Hello my darlings!

My midterms are all over, I passed them all, so I shall live to write another day :D I just wanted to get this little chapter up before we all die from feels overload in the next episode.

I want to thank DancingDoula and JustSmileBFF for reading and beta'ing this chapter and letting me whine about plotlines and timetravelling :D

Love, Annaelle

PS Thank you to all those who have read, faved, followed, reviewed and loved already! I love all of you!

PPS In the last chapter, it was mentioned in Leia's flashbacks that Henry was getting married and had a child on the way-the baby will be mentioned briefly as 'little Bae' here. Just a head's up to avoid confusion :D

Chapter Five—In My Life

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain

All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends

I still can recall

Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new

Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

—In My Life, The Beatles

Charming's Royal Court, the Enchanted Forest—19 years into the future

It is all-consuming, mind-boggling, agonizing pain.

Leia had never known that her entire body could hurt from emotional pain, as though she is being torn apart from the inside out. Too many feelings battle for dominance within her mind, and she can barely see straight—now that she is experiencing the soul crushing, crippling ache, she wishes she had not been so impatient with her mother and grandfather at times.

She wishes she would have been better, more understanding—she doesn't understand how they survived two decades of this pain, how they had enough control to continue living with the crippling ache constantly lodged in their chests.

She understands the pain now—but she cannot help but wish that she did not.

She desires nothing more than to be ignorant to this kind of pain—she wishes for nothing more than the reason for her pain to be erased. But would not all who have been put in her situation? She cannot imagine any man or woman coming to terms with watching the only parents they have ever had die violently, at the hand of those they had trusted.

She does not know how to continue now—she does not know how to proceed with her life without her mother there to hold her when she is sad, to comfort her when a boy breaks her heart, to love her in that unconditional way that only a mother can love her child.

She cannot grasp that she will never be able to see her mother again—that she will never be able to crawl in her mother's bed with her again, when she is feeling alone, when she finds herself overcome with longing to know those of her family that were gone even before her birth—she cannot understand that she will never be able to take comfort in her arms again.

She is aware that she is not alone in her grief, and that there are others who will comfort her, if she allows them to—Henry, Graham, Ruby, Rosanna and even Roland will hold her, allow her to cry on their shoulder—and she knows that ought to be enough for her…

But it is not.

None of them understand the double kind of grief—she is not only grieving the loss of her mother and her grandfather, but also the loss of her own innocence.

Upon seeing her mother and her grandfather die, she had lost all semblance of control—she had killed well over thirty men with no more than a wave of her hand.

Including King George, Roland's wife and her own betrothed.

And though she feels guilt for their deaths, she cannot deny that she loved it too—she loved the overwhelming feeling of power. She'd loved knowing that the world was at her fingertips—knowing that she could have taken it and no one would have had the power to stop her.

Not even the Dark One's powers rival hers.

And this… The conflicting feelings that the battle and its end awoke within her are a kind of struggle her brother and uncle—or Rosanna or any of her friends—cannot understand, even if they would try.

They're all so inherently good.

None of them have ever committed a crime as heinous and twisted as the ones she committed earlier, and they cannot offer her genuine comfort—they cannot understand the thrill her powers can give her, the lure it involves.

She knows that if Roland had not stopped her, if he had not spoken to her and drawn her attention away, she would have continued killing, and she would have loved doing it—and that terrifies her beyond anything else, because she no longer has anyone to tell, she has no one who will understand the struggle of being on the edge between good and evil.

She could have hurt someone she loves—she could have hurt Henry or Rosanna or little Bae—and she knows, deep down, that she would have been so caught up in the thrill of her power that she would not have cared.

She is snapped from her dark, spiralling thoughts by a soft, gentle voice, floating towards her from her opened balcony doors. "Princess," Roland offers her a kind, understanding smile that she loathes almost as much as she loathes him at this moment.

She looks away from him, unwilling to think about the onslaught of emotions that his presence brings on, and curls up into a slightly smaller ball on her window seat. "Go away," she says hoarsely, "Have you not heard? I kill those that betray me—look what I did to my own betrothed. I might just kill you as well."

He chuckles humourlessly—she cannot fault him, there is little humour to be found in this situation—and enters her room. "You're not going to hurt me, lass. I'm not going anywhere."

Leia sighs and rests her head against the wall, taking a few deep breaths to stave off the lingering desire to use her magic to make him submit to her will—she knows she could do it and he knows so too. "You should go see to your wife, thief. I know I didn't leave much, but I do not wish to see the filth of her corpse on my courtyard any longer than I have to. You've no more business here, and you have made it abundantly clear whose side you were on when you married George's bastard child."

She knows she sounds as though she cares too much—and she cannot, it is ridiculous, they had barely known each other, and she had been a child—but she is hurt by the obvious betrayal.

She had believed that, after their adventure together, he had known that not all royalty was the same—she had believed he knew her family was victimized as his was—that even if he did not believe her mother and grandfather were different, he knew her well enough to realize she was not like other royalty.

She had believed that despite his mother's teaching's, he had learned that he could trust her and her family. And he, despite his knowledge of King George's hand in his father's death, had married Brianna—King George's daughter.

It had hurt more than she had expected—she had trusted him, and hearing that he had married the daughter of one of their biggest enemies had broken her heart in a way she had not realized it could be broken.

Of course, in her heartbreak, she had made many a mistake—such as letting Prince Derek into her life, her home (and her bed)—and had convinced herself that she could become happy in a marriage that involved little understanding.

After all, Henry's marriage was a happy one, and he was no longer in love with his wife either.

Derek had been kind to her, but he had never understood her thirst for knowledge and adventure, and had even gone as far as to disapprove of it, at times.

In hindsight, she can only be pleased that she never married him—knowing how he betrayed her, used her—and a little satisfied that she had made every vein in his brain pop until he bled to death.

"I am not leaving, Leia," Roland replies stubbornly—and though that does not surprise her, the use of her name does. He has only once called her by her name—she will never forget the feeling of his warm breath on her lips, the sound of her name falling from his lips like the softest caress—and it has been many a year since then.

She does not want to think of it much—if she does, it will indicate that she cares, and she is not certain she can care anymore. She is not certain her heart can take much more disappointment and heartache. She resents him and his mother for siding with the man who was responsible for so much pain and loss in her family, but she cannot loathe him.

She had relied upon him, trusted in him, once upon a time, and though those feelings are long gone, she longs for it to return—she yearns for it.

She feels oddly disconnected from the entire world at this moment—she supposes watching her mother bleed to death and seeing the woman who married her thief behead grandfather and murdering an entire battalion of soldiers does that to a person.

She had also locked Marion away in an impenetrable cage once Roland had calmed her and she had regained enough control over her powers to use it—none but Leia and Henry will be able to enter the cage, and she cannot understand that Roland does not loathe her.

She had imprisoned his mother and murdered his wife and he is still looking at her as he did when she was fifteen and innocent and impressionable and thirsty for adventure and a life outside her castle walls.

"Why?" She whispers, emotions battling each other in the privacy of her mind, her mood switching almost uncontrollably, her head and heart aching as confusion wars with grief and pain and barely-controlled rage in her mind, "Why would you not leave? I murdered your wife."

She looks up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, "I am going to have your mother executed—and if I do not, Henry will. It is his duty as our King to protect us—our family and the people in our Kingdom—and your mother…" She trails off uncertainly and once looks down, unwilling to see the hatred in his eyes.

She knows it will be there.

How can it not be?

She had truly hated the man who was responsible for her parents' death—she still does—she had killed him and made him suffer and she loathes that she enjoyed it.

She does not even feel the single tear run down her cheek—nor did she sense his sudden approach. She only notices when he kneels before her, his thumb wiping the tear from her cheek in a tender caress that has every single one of her nerve-endings spontaneously combust.

She meets his gaze and manages something that she is certain can pass as an amused smile at the many questions that shine in those intense, dark brown orbs.

"Why?" She whispers again, the desire and longing to know the answer growing from somewhere deep within her heart. "Why would you not hate me?" The anxiety and anger that had been wrecking through her body and had left its marks—she had not felt her hands ball into fists, nor had she noticed the tiny, crescent-shaped marks her nails left in her own skin as they dug in.

But where Leia had been ignorant to the mutilation of her skin, Roland—obviously—had not been so, and his ever-present worry had won out on his rationality.

His eyes are dark and beautiful and there is no hate in them at all, and she does not understand.

"I'm not cross with you," he whispers, a sad, small smile tugging on the corner of his lips, "I understand. My mother is blinded by her hatred for your family when you have done nothing to her—she's a danger, and I know this. I have tried to curb her anger… I married Brianna to sate her desire for revenge, but she was undeterred. Had I known what they were planning—Mother, Brianna, Derek… I would've stopped them."

She does not possess her mother's superpower, as the older woman had often called it, nor does Leia need it to know that Roland is telling her naught but the truth. Had he known about the plot that was afoot, he would have spoken against it and stopped it—perhaps the man she had once thought he was is not so far away after all.

She accepts his answer with a sharp, shaky nod as another tear rolls down her cheek.

"Do you—do you believe this makes me evil? What I did…" He is shaking his head even before she stops speaking—but she is convinced of the truth in her own words. Her actions against King George and his allies had are inexcusable, and she cannot shake the finality of her own conclusion.

"Leia," Roland says firmly, drawing her back to reality, "You are not evil. You are young, and beautiful and you are unimaginably powerful—you responded as any would have in your situation. If you had not taken them down, I would have. There is no dishonour in defending your family from those who seek to harm them."

"But I should not," she mutters stubbornly, "I cannot commit such acts and go unpunished—I am the land's Princess."

"Yes," he nods calmly, "You are. But you are also human, lass. You were betrayed by those you trusted—your betrothed, my wife, me…"

"No," she begins furiously, "No, Roland, you did no—", before Roland clasps his hand over her lips, silencing her retort while shaking his head furiously.

"I did," he whispers, "I did betray you—I married an enemy's daughter, and I was fully aware of what I was doing. I betrayed you, Leia, and for that, I am eternally sorry."

Her thoughts scatter at his short, sweet confession—perhaps he does, in fact, care more for her than she gives him credit for. But, when given the necessary amount of thought, it does not seem as though he would care about her as she may wish him to.

Of course, it is foolish to hope Roland would not notice her inner turmoil—and he responds to it as though he has done it a hundred times; he pulls her straight into his arms, presses his lips to her forehead and whispers that, somehow, everything will fall into place—for the both of them.

And she wants to believe him—she honestly wishes she could have faith in the future like he seems to have—but she cannot. She simply does not have the strength to convince herself that it will be alright—that everything will work out if she believes and fights for it.

She cannot—not anymore.

Her earlier desperation seems to find its way back into her heart, and this time, Roland's words and presence do nothing to alleviate the ache of her despair.

The tears that had clouded her vision earlier, but had not all fallen, are no longer controlled—before she even fully realizes why, she finds herself sinking into Roland's comforting embrace, accepting the strength it offers her as she sobs uncontrollably, for once allowing herself to feel the absolute terror the thought of her past actions bring upon her.

She is not ready to confront all of those demons—not yet.

Not her pain concerning her mother and grandfather's deaths, not her struggle between good and evil—light and dark magic—, and certainly not her feelings for the thief that is holding her as though she is the most precious treasure he has ever held.

And that is alright.

She is not ready yet—but she will be.

One day.

.

.

.

Storybrooke General Hospital, Storybrooke, Maine—present time

Regina wrinkles her nose disgustedly as she stomps into the hospital, running right into a teary Savior and Pirate Captain outside a private hospital room. "Here," she says briskly, holding out the leather cuff Emma had insisted she bring, "Now is someone going to tell me why we need that infernal thing again?"

Emma glances towards the pirate briefly before shaking her head and sighing, "The Snow Queen attacked Anna and Elsa and me earlier—Anna took a Curse for me."

Regina wants to smirk at the devastation in the Savior's voice as she utters those words, but for some reason that completely alludes her, she cannot—the girl came back from the future, destroying her own Happy Ending in the process, to save their lives and Happy Endings, Regina's included.

Regina may be apathetic and cruel at times, but she is not one to be ungrateful.

Anna has deserved her respect, and she has done nothing but try to help everyone—Regina and Robin included. "What kind of Curse is it?" She finally inquires dryly, refusing to show Emma Swan any emotion or weakness.

"I'm not sure," Emma sighs, running her fingers through her tangled blonde locks, "Elsa's looking into it, but Anna made me promise to control her magic before she lost it… The cuff was the only thing I could think of on such short notice. She passed out before we could ask her what she meant though."

Regina wrinkles her nose in distaste when she has to admit that the cuff might indeed be a good idea to contain Anna's powers.

"I'm going to check if Elsa's found anything," Emma sighs, barely glancing at the pirate before leaving—she wonders what that's about… It's been a while since those two were in the same room and not making eyes at each other.

Regina raises an eyebrow when the pirate simply sighs heavily and moves to the door, staring through the small glass window in the door with something akin to fear, heartbreak and love and it confuses her. As long as she had known him, Killian Jones has never been one for showing his emotions—if he had any at all—and weaknesses in front of anyone.

Of course, he's always been quite hopeless at hiding how he felt about the Savior.

"From that look on your face," she sneers—because she really can't help herself, he's an arrogant son of a bitch and she can't resist messing with him—, "I gather there are some trouble in paradise… And the time traveller has something to do with it."

He drops his head against the glass and groans—she can't resist a chuckle—before he turns to her and responds, "I assure you that whatever transpires between me and Emma is none of your concern, Regina."

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for him to continue.

He will.

He sighs and shakes his head, grumbling, "Emma is under the impression that my affections suddenly lie elsewhere—the thought of her having so little faith in me is…" He hesitates, and Regina feels slightly bad for pressuring him—she remembers all too well the sting of heartbreak when Robin had told her he couldn't trust her because she had been the reason Marian disappeared.

"Ah," she smiles wryly, "And I presume your acquaintance with young Anna is the one Miss Swan misinterpreted."

The pirate nods solemnly, his eyes once again straying towards the hospital room, and though Regina can see there is love in his gaze, it is not the kind of love Emma should worry about—it's quite amusing now that she has figured it out.

"How long have you known?" She inquires, raising a curious eyebrow at the pirate, rolling her eyes when he simply looks confused. "That Anna is your future daughter," she clarifies, "I take it Emma does not know."

"No," Killian sighs, rubbing his hand over his forehead in a tired gesture, "Lei—Anna made me swear not to tell. Emma's not ready to hear this yet; she's barely ready to hear how I feel about her, much less that we have a child on the way—or that our future is so tragic our daughter felt the need to come back in time and fix it."

Regina nods thoughtfully, biting back a snide comment—she can go back to teasing him later, when he's not so miserable.

After all, it is far more fun to mock him when he'll actually respond to it.

"Is Henry safe?" The Pirate's voice draws her from her thoughts, "Emma mentioned she would ask you about protection spells when she contacted you with her… talking phone."

Before Regina can respond, Emma returns, the young Ice Queen following in her wake, both women fidgeting nervously.

"Did you find something?" Killian immediately hurries towards the two women, and Regina follows, slightly more reluctant, "What kind of Curse is it? What can we do to reverse it?" There's a kind of desperation in his voice that makes them all wince—though Regina's is fairly certain that Emma is wincing for different reasons than she and Elsa are.

"Perhaps," Elsa suggests delicately, "perhaps we should find somewhere private… Where we may sit and talk calmly." She's eyeing the pirate nervously, and Regina can't truly blame her; everyone knows that the pirate sometimes has a ridiculously short fuse when it comes to the people he loves.

Even the young Ice Queen that met him a mere two weeks ago.

"No," the pirate shakes his head stubbornly, "No, I'm not leaving when she may very well be dying in our stead!"

Regina has to hand it to her, despite how distraught Miss Swan obviously is over her little spat with the Pirate, she does not freak out or accuse him of anything—she simply takes his hand in both of hers and whispers, "There's nothing you can do for her right now. Standing around watching her die isn't going to help her either. Help us find a solution."

She can see the Pirate cave before he even moves—he truly is hopelessly besotted when it comes to Emma Swan—and sighs, tapping her foot impatiently against the cool linoleum.

"Are you two done making eyes yet? I don't believe Anna has much longer," Regina deadpans, examining her nails—she's not going to show any kind of emotion over this; she refuses to.

"Fine," Hook sighs, turning and stomping towards a private room only two doors down from Anna's room, not once looking back to see if they are all following him—she's not sure if it's arrogance or self-preservation.

She raises an eyebrow at the two other women, who're still staring after Hook—both of their jaws sagging a little.

"Well," she drawls, "Let's get to it then."

.

.

.

Emma fidgets nervously as she watches Killian pace across the length of the room over and over again—he has not looked at her since they brought Anna to the hospital, and she knows he blames her for Anna getting hit.

Hell, even she blames herself, why shouldn't he?

"So," he says slowly, unsurely, "It's freezing her from the inside out?"

"Yes," Elsa replies dejectedly, "It's supposedly the most excruciating and horrible Curse one can cast—It freezes her blood as it streams through her veins. I've only read about this kind of Curse, but Anna seemed to think it was this Curse. She seemed very certain she was going to be in a lot of pain, and unable to control her magic… It's why she asked us to contain it before she did lose control."

Emma runs her hand through her hair and sighs, shaking her head.

"The only thing that can break her Curse is an act of True Love," she admits, "None of us here can provide that for her. I don't even know if she—"

"She's married," Killian interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose as he breathes in heavily, "He is her True Love. They broke a Curse before. Perhaps… If we can somehow return her to her rightful time, he could save her." He looks so hopeful it nearly shatters her heart, and she can't bring herself to tell him they can't open another time portal without risking undoing all the work Anna's already done to change the past.

"None of us are powerful enough to open such portal, Captain," Regina bristles angrily, "And even if we could, there is no guarantee that Anna would survive the trip through the portal in the first place."

Emma swallows thickly, looking down at her hands as she rapidly considers all the possibilities laid before them. "We have to do something," she cuts in, feeling almost as desperate as Killian—she wants to fix this, she wants to be the Savior for this girl.

Killian was right all along—Anna came back to save their lives, and she's paying for it with her own, and Emma can't stand the idea of Anna dying after taking a Curse for her while Emma was being nothing short of horrible to her out of misplaced jealousy.

"Well, I—"

Complete chaos ensues when the ground suddenly shakes violently, interrupting whatever scathing remark Regina was about to make, tossing them all around like ragdolls. Emma smacks into Elsa and Killian, barely able to catch her breath before Regina stumbles and crashes into them, knocking the air right back out of Emma's lungs.

"What's happening?" Elsa cries when they manage to get to their feet—the ground is still quaking, but less violently so.

Emma gratefully accepts Killian's hand to help her up—it takes everything she has to keep herself from simply jumping in his arms and begging him to forgive her for jumping to conclusions—, her eyes widening when she sees the cut above his eye and his swollen lip.

"Are you okay?" she exclaims worriedly, her hands immediately reaching out to touch the wound, to relieve the ache, to do something to help him.

"I'm fine," he replies gruffly, stumbling when a slightly heavier quake rumbles through the entire hospital, "We need to go see to L—Anna."

She wants to protest—wants to tell him that she doesn't care about anyone but him right now, but the words stick in her throat at the look in his eye. She may not know what changed between him and Anna, but something did and he cares. She knows he's cared for no one but her and himself in centuries, and she's smart enough to recognize that it's not something she should dismiss like it's nothing.

"Okay," she nods, grabbing his arm to balance herself when the ground shakes again, more violent this time, and jumps when several light bulbs blow out at the same time. Her heart is hammering in her chest, her breath wheezing—she's terrified of what is going on, because she can't control it and she can't stand the thought of Killian getting hurt.

His eyes soften when they catch hers, and it makes her feel marginally better—to know that even if he is mad at her, there is still some kind of affection in his eyes when he looks at her—when he catches her hand in his and explains, "She asked you to contain her magic, no? I fear this might be what she was afraid of."

Realization dawns on her and it makes her feel even more guilty—even when she was Cursed, having no idea what was going to happen to her, Anna had tried to tell them that her magic might be dangerous if not controlled.

"Of course," she exclaims, "We need to get the bracelet on her now."

He's already out the door, the bracelet in his hand—she doesn't even bother to wonder how he got it from her pocket—damn pirate—and chases after him, barely registering Elsa and Regina's shouted inquiries, tripping over her own feet several times as the hospital shakes violently.

"Killian," she yells when he crashes through the door to Anna's room, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing up straight when a blood-curdling scream shatters through the otherwise silent hospital, punctuated by windows shattering everywhere.

Before she can do more than stare at the mass-destruction, another heavy quake knocks her off her feet—her head smacks against the wall and for a moment, she sees nothing but sparks and stars, and her blood is pounding in her ears. 'Come on,' she tries to will her body to get up, to fight its way to the door, to make sure Killian is okay, but her body feels heavy and sluggish and she can't move.

The world is spinning around her and she can't focus—she hates that she feels so powerless, and for the first time, she realizes how powerful Anna's magic is, and how glad she is that Anna is—was—on their side.

"Emma!"

Killian comes running out of the room—at least she thinks he does, because the world is still spinning—, dropping to his knees before her and suddenly all she can see is blue eyes—she's drowning in his eyes but she doesn't mind.

She can see his lips moving but there's no sound and everything feels weird and fuzzy—but it's okay because he's here and he'll take care of her .

He always does, she muses as the world goes black.

.

.

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Abandoned Manor on the outskirts of western woods, Storybrooke, Maine—present time

"Well, milady?" George tilts his head to the side and studies the magnificent woman before him, still slightly awed by her beauty and power. This is the kind of woman he would have liked to have by his side when his worthless son had betrayed him by refusing to marry Princess Abigail—certainly with this woman, this Queen, by his side, he would have been victorious in his battle against Snow White and the shepherd.

"I have eliminated the new girl," she replies dismissively, "She will die within the next day, I presume. This Curse never takes too long to culminate."

He smiles, satisfied with that outcome—he did not know the girl, and that made him very nervous. He knows the other Charmings all too well—they're heroes, they all react the same way to certain stressors and he and his Queen have a perfect plan laid out to utilize every single one of those to their advantage. With the strange girl out of the way, their plan is now back on track, and they can resume taking out the entire Charming family one by one.

"Soon, darling," the Queen purrs, patting his cheek lightly, making him wince when he feels frostbite travel from her fingertips onto his skin, "Soon the kingdoms shall be ours." A wickedly beautiful smile curls onto her lips, "As they always should have been."

He smirks and nods—the kingdoms will be theirs; and then they will be his when he puts the Queen back in her Urn, where she can rest until he has need for her again.

And he will win.