Chapter Thirty Eight
The Rarest Magic of All
"Mirror mirror on the wall."
Regina was standing in the middle of the throne room, underneath an apple tree that had sprouted from the floor with great gnarled roots that cracked the tile and snaked across the chamber to curl around the marble pillars, dark as night against the pale stone. Blood red fruit hung heavy on every branch, nearly black in the dim light and as shiny as wax, while a mirror was set on the tree's wide trunk, embedded right into the bark. The surface appeared to be made of smoke instead of glass, it was a strange, swirling mist that obscured and concealed instead of reflected what was in front of it.
"Show me Snow White."
The mist began to spin faster, faster than the eye could see until it spun a vision of her mother, not the queen in soft silks and rich velvets but the bandit in rough homespun and oiled leather. A quiver of arrows was strapped to her back and she held her bow in one gloved hand while her hair was hanging loose on her shoulders, stirring slightly in the wind.
Regina's voice rang out again, "Show me the prince!"
Her father took her mother's place, a crimson cape draped over his shoulders while he hefted a gleaming sword in one hand and a polished shield proudly emblazoned with their family crest in the other. He faced an unseen enemy, circling around it with narrowed eyes and positioning himself to strike with a raised arm.
"Show me….Princess Emma."
She suddenly found herself trapped behind the glass, staring out at the woman who stared back at her. Regina had been driven into exile not long after her birth and Emma had never actually seen her in person, but she had found a portrait of her once while exploring a wing of the castle that had been closed up for years. It had been laid aside and forgotten in a small, unused chamber where the windows were shrouded in heavy curtains and the furniture was draped in dusty sheets, looking like ghosts when she pushed open the door with a squeak of protest from the long unused hinges. The dull glint of the gilt frame was just visible where the edge of the sheet had fallen down and she'd lifted it to discover a painting of a beautiful young woman underneath. Dark hair curled softly on her bare shoulders and she was gowned in palest blue, young and sweet-faced and for a moment Emma thought she had stumbled on a picture of her grandmother, Queen Eva. But she quickly realized the eyes were the wrong colour, dark instead of light and she wiped away a cobweb from the corner of the portrait with her thumb, revealing a name written there in faded gold script.
Princess Regina
The face on the other side of the mirror was the same though everything else was different, hair swept up high above her brow and the girlish blue gown traded for widow's black, sharp and severe and trimmed in scarlet.
The Evil Queen
A hand rose and the fingers curled in an unspoken order, "Come here." The glass dissolved around Emma when she stepped through the frame and she felt the fallen apples knock against her ankles as they rolled around on the floor. She blinked and they were hearts instead, blood red and still beating.
"My mirror sees all, knows all, reveals all. Look in the mirror, Princess Emma, and tell me what you see."
It was whispered low in her ear while the heavy skirts rustled behind her, sweeping across the floor and over the hearts. The mirror was completely black when she looked at it, as bottomless as the sea.
Her own voice wavered, full of uncertainty when she ventured a reply, "I see nothing."
"Exactly."
She couldn't see the face but she could hear the smile, the Evil Queen sounded pleased with her tremulous answer. More apples fell from the tree and one landed right in her hand, fat and ripe. It looked fresh and ready to eat and her mouth began to water, imagining the satisfying crunch of the red skin under her teeth and the sweet white flesh that lay inside.
A ripple appeared on the mirror's dark surface, a single ring that quickly turned into two, and three, and four. It roiled and pitched, churning white like ocean waves until it finally cleared and revealed who was on the other side.
Killian.
He was in a tavern, a foaming mug of ale raised high in one hand and surrounded by the familiar faces of the crew. They looked like they were cheering their captain, but no sound travelled through the glass so Emma could only guess what the toast was about. It seemed to be a celebration, perhaps they had taken a rich prize and had come to the tavern to raise a glass to their victory. Killian's face was flushed, his smile a bit too wide as he slammed the empty tankard down on the table and gestured impatiently to someone she couldn't see.
Regina scoffed from behind her, "A pirate. This is the man you think you love."
She wanted to protest that she did love Killian, but before she could respond a woman appeared with a pitcher in hand, cinnamon-brown ringlets curling against her cheeks and her shoulders left bare right down to the swells of her breasts by the gathered blouse she wore. She refilled the empty tankard while giving Killian a coy and knowing smile that made Emma's back go stiff. The pitcher was set aside on the table and her hips swayed theatrically under her ruffled skirts as she held out a hand. Killian touched his thumb to the middle of his lips, appraising her with a critical eye and tilting his head to take her all in. A lazy grin spread across his face and he said something that made Mr. Smee laugh right into his ale. The crew all knocked their mugs together and cheered again while he accepted the barmaid's outstretched hand, fading away into shadow when the two of them slipped out a side door and into a dark alley. He quickly had the woman pressed up against the wall, curling a hand under her thigh and hauling it up around his hip while her arms clasped his back.
"No."
Emma shook her head, wanting to close her eyes against the terrible vision the mirror was showing her but unable to look away from it. The gathered blouse was tugged down and Killian closed his hand over the woman's breast, fondling and squeezing with a smile on his face that made her blood run cold as ice.
"You are nothing to him. He calls you his prize, the silly little princess he seduced and deflowered."
Regina moved next to the mirror, caressing a manicured hand over the gilded frame. Her painted lips curved in a scarlet smile while her sharp nails tapped on the glass. The pair on the other side either didn't hear her or didn't care, too wrapped up in their passionate embrace.
"He loves me."
But her voice was small and uncertain, trembling like the leaves on the apple tree while she was rooted to the spot underneath it. Killian kissed the woman, pinning her wrists roughly to the wall above her head. It was him, his face, his ringed fingers wrapped around her pale skin, his leather belt falling to the ground as he shoved a knee between her legs with the ruffled skirts bunched to her waist. A sharp pain struck through Emma's breast, like her heart had just been pierced by a shard of glass.
"Does he?" Regina taunted.
Emma felt her eyes water as she stared at the woman standing next to the mirror, tears rolling down her cheeks and turning to tiny diamonds that scattered across the floor in a tinkling shower. The Evil Queen looked almost regretful, clucking her tongue sympathetically and pursing her lips.
"Eat the apple. See if he can tear himself away from tavern sluts long enough to come for you. But you don't really think that you're his True Love, do you? He might give you a bastard child, but he'll never give you True Love's Kiss."
Emma splayed a hand across her middle while the other clutched the apple. It was heavy and round in her hand, like a belly swollen with child. His child. A tiny babe with a rosebud mouth and its father's eyes.
The mirror smashed into a thousand pieces when she flung the apple at it with all her might. Regina vanished, disappearing in a blink as the jagged shards rained down to the ground with tiny reflections of Killian looking back at her. Flashes of blue and black surrounded her on all sides while she sank to her knees and screamed with the Evil Queen's laugh echoing in her ears.
...
Someone was holding her down, pinning her wrists to the bed in a strong grip while she thrashed and flailed helplessly against it in the dark.
"Emma! Emma it's me, stop fighting, please."
A choked sob escaped her and her knee suddenly jerked upwards, catching Killian hard in the stomach. She heard his startled, "Oof" as the hands holding hers immediately let go, followed by a pained curse that made her cringe. She'd hurt him, but he'd hurt her...hadn't he? The woman in the alley…pressing her against the wall….the flash of naked breast before his hand closed over it...but it was just a dream. Wasn't it? It had felt real, too real, watching him ravish her like the pirates from the darker stories written down gleefully in Liam's book. Fiends and Curs, who carry off any Virtuous Lady with the grand Misfortune to fall into their rapacious and Greedy clutches. Ravishment was bound to follow such an abduction, for Pirates are possessed of a Ravenous Appetite for womanly Flesh as much as plundered Gold.
She curled in on herself in a ball and felt him get off the bed, fumbling and cursing as he went. The ache in her heart refused to abate even though she knew it hadn't been real, throbbing dully with each beat while her head fell limply to the pillow. Killian quickly lit one of the lamps and cursed even louder when he burned his finger in the process, yanking it back and popping it into his mouth. The lamp swung wildly back and forth, shadows bouncing on the walls and he turned, looming above her as she shrank even more into the mattress. Emma braced herself for the inevitable rebuke, certain that he must be absolutely furious with her.
"I'll fetch your mother."
Her head lifted at that while the light slanted across his face and instead of the anger she'd been expecting, she saw only concern in the worried furrow on his brow and the frown on his lips. Killian bent down, groping for the shirt he'd left on the floor the night before instead of hanging it in the wardrobe and she found her voice at last, thick and unsteady. "No! No, don't go, please."
Her thoughts were a tangled, jumbled mess and she felt like she was on the verge of unravelling completely, but she did not want her mother right now. The bed dipped when Killian sat down with a sigh, the shirt bunched in one hand while the other scrubbed wearily over his face.
"Darling, tell me what's wrong."
There was a hint of command in his tone and the tart retort sprang at once to her tongue, "Is that an order, Captain?" but she bit it back as another voice whispered low in the back of her mind, planting seeds of doubt ready to flower, "You don't really think you're his True Love, do you?"
Did she?
"Emma, you're scaring me."
It was the fear in his voice that made her look up. Killian was perched on the edge of the bed with the shirt draped haphazardly across his lap. His hair was sticking up on one side and his necklace was tangled against his bare chest, the chain twisted so that the grinning skull and the tiny dagger were facing the wrong way. The man from her dream...and not. No cruel smirk looked back at her, only a frown that grew even deeper as he thumbed over her cheek and wiped away a tear that she hadn't even realized was there.
"I...I had a bad dream," she managed at last with a sniff and a hiccup.
Killian stroked along the sweep of her jaw, "Tell me."
The command was gone, it was said as a gentle murmur that soothed a bit of her disquiet. It took her a moment to remember the rest of it; apples red as blood, magic mirrors, the Evil Queen…
"I dreamt that you didn't love me."
Something extraordinary crossed his face, his eyes fluttering shut and his chest heaving with a deep sigh. "Oh, Emma."
He pulled her to him, the shirt fluttering to the floor in a billow of black silk as she laid her head against his shoulder. She fit perfectly into the curve of his neck, her chin resting in the dip of his collarbone while his arm wrapped around her back. The warmth of him began to slowly seep under her skin and she felt herself relax even more while the ship quietly creaked and settled around them.
"When you were aboard the Song I didn't sleep much, and the night watch was none too pleased about it when their captain kept appearing on deck demanding to know her exact position relative to the Jolly, but when I did manage an hour or two without waking I always dreamt about you."
His breath hitched, she could feel it under her cheek as her fingers smoothed out the kink in his necklace to make it lie flat and true.
"You were a mermaid, very fetching with a green tail and the moonlight in your hair. You were too fast for the ship to keep up, so I jumped into the sea to catch you. But you caught me instead and pulled me under."
The steady heartbeat against her palm was a quiet rhythm and his hand reached up to cover hers, holding it to his chest.
"Then what?" she whispered, sensing there was still more.
"Mermaids use their song to lure unwary sailors to their doom...but you wouldn't let me drown."
Killian shifted, pulling back and lifting her chin with his thumb brushing the dimple in the centre. He smiled, lips tilting up at the corners and giving a rueful shrug. Emma flicked a glance down to her feet and wiggled her toes before looking back up.
"A green tail, huh?"
"Like I said it was rather fetching, but I confess I do prefer you with legs, Princess."
She gave a tiny tug on the silver chain and their lips met. There was no burst of rainbow light, there was only the coarse rasp of his beard against her skin and the heat from his mouth. The lamp continued to sway back and forth in the corner, but gently now, the shadows dancing over his sleep-mussed hair. Was this True Love, this spark that had flared between them from the moment their eyes had first locked as enemies across a windswept deck? A smouldering ember that burned through the danger they'd faced at every turn, the ocean of peril, a living flame that refused to douse and unlocked something inside of her that she still didn't fully understand.
Killian made a noise in the back of his throat that went right between her legs, a low groan echoed in her own breathy sigh as he tilted her head with his hand and began to kiss a line across her jaw and down her neck. Her nightdress started to slip off her shoulder and he dusted more kisses along the slope, feather-light touches that made her shiver despite the heat that was pooling low in her belly. With a gentle push she was on her back, lying underneath him while he straddled her thighs and sat up. She was caged between his knees, pinned in place on the bed like a butterfly to a board.
"Do you want me to show you just how much I love you?"
There was something in the way he said it, soft, but with an undercurrent that was almost a challenge and she shivered again. If she said yes he wouldn't hold back, she could tell by the look on his face. His thumbs brushed the jut of her hipbones, over her nightdress in slow circles while he waited for an answer. Ravishment was bound to follow. Emma nodded, the breath catching in her throat when he leaned forward and grazed his knuckles lightly over her cheek.
"Say it, Princess."
"Yes...Captain. Yes, I want you to show me."
He reached down and untied the grosgrain ribbon that held her nightdress closed, wrapping the end loosely around his finger. His movements were slow and deliberate, pushing the soft cotton aside and tracing the line of her collarbone. It was a gentle touch, lightly skimming across her skin like the seabirds who flew so close to the water that their wings almost kissed the waves. With a pull on the ribbon the dress parted even more, revealing the white swells of her breasts to his watchful blue gaze.
"When I received my first commission in the king's royal navy I spent three days' wages on a single peach. It was the middle of winter and there was a hole in the toe of my left boot, but when we finally docked and I had leave to go ashore I couldn't resist buying the peach at the market before I found a cobbler. It was firm, but soft at the same time, perfectly ripe and with skin that felt like velvet. There was only cabbage and onions everywhere else, I've no idea where the peach even came from. There was snow on the ground and it was so cold I could see my own breath, but it smelled just like summer, and felt as warm as if it had been sunning on the tree just that same morning. The juice ran right down my chin when I bit into it and it was sweeter than honey after a month of nothing but hardtack and salt beef. I had to stuff my boot with straw since I had no money left for the cobbler, but I could still taste that peach for weeks afterwards."
Killian smiled, bending his head so that his warm breath caressed her nipple as it peeked out from a fold in her dress and quickly stiffened to a tight peak in the open air.
"Like velvet and summer," he murmured, closing his lips around the bud. Emma cupped the back of his head, letting out a gasp when his teeth lightly scraped over the delicate skin. It was quickly soothed by his tongue, and he did it again, sucking hard and then soft until the sensation was almost too much to take. Back and forth, left breast and then right, and when he surged up to kiss her again it was harder and more insistent with his tongue demanding immediate entry into her mouth. Her hips rocked up while her hand slipped down his back, feeling hard muscle and the thin, silvery lines of his scars. Killian palmed her breast, kneading it, rolling the aching nipple between his thumb and forefinger and giving it a pinch. When he pulled back she tried to stop him, lifting her head off the pillow and chasing after him for another kiss. His necklace dragged down the valley in between her breasts and swung back against his chest when he stood up, reaching for the drawstring on his pants. Emma absently ran a hand over the cool line left behind where the metal had touched her and his eyes narrowed, following the movement.
"Do you remember your first night on the Jolly?" he asked in a low voice.
Of course she did, sitting down to dinner with the pirate who'd taken her hostage wasn't a night she was likely to forget. She'd feared he would try something untoward, when he smiled at her from across the table with wine dark on his lips and that piercing gaze.
"I was afraid."
It spilled out before she could stop the words and Killian's face filled with guilt. "I know you were. I was never going to hurt you, but you had no reason to believe that back then. I'm sorry Emma, I truly am."
She reached out and brushed his wrist. "I'm not afraid any more. Not of you. Never of you."
The pants easily slipped down his narrow hips to reveal the thatch of dark hair and his swollen manhood, bobbing against his stomach. His hand closed around it and she felt a sharp throb between her own legs, the ache of need building to a near fever pitch.
"That first night I couldn't believe my good fortune. I knew your ship was carrying treasure of some sort, but I never imagined it was a princess, let alone one who was willing to go toe to toe with me. You have no idea how much I enjoyed our little verbal spar on the deck, or that lovely dinner."
His hand began to move, stroking up and down in long, slow pumps while she watched, mouth going dry and feeling slightly scandalized by what he was doing.
"I wanted you then. I wanted you in my bed, legs wrapped around me and my name on your lips. I wanted to hear you beg and plead for me."
Killian's gaze travelled the length of her, from her flushed face to her bare breasts, over the flare of her hips and down her legs. He kept touching himself instead of her and it made her squirm, he loved to touch her and usually he would have had her nightdress completely off by now with those clever fingers mapping every inch. But he seemed to be in no hurry to claim her quite yet and she'd never seen him like this before. She knew he wasn't particularly modest, the night by the hot spring had proved it when he'd stripped right down to the skin without a moment's hesitation - but there was something different about him now. Naked save for the necklace and rings, all of him was on full display as he slowly pleasured himself. His eyes fell shut and his head tipped back, a shudder rippling through his shoulders and chest as his hips thrust forward. Her own moved as well, tilting up the way they did when he first slid inside her and she wanted to let him in all the way.
When he opened his eyes again he looked down with a grin that made her stomach flutter, all white teeth that looked ready to devour her. A Ravenous Appetite for womanly Flesh. He climbed back on the bed and knelt between her legs, pushing her dress up and pressing a kiss to the inside on her knee. Emma lifted her hips at his urging and he helped her sit up enough to pull it off completely over her head, falling back to the mattress while he dropped the dress to the floor. There was nothing between them now but need and want as he lowered himself down, settling on top of her with his hair falling over his forehead in a dark sweep that she pushed back. Killian kissed the tips of her fingers and whispered against them, "Do you want me, Princess?"
Magic pricked everywhere skin met skin, his knees pushing hers apart, his chest against her breasts, the drag of him along the slippery cleft between her thighs. Was this True Love, when her heart beat faster and anticipation thrummed hot in her blood? Killian trembled against her, the man she'd been drawn to against all reason and sense. Her captor, her protector, her lover. Hers.
His name fell from her lips, "Killian," while her legs wrapped around him, hitching up high on his waist. She arched her back, sinking her fingers into the soft hair that curled at the nape of his neck.
"Please."
He kissed her hard at that, her plea a gasp against his lips when he pushed in at last with one callused palm sliding under the curve of her hip to lift and position her to receive him. For a moment neither of them moved, staring into each other's eyes.
"Is it everything you wanted, Captain?"
Killian gave a tiny shake of his head, "No, my lady. It's more than I ever dreamed."
A virtuous lady, carried off across the sea. Emma closed her eyes and felt him reach up to brace a hand on the wall behind the bunk. His ravishment was rough, hard thrusts that sank deeper and deeper until there was nothing but the feel of him, the brush of his flat belly against hers, the flex of his strong shoulders under her hands and his deep groans mixed with her own sighs. Pleasure rippled through her, toes curling against the backs of his thighs and fingernails digging into his skin. Killian buried his face in her neck, breath hot and chest slicked with sweat. There was no space left between them but somehow his hand snaked down to where they were joined and his fingers found the spot that overwhelmed her with bliss. He stilled inside her as he flicked and rubbed, it was magic of a different sort that made her shudder and clutch at him even tighter.
"I've got you," Killian said in her ear, making her whimper and bite down hard on her lip as he pushed her higher and higher until she could take no more.
She fell, quivering madly in his arms as he found his own pleasure in a handful of thrusts and collapsed with a muffled curse. He was heavy, but his weight on top of her was comforting instead of a burden. They lay with the sweat cooling on their skin and his head on her breast, his fingers drawing lazy patterns against her skin.
"We should have done that the first night."
Killian chuckled, "You only needed to say the word and I would have skipped dinner altogether. Given command of the ship over to Smee and not come back out for at least a week."
"Mmm," she hummed, running a hand through his hair, "A week?"
"Kept you all to myself," he said, kissing a rosy nipple and tickling lightly on her belly, "I would have told the crew to bugger off and taken you straight to bed. Captain's privilege."
Would love had bloomed between them even then? He'd wanted her, she'd felt the hint of it in his watchful gaze across the dinner table, the brush of his lips against her hand when he'd seen her to the brig. The same look she saw from her suitors, men who desired her but did not love her.
"There's more to this than just a bad dream, isn't there?"
She started, looking down. Killian propped his head up on his hand, eyes intent on her face and she felt her cheeks go hot under his sudden scrutiny. "What? No, it's...it's nothing."
"Don't tell me that it's nothing, because I'm actually quite perceptive and I can tell there's something else going on."
Emma turned her head, away from his gentle could see the mirror over the washstand in the corner, the glass was dark but for a second she thought she saw something flash behind the surface. Was it real, or was it only a trick of the light?
"Emma?"
Her breath hitched in her chest. "My first night on the ship…I was afraid, but in a strange way I was also relieved. I knew the Evil Queen would never come looking for me here, and I almost felt safe. But...she's in my dreams."
There was a soft exhale and he asked quietly. "For how long?"
She thought back. It was before the Jolly, before she'd set sail with a pouch of beans and a fortune in gems hidden in her corset...it was one night in her own bed, back home in the Enchanted Forest. She'd dreamt of someone lurking on the other side of the fluttering curtains that surrounded her bed. When she woke up, there was a basket of apples sitting on her bedside table that all the chambermaids swore up and down had not been put there by any of them.
Surplus food was always distributed to the poor at the castle gate, but her mother had the apples burned in the courtyard with a grim face before shutting herself up in her bedchamber for the rest of the day. Less than a week later, she was boarding a ship with Red and the dwarves and setting sail for another realm.
If not for that basket of apples, her parents wouldn't have sent her away, she was sure of it. There had been nothing but rumours and smoke for months, but the innocuous-looking fruit was a clear sign that the Evil Queen had returned from her long exile and was no longer bound by the enchantments that had held her at bay for years. If not for the apples, she never would have boarded a ship for lands unknown and been waylaid by pirates. A virtuous lady, carried off and ravished...but it wasn't like the tales in the book. She'd gone with him of her own accord and taken him willingly to her bed. If not for the apples, she never would have found magic or been crowned queen...If not for the apples...none of it would have ever happened.
"She can't reach you here," Killian said firmly, sliding up the bed and turning her chin with his fingers so she was looking into his eyes, "It's just us. You and me"
He pulled her to his chest, dropping his chin to the top of her head, "It's just us."
When his breathing evened out and the arm around her went slack, Emma eased out from under it. The floor was cold under her bare feet and she shivered, while Killian mumbled something and his hand twitched, sliding across the mattress towards the edge of the bed. She touched her fingers gently to his cheek and whispered, "Sleep."
There was a tingle as a tiny bit of magic glowed under his skin and he quieted at once, hand stilling. She covered him carefully with the blanket and kissed him on the forehead.
"Sweet dreams."
She made her way to the washstand and cleaned herself with a rag, feeling the echo of him between her legs. Her face in the mirror was still flushed and rosy from lovemaking, skin tender and hair in a fierce tangle. With a wave of her hand she was enveloped in white smoke that faded away to reveal a neat plait, shiny and smooth. She was fully dressed in her green bodice and brown skirt, cloak fastened on her shoulders and boots laced on her feet. The lamp was still lit and before she extinguished it she flexed her fingers and closed her eyes, picturing what she wanted in her mind. Emma felt it take shape and when she opened her eyes again a bowl of ripe peaches sat on the table. Plump and round, velvet skin and the scent of summer filling the air.
Sweeter than apples. She never did care for them much, anyway.
...
When the smoke cleared she was standing at the very edge of the water looking across it at the ship. It was anchored securely in the middle of the lagoon, the looming dark bulk solid and unmoving. Emma lifted the hood of her cloak over her hair and turned away from it, heading silently into the trees. The isle of the fairies was even more beautiful in the moonlight, silver moss as fine as spun silk gleaming on the trees and gold leaves fluttering gently in the breeze. Above, the sky was clear and filled with stars as bright as diamonds, thousands of them and each leading the way to another land. She used to stand on her balcony at night and watch the stars, imagining them all.
But the Enchanted Forest was her home, the only home she'd ever known. The stone castle filled with servants and courtiers where she had danced the night away at sixteen, in the arms of handsome princes and wealthy lords who had come from the lands afar...and the wooden ship where the men sang bawdy songs as they worked and her nights were spent in the arms of one with eyes like the sea and a title inherited from his brother. The Jolly Roger was home now too.
"Hello, Emma."
The little queen with her violet wings and matching gown appeared in a burst of light, looking completely unsurprised to see her. Emma dipped into a curtsey more out of a habit than anything, feeling the hood slip back as she straightened up again and met the fairy's expectant gaze.
"Are we True Love? Killian and I?"
It came out in a rush and she bit her lip, feeling a prickling sensation run down her spine. She'd heard the story more times than she could remember, how her father had woken her mother with the magic of True Love's Kiss after she ate the poisoned apple and fell into a slumber from which she could not be roused.
"That is not a question I can answer."
"Can't?" she pressed, taking a step forward, "Or won't?"
That resulted in a sigh from the queen, "You and your hot-tempered Captain Jones are far more alike than you know, but this case, Emma, the answer is can't."
"You knew we were coming here before we did. You said that I was born to break the Evil Queen's curse and the only thing that can break any curse is True Love's Kiss."
She smiled, wings beating rapidly against her back. "It is time for you to return to the Enchanted Forest."
Emma felt her eyes widen, shock running through her. "What? But...no, I'm not ready. There's still so much I have to learn, that you have to teach me!"
"I have done all that I can. You are not the Evil Queen, child, you don't need to spend a decade practicing spells or memorizing potions," the fairy said, "You were born for this."
"I don't want it!"
It echoed through the trees and the whole island seemed to go still.
"What was the point of any of this? Why bring us all the way here just to turn around and send us back?"
Her fury only increased as the fairy queen didn't answer, merely watching as she paced back and forth along the path.
"Emma-"
"Don't," she snapped, a rush of magic bursting out like a gust of wind that kicked up the loose dirt around her feet.
"Emma, listen to me. Whether you want it or not, the time has come. Regina is trying to enact the darkest curse of all once more, a curse that will tear our world apart and destroy all the happy endings. If you don't stop her now, everyone will suffer. All the people you love, including Captain Killian Jones."
She stared up at the stars, wrapping her arms around her. Killian had charts and charts of stars in his quarters, maps to other lands. They didn't have to go back, they could sail to any one of them. If she asked, he would take her away.
He loved her.
Emma closed her eyes, and made a wish.