Next chapter! Enjoy, folks.
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Watery light lit the stone walls of the practice yard, dots of quartz sparkling in the slanted afternoon sun. Small plants had colonised the cracks where soft mortar had crumbled, enthusiastic flashes of green breaking the line of imposing granite blocks. The sand beneath Emma's feet was damp, the scent of unwashed bodies and leather hanging in the chilly air. Her breath steamed before her and she rolled her shoulders beneath the training clothes David had found for her. Her deputy was standing before her, clad in a padded doublet and grinning widely. Enough people were watching to make her slightly uncomfortable, leaning on fences and peering at them, enjoying the spectacle. It set her teeth on edge, though she did her best to ignore them.
They'd found Henry without trouble, a loud girl named Merida teaching the boys archery in a butt, and David had suggested sparring in the adjacent yard. A stern woman named Mulan stood close by, a stout staff in one hand and a frown on her face, having offered to referee. An incredibly imposing sword hung from her belt, clearly signifying her tolerance for fools. Emma then regarded her deputy, gut churning with discomfort. He wore a grin, clearly enjoying himself in front of the crowd. She reckoned some exercise would be a good way to burn off some of the stress from the previous couple of days.
There was something unsettling about these versions of David and Mary Margaret, cloying and overbearing. They made her bristle and ignited the desire to avoid them, to run, an impulse she'd thought she had outgrown. Her versions of them had treated her like a cool older sister, not as though she was a misbehaving child they wanted to tuck into bed.
She gripped her sword, facing David with a scowl. It had been difficult to stomach their disbelief and incredulity earlier, if she were honest. They'd clearly been uncomfortable with the idea of her sharing her life with Regina and the disapproval stung. She really didn't see them as her parents, that was too bizarre, but they had been important friends throughout her entire adult life. The way they had acted heavily implied they hadn't known she wasn't straight, though they'd not discussed the subject. It felt like coming out for the ten thousandth time, an obligation to straight society she'd always resented. Their ignorance about her sexuality also hinted that Emma Swan had been a hell of a lot more guarded than she herself was.
They faced each other, saluting quickly and settling into ready stances. She drew in a quick breath and tightened her grip, frowning at her deputy.
Without further warning, he lunged at her. Emma flung her arm up, her blunted sword catching David's as he swung it towards her head. She pushed it to one side, moving forward and mimed stabbing David in the ribs with a dagger in her left hand, repeating a move Liath had taught her. He sighed, his head tipping to one side in consternation.
"Not exactly in keeping with the rules of fencing."
Emma smirked to hide her discomfort and stepped backwards. "I have zero desire to become a fencing champion. I have every desire to keep my family safe."
Those watching nudged each other, wry grins lifting lips. Heads shook, clearly bemused by the blonde princess playing with a sword. Condescending because of course she'd had to resort to dirty tricks to beat Prince Charming. Her chest clenched, eyes tightening into a glare as she faced David, taking in his swagger and confident grin.
He smiled, quirking his mouth up. "I can empathise, Emma." He stood up, leveling his sword and adjusting his stance. "En garde!"
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Regina watched as Emma and David flung themselves at one another, practice swords clanging against each other. The sand of the training ring lifted around them, catching the low light as their scuffling tossed it about. Regina watched with interest, glad to see Emma finding opportunities and scoring points against David. She was quick if not technically gifted, using her speed and intelligence to compensate against her father's years of training and brute strength. Her heart gave a harder thump in her chest, lips curving into a smile as she watched Emma roll across the ground and trip her father up. She'd have been disqualified from any fencing tournament but her instincts were sharp.
You've really improved, dear.
"You asked for us," Fiachra announced, approaching with Conn. They all spent a moment watching Emma fight, enjoying the display. Henry sat with Oísín and Bradán, alternating between cheering his mother on and teasing her. Affection for her son and his mother surged through her and she bit her lip, concentrating on the matter at hand, forcing herself to look away from them. She still felt a bit shaky after her earlier conversation with Emma, raw and somewhat frayed.
Regina inhaled, turning to them with what she hoped was a neutral face, pulling her ragged edges inside. "I did," she said, "follow me, please."
They made their way to a store room, Regina closing the door behind her. She turned to the young men, pride rising at the sight of their steady eyes, catching her unaware. They were dressed in the gear typical of squires of the White Kingdom's knights, warm but unadorned linen and wool. She decided they needed their own tabards or badges featuring the crowned swan, to mark them as being under her patronage.
"Are they treating you well?" she asked, perching on a barrel. She gestured for Conn and Fiachra to sit as well, glad to see them sink onto a bale of straw without a second thought. They treated her no differently now, in the former seat of her power clad in the raiment of a queen, than they had underneath the broad canopies of oak branches. She was glad she'd decided against bringing them to one of the formal meeting halls or official offices, content with their humble surroundings.
"They are, Ms Mills," Conn said, shrugging. "We have a dry loft to sleep in and they give us food. Hua Mulan got us these clothes."
She nodded, making a mental note to ensure proper accommodation was provided for them in the near future. "You succeeded in your task and for that I thank you, as does Queen Snow. You have fulfilled your duty admirable and the question is, do you want to go home?"
Fiachra regarded her quietly, before sharing a look with a disappointed appearing Conn. His dark eyes were thoughtful, his youthful brow creased. "I suppose we should," he said, reluctantly, "we're not all cut out to be soldiers. But we don't want to leave Henry. There's fierce craic here, Ms Mills."
She felt herself soften at the sheepish expressions on their faces. "Well, I'm caught. Part of me wants to send you home to your families, regardless, and another wants to keep you here with Henry."
Conn bit his lip, his little goatee rearing up. "We aren't good enough to guard him. You can see the soldiers out there, they're much bigger and stronger. It would be safer to get them."
Regina shook her head wryly. "Oh, Conn. I'm not looking for bodyguards." She regarded them solemnly, taking in the slightly morose expressions they wore, so similar to when they'd approached that first town. The expressions of those who didn't expect to be given a chance, or to have much faith placed in them. "You are young. You all have talents to be fostered, but beyond that you seem to genuinely care for my son."
She inhaled sharply, fixing both young men with her stare. "There is a powerful witch tormenting this kingdom. She might target Henry. In fact, she probably will. There's nothing any soldier in this land can do to protect him if she attacks, apart from run and find me or Emma." She felt her brows crease with worry.
"Will she kill us, if we're in her way?" Fiachra asked, his voice steadier than she would have expected.
"Perhaps," she said, softly. "Most likely she'd turn you into a beast."
Conn shrugged. "Henry is our friend," he said, firmly. "Those men out there might think we're dogs, but dogs are loyal. What do you want us to do?"
Regina regarded the young man with a heavy heart, some mother's son doing his best far from home. "I want you to do what you've been doing, Conn. Enjoy spending time with him. Learn with him. If anything strange happens, send the fastest of you to find me or Emma. Do not try and fight Zelena. Do you understand?"
"I do," he said, solemnly.
She smiled at the earnest young men. "You both have the hearts of warriors, but not all of your comrades do. Discuss the situation with them. Whatever else, I expect you to train or attend school while you're here. Conn, if you want to be a soldier, train with the cadets here. If Oísín wants to be a poet, send him to the library so he might learn to read and write."
"And if any of them wish to leave?" Fiachra asked, his brown eyes shining.
"I'll make sure they get home safely," Regina assured.
"We'll talk to the others," Conn said, his voice steady. "But I think we'll all be with Henry. He's our friend. And you and Emma will be our queens," he said, firmly.
Fiachra grinned and Regina ducked her head, smiling at the boys' enthusiasm. "There are many who expect Henry to have a bodyguard, so at least on paper, that will be you. Shall we call you Henry's Guard, then?"
"No," Fiachra said, smiling smugly. "We'll be his hounds."
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Emma stumbled backwards, a ringing blow from David sending her staggering backwards. He swung his sword in a graceful arc, a cocky smirk on his face.
"Had enough?"
"Oh, only getting warmed up," she growled, righting her stance. She was sweating, her arms and shoulders aching from exertion. Her knuckles stung from where she'd grazed them earlier, blackened blood cracking and flaking off as she tightened her grip. Her chest was heaving, her clothes sticking to her with sweat. She raised her arm, clenching her jaw and her fist, leather creaking beneath her hand.
"Again!" Mulan called, her tone clipped and stern.
Emma let out a shout, surging forward and swinging out, her sword clattering against David's. It stuttered along the edge of his blade, the blow weak. Her strength was waning and David easily spun her aside, sending her to her knees.
She threw out her left hand, a sting biting her wrist as she caught herself on the sand. She managed to keep her sword up, blocking an idle swipe from her opponent. The impact rang down her elbow, earning a wince. David grinned triumphantly and tipped his head to one side. Annoyance flared briefly. He was kicking her ass but did he need to rub it in her face?
"You having a hard time, Emma?" he teased.
"Yeah, look at you," she chuckled darkly, "giving a rookie a smack down."
He lifted an eyebrow, tipping his chin to one side. "What, you think your dear old dad was going to go easy on you?"
It was as though a switch had been flicked. Her stomach dropped in a sickening instant of disbelief, burning at the thought of someone having the gall to claim to be her father. The world around her faded, her pulse clanging in her ears as her throat burned with sick amazement. Exhaustion and stress had stripped her defences, her heart too exposed to centre itself in that moment.
Rage flared through her, impossibly quickly, flashing down her arms and electrifying her fingers. Anger, old and nauseating, coiled through her and she drew her feet under her, crouching and flinging herself at the solid man, throwing her arm out with wild abandon. She roared, wounds that had healed in the safety of her wife and family rent wide open.
How fucking dare you!
His eyes widened, mouth hanging open as he took a step backwards. He blinked, drawing his stance together with sloppy haste, narrowing his profile defensively.
She stood, her pulse thumping in her ears, her jaw aching.
Moving without conscious volition, she found her sword locked with David's, pressing forward against him. His blue eyes flashed with surprise, doubt flickering through them. She pressed her advantage, getting her shoulder under her blade and heaving, both hands clenched around the hilt. White sparks flashed, crackling over her hands and forearms, static raising the fine hairs there as she drew her weapon back, preparing to strike.
"Woah!" Mulan shouted, rushing in from the side with her ornate sword, blue fire flaring where the edges met. She caught Emma's blade and turned it aside with a practiced flick of her wrist. "Enough! Break it up!"
Emma stumbled back, gazing incredulously at the palm of her hand. Light pulsed from within, sparking over her fingers.
"Fuck," she breathed.
"Calm down, ye mad cow," Merida chided, trotting up and grabbing her elbow. "Ye'll cook that daft git alive."
She wrenched her arm free, blinking slowly as she took in her surroundings. Her eyes found Henry's, wide and concerned, and she felt the fight seep out of her. She gazed around the yard, noticing that the space around her had expanded, that people were no longer leaning on the fences or jeering, that they were gazing at her with fear from further back, pressed into the wall.
As though she were different. The odd one out. The weird new kid.
"Emma," David stammered, uncertain. "Are you OK?"
She took her breath, cutting her eyes to Henry, to the pallor of his cheeks and the shock causing his jaw to hang loose.
She raised her gaze up to David and nodded shortly.
"Fine."
"Why don't you take a break?" Mulan suggested, firmly. "Give the others a chance to use the ring." She stepped into Emma's direct line of sight, her brow knurled with concern. "We might put Henry and the boys through some practice exercises, your highness."
"Emma," she breathed, her voice tight. "I'm Emma, not anyone's highness."
"Ma," Henry said, quietly, swallowing thickly. "Hey," he said, hopping off the fence and heading towards her. He wrapped his hand around hers, his fingers cool and sure. He turned bright eyes, deep and knowing like his mother, up at her. "You wanna get lunch?"
She drew in a breath, dropping her sword and running her hand through Henry's hair. "Yeah, I might go get some water, kiddo," she patted his shoulder, affection rendered clumsy by her jangling nerves. She swallowed thickly. "You stay here with the guys, get in some practice."
She nodded at Mulan, seeing the stoic woman bow her head minutely. Henry's mouth firmed into a line, identical to Regina's and her heart clenched. "OK, ma," he acquiesced, softly. "See you in a couple of hours? To get ready for the banquet?"
"Yeah," she nodded, focusing on him and attempting to ignore the spectators. "See you soon buddy."
She turned on her heel and strode away, not lifting her gaze to meet any of those around her.
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Henry watched his ma stride away, his heart sinking. Oísín approached him, pale eyes bright with concern. Leroy and several others crowded around David, glaring at Emma as she made her exit.
"Woah," Henry exhaled, shuddering. "My ma really does have magic."
"Powerful magic," Mulan agreed, stepping beside him. "You knew this, though, didn't you?"
"I did," he allowed, "but it's only come out with mom."
Merida shook her riot of curls. "Ach, but she's nae gonnae always have yer ma wi' her. 'Twas always bound tae manifest. Leave her cool off."
"Why with me?" David asked, voice soft as they wandered to the edge of the ring. "What happened?"
Henry frowned at the older man, honestly surprised he could be so clueless. "You're not her dad. You upset her."
David looked as though he'd been slapped, eyes comically wide and blinking "What? Henry!"
He folded his arms. "You're not," he said, softly. "I mean, we don't remember you as that."
David frowned deeply, sorrow in his eyes. "Because of Regina's spell."
Henry tensed, sensing anguish in the man before him and unsure of how to respond.
"She wanted to make sure the only happy ending was hers," Leroy groused. "So of course she'd make sure you didn't remember."
Henry blinked, frowning deeply. "Well, I dunno but you guys seemed pretty happy. Like, we were all happy. Leroy, you were dating Astrid." He stopped, clenching his fists again and glaring at the deputy who claimed to be his grandfather. He remembered his abuelito. He'd been a quiet man with soft eyes and wisps of grey hair around his ears. "You and Mary Margaret were married and you all had jobs you liked."
They had been happy. He knew that to be true with every ounce of his being. They'd all had fun and spent time together laughing and enjoying themselves. He glared at Leroy, a memory trickling through.
He'd been little, still in grade school, and angry about not being allowed to play a video game. Emma had tried to command him to turn off the console, which had led to a fight and him screaming. He couldn't remember exactly what he'd said, only that it had been bad enough for his mom to subsequently ban screens for a week. Whatever had been said, though, his ma had fled, running out onto the porch and sinking to sit, her shoulders heaving.
His mom pursed her lips, turning to him.
"To your room, now," she said with urgency.
"Moooom!"
"Don't mom me, Henry Swan-Mills!" she snapped, her voice brittle. She paused, drawing a breath and shaking her head, reaching out with a trembling hand. "Henry, we need to talk later about what you said to your mother but right now, I really need you to go up and go back to reading your book, OK?"
Startled by this, he'd agreed, scurrying up the stairs. Rather than going to his room, though, he'd run to the back guest room, hoping for a glimpse of his ma from the back balcony. He couldn't see her but he could hear his mom.
"Breathe, dearest," she cooed, "big breaths in and out of the bag. He didn't mean it."
Later, his ma had come to tuck him in, her face pale and blotchy. She hadn't said much, just wished him good night and told him she loved him. He reassured her that he felt the same, but her eyes had darted away from his. His mom had come in shortly afterwards, tired and drawn. She'd brushed his hair from his brow and looked at him with teary eyes.
"Is ma OK?"
"She's going to be," she said, confidently. "But you really hurt her feelings, sweetheart. We'll all talk tomorrow."
"What happened?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Why was she on the porch?"
"Sometimes," his mom said, her voice soft and very sad, "things get really overwhelming, even for people as strong as your mother, and they want to run away. She was on the porch because she needed some space."
The thought of either of his mothers leaving had left him nauseous with fear, which his mom clearly recognised. She kissed his forehead and stroked his cheek, her bright eyes shiny and filled with tears.
"She always stays, my little love. She always will. But those feeling have to come out somewhere. We'll all talk about it tomorrow."
And they had. It had been scary and kind of confusing, but they'd all talked and ended the day cuddled on the couch watching old movies and eating popcorn.
He blinked, returning to the present as Mulan patted his shoulder.
"She needs some space right now, your highness."
"Henry," he said, softly. "Just Henry."
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After a quick meeting with Misthaven's head seamstress and a brief visit to the library to check on the progress of her potions, Regina found herself gazing out her window, taking in the pale lavender of evening and the shadows enveloping the forest beneath them. She held the two black feathers Liath had gifted her, in what felt like another life, taking in the slightly ragged edges and the glossy sheen. She closed her eyes and let herself be drawn to the other woman's side, vanishing in a plume of magic.
She found herself on the very top of the castle, nestled between chimney stacks and surrounded by the smell of wood smoke. A little hut sat in the lee of one of the stacks, ramshackle and collapsing. It looked as though it had been there for many years and she briefly wondered who'd built it.
"Who goes?" Liath called, chuckling fondly. Regina turned and walked towards the older woman, approaching very carefully, her heels not quite designed for roof tiles. Liath was sitting on a small balustrade, her legs dangling off the other side and over a long drop. Regina swallowed, pausing quite a bit before she reached the edge.
"A friend," she said, softly. "Bearing gifts," she hummed. "Or rather, returning them."
Liath turned, her pale eyes meeting her own, soft and sad in the evening light. "Oh, I think you should keep those. I know where to find more, after all."
Regina nodded her thanks before glancing around. "What little hideaway did you find?"
Liath shrugged eloquently. "Dunno, but it's quiet and I am a hermit. Was a bit busy below."
Regina hummed, feeling a smile tug her lips up. "I see." They shared the evening air for a moment, watching the sun sink below the horizon and the first stars twinkle into being in the clear sky. She'd missed this, she'd confess. The land without magic didn't have skies like this realm did. The memory of Emma Swan's eyes shining beneath an endless vault of glinting stars filled her mind, warming her chest with emotion.
"Thank you, Liath," she whispered, injecting every ounce of sincerity that she could into her quiet words. "Thank you for bringing my family back to me."
"You're welcome," she said, graciously, "though you've thanked me before."
"Well, thank you for bringing us all here in one piece. Thank you for keeping us safe on the road."
Liath rubbed her chin, gazing out over the forest. "I told you I would."
She'd also said there'd be a cost, Regina mused. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together, keenly aware that there was still a price to pay.
"Oísín is well," she stated, earning Regina's attention. "I'm glad. He's a good boy. Are they going to stay?"
"I've invited them to," she sighed. "Though part of me wants them away from here and safe."
"Safe?" she snorted. "Oísín is an orphan. He was fostered by Fiachra's family, as they are distant cousins. Art's father is a drunkard who can't afford to feed his children. Conn's mother can't keep his little siblings in shoe leather." She shook her head sadly. "They eke out an existence on the edge of the world. Do you think they would have left if there'd been anything worth staying for?" she asked, her pale eyes shining with some inner light. Regina felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and she swallowed back against rising bile.
"You never know how close you are to the edge," she said, her voice flat, "until you find yourself there. If they wish to stay, let them. Use your coin and your influence to help them better themselves."
"I will," Regina promised, watching the play of smoke across the roof, small blue clouds sliding behind Liath as they hurried from the chimneys. Liath looked very strange then, ancient and fey and not entirely human. The small hairs on her arms rose and her fingertips tingled. "Who are you, really?"
"My name is Liath," she answered, simply. "I'm good at finding paths that others can't."
"You're immortal."
"I am nothing of the sort," she retorted, sounding almost offended.
"You're old, though," Regina said, suddenly feeling as unsettled as she had during her first few encounters with Rumple. Liath sat up, the friendly and feckless affect sliding away from her as she straightened. She stood, tall and proud in the dusk.
"I am," she confirmed. "But I can die," she paused, eyes wandering over Regina's face for a moment, some decision weighing heavily upon her. "I will die. And that day is closer now than it has been for a long time."
Regina frowned, stepping forward. "What?"
"All magic comes at a price," she said, smiling sadly. "And bringing back someone on death's door? Dear bought."
Regina's heart thumped in her chest and she felt a chill sluice down her spine, cloying and perishing. "Explain," she commanded, earning a fond scoff.
"Well, it's complicated," she said, huffing a breath out and folding her arms over her chest. "I'm no one special, just a lucky wanderer. I found the island when I was very young and gained its trust..." she frowned.
"If you go north now, retrace your steps, you will find that place. You'll find my cottage and you'll find my cranky sheep. My little gardens,"she said, her voice tight. "But that thing," she lifted her eyes, piercing and unpitying, "that feeling that brought you to the edges of yourself? That almost had you fling yourself from the cliffs? That's gone."
Regina gasped, drawing in a shuddering breath and blinking rapidly. She sank to sit on a stubby chimney stack, shaking at the words.
"That feeling? It comes from being so close to the void. From keeping a portion of it there." Liath carried on, frowning mightily, "that was what allowed me to travel safely and easily between worlds. The paths I found, or trampled, I kept with me and centred on the island. It came to exist outside space and time, a hub for all the paths I'd found."
She turned her face to one side, grief lighting her. "And as its curator, I existed outside of time, granting me a long life. You can do what you want, you know, as long as you keep to the edge of things. As long as you don't get too involved. As long as no one important notices. I was allowed to use that power as long as I didn't interfere too much or draw undue attention."
Regina frowned, the complicated explanation causing her to pause for a moment to digest the information.
"But you did interfere. You brought Emma and Henry to us."
Liath shrugged. "Oh, they were always going to return to you. Don't doubt that. You would have found a way. Any number of people could have done what I did, though maybe in a slightly different manner. But in that moment in the woods, that boy was dying. We changed that."
"I changed that," Regina cried, frustration welling. "Yet you're the one who'll pay for it?"
Liath sighed, old and worn in that moment. She sat beside Regina, regarding her with weary eyes. "You have led a longer life than many, but still much shorter than mine. As long as Oísín lives, the island is just a rock in the ocean."
"And without access to your power there," Regina said, hotly, "you'll die."
"I'll die," she confirmed, quietly. "But likely not for a while. Time will catch up with me, as it does us all. It might be slow or it might be quick. But, sure, that's the way of living. It always has the same ending."
"I'm so sorry," she said, her throat tightening. She genuinely meant it, as well, as the injustice of the situation pierced her chest.
"Don't be," Liath chided, affection in her voice. "I'm glad we did what we did and I'm glad I met you all. Death isn't an evil thing, Regina." She bumped their shoulders together. "Here, promise me you'll wake me for three days before you shove me in the ground, right?"
Regina felt tears building and she swiped at her eyes, shaking her head. "Four."
"And tap a barrel of ale?"
"And a cask of brandy," she said, tears running over her cheeks, despite her best efforts. Liath grimaced.
"Whiskey or gin, brandy gives me a ferocious hangover." She bumped her shoulder against Regina's again before briefly squeezing her shoulder. "Imagine starting to explore the paths beyond life with a hungover head on ye. Nightmare."
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Emma stomped through the kitchen, huffing her way down narrow stairs into the depths of the castle under croft. She knew she'd be spotted outdoors and really didn't want to face anyone right now, except perhaps her wife. Her arm was still tingling, though she wasn't producing light or sparks. Wandering through the bowels of the castle, she found herself pacing down a long corridor, elegant arches to either side forming the foundations of the keep. Though the light was dim, every arch held a group of people, from jewelers to scribes, and the sound of industry and conversation rang through the stifling air.
She caught a whiff of malt and turned, wandering down a long, poorly lit arch cluttered with tables and low benches. At the far end, a trestle table in front of a couple of barrels of beer formed a bar and she marched straight there. The light was dim, candles burning in sconces along the wall providing flickering illumination.
The bartender grinned up at her, a pleasant smile on his ruddy face.
"Beer," Emma grunted.
"Lager, ale or porter?" he asked.
Emma narrowed her eyes, not being entirely sure what he was talking about but figuring she needed to dance to fairy tale beats.
"Ale?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly. He nodded and got about pouring her a pint. She mumbled something about charging it to her parents and wandered into a dark corner, sipping the drink in front of her.
Jesus fucking Christ, what had she stumbled in to?
It had been awful earlier. Anger had just erupted from nowhere. It had been so long since she'd felt like that, such a long reprieve from that sickening rage that she hoped she'd grown out of it. Though a lot of people had assured her that she'd grown since a lost eighteen year old had appeared in Storybrooke, she'd never forgotten what she'd been.
An angry, lost orphan only ever an inch away from lashing out or running away. A child who'd been hurt and didn't care if her actions hurt others. Only now, rather than running or tossing caustic remarks, it appeared she could fling magic. It was close to unbelievable.
However, traveling across realms and knitting chests back together had convinced her of the existence of magic. She also realised that despite being in possession of same, she had little idea how to control it. Was she dangerous? Could that light show have harmed David? Regina had wielded real fire in her hands, after all. Could she hurt people?
She took a long sip of beer and grimaced. It was pretty warm and tasted kind of soapy. She rubbed her forehead wearily and sighed. She found herself wondering what kind of person Emma Swan had been, a lonely child without a reason to grow up. A teenage ex-con who'd never had the support of people who cared for her or had to realise how much damage her anger could inflict. Had she had any sort of a life before coming to Storybrooke, she wondered. She sipped her beer again, contemplative.
If it weren't for Regina and Henry, she'd be finding the next damn path back to New York without delay, wicked witch of the west be damned. She would have preferred nothing better than to bring her wife and son home, to bring them back to Mifflin Street and curl up on the couch with them and forget this whole crazy series of events had ever happened.
But was that her? Even though it had been difficult to adjust, and trust had been slow to come, she'd done her best to be there for the people who cared for her. She'd had no choice but to adapt, for Henry's sake. Regina had been no different and being parents to Henry, in some ways they'd become parents to all their friends. A stable and calm house, fridge always full and shower always hot. Their couch, and afterwards the guest rooms in Mifflin Street, had always been open to those who'd needed sanctuary. They wouldn't have left their friends in difficult circumstances and she knew in her heart of hearts that she wouldn't now.
Emma let her head thump onto the bench in front of her, groaning softly. She wasn't cut out for this. She'd been just about able to manage being the sheriff of a small town. Being saviour to a kingdom and some sort of princess? Way above her pay grade and her natural inclination.
"Cheer up," a familiar voice drawled, "no one's dead yet."
Emma lifted her face as Ruby, or Red, placed two reassuringly large drinking vessels in front of her. She blinked at them, lifting her head and peering within. She was very pleased to find beer inside, as her own was empty.
"Thanks, Rubes," she sighed. She took a long sip, sighing at the malty taste. "A flagon of ale and a sympathetic ear."
Red took a long swig and lifted an expressive eyebrow. "Technically, this is a tankard and the contents a lager."
Emma let her head smack against the table once more. "I am really bad at this."
Ruby snorted, sipping her beer. "Thank Christ someone else is," she sighed deeply. "How you holding up?"
"What? Like apart from finding out my dead wife is alive, I gave our son up for adoption, my friends are my greatly resented parents and I'm a damn fairy tale princess? And I have magic that I need to use to prevent a wicked witch from conquering the land? Just fine."
The taller woman sighed. "Yeah. That all sucks." She blinked. "Apart from finding out your wife was alive, that was good."
Emma took a long pull from her lager, licking the foam from her upper lip. "You said it, Rubes. Uh, Red."
Her friend shrugged. "Rubes is fine, Emma. I know this is tricky to adjust to." She sighed. "What do you remember?"
"That I got knocked up, came to Storybrooke, fell in love with Regina and made a lot of friends. Regina and I raised Henry and then she died in a car crash," she said, having become eerily practiced with the spiel. "Henry and I fled to New York, and were brought back by Liath."
"Jesus," Ruby sighed. "Heavy."
"Yeah," she sighed. "so you're really a werewolf?"
Ruby chuckled grimly and nodded. "Yup. What big teeth I have, and all."
Emma shook her head, laughing softly. She took in her friend, the one she'd gone out with and gotten messy drunk with when she'd needed to blow off steam. The one who'd understood what it was like to not have parents to complain about or go home to. The one who'd been searching for her place in the world much as Emma had been.
"Tell me about the Emma you knew," she asked, her voice cracking. She needed to know. She needed to prepare herself to face the worst. After all, she mused sadly, she'd always been her own worst enemy. The flash of sadness across Ruby's face told her all she needed to know but she smiled anyway and sipped her beer.
"Well, she showed up in this crappy little tin can, attitude and leather and nothing to lose."
SQSQSQSQ
Urgh. This chapter did not want to come. I rewrote it three times and am still not convinced. Would be interested to hear what people think so drop a comment!