10

What a beautiful dress! Emma could see it sparkling from what seemed like a mile away. Perhaps there would be a ball tonight!

Emma sighed, happily. Potential was everywhere, now that she was finally stripped free of the chains to her tower—and now that it seemed she would never have to worry about it again.

She continued walking, approaching the bridge with more force than she intended. It wasn't long until she was looking over the edge, peering at the ocean. She brushed away guilt and thoughts of Killian. She needed to do this without him.

When she reached the form in front of her, she paused. The woman was facing away, her hair in a tight bun, strumming her fingers along the railing. It took Emma a moment to place what was familiar, until she noticed the large ring on the woman's finger.

It was a large snowflake that glinted in the sun. The blue sparkles brought her back to Ingrid's room, back to all the mirrors, the blue of the walls, the scattered snow stars. This isn't happening.

Except it was.

Ingrid turned around and smiled sweetly. "Emma, I am so happy to see you."

She stiffened. "I don't think I can say the same."

"Emma, I can explain."

"Explain what? How you kidnapped me? How you aren't even my real mother?"

She couldn't even look at her anymore. She let her eyes trail up the bridge, seeing the beginnings of the kingdom. The village awaited her. Impatiently.

"Of course I'm your mother, Emma. I'm the one who raised you. It doesn't take blood to make a family." Ingrid took a step closer. Emma responded by whipping the dagger out of her satchel.

"I know your little secret, Ingrid. Don't think I won't use this on you."

Ingrid laughed, unthreatened. "And what exactly are you going to use that for?"

Emma didn't say anything. She just held the dagger out in front of her, protectively. She wasn't going back to her tower, and she certainly wasn't going to let Ingrid stop her when she was so close to the kingdom. To permanent freedom.

"Emma, I know you won't use that on me. I am still like a mother to you."

"How exactly did you conclude that? You took my life away from me. What did you think of all my days in the tower, begging to just go outside? Why did you have to use a cloaking spell? You were never protecting me." She looked down. "I've always been for your own use."

"Emma that's not true. I love you. We've had great times together. As a family."

"You tore me apart from my family."

"I did it with reason, Emma. I know you don't understand right now, but one day you will."

"I will never understand you."

"Why don't we go back home and talk about this, Emma?"

"Home? You call that a home? I'd miss that dreaded place if it was home. There's nothing that will make me go back there ever again."

Ingrid sighed. She was unbelievably patient, convinced she had a right to her "daughter."

"Where do you want home to be then, Emma? I can take you anywhere you like." She paused, trying to gather Emma's fleeting patience. "We can cross realms."

"Cross realms? With you? No thanks, lady."

"Emma, don't you think you're being a little harsh?"

"You've got to be kidding me. You're crazy."

Emma's anger had spiraled. It was in her voice, her eyes, the grip of her hand. She almost wanted to question why Ingrid was being so patient with her. It was so odd that she suddenly felt the dagger was unnecessary. She tucked it back into her satchel and walked over to Ingrid, so that she was leaning on the railing of the bridge.

She didn't question whether or not Ingrid loved her. She knew she did. And Emma knew she loved her at one point too.

She could remember days as a child, with Ingrid teaching her to read and to draw. Ingrid went to great lengths to keep her happy—in the tower at least. She never abused her, never made her question her love for her. Though her demands never seemed to add up, the love had seemed unquestionable.

It didn't mean that she was going to eat up everything she said, but it didn't make her wonder any less.

"Ingrid, why would you do that to me?"

"Emma, I did it for us."

"That doesn't exactly answer my question." She looked out onto the water: a bleak and terrible reminder. She hated to ask it. "Did you have anything to do with the Royal Navy?"

"What do you mean?"

Emma turned to face her. "I was with a lieutenant. He said he was the only survivor of a shipwreck." She began to study Ingrid's eyes intensely. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

"So what if I did, Emma? They were going to take you away from me. And they were going to use me as a solution to their own problems."

Oh, sort of how you used me? But she couldn't even say it, as the next realization hit her hard. "You're the reason Killian's brother is dead." She took a step back. "You're a murderer."

To that, Ingrid actually cringed. It affected her entire composure, and she struggled to maintain a neutral expression. This was something she would have believed anyways, whether or not she let the crew of the Royal Navy live.

"Nobody's perfect, Emma."

The confession was too much for her to handle. She needed to get out of here. "I need to go."

"Before you do, before you go into the kingdom, I need to show you something."

"Whatever it is, I don't want to see it."

Ingrid gave her a sad smile. "The thing is, I think you will, Emma. It's about Snow and Charming."

"What about them?"

"They may not accept you into their lives as quickly as you may think." Ingrid nodded to the ocean. "Look down, Emma."

She did, and was presented with a scene, no doubt from Ingrid's powers of the Dark One.

She saw first who she supposed were her parents, and she let out a little gasp. They were beautiful, and suddenly seemed more real than she could have ever imagined.

Snow and Charming were embracing each other. Charming was kissing the top of Snow's hair, as tears spilled down her cheeks. When they stopped, Snow put a hand to her stomach, looking down longingly. Charming's hand quickly went over hers, and it all became very apparent what was happening.

They kissed before departing the room, arriving at a crib with much excitement. Crystal unicorns hung from the top of the crib, and Emma felt her stomach drop as her parents reached for them, running their fingers over the sparkling glass.

They were pregnant.

Emma looked up at Ingrid. "That's not real."

"I'm afraid it is, Emma."

"That doesn't mean they won't take me back." Her voice wavered, and she feared Ingrid would catch on to it.

"They could very well take you back. But is that what you want? To be greeted with a baby brother? You'll be pushed aside. Unwanted."

"What if you're wrong?"

"I highly doubt that, Emma." She moved towards her. "Besides, I'm your mother and I know what's best for you."

Emma groaned. She was so tired of people trying to make her decisions for her. "Do you really think that's going to work on me? I left Killian for withholding the truth for what was best for me, and he's nowhere near as dark as you."

"My title as the Dark One doesn't mean I am truly incapable of love, Emma."

"I don't think you know what love is."

She looked at Emma full of pity. "And I suppose you do?"

Emma blushed, full of embarrassment and anger. She wasn't going to deny her feelings for Killian but she wasn't going to voice them either. She just stared at Ingrid with her mouth set in a thin line. She was ready to turn around. She'd heard enough.

"Oh, Emma, don't be so naïve. Do you really think he likes you—that he's impressed? Emma, please."

Emma didn't respond. Because, at the moment, she was more impressed with Killian than she was with anything else. "I liked him, Ingrid. He was my friend."

"What do you think the King and Queen will give to the man who delivers their princess to them, Emma?"

Her anger flared up again. "Whatever it is, he wouldn't accept it. All he cares about is the brother he lost—the brother you killed!"

And just like that, Emma's hands were glowing with power. She looked down, terrified. "What the hell. Ingrid, what the hell is happening?"

Ingrid smiled, not even trying to conceal her excitement. "It seems you're on the edge of a marvelous breakthrough, Emma. I didn't know you'd be born with such power. But this makes us so much more similar than you think."

Ingrid looked up at the bridge, just in time, to see a carriage passing through. Perfect. It would arrive in moments. Emma was still staring at her hands, and wouldn't notice a thing. She'd have to act instinctively. It would be the best way to test it, if what Killian had suggested was true.

"Emma, listen to me."

She looked up eagerly, ready to hear the plan on how to terminate the magic emanating from her hands. "How do I stop this?"

The carriage was getting closer, the sounds of the horses hooves becoming more apparent.

"Emma, stop the carriage."

"What?"

"I said, stop the carriage. You can do this."

Emma turned away from Ingrid, bewildered when she saw it and understood what she was suggesting. Her eyes widened, and she turned to Ingrid again in pure shock. "I have no idea—"

But it was too late, because she was pushed in the midst of the road.

She screamed as the rustle of the hooves and the rolling wheels flooded her senses. She rolled out of the way, to the other side of the bridge as she felt something within her hands.

The horses stumbled, slightly, as if meeting a rock, but continued going, the bustle doing essentially nothing. When it passed, Emma stood up. Her hands were shaking. The light was dimming, but it was still there. "What the hell! What is wrong with you?!"

Ingrid crossed the street to Emma. "I'm so sorry, Emma. I thought you were ready—I made a mistake."

"Ready for what? To be killed? Ingrid, you are in no way helping your case."

"Can you at least call me Mother, Emma?" She asked quietly, trying not to allow her hope to consume the question.

"The only thing I'm going to be calling you, is Crazy. I'm leaving."

And Ingrid let her.

She watched as Emma departed, walking up the bridge and making her way closer to the kingdom. She would come back for her. And if she didn't, she was certain Emma would come back to her.

She needed a cheese sandwich. Pronto. Or a nap. Or Killian. Or maybe all of the above.

She was too tired to figure out what the hell was happening to her. She was just relived Ingrid let her go, even though she sensed it wouldn't be the last she was seeing of her.

She sighed, walking up the bridge. The emerging cottages weren't even enough to make her smile. The people she was finally seeing walking at the top of the bridge weren't helping her mood at all. She was completely done. She sat down when she reached flat ground, emotionally drained.

She didn't want to think about Ingrid, or her parents, or the baby. She felt like she didn't belong in her tower her entire life, and she was beginning to believe she didn't belong in her own kingdom.

What was worse was that she didn't feel at home in her own skin. She didn't know she was capable of magic, and never would have guessed.

Killian did, though. He seemed to know her better than she knew herself. If he had told her about Ingrid, she probably would have been overwhelmed. It would have been nice to know, but it most definitely would have hindered her confidence in the journey.

Kind of like how her confidence was hindered now.

She suddenly wasn't hungry. She felt responsible.

The reason Killian's brother and crew were dead was because of her. She was in no way capable of stopping it—but Ingrid killed them to protect her. It was a punch to the gut, especially all the talk she gave Killian about having hope.

Anything that seemed too good to be true, must be so. Because all she could think was that, right now, she gave Killian false hope. And so it seemed: not having a happy ending was painful enough, but giving someone false hope was far worse.

She stood up, brushing off her pants.

She had to find Killian.

Snow and Charming stood at the crib, admiring the dangling unicorns.

It was once meant for Emma, but now they would be welcoming someone new into their family.

Snow dropped the unicorn she was holding, suddenly ridden with guilt. "What if this is wrong?"

Charming grabbed her hand, spinning her towards him. "What are you talking about?"

It was hard for her to say the words, but her husband's eyes gave her confidence. "Do you still believe Emma will come home to us? Do you believe what Grumpy told us?"

"Of course, I do. I believe it as I believed in you, through all our trials with Regina. Snow, this is a good thing."

"Emma is going to come home to us to find another child. What is she going to think?"

He took a moment to answer. "Honestly, I don't know." He shook his head as his hands found their way to hers. "We have a second chance at raising a child; we should embrace it. We aren't replacing Emma, and we still believe she will return to us. This happened because we are in love." He smiled at her gently, before giving her a kiss.

Snow's eyes watered. "It still feels…this crib was meant for Emma. And while I am so happy, and so grateful to be with you, I can't help…"

"Snow, it's okay." He gave her another encouraging smile. "She'll understand."

She pulled him into her arms, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear, "I can only hope so."