In the Shadow of the Toll Bridge

by Nikstlitslepmur

AU: Something DID jog the memory of our favorite prince that night...but it wasn't the windmill. What would have happened if David Nolan had remembered his REAL life instead of his fake one that fateful night in Gold's shop? What would have happened if David and Mary Margaret had awoken long before anyone else and been left to deal with the monumental task of breaking the curse?

40. Something Precious

DISCLAIMER: I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that ABC's geniuses have given us on Once Upon a Time.

This is a what-if story: The way I figure, something DID jog his memory that night in the pawn shop…but it wasn't the windmill…

In the shadow of the toll bridge

Something Precious

"We have six cells and only three of them filled," Regina spat, pacing in front of her golden chest, feeling anxious as the minutes ticked by.

Circe slid the heavy metal door shut behind her from having just deposited Aurora in the cell block. "That's already half, Regina," she said sweetly. "Surely the others are close behind."

Regina ignored her. "John should have been back with the street rat by now and where the hell is Rodmilla?"

"Perhaps the baby was too much for her to handle," Circe snorted. "It has been a while."

Regina paused mid-stride and glanced sideways at the sultry enchantress. "Shut up."

Circe bowed, turning away from the frantic queen with an understated eye roll. "Suit yourself, Regina. If you derive some sort of satisfaction from pacing back and forth in your secret chamber here, I shall not endeavor to calm your worries. I needn't remind you of course, that we only need one of guardians from each realm to comply with our demands. I for one predict that," she paused and laid her hand proudly over her breast, "the beast will play his part admirably. But I can see how much you must gain from the rather dizzying laps you feel compelled to take around your chamber."

Regina, who merely tolerated those whose help the limits of magic forced her to enlist, had had just about enough of the arrogant sorceress and was about to tell her as much when –

"They've killed mummy!" came a nail-biting screech as Rodmilla's two daughters came bounding past the Council room and into Regina's chamber. "Killed her, Regina! That lousy prince!—"

"Excuse me," said Circe who seemed not the least bit effected by the young women's hysteria nor the news they brought (Rodmilla never was a terribly magical sort. She'd stolen a few wands in her day and tried to make do, but she was a pitiful addition to the Council from the get go and, for a former goddess, not a great loss). Without another word, Circe slunk out of the room.

"Calm down ladies," Regina attempted to adopt a façade of calm, grasping Marguerite Tremaine by the shoulders. But underneath she was shaking with fury. She'd woken up two of the stupidest girls in Seven Gales only at Rodmilla's request who had insisted her daughters be allowed to experience the "fun" of entrapping Ella's baby and destroying their stepsister's happiness. "What happened?"

"You lied!" screamed Marguerite who cradled her slashed arm against her side as Drizella flew past her in a fury, her once neatly coiffed hair now flung about her head in wild strands.

"Thomas is not paralyzed, Regina. He stopped us from taking the baby and drove a fire poker through Mummy's stomach!"

Regina's eyes went wide. Prince Thomas was mobile? And what's more – they now had no collateral from Seven Gales?! "How…when did you—what exactly—"

"An unfortunate setback, ladies," came a deeper, huskier voice as a much larger woman paraded in behind them with her captive in tow, pushing the blubbering sisters aside. "But hardly a crippling blow. Besides, we've nothing to fear with Ursula on the job," she added haughtily, and Regina watched with renewed glee as the sea witched shoved forward the young man she'd dragged in behind her. His hair was wild and unkempt, black and wavy, and he was dressed in one of those denim workman jumpers and black rubber boots with a wool cap and parka thrown over him. "As you can see," Ursula cackled as she ripped off the man's cap to reveal a very confused, very frightened royal. "I've always had my realm under control."

…

"Let me out of here! Please, somebody help me!" screamed the frightened blonde as the door to the cell block slid shut and what little light there was in the dank prison dimmed.

"Dawn, it's all right—"

"HELP!" she shouted again, gripping the bars, ignoring the stares of similar captives standing in the cells facing her. "Please! Who are you? Why are you doing this?!"

"Dawn!" James tried again, crouching down in his cell and reaching his arm toward her through the bars. It had been some time since he'd seen Princess Aurora, but he vaguely remembered a few days he'd spent as 'David Nolan', being tended to by the young nurse. Gods, in this light she looked so frightened…so helpless. Not unlike, he imagined, she had looked when old Maleficent had swooped down in dragon form upon her wedding to Philip and whisked her away to a remote tower of Rosebriar Castle. The story was legendary throughout all three realms – even in the midst of their waging war against Regina and George, news of Philip's triumphant victory over the evil sorceress had reached New Gaia. "Calm down, Dawn, you're with friends," he pleaded with her as her hysterical cries turned to mournful sobs. Finally, the nurse seemed to realize she was not alone in this strange, almost medieval looking cell, and glanced up at the man and woman staring down at her. "R-rose?" she said to the brunette who nodded. "And…David Nolan?" she gasped, having not seen the town's famous amnesiac since his release from the hospital. "Wh-what is going on? Where are we? And who was that—"

"We're somewhere underground, Dawn," Belle explained patiently. "Underneath Storybrooke."

"And that woman was…someone very – " James glanced at his friend and then sighed. "Someone very bad."

"You think?!" Dawn scoffed, pushing herself up from the cold, dirt floor and brushing off her pale-blue hospital scrubs. Frustrated, she tore off the few strands of Christmassy beads and flair she still had hanging around her neck and tossed them in a corner. "She tore through the ER, upending desks, cots, shattering crash carts and shelves and— I've never seen a more volatile display in my life! God, this lady must have taken a whole pharmacy's worth of drugs and—"

"It wasn't drugs, Dawn," James said quietly.

Dawn blinked, thrown off by the interruption of her rant. "What?"

"It wasn't drugs," James said, leveling his gaze. "It was magic."

Belle looked up warily from the corner of her eye, but James shook her off. They were far past the point of gradually easing anyone into the notion of the curse. Aurora's capture confirmed what he and Belle suspected: they were being held as collateral – likely intended to be used in some horrific way against their loved ones, and James was not going to let that happen without putting up a fight. Therefore, they had to work together, so he needed Dawn to believe…and fast.

Dawn's jaw dropped. "What?" she took a step back from the bars. "What are you—"

"Magic, Dawn." Belle nodded, "He's right. And if we're to have a chance of getting out of here, you need to trust us and we need—"

"Wh-what do you mean…magic?"

"Look around you," James gestured to their cell block, careful to remain patient with her. "Does this look like an ordinary jail?"

Dawn indeed glanced at her surroundings, slightly sickened by the dank smell and the ragged, yellowish, carved-out-of-a-rock look of the place. "Nnnnno, but—"

"That's because it isn't. In fact, nothing in this town is ordinary."

"Think, Dawn," Belle offered, crouching back down as Dawn continued to retreat further in her cell. "That woman who took you – she must have done some pretty…frightening things. Things that you've probably convinced yourself you imagined?" It was a guess, certainly, but not a risky one. Belle had a pretty good idea of what Circe could have done to a place like that, especially to the place from which Adam had escaped.

Dawn shook her head, trying to deny the images now creeping back to her brain. "No…no, she was just…just so s-strong—"

"What'd you see Dawn?" James asked. "It's ok to tell us – whatever it is, I promise we'll believe you."

She opened and closed her mouth several times, now completely convinced she was dreaming. But eventually Dawn replied. "S-she…she didn't do anything. She j-just…she waved her hand and…and—"

"And what?" James urged while Belle reached through her bars to steady him.

"And things just…flew across the room."

"Like she was moving things with her mind," James confirmed, and it wasn't a question.

Dawn nodded. "And then the—the computer it…it…"

"It what, Dawn?" Belle coaxed.

"It just…e-exploded," Dawn's eyes went wide as she finished, looking between Rose and David, still expecting looks of astonishment or at least doubt. But they seemed perfectly accepting of this impossible scene she'd just recounted. "But that's…that's crazy…right?"

"No," said James, giving her a comforting smile. "It's not crazy. Not at all. Dawn, did you see anything else? Did she say anything else?"

Dawn shook her head. "No, nothing she—" then she froze, looked down to one side and shook her head. "Maeve," she whispered quietly, her brow furrowing.

Belle rose from her crouch. "Maeve?"

"Who's Maeve?" James muttered.

"The head nurse. Turned me down for a job a few days ago when I was still…you know… 'Rose'."

James looked back to Aurora. "What about her, Dawn? What'd she do?"

But Dawn was still shaking her head and reaching ever so slowly into the pocket of her nurse jacket. The memories were clearing now, the cloud over her mind parting as more of the day's confusing events tumbled into place her head. "She…she grabbed my arm, yanked me away from the admin desk."

"Did she hurt you?" asked James.

Dawn shook her head. "No she…" she closed her eyes, struggling to remember what the old biddy had muttered to her as the strange, dark woman encroached upon them. They're gonna take you, she could practically smell the head nurse's peppermint laced breath whispering in her ear. They're gonna take you now, but you'll be with friends. Trust them. "She said…she said to…trust," she glanced up at Rose and David, both former patients waiting on pins and needles, "to trust …you."

James's grip slid down a bit as the sweat gathered on his palms. "Trust us? She knew about us?"

"What else, Dawn?" Belle added.

As Rose spoke, Dawn's hand finally closed around what some unknown force seemed to be guiding her to retrieve from her pocket; the nurse withdrew an odd, egg-shaped stone, speckled with green and silver flecks. "She…she gave me this. Dropped it in my…pocket." The memory was hazy, though encouraged by her fellow prisoners to embrace what had seemed imagined, the rest of it finished taking shape. "She said I would eventually figure out how to use it and—"

"You know what's crazy?"

Dawn leapt, clutching the egg tightly to her breast as her head darted around her cell. "Wha—what was that?"

James and Belle exchanged worried glances. "What was what?" James asked.

Dawn's gazed juddered upward, dashing around the cell like she was ducking her head from a swarm of angry birds. "Tha-that noise. That—"

"Hearing all that in there, seeing Clancy's face in that picture—"

"What's…what's going on?! Who are you?" Dawn cried, reaching a hand up to claw at her disheveled hair. She looked to David and Rose who were now staring at her surprise. "You don't hear that?"

"—actually makes all of this more believable." The voice in her head continued and it was then that she realized it was familiar. She knew that voice. She would know that voice anywhere. She knew it this morning when he stood behind her, consulting on charts, making her heart flutter with anticipation as he came so close to finally asking her out.

"Trent?" she whispered, then glanced down at the egg-shaped device clutched in her hand. Then she jumped, for the tiny green specks on the egg weren't tiny anymore. In fact, they were glowing. "Trent!" she hissed and clutched it even closer. Somehow she knew – she was certain. Whatever it was that Maeve had given her, this strange looking trinket that weighed no more than a paperweight, was connecting her to Trent.

"Dawn?" James reached toward her cell. "What is that?"

"It's," she gulped, holding tightly to the egg as if she wouldn't dare let go, "it's—"

At that moment, the cell block door wrenched open again and light spilled into the dank corridor. All three backed away from the bars and slunk into the shadows of the cell, holding their breaths for the next shocking turn to come. And sure enough, down the stairs, struggling just as Aurora had been a few moments ago, came a new prisoner, entangled in what seemed to be a large fishing net, and led by a familiar-looking buxom woman, cackling in a deep, husky voice.

"Hello my pretties," she said as she ushered the awkward, stumbling young man in her clutches to the cell beside Aurora's. With a solid yank, she tore open the jail bars with her chunky arms, flung the lad inside, and clanged the door shut. It was a moment after the young man worked himself out of the netting before James recognized him. He gasped but was careful not to say anything in this new villain's presence. The woman turned, surveyed the six cells, all occupied save for two, and nodded to Aurora. "Four out of six ain't bad eh Sugarlips?"

"Who are you?" James grunted, returning to the front of his cell and clutching at the bars. "Another of Regina's brainless minions?"

"Minions?" the woman whirled on him, her eyes lit ablaze, but when her eyes fell on the prince, the tiny flare of anger evaporated so quickly, James was sure he imagined it, for the large-breasted woman before him was laughing. "Oh dear dear dear," she tsked, drawing one red-polished finger down her cheek and resting under her chin as she gave James a once-over. "I forgot how rude you New Gaians can be."

"Why are you doing this?" cried Belle as she stood beside James in her own cell. "Don't you know that Regina is using you?"

The woman sauntered with an exaggerated sway of her hips as she curled her hand underneath Belle's on the iron bar. "Well of course she is, daaaaahling. You think Regina is powerful enough to create this," she gestured upward as if the hideously archaic cells were some great bohemian work of art, "by herself?"

"So I was right," James seethed, gripping tightly to the cell door. "You're sharing magic. Pooling it together."

"Right you are, Angelfish," she said flippantly, sauntering away.

"And us?" he challenged. "How do we play into your little game?"

"You—" the woman started, pointing a bony finger in his direction, but then seemed to think the better of it. "Well," she relaxed, "you'll just have to wait and see." She paused, gave the whole scene a satisfied nod then finally rested her gaze on the dark-haired man she'd newly entrapped. "Ta ta, princey," she sang toward the cell, but the young man seemed not to hear her. "He is quite a catch in't he?" she chuckled to James, snatched her hand away from Belle's cell and headed back up the corridor. The metal door at the top of the stairs slid shut moments later with a heavy clunk.

"Do you know who that was?" Belle asked as they watched her go.

"I've got a pretty good idea," he muttered. He knew of only one evil witch who handled herself with that much flippant arrogance and used terms like 'Angelfish' and 'Sugarlips', and given the man she'd just captured, the woman was almost certainly a humanized version of Ursula. James had never met her of course, but Ariel had told him plenty of stories when they were kids.

James turned toward the newly occupied cell and crouched down. He was about to call to him when Aurora too scooted over. The young man's cell was adjacent to hers and the nurse knelt down quietly down before him.

"Ch-charlie?" she whispered, reaching for the man whose shoulders were hunched and disheveled hair hung down over his eyes. Dawn frowned and withdrew her hand.

"You know him?" James blinked, having already identified who the boy had been.

Dawn looked up. "It's…it's Charlie Fisher. He works down at the docks, the east side marina. Comes in the hospital every so often to—" she tensed, still clutching the egg-shaped ornament she had in her hand.

James had a feeling that whatever she was hearing through the strange device had resumed. "Dawn, focus," he pled. "Comes in every so often to what?"

Dawn sighed. "To work with the deaf kids."

James gasped in horror as his gaze sank to the frightened young man. "You mean he—"

"Can't hear," Dawn shook her head and looked back at the adjacent cell. "Why would they do this to someone like Charlie?" she muttered.

Belle reached through her bars and tapped James's shoulder. "What is it?" she hissed, reading the mortification in the prince's face as clearly as if he were one of her books.

James's eyes fell closed as he rested his head against the bars. "He can't hear," he moaned, wiping his palm tiredly over his forehead. "My Gods—"

"Why, who is he?" Belle urged, giving his elbow a gentle tug.

"That's Ariel's husband. Prince of Lochmere."

Belle gasped. "Prince Eric?"

James nodded. "Prince Eric," he said. And he's deaf…perfect.

…

The tearful reunions continued as the assemblage of allies returned to the cottage following their meeting at the toll bridge. Each of course was brimming with stories, desperate to be among the first to share new information, new updates, new threats. But activity ceased as Snow and Emma led the way into the cottage, Snow expecting to see Sleepy and Dopey alone and waiting and instead finding several more awakened souls gathered in her old home. Doc had returned with Belle's father who was propped up against a pillow in the bed at the far corner of the room – looking a little bewildered, but safe. Sleepy and Dopey were indeed awaiting their arrival impatiently, but not because they were sore about having gotten stuck with guard duty. Sleepy's face split into a wide grin as the rest of the gang filed in behind her. "Snow!" he cried, "look who showed up!"

But Snow was already looking, smiling and tearing up in relief as she laid eyes on Thomas, wheeling his chair up to the round table with his father behind him. To their right stood Marco who went instantly to Archie's side upon his entrance, and directly in front of Snow, on her old rocking chair, sat Ella with little Alexandra snuggled safely in her arms.

The cottage was now, in a word, packed. And it was quite the ordeal of furniture shifting and people shuffling to allow everyone at least some semblance of comfort. Still, no one seemed inclined to complain, when the alternative was being hunted down on the surface by the minions Regina had alleged she would awaken. At the table sat Snow, Emma, Marco, Archie, Grumpy, Thomas, Christopher and Granny. Red took her usual place behind her grandmother, leaning back against the archway that separated Snow's old sleeping area from the sitting room. In the corner, Doc remained with Maurice, while Ella slid the rocker to the foot of the bed, very near to the place where her husband sat at the table. The remaining dwarfs lined up their old dining benches along the wall of the sitting room, while Trent and Matt tried their best to stay out of the way on the periphery, leaning up against the old sink in the kitchen. Aladdin, who of course recognized his friends from their fortuitous meeting on the way back to Agrabah, hovered close by, though he wisely didn't attempt any overt familiarity as Philip and Lucas had clearly not emerged yet. That left Jasmine and Michael Tillman, the latter of which still nursed a bad leg. He settled himself on the opposite side of the one bed, closest to the wall and propped his leg up on a stool. Jasmine, meanwhile, as was her habit, paced in front of the door, peeking every so often into the dark corridor to ensure they had no unwanted guests.

The sheer volume of information being shared was staggering: Rumpelstiltskin's explanation the curse and its weakness, the guardians of magic, Grumpy's report that Adam was now MIA – likely beating Gaston to a bloody pulp – the fate of poor Abigail. The hardest news of all, of course, was the death of Sheriff Graham. Snow gasped, Red cried, Granny, Archie and Marco all hung their heads in dismay. While everyone else took a moment to deal with the grief and shock of it all, Emma glanced up at Matt who was muttering something under his breath to Trent. He startled her though, for while his head was tilted toward his partner's for better hearing, his eyes were on her, and while Emma related the painful story of Graham's demise, she could feel his wordless support across the room. She shook her head and decided to look away, for if she got lost in those eyes again, she'd find herself longing for that eerie fate foretold in her vision – and she had to make damn well sure that that didn't happen.

In fact, Emma realized and scolded herself, what the hell was wrong with her anyway? Graham died with his love for her on his lips and here she was feeling herself falling for a man she barely knew, not even a day later. The very thought shamed her, confused her – this…this just wasn't like her, and she was desperate for it all to end. Maybe when she found Henry, they could get away from this place – take Snow and James and relocate her family down to Charleston or Pensicola – somewhere warm, somewhere free –

"Emma?" Snow gave her a gentle nudge beneath the table, startling her back to earth.

"Hmm, what?" she muttered as conversation had ceased and she became aware of how many people were staring at her expectantly, as if they were waiting for some sort of response. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Snow gave her a sympathetic smile. "It's ok, Emma. We all know how much you…cared for Graham."

Emma started, looked right at Matt again on instinct – who dropped his own gaze – and then turned to her mother. "That's…not…that doesn't matter right now," she spluttered, not at all sure where the conversation had gone, but she was definitely sure she wanted to move on. "What matters now is finding Henry," she glanced over at Michael, "and Ava and Nicholas. And we have to figure out how to keep Regina from crushing any more hearts before tomorrow night, so we can't spend any more time talking about…what we've lost." She felt her voice peter out as she finished her rather lame speech, but as she glanced around the table, she saw nothing but support and agreement. Grumpy, she noticed, even gave her a smirk and a wink as if to say 'Chip off the old block, kid.' "I for one," she said, a bit more reserved, "am open to suggestions."

No one spoke for a moment, not for lack of having something to say, but because no one seemed willing to get the ball rolling. "Well," Granny said at last, clearing her throat, "I think whatever we do needs to start with breaking the curse – like Rumplestiltskin said."

Grumpy shook his head. "No, where we start is getting the queen away from those hearts—"

"Which we can't do unless the curse is broken," the old woman countered.

"How do you figure that?" asked the dwarf.

"Because getting the queen away from her hearts is going to require magic – lots of it," Red chimed in, "and we won't have nearly enough with the majority of the town still cursed."

"And we're going to somehow find two more guardians and restore their happy endings in less than 24 hours?"

"Well, actually we know who—" Emma tried to cut in. But before she could finish, the group became aware of another conversation brewing behind them, a quarrel between the two paramedics getting louder and louder, and they all turned to look just as Matt grabbed Trent's sleeve and pulled him back.

"Just wait—" Matt hissed, but Trent was too quick.

"No, I've had enough," he shrugged out of his partner's grasp. "This stuff is just too crazy!" As he said it, he turned more fully toward the round table, realizing everyone else had stopped talking. An awkward silence followed before Trent held his hands up in a sort of half-apologetic shrug. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but I came here for one reason: to find out what happened to Dawn."

"Davis, just listen," Matt tried again, "There's a lot—"

"No!" Trent whirled on his friend, then turned right back to the group. "No, I'm done listening. No more stories about curses and spells and a-a-and Rumple…Rumple-freakin'-stiltskin! Dawn is out there, ok? She was kidnapped by some sort of drugged up psycho and I'm not about—"

"What did you say?" Emma asked suddenly, springing up from her chair.

"Emma?" said Snow.

"What?" asked Trent.

"Just now…who's out there? Did you say Dawn? As in Dawn Charles? Nurse Charles?"

Trent did a double-take between her and Matt and then replied. "Yeah?"

But Emma's brain was already overloading. That was it! Dawn. That was the woman in her first vision of Matt that morning: the blond princess so obviously playing the role of Sleeping Beauty in Clancy's blocked memory. No wonder Matt had said something about her being "Trent's girl" in her future vision. Finally, she thought with reddening cheeks. Something useful to come from these premonitions. "I knew she looked familiar," she muttered.

"Who?" Snow too rose from the table as her daughter turned to face her.

"Mom, please tell me you brought the book down here."

Snow nodded and gestured toward Christopher who was closest to where it lay on a nearby tea tray. The rest of those gathered watched patiently as Emma opened the book to the story she'd glanced through the night beforeand revealed a stunning oil-painting of Nurse Charles in a lovely blue sleeping gown. "There," she straightened up, pointing down at the page as others moved around her to see.

"Of course!" Snow slapped her palm against her forehead. "Gods, I must have seen her every day in the hospital and never realized."

"What are you—" Trent pushed his way up to the edge of the table and then gasped as he beheld the nurse's eerie likeness in the storybook illustration. "What…" he gulped, his voice far quieter, "what is that?"

Emma sighed, looking to her mother again who gave her a supportive nod. "It's what we've all been talking about, Trent. The curse – the curse that made you all forget who you are." Tentatively, she placed a hand on his back and maneuvered him more directly in front of Henry's book. "Your friend Dawn is…well she's—" she gulped and glanced up, still feeling ridiculous though less so than she had a week ago. "She's Sleeping Beauty."

Trent slowly turned his head, looking incredulous at the young deputy until he realized, as he scanned the rest of the room, not a single expression, not even Matt's, bore the same level of scrutiny. "That-that's…that's just…nuts."

"Look for yourself," Emma gestured down, indicating more pages to be turned, more illustrations of proof. "And if she's really been kidnapped," she went on to the rest of their little council, "that has to be related to the other people who were taken. James and Belle and—"

"Philip," came Trent's voice, suddenly cold and detached as he'd turned the page and found another picture.

Emma's gaze whipped back to Trent. "What? No, Philip is—"

"Is you," Trent ignored Emma, turning slowly and pointing directly at Matt Clancy.

Matt blinked. "What?"

"It's you," he rasped even quieter as he gestured back to the book and several of the group cleared the way for Matt to step up to the table. As the portrait came into view, the fireman felt a huge lump forming in his throat, as if he were running out to treat a victim of a particularly horrific accident. The illustration was another beautifully painted, rather intricate rendition of the famous scene in the well-known fairy tale. The image of Dawn Charles lay sleeping in a dimly lit chamber with her prince leaning over…a prince whose visage might as well have been a mirror for the desperately confused Matt Clancy.

"That's…" he gulped again, "that's not…me—" his voice was shaking.

"Dawn is Sleeping Beauty and you—" Trent looked sharply at his partner— "you're her…prince charming. Why doesn't that surprise me?" And with that, Trent turned away from the table, heading past the group of dwarfs at the back entrance, and slunk into the caverns, Happy trailing after him.

"Trent, wait—" Matt called to him as the rest of the group watched him go, some thoroughly confused, others painfully in the know.

Snow felt especially sad for him as she watched the poor duke retreat towards the underground waterfall. Why indeed, she thought. Why didn't that surprise him? For a man who had been so unwilling to hear more tales of magic and witchcraft, Trent Davis acquiesced quite easily to this particular development –perfectly able to believe Dawn belonged with Matt…rather than himself. The sight was enough to trigger in Snow's mind something Adam had said several hours ago about the book: I fear what it leaves out, he'd said…No one ever knows the whole story.

Matt, meanwhile, stood dumbly in the middle of a circle of stares – more than a dozen people too afraid they might say the wrong thing. He looked down again at the book, thought for a moment then stubbornly shook his head. "It's not me."

"Matt—" Snow tried.

"No," he started rapidly tapping his finger on the page. "No this is wrong. Dawn is Trent's girl. He's been crazy about her for…for years and—"

"Matt, try to understand," said Aladdin, reaching toward his old friend.

"I do understand," Matt whirled on him, then cast frantic looks around the room. "I'm ok with all of this, you know? I have no idea why, but I get it – curses, magic, witches, evil queens, ghosts, goblins – whatever. I'm cool with it. I'm in. But this—" he spun back to the page, paused and then glared at Emma. "This is not me. I'm…I'm not in love…with Dawn."

Emma's heart leapt up in her throat. This speech was frighteningly familiar to her of course – Clancy's vehement denial of his identity, his destiny. "That's," she started slowly, lowering her gaze for she simply could not look at him. "That's what the curse does, Matt," she said quietly. "It makes you think you belong elsewhere. With someone else."

"It made me divorce my husband," came Jasmine's sweet voice, stepping forward and clasping Aladdin's hand.

"And gave my husband a different wife altogether," Snow attempted with a light chuckle.

But Matt was still shaking his head. "And that's all very well and good, but this—" he thrust his finger once more into the picture, as if he might rip it from the binding and crumple it up at any moment. "This is a lie. I'm," he glanced back at Emma, "I'm no prince."

No one said anything for a moment, again feeling awkward and – at least for a frustrated Grumpy and Granny – way off topic. Then finally, it was Christopher who spoke up.

"King," he said softly.

All turned to look at him.

"Excuse me?" Matt blustered.

"You're a king, Philip," he replied. "Not a prince."

"The name's Matt," spat Clancy, throwing his arms across his chest.

"No, son. It's not. And whether or not you loved this woman," he gestured down at the drawing, "changes nothing. You're a guardian of magic. The only one of your generation who would have known since you're the only one who has been crowned. So regardless of whether you approve of your fate, you must accept it…and fast."

"Pop," Thomas reached up from his chair for his father's arm, but Christopher shook his head.

"Emma was right to imply that these abductions are connected. They are indeed." He glanced back up at the group, his gaze settling on Snow. "And we must act quickly. If what these young men are saying is true, if Princess Aurora has been captured along with James," he glanced over at Doc, "and Belle," then he looked from the legendary street rat to his daughter-in-law, "and we know they already triedto take you and Alexandra, I believe I know what the queen is really after."

"What?" Snow, Emma, Red and Granny all asked together.

Christopher sighed, his voice grave as he answered, "Something precious."

Snow started. Why did that sound familiar? "Something…precious?"

"You mentioned that before, back at the house, Pop," said Thomas. "What does that mean?"

The older king took a deep breath, folding one palm inside the other as he glanced down at his granddaughter. "It's the…price all guardians are asked to pay. A test of courage sooner or later that magic inevitably requires." Perhaps moved by the man's rather sage tone, or maybe just wildly curious, the rest of the group – even Matt – sat and listened, wide-eyed as children. Realization amongst those awake collectively dawned that, as Thomas's father and predecessor, here was a man who knew all too well the grave responsibility bestowed on the guardian for Seven Gales. "When a royal is anointed guardian, he or she accepts the responsibility for maintaining the sanctity and the purity of magic," he explained. "That purity, the balance between good and evil must be maintained at all costs, even…" his breath hitched in his throat as he again looked to his son, "even when death hovers at your door, threatening to take from you that which is…most precious."

Thomas's face turned white. "Mother," he rasped. And no sooner had Thomas figured it out than both Jasmine and Snow gasped.

"Yes," said Christopher. "Your mother. You see, death is when temptation to tamper with fate is at its strongest. But magic, we are told by those entrusting its care in our hands, is for –"

But it was Snow who finished, for the words in Aurora's story were now crystal clear, words she could suddenly recall with perfect clarity having been uttered by her own mother: "Magic is for healing nations and maintaining peace…" she murmured quietly, "not cheating death."

Christopher closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Exactly. It's why you will never find a record of any of our bloodlines having sought the protection of a fairy or the power of a golden flower. It's why our deaths are natural, and must run their course. It's why our kingdoms were chosen in the first place. King George, Queen Primrose, even King Midas all descended from families who routinely used magic to alter their fates. And the moment we try to use magic to cheat what fate has planned, the balance between good and evil shifts and our realms are placed at greater risk." Christopher paused, allowing the lesson to sink in to those around him, to even Marco who was a good deal older than Christopher but lacked yet the knowledge of Geppetto. After a time, he continued.

"Had Regina waited any longer, she would have been too late. As it was, you were all only months," he nodded at Snow, then at Jasmine, "some only days before your coronation when the curse was enacted. Her timing on that score could not have been a coincidence. Five out of six kingdoms were crippled by delays in each heir's succession to the throne: Civil war in New Gaia, Jasmine's challenge for her right to rule, Thomas," he glanced at his son, "trapped in Limbo. Never had the very fabric of magic been so vulnerable." He sighed and looked sadly from Snow to Jasmine. "With Leopold slain, Rushdi's declining health and King Triton's crippling prejudice against humanity, I was practically the only guardian left whose watch had not been weakened. And in my grief…I wasn't enough. Now, Regina seeks to pervert that prophecy. To work the warnings of Helios to her advantage. To force you to choose between magic…and something precious."

"Impossible," Granny spat, standing up in almost righteous indignation, though she wasn't quite clear who she was mad at. "How could Regina even know about guardians and Helios and-and—" she looked to Emma. "You told us Rumplestiltskin said the secret isn't even shared between father and son. Only by Helios on the eve of—"

"My father," Snow croaked, sinking to her chair and silencing Lynette. "My father would have told her."

Emma sank next to her mother and squeezed her arm. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," said Snow in barely a whisper. "My father never could see the darkness in Regina's heart. After my mother died, he…he would have entrusted her with the secret…as his new wife and queen."

"It's…it's not his fault," Emma offered lamely, though she realized it was a ridiculous thing to say. Her mother squeezed her hand though in gratitude as Archie cleared his throat.

"Christopher, this…test of something precious. Is it possible that Regina's gross interpretation of the prophecy simply won't work here? The deaths of your wife and Snow's father, as you say, were natural. Is the guardianship still at risk if their loved ones are unnaturally threatened?"

Christopher sighed as he sat back down beside his son. "I'm not sure. It's possible, but I don't know that we can afford to risk it. She can still compel you to willingly relinquish your guardianship to save your loved ones."

"But you said yourself that no one but Philip has been crowned. Shouldn't Regina be going after those left of your generation?" asked Aladdin, stepping closer to the table.

"Again, it's possible, but based on those we're assuming she's abducted, Regina is clearly making certain assumptions about the state of each kingdom. In fact it's very likely that the blackness in her heart prevents her from truly understanding the complexities of guardianship. It would account for her going after Aladdin instead of the more vulnerable Sultan Rushdi." Jasmine visibly clenched as Christopher continued. "Regina doesn't have to fully understand the magic in order to manipulate it…and all of you to her advantage."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as they tried to absorb the magnitude of what they faced. And the silence was deafening. So much so that Matt Clancy couldn't stomach it, and abruptly, he rose from one of the dwarf's stools, stalked over to the kitchen where he'd tossed his coat, grabbed it and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Emma called after him.

"Out," he muttered, moving for the front door which Aladdin and Jasmine immediately blocked. "You mind?"

"You can't leave, Philip," Aladdin attempted the most understanding tone he could for his friend, but the jaded paramedic's eyes would not recognize him.

"I'm not Philip!" Matt blustered, elbowing the street thug out of the way.

"Matt, you have to stay here," Emma rose from the table. "We need you to help break—"

"Look," he spun around, hands splayed in front of him. "You all obviously have some serious…" he hesitated, scrambling for words… "serious shit to deal with, but Trent is right. Sitting around and talking about it isn't gonna help Dawn." Aladdin reached for him again, but Matt's jacket sleeve slipped out of his grasp as Matt headed out and up the dark, stone stairwell to the surface.

Aladdin sighed, squeezing Jasmine's hand as he turned toward the rest of the group. "I'll go after him—"

"No," Emma shook her head. She looked down at her mother. "I'll go, I—" she looked down and sighed, "I think he…I think he might listen to me."

…

Trent could still hear the faint mumblings of the inordinately crowded cottage as he slipped passed the dwarfs gathered at the exit and entered the caverns. Searching for a place to drown out all the ridiculous talk of kings and queens and princes and curses, he perched himself up on the stone basin where the rush of the underground waterfall was at its loudest. Maybe this is all a dream, he thought lamely, wishing he could rewind the clock and go back to that moment at the desk – the last chance he'd had with Dawn before Clancy came in an all hell broke loose. But he wasn't left to his thoughts for long because Joel, the one they were all calling 'Happy', had come out to the basin to join him.

"Look, I'm not gonna take off all right?" Trent muttered, folding his arms over his chest. "I just…needed some air."

Happy offered a sympathetic smile as he hopped up on the basin wall next to his new friend. "If it helps, I understand how you feel," he said cheerfully.

Trent glanced sideways, then rolled his eyes. "Yeah…sure."

"I do!" said Happy. "It's not easy for any of us you know, but I think sometimes," he paused, glanced back at the cottage, then lowered his voice, "sometimes these kinds of things are a lot easier for royals to swallow than those of us 'average' folks."

Trent threw him a questioning gaze. "Royals?" he asked, still unsure what the curious term really meant since there were apparently no less than eight so-called 'royals' inside at the moment.

"You know," Happy chuckled, "princes and princesses? Kings and queens? They forget sometimes that, well…happy endings don't grow on trees."

Happy endings, Trent scoffed. There was that term again. "Whadyou mean?" he asked, only half interested in the answer.

"You know, fighting dragons, damsels in distress, festivals, balls, true-love's-kiss and wedding the prince or princess?" Happy nudged Trent's arm with his own on the last one, "That's all stuff that just…comes with the job, wouldn't ya say?"

Trent shrugged. "I uh…I couldn't say, actually," he mumbled, though he couldn't help but think back on that storybook illustration and cringe.

"Well take it from me then, Trent. It's hard to be one of the, well, regular guys. Folks that don't necessarily have happy ever after's. Folks that need to find their own ways to be happy."

"Yeah?" Trent challenged, "I notice you seem to have…I dunno, found your ever after."

"Yes, but I'm a dwarf," he said matter-of-factly, as if the statement alone were explanation enough.

"So?"

Happy blinked, then smiled. "Well, we've been…around a lot longer than most human folk. Built up a bit more tolerance for this kinda thing."

"This kinda thing? You mean the…the curse?" Trent shifted toward the former bookstore owner.

Happy broke into a wide grin. "Ah ha, so you do believe, eh? We're not so crazy anymore?"

Trent sighed and glanced down at the blue water lapping up against the edge of the basin. "You know what's crazy?" The dwarf leaned in, prompting him to continue. Trent hesitated, then blew out another sigh and shook his head. "Hearing all that in there, seeing Clancy's face in that picture…" he trailed off, dipping his fingers beneath the surface of the basin, drifting back in his mind to all those extra shifts he'd pulled at the hospital just to be near her. "Actually makes all of this more believable."

"Yeah?" Happy brightened, for surely so many folks willing to believe despite still being cursed was a sign of the progress Snow and her family were making. "Why's that?"

Trent shrugged. "It's crazy but…ever since Dawn was taken, I've been asking myself," he glanced back up at Joel with such sad eyes that the so-called Dwarf frowned. "Why didn't I ever go for it? Why did I spend so many years – as long as I can remember really – coming so close and then chickening out?"

Happy nodded, awkwardly reaching out to pat the young man on the shoulder.

"Then when I saw that picture with her and…a-and Matt, I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That's just it," Trent explained. "I just…I somehow always knew that I didn't belong with her. That for some reason, we just…we couldn't be…together. That I didn't deserve her."

Happy continued to pat Trent's arm until the gesture itself began to feel awkward and he pulled back. With another sigh, he made a mental note to speak with Grumpy at some point about these difficult matters of the heart. Most dwarfs weren't really good with this sort of thing.

"You know what I still don't understand though?" Trent asked, his gaze suddenly sharp and focused, though he was looking past Happy now, as if he were remembering something.

"What's that?"

"Maeve."

Happy started. "Maeve? Who's Maeve?"

"The head nurse at the hospital."

"Where Dawn was taken?"

Trent nodded. "If I'm not supposed to be with her…if it's Matt who's this-this prince charming person—"

"King Philip. Prince Charming is actually—"

"Whatever. If he's not me, then why did Maeve send me after her? Why did she send me to find you in the first place?"

The dwarf straightened up and hopped off the edge of the basin. "That's right!" he exclaimed, remembering the other reason he'd sought out this poor Trent fellow in the first place. "I meant to ask you about that earlier. You said back at the Nolans that you'd been sent to find us. This…Maeve woman. She knew about the toll bridge?"

"Yeah," Trent scratched the back of his neck as stray fragments of the strange conversation came back to him. "Said something about my having loved Dawn for over thirty years. Which is, well…nuts cuz I'm only 27 and—"

"Thirty years?!" Happy cried. "S-s-so she knows about the curse!"

"Yeah," said Trent, then he started. "Wait, what?"

"This Maeve must be awake if she's aware how long it's been. 28 years, Trent. That's how long the curse has lasted. That's how long it took for Emma to get back here."

"But if that's true then how—"

"Trent, I need you to think," said the dwarf, abruptly grasping Trent's arms. "Did she say anything else to you? Did she give you any other instructions? Hints? Clues?"

Trent stared blankly, shaking his head more in confusion than denial. But at last he remembered, and looked sharply down at the pocket of his coat. "Wait a second," he mumbled, reaching in his parka. "S-she gave me this—"

And no sooner had his hand closed around the oddly speckled egg, than the sweetest voice in the world sounded in his head: "It's…it's Charlie Fisher. He works down at the docks, the east side marina. Comes in the hospital every so often to—"

"Dawn!?" Trent called, clutching the egg to his heart so tightly he didn't even notice that the faint blue speckled on its hard shell had started glowing.

"Dawn, focus," he heard another voice, this time very faint. "Comes in every so often to what?"

Then Dawn's voice replied, louder, more clearly in his mind. "To work with the deaf kids…Why would they do this to someone like Charlie?"

"Dawn can you hear me?"

But before she could respond, the dwarf plucked the egg from his hand. Immediately, the bright blue glow faded and the egg reverted to dormancy. "Gods and demons," he gaped at its seemingly innocuous shape.

"Hey!" yelled Trent, lunging now for what – though it seemed impossible – was clearly a link to the young nurse. "Give that back. It's—"

"It's witchcraft," Happy muttered, turning from Trent without a word and practically leaping back into the cottage where the meeting had clearly broken up into several smaller conversations. "Snow!" he called across the room to where the princess stood at the front door, talking animatedly with Aladdin and Jasmine. All other chatter subsided as everyone watched Happy cross over to Snow, the strange egg in hand, Trent rushing up behind him. "Snow, look!" he said.

"What's wrong Happy?" she asked, concerned to see so much anxiety in the usually cheerful face.

"What is it?" asked Grumpy, joining them at the door.

"It's Maleficent," replied the frightened dwarf, handing the egg over to Grumpy who inspected it at once. "Trent had it in his pocket. She here, Snow. And she knows everything."

Snow's gaze darted up to Aladdin who spun immediately on his heel and headed out the front door towards the surface. Snow turned back to Happy who was now glancing around the room, looking for the one person in the history of all three realms ever to have bested the infamous witch. "Where's Philip?"

…

By the time Emma reached the surface, chasing after what was turning out to be the fasted damned fireman ever, she was stunned to discover that while they were all swapping stories and debriefing the long day's events, night had both fallen and then passed already, the sun peeking ever so faintly above the horizon, heralding the arrival of a new morning. Jesus, was it Saturday already? "Matt!" she called out to him, then heard the faint rustling of branches nearby. She turned, slightly stunned to find him not stalking away but rather slumped down on the trunk of a fallen tree, just outside the entrance to the caverns. Feeling suddenly as if she were being watched, Emma craned her head to the side and jumped as her gaze fell upon the beautiful, white mountain lion who had guided them down to the cottage. She was perched a ways up the steep incline of red rock, preening and purring like Garfield on an especially lazy afternoon. The majestic animal made no moves to disturb them though, and resumed her languid doze. With a nervous gulp, Emma turned back toward Clancy, wrapped her arms around her middle. "Matt, come back down. It's not safe up here."

Matt scoffed, continuing to stare at the frozen ground now covered with a light dusting of snow. "Safe. That's kind of a relative term now, wouldn't you say?"

Emma looked down and sighed. "Look, I know…I know this is all…a lot—"

"A lot?" Matt stood up, letting out a humorless laugh. "You guys are telling me I'm like the Obi-Wan Kenobi of magic and it's up to me to protect my—realm was it? – from evil witches and wizards. When I woke up this morning, I was a fireman, Emma. I don't think 'a lot' quite covers it."

"I know," she said, frozen leaves crunching under her boots as she joined him by the trunk. "It's the curse, Matt. It's made you forget everything. But you have to believe them. If what Christopher is saying it true—"

"Do you?" he whirled on her, his gaze piercing into hers so deep she found she couldn't look away.

"Do I what?"

"Do you believe them? Do you believe…everything? Come on, Emma. I found you yesterday aiming a gun at the mayor's head, not a wand."

This time Emma did look away, shuddering at the memory of how close she'd come to turning into a cold-blooded killer. But it was all to help Henry, she'd told herself. Saving her son. Surely that was enough to—

"Seems to me you're pretty grounded to this world, not theirs."

"I," she shivered, shaking her head again. "I…wasn't cursed."

Matt glanced over at her, his breath catching in his throat as the wind whipped a strand of her blond hair across her face. Tentatively, he reached out to brush it away, "Emma—" he whispered.

But Emma scooted off the trunk, her heart pitter-pattering despite the distance she now put between them. "I'm not cursed," she repeated, "but you are, Matt. Y-y-you're cursed and we need to get you and Dawn Charles together so you—"

"Ugh!" Matt groaned, pushing himself off the log. Suddenly he was in front of her. "Why do you keep saying that?" he demanded, and she felt his hands close tightly around her forearms.

Emma's eyes went wide. Ohmigod, she thought, the words congealing at the bottom of her throat. "B-because it's…true," she found herself replying before she could think to change her response. Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod! her mind shrieked. Her vision. Her god-dammed vision! Was this it?! Was it going to happen just as she'd seen it play out only hours ago?

No, she thought quickly, staring up into his eyes, his gaze full of that same longing she'd seen in her vision. No, she told herself, panicked. Don't clairvoyant people see the future so they could change the outcome? She could swear she remembered once spending an evening stuck in a cheap motel, watching a marathon of some TV show where the main character did exactly that – he got visions of the future so he could change what happened. Visions that helped him prevent murders, help the police uncover evidence…rescue kids who'd been kidnapped. Henry, she gulped, shaking her head. Her vision had been a warning – nothing more. A way to show her what would happen if she gave into her feelings. If she followed her heart and not her mind, she would ruin any chances of 'King Philip' reuniting with 'Princess Aurora' and securing the protection of magic in his realm so they could break the curse. She would ruin her chances of saving Henry, of saving them all. She could not let that happen. Too much, she thought— "T-too much depends on restoring your happy ending," she said, then mentally kicked herself. No! she scolded. That's what you said last time!

"Ugh!" Matt threw his head back, "There you go again with the happy ending thing. Look, even if I believed all that stuff back there," he pointed back at the cavern. "And I'm not saying that I don't. But I promise you, if I really am th-this prince, king, Philip-person, there's still no way that Dawn is my wife!"

"You just…don't remember," she said lamely, then slammed her eyes shut, turning away from him. No! she cried inwardly. Why was this happening? Why couldn't she stop it? Why couldn't she break free? It felt as if once again, she was trapped in her own mind. Like this was the vision and she was simply reciting lines. "I'm telling you, o-o-once we find her—"

"And I'm telling you," he grabbed her again and spun her around, "curse or no curse, Dawn Charles is Davis's girl, not mine. I think I would know if I'd ever had feelings for Dawn."

"That's the point!" she tried to shrug out of his hold again, but he was holding her too tight. And too close again…way too close again! Her throat closed up and her chest tightened, like she was suffocating, crumbling under the weight of her premonition. She was trying so hard to force herself to respond differently, to fling herself out of his arms, to alter this supposed destiny of theirs, but the vision was now so fresh in her mind, she seemed a slave to its direction. "You wouldn't know," she said thickly, "The curse gave you a new identity. New memories. New—" she tried to explain, the line between herself and what she knew was going to happen blurring just as it had in the vision itself.

"Yeah yeah, some sort of twisted mind-wipe," Matt was saying as his grip on her arms tightened. "I get it. I saw the mayor crush a man's heart to ash yesterday. I can buy just about anything. But I'm telling you," he steadied her, towering over her, and Emma's eyes hazed over. "I'm sure of it. I've never been in love…not yet." As he said it, his voice softened to a low, throaty rumble and his gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth. Holy shit! she thought again, just as she had before. And just like the vision, her brain froze as Clancy's head darted down. His hands moved from her arms to cup her face and he tilted her head back. "Believe me," he said softly, barely above a whisper, "if I have a happy ending…" but he didn't finish. He didn't need to.

Despite the battle waging on in Emma's twisted brain, she couldn't bring herself to pull back. She wanted this. God help her, she wanted this. This wasn't like Graham – it wasn't a gesture of warmth to draw out his own memories and restore his identity. In fact, Emma was fairly certain, this would do the exact opposite. No, she thought, inwardly disgusted with herself. This was for her. Plain and simple. It had been far too long since she'd caved – since she'd wanted to cave. Before she could whisper his name, Matt Clancy drew her into an electrifying kiss…and Emma's world turned white. No! she screamed as the familiar vortex claimed her. No please, she begged as his lips claimed hers, not again…

"Cover me!" cried Philip as he launched himself off one of the pillars descending into the mounting pile of rubble beneath them. He sprinted from one rocky, shaking platform to the other until he'd reached the third floor terrace. He looked behind him and saw Lucas following his lead, having successfully drawn Maleficent's fire enough for Philip to locate safe ground. "Come on!"

Lucas soon joined him on the precipice overlooking the half destroyed courtyard of Rosebriar Castle. What a disaster. He'd be hard pressed to find a surer sign that this wedding had been a bad idea than his betrothed's lunatic aunt showing up just before the vows and transforming into this vicious, fire-breathing creature. What in the hell was this attack even for? What was the woman trying to prove? That she could still pack a punch?

"She said Aurora would be at the top of the tallest tower," Lucas panted, swerving out of the way and just barely missing Maleficent's swipe with her tail. "That's the east tower, yes?"

Philip nodded. Good old Lucas – his right had man, and today best man, to the last. Who else would have volunteered to help take on a two-ton dragon threatening mortal danger to Stefan's entire kingdom should they attempt to revive Aurora? "But the stairwell is blocked. We need another way up." Both of them ducked, and threw their shields over their heads as the dragon's continuous thrashing rained piles of chipped stone and stained glass on their heads. Cackling wildly, Philip could still hear traces of a human laugh in the dragon's hearty roar as they rolled and parried and dodged their way deeper into the castle. She lifted her massive tail and swiped at the royal with a heavy blow that severed a nearby column, though thankfully – once again – one that wasn't essential to the structural integrity of the place.

Philip peered over the rim of his shield and assessed the scene. They'd reached the innner rotunda now, the large circular structure that led to each smaller tower by a series of stairwells that climbed into the heavens. Between him and the east corridor stood the dragon, who herself was easily four or five stories tall. This realization sparked an idea and Philip found himself smiling wickedly despite the dire circumstances. "I think I have another way up," he yelled over the fiery roar of the dragon, pointing his sword at Maleficent's tail, then looking over at Lucas with a cocky expression on his face.

Lucas followed the point of Philip's sword, confused at first, then in open-mouthed horror. "You can't be serious!" he screamed, ducking from beneath more falling debris.

Philip just nodded and broke into a run. "Draw her fire!" he called back to him and then raced after Maleficent's tail while Lucas dutifully ran in the opposite direction, planting himself directly in front of the dragon's mighty torso.

"Oy! Effie!" he yelled, hoping the out-of-place familiarity might sufficiently distract her from his lunatic cousin. "I always knew you'd betray her! You ruddy coward!" It worked.

Maleficent's massive chest heaved in response and her nostrils unleashed a pulsing stream of fire just barely over the head of the duke, a spray of flames that surely would have singed Lucas's hair had he been a mere inch taller.

"Is that all you've got!?" cried Lucas, taunting her now while watching from the corner of his eye the sight of the prince reaching the end of the dragon tail, then climbing aboard. "You're nothing but a spoiled, bitter old maid, you know that?" he said, hoping to hold her attention while Philip actually used the dragon's tail and scaly back as a stairwell, sprinting up her spine to the upper level of the rotunda, beyond the point where the stairwell entrance was blocked. Gods and demons, he thought to himself with an eye roll. The prince actually looked to be enjoying this. He started and juddered his gaze back at the dragon who he expected would be winding up for another massive fire attack. But what he saw instead stopped him cold. She was staring at him. Just…staring. The dragon…sitting still and just…watching now as Lucas stepped toward her, sword raised. Dimly, she seemed aware that Philip had just used her as a ladder, though she didn't seem to mind. No, she just kept staring at him, through a dragon's eyes, yes, but with an expression that was deeply…human. "Come on!" he bellowed, though his voice was shaking. "What are you waiting for?!"

"Lucas, I'm clear!" Philip called from on high, leaning out over the grand space of the rotunda from a tall dome-shaped window in the upper corridor. "Get out of there!"

But before either could react, Maleficent arched one massive claw towards the duke and swept him up, her scaly fingers trapping him in her palm.

"No!" Philip cried out, about ready to jump onto her back and plunge his sword into her neck, but to do so now would further risk Lucas's life if she should drop him or land on her own hand, crushing him to death. "Lucas!" he screamed…and then he too froze in disbelief.

The dragon had not squeezed the life out of his cousin. She did not take Lucas by the ankle and dangle him over the terrace, threatening his demise. In fact, as she swept her claw up, her fingers uncurled, affording Lucas a view of his upward journey as she slowly, carefully, lifted him up to where Philip now stood. She flattened her palm, stretching out her fingers so they bridged the small gap between her hand and the upper hallway window. Philip looked on, dumbfounded, an expression that mirrored his cousin's as Lucas stepped off her palm and joined the prince in the corridor. Then the dragon…smiled. She tilted her snout toward the ceiling, closed her eyes, and in flash of light and color, reappeared beside them in the corridor, human once more – a devastatingly beautiful Lady Maleficent.

The men stood gaping as the dragon reverted to form, re-donning the long, flowing gown of deep violet in which she'd first appeared at the wedding. Her black lips curled into a smile that bore a striking resemblance to the dragon's grin as she brushed off her sleeve, adjusted the black-horned headpiece she'd chosen this morning for show, and cleared her throat, peaking out the window at the destruction she'd wrought below. "Well," she said in a deep voice. "I think that should be sufficient." She glanced back at those she'd cast as heroes in her charade with a satisfied nod. "I never did like this drab rotunda. Now Stefan will be forced to commission its repair, and Leah will hopefully choose a slightly more…opulent mode of décor."

"What are you playing at, Maleficent?" cried Philip, again on the defensive, sword raised.

"Relax my boy," said the sorceress as she stepped toward them, unalarmed by the pointed weapons. "I intend to go out in a blaze of glory for which you will undoubtedly get all the credit you crave. But there are some things I must tell you now before our grand finale." Then she turned her head and stared right into the soul of Lucas. "And you," she leveled an almost accusatory gaze, "must finally admit the truth."

"No," Lucas whispered, mouth hanging open and shaking his head.

"No what? What is she—"

"I-it can't be. She promised me—"

"Do you really expect a woman so desperately in love to keep such a promise when you force her to marry another?" she turned back to Philip and allowed her words to take on their full meaning.

Philip slowly shifted his gaze to his cousin, the weight of Maleficent's speech and the details of the day adding up all too quickly. "Lucas?"

Lucas did not return the look, but remained fixed on Aurora's aunt. "So…all of this—"

"Pure spectacle. Staged for the benefit of having someone else to blame – for you to have to reveal the truth but to do so honorably, in the interest of saving us all," she added with a little extra flourish in her voice. Then she leveled her gaze, a teasing grin on her face. "You really should learn to trust your eyes, duke. We tried to show you with the stable hand's daughter." Then she faced them both. "I am not your enemy."

At that, Philip managed to stop gawking at his cousin and turn back to the queen's infamous sister sorceress. "You've got a funny way of showing it," he spat, raising the remains of his charred shirt off his shoulder – courtesy of her fire-breathing rage.

"I'm sure you have a closet full of spares, Philip," she quipped, then turned to his cousin. "The spell, Lucas. It can be reversed only by true love's kiss. Nothing less will awaken her…that was Aurora's idea."

Philip shot her another accusing look. "And for that you had to destroy Stefan's entire castle?"

But Maleficent simply shook her head with quiet confidence. "Look around you, Philip. The damage is minimal – cosmetic at best. And you will notice I took great care not to actually harm anybody at your ceremony – though I was tempted to get in a good swipe at old Merriweather—"

"And why should we believe this is any less of a trick?" Philip countered, his sword still raised, though from the corner of his eye, he could tell she'd rendered his cousin utterly numb.

She sighed. She supposed she couldn't blame Philip. The local scuttlebutt on 'Mean old Maleficent' had not been favorable over the years. He had no reason to believe that she was in earnest. But the charade would not succeed on any front if they stood here talking much longer. Soon the palace guard would sense the violence had ceased. Stefan would send reinforcements and if they were found chatting like this…"Please try to understand. The spell was Aurora's idea – a way to prove to you, and to everyone else that Lucas is the girl's true love." She paused and looked down at Lucas whose head was now hanging in sorrow. "Whether or not you will take advantage of this opportunity Lucas, is up to you, as you and I both know what other revelations that will entail." Lucas's head shot up with a warning gaze, which Philip didn't at all miss but couldn't spare the time to demand another explanation.

"And ripping up the palace to shreds? That was Aurora's idea too?" Philip spat, though finally lowering his sword. If she'd wanted to, she could have ripped him to shreds by now.

"No," Maleficent lowered her gaze. "That was mine," she said quietly. "There is trouble brewing in our realms gentlemen, trouble that far eclipses that of your little love triangle here," she waved her hands at them dismissively and shook her head. "I am sure you have heard of the misfortunes plaguing New Gaia."

"Snow and Regina's civil war? Yes, we've heard," Philip replied tersely.

"Regina is hell bent on having her revenge one way or another. She has commissioned a new war council – a group of adversaries who at one point or another were all defeated by royals currently reigning over the three realms. They're calling it the Council of Rogues."

"And you've been issued an invitation," Lucas muttered gravely, finally breaking his silence.

Maleficent paused, then shook her head, "Not yet, but soon."

"Perfect," Philip scowled, sheathing his sword though keeping his shield up. "Yet one more reason to trust you."

"In a moment, I will return to my dragon form, set myself on fire, and fly out of here screeching in agony in a spectacular display, your Highness," she snapped at him, quickly tiring of his narrow-minded blustering. "You need only confirm that it was you indeed who bested me, and no one will ever be the wiser for it. In doing so, news of my failed siege on the castle will reach Regina's ears and she will invite me into her confidence. That is the reason," she paused and gestured to the fallen pillars and shattered windows, "for all of this."

Philip and Lucas exchanged worried glances, but were both finally seeing the wisdom in her plan. "Why?" was Lucas's only question. "Why purposefully cast yourself as a villain when you never had any intention of harming your niece? Something you swore to do over 18 years ago?"

"That is my business," Maleficent bristled, drawing back and looking as if she would transform at any moment.

"The hell it is," Philip countered, stopping her. "If you want us to go along with this – if you want us to trust you to collaborate with a known enemy, we need a better reason than that."

At last, Maleficent relented, and turned once more to face them. "It's really quite simple, gentlemen. I love my niece." The statement hung in the air, the sincerity of her reply eclipsed by its brusqueness. They remained unconvinced, and Maleficent had to work hard at maintaining her patience and understanding of why this might be so difficult to swallow. "In the old days I was…young, and foolish," she explained at last with a sigh. "And everyone knew I was in love with Stefan." She closed her eyes, sucking in a breath and getting lost in the memories of those painful days of adolescent heartbreak. "Of course, Stefan loved my sister, not me. So when the day came for them to announce their engagement, I…behaved poorly."

"You set the buffet table on fire," Philip reminded her, having heard the story over and over from his own father.

"As I said, I was young and foolish, and could not accept that Stefan had chosen Leah. And…" she sighed again with resignation, "… it did not help matters that everyone knew I had studied dark magic. The night of the banquet, I allowed my emotions to get the better of me and lost control of my powers. The fire was an accident, but no one cared. From that day on, I was branded a sorceress and banished from court. I wallowed in bitterness for a long while, but gradually came to accept responsibility for my actions." Maleficent paused a moment and moved solemnly toward the corridor window, looking down in the direction of the courtyard where she knew her sister and brother-in-law were likely bustling with worry, preparing to send in the royal guard to discern the state of Philip's progress. "When Aurora was born, I thought I might effect a reconciliation. As Leah's only sister, it was tradition in our family that I should be named the child's godmother, but Stefan would not hear of it—"

"So you threatened Aurora herself—" Philip finished for her, all too familiar with that story. A seven-year-old doesn't soon forget the first time he sees an evil witch.

"Yes yes," Maleficent said impatiently, "I'm afraid it was a long while before I was able to control my temper. But—" she looked beyond them to where the upper-level corridor met up with the circular staircase leading to Aurora's tower, "Aurora believed in me. When no one else would – not even my own sister – Aurora knew and saw the good left inside of me." She walked right up to Lucas and forced him to meet her gaze. "She saved me, Lucas. So I will do whatever it takes…to protect her." Then she turned to Philip who at last had lowered his own shield. "And whether you end up a bachelor today or a married man, know that you will have a powerful ally in Queen Regina's company…a mole you must keep secret at all costs. For all our sakes."

And just as quickly as she'd transfigured herself into Aurora's 'Aunt Effie', Maleficent reversed the transformation and slipped on the skin of her dragon form with the grace of a swan. Lucas and Philip watched in silence as she soared towards the sky, lit herself ablaze as planned and went screeching off into the distance, the sounds of the distant crowd cheering and trumpets blaring in her wake. Together they stood, at the base of the final stairwell that would lead to Aurora's chamber, neither able to utter a word until at last, Lucas attempted an apology.

"Philip I—"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he snapped, his gaze harsh, his voice tense as he eyed his cousin with almost regal disapproval. "Why were you going to let me go through with marrying the girl you love?!"

"It was the right thing to do—"

"Gods and Demons, Lucas! When I think of what we almost did—"

"No," Lucas protested quietly, "What you must still do."

"What?!" Philip bellowed. "Are you mad? I can't possibly—"

"You can, and you must," said the duke, with a sort of steady resignation in his voice he wouldn't have thought himself capable of. But he had not missed the subtle implications of Maleficent's words…all of Maleficent's words. The truth must indeed come out. The entire truth. With her knowledge of the dark arts and her ties to black magic, she must know everything. And he must now reveal it Philip…quickly. Lucas turned his head and stared at him before he moved toward the stairwell. "This wedding must proceed as planned."

Lucas flew up the stairs faster than Philip had ever known him to be able to run, and before long, the two of them were in the darkened tower, standing before Aurora, the sleeping beauty whose bed was illuminated by only a handful of burning candles in the circular chamber.

"You're crazy if you think I'm still going through this wedding knowing how you feel about her," Philip hissed fiercely, the ambiance of the room prompting him to whisper, though both knew now there was only one sure way to awaken her.

"You were perfectly willing to marry her without loving her an hour ago Philip," Lucas reminded him, careful to keep the bitterness from his voice, though not taking his eyes from his true love, his heart constricting with every painful word. "And you must be so again."

"Gods, you're mad!" Philip stepped further into the room, gesturing toward the princess. "You were mad not to tell me what developed between you two and you're mad now not to take what Maleficent has done and—"

"It's more complicated than that," Lucas sighed, shaking his head. "Something Maleficent obviously figured out. Something I tried to tell Aurora and…and couldn't." At last, Lucas tore his gaze away from Aurora and faced Philip. "Your father's treaty with Stefan depends on a union of the two kingdoms through marriage. In order to ensure the protection and longevity of Rosebriar, that union must take place—"

"But a union can still take place between our families, Lucas. Surely you must see how simple the solution is—"

"It would be simple," Lucas again raised his voice, but more in frustration with himself than the prince. Oh why had he waited so long to tell? After everything Aurora had gone through to change their fates. If he'd only told her, if he'd only made it clear—

"Lucas, you're my mother's nephew – part of the Braemar line. The union will stand if—"

"I'm not the queen's nephew," said the duke with the weight of a courtroom confession in his voice. "I'm not her nephew," he repeated quietly, "I'm not really your cousin."

Philip's jaw dropped and he stared at the man in outright horror. "What?!"

"I have no relation to the Braemar line. If it were to proceed on the basis of my ties alone, any adversary could challenge and void the contract, thereby leaving Rosebriar unprotected and vulnerable to other less…benevolent kingdoms. It's not what your father wanted for his friends and I c-can't—" he sucked in a breath, his voice breaking into pieces along with his heart— "no matter how much I—" he shook his head, finally having to succumb to exhaustion and remorse, collapsing into the one lone stool at the side of Aurora's bed.

Philip gaped at his friend – no…lifelong companion – the man he'd trusted with his life on more than one occasion, a man who bore a striking resemblance to himself. How was it possible this man before him wasn't his cousin? "Lucas," he said quietly, placing his hand on the duke's shoulder. "What…what do you mean you're…not mother's nephew?"

Lucas took another deep breath, tears already welling in his eyes as he forced himself to go back to that awful day. "Your parents saved my life, Philip. My parents. My real parents were…well they were gypsies, but not like," he hurried the explanation, "not like Agrabahn gypsies. They were…" he choked up a bit, managing to lift his gaze, then gulped. "They were warlocks."

Philip gasped, snatching his hand away without thinking, then feeling like an ass. Warlocks were humans who on occasion demonstrated a propensity for dark magic. They worked notoriously as highwaymen, known for being especially vicious to those they victimized. They delighted in the pain they could cause with their magic, their twisted sense of humor evident in the way they hexed those they robbed. The most infamous tale ever told was of a drunken fool who once blustered to his pals that he could fight a whole slew of warlocks 'empty-handed.' Hearing this, a local band of warlocks marked him as a target for mischief, and the poor man was last seen screaming in horror upon suddenly finding that he had…indeed…no hands. Fortunately warlocks were a rare breed and even rarer were those who could control their magic enough to operate it consistently. The physical effects were seldom permanent and could be reversed by any decent witch or fairy, but the emotional effects were long lasting. The were, in a sense, the underlings of the magic-wielding world.

"By the time I was old enough to be working the country roads with my parents, they'd realized I couldn't do what they could do. That I was born without powers. I was treated as an outcast among outcasts and given the scut-work," Lucas went on, his eyes hazing over as he traveled back in his mind. "Standing as lookout, sabotaging carriages, spooking horses – that sort of thing."

Philip looked around, desperate for another stool or chair to sit on as cascades of information fell over him. At last he settled on awkwardly leaning against the edge of the bed, pressing his palms into the mattress though careful not to disturb the sleeping beauty.

"One night, your parents were returning from a survey of new lands they'd acquired from Midas. Their party was much smaller than your average royal entourage and my parents mistook them for average noblemen. Once they realized their error, they tried to…they tried –" his breath hitched in his throat, his mouth turning to ash. The poor legacy left to him by his parents was so shameful, he could hardly bear to relive it.

Sensing his shame, Philip placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Luc. Just tell me."

Lucas sucked in a breath and looked up. "They were afraid having attacked a royal that they would be executed. So they thought the only way out of it was to…to slaughter your parents, make it look like an assassination and then disappear." Philip gasped through his nose, but this time kept his hand firmly on Lucas's shoulder. "Their attempt was a pathetic one – they didn't know Hubert had already contracted Fauna's help from Rosebriar. Two warlocks and a talentless kid are no match for an elder fairy."

"No," said Philip quietly. "I…I'd imagine not."

"In their arrogance and stupidity, my parents were killed by their own deflected spells, but me? Magdalena found me rifling under the luggage rack beneath the carriage. I was so thick, I didn't even realize my parents' con had gone awry. I was just…doing my job." He glanced up at his surrogate cousin and clasped Philip's wrist. "Your mother," he said with overwhelming esteem. "She could see I'd been little more than a slave to them – barely a hired hand…nowhere close to a son. They took me home that day, made up some story about a deceased sister and…well," he looked down, dropping his elbows to his knees, "…you know the rest."

The two were silent for a long while, neither able to put in words what one wanted to say to the other. At last, Lucas looked up at Aurora, leaned forward and clasped her cold hand in his own. "Your parents gave me everything," he rasped. "A family, a real home, a…a brother. How could I betray them here? How could I threaten the security, reputation and honor of not only their kingdom but that of their dearest friends'?"

"Lucas," Philip crouched down in front of him, forcing his gaze away from the princess. "Stefan and Leah are fond of you too. Surely if you just told them—"

"Stefan is likely one of the few people Hubert trusted with the secret of my past, and even if that isn't the case, how could I ask it of them? How could I bring the shame of my lineage to this family?"

"That's your parents' shame," argued the prince. "Not yours. Hell Lucas, you fought beside me in the war against the Snow Queen. You've won victories for all of Braemar. You're the Duke of Glowerhaven for Gods' sake!"

"A small province of mostly farmers," he pointed out. "Hardly the whole of Rosebriar."

"Ok look," Philip huffed, pinching his nose in frustration. "Even if I agreed with you about this – " he glanced up from beneath his furrowed brow— "and I don't by the way, there's still the problem of waking Aurora in the first place." He rose from his knees and stood facing the sleeping princess. "True love's kiss, Luc. That's certainly not going to come from me. And when she sees that you've woken her…when she sees that I've seen—"

"She musn't," said Lucas with sudden resolve. "She can never know."

"What?!"

"Hurry," said the duke as he moved toward the stairwell, hearing the distant voices of knights now rushing up the dilapidated staircase. "The guards will be here soon." He moved back toward Aurora's bed and sat at the very edge, taking her hands once more. "I will wake her, and then you must take my place before she opens her eyes."

"Lucas, are you mad?!" Philip cried. "I'll never be able to keep this from her. I couldn't do that to her. Or you! Are you forgetting she's the one who planned this whole thing so she wouldn't have to go through with this wedding?"

But Lucas was already shaking his head. "If she thinks you love her, she will learn to accept it. Especially if…" he gulped down the vile, bitter taste in his mouth as he realized the full weight of his decision. "Especially when I'm not here."

"This is insane—"

"Philip please!" Lucas implored, shooting him a penetrating glare. "Never have I asked you for anything. I have dutifully stood by you and your every whim. Joined your every adventure. Engaged in every insipid fight you wanted to pick and toured every exotic, toxic, dangerous land you've wanted to explore. Please do this for me now. Honor the wishes of your parents who gave me life. Honor this woman—" he glanced down— "who gave me love. Do for Aurora, for her people, for your father…what I cannot. Please."

Philip stood there gaping at him, stunned by the devastating and powerful effect of his speech. He could do nothing to sway his cousin – yes cousin – for that is what Lucas would always be to him. Blood be damned. His cousin…his brother. The footsteps of the soldiers drew nearer. Time was of the essence. If they were to ensure that history would record this day differently than it had actually happened, they must act now or every sacrifice – both Lucas's and Maleficent's – would be for nothing. With a heavy heart, the prince nodded at last, stood behind the duke and waited for him to awake his beloved…

"Ph-philip?"…

"Yes…It's me"…

"Where…how did you…what—"

"Shh," said Philip, as he slipped a supportive arm beneath the princess's back and helped her sit up. "Relax, Aurora. It's over. You're safe."

"Wh-what happened?"

"Maleficent," explained the prince, looking down at his hands and swallowing hard. "She cast a…a sleeping curse on you and…tried to take over the kingdom—"

"No, I know that but—" she paused, staring back at Philip's eyes. "You," she reached out to him, tentatively cupping his cheek. "You woke me?"

Philip cleared his throat, barely able to utter the words. "Y-yes?" he said, careful not to drop his gaze. 'If she believes you love her, she will learn to accept it,' Lucas had said. He must not give her cause to doubt.

Aurora's brow creased in confusion, but she didn't look away. "With…true love's kiss?"

Philip's lips curled into a gentle smile (though from the corner of his eye, he could see the faint silhouette of a figure descending quietly down the stairs). "Yeah," he forced a chuckle and shrugged. "Who knew?"

Aurora shook her head. "I…I don't…" she muttered, then looked up again, searching her chamber once more. "Where's—"

"Aurora," Philip said softly, removing the blanket that covered her and helping her ease out of the bed and swing her legs over its side. "Come, we should let your father and mother know that you're safe."

"Yes, but—"

"And we have a wedding to finish"…

…When Emma was slammed back to the present, he was still kissing her, over and over again as if he couldn't get enough. She clung to him, for fear of falling over from the disorientation, but very quickly became caught up in the embrace that, for her, had begun hours ago.

He held her face in his palms, caressing the pads of his thumbs along her cheeks with each kiss before tracing his hands down the length of her arms and circling around her waist. Gently, he traced one hand up her back and plunged his fingers through the long waves of blonde hair at her nape. Emma's head was spinning, not only from the overload of information she'd just witnessed – of what, to date, had been her longest vision – but from the sheer intensity of the kiss that her head was screaming for her to end while her heart begged for more. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped as he gently pressed her to him by the small of her back, unrelenting. Her soft cry of surprise electrified him and he deepened the kiss, surrendering to the unshakable knowledge in his own heart that here, finally, was a woman he could love, the kind of woman who was his equal in every way – adventurous, spirited, incapable of taking anyone's crap without one hell of a fight.

In the space of a breath, he whispered her name, his eyes fluttering open as he watched hers grow heavy and fall closed again before he resumed the kiss. He dropped both hands back to her waist and wrapped his arms around her tightly, playing with fire as he dared to coax her mouth open with his tongue, overwhelmed by the passion in his heart. Emma, he thought again as the name filled his soul. Emma…Princess Emma. The daughter of Snow… and…James – holy hell!

Abruptly, King Philip tore his mouth from the young deputy's leaving both of them panting and staring at each other, each too afraid to speak and break the spell. He gazed at her, his eyes hazy and wondrous, as if waking from a dream though feeling like he was still dreaming. Snow. And James. And the others; he remembered them all, but his awakening was not the abrupt jolt and shock to his system that he supposed 'Matt Clancy' might have been anticipating. Philip had simply slipped back into his consciousness, frighteningly aware of the sad state of things for his world and his people. Good Gods, had it really been 28 years? Was the queen really going to use loved ones as leverage against the guardians? Did they truly have so little time before Regina made good on her threat and crushed another heart?

And then there was Emma – on the one hand the daughter of close friends, colleagues…contemporaries. James's daughter! What in the hell was wrong with him? Yet on the other, Fate played by her own set of rules, and not even the reigning prince and princess of New Gaia could argue with results no matter how loudly they would protest. Philip was awake. Awakened by a kiss – true love's kiss. If there were any law of magic more binding, Philip of all people couldn't name it. He'd seen its power. He stood by and watched as Lucas's love restored Aurora, and then he shamefully took the credit for the sake of honor and duty. And now he knew its power first hand. For in his arms was Emma – their savior…his – against all odds and laws of nature – true love.

Emma's musings, at that same moment, were less complex. She too stared in amazement, conscious – at least in some part – of all the same truths both the vision and the kiss had revealed. Yet there was only one thought that occupied her mind as she'd drawn away from kissing 'King Philip'of Braemar: My father's gonna kill me.

The reaction was knee-jerk, involuntary, and she promptly laughed at the absurdity of a nearly 30-year-old woman worrying about what her 'daddy' would think.

Philip cocked an eyebrow as she chuckled and seemed about to reply, when the ground started to rumble beneath them. Breaking apart from the sheer force of the tremor, Emma stumbled over a thicket of brambles and Philip fell against a tree, each trying to grasp for something that might keep them stable. "What the hell?" she spluttered aloud, then looked up. In the distance, Emma noticed the huge canopy of trees beginning to unfold, dense and thick branches arching away from each other like petals on a blooming flower. The trees seemed to be dividing, pulling apart, unraveling, and Emma broke into a sprint at the sight of it.

"Emma!" the medic yelled behind her, and she could tell he was following her. Let him, she thought as the two went deeper into the woods, the cold temperatures around them inexplicably turning warm as they drew closer to the enclave of trees. Running had the effect of countering the quake that continued to rumble beneath them, and soon they were upon the sight, staring open mouthed at the forest teeming with activity, molding, shifting, reshaping itself as if making space for something. Before long, the woods had produced a small, circular glade, and protruding from the center ring, rising slowly from the dirt and twisting upward, was a round, stone basin – a wishing well: the second of three Rumpelstiltskin said would rise as the…guardians...of each realm…awoke – Oh my God! –

Emma whipped around and stared at Clancy, but she knew then it wasn't Clancy anymore. "You…you're—" she stuttered, grasping to regain control of the English language. "Ph-philip?" He nodded, and Emma staggered back.

"See?" he murmured, gesturing to the unearthed wishing well, as sure a sign as any that both guardians of his and Adam's realm were now awake. "Like I said…it's not Aurora. Never was."

…

***Whew! Yay! I've had that flashback in my head for like, a year. Great to finally have it out of my head and on the screen for you to peruse!

Hopefully this chapter clears up the unintentional confusion I guess I raised with my author's note last chapter – in short: no, I have no intentions of introducing 'Swanfire' into this story. It's nothing I have against Neal, it's just not the direction I was ever headed with Emma a year and a half ago when I started this story (LONG before WE ever met Neal).

Plenty more in store for all our heroes (and only one more guardian to go, whoo hoo! Where IS that Ariel, hmm?) We need to check in soon with Henry and his new friends, and we've gotta take this fight to the queen now, but not before we get some more answers out of Maeve!

Stay tuned!

(By the way, bonus points for those of you who correctly guess what sci-fi marathon Emma was watching in that motel! One of my all time favorites btw. Couldn't resist)

(Oh and did anyone see Monsters University and/or Man of Steel? Pretty sweet summer for movies eh?)

Ciao! – Nikstl***