A/N: Sorry if this chapter took a little longer to upload. It took me longer than I expected to write it. I hope everyone enjoys it.

Magic was like any dominant trait in a bloodline-it was inheritable. Some children were born with blue eyes, others were born with the ability to literally bring the house down. Emma had been a true love baby, but she couldn't recall any instance where she performed magic.

"It isn't unheard of," Jefferson explained, lounging back in Rumpel's favorite chair at the dining table, feet propped up on the table, a teacup balanced in his hands. They had called him over for a second opinion. It was only because of Emma's restraint that Rumpel didn't light Jefferson's bottom on fire-the old-fashioned way, of course-to get him out of that chair. He sure did pout, though.

Emma tried to concentrate less on her husband's childish tendencies and more on what Jefferson was telling them.

"Especially for babies born of true love," he continued. One of his fingers let go of the teacup and pointed to Emma. "Even you, Emma, probably showed early signs of magic."

Emma gave him a doubtful look.

"Wouldn't I remember if I did? You forget it took Henry almost a year to convince me the curse was real. After your little kidnapping stunt, that is."

The minute those words left her lips, Emma wished she could suck them back in. Jefferson nearly dropped his teacup. He didn't like to be reminded of that incident. She knew he still felt guilty for what happened to Morraine. Even Rumpel stopped pouting and grimaced at the floor.

Jefferson rushed on before she could properly apologize for ripping open old wounds.

"Not necessarily. You could have been a baby at the time, with much less control over your power. Babies are more sensitive to the world than adults and they tend to react strongly. You know...violent changes in weather when you were angry, a bright flash of light when you were happy."

Come to think of it, it did rain a lot whenever she threw a tantrum as a child. She just never connected it to the possibility of magic. Since there were so few times where she had been happy, she never noticed the world sparkle.

"I was a true love baby...but nobody wanted me. Maybe that's why my first foster family gave me back when I was three. I had done something unnatural and they were expecting their first child. A normal child," she said mournfully. Stepping up to her side, Rumpel massaged her tense shoulders. His lips nuzzled a particularly sweet spot under her jaw.

He didn't have to say anything for her to decipher what he was thinking. This was where she belonged. She had a beautiful home, her family, plenty of healthy, strong children.

"So what do we do about Isabelle?" Emma asked. Beyond the window, in the garden, she heard the shrill bubble of laughter from one of the twins. Currently Belle, Henry, Grace, and Bae were keeping them preoccupied.

What would it mean if Isabelle displayed episodes of magic without realizing what she was doing? What if she ended up hurting her sister, her parents, or even herself?

Rumpel's hands slowed in kneading the space between Emma's shoulders as he awaited Jefferson's response.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," he said, waving it away with his hand. "I'm not saying it'll be a breeze, but you two can handle it. After all, she's being raised by the savior and a man that's got it in good with death enough to cheat it several times over."

If she didn't know any better, she'd say she detected a hint of jealousy coming from Jefferson. She was about to mention the scar around his neck, his own near-death experience, but that was something else Jefferson didn't want to talk about.

"Relax, sweetheart," Rumpel said in the shell of her ear. It sounded faint, more like he was trying to convince himself. "It's not like she'll be dropping a house on her sister or lifting this one into the sky. She can't do that, right?"

He checked with Jefferson over her shoulder. Jefferson, who was tossing back the remaining tea in his cup like it was a shot of whiskey. What did Rumpel put in that stuff? Over a year married and he still won't let me in on the secret ingredient.

"Not that I'm aware of," he said, shrugging. Perfectly calm, as if they had inquired whether there would be rain this afternoon. It didn't inspire much confidence. "I can assure you that she isn't about to cast some evil, heart-ripping curse. Maybe you'll wake up one morning with a bad case of acne or the walls splattered with polka-dots. No big deal."

Emma glanced at Rumpel from the corner of her eye. Already he was patting his face in case any ugly red splotches decided to crop up. After being the Dark One for centuries, supposedly with scales, he treated his skin better than any woman.

What about the frost? She wondered, recalling the fine white layer of ice on Mary's hand. I have a feeling winter is coming sooner than we expected. We'll wake up to a winter wonderland-inside the castle.

"What about Mary?" She asked instead. "Is it just one twin with magic? Or both?" As far as Emma could tell, only Isabelle showed signs of magic. Jefferson set his empty teacup on the table and ran his tongue over his gums to savor the taste of the tea.

"How should I know? There isn't exactly a professional test for this kind of thing. Magic is sneakier than a virus. For all I know, it could be dormant inside Mary until she's older. Keep an eye on your kids. Believe it or not, I have faith in your parenting abilities."

Emma felt a wave of warmth spread through her chest in light of Jefferson's compliment. She didn't know whether she'd consider herself a "good" parent yet, but she could not deny that she put her heart and soul into it. Rumpel simply snorted. He must still be bothered about the chair.

After this, she wouldn't be surprised if he embroidered his name into it, for the purpose of eternal dibs.

Jefferson rose from the chair, allowing Rumpel to relax. Together, the three of them went out to the gardens. This was the place where she married her husband a second time, to officially become the wife of Rumpelstiltskin. For a moment, a pleasant smile spread over her face as she remembered it, joined with the sensation of her husband's palm on her back.

In the center of the garden, among the roses, Belle, Bae, Grace, and Henry occupied a stone bench. They took turns holding the twins and making funny faces to amuse them. Belle cradled Isabelle in her arms, who kept reaching for the golden teardrop necklace that hung from Belle's neck. Henry spoke softly to Mary before letting Bae hold her. Grace whispered something to Henry and he blushed.

It was too wonderful a sight to disturb, so the three of them watched from a distance for a few more seconds. A startling thought popped into Emma's head and she nudged Jefferson in the ribs.

"Belle seems to be pretty good with kids," she hinted. He replied with a barely audible m-hm, his focus trained on his wife. Jefferson and Belle had gotten married not too long ago and appeared to be stuck in the honeymoon phase. "So, are you thinking of having any?"

She had never seen Jefferson turn beat-red so fast.

"Any what?" She gave him a stony look. Puppies, she thought sarcastically. The only abundance of puppies in this world would come from Goldie and Pongo. Luckily, it was Archie's weekend with the dogs.

"I think what my wife is implying," Rumpel said stiffly, his gaze burning holes into the ground, "is that you and Belle have plans to pop out a child in the future." It was then that she noticed Rumpel was red above the collar. It probably wasn't easy for him to consider his old flame having children with one of his old friends.

Oops.

"Um...well...I...we haven't exactly..." Jefferson stuttered, his mind jumbled by too many personal thoughts.

Isabelle took it upon herself to interrupt their awkward moment with a sharp cry. It was one of her angry, red-faced cries, which meant she was either hungry or needed to have her diaper changed. Belle lifted Isabelle and her nose scrunched when she caught a whiff of Isabelle's odor.

"Um..." Belle looked up at Emma and held the back of her hand to her nose. "I think someone needs to be changed."

Isabelle's cries grew more insistent every minute as Emma crossed the garden to pick her up. Out of nowhere, the skies opened up and rain poured down over their heads, soaking them to the bone. Only Jefferson tilted his head back and spread his arms to embrace the downpour.

"I told you so," he said.

...

In the following week, Emma and Rumpel made a trip to Snow and Charming's castle. The children accompanied them, with Henry's face pressed to the window as they rode through the forest. Thankfully, Isabelle hadn't shown many signs of magic since the day it rained. Rumpel theorized that it must come and go depending on the strength of her emotions.

In any case, Emma was due for a mother-daughter talk.

Along the way, Emma met some of the people she once knew in Storybrooke. They greeted her warmly, but their living conditions were often anything but desolate.

In some parts of the land, ogres ran amok, bringing destruction in their wake. They had roamed this land freely after the curse swept everyone away and did not like being pushed back. Whole sections of earth had been uprooted, newly built houses were crushed, lives were lost. According to Rumpel, they might be on the brink of another Ogre War if it didn't stop.

It tore Emma's heart out of her chest to witness so many people suffering while her family was cozy and safe in the Dark Castle. She even offered them a place in the castle if they wanted it. Rumpel wasn't fond of turning the castle into an inn, but one look from Emma made him swallow his protests.

"Can't we play a game of Marco-Polo and lure the ogres off a cliff?" Emma asked, worn and bitter from the ruin she witnessed. She had done all she could with magic to repair the houses that were destroyed, but it didn't make up for the families torn apart. Beside her in the carriage, Rumpel bobbed Mary in his arms and tossed her an amused look.

"Be sure to mention that plan the next time someone in the Enchanted Forest calls a meeting," he mumbled, just loud enough for her to hear. Emma tilted back Isabelle's bottle, much to her dismay, and sent her husband a dark glare. Henry and Bae's eyes flickered back and forth between their parents, wondering what would happen. "I was supporting you. Honest. I'll even offer myself up as the bait. Apple in my mouth and all."

At least he's smart enough to know when he's in trouble.

Isabelle was growing restless and on the verge of crying, so Emma placed the bottle to her mouth again. Magic always happened when she cried. Cramped in this carriage, they'd probably get swept off to Wonderland.

"So, Papa, I take it that if you wrote a handbook on good husbandry, your first advice would be to get used to saying yes, dear?" Bae teased, seated across from his father. Emma watched Rumpel carefully. And he knew she was watching.

"Grown or not, I can still make you walk," Rumpel warned. Everyone in the carriage knew it was an empty threat, but Emma reflected on how close they were to the castle. A few more minutes, maybe less. "To answer your question, yes, that would be a useful lesson to learn. Wives can make your life heavenly or miserable. Men may believe they hold the power in the household, but the women are not to be underestimated. Another lesson: your mother knows best."

Emma felt a pinch of sadness for Rumpel, who supposedly never knew his mother. To hear him tell it, his father always claimed that Rumpel's mother died bringing him into the world. It was futile to blame himself for it, but she knew Rumpel felt a little guilty for being part of the reason why he would never meet his mother.

She reached out and patted Rumpel on the knee, to show she understood how he felt about it. To show he wasn't alone. Shifting the baby into his other arm, he placed his hand over hers, trapping it there on his knee. I understand, his gentle caress told her.

The carriage hit a bump and jostled, making everyone bounce out of their seats. Mary started to wail. Rumpel let go of Emma's hand in favor of brushing his knuckle over Mary's button nose and cooing softly to her: Shh, Sunshine, your Papa's here. You're safe in my arms.

In no time at all, Mary had stopped crying, rocking peacefully in Rumpel's arms.

When they finally reached the castle, the gray, ravaged land transformed into something beautiful. The sky was clear and blue, unmarred by even a single cloud, dark or otherwise. As the carriage crossed the long bridge, the castle soared high into the sky, a marvelous golden structure sitting comfortably on the water.

In one of the balconies, Emma thought she saw her mother, clad in a white gown. A second later, she disappeared, no doubt running as fast as her legs could carry her in order to welcome them.

Emma was the first out of the carriage. With the baby still tucked in the crook of her arm, she stretched one arm at a time above her head and then stretched her legs. It was so good to have fresh air and freedom to move. A deep moan issued from her throat as her muscles uncoiled.

"Now if only you moaned that way when we're alone," Rumpel whispered in her ear, so no one else would be able to hear.

For that dirty remark, she punched him in the chest. Not too hard, just enough for him to get the message. There were young children in earshot, after all, and they were more observant than Rumpel gave them credit for. She thought about promising him that she would make their alone time special, if only to prove him wrong, but of course that would be playing right into his hands. That smirk said it all.

The doors of the castle opened wide. Both Snow and Charming emerged into the sunlight to greet them. Emma took turns hugging her parents before they moved on to the twins, Henry, Bae, and finally Rumpel.

Her parents and her husband exchanged respectful nods. They were on good terms, but they still had their boundaries. No hugs, no slaps on the back, no fist bumps, nothing of the sort.

"Good news, Henry. Today you'll get to hold a real sword," Charming announced, gesturing to the sword that was sheathed on his hip. While Henry's eyes flew open in excitement, Emma, Rumpel, and Bae darted forward to object.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Emma cried out, holding out her hand to command her father to stop this nonsense. Holding a sword was one thing, but what if Henry used that sword? "He's only eleven years old."

"Almost twelve, Mom," Henry said under his breath. No one listened.

"Emma's right. The kid has more chance of poking someone's eye out than playing fair," Bae added. Don't encourage him, he meant. Mischief tended to run in the family. Rumpel used the tip of his cane to prod Charming's chest.

"This is why Snow doesn't let you plan the family picnics," he said. Charming treated the cane as dramatically as a loaded gun, raising his hands in the air. Rumpel didn't have magic, but all he really needed was that cane.

"All I mean to do is train Henry to be the knight he's always dreamed of. He needs to know how it feels to wield a real sword. Not just holding it, but learning how to handle it. I plan to keep my eye on him at all times."

Under the pressure of Charming's hand, Rumpel let the cane drop. He glanced at Emma, his face carved of stone, demanding her input. Snow did not appear very conflicted and Henry was so eager to be a knight...

"Fine," she agreed, taking Rumpel by surprise. "But watch him carefully."

Charming nodded and then stepped past them, urging Henry to follow him along the bridge. They were headed for the forest. If it's trees he plans on attacking, I hope he at least yells timber.

"Don't worry, dear," Rumpel said, handing over Mary. Emma did a baby switch-off, passing Isabelle to Snow. "I'll supervise."

Before she could taunt him about not trusting Charming, he hobbled off down the bridge. Bae decided to follow suit, probably to make sure Rumpel didn't do anything stupid around Charming. Somehow, Charming tended to bring out Rumpel's jealous side.

"Here-why don't we take the children inside? I have something to show you."

Snow led her inside the castle, which was much cooler in temperature. Emma had only been inside her parents' castle a few times, but she never took the grand tour. Usually they would enjoy their company in the dining hall or outside with the sun beating down on their heads.

Now Snow mounted an unfamiliar set of stairs, all the while humming softly to the baby in her arms. It came naturally to her and Emma couldn't help but imagine how lucky she would have been as a child to have a mother like her. Someone who comforted her through all the downs in her life, who lulled her to sleep with a song and a promise of protection, who never neglected to tell her how important she was to the balance of her mother's world.

Snow stopped in front of a door at the end of one long hallway. The door was slightly ajar. She leaned against it, pushing it open. Emma's stomach sank and then rose again with clouds of butterflies.

This was her room. Or rather, it would have been her room, had she spent more than one night in this land.

It wasn't as big as the bedroom she shared with her husband, but that may have been because of the objects that filled it. There was a crib in the center and Emma could almost picture the glass unicorn mobile that once hung above it. The shelves were crowded with stuffed animals, blankets, and baby supplies. The floor was golden, the ceiling and curtains midnight blue. The balcony had an excellent view of the bridge and the forest. As she stepped into the warm breeze, Emma realized this was where her mother had been standing when they arrived at the castle.

"This was going to be your room," Snow said, looking around the room fondly. Emma did not miss the sadness that infected her mother's voice. "This was where you would have taken your first steps, said your first words. This was where I was going to teach you to walk, talk, dress for your first ball..."

Snow's voice trailed away as she dove into the memories that would never be. Her finger brushed Isabelle's rosy cheek and Emma wondered if Snow saw that wriggling, pink newborn again.

"If you ever babysit the twins, you could put this room to good use," Emma suggested, trying to cheer up her mother. Snow smiled weakly.

"Maybe," she mumbled half-heartedly. She seemed distracted by another thought, her brow wrinkling. "Your husband is so good with the children."

Emma smiled when she thought of how Rumpel often took the twins out of her hands to give her a break, how he took turns getting up during the night when one of them cried out, how he promised them the entire world. She thought about how he mended his relationship with Bae and took Henry in as his own son.

"Yeah, he is. He's more patient and open with them than anyone could believe. Fiercely protective. He keeps telling me he doesn't want to repeat the mistakes he made."

"Everyone makes mistakes. What matters is whether you learn from them," Snow replied in what Emma had come to recognize as her motherly tone. She spotted an antique wardrobe in the corner and wandered to it.

Completely hand-carved, with intricate dark swirls decorating both doors. When Emma ran her fingers over one door, she sensed the old magic that used to possess it. This must be the wardrobe her parents used to send her to the real world, so that she could fulfill her destiny as the savior.

"Do you think it was a mistake? Letting me go?" Her voice trembled when she spoke and she did not search for her mother's expression, too afraid yet to witness the hurt and regret brought on by such an inquiry. She heard it when Snow drew a ragged breath.

"We did what we had to do...to save you and to undo the curse. That doesn't mean I don't regret all the years and experiences we missed with you. Our only other option was to face Regina's curse together. The curse would never have broken and you would not be with us. Charming would be stuck in his coma, I would be a lonely nun the rest of my life, and Regina would have killed you or given you to parents that were not your own. It was an impossible decision to make and it broke my heart to make it, but you were our only hope, Emma."

She knew that everything Snow said was true. If they had succumbed to the curse together, they would have been torn apart. Time would be frozen and she would be a newborn baby until...when? Until Regina got bored and wiped them out one by one?

It didn't stop the hurt from nibbling away at her heart. This was why she never found much use in lingering over what might have been.

Snow kept smiling down at Isabelle in her arms. From the right angle, Emma thought she glimpsed a tear welling up in the corner of Snow's eye.

"I want another chance," she whispered, more to herself than the baby or even Emma. "I see how happy you are...I...I want another child."

Snow closed her eyes, almost in shame. The revelation hung heavily between them, even though this wasn't the first time Emma heard something of the sort from her mother. Before, Snow had merely expressed a fleeting interest in the idea of what if. Now it was something she sincerely wanted to be true.

"So have one," Emma told her rather calmly. If her parents wanted a second child, it wouldn't be fair of her to stand in their way. It was a missed opportunity that they wanted; she saw it in their eyes whenever they saw how she handled Mary, Isabelle, and Henry. Snow simply shook her head.

"You say that, but I don't know if you really mean it. This will change everything. The last thing I ever want is for you to feel forgotten or shoved into second place. Nothing could be further from the truth."

Emma heard this before, too. Both her parents were searching for that second chance of happiness, but were also afraid that Emma would feel she was being replaced. That she would be resentful of the fact that a child was having everything she missed out on.

"Relax. I gave it a lot of thought lately. Rumpel says this is the time for peace and happiness, not regret. So, if having another child will make you two happy, then I say go for it," Emma reassured her mother, even reaching out to squeeze her hand. Snow tilted her head thoughtfully.

"You don't agree with Rumpelstiltskin?"

Emma bit down on the inside of her cheek. She faced the window and stared out at the forest without seeing it, thinking instead of the ogres that infested the land. A shiver skated down her neck-something was bound to go wrong.

"You have that look in your eye," Snow added. "The same one Charming said I had after our second wedding, when Regina threatened the land with her curse. You're waiting for the worst to happen."

Emma curled her baby tighter in her arms, closer to her heart, as though shielding her from the world and its dangers.

"I just have this terrible feeling...it's not over yet."

...

She stood in the center of the floor and stared down at it intently from underneath the hood of an emerald cloak. Dozens of deep red curls spiraled out from under the hood, framing a hard, pale, unpleasant face. The floor was much more than a floor-it was a looking glass that allowed her to peer into other worlds and other lives.

So long ago, from a weasly man that once hid behind a curtain, she had learned the truth of her birth and the existence of her little sister, all by the power of this majestic looking glass. It became something of an obsession for her to visit this place and to look into that glass time and again, to feel the blood boil in her veins when she was harshly reminded of the bane of her existence.

At the moment, her face was pinched with revulsion, which wasn't all that uncommon. In the looking glass, hazy images of her former mentor taunted her endlessly, causing a sneer to curl her ruby lips.

She had been more powerful than her sister, had so much potential...but then he'd rejected her and chosen her weakling of a sister to cast his curse. It was a great power that her sister didn't even know what to do with. In fact, she had the indecency to take it for granted! While she was pushed aside like a worthless, unwanted creature. All because she had been foolish enough to fall in love with him.

That power was meant to be mine.

It disgusted her now to see him so human, stripped of all his magic, yet so happy. Reunited with his long-lost son, having reclaimed his precious Dark Castle, and now a couple of bratty kids tagged along. She never thought he was the type to settle down with a brood of children.

Then there was her. His wife. His tacky, holier-than-thou, aren't-I-such-a-badass wife. She loathed the way they exchanged secret glances, the way they touched and kissed. Why would he choose her for a wife? What was so special about this one? Was it only for the purpose of warming his bed and breeding his children? Must be.

Even with that small comfort in mind, however false it may be, she could feel the envy darkening her heart.

She hated her. If his little wife was standing here in front of her, she would not hesitate to rip out her heart and squeeze it until she begged on her knees for the sweet slumber of death. Serves her right. So naive, so much like my sister. She doesn't even know what she's got in the palm of her hand.

One of their babies was special, she could tell. It possessed incredible power, though she was willing to bet nowhere near her strength. When she was a baby, she produced a tornado that swept her away to Oz. This child simply had a knack for creating frost and rain.

Still...

She thirsted for revenge. Craved it more than any other substance meant to keep her alive. For years on end she had watched Rumpelstiltskin through this glass, waiting for an opportunity to exact her revenge. He was part of the reason everything had gone wrong in her life.

If she managed to get her hands on that baby, on that power, took the child under her wing...how satisfying would that be? Turning a child against its father?

You took away something dear to me, now I shall return the favor.

She could do it. He was no longer the Dark One; he no longer had magic to defend himself or his castle. It would be cakewalk to infiltrate the Dark Castle and take away one of the things he loved most. Maybe she would even make him watch.

It was tempting and she was never good at denying her impulses.

Ready or not, dearie, Zelena thought snidely. With a flick of the wrist, the revolting images faded from the floor. Here I come.