Hello everyone, I'm back with a new fanfic, of course Authella. I hadn't really finished OUAT but I think that there's no problem with the point where the story starts. This is the first Chapter, I want to write something different this time, so I really hope you like it.

Chapter 1: Memorial to a lost love

She was dead. He hadn't realised it until the moment he saw her. Lying in that poor wooden coffin, not at all suitable for a woman like her. He hated her. He hated everything about her. He hated the way she had treated him, he hated the fact that she took advantage of his feelings, that she used him...but most of all he hated that he still cared about her. She was a monster, a murderer, a liar, he knew of course, and he hated her for that but seeing her dead made his heart remember everything. All that heartache, the love, everything he felt for her.

"I'll miss her" he exclaimed after he placed the only momento he had from her on her casket. The napkin she had given him at Murray's. "Fur's and all" he added, making a sad smile.

Despite everything, Isaac never stopped believing that one day, he would see her again and she would regret everything she had done to him. He believed that he could have a life with her. She was the only woman ever that made his heart race with just a single glance or glare. But now she's gone. Along with all his hope.

He couldn't stay any longer, he just couldn't. It was too much. He didn't want anyone to see him weak. He needed a moment to himself. A moment to grieve. He just took a look at Mr. Gold and started walking towards the woods.

"Where are you going, dearie? We have work to do" He calmly said still looking at Cruella's grave not even giving a look to the Author. "You can grieve about your lost love once my plan has succeeded" he added.

"I just need a moment, I'll be back" He quickly replied walking at the opposite side of Rumple's. He just needed to clear his head. A few minutes alone. Just looking at the water that was flowing under the toll bridge. Sitting at a rock near by, staring blankly. He buried his head into his hands until he couldn't hold it anymore. He cried. Tears bursting his eyes. Thinking about the life he could have had with her. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he no longer cares about Cruella De Vil, he couldn't. A memory always came in his mind.. "Well then, tonight, let's live". That thought always made him smile, no matter how sad he was, how angry, it always made him smile. The thought took his mind for a second but then again this flicker of happiness turned into tears. Just like that very night after their last meeting. He had taken the ability from her to kill. And that made her loath him forever. However he didn't only do it to protect the world from Cruella..but to save Cruella from herself. Hoping that she , one day, would want to redeem herself and be a better person. Making it more easy for him to love her. Βut now he knew, that she not coming back, ever. And that feeling of emptyness, loneliness, haunted him again. He was alone. He always had been. And he couldn't do anything.

Or could he?

Sinking deep into his misery, a thought came to his head. A very crazy thought, no one would ever approved. The quill... he could.. no he couldn't... the direction he had been given were very specific... but he could. But what if.. what if he could write her back to life? No, no that was impossible. She was dangerous. She would want to hurt the saviour, everyone, even him. He couldn't. But what if she changed? The questions, everything was turning inside his head but one thing was clear. Magic always comes with a price and he knew that this would be his to pay. This would be against the rules. The apprentice had warned him. He knew that doing this he would lose all his power. He would no longer be the Author. It was those few last drops of ink that he would waste just to lose his power and bring back to life a dangerous woman... who happens to be his only weakness.. He would be useless to everyone once he'd stopped being the Author. Moreover If Rumple knew he had at list an idea of ink, he would kill him with his own hands. It was too risky. But his heart.. his heart was telling him to do it. He didn't know what to do. Follow his heart? Or his mind?