A/N: Hey guys! What about that finale huh? WOO! Alright now I am down to ONE final people ONE! So that means it wont be long before this story and all of my others are updated more frequently. I am very excited and thank you for reading.

I do however have something to make clear. After some nasty messages on Tumblr and a few choice comments on FF and AO3 I would like to share something with you. Just because characters in my story do not like another character, that does NOT mean that I, the author, dislike them as well. I love Regina guys, shes a strong character and very iconic but she is the bad guy in this. The summary clearly says "take down the evil queen one way or another" or something to that effect, she is going to have moments of redemption but she is going to have moments of evil. That is the plot and I will not apologize for that. I hope that didn't come off as harsh as it sounds.

Thank you for your lovely comments and continue to enjoy. Much love. I do not own anything but the ideas in my head, now on with the show. 3 - thatlassiegotglassed

Chapter 3: Of Dreams and Snowflakes

Belle French had not always been a hard sleeper. After spending years locked up under Regina's hate, it had taken many months and more than a few trips to Dr. Hopper's before she had been able to sleep at all. In the end, she had gone to appease Mr. Gold. Belle was far from broken, she was strong, they both knew that. But the sleeplessness only increased his sense of worry and she had obliged, allowing him to attend sessions and sit quietly with her hand in his lap as Archie took notes and deemed her perfectly healthy.

The best cure they had found was when she had finally buckled down and moved in with pawnbroker. They had started slow, almost from scratch, and she occupied the spare bedroom upstairs for almost a month while they rebuilt their hearts from the ground up. Sleep became easier but still required effort and in the end, the night Belle slept walked into his room, the solution was painfully obvious.

From then on, under the arm of her lover, sleep came as easily as breathing. As soon as her head hit the pillow she was lost to the world around her. Often, Mr. Gold spoke of her snoring but she assumed it was a jest, for when she offered to go back upstairs, he would cut her off before the thought was even finished. While he guarded the house, constantly on alert, investigating the wind moving the back screen door about four times a week, Belle could sleep through a hurricane. With the Dark One at her back, her subconscious shut itself down and any dreams she had were either incoherent or blissfully ordinary.

That's why as she drifted between the final cycle of sleep and consciousness her brow furrowed in confusion. Tonight's dream had been sequenced, violent and felt downright realistic. Belle clenched her fists and shut her eyes tightly as the memory of Regina destroying the town consumed her thoughts. She whimpered as the dream jumped forward and she clutched Gold for dear life refusing to let him go, she wouldn't this time, this time would be different.

"Rumple!" she gasped with a jolt as she surfaced and the dream ended. She opened her eyes briefly and the world was still dark, she was safe and it was probably in the early hours of the morning. Something she knew for certain was that it was very, very cold. She closed her eyes again and shivered. For some reason unknown to her, Rumplestiltskin liked it cold. Perhaps it was because he ran hot; perhaps it was because it made her sleep closer, her guesses were as good as any, although, it certainly wasn't because he couldn't afford the bill. Often enough, if she asked, he would get up and limp to the thermostat and kick it up a few notches.

She turned to do just that. Reaching a hand out to nudge him gently, her fingers closed around not sheets but something very cold and wet. That wasn't right. With a gasp Belle sat up and opened her eyes, her pupils took a moment to adjust to the darkness around her and once her vision cleared she realized she was sitting in about four inches of snow.

Her first thought was that she was sleep walking again. She wrapped her arms around her and looked slowly in all directions. This was not their front yard or anywhere in Storybrooke that she could remember. In fact, she was seated in a small clearing, surrounded by snow and dense, dark woods. Her mind raced as it all came back to her. Storybrooke's destruction was no dream. Regina had killed the savior and the town had been swallowed by the curse in a self-destructive reverse cycle. She winced as she put her arms down and quickly pulled them up close to her face inspecting the source of her pain.

Deep scratches from the blacktop marred her right forearm as the memory of holding onto Rumplestiltskin came rushing back as well. She had tried and in the end it hadn't been enough. Was he alive? He could be anywhere in the vast woods of the enchanted forest. She had lost him, forced to let go in an attempt to hold onto the dagger.

The dagger.

With wide eyes, Belle scrambled to her knees and looked around for the rucksack. It had to be close. She wouldn't lose it, not when Rumple had deemed it so important. It laid a few feet from her, a thin layer of new fallen snow coated the top and she shook it off, clutching it to her breast with a sigh of relief. She opened it cautiously, making sure the items that he had tossed in along with the dagger itself were perfectly fine. The long metal knife didn't frighten her, not really. But she left it wrapped up all the same, choosing not to touch it directly. It was dark magic, something to be weary of at all times as he had instructed her before they had even left the dark castle, but at the same time it was part of the man that she loved most. She threw the bag around her shoulders and shivered.

Snow had started to fall once more and Belle couldn't deny the beauty of the place she had fallen. However beautiful, it still wasn't going to be wise for her to stay put and freeze to death in her light jacket and sneakers. Lifting her hood, she closed her eyes and spun once, twice, three times before pointing forward and nodding in decision that she was going in that direction. Without a compass, map or any sensible knowledge of where she was, this way was as good as any.

"How do I look?"

Regina walked back into the main room of her castle and spread her hands almost as wide as the smile on her face. Her hair was back to its fantasy length and pinned to the side, black ringlets falling down her left shoulder, so dark it was hard to tell where the hair ended the fabric of her dress began. Her long sleeved cloak fit her like a glove and buttoned to her waist before splitting down the middle and flaring around her leather pants as she walked. She wanted to revel in the feel of her clothes; she wanted to set fire to every pants suit that had ever made her feel less than what she truly was. Placing her hands on her hips, she smiled, dark lips over pearl white teeth, at her son.

Henry sat on the leather settee as stiff as the furniture itself and looked up at his adoptive mother. He looked back down to his shoes quickly and twisted his hands in his lap. Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, he stayed silent.

"Henry, I asked you a question." She walked forward and turned once, more for her benefit than his and smiled once more. "How do I look?"

"Evil." He whispered.

Her smile fell as her heart dropped to her feet and she moved to crouch in front of him. She placed her hands on the arm rests of the chair and looked at him with pleading, dark eyes.

"It hurts me when you say such things." She said as he finally raised his head to look at her face.

"You killed her." He said flatly. It felt as if the air left the room. Although his body language told her that he was afraid, his face challenged her with more bravery than any boy his age should have possessed. Regina lifted her hand to touch his cheek but thought better of it and lowered it back to her lap. Her heart ached with the want to please him, to be everything he thought she could be but the queen inside of her had been broken for so long it overpowered her foolish want for good. She opened her mouth to apologize and quickly closed it, standing up and walking to the mirror on the far side of the room.

"All war has its casualties, Henry." She whispered as she stroked the glass gently and looked deep into the mirror. If she said she was sorry for killing the savior, she would be lying. With Emma out of the way, everything was much less complicated. Well, almost everything. She looked at her beloved son and realized with a sinking of her gut that the price she paid for the destruction of the curse was going to be steep.

"If you need anything," she tapped the mirror with her index finger, watching him in the reflection, "I'll know." With a swish of her cloak, she walked back to the front of the room and stopped by the heavy iron door. "When I return I'll give you a tour of the castle and we can have dinner. Would you like that?"

Henry refused to look up and she realized her question would remain unanswered no matter how long she stood by the door and waited. With a last look, she walked out of the door and shut it firmly behind her.

"Make sure he doesn't leave." She mumbled to the guard standing outside the entrance. One way or another, she would get through to him. There was no doubt in her mind that if he knew her regrets he would grow to accept her in spite of them all. However, as she strutted down the stone hallway, basking in the feel of being back inside her fortress, she pushed them aside. The many mirrors along the hall all shown with the reflection of her dark glory and she knew, this was no time for regrets, this was time for vengeance.

The mirrors came to life with a swirling blue mist and the glass cleared to reveal a man. He blinked and his eyes grew wide as he focused on the Queen. Sydney Glass, once Storybrooke's head reporter and right hand to the queen during her days as mayor, was now once again imprisoned in the mirrors that his beloved queen loved more than she loved him.

His dark face jumped from mirror to mirror as she walked down the hallway. Whether she ignored his presence or was simply unaware, he wasn't sure. But he followed the best he could, sensing the frustration boiling off of her very skin.

"Your majesty," he called, the yell echoing off the glass as he popped a few mirrors in front of her. "We're back. We've returned!" His voice shook with a mixture of disbelief and panic. Whereas the queen was thankful to be home, Sydney had simply traded one prison for another.

"Very good, Sydney," she paused and turned sharply, the train of her coal black dress issued a hiss against the stone beneath her feet. "And what gave that away? Was it the castle? No. Well, how about the fact that you are back where you belong?" She stalked forward and let her nails trail down the glass with a sickening screech.

Sydney jumped back from the surface and winced, closing his dark eyes tightly and fighting back the look of hurt that threatened to cross his face. Regina opened her mouth to continue her verbal destruction of her only companion but froze as the mirror rippled and Sydney vanished. She moved her hand in a swiping motion in front of the glass, "Sydney?"

The mirror remained blank.

She stalked down the hall, waving her hand in front of each framed looking-glass without any luck. With a sinking feeling in her gut, the queen bunched her skirts in her fists and hurried down the corridor and into her master chambers. The door banged open and slammed shut behind her once she was inside without a touch. Across the bedchamber on the far wall was quite possibly the largest mirror in all of the Enchanted Forest, perhaps in all the lands. It stretched the length of the wall, from floor to ceiling and was nearly ten feet in wide. The ornate frame which surrounded the reflective surface was a tarnished brass, engraved with the faces of every soul the queen had ever stolen from this world prematurely. It was her most prized possession and she stopped in the middle, looking frantically into its depths.

"Sydney!" she yelled. With a thrust of her hands, she forced a wave of green magic into the mirror and it rippled again.

The man reappeared once more and the queen was eye level with his coarse, black beard. He looked disoriented, lost and his image was faded. She demanded an explanation and he sputtered to appease her.

"Magic, my queen. It's different. Something is," he paused and thought about it. "Something is wrong."

The queen paused and closed her eyes slowly, feeling her own magic within her and she sensed the truth in his words. Something wasn't quite right about the powers that swirled around her and whatever it was more than likely was affecting the magic of all the land. With an uneasy feeling in her stomach, she blanked the mirror, banishing her companion to its depths, and collapsed on the seat at the foot of her bed.

Snow White pulled her dark hair back and pinned it with a golden comb. After dabbing her eyes, she reached down and scooped up her forgotten clothes of the other land. Her once cherished pink cardigan was now dirty and wrinkled and she clutched it to her breast like it was precious. She glanced at the waste basket before opening the trunk at the foot of her four poster bed and depositing them inside. She now wore a simple, cream colored dress and as she gazed in the mirror it was as if Mary Margaret disappeared and all that remained was Snow White, the princess, make that the queen. With Charming by her side they were supposed to save the lands, protect them and keep them safe. At the thought of her husband, the woman dissolved into tears and buried her face in her hands. How could they protect an entire world when they couldn't even protect their own daughter?

Back inside her castle, Snow White didn't feel like a queen, she felt like a failure.

A soft knock came at the door and she used a silk pocket cloth to dab her face. With a word of passage from the princess, Grumpy walked inside and looked at her gently. He was still in his Storybrooke flannel and jeans that had seen better days but he didn't seem to mind. He ran a hand through his beard and finally over his balding head, a gesture that was more due the fact that he was unsure what to do with his hands than one of habit.

"Hey sister," he said quietly. She bit her lip and remained silent as he continued. "It's done. We finished. David-…Charming- he's already there."

With a nod, she stood and walked past Grumpy and into the corridor. The castle was just as they left it. Pillars of rich, chestnut wood supported the gothic archways and windows located every few feet allowed for the hallways to be filled with soft natural sunlight opposed to the harsh flicker of too many candles. It was home or at least it should have been. At the moment the castle itself felt like a shell, a hollow, empty shell, void of happiness when it should have been filled to the brim with it.

She stopped at the giant wooden doors at the end of the hallway and placed her hands on them, pushing forward. They opened with a soft groan and once the crack was wide enough, she stepped through. The throne room held many memories and was once her most favorite of places. Prince and Princess had been married inside this very room, she remembered that day like it was yesterday, surrounded by all of her friends and making her love public and expressing it before all the land. It was also in this room where Charming had discovered he was to be a father. Snow quickly reminisced on the day she had held his hand as he sat on his throne and told him the news, how he embraced her and his eyes filled with a light unlike any she had ever known. As she entered the room, she feared that light was now gone forever.

The man in question was on his knees in the center of the grand hall. Sunlight filtered in through the windows and the shadows slowly grew in length as dusk was quickly approaching. Prince Charming, still in the debris covered working clothes of David Nolan, kneeled in front of the body of his only daughter. Snow stayed where she was and focused on taking deep breaths, determined to stay strong for her husband, and quietly admired the handy work of the dwarves.

Emma Swan looked like the princess she had been born to be. Gone were the fitted slacks, red leather jacket and sheriff's badge and in their place was a wispy gown. The soft, teal material lay naturally across her body and fell off the intricately carved table that she laid upon. On their return to the Enchanted Forest, the dwarves and quickly carved a wooden table like structure that was lined with a satin pillow top. Charming had refused to place his daughter in something as final and foreboding as a coffin, for her story was not over. Emma Swan lived on, in a deep sleep like that of both her father and mother before her, trapped in a curse and confined to the recesses of her own mind and body.

Snow heard Charming mumbling and she stepped forward, conscious of the fact that he was still unaware of her presence. His large hands stroked the length of her blonde curls where they lay fanned out around her shoulders that now looked small when void of her leather jacket and confidence.

"Please. P-please. Please…please." He whispered, quietly at first and then allowed each word to become slightly louder and carry across the stones of the majestic room. With each 'please' he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. His voice cracked at the very end of his pleading and he gave up. As his shoulders slumped, he grabbed Emma's right hand and held it in both of his own, pressing it to his forehead. Once he allowed his eyes to close, his body was racked with sobs and the prince was lost to his misery.

"I'm sorry. I'm s-so sorry." He said and the apology carried through the castle as everyone in it mourned with their beloved ruler.

Snow walked quietly up the stairs leading to the platform that displayed her daughter and placed her hands on his shoulders, gripping him tightly and talking over his frantic pleas for his daughter's forgiveness.

"Charming," she called as her own chest grew tight and she tried to pry him away from the table. "Charming!"

He turned and pulled her to him, the dirt on his clothes crumpling the dainty fabric of her dress, and placed a hand in her hair, holding her like she was the last solid thing in the world. Charming quieted and took a shaky breath, whispering against her cheek, "I should have done more. I failed her. I failed you. I'm sorry, Snow, I'm so sorry."

Every word that spilled from his lips could not have been farther from the truth and Snow knew that. She only wished she could make him realize it as well. As the town crumbled around them Charming had been there; quick reflexes pulling his wife back to her feet as she lost her balance to the quake, strong hands pushing Henry out of the way of falling debris, he had played the hero he was born to be but it hadn't been enough.

And now he kneeled on the cold ground trying to awaken his daughter with the unconditional love of a good father and proving to be unsuccessful. In the end, it had been Emma who had saved him and in his mind that was not how the story should end. Children were not supposed to die saving their parents, in Charming's mind it should have been the other way around. She now stood before him, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, and her hands encircled his shoulders, cradling his head the best she could. As he wept, Snow was positive he would have stayed on his knees, begging for forgiveness that was not needed and trying to awaken his daughter with kisses of love till he passed out from exhaustion and his lips cracked and bled.

As she looked up, she saw the dwarves standing silently at the edge of the room. They removed their hats and gripped them tightly, a few bowing their heads in sorrow for the King and Queen they loved and respected. Snow looked back down and kissed the top of Charming's head. With her lips against his hair she said softly, "It's not forever. The blue fairy said it was a sleeping curse."

Even as she spoke the words, they felt like a simplified lie. A sleeping curse, however not as final as death, was still a serious thing and it seemed this family had suffered enough of them.

"Then why isn't it working?"

She could only assume he was referring to his effort of trying to break the spell moments before and she didn't have an answer for him. With gentle hands, she stroked his hair until the sun slipped beneath the horizon and they were left in the dark, the only noise provided by his soft sniffs and her kisses against his head.

"We need help." Snow said, breaking the silence at last.

Grumpy stepped up and looked at the Prince with a nod. "There might be someone."

Both the royals looked to him. Charming released Snow gently and stood slowly, keeping a hand on the edge of the table until he regained his footing. They looked to the dwarf to continue.

"And if it is a war Regina wants," he paused and swallowed hard, not believing his own words as his eyes fell on Charming, hoping he would understand. "Then there will come a time when we need him on our side."

Charming's back straightened and he looked to his daughter before back to the man in front of him. As he regained his composure and nodded his head in agreement, he avoided eye contact with his wife and she couldn't help but notice. Grumpy was right. "Will you and the others stay and protect Emma?"

Doc straightened his glasses and took a step forward, "With our lives." The rest nodded in agreement and Charming's straight face faded into one of gratitude.

"Snow," he turned to her then and put his hands on the lace of her shoulders gently. "Pack a bag." He released her and walked to the throne, picking up the sturdy leather sheath of his sword and gripping it tightly. His tears dried but he did not wipe them away and his face cleared along with his mind.

"Where are we going?" she breathed, her eyes wide with confusion but unable to help admiring the way he seemed to be in his element, taking his place of power for the first time in nearly three decades.

Charming paused and looked out the stained glass window. His eyes narrowed on the horizon as he said firmly, "The Dark Castle."