Where is my husband, Francis? What have you done with him?"
"I don't know where your husband is...but I can help you find him. You can trust me, I promise," she offers, "What is your name?"
"Mary De Guise, Queen of Scotland and France," Mary says.
"Mary Queen of Scots?" Emma says, taken aback, "Well, that's a new one."
"What is this place?" Mary asks, confused, pointing into the road, "What is that?"
"Oh that's a car. It is sort of like a horse but made of metal," Emma attempts to explain it to her, "And this is Storybrooke."
"Let me guess, purple smoke?" she adds.
Mary nods. "I'm sure your friends are around here somewhere," Emma says, pulling out a slender piece of metal.
"What is that?" Mary asks, stepping towards her.
"Oh this? My cell phone. It is used to make calls. You know, talk to people," Emma explains.
"A magic box," Mary exclaims.
"We've got more," Emma breathes into the phone, "Yeah, I've got Mary Queen of Scots. The curse should have brought a few more of them here, yeah? Okay, start searching the woods and the Toll Bridge and we'll meet at Granny's in an hour."
"Have you spoken to my husband?" Mary asks, stepping onto the curb beside her.
"That's not how this works," Emma says.
Mary grabs the cell phone from her, "Francis? Francis? Hello, Francis?"
"Give me that," Emma snatches it back, "I'm pretty sure the King of France doesn't have a phone."
"You don't know that!" Mary exclaims.
"I'm fairly certain," Emma says, "C'mon, lets get you to Granny's. I'll explain everything there."
"I do not wish to go to your grandmother's house," Mary says, confused and angry, "I want to go back to my castle."
"We're working on it," Emma says, "But until then we need to regroup at Granny's. I promise, you'll like it."
Emma Swan leads Mary down the street and up to the diner. "We've got a problem," Emma says to an old woman behind the counter.
The whole room full of people turns to look to them. "When we brought the ice wall down we sent shockwaves of the curse that was still trapped inside it to another land, or rather into the past."
A young boy jumps up from a booth, shutting a massive book. "Who is it, Mom?"
"You're not going to believe it," Emma says, "Henry, meet Mary Queen of Scots."
"No way," Henry exclaims, "We've read about you in school!"
"But mom, why is she here? She's not a character in any story book I know," he adds.
"Kid, I don't know. All I know is that she's here. And we have to find her husband," Emma says.
"Which one?" Henry asks.
"I beg your pardon but I only have one husband," Mary says, irritated.
Emma shoots Henry a warning look at they usher Mary into a booth near the back of the restaurant. "What strange food," Mary says a few minutes later as a massive cheeseburger is placed before her.
"You'll like it, I promise," Henry smiles.
Mary takes a few smile bites before deciding she likes it. Minutes pass as Henry and Emma try to explain to her the situation. "A magical curse brought you here by mistake," Emma continues, "I've sent out a search party to look for your friends. As soon as we find them we can work at sending you back."
"You can find them, can't you?" Mary asks, worry lines spreading through her face.
"We'll do our best," Emma musters a smile.
Ringing erupts from Emma's pocket, causing her to jump back. "Ah!" Mary exclaims, recoiling from it.
"It's okay, it's just my phone, remember?" she says, holding it up to her.
"What do you got?" she asks, "Uh huh. Okay. Well that's a start. Who did you say it was?"
"Is it him?" Mary asks, "My husband?"
Mary reaches forward, trying to grab the phone. "No, Mary," Emma says, "A man was found. He goes by the name Narcisse."
"Ugh," Mary groans, slumping back into the chair, "Out of a castle full of people you find Narcisse?"
Several minutes later a tall man with black hair and hook for a hand sidles through the room. In an odd way he reminds Mary somewhat of Bash. Behind him slinks Narcisse, the same as ever, so smug, so self-important. "My queen," he bows.
He wears blue pants, a flannel shirt, and a black beanie. Mary had never seen anything of the like. "Hey, you look like that guy from Lord of the Rings," Henry looks up to him.
"I beg your pardon?" Narcisse recoils from him.
"Nevermind," Henry says, turning from him, red faced and embarrassed.
"Have you seen any of the others?" Mary asks.
"No," Narcisse shakes his head, "I lost track of them when the smoke took us."
"There's a chance that not all of you were transported here," Emma admits, "You might be the only ones."
"I wouldn't say that," Claude sidles through the door, dressed in a high pink heels and a tight coat.
"Have you seen my dear brother?" she asks, "Couldn't care less about Francis but Bash I mean."
"No," Mary says, "None but us have been found yet."
"I do hope that my mother has been left behind," Claude rolls her eyes, sinking down into the booth next to Narcisse, "Perhaps she is dead and has saved me the trouble."
"I'm going back out to look," the man with the hook hand says, "I'll see you soon."
"Stay warm," Emma says, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
"And just when I thought I stood a chance with you," Narcisse looks to her, "Or perhaps I still do."
"I don't think you'll be getting many chances, Narcisse," Emma quips, "All I can see is lie lie lie written all over your face."
"I do like a challenge," he smiles slyly.
"I don't think Killian does," Emma snaps back.
"Stop it!" Mary yells, "We have been ripped apart from our kingdom, all of our friends and family and the first thing you do is flirt? And you Claude, celebrate?"
"Last I checked I was not very welcome back in our kingdom," Narcisse says.
"Nor was I," Claude interjects.
"Quiet, the pair of you," Mary crosses her arms, "Not another word until we get back."
Claude tuts loudly and throws her nose up into the air, spoiled, used to getting her way if she pouts long enough. Mary ignores her, turning back to Emma. "Where are you from?"
"Boston...Well, the Enchanted Forest. Well, Storybrooke now I suppose," she struggles, "I guess you could say I'm from a lot of places. I'm sorry, it's confusing."
"And you are the queen of this land," Mary surmises.
"Oh me? No," Emma says, "Here we don't have a queen. We have a Mayor."
"That's very odd," Mary says, "I would like to meet this mayor."
"I'm afraid she is at playgroup with my brother, but she'll be back soon," Emma says.
"The mayor is your mother?" Mary exclaims, "Then you will be the next mayor."
"That's not how it works. Our mayors are elected," Emma says.
"Huh," Mary tuts, wondering aloud, "If Francis and I were elected I wonder how many would choose us."
"I can think of at least one who would not," Narcisse looks to her.
Mary shoots him daggers, turning away, looking out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her husband. "Mary!" a voice at the door sounds.
She looks up and is half disappointed to see Kenna and Bash, Francis not amongst them. Kenna wears a baggy jumper, and Bash a cardigan. It would take some getting used to, these strange Storybrooke clothes.
"You look so different," Kenna says, sitting in a chair across from the booth.
"So do you," Mary remarks.
"That Captain fellow has told us what happened. Can you believe it? Magic?" Kenna remarks.
"I just hope we can find a way back," Bash says.
"We can," Henry remarks, "My mom has magic beans. I'm sure she'd help you."
"Why didn't you tell me before?" Mary looks to Emma.
"Oh, not me," she brushes her off, "His other mother, Regina."
Mary and company look up at her in wonder and confusion, "It's a long story," she remarks.
"I want to help," Mary stands, "I want to go out and look for Francis."
"Ready a horse for me," she looks to Bash.
"We don't have many horses here," Henry says, "But my mom has a car you could take."
"I really think you should stay here," Emma pleads, "I promise you we're doing all we can do."
"I feel useless here and I want to help," Mary says, "Take me to your carriage and we will leave with haste."
"If that's what you want," Emma throws her hands up, "Alright, I'll take you."
Emma leads Mary into the street and towards her yellow car. "How do you make it go with no horses to pull it?" Mary asks.
"I don't know much about cars," Emma shrugs, "I'm probably not the best person to ask."
"Alright, Mary, where was Francis when the smoke came?" Emma asks, "Where was he in relation to you?"
"He was holding my hand, we were in the throne room, but I think we got separated. I felt him pull away from me," Mary says.
"He could be anywhere," Emma sighs, "But probably closer to you than anyone else. Let's head back through the center of town to the clock tower."
Mary shivvers half from the cold, half out of nerves. "Don't worry, we've got this. This isn't the first time we've been through this in Storybrooke."
The engine roars on and the car jerks forward, Emma hitting the gas. Mary looks around, wide-eyed and half terrified, to be hurling down a road in a snarl of metal. It's clear to her there's much magic in this place.
"There," Mary says, pointing into the street, "That's where you found me."
"What is close by?" Mary adds, "Surely he would have answered me if he was here."
"The woods and the mine are just up the road," Emma says, "We should start there."
Mary relaxes as she gets used to riding in Emma's car. Emma's phone rings loud again and she digs in her pocket, car veering slightly on the road. "Killian," she says, "What's happening?"
She jams a button and Killian's voice sounds loud from the device, filling the car. "We've got him," he says, "But you're not going to like it."
"What happened?" Emma asks.
"He's in the mine," Killian says, "We're trying to get him out, but when he was sent here he materialized stuck in the rock."
"The dwarves are trying to get him out now," Killian adds.
"We'll be right there," Emma says, hanging up the phone, stepping on the gas.
"We'll get him out," Emma says, "The dwarves know what they're doing."
Mary is stunned into silence, gripping onto the car, for fear she might faint and fall into the dashboard. She exhales hard as they pull up to the mine. Mary races out of the car, barely waiting for it to stop, running into the mine. "Mary, wait!"
Emma runs behind her. Mary slows to a stop as she spots Francis, his leg stuck into the wall, seven men crowded around him, trying to carve him out. "Francis," she breathes, throwing her arms around him.
"Mary," he says, his face blackened with earth and stone, but still Francis.
"I thought you were dead," she shakes, "I thought I was never going to see you again."
"Me dead? No. Never," he cracks a smile.
"But Nostradamus-" she starts.
"To hell with Nostradamus," Francis says, "It'll be okay, Mary. I'm not planning on dying today."
"Can you get him out?" Mary addresses the man before her.
"We're trying our best," Leroy says, "I think we've almost got it."
Mary covers her ears as the jackhammer pounds into the rock wall. The stone cracks and the jackhammer slows to a stop. Francis jerks his leg and falls back, his thick boot still stuck into the wall. Mary rushes to him as a sits up, moving his foot at last. "Lucky for you it's hollow," Leroy knocks on the wall.
Mary throws her arms around him. "Bash and some of the others are here," Mary says.
"Where exactly is here?" he looks around, "And what happened to your hair!"
"You don't like it?" she says, touching it.
"No, no, I love it, you just surprised me, that's all," Francis says.
"We appeared like this," Mary says, "All of us."
"There was a magical curse that brought us here," Mary adds.
"Leroy told me," Francis says, "I'm not really sure I believed him until now."
"Can you walk?" Mary asks.
"I think so," he says, standing shakily to his feet.
He hobbles back out, through the mine with one boot. "What's going on?" a black haired woman slams the door of a large black car, "Who are they?"
"Mary and Francis," Emma says, "The King and Queen of France."
"And Scotland," Mary adds as they emerge.
"Great. More royalty," the woman says, "Is that what you wanted this for?"
She brandishes a small magic bean. "Oh, yes, thank you, Regina," Emma says.
"I've got a new crop started," Regina says, "But nevertheless," she throws the bean back into her pocket.
"All magic comes with a price," she says.
"I can't guarantee that you'll be sent to the right time," Regina turns to Mary and Francis, "You might arrive weeks, months even, after you left."
"What will happen to France?" Mary asks, looking to her husband.
"There's no way to know," Francis says, "Unless we go back."
"Of course we're going back," Mary says, "Aren't we?"
"You told me you were trapped inside that castle, like you could never be yourself again. And now you're out and you want to go back?" Francis asks, "What kind of a husband would I be to ask my wife to go back to that life."
"Francis, we'd lose everything. France and Scotland would lose everything," Mary reasons.
"Not if I send Bash to rule in my stead," Francis suggests, "He almost became king once."
"And I will take your place if you ask it of me," Bash shuts the door of a silver car, helping Kenna out.
"This is crazy!" Mary says.
"Is it?" Francis reasons, "Think about it Mary, it makes perfect sense."
"We've looked everywhere," Killian interjects, his silver hook shining in the sunlight, "No more crossed over."
"What about your son?" Mary asks him.
"He'll grow up to know the great deeds of his father. Lola will be well taken care of," Francis says.
"Are you coming or not?" Claude asks, her hands on her hips.
Regina throws the bean to the ground, creating a massive swirling portal back into France. "Go!" Francis says, as Kenna, Bash, Claude and Narcisse jump down into it.
"You don't have much time!" Regina calls over the noise, "It's going to close any second."
"Let it," Francis says, looking to Mary.
They take one last fuzzy look at their court and their friends as the portal snaps away, leaving nothing but common earth behind. "Did you just?" Mary starts.
"I did," Francis says.
"I have more beans," Regina interrupts them, "If you want to go back I can see it done. Just know that any time spent here will also be spent on the otherside."
"We know," Mary says, "But I'm not sure we will be coming back."
"Thanks for this," Mary says, an hour later, their arms interlocked, swinging as they walk down the sidewalk of the center of town, "I know how much you're giving up."
"I'm not giving much up, really," Francis says, "And I'm gaining far more."
"I've got you back," he says, kissing her on the cheek, Mary no longer bothered by the events of the castle, for those men are long dead.
"You never lost me," she looks up at him, "But maybe we needed this to happen to see it."
"What do we do now?" she adds.
"We live," he says simply, "The way we want."
They pass through the door of Granny's diner, eager to learn about the new world in which they will be living, far from their past, and much closer to the love they thought they had lost.