The castle's halls reflected the eerie purple light of it's ensconced candles and equaled the wickedness of it's exterior. Emma had feared the dark of the camp might follow but past the portcullis the shadows had abandoned their pursuit. It was only by Phillip's effort that she had made the gate; in the dark something had come for them, tearing them from one another and knocking Emma on her back. A blow had come down on her stomach, denting her armor so she could feel where the metal brushed her navel. Her instincts screamed to raise her sword and by dumb luck she blocked the second strike inches above her face. Her attacker could not have been more than a foot away but the sky was moonless and not even a silhouette appeared to help her. From the camp she heard men shouting, but there was no clanging of steel.

The thing was shoved off of her. Phillip had regained his footing and seized her by her arm, tugging her to her feet. There was the whisper of his sword being drawn, "Run."

He shoved her in the direction of the castle's entrance.

"No, I'm staying."

He grunted in the dark as if something had struck him and his next order sounded winded, "Emma, you have to get to the Queen."

Again a hand shoved her through the darkness and stumbling back she felt the stone corner of the gate.

"Go!"

She had found the Queen on her throne, a pretty woman in a satin dress, forcing her to kneel. The rage at being subjugated had ripped a retaliatory swing from her diminished strength but her sword had struck nothing but empty air and the Queen stood a few feet up her steps, smirking as if she'd never been any closer. This parable of villainy with which parents threatened their children's misbehavior was not what she had pictured. There had been stories that she was a hag or that her skin was scaled and rotted off, this woman was younger than she'd thought with thick, dark eyelashes and red lips. Still, she knew better than to believe that was the sum of her- it had taken more than speed to recoil so far so fast and for an unarmed woman in a ruined room she seemed to think herself invincible. Lifting up onto her feet Emma kept her sword between them. It was heavier than she would have thought; the entire spectacle of armament had exhausted her. Two days in full-plate, only allowing herself consideration of removing bits of it to use the bathroom and even then the helm had been non-negotiable. Had any of the other men caught sight of her it would have meant discovery or worse. When Phillip had spoken to her she'd barely been able to stand. Whatever it was that had attacked the camp had provided her with enough adrenaline to reach the throne room but now her hands shook.

"You're not human."

The Queen faked a look of pain.

"You wound me," and then casting a look at her trembling sword she chuckled, "Though I suppose not. Tell me, is the traitor sending little girls to do her work now? As if her idiot husband weren't bad enough."

"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about and I'm not answering any questions until you give Phillip back."

"I don't have a Phillip, are you entirely sure you're storming the correct castle?"

The adrenaline was wearing; she could feel sweat dripping down the lower part of her back and across her brow, it stung her eyes.

"We were attacked outside your gates, the fires went out."

The look of amusement that had thus far possessed the Queen dissipated. She pursed her lips and let drop an inch of tension, Emma had apparently imparted her with some knowledge that factored greatly into her mood and when she spoke again her tone had dropped into rough impatience.

"I'm afraid I can't take credit for that."

"But I'll be more than happy to."

From behind one of the pillars that flanked the throne came a singsong voice that urged her to rethink the positioning of her sword and the giggle that followed turned her sweat cold. Surrounded on both sides and barely keeping her footing she could only spare the strength to look over her shoulder. The man that had emerged was short and impish with a browned smile and what looked like scales alongside the skin of his face. Despite his monstrous presentation of his face he dressed extravagantly in leathers that came from no beast she could place.

"Who's he?"

"I'm in the room dearie, I can hear you."

His sentences ended with a taunting upward snap, the Queen had no intention of humoring her.

"What do you need someone to translate it into idiot? Ask him yourself."

"Fine, who are you?"

The Imp grinned gleefully, "I don't think I'm going to tell you. Of course, it's not as if it matters. I'm not here for you."

The Imp trotted past her and towards the throne, approaching the Queen who had considerable distaste for whatever was taking place.

"What do you want?"

"Well, what I'm owed of course."

Beginning to feel like an outsider in the proceedings Emma took a step forward, forcing her sword closer to their conversation though neither seemed bothered by her, "You're not taking her anywhere."

This candor earned his attention, he looked away from the Queen to smile at her with a small, amused mewl. For a moment he appeared to be thinking and then, losing interest, he returned to his business.

"I've come to collect, the timing seemed," he paused for effect, "appropriate."

Not appreciating his decision to ignore her Emma thrust the tip of her blade up under the Imp's chin catching him, at least in slight, off guard.

"I said she's not going anywhere; unless it's with me."

He humored the blade for a moment, staring down to where she held it.

"You might learn to watch your enthusiasm in powerful company dearie, before it gets you into the same trouble it got your little friends."

Emma shifted the position of her arm, meaning it as a threat, "Where's Phillip?"

He giggled wickedly, "In the dark."

For all the intimidation she could muster she had no will to harm him, which he seemed to know seeing as he spoke like a man without a sword at his throat.

"Bring him back."

The Imp hummed as if considering it for a moment and then barked a quick, "No."

With a swat he warded the sword away, "Or at least, not for free. You want them back? Fine. Leave me the Queen."

"What?"

"I give you back the men you traveled with but I keep her."

Almost delicately he extended an index finger in the direction of the Queen, who stood still slightly above them on the steps that lead to her throne, looking to be in an unpleasant mood. It was a trap of a deal, taking Phillip and his men only so he could offer them back and in doing so take the prisoner she came for. At least she knew now that they could be returned.

"You go back to whoever it was that sent you and tell them she wasn't home."

"What does she owe you?"

There was no point in aiming her sword any longer being that none in present company feared it enough for it to make an effective offense. Here the Queen finally interjected, "That's none of your business."

He ignored her, "Our majesty owes me an errand, she just needs to fetch something for me. A tiny favor."

"What exactly is she supposed to fetch?"

Licking his lips for a moment in delightful preparation, he answered, "The Holy Grail."

The Queen's expression soured.

Emma had heard tales of the Holy Grail, first in the mouths of the nuns that'd taught her how to read and once she'd learned she'd found it in the books they kept. It's origin's had never interested her so much as it's effects, a source of immortality and grace eternally sought by it's believers. The entire thing had seemed fanciful to her but she guessed she was in the company of the sorts of people who might be interested in it. That didn't change that finding it was a metaphor for the impossible if it was real at all, which she doubted. It was the kind of tale knights made up in search of glory, like the parents of misbehaving children and their version of The Evil Queen.

"It isn't real."

"That doesn't matter, what matters is: she owes it to me."

"So she owes you something that doesn't exist."

"It exists."

The pair of them looked to the Queen.

"I assure you, it's the retrieving it that's proven difficult."

"Well, now's the time Dearie, as you know, breaking a deal with me can be," He hummed as he selected the next word, "Unpleasant."

His threats fell on uninterested ears; she looked far more bored than she did frightened, "Well, seeing as it's not hidden in the cell I'm to occupy getting it for you has just become complicated."

"A cell? How original."

"Yes, the girl in the ill-fitting armor is here on the conditions of my defeat. I'm to be taken to the castle and executed which puts you and your Grail low on my priority list."

"And you think my showing up now was what? A coincidence? I plan to collect before you, let's say, lose your head."

Here he drew his finger across his throat in a colorful demonstration of her fate.

"I told you-"

"She's not going anywhere, unless, as you said, it's with you. Which is precisely why you're going to accompany her."

The pair of them turned on him and in unison said, "What?"

He delighted in the confusion.

"Being that we all want something: you go with her, as you seem to so desperately want to. You assist her in finding the Grail, which as she claims, exists. Once I have the Grail, I'll return your men and being that her debt is settled she's of no use to me. I get the Grail, you get the Queen, and you," He directed his last statement to the Queen, "Get to lose that head you like so much."

"Wonderful, I can' possibly think of a reason I'd disagree."

"Or, if you prefer," He stuck his index finger in the air to add punctuation to the forthcoming addendum, "I could just kill you both now."

"I'd like to see you try."

It was the Queen who spoke, but she voiced Emma's sentiments precisely.

"Would you?"

As the only armed person in a room of three people Emma felt she might have been the least prepared for combat, whatever grudge existed between these two strangers was deep as blood. Both looked nearly about to rip the others throat out and all she could do was look between them, prepared to lift her useless swords if manners began to escalate.

But they didn't, though she was snarling the Queen relented, turning to Emma, "And what do you think about all this?"

"I think I don't have much of a choice."

The Imp looked pleased, not the gleeful mad kind of amusement he'd expressed before but the look of a man who had accomplished what it was he'd wanted. It was a dangerous look and Emma hoped not to see it again for a long while knowing that anything he saw as an accomplishment would not end well.

"Smart girl."

His business complete the Imp bounced down the steps pausing on the last to look up at the pair of them, "But something's missing."

Behind her the Queen put her hands on her hips, not entertained by his antics. He looked between them, trying to identify exactly what it was he'd thought to add and after a moment his face split into a grin.

"That will do it."

At first she failed to understand his meaning but after a moment Emma realized the feeling of lightness, the cumbersome armor seemed to have lifted and looking down to confirm this she realized it had not disappeared but changed completely. The chest plate, dented in the dark as she'd made her way away from the encampment was new, shiny and lighter The pieces she'd stolen, unfitted to her form had been replaced by pauldrons that sat her shoulders as if they were forged for her and sabatons that left no space for her feet to rattle around. Even the sword she held had been remade, narrowed and sharpened and made wicked. The handle was rewrapped in soft leather for cushion and the pommel and guard were gold. The detail on the armor's front had been elaborately embossed; a swan took flight over a battlefield. It was a suit of mail she might have worn whilst she was dreaming.

The Imp nodded, pleased with his work, "A queen needs a knight, don't you think?"

Taking the opportunity to look down at her new armor was time enough for the man, if he was a man, to escape. He'd vanished from where he'd stood before.

"Who was that?"

"A necessary evil, though he's not who you should be worrying about."

The queen made a claw of her hand as if to summon evil and Emma, anticipating danger, raised her sword to defend herself. It seemed lighter than before or perhaps she had become stronger and it imbued her with enough confidence to stand her ground but nothing happened. The Queen repeated the gesture without any further success, her face was contorted by confusion, "What?"

Emma kept her sword raised, not intending to lower it until she had some sort of understanding of what was going on. Resigned the Queen clutched her hand into a fist, "The armor. That insufferable imp."

"What about the armor?"

"He enchanted it."

"Of course, enchanted armor to get the Holy Grail. You're insane."

"Excuse me?"

"It's fine, you can fly and eat children for all I care I just need you to come with me."

"I'm afraid it's not going to be that simple."

"You have horses right?"

The Queen looked confused for a moment, "Yes, I have horses but that's not the problem. The problem is the retrieval of the Holy Grail."

"You know where it is?"

"I know how to find it."

"Good, see? Simple. Do you think we could maybe leave tomorrow? After eating?"

"I-"

"Not like a feast or anything I just haven't eaten all day."

"So you're going to break into my home, eat my food and take me prisoner?"

"Look, I'm tired and there's only one way we're both getting what we need so I'll help you find the Grail, you help me get Phillip back."

The Queen sneered.

"Of course, and then to celebrate you take me back to your king and queen and cut off my head. Sounds like a wonderful trip."

"I don't now anything about that but once we don't come back they'll send more knights, if you help get Phillip back maybe they'll show you mercy."

"Mercy? Who exactly do you think you're talking to?"

This was becoming exhausting, if she had wanted to argue with a brick wall she would have stayed at home and had conversations with her mother about being allowed to leave the castle. All the fuss they'd put into her safety now seemed excessive, had a contentious woman with a grudge been all it'd taken for them to ship her off to god-knows-where?

"There's two ways this can happen, the pair of us stay in this big empty castle until someone else shows up to take you prisoner. Or, we try to find your magic cup and return having rescued a foreign prince which sounds to me like a much better argument for you keeping your life."

This was making more sense than her negotiations normally tended to, her genetics had neglected to imbue her with the manipulative wiles of a lady at court and those times when she'd had to talk herself out of situations most of the conversation had been monopolized by her fists and a hot poker. Now that she was wielding an appropriate sword the feel of it seemed natural. The Imp might have used the word 'knight' to mock her and it was true that claiming it for herself was ridiculous: she had no formal training in swordsmanship, could only just ride a horse with any success and had never won a joust in her life.

Still, it was a word she wanted. It sounded, to her, much better than 'princess.'

"Well, what's your answer 'your majesty'?"

There weren't any servants left, though Emma didn't know if there had ever been any. Many parts of the castle seemed to have never been touched while others lay completely in ruins. Rooms that hadn't succumbed to some form of destruction were mostly those with furniture draped in canvas; from the hall they had looked filled with ghosts. She'd been allowed to select food from the pantries and given a bed in the servants' quarters, which seemed luxurious after the nights spent on the ground. The chamber must have been underground; the stones were cold and tended towards the same purple glow that permeated the halls. From the bed she'd chosen she thought she heard the babbling of water but the only entrance was the stairway that she'd been sent down. It wasn't dripping, but the sound of a stream and besides that nothing, the castle was silent. As soon as she was sure she was by herself she unstrapped her plate at the side. The feeling of air blowing through the stitching in her tunic made her want to collapse in sleep but she worked through the process of removing the remainder of her armor, admiring each piece before laying it with the rest of its set on one of the unoccupied beds. She could use a bath but she knew that was an unrealistic stretch of the Queen's hospitality and even if she'd allow it there was no one present to draw water. In the morning maybe she'd ask about the underground brook and if it was water enough to at least get herself clean before setting off again. Her armor one bed away she kept her sword in hand. It was sharp, even just touching it seemed ill advised and the craftsmanship of the pommel was unlike anything she'd ever seen. That night she slept with her arm hanging off the side of her bed, fingers gripping the sword's handle.

By the time she'd found her way out of the servant's quarters the next morning the sun was up, it'd been hard to tell from anywhere but the main floor as nothing below even hinted at the presence of light. The ease of the new armor had granted her the welcome ability of dressing herself though she rather wished she didn't have to. Though lighter than her previous plate it was still an outfit comprised of metal and just about anything was more comfortable. Still, she remembered the Queen's confusion the day prior and while she didn't believe in enchantments at the very least she thought it was better to be protected until they settled into their arrangement of companionship. If that ever happened.

The Queen had taken no such precautions, in fact it seemed that she had chosen her outfit in hopes of drawing attention to herself. Her coat was red with sharp shoulders and fabric that reached her ankles, a necklace of webbed diamonds covered her chest and the height of the feather on her hat was enough by itself to track her through the forest.

Two horses trotted at either side of her from the low building of the stables. Emma had never cared for horses; her first attempts at riding had ended with her being thrown from a packhorse and having to spend a month in bed. The horse she'd ridden down with Phillip had been small and temperless but the two the Queen now provided were among the biggest she'd seen outside of the horses in her parents' stables. The left horse was a palfrey and by the way the Queen stood beside it she guessed she would be left with it's opposite, a destrier probably sixteen hands high and all in black. It was a knight's horse and it seemed to know she was no knight.

Both horses were already saddled and packed and she had the notion that altogether the destrier and its saddle were probably worth more money than any and all possessions she'd had growing up.

"Who saddled them?"

The Queen looked up from her palfrey as if offended, "I did. Some people find more productive ways to spend time than sleeping until noon."

"You could have woken me up."

"A prisoner waking their jailer, of course."

"I'm not your jailer."

Without borrowing any attention from their conversation the Queen mounted her palfrey in a single easy motion, Emma had no doubts by then that she was a woman comfortable with riding which only gave the task before her more potential for embarrassment.

"Right, and what do you prefer I call you 'knight'? 'Ser'?"

Emma grasped either side of the saddle and jerked her leg up into the stirrup, the armor made it difficult to get the necessary flexibility out of her leg and she would have lost her balance if not for the horse.

"My name's Emma."

With a grunt she tugged on the saddle and tried to pull herself up but underestimated the weight of the armor and couldn't even begin to throw her leg over the width of the horse. With a click the Queen led her horse around to Emma's other side as if to watch her making a fool of herself.

"Well, Ser Emma, you should have a few complaints for whoever squired you if they never taught you how to mount a horse."

Emma was too frustrated with the horse problem to endure much more snark.

"I'm not a knight."

"Really? What a surprise."

The Queen's tone was flattened by sarcasm.

"Though I do hope you can actually ride a horse."

Emma didn't answer, instead she pulled again trying to heave herself up and onto the horse but she failed to get her leg up high enough and once again had to return to the ground.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure, just…give me a second."

For another minute of Emma's struggling the Queen kept her horse still before wheeling it back around, "You don't pull yourself up, you push. If you can't at least handle that this is going to be a short quest."

For all she cared the girl could fall off of her horse.

The entire scheme was ill fated, there was no way that someone unable to get in a saddle was going to be anywhere near capable enough to carry out any quest, much less the retrieval of the Grail. As far as she could tell it might have been her best-case scenario but even if the girl were to die her freedom would be fleeting. The conditions of her defeat had been clear and she hadn't run yet, to do so now seemed cowardly and besides there was the matter with Rumplestiltskin. By the time Emma, as she had introduced herself, had managed to get on her horse Regina had already started out of the gates. She had no desire to linger; the leaving of her mother's castle was difficult enough without being mocked for her attachments to it. There would be no dewy eyed trot from it's gate, she kept her head high as she left it's shadow. In her life there had been times when it was her prison but her final departure felt less like an escape and more like a transfer, there wasn't any freedom in it.

Emma was uncomfortable but adequate on horseback; no doubt she would hurt by the end of a day of riding but Regina wasn't about to go handing out pointers for the sake of her comfort. The girl was a nagging abnormality, more than just a doomed idiot though she couldn't determine exactly why. It was an attribute of unique familiarity that she couldn't place despite scrutinizing the girl's shoulders as she fumbled for a moment and nearly fell.

"So where are we going?"

"Lake Nostos."

Unable to slow her horse enough to get beside Regina, Emma had to call back over her shoulder if she wanted to converse.

"The magic lake?"

"Nice to know you're not completely ignorant."

Emma pulled the reins of her horse firmly, finally getting it to slow enough that Regina's pace brought them parallel with one another, having to watch her sit a saddle up close was almost painful. She was clueless as to how to move her body to keep in time with the horse's movement and Regina tried not to flinch at her lack of grace.

"You think someone who thinks they're as smart as you do wouldn't insult the person sent to bring them to their death so much"

"Oh, please. As if you pose any threat to me. Some peasant girl pretending she's a knight."

"Your majesty!"

A ways up the road two men on horseback wore the king and queen's colors, they approached in full-plate and despite the insults Regina had served her Emma released the reins on her horse and crossed in front of her as if to keep the men from attacking. Being called 'your majesty', though it was familiar, confused. As far as she could tell there were few in the realm that still swore that allegiance, fewer that would openly announce it on the road, and none that would do so wearing the royal colors.

"What do you want?"

Regina wasn't one to let others do the talking for her but Emma's sudden confidence in the face of these men hinted to her that something more was going on.

"Your father sent us after it was discovered that you left the castle. Where's Prince Phillip?"

Before anyone could offer an explanation to Phillip's whereabouts Regina had come to the logical conclusion.

"Your father?"

The growing growl of her tone caused Emma to turn and look at her as if she'd broken some nonexistent trust and the sudden sound of galloping gave her less than a moment to realize that soon there would be an enemy within an area of attack. One or both of the men had realized her identity and decided the princess needed protecting. In the time she had she managed to tug the reins enough to turn her horse and create space for the first of the two men to ride between Emma and herself with his sword drawn. The other stayed behind as if they thought Regina had been sneaking up on her and was only now about to attack.

"Your majesty this is the Queen."

"So I see your men are about as smart as you are. Though I don't know what you can expect from someone raised by peasants."

With a man between them Emma's frustration allowed itself articulation, "Something that would never have been a problem if not for you."

"Oh, I'm sure you would have done just as well even with your darling parents."

The guardsmen may not have been privy to particulars of the spat that was occurring but knew better than to lower their swords or interrupt royalty when they were arguing. Only when Emma didn't retort did the guard behind her speak again, "Milady, if you'll allow us to take the Queen into custody I'll make a camp for you and when Claude returns he can bring you suitable riding clothes and a palfrey."

"I'm fine to ride like this and I'm the one escorting the Queen, if it makes you feel better you can ride back and tell that to my parents."

The man looked at her as if he didn't understand, "Your majesty I have to insist, the Evil Queen is treacherous, leaving you alone with her would be a great risk to your life."

"I've been alone with her all morning, and last night."

The guard cocked his head as if questioning her meaning.

"How did Prince Phillip come to leave you in her company?"

The man's tone had taken on a lilt of suspicion. The words 'kidnapped by a magical imp' did not come easy for Emma and the opting towards something less fantastical caused her answer to come out bungled.

"He's...he's gone."

As far as Regina was concerned every word out of Emma's mouth was a convincing case against the inheritability of the kingdom, her blood fit her as ill as her first set of armor had but even still she echoed her father. Regina should have realized it the second she had picked up that golden sword.

"But the Queen is helping me to rescue them, that's why I have to take her South."

The men's suspicion had blossomed at Emma's talking about changing the course, bad enough that she wouldn't comply with dressing like a Princess. Despite the hatred Regina felt for the king and queen and by extension their offspring, she recognized a kinship in not belonging as if having known one another sooner or under different circumstances might have allowed for friendship. Things being as they were however, that wasn't likely to happen. In fact they were unlikely to know one another for more than a few minutes longer at Emma's blistering pace of miscommunication. Not to mention her plans for the Grail would go unexecuted.

"Milady, I fear your time with her may have filled your head with evil notions. We'll take her to your parents and you can rest here until we can bring you a carriage for the journey home."

"I don't have any evil notions, I'll bring her to my parents once I've helped Phillip."

"Do you mean once you've helped her?"

Emma's mouth hung open for a second unable to articulate in a short enough amount of words both his rightness and his wrongness, after a moment she closed her mouth to sort of pout as she was thinking but her silence had already done it's damage.

"She's under the thrall of the Evil Queen."

The shout came from the man behind Emma but it was the one between them who drew his sword. This escalation, despite it not being much of a shock, surprised Regina with its suddenness.

"I didn't 'enthrall' anybody."

Speaking did nothing to convince them and seconds after the sentence left her mouth the sword whistled through the air in front of her; it was only by the intuition of her mount that it missed. From behind the guard, whom she had inferred from the other was named Claude; Emma had turned to face the altercation.

"Wait! Don't hurt her."

Regina turned the horse to gallop away and in doing so lost sight of Emma, she heard the second guard trying to reason with her.

"Your majesty please, calm down, stay with me. Once we've taken care of her you're mind will be yours again."

That was all she stayed to hear as she kicked her heel into her horses flank and took off at a wicked gallop back down the road. The rumbling sound of hooves behind her let her know that Claude had given chase. After a bend the road was straight and wide and though she was the quicker rider she had doubts that she could escape him. Even if she was faster it would only end back at her castle, the confrontation was imminent. If she was far enough from Emma and her infuriating armor she thought she could use magic to protect herself and so she lowered herself skillfully, flattened against the back of the horse and spurred it on down the road as fast as it would allow. After a few seconds of hard riding she dared to peek behind her and to her surprise saw nothing. Slowing her horse she circled it once or twice looking back, the road was empty except for the towering trees on either side that bent in to canopy it. For a second she waited in silence and then the sound of hoofs. Even with her skill there was no way she'd gotten so far ahead of a trained rider on a good horse, something else had intervened and when the steed came into sight it's empty saddle proved her right. The horse passed, continuing on at speed down the road and again things were silent.

In the silence she heard freedom whisper, it called from the forest like a nymph but even as it beckoned she knew it was a trap. Eluding the king and queen's forces would take no great effort, but Rumplestiltskin would find her no matter what corner of the Earth she crawled to. At a slower pace she started back up the road, the bend blocked sight of anything further but coming around it she saw what had impeded her pursuer.

He lay on the ground, not moving. His armor wasn't crushed and as far as she could tell there was no blood, which was a pity. It was likely he was concussed especially as it was Emma who stood beside him, her hands on her knees sucking in breath as if she'd just run miles. Further down the road she saw the second man in a similar state, of the three of them, while two were unconscious Emma was the only one with visible damage. A web of blood zigzagged down from a gash on her brow and pinkened the blond hair of her eyebrow. Regina brought her horse to a halt a few feet away but didn't bother to dismount.

"You saved me?" The words came out incredulous as if her surprise was not at the fact that Emma was willing to save her but that she had been capable of unhorsing two trained swordsmen.

Still huffing Emma looked up from the man she'd bested and after a second, nodded, "Seemed like the honorable thing to do."

Not wanting to show any undue kindness Regina couldn't help but feel the slightest touch of gratitude and masked it immediately with dissatisfaction, "No doubt you've lost my horse."

"I fell off," As if to confirm this she reached for the bloody wound on her head and pulled her fingers back wet and red, "They fell harder."

"You're the princess."

Emma looked back down as if the question had further sapped her energy and after a second she replied, "Yeah, doesn't exactly suit me."

It wasn't like Regina could blame her for not disclosing such information; it only hardened a resolve to do damage but she wouldn't have agreed to any of this if she'd known. Rumplestiltskin would have gone without his cup even if it meant following through on his threats to kill her.

"And you just disabled your only protection."

Regina stated all of these facts as if fascinated by both Emma's stupidity and her luck. The revenge she had sought for so long had been presented to her and made vulnerable without her even trying.

"Right, so what happens now? You get off the horse and try to beat me up?"

Maybe not as vulnerable as she would have liked, if she had her magic the girl would be dust but Rumplestiltskin had eliminated that possibility and no doubt he'd done so on purpose. He had known the whole time. Regina gritted her teeth against her options. There were two: Ride off by herself to retrieve the Grail or continue on as was planned. The first one was the more attractive, granted the particulars would require her to eventually recruit another chump to assist in it's retrieval but it was the second that afforded her a unique opportunity. Surely if they continued to travel together a chance to kill her would present itself, she couldn't wear that armor indefinitely.

"No, we keep going."

"What?"

"Trust me, I'm not happy about it either."

With the same grace she had employed getting on the horse Regina dismounted, fearing that she meant to attack her despite her words Emma grabbed the handle of her sword and tugged at it. The blade didn't come all the way out of the sheath on the first try and she had to pull again, fumbling as she did.

Regina narrowed her eyes at her, "Calm down, we can't continue on the road. Once you're father's cronies wake up they'll no doubt return to your parents' and tell them you're under the 'thrall of the Evil Queen' as I assume you object to my killing them."

Emma returned the sword, which she hadn't gotten all the way out anyway, back to the scabbard.

"So let me get this right, the Holy Grail is real, enchanted armor is real but the idea that I'm in your thrall is ridiculous?"

"Do you feel enthralled?"

"I don't know, what does 'enthralled' feel like?"

"I don't have time or small enough words to explain this to you."

"Fine, whatever you say, Evil Queen."

Regina had begun stripping the saddle from her horse, "Regina."

"What?"

"Did you hit your head falling off that horse or can you just not hear? My name is Regina."

Not looking at her Regina unlatched the buckles on the saddle and pulled it off onto the ground.

"We'll go through the forest, we can get to the river on foot and follow it south."

Emma stood by a bit uselessly as Regina, having freed her horse of its burden, slapped it on the flank and it began a swift run down the road. For a moment she was sad to see him go, he was among the few companions she had been allowed in her time of isolation but the pain was eased by the knowledge that she would see him again, she had no doubt of that. The saddle however she would have to leave with the exception of some supplies. She removed a pack from the horse and threw it at Emma; the girl barely caught it, if they were going on this journey then she wasn't going to die of exposure in the forest.

Almost as an afterthought she pulled a handkerchief from the front pocket of her velvet riding jacket, it was black silk, one of many. She tossed it after the pack for Emma to catch, being light it floated and she had to take a step forward to get her fingers on it.

"Clean up your face."