A/N: This three-shot is based on a fairy tale I love, "Petronella" by Jay Williams. It's very AU and some of the characters are a bit OOC, there is magic, the curse never happened, it's set in the Enchanted Forest/Fairytale Land, and Emma never met Neal or had Henry.
Emma had always been too outspoken for her own good. The habit (she thought it was good, while everyone else believed it to be bad) had started when she had demanded to take sword-fighting lessons instead of listening to her etiquette instructor, and it continued until it became part of her very nature.
She hated fancy ball gowns and the mindless suitors begging to be by her side like some kind of adoring, clinging pets ― only animals were much cuter and not talkative, and they only wanted affection, not her throne. She loathed when her friends teased her to act more like a lady and less like a man, and she tried not to care when royal visitors ridiculed her behavior behind her back.
Still, there were moments when she was glad to be a princess. When she was a little girl, she had helped Pinocchio be reunited with his father, having him stay in the palace until the royal query had been answered, and whenever her father had audiences with their subjects, she would sit by his side and listen to their requests, even participating in their disputes.
It was simple: she liked helping people. It was just when others pushed her to "help" herself that she became really annoyed.
While Charming scolded her actions in public but lauded her in private, Snow always gave Emma the same secretive smile, silently approving of her only child in every way. Frankly, Emma had never paid heed to anyone's opinions but those of her parents. And in the end, they were all that mattered. Them, and the kingdom. She was certain of their love.
What she couldn't fathom right now was why her father and her mother were arguing so vehemently against her latest idea. It wasn't as if no one had done this before ― it was, after all, only a quest. She wasn't going off to fight a dragon...though that was an interesting possibility...
"Emma, this is absurd," Charming interrupted brusquely, cutting off whatever Snow had intended to add. "Those centuries of tradition you're waving in our faces apply to the first-born son, not the―"
"Are you saying I'm incapable of doing this because I'm a girl?" Emma challenged, hands on her hips. "Dad, I've been handling a sword since I was old enough to sew, and even you said just last week that my fighting techniques were unparalleled and my tactics unique... I don't want marriage to be the only climax of my life ― I want real experiences!"
"What your father is trying to say," Snow commented softly, "is that any quest usually leads to danger...and we don't want to lose you, dearest...not for the sake of impressing the kingdom or any prince. Your gender has nothing to do with it ― and neither does marriage."
Emma sighed deeply, resting her head in her hands as she slid to the floor. "I don't want to impress anyone ― I ― I just―" Stretching her booted feet out in front of her, she looked up at the ceiling, decorated with hundreds of painted cupids and flimsy angels with wings. At least they could fly away when they wanted, while she was rooted to the ground ― upheld by responsibility and her birthright and hundreds of other things which were both equally meaningful and imprisoning. What did she want, though?
When Snow and Charming reached out their hands to her, she grabbed them eagerly, standing up to nestle into their dual embrace. "I want to prove to myself that I'm capable of doing something on my own," she whispered. "Is it wrong to want to find adventure, like you and Mom did? To not wait for it to find me?"
Charming stared at her, a smile crossing his face when he shared a knowing glance with Snow. "No, it's not. But is it wrong for us to worry about you?"
Emma tilted her head, her eyes silently pleading with them. "Worrying doesn't mean something bad will happen meanwhile. Please...give me a chance? To prove myself to me?"
Letting out a disturbed sigh of his own, the king seemed to slump in defeat under his daughter's scrutinizing gaze, nodding. Snow only grinned, nudging her husband. "Seems like I'll need to get out my old quiver and arrows from the storage room..."
"For the thousandth time, if you keep contradicting me, then I'll just choose by myself," Emma snapped, brushing aside her companions' protests as she shouldered the quiver recklessly. August rolled his eyes, a gesture acutely familiar to when she had met him as a child and he was still called by his given name of Pinocchio.
"And may I remind you, Princess, that your parents the king and queen personally asked us to accompany you? It's not like Jefferson and I wanted to be chaperoning the most bull-headed creature in all of the Enchanted Forest!"
On seeing Emma's grimace and then her accusing pout, Jefferson tipped his hat at her in a meek salute. "Sorry, Your Highness...but he's right. We're here because we have to be, not because we want to. Why, I only have to go down that other path and I'll surely find my way to Grace, whom I haven't seen in weeks and who is surely missing me. They grow up so fast," he finished wistfully.
August only pointed at the last crossroad, the curse of having a three-way fork in the middle of a forest. "And I could be having a splendid time in Granny's tavern ― I haven't tasted the ale there in ages―"
"Or flirted with Red, you mean. You do know she's at least two decades older than you, right?" Emma retorted with a smirk, which elicited a pronounced frown from her friend.
"It's none of your business," he snorted eventually, adjusting his collar self-consciously.
"Hey," Jefferson uttered suddenly, watching as Emma and August paced in circles by the forkpost, "I have an idea. Why don't we split up and each of us go where we want to go?"
"Because that's what Charming and Snow ordered us not to do, by royal decree? I don't know about you, but I'm not keen on dying just yet." August shrugged his shoulders, clearly frustrated.
"No, I know that ― I'm not mad ― but we could agree to disagree, see what I mean? We'd do what we want and not tell."
"I cannot believe that the oldest person here is telling us youngsters to get lost and break the rules," Emma said, letting mock disbelief seep into her voice. However, she was certainly intrigued, to say the least.
Jefferson shook his head, unamused. "I'm touched by your reference to my age, dear Emma, but seeing as you're seventeen years of age, I have the utmost confidence in your intelligence and your decisions." His whisper pierced her ears. "Or are you just afraid to take a risk now that you have the opportunity?"
Something inside Emma snapped at that biting remark. Fear was a foreign concept to her, and it was going to stay that way. "August, Jefferson," she announced loudly, "go for a walk. Your assistance is no longer required ― by order of the princess."
She disliked using her authority as an excuse to get her way, but there was no other way to get those two to shut the hell up.
In a matter of minutes, August had run longingly in the direction of Granny's, while Jefferson was whistling merrily, twirling his top hat on his journey back to his daughter and her family.
A flash of passing sunshine through the tree leaves, and she realized her predicament. She really was all alone.
It was a difficult feeling to handle, actually. After being surrounded by people constantly her whole life, being deserted was a shock. She should be rejoicing that she was completely self-reliant at last, that adventure could seek her out when no one was there to fight her battles or hold her hand. It was right to dismiss her guards and "take the risk," as Jefferson had stated. Wasn't it?
Instead, she missed her parents and her home, and nostalgia was undulating over her emotions with a fierce wave of resentment. For the first time in a long time, Emma was at a loss at what to do next.
The final path, the road not taken, was beckoning, its wide-sweeping trees and shadows encasing some dark secret, some silent mystery. But her feet refused to move. She didn't know what she was looking for or where to find it.
"Having some trouble deciding to leave, dearie?" A chuckle broke the silence, and suddenly the person she never wanted to meet was right in front of her. Rumplestiltskin.
"What do you want?" she snarled irritably, fingering the helm of her sword. "And how the hell did you get here?"
"Ah, is that any way to greet a friend, Emma?" he grinned. "You do recall it was I who brought your parents together and helped them defeat Regina?"
She sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yes...but what does that have to do with me?"
He strode over to her languidly, his fingers splayed in a gesture of deep, sinister contemplation. "Everything. You're the product of True Love, dearie ― and True Love never fails to break any curse."
She was puzzled. "Why are you telling me this?"
He sighed dramatically. "For someone so sharp with a blade, you can be very obtuse sometimes." He leaned in closer, his eyes fixated on her face. "I have a...proposition for you."
Deals and Rumplestiltskin went together like bread and butter. Hearing that he wanted to make a deal with her, of all people, was definitely bad news.
"Let me get this straight: you've been following me, you knew this day was going to happen long before it happened, and now you want me to find your son for you―"
"You seem to understand it perfectly," Rumplestiltskin purred.
Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not finished. First, how did you know where and when to find me, if you're no longer the Dark One?" she countered.
"I may no longer have my magical abilities," he explained, gesticulating absentmindedly, "but I still have the gift of prophecy. Or have you forgotten what the stories say?"
Emma ignored the question, focusing on the details she was determined to know. "Okay...so you don't have magic anymore. Why can't you get Regina to do this?"
"Why, dearie ― I'm appalled at your ignorance!" he replied with a mischievous smirk. "The former Evil Queen was cured by your beloved parents' 'True Love's kiss' ― it healed the darkness in her heart and broke the curse on this land. She wants nothing more than to be with her adopted son and to never speak to me again."
"I can see why," she muttered under her breath.
"Anyway," he continued, "this particular task is beyond even Regina's powers. No, it will require yours, and yours alone."
Her jaw dropped open, words transmuted into soft gasps. How did he find out? No one knew, except for her parents. No one. The way he was eyeing her was getting on her nerves ― it was as if he could see through her, deep into her soul.
She responded through gritted teeth, "Did your special 'gift' tell you that?"
"Precisely," he snickered.
She didn't even want to consider all the reasons behind this, but she needed more information. "So you need my help," she started falteringly, "but you haven't discussed the most important part: what it is that I'll have to do, and what my...magic has to do with it."
Rumplestiltskin cocked his head, pausing before he waved a hand toward a set of flattened rocks nearby. "Before I begin the storytelling, tell me: how much do you know about one Captain Hook?"
Emma rubbed her temples wearily; though she was curious on that point, it would be wise not to ask about what had happened to Milah in the end. "He stole your wife, you took his hand, he tried to kill you with the Dark One's dagger―"
"And he would have succeeded," he rasped out, "if not for Belle."
"Ah," she nodded astutely. "Your new love ― I've heard she's very pretty and all too compassionate..."
"Leave her out of this," he snapped. "The point is that when I lay there dying as Hook," he spat out venomously, "started to transform into the Dark One, Belle's kiss saved my life and altered the transformation. Obviously, I didn't die ― but he lived. However, the magic of True Love halted the extent of my former powers, turning Hook into one who is cursed. The melding of dark and light magic fashioned a monster...
"He is confined to a virtual 'limbo' from which he can never escape, and although he is now magical, his powers are restricted to the boundaries of his sanctuary. He is doomed to crave love but never find it ― to feel powerful but to be helpless because he will always be chained to loneliness. He has become an enchanter who has breached the impossible: to possess power vanquished by love, which is in itself a very real, living curse because his inner self will always be in conflict with the shadow of the Dark One, the act of murdering me too dark a crime to be forgiven by selfless love. He has no morals."
"But he only attempted to kill you―"
"And he failed only because of Belle. Without her, I would be ten feet in the ground and Hook would be the new Dark One."
Emma bit her tongue, confused. "What does this have to do with Baelfire running away?"
He looked down, appearing to be ashamed. It was strange to see the man who had been so careless with people's lives suddenly caring about even one. "I drove Bae away...my lust for control repulsed him. He went to a Land Without Magic, offering that I accompany him ― but I didn't. I broke our deal to go together. Since then, I have been searching for him for centuries, only to discover that he returned from Neverland with Hook, calling himself Neal. That day when Hook found my dagger and plunged it into my chest was the last time I ever saw my son. All these years, he has stayed with him."
"What?" She gripped the tip of her boot tighter, shifting her position. "Bae ― Neal ― was drawn into this mess? How? I thought you said Hook was cursed to be alone―"
"Oh, he is. But you see ― it seemed my boy had grown to love him during his stay in Neverland, that he saw Hook as a father," he uttered icily. "And apparently, only one whose heart is pure and filled with love can enter into Hook's domain."
She scoffed. "And I come into this...where?"
"I'm disappointed in you yet again, Swan." He glazed her childhood nickname with the tinge of disgust. "Being the offspring of True Love, you can penetrate the barrier and save Bae from his clutches. Your abilities are infinitely superior to anything Hook can throw at you ― but beware. When within his realm, you are still in his reach. Any spells he casts are long-lasting."
She gave him a wry half-smile, trying to ignore the sickening twists in the pit of her stomach. "From what you said, it sounds like Neal is happy with Hook. Why would he want to be rescued?"
"No...it cannot be," he snarled. "He must be influenced by the curse. From what I've learned of its effects, it can dig into your memory and make you forget those whom you've loved. Anyone who enters its influence can be affected ― only someone with magic, like yourself, can withstand its pull."
Blinking as if after waking from a dazed sleep, Emma rose to her feet, exasperated by Rumplestiltskin's persistence. "No dragons, no ogres, no witches ― just a former pirate who has one hand, is confined to one place, and has limited magic. How is he such a threat and such a challenge?"
He smiled grimly in return. "Don't underestimate Hook like I did, Princess ― he waited over 300 years to have revenge against me. His feelings for Milah turned into a poisonous obsession that took over his existence, channeling only hatred ― hatred stronger than my own when I was the Dark One, my emotions strengthened and my loathing intensified. All that ― before he was further corrupted by dark magic. Just imagine his disposition now."
"But he's your sworn enemy ― why should I make him mine by running into his home and dragging away the only company he has left?"
He rolled his eyes childishly. "You're not going to barge in and make an entrance like that. No, I have something better in mind..."
Emma glared distastefully at the sky blue gown Rumplestiltskin had insisted she wear in place of her ordinary shirt and pants, which had disappeared. Her weapons had been hidden away in her leather bag, so she couldn't exactly pull them out stealthily and threaten him at knifepoint to give her back her real clothes. "Is there a particular reason why I'm dressed up for a ball? I'm supposed to earn his trust, not...seduce him!"
"Camouflage, dearie," he replied wearily. "If you show up in that outfit of yours, complete with weapons, he'll send you flying back home. Got it?"
"Because arriving in puffed sleeves and a ridiculous bodice is much smarter," she mumbled under her breath.
Rumplestiltskin crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently. "Now, since we've successfully argued about your apparel, are there any last requests, pleas...questions?"
Emma ran a hand through her hair anxiously. "What about me?" When he peered at her inquiringly, she gestured towards herself. "What do I gain from this?"
"You get your adventure, your quest," he immediately clarified, "and I get my son."
She pursed her lips, not satisfied with that answer. "No, that's not good enough. If I do this for you...if I retrieve Neal...I get a favor."
He scowled. "Aren't you forgetting something, Princess? I no longer have magic ― I cannot do anything―"
"A favor. Or I'm walking down the road August took and I'm not looking back."
He hesitated, contemplating her demand, before extending his hand to her. "Deal."