Nagaraj watched his friend with growing concern. When he arrived at the palace several days ago James looked at him as though seeing him for the first time, though they had known since childhood. James withdrew himself from others, behavior at odds with his extroverted nature, and fished for excuses to be alone. He glared at and argued with his father much more often than normal. Despite his many faults, King George loved his son and Nagaraj couldn't reconcile the hostility the father and son showed other with the doting, affectionate relationship he knew they shared.

Perhaps it was the betrothal. On a hunting trip James had confessed that he and Princess Abigail were only pretending to be each other's True Love as part of an alliance between their fathers. Princess Abigail's lover, whom she refused to name, had freed her from the curse, but George forced James to take credit for it. The wedding wouldn't be for a few more years but the betrothal ball must have caused James a lot of stress, Nagaraj guessed.

James and Abigail danced only once and spent the rest of the evening sitting beside their fathers trying to look infatuated with each other. Nagaraj pitied them. The future bride and groom were both only fourteen and had barely had a chance to live before they were tied down to a stranger for the rest of their lives. Despite the respect he had for the man, the dejection in James' eyes made Nagaraj furious with George. How could he toss away his own son's happiness for gold? And though he didn't know Princess Abigail, he shuttered at the thought of loving someone so deeply but having no future with them.

But James didn't want to talk to him and Princess Abigail didn't trust him enough to let him know her true feelings, so Nagaraj kept his musings to himself. Drifting from one corner of the ballroom to another, like a leaf in the summer breeze, he paused to make polite conversation with the other guests and smiled playfully when women flirted with him.

As the party waned, a new guest arrived. Who could have been delayed that long? A young woman entered alone, garbed in a magnificent green gown and a shimmering clock of blue-black feathers. Tiny jewels rested in her ink-black hair like stars. He watched her dance with one young man, then another, then take a moment to chat and laugh with a small group of other girls. He called the herald to his side, who couldn't explain why he had let her in without an invitation. Nagaraj suspected magic.

With long, determined strides, Nagaraj approached the stranger. "My lady..." His words stopped in his throat and his suspicions flew out of his head when she turned her eyes to him.

Her face shone like moonlight on a clear, dark night, save for the points of color on her cheeks. Unlike the somber and formal guests, amazement and joy radiated from her so strongly it spread to him and Nagaraj struggled not to break out in a grin.

She bowed, "My lord." Her voice carried a lilt of wonder.

"W-would you like to dance?" He held out his hand, half-afraid she's reject him, but she accepted it with a bright smile.

She wasn't as graceful a dancer as some of the other women, but she more than made up for it with her enthusiasm. She made a passable effort to follow the music, but clearly focused more on enjoying the moment than impressing anyone with her skill. Nagaraj had to smile. Her eyes darted around the room, taking everything in with sincere, almost childlike glee.

"I never caught your name," Nagaraj brought up.

Before she could answer him, the mysterious woman turned pale and her lips parted in worry. After a second she blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Your name?" Nagaraj gently squeezed her hand. What could have upset her so much so quickly?

Panic spread across her face, "I-I need to leave."

She pushed herself out of his arms, gathered her skirt in her arms, and bolted. Nagaraj reached for her arm, but missed, so he went after her. The bright, bustling crowd obstructed his view as he dodged courtiers, guests and servants trying to reach his partner, but eventually he looked through a window and saw the shimmer of her feathery blue-black cloak retreating through the back garden. She hobbled; one of her shoes had slipped off during her escape.

Nagaraj tried to catch up with her, but by the time he made it outside, she had vanished in the shadowy haze of trees. Panting heavily he turned back to the palace. Her remain shoes lie in the dirt, starting gold and glass. Nagaraj knelt and picked it up, knowing he would see her again.


For the second morning in a row someone woke Emma up by knocking on her door and she wondered if she'd ever get a morning to herself while she was here.

"Hello?"

The owner of the inn, whom everyone called Granny, stood on the other side looking upset, "Sorry to bother you Miss Swan, but - this is so awkward - I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave. We have a 'no felons' rule. It's in the city ordinance. You can have an hour to gather your things, but I need the room key back."

Emma sighed and began collecting her few belongings, but stopped. Her record had been sealed because she was a minor. No one could have known. "How did you know I was a felon? Wait, let me guess: the mayor's office called to let you know."

Granny shook her head, "It was in the newspaper. Mr Glass-"

The rest of her sentence didn't reach Emma's ears. "Excuse me," she cut Granny off and raced downstairs to the magazine rack Granny kept near the diner's front counter.

Ex-Jailbird Emma Swan Births Stillborn Baby Behind Bars

She felt naked. She wanted to flee, to hide. How had Regina gotten her hands on this?

"Emma?" Someone called her named. Mary stood behind her, hands folded together and lips pressed together in a nervous frown. She looked over Emma's shoulder and read the headline "Oh god... I'm sorry this is happening to you. Do you... do you want to talk in private?"

"I... I don't..." Emma studied Mary's face, the pity and sadness written the lines of her mouth and eyes. "It's not your problem."

Mary took her hand, "I don't mind listening."

A warm feeling spread from Emma's hand, up her arms, and into her chest, but a cold memory stamped it out. She didn't know this woman. How could she even consider venting about the worst night of her life to someone else? Hadn't she learned a long time ago not to let people see her vulnerabilities unless she wanted them to take advantage of her?

Emma snatched her hand away. "I'm fine," she snapped. She fled the diner before Mary could react. Grief and shame and guilt rose in her lung like the tide, threatening to drown her. She needed to feel something else, anything else. Anger. That did the trick. Anger toward Neal, toward Lily, toward Ingrid, Regina, herself, her birth parents, her adoptive parents, the whole damn world for every action that led to her baby's death.

Without meaning to Emma stormed to Town Hall and into Regina's office. Only when she heard the doors slam open did she register when she was doing, but by then she didn't care.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Emma hissed.

Regina didn't look fazed; in fact, some amusement peeked out from under her veneer of mayoral dignity. "I could ask you the same thing. Didn't your parents teach you any manners? Oh, I forgot: they abandoned you."

Emma had had too many foster siblings jeering her about her birth parents to let it bother her now, "Did your parents teach you to be a criminal? That juvie record was sealed by a court order and I don't know how you got your hands on it, but you broke the law by publishing it."

"I didn't publish anything." Regina smirked, "You'll have to take that up with Mr. Glass."

"He did it because you told him to." Emma scoffed.

Regina waved her hand dismissively, "I don't know what you want me say, Miss Swan, but I'm a very busy woman and I don't have time to sit around listening to you make baseless accusations."

"So you think this is gonna make me leave?" Emma challenged, "A little public humiliation and the problem goes away?"

"Don't test me, Miss Swan." Regina's eyes narrowed, "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"And you have no idea what I'm capable of." Emma rebuffed.

"Well I know what you're not capable of: staying out of trouble long enough to keep a child alive."

Emma trembled with grief and rage, "You fucking bi-"

Every light-bulb in the office shattered. Emma and Regina both ducked as a shower of glass and metal flew through the air. The women crouched without moving for moment, before Emma rose to her full height, feeling the anger deflate from her leaving behind sorrow. Regina stared at her in astonishment and worry.

Something - a blurry memory? - flashed in the back of Emma's mind. That look seemed familiar.

"You know what, forget it." Emma stated, "You're not worth my breath."

She walked out of Regina's office looking much more confident and put-together than she felt. Her outburst embarrassed her. Emma returned to Granny's and, after apologizing for rudely storming off, showered, dressed, and loaded her stuff in her car. She'd slept in worse places than her yellow Bug and she refused to give Regina the satisfaction of running her out of town.

As Emma put away her last extra change of clothes, Henry came walking down the sidewalk and she waved to him.

"Hi Emma!" he ran up to her and hugged her.

She ruffled his hair affectionately, "Hey, you're here early."

"My mom's always busy on Saturdays, so we can spent the whole day together! At least, until 6 o'clock; she can't know I'm gone."

Emma crossed her arms, "So she doesn't know you're here?"

"She never knows where I am," Henry shrugged, "It's not that big a deal."

"This running away thing is a big deal, Henry." Emma scolded.

He countered, "But I didn't run away. I'm with you, a responsible adult."

Emma shook her head, "Nice try. I'm taking you home; apparently that's my new job."

"Can we at least have breakfast first?" Henry cranked up the charm, hoping to move her with his big, brown eyes, "You can't send me back on an empty stomach."

A smile overtook Emma's face as her turbulent emotions smoothed over. "Okay, then I'm taking you home."

Before they went inside, Emma grabbed the storybook and handed it him, "Thanks, by the way."

"You read the whole things already?!" Henry asked as they walked in Granny's.

Emma confessed, "Not all. But most of it."

The pair sat down at the counter and Emma ordered two stacks of pancakes and hot chocolate with cinnamon for them both. While they ate, Henry went on about his fairy tale theory and prodded Emma for her thoughts on the cursed characters.

When they had almost finished eating, the woman from the hospital, who's name Emma couldn't remember, entered the dinner and approached them. She looked like a college freshman who'd just pulled an all-nighter for a huge exam, even though her clothes and hair were immaculate: a starched, grey dress, red silk scarf, and her curls tamed in a braided bun. Her eyes, with their odd, icy hue, fixed on Emma.

"Emma Swan," she breathed, "Thank goodness you're still here."

Henry saved Emma the trouble of coming up with a response. " Priscilla Jefferson? I though you never left your house!" He beamed at Emma, "This is proof that you're changing things! You being here makes the curse weaker."

"Henry, now's not the time." Emma scolded lightly.

Priscilla stated, "Now is precisely the time. I've spent a lot of time studying and researching since I last saw you, Emma, and we're dealing with a kind of curse I've never seen before."

"You believe in the curse?!" Henry lit up.

"Wait, wait, wait." Emma put her hands up, "We don't know if we're actually dealing with a curse or it Storybrooke is just...weird."

"It's weird and under a curse, duh." Henry remarked.

Emma studied Priscilla, wondering if she believed what she was saying or just playing along for Henry's benefit. She conceded, "Fine. Tell us about the curse."

"Well one thing's for certain: it's some of the darkest magic I've ever encountered." Priscilla lowered her voice.

"Darkest?" Emma scoffed, "I can imagine a lot darker things than living in Maine."

"Dark doesn't mean evil or unpleasant; it means powerful or intense, and can be used for good. Light magic refers to anything magic that doesn't require much effort or have far-reaching effects." She explained, "I can't fathom how Regina managed to reach the Land Without Magic - much less being so many people with her - but that fact that she did makes her a dangerous opponent."

Henry sat enraptured, drinking in each word like someone lost in the desert finding a cool, clean stream. "She must be a powerful magic-user, right?"

"Or she had the help of one." Priscilla confirmed, "Though I have no idea whov would do something like for her; a lot of people hated her. She tried to usurp the throne and caused a war."

"That was when she killed King Leopold and framed Snow White." Henry interjected.

Priscilla smiled proudly, while Emma shook her head. "I think that's enough talk of fairy tales for today. You've got to get home Henry."

"But-" Henry spun around to face her, but he accidentally knocked over his mug of hot chocolate with his elbow, spilling it all over Emma. "Sorry!" He winced as Emma flew out of her seat from the stinging hot pain.

After a moment it passed and Emma looked down at her ruined top. Ruby came by and placed a hand on Emma's shoulder, "The laundry's supposed to be for guests, but I think we can make an exception." After asking Priscilla to keep as eye on Henry, Emma followed Ruby to the back of the inn, where a young Asian girl in a maid uniform stuffed bedding into one of the machines.

"Ashley will take care of it." Ruby told Emma, " You can pick it up tomorrow and in the meantime, borrow something from there." She pointed to a trunk labeled "Lost and Found".

Ruby left them alone, so Emma lifted off her top and handed it to Ashley with a thanks. When Ashley set the bedding away to take Emma's shift, she revealed her large, pregnant abdomen.

"Congrats." Emma said as Ashley took the shirt.

Ashley replied with a thin, bitter smile, "Yeah. Having a baby and then giving it up are a real cause for celebration."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

"I forgot," Ashley blushed, "you're not from here, so you didn't know. Kinda used to everyone knowing my business. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"I get it." Emma said, "Well, sort of. I've never had to put a kid up for adoption, but a lot of my clients are birth mothers searching for their kids or vice versa. It's not easy for anyone involved."

"Are they happy? People who've been adopted?"

"There are usually a lot of complicated and conflicting emotions involved," Emma explained after a moment's silence, "but in general, yeah; they usually have pretty good lives and love their adopted families."

Ashley's expression was bittersweet.

"You don't want to do this." Emma guessed.

"It's my stepmother's idea. No one thinks I can be a mom and she's threatening to kick me out if I keep it. Mr. Gold's already found a family and they don't think I should be too involved." Ashley croaked, "I don't have a choice."

"Screw them." Emma crossed her arms.

"What?"

"Screw. Them. Nobody gets to tell you want to do with your life. You want people to look at you differently? Make them. Because there are no fairy godmothers in this world."


When David woke, the sky had turned the burnt orange of sunset and someone had placed a huge blanket around him massive body. He watched trickles of snow dance down from the clouds and wondered, not for the first time since this King George inflicted this horrible curse on his, if he would ever return to his old life, to his mother and flock. He thought of the two girls who had saved his life, both only a few years younger than him. He ached to tell them who he was and what had happened to him, but the curse took away his ability to speak.

The injury to his side had lulled to a dull, throbbing pain that didn't bother him so much if he kept his mind on other concerns.

He had to find a way to break the curse, first and foremost, but even if he did King George might go after him again. David ruined plans years in the making; as far as George was concerned, that made David a traitor. Perhaps if he found the real Prince James, he could fix everything and escape the king's rage.

Prince James, his twin brother. David's stomach plummeted whenever he thought of his sibling. How could his parents have given away their own son? And let him believe he was an only child? Had there been something wrong with James... or him? Turning his face from the mouth of the cave, David pictured his parents; his mother teaching him how to sheer sheep while his father looked on; his father carrying an injured lamb home on his shoulders because they never left one of their flock behind.

He brought that lamb back home, but not his own child, David mused bitterly. If his parents have kept James, they wouldn't be in this situation.

He had no way to look at his reflection now, fortunately, but David couldn't contain his disgust over his new form; the ragged claws and odorous fur and savage fangs. He was a boy, not a bear, and if he never returned to his real self...

"Pssss, I'm here." The elder sister stood at the mouth of the cave carrying a basket on her hip so large it almost tipped her over. "Sorry we've been away for long - my sister and I - but our parents weren't pleased by all the trouble we caused that night. How are you feeling?"

David shuffled and gave a low grunt, wishing he had the words to properly thank her.

"Right," she smiled thinly. "I mean, are you feeling better?"

He nodded.

She gazed at him, "I can't believe you're real. I've been around magic all my life - my mother and I are sorcerers but she's only taught me light magic; nothing like this. Oh, I never properly introduced myself: my name is Crown Princess Snow White of Misthaven, but you can call me Snow. My little sister, the girl who was with us that night, it's Princess Rose Red, though she prefers Red."

As she spoke, David inched closer and rested his head on her lap, basking in the warmth of being near another person for the first time in weeks. It must be nice growing up with a sibling.

"Do you have a name?" After David nodded, Snow tried to guess his name and when through two dozen names before she gave up. "Can I just call you Charming?" she suggested.

David raised his head and made his face as incredulous as possible.

"Well I have to call you something," she placed her hands on her hips. "And you are rather charming, for a bear."

Snorting, David laid his head back down on her lap and listened to her talk about her life and family. Then she said something that flipped everything around.

"We're going to a betrothal ball in a few months, for King George's son, James. He's marrying the princess of Chrysanthe."

What betrothal? David wondered. No one had found James yet. George couldn't have intended for him to marry the princess in his brother's place, or else he wouldn't have turned David into a bear in the first place!

More than ever David wanted to go home, to be a normal thirteen year old boy again, without a secret twin brother or the king's ire.