Disclaimer in Chapter One.

Henry's eyes fluttered open as the sun's rays shined brightly onto his face. He groaned, trying to get bearing of his surroundings, but the sun, despite his still droopy eyes, was way too blinding for him. It was just way too early for the ten-year old. He stuffed his face in the pillow. He must have forgotten to close the curtain again last night.

Suddenly, he sat up, arms straight against a bed that was not his and in a room that was not his own.

He had really hoped all of yesterday had been a really intense dream and that he would wake up and laugh about it with his moms while they made bird's nest toast and listened to oldie's music. Already he could hear his Ma say it wasn't oldies. Classic rock was still relevant. But no. He was still here in this weird land in these weird clothes, and he really wished he hadn't slept in these leather pants because now he was all hot, and never before did he miss arguing about bedtime with his Mom more than he did now.

He took a steadying breath and sat up on the bed. It was large for his tiny frame, but despite its size, it wasn't anything like his Moms bed back home. It felt like it was made out of a mixture of straw and sheep's wool, but the silk sheets on the bed let him know that obviously someone important slept here. He took a moment to look around the room.

"Woah." His eyes widened as he took in the high vaulted ceilings and the ornately decorated space. The bed he was positioned against a wall in the middle of the room, and behind him, a large opening gave way to an even bigger balcony. He could hear the faint song of birds singing in the distance. He stood up. Across the bed on the opposite wall was a fireplace just as big as him, the embers dying in the burnt wood. A chaise sat in front of it with a knitted blanket draping the back. To his right was a vanity, and though beautifully crafted, it looked to be made out of black steel. His hand reached out to touch the perfume bottles lining the table, and he picked up a short stubby one, barely used and homing a light purple liquid. Bringing it to his nose, he gave the spray a sniff. It smelled just like Mom.

A banging sounded as the door to the room burst open, and he nearly dropped the perfume in his fright.

"Put that down." Killian entered the room, his helmet under his arm as he pointed menacingly to Henry, but what startled him was that his other hand was no longer there.

Quickly he put the vial down , his back to the vanity as he gripped at the edges of the table. "Wh-what happened to your hand?"

He glared and took his helmet into his good hand, bringing the hook up to eye level. "Your precious Saviour."

Henry took a step forward, scared now with images of Emma with a hook coming out of her back flashing in his mind. "Where's my mom?"

"You mean the traitor?" Killian sneered as he stepped towards the boy. "The Queen will have her head now that she knows the Saviour is nothing more than a treasonous coward."

"She's not a coward, she's my mom!" Henry's fists clenched against his sides as he yelled at the man. If he was going to be in this world, then he'd have to play by its rules, and Killian was no friend to him here.

Killian growled and lurched forward, faster than Henry anticipated. The guard dropped his helmet to the floor with a clang and gripped Henry with his good hand. He trailed the point of his hook down Henry's cheek so closely Henry feared to move in case he got nipped. "Then perhaps you'd like to join your traitorous mother in the dungeon?"

Henry whimpered. In the dark reflection of the man's cold eyes, he could see his own cowering form, failing to break the hold on his neck. In Storybrooke, Killian was a cool friend of the family, but he had no idea what had happened to this world's Deputy Jones to make him be the way he was.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Immediately the grip on Henry's neck loosened as Killian looked past him with a glare. Henry squinted though he remained tense. Who was he looking at?

The deep, ominous voice spoke again. "Let him go, Hook."

The Captain of the Guard scowled though his grip remained firm. "He's nothing but the son of a traitor."

"Who is under the Queen's protection," the voice reminded him. "Harm him, and I shall make sure she knows it."

With a growl, Killian released Henry, the boy's back thumping into the edge of the vanity. He couldn't help but turn and look to see who had come to his rescue, but when he saw the disembodied head floating in wisps of blue smoke in the mirror, he yelped and jumped back into the captain. Killian pushed him off and strode back toward the entrance of the room. Henry stared dumbfounded at the face in the mirror that was very much not his own.

"Y-you can talk," he stammered, pointing at the head.

Despite the lack of body, he obviously shrugged. "I am the Queen's closest confidante."

"More like a nuisance." Killian bent to scoop up the helmet from the floor and stood by the doorway, his arms crossed as he took his post.

Henry rushed toward the vanity and gripped at the edges of the mirror, eyes wide with wonder. He laughed breathless to himself. "You're the Magic Mirror, aren't you?"

"I am the Genie," he nodded.

Henry looked behind him to see Killian scanning the area and ignoring him and the mirror. He turned back and whispered. "You know my mom? Regina the Queen?"

The Genie raised an eyebrow, and even though he was a simple floating head, Henry felt the mysterious man appraise him from head to toe. Motioning with his eyes, the Genie cast his gaze downward to a compact. Catching on, Henry picked up the compact and hid it in his shirt as he walked toward the balcony. His ruse of simply enjoying the morning air seemed stealthy enough for him, and with a careful glance behind his shoulder, he could see Killian was preoccupied with guarding the exit more than him.

He flipped open the compact once he got outside and whispered to the Genie. "I was at the inn with my Ma, and then Mom came and everything was a blur. Do you know where they are?"

The Genie pursed his lips, and if he had hands, he would have brought a finger up to his chin in thought. Again his dark eyes raked over the boy before he finally spoke. "Truly you are not of this world."

Henry shook his head before his eyes widened. "How do you know?" He hissed.

"I can travel through all the mirrors in all the realms," he explained. "But what the Queen fails to realize is that this world is not the only one in existence."

"I am in a different world," Henry stated in awe.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps just a different plane, running together with your world."

"But everyone from here, I've seen them in town. How can they be here?"

The Genie chuckled knowingly. "Like your mother, you will come to realize that while you may simply be a speck in the grand scheme of themes, your speck is just as important as the powers that created this universe."

The ten-year old scrunched up his nose confused. "Can you see my home? How can we get back?"

The Genie smiled. "You'll know when the time comes."

"But when's–" He didn't have time to finish his question when the man in the mirror disappeared, first his face, then his smile, then finally the wisps of blue smoke.

Henry tapped the mirror angrily. "Hey! I still have questions!"

The doors behind him boomed open. Henry turned suddenly, pocketing the compact in his shirt as he saw his mother approach. "Mom!"

He ran from the balcony to her, but Killian beat him to it, catching him around the middle and preventing him from getting any closer.

"Enough." Regina held up a hand before she looked to her guard. "Leave."

"Your Majesty—"

Regina waved her hand and Killian was pulled from the room, the doors shutting loudly behind him. Henry gasped and stared disbelieving at her. Emma had told him that Regina had magic, but seeing it—he was pretty sure he was more terrified than amazed because standing before him wasn't his mom who could probably magic a giant rainbow-coloured cupcake into thin air, but this was the woman who had just flung a man from the room without batting an eye.

But it was his mom.

He hadn't gotten a good look the night before, but Regina stood before him, hair done up in a beehive look and a blood red dress that she probably wouldn't be caught dead in if they were back home. She was paler, like she had covered her body in chalk, but all that did was make the dark eye make-up around her face pop.

He probably should have been scared, he was in the presence of the fabled Evil Queen after all, but all he saw was his mom in an elaborate Halloween costume, and if anyone could help him out of this land it would be her. He took a step forward. "Mom—"

"Your mother," Regina interrupted with a raised hand, her tone spitting the word like it disgusted her to say, "is in the dungeons."

He sighed exasperated, refraining from jumping up and down in his annoyance. He was half a second away from banging their heads together just to get them to remember. "You're both my moms. I'm Henry. Don't you remember me?"

For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw something in Regina's eyes, like they widened just a little bit in shock. She schooled it quickly and scoffed as she sauntered before him. "Don't be so bold, child."

The queen took a moment to circle around Henry, stalking him like a hawk with its prey. With every turn around him, Henry shifted his head to meet her gaze. Her mask was unreadable until she stopped in front of him and shook her head, muttering so softly he was sure it wasn't meant for his ears. "Where has she been hiding you?"

Boldly, he straightened and demanded. "What happened between you two?"

She visibly darkened, and Henry couldn't tell if she was offended or surprised. Probably both. If he knew anything about his mom, it was to steer clear of her when that vein on her forehead pulsed, and he was pretty sure it was ready to explode.

She took careful and calculated steps toward him, every step echoing in the spacious chambers. "Do not," she threatened, "question your Queen."

His mothers never laid a hand on him, not even to spank him when he threw a tantrum in the grocery store. He had no doubt that this woman wasn't afraid to do that and more if he wasn't careful. Anyone else in the realm would have cowered beneath her glare, whimper under the hold she had on his chin as her eyes promised pain.

But he wasn't from this realm, was he?

"No." Henry stomped a foot and crossed his arms over his chest, pulling away from her grip. He was fed up explaining to one mother who he was and he'd be damned if be wasted a day proving it to the other mother. He eyed her, and even though he was small, he held her gaze just as fiercely as she could. "You're both my moms, and you're the one who makes sure I take my vitamins every day and even gets me the gummy ones because those are my favourite. And you're the one who will lie down on the floor with me when I read in your office and you're still working on paperwork. And you're the one who always lays out our clothes before a nice party because me and Ma and you always match."

There were tears to his eyes now, tears streaming down his face because even though had tried to be brave for the past day, all he wanted was for his moms to make it go away. He felt like a lost boy in a grocery store, crying out for his moms. They were right there and he couldn't even reach them. Regina took a step back when his tears started to spring, but he hiccupped and pushed forward.

"I don't care if you're the Evil Queen here. I just want to go home, Mom." He rushed forward and buried himself into her front, sobbing quietly as he hugged her tightly.

Regina wasn't always the Evil Queen, though judging by the last few years, even she couldn't remember being something other than her monicker. It was a name created by the White Kingdom, an insulting name to rouse the support of the rebellion. She laughed when she heard it at first. If they wanted evil, they should have looked to their insipid little ruler. Snow attempting to destroy the Western Kingdom, now that was evil.

Waging war, sending her most fierce warriors to attack footmen whose only crime was swearing fealty to the wrong queen—that had earned her the name of Evil Queen.

She understood it, and to a great extent thrived on it. If Snow White thought she could break their peace treaty, then absorbing their kingdom was a sure fire way to let surrounding noblemen know not to make the same mistake as the young Queen.

After that, everyone kept their distance from Regina, fearing they would be the victim of her next reign of terror. It had been years since anyone had shown her any sort of affection, let alone hugged her, but here she was, standing in her chambers with a small boy sobbing into her chest.

She remained stiff under his grasp, his tears staining the bodice of her dress. Everything inside her told her to push this boy anyway, demand where he got such nerve to think that she and Emma—the Saviour—of all people could be his mothers.

But she didn't.

She stood there letting him cry on her, and her fingers twitched to at least smooth the bangs away from his face. Not only was he a delusional peddler boy, but he was in sore need of a haircut. There was something about his scent that incited a bout of nostalgia in the Queen. As if she had smelled this before, once upon a time.

"I want to go home," the boy moaned, squeezing her tighter. "Let's go home, Mom."

She swallowed thickly, her hands coming up as if knowing this boy needed soothing, but she could bring herself to do it.

The sound of her guards scurrying to stand in formation outside the door cleared her head. She shrugged the boy off her and straightened her dress with one swoop of her hand.

"Stay here," she said in a hoarse voice. She turned toward the door. "You'll be well taken care of."

"No, no." He grabbed for her hand and caught a few fingers before she pulled it away. "No, Mommy!"

Her breath hitched as she slipped past the doors and they slammed shut behind her.

Emma winced as she clutched at her ribs. No doubt Killian gave her a good kicking when Regina wasn't watching. The prat was always looking for a way to climb the ranks and what better way to take over the traitorous Captain of the Guard's place. She scoffed. Then winced. Her ribs were definitely sore. With much effort, she removed the cloak that had once kept her identity and tossed it to the ground. The white shimmering material was now stained with dirt and grime.

She groaned as she pushed herself off the cold concrete floor and sat up against the cavernous walls of the dungeon. She was usually on the other side of the bars, keeping watch of the prisoners whose crimes were so foul they were kept under the watchful eye of the Queen's Guards. Obviously treason called for close keeping. Somewhere in the corner of the cell, water dripped from the damp moisture that seeped from the earth and cut through the underground dungeon's walls. That was going to drive her crazy.

Then a rhythmic click-click sounded in the hallway before a heavy metal door screeched open. The click-click echoed as the door was pulled shut, and with every click forward, it grew louder and louder. Forget the dripping water, Emma thought with an eyeroll. Whatever was to follow would surely drive her mad.

Bracing herself, she stood up, using the wall as leverage as she walked slowly toward the bars. Her leg was stinging and the wound on her arm from the arrow was burning something fierce, but she wasn't about to let on that. Gripping a bar between each fist, she straightened and prepared herself.

From around the bend of the corner, Regina emerged. Even though Emma's last thought before Regina had frozen her the night before had been shitshitshit, now all she could do was sigh for the time lost. It had been two years since she had seen this woman last, and not a day went by where she wondered if what she had done had been worth it in the end. She had to believe it. Otherwise, she was living in a hole in the ground and taking up a cloak for nothing.

Regina approached slowly, a perfect fit to the dark and gloomy dungeons in her blood red dressed embossed with jewels at every lining. Emma had to laugh. She once knew the woman to want nothing more than to shed her skirts and run through the field in breeches. But that was a long time ago.

The Queen stood in front of the bars, her eyes raking up and down Emma's battered form. Anyone else tried for treason would have been unrecognizable now, and Emma couldn't help but wonder why Regina left her nearly untouched when she was Enemy Number Two in the eyes of the crown.

"The Saviour," Regina finally drawled, motioning to Emma with a wave of her hand. "I should have known."

Emma inclined her head as she whispered. "My Majesty."

Regina didn't flinch in acknowledgement as she brought her face right up to the bars. "We are far past that title."

"And whose fault is that?" Emma asked, meeting her challenging stare.

"Yours when you decided to let Snow White live!" The vein in her forehead popped as her eyes widened menacingly. She clutched the bars tightly just as Emma did, and if it weren't for the barrier between them, Regina would have butted their heads in her sudden fury to get close.

Emma didn't back down. Her lip twitched in her own anger. "I'm sorry I didn't want the blood of someone on my hands!"

"But you're fine with killing assassins who try to attack me."

"That's different!"

"How?"

"Because I'm protecting you!"

Regina scoffed and pulled back. She walked the width of the hallway before she turned back to face the blonde. "Protecting me would have been giving me Snow's head on a pike."

Emma softened with a heavy sigh. As black as Regina's eyes were right now, the blonde stared intently into them remembering the days when they shone golden in the sun. "No. It's not."

"You don't get to decide that for me anymore."

"You've already won," she implored. "You don't need to instigate anything further. You'll just cause another war. Snow hasn't been sighted since—"

"Since you let her escape!" The Queen marched to the cell once more.

Emma shook her head. "She won't hurt you, Regina. Trust me."

"Trust you?" Regina laughed before she levelled her glare on the blonde behind the bars. Her voice lowered to a low timber. "I did trust you. And it's Your Majesty."

"I thought we were past that title." Emma's lips quirked upwards. She took a step back and removed her hands from the bars, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want, Regina?"

"Is that the way to address the woman who holds your fate in her hand?"

Emma tilted her head. The intimidation game the Queen was famous for had no effect on the former Captain of the Guard. It was the one thing Emma knew Regina liked about her, but now she just used it to get a rise out of the brunette. "You want to know what I think?"

"Not in particularly," Regina tittered.

"I think you knew who the Saviour was this whole time," she began in a sing-song voice. "And I think if you really wanted to kill me, then you would have burned that inn down to the ground. Unless you're holding sentimental value with it?"

Regina shook her head incredulously before she stared at Emma dumbfounded. "Why were you even hiding there?"

The blonde held out her hand in a dismissive shrug. "I like the mutton."

Regina rolled her eyes. Emma's sass was always an annoyance to the queen. "Did you really think that I would allow you to get away with killing my guards and causing a riot against me."

"Hey," Emma eyed her offended. "I never killed any guards and I sure as hell never rioted against you. What the rebellion does when I'm not there is not on my hands. I saved people from being harmed by Killian. You know his reputation with the women in this land."

"At least he follows orders," Regina stomped.

The blonde scoffed and rolled her eyes. "A hook? Really, Regina? You used to have standards for your guards."

Regina summoned a fireball in her hand out of anger, the ball glowing bright orange in the darkness of the cavernous dungeon. Emma eyed it before cocking an eyebrow and re-crossed her arms. "I'm not scared of you, Regina."

"You should be, Saviour." Regina stepped to the bars with a threatening promise. They stared at each other for long moments, green eyes catching brown and not backing down. Finally Regina relented and diminished the ball. She brushed a strand of hair from her face with a huff before walking to the opposite side of the hall. "This boy, what of him?"

Emma rolled her eyes again, this time more annoyed than unamused. "He says he's your kid. You tell me."

"He says he's yours," Regina countered. She turned swiftly before looking at Emma with disgust. "Did you have him before joining my guard and stashed him away?"

"Did you lie about not being able to have children?"

"Of course not!" Regina slammed her open palm against the bars in a blind fury that even Emma jolted back in surprise.

The blonde looked down, pink colouring her cheeks before she glanced up and had the decency to look ashamed. The only sound between them was that damn dripping water and the heavy breathing of the queen as her anger took control.

Emma caught her eye, apologizing in the silence before Regina removed her hand from the bar and placed her hands on her hips.

"Have you spoken with him?" Emma asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Briefly," Regina answered as her hands moved from her hips to wrap around herself at the waist. Her face softened from the anger it once held until it turned into a mixture of confusion and something Emma hadn't seen in over two years. "He...he hugged me."

Blonde eyebrows shot up in surprise. "And he's still alive?"

"He's a child," Regina pointed out dryly, the eye roll held back but her face showing her obvious disapproval for such an idiotic sentence.

"Ours, apparently." Emma took the few steps back to the bars and looped her arms through, letting them dangle outside the cell.

Regina scoffed. "He's stubborn and short-sighted like you. He had the nerve to yell at me."

"Stubborn and short-sighted?" She smirked. "Now that sounds like you."

Regina didn't hold back her displeasure as she let out an annoyed huff before she waved her hand in dismissal. "We need to figure out where he came from, and then after that, you will be dealt with."

The blonde hunched forward, leaning her weight against the bars. "We?"

"He's obsessed with us," Regina rationalized. "Can you imagine what will happen to me if he continues to babble on about his delusions of grandeur?"

"The masses will think highly of you?" Emma posed with a coy smile. She straightened then with a finger to the air in thought. "Wouldn't it be just scandalous that the Evil Queen had a love child with the Saviour?"

Regina held her stare, and Emma's cocky eyes suddenly grew uncomfortable under the intensity. With a slight shake to her head, Regina murmured so quietly Emma just barely caught it. "Perhaps if history had gone down differently that may have happened."

Emma froze, her lips thin as she took in those words. She thought about that too. Every day for two years.

Regina shook herself out of her reverie. "No matter. Considering the circumstances, you're lucky you're alive, Saviour."

"I knew you wouldn't kill me."

"Not yet."

Emma rolled her eyes.

The Queen held up her hand and with a flick of her wrist, the cell opened with a click. The cell door swung open, but before Emma could even think about stepping out, Regina sauntered over and blocked the entrance.

There they were, without barriers and borders or kill orders between them.

Regina's eyes raked up and down Emma's body, the brown darkening until the Queen took a deep breath and continued on with her dramatics. She turned on the spot, her skirts billowing around her as she walked back down the hallway. "I assume the boy won't like it if I have his mother's heart in my hand. So that's why you're still alive."

Emma didn't move from the cell and just watched Regina as she took more and more steps away from her. "His name is Henry."

Regina paused.

"The boy is named Henry," she repeated with one short hysterical laugh. "After your father."

Slowly, Regina turned.

"Why?"

The brunette didn't answer and simply continued to look at Emma as if she didn't understand the words she was saying. Regina wasn't dumb, anyone in the kingdom could see that. But what only Emma could see was uncertainty. Regina had no idea why this boy who claimed to be their son had a name so dear to the Queen most feared.

Emma stepped out of the cell. "What if he's saying is true? What if in another life we—"

Regina raised her arm and flicked her wrist. Before Emma could finish, she found herself back into the Queen's Guard armour, black and shining and bearing her insignia.

The move alone distracted the blonde as she moved around awkwardly in the too large gear. "This isn't even mine."

"Everyone in the kingdom knows you're a traitor, and only a handful of guards know you're captive," Regina explained as she took calculated steps back toward Emma. She flipped the visor down over the blonde's face with a squeaky clank. "If you be a good Saviour and blend in, you may walk beside me."

"Regina—"

The Queen flicked her wrist again, and Emma's voice was stolen. The muted blonde waved her arms before she stomped her foot incredulously. As much as she was loathed to admit, she and Regina had to figure out where Henry came from and send him back for good.