Chapter Thirty-Eight: Responsibility
Enchanted Forest, some time ago…
Treason.
Cora had committed treason.
Eva closed her eyes as she leaned back against the cold stone wall. Her breath came in rough, uneven gasps, and her heart hammered loudly in her chest.
Was that who Cora truly was, underneath everything?
She'd left the courtyard almost immediately after Cora's arrest. Blanche and Francis had been standing together, whispering in low voices, and Blanche had looked on the verge of tears. Gabriel had been far more stoic, though his eyes had flashed with dangerous anger. And the courtiers had formed into groups, murmuring gleefully, relishing the excitement of Cora's abrupt fall from grace.
Eva had not wanted to see any of it. She felt sick – skin flushed, a pounding headache, bile rising in her throat. So she'd slipped away unnoticed, and wandered blindly through the castle hallways, sinking deeper and deeper into the bowels of the building.
The corridor was cool and dark, illuminated only by flickering torches along the walls. There were no windows to let in sunlight, no breeze to freshen the stale air.
She licked dry lips.
Cora's words echoed in the silence. Her tone – so cold, so vicious. Was she really that cruel?
"Not what you expected, dearie?"
Eva started, eyes snapping open, and shoved herself away from the wall. She slipped over the stones in her haste, but caught her balance and stood, eyes wide and wild, staring at the man before her.
"I… how…?" Eva stammered. It took her a moment to push away the overwhelming image of Cora issuing those deadly threats, and then she asked in a calmer tone, "Were you there? Did you see what she did?"
"Yes," Rumplestilskin answered, giggling. "It was quite the show, wasn't it?"
Eva folded her arms over her chest and shivered. Those inhuman eyes were filled with glee – the same glee she had seen, barely concealed, in the eyes of the amused courtiers as Cora was dragged from the courtyard. The same glee she had seen so often in Cora's gaze whenever she mocked Blanche.
"You wanted this to happen," Eva said, realization dawning slowly. "You wanted Cora to… to do all…" she gestured helplessly in the vague direction of the courtyard from which she had fled, "all that." She shook her head, bewildered. "But… but you told me that you believed Cora could change. You practically goaded me into trying to apologize to her, to prove that we could put the past behind us. I thought you didn't want me to use that potion."
Rumplestilskin continued to stare at her, a smile revealing uneven teeth.
Eva backed away slowly. "You knew," she whispered, horrified. "You knew she would never accept my apology. You knew she would never stop trying to destroy me – to destroy Blanche. You wanted that confrontation so that I would be convinced to slip the potion into her drink. You… you used me."
"I offered you what you wanted," Rumplestilskin countered glibly, hands slicing through the air as he made one of his strange gestures. "A way to destroy your enemy. I did not make you use it." He giggled again, light-hearted, but all Eva heard was menace.
"That potion…"
"That potion did exactly what I told you it would do," Rumplestilskin interrupted.
"That was all Cora?" Eva questioned. "That is what she is really like?"
She'd witnessed firsthand how cruel Cora could be, and she'd seen how bitterly jealous the other woman was of anyone with power. But although she had always thought the worst of Cora, she had never expected this. She'd never expected Cora to be so…
"We all have our secrets," Rumplestilskin said. "All those nasty little thoughts we keep buried deep inside, all those dark desires. And now you've seen Cora's."
Eva stared at him for a long, silent moment, then demanded, "What did she do to you?" When Rumplestilskin didn't reply, she pressed with growing anger, "You sought me out, you came to me. You wanted this to happen, and you wanted it enough to make it happen. Why? What did Cora do to you?"
"It doesn't matter anymore," Rumplestilskin answered, laughing triumphantly. "It's in the past. I've already won."
The sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor interrupted the conversation, and Eva glanced over her shoulder. Leopold came bursting around the corner, stumbling to a stop when he caught sight of her. Relief flooded his features.
"I heard what happened in the courtyard. Are you alright?" he demanded, catching both her arms in his grip and searching her face intently. "I was worried when I couldn't find you. What are you even doing down here?"
"I was… I was talking to…" Eva turned back around, and the words died on her lips.
Rumplestilskin was gone.
"Eva?" Leopold prompted.
Eva closed her eyes and suddenly sank against him, falling into his embrace. Leopold stiffened for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her tightly.
"I did this," Eva admitted, trembling.
"What do you mean?"
She drew back and look up at Leopold, feeling heat suffuse her face. What would he think of her actions? He had cautioned her against using the potion, against trusting Rumplestilskin. And though Cora was horrible, cruel, dangerous… Rumplestilskin had manipulated her into doing this, had used her for his own ends.
Cora had been arrested for treason. Her life was ruined, and if she was not executed, she would spend the rest of her days in the dungeons or locked in a tower. There would be no coming back from this, and if Eva had once thought that she would feel elation at her enemy's demise, she knew better now.
Now, all she felt was guilt.
"I did this," she said, exhaling slowly. "I'm the reason Cora… said what she said."
Leopold stared at her uncomprehendingly for a long moment, then said slowly, "The potion. You put the potion into her drink."
"She was so busy insulting Blanche she didn't even notice," Eva murmured wearily. "Then she took a sip of the wine and…" She trailed off with a heavy sigh, and slipped entirely out of Leopold's grasp. Turning, she glanced once more along the length of the dimly lit corridor. No sign of Rumpelstiltskin anywhere.
"I heard what she said, how she acted," Leopold said. "It's all over the castle now; it's the only thing anyone is talking about."
Eva choked back a hollow laugh. "Of course it is," she muttered. She faced Leopold. "I wanted people to see how she acted around me. Around Blanche. I didn't think it would… I did not expect this."
"You could not have known," Leopold offered what little comfort he had.
"Rumplestilskin did," Eva replied. "He knew what would happen. He wanted it to happen." Leopold furrowed his brow in confusion, and she answered the unasked question, "I don't know. He was not exactly forthcoming on his motives."
They were both quiet for a moment, mulling over everything, then Leopold said, "You need to tell Francis what you did." Eva gave him a nonplussed look, and he argued fervently, "Even if the potion only showed her true colors, Eva, the words she said, the threats she made – all of that was done under the influence of magic. He needs to know that. He needs to take it into consideration when determining what to do with her."
Eva chewed her lip. She did not want to reveal her actions to Francis. She did not want to admit that she had been so easily manipulated by a complete stranger. She did not want to have to explain her motives, knowing that her desire to lash out at Cora in such a way would make her appear petty. And no doubt the truth would reach her parents, and she would be forced to sit through yet another of her mother's lectures on the proper behavior of a future queen.
And she didn't want to admit to the guilt she felt, did not want to say it aloud. It felt safe, somehow, to talk to Leopold about it in hushed voices in a darkened corridor. But to admit to Francis – to the entire court – what she had done…?
That would make the guilt real.
"Eva," Leopold said firmly, "the punishment for treason is death. You can't let Francis do that to her."
"I didn't give her any of those thoughts, I didn't make her want to kill Francis," Eva defended herself. Weakly.
Leopold simply continued to gaze at her, his disappointment obvious, and Eva had to fight back the desire to lash out at him. How did he manage to get under her skin like this?
She averted her eyes. "So what? You want Francis to pardon her? Let her rejoin the court and start ruining everyone's lives again?" she demanded acerbically. "I don't want to give her that kind of power. Not now that we've seen who she really is."
"What power will she have?" Leopold countered. "Practically every courtier was in that courtyard, and the ones who weren't will have already heard the story by now. She may have the ability to spin straw into gold, but that will mean nothing anymore. No one will trust her, no one will side with her. She'll never have power again." He rested his hand on Eva's arm. "But she'll have her life, and possibly even her freedom."
Eva nodded reluctantly. Leopold was right, as much as she did not want to admit it.
She needed to talk to Francis.
"I need you to keep an eye on Emma Swan," Cora announced as she swept into the small house. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as the smell of sweat and wet leather assailed her nostrils. "I take it cleanliness is beyond you?"
Hook glanced at her. "Not all of us can conjure new clothing out of thin air," he replied. He looked past her, towards the door. "I take it knocking is beyond you?"
Cora ignored the return barb. Instead, she glanced about and asked curiously, "Who used to live here?"
Hook didn't answer.
Cora was unconcerned by his silence. It was only mere curiosity that had caused her to ask about the fate of the homeowner; she didn't actually care.
No doubt Hook had assumed that he could live on his ship after he arrived in Storybrooke, but that plan had fallen apart when his ship had been destroyed. Given his previous attempt to hurt the darling little librarian, it seemed unlikely he would be welcomed into one of the rooms above the town's diner. And if anyone ever found out what more he had done to Belle…
Well. It was no longer any of her concern how he chose to see to his needs. Although, he really did need to figure out how to wash his clothing – not that the strange washing contraptions in this world made any sense.
"Now, about Miss Swan…"
"What do you want with her?" Hook demanded, leveling a sharp, suspicious glare at her.
"Just follow her," Cora replied. "You spent time with her in the Enchanted Forest, you know her. I want you to follow her and report back to me. I want to know how she… how she seems."
"How she seems?" Hook repeated dubiously.
"Yes," Cora said in a clipped tone. When Hook did not immediately jump at the opportunity to help her – and really, she wasn't that surprised, the fool never seemed to know what was best for him – she added bitingly, "Oh, does this conflict with your busy schedule of sitting around doing nothing?"
"Why would I help you?" Hook snapped back, flushed slightly.
"Because you don't have anything better to do," Cora replied. She crossed the room and settled herself onto the sofa, smoothing a hand over her billowing skirt. She would need to invest in some different clothing to fit into this world better. Perhaps something like what Regina wore? Should she cut her hair as well?
Hook was still glowering at her, now evidently displeased that she had chosen to make herself at home in his – stolen – house.
She smiled coldly. "You pushed the little librarian over the town line." She saw the look of surprise and unease pass quickly through Hook's eyes, there and gone. His face fell into a neutral expression, but she rolled her eyes and said a bit dismissively, "Yes, I know what you did. And no, you have no reason to fear that I'll tell Rumple. It suits my plans just fine to have him think he drove his true love away." She eyed him carefully, but Hook had gotten his emotions under control and showed no reaction at all to her words. She sighed, and added, "You had your revenge on your crocodile. Now what?"
"It's not enough," Hook growled suddenly, turning away from Cora. "He ripped Milah's heart out and crushed it into dust." He'd had his revenge, first turning Belle against Rumplestilskin and then erasing her memory entirely, but it would never be enough for him.
"Don't stop until they are on their knees," Cora murmured.
Hook said nothing. He knew Cora wanted to destroy the town, though he still didn't know why. He knew she would never stop, not until everything had turned to ash and dust and she was the only one left standing. She might – might – let Regina live, but Cora's feelings towards her daughter were complicated, and the pirate wasn't convinced that even the one-time Evil Queen would survive Cora's reckoning.
He didn't want to destroy the town. If Cora ripped them all to shreds, he would not shed any tears, but in the end he cared only about his revenge on Rumplestilskin. And after centuries of so desperately striving for it, he'd finally succeeded and the truth was…
He felt empty. He'd watched from the shadows as the crocodile learned what Belle had supposedly done, crossing the town line. He had seen the pain on that imp's face, the grief and regret and self-loathing, the helpless fury. All the emotions he himself had felt as Milah had clutched at her chest and fallen to the deck of his ship.
And it wasn't enough.
The gnawing anger inside of him had not subsided. If anything, it had grown. But with no target for his temper, what could he do?
He wanted to hurt Rumplestilskin more.
Everything had been a means to this end. Escaping Pan, betraying Pan, finding Belle in Regina's prison, allowing Regina to pull him into her plans, allowing Cora to trap him in her web… Everything had been about this. And now that it was done, now that Rumplestilskin knew exactly what it was like to lose the person he loved the most…
It still wasn't enough.
Would it ever be enough?
"Keep an eye on Miss Swan," Cora said, cutting into his thoughts. "Report back to me."
Hook opened his mouth to refuse, or at the very least to ask what he would get in return. Then he stopped and sighed inwardly. It would be something to do, something to occupy his time while he tried to figure out what his next steps should be.
He looked at Cora. "Fine. But first you need to conjure up some different clothing for me."
Cora smiled.
"So… this is a thing? Meetings with nobility? You… you do this. Frequently."
Emma felt nonplussed. The very idea that there actually were royalty in this town – fairytale royalty, no less – was still too bizarre to fully comprehend. And the fact that her parents were royalty, and that she would now be accompanying David to meet with other kings and queens…
This was just too strange.
David nodded absently, his mind momentarily elsewhere. "We'll have to form some sort of council with regular meetings, I suppose," he mused vaguely, "if we stay in Storybrooke." He stared out the window of the car as Emma drove along the nearly empty streets. A cold wind had blown in earlier in the day, the sky was threatening snow, and no one really wanted to be outside.
Emma impatiently tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. David had been distant since the hospital, first preoccupied with keeping Belle calm – no small task – and then later involved in a very heated phone conversation with Leah. And when he'd finally announced that Leah had called a meeting, he and Mary Margaret had been too frustrated by the realization that Mary Margaret could not attend without risking being thrown back into jail to notice that Emma had no idea what was going on.
She didn't like feeling wrong-footed.
But she'd felt that way pretty much since the moment she'd crawled out of the well.
She had honestly believed that she could just walk back into her life as though nothing had changed. But everything had changed, and she had no idea how to be the savior that Henry wanted or the princess that everyone expected.
"So, remind me again who will be there?" Emma prompted finally.
David blinked, and turned to look at her as though finally becoming fully aware that he was not alone in the car. "Oh. Well, Leah and Stefan, of course. Charles – he's Ella's father." At Emma's blank look, he explained, "Ashley. She's… um… Cinderella."
"Cinderella? Like with the fairy godmother and talking mice?"
"Yes. Except her fairy godmother was killed by Rumplestilskin, and he's the one who sent her to the ball. And George killed one of the talking mice and then tried to frame Ruby for it." David stared out the window again, his brow furrowed, and said slowly, "I suppose George will be there, too."
Emma took her eyes off the road just long enough to give David a completely blank look. Nothing he had just said made any sense whatsoever.
Emma parked the car in front of the town hall and unbuckled her seatbelt. But she hesitated. There were butterflies in her stomach – a nervousness she had not experienced in a very long time. Even when Henry had first showed up at her door, announcing that he was her son and turning her life completely upside-down, she had not felt like this.
But David didn't seem to notice. He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door, stepping out into the frigid air.
Emma followed, pulling her blue leather jacket more tightly around herself and shivering slightly as she raised her eyes towards the building in front of them.
"Thomas and Primrose," David continued his recitation of the other rulers, "although you probably know them as Rapunzel's parents. Eric and Ariel…"
"The mermaid?" Emma demanded. "Ariel as in the Little Mermaid."
"Well, she's not a mermaid anymore," David replied vaguely. He hurried up the steps and pulled open the main doors to the building, pausing to gesture for Emma to proceed him. "And Midas," he added as Emma stepped past him. "He's… uh… Abigail – Katherine's – father."
Emma noticed the way David tripped over the name, as though the words were choking him. She squeezed his arm, trying to offer comfort or reassurance, but the gesture felt awkward, almost trite.
David smiled grimly, bitterly, and the two of them followed the sound of voices towards a conference room near the end of the long corridor.
"You're late," Leah sniped.
In the center of the room was an oval table, with Leah and a man Emma assumed must be Stefan sitting closest to the door. A young couple, the only other people in the room close to David and Emma's age, sat opposite Leah and Stefan, and they were deep in conversation with an older man who Emma vaguely recognized but could not place. The remaining three people sat at the far end of the table; a couple perhaps ten or fifteen years older than Emma, and an even older man with blondish-gray hair, a heavy beard, and an expression of tremendous sadness.
Leah gave Emma a quick, disparaging stare, and then gestured towards the empty seats.
David paused in the doorway. "George isn't here," he murmured.
Emma slanted a look at him. "Isn't that a good thing?"
"Depends on where he is instead," David replied grimly. He slid into a seat, and Emma followed suit. Nobody commented on Mary Margaret's absence, but Emma noticed several gazes linger on David for a moment, read the suspicion and uncertainty in their eyes.
"How is Belle?" the man that Emma vaguely recognized asked, leaning forward and propping an elbow on the table.
"She's… recovering," Emma replied hesitantly.
"Good," the man said, frowning heavily. To David, he offered, "I understand Dr. Whale's decision to call the… sheriff… to help with this matter, but I feel as though Belle is my responsibility."
"Why?" Emma demanded before David could reply.
"Belle's father was a minor noble in Charles' kingdom," David cut in, resting a hand on Emma's arm to stop any further protest she might make, "and with her father dead and her memory lost…" He inclined his head towards Charles, in either acknowledgement or gratitude, and said, "Let's give Belle a day or two to get used to her surroundings and then see what she decides."
Charles did not look pleased with that response, but he didn't argue.
Charles. Emma furrowed her brow, concentrating, and it came to her: Charles had forbidden Sean and Ashley from being involved while Ashley was pregnant with his granddaughter, leaving the young woman alone and overwhelmed by her pregnancy, and a victim to Gold's schemes.
Emma curled her hands beneath the table, and bit her lip to keep from saying anything snide.
Leah called the meeting to order. "Thank you for coming," she said politely – a false compliment, Emma thought cuttingly, because what other choice did any of them have when Leah was trying to take control of the town? They couldn't not show up.
But if Leah was at all aware of the burning resentment growing in Emma's chest, she did not show it.
"As the Savior has returned safely to us," Leah cast an assessing gaze in Emma's direction, "I feel it is once more time to address our situation here."
"Why does Emma Swan's return necessitate that?" one of the men at the table asked, frowning. He sent Emma an apologetic look, and continued quickly, almost contritely, "We are, of course, exceedingly grateful for what you have done for us…" he faltered for a moment, as though unsure of the best way to address her, before settling on, "Sheriff Swan." He smiled warmly. "I don't mean to diminish your breaking the curse."
"I think we can all agree on that, Thomas," Charles agreed, and a murmur of gratitude ran around the table.
Emma shifted in her seat, uncomfortable, but forced herself to hold the gazes of the others in the room. She could feel something beneath the gratitude, an undercurrent of unease. There was tension in this room that she didn't understand, alliances and enmities from before that had resurfaced now that the curse was broken.
She glanced at David, but he was looking at Leah.
Leah was the only one not bothering to express gratitude. Even Stefan was nodding along with the others, but Leah's expression was hard and cold. And when she spoke, her words were brittle.
"Our previous conversation about the state of the town was cut short, in part because we had no idea if it would be possible to return home. Now it appears that it is." Leah turned to Emma, and asked bluntly, "How long do you think it will take you to reopen the portal you created?"
"Whoa, wait – what?" Emma stammered, her mouth falling open. Whatever she had expected Leah to ask, it wasn't that. But maybe she should have seen it coming. After all, it wasn't exactly a surprise to her that people wanted to return to the Enchanted Forest. Hadn't she already heard those comments at Granny's diner?
But now all eyes were on Emma – some curious, some excited – and she found herself saying almost desperately, "I don't know how I did that. I don't know if I could repeat it."
"You did it once, it can be repeated," Stefan stated flatly before Leah had a chance to respond. When Emma started to protest, he held up a hand and added, "No one is expecting you to be able to do it right now. If it takes you time to work out the details, then it takes you time. The point is that it is possible. We can return home – at least eventually."
As Emma sat there in stunned silence, unable to think how to respond, David interjected, "That isn't our most pressing issue at the moment. Our first priority needs to be keeping this town safe."
Leah raised an eyebrow and said sharply, "My daughter is trapped in a destroyed land infested with ogres. Returning to her is certainly one of my priorities." Her lips twisted into a cruel smirk. "Or don't you care about other people's children?"
"Of course I care," David argued fiercely, temper flaring without Mary Margaret there to caution patience, "but we're not going to be much help to Aurora if we're all dead. Cora is a threat."
"Besides," Emma added angrily as Leah scoffed at David's words, "not everyone wants to return to the Enchanted Forest." She knew that she, for one, was not set on the idea of returning back to the land she had only just escaped. She glanced around the table, saw doubt reflected in several pairs of eyes, but pressed on regardless, "Even if some of you go back to your homes, we need to keep the town safe for the people who remain here."
"What makes you so sure anyone is going to stay?" an older woman – Primrose, David whispered in Emma's ear – asked meekly.
"We are staying," a young woman said. She was clearly the youngest in the room, probably no older than twenty-five, but she squared her shoulders and faced the others around the table without flinching. "Eric and I have spoken about it, and we've decided not to return." And she turned to smile at the handsome young man sitting next to her.
She had flowing red hair and bright green eyes, and Emma assumed she must be Ariel.
"Not leaving?" Stefan repeated, surprised. "But what about your kingdom at home?"
"This is our home now," Eric answered, "as it has been for twenty-eight years. And there are other people here who feel the same, who don't want to return. Our homes have been taken over by the ogres again, and not everyone will want to fight that war. So they can stay with us." He swallowed, looking unsure about his next statement, but Ariel squeezed his hand encouragingly, and he said, "We'll start a democracy. A real one, where we actually elect a mayor instead of just giving it to the Evil Queen."
"And your people? The ones who do want to return home? You would just abandon them?" Leah demanded harshly. "In case you've forgotten Eric, you have no brothers. No one else to rule in your stead. That is your kingdom, your responsibility."
"I have a cousin," Eric shot back, flushing at the accusation. He folded his arms over his chest, glaring at Leah with a hostility born from years of mutual disdain, and said defiantly, "Marcus was raised knowing how to rule. He was second to the throne until I was born. I've already spoken with him and Isabella, and they have agreed to take the responsibility of kingship."
"This is madness," Charles muttered, shaking his head. To Eric, he said, "I will not presume to tell you what to do, but have you truly considered the repercussions of this? You will never be able to see your family again."
"If Sheriff Swan can open a portal once," Primrose said, giving Emma a thoughtful look, "she could do it repeatedly. I see no reason why any of these decisions have to be permanent."
"Uh… sure? I mean, I guess? If I can figure out how…" Emma replied weakly, shaking her head. What was she getting herself into?
"If Eric wants to abdicate the throne, that's his own foolish decision," Stefan said disapprovingly, shaking his head at Eric and Ariel. "Let him do what he will."
"But it's not just his decision," Leah countered softly. She gave her husband a pointed look, unspoken communication passing between them, and Stefan rubbed angrily at his eyes, grumbling under his breath. To the others at the table, she said, "Stefan and I have spoken about this, and we believe the best method of dealing with the Evil Queen and the Dark One is to leave them here."
"Leave them?" Emma questioned, looking up sharply. Although the idea of having Regina forcibly removed from her life was tempting – after all, the older woman had tried to do the exact same thing to Emma – it was unlikely Henry would consent to being permanently separated from his adopted mother. And Emma wasn't going anywhere without Henry.
Besides, what right did Leah and Stefan have to make that decision? Regina's fate, whatever it might be, had to be decided by a jury of her peers. Emma was not going to stand for anything less, was not going to allow a feudal society to demand precedence over the town's democracy.
"Well, surely we are not allowing the Evil Queen or the Dark One to return with us," Leah replied reasonably. "If we leave them here, they curse will provide food and shelter for them, they won't be able to leave the town to endanger the rest of this world, and they won't be able to harm us." She shrugged carelessly, as though it was the best option available.
And maybe, Emma thought with a frown, she could understand their point of view. Regina had torn them all from their lives, cursed them to this unhappy existence. This method of dealing with her protected everyone while avoiding the necessity of having to actually fight against her.
Still… it felt wrong. Regina might belong in jail, but trapped in an empty town with only Gold for company…?
"Well, we will need to rethink that plan," Eric said stubbornly, "because Ariel and I are staying here. And now that there is magic here, the Evil Queen is a threat."
"If you want to be safe from her, all you have to do is come home," Leah countered.
"Or we could send her back to her empty kingdom where she can't hurt any of us, and we could all stay here," Ariel protested. "Same with the Dark One."
"Unacceptable," Leah stated flatly.
The whole conversation was entirely theoretical at the moment, because Emma had no idea how to create another portal. Was it even possible? Could she find whatever it was inside of her that had brought out that magic and use it again? Or had it been a one-time thing, powerful but uncontrollable, accomplished only because of her desperate need?
The blonde rubbed tiredly at her eyes, tuning out the irritable and ill-tempered argument happening around her. She felt in over her head – both in politics and in magic. She didn't know who to turn to for help about the first issue, although Mary Margaret and David could probably fill her in on past governments and treaties if she asked. But she hadn't lived in the Enchanted Forest, and even knowing how things had worked there might not be enough to make her understand it.
And then how would she navigate this new world?
As for magic… there were only three options there, and she didn't really want to ask Regina or Gold for help. Gold probably wouldn't agree to help her anyway, given that he'd made some sort of Faustian deal with Cora. And Regina… well. Emma was still fairly certain that Regina was lying through her teeth about something, even if Emma didn't fully know what it was.
But the Blue Fairy had been the one to lock Mary Margaret away in that jail cell, and even if Mary Margaret insisted she could be trusted…
Emma just wasn't sure.
So who could she turn to for help?
"I will not let you put my wife in prison!" David thundered suddenly, slamming a hand down on the table. Emma started out of her thoughts and stared at David with wide eyes, surprised to see the ferocity in his expression. But the surprise quickly turned to worry and dismay – how had they ended up on the topic of Mary Margaret's time in jail?
"James, please," Primrose murmured placating, "Thomas only meant…"
"My name," David cut in harshly, "is David. And I know what your husband meant."
Primrose shrank back from David's fury, but Thomas wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders and said bitingly, "You keep insisting that this mysterious woman none of us has ever seen is behind everything. Yet all the evidence suggests that the wolf killed Sir Maurice."
"Ruby didn't kill anyone," Emma protested, jumping into the middle of the conversation without any idea of how it had started.
"And that is why you decided to bypass all our concerns, to ignore all our evidence, and break her and Snow out of jail?" Leah asked mildly. "You decided you had the right to unilaterally make that decision?"
Emma swallowed back the anger bubbling up in her throat and forced herself to say calmly, "You unilaterally decided to throw her in jail in the first place."
"Oh, I think you'd find we had quite a bit of support for that decision," Stefan cut in, and Emma was appalled to see several people at the table were nodding.
"But you are not in charge of this town!" Emma snarled.
Leah raised an eyebrow. "And you are?" she asked delicately, shaking her head in patronizing amusement. "You know nothing of any of us. You are only just barely a part of this world. How could you possibly be able to lead?"
"I'm the elected sheriff!" Emma seethed.
"Elected by people who were cursed, who had no idea who they were. Everything we did under that curse was due to Regina's magic," Leah replied, her voice growing quieter, calmer, even as Emma's words increased in volume.
"Well, they knew what they were doing when they elected me," Emma shot back. "That was not a part of the curse. Or do you really think Regina would have let anyone give me that kind of power?"
"And now that you've had a taste of that power, you don't want to give it up?" Leah questioned.
"And you do?"
"You had no right…"
"I had every right," Leah interrupted her. "It is my right and my responsibility as queen to protect my subjects."
"And yet you didn't," the man with the gray-blonde hair said, speaking up for the first time since the meeting had begun. He lifted pale, watery eyes from the table and stared first at Leah, then at David, until finally his gaze came to linger on Emma. "None of you did. You bicker and you squabble and in the meantime, my daughter gets her heart ripped out and crushed into dust." His words dripped with disdain as he spoke, and when he turned to David, they took on an added tone of disbelief, "James, David – whatever you want to be called – you say you want to protect the town. You insist that you can't put your energy into Ruby Lucas' trial right now because you want to fight this Cora. But what fighting are you doing? How are you actually protecting us?" He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. "What good were you to Abigail?"
"Midas, I…" David started, stopped, swallowed. He shakily ran a hand through his hair. "You have no idea how much I regret not protecting her."
"Not as much as I do," Midas answered quietly. "But she's dead, and that cannot be undone. Meanwhile, no progress has been made whatsoever on Maurice's death – in fact, I would guess most of you don't even remember about him unless you are planning on using him in an argument." He stood up, the legs of his chair scraping against the wood. "Will my Abigail become that to you as well? A victim to be brought out every time you want to snip at each other, and then forgotten as soon as the argument is over?"
There was a tense, uneasy silence in the room.
"We remember," David protested weakly, "and we care."
Midas gave David a contemptuous look as he walked to the door. "You only care about your friends – that is all you ever have cared about."
And he stalked away.
David half-rose in his seat, as though wanting to follow Midas. But he seemed to think better of the idea, and instead sank back down, and rested his head in his hands.
"Midas is right," Charles said, his words falling heavily into the silence. "Maurice is dead, and he deserves more respect than we have been giving him." He looked up, and met David's gaze without flinching, "Maurice was in my kingdom; getting justice for his death is my responsibility. I will oversee the continued investigation into this, and any resulting trial."
Emma looked at David quickly, and by the stunned expression on his face she could tell he had not expected this. Leah and Stefan, however, looked neither surprised nor pleased, and Emma realized that they must have been expecting, and fearing, this.
Emma shook her head slowly. There was no way Mary Margaret would allow Ruby to be put on trial. There was far too much prejudice against her, the jury would probably find her guilty regardless of what the evidence said. And if Cora was trying to frame her, the evidence against her would be strong, anyway.
Besides, if Ruby went on trial, Leah would probably next demand that Mary Margaret return to jail – and there was no way Emma would agree to that.
"You can waste your time on that," David snapped. "Mary Margaret and I will deal with Cora."
"Yes, because fighting off imaginary enemies isn't a waste of time at all," Leah murmured mockingly. "I do hope you succeed."
David rolled his eyes but didn't answer. Emma wanted to argue more – or possibly she just wanted to punch Leah in the face, wanted to scratch that smug, superior expression out of the redhead's eyes.
"If Cora is as powerful as you say," Ariel asked worriedly, "how will you stop her?"
"With the Blue Fairy's help. And Regina's," David answered confidently, although Emma could see the unease in his eyes. In truth they had no idea how to stop Cora, and had made precious little progress towards figuring it out. And these meetings – sitting here, arguing about laws and rights and responsibilities – were an utter waste of time.
"Oh, the Evil Queen is protecting us now?" Thomas asked skeptically. His mouth twisted into a grimace. "How… reassuring."
Stefan laughed outright. Next to him, Leah muttered sarcastically, "Perhaps she'll be as helpful as Gabriel was."
David furrowed him brow, and Emma asked curiously, "Who is Gabriel?"
Leah paused, frowning slightly, then a sardonic smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Regina's uncle. Her father's brother. He's here, in Storybrooke." She leaned forward, holding Emma's gaze. "Or didn't Regina tell you about him?"
Emma licked dry lips, an acrid taste in her mouth. "No," she murmured angrily, "no, she didn't."
Enchanted Forest, some time ago…
Cora had been taken to her rooms instead of the dungeons, and she had no doubt that Francis expected her to be grateful for this reprieve.
Grateful.
Her lips curled into an ugly snarl at the word.
There were two guards posted outside her door and underneath the large window that took up nearly half the opposite wall. She was as much a prisoner here as she would have been in the dungeons, and her fate still rested with Francis.
No, she thought bitterly. No. Her fate was in her own hands. She would not let these fools decide her future for her.
She closed her eyes and breathed out.
A single candle burned on the table by her bed. It was not yet dark out, and she had no need of this extra light, but the guards had not stopped her from lighting it. Idiots. Hatred and fury rose in her chest, pushing into her throat, choking her. And as she stared at the candle, the flame flickered and twisted and grew.
She concentrated on the memory of her knees pressed against the stone, the laughter in Eva's eyes, Xavier sweeping past her without a word.
Magic is about emotion, Rumplestilskin had said. Summon up that moment that made you so angry…
She pictured Blanche's crown resting on such uninspiring hair, tasted the envy on her tongue at the realization that she would never have that. Fifth in line to the throne – or she was, until Francis gave the order for her arrest. She closed her eyes and saw the courtiers fall back, hiding their laughter behind their hands, as everything she had built crumbled around her.
…you would've killed if you could.
Something inside her snapped, elastic stretching and twisting until it could stand no more. She started, jerking her eyes open in time to see the flame of the candle break free from the wick and rise, hissing and spitting sparks, to the ceiling.
"You always were a quick study."
Cora whirled around at the sound of his voice.
"Rumplestilskin."
The imp idly waved his fingers, extinguishing the candle before the room caught fire. "Cora." He smiled maliciously. "I see your brother-in-law's coronation didn't quite go as you had planned."
She curled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms. "You did this," she accused, mouth dry.
He met her gaze steadily. "I did nothing."
"I don't believe you," she retorted. The things she had said, the words that had fallen from her lips despite every effort to keep them back – she would never have done that. She would never have ruined her life so thoroughly.
Rumplestilskin smiled. "You may believe what you wish," he answered. He reached out and touched her arm, fingers brushing lightly against her skin. There was a strange light in his eyes.
She shivered and took an involuntary step backwards, her chest hollow and empty.
"But your beliefs won't help you now," Rumplestilskin continued. He glanced past her, towards the candle. "All that rage, all that potential… but you've lost your title." He giggled and said in a taunting, sing-song voice, "No crown for you."
"If you wanted to hurt me so badly, why didn't you just kill me?" Cora snapped irritably, turning away from him. She was angry – at him and his smug smile, and at her own weakness.
"Because this is how you crush someone, dearie," Rumplestilskin replied. "You take away the thing that they value most."
And he disappeared abruptly, vanishing just as the door to her room swung open and Francis entered.
Cora turned to her brother-in-law, her face schooled into an expression of superiority and distaste. She would not show vulnerability in front of him.
Francis stared at her, his own expression unreadable. He dismissed the guards with a casual wave of his hand and they withdrew, though not before giving Cora threatening looks, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. They clearly did not trust her, and did not want to leave their king alone with someone who had threatened to kill him.
Good, Cora thought viciously. At least they still believed that she was a threat. At least they were still afraid of her.
"I am not going to have you executed," Francis said once the door had been closed behind them. "You do not need to fear for your life."
"I fear nothing," Cora replied coolly.
Francis ignored her response. "You were given a potion," he said. "The exact nature of the potion is unclear, but it was intended to… to reveal your true colors." He faltered, apprehension flickering through his eyes, then said sardonically, "Apparently, the potion worked quite well."
Cora did not respond – could not respond. She stared at him blankly, still trying to process what he had said. A potion? That was why she had been unable to stop herself? A potion had loosened her tongue, destroyed her life? It made sense, of course, because she had known that she wasn't acting of her own accord, and something must have forced her to-
Fury coursed through her veins. A potion. Magic.
Rumplestilskin.
"But you did threaten me," Francis continued, unaware of her simmering rage. "You did state that you wanted to hurt my family. The potion may have… revealed… your thoughts, but you still had them." He paused, then asked softly, almost prompting, "Or did I misunderstood what you said?"
Cora spun away from him. "If you are not going to execute me, why are you here?" she demanded, pacing back and forth along the floor. "I sincerely doubt you would waste your precious time escorting me to the dungeons."
"I am giving you a chance to defend yourself," Francis said in exasperation. "Tell me that… that you didn't mean what you said. Convince me that this was just a bad day and you haven't been thinking these thoughts all along."
"Convince you?" Cora scoffed. What did he want, for her to beg for her life? Did he truly think she would fall to her knees in front of him? She leveled a spiteful look at him. "So you can pardon me and then boast to all your courtiers about how noble you are?"
"Cora," Francis said in a tone of forced-calm, "do you really want to spend the rest of your life in prison?"
"I would rather rot in a dungeon than beg for your mercy."
"No one is asking you to beg," Francis countered. He took a step closer to her, hand outstretched, almost pleading. "I am only asking for you to…"
"Who gave me the potion?" Cora interrupted, still seething.
Francis looked taken aback by the venom in her eyes, and he hesitated for just a moment. Then he said, "Eva did. She was given the potion by a man who called himself Rumplestilskin. She did not fully understand what it would do."
"Eva?" Cora repeated. "Eva did this to me?" She should have guessed that, should have anticipated that the spoiled brat would be the one to bring her down. And yet somehow the revelation still took her by surprise.
Eva.
Oh, she would destroy the princess of the Northern Kingdom.
"Eva approached me and admitted to what she had done," Francis explained. "She had only wanted the courtiers to see how… petty… you were towards her. She did not know how much the potion would reveal."
"So she's innocent?" Cora interjected heatedly. "Is that what you are saying? She did this to me, but precious Eva couldn't be blamed for anything…" The unfairness of it all was suffocating her. How could Eva, once again, escape any consequences of her actions?
"She did not make you hate us," Francis answered calmly. "She did not make you want to hurt us. You had all those thoughts without her help." He stared at her for a long, silent moment, then said, "Whatever issues you have had with Eva in the past does not excuse what you did to us. To Blanche and myself. What did we ever do to you?"
He spoke dispassionately, detached from the situation, while all of Cora's fury threatened to tear its way free. She wanted to attack him, to scratch at his eyes, to make him bleed.
"Eva is not innocent," Francis continued. "She was wrong in what she did. And she had admitted to that. She pleaded with me to show you mercy."
"Pleaded?" Cora retorted, dismissing the idea without a thought. Her lips curled into a sneer. "Eva does not care about me. Eva does not care about anyone but herself."
Francis did not answer the accusation directly, but instead said, "She admitted to what she had done in front of the full court. All the courtiers, her parents, and King Leopold. She told me where she had gotten the potion, what she had thought it would do. She apologized." He stared at Cora for another long moment then added, "And she asked me to release you."
"Should I thank her for that?" Cora retorted sarcastically.
"Can you honestly tell me that the things you said in the courtyard were not true?" Francis questioned. Again, his voice had a pleading quality. Cora swallowed disbelief as she realized that he wanted her to defend herself, wanted to be able to believe that this was all some sort of misunderstanding. Despite it all, she was still his sister-in-law, still Henry's wife, and he wanted to pardon her and then pretend that the scene had never happened.
He was weak.
Had the situation been revered, Cora would have made him grovel on his knees. She would not have brushed aside his words. She would have skewered him with them, slowly and systematically tearing down everything he was, everything he had worked to become.
She should lie. The potion had clearly worn off by now, and she could spin some story about how it was all a misunderstanding, she'd been confused, she'd had an unpleasant day. In fact, she could probably say that the potion hadn't worked the way Rumplestilskin had intended. He would no doubt accept all of that in relief, willingly turning a blind eye to the fact that her defense would be nothing but lies.
And yet.
"Cora?" Francis prompted.
There was nothing for her in this court anymore. None of the courtiers would flock to her side, flattering her. No matter how many lies she spun, everyone would always shun her, always skirt away whenever she entered a room. They would all look at her with laughter in their eyes, mocking her downfall. She'd live life on the outside of the court, never part of it. Once more relegated to the shadows.
And she would know, everyone would know, that she was only there because of Francis' mercy. She would always be in his debt, always be in his power.
Her pride would not allow that.
She met Francis' eyes and stated flatly, defiantly, "I meant every word I said."
Francis swallowed. He turned on his heel and marched towards the door. It opened as soon as he rapped his knuckles against it, but before he left the room, he turned back to Cora and said, "Then any freedom I grant you, Cora, will be solely because Eva asked me to show you mercy."