The Enchanted Forest

Almost Seventeen Years into The Future


She did it. She found the bloody vault. Not that he really doubted she would. She said she would, and she never fails to do what she sets out to do. John Jacob Little tugs gently at the hand in his. It's the hand of the only worthwhile girl in all the realms; well, at least as far as he's concerned.

Pleased with her success, she clasps her hands together in front of her mouth and blows a kiss at the great foreboding stone doors of the mausoleum tucked away in an ill-traveled, nearly forgotten, patch of the wood. Brimming with an excitement that she deliberately keeps a tight rein on, she glances back at him, with a radiant smile visible on a full, voluptuous set of lips.

Laughing at the uncertainty in his eyes she tugs gently against his resistance, her blue eyes dancing merrily as her short, dark curls bob and sway gently in the light summer breeze

Tugging more insistently at his hand, she scowls and offers a lighthearted objection. "Aww, come on J.J. We found it. Don't worry. It'll be fine."

"You found it. I'm just along for the walk, and I'm not at all certain it's going to be fine."

She shrugs. "Fine then. Leave if you want. I'm going in."

J.J. shakes his head. "Oh no, I cannot leave you here. As it is, when your dad finds out about this little excursion, he's going to bloody pound on me for going along with it, but if he hears that I backed out and left you here alone, he's going to do worse than just pound on me, he's going to skin me alive."

She squints in obvious confusion. "I think you have a warped perception of just who Daddy is J.J."

"Oh no, I don't! He's a swell guy who almost never loses his cool, except for in matters concerning the welfare and safety of his baby girl!"

He gestures toward the vault; its entryway heavily overgrown with thick vines and persistent foliage that tries to push its way through even the most minuscule crack in the heavy stone walls. "It's bad enough you're here. This alone is more than dangerous, but the fact that you are meeting her here… If he finds out about that, he might just skin you, too."

She objects. "I'd much rather ask for forgiveness than permission. If this doesn't work, Daddy's going to be really, really mad at me, but he won't hurt me. Daddy would die before he hurt me. But, if it does work the way I want it to; he'll never know, and even if he does know, I guess, I'm hoping he'll be too happy to stay mad at me for very long. Hell, if it works the way I want it to, I probably won't even remember doing this."

J.J. opens his mouth prepared to offer further argument until he hears movement; the sound of leaves rustling and a twig snapping under a small delicate foot.

He turns and scowls as a young redhead scarcely older than his girl steps into view and uses long slender fingers to remove a bright cerulean colored silk hood exposing her face and her hauntingly beautiful creamy complexion. He groans inwardly as his girl, and the redhead rush to embrace with quiet enthusiasm that borders on pure joy.

"El. You made it! The brunette declares with hushed zeal.

"Well, of course, I made it." The strikingly tall redhead with a willowy, yet elegant stature ensures.

"Were you able to get off restriction."

"No, I snuck out. Dad's being impossible, I swear, go and do a tiny little thing like accidentally blow all the windows out of the house, and he totally goes apocalyptic. Never mind the fact that I put all the windows back in under ten seconds, and nobody got hurt. I mean, he acts like I swallowed the Olympian crystal or something!"

"El, you shouldn't have come. You're going to get into trouble."

The redhead waves the comment aside. "I don't care. There's no way I would miss this. You need me. Besides, 2 ½ more months, 2 ½ more months, and I will be eighteen. One second after midnight, I'm out of there! He can't keep me there after Uncle Zeus lifts the underage travel restriction on my powers. I can go to any realm or any world I want, and there's nothing he can do about it. I can hardly wait. I've been positively bored out of my mind. You can't possibly imagine how good it is to see you again."

The brunette frowns. "There's a restriction on where you're allowed to travel. You didn't tell me that. Does that mean this won't work?"

"I can't leave this realm. That doesn't mean I can't travel back and forth through time within this realm. That is assuming, of course, that we can make the time-travel spell work. I'm pretty sure it will if we combine it with the spell to call a lost witch. We're gonna have to tweak it just a teensy little bit to fit our situation, but I say it's high time we get started. We won't know one way or the other standing around out here talking about it either."

The redhead turns and looks with dire determination at the place where the vault doors should be located beneath the overgrown weeds and foliage." Are you ready?"

"I was born ready!"

J.J. sighs, resigning himself to the fact that there's no stopping his girl now. In doing so, he calls attention to himself and the willowy redhead eyes him seemingly with cool indifference. "Oh look, I see you brought the little hoodlum."

"Ginger." J.J. bows in mock chivalry."

"El, be nice."

"What? I am nice."

"You know what I mean. Don't start in on J.J."

"What, start in on. He is 19, 6 feet 4 inches tall, and approximately – what; 230 pounds? Geez relax, he can take care of himself. He can certainly handle a little bit of lip from little ol' me. Can't you little J.J?"

J.J. rolls his eyes and says nothing. He watches the girls step up to the door.

The redhead eyes the brunette. "Did you bring something of hers."

The younger of the two steps closer. When they are shoulder to shoulder, she drapes one end of the delicate black and white silk scarf around her own neck around the other girl's neck as well so they're sharing it.

Before J.J. can stop her, El removes a jewel-encrusted dagger from the inner pocket of her cloak, takes the hand of her friend and neatly slices diagonally through the center of her left palm; quick as a hiccup.

Then, while J.J. is protesting noisily, "Hey, wait just a damn minute, you bloody half-breed!" she ignores him and slices through the palm of her own right hand just as quickly and then the two girls mash their freshly bleeding wounds together and hold tight. The redhead quickly tosses a small vial of some unknown obsidian liquid against the door of the vault and thick black smoke rises the instant before the two of them place their free hands side by side against the sealed doors and began to chant in what J.J. can only assume is Elfish if not some other bloody arcane language.

Smoke rises, stone crumbles, the earth rumbles low and deep and a cloud of dust thick enough to momentarily obscure them from view billows out from the corners of the entryway as the great doors swing open on their hinges and crash loudly against the inner walls.

For a moment, not one of the trio moves. Then, once the dust settles, the girls turn to each other smiling.

"Told you it would work!"

"Na-uh I told you."

"Oh, never mind. It doesn't matter who told who. Shall we?"

The brunette reaches out, and tentatively fingers the air, double checking to make sure there are no further unseen magical barriers to forestall them. When she isn't zapped or blown backward off her feet, she squeaks quietly with a momentarily uncontainable rush of excitement and hums low and merrily, "We're off to see the wizard!"

Laughing, her redheaded companion declares drolly, "Let's hope not. If we wind up in Oz, we'll be done before we even get started."

With the reticent company of a stalwart friend, with bravado born of unspoiled youth, and with their minds unburdened by time or history, they march in, two girls on a mission. Eager one moment and pensive the next, they can't help but be subdued by the sight of a trio of marble crypts and one urn laid heavy with dust.

Less bothered than her female cohort, the redhead breathes in the stale undisturbed air as she looks around curiously. "How do we get below? I know we can, but I can't recall exactly how. Which one covers the entry?"

"Well, the last time I was in here…" The brunette pauses solemnly to think and J.J. drops a protective arm around her shoulders; squeezing them gently. "I'm not sure I remember right either. It was a long time ago. I think it was Grandmother. But then, that was Storybrooke, and this isn't. Papa was laid to rest here in the Enchanted Forest and moved over with the casting of the first curse. Then, of course, he was resurrected later. It was probably at that time that Grandmother got moved. El, can you look and see which one is which?" She folds her arms over her chest, hugging herself. "I don't think I'm ready for that just yet."

The redhead smiles sadly with quiet understanding and crosses to the left corner of the room. Wiping a heavy coat of dust away from the gold nameplate affixed to the urn that rests in the center of a freestanding pedestal just for curiosity's sake, she reads the name with an inquiring lilt to her voice. "Daniel Coulter?"

The brunette nods. "The one Cora murdered."

"Oh right, the stable hand. I forgot about him." She moves to the sarcophagus farthest from the urn and unsettles more dust to find a family crest that technically could be considered her own, but it is not the one she acknowledges. She nods. "This one is Grandmother." It makes sense to me to put your grandfather in the other corner. Just let me verify, but I'm guessing that the one in the middle…"

The brunette shakes her head as she deliberately avoids looking at the crypt resting on the far opposite side of the room from their shared grandmother's final resting place. Well – actually, she knows that isn't right. She knows her maternal grandmother is dead, but the woman is still not at rest.

"No, that's not right El." The brunette looks at the toes of her knee-high riding boots. Daddy wouldn't do that. I know why it makes sense to you, but he wouldn't have put her in the middle between the two of them. She spent most of her life caught in the middle. He wouldn't leave her to rest there. She's in the one over on the other side. So, if Grandmother is over here on this side, then Papa's got to be in the middle."

"After quickly checking the nameplates on the other two tombs the redhead nods. "Okay, you're right about that. These things look heavy. I would like not to have to move more than one if at all possible. Any idea which one the trapdoor is most likely to be under?"

"Daddy promised he'd let me come here and go through the place after I turn eighteen. He wouldn't want me moving her."

"Okay, that gives us a 50/50 chance."

The dark-haired girl squints, lost in a memory. "She told Roland once that Papa kept all her secrets - no matter how big or small - he never told."

"Yeah, honey, but would your dad remember that? Is it something that would stick in his mind? Never mind, of course, he would." She answers her own question. "He remembers everything about her. So, you think, even in death, your granddad's still guarding her secrets?"

She smiles and answers softly; barely above a whisper. "Yes, Papa would do that."

The redhead studies her friend. "You sure you wanna do this?"

"It's not a question of want to… I have to."

"There is a possibility this isn't going to work?"

"Then what have I to lose – except a few mementos, a few keepsakes."

"Things that are precious to you and your dad; not to mention your brothers. Is it worth the sacrifice?"

"How can you even ask me that? You know what it's like, El. Every time I make a wish; every single time I've ever blown out a birthday candle, every time I pitch a penny in the well, every time I flip a coin, every time I've ever blown the fuzz off a dandelion, every time a star falls… I wish for time with her. Besides Roland, you're the only person in my life who knows what that feels like. No matter how much, or how often, people tell you about them, all you wish for, all you ever hope for is the chance to know something about them - something just for yourself, something nobody else knows."

The redhead nods and shrugs at the same time. Without any further comment, she lifts her hands, arms out, palms up. Using magic, she slides the half-ton marble crypt a few feet to the left; revealing the hidden entrance below, with a quiet but spunky, "Pardon me for disturbing your rest, but shove over, Your Majesty."

J.J. clears his throat. "Remind me never to let you near my family plot."

The redhead sneers sarcastically and his girl chuckles. "No, it's alright J.J. Papa would laugh if he heard her. He wouldn't mind a little irreverence. He always said people were too apt to treat him with respect for the wrong reasons. He said, just because a person is royalty is not enough of a reason for respect. Royalty is something most people have no choice about. They're born into it whether they deserve to be or not. Respect - respect needs to be earned."

"Yeah, I know. I remember him saying that. I really miss the old guy."

"You and me both, J.J. You and me both."

She looks at the redhead and raises an eyebrow when her old childhood pal waves her forward with a dramatic flourish.

"Hey, as far as I'm concerned, this place is all yours by birthright. If anybody is going to go down the dark dusty passageway first … Well, that honor should be all yours. Go for it, cousin."

Chuckling softly, the brunette descends the steep winding stone staircase careful to focus on where she's going and resist the temptation to look back over her shoulder at her friends as she shields her head and face and pushes cobwebs out of her path.

Once on the lower landing, she turns a slow circle staring at a multitude of unseen to items invisible behind drop cloths. For a moment, she isn't sure where to start first until she spots the heavy black and silver brocade draperies pulled tightly closed along the innermost wall.

Eyeing her friends, her own bright eyes going wide and shimmering with delight, she mouths aloud, "I wonder…"

The redhead raises one perfectly arched eyebrow and lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug before nodding encouragement. "There's only one way to find out girl."

She hesitates a moment longer before making up her own mind and marching across the cavernous room; the low heels of her riding boots echoing like muted thunderclaps rolling against the ancient stone floor as she sidesteps to one corner and quickly deposits a few of her most treasured possessions – the first quiver and bow that her father ever owned. First, given to her brother, and then later, when he had outgrown them and needed something different, they were safely tucked away to await the day they would be passed down to her.

Raising her arms high overhead, she snaps back to draperies with a commanding flourish. Reaching out, she snags the drop cloth that covers a strikingly beautiful looking glass; one that is round and encased in elegant silver that streaks out in all directions.

Smiling, she places her hands on her hips and strikes a pose like a clothing model strutting a catwalk in Milan before turning and inquiring quietly, almost as if she's issuing a dare, "Mirror, mirror on the wall; show me the one I seek most of all."

When the mirror reflects nothing more than her own image back to her, she shrugs as if she's carefree and announces, "Oh well, I didn't really think it was going to be that easy anyway, but you can't blame a girl for trying."

The wide-eyed three of them spend precious moments wandering around the underground room pulling dust laden drop cloths off protected items and admiring treasured possessions or staring at oddities in wonder with their heads crooked off to the sides.

Looking casually over her shoulder, the brunette softly reminds her beau, "I wouldn't risk touching anything if I were you J.J. I don't think anything horribly bad will happen to either of us, but we're related. That makes a difference. I'd hate for you to lose any important body parts if you come across something that's been booby-trapped for the express purpose of protecting it from would-be thieves."

No sooner than she says this, a small, but noisy explosion sounds and on reflex, the young man drops a small but ornate chest filled with tightly encased vials of a thick dark liquid.

Tsk-ing and bristling slightly in mild disapproval, she hurries to him, putting out flames with nothing more than the wave of her hand and instantly healing the angry-looking, but largely inconsequential burn on both his hands. When she's done, she spins him around, gently guiding him back to stand in front of an empty expanse of wall. "Stand here, hands in pockets, touch nothing!"

J.J. nods mutely, mildly traumatized but otherwise un-stung.

Only when she's sure he's going to comply does she step away from him and open a huge armoire filled with apparel; all of it obviously meant for this world and not the world they left behind in Storybrooke all those years ago.

She shuffles through the clothing until one particular ensemble catches her eye, and she pulls it out, hanging it on the back of the armoire's door so that she might examine it from a greater distance.

"Find something you like?" The redhead approaches with curiosity in her eyes.

Smiling broadly, J.J. nearly salivates. "Umm, okay, wow! I know you said her taste in clothing was rather bold, but honey, that's not just bold… In a word, that's fearless!"

The redhead eyes her cousin and whispers conspiratorially. "Methinks he likes it!" Reaching into the armoire, she searches until she finds, and extracts, the cloak that was obviously meant to go with the combination velvet leather ensemble. Handing it over, she encourages forcefully, "Go on. Go try it on."

The brunette's eyes go wide, and she bites her lower lip and then shakes her head adamantly before inquiring, with equal parts fear and hope. "I can't; can I?"

The redhead laughs. "Of course, you can."

"I can't wear her things."

"Well, then what was the point of saving them all. If you can't wear them, I'd like to know who can. No one is more entitled than you. Go on. March! Go change behind the screen. We won't look. I won't let him peek."

Willing to be convinced, she shrugs as she surrenders the last of her doubt and steps behind the screen. Quickly pulling her blouse over her head, she declares, "Doesn't matter if he does peek. He won't see anything new."

Picking up on the untold story behind her words, her cousin gasps. "Since when? Why don't I know about this?"

J.J. squints comically in uncertainty. "Why should you know about it? It's between me and her."

The redhead ignores him. "When were you gonna tell me?"

"Whenever."

"Whenever?"

He tries again. "See, I'm still not clear on why she's entitled to know about it in the first place."

"Come on J, I tell her almost everything. She's practically my sister." The brunette hops slightly on one foot behind the screen; in the process of changing.

"You tell me almost everything?" El squints looking back and forth between the two of them; feeling like the odd man out. "Oh, I see, I've been demoted, have I?"

"Oh, come on, El. Don't be like that. You know I love you more than Winston."

She continues to squint. "You love me more than your horse?"

J.J. laughs. "Don't knock it. Coming from her, that's a huge compliment she really loves that horse."

El makes a face as if there's a bad smell in the air and says drolly, "Yeah I know. It's unnatural. And, by the way, why is his name Winston? I mean, where in all of creation, did you come up with Winston?"

The brunette rolls her eyes. "Winston." She says as if enunciating clearly should somehow make the reason behind the choice instantly understood. When her cousin continues to stare blankly, cluelessly, she offers a little more. "Winston Churchill?"

"Never heard of him."

She tries again. Renowned British prime minister famous for saying that the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man. I figure the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a woman too. Though, I don't know if Churchill ever thought about that."

"Norah, I swear, where do you come up with this stuff?"

"I read. You should try it sometime."

"I'd rather experience something firsthand than read about it."

"Hey, I experience plenty. It's just that Papa had a whole library full of books on every subject imaginable. He had books from this realm, Storybrooke, New York, realms I've never even heard of; and he loved to read. He had books on plumbing and television repair, and science and medicine and great works of literature and bureaucracy, history, religion, and government and something called thermodynamics. He kept that last one right next to a copy of something called The Feminine Mystique. I opened it once when I was about twelve expecting to find that I had inadvertently stumbled onto my grandfather's private stash of porn. Much to my relief, that book was not at all what I expected, but it was a good read. He read everything he could get his hands on. He read to me every night for years, and not just boring dinky little kids' books either. I still remember him reading Moby Dick and starting off with, 'Call me Ishmael! Like we were setting out on some grand adventure. Or, The Color Purple. I remember him whispering the opening line, 'You better not never tell nobody but God.' … Her warm smile slides into a half-hearted grimace. "El, you insisted I try this on. So, get back here and help adjust the thing for me." She scowls as she looks down at herself behind the screen. I don't think I'm quite woman enough to fill her corset."

The tall ginger-haired girl steps behind the partition and looks her cousin over with more than a little surprise. "You most definitely are woman enough! More so than I knew. You hide yourself under all those loose-fitting boy's clothes.

"Hey, I do not wear boy's clothes. I just like to be able to move without fighting with my wardrobe. Plus, I don't like making a spectacle of myself."

Well, then you will definitely want to take this off. But I'm not going to let you do it. It looks fabulous. Really…" She insists when her cousin shoots her a look of uncertainty. "You just need a few adjustments, that's all. You're younger, slightly less hip-ish and maybe a little shorter through the torso, but these things can be accounted for."

The girl squints, "She was hip-ish?"

The redhead thinks about it for a moment and clarifies, "She was more hip-ish than you, but then, she did give birth which, unless there is something else you haven't told me, you haven't done yet."

The corseted girl rolls her eyes. "Eliana!"

"What? Suck in."

"I did already, Hey, geez that's a little tight, El!"

"it's supposed to be tight. It's supposed to make you look regal."

"Is it supposed to cut off blood flow to my girl parts?"

"Quit complaining, smart ass! You look gorgeous! No, don't cover up with the cloak yet." Eliana smacks her cousin on the back side, "Get out there. Go show him what you look like with the lights on."

The dark-haired girl steps out from behind the screen, reaching back to smack roughly at the hands on her shoulders. "Will you please quit shoving me? She growls ominously. "I haven't bloody well forgotten how to walk!"

Eliana retracts her hands quickly as her cousin's bright blue gaze frosts over.

"Whoa! J.J. whistles. "Yep, I was right. That get-up is fearless!"

All irritation is forgotten, the young girl smiles brightly and then wishes she hadn't done so quite so readily. "Really? You're sure, it's okay?" She looks down at black leather and velvet that nearly fits like a second skin, while Eliana reaches back into the armoire and trades her dusty brown riding boots, for a highly polished black pair of the same.

"What you had on before was… okay. This is… heart-stopping."

Eliana lectures light-heartedly, "Only, stand up straight. You cannot slouch dressed like that!"

"I do not slouch!"

By way of reply, she leads her over to stand before the mirror once more. "This is not straight." She points to the younger girl's reflection before she physically adjusts her cousin's shoulders, spine, and hips; straightening her posture to the point of rigidity. "There, that's what standing up straight looks like. See the difference?"

She looks herself over, pleased with the result, but not terribly pleased with her cousin's present demeanor. "I thought we came down here to cast a spell. Not to give me deportment lessons. I refuse to walk around every moment of my life as if I have an invisible tome balanced perilously on the crown of my head."

Eliana rolls her eyes. "You don't have to walk around that way every moment of your life. But it's very helpful when you're wearing a corset. Walk around your way and it's going to get really hard to breathe, really fast."

"El." The brunette rolls her eyes and sighs heavily.

"Hey, somebody has to look after you. Your dad lets you run around dressed like a penniless urchin who sleeps in the woods."

"First, I frequently do sleep in the woods. Second, Dad doesn't 'let' me run around dressed like anything. He's never once told me what to wear, third if we cast the spell, and if it works, you can leave the lectures about clothing to her."

"Well, let's get to it then, shall we?"

Eager to have something other than her attire to focus on, the brunette steps over to the long heavy stone table that was obviously intended to be a workstation and begins pulling out items she knows she will need from nearby inlaid shelves. It takes a few moments of rummaging around through shelves and trunks to find a coveted spellbook, one she tosses gently to the tabletop and continues on her search.

J.J. helps himself to the spell book while she collects an odd assortment of things. A mortar, a pestle, five white candles, a dagger, and a collection of small glass jars; each of them labeled in a foreign language to obviously contain some kind of ingredient. While she's doing this, she asks over her shoulder, "Did you bring it, El."

"Of course, I brought it. But I could only find the original, not the updated one. Daddy hordes Mum's stuff." From the inside pocket of her shimmering blue cloak, she extracts a folded piece of parchment, and places it flat on the table; smoothing out the creases.

Glancing first at the book and then at the page on the table J.J. declares, "I hope you girls know what you're doing. In this book, I'm looking at a spell to wake the dead, and this piece of paper requires a newborn infant to enact time travel. Please tell me you're not planning a zombie apocalypse or to commit infanticide."

The redhead rolls her eyes as her slightly shorter cousin rises first, to her feet and then to her tiptoes before placing a reassuring peck of a kiss on his cheek. "The spell to wake the dead doesn't work… Well, actually, it does but it doesn't bring back the person someone is grieving for. Basically, it brings back a zombie version of the one they want. That's not what I want. I don't think that's what she would want either. Not that I ever got the chance to ask her, mind you. And, the time travel spell has been updated. You can relax we aren't going to be using any babies. A baby is just the living embodiment of innocence. We're going to be using talismans instead. Aunt Zelena updated the spell when she tried to do this herself a number of years ago. She said if she sacrificed a living baby to try to go back for this reason… She said…if it worked mom would never forgive her. So, in the hopes that it works, we're are not going be sacrificing any babies, hearts, or brains. But..." With a forlorn glance, she eyes the secret passage. "if we're going to do it, I've got to go back up there."

Eliana eyes her cousin with compassion. "I'll go. I'll do it. Just tell me what you want me to get."

"No!" The brunette shakes her head adamantly. "If I'm going to cast this spell, then the least I can do is have the guts to rob her myself!"


Storybrooke, Maine

Present day


"Did you get the beans?"

"Of course, I did. Did you get the boys?"

"I did. They're both on their way home. Neither of them is happy. Henry declares himself old enough to go. Roland is mad because he knows he's not old enough to go. He pointed out that it's not fair his little sister gets to go. He's older than she is!"

Regina chuckles softly and touches her own belly with maternal concern. "She wouldn't be going if there were any way for me to separate myself from her without risking the end of her life before it's even begun." She places a neatly folded stack of clothing in a large heavy wooden trunk.

Husband and wife look up expectantly at the sound of a quiet knock on the open door to their bedroom.

"I hope no one's going to tell me I'm not old enough to go." Her father jokes.

Regina's eyes widen in surprise. "Daddy, I thought you were going to stay here with the boys."

King Henry smiles patiently. "You made that decision without consulting me, my girl. I've spoken with Snow, Emma, and Little John. The boys will be well looked after. I'm going with you. It will be nice to see what remains of home. And don't you go thinking for one second that I'm going to risk missing the birth of my granddaughter. I'm an old man, Regina. Chances are, if she does have any younger siblings yet to be thought of, by the time they arrive, I won't be here to see it. Hers will be the only birth I'm likely to have a chance to be present for."

Regina scowls in response to the reminder of his age, but then, on second thought she offers him a rare, and genuine, look of contrition. "I apologize Daddy. That was thoughtless of me. I didn't even stop to think that you might like to see home again. And, of course, you are welcome to come along if all the traveling won't be too much for you. Neither of us knows what we're likely to face when we get there, but I'm still hoping we make it back before she arrives. Childbirth is never easy, but it is infinitely easier, not to mention, safer in this world."

"Regina, dear, if I thought for one minute, I could talk you out of going, I would. Especially given your current condition. Since we both know that's not going to happen, if you can endure all the travel and whatever unknown things await our arrival, so can I."

"Alright then. You better pack a trunk. You know what sorts of things to bring along. When you're ready, Robin will carry it downstairs for you."

Robin can't help but cringe mildly. "If I may make a request. Please allow me to carry the trunk downstairs empty then I will help you carry your things down to it. I wish I had thought about that before Regina started packing her own trunk. With all that heavy Enchanted Forest attire inside; yards and yards of royal garb, I don't relish the idea of carrying the trunk down that spiral staircase. Be a sport will you, Henry. Save my back!"

Henry nods agreeably while his daughter looks at her own trunk thoughtfully.

"I didn't think of that, Robin. I'll just magic it down the stairs."

Robin's eyes go wide in alarm. "Oh no you won't, milady! Not with the way your magic has been behaving lately! That 80-pound truck you're packing will go rolling end over end down the stairs, steamroll one of our boys and put a hole in the barn wall if it doesn't go crashing on a second story window and land squarely on top of Will Scarlett's head!"

Regina bites her lower lip to refrain from objecting irritably. She'd like to, but as much as she hates to admit it, the truth is that the possibility for such a calamity does exist. Late pregnancy is most definitely taking its toll on her magical prowess.


The Enchanted Forest

Almost Seventeen Years into The Future


Determined, the brunette makes her way back up the hidden staircase. Half of her feels that her cousin is wrong. She has no right to wear these things. She's not even sure she's fit to wear these clothes. And yet, the other half feels strengthened, emboldened as if she can somehow draw courage and strength from mere velvet and leather; as if the fabrics had been magically imbued.

"Ridiculous!" She chastises herself. "Clothes don't make the woman, and even to think for a second that their previous owner drew her unshakable courage and determination from some magical enchantment is no less than an insult her memory.

She stomps up the stairs and forces herself to approach the marble crypt she's been avoiding since her arrival here. Black marble with generous veins of white and silver running through it is covered heavily in dust. Bending slightly at the waist, she exhales gently, blowing the sterling nameplate clean.

She places her hands against the cold slab and leans heavily on her palms. Before proceeding any further, she closes her eyes as she lifts her chin to the ceiling above, almost as though she's praying. Summoning up the magical strength to break the seal is no trouble at all. For her, it's child's play. Summoning up the will and the nerve to disturb her mother's final resting place is another matter altogether. She inhales deeply and wills herself not to cry as her stomach ties itself up in knots. She shakes her head, opens her eyes, and softly stomps her foot in determination.

Pushing herself past the point of return she magically breaks the seal on the crypt and lifts the lid; making sure to lower its safely to the floor before she dares to allow herself to look upon the exquisitely preserved remains of Regina Alicia Covarrubia Mills-Locksley.

One look at her mother's pale olive skin, her dark hair, and elegant dress her father had insisted his lady be laid to rest in, and Norah can feel the tears she did not want to cry falling. She brushes them away angrily lest they should stain the soft, almost icy, lavender colored silk that her father had said her mother loved so much but seldom would allow herself to wear.

Being as gentle as she possibly can, Norah reaches in and removes two precious items that her dad said his wife's body couldn't be left to eternal slumber without. Claiming the stolen treasures, she pauses to take a deep breath and steady her hands before removing the protective plastic cap from the end of the syringe. Careful not to look too long at her mother's face, she uses tender hands to locate a vein in the back of her mother's cold lifeless right hand. Wishing that the dress wasn't long sleeved, and that she didn't have to risk damaging one of the tapered jewel encrusted sleeves to get to the softer, more supple, tissue of a forearm, she inserts the syringe as gently as possible and then because her mother has no pulse, she uses magic to draw blood into the reservoir.

Having all she needs, she returns her mother's hands to their folded position and gently smooths her skirt, paying particular attention to the pockets she has disturbed before returning her sad blue eyes to Regina's face.

"I'm sorry Mom." She hangs her head in shame and whispers softly. "It's my fault you're here, and now I'm robbing you, but If this works, I promise you'll still have these." She chuckles softly as she wipes away stubborn tears that refuse not to fall. "And, you can yell at me all you want. I promise I won't complain."


Storybrooke, Maine

Present Day


David brings horses for the merry men and the queen's freshly polished black and silver carriage from the stables. As Robin escorts first his wife, and then his mother inside Henry and Roland step forward, unhappy as they are to be left behind, and say warm if somewhat cranky, goodbyes. Before stepping into the carriage, himself, Robin gestures toward the open door deferring to his father-in-law, allowing the older man to enter first, out of respect.

While they settle in, Snow steps up to the carriage door and reaches for Regina's hand. "Don't worry about the boys. They'll be fine. Stay safe, take care of each other, and come home soon."

Regina nods, and before she steps away, Robin gently places a magic bean in Snow's upturned palm.

Lined up like a traveling processional with a few merry men on foot at the head of the line and on horseback at the rear, they stand at the ready in the center of Main Street. Snow passes the bean off to Emma who takes up her place on one side of the street. Hugging Roland from behind, she then passes the bean to her son. Henry, in turn, steps to the other side of the street, making sure he's clear of traffic before tossing the magical key to another world into the air.

A portal opens, and as the line starts to move through, a significant number of the residents of Storybrooke wave farewell. Their waving sons are the last people Regina and Robin see before vanishing from sight.


The Enchanted Forest

Almost Seventeen Years into The Future


Norah returns to her friends. Stepping up to the heavy stone table between the pair of them, she finds that her cousin has already arranged and lit the five white pillar candles in a loose circle on the floor around the table. In the center of the table, standing at the ready, she finds the mortar and pestle and the thin-bladed ceremonial dagger. Inside the large wide-mouthed mortar, a sprig of Cyprus, yarrow root, a bay leaf, and a pinch of sage and rosemary are already waiting for her.

Laying her pilfered items out on the table, she says more for J.J.s benefit than Eliana's, "Make sure you're touching me. If this works, I don't want either of you to get left behind."

She feels a hand come to rest soundly on either shoulder, as Eliana inspects the items she chose. She immediately understands the significance of the diamond wedding band, but not the three remaining objects. Questioning softly, she points to each item in turn. "An apple?"

Norah nods but it's J.J. who answers. "Sort of synonymous with your aunt, I would imagine."

Eliana nods even as she squints. "Yes, I understand the reference, but what's it supposed to represent?"

"It's the fruit of all knowledge and wisdom." He answers softly.

Eliana nods, catching on as Norah slices the apple, adding several pieces and a few of the seeds to the mortar. "It came from one of her trees in Storybrooke. Dad keeps the weirdest things."

The redhead points again. "A silver pocket watch? We don't need a talisman for time."

"Not what it's for. Open it. There's a small painted image of Aunt Regina in there. Then, read the inscription on the back."

Eliana squints again.

Norah responds without needing to look up from her task to see the look on her cousin's face to know it's there. "Not your aunt. Mine. Well technically, a great aunt. She was Papa's sister. Mom was her namesake."

Eliana fumbles with the clasp on the antique timepiece until it is open, and she stares at the minuscule and badly faded painted image that once held what must've been surprisingly good detail of a young woman who bore an obvious resemblance to her brother. She was different than her namesake, with sharper features, but still a beauty. Eliana closes the pocket watch and turns it over in her hand to find the inscription. "You're no bunny until somebunny loves you."

"Aunt Regina died years before my mom was even born. She gave the watch to Papa with its silly inscription, and according to him, Mom became fascinated with it when she was just an infant. I guess she thought it was pretty. Papa said she would scream all night long, throw tantrums until he would take out his watch and let it spin on its chain in the candlelight above her cradle. She got a little older and a few years later, if he had to leave the palace on business, especially if he was going to be gone overnight, she would refuse to let him leave her sight until he gave her his watch. She always gave it back to him once he returned to the palace, but he said it drove Grandmother crazy. She thought it was ludicrous for him to entrust such a valuable item to a toddler. But apparently Mom never broke it or lost it, and she was inconsolable without it. Grandmother couldn't understand why she wouldn't play with a doll or a toy like a normal little princess. Papa said that he thinks what made Cora the angriest about it was that, even as a toddler, Mom would hide the watch and refuse to tell her where it was."

Elianna chuckles as she nods. "I swear, I can almost see the tiny pint-sized version of your mother doing exactly that. She would have been glaring up at Grandmother defiantly, 'No, you can't have it. Daddy gave it to me!' Oh, Cora must've been livid!"

Norah nods. "The way Papa would tell it. I'm surprised Mom made it to adolescence without being thrown into a dungeon!"

Eliana gently places the watch in the mortar "Okay, you've got talismans for love, innocence, and wisdom. The only one left is courage. However, I'm not sure I understand how a syringe full of blood is going to remedy that."

"Are you kidding? Before she died, Mom wielded both light and dark magic. They were both in her blood, and sometimes having both in her blood caused her agony. Daddy said sometimes the pull between the two tormented her, but she never once quit, gave in, or surrendered. If that's not courage, then I don't know what is."

Elianna nods agreeably. "I think that's all we need except for the spell. I tried. If you want raw power, I'm your girl, but I'm not too good at that touchy-feely artsy rhythming couplet gibberish.

Norah chuckles softly and elbows J.J. in the ribs before he can say whatever she knows he's about to say. "It's okay. I brought one with me."

"You did?"

"Sure, it was easy. I just looked them up and then pulled bits from both the spells to summon the dead, and commune with an ancestor, and then I added a reversal for the spell to call a lost witch."

Eliana raises an eyebrow. "You reversed the spell to call a lost witch?"

"Well sure. We don't want her to come to us. We wanna go to her. So, I just flipped it upside down… Or around backward… Or inside out… Whatever, you know what I mean."

"Okay, Super witch. We're ready when you are."

Norah opens her palm and when she finds the wound there still seeping faintly, she holds it over the mortar, only to pause momentarily and trot over to the corner of the room to retrieve her bow and quiver. Shouldering both, she returns and each of her friends places an arm around her waist.

Quietly, making sure to enunciate clearly, she begins to chant; knowing that Eliana will join in once she's got it down.

We call forth through all space and all time

With the wisdom and power of our family's line.

Be she far or be she near,

Take us to the one held dear

So that our warning, she will hear.

After squeezing a few drops of her own blood into the mortar, Norah links an arm through JJ's and then looks to Eliana. "Did you at least leave a note when you snuck out of the house."

The older girl shakes her head. I don't have to leave a note, Nor. Daddy is a god, and he may not know where I am every single second of every day. But when he realizes that I have disappeared, he will tune in and come find me. He'll be pissed, but he will come find me, especially if he senses that I need him."

Norah grimaces. "Okay, but I think you should have given him at least some warning. I don't exactly relish the idea of having the pissed off god of the underworld coming after us once he finally realizes that you've taken off, and he decides to use his power to spy on you."

"Oh, like your dad is going to be any happier than mine."

"No, but my dad doesn't literally shoot flames out of the top of his head!"

"That's nothing to worry about. He'll stop. All I have to do is kiss him on the cheek."

Shaking her head, Norah joins their wounded hands once again. "Okay goddess, do your thing."

Eliana closes her eyes and turns the majority of her focus inward. Sparing only enough to join in when her cousin repeats –

We call forth through all space and all time

With the wisdom and power of our family's line.

Be she far or be she near,

Take us to the one we hold dear

So that our warning, she will hear.

The girls pause briefly before repeating;

We call forth through all space and all time

With the wisdom and power of our family's line.

Be she far or be she near,

Take us to the one we hold dear

So that our warning...

Norah senses the convergence of power welling up between her and Eliana even before the blinding sunburst of light engulfs the three of them. When it dissipates, they are nowhere to be seen. The mausoleum is once again empty of all sentient life.


The Enchanted Forest

Present Day


Regina, Robin, and company don't travel more than a mile are two beyond the portal's entry point before they both notice that they are in the wrong forest.

"You did tell Emma and Henry both that we intended to travel to Sherwood before proceeding on to Elyria."

Regina nods adamantly. "Yes, of course, and I'm quite certain they understand that." She looks out the window of the carriage. "but, this is most definitely not Sherwood." The Dark Palace is not more than a half hour's drive from here, Robin."

So, what happened. Why are we here?"

"I don't know why. And, it doesn't really matter. We're here now. I guess we're just in for a longer trip than we thought."

Robin opens the door and leans out slightly. Turning his face to the sky and the trees overhead, he gauges the time according to the position of the sun. "No, we're not. At least not today, anyway. It'll be nightfall soon. We have no idea what's gone on here in our absence or what might have changed. "I'm not taking you over rough terrain in the dark; especially not knowing what lies ahead. We stop at the Dark Palace tonight. We'll mind the horses, get food, relax, try to sleep, if possible and start out again at first light." He whistles for the carriage to stop and when it does, he gets out momentarily and has a quiet conversation with Alan ,who is driving, and a few of the other merry men.

While they spread the word among the group, he climbs back into the carriage and in very short order their journey is underway again only to stop twenty minutes later when one of the mounted men rides back to the carriage after scouting ahead.

"Sorry Robin, but I'm afraid there's trouble ahead. Not far, not more than 75 yards off the path, there's a clearing. It looks like an execution squad, maybe a witch-hunting party." He glances at Regina without feeling the need for a direct comment. "Do you want to hang back."

Robin grunts with extreme displeasure. "Percival, what I'd like to do is turn back and go home to Storybrooke and forget we were ever here. Seeing as how that's not going to bloody happen…" He takes a moment to think it over. "Tie up the horses. Everybody out of the carriage. Be quiet and stay close. We can't just let innocent people be murdered."

He quietly helps them out of the carriage before readying his bow. Stepping up between his wife and his mother, he whispers. "You two stay with me. I want both of you right here at all times, no more than a stone's throw away. Understood?"

Beatrice hums with anxiety while Regina nods quietly and reaches for her father's hand as they creep through the forest along with their merry entourage of thieving bandits.

As told, nearly 75 yards off the path, they crouch behind trees and shrubs, pushing leaves and foliage out of the way to behold a gruesome scene.

A hunting party of ½ dozen men prepares to hang two women who are forcibly seated on horseback beneath an ancient oak with nooses around their necks. One is older; well into middle age with hair that's going gray at the temples, while the other is tall and young, entirely too young, with skin as pale as milk and flaming red hair.

Passing sentence on the pair of them, a lean man with a bad complexion and eerily pale blue eyes declares them to be in defiance of the law against undertaking the practice of witchcraft and announces that they be put to death forth width.

Robin whistles the call of the gray mourning dove, secretly announcing his intent, and one of his cohorts understands and whistles back to him; answering with the sound of a cardinal somewhere off to his left.

The instant the horses are smacked on their hindquarters they bolt. The women drop like swinging burlap sacks full of grain; their weight pulling their hanging ropes tight around their necks and Robin fires, aiming for the rope six inches above the older woman's head.

His arrow slices through the air beautifully severing the rope and sending the startled woman plummeting to the ground below even as he realizes that the shot that freed the redhead came just a fraction of a second before his from somewhere off to the right, rather than from the left as it should have.

The hunting party bellows in panic. The man with the pale blue eyes shouts, "Ambush" and he's the first to turn and flee while the other five make at least a minimal effort to hold their ground until arrows are flying in all directions and it is painfully clear that although they cannot see their attackers, they are greatly outnumbered. They escape into the trees moving away from Robin and the merry men. When it is apparent that they are not going to double back, Robin rushes into the clearing on winged feet with his wife scarcely more than a few inches behind him. He kneels beside the frightened sobbing woman and removes the severed rope from around her neck with strong but gentle hands.

"Shh. You're alright. It's over." He quickly frees her bound hands. "No one's going to hurt you." He removes her blindfold. "You're safe now. Are you hurt? Can you stand?" He reaches for her aware of movement in his peripheral vision, as the woman before him stares transfixed and trembling at the sight of Regina.

Regina bends slightly at the waist offering her hand, and without explanation, the woman is suddenly on her feet and fleeing blindly into the trees; screaming as if her flesh were on fire.

Robin squints in confusion as the merry men gather around. "Well, that was odd."

"No, it wasn't," Regina says drolly. "You may have saved her, but she ran from me. People here don't know that I've changed."

Robin squints on the verge of saying something, but he's cut short as the young redhead is heard bellowing belligerently.

"What the hell took you so long?" She shouts blindly in the general direction of a vaguely familiar young man and a pretty brunette with a quiver at her back.

The frightened angry redhead risks the bit of magic necessary to untie the knotted rope around her wrists and removes the noose from around her own neck before she yanks off her own blindfold. "Did you have to drop me on my ass?" She demands to know even before she is fully conscious of the fact that she has an audience of more than just two.

Robin stares at the girl with the oddly familiar quiver slung over her shoulder as she apologizes with a hint of fear and hostility in her own voice. "I'm sorry! It was the best I could do under the circumstances."

Regina squints, staring at the redhead who is still sitting on the ground, undeniably aware that there's something boldly familiar about her. Even though she knows it can't be, she somehow can't quite stop herself from questioning incredulously, "Zelena?"

In the next instant, Robin's wife is stunned into immobility when the redhead's gaze slides her way, and then without warning the girl in the blue cloak is on her feet, crying out, "Aunt Regina!" and hurling herself into Regina's ill-prepared embrace. "Oh my god! It worked! It worked! I can't believe it worked! Yes, I can! Oh, Norah! You're a genius! You did it! You did it!"

Half of her words are shouted in Regina's ear, but before the confused queen can respond, the redhead has abandoned her and is holding hands with her friends; and bouncing on the balls of her feet in unrestrained joy.

Robin, Regina, Beatrice, and Henry, along with all the merry men witness the three of them dancing around, laughing like loons and they have no idea what to make of it.

While the brunette, and the male holding her hand, stare in absolute wonder, Regina and Robin stare back; beyond curious.

"Robin!" Regina exclaims; suddenly struck with the realization that she's seen the brunette before. "Robin it's her!"

Robin squints and rubs the back of his neck in confusion. "What are you on about, love?"

Regina sighs impatiently and whispers, "You remember. The new addition to Henry's storybook right before I came back from New York. The one with the illustration of us in the nursery and the mystery girl. That's her, Robin. She's the girl in the picture."

Robin stares transfixed until the redhead suddenly remembers her near demise and demands, "Hey you never answered my question! What the hell took you so long!" She rubs her own slender neck, tenderly fingering rope burn. "You cut it kind of close there, cousin!"

Mesmerized by the sight of the infamous queen and her equally renowned husband, the brunette answers distractedly. "Sorry for the rough landing, El. I wanted to do something sooner. I wanted to start a fire to distract them. I tried to start the fire before they spooked the horse, but that didn't work. It seems I don't have my magic. I had no choice but to shoot you down. Better a sore bum than a stretched neck." "

The one called El nods in resignation and then squints with hostile incredulity. "What do you mean you don't have your magic? Why don't you have your magic?"

Tired of being yelled at, the brunette shrugs, and shouts back, her eyes still glued to Robin and Regina. "Oh… I don't know Eliana!" She gestures toward Regina's belly and growls in frustration. "Maybe I don't have my magic because… I haven't been born yet!"

While Norah's parent's mouths fall open in mind-numbing shock, Eliana glances at her aunt's belly and cringes. "Uh oh, oops! Yeah, see, I, I, I… I didn't think about that part!"

Norah cringes herself, and because it's already too late to soften the blow and she has absolutely no clue what else to do or say, she raises an eyebrow and tries hopefully, "Hi Daddy…"