Hello my darlings!
Another chapter between my huge caseload at school... Not sure when I'll be able to get the next chapter up. This is largely unbeta'd but will be replaced with the beta'd version in a few days ;)
I just wanted to get the chapter up before the next episode :D
Love, Annaelle
PS Thank you to all those who have read, faved, followed, reviewed and loved already! I love all of you!
Chapter Four—Love Me Do
Love, love me do
You know I love you
I'll always be true
So please, love me do
Oh, love me do
Someone to love
Someone new
Someone to love
Someone like you
—Love Me Do, The Beatles
The Enchanted Forest, 15 years into the future
Henry tugs on his sleeves nervously, glancing at himself in the mirror, finding that he's slightly stunned to have found himself here—he knows that he's lucky to have found the kind of love and family that he has, and he's very grateful to have it. He's been nervous about this day for a long time, and though he's still a little sad about settling rather than waiting for True Love, he is happy.
He's known this day was coming since his twenty-fifth birthday, when David officially passed the crown to him and made him King of both kingdoms.
He's had a lot of time to come to terms with his lot, and he does not regret it either—he may not be actually in love with his soon-to-be wife, but he does love and care for her a great deal, and he cannot wait to marry her.
"So," Graham whines from his perch on the window seat, "I understand why you would be forced to dress in this monkey suit today," he wrinkles his nose disgustedly and tugs on his cravat anxiously, "but honestly, there is no reason why we should all suffer through it."
Henry chuckles and shakes his head at his fifteen-year-old cousin—who happens to look just like Snow did… He has her eyes and hair color, and even the chin he shares with Emma and Henry both.
"You wanted to stand up there with me," he grins as he turns back to the mirror to adjust his own cravat one more time, and to make sure he looks good for his betrothed—she is not a noblewoman, as many people had expected, but a simple seamstress Henry had met when he was traveling with the navy, before he had been crowned.
He had been taken with her—and, at the time, had thought it to be True Love—and had asked her to accompany him as he returned back to the capitol. He had offered her a position as a royal seamstress for Leia—God knows they needed good seamstresses; Leia ripped and tore through her dresses at an alarming rate at that age—and had hoped to spend more time with her once she would be living in the castle.
She had chosen to return with him, and he had barely waited two months before he officially sought out his grandfather's and his mother's permission to officially court Rosanna. In a testament to how much finding and losing their True Love had changed them, Emma and David had granted him permission to do as he pleased, as long as it made him truly happy.
And courting Rosanna had, for some time.
Alas, after a few years, though he was still very fond of her and loved her, he simply fell out of love with her.
By then though, he had already promised her his hand in marriage, and he knew she was still very much in love with him—and more than anything, he refused to break Rosanna's heart the way he knew his father once broke his mother's heart.
And then, not two weeks ago, in the midst of searching for Leia and planning his wedding, Rosanna had told him he is to be a father. That only sealed the deal for him—sure, he might not love Rosanna in the all-consuming way that his mother loved Killian or that his grandfather loved Snow, but it's enough for him.
The kind of love her feels for Rosanna is slow and steady and easy and comforting and it's good.
And, more than anything, Henry refuses to allow his child to grow up as a bastard child.
He doesn't need the kind of love his mother and grandfather once had—he's content with the love and life that he has now.
After all, True Love is very rare, even in the Enchanted Forest.
"Henry!"
He jumps and barely gets the chance to turn around before Leia's arms are suddenly wrapped around him in a tight hug. He laughs a little—he had missed his little sister a lot while she was missing (though everyone knew that she was off having the time of her life, even if none of them knew where the hell she was) and he is beyond happy that Ruby had found her before he got married.
He'd never dreaded his wedding as much as he did when he believed his baby sister wouldn't be there to see it.
"Hey squirt," he grins, playfully struggling with her until he can turn and hug her back just as tightly.
"Ugh," Leia exclaims, slapping his arm playfully, "Do not call me that!"
Henry chuckles and Graham snorts before he announces he's going to check on Emma and David, and Leia just pouts at the pair of them—she is too adorable, and he loves having his little sister around again. It takes him a longer moment to realize that she too is dressed for her part in the ceremony, and it has to be the first time that he realizes that his little sister is a very, very beautiful girl when she chooses to act and dress like one.
She's changed in the months that she had been away, though not necessarily in a bad way—Henry shakes his head wryly; he just wants her to still be his adorable baby sister, not the woman she is slowly growing up to be.
Her waist-length dark hair, no longer as wildly curled as it had been when she was younger, frames her face, contrasting sharply with the brilliant blue of her eyes—bluer than the most beautiful sapphire gems in the crown's possession.
She moves differently as well—he's noticed over the past couple of days—straighter, prouder, more confident. It's almost as though, in the three months she'd been gone, she's learned to love who she is—and he's grateful to whoever showed her that being royalty as well as being the daughter of a more than notorious pirate is not something she should be ashamed of.
"You look beautiful, Lee," he offers, tugging her to his side to press a kiss to her head.
Whereas she would usually struggle and try to get away from him, she now hugs him back, readily accepting the comfort and affection he's been trying to provide for her entire life.
It must be one of the first times she willingly lets him hug her.
"Are you nervous?" She asks eagerly when she pulls back, smoothing his shirt a little as she does.
Henry sighs a little and shakes his head—it's true; he is not nervous.
He is eager, and excited, but he is not nervous.
Leia just rolls her eyes and snorts, shaking her head a little in what he thinks is disbelief. "I don't get you," she grins, "I'd be sick with nerves before my wedding, I'm sure of it."
Henry makes a face at the thought of his baby sister marrying anyone, because no one will ever be good enough for her. "God, don't put me through that for another few years, please," he begs, scowling at Leia when she bursts into laughter.
"Don't worry, big brother," she giggles, patting his arm, "I won't come near any boys yet—they have cooties, remember?"
Henry just shakes his head and pushes the thought of his sister with anyone out of his head rather forcefully and refocuses his attention on his own wedding, wondering what his bride will be wearing, if she will be nervous, and how long they will be able to hide her pregnancy before it becomes too prominent to conceal.
He and Leia both look up when Emma knocks quietly before entering the room—he immediately senses the tension between his mother and his sister and he hates that it is still there; but he knows from where it stems, and though he wishes desperately that his mother would be able to let go of her fears and those infernal walls, even if only for Leia's sake, he knows that her ability to trust and love unconditionally died with Killian.
And, more than anything, he feels horrible that Leia knows that her mother doesn't trust and love her as much as she should.
Ironically, the only time since they'd come back to the Enchanted Forest Henry had seen their mom show true, real emotion had been when Leia had run away without so much as a goodbye-note. She had been terrified and frantic, and it hadn't been until she'd located Leia on a map and saw her through a mirror that their mom had been able to calm down.
And instead of closing Leia in her arms the moment she got back to the castle, his mother had done nothing but give Leia the cold shoulder.
Henry sighs—he wishes he could fix them, fix the broken pieces of his mother's heart, but he can't, and now he's forced to watch them both suffer.
"You look really handsome, Henry," Emma smiles, though the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes—it never does anymore—before she looks at Leia and offers, "And you're beautiful, sweetheart." She reaches out to brush an errand lock of hair from Leia's shoulder, "You both look just like your fathers—I know they'd be proud of you. Both of you."
Henry watches as his little sister tears up and rushes into their mother's arms, mumbling incoherently about adventures, pirates and taking Emma with her next time, and he can't stop a brilliant smile from forming on his lips.
Maybe it's not too late to fix their family yet.
.
.
.
Charming Loft, Storybrooke, Maine—present time
Emma watches as Killian smiles radiantly at something Anna says, and tries desperately to ignore how her heart clenches painfully—she has to trust him, she knows that he loves her, even though it's too soon and too scary. She knows that Killian would never betray her like this—but she can't stop staring at them, wondering when this happened.
Before, Anna could barely stand to be in the same room as Killian, much less talk to him, and now it's almost like she's replacing David as Killian's best friend—and she knows her dad and Killian are friends, even though the both of them swear that they only tolerate each other for her sake.
She knows she's not the only one to have noticed—David's been glaring at Killian all day too—and she's not sure if that should make her feel better or worse.
"Is that your husband?"
She jumps a little as Elsa—so weird, because she just saw the woman in a Disney movie and now she's here—sits next to her, smiling awkwardly. "Oh—" she stutters, looking back at Killian, "No, he's… I mean, we're not—"
Elsa cuts her off by resting her hand on Emma's arm and smiles, "I didn't mean to assume—it is just… He was very desperate to save you when I… And your son seemed to take after the both of you…" she trails off and looks down sheepishly, "I do not think I apologized for trapping you in that ice—I am truly sorry."
Emma offers Elsa a tight smile—she knows Elsa wasn't to blame; they figured the Snow Queen kept the cage frozen solid even when Elsa tried to melt it—but doesn't say anything, her gaze once again drawn to where Killian, Anna and now David are talking.
"Okay," she speaks up, so everyone can hear her, "Anna—you said there was more you could tell us now. Can you get to it now?"
She knows it's rude and petty, but she's out of patience and just wants to start looking for this damn Snow Queen and get it over with so she can focus on other things than an evil villain trying to destroy their lives.
Anna exchanges a look with Killian—he's her pirate, damn it, the little tramp needs to find a man of her own—before she sighs and nods, moving to sit on the small sofa across from Emma and Elsa.
"You two need to learn how to control your magic," Anna says bluntly, "Or you're going to get everyone killed because of your own insecurities." She winces at her own words at the same moment both Emma and Elsa do, and her expression visibly softens as she continues, "I'm not trying to sound insensitive—I'm trying to make sure that the Snow Queen cannot catch us by surprise again. She was never supposed to have gotten to you at the Granny's…"
Emma frowns a little at the flash of pain she sees in Anna's eyes before she seemingly pulls up her walls again. "I don't think Regina is willing to spend any more time with me than she absolutely has to," Emma finally says after a short silence, "And I don't really fancy asking Gold for help either." She sees Killian tense up at the mere mention of Gold and sighs, wishing he'd be closer so she could hold his hand.
"You don't need Gold or Regina," Anna sighs, "I have a far easier and better way to teach you how to use and control your magic."
"Really?" Elsa leans forward eagerly, "Why? I mean, from what I understood, this Regina and Mr. Gold are very well-versed in magical arts—why would your knowledge be of more use to us than theirs?"
Emma raises an eyebrow at Anna, quite interested to learn the answer to that question as well.
She bites her lip with a small frown, trying to think of a good reason to bail on this—she doesn't want to have to spend more time with Anna, not if she can help it. She still feels like Anna is partly to blame for Mary-Margret, Graham, Henry and Ruby having been ambushed at the Diner and she can't bring herself to get over that.
"Our magic's are… similar," Anna says after a short silence, "We were all born with our powers—none of us had to resort to the Dark Arts to gain our magic. Emma's is born from True Love, Elsa's runs in the family and grows stronger with age."
Emma shakes her head, rubbing her hand over her forehead tiredly. "I still don't see why that would make you more capable of teaching us how to control our magic."
Anna looks at her intently, something Emma can't identify flashing in her eyes before she says, "My magic was born from True Love as well."
Before anyone else can say or do anything, Killian gasps loudly, his eyes wide and disbelieving and fixed on Anna in a way that makes both Emma and Anna squirm uncomfortably. "Killian?" Emma says slowly, drawing his attention away from Anna, "Are you okay?"
He's a little pale and Emma doesn't like the way he's swaying—damn it, this is not the time for him to get sick—, jumping to her feet and grabbing his arm to steady him before he falls over.
"Okay," she turns to Anna, ready to dismiss the whole idea before she remembers the promise she made to herself in the hospital—she's going to do whatever it takes to take the Snow Queen and King George down; if that means taking magic lessons from a girl who may or may not be from the future and who may or may not be hitting on her pirate, then so be it.
"I'll meet you and Elsa by the docks in an hour or so," Emma finally decides, nodding to affirm her decision and smiling at her parents, "We'll just be in my room for a bit."
David looks like he's going to burst an artery—Emma has to force herself not to laugh because it's just hilarious that he thinks he can tell her she can't take a boy up to her room, like she's fifteen, not thirty—and clearly wants to protest, but before he can, her Mom steps in and nods, answering, "Of course, honey. We'll just be down here with Graham if you need anything."
Emma smiles tightly at them before pulling her pirate—who's still in some kind of shock, it seems—up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her and shoving him down on the bed.
Her heart clenches when he still doesn't say anything, and she sighs before moving to stand between his legs, her fingers playing with his ridiculously soft hair. "You know," she drawls playfully, hoping to drag her pirate out of his shell that way, "this is not what I imagined having you in my room for the first time would be like."
His head snaps up—of course a thinly veiled innuendo would get his attention—and he grins toothily, his hand and hook moving up to rest on her hips.
"Well, by all means, love," he practically growls—damn the things his voice do to her—, "feel free to show me what you had in mind." !She doesn't resist when he pulls her into a hungry kiss because damn it, he's hot and it's been days since she's last been anywhere near him without at least half the town there too—and maybe she's feeling just a tiny little bit possessive over him too, after seeing him talking animatedly to Anna for hours.
His injured arm slides around her waist and suddenly she's in his lap, his hand tangling in her hair to hold her in place as he kisses the hell out of her—she tries to pour everything she can't say to him in the kiss, her fingers desperately tugging on his hair because she needs him, and he needs to be closer.
She has no sense of time anymore, she barely even registers anything but Killian's lips on hers and his hand touching her everywhere at once—until she realizes they've shifted and she's now lying on her bed with her pirate cradled between her thighs, her chest heaving as she attempts to catch her breath, his lips hovering above hers.
It takes her a few moments to realize his shirt has mysteriously disappeared and hers is fully unbuttoned, Killian's fingers splayed out on her stomach.
When did that happen?
"I like the way your mind works, Swan," Killian chuckles against her lips, before wiggling down her body a little to rest his head on her chest.
Emma smiles happily, playing with his hair idly as she stares up at the ceiling, thoughts swirling through her mind at dizzying speeds. "Are you okay?" She asks after a short silence, softly tugging on his hair to get him to look up at her.
He props his head up on his hand and smiles up at her—her heart does not skip a beat—, his eyes sparkling prettily. "I'm grand, love. Why would I not be?"
She shrugs, playing with the floppy little piece of hair that keeps falling onto his forehead. "You seemed pretty out of it earlier," she says casually, "and you've been a little… Distant. I mean, you spent the entire day with Anna yesterday and you were talking to her constantly earlier."
He chuckles a little and nods, "Aye, love. Your parents were with you yesterday, and Anna did not have anyone else in this town—I felt responsible."
Emma frowns a little, not liking how much she hates the idea of him being close to any other woman—but she is not at all jealous. "Why?" She blurts, wincing a little at the incredulous look he gives her. "I mean," she backtracks, "I get that she doesn't have a lot of people here, but why do you have to be the one to—"
Killian pulls away from her abruptly and glares at her—damn it, he's not supposed to be angry with her. "Because she came back in time to save our lives, Swan," he hisses angrily, "the least I can do in return for saving my sorry arse is make her feel a little at home."
Emma stares at him, unsure of what to say, because he's right and she hates that, because it means she's being stupid and unreasonable and she does not want to admit that.
"Killian," she pleads when he jumps from her bed and pulls his shirt back on, getting to her feet as well, reaching for his arm, "Killian, come on, I wasn't—"
"No!" He shouts, drawing his arm away from her—she jumps back, startled by his anger, unsure what to say or do. "No," he repeats, softer now, "It pains me how little faith you have in my affections—had I wanted to leave you for another," his eyes harden, "I would never have come to find you in New York. I hoped I had proven my loyalty to you—"
He falls silent for a moment and the hurt and pleading in his eyes nearly break her. "There isn't anything I can do to make you have faith in me—in my feelings for you—is there?" He finally whispers, his eyes dark and pained.
She just stares at him, and she's trying, but the words won't come and she wants to tell him she does trust him, that she doesn't think he'd just leave her, but her body refuses to cooperate and she can't—
How did this go south so fast?
When she remains silent, he looks down with a sad little smile that shatters her heart, whispering, "Aye, that is what I feared… You know where to find me when you change your mind." And just like that, before she even realizes it, he is out of the room, leaving her feeling oddly like she's just been dumped.
.
.
.
The docks, Storybrooke, Maine—present time
"Take a deep breath," Anna orders gently, "close your eyes and feel the magic in your surroundings. It's everywhere, if you just look for it."
Emma snorts, but complies—she might be pissed off and stubborn, but she's serious about defeating the Snow Queen—closing her eyes and pressing her fingers into the earth, willing herself to feel anything. She can't, though, and it freaks her the hell out, because Elsa seems to pick it up easily, and she needs to be able to do this.
She needs to do this so she can save Killian and her parents and Henry—so they won't need Anna.
"Emma."
Her head snaps up when Anna calls her name, her eyes widening when she sees strings of bright white light wrapping around both Elsa's and Anna's fingers and up their arms—Elsa's giggling as she makes random snowflakes appear and disappear, and Anna is smiling radiantly; happily.
"Oh, wow," Emma deadpans—she's being horrible and she knows it but she can't stop herself—, "Sparkly lights. Great. That's supposed to help us defeat the Snow Queen?"
Elsa's magic immediately falters and disappears, and Emma feels kind of bad about ruining the young woman's obvious joy, but she can't help it—misery loves company, she supposes.
"No," Anna says dryly, raising an eyebrow at Emma, "It's not. It's supposed to help you get in touch with your magic, which you would know if you stopped behaving like a petulant child and listened to me—you both need to feel that magic isn't inherently evil. Having magic doesn't make you evil. People use it do evil. There's a difference and if you want to survive, you need to learn that."
Emma stares at Anna, mouth hanging open as she struggles to find an appropriate comeback to that—unfortunately, she doesn't think that 'look who's talking' is going to cut it—whilst Elsa fidgets uncomfortably.
"Oh, dear," A fourth, female voice interrupts—they all jump to their feet, whirling around to face the tall blonde that has seemingly appeared out of nowhere—, "I hope I'm not interrupting."
Emma glares at the new arrival—who can only be the elusive Snow Queen Anna had spoken off, the woman that killed Ruby, that tried to kill her mother and her baby brother—her rage bubbling to the surface; her hands are glowing with hot, bright white light. "What the hell do you want?" She spits, trembling with anger, only held back by Elsa and Anna's hands on her arms.
"Oh, it's quite simple, dear," the Snow Queen smiles pleasantly, "I want something you and your family have but never deserved—you are simply in my way, so I have to dispose of you."
Anna steps forward boldly, and Emma stares at her—is she insane? Really?—and spits, "It's you who isn't worthy. Ou—their family has fought and earned their throne and their people love them. Nothing you can do will ever change that."
The Snow Queen narrows her eyes at Anna, and Emma can tell she struck a nerve.
There's blue ice swirling on the Snow Queen's fingertips and a chill that definitely wasn't there before in the air, and Emma instinctively wraps her magic around herself like a thick, warm, protective blanket—and suddenly it's like the Snow Queen's magic can't touch her anymore.
"I must say," the Snow Queen sneers, disdain dripping from each word she speaks, "I had expected more from the prophesized Savior and her companions. You truly are a pathetic ragtag little group of misfits, aren't you?"
Anna and Elsa don't seem at all affected by her words, but Emma can feel the tiny little voice in her head—the one that is always there, insisting she is not worth loving, that everyone will tire of her—grow stronger as the Snow Queen keeps speaking, and she can feel her magic faltering.
No, no, no.
She can't listen to the woman—she knows better now, she knows that she belongs here, in Storybrooke, with her family and Killian and all the others. She shakes her head, ignoring her own trepidation, and focuses all her attention on closing the holes in her magical bubble, shutting out the Queen's voice as she does.
"We do not believe in any of your lies," Elsa exclaims, shattering Emma's fragile self-control and snapping her protective bubble.
"Shit!" Emma cries, drawing everyone's attention back to her—the Snow Queen's eyes gleam darkly and a cruel smile twists her thin lips as the magic in her hands grows larger and stronger.
"It's such a shame," the Queen cackles madly, "You and I would have been magnificent together—if only you did not stand in my way." Emma's paralyzed, staring as the Snow Queen smirks evilly and releases the icy Curse she had been building in her palms.
"Emma!"
Several things happens at once.
It's like time slows, and all Emma can do is stare, horrified, protected by Anna's strong and unwavering magic, as Anna takes a small step back, her hands still raised—glowing with the magic for the shield she'd erected around Emma—when the icy blue beam bounces off her shield and rebounds, hitting her straight in the heart.
Emma and Elsa stare at her in horror—Emma can't quite believe Anna's still standing—as Anna presses her hand to her chest where the icy beam hit her, her face hidden by her hair.
"I got to give it to you," Anna's voice startles them all—especially the Snow Queen, who's staring at Anna open mouthed—, "that one hurt." Emma jumps, her heart squeezing with something that feels oddly like pride and fear at the same time, when Anna's eyes flash greener and greener until they are completely green.
"Bet I can make this hit hurt worse," she hisses—and Emma doesn't know if she's just so good at telling when people are lying or if Anna just really sucks at it, but Emma can tell that whatever the Snow Queen hit her with is affecting her badly and she's bluffing.
"Yes, we can" she steps closer to Anna, instinctively reaching for her hand, letting her own magic pool in her palm, mixing with Anna's—it's about time she starts behaving like an adult and not an overly hormonal teenager—the feel of their shared magic rushing through her veins intoxicating and she almost loses her focus.
Almost.
"Stay away from us," Emma orders calmly—sounding far calmer than she really feels—as she allows their magic to spark between her fingers, "Or we will destroy you."
Emma can see the Snow Queen falter, her eyes showing just enough fear to convince Emma that she knows they mean business, before she nods and shakes her head. "Of course. If that is how you wish to play this."
And then in a flurry of ice and snow, she is gone.
The moment the Snow Queen disappears, Anna's legs seem to give out, and her hand slips out of Emma's as she falls. Emma rushes forward to catch Anna, cradling the girl's head in her lap as she stares up at her, her eyes finally having returned to their usual bright blue.
"It hurts," Anna whimpers, her hand rising weakly to touch her chest where the ice had hit her. "You need to control my magic before I lose it," she gasps in short, fast breaths, her eyes wide and fearful as her fingers shiver and clench in her own short, "Y—you do—don't u—understand. It's d—dangerous when I l—lose c—control."
Emma winces at the fear in Anna's eyes and voice and chokes, "You're going to be fine." She nods to assure herself as well as Anna and Elsa, who's just kneeled down beside them. Emma tries to keep her voice steady and confident—she can't lose it, Anna just took a Curse for her, she needs to stay strong and deal with everything else later, "We'll find something to help you."
Anna chokes on a laugh, jerking her head to each side shakily. "N—n—no. You won't. K—keep m—m—me away from Henry when I s—start sc—screaming."
"Anna," Elsa whispers, stroking Anna's hair from her forehead tenderly, "I'm certain we can find something."
"N—no," Anna shivers, "Not in time." Emma's heart breaks for her when the girl tries to give them a brave little smile as she whispers, "I—it's okay, Em—m—ma. J—just p—p—promise."
Emma clenches her fists at her side, willing herself not to cry as she offers Anna the most comforting, reassuring smile she can manage.
"I promise," she whispers, cursing silently when a tear slips down her cheek anyway, "I promise."