Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.
Unwittingly Purchased
The Lucky Lady's Tavern, Twenty Years Prior
"I know what I have to do, but it doesn't make any of this any easier," a woman in a dark green cloak intoned, clutching the tankard in her grip angrily. Her friend, a brunette with an intense look about her, nodded in consolation.
"How did you know she has light magic?" The friend asked, leaning in closer so that only the other woman could hear her. Unfortunately, she'd misjudged her tone, and there were ears everywhere.
Sitting on the other side of the green-cloaked woman was an older woman in a long black cloak. She huddled into herself, as if too weak to sit straight. In the thin yellow light that illuminated what little of her features could be seen, her skin looked a sick, yellow color. Her nose was large and hooked, her skin sagging around the cheeks and eyes. Her hair was grey and scraggly, probably hadn't been washed in days. She appeared to be minding her own business, but it was simply a ploy.
She was there to kill the bandit Snow White, the woman in the dark green cloak. Her spies had tipped her off that the bandit had planned to renege on the deal they'd made two years ago, planned to take back her kingdom. Well, Regina couldn't have any of that. She would have to break the deal first and slaughter the bitch where she stood. But something stopped her—talk of Snow White's child.
A toddler, the product of true love. One that would be able to defeat the Evil Queen.
"The Dark One found me," Snow spat the name out, taking another swig of her drink. "He told me what I already know; the kingdom is falling apart under Regina's rule. I have to save it. But…it's not my place. It's Emma's."
The other woman took in a breath. "But…she's just a baby," she intoned, sounding appalled.
"I know," Snow replied ruefully. "He told me that, until she gained her bravery, her courage, the Evil Queen would not be defeated. Emma is the only one who can defeat her…but not until she's older."
Regina had had enough of what she was hearing. She would find the brat, destroy her before she had the chance to grow up and dethrone the Queen. Removing her disguise as she left the tavern, Regina called upon one of her lackeys. "Bring me to the shepherd's farm."
Oblivious to the Evil Queen's intentions, Snow White and her friend continued speaking.
"I don't know what I would tell David…or Ruth. I hate that it has to be this way, Red." Sighing, Snow tipped back her tankard and downed the rest of her drink. She needed to start heading out—where, she didn't know, but wherever she was heading, she needed to start going.
"We'll stay in contact," Red promised quickly, grasping Snow's hand in her gloved one. "I'll watch them from a distance."
Snow shook her head. "I don't know. I couldn't ask that of you, and I don't know if I could handle living vicariously through some letters. And…the Dark One said that if I have any part in her life, she'll never have what it takes to destroy the Queen."
"I'm not judging you," Red exhaled. "But I will write to you anyways. Even if you never read the letters, I know you'll feel better having them."
Snow closed her eyes, holding back tears. But in the end, she nodded. She could handle the letters. She would probably even need them, to get through the years, to hold out for however long it took. Without another word, Snow disappeared into the night.
At the back of the tavern, a flash of silver glittered in the darkness.
Regina observed the filth and squalor the family lived in with utter distaste. It was pathetic, what Snow White chose to live with. If she had to live such a life, Regina would've simply killed herself and ended the misery. Sneering in disgust, the Evil Queen stalked towards the cottage. Searching the pitifully bare living room, she looked around for the bandit's offspring.
There was the shepherd, sleeping on a dirty cot near the entrance to a different room. Huddled in his arms was a small child, no longer than her father's arm, with a crop of golden blonde hair sprouting from her scalp. Her face was peaceful in sleep. The innocence of childhood, the sweet scent of a dreaming child, wafted around her. The Evil Queen snorted loathsomely.
This will be too easy, she thought, reaching forward to touch the child. Just as her fingers were grazing the child's smooth forehead, Regina leaped backwards, holding back a shout of pain. Her right hand, the hand she'd been reaching with, was blackened and unmoving. There was no more pain, no feeling, just a limp, vague notion of deadness in the appendage. Quickly, Regina let a wave of healing magic pass through the hand—it didn't work.
I'll fix it later, she decided tersely, her anger spiking as she glared at the still sleeping infant. So, she couldn't touch the child? No matter, she thought as she conjured a ball of crackling flames in her palm. She moved quickly, noticing that the shepherd was waking—he'd be engulfed in the flames as well, but that was no worry of Regina's; what was one extra casualty, anyways?
She threw the ball of flames with all of her might—and screamed again as ducked past the arc of the rebounding flames.
"What the hell?!" the Shepherd exclaimed, shielding his daughter from the fire. Regina was quick to throw a sleeping spell his direction, but it didn't affect the baby. She started crying, and held her father close. Regina fled the cottage, staring at her hands in anger.
"I wouldn't try that again, dearie," a pompous voice remarked. Regina snarled, whirling around to face the imp that had appeared out of thin air.
"Rumplestiltskin! What did you do?" Regina demanded.
"There's nothing I did," He replied immediately, looking at Regina in mock offense. "That child is pure; she's innocent in every way that…well, you aren't."
Regina sneered down at him. "And what am I?" She wanted to know.
Rumplestiltskin smiled. His smile was as thick as slime, as greasy as a toad's back. "You're soul is blackened, my dear. Just like your hand. " His eyes narrowed, and his words became daggers launched sadistically at the Evil Queen. "You won't lay a finger on that child. Not for years, not until she loses some of that precious innocence. And when she does, oh," He giggled, eyes widening in mocking contentment. "You'll be sorry."
Rumplestiltskin snapped his fingers, and was gone in a flash. After a moment, the Evil Queen followed suit.
Back in her castle, Regina paced the length of her throne room.
"A child with light magic," she mused. "One that I cannot harm in any way. It's no matter," Regina turned her back to the nearest wall, paced through the dark, threatening castle, until she was in her potion's room. She'd just need to make a potion that would preserve her youth, so when she once again met Snow White, with her daughter in tow this time, she'd be better in every way.
"No," she whispered, an idea forming in her mind. "I don't need a potion…you!" Regina called forward the nearest Black Knight, who came hustling into the room as if his life depended on it. "Bring me the prettiest handmaiden in the castle. Now!"
Yes, she thought, I'll take the life force from as many girls as it takes, for as long as it takes. For as long as it takes for me to get my revenge.
Now
Smee, of course, immediately told Hook of his theory that they were being tailed by Blackbeard. Hook dismissed the idea initially, but after an hour of being steadily pursued, he recanted his initial assumption that Smee was full of it.
"What kind of deal, exactly, did you make with Blackbeard?" Hook wanted to know. He'd been pacing the top deck of the Jolly Roger for the past half hour, alternately glaring at Emma and demanding things of Smee. He acted as if this were all Emma's fault.
"I didn't make any deal," Emma explained, placing a hand on her hip. "He said he would take me to the Dark One, that he'd be docked until noon the next day if I decided to come with him." She spoke confidently, without inflection, yet there was a small seed of doubt festering in her stomach.
Glancing back at the ocean, Emma stared at the approaching pirate ship. It wasn't getting any closer—Hook had assured Emma that the Jolly Roger was the fastest ship on the sea—but it was following at a steady distance. Not gaining ground, not losing ground, simply tailing. And Emma couldn't help but look back on her conversation with Blackbeard and question his eagerness to assist her. What was his ulterior motive? Surely he didn't benefit from Emma dethroning Queen Regina. So what did he gain?
There hadn't been mention of money at any one point; he hadn't insinuated Emma would have to pay him for passage, nothing had come up about any favors in return for taking Emma to the Dark One. So why would he offer her assistance, out of the apparent goodness of his heart?
There was only one explanation; Blackbeard either was gaining something from Emma defeating the Evil Queen—and Emma couldn't come up with anything a pirate like Blackbeard would gain from a change in monarchical leaders—or he'd been bluffing the entire time, and had a plan that wasn't so beneficial to Emma.
"You're lying," Hook intoned, advancing towards Emma quickly. Emma looked up, biting her lip in thought. "Or you aren't telling the whole truth."
"Something does seem fishy about his wanting to help," Emma admitted, then went on to explain the discussion they'd had. When she was finished, Hook appeared to be deliberating.
"What I don't understand," Emma continued, narrowing her eyes on the approaching ship. "Is why he would want me to come aboard his ship. What does he want from me?" I'm just a humble shepherd's daughter.
"Well, we might as well find out," Hook intoned. "Charming, follow—"
"Swan," Emma interjected quickly. "Don't call me Charming, it's Emma Swan now." She did this for two reasons; the first being that she didn't think she could handle hearing her last name, her tie to her father and family, tossed about frequently while she neglected that same family. The second being that, if something were to happen and her plan(which at that point in time wasn't a plan so much as a general idea of what Emma wanted to happen) failed, she didn't want her father or grandmother to be drawn into her mess.
She didn't know why she chose Swan; she'd always loved the majestic birds, their grace and elegance. Emma supposed that she wanted that for herself, wanted to be graceful, majestic. In truth, she was simply an ugly duckling, stumbling and bumbling about, with no real course of action to follow.
"All right, Swan," Hook substituted, nodding like he understood her reasoning without her having to even tell him. And she supposed that, of anyone, he might understand the most, considering he was known under the colorful moniker of Hook. Emma didn't think she'd ever heard his real name—Hook probably hadn't heard his real name in a while, either. "Follow me to my cabin. Smee, drop anchor."
Emma stared at the quickly approaching ship through the large windows. It was advancing eagerly, dwarfing the view of the sea as it drew closer and closer. Hook didn't speak for several minutes as he rifled through his things. Emma listened cautiously as she heard metal clang against metal, papers fluttering, and heavy items thumping around. Finally, Hook appeared to have what he was looking for. He turned towards Emma, a dangerous-looking grin on his face.
Dangerous for my heart, that is, Emma thought, recognizing that her heart wasn't beating so fast from nerves of facing Blackbeard.
"Have you any idea what to do with this?" Hook asked, handing the sword to Emma hilt-first.
Emma took it with a smirk, testing the balance easily—it was a little blade-heavy, but if it was the best he could come up with, it would do. The blade was slightly curved, dingy, and didn't look very sharp. The hilt was dingy as well, some kind of coppery metal, and looked as if it hadn't been polished in a decade.
"My father taught me the basics," Emma replied, recalling her many evenings as a young girl outside the barn with her father. Ruth would watch nervously as she tended to the sheep, and offer comments occasionally.
Her muscles would ache afterwards, she never had the right form it seemed, and she was too slow in all regards. But he was a patient teacher, and Emma had picked it up eventually. No daughter of mine will live without learning how to sword fight properly, he would say. Ruth would just laugh at him, saying that Emma was much better than David when he was her age, and it took a woman named Joan to change that.
Emma sometimes wondered if this 'Joan' woman was her mother, but the timing never fit.
"Aye," Hook intoned, weighing his own sword. "Well if it comes down to it, hopefully 'the basics' will be sufficient."
Emma nodded in agreement. Then she sighed. She never should have started this adventure.
"Something bothering you, love?" Hook asked, catching on to her sigh. Emma looked down at her feet, heard Hook drawing closer, but didn't look up.
"Other than jumping on the wrong pirate ship, only to have the right pirate ship start chasing me? Just peachy," Emma replied, rolling her eyes.
"Yes, well, nothing we can do about that now," Emma looked up, surprised that Hook was so close—within a foot of Emma. He was wearing a devilish grin, looking down at her through his lashes. "It's a pirate's life for you, Swan."
Emma never got the chance to reply. A second later, Smee was shouting down to the Captain that Blackbeard was preparing to board. Hook gave Emma one last significant look before he turned and stalked out of the cabin. Emma waited a moment, and followed behind him.
She blinked quickly against the brighter outside light. After a few more blinks, her eyes adjusted, and she eyed the scene unfolding before her warily.
Blackbeard had indeed boarded the ship, taking along with him half a dozen of the largest men Emma had ever seen. All were tattooed to varying degrees, had scraggly hair or greasy beards, and were sporting terrifyingly dangerous looks. Blackbeard stood in the middle of them, five feet away from Captain Hook, who was staring down the intruder.
"Why have you been following my ship?" Hook demanded, taking a threatening step forward.
Blackbeard cleared his throat, narrowed eyes scanning the deck. When he spotted Emma, he cocked his head and smiled.
"You have something of mine. A girl, as it would happen. Emma Charming."
I never told him my name, Emma realized. So how did he know it? "I'm not any one's," Emma negated, stalking forward so that she stood next to Hook.
"You can hand her over," Blackbeard continued as if Emma had never spoken. "Or I can take her."
"You can try," Emma taunted. Those, apparently, were the wrong words. Not a second after they left her mouth she was regretting them, because as soon as they left her lips, at least a dozen more pirates crossed from Blackbeard's ship onto Hook's.
And that's when the fighting started. Emma glanced around quickly, ready to participate—but turning her back from Blackbeard for one second was a dire mistake. She never got a chance to show her skill in sword fighting. A second after her back was turned, she felt something hard ram into the back of her skull. The last thing she saw before passing out completely was the quickly approaching deck of the Jolly Roger.
Emma blinked slowly, attempting to overcome the pain of waking up with a throbbing skull. It felt as if someone had—well, as if someone had smacked her on the back of her head with the hilt of a very heavy sword. What little sunlight that was streaming through some dirty window reached her eyes, making the pain a thousand times worse. Emma rolled onto her side to be free from the light, and realized that she was lying on a hard wooden floor.
And that she wasn't alone.
"Finally awakening, I see," came a soft, feminine voice from somewhere opposite Emma. "I thought for sure you weren't going to come to until tomorrow morning."
Emma struggled to sit upright, discovered that there was a wall behind her, and managed to prop herself against that. From there came the task of opening her eyes. Slowly at first, and then blinking, she managed to take in the room around her. She was in the brig of a ship. Blackbeard's ship, presumably.
It didn't look as filthy as it smelled; the floor was, mercifully, cleaned and mostly dirt-free. The window opposite the cell Emma was in was a port hole looking out towards the ocean. Illuminated in the light was a womanly figure. Though her cloak's hood shrouded her face in darkness, Emma could tell the woman was probably only a few years older than Emma by her youthful voice.
After a moment, the woman stepped into the light, removing her hood so that Emma could see her face. Emma had been right about the age—she looked to be in her late twenties early thirties max, but probably wasn't even twenty-nine yet. Her eyes were as green as grass, and when they focused on Emma, there was a hardened look to them. Her hair was as black as coal, her skin as white as snow, and her lips as red as a rose. Emma thought she was beautiful.
"What's going on?" Emma inquired, standing on shaky legs.
The other woman looked towards the door. Emma could heard heavy footsteps approaching. "You've been purchased by the Evil Queen. Follow my lead, I'm going to get you out of here," the woman promised, before quickly slipping her hood back on, just as the door opened.
Emma's heart began to stutter. Blackbeard entered the brig, a sleazy grin on his face. Emma glanced back at the woman who had just promised her that she would help Emma escape—but she had disappeared.
Blackbeard came to a sudden halt directly in front of where Emma stood. He hadn't taken any of his lackey's along with him, and Emma wondered what he needed to say that required solitude. She was just about to ask what the Evil Queen needed her for when, out of the blue, the hooded woman stepped out from behind a pillar, clutching a sword in her hand. Before Emma could voice her surprise, the woman had hammered the hilt of the knife soundly against Blackbeard's skull, loud enough to make a thumping noise.
Blackbeard looked confused—and then he was unconscious.
Emma stared at the hooded woman, whose white-toothed grin was the only visible part of her.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" The woman asked, sounding excited as she searched Blackbeard's pockets for the key to the cell. "Let's go!"
Author's Note: Thank you all for continuing to read! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and will continue to enjoy future chapters. I didn't plan on including the flashback, but it seemed that people wanted a bit of Snow, and the chapter would've been pretty short otherwise. So I wrote that up, hoping it would provide some answers. The idea I had going for keeping Regina at her current age (early to mid thirties I think?) is along the lines of the way the Evil Queen keeps her age in the Snow White and the Huntsman movie, by sucking years from girls. And as you just read, this somehow ends up affecting Snow White as well, and there is a reason for that.
I would like to clarify, if it wasn't clear, that Snow has no idea that Emma is her daughter at this point. She'll find out soon enough, though.
Anyways. Thank you again for continuing to read my story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
-Ashlee Frame
