Author's Note: I apologize for not getting this written and posted sooner but that pesky E!Online poll has been ruling my life since it came out. And oddly enough you can't vote 500 million times a day AND write apparently. If you haven't voted yet in it VOTE! Captain Swan is in the final round and we want bragging rights people!
As always thank you for reading and reviews/favorites/follows feeds the muse! Enjoy!
Chapter 11: Secrets and Fears of the Heart
Erin didn't know how long she had stood there before she sensed her parent's presence in the bedchamber behind her. Sensed wasn't even the right word – she smelled them before their physical presence registered with her. It had always been a strange ability for her, a heightened sense of smell and being able to attach an emotion to it. Her mother had always called it her super power and it had aided her in more ways than one just as Emma's super power had through her life. Ruby had theorized shortly after Erin had realized her ability that some were in either Emma or Killian's family there had been a wolf, lending to their daughter having the heightened sense.
Her parent's scents were as distinct to her as the smell of the ocean. Leather and sea always enveloped her father, even this past version of him when he didn't have the Jolly Roger to set sail on. It wasn't as strong as the scent of his future self but the emotions tied to it for her were the same – of home, of safety. Strawberries and warm vanilla was her mother's unique scent – the smell of love and strength – and as it hit her she had to fight the sudden lump in her throat. She had made a conscious effort not to let that scent trigger her super power while here in the past but in this unguarded moment it caused her to miss her mother so much.
"Erin."
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, letting the familiar smell of the ocean fill and sooth her, she turned around to see her parents stood in the doorway to the balcony. Both of them wore identical faces of worry. Instead of sending warmth and love through her like it normally would she felt the panic rise, her emotional walls shooting up another 100 feet. Leaning back against the balcony railing she crossed her arms and ankles, carefully schooling her face into a practiced blank expression.
Emma and Killian shared a quick glance, both of them thinking the same thing without having to utter a word to each other. Erin's stance screamed that she was closing herself off, going on the defensive for whatever reason had caused her to bolt from the nursery. Killian had to remind himself that the woman standing in front of him was the daughter of Emma Swan and while just as beautiful as her mother, he was certain she guarded the walls around herself just as fiercely. When the time comes don't let her shut you out.His future self's silent words echoed back to him.
Well if there was one thing Killian Jones never backed down from, it was a challenge – especially were blonde princesses were concerned.
"Why didn't you tell us about Hope?"
Killian visibly winced at Emma's question. That was his Swan, always to the direct question that finds her the quickest answer. However it was not the tactic to take when dealing with emotional walls, the Gods knew he had enough practice in scaling hers. He saw Erin's body tense even more, the hard tick of her jaw.
"It wasn't important to getting you to the future."
Emma nodded, never breaking her gaze from Erin's hard green eyes. "That isn't a lie, but it's also not the whole truth, is it?"
"Swan—"
"It's enough of the truth," Erin bit out, her walls and temper dangerously rising. She knew this version of her mother meant well, just wanted answers to know what was eating away at her future daughter but Erin didn't need that. She needed the version of her mother she knew, the one who knew not to ask questions were this was concerned, who let Erin's father handle the situation because he was the only one who could understand Erin's pain.
"No, it's not," Emma replied tersely, taking a few steps forward. "That child is loved, that was clear as day from what I saw. Why keep her existence a secret? Of all the things you've told us about our future you kept what I can assume is the most important fact for you from us. Why?"
"Emma…"
If at all possible Erin's jaw tightened even more. "As you said, mom, she is the most important thing of my life. That has nothing to do with the current situation your future self is in, nor of getting you to the future to save yourself."
"But she's important to you, Erin. And there is something about her, something tied to her that had you so scared you didn't plan to tell us we would one day have a granddaughter. Why wouldn't you just tell us? What could be so horrible in admitting that—"
"BECAUSE OF THESE QUESTIONS!" Erin shouted, immediately regretting the outburst. Her eyes slammed shut as she tried to reign in her emotions, the familiar tickle of her magic pulsing at her palms. Get a grip, Erin! Never, in her twenty-six years of life had she ever raised her voice to her parents. There was never a reason too, and no reason to start now. They just wanted answers; answers they couldn't understand were painful to her. "Because of these questions," she replied in a softer tone.
She opened her eyes to see the shock and hurt written all over her mom's face, the understanding radiating from her father's eyes little comfort to her. She looked back to Emma, her eyes pleading with the younger version of her mother. "Just, please… leave it be."
"We just want to know what happened to you, Erin," Emma said softly. "We just…. We just want to help you."
"You can't help me," Erin whispered, hot tears burning her eyes but she refused to let them fall again. She sighed, knowing she was going to have to give them something. "It—"she swallowed thickly, fighting through the heavy feeling of drowning in emotions. "It was the darkest day of my life and Hope was the only light that came from it. I just want to leave it at that."
Killian clenched his jaw, a war of emotions running through him. He had known from the look of complete loss in Erin's eyes that she had endured something but to hear her admit to him and Emma that she had, that it was the darkest day of her life made anger for whoever was responsible flare bright and hot within him. The anger was quickly replaced with a deep need to protect her though, to take the pain away. But there was one question he had to ask her, one that since learning of Hope's existence had been burning through his mind.
With his hand by his side he once again formed the words to a language he hadn't used in centuries. He saw Erin's eyes flicker down to his hand and he was thankful she seemed to somehow know the language as well.
Who is Hope's father?
Erin uncrossed her arms, using the pretext of leaning back into the railing to bring her left arm to her side out of Emma's line of sight. Her response was swift and had Killian throwing her a smirk and quirk of one of his brows.
That would be your burning question, dad.
Well, I am a father, lass. Pretty standard for a man to want to know what undeserving bloke helped father that beautiful lass I saw.
Dad… please….
Killian gave her the smallest of nods as he replied with his fingers. You'll tell me when you are ready, love. Erin smiled at him softly even though it came no were near to reaching her eyes. That was her father, the perceptive pirate who could read her like an open book, who knew when to push and not to. He wouldn't completely drop the subject she knew, not now knowing something bad had happened to her, but he would let her come to him in her own time. The same way he had let her mother open up to him all those years ago.
"Everything okay out here?"
Three heads turned to see Liam emerge from another door that opened out to the balcony, the door to their father's future study, Erin noted. His blue eyes darted between the faces of his parents before coming to rest on Erin. Liam instantly took in her tense stance, the raw emotion written all over her face and echoing deeply from her eyes. It was a look he had only seen on his sister a handful of times over the past six years and it didn't take much for him to deduce what the conversation had been before he walked in.
Clearing his throat he waved vaguely in the direction he had come. "We should really get going. We still have a few days of travel before we reach Regina's castle and I'd rather not be groping around in the dark to find a campsite tonight with ogres wandering around."
"Good idea," Erin chimed in quickly. Before either of her parents could say another word she grabbed her leather coat from the balcony railing and briskly walked past her brother and through the door he had come through. Liam turned to follow her but not before the subtle movements of his right hand caught Killian's attention.
She'll be fine, just give her time.
Before Killian could respond Liam left, leaving his parents alone on the balcony of their future bedchamber. Emma quickly turned to leave, her intent on following their children clear but was stopped by the gentle tug of Killian's hook on her arm.
"Swan, don't."
"Don't what, Killian?" Emma whispered harshly as she turned, standing a few feet in front of him. "Our daughter is clearly hurting and you want me to do nothing about it?"
"That is exactly what we have to do, love."
Emma wrenched her arm from the grasp of his hook, glaring at him. "You might be able to stand back and do nothing but I can't."
Killian closed the distance between them until the toes of their boots touched, invading her personal space until she could feel his warm breath ghost over her face as he talked. "Do not mistake my lack of dashing after our daughter as me not caring about her, Swan. She has been hurt, that is obvious. And I promise you that when we find out who caused her pain I will happily revert back to my days of extracting revenge through means of various torture if my future self hasn't already done so. But what she needs right now, is space. She's like you, love – an open book to me, and her walls are so high right now that beating at them is only going to make her withdraw into them more. She'll come to us when she's ready."
Emma let out the shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding at Killian's words, closing the last few inches between them to wrap her arms around him. She rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she breathed in his familiar scent of leather and sea. She felt him tense for a fraction of a second as he always did when she initiated close contact like this between them before his arms came around her, his hook pressing into her lower back as his fingers threaded through her hair.
"What happened to her, Killian?" she whispered against his throat.
He placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I don't know, love. But whatever happened we'll find out, I promise you."
"Do you—"Emma paused, bringing her head off his shoulder as her hands moved from his back to his waist. "Do you think it has something to do with Hope's father?"
Killian tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, his answer soft and confident. "Aye, I'm almost certain it does. She refused to even tell me the identity of the burk."
Emma frowned up at him. "When did you ask her that?"
"It would seem our children have somehow learned an ancient pirate code." At Emma's confused expression he continued to explain. "It's a code pirates used centuries ago, a way for us to communicate with each other without the prying eyes of the upstanding law enforcement knowing we were. Each letter is assigned a shape you make with your fingers and hand. It seemed to die out during my extended holiday in Neverland. Until I saw my future self and Liam using it when we were in the nursery, I haven't seen it in 170 years."
"So it's like sign language."
"I have no idea what that means, Swan."
Emma laughed. "I'll explain later, you ancient pirate. So Liam and your future self were using this secret language? I never saw any fingers wiggling."
Killian raised an eyebrow. "You do not 'wiggle' your fingers when using the code, love. It's meant to be a subtle way to communicate. You probably saw it but you dismissed it as the natural movement of a hand."
"So what were they talking about?"
"Erin," Killian said, sighing "About how she'll be okay and I – well, my dashingly handsome future self –"that earned an eye roll from Emma, "told Liam to keep an eye on her. She apparently has nightmares, or use to have them. He told me to talk to her when I caught a moment alone with her, that I'm the only one she talks to about this."
"But she refused to tell you Hope's father's identity?"
"Aye, and my gut is telling me the two are linked. Remember when we were at the town line and you asked her what the Snow Queen meant by her cryptic remark?"
Emma nodded. "She lied when she said it was a remark about my future condition. I remember thinking someone must have hurt her because she had this… this—"
"Haunted look in her eye? Like she had lost all hope for something to change? I've noticed it myself a few times. It's a look that stared back at me in the mirror for centuries after Milah's death."
"She's hurting, Killian," Emma mumbled, "And I feel so helpless to help her because she won't let us in."
"She will, love, and no matter what happened to her I know she'll make it through it. She's a strong woman, like her mother."
Emma looked into those depthless azure pools, adoration and faith swirling within them. It had only been a few days since Erin and Liam had fallen into their lives but she couldn't remember exactly why her future children's appearance in their lives had shaken her so much in the beginning. Watching them over the last few days, seeing so much of her and Killian in them, she couldn't deny they were her children and she didn't want to. She cared about them, wanted to help ease whatever pain haunted her daughter's eyes and to playfully wipe the infuriating smirk off her son's face that he had clearly inherited from his father.
She still couldn't fathom what would happen to her in the future to drop all her walls but standing on the balcony in his arms, in the ruined remains of the place that should have been her home she could finally admit to herself that there was a possibility it could happen. A possibility that it had always been him who would break through the walls she had spent years carefully constructing around her heart. Leaning forward she pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss.
"No," she whispered, leaning back to look into his eyes, "She'll make it through it because she's like her father. She's a survivor."
The Dark Castle
The Future
"Why do you darken my door, Ingrid?"
The Snow Queen came to a stop in the middle of the vast room, noting it was furnished in shades of every conceivable black, the only light coming from the large, crackling fireplace. Maleficent stood in front of the fire, light from the flames flickering along the dark rubies that lined her black dress, casting her already slender features into sharper details. Choosing to ignore the frigid greeting she calmly walked over to one of the plush black couches positioned close to the fireplace and sat down, drawing her legs underneath her and smoothing her dress out.
"Would a little color in this dreary castle really kill you, Mal? I know your home is called the Dark Castle but lighten the place up."
Maleficent turned from the fire, her blue eyes showing no mirth at the other woman's words. "Don't make me repeat myself, Ingrid. Shouldn't you be off in the past getting your happy ending with your niece and the Savior?"
Ingrid's face instantly lost all humor. "There's been a change of plans."
Maleficent took a few steps toward her, her dark staff clicking on the stone floors. "I don't remember making any changes to the plan. It's simple really – I give you the means to travel back in time and you stop the Savior and that infuriating husband of hers from ever getting their happy ending. How difficult of a task can it be?"
"Everything was going according to plan – the Shattered Sight spell had been cast, Elsa and Emma had my sister's ribbon – and then I ran into some people I was not expecting."
Maleficent raised a delicate eyebrow. "And who could you possibly run into in the past that would have you scurrying back to our time to annoy me?"
The smile Ingrid gave was tight. "The brats."
Anger flooded Maleficent like a red hot poker, her grip tightening on her staff until she was certain it was about to snap. "WHAT?!" she bellowed.
"You heard me. The brats – our own dear Princess Erin and Prince Liam, in all their hero glory… am I annoying you now, Mal?"
Maleficent stalked to the high back chair adorned with an intricate dragon's head in iron, practically slamming her staff into the side of the table next to the chair. "Explain, and quickly," she snarled.
"I sensed the annoying Charmings at the ice wall I erected to keep everyone in the town and I couldn't help but toy with them. The spell had already been cast, it was just a matter of time before it took over the town. Imagine my surprise when I get there and the little brats show themselves."
"And you are certain it was them?"
Ingrid leaned back into the black couch. "They are a rather distinctive pair, Mal. I've had enough run-ins with them over the last four years to know when I'm dealing with them. But them being in the past isn't our only worry." At Maleficent's impatient look she continued. "Now, before I ask you this question I'll remind you to keep your temper and fire breathing, scaly alter ego in check… Were you aware the young princess has magic?"
Maleficent practically vibrated with anger, her hands tightening on the arms of the chair hard enough to crack the wood beneath them. "What do you mean she has magic? How does she have magic?!"
Toying with her large diamond ring Ingrid replied, "After the initial shock of seeing them I decided to take a page from your book, dear Maleficent, and strike were it would hurt the princess the most. My ice daggers were a hairs breath away from the chest of that bratty prince when the princess unleashed her magic – strong, light magic. I don't know how she has magic but I can tell you this, it felt just as strong as her mother's. Very strong, a very distinctive magical wave that if I hadn't seen it come from her, I would have sworn it belonged to Emma."
Abruptly standing, Maleficent paced the area between the fireplace and the high backed chair, her hands clenched tight at her sides. "How have they concealed the fact she has magic for the last twenty-six years? They would have had to teach her, she should have had a slip up in the early days when her emotions got the better of her…" A thought suddenly struck her and she spun on the Snow Queen. "What good is your inside informant if he doesn't relay important information?!"
"May I remind you, Mal," Ingrid replied slowly, her own blue eyes locked onto Maleficent's, "That my informant has kept you five steps ahead of the Charmings for the last four years. Neither he nor I can help if they took precautions in hiding the princess's magic. I was just as shocked as you are."
Maleficent snarled at the Snow Queen, her blue eyes briefly flashing golden. "Does you useless informant have any information as to why the brats were in the past with you?"
"As a matter of fact, he did. Apparently they realized the only magic that could unlock Emma from her frozen state was her own magic. Your dear old friend Regina came up with the idea to send the princess back in time to retrieve Emma's past self."
"This is your fault," Maleficent growled, turning back towards the fireplace. "If you hadn't gotten so impatient and attacked them, rendering the Savior unreachable, I never would have had to teach you how to time travel. Now we have multiple messes to clean up and it has pushed our time table ahead." She took a deep breath, fingering the large turquoise necklace that lay heavy on her chest.
"Do we know if they've made it back to our time yet?"
Ingrid stood, coming to stand on the other side of the large fireplace. "Our friend tells me no, they are in the Enchanted Forest of that time so Regina can make the potion."
"Interesting," Maleficent purred. "This could work in our favor."
"How?"
Maleficent chuckled darkly. "Oh my dear Ingrid, you have much to learn." She turned and walked back to where her staff lay against the table, lovingly caressing the dragon figurehead. "Leave the annoying brats to me. You just go back to your ice cavern and prepare your minions, restart the attacks against the Charmings. Also concentrate your attacks against Camelot and your beloved home, Arendelle. We don't need the Charming's closest allies swooping in to save the day."
"There's something else you should know. The Charmings suspect someone helped me with my little time traveling plan. They don't suspect you yet but it'll only be a matter of time."
"I'll handle that as well," Maleficent drawled, not turning to acknowledge Ingrid's irritated huff before the Snow Queen disappeared in a flurry of snowflakes. Picking up her staff she made her way to the balcony, surveying the dark forest that stretched far into the horizon. She was really beginning to question her chose in using Ingrid as an escape goat to get her revenge against the Charmings.
The Snow Queen had been an easy mark, her long years trapped in that magical urn making her susceptible to the smallest persuasion. All it had taken to get Ingrid on board was the ancient prophecy of the Savior taking the place of one of her long dead sisters. An ancient prophecy Maleficent had created to insure her puppet had no other chose but to seek her help. Maleficent's blood red lips pulled into an evil grin. Ingrid had latched onto the prophecy like a dying man, letting it obscure everything else except for getting what she wanted.
The Snow Queen's blind trust had served Maleficent well over the last four years though. She had been able to attack the Charmings and do sufficient damage to the royal family all the while safely tucked within her dark castle, their sole focus being on Ingrid. She had been furious upon learning of the mishap with the Savior at first. While she cared nothing for the woman now trapped within her own magic, it wasn't the revenge Maleficent had sought so hard for. No, that revenge was much sweeter, and she wanted the Savior awake and alive to witness when she took one of the most precious things away from her.
Just like Emma Swan had taken away the most precious thing to Maleficent.
Giving a soft whistle she didn't have to wait long until the familiar raven flew into view, landing on her shoulder. "My dear Diablo," she crooned, reaching up to pet the raven, "Gather your friends. I have a task for you to complete." The raven dipped its beak before taking flight again, leaving the Mistress of All Evil on the balcony.
A war was coming, one she would make sure the Charmings wouldn't win.
The Enchanted Forest
Present Day
"Why do you call me aunt?"
Erin and Liam looked up from their simple dinner of bread and cheese, both momentarily caught off guard by the unprovoked question from the quiet Queen of Arendelle. After Erin's conversation with their parents the little group had left the ruined castle, Mary Margaret breathing an obvious sigh of relief as soon as they were clear of its tumbled walls. Regina's castle was a good two days journey from their current position, weather and ogres permitting.
They had carefully made their way through the surrounding forest until the sun had set low in the sky, the stars starting to just twinkle into view. After carefully scouting the little clearing they current sat in – with Erin discretely using her hidden talent to make sure no ogres were near – they had set up a small fire and dug into the provisions they had brought along from the Jolly Roger. Which is where they currently found themselves, all seated around the small fire that warded off the nighttime chill, all eyes moving between Elsa and the two stunned figures from the future.
"I'm only curious," Elsa said as way of explanation. "Since we've met you have referred to me as 'aunt' and yet as far as I know I hold no family ties to either Emma or Killian."
"I'm curious as well," Will spoke up from the other side of the fire. Forgoing the few logs they had scrounged together he sat on the ground instead, his plate balanced on his outstretched legs. "The only interactions I've 'ad with the Sheriff and 'er… interstin' boyfriend have been less than unicorns and rainbows. But you also refer to me as 'uncle' 'nd last time I checked there was definitely no blood between 'ny o' us."
"The explanation is quite simple, really," Liam said before popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. "You're our Godparents."
The reaction was simultaneous and would have been comical to him under different circumstances. Clearly not expecting that answer Will all but inhaled the bread he had just taken a bite of while for the first time in his life, Liam watched his father choke on a rather large swig of rum. Emma's jaw dropped, only the choking sounds of the pirate next to her bringing her out of her shock. Elsa sat completely unmoving on her spot of the log, her blonde eyebrows raised high.
"I'm sorry, did you say Godparents?" David incredulously asked, looking to his wife sat next to him as if she somehow held the answer.
"Well, if you want to get technical Will is Godfather to the both of us," Erin said without looking up from her plate. "Elsa is only my Godmother, Belle is Liam's Godmother. But since we view both of you as aunts we've just generally accepted we have two Godmothers."
"How in the bloody hell do I become your Godfather?" Will rasped.
Liam smirked at his uncle. "That is a rather long tale."
"Bullet points, then," Emma said, still patting a choking Killian's back.
"Uncle Will plays a somewhat pivotal role in your and dad's big moment, which is really were the foundation of friendship begins. Over the next few years he helps with the various villains that pop up in Storybrooke and the friendship just… grows."
"I end up trusting that big eared git?" Killian chocked out, finally ridding his windpipe of the intrusion of rum. He couldn't imagine in any realm, in any time, trusting the leather jacket thief with his rum, let alone the lives of his children.
"You end up trusting that big eared git with our very lives on more than one occasion," Erin replied smoothly, looking up at her father. "Trust me when I say I would put my life into his hands willingly without a moment's hesitation."
"Bloody hell," Killian mumbled, running his hand over his face.
Elsa cleared her throat, pulling her dark purple cloak tighter around her. "And how is it that I become one of your Godmothers?"
"You and mom become best-friends," Liam replied as if it was a well-known fact. "I'm sure the two of you have grown close in this timeline as well, correct?"
Mary Margaret frowned at her grandson's words. "What do you mean this timeline?"
Liam set his empty plate next to him on the makeshift log seat, taking a deep pull from the flask within his black vest. Handing it to Erin who took it wordlessly he shifted closer to the fire, lacing his fingers together and rolling his shoulders. Erin couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. She had seen their father in that same pose countless times over her short life – relaxed, exuding confidence, and a glint of the unknown in his blue eyes – the pose of the story teller.
"Everyone believes that to travel back in time is to risk changing the future – and to a degree, that is true. But not on the complex scale it was always theorized to be. You won't change the future simply by stepping on a butterfly in the past, if that were true the mere fact someone from the future was walking on dirt they were never meant to touch would upset the entire balance. No, the future is changed when decisions that were in the past are altered. The future exists because of those decisions. Change them and, well, you obviously get a different future."
"Which is why you refuse to tell us anything concerning this big moment between Killian and I."
Liam nodded at his mother. "As Erin told you, any knowledge about a future decision could impact what decision you would make, completely erasing the future we come from. But if you go back in time and don't change the big decisions, just interact like we are, it causes a separate timeline."
"A… separate timeline?" David asked.
"Remember when we first told you that the Snow Queen we had been fighting the last four years and the one you've been dealing with for the last few weeks was one in the same? For your future selves when mom and dad came back through the time portal they still bought the urn containing Aunt Elsa with them. But who trapped her in it and why was completely different from what you know."
Elsa shook her head. "Who other than Ingrid would have a reason to trap me in a magical urn for thirty years?"
"Rumpelstiltskin." Elsa gaped at Erin.
"The old man who runs the pawn shop in Storybrooke? Why would he have cause to do that?"
"In the original timeline he runs into your sister in the Enchanted Forest while she was looking for what your parents were doing when they died. He wanted possession of a… item," Liam began, his eyes flickering to his father for a brief second. Killian tensed, knowing exactly what item the Dark One had been after. The same bloody hat he had tried to put Emma in a few days ago. "He forced Anna to help him and in the process learned of you, the young Queen of Arendelle with powerful ice magic."
"And if there is one thing Rumple can't resist, it's magic," Erin angrily muttered, taking a rather large gulp of rum. Liam looked over his shoulder at his sister, raising an eyebrow. Her dislike of Rumple was legendary in the family, almost rivaling the way their father felt for the Dark One during his most revenge fueled days as Hook.
Turning back to face the fire, he continued. "Wanting to learn the secrets of hereditary magic he trapped you in the urn and placed you in his vault. Mom and dad escaped from the vault, bringing the urn with them. You got out and with the help of the family discovered Anna was in Storybrooke."
"Wait." Liam sighed. His mother never could sit through a story without interrupting at least once. "How was Anna in Storybrooke? We practically tore the town apart looking for her and she only just showed up in a trunk on the beach as we were leaving to come here!"
"That was this timeline. We are talking about the original one, the one your future selves lived. In the original timeline Arendelle was also taken over by Regina's curse, making Anna a cursed resident of Storybrooke. You discovered this the first night Aunt Elsa was in town after she accidentally almost froze mom to death when grandma went through the town records."
"So the entire debacle we had with Emma getting trapped in the ice cave happened the first time around as well?"
Liam smiled at his grandfather. "Funny how some things are just meant to happen, right? In the original timeline a lot stayed the same for the Snow Queen. She accidentally killed your other aunt while your mother, Aunt Elsa, trapped her in a magical urn. Only in that timeline it was a different urn than the one you were trapped in. Ingrid wasn't released from her urn until five years ago."
Elsa gasped. "But that would mean she was trapped in that urn for—"
"Fifty-eight years," Erin finished for her.
"Who ended up releasin' the ice witch?" Will asked, motioning Erin for a drink.
"That we don't know," Erin replied, tossing Liam's flask to her uncle.
A deep silence settled over the small group, each lost in their own thoughts. Killian reached for Emma's hand, interlacing their fingers together, a small jolt of happiness shooting through him when she not only accepted the physical contact but also leaned her head on his shoulder, her blonde hair a bright contrast to the dark leather of his jacket. David put his arm around Mary Margaret, placing a gentle kiss to the top of her head as Elsa scooted closer to the fire, unbraiding her hair and running her fingers through it to detangle it. Liam and Will kept passing the flask between them as Erin leaned her head back to rest on the log Liam was using as a seat, her green eyes trained on the stars that twinkled above them through the break in the trees. She had never realized until that moment that they had long ago ceased being simply stars to her. She could admire the beauty of the night sky, especially on a cloudless night at sea, but they weren't stars to her. They were constellations; pinpoints on a large and infinite map that had been changeless since the beginning of time, a guide that always helped her find her way home.
Emma shifted suddenly next to Killian, her eyes going to her future children. "I've been meaning to ask, why does everyone look like they haven't aged a day in the past twenty-six years?"
"It's a side effect of being subjected to so many curses," Erin replied without turning her gaze from the night sky. "Age progression is slowed down by a few years with every curse you go under. And in this family we've endured enough curses to keep us young looking for the next 100 years."
Emma laughed, looking up at Killian. "That's good news for the 400 year old pirate's looks."
"Oye!" Emma smiled at the pirate's mock indignation, not noticing the look that passed between her future children. The banter between their parents about their father's age had been a constant in their lives for as long as either could remember.
"We should probably turn in," David announced, standing and helping Mary Margaret up. "We don't want to lose any time tomorrow and with ogres still roaming around we may have to stop frequently." They all quietly broke apart, moving the logs they had used as seats and unrolling the bed rolls they had packed from the ship. A watch schedule was quickly drawn up with Will offering to take the first shift. They settled down to sleep, weariness from the day's event quickly sending them into deep slumbers.
Happiness. She was filled with an overwhelming happiness that warmed her to her very core. She was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, the love she felt causing her to giggle. She wasn't the type of woman who giggled. Love had been abundant in her life, she had never known what it was not to be loved, but giggling made her feel like a little girl again running along the deck of her father's ship – carefree, full of life and hope.
She smiled even as the bite of the winter wind hit her face, the snow crunching under her unsteady feet. She was thrilled and beyond happy to be experiencing this but she would be so glad when she was able to walk without assistance. She couldn't even remember the last time she was able to draw her own sword.
Suddenly the air tingled, her senses heightened. The giggles stopped, the happiness replaced with alertness. And then magic sizzled through the air, dark and mysterious. Fear. Fear gripped her because she knew this magic, knew the destruction it could cause. She heard someone shouting for help – herself, she realized. She heard the instant sound of boots pounding in the new fallen snow behind her, the gasps and threats issued as soon as the magic materialized.
The magic was dark, eyes filled with a deep rooted hate. And then she was extremely cold, the snow biting into her exposed palms as her body slammed into it. No. She couldn't breathe, the sight before her causing her heart to stop. No, don't!
She was up, scrambling as quickly as she could across the newly fallen snow, her hands blindly reaching for the warmth that was always there. Gasping, there was so much gasping and pain. Words that had filled her with happiness only moments ago cut through her like a knife now, her heart bleeding from the pain. This couldn't be happening. No!
And then the gasping stopped, the stillness in the winter air suffocating. The dust fell slowly to the ground, taking with it all her hopes and dreams, depriving her forever of the happiness that had filled her. Someone shouted – not her this time – and she felt something whiz past her head only to bury itself in the snow, its target long gone before it could be reached.
This couldn't be happening.
She felt a hand touch her shoulder and she shrugged it off angrily. This wasn't happening, this was a dream and she would wake up from it any moment in the comfort of her bed. Happiness wouldn't be forever taken from her. She felt the warmth of a hand and cold steel embrace her, urging her up. Other hands came into view, searching for what she desperately needed. She couldn't breathe and her heart was pounding, a loud roaring in her ears.
The shake of a head destroyed what little hope she was clinging to. There was no hope anymore, no happiness – only blinding, red hot pain. She heard screaming, raw and painful, and then she was falling. She never felt the cold bite of the snow beneath her though, her senses suddenly overloaded with the smell of leather and sea. And then she was moving, feeling weightless as she heard sounds around her that her muddled mind couldn't determine. The only sound she could hear was the repeated voice in her head.
No. No. No! No! NO!
Emma wasn't sure what had awoken her. She slowly sat up, the light blanket that had been draped over her pooling at her waist. She blinked away the last remnants of sleep as her eyes adjusted to the low firelight, taking in her surroundings to pinpoint what had awoken her. The fire burned low and bright, probably kept up by the person coming back from watch detail. Taking a quick headcount she realized Elsa was the one currently on watch duty, marking the late hour as some were between two and three.
"No."
Emma turned in the direction of the voice, so quiet it could easily be misheard as just another nighttime sound. At first she didn't see anything, almost writing it off as the remnant of a dream but then she saw it – Erin's head thrashing from side to side, her blanket long ago kicked away, her body tense. Emma threw off her own blanket, quickly making her way to Erin as quietly as she could so as not to wake the rest of their group.
She was still thrashing around, her repeated 'no' becoming more painful. Emma had experienced enough nightmares in her life to know when she was witnessing one. Kneeling next to her future daughter she grasped her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake.
"Erin," she whispered. Erin remained asleep, her beautiful face pinched in pain. Emma shook her again, more forcibly. "Erin."
"Dad," Erin whined, her voice wracked with raw emotion. A single tear fell out of the corner of her eye, her lower lip trembling.
"Dammit, Erin wake up," Emma hissed, shaking her even harder.
Erin bolted up, almost head butting her mother in the process. Emma watched as her daughter's chest heaved, her breathing ragged, her pupils blown wide as Erin frantically took in her surroundings. "It's okay, just breath."
Erin's eyes shot to the kneeling form of her mother, recognition dawning in her eyes as to where she was, who she was with. She took a few deep breaths before running a shaking hand through her sweat soaked hair. It was a nightmare, another one of those damnable nightmares that had plagued her for the last six years.
"You want to talk about it?" Emma asked gently. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. She had cursed memories of comforting Henry through nightmares, holding him close and gently rocking him back to sleep but Erin wasn't a small child. She was a full grown woman and Emma didn't even know the root cause of her daughter's nightmare. This wasn't about monsters lurking underneath the bed – this was about the monsters that lurked within.
Erin shook her head. "No."
"It might help to talk about it, Erin."
"No, I'm fine," Erin rasped out, quickly standing. "I'm- I'm going to relieve whoever is on watch duty." Before Emma could utter another word Erin was walking in the direction of the designated watch area, her hands still shaking at her sides.
Emma sat back on her ankles, sighing. What kind of mother was she in the future if her own daughter wouldn't talk to her about a nightmare? Insecurity rose sharply within her, every fear she had when she gave birth to Henry hurling back with force. She couldn't be a mother, it just wasn't in her to be. With Henry it was easy – he had Regina as a second mother, someone who could pick up in the areas Emma lacked. But Erin and Liam only had her, a woman who had no mother figure growing up, who had no idea how to be a mother. She couldn't—
"It doesn't make you a bad mother."
She started at the sound of Liam's voice, her head whipping around to see him resting on his left elbow. The firelight danced across his features, his blue eyes somehow bright even among the shadows. His hair was adorably sticking out in every direction, completely rumpled from sleep.
"How did—"
Even in the low light she could see the telltale Killian Jones smirk on her son's face. "You're an open book, mom, always have been."
"You're too much like your father," she muttered, brushing the leaves and dirt from her jeans as she stood.
"It isn't personal."
"Isn't it?" she huffed. "Your sister wouldn't tell us why she kept Hope a secret and now she's refusing to talk about a nightmare. I'm supposedly her mother, Liam. It's pretty hard not to take personally."
Liam sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "It isn't, mom. It's just… complicated."
Emma walked toward him, crossing her arms. "What happened to her?"
His blue eyes locked on her. "It's not my story to tell."
"I admire the loyalty, Liam. I really do. I guess it means I end up doing something right as your mother. But she's clearly been through something and it's eating away at her."
Liam sat up, watching the flames from the fire crackle and die as they reached into the night sky. When she was certain he wasn't going to answer her Emma turned to go back to her bedroll and ponder over where she would go wrong in motherhood in the future.
"She lost someone."
Emma looked back at her son, his blue eyes once again on her. "Hope's father?"
"Aye."
"How?"
"In the most painful way imaginable," he whispered, his eyes showing the depth of pain he felt for his sister. "Like I said, don't take it personally mom. She won't even talk to me about the nightmares. She'll only talk to dad about them."
"Because that fills me with so much confidence that my daughter will talk to her father but not me," muttered Emma.
Liam gave her a small, sad smile. "It's an unfortunate bond they share. That's the only reason, mom. It doesn't make you a bad mother or somehow less of one. For what it's worth, you know all this in the future and are okay with it. Whatever helps Erin, even if it isn't you, is all that matters. It's all that matters to any of us."
Elsa appeared in the clearing then, having been relieved of keeping watch by Erin. She threw Emma a small smile as she tip toed around the other sleeping bodies. The moment broken, Liam laid back and tucking his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Emma knew she wouldn't get anything more from her son tonight. What little he had given her had been vague, obviously not wanting to tell Erin's story out of respect for his sister's privacy and pain. Bidding him a quiet good night she slowly made her way back to her own bedroll.
As she settled back down, pulling her hastily discarded blanket over her Liam's words floated back to her. Whatever helps Erin, even if it isn't you, is all that matters. Adjusting her folded leather jacket beneath her head she made a mental decision then, among the crackling of the fire and nighttime sounds, to do just that. She still didn't know how to be a mother but she could do this for her future daughter at least. So tomorrow she would pull Killian to the side and talk to him. If he was the only person Erin would talk to about this then Emma would make certain she talked to him.
Her persistent pirate never backed down from a challenge, after all.
