With The Tide - Chapter 19 - Pay Head the Squall
Rating: M
Characters/Pairing: Emma Swan/Regina Mills, Emma Swan/Captain Hook, Emma Swan/OFC, Snow White/Prince Charming, Belle/Rumplestiltskin, assorted other characters.
Warnings: Major character death/injury/assorted hardships. THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
Chapter 19
Pay Head the Squall“Everything will be all right in the end. If it’s not all right, it is not yet the end." - Unknown
“Mother, there is a rich lady upstairs,” her son murmured into her hair and Emma stiffened. “She wants to talk to you.”
Emma pulled back, a hand still resting on the back of her son’s scalp. “What did she say her name was, kid?” She was surprised at how easily the endearment came to her tongue, but it slipped off as naturally as if she had been saying it all of her life.
Henry bit his little lip and looked worried. “She said her name was Queen Cora.”
She slowly closed her eyes in horror. Damn.
A few hours earlier
The nightmare started like this:
She couldn’t breathe. The stuff ridges of her corset were laced so tightly to her body it was impossible to take a deep, slow breath. Her feet ached in dainty shoes a size too small. Her skirts were long and heavy, swishing around her ankles. And the crown on her head was ironically far too heavy.
She was ascending some steps. Wooden and roughly hewn, the type that had been put together in a hurry and creaked on every other step. She crossed the weak stage tentatively, towards one large wooden block. The man she feared the most stood beside it, dressed all in black and running a whetting stone slowly along the blade…
“Milady!” A voice said as it shook her shoulders relentlessly. “Milady, wake up!”
Snow groggily shook her head from side-to-side. “What’s going on?” She asked sleepily.
“Only three quarters of an hour until you have dinner with their majesties, milady!” The girl was panicking, flapping her arms about in a gesture of general stress.
“Huh,” Snow grunted and rolled over. She knew that she wasn’t going to be killed. That was good enough for her without attending some fancy dinner.
“Milady!” The serving girl squealed, maybe terrified that her job could be in danger because of Snow’s non-compliance.
Snow groaned and turned back over, yawning as she sleepily pulled the covers off her still-warm body. “Pass me my breeches, then.”
The serving girl swallowed nervously, but made no move to do as she had asked. “What?” Snow demanded after some minutes of waiting.
“His majesty sent you this… with his regards.” The girl held up a long, heavy maroon gown with an intricately designed bodice. It was eerily similar to the one in Snow’s nightmare.
“No way,” Snow refused. “They can take me as I am, or not at all.”
The maid looked almost apologetic as she stood her ground. “I’m sorry, milady, but under the King’s express orders…”
Snow held up a hand to stop her in her tracks. “I get it,” she told her, eyeing the gown with distaste. “Go on… lace me in.”
At least the material felt nice against her skin, Snow mused as she stepped into the thick fabric and pulled it up her legs and over her hips and chest.
“Milady, wait!” The girl exclaimed. In her hands, she was a holding a tiny, tight-looking corset produced from seemingly nowhere. “This, first.”
“You’re joking,” Snow demanded, indignant. “Tell me you’re joking!”
The serving girl, perhaps sympathetic by nature or just accustomed to fussy nobility, went relatively easy on her as she pulled tight the corset laces. But as every breath she took became a little more constricted, Snow began to panic.
This felt exactly like her nightmare had. A heavy dress. Tight corset. Bound in every possible way. Snow’s hand drifted up to the top of her head where she brushed over her scalp. At least she remained without a crown, Snow thought in gratification.
The corset tied and the dress laced firmly to her form, Snow was deemed to be reasonably presentable. Mercifully, etiquette demanded that Queen Cora be both taller and more bejewelled, so Snow wasn’t coerced into heeled shoes or duped into wearing any jewellery. At least being King Leopold’s disinherited daughter had one or two perks.
“Right this way, milady,” the maid pointed down the corridor as Snow stepped forward. But even in walking her gown constricted Snow and she could only take strides which were half of her usual length. The pair of them, bastard Princess and serving girl, went along three corridors and down four stairways before reaching a pair of guards, standing dutifully outside a double doorway.
“Snow White?” One enquired of her in a shallow, nasal tone.
When she nodded, he threw his side of the door open and gestured for her to enter. Snow looked behind her but the maid had disappeared so she bravely gathered her skirts and stepped into the room.
Her first impression of it was that it was quite church-like. The small windows were made from stained glass and candles were dotted on every surface. The walls were decorated with beautiful paintings, but they were all in tiny pieces - a mosaic, Snow thought, the foreign word coming with difficulty. But the centre-piece of this grand, albeit dimly lit space was a long table of at least five feet. As the ruling monarchs of their respective countries, King Leopold I and King Henry IV were sat at either end. Queen Cora, bedazzling in emerald jewellery, sat on King Henry’s right. Snow could see the chair that had been lain out for her, right in the centre, on the opposite side to the Queen.
Struggling to recall the brief, rudimentary etiquette of her youth, Snow merely dipped a curtsy at all three of them before taking her seat. They were probably expecting her to be an ignorant savage, after all. Snow cast a quick glance at her plate; at least she knew how to use cutlery.
“Good evening, daughter,” King Leopold addressed her, making his intended message clear. Henry and Cora might know that she was illegitimate, but not that she had disinherited her father and any privilege that she was entitled to at eighteen.
“Father,” Snow smiled without showing her teeth. “Your majesties,” she inclined her head towards the other monarchs in respect.
“My daughter is a traveller,” Leopold informed the King and Queen, as a footman came forward to pour wine into her goblet. “It was quite the surprise to find her languishing in one of your jail cells.”
Cora’s laughter was tinkling and entirely false, like it had been well-trained. “Adventures are so fascinating,” she commented. “I had quite the little trip myself in midsummer. To a dreadful little island named Tortuga.”
Snow couldn’t help but flinch a little as she heard the word. Her gaze met the Queen’s and the other woman’s eyes narrowed. She knows, Snow realised, her heart thundering like a galloping horse.
Her father laughed boomingly, he was unrestrained and carefree - exactly the opposite of Cora. “What in the Gods’ name were you doing there?” He asked, still chuckling.
“I had almost given up on finding my Regina through normal channels,” Cora recounted, eyes still fixed on Snow. “So I placed a pirate in my employ. A last gamble, you understand. Anyhow, she succeeded.” Cora shook her head, smiling without any real sentiment but irony. “I should have kept her on to guard the ignorant chit.”
“Nonsense,” Leopold slammed his hand down on the table, making the soup bowls quake and ripple. “The search parties will find my wife, don’t you worry.”
King Henry IV spoke for the first time, ladle hovering over his bowl. “Any word on the mastermind of the abduction?”
Snow raised her eyes from the pea green liquid of her own bowl. “Actually,” she commented, eyes glinting with mischief. “I did manage to glimpse under the hood of that courier which carried off the new Queen. I would swear in a court of law that it was Lord Dylan of West Beach.”
Cora looked puzzled, taken momentarily off guard by the unfamiliar name. But both Kings nodded, their expressions grim. “The Nevic Navy admiral,” Leopold growled, throwing his ladle into the bowl dramatically, but only succeeding in splattering his tunic with pea green soup.
“Neverland are responsible for abducting my daughter?” Cora asked softly, a dangerous glint in her eye.
Whoops, Snow thought gleefully to herself; she might have started a war between three nations but perhaps in the ensuing chaos she and Charming could take the Nevic throne and Emma and Regina would get away clean.
But first she had to get through this damned dinner.
Her father, in his usual blunt and unapologetic manner, broke the silence. “With your daughter’s disappearance, second disappearance, I see my chances of producing an heir are rapidly declining.”
King Henry began to mumble polite apologies, as Snow was starting to ascertain was his manner. His wife, obstinate as the King was not, kept her mouth closed and her flinty gaze on Leopold.
“So I’ve decided to make my dearest daughter Crown Princess and Heir Presumptive, at least until your daughter bears me a son.”
Dead silence rang out at King Leopold’s announcement. And then there was a tinkling of breaking glass as Queen Cora dropped her goblet on the stone floor. Henry gaped at Leopold, fish fork halfway to his mouth.
But all Snow felt was shock, the laces of the corset she resentfully wore becoming tighter and tighter around her chest.
Thankfully she was saved from having to make a response; as numb as she was, it was unlikely she would have said anything inoffensive to her father. She was saved by a messenger boy, timidly entering the room. “Yes, boy?” The King demanded, holding out a hand.
“For Queen Cora,” he said in barely more than a whisper, walking over to the other woman and depositing a ragged-looking piece of parchment in her palm.
The Queen, never losing her poise for a moment, gently unfolded the parchment and read it quickly. “Dearest Leopold,” she smiled with her mouth, but not her eyes. “I may have the solution to all of your problems.”
It was only when Emma emerged up onto the main deck that she realised just how severely she had underestimated Queen Cora of Springlands.
The Queen stood, in all her regal glory, in the centre of Emma’s deck like she didn’t have so much as a care in the world. Emma supposed that she didn’t really, considering the legions of men in Springlands colours who were rounding up the last of her crew and putting them all in manacles.
“Henry,” Emma spoke out of the corner of her mouth, pushing her son behind her back. “Go below deck and stay there, do you understand?”
“But mother-“
She gave him a little push, hard enough to convince him that she wasn’t in any way joking. A moment later the warmth at her back disappeared and she exhaled in relief that her son was safe. Then she swallowed, let her fingers nervously wrap around the hilt of her sword and stepped out onto the main deck of The Bloody Blade.
Cora spied her immediately, and once again Emma was forced to re-evaluate the Queen of Springlands. She seemed somehow… sharper, than most others. “Captain Swan…” She beckoned to Emma. “Come closer.”
As loathe as she was to follow Regina’s abhorrent mother’s orders, Emma stepped closer and into the space that had cleared around Cora. And then saw the worst of it all. At Cora’s feet, Regina knelt, hands tied behind her back. They shimmered slightly purple.
Magic.
Emma’s eyes immediately darted up, jumping from presence to presence until she found the one she was looking for. Rumplestiltskin leant, oh-so-casually, against the mast. She knew it was a mistake to let him aboard her vessel, but she had been distracted by the death of her best friend and not thinking straight.
Now she was paying the price of letting her guard down.
“Your majesty,” Emma dipped a very brief bow for Cora. She was at a very distinct disadvantage here, her crew all manacled and at least half a company of soldiers pointing their swords at her. Courtesy was probably the best weapon in her armoury. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The Queen’s answering smile was more predatory than gracious. “No pleasure today, Swan. All business, I’m afraid.”
“No need to hold my men,” Emma tried on her most charming smile, her business smile. The one she wore right before she had the satisfaction of killing an opponent. “Your Majesty knows that I am your most loyal subject. We can negotiate in private.”
King Leopold of Winterlands, whom Emma had not noticed up until that point, stepped forward with his pudgy hand on his sword. “This is not a negotiation,” he growled and Emma could see an inch of steel slide away from the scabbard. Let him try, Emma thought viciously. She’d like another shot to impale the King right through his heart.
“Let me handle this,” Cora held up a hand to stop Leopold in his track, which Emma knew was a bad move the moment she saw it happen. Leopold was not the type to let a woman just take care of things, and he drew his sword.
It was an impressive thing for sure, but Emma curled her own fist tighter around Caliburn’s hilt and knew that she had the superior weapon. Caliburn had once belonged to Summer, the eldest daughter of Zoso. It had been forged before the Split of Nevermore and was part of an ancient prophecy. Emma had won it from a dragon. Leopold’s bit of steel, however finely made, simply could not compare.
But then Leopold had fifty soldiers behind him. Emma had the wind in her hair.
“On your knees, chit,” he ordered. “And I might consider letting you go free once my Queen is back in my possession.”
It was barely even a choice as Emma drew Caliburn. She had never taken shit from anybody, not family, crew, strangers… and definitely not a rapist masquerading as a King.
“I would rather be dead,” she spat, levelling her blade at Leopold and not caring for a second that at least ten soldiers had stepped towards her, murder in their eyes. “Than let you take Regina for your own.”
Leopold opened his mouth, presumably to cut her down, but suddenly his entire being was encased in purple sparks, like the ones on Regina’s wrists, and he was frozen.
“Now, now, children,” Rumple stepped forward, carelessly brushing lint off of his dangerous fingers. “There is no use in killing one another over something neither of you may have.”
Emma opened her mouth to deny the words, but as she tried to part her lips, she found that she couldn’t. The bastard had frozen her, just as he had frozen Leopold.
“Rumple!” Cora protested as she looked at the frozen look of indignation on King Leopold’s face. “Regina is the Queen of Winterlands now, and Leopold’s wife. You cannot -“
Rumple giggled and Emma would have screwed up her nose in distaste if she had had the option. That giggle of his had always irked her. “I would remind you, dearie, that you signed a contract, promising me our first-born child. Regina is mine.”
Cora slowly shook her head from side to side, while a chunk of ice dropped through Emma’s stomach. Our child? Regina was the child of Cora and Rumplestiltskin? She was Bae’s half-sister, and Henry’s aunt? If she were physically able, Emma would have buried her head in her arms and refused to come back up until everything made sense again.
“But - but Daddy…” Regina trailed off, her eyes swinging wildly from Cora to Rumple and back again. “Daddy’s not…?”
“Your father? Henry?” Cora spared a brief glace at the woman on the floor. It was paradoxical almost, how fiercely they were arguing over Regina, and yet how little attention they seemed to pay her. “No, Rumple is responsible for you, dear.”
“Do what you promised twenty two years ago,” Rumple almost sneered at Cora. “She is well past her eighteenth birthday. Hand her over.”
And with this, Emma realised the answer to the question that had been bothering her. Why hadn’t Rumple just taken Regina before, if Cora had promised him their first-born? Cora was the one who had to hand Regina over, to fulfil their bargin, and she should have done it on the Princess’s eighteenth birthday. That was why she had organised a marriage for Regina at seventeen. By running away, Regina had saved herself from that and inadvertently from Rumple… whatever he wanted with his daughter.
“No,” Cora refused heatedly. “She’s not yours, and she’s certainly not Swan’s.” At this she casts a disdainful glance at Emma. “She’s King Leopold’s wife and above all else, she is my daughter!”
Rumple’s hand lit up in flames and Emma was suddenly sure that everything was going to go wrong and Cora drew a knife from somewhere - Regina screamed - Rumple yelled - and suddenly Emma was free and running forward…
“SHE’S MINE!” Cora screamed repeatedly somewhere in the background and Emma dropped to the ground and Leopold was shouting and yelling…
Regina gargled, blood spilling from her lips. “Emma…”
The Captain dropped to her knees and held her lover’s head in her hands as gently as she could. Cora’s knife was buried in her chest and she was struggling to breathe. Rage and shock burned through the pirate’s veins and she looked up fiercely at Rumple. “She won’t be anybody’s if you don’t fucking do something!”
Rumple looked with shock at the dagger in Regina’s chest. “There is… something…” he says, looking as conflicted as she has ever seen the magician.
“She’s dying!” Emma’s voice broke on the last word and she was ashamed to feel a tear leak out of her eye and dribble all the way down her cheek. When she looked back up, Rumple had gone and she took his disappearance as confirmation that he wouldn’t do anything to save his and Cora’s daughter, Leopold’s wife, and Emma’s true love.
Emma pressed their foreheads together, tears coming strong and true from her eyes. She was surprised to feel a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Snow crying behind her. The last she had seen her step-mother, she had been trapped behind the gates of the Springland’s castle. But as her lover lay dying in her arms, the exact why and how did not even slightly trouble Emma.
There was a sudden scream from where her crew were being kept and Emma looked up in surprise, to see a sight she had never expected to see. Rumple standing by his son, his heart in his hands. “EMMA!” Bae screamed, his hand over his now empty chest. “STOP HIM. PLEASE.”
But Emma could barely process what the hell was going on and she was too far gone to care about Bae. Rumple dropped to his knees beside her and Regina, who was still breathing, and held up Henry’s father’s heart. “The heart of thing I love most,” he said, not shedding a tear, but looking as emotionally unhinged as Emma had ever known him to be in over two centuries. “I’m going to cast a curse.”
“Will it save her?” It was all Emma wanted to know. She was ashamed to admit that if Bae had to be sacrificed to save Regina, it was a choice she would make in a heartbeat.
“Yes,” Rumple waved his hand and a fire sprung up beside him. It charred the beautiful floorboards of the Bloody Blade, but Emma didn’t even notice. “I need a strand of hair from four evil souls to complete the spell,” Rumple told her, waving a hand to sever a lock of his own hair and throwing it on the fire.
Without hesitation, Emma took her knife from her own belt and cut a lock of her own blonde curls, giving that to Rumple. “Cora and Leopold?”
“They will do,” Rumple nodded, looking down at Regina, whose eyes were no longer open, but whose chest still moved. “Hurry!”
Emma had been too concerned with her lover to notice Cora and Leopold, but now when she was desperately searching for them, she found him standing over her on the stairs of Emma’s vessel, his sword sticking out of her chest. “Kinslayer!” He was yelling. “You murdered my wife!” In a fit of rage and furious that she wouldn’t be able to kill Cora herself, Emma drew Caliburn and thrusted it right through Leopold’s chest.
It slid through delightfully easily. Leopold’s words halted and he fell slowly. Emma grabbed a tuft of hair as he sank to the floor and yanked it right out of his head. Pulling a few strands from Cora as well, Emma hurried back to Rumple and handed over the hair.
Rumple threw it in the fire. Then he took up his son’s heart.
“PAPA!” Bae roared from across the deck. “DON’T-“
Staring fiercely down at Regina’s face, the only way that Emma knew that Rumple had completed the spell was when the yelling abruptly cut off. She chanced a glance upwards at the magician’s face. Green smoke was beginning to rise all around them, obfuscating Emma’s sight.
“What’s happening?” She croaked, voice thick with tears.
“We’re going…” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “Somewhere new. Somewhere where she can be healed.”
Emma breathed in and green smoke filled her nostrils.
She pressed her forehead against Regina’s as the ground dropped away beneath them. Then everything went black and Captain Emma Swan was no more.
Characters/Pairing: Emma Swan/Regina Mills, Emma Swan/Captain Hook, Emma Swan/OFC, Snow White/Prince Charming, Belle/Rumplestiltskin, assorted other characters.
Warnings: Major character death/injury/assorted hardships. THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
Chapter 19
Pay Head the Squall“Everything will be all right in the end. If it’s not all right, it is not yet the end." - Unknown
“Mother, there is a rich lady upstairs,” her son murmured into her hair and Emma stiffened. “She wants to talk to you.”
Emma pulled back, a hand still resting on the back of her son’s scalp. “What did she say her name was, kid?” She was surprised at how easily the endearment came to her tongue, but it slipped off as naturally as if she had been saying it all of her life.
Henry bit his little lip and looked worried. “She said her name was Queen Cora.”
She slowly closed her eyes in horror. Damn.
A few hours earlier
The nightmare started like this:
She couldn’t breathe. The stuff ridges of her corset were laced so tightly to her body it was impossible to take a deep, slow breath. Her feet ached in dainty shoes a size too small. Her skirts were long and heavy, swishing around her ankles. And the crown on her head was ironically far too heavy.
She was ascending some steps. Wooden and roughly hewn, the type that had been put together in a hurry and creaked on every other step. She crossed the weak stage tentatively, towards one large wooden block. The man she feared the most stood beside it, dressed all in black and running a whetting stone slowly along the blade…
“Milady!” A voice said as it shook her shoulders relentlessly. “Milady, wake up!”
Snow groggily shook her head from side-to-side. “What’s going on?” She asked sleepily.
“Only three quarters of an hour until you have dinner with their majesties, milady!” The girl was panicking, flapping her arms about in a gesture of general stress.
“Huh,” Snow grunted and rolled over. She knew that she wasn’t going to be killed. That was good enough for her without attending some fancy dinner.
“Milady!” The serving girl squealed, maybe terrified that her job could be in danger because of Snow’s non-compliance.
Snow groaned and turned back over, yawning as she sleepily pulled the covers off her still-warm body. “Pass me my breeches, then.”
The serving girl swallowed nervously, but made no move to do as she had asked. “What?” Snow demanded after some minutes of waiting.
“His majesty sent you this… with his regards.” The girl held up a long, heavy maroon gown with an intricately designed bodice. It was eerily similar to the one in Snow’s nightmare.
“No way,” Snow refused. “They can take me as I am, or not at all.”
The maid looked almost apologetic as she stood her ground. “I’m sorry, milady, but under the King’s express orders…”
Snow held up a hand to stop her in her tracks. “I get it,” she told her, eyeing the gown with distaste. “Go on… lace me in.”
At least the material felt nice against her skin, Snow mused as she stepped into the thick fabric and pulled it up her legs and over her hips and chest.
“Milady, wait!” The girl exclaimed. In her hands, she was a holding a tiny, tight-looking corset produced from seemingly nowhere. “This, first.”
“You’re joking,” Snow demanded, indignant. “Tell me you’re joking!”
The serving girl, perhaps sympathetic by nature or just accustomed to fussy nobility, went relatively easy on her as she pulled tight the corset laces. But as every breath she took became a little more constricted, Snow began to panic.
This felt exactly like her nightmare had. A heavy dress. Tight corset. Bound in every possible way. Snow’s hand drifted up to the top of her head where she brushed over her scalp. At least she remained without a crown, Snow thought in gratification.
The corset tied and the dress laced firmly to her form, Snow was deemed to be reasonably presentable. Mercifully, etiquette demanded that Queen Cora be both taller and more bejewelled, so Snow wasn’t coerced into heeled shoes or duped into wearing any jewellery. At least being King Leopold’s disinherited daughter had one or two perks.
“Right this way, milady,” the maid pointed down the corridor as Snow stepped forward. But even in walking her gown constricted Snow and she could only take strides which were half of her usual length. The pair of them, bastard Princess and serving girl, went along three corridors and down four stairways before reaching a pair of guards, standing dutifully outside a double doorway.
“Snow White?” One enquired of her in a shallow, nasal tone.
When she nodded, he threw his side of the door open and gestured for her to enter. Snow looked behind her but the maid had disappeared so she bravely gathered her skirts and stepped into the room.
Her first impression of it was that it was quite church-like. The small windows were made from stained glass and candles were dotted on every surface. The walls were decorated with beautiful paintings, but they were all in tiny pieces - a mosaic, Snow thought, the foreign word coming with difficulty. But the centre-piece of this grand, albeit dimly lit space was a long table of at least five feet. As the ruling monarchs of their respective countries, King Leopold I and King Henry IV were sat at either end. Queen Cora, bedazzling in emerald jewellery, sat on King Henry’s right. Snow could see the chair that had been lain out for her, right in the centre, on the opposite side to the Queen.
Struggling to recall the brief, rudimentary etiquette of her youth, Snow merely dipped a curtsy at all three of them before taking her seat. They were probably expecting her to be an ignorant savage, after all. Snow cast a quick glance at her plate; at least she knew how to use cutlery.
“Good evening, daughter,” King Leopold addressed her, making his intended message clear. Henry and Cora might know that she was illegitimate, but not that she had disinherited her father and any privilege that she was entitled to at eighteen.
“Father,” Snow smiled without showing her teeth. “Your majesties,” she inclined her head towards the other monarchs in respect.
“My daughter is a traveller,” Leopold informed the King and Queen, as a footman came forward to pour wine into her goblet. “It was quite the surprise to find her languishing in one of your jail cells.”
Cora’s laughter was tinkling and entirely false, like it had been well-trained. “Adventures are so fascinating,” she commented. “I had quite the little trip myself in midsummer. To a dreadful little island named Tortuga.”
Snow couldn’t help but flinch a little as she heard the word. Her gaze met the Queen’s and the other woman’s eyes narrowed. She knows, Snow realised, her heart thundering like a galloping horse.
Her father laughed boomingly, he was unrestrained and carefree - exactly the opposite of Cora. “What in the Gods’ name were you doing there?” He asked, still chuckling.
“I had almost given up on finding my Regina through normal channels,” Cora recounted, eyes still fixed on Snow. “So I placed a pirate in my employ. A last gamble, you understand. Anyhow, she succeeded.” Cora shook her head, smiling without any real sentiment but irony. “I should have kept her on to guard the ignorant chit.”
“Nonsense,” Leopold slammed his hand down on the table, making the soup bowls quake and ripple. “The search parties will find my wife, don’t you worry.”
King Henry IV spoke for the first time, ladle hovering over his bowl. “Any word on the mastermind of the abduction?”
Snow raised her eyes from the pea green liquid of her own bowl. “Actually,” she commented, eyes glinting with mischief. “I did manage to glimpse under the hood of that courier which carried off the new Queen. I would swear in a court of law that it was Lord Dylan of West Beach.”
Cora looked puzzled, taken momentarily off guard by the unfamiliar name. But both Kings nodded, their expressions grim. “The Nevic Navy admiral,” Leopold growled, throwing his ladle into the bowl dramatically, but only succeeding in splattering his tunic with pea green soup.
“Neverland are responsible for abducting my daughter?” Cora asked softly, a dangerous glint in her eye.
Whoops, Snow thought gleefully to herself; she might have started a war between three nations but perhaps in the ensuing chaos she and Charming could take the Nevic throne and Emma and Regina would get away clean.
But first she had to get through this damned dinner.
Her father, in his usual blunt and unapologetic manner, broke the silence. “With your daughter’s disappearance, second disappearance, I see my chances of producing an heir are rapidly declining.”
King Henry began to mumble polite apologies, as Snow was starting to ascertain was his manner. His wife, obstinate as the King was not, kept her mouth closed and her flinty gaze on Leopold.
“So I’ve decided to make my dearest daughter Crown Princess and Heir Presumptive, at least until your daughter bears me a son.”
Dead silence rang out at King Leopold’s announcement. And then there was a tinkling of breaking glass as Queen Cora dropped her goblet on the stone floor. Henry gaped at Leopold, fish fork halfway to his mouth.
But all Snow felt was shock, the laces of the corset she resentfully wore becoming tighter and tighter around her chest.
Thankfully she was saved from having to make a response; as numb as she was, it was unlikely she would have said anything inoffensive to her father. She was saved by a messenger boy, timidly entering the room. “Yes, boy?” The King demanded, holding out a hand.
“For Queen Cora,” he said in barely more than a whisper, walking over to the other woman and depositing a ragged-looking piece of parchment in her palm.
The Queen, never losing her poise for a moment, gently unfolded the parchment and read it quickly. “Dearest Leopold,” she smiled with her mouth, but not her eyes. “I may have the solution to all of your problems.”
It was only when Emma emerged up onto the main deck that she realised just how severely she had underestimated Queen Cora of Springlands.
The Queen stood, in all her regal glory, in the centre of Emma’s deck like she didn’t have so much as a care in the world. Emma supposed that she didn’t really, considering the legions of men in Springlands colours who were rounding up the last of her crew and putting them all in manacles.
“Henry,” Emma spoke out of the corner of her mouth, pushing her son behind her back. “Go below deck and stay there, do you understand?”
“But mother-“
She gave him a little push, hard enough to convince him that she wasn’t in any way joking. A moment later the warmth at her back disappeared and she exhaled in relief that her son was safe. Then she swallowed, let her fingers nervously wrap around the hilt of her sword and stepped out onto the main deck of The Bloody Blade.
Cora spied her immediately, and once again Emma was forced to re-evaluate the Queen of Springlands. She seemed somehow… sharper, than most others. “Captain Swan…” She beckoned to Emma. “Come closer.”
As loathe as she was to follow Regina’s abhorrent mother’s orders, Emma stepped closer and into the space that had cleared around Cora. And then saw the worst of it all. At Cora’s feet, Regina knelt, hands tied behind her back. They shimmered slightly purple.
Magic.
Emma’s eyes immediately darted up, jumping from presence to presence until she found the one she was looking for. Rumplestiltskin leant, oh-so-casually, against the mast. She knew it was a mistake to let him aboard her vessel, but she had been distracted by the death of her best friend and not thinking straight.
Now she was paying the price of letting her guard down.
“Your majesty,” Emma dipped a very brief bow for Cora. She was at a very distinct disadvantage here, her crew all manacled and at least half a company of soldiers pointing their swords at her. Courtesy was probably the best weapon in her armoury. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The Queen’s answering smile was more predatory than gracious. “No pleasure today, Swan. All business, I’m afraid.”
“No need to hold my men,” Emma tried on her most charming smile, her business smile. The one she wore right before she had the satisfaction of killing an opponent. “Your Majesty knows that I am your most loyal subject. We can negotiate in private.”
King Leopold of Winterlands, whom Emma had not noticed up until that point, stepped forward with his pudgy hand on his sword. “This is not a negotiation,” he growled and Emma could see an inch of steel slide away from the scabbard. Let him try, Emma thought viciously. She’d like another shot to impale the King right through his heart.
“Let me handle this,” Cora held up a hand to stop Leopold in his track, which Emma knew was a bad move the moment she saw it happen. Leopold was not the type to let a woman just take care of things, and he drew his sword.
It was an impressive thing for sure, but Emma curled her own fist tighter around Caliburn’s hilt and knew that she had the superior weapon. Caliburn had once belonged to Summer, the eldest daughter of Zoso. It had been forged before the Split of Nevermore and was part of an ancient prophecy. Emma had won it from a dragon. Leopold’s bit of steel, however finely made, simply could not compare.
But then Leopold had fifty soldiers behind him. Emma had the wind in her hair.
“On your knees, chit,” he ordered. “And I might consider letting you go free once my Queen is back in my possession.”
It was barely even a choice as Emma drew Caliburn. She had never taken shit from anybody, not family, crew, strangers… and definitely not a rapist masquerading as a King.
“I would rather be dead,” she spat, levelling her blade at Leopold and not caring for a second that at least ten soldiers had stepped towards her, murder in their eyes. “Than let you take Regina for your own.”
Leopold opened his mouth, presumably to cut her down, but suddenly his entire being was encased in purple sparks, like the ones on Regina’s wrists, and he was frozen.
“Now, now, children,” Rumple stepped forward, carelessly brushing lint off of his dangerous fingers. “There is no use in killing one another over something neither of you may have.”
Emma opened her mouth to deny the words, but as she tried to part her lips, she found that she couldn’t. The bastard had frozen her, just as he had frozen Leopold.
“Rumple!” Cora protested as she looked at the frozen look of indignation on King Leopold’s face. “Regina is the Queen of Winterlands now, and Leopold’s wife. You cannot -“
Rumple giggled and Emma would have screwed up her nose in distaste if she had had the option. That giggle of his had always irked her. “I would remind you, dearie, that you signed a contract, promising me our first-born child. Regina is mine.”
Cora slowly shook her head from side to side, while a chunk of ice dropped through Emma’s stomach. Our child? Regina was the child of Cora and Rumplestiltskin? She was Bae’s half-sister, and Henry’s aunt? If she were physically able, Emma would have buried her head in her arms and refused to come back up until everything made sense again.
“But - but Daddy…” Regina trailed off, her eyes swinging wildly from Cora to Rumple and back again. “Daddy’s not…?”
“Your father? Henry?” Cora spared a brief glace at the woman on the floor. It was paradoxical almost, how fiercely they were arguing over Regina, and yet how little attention they seemed to pay her. “No, Rumple is responsible for you, dear.”
“Do what you promised twenty two years ago,” Rumple almost sneered at Cora. “She is well past her eighteenth birthday. Hand her over.”
And with this, Emma realised the answer to the question that had been bothering her. Why hadn’t Rumple just taken Regina before, if Cora had promised him their first-born? Cora was the one who had to hand Regina over, to fulfil their bargin, and she should have done it on the Princess’s eighteenth birthday. That was why she had organised a marriage for Regina at seventeen. By running away, Regina had saved herself from that and inadvertently from Rumple… whatever he wanted with his daughter.
“No,” Cora refused heatedly. “She’s not yours, and she’s certainly not Swan’s.” At this she casts a disdainful glance at Emma. “She’s King Leopold’s wife and above all else, she is my daughter!”
Rumple’s hand lit up in flames and Emma was suddenly sure that everything was going to go wrong and Cora drew a knife from somewhere - Regina screamed - Rumple yelled - and suddenly Emma was free and running forward…
“SHE’S MINE!” Cora screamed repeatedly somewhere in the background and Emma dropped to the ground and Leopold was shouting and yelling…
Regina gargled, blood spilling from her lips. “Emma…”
The Captain dropped to her knees and held her lover’s head in her hands as gently as she could. Cora’s knife was buried in her chest and she was struggling to breathe. Rage and shock burned through the pirate’s veins and she looked up fiercely at Rumple. “She won’t be anybody’s if you don’t fucking do something!”
Rumple looked with shock at the dagger in Regina’s chest. “There is… something…” he says, looking as conflicted as she has ever seen the magician.
“She’s dying!” Emma’s voice broke on the last word and she was ashamed to feel a tear leak out of her eye and dribble all the way down her cheek. When she looked back up, Rumple had gone and she took his disappearance as confirmation that he wouldn’t do anything to save his and Cora’s daughter, Leopold’s wife, and Emma’s true love.
Emma pressed their foreheads together, tears coming strong and true from her eyes. She was surprised to feel a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Snow crying behind her. The last she had seen her step-mother, she had been trapped behind the gates of the Springland’s castle. But as her lover lay dying in her arms, the exact why and how did not even slightly trouble Emma.
There was a sudden scream from where her crew were being kept and Emma looked up in surprise, to see a sight she had never expected to see. Rumple standing by his son, his heart in his hands. “EMMA!” Bae screamed, his hand over his now empty chest. “STOP HIM. PLEASE.”
But Emma could barely process what the hell was going on and she was too far gone to care about Bae. Rumple dropped to his knees beside her and Regina, who was still breathing, and held up Henry’s father’s heart. “The heart of thing I love most,” he said, not shedding a tear, but looking as emotionally unhinged as Emma had ever known him to be in over two centuries. “I’m going to cast a curse.”
“Will it save her?” It was all Emma wanted to know. She was ashamed to admit that if Bae had to be sacrificed to save Regina, it was a choice she would make in a heartbeat.
“Yes,” Rumple waved his hand and a fire sprung up beside him. It charred the beautiful floorboards of the Bloody Blade, but Emma didn’t even notice. “I need a strand of hair from four evil souls to complete the spell,” Rumple told her, waving a hand to sever a lock of his own hair and throwing it on the fire.
Without hesitation, Emma took her knife from her own belt and cut a lock of her own blonde curls, giving that to Rumple. “Cora and Leopold?”
“They will do,” Rumple nodded, looking down at Regina, whose eyes were no longer open, but whose chest still moved. “Hurry!”
Emma had been too concerned with her lover to notice Cora and Leopold, but now when she was desperately searching for them, she found him standing over her on the stairs of Emma’s vessel, his sword sticking out of her chest. “Kinslayer!” He was yelling. “You murdered my wife!” In a fit of rage and furious that she wouldn’t be able to kill Cora herself, Emma drew Caliburn and thrusted it right through Leopold’s chest.
It slid through delightfully easily. Leopold’s words halted and he fell slowly. Emma grabbed a tuft of hair as he sank to the floor and yanked it right out of his head. Pulling a few strands from Cora as well, Emma hurried back to Rumple and handed over the hair.
Rumple threw it in the fire. Then he took up his son’s heart.
“PAPA!” Bae roared from across the deck. “DON’T-“
Staring fiercely down at Regina’s face, the only way that Emma knew that Rumple had completed the spell was when the yelling abruptly cut off. She chanced a glance upwards at the magician’s face. Green smoke was beginning to rise all around them, obfuscating Emma’s sight.
“What’s happening?” She croaked, voice thick with tears.
“We’re going…” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “Somewhere new. Somewhere where she can be healed.”
Emma breathed in and green smoke filled her nostrils.
She pressed her forehead against Regina’s as the ground dropped away beneath them. Then everything went black and Captain Emma Swan was no more.