Hello darlings.
I apologize for the long wait. Please have this extra long chapter as an apology.
I'm just gonna drop this here...
Also, tissue warning... Like, bring out the big tissue boxes-I was told you'd need them :p
Much thanks and love to my awesome beta's, DancingDoula and JustSmileBff! :D
Love,
Annaelle
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PREVIOUSLY ON SANDS OF TIME:
IN THE PAST, WE SEE LEIA ATTEMPT TO PITCH HER IDEA TO TRAVEL BACK IN TIME TO SAVE STORYBROOKE TO HENRY, WHO IS WORRIED ABOUT HIS SISTER ATTEMPTING SUCH A FEAT FIRST AND FOREMOST, BUT UNDERSTANDS THE POINT SHE MAKES WHEN SHE TELLS HIM SHE WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO LIVE WITH HERSELF IF SHE KNEW SHE HAD THE POWER TO SAVE HER FAMILY AND DID NOTHING ABOUT IT.
EVENTUALLY, HENRY CONCEDES AND ALLOWS LEIA TO START PLANNING HER JOURNEY WITH HIS BLESSING. WHEN HE JOKES THAT HE HAD EXPECTED LEIA AND ROLAND TO ASK HIM FOR HIS BLESSING FOR THEIR MARRIAGE, BOTH BECOME AMBARRASSED AND TRY NOT TO LOOK AT EACH OTHER.
IN THE PRESENT:
EMMA BRINGS LEIA, WHO IS STILL IN A LOT OF PAIN, BACK TO THE LOFT, WHERE SHE AND THE REST OF HER FAMILY ARE GATHERED TO FIND A WAY TO LOCATE AND RESCUE ROLAND, WHO HAS BEEN CAPTURED BY THE ICE QUEEN. EMMA REALIZES THAT, SLOWLY, PEOPLE ARE STARTING TO REALIZE WHO LEIA IS TO THEM AND THEIR FAMILY. SHE ALSO REALIZES WHO ROLAND WILL GROW UP TO BE TO HER DAUGHTER, AND SHE FINDS THAT THE REALIZATION ISN'T AS WEIRD AS SHE WOULD THINK IT WOULD BE.
LEIA DECIDES TO PUT HERSELF IN A MAGICAL TRANCE TO SAVE ROLAND FROM FEELING THE TORTURE THE ICE QUEEN IS TRYING TO INFLICT UPON HIM, AND THOUGH A FEW PEOPLE PROTEST AT FIRST, SHE PERSISTS AND CASTS THE SPELL, AFTER HENRY GRILLED HER ABOUT MAGIC AND THE FUTURE.
AFTER A WEEK, THEY ARE STILL NO CLOSER TO FINDING ROLAND, AND EMMA AND KILLIAN ATTEND A DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENT TO SEE IF THE BABY IS PERFECTLY OKAY, WHICH IS INTERRUPTED BY BELLE, WHO TELLS THEM SHE HAS TO WARN THEM ABOUT RUMPLE, WHO HAS SEEMINGLY TEAMED UP WITH THE ICE QUEEN.
AND NOW, ON WITH THE SHOW!
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Chapter Ten—With a Little Help From My Friends—Part II
(Would you believe in a love at first sight?)
Yes I'm certain that it happens all the time
(What do you see when you turn out the light?)
I can't tell you, but I know it's mine
Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
I get high with a little help from my friends
Oh, I'm going to try with a little help from my friends
—A Little Help From My Friends, The Beatles
Charmings' Royal Court, the Enchanted Forest—20 years into the future
Her long, dark hair is fanned out on the white pillow, the soft sheets twisted around her hips, as she sleeps soundly. Her arms are wrapped around the pillow he had slept on, and every few seconds, he can hear the softest, cutest little snore escape her lips. He is certain he is not supposed to be in here—after all, they are not yet wedded, and it is beyond improper for a crown princess to share her bed with a man before marriage—but he honestly cannot bring himself to care.
He has had precious little time to spend with Leia since they arrived, and he really doesn't want to burst the peaceful, quiet silence of the morning just yet.
Of course, he realizes it is ridiculous to worry about such things now—he and Leia have been sharing a bed for a year already, and he had shared her bed long before that too.
He smiles when she sighs and moves in her sleep, his eyes immediately drawn to the soft, creamy skin that is exposed when the sheets slip further down. He is unable to stop himself from reaching out to touch her warm skin, and trails his fingers up and down her naked back gently.
He loses himself in thought as he contemplates the three weeks they have spent at the castle.
He can tell Leia has enjoyed spending time with her brother and uncle, and he sees how she adores her little nephew. The first time he had seen them together, he had nearly choked on his own spit when he realized how much he wished to see her with a child of their own—because he knows she still plans on leaving.
He knows she still plans on carrying out her plans to save their families.
He knows that there is a chance he will never have such a life with his love, and it pains him to even consider a future when he is not certain they will have one.
He knows that if he were a lesser man, he would have left her side a long time ago—he would not have asked her to become his wife—he would not have consented to marry her before she would set off on her mission—he would not have stayed.
But he did.
He loves Leia in a way he knows he will never love another, and he knows that it is a kind of love he should not—and will not—abandon.
"You are staring again," she mumbles into the pillow, not once opening her eyes to look at him—he can't help but chuckle.
"Only because I cannot take my eyes off of you, love," he smirk, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. She hums in amusement, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his messy curls, and whispers, "You do say the sweetest things sometimes."
He smiles happily and leans down to kiss her for a brief moment, before he tears his lips from hers and trails soft, warm kisses down her throat.
"Roland," Leia sighs, dragging her fingers down his spine, "We do not have time. My maids will be here soon." In contradiction to her own words, her fingers tangle in his dark locks, pulling him closer as she hitches a leg around his waist.
He growls against her soft skin as she yanks on his hair playfully and nips at the skin of her neck in retaliation. "I don't care," he mutters, pressing gentle kisses to the angry red mark he left on her skin, smiling when she gasps quietly and digs her fingers into his back. He chuckles and kisses his back up to her lips, not even pretending to be surprised when she manages to roll them over so she's straddling him.
He whines low in his throat—the Gods know he is absolutely wrapped around this princess's little finger—when she breaks the kiss and sits up, resting her hands on his stomach as she grins down at him. "You need to go back to your own chambers," she tells him seriously, "you know the groom is not supposed to see the bride before the wedding—much less share a bed with her the night before."
He smirks and leans up, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before moving to kiss her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, desperately trying to distract her—not that he is not looking forward to their wedding, he really is—because he is not ready to face the world just yet.
Unfortunately, his soon-to-be bride sees through his distraction within moments and—despite his best efforts to keep her distracted and in his arms—she manages to peel herself from his embrace and slips out of the bed, retrieving her discarded nightgown and pulling it over head before she turns to look at him in amusement.
"You wouldn't want to be late to your own wedding, would you?" She raises an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she regards him closely—he knows that look, and he knows she means business.
"Fine," he grumbles playfully, moving to get out of the bed and to get dressed, "But only because I have a very important meeting with a very beautiful girl later." He smiles at her when she giggles and crosses the room to wrap her in his arms once more—and despite the doubts and fear that lingers in the back of his mind, despite that he is not sure what kind of future lays ahead of them, he is looking forward to marry the woman he's loved for years.
"I can't wait to marry you," she confides quietly as she rests her head against his shoulder.
He presses his lips to the crown of her head and closes his eyes, savouring this last moment they'll have together before their lives will explode into a chaotic mess of politics and magic.
He is afraid.
And he still does not like the idea of Leia going back in time.
But he loves Leia.
And he will never stop fighting for her.
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Charming's Loft, Storybrooke, Maine—present time
This isn't how Emma imagined her homecoming after her first ultrasound appointment—she'd expected there to be tears (from her mother), and hugging (from her father), and hot chocolate, and ooh'ing and aah'ing over the pictures (from all of them).
She did not expect solemn silence, a nervous tension so thick it could be cut with a knife hanging in the air as everyone watches her mother offer Belle several beverages before she, too, settles in a chair, looking at the brunette beauty expectantly.
Emma's eyes are intermittently drawn to Marian, who's sitting next to Robin, her back perfectly straight and her hands folded demurely in her lap, her eyes on Belle—and though she's pretty sure that Marian isn't out to harm any of them, Leia's warning still rings loudly in her mind.
"Okay, Belle," Snow smiles sweetly, "why don't you tell us why you're here?"
Emma narrowly supresses a grin—only her mother could make this sound like a spontaneous dinner party instead of an emergency meeting to conceive a way to save all their lives—and leans against Killian for support as Belle starts talking, her voice soft and a little shaky, but still determined.
"I was cleaning the back of the shop," Belle swallows thickly, "I don't think Rumple realized I was there… I was supposed to be in the library, you see, and… And then I heard them. They were talking about the little boy—Roland—at first. Rumple has him now… He's locked in the basement. I wanted to get him out first, but I knew Rumple wouldn't touch him, and I knew that if I got him out, Rumple would know I knew, so I decided to come here first, to warn you—they…"
Belle chokes back a sob, and Emma straightens, her fingers tightening around Killian's hook. "Wait," she says slowly, "Rumple has Roland? He's safe?"
Belle's teary gaze turns to Emma as she nods a little. "As safe as he can be right now. I heard the Ice Queen say she had no more use for him."
"Oh thank the Gods," Robin exhales shakily, hesitantly allowing Marian to lean into him after a quick look at Regina, "We have to go get him then. Why are we simply sitting here?"
Before anyone can respond, Killian swallows thickly and says, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, mate, but this is hardly the end of Lady Belle's tale. Also, I do believe that if your lad were truly safe, Leia would have pulled herself out of her spell by now."
Emma looks down, biting her lip nervously as she considers the truth in Killian's words—she, too, believes that Leia would have come charging down the stairs the second she knew Roland was safe—and then shakes her head, running her fingers through her hair. "Tell them the rest, Belle," she sighs, "we need to know what we're up against."
Belle exhales shakily, looking down at her folded hands before she whispers, "They were talking about making sure they'd get their own Happy Ending—at the expense of everyone else's. They—they didn't care," Emma winces when Belle's voice breaks, "he didn't care that they'd be ruining dozens of lives. Rumple said he would pretend to have only saved me and Henry because he was too late to save everyone else—and we wouldn't know any better, so we'd go with him and become a family somewhere else."
Killian swears loudly, and both Robin and her father look like they very much would like to join in—and she can't deny that she would like to curse Rumpelstiltskin out herself—while Marian and Regina just look stricken.
"Gods," Marian whispers, "why would they wish us such ill fates? What did we ever do to them?"
"He's a demon," Killian spits, abruptly jumping to his feet, fiddling with his hook, "he's a bloody monster that should have been put down a long time ago."
"Killian', Snow reprimands, "That's not—"
But Belle interrupts before Snow can finish and whispers, "No. He's right." It obviously costs the young woman a lot to speak the words, and Emma can't help but admire her strength. "He's right," Belle repeats. "I thought… I once said that Hoo—Killian's heart was beyond saving," Emma raises an eyebrow in surprise, but remains mum when Killian and Belle exchange a long look, "I was wrong. It was the other way around. It always was. You did what he couldn't—what he wouldn't. You abandoned the darkness for the light; for love. And Rumpelstiltskin might love me, but the Dark One doesn't. And not even my love is strong enough to break through that curse anymore."
"I'm sorry," Elsa says slowly, "I'm confused. You are his wife, then? This Dark One… He is the man you took me to," she nods to Killian, "to see if he could find Ana for me?"
"Aye," Killian says, and Belle nods shakily.
"But he said that you had his Dagger," Elsa frowns thoughtfully, "I was under the impression that you could control him with it."
"I could," Belle spits, sounding surprisingly bitter and angry, and quite unlike herself, "if he had given me the real Dagger. He didn't. I found out today that he gave me a fake Dagger, so that he could plead innocence by having me use it on him when I commanded him to tell me the truth." Another tear rolls down Belle's cheek, and Emma wants to reach for her, wants to hold her hand and tell her that she deserves so much better than a lying bastard like Rumple, because she may not know Belle very well—she suspects no one knows Belle very well—but she does know that the woman is a genuinely good person.
A tad naïve, perhaps, but a good person, who hasn't deserved any of the crap Rumple has put her through.
Before she can though, Killian strides forward, gently resting his hand on Belle's shoulder. "We'll stop him, lass," he vows, "We will stop the Dark One, and, if it is at all possible," he looks down and shakes his head before continuing, "we will see to it that your husband… Rumpelstiltskin, is returned to you. The man may be a coward, but I do believe he genuinely loves you."
Belle seems a little heartened by his words, but shakes her head nonetheless. "It doesn't matter," she sighs, "What he is trying to do is unforgivable. I can't—" She breaks off and shakes her head. "All I ask is that you allow me to deal with him." When she looks up, Emma can see unshed tears in her eyes, but also an air of determination that tells her to let Belle handle her wayward husband.
"Once we get the real Dagger," Belle continues, "I would like you to give it to me, and I would like you to trust that I will deal with him so that no one will have to worry about the Dark One ever again."
"No."
Everyone jumps at the sudden interruption, and Emma whirls around to see Leia leaning against the bottom of the staircase, looking tired and worn, undoubtedly from using such strong magic for an extended period of time—with Roland cradled in her arms, the little boy's head resting against Leia's collar bone as little snores escape his lips, his little fingers twitching against Leia's shirt.
"Roland!"
Marian and Robin are up and at Leia's side before anyone can do more than blink confusedly, nearly snatching their son from Leia's arms and covering every inch of his skin with kisses. "Thank you," Emma watches as Robin nearly trips over himself to take Leia's hands in his, his voice shaky and unsure, "Thank you so much for keeping him safe."
"Don't mention it," Leia sighs heavily, offering Robin a tired—and somewhat thankful—smile when he offers her his arm to help her to a chair, as Marian snuggles Roland close, her arms wrapped tightly around her son's little body.
Belle gapes at Leia as the girl makes her way to the assembled group, her hand pressed to her ribs as she sinks down on one of the empty seats. "How—how did you get him out?" Belle stutters, her eyes flitting between Roland's still sleeping form in his mother's arms—as Regina looks on with something akin to envy in her eyes—and Leia, who is slightly slumped in her seat, but looks no less fearsome.
"Please," Leia snorts, "even the Dark One couldn't keep me out when Roland was in there." Killian snickers, and Emma rolls her eyes at him—because of course he would be proud of their daughter undoing the Dark One's protection spells with a mere flick of her hand—before her attention is drawn back to Leia, who continued, "And we won't be giving you the Dagger."
"Why—" Belle stutters, her cheeks flaming red, "He's my husband. I should be the one to deal with him. Why would you not agree to this?" Emma is about to agree when her eye falls on Belle's hands—where her fingers are repeatedly twirling her wedding ring around her finger.
Leia eyes Belle sadly, her eyes locked on Belle's fingers as well, before she whispers, "I can't let you take his Dagger. Not while you are still so willing to believe in him."
Belle looks as though she wants to protest, and Emma half expects her to burst into frustrated and angry tears, but instead, she and Leia lock gazes, staring at each other intently for a few moments before Belle chokes, "Why not? I would never—"
"Yes," Leia interrupts, her voice shaky—but Emma can sense Leia's anger, her magic brewing in the air, even as Killian slowly makes his way over to where their daughter is nearly hanging in her seat, "You would. And he would lie to you, and you will believe it. And you won't care."
"You don't know that!" Belle cries, her beautiful features twisted with rage and—unless Emma is very much mistaken—fear.
"Yes, I do!" Leia's agonized shout catches everyone off guard, and Emma winces when Leia glares at Belle angrily. "I do know all of that—I've seen all of that! I've lived through all of that! I've seen all of you do things you couldn't even imagine doing right now! I've seen my grandfather nearly die because he was grieving, I saw my mother struggle to look at me because she couldn't stand that I reminded her of my father—"
Leia's voice breaks, and Emma chokes, her hand pressed to her chest as though it'll lessen the ache, the deep-rooted fear that she'll lose Killian, that she'll hurt her daughter. "I saw you," Leia continues, her eyes locking on Marian, "destroy yourself to get back at my family for your loss. I saw you lose your mind because Robin protected Regina—I watched you go mad because she died anyway and you couldn't take out your anger on her. I watched you make your son miserable for years before he managed to break free of you. I watched you kill my grandfather before I nearly killed you myself. I saw Belle sacrifice everything she believed in so she could stay with the Dark One."
Emma swallows thickly, ignoring the silent tears running down her cheeks—and her mother's, and even Regina's—as everyone in the room stares at Leia, completely dumbstruck by her tirade.
David is staring at her, gobsmacked, and Emma knows he too has finally figured out who Leia is.
"Leia," she whispers, her daughter's gaze meeting hers, "honey…" She reaches out to touch Leia's hand, but Leia pulls away abruptly, her eyes red rimmed and teary. "No," Leia shakes her head, a sob falling from her lips, "No. Don't."
Her eyes find Belle's again, and her voice turns steely. "Don't tell me I don't know. I've seen what the future looks like if I give you that Dagger, and I promise you, you will not like it."
There's a short moment of silence before Mary Margret rises regally, her hands folded before her and her voice thick as she quietly asks to be excused before marching up the stairs, David trailing behind her demurely.
"No!" Marian cries angrily, "No, I wouldn't do such terrible things! You are wrong!" Killian winces in Leia's stead when Marian also stands and shoots Leia a disgusted glare before she marches away with her son in her arms, unsure of what to do—he cannot rightly blame Marian for her reaction to Leia's outburst; he would likely not have wanted to believe Leia either, had it been him.
Robin looks oddly conflicted, shooting Leia an apologetic look before he follows his wife, leaving Leia with Killian and Emma in the now empty living room.
Killian doesn't have to look at Leia's face to know that she is crying—and Killian can't even begin to imagine how hard it must be for Leia to let Marian take Roland, knowing the things that Leia does, having seen the things Leia has, and he has to admire his daughter's strength once again.
"Leia," Killian says gently, stepping forward to touch Leia's shoulder, "are you—" He stops himself before he asks if Leia is okay, because he knows Leia isn't okay. Instead, he steps forward and hugs the girl tightly, allowing Leia to sob quietly for a long moment—he feels for her; and he wishes he had been there during her life.
"I'm sorry," Leia whispers, "I shouldn't have said that, but I was just…"
Killian shakes his head, and Emma moves forward to sit next to her daughter on the loveseat, wrapping one arm around her shoulders as she whispers, "It's going to be okay. Somehow."
Leia looks up at her with teary eyes that make her heart clench painfully before she whispers, "No. It's not. I know which Spell she's going to use. And I don't think we can stop it."
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Storybrooke Library, Storybrooke, Maine—present time
"What about infusing a shield that you and I can conjure with fairy dust?"
Regina shakes her head before Emma is even finished speaking, and Elsa exhales audibly in frustration as she shoves another book to the side. "This is useless," Elsa grumbles, "There is nothing of use in these books. If Leia is indeed correct, and the Queen is to cast the Spell of Shattered Sight, there is nothing anyone of us can do to stop it!" Small patches of ice spread from underneath Elsa's slender fingers on the desk, and small snowflakes flutter down from above the blonde's head—Emma sighs and nods from her spot on the floor, where she is sitting against the desk Elsa is seated at, with a large book on her lap.
She rests her head back against the desk and stares blankly at the yellowed pages, not truly seeing anything. It's not the first suggestion one of them has shot down—in fact, Leia had made more suggestions than all three of them put together, and Emma can't shake the impression that Leia is growing more and more desperate and fearful with every idea that is shot down.
It makes her feel… Unsettled.
She hates to admit it, because she adores the baby growing in her belly already, but she finds it difficult to feel the same kind of love for Leia—it makes little sense, since they are, after all, the same person, but it is a feeling Emma can't quite shake.
She supposes it could be a leftover from her days in the system; the days she spent wondering if anyone was ever going to love her. Maybe it's the idea that Leia represents a future where she'll still have lost everything.
Emma doesn't know what it is that keeps her from feeling the love she knows she can feel, but she knows that Leia knows; and she hates that. "Well, we're going to have to come up with something," she replies eventually, "if not, we'll just tear each other apart and all die anyway."
Leia frowns but doesn't say anything, merely resting her head in her hands with a soft sigh.
Emma bites her lip when she sees that Leia does seem genuinely upset, and she mentally slaps herself when she realizes that she just made it seem like everything Leia did and gave up to be able to help them was useless. "Leia," she sighs, waiting for her daughter to look up at her, "I didn't mean it like that."
Regina raises an eyebrow as she eyes the other women in the room. "Come on," she snaps impatiently, "I thought you heroes never gave up. The four of us are the most powerful sorceresses in history—I'm sure we can come up with something that'll kick that icy bitch's ass."
Leia snorts in amusement, and Emma can't stop a small smile from spreading on her lips—even Elsa looks somewhat heartened by Regina's encouraging words.
"I think I have a different idea," Leia says slowly, fidgeting with the pages of the book before her, "but the shield I have in mind needs some modification… It won't be easy." She contemplates her words for a short moment, before she continues, "It is somewhat like the spell that surrounds the town, but it is far easier to reverse once the threat has passed."
"Show me," Regina orders as she approaches the cabinet Leia had perched herself on top of. She takes the book from Leia carefully, studying the page Leia indicates silently. "I see what you mean," Regina nods after a short silence, "but this protection spell requires Elemental Magic. I do not know how—"
"I do," Leia interrupts, smiling at her mother as she and Elsa get up to join Regina as she studies the spell once again, "I studied Elemental Magic for years, and it is, in essence, not that difficult."
"Hold on," Emma squeaks, her eyes widening in alarm as she manages to translate the final passage on the page, "it says here that the one casting the spell will be locked out of its protection, and will have to face the thing it is protecting the others from."
Leia nods slowly, and Emma can feel that there is something Leia is holding back when she replies, "Hence why it needs modification. I don't think anyone fancies facing that particular spell on their own."
Something about the way Leia speaks the words sends cold shivers down Emma's spine, even as Elsa and Regina murmur in agreement. "Perhaps we could get the fairies to help us," Elsa suggests, "we are, after all, attempting to save their lives as well." Emma turns to Elsa to find the young queen pacing once again, snowflakes following in her wake.
"It's not a bad idea," Emma acquiesces, shrugging, "I could call Mary Margret to go get them while we keep looking." She eyes Leia suspiciously for another moment before she decides to pull her daughter aside and talk to her later, and pulls out her phone to send her mother a text. Before she can press 'send' though, the double doors slam open, and Belle storms in, her hair in a wild disarray, and her eyes wide with panic, clutching the fake Dagger in her hand tightly.
"He knows," she pants, her voice cracking with emotion, "he knows that I caught them—he knows that you know. He left; he's going to her, I know it—what if she casts the Spell sooner than she planned?"
Emma's heart sinks, because they are not ready, they don't have a plan yet, and they most certainly cannot take on both the Ice Queen and the Dark One.
"She can't," Elsa stammers, the snow falling more rapidly now, "right? She can't rush the process of casting the Spell; we knew for sure that it would take at least until tomorrow morning."
"Unless she possesses the ability to use Elemental Magic too," Leia speaks up, and Emma is surprised to hear how calm and steady Leia's voice is—because the mere thought of the Queen being able to cast the Spell without them having some kind of protection spell in place makes her nauseated. She eyes her daughter carefully, but she's unable to read any kind of emotion off of her face, and that makes her feel even more suspicious.
"That's impossible," Regina scoffs, "Even the Dark One himself has not mastered Elemental Magic. It has not been done since… Well, I don't know how long, but it has been millennia, I am sure."
"But we have no idea how long she was in that urn—" Leia protests, and Emma blanches at that; to be honest, she had not even realized that the Ice Queen, too, had been locked in the urn with Elsa, until Leia mentioned it. "For all we know, she has been in there since before the art became forgotten."
That shuts everyone up for a moment—Leia chooses the moment to slide off the cabinet and cross the room to the window. "Either way," she sighs, "we don't have much time left. I'm certain the Dark One has a few tricks up his sleeve, and even if they cast the incomplete Spell, it will cause untold devastation in town—they'll be able to pick off the survivors one by one. We'll be too weak to fight back."
The words send a cold shiver down Emma's spine, and she wonders if that is what happened in Leia's past—if that is how she lost Killian and her mother and so many others. If that was how Emma's heart broke so irreparably that she made her daughter feel as though she didn't want her.
She's not too sure she wants to know the answer to that question.
"Then what do you propose we do?" Regina snipes, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares at Leia's back, "I, for one, am not going to sit around and wait while she tries to curse me."
Leia spins on her heel and raises an eyebrow at Regina, a smirk tugging on her lips—and she looks so much like Killian that it makes Emma's heart skip a beat—as she drawls, "Do you honestly think I went through the trouble of creating a spell that allowed me to travel back in time, casting it, nearly dying a couple times and saving your arses just to sit back and let her win now—because I thought you were cleverer than that."
Elsa snorts while Emma barely manages to hide her grin at Regina's almost-scandalized expression; they all know Regina's not truly offended.
If anything, Regina appreciates Leia's wit, and the fact that Leia is not as idealistically heroic like her grandparents—and they all know it.
"We'll have to modify the shield while we're casting it," Leia continues, ignoring the fresh wave of protests that fall from Emma and Elsa's lips, "there's no time for trial and error—she could be casting the Spell as we speak. If we want to save even one person from being affected by it, we need to start casting it now."
The sense of urgency in Leia's voice makes Emma fall silent, and a heavy weight settles in the pit of her stomach. "What do we need?" She asks shakily, her hand falling to cover her belly without thinking as she meets her daughter's steady gaze with her own. "What can I do?"
"Get Pap—Killian," Leia replies slowly, "and ask Granny if she will mind Henry and Graham, so grandpa and grandma can be involved as well. I'll need as many True Love couples as I can get at the docks—I'll need to draw on that strength as well to make sure the shield won't be breached."
Emma nods shakily, ignoring the fact that Leia once again referenced to Emma's own relationship with Killian as True Love, and sets aside her growing feeling of dread to be able to do her job; the town needs a Savior right now—Leia needs a Savior right now.
She refuses to be a disappointment to her daughter and the town.
She swallows thickly and moves towards the door, barely managing two steps before she feels compelled to turn to look at her daughter—Leia's face is drawn and pale, and she looks as worried as Emma feels, and it makes her stomach roll. "Be careful, Leia," Emma whispers, "Please don't do anything stupid."
"Of course not," Leia replies quietly, her smile tight and not overly convincing, "I never do anything stupid or impulsive. If anything, I think things through far too much." And though Emma wants to believe that Leia isn't going to do anything stupid and potentially life-threatening, and as much as she wants to take those words as a reassurance rather than an ominous warning, something in her daughter's expression tells her that she might be planning to do something exactly like that.
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Merry Men Encampment, West Woods, Storybrooke, Maine—present time
"This is ridiculous, Robin," Marian rants, pacing back and forth in front of the dying embers of their campfire, "this girl comes out of nowhere and accuses me of murder and abuse! How can you just sit there and let her say things like that to me in front of everyone! Especially in front of the Evil Queen!" She doesn't see the way Robin winces when she mentions Regina, and it is just as well—Robin does not fancy adding fuel to the fire that is her indignant rage.
"Marian," he sighs, "Please. Leia was tired and afraid—she lashed out at all of us. Do not take it personally." He doesn't add that he suspects Leia to be their son's future True Love—nor does he mention that he cannot truly fault the girl for hurling accusations of crimes that haven't even been committed yet; he can only imagine how difficult it must be for her to see the way things are now, before her time, knowing the things she does.
"And stop defending her!" Marian cries, rounding on her husband with tears of anger burning in her eyes, "You're supposed to be defending me! You're supposed to love me!" Her heart aches when she takes in his slumped form, the way he's turned away from her just a little bit, and she nearly breaks when she whispers, "When did you stop loving me?"
Robin chokes, his heart clenching at the absolute heartbreak in Marian's voice, because he never meant to make his wife like he doesn't love her—he does, and he always will; he would not have married her had he not believed he would always love Marian. "I never stopped loving you, Marian," he whispers hoarsely, "But you must understand… While it was yesterday for you—" his voice breaks, because he doesn't want to say this, he doesn't want to hurt Marian, because he made a vow to her, and he feels like he should stay true to that vow, because that is what he has always believed in.
If he breaks his word now, what does that say about him?
It would negate everything he has ever believed in, and he is not quite sure he is ready to deal with that.
"—I believed you were dead for nigh three decades, Marian," he trails off quietly, "I'd moved on—perhaps not with the kind of person you or I would have expected, but I did fall in love with her."
Marian exhales shakily, her hands trembling as she moves to sit next to her husband. "She's the reason I disappeared from your life in the first place." She tries not to sound angry and resentful, but she cannot hide the fact that she is. She'd loved Robin from the moment they met, and she had truly believed they were True Love—and she had never doubted it until the moment she saw the way her husband looked at the woman who had imprisoned her for refusing to give up Snow White's location.
"She's not that woman anymore," Robin protests weakly, though he knows it'll mean little to Marian. "She changed—became a better person. And I fell in love with that person—" he sighs and whispers, "I love you, Marian, and I always will… But I'm in love with her."
"I know," she admits quietly, her eyes downcast and her lips down-turned, "though I wish it wasn't so."
"Aye," Robin breathes, "sometimes, I do as well."
Marian offers him a sad smile before she leans her head against his shoulder and sighs. "I do not want to keep you from your happiness. If she is what will make you happy…" She swallows thickly and shudders before finishing, "then I do not wish to stand in your way."
It lightens Robin's heart to hear her speak the words that set him free from his vow to her, even though he knows she only says the words out of love for him. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it," he says as he wraps an arm around her shoulders, "we need to keep our son safe from this Ice Queen first—help Regina and the others defeat her… And then, when there are no villains around, we can decide what to do."
Marian nods mutely, silent tears sliding down her cheeks as she considers the fact that she will be losing her husband in a few weeks—maybe even days—time.
She doesn't think she's ready to give him up.
But she will try—she doesn't want to be his second choice; she doesn't want to be with someone who doesn't want to be with her.
.
.
.
The docks, Storybrooke, Maine—present time
Emma fidgets as she watches Regina and Leia pace back and forth along the edge of the docks, Leia gesturing wildly as Regina shakes her head. Emma knows they're arguing about how to cast the protection spell without having to lock someone outside of its protection, but the longer they are arguing, the clearer it becomes to Emma that they might not be able to save everyone this time—and the mere thought of it makes her feel sick.
"Are you alright, love?"
She sighs quietly when Killian steps up behind her, his hand coming up to rest on her waist as she leans back into his embrace. "No," she breathes, "I'm not. Our daughter is trying to save our town, and if she can't, we're all going to die, and I can't help at all. I hate feeling so… Useless."
Leia had actually refused to let her cast any sort of magical spell before it was absolutely necessary, since Elemental Magic requires a lot from the caster's body—even for someone in perfect health, like Leia and Regina, casting the spell using Elemental Magic will be incredibly physically taxing—and Emma knows she's right; she's pregnant, she can't risk doing anything too physically straining, especially a kind of magic that hasn't been properly explored for thousands of years, but it is incredibly frustrating.
"I know, darling," Killian soothes her, rubbing his hand on her belly, where their daughter is growing, "but what you are doing is important as well. You are fighting to keep our daughter—our daughter—safe; to give her a future better than the one fate bestowed upon her." He presses a kiss to her hair and she melts into his arms, briefly allowing herself a moment of peace before she has to return to worrying—to fearing for their lives and their futures.
"Emma?"
Her peaceful bubble is shattered by her mother's soft voice, and she turns to see her mother and father standing a few paces behind her and Killian, Ariel and Eric, Ashley and Thomas and even Robin gathered in a small group behind them.
"Hey," she gulps nervously, "I think Leia and Regina are almost ready to start casting the Spell."
Her mother nods and smiles tightly, before turning to the other couples gathered behind her and explaining what will be happening. Emma bites her lip as she watches her parents gesture hurriedly, the heavy pit in her stomach only growing larger and heavier the longer she looks from Leia and Regina to her parents and the other True Love's couples.
With a quiet grumble, she turns and promptly hides her face against Killian's chest—she knows it will not make the situation any better, nor easier, if she pretends that it isn't happening, but she's just so tired of having to fight constantly.
She's so tired of needing to defend her right to live a happy and peaceful life with a family she once thought she would never have.
"We are going to start," Leia announces when she and Regina join her and Killian, "we think we have a pretty good idea of where to alter the protection spell's incantation to allow the caster to remain inside the protection barrier as well. It should work, especially with so many True Love's couples to aid our powers."
Emma looks up and smiles tightly. "Okay. Can I help?"
Regina shakes her head and lays a surprisingly gentle hand on Emma's shoulder. "No. Not with the actual casting of the spell. It is too much—the baby would not be able to handle a spell of this calibre; it is dangerous even for us."
Emma pouts, but nods in understanding. She doesn't want to do anything that might harm baby Leia—even if it means staying out of the actual action this time. Elsa sidles up beside them and smiles at Emma. "Worry not. I shall be taking over your part in the spell. I won't let anything happen to your family. And after, perhaps we can find my sister."
Emma nods, sending Elsa a grateful smile—she may not have known the young queen for very long, but she and Elsa were kindred spirits, in a way. She hoped that, when they had found what had happened to Elsa's family, Elsa would choose to remain in Storybrooke—Emma would enjoy having a friend that wasn't her mother.
"We must begin," Leia interrupts abruptly, her eyes flashing with green as they scan the horizon, "I can feel her magic brewing—she too will cast her spell soon."
The note of urgency in Leia's voice snaps them all to attention, and the others gather around them, all eager to hear what Leia needs from them to protect their town. "Just…" Leia hesitates as she scans the faces of all the people that turned up, "hold hands. Focus on your love for one another. I will be tapping into that magic, and I will need you to let me. You'll feel tired—you'll feel a little drained; but whatever you do, don't stop focusing on that love. If you do, the whole spell will collapse onto itself."
Emma swallows thickly, somewhat afraid of the implication that Leia and Regina's success or failure will be upon them, but remains mum. If this is all she can do to help her daughter protect the town and the people they love, then that's what she'll do.
"You can do this, little love," Killian tells Leia, smiling brightly as he pulls his daughter into his arms. "I have faith in you." He pretends not to notice how tightly Leia's fingers grip his shoulders as she hugs him in return—pretends he doesn't hear the shaky exhale that falls from her lips as she rests her forehead against his shoulder—pretends he doesn't notice the salty tears that drip through his shirt onto his skin.
"It's going to be fine," he breathes, rubbing his hand over her back in a comforting gesture, "you're a hero already, little love. You've already saved us." He doesn't know if it offers her any sort of comfort to hear the words, and honestly, even if it didn't, he's fairly certain she appreciated the effort all the same.
They remain as they are for one more moment, embracing tightly, as though it might be the last time they get the chance—perhaps it is, but he is choosing to believe that it will not be—before Leia pulls herself away, straightening up and wiping a few strands of hair from her face as she turns to Regina.
"We should start," she says, her voice surprisingly level, "I'll need to focus on Robin as much as you can—the only part of the spell you'll need to say with me is the part that will allow me to remain within its protection as well. That's it."
Killian smiles towards Leia as Regina nods, reaching for Emma's hand as he does so.
"We are ready as well," Ashley replies in a steady voice, her hands firmly entwined with her husband's, glancing over her shoulder to find the other couples nodding as well. "We won't let you down."
Leia nods jerkily before spinning on her heel, striding towards the edge of the docks—Killian doesn't think anyone notices just how badly her hands are shaking, and he hates that they are putting so much pressure on her… And if he could do this in her place, he would. For once, he hates that he possesses no magic; that he can be of no use here, other than remembering how much he loves Emma.
"She can do this," Emma whispers, and he's not too sure if she's telling him, or if she's telling herself.
"Of course she can," Killian replies succulently, drawing Emma into his arms as they watch their daughter start the process of casting the spell, "she's quite brilliant—just like her mother."
Emma clutches his hand in hers and presses their entangled fingers to her belly as she leans back into him. "I love you," she whispers, her voice small and trembling, "I love you, and Henry and Leia and my parents. I love all of you." He presses a kiss to her head when she finishes speaking and smiles a little. "I love you as well, darling. All of you. It's enough. Our love will be strong enough to help her succeed."
He keeps his eyes on his daughter as he speaks, and prays to whatever deity that is listening that he is right.
He's not certain he would be able to handle the alternative.
.
.
.
Hidden caves, West Woods, Storybrooke, Maine—present time
As she paces the small space, she studies the intricate designs her ice has left on the cold stone walls. It is all she can do, after all, while she waits for the Dark One to fulfill his word—it is an unusual manner of operating, for her, to trust that others will carry out their part of the plan, but she has little choice.
She has no knowledge of the strange world she had suddenly found herself in.
She had no knowledge of how many years she had spent imprisoned in the small enchanted copper vase until the Dark One—a vastly different sorcerer than she recalled—had appeared before her and offered her a deal she could not pass up.
After her other cohort had met his untimely demise—though she can hardly fault the young girl that had eventually taken his life; he was a bit off his rocker, and he was far more of a liability than an asset, to be honest—she had withdrawn from the so-called band of heroes and took some time to regroup.
She was well aware that her opponents were convinced they had dealt her a heavy blow by disposing of George, but in all honesty, she was only relieved to be rid of him. She had only befriended him and invited into her bed to tie his loyalties to her; it was, after all, her expertise.
His death was somewhat unexpected, but not devastating.
The fact that she managed to take the little boy and so distracted the aim of their search was but a lucky coincidence. She took him, initially, because she could sense an inordinate amount of natural magic in him—it was not until later, when she tried to draw it out by overstimulating his senses, that she realized it was not the boy's magic that she could sense.
He was connected to it, yes, but it was not his.
Once she had realized that, she quickly lost her interest in him and gave him to the Dark One.
It was then that she began hiding in plain sight, to search for the source of the incredible kind of magic that protected the boy, and the town, as she later realized, from harm.
It had only taken her a short while to realize that it was the girl—the one that had killed George—who possessed a kind of magic she had never encountered before. At first, she had been rather taken aback by its raw power, but then the demon that had long since claimed ownership of her soul had reared its ugly, greedy head and decided that, instead of simply reclaiming the lands that had once been hers to rule, they would also claims the girl's soul, and, subsequently, her magic.
She recalls how she had briefly attempted to resist the lure of drawing another innocent soul into the hell she herself had been drawn into as a mere girl—but her resistance had been short-lived and futile. Her soul had not been fully human in many, many years, and she had not truly felt any sort of emotion for far longer than that.
Even now, it is difficult to recall anything of her last night as a simple human girl; the last night of the old year—she only knows that it had been freezing, and that she could no longer feel her little toes and fingers. She remembers the matches that she had been obliged to sell, and her own inability to do so—and she remembers dying.
She recalls waking the next day—the new year—as something new and terrifying and powerful.
Something inhuman.
Her musings are interrupted as the Dark One—Rumpelstiltskin, she reminds herself—appears before her, a triumphant grin on his lips as he holds out a small, glass vial with what appear to be two entwined hairs.
"We are ready," he cackles, "and the human sacrifice will be taken care of by our dear heroes themselves."
She nods curtly—after all, she has no interest in anything but regaining what was hers before she was locked in her copper prison—and takes the glass vial from his hand before turning to the mirror she had mounted against one of the cold stone walls.
"Excellent," she muses, studying her own reflection, "It is time we were granted what we deserve."
.
.
.
The docks, Storybrooke, Maine—present time
He's not certain when he realized that things were not going according to plan; after all, his entire being was focused on the love of his life—but he knows it was not until it was too late. He recalls seeing Leia and Regina exchange a look—a look that says more than an entire conversation would have—and then, suddenly, Regina takes a step back, dragging Elsa with her. It's no more than a split-second—but that split-second is all Leia and Regina needed to make a decision that would save all their lives.
All but Leia's.
As Regina steps back—and he steps forward, a protest ready to fall from his lips—a loud shattering sound makes them all freeze, his heart skipping a beat as he realizes that he just heard the Spell of Shattered Sight being cast. And then, before he gets the chance to do anything—not that he had any sort of plan or idea to execute—he gets pushed back, stumbling into Emma and her parents as he watches in horror as his daughter seals the protection spell—with her still on the outside.
He barely hears Emma's horrified cry as he hurries towards the barrier—all of his attention focused on the girl standing on the other side of the barrier, tall and beautiful and strong and brave—and so goddamn stubborn.
"Leia, no," Killian pleads, stumbling forward to press his hand against the warm, invisible barrier that separates him and Emma and the rest of Storybrooke from Leia—and from the Spell of Shattered Sight, that is hurdling towards them. "Don't," he chokes, "there's another way, there has to be another way."
"There isn't," Leia smiles weakly, her eyes teary but determined, strong and unwavering and if she wouldn't be on a damn suicide mission, he'd be proud of her. "I can do this. This is why I came back. I can save everyone."
"Not at your expense," Emma cries desperately from beside him, pressing her hands—glowing bright with magic in a desperate attempt to break through their daughter's shield—, "There's another way, Leia. There's always another one." There's desperation and heartbreak in her voice and he can't stand it, can't stand the idea of their daughter dying, even to protect the entire town.
He doesn't care about the entire town, he just wants his girl to be safe.
His family.
"There's no time," Leia sobs sadly, a soft, heart-breaking smile tugging on her lips, her hand pressed to the shield over his and Emma's, "If I don't do this, the Spell will tear all of you apart. This way, it's just me."
The dark, purple and black clouds, shimmering with silver shards of glass, are approaching fast behind her, and he feels sick at the mere notion of those shards harming even a single hair on her head. "Little love, please don't do this," he whispers, ignoring the fact that a dozen or so people are probably listening in on the increasingly private conversation, "please… We can—we can find a way that doesn't require anyone dying."
Before he finishes speaking, she is shaking her head, and tears are rolling down her cheeks—and he can tell she is as frightened as he is. "I'm going to do this," she says quietly, but determinedly, "and I need you to know that I love you," she sobs—she's tearing his guts out, he can't breathe, he can barely see through the desperate, angry, frightened tears clouding his sight—, "I love you both so much," Leia continues, "and I'm not afraid…"
Emma drops her forehead to the barrier, sobbing as she pleads for Leia to break the Spell, but their daughter continues, her voice strong and unwavering despite the fact that he is about to watch his little girl die and he can't do a damn thing about it.
He doesn't think he will survive seeing another loved one die.
"Leia," he chokes, "Leia, please."
"I love you," she whispers, pressing her hand to the barrier where his lays, "Don't look."
And he obeys.
He doesn't look.
He clutches Emma's hand in his, crying silently as he listens—as he listens to Leia reaffirming the protection spell she placed around the town, listens to the Spell of Shattered Sight hurtling closer—and listens to Leia's strangled, pained cry when it hits.
And when the protection spell shatters as Leia breathes her last—so does he.