Breaking Down Walls

Chapter 10

It was one of those dreams, where you know you're dreaming, but you still have no control over events or circumstances. Henry found himself walking around a lush, green valley, a bright hot sun beating down on him from directly above. The air smelled sweet, like red velvet cupcakes or vanilla ice cream. An almost tangible energy crackled all around him. It felt like.. Magic.

"Hello?" Henry called out, his voice sounding foreign in his own ears. "Is anyone out there?"

The wind shifted, and Henry could hear the distinct gallop of a horse steadily approaching, though he couldn't see anything in any direction. A potent gust of wind blew into him, almost as if something sped past, thought nothing was there. Blinking at the force, his hair flying in all directions, Henry lifted his arm up to shield his face.

"Greetings, dear boy." A man's voice drifted into Henry's mind, gentle, and benevolent. As Henry lowered his arm slowly, he saw he was face to face with an elderly man, his eyes abundant with compassion, a fond smile adorning his features.

"Who are you?" Henry ask, his eye brows furrowing.

"I am the man for whom you are named." The older man dipped his head in a meager bow as he introduced himself.

Henry's eyes grew wide. It was his mom's father. Henry remembered Regina telling him he'd been named after her father. He'd asked her about it on his eighth birthday, after one of his friends had told him Henry was a "weird and dorky name." When Henry knew who he'd been named after, the other boy's accusations had become null and void. Young Henry wore the name proudly after that.

Suddenly, Henry's face grew pale as he recalled Regina telling him everything that she'd done in becoming the evil queen, including murdering her own father (this man who stood just a few feet in front of Henry now) in cold blood.

"You're my Mom's father," Henry proclaimed dryly. The man nodded, his smile refusing to waver.

"I am," his voice still calm and resolute as Henry studied him.

"What are you doing here?"

The pounding of horses hooves could be heard again in the distance as Henry glanced in the direction of the noise.

"I'm here to deliver a message," the older Henry said, "One for you. One for Regina." His voice abruptly becoming a whisper as he finished, "and one, for Emma".

Henry swung his head back around, his neck straining at the swift motion. He ignored the pain, much too preoccupied with his "grandfather's" words.

"What is it?" Henry's rapt attention drawing him in closer.

The old man bent down, his eyes boring into Henry's.

"My dear grandson," the tenor of his voice taking on an ethereal quality, "you have three qualities to be admired. The first of which is Ambition. Ever since you were small, you knew how to make things happen. And you always knew what needed done. You have the ability to accomplish great undertakings." A weak, but gentle hand reached out, resting on young Henry's shoulder. "Second, Character. You know who you are. You aren't afraid to be who you are. You don't let anyone tell you differently, and you are never arrogant." The old man's smile grew considerably. He winked as he added, "A trait most likely inherited in your genetics."

Henry beamed at that, laughing a little and relaxing.

"What's the third thing?" Henry asked his namesake, still smiling up at him.

"Ah. The third, young prince, is something for which there is no label." The hand fell from Henry's shoulder as the man stood upright again. "The third, is the most honorable of all. It is your ability to see beyond what is in front of your face. You look past barriers and pretense. You beak through walls and see inside, to what is hidden." He whispered again, "You saw MY Regina," a single tear trickling down his wrinkled cheeks.

Henry felt his own chest tighten as his emotions swirled around inside him.

"Sir?" Henry spoke past the lump in his throat, "Can she be.. her.. again?" Henry's eyes pleaded with the elderly man to answer in the affirmative, which he did, in the form of a dignified nod of his head. A sigh of relief expelled from Henry's lips as he grinned.

"She was never gone, Son." Henry listened intently as the man spoke, "She was just buried by heartache, sorrow and hatred."

Henry felt the dam holding his composure break as he let the old man's words sink in. His small face instantly became soaked with the rush of tears falling freely from his brown eyes. Holding his arms out, he felt himself being pulled into gruff, but comforting arms, the old man holding him warmly as he wept quietly.

After Henry's tears had ran empty, tilting his head back, he looked up at his mom's father.

"You have more to say." It was more of a statement, than a question, and the old man smiled again.

"Yes. Emma. Your mother." Henry confirmed, stepping back, though only just; he remained close enough so that he could see the flecks of gold sparkling in the old man's eyes.

"Emma Swan. The White Knight. The Savior." the older Henry took a few breaths. "That designation caries more weight than even Rumplestiltskin could have imagined." The old man dropped to one knee, eye level with Henry. "She was born, destined to bring happiness. The embodied product of true love. She WILL break the curse. Just as she's broken through the walls around my baby girl's heart. YOU broke them with intricacy. Emma, broke them with determination, courage, and that which is ingrained into her very essence. Love."

"She is Mom's savior," Henry said, "more so than anyone else's." Henry could see it so clearly now. The pieces were falling into place like clockwork. Everything made sense, and he couldn't believe he didn't see it all before.

"Yes, Henry, she is." This time, the old man placed a hand on each of Henry's shoulders, grasping softly. "Henry, she is the key. True love. SHE is Magic."

Speechless, Henry nodded again.

"Dear boy, you see what no one else sees." The old man pointed off in the distance, over Henry's shoulder. "Look."

Henry half turned his body, craning his neck as he scanned the blossoming valley behind him.

"What?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

"Just look."

And then, Henry saw it. Like a ghost, a faint image appeared of a beautiful bay horse running through a patch of lilies, a beautiful young woman on its back, riding with absolute grace. Henry's breath caught in his chest as he watched the translucent image, something familiar about the woman drawing his interest. Her long, rich, mahogany hair was pulled into a loose braid and flowed easily behind her as she flawlessly maneuvered the beast beneath her. The realization struck him like lightning. Her face was much younger and carefree, worry lines not yet printed on her youthful face. She laughed easily as she rode, the sound burning into Henry's heart.

"Mom?" he breathed, mystified. The horse broke into a full gallop, leaping over a fallen tree as it disappeared in a haze.

"It's rare, that such beauty is matched inside as well as out," the older Henry's voice broke slightly, his eyes trained on the horizon where his young daughter had vanished. "That kind of beauty is never lost. Not forever."

Henry twisted back towards the man. "I'm sorry I didn't see it when Snow gave me that book."

Henry's grandfather's eyes softened further as he ruffled Henry's hair slowly with his hand.

"Which brings me to my message for Emma," he spoke with such intensity, Henry felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck bristle. "Things of the past serve one purpose, and one purpose only. To shape the future. To mold it and give it substance." Steeling his voice, he continued, "Past is just that. Past."

Henry blinked, wholly understanding what the older man was saying. He didn't need to say anything. The old man saw the comprehension stamped in the boy's eyes.

"She will understand." Henry felt the weight of his responsibility bubbling in his gut. He welcomed it as part of his own destiny. "But what about Mom?"

At the mention of Regina once more, the old man's smile lit his face.

"My little girl," he boasted proudly, "a force to be reckoned with."

Henry half smiled, agreeing silently.

"In her mind, she is unworthy of anyone's forgiveness. Anyone's love. Especially Emma's. In her mind, there is no forgiving herself. It is up to you. Help her understand that she is deserving of the same consideration and compassion she'd freely give to anyone else she loved. The secret is to get her to realize that forgiving yourself uniquely human. All forgiveness, is given as a gift. It is not give because someone deserves it. It is given because they need it."

Young Henry stood, unmoving, his head wrapping around a thought as he smiled with confidence and determination. "Forgiveness is an act of compassion."

The old man winked as the smile spread across his face, a glint dancing in his aged eyes.

"Precisely."

Henry spun around as the sound of galloping hooves echoed once again through the valley. The horse was rapidly approaching. Henry let himself laugh as he watched a youthful and carefree Regina, also laughing as she urged the bay forward. As horse and rider rushed passed him, inches to Henry's left, they once again vanished within the vapors of the mist. A gust of wind wafted around Henry as he closed his eyes, letting it blanket him as he turned back around to face the old man.

He was gone.

Sighing to himself, Henry looked up into the sky and smiled as the cloud around him began to swirl and spin.

"You can count on me, …Grandfather."

As the thickening cloud swept around him and darkened, Henry realized he was no longer standing in the enchanting valley. He was plunged into complete darkness of Emma's bedroom, clinging to the blankets draped haphazardly around him, the smile still plastered onto his lips. Never before had he felt such an overpowering sense of indomitable hope and anticipation.

He knew what had to be done, and he couldn't wait to set the plan he'd already begun to form into motion.