Here it is: the last chapter! It's been so fun writing this, so thank you so much for reading and for all your reviews!

"Killian, what is it?"

He gulped. "Your ears…They weren't...pointed last night, were they?"

She was taken aback. "Uh, no." Her ears were perfectly round, thank you very much. To verify that, she reached up to trace the shell of her lobes.

What the hell? Where normally they would curve back down, they made a point, the same as Killian's. She sat up as panic set in and started tracing her birthmark with her thumb, hoping it would calm her. How do my ears just randomly change shape?

He followed her up shortly, still with a confused look on his face. "Don't freak out…" Well, that's not a good way to keep me calm. "...But...you have wings, now, too."

"What?!" She tried to turn around to look, but that of course was fruitless. Gently, he reached behind her, and she felt a tug on her shoulder blade that accompanied the sight of him with a wing in hand (a gorgeous wing, at least: a dappled green with gold highlights, patterned and shaped similarly to a monarch butterfly). If she needed any more confirmation, she could feel the warmth of his hand on her new appendage, and they fluttered in reaction to her shock. "Do you still have yours?" He answered with a few beats of his own.

She was speechless. What the hell is going on? was her only thought, and she was pretty sure she'd rub her birthmark clean off.

He moved to kneel in front of her. "Emma, we'll figure this out," he said quietly as he took both her hands. "There has to be some reason why it worked in reverse. Is it such a bad thing though?"

She looked at his face, and the happy crinkles at the corner of his eyes. He had a point. "No, I guess not; it's just...a lot to take in."

"I imagine." His thumbs traced the back of her hands in a soothing pattern, before moving inside her wrists and pulling them to his mouth to place kisses there. He stilled a moment when looking at the left one.

"Emma, what's this?"

"My birthmark?" He was studying it closely. "I've had it my whole life."

"Impossible…" he breathed, staring at it.

"What is?" She didn't know if she was more curious or concerned by his attention to it.

He looked her dead in the eye. "Emma, this is the lyon flower—the symbol of one of the fae royal families."

"...What?" She was really getting tired of saying that this morning, but apparently it was the word of the day.

"Oh, that must be why you hang out with werewolves."

"WHAT." (Last time, I swear.)

"Granny and Ruby. You didn't know?"

"No! Why would I know that? I found out fae were real a week ago and now you're telling me werewolves are, too? How did you even know?"

"I told you: non-humans can recognize each other."

She thought back to his and Granny's initial reaction to each other at the diner; it suddenly made sense. "Wait, that wasn't some kind of turf war with Granny, was it? Do I have to worry about her actually eating you? Versus, you know, metaphorically eating you up because she thinks you're physically delicious?" (Panic always brought out the word vomit.)

He chuckled. "No. We may not all be friends, but we're allies. But fae royalty in particular is close with certain wolf clans. Have been for centuries."

No wonder she felt so at ease around Killian—she'd been around supposedly mythological creatures her whole life and never knew it. Granny's monthly "girls retreats" made a lot more sense now.

But...fae royalty? "So...are you saying I might be descended from some royal family?"

"It's a possibility. I got the feeling your Granny knows more than she's letting on. We should have a chat with her; what do you say?"

Emma could only nod and let him help her up to standing. In a daze, she gathered her clothes up and dressed as she attempted to process everything Killian was telling her. It all sounded unbelievable, but given all the other crazy stuff she'd seen, her limits of belief were being continuously stretched.

So was her shirt, apparently; even flexible cotton couldn't accommodate wings. "So, um, how do I put these things away?"

He chuckled at her predicament, watching her with her shirt stuck around her neck. "Just tell them to hide."

She closed her eyes and shouted it in her head. But when she looked again, they were still there. "Any other suggestions?"

"I've always visualised folding them away."

She tried that, imagining the beautiful gossamer folding like origami to her skin. This time when she checked, they were nowhere to be seen, but she could feel them just under her shoulder blades, like an itch that could only be scratched when they were freed. It wasn't exactly comfortable, and while she figured she'd get used to it, she had a whole new level of sympathy for Killian.

Minutes later, they were fully clothed (he back in that modern look she'd never tire of—seriously, high five to whoever told him about skinny jeans) and on their way out. She noticed the distinct lack of magic in the surrounding forest the same as always, but now felt somehow more in tune with the rest of the woods and the subtle power there. It was like the trees parted for her, too, and not just because Killian asked them.

Outside the diner, she was more nervous than she'd been in years; not since she was a teenager in front of the judge. But this time—as she was reminded, with a squeeze of the hand in hers—she wasn't alone.

"You can do this, love." She nodded, took a breath, and opened the door.

The only person she saw in the diner was Graham, seated at the counter; immediately, some new sense went off, and there was something different about him that she'd never noticed before—yet a not entirely unfamiliar vibe.

She whispered to Killian, "Is he a…"

"Werewolf," he murmured back with a nod.

"Yup," Graham confirmed, not even looking up from his coffee but clearly not needing any extra focus to pick up even their hushed voices. No wonder Ruby and I never got away with anything as kids; how could we if Granny has hearing like that? He glanced over to them and, with a smirk, said, "Glad you finally did it."

Both Emma and Killian shifted uncomfortably where they stood, even though they threw shy smiles at each other; yeah, they did "it," but it wasn't like the whole world needed to know.

Any awkward tension was broken a second later when Ruby barged out of the back, took one look at Emma, gave a yell that was probably closer to a howl, and then nearly leapt over the counter to hug her. While caught in said embrace, Emma's sixth sense went off again, but it wasn't something she hadn't felt before; she had always just assumed she was in tune enough with her foster sister to know when she was near and not that it was some preternatural sense.

"I bet you have a lot of questions." Granny's voice broke up their hug.

"Uh, yeah." That was an understatement.

"Well, grab a booth. I'll explain everything over breakfast. And Happy Birthday, Emma."

She thanked Granny and took Killian to the big corner booth, having a feeling that this would be a discussion everyone wanted to hear. Moments later, Granny came back with a heap of Emma's favorite chocolate chip pancakes and a steaming mug of hot cocoa—the largest she'd ever seen (and she was definitely going to need it). Ruby followed with pancakes for everyone else, and they all tucked into the booth. Emma scooched closer to Killian, hip to hip, needing to feel his presence. She took a big gulp of hot chocolate, swallowed, and then turned to Granny. "So why did I go to sleep human and wake up fae?"

"Well, you didn't even go to sleep a human."

She nearly did a double take. "I didn't?"

"You've never been one."

Emma thumbed her birthmark again before setting her wrist on the table and tugging back her sleeve so it was visible to all. "Killian told me this is a symbol of fae royalty. Does that...mean something?"

"Smart boy," Granny nodded at Killian. "Yes. You, my dear," she said, placing her hand over Emma's, "are the lost princess of the fae realm of Misthaven."

Nothing came from Emma's lie detector. Deep down, she knew it was absolutely true—it had to be. And somewhere inside, it felt like some empty spot inside her heart—the part where her family should be—was starting to fill up.

To her surprise, Killian sucked in a breath next to her. "What is it?" she asked, once the revelation sunk in.

"I...I'm from Misthaven."

"Oh, shit, you're not my cousin, are you?"

He shook his head with a chuckle. "No; my family isn't royal, and unless Liam married in, we never would be."

Granny snorted. "Well, you are now."

Emma tilted her head in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Sighing, Granny pointed at Emma's pancakes. "You may as well eat up; this is gonna take a while."

Emma and the rest obliged as Granny began her story:

"Many years ago, I was a friend of Queen Ava of Misthaven, and my daughter Anita was close with the princess, Snow White. Eventually, the girls grew up, and Anita ran off to another pack while Snow stayed in Misthaven, assuming the crown when Ava died. A bit later, Snow married David, who was a commoner but had helped her in a moment of need, and they fell in love.

"Somewhere in the farther reaches of the kingdom, the Dark Fae Queen Regina had set her sights on the throne, and decided that Snow—her niece—would be the one she took it from. But the throne was protected by the deepest fae magic, ensuring that only the purest hearts of the family line could assume it. For Regina to have any claim to it, she would need the blackest of magic. A wizard helped her with that, though, and provided her a curse that she enacted, casting the entire realm into a deep slumber.

"But there was a loophole in the curse in the form of a prophecy, and a pixie on the High Court of the Enchanted Forest found out and informed the royal couple: their child would be the one to break it on the eve of her 28th birthday, when she found her one true love. The King and Queen hated to give up their daughter, but when she was born, they marked her with their kiss and then entrusted her to me with the plan that I would raise and guide her until the day she was to break the curse.

"Some of the fae that were more practiced in magic created a spell that would disguise the princess as a human until then and take us—the baby, myself, and Ruby, who had come into my care after her mother died—to the human realm. We were supposed to live here, raise you, and help you find the one would help you break the curse, prophesied to be another cast-out from the realm.

"But the Dark Fae Queen found out, and tampered with the spell, which separated you from us. That's why you ended up in the States and why it took so long for us to find you. But we did, and, well, now we're here. And I believe you just broke a curse."

Emma was completely speechless. Curses, spells, wizards, evil, true love? It was truly the stuff of a storybook and yet, apparently, it was her life. She couldn't deny that it made sense, but it was a little overwhelming.

Somewhere, she had parents—who hadn't wanted to give her up.

She had a kingdom, a home, waiting for her.

And, apparently, she'd found her one true love. She didn't know which was going to burst first from all this: her head of her heart. This must have been how Harry felt when Hagrid found him on his birthday.

At some point during the explanation, she had grabbed Killian's hand; his squeeze let her know he was still there and pulled her from her reeling thoughts.

"Emma, are you alright?" he asked quietly.

She swallowed, thinking, and realized that—ultimately—she was. "I need to absorb this but...yeah," she concluded with a slow smile.

"You're not mad we kept it from you?" Ruby asked, seemingly taken aback by Emma's calm reaction.

"I wouldn't have believed it if you'd told me. I am curious how you've hidden being a wolf all this time, though."

"Magic cloak. Granny brought it from home and made me use it in Boston. Can you imagine the havoc I'd have wreaked?"

"Oh God. Especially when the Sox won the Series." They shared a laugh, but Emma did have another question. "So is that why you moved back here? To get me to break the curse?"

"In part," Granny answered. "It's also much easier to be a wolf here, and I wanted Ruby to experience that. Hell, I missed it."

Once the floodgates were open, all the questions came. "So all those stories you told us growing up...those were all true?"

"Every one."

"Even the one about the wolf girl who ate the guy who attacked her?"

"Not my finest moment, but yes."

"What did you mean by 'marked with a kiss'?"

Granny tapped on Emma's wrist. "That's no normal birthmark. Your parents put that there so they'd always be close to you. And it was damn handy in making sure we got the right kid when we found you."

No wonder it had always brought Emma comfort; she smiled at the mental image of her parents—whatever they looked like—kissing a tiny infant wrist.

One more thing was really bugging her: "So if I was supposed to find my true love, another fae, then why did you warn me against the woods and the gancanagh?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't listen." Emma snorted; ain't that the truth.

A silence settled over the table as all these revelations soaked in. "So...now what?" Emma wondered aloud.

"Right now, you finish those pancakes. Then," Granny continued with a smile, "we talk about taking you home."

Home. That was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. As much as she felt at home with Killian, or Granny and Ruby, she'd never even considered having more than that. She was already feeling more blessed than she deserved; she'd need a bit to calm down before she was ready for more.

She glanced at Killian; he had the same concern written in the furrow of his brow. After so long on his own, she could only imagine the thoughts running through his head right now.

"Is it okay if we hold off a bit on the 'going home' thing? I'm kind of at maximum capacity right now."

"Of course, girl. We'll be here when you're ready." Granny gave her a comforting pat on the hand before sliding out of the booth so she and Ruby could attend to the customers who had trickled in.

Reluctantly, she let go of Killian's hand so she could eat, giving him a small smile before starting back on her pancakes.

They ate in silence for a few moments, but he still seemed on edge; the tension was evident in the hunch of his shoulders. Something was bugging him, but she didn't want to discuss it here. Nudging him with her elbow, she quietly asked, "Hey, can we go to the meadow after this?"

"Of course, love," he softly replied with a halfhearted smile. It was going to bug her until they talked, so she scarfed down the rest of her (delicious) birthday breakfast and grabbed a couple sack lunches while he politely finished his meal. She had to laugh a bit at that; despite their similarities, they were quite opposite when it came to manners—how the universe had seen fit to pair them was still a bit of a mystery, but she wasn't going to complain.

She gave her goodbyes to Granny, saying they'd be back later, and they returned to the forest. She now had no trouble navigating whatever space-time continuum led them to the meadow, and she was able to enter without his lead this time. The closer they got, the more she could feel her wings itching under her skin; it was unexpectedly refreshing to free them once they were within the meadow's magical barrier.

He gave a warm smile at the sight, but she could still see that something was plaguing him. "So are you going to tell me what's wrong now?"

His smile shifted from genuine to put-on. "Nothing is wrong," he lied, taking a few steps to close the distance between them and rest his hands on her hips. She responded with raised eyebrows, crossed arms, and a look that told him she knew he was holding back; he sighed hung his head. "It's...while I'm more than happy to hear that I'm your one true love...I don't want you to feel any obligation to stay with me due to destiny."

She was nearly knocked breathless and faltered backwards; her wings were involuntarily fluttering to match her suddenly panicked heartbeat. Does he really not want to stay together now? "Are...are you trying to break up with me?"

"Oh heavens no, Swan—never. But given my past, and the fact that you're a princess…"

"Killian, I have to stop you right there." She couldn't believe he was doubting this, but nearly gave a sigh of relief that he wasn't trying to end things. Placing a hand on his chest, she continued. "I chose you before I knew any of that, and I'd choose you again in a heartbeat. From the sounds of it, that is what broke the curse—I loved you before, and I still love you."

His cheeks flushed pink and he looked at her through his thick lashes. "I love you, too, Emma."

"Good." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Because I don't know one damn thing about the fae realm, and I'll need someone there to show me around."

"You're sure about going there?" It sounded like he had fears about that, too, based on the tone of his voice, but he'd still managed to see her own.

"No, not completely. But I have to at least give it a shot, right?" That was really as far as she'd gotten. She needed to at least try to meet her parents.

"Whatever you want, Emma. I'm just...worried I won't be able to follow you in."

She scoffed a bit. "If what Granny says is true, then I'm a princess; you shouldn't have any trouble getting in with me, right?"

"And if it still doesn't work?" She saw the same fear in his eyes she felt just yesterday when he was the one attempting to pass through.

"Then I'll find my parents, or whoever, tell them about the amazing guy I met, bite my thumb at their rules, and come right back to you."

He smiled at her own version of his words, visibly relaxing, and she rose up on her toes to give him a quick kiss.

"So, now that that's settled, how about you tell me how these wings work?"

They both giggled a bit. "Just think happy thoughts, love."

"Really? I thought that was how pixie dust worked."

"Aye, it is," he said with a laugh. "But there's some truth to it: the more your heart races, the faster your wings beat, I'm sure you've noticed. So I suppose I just need to get your heart racing," he instructed, his voice seductively lowering.

She closed her eyes as he pulled her tight to him and began placing kisses on her neck; the softness of his lips paired with the scratch of his scruff on her sensitive skin had her going in no time, and she could feel the spike in her heart rate matched by her wings.

She was getting so lost in his ministrations that she hardly noticed what else was going on until his soft chuckle signified that he was no longer kissing her. She moaned in protest but was only met with his whisper. "Open your eyes."

She did, looking up to meet his, but was only met with blue sky and sunshine. Glancing down, she saw Killian a foot or so below where he normally should be, smiling. His hands were still on her hips, but then he let go and stepped back and she could see that her feet were definitely not on the ground anymore.

She shrieked and fell on her butt. "Ow."

He laughed and helped her up. "Not bad for your first time."

She grumbled at him a bit—"Yeah, well, not all of us were flying before we could walk"—but once she was back upright, she realized: I was FLYING.

She was determined to do it on her own this time. Okay, happy thoughts, Emma. She focused on hot chocolate with cocoa, the way the meadow smelled, sunrise on the ocean, but she inevitably kept coming back to Killian: how she'd managed to find this amazing man to love, and who loved her in return (and oh man, did he love her). It was like in the Grinch: she swore she felt her heart swelling and beating with love for him, and when she dared to open her eyes again, she was even higher off the ground.

"Fantastic, Swan! I knew you could do it!" Killian was beaming up at her, pride and love shining in his eyes. She was probably blushing but she didn't really care. "Go on; try it out!" he yelled at her, gesturing around the meadow.

Oh yeah, moving. That's the whole point of flying, right? Floating was one thing, but this would be something else. She leaned forward a bit from her perch in the sky, and it worked: she nudged forward. So she leaned farther forward, and then farther, until she was basically horizontal and soaring around the meadow, small though it may be. She instinctively banked before she hit the trees and continued around. It was an incredible feeling: she'd never been much of a thrill-seeker, but she'd enjoyed her fair share of roller coasters growing up. This put them all to shame—it was exhilarating, even on this small scale.

In the middle was Killian, still grinning at her in awe. She tried to make her circle smaller and move toward him, but then she realized that she had no idea how to come down. Shit shit shit. So instead of gracefully landing on two feet in front of him, it was more of a graceless football tackle.

He hit the ground with an "uf!", though whether that was from impact or her weight on top of him, she wasn't sure.

"I'm so sorry, Killian! Are you okay?" She quickly sat up on her knees, pulling him up with her.

"I'm fine, love," he breathed as she checked him over for bruises or anything broken, making sure his wings were still as intact as they had been pre-collision. "I promise, I'm fine."

She looked back in his eyes and saw that he was more amused than anything, then sighed in relief as she sat back in his lap. She wrapped her arms below his and dug her face into his neck; she knew she couldn't hurt him as a human, but the thought that she might have as fae had freaked her out for a moment.

"Do you want to know what my happy thought was just then?" she murmured.

He hummed in question.

"You," she stayed matter-of-factly, placing a kiss on his neck. In response, his arms wrapped tight around her waist and she could feel his breath on her own neck.

"You'd be mine, too, Emma."

They just sat there a minute, breathing in each other and the moment, fingers gently tracing the other's back and wings flapping contentedly.

Well, wing for Killian. Her fingers gently traced his mangled left one, all its odd angles and edges feeling so rough in comparison to the cool strength of the other.

She remembered how easily he fixed her ankle last night; maybe I can repay the favor.

"Can I heal your wing?"

He stiffened at her request, sitting up straighter. Then he gently pulled her up so he could look at her; he was smiling softly. "Oh, Swan; it means more than you'd know that you want to, but I'm afraid you can't."

"Why not?" Should have known there'd be some rule against it.

"The wizard who hurt me used a magic blade. Not much can physically harm a fae, but certain enchanted objects can, and he had one."

"What a bastard."

"Aye."

She couldn't imagine not sharing the experience of flying with him at least once. And got an idea. "Come on," she told him as she stood; now it was her turn to pull him up.

"Where are we going?" he asked, somewhere between amused and confused.

"You'll see," she teased with a smile, folding her wings away as she led him out of the meadow.

Quickly, she brought him to his cliff, and assessed the bit of coast below them and the ocean ahead. Perfect.

It was probably a little silly, but she was feeling a bit invincible today.

"What are we doing here, Swan?"

"You told me you always wanted to fly on the ocean, right?"

"Yes..." he answered, cocking his head as he tried to figure out what she was up to.

"Let's give it a shot." She grabbed his hand and squeezed.

"You sure? It's far more likely that we end up in the waves than over them."

"Then I guess we'll have to dress for the occasion." She closed her eyes, concentrating, and they were briefly covered in green smoke—her magic. When it cleared, they were dressed for the water: she wore a plain red bikini that made his eyes go wide as he took it in; he was in blue plaid swim trunks hung low on his hips, showing off his muscled chest and arms.

"I have to admit, I quite like your idea of swimwear."

"Thought you might. Now, do you trust me?" she asked as she stepped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Of course." He had to look at her over his shoulder.

She freed her wings and hopped up on his back, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Okay then. I need you to run off that cliff."

"Are you mad?" he exclaimed.

"You said you trusted me," she teased back with a chuckle. "What's the worst that could happen?"

She must have made enough of a point because he sighed, hung his head, then took a step back before sprinting to the edge.

Breathing him in and feeling his muscles move beneath her was more than enough to get her pulse (and wings) going, so when the ground gave way to air, she was soaring.

Correction: they were soaring. She held tight onto Killian as they caught a breeze and glided along it, flying out over the ocean. It was probably more of a guided descent, but Killian's whooping at the air whipping past them was all the same.

Gravity was catching up to them, she could tell, so she held her wings still as she banked to bring them a little closer to land—they'd gone out much farther than expected, and thankfully no one had seen them.

"Hold on," she whispered when they neared the surface and tilted so they'd enter the water shoulder-first. The cold ocean was a shock compared to the relatively warm air, and she grabbed tight to Killian while holding her breath.

Thankfully, he quickly kicked up, swimming easily to the surface despite the way she was wrapped around him like a koala. They broke through with a gasp, and he turned in her hold to look at her.

They were both still catching their breaths, so words wouldn't come, but she could see the exhilaration written in the sparkle of his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks as he grinned. "That was bloody amazing, Swan," he gasped. "You're bloody amazing."

She blushed. "I just had to try."

"And I'm glad you did. I haven't flown in so long; thank you."

"Well, it wasn't flying so much as falling...with style. But you are more than welcome."

She pushed his wet hair out of his eyes, which here seemed to match the sea in both color and depths more than usual. His hands were hot on her waist in contrast to the cold water, the same as the heat in his gaze, and the fact that she'd gone even this long without kissing him was unfathomable to her.

So she promptly rectified that, pulling him to her by his neck, chests and mouths colliding simultaneously. Warm tongues and cool lips met hastily and hungrily while they tread water and Emma was starting to understand the mermaid fantasy (and wondering just how many more she might live with Killian—as if her entire life wasn't already one).

They only broke apart when Emma's lips began chattering. "Wait, fae still get cold?"

"'Fraid so," he said, chuckling through his own shivers. "Come on, let's warm you up."

"I like the sound of that," she joked as they swam back to the coast.

Rather than bringing their clothes back, Killian conjured a blanket and wrapped it around both their shoulders, keeping them close as they made their way up the path in the cliff side. She was sure they looked like any cheesy, so-in-love couple as they walked side by side, but she absolutely did not care.

(That and she was more than enjoying the view of his bare chest, his hair plastered to it, and the way he flinched whenever her thumb hit a certain spot on his side. Who knew her beautiful fae was ticklish?)

The sun was beginning its descent once they got back to the meadow and despite the lunch she packed (and forgot about), they decided to head back to Granny's for the night, and quickly dressed before heading back.

Granny raised an eyebrow at their wet appearance but made no comments; just sat them down with dinner and regaled them with more tales of her life—some Emma had heard, some she hadn't.

Eventually, Granny started to talk about Emma's parents. Their love story was another that Emma had grown up with, but hadn't thought of as more than a fairy tale:

Once upon a time, a beautiful princess had been cast out by her jealous aunt. Forced to wander the woods and hills alone, she got very good at fending for—and defending—herself. She survived quite well on her own until she ran afoul of a shepherd boy while stealing some eggs. He demanded payment; she told him to shove it. But he was insistent, and suggested a kiss as payment. Exasperated, she agreed; but then she found that his were lips she always wished to kiss. They fell in love, and together took back her kingdom, living happily ever after.

The happily ever after part clearly was a work in progress, but Emma had always loved the story of the badass princess made stronger by love.

As she heard Granny recount their other adventures—fighting trolls, battling a medusa, and tales of True Love's Kiss—Emma felt a pit of doubt grow in her stomach: what would they think of her? An ex-con who had been too jaded to love until a few days ago? Who was skeptical of so much?

This was part of why she'd had so few personal relationships to begin with: fewer people could let you down, and you could let fewer people down. (Even though it had been years, those first few foster homes she could remember had left their mark.)

She continued to smile, nod, and laugh at Granny's stories, but it was becoming harder to do so as the night went on.

Killian was living up to his title of fairy godpirate; he must have picked up on her crisis of self doubt, because it wasn't long before he gave an exaggerated yawn, which she inevitably echoed (curse you, science!). "I believe it's been a long day and we should turn in. Allow me to escort you back to your room, Emma?"

(It would never cease to amuse her how much he turned on the charm in front of Granny.)

He hesitated when they got back to her room; she could tell he wanted an invitation but didn't want to seem too forward by requesting one and was awkwardly scratching behind his ear. "Come on," she said, chuckling as she unlocked the door and beckoned him in.

She shrugged off her jacket and tossed it on the room's armchair while he closed and locked the door behind him. And of course, he didn't wait a moment to begin his interrogation. "My turn to ask, Swan: what's bothering you?"

She swallowed, knowing there was no chance of lying it away. "What if I'm not enough for my parents?"

"Oh, Emma," he gushed, stepping forward to take her hands. "Weren't you listening to Granny's story? They sent you away because they loved you so much."

"But that was when I was a baby. What about now? Who would want a broken criminal of a daughter?" She could feel tears starting to fall as the fear of rejection, which she thought was long-buried, came back to the forefront.

"Oh, my love." He pulled her into his embraced and brushed her tears away with a thumb. "First off, let your parents make their assumptions before you make them for them. And second, I have a feeling they'll be impressed by the strong, fierce, beautiful woman you grew into."

She smiled through her tears (well, tried to), and leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. "I guess I am a bit nervous about going back."

"I know. I am, too."

"You're not happy to?"

"I am, but I have similar concerns. I haven't seen my brother in years; I can only imagine what he'd have to say about my actions since then. But," he continued, nudging her chin from his shoulder to look at her, "there's no way of knowing now and therefore little sense in worrying."

She nodded. She often forgot how many more years he'd lived than her, but it showed in moments of wisdom like this. She hugged him again, partly to show gratitude and partly just to be close.

After a moment, he shifted his weight. "I suppose I, ah, should be going," he murmured in her ear.

"Stay," she whispered back, though her tone was more command than request.

"As you wish."

It wasn't long before they were kissing, and then she was pushing off his jacket as he backed her toward the bed. When her knees hit the mattress, she fell back and pulled him down with her by his collar. She would have been content to resume their previous activities, but he had rolled off to her side and was suddenly awe struck by...something.

"Killian, what is it?"

"What's in this mattress?"

"Springs…" It wasn't even that fantastic a mattress, but she suddenly realized: he slept in a meadow; of COURSE he'd never felt a spring mattress.

Adorably, he shifted his weight around, rolling side-to-side and bouncing up and down. He gave a childlike grin at her over his new discovery. "This is incredible!"

She gently laughed at his glee. "Usually when the springs are creaking like that, it's because other stuff is going on."

"Other stuff?"

"I think you know what I mean."

(Oh, he definitely did.)

Later, spent and sated (and after she was pretty sure she heard the blunt end of a broomstick from the floor below), she was tucked into his arms and fading fast. The only thing keeping her awake was his open eyes, still shining a pale blue even in the minimum moonlight that came through the curtain.

"You okay there?"

"Aye; this is just the first time I've gone to bed without being able to see the stars."

"Oh. Well, then." She closed her eyes and focused, imagining the clear, starry sky from the other night. A moment later, his sharp intake of air told her it had worked: when she opened her eyes back up, the ceiling was dotted with tiny balls of light that mimicked the constellations. "How's that?"

"It's beautiful, love; just like you." His eyes were wide and just as starry in the gentle glow emitted from the "sky".

She hummed in contentment, and was glad it wasn't bright enough for him to see the blush on the pointed tips of her ears. "Good night, Killian. I love you."

"I love you too, Emma."

They both ended up waking before dawn, likely due to nerves despite the previous evening's more arduous activities. Ruby and Granny hadn't even woken yet, so they dressed, snuck down to the kitchen, and hoped no one would notice the bagels she'd stolen, or the missing thermoses filled with hot chocolate with cinnamon.

She and Killian made their way to the cliff, taking their time. The forest looked especially magical in the faint pre-dawn light, each dew drop reflecting it as if illuminated from within. When she hit a low branch with her shoulder, she swore the little droplets danced their way down to the forest floor.

Killian laid a blanket down on the cliff's edge, and they sat in comfortable silence, sipping on cocoa and watching the sun slowly paint the sky with it's lazy, hazy rainbow of colors before it would go back to hide behind Ireland's ever-present clouds.

As they watched the horizon and listened to the sea crash on the rocks below, she took a moment to observe him. He looked so at peace and in his element, with his wing gently flicking too and fro. But he must have realized she was staring, because a moment later, his eyes—so much paler in the morning light—were on her.

"What are you thinking, love?"

"Just committing this moment to memory."

"And why is that?"

"Because no matter what happens today, everything will change."

He wrapped an arm around her, careful of her wings. "How so?"

"Well, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, I'm supposed to get on a plane and fly across the ocean."

He nodded. "Or…?"

"Or we walk through that arch of trees back to the Enchanted Forest."

"There's nothing saying you have to do either of those."

"I know." She reached across his lap for his free hand. "But I realized something last night."

The arch of his eyebrow asked the question for him.

"Home isn't another realm or city. It's right here, next to you."

He gave another one of those huge grins she was seeing more and more—the kind that cut deep dimples in his cheeks and wrinkled the corner of his eyes—before gently kissing her temple. Her wings picked up speed; even these small gestures of affection warmed her to no end.

"But," she continued, "I do want to go to the fae realm."

"Okay, Swan."

"You sure that's okay?"

"Like I said: I'll follow you to the ends of the earth." (That called for a full kiss, on the lips.) "When did you want to go?"

"Today's as good a day as any, right?"

"Right you are."

The sun was almost completely risen when they left, heading back to Granny's for breakfast and to tell the old werewolf her decision. Granny insisted on making a big meal, as grand as yesterday's, in celebration; Emma had forgotten that this would be a homecoming of sorts for her, too. Even Ruby was bouncing in excitement.

She and Killian stayed connected shoulder to hip to knee as they ate their meal—waffles, to his delight—and after she grabbed a few important things from her room—mainly, the blanket she was found in as a baby, which she never traveled without—they met Granny and Ruby in the foyer.

Granny froze when she saw the blanket hanging out of Emma's bag. "You still have that?"

"Of course." Emma was suddenly self conscious of it, but also surprised—Granny knew she'd had it her whole life.

The older woman wiped a tear away. "I guess I can finally tell you that I'm the one who made it for you."

Emma couldn't help but give Granny a bear hug, and even that wasn't reaction enough for the woman who had done so much for her her whole life, apparently since even before she was born. "Thank you so much. For everything."

Granny hugged her back, but then apparently remembered her reputation and pulled back, sniffing and drying her eyes. "You ready then?"

Grabbing Killian's hand with a squeeze, Emma smiled and replied in the affirmative. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Alright, let's go. I think Mr. Not-Jones should lead; you know where to go."

"As you wish, milady."

Granny flipped the sign on the door to "CLOSED" and locked up, and then they were off. Along the way, Emma noticed that some of the trees in the forest—the old, large ones that never moved—had deep, claw-like gouges that were similar in size to the massive paw prints she was seeing on the ground all around.

"Hey, Rubes: friends of yours?" Emma joked.

"Oh, yeah, that was me and Graham. Full moon and all." In typical Ruby fashion, she was completely nonchalant about her nightly activities.

Emma recalled the howling from the other night. "Oh my God, I heard you!"

"Yeah, and I heard you. Just like college!"

Emma could only laugh; despite everything that had changed in the last two days, it was nice to see that some things never would.

It wasn't long before they reached the meadow. It looked the same as it did the last time they were there, but Emma could feel that magical thrum even more. She freed her wings with a slight sigh, still not used to the itch whenever they were covered. But she had no reason to keep them under wraps here.

Granny gasped. "Oh, Emma...they look just like your mother's."

"Really?" She'd always wondered which of her parents she got her eyes or hair from; it hadn't occurred to her that her wings might be governed by genetics, too.

"Yeah. You actually look a lot like her, darling; you'll see," Granny commented with a pat on the shoulder.

Slowly, the group approached the tree arch. Emma was still holding tight to Killian, who had also let out his wings (much to Ruby's pleasure). He was looking at her, smiling, but cautious.

"You really sure about this?"

"Definitely," she said confidently, grabbing his hand with a squeeze. "You?"

"Definitely."

"Okay. Let's do this."

She smiled as she rose up on her tiptoes, placed a chaste kiss on the lips of her one true love, glanced back at the women who raised her, and then they stepped forward, together, through the threshold to where they belonged.

(And, like in every good fairy tale, they lived happily ever after.)