A/N: This is set before Neal is born in season 3, but Killian is not apart of this story. Emma is still feeling resentment towards her parents for the abandonment. Also, Regina is more "good" in this story than she was in actual season 3. One more thing, the villain in this story is a Greek God, his name is Hecate. Pronounced (heh-cah-tay). In true Greek mythology Hecate is a Goddess, in this story Hecate is a God, that is all. :) This is a story of angst, drama, suspense, and most importantly a family's will to protect each other and survive. Please read and review if you so desire, and if you have any favorite Once Upon a Time fics, please send them my way! Peace and blessings to you all.
Chapter 1: The Shadow King
Emma stumbled through the cracked doorway, her eyes were dazed and her balance slightly swayed. It was a type of staggering that was all too familiar.
This time she would escape.
Her gaze fell to her feet standing on the wet doorstep as the rain poured with gravitating ease. Scarlet droplets trailed from her abdomen and stained the damp cement. She struggled to focus on the descending steps, even as they shook, while the cold elicited a shiver across her trembling frame.
Footsteps struck the floor behind her. Instead of tumbling down the stairs she turned towards the noise.
It was too late. She remembered that it had always been a game with him and it always would. Her attempt was futile, she was never going to be able to escape.
Two words avoided the overcoming haze and mumbled their way through chapped lips.
"Help me."
Her knees buckled as she collapsed in his harrowing arms.
*2 weeks earlier*
"So he just walked over the townline? Even though he knew he would lose his memories?" Mary Margaret implored, looking at Leroy and his entourage of dwarves. Each one stood behind the last with a look of agitation that pushed Snow further towards easing their fear.
"That's what I'm saying sister, I know Charlie. He couldn't have just done this." Leroy responded with a tad bit of the same grump he usually possessed.
Mary Margaret knelt at the town line, tracing her fingertips across the gravel searching for evidence. With a shake of her hand to remove the remaining dust particles, she stood and turned to David slightly shaking her head.
Emma missed the nonverbal communication between her parents and instead turned to Leroy, still struggling to make mental notes of everyone's alternate identities.
"Wait, who was Charlie… in the- the Enchanted Forest?"
"Humpty Dumpty."
"Where is Charlie now?" David interrogated.
"Well when we realized he didn't remember who he was or why he went over the townline, we sent him to Dr. Whale."
"There's no drag marks or evidence of a struggle, he went over the line willingly." Mary Margaret said grimly.
"It's getting late, lets all get home and we can start fresh in the morning." David said.
Everytime things started to quiet down in Storybrooke, an unsettling tingle made its home in Emma's stomach. She was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and she had a pretty good idea today was that day.
"I'll tell you when I'm ready, but right now… it just isn't a good time." Emma glanced over at Mary Margaret and David while they took off their coats and hung them on the coat rack next to the door. "We'll see you tomorrow." Emma hung up the phone and placed it back in her pocket before following their lead and removing her own coat.
"Who was that?" Mary Margaret questioned.
"Regina. Henry is already asleep so he is going to stay there tonight."
Mary Margaret nodded her head, then placed her hands across her chest while her brow furrowed. David slid between the girls and headed towards the back bedroom.
"What did you tell her about letting her know when you're ready?"
Emma sighed.
"She wants to train me in magic, obviously now isn't a good time." Emma turned to head up the stairs.
"Well it's never going to be a good time."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Emma responded abruptly.
Mary Margaret sat down at the dining table a small smile decorating her lips. She gestured for Emma to sit across from her. Emma complied and met Mary Margaret at the table.
"It hasn't been long since you found out you were the savior," she couldn't help but notice the meager grimace that crossed Emma's face each time they mentioned the word, "and since then you've done nothing but- well, save."
Mary Margaret shook her head and leaned back into the chair as Emma's eyes dropped to her lap.
"I'm just saying, if you're waiting for the right time… it's never going to come around."
Emma looked back up. "I get what you're saying, I just-"
Mary Margaret pushed herself from the table. "You just think about what I said, okay?"
Emma nodded her head, this time a turn of her lips indicated her relief.
Mary Margaret's face lit up, "how about some hot cocoa with cinnamon before bed?"
"Oh-it's getting late… I should probably go to bed."
Just as quickly as Mary Margaret's face lit up, it fell in disappointment. She recognized the emotion reflected on her face and tried to over correct.
"Yeah, you're right. Next time."
Emma had seen darkness before, many of her foster homes were a testament to that. Even so, this was different, it was actively smothering. Each breath reminded her of another minute passed without even the slightest resemblance of sleep.
Emma rolled on to the other side of the bed, stroking her left foot slowly against the cold sheets. It was something she had done ever since she was little. She'd never thought about it enough to examine the habit, but somewhere deep inside it manifested as an act of comfort or better yet a coping skill for the external comfort she never found.
A slight rumble recognized as a snore echoed downstairs, the only resonance of noise in the dreary night. It deceivingly crept through the night as something that would ordinarily inhibit sleep, leading to a popular topic most mornings, and instead unknowingly comforted Emma.
Only one person in the loft snored, David Nolan.
Emma's immediate thoughts of him we're befitting, yet she still struggled to find peace between the two conflicting parts of her new reality.
Independence, emotional barriers, and stubborn-willed antics molded Emma into the person that came to Storybrooke. Very few things necessitated her survival. Now the description 'orphan' had unwillingly been interchanged with 'savior'. Her new-found parents, the epitome of best case scenario, only tried to give Emma everything they ever wanted for her. Nevertheless, a bigger part of the inner war reminded her that it was too late. Emma spent years diligently searching for her parents, years of unresolved resentment for the abandonment, just to be met with a lifetime spent only with loneliness. It couldn't be remediated so easily.
The weight of her limbs fought the urge to roll over again, yet in the end, they lost the battle. In the movement she pulled the covers high over her ears and finally allowed the tempting abyss to overcome her.
He could have made a dramatic entrance, but instead he decided to taunt Emma. It would be a modest 'hello', a foreshadowing of his plans, until he finally made contact after so many years.
She could try and push away the memories, the things he taught her, but now she would have no choice.
If she wanted her "family" to survive she would do every last thing he said. She would fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness while pleading for the return of his love. She would remember that he was the only true family she could ever be so lucky to have.
If he had to find more creative ways to recruit Emma to his cause, then so be it. For now he would stay in the dark, his chilling presence looming with each shot of ammunition.
The ammunition being their memories and the method being the town line.
At first he used the townline to dispose of someone that had gotten in his way, when he learned the effects it turned into a threat.
There are two kinds of people, those who think "I don't want anyone to suffer like I did." And those who think, "I suffered; why shouldn't they?" This was Emma's downfall, she fell into the category of the former, while he fell into the latter. Despite his best efforts to teach Emma the error in her ways, she still managed to care deeply. With time she had been able to control the desire to protect those around her but ultimately each time she failed, a little bit of that spark faded into despair.
And, oh, did she fail. He didn't have to do anything to insure the defeat; life did that all by itself, until all that was left was a wall, a wall higher than Mount Everest.
While this attempt to keep everyone out had succeeded for the most part, there was a minute spark of hope that had been ignited upon the reuniting with her parents.
He planned to destroy it. Not because he wished ill upon Emma, but because he was the only one that could give her what she truly needed. When the time came that she found herself with absolutely nothing left, he would remind her that he was the only one that could or would ever be able to love her.
This inevitable pain was a welcomed side effect to his arrival in Storybrooke, the path she was on would lead him to his true mission.
Nothing would keep him from the intertwined destiny, the long awaited release of The Shadow King.