Once Upon A Time: Hook's Adopted Son (Book 1)

by DemonWriterGirl739

Summary:

What if Hook had one other piece of happiness, an adopted son? What if the child was a certain viking? After Hiccup was banished from Berk, he and Toothless travel to the Enchanted Forest where he ends up getting adopted by Killian Jones AKA Captain Hook. Until the day, Regina cast her curse and it took Hiccup and Toothless with the rest of the people to Storybrooke. Now Hiccup, renamed Harry Jones is trapped in Storybrooke, Maine as the town's own animal tracker and helps out everyone in town. Can Emma and Henry break the curse?

Chapter 1: Pilot Part 1

There was an enchanted forest filled with all the classic characters we know. Or think we know.

One day they found themselves trapped in a place where all their happy endings were stolen.

Our world.

This is how it happened...

( In The Enchanted Forest)

Prince Charming rides on his horse at lightning speed to find his lover, Snow White. He raced through the forest as snow began to fall. By the time he reached Snow White in her glass coffin, it was too late. Her mind and body are forever trapped in a death-like sleep. The seven dwarves all gathered at her coffin, sad and miserable. Charming stared at Snow's pale face, her blood-red lips, and her closed eyes.

Charming didn't want to believe that Snow was gone, he ordered the dwarves to open the coffin so he could at least say goodbye. They opened the coffin for Charming. He kneeled to Snow White then he kissed her. Light magic was spread out across the land, chasing away the darkness, and broke the spell.

Snow White awakened from her slumber, gasping for a breath of air. Charming smiled as Snow stared at him "You found me." Snow White spoke. Charming helped her out of the coffin, they stared into each other's eyes. Charming promised her that he would always find her and that promise would never break.

They arrived at the castle where they were getting married. Everyone in the kingdom was present for this special day. Once they said their vows, the preacher made them husband and wife. The whole kingdom cheered, clapped, and smiled at the new king and queen, even Grumpy was happy for them. And they would live happily ever after, or so they thought.

Just as they were about to kiss, the doors opened, and people gasped in fear as they turned to see Regina, the Evil Queen. She wears a dark smile on her face as she storms towards Snow and Charming. She used magic to push away the palace guards, people were now terrified. Snow didn't want her stepmother to ruin her happiness anymore, so she took Charming's sword and pointed it at Regina. "She's not a queen anymore," Snow stated as people whispered. "She's nothing more than an evil witch!"

"You're wasting your time, you've already lost. I will not let you ruin this wedding." Charming claimed.

But the Evil Queen didn't come to ruin the wedding but to give them a gift. Snow told Regina that they wanted nothing from her but she already forced them to have it. Regina spoke her plan, "My gift to you, is this happy, happy day. For tomorrow my real work begins. You've made your vows, now I make mine. Soon, everything you love, everything you all love, will be taken from you forever. And out of your suffering will rise my victory. I shall destroy your happiness if it's the last thing I do."

She walked away from Snow and Charming, knowing that her plan would succeed. Charming refused to let her win, he called out to her and threw his sword straight at her. But the Evil Queen disappeared in a puff of smoke without getting hit with the sword. Charming held Snow tight, hoping that the Queen won't win.

(In New York)

In New York City, a 28-year-old blond-haired woman in a red dress was walking down to a restaurant for a date. Her name is Emma Swan, the lost daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. She has a date for tonight but this is where she'll be catching a guy that tried to skip town with money after his wife bailed him out of prison. Now Emma is using the date as a distraction to catch this guy, she always gets her guy.

Emma walked into the restaurant, looking for the man that asked her on the date until she found him at their table. His name is Ryan, the man that Emma needed to find. They started to have a little small talk until Emma revealed Ryan's past. "Who are you?" he asked.

"The chick who put up the rest of the money," Emma answered, bluntly.

Ryan figured out that Emma was a Bail Bondsperson here to take him in. Within fear, he flipped the table over and then ran out of the restaurant towards his car. Emma was getting tired of this game so she just walked out of the restaurant, into the streets, and watched as Ryan was trying to get away. She had already put a car boot on his tire to stop him. She finally reached me as he was shaking in fear. "You don't have to do this, okay? I can pay you. I've got money." Ryan begged.

"No, you don't. And if you did, you should give it to your wife to take care of your family." Emma suggested.

Ryan hits a nerve in Emma by saying that she knows nothing about family. She slammed his head on the steering wheel, knocking him out cold, and left him. Emma headed inside her apartment after picking up something for her birthday. She placed a small box on her table and opened it. Inside was a vanilla cupcake with white frosting, she took it out and lit a single candle on it. "Another banner year," she spoke, miserably. She closed her eyes then made a wish, she blew out the candle.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and Emma was in for a shock. She opened the door and a ten-year-old boy was staring back at her. He asked if she was Emma but when she said yes, she was not prepared for what the boy said next. "My name is Henry. I'm your son," he said.

Emma was shocked with fear, she never thought her past would catch up to her. Henry walked into her apartment and he explained that he was the baby that she had given up ten years ago. Emma thought he was lying but instead, he had her take him home to Storybrooke, Maine.

(The Enchanted Forest)

In a castle in the enchanted forest, a nine-month-pregnant Snow White was still thinking about Regina's curse. She hardly slept since her wedding day, not even Prince Charming could get her to calm down. "That's what she wants. To get in your head. But they are only words. She can't hurt us." Charming reassured Snow.

"She poisoned an apple because she thought I was prettier than her. You have no idea of what she's capable of." Snow warned Charming.

When Charming asks Snow how he can help her, she wants to talk to The Dark One. He knows more about the curse since he can see into the future. Charming wasn't sure that was a good idea, he was too dangerous. But Snow wasn't completely sure that their child would be safe from the curse. The Dark One can at least try to help them. Charming finally agreed to let them talk to Rumplestilskin, the Dark One.

Charming had one of the guards come with them as they wore cloaks to hide from Rumplestilskin. "When we reach the cell, stay out of the light. And whatever you do, do not let him know your name. If he knows your name, he will have power over you." the guard instructed. He called out to Rumplestilskin that the guard had a question to trick him.

"No, you don't." he said as he climbed down in bars of his cage and mocked Snow and Charming, "They do. Snow White and Prince Charming! You insult me. Step into the light and take off those ridiculous robes."

Snow and Charming obeyed him as he cackled with delight. Charming was about to ask Rumplestilskin about the Queen's curse but he already knows. Snow wanted Rumplestilskin to tell them everything he knew. So he offered to help them but he wanted something from them in return. Charming refused but Snow didn't want to take the chance of losing to the queen so she asked him what he wanted. He wanted the name of their unborn child. Snow took the deal "What do you know?" she asked.

"The Queen has created a powerful curse. And it's coming. Soon you'll all be in prison, just like me, only worse. Your prison, all of our prisons, will be time. The time will stop, and we will be trapped. Someplace horrible, where everything we hold dear, everything we love, will be ripped from us while we suffer for all eternity, while the Queen celebrates, victorious at last! No more happy endings." he explained.

"What can we do?" Snow asked with impatience.

"We can't do anything," Rumplestiltskin stated.

Snow wanted to know who could save them. Rumplestiltskin pointed to the unborn child, he reached out to touch it but Charming whacked it away. "Next time, I cut it off." He threatened Rumplestiltskin.

"The infant is our only hope. Get the child to safety. Get the child to safety and on its 28th birthday, the child will return, the child will find you, and the final battle will begin!" Rumplestiltskin stated as he laughed maniacally.

Charming had enough of this, he and Snow started to leave but Rumple was screaming that he needed to know the child's name. He knows that it'll be a girl but Charming said that it's a boy. "Missy! Missy! You know I'm right. Tell me. What's her name?" he asked Snow.

Snow White wasn't sure whether or not to trust the Dark One. But a deals a deal, so she turned around and gave Rumpe what he wanted, her daughter's name. "Emma. Her name is Emma," she said then left the dungeons.

(In Storybrooke)

After a long drive, Emma and Henry arrived in Storybrooke. However, he refused to tell her his address. She stopped in the middle of the street then got out of her car and slammed the car door close. "Look, it's been a long night, and it's almost... 8:15?" She spoke to Henry and looked at the clock tower.

Henry explained to Emma that the clock hadn't moved in his whole life. Time is frozen in Storybrooke thanks to the Queen's curse. Emma still didn't even believe Henry about the curse or that everyone in the town was a fairy tale character. "Then why doesn't everybody just leave?" Emma asked.

"They can't. If they try, bad things happen." Henry explained.

A man with a black umbrella and a Dalmation saw Henry and ran towards him. His name is Archie Hopper and his dog is named Pongo. He saw Emma and he asked who she was. "Just someone trying to give him a ride home," she answered.

Henry just bluntly told Archie that Emma is his birth mother. Emma asked Archie where Henry lives and he answered "Yeah, sure. Just right up on Mifflin Street. The mayor's house is the biggest one on the block."

"You're the mayor's kid?" Emma asked Henry with her arms crossed.

Henry looked down at the ground with guilt. Archie asked Henry where he was cause he missed their therapy session. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. I went on a field trip." Henry tried to lie.

Archie kneeled to Henry's level to talk to him. "Henry. What did I tell you about lying?" he asked, "Giving in to one's dark side never accomplishes anything."

"Okay. Well, I really should be getting him home," said Emma.

Archie wished them both goodnight and left them. Emma still didn't think this whole curse was real even after looking at Archie who seemed fine. Henry said otherwise, Archie is a fairytale character just like everyone else in this town. No one in the town remembers who they are or why they are here. "All right, I'll play. Who's he supposed to be?" Emma asked Henry.

Henry told Emma that Archie is known as Jiminy Cricket from the story of Pinocchio. "Right. The lying thing. I thought your nose grew a little bit." Emma said, sarcastically.

Henry got back in Emma's car saying that he was not Pinocchio. She got in the car and drove to Henry's house.

(In Enchanted Forest in Snow and Charming's castle.)

Snow White and Prince Charming called a Council Meeting on how to deal with the Queen and her curse. The council is made up of Snow and Charming as the leaders, and the seven dwarves beside them. Jiminy Cricket, Geppetto, and his son Pinocchio on the left side of them. Red Riding Hood and her Granny are on the right side of the dwarves. And finally, right in front of Snow and Charming was the masked dragon rider with his Night Fury.

Charming couldn't just wait for the Queen to attack them so he figured that they should go to war with her. "Fighting is a bad side. Giving into one's dark side never accomplishes anything." Jiminy reasoned with Charming.

"And how many wars has a clear conscience won?" Charming asked, "We need to take the Queen out before she can inflict her curse."

Doc was starting to question if they could even trust Rumplestiltskin but Charming wasn't listening. He kept on telling everyone the plan of attack until Snow told him that the future was written, and this curse was going to happen. Charming refused to believe that good will always win and it can't lose. Snow White was losing hope until Charming reminded her that their child would be the savior and break this curse. The doors opened and in walks two knights bringing in a tree. "What is this?" Charming asked.

The Blue Fairy came flying in, she explained that this tree was their only hope of saving the child. "A tree? Our fate rests on a tree?! Let's get back to the fighting thing." Grumpy remarked.

The masked rider just rolled his eyes and explained that the tree is enchanted, if they can carve it into a vessel, it can ward off any curse. Geppetto volunteered to build the vessel with his boy to help the Charmings. The Charmings were now filled with hope until they heard the bad news about the tree. "There is, however, a catch. The enchantment is indeed powerful. But all power has its limits, and this tree can protect only one." The Blue Fairy explained.

The Charmings knew that one of them would have to go. Prince Charming asked the masked dragon rider if he could be their eyes in the sky to look for the Queen's curse. The dragon rider spoke softly, agreeing to do whatever it took to make sure they were safe. He and his dragon left the room to find the curse. The Night Fury groaned with worry "I know bud. But we promised the Charmings we would help, and that's what we will do." The rider spoke to his dragon.

He took off his mask to reveal himself as fifteen-year-old Hiccup Haddock, the Dragon Tamer in the Enchanted Forest.

(In Storybrooke)

Emma finally arrived at Henry's house, they both got out of the car and they walked to the front door. Henry was begging Emma not to send him back but she refused to let him go and figured that his new parents were worried sick. "I don't have parents. Just a mom and she's evil." Henry said, scared.

Emma thought he was just making this up but he told Emma that his mother only pretends to love him. She thought it wasn't true until the doors to the house opened and inside were three people. A woman with short black hair and wearing a gray dress. An officer who is the sheriff of the town. And finally, a fifteen-year-old boy with a green shirt, brown pants and hair, boots, and emerald green eyes. The woman saw Henry and ran to him, hugging him tight "Are you ok? Where have you been? What happened?" she asked him.

"I found my real mom," Henry said with anger and ran into the house.

The woman looked at Emma with shock. There was tension between them that you could cut with a knife. The sheriff went to check on Henry with his partner. The woman, Regina, offered Emma to come into her house for a glass of apple cider. Emma took her offer and walked in, she waited for Regina with the cider. Regina came into the room with two empty glasses and started to pour in the cider as Emma asked her some questions about Henry. When Regina adopted Henry at three weeks old, the birth mother didn't want any contact with the kid.

"Do I need to be worried about you, Ms. Swan?" Regina asked.

"Absolutely not," Emma assured her.

Regina finished preparing the drinks and handed a glass to Emma. The sheriff and his partner came downstairs telling them that Henry is alright and sleeping in his room. Emma asked about the boy who was with the sheriff, his name was Harry Jones. He's like a big brother to Henry and he helps everyone in town from the sheriff to the school and sometimes even Regina herself. Emma seemed to notice that Harry was by himself when the sheriff left, which made her wonder where the kids' parents were.

Both she and Regina sat in the living room when she brought the question up. Regina explained that Harry lives alone in a small cottage in the woods by himself. No one knows how he came here or who his parents were. She apologized to Emma about Henry showing up at her apartment and dragging her out of her life. Since Regina became mayor, it was hard for her to struggle with juggling her job and being a single mother.

"Am I strict? I suppose. But I do it for his own good." Regina said, "I want Henry to excel in life. I don't think that makes me evil. Do you?"

Emma then told Regina that Henry thinks everyone in the town is a character from his fairy tale book. Regina had no idea what she was talking about. "You know what, it's none of my business. He's your kid. And I really should be heading back." Emma stated.

Emma finished the drink but she was getting a weird vibe from Regina like she was lying about something. Regina led Emma out of the house, as she walked to her car she saw Henry looking out his bedroom window with a sad look on his face and left. Even though Henry couldn't convince her to stay, a familiar creature would try. Emma was about halfway to cross the town line when she saw that Henry left his fairy tale book in her car on purpose. "Sneaky kid," she spoke to herself.

She turned her head back to the road when she saw two wolves standing in the middle of the road. One was gray and white with one black one and one red eye. The other one was wolf-like but it was an all-black husky with acid green eyes. Emma gasped and tried to steer away from the wolves but she went too fast and crashed her car right near the town sign, knocking her unconscious. The storm grew worse as the two wolves howled at the moon and left Emma.

(In the Enchanted Forest)

Inside the nursery for the baby, Geppetto and Pinocchio were hard at work finishing the wardrobe. Snow and Charming were in their room still discussing which one of them would go through the wardrobe. Charming wanted Snow to go through with their baby but she didn't want to leave Charming. They both know that it was the only way "He said it would be on her 28th birthday." Snow White reminded him.

"What's 28 years when you have eternal love?" Charming said to his wife as she sobbed, "I got faith. You will save me as I did you."

Snow kissed Charming with passion as a way of saying goodbye but there would be a change of plans. She felt a sharp pain in her stomach, groaning as Charming asked her what was wrong. Their baby is coming and at the worst time too. On the top of the watchtower, Grumpy and Sleepy were keeping an eye out for the masked dragon rider, well mostly Grumpy was looking. He then heard the call of the Night Fury and spotted the masked rider heading this way. He hit Sleepy across the head to wake him up as the masked rider landed.

"What is it?" he asked.

The masked Rider got off his dragon "The Queen has cast her curse. It's heading this way." He explained.

Grumpy was going to ask how the Queen figured out the curse but they all heard the sounds of thunder and turned around to see black clouds with green lightning rolling this way. Grumpy ordered the masked rider to go find the Charmings and warn them. As the masked rider left, Grumpy rang the bell, shouting "The curse! It's here!"

Hiccup took off his mask and instead of finding the Charming's, he went to find the Blue Fairy. He might not remember everything after the curse hits, but Toothless will. They heard the knights getting ready to battle the Evil Queen's black knights. "Blue Fairy?! I need you!" he shouted.

She heard his cries and hurried towards him. She told him that she knew a spell that could protect Toothless's memories but there was a catch. Toothless will be trapped in the cursed form the Queen puts him in, once the curse is lifted Toothless will have the ability to switch forms to protect Hiccup and the rest of the people here. Hiccup didn't care what the price was, as long as his best friend could still help Emma become the Savoir. The Blue Fairy cast her spell before disappearing.

A part of the curse came into where Hiccup was "Run Toothless! Go find the Charmings! Help them get their daughter to safety!" Hiccup shouted.

Toothless didn't want to leave his rider, his best friend, his brother. Hiccup bent down and pressed his forehead against Toothless's "I promise bud. We will find each other. No curse or cage can keep us apart. Now go and help them." Hiccup stated as Toothless left to find the Charmings'. The curse had taken Hiccup away from here.

 

Chapter 2: Pilot Part 2

(In Storybrooke)

Emma woke up on a bed in a jail cell in Storybrooke. She heard someone whistling in the next cell beside her. She turned around to see a short man in the other jail cell. "What are you looking at, sister?" he asked while being a grouch.

Harry was working on a case file when he heard what the short man said to Emma. "Come now, Leroy. If I'm gonna let you out, you have to behave." Harry said and grabbed the keys and let him go, "put on a smile, and stay out of trouble."

Leroy just faked a smile and left the cell while whistling a tune. Emma looked at him with disbelief that he let this man, Leroy out instead of her. "Let me guess, Regain's drinks? A little stronger than we thought. Graham found you passed out in your car and well, though you were drunk." Harry explained.

"I wasn't drunk. Two wolves were standing in the middle of the road." Emma tried to explain.

Harry didn't even believe Emma's story for a second but suddenly, Regina came running in looking for Graham. Harry told her that Graham went out on patrol for a bit so he'll help her. Henry ran away again and she couldn't find him, she saw Emma in the cell. Regina asked Emma where Henry was but she hadn't seen him since last night. Emma offered to help them find Henry so she could go home.

They headed back to Regina's house and went into Henry's room. Emma looked at his computer but Henry was smart, he cleaned out his inbox. Emma knew a trick to get everything back up on his hard drive. She looked through the many websites that Henry has until she found a receipt for a website called, Whosyourmomma.org which explained how he found Emma. But that website was expensive but somehow he paid with a credit card. "How did he get a credit card? He's only 10," said Harry. Emma pulled out a transaction record for the card and the name Mary Margaret Blanchard appeared.

"Who's Mary Margaret Blanchard?" Emma asked.

"Henry's teacher," Regina spoke with a hint of anger in her voice.

They headed to the school and saw Mary Margaret's students leave as she was cleaning the classroom. She looked a little shocked to see Regina because she thought Henry was home sick with her. But when Regina asked Mary Margaret if she gave Henry to find Emma. She was confused about what Regina was asking so she opened up her purse and started digging for her wallet. "You don't know anything about this, did you?" Emma asked.

"No, unfortunately not." She answered. She opened her wallet and found her credit card missing. "Clever boy. I never should have given him that book."

Regina asked about the book that she kept hearing about. Mary Margaret explained that she gave Henry an old book with the classic fairy tales that everyone knows. Henry is a special boy, smart, and creative but he's also lonely. So Mary Margaret gave Henry the storybook to help him, she said that Henry needed it. "What he needs is a dose of reality. This is a waste of time. Have a nice trip back to Boston, Miss Swan." Regina said, cruelly. She left in anger and knocked down some textbooks on the floor.

Emma and Harry went to help Mary Margaret pick up the books. Emma tried to apologize to Mary Margaret for bothering her but she was fine with it. Something kind of made Mary Margaret remember something but it went away in an instant. "It's okay, I fear this is partially my fault." Mary Margaret stated.

"Ms. Blanchard, it's not your fault. You're trying to help Henry just like me." Harry reassured.

"How's a book supposed to help?" Emma asked.

"What do you think stories are for? These stories, the classics, there's a reason we all know them. They're a way for us to deal with our world. A world that doesn't always make sense." Mary Margaret answered.

They headed out of the classroom and continued their chat. As they chatted, Emma learned that Henry wanted to know why she gave him up. That and mostly Regina, but Harry told Emma that it's just have she was. "Look, I gave the book to him because I wanted Henry to have the most important thing anyone can have. Hope. Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing." Mary Margaret spoke.

"You know where he is, don't you?" Emma asked.

"You might want to check his castle." Mary Margaret answered.

(In the Enchanted Forest)

Back inside Snow and Charming's castle, Snow was screaming in pain and was in labor. The curse was getting closer to the castle and so was the Evil Queen. She was trying to stop the baby from coming but it's not working. Charming was trying to keep his wife calm while Doc was helping with the birth. "The wardrobe's almost finished. Just hold on." Charming spoke in a calm voice. The Queen and her black knight were getting closer to the castle.

Snow White was screaming in more and more pain. Geppetto came into their room to tell them that the wardrobe was ready but they couldn't move Snow to it, she had to give birth to their daughter. Without warning, Toothless came running into their room. He could hear Snow's painful screams, so he went to grab the blanket with Emma's name on it and gave it to Doc to use. "Smart dragon. I can see why the masked dragon rider has a fondness for them." Charming stated.

In the enchanted forest, The Evil Queen and her black knights were riding towards the castle as the curse crept closer. The Queen plans to make sure that the child never leaves the enchanted forest before the curse hits all of them.

Inside the castle, Snow's screams were stopped and replaced with the cries of a newborn child. Emma was now born, she was wrapped in her blanket and held by Snow White. She then realized that the wardrobe can only protect one so their plan failed. They could hear the sounds of their men battling the Queen's black knights. "At least we're together," said Charming.

Snow didn't want to risk it, they had to get Emma away from the curse. "You have to take her. Take the baby to the wardrobe," she said to Charming.

"Are you out of your mind?" Charming questioned his wife.

"It's the only way. You have to send her through. We have to believe that she'll come back for us. We have to give her her best chance." Snow explained while tears were dripping down her eyes.

With that said, Charming kissed Emma on her forehead then just as Snow said goodbye to her, Charming took Emma from her arms. Toothless grabbed a sword in his mouth and gave it to Charming. He takes the sword and has Toothless follow him to the wardrobe. Snow White was crying and sobbing in her bed, not just from the pain from the birth but also from her heartbreak for sending Emma away.

The black knights have already taken out most of the guards, they saw Charming with Toothless beside him and Emma in his right arm. Charming began to fight his way to the wardrobe, he kept on blocking the attacks but one of the knights' swords slashed his arm. Toothless shot a plasma blast at the black knight which sent the knight flying. They both make it to the wardrobe, Toothless stands guard while Charming opens the wardrobe and places Emma inside it. He gave her one last kiss and whispered the words find us as tears fell. Just as Charming closed the wardrobe, he heard Toothless's roar as a sign that the black knights were calling.

Charming tries to fight them off but one of the knights stabs him in the side, making him fall to the floor. Toothless was growling protectively around to where Charming was lying on the ground. The black knights broke down the doors to the wardrobe to get Emma but it was too late, she was already gone. Charming smiled a little, knowing that his daughter was safe and would break the curse. Toothless groaned and purred at Charming, trying to keep him awake.

"It's ok. I'll be fine. Just make sure Emma finds us." Charming spoke softly to Toothless.

Those were his last words before his world became black.

(In Storybrooke)

Henry was down by the shore of the beach, sitting in the wooden castle that he and Harry found when Henry was only nine. Emma and Harry found him and sat down beside him. Emma handed him back the book and they stared out at the clock tower. "Still hasn't moved, huh?" Emma said.

"I was hoping that when I brought you back, things would change here. That the final battle would begin," Henry explained.

"Henry, this is just a story. Emma isn't fighting any battles." Harry spoke.

"Yes, she is. She's here because it's her destiny. She's gonna bring back the happy endings." Henry argued.

"Can you cut it with the book?" Emma asked in a sappy tone.

"You don't have to be hostile. I know you like me. I can tell. You're just pushing me away because I make you feel guilty. It's ok. I know why you gave me away. You wanted to give me my best chance."

"How do you know that?"

"It's the same reason Snow White gave you away."

"Henry, this isn't a fairytale," Harry stated.

"I know, Harry. But your dad did the same thing when he went after the Evil Queen." Henry argued.

"Henry. you know that I don't even have parents. I'm not in your book and neither is Emma." Harry assured.

"Listen, kid, your friend is right." Emma said, "We're not in any book. I'm a real person. And I'm no savior You were right about one thing, though. I wanted you to have your best chance. But it's not with me."

"Please don't take me back there. Just stay with me for one week. That's all I ask. One week, you'll see I'm not crazy." Henry begged.

"I have to get you back to your mom."

"You don't know what it's like with her. My life sucks."

"Oh, you wanna know what sucking is? Being left abandoned on the side of a freeway. My parents didn't even bother to drop me off at a hospital. I ended up in the foster system. And I had a family until I was three, but then they had their own kid, so they sent me back. But at least she wants you."

"Emma, your parents didn't leave you on the side of the freeway. That's just where you came through."

"What?"

"The wardrobe. When you went through the wardrobe, you appeared in the street. Your parents were trying to save you from the curse."

"Sure they were. Come on, Henry."

(In The Enchanted Forest)

Snow White got out of her bed but she was still weak from the birth of Emma but she didn't care, she wanted to see her husband. She groaned and moaned with each step until she reached the nursery. However, she saw Toothless with a sad look on his face as she looked down at Charming who was 'dead'. She was sobbing and kneeled to him and tried to wake him up with a kiss but nothing worked. Toothless nudged Snow's arm "Thank you." she whispered, softly.

"Oh, don't worry, dear." someone spoke. The Evil Queen had walked into the room and she was smiling at the loss of Charming. "In a few moments, you won't remember you knew him, let alone loved him."

Toothless growled and bared his teeth at her. Snow White asked why Regina was doing this but all she said was that this was her happy ending. Tears streamed down Snow's face, and two of the Queen's black knights told the Queen that the child was gone. The Queen looked back at Snow with a scowl on her face, asking where the child was.

"She got away. You're going to lose." Snow said with confidence, "I know that now. Good will always win."

The Queen just smirked, she let out an evil laugh as the room began to shake. Walls started to crack and break away as the curse seeped in. "Where are we going?" Snow asked the Queen.

"Somehow horrible. Absolutely horrible. A place where the only happy ending will be mine." she spoke as the curse took them away.

(Storybrooke)

Emma and Harry took Henry back to Regina, he ran up the stairs and into the house. Regina thanked Emma for finding Henry. Emma told Regina that it was her birthday yesterday, she made a wish not to be alone and then Henry came. "I hope there's no misunderstanding here," said Regina.

Emma looked confused until Regina explained "Don't mistake all this as an invitation back into his life. Ms. Swan, you made a decision 10 years ago. And in the last decade, while you've been... Well, who knows what you've been doing? I've changed every diaper, soothed every fever, and endured every tantrum. You may have given birth to him, but he's my son."

Harry tried to speak "Ms. Mills, if you let her..."

"Quiet! You don't get to speak for her. You don't get to do anything." Regina spoke harshly to Harry as she turned to Emma, "Ms. Swan, you gave up every right to him when you tossed him away. Do you know what a closed adoption is? It's what you asked for. You have no legal right to Henry. And you're gonna be held to that. So I suggest you get in your car, and you leave this town. Because if you don't, I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do. Goodbye, Ms. Swan."

Regina retreated to her house but Emma asked her if she loved Henry. Regina thought it was offensive but she just said that she does love him. Emma didn't believe it for one second but she decided to stay in town for a bit. She asked Harry if there was somewhere she could stay "You can stay at Granny's Inn. She has plenty of room." he suggested.

And so Emma stayed in Storybrooke, little did she know, the old clock tower started up again.

 

Chapter 3: The Thing You Love Most

By morning, the clock tower was still up and running, time had been unfrozen. Everyone looked happy as things changed, well almost everyone. Regina took Henry's book and started flipping through it. She still remembers everything from the curse and she still wants to see if Emma is a part of the book. However, when she hit the final page of the book, some of the pages were missing. The pages looked like they were ripped out by someone. She marched into Henry's room and asked him about the pages. "It's an old book. Stuff's missing. What do you care?" Herny asked.

"I care because you think I'm some Evil Queen. And that hurts me, Henry. I'm your mother." said Regina.

Henry just told her no and finished getting ready for school. She doesn't like what this book or Emma is doing to Henry. She thought both were no longer an issue but once she heard the chime of the clocktower, she got suspicious. Once Henry left for school, Regina headed to the clock tower and stared at it as it still chimed. Archie was walking by with his dog Pongo when they saw Regina looking at the clock. "Look at that, guess those rusty old innards finally straightened themselves out." Archie guessed.

She saw Emma's car and that meant that Emma was still in town. Regina grabbed a basket of apples from her house then headed to Granny's Inn and knocked on Emma's door. Emma opened the door and was a little shocked that Regina was being nice. She even offered Emma an apple and told her to enjoy them on her ride home. Emma revealed that she was staying for a while and that changed Regina's mood. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Henry has enough issues. He doesn't need you confusing him." Regina spoke in a threatening tone.

Emma was just trying to keep her cool around Regina but after being threatened by her in the last 12 hours twice it's only making her stay more. She can tell when people are lying and right now Regina is telling more lies than ever. Emma only wants to see if Henry is okay but Regina tells her that he's fine. "Any problems he has are being taken care of." Regina bluntly stated.

"What does that mean?" Emma asked.

"It means I have him in therapy. It's all under control. Take my advice, Miss Swan, only one of us knows what's best for Henry." Regina replied.

Emma pretended to agree with Regina, she wanted Emma to leave but she wasn't going anywhere. "Don't underestimate me, Miss Swan. You have no idea what I'm capable of." Regina spoke in a threatening voice.

(The Enchanted Forest)

After The Evil Queen threatened to destroy Snow White and Prince Charming's happy ending, she headed for the door. Charming took a chance to throw a sword at the Evil Queen but she used her magic to transport to her castle and led the sword to hit the wall. The Queen's butler asked if she would like a drink. She snapped at him but she did take the drink. "Now that was an awfully big threat." the magic mirror spoke to the queen. "Destroy everyone's happiness? How do you plan on accomplishing that?"

The Evil Queen planned on using The Dark Curse however, she made a deal with someone when she gave away that curse because it was too powerful. She traded it for the curse to put Snow White into enchantment sleep. Her own butler begged her not to do it since the person that the queen gave the curse too, won't be happy to see her. "Since when do I care about anyone else's happiness but mine? Prepare the carriage. We're going to the Forbidden Fortress." the queen stated.

The Forbidden Fortress was the home of the evilest villain in fairytale history. The Dark Fairy, The Mistress of Evil herself, Maleficent. Once the Queen had entered Maleficent's lair, she and Maleficent were talking about the idea of the dark curse over tea. She kept the curse; when the Queen entered, Maleficent greeted her with the detached elegance of a queen in her domain. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm fine," the Queen replied curtly. "And you?"

"If it were me," Maleficent purred, "I'd be simply tortured, watching that flake of Snow so happy. Weren't you about her age when she ruined your wedding?"

"Yes," the Queen replied icily. "Much as you were when Sleeping Beauty got the best of you. But I soldiered on, as will you."

"Hopefully," Maleficent muttered.

The Queen cut to the chase. "I need my curse back."

Maleficent arched a brow. "The Dark Curse? Really? You must know that not even its unholy power can bring your loved one back. Have you considered a pet? They're quite comforting."

Malficanet stroke her little unicorn to prove her point. The Queen's voice hardened. "The only comfort I seek is Snow White's suffering."

Maleficent smirked. "Well, it's her wedding night. I doubt she's suffering right now."

"Enough games!" The Queen's patience snapped. "Hand it over!"

Maleficent sighed. "Must we do this?"

"Alas, we must," the Queen replied darkly.

Thunder roared through the fortress, lightning lit the darkroom as Regina reached for the fireplace. She used some of the flames to form a ball of fire and aimed it at Maleficent. Thankfully, Maleficent moved before it hit her. She used her staff to fight back, the queen threw another fireball and this time Maleficent blocked it with a shield. The Queen had enough, she used her magic to grab every weapon by the fireplace. Instead of aiming it at Maleficent, she aimed it at her pet unicorn. Maleficent saw what the queen was trying to do. She jumped in the way and blocked every weapon that was thrown.

But that left her exposed, the queen used magic to wrap a chandelier around Maleficent and threw her against the wall. The queen took her staff and smashed it to the ground. "Love is weakness, Maleficent. I thought you knew that," she said coldly as she grabbed her curse.

"Don't do this." Maleficent begged, "This curse. There are lines even we shouldn't cross. All power comes with a price. Enacting it will take a terrible toll. It will leave an emptiness inside you. A void you will never be able to fill."

The queen didn't listen to Maleficent's warning, she just took the curse and left her there. The queen then gathered the darkest souls she could find. She explained to them that this curse that she'll enact will help them get their happy ending. She had already put most of the ingredients into the fire, the queen needed a lock of hair from each of them to complete the spell. They didn't trust her at first, "Well then, there are other ways." the queen said with a wicked grin.

She used magic to command the trees and form a barrier around them as no means of escaping. The first the give in was a blind woman whose eyes were sewn shut. The others followed as the queen placed the locks of hair into a basket and threw it into the fire. All that was left was the final ingredient, a prized heart. The queen had her butler hand her the box with the heart, the heart of her childhood steed. "Let my wrath be unleashed," she said as threw the heart into the fire.

The curse begins to grow into a tornado with flashes of green lightning. The queen had done it, she won. But that victory was short-lived, the curse started to break apart and then disappeared as it had never happened. The queen didn't understand, she did everything right but it wasn't enough.

(Storybrooke)

In Regina's garden, she was tending to her apple tree when the town reporter Sidney Glass came to her with the latest news. She was still furious that Emma was staying in town, so she asked Sidney to do a little digging on Emma Swan. "What did you find out about her?" Regina asked Sidney.

"Well, the truth be told, there wasn't much. She spent a lot of time in foster homes. She got into some trouble when she was a kid, but the details are locked up pretty tight. Since then, she's clean. Bounced around all over. The only thing I really learned was that she doesn't like to sit still." Sidney explained.

But that changed when she found out about Henry. Sidney even revealed that Emma had Henry while she was still in Phoenix. But it wasn't enough to convince Regina who Emma was. He offered to keep looking more into Emma's past then left Regina's house. Meanwhile, at Granny's Diner, Emma had just read the paper about herself coming to Storybrooke but it wasn't making her feel better. She was about to take a bite of an apple when Harry came over and gave her a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon on top. "I thought you worked at the Sheriff's Station," Emma asked.

"No, I only take night patrol when Graham is out. I'm just helping out Ruby with the orders since her boss is making her work double shifts." Harry explained.

Emma was confused about all this. Harry does so many things in this town but he's only 15 and he lives by himself. She asked him if he gets alone sometimes. Harry explained that he does sometimes but he's used to it by now or he'll ask Regina for a guest room to stay in for the night. Emma didn't know what to say, except for the fact that she didn't order yet. Harry knew someone else ordered for her. Emma looked at Graham who was having coffee, she thought it was him. She walked over to him with her hot chocolate. Graham was surprised that she was staying which was good for the tour sighting but bad news for their local signage.

He only joked about that since Emma crashed into the sign. "Look. The cocoa was a nice gesture. And I am impressed that you guessed that I like cinnamon on my chocolate 'cause most people don't, but I'm not here to flirt. So thank you but no thank you." Emma stated as she handed back the cocoa.

Graham confessed about the cocoa, he didn't give that to her. Henry spoke from one of the booths, he knew about the cinnamon part because he liked it too. "Don't you have school?" Emma asked Henry.

Walking Henry to school, Emma was still processing everything Henry had told her. The fairy tales, the curse, Regina's true identity—it all seemed too far-fetched. But Henry's conviction was hard to dismiss. He practically radiated belief. "It's not about me and my mom," Henry said, breaking the silence. "It's about breaking her curse. That's why I've got a plan. Step one: identification. I call it Operation Cobra."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Cobra? What does that have to do with fairy tales?"

Henry grinned. "Nothing. That's the point. It's a codename, to throw the Queen off our trail. She's always watching."

"Right. The Queen," Emma said, still struggling to keep up with his leaps in logic. "So, everyone here is a fairy tale character, and they just don't know it?"

"That's the curse. Time's been frozen. Until you got here."

Emma was about to take a bite of her apple, but Henry stopped her. "Where'd you get that?" he asked sharply.

"Your mom," Emma replied.

"Don't eat that." He grabbed the apple and threw it away.

"Okay, uh, all right," Emma said, startled. "What about their pasts?"

"They don't know. It's a haze to them. Ask anyone anything, and you'll see."

"So, for decades, people have been walking around in a haze, not aging, with screwed-up memories, stuck in a cursed town that kept them oblivious?"

Henry grinned. "I knew you'd get it. That's why we need you. You're the only one who can break the curse."

"Because I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming?" Emma asked incredulously.

"Yes. And right now, we have the advantage. My mom doesn't know that. I took out the end." He pulled out a set of pages from the book. "The part with you in it. See? Your mom is Snow White."

Emma sighed, looking at the pages. "Oh, kid."

"I know the hero never believes at first. If they did, it wouldn't be a very good story. If you need proof, take them. Read them. But whatever you do, don't let her see these pages. They're dangerous. If she finds out who you are... it would be bad."

Emma took the pages, scanning them briefly. The Savior—her? She shook her head, tucking them into her jacket. "All right. I'll keep them safe."

"Good luck," Henry said, giving her a quick hug before running off.

They both made it to Henry's school, he made a plan for them to meet up later and start the plan. Mary Margret watched as Henry left, smiling. She and Emma started talking about Henry and his book until Mary Margret revealed that Henry thinks she is Snow White in his book. When she asked Emma if she was in the book, Emma just told her that she wasn't in the book. Emma looked more and more worried for Henry. "Regina mentioned the kids in therapy. Do you know where I could find the doctor?" she asked Mary Margret.

Emma found out that the kids' doctor, Dr Hopper was the one helping Henry. She headed to his office and to her surprise, Harry was there. "Emma, nice to see you again. I guess I forgot to tell you, that I work with Dr Hopper with some of his patients. If you're looking for him, he's not here. He just left to take his dog for his to check up." Harry explained.

Emma tilted her head. "Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

Harry smirked. "Aren't you supposed to be a tourist?"

Emma explained to Harry that Henry might have been seeing Dr Hopper longer than before with the fairy tale obsession. Harry just told Emma that it's how he communicates with his feelings but he doesn't know anything else about his sessions. Regina doesn't let him stay for Henry's therapy sessions because she thinks he'll get more confused with reality. However, Harry could tell that Emma wanted to be in Henry's life and she had the right intentions. So he gave Emma the file with all of Henry's sessions with Dr Hopper. "Why are you helping me?" she asked.

"Because Henry trusts you. You're the only other person who seems to understand what he's going through. Regina may have taken care of him for ten years but he's still your son. Not many people would try to have a second chance with their child." Harry spoke in a sad tone.

Emma used her superpower to tell if he was lying but he was telling the truth. So she decided to put her trust in him and left. Emma was in her room at Granny's Inn, looking over Henry's file. That was when she heard someone knocking at her door. She opened it and standing in the hallway was Graham, he came to see Emma after she stole from Dr Archibald Hopper. She was confused until Graham explained that she demanded to see Henry's files and when he refused you came back and stole them.

"He wasn't in his office. Harry was there and he gave me the files." Emma tried to explain.

"Alas, Dr. Hopper's telling a different tale. He also told me that Harry was with Henry at school. May I check your room or must I get a search warrant?" Graham asked with impatience.

Emma let him into her room, he saw the scattered papers on her bed. They were Henry's files "I'm afraid, Miss Swan, you're under arrest. Again." he said as he put handcuffs on Emma.

Emma was dragged down to the Police Station, she kept saying that Regina was setting her up so she could have Henry to herself. Graham didn't believe her and he still took pictures of Emma for her stay in jail. Henry, Harry, and Mary Margret came running in to help Emma out. Henry knew what Emma was doing, she was gathering data for Operation Cobra. "Graham, Miss Blanchard is gonna bail her out. And she's telling the truth. I was the one who gave her Henry's therapy files to her." Harry explained.

Emma looked confused at Mary Margret, she asked why she would help out. Mary Margret told Emma that she trusted her. "Well, if you could uncuff me, there's something I need to do," Emma stated with a smirk on her face.

Outside Regina's house, she saw Emma with a chainsaw in front of her apple tree. Emma saw Regina looking out the window, she smirked and used the chainsaw to cut down a branch of the tree. Regina was filled with anger and she came storming towards Emma. "What the heck are you doing?!" she screamed.

"Picking apples." Emma joked.

Regina was steaming "Your out of your mind." she stated.

"No. You are. Do you think a shoddy frame job is enough to scare me off? You're gonna have to do better than that. You come after me one more time, I'm coming back for the rest of this tree. Because, sister, you have no idea what I am capable of." Emma threatened and walked away, "Your move."

(The Enchanted Forest)

In the Forest, The Evil Queen was trying to figure out why the curse didn't even work. Her butler/father, King Henry was trying to convince her to give up on this quest for vengeance but it didn't work. She will not stop until Snow feels the same amount of pain she has felt. Her father told her that to figure out the curse, she would have to talk to the man who gave it to her. That man was Rumplestiltskin. "Revenge is a dark and lonely road. Once you go down it, there's no heading back." King Henry spoke.

The Queen was willing to take that chance, there was nothing left for her. In Rumplestiltskin's cell, he had left a half-eaten apple on the floor where rats began to nibble away. He saw a black rat scurrying across the floor, he knew that was the Queen. "It's just us, dearie, you can show yourself," he said in a sing-songy tone.

The Evil Queen changed from a rat to her normal self. She told him that the curse wasn't working but she soon found out that Snow and Charming came to see him as well. The Queen asked him what he told them. "The truth. That nothing can stop the Darkness." He told her and she smiled.

Except her smile faded when Rumplestiltskin told her that Snow's unborn child could break the curse. No matter how powerful the Queen may be, all curses can be broken. She demanded that Rumplestiltskin tell her what went wrong with the curse. However, he wasn't going to tell her, not without making a deal. He wanted comfort and a good life in the new land, he wanted to be rich. She promised him an estate but Rumple wanted more than that. "In this new land, should I ever come to you for any reason, you must heed my every request. You must do whatever I say. So long as I say please." he explained with a chuckle.

"You do realize that should I succeed, you won't remember any of this?" The Queen reminded the Dark One.

Rumplestiltskin didn't care, all he wanted was for the curse to be enacted. So she took the deal, and the Queen asked him what she must do to enact the curse. Rumplestiltskin told her that she needed to sacrifice a heart. "I already sacrificed my prized steed," she answered. bluntly.

Rumplestiltskin grabbed The Queen's wrist and pulled her close to the bars. "This is the curse to end all curses. Do you think a horse is gonna do? Great power requires great sacrifice. The heart you need must come from something far more precious." he explained.

The Queen asked what would work for the curse, he answered that it must be from the thing she loves most. However, the thing she had loved was already dead, because of Snow White. But Rumpe reminded her that there was someone else that she loved that could be used to start the curse. The Queen started to hesitate, she couldn't do it to the one person that was loyal to her. "This curse isn't gonna be easy. Vengeance never is, dearie. You have to ask yourself a simple question. How far are you willing to go?" Rumple asked her.

"As far as it takes," she answered with a smirk.

"Then please stop wasting everyone's time and just do it. You know what you love." Rumple said then poked his head out from the bars, "Now go kill it."

(Storybrooke)

Emma headed back to her room in Granny's Inn but she asked Emma to leave since she was a criminal. She grabbed her things and headed out of the Inn. Emma was certain that Regina was behind it. That didn't stop Regina, she even had Graham put a boot on Emma's car. But it wasn't enough, Regina wanted Emma gone from Storybrooke but Graham suggested that she and Emma make amends before someone gets hurt, namely Henry. Regina called Emma and asked her to come over and end this fight between them. This was only making Emma want to say more, Regina was up to something.

Emma ended up walking to Regina's house and that was when the trap was sprung. "I'd like to start by apologizing, Miss Swan," Regina began.

Emma blinked. "What?"

"I just have to accept the reality that you want to be here," Regina said with feigned sincerity.

"That's right, I do," Emma replied.

"And that you're here to take my son from me," Regina continued.

"Okay, let's be clear. I have no intention of taking him from anyone," Emma said firmly.

"Well, then, what are you doing here?"

Emma sighed. "I know I'm not a mother. I think that's pretty self-evident. But I did have him. And I can't help it—he got in my head, and I want to make sure he's okay. And the more you try to push me out, the more I want to be here, especially after seeing how troubled he is."

"You think he's troubled?" Regina asked, her tone sharpening.

"Well, he's in therapy," Emma pointed out. "And I only got through a couple of pages of his doctor's notes before you had me arrested. But putting all that aside, he thinks everyone in this town is a fairy tale character."

"And you don't?" Regina asked, her lips curving into a smile.

Emma shook her head. "That poor kid can't tell the difference between fantasy and reality, and it's only getting worse. It's crazy."

"Crazy?" a small voice said from behind her.

Emma turned, her stomach dropping. Henry stood in the doorway, his face pale and stricken. "You think I'm crazy?" Henry asked, his voice trembling.

"Henry, wait—" Emma began, but he backed away, shaking his head. Then he turned and ran out of the room.

Emma spun back to Regina, her eyes blazing. She knew he was there the whole time they were talking. "You set me up, didn't you?" Emma asked Regina with anger in her tone.

"Did I know that my son comes to my office every Thursday at precisely 5:00 p.m. so I can take him and Harry for dinner before his therapy session? Of course, I did. I'm his mother." Regina explained with a smirk on her face.

Emma was filled with anger, Regina had made her move and now Emma was determined to get back at her. Regina was one with no soul in her body, she wondered how Regina even got like this in the first place. With that thought in her mind, she left Regina to try to make things up for her son.

(The Enchanted Forest)

The Evil Queen was storming and pacing through the castle walls, she was debating whether or not she should kill the one person that she loved. She was so lost in thought that she didn't even hear the Mirror asking her questions or calling out to her. She marched into the main room where her father was lighting the candles. He asked her if Rumplestitsking told her what she needed to do to enact the curse. She couldn't even say it to her own father, she was conflicted with this decision.

Her father asked her if he could help her. "I have to cut out the heart of the thing I love most." The Queen revealed.

Her father knew that he was the thing she loved the most. The Queen turned to her father with tears in her eyes, she couldn't do it. Her father told her that she didn't have to cast the curse for revenge. But The Queen couldn't keep living like this, she wanted Snow White to pay for what she did to her. "It's eating me alive, Daddy. Her very existence mocks me. She must be punished." she told her father.

"If the price is a hole that will never be filled, why do it? Stop worrying about Snow white and start over." Her father suggested.

Regina couldn't have a new life, everything that she worked for and built will be gone. Her power will be gone, everyone already thinks the Queen is nothing. Her father still believes that she still has a chance with love, she could have it again if she would just let go of this quest for vengeance. The Queen hugged her father tight, letting the tears fall from her eyes. Her father told her that they could find happiness together if given the chance, but the choice was hers. She believed that her father was right, she could be happy, but not here.

The Queen reached into her father's chest, cast a spell on her heart, and ripped it out of his body with ease, the body fell to the ground and lifeless. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

She headed back to the sight of the curse, started the fire, and threw the heart in. The curse started to grow and grow until it was a stormy fog that was rolling across the land. Just before she left her castle, she placed a rose on the top of her father's grave. She whispered the words 'I love you' and headed to the castle. In front of the grave was the name of her father, Henry.

(Storybrooke)

Emma was still filled with guilt that Henry heard her, so she went to Mary Margaret's apartment to try and ask for advice. She knocked on the door of Mary Margrent's apartment and the door opened, she thanked her for bailing her out and paid her back. Mary Margaret invited Emma into her home and gave her a cup of cocoa with cinnamon. "When you bailed me out, you said that you trusted me. Why?" Emma asked.

"It's strange. Ever since you arrived here, I've had the oddest feeling like we met before. And I know it's crazy. But for what it's worth, I think you're innocent." Mary Margaret explained.

They talked and talked until Emma revealed that she was leaving Storybrooke. She thought if she stayed then Henry is gonna keep getting hurt. Mary Margaret didn't seem to think so, the reason why she wants to leave is the same reason why she stays, she cares about Henry. "Who will protect Henry if you won't?" Mary Margaret asked.

The air in Storybrooke was thick with the weight of the past. Emma Swan walked with determination, her boots clicking softly against the cobblestone as she made her way to Dr. Hopper's office. She had to fix things with Henry—nothing else mattered now. The mistakes she'd made were too many, but this, this was one thing she couldn't let slip away.

She pushed the door open, stepped inside, and immediately spotted Henry sitting on the couch next to Harry. Dr. Hopper, looking flustered, was behind his desk. The tension in the room was palpable. Emma's heart tightened, but she was ready. This was the moment.

Dr. Hopper was the first to speak, his voice apologetic but firm. "Miss Swan... I owe you an apology. The misunderstanding with the files... it was Regina. She forced me to do it, and I..."

Emma barely heard the rest. She stepped forward, cutting him off. There was no need for excuses. What mattered now was her son. "Henry," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "I'm so sorry."

Her words hung in the air, and she felt every second of the silence that followed. Henry didn't respond right away. Instead, he turned his head away, staring out the window with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. "I don't want to talk to you," Henry muttered, his voice tight with anger and hurt.

Emma's heart sank, but she didn't back down. She was here, and she was going to fix this. She glanced over at Harry, who was watching them both intently. Harry, who had always been protective of his brother, gave a small nod as if silently encouraging Emma to keep going. "Henry, just hear her out," Harry said quietly, his tone full of concern.

Dr. Hopper gave Emma a wary look, but it was Harry who spoke next. "Archie, I'll handle this. I was the one who gave Emma the files in the first place."

Emma appreciated the support, but her focus remained on Henry. She moved closer to him, her voice growing more urgent. "Henry, there's one reason I stayed here. You. I wanted to get to know you. I made a mistake, but I'm here now, and I want to make things right."

Henry's eyes remained cold, but Emma could see the flicker of doubt in them. It was a small crack, but it was enough for Emma to press on. "You think I'm crazy," Henry said, his voice bitter.

Emma shook her head. "No, I think the curse is crazy. And it is. But that doesn't mean it isn't real. It's hard to believe, I get that. But there are a lot of crazy things in this world. And what do I know? Maybe it is true. But I know this, Henry: I'm trying to make things right. And I'm not giving up on you."

Henry looked away again, his lips pressed into a firm line. He didn't respond right away, but Emma could feel the weight of his hurt.

"You told my mom..." Henry started, but Emma quickly interjected.

"I told her what she needed to hear," Emma said softly, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "But what I do know is this: If this curse is real, the only way to break it is by tricking the Evil Queen into thinking we're nonbelievers. We need to stay under her radar. And we need someone who knows everyone in this town. Someone who can sneak us information."

Emma glanced at Harry. "Isn't that what Operation Cobra was about? Throwing her off the trail?"

Henry's face lit up with recognition. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, his excitement growing. "And for that someone, I think Harry would be perfect."

Emma turned to Harry, her eyes hopeful. "Harry, do you want to help us?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking from Henry to Emma. After a few seconds, he gave a small nod. "If it helps Henry get you to stay... then I'm in," Harry said, his voice steady and sure.

Emma smiled, relieved. It wasn't going to be easy, but they had a plan. A real chance to fight back. She took a deep breath and pulled out the pages; the pages that could destroy everything if they fell into the wrong hands. Henry had been right about them. They were dangerous. Too dangerous. Without hesitation, Emma stood and walked to the fireplace. The flames crackled as she tossed the pages into the fire. They caught quickly, turning to ash almost immediately.

"Now we have the advantage," Emma said, her voice full of determination.

Henry's face softened, and Harry gave her a small, approving smile. Emma felt the weight lifting off her shoulders, but the battle was far from over. They still had so much to do. Henry stood up slowly, stepping toward Emma. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Emma's heart swelled with emotion as she hugged him back, feeling the warmth of his acceptance. "I knew you were here to help me," Henry whispered into her ear.

Emma smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes for the first time in a long while. "That's right, kid. I am."

Regina stood beneath the apple tree, her fingers grazing the ripe fruit that hung just out of reach. She was lost in thought, her mind swirling with plans, schemes, and the ever-present weight of her rivalry with Emma Swan. Her peace was short-lived, however, as the sound of footsteps approached. She turned, seeing none other than Mr. Gold walking toward her with his usual calculated grace. His cane clicked against the stone path, the sound like a reminder that he was always watching, always waiting. "I hear Emma Swan is staying in Storybrooke," Gold said, his voice smooth, almost too calm.

Regina didn't respond immediately, choosing instead to focus on the apple in her hand. Her fingers curled tighter around it, the skin of the fruit cool and unyielding. She didn't want to make a deal with him. Not today. "I don't have time for your deals today, Mr. Gold," Regina said sharply. "Keep your offers to yourself."

Gold gave her a knowing smile, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Oh, Regina... you may not have time for them now, but eventually, we all must play the game," Gold said, his words dripping with something sinister.

Regina's grip on the apple tightened, but she said nothing. Gold would wait. He always did.

 

Chapter 4: Snow Fall

(The Enchanted Forest)

Everyone knows the tale of Snow White and Prince Charming, but the truth is far richer and more complex than the stories would have you believe.

In the picturesque landscapes of the Enchanted Forest, a royal carriage trundled along the winding path to King George’s castle. Inside sat Prince James, commonly known as Charming, and Princess Abigail, the two unfortunate participants in a political marriage arranged for alliance rather than love. Abigail, as composed as ever, glanced out of the carriage window and sighed dramatically. “We should have taken the Troll Road,” she remarked. “It’s faster and much less bumpy. I detest being late to the palace.”

Charming hardly acknowledged her complaint, his focus fixed elsewhere. In his hands, he clutched a small leather pouch containing his mother’s cherished ring—a symbol of the love and freedom he felt he’d lost the moment this arrangement was set in stone. The carriage abruptly halted, jostling them both. Charming glanced up sharply. “What now?” Abigail groaned.

Charming opened the door and stepped out. The knights escorting their journey were huddled ahead, studying a large tree sprawled across the path. “My Lord,” one of them called, “a tree has fallen and blocked the road.”

Charming strode forward, inspecting the tree with narrowed eyes. Something felt wrong. His fingers traced the trunk, stopping when he spotted deep, precise notches near the base. “This wasn’t an accident,” he muttered, his voice low but firm.

“What do you mean?”

He stood, brushing bark off his hands. “Look at these markings. This tree didn’t fall—it was cut.” His eyes darted back toward the carriage. “It’s an ambush!”

Before the knights could react, a figure dropped from the treetops onto the carriage roof with a thud, startling Abigail and causing her to scream. The bandit wasted no time, prying open the carriage and snatching Charming’s leather pouch. Then, with remarkable speed, the thief mounted one of the horses and bolted into the forest. Charming barely had time to react. He grabbed the reins of his steed and swung into the saddle, spurring the horse forward in pursuit. The chase was intense, the two weaving through trees and over uneven terrain until Charming finally closed the distance.

With a calculated leap, he tackled the thief off their horse, both tumbling hard to the forest floor. Dazed but determined, Charming pinned the thief to the ground. “Show your face, you coward!” he demanded, yanking back the hood.

He froze, blinking in disbelief as the bandit’s identity was revealed—not a grizzled highwayman or a hardened criminal, but a young woman with striking features and an expression that held more defiance than fear. “You’re a girl,” he blurted, incredulous.

“Woman,” she corrected sharply.

Before he could react, she grabbed a nearby rock and hurled it at his face. The impact forced him to release her with a grunt of pain. She scrambled to her feet and darted toward her horse, mounting it in one fluid motion. Charming clambered to his feet, clutching his jaw where the rock had grazed him. “You can’t hide from me!” he shouted after her retreating form. “Wherever you are, I will find you!”

Snow White, for that was who she was, glanced back with a mischievous smirk before disappearing into the dense trees. Charming watched her go, his anger simmering just below the surface. The thief had escaped for now, but this was far from over.

(Storybrooke)

Harry was helping Ruby with the diner, but truthfully, he was just there to make sure that Mary Margret and Dr. Whale's date was going well. It wasn't, Dr. Whale just kept ignoring her and was more focused on Ruby. He only listens to her when she is talking about her class coming to the hospital to put up decorations tomorrow. Mary Margret was miserable, she asked for the check and paid for the dinner herself. She left the dinner, knowing that there was no such thing as love at first sight. Harry left early to speak with Mary Margret. He caught up to her "Hey, I saw the whole thing. Sorry about that Miss Branched." Harry apologized.

But before Mary Margret could say anything, she saw Emma living in her own car. She did offer Emma to stay in her apartment but she turned it down. Emma wasn't the roommate type. Maru Margret told Emma about her date and it didn't go so well. "Well, I guess if true love was easy, we'd all have it," said Mary Margret.

She wished Emma a good night and good luck with Henry. She headed back to her apartment as Harry just stayed by Emma. "I've been meaning to ask you something." Emma said as Harry looked at her, "Henry thinks everyone in this town is a fairytale character, who does he think you are?"

"It's kind of silly. But he thinks I'm a character known as the masked dragon rider. A hero who has a Night Fury by his side and happens to have a big heart for others." Harry explained.

The next morning, Mary Margret's class arrived at the hospital. They have been putting up decorations, giving get-well cards to the patients and even hanging posters. Mary Margret was placing a vase of flowers on one of the patients' desks when she saw Henry in the back with a patient known as John Doe. The man has been in a coma for years, no one knows him or has come to claim him. Henry noticed a small scar underneath Mr. Doe's chin, it looked like Charming's scar in his book. He was interrupted when Mary Margret came in to tell him that he should help with the decorations. "What's wrong with him?" Henry asked.

"I don't know." said Mary Margret, "He's been like this as long as I've been volunteering. I just bring him flowers on my rounds."

"Does he have any family or friends?" Henry asked.

Mary Margret answered that no one claimed him, it was sad. Mary Margret led Henry out of John Doe's room but not before Henry looked back at him. Later, Henry had Harry and Emma meet up at his castle. He told Emma that he found her father who was Prince Charming and he was in the hospital. The scar was in the same place on John Doe just like Prince Charming's. "The curse is keeping them apart with the coma. Now they're stuck without each other. We have to tell Miss Blanchard we found her Prince Charming." he explained.

"Okay, kid. Telling someone their soul mate is in a coma is probably not helpful. Not having a happy ending is painful enough, but giving someone unrealistic hope is far worse." said Emma.

Henry still believed that he was right about Charming being here in Storybrooke. They all know who Mary Margret and John Doe are and they just need to remember. Henry figured if Ms. Blanchard reads to John Doe then maybe he might remember who he is. Emma agreed to the idea, Harry was just looking at her confused. "We'll do it, but we'll do it my way," she answered.

Henry gave Emma his book so she could give it to Mary Margret. When Emma went to talk to Mary Margret about Henry's plan, she wasn't sure about this plan. If Henry thinks that Mary Margret is Snow White, then Mr. Joe could be her soulmate. But Emma had a way to make Henry see that this fairy tale obsession was just that, a fantasy. "Just play along, do what he says, and then maybe, just maybe..." Emma said.

"He'll see that fairy tales are just that. That there's no such thing as love at first sight. Or first kiss. He'll see reality." Mary Margret finished.

"I told him that we will all meet tomorrow for breakfast at Granny's, and you will give a full report," Emma explained.

Emma gave Mary Margret the book and she left for the hospital. Dr. Whale let her in as she headed to John Doe's room. She began to read to him, she kept reading to him the Snow White story. By the time she got to the part where Snow White and Prince Charming gazed into each other's eyes for love at first sight. She felt something on her hand, it was Don Joe's hand that had grabbed her. It was a sign that he was listening and trying to wake up. She raced to get Dr. Whale and she told him that John Doe was waking up. She took him to John Doe to prove that she was right but he didn't see any new changes on the machines.

Dr. Whale told Mary Margret that she probably just dozed off and imagined it. But she knew what she saw, Dr. Whale just saw what the machines were saying, which was nothing. "Sometimes there are minor fluctuations in readings. Perhaps you heard the machine register something and misunderstood." Dr. Whale explained.

Mary Margret left the hospital, but when she left, Dr. Whale made a call to a certain Mayor about John Doe. But Harry overheard Dr. Whale talking to Regina. He may be the town's own hero but there are some things that he will go against. And lying to Mary Margret was not one of them. She's like a mother to him and he wasn't going to let Regina hurt her.

(The Enchanted Forest)

Inside a hollowed-out log lay Snow White's makeshift hideout, her sanctuary while evading the relentless hunt of the Queen. The modest dwelling was littered with treasures she’d collected during her time on the run, trinkets and jewels she’d gathered to barter for safe passage out of the kingdom. She moved quickly, shoving them into a satchel alongside her weapons. Stepping out into the fresh air, Snow’s confidence faltered as she took a wrong step. The ground beneath her triggered a hidden mechanism, and suddenly, a net shot up, hoisting her into the air. She twisted and turned, struggling against the rough ropes, but her efforts were in vain.

From the shadows emerged Prince Charming, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he admired his prize. “I told you I’d find you,” he said, his tone laced with satisfaction. “No matter what you do, I will always find you.”

Snow glared down at him, her voice sharp with sarcasm. “Is this the only way you can catch a woman? By entrapping her?”

“It’s the only way to catch thieving scum,” he retorted without missing a beat.

Snow scoffed. “Aren’t you a real Prince Charming?”

Charming crossed his arms, looking slightly amused. “I have a name, you know.”

“Don’t care,” she replied. “Charming suits you. Now cut me down, Charming.”

“I’ll release you when you return the leather pouch you stole,” he said firmly, his gaze narrowing. “The one with my jewels.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not the jewelry type.”

“Indeed, I noticed.”

Her brow furrowed as she leaned against the ropes. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you insulting me?”

“Quite right,” he replied, a mockingly apologetic tone creeping into his voice. “My apologies. How dare I cast aspersions at the person who robbed me? Where are my jewels?”

“I sold them,” she said nonchalantly, her lips quirking into a sly grin.

“What?” Charming’s voice rose with disbelief.

“What do you care?” she shot back. “Don’t you have a palace full of treasures somewhere?”

“These were special,” he said, his irritation replaced with a note of vulnerability. “Among them was a ring that belonged to my mother. A ring I was about to give to...”

Snow cut him off with a mocking laugh. “The nag with the bad attitude? That’s what this is about?”

“She’s my fiancée,” he said curtly.

“Good luck with that,” Snow said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You must be getting something impressive to have agreed to that union.”

Charming stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I know how this works,” she continued, her tone scathing. “True love? It doesn’t exist. It’s all arranged marriages and business transactions. There’s no such thing as love at first sight. Or first kiss. Let me guess: her kingdom wants to take over yours, and this is, what, a last-ditch effort to avoid war?”

“This is not a takeover,” he said defensively, his jaw tightening. “It’s a merger. And quite frankly, it’s none of your business. Now, this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to cut you down, and you will take me to whoever has my jewels, and then you’re going to get my ring back.”

Snow gave him a defiant look. “Mmm-mmm. Why would I do that?”

“Because,” Charming said, pulling a folded parchment from his coat, “you don’t want me to tell anyone who you really are... Snow White.”

Her expression froze as she saw the wanted poster he held, the one bearing her face and a list of false crimes. “Help me get my ring back,” he said with finality, “or I’ll turn you over to the Queen’s forces. You know what happens then. Your heart ripped out of your chest.”

Snow’s mind raced, weighing her options. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping in reluctant defeat. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll help you.”

Charming smirked in triumph as he cut the ropes, letting Snow drop to the ground. She landed with a thud and shot him a glare, but he only gestured for her to lead the way.

(Storybrooke)

At Granny's, Harry, Henry, and Emma were waiting for Mary Margret to report back from her night with John Doe. Henry even gave Emma one of Regina's shirts that he took from her room "What she doesn't know won't hurt." he said.

Emma asked where Regina thinks Henry is at the arcade with Harry and she actually believed the story. Mary Margret came rushing into the diner like she saw a ghost. She began to tell them that John Doe started to wake up. Emma and Harry had bugged eyes with shock, while Henry smiled like he knew that it would happen. Mary Margret just explained that John Doe just grabbed her hand. The doctors thought that she was crazy but Mary Margret knows that she didn't imagine it. "We have to go back. You have to read to him again." Henry ordered.

However, by the time they all got to the hospital, Graham was already on the scene. "What happened? What's going on?" Harry asked.

"It's John Doe. He's missing." Graham answered as they saw an empty bed where John Doe used to be.

Regina was there too with Dr. Whale and a couple of nurses. Regina came towards them with a scowl on her face. She looked at Emma then Henry and Harry "What the heck are you doing here? Henry, I thought you were at the arcade. Now you're lying to me? And you, you're supposed to make sure Ms. Swan doesn't go anywhere near my son." she said in anger.

Mary Margret asked if anyone had taken John Doe or if something bad had happened to him. Graham explained that they didn't know. All they knew was that John's IVs were ripped out, but there was no sign of it or if there was a struggle. Henry figured that Regina had something to do with John Doe's disappearance. "Curiously, that the Mayor is here," Emma said, suspiciously.

"I'm his emergency contact." Regina answered, "I found him on the side of the road years ago with no ID. I brought him here."

Dr. Whale began to worry, John Doe had been on feeding tubes for years since he had been here. If he doesn't get back right away then it could be the end of his life. Regina wanted Emma to stay out of the investigation. She took Henry with her as a way to keep him away from Emma "Enjoy my shirt because that's all you're getting. And Harry, keep Ms. Swan in line, or next time I won't be so nice." Regina stated as she and Henry left.

Harry looked down to the floor as a sign of disappointment. Emma feels bad for him, he's doing everything for Regina but in return, he just gets put down. "You ok there?" Mary Margret asked.

"I-I'm fine. I'm used to it." Harry answered.

They only got twelve hours to find John Doe before it's too late. Graham asked Harry, Emma, and Mary Margret to follow him to the security room where Leroy and the janitor were. He asked them if they saw anything unusual but they didn't see anything, not even when John Doe was gone. "Miss Blanchard, was there anything unusual you saw during your trip with your class?" Graham asked Mary Margret.

But she didn't see anything, or at least she thinks so. Emma started to look at the monitor, it was showing the room that had Henry's class's decorations up. If this was the tape from last night then they would see the decorations. She rewinds the tapes to last night as Harry was breaking up a fight between Leroy and the janitor. The tapes reached towards last night, everyone watched as it showed John Doe walking out the back door, alone. "Four hours ago. Where does that door go?" Emma asked.

"That leads to the forest," Harry answered. Emma, Mary Margret, Harry, and Graham grabbed some flashlights and hightailed it towards the woods.

(Enchanted Forest)

Snow White had reluctantly taken the deal, leading Prince Charming through the dense woods toward the village where she'd sold his jewels and ring. As they walked, Charming’s sharp eyes caught sight of the necklace around Snow White's neck—a curious piece, glittering faintly in the dim forest light. “What’s that?” he asked casually.

“Don’t worry about it,” Snow replied curtly, quickening her pace.

Unwilling to be dismissed, Charming deftly snatched the necklace from her neck. “Careful!” Snow snapped. “It’s a weapon.”

Charming held the necklace up, inspecting it. “Dust? What kind of weapon is dust?”

“It’s fairy dust,” Snow explained through gritted teeth. “From a dark fairy. It can turn even the most powerful foe into something... squashable. I’m saving it for the Queen. I could’ve used it on you, but let’s face it, you’re not worth it.”

Charming smirked, slipping the necklace into his pocket. “Charming, indeed.”

They continued through the woods, though Snow’s glare burned holes in his back. As they walked, Charming’s curiosity got the better of him again. “So... what exactly is going on between you and the Queen?”

Snow’s expression darkened. “The charges on her posters? Lies. That woman wants me dead. She sent her huntsman to rip out my heart. He took pity on me and let me go. Since then, I’ve been hiding in the forest, trying to scrape together enough to escape this kingdom entirely. Another realm, somewhere isolated, where I’ll never be hurt again.”

“Sounds lonely,” Charming observed.

“No lonelier than being shackled in an arranged marriage,” Snow retorted.

Charming fell silent, digesting her words. Snow went on to explain that up until now, she’d only stolen from the Queen’s carriages. She’d assumed his carriage belonged to the Queen, as no one else traveled that road. “I only took what I needed to survive,” she added bitterly. “The Queen wants me dead, and you’re the first person I’ve stolen from who wasn’t one of her lackeys.”

“So,” Charming asked, “what did you do to incur that much wrath?”

“She blames me for ruining her life,” Snow muttered, her voice tight with old pain.

The tension between them was broken when they reached a clearing with a small stream. Snow crouched to take a drink, and Charming, unthinking, did the same. But no sooner had he lowered his guard than Snow struck, punching him square in the jaw and shoving him into the water. “Hey!” Charming sputtered as the current dragged him downstream.

Snow rummaged through his bag, quickly locating a small sack of gold coins. Smirking triumphantly, she bolted into the woods, leaving Charming to fend for himself. High above the scene, a Night Fury soared gracefully through the sky, a fourteen-year-old boy perched on its back. Hiccup Haddock-Jones had been tracking Snow White for days, and now he’d stumbled upon an unexpected twist. “Let’s go, bud,” he said, patting the dragon’s neck.

Together, they dove down toward the stream, Toothless snatching Charming from the water just before the current could sweep him away. “Did you get him?” Hiccup asked as the dragon gently deposited the drenched prince on the bank.

Toothless gave an approving warble, his sharp-toothed smile somewhat disarming. Charming blinked in disbelief. “Thank you…”

“You need to be more careful around thieves,” Hiccup said, brushing himself off as he approached. “Toothless and I were watching. You’d be dead otherwise.”

“Toothless?” Charming echoed, eyeing the dragon nervously. “That beast has a name?”

“Yes, he has a name. And he’s not a beast—he’s my friend,” Hiccup replied pointedly.

“The dragons I’ve met weren’t so friendly,” Charming muttered.

“Well, Toothless isn’t like other dragons,” Hiccup retorted. “He protects me, and I protect him. Now, you’d better get moving if you want to catch your thief before the Queen’s knights do.”

“You know she’s Snow White?” Charming asked, his eyes narrowing.

“She stole something from me, too. I’ve been tracking her.”

Charming weighed his options, “It seems we have a common goal. If you help me catch Snow White, I’ll make sure you get back what’s yours.”

Hiccup crossed his arms, skeptical. “If you say so, Prince Charming.”

Charming bristled. “I have a name.”

“Don’t care. The less I know, the better,” Hiccup said dismissively.

“What’s your name?”

Hiccup hesitated. “Just call me the Masked Dragon Rider.”

“Why not your real name?”

“Trust issues,” Hiccup replied flatly. “The last time I let someone in, I got banished from my village.”

Charming softened slightly. “Your parents must be worried.”

“I lost my mom when I was young,” Hiccup said quietly. “And my dad? He hates me.”

Meanwhile, Snow White, still running, found herself on a royal road; just as the Queen’s knights appeared. Spotting her, two knights circled her, trapping her. Snow’s hand flew to her neck, reaching for her fairy dust, only to remember that Charming had taken it. She was defenseless.

Two knights seized her arms, forcing her back against a tree. The third drew a knife, his voice low and menacing. “The Queen wants your heart, and we’re not going to disappoint her.”

(Storybrooke)

Deep in the woods of Storybrooke, Graham, Emma, Mary Margret, and Harry are tracking down John Doe. The sun had set and the forest was now dark, Graham kept looking for clues as to where John Doe disappeared to. But they came to the end of John's footprints and the last step was mixed with the footprint of a wolf. "What is that? A wolf?" Emma asked.

"No, there haven't been any wolves in Storybrooke. This is smaller. Just give me a second. This is my world." said Graham.

Mary Margret thought that finding people was Emma's thing. Emma told her that most people she finds usually run to places like Vegas instead of the woods. Harry figured Emma must have started finding people since she tried to find her parents. Suddenly a twig snapped, someone was following them, and that someone was Henry. "Henry, you shouldn't be here," said Harry.

"But I can help. I know where he's going" Henry explained.

Mary Margret asked where John Doe was going and Henry told her that he was looking for her. Henry then saw the wolf print that was on top of John Doe's footprint. "I think someone else is looking for John Doe too," Henry said.

"And who would that be? Cause that's a wolf print, not human." Emma asked.

Suddenly, Henry heard the howl of a wolf and started to follow it. Emma looked worried but Harry volunteered to go after Henry. He raced after Henry, calling out for him but Henry wasn't listening. He stopped when he saw the same black wolf-like dog with acid-green eyes that Emma saw. Harry caught up to Henry then he laid his eyes on the dog. "I knew it. He still remembers," said Henry.

"Henry, what are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"That's Toothless! Your dragon. He's the only one that remembers everything from the curse. Because you couldn't risk losing your best friend, you're the masked dragon rider. You helped Snow White and Prince Charming." Henry explained.

Harry looked at Henry like he was just making this up. But somehow the dog knew what was going on. The dog ran off as a sign that they should follow it, Mary Margret found the boys and followed the wolf with them. The farther they went, the darker it got. The wolf-like dog was tracking down John Doe as Mary Margret and the boys followed behind. "You're the one who woke him up. You're the last one he saw. He wants to find you!" Henry said to Mary Margret.

"Henry, it's not about me. I just... I think he's lost and confused. He's been in a coma a long time." Mary Margret explained.

Henry still believes that John Doe loves Mary Margret. He told her to stop chasing John Doe and let him find her. Harry didn't want Henry to be here, if his mom finds out about this then she'll kill Harry then Henry, and then Harry again. Henry explained that Regina dropped him off at her house and then went out. "Henry, we need to get you back there right now," Harry spoke.

Suddenly, there was a howl from the dog. It meant that he found something. They followed the sound to what the dog found. It was John Doe's wristband from the hospital, it landed on a leaf with a small amount of blood. They were running out of time.

(The Enchanted Forest)

Snow White was struggling against the black knights that had her pinned to a tree. One of the knights sharpened his knife and raised it in the air, ready to carve out Snow's heart. In her mind, she was praying that someone might help her. Suddenly, there was a loud high white then a violet ball of fire was launched at the knight with the knife and he was knocked to the ground. Snow White looked with fear still in her eyes to see that Charming was alive. Another ball of fire was launched at the second knight. The masked dragon rider landed beside Charming "Do you always define orders?" Charming asked.

"I'm stubborn and reckless. It's an occupational hazard." the masked rider answered, sarcastically.

The second knight got up from the ground and drew out his sword as the last knight took Snow White onto his horse and escaped. The masked dragon rider told Charming to go after Snow White while he took care of the second knight. Charming took the bow and quiver of arrows from the knight on the ground and followed the knight with Snow White. Charming found a spot where he could fire the arrow. He pulled it out and fired to fire it. Once the knight came into view, he released the arrow and it hit the knight. The knight fell off the horse and Snow White grabbed the reins and made the horse stop.

Charming raced to Snow White "You- you saved me." she said.

"It seemed like the honorable thing to do," Charming replied.

The masked Dragon Rider caught up to them with his dragon, Snow's face went pale cause she knew him. She stole a locket that belonged to his mother. "The last knight was taken care of. Snow White, I believe you have something that belongs to me," he stated.

"I sold that locket to the trolls. I'll get it back along with Charming's ring for his wedding. They're just beyond the next ridge." Snow explained.

"Trolls? Are they real? Aren't they little people?" The masked dragon rider asked.

"That's dwarves. Show a little respect. They'll cut your hand off sooner than they shake it." said Snow White.

The boys looked a little worried, Snow figured that they should get going. She had her corner of solitude to find, Charming had a fiance to please, and the masked dragon rider had his own place to be. Charming and Snow rode on the horse while the masked dragon rider rode on Toothless as they made their way to the troll bridge. Once they made it to the bridge, Snow had the horse run off seeing trolls hate horses. The bridge however was empty, there was no sign of the trolls. Snow White pulled out a couple of gold coins and laid them out on the edge. She looked down at the edge and saw three huge trolls climb up.

Toothless was ready to attack the troll since they had their weapons pointed out to them. "Keep that dragon on a leash. I know these trolls." Snow explained.

"Why you here? I thought we were done." the leader asked in an impatient tone.

Snow told them that she wanted to make another trade. The leader didn't like talking business in front of Charming and the masked dragon rider. Snow promised him that they were with her to get the trolls to trust her but the leader wasn't convinced. Snow promises to give the trolls back the money that they paid her if they give her the ring and locket but the trolls get to keep the rest.

The trolls finally agreed but Charming blew it when he acted too eager. The leader thought it was a setup, he saw that Charming was a royal. The leader looked at the masked dragon rider, he ordered his men to hold down Toothless to stop him from attacking. "How about this? We give you the items, and we get the Night Fury. It's a rare dragon and its scales are more valuable than the rest of the treasure." the leader ordered.

The masked dragon rider refused to hand over Toothless. So the leader had his men search both Charming and the masked rider for anything available. The trolls removed all the items Charming had including the necklace that Snow had filled with the pixie dust. It wasn't until the troll pulled out the wanted poster of Snow White from Charming's pocket and handed it to the leader. One look at the reward and he was in a killing mood. Charming drew out his sword and attacked the trolls. Snow White grabbed her necklace and decided to make a break for it. The masked rider had Toothless attack the trolls as he drew out his own sword and helped Charming.

They were losing, the trolls overpowered them. The leader raised his sword and just as he was about to strike, black smoke surrounded him and turned him into a bug. The masked rider saw that Snow had come back to help them. She used the rest of the pixie dust on the other trolls to turn them into bugs. "You saved us," Charming said.

"It was the honorable thing to do," Snow said.

Snow took the satchel that had Charming's ring and the masked rider's locket. The masked rider asked her about the dust she had planned for her enemy. She said that she'd think of something else. Charming even told them his real name which is James. The masked rider still had trust issues with his identity but Charming didn't care. He was just glad that he could consider the masked rider an ally. Charming gathered the rest of the supplies and the three of them headed their spread ways.

(Storybrooke)

Mary Margret, Harry, and Henry followed the wolf-like dog to the old toll bridge. The trail ended here, there was nothing but the stream and them. Mary Margret used her flashlight to look around, her light shined onto John Doe who was in the stream and not moving. Harry used his walky-talky to contact Graham, telling him that they found John Doe and needed an ambulance fast. Harry had Henry stay on the shore while he and Mary Margret got John Doe out of the water, fast. They brought him to the shore, he wasn't breathing. Mary Margret was in a state of panic, she didn't know what to do.

Henry was asking if John Doe was going to be ok, Harry didn't want him to see this so he shielded Henry's eyes from the scene. Mary Margret could feel tears coming out of her eyes. She kneeled down and started performing CPR. By the time she went for the lips, John Doe woke up coughing out the water that was in his lungs. He stared at Mary Margret with what looked like a loving gaze "You saved me." he whispered.

Henry looked at the black wolf-like dog, he smiled at it as a way of saying thank you. Suddenly, the sounds of an ambulance were drawing close to their location. Emma and Graham had arrived with paramedics to help John Doe, who had no idea who he was. Doctors and nurses had pulled John Doe back into his room at the hospital. Dr. Whale was ordering nurses to get John Doe hooked back onto the machines. The gang watched from outside of John's room, Emma asked them how they found him. "Let's just say, Graham might have some competition in the woods," Harry spoke.

Suddenly, a woman with blond hair ran into the room, she looked like she saw a ghost the way she looked at John Doe. She called him David, doctors were trying to get her to leave but she claimed that he was her husband. "Who was that?" Mary Margret asked.

"His wife." someone answered and that person was Regina.

Regina wore a stern look on her face when she saw Henry with Emma. Harry's expression was 'Da Da Da, we're dead.' Regina explained that John Doe's real name is David Nolan and that's his wife, Kathryn. Regina took Henry with her as a sign that she was grounding him but she stopped leaving and turned to face Harry. "Be grateful, I'm in a forgiving mood with the look on Kathryn's face. But next time, I won't be nice. One more slip up Harry and you'll be in bars for losing track of my son." she threatened and left.

Harry could feel the pain of her threat cut through his heart like a knife. Emma somehow didn't believe that Kathryn was telling the truth. She told them that she and David had an argument a few years ago and he left her, she didn't even know that he was missing. "Now I get to do what I've wanted to do forever. Say I'm sorry," said Kathryn.

Mary Margret felt her heart breaking into pieces. She ended up falling in love with David but he has a wife. But the good news is that Emma decided to stay at Mary Margret's apartment.

 

Chapter 5: The Price of Gold

(The Enchanted Forest)

Everyone knows the story of Cinderella, the classic rags to riches story. But this was a different story, where Cinderella ends up making a deal with the Dark One instead of the help of her Fairy Godmother.

It was the night of the ball at the prince's castle, Lady Tremaine and her daughter had left their home for the ball. Cinderella was left behind, she was sweeping away the leaves in the garden wearing the torn-up rags that she had on and covered in cinders from the fireplace. Her stepmother and stepsister had destroyed the dress that she wanted to wear to the ball. The life she has right now is a mess, she's now the maid of her own home. Her fairy godmother had appeared to help her, the fairy godmother pulled out her wand and explained to Cinderella that she could give her a better life.

Suddenly, something hit the Fairy Godmother and she exploded into nothing, leaving her wand on the ground. Cinderella looked at the man who had just killed her Fairy Godmother. "No need to be frightened." He said in a twisted tone.

"No need? You just killed my Fairy Godmother! She was gonna help me." Cinderella shouted in anger.

The man just looked at Cinderella like she was gullible and naive. He asked her if she knew what the wand had held. She told him that it was just pure magic but the man said that it was pure evil. He was saying that he was doing Cinderella a favor since all magic comes with a price. He tries to convince Cinderella to go back to her life. She didn't want this life, her own life was wrecked, and she had nothing here for her.

The man just told her to change it without magic since she could not handle it or the consequences. Cinderella stopped the man by saying that she could handle the magic, she was willing to do anything to get away from her stepfamily. "Do you know how to use that wand, Mister..."

"Rumplestiltskin. And, yes, of course, I do," he answered.

Cinderella was begging for Rumplestiltskin to help her. There was a small smirk across his face as he agreed to help her, for a price that is. Cinderella would owe him one favor, one where she would have to give up something very precious in due time. With her wish, she'll have riches more than she'll know but she doesn't care for riches she just wants to leave. Rumplestiltskin could tell she was desperate so he agreed to help her. All she had to do was sign the dotted line on the contract that Rumpelstiltskin had made appear along with a quill. She quickly agreed to the deal and signed the contract faster than you could say 'A happy ending.'

With a wave of the wand, Rumpelstiltskin had turned Cinderella's ragged clothes into a beautiful sparkling blue ball gown, her hair was up in a bun with a tiara on her head. She had never looked more beautiful in her life. Cinderella looked down and in front of her was a pair of glass slippers. "Glass?" she questioned.

"Every story needs a memorable detail," Rumplestiltskin explained.

With her new look, Cinderella was off to the ball, unaware that this debt would be something that she would regret.

(Storybrooke)

In Storybrooke, Emma was walking Henry to the bus out in the open, she didn't care what Regina would do to her but she wanted to spend time with Henry. Henry wanted to come up with code names for Operation Cobra so that way Regina couldn't figure out the plan. Henry already gave Harry a code name which was Night Fury. Emma just told Henry to call her by her first name for the time being. Henry said goodbye to Emma and headed onto the bus. As Emma watched the bus leave, she saw Graham pull up in his police car with his lights flashing trying to get Emma's attention.

At first, she thought Graham was going to arrest her but he wanted to thank her for finding David. In fact, Graham wanted to offer Emma a job as his deputy with Harry. "Thank you, but I have a job," Emma stated.

"As a bail bondsperson? There's not much of that going on here. Why don't you think about it?" Graham asked as he handed Emma his card with his number and left.

Emma Swan sat in Granny’s Diner, enjoying a rare moment of peace with her hot chocolate in hand. Harry, who had just started his shift, had been kind enough to bring it over with a small smile. She was focused on her thoughts when the familiar click of heels echoed across the diner. Looking up, she saw Regina Mills striding purposefully toward her. Without invitation, the mayor slid into the seat across from Emma, a calculated smile on her lips. “I hear you’ve been spending time with my son,” Regina began smoothly. “But relax, I don’t mind.”

Emma raised a skeptical brow. “You don’t?”

“No,” Regina said, her voice dripping with a mix of nonchalance and authority. “Because you no longer worry me, Miss Swan.”

Emma’s suspicion deepened. “And why is that?”

Regina leaned in slightly, her gaze unyielding. “I did a little digging into who you are, and what I found out was... quite soothing. It all comes down to the number seven. The number of addresses you’ve had in the last decade. Your longest stint anywhere was two years. Really, what was it about Tallahassee that held your interest so long?”

Emma’s expression tightened at the mention of Tallahassee, a place tied to memories she wasn’t ready to revisit. Shrugging off the jab, she replied, “If you’re wondering, I’ve already found a place to stay in town.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Regina said, her tone sharp as a knife. “You’re staying with Miss Blanchard, but let’s not pretend that arrangement is permanent. No lease. No commitment. It’s consistent with your pattern—running before you’ve set down roots.”

Emma bristled but said nothing, letting Regina continue her tirade. “In order for something to grow, it needs roots. Unlike you, Miss Swan. You don’t have any,” Regina said coldly.

Her words were final and cutting. “People don’t change; they only fool themselves into thinking they can. So as you carry on your transient life, I suggest you think about Henry and what’s best for him.”

With that, Regina rose gracefully and left the diner, leaving Emma to stew in her words. Emma couldn’t help but think about what Regina had said. In fact, she was so distracted that she spilled her hot chocolate all over herself by accident. Ruby directed her to the laundry room for her to use. She took off her sweater and tossed it into the washing machine. Emma heard someone crying, she turned around and saw a maid named Ashley Boyed who was crying because she turned the sheets pink. Emma also saw that Ashley was almost nine months pregnant, the poor girl was stressed enough with that baby coming.

“Last night, I felt contractions and the doctor said that the baby could come any day now,” Ashley explained.

Emma figured that would be great for Ashley but the truth is, she’s scared. When the baby comes into her life, she thinks that she can’t do it. No one else thinks she can care for the baby or do anything for that matter. For a moment, Ashley was starting to believe it. Emma crouched beside her, meeting her gaze. “Screw them. How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” Ashley whispered.

“I was eighteen,” Emma admitted.

Ashley blinked. “When you had a kid?”

Emma nodded, her voice softening. “Yeah. I know how it feels to have everyone telling you what you can and can’t do, especially with a baby on the way. But here’s the thing—whatever you’re considering, whatever you’re scared of, the choice is yours. Not theirs.”

Ashley bit her lip. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Emma agreed. “But if you want people to look at you differently, you have to make them. You want to change things? Then change them yourself. Because trust me, there are no fairy godmothers coming to save the day.”

Ashley’s tears slowed, and she nodded, a spark of determination flickering in her eyes. Later that evening, long after Mr. Gold had locked up his pawnshop for the night, Ashley took Emma’s words to heart; too much, perhaps. Armed with a brick, she shattered a small pane of glass on Gold’s shop door and slipped inside. Quietly, she moved to the painting that hid his safe. She was mid-heist when a familiar voice broke the silence. “Ashley,” Mr. Gold said, stepping out of the shadows. “What are you doing?”

Ashley’s hands trembled as she turned to face him, her expression resolute. “Changing my life,” she declared.

Before he could react, she sprayed him with mace. “Ahh!” Gold cried, clutching his eyes as he staggered back.

Ashley took the opportunity to grab the key from his pocket, opening the safe and seizing its contents before fleeing into the night.

The next day in Mary Margret’s apartment, Emma had brought in all of her things from the trunk of her car. She only had one box, Mary Margret asked her if the rest of her things were in storage. Emma just stated that she wasn’t sentimental so it made things easier for her. There was a knock at the door, Mary Margret opened it, and standing outside was none other than Mr. Gold. He wanted Emma’s help to find Ashley Boyd since she broke into Mr. Gold’s shop and took something from him last night. Mary Margret decided to leave the room so the two of them could talk alone.

Emma asked him why he didn't just go to the police about this. “Because she’s a confused young woman, she’s pregnant, alone, scared. I don’t want to ruin this young girl’s life, but I just want my property returned.” Mr Gold explained.

However. he refused to share what that property was. He did mention that it’s a precious object but left it at that. He even showed Emma a small scar that he had gotten from Ashley last night when she broke in. He explained that he heard Ashley rambling on and on about changing her life, he had no idea what had gotten into her. He was begging Emma to help him otherwise he’d go to the police and no one wanted to see that baby born in jail. Emma agreed to help Mr. Gold find her but she was doing this for Ashley. Both of them heard Henry coming up the stairs but he froze when he saw Mr. Gold.

The two of them made small talk then Mr. Gold left. “Do you know who that is?” Henry asked.

“Yeah, of course I do,” Emma answered.

Henry thought Emma meant that she knew who Mr Gold was from his fairytale book. Henry snuck out of his house and Regina was at a meeting till 5:00 so he figured that he could hang out with her but Emma needed to find Ashley. Emma and Henry were now outside heading for Emma’s car even though Henry was begging Emma to let him help. “No, it could be dangerous,” Emma stated.

“The pregnant maid is dangerous?” Henry asked with uncertainty.

“She assaulted Mr. Gold. This isn’t a game. She’s desperate." Emma answered.

Henry wanted to help find Ashley but Emma told him, no but Henry convinced Emma to bring him along. Emma was trying to be responsible for Henry even though he wanted to spend time with her. He defiantly pulled out that card and Emma told him to come along. "So, the maid, what's her story?" Henry asked.

(The Enchanted Forest)

At the palace, Cinderella and Prince Thomas were wed after the wedding, fireworks lit up the sky as the guests danced the night away. Snow White and Prince Charming even come to the wedding, the masked dragon rider just watches from the crowd. Cinderella danced with the king as he welcomed her into his family hoping for it to grow soon. She even danced with Charming and Snow. Snow was proud of Cinderella, she showed that anyone can change her life.

But that night, Rumplestilskin had appeared and danced with Cinderella. No one noticed him at the ball "What are you doing here?" Cinderella asked.

"I just wanted to make sure you're happy with your end of the bargain. You know, true love, riches. Happy endings. Did you get everything you desired?" Rumplestilskin replied.

"Yes. Yes, I did. Now, what is it you want? What's your prince? My jewels? The ring?" Cinderella questioned.

Then came the price, a price that was something that Rumplestilskin knows what's coming soon, her first-born child. And we those words ringing in her head, the Dark One vanished without a trace.

A few nights after the wedding on a stormy and cold night, Cinderella was packing a bag to take with her and ran away instead of paying Rumple's price. But Thomas had returned early from his hunt due to the storm. At that moment, Cinderella knew she had to tell him the truth about Rumplestilskin, his deal, and their child. First, she reveals that she was pregnant with their child then reveals the truth about how they met the night of the ball. "I didn't understand the price of magic. So I promised him something in return." Cinderella explained.

When Thomas asked her what Rumplestilskin wanted from them, she looked down at her stomach and Thomas understood that the Dark One wanted their child. Cinderella feared that she would lose everything that she had now, Thomas, the child, her new home, everything. But Thomas didn’t care what the Dark One says, he might have brought them together with magic but he didn’t create the love they both share. “But I can’t break the deal I made. He’s too powerful.” Cinderella stated.

“Then the answer is simple, we make another deal., Thomas answered.

The two heard a small purr coming from the window, Cinderella faced the window and saw a small dragon perching on the frame with a note attached to its leg. The note was from the Masked Dragon Rider, he wanted to talk with Cinderella, alone. Cinderella wasn’t sure if she should trust him, she thought that this masked dragon rider could hurt her. Thomas doubted that he had met the masked dragon rider before and he was one of the good guys. "Just hear him out. He might know how we can stop Rumplestiltskin." Thomas stated.

The little dragon encouraged Cinderella to follow him to the Masked Dragon Rider. She followed the dragon to the outskirts of the royal garden, she stopped when she saw the man himself with a Night Fury. "I got your message. You wanted to see me," she said in an unsure tone.

"I know about Rumplestilskin's deal with you. I can help you but if you want this baby, you have to be ready. You have to make that choice, having that baby means you're giving it the best chance it has." The Masked Dragon Rider spoke. Cinderella understood what he meant, the masked Dragon Rider told her that the Charmings, dwarves, and he would help.

(Storybrooke)

Emma and Henry headed to Granny's diner to talk to Harry and Ruby more about Ashley and the baby. Turns out, Ashley's boyfriend left her in the lurch right when he found out they were expecting and hasn't spoken to her since. Ruby saw that Billy had brought her red car to her but almost shattered her glass wolf that hung from her car mirror. Emma asked if Ashley has any family in town "She has a stepmother and two stepsisters that she barely talks to." Harry explained.

Henry started piecing who Ashley was in his fairytale book. "Look, I don't know what you've heard, but it's wrong," Ruby said.

"Everyone in town thinks she's not ready to have this kid, but she's trying. Taking night classes, trying to better herself, trying to get her life together. She wants this baby, it's her choice whether or not to give that child its best chance." Harry stated.

Emma understood how Ashley was feeling, but Ruby suggested that they should stay out of it. Ashley's been through too much with the baby but there was something else that Ruby wasn't telling Emma, Harry, and Henry. Harry insisted that Emma should try Ashey's ex, he might know where she is. "I know where he lives. He still lives with his dad and I think you'll be shocked about how controlling his dad is," said Harry.

The house was as unwelcoming as its owner. Emma and Harry stood on the porch while Henry waited in the car. When Sean opened the door, his father, Mr. Herman, loomed behind him like a barrier. "We’re looking for Ashley Boyd," Emma said. "She’s in trouble. We thought she might’ve come to see you."

Mr. Herman’s lips curled into a dismissive smirk. "My son doesn’t have anything to do with that girl anymore. Whatever trouble she’s in, it’s got nothing to do with us."

Harry’s eyes narrowed. "That’s funny, coming from the man who forced his son to break up with her."

Emma turned to Sean. "He’s the reason you broke up with her?"

Sean hesitated, his eyes darting between Emma and his father. "Absolutely," Mr. Herman said, unapologetically. "I’m not going to let my son throw his life away over a mistake."

Emma bristled. "So you just told him to leave her?"

Harry scoffed. "Classic. You don’t let your son make decisions for himself."

Mr. Herman’s voice turned sharp. "I’d watch that tone, boy. You wouldn’t understand what it means to be a parent."

Emma stepped forward, her voice low and firm. "Some people only have the backseat of a car. And don’t ever talk to Harry like that again. It’s his life, not yours."

Sean’s voice finally broke through. "Dad, maybe we should help her look."

"It’s a waste, Sean," Mr. Herman snapped.

Harry met Sean’s gaze. "Sean, this is your life, not your dad’s. You want to help Ashley? Help her. The choice is yours."

Sean faltered, his father’s grip on him still evident. "I’m sorry," he muttered before retreating into the house.

As the door closed, Mr. Herman sneered. "Believe me, if I knew where she was, I’d tell you. I went to a lot of trouble to get her that deal."

Emma’s brow furrowed. "Deal? What deal?"

"Ashley agreed to give up the child," Mr. Herman said matter-of-factly. "She’s being paid handsomely for it."

Harry’s eyes blazed. "She sold the baby?"

"You make it sound so crass," Mr. Herman retorted. "I found someone who’ll ensure that child has a proper home."

"And who are you to decide if Ashley’s capable of being a mother?" Emma demanded.

"Look at her," Mr. Herman scoffed. "She’s a teenager. She’s never shown any evidence of being responsible."

"Maybe she’s changing her life," Emma shot back.

Harry added, "It worked for me, and it’ll work for Ashley."

The conversation ended with more questions than answers. But one thing was clear; Ashley had made a deal with Mr. Gold, and time was running out to stop her from following through. Emma and Harry got back in the car and drove to Granny's hoping to catch Ashley there. No one has ever crossed Mr. Gold with a deal but Emma was happy to be the first. They tried to see if they could stop Ashley but she had already taken Ruby's car and left for Boston. Henry had snuck back in the car as Harry and Emma tried to drive all the way to Boston. Henry revealed himself in the car explaining that Ashley can't leave Storybrooke, bad things happen to anyone who does.

"Henry, we don't have time to argue with you over the curse. We need to get you home." Emma stated.

"We have to stop her before she gets hurt. We're wasting time. If you two drop me off, you'll never catch up to her. Then Mr. Gold will call the police, and he'll have her sent to jail." Henry claimed.

"I hate to say it Emma but Henry has a point. If we turn back now then Ashley will be in serious trouble. We can't let Gold get his hands on that child." Harry explained.

Emma felt powerless against the two and she agreed to let Henry stay. 'Ashley, what did you get yourself into?' Emma thought.

(The Enchanted Forest)

In the Dwarf Mines underground, Cinderella and Prince Thomas were being led through the tunnels by Prince Charming, The Masked Dragon Rider, and Grumpy. Cinderella had already gone through seven months of her pregnancy, during that time Charming and the dwarves had already come up with a plan to deal with Rumplestilskin. The dwarves had converted the mines into a special prison cell just for him. "But how will we get him here? He's eluded all forever." Cinderella questioned.

"His strength is also his weakness. His deals. He can't resist making them, and we already know who he wants to deal with next. You." Grumpy explained.

Snow White had sent a message via bird to Rumplestilskin to agree to meet with Cinderella to make a new deal. Cinderella is gonna tell Rumple that she's having twins and if he wants both, which he will, Cinderella will propose a new deal. The Masked Dragon Rider handed Cinderella a quill that had been enchanted by the Blue Fairy. Anyone who signs with it will be frozen, their magic made impotent which will get them to transport Rumplestilskin to his cell. All Cinderella must do is get him to sign that contract and the spell will work. "Ella, this man is a scourge. You will be doing the entire land a service." Charming said.

Cinderella was scared, she had seen what magicians had done and it had come with a price that she couldn't pay. She was worried that this magic would have a price to pay as well. Thomas told Cinderella that he'll pay the price for this magic "I will do whatever is needed to save you and our child." Thomas stated.

Charming and Grumpy lead them to the cell that the dwarves have made for Rumplestilskin. The cell lies in the deepest parts of the mines, that way no one can ever find the Dark One. "I hope you like it. A lot of dwarf blood went into it. Plus one dragon." said Grumpy.

Cinderella and Thomas left once they understood the plan, and Charming and the Masked Dragon Rider stayed behind to talk. The masked dragon rider looked at Charming with a serious look "If we get Rumplestilskin in his cell, what about his deal with Cinderella? We both know that he'll still try to get his hands on the baby." the Masked Dragon Rider pointed out.

"We'll do whatever we can to make sure that Cinderella has her baby," Charming stated.

Out in the castle gardens at night, Cinderella waited for Rumplestilskin to show up for the plan to work. She heard his impish voice behind her as he saw that she was showing, Cinderella was ready to put the plan into motion. She gathered her courage and stated that she wanted to alter the bargain that they had made. She lied to Rumplestilskin about being pregnant with twins, knowing that it would make him want to take the deal. "And you would, what? Give up both? Why is that I wonder?" he questioned within

Cinderella could feel the fear starting to grip her soul. She needed to convince him that she was telling the truth so she gave Rumplestilskin a little sob story for extra belief. "My husband, he's having a hard time. Our kingdom is poor. We're losing money. Our crops are dying. We can't support ourselves or our people." she stated with a few tears in her eyes.

Rumplestilskin started to get suspicious about this new deal until Cinderella stated that she couldn't always have more children, and she couldn't grow crops where the soil was dead. "In exchange for our other child, you will see to it that our land is once again fertile. I think it's more than fair." Cinderella explained as she brought out a contract.

Rumplestilskin had quickly agreed to the deal. Cinderella pulled out the enchanted quill for Rumple to sign the contract with. He took the quill and examined it, Cinderella feared that he was onto them. "You know, the only way to stop me is through magic," Rumple stated.

"I'm not trying to stop you." Cinderella lied.

"Of course, you're not. Because as we all know, all magic comes with a price. And if you were to use it to, say, imprison me, then your debt to me would only grow. And we wouldn't want that, now would we?" he asked, sending chills down Cinderella's spine.

Cinderella just nodded yes as Rimplestilskin took the contract and signed it with the quill. Once his name was on the contract, the magic in the quill activated, immobilizing Rumplestilskin as Cinderella called out for Prince Thomas. Thomas came with Charming and the Masked Dragon Rider with a prison cart being pulled by horses to transport Rumplestilakin to his cell. Rumplestilskin threatened Cinderella that he would have that baby in this land or another just as he was placed in the cart. Cinderella thought the nightmare was over but it had only begun.

She started to feel false contractions from the baby and Thomas ran off to the well to get water. However, four minutes and the contractions had passed but Thomas wasn't back with the water, something was wrong. Cinderella ran to the well to find him but Thomas was nowhere in sight, all that was left of him was his cloak. She ran back to Charming and stormed up to Rumple, ordering him to tell her where her husband was. "I haven't done anything. In case you haven't noticed, I've been otherwise engaged." Rumplestilskin stated.

He was telling the truth, and the Masked Dragon Rider came over to Cinderella, promising her that they would come from Thomas. "Until that debt is paid until that baby is mine, you're never gonna see him again. In this world or the next, Cinderella, I will have that baby!" Rumplestilskin threatened.

(Storybrooke)

Emma’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as the car rumbled through the darkened streets of Storybrooke. The night was thick with the kind of silence that made her feel like the world had slowed down like time itself was holding its breath. She glanced to her side, where Harry was sitting, his jaw set with concern as he kept his eyes on the road. In the back seat, Henry remained unusually quiet, his face twisted in thought as he pieced together everything they had learned. But it was Ashley’s cries of distress from the front that kept Emma’s focus razor-sharp. Henry was the first to spot the car. “I told you. It’s her car.”

Ruby’s car, broken down just before the Storybrooke border, sitting there like an omen. Emma swerved the car to a stop next to it, heart hammering in her chest. She jumped out of the car quickly, her boots hitting the pavement hard as she scanned the area. No sign of Ashley. Her eyes darted to the bushes by the side of the road, and then she heard it—a faint cry. Her breath caught. “Ashley?” Emma’s voice called out, fear gripping her as she hurried toward the sound.

There, sitting in a patch of grass, was Ashley, hunched over and clutching her stomach. Her face twisted in pain. The sight struck Emma hard, her gut tight with anxiety. “Aaah! My baby. It’s coming!” Ashley screamed, her voice ragged with panic.

Emma’s heart skipped a beat. She dropped to her knees beside Ashley, trying to remain calm as she examined the situation. “We’re gonna get you help,” Emma said quickly, trying to steady her own nerves.

Emma and Harry helped Ashley into the car and drove back into town to the hospital. The car was speeding toward the hospital, but Emma wasn’t sure if they would make it in time. Behind her, Ashley was in excruciating pain, her hands gripping her stomach. She could hear Ashley’s breaths, ragged and fast, like she was struggling to keep herself together. Harry glanced at Emma, his brows furrowed with worry, but he said nothing. The tension in the air was thick. Henry turned around in the back seat. “Is the baby really coming?”

Emma nodded, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. “Oh, yeah.”

Her gaze flickered to Ashley. The girl’s face was pale, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Don’t worry,” Emma said, trying to soothe her. “The hospital isn’t that far.”

Ashley’s voice cracked, desperate and fearful. “No, no, no, no, take me to Boston. I can’t go back there.”

Emma’s heart ached as she glanced back at Ashley. She understood the fear in the girl’s eyes, but there wasn’t time for that. “Oh, no. We don’t have four hours, trust me. I know.”

“I can’t go back there, please,” Ashley sobbed. “He’s gonna take my baby.”

Emma felt the weight of the words press down on her. She wasn’t sure how to answer, but she knew one thing. She wouldn’t let anyone take Ashley’s baby. Not if she had anything to do with it. “I won’t let that happen,” Emma said firmly. “But do you know what you’re asking for? If you keep this child, are you really ready?”

Ashley’s eyes met Emma’s, and Emma could see the struggle in them—the fear of the unknown, the overwhelming weight of the responsibility. But in those eyes, Emma saw something else too. Something stronger. Ashley nodded, though she looked like she was still trying to convince herself. “Yeah.”

Emma’s voice softened. “Are you sure? Because I wasn’t.”

Ashley blinked, her expression confused. “You weren’t?”

“Nope,” Emma said quietly, her thoughts drifting back to her own past. “If you want to give this kid its best chance, it’s gonna be with someone who’s ready. So know what that means. Your whole life is gonna change. And once you decide that it’s yours, this running away can’t happen. You have to grow up, and you can’t ever leave. Understand?”

Ashley nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Yes. I want my baby.”

They finally arrived at the hospital; Emma and Harry helped Ashley out of the car. The minute they walked in, Harry called for a nurse to help them. The nurse grabbed a wheelchair and helped Ashley into it then wheeled her to a hospital room for the delivery. The sterile, white walls of Storybrooke General Hospital’s waiting room felt suffocating, each tick of the clock echoing in Emma’s mind. Harry sat next to her, his fingers tapping a quiet rhythm against the armrest. Henry, on the other hand, was lost in his thoughts, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the windows, yet his words still carried the weight of truth.

“You know, Emma,” Henry began, breaking the silence. “You’re different.”

Emma turned her attention to him, her brow furrowed in curiosity. “What’s that?”

“You’re the only one who can do it,” Henry said, his voice steady. “The only one who can leave.”

Emma’s face twitched, surprised by the sudden change in direction. “Leave? What are you talking about?”

Henry’s expression remained serious, his eyes locking onto hers. “Leave Storybrooke. You can go. You’re the savior.”

Emma blinked in confusion. “You’re telling me that I can just leave? But you came to find me in Boston. You didn’t leave. So what’s the difference?”

Harry, who had been quietly observing, let out a soft chuckle before speaking. “Sounds like Henry’s trying to make sense of a whole lot of things. But what he’s saying... It’s true. You’re the one who can make a choice others can’t.”

Henry nodded, adding, “I didn’t have a choice. I had to come back. I was ten, but you—you can leave. You can do whatever you want. That’s what makes you different.”

Emma’s heart hammered against her chest, the weight of her son’s words sinking deep within her. She had been running for so long, but maybe—just maybe—it was time to stop. To confront the very thing she had been avoiding. To leave. Before she could respond, a voice interrupted their thoughts. “Ms. Swan?” The obstetrician approached them, smiling. “The baby is a healthy six-pound girl, and the mother is doing fine.”

Emma breathed a sigh of relief, her worry ebbing away as she rose to her feet, her hand instinctively reaching for Harry’s. “Great news,” Harry said softly, looking at Emma with a reassuring smile.

But just as they were about to head toward Ashley’s room, the familiar voice of Mr. Gold echoed from the hallway. “What lovely news. Excellent work, Ms. Swan. Thank you for bringing me my merchandise.”

Emma’s stomach churned at the sound of his voice, her eyes narrowing. She exchanged a glance with Harry before they both turned toward the coffee vending machine where Mr. Gold stood, a cup in his hand.

“Mr. Gold,” Emma said with forced politeness, her eyes locking onto his. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, Ms. Swan,” Mr. Gold’s lips curled into a thin smile as he sipped his coffee. “I’m just enjoying the fruits of your labor. I must say, it’s quite the stroke of luck for me today. Care for a cup?”

“No, thank you,” Emma replied tersely, her gaze never leaving him. “A baby? That’s your merchandise? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Emma didn’t hesitate, her eyes narrowing at him. “A baby? That’s your merchandise? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mr. Gold chuckled, seemingly unfazed by her accusatory tone. “Well, because at the time, you didn’t need to know.”

Emma’s frustration simmered. “Really, or you thought I wouldn’t take the job?”

“On the contrary,” Mr. Gold responded smoothly, his smile a little too wide. “I thought it would be more effective if you found out yourself. After seeing Ashley’s hard life, I thought it would make sense... to you. I mean, if anyone could understand the reasons behind giving up a baby, I assumed it would be you.”

Emma clenched her fists at her sides. “You’re not getting that kid.”

“Actually,” Mr. Gold replied, his expression unchanging, “we have an agreement. And my agreements are always honored. If not, I’m going to have to involve the police, and that baby is going to end up in the system. And that would be a pity. You didn’t enjoy your time in the system, did you, Emma?”

Emma stood her ground, her voice cold. “That’s not gonna happen.”

Harry, who had been silent up until now, stepped forward. His voice was firm, a stark contrast to Mr. Gold’s calculated calm. “You think threatening Emma will work? Maybe you should look around, Gold. People in this town don’t scare easy.”

Mr. Gold’s eyes flickered briefly with a mix of irritation and curiosity. He eyed Harry but didn’t respond, instead continuing his tactic of playing the situation to his advantage.

“I like your confidence,” Mr. Gold said, the faintest hint of admiration creeping into his voice. “Charming, but all I have to do is press charges. She did, after all, break into my shop.”

Emma was quick to counter. “Let me guess, to steal a contract.”

Mr. Gold smirked. “Who knows what she was after?”

Emma narrowed her eyes, undeterred. “You know, no jury in the world will put a woman in jail whose only reason for breaking and entering was to keep her child. I’m willing to roll the dice so that the contract doesn’t stand up. Are you? Not to mention what might come out about you in the process. Somehow I suspect there is more to you than a simple pawnbroker. You really want to start that fight?”

Harry stepped closer to Emma, his eyes never leaving Mr. Gold’s face. “Just letting you know, Gold, that fight might be one you can’t win.”

For a moment, Mr. Gold’s eyes shifted, assessing both Emma and Harry. He was quiet for a beat longer than usual before his lips curled into a smile—almost like a predator sizing up its prey.

“I like you, Ms. Swan,” Mr. Gold said, his voice low and smooth. “You’re not afraid of me, and that’s either cocky or presumptuous. Either way, I’d rather have you on my side.”

Emma didn’t flinch. “So she can keep the baby?”

Mr. Gold tilted his head slightly, his expression hardening. “Not just yet. There’s still the matter of my agreement with Ms. Boyd.”

Emma’s eyes flashed with resolve. “Tear it up.”

“That’s not what I do,” Mr. Gold said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You see, contracts, deals, well, they’re the very foundation of all civilized existence. So I put it to you now: If you want Ashley to have that baby, are you willing to make a deal with me?”

Emma’s jaw clenched, but Harry was the first to speak, his voice steady as he addressed Mr. Gold.

“You don’t trust him, Emma,” Harry said. “This isn’t the time to make deals with the devil.”

Mr. Gold chuckled softly, unfazed by Harry’s words. “Oh, Ms. Swan. I assure you, it’s not a deal with the devil. But a deal nonetheless. And if you want Ashley to have that baby, then I’ll be needing something in return.”

Emma didn’t back down, sizing Mr. Gold up as if she were weighing the consequences. “What do you want?”

Harry stood by her side, arms crossed, still wary of Mr. Gold’s every move. “You don’t trust him, Emma. This isn’t the time to make deals with the devil.”

Mr. Gold’s smile widened, his voice low and deliberate. “Oh, I don’t know just yet. You’ll owe me a favor.”

Emma sized him up, her eyes narrowing. “Deal.”

With the agreement made, Emma, Harry, and Henry walked toward Ashley’s room. As they entered, they found Ashley holding her new daughter, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Hey,” Emma said softly, her gaze drifting to the little bundle in Ashley’s arms. “What’s her name?”

Ashley smiled faintly, her voice tinged with exhaustion but full of warmth. “Alexandra.”

“That’s pretty,” Emma said, her heart swelling with emotion. “She’s beautiful.”

Ashley’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Thank you for getting me here.”

Emma nodded, her gaze steady. “Mr. Gold was outside. I took care of it. She’s yours.”

Ashley blinked her expression a mixture of relief and disbelief. “She is? But what did you do?”

Emma met her eyes, her voice soft but firm. “Made a deal with him.”

Ashley’s face lit up, her tears finally falling. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Emma gave a small smile and turned to Henry, who was looking at her with a mix of admiration and uncertainty. “Oh, hey kid, it’s almost 5:00. You gotta get home.”

Emma offered to give Harry a ride but Harry refused. He said that he was gonna stay with Ashley just in case anything went wrong. Emma and Henry quickly left the hospital, the weight of the day pressing on Emma’s shoulders as they headed out into the night. Emma brought Henry home and she actually took Harry's offer to be a part of the police as a deputy to Graham.

 

Chapter 6: Heart Of A Dragon

Notes:

Here's the chapter with one Hiccup Haddock. I was planning to have it out after the Jiminy Cricket episode but I figured that this would be better. Also, you will get an early sneak peek of Killian Jones AKA Hook in this chapter. Heads up there will be some sad scenes in this so if you want to skip it feel free but if you want to read it, grab some tissues. Enjoy.

(On Berk)

This is Berk, it's twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing death. It's located solidly on the meridian of misery. A village that's in a word sturdy has been there for seven generations but every single building is new. They have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests. Most people have mice or mosquitoes, they have dragons. Most people think it's dangerous to hunt dragons but they're Vikings, it's an occupational hazard.

One fourteen-year-old Viking kid named Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III ran out of the forge with his invention to the cliff. He set it up and was ready to shoot down a dragon. He waited and waited for a dragon to come in range. Suddenly he heard a high-pitched roar through the air, then saw something firing at a sea stack. He caught a small black dragon silhouette zoom past him and he fired a net straight at it. Hiccup tumbled backward but he then heard the net something and the dragon roaring in pain and falling straight into the woods. "Oh, I did it? Yes, I hit it! Did anybody see that?" Hiccup said with pride.

However, a Monstrous Nightmare spoiled Hiccup's fun. It crushed Hiccup's invention and started chasing him. Hiccup dodged the blasts of fire and hid behind a wooden post. The Nightmare fired at the post but it only hit the front side. Hiccup could feel the fear crawling up to him, the Nightmare tried to do a sneak attack on him but suddenly, the chief grabbed the Nightmare and shoved it back. The Nightmare had run out of firepower so the chief punched the dragon and scared it off. The wooden pole crumbled and started to fall on the village, making at least half of the captured dragons free and flying off with half of the livestock.

The chief, Stoick the Vast and Hiccup's father, looked at Hiccup with a look of anger. "Ok, but I hit a Night Fury." Hiccup stated to his father.

Stoick grabbed Hiccup by his arm and dragged him back into the village square. "Just stop! Every time you step out, disaster happens! Winter is almost here and I have an entire village to feed!" Stoick shouted at Hiccup.

Stoick asks Gobber to take Hiccup back to the house while he cleans up the mess Hiccup made. As Hiccup walked back to the house, he could see the looks he got from the rest of the village along with hearing the other teens mocking him. Just for once, he would like to have his voice to be heard. Deep within the woods, Hiccup had snuck out of his house to find the Night Fury that he shot down. The poor boy searched for hours and still no sign of the Night Fury. Hiccup started to doubt that he'd find it "The gods hate me." he stated, "Some people lose a knife or a mug. But not me, I managed to have lost an entire dragon."

He slapped away a dead tree branch but it hit him back in the eye. He took a look at the rest of the tree, it was almost destroyed. The rest of the damage made something like a trail for Hiccup to follow. He reached a small hill and walked up it to see that the Night Fury he shot down was there. He ducked down thinking the dragon was going to attack him but it didn't. Hiccup slowly walked towards the Night Fury, he finally did it, he could fix everything with his village.

Hiccup pulled out a small knife and pointed it at the dragon. He was gonna do it, he was gonna kill that dragon and make his father proud. He raised the knife over his head ready to kill but the dragon looked at him with sad eyes. He tried to shake it off but he looked at the Night Fury and he saw himself within its reflection. He dropped the knife, he couldn't kill the dragon "I did this." Hiccup muttered.

Just as Hiccup was about to walk away, he realized that he couldn't leave the Night Fury trapped like that forever. He knew what he had to do. He took his knife and started cutting the ropes off the Night Fury. The dragon could feel its legs feeling more than its own body. Hiccup cut the last rope but suddenly the Night Fury pounced on him. The dragon looked at Hiccup with anger, Hiccup thought the dragon was gonna kill him but it did something else. The dragon just roared in his face and ran off. Hiccup was panting like he had a heart attack but slowly got up from the ground. He didn't understand, why would the dragon spare his life?

(Storybrooke)

Another day in Storybrooke. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the streets buzzed with life. Amid the hum of activity, no one was busier than Harry Jones, the town's so-called guardian angel. The nickname, though kind, felt like a burden sometimes. It came from his relentless dedication to helping others; whether assisting the Sheriff with patrols, rushing orders at Granny's with Ruby, soothing Dr. Hopper's nervous patients, tutoring children alongside Mary Margaret, or even lending Mr. Gold a hand in his mysterious pawnshop. But of all his jobs, the stables and the animal shelter were Harry's haven.

There, among the creatures who couldn't speak for themselves, he found solace. It wasn't just about the animals, though, they reminded him of home. A place he hadn't had in as long as he could remember. Though he poured his heart into helping others, a quiet part of him wondered if anyone would ever do the same for him. That afternoon, Henry surprised Harry at the animal shelter, Emma tagging along. Her curiosity turned to shock as she took in the sheer number of responsibilities the young man juggled. "So why does Harry spend so much time here?" Emma asked, watching him emerge from the shelter with two German Shepherds on leashes.

Henry smiled, admiration shining in his eyes. "He told me it reminds him of home. He gave Pongo to Archie, you know. He just... wants to help anyone who can't help themselves. That's why everyone calls him the guardian angel."

Harry noticed them and offered a polite nod but kept his focus. The dogs tugged eagerly on their leashes as he led them toward the woods for their daily walk, a task he took seriously. After all, this wasn't just a stroll; it was a mission to rescue and rehabilitate injured wildlife. Emma asked if she could join, and though Harry hesitated, he allowed her to come along. She took one of the leashes while Henry followed closely, his fairytale book tucked under one arm. "Henry, what are you doing?" Harry asked when the boy strayed from the path.

"I'm looking for Toothless. He's your best friend," Henry said, flipping to a page in his book.

Harry sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Henry, we've been over this. That's just a story."

But Henry wasn't deterred. He turned the book toward Harry, pointing at an illustration of a dragon and its rider. "See? That's Toothless. He's a Night Fury. And this rider? That's you. Your real name is Hiccup Haddock."

Before Harry could respond, a sharp cry of pain pierced the woods. The dogs perked up, their ears swiveling to pinpoint the sound. Harry didn't hesitate—he handed Emma the second leash and sprinted toward the noise. At the bottom of a steep hill, he found the source: a black wolf caught in a hunter's trap. The animal was in bad shape, its leg twisted and broken, its dark fur matted with blood. Something about the wolf felt... familiar. Like an old memory just out of reach.

"Easy," Harry murmured, crouching low.

He pulled a pocket knife from his jacket and began cutting away the net. The wolf growled, its teeth bared, but Harry's voice remained calm and steady. "It's okay. I'm here to help."

The wolf stilled, its golden eyes locking with Harry's. For a moment, the world seemed to fall silent. Even Henry, watching from the ridge above, could sense the connection. Once freed, the wolf tried to stand but collapsed, too weak to move. Harry gently scooped the animal into his arms, ignoring its half-hearted growl of protest. "Let's get you some help," he said softly.

Back at the shelter, the vet assured Harry they would do everything they could to save the wolf, but hours passed with no news. Henry fidgeted nervously while Harry sat in quiet, brooding silence. Finally, a vet emerged. "The wolf will be fine," she said, "but we had to amputate the leg. It was too far gone."

Harry nodded, relief mingling with guilt. He'd saved the animal but at a cost. Before he could dwell on it, Regina burst into the shelter, her heels clicking sharply against the tile. Her expression was a mix of fury and disdain. "Why is there a dangerous animal here?" she demanded.

"I found him in the woods. He was hurt. I couldn't leave him," Harry said, his tone even but firm.

Regina's eyes narrowed. "This wolf doesn't belong here. I want it gone by the end of the week, or I'll handle it myself."

Emma stepped forward, anger flashing in her eyes. "The wolf's injured. You can't just—"

Regina cut her off with a glare. "It's not your concern, Miss Swan." She turned on her heel, dragging Henry with her.

"Harry, why do you let her walk all over you?" Emma asked once Regina was out of earshot.

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he turned and walked back into the shelter, leaving Emma alone with her question.

(On Berk)

Hiccup thought his luck would change when he tried to tell his dad that he didn't want to kill dragons but he jinxed it. His dad signed him up for dragon-killing training with the other teens. It wasn't his day, the first lesson was with a Gronckle, and Hiccup almost got killed. After the lesson, Hiccup went back out into the woods to find the Night Fury. He wanted some answers about why the Night Fury let him go. Hiccup went deeper and deeper into the woods until he found a hidden cove. He didn't see the Night Fury anywhere. Just as he was about to give up, he found scales from a Night Fury on the edge.

He picked one of them up then heard the Night Fury's call and spotted it trying to climb up the cliff but failed. Hiccup got a little closer to examine the Night Fury. He took out his journal and started drawing the Night Fury. He saw that the Night Fury couldn't fly out of the cove. "Why don't you just fly away?" Hiccup asked.

He saw that the Night Fury only had one tail fin, the other one must have been cut off from Hiccup's net. He felt so guilty, he didn't mean to hurt the dragon. The dragon looked up and saw Hiccup, it didn't charge at him it just stared at him. Hiccup flinched when the dragon saw him, but it just still stared at him. Just as Hiccup was about to leave, he lost his footing and fell off the edge. He crashed straight into the lake below, he couldn't swim very well and kept sinking. His vision started to cloud up, and his arms and legs started to give out.

Suddenly, something dove down into the lake and grabbed Hiccup by the back of his shirt. It pulled him out of the water and dragged him onto the shore. Hiccup slowly started to regain consciousness and his vision started to clear up. Hiccup slowly got up but he felt a gentle paw on his chest, pushing him back down. It was the Night Fury, it saved him. The Night Fury took its paw off of Hiccup and turned around to the lake. "What is the name of Thor are you doing?" Hiccup asked.

The Night Fury caught a fish and swallowed it whole. It turned back to Hiccup and walked over to him. Hiccup crawled back till he hit a rock thinking the Night Fury was gonna hurt him. Instead, it regurgitated half of the fish and spat it out onto Hiccup's lap. It looked like the dragon was sharing its meal with Hiccup. He didn't want the dragon to feel bad so Hiccup took a bite of the fish and managed to swallow it. Hiccup looked at the dragon with a smile and it learned how to smile too. Hiccup looked up at the sky and saw storm clouds rolling in. "I should go. Thanks again for saving me." Hiccup said to the dragon.

Just as Hiccup was about to leave, the dragon stopped him from leaving. "Hey, what are you doing?" Hiccup asked.

The rain came pouring down as the dragon pushed Hiccup inside a hidden cave. The dragon used its fire to warm up the cave floor to keep it and Hiccup warm. Hiccup was shocked that the dragon was helping him. He started to think that maybe dragons weren't so bad after all.

(Storybrooke)

Harry headed into the dog kennel to check on the wolf. Emma's words from earlier echoed in his mind. Why do you let Regina walk all over you? He wasn't a pushover, but refusing Regina always came with consequences; ones he couldn't afford. He reached the kennel housing the wolf and knelt to inspect him. The right hind leg was already amputated, a clean bandage covering the stump. Guilt surged through Harry's chest as he stared at the injured animal. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

But even as he apologized, another question gnawed at him: Who had set that trap in the woods? The thought consumed him as the day dragged on. By nightfall, he decided to investigate. But first, he stopped by the abandoned blacksmith shop. It was one of his sanctuaries, a place where the heat of the forge and the clang of metal on metal offered solace. He worked tirelessly, crafting a prosthetic leg for the wolf. The design had to be perfect; lightweight but durable. By the time he finished, the sun was beginning to rise. Exhausted but determined, Harry returned to the spot where he had found the wolf.

He examined the net he'd brought back, his fingers running over the coarse fibers. A flash of recognition hit him, he knew these nets. Before he could process the memory, something struck the back of his head. Pain exploded, and the world went dark.

The next morning, Henry snuck away from Mary Margaret's class trip to the animal shelter. He darted to the back of the kennels, where the wolf was resting. Kneeling beside the cage, he opened his fairytale book. "I know who you are," he whispered. "You're Toothless, the Night Fury. The only one who remembers the curse."

The wolf's golden eyes locked on Henry, its expression unreadable. Henry flipped to a specific page in the book, showing an illustration of a boy and a dragon under a starry sky. "See? This is you and Hiccup. He asked the Blue Fairy to cast a spell so you'd remember him. You're not just a wolf; you're his best friend. His brother."

For a moment, the wolf seemed skeptical, its ears twitching as though weighing the truth in Henry's words. But then it glanced at the page again, something clicking in its gaze. Henry leaned closer. Toothless blinked, the curiosity in his gaze deepening. Henry grinned. "I think if I can get you to Hiccup—er, Harry—it might break part of the curse."

The wolf let out a soft whine, then began nudging the kennel door with its nose, pawing at the latch. Henry understood immediately. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he carefully unlatched the door. "Follow me, but stay out of sight," he whispered.

The wolf slipped out silently, trailing Henry as he rejoined Mary Margaret's group. Meanwhile, Emma and Graham were already at the shelter, talking to Mary Margaret about a missing person case. "It's Harry," Emma explained to Henry when he joined them. "No one's seen him since last night. He didn't show up for work."

"Did you check his cabin? He might be sick," Mary Margaret suggested.

Emma shook her head. "No sign of him there. I think he's been taken."

Henry overheard the conversation as he rejoined the group. "I know where his cabin is," he offered quickly.

Henry guides them to Harry's cabin, a small, unassuming structure on the edge of town. Inside, it was cluttered but oddly homey. Emma and Graham began searching for clues. "Well, one thing about Harry," Emma muttered as she sorted through stacks of papers on his desk, "he's not exactly organized."

Graham scanned the room, noting small details; a worn-out blanket on the couch, and an old photo frame turned face down. Emma, meanwhile, sifted through the paperwork: medical bills, therapy notes from Dr. Hopper's office, and sketches of what looked like mechanical designs. "What's with all the hospital bills?" Emma asked, holding up a particularly thick stack.

"Harry splits patient notes with Dr. Hopper sometimes," Graham explained. "As for the medical bills... I'm not sure."

Emma examined the bills more closely. They detailed treatment for an eating disorder, therapy for severe depression, and emergency care for panic attacks. Her brows furrowed as a clearer picture of Harry's struggles began to emerge. Emma's jaw tightened. "All those jobs—he's been paying for this treatment himself."

Graham kept searching while Emma headed to the hospital to speak with Dr. Whale. Dr. Whale greeted Emma in his usual brusque manner. "What brings you here, Ms. Swan?"

"I need to know about Harry," Emma said. "He's missing, and I found some hospital bills. What's wrong with him?"

Dr. Whale sighed. "Harry's been seeing me for months. He's dealing with severe depression, stemming from trauma in the foster system."

Emma's voice softened. "What kind of trauma?"

"Abusive foster families and orphanages," Dr. Whale replied grimly. "He started having flashbacks after he arrived in Storybrooke. They triggered panic attacks—serious ones. At one point, we thought we might lose him."

Emma swallowed hard. "And the eating disorder?"

"It's connected to his depression. He overworks himself to the point of collapse. Those jobs he takes? They're to pay for treatment."

Emma's frustration boiled over. "Hasn't anyone offered to help him? To give him a home?"

"Many of us have," Dr. Whale said. "Dr. Hopper, Mary Margaret, Ruby—even Gold. But he always refuses. He never gives a reason."

Emma frowned. "That kid needs a family. When we find him, I'll make sure he gets one."

Dr. Whale's expression softened. "Start with the abandoned blacksmith shop. He goes there when he wants to be alone."

Emma nodded. "Thank you." As she turned to leave, her voice dropped to a whisper. "Harry, what happened to you?"

When Harry woke, he was tied to a chair in a dimly lit room. His mouth was taped shut, muffling his groans of pain and confusion. He blinked against the fog clouding his vision, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. Whoever had taken him didn't want to be found. The dim bulb above flickered as Harry strained against his bindings, his wrists raw from the coarse rope. The man's voice, sharp and mocking, echoed in the room. Harry's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, but his thoughts were as tangled as the knot in his stomach. "Still quiet, huh?" the man said, his tone laced with amusement.

He stepped closer, finally lowering the hood that had obscured his face. Harry blinked, his confusion deepening as he took in the man's modern appearance. His fiery red hair was cut short on the sides but left wild on top, styled in a way that made him look both chaotic and intentional. His leather jacket was adorned with patches, the most prominent of which was a dragon-like emblem stitched across the back. A jagged scar ran from his brow to his cheekbone, cutting through his pale skin and giving him a menacing edge. "The name's Damon," the man said, smirking. "Not that it'll mean much to you. But you? You're a bit of a legend."

Harry frowned, his confusion growing. "Legend?" he rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse. "I don't even know you."

Damon tilted his head, his grin widening as though he found Harry's ignorance amusing. "Oh, that's rich. You don't remember, do you? The curse did a number on you, Harry—or should I call you Hiccup?" He let the name hang in the air, watching for a reaction.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Hiccup?" The name felt foreign, yet it sparked something deep within him—a faint, flickering memory just out of reach. "What are you talking about?"

Damon laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "You really don't remember! That's adorable. Let me spell it out for you: you're not just some handyman in a nowhere town. You were a warrior, a dragon rider. And me?" He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I was your worst nightmare."

Harry shook his head, his pulse quickening. "You're insane. I've never ridden a dragon. Dragons aren't even real."

"Oh, they're real," Damon said, his tone dripping with menace. "But thanks to the curse, you're just a shadow of who you were. Toothless remembers, though." His grin widened as Harry's eyes widened at the mention of the wolf. "That's right. Your 'wolf' is no ordinary mutt. He's been waiting for you to wake up, to remember."

Harry's breath hitched as pieces of Damon's words began to chip away at his disbelief. Memories tugged at the edges of his mind; flashes of a night sky, the feel of wind against his face, the warmth of a creature at his side. But as quickly as they came, they vanished, leaving him more confused than ever. "I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, his voice unsteady. "I'm just Harry. I don't know any dragons, and I sure as hell don't know you."

Damon's expression darkened, his amusement giving way to something far more dangerous. "You can deny it all you want, but it doesn't matter. The curse may have buried the truth, but it can't erase it. You're Hiccup Haddock, and you're a threat to everything I've built here."

Harry's heart pounded in his chest. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded, his voice rising despite his fear.

"Because you don't belong here," Damon said coldly. "This town, this life—it's not yours. And if you remember who you are, everything unravels. I can't let that happen."

Before Harry could respond, Damon straightened and began pacing. "But I'm not unreasonable," he said, his tone shifting back to mockery. "Maybe you'll see things my way. Or maybe I'll have to remind you why you feared me in the first place."

Harry clenched his fists, his frustration and fear boiling over. "I don't fear you," he spat, though his trembling voice betrayed him.

Damon chuckled, a sinister gleam in his eye. "Oh, you will."

(Berk)

Weeks had passed since Hiccup had first met the dragon. Every day after Dragon Training, he'd sneak away to the cove where the creature—now his closest friend—waited. They worked on building trust, Hiccup earning the dragon's cautious respect with patience and care. Over time, he had fashioned a new prosthetic tail fin for the dragon, which he discovered was unable to fly properly on its own. Their bond grew as they spent countless hours practicing flight, the dragon's movements gradually becoming smoother and more confident. Hiccup found himself learning just as much.

Through trial and error with his new friend, he picked up techniques that set him apart in Dragon Training. His sudden rise to the top of the class caught the attention of everyone, especially Astrid, who watched him with a mix of admiration and suspicion. One day, emboldened by their growing connection, Hiccup and the dragon took their first real flight beyond the cove. They soared over the island, the wind rushing past as they climbed higher and higher, feeling a freedom Hiccup had never known. For a brief, shining moment, he forgot all his worries. But reality came crashing back when he returned to the village.

Stoick had decided to observe the final test between Hiccup and Astrid, eager to see his son claim his place as a true Viking. In the ring, Hiccup won decisively, easily outmaneuvering the dragon thanks to the skills he had learned with his secret companion. The crowd erupted in cheers, but Hiccup felt no pride. The thought of killing a dragon—especially after knowing their true nature—twisted his stomach in knots. After the celebration, Hiccup made a choice. He gathered a few belongings into a satchel and headed to the cove. The dragon was there, waiting patiently as always.

"We're leaving, bud," Hiccup said softly, brushing a hand along the dragon's snout. "I don't belong here with them. I want to live somewhere we can both be free. We leave at sundown."

But he wasn't alone. Unbeknownst to him, someone had followed. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Hiccup prepared to mount the dragon. Suddenly, a net came flying through the air, trapping the creature. Hiccup barely had time to react before Stoick and a group of villagers descended upon them, armed with axes and swords.

"Toothless!" Hiccup cried, rushing toward his friend, but Gobber stepped in and grabbed him.

"Easy, lad," Gobber said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "This isn't your fight."

Hiccup struggled against Gobber's grip, his desperation overpowering his fear. "He's my best friend! I'm not going to let you hurt him!"

Breaking free, Hiccup ran to stand between Stoick and the trapped dragon. "Stop! If you kill him, you'll have to kill me too!"

Stoick looked at Hiccup with disbelief, his son was defending a dragon. Stoick finally realized that Hiccup had been lying to him all this time. Stoick became raging red with anger, he ordered a few men to put Toothless in the Dragon Killing Ring with the other dragons. Hiccup's heart dropped; he rushed forward, trying to get to Toothless, but Stoick grabbed him by the arm, dragging him toward the Great Hall. "You're coming with me," Stoick growled, his grip tight as he shoved Hiccup into the hall and slammed the doors shut behind them. "I should've seen the signs," Stoick said through clenched teeth, pacing angrily.

"Dad..." Hiccup began, his voice shaky but resolute.

"We had a deal!" Stoick shouted, turning on his son.

"I wanted to tell you," Hiccup whispered, trying to hold back the tears, "but it just got out of hand. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"And all that training? A trick? More lies?" Stoick's eyes burned with betrayal.

"No, Dad," Hiccup replied, his voice breaking. "You can yell at me all you want, but I never wanted any of this. Just punish me, okay? Just don't hurt Toothless."

"The dragon?!" Stoick sneered. "You're more worried about the dragon? Not the people he could've killed?!"

Hiccup stood tall, defiant even as his heart broke. "He was protecting me! He thought you were going to hurt me!"

Stoick's face contorted with rage. "They've killed hundreds of us!"

"And we've killed thousands of them!" Hiccup shot back, his voice shaking with emotion. "We think they're monsters, but have you ever considered that maybe they're just trying to provide for their families too?"

Stoick's fists clenched. "I've had enough of this, Hiccup! Dragons are nothing more than bloodthirsty beasts!"

"Not Toothless!" Hiccup shouted, his voice raw. "Toothless isn't like that! He saved my life! I wouldn't call that being a monster."

Stoick's eyes hardened, and his voice became a low growl. "Have you forgotten what they've done to us? To your mother?" He paused the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "She thought the same thing, and look what happened to her. She was taken by a dragon."

Hiccup's breath caught in his throat, the mention of his mother cutting deeper than any insult could. "Don't bring Mom into this!" he shouted, tears welling in his eyes. "I found her journal. She believed dragons were gentle creatures, and you know what? She was right! I don't know what she ever saw in you, but I'm glad I take after her and not you!"

Stoick's rage boiled over, and before Hiccup could even react, he slapped him across the face. Hiccup fell to the ground, stunned by the force of the blow. Stoick stood over him, trembling with fury. "You side with them. You're not a Viking. You're not my son." He turned away, his words sharp and final. "I hereby sentence you and your beast to death tomorrow at dawn."

Hiccup looked up, his voice barely a whisper. "If I have to die, then let me be with Toothless. He shouldn't suffer for what I've done."

With those words, Stoick dragged Hiccup to the Dragon Killing Ring, pushing him inside the cell where Toothless was already locked up. He slammed the door shut and left Hiccup alone, the cold, hard steel between them. All of Hiccup's anger, all his frustration, melted away into heartbreak and despair. He sank to the ground, his tears falling freely. Toothless, sensing his friend's pain, walked over and wrapped his wings around Hiccup in a protective embrace. "I'm sorry, bud," Hiccup whispered, his voice breaking. "This is all my fault."

Nightfall settled over the village, but inside the Killing Ring, Hiccup was anything but calm. His heart raced with thoughts of freedom, of escape—anything to avoid the painful fate that awaited them both. Suddenly, the sounds of shouting and clashing weapons echoed through the village. Hiccup stood up, straining against the bars of the cage. What was going on? A ship unlike anything Hiccup had ever seen was docked on the shore. Its crew, armed and ready for a fight, spilled onto the docks, their footsteps heavy. At their helm was a tall, dark figure—leather-clad with a hook for a hand. Hiccup's heart skipped a beat.

"Pirates..." he murmured, barely able to process what was happening.

(Storybrooke)

Graham scoured Harry's cabin, searching every nook and cranny for clues. Papers were scattered across the desk, sketches and notes blending into a chaotic jumble. Henry, however, was drawn to a particular set of drawings; blueprints for what looked like a prosthetic leg for a wolf. His fingers traced the lines, admiration flickering in his gaze, but then something caught his attention: a soft growl from the doorway. Toothless stood there, his golden eyes fixed on Henry, the wolf's demeanor almost pleading. "I'm gonna get some air," Henry told Graham, slipping the blueprints under his arm as he headed outside.

Toothless sniffed at the blueprints eagerly, his sharp nose catching Harry's scent. Henry knelt beside the wolf. "Can you find him?" he whispered. Toothless let out a soft whine before sniffing the ground, then bolted toward the woods, his movements swift and purposeful.

"Wait up!" Henry called, chasing after him.

Toothless led him through the forest, weaving between trees and overgrown brush until they reached the abandoned blacksmith's shop. The old building was dark, its weathered facade blending with the shadows of the forest. Henry hesitated, glancing around nervously before stepping inside. The shop was eerily quiet, the faint smell of ash and rust still lingering in the air. Toothless didn't pause, his nose pressed to the ground as he sniffed for more of Harry's scent. He led Henry to a heavy wooden desk, stopping abruptly and pawing at the floor beneath it.

"What is it?" Henry murmured, crouching beside him.

Toothless growled softly, his gaze fixed on the desk. Henry pushed against it with all his strength, the desk scraping loudly across the floor. Beneath it lay a trapdoor, its edges worn and splintered with age. Henry hesitated, his heart pounding as he reached for the handle. Just as his fingers grasped it, a hand touched his shoulder. He yelped and spun around to see Graham standing behind him, his expression both curious and concerned. "Anything you'd like to share?" Graham asked, raising an eyebrow.

Henry swallowed hard, trying to explain. "I... I saw the wolf outside. He tracked Harry's scent to here. I think he might be down there."

Graham's gaze flicked to the trapdoor, then to Toothless, who growled impatiently. "Stay close," he ordered Henry before pulling the door open.

Toothless didn't wait for an invitation. He leaped down into the dark space below, his movements determined. Henry and Graham followed, descending into what appeared to be a small, makeshift cellar. The air was damp and stale, the faint glow from above barely illuminating the room. Toothless let out a loud howl, his voice echoing off the walls. At the far end of the cellar, a figure stirred. "Harry," Graham breathed, rushing forward.

Harry was slumped in a chair, his wrists and ankles bound, a strip of duct tape over his mouth. His skin was pale, his breathing shallow. Toothless barked and howled, nuzzling against Harry's limp hand, but there was no response. Graham tore at the ropes, freeing Harry from the chair and peeling the tape from his mouth. Harry's head lolled to the side, his weight sagging against Graham. "He's dehydrated, malnourished," Graham muttered. "He needs help—fast."

Above them, the sound of footsteps echoed. Emma and Regina appeared at the top of the stairs, their faces tense. Henry trailed behind them, worry etched into his features. "Where's the perp?" Emma asked as she descended.

Before Graham could respond, Toothless let out a low growl. His body stiffened as his nose twitched, catching a new scent. He darted toward the far corner of the room, his growl deepening. From the shadows emerged a man with wild, piercing eyes and a smirk that chilled Henry to the bone.

"Damon," Graham said, his tone sharp with recognition.

The man tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Sherrif," he drawled. "Fancy meeting you here. I was just about to—"

Before he could finish, Toothless lunged at him, his jaws snapping. Damon dodged the wolf's attack, his smirk faltering for a moment as he reached for the knife at his belt. Graham stepped forward, his gun drawn. "Don't even think about it," Graham warned.

Damon raised his hands in mock surrender, though his eyes remained calculating. "Fine. You caught me," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But do you even know who this kid really is? What he's hiding?"

Emma ignored him, her focus on Harry. "Graham, cuff him. We'll deal with his questions later."

Graham secured Damon's wrists as Toothless kept a wary eye on him, his growl never ceasing. Emma knelt beside Harry, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "We need to get him to the hospital now," she said, her voice tight with urgency.

She lifted him carefully, her strength steady despite his weight. Damon chuckled as he was led upstairs. "You think you've won, but this is far from over. Harry can't run from the truth forever."

Emma shot him a glare. "Let us worry about Harry. You can rot in a jail cell."

Toothless stayed close to Harry as they ascended, his protective presence a silent reminder of their unbreakable bond. For now, Harry was safe, but Damon's words hung in the air, a foreboding echo of challenges yet to come.

(Berk)

As soon as Hiccup heard the sound of a strange ship docking in the distance, his curiosity shot through the roof. The deep, rumbling tones of the ship's anchor hitting the shore reached his ears, and he knew something was happening. His heart raced with a mix of excitement and worry. He needed to escape, but how? He turned to look at Toothless, who was already moving as if understanding Hiccup's thoughts before he even had the chance to form them. Toothless had rallied the other dragons, and together they worked swiftly, their combined strength enough to blast through the thick wooden door of the cell.

The sound of the impact echoed through the Killing Ring, and Hiccup's heart skipped a beat. He was free. The dragons had made their move, and now, it was time for him to act. With Toothless close behind, Hiccup made his way around the outskirts of the village, careful to avoid the villagers who were still occupied with the pirate crew that had arrived. He couldn't risk being seen; he needed to figure out what was going on with this strange new arrival. They crept toward the shore, their footsteps muffled by the soft grass, until they found a good vantage point, hidden behind the rocks at the water's edge.

From their spot, they could see the captain of the ship step ashore. His dark clothing and weathered features stood in stark contrast to the villagers, who were now gathered to confront him. Stoick's booming voice carried over the crowd. "Who are you? Why have you come here?"

The pirate captain looked around with a devil-may-care grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. He took a theatrical bow, his coat fluttering with the motion. "Ahh, right where are my manners? Names Killian Jones, captain of the Jolly Roger," he said smoothly. "Or as others prefer to call me, Hook. At your service."

Hiccup watched from behind the rocks, fascinated. This man, with his charisma and confidence, was nothing like anyone Hiccup had ever met before. Killian's tales of faraway lands, places beyond Hiccup's wildest dreams, filled the air. The pirate spoke of treasures, distant islands, and adventures that made Hiccup's heart stir with longing. Could it be possible? Was there more to the world than the island he had been confined to his whole life? Hiccup glanced at Toothless, who was just as curious as he was. Hiccup motioned for the dragon to follow him, knowing that now was their chance.

No one was paying attention to them, caught up in the pirate's grand speech. They silently snuck aboard the Jolly Roger, with only the sound of their quiet footsteps and the occasional flick of a dragon's tail to betray them. The captain's quarters were a treasure trove of items from distant lands. Hiccup's eyes widened at the sight of ancient maps, shimmering trinkets, and strange artifacts. But something caught his eye. On the captain's desk lay a single bean, gleaming under the dim light. It was unlike anything Hiccup had ever seen, and his curiosity surged. He reached out to touch it, but before his fingers made contact, the door to the cabin suddenly swung open.

"Ah, well now, what have we here?" the captain's voice rang out, smooth as silk. "Not many people can sneak into me cabin without me noticing. What's your name, lad?"

Hiccup froze, panic rising in his chest. "H-Hiccup," he stammered, too startled to lie.

The pirate raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Hiccup, eh? Interesting name. What are you doing in here, sneaking around on my ship?"

"I... I was just—" Hiccup started, but the words caught in his throat. He had no idea how to explain himself without sounding like a thief.

"Calm down there, lad," the captain interrupted with a reassuring smile. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Hiccup breathed a sigh of relief but didn't move. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to—"

"Not until you tell me why you're on my ship in the first place," Killian said firmly, his smile fading just a little.

Hiccup hesitated, then glanced at Toothless, who was quietly standing in the shadows, his eyes glinting in the dim light. Hiccup's heart pounded in his chest. Should he tell this man the truth? Could he trust him? Finally, Hiccup spoke, his voice quieter than before. "I was looking for sanctuary. My father... he plans to execute me and my friend."

Killian's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Hiccup. "A friend, huh? And where might your friend be?"

At that, Toothless stepped out from the shadows, his wings twitching as he walked into the room. Killian stared at the dragon, unblinking. "You tamed this dragon?" Killian asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

Hiccup nodded a small hint of pride creeping into his voice. "Uh, yes?"

The pirate smiled. "Not bad, laddy. Never seen someone tame a Night Fury before."

Hiccup was taken aback. "You've seen one?"

Killian's eyes softened with something that could have been nostalgia. "Once. In my old land. They were hunted for their scales, used to make armor. It's a miracle that this one escaped."

Hiccup's mind raced, processing Killian's words. "Maybe not," he said softly. "My father plans to kill us both tomorrow. I'll just leave your ship and accept my punishment."

Killian stepped closer, his expression thoughtful. "Hang on there, lad. How would you and your Night Fury like to stay and join me crew? You'd get to see the world, meet countless others, and have an adventure unlike any you've ever imagined."

Hiccup's breath caught in his throat. The offer was tempting. For the first time in his life, someone was offering him a chance for something more—something beyond the village that had always suffocated him. But what about his father? "But my father..." Hiccup started, conflicted.

"Won't find out," Killian interrupted smoothly. "By the time we're gone, no one will know."

Hiccup felt a rush of emotions. He had always felt invisible, unheard in his own village. But here, with Killian, he felt seen and understood. This pirate wasn't like the people he had grown up with. Killian wasn't judging him or trying to force him into some mold. The thought of escaping this life, of finding a place where he could be truly free, filled Hiccup with a sense of excitement he had never felt before. He looked at Toothless, the dragon who had been his only true friend, and nodded. "Alright," he said, his voice steady. "We'll join you."

And just like that, Hiccup and Toothless set sail on the Jolly Roger, leaving behind the island and the life they had known. For the first time in Hiccup's life, he felt as though he was stepping into something new, something grand. And with Toothless by his side, he knew that no matter what awaited them, they would face it together.

(Storybrooke)

The first thing Harry registered as he stirred awake was the softness of the bed beneath him. The sterile smell of the hospital room soon followed, mingling with the low hum of monitors tracking his vitals. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, he turned his head to see Emma sitting in a chair beside him. "Welcome back," she said gently, her arms crossed but her expression soft.

Harry groaned, shifting slightly. His body ached, his muscles stiff and sore, but he couldn't help the flicker of gratitude for being alive. "What... what happened?"

"You were kidnapped," Emma said plainly. "We found you tied up in the blacksmith's shop. You're lucky we got there when we did."

As the memories began to resurface; Damon, the ropes, the cold darkness, Harry's chest tightened. He dropped his gaze to his lap, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you even bother?"

Emma leaned forward, her tone firm but kind. "Because you matter, Harry. And starting now, things are going to be different."

He frowned, unsure what she meant. Emma seemed to anticipate his confusion because she continued, "Mary Margaret wants you to stay with her for a while. She's offering you a home."

Harry's eyes widened. "What? Why would she want someone like me?"

"Because she sees you for who you are," Emma said, her voice steady but warm. "Not just some kid trying to scrape by or someone who's been through a lot. She sees the good in you. And you need someone to look after you, Harry. You can't keep living like this."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Emma cut him off. "Dr. Whale told me everything about the hospital bills," she said, her tone softening. "All the extra jobs you take to pay for your treatment. It's too much, Harry. You've spent so much time helping everyone else in this town—whether it's fixing things, treating animals, or just being there when someone needs a hand. It's time to let someone help you for a change."

Her words hung in the air, wrapping around Harry like a warm blanket. He wanted to argue, to say that he didn't need anyone, that he'd be fine on his own. But deep down, he knew Emma was right. The weight he'd been carrying for so long was too much, and he was tired of shouldering it alone. "Okay," he said finally, his voice barely audible. "I'll try."

Emma smiled, relief washing over her features. "Good. And there's one more thing."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

Just then, the door creaked open, and Henry appeared, leading the wolf into the room. The wolf's acid-green eyes lit up the moment it spotted Harry, and it let out a soft whine before trotting to his bedside. "Hey, buddy," Harry murmured, reaching out with a trembling hand.

The wolf nuzzled his palm, its tail wagging gently. Henry grinned as he stepped closer. "Regina said you could keep him. She figured it might help you to have someone to look after."

Harry blinked, overwhelmed by the gesture. "She... really?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah. She said it's your responsibility now. And honestly? I think she's right."

As the wolf settled beside him, resting its head on the bed, Harry smiled faintly. "I guess I should give you a name," he mused, scratching behind the wolf's ears.

Henry's grin widened. "I think he already has one."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Toothless," Henry said confidently. "I called him that earlier, and he seemed to like it."

Harry tilted his head, considering the name. The wolf's ears twitched at the sound, and it wagged its tail as though in agreement.

"Toothless," Harry repeated, a small smile playing on his lips. "It suits you."

Henry nodded. "See? He likes it."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Harry let out a soft chuckle. Toothless pressed closer to his side, his warm presence a comforting anchor. Emma watched the interaction, her heart swelling. "You're not alone anymore, Harry," she said softly. "You've got a home now. And a family."

Harry looked up at her, his throat tight with emotion. He didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. For the first time, the idea of staying in one place, of being cared for, didn't feel so terrifying; it felt... right. And as Toothless nuzzled into his side, Harry realized that maybe, just maybe, he could finally start to heal.

 

Chapter 7: That Still Small Voice

(The Enchanted Forest)

Everyone knows the story of Pinocchio and how he became a real boy. But this is the story of Jiminy Cricket and how he became a conscience.

Years ago, in a small village, a little boy was walking through the crowd picking people's pockets as they watched a puppet show. That little boy was Jiminy, you see, his parents were con artists that tricked and lied to people for money and poor Jiminy was a part of the family business. In every town the con family goes into, they use a puppet show to distract people while Jiminy would steal coins, pouches of gold, and anything valuable. Once they finished up the show, they headed into a meadow and pooled out all the money and valuables that they stole. 

Jiminy didn't pay much attention to his parents, he hated being a thief and wanted to be something more meaningful.  He found a cricket in a cage that he took. Jiminy always loved crickets but his parents just saw them as disgusting irritating little bugs. To Jiminy, crickets get to do whatever they want and hop from place to place freely. His parents remind him that he is free to do what they want and to be who they want to be, a thief. "Well, maybe I want to be something else. Maybe I don't want to steal. Maybe I want to be good." Jiminy blatantly said to his parents.

His parents refused to have him turn good. Jiminy remembered the harsh words that his parents said to him, "Good is another word for weak. Let us think for you. That's what parents are for. To help you. You are who you are and there's no changing it, Jiminy."

(Storybrooke)

Dr. Hopper started Henry's therapy session of the day. The two talked about how Henry thinks Dr. Hopper is Jiminy Cricket and why he thinks that. Henry just told him that he's a conscience and that's who he is. Dr. Hopper figured that Henry was trying to imply that the crickets in Storybrooke were once people too. "There aren't any crickets here. Listen." Henry said as they heard no crickets chirping in the night.

The two continued to talk more about the "curse" that is happening here. Harry knocked on the door and opened it, he was there to pick up Henry from his therapy session. Before they left, Dr. Hopper asked Henry the same question from before, why do you think it's so important that this is real? Henry just answered that he just believes that it is real. Dr. Hopper wanted Harry to stay for a minute to talk, Harry asked Henry to wait for him while he talked to Dr. Hopper. He asked Harry how he was adjusting to having someone else taking care of him besides himself. 

After the kidnapping and the months of medical bills, Dr. Hopper insisted on some therapy to help him. "It's different but I have Toothless with me," Harry answered.

"Toothless?" Dr. Hopper asked.

"Oh, right I guess Henry didn't tell you. That wolf that was found in the woods, I decided to take him in. Toothless is the name Henry gave him." Harry explained.

Just then, the whole room began to shake violently, and the sounds of something exploding filled the air. Harry got a call from Graham that something happened near the old cave mines. Dr. Hopper took Harry and Henry to the sight of the explosion and they saw almost half the town looking at the huge crater. Regina showed up barking orders at Graham and the fire department. She looked coldly at Emma saying that she had no business being here but Graham stepped in saying that she was the new deputy.

Regina put Emma on crowd control then she addressed the town about how the situation was being handled. She plans to use this area for "city use" by bulldozing, collapsing it, and paving it. Henry came out of the crowd saying that Regina can't just pave over the mines. There could be something in there that Regina doesn't want anyone to know about. Her lips were sealed and she asked for everyone to step away from the mines. Henry saw Regina pick something up and then hide it in her pocket.

He tried to ask Emma but Regina came over and dragged him away. "Listen, this is a safety issue. Wait in the car," she ordered.

Henry did as she said but only for a little while. He checked to see if the coast was clear then got out of the car. He saw that Archie and Harry were talking so he signed them to come over. Emma saw Henry sneaking around so she joined them to hear what the kid had to say. "This requires all of Operation Cobra. All of you." Henry stated.

"I didn't realize I was in Operation Cobra," Archie said, confused.

"Of course you are. You know everything. We can't let her do this. What if there's something down there?" Henry explained.

Emma figured that these were just old tunnels but Henry stated that they collapsed right after she came here. She was changing things around here and weakening the curse. Harry explained that Emma had just named the new deputy of Storybrooke by Graham. Henry said that Emma being the new deputy caused the mines to fall which proves that the curse was weakening. Suddenly Regina spotted Henry and she was furious. She took Henry with her but gave Emma glares that could kill her. Emma just left and so did Dr. Hopper but Regina stopped him from leaving. "Harry, watch Henry for me. I'd like to have a word with Dr. Hopper." She stated.

Harry wasn't sure what Regina was planning to do but he told Henry to stay by the car while he investigated what Regina was doing. Henry figured Harry was gathering info for Operation Cobra so it worked. Harry snuck behind the police car and what he heard was shocking.

Regina wanted a new treatment plan for Henry, a treatment to destroy his image. Dr. Hopper tried to reason with Regina but she threatened to fire him. She even threatened to leave him nothing but the umbrella he had for a roof. Archie reluctantly agreed to try something else and asked what he needed to do. "You take that delusion out of my son's head and you crush it." Regina darkly explained then left.

Harry had heard enough and popped out of his hiding spot to get through to Archie. But he realized that Archie was in a place far from reasoning, Harry just decided that he was gonna do Henry's sections in secret.

(The Enchanted Forest)

Years passed by and Jiminy still lived with his crooked family. They always guilt him into staying with them for their actions. The trio stopped at a festival for their next scam to rip people off. Jiminy's parents figured they could run their Elf Tonic scam to steal people's money. Jiminy just wanted to put on a show like they normally do "We make enough from the ticket sales. Do we have to steal, too?" Jiminy asked.

But of course, his parents just made it seem like they just needed to for fun. Jiminy has enough, he wants to change, quit, and be something else than a thief. Yet his parents just kept guilting Jiminy into staying. They kept saying that they were getting old and parts of their bodies were weakening. "It's better to just stay with us. Just until we die." his father spoke.

Poor Jiminy, desperate to change but being held back by his parents. Hours later, a huge storm hit the town hard. Everyone including Jiminy was packing up and seeking shelter from the storm. Jiminy was still packing up while getting drenched in the rain with no help from his parents. Just then, a little boy with a black umbrella came up to Jiminy thinking that he had a great job with puppets. He didn't speak a word to the boy until the boy asked if he didn't like his job.

"No, I don't." Jiminy stated, "Same show, same fairs every year"

"Well, then why don't you do something else?" The boy asked.

That's all Jiminy wanted to do with his life but with his parents controlling him, he was just a puppet with strings attached to him. He asked the little boy if he just came here to watch Jiminy set up but he was just out here to listen to the crickets. Jiminy hadn't listened to the crickets in far too long.

The little boy gifted Jiminy his umbrella for him to keep. Jiminy seemed to be concerned that the boy should keep it and not catch a cold. The boy insisted that Jiminy keep it, plus the boy didn't live that far. With that, the little boy ran home. For the first time, Jiminy had felt a warm glow that was telling him to listen to his heart and leave his parents. But how?

(Storybrooke)

Poor Archie sat in his office with thoughts of doubt running around. Regina had threatened to leave him with nothing unless he squashed Henry's fantasies. He didn't have the heart to crush Henry but he had no choice. Just then, his old friend Marco came into his office saying that they would be going out for lunch together. Archie had been so spaced out that he completely forgot about it. Henry and Harry came in as the two friends agreed to plan to have lunch another time. "Harry, don't forget you said you would help with one of my projects," Marco spoke in an Italian accent.

"I'll be there once Henry finishes up with his session," Harry said.

Henry figured that Marco was Geppetto from his storybook and that Archie was recruiting him for Operation Cobra. Geppetto is Jiminy Cricket's best friend just like Marco is Archie's friend. Archie told Harry that he should wait outside but Harry insisted that he should stay. Now the bomb was about to go off. Archie tried to talk to Henry but Henry was convinced that he was gonna get proof. He showed Archie and Harry his supplies for going down into the caves. "Henry, it's dangerous. You can't go down there, it's honeycombed with unstable caverns that could kill you." Harry reasoned.

Archie ended up going off the deep end, "Look, all of this, all of this a delusion. Do you know what a delusion is?" Archie questioned.

"Archie, stop. This isn't a good idea."

"He needs to know, Harry."

"But..."

"Just let me. Henry, A delusion is something that's not real and not healthy. And I thought that you'd outgrow this, but, Henry, you know, now it turned into a psychosis. Do you know what psychosis is? That's when you can no longer tell what's real. And if that continues then they have to lock you away. Henry, look, this has to stop. For your good, you gotta wake up. This nonsense must end."

With all those words stinging at Henry, he took his bag and stormed off. Harry just looked at Archie with disappointment "I hope you are happy now Archie. You broke Henry's heart just to protect your job. I know Regina is threatening you and she is not gonna get away with this. Emma was right, I can't let her walk all over me." Harry spoke then ran off leaving Archie to question if he made the right decision.

Harry walked to Mary Margret's place, after the kidnapping and the stress from the hospital bills, Mary Margret had been letting Harry stay with her. He walked in to find Emma and Mary Margret talking about David and his wife. Mary Margret had developed a crush on him but she hides it. Emma took one look at Harry and knew something was wrong. A few minutes later, Henry showed up with tears in his eyes. Emma started piecing things together and knew that Regina was behind this. Harry explained that Regina was blackmailing Archie to crush Henry's fantasy. Emma and Harry marched into Archie's office with anger. 

They found him sitting on the couch, drinking. Emma marched up to Archie stating that he told her not to hurt Henry the way Archie did. But he just told her that he needed to change the therapy. Even Harry knew that was a lie, he had just overheard Regina threatening him. "I do not need to defend my professional decisions to you, okay?" Archie snapped.

Emma's phone started ringing, she picked up the call which happened to be Regina. "I'm with Dr. Hopper and guess what, you left your fingerprints all over him when you..."

"Not him. Henry. Is he with you?" Regina asked.

That was impossible, Emma had dropped him at her office an hour ago but Regina claimed that he wasn't there. Emma told her that she didn't know where Henry was but Archie knew. Henry was going into the caves. Henry had already reached the mine tunnel with his supplies then he entered the caves.

(The Enchanted Forest)

Within the forest, Rumplestilskin lived in his dark castle. Spinning straw into gold to reward those who bring back treasures and magical objects for his personal use. Jiminy dropped off the bag filled with treasures that he and his parents scammed out of. He even left a list of the names that all of these treasures belonged to. Rumplestilskin looked very pleased with the results and rewarded Jiminy with gold thread that he had spun from straw. When Rumplestilskin turned Jiminy away to leave, he didn't even move.  Rumplestilskin looked at Jiminy with a sinister grin, he knew that Jiminy wanted something else. 

S omething with some magic. Rumplestilskin took the gold thread from Jiminy and started to use it to brew some kind of potion. "Every year I'm stuck in that wagon. I wanna be free. I wanna be someone else. But something keeps holding me back." Jiminy revealed.

"Something or someone?" Rumplestilskin questioned.

"It's my parents," Jiminy confessed.

With that, Rumplestilskin finished the potion and handed it to Jiminy saying that this would help. All he needed to do was to get the potion on his parents or have them inject it and it would set him free. But he had nothing else he could give to Rumplestilskin to seal the deal. But Rumplestilskin found a way to close the deal. After the potion has done its work, Jiminy would leave his parents where they are and Rumplestilskin will come to collect them. "It'll be my fee." He said with a gleeful tone.

"What will become of them?" Jiminy asked.

Rumplestilskin just smiled with a wicked grin "Worry you not, they'll be in safe hands. And you'll be free."

Jiminy took the potion and the deal from Rumplestilskin and left. What would his conscience say now?

Later at night, Jiminy and his parents planned another con with a nice couple. Archie begged his parents to skip this tonight since they didn't need the money. Of course, his parents didn't listen to him and just handed him the fake Elf Tonic. With that, a young couple opened the door to hear what all the noise was about. They let Jiminy and his parents come in for a meal and warmth.  Jiminy felt so guilty about robbing these innocent people, they gave them food for the night and all his parents cared about was money. They faked a sob story about a plague that had been going around the next town over. 

The couple bought the story and looked concerned if it was coming here. Jiminy's parents stated that they were immune thanks to the Elf Tonic. They faked about not having any until the young woman suggested that they could pay them and they sparked them back up.  They scammed almost everything the couple had, they gave them the tonic and dashed out of the door. Jiminy had enough, all the years of anger and regret bubbled up to the surface. He pulled out the potion from Rumplestilskin and threw it at his parents. But nothing happened; his father had switched the bottles on him. 

Panic rose in his heart as Jiminy ran back to the house.  He barges the door open only the find that the couple is gone. He looked around only to find the potion lying on the floor, almost empty. Jiminy turned to the bed hoping to find them but it was too late.  They had already drunk the potion and as a result, it turned them both into wooden puppets. Jiminy stared at the couple in horror, what had he done?  His parents walk in to find the puppets on the bed "New puppets for the act." His mother spoke with laughter.

Suddenly a little boy came running into the house calling for his parents. Jiminy recognized that boy, it was the same boy he had met days ago in the rain. The boy looked scared at the people in his house but he soon turned terrified when he saw his parents as puppets. Jiminy screwed up big time, the nice couple that had trusted them were the boys' parents. The little boy turned to Jiminy with tears in his eyes then ran off. Jiminy, what have you done?

(Storybrooke)

Emma, Harry, and Archie raced to the entrance of the mines, they called out to Henry but no answer. Pongo and Toothless sniffed around the entrance and the two found a candy bar that fell out of Henry's bag. They barked at Harry and Archie for them to see the clue they had found. After a few minutes, the ground started to shake and the tunnel entrance looked like it would collapse. Emma just grabbed onto something but Archie crawled into the mine tunnel as Harry tried to chase after Archie.

But the tunnel entrance collapsed and trapped Archie inside the mines with Henry. Both Harry and Emma ran to the entrance to find it blocked off so there was no way in or out. "Regina's gonna skin us alive," Harry said, scared.

Meanwhile, Archie lit up a match to see in the tunnel to find Henry. He called out Henry's name until Henry appeared with a flashlight in his hand. Henry thought that Archie came to help him find proof that his fairytale theory was right. He was wrong, Archie still doubted him. Henry just ran off saying that he would prove it. Archie realized that Harry was right, Regina had taken control and it cost him the bond that he and Henry share.

Archie decided that he was gonna fix things with Henry. He followed Henry to another part of the mine tunnels to try and apologize. Archie found Henry sitting on the ground with his flashlight shining down a smaller hole saying that there was something down there. Archie figured that this would be the time to try and convince Henry to stop. Henry just thought that Archie still thought that he was crazy. "No, Because we are trapped underground in an abandoned mine, Henry, and there is no way out," Archie stated.

Outside the mines, half the town including Regina was trying to move the debris out of the way to find both Henry and Archie. Marco claimed that Archie would keep Henry safe until they could get them out. But the more they tried to open the entrance the more the tunnel fought back. The ground shakes again making the damage worse than it was before. Emma and Regina started to argue with each other about Henry.

Harry marched up to the two of them and split them apart from each other. "Fighting with each other will not save Henry and Archie," Harry stated.

Pongo kept barking nonstop hoping that Archie and Henry could hear him. Emma let go of her anger knowing that Harry was right. Fighting with Regina wasn't going to get them out. The two agreed to put aside their differences and work together. Marco suggested that they use explosives to blow away the rubble. The people backed away as the workers set the explosives at the entrance. But when the explosions 

Henry and Archie followed the sound of Pongo's barking to find a way out of the mines. The two found an old mining elevator that could work as a way out. However the minute they got into the elevator, the explosions that had been set off outside caused the elevator to fall and get stuck. Now Henry and Archie were trapped with no way out. But soon Emma had found a hidden exit that led to the elevator shaft. The townsfolk worked together and managed to get both Henry and Archie out of the mines.

Archie finally found his voice and told Regina that he was gonna do his therapy sessions his way, not Regina's way. He was no longer afraid of Regina. And the curse was slowly breaking, the crickets came back.

(The Enchanted Forest)

Jiminy still had guilt from giving the potion to that little boy's parents and turning them into puppets. He could never be free from who he was or who his family was. Jiminy stared up at the night sky looking at the evening star. He wished that he could right this wrong, he wished to bring the boy's parents back. He wished for it over and over again in his mind to fix his mistake. Then suddenly, a bright blue light glowed beside him and there was the Blue Fairy. She had heard his wish but she could not reverse the spell.

Jiminy looked at the Blue Fairy with desperate eyes, "It's my fault. I have to make it right. I would trade my life to make it happen." he stated.

But the Blue Fairy had another way for Jiminy to correct his mistake. The little boy would grow up to face many difficult challenges and Jiminy could help him overcome them. But Jiminy could not get away from his parents or his past. The Blue Fairy asked Jiminy what he would like to be instead of who he was before. Jiminy remembered how much he loved listening to crickets.   The Blue Fairy heard his wish and turned Jiminy into a cricket with a vest wrapped around his tiny new body. At last, he was free. The Blue Fairy also mentioned that Jiminy would live many years to help the boy once he found him. "

How will I? I don't even know his name." Jiminy chirped.

"His name is Geppetto." The Blue Fairy answered.

Chapter 8: The Shepherd

(Storybrooke)

David was finally discharged from the hospital but his memory was still foggy. His wife took him back home for the welcome home party that everyone had thrown for him. The minute David walked into the house, there were so many people that he didn't really know. Except for Harry, Emma, and Henry who were hiding in the back of the crowd. Harry even brought Toothless with him just in case anything went wrong. Henry knew why David hadn't been able to remember. The curse hasn't worked on him yet which is preventing any fake memories from replacing his fairy tale story.

Henry figured that this could be their chance to help him. They have to get him to remember that David is Prince Charming. And the best way to do that is by getting him and Mary Margret together. Emma just looked confused "Didn't we just try that?" She questioned.

"And it woke him up," Henry said with a grin.

“He’s got you there.” Harry pointed out.

David joined Emma, Henry, and Harry in the back of the ground since they were the only ones here that he knew. He knows that they were the ones that found him along with Mary Margret. Toothless walked over to David who kindly pet him gently. Toothless leaned into the man’s touch. “He likes you.” Harry said.

“It’s strange but I feel like I’ve seen this wolf before.” David siad, petting Toothless.

He then picked up a cocktail weenie with a toothpick. Henry started asking him if he ever used a sword, and David took it as a joke. He then grabbed another cocktail weenie and fed it to Toothless. He asked Emma if Mary Margret was gonna be coming too but she told David that Mary Margret couldn't make it. David seemed so disappointed that Mary Margret wasn't coming. In the kitchen, Regina noticed Kathryn hanging back and not being with David. Regina insisted that Kathryn should go back out there and be with her husband.

"I lost him once. Now I have him back. But it's like I still don't have him back. You have no idea how that feels." Kathryn said with tears in her eyes.

"Actually I do. I lost someone once, too." Regina confessed, "But the love I lost, there's no bringing him back. You have a chance here. Go to him."

Kathryn decided to go back, she thanked Regina for being a good friend. However, when Kathryn walked into the living room, David had just disappeared from the party. David ended up walking to Mary Margret's house to talk to her. He found her struggling to put up a birdhouse in one of the trees. The minute Mary Margret saw David, her heart skipped a beat when he came over to help her with the birdhouse. He took her hand and helped her down from the latter then he put the birdhouse up. David found out that Mary Margret resigned from the hospital and thought she did it because of him.

He had confessed his feelings to Mary Margret and even he could tell that she had feelings for him as well. But Mary Margret put her feelings for David aside, he was married and she couldn't do that. David didn't care who married Kathryn, it wasn't his choice, he was choosing Mary Margret. "I know you think that we have this connection, but maybe it's because I happen to be the person who saved your life. So why don't we leave it at that?" Mary Margret stated. She walked away leaving David hurting from rejection.

(The Enchanted Forest)

Prince James was the son of King George, a cold and heartless king who cared for no one. James was raised and trained under his father's influence for years, he became a cold, heartless, cocky killer who didn't care who he hurts. James was given a trial to defeat the unkillable creature in front of his father and King Midas who had been blessed and cursed with the Golden Touch. King Midas's kingdom was under threat by a dragon, every soldier he had sent was killed by the dragon. A deal was struck between the two kings, George would offer his son to fight the dragon in exchange for gold to keep his kingdom thriving.

Prince James fought the unkillable monster and bested it by tricking it into thinking that he had killed James. King George looked impressed with his son but Midas was still skeptical about it. James may have killed a man but a dragon was another story. Prince James assured Midas that he can and will slay the dragon that plagued his kingdom. King George asked Midas if they could work something out for the time being. Midas raised his armored gloves hand as a knight carefully took it off without touching the skin.

His hand shimmered and sparkled like gold as he asked King George for the prince's sword. With one touch he turned the metal into solid gold "Consider it a down payment. You'll get the rest when you deliver the dragon's head to me." Midas spoke.

Prince James took the deal but politely declined to shake Midas's hand to avoid being turned to gold. Midas took it as a joke then he and his men went with King George to discuss the details of their agreement. The knights cheered for their Prince's victory but he stopped them short. "There's no celebrating today. This was but a simple test. The task before us is too big, too important to make light of." James monologue.

As he was going on and on about his victory, he didn't realize that his back was turned to the unkillable beast who was still alive. The beast took the chance and plunged his spear right through the Prince's heart. James collapsed to the ground with the spear still in his body and died. King George returned to the palace with his son's body and held a funeral in honor of the prince. King George was devised, not because of the death of his son, but if Midas finds out then he will back out of their deal. He became more focused on making sure that his kingdom survived.

King George had asked for help as soon as he had learned his son was dead. He then told the guards to leave the room knowing that the help he had sent would be arriving. A voice had entered the room, the king turned around to see that Rumplestilskin had appeared out of thin air. "So this is how you treat my gifts? You really must be more careful." Rumplestilskin joked.

King George had struck a deal long ago with Rumplestilskin, a child since his wife couldn't bear any. But she died years ago, and now the king was left without an heir. King George wanted to make another deal with Rumplestilskin, that perked the Dark One's interest. King George wanted Rumplestilskin to bring his son back from the dead in exchange for whatever he wanted. Rumple looked at the King with an idea of what he wanted from their deal. There was a magic wand that he desired from a Fairy Godmother who was a patron of the king's family. He wanted to know her whereabouts.

King George took the deal from Rumple and asked him how he could bring his son back to slay the dragon. But he couldn't bring him back from the dead, magic can do much, but not that. "But you said..."

"Nothing about resurrection." Rumple interrupted.

"Then my kingdom is lost." King George claimed.

"Oh, dear. Oh dearie, dearie, dear. Did I not tell you that I could have your son slay the dragon? And am I not a man of my word?"

"I thought you said he was gone forever!"

"Oh, that he is. But his brother..."

"His what?"

"His twin brother. Did I not mention there was another?"

Somewhere outside the woods was a farm where a man who looked exactly like Prince James lived and worked.

(Storybrooke)

Mary Margret was busy scrubbing viciously at the dishes after the surprise visit from David. “If you keep scrubbing like that, that Brillo Pad's going to press charges.” Harry joked as he laid on the couch.

“The dishes were just piling up.” Mary Margnet stated.

Emma knew that David was the one making Mary Margret confused and possibly frustrated. She told Mary Margret that she did the right thing by letting him down easily, but he still made a compelling argument. Even though he is still married, he still has feelings for Mary Margret which makes her confused about what she was feeling. Emma figured that Mary Margret needed a drink so she grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Here's the thing. I don't know a lot about relationships, other than having many that failed. But generally speaking, if you think something you want to do is wrong, it is. So, you got to stay strong, and he has to figure out his life.” Emma explained.

The two of them had a little toast and then drank the wine. Meanwhile, David sat on the worn couch, an old shoebox of photos balanced on his lap. The flickering light from the fireplace cast shadows across the room as he leafed through images of a life that felt like someone else’s. Each photograph seemed to mock him with its simplicity, a stark contrast to the labyrinth of memories he was still trying to untangle. Kathryn entered the room quietly, her gaze falling on David’s bowed head. She hesitated for a moment before sitting beside him.

“You look different,” she said softly, reaching out to brush her fingers against one of the photos in his hand. “Your hair—it’s longer. You used to always keep it buzzed short. Said it was less itchy and easier to manage.”

David ran a hand through his shaggy hair, his lips quirking in a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. “I guess it had time to grow while I was… away.” His voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken meaning.

Kathryn nodded, the weight of his words settling between them. “I was thinking of heading to bed,” she said after a pause, her voice careful, almost tentative. “Would you like to join me?”

David’s fingers stilled on a photograph. He turned to her, searching her face for clarity. “Do you mean… go to bed go to bed? Or just… go to bed?”

Kathryn leaned closer, her expression open, yet unreadable. “Whatever you want,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

David opened his mouth to respond, but before he could form the words, Kathryn leaned in and kissed him. For a moment, he froze, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. Then he pulled back, his hand gently but firmly on her shoulder. “This… this isn’t right,” he murmured, his voice low but steady.

(Enchanted Forest)

The Prince Charming that Snow White married was a shepherd named David. He had shaggy hair and lived on a farm with his mother, Ruth. His father passed away when he was a boy and the farm hasn’t been doing well. David and his mother were poor but they were happy. One morning, David was outside herding one of the sheep that had escaped from its pen. The sleep was fast but David was smarter. He lured the sheep towards a small part of the sleep pen then he shut the pen gate, trapping the sleep. Ruth had returned from the market with a bag of food for the two of them.

Ruth then began to tell David that she had an interesting chat with the grain merchant. He had a daughter ready for marriage and thought that it would be a benefit for David and the daughter. But David refused to marry her; even with the huge dowry that came with the marriage. David only wanted to spend the rest of his life with someone he loved and not for riches. “When are you going to learn? You can't have everything.” Ruth stated as she watched David release the sheep back with the flock.

“Oh, perhaps he can.” A voice echoed.

Ruth and David turned around to see Rumplestilskin standing behind them; Ruth’s face went pale. David was confused as to what was going on. Ruth took David to the porch of the house then she broke down and told him the truth. Prince Charming stood frozen, his thoughts a whirlwind of disbelief and betrayal as his mother's revelation shattered the foundation of everything he thought he knew. A twin brother—a sibling he had never met, lost before their lives had even truly begun. The truth weighed heavy in the air, unspoken yet palpable, as Ruth’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

The memories of their harsh life on the farm flickered through David’s mind. He could almost see his mother and father struggling to survive, their faces etched with desperation. He understood, in part, the impossible choice they had faced, but the knowledge didn’t ease the ache in his chest. Ruth’s gaze dropped, her shame apparent. The farm had been saved, but at what cost? Her husband’s guilt had been a silent shadow over their lives, one she carried alone after his passing. The price of their survival had been a secret too heavy to share—until now. David’s heart twisted with a blend of anger, sorrow, and confusion.

His mother had made a decision to save their family, but it had come at a cost he wasn’t sure he could reconcile. His twin, a stranger to him, had been a sacrifice to a man whose power and cunning left no room for mercy. From the shadows, Rumplestiltskin clapped his hands together, his voice cutting through the somber moment like a blade. “Hate to interrupt this tender family reunion, but time, as they say, is of the essence.”

David’s jaw clenched. “Mother, wait in the house while I deal with this.”

Ruth hesitated, glancing nervously between her son and the impish figure. But at David’s nod, she retreated, the door creaking softly as it closed behind her. David turned back to face Rumplestiltskin. “What do you want from me?”

Rumplestiltskin smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, not from me, dearie. The king. He’s in need of a prince to slay a dragon.”

David’s brow furrowed. “I’m not a dragon slayer.”

“No,” Rumplestiltskin admitted, “but your brother was. This newfound kinship, dearie, will be your salvation. All you have to do is play the part. The king’s knights will handle the beast; you simply deliver the head to King Midas.”

David narrowed his eyes. “And what’s in it for you?”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled, the sound was both eerie and amused. “What’s in it for me is my business. You should be asking what’s in it for you.”

He took a step closer, his tone lowering, almost conspiratorial. “Do this, and your dear mother will never want for anything again. The king will see to it. Your farm will flourish, and you,” He muttered the next bit, “should you survive, will return home a conquering hero. Now don’t tell me you don’t want that.”

David looked away, his thoughts a storm of doubt and duty. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Oh, everyone has a choice, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin purred, his grin widening. “Just make sure it’s the right one.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous, as David felt the weight of his destiny pressing down on him.

(Storybrooke)

The warm morning light streamed through the windows of Granny’s Diner, casting a golden glow over the bustling room. Mary Margaret sat at the counter, a steaming mug of coffee beside her as she scanned the morning paper. The usual chatter filled the air, but she barely registered it, her mind distracted by thoughts she didn’t dare voice. The door jingled as Dr. Whale strolled in, his swagger unmistakable. He approached the counter with a smirk, leaning casually against it. “I'm a hell of a doctor, huh?” he said, his tone brimming with self-assurance. “No way he wakes up on someone else's watch.”

Mary Margaret glanced up, momentarily startled. “Hello, Dr. Whale,” she replied, her voice polite but guarded.

“So,” he began, folding his arms, “I heard you resigned from the hospital. I hope it wasn’t because of me.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would it be because of you?”

“Well,” he said with a sheepish grin, “our date. I never called you after. Yeah, I know, not exactly classy. I’m sorry about that. But hey, if you can find a way to get over it, you know where to find me.”

He straightened and offered her a wink before sauntering off. “Have a good day,” he called over his shoulder, leaving her sitting there, stunned and mildly annoyed.

Before she could fully process the encounter, the bell above the door chimed again, and Regina swept into the diner with her usual air of authority. Her heels clicked against the floor as she approached Mary Margaret, her gaze sharp and unwavering. “Ms. Blanchard,” Regina said, her voice low but firm, “may I have a word?”

Mary Margaret set the newspaper aside, her unease growing. “Of course,” she replied, her tone steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

Regina sat down across from her, leaning in slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about my friend Kathryn,” she began, her words deliberate, each one carrying weight. “But more specifically, I wanted to talk to you about her husband, David.”

Mary Margaret’s throat tightened. “You don’t belong together,” Regina continued, her eyes narrowing. “He’s not yours. He’s taken. Find somebody else.”

Mary Margaret’s pulse quickened, but she kept her voice calm. “I haven’t done anything,” she said quietly.

Regina’s smile was cold and knowing. “Really? So he just up and left his wife on a whim?”

The words hit Mary Margaret like a blow. “He did what?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t know,” Regina said, her expression shifting to one of feigned pity. Mary Margaret shook her head, her stomach twisting into knots.

“Well,” Regina continued, her tone dripping with condescension, “I suspect you soon will. So listen carefully, dear, because it’s in your best interest. Stay away. He’s in a fragile state. He doesn’t know who he is or what he’s doing. And you—” she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to an icy whisper, “you’re this close to wrecking multiple lives. So before you do something that can’t be undone, let him remember who he was.”

With that, Regina stood, her words hanging in the air like a storm cloud. She adjusted her coat and strode out of the diner, leaving Mary Margaret frozen in her seat, her heart pounding and her thoughts racing. The newspaper sat forgotten on the counter, the world around her suddenly seeming much quieter, much heavier.

(Enchanted Forest)

David had taken the deal from Rumplestilskin to pretend to be James for King Midas to slay the dragon in exchange for a chance to save the farm. King George made sure that David looked completely identical to James. David adjusted his armor as he studied his reflection in the polished surface of a shield. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on his shoulders, the title of hero thrust upon him, yet feeling so hollow. He didn’t realize how identical he and James looked and it was a little freaking. King Midas approached, his golden robes shimmering even in the dim light of the camp.

“There he is,” Midas said, his voice booming with confidence. “Our Savior. The man who is going to tear the dragon limb from limb.”

Charming drew his sword, gripping it tightly despite his nerves. “You do this,” Midas continued, a glint of ambition in his eyes, “and you’ll be a legend.”

He patted Charming on the shoulder and walked away, leaving the young man to wrestle with the enormity of his task. A burly knight stepped forward, his presence commanding. “Here,” he said gruffly, gesturing to Charming’s armor. “Let me. You fastened it wrong.”

With practiced efficiency, he adjusted the straps and buckles before taking the sword from Charming’s hand. Charming blinked, alarmed. “How will I fight? How will I protect myself?”

The knight chuckled darkly. “You won’t. You’ll stay outside the cave while we kill the dragon. If you don’t come out of this alive, Midas won’t give our kingdom any gold. You might have the title of hero, but not the job.”

In the distance, the dragon’s roar echoed like thunder, sending a chill through the knights. The group of knights marched through the dense forest, their armor clinking softly as they approached the mouth of the dragon’s lair. Smoke curled from the dark cave, the acrid smell of sulfur heavy in the air. The burly knight halted the group and turned to Charming. “The dragon’s lair is through there,” he said, pointing at the ominous opening. “You stay here. We’ll be back.”

Charming hesitated as the knights disappeared into the cave. Two guards remained with him, their expressions stoic. “Did you know him well?” Charming asked one of them.

The knight looked confused. “Who?”

“My brother,” Charming clarified, his voice softer. “The prince.”

A flicker of recognition crossed the knight’s face. “Yeah, we knew him. He was the bravest man I ever met.”

From within the cave, a guttural roar erupted, followed by a burst of fire that lit up the entrance like a hellish beacon. Men screamed in agony. “They need our help!” Charming exclaimed, stepping forward.

The knight grabbed his arm, holding him back. “We stay here. Our orders are clear.”

“People are dying!” Charming protested, yanking his arm free.

The knight’s voice hardened. “Don’t move! Stay back!”

Ignoring the warning, Charming ran toward the cave, adrenaline surging through him. He dodged the frantic retreat of the burly knight and pushed past. “Where’s your sword?” he demanded, but the knight only stumbled away in terror.

The cavern was a nightmare of smoke and fire, the air searing hot. Scorched bodies and shattered weapons littered the ground. The dragon emerged from the shadows, its massive form towering over everything. Scales black as coal glistened in the firelight, and its eyes burned with malice. The beast roared again, unleashing a torrent of flame that turned the air into an inferno. Charming ducked behind a rock, coughing from the acrid smoke. His eyes locked onto a gleaming golden sword lying amid the carnage, its blade untouched by the flames.

He darted forward, seizing the sword, only to be forced to dive for cover as the dragon’s claws slashed the ground where he had been. With quick thinking, Charming sprinted toward a narrow gap between two towering rock faces. The dragon lunged after him, its massive jaws snapping just short of his heels, but its bulk was too large to follow. It growled in frustration, trying to force its way through the stone. Charming turned, his chest heaving, and raised the golden sword. “You didn’t see that coming, did you?” he said, his voice steady despite his fear.

In a single, powerful strike, the blade flashed through the air, slicing cleanly through the dragon’s neck. Its roar was cut short as its head thudded heavily to the ground, flames sputtering out in one final gasp. The cavern fell silent, save for the crackle of dying embers. Charming stood there, the golden sword still gripped tightly in his hand, his reflection glinting on its polished surface. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to breathe, the weight of what he had done slowly sinking in.

(Storybrooke)

The hum of fluorescent lights filled the quiet classroom as Mary Margaret sifted through her mail. The letters felt heavier than usual, their contents a distraction from the storm brewing in her mind. She didn’t hear David approach until his voice broke the stillness. "Careful. Looks sharp."

Her heart jumped, but she steadied herself. His presence here felt as reckless as it was intoxicating. She looked up, forcing her expression into one of resolve. "You can't be here," she said, the words an anchor against the tide of emotions threatening to pull her under.

David’s gaze was earnest, his words deliberate. He needed her to hear him. He spoke of Kathryn, of the life he no longer felt belonged to him, of a choice he had made that would change everything. Mary Margaret busied herself with the books on her desk, trying to keep her hands steady. "I’m really trying hard to stay away from you," she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her internal struggle.

David stepped closer, his presence both a comfort and a torment. He questioned her resolve, asking why staying away was the right thing. His words cut deeper than she anticipated, each one peeling away her defenses. The school bell rang, a sharp reminder of the world outside their bubble. Students filtered in, their chatter a stark contrast to the tension between them. Mary Margaret seized the moment, pushing David gently but firmly toward the door. "You really have to leave me alone," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

David hesitated, his eyes searching hers one last time. "Meet me tonight," he said, his tone both pleading and resolute. "At the bridge where you found me, at eight o’clock. Think about it. If you don’t show up, I’ll know. I’ll never bother you again. But if you choose this, if you choose us, you know where I’ll be."

He left, the echo of his words lingering in the air long after the door closed behind him. At the police station, Emma sat at her desk, a sea of files spread out before her. The sharp scent of coffee mingled with the subtle aroma of ink and paper. Sheriff Graham and Harry strolled into the station. Graham had a box of donuts in hand and a sheepish grin on his face. "Sometimes the clichés are true," he said, offering the box.

Emma arched an eyebrow. "Okay. What do you want?"

Graham explained his predicament, a night shift in exchange for feeding shelter dogs. Emma sighed, her resolve softening as she reached for a bear claw. “Told you the bear claw would win her.” Harry said with a smirk.

“Very funny, kid.” Emma said.

As Graham retreated into his office, Mary Margaret burst in, her urgency palpable. "Emma, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Emma gestured for her to continue, her expression shifting to one of concern as Mary Margaret explained. David had left Kathryn. For her. He wanted to meet that evening, and Mary Margaret was spiraling, unsure of how to handle the situation. Emma’s response was measured, and practical. "He left her," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "It’s one thing to say he wants you, but it’s another to actually make a choice. Now he has. That’s all you can ask for."

Mary Margaret wavered, her thoughts drifting to Kathryn and the delicate balance of their newfound friendship. The shadow of Regina loomed large, a constant reminder of the consequences that could follow. "You tell me," Emma said, her words cutting through the fog of doubt.

Meanwhile, David was staying at Granny’s Inn for the time being. The room was silent, save for the steady ticking of the clock. David paced back and forth, each step echoing his anticipation. The weight of the decision he had made pressed against him, but his resolve remained firm. Through the window, the clock tower loomed, its hands inching closer to 8:00. David glanced at it, the sight filling him with both hope and trepidation. He had made his choice. Now all he could do was wait. David walked briskly along the sidewalk, a folded map clutched tightly in his hand. The streets of Storybrooke, though seemingly simple, felt like a labyrinth, each turn pulling him further into unfamiliarity.

He stopped momentarily, trying to make sense of the map’s markings, but the directions only seemed to blur his focus further. A voice broke the stillness, startling him. He turned quickly, his heart skipping as he saw Regina standing nearby. She carried herself with the usual air of poise, her expression an unreadable mix of curiosity and concern. Regina’s presence was unexpected, but not unwelcome. She offered a faint smile, her tone light as she inquired about his disoriented state. David nodded, admitting he was searching for the toll bridge. Her brows lifted slightly, the mention of the bridge clearly piquing her interest.

She remarked on its connection to his past, her voice tinged with subtle intrigue. David’s response was measured, revealing that his purpose wasn’t to rekindle lost memories but to meet someone. Regina’s demeanor shifted almost imperceptibly, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her face. She acknowledged his words carefully, asking if his choice had been made. David confirmed it with quiet resolve. There was no hesitation in his tone, no room for regret. Regina observed him, her gaze lingering as if weighing the gravity of his decision. She offered directions, her voice steady, guiding him to the bridge with a calculated calmness.

As David thanked her and turned to leave, Regina’s parting words carried a bittersweet note. She wished him luck, her voice soft yet edged with something deeper. David glanced back briefly, sensing the weight of her words, before continuing on his way, determined to find what awaited him. Mary Margaret stood by the bridge, the cool night air brushing against her cheeks. The soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets filled the silence. She glanced at her watch, her heart pounding in anticipation.

(Enchanted Forest)

In the grand hall of King Midas's castle, the atmosphere buzzed with triumph. The severed dragon’s head, gleaming as though forged from gold, was carried in by a procession of knights, its grotesque form transformed into a trophy of power. King George stood tall beside Prince Charming, pride radiating from his every word. “He has done it,” George announced, his voice steady and commanding. “Everything you asked for and more. My son battled the dragon and prevailed.”

King Midas’s gaze lingered on the golden beast, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He waved a hand dismissively, instructing his men, “Bring it to the palace. Put it between the chimera and the mapinguari.” The knights obeyed, hefting the head away with practiced ease.

George leaned toward Charming, a whisper of triumph in his tone. “We did it. We pulled it off.”

Charming nodded, though his expression betrayed no joy. “Yes,” he said, his voice low. “Now, how much longer before I can return home?”

George's expression darkened, his reply terse. “That’s a discussion not for now.”

Midas, oblivious to the exchange, stepped forward, his voice ringing out across the hall. “From this day forth, may that beast’s head serve as a reminder of the valiant warrior who slew it—the bravest, most noble prince I have ever met. You have earned my utmost respect.”

George bowed slightly, his smile calculated. “We treasure that respect, King Midas, just as we respect your treasure.”

“Yes, yes,” Midas said, brushing off the flattery with a wave of his hand. “You were promised gold, and gold you shall have. But I did not rise to where I am by thinking small.” His tone shifted, growing grander with each word. “I have always dared to dream big. I was not merely searching for a dragon slayer. I sought the strongest warrior in the land. A hero. Someone who could unite kingdoms. Someone I would be proud to call family.”

With a snap of his fingers, he commanded, “Bring her!”

The doors opened, and Princess Abigail entered, her gown a cascade of icy blue silk that shimmered as she moved. Her golden hair was styled meticulously, her chin tilted in a manner that suggested both poise and impatience. Her gaze swept the room before landing on the so-called dragon slayer. “Gentlemen,” Midas declared, gesturing proudly toward her. “May I present my daughter, Abigail? Beyond gold, beyond all treasures, I value her most. I promised her I would only give her hand in marriage when I found a companion worthy of her—and now I have.”

Abigail’s eyes flicked over Charming with an air of casual appraisal. “He killed the dragon?” she asked, her tone disinterested.

Midas nodded, beaming. “I guess he’ll do,” she said simply.

“And so, Prince James,” Midas continued, his voice filled with finality, “I offer you my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Charming’s chest tightened, his instincts screaming against the words he knew he had to say. “King Midas, I am humbled by your generous offer,” he began, his voice hesitant, “but I can’t honestly say I’m—”

George’s hand clamped down on Charming’s shoulder, his grip ironclad. Leaning in, he hissed quietly, his words dripping with menace, “My son. Always so humble.”

George’s voice dropped further, for Charming’s ears alone. “If you say anything but yes, you will be responsible for the destruction of everyone and everything in our kingdom. You will marry this girl, or I will kill you. I will kill your mother. I will turn that farm to ash. Do you understand me?”

Charming froze, his breath caught in his throat. “I’ll take your silence for wisdom,” George murmured, stepping back with a cold smile. “Follow it. I know you’ll make the right decision.”

Charming’s jaw tightened as he met Abigail’s gaze, the weight of his choice pressing down on him like an unrelenting storm.

(Storybrooke)

David stepped into the dimly lit shop, the faint scent of aged wood and antique polish enveloping him. “Hello?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet space. “Hello?”

His eyes landed on a mobile hanging near the corner of the shop. It spun slowly, its delicate craftsmanship drawing him closer. The sight tugged at something deep within him—a flicker of recognition he couldn’t place. “Charming,” came a voice from the shadows.

David turned, startled, to see Mr. Gold emerging from the back. “I’m sorry?”

“The mobile,” Mr. Gold said with a faint smile. “Isn’t it charming? Exquisitely designed. Masterfully crafted. I could get it down for you if you like.”

David shook his head. “No, no, no. It’s very nice, but actually, I’m looking for the toll bridge. The mayor said there was a fork in the road by your shop, but...”

Mr. Gold’s smile deepened. “It seems Ms. Mills has led you astray.”

David chuckled lightly, though his frustration was evident. “Yeah. You’d think the mayor would know her own town.”

“One would think,” Mr. Gold replied smoothly. “Out of the door, turn right, two blocks, and you’ll find the trail. Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” David said, turning to leave.

As he did, his eyes caught sight of a small windmill sitting on a dusty shelf. Something about it stopped him in his tracks. He approached it slowly, his fingers brushing against the chipped paint. “See something you like?” Mr. Gold asked, watching him closely.

David’s voice was almost a whisper. “Where did you get that?”

“That old thing?” Mr. Gold shrugged. “It’s been gathering dust forever.”

David reached out, spinning the windmill gently. “I think this belonged to me.”

Mr. Gold arched an eyebrow. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” David said, his voice steadier now. “I remember.”

(Enchanted Forest)

The grand hall shimmered with opulence, the golden glow of torches reflecting off polished stone walls and regal banners. Prince Charming walked toward the raised platform where King Midas and King George stood in quiet triumph. Beside them, Princess Abigail stood poised, her gown a cascade of shimmering fabric that glittered like her father’s treasures. The hum of courtiers’ whispered conversations filled the air, though all eyes were fixed on the moment unfolding before them. King Midas stepped forward, his voice ringing out with the authority of a man who had conquered both kingdoms and commerce.

He declared this union the start of a new era, a melding of lands, wealth, and power. King George added his agreement, nodding in satisfaction at the foundation of their alliance. As the formalities concluded, Midas turned his attention to Abigail and Charming. His demeanor softened slightly as he informed them of their departure. While he and King George would remain to finalize their agreement, the young couple was to journey ahead to Midas’s palace. There, preparations for the wedding celebration were already underway—a lavish affair promised to be unlike any other.

Abigail acknowledged her father’s words with a polite smile, though her tone carried an edge of disinterest. Her approval was implicit, as it always was when it came to her father’s plans. Prince Charming’s attention shifted as King George approached him, his expression unreadable but his intent unmistakable. Lowering his voice so only Charming could hear, George offered a few sharp words of approval. The handshake that followed was firm, sealing a deal that was as much about survival as it was about politics. Charming returned the gesture, though his mind lingered on what he had sacrificed.

Abigail, already impatient, cut through the moment with her commanding presence. She turned toward the carriage, her footsteps purposeful. The prince followed her lead, and George’s voice trailed after him, laden with veiled satisfaction. Charming felt the weight of his words but said nothing.

The carriage rolled through the winding forest path, its wheels creaking against the uneven terrain. Sunlight streamed through the canopy above, dappling the road with golden patches of light. High in the trees, Snow White crouched, her keen gaze fixed on the royal procession below. A mischievous smile played across her lips as the plan forming in her mind began to take shape.

Inside the carriage, Abigail sat rigidly, her gaze fixed ahead as if willing the journey to end. The scenic route was far from her preference, and the rough road had done little to improve her mood. Her voice, clipped and cold, broke the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels as she voiced her displeasure. Charming sat opposite her, silent, his thoughts far removed from the woman he was meant to marry. The procession came to an abrupt halt, jolting Abigail forward slightly. A knight’s shout pierced the forest air, calling attention to something blocking the road ahead.

Abigail sighed, irritated, while Charming straightened, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of his sword. From her perch, Snow White leaned forward, her eyes glinting with anticipation. Whatever was on the road, it was only the first step in her scheme. She adjusted her position on the branch, ready to set her plan into motion.

(Storybrooke)

Mary Margaret stood alone at the toll bridge, the cool evening air brushing against her skin. She stared down at the ring on her finger, a small yet weighty reminder of a love that transcended time. Her fingers twisted it absently, the metal catching faint glimmers of the fading light. Every second felt stretched, the silence of the moment broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant hum of passing cars. The sound of hurried footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see David approaching, his expression a mixture of relief and hesitation. The look in his eyes, however, told her all she needed to know before he even spoke.

His words came quickly, each one laced with an undercurrent of guilt and conflict. She listened intently, her heart sinking with each passing moment. He remembered everything now. His life with Kathryn, his love for her; the memories that had once been lost but had now returned in vivid clarity. For Mary Margaret, each revelation was a fresh wound. The intensity of his feelings for her, the confusion that plagued him, and the pull of his past—it all came tumbling out. She could hear the truth in his voice, but it did little to dull the sting of his decision.

As he spoke of doing the right thing, of honoring the love he had once shared with Kathryn, Mary Margaret felt a heavy weight settle in her chest. The right thing, she thought bitterly, had already been broken the moment they’d been drawn to one another. The moment he had allowed her to believe there could be something more. Her voice was steady, though her heart threatened to shatter with every word. She turned to leave, her movements deliberate, the space between them widening with each step. Behind her, David remained rooted, his apology hanging in the air like a whisper lost to the wind.

Mary Margaret didn’t look back. Whatever hope had lingered in her heart had been extinguished, and with it, the fragile connection they had shared. If it wasn’t meant to be, she thought, then she would learn to let it go. Even if it meant walking away with nothing but the ache of what could have been.

Meanwhile, Emma steered the police cruiser through the quiet streets of Storybrooke, the night shift unfolding like any other; calm, uneventful, and heavy with stillness. But as she passed Regina's house, something caught her eye: a shadow slipping out of a second-story window. Slowing to a stop, she pulled over, her instincts kicking in. Emma stepped out of the car, watching the figure descend awkwardly before landing on the ground with a muted thud. As the person began to walk away, Emma moved swiftly, intercepting them with a quick, sharp strike to the stomach.

The figure doubled over, and as they straightened, the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp illuminated Sheriff Graham's face. Emma’s initial surprise melted into a simmering mix of irritation and disbelief. The tension between them was palpable as Graham tried to explain, but Emma’s sharp gaze and biting questions cut through his attempts. The truth spilled out in fragments—Regina had asked him over, plans had changed, and now here he was, sneaking out in the dead of night. Emma’s words dripped with disgust as she pieced together the implications. “Does Harry know?” she asked.

“He doesn’t.” Graham answered.

The situation was bad enough, but knowing Henry was in the house while this unfolded only deepened her disapproval. Graham tried to justify himself, his tone defensive yet resigned, but Emma wasn’t interested in excuses. With a shake of her head, she pulled the police cruiser keys from her pocket and tossed them in his direction. Her patience had worn thin, and her threshold for drama had officially reached its limit. “You can finish my shift,” she said flatly, already turning on her heel. “I’m done working nights.”

Without waiting for a response, Emma walked away, leaving Graham standing in the middle of the street, the weight of the moment settling around him like the cool night air.

Chapter 9: The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter

(Storybrooke)

Granny's Diner hummed with quiet chatter, the low hum of the jukebox in the corner adding a layer of warmth to the scene. Sheriff Graham stood by the dartboard, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he prepared to throw. Watching from the counter was Harry, who glanced over with mild curiosity. Sidney leaned back in his chair nearby, arms crossed with a skeptical grin. Graham's dart flew true, striking the bullseye with precision. “Nice shot, chief,” Sidney remarked, raising an eyebrow. “Betcha twenty bucks you can’t do it again.”

Without missing a beat, Graham grabbed another dart. "Next round's on him," he muttered, already lining up his shot.

Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Careful, Sidney. He might clean you out at this rate.”

Across the diner, Emma Swan entered and made her way toward the counter, her boots clicking against the tiled floor. Ruby intercepted her with a friendly smile. “Hey, Emma. What can I get you?” Ruby asked, pen poised over her notepad.

“Nothing.” Emma’s sharp tone made Ruby hesitate for a moment before retreating to another table.

The dart Graham threw next landed just shy of the bullseye, but it still prompted a satisfied nod. “What the hell?” Emma snapped, turning toward him. “You could’ve hit me.”

Graham smirked, his confidence unwavering. “I never miss.”

Emma crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. She could feel the weight of his gaze lingering on her. "You've been avoiding me since last night," Graham began, lowering his voice as he approached. "You know, after you saw me leaving the mayor's house."

Emma stiffened, her expression unreadable. “And, yes, that is a euphemism,” Graham added, his tone bordering on sheepish.

Harry came over to the two of them, “Did something happen between you two?” he asked.

Emma turned to Harry, “I’ll tell you later. Just head back to the loft, ok?”

Harry nodded and then he left. Once Emma was sure that Harry was gone, she turned to Graham. “I’m not avoiding you,” Emma shot back, her voice cold. “I just have no interest in having this conversation. It’s your life, Graham, and I really don’t care.”

The night air was crisp as Emma stepped outside Granny’s Diner, her boots crunching against the gravel lot. She heard the familiar sound of footsteps behind her and turned, already knowing who it was. “Emma, wait,” Graham called, his tone insistent. He caught up to her, his breath visible in the cool air. “Can we talk?”

Emma crossed her arms, her patience already running thin. “What is there to talk about?”

“If you don’t care,” Graham pressed, his frustration clear, “then why are you so upset?”

Emma scoffed, shaking her head. “I’m not upset.”

“If that were true,” Graham countered, stepping closer, “you’d still be in there having a drink with me, not running out like this. Just talk to me. I need you to understand.”

She exhaled sharply, turning away from him. “Why?” she asked flatly, her voice heavy with exasperation.

Graham hesitated, his words catching in his throat. “Because… I don’t even understand it myself.”

Emma turned back to face him, her eyes narrowing. “Go talk to Archie if you need analysis, Graham. Your bad judgment? That’s not my problem.”

He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “You don’t know what it’s like with her,” he said finally, his voice dropping. “I don’t feel anything. Can you understand that?”

Emma’s jaw tightened as she stared at him, her fingers tapping against her crossed arms. “A bad relationship? Yeah, I understand that. But I don’t want to talk about yours.”

Graham shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his boots before glancing back up at her. “I didn’t want you to look at me the way you are now,” he admitted softly, his voice tinged with regret.

Emma’s expression flickered, something almost vulnerable crossing her features before she quickly masked it. “Why do you care how I look at you?”

“Because…” Graham trailed off, his words hanging in the air as his gaze unfocused.

Suddenly, he closed the distance between them, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a desperate, impulsive kiss. His breathing slowed as blurred images flashed through his mind—a forest, shadowed and surreal. The faint rustling of leaves. And then, the wolf. Its mismatched eyes—one red, one blue—pierced through the haze like a haunting memory.

Emma shoved him back, her voice sharp with disbelief. “What the hell was that?”

Graham staggered, his hands shaking as he raised them defensively. “Did you see that?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“See what?” Emma snapped, her anger flaring. “How much have you been drinking? That was way over the line.”

“I’m sorry,” Graham stammered, his hand moving to his head as though to steady himself. “I just—”

“You just what?” Emma demanded, her voice rising. “What were you thinking?”

“I need to feel something,” Graham admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of the confession.

Emma’s expression softened for the briefest moment, but it quickly hardened again. “Listen to me, Graham,” she said firmly. “You’re drunk, and you’re full of regret. I get it. But whatever it is you’re looking to feel, I can tell you one thing—you’re not getting it from me.”

With that, Emma turned on her heel and walked away, her boots echoing against the pavement as she disappeared into the night. Graham stood motionless but then he ran over to Regina’s house. At the foot of Regina Mills’ house, the crisp night air pressed against his skin. His mind raced, unsettled and searching, but his body moved with purpose as his fist rose to knock against the polished wood of the door. Within moments, the door creaked open, and Regina appeared, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp, taking him in with a flicker of curiosity. “Graham,” she said, her tone cool yet expectant.

“Is Henry asleep?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

She gave a small nod, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Yes. Why?”

But Graham didn’t answer. The words he might have said dissipated as he stepped forward into the dim light of her doorway. Without a moment’s hesitation, he closed the space between them, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was desperate, searching, and full of the frustration and confusion that had plagued him since he left the diner. Regina didn’t pull away. Instead, she welcomed the storm he brought with him, pulling him into the house and shutting the door behind them.

(Enchanted Forest)

The kingdom was shrouded in mourning, veiled by grief as black as the clouds that hung low over the palace. The king—Snow White’s beloved father—was dead. No one knew what had stolen his life. The servants whispered of how he was found cold and lifeless in his chamber bed, but the cause remained a mystery cloaked in sorrow. In the grand hall, the king’s coffin lay draped in rich fabrics of white and gold. Snow White knelt before it, her fingers trembling as she placed a single white rose atop his still chest. The weight of loss pressed down on her like the oppressive silence that filled the room.

Behind her, the Evil Queen watched, her face a mask of compassion. Her steps were soft as she approached Snow, her touch gentle as her hand came to rest on the girl’s shoulder. Snow wept openly. The tears that streaked her face were not just for the father she had lost, but for the future that now seemed so uncertain. The Evil Queen’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her into an embrace that felt comforting, yet cold. “I loved him so much,” Snow whispered, her voice breaking.

The Queen’s voice dripped with honeyed sincerity. “So did I, dear. So did I. His loss cuts me to the core. But no pain I feel could compare to what you must be enduring. I may not be your mother by blood, but I am here for you—always and forever.”

Snow’s tears fell harder as the Queen held her closer, whispering false promises into the storm of her grief. Later, within the shadowy walls of the Dark Palace, the Evil Queen stood in her private chamber, her lips curled in satisfaction. The Magic Mirror shimmered before her, his reflective surface pulsing with malevolent energy. “Congratulations, your revenge is nearly complete,” he intoned, his voice smooth and cold.

The Queen turned to him, her eyes alight with cruel satisfaction. “One down. One to go.”

“She has no idea, does she?” the Mirror asked, his tone heavy with curiosity.

A slow, sinister smile spread across the Queen’s face. “That I orchestrated his death? She clings to me for comfort. It’s almost unbearable, how pathetic she is. Do you know how tempting it was to end her miserable life then and there?”

“Tempting, but unsatisfying,” the Mirror mused. “Her death must be more… meaningful.”

The Queen nodded, her expression hardening. “Exactly. The kingdom adores her. They would turn against me if I acted rashly. They don’t see the vile wretch she truly is. They don’t know what she did to me. Her downfall must be precise, and elegant. It must destroy not just her life, but her legacy.”

“Then it must be handled with care,” the Mirror agreed. “A knight, perhaps?”

“No,” the Queen said sharply, her tone decisive. “Knights are bound by honor. I need someone devoid of such weakness. Someone who kills without question. Without mercy.”

The Mirror’s surface shimmered, revealing an image of a rugged man stalking through the forest, blade in hand. “A huntsman, then. One with no heart to weigh him down.”

The Queen’s eyes gleamed with dark delight. “Now you understand.”

Deep within the Enchanted Forest, the Huntsman moved silently among the trees, his every step a practiced dance of stealth. A stag stood before him, majestic and unaware of its fate until the moment the blade struck true. The Huntsman knelt over the lifeless creature, his voice low and reverent. “You have died so that I may live. Your sacrifice is not in vain.” He placed his hand over the creature’s body, a gesture of solemn respect.

From the shadows, a wolf emerged, its piercing gaze fixed on the man. The Huntsman turned to the creature, his expression softening. “Don’t worry, boy,” he murmured, his voice calm. “You won’t go hungry tonight.”

The wolf sat back on its haunches, its mismatched eyes—one red, the other blue—glinting in the fading light. Together, man and beast disappeared into the forest’s depths, unaware of the dark purpose that would soon intertwine their fates.

(Storybrooke)

The room was stifling, heavy with silence and shadows. Sheriff Graham woke with a jolt, his chest heaving as if he had run for miles. Sweat clung to his skin, soaking the sheets beneath him. He sat up, pressing a hand to his face, the vivid remnants of a dream flickering in his mind. It wasn’t just a dream—it felt too real. Regina stirred beside him, her voice soft but edged with curiosity. "What is it?" she asked, sitting up slightly.

Graham didn’t look at her immediately. His thoughts were elsewhere, back in the dream—no, the memory—of the forest. The weight of the bow in his hands, the release of the arrow, and the stag falling to the forest floor. And then the wolf, its mismatched eyes, one a vivid blood-red, the other an endless void of black. It had stared at him with an unsettling intelligence as if it knew him. He finally responded, his voice low and troubled, recounting the strange vision. Regina listened, her expression shifting from mild concern to something unreadable when he mentioned the wolf. She reached for his arm, her touch light but firm.

"It was just a dream," she said, her tone almost too even. "Come back to bed, Graham."

But he couldn’t shake the unease that clung to him. "It didn’t feel like a dream," he muttered, already rising from the bed.

He began pulling on his clothes, the movements brisk and filled with a restless energy. He needed air, and space to think. Regina’s voice followed him, soft but insistent. "You’re tired. It’s late. Stay."

He hesitated, glancing at her. The worry in her eyes seemed genuine, but something about her plea felt wrong. Graham shook his head. "I left my car at Granny’s," he said, pulling on his boots. "I need to get it. Clear my head."

Regina sat up straighter, her tone hardening. "You’re not well. Don’t leave."

He met her gaze briefly, the flicker of defiance in his eyes. "Since when do you want me to stay, anyway?" he asked, the words more resigned than bitter. He stood, slipping his keys into his pocket.

She didn’t answer, her silence sharp and cutting. Graham didn’t linger. Outside, the night was cold and quiet, the air bracing against his skin. He walked toward the street, his boots crunching on the gravel. Reaching for his car keys, he fumbled them, dropping them onto the ground. As he bent to pick them up, a shadow moved in the corner of his vision. When he straightened, he froze; a wolf stood a few feet away, its pale fur gleaming under the faint moonlight. Its mismatched eyes locked onto his, one red as fire, the other dark as a starless sky. The wolf didn’t growl or advance—it simply stared, unblinking and intense.

Graham took a step back, his breath catching. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath with him. Then, the wolf turned away, padding silently into the shadows, its form swallowed by the night. Graham stood rooted to the spot, his heart racing. Whatever that had been—dream or memory, hallucination or reality—it had shaken something deep within him. He looked back at the house briefly, then at the darkened street ahead. With a sigh, he pocketed his keys and began walking, the wolf’s gaze lingering in his mind like a warning he couldn’t yet understand.

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of the loft, casting soft beams across the kitchen as Harry moved around, making breakfast. He cracked eggs into a pan and chopped vegetables, his black wolf, Toothless, sitting patiently nearby, eyes glowing an acid-green as he watched the movements of his companion. Harry wanted to do something nice for Emma and Mary Margaret, a way of thanking them for letting him and Toothless stay for a while. A small gesture, nothing too grand. As Harry stirred the eggs, he noticed Emma coming downstairs, her footsteps slow but purposeful. She paused when she saw the flowers on the kitchen table, her eyes narrowing.

"Really?" Emma said, raising an eyebrow and grabbing the bouquet. Without a second thought, she tossed them into the garbage bin with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

Mary Margaret, who had just walked in, blinked in surprise. "Oh. Hey. Wait, what are you doing?"

Emma glanced at her, then at the trash. "If Graham thinks flowers will work on me—"

Mary Margaret widened her eyes in shock. "No, those were mine."

Emma froze, her eyes darting between Mary Margaret and the trash. "Oh. From David?"

Mary Margaret sighed. "No. Dr. Whale."

Harry looked surprised to hear that Mary Margaret’s flowers were from Dr. Whale. He had witnessed her on a date with Dr. Whale before but he was more into staring at Ruby than getting to know Mary Margaret. He turned off the stove for a moment then turned to Mary Margaret. “ Are we talking about the same Dr. Whale that acted like a jerk on your late date?” Harry asked.

"I know," Mary Margaret groaned, rubbing her forehead. "It’s a disaster."

Emma smirked. "No. That’s amazing. You’re getting over David."

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. "First of all, there’s nothing to get over. And second of all, just a one-night stand."

Emma tilted her head, unconvinced. "Not according to those flowers."

Mary Margaret sighed again. "Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have called him."

Emma blinked, genuinely surprised. "Oh my God. You called him? That’s definitely not a one-night stand."

"I… Okay," Mary Margaret stammered, flustered. "I’m still learning. I… I never had one before. I felt guilty."

Emma shook her head, her expression softening. "Why? There’s nothing wrong with what you did. Trust me. One-nighters are as far as I ever go."

Mary Margaret shot her a pointed look. "That’s because you’re—"

"Because I’m what?" Emma interrupted, narrowing her eyes, a challenge in her voice.

Mary Margaret hesitated, then sighed, giving in. "Never mind."

Emma leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms, eyes searching Mary Margaret’s face. "Yeah, tell me. What do I do?"

Mary Margaret took a deep breath. "You’re just protecting yourself. With that wall you put up."

Emma’s face hardened slightly. "Just because I don’t get emotional with a man?"

Mary Margaret stared at her for a moment before replying, her voice gentle but firm. "You don’t get emotional with a man? The floral abuse tells a different story."

Emma blinked, clearly confused. "What story is that?"

"The one that’s obvious to everyone—except apparently you," Mary Margaret said, picking the flowers out of the trash and walking toward the vase on the counter. "That you have feelings for Graham."

Emma scoffed. "Come on."

"There’s a wall," Mary Margaret said, her tone softening as she arranged the flowers in the vase.

Emma shook her head, a little defensive. "That’s not a wall."

Harry, who had been quietly listening, put the spatula down and cleared his throat. "You know, Emma, sometimes walls just make things harder, not easier."

Emma shot him a quick, sharp look. "Oh, really? And how would you know?"

Harry leaned against the counter, folding his arms. "Because I’ve seen people build them—big, solid walls—only to realize later that they’re the ones keeping themselves from what they want most." He glanced at Mary Margaret, who gave him a small, grateful smile, before turning back to Emma. "Just saying, sometimes letting a little light in helps."

Emma let out a breath, her arms still crossed, eyes narrowing. "I don’t get emotional with a man," she repeated, though her voice lacked the conviction it had before.

Mary Margaret smiled gently as she placed the vase on the table. "Really?"

Emma exhaled, slightly frustrated. "There’s nothing wrong with being cautious."

"True," Harry said, giving a small nod. "But what if that wall’s been up for too long, and it’s blocking out something good?"

Mary Margaret looked between them, eyes softening as she watched Emma’s hesitant expression. "Emma, that wall of yours—it may keep out pain. But it also may keep out love."

Emma looked at the floor, her face a mix of contemplation and uncertainty, as Mary Margaret walked away, leaving Harry and Emma in the kitchen's quiet. Sensing the shift in energy, Toothless padded over to Harry’s side and nudged him gently with his snout, as though offering silent support. Harry smiled down at the wolf, rubbing his ears. "Thanks for that, bud."

Emma sighed, still standing at the counter, her arms now uncrossed, but her mind clearly far away. Harry didn’t press, but his unspoken words lingered in the air.“Emma,” Harry began, his voice calm but insistent. “What were you and Graham talking about the other night?”

Emma stiffened slightly, knowing she couldn’t avoid the topic any longer. She took a deep breath, her fingers drumming lightly on the counter. “The real reason Graham would be out from the night shift,” she said finally, her voice low but steady, “is because he’s… sleeping with Regina.”

Harry’s reaction was immediate. His face contorted with a mix of shock and disgust. “The hell?! What is wrong with him?!” He glanced toward the stairs, his expression softening slightly. “And Henry…?”

“He doesn’t know,” Emma replied firmly, though the tension in her voice was palpable.

Harry exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he turned back to the stove. Without another word, he finished preparing breakfast, sliding a plate in front of Emma. Emma opened her mouth to say something, but Harry cut her off. “Me and Toothless will deal with Graham.”

Before Emma could protest, Harry grabbed his jacket, whistling softly for Toothless, who had been quietly lying by the door. The black wolf rose gracefully, his acid-green eyes gleaming as he padded over to Harry’s side. Minutes later, Harry and Toothless arrived at the sheriff’s station, only to find Graham’s desk empty. A glance at the clock confirmed it was well past the time he should’ve been there. Harry muttered something under his breath, a mix of frustration and determination, before heading back outside.

Sheriff Graham moved cautiously through the dense trees, following the wolf he had seen earlier. The creature’s silhouette was faint, darting in and out of view, but its presence was undeniable. A distant howl echoed through the woods, sending a shiver down Graham’s spine. He paused when another sound reached his ears—a rhythmic scraping, unmistakably the sound of a shovel digging into the earth. Graham adjusted his grip on his flashlight and moved toward the noise. “Good morning, Sheriff,” a familiar voice called out as Graham stepped into a small clearing. Mr. Gold stood there, his posture casual as he leaned on his shovel. “Sorry if I startled you.”

Graham relaxed slightly, though his confusion remained. “Right. Sorry, I—I thought you were a wolf.”

Gold smirked, raising a brow. “Did I forget to shave?”

The sheriff shook his head, glancing around the clearing. “What are you doing out here so early?”

Gold gestured to the freshly dug earth at his feet. “A sport of gardening. Yourself?”

“I was looking for…” Graham hesitated, his eyes darting back toward the trees.

“A wolf,” Gold interjected smoothly. “Yeah, I think I’ve been able to catch on. You know, to the best of my knowledge, there are no wolves in Storybrooke. Not the literal kind, anyway. Why are you looking?”

Graham hesitated again, then sighed, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

Gold tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Try me.”

“I saw one in my dreams,” Graham admitted, his voice dropping. “And then I saw one for real. Just a few hours ago.” He gestured vaguely toward the spot where he’d last seen it. “Did you—did you see anything unusual right there?”

Gold studied his shovel for a moment, then looked up with a faint smile. “I’m afraid not. I do wish I could be more helpful.” He walked past Graham, but paused after a few steps, turning to face him again. “You know, Sheriff, they say that dreams…” Gold’s voice dropped slightly, his words deliberate. “…dreams are memories. Memories of another life.”

Graham frowned, his confusion deepening. “W-What do you believe?”

Gold’s smile widened ever so slightly. “I never rule out anything.” He tipped his head in farewell. “Good luck, Sheriff. I do hope you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

As Gold disappeared into the woods, Graham remained rooted to the spot, his thoughts spinning with questions he couldn’t yet answer. A rustle in the bushes nearby broke the silence. Toothless stepped into view first, his sleek black fur blending seamlessly with the shadows. His acid-green eyes locked onto Graham, unblinking and almost predatory. A moment later, Harry emerged from the trees, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “Graham,” Harry called his voice firm but not aggressive. “We need to talk.”

Graham tensed, his hand instinctively moving toward his flashlight, though he made no move to draw it. “Harry? What are you doing out here?”

“Following you,” Harry replied bluntly, crossing his arms as Toothless padded closer to his side. “Emma told me what’s going on.”

Graham’s eyes widened slightly, guilt flashing across his face. “It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think,” Harry cut him off. “You’re running around chasing wolves because you’re too scared to face the mess you’ve made. What the hell were you thinking, getting involved with Regina of all people?”

Graham’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. “You don’t understand—”

“No, I don’t,” Harry interrupted, his tone sharp. “But I understand enough to know this isn’t just about her. There’s something else going on with you, isn’t there?”

Graham hesitated, glancing at Toothless, whose piercing gaze seemed to bore into him. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “Something’s happening to me. I’m seeing things—dreams, memories… I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

Harry’s posture softened slightly, his frustration giving way to genuine concern. “Then let me help you figure it out,” he said. “But you need to stop running from this. Whatever it is, it’s not going to go away just because you ignore it.”

Graham looked between Harry and Toothless, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his inner turmoil pressed down on him. “I don’t know where to start.”

“You already did,” Harry said, gesturing to the woods around them. “But next time, don’t do it alone. Come on—let’s get back to town before someone else starts asking questions.”

With a reluctant nod, Graham followed Harry and Toothless back toward the edge of the forest, the distant howl of a wolf echoing faintly behind them. Suddenly, Graham took off following the wolf’s howls. Harry groaned and realized that this was gonna be harder than he thought.

(Enchanted Forest)

The dense forest gave way to a narrow path, where the Huntsman strode silently alongside the wolf that had become his only companion. The two moved as one, their steps synchronized in an almost predatory rhythm. The Huntsman’s expression was stoic, but his hand brushed the wolf’s fur in a gesture of quiet camaraderie. Beyond the trees, the faint glow of a tavern’s windows broke through the darkness, the sounds of laughter and clinking mugs beckoning from within. Pushing open the heavy door, the Huntsman stepped inside, the wolf padding close at his heels.

Conversations quieted as heads turned toward the pair, the wolf’s presence drawing murmurs of unease. A tankard of ale clattered onto the Huntsman’s table, the barkeep sliding it across without a word. The Huntsman reached into a pouch at his side and tossed a chunk of meat to the wolf, who caught it midair before settling under the table to eat. Across the room, the murmurs turned to mockery. “They’re letting animals in here now?” one man sneered, his voice loud enough to carry.

“This isn’t a slaughterhouse,” another added, wrinkling his nose.

A third man leaned closer, his voice dripping with derision. “Forget it. He might as well be one, too. I heard he was raised by them.”

The group laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “He smells like them, too,” another man chimed in.

“Pathetic,” a fifth scoffed. “I heard he cry over his kills. Imagine that. A grown man weeping over a dead deer.”

One of them, braver—or perhaps more foolish—than the rest, approached the Huntsman’s table. His voice was low and mocking. “Tell me, Huntsman. What kind of man cries over an animal?”

The Huntsman raised his gaze, his voice steady and unyielding. “An honorable one.”

The man smirked. “What do you know about honor?”

“I have it,” the Huntsman replied. “They have it.” He glanced at the wolf. “You don’t.”

The man’s face twisted with anger. “Animals have honor?”

“They are pure of heart,” the Huntsman said, his voice calm yet edged with steel. “Not selfish and self-serving like people.”

The wolf rose to its feet, a low growl rumbling deep in its throat. Its mismatched eyes fixed on the man, a clear warning in its posture. The man took a step closer, his hand dropping to the hilt of a knife. “Tell him to back off. Because you know what I do to pets that threaten me? I hang them on my wall.”

The Huntsman moved faster than the man could react, his blade flashing as it plunged into the man’s shoulder. A strangled cry escaped him as he crumpled to the ground, clutching the wound. “He is not a pet,” the Huntsman said, his voice cold and final.

Another man lunged at him from behind, but the Huntsman twisted, seizing him by the arm and hurling him against a wall. The crash of breaking glass echoed through the tavern as the man struck a mirror, shards raining to the floor. The Huntsman bent down, picking up a shard of the shattered mirror. Its jagged edge gleamed in the flickering light as he turned to face yet another challenger. The man faltered, his courage evaporating under the Huntsman’s unyielding glare. Without a word, he turned and fled, the door slamming shut behind him. The Huntsman set the shard down on the table, his reflection briefly captured in its fractured surface.

Far away, in the shadowed halls of the Dark Palace, the Evil Queen watched the scene unfold within her enchanted mirror. A smile of satisfaction curved her lips as the image of the Huntsman lingered on the broken glass. “He’s perfect,” she murmured, her voice dripping with triumph.

She turned to one of her guards, her command sharp and clear. “Bring him to me.”

The guard bowed and left the chamber, the Queen’s gaze returning to the mirror, where the Huntsman’s silhouette faded into the forest.

(Storybrooke)

The forest was alive with the rustling of leaves and the faint call of distant birds. Harry and Toothless stood on the edge of a clearing, the tension between them and Sheriff Graham from earlier still palpable. Harry crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he watched Graham scan the trees ahead. “I still don’t understand what you’re hoping to find out here,” Harry said, breaking the silence.

Graham hesitated, “I just… I need to know what’s real. Something’s pulling me out here, and I can’t ignore it.”

Toothless, standing beside Harry, tilted his head and let out a low growl, his sharp ears twitching toward the distant sound of a wolf’s howl. Harry glanced down at his companion and sighed. “Fine,” Harry relented. “We’ll stick with you. But if this is some kind of wild goose chase…”

“It’s not,” Graham said firmly, his eyes briefly meeting Harry’s. “You can head back if you want, but I have to see this through.”

Without waiting for a reply, Graham started forward, his footsteps crunching against the forest floor. Harry and Toothless exchanged a look before following him, the wolf’s acid-green eyes scanning the woods for any movement. The distant howling grew louder, reverberating through the trees. Graham froze as a flash of dark fur darted between the trunks ahead. “There!” he called out, pointing.

Toothless let out a soft growl and lowered his body, ready to pounce if necessary. Harry held out a hand to calm him. “Let’s not spook it,” Harry whispered.

Graham nodded, stepping cautiously toward the spot where the wolf had disappeared. Suddenly, the creature emerged from the shadows, its piercing gaze locking onto Graham. The wolf stood still, its breath visible in the cool air. “What do you want?” Graham asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The wolf didn’t respond, of course, but its eyes seemed to hold an eerie intelligence. After a moment, it turned and began to walk away. “HEY!” Graham called, whistling sharply.

To Harry’s surprise, the wolf paused, then turned back and approached Graham. Toothless tensed but stayed by Harry’s side, his gaze fixed on the newcomer. Graham knelt down, hesitantly resting a hand on the wolf’s head. As soon as his fingers made contact, a rush of blurred images flooded his mind: A dense forest, alive with the sounds of nature. The Huntsman raising a knife. Snow White staring back at him, her eyes wide with fear. The wolf beside the Huntsman howling mournfully. The cold, stone walls of the Evil Queen’s vault. Graham gasped, jerking his hand away. The vision vanished, and the wolf darted back into the shadows, disappearing from view.

“Graham?” Harry stepped forward, his voice laced with concern. “What just happened?”

“I—I don’t know,” Graham muttered, his expression dazed. “But I need to figure it out.” Without waiting for Harry’s reply, Graham turned and began making his way back toward town.

Toothless let out a small huff, and Harry sighed. “We’re not done with this,” Harry muttered under his breath as he and Toothless followed.

The school bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Children poured out of the building, their laughter filling the air. Sheriff Graham hesitated at the entrance, gathering his thoughts before stepping inside. He found Mary Margaret in her classroom, tidying up after the day’s lessons. “Mary Margaret,” Graham said, his voice urgent. “Can I talk to you?”

She looked up, startled by his tone. “Graham, what’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“I think we—I think we know each other,” he said, his words tumbling out.

Mary Margaret offered a small, puzzled smile. “Of course we do.”

“No,” Graham interrupted, shaking his head. “Not from here. Not from Storybrooke.”

Mary Margaret frowned, setting down the stack of papers in her hands. “From where then?”

“Another life,” Graham said, his voice heavy with conviction.

Mary Margaret’s eyes widened, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. For a moment, the hum of the fluorescent lights above seemed deafening, and the weight of his words hung thick in the air. Mary Margaret blinked, unsure how to respond. “Graham… how long have we known each other?”

Graham’s gaze grew distant. “I don’t know. A while.”

“Do you remember when we met?” Mary Margaret asked, her voice hesitant.

“No,” Graham admitted. “Me neither. Isn’t that odd?”

Mary Margaret fidgeted with a stack of papers. “I don’t know. I—I suppose. I think that’s just life. Things get hazy.”

Graham stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. “Have I ever hurt you?”

“No, of course not,” Mary Margaret said, startled. “What is going on?”

“Do you believe in other lives?” Graham asked.

“Like heaven?”

“I mean like past lives,” he clarified.

Mary Margaret’s eyes widened slightly. “You’ve been talking to Henry.”

“Henry?”

“Oh, he has this book of stories,” she explained. “He’s been going on about how he thinks we’re all characters from them. From another land. That we’ve forgotten who we really are. Which, of course, makes no sense.”

“Right. No, of course,” Graham murmured, though his expression remained troubled.

Mary Margaret reached out to touch his arm. “Graham, you’re burning up. Go home and get some rest. I think you’ll feel much better after you’ve had some sleep.”

Graham nodded slowly. “Right. You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry I’ve disturbed you. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Mary Margaret said softly, watching as he left the classroom, his steps heavy with uncertainty.

(Enchanted Forest)

The chamber was cold, its air thick with the weight of ambition and cruelty. The Evil Queen stood before her gilded mirror, her reflection as sharp and unforgiving as the crown atop her head. The Huntsman, silent and stoic, knelt before her throne, his presence like that of a caged animal forced into submission. Her gaze raked over him, a predator appraising prey, though she knew better. He was no lamb. The wolves that raised him had seen to that.

“You’re a tortured one, aren’t you?” she purred, stepping closer, her gown trailing across the polished floor. Her voice carried a mixture of amusement and condescension. “Is this because your parents abandoned you to the wolves?”

The Huntsman’s lips tightened, his silence a shield. “Those weren’t my parents,” he finally replied, his tone low and steady. “All they did was give birth to me. The wolves are my family.”

“Wolves, indeed.” She circled him, a serpent coiling around its prey. “I’ve always believed there are two kinds of people: wolves and sheep. Those who kill and those who get killed. And you, Huntsman, you are most certainly a wolf.”

His eyes rose to meet hers, his expression unreadable. “Why am I here?”

Her lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’d like you to kill someone for me. Can you do that?”

“I kill for me,” he replied, his voice sharp and unwavering. “Why would I do anything for you?”

The Queen’s laughter was a soft, dangerous thing. “Because I have so much to offer. A place at my court. You’d become my official huntsman, awash in luxury, wanting for nothing.”

The Huntsman’s expression hardened. “I’m not interested in being a pet. This place is a cage.”

Her smile faltered for a moment before she regained her composure. “You’d be free to roam as you pleased,” she countered smoothly. “And what I need is no small task. My prey is beloved by all the kingdom. I need someone who won’t be blinded by that. Someone without compassion. Someone who’ll have no qualms carving a heart out and bringing it back for my collection.”

“That’s me,” he said simply, his words a challenge.

“As I suspected,” she said, satisfaction flickering in her dark eyes. “Now tell me: What will it take? What do you want? There must be something.”

The Huntsman straightened, his voice steady as he made his demand. “Outlaw the hunting of wolves. They are to be left alone. They are to be protected.”

The Queen’s brow arched, her smile curling back into place. “Simple enough,” she said.

The tension in the room thickened as the Huntsman asked, “So, who do you want me to kill?”

The forest was alive with the sound of rustling leaves and distant birdcalls, a stark contrast to the deadly silence that hung between the Huntsman and Snow White. She followed behind him, her steps cautious, her gaze darting toward the trees as if seeking an escape route. The Huntsman led her deeper into the woods, his movements deliberate, his expression cold. The shadows of the canopy played tricks on the forest floor, shifting and swaying as Snow White studied her surroundings. Her grip tightened around the strap of her satchel, her mind racing. Finally, unable to bear the silence, she reached into her bag and withdrew two apples.

She offered one to the Huntsman, her gesture a small attempt at breaking through his icy exterior. The Huntsman barely glanced at her before continuing forward. His indifference stung, but Snow White pressed on, forcing herself to speak, hoping for some glimmer of humanity from the man she feared would end her life. When his reply came, it was brief and clipped, the words doing little to soothe her growing unease. And then, without warning, she saw it: the truth in his eyes, the grim determination that revealed his intentions. Her heart raced as realization struck. She couldn’t wait any longer.

Reaching down, her fingers closed around a sturdy branch lying on the forest floor. With a burst of desperate strength, she swung it at him, the crack of wood against his armor reverberating through the trees. The Huntsman staggered but remained standing, his expression a mix of surprise and respect. Before he could recover, Snow White turned and fled, her feet pounding against the earth as she ran deeper into the woods. Behind her, the Huntsman straightened, brushing off the blow as if it were nothing. His wolf companion, watching silently from the shadows, let out a mournful howl.

The hunt had begun, and Snow White’s chance of survival now depended on her wits, her will, and the fragile hope that somewhere in the Huntsman’s heart, there might still be mercy.

(Storybrooke)

Emma stood behind her desk, flipping through a file before tossing it onto Graham’s desk with a sigh. She picked up a dart from the nearby table, aimed for the dartboard on the wall, and threw. The dart missed its target, clattering to the floor. “Great,” Emma muttered, bending down to retrieve it.

The door swung open, and Harry stepped in with Toothless trailing close behind. Toothless shook himself, scattering loose bits of foliage across the floor. Emma straightened, raising an eyebrow. “Harry, what’s with the dramatic entrance? And... your wolf’s tracking mud everywhere.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve had a morning,” Harry said, his tone sharp. He brushed past her, leaning against Graham’s desk. “We found Graham out in the woods.”

Emma froze, the dart still in her hand. “Graham? What was he doing out there?”

“Chasing a wolf. Not this one, obviously,” Harry replied, gesturing to Toothless, who snorted indignantly. “Something’s off with him, Emma. He’s acting... weird.”

“Weird how?”

Harry hesitated. “Like he’s remembering things that don’t make sense. He was talking about dreams, past lives... stuff that doesn’t add up.”

Emma frowned. “Past lives? Did you ask him if he’s been reading Henry’s book?”

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t need to. Whatever’s going on, it’s messing with him. And whatever he saw out there didn’t help.”

Emma crossed her arms, concern flickering in her eyes. “Okay. So what do you think it means?”

“I don’t know yet,” Harry admitted. “But I’ve got a bad feeling. You might want to keep an eye on him.”

Before Emma could respond, the door opened again, and Regina entered, her heels clicking against the tile. Regina’s eyes scanned the room, her lips curving into a thin smile as she spotted Emma. “Our taxes always hard at work, I see,” she remarked, her voice dripping with condescension.

Emma’s posture stiffened. “Graham isn’t here. I assumed he took a sick day—with you.”

Regina’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, so you’re aware of us? Good. That’s why I’m here. Because I’m also aware of your relationship with him.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a relationship with him.”

Regina’s gaze hardened. “Oh? So, nothing’s ever happened between the two of you? You forget, Miss Swan, I have eyes everywhere.”

“Nothing that meant anything,” Emma replied evenly, though her jaw tightened.

“Well, of course not,” Regina said, taking a step closer. “Because you’re incapable of feeling anything for anyone. There’s a reason you’re alone, isn’t there?”

Harry, who had been leaning silently against the desk, straightened at Regina’s words. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Regina barely spared him a glance. “Stay out of this Harry.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Emma’s life is none of your business, Regina.”

Regina turned back to Emma, ignoring him. “All due respect, the way I live my life is my business. But it becomes my concern when it infringes on my life. Stay away from Graham. You may think you’re doing nothing, but you’re putting thoughts in his head. Thoughts that are not in his best interest. You are leading him on a path to self-destruction.”

Emma met Regina’s gaze, her voice steady. “All due respect, Regina, but you don’t get to tell me how to live my life.”

Regina’s smile was cold. “Consider this your warning. Stay away.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left, her presence lingering like a storm cloud. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the Mills house as Graham approached the door. His steps were purposeful but hesitant, his mind swirling with flashes of memories that weren’t his—or at least, they didn’t feel like they belonged to the life he knew. His hand trembled slightly as he pressed the doorbell. Henry answered almost immediately, his curious eyes wide as he saw the sheriff standing there. Without wasting time, Graham explained why he’d come, his voice a mix of urgency and uncertainty.

Inside Henry’s room, the boy eagerly retrieved the storybook, flipping its pages to find the answers Graham sought. As Henry explained the Huntsman’s tale, the room felt heavy with revelation. Each word pieced together fragments of Graham’s visions—Snow White’s terrified eyes, the wolf’s howls, and the Queen’s cold grip on his heart. Henry’s certainty was unshakable, and his explanations were logical in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. Graham’s breath hitched as he stared at an illustration of the Evil Queen standing before her vault. He’d seen this before—in dreams, or perhaps in the flickering memories that now surfaced like ghosts.

The wolf had howled at the vault, and Graham knew, without question, that his heart was inside. With a sudden burst of resolve, Graham left Henry’s room. His footsteps echoed as he hurried down the stairs and out the door, his mind focused on the vault and the answers it held. Outside the Mills' house, Emma leaned against her car, her arms crossed as she spoke with Harry. Toothless sat nearby, his sharp eyes following every movement. The sound of footsteps drew their attention, and they turned to see Graham approaching, his expression strained but determined.

Emma intercepted him before he could pass. She could see the turmoil in his eyes, the way his shoulders were tight with tension. She asked him what was going on, her voice steady despite her growing concern. Graham’s answer was as bewildering as it was unsettling—he believed his heart was missing, and the wolf was guiding him to find it. Emma tried to reason with him, pressing her hand against his chest to prove his heart was still there, beating and real. For a moment, it seemed like her words might ground him, but then Graham froze, his gaze fixed on something behind her.

Emma turned just in time to see the wolf—its dark fur shimmering in the fading light, its piercing eyes locked on Graham. Without a word, Graham took off after the creature, his strides long and determined. Emma called after him but gave chase, unwilling to let him go alone. Harry rolled his eyes, “Here we go again.” he muttered as he and Toothless chased after Emma and Graham.

The wolf led them through the winding streets of Storybrooke, its movements swift and purposeful. The town’s edges blurred into the forest, the dense trees swallowing the pair as they pursued their quarry. The air was thick with tension, every snap of a branch and rustle of leaves amplifying Emma’s unease. Eventually, the wolf vanished into the shadows, leaving Graham and Emma standing at the edge of the Storybrooke Graveyard. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by Emma’s labored breathing as she tried to keep up. Harry and Toothless tailed behind until they stopped near Emma to catch their breath.

Graham moved forward, his eyes scanning the rows of headstones until they landed on a stone structure partially obscured by overgrown vines. It was the vault—the same one he’d seen in Henry’s book and in his memories. Emma hesitated, watching as Graham approached the vault with a mix of wonder and desperation. He insisted his heart was inside, his voice cracking under the weight of his conviction. Emma argued, trying to pull him back to reason, but his determination was unshakable. With a resigned sigh, Emma joined him. She tugged at the door, her strength useless against its lock.

Frustration bubbling over, she kicked it with all her might, the old wood splintering under her boot. The door creaked open, revealing the dark interior. The air inside was cold and damp, the faint scent of earth and decay filling the space. Graham stepped forward, his breath hitching as he took in the sight before him. Harry didn’t like this idea. He stayed with Toothless while Emma and Graham went deeper inside.

It was time to uncover the truth.

(Enchanted Forest)

The forest was eerily quiet, the sunlight filtering through the thick canopy casting shifting patterns on the ground. Snow White sat on a moss-covered rock, her movements deliberate as she scribbled on a piece of parchment. Her pen strokes were firm, though her eyes betrayed the weight of her emotions. The sound of footsteps breaking twigs reached her ears, but she didn’t flinch. The Huntsman emerged from the shadows, his imposing figure a sharp contrast to her vulnerability. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him. Despite the tension, Snow White did not stop writing.

She finished the letter with a flourish, folded it carefully, and addressed him. The letter in her hand trembled slightly as she extended it toward him. He hesitated, skepticism evident in his expression. His reputation as the Queen’s enforcer was one of ruthlessness, but something in her calm defiance gave him pause. He read the letter, the words cutting deeper than any blade ever could. His grip tightened around the hilt of his knife. Snow White did not cower; instead, she met his gaze with unwavering resolve. The blade glinted in the faint light as he raised it—but instead of striking, he turned his attention to a nearby stalk.

With a few precise movements, he fashioned a whistle, drilling holes into it with careful skill. Confusion flickered across Snow White’s face as he handed it to her. “Sign this when you need help,” he said, his tone firm but laced with an urgency she didn’t understand.

She blinked at him, the weight of his words settling in. When he commanded her to run, she hesitated only for a moment before taking off, her figure disappearing into the dense woods. The Huntsman stood frozen, the whistle still warm in his hand. He couldn’t return to the Queen empty-handed, but neither could he bring himself to deliver Snow White’s heart. The rustle of leaves drew his attention to a nearby stag, its graceful form standing still in the underbrush. An idea began to form, his resolve hardening as he prepared to face the Queen’s wrath.

The dark halls of the Evil Queen’s palace were as cold and unwelcoming as her demeanor. The Huntsman waited outside her chambers, the tension coiled tightly in his chest. A guard exited, motioning for him to enter. She appeared, draped in black, her presence commanding and severe. The weight of her gaze fell on him as she demanded to know if Snow White was dead. He presented the bag containing the stag’s heart, carefully keeping his expression neutral. But he had one final act of defiance. Before relinquishing the bag, he produced Snow White’s letter. The Queen’s curiosity was piqued, though she masked it with disdain.

She ordered him to read it aloud, her lips curling into a cold smile as she listened. As the Huntsman read the letter, Snow White’s words filled the chamber like a ghostly echo. Her message was one of sorrow, forgiveness, and a plea for compassion—a stark contrast to the hatred that consumed the Queen. For a brief moment, her expression flickered, a shadow of something unspoken crossing her features. She snatched the letter from him and approached the fireplace. Without hesitation, she threw it into the flames, her movements sharp and deliberate. “Don’t tell me you’re becoming a sheep,” she sneered, her tone laced with venom.

The Huntsman’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent. The Queen moved toward the neighboring room, cradling the heart as if it were a precious relic. She placed it in an ornate casket, her movements ritualistic. As she turned to the wall of drawers in her vault, she hesitated, waiting for the magic to respond. But nothing happened. Her fury ignited like a spark to dry kindling. She ripped the heart from the casket, her eyes blazing as she stormed back toward the Huntsman. “This isn’t her heart!” she bellowed, her voice cutting through the still air like a blade. “What did you do?”

Her rage was palpable, but the Huntsman remained resolute, standing firm against the storm of her anger. As punishment, The Evil Queen ripped the Huntsmen’s heart out of his chest. Now he was her slave to be controled; a pet. And all she had to do to keep him in line, was squeeze the heart and he would feel the crushing pain.

(Storybrooke)

The crypt loomed in the dim light, its stone walls cloaked in shadow and the air thick with the scent of age and decay. Sheriff Graham moved through the cold chamber with a restless urgency, his footsteps echoing against the ancient stone. The sarcophagus in the center dominated the room, its inscription carved with an almost sacred reverence: Henry Mills. Beloved Father.

But Graham wasn’t here to mourn. His hands trailed along the walls, pressing against every crevice, every uneven surface, searching for something hidden—something vital. His breaths came in short bursts, each one carrying the weight of his growing desperation. The room seemed to press in around him, suffocating and unyielding. He knocked over urns, scanned the walls again, and even tried shifting the sarcophagus itself, but nothing yielded. The silence around him became almost unbearable, broken only by the sound of Emma’s cautious steps behind him.

Still, he pressed on, fueled by a need he couldn’t quite explain, a hollow ache in his chest that he thought—hoped—might be filled here. Somewhere in this crypt, he believed, lay the answer to the void he felt inside. The moment shattered as footsteps approached from outside, each one deliberate and measured. The echo carried through the chamber, and an icy chill crept into the air. Graham froze, his instincts bristling as Emma stepped back toward the entrance.

The faint scent of roses wafted in as the figure appeared, her dark silhouette unmistakable against the light filtering through the crypt’s doorway. Regina Mills stood there, her presence as commanding as ever, her sharp gaze sweeping across the scene with a mix of suspicion and quiet fury. The silence that followed was heavier than words could have been. When the confrontation came, it was swift and heated—a clash of emotions and wills. Emma’s defiance met Regina’s venom, and Graham found himself caught in the middle, his own turmoil boiling to the surface. As the tension rose to its peak, the crypt itself seemed to hold its breath.

The air thickened with something unspoken, something ancient and dark. But when it was over, Graham followed Emma into the fading light, leaving Regina alone with her secrets and her father’s grave. When the crypt fell silent once more, Regina lingered. She placed the flowers she’d brought on the sarcophagus, her movements deliberate and almost tender. Then, with a glance around to ensure she was alone, she pressed her hand to the stone surface. The sound of grinding stone filled the chamber as the sarcophagus slid aside, revealing a hidden staircase that spiraled into the depths below. Without hesitation, Regina descended.

The air grew colder the farther she went, and when she reached the bottom, the flickering light of a single torch revealed a vault lined with countless drawers. Each one seemed to hum faintly, pulsing with an otherworldly energy. Her hand hovered over the drawers, each second stretching into eternity until she found the one she sought. The drawer slid open with a creak, revealing a casket nestled within. Carefully, almost reverently, she lifted the lid.

Inside lay a heart, faintly glowing, pulsing with an unnatural light. Regina stared down at it, her expression unreadable. She reached out, her fingers brushing the smooth, cold surface of the enchanted heart. This was her weapon. Her control. Her power. And she wasn’t about to lose it.

The light inside the sheriff’s office was soft and golden, a warm contrast to the tension that lingered in the room. Harry sat on the edge of one of the desks, idly scratching Toothless behind the ears as the wolf sprawled lazily on the floor, his tail flicking occasionally. Emma leaned against the desk across from them, an ice pack pressed to her cheek. Graham stood nearby, the iodine and cotton swabs on the desk beside him as he finished tending to her cut. The sting of the antiseptic was nothing compared to the storm of emotions that lingered between them.

“You’re lucky that punch didn’t break anything,” Harry remarked, breaking the silence. His tone was light, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes as he glanced at Emma.

Emma smirked faintly, though the motion made her wince. “I’ve had worse.”

Graham, however, seemed lost in his own thoughts, his hands still for a moment before he set down the swab. His movements were deliberate, as though grounding himself in the simple task of cleaning and bandaging the wound. Emma slowly walks over to him and then leans in kissing Graham. The kiss evokes Sheriff Graham to remember the events of his life in the Enchanted Forest previously shown in flashbacks in the order they’d occurred. Toothless let out a soft growl, lifting his head to peer at Graham with an inquisitive look. The wolf’s instincts were sharp, and he tilted his head, sensing the sheriff’s unease.

“Something’s changed,” Harry murmured, his gaze narrowing as he studied Graham. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

Graham looked up at him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he hesitated, as though unsure whether to speak. Then, slowly, he nodded. “I remember,” he said, his voice low but steady.

Emma’s brow furrowed. “Remember what?”

Graham’s gaze shifted to her, and for the first time, there was something in his eyes—something raw and unfiltered. “Everything,” he said quietly. “I remember everything.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, thick with meaning. Toothless let out a low rumble, his tail thumping against the floor as though he, too, sensed the significance of the moment.

But the moment was cut when Graham suddenly doubled over in pain; like he was having a heart attack. Harry rushed to call 911 but it was too late, Graham had collapsed onto the ground. Emma shook him; trying to get him to wake up but he was already dead.

What was believed to be a heart attack was actually Regina crushing Graham’s heart to dust. If she couldn’t have Graham then no one could.

Chapter 10: Desperate Souls

(Enchanted Forest)

The man known as Rumplestiltskin hadn’t always been the malevolent Dark One. Once, he was simply a man: a spinster, a father, and a soul trying to survive in a merciless world. Life in the Enchanted Forest had always been a cruel tapestry of toil and terror, but the Ogre Wars cast an especially long shadow over the land. Rumplestiltskin’s life was irrevocably marked by those dark times and his decisions in the name of love and fear.

Years before his name became synonymous with dread, Rumplestiltskin had fought in the Ogre Wars. However, his time on the battlefield was brief and ignominious. Fear had overtaken him, and in his panic, he injured his own leg to escape the carnage. That moment of cowardice branded him a cripple and a deserter, but to him, it was a necessary act to remain by the side of his son, Baelfire. Yet, his actions, or lack thereof drove a wedge between him and his wife, Milla, who abandoned their family, unable to forgive his perceived weakness. He made a promise to Baelfire that he would never abandon him.

Left alone with Baelfire, Rumplestiltskin found solace in the repetitive rhythm of his spinning wheel. It was the one thing that remained steady in a world spiraling out of control. The Ogre Wars worsened with every passing day, and the Duke’s army grew increasingly desperate. They began conscripting children from every village to replenish their forces, lowering the age limit with each decree. The youngest and strongest were ripped from their families to face the horrors of war. Any attempts by parents to resist were crushed, often brutally, by the Duke’s enforcer: the dreaded Dark One.

One morning, as the faint light of dawn seeped through the thin canvas of their tent, Rumplestiltskin sat hunched over his spinning wheel. The soft whirring of the spindle was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps and the flap of the tent being thrown open. “Papa! Papa!” Baelfire’s voice cracked with urgency. “They’ve come for Morraine!”

Rumplestiltskin’s heart sank. Grabbing his cane, he rose unsteadily to his feet. Together, father and son hurried outside, the cold morning air biting against their skin. In the village square, a scene of devastation was unfolding. Morraine’s parents clung desperately to their daughter as the Duke’s knights prepared to take her away. The family’s cries echoed through the village, a haunting symphony of grief and desperation. “No! No! Please!” Morraine’s father begged, his voice cracking with emotion.

Her mother sobbed uncontrollably, clinging to her child. “She’s just a baby! Don’t take my baby!”

The knight in charge, Hordor, remained unmoved. “Nonsense. She is a fine, strong girl,” he said coldly. “She’ll make a fine soldier.”

“It’s a mistake!” Morraine’s father cried. “She’s only fourteen!”

Hordor sneered. “At the orders of the Duke! The Ogre Wars have taken their toll this season. More troops will turn the tide.”

Baelfire clutched his father’s arm. “They lowered the age again, Papa.”

Rumplestiltskin’s grip tightened on his cane as his mind raced. “I know,” he murmured, his voice heavy with dread.

“Take her,” Hordor ordered. “She’ll ride with me.”

“No!” Morraine’s parents screamed in unison. 

Her mother, overcome with anguish, lunged at Hordor with a knife. Before she could strike, the air around her shimmered ominously. A sickening, choking sound followed as invisible magic clamped down on her throat. Her husband suffered the same fate, his pleas cut off as he struggled against an unseen force. Hordor’s expression didn’t waver. “The Dark One seems to think I can,” he said with a cruel smirk as he hoisted Morraine onto his horse.

Morraine’s screams grew fainter as Hordor rode away, leaving the devastated parents crumpled in the dirt. Baelfire turned to his father, terror etched into his young face. “My birthday is in three days,” he whispered. “They’ll come for me in three days.”

Rumplestiltskin’s heart clenched. Pulling Baelfire close, he vowed softly, “We’ll find a way. We’ll find a way.”

Nearby, Morraine’s mother let out a heart-wrenching wail that seemed to reverberate through the very soul of the village. Moraine was taken away by the knights; they showed no remorse for their actions. Rumplestiltskin held Baelfire tighter, his mind consumed by a singular thought: he had to protect his son. No matter the cost.

(Storybrooke)

Two weeks had passed since Graham's death, and Emma had been filling the role of acting sheriff. Among those hit hardest by his passing was Harry Jones, who had seen Graham as an older brother. Graham had been the first to offer Harry a position at the Sheriff’s Station, and his absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill. Harry found himself outside Mr. Gold’s shop, responding to a call Gold had made to the station. With a heavy heart, he stepped inside. The scent of old wood and polish filled the air, but there was something sharper, an earthy smell lingering. Gold’s voice echoed from the back. 

Harry followed the sound and found Gold seated at a desk, carefully applying lanolin to an old artifact. Gold looked up, his expression oddly sincere. "Let me just say, I'm sorry for your loss, my boy. The sheriff was a good man."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah, I know. I can't help but think... maybe there was something I could’ve done to help him."

Gold studied him for a moment before Emma’s voice cut through the air. "Gold? In here?"

"Well, it is my shop..." Gold muttered to himself.

Emma entered the back room, wrinkling her nose. "Whoa! What is that?"

Gold held up the brush. "Lanolin. Used for waterproofing."

Emma coughed. "Smells like livestock."

"It’s why sheep’s pelts repel water."

"It stinks. Ugh. If there's a reason you called the Sheriff's Department, can we talk about it quickly? Or... outside?"

Gold set down the brush and stood. "I just wanted to express my condolences. The sheriff was a good man. But, I see you’re still wearing the deputy’s badge." Emma glanced down. "After two weeks, the job becomes yours. You'll have to wear the real badge."

Emma shifted uncomfortably. "I guess... I'm just not in a hurry. Thanks for the kind words."

Gold gestured toward a box. "I have his things."

Emma blinked. "What?"

"The sheriff rented an apartment I own. Another reason for my call. I thought you might want a keepsake."

"I don't need anything."

Gold shrugged. "As you wish. I’ll give them to Mayor Mills. She was the closest thing he had to family."

Emma’s jaw tightened. "Not sure about that."

Gold smirked. "No love lost there, I see. Look, I feel these things will end up in the trash bin. You should take something." He lifted Graham’s leather jacket. "His jacket?"

Emma shook her head. Gold rifled through the box, pulling out a set of radios. "Your boy might like these. You could play together."

Emma hesitated, then took them. "Thanks."

Gold's eyes twinkled. "Children grow up so fast. Before you know it, you lose them."

Emma, feeling unsettled by Gold's words, quickly exits the shop, leaving Harry standing there with his arms crossed. He glanced down at the table of Graham's belongings, his fingers brushing over the sheriff's badge, the weight of it more emotional than physical. "You meant what you said, didn’t you? About Graham being a good man," Harry murmured, his gaze still locked on the items.

Gold watched him carefully, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Every word, dear boy. He was an honest man. A rarity in this town."

Harry nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "He believed in me. Gave me a chance when no one else did."

Gold's lips curled in a knowing smile. "Yes. And now, it's your turn to carry on that legacy. Whether you realize it or not."

Harry looked up at Gold, the older man’s words hanging heavily in the air. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a strange mix of grief and expectation. Taking a deep breath, Harry picked up Graham's badge and pocketed it before turning to leave. "Thanks, Gold. For keeping this stuff. I’ll take care of it."

Gold nodded, his smile never wavering. "I'm sure you will, dear boy. I'm sure you will."

As Harry walked out into the cold Storybrooke air, he felt the weight of the badge in his pocket and silently promised Graham that he wouldn’t let him down. Emma stood in front of the desk, staring at the sheriff's badge in her hand. The weight of it felt heavier than it should, a reminder of what she'd lost and what she was fighting for. Just as she was about to attach it to her jacket, the sound of heels clicking against the linoleum floor echoed through the office. Emma turned to see Regina Mills standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Oh, I'm sorry," Regina said, her voice dripping with insincerity. "That's not for you."

Emma squared her shoulders. "It's been two weeks. Promotion is automatic."

Regina sauntered further into the room, her eyes cold and calculating. "Unless the mayor appoints someone else within the time period. Which I'm doing today."

Emma arched a brow. "So who's it gonna be?"

 

Regina's smirk widened. "After due reflection: Sidney Glass."

Emma blinked, incredulous. "Sidney from the newspaper? How does that even make sense?"

"Well, he's covered the Sheriff's office for as long as anyone can remember," Regina said, feigning innocence.

Emma scoffed. "And he'll do whatever you want him to. You just cannot stand the fact that things have been getting better around here, can you?"

"Better?" Regina's tone sharpened. "Are you referring to Graham's death as 'better'?"

Emma's voice lowered. "No."

Regina stepped closer, towering over her. "He was a good man, Miss Swan. He made this town safe. And, forgive me for saying this, you have not earned the right of wearing his badge."

Emma’s grip on the badge tightened. "Graham picked me to be deputy."

Regina's expression turned icy. "He was wrong."

Emma's jaw clenched. "No, he knew what he was doing. He freed this office from your leash. You're not getting it back."

Regina’s eyes glinted with triumph. "Actually, I just did." She reached forward, snatching the badge from Emma's grasp. "Miss Swan, you're fired." With that, Regina turned on her heel and walked out, leaving Emma seething in the empty office.

Loud music filled the loft, the steady beat reverberating off the walls. Emma sat at the kitchen table, a broken toaster in front of her, frustration evident in the furrow of her brow. A bottle of scotch stood nearby, half-empty. She sighed, tapping the broken appliance with a wrench, muttering under her breath. Mary Margaret entered the room, switching off the music with a knowing glance. "Toaster broken?"

 

Emma groaned. "It wasn't when I started with it. Pretty sure it is now. I just needed to hit something."

Mary Margaret crossed her arms, concern etched on her face. "What's going on?"

Emma leaned back in her chair. "Regina fired me so she can put one of her own puppets in as Sheriff. That's my job!"

"Never heard you so passionate about it before." Mary Margaret gave her a small smile. "What happened?"

Emma shrugged. "Oh, I just know I want it back."

Mary Margaret sat across from her. "There must be a reason."

Emma sighed, swirling the glass in front of her. "Maybe..." Before she could continue, a knock sounded at the door. "I just want to beat her." She stood, opening the door to find Mr. Gold standing there, his cane in hand, a sly smile on his face.

"Good evening, Miss Swan," he greeted smoothly. "Sorry for the intrusion, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Mary Margaret stood. "I'll let you two talk." She patted Emma's shoulder before retreating to her room.

Emma gestured for him to enter. "Come on in."

Gold stepped inside, his eyes scanning the loft. "Thank you. I heard about what happened. Such an injustice."

Emma shrugged. "Yeah. Well, what's done is done."

Gold's smile widened. "Spoken like a true fighter."

Emma sighed. "I know what chance I'll have. She's the mayor and I am—well—me."

Gold leaned on his cane. "Miss Swan, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more. How would you like a benefactor?"

Emma eyed him warily. "A benefactor?"

Gold gestured to the table. "Do you mind?"

Emma nodded, and he sat down, placing his cane across his lap. "You know, it really is quite shocking how few people study the town charter."

Emma frowned. "The town charter?"

Gold's smile grew. "It's quite comprehensive on the mayor's authority. Or maybe she is not quite as powerful as she seems." He glanced toward the scotch bottle, then back at Emma with a knowing look. "Your desire to hit something... perhaps you'd rather hit back?"

Before Emma could respond, the door opened again, and Harry entered with Toothless trotting in behind him, sensing the tension in the room. Harry looked between them. "What's going on?"

Gold's gaze shifted to Harry, his expression calculating. "Ah, Mr. Jones. Just offering our dear Emma here a chance to reclaim what’s rightfully hers."

Harry crossed his arms. "And what's the catch?"

Gold chuckled softly. "Oh, nothing much. Just a little understanding of the finer points of governance." He tapped the table. "Do you know what the charter says about the rightful selection of a sheriff, Mr. Jones?"

Harry exchanged a look with Emma before sitting down. "I have a feeling you're about to tell us."

Gold leaned in, his smile never wavering. "Indeed I am."

(Enchanted Forest)

The night was thick with silence, save for the soft crackling of dying embers in the hearth. Inside a dimly lit cottage, Rumplestiltskin hovered over his sleeping son, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum. He reached out with trembling hands and gently shook the boy's shoulder. "Bae," he whispered urgently. "Bae, wake up, son. We’re going now. Come on."

Baelfire stirred, his dark lashes fluttering as he blinked away sleep. "Papa?" His voice was groggy, thick with exhaustion.

"Shh, we must go," Rumplestiltskin insisted, already gathering what little they had. "Hurry now."

Though confusion flickered in the boy’s blue eyes, he obeyed. He always obeyed. Together, they slipped into the night, the weight of their escape pressing upon them like an unseen force. The dense forest loomed ahead, its twisted trees casting gnarled shadows beneath the glow of the moon. Their boots crunched against the frostbitten ground, the cold air nipping at their skin. Baelfire pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "It feels wrong to run away," he murmured hesitantly.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to ignore the shame curling in his stomach. "It's worse to die, son. I’m not having you taken away to the Ogre Wars."

Baelfire glanced up at him, doubt lingering in his gaze. "Are you sure there's no other way?"

Rumplestiltskin didn't answer. He couldn't. As they trudged forward, the quiet was broken by a weak, rasping voice. A hunched figure emerged from the darkness—a beggar cloaked in tattered rags. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his frail hands stretched out in desperate plea. Rumplestiltskin hesitated, then fished out a few coins from his pouch and placed them in the old man's palm. "Here," he muttered before ushering Baelfire onward.

The beggar murmured his thanks as the two disappeared down the path. The night stretched on, the cold growing harsher. Just as Rumplestiltskin thought they might make it, the distant sound of hoofbeats sent a spike of terror down his spine. "Quick, hide!" he hissed, shoving Baelfire toward the ditch. "Go, go! Get down!"

The boy barely had time to scramble into the underbrush before torches flared to life, illuminating the night with an eerie glow. The riders closed in, surrounding Rumplestiltskin with practiced ease. A man dismounted—a knight clad in the King’s colors, the same knight from the morning that took Morine from her parents. His smirk was cruel, his voice laced with mockery. "Stop right there. What are you doing on the king’s road?"

Rumplestiltskin forced himself to meet the man’s eyes. "We—we have some wool to sell at the fair at Longbourne."

The knight, Hordor, sneered. "I know you, don’t I?" He stepped closer, his boots sinking into the damp earth. "Spindlehanks? Threadwhistle? Hobblefoot?"

Before Rumplestiltskin could stop him, Baelfire stepped forward from his hiding place. "His name’s Rumplestiltskin."

"Quiet!" Rumplestiltskin snapped, but it was too late.

Hordor’s grin widened. "Ah, the man who ran. And this must be your boy. How old are you?"

Baelfire straightened his shoulders. "Thirteen."

"When’s your birthday?"

"In two days' time."

Rumplestiltskin’s heart clenched. Hordor let out a cruel chuckle. "Did you teach him how to run as well, Rumplestiltskin? Did he tell you how he fled the battlefield, how the ogres turned the tide and slaughtered the others? Did he tell you how he returned home to a wife who could no longer bear the sight of him?"

Rumplestiltskin flinched, shame coiling deep in his chest. "Please…"

"You see," Hordor continued, stepping closer, "women don’t like to be married to cowards."

"Please don’t speak to my boy like that."

"It’s treason to avoid service." Hordor’s voice hardened. "Take the boy now."

Baelfire stiffened in fear as the soldiers reached for him. "No, no, no!" Rumplestiltskin fell to his knees. "What do you want?"

Hordor smirked. "What do I want? You have no money, no influence, no land, no title, no power. The only thing you have to give… is fealty." His lips curled as he raised his boot. "Kiss it."

Rumplestiltskin’s breath hitched. "Not in front of my boy."

Hordor’s eyes glinted with sadistic amusement. "Kiss my boot."

His stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat, but he lowered himself to the ground, pressing his lips to the cold leather. The soldiers erupted in laughter. Then, with a swift kick, Hordor sent him sprawling onto his back. "Papa!" Baelfire cried, but the knights were already mounting their horses.

They rode off, their laughter still echoing in the wind. Pain radiated through Rumplestiltskin’s ribs, but the sting of humiliation hurt far worse. He barely noticed the footsteps approaching until a familiar voice spoke. "No, no, no," the beggar from before murmured. "Let me help you."

Baelfire hurried to his father’s side as the old man knelt. "I don’t have any money to pay you," Rumplestiltskin muttered, his pride in tatters.

The beggar smiled knowingly. "I can think of another way. You just leave me whatever you can spare, and I’ll find a way to be your benefactor. Come."

Later that night, the fire crackled warmly in the small shelter they had found. The stew in the pot smelled rich, but Rumplestiltskin hardly had the appetite. Baelfire lay curled beneath a tattered blanket, fast asleep. Another day gone. Another inch closer to losing everything. "There’ll be no fleeing now," Rumplestiltskin murmured.

The beggar, sitting across from him, hummed in thought. "No. You need to find another way. You need to choose a different path."

Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "Choose? What choice do I have?"

"Everyone has a choice."

"I’m the town coward," he spat bitterly. "The only choice I have is which corner to hide in. I’m lame, friendless… The only thing I’ve got is my boy. And they’re going to take him away from me. If they do, I’ll truly become dust."

The beggar's eyes gleamed in the firelight. "Not if you have power."

Rumplestiltskin barked out a hollow laugh. "You may as well say diamonds."

The beggar’s gaze turned sharp. "Get a hold of yourself! Think. Why do you suppose someone as powerful as the Dark One serves the Duke of the Frontlands?"

Rumplestiltskin stilled. "...Tell me."

"The Duke has him enslaved. With a dagger—a mystical dagger bearing the true name of the Dark One. If you steal it, you will control him. No one would ever take your son away from you again."

Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard, his hands curling into fists. He didn’t want to control someone against their will. "Or," the beggar added, his voice taking on a chilling edge, "instead of controlling the power… you could take it."

Rumplestiltskin stared into the flames, the weight of his decision settling into his bones. A choice, a path; and for the first time in his life, he considered taking it.

 

(Storybrooke)

The Mayor’s office was filled with the soft hum of reporters murmuring amongst themselves. The cameras were in position, notepads ready to jot down Regina Mills’ latest decree. Sidney Glass stood beside her, straightening his tie as he prepared to step into the role she had so generously bestowed upon him. Regina cleared her throat, commanding attention with her presence alone. “Everyone deserves to feel safe in their own homes,” she declared, her voice firm. “That’s why Sidney Glass is my choice for the post of Sheriff. This man has put the needs of Storybrooke above his own for as long as any of us can remember as chief editor of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. Please welcome your new Sheriff!”

Just as she reached to pin the sheriff’s badge onto Sidney’s chest, the doors to the office swung open. “Hang on a second.”

Emma Swan’s voice cut through the air, drawing every eye in the room. She strode in, confident in her step despite the weight of the confrontation. Harry trailed a few steps behind her, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his sharp gaze flickering between Regina and Sidney. Regina’s lips pursed. “Miss Swan, this is not appropriate.”

“The only thing not appropriate is this ceremony,” Emma countered. She glanced at the reporters. “She does not have the power to appoint him.”

Regina’s expression hardened. “The town charter clearly states the Mayor shall appoint—”

“A candidate,” Emma interrupted. “You can appoint a candidate. But it calls for an election.”

Regina exhaled sharply, her patience thinning. “The term ‘candidate’ is applied loosely.”

Emma smirked. “No, it’s not. It requires a vote. And guess what, Madam Mayor? I’m running.”

Regina’s jaw clenched. She turned toward Sidney, who looked caught between confusion and mild terror. “Fine,” she said, voice clipped. “So is Sidney.”

Sidney blinked. “I am?”

Regina shot him a look, one that quickly straightened his spine. “I am,” he affirmed, though the uncertainty still lingered in his voice.

Regina turned back to Emma with a saccharine smile. “With my full support. I guess we’ll learn a little something about the will of the people.”

Emma’s smirk deepened. “I guess we will.”

As the reporters scrambled to capture the sudden turn of events, Harry leaned toward Emma, murmuring just loud enough for her to hear. “You sure about this? She’s gonna throw everything she’s got at you.”

Emma glanced at him, then patted his arm reassuringly. “That’s why I’m gonna need some backup.”

Harry frowned slightly, unsure where she was going with this until she reached into her pocket and pulled out her deputy badge. Without hesitation, she held it out to him. Harry blinked. “What—?”

“I figured I could use a partner,” Emma said with a grin. “And I can’t think of anyone better for the job.”

For a moment, Harry just stared at the badge, weighing the weight of what it meant. Then, with a slow smile, he took it from her, gripping it tightly. “Then let’s win this thing.”

Emma nodded, determination gleaming in her eyes. Regina watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, but Emma didn’t care. The game had changed. And this time, she wasn’t playing alone. Regina knew exactly who was supporting Emma. 

 

 

Mr. Gold sat behind his desk, watching the small flame of a lighter flicker in the dim light of his shop. The quiet hum of the antiquities around him was a comfort, the weight of countless deals and bargains lingering in the air like a perfume only he could appreciate. When the door swung open, and Regina Mills strode in with her usual commanding presence, he calmly snapped the lighter shut, snuffing out the flame with an air of indifference.

Regina moved with purpose, flipping the sign on the door to "Closed" without breaking stride. Gold observed her with a bemused expression, already anticipating the storm she had brought with her. She was never one for subtlety—her anger was like a fire, all-consuming and impossible to ignore. "You found that loophole in the town charter," she stated, her voice edged with barely restrained fury.

Gold simply tilted his head, feigning innocence as he moved toward one of his many cabinets. Legalities were a language he spoke fluently, and he took pride in knowing every technicality that others overlooked. He ran a hand along the polished wood, letting the moment, enjoying the tension crackling between them. "Legal documents, contracts... Always been a fascination of mine," he mused, his tone casual. There was power in the fine print, in the small details that people so often dismissed until it was too late.

Regina clenched her jaw, taking another step forward. Her control was slipping, and Gold reveled in it. He had seen this dance before—Regina, always grasping for dominance, refusing to accept that there were forces at play she could not manipulate through sheer will alone. His fingers brushed against the door of the cabinet, where his most valuable artifact lay hidden. "I like small weapons, you see," he continued. "The needle, the pen... The fine point of a deal." His smile was razor-sharp as he turned back to face her. "Subtlety—not your style, I know."

Regina’s lips curled in distaste. She despised his games, yet she was always forced to play them. Her grief over Graham was still raw, an open wound she refused to acknowledge, but Gold saw it all the same. It made her reckless. Desperate. And desperation often leads to mistakes. "You’re a bastard," she hissed, her voice low and venomous.

Gold only chuckled, unshaken by the insult. He knew she wanted to lash out, to make him feel the weight of her fury, but he was not so easily rattled. Instead, he let the silence stretch between them, watching her wrestle with her emotions, waiting for the inevitable. Regina narrowed her eyes. “Well, I think you picked a really slow horse this time. It’s not like you to back a loser.”

Gold smirked. “She hasn’t lost yet.”

“She will.”

His smile didn’t waver. “Never underestimate someone who’s acting for their child.”

Regina’s nostrils flared. “He’s not her child. Not legally.”

Gold chuckled again, stepping closer. “Oh, now who’s trifling with technicalities?”

Regina’s glare could have burned through steel, but Gold simply smiled, knowing the game was just beginning.

Granny’s Diner buzzed with its usual afternoon hum, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the warm aroma of grilled sandwiches. The neon sign flickered just outside, casting a red glow against the diner’s checkered floor. The bell above the door jingled as Emma Swan stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Henry, seated in a booth near the window. He was hunched over the latest edition of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror, the paper stretched open in front of him. The late autumn sunlight filtering through the glass highlighted the deep furrow in his brow as he read.

Across from Henry, Harry Jones sat with a steaming mug in hand, casually flipping through an old book he had brought along. His black coat was draped over the seat beside him, and Toothless, his ever-watchful companion, was curled at his feet under the table. The wolf barely stirred as Emma slid into the booth next to Henry, though his ears twitched slightly in acknowledgment. Emma nudged Henry lightly with her elbow. "How was school?"

"Okay," Henry muttered, not looking up, his fingers tightening around the newspaper. 

His focus remained locked on the article in front of him, his expression unreadable. Emma frowned, glancing at Harry, who lifted an eyebrow in silent concern before taking a slow sip from his cup. Something was off. “You’re reading that paper pretty hard,” she observed, tilting her head to get a better look at the front page.

Henry exhaled sharply, as if deciding something, and then passed the paper to her. "Sidney wrote it."

Emma’s eyes dropped to the headline, her stomach twisting at the bold print: Ex-Jailbird – Emma Swan birthed babe behind bars. The words hit her like a sucker punch. A cold weight settled in her chest as she stared at the article, her grip on the paper tightening. She could feel Harry watching her, waiting for her reaction. He didn’t speak, but the way he set down his mug told her he was paying close attention. "Is it a lie?" Henry asked, his voice quiet but pointed.

 

Emma swallowed hard before meeting his gaze. "No."

Henry hesitated, then looked at her fully. "I was born in jail?"

Emma exhaled slowly, nodding. "Yes. These records were supposed to be sealed." She forced a smirk, trying to lighten the weight in the air. "Tell me you’re not scarred for life."

Henry’s lips pressed together before he shook his head. "I’m not. Well, not by this."

Emma let out a short breath of relief, but the tension remained. "Good. Then let’s throw this out, and we’ll get our news from something more reliable." She crumpled the paper in her hands. "Like the internet."

Harry finally spoke up, his tone even but firm. "You should be careful, Emma. This wasn’t just an article—it was a move. Someone wanted this out there."

Emma met his gaze, understanding the unspoken warning. This wasn’t just some gossip column piece. It was strategic, designed to cut her down. And she had a pretty good idea who was behind it. Henry, however, wasn’t done. "This is what I’ve been trying to tell you," he said, pushing his hands against the table. "Good can’t be evil because good doesn’t do this kind of thing. My mom plays dirty—that’s why you can’t beat her. Ever."

Emma leaned back, rubbing her forehead. "I have a new ally. Mr. Gold said he’s going to help."

Harry’s head turned slightly, his expression darkening. Henry shook his head. "Mr. Gold? He’s even worse than she is. You already owe him one favor. You don’t want to owe him anymore. Don’t do this."

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the distant clatter of dishes and the low murmur of other patrons. Emma knew Henry had a point. And judging, by the way, Harry shifted slightly in his seat, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Still, she had to fight back. And in Storybrooke, sometimes fire had to be fought with fire. She stormed out of the diner while Harry and Toothless stayed with Henry. 

Storybrooke Town Hall carried an air of authority, its old wooden paneling and polished floors giving the illusion of order and control. Behind the closed doors of the mayor’s office, however, tension thickened the air like an oncoming storm.  The sharp click of Emma’s boots echoed as she strode inside, gripping the crumpled Storybrooke Daily Mirror in her hand. Her jaw was set, her eyes cold with anger. Regina stood near her desk, adjusting her coat as if preparing to leave, but the moment she spotted Emma, she let out a sigh of impatience. She barely had time to react before Emma tossed the newspaper onto her desk, the pages fanning out to display the damning headline. 

“This was a juvie record,” Emma stated, her voice low but laced with fury. “This was sealed by court order. I don’t know how you got it, but that’s abuse of power and illegal.”

Regina didn’t flinch. If anything, she seemed almost amused. She reached for her purse, barely sparing Emma a glance. "Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t want people to know you cut his cord with a shiv?"

Emma clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. It took everything in her not to react. Not to give Regina the satisfaction. "I don’t care what people know," she said, her voice controlled, "but this hurts Henry."

Regina finally looked up, tilting her head as if considering the statement. Her expression remained cool, unreadable. "He would’ve learned eventually. We all lose our heroes at some point."

Emma felt the sting of those words. They weren’t just meant for Henry—Regina was trying to get under her skin, trying to remind her that no matter what, she wasn’t the hero Henry thought she was. But Emma wasn’t here to play games. "He doesn’t need to lose anything more," Emma shot back. "He’s depressed, Madam Mayor. He doesn’t have any… any hope. Don’t you see that?"

Regina turned away, flicking off the lights as she prepared to exit. The conversation was over as far as she was concerned. "He’s fine."

But he wasn’t. And Emma knew it. She followed as Regina moved through the building, their footsteps ringing in the dimly lit hallway. Every fiber of Emma’s being told her to push harder, to make Regina understand the damage she was causing. "He’s not fine," she insisted. "I mean, think about it. Watching his adoptive mother throw an illegal smear campaign against his birth mother? You don’t think that would be upsetting?"

Regina gave her a sidelong glance, her expression carefully composed. "All I did was expose him to the truth. As for the legality—I did nothing wrong. But you and Sidney will have a chance to get into all that at the debate."

Emma stopped short. "Debate?"

Regina descended the staircase leading to the main hall, speaking over her shoulder. "Yes, Miss Swan, there’s a debate. You two can talk about jail time and juvie records and maybe even your new association with Mr. Gold." She cast a knowing smirk in Emma’s direction. "He’s a snake, Miss Swan. You need to be careful who you get into bed with."

Emma’s temper flared, but before she could snap back, the world around them exploded. A deafening blast ripped through the hall, shaking the walls and sending a shockwave through the building. The windows shattered instantly, glass raining down as flames erupted in the next room. The force of the explosion threw both women backward, slamming them into the ground. Emma’s ears rang, her vision spinning as she struggled to push herself up. Smoke filled the air, thick and suffocating, as the fire spread rapidly. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to her feet, coughing as she scanned the wreckage.

Regina lay beneath a heavy wooden beam, her face twisted in pain as she tried to move. Emma’s instincts took over. Rushing forward, she grasped the debris, straining as she shoved it aside. The heat was unbearable, the crackling of flames growing louder with each second. Regina gasped in pain, clutching her ankle. "Alright, come on," Emma said, looping an arm around Regina’s shoulders. "We’ve got to get out of here."

Regina’s breathing was ragged, and her usual composure shattered. "I can’t move!" she gasped. "You have to get me out. Help me!"

Emma didn’t hesitate. Ignoring the growing flames around them, she tightened her grip on Regina and hauled her up. The fire raged, but Emma refused to let it take them down.

 

(Enchanted Forest)

By morning, Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin were outside their modest home, preparing for the night’s perilous task. The crisp air of the Enchanted Forest was filled with the scent of damp earth and burning wood. Rumplestiltskin sat cross-legged on the ground, winding wool tightly around short wooden sticks, his nimble fingers working with practiced ease. A few feet away, Baelfire carefully soaked the wool in a pot of hot sheep’s fat, ensuring the fibers absorbed the liquid completely.

“Keep that fire good and stoked, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin instructed, his voice tinged with urgency. “The sheep’s fat needs to be liquid, and we need to get that wool good and soaked.”

Baelfire frowned as he stirred the pot. “Why are we doing this, Papa? This is good wool. We could spin it, sell it—”

“These are our keys to the castle, son,” Rumplestiltskin interrupted, his eyes gleaming with a strange intensity. “And once I’m inside, there’s something I have to take.”

Baelfire wiped his hands on his tunic and looked at his father warily. “What do you need to take?”

Rumplestiltskin hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “That old beggar? He told me a fine tale—about the Duke and his magical dagger.”

Baelfire’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What does it do?”

“If I own that dagger,” Rumplestiltskin said, his grip tightening on the stick in his hand, “I control the Dark One.” He pantomimed stabbing someone with an invisible blade. “And if I kill the Dark One with it, I take his powers.”

Baelfire’s breath hitched. “By God’s name…”

Rumplestiltskin’s face lit up with excitement. “Imagine me with those powers! Can you imagine, Bae? I could redeem myself. I could turn that dark magic towards good. I’ll save all the children of the Frontlands—not just you, my boy.”

Baelfire swallowed hard. “I’d love to see that, but… if the law says I’m to fight, I… I can fight.”

“No, no, no!” Rumplestiltskin exclaimed, shaking his head vehemently. “The law doesn’t want you to fight, son. The law wants you to die. That’s not battle—that’s sacrifice.” He gestured towards the horizon, where the morning sky was painted in streaks of red and gold. “You see that red in the sky? That’s not the fires of the battlefield—that’s the blood of our people, son. The blood of children. Children like you. What sane person would want to get involved with that?”

Baelfire looked at his father intently, his young face clouded with doubt. “So, it’s true.”

Rumplestiltskin stilled. “What?”

“It’s true you ran.”

Rumplestiltskin’s expression darkened. “I had no choice, son.”

“And Mother?” Baelfire pressed. “Did she leave you, like the knight said? You told me she was dead.”

A shadow crossed Rumplestiltskin’s face. His voice dropped to a whisper. “She is dead.”

Baelfire studied him for a moment, then nodded, resigned. “So, what do we need to do?”

Rumplestiltskin exhaled and knelt beside him. “The Duke’s castle is made of stone, but the floors and the rafters are made of wood.”

Baelfire frowned. “Why does that matter?”

“Because wood burns.”

(Storybrooke)

Flames flickered along the scorched walls of the mayor’s office, casting eerie shadows that danced across the debris-strewn floor. Smoke coiled in thick, suffocating tendrils, making every breath feel like inhaling fire. Emma’s heart pounded as she steadied herself, her gaze darting toward the exit. The way out was finally clear. She stepped forward, only to feel a sudden, desperate grip on her wrist. Regina’s fingers clung to her like a vice, her dark eyes gleaming with something raw, something vulnerable beneath the soot and sweat. Emma froze. The unspoken plea in Regina’s expression was louder than any words could be.

But the moment stretched too long, and Emma wrenched free, stepping into the next room, the weight of Regina’s unspoken question lingering in the air like an accusation. Ash rained from the ceiling as Emma moved with determination, snatching a fire extinguisher from the wall. The hiss of foam against flames was almost deafening in the chaos, white mist swirling as she fought to control the inferno. Heat prickled against her skin, but she pressed forward, clearing a path. When the worst of the fire had been subdued, she rushed back to Regina, who was struggling to move, her ankle twisted painfully beneath her. 

Without hesitation, Emma crouched, looping Regina’s arm over her shoulder, ignoring the weight pressing down on her as they staggered toward the exit. Regina’s sharp complaints rang in her ear, but Emma barely heard them over the distant wail of sirens. The cool night air hit Emma like a shock when they burst through the ruined doorway. She exhaled, finally letting herself breathe, though her lungs still burned with smoke. Flashing red and blue lights painted the wreckage of the town hall in frantic streaks. Reporters had already gathered, cameras clicking as the townsfolk murmured amongst themselves. 

Emma barely had time to register the crowd before the flash of a camera captured her and Regina, frozen in the moment—one woman barely standing, the other bearing the weight of her rival. Regina’s grip on Emma tightened as she groaned in pain. “Oh, ow, ow! My ankle! Set me down gently!” she hissed.

Emma scoffed, finally lowering her onto the awaiting stretcher. “Seriously? You’re complaining about how I saved your life?”

The distant roar of fire engines grew louder, the uniformed figures of firefighters moving swiftly to contain the damage. Regina adjusted her position on the stretcher, wincing. “The firemen are here,” she muttered. “It’s not like we were really in danger.”

Emma let out a sharp breath, shaking her head as she turned to leave. “Fine. Next time, I’ll just… I’ll just…” She turned back, glaring. “You know what? Next time, I’ll do the same thing. And the time after that. Because that’s what decent human beings do. That’s what good people do.”

Henry’s voice drifted from the crowd, laced with wonder. “Did Emma really rescue my mom?”

On the stretcher, Regina’s head snapped up. Her oxygen mask had barely been secured before she tore it off with a growl. “Enough!” she barked.

The paramedic beside her sighed. “Regina—”

“I’m fine.”

A new camera flash exploded in her face, and she whipped her head around to find Sidney grinning at his latest shot. “Nice shot of the victim?” he quipped.

Regina glowered, sitting up despite the medic’s protests. “Sidney? What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to hand this election to her?”

Sidney looked momentarily taken aback. “But it’s news.”

Regina’s expression darkened. “She’s the competition, you fool.”

Nearby, the townsfolk murmured amongst themselves, their hushed conversations buzzing with excitement. Mary Margaret turned to Ruby. “Did she really rescue Regina?”

Henry, standing proudly beside a firefighter, nodded vigorously. “She did! The firemen saw it!”

Ruby clapped a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “You’re a hero.”

Mary Margaret grinned. “We should see if they have a picture of the rescue.”

Granny chimed in, adjusting her glasses. “We could make campaign posters.”

Archie Hopper brightened. “Oh, people would love that! That’s a great idea. Wait, so—”

Their voices faded as the group moved away, their enthusiasm carrying them toward the remaining press members. Emma remained rooted in place, watching as Henry lingered behind. He looked up at her, his expression caught between awe and quiet realization. She crouched beside him, her voice steady. “This is how good wins. You do something good, and people see it. And then they want to help you.”

Henry hesitated, then nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

Emma smiled, brushing soot from her sleeve. “You see, Henry? We don’t have to fight dirty.”

Harry watched the scene with sharp, calculating eyes, his arms crossed as he took in every detail. Beside him, Toothless let out a low growl, ears flicking back. The black wolf's stance was tense, his fur bristling as if sensing something that didn’t belong. Harry followed his companion’s gaze, his attention snapping to a small piece of fabric half-buried in the soot near the wreckage. Frowning, he stepped forward, crouching down as he carefully picked it up. The material was rough against his fingertips, but what caught his attention was the slick, almost greasy texture. He rubbed his thumb over it, and a faint but distinct scent clung to his fingers; Lanolin.

Harry’s brows furrowed. That wasn’t a smell you’d normally associate with a fire. It was a preservative—something that could make fabric resistant to water, or in some cases, more flammable when treated a certain way. His mind pieced it together quickly. This wasn’t just an accident. Someone had planned this fire and ensured it would spread rapidly. His gaze flicked back to the scene—Emma speaking to Henry, Regina angrily shaking off the paramedics, Sidney snapping pictures like a vulture. Too many eyes, too much commotion. Now wasn’t the time to bring this to light.

He slipped the fabric into his pocket, his jaw tightening. Whoever had done this, had wanted destruction, but not complete devastation. Just enough to send a message. Toothless let out another soft growl, nudging his leg. Harry gave the wolf a reassuring pat, but his thoughts were already racing ahead. He needed to visit someone. If his suspicions were correct, there was only one person in town who knew exactly how to use lanolin like this—and he had a feeling Mr. Gold would be expecting him.

 

 

The air inside the shop was thick with the scent of aged wood, polished metal, and something faintly acrid—like burnt fabric. Behind the counter, Mr. Gold stood with an easy posture, his hands blackened with soot as he wiped them clean with a rag. His expression remained unreadable, save for the ever-present smirk that played at the corner of his lips. The door to the shop slammed shut, making the little bell above it jingle violently. Harry entered, his green eyes sharp with barely restrained frustration. Beside him, Toothless let out a low, warning chuff, his acid green eyes gaze fixed on Gold. 

Harry strode forward, his boots thudding against the wooden floor, and without a word, he tossed a small scrap of fabric onto the counter. Mr. Gold barely looked up. “Loads of visitors today,” he mused, his voice carrying that quiet amusement. “Do hope you’re not going to break my little bell.”

Harry didn’t bite. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense. “You set the fire.”

Gold continued wiping his hands, finally setting the rag aside with deliberate care. “I’ve been right here, Mr. Jones.”

Harry folded his arms. “Take a whiff. It smells like your lanolin. Turns out it’s flammable.”

Gold hummed, finally picking up the fabric between his fingers, and twirling it absently. “Oh? Are you sure? There’s some construction work going on at City Hall at the moment. Loads of flammable solvents used in construction.”

Harry didn’t flinch. “Why did you do it?”

Gold circled around his desk, his movements slow, calculated. “If I did it—if—I’d imagine it was because your boss can’t win without something big. Something like, oh, I don’t know… being the hero in a fire?”

Harry clenched his jaw, his fists twitching at his sides. “How could you even know she’d be there at the right time?”

Gold chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Regina’s not the only one with eyes and ears in this town. Or maybe… I’m just intuitive where I’m involved.”

Harry exhaled sharply. “She could’ve run. Left her there.”

Gold raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Not her type. And not yours either.”

The words stung in a way Harry refused to acknowledge. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “I can’t go along with this.”

Gold tilted his head, watching him with quiet amusement. “You just did.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough to make the words sink in. “This is just the price of an election, Mr. Jones.”

Harry glared at him. “A price Emma’s not willing to pay.” He grabbed the fabric and hurled it back onto the counter. “Find another sucker.”

Gold didn’t flinch, didn’t falter, merely watched as Harry turned on his heel, heading for the door.

“Okay,” Gold said smoothly. “Go ahead, expose me.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “But if you do… just think about what you’ll be exposing. And what Emma will be walking away from.”

Harry’s hand hovered over the door handle. He could feel Gold’s gaze digging into him, could hear the unspoken challenge beneath his words. “And,” Gold added, voice light yet deliberate, “who you might be disappointing.”

Harry’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn back. Instead, he yanked the door open and stepped outside, slamming it shut behind him. Inside, Mr. Gold merely smiled.

 

(Enchanted Forest)

By nightfall, Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin stood in the shadows outside the Duke’s castle. The air was cool, but the tension between them was thick and heavy. The flickering torch in Rumplestiltskin’s hand cast eerie, dancing shadows against the towering stone walls. With a determined glint in his eye, Rumplestiltskin crouched low and thrust the torch into a pile of dry straw. Within seconds, flames erupted, licking hungrily at the wooden joints and creeping into the castle’s cracks. The fire spread quickly, its golden tendrils slithering inside the structure, devouring the ceilings and rafters. 

Smoke billowed into the night air, and the castle’s stones glowed in the firelight. As flaming beams collapsed with deafening crashes, Rumplestiltskin slipped through the growing chaos. He entered a grand hall, where banners adorned the walls, their colors dulled by time and shadows. His sharp eyes darted around until they landed on one silver-green banner hanging at the far end of the room. He strode forward, reaching up with trembling fingers, and brushed the fabric aside. Behind it, hidden in the stone, was what he had come for; the Dark One’s dagger.

He grasped the hilt, his breath catching as the dim firelight revealed the name inscribed upon the blade; Zoso. For a moment, he stared at it, the weight of destiny pressing upon him. Then, without another second’s hesitation, he turned on his heel and fled the burning castle, the dagger clutched tightly in his grasp.

The dense woods stretched in every direction, cloaked in the eerie silence of the night. The distant glow of the burning castle flickered against the tree trunks, casting restless shadows as the flames devoured the rafters. Baelfire paced anxiously, his hands gripping his arms as he strained to catch any sign of his father. The wind whispered through the leaves, carrying with it the scent of smoke and the faint crackle of distant fire. His heart pounded. Then, at last, the underbrush rustled. A figure emerged from the darkness. "Papa!" Baelfire gasped, rushing forward, his face lighting up with relief.

Rumplestiltskin, panting from his escape, barely managed a smile before pulling his son into a tight embrace. The boy clung to him, feeling the rapid thrum of his father’s heartbeat. "I was so worried for you," Baelfire murmured. He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning over Rumplestiltskin’s form, searching for any sign of injury. "Are… Are you burned? The castle—"

"I'm fine, son. I'm fine," Rumplestiltskin reassured, brushing a hand over Baelfire’s head. His voice was steady, but his eyes darted with restless energy, his grip tightening momentarily before he gently pushed Baelfire back. "Listen to me, Bae. I need you to go home and wait for me there."

Baelfire frowned, his earlier relief twisting into concern. "Come with me—please. I have a bad feeling."

Rumplestiltskin’s expression darkened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Bae, this is something I have to do on my own," he said firmly. "Go home, son!"

Baelfire hesitated, reluctant to leave. The night felt too still, too charged with something unseen. But at his father’s insistent gaze, he nodded slowly. "Go home and wait for me, Bae. I’ll be back. You go," Rumplestiltskin repeated, softer this time.

With a final, uncertain glance, Baelfire turned and began walking away. He cast one last look over his shoulder before disappearing into the darkness. The moment his son was gone, Rumplestiltskin exhaled sharply, his hands shaking as he reached into his coat. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, its cold surface sending a shiver up his arm. He lifted it, bringing it into the flickering glow of the nearby torchlight. The name inscribed on the blade gleamed ominously. "Zoso," he whispered. His grip tightened. "Zoso! I summon thee!"

At first, silence; the trees loomed around him, their skeletal branches swaying in the wind. Then, a shadow moved. A presence, unseen at first, crept into the clearing. Rumplestiltskin lowered the dagger slightly, his breath hitching as he turned. A figure stood there. Cloaked in darkness, his hood concealing his face, the air around him seemed to ripple with unseen power.v"You were asking for me?" The voice slithered through the night, smooth yet laced with something ancient, something knowing.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed, forcing himself to stand his ground. He lifted the dagger again, stepping forward to keep the figure at bay. "Submit, oh Dark One! I control you!"

A chilling chuckle echoed from beneath the hood. "Yes, you do." The Dark One’s head tilted slightly. "Wield the power wisely."

Something about the way he spoke sent a chill down Rumplestiltskin’s spine. His grip on the dagger wavered, just for a moment. "You can wield it anytime now," Zoso continued his voice barely above a whisper. "It's almost dawn. That means it's your son's birthday. I bet Hordor and his men are already on their way to your house."

Rumplestiltskin stiffened. "No," he breathed. "They can't take him."

"You don’t control them," Zoso said, his tone almost amused. "You control me. But tell me, Rumplestiltskin, have you ever wondered… was he really your child at all? Unlike you, he’s not a coward. He yearns to fight. To die in glory."

"No..." Rumplestiltskin’s voice was hoarse, his stomach twisting.

"What a poor bargain that would be, to lay down your soul for a bastard son." The words slithered into Rumplestiltskin’s mind, curling around his doubts like a viper. "So, I ask you… what would you have me do?"

Rumplestiltskin’s breath came in ragged gasps. His entire life had been leading to this moment—the moment where he could change everything. His son, his future, his very soul teetered on the edge of this choice. His grip on the dagger steadied. His heart hardened. "Die!"

With a cry, he lunged, driving the dagger into Zoso’s chest. They collapsed onto the ground, the force of the act reverberating through the clearing. The torchlight flickered wildly, casting erratic shadows over Zoso’s form. The hood fell back, revealing a face Rumplestiltskin recognized. His breath hitched, "It’s you…" he whispered. "You’re the beggar."

Zoso’s lips curled into a weak, rasping laugh. His body convulsed slightly, his breathing ragged. "Looks like you made a deal you didn’t understand," he wheezed. "I don’t think you’ll do that again."

Rumplestiltskin’s hands trembled. "You… You told me to kill you."

"My life was such a burden." Zoso coughed, his voice weaker now. "You’ll see. Magic always comes with a price… And now… it's yours to pay."

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes widened in horror. "Why me? Why me?!"

Zoso’s lips parted in a final breath. His eyes, once brimming with ancient knowledge, dulled. Silence fell over the clearing.

"No!" Rumplestiltskin’s scream ripped through the night. "No! Stay! You have to tell me what to do! Tell me what to do!"

The dagger trembled in his grip. A strange sensation crept up his fingers—an unnatural cold seeping into his skin. His hand, the very one clutching the blade, turned grey. The color spread, shifting, transforming. Panic surged through him as he turned the dagger over in his palm. There, gleaming under the flickering firelight, was a name carved into the blade; his name, Rumplestiltskin.

(Enchanted Forest)

The Town Hall buzzed with quiet murmurs as Storybrooke’s citizens filled the seats, eager for the debate to begin. The air was thick with anticipation, the weight of the upcoming election pressing down on everyone present. Behind the stage, Sidney Glass adjusted his tie, flipping through his notes one last time. Dr. Archie Hopper paced, muttering his opening speech under his breath. "Citizens of Storybrooke. Uh—We welcome you to— Uh— Welcome, citizens of Storybrooke. Uh—Uh, we welcome you, citizens of Storybrooke. Welcome—"

Emma sat at the podium, fingers drumming absently on the wooden surface as she peered out through the curtain. Her gaze found Henry sitting in the audience, a bright grin on his face as he waved at her. She forced a smile in return, though the doubt pressing against her ribs refused to fade. Mary Margaret approached, handing her a stack of papers along with a bottle of water. Emma took them with a nod, though she barely looked at them. “I’m not going to win,” she murmured, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Mary Margaret frowned. “What are you talking about? Everyone’s been talking about what you did in the fire.”

Emma shook her head. “No, Henry’s right. I can’t beat Regina at this. Not the way she fights. Just watch and see.”

Mary Margaret studied her carefully. “Is this really about beating Regina?”

Emma hesitated before pulling back the curtain again, her eyes drawn to Henry as if on instinct. “It’s just…” she started, then sighed.

“Henry,” Mary Margaret finished for her.

Emma exhaled sharply and nodded. “I want to show him that good can actually win.”

Mary Margaret gave her a small, understanding smile. “That’s why you want to win it for him. But why do you want to win for yourself?”

Emma didn’t answer right away. Her fingers tightened around the bottle of water, nails pressing into the plastic. “That is why,” she admitted finally. “I want to show him that a hero can win. And if I’m not—if I’m not a hero, and I’m not a savior—then what part do I have in his life?” She let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Okay, there it is.”

Mary Margaret nodded. “There it is.”

Emma took another glance out at the crowd—just in time to see Mr. Gold enter the hall. Her stomach twisted, a sinking feeling settling in her chest. Before she could dwell on it, someone slipped backstage, ducking under the curtain, Harry. His usual easygoing demeanor was gone. His expression was tight, his green eyes serious as he strode toward her. Even Toothless, who had been faithfully trailing behind him all day, let out a low, uneasy huff. Emma straightened. “Harry? What are you—”

“We need to talk,” he said, voice low. “Now.”

Emma frowned. “Can it wait? I’m about to—”

“No.” His tone left no room for argument. “It can’t.”

 

Something in his expression made her pause. She exchanged a look with Mary Margaret before nodding. “Alright. What’s going on?”

Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair as if bracing himself. Then, from his pocket, he pulled out a small scrap of fabric. Emma’s heart skipped. She recognized it immediately. “The fire,” Harry said grimly. “Gold set it.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut. Emma stiffened. “What?”

Harry clenched his jaw. “I found this in the wreckage. It was soaked in lanolin. The same oil Gold uses in his shop. And when I confronted him about it?” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Didn’t even deny it.”

Emma’s mind reeled. “Why would he—” But she already knew the answer before she finished the question. Her stomach turned. “The election.”

Harry nodded. “He wanted you to be a hero.”

Emma let out a sharp breath, her fingers curling into fists. She should have known. Deep down, she had known. But she’d let herself believe—just for a moment—that maybe things weren’t as twisted as they always seemed to be in Storybrooke. She turned back to Harry. “You’re sure?”

He gave her a pointed look. “You think I’d be telling you this if I wasn’t?”

Emma stared at the scrap of fabric, her mind racing. There was no time to process, no time to break this down into something manageable. In just minutes, she’d be stepping onto that stage, standing in front of the whole town, with Mr. Gold watching from the audience—watching her. Harry must have seen the turmoil on her face because he stepped closer, his voice quieter now. “Emma, you need to know this before you go up there. Whatever Gold is playing at? It’s bigger than just this election.”

She met his gaze, searching for something—an answer, maybe. But all she found was the same quiet resolve Harry always carried. Finally, she took a deep breath. “Thanks for telling me.”

 

He nodded. “Whatever you decide to do, just be ready. Gold’s counting on you to play along.”

Emma let out one last breath, squared her shoulders, and turned back toward the stage. “Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, stepping forward.

And with that, she walked out onto the stage, ready to face the town, and ready to face the truth. Dr. Hopper stood at the podium, his voice carrying over the hushed audience. “Tragedy has brought us here, but we are faced with this decision. And now, we ask only that you listen with an open mind and please vote your conscience.” He paused, shifting slightly before continuing. “So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to the candidates—Sidney Glass and Emma Swan.” His gaze flickered between them as he gestured toward each other. “Glass,” he said, motioning to Sidney, who sat confidently on the right. “Swan,” he added, nodding toward Emma, who sat rigidly on the left. “Sounds like something a decorator would make you buy.”

Silence; not even a chuckle. Dr. Hopper cleared his throat awkwardly, adjusting his tie. “Wow. Crickets. Okay, uh… Mr. Glass—your opening statement.”

Sidney stood, smoothing down his suit before stepping up to the podium. His expression was warm and practiced, the perfect image of a man who wanted the people to believe in him. “I just want to say that if elected, I want to serve as a reflection of the best qualities of Storybrooke.” He paused, glancing out at the crowd before continuing. “Honesty.”

Emma’s eyes flicked toward Regina. From her seat, Regina mouthed the word along with him, her lips curling ever so slightly at the corners. “Neighborliness. And strength.”

Harry could see what was happening from behind the stage. He rolled his eyes knowing that Regina was helping Sidney with his speech. Sidney stepped back, offering a confident smile. “Thank you.”

 

Regina clapped, leading the applause. A few scattered cheers followed though the enthusiasm felt muted—forced, even. Dr. Hopper nodded, turning toward Emma. “And Emma Swan.”

 

Emma took a steadying breath and stood, her boots clicking against the wooden floor as she approached the podium. Her stomach churned, but she pushed it aside, gripping the edges of the podium tightly. She scanned the room, her gaze finding Henry. His expression was expectant, hopeful. He believed in her. That was enough. “You guys all know I have what they call a… troubled past,” she began, her voice steady but uncertain. “But you’ve been able to overlook it because of the, um, hero thing.” She exhaled, bracing herself for what she was about to say.

“But here’s the thing.” She swallowed. “The fire was a setup.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some people sat forward in their seats, others exchanged glances, whispers quickly growing into an audible buzz of confusion. Emma pressed on, “Mr. Gold agreed to support me in this race, but I didn’t know that meant he was going to set a fire.”

The murmurs became louder, shifting into scattered gasps and hushed accusations. Emma ignored them. “I don’t have definitive evidence, but I’m sure,” she said, her voice unwavering now. “And the worst part of all this was…” She hesitated, gripping the podium tighter. “The worst part of all this is I let you all think it was real. I can’t win that way.”

A heavy silence fell over the Town Hall, “I’m sorry.”

Mr. Gold, who had been sitting quietly in the back, slowly rose to his feet. His expression remained unreadable as he turned and strode toward the exit. Emma watched as he disappeared through the doors, not looking back. Regina, seated comfortably in the front row, allowed herself the smallest of smirks. She had won—at least for now. Emma’s shoulders sagged slightly as she stepped away from the podium. Without another word, she turned and walked off stage, heading backstage where Harry and Toothless were waiting. As soon as she slipped behind the curtain, Harry was there. “Emma—”

“I had to do it,” she interrupted, voice still tight with emotion.

Harry studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Yeah. You did.”

Toothless nudged her side with his snout, letting out a low, comforting rumble. Emma sighed, running a hand over the wolf’s fur before looking back at Harry. “Well,” she muttered, “that went about as well as expected.”

Harry chuckled dryly. “You mean a complete disaster?”

Emma huffed a laugh. “Pretty much.”

She glanced toward the curtain, toward the crowd still murmuring in confusion and shock. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. But for now, she had told the truth. And that had to count for something.

 

The air inside Granny’s Diner was thick with the scent of fresh coffee and the soft hum of conversation. Emma sat at the counter, staring into her now-empty glass, the remnants of her drink swirling at the bottom. Harry sat beside her, his arms crossed as he leaned back slightly, watching her with mild concern. Across from them, Toothless sat curled up at their feet, his large green eyes flicking between them and the rest of the diner. “Another?” Ruby asked, standing behind the counter, raising an eyebrow.

Emma sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Oh hell, yes.”

As Ruby grabbed a fresh glass, the diner door swung open with a soft chime. Emma turned her head just in time to see Henry stride in, determination set on his young face. “Hey, Henry,” Emma greeted, forcing a small smile.

Wordlessly, Henry handed her a walkie-talkie. Emma frowned, taking it in her hands. “What’s this for?”

Henry climbed onto the stool beside her. “You stood up to Mr. Gold,” he said, voice filled with admiration. “That’s pretty amazing.”

Emma scoffed lightly. “Well, he did something illegal.”

Henry leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s what heroes do. Expose stuff like that.”

Ruby returned, setting down Emma’s fresh drink with a soft clink before placing a glass of milk in front of Henry. Emma smirked, shaking her head as Henry took a sip, his expression thoughtful. “I shouldn’t have given up on Operation Cobra,” he murmured.

Harry, who had been silent up to this point, smirked slightly. “Told you, kid. Heroes don’t just stop because things get tough.”

Emma glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You getting all wise on me now?”

Harry chuckled. “Hey, I gotta make sure you don’t go quitting on me. I like my job.”

Emma rolled her eyes but before she could respond, the diner door opened again. Regina Mills walked in with Sidney Glass at her side, her expression unreadable yet carrying the usual air of superiority. Emma let out a breath, already bracing for whatever was coming. Toothless, sensing the tension, lifted his head and let out a small chuff, his ears flicking back. “I thought I might find you here,” Regina said smoothly, gaze flicking to Emma’s drink before settling on Henry. “With a drink. And my son.”

Emma turned her attention to Sidney, arching a brow. “Here to card me, officer?”

Sidney smirked. “Not at all. In fact, I think I’ll join you.”

Emma snorted, glancing toward the back of the diner. “Here? I don’t know, I think they’re setting up a back room for the victory party.”

Sidney’s smirk barely faltered. “Oh, well, you’ll have to tell me what that’s like.”

Regina, uninterested in their banter, pulled something from her pocket and set it on the counter with a deliberate motion. A familiar gleam caught Emma’s eye—the Sheriff’s badge. Emma blinked; even Harry was confused. Regina’s lips curled into an almost-smile. “Congratulations,” she said, her tone light yet taunting. “Sheriff Swan.”

Emma felt Henry stiffen beside her. “Wait. What?” he blurted, looking between Regina and the badge.

Regina clasped her hands together, feigning innocence. “There was a very close vote. But people really seem to like the idea of a sheriff brave enough to stand up to Mr. Gold.”

As if on cue, townspeople slowly began filtering into the diner, murmuring among themselves. A few cast curious glances toward Emma, some even looking… approving. Emma stared at the badge as if it might disappear. “Are you joking?”

Sidney shook his head. “She isn’t joking.”

Harry sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Regina closely. He had expected her to try something, but this… This was a different kind of power play. “You didn’t pick a great friend in Mr. Gold, Miss Swan,” Regina continued, her smirk sharp and knowing, “but he does make a superlative enemy.”

She leaned in slightly, her voice smooth as silk. “Enjoy that.”

Toothless let out a low rumble, his tail flicking slightly in irritation. Regina ignored the dragon’s reaction, simply turning on her heel and sauntering toward the door, leaving the badge glinting under the diner lights. Emma exhaled, staring at it for a long moment before shaking her head. “Well… that’s not ominous at all.”

Harry smirked. “You’re gonna have fun with this one, Sheriff.”

“Actually, I meant what I said about you being my deputy. I think Graham would be proud of you.” Emma said with sincerity.

Harry smiled and looked down at the deputy badge, “Yeah. He would.”

(Enchanted Forest)

By morning, a thick mist clung to the air as Hordor and a group of his armored knights arrived at Rumplestiltskin’s small, weathered home. The sound of hooves against the dirt road echoed through the village, but no one dared to step outside. Shutters were drawn, curtains twitched, and the fearful gazes of townsfolk remained hidden behind wooden frames. They knew what this morning meant. They knew the boy was to be taken. Hordor dismounted his horse, his polished boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. He motioned toward the door with a gloved hand, and his men wasted no time, storming inside.

A moment later, Baelfire was dragged out, struggling against their iron grips, his face a mixture of fear and defiance. "Everyone's watching from behind their curtains today," Hordor mused, a smirk playing on his lips as he turned to his men.

Before he could issue his next command, a gurgled gasp escaped from one of his soldiers. The knight, still holding the reins of Hordor’s horse, suddenly crumpled to the ground. The glint of a blade protruded from his chest—the Dark One’s dagger, slick with fresh blood. A slow, deliberate set of footsteps followed, and as the remaining knights turned, their faces drained of color. Rumplestiltskin stepped forward, his form shrouded in an eerie, shadow-like aura. His fingers curled around the hilt of the dagger, his nails darkened and sharpened, his expression unreadable—save for the hint of something sinister curling at the corners of his lips.

Hordor gasped and fell to his knees. "Dark One..." he whispered, his voice trembling.

Rumplestiltskin tilted his head, amusement flashing in his golden, reptilian-like eyes. "No… Who are you?" Hordor stammered, his breath quickening.

A slow, mocking chuckle rumbled from Rumplestiltskin’s throat. He took a measured step forward, lowering his face to meet Hordor’s wide-eyed stare. "Have you forgotten me already? What was it you used to call me again?" He clicked his tongue, feigning thoughtfulness. "Ah, yes. Spindleshanks." His eyes flickered as he leaned in closer. "Hobblefoot."

Baelfire, still held back by one of the knights, stared at his father in horror. "Papa?"

Hordor swallowed hard, realization dawning on him like a death knell. He saw the name on the dagger and it wasn’t Zoso’s name, "Rumplestiltskin…"

 

A twisted grin spread across Rumplestiltskin’s lips. "Wonderful. And now, you shall know me as the new Dark One." His voice dipped into a dangerous purr as he lifted a boot before Hordor’s bowed head. "How about a little fealty? Kiss my boot."

Hordor hesitated only a moment before he bent forward, trembling, lips parting to obey. But before he could complete the humiliating act, Rumplestiltskin’s hand shot out, gripping his throat with unnatural strength. There was a sickening snap as he twisted sharply, and Hordor’s body crumpled lifelessly to the dirt. "No, Papa!" Baelfire’s voice cracked with horror as he struggled against the knight’s grip, eyes wide and glistening with tears.

One by one, the remaining knights tried to retreat, but Rumplestiltskin turned on them with a gleeful, predatory gaze. With nothing more than a flick of his wrist, the dagger pulsed with dark energy, and the knights were cut down in rapid succession—some choked mid-scream, others fell with vacant, unseeing eyes, their bodies lifeless before they hit the ground. The silence that followed was deafening. The air smelled of blood and burnt iron. Baelfire stood frozen, staring at his father—his protector—now drenched in the very violence he once feared. His chest heaved, and his lips parted in disbelief. "Papa? What has happened to you?"

Rumplestiltskin turned to him, still gripping the dagger, its blade smeared with the crimson remnants of his victims. "You're safe, Bae," he said, his voice disturbingly calm. He stepped forward, lowering his gaze to meet Baelfire’s. "Do you feel safe, son?"

Baelfire swallowed, every instinct screaming at him to back away. "No," he whispered. "I'm frightened."

Rumplestiltskin, for the first time, smiled in full. It was not the smile of a loving father, nor one of reassurance. It was something… else. Something tainted. He lifted the dagger and turned it slowly in his fingers, marveling at it as though it were the most exquisite treasure in the world. "I'm not," he said softly. "I protected what belongs to me. And I am not scared of anything anymore."

Chapter 11: True North

(Storybrooke)

Dark Star Pharmacy buzzed with the quiet hum of fluorescent lights as Henry Mills sat near the counter, engrossed in his comic book, Wolverine vs Hulk. His fingers traced the action-packed panels while he lost himself in the world of heroes and monsters. "Whatcha reading?" a voice piped up beside him.

Henry looked up to see a girl about his age standing nearby. She had a mischievous smile and bright, curious eyes. "The Hulk versus Wolverine," Henry answered, tilting the cover toward her.

"I'm Ava. I think I've seen you around school. You're in Miss Blanchard's class, right?"

Henry nodded, feeling a little surprised by the sudden conversation. Before he could respond, a boy approached them, glancing toward the exit. "Almost ready, Ava?" the boy asked.

"This is my brother, Nicholas," Ava introduced casually.

"Hi," Nicholas greeted with a quick nod.

Henry smiled in return. "Come on, let's go," Nicholas said, glancing around the store.

Ava turned back to Henry, a friendly glint in her eyes. "You wanna come hang out?"

Henry hesitated only a moment before deciding, why not? He slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed them toward the door. Just as Nicholas reached for the handle, the pharmacy's owner, Mr. Clark, stepped forward, gripping the door and keeping it firmly shut. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Mr. Clark demanded, his tone sharp with suspicion. He sneezed into a tissue before fixing his gaze on Henry. His eyes narrowed as he pointed a finger. "Open up your bag."

Henry blinked, confused. "What?"

Mr. Clark crossed his arms. "Don't think I didn't see you rob me. Open your bag."

Henry frowned, taken aback by the accusation. "But, I didn't take anything."

Without waiting for further protest, Mr. Clark snatched the backpack from Henry's shoulder and unzipped it. As the fabric fell away, several chocolate bars tumbled onto the counter. Henry's stomach dropped. Henry turned toward Ava, realization dawning on him. "That's why you were talking to me. So your brother could put that stuff in there."

Ava and Nicholas exchanged a guilty glance but said nothing. Mr. Clark turned his glare toward them. "And you two, just who do you think you are?"

(Enchanted Forest)

Everyone knows the story of Hansel and Gretel; two orphan children wandering in the forest only to come across a gingerbread house that belonged to a witch, But what if there was more to the story? What if someone had led those two children to the witches' house? What if they weren't orphans?

Deep within the vast, whispering woods of the Enchanted Forest, a steady rhythm echoed through the trees—the sound of an axe biting into solid timber. The scent of fresh pine filled the crisp air as a woodcutter worked diligently, his powerful swings cleaving through the bark with precision. Nearby, his daughter, Gretel, stood watching, her keen eyes filled with admiration and longing. She had always wanted to help more, to prove herself useful in ways beyond the simple chores assigned to her.

The woodcutter, sensing her eagerness, finally spoke. "A fine specimen," he said, running a rough hand along the freshly cut log. "The wood it provides will keep our hearth warm this winter."

Gretel took a step forward. "Can't I have an axe?" she asked.

Her father blinked at her in mild surprise before chuckling. "You did say you wanted to help, didn't you?" He set down his axe and considered for a moment. Then, nodding, he handed her a task. "Take the cart and fill it with kindling. The drier, the better."

Gretel beamed and turned to go, calling to her younger brother. "Come on, Hansel!"

Hansel, who had been idly toying with his sling, perked up and trotted after her. Their father, however, quickly stopped them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-worn compass, placing it gently around Gretel's neck. "Take this," he said, his voice softer now. "So you don't get lost. A family always needs to be able to find one another."

Gretel clutched the compass tightly and nodded. "Yeah."

With that, the two children ventured deeper into the forest, their small figures weaving between towering trunks as golden sunlight flickered through the branches. They moved efficiently, collecting fallen branches and twigs, and piling them into the cart as the forest hummed around them with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant bird calls. Hansel, however, was easily distracted. Instead of gathering wood, he practiced with his sling, launching pebbles at tree trunks and grinning every time he hit a target. Gretel sighed, watching her brother's antics before finally snatching the sling from his grasp.

"Hey!" Hansel protested, reaching for it. "Come on, Gretel, give it back!"

"No, Hansel," she said firmly. "We need to get back to Father."

Seeing the determination in her eyes, Hansel relented with a sigh. He took hold of the cart and followed as Gretel consulted the compass, leading the way back toward their father's last known location. But when they arrived, the clearing was empty. The stump where their father had been chopping wood was abandoned, the axe embedded in its center. The surrounding trees stood silent as if holding their breath. Panic set in as the children exchanged nervous glances, their eyes darting around in search of movement. "Father?" Gretel called, her voice trembling slightly.

"Father!" Hansel echoed, stepping forward, his head swiveling in every direction.

A sudden, distant cry echoed through the trees. Their father's voice. Without hesitation, they ran toward the sound, pushing through dense underbrush until they stumbled onto a narrow road. The voice was gone, swallowed by the eerie quiet of the forest. Then, from the bend in the road, the rhythmic pounding of hooves approached. A grand black carriage emerged, its gilded edges gleaming ominously in the dimming light. Gretel barely had time to step back before the lead rider nearly trampled her. She clutched the compass, her heart hammering, only to realize with growing dread—the needle was spinning wildly, broken.

Before either child could react, armored figures descended upon them. One of the Queen's knights grasped them roughly by the arms, hauling them toward the carriage door. It swung open with an effortless grace, revealing a woman draped in darkness and power. Her deep red lips curved into a smirk as she regarded the children with an appraising stare. The Evil Queen tilted her head, eyes glinting with curiosity. "What are you doing in my forest?" she asked, her voice smooth and cold.

Hansel and Gretel stood frozen, caught in the gaze of a woman who radiated authority, her presence as suffocating as the thickest shadows of the woods. Their father was nowhere in sight, and now they were trapped—two small figures standing before one of the most feared rulers of the realm.

(Storybrooke)

Mr. Clark stood behind the counter, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glared at the two children seated on a bench near the front of the store. Regina Mills stood beside her son, her sharp gaze shifting between Henry and the store owner with growing impatience. "I'm sorry, Madam Mayor, but your son was shoplifting," Mr. Clark said firmly, his voice thick with irritation.

Regina's eyes darkened as she turned to Henry, her expression unreadable. "Were you?" she asked, her tone cool and measured.

Henry shook his head immediately, his face flushed with frustration. Mr. Clark scoffed, stepping forward and gesturing toward a small pile of goods placed neatly on the bench beside Henry's backpack. Regina eyed the assortment of candy and sighed, her lips curling in distaste. "My son doesn't eat candy," she stated matter-of-factly. "And he knows better than to steal." Without waiting for a response, she snatched up Henry's backpack, zipped it shut, and turned toward the door. "It was obviously those two," she added, nodding toward Ava and Nicholas, who sat nearby, silent and tense. "We're going."

Henry cast one last glance toward Ava and Nicholas before trailing after his mother. Just as they reached the door, it swung open, revealing Sheriff Emma Swan and her deputy, Harry Jones. Emma took one look at Henry's face and frowned. "Henry," she said, stepping inside. "What happened?"

Regina let out an exasperated sigh. "Miss Swan, must I remind you that genetics mean nothing?" she snapped. "You are not his mother, and it's all taken care of."

Emma crossed her arms, standing her ground. "I'm here because I'm the sheriff."

Regina offered a saccharine smile. "Oh, that's right. Go on, then. Do your job." She swept past Emma, shooting a pointed glance toward Ava and Nicholas. "Take care of those miscreants."

As Regina and Henry exited, Emma exchanged a glance with Harry before stepping further inside. Harry then looked over at Ava and Nicholas; he knew about Ava and Nicholas since they did the same thing to him when Graham was in charge of the Sheriff's Station. Mr. Clark huffed, shaking his head. "Did you call their parents?" Emma asked.

Mr. Clark frowned. "The number they gave me was disconnected."

Emma turned to Ava and Nicholas, her sharp gaze softening. She crouched slightly to meet their eyes. "Did you guys give Mr. Clark a fake number?"

Ava and Nicholas shook their heads quickly. Emma studied them carefully. "Then why is it disconnected?"

Ava hesitated before answering. "Because our parents couldn't pay the bill," she admitted softly.

Emma sighed, glancing at Harry, who frowned but remained quiet. She picked up a box of toothpaste from the confiscated items and turned it over in her hands. "You guys were just trying to help out, huh?" she asked.

Ava nodded slowly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Please," she whispered. "Please don't arrest us. It'll just make things worse for our parents."

Harry can understand their situation; he used to be the same, always looking out for himself. So he told Emma that he'll handle paying for the kids. He paid for their items, which surprised Mr. Clark and the kids. "Why did you help us?" Ava asked.

"Well, you two wanted to help out your family and I don't think you two should suffer," Harry stated.

Harry took Ava and Nicholas's bags of items plus the kids to Emma's car. Emma pulled the car to a stop outside a modest-looking home on the outskirts of town. The house was dimly lit, its exterior worn but well-kept. "This it?" Emma asked, turning in her seat to look at Ava.

Ava nodded quickly. In the driver's seat, Emma unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but Ava's hand shot out, stopping her. "Please, no," Ava pleaded. "If our parents see you, they'll be so embarrassed."

Emma paused, considering the girl carefully. She leaned back slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Did Henry tell you about my superpower?"

Ava shook her head. "We just met him," she admitted.

Emma exhaled, glancing at Harry before turning her attention back to the kids. "I have the ability to tell when anybody is lying," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "So tell me the truth—money problems aside, is everything okay at home?"

Ava hesitated before forcing a smile. "Yeah," she said quickly. "We're great. Can we go now?"

Emma studied her for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright."

Ava and Nicholas wasted no time, scrambling out of the car and hurrying up the porch steps. Emma started the engine again but didn't drive off right away. She watched them closely through the windshield. Beside her, Harry frowned. "You don't believe them," he murmured.

Emma shook her head. "Not for a second," she muttered.

As the two children reached the front door, they hesitated. Ava glanced back at the car, waiting. The moment Emma finally pulled away, she turned to Nicholas. "She's gone. We're good."

The two quickly stepped off the porch, darted around the side of the house, and climbed over the backyard fence. Moving with practiced ease, they slipped through a small side door, disappearing into the property's storeroom—a cramped space cluttered with old furniture and blankets. A single mattress was pushed against the wall, and a makeshift shelf held a meager collection of food. Nicholas sank onto the bed as Ava set the stolen food down on the cupboard. They barely had a moment to breathe before a creaking noise from inside the main house caught their attention, their eyes widened.

"You hear that?" Nicholas whispered.

Ava nodded. Without hesitation, they crept toward a trapdoor near the back of the storeroom and carefully lifted it, peering inside. The dim passageway led straight into the house. Swallowing their nerves, they climbed inside, their footsteps barely making a sound as they entered the darkened hallway. Just as they turned a corner, a figure loomed behind them. "Why did you guys lie to us?"

Ava and Nicholas jumped, spinning around to find Emma standing there, arms crossed. Beside her, Harry stood silently, his sharp green eyes scanning the dimly lit space. They were caught red-handed, the children froze. "Where are your parents?" Emma asked.

Ava's lower lip trembled slightly as she whispered, "We don't have any."

Harry exchanged a knowing glance with Emma, his jaw tightening. Emma exhaled, her gaze softening just a fraction. This was more than just a case of shoplifting. This was something much worse.

(Enchanted Forest)

The dense, shadowed trees loomed over the narrow dirt path as Hansel and Gretel stood before the imposing figure of the Evil Queen. The wind rustled through the branches, carrying a chill that had nothing to do with the evening air. Gretel's voice wavered as she stepped slightly in front of her brother. "Please forgive us. We didn't mean to bother you. We just... we just lost our father."

The Evil Queen tilted her head, a smirk playing on her deep red lips. "Two helpless children, lost and alone. A family torn asunder." Her tone dripped with mock sympathy, but there was something else—something unreadable in her dark eyes. She turned with a flourish of her cloak. "Such a sad and moving story." Then, her voice turned cold. "Guards—"

Before she could finish, Gretel's hand flew to her side, fingers closing around the worn leather strap of her sling. "Hansel, run!"

Hansel didn't hesitate. He turned on his heel and bolted into the trees. Gretel took aim, her heart pounding in her chest, and let a stone fly. It struck one of the guards square in the forehead, causing him to stumble back with a grunt of pain. Without waiting to see the result, she spun around and raced after her brother. The guards started to pursue, but the Evil Queen lifted a single hand. "Stop."

Hansel and Gretel ran, their breath ragged as they weaved through the trees. Branches snagged at their clothes, roots threatened to trip them, but they didn't slow down. Then, without warning, a swirl of violet smoke erupted in front of them. Hansel skidded to a stop, nearly colliding with Gretel as the dark mist coalesced into a figure. The Evil Queen emerged from the haze, her lips curling into an amused smirk. "Running from me is foolish," she said, her voice lilting with laughter. A slow, mocking giggle followed, sending a shiver down the children's spines.

Hansel grabbed Gretel's hand. "Keep running!"

But the ground beneath them trembled, and in an instant, thick, gnarled roots surged upward, ensnaring their legs like serpents. They yelped as they were wrenched off their feet, crashing to the earth. The roots tightened around them, holding them fast no matter how much they struggled. The Evil Queen strolled forward, her steps unhurried, deliberate. She gazed down at them, her expression unreadable. "Foolish," she mused. "But also... brave." She flicked her fingers, and the roots unraveled, slithering back into the soil.

Gretel hesitated before scrambling to her feet, pulling Hansel up with her. "You're... you're letting us go?" she asked cautiously.

The Queen arched a brow, her smirk deepening. "Oh, I am doing so much more than that." She stepped closer, her dark gaze gleaming. "I am going to find your father."

Hansel's breath hitched. "You are?"

"Why?" Gretel asked, her suspicion evident.

The Queen's smile widened, but it held no warmth. "Because you two are going to do something for me."

Gretel exchanged a wary glance with Hansel before looking back at the regal woman before them. "And then," Gretel pressed, voice careful, "you'll take us home?"

The Evil Queen's grin lingered, her crimson lips parting just slightly. "Of course, dear."

The way she said it, smooth as silk yet laced with something far more dangerous, made a chill run down Gretel's spine. But somewhere hiding in the trees was a little dragon called a Terrible Terror watching the whole event. The little dragon flew off to a small, little campsite deep in the woods where Hiccup and Toothless were. Hiccup learned to understand the dragon's language over the last couple of years being away from Berk. The Terrible Terror landed in front of Hiccup, "Sharp Shot, what did you find?" Hiccup asked the little dragon.

The dragon chirped what he had seen in his ear, which made Hiccup understand that the Evil Queen was up to something.

(Storybrooke)

The loft was bathed in the soft amber glow of the setting sun, its golden rays filtering through the large windows and casting elongated shadows across the wooden floor. The space, usually warm with the scent of freshly brewed tea and the faint traces of home-cooked meals, felt heavier now, thick with uncertainty and the weight of unspoken fears. Ava and Nicholas sat at the small dining table, their movements quiet, mechanical. Every scrape of a fork against a plate seemed amplified in the hush that had settled over the loft, their posture stiff with apprehension. Toothless was lying underneath Nicholas's chair, trying to catch any crumbs or pieces of food that fell off the plate.

Across the room, Emma stood with her arms folded, her usual confident stance betraying an undercurrent of hesitation. She exhaled slowly, glancing toward the man beside her. Harry stood a step away, his sharp green eyes scanning the children with something between curiosity and concern. His presence, usually one of ease and quiet humor, carried a rare stillness now. Emma's fingers tapped against her arm as she finally broke the silence. "You ever seen them before?"

Mary Margaret, seated on the couch with a cup of tea cradled between her hands, shook her head. "I've seen them around town, but I never knew..." Her voice trailed off, uncertainty clouding her features.

Emma exchanged a glance with Harry. He was still watching the children, his brow furrowed slightly. She knew that look—it was the same one he wore whenever he was trying to piece something together, trying to see the part of the picture no one else had noticed yet. She shifted her attention to the worn file in her hands, the edges creased from being thumbed through one too many times. "Ava and Nicholas Zimmer," she murmured, the names feeling oddly detached as she read them aloud. "Their mother was Dory Zimmer. She died a few years ago."

Harry's gaze lifted at that, his expression unreadable. "And their father?"

Emma exhaled through her nose. "No record."

A thick silence settled over them. Harry ran a hand through his dark auburn hair, glancing down at the children again. "So, what now?"

Emma hesitated. It was a simple question, but the answer was anything but. Toothless let out a soft huff, breaking the silence, his tail twitching slightly as if sensing the weight of the conversation. "I didn't report them to social services," Emma admitted, finally meeting Harry's gaze.

His brows lifted slightly, but he didn't look surprised. If anything, he looked like he had expected that answer. "You sure that's the right call?"

Emma's jaw tightened. "If I report them, they'll get split up and thrown into the system."

Harry's lips pressed into a thin line. "And if we don't?"

Emma exhaled, shaking her head. "Then we figure something else out."

Toothless let out a low, approving growl as if siding with Emma's decision. Ava, who had been quiet up until now, glanced hesitantly at the wolf. He turned his head slightly, watching her with an almost knowing gaze. She hesitated, then slowly extended a small hand. Toothless didn't move, only sniffed the air slightly before letting out a soft chuff, accepting the silent offering of trust. Harry watched the exchange with a faint trace of something close to amusement, though his expression remained serious. "Well, if we're doing this off the books," he murmured, "we're going to need answers fast."

Emma nodded, her mind already racing ahead. "We start with the records. You wouldn't have worked with the records?"

Harry smirked. "What do you think?"

Emma rolled her eyes. Toothless stayed with Ava and Nicholas since he liked to play with them due to the fact that he remembered them before the curse.

The hall smelled of aged parchment and dust, the air thick with the musty scent of history tucked away in neat little drawers. Dim light flickered from old lamps, casting long shadows against the towering cabinets. Harry moved with quiet purpose, his boots making barely a sound against the wooden floor. Toothless padded beside him, his ears flicking every so often as he sniffed the air. Emma followed closely behind, flipping through a stack of old files with increasing frustration. "This town has the most disorganized filing system I've ever seen," she muttered, pushing another drawer shut with more force than necessary.

Harry smirked slightly. "You're assuming they want things to be easy to find."

Emma shot him a look but didn't argue. Across the room, Mr. Krzyszkowski—known to most simply as Mr. K—sorted through a row of files with methodical precision. His hands moved with practiced ease, but when he reached for a particular folder, he suddenly stopped. Emma caught the hesitation immediately. "What?"

Mr. K turned slowly, his expression puzzled. "The birth certificates for Ava and Nicholas Zimmer..." He frowned, shaking his head. "They were here last week. Someone removed them."

Harry's entire posture stiffened. "Removed?"

Mr. K nodded, his bushy eyebrows knitting together. "There's no record of an official request. They just vanished."

Emma exchanged a look with Harry. This wasn't just a missing file—it was deliberate. Emma's grip on the files in her hands tightened. "Who else has access to these records?"

Mr. K hesitated before answering. "Only town officials... the mayor's office."

Emma's stomach dropped. Harry exhaled sharply. "Regina."

Emma instructed Harry to go back to the loft and stay with the kids until she got some answers from Regina about the files. The mayor's office was as pristine as ever—every object meticulously placed, not a speck of dust in sight. Regina Mills sat behind her imposing desk, her expression unreadable as she regarded Emma with cool indifference. "I've already contacted social services," Regina said smoothly, clasping her hands together. "These children have no one."

Emma clenched her jaw, fighting the growing frustration in her chest. "That's exactly why I'm trying to find their father."

Regina's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Well, he doesn't exist."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "He has to."

Regina sighed, tilting her head. "Biologically, yes. But legally? There's no record. Which means we have no choice but to place them in the foster system."

Emma's stomach twisted. She already knew what that meant. "Storybrooke has a foster system?"

"No," Regina admitted, her voice deceptively gentle. "But the state has connected us with two homes in Boston. One for boys. One for girls."

A sharp silence filled the office. Emma felt the ground shift beneath her, felt the weight of Ava's tearful eyes and Nicholas' quiet trust pressing on her chest. "You're separating them?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Regina sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "I don't like it either, but we have no choice. You need to have them in Boston by tonight."

Emma's blood ran cold. "Me?"

Regina arched a brow. "Well, you wanted to be sheriff. This is what sheriffs do." She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but cutting. "You take them."

Emma's jaw clenched. "I promised them they wouldn't be separated."

Regina's expression didn't waver. "Then perhaps," she said, her tone dripping with mock sympathy, "you should stop making promises you can't keep."

Emma could feel her pulse in her ears, could feel the heat of anger rising in her chest. But more than anything, she could feel the weight of Ava and Nicholas' future hanging in the balance. And she refused to let Regina decide it for them.

(Enchanted Forest)

The forest stretched dark and endless as the Evil Queen led Hansel and Gretel through the twisted trees. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something faintly sweet, like cinnamon and honey, though neither child could place it. Shadows stretched long beneath the ancient canopy, shifting with each step they took. Unseen in the distance, hidden behind the gnarled branches of an old oak, Hiccup crouched low, his sharp eyes following the Queen's every movement. Beside him, Toothless remained still, his black scales blending seamlessly into the underbrush.

Sharp Shot, the tiny Terrible Terror, perched on Hiccup's shoulder, his tail flicking anxiously. Hiccup narrowed his eyes. "What is she up to...?" he muttered under his breath.

Toothless let out a low, rumbling growl, his pupils narrowing as he kept watch. Whatever the Queen was planning, it couldn't be good. Meanwhile, on the path ahead, Gretel clutched a small, round object in her hand. The Evil Queen glanced over, curiosity flickering in her dark eyes. "What is that?"

Gretel hesitated before answering. "My father's compass." She ran her fingers over its tarnished surface. "He gave it to me so I could find him. But now it's broken."

The Queen only smiled, her expression unreadable. Hansel, growing impatient, sighed. "When are you gonna tell us where we're going?"

At this, the Queen slowed her pace, the corners of her mouth twitching as if amused. "This is close enough."

Gretel frowned. "Close enough to what?"

The Queen stopped, turning to face them. Her cloak billowed slightly as a cool breeze swept through the trees. "The home of the Blind Witch."

Hansel and Gretel exchanged an uneasy glance. "That doesn't sound good," Gretel murmured.

The Queen merely smirked. "She has something of mine, and I need you to get it back."

Gretel straightened. "What is it?"

"Something I need to defeat a very wicked and powerful enemy," the Queen answered smoothly. "It's kept in a black leather satchel inside her house."

Gretel's brow furrowed. "Then why don't you get it yourself? Why do you need us?"

The Queen let out a soft, knowing chuckle. "Because the house is protected by magic. I can't enter. But luckily, the spell doesn't work on children."

Hansel's fingers tightened around the frayed hem of his coat, unease creeping up his spine. "You'll have to wait here until nightfall," the Queen continued, "and then, once the witch is asleep, you can sneak in."

Gretel studied her carefully. "And if we do this, you promise you'll find our father?"

The Queen's dark eyes gleamed. "Oh, indeed I will."

Gretel hesitated, then nodded. Hansel, however, remained wary. "But there's one more thing," the Queen added, her voice dropping to a hushed tone.

The air around them seemed to still, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. "The witch's house is... unique," she continued. "And because of this, you must take special precautions once you're inside."

Gretel swallowed. "Like what?"

The Queen's gaze darkened. "No matter what you do, no matter how tempted you are—do not eat anything."

With that, she reached forward and pushed aside a thick, leafy branch. Beyond it, nestled in a small clearing, stood a house unlike anything Hansel and Gretel had ever seen. It was made entirely of gingerbread; the golden-brown walls were adorned with white icing, swirling in intricate patterns like lace. Sugar-painted windows glistened in the fading light, and colorful gumdrops lined the edges of the roof. A chimney puffed out the faintest trail of sweet-smelling smoke, the air around it heavy with the scent of warm caramel and baked spices. Hansel and Gretel stared, wide-eyed.

From their hiding place, Hiccup and Toothless watched in silent shock. He had heard stories of those who entered the Blind Witch's house, but never came out. Hiccup exhaled slowly, "Oh, that can't be good."

Once the Evil Queen vanished in a swirl of dark smoke, the forest fell eerily silent. The only sound was the distant rustling of leaves as the wind whistled through the twisted branches. Hansel and Gretel stood frozen, their eyes still locked on the gingerbread house before them, the sugary scent lingering in the air like an unspoken temptation. Hansel exhaled slowly. "I don't trust her."

Gretel tightened her grip on her father's compass, her jaw set. "Neither do I. But if this is what it takes to find Papa..."

A sudden rustle from the shadows made them both turn sharply. The underbrush shifted, leaves crunching beneath something—or someone—moving towards them. Then, stepping out from the darkness of the trees, a figure emerged. He was cloaked in deep brown leather, his face obscured by a carved mask that resembled the skull of a dragon. The sharp, ridged design covered his entire face, leaving only his piercing green eyes visible beneath the dim light of the forest. A hood shadowed the rest of his features, and a dark tunic and bracers lined with dragon-like scales added to his mysterious, almost otherworldly presence.

Hansel instinctively stepped in front of his sister, his fingers twitching at his sides, prepared to defend them both if needed. Then, behind the masked figure, something else appeared. A creature, unlike anything the children had ever seen, padded silently out of the darkness. Sleek and black as the night sky, the beast moved with a predator's grace, its deep green eyes glowing softly in the dim light. Its wings, folded neatly against its back, gave a slight rustle as it tilted its head to study them. Hansel and Gretel gasped, stumbling back. "A dragon," Gretel whispered in awe and fear.

Toothless let out a low, inquisitive warble, his ears twitching forward. The masked rider raised a hand, and the dragon immediately stilled, obedient yet still keenly observant. Hansel grabbed Gretel's arm. "We should run."

But before they could, the rider took a step forward and, in a smooth, deliberate motion, extended his gloved hand toward the dragon. Toothless hesitated for only a moment before slowly moving his head forward, his nostrils flaring slightly as he pressed his forehead gently into the rider's palm. A quiet, contented rumble vibrated from the dragon's throat. Hansel and Gretel watched, transfixed. The rider then turned his gaze onto them and, in a calm yet firm voice, said, "You try."

Gretel blinked, stepping back. "What?"

Hansel shook his head quickly. "No way."

The masked figure remained still, his gloved hand lowering to his side. "He won't hurt you," he assured them. His voice was steady, carrying an air of quiet authority. "You're just afraid because you don't understand him."

Toothless let out another low chuff, his large green eyes focused solely on the two children. Gretel swallowed. There was something in the way the rider spoke—something that made her hesitate. It wasn't a command, but a reassurance. He knew this creature. Trusted it. The rider extended his hand toward them this time. "Hold out your palm. Let him come to you."

Hansel and Gretel exchanged nervous glances. Once Toothless nudged his head against Hansel and Gretel's hands, the children remained frozen, feeling the warmth of his smooth scales. Gretel let out a small laugh, the fear in her eyes melting into wonder. Hansel, still a bit cautious, hesitated before stroking the dragon's head with his fingertips. "He's..." Gretel trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

"Not what you expected?" the masked rider finished for her, amusement laced in his voice.

Hansel slowly nodded. "Yeah... I thought dragons were supposed to be—"

"Toothless?" The rider smirked beneath his mask. "Terrifying? Fire-breathing nightmares?"

The dragon chuffed, seemingly offended, and flicked his ear-like spines back. Hansel chuckled nervously. "Kind of."

Gretel tilted her head, studying the masked figure. There was something familiar about his voice, though she couldn't quite place why. "You know a lot about dragons," she observed.

The rider shrugged. "You could say that." Then, after a pause, he reached up to the edge of his mask. "And since you earned his trust... I think it's fair you see who you're talking to."

Slowly, he lifted the mask from his face. Hansel and Gretel watched in silent anticipation as the carved dragon-skull mask slipped away, revealing a young man beneath. His auburn-brown hair was tousled, slightly windblown, and his face, though still holding the confidence of a warrior, had softer features than they expected. His bright green eyes, sharp and intelligent, seemed to catch every detail of their expressions. "I'm Hiccup," he introduced himself, tucking his mask under his arm. "And this," he gestured to the dragon, "is Toothless."

Gretel blinked in surprise. "You don't look like a warrior."

Hiccup chuckled. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

Hansel frowned slightly. "If you're not a warrior, then what are you?"

Hiccup smirked. "I'm a dragon rider."

Toothless let out a small warble, almost as if confirming the statement. Gretel's curiosity only grew. "You weren't afraid of us meeting him. Why?"

Hiccup leaned against Toothless's side, his expression thoughtful. "Because fear comes from not understanding something. I used to be afraid of dragons too. Then I realized... they're not what everyone says they are." His gaze shifted toward the gingerbread house, his expression darkening slightly. "Same with people like the Evil Queen. They say they'll help, but they never tell you the cost."

Hansel clenched his fists. "Then what are we supposed to do? She's our only lead to finding our father."

Hiccup studied them for a moment before nodding. "Then we do this smart. You two go in. Play along. But Toothless and I will be watching." Hiccup then pulled out a Viking horn and gave it to Hansel, "If anything goes wrong, blow into this and Toothless and I will come and save you both."

Gretel looked between Hiccup and Toothless, the feeling of uncertainty still lingering in her chest, but for the first time since stepping into this twisted forest, she didn't feel alone. Hansel exhaled and nodded. "Alright. Let's do this."

With a final glance at their unexpected allies, the siblings turned toward the glowing windows of the gingerbread house, stepping forward into the unknown. From the shadows, Hiccup slid his mask back into place. He and Toothless would be watching.

(Storybrooke)

At the Storybrooke Sheriff's Department, Emma sat at her desk, flipping through a stack of documents with growing frustration. The dim glow of her desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the clutter of case files and unfinished reports. She had been searching for any trace of Ava and Nicholas's father, but so far, every lead had turned into a dead end. Henry entered quietly, watching her work. He already knew who the children were—siblings, lost and alone, their past entwined with the fairy tales woven into Storybrooke's strange reality. Hansel and Gretel.

Their father, however, remained a mystery. According to what Henry had read in the book, the man had abandoned them, a painful echo of many stories in this town, including his own. Emma pulled another file from a drawer, scanning the pages in search of anything useful. Whoever this man was, if he had truly abandoned his children, he could be anywhere by now, possibly miles away. But Henry was certain that wasn't the case. He had come to understand the rules of this town better than most. No one left Storybrooke. No one arrived, except for Emma. She was different—special. The first stranger to step into Storybrooke, ever.

Emma barely acknowledged his presence as she remained focused on the search. If the father was still here, she would find him. That was her job. Henry, perched on the edge of her desk, watched her carefully, his thoughts shifting to something far more personal. For so long, he had been the one uncovering secrets, digging into the past of Storybrooke's residents, connecting their lives to the fairy tales in his book. But there was one mystery that had always lingered just out of reach—his own father. Emma had never spoken much about him, and Henry knew little beyond vague hints and deflections.

But now, as she worked, he saw an opportunity to ask. He had told her about her parents, helped her find her mother, and even brought them under the same roof. He had pieced together her past. Now, he wanted to know about his own. Emma hesitated, her fingers pausing over the papers before her. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, one she didn't often allow herself. The memories came back in pieces—faint images of a diner just off the interstate, a young girl fresh out of the foster system, working long hours at a job she had taken simply to get by.

A man who trained to be a firefighter, showing up at the counter during the worst shifts, always ordering coffee and pie, always complaining about the lack of pumpkin pie, yet always returning the next day. Their time together had been fleeting, moments stolen between shifts and the weight of reality pressing in. His life had taken an upward turn while hers had spiraled downward. Trouble had found her, and before she knew it, she had ended up behind bars. That was when she discovered she was pregnant.

She had tried to reach out to him, but the news came instead—he had died a hero, sacrificing himself to save a family from a burning apartment building. Henry had spent so much time believing in fairy tale heroes, but the truth was, his father had been one in the real world. Henry watched her closely, hoping for some connection to a man he had never met. Something tangible. A photograph. A keepsake. A piece of his history. But Emma had nothing. No physical reminders, no objects to pass down. Only the memory of a man who had once been part of her life, gone before he could ever know his son.

Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, Emma's eyes widened. There was something she hadn't considered before. Without another word, she stood abruptly, grabbing her coat. Henry barely had time to react before she was out the door, determination fueling her every step. Left alone in the office, Henry sat quietly, lost in thought. Even without a fairy tale to tell him the truth, he now knew one thing—his father had been a hero, and that was enough.

At the Blanchard apartment, the warm scent of freshly baked cookies filled the air as Ava and Nicholas sat at the small kitchen table, nibbling on their treats. Their cautious gazes flickered toward Harry, who stood nearby with Toothless curled at his feet. The black wolf watched the children with quiet curiosity, his piercing green eyes alert but gentle. Emma entered the room, carrying a small, worn box in her hands. The weight of its contents was more than just physical—it carried years of memories, unanswered questions, and the lingering hope of finding a missing piece of herself.

She set the box down and reached inside, pulling out a faded baby blanket. The children stopped eating, their attention drawn to the soft fabric she held. The edges were frayed from years of wear, but Emma smoothed it out carefully, her fingers brushing over the material with a quiet reverence. This blanket was all she had left from her parents—the only tangible connection to a past she had spent her life searching for. Nicholas leaned forward, curiosity flickering in his expression. Emma had spent years around kids like them—lost, abandoned, trying to hold onto whatever fragments of their past they could.

She knew that no matter how little they had, there was always something they clung to. Her words seemed to resonate with Ava. The young girl hesitated, glancing at her brother before reaching into her pocket. Slowly, she pulled out a small, well-worn compass, its surface scratched and dull with age. Their mother had kept it, claiming it once belonged to their father. It was the only thing they had left of him. Ava held it out, her fingers gripping it tightly as if second-guessing her decision. Her eyes searched Emma's, silently pleading for reassurance. If she handed over this last link to their father, would it truly help?

Would it mean she and Nicholas would get to stay together? Emma met her gaze with quiet certainty, then gently took the compass, her grip firm but understanding. She tucked her own baby blanket back into the box, nodding in appreciation. Ava's question came hesitantly, almost whispered. Had Emma found her own parents? For a moment, the room fell silent. Harry shifted slightly, watching Emma carefully. He understood that question more than most. Emma's answer was honest—she hadn't. Not yet. But she was determined to find Ava and Nicholas's father. Harry studied the compass in her hand.

Something about it felt important, more than just an old trinket. A gut feeling told him there was more to this than a simple search for a missing man. Without a word, he stepped forward, holding out his hand. Emma hesitated, then passed him the compass. If there were answers to be found, Harry would be the one to seek them out. Toothless stirred, sensing the shift in his companion's resolve. The wolf rose to his feet as Harry tucked the compass into his coat and turned toward the door. There was only one place in Storybrooke where such an object might hold the key to the past—Mr. Gold's pawnshop. And if anyone could uncover the truth behind it, it was him.

The small bell above the door chimed as Harry stepped into the dimly lit pawnshop, the scent of aged wood, dust, and polished brass filling the air. The place was cluttered, every surface crowded with forgotten relics—antique clocks ticking out of sync, delicate glass figurines collecting years of neglect, and strange artifacts whose stories had long since faded. Toothless padded in beside him, his sharp green eyes flickering warily over the shelves stacked high with trinkets and oddities. The wolf's presence was an imposing one, his silent footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor, but Harry knew better than to let his guard down in Mr. Gold's domain.

Behind the counter, Mr. Gold was carefully polishing an oil lamp, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. His expression remained unreadable, but when he finally looked up, a knowing smirk curved his lips. The way he studied Harry, his gaze sharp and assessing, made it clear that he was already intrigued by this visit. "Well, well," he mused, setting the lamp aside with practiced ease. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Jones? I must say, it's not often you come calling."

Harry didn't waste time with pleasantries. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out the old compass and placed it firmly on the counter. The worn edges and dulled crystal reflected the dim light, a relic of another time, yet its craftsmanship was undeniable. "I need information on this," Harry said, his voice steady but firm. "Got any idea where it came from?"

Mr. Gold picked up the compass, turning it in his fingers with a quiet hum of interest. His thumb traced over the details, the intricacy of its design clearly not lost on him. "You know," he mused, tilting it slightly, watching the way the dim glow of the shop lights refracted through the crystal, "despite the rather unfortunate state it's in, this is quite an unusual piece. Crystal inlay, fine craftsmanship... The person who owned this had a remarkable taste."

Harry crossed his arms, his patience already wearing thin. "And where would someone like that buy it?"

Mr. Gold finally lifted his gaze, amusement flickering behind his sharp eyes. "Why, right here, of course."

Harry exhaled sharply, unsurprised by the answer. It was never that easy with Mr. Gold. "So you recognize it?"

"Indeed," the pawnbroker said smoothly, placing the compass back onto the counter. "A piece like this is difficult to forget."

Harry leaned forward slightly, watching Mr. Gold carefully. "Do you remember who bought it?"

Mr. Gold tsked, stepping away from the counter with an air of theatrical nonchalance. "I have an excellent memory, Mr. Jones," he said, moving toward a dark wooden cabinet at the back of the shop. "But not that good." He slid open a drawer, his fingers ghosting over a collection of small index cards, each one neatly filed away like secrets waiting to be uncovered. "However..." He sifted through the records with deliberate slowness, drawing out the moment as he searched. Toothless let out a soft huff, tail flicking as if he, too, could sense the deliberate game Mr. Gold was playing.

Finally, the shopkeeper pulled out a single white card, holding it between two fingers as if it were worth more than gold itself. His expression remained unreadable as he studied it in silence, his eyes flicking over the details before he looked back up at Harry. He didn't say a word, but the meaning was clear. Harry clenched his jaw. "What's your price?"

Mr. Gold lifted his brows slightly, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement. "Forgiveness."

Harry scoffed. "How about tolerance?"

The pawnbroker chuckled, his smirk widening. "A start." With a casual flick of his wrist, he handed over the card. "The compass was purchased by a Mr. Michael Tillman."

Harry took the card, flipping it between his fingers as he absorbed the name. It was the first real lead he had, but something about the way Mr. Gold had drawn it out made him uneasy. He glanced up once more. "Anything else?"

"Just a name," Mr. Gold said, stepping back with an air of finality. "But I generally find that's all one needs."

Harry nodded once before slipping the card into his coat pocket. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door, Toothless following closely beside him. Just before stepping outside, he hesitated, glancing back at the pawnbroker, who merely offered him an amused, knowing smile. Pushing open the door, Harry stepped onto the cold pavement, exhaling as the crisp air hit his face. The weight of the compass in his pocket felt heavier now, the implications of this discovery settling in. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out his phone and dialed. The line rang once before Emma picked up, her voice sharp and direct. "What is it?" she asked.

"I found a lead on the kids' father," Harry said, his grip tightening around the compass. "His name is Michael Tillman."

There was a brief pause before Emma responded, her tone more serious now. "I'll meet you at the station."

Harry slipped the phone back into his pocket, his mind already working through the possibilities. He glanced down at Toothless, who gave a low, thoughtful rumble as if sensing the weight of the moment.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, staring down the dimly lit street. "Something tells me this is just the beginning."

With that, he turned and walked off into the night, the compass still clutched in his hand, knowing full well that answers rarely came without a price.

(Enchanted Forest)

Hansel and Gretel crouched beneath the window of the gingerbread house, their breath visible in the cool night air. The sugary scent of caramelized frosting and baked dough filled their nostrils, an enticing but dangerous temptation. Gretel, always the cautious one, tucked her compass beneath her clothes, keeping it close. Hansel, however, couldn't resist swiping a finger through a thick swirl of cream on the wall. Just as he brought it toward his mouth, Gretel grabbed his wrist, shaking her head in warning. With a silent sigh, he relented, wiping the cream onto his trousers before they quietly climbed through the window.

Inside, the dimly lit room was lined with walls of gingerbread and candy, and at the center stood a large wooden table overflowing with cakes, tarts, and candied fruit. The air was thick with the sickly sweet aroma of sugar and something else—something rotten, hidden beneath the layers of confection. Hansel leaned in close, whispering, "Can you be sure she's sleeping?"

Gretel didn't look at him, her eyes scanning the room warily. "I can't. And remember what the Queen said? Not even a lick."

Hansel turned his gaze toward the fireplace, where the Blind Witch sat slumped in a chair, her skeletal hands curled over the armrests. Her breath rasped softly in the quiet, slow and steady. "You're right," Hansel muttered, nodding toward her. "Look."

Gretel barely spared the witch a glance before pointing toward a worn satchel resting near the fireplace. "And there's the satchel." She began creeping toward it, every step careful and deliberate.

Hansel followed a few paces behind, eyeing the satchel with curiosity. "What do you think is inside it?"

"Doesn't matter," Gretel murmured, never taking her eyes off her goal. "All that matters is getting it to the Queen so she can find Father."

She slipped past the Blind Witch without a sound, fingers trembling slightly as she reached for the satchel. As she curled her hands around the strap, Hansel let his gaze drift back to the table. His stomach growled at the sight of the perfectly frosted cupcakes, each one practically begging to be tasted. Without thinking, he grabbed one, his fingers sinking into the soft pastry. Gretel froze as the Blind Witch let out a loud, guttural snore, but when she remained still, Gretel exhaled and lifted the satchel. She turned back toward Hansel—just in time to see him lifting the cupcake to his mouth.

Her eyes widened in horror as he took a bite. She lunged forward, slapping the cupcake from his hands, but it was too late. The Blind Witch stirred, her breath hitching as her eyelids fluttered open. Hansel and Gretel didn't move, didn't breathe. Then their eyes flicked toward the fireplace. Their blood ran cold. There, stacked in a careless pile, lay the gnawed and splintered remains of human bones. They bolted toward the doors, but the moment their hands grasped the handles, a surge of magic sealed them shut with a loud snap. Panicked, they pivoted to the windows, only for them to slam shut just as they neared.

A shiver crawled up Gretel's spine as a voice, raspy and dripping with hunger, echoed through the room. "I smell dinner."

Hansel and Gretel turned, their eyes locking in fright as the Blind Witch slowly rose from her chair, a wicked grin splitting her face. Hansel's hands trembled as he fumbled for the Viking horn Hiccup had given him. He raised it to his lips and blew as hard as he could. A deep, echoing note rang through the air, piercing the silence of the forest. Before he could blow again, the horn wrenched itself from his grasp, yanked away by an invisible force. The Blind Witch smirked, twirling her fingers as the horn floated toward her outstretched hand. She clutched it tightly, her hollow eyes gleaming.

"Oh, my sweet boy," she crooned. "You won't be needing that."

Hansel swallowed hard. Outside, hidden within the shadows, Hiccup and Toothless heard the horn's call—just before it was abruptly silenced. Hiccup's eyes darkened beneath his mask. "That's our cue."

With a swift motion, he mounted Toothless, the dragon's green eyes narrowing. The wind shifted, carrying the scent of sugar and something far more sinister. "Hang on, you two," Hiccup muttered as Toothless unfurled his wings. "We're coming. Toothless, get us closer,"

The dragon obeyed, diving toward the house. With expert precision, Hiccup leapt from the saddle onto the thatched rooftop, rolling into a crouch. He pressed a gloved hand against the candy-coated shingles, feeling a faint pulse of magic beneath them. Inside, Hansel and Gretel pressed against the far wall, their backs nearly touching as the Blind Witch advanced. She twirled Hansel's stolen Viking horn between her fingers, humming an eerie tune. "Oh, such a delightful surprise," she crooned. "I was only expecting two little morsels for my meal. But now—" She licked her lips. "A full feast."

Hansel clenched his fists. "You're not going to eat us!"

The Blind Witch tilted her head, her grin stretching wider. "Oh, sweetheart. You already smell delicious."

Before she could take another step, the ceiling shuddered. A loud crack split the air as something—or someone—landed hard on the roof. The Blind Witch's expression darkened. Then, with a deafening boom, the front doors blasted inward, shattered by a powerful tail swipe. Smoke and splinters filled the air, revealing a menacing silhouette standing in the doorway, Toothless. His green eyes burned in the dim light, a low growl vibrating through his chest as he prowled inside, his wings partially unfurled. His nostrils flared at the scent of decay and old magic, but his gaze remained locked on the witch.

And then, from above, Hiccup dropped down, landing lightly on the floor between the Blind Witch and the children. Hansel and Gretel stared, wide-eyed. Hiccup straightened, his masked face emotionless as he slowly reached for his sword. "Let them go," he said, his voice calm but firm.

The Blind Witch chuckled, unimpressed. "And what are you, little knight? Some kind of hero?"

Hiccup didn't answer. He simply lifted his hand. At the silent command, Toothless let out a sharp hiss, baring his fangs. The Blind Witch's expression flickered. She studied the dragon, her lips pursing. "Interesting. A Night Fury. I haven't had one of those before."

Hiccup's grip on his sword tightened. "I won't ask again."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, the Blind Witch moved. With a flick of her wrist, the broken doors slammed back into place, trapping them all inside. The walls shimmered, the very air thickening with her magic. The candy-coated house darkened, its once-sweet scent turning rancid. Hansel and Gretel gasped as something snaked up from the floor—blackened, gnarled roots that curled around their ankles. Hiccup lunged, swinging his blade, but the moment he did, the roots surged forward, wrapping around his wrists and yanking him back. Toothless roared, launching a plasma blast at the witch.

But before the fireball could reach her, it stopped in midair, held by her magic. "Tsk, tsk," the Blind Witch scolded. "Didn't anyone teach you not to play with fire?" With a wave of her hand, the purple flames reversed, hurling back toward Toothless.

The dragon barely dodged, rolling to the side as the heat scorched the floor where he'd stood. Hiccup struggled against the roots, but they only coiled tighter, pinning him against the candy-laced walls. The Blind Witch grinned, stepping forward. "Such a rare treat," she murmured, running a finger down the side of Hiccup's mask. "A dragon rider. I'll have to prepare something extra special for you."

She turned to the siblings, licking her lips. "And as for you two, I think I'll start with dessert."

Hansel and Gretel trembled, their eyes darting between the unconscious Toothless, the restrained Hiccup, and the approaching witch. The Blind Witch let out a delighted giggle. "Oh, what fun this will be."

(Storybrooke)

Emma and Harry managed to locate Michael Tillman who owned a repair shop. The rhythmic clinking of metal echoed through the automobile repair shop as Emma and Harry stepped inside, the scent of oil and rust thick in the air. Toothless padded in beside them, his keen eyes scanning the space with quiet curiosity, his ears flicking at the sound of an engine being tinkered with. Behind a car hood, Michael Tillman worked diligently, the grease on his hands evidence of a long day's labor. He barely acknowledged them at first, his focus remaining on the vehicle in front of him.

But when Emma cleared her throat, he finally turned, wiping his hands on a rag before taking the manila folder she handed him. His brow furrowed as he flipped through the documents, his eyes scanning over the names and details. A beat of silence stretched before he snapped the file shut and handed it back to her. "Not possible."

Emma didn't waver. "Actually, it is."

Michael let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. "Sorry. But Dory, she wasn't my—my..." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck before turning back to the car. "It was just once."

Emma arched a brow. "Sometimes that's all it takes."

Harry exchanged a glance with Toothless, who snorted as if unimpressed by Michael's deflection. The creature trotted closer, his piercing green eyes locking onto the man with an almost knowing look. Michael exhaled, clearly unsettled. "I met her when I was camping. And, we, um..." His jaw tensed. "No. It's not possible. I don't have twins."

Emma took a step forward, her voice measured but firm. "Yes, you do."

Michael stiffened, glancing over his shoulder at her. "You have twins that have been homeless ever since their mother passed away." Emma's words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. "Your twins have been living in an abandoned house because they don't want to be separated. And unless you step up and take responsibility, they're about to be shipped off to Boston."

Harry, arms crossed, added, "They've been surviving on scraps, Michael. And the system? It doesn't care about keeping them together. You're their best shot."

Michael turned back to his work, his movements suddenly more rigid. The wrench slipped in his grasp, and a sharp hiss of pain escaped him as the metal scraped against his hand. "Damn it," he muttered, shaking out his injured fingers. But instead of addressing what they'd said, he shook his head again. "Look, I can barely manage this garage. I can't manage two kids." He wiped his bleeding hand on a dirty rag and walked over to his worktable, his back to them. "Why are you so sure they're mine?"

Emma didn't hesitate. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the small, worn compass and held it up. "Besides the timing?" She took a step closer. "Have you ever seen this?"

Michael frowned, stepping forward and taking the object from her hand. The moment his fingers closed around it, something shifted in his expression. He turned it over, running his thumb along the edges, his face unreadable. "I lost this," he murmured.

Harry's gaze sharpened. "Twelve years and nine months ago, right?"

Michael's head snapped up, meeting Emma's gaze. She softened slightly but didn't back down. "I know it's a lot. Believe me, I know. A month ago, a kid showed up on my doorstep—the kid I gave up for adoption—asking for help with something. And now? I live here. For him."

Michael let out a quiet scoff. "I heard about that. The mayor's son." He studied her for a moment before shaking his head. "But staying in town is a lot different from taking him in."

Emma inhaled, steadying herself. "I don't have my kid because I don't have a choice." Her voice softened, but the weight of her words pressed into the silence between them. "You do."

Michael's grip on the compass tightened. "Those kids didn't ask to be brought into this world," Emma continued. "You and their mother brought them here. And now they need you. If you walk away, if you choose not to take them in, you're going to have to answer for that every day of your life. And sooner or later, when they find you—because believe me, they will find you—you're going to have to answer to them."

Michael remained silent for a long moment, his jaw working as he stared down at the compass in his palm. Then, with a quiet sigh, he placed it back into Emma's hand. "I'm really sorry," he said, his voice low and heavy. "I am."

Emma could see the conflict in his face, the weight of what she was asking settling into his bones. "But I don't know anything about being a dad." His expression darkened with something unreadable as he stepped back, shaking his head. "If it's a good home you're looking for, it's not with me." He turned and disappeared into the back room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Toothless let out a low growl, his tail flicking with irritation. Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, that went great."

Emma tightened her grip on the compass, her jaw clenching. "It's not over yet."

She turned on her heel and strode out, already formulating her next move. Harry decided to go back to the apartment loft to check on the kids. Mary Margaret sat on the couch, watching Henry, Ava, and Nicholas with a gentle smile. The three of them were huddled together on the floor, flipping through the pages of one of Henry's books, the excitement in their voices filling the space. Ava and Nicholas, despite everything they had been through, had found a moment of peace here. Their laughter was soft but real, and for once, they seemed to forget that they were alone in the world.

Nearby, Harry sat in a chair, absently stroking Toothless's fur as the wolf lay curled at his feet. Toothless's ears flicked at every sudden noise outside, ever watchful, but for now, he was content. Harry wasn't as at ease. His sharp gaze flickered between the children and Mary Margaret, sensing that this fragile moment of happiness wouldn't last. There was too much left uncertain, too many questions without answers. He knew Emma was out there, trying to do the impossible, and a knot of unease tightened in his chest. The sudden ring of Mary Margaret's phone cut through the warmth of the moment.

She hesitated, glancing at the caller ID before answering. Her voice was careful, quiet enough not to disturb the children. Across the room, Harry straightened in his seat, subtly listening in. As the conversation continued, Mary Margaret's posture shifted. What started as a routine call took on a weight that even Harry could sense without hearing Emma's words. The concern in her eyes deepened as she turned slightly away from the kids, shielding them from whatever was being said on the other end of the line.

Emma stood on the sidewalk, phone pressed to her ear, her free hand jammed into her pocket against the cold. The night air felt heavier than usual, or maybe it was just the weight of failure pressing down on her. She had tried. She had given it everything she had. But in the end, Michael Tillman had turned his back on the children who needed him the most. She didn't want to say the words, didn't want to make it real. But there was no avoiding it. The moment Mary Margaret answered, Emma forced herself to admit the truth. Michael didn't want the kids; even saying it out loud felt like a punch to the gut.

She had given Ava and Nicholas hope—false hope. And now, she had to decide what to do with it. Mary Margaret's response was gentle but knowing. Emma didn't need to explain why she hadn't told the kids yet. It was obvious. Tearing away the one thing they had been clinging to—the chance to stay together, the chance at family—felt cruel. Emma ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. Mary Margaret was right about one thing. The truth had power. It could be cathartic. But right now, all Emma could see was the pain it would cause. She thought of Henry and how she had told him his father was dead.

That, at least, was something he could accept, something final. But she hadn't told him the whole truth. His father hadn't been a hero, and she had chosen to let him believe otherwise. Some truths weren't worth telling. As she wrestled with her thoughts, she turned at the sound of footsteps approaching. Regina's voice sliced through the night, cool and calculated as always. Emma didn't need to turn to know that Regina had that same self-satisfied expression, the one she always wore when she thought she had the upper hand. The weight of expectation pressed down even harder.

The kids were supposed to be on their way to Boston tonight. That had been the plan. That had been the easy solution. But nothing about this was easy. In the silence that followed, Emma squared her shoulders, already bracing for the next fight.

(Enchanted Forest)

The cage's metal bars were cold against Hiccup's back as he sat hunched beside Hansel and Gretel. The dim glow of the oven cast flickering shadows across the room, filling the air with the thick, sickly-sweet scent of burning sugar. The Blind Witch moved about the room with eerie grace, humming a haunting tune as she gathered ingredients from her shelves, her movements deliberate and cruel. Hiccup's mind raced, assessing the situation. The cage was sturdy, the lock heavy and enchanted. Toothless lay curled up in the corner of the room, bound by thick chains that glowed faintly with dark magic.

The dragon's eyes burned with frustration as he struggled against his restraints, snarling low in his throat. He tested the chains every few moments, but whatever spell the witch had used held firm. The witch suddenly turned, dragging her fingers along the bars of the cage. "Oh, where are you?" she purred, her voice laced with twisted delight. She reached through the bars, her bony fingers grazing Hansel's arm. "Ah, yes. Nice and tender. You'll make a succulent roast."

Hansel flinched back, pressing against Gretel. "She's going to cook me," he whispered urgently. "We have to do something. Quick."

"Stay calm," Gretel whispered back, keeping her eyes on the witch. "When she opens the cage, don't fight. Just grab the keys from her pocket and toss them to me."

Hiccup nodded in agreement. "If we panic, we're done for," he added, his voice low. "Stick to the plan. Toothless and I will handle the rest once we're free."

The Blind Witch cackled as she made her way to a wooden table, pulling out a wickedly sharp knife to chop something unseen. Hiccup's hands curled into fists. He had to get them out before she turned them into her next meal. Hansel swallowed hard as the witch put down her knife and turned back toward them, a gleeful glint in her milky white eyes. "Gravy or butter?" she mused, her fingers twitching in anticipation.

The question sent a chill down Hiccup's spine. The witch reached in again, but this time, her fingers found Gretel. Without hesitation, Gretel stomped hard on Hansel's foot, making him yelp. "Oho," the witch grinned, mistaking the noise for a much larger boy. "Yes, you'll do nicely." She reached in, grabbing Gretel roughly by the arm and yanking her out of the cage.

As soon as the door swung open, Gretel's fingers moved swiftly, slipping into the witch's pocket and snagging the keys. She held them tightly as the witch dragged her toward the oven, muttering about seasoning and cooking times. Hansel barely waited for the witch to turn her back before he caught Gretel's eye. With a well-practiced flick, she tossed the keys back to Hansel. The moment the gate clicked shut behind her, Gretel's fingers dipped into the witch's pocket, slipping out the keys. Before the witch could notice, she flung them back through the bars.

Hiccup caught them; the Blind Witch dragged Gretel toward the oven, humming as she tied her wrists together with a thick, enchanted rope. Hansel's hands shook as he fumbled with the lock. "Come on, come on..."

Hiccup took the keys from him, steadying his hands. The lock clicked open. He pushed the gate wide, signaling to Toothless, who had been lying still in the corner, pretending to be unconscious. The dragon's ears twitched. He lifted his head, slowly rising as Hiccup slipped out first. Hansel hurried up the stairs, desperate to find a weapon. He spotted an old wooden cane and snatched it up. But as he turned, his foot caught the edge of the rug, sending him sprawling to the floor with a loud thump. The Blind Witch's head snapped up. "Gravy or butter?" she crooned, spinning toward him. She flung Gretel to the side and advanced. "Gravy or butter?"

Hansel scrambled to his feet, gripping the cane tightly as she loomed over him. "How should I baste you?"

But with a flick of her wrist, the cane ripped from his grasp, sent flying across the room. Hansel's back hit the wall. "Butter it is." The Blind Witch's grin stretched impossibly wide. "Time to cook."

She lunged; but before she could seize him, a roar shattered the air. Toothless tackled her from the side, his claws digging into the wooden floor as he knocked her off balance. The Blind Witch screeched, her nails scraping at the dragon's scales, but Toothless twisted, throwing her toward the oven. Hiccup rushed forward, cutting Gretel's bindings with his dagger. "Go!"

Gretel didn't hesitate. She lunged for the baking tray and, with Hansel's help, shoved the witch onto it. The Blind Witch shrieked, thrashing, but Hiccup and Gretel heaved together, pushing her toward the roaring fire. Hansel slammed the oven door shut, and Gretel locked it. The Blind Witch howled, banging against the iron. "Let me out!"

Hiccup, panting, grabbed his satchel. "Time to go."

Hansel and Gretel nodded, racing with him toward the door.

"Let me out! You come back right now!" the Blind Witch screeched behind them. "Don't leave me here! Let me out!"

They didn't look back. As the three of them and Toothless burst into the forest, the fire inside the oven blazed higher.

In the grand throne room, the Evil Queen stood before her Magic Mirror, watching the flames consume the Blind Witch's house. The witch's screams echoed through the glass. The Queen smirked. She raised her hand and conjured a fireball, hurling it directly into the mirror's surface. The flames inside the oven exploded. The Blind Witch's final, piercing shriek filled the air before it cut off entirely. The Evil Queen tilted her head, satisfied, "I would've gone with gravy."

As the first light of dawn pierced through the dense canopy of the Enchanted Forest, Hiccup, Hansel, and Gretel emerged from the remnants of the Blind Witch's gingerbread house. The air was thick with the scent of burnt sugar and charred wood, remnants of the night's harrowing events. Hiccup's gaze was stern, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "You can't trust the Evil Queen," he warned, his eyes reflecting concern. "She manipulates and deceives to serve her own ends."

Gretel clutched the black leather satchel tightly to her chest, her expression resolute. "But she promised to help us find our father," she insisted, her voice tinged with desperation. "Without her, we have no leads, no way to locate him."

Hansel nodded in agreement, his face set with determination. "She's our only hope," he added, though uncertainty flickered in his eyes.

Hiccup sighed, understanding their plight. He reached into his tunic and produced the Viking horn he had given them earlier, pressing it into Hansel's hands. "Keep this with you," he urged. "If you find yourselves in danger, don't hesitate to use it. Toothless and I will come to your aid."

Hansel accepted the horn, gripping it firmly. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "We appreciate your help, more than you know."

Gretel offered a small, grateful smile. "We'll be careful," she promised. "And we'll find our father."

Hiccup watched as the siblings turned and made their way through the forest, their figures gradually blending into the shadows of the trees. He couldn't shake the unease that settled in his chest, but he respected their resolve. Toothless nudged Hiccup's shoulder, a soft rumble emanating from his throat. "I know, bud," Hiccup murmured, placing a hand on the dragon's scaly head. "We'll keep an eye on them, just in case."

As they prepared to follow at a discreet distance, Hiccup's thoughts drifted to his own past. After being banished from Berk, he had wandered aimlessly until fate led him to the Enchanted Forest. There, he had crossed paths with Killian Jones, known to many as Captain Hook. Despite his notorious reputation, Killian had seen something in the lost Viking and had taken him in, offering guidance and a semblance of family. It was an unexpected bond, but one that had given Hiccup a new purpose.

Now, as he trailed behind Hansel and Gretel, Hiccup couldn't help but feel a protective instinct toward them. He understood the pain of losing family and the lengths one would go to reunite with loved ones. Determined to ensure their safety, he resolved to do whatever he could to help them find their father, even if it meant confronting the Evil Queen herself. With Toothless by his side, Hiccup ventured deeper into the forest, the morning sun casting dappled patterns on the forest floor, guiding them on the uncertain path ahead.

Hansel and Gretel stood before the imposing gates of the Evil Queen's dark palace, their hearts pounding in unison. The journey through the Enchanted Forest had been perilous, but their resolve to find their father had steeled them against the dangers they faced. As the massive doors creaked open, they exchanged a determined glance and stepped inside. The grand hall was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the stone walls. At its center, atop a dais, sat the Evil Queen, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. She regarded the siblings with a calculated smile as they approached, the black leather satchel clutched tightly in Gretel's hands.

"My dear children, were you successful in your task?" the Queen inquired, her voice smooth and laced with curiosity.

Gretel stepped forward, her chin held high. "Yes, Your Majesty. Though we were almost made into dinner."

A flicker of amusement crossed the Queen's face. "Oh, how barbaric." She signaled to a guard standing behind them, who promptly exited the hall. "Now, if I could have my satchel."

With a slight hesitation, Gretel handed over the satchel. The Queen's eyes gleamed with anticipation as she reached inside and produced a single, crimson apple. "Oh, you did it."

Hansel's brow furrowed in confusion. "We did all that, for an apple?"

The Queen's gaze shifted to him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Oh, trust me, dear, this is not just an apple. It's a weapon—a weapon for a particular and devious enemy. One who is still under the delusion that she's safe." She placed the apple into a small, ornate chest on her dressing table before turning back to the siblings.

Gretel's eyes narrowed with determination. "Whatever your plan is, we did what you asked. Now you have to keep your promise and help us find our father."

The Queen descended the dais, her expression softening into a semblance of sympathy. "Of course, to reunite your family so you can live happily ever after." She paused, her gaze scrutinizing. "You were left alone in the woods. You deserve better than a father who'd abandon you."

Gretel's voice wavered, but her resolve remained firm. "But he is all we have."

The Queen's eyes gleamed with a predatory kindness. "Perhaps it doesn't have to be."

Gretel exchanged a wary glance with Hansel. "What do you mean?"

The Queen's smile widened, her tone dripping with false benevolence. "You and your brother have impressed me. You aren't the first children I've sent into that sticky, sweet house. But you are the first to emerge." She paused, letting her words sink in. "As a reward, I've decided to invite the two of you to live with me, here."

Hansel's eyes widened with a mix of awe and suspicion. "You mean, we get to live in a castle?"

The Queen nodded, her smile never wavering. "Yes, you would have your own rooms, personal carriages, valets, too. All of your dreams could come true."

Gretel's expression hardened, her voice steady and resolute. "No. We want our father back. He would never abandon us." She took a step forward, her eyes blazing with defiance. "And even if he did, we would never want to live with someone as terrible as you."

A dangerous glint flashed in the Queen's eyes, her smile turning cold. "Is that so?"

Gretel stood her ground, unwavering. "Yes. We're going to find him, with or without your help. And when we do, we're going to prove you wrong."

The Queen's facade of kindness shattered, her expression twisting into one of fury. "We'll see about that."

With a swift motion, she conjured a swirling black smoke that enveloped Hansel and Gretel, its tendrils wrapping around them like serpents. The siblings struggled against the dark magic, but it was too powerful. Their vision blurred, the world around them fading into darkness as the Queen's cold laughter echoed in their ears. As consciousness slipped away, their last thoughts were of each other and the unwavering hope that they would find their father, no matter the cost.

In the dimly lit chamber of the Evil Queen's palace, the air was thick with anticipation. The Queen stood before her ornate mirror, its surface shimmering with the image of Snow White amidst a group of dwarves. A scowl twisted her features. "Now she's cavorting with dwarves? When did that happen?" she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

A guard entered, breaking her contemplation. "Your Majesty, the prisoner you requested is here."

"Bring him in," she commanded, waving her hand to dismiss the mirror's image.

The heavy doors creaked open, revealing a disheveled man being escorted by two guards. His eyes burned with desperation and anger. It was the Woodcutter. "I demand to be released," he barked, struggling against his restraints. "My children are in that forest you took me from, alone. They could be in great danger."

The Queen's lips curled into a cold smile. "Yes, I know all about your children. That compass you gave sweet little Gretel? Well, I'm afraid it didn't help her find you, now did it?"

The Woodcutter's face paled. "Tell me where they are!" He lunged forward, but the guards held him back.

"Gone," she replied nonchalantly. "I told them you abandoned them, leaving nothing but a compass to find their way." She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "But I didn't bring you here to answer your questions. You're here to answer mine."

The Woodcutter met her gaze defiantly. "I offered your children everything," she continued, her tone icy. "Whatever their hearts desired, and they still chose uncertainty because of their blind faith in you. Tell me why. Why did your children refuse me?"

"Because we're a family," he said firmly. "And families always find one another."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through the Queen's eyes before she turned away. "Release him."

The Woodcutter blinked in surprise. "You're letting me go?"

"You can all be together as a family," she said, her back to him, "as soon as you all find one another."

Hansel and Gretel found themselves lying on the forest floor, disoriented and groggy. The oppressive darkness of the Infinite Forest surrounded them, its dense canopy allowing only slivers of moonlight to penetrate. Gretel stirred first, her head throbbing as she pushed herself up, glancing around to get her bearings. "Hansel, wake up," she urged, shaking her brother's shoulder. Hansel groaned softly, blinking his eyes open. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Where are we?" he mumbled, his voice thick with confusion.

Gretel scanned their surroundings, recognizing the familiar yet foreboding trees of the Infinite Forest. "She let us go," she said, a mix of relief and suspicion in her tone.

Hansel's eyes widened as memories of the Dark Palace flooded back. "I'm scared," he admitted, his voice trembling.

Gretel reached into her pocket, fingers closing around the cool metal of their father's compass. She pulled it out, the needle pointing steadily in one direction. A determined smile tugged at her lips. "Don't be," she said, squeezing Hansel's hand reassuringly. "Everything will be fine. We have this to guide us."

Hansel nodded, drawing strength from his sister's resolve. As they stood, brushing dirt and leaves from their clothes, he glanced back into the shadows of the forest. "Do you think we'll see Hiccup again?" he asked, hope flickering in his eyes.

Gretel's expression softened at the mention of their ally. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "But if anyone can find us in this forest, it's him."

With a final, resolute nod, they set off, the compass guiding their steps as they ventured deeper into the unknown, clinging to the hope of reuniting with their father—and perhaps crossing paths with Hiccup once more.

(Storybrooke)

As the night settled over Storybrooke, the weight of the decision hung heavy in the air. Emma stood by her car, her expression unreadable as she held out the small compass to Ava. The girl hesitated before taking it back, her fingers curling around it tightly. "I'm sorry," Emma murmured. "We have to go."

Without a word, Ava and Nicholas climbed into the car. The silence between them was louder than any protest they could have made. Emma shut the door a little harder than necessary, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Nearby, Regina watched with a satisfied smirk. She placed a hand on Henry's shoulder, expecting him to follow her lead. But Henry jerked away, running straight to the driver's side window. His face was filled with desperation. "You can't take them!" he pleaded. "They can't leave Storybrooke, Emma. Something bad will happen!"

Emma met his gaze, the pain in her eyes mirroring his own. "Something bad has already happened," she said simply.

Without another word, she started the engine and drove off. Regina, still standing in place, watched them go with a knowing smile. Harry could tell that something was off; he hoped that Emma would at least try to help those kids. The drive was quiet, the tension thick in the air. Ava and Nicholas sat huddled in the back seat, their eyes darting between the road and Emma, as if searching for some kind of reassurance. But before they could get much farther, the car suddenly lurched. Emma frowned, gripping the wheel as the vehicle sputtered and rolled to a stop. "You've gotta be kidding me," she muttered.

Ava leaned forward, her voice small but worried. "What happened?"

"Engine stalled," Emma answered, already pulling out her phone.

"Who are you calling?" Nicholas asked.

"Help," she replied, stepping outside to wait.

Inside the car, Ava absentmindedly turned the compass in her hands. Her eyes widened when she noticed the needle shifting, pointing behind them. Nudging Nicholas, she gestured toward the back window. Both children turned just in time to see a pair of headlights cutting through the darkness. A car approached, rolling to a stop behind them. A familiar figure stepped out; Michael Tillman. Emma met him halfway, her expression unreadable. "Those are them?" Michael asked, his voice gruff.

Emma nodded. "Those are them."

His gaze flickered to the car, then back to Emma. "And the car?"

"It's fine," she admitted. "I just wanted you to see them. Just once."

Her voice softened as she continued, the words coming from a place she rarely let herself go. "I didn't think I could do it either. I gave up Henry because I wanted to give him his best chance. But when I saw he didn't have it... I couldn't leave. I was scared, more than I ever thought possible. But once I got to know him, once I saw him... I couldn't go back."

Michael's expression shifted, uncertainty warring with something deeper. He took a hesitant step toward the car, peering inside. Ava slowly rolled down the window, eyes wide as she met his gaze. Emma watched as realization dawned on him. "You're taking them to Boston?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

"I don't have to," Emma said.

Michael looked back at his children—really looked at them. And in that moment, his decision was made. "No," he said. "You don't have to."

As he moved closer to the car, Ava and Nicholas exchanged a glance, hope flickering in their eyes. Emma exhaled, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. She drove back to town and met up with Harry and Henry to tell them that Ava and Nicholas were with their real father. They figured that this was over now but this was far from over. The quiet night was suddenly broken by the low rumble of a motorbike approaching in the distance. Emma, Henry, and Harry turned toward the sound as the motorcycle came to a stop across the street. A lone rider, clad in dark clothing, pulled off his helmet, revealing an unfamiliar face.

He dismounted, striding toward them with a casual confidence. "Hey," he greeted.

Emma studied him cautiously. "Hey."

His gaze swept over the town before landing back on her. "This is Storybrooke, right?"

"Yeah," she confirmed.

"Any place to get a room around here?" he asked, his tone easy but unreadable.

Henry narrowed his eyes. "You're staying?"

The stranger nodded. "That's the plan. Just looking for a bed."

Emma hesitated only a second before gesturing down the road. "Granny's Bed and Breakfast is just two blocks that way."

"Thanks," he said, already turning back toward his bike.

Emma called after him. "Hey, I didn't catch your name!"

He glanced over his shoulder, smirking. "That's 'cause I didn't give it."

Without another word, he swung onto his bike, revved the engine, and sped off into the night. Emma turned to Henry and Harry, both watching the rider disappear into the distance. "I thought you said strangers don't come to Storybrooke," Emma said.

Henry, eyes wide with curiosity, swallowed hard. "They don't."

Harry exchanged a look with Toothless, the black wolf at his side. The animal's ears twitched, sensing something in the air. There was something off about this stranger—something that didn't sit right. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something bigger.

 

Chapter 12: 7:15 AM

Notes:

Sorry updates have been slow. Finals were killing me. So I'll update this book on Sunday and maybe on Monday if I can't post on Sunday.

(Storybrooke)

A soft rumble of thunder rolled over the rooftops of Storybrooke, the sky overhead cloaked in slate-gray clouds that threatened a coming downpour. The early morning light struggled to break through the thick clouds, casting an eerie dimness over the quiet neighborhood. Outside the stately white home of the mayor, the Mills residence stood in moody silence—until the low whine of a wrench and the metallic click of bolts disrupted the quiet. The Stranger, clad in dark layers that suited the stormy morning, crouched beside his motorcycle in the driveway. Tools lay scattered at his feet, and the tail end of the bike had been opened to reveal a thick, locked case mounted tightly to the rear.

Henry Mills stood on the edge of the walk, his schoolbag slung loosely over one shoulder. His gaze was sharp and inquisitive as he took in the sight before him. He had been watching the man ever since he'd arrived—people didn’t just come to Storybrooke. And this man wasn’t like anyone else he’d seen. “What are you doing here?” Henry asked, stepping closer, the gravel crunching lightly under his sneakers.

Without looking up, the man responded coolly, his focus on tightening something near the engine. “Fixing my bike.”

Henry frowned, taking another step forward. “No, I mean in Storybrooke.”

Finally, the Stranger glanced up, his expression unreadable beneath tousled dark hair. “Just visiting.”

Henry’s eyes drifted toward the mysterious case bolted to the back of the motorcycle. It looked out of place—heavy, purposeful. He nodded at it. “What’s that?”

The man followed his gaze. “A box.”

Henry wasn’t buying it. “What’s inside it?”

The Stranger straightened, resting his hands on the handlebars, as if considering how much to say. “Just something I need to do what I came here for.”

Before Henry could press further, the front door of the Mills house opened. Regina stepped out, dressed neatly for the day but clearly caught off guard. Her eyes immediately fixed on the stranger speaking with her son. She paused for a moment on the porch, then began to descend the steps toward them, concern tightening her expression. The Stranger glanced in her direction but didn’t flinch. He turned back to Henry and swung one leg over the motorcycle seat. The engine purred softly beneath him. “I thought you were just visiting,” Henry called after him.

A smirk played faintly across the man's face. “Doesn’t mean I don’t have something to do.”

Another crack of thunder echoed above as the storm clouds swirled, drawing closer. The air smelled of wet pavement and tension. “You better get to school,” the Stranger said lightly, fixing Henry with one last look. “Looks like a storm’s coming.”

With that, he pulled on his gloves and twisted the throttle. The bike rumbled louder as he rode off down the street, water already beginning to dot the pavement with scattered raindrops. Regina reached Henry’s side just as the motorcycle disappeared around the corner. She didn’t say anything for a moment, her gaze still following the stranger’s path. “Henry, who was that?” she finally asked, her voice carefully neutral.

Henry shrugged, trying to appear casual, though his mind was clearly spinning with questions. “Just a guy.”

Not far off, standing under the shelter of a large tree, Harry watched the scene quietly. His black hood was up against the threat of rain, and Toothless—his loyal black wolf companion—stood beside him, ears pricked and body tense. The wolf had taken a few instinctive steps forward when the Stranger first appeared, but stayed by Harry’s side, wary. Harry had been sensing something strange ever since the man arrived in Storybrooke. He hadn’t shared the feeling with anyone—not even Emma—but his instincts had rarely been wrong. The box on the bike. The man's vague answers. The tension in the air went beyond the brewing storm.

As the first drops of rain fell through the leaves, Harry narrowed his eyes and whispered mostly to himself, “He’s not just visiting.”

Toothless let out a low, quiet growl. The storm was coming—in more ways than one.

The smell of warm toast and fresh coffee lingered in the air as Emma Swan sat at the small kitchen table in the Blanchard loft, slowly working through her breakfast. The murmur of the television filled the room, its cheery weatherman trying to inject enthusiasm into a dreary forecast. The screen flashed Doppler radar maps filled with angry swirls of green and yellow as the weatherman’s voice projected calm urgency, warning of a heavy storm rolling down the coast. He advised Storybrooke residents to prepare for a soggy day ahead. The tranquility of the moment was shattered when Mary Margaret burst into the room, toothbrush still in her mouth, a frantic expression on her face. 

She mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste, realizing she'd overslept, before spitting into the kitchen sink and darting about the apartment in a blur of activity. Emma glanced up casually from her plate, noting the time and commenting on it without much concern. Mary Margaret didn’t slow down. Panic was already setting in as she rushed to grab her bag and coat. The science fair was that morning, and she was supposed to help the kids with their projects before school started. She couldn’t be late. Emma tried to reassure her that she still had a few minutes to spare, but Mary Margaret was already halfway out the door, muttering something about building a volcano.

The door clicked shut behind her, and silence fell over the loft again—except for the persistent drone of the weatherman and the faint rattle of rain beginning to tap against the windowpanes. Emma took another bite of toast and shook her head, amused. The bell above the door chimed softly as Mary Margaret stepped into Granny’s Diner, her pace brisk and purposeful. The morning storm had left a damp sheen on her coat, which she quickly shed as she made her way to a booth near the window. She slid into the seat and removed her hat, shaking out her hair with a touch of self-consciousness. 

Using a spoon like a makeshift mirror, she tried to smooth her appearance, brushing down flyaways as inconspicuously as possible. Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. 7:14 A.M. Right on time, the door opened again, letting in a gust of cold air and a familiar figure—David Nolan. Mary Margaret instinctively straightened up, grabbed her well-worn copy of The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne, and buried her face behind it, pretending to read. Her pulse quickened just at the sight of him. David walked up to the counter where Ruby had just placed two steaming cups of coffee.

“One cream and sugar. One black,” Ruby said with a casual smile.

“Thanks,” David replied, handing over a few bills. His gaze briefly drifted toward Mary Margaret.

She lowered her book just enough to catch him looking her way. David picked up the cups and walked toward the exit, but paused beside her table. His voice was warm, if a bit nervous. “Good morning.”

Mary Margaret looked up, managing a smile. “Morning!”

“I should go,” he said quickly, lifting the cups slightly. “I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Oh, the animal shelter, right? How’s that going?”

He chuckled. “Well, the apes haven’t taken over.”

“Yet,” she added, matching his smile.

“Not on my watch,” he joked, and with that, he turned and left.

Through the window, Mary Margaret watched as he walked up to his car, where Kathryn Nolan was waiting. He handed her a coffee, kissed her cheek, and the two exchanged quiet, familiar smiles. The sight hit Mary Margaret like a gentle ache. Moments later, Emma Swan slid into the booth across from her, eyeing the small science project setup Mary Margaret had carried in. “This is making a volcano?” Emma asked, one brow raised.

“I was—” Mary Margaret began defensively.

“I get it,” Emma cut in gently.

Mary Margaret’s shoulders dropped a bit. She cast a quick glance toward the door where David had just exited. “He comes here every morning at 7:15 A.M. to get coffee.”

“For him and his wife,” Emma reminded her pointedly.

“I know, I know, I know,” she muttered, sinking lower into her seat. “I just like to… come here to see him.”

Emma gave her a look. “So, you’re a stalker?”

Mary Margaret frowned, then sighed. “No, not really.” Emma kept looking at her. “Maybe a little bit. And it’s not like I’m following him. I just know that he spends his mornings with Kathryn, gets coffee, then drives to the animal shelter to start work at 7:30, and then he’s home around 5:00.”

“Oh, is that all?” Emma said with a smirk.

Mary Margaret nodded sheepishly. “Thursdays, they pick up Chinese for dinner.”

Emma’s expression softened with sympathy as her friend looked down at her book, clearly frustrated with herself. “I can’t get him out of my head.”

Emma gave her a knowing look, her voice low and honest. “I know. Maybe the first step is not showing up here tomorrow.”

Mary Margaret let out a weary breath, brushing her fingers against the rim of her coffee mug. “Love’s the worst. I wish there was a magic cure.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Me too.”

---

(Enchanted Forest)

The forest was quiet, wrapped in the muted hush of morning mist. Shafts of pale light filtered through the canopy above, dappling the forest floor in soft gold. Birds chirped warily from their perches, and a chill breeze stirred the leaves, whispering through the trees like secrets on the wind. Snow White stood motionless beneath a gnarled oak, her breath low and controlled. A wooden spear was balanced in her hand, tip aimed toward a plump wild turkey pecking near a patch of moss. Her muscles coiled in preparation to strike, eyes narrowing— But in an instant, the turkey startled and took to the air with a burst of feathers, flapping madly into the thicket.

Snow whirled in frustration, spear still raised, only to pause as a familiar figure stepped into view through the underbrush. “Hey! It’s me,” said Red Riding Hood with a casual grin, her signature red cloak draped over one shoulder and a woven basket hanging from her arm.

Snow exhaled sharply and relaxed her grip. “Red,” she said, lowering the spear.

“The spear, Snow,” Red added pointedly.

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Snow replied, a little sheepishly, tossing the spear down beside her. “I wasn’t expecting you for another week.”

“It’s been a month,” Red said as she stepped forward.

Snow blinked. “Has it?”

Red raised an eyebrow. “You’re really taking well to the solitude, aren’t ya?”

“It’s fine,” Snow insisted, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she crouched to inspect the contents of the basket. “It’s exactly what I wanted. To be out here. Alone. Away.”

“And that you are,” Red replied, handing her the basket. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Snow murmured, taking the gift gratefully. Inside were fresh apples, small parcels of bread and cheese, and a jar of wild honey. “So… how are things back in the world?”

Red tilted her head, knowingly. “Come on. Ask what you really want to know.”

Snow hesitated, holding the basket close. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Red gave her a look—one that Snow had known since the day they met. The kind that saw straight through any excuse or deflection. Snow sighed. “Okay, fine. Tell me.”

Red took a breath and stepped a little closer. “The wedding’s happening,” she said softly. “Prince James is marrying King Midas’ daughter. In two days’ time.”

The words landed like a blow. Snow’s lips parted, but she said nothing at first. Her eyes dropped to the forest floor, searching the soil for answers or maybe just the strength not to cry. “You okay?” Red asked gently.

“I just thought,” Snow began, voice brittle, “the longer I was out here, the easier it would be to forget him. But… instead, all I do is think about him.”

Red’s expression softened with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Snow clenched her jaw, trying to shake the sadness away. “I wish there was a way to get him out of my head.”

Red hesitated, her face shifting slightly—too quickly for Snow not to notice. “What?” Snow asked, narrowing her eyes. “Is there?”

“Of course not,” Red said hastily. “I mean, that would—”

“Red,” Snow pressed, stepping forward, her voice rising. “What do you know?” Red glanced away, then back at her. There was a beat of silence between them—thick, tense, heavy with history and unspoken trust. “Come on,” Snow said. “I helped you when no one else would. What do you know?”

Red sighed, clearly reluctant. “Well… there are whispers. Whispers of a man who can achieve even the most unholy of requests. A man who can… do what you’re asking.”

Snow’s breath hitched. “Who is this man?”

The forest seemed to be quiet, as if holding its breath in anticipation. Red leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “His name is Rumpelstiltskin.”

Snow nodded once, determined. “Then I’ll find him.”

She set the basket down, grabbed her pack, and slung her bow over her shoulder. Without another word, she disappeared into the woods, boots crunching against damp leaves, the mist quickly swallowing her figure. Silence fell again in the clearing… but only briefly. A rustle in the trees above; Red didn’t flinch. High among the branches, a dark shape descended with the grace of a shadow. A young man dropped from the treetops, landing with a soft thud on the mossy earth. Cloaked in weather-worn armor with a half-mask covering the lower half of his face, the figure moved with a quiet confidence. 

Perched above him, tucked among the shadows, a black-scaled dragon shifted — its eyes glowing faintly like twin lanterns in the dim light. Red turned to him, arms crossed, unsurprised. “You could’ve said something earlier,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

Hiccup‘s green eyes flicked in the direction Snow White had gone, thoughtful and conflicted. “She’s hurting,” he said quietly, his voice muffled behind the half-mask. “More than she lets on.”

“She’s in love,” Red replied. “That kind of hurt doesn’t fade in the woods. You know that better than anyone.”

Hiccup nodded slightly, gaze still fixed on the trail Snow had taken. Toothless crept down from the trees and stood beside him, nuzzling his shoulder with a low, curious growl. “She’s going to see him,” Red continued. “Rumpelstiltskin. You know what that means.”

“I do,” Hiccup said, finally meeting her eyes. “And I’ll follow her.”

“To help?”

“To watch,” he said simply. “That kind of magic always has a price. She won’t pay it alone.”

Red tilted her head. “You care about her.”

“I care about people,” he said, just a touch too quickly. “That’s what we’re meant to do, right? Keep the balance?”

Red smirked. “You mean you keep the balance, Dragon Rider?”

Hiccup tensed but didn’t answer. His identity — the truth behind the mask — was still his to keep. Even Red didn’t know he was the boy once raised as a royal, now exiled and reborn as something else entirely. He reached up, adjusting his mask back over his face. “Be careful,” Red said softly, watching as Toothless leaned down and allowed Hiccup to mount. 

He nodded once, then nudged the reins. Toothless leapt into the air with a thunderous beat of wings, vanishing into the clouds overhead like a shadow fading into the storm.

Night had fallen over the lake, cloaking the water in mist and shadow. The moon’s pale glow barely cut through the fog, illuminating the rippling surface as Snow White glided silently across it in a small, creaking rowboat. Her hands, firm and steady, worked the oars with practiced rhythm, guiding the vessel toward a weathered dock jutting out from the darkness. She stepped onto the dock, boots thudding softly against the damp wood, and began to moor the boat. Then — a voice, dry and sharp as rusted iron. “How much for this?”

She startled, turning quickly. There he sat, already inside the boat, as if he had always been there. Legs crossed, a crooked smile playing on his lips, and his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Excuse me?” she asked, voice wary.

“Your boat,” he replied cheerfully, running a hand along its side. “Exquisite craftsmanship.”

“It’s not for sale,” Snow said firmly.

“But of course it is, dearie,” he chuckled. “No one rows to see me unless they’ve come to make a deal.”

So this was him; the imp, the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin. He stepped out of the boat with theatrical flair and glided toward her, his movements unnatural — too smooth, too fluid. His clothes hung oddly from his spindly frame, and his gold-flecked skin glistened in the moonlight like tarnished brass. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” he said, peering into her eyes. “Ah...” His claw-like hand reached up to her cheek, brushing it with a cold finger. “You really are the fairest of them all, aren’t you?”

Snow White tensed but didn’t recoil. “I need a cure,” she said plainly.

Rumplestiltskin blinked slowly. “And what ails you, doll?”

“A broken heart.”

At this, his expression twisted into something both gleeful and sympathetic. “Ah, the most painful of afflictions. But if you’re hoping I’ll make him love you… I’m afraid not. Even I can’t force the heart.”

“That’s not the problem,” she said. “We can’t be together. I want to stop feeling this way.”

He studied her, then grinned. “Well. That I can help with.”

With a flick of his hand, he produced a tiny glass vial. Crouching beside the lake, he scooped a bit of water into it. At once, the clear liquid turned cloudy, swirling like milk in a storm. Snow stepped closer, staring at the bottle. “That’ll do it?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he replied. “No two loves are exactly alike. We must make this—” he snapped his fingers “—personal.”

Before she could react, his hand darted forward and plucked a few strands of hair from her head. She flinched. He chuckled, delighted, as he dropped the hair into the vial. The mixture shimmered, shifting from clouded white to a silver hue tinged with pale blue. “So,” she asked, watching him carefully, “if I drink that… I’ll no longer love him?”

“The next time you see the object of your grief,” Rumplestiltskin said, swirling the potion gently, “you won’t even remember who he is.”

Her breath caught. “I won’t remember him at all?”

“Love,” he said, stepping closer, “is the most powerful magic of all. So the cure must be... extreme.”

Snow looked down at the potion, then back at the water, disturbed only by the lapping of the misty waves. Somewhere far away, a night bird cried. “‘Extreme’ sounds like an understatement,” she muttered.

He leaned forward, voice lowered like a confidant sharing a secret. “Don’t doubt yourself now, dearie. Love makes us sick, haunts our dreams, and destroys our days. Love has killed more than any disease. This cure? It’s a gift.”

She hesitated. “What’s your price?”

Rumplestiltskin held up the strands of her hair with a sly smile. “These’ll do.”

Suspicion darkened her gaze. “What do you need my hair for?”

He shrugged. “What do you need it for now? It’s been plucked from your head.” She didn’t reply. “Do we have a deal?” he asked.

Snow White stared at the potion one last time… and took it. “Ohh,” he said, his grin stretching wider as he turned. “I thought so. Drink it in good health… Snow White.”

Her eyes widened. He hadn’t been told her name. But he was already walking away, vanishing into the mist like a ghost, his laughter curling through the trees. Snow stood alone on the dock, the vial in her hand, the lake silent once again. But above, Hiccup had been watching the whole thing. He was concerned for Snow White; if she took that vial, then she would forget about the prince. He could tell from day one when the three of them met, Snow and James had feelings for each other at first sight. Now it was his turn to return the favor. “Come on, bud. We need to warn the prince.”

Hiccup whistled, then a terrible terror flew over to him and landed on his shoulder. He quickly wrote a letter to the prince, then tied the letter on the little dragon's leg. “Find Prince James,” he whispered, then the little dragon flew off.

Dawn was just beginning to kiss the sky beyond the castle towers as Prince Charming stood at the edge of a stone balcony. The wind was brisk, carrying the scent of wet earth and stormy skies. Below him, the courtyard bustled with early preparations—the grand feast, the wedding in two days’ time. But his heart was far from the pageantry. Behind him, the heavy door creaked open. “James.”

He turned slightly as King George entered, carrying a small wooden box. His face was stony with expectation. “How goes the feast?” James asked, without warmth.

“Your absence is felt. It is, after all, in your honor.” George stepped forward and opened the box, revealing a golden crown, intricately designed, the gemstones catching the dim light. “I thought this might rouse you from your chamber.”

James barely glanced at it. “You could feed the kingdom for an entire winter with that crown.”

“It’s a gift from King Midas,” George said, ignoring the sarcasm. “For you to wear as you marry his daughter. Once that is done, our new prosperity will allow us to feed the kingdom for all winters. Show some enthusiasm.”

“Enthusiasm wasn’t part of the deal.” James’s voice was low. “The wedding’s in two days. I’ve honored your deal.”

“I want your heart, not just your honor,” George snapped.

James turned away, grip tightening on the balcony edge. “My heart shall belong to Abigail.”

“You think I’m a fool?” George barked. “Your heart can’t belong to Abigail when it’s held by another woman. Don’t deny it. I know that look. Who is she?”

“I met her on a journey,” James admitted, gaze distant. “We haven’t seen each other since, but… she’s stayed with me.”

“Forget her.”

“You speak as if that’s so easy.”

George stepped closer, voice icy. “Nobility was never meant to be easy. All this wealth, the power we hold over other men’s lives—do you think that comes at no cost?”

“I asked for none of it,” James shot back. “You chose me. Pulled me from the dirt because your son was gone. This was the only way to save your kingdom, not an act of charity.”

“Watch yourself, boy,” George hissed. “This is the path you accepted. The role you chose. You will honor it. Do whatever it takes to get that woman out of your head… because nothing is going to stop this wedding.”

With that, King George turned on his heel and strode out, the door slamming behind him. James stood still for a moment, chest rising with shallow breaths. Then, abruptly, he moved to his desk, hands trembling as he reached for a quill. He sealed the letter and walked to the open window, releasing a white dove into the wind. “Find her,” he whispered.

He sealed the letter and walked to the open window, releasing a white dove into the wind. “Find her,” he whispered.

As the dove soared into the clouds, a blur of green and bronze zipped just past it, the Terrible Terror, diving toward the balcony with precision. James caught sight of it and held out his arm, landed, chirping urgently. “What’s this…?”

He untied the note and quickly read Hiccup’s message. His face changed immediately—eyes widening, heart racing. “She’s going to forget…”

Quickly, he pulled out another scrap of parchment and scribbled a new message: “Keep watching her. If she drinks that potion, I need to know. But if there’s still a chance—stall her. I’ll come myself.”

He tied the new message to the dragon’s leg. “Back to the Rider,” he instructed firmly.

The little terrible terror gave a tiny salute with his wing and launched off again into the clouds. James didn’t wait. He turned toward the door with purpose burning in his chest. He wasn’t going to lose her—not without a fight.

---

(Storybrooke)

The wind howled faintly through the small town of Storybrooke, leaves swirling past storefronts as the coming storm loomed heavier by the hour. Inside Dark Star Pharmacy, the lights buzzed softly, illuminating near-empty shelves and worried faces. Mary Margaret navigated the aisles, her basket half-filled with tea, soup, and storm essentials. Just behind her, Harry Jones entered with Toothless, his black-coated service dog. The dragon-like canine padded obediently at Harry’s side, his yellow eyes sweeping the surroundings. Harry stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets as he walked beside her. 

“You sure you don’t want help carrying all this through the wind?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Mary Margaret replied with a soft smile. “I’ve lived through worse.”

Toothless huffed at her, as if unconvinced. Just then—WHAM. Mary Margaret rounded a corner and slammed into someone else. Supplies were scattered across the linoleum. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, immediately crouching. 

Harry winced and stepped forward to help. Mary Margaret’s voice faltered when she saw who she’d hit—Kathryn Nolan, flanked by Regina Mills. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Kathryn said, bending down to gather her items.

Harry crouched beside Mary Margaret, helping retrieve cans and medicine boxes. As he handed Kathryn her dropped items, he glanced warily at Regina.  Then Mary Margaret reached for something else—a pregnancy test. She froze, expression flickering with surprise. Wordlessly, she handed it over. “Good luck,” she said softly.

“Thank you,” Kathryn replied before walking away.

Regina remained. “I trust you’ll be discreet,” Regina said coolly.

Mary Margaret blinked. “What?”

“Their lives are their business. Not yours.” Regina gave Harry a passing glance before walking off with her usual regal stride.

Harry raised a brow. “Friendly,” he muttered, then looked at Mary Margaret. “You okay?”

“I will be,” she said with a sigh, rising. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Wind whipped through the trees as the storm gathered overhead. Mary Margaret walked briskly along a winding path, clutching her bag. Harry and Toothless followed beside her, the dog sniffing the air. “Regina doesn’t pull punches, does she?” Harry said.

“She’s just... complicated,” Mary Margaret murmured. “That’s one word for it, anyway.”

Suddenly, a soft cooing reached their ears. Mary Margaret stopped. “Do you hear that?”

Toothless tilted his head and trotted ahead toward the sound. They followed the dog down a small embankment, nestled beneath an overhanging branch, a white dove struggled, tangled in discarded netting. “Oh no,” Mary Margaret gasped, immediately descending the slope. “Hey... It’s okay.”

Harry followed close behind. “Looks like it’s stuck. Poor thing.”

Mary Margaret gently scooped the bird up into her hands. “How did you manage to get yourself into this?”

Harry knelt beside her, examining the net. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small penknife. “You carry that with you?” she asked.

“Always. Never know when you need to rescue a bird,” he said with a smirk. “Hold him steady.”

Carefully, Harry sliced through the netting. The dove fluttered but didn’t resist. “There,” he said softly, brushing the net aside. “You’re free.”

The bird nestled into Mary Margaret’s hands, weak but safe. “Poor girl’s exhausted,” she murmured. “She’s probably been out here in the wind for hours.”

Harry nodded, thoughtful. “We should take him to the animal shelter. They’ll know what to do.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said, relieved.

As they carefully climbed back up the slope together, Toothless trailing behind them, the first drops of rain began to fall. Mary Margaret glanced at Harry. “Thank you for helping. For being here.”

He gave her a small smile. “Anytime.”

They walked side-by-side down the road toward town. The storm warning crackled over the radio as rain began to pelt Storybrooke’s sidewalks with a steady rhythm. The Storybrooke Pet Shelter, tucked behind a chain-link fence near the forest line, buzzed with quiet urgency as staff rushed to secure the animals before the worst of the storm arrived. Inside, a small examination room was brightly lit, its walls lined with kennels and medical posters. Mary Margaret stood near a table, nervously watching as Dr. Thatcher, the head vet, gently examined the rescued North Atlantic dove.

Next to her stood David Nolan, still in his animal shelter uniform—a khaki shirt, name tag slightly askew, and an old flannel tied around his waist from morning chores. Across the room, Harry Jones leaned against a counter while Toothless sat calmly at his feet. Dr. Thatcher straightened up with a reassuring smile. “Well, the good news is—no broken bones. Just a little dehydration. I gave her some fluids, and she should be just fine.”

Mary Margaret exhaled in relief. “And the bad news?”

The doctor hesitated. “She’s a North Atlantic dove—a migratory species. Very rare around these parts. They’re... well, they’re extremely social. They form lifelong monogamous bonds. If you don’t get her back to her flock...”

“She’ll be alone,” Mary Margaret finished, her heart sinking.

Dr. Thatcher nodded solemnly. “She’ll heal, yes. But she won’t thrive. Not in a cage.” He gently placed the dove into a small travel cage and latched the door. “It’s a long shot... but I figured you’d want the truth.”

Mary Margaret stepped forward and took the handle of the cage carefully, as if the little bird inside were made of porcelain. “I’ll take my chances. Thank you, doctor.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a kind nod before stepping out of the room, clipboard in hand.

David turned to her. “Mary Margaret, there’s a storm coming. It’s not safe to be out there.”

Mary Margaret met his gaze, her voice soft but firm. “The storm is coming tomorrow, and if I wait that long, she might be lost forever. Completely alone. No one deserves that.”

David’s brow furrowed, concern flashing across his face. “Then let me drive you.”

“I don’t need your help, David,” she replied quickly, more sharply than she intended. “I’ll be fine.”

She turned and walked out, clutching the cage close to her chest. The door swung closed behind her, leaving silence in her wake. Harry finally pushed off the counter. “She’s not going to be fine,” he said, watching the door. “Not alone, not in that storm.”

David glanced at him. “You know her?”

“I know she’s hurting,” Harry said quietly. “And I know that dove isn’t the only one who needs to find its way home.”

David looked toward the door, conflicted. “She said no.”

“She didn’t mean it,” Harry replied. “And you know it.”

David hesitated a moment longer, then grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. “Come on.”

Harry whistled low, and Toothless was immediately at his heels. Outside, the wind picked up as the three of them stepped into the storm-lit street—two men and a loyal black dog, setting off to follow a woman determined to save a bird... and maybe, without even realizing it, herself.

---

(Enchanted Forest)

Snow White emerged from the mist, her boots crunching through damp leaves as she walked along the wooded path near the lake. The faint light of dawn filtered through the trees, glinting off the small vial clutched tightly in her hand—the memory-erasing potion. She paused near a tree stump, staring at the liquid swirling within. Her fingers trembled. Suddenly, a rustle behind her. She whipped around, eyes sharp, spear raised once again with swift precision. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—easy!” a familiar voice exclaimed from the trees.

Hiccup stepped into view, hands held high, his hood pushed back, but his mask still on his face. Toothless slinked behind him, growling low with protective warning.

“Oh. It’s you. That Dragon Rider.” Snow gasped, startled but still holding her weapon steady. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying not to get impaled,” he replied, offering a half-smile. “Seriously, you’ve got good aim. You almost skewered me.”

Snow White lowered the spear, exhaling slowly. “You shouldn't sneak up on people.”

“And you shouldn’t be sneaking off to make deals with Rumplestiltskin,” Hiccup said, voice shifting from light to firm. “What are you doing, Snow?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You followed me?”

“To stop you from making a huge mistake,” he countered. “I saw you. I saw what he gave you.”

Her hand unconsciously curled around the vial. “It’s my choice.”

Hiccup stepped closer, voice softer. “It doesn’t have to be. You’re not thinking clearly. You’re hurt, but erasing your memories? That’s not the answer.”

“What would you know?” she asked, voice cracking just slightly. “You don’t know what it’s like to think about someone every single day and know they’re about to marry someone else.”

Hiccup’s expression faltered. “Maybe not in the same way. But I know what it’s like to feel powerless. To want to run from pain instead of face it.”

Snow turned away, clutching the potion, her breath shaky. “I thought if I forgot him,” she whispered, “maybe the pain would go away. Maybe I could move on.”

“Or maybe you’d lose the best thing that ever happened to you,” Hiccup replied gently.

There was a long silence between them, broken only by the wind rustling through the trees. Toothless whined softly beside them, as if sensing the gravity in the air. Then, suddenly, a faint flutter overhead. A pure white dove descended from the sky and landed gracefully on Snow’s outstretched arm. She blinked in surprise, carefully balancing the vial in her other hand. The bird cooed softly and extended one leg, revealing a tiny scroll tied with a red thread. “A message?” Snow murmured, gently untying it as the dove took flight once more, disappearing into the sky.

She slowly unrolled the paper and began to read.

Dearest Snow,

I've not heard from you since our meeting, and can only assume you've found the happiness you so desired. But I must let you know that not a day goes by when I haven't thought of you. In two days’ time, I’m to be married. Come to me before then. Come to me and show me you feel the same, and we can be together forever. And if you don’t, I’ll have my answer.

As the prince’s voice echoed through her mind, Snow’s eyes shimmered. Her breath hitched, and her hand tightened around the note. The vial remained in her other hand, forgotten, trembling. Hiccup stood silently nearby, watching her. She didn’t say a word. But for the first time in weeks… Hope flickered behind her eyes.

---

(Storybrooke)

The forest road twisted ahead like a snake in the storm. Branches littered the path, water streamed through the muddy ditches, and thunder rolled overhead with unsettling regularity. Trees groaned as wind pulled at their limbs, and lightning momentarily illuminated the drenched silhouettes pressing forward through the deluge. Mary Margaret clutched the birdcage close, her knuckles white from gripping the handle. David was at her side, his hand at her back, shielding her from the worst of the wind. Beside them, Harry Jones kept ahead, his dark coat slick with rain, soaked hair clinging to his face. Toothless, who was getting drenched, followed.

“There!” David shouted over the wind, pointing through the heavy rainfall.

Through the downpour, a rustic wooden cabin emerged like a vision—a shelter tucked beneath the trees, half-lost in shadow. Smoke didn’t rise from its chimney. The windows were dark. But to them, it looked like salvation. Harry didn’t hesitate. He sprinted the last few steps and began unlocking the door. Toothless stood guard beside him, wings folding tightly to avoid the lashing rain. “Hurry!” Harry called. “It’ll let up soon, but not yet!”

The door groaned open; they all rushed inside. The cabin interior was dim but dry. Dust lingered in the air, long undisturbed. The hearth stood cold, but stacks of firewood were piled neatly by the stone fireplace. Harry shut the door behind them and dropped the crossbeam into place. Toothless gave a huff, shook out his wings, and curled up near the hearth. David wasted no time kneeling at the fireplace, stacking logs and kindling. “Let’s warm this place up.”

A few minutes later, firelight flickered across the log walls, casting long shadows and drawing the chill from the air. David sighed and turned to Mary Margaret, who still stood clutching the birdcage like it was the last thing anchoring her to herself. “Okay,” David said, his voice softer now. “Let’s get you dry.”

Harry passed him a folded blanket from a cedar chest near the wall. “There should be tea in the tin above the stove. You’re welcome to whatever’s here.”

“Thanks,” David nodded. He gently approached Mary Margaret and draped the blanket over her shoulders.

She flinched and shook him off. Toothless lifted his head, sensing the tension. “Thanks for letting us in. I thought you didn’t use this place anymore,” she said to Harry. “Not since you moved in with me and Emma.”

“I don’t,” Harry replied. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “But it’s here when I need it. Sometimes… you don’t know you’ll need a place until the storm hits.”

Toothless rumbled softly and padded over to nudge Mary Margaret’s arm. She smiled faintly and scratched his snout. David, grabbing a mug from the shelf, glanced between them. “Well, you’re living with the Sheriff, so I doubt she’ll arrest us for breaking and entering.” He offered the mug to Mary Margaret and returned with the blanket. “Here.”

She accepted neither this time. “What’s going on with you today?” David asked gently.

Mary Margaret stared into the flames. “What’s going on,” she echoed, “is that I still have feelings for you.”

David froze midstep. “Why do you think I go to Granny’s every morning at 7:15?” she asked, her voice shaking. “It’s to see you. It’s pathetic, I know. Because all it does is remind me that you chose Kathryn. That’s why I didn’t want you to come to the woods with me. Being near you is too painful.”

She turned away, hiding tears as Harry quietly stepped back toward Toothless, giving them space but listening carefully. David exhaled in disbelief. “You think this is funny?” she snapped suddenly.

“No,” he replied quickly. “It’s just… the reason I go to Granny’s every morning at 7:15 is to see you.”

Mary Margaret looked up at him, stunned. Toothless let out a quiet, almost knowing chirp. They stood there, locked in silence, until David took a step forward, heart pounding. Slowly, he leaned in. Mary Margaret stepped back. “How can you do this?” she whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

“I know, David,” she said softly. “About Kathryn. She thinks she’s pregnant.”

He reeled back. “What?”

“You didn’t know,” she realized, the guilt washing over her face.

David shook his head slowly. “No. We haven’t even… not in weeks.”

She nodded, her voice brittle. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just… It’s all too much.”

David reached for her, but the sound of rain changing tempo outside caught her ear. She turned quickly to the window. “The rain’s stopped.”

She crossed the room, scooping up the birdcage. Toothless followed her to the door, watching quietly. “Mary Margaret, wait—”

“No. I need to do this. She belongs with her flock,” she stated, then she ran out the door. David and Harry chased after her.

---

(Enchanted Forest)

Night had fallen on the royal castle, casting shadows like silent sentinels across the ancient stone walls. A gentle breeze stirred the flags atop the parapets as Snow White emerged from the woods. Cloaked in a deep, hooded robe and carrying a large basket of yellow flowers, she moved with purpose toward the castle gates. Somewhere outside the forest edge, Hiccup remained hidden, a silent guardian among the trees. Toothless lay crouched beside him, tail twitching, glowing green eyes trained on the castle like a watchful panther. Snow White kept her head down, face obscured beneath the hood. Every movement was precise, rehearsed. 

She blended into the early bustle of servants and guards, just another shadow in the swirl of preparations for the royal wedding. A castle steward approached, irritation heavy in his stride. Snow White slowed, lowering her voice and bowing her head slightly. “Flowers for Prince James, from the Kingdom of Midas,” she said, offering the basket.

The steward didn’t even glance at her face. “Top of the northeast spire,” he snapped. “Take the service stairwell, or the guards will toss you over the walls.”

Snow nodded quickly and slipped away before the man could take a second look. Inside the castle, the quiet halls loomed high with stained glass and polished marble, eerily empty at this hour. Snow White climbed stair after stair, the rough stone steps winding dizzyingly toward the spire. Finally, she reached the top and slipped into a grand chamber—Prince Charming’s private quarters. She set the basket down, her breath coming a little too fast. The cloak came off. Her fingers trembled as she reached into her pocket and unfolded the note she had kept close to her heart.

But just as she began walking further in, the echo of approaching footsteps made her freeze. Snow ducked behind one of the ornate stone columns, her heart pounding. She dropped the note and snatched it up in haste, barely making it back behind the pillar before Prince Charming entered. He walked past her hiding place, unaware of her presence, his face taut with worry. She watched him for a long moment, love and grief warring inside her. But then, a hand grabbed her from behind.

Snow White hit the cell floor with a grunt as the heavy iron door slammed shut behind her. The air was cold and damp, filled with the earthy scent of moss and the mildew of centuries. The dungeon was carved deep into the foundation of the castle, its walls jagged and uneven. Chains clanked softly from somewhere in the dark. “Wait! I am a royal emissary!” she cried out, but the guard only held up the crumpled note from Prince Charming.

“Sure you are,” he said with mocking finality. “The King will decide your fate.”

The keys jingled cruelly in his hand as he locked the door and disappeared into the corridor. Snow White clenched her jaw. She rattled the bars, then climbed to the top of the door. With agile precision, she began searching the stonework for any crack, any ledge, anything that might offer a chance of escape. But the dungeon was built to imprison the strongest of men, and the walls gave nothing. She lost her grip and landed hard on the ground. And that’s when she heard it. A faint, off-key whistling—“Heigh-Ho.” “Who's there?” she called out, scrambling to her feet.

From the shadows of a neighboring cell, a gruff voice answered. “What are you looking at, sister?”

A dwarf stepped into the moonlight filtering through the narrow barred window. His beard was full and coarse, and his expression was hardened by disappointment. “Tried it all,” he muttered as she inspected her cell’s lock. “Steel gets stronger as we grow weaker.”

“I’m not... giving... up,” she said through clenched teeth, grabbing a piece of straw and trying to pick the lock.

“Give it time,” he said. “Grumpy.”

She scoffed. “I’m not grumpy. I’m focused.”

“No, that’s my name—Grumpy,” he clarified. “And I’m telling you, there’s no way out.”

“Well, I’m Snow,” she said stubbornly, “and I will find one.”

But the straw snapped. She groaned and slumped down in frustration. Grumpy watched her from across the shadows. “There’s someone out there for you?” he asked with mild curiosity.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Someone I love very much. And I will not lose him.”

Grumpy sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Love, huh? Good luck with that.”

“Oh? And what would you know about it?” she asked, voice sharp.

Grumpy leaned against the wall of his cell and stared out at the void. “It’s why I’m stuck in this hole,” he said. “I had it bad. She was beautiful, like a fairy. I thought if I could just give her something real, she’d know how serious I was. I worked at the diamond mines. Traded every coin I earned for one perfect gem, one diamond big enough to ask her to be mine. But I got played. Turns out, the diamond was stolen. I took the fall. Now I’m just a thief to them.” Snow looked at him with new understanding. “I should’ve known better,” Grumpy added, “but love… it doesn’t let you think clearly. Now I’m here, and she’s gone.”

Just then, another voice echoed through the darkness. “I know a way out.”

A masked dwarf stepped forward from the far corridor, removing his kerchief to reveal a boyish face with a devilish grin. “Stealthy?” Grumpy’s voice lifted with disbelief.

“Doc whipped up a sleeping gas. Knocked out the guards. The rest are waiting outside,” Stealthy said, jingling a large ring of keys.

Grumpy approached the bars. “You ready to go home?”

Snow watched them, torn between hope and the fear that she’d never reach Charming in time. “Who’s that?” Stealthy asked, eyeing Snow with curiosity. “She’s pretty.”

“No one,” Grumpy said quickly. “Come on. Let’s go.”

As they turned to leave, Snow spoke again—soft, sincere. “Grumpy… Good luck. I hope you get your love back.”

Grumpy stopped. He glanced at Stealthy, who shook his head in warning. “Son of a…” he muttered. Snatching the keys from Stealthy, he stomped back to Snow’s cell and unlocked the door. “Come on,” he grunted. “You’ve got someone waiting, don’t you?”

Snow smiled, hope blooming in her chest. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”

And together, they slipped into the shadows. Outside, the cold night clung to the castle walls. The full moon hovered like a watchful eye as Hiccup crouched with Toothless behind a row of hedges just beyond the outer ramparts. The wind tugged at his cloak, and Toothless gave a low growl. “There,” Hiccup whispered, pointing.

From the base of the fortress, two small figures emerged from a hidden gate—Grumpy and Stealthy. They ran into the deserted courtyard, breath clouding the air, footsteps light and quick. But then—shouts. A troop of guards rounded the far corner, swords drawn, armor clanking like thunder. “Halt! Those two are prisoners!” one barked.

Grumpy’s eyes widened in horror. “No—Stealthy!”

“Run!” Stealthy cried. “We can make it!”

Without hesitation, he broke into a sprint. Grumpy followed, teeth clenched. But the whistle of an arrow sliced the air.

Thwack!

Stealthy gasped, stumbling as the shaft embedded in his side. He crumpled to the ground with a groan of pain. “STEEEALTHY!” Grumpy’s voice cracked. He dropped beside him, gathering his fallen friend’s shoulders. “Stealthy, stay with me. Come on…”

But Stealthy’s eyes began to dim, lips parted in a final whisper neither the dwarf nor the wind could catch. Snow White had crept up behind the outer gate, just in time to see Stealthy fall. Her hand flew to her mouth. Her chest clenched. This was her fault. A dozen booted footsteps echoed as King George himself appeared at the head of his soldiers, face impassive, eyes cold. “Where is the girl?” he demanded.

Grumpy glared at the king, still heartbroken that his brother had been killed. He wasn’t going to let Snow White be killed. “What girl?”

King George narrowed his eyes. “Kill him.”

A guard stepped forward, blade drawn. Grumpy rose to his knees beside Stealthy’s still body, bracing for the final blow. And then, a shriek tore across the sky.

SSSSKKKKKREEEEEEE!!

From the heavens above, a black shape dove through the clouds like a thunderbolt. The guards scattered and looked up in terror. Wings cut the air like great sails. Toothless plummeted from the stars, a comet of shadow and flame, Hiccup astride him, the dragon’s plasma-charged growl shaking the ground. They landed with thunderous force between Grumpy and the guards. Dust and sparks exploded from the courtyard stones. Hiccup leapt down, eyes blazing beneath his mask. In one hand, he drew his blade and ignited it. The flames roared to life, casting an orange glow that flickered in the startled faces of King George’s soldiers.

“Toothless,” he growled.

The dragon snarled and took a step forward, his fins flaring wide, blue fire glowing in his maw. “Back. Away,” Hiccup said coldly. “Now.”

The courtyard was quiet for only a breath before all hell broke loose. Steel clashed against steel as the masked dragon rider—Hiccup—plunged into the fray, his flaming sword slicing through the shadows. He moved with precision born of years riding alongside death, each motion swift and measured. Toothless circled overhead, unleashing pulses of plasma that exploded near the guards, scattering them like frightened birds. “Protect the King!” shouted one of the soldiers, raising his shield too late.

Hiccup darted through the chaos like a spark in dry grass. His blade spun in arcs of light, parrying strikes, disarming enemies, dropping them with graceful, practiced momentum. Though he was lean, his movements were unrelenting—fearless. Grumpy crouched protectively over Stealthy’s fallen body, eyes wide, unable to look away from the masked warrior cutting through soldiers like wind through wheat. “Who… who is this guy?”

Toothless landed with a thunderous growl behind his rider, tail lashing. His eyes burned electric blue. One soldier charged Hiccup with a spear. In a blink, Hiccup ducked low, twisted beneath the thrust, and slammed the hilt of his sword into the guard’s side. Another came from behind—he turned, but too late. Strong arms grabbed him, yanking his arms back. Another soldier joined in, pinning Hiccup’s legs. He kicked and twisted, snarling in frustration—but they held firm. King George stepped forward, boots echoing against the stone as he surveyed the battlefield now littered with groaning, injured men. 

He stared at the masked warrior pinned before him. “Hold him,” George ordered coldly.

The guards forced Hiccup to his knees. George stepped in close, scowling at the defiant tilt of the masked head. “I expected a beast,” he muttered, circling him. “A phantom rider with a flaming blade and a nightmare dragon. The scourge of the skies. But this…” He reached out and ripped off the mask.

The flickering torchlight revealed a face—young, sharp-jawed, tousled brown hair damp with sweat. Intelligent eyes full of fire and fury met the king’s. “A child?” George sneered, stepping back with disbelief. “The great masked dragon rider is a child?” He looked to his guards, disgusted. “This is who you couldn’t stop?”

Hiccup’s chest heaved, but he remained silent, jaw clenched tight. His green eyes never left George’s. George raised his sword. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ve meddled in my affairs for the last time.”

The blade hovered at Hiccup’s neck. Then a voice rang out. “Looking for me?”

The king froze. From the shadows of the gate, Snow White stepped forward, lowering her hood to reveal her face, resolute and calm. She held a torch high, its flame licking toward a mound of dry straw stacked beside barrels and crates—kindling for a funeral pyre. George turned, sword still raised, surprised but not shaken. “Let them go…” Snow said steadily, lowering the torch a little, close enough to let the heat speak for itself.

The king’s gaze flicked between her face and the torch. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Behind her, the fire crackled. They stood locked in a silent contest of wills—steel against flame, power against heart. George’s lip curled. “Begone, dwarf.”

Snow’s eyes flicked to Grumpy. “Go, Grumpy.”

He hesitated. “But—”

A soldier kicked him sharply. “Ugh!” Grumpy gasped, knocked forward. 

He scrambled to his feet, glancing between Hiccup and Snow. Grumpy nodded, stumbled past the guards, and limped toward the wall. Hiccup looked at her now—his eyes no longer defiant but searching. Trusting. She gave him a small nod. Toothless snarled and swept across the courtyard. As guards backed away, the dragon gathered Stealthy’s fallen form gently into his forearms. He paused by Hiccup and let out a low, mournful trill. The boy and his dragon met eyes one last time. Then with one mighty leap, Toothless soared skyward, vanishing into the clouds. The fire in Snow’s hand guttered slightly in the wind.

King George stepped forward, his patience worn thin. He motioned sharply to his guards. One of them rushed forward and tore the torch from Snow’s grasp, extinguishing it in the dirt. Another grabbed her arms and bound her wrists behind her roughly with coarse rope. She winced but kept her expression composed. George leaned in, cold satisfaction in his eyes. “Now… Snow White,” he said quietly. “We need to talk.”

Snow met his gaze with silent fury.

---

(Storybrooke)

The four stepped out into the calm aftermath of the storm. The forest was still soaked, but peaceful now, shrouded in mist, washed clean. They walked down the road together. “Please,” David said as they moved. “Can we at least talk about this?”

“Shhh,” she whispered, raising a hand.

Above them, the trees rustled—and from the gray sky, a small flock of doves emerged, flying low and circling. “They didn’t leave,” Mary Margaret breathed. “They waited.”

“Waited for the storm to pass,” Harry said quietly behind them. “Smart birds.”

Mary Margaret smiled softly. She opened the cage. “Okay, girl,” she whispered to the dove inside. “Time to join your friends. You can do it.”

She lifted the dove high and let go. It took flight, fluttering toward the others. Mary Margaret laughed as she watched it disappear among the trees. David reached for her hand. She pulled away. “No, David. It’s too painful.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he pleaded. “We don’t even know if Kathryn’s pregnant—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, voice strained. “You chose her.”

“I still have feelings for you,” he said. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but… I feel like I’m living two lives. One with memories of her… and one with real feelings for you.”

“Who’s to say which is real?” she whispered.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I know,” she said. “Me too.” A pause. “But we’re going to have to.”

She turned and walked away, leaving him standing there in the mist. Harry and Toothless exchanged a quiet glance and stepped forward to join David as the birds vanished into the sky above. None of them spoke. The storm had passed, but the ache in the air lingered like smoke.

---

(Enchanted Forest)

The flickering torchlight cast long, eerie shadows against the stone walls of the royal chamber. Dampness clung to the air like a second skin, and Snow White stood bound, her wrists raw from the tight ropes as she faced the man who held an entire kingdom in his clenched fist. King George sat behind a polished desk, parchment spread before him. His armor gleamed even in the low light, but his face was more iron than steel—hardened, immovable, merciless. He looked up, voice smooth as oil, but sharpened at the edges like a blade. “So you're the one.”

Snow White met his gaze, jaw set. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Enough.” The word cracked across the room like a whip. He lifted a parchment between two fingers and gave it a small shake. “I know everything. You poisoned his heart. Now his marriage. And with that, the entire kingdom—all because of your feelings.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came. What could she say? That she hadn’t meant to fall in love with the man she wasn’t meant to meet? That a single stolen moment had rewritten both their destinies? “I wish…” she said softly, voice trembling just slightly, “feelings could be helped. But they can’t.”

“Of course they can,” King George spat, rising to his feet, voice growing colder. “Love is a disease. And like all diseases, it can be vanquished in one of two ways: a cure…” He leaned in, eyes narrowing. “…or death.”

Snow’s heart pounded, but she refused to look away. “Do you know where your beloved is right now?” the king said, circling her like a predator. “He’s just down that hallway. Packing for his new life.”

She stiffened. “He’ll never know I was here,” she said quietly.

“Oh yes, he will.” King George held up the letter—the one Charming had written, the one that had brought her here. “Because you are going to walk down that hallway, Snow White. You’re going to sneak into his chamber, and you’re going to tell him you received this letter. And you’re going to tell him the truth.”

Her brows furrowed. “The truth?” she echoed.

“That you don’t love him.”

Snow White’s breath hitched. King George leaned in, words hissing like venom. “It’ll break his heart. And that… that will cure him.”

“And if I don’t?” she whispered, dread curling around her spine.

The king smiled thinly. “Oh, I won’t kill you. No, that would only deepen his obsession. Martyrdom makes lovers into legends. No, Snow. If you fail me…” He stepped back, voice turning cold and deadly. “I’ll kill him.”

Snow’s heart dropped. King George turned his back to her, his cape rustling as he stared at the torchlit wall. “Midas would forgive. He’d mourn the boy. He’d still sign the alliance. But love? Love is chaos. And I won’t let chaos touch my kingdom.”

Snow’s voice cracked. “You would do that… to your own son?”

The king froze. Then, slowly, without turning around, he said: “He is not my son.”

The hall was quiet, lined with thick velvet drapes and golden sconces. The weight of her decision hung like a boulder in Snow White’s chest as she crept through the corridor. Her footsteps were soft, silent. Every breath trembled. Her hands, though freed, still ached from the bindings. She stopped outside the door to the prince’s chamber. Beyond it, she could hear him—his voice, humming softly. The rustle of fabric. The snap of a traveling satchel closing. Snow White closed her eyes, drew in a breath, and pushed the door open. He turned at once, startled—then a light burst across his face. “Snow.”

She closed the door behind her, and for a second, neither of them moved. “I got your letter,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped toward her, hopeful. “You came.”

“I—”

“You came,” he repeated, rushing forward. His arms wrapped around her in a fierce embrace, lifting her slightly from the floor. “You came!” he laughed, burying his face in her hair. “I can’t believe it. You came.”

His joy was so real, so pure—it made her want to shatter. She placed her hands gently on his chest, pushing back. “Wait, James.”

He froze, the joy on his face fading as he looked into her eyes. “Us… it can’t happen.”

He blinked. “What?”

“It can’t,” she whispered. “We can’t.”

He took her hands in his, desperate. “Of course we can! You’re here. That’s all I ever needed! We’ll leave. We’ll vanish into the woods, into the mountains—I don’t care about the crown, about the alliance, about—”

“Stop,” she said. Her voice trembled.

He shook his head, unwilling to listen. “I planned everything. They can’t hurt us. And now that I know you love me—”

“I don’t.”

The room fell into silence. Charming stared at her, as if struck. “What?”

“I don’t love you.”

The words burned her throat. Her heart screamed liar with every beat, but her face remained still, serene. “I’m sorry,” she said.

He stepped back, reeling. “You said…” His voice cracked. “You said I’d always be in your heart…”

“And that,” she whispered, “is too cruel a fate.” Tears rimmed his eyes. “Go live your life, James. Live it fully. Live it with someone who can love you the way I never have. The way I never will.”

She reached into her cloak and pulled out his letter. Her fingers brushed his one last time as she handed it to him. He took it numbly. She turned to leave—and as she walked past him, a single tear rolled down her cheek. He remained frozen where he stood, alone in his chamber, clutching the letter as it crumpled in his hand.

The moon hung high above the treetops, a silver eye watching silently over the slumbering forest. The air was still, thick with sorrow, as Toothless padded through the underbrush, careful with the bundle he carried. Wrapped in a tattered cloak and strewn with dwarf-woven sashes, Stealthy’s body lay cradled in the dragon’s claws—motionless, but no longer alone. Hiccup walked ahead, his silhouette cast by the soft flicker of a torch he held. His face, normally filled with wide-eyed curiosity and wonder, was now solemn. The gleam of his dragon-scale armor was dulled by ash and grief.

Behind them, trailing with slow, reverent steps, walked Grumpy. His head was bowed, his eyes unreadable beneath his thick brows. He hadn’t said much since the escape. Not since the arrow hit. Not since Stealthy’s last words faded from his ears. Hiccup turned to Grumpy. The dwarf still held Stealthy’s old mining helmet in his hands, running a calloused thumb across the dented rim. “I…” Grumpy started, then stopped. Hiccup waited. “I didn’t get to say goodbye,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “Never even got to say ‘thank you.’ He got me out. All of us. And now he’s gone.” He looked up at Hiccup, eyes narrowed, but wet. “You know anything about… about sending someone off proper? A real farewell?”

Hiccup slowly rose to his feet, voice low and solemn. “In my village, we give our fallen a Viking funeral. For us, it’s not just about death—it’s about honor. About sending them into the next world in fire, in flight, and in light.”

Hiccup and Toothless led Grumpy and the other dwarves to a clearing. The clearing was by a wide lake, quiet and misted over. The water glowed faintly under the moonlight. It was here they had chosen to say goodbye. Grumpy stood across from Hiccup, fists clenched at his sides, eyes rimmed red but dry. The other dwarves—Doc, Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy, Bashful, and Dopey—stood behind him, silent as the stone statues in the dwarven mines. None of them spoke. They didn’t need to. He stepped back as the other dwarves helped lift Stealthy’s body, placing him atop a makeshift raft constructed from felled logs and bound tightly with rope. 

Flowers—yellow, blue, and white—were placed at his side. Hiccup had added a small carved dragon figure to the base, and Grumpy gently laid Stealthy's pickaxe across his chest. They carried the raft into the water, letting it glide until it reached the center of the lake. Toothless stepped forward and growled low in his throat. With a flick of his tail, he shot a plasma blast into the sky—a bright purple flare arcing high above the lake like a falling star. Hiccup bowed his head, “There do I see my father, my mother, and my brothers and my sister. They bid me take my place among them in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave shall live forever.”

The raft had floated just far enough. Stealthy lay still, his face serene, the torchlight catching the edges of the dagger on his chest. With a deep breath, Grumpy raised the flame—and hurled it. The torch arced through the night air and struck the raft dead center. Flames burst up immediately, golden and hot, dancing like spirits across the wood. The fire swallowed the raft, the flowers, and the edges of Stealthy’s pickaxe. The lake lit up in fiery gold, and the dwarves stood still as statues, their shadows cast wide behind them. Toothless let out a long, mournful roar—low and echoing, a sound that shook the trees.

Dopey covered his mouth, eyes glistening. Bashful wiped his tears in silence. Doc placed a hand on Happy’s shoulder as Sleepy closed his eyes and bowed his head. Even Sneezy managed to hold back for once. Grumpy stared straight into the flames, lips pressed tight. Grumpy didn’t respond. But he didn’t walk away either. The flames burned until the raft was nothing but embers floating on the dark water—embers that slowly faded like stars at dawn. Hiccup looked around at the gathered dwarves. After a long moment, Grumpy turned to Hiccup. “You… you didn’t have to do that. But you did. For him. For all of us.”

The other dwarves looked to Hiccup now, seeing him not just as the masked dragon rider, but as the boy beneath the armor. Young, but wise. Quiet, but brave. Grumpy cleared his throat. “You know, if you need somewhere to rest your head… you’re welcome with us. The mine’s got room. Plenty of it.”

Hiccup blinked, a little stunned by the offer. “That’s kind of you. I—thank you.”

Grumpy shrugged, trying not to seem too sentimental. “Stealthy would’ve wanted it.”

Behind Hiccup, Toothless grunted approvingly, his wings shifting as if to say, We’ll consider it.

---

(Storybrooke)

The clouds had broken sometime during the early morning hours. Dew clung to the windows, and the scent of wet pine lingered in the air. In Storybrooke, the town stirred slowly in the wake of the storm, yet behind quiet doors, more personal tempests brewed. At the Nolan residence, David dressed in silence. He moved with the habitual rhythm of someone long-practiced at normalcy—buttoning his shirt, reaching for the belt on the dresser, tying his shoes. Kathryn sat quietly at the foot of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. Her eyes followed him, uncertain. The air between them had shifted. Neither knew exactly when. 

Maybe the moment he reappeared after weeks of vanishing. Maybe the first morning she woke up and found him watching her like a stranger, wearing a face she knew but a presence she didn’t. They spoke. Gently. Tiredly. Honestly, for once. They said all the things couples say when one wants to fight harder than the other. When both are afraid, the foundation is slipping but they pretend they can still hold it together with effort, good intentions, and appointments with Dr. Hopper. And somehow, in the delicate space between disappointment and hope, they decided on breakfast.

Downstairs, the scent of coffee began to brew—but for David, something was missing. At precisely 7:15, he wasn’t reaching for his travel mug, wasn’t stepping out the door with thoughts of Granny’s Diner. He was sitting across from his wife, forcing a smile, and silently mourning what he hadn’t yet let go. Across town, the Swan-Blanchard residence was still and warm. The storm had left its mark outside—fallen branches, flooded gutters—but inside, the house was quiet, the air thick with unspoken feelings. Mary Margaret sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug she hadn’t sipped from. 

She stared past it, past the counter and the window, to the small wooden clock hanging on the wall. The minute hand crept slowly upward. 7:14… 7:15. Emma, seated across from her, watched. She followed Mary Margaret’s gaze and saw the moment hit—the moment that used to mean something. Emma didn’t say anything at first. She just reached across the table and took her roommate’s hand. Mary Margaret’s fingers were cold. Their eyes met, and Emma offered the only comfort she could: presence. No judgment. No advice. Just understanding. Because Emma, too, had her own ghosts this morning.

The stranger. All day yesterday, she had been quietly circling a new mystery in town: the man who had spoken to Henry at Granny’s. A quiet conversation that lingered in her son's mind longer than it should have. The man claimed he was just passing through. Said he came to Storybrooke for “inspiration.” Said he had a typewriter with him in his room at the inn. Emma had checked—he did. A black vintage Remington, the kind that didn’t travel lightly unless it had a purpose. Writers came and went, but something about this man’s gaze, his questions, his timing—it scratched at her instincts like sandpaper on skin.

She’d spent hours chasing vague background checks and waiting on calls that hadn’t come. She didn’t trust him. Not yet. But for today, she set that aside. Because right now, Mary Margaret needed her. Upstairs, a creak of floorboards marked Harry's footsteps as he moved through his usual morning routine. Toothless padded softly after him, ever loyal, ever silent. Harry hadn’t said much since returning from the woods. But his eyes, when he’d seen the way Mary Margaret walked into the house without looking back, had said everything. He had stayed up late, scribbling in his own notebook—he didn’t need a typewriter. 

His thoughts ran faster than keys could keep up with. But for now, he’d give them all space. Downstairs, Emma squeezed Mary Margaret’s hand gently. Outside, another day in Storybrooke began. And at 7:15, not a word passed between them—but so much was said.

---

(Enchanted Forest)

The forest path was quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath leather boots. Snow White walked alone, her cloak trailing behind her like the remnants of a dream. She paused, glancing back at the castle, the towers rising like jagged teeth into the sky. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Every step away from James felt like something inside her was tearing. Just as she turned away from the castle for good, the sound of movement behind her broke the stillness. “Snow!” came a familiar voice.

She turned. Grumpy and the other dwarves emerged from the shadows of the trees, Toothless padding silently at their side, and just behind him, Hiccup. Snow White’s eyes widened as she finally saw the masked rider unmasked. Young. Too young, she thought. His face was soft at the edges but shadowed by grief. It didn’t match the legend she’d heard whispered—of the phantom warrior who soared through night skies on a dragon’s back. “You’re just a boy,” she said aloud before she could stop herself.

Hiccup offered a faint smile. “I get that a lot.”

Grumpy stepped up beside her. “You okay, sister?”

Snow White shook her head, eyes shining. “Not even close.”

“You didn’t find him?” Grumpy asked gently.

“Worse,” she replied, swallowing the pain. “I lost him.”

Grumpy stepped forward and took her hand, his grip rough but grounding. “Come on.”

Snow blinked at him. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home. We all lost someone today,” Grumpy said softly.

Doc added, his voice tinged with sadness, “Now we’re seven.”

Grumpy looked back at Hiccup and Toothless. “And you too. If you want. You’re one of us now.”

Toothless chirped, brushing his head against Hiccup’s arm. The boy nodded. “We’ll stay. For a while.”

Snow White said nothing, just stared ahead, hollow, quiet. Grumpy glanced at her again as they walked. “You’re not alone anymore. We’ve got you.”

Snow reached into her cloak and pulled out the vial Rumplestiltskin had given her—dark, dangerous, and full of promise. “This would take everything away,” she murmured. “All the pain.”

Grumpy frowned and gently took the vial from her. “Don’t.”

“Why not? You’ve lost love. Wouldn’t you want your pain gone, too?”

He shook his head. “No. It makes me who I am. It makes me Grumpy.” She smiled weakly through her tears. “Look around, Snow,” he continued. “You’re not alone. You don’t need magic. You just need time… and us.”

Snow White looked at the dwarves, at Toothless, at Hiccup—the boy who flew through fire for people he didn’t even know. She reached out and took Grumpy’s hand. “Okay,” she whispered.

She tucked the vial away and walked on. And they all walked with her together, a little broken, but not alone. Not anymore.

---

(Storybrooke)

The clang of the bell above the door barely registered over the quiet murmur of morning chatter at Granny’s. The clock on the wall read 7:45, a time that used to carry secret smiles and subtle glances—but now hung heavy with complicated silence. Mary Margaret sat alone at the counter, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of coffee Ruby had just handed her. She had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that today might feel different. That maybe the weight in her chest would be lighter. That maybe 7:15, and all its bittersweet longing, would pass without hurting so much. But 7:45 came instead—and with it, David.

He stepped through the door, and his eyes found hers instantly. No hesitation. No pause. Just a sharp turn, and he was gone again—back out into the street like he hadn’t come in at all. Mary Margaret stood up without thinking. She didn’t glance at Ruby, who offered only a knowing look. She pushed out through the door and into the sunlight, brisk morning air biting against her cheeks. She saw him ahead, walking quickly. She called after him. “David!”

He turned, the frustration clear in his voice before she even reached him. “It’s 7:45,” he said, his hands half-raised as if to blame the minute hand on the clock for their continued unraveling.

“I know,” she answered, breath quick, eyes already wet with unshed emotion.

“I’m trying not to see you!” he said, the words snapping out like a confession.

“Well, I am trying not to see you!” she fired back, equally raw.

They stared at each other, two people desperately attempting to untangle a thread that only tightened the more they pulled. “How do we stop seeing each other?” David asked, almost a whisper now. The fight was fading into sorrow.

Mary Margaret shook her head. “Apparently we can’t.”

And that was the truth neither of them wanted to face—no matter how hard they ran, how carefully they timed their mornings or avoided old paths, fate had other plans. David stepped closer. His voice softened. “She’s not pregnant.”

Three simple words. A lock unlatched. Mary Margaret didn’t hesitate this time. She reached for him, and he met her in the middle. Their lips collided in a kiss that said everything they hadn’t been able to say aloud. Months of torment and denial broke in a single moment of honesty, desperate and real. For a breath of time, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. But they weren’t. From across the street, behind the wheel of a parked car, Regina Mills watched. Her eyes were cold. Calculating. She sat in silence, one manicured finger tapping the leather steering wheel. She didn’t look surprised. Just... satisfied.

The game, after all, was still hers to control. And now she had one more piece in motion.

---

(Enchanted Forest)

The early morning mist curled around the trees like ghosts reluctant to leave the night. A golden haze began to warm the tops of the pines as dawn crept into the forest. Birds chirped hesitantly, as if unsure whether it was truly morning. The dwarves’ cottage sat quiet and still—almost too still. That stillness shattered as the front door was thrown open with a loud thud. Grumpy barreled through the doorway like a storm in boots, his beard still flecked with pine needles from the forest trail. His voice boomed through the cottage, full of urgency and disbelief. “Doc! Where’s Snow?” he barked, barely giving the dwarf time to look up from a breakfast he hadn’t touched.

Doc blinked, startled, and pointed wordlessly toward the back room. Grumpy didn’t wait. “Snow! Snow!” he called, his boots stomping across the wooden floor as Hiccup stumbled in behind him, trying to catch his breath after the sprint.

“The royal wedding!” Grumpy blurted out. “The whole kingdom’s talking! It’s off, Snow! He left her! James left Abigail!”

Snow White sat upright in bed, her dark hair tangled around her shoulders, her skin pale in the dim light of morning. She blinked, slowly, as if struggling to make sense of the world. Her eyes were heavy, not from sleep, but from something far worse—emptiness. Grumpy moved closer, breathless now, face lit with hope. “Did you hear me? Your Prince Charming isn’t getting married!”

She tilted her head, confused. “Who?” she asked softly, her voice cracked, unfamiliar.

Grumpy froze. His excitement drained in an instant. His eyes dropped to the table beside her bed. There, resting in the filtered sunlight like a cruel trophy, was the small, empty vial—the same vial Rumplestiltskin had once given her. The one that promised peace by way of forgetting. The glass glinted, uncaring, already dry inside.

“No…” Grumpy breathed, his heart twisting.

Snow’s gaze drifted toward the window. She looked out at the trees like they were strangers. Her eyes no longer held grief. No tears. No anger. Just silence. Stillness. Hiccup stepped up behind Grumpy, glancing between the woman and the vial. His brows furrowed. “She doesn’t remember,” Grumpy said hoarsely, turning back to Hiccup. “She took it. All the pain—her memories of James—they’re gone.”

Snow turned toward them, eyes calm, but confused by their sorrow. “I’m sorry… should I know you?” she asked gently.

Grumpy looked shattered. He turned away, blinking rapidly. Hiccup, young and unsure, stepped forward slowly. “My name’s Hiccup. I’m the one who helped… yesterday. With Stealthy.”

Snow blinked again, surprised by the voice more than the name. Her eyes traced over the boy—no, young man—with his dragon-scale armor and soot-smeared face. For a moment, there was recognition. Not of him—but of something else. “You’re the masked dragon rider,” she murmured. “You’re just… a child.”

Hiccup offered a soft smile. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”

She tilted her head, curious, though she didn’t remember why. Grumpy looked at her, swallowing hard, then turned back to Hiccup. “She’s not going to remember him,” he whispered. “Not unless the effects wear off.”

“And if they don’t?” Hiccup asked quietly.

Grumpy set his jaw. “Then we remember for her. That’s what family does.”

Snow stood slowly, brushing down her dress and glancing toward the door. “Where are we going?” she asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Grumpy took a shaky breath and forced a soft smile. “For a walk. Just… to feel the wind. You used to like that.”

Snow nodded, content. “Alright then.”

Hiccup lingered by the door as Grumpy led her out. The young dragon rider looked once more at the empty vial on the table—its promise kept, its price steep. Toothless, waiting just outside the cottage, gave a low growl of concern.

Hiccup sighed. “She doesn’t remember him, bud. Doesn’t even know what she lost.”

Toothless nudged his side gently, and the boy-turned-hero glanced up at the rising sun, unsure what would come next… only that they would face it together.

Chapter 13: Fruit of the Poisonous Tree

Notes:

I couldn't figure out how to incorporate Hiccup and Toothless into this, so I'm going to make this one a brief summary of the chapter, focusing on Sidney and Emma's detective work and a bit on Sidney's past as the Genie/magic mirror. And I'll make it up with a real chapter today so get ready for two chapters today. Also, Happy Father's Day

The skies over Storybrooke seemed heavier than usual. In the wake of emotional tension and a brewing storm, Emma Swan remained determined to protect the people she’d come to care about—even if it meant turning on those she once thought she could trust. When Henry’s cherished play fort was suddenly destroyed under Regina’s orders, Emma sensed there was more to it than just clearing town land. That same day, Sidney Glass—disgraced former editor of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror—approached Emma with claims of corruption. He told her Regina had embezzled $50,000 from town funds, using it to build something in secret.

Emma, skeptical but curious, agreed to work with him. Harry Jones, concerned about Emma’s safety, offered to help, though he and Toothless kept to the background. Toothless’s instincts flared when Emma nearly lost control of her car following Regina through the storm-lashed woods—a brake failure that wasn’t just a coincidence. Harry later inspected the car with her, and though he couldn’t prove it, they both knew someone had tampered with it. As Emma and Sidney dug deeper, they uncovered blueprints and surveillance photos suggesting Regina had been spying on key people in town. 

Fueled by what they believed was damning evidence, they confronted Regina at a town council meeting. But Regina, ever calculating, flipped the situation with chilling ease, revealing the secret project was a new public playground and branding Emma’s actions as political slander. It worked. The town applauded her generosity. Emma was left humiliated. But not all truths are revealed at once. Behind Emma’s back, Sidney secretly returned to Regina’s side, reporting everything back to her. His loyalty, it turned out, had never shifted. He remained her pawn—her magic mirror—willing to deceive and sabotage if it meant staying in her good graces.

Elsewhere, Emma’s day-long investigation meant time away from home. Mary Margaret, quietly struggling with heartbreak, was left to care for Henry alone. Harry and Toothless spent most of their time at the house, trying to keep the peace while Emma pursued justice. Henry, still mourning his treehouse, found comfort lying beside Toothless, who refused to let him feel alone. As night fell, Emma realized the sting of betrayal came not only from Regina, but from someone she had trusted to stand beside her. The seeds had been planted. Now, the poisonous roots of manipulation were spreading underfoot.

Parallel in the Enchanted Forest, long ago, King Leopold frees and gifts his final wish to a genie in a lamp—this genie being the man who becomes the Magic Mirror. The genie gives the Queen a magical mirror to reflect her beauty, but jealousy and betrayal lead him to ruin. In an act of guilt and love, he releases venomous snakes in the king’s bed, killing him at the Queen’s request. As punishment, his final wish condemns him to be trapped in the mirror, forever bound to Regina.

Chapter 14: Skin Deep

(Enchanted Forest)

A tale as old as time: Beauty and the Beast. The story of Belle, a girl from a small town, tries to rescue her father from a beast in a castle, but instead, she takes her father's place and promises the beast to stay in the castle forever. Belle not only falls for the beast but also saves him from Gaston. Or at least, that’s how the tale goes.

But in the enchanted forest, Belle is a real princess, and her father, Maurice, was the Duke of a small village. Gaston was a prince who happened to be engaged to Belle. However, the kingdom was on the verge of war with the ogres. A cold silence loomed over Maurice’s stone-hewn castle, broken only by the sound of a heavy downpour beating against stained-glass windows and the distant roll of war drums. The grand hall, once used for balls and royal declarations, had become a makeshift war room. A table crowded with maps of nearby kingdoms, reports of troop movements, and flickering candles stood at the center. 

Belle, the young daughter of Duke Maurice, lingered near it, her delicate fingers brushing the edges of a tattered map. Her golden-brown eyes scanned the lines of villages and valleys—the same ones now falling to the merciless advance of ogres. The steward, pale and breathless from his return, removed his damp hood. “Avonlea has fallen,” he announced grimly, placing a sealed scroll on the table.

Gasps rippled through the room. Maurice’s expression hardened as he turned away from the group, his lined face sinking into shadow. “Oh, my gods…” he murmured, voice cracking with the weight of helplessness.

Gaston, dressed in the polished red armor of a princely suitor, clenched his fists. “If only he had come...”

“Well he didn’t, did he?” Maurice snapped, storming across the chamber. “Ogres are not men.” He collapsed into the throne, the weight of war settling in his bones.

“We have to do something. We have to stop them,” Gaston insisted.

Belle stepped forward, her voice softer but stronger. “He could be on his way right now, Papa.”

Maurice shook his head. “It’s too late, my girl. It’s just... too late.”

A loud banging suddenly echoed through the castle. Belle’s eyes lit up. “That’s him! That has to be him.”

Everyone in the war chamber moved toward the door. Guards rushed forward, flinging it open. No one stood in the hall. But a voice answered from within. “Well, that was a bit of a let down!” said Rumplestiltskin, lounging arrogantly on Maurice’s throne. “You sent me a message, something about, ‘Help! Help! We’re dying. Can you save us?” Gaston drew his sword. Rumplestiltskin barely blinked as he slapped the blade aside. “Well, the answer is... yes, I can. Yes, I can protect your little town... for a price.”

Maurice stepped forward. “We sent you a promise of gold.”

“Ah... now, you see, um... I uh... make gold. What I want is something a bit more special. My price... is her.” He pointed to Belle.

Maurice’s voice thundered. “No.”

Gaston stepped in front of Belle. “The young lady is engaged... to me.”

“I wasn’t asking if she was engaged. I’m not looking for love! I’m looking for a caretaker... for my rather large estate. It’s her, or no deal.”

“Get out,” Maurice ordered, his hand raised toward the door.

“As you wish,” Rumplestiltskin said, turning.

“No, wait!” Belle cried out, stepping forward. Rumplestiltskin paused, grinning as she crossed to him. I will go with him.”

“I forbid it, Belle!” Gaston protested.

“No one decides my fate but me! I shall go.”

“It’s forever, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin warned.

“My family, my friends... they will all live?” Belle asked.

“You have my word.”

“Then you have mine. I will go with you, forever.”

“Deal!”

Maurice was aghast. “Belle... Belle... you cannot do this! Belle, please! You cannot go with this.. beast.”

“Father... Gaston... It’s been decided.”

“You know, she’s right. The deal is struck,” Rumplestiltskin said with a wicked smile. “Oh, congratulations on your little war!”

And with that, the agreement was sealed. The girl who would become a legend stepped into the unknown, not with fear, but with resolve. For in her heart, Belle had always longed for more than the life of a nobleman's daughter. And in the darkness of the Beast’s castle, destiny awaited her with clawed hands and golden eyes.

---

(Storybrooke)

Morning sunlight spilled across the linoleum floor of Granny’s Diner, where the clink of coffee mugs and the low hum of conversation filled the air. The town felt caught in a strange limbo—the quiet before Valentine’s Day’s expected cheer—but here in Storybrooke, nothing was ever quite as it seemed. David sat alone at a booth by the window, deeply engrossed in a worn paperback of Anna Karenina. His brow furrowed as he thumbed to the next chapter, but his attention flicked up as he caught a familiar face across the room. Mary Margaret sat at a table not far away, slowly stirring her coffee as she tried not to meet his gaze. 

She noticed the book in his hands and smiled faintly. “Oh, you got the book!”

David closed it gently, tapping the cover with one finger. “Yeah, yeah, I just started it. It’s great. I can’t wait to see how it ends.”

From behind the counter, Ruby passed by with a coffee pot, topping off Mary Margaret’s cup with a knowing glance. “Uh, I can push the tables together if you guys—”

“Oh no, we’re not together,” Mary Margaret said quickly.

“No, it’s—” David began at the same time, his voice overlapping hers before he fell awkwardly silent.

Before either could add more, the door to the diner swung open. A soft jingle of the bell was followed by the measured footsteps of Emma Swan, still wearing her red leather jacket, her deputy badge clipped to her belt. At her side, padded Toothless, the large black wolf, and on the other side, Harry followed her in, tucking a worn notepad into his coat. He gave the room a cursory scan, alert as ever. “Smells like fresh lies and old coffee,” he muttered dryly. Toothless huffed in agreement, brushing past David’s booth with a swish of his tail.

Emma gave both Mary Margaret and David a small nod before sliding into the seat across from her roommate. “Hey, David.”

“Hey.”

“Mary Margaret.”

“So,” Emma asked, kicking one leg over the other. “How’s your day going?”

Mary Margaret lifted her coffee with a shrug. “Henry’s fine.”

Emma squinted at her. “That’s not what I asked you.”

Harry smirked, “Emma, you ask about Henry every time with Mary Margaret. Of course, she knows.”

Mary Margaret gave her a knowing look, lips pursing. “Really. He’s his normal self. Regina won’t keep you separated forever. When people are supposed to be together, they find a way.”

Her eyes drifted to David as she said it, and he offered her a faint smile. Emma rolled her eyes but reached for the sugar jar. “So he’s his normal self? He’s fine… he’s happy?” she said, her words muffled around a spoonful of toast.

“Yes.”

Just then, the diner door jingled again, and Ashley stepped in, bouncing her baby daughter, Alexandra, gently on her hip. Emma made a face—part disbelief, part amusement—at Mary Margaret. “No! He misses you!” Mary Margaret added quickly. “A lot! Trust me, I’m with him, like, six hours a day!”

Ashley caught that last bit as she handed her daughter to Granny behind the counter. “Six hours? Do you take newborns? ’Cause I’d love six hours.”

“Ashley!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, laughing. “I didn’t even recognize you!”

“Baby on the outside now,” Ashley said with a tired grin, pulling up a chair to join them. 

Toothless went over to Ashley and gave her puppy dog eyes to be pet. Ashley couldn’t resist and pet Toothless. “You look great, Ashley. How’s Sean and the baby?” Harry asked.

“She’s great. And Sean is great. But we haven’t had time to do the whole getting married thing, so… that’s been rough. Sean’s working double shifts at the cannery.” Ashley answered.

“Well, he has to work,” Mary Margaret replied sympathetically.

Ashley’s smile faltered. “On Valentine’s Day? Yeah. He couldn’t get out of it.”

Emma grimaced. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Ruby, never one to miss a mood drop, reappeared with a steaming mug for Ashley. “It doesn’t have to! Come out with me! Let’s have a girls’ night. Mary Margaret, Emma too—if you promise to leave the badge at home.”

Emma smirked, glancing at Harry, who was flipping through a few scribbled notes from his coat pocket. “I’m not really in the party mood,” she said. “But you guys can go and have fun.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow, not entirely buying it, but didn’t press. As she walked away, Emma’s phone buzzed on the table. Mary Margaret glanced over. “What’s that?”

Emma picked it up, reading quickly. “It’s the station. Something’s up.” Toothless gave a low growl as if in confirmation. Emma stood, already reaching for her jacket. “Come on, Harry.”

“Coming. Besides, I got no Valentine’s Day plans anyway,” he muttered, tossing a few bills on the table as they left. Toothless trotted behind them like a silent shadow.

The front steps of Mr. Gold’s home creaked under Emma’s boots as she approached, Toothless pausing at the base of the porch to sniff the air. Harry stopped just behind her, eyes narrowing. The door was ajar. Emma drew her gun instinctively, pushing the door open with her shoulder. Inside, the house was dim and silent. She stepped carefully down the hallway, clearing each room with trained precision. Suddenly… “Sheriff Swan.”

She turned quickly to find Mr. Gold standing at the far end of the hall, also holding a small pistol. The air between them was taut, electric. “Your neighbor saw your front door open and called it in,” Emma said.

Gold’s gaze drifted over the room as he holstered the weapon. “It appears I’ve been robbed.”

“Funny how that keeps happening to you,” Emma said with a wry tilt of her head.

“Well, I’m a difficult man to love.” Their weapons lowered almost in unison, the tension simmering but not gone.

---

(Enchanted Forest)

The towering silhouette of Rumplestiltskin's castle loomed against a twilight sky, its jagged spires piercing through curling clouds like the claws of some ancient, sleeping beast. Snow blanketed the forest beyond the stone ramparts, but within the castle walls, the air held no warmth. The dark magic that coursed through its halls crept along every surface like ivy, and the glow from the torches lining the corridor flickered in uneasy patterns. Belle followed silently behind Rumplestiltskin as he led her deeper into the fortress. Her steps echoed off the cold stone, her breath catching in her throat with each turn through the maze of dimly lit hallways. 

The corridor narrowed as they reached a heavy, iron-bound door with thick bars. "Where—Where are you taking me?" she asked, trying to keep the quiver from her voice.

"Let's call it... your room," he replied with a dark chuckle.

"My room?"

"Well, it sounds a lot nicer than 'dungeon'," he said as he opened the door with a grating creak and gestured her in.

The chamber beyond was bare and cold. Straw scattered across the stone floor served as the only bedding. A lone wooden table stood beneath a small, barred window. Belle stepped inside, her heart pounding. The door slammed shut behind her, the lock sliding home with a final click. "You can't just leave me in here!" she cried out, running to the bars. "Hello!? Hello?!"

Her voice echoed down the corridor, but no reply came. She was alone.

Time passed. How long, Belle couldn't be sure. The days bled together in a haze of chores and silence. One afternoon, light filtered faintly through the stained-glass windows in the eastern wing, casting colored pools onto the floor. Belle entered with a silver tray of tea in trembling hands. Rumplestiltskin was seated at a long, warped table covered in scrolls and enchanted trinkets. The ever-spinning wheel in the corner hummed with magic. "You will serve me my meals, and you will clean the Dark Castle," he said, watching her closely.

"I-I understand," Belle replied softly, setting the tray down.

"You will dust my collection and launder my clothing."

"Yes."

"You will fetch me fresh straw when I am spinning at the wheel."

"Got it."

He leaned back with a smirk, "Oh, and you will skin the children I hunt for their pelts."

The teacup slipped from Belle's hand and clinked against the floor. Her eyes widened, panic rising. "That one was a quip. Not serious," he said with amusement.

"Right," Belle replied quickly, dropping to her knees to retrieve the cup. "Oh... my. I'm so sorry but, uh... it's... It's chipped. You-you can hardly see it."

She held it up for him to see. For a moment, Rumplestiltskin said nothing. Then, gently, he took the chipped cup from her hand. "Oh, it's just a cup," he murmured, though he didn’t discard it. Instead, he placed it on a shelf by itself—separated from the rest, as if it held some strange, newfound value.

Belle watched him with a mixture of caution and curiosity. There was something different in his eyes, behind the riddles and twisted smiles. Something wounded. Something... human. And though the castle remained cold and haunted, a spark had ignited—small, fragile, but real.

---

The days passed slowly, with silence and duty filling the vast halls of Rumplestiltskin’s dark castle. Belle, ever curious, began to move beyond simple compliance. Though her days were filled with cleaning, serving meals, and tending to the more mundane tasks of the castle, she found herself increasingly intrigued by the man whose name was synonymous with fear. In the great hall, where shadows danced across ancient stone and the faint creak of the spinning wheel filled the space like a heartbeat, Belle climbed a ladder by the tall, dust-covered windows. Outside, the promise of spring brightened the skies with pale gold light, trying to break through the grime of years-long neglect.

Below her, Rumplestiltskin sat hunched over his wheel, his gnarled fingers expertly feeding straw through his fingers, turning it effortlessly into gold. The rhythmic whirl of the wheel faltered when Belle's voice, light and curious, broke the silence. “Why do you spin so much?”

He paused. The wheel slowed to a stop. “Sorry,” she added quickly. “It’s just… you’ve spun straw into more gold than you could ever spend.”

A brief shadow crossed his face, but then a faint, cryptic smile curled his lips. “I like to watch the wheel. Helps me forget.”

“Forget what?”

“I guess it worked.”

He let out a dry, unexpected laugh. Belle blinked—then laughed softly in return. For a moment, the air in the castle felt lighter, less suffocating. Rumplestiltskin rose from his stool and wandered closer to her. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Opening these,” Belle said, tugging at the thick curtains. “It’s almost spring—we should let some light in.” She pulled again, straining. “What did you do, nail them down?”

“Yes.”

Belle glanced down at him with a raised brow before giving one final, determined yank. The curtain shifted—but the ladder wobbled beneath her. With a gasp, Belle slipped. Before she could hit the cold stone floor, Rumplestiltskin caught her, his hands firm at her waist. The sudden closeness stilled them both. For a second, neither spoke. Their eyes locked—hers wide with surprise, his unreadable but softened. There was something tentative in the space between them, fragile as spun gold. “Um… thank you,” Belle whispered.

He cleared his throat and quickly set her back on her feet. “It’s no matter.”

She reached out to gather the fallen curtain. “I’ll, uh… put the curtains back up.”

Rumplestiltskin turned back toward the wheel, voice oddly gentle. “There’s no need. I’ll get used to it.”

Belle blinked, then smiled. The light spilled in a little stronger now, casting long golden stripes across the stone floor. The Dark Castle, for the first time in years, felt less like a prison and more like a place where something new might grow.

---

(Storybrooke)

The tension hung thick in the air, the kind that lingered like smoke after a fire. Mr. Gold stood in the dimly lit hallway of his home, his expression unreadable as he calmly faced Sheriff Swan. The ornate decor around them—heavy velvet curtains, gilded mirrors, and shelves filled with ancient, dusty trinkets—only deepened the uncanny sense of control he exuded. “Sheriff Swan,” he said coolly, “you can go now. I know exactly what was taken… and who did it. I've got it from here.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t. This was a robbery, public menace—and if you don’t tell me what you know, I’ll have to arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

Behind her, Harry stood just inside the threshold, arms folded across his chest, Toothless the wolf at his side with ears perked and alert. The black-furred animal gave a quiet huff, sensing his master’s growing irritation. “I have a feeling you don’t want to be behind bars,” Emma added.

Mr. Gold smiled, tight, knowing. “Indeed not.”

“Then start talking.”

Gold let out a theatrical sigh, like he was humoring a child. “Alright… his name’s Moe French. He sells flowers, and he recently defaulted on a loan. A short time ago, we had a little… disagreement over collateral.”

Emma raised a brow. “Collateral?”

“He lost a delivery van full of roses. Rather timely, wouldn’t you say?” He chuckled to himself. “Valentine’s Day really brings out the sentiment in people.”

“Okay,” Emma said, her tone clipped as she reached for her radio. “I’ll go get him. Check him out.”

Gold gave her a lingering look as she turned to leave. “I’m sure you will… assuming I don’t find him first.” His tone darkened. “Let’s just say, bad things tend to happen to bad people.”

Emma stopped in the doorway. “Is that a threat?”

“Observation.”

She gave him one last glance of warning before stepping outside. As the door shut behind her, Harry remained. Gold tilted his head, curious. “Staying behind, are we?”

“Yeah,” Harry said evenly. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t go looking for revenge while she’s out doing her job.”

Toothless growled low, standing between Gold and the door. Gold’s smile thinned. “You really think you can stop me, boy?”

Harry’s voice didn’t waver. “No. But I think if you make one wrong move, everyone in this town is going to know exactly what kind of man you really are.”

There was a beat of silence. Gold studied him, something almost amused flickering in his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said at last, stepping back into the shadowy parlor. “Then again… perhaps they already do.”

Toothless let out a warning bark. Harry kept his eyes on Gold as he moved to the window, watching Emma’s cruiser pull away. He didn’t say a word. But he didn’t need to. He was watching. And that was enough for now. After Emma left, the room settled into a strained quiet. Gold wandered over to a glass cabinet, pretending to dust while glancing occasionally at Harry, who remained standing near the entrance. Toothless lay at his feet, watching Gold’s every move like a shadow ready to strike. “So you just took Moe’s van before Valentine’s Day, and now he’s stealing from you as payback?” Harry asked.

“The terms of the loan were clear.” Gold stated. 

“I think you’re the kind of man who hides behind contracts and charm,” Harry replied, “because you’re scared of what happens when people see who you really are.”

For a moment, the civility slipped. Gold’s face tightened. Then the mask returned. “You may find,” he said silkily, “that seeing who I really am is the last thing you’ll want.”

Harry didn’t flinch. “Just don’t make Emma regret trusting you.”

With that, he whistled softly. Toothless stood, alert and silent. The two walked out, leaving Gold alone with his polished lies. The cluttered desk of Sheriff Swan looked like a magical hurricane had hit it. Trinkets, silverware, strange baubles, and antique oddities were spread across it—Mr. Gold’s stolen possessions. Emma stood behind it, looking exhausted but victorious as Mr. Gold strolled in like he owned the place. “You’re welcome,” she said dryly, gesturing to the loot. “You were right. Your man Moe ripped you off. It was all still at his place.”

Gold’s expression was unreadable as he scanned the items. “And the man himself?” he asked without looking up.

“Closing in on him,” Emma replied.

“So… job well half-done, then.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “In less than a day, I got it all back. Is something wrong?”

Gold finally looked up. “You’ve recovered nothing. There’s something missing.”

Emma’s patience visibly thinned. “I’ll get it when I find him.”

Gold took a step closer, the air chilling just slightly. “Not if I find him first.”

At that moment, Harry entered the station, Toothless trailing behind him like a silent guardian. He looked between the two adults. “Gold,” he said with quiet warning, “we talked about this.”

Mr. Gold smiled faintly, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “We did. But I’m afraid some debts can’t be settled with words.”

Harry turned to Emma. “If we don’t find Moe soon, he’s going to. And it’s not going to end well.”

Emma frowned, grabbing her keys from the desk. “Then we'd better find him first.”

Toothless growled softly. Emma glanced at Harry. “You coming?”

Harry nodded. “Always.”

They left the station together, leaving Gold in silence—his smile gone now, his eyes locked on a single gap in the loot pile. One item was still missing. And that… was the only one that mattered.

---

(Enchanted Forest)

Dark stone walls surrounded Belle like a sleeping forest—cold, winding, and too silent for comfort. The interior of Rumplestiltskin's castle remained largely cloaked in shadow, with only the flicker of torches giving life to the rich tapestries and towering shelves. Belle moved through the corridors with quiet familiarity, her footsteps muffled by centuries-old rugs. She found him in the main hall, seated at the spinning wheel, his fingers deftly working the straw, turning it into gold that glinted like sunlight trapped in thread. The wheel spun and spun, rhythmical and endless, a lullaby that numbed the mind.

Belle hesitated near the archway before speaking. “Why did you want me here?”

Rumplestiltskin did not look up. His voice was sharp but laced with something gentler. “The place was filthy.”

Belle took a step closer, not convinced. “I think you were lonely. I mean, any man would be lonely.”

“I’m not a man.”

The quiet that followed was heavy. Belle’s eyes searched the room as if it held answers. Her gaze lifted toward the high-arching staircase. She had spent months now within these walls. She knew the layout, the dust patterns, the peculiar creaks in the floorboards. But what lingered most were the glimpses of things once used—child-sized clothing folded on shelves, now long abandoned. “I’ve had a couple of months to look around, you know,” she ventured. “And, uh, upstairs, there's, uh, clothing. Small, as if for a—a child? Was it yours or… or was there a son?”

The spinning stopped. Rumplestiltskin’s back stiffened. “There was,” he said quietly. “There was a son. I lost him, as I did his mother.”

Belle’s breath caught. “I’m… I’m sorry. So you… You were a man, once. An ordinary man. If I’m never going to know another person in my whole life, can’t I at least know you?”

He turned to her slowly. His expression twisted slightly, more in mockery than sincerity. “Perhaps… perhaps you just want to learn the monster’s weaknesses!” he sang, making mocking faces. “Nyah, nyah! Nuh, nuh nuh!”

Belle, startled, stood her ground. “You’re not a monster. You think you’re uglier than you are. That’s why you cover all the mirrors up, isn’t it? Hmm?”

Just then, a loud knock echoed through the chamber. Rumplestiltskin spun around and moved swiftly toward the great door. With a casual flourish, he pulled it open. Standing tall in armor was Sir Gaston, flushed with fury. “I am Sir Gaston, and you, beast, have taken—”

Before he could finish, Rumplestiltskin flicked a finger. In an instant, Gaston transformed into a rose, elegant and silent. The door slammed shut. Belle blinked, stunned. She stepped forward. “Who was that?”

Rumplestiltskin turned, already walking back toward her with the rose in hand. “Just an old woman selling flowers.” He held out the bloom. “Here. If you’ll have it.”

Belle accepted it carefully, touched by the gesture. As the conversation lingered, she moved to a table in the corner, taking a pair of delicate scissors and trimming the rose. She placed it lovingly into a vase, setting it down gently beside a candlestick. “You had a life, Belle. Before… this. Friends, family. What made you choose to come here with me?”

Belle didn’t answer at once. She glanced out one of the curtained windows, where faint daylight tried to press through. “Heroism. Sacrifice,” she said at last. “You know, there aren’t a lot of opportunities in this land for women to show what they can do. To see the world, to be heroes. So, when you arrived, that was my chance. I always wanted to be brave. I figured, do the brave thing, and bravery would follow.”

Rumplestiltskin tilted his head. “And is it everything you hoped?”

She gave a small, crooked smile. “Well, uh… I did want to see the world. That part didn’t really work out. But, uh, I did save my village.”

“And what about your, uh… betrothed?”

Belle’s face turned thoughtful. “It was an arranged marriage. Honestly, I never really cared much for Gaston. To me love is—love is layered. Love is a mystery to be uncovered. Yeah, I could never truly give my heart to someone as superficial as he.” She paused, then gently placed a hand over her chest. “But, um, you were going to tell me about your son.”

Rumplestiltskin looked at her for a moment, then nodded once. “I’ll tell you what… I’ll make you a deal. Go to town, and fetch me some straw. When you return, I’ll share my tale.”

Belle blinked in surprise. “But… town? You trust me to come back?”

“Oh, no. I expect I’ll never see you again.”

The road to town was lined with bare trees, their branches clawing at the overcast sky. Belle walked briskly, an empty basket swinging from her arm. Her boots crunched softly on frost-kissed earth. Her breath fogged as she exhaled, her thoughts spiraling—of straw, of sons, of curses she hadn’t yet spoken of. Behind her, the rumble of wheels signaled a carriage. It rolled up beside her and slowed. A window was unlatched, and a familiar, wicked face peeked through. “Did my carriage splash you?” the Evil Queen asked with mocking grace.

“Oh. Oh, no, I’m—I’m fine,” Belle replied, startled.

“I’m tired of riding. Let me stretch my legs and walk with you for a spell.”

The Queen stepped from the carriage, her cloak billowing, and the two women walked along the path, the ornate carriage slowly trailing behind. “You carry very little,” the Queen noted.

“I don’t want to be slowed down.”

“Mmm. You’re running from someone.” A smile curled on the Queen’s lips. “The question is, master or lover?” Belle didn’t reply. “Oh. Master and lover,” the Queen concluded.

“I might take a rest. You—you go on ahead.”

The Queen didn’t stop. “So, if I’m right, you love your employer, but you’re leaving him.”

Belle hesitated. “I might love him. I mean, I could, except… something evil has taken root in him.”

“Sounds like a curse to me,” the Queen replied slyly. “And all curses can be broken. A kiss born of true love would do it.”

Belle stopped in her tracks, heart pounding. The Queen laughed softly, continuing ahead. “Oh, child, no. I would never suggest a young woman kiss a man who held her captive. What kind of message is that?”

“Right,” Belle said quietly.

“Besides, if he loves you, he would’ve let you go. And if he doesn’t love you, well then, the kiss won’t even…”

“He did let me go,” Belle interrupted, more to herself than the Queen.

“Yes,” said the Queen, not missing a beat, “but no kiss happened.”

“And a kiss—a kiss is enough? He’d be a man again?”

“An ordinary man. True love’s kiss will break any curse.”

As the Queen’s words hung in the air, Belle stared ahead, lips parted as though caught between fear and longing. The road stretched on, but her heart had already begun turning back.

---

(Storybrooke)

The neon sign of Dark Star Pharmacy buzzed faintly in the crisp air of the Storybrooke night. Inside, the warm, fluorescent lighting bathed the shelves of medicine, seasonal candy, and floral display in a stark glow. The quiet hum of late-night shoppers was broken only by the soft shuffle of feet and the occasional clink of a shopping basket. David Nolan stood in front of a rack lined with Valentine’s Day cards. His brow furrowed in deep concentration as he picked up one card, read it, and then picked up another. His fingers lingered between two options—both sweet, both fitting. One more sentimental, the other quietly romantic. 

He couldn't decide which version of his heart to share. Just ahead of him in line stood Mr. Gold, calm and still, holding a single, small purchase in his hand. Gold’s eyes flicked back casually and caught David’s indecision. A dry smirk touched his lips. “Two Valentines,” Gold observed smoothly. “Sounds like a complicated life.”

David glanced up, startled, then chuckled. “Oh, no, I—I just couldn’t decide.”

“These are both for the same woman?” Gold asked, voice edged with amusement and something colder beneath.

“Well... they’re both so... us,” David said, his smile waning into something more uncertain.

“I see.” Gold nodded slowly. “Well, you’re fortunate you have someone who loves you.”

David looked down at the cards, his smile softening with reflection. “I really am.”

Gold’s tone shifted then—more somber, more distant. “Love. It’s like a delicate flame. And once it’s gone... it’s gone forever.”

David, sensing the heaviness in the words, gave a quiet, awkward nod. “Best of luck to you,” Gold finished before stepping up to the register.

From outside the shop, Harry Jones crouched behind the hood of a parked car, bundled in his jacket, one hand resting on Toothless’s thick black fur. The large wolf crouched low beside him, completely still, watching through the pharmacy window. Harry’s breath clouded in the chill as he whispered, “That’s definitely not just Valentine’s Day blues. He’s up to something.”

Toothless gave a soft huff in agreement, ears perked forward. They remained hidden as Gold paid and exited the store. Harry and Toothless ducked low, slipping into the shadows between buildings. Gold walked briskly down the street, turning a corner and disappearing from view. Seconds later, Harry’s keen ears picked up the low rumble of an engine—an old delivery truck starting up. “Come on, boy,” Harry whispered. “Let’s find out what he’s really planning.”

Gold’s vehicle—a flower delivery truck with Game of Thorns stenciled along its side—crept through the outskirts of Storybrooke, far from Main Street and its glow. Hidden among thick trees and empty back roads, he drove in eerie silence. In the back of the truck, Moe French sat tied and gagged, his terrified eyes wide with confusion and fear. They reached the edge of the woods. An old abandoned cabin sat hunched in the darkness, long since forgotten by the rest of the town. Gold parked, killed the engine, and stepped out into the cold, lantern in hand. 

He moved with calm purpose, opened the back of the truck, and beckoned Moe down with a curt nod and the barrel of a pistol. “Walk,” he said sharply.

Moe obeyed, struggling with each step as ropes bound his wrists. The cabin door groaned as Gold pushed it open. Inside, it was cold and dank—dust motes hung heavy in the air, and the only light came from Gold’s lantern, casting crooked shadows on the walls. Gold shoved Moe forward and closed the door behind them with a final click. He raised the gun, his voice even but laced with venom. “Now, you see, here’s the thing—I don’t normally let people get away.”

Outside, among the trees, Harry crouched behind a moss-covered log, watching through a crack in the cabin's siding. Toothless lay beside him, growling low and quiet, sensing the danger inside. Harry narrowed his eyes and whispered under his breath, “Whatever debt Moe owed him... this isn’t about money anymore.”

The cabin smelled of rot and dust, wood long damp from forgotten storms, walls heavy with silence and mildew. The weak moonlight bled through the grimy windows, casting warped shadows across the floor. A single, rusted lantern dangled from a ceiling beam, swaying faintly as if reacting to the growing storm both outside and within. Inside, Moe French stood trembling—his hands bound in front of him, his shirt soaked with sweat and fear. Mr. Gold’s breath came slowly and deliberately as he set the pistol down on the scarred table beside them. 

He turned and grabbed a battered wooden chair, dragging it across the floor with a teeth-gritting screech. Then he sat, cane still in hand. Moe’s lips trembled. “Let me explain. Okay?”

Gold’s tone was ice. “Oh.” He leaned forward, tapping the end of the cane against Moe’s sternum until it pressed against his throat. “Well, that is… fascinating. Truly fascinating.”

Moe gagged slightly as the pressure increased. “I’m going to let you breathe in a second,” Gold continued, voice flat and deadly. “And you’re going to say two sentences. The first will tell me where it is. The second will tell me who told you to take it. Do you understand the rules?”

Moe nodded frantically, voice tight. “Yeah.”

Gold pulled the cane back. “Good,” he said smoothly. “Let’s begin.”

Moe gasped for breath. “I—I needed that van.”

Gold sighed, head tilting slightly, a venomous smirk crawling across his face. “Ah… ta, ta, ta, ta.” The words came slowly, like a cruel lullaby. “Now, you see, that is not a good first sentence.”

With no warning, he lashed out—the cane cracked across Moe’s shoulder with a thud that echoed through the cabin. “Agh! Gold, listen!”

“Tell me where it is!” Gold shouted and struck him again.

Moe buckled but stayed upright. “Stop! Please!”

Gold’s eyes were wild now, the storm within breaking through. “Tell me where it is!” Another strike.

Moe cried out, stumbling against the table. “It wasn’t my fault!”

Gold’s voice dropped to a gravelly growl. “ My fault ? What are you talking about, ‘my fault’? You shut her out.” He stood now, towering over Moe. “You had her love, and you shut her out!”

The cane cracked again—this time across Moe’s ribs. The florist collapsed to his knees with a gasp. “She’s gone!” Gold screamed, eyes shining with unshed tears. “She’s gone forever! She’s not coming back—and it’s your fault!”

Blow after blow followed each sentence, each word punctuated by the sickening sound of wood on flesh, of fury on helplessness.

“Not mine!” Whack!

“You are her father!” Whack!

“Yours!” Whack!

“It’s yours!” Whack!

“It’s your fault!”

And then, CRACK. The sound of something foreign. Gold's cane froze mid-air, caught tightly in Harry’s gloved hand, the blow halted inches from Moe’s already bruised face. “Stop!” Harry’s voice cut through the rage like a blade through smoke.

Toothless snarled low, stepping between Gold and Moe, hackles raised, glowing eyes narrowed into slits of warning. His muscles were coiled like a spring, ready to pounce at the slightest twitch. Gold froze, his breath ragged, his face flushed with a mix of shame, heartbreak, and rage. His hand trembled on the cane as he slowly let go, and it fell from his grip, clattering to the wooden floor with a metallic clang, loud and final like a gavel’s strike. For a moment, the room held its breath. Moe wheezed against the table leg, clutching his side and trying to steady his gasping lungs.

Gold stood like a statue in the shadows, all the wrath drained from his face—only a husk of guilt left behind. Harry stepped closer, his voice quieter now, but still firm. “You want to talk about grief? Fine. But you don’t get to beat it into people. You don’t get to burn the world down because you’re hurting.”

Gold didn’t respond. His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. The fire behind his eyes had died, replaced with something hollow, something shattered. Toothless turned back to Moe, sniffing his side gently before nudging his arm as if to ask if he could stand. Harry knelt beside Moe, easing his weight off the floor and checking for broken ribs. Then he reached for his phone. “Emma,” he said sharply. “I need an ambulance. Now. Send it to the cabin north of Dove Trail. Moe French has been assaulted.”

There was a beat of silence as Emma responded on the other end. “No,” Harry added, eyes flicking toward Gold. “I’ve got it handled.”

And in that crumbling old shack—where grief had festered into fury, and fury into violence—something else finally began to stir: Silence. Regret. And a wolf’s steady breath, standing guard between man and monster.

---

(Enchanted Forest)

The cold light of morning filtered through stained glass high in the turrets of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. Below, in the gloom of the grand hall, the shadows trembled and swayed as the firelight flickered against the stone walls. From the high windows, Rumplestiltskin watched, pacing with mounting tension. His eyes never left the twisting road beyond the forest line, where every branch or breeze could be the shape of her returning. Then—movement. A familiar silhouette emerged through the low mist, her stride steady, basket cradled in her arms. Belle. Relief flashed across Rumplestiltskin’s face, but he spun away from the window and hurried down the winding stairs. 

By the time she stepped through the castle doors, he was back at his wheel, feigning indifference, the straw already caught in his fingers. “Oh, you’re back already. Good. Good thing. I’m, uh… I’m nearly out of straw.”

Belle crossed the stone floor without hesitation, her expression unreadable but her eyes warm. She set the basket down beside him and tilted her head. “Hmm,” she hummed softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Come on, you’re happy that I’m back.”

He looked at her without meeting her gaze. “I’m not unhappy.”

The fire crackled quietly as she knelt beside him, her fingers gently removing the spun thread from his hand. Her presence was steady, grounding, her voice gentle but firm. “And, uh… you promised me a story.”

“Did I?”

With a subtle tilt of her head, she confirmed it with a knowing “Mm-hmm,” then settled beside him.

Her question was simple, but her eyes searched him with empathy as she asked, “Tell me about your son.”

He hesitated. His hands stilled. “Uh… I lost him. There’s nothing more to tell, really.”

Belle frowned. “And since then, you’ve loved no one, and no one has loved you.”

He leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. “Why did you come back?”

She looked at him then, and something in her softened. “I wasn’t going to. But then… something changed my mind.”

In that breath between silence and answer, her lips touched his. It was a kiss, brief but honest, fragile as spun gold. His eyes fluttered closed—and when they opened again, a strange shimmer broke across his skin. The greenish hue dulled. His face twitched as if it hurt. “Oh.” He whispered. “What’s happening?”

“Kiss me again,” Belle urged gently. “It’s working.”

“What is?” he asked in a voice suddenly human—unmasked, uncertain.

“Any curse can be broken.”

But something shifted. His face darkened, his brows pulled in. He stood up sharply, fury overtaking him. “Who told you that!? Who knows that!?”

Startled, Belle backed away. “I—I don’t know. She, uh… she—she—”

“‘She,’” Rumplestiltskin repeated darkly. He marched across the room and yanked the velvet cloth from a mirror. His glare pierced its depths. “You… evil… soul. This was you! You turned her against me! You think you can make me weak? You think you can defeat me?!”

Belle’s voice trembled. “Who are you talking to?”

“The Queen! Your friend, the Queen! How did she get to you?”

“I don’t—” Belle tried, but he cut her off.

“I knew this was a trick. I knew you could never care for me. Oh yeah. You’re working for her. Or is this all you? Is this you being the hero and killing the beast?!”

“It was working—”

“Shut up!”

“This means it’s true love!”

“Shut the hell up!”

“Why won’t you believe me?!”

His voice cracked, and the rage inside him exploded. “Because no one—no one could ever, ever love me!”

His hands clutched her arms as he shook her. Then, without another word, he dragged her down the corridor and threw open the door to the dungeon cell. Belle tumbled inside, landing hard on the cold stone. The heavy door slammed behind her, locking her in with the echo of heartbreak. Later, the silence of the castle was broken by crashing cabinet doors flung open and smashed, porcelain scattering like glass rain. Rumplestiltskin rampaged through the room, his cane crashing against shelves, roaring like a beast cornered. Tea cups shattered. Dishes crumbled. Vases burst. But as he reached for a familiar piece—a chipped porcelain cup—he stopped.

His fingers hovered, then slowly, reverently, he set it aside on the shelf with trembling care, as if even now, it mattered more than anything he could destroy. In the dungeon, Belle sat on the narrow cot, the silence around her as deep as the ache within. Her eyes were distant, heartbroken, but proud. Then, Rumplestiltskin entered. She looked up, her voice drained of hope but steady. “So… what are you going to do to me?”

He didn’t meet her eyes. He simply gestured toward the door. “Go.”

“Go?”

“I don’t want you anymore, dearie.”

Belle rose, straightening her dress with quiet dignity. She stepped forward, past him, but at the threshold, she turned, her words defiant and true. “You know, you were freeing yourself. You could have had happiness… if you just believed that someone could want you.”

He didn’t answer. “But you couldn’t take the chance.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s a lie.”

She stepped closer. “You’re a coward, Rumplestiltskin. And no matter how thick you make your skin, that doesn’t change.”

He glared at her, trying to summon a retort. “I’m not a coward, dearie. It’s quite simple, really. My power… means more to me than you.”

Belle’s face broke—not from surprise, but from sorrow. “No. No, it doesn’t. You just don’t think I can love you.”

Her voice cracked as she delivered her final words. “Now, you’ve made your choice. And you’re going to regret it. Forever. And all you’ll have… is an empty heart…” She paused, blinking tears. “…and a chipped cup.”

With that, she turned, leaving the cell, the castle, and the man she almost loved behind. Rumplestiltskin didn’t follow. He couldn’t. Not now. Not after breaking the only thing that ever tried to mend him. And when the silence returned to the castle, it echoed louder than before.

---

(Storybrooke)

The moon hung low over the trees, casting a pale, silvery glow on the remote stretch of woods just beyond the town line. The soft crunch of pine needles gave way to flashing red and blue lights as an ambulance idled outside the weathered frame of an abandoned cabin. The stillness of the night was broken only by murmured radio chatter and the sharp click of an ambulance door. Paramedics worked efficiently, lifting Moe French onto a stretcher. His face was bruised, his lip split, and he winced at even the gentlest touch. Emma stood to the side of the scene with her arms folded, watching the proceedings with a stony expression. 

Her badge glinted under the lights, but her eyes were locked on the man just a few feet away: Mr. Gold. Harry stood beside her, Toothless at his side, fur bristling slightly. The wolf had barely taken his eyes off Gold since they’d dragged him off Moe. Harry’s jaw was tight, his face unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders said enough. He didn’t like this. None of it. Emma finally broke the silence. “So I hear you managed not to break anything he needs,” she said, eyes flicking from Moe to Gold. “You’re lucky, Mr. Gold.”

Gold didn’t flinch. “You’ve got a funny definition of lucky.”

“And you’ve got a funny definition of justice.”

His face remained impassive, but something flickered behind his eyes—pain, perhaps, or bitterness. “He stole.”

Emma frowned. “That reaction was about more than taking a few trinkets. You said something about how he hurt ‘her.’ What happened to her? Who was she? What did he do?”

There was a long pause. Even the paramedics seemed to slow, sensing the tension thick in the air. Harry shifted slightly, watching Gold closely. “If someone needs help,” Emma continued, “maybe I can help.”

Mr. Gold turned his face away, eyes narrowing. “No. I’m sorry, Sheriff. I think you heard that wrong.”

“You really don’t want to cooperate, do you?” Emma said, her voice cooling.

Gold exhaled slowly, tiredly. “Look, we’re done here.”

He stepped to move past her, but Emma reached out, grabbing his arm with firm authority. “Actually…” she said, snapping a pair of handcuffs from her belt, “no. We’re not.”

The metal clinked into place around his wrists. “You’re under arrest.”

Harry stepped forward, backing her up. “You’ve got a lot to answer for, Mr. Gold.”

Toothless let out a low growl that rumbled in his chest like distant thunder. Gold glanced at them all—the deputy, the wolf, and the sheriff—then down at the cuffs now binding his hands. He said nothing. The stillness returned, but it was no longer peaceful. It was heavy. Dense with the silence of unanswered questions and the weight of memories too painful to speak aloud. The red and blue lights of the ambulance painted streaks of color over the abandoned cabin’s broken windows and rotting planks. Inside the sheriff's cruiser, the door stood open, waiting for Mr. Gold to be booked. 

The paramedics were still tending to Moe French, whose injuries—while not life-threatening—spoke volumes. Emma paced beside the cruiser, arms crossed. Her eyes were sharp, guarded. Harry leaned against the hood of the vehicle, Toothless seated dutifully beside him, ears twitching as he picked up every rustle in the trees. Emma finally turned to her deputy. “Alright,” she said. “Tell me everything. From the top.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. “I followed Gold after he left the pharmacy,” he said. “He was driving Moe’s delivery van. At first, I thought maybe he was just planning to confront him—yell, maybe threaten to call in the loan.”

“And?”

“He drove straight to this cabin,” Harry continued, voice darkening. “Dragged Moe out of the truck, tied up and gagged. Took him inside at gunpoint.” Emma’s brows furrowed. “I waited a few minutes before going in. Thought maybe it was just a scare tactic. But when I heard yelling and something break, I kicked the door in.”

Toothless let out a soft growl, as if agreeing with the memory. Emma turned back toward the ambulance, eyes narrowing. “Was Moe fighting back?”

“No,” Harry said immediately. “He was tied to a chair. Gold had a cane—he was using it. Not just hitting him. Screaming about how Moe had hurt ‘her.’ Over and over again. That it was Moe’s fault she was gone.”

Emma’s stance shifted slightly. She was trying to hide the concern behind her stern expression, but it was there. “‘Her’…” she repeated. “He never said a name?”

“No,” Harry replied. “But this wasn’t about a loan or flowers. This was personal. Deep.”

Emma exhaled slowly and looked over at Gold, now seated in the back of the cruiser. His head was bowed, face shadowed by the streetlight. She turned back to Harry. “He said I heard it wrong. That he didn’t mean what he said.”

Harry shook his head. “He meant every word, Emma. That wasn’t a show. That was pain. Old pain. The kind that’s been eating someone alive for a long time.”

There was a silence between them, only broken by Toothless’s soft huff of breath and the murmur of a paramedic on the radio. Emma finally nodded. “Thanks, Harry. For stepping in when you did.”

Harry gave a small smile. “Couldn’t just stand there and let someone get beaten to death, no matter what they did. That’s not justice. Not the kind you believe in.”

Emma looked at him, her expression softening ever so slightly. “That’s the kind we fight for.”

She closed the back door of the cruiser with a heavy clunk, the sound final. “Let’s get him to the station,” she said, turning toward her vehicle. “And maybe… we can finally figure out what—or who he’s been trying to bury all this time.”

Toothless padded ahead of them, ears alert, as the cruiser pulled out into the quiet road. And the shadows of the woods behind them kept their secrets a little while longer.

---

(Enchanted Forest)

The cold stone halls of Rumplestiltskin’s castle echoed with the soft rhythmic whirring of the spinning wheel. Its golden thread glinted faintly in the afternoon light filtering in through the dust-covered windows. Rumplestiltskin sat hunched over, fingers methodically feeding straw into the wheel, though his mind was far from the task. The spell of silence was broken as the heavy doors creaked open on their own—no knock, no request for entry. The Evil Queen strolled in with her trademark smirk, gliding across the floor as if she owned it. 

“Flimsy locks,” she mused, letting her fingers brush the wall. “I have a deal to discuss. A certain... mermaid.” She stopped at the table, casting a glance at the familiar chipped teacup.

“I’m not dealing today,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, barely looking at her.

“Oh,” the Queen crooned mockingly. “Are you angry with me? What is it this time?” She helped herself to a cup of tea, her every movement calm and calculated.

Rumplestiltskin’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Your little deception failed,” he hissed. “You’ll never be more powerful than me. You can keep trying, dearie… but you’re never gonna beat me.”

She tilted her head, sipping delicately. “Is this about that girl I met on the road? What was her name? Margie? Verna?”

He turned to face her, eyes burning. “Belle.”

“Right.” She chuckled, setting the cup aside. “Well... you can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy.”

His brow furrowed, and the spinning stopped. He rose slowly, each step deliberate. “What tragedy?”

The Queen’s red-painted lips curled. “You don’t know?” she cooed, savoring the moment. “Wow. After she got home... her fiancé had gone missing.” 

She strolled past him, fingers trailing along the edge of the table. “And after her stay here,” she continued, “her… association with you… no one wanted her, of course. Her father shut her out. Shunned her. Cut her off completely.”

Rumplestiltskin’s jaw clenched. “So she needs… a home?”

The Queen threw her head back with a short, cruel laugh. “He was cruel to her. Locked her in a tower. Sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying.” Her voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “After a while… she threw herself from the tower.” She smiled with mock sympathy. “She died.”

The silence that followed was deafening. “You’re lying,” Rumplestiltskin whispered, voice cracking.

“Am I?” she replied, her voice light, teasing. “Poor little Belle. And here you thought she could love you.”

A long pause stretched between them. Then Rumplestiltskin’s face hardened. “We’re done,” he growled, and with a flick of his hand, the massive castle doors burst open with a thunderous groan.

The Queen didn’t flinch. She placed her teacup down gently. “Fine,” she purred, strolling toward the exit, her heels echoing on the marble. “I have other calls to make.”

As she passed the table, she ran her fingers along its dusty surface, her parting words dripping with venom. “The place is looking dusty, Rumple. You should get a new girl.”

With that, she vanished through the doors. They slammed shut behind her. Silence returned. Rumplestiltskin stood rooted in place, staring at nothing. Then, with stiff movements, he crossed to a golden cabinet nestled in a stone alcove. He opened its doors and reached in, pulling out a single object—the chipped teacup Belle had broken on her first day. He looked at it for a long, breathless moment. Then, from the pedestal beside the cabinet, he removed a gleaming golden goblet—worth a king’s ransom—and set it aside. With reverent care, he placed the chipped cup in its place of honor.

He held it in his hands again. The smallest of imperfections… but it was hers. And then, the mask of power cracked. Rumplestiltskin fell to his knees. Tears carved silent trails down his cheeks as he clutched the chipped cup to his chest, the weight of loss too great to bear. Belle was gone. And in her place, all he had left… was an empty castle, a cursed heart, and a chipped cup.

---

(StoryBrooke)

The sheriff’s station was quiet the morning after Mr. Gold’s arrest. The storm from the previous night had passed, but its aftershocks still lingered in the air—unspoken tensions and things left unsaid. The scent of coffee and deli meat filled the room as Emma sat at her desk, chewing absently on half a pastrami sandwich. Across from her, in the holding cell, Mr. Gold sat on the cot, perfectly still, his hands folded in his lap. The chipped teacup he’d nearly killed a man over was gone from sight, but the weight of it lingered in his expression. Harry sat a few feet away on the edge of a desk, quietly flipping through an incident report from the night before. 

His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp—watching Gold out of the corner of his eye. Toothless, in his wolf form, was curled by the heater beneath the bulletin board, ears occasionally flicking at the smallest creaks and sounds. His watchfulness never wavered. Emma swallowed her bite and glanced over. “Pastrami,” she said, more to herself than anyone. “You want half?” she asked Gold, mouth still full. “You know, I still owe you that favor.”

Gold didn’t bother answering directly—just turned his head slightly and reminded her, calmly, that when he collected on that favor, it’d be for more than a sandwich. Emma rolled her eyes and smirked. Footsteps approached. Harry straightened instinctively. Toothless lifted his head. The front door opened, and in stepped Regina with Henry at her side. She looked immaculate, as always, her presence a cold gust of authority sweeping into the room. Emma blinked—caught off guard. She hadn’t expected Regina to bring Henry here of all places. She rose slowly, sandwich forgotten, eyes flicking from Henry to Regina, who offered a cool, deliberate expression. 

After a quiet exchange, Emma was given permission—thirty minutes with Henry, no more. A surprise, but not one Emma was going to question. Not now. Henry ran up, beaming. Emma pulled on her jacket. “Come on,” she said softly, glancing at Harry.

Harry stood up and nodded. “We’ll come too,” he said. “Grab something sweet.”

Toothless was already trotting toward the door. As the three of them—Emma, Henry, and Harry with Toothless trailing behind—stepped out into the chilly morning air, the energy inside the station shifted. Now it was just Mr. Gold... and Regina. She waited until they were gone before making her move, stepping toward the cell with her hands behind her back and her lips curled into a self-satisfied smile. Gold turned toward her like a man expecting a storm—and finding it.

She sat. Their conversation was slow, deliberate, like verbal fencing between two masters. She revealed her hand piece by piece. 

The truth unraveled in layers. She had orchestrated the theft. She had stoked the fire. And then she asked her price. His name. Gold didn’t flinch. He hesitated—but then he gave it. Rumplestiltskin. She smiled. Then, like a prize from a magician’s sleeve, she pulled out the chipped teacup—Belle’s teacup—the one he’d nearly beaten a man over. She dangled it, teasing him, until finally he snatched it with trembling fingers and brought it to his chest. A piece of his past. A wound made tangible. She turned to leave, but not before issuing one final challenge. From behind the bars, Rumplestiltskin watched her go, the chipped cup cradled in his hands. His fingers never left the tiny imperfection along the rim.

And far away, in a locked facility no one in town ever visited, Regina made her way down a silent corridor. A nurse in white answered her softly: No visitors. Not today. Not ever. She reached a plain door at the end of the hall. No name. No number. Just four sterile walls and a slot. Regina slid it open and peered inside. Belle. She was sitting on the edge of a narrow cot, bathed in cold light, staring up at the opening with dull eyes that barely recognized the figure watching her. Regina smiled. And then she slid the slot closed. Darkness returned to the cell.

Chapter 15: What Happened To Fredrick

In the Enchanted Forest, Prince Charming’s journey with Abigail took an unexpected turn. Both of them, bound by duty to a marriage neither wanted, chose honesty instead of obligation. Abigail admitted her heart lay elsewhere, with the knight Frederick, who had once been turned to gold by King Midas’s curse. She brought Charming to the statue, revealing her hope that he might be restored. Together, they ventured to Lake Nostos, where Charming faced its siren guardian and nearly succumbed to her illusions. In resisting her temptation and shattering her hold, he retrieved the magical water needed to undo the curse. Frederick was restored, reunited with Abigail, while Charming pressed onward in search of Snow White.

In Storybrooke, the weight of forbidden love settled heavily on David and Mary Margaret. Kathryn discovered their affair, and the pain of betrayal pushed her into public fury. At the school, Mary Margaret’s car was defaced, her reputation destroyed before the eyes of neighbors and children she once taught. Whispers spread quickly, leaving her and David ostracized by nearly everyone. Only Emma, with Harry and Toothless close by, remained steadfastly at her side. Harry offered quiet support, standing with Emma during the humiliation Mary Margaret endured, while Toothless shadowed her steps like a protective guardian. 

The bond between the little group deepened as the town’s judgment grew colder, and Henry too leaned into Harry’s comforting presence when his faith in heroes began to waver. Together, they shielded Emma and Mary Margaret from the worst of the fallout, a silent wall against the tide of gossip and hostility. Meanwhile, the mysterious stranger, August Booth, continued to circle the edges of the story. He repaired Henry’s book in secret, his true intentions hidden, and Emma’s suspicions grew. Harry and Toothless helped her follow August’s movements, quietly tracking him through the streets, sensing that he was part of something larger.

Yet all of this unfolded beneath the greater shadow of Regina and Mr. Gold. While outwardly they clashed, their games deepened, with secrets and leverage passing between them like poisoned gifts. In the sheriff’s station, Gold waited behind bars, clutching the chipped cup that was dearer to him than freedom itself. Regina smiled knowingly, her victory sharpened by the knowledge that Belle lived—hidden away where no one else could reach her. As dawn rose over Storybrooke, the fractures in trust and love were laid bare. In the Enchanted Forest, true love had triumphed, and Frederick had been restored. 

But in Storybrooke, love cost dearly: Kathryn was gone, Mary Margaret despised, and David adrift in guilt. Only Emma, Harry, and Toothless held the line, determined to protect Henry and Mary Margaret, even as the town turned its back. The game of power and secrets, however, was only just beginning.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Hook's Adopted Son