Chapter Four - The Wolf And The Woods
"Where are you going?" The little boy asked. With his basket full of mushrooms, he seemed content to sit on 'his' rock in the rain and the muck. He was most spectacularly dirty, and didn't seem to mind this in the slightest. His eyes were wide and attentive, watching as the traveler moved back across the clearing to her horse, her hood pulled high against the steady beat of rain.
Her steed had retreated away from the coppery tang of magic, shying away from the constant prick of raindrops on weary withers to the shelter of the tree line. The traveler raised a placating hand to the beast's nose, resting it there for a moment before turning to stare across the clearing at the little boy. It was raining, his mother was probably worried for him and he had no cloak. "I can take you home," she said, and the boy's face erupted into a smile.
Nearly upending his basket, the little boy ran across the clearing, neatly sidestepping the place where the fairy ring had once been. If his magic was to be believed, they would be back in a quarter of a moon's time. Kicking up dirt and wet leaves, the boy drew level with the traveler. He slowed and then finally stopped; basket tucked neatly under one arm, his eyes wide. "Your horse is very big," he commented, reaching up to touch the beast's nose.
The beast sniffed his fingers, lips moving underneath the loop of his bridle. The traveler nodded at her mount's apparent contentment with the child. It was another sign that the little boy was no imp, just a little boy lost in the woods and the rain. She would take him home to his mother; it was the very least she could do.
"He is made for traveling long distances," the traveler explained. She knelt, knee sinking into the muck of the forest floor. "He is my father's."
The little boy's eyes grew wide, "Then your father must be a king, for I have never seen so fine a horse." He tangled his fingers in the crest of her horse's mane, fingering the stark white blaze that cut downwards across his forehead. The traveler figured that he must be accustomed to horses, for his movements were confident and unafraid.
The traveler looked away and shook her head. Her father was no king; she did not even know the man. The void of memory blossomed before her mind's eye and the traveler felt her breath catch. Never before on this journey had she thought about the man and woman she must have come from. Did she have parents? Did she have a father?
It was as if there were two sets of memories blurred together deep within her consciousness. The ground before her swayed and the traveler reached out an arm to steady herself on the stiff leather of her saddle. Her mind raced and she gasped for breath, staring at the child before her. It was just a simple question, but she didn't know the answer.
What had happened in the time they'd spent in the clearing to drive the memories of her childhood from her mind? She had to get away from this place, and fast, before she forgot her purpose and her journey. To take the boy home would be a kindness. Her distrust for the child was growing as her mind felt muddled under the weight of the magic of this place.
Still, she had committed now, she had no choice. Perhaps his mother was a kind woman who would allow the traveler a moment to dry herself before continuing on her journey. The traveler bent and offered her hand to the little boy, scooping him and his basket of mushrooms and settling him onto the horse's back.
With one last look at the clearing, the traveler jammed her foot into her stirrup and slung up behind him. The horse shifted under her weight as she adjusted herself fully into the saddle. She was unaccustomed to riding with another. "You're going to have to tell me where to go," she said, bending to speak into the little boy's ear as he giggled. His fingers had tangled in the horse's mane and the traveler made a point to hold the reins just in front of his hands as she nudged the horse into motion with her heels.
"Follow the stream to where it forks," the little boy said, pointing to a stream bed. The traveler checked the compass around her neck noting the bearing so that she could find her away back to this place if necessary. She hoped it would not be, she did not want to run afoul of such a place again.
The horse walked on, picking a path along the stream bed gingerly. The traveler was content with the pace; she did not want her horse throwing a shoe in these woods. It would take a miracle to find a farrier or a blacksmith in woods such as these.
"Go left here," The boy pointed at a birch growing by itself, white bark stark against the wet brown-gray of the tress around it. The journey was silent after that, the little boy sat still and upright, his posture on the horse excellent.
His mother or father must be skilled on a horse.
Soon a house swam into view in a clearing not dissimilar to the one that they had left. This one had no magic in it, and the ground here was swept clear of leaves and dirt. Grass grew in its place and children's toys littered the open space between the trees and the house.
"Is this your house?" The traveler asked the little boy, who nodded excitedly.
"Do you want to come and meet my mom?"
Emma had fallen asleep in Mary Margaret's bed, curled against her friend's back after coming back from the mine. Her entire body ached for the exertion of pulling both Henry and Archie up from the mine shaft, and her shoulder was killing her. As if to ward off the pain, she had contorted herself into the smallest ball possible. Emma's body only jerked awake as Mary Margaret rose to start her day and nearly rolling off the bed. "Hi," she said tiredly as Mary Margaret blinked sleepily down at her in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.
"Your bed is upstairs, Emma," Mary Margaret pointed out sleepily, turning and heading to the coffee maker. Emma blinked sleepily after her, decided that she was quite content here, thank you very much, and turned over to snuggle deeper into the bed.
She listened to the sounds of the morning beginning for her roommate and sighed. The dreams were getting worse. Normally she was able to separate the dream's reality from her own, but now they were blurring together into a perfect hodge-podge of her life in Storybrooke and some of Henry's fairy tales. Emma winced as she rolled over onto her back, her shoulder was probably bruised and it ached.
"Sorry," Emma muttered, pushing herself up on her good arm and meeting Mary Margaret's gaze from across the room. "We-I-" she closed her eyes, trying to push back the feeling of nausea as she thought of how Regina had pulled Henry from her arms without a second glance at Emma. The action, no matter how innocent it had been, had cut Emma deep to the bone. "Henry was almost trapped down there."
Mary Margaret set the mug that she'd been holding down onto the kitchen island and crossed to sit down next to Emma. She didn't reach out to touch Emma's bad shoulder, but instead grasped Emma's hand. "But you got him out," she said, eyes earnest and kind. Emma liked Mary Margaret's eyes, they were never judgmental or hard. There was friendliness freely offered in every glance, and Emma was drawn to that, it made her feel safe when she never felt safe before.
Her good arm was shaking as Emma ran a tired hand through her hair. "Yeah, we did."
Eyes crinkling as she spoke, Mary Margaret reached up to cup Emma's cheek. "That's all that matters then."
Emma wanted to say that yes it was, but there were other things that had happened out at the mine entrance, other things that Emma could not explain. She had stepped down that mine shaft without a care; the only thing on her mind had been the Mayor's approval of her actions. It wasn't until Henry was in her arms that she had even realized how badly her shoulder was bruised.
Regina had spoken to her, after the EMTs had checked out her shoulder and given her more ice packs than she'd known what to do with, it hadn't been a thank you. It had been a question that Emma had not been prepared to answer.
"What drove him down there?" The Mayor's eyes had been hard, her body stiff and unwelcome. Emma had wondered at the time if it was because of the stress of the past hours, but she now realized that it was because Emma had touched her. Emma had offered comfort when no other had bothered to try. The very thought of it must have been enough put the Mayor into extra nasty mode.
Emma hadn't known the answer then. "He came to see me," she confessed. "He was upset, sobbing. Doctor Hopper had said something to him - I don't know what - but he had gotten it into his head that the only want to prove the doctor wrong was to go down into the mines."
She recalled how the Mayor's face has hardened even further. She tried not to think about how she'd wanted to reach out and hold the woman again, to calm the sea of emotions that Emma wasn't fool enough to miss running just underneath the surface of Regina Mills' stoic expression. "And I trust you told him that that was a very poorly thought out idea."
"Yes!" Emma had not been able to keep her exasperation out of her voice. "I'm not an idiot, Regina. I have the kid's best interests at heart."
What had happened next had been enough to drive Emma into a rage unlike many she had experienced in recent years. Regina had taken a step forward, her mouth dangerously close to Emma's ear as she hissed, "Then you should leave, Miss Swan, before Henry's best interests become more than your fear of commitment can handle."
Mary Margaret's hand shoving a steaming mug of coffee into her face jerked Emma out of her thoughts and she accepted it gratefully. "Thank you," she said, cupping her hands around the mug.
"You looked lost in thought," Mary Margaret had pulled on a second sweater against the morning chill, and slippers that looked like they should belong to a seventy year old man.
Emma nodded, "Sorry, I was."
"Thinking about Henry?" Mary Margaret asked conversationally.
"No. His mother."
db
Emma very carefully avoided Henry and his mother for a few days after the incident at the mine. Her emotions were incredibly conflicted when it came to both Henry and Regina, and the distance was helping Emma to attempt to put her thoughts into order. She was settling here, she knew it. Putting down roots, finding a place for herself within the town's culture.
The idea terrified Emma, frankly. The last place that she'd felt even remotely comfortable was Tallahassee. Even then, in that hell-hole of a city, Emma had felt the near-constant pull of the road. She wanted to move on from the minute she'd arrived and unpacked her belongings from the back of the Volkswagen. Storybrooke was different; it drew her in and held her tightly. Emma found herself fitting into the town like she would in the embrace of a long-lost lover.
Graham had come in for the evening shift just as Emma was heading out on patrol about a week after the mine incident. He had an early meeting with the Mayor over the department's budget now that Emma had settled into being a more permanent addition to the staff. "We can trade cars," he said with a suggestively raised eyebrow. "I doubt that I'll be all that long, should be done around five or so."
Emma waved her keys at him and headed for the door. The town's lone municipal parking lot was located behind the court house, and Emma had taken to parking her car there and walking by Granny's Diner in the morning before coming into work for a cup of coffee and a bearclaw. Graham had realized pretty quickly and had begun to mooch donuts and coffee off her as he was coming off his nightshifts and headed to what Emma hoped was bed.
She'd really grown attached to Graham; he was like an overgrown puppy, constantly seeking out her attention. If Emma didn't know better, she'd hazard a guess that Graham liked her. The thought made her grin as she climbed into the cruiser. She wasn't in the mental place for romance, not with the near-constant reminder of one of her worst romantic decisions.
It wasn't easy to think of Henry's adoring face when she thought about the boy's father. It wasn't easy for Emma to think of those nights when her life had truly seemed as though it had hit rock bottom and then to see their end result alive and beautiful before her eyes. She had wanted a closed adoption because Henry was a reminder of the harshness of her own childhood, and Emma hated herself for seeing him that way. He didn't deserve it.
Patrol was easy, it gave Emma time to think, time to contemplate how no one really broke the law in Storybrooke. The extent of her deputy duties had been limited, for the most part, to public intoxication and domestic complaints. Emma had rescued exactly one cat, named Oliver, from a tree and had gotten her picture in the paper, hanging upside-down from her knees as she presented the cat back to its owner. Sydney Glass had given the article a headline that had made even Emma's sense of decency cringe.
Turning down Main Street, Emma noticed Henry ducking out of Mr. Gold's pawn shop and narrowed her eyes. Gold was bad news, even Henry knew that, so why was he in the pawnbroker's shop?
Slowing the cruiser, Emma rolled down the window and called out to Henry: "Hey kid!"
Henry turned, his scarf off-kilter around his neck as he glanced across the street and hurried across upon seeing no approaching traffic. His cheeks were rosy in the autumn chill, and Emma frowned at his lack of hat or hood in this spitting rain. "Hi Emma!" He said brightly.
"Hey Henry," She replied. She leaned over to open the passenger door and Henry hurried around to the other side of the car. After he'd climbed in and settled the bag from Mr. Gold's shop in the back seat, Emma pulled the car back onto the road and asked, "What were you doing in Mr. Gold's shop?"
Henry shrugged, "It was raining so soccer practice was canceled." Emma hadn't known he played soccer, but the bruises that she was always seeing on Henry's shins suddenly made a whole heck of a lot more sense. "I called my mom on Trevor's mom's cell phone, she said she was in the middle of a meeting so I should walk home." Henry took a deep breath, "Then Mr. Gold saw me and said something that my mom had ordered had come and asked if I would mind taking it to her."
It seemed... rather innocent, really, but Emma didn't trust Gold further than she could throw him. "That was very grown up of you," she said judiciously.
She drove slowly, talking to Henry about his day and about his homework. Eventually they ended up parked in front of the Mayor's house. Emma shoo'ed him out of the car because he had promised his mother that he'd go home and start his homework. The Mayor had been intolerable enough as it was without Emma contributing to Henry's supposed delinquency.
"What about Operation Cobra?" Henry asked, leaning in through the window.
Emma gave a very small shrug, "I don't know, kid." She did not want to tempt fate any more after the mine incident. She smiled at Henry, "The sheriff has got me working pretty hard this week, but he likes to work the weekend, so maybe we can talk to your mom about me taking you to breakfast on Saturday."
Henry shook his head, "Can't, I have a soccer game."
"I could come to that?" Emma suggested with a raised eyebrow. Maybe she could get Mary Margaret out of her David Nolan-induced-funk as well. Youth soccer, yet another thing she'd missed out on.
A smile erupted across Henry's face and he nodded excitedly before turning and running towards the front door. He dug in his pocket for a minute, unearthing a key attached to a fob in the shape of a swan. He unlocked the door and turned to wave at Emma, still grinning as she put the car back into drive and headed back into town.
Two hours and a speeding ticket for a Mr. French later, Emma was heading towards municipal parking lot looking forward to getting home for the evening and helping Mary Margaret make soup. The weather had been cold and rainy all week and her roommate had been comfort-cooking up a storm. Last night it had been homemade sourdough bread, tonight was the soup to go with it.
Preoccupied though she was, Emma couldn't help but notice as the Mayor and Graham walked out of the city office building together. They were walking a little closer than Emma had ever seen them walk, and he was carrying her briefcase and what appeared to be her shoes. Rolling her eyes, Emma swung the cruiser into an open parking spot. She was trying very hard to not think about what those two could have possibly gotten up to during a budget meeting that would have led to Graham carrying the Mayor's goddamn shoes around. Most of her scenarios were far more out of Henry's imagination than her own – to be honest. A whole lot of evil and witch was going on, that much was for sure.
Emma climbed out of the cruiser and tugged her own keys out of her jacket pocket before closing the door with her hip and heading towards Graham. "One speeding ticket," she said to him, handing him the keys with a flourish. "And a full tank of gas."
Graham awkwardly accepted the keys between two fingers, tucking the Mayor's shoes under his arm. One of the heels looked to have broken, which made Emma smile just a little bit.
"Deputy," The Mayor said, taking her briefcase and shoes from Graham. She was wearing battered-looking sneakers that looked like they were usually used for yard work, not that the state of Emma's running shoes was much better. They were still in Boston, soon to be packed up with the rest of her stuff and shipped here. Emma had contacted a moving company over her lunch break.
Emma inclined her head, "Madame Mayor."
Graham headed towards the cruiser and Emma turned to head towards her car. She didn't have anything to say to Regina anyway. Henry was sure to tell her that Emma had given him a ride home after she'd seen him with –
Oh shit! Emma turned and headed back towards the cruiser, thinking of the bag that she hadn't seen Henry bring into the house. "Hey Graham, is there a bag in the backseat?"
"Yup!" Graham leaned over the driver's seat and grabbed the bag, turning to hand it to Emma. "What is that?" He asked.
Emma shrugged, she didn't know. It felt solid, like an urn or a jug. She popped open the bag, but the object was wrapped in newspaper, no doubt to protect it on its perilous journey in the hands of a ten-year-old. "Henry picked it up from Gold for his mom…" She turned to see the Mayor watching them over the roof of her car, and waved, turning and heading over.
Regina had parked clear across the parking lot, and Emma found herself smiling just a little sheepishly as she drew level with the car. "My son is waiting for me," Regina said, her tone icy as Emma held out the bag.
"He left that in the cruiser. I gave him a ride home because it was raining," Emma explained as Regina took the bag and stared at the logo on the side. Shifting from one foot to the other, Emma shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "Look, I don't know about you, but I'd rather Henry not spend any more time around Mr. Gold than absolutely necessary, so maybe you can pick up your own orders from now on, eh, Madame Mayor?"
The expression that graced the Mayor's face was one of confusion, rather than annoyance at Emma's comment, which was strange. Emma was so used to the Mayor taking everything she said and simply running with it as a negative without even bothering to process and comprehend what was being said, that for her to have a pensive, or even confused expression was something else.
"I haven't ordered anything from Gold's shop in a long time," Regina muttered and pulled open the bag. The newspaper-wrapped packet was roughly the side of a basketball, only it seemed to be thinner and more oblong. The wrappings fell away easily; the confusion on Regina's face fading to a look that Emma could not quite place. She had seen the Mayor terrified, seen her worried and seen her scared. This expression was darker than that, more violent. It made Emma want to back away slowly and leave Regina to her volatile emotions.
Inside the newspaper was a small black and white urn with an old looking symbol on it. Emma, for a while when she was about fourteen, had been really into Norse myths and it almost looked like one of their letters was carved in to the middle of the bottle and a thick piece of cork formed a stopper at the top. Regina held it like it was freezing cold, or a thousand degrees. She shifted it from one side to the next, staring at it with narrowed, fathomless eyes.
"Cool urn," Emma commented.
"Quite, Ms. Swan," The Mayor retorted. While the remark was characteristically cutting, Regina's next actions were anything but. She moved very slowly, unlocking her car door and setting her ruined shoes and briefcase inside before closing it and jamming her keys so far down her pants pocket that Emma thought she might have been looking to do something else while she was down there. She hurriedly pushed that thought out of her mind, however.
Regina walked into the middle of the parking lot and set the urn down on the pavement there. Emma leaned against the Mayor's car and watched as the woman stared down at the urn for a long moment. She seemed to be contemplating it, examining it on all sides. After a moment, and Emma shifting uncomfortably against Regina's car, the Mayor seemed to arrive at a conclusion. She raised her sneakered foot and kicked the urn over.
The kicking was, when Emma thought about it later, probably the complete opposite of anything Emma thought Regina would do in such a situation. It seemed petulant, almost childish to do such a thing. Emma had no idea what sort of relationship there was between Mr. Gold and Regina, but it certainly did not seem all that pleasant.
Emma watched charred rock and ash erupted from the broken urn. It settled quickly, unhindered by the rain and breeze that had cropped up over the course of their conversation. Regina stared at the dust on the ground for a moment before she turned and walked back to Emma. She folded her arms across her chest and almost dared Emma to ask what that was all about. Emma, for her part, didn't. She was distracted by the way that the ash was moving on the ground.
It didn't seem to be being moved by the wind, that much was for sure. Regina offered up an explanation, her tone annoyed. "Mr. Gold needs to learn that trying to drag out old memories is only going to make me angry," she explained, but by this point Emma certainly wasn't listening.
A breeze had caught the ash, mixing it with the spitting rain that was just starting to pick up again. It swirled around the parking lot in a way that was most decidedly not normal, drifting from one car to the next before floating to hover over the broken remains of the urn that Regina had destroyed. Emma's hand was shaking as she reached forward to grab the Mayor and shove her into her car and away from whatever the fuck was happening before her. Her fingers closed around nothing as Regina shifted, away and forward, her entire body turning as she followed Emma's wide-eyed gaze.
Emma watched as all the color drained from her face, leaving her lips a far starker red than usual. It appeared to be growing solid, right before their very eyes. The ash was giving way to skin and bone, clawed feet settled onto the ground, pawing at the pavement. Emma felt fear grip her deep in her belly as the Mayor reached out a blind hand and grabbed, helplessly, for Emma's arm. "Run," she whispered, her voice shaking.
She didn't need telling twice, Graham and the shotgun that usually resided in the back of the cruiser were long-gone by this point. Whatever had been in that urn was apparently not friendly. "What the hell is that?" Emma demanded, her hand dropping to grab Regina's as she pulled them away from the cars that still dotted the lot. The woods were to one side, and the town to the other, Regina was headed towards the woods – away from other people. "Why-"
The beast threw back its head and howled long and low. It seemed like a wolf of some sort, but the very sound of the cry that fell from its jaws was unlike anything that Emma had ever heard. It was full of rage and sorrow, and it struck a chord deep within her – a beast desperate for a home. She risked a glance over her shoulder, and her blood turned cold.
A wolf unlike any that Emma had ever seen pictures of stood in the middle of the parking lot, its paws clawing at the pavement there. It had cleaved clear through the asphalt down to the earth below, kicking up dirt and rock as it sniffed the ground. Emma wasn't an idiot. She knew that, improbable though it was, the beast would catch their scent eventually. That couldn't happen. She was an officer of the law now; she had to get the Mayor and herself to safety.
Grunting, Emma pulled Regina down behind the low concrete wall that divided the parking lot from the forest. They were gunning for safety, to get away from whatever that thing was that Regina had … let out? It was out of Henry's stories and certainly had no place in the harsh reality of the day.
Her entire world was tumbling down around her and Emma wondered for what felt like the first time, if Henry was indeed telling the truth. Regina hardly looked like a queen, her eyes wide and terrifying as she peered out over the low wall at the wolf-beast-thing. "We have to get away from here," she muttered. The beast's ears swiveled towards the sound of her voice and terrified breathing.
Something crashed behind them and Emma's hands were shaking as she plunged her hand under her jacket where she kept her gun. Her hands closed around empty air and she remembered that with the shift change and patrol, she'd left the gun locked in the station's gun safe. There was a shotgun in the cruiser's trunk if they needed it. Like now, a shotgun would be damn good right about now. "Fuck," she muttered, skidding backwards on her hands, dirt splattering up the side of her pants. The ground was wet; it had snowed for the first time just a few days ago. The sea air had melted it, and now the perpetual damp seeped into the seat of Emma's pants as she half-crawled, half-ran towards the forest.
A dark looming shape grew heavy on the horizon and Emma scrambled further to her feet and grabbed the Mayor's hand. The woman looked shocked, eyes wide but without the fear Emma felt. Her fingers were pressed to her lips and she looked more human in that moment that Emma had ever seen her before. There was a twig and a few leaves in her hair from where Emma had pulled her down behind the wall that served their only protection from the beast's gaze. "We gotta get into the woods," Emma said, pulling at Regina. "Lose it in the trees."
"This-" Regina's voice sounded frightened as she allowed Emma to drag her into the woods. She was tripping, stumbling in Emma's wake. Emma urged them both on, muscles in her legs straining. She had to get them out of here, and fast. That thing, whatever it was, was coming for them.
The crashing behind them slowed and then fell silent. Emma found a downed tree near the crest of a low hill that had decent cover. "Get down," she whispered. She felt winded, but was relieved when the Mayor did what was requested of her. They both hunkered down behind the rotting, moss-covered tree trunk. After what seemed like hours of desperately trying to catch her breath, Emma risked a look over their shelter.
The woods were silent, not a bird or cricket to be heard. Emma's eyes narrowed as she scanned the area once before ducking her head back down. "I don't know what the hell you let out of that thing, but I doubt it can see us from here."
"This shouldn't be happening," Regina muttered, scrambling in her pockets, searching for something, apparently. Emma wanted her to say what the hell was going on. It wasn't fair that this was happening, not when so much of it to this point had seemed like a fairy tale dream. Her nostrils flared, watching Regina. She'd ask her questions later.
Emma longed for the protection of the gun her station warranted. It was safe, back in town, locked up and away where no one could get at it. She began to hunt around on the ground, gathering a few larger stones and setting them to the side. She'd seen Lord of the Rings, she knew that sometimes all it took to get away was a well-placed throw of a rock.
"Don't-" Regina's voice was strained. Emma looked up at her sharply, eyes narrowed and alert. The Mayor had her thumb in her mouth, biting down hard enough to draw blood. "Don't move," she commanded, pulling the bloody finger from her lips.
"What the hell are you doing?" Emma hissed at her as the Mayor shifted her weight towards her. In the distance, there was a startled caw of a crow, followed by the howl that they'd both heard earlier.
The Mayor shook her head and pressed her bloody thumb to Emma's forehead, tracing a line down her nose to her lips. She pulled it out across Emma's left cheek, forming a spiral and drew a cross across her right. "There is no magic in this world," Regina explained as Emma flinched as she withdrew her thumb from Emma's face. "That beast shouldn't be here."
She tilted her head to the side, eyes half-trained on the clearing before them. Emma's breath came heavy as the Mayor leaned in, her face as close to Emma's as it had ever been. She could feel rather than see the mist from Regina's own terrified breathing as the Mayor inspected her handiwork.
"What did you do?" Emma demanded again, raising her hands up to touch her face.
Regina slapped her hand away. "Do not touch them," she growled. "I fear their power may already be too weak to protect you."
"If this is all we got, we're fucked," Emma commented, gesturing towards her face.
"Oh that's only half of the puzzle, dear," Regina replied.
The roar of the creature came again, much closer this time. Regina leaned forward and pressed her lips to Emma's forehead. "You have the queen's favor," she promised, as Emma felt something hard and metallic appear between them. She grasped it, pulling it out of seemingly nowhere, and holding it aloft.
It was the first time that Emma had ever held a sword in her hands, and she'd drawn it out of the heart of Regina Mills. Its handle felt warm and comforting under her fingers, the leather there worn and stained with the sweat of what had to be many battles. Emma stared at it for a long moment before testing the weight. Her dreams, whether she liked it or not, had prepared her for this moment.
"You wouldn't happen to have a gun in there would you?" Emma asked, peering down at the smooth skin underneath the mayor's blouse. A button had popped out of place, revealing more skin than Emma was accustomed to and she felt a heat rise to her face that had very little to do with the terror she still felt at the beast's approach.
Regina glanced down and pulled her shirt closed. Scowling, she retorted, "Be grateful I have anything at all, Ms. Swan."
Behind them, the beast roared and Emma grasped the sword tighter to her chest. She didn't know how to use the sword. Dreams were just that, dreams. She had no practical knowledge of how to do this.
She had to protect Regina, the Mayor – the Evil Queen? She'd get back to getting the answer to that question later. Henry was going to be so mad that she'd done magic and he hadn't been there to glare accusingly at his mother while judging her for whatever wrong she had done to him. "Stay here," she said with a glare that had no real menace behind it. Her hand touched Regina's shoulder, fingers brushing against the smooth silk of her blouse.
At that moment, Emma had a million things she wanted to say. The thoughts of all of them vanished as the beast behind her roared once more. The sword felt a welcome and comforting weight in her hand and Emma launched herself over the fallen tree towards the beast.
She couldn't think of how this would look later, when she was inevitably found, mauled to death with a sword in hand and blood smeared in strange patterns across her face. Graham would probably write her off as unstable and she was sure that Regina would tell Henry something similar. The woman was far more complicated than Emma had ever imagined.
How had this creature come into existence, how had the ash that had been in that damn urn somehow created it? What was Mr. Gold trying to kill them?
That was probably the most pressing and relevant question, in Emma's mind.
Her boots slid in the damp earth as she tried to get her footing. She was half-running, half-falling down the hill. Her arm dragged the sword behind her, tip nearly falling into the earth. Emma didn't need to test the blade to know that it was wickedly sharp.
She had been given a blessing that she understood to the very core of her being. Regina had offered her something that had never seemed possible to Emma before that moment. A blessing - favor - Emma didn't know what to call it, but she sure as hell was going to embrace it for the time being.
The wolf-like creature crashed through the trees and Emma ran to meet it. She was filled with a powerful desire to protect what was dear to her - this beast a threat to the town and to Henry. She would face it head on and defeat it because that was what had been asked of her by one of noble blood.
The claws on the beast looked more like a cat's than a dog's, slashing forward with razor sharp precision as Emma dodged and rolled out of their way. The thing was the size of a horse, all teeth and claws and the stench of dying things around it. Emma countered with the sword as best she could, battering away at the beast's paws whenever it got close enough to attack.
This couldn't be happening. The beast was too powerful, too unnatural to exist on earth. Emma set her jaw and charged forward, sword above her head as she swiped downwards and across - desperate to draw blood.
The sword connected with the soft flesh of the beast's shoulder and it fell back, letting out an almost indignant howl. Emma paused, sword held ready to thrust forwards into the beast's heart. Her blood was pounding in her ears, so loudly she could scarcely hear the sounds of the beast before her. She lunged forward and found herself hitting hard against claws and a paw that packed more kick than a mack truck.
Breath gone from her lungs, Emma was thrown backwards across the forest floor. The beast advanced, snarling low in its throat as Emma tried to dig her heels into the dirt and push herself back. She couldn't breathe, no matter how hard she tried to force air back into her body.
Her mind felt fuzzy and she was sure that she was at least a little bit concussed by the force of the blow the beast had delivered to her. No matter what she did she could not force herself to focus, her mind was moving so sluggishly that Emma was sure that this would be the first and only sword fight she'd ever participate it. She was at peace with that, she just had to protect the queen.
Something hard connected with her back and Emma felt panic grip her realized that she'd backed herself into a tree. The beast pressed forwards, lunging and Emma could barely find the energy to raise the sword to protect herself.
Just as suddenly as the attack came, it stilled. The coppery smell of blood filtered down and Emma's nostrils flared. Emma cracked an eye open to stare the beast dead in the face - ferocious-looking teeth just inches from her neck.
Her arm hurt from the exertion of what she'd just done, and Emma felt her mouth drop open as the life left the beast's eyes. "Oh," she muttered, watching with tired eyes as the beast tipped, sword impaled through the underside of its jaw. Emma let it drop, watching with hazy eyes as the beast rolled over onto it's back, sword sticking upwards, an awkward fifth leg.
The beast's body seemed to shudder once, before it seemed to crumple in upon itself. Fur, bone and teeth returned to the black and gray ash that had been in the urn to begin with. Emma watched as the sword that she'd used to slay the beast seemed to glow a pure white before it sank down into the ground – standing stark upright. It was the lone reminder of what had happened here.
Emma blinked the blood from her eyes. It smelled of copper and sulfur - of the magic she barely remembered from her dreams. Her hands swiped at the cut on her forehead, but her fingers could not connect to skin. The swirl of Regina's blood on her cheek burned, before fading away into nothingness. Emma let her hand drop, head tilting back to rest against the tree trunk.
The sky above them was clearing, night was falling. Emma could see the reds and purples of the sunset illuminating the clouds overhead as the trees swayed in the breeze.
She felt hands on her face, gently slapping, trying to keep her awake. Emma wanted to keep her eyes open, but the effort was too much. Her eyelids felt like weight of the world was on them, and she half-heard Regina's voice calling her name. Not Ms. Swan, not Deputy, just Emma. It sounded good, coming from Regina's lips, Emma thought.
A contented smile drifted across Emma's face at that last conscious though as she passed out. Regina had called her by her name.
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Did you know, did you know?
The Dark One will tell you that names hold power. The enable a noble to command a commoner, they provide intimacy in a way that is understood and yet not understood among men. It is the most powerful gift, to give a name freely.
The White Knight never knew what she was giving away to the Queen Who Stole Hearts.
Have you heard, have you heard?
Annnnnnnnnd we have veered into mad crazy AU! Graham was initially going to die in this, dropping the urn to unleash the wolf monster - but I decided that he would live to die another day. I wanted - needed - Regina to be the one to unleash the monster so that it could be of her own doing. The whole situation is entirely her fault - which will translate better later on.
A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed the story up to this point. You guys are all amazing and awesome!
Next: The Secret and The Oath
