Chapter Text
The early morning haze clung to the streets of Storybrooke, softening the sharp edges of the buildings and muffling footsteps on the streets. Elena pulled her coat tighter against the cold, eyes fixed on the town hall ahead of her. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this place, but the dangerous hope was carried stubbornly in her chest. She couldn’t help but feel like she was twelve years old again – small, invisible, and bracing for disappointment. There was no clear plan, just a desperate hope that someone here might listen. The town didn’t look magical, not in any obvious way, anyway. It looked small, almost stuck in the past. It was the kind of place that pretended nothing bad ever happened, but Elena knew appearances rarely told the whole story.
Her fingers brushed over the necklace resting at her collarbone. She didn’t wear it for comfort anymore. It was more of a habit, and she wasn’t even sure why she still wore it. Her boots echoed off the wooden floor as she walked down the halls of the town hall. She hesitated, just long enough to consider running, before pushing open the heavy door to the office of Mayor Mills.
The door creaked slowly as she entered, the faint smell of old books and sweet apples wrapping around her like a quiet invitation. Her research had barely told her a thing about this town or its mayor. Elena just hoped that Regina Mills would have some answers and perhaps some desperately needed understanding. The Mayoress looked up briefly from her desk, her gaze briefly snagging on Emma’s blonde curls before returning to her papers. Her dark hair flicked around her shoulders, and she had a perfect posture, even in stillness, as if she had been born to balance a crown on her head.
“Can I help you?” Regina asked, voice even but firm.
“I…I’m new in town. I don’t really know how to explain it. I wasn’t sure who else to come to.”
Regina’s pen stilled. She looked up slowly, as though she were staring at a ghost. Her eyes narrowed.
“Storybrooke isn’t exactly on the tourist circuit. People don’t usually just… stumble in,” Regina said slowly, still not seeming sure of the girl.
“I didn’t stumble,” Elena said, straightening slightly, “I came here on purpose.”
“Why?”
“I’m looking for answers,” Elena hesitated, fingers nervously twisting the strap of her bag. “For…Family.”
“Families are complicated here,” Regina said with a dry smile. She leaned back in her chair. “Especially if you’re carrying secrets. Do you have names?”
“No. Just a feeling.”
“A ‘feeling’ brought you to Storybrooke?”
“It’s not the strangest thing to have ever happened here, is it?” This drew the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of Regina’s mouth. “Besides, sometimes a feeling is the only destiny you need.”
Regina stood and circled around the desk, approaching where Elena stood awkwardly in the centre of the room.
“You remind me of someone… It’s uncanny,” She studied Elena, who lifted her gaze, despite herself.
“Who?” Elena felt her pulse quickening.
“Emma. You’re like a reflection of her,” Regina said quietly, stopping in front of her. “You even sound like her a little.”
“Emma?”
“Yes. Emma Swan. My partner.” Regina’s eyes softened for the briefest moment. “You stand like her when you’re nervous. Jaw squared, trying to act braver than you feel.”
Elena was about to ask further questions, but she noticed how Regina’s gaze sharpened as something silver caught the light and her attention. She gently lifted the pendant and held it between her thumb and forefinger, noting the small swan in the centre.
“Where did you get this?” It came out as more of a whisper. Elena looked up at Regina, wondering if she had even heard her. Judging by the wide eyes staring back at her, she had.
“It’s the only thing I have from my birth mother. I was adopted soon after I was born. I was hoping it might lead me to her.”
“Do you know who your mother is?” Regina asked in a low voice.
“No, it was a closed adoption,” Elena admitted, looking down at the pendant. “I have… fragments. Feelings. Dreams.”
“What’s your name?”
“Elena.”
“Why come here? Why now?”
“I’m looking…” Elena paused, unsure how to explain things, “for answers to my dreams.” Regina raised a brow, but didn’t press. The pause wasn’t quite disbelieving, but it was certainly weighted. Elena was thankful that Regina seemed to accept her explanation.
Another pause. This time, Regina’s voice was softer but edged with something careful.
“Do you mind if I take this? Just for a little while.” Elena flinched instinctively, one hand rising toward the pendant.
“Why?”
“I need to show it to someone. If I’m right, “Regina said gently, “you’ve just upended everything we thought we knew.” There was a long moment where Elena weighed her options. “Please, you can trust me.”
It was that softness, not pleading but something gentler than she had expected, that tipped her. With a slow nod, Elena unclasped the necklace and handed it to Regina, who closed her fingers over the chain with care.
“Come,” Regina said briskly, already moving. Elena followed Regina to the fireplace, where she gestured to the couch. “Wait here. I need to speak with the Sheriff.” Elena nodded silently, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features as she took the offered seat. Elena felt like this might have been a bad idea. Despite this, she stayed put. There was something about this town, this woman, that felt like a fragile thread she could grasp onto. Regina turned and walked out the door, already pulling out her cell phone.
Chapter Text
Regina’s heels clicked sharply against the damp pavement as she crossed Main Street, one hand clenched tightly around the necklace in her coat pocket. The pendant felt heavier now, as though carrying the weight of memory. Her mind raced with a dozen possibilities, none of which made any sense.
It wasn’t just the necklace. It was the girl. Her posture. Her guarded stare. The way she spoke was like someone twice her age. The way she flinched when you got too close. It was haunting, like some kind of déjà vu. Regina hadn’t thought of it in years, unless she was thinking of the similar necklace Emma wore against her own chest. She had hidden the matching pendant long ago, slipping it from Henry’s hand during those early days in Storybrooke, hiding it away in a velvet box in her vault. And yet, here it was again. Not in the hands of her son, but around the neck of a strange teenager who looked…uncannily familiar.
Regina stepped through the doors of the sheriff’s station without knocking – she never did. Emma was bent over, picking up a dart that had failed to land on the board across from her desk.
“As usual, the town’s tax dollars are hard at work, I see,” Regina quipped. Emma glanced up, smirking. Until she caught the look on Regina’s face. Her brows furrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
Regina didn’t speak straight away. She just crossed the room, pulled the necklace from her pocket, and held it out by the chain. It swung slightly between them like a pendulum. Emma froze. Her eyes flicked to Regina’s, and then back to the pendant.
“I know this,” she said softly.
“You should,” Regina replied. “You gave it to someone a long time ago.”
Emma swallowed thickly. Slowly, she reached for the necklace, thumb brushing the edge of the silver swan, worn slightly from time.
“I gave them to both of them,” Emma confessed. Her gaze softened as she held the pendant. “It was stupid, probably. I just… wanted them to know I cared. That I wouldn’t forget them.”
“Both?” Emma nodded, eyes glassy as she looked at Regina.
“Henry had a twin,” Emma murmured. “ I gave them both up together. I just…wanted them to have a chance. A real one.” There was a long pause before Emma finally asked in a low voice, “Where did you get this?”
“I think you know.” Regina waited a beat, but continued when Emma didn’t react. “A girl came to my office this morning. She said she was looking for family – claimed to have had dreams about Storybrooke.”
“Dreams?”
“She didn’t say much more, but she looks like you, Emma,” Regina sighed. “Not just a little. Enough that I thought I was seeing double. Even the way she holds herself, the defiant spark in her eye—”
“Do you think it’s real?” Emma interrupted, looking back at the necklace. Her jaw was tensed. Regina lifted a brow.
“You’re asking me if magic is real? In this town?”
“No,” Emma snapped, then softened. “I mean, do you think she’s… mine?” Regina didn’t answer, instead placing a hand lightly on Emma’s arm and pulling her in to hold her for a moment, bathing in the sweet smell of cinnamon and vanilla. And coffee. There was always a faint aroma of coffee around Emma. Regina pulled back, holding Emma’s shoulders gently.
“Come see for yourself.”
Emma nodded, grabbing her leather jacket from the coat hook. She took Regina’s outstretched hand, locking the door as they left.
“Let’s just clarify, I do not have a defiant spark in my eye.”
“Of course, dear.”
oOo
Back in the Mayor’s office, Elena sat stiffly on the couch. Her fingers were laced in her lap as her foot tapped in a restless rhythm that echoed faintly against the tiles. She’d been waiting longer than she assumed she would have to. That usually meant bad news. She hated waiting.
The door opened, a rush of cold air entering from the hallway and making the flames in the fireplace shiver. She looked round, then stood. Regina entered first, stopping by the couch where Elena stood. Following her was a blonde woman with intense eyes and a red jacket. There was something about her that struck Elena and made her stand taller. It wasn’t familiarity, not yet. But this woman meant something, even before they both knew how or why.
“Elena,” Regina said calmly, “this is the Sheriff, Emma Swan.”
“Hi,” Elena said after a moment.
“Do you have a surname?”
“Pierce, although I’m not sure it really fits.”
Emma glanced toward Regina, something flickering across her face—a question not yet ready to be spoken. Her gaze swept over Elena, stopping, just for a fraction of a second, when it reached her face.
The resemblance was clear.
The girl’s hair curled in the same gold ringlets as Emma’s did when it wasn’t straightened. Her eyes were the same shade of particularly mixed gold and green, and her jaw was set in the same stubborn line that Emma often saw in the mirror when things got tough.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Same as Henry,” Emma said, turning to Regina, who nodded once. Emma turned back, trying not to stare but failing as she struggled to know what to ask. She looked as if she was trying to fit a thousand puzzle pieces together with no picture to guide her.
“You said you were looking for family,” Regina prompted gently. Elena nodded.
Emma hesitated. “Why here?”
“I don’t know,” Elena said, dropping her gaze. “I had these feelings and dreams. They just sort of… led me here.”
“And the necklace?”
“My adoptive parents said it came with me. They didn’t say much else.”
Emma’s expression hardened. “Where were you adopted?”
“Massachusetts, around Boston. Although I was born in Phoenix,” Elena clarified. “I’m just looking for answers, or some kind of direction.”
“What kind of answers?” Emma asked sharply.
“I don’t know,” Elena replied quickly, “Something. Anything.” The defensiveness in her tone made Emma tense, but Regina lifted a hand slightly, a subtle warning to Emma.
“Elena, we’re not trying to accuse you of anything,” Regina said, her voice careful and measured. “But you’re showing up here asking questions, looking like Emma—”
“Looking like her?” Elena raised a brow.
“You have her eyes,” Regina answered, softer now. “Her frustrated expression. Defensive stance. Need I go on?”
Emma studied Elena again. She wasn’t sure what she was seeing – a stranger, an illusion, or something frighteningly closer to home.
“We’re not that similar,” Emma concluded.
Elena shifted from one foot to the other. “You don’t have to believe me. I understand. I can leave – I don’t want to cause problems.” Regina stepped forward, resting a gentle hand on Elena’s shoulder. She felt a slight flinch as she touched Elena, and then as Elena relaxed slightly.
“I believe in strange things, Elena.” Her voice was soft, comforting. “Trust me, this isn’t the strangest.” Elena, still unsure, said nothing.
Before anyone could say anything further, the office door creaked open.
“Mom?” A boy’s voice called into the room.
“Yeah, we’re both here,” Emma called back, not taking her eyes off Elena. The boy came into view, closing the door behind him. He had dark, windswept hair and a backpack slung over one shoulder. His expression shifted from calm to confused as he saw the girl standing beside his mothers.
He stopped cold. Elena met his eyes and the room stilled around them. Henry’s voice was soft. Unquestioning. Certain.
“I know you.”
Chapter Text
“You’re real.”
Elena stepped forward slowly towards Henry. He dropped his bag to the floor with a loud thud.
“You’re from the bookstore in Boston,” he said. “Alice In Wonderland.”
“You had the last copy,” Elena smiled slightly, something softening in her chest. A thread of certainty pulled taut. “You gave it to me.”
Emma and Regina stood frozen in the background, watching their son and this girl, this mirror of their family, look at each other like the world had just clicked into place.
“Elena,” Henry whispered, his voice soft and almost reverent. Emma stepped forward, running a hand through her hair and rubbing her eyes, not knowing where to begin to pull apart this entire exchange.
“Wait a second,” she stopped and looked between the pair, taking a breath, “what do you mean you met before?”
“I thought I made him up, but turns out it was a memory”
“It was when we were living in Boston,” Henry added, turning to Emma. “After Pan’s curse, when we had those fake memories. I met Elena in a bookstore.”
Emma’s brows drew together. She blinked. “You never said anything.”
“I didn’t remember until just now,” Henry said with quiet certainty. “I didn’t think she was real either, I assumed it was one of the fake memories
“Okay, that’s enough,” Emma snapped, trying to pull the conversation back to something she could control. She turned to Elena, eyes narrowed. “What exactly do you want from us?”
Elena took a step back, folding her arms in front of her like a shield. “I didn’t come here to take anything. I just wanted to understand where I came from.”
“And we’re supposed to just believe that?” Emma’s voice rose, tight with fear and disbelief. She didn’t want this to be true. Not when it would hurt more if it was. “That you show up with a swan necklace and some dreams, and now you’re what – family?”
“Elena’s done nothing wrong,” Regina said, stepping between them and facing Emma, her voice cool and sharp. “Emma, take a breath.”
“I am breathing,” Emma snapped, though her chest rose and fell quickly.
“Mom,” Henry spoke up, more firmly now, “she’s not lying.”
“You don’t know that,” Emma shot back.
Elena straightened her spine. “I didn’t ask you to believe me. I’ve been lied to my whole life. I just thought maybe… someone here could be honest with me.”
The silence after her words lay heavily around them. Even the fire stopped crackling. Regina closed her eyes and took a deep breath before breaking the silence, her voice calm and clear.
“Why don’t we all take a break before we say something we regret?”
“Why are you defending me?”
Regina glanced at Elena with a steady, unreadable expression. “I know what it feels like to walk into a room and be treated like you don’t belong.”
Elena faltered. Her breath hitched – not enough to be obvious, but Regina noticed. No one had ever defended her like this before. Least of all someone she barely knew. The way Regina stood in front of her, not quite shielding but firm, made something twist in her chest.
Emma, meanwhile, looked utterly blindsided. “You’re siding with her?”
“I’m not picking sides,” Regina replied evenly. “I’m trying to stop this from becoming a shouting match.”
Regina turned, looking at Elena. “You don’t have anyone else to go to, do you?”
Elena shook her head slowly.
“Then come with us,” Regina suggested. “Stay at our house for the night. We’ll figure things out from there.”
Emma opened her mouth, eyes wide with disbelief. “Regina—”
“Emma. She is a teenager who is alone and scared. Whether or not she is ours, she came to us for help.” Regina looked at Emma, steady but not forceful. “You know what that feels like.” Emma’s jaw clenched. She turned her back slightly, running a hand through her hair.
“Fine. One night,” she muttered, turning away. Elena stayed silent, caught somewhere between confusion and relief. She didn’t understand why Regina was defending her. Regina simply nodded, hiding her satisfaction by moving to gather her things from her desk.
“Henry,” Emma added, still not looking at Elena, “you’re riding with me.”
Henry nodded but cast a lingering glance back at Elena as he followed Emma from the office into the chill of the late afternoon.
oOo
The living room was quiet except for the ticking of the grandfather clock and the faint clinking of a teacup in the kitchen. Regina had set Elena up in the guest room with clean sheets and a small plate with a thin slice of spiced apple tart. Cinnamon and clove lingered in the air, warming the frosty atmosphere.
“Apples?” Elena had asked. Regina gave a small smile.
“They’re… a thing of mine.”
“You didn’t have to do all this.” Elena studied the Mayor carefully.
Regina tilted her head. “Maybe not. But I wanted to.” Elena didn’t know what to say to that. Kindness always came with a price, except, here it hadn’t. She sat quietly on the edge of the bed as Regina stepped back to the door.
“If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs. Try to rest.”
“Thanks, Mayor Mills.”
Regina smiled slightly. “You can call me Regina.”
Regina had shut the door gently behind her, gone downstairs and poured a warming mug of tea. Emma hadn’t spoken more than a few words since they got home.
Now Emma stood alone on the back porch, arms folded tightly over her chest as she leaned against the railing. The night was cold and biting, but it didn’t bother her. Her thoughts were rushing. None of it made sense, and the parts that did were worse.
“Mind if I join you?” A soft voice came from behind.
Emma turned, surprised. “Mom?” Snow smiled gently and stepped out, hugging a shawl around her shoulders.
“I heard there was someone new in town. Regina filled me in when I stopped by.”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “She called you?”
“No,” Snow said. “But she didn’t hide anything either. She thought I should know and… I think she was right.”
“She’s already defending her.” Emma turned away, clenching her jaw. Snow hesitated.
“She’s protecting someone who’s vulnerable. That’s not a bad thing.”
“She doesn’t even know if Elena is really my—” Emma cut herself off as her voice threatened to give her away. She took a breath. “She just took her in like it was nothing.”
“She took you in once,” Snow softly reminded Emma. “And I think she sees something in Elena. Maybe something you don’t want to see.”
“She looks like me.”
“I know.”
“She might be mine. And I don’t know how to handle that.”
Snow stepped closer. “Emma—”
“I didn’t ask for this. I had to give them up. Both of them. And I moved on. I thought I’d made peace with it.” Emma’s voice cracked on the last word. Snow touched her daughter’s shoulder lightly.
“You never made peace; you just buried it. You’re thinking yourself in circles, Emma.”
Emma shivered slightly. She turned to face Snow finally, eyes red and raw. “What if I can’t do this? What if she’s just one more person I hurt?”
“Emma,” Snow didn’t flinch. “I know you’re scared. But you won’t, because you care. That’s more than enough.” She gave Emma a small, sad smile, brushing her hair back the way she wished she could have when Emma was younger. Emma didn’t answer. Her eyes flickered towards the house, landing on the window to the guest room. She then turned back to the dark yard, quiet.
“She has your stubborn streak, you know,” Snow added with a smile, joining Emma to look into the darkness. There was a faint glow as fireflies buzzed around the apple tree. “It’s kind of cute. From a distance.”
Emma let out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “Real cute.”
Chapter Text
The kitchen was quiet when Regina padded in, barefoot and already dressed, though her hair hadn’t yet been tamed into its usual polished waves and was instead tied in a short and messy ponytail. She liked the stillness of early mornings before the house woke up, before the coffee brewed and the voices rose. She didn’t expect anyone else to be up, but there was somebody already at the table.
Elena sat curled at the far end, knees drawn to her chest on the chair, sleeves pulled over her hands. A half-eaten apple sat on the placemat in front of her. Elena’s gaze flicked up only briefly before darting back to the window.
“You’re an early riser,” Regina said gently as she moved toward the counter. She didn’t ask why Elena was up – she could guess.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Elena’s voice was hoarse. “It’s quiet here.”
Regina nodded, pulling a kettle from the cupboard. “Quiet can be good. Sometimes it gives you space to think,” she said, opening the fridge and retrieving milk. “I used to sit there when I needed to think,” Regina added, nodding to the window that overlooked the garden. “Looking out like the answers were hidden in the clouds somewhere.”
“Any luck?”
“Occasionally,” Regina chuckled, “not always the answers I wanted, but clarity sometimes.” She didn’t press for Elena to speak.
“I keep thinking I should leave,” Elena said after a moment, eyes fixed outside.
“Do you want to leave?”
Elena didn’t answer straight away. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I’ve spent my whole life trying to feel like I belong somewhere, and now I’m here. In this town that I’ve dreamed about, with strangers who look at me like I’m some sort of ghost.”
There was a long pause. Regina set a tin of loose-leaf tea beside the stove, putting the now-full kettle on the stove to boil.
“I’m sorry if I’m making things harder,” Elena murmured, looking down at her hands and fiddling with her sleeves.
“You’re not,” Regina said calmly, glancing over. “And you don’t need to apologise for being here.”
“You haven’t asked me to leave.”
“That’s because I don’t think you should,” Regina replied. The kettle began to whistle. Regina took it from the heat, pouring the boiling water into a teapot and setting it to steep. The scent of cinnamon and cloves filled the air. “You asked for help. That takes more strength than most people think.”
“Most people would’ve slammed the door in my face.”
“Once, I might have.” Regina tilted her head as she thought. “People change. I changed because someone believed I could.”
Elena looked up, uncertain. “You don’t even know me.”
“No,” Regina agreed, offering the faintest smile as she placed cups and the teapot onto a tray. “but, I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong, and I know what it’s like to hope – to wish – that someone will give you a chance. You don’t have to trust me, not yet. Just know that this house is safe.” Regina promised, voice soft. “You’re safe.”
Elena didn’t say anything, but her expression softened. Regina walked over, placing the tray on the table between them. She poured out a cup of tea and placed it in front of Elena. Steam rose from it, shimmering in the orange rays of the early sunrise.
“Here,” she said matter-of-factly. “Something warm to take the chill from the morning.”
“I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me.”
Regina gave a small, wry smile, sitting at the table across from Elena. “Because I see something familiar in you. No one gets to choose where they come from, but sometimes, if they’re lucky, they get to choose where they’re going. You deserve the chance to figure that out.”
They sat in a comfortable silence. Elena took a sip of tea and felt the tension begin to unwind from her shoulders. For the first time since arriving, she didn’t feel like a trespasser.
Emma hovered near the doorway, coffee in hand, watching them with mixed feelings.
“Hey,” she said, stepping into the room. Regina smiled at her. “The back door was left open last night.” Regina’s smile dropped. Emma set her mug by the sink with slightly more force than she meant to. “I mean, it’s fine. Probably just a mistake. But, Elena, if you come back in, just make sure the doors are locked behind you. This isn’t Boston.”
Elena’s brows furrowed. “Okay.”
The room fell awkwardly silent. Regina looked between them. She then added milk to her tea with unnecessary precision as the air settled thickly around them.
Emma cleared her throat and turned back toward the hallway.
oOo
Later that day, the living room had been transformed into a mess of open comic books, blankets, and the low rumble of a fantasy video game. Elena curled up on the couch, eating pretzels, whilst Henry was intensely focused on the game.
“Left, Henry, left!”
“I know, I’m going—Why are you better at this when you’re not even playing?!”
“Because I watch the map instead of charging at dragons like they insulted your haircut.”
“Rude,” Henry laughed.
The rhythm between them never faltered. When one reached for a snack, the other handed it without asking. When a cutscene started, they exchanged a glance and simultaneously reached for their soda. At one point, Elena paused the game just as henry opened his mouth to suggest it.
“You were going to say you need a break.”
“I didn’t say it.”
“You didn’t need to.” She leaned back, studying the screen idly. “It’s like I know what you’re thinking before you do.”
“Yeah, it’s like some kind of mind link.”
“Like the Jedi?”
“Exactly,” Henry smirked. Elena threw a pretzel at him.
“Nerd.”
“Hey!” Henry feigned hurt.
“I had dreams about you,” Elena softly admitted. “I didn’t realise it was you at the time, though.”
Henry didn’t look away. He suddenly threw a pillow at her. “If you cry, I’m docking your XP.”
Elena grinned, catching it midair. “If I cry, it’s because you’re so bad at this boss fight.”
oOo
The days gradually passed, snow melting into frost-glazed grass. The sky remained stubbornly overcast. The town seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to shift. In the Mills-Swan household, things had fallen into a careful rhythm. Elena didn’t ask to stay longer, and Regina never told her to leave.
Regina kept her occupied with small, grounding tasks: stacking firewood in the woodshed, brewing tea the ‘old-fashioned’ way, chopping vegetables for stews. They read quietly in the evenings, Regina letting Elena borrow from the well-loved library shelves. Sometimes they would talk. Not deeply, not yet. But it was comfortable and made Elena feel more at ease.
“I used to grow herbs in the palace gardens,” Regina mentioned one afternoon, pressing her hand into the soft soil near the backyard fence. “Didn’t think I’d miss dirt under my nails, but… here we are.”
“What did you grow?” Elena asked, sitting beside her. Her own hands were stained with earth.
“Mint, lavender, sage. Mandrake, sometimes, but that’s another story.”
Elena raised an eyebrow. “Magical plants?”
“Of course. But magic needs more than roots and spells. It needs intention.”
There was a glint in Regina’s eyes. Elena didn’t quite understand magic yet, but she liked hearing about it. For once, someone wasn’t trying to fix her or tell her she was imagining things. Regina spoke to her like everything made sense.
Henry, meanwhile, had slipped seamlessly into older-brother mode. They shared the same sarcasm, dry wit, and habit of finishing each other’s thoughts. At breakfast, it was like watching a double-act comedy show.
“You’re telling me you broke your ankle falling out of a tree to rescue a raccoon,” Henry said over pancakes one morning.
“It was stuck!” Elena argued, sipping at her orange juice. “And it was a possum.”
“Still counts as questionable decision making.” They both reached for the syrup, squabbling over who had it first.
Regina, sipping her coffee, simply watched them with fond exasperation.
“That sounds just like Emma,” Regina mumbled, although the silence was deafening when the twins realised what she had said.
Emma had kept her distance.
She left early for the station. She lingered late in the car before coming inside. At dinner, she barely spoke unless Henry asked her something directly. Regina tried to soothe her when they went to bed, but Emma had withdrawn from her, so they lay in silence. When Emma tried with Elena, it always came out wrong – too clipped, too stiff. There were too many sharp edges between them.
On Friday evening, the overcast sky broke and rained down outside. Inside, another storm thundered around them, over something as mundane as the dishes.
“I said I’ve got it,” Elena snapped, scrubbing a plate with more force than necessary.
“You’ve ‘got it’ after putting them on the wrong side of the drying rack three times in a row?” Emma snapped back. “There’s a system.”
“It’s a plate, not a bomb.”
Emma threw the dishtowel down. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”
“Because you’re being impossible!” Elena threw the sponge into the sink, bubbles flicking across the side.
“You’re in my house—”
“So now I’m intruding?” Elena shot back, voice shaking. “Good to know.”
“I didn’t say that!” Emma barked, exasperated. She immediately regretted it. “El— Ellie—”
Elena froze. Her back straightened. “Don’t call me that.”
“I didn’t mean—” Emma’s voice had softened, the fight bleeding out of her.
“Don’t pretend you know me,” Elena said tightly. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes glassy but refusing to spill over. “You don’t. You gave me away. You’re not my—” Elena’s voice broke off, trembling.
In a second, she was gone. Emma heard the soft footsteps on the stairs and the door to the guest room clicking shut. Emma stood rooted in the middle of the kitchen, breathing hard. Regina gently crossed the room, picking up the dish towel. She stood and carefully looked at Emma.
“You called her Ellie.”
“I didn’t mean to. It just… slipped out.” Regina nodded, placing the towel on the hook and standing before Emma. She wrapped her arms around her. Emma melted in her embrace.
“I wonder if your mother could help.”
oOo
The next morning, Snow appeared on the front porch holding a basket of bulbs and gardening tools. Elena raised an eyebrow from where she sat on the steps, hugging her knees and cradling a mug of coffee.
“Are you seriously gardening in this weather?”
“I’ve gardened in worse,” Snow smiled. “Come help?”
Elena hesitated. Then shrugged and smiled. “Sure.”
They worked quietly at first, turning over the cold soil, planting bulbs with numb fingers. Snow hummed softly to herself, a tune Elena didn’t recognise but found oddly soothing.
“You know,” Snow said eventually, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “you’re more like Emma than you think.”
“Am not,” Elena scoffed.
“She’s stubborn. So are you.”
“Stubborn isn’t a personality.”
“No,” Snow agreed. “But it’s a start.”
“She yells.”
“So do you,” Snow replied without missing a beat.
“She hates me.”
“She’s scared,” Snow said. “Emma pushes everyone away when she’s scared.” Elena didn’t reply. “She’s also loyal, protective, and incredibly brave. And you? You came here with nothing but a necklace and a few dreams for clues. I’d say that’s brave, too.”
Elena blinked down at the dirt, covering a bulb. “I don’t feel brave.”
“You don’t have to feel it. Sometimes just showing up is enough.”
Elena looked over. Snow was watching her. Not judging or prying, just… being there. She handed Elena a small lavender.
“Here, plant this one,” Snow smirked. “It’s stubborn, like you.”
“I liked you in the storybook,” Elena said after a beat. “Henry showed me, to help me catch up.”
“Oh?”
“You seemed like the kind of mom who’d always know what to say.”
Snow smiled, but it held a trace of sadness. “I try, but I’m still learning.”
They worked until their hands were stiff from the cold, and the ground was full.
Later, they stood surveying the rows of bulbs. Snow handed Elena a mug of tea from the thermos.
“When spring comes,” she said, “these’ll bloom.”
“Seems like a long way off.”
Snow just smiled. “It always does, until it’s here.”
oOo
Dinner was quiet, but not uncomfortable.
The four of them sat around the table in the warm kitchen, the overhead lights casting a soft golden glow. The table was set simply with chicken stew, fresh rolls, and a salad that Regina insisted on garnishing with edible flowers. Henry had helped, mostly by sneaking croutons when he thought no one was looking. Elena had helped too, chopping herbs with surprising care.
Now she sat across from Emma, her shoulders slightly drawn but less tense than before. Emma passed her the salt without prompting. Elena blinked, then took it with a quiet word of thanks. Emma nodded. Regina watched over the rim of her wine glass, saying nothing. Her eyes softened for a moment.
“Is this from the garden?” Elena asked, pointing her fork at the salad.
Regina smiled. “Mostly. Snow gave us the calendula.”
“You should see the greenhouse,” Henry added. “There’s a tomato plant aided with magic that grows fruit shaped like—”
“Henry,” Emma cut in dryly. “Don’t scare her off with your enchanted produce obsession.”
“You’re just jealous you didn’t grow it.” Henry grinned.
Elena gave a small laugh. “I kind of want to see it now.”
Emma looked up, a small smile pulling at her lips. "You sure? He’ll talk your ear off.”
“I’ve survived watching him play video games, I’m sure it can’t be any worse.”
Emma huffed a tiny laugh.
Across the table, Regina reached for her glass again, brushing her fingers lightly across Emma’s hand in the process. Not a warning or command, just a touch. Emma didn’t flinch. She glanced at Regina, holding her gaze for a quiet moment charged with understanding. Henry looked between them, then at Elena, and looked down as he caught himself giving a satisfied smile.
For the first time with them all together, something like peace settled over the family. It wasn’t perfect. It was tentative and maybe a little fragile, but it was real. And for now, that was enough.
Chapter Text
The evening moonlight spilt across the kitchen tiles, silver and soft in a way that made the whole house feel like it was exhaling. The shadow of candles danced against the walls, contrasting the silver moonlight with their own warm, golden glow. Emma leaned against the doorframe, arms folded loosely, watching Regina rinse the final few dishes at the sink. The silence was companionable now, warmed by the scent of apple turnovers in the air from Regina’s post-dinner baking.
“She can stay,” Emma said suddenly. Regina paused, water dripping from her fingertips, and turned, brow raised.
“What?”
Emma looked down, then back to Regina, her voice steadier this time. “Elena can stay. Not just tonight, or for the weekend. For good…If she wants to.”
A long moment passed between them. Regina dried her hands on a towel and stepped closer.
“Are you sure?” she asked softly.
“No,” Emma admitted with a crooked smile, not quite meeting her eyes, “I’m not saying I understand everything. I’m still figuring things out, but I’m trying… And…I trust you. You see something in her. She’s scared and closed off and…” Emma trailed off, not quite wanting to finish her sentence. “Maybe she reminds me of myself when I first got here.”
Regina’s eyes softened. “That’s not nothing.”
“No, I guess it's not.”
Regina reached out, and Emma let her, leaning into the hand that softly cupped her cheek. The touch was warm, grounding.
“You’re doing better than you think,” Regina coaxed.
“I yelled at her about the dishes.”
“You also passed her the salt.”
Emma let out a soft laugh.
“Maybe I just have a good teacher,” Emma smirked. Regina leaned in and kissed her softly. When they parted, Emma stayed close, her forehead pressed lightly against Regina’s. Regina wrapped her arms around Emma, steady as always. They stood that way, swaying lightly in the hush of the kitchen. They held each other as if they were remembering how to breathe. All was still and calm.
“We’ve got her, and we’ll take care of her,” Regina whispered. “Together.”
Emma nodded. “Together.”
oOo
It began as a whisper.
The kind that slithered beneath the skin, colder than the frost against the windowpanes. Elena turned restlessly under the covers, a soft whimper escaping her lips.
Chains. Whispers. Shadows twisted around her in the mist. Pain. She was alone.
Elena murmured, kicking against the sheets. Her brow was furrowed, her body tense. The room darkened, a cold draft sweeping around her though the windows were shut tight. Her breath came in short gasps as her hands clenched the blankets.
Henry sat up straight, breath caught in his throat.
“Elena.”
He was out of bed in seconds, feet barely touching the floor. He didn’t knock, just burst in. She was curled tight, drenched in sweat, whispering something he couldn’t understand.
“Elena?” he said, softly but with urgency, “hey, it’s me. It’s Henry.” Elena gasped awake, bolting upright, eyes wide and pupils dark. Her body shook. She looked at Henry, but no words were said between them. Henry sat on the bed beside her and hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around her.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“They’re coming for me.”
“What?”
“I had a nightmare,” Elena murmured, holding tightly to Henry’s pyjama shirt.
“Elena, you need to tell Moms.”
“I can’t.”
Down the hall, a door had creaked open, and hurried footsteps followed. Emma was first, eyes sharp even in the dark. Regina tied her robe as she followed close behind.
“Can’t tell Moms what?” Emma asked, rounding the corner. They both froze in the doorway.
“Elena? What’s happened?” Regina said gently, rushing forward as she saw Henry holding Elena tightly. Emma hovered at the threshold, hands clenching.
“Elena had a nightmare. A bad one,” he said quietly. Elena trembled in Henry’s hold. “Elena, you have to tell them.” He felt as her head shook against his chest. Henry’s jaw tensed as he looked between Emma and Regina, then back to Elena. “Elena dreams things, and they come true. Every time.” He felt as Elena pulled away from him, looking with big, sad eyes.
“What?” Emma came closer, blinking rapidly.
“Elena? Is this true?” Regina crouched down, her voice low. There was a pause, then Elena shifted, turning to look briefly at Regina, studying her for a moment before turning to Henry.
“Second drawer down. You’ll recognise it.” Henry furrowed his brow, before they shot up in surprise. He reached towards the nightstand, opened the second drawer, and pulled out a small, battered, green notebook. The spine was frayed; the corners bent from years of use.
Henry thumbed at the edge before gently murmuring, “You kept it all these years.”
Elena took the book from him, taking a breath before passing it to Regina.
“When I met Henry before in Boston, I trusted him. I didn’t know why then. But I told him about my secret–my dreams. He told me to write them down.”
“Every single one.” The twins spoke in sync, sharing a small smile.
Regina carefully flipped through the pages of sketches, dates, and snatches of dreams. Some were crossed out, others were circled, and some she was sure she recognised as memories in her own life. There were names, symbols, and sketches of Storybrooke.
“God,” Regina breathed, “you’ve dreamt all this?” Elena nodded slowly.
Emma, who had been glancing over Regina’s shoulder, took a step back.
“Dreams don’t make it real,” she said, frowning. “Look, I get that dreams can feel real, but that doesn’t mean—”
Regina looked up sharply. “Emma—”
“I’m just saying—”
“She’s seen things, Mom. She’s seen all of us,” Henry turned to Elena, “haven’t you?” Elena didn’t answer. Henry turned back to Emma and Regina. “Think back to last week. Elena gave you batteries from her pocket when the remote wouldn’t work. Why else would she have been carrying batteries around?” As if to validate his point, Henry flipped to a page in the dream journal that Regina still held. Surely enough, there was a page dated six months ago with scrawls capturing the event where Emma found the battery power in the remote had gone. At the time, it had led to an argument – she blamed Elena for trying to prank her.
“Maybe that was just good timing—”
“Emma—”
“No, listen to me,” Emma insisted. “I’ve had my fair share of nightmares and visions. Hell, I’ve seen whole curses spun from dreams. It doesn’t mean they’re real.” Elena flinched.
“They’re real to her,” Regina said coolly. “And this is not about you.”
“I’m just trying to protect us.”
Regina exhaled softly and stood, putting a barrier between Emma and her daughter. “Emma, take Henry downstairs.”
Emma felt her chest tighten. “Regina—”
“Please.”
Emma’s mouth pressed into a thin line. She noticed how Elena sat trembling. She exhaled curtly and gave a sharp nod.
“Fine.”
Henry looked at Elena, clearly reluctant.
“You okay?” She gave him a faint nod. He followed behind Emma, shutting the door behind them. Regina placed the notebook on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. Elena stared at her hands.
“You’re going to say it’s okay,” her small voice was edged with nerves, “that it's just a dream. That I’m safe here.”
Regina paused. “No. I think you have something going on that I can’t fully understand. But I believe you.”
“You believe me?” Elena blinked.
“Yes.” Regina regarded Elena for a moment. “Do you want to tell me what you saw?” Elena hesitated.
Her voice, when it came, was small, and she didn’t meet Regina’s eyes. “It was dark. Cold. I felt like I couldn’t move. There were these…chains. I was lost.” Regina reached out, placing a soft hand on Elena’s.
“I’m so sorry, darling.” She took a breath. “I promise, we will do all we can to stop it from happening.”
“Don’t you get it?” Elena finally looked at her, eyes red and eyelashes wet. “You can’t stop the dreams. They’re not just symbols. They show things exactly as they happen. They can’t be changed. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Regina didn’t look away, didn’t flinch. Just gave a gentle squeeze with her hand. “Maybe you haven’t had anyone trying with you before.”
Elena’s lip trembled.
“You’re more than your dreams. You’re family, and we protect our own.” For the first time, Elena leaned into Regina, resting her head against Regina’s shoulder. Regina wrapped an arm around her and held her close. A sob escaped Elena before she could stop it.
“You’re not alone anymore.”
oOo
The house fell into silence.
Henry had fallen asleep on the couch with a blanket pulled up to his chin and the TV playing on low, some old black-and-white monster movie flickering across the screen. Emma had tucked him in without a word, then wandered to the kitchen like a ghost.
Now she sat at the table, hands wrapped around a lukewarm mug of tea she hadn’t touched. The lights were dim as silence pressed against her. She hated this feeling, this helplessness. She had spent her life fighting things she could punch, outwit, or outlast, but this? A crying kid with a battered notebook and terror in her eyes? This was harder. She thought of the drawings she had seen, the black ink scrawled across the pages as Regina had looked at the notebook. She noticed how Elena had flinched when she raised her voice. The way she had clung to Henry like he was the only solid thing in a world that kept shifting beneath her feet.
Emma rubbed her forehead. “Dammit…”
She hadn’t meant to hurt her more. She just couldn’t let herself believe that a dream could control their future. Because if it could… what did that say about her? What about all the times she had failed to stop something awful before it happened?
The floor creaked softly, and she looked up. Regina stepped into the kitchen, her robe loose around her shoulders.
“She’s asleep now,” Regina murmured, “finally.”
Emma nodded. “Good.”
Regina crossed to the counter, poured herself a glass of water, and leaned against the sink. She didn’t speak right away, and neither did Emma.
“You were harsh.”
“I know.”
“She’s terrified, Emma.”
Emma looked down. “I didn’t mean to push her.”
It was silent again. Emma broke the tense air.
“I messed up, didn’t I?”
Regina took a sip. “You were scared.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“No,” Regina agreed, “but it is the truth.” Emma looked down at her tea, noticing the odd tea leaves that had fallen to the bottom.
“I’m not used to this. I mean… It’s one thing when Henry’s in danger, or when there’s a clear villain to fight. But this girl…my daughter…” Emma took a breath. She realised she hadn’t said that word out loud before. “She shows up and just throws everything I thought I knew, everything I was used to, in such a different direction. And then she reveals this power, this curse, and I just don’t know how I’m supposed to fix it.”
“You don’t have to fix it,” Regina answered softly. Emma looked up. “You just have to be there, to stay.”
Emma’s throat tightened. “I didn’t believe her.”
Regina moved toward her, setting her glass down. She knelt beside the chair and reached to take Emma’s hand.
“I know,” she said, “but you can. You can try again and build her trust.”
“What if it’s too late to earn her trust?” Emma’s eyes burned, threatening to flow over.
Regina shook her head. “It’s never too late, not for you.”
“She told you more than she told me.”
“She needed someone soft tonight.” Emma flinched at Regina’s words. “I didn’t mean that as an insult, dear. It’s just… You didn’t exactly act very comforting. But I know you want to help her.”
“Every time I try, I say the wrong thing.” Emma’s voice cracked. “Or she looks at me like I’m someone else. Someone she wanted, maybe, but I’m not her.”
Regina’s voice was gentle. “She never expected you to be.”
“I stood there arguing tonight with a scared kid about whether or not her nightmares are real. That aside, I just don’t know if I can believe in the unchangeable fate of her dreams.”
“Magic will keep surprising you. Whether real or imagined abandonment, it’s our job to stand between her and whatever’s coming.”
A beat passed.
“I don’t know how to be what she needs,” Emma admitted.
“You don’t have to be perfect. Just be honest, listen, and be there. Be her mother.”
“You’ll help me, right?”
Regina leaned up and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Always.”
oOo
Upstairs, the notebook lay closed on the nightstand. Elena slept curled in a ball, her breathing still uneven, and one hand clenching the corner of the blanket.
Outside her window, the trees shifted in the breeze. Far in the dark, something moved. A shadow twisted against the wind. Unseen whispers echoed faintly across the boundary of Storybrooke.
“Found you.”
Chapter Text
The new morning dawned slowly and heavy with damp woollen clouds draped over the town. Regina sat curled on the couch in the mayor’s office, nursing a warm mug of tea and watching as the low flames flickered in the fireplace. Her mind kept circling back to the way Elena had clung to her the night before. The weight of the dream. The battered journal. The way she had said the dreams were written – they couldn’t be changed.
A soft knock stirred her from her thoughts as she looked towards where the door creaked open. Snow entered gingerly, her expression carefully measured.
“I bumped into Henry at Granny’s. He told me a little. About last night.”
“It was…” Regina released a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding. “She dreamt of being taken and chained. Alone, cold… I’ve never seen anyone wake from a nightmare like that, not even Henry during the darkest curses.”
Snow sat beside her, nodding gently. “And Emma?” Regina’s sigh answered before her words did.
“She told Elena her dreams weren’t real. Elena was terrified, and Emma just stood there arguing about what was real and what wasn’t. She wants to help, but she’s just so… afraid. Maybe of failing, getting too close…”
“Or maybe,” Snow hesitated, “of seeing too much of herself.” Regina looked over. “Elena is so much like Emma – the walls, the bite. The constant fear of being unwanted before she's even had the chance to be known.”
“She even glares the same way,” Regina murmured, pulling a reluctant smile from both of them.
“You and I both know, if Emma doesn’t face it, she’s going to push Elena away before she’s even had the chance to try,” Snow gently offered.
Regina stayed silent, swirling her mug. Snow touched her hand.
“Let me talk to her.”
oOo
Emma looked up from her paperwork as Snow walked into the Sheriff Station.
“You’re not here to report a stolen lawn gnome again, are you?”
“Not today,” Snow said mildly. “Though I do need to report a stubborn daughter.”
“Regina sent you, didn’t she?” Emma groaned.
“No,” Snow hummed, “I volunteered.”
Emma stood, trying to stay ahead of any confrontation. “I don’t believe in fate, or prophecy, or whatever those dreams are.”
“But you said you didn’t believe her. That’s not what she needed from you, Emma.”
“She wants me to believe she’s cursed, that she's already doomed. What am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, kid, hope the chains aren’t too tight’?”
“No,” Snow remained calm despite Emma’s exasperation. “You say: I’m here. I’ll fight for you. I believe you, even if I don’t understand yet.”
“Look, I’m doing my best, okay?” Emma exhaled hard. “I’m just not ready to have another kid, particularly one with all these issues—”
“Then make yourself ready.”
Emma pressed her mouth into a thin line. She could see the fear in her mother’s eyes as she stepped closer. “You think parenting is ever about being ready? You don’t get to choose when your child needs you. You jumped in with Henry. You figured it out. And now here’s this girl, who looks like you, is scared like you, and has issues. Like you. You’re treating her like a stranger.”
“Because it’s easier than the alternative.” Emma’s resolve cracked.
Snow softened. “Which is?”
“She’s my kid. And I wasn’t there. I didn’t protect her, and now she’s in pain, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“You don’t have to fix it. You just need to stop seeing her as just a mirror and start seeing her as your daughter.”
Emma stared at Snow, vulnerable and raw. Then gave a small nod.
oOo
There was a knock at Elena’s bedroom door. She looked up from her guitar strings warily. Emma stood awkwardly in the doorway, holding two mugs.
“Thought you might want hot cocoa.”
Elena’s brows lifted, and she placed her guitar to one side. “Is it poisoned?”
“I put cinnamon on it,” Emma said, with a small smile and shrug. She stepped inside and passed a mug to Elena. “That’s how I like it.” Elena took a sip and scrunched her nose.
“God, that’s disgusting.”
“Wait, really?”
“I hate cinnamon.”
“Great,” Emma muttered, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “I just assumed, because we’re so similar—”
“Exactly, you just assumed.”
“I’m just trying to get to know you,” Emma defended. “I didn’t know how else to connect—”
“You don’t try and connect, you just keep deciding. You decided I would like cinnamon. You decided I was lying about the dreams. You decided they didn’t matter.”
The silence was sharp between them.
“Look, I’m sorry, Ellie—”
“Stop calling me that!” Elena stood, eyes blazing. She set the mug down a little too hard. “You don’t know me, okay? So stop pretending you do.”
“I’m trying my best here,” Emma argued, standing with her fists clenched.
“No, you’re doing what’s easy, what makes you feel better. Showing up with cocoa and fake smiles and calling me a name I never asked you to use, pretending like you know me. You can’t make up for what happened and absolve yourself with a few marshmallows.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No, what’s not fair is you pretending everything is fine and thinking you can just play mom whilst I slip into the role of daughter.”
“I’m not trying to play anything!” Emma said, voice rising. “I never wanted to sign those papers; I never wanted a closed adoption. I tried to find you, but there were rules, and I honestly thought I was giving you your best chance without me.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” Elena hissed, eyes glassy. “I was alone, and now I’m here, and you still don't see me. You see a reflection of yourself. You don’t want to know me; you want a do-over. You want to help yourself.”
“That’s not true! I wanted you.” Emma took a breath. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel like a failure every second I look at you and see what I missed? What I gave up?”
“Maybe you should just go.”
“You hate me, don’t you?” Elena didn’t respond. In her mind’s eye, flashes of cold chains and silence echoed. Emma felt as her world crashed around her. Emma’s mouth opened and closed, a lump rising in her throat and her eyes burning. She hardened her expression. “Fine. I’ll stop trying.”
She turned and left without another word, unintentionally slamming the door behind her.
The cocoa sat on the bedside cabinet, steaming and untouched.
oOo
At the library, Regina paced between the open spellbooks and pages of magical theory, Belle leaned over a map of Storybrooke, sketching protective runes along the edges.
“They’re vague,” Belle murmured, tracing her fingers over the jagged scrawl. “But there’s got to be some sort of rhythm to them. Visions and prophetic dreams often follow a cycle.”
“Maybe they’re not meant to be tracked,” Regina mused. “Maybe they’re bleeding in from another realm, or another mind.”
“A curse?” Belle furrowed her brow.
Regina shook her head. “Not a typical one, but something is tethered to her. Something is watching. She must have gained these powers somehow.”
“Some of the symbols – I’m sure I recognise them from Camelot. It’s not much, but it’s a start. I’ll begin finding enchantments,” Belle reassured. “They might not stop whatever – or whoever – is coming, but it could slow them.”
“I’ll reinforce the protections around the house, and I’ll keep Elena close.”
“What if they’re already here?” Belle looked up slowly. “What if they’ve been here longer than any of us realised?”
Regina turned to the window, watching as drops rolled down the window.
“Then we prepare for war.”
oOo
Elena sat cross-legged on the bed, guitar across her lap. Her fingers pulled slowly at the strings, coaxing out a quiet, haunting melody. The music curled through the air like a whisper, soft and longing. In her mind’s eyes, flashes of the cold chains and silence echoed. Her fingers paused, the final note trembling.
Shadows thickened outside, slithering along the path with an eerie purple glow.
Far beyond Storybrooke’s borders, Morgan smiled.
Chapter Text
The first pulse hit just after midnight.
The light flickered before plunging the house into darkness. A deep vibration rolled through the floorboards, a hum felt in the pit of the stomach and the backs of teeth. Regina jolted awake, heart racing and breath caught in her throat as the air grew heavy with magic.
A flare of red light burst from the corner of the ceiling, spinning in a chaotic arc. The alarm, a warning Regina hadn’t used since the Black Fairy, wailed like a storm siren, high-pitched and relentless. Regina flew from the bed, robe across her shoulders and magic flaring in her palms as she stormed into the hallway. She nearly crashed into Henry as he burst from his room, phone clutched uselessly in his hand. Emma sprinted up the stairs.
“What the hell was that?”
“Elena,” Henry gasped, following Regina. “She’s—her room—”
A crash echoed down the hall, followed by a scream – high, terrified, and cut off too quickly. Magic buzzed through the walls like static.
They reached the bedroom door. It hung open, the hinges bent. The window was shattered outwards, glass shards sparkling like stars across the floor. The curtains flapped wildly in the icy night breeze. The smell of salt and ash lingered.
Elena was gone.
On the bed, the covers were tangled, and her journal lay open, pages torn and fluttering. It looked as if something had ripped them violently from the spine. Black ink had spilt across the blankets, staining them like blood from the darkest heart and leaving a trail to the window. Emma stumbled forward, clutching the windowsill. She didn’t notice the glass shards that sent drops of scarlet blood mingling with the spilt ink droplets.
“She’s gone.” Henry stood, looking at nothing. His voice was a broken whisper. “It happened.”
Regina stood frozen in the doorway, her magic pulsing in her palms and slowly fading. She turned around the room in a slow circle, disbelieving as she searched for any kind of clue or trace. There was nothing. The magic was too old, yet familiar. It was too dark.
“It wasn’t just a spell, it was a message,” she whispered. “They knew how to get past the protections. They shattered every last layer.” Her voice was low, her eyes hard.
“Then figure out who it was,” Emma snapped. “Trace the magic, find the trail—”
“I already tried,” Regina murmured. “It’s masked by something as old as magic itself. Enchanted to vanish as they left, like they never existed.” Emma cursed, fists clenched.
“I should’ve believed her.”
“Emma—”
“I told her it wasn’t real. I fought with her. She begged me—”
“Emma.” Regina took Emma by the shoulders. “Blaming yourself won’t bring Elena back.” Emma looked up, and for just a moment, her eyes met Regina’s – shattered, furious, and wordlessly begging for a way to make things right.
“She’s still alive.” They both looked at Henry. “I can feel it. She’s scared, but she’s still out there.”
Emma looked towards the window, watching as streaks of purple-black cloud dissipated in the twilight.
oOo
The living room looked like a war room, lit only with candlelight. Belle had joined them within the hour, Rumple having sensed the magical disturbance, and the Charmings not long after. David had a sword strapped to his back despite the absurdity of it indoors. The couch was littered with spellbooks and ancient texts, whilst the coffee table held half-drunk mugs of tea.
Regina stood at the hearth, arms crossed tight over her chest. She was no longer wearing her robe and had instead thrown on some casual day clothes, realising that there would be no more sleep that night, or any night following, until Elena was found. Emma paced the far wall, every movement jagged. She hadn’t said much. Not since her world had shattered and her son’s voice had cracked with grief. It was Henry who broke the latest round of silence.
“You believe her now, right? You all believe her?” he asked. No one answered. “She said this would happen.”
“I know,” Emma answered hollowly. “I should’ve listened.”
“She begged us,” Henry continued, voice rising. “She begged us to stop it—”
“I know!” Emma snapped. Then she crumbled. Her shoulders sagged as she sank in the armchair, hiding her face in her hands. “I thought at the very least we had time. I thought… I thought if I just kept her close—”
“You thought if you didn’t believe it, it wouldn’t come true,” Regina finished quietly. Emma didn’t deny it, staying stoic.
“This isn’t over,” Snow placed a hand on her back. “We will find her.”
“It’s almost druidic. A dark enchantment. This sigil… It's from Avalon,” Belle said slowly, looking closer at the pages before her and comparing them to the sketches of the scorch marks left behind in the bedroom. Regina glanced over her shoulder, bringing a candle closer. “Ancient, nearly forgotten. Very few beings would use it now.”
“Avalon? Like King Arthur?” Emma asked, looking up.
“Wait, you don’t think…?” Regina trailed, narrowing her eyes.
“Morgan Le Fay.”
The room dropped into silence. The candle closest to Snow flickered and hissed out, startling her.
“She’s real?” Henry asked. Belle nodded.
“She was imprisoned,” Regina added, “long ago in the fractured realm. She utilised magic for control and torment. She believed she could change fate and use it as punishment.”
“Imprisoned, but obviously not destroyed,” David stated. “The final battle, during the collapse of the realms, perhaps she escaped then.”
“But why wait until now?” Emma asked. “Why come after Elena?”
“Because it’s not about Elena,” Regina said softly, placing a hand on Emma’s arm and meeting her eyes. “It’s about us.”
“What do you mean, Mom?” Henry asked.
“I’m just saying, Morgan doesn’t just want power,” Regina murmured, still looking at Emma. “She wants revenge. She wants us to suffer.”
oOo
Somewhere deep below the forest at Storybrooke’s boundary was an obsidian chamber. Inside, the air shimmered like glass under pressure. Shadows thickened and curled up the walls, rippling unnaturally, threatened only by candles and their reflections flickering in the gleam of warped mirrors.
At an altar stood a woman in flowing black, purple, and gold. Her cloak dragged like a mist behind her. Raven-dark hair flowed down her back, woven with twists of gold. Her eyes were not eyes; they were voids glinting with the reflections of the memories and paths before her.
Morgan Le Fay smiled.
She stood before a great mirror that cracked in seven places. Reflections shimmered not with her face, but with the faces of Emma Swan and Regina Mills.
“They don’t even remember,” Morgan purred. “Not the cost. Not the blood. Not the magic they stole.” Her fingers danced at the mirror’s edge, and the glass rippled.
Elena sat crumpled on the floor, far enough away that she wouldn’t cause trouble, but close enough that she could be seen by Morgan. Chains shimmered with runes that pulsed dimly with each pained breath she took. She was conscious but bruised. Morgan gazed at her as if she were a curator admiring a lost jewel.
“You’re stronger than I expected. Most would have broken already.” Elena kept her mouth pressed into a line of silent defiance, eyes fierce.
“You could have been their dream,” she whispered. “But now you will be their undoing.” Elena didn’t flinch as she met the woman’s eyes.
“Even you can’t change the future.”
“I don’t want to change it,” she laughed. “I want to play with it. I want it to hurt.”
Morgan moved closer, crouching to Elena’s level. She brushed hair away from Elena’s cheek with terrifying gentleness.
“I’ll make them suffer,” she breathed, stroking Elena’s grazed cheek. “For their fairytale endings. For leaving me in the ruins of their happy ever after.”
Elena’s voice was barely audible. “You’re afraid of them.”
Morgan’s smile vanished. Her hand whipped across Elena’s cheek, echoing in the dark cavern. Before Elena could gasp, Morgan had a tight hold of her jaw, forcing Elena to meet her eyes. Her cheek throbbed, but she met Morgan’s eyes with a hard gaze.
“Fear,” she said cooly, “is for those left with something to lose.” Harshly letting go of Elena, Morgan straightened, her cloak unfurling like wings. The candles flickered as the shadows continued to watch. She turned back to the mirror fragments, watching the ripples from afar.
“They took everything from me. My place in the story. My legacy. My rightfully earned ending.” Flames flared around the mirror as the images danced. “I want to unmake their fairytale.” Morgan looked at Elena over her shoulder. “I want your power so that I can change the fates. I don’t want to destroy Emma and Regina. I want them to suffer the way I suffered.”
She smirked.
“I’ll start with their abandoned daughter.”
“They didn’t abandon me.”
“Oh, child,” Morgan whispered. “I know that’s what you want to believe. But you cannot run from the truth forever. I’ll make sure of that, don’t worry, my sweet. I’ll make them suffer.”
Morgan laughed, a piercing sound that made Elena’s hair stand on end.
“They’ll learn what it means to lose everything.”
Chapter Text
The stone was cold.
Elena lay curled on her side, her cheek pressed to the damp floor. Her breath came slowly, caught by ragged gasps. Her wrists were raw from struggling against the enchanted iron cuffs, each inscribed with pulsing runes that responded to the slightest movement. Her ankles were shackled, heavy links to keep her tethered to the centre of the room like an animal. The cold wasn’t just in the air. It seeped through her skin, into her bones, until her very soul felt numbed. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry. Not in front of Morgan. Not again.
The silence didn’t seem natural. It wasn’t just an absence of sound – it was deliberate. It pressed against her ears and made her heartbeat feel like a scream. Only the flicker of the candles marked the passage of time. They burned with white-gold flames that gave no heat, casting long shadows that didn’t always match the shape of the room. The hunger had faded a long time ago. But the thirst – that was harder. Her throat burned every time she swallowed.
Dreams came and went in painful fragments. She saw the lines blur between memories, dreams, and prophecies. Her adoptive mother clutched at her wine glass with razor nails – You’re just looking for attention, Elena. A man in a white coat writing on a clipboard – Nightmares aren’t real, you’re just projecting. Emma stood before her, dismissive as she cried – dreams don’t make it real.
The door opened with a low groan. Elena didn’t lift her head straight away but watched as the shadow stretched before her and grew. The sorceress moved like smoke. Her velvet cloak glided across the stone. The candles danced as her presence disturbed the stillness. Her fingers trailed against the wall, leaving faint smears of shimmering ash.
“You’re quieter now,” Morgan praised, like a teacher noting her student’s improvement. “Learning your place already?” She smiled and crouched beside Elena. “You’re stronger than most. Most beg. Most lose hope. But not you. Not yet. I almost pity you. Clinging to the idea that they’re coming.”
She reached out, brushing tangled strands of Elena’s hair behind her ear. Elena flinched.
“You should be grateful. You were cast aside. Forgotten. Traded for a better future. But here you are. Chosen by me.”
“I’m not yours.”
“You think they love you?” She leaned in, voice lowering to a hiss. “They had their second chance. They aren’t getting another one.”
“Emma said—”
“Emma said what she had to, to soothe her guilt.” Morgan hesitated. Just for a second. As if something had unsettled her. Her gaze sharpened as she flicked her fingers. The metal tightened, fire searing through Elena’s limbs. She arched involuntarily, a cry ripping from her throat. “Your dreams are powerful, child. I want them. And what I want, I get. One way or another.”
Elena’s chest wheezed, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Even if you take them, you won’t be able to use them. The dreams can’t be changed.”
“Oh, but that is where you are wrong,” Morgan smirked. “I don’t want to just see the future. I want to own it. Your power will let me shape it as I please.”
Elena looked up, her voice barely audible. “They are coming for me.” Morgan laughed softly.
“Yes, and what a lovely rescue that will be. Do you think they’ll storm in, swords raised, with tears in their eyes? Do you think Emma will throw herself in front of you to protect you? Will Regina kill for you? Will Henry believe in you enough to save you?”
Elena held her ground. “They will.”
Morgan’s expression didn’t falter, but her eyes narrowed. “How precious. Still holding onto hope.” She rose, pacing in slow circles around Elena. “Tell me—Do you remember the last thing your mother said to you?” The chains flared with sudden heat, jolting Elena’s muscles. Morgan didn’t look back.
“You hate me, don’t you?” Morgan mimicked Emma’s voice perfectly. “Fine. I’ll stop trying.”
Elena’s throat tightened. She said nothing. Morgan turned, cloak sweeping.
“I could show you more. Would you like to see them?” Without waiting for an answer, Morgan flicked her wrist, and the mirror rippled. The family were gathered in the Mill’s house. Emma sat silently, face like stone, while Regina barked angrily and Henry buried his face in his hands.
“They’ll find me,” Elena murmured, trying to believe her words.
“They’re tired,” Morgan sneered, “already unravelling. Do you know how easy it is the break a fairytale?” Morgan stepped behind Elena, one hand drifting above her head. “They built a kingdom without you. You were sacrificed for their peace.”
“No.” Elena’s voice cracked.
“Yes, my child,” Morgan contradicted, pressing a finger to Elena’s temple.
A rush of visions seared through her. Emma turned away. Regina lit a match to the torn adoption papers. And Henry—he was smiling beside her. Elena heard her cries echoing but wasn’t sure she could feel tears. They were visions, surely, but they sank into her like thorns. Each one was warped just enough to make her question the truth. They twisted around, isolating her in the darkness.
“You see?” Morgan cooed. “They left you long before all this. All I’ve done is show you the truth. They left you once, they’ll leave you again.” Elena trembled.
“It’s not true…”
“It feels true, doesn’t it?” Morgan whispered, kneeling beside her again. “Feelings are stronger than truth. That’s why your dreams are so powerful. They’re raw, pure belief.” Her hand slid beneath Elena’s chin, forcing her to meet eyes. “All I must do is break your belief. No one is coming,” Morgan softened her voice, “because they never truly chose you.”
Elena broke.
Not with a scream, but with the smallest, sharpest breath. Her shoulders sagged. Her head tilted forward. Morgan smiled, stood, and turned away. She waved a hand toward the mirror, dispersing any reflections as it faded into smoke.
“You’ll see, Elena. You’ll beg me to take your gift. And when I do—” she looked back, voice like ice, “—you will be their ruin.”
The door slammed shut again, the runes at its edge flaring red. Elena didn’t move.
Her mind was silent.
oOo
In Storybrooke, a storm gathered.
Lightning cracked above the treeline as Regina stepped back from the kitchen table, which had been hastily dragged into the sitting room, hands streaked with charcoal from her scrying attempts. Magical maps, enchanted candles, and ritual items littered the surface, and her breath was shallow from the sheer magical effort.
“It’s not enough,” she whispered. “I can’t find her.” Emma stood in the doorway, her hair in damp ringlets from having just scoured the outskirts of the forest with David.
“We know it’s Morgan Le Fey. We know she's working from some forgotten corner of Avalon’s legacy. But how did she even get here? How did she find Elena?”
“She’s tied to Elena. Not just through magic, but through emotion and prophecy. Prophets are most vulnerable when they’re uncertain of themselves,” Belle explained. “If Elena’s losing hope, Morgan can use that. She feeds on suffering.”
Regina froze. Emma looked at her intensely.
“She’s breaking her,” Regina mumbled, her voice small. “Emotionally, bit by bit. Not just to hurt her, but to weaken her power. To take it.”
Across the room, Belle set down a leather-bound book. “If Morgan is using a tether, the only way to detect her might be through a direct connection.”
“Like blood?” Snow fretted, wringing her hands. Regina shook her head.
“No. Dreams.”
“A tether,” Regina realised aloud. “The prophetic link. Morgan has been watching her.”
“There has to be a connection to you two.” Snow looked between Emma and Regina.
“But what did you do?”
“That isn’t important right now,” Regina said sharply, her eyes flicking to Emma. “We do know that Morgan wants Elena, and potentially us. That means she needs her alive.”
“Which buys us time,” Belle finished.
“If anyone can reach her, it’s you,” Regina urged, stepping closer to Emma.
“You think Elena might still be dreaming?” Emma asked.
“Her mind may be blocked, but her magic is still young and uncontrolled,” Belle explained. “If she's resisting, if there is even a glimmer of unconscious hope, there might be a flicker. A signal.”
Emma looked away. “She doesn’t want me. Not after everything.”
“She’s your daughter,” Regina said gently. “Nothing is stronger than blood magic. She’s alone. Whatever happened doesn’t matter. She needs you now.”
Emma nodded slowly, jaw tight. She looked at Regina, her eyes fierce.
“I’ll try.”
oOo
Somewhere beyond time, Elena floated in the darkness that had encroached. She could taste the blood on her cracked lips. A faint white thread shimmered at the edge of her consciousness. A spark. Barely noticeable. It wasn’t strength, nor was it will. Her fingers twitched. For the first time in hours, maybe days, she felt warmth. It curled like steam in her chest. Not magic, nor prophecy. Memory.
Henry’s laugh. The scent of hot cocoa with cinnamon. A hand, warm against her back. Regina’s voice reading her own journal aloud. A salt pot being passed to her. Emma’s quiet, shaky words – I wanted you.
She clutched at the thread, following the trail of breadcrumbs in the forest of shadows.
Somewhere, in the farthest corner of her prison, a crack formed. Small. Almost nothing.
“They’re coming,” Elena uttered. And this time, she believed it.
Chapter Text
Branches clawed at Emma’s jacket as she led the charge through the underbrush, her flashlight bouncing off moss-slick rocks and shadowed roots. Regina followed closely behind, her hands aglow with crackling violet magic as her boots crushed through the dead leaves. Belle, Snow, and David had stayed behind to maintain tracking spells and make sure Henry was safe, much to his displeasure since he was ‘near enough a man now’. This was a mother’s quest, anyway.
“She’s near,” Regina murmured, her voice low. “I can feel the enchantments, layered and old. Camelot-born.” Emma nodded, shoulders tense. The air grew colder. They passed twisted trees that seemed to shimmer in the low sunlight. A stone stood oddly protruding from the tangled roots of an ancient tree. As Emma watched, she noticed a flickering cast across the stone, as if someone were spraying it with a thin covering of water. Regina narrowed her eyes.
“Wards, cloaking, curses… and a glamour spell.”
“My favourite,” Emma quipped.
Regina moved her hands in a smooth, practised arc as she breathed deeply. Emma saw as glyphs lit up the air surrounding the stone, gradually fading and leaving a heavy iron door. Ema stepped forward, pressing a hand against it. It was cold. Her magic burned at her fingertips.
“She built this to keep us out.”
“Then let’s break it down,” Regina smirked. Emma stood back and, with a look at Regina, they let their magic surge and combine in a silver and violet blast. The door was blown from its hinges in a screech of metal and dust. They couldn’t see inside – there was only darkness. Emma stepped through the doorway and into the smoke, emerging into a chamber carved from stone and obsidian. Magic crackled through the air. The walls glimmered faintly with runes. She froze.
Elena lay curled on the floor in the centre of the chamber, her limbs still shackled and chaffed raw. Her skin was bruised and bloodied. Hair fell across her face and tangled around her. Her body was too still. Her breath came in the barest flickers. She didn’t look up, eyes fixed on a point in the stone floor as her lips subtly moved. Emma strained her ears to hear what she was whispering.
“Don’t believe them…not real…”
Regina rushed past Emma and dropped to her knees, hands already working to undo the enchanted restraints. She blinked fast, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“Elena? It’s okay, we’re here. You’re safe, sweetheart.” Emma knelt beside Regina, moving a hair from Elena’s face with shaking fingers. She pulled away when Elena flinched, but continued when Regina nudged her.
“It’s me. It’s Emma. You’re safe.”
“…not…real…”
“We’re real, Elena. We’re here.” Elena stirred faintly, looking warily up at the pair. Her fingers reached and clutched at Emma’s sleeve, weak but desperate.
“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, voice breaking as she gathered her daughter into her arms, gently holding her like she would shatter at any moment. She lifted her like she weighed nothing. “I should’ve believed you.”
Elena trembled, letting out a fractured sob, and then fell limp against her.
Emma looked at Regina, eyes wide.
“It wasn’t supposed to be her.”
oOo
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and rain.
Elena lay beneath crisp white sheets in a private room, her face pale and peaceful in the low evening light. An IV bag dripped steadily above her, monitors ticking gently behind. Snow sat, gently stroking her hand and wiping the sweat from her forehead. The air around Elena seemed unnaturally still. Blue had said Elena was stable but sleeping deeply, whether from exhaustion or magical trauma, no one was sure.
“She’s holding on,” Blue had said. “Whatever Morgan did…Elena is strong, like her mothers.”
Emma was in the hallway, arms crossed and pacing like a caged animal. Regina leaned against the far wall, arms folded, her brow furrowed and unreadable.
“We should have found her sooner,” Emma said. “We should have known.”
“We did everything we could,” Regina replied calmly, although a little short. “The protections, the tracking spell—”
“None of it worked,” Emma snapped, stopping still and facing Regina. “She was taken from her bed. And I told her it wasn’t real.”
“That’s not what broke her, Emma.” Regina let out a sigh. “Morgan twisted everything. She fed Elena lies made from a twisted truth. You didn’t abandon her, you made a mistake—”
“A mistake that nearly cost her everything,” Emma uttered.
There was a beat of silence.
“Do you think she’ll forgive me?”
“Emma—”
“Because I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to earn her trust.”
“Good,” came a sharp voice from the doorway. Henry stormed in, his shoulders tight with anger and eyes burning. He looked between his mothers.
“Henry—”
“No. Don’t—don’t you dare try and explain it away.” He took a few steps forward, voice shaking. “She told us what would happen. Everyone ignored her.”
“Henry, we tried—” Regina started, bristling slightly as she came to stand beside Emma.
“You didn’t try hard enough!” Henry shouted. Regina sensed Emma recoil slightly. “Neither of you did! You were too busy being afraid of what she meant, what she reminded you of. Of what you apparently did and still haven’t explained to anyone – I’ve heard you whispering. You made this whole thing about you, and she’s the one who paid the price.”
“I know,” Emma whispered, her face crumpling. “I know we messed up.”
“She almost died.”
“I didn’t want to believe it was real because if it was, then I'd failed her before I even got the chance to know her,” Emma said softly. “I couldn’t handle that.”
“She’s not your second chance,” Henry snapped. “She’s herself. You wanted to protect your happily ever after so badly, you didn’t see that she needed saving.”
Regina crossed her arms, voice tight. “You think we don’t know that?”
“I think you realised it too late.” Henry turned, stepping toward the room. “I’m not leaving her alone ever again.”
Neither of them answered. Henry gave them one last look of contempt before disappearing into the hospital room.
Emma stared at the floor. Regina stood, shaking slightly. It was impossible to tell if it was from fear, the cold, or the weight of memory. The lights buzzed overhead, flickering slightly. Nothing major. Nothing anyone would notice. But Regina did.
“All I did was keep hurting her.” Emma’s voice was small. Regina regarded her for a second.
“There’s still time to make things right.”
“I hope so,” Emma whispered. “Morgan didn’t even need to twist some of those memories.” Regina took a sharp breath. “Why didn’t we remember?” Emma asked quietly. “Why didn’t we think—”
“Not now, Emma.” Regina looked away, towards the door of the hospital room. “Not now…”
“Yes, now.” Emma turned to Regina. “Morgan knew from the start.”
“When I saw the markings, the Avalon markings, I knew it couldn’t just be some twisted sorceress. It was…her.”
“When did you remember?”
“A while ago, but I didn’t want to believe it,” Regina gave a small scoff, realising the irony of her words. “You knew too. The past never forgets.”
“Pieces. Not all at once, since it was all so… complicated…” Emma shrugged. “But when I saw Elena, it hit me. The prophecy—It wasn’t supposed to be her.”
They were quiet for a long beat. Then, Emma spoke again.
“I didn’t want to remember. That we…did that…”
“We were protecting everyone,” Regina stated, as if it were a mantra that justified everything. She reached for Emma’s arm, but stopped herself. Her fingers hovered, then fell back to her side. She couldn’t offer comfort, not now. “Morgan knows exactly what we did, and now she wants to make us pay.”
Emma stared at her. “We already are.”
“No,” Regina swallowed the bile rising in her throat and met Emma’s eyes. “This is just the beginning.”
Behind the door, Elena remained unconscious, but her fingers had curled faintly around Henry’s hand.
oOo
Far below the surface of Storybrooke, Morgan Le Fay stood, eyes fixed on the fractured mirror. The seven fractures glowed, each pulsing with energy drawn from Elena’s shattered hope. Smoke coiled around her, a sentient mist curling up her sleeves. The mirror showed only the briefest flickers before settling on an image of Emma cradling Elena with Regina beside her. The image blinked out like a dying ember. Morgan’s face twisted.
“You think you’ve won.” She noted the rows of candles burning beside her, turning back to the mirror. “All you’ve done is open the final chapter.” She smirked, cruel and knowing, as the mirror showed Emma and Regina in the hospital hallway, guilt etched into their faces. “They remember.”
Morgan waved her hand across the surface of the mirror. Runes flared and rippled into another vision. Emma’s face. Not present-day, but days of the past. Standing against a backdrop of flame, she held her sword laced with blood as she screamed. Regina was beside her, magic flaring. A figure fell to their knees, unseen and forgotten.
“When it is revealed…what you really did…” Morgan’s smile twisted, “Your legacy will burn, and your daughter will be the one to light the match.”
The mirror cracked again, straight down the centre. Seven cracks became nine.
“You will watch her fall apart, just as I did. Piece by piece. And you will be powerless to stop it.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper, all the more terrifying for its calm.
“I will feast on your fear. I will drink your guilt. And when you beg for mercy,” she hummed, “I will offer you none. Every fairytale has a curse, and yours… has only just begun.”
She raised her hands, and the darkness surged. A storm of shadows coalesced behind her, darkness with hollow eyes and snarling teeth.
“The past remembers, and I am its vengeance.”
Chapter Text
The first thing Elena noticed was the light. It was soft and pale, warm against her eyelids as it filtered through the curtains. It wasn’t candlelight, nor a torch or dreamlight. Sunlight.
The second thing she noticed was the sound. A steady beep…beep…beep… and a quiet hum, mechanical and constant. Somewhere nearby, there were footsteps and hushed voices.
Then there was the warmth. Someone was holding her hand.
Elena blinked slowly as her eyes adjusted. The ceiling above her was sterile white. The bed was too soft against her back to be stone. The pain in her limbs was dulled, numbed by magic or medicine, or both. She turned her head slightly, wincing.
Snow sat in the chair beside her, face soft but drawn with concern. Henry was on the other side, staring into the distance. His hoodie was wrinkled, and his hair stuck up like he’d been sleeping in the chair. Which he had. Elena tried to speak. Her throat was dry and cracked. Snow noticed straight away.
“Elena,” Snow spoke softly. “You’re safe now. You’re in the hospital. Can you hear me?” Elena nodded slowly. Snow helped Elena sit up a little and brought a cup closer, aiding Elena to take a sip with a straw. The water burned, but she didn’t stop drinking.
“You’ve been asleep for a while, but you’re strong,” Snow continued gently. “You fought through it.”
Elena’s gaze drifted. Through the hospital room window, she saw Emma and Regina. They weren’t looking in. They were looking at each other, tension thick around them. Elena couldn’t hear the words, but their body language said enough. Emma’s arms were thrown wide, her face flushed with frustration. Regina’s brow furrowed, and her hands moved, punctuating her words.
“Moms!” Henry shouted. “She’s awake!”
They both turned, looking through the glass. For a moment, her eyes met Elena’s. Her stone front crumbled. Slowly, she lifted one hand and placed her fingers gently on the glass. Her lips moved with words Elena couldn’t hear. Then, quietly, she turned and walked down the hallway, out of sight.
Regina hesitated only a moment before she appeared in the doorway. She looked exhausted, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her usual precision was softened by fear and guilt’s wear.
“Elena,” she breathed, standing near the end of the bed. Elena blinked up at her, eyes still a little sluggish.
“Hi,” she muttered. “…Where’s Emma?”
Regina didn’t answer the question. Instead, she moved closer and placed a gentle hand to Elena’s forehead. Her magic shimmered a faint white, flaring just slightly, static against her fingertips. She paused. A frown flickered but was quickly recovered.
“Morgan can’t touch you here,” Regina whispered. “You’re protected.”
But something about the way the energy pulsed beneath Elena’s skin made her wonder if it was already too late for simple protections.
Snow went to reach for the nurse call button, but then looked between Regina and Elena. She straightened herself and took a breath.
“I’ll go and let the Doctor and Blue know that you’re awake. Come on, Henry,” Snow said gently. “You can help me.” Henry didn’t move.
“I’m not leaving her.”
“You’ll be back in five minutes. You could find her a pudding cup. I’m sure Elena is hungry.” Henry hesitated, but looked when Elena rested a gentle hand on his wrist.
“You’ll know which one.” She smiled gently. “You always do. It’s the twintuition.”
“Cinnamon?” Henry teased. Elena laughed, a small but hopeful sound to the ears of those around her, wrinkling her nose. Henry looked pointedly at Snow. “Alright. Five minutes.” He kissed the top of Elena’s head before following Snow reluctantly from the room.
When they were gone, the room was quiet. Regina moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She gently held Elena’s hand, stroking the top of it. She looked at Elena—her daughter—without speaking. Her eyes were heavy.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“I’m sure I’m not the only one,” Regina replied in a hushed voice with a small smile. There was a beat of silence before Elena spoke again, more fearful this time.
“It wasn’t all real, right? The things she showed me?” Regina shook her head.
“No, not all of it. Morgan’s magic is cruel. It warps truth into poison.”
“There were some things she didn’t even change, maybe warped slightly at most,” Elena admitted.
“That’s our fault.” Regina swallowed hard. “We didn’t protect you the way we should have.”
“You did what you could.”
There was a pause. Elena looked at where her hand held Regina’s.
“She said I was a consequence, that you traded me for peace.”
“You were never a consequence,” Regina whispered fiercely. “Never.” Elena didn’t respond straight away, just gave a small nod. She played with the loose thread of the hospital blanket with her free hand.
“She knew things. About you. About Emma. This isn’t just about me, is it?”
“There’s…history,” she admitted. She paused, trying to find the words. “Old and painful. Things we thought we left in the past. Morgan… she was part of it. She’s using you to hurt us.”
“Why?”
Regina sighed.
“Because we thought we were doing the right thing, but we didn’t think about the potential future it could lead to.”
“Did you know she’d come for me?”
Regina shook he head. “No, I didn’t think she’d remember us.” She paused. “I was wrong.”
Another beat passed. Elena looked down.
“She hates me,” she said. “Morgan, I mean.”
“No, darling,” Regina reached out, brushing Elena’s golden curls back gently. “She hates what you represent. Prophecy, future, change. She fears you. She sees your dreams as something she can take, something she can control. Morgan wants to rewrite fate, and you… You’re the one who could either strengthen her or be her undoing.”
“She said I would break, and maybe I did crack a little.” Elena felt tears sting her eyes.
“Cracks let the light in.”
“She said I would beg her to take my power.”
“But you didn’t. Even when it hurt, you held on. You have your family’s strength.”
Elena slowly sat herself up and wrapped her arms around Regina, feeling safe in the comfort of her realness.
“I’m sorry you were caught in the fallout,” Regina whispered. “You’re stronger than we knew.”
“I had to be, because no one believed me.”
Regina felt her heart crack.
“I will always believe you, I promise.”
oOo
In her hidden sanctum, Morgan stood once more looking into her shattered mirror. The ninth fracture had begun to pulse, blood red light glowing through the cracks. She traced the crack with her finger.
“Hope clings like rot,” she murmured. “But it always decays.” Visions flickered across the mirror. Regina was with Elena, who was alive, but her eyes were still fearful. Emma walked alone along the streets of Storybrooke, lost.
“She was meant to break, but she held on. That means she is strong. But trauma rewrites dreams. She is ready.” Behind Morgan, the shadows shifted, drawn to her growing power.
“When the tenth crack forms, the seal will break. She will no longer resist me. Her power will want release.” The mirror shimmered. An image of Elena standing alone in an endless dreamscape, walking through a forest of stars as her hands glowed with dreamlight. “I won’t need to steal it. She will give it to me. She will think it is her choice.”
She smiled. Quiet. Knowing.
“That will be the moment I take everything.”
Chapter Text
The house was still.
Elena stood at the threshold of her bedroom, uncertain for a moment. The space was soft with lamplight. Regina had changed the sheets, fluffed the pillows, even found Elena’s favourite hoodie and placed it on the end of the bed. A glass of water waited on the nightstand. The room was scented faintly with lavender from a protection charm tucked behind the curtain rail. Rain tapped gently against the glass, streaking down in slow, silver rivers as Regina closed the curtains. The house was warm. Regina had lit fires earlier and placed a blanket around Elena’s shoulders, which she was still holding onto. Regina had helped her upstairs, moving slowly to accommodate her still-healing limbs. Elena had insisted she could manage on her own, but hadn’t fought too hard when Regina offered.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Regina’s voice brought her back to the present.
“Yeah. I’m just… tired.”
As Elena climbed into bed, she heard the quiet music that Henry was playing drift through the floorboards. He was playing slow, steady instrumentals, the same ones he had played in the hospital when she couldn’t sleep. Elena lay back against the pillows, Regina pulling the blankets up around her, like she had always wanted her parents to do when she was younger. Elena curled tighter into the blankets.
“Sleep,” Regina said gently, brushing Elena’s curls back before kissing her temple. “You’re safe now.”
oOo
The shadows shifted. Elena woke up with a sharp inhale. The room was dark, lit only by the distant haze of the hallway lamp. She could have sworn something had moved near the window. She reached for the lamp switch but stopped when she caught the faint sound of breathing.
Someone was there.
“Morgan--?”
“No,” came a familiar voice, groggy but warm. “Just me.”
Emma Swan slumped awkwardly in the chair by the window. Her jacket had fallen to the floor. Her arms were folded, hair falling loose over her shoulder in a waterfall of golden ringlets. Her head had lolled to the side in her sleep, but now she was blinking blearily and brushing the curls from her eyes. Elena felt as her heartbeat settled.
“Elena?” She asked, voice low.
“Sorry,” Elena whispered, crossing her legs. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” Emma murmured, rubbing her eyes. “I’ve been half awake for hours anyway.” She looked up at Elena, then furrowed her brow. She stood, walking carefully toward the bed. “Are you okay? Bad dream?”
Elena hesitated, then nodded. “Just…the shadows. They feel different now.” Emma crouched beside the bed, resting her arms on the edge.
“You’re safe now. Nothing’s going to get you. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No,” Emma sighed. “But I can try.” She began to stand. “I’ll give you some space—”
Elena’s hand shot out, fingers catching Emma’s wrist. Words tumbled out before she could catch them.
“No, mom, don’t leave me.”
Silence. Emma froze. She turned slowly, one eyebrow raised.
“Mom?”
“Sorry. I didn’t—It just—” Elena blinked fast, loosening her grip.
“Slipped out?” Emma smiled softly. Elena nodded, her cheeks flushing. Emma sat on the edge of the bed, and Elena didn’t pull away. “It’s okay. You can call me Mom, if you want to. I don’t mind.” She took a small breath, treading carefully. She didn’t want to break this moment. “But only if I can call you Lena, like the others do.”
A moment passed, Elena looking down at her fingers as they played with the edge of the blanket.
“You could,” She whispered, tilting her head and looking up at Emma. “Or you could call me Ellie.”
“Ellie?” Emma’s breath caught. Elena nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. Emma reached for her hand.
“I should’ve believed you,” Emma whispered. “From the beginning.”
“I didn’t make it easy.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“I don’t think I fully believed myself at times.”
“That’s the worst part, isn’t it?” Emma looked down. “Doubting yourself before anyone else even has the chance to.”
They sat in silence for a few seconds. The kind of silence that sits calmly around the room and soothes.
“Are you sure you want me to stay?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Budge over then, Ellie.”
Elena didn’t say anything, just shifted over, lying against the pillow. Emma kicked off her boots and lay down beside her, arms tentative. Elena hesitated only a moment before shifting closer and tucking herself close, resting her head against Emma’s shoulder like it always belonged there.
“I told myself I was protecting you. If I brushed the dreams away, it wouldn’t be real.” Emma shifted so that she could meet Elena’s eyes. “I wasn’t ready to face it all. I didn’t want to fail you…again. I guess I just froze.”
“I wasn’t ready either, but maybe no one ever really is.” Elena took a breath. “It still hurt,” Elena admitted. “But I get it. I think I would’ve frozen too.”
“You have every right to be mad.”
“I was, but I don’t think I am now.” Elena buried her face back into Emma’s shoulder, her eyelids gently fluttering. Emma played gently with Elena’s hair.
“You don’t have to try and fix everything,” Elena mumbled. “Just keep trying. That’s enough.”
Emma exhaled, brushing her fingers gently through Elena’s hair.
“For you, I’m always going to keep trying.”
oOo
Downstairs, Regina padded into the kitchen, robe wrapped tightly around her, and one hand already reaching for her coffee mug. The clock read just before seven. A soft thump made her turn. Henry, bleary-eyed and hair tousled, stood by the fridge, pouring juice into a glass.
“You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Henry replied. “I assume Mom’s still passed out, as usual.” Regina blinked.
“Emma’s not down here?”
“I thought she was still with you in bed.” Henry frowned.
“Emma said she was staying up a little longer. I thought she must have just fallen asleep down here and not made it to bed.”
“But if Emma’s not with us—”
“She wouldn’t have left the house.” A chill prickled along Regina’s spine. “Not with Elena just out of the hospital.”
“Wait, where is Elena?”
They both turned at once, moving quickly around the house. Once they’d ensured there was no one else downstairs, they fled up the stairs. Regina turned toward Elena’s bedroom. The door was ajar – she hadn’t left it that far closed. She pushed it open slowly, her breath catching in her throat.
Elena was asleep on her side, half under the covers, curled close against Emma, who had one arm draped loosely over her daughter. Elena’s hand still clutched at one of Emma’s curls. They were fast asleep, peaceful, warm, and safe. The morning light crept in through a crack in the curtains, painting them in gold and shining against their hair like glowing halos. Henry stepped up beside Regina.
“They’re okay.”
Regina didn’t speak. She simply nodded, eyes locked on the two most important girls in her life. She reached out briefly, acting on instinct and checking the warding charms scattered around the room. The air was too warm, and there was an odd pulsing at her fingertips. She’d need to check again later, just to be safe. Then, slowly, Regina reached out and wrapped an arm around Henry, pulling him close. He didn’t resist, instead melting into her hold.
They didn’t know about the quiet moment in the night; The whispered names that were exchanged like gifts. They didn’t know what dreams Elena would have, or the way her magic would hum brighter than before. They didn’t need to. All they saw was the new beginning.
Chapter Text
The morning light was gentle as it spilt across the sheets. Emma stirred first, blinking against the soft brightness that seeped around the edge of the curtains. Her neck ached from lying in the same position for too long, but she didn’t dare move. Elena was still curled against her, face pressed into Emma’s shoulder, breathing slow and steady.
Emma didn’t speak. She just…stayed.
Eventually, Elena shifted. Her eyes fluttered open, drowsy but clear. She turned and saw that she was curled into Emma. For a second, she looked surprised. Then she smiled. Emma’s heart did something funny in her chest.
“Hey,” She whispered. Elena blinked slowly, eyes adjusting. She was still curled into Emma’s shoulder, warmth soaking through the fabric of her shirt.
“Hi,” Elena murmured, her voice hoarse from sleep. “You’re still here.”
“Of course. Didn’t want to leave you alone.” Emma gave a tired smile.
Neither of them moved for a long moment. Emma stroked Elena’s hair softly, savouring the peace. Then, Elena sat up slowly, wincing slightly as her body reminded her it was still recovering. Emma helped her ease back against the pillows. Elena noticed that Emma looked softer, as if it were the first time she had rested in days. She could hear the distant murmur of birdsong and was sure there was a scent of apples drifting from downstairs. It had become familiar and comforting.
“We should probably head downstairs. I can hear the coffee calling to me.”
“Five more minutes,” Elena mumbled, snuggling back into Emma’s hold.
“Wow,” Emma laughed, “You really are my daughter.”
They eventually moved, slowly, in a quiet sync. Neither rushed to break the calm and quiet. Emma helped Elena find her slippers and held her steady as they made their way down the stairs together. Elena let herself lean into Emma’s side, just a little. This time, she didn’t protest.
oOo
Downstairs, the kitchen was already warm with morning bustle. Regina stood at the island, her hair still damp from the shower, slicing fruit with magical precision. Henry was reading something on his phone, and Snow was pouring drinks from a teapot as Belle and Blue arranged magical texts and notes across the table.
A quiet fell over the kitchen as Emma entered, a little sheepish, with Elena by her side. She had clearly come straight from Elena’s room. Her hair was rumpled, and her shirt was creased. The tension in the air shifted almost imperceptibly as all eyes turned towards them.
“You look like you could use some coffee,” Regina said, barely looking at Emma, but with a softness and knowing. She put her knife down and crossed the kitchen to help Elena to a chair.
“I, uh… didn’t sleep much.” Emma reached for the coffee pot, pouring a large mug. “Elena had a nightmare. So, I stayed, and kept guard.” Regina looked at Emma carefully. She didn’t press, just gave a gentle nod. They settled Elena onto a chair at the table. Elena relaxed into the cushion, not realising her hand was still loosely clasped in Emma’s until she let go.
Regina blinked as her magic prickled faintly at the edge of her senses. Elena’s aura shimmered slightly. It was clearer, more focused. Elena looked…grounded. Tired, but steady.
“You’re brighter,” Regina mumbled to no one in particular.
“What?”
“I mean your aura,” Regina clarified to Elena. “It’s steadier. Less fragmented and… stronger.”
“She’s healing,” Blue said softly, nodding in agreement. “But the timing is significant.”
Emma placed a cup of tea gently on the table in front of Elena, hesitating.
“Do you want anything else?”
“No thanks, Mom,” Elena said, without thinking. The word landed like a pebble in still water. Silence fell around the table. Even the magical texts stopped humming. Emma froze mid-motion. Her eyes flicked to Elena, then Regina, and back. Regina blinked once, then again, as though making sure she had heard correctly.
“You…in front of…”
“You just called her ‘Mom’,” Snow gasped, her eyes glistening.
“Oh…” Elena tilted her head. “I probably should have asked…”
“No,” Emma mumbled, suddenly shy. “It’s okay. You don’t have to take it back.”
“Took you long enough,” Henry smirked over the rim of his mug.
Regina didn’t say anything, just placed a hand lightly on Emma’s back. Her other hand brushed a stray curl from Elena’s cheek. Her eyes were glassy.
Elena and Emma both ducked their heads, cheeks pink, but the smiles didn’t leave their lips.
oOo
Later that afternoon, the table had been cleared, and the warm, easy atmosphere of morning gave way to the cooler focus of strategy and magical theory. Belle laid out a set of enchanted mirror shards that pulsed faintly in the candlelight.
“The ninth fracture is glowing brighter,” Belle said. “It’s no longer dormant. It’s humming with energy, like it’s waiting. Many years ago, Rumple attuned these shards to the Mirror of Fate, the same relic we believe Morgan is using.”
“The tenth fracture in the mirror is beginning to form.” Blue looked grave as she pointed to where the edge of one of the shards was faintly glowing. “We believe it will complete the circle Morgan needs.”
“For what?” Emma asked, voice sharp.
“For Elena to give her power. Willingly.”
“She would never—” Emma stopped as Regina placed a gentle hand on her arm.
“She might if she believes it's the only way to stop Morgan, or to save those she cares about.” Emma’s eyes darted to Elena, who sat quietly, her head bowed. She looked up as if she had been caught in the act of thinking things she shouldn’t have. She absentmindedly stirred her cocoa with her spoon, lost in thought.
“Elena,” Emma gently put a hand on her arm. “Please tell me you weren’t thinking of giving up your power.”
“No…” Elena mumbled.
“Kid—”
“She’s going to do the superpower speech,” Henry mumbled, quieting when Emma looked daggers at him.
“I wasn’t going to say anything about my superpower, actually.” She turned back to Elena. She opened her mouth to speak but then stopped and furrowed her brow.
“Emma, what’s wrong?” Snow asked from where she had been quietly listening.
“She’s cold.”
As if on cue, Elena’s hand slipped from the spoon. It clinked against her mug as it settled. Her hand fell, resting on the table. Her shoulders stiffened. Her eyes stared past the table, unfocused.
“Elena?”
She sat perfectly still, eyes open but unfocused. Her breathing was shallow, barely evident, and her fingers twitched slightly.
“Elena?” Regina’s voice was sharper now. She moved to her side, magic tickling at her palms. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
“Ellie? Look at me, Ellie.” Emma dropped to her knees beside Elena, grasping her hand.
“Trace-state,” Blue concluded quickly, her voice calm but urgent as she rose to her feet. “But it’s unstable.”
“Is she dreaming?” Belle asked.
“A sleeping curse?” Snow added.
“No,” Blue hummed, “she’s seeing something now. Not a dream, more of a waking vision.”
Suddenly, Elena blinked. Her whole body jerked slightly, and she took a deep breath. She clutched the edge of the table with one hand and tightened her grip on Emma with the other. She looked around at the circle of panicked faces.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, voice hoarse.
“Like hell you are,” Emma snapped, quickly softening. “What was that?” Elena swallowed, dropping her gaze.
“It was a vision,” she admitted. “…another one.”
“Another?!” Regina echoed. “How many have there been?”
“A few. They started in the hospital, but they’ve been happening more.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Emma asked Elena, still holding her hand.
“I didn’t want to make things worse. Everyone’s already scared. I didn’t want to scare you more.” Emma squeezed her hand tighter, staying quiet.
“You don’t scare us,” Regina said firmly, reaching across to wrap both hands around the hand that Emma didn’t already hold. “Not now, not ever.”
“What do you see when you go there?” Henry asked gingerly.
“A forest, but not a normal one. The trees are like mirrors. The sky is cracked. It isn’t quite dark, but it isn’t bright. There are these white threads everywhere, hanging from trees or maybe just falling from the sky… I’m not sure. There are reflections, almost memories, but they aren’t quite…right.”
“The Dreamscape,” Blue stated.
“It’s quiet there,” Elena said softly. “Like nothing can touch me. Like I don’t have to feel anything. No pain, no fear… not even hope. I can feel the mirror watching me. Not Morgan – the mirror. It’s like it just, somehow, knows.”
“They’re not just visions,” Belle explained. “They’re convergences. The walls between what is and what could be are thin. Morgan is using her influence to pull you toward the dream plane.”
“Then we go back to the mirror chamber.” Regina stood, her magic fizzing faintly around her.
“The one that Morgan held Ellie hostage in?” Emma asked, mouth agape.
“That place is tied to all of this. If we want to stop her, we need to fight the bitch on her own turf.”
“Then we go back there.” Emma nodded, her face resolute as her fingers close protectively around Elena’s. “Before it’s too late.”
oOo
Deep underground, the mirror stood.
No one touched it. No one whispered a word. No power was cast.
Yet the glass groaned.
A single hairline fracture, barely visible, began to stretch like a silk cobweb across the surface, a thread unravelling.
Morgan Le Fay opened her eyes and smiled.
Chapter Text
The fire crackled softly in the study. Outside, the wind howled, sharp against the glass, but inside the Mills-Swan home, everything was unnaturally still. Elena sat curled into one corner of the couch, a blanket draped over her legs, journal in hand, though she hadn’t recently written in the pages. Emma stood leaning against the mantle, nursing a glass of deep amber liquid. Regina paced slowly behind the couch, her own glass on the coffee table untouched, as if walking helped her untangle the thoughts that had been knotted for years.
“You said you’d tell me the truth,” Elena sighed. Regina stopped.
“I am telling you,” she said gently, “but the truth isn’t simple, or easy.”
Emma finished her drink and placed it on the mantle, crossing to sit on the armrest beside Elena.
“We owe you the full story. No more half-truths. No more shielding,” Emma agreed. Regina nodded, sitting on the couch beside Elena. She took a breath.
“It happened a long time ago, after we had triumphed over the Black Fairy…”
oOo
The Enchanted Forest shimmered under a shadowed sky. It remained unpredictable, fractured from too many broken curses and bleeding timelines. Emma had travelled there to investigate reports of old magic stirring, with Regina by her side.
That was where they first came across Morgan. She was already powerful. She had cornered a small enclave of mystics hidden deep in the forests near Avalon. They were guardians of prophetic lineage, children born with gifts tied to fate itself. Among them was a young girl who never spoke aloud, but whose dreams shaped weather patterns. Another child whispered the true names of stars. But so far, none had the prophetic power she craved. None had the power to dream and change the fates.
It was supposed to be a quick mission. Investigate the magical reports and then head back to Storybrooke.
However, Emma and Regina soon found themselves in a dungeon.
They had walked right into the trap. A call for assistance from a cloaked stranger. A claim that a temple guardian had gone rogue, trapping innocents inside a crumbling tower. But it was Morgan, and the tower was hers.
The walls were cold and damp. Magic-suppression runes glimmered faintly from the stone, etched deep into the mortar. Emma sat resting her back against the far wall of the cell, legs stretched out. Regina was slumped against the adjoining wall, pulling at her chains, whilst glaring at Emma.
“This is your fault.”
“You’re the one who stormed in and started throwing fireballs!”
“After you kicked the door open—"
“I didn’t kick it. I persuaded the door open.”
Regina exhaled sharply, attempting to fold her arms but getting caught in the chains, leading to another frustrated sigh.
“Honestly, Swan, you end up in more jail cells than actual criminals.”
Emma grinned, head tilted. “You noticed, huh?”
“Why do you always make jokes when you’re scared?”
“If I don’t,” Emma whispered, “things become too real.”
They fell quiet. The tension in the air had changed—softer now, less combative. Regina turned her gaze to the small, barred window high above.
“She’s dangerous,” Regina stated. “Morgan isn’t just power hungry. She’s desperate, and desperation makes people reckless.”
“She said something about the future not being written.” Emma furrowed her brow and looked at Regina. “That it could be taken or…change.”
“I’m afraid she’s likely right.”
Emma let out a heavy breath. “I should’ve known the ‘urgent help needed’ letter was a trap. Who even writes in cursive with magical ink these days?”
“Well, Swan,” Regina smirked, “perhaps if you spent less time flirting with bandits and pirates, and more time studying magical signatures…”
“Seriously?” Emma groaned. “We’re chained up and you’re going to roast me for my taste in questionable men?” Regina gave a look, arched brow, amused and fond. She glanced at the chains between them.
“I suppose there are worse things than being chained up with you.”
“What—” Emma choked on her breath. “Did you just…flirt?”
“I have no idea what you mean.” Regina batted her eyelids, feigning innocence.
The silence sat heavier between them. Rain echoed faintly around them, trickling down the stone from the barred window.
“I think Hook and I are done,” Emma said quietly. “I’ve been pretending for a while. Mom says I’ve been trying to convince myself it was the right story, the happy ending I was supposed to want. But…”
“But it wasn’t the right one.” Regina finished gently. “Not for you.”
“Do you think I can still find the right ending?”
“I think we’re writing it right now.”
Emma shuffled to sit closer to Regina, the chains clinking against the floor.
“Regina,” Emma said softly. “If we don’t make it out of here—”
“We will.” Regina took another look at Emma now that she was closer. “You’re hurt.”
“You should see the other guy,” Emma quipped, but her voice was softer than earlier. She was tired. Regina hesitated, then reached up. She cradled Emma’s face in her hands, brushing her thumb against the gash on Emma’s cheek.
“But if we don’t make it out—” Emma’s voice was raw, filled with urgency. “I want you to know. I—”
“I know, Swan,” Regina leaned forward, swiftly cutting off Emma. Regina hesitated for the briefest second, searching Emma’s face like a spell she couldn’t quite decipher. Then, without another word, she cradled Emma’s cheek and kissed her, not out of impulse, but choice. Quietly. Purposefully. Like the world might end outside, and the only thing that mattered was this moment.
Ignited with a new passion, Emma and Regina were able to unravel a weak spot in the runes, letting them slip from their chains and escape the icy cell.
Emma ducked behind a fallen boulder, swearing under her breath. The battle had moved into a thorny courtyard. Regina crouched beside her, eyes scanning the mirror shards around them. Morgan had begun weaving a net of dream-magic, white threads stretching across the trees.
“She’s trying to tear the veil between fate and freedom,” Regina muttered. “If she finishes that ritual—”
“She rewrites destiny,” Emma finished. “I got the SparkNotes. Just tell me you have a plan!” Their eyes flicked toward the child at the centre of the circle. A boy was sitting there in a trance, his hands glowing with faint silver and white, as if there was a layer of frost covering them.
“She’s drawing his power for herself,” Regina said. “If we don’t stop her—"
“Yeah, yeah. Apocalypse, etcetera.” Emma pulled her sword from its sheath, looking at Regina with a small smirk. “Let’s do this.”
Magic surged from Regina’s hands in a flurry of red and gold energy as she shielded the child.
“You don’t know what you’re meddling with!” Morgan hissed, eyes glowing as she swept her staff in arcs around her. “This world is stagnant. I’m trying to save it.”
“By stealing a child’s future?” Regina snapped. “Your sense of heroism seems skewed, dear.”
The battle was short and wild. Spells crackled as they shot past Regina’s ear. Emma’s blade crashed against Morgan’s magical barrier. Morgan wasn’t fighting as Emma had predicted.
“She’s buying time!” Regina shouted as Emma threw her blade at Morgan again. She fell back, putting her sword at her side as she joined Regina. Their hands raised and fizzing with magic potential, they threw an ancient, dream-binding spell at Morgan. But a spell that traps a soul between moments in dreams demands sacrifice.
A prophecy for a prophecy. A thread of what is not yet written.
They didn’t understand at the time exactly what they were trading. Just that they needed to do whatever it took.
The spell worked. Morgan screamed as she was pulled into the heart of her own cracked mirror. Her reflection fractured, the magic shattering her across dreams and time. The child was saved, but something was left behind. The courtyard fell silent. Morgan’s scream echoed into nothing. The child blinked awake. Emma stumbled, her knees hitting moss. Regina reached for her, cradling her. They were both breathless, triumphant, but changed. They didn’t speak about what the spell might have taken. Not yet.
oOo
Elena didn’t speak for a while. Her fingers were twisting her necklace, the same one that Emma had given her at her birth. She looked pale, but calm.
“The sacrifice,” she said at last. “The thing ‘yet to be written’. You think that was me. That’s why Morgan and I are connected.”
“We didn’t know.” Regina rubbed her forehead. “It was a concept, not strictly a person. Something that might have existed, someday. Plus, Emma hadn’t exactly been…open with me. About Henry having a twin. At least not then.”
“In my defence, I had only just realised that I was in lov—”
“Darling,” Regina cut Emma off with a knowing smile. Emma pursed her lips and returned to the pressing issue.
“The prophecy was meant to be abstract. Potentials. If we had known—”
“I know,” Elena said softly. “I’m not angry. You did what you had to. You saved that kid, and you stopped Morgan.”
“But you got caught up in it all,” Regina’s voice cracked.
“Yeah, but it also led me here. To you.”
“We’ll find a way to fix this, Lena,” Regina sighed. “We won’t let her take your power.”
“She’s not getting it. Our fates may be twisted, but they’re not fully written yet.”
Emma pulled Elena into a hug. Regina wrapped her arms around the pair, closing her eyes and savouring the moment. They felt as Elena tensed between them, pulling back and watching helplessly as her eyes blurred.
Elena dreamed, but it wasn’t like before. She stood in a field of fragmented mirrors. The sky was shimmering above her. There were versions of herself all around her, as if she had been split into thousands of different people, but they were all her. Just beyond the haze, Morgan watched.
“You don’t have to break,” Morgan said softly. “Surrender. Give me what is mine.”
“I’m not yours.” Elena took a breath. Her hands were glowing faintly. A distant crack echoed through the Dreamscape, not of surrender but of resistance. “I’m not giving up.”
She bolted upright as she heard a loud shattering above her. Sweat covered her brow. Elena realised that she was in the waking world once again. Emma was already rubbing her back, gentle words tumbling from her lips. Regina watched, expression unreadable.
“It’s happening,” she whispered. “Morgan is reaching.”
Elena’s hands were twitching. Trembling. She looked down. Light shimmered faintly across her skin, like starlight woven through her veins.
“What the hell—?” Emma gasped.
“You’re not just dreaming or having visions anymore,” Regina moved closer. “It’s manifesting.”
“What is it?” Elena turned her hands, studying the light. It wasn’t fire, nor was it traditional magic. It was softer, like it was refracted through a mist.
“It’s dreamlight,” Regina explained, taking one of Elena’s wrists and gently turning her hand as she examined the light. “Its magic drawn from the dream plane itself. Rare. Untamed. I’ve only ever read about it in ancient texts before seeing that boy in the Enchanted Forest. Elena is directly connected to the Dreamscape now.”
“Great, just what every parent wants. Uncontrollable magic in the house.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to summon it,” Elena said, voice shaking.
“I know, it's okay.”
“Is this…like Morgan? Are my powers like hers?”
“No,” Regina said firmly. “You’re nothing like her. She was never meant to hold this power. You were born with it. It’s your birthright.”
“I thought it was just another vision, but… Morgan was there. She was telling me to give her my power.”
Regina closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before looking at Elena.
“You’re getting stronger, and Morgan knows it.”
“Can I control the dreamlight?”
“Eventually, yes,” Regina confirmed. “But I’m not sure we have the time to really learn about it.” They watched as Elena’s hands slowly dimmed, though a faint stardust lingered at her fingertips.
“You okay?” Emma took Elena’s hands, squeezing softly.
“Yeah…” Elena nodded. “Just a little overwhelmed.”
“Join the club, kid,” Emma whispered. Regina rubbed her back.
“It’ll be okay, we’ll figure this out.”
oOo
The night deepened. Thunder murmured around the house. Upstairs, Elena stood at her window, eyes fixed on the shadows. She didn’t feel fear. Not now. Just clarity. Morgan’s voice kept calling her. She felt Emma and Regina’s warm presence, just a few doors away.
But this was not their battle.
Elena reached for her jacket, pulling it over her hoodie. Her hands still shimmered faintly in the moonlight. She slipped through the door quietly, bare feet silent against the floorboards. The wind tugged at the curtains as she passed. She pulled on her trainers and stepped into the cold night. Her necklace felt cold against her chest as she walked. Elena didn’t know if it was trance or choice, instinct or determination. The path was clear. She walked toward the chamber, the mirror, the final fracture.
Toward Morgan.
Chapter Text
The storm arrived in the early hours of the morning. It didn’t arrive quietly. It screamed, lashing waves against the docks and rattling windows of every house in Storybrooke. Thunder cracked like bone, and lightning streaked the sky with jagged veins of white. But it wasn’t just the weather. The storm carried something else. Something ancient. Something watching.
In the chamber hidden deep in the forest, the mirror shuddered. It had been quiet for weeks, humming faintly in the background and pulsing with unnatural life. Now, even with no hand near it, no spell cast, the glass fractured further. Thin cracks spiderwebbed across the surface like frost, reaching outwards in all directions. A faint, glowing mist seeped from its edges as dreamlight bled into the waking world.
oOo
Elena stood in the middle of a forest. At least, it looked like a forest. The sky above her was grey and swirling, as if the storm clouds were trapped behind glass. She told herself it was a dream, but the world didn’t shift like her dreams usually did. It was too sharp. Around her, mirror shards floated midair, slowly rotating like orbiting moons. Each one reflected her, although they weren’t exactly her. Younger, older, broken, laughing, crying… She turned slowly in the fog.
“You came,” echoed a voice behind her. Smooth, familiar, and low. Elena didn’t turn.
“I didn’t choose to come here.”
“Oh, but you did.” Morgan’s voice echoed around her. “The moment you stepped outside tonight, your feet brought you to where your heart had already gone.”
“This isn’t real.”
“Reality is subjective,” Morgan shrugged, stepping into view. She wore a crown of thorns that flickered with dark starlight. Her eyes had a faint glow to them. Elena thought it looked familiar, almost like a twisted version of dreamlight. “You’re exhausted. I can feel it.”
“I’m not giving you my power.”
“I’m not asking you to fight,” Morgan said gently and stepped closer, barefoot in the grass. “I’m offering you peace. You don’t have to carry the weight of fate. Pain. Fear. Let it all go. I’ll take it for you.”
The world around them shimmered. Cracks appeared in the trees. The sky darkened.
“Let me carry it, Elena. Let me take your burden.” Morgan reached out a hand. “You’ve suffered enough. I know what it feels like to be seen as a threat just for being born different. You don’t owe anyone your power.”
Elena’s breath caught in her throat. Her chest ached. The dreamscape shifted.
Elena stood alone in a long hallway. Doors stretched endlessly on either side. She recognised them. Her adopted father’s office. Her old bedroom door. The therapist’s office with pale walls and no windows. Footsteps echoed behind her. She turned.
No one.
She walked through the corridor. Doors whispered open as she passed. Memories she had tried to forget tugged at her. It was all real. It was all amplified. Ahead, Morgan waited, always just at the edge of the next door.
“You don’t have to be strong anymore,” Morgan said with a smile. “You just have to surrender.”
oOo
Emma was the first to notice.
“Elena’s gone,” she said, abandoning her coffee and heading upstairs.
“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Regina was two paces behind her. Regina stopped at the doorway to Elena’s bedroom, watching as Emma frantically paced.
“I mean the bed’s cold, her jacket isn’t hung up, and her boots are missing.” Emma’s voice was sharp, panicked.
“She wouldn’t just leave,” Henry said from where he stood beside Regina.
“No,” Regina whispered. “She’s being pulled.”
It didn’t take long to track her. They knew where she would go. The dreamlight in the air glowed through the trees. A trail of breadcrumbs leading to only one place: the chamber with the mirror.
When they found her, Elena was kneeling in front of it. Her eyes were open and unseeing, flecked with the glowing silver threads of dreams. The mirror glowed with a sickly light, entrapping her.
“Elena!” Emma dropped to her knees. She grabbed Elena’s shoulders, but the girl didn’t respond.
“She’s trapped inside,” Regina explained as she knelt beside Emma and Elena. “We’ll have to go into the dreamscape to find her.”
“Surely there’s another way—”
“We don’t have a choice,” Emma said, cutting off Henry. She pulled an old mirror shard from her jacket pocket, given to her by Belle weeks ago, in preparation. “If she’s in there, we’re going in too.”
“Together.” Regina took Emma’s hand.
“I’m coming too,” Henry stated, kneeling down on Elena’s other side. Emma opened her mouth to protest, but Regina nodded.
“Then let’s bring her home.”
The magic shimmered. Threads of silver and white wrapped around them, pulling them downward and into the mirror to the realm of dreams.
oOo
The dreamscape was chaos. Reflections swirled in the sky, fragments of memories and alternate paths. The ground beneath them cracked like obsidian glass. Emma, Regina, and Henry stood together, breathless and glowing faintly from the magic that had transported them. They moved carefully. Each step brought new distortions. Flicker of a birthday that never happened. A vision of Elena in the snow. A shadow of Emma in handcuffs. Regina’s magic burning out of control.
They saw her in the distance. Elena stood on a narrow bridge of mirrored glass. Morgan was behind her, whispering.
“Ellie!” Emma shouted, running forward. Morgan’s voice cut through the air.
“She was born with the power to see the future,” Morgan sneered. “I will own it. Rewrite it. Unmake the lies of happy endings. She’s already chosen.” Morgan smiled. “The child belongs to me now.”
“No,” Regina snarled, stepping forward. “We made the mistake once of leaving you with a shred of power. You are not taking our daughter.”
“Your mistake,” Morgan echoed. “Your mistake gave me her. Her pain, her confusion, her fate. You handed her to me. She is no longer yours to save.”
“Well, she’s not yours to steal,” Regina countered.
“We didn’t know,” Emma’s voice cracked. “ We’re not hiding behind excuses anymore. You want power? Take it from me. Leave her out of this.”
“You fool. You do not have the power I crave. Although…” Morgan hummed. “I suppose the power of a Saviour would give me a little extra—”
“No!” Elena turned slowly to where Morgan was sneering at Emma. Her eyes were wide. Her hands shimmered with the glow of her dreamlight. Shards reflected around her. One reflected her smiling in a home full of warmth. Another showed her alone but powerful. Another showed no ending at all. “I hear everything here. I have seen every version of myself. I’ve seen every ending.”
“And?” Morgan asked hesitantly.
“I choose none of them.”
The light around her surged, starlight breaking from her palms and rushing around like fireflies. The dreamlight pulsed and spread across the bridge.
“No,” Morgan hissed. “You don’t get to refuse fate!”
“I’m not refusing fate,” Elena concluded. “I’m writing my own.”
The glass beneath their feet cracked. The bridge shattered into shards, light rushing outwards like a tidal wave. The dreamscape began to collapse around them. The sky tore open. Morgan screamed as she fell.
But she wasn’t gone.
With a flick of her wrist, Morgan pulled them all down with her, into a collapsing dream stuck between realities. A liminal world shaped by memory, magic, and choice. A place of last chances.
The final battle had begun.
Chapter Text
The sky above shimmered with fractured stars, silver cracks slicing across a pulsing void. Beneath their feet, the ground churned, unstable and dissolving. Regina hit the ground hard, her palm catching a flare of fire that cushioned her fall. Emma landed beside her in a crouch. Henry managed to right himself a moment later, blinking in confusion.
“Elena?”
She was already standing, although her feet seemed not to quite touch the earth. Dreamlight danced across her skin. Above them, Morgan hovered like a shadow stitched from storm light. Her cloak curled and unravelled behind her.
“You could’ve given it to me,” She snarled, voice echoing around them. “You could have ended this, Elena.”
“I did end it, Elena responded. “You just couldn’t accept it.”
“I’ll show you just how fragile your pathetic dreams are,” Morgan screamed her fury, and they felt as they were pulled away from the battlefield.
Illusions danced around them before settling into a long hallway of buzzing fluorescent light and grey linoleum. The air was cold and close. The faint antiseptic sting of a hospital. Elena froze. She knew this place, had remembered it more than she wished to.
“I don’t like this,” she whispered. Regina, Emma, and Henry were next to her in seconds. Shadows moved around them, faint outlines of nurses whispering.
“Delusional episodes.”
“She’s making it up for attention.”
“Hysteria.”
The others heard the shadows too. Emma balled her fists, and Henry’s eyes widened.
“I told them I was dreaming things that were real,” Elena said, watching the shadows move. “No one listened. No one ever listened.” She watched through the doorway of a doctor’s office. A younger version of her sat, shoulders hunched, silent tears making tracks down her cheeks. A doctor shook his head.
“You just want to blame someone, to get attention,” A man in a suit stood over her, whom she recognised as her adoptive father. “Stop crying, you’re being pathetic.”
“I was alone,” Elena explained, stepping forward. “Even my father didn’t believe me. He made me feel broken.”
“You are not broken. You are a miracle.” Regina gently touched Elena’s shoulder.
“And you’re not alone,” Henry added. “You’ve got us.”
The young Elena looked at them. Her expression softened and she wiped away her tears. The nurses dissolved. The hallway shook. The walls gave way, and they walked forward, through the entryway to Regina’s office.
The room was ornate and sharp, unlike the softer office of the present day. A desk towered at one end, and behind it stood a cold version of her, arms crossed as she glared at a small boy clutching a storybook.
“I’m not crazy!” Young Henry shouted.
“You need to stop this nonsense,” dream-Regina snapped. “There is no curse.”
“You’re the Evil Queen, of course you’d say that—”
“Enough!” She roared. “If I hear one more fairytale—”
Henry’s face fell. The real Regina stepped forward, voice breaking.
“Oh gods… I remember… I said those things. I did worse. I tried to control you, Henry. I thought I was protecting you.”
“You made me feel so small, like nothing I believed in mattered,” Henry explained. He rested a hand on his mom’s shoulder, noticing how they slumped. “You changed.” Regina looked up at him. “You grew. You believed in me, and Elena, when no one else would.”
The dream versions of themselves faded into smoke, and Regina pulled Henry close.
“I was wrong, Henry. I should have always believed in you.”
The room darkened as they stepped through a newly appeared door. The room was lit by a glow of candles. Chains rattled against the stone of the dungeon. Regina gasped, noticing a version of herself and Emma in Morgan’s dungeon.
This version of Emma looked at Regina with cold, distant eyes.
“You think anyone could ever really love someone like you?” Regina flinched at dream-Emma’s words. “You’re a monster, Regina. You always were.”
“I saved people.”
“You killed more,” Emma contradicted. “We were never anything. You were just a distraction.”
“You said you loved me…”
“You really believed that? You heard what you needed to hear,” Emma snarled, getting closer to Regina. “You’re poison, Regina. Daniel, Graham, even Henry—everyone pays the price for loving you.”
Regina looked across at Henry, her eyes wide with shock and burning from tears. Elena felt as Henry’s hand snaked into hers, for her comfort or his, she wasn’t sure. Either way, she was thankful for it.
“How could someone so evil and irredeemable ever be loved?”
Regina fell to her knees, shoulders shaking with the sobs trapped in her chest.
“That’s not me.” Emma stated.
“But is it true? Is that how you really feel?”
“Regina, it’s not real.” Emma crouched in front of her partner. “We chose each other. I would choose you every time.”
“But—”
“I’ve seen your worst. You’ve seen mine. You are more than your past. I love you.”
Emma cradled Regina’s cheek, pulling her close, not for the first time, but like it mattered just as much as the first time.
“I never wanted perfect. I just wanted you.”
A tremor rocked the room as the wall crumbled next to Henry and Elena.
“That’s your bedroom door,” Henry gasped, looking at Elena.
They heard raised voices. Emma and Elena locked eyes before entering.
“You didn’t try hard enough!” A version of Elena shouted across the room. “You don’t want to know me; you just want to help yourself feel better.”
“That’s not true! I wanted you.” Dream-Emma took a breath. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel like a failure every second I look at you and see what I missed? What I gave up?”
“Maybe you should just go.”
“You hate me, don’t you?” Elena didn’t respond. Emma’s voice cracked. “Fine. I’ll stop trying.”
The real Elena looked across at her real mom, blocking out the dreams that flickered in front of her, playing out the memories. The words were heavy in the air, the pain fresh.
“Mom,” Elena whispered, her heart skipping when Emma looked back at her with tear-stained cheeks. “I was awful. Morgan didn’t even need to twist much of this to make it hurt.”
“Wait, this actually happened?” Henry asked from the corner, quieting when Regina gave him a gentle nudge.
“I hurt you too,” Emma said, swallowing thickly. “We were both scared and said things we didn’t mean. I promise, I won’t give up again. I’ll keep trying, forever.” Elena moved closer, and Emma wrapped her arms around her daughter, gently resting her chin against Elena’s shoulder. The memory dissolved into white. Elena stepped back.
“That’s enough, Morgan!” Elena’s voice cut through the illusions, bringing them back to the fractured battlefield.
“Do you not see? Your truths are so fragile. One crack, and you begin to break.” Morgan hovered above the broken dreams, eyes burning with grief and pain. “You think sentiment wins? You think this makes you strong?” She raised her hands, magic flaring.
“Stay back!” Emma called over her shoulder, rushing forward with Regina.
“What does she mean stay back?”
“Elena, maybe we should let them handle this,” Henry said, resting a hand on her arm. Her eyes were wide as she watched Regina unleash fire and Emma try and duck away from Morgan’s attacks.
“No,” Elena began to walk forward, dreamlight creating a sword at her side. As Morgan came down at Emma with her staff, Elena blocked her with the sword. Her strength waned, but Emma grabbed the hilt and pushed with her, sending Morgan flying backwards.
“I thought I told you to stay back.” Emma held onto the sword that Elena pushed into her hands. Elena gave her a look, and Emma raised her hands in defence before raising her sword to deflect another attack. Morgan’s attacks came fast and furious. Henry called out, making sure his family was out of harm’s way, believing they would win. Regina continued to send magic blasts across their heads. Each member of the family shielded the others as one. When Emma was knocked back, Regina caught her. When Regina fell, Henry pulled her up. Elena made her way slowly closer to Morgan.
“You can’t take my power, Morgan. I was never just a sacrifice for you to take.”
“You’re my daughter. You’ve always been my daughter.” Emma declared as she stepped beside Elena. Regina joined them.
“We’re a family,” she affirmed, taking Emma and Henry’s hands. “Always.”
“You tried to rewrite fate with pain,” Elena stepped forward, “but pain doesn’t go away when you bury it.”
“I just wanted to make the world fair,” Morgan trembled, falling in front of them.
“You don’t understand—”
“I do,” Elena murmured. “But I chose a different fate.”
Elena raised her hands. Morgan shifted as dreamlight wrapped around her, cocooning her in silken dreams. The world glowed around them.
“Rest, Morgan,” Elena whispered softly. “Dream of healing.”
Morgan was cast into a new dream. Elena stole a glance into the quiet forest where a child ran toward Morgan with outstretched arms before the mirror above them cracked. Glass rained down around them, prickling at their skin before the mirror shattered completely, pushing them back to Storybrooke.
oOo
Regina blinked awake beside Emma, the light and dark of their hair tangled together. She looked across, noticing Henry sprawled close by on the grey stone. The mirror lay in glistening fragments of stardust all around them. Elena’s eyes fluttered open, and she winced slightly, her head spinning. Shards of glass embedded in their skin, the tiny cuts and blooms of blood painting them with pain and proof. The sting showed they were alive. Emma caught Elena before she could sit up, pulling her close.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Regina helped Henry to limp across, wrapping her arms around him. She knelt, resting against Emma’s shoulder. Their fingers intertwined. She pressed a gentle kiss to Elena’s forehead.
“You did it, darling.”
“Where did you send her?” Henry asked.
“Somewhere she can rest,” Elena breathed. “Somewhere that I hope she can find peace.”
The family embraced amongst the ruins of the mirror.
The tenth crack in the mirror hadn’t ended anything. It had led to the beginning. Not of fate’s return, but of choice’s awakening.
Chapter Text
Sunlight slanted through the blinds in the mayor’s office, catching the dust as it drifted like tired fireflies. Files lay open on the coffee table, but Regina hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes.
Elena’s head rested in Regina’s lap; curls fanned across her skirt as they sat on the couch together. In the sunlight, she looked luminous with the dreamlight that lingered at her pulse points, a sky glow after the sun set. Lavender shadows hidden under her eyes and healing scars were sober reminders of what had recently been survived. Her eyes were following the flames as they flickered in the fireplace.
Regina stroked Elena’s hair in a soft pattern. She counted breaths and blessings. We broke the mirror, but the fractures are still mending, Regina thought, watching the soft rise and fall of Elena’s chest.
“Thinking?”
“Trying not to,” Elena murmured, her eyes opening slightly. “Every time I close my eyes, I see mirror shards and dream fragments.”
“They’ll fade.” Regina brushed a knuckle over one of the mirror scars that was healing.
“Maybe they shouldn’t,” Elena mused. “They remind me I made it through. It was all real, but we’re still here.”
Regina’s mouth quirked—half pride, half sorrow.
“Scars don’t prove the battle; you do.”
“Wake me if I start glowing?” Elena asked as her eyelids began drooping.
“I promise.”
A soft knock broke Regina’s thoughts, and she glanced at the opening door. Emma eased in, a tray balanced in one hand. Three mugs of cocoa and a jar of cinnamon to sprinkle sat on it, steam curling upwards through the cream. She paused when she saw them: mother and daughter folded together under morning light.
“She fell asleep grading Henry’s history notes,” Regina whispered, adjusting the blanket over Elena’s shoulder.
“Can’t say I blame her. I’d probably have done the same.” Emma smiled and set the tray down, the clink of mugs soft against the wood as the scent of cinnamon and sugar warmed the room. She lowered herself to the sofa’s edge.
“The dreamscape drained more energy than she’ll admit.”
“That scar—” Emma frowned and brushed a thumb across the silvery line on Elena’s neck, left from Morgan’s blade.
“She says it reminds her that the nightmare was real,” Regina murmured, “and that she won.”
Emma laced her fingers with Regina’s. “We did more than survive, ‘Gina. We changed the ending.” Regina exhaled.
“Sometimes I still wake up in that dream, in that cell. Back before you chose me.”
“I’d choose you again,” Emma said simply, “chains or no chains.” She leaned in and their foreheads touched, a quiet promise sealed between them.
“About those chains…” Regina smirked.
“You probably shouldn’t get too attached to that new vase by the window.” A small voice came from beside them, raspy from sleep. Elena slowly sat herself up, but stayed snuggled into Regina’s side.
“The one I just got from Zhaleh’s gallery?”
“Yep.” Elena looked with big eyes. “It’s going to meet a dramatic end by your birthday.”
“How does it break?” Emma asked. “Does Henry fly his drone in the house again?”
“You trip,” Elena added. Regina turned to Emma with a raised brow. “Something about Henry’s skateboard, I think.”
“Some Saviour I am—defeated a dream-sorceress but taken down by a seventeen-year-old’s wheels.”
“So, you’re putting the blame on Henry either way?” Regina asked.
“Of course.”
Regina rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it.”
“I do.” Regina placed a hand on Emma’s cheek, pulling her close and kissing her softly.
“Ugh, public displays of affection in the workplace? Really?” Elena teased, a small grin as she pretended to move away.
“You better get used to it, kid,” Emma stated with a spark in her eye, nudging her arm playfully. “You’ll be seeing plenty more of this…if you take the job.”
Elena blinked. “Job?” Regina glanced at Emma, then back at Elena, smiling.
“The Sheriff’s department has an opening for an apprentice. Part-time until you’re fully recovered. Your magic could help with the…stranger cases.”
“Since you’re not rushing off to college any time soon and you’re officially a hero now. You’d work with me, and maybe David a little here and there,” Emma added. “You’d be like my deputy. No pressure, we just thought—”
“Deputy Swan…” Elena’s eyes shone as she tested the words. Each syllable felt right on her tongue. “It has a nice ring to it. I think I’d like that.” Emma gave a small smile, looking down as she tried not to smile too much harder. Regina gave Emma’s hand a gentle squeeze, seeing how much Elena’s use of her new name meant. They hadn’t even discussed Elena taking Emma’s surname as her own, but it felt…right.
“It’s…It’s yours.” Emma didn’t just mean the job. The name had been chosen this time, not given, but it was a promise nonetheless.
Regina reached into the drawer in the table beside them. She lifted out a small box covered with a deep purple velvet, handing it to Elena.
“If you’re going to go out there being a hero again, I think you’ll be needing this.”
Elena looked at Regina and Emma with wide eyes before slowly opening the box. Inside lay a slender silver chain bearing a pendant of two charms welded together—a swan and an apple. The edge and back were etched with runes that glowed for a moment as she rubbed her thumb across them.
“A swan and an apple?”
“The apple was once my curse. Now, I’ve woven it into a blessing.” Regina gave a faint smile. “In dreams, apples symbolise knowledge and choice. This one’s for your autonomy. You are the one writing your own story.”
“And the swan?”
“Grace through transformation,” Emma explained gently. She gave a small smile to herself. “Swans are messengers between worlds. In dreams, they represent navigating change. And love, of course. Always love.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s warded to anchor dream-magic and protect you.” Regina lifted the clasp and fastened it behind Elena’s neck. “Plus, it has a bit of stubborn maternal magic from us both. You’re not just safe, you’re our daughter.”
Elena looked between them. Firelight glowed in Regina’s dark eyes whilst the glow of the sun danced in Emma’s. Elena exhaled, the last sliver of loneliness draining away. Elena touched the pendant, lingering on the cool metal.
“It feels…right.”
Chapter 17: Epilogue
Notes:
Surprise! There ended up being a secret epilogue!
Thank you all so much for reading and for your lovely comments! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this fic, and it has certainly motivated me to write more... stay tuned ;)
Sparkles,
K
Chapter Text
Time passed, and the stormy winter broke into a warm spring, each evening painted in lilac and rose. Dusk draped the streets in lilac and rose. On the front porch of the Mills-Swan home, four mugs of cocoa steamed into the cool air. Henry sprinkled extra cinnamon on top of his as Elena wrinkled her nose, failing to fully hide her grin.
“I’ll convert you one day,” Henry declared. “Both of you.” He grinned at Regina, who rolled her eyes.
“Unlikely,” Elena countered, sipping her cinnamon-free cocoa as she rocked the swing. Emma’s boots thudded as she leaned them on the railing. Regina gave a soft cough and pursed her lips with a pointed look. Emma slid her boots from the railing, back to the floor with a small, sheepish smile. Some things never changed.
“Ready for tomorrow? First day on the job, Deputy Swan,” Emma asked, diverting the attention back to the kids.
“Ready, Sheriff Swan.”
Regina watched them—her family—against a newly mended sky. Dreamlight no longer bled through the seams of the world. It simply shimmered at Elena’s fingertips when she laughed and glistened around her in the moonlight without a threat. A soft wind rustled the apple trees, and somewhere deep in the forest, the silence gave way to the quiet conversations of night birds—no mirrors or nightmares.
Henry broke the silence first. “I keep waiting for another crisis.”
“We’re allowed evenings off, Author,” Emma laughed, nudging him with her boot. The silence settled again. Fireflies blinked in the garden, flitting between the lavender. Emma’s hand found Regina’s. Henry wrapped a blanket around himself and Elena’s shoulders.
“I always knew something wasn’t right before I got to Storybrooke. Before I found you all. Like there was more to my destiny.” Elena looked around at her mom’s and brother. “I just had…a feeling.”
Regina smiled, echoing words from long ago:
“Sometimes a feeling is the only destiny you need.”
Four mugs clinked together. The last of the storm clouds slid beyond the horizon, making way for the sunlight.
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