Trails of Tradition
Chapter Three: The Heart Hopes Again
Something brushed against her cheek. It's light skittering touch foreign and alarming. Her hand brushed it away and sighed, it was only her hair. She stopped, forcing herself awake, and screamed out in shock, "What happened to my hair?"
A muffled thump announced Emma rolling off the small cot next to the window. "Unguh," she mumbled grouchily. "What's with all the yelling?" She looked up to see Snow holding her hair, which was thirteen to fifteen inches longer than it was last night. "What the hell?" Emma hissed.
"I don't know!" Snow cried. "I was just getting used to it being short!" And truthfully, it felt rather nice not to mind her hair when she was shooting.
A cough brought their attention to the door, where nearly everyone else it the cabin stood in a mix of confusion and amusement.
As Alexander took Mulan for training, Elena took the princesses to the kitchen.
"So you're saying that the Tradition made my hair grow?" Snow asked, clearly affronted. The longer she thought about the more she missed the shortness! It wasn't fair at all.
Elena nodded. "Princesses always have long, beautiful hair. It's more poetic that way."
"Why can't I just cut it?" Snow asked petulantly. "It's my hair."
"Well, you could, of course," Elena agreed with an amused smile, "but there's always a chance it will grow back...maybe even longer! Just be glad it's not ladderlocks length."
"Ladderlocks?" Emma asked.
"Ah! I believe you call them Rapunzel," Elena waved. "But when you have five hundred kingdoms with new questing age princes and heroes every year, well...not every evil witch, whose garden was broken into for out of season fruits and/or vegetables, names their ill-gotten daughter Rapunzel."
"So you call them ladderlocks?" Emma asked.
Snow asked another question, "That happens?"
"Yes and yes," Elena replied sadly. "That particular path tends to be popular for sorceresses and witches. It kills and disfigures many a prince, but that's how they get more magic. I try to keep that path out of my kingdoms, and I'm proud to say I've been rather successful."
And so, Snow grudgingly accepted her new hair, not wanting to risk it growing back longer. She did however, take a motherly peek at Emma's hair, noting that even though they had traveled through the forest and slept without bothering to comb or wash their hair, it looked pristine...and a tad more golden than usual.
Outside the cabin, a conversation of swords took precedent. The sharp clang of meeting blades echoed though the clearing. Alexander's perfect swings tested Mulan's battle-honed skills. Champion instincts flared, and respect was mutual.
Not one word would be uttered.
Back inside the cabin, the Godmother was examining the two royals with her magical perception, in this case, seeing magic. "The Tradition favors you, Snow," she informed them neutrally. "The good thing is, your path is mostly complete. Emma on the other hand..."
Snow's hand clenched. "What? Hasn't she done enough?" She didn't really know what would come next, but so far all this Tradition talk had put up bad stories. Awful tales filled with danger and hardship. Suffering! Not Emma! Not when she could remember now.
The princess in question frowned slightly, unsure what to feel at that.
"Emma...well I'm not too sure where your path will lead," Elena sighed, picking up her toddler. "You see the Tradition seems to be all around you, but aside from this Quest, I can't see it actually doing anything to you." Celeste played with some of her mother's hair, blissfully ignoring the conversation around her. "It would help if I knew your story," the Godmother decided.
Now that made Emma not-okay. She was fine with the magic thing. She actually liked the talking owl...but her past! No. Way.
Seeing her daughter close herself off nearly shattered her. Snow didn't like her past much either, but she had gotten her happy ending...sort of, and Snow could look back and say that her life wasn't terrible.
Snow suffered, but she gained friends and allies and True Love! Emma, Emma had that too, she just - it just wasn't hers. Not anymore.
And it hurt her. It hurt her because it hurt Emma.
And maybe she needed to share her tale, because it was Emma's too. Emma's history, and maybe she would see she was not alone.
Emma sat numbly as she listened to Mary - no. Snow. As she listened to Snow recount her life. She learned a lot about herself and her mother. Apparently a life of thievery and running was hereditary - not that Mary Mar - Snow needed to know that.
There were lots of things that she had forgotten. Surely Henry had told her all this a long time ago...Henry...she hoped he was okay...
Snow had gotten to the part of her birth. They day the curse was cast, and wow she could not even think of what it had been like without at least a uh...what did they call it? Oh! Midwife...
And then...and then Emma really understood.
Because their only choice was Emma alone in a strange world or Emma dead. Or maybe even something worse.
Who knows what Regina would have done? Sure she raised Henry and loved him, but that was after 17-18 years or so of loneliness...you know, after she got bored with everyone's suffering... And, even after all that she hurt him. What would she have done to Emma? When she wasn't so desperate? When Regina was filled with the high of her victory and the pain of her sacrifice?
And the decision agonized Snow. So much that even now, she could feel the waves of guilt rolling off her mother.
Emma reached over and squeezed her hand.
Yeah. It would be okay...but she was not telling them about Neal...and probably not too much of the thief stuff either...
Elena took it all in and sighed. Whatever the Dark One had done definitely screwed up Emma's path, not to mention her life. "I guess it's exactly like my story. You were meant to find love around here somewhere, but all your potential candidates are too old or too young...probably both. The Tradition is against a great age disparity...at least physically...I think Godmother Lily and her husband are a few hundred years apart, but they're both...and many of the Beauty Asleep paths have their princess in a preserved sleep...
"Anyway, the prince that I should have married, Tradition willing, was barely eleven to my twenty-one. As an Ella Cinders I'd be much too old to go to a ball and fall in love. Hmm yes, so I escaped my 'evil step-mother' by becoming a Godmother instead..." Elena finished with a happy smile. "I was saved and apprenticed to my kingdom's Godmother. Ambivalent as the Tradition may be, Godmothers do prefer happy endings."
Emma shared a smile with her mother.
"So what does that mean?" Emma asked.
Elena clapped her hands. "Why Godmother training, of course!"
"So she'll escape the Tradition?" Snow asked.
The Godmother's smile faltered. "No. If you lived in one of the kingdoms where the Tradition was thinnest, all I would have to do was take the magic off of you. However, the Tradition is very thick around here...it would just come back." Elena patted her daughter's head. "Not even a Godmother can escape the Tradition. We just know how to lead it to the right path." She smiled, glancing at her husband through window. "Writing new paths. That's what being a Godmother is really about."
Tawny swept through the forest, looking for her next meal. Being diurnal had messed up her diet a slight more than she liked, but food was food. And food always tasted better fresh.
She had long shed her instinctual desire to keep and protect her territory, so the her prey did not suspect her sharp talons snatching them up. In all honesty, Tawny felt cheated. The hunt was not sporting enough anymore.
She swallowed her catch without remorse, a small squirrel, probably kin of last night's meal. Taking flight once more, she set off to find something with more girth for her humans. Perhaps a rabbit?
That brown one looked rather plump...and male! Always sporting to avoid females, lest the prey all die off. She swooped down, and with a sharp snap, she took off once more. Tonight's dinner in her claws.
She dropped her catch on the window sill, careful not to tear its skin. "I'm back!" She announced cheerfully. "And I've brought something for the stew." She liked stew...or at least the past Wise Owls liked stew...well no matter, she would see for herself soon enough.
"Thank you," Elena nodded. "We were just discussing a few eccentricities of the Tradition. Specifically love in relation to Emma."
"And I said you don't have to worry, I don't plan on falling in love anytime soon," Emma huffed.
Tawny tilted her head. "All the more reason for the conversation. The Tradition has small quirks in its system that mimic true love. Those who are in the Tradition's sight tend to find love if they aren't careful." She puffed out her chest.
Elena nodded. "True love always trumps the Tradition, but true love is rather rare and requires a lot of searching. Traditional love isn't an uncontrollable force. If you truly dislike someone or are simply incompatible, the Tradition can't change that," she assured them quickly, "It simply starts the process.
"In one of my kingdoms, the Tradition is so thick that the princess - my sister-in-law actually - well, before her marriage, she would have fallen in love with anyone who rescued her...I am unsure if you would be affected in a similar way, as she was rather young and naive."
"And Emma's not," Snow stated bluntly.
"Exactly. However, the possibility exists, and for Godmothers, witches and sorceresses in particular, there are a few types that we are vulnerable to," Elena began. "The Rogue, the Cad, the Seducer and the Betrayer." Emma flinched and her breath hitched. Lucky for her no one had noticed. "Now most of these paths are rather similar, and they have absolutely nothing to do with the man's true personality. These are simply Traditional roles that can take over a relationship and turn it sour."
"What does that mean?" Snow asked.
"Well, there are people who fit the roles more naturally than others. However, most Godmothers don't fall in love to satisfy the Tradition," Elena began. "When any Witch, Godmother or Sorceress falls in love, there is a potential that the Tradition can use. It can take a perfectly nice young man and twist him to fit a role..."
She wanted the conversation to stop now. Of course, it didn't, and her emotions just seemed to get harder and harder to control. Snow took Emma's hand and unclenched it. Emma didn't notice the soft squeeze or the warmth from her mother's hand.
Tawny clicked her beak, watching Emma curiously. "Relationships are always hard work. At least that is what I have learned through my many incarnations. For mage-kin it is more so."
It didn't stop and she had to wonder, had the Tradition played a role in her life? No. The Tradition...it felt recent...everything, her past - just a coincidence. A stupid, life-ruining coincidence.
"Yes, and for us who work in magic, emotion plays a large part. A broken heart can turn the kindest person into the cruelest villain," she paused and took in Emma's ashen face and glassy eyes.
Snow was drifting between anger and worry. It had been blatantly obvious Emma had not wanted this conversation to even start, but this? Who the hell did this to her daughter and when could she shove her bow up his sorry ass!
"Emma," she called out softly.
"Y-you don't have to worry about me okay?" She forced out. "I'm well aware about the kind of people out there..." She took in a deep breath and steeled her resolve. "I'm not afraid -" she stopped herself. "It's okay. I know I'm not meant to find true love."
Her smile was watery and this was the most vulnerable Snow had ever seen her. "Nonsense," she said firmly, pulling her daughter into the fiercest hug she could muster. "You listen to me Emma Swan. You are meant to find true love! No, one day true love will find you. You'll deny it, you'll run away from it, you might even bash him in the head a time or two, but you will find true love and Tradition or not you'll be happy. Understand?"
Emma didn't cry, but she did allow herself to melt into the hug. "This never gets to Henry," she mumbled. Then as an afterthought she added, "or David."
Neither had noticed they were alone, and Emma finally told someone about her time with Neal. She talked and cried and she didn't stop until the warm embrace of her mother lulled her to sleep.
She woke from her nap to wide, wonder-filled eyes and tiny hands brushing her hair. The toddler, Celeste stared straight into her alert eyes and said, "I like you hawr."
It was the first time Emma had heard the two-year-old speak. "Thank you," she mumbled. "I like yours too." She gave the girl a small pat.
Celeste simply giggled.
Emma watched as the toddler climbed up next to her. Celeste grabbed a strand lightly and asked, "Ca' I bwaid?"
Before Storybrooke, Emma could honestly say she didn't like kids. The young, naive children that she usually saw on the street...they reminded her of what she never really had. If not for Henry, Emma would have brushed the girl off and let her cry. It would have been a good lesson, if a bit harsh...
But looking at Celeste, the girl reminded her of Henry. Eyes full of hope, seeking adventure. Curiosity sparkling with every breath. "Sure," Emma smiled. "Let me sit up first, okay?"
The girl squealed with joy.
Her hair would end up tangled in a mass of messy braids, of that Emma was sure, but instead of worrying, she let her mind wander as she allowed the two-year-old to play with her hair.
She instantly went back to Henry. He was...the best part of her, and she had no part in raising him. She wished he had, but she would never regret giving him up.
Her life had been a mess at that point in time, she couldn't have taken care of him. Even if she had the resources and stability to raise him...well she wasn't too sure she could have done a good job.
Emma didn't regret giving Henry up. She did regret that until recently, she hadn't been in his life.
Celeste's happy cheer broke her out of her thoughts.
Her hair was a mess, but she couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "I think you need practice," she teased lightly.
"Nuh-uh," Celeste pouted. "You like!"
Emma laughed and soon enough allowed herself to engage the toddler in a game of make believe. It had been a long time since she actually felt that magic of a child's innocence. A feeling so warm and forgiving that it could wash away the pains of the world for just a moment. Not even Henry could bring that feeling out of her, but spending time with the mischievous kid rated a close second.
She felt a brief shuddering pull in the air around her, Emma had no idea what it meant, but she was sure that was the Tradition. Frowning, Emma looked over her recent thoughts. Had the Tradition caused her mood swings?
No. Not really. Everything she had done today was her. All the emotions and desires she usually bottled up and shoved in the corner had wormed their way out.
If the Tradition had been involved in any way...it was probably what made her more open.
No, now that she thought about it, that hum and pull was something else entirely.
Celeste yawned, and crawled back into Emma's bed. "Night, night," she mumbled, falling asleep against the wall.
With the kid asleep, Emma began to follow the pull.
Looking back, she kind of wish there'd be a baby to spoil in the future...
She ended up in the kitchen where she found Snow and Elena prepping for dinner.
"Emma?" Snow blinked. "Did you need something?"
She shook her head. "I was just following the pull," she replied. "Any idea why the Tradition suggests I be here?"
The Godmother paused. "I could be cast in the role of the home owner. The Owl probably told you this, but staying in a supposedly empty house usually brings in the owner of the house back in a rather foul mood. Usually you'd be harassed for trespassing, and put to work to atone for some grievance your presence caused..."
"The Tradition called me down here to make dinner?" Emma deadpanned.
Elena shrugged. "If it did or not is hard to say. I'm simply offering you the most likely explanation."
Snow snorted lightly. "Well, you're allowed to help or do nothing," she threw in. "Whatever makes you feel better."
Smiling, Emma picked up a knife. Doing something always made her feel useful. She wasn't the best cook, but she had plenty of practice with prepping ingredients.
Night rolled in and Emma sat outside gazing at the brilliant stars. She had never seen so many stars, not even in Storybrooke. It was beautiful. Soft starlight dancing abound with wisps of pale purple clouds weaving through them. Beautiful and calming.
A soft shuffle caught her attention. It was Elena.
"I thought that too," she began. "When I started my training, the topic of love came up and I felt that being a Godmother was a blessing for taking me away from my awful step-mother and a curse to never find love."
"But you found it," Emma pointed out.
Elena smiled. "I turned him into an ass for nearly running me over with his horse."
Emma snorted.
"And I was playing the part of the old lady down on her luck," she added.
Emma hummed her interest. "So, what happened?"
"He learned his lesson and," Elena smiled, "about true love...your mother hit the nail on the head. I denied it, wanted to run away from it...but it worked out in the end."
"So it's a never give up hope kind of thing?"
"Not at all!" Elena grinned. "I made it happen. I took the Tradition and told it not to mess with me. I bent the path set before me to my will and made my happy ending. Alexander helped a little of course," she added playfully, "mostly by learning his lesson properly...and becoming a true Champion."
Emma turned her gaze back to the stars. "I'm not sure I want that kind of love anymore...I'm good as long as I have Henry...but hope sounds nice."
They sat there for a moment longer.
"Get some sleep, Emma," the Godmother spoke kindly. "Tomorrow we start your magic lessons."
Emma made a face. Well at least it wasn't like she was special when it came to magic or anything, right?
"Now, a Godmother's spells are usually guided by the Tradition itself. It is rather easy to allow the Tradition to put the spells to your lips and invoke what it desires," Elena paused and looked straight at Emma. "Don't," she punctuated seriously. "For a Godmother, magic is easy when it follows Tradition and difficult when it is opposed to Tradition. However, in all cases you need to be careful with your words."
Emma frowned in concentration. "What does that mean?"
"Do not tempt the Tradition to put your claims to the test. Claiming anything with words like always or never, maybe even impossible...unless the Tradition places you as unimportant, it will put that statement to the test."
Emma made a face.
"Yes, I know," Elena cut in. "Your parents finding each other so often is why your mother is favored by the Tradition...it actually likes her, which is good and bad..."
"How bad?" Emma asked.
"Just a bit of trouble here and there. She has the mark of a Hero, a bit different than a Champion, but much the same," Elena concluded. "Now back to the magic.
"You'll be able to use any spells the way any other mage can. Potions, amulets, charms, talismans, and enchantments are all at your disposal. What separates a Godmother from an ordinary witch is our invocations."
"Invoking the Tradition?" Emma guessed.
With a nod, the Godmother conjured a slate board and some chalk. "Yes. There are many ways to invoke the Tradition. Sorcerers tend to use long winded and rather useless means that use up much of their power and leave large loop-holes. I usually just ask for what I need."
Emma blinked. "Wait a second, didn't you just say to be careful with my words?"
"Of course," Elena laughed. "The Tradition is fickle, but consistent, a contradiction that is best understood in relation to stories. Emma, most of the everyday spells you'd need have been cast so many times by so many people - both good and evil - that the Tradition remembers them rather well."
"So asking is okay for the small things?"
"Yes. The Tradition is always watching for the best paths to take. Granted the best paths are not always best for the people on them," Elena paused. "If you need a Great Work, something like say transforming a dragon into a human, you need to be very careful. Delicate, obscure, new, those require intense focus, lest the Tradition twist your intent into a curse."
"Makes sense," Emma agreed. "So the everyday stuff is easy and the big stuff needs attention. How do I use magic?"
Elena blinked. "Well there are rituals, spells, incantations and invocations. Rituals require the most set up and are, quite frankly, useless. Spells are incantations that have been shortened into a word or two for quick casting. They are rather rigid and are more for battle and quick healing than anything else. As a Godmother, I rarely use either method.
"Incantations are in a sense a contract with the Tradition. Most are in poems or rhymes so that they are easy to remember. Simple edits to an incantation will allow for major changes in the result. I use these most often for official functions.
"Lastly, invocations. This is simply channeling the Tradition. You ask, it will give. Everything else I have previously mentioned will guide the Tradition to your desired result."
"So I just say what I want? What about the whole price thing?" Emma asked. She was pretty sure Rumpelstiltskin had a whole lecture about magic always coming with a price.
Elena smiled. "The price is paid most often by the Tradition. Everyone has a limited piece of the Tradition attached to them. When a Godmother works her magic, it is usually powered by the hero or heroine we are guiding. Anyone other than a Godmother requires a token of personal value or the hero's life to obtain enough magic to work a proper spell. Any other 'price' comes from specific ingredients and the caster's pool of magic."
"Alright," Emma sighed. "I think I got it, what now?"
"Now? Now we practice," Elena concluded warmly.
A/N: Elena-style magic is way easier to learn than most others. Emma got lucky there...world building is hard. Or rather world meshing...
Anyways next up, Mulan's side of this training adventure! It's half written, so it should be out soon.
Thanks for reading and please review!