#emma swan is harrys mom no one can change my mind

[descendantofthesparrow]

Harry Hook x reader - regret

anon request

If requests are open, could you do some kind of writing about how Harry would react to Ireader saying she’s pregnant, how he would be throughout the pregnancy and birth, and how he’d act when first holding his baby, you can choose the gender. Could you make it angsty to the max with a fluff overload at the end? You as your worms are amazing!! Hi, same person with the pregnant reader. Could you start their relationship out as him ‘graciously’ (he just wants to kiss her) teaching her how to kiss? And i meant to say your works are amazing too, along with you yourself. Okay, that’s all I’m gonna ask you, sorry if this is bothering you.

“never have I ever been…kissed” most of the group laughed, taking a drink, all except you. Uma turned raising her brow “(y/n)?”

You gave a shy smile, shrugging “I've never been kissed” you didn’t notice gil wiggling his brows at harry, who turned red.

You sighed, looking at the clock on the wall and standing. “its late, im going to go to bed, night”

“night” the crew called after you, you sighed as you walked to your room, stepping out onto the main deck of the lost revenge.

You stopped, looking towards Auradon, the shine from the lights making you feel sick.

“so ye have never been kissed eh?” you turned slightly, harry stepping out from the darkness of the lower-deck, you shrugged.

“no ones ever expressed interest in doing so” you muttered, leaning on the rails. Harry felt his chest clench, you sounded so sad.

He had to fix it.

“well,” he grinned, walking over and leaning next to you “I could teach ye? So when someone does want ta kiss ye they’re not disappointed?”

You made a face, slightly offended, turning to harry and glaring at him “what is that supposed to mean?!” Harry's flirty grin dropped, his brows furrowing.

“wait no that no-“ you huffed, turning to walk away when Harry's arm reached out and grabbed your arm, turning you around to face him.

“that wasn’t-I didn’t mean- fuck im sorry” you kept your glare and crossed your arms. “I wanted to-wanted ta….fuck can I kiss ye?”

Your eyes widened and your shoulders dropped, tilting your head as your face heated up “wh-what?”

“can” Harry took your hands in his, shyly biting his lip “can I kiss ye?” you blushed, slowly nodding. Harry grinned, pulling you in and pressing his lips to yours.

Your heart fluttered, your eyes closing and your arms wrapping around his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up.

“wanna take this into meh room?” you gasped and nodded, harry carrying you into his room.

And that’s how you two got together, and now, two and a half years later you stared at the little pink and white stick, with two lines staring back at you.

You were pregnant.

And you were terrified of how Harry would react, yet so happy to know that within you was a perfect mix of you and harry.

God, you hoped harry would be as excited as you were

=

“yeh have ta get rid of it” your heart shattered, tears burning at your eyes as you watched harry pace the room, the little pink stick in his hands, cracking from his grip. “w-what?” your voice shook, flinching as harry whipped around to face you.

“you have to get rid of it!” he yelled “the isle is not a place for kids and frankly I don’t want one of those gremlins, this place is full of them already!”

You took a step back, carefully watching his arms and hands, your own going to cover your stomach.

“but-but”

“BUT NOTHING” harry snarled, chucking the stick at the wall, it shattered at the impact, you squeaked in fear, back hitting the wall. “I DON’T WANT THE DAMN THING AND IF YOU DON’T GET RID OF IT I WILL!”

You saw his eyes look towards his hook and you stood and bolted out of his room, sobbing as you raced off the deck and ran as far as you could, missing Uma calling out to you.

Uma watched as your form became smaller, she snarled, turning to see harry, hook in hand, staring off in the distance.

“WHAT!” Uma snarled, storming up to harry and pulling him down to her height “THE FUCK DID YOU DO!” harry huffed, pushing umas hand off his shirt.

“shes pregnant and I told ‘er to get rid of it” umas face dropped and paled...

“YOU DID FUCKING WHAT?!” harry jumped, frowning in concern when he saw just how horrified uma was.

“wha-what's wrong?”

“you-“ Uma muttered, stating yo pace around the deck, holding her head in her hands “you really are fucking- you really don’t know- my god you fucking idiot”

“uma” harry interrupted her “what are ye talking about?”

“YOU BASICALLY TOLD HER TO KILL HERSELF YOU DOLT!” harry turned white, his eyes seeming to shrink in shock “wha-what-ah!”

Uma stomped up to him and harshly poked him in the chest. “DON’T YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT THE ABORTION TECHNIQUES HERE ARE EXTREMELY DANGEROUS?! ITS SAFER FOR HER TO CARRY THE BABY FULL TERM OR HAVE A MISCARRIAGE THAN TO ABORT IT, WE DON’T HAVE ANY REAL MEDICAL TOOLS REMEMBER?! IT WOULD KILL HER FROM AN INFECTION OR BLOODLOSS!!!”

Harry sunk to the floor, tears burning at his eyes, and….he had threatened his love to do it himself, his shaky hand released his hook, the metal clanging as it hit the floor.

“NOW SO HELP ME HADES IF YOU DON’T FIND HER AND APOLOGIZE I WILL JAM MY FIST, ALL DICK AND BALLS UP YOUR SCROTUM!”

Harry shakily got to his feet, wiping the still dripping tears from his cheeks, nodding to his captain.

“yeah, im-im sorry cap’n” uma growled, and he flinched from the roar of waves crashing against the ship.

“you better be, now bring her back, I would hate to be down a quartermaster AND a first mate.” Uma turned in a flourish, her hair whipping around behind her.

Harry glanced at his hook, deciding to put it back in his room, he didn’t want to make (y/n) think he was actually going to do it himself.

A few minutes later, he rushed off into the settling smog of the isle, his classic red jacket in his hands, he needed to find (y/n) and fast, who knows what would happen to her…to them while out on the cold isle night.

=

Your chest hurt, it hurt so bad, you could feel your heartbreaking, you could understand why Harry didn’t want a kid, the isle was no place for one, even if there were already over a hundred on here already.

But the way he had said it….god you just wanted to hide away from him forever, you had never seen him so angry, so…cruel…he was truly like his father.

You didn’t hear footsteps draw near, didn’t bother to notice someone near you till a heavy coat draped over your shoulders. You gasped, covering your midsection, looking up to see sad ocean blue eyes.

“im so sorry” Harry's voice cracked, he fell to his knees in front of you, bowing his head to his chest, making his self smaller. “im so sorry, I shouldn’t have said any of those things, im sor-“ he sobbed, reaching out slightly to press his hand on your waist “im so sorry, I can't lose yeh, im so sorry”

You rubbed your snotty nose on your sleeve, leaning forward into Harry's arms, who sobbed and held on to you tightly.

“i-“ you croaked “I understand why you don’t want kids it's just…harry it would kill both of us in the process to well..you know?” harry sniffed, pulling back slightly and nodding.

“Im sorry, im such an idiot, I should know about this shit, when I have two sisters, I was ignorant and im sorry, forgive me?”

You sniffed, wiping off your tears and snot, giving a shy nod “yes, but never do that again hook, first and final warning”

Harry sagged in relief, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest.

“thank yeh lassie, I promise, ill take care of both of yeh to the best of my ability”

=

Facilier had kicked him out, apparently, he was too “panicky” to be in the room with (y/n), apparently, he would only stress out (y/n) more!

But now he was even MORE panicky!!!!! And now he had Gil holding him down, preventing him from bursting back into the room.

Docter's orders.

Two hours later, Uma opened the door with Facilier walking out. She smiled and gestured for Harry to come in, holding a finger in front of her mouth.

Harry walked in silently, tears streaming down his face as he caught sight of his daughter.

Pale pink cheeks, a tuff of (h/c) hair on her little head, tiny hands gripping her mother's shirt.

“Harry” (y/n) whispered, her face shining with pride (and a little sweat) “come here, someone wants to meet you~” Harry gave a shaky nod, his hands trembling.

“shes so” his voice cracked, a grin splitting on his face “so beautiful~” he reached toward her, hesitating a bit, gasping when the little babe opened her, eyes ocean blue- just like his, and giggled, reaching out from under her little red blanket and grasping onto his finger.

Harry let out a sob, collapsing to the floor, a look of pure awe on his face, staring at the little angel.

Why did he ever want to hurt her?

“what are we gonna name her?” you whispered, staring at Harry as he cooed at your daughter. It was soo different than 8 months ago when he wanted you to abort the little one.

But luckily for you, by the time you were due, you had long been in Auradon.

“Emma” Harry whispered, leaning forward to nuzzle the babe's squishy face. “Emma Swan Hook”

You beamed, laughing as “Emma” began to giggle as her father kissed her face. “for your mom? It's perfect, welcome to the world little Emma~”

You carefully lifted her, leaning forward and pushing her into Harry's chest, who quickly wrapped his arms around her, her head in the crook of his arm.

“mind her head, there you go” you whispered, smiling as Harry let out another sob.

“God I love ‘er” he whimpered, lifting her slightly and lowering his head, pressing his forehead to hers. “I love ‘er I love ‘er”

“and she loves you, I can tell” you smiled, watching as Emma laughed and reached up to harry, placing her hands on his cheeks.

“and I love you (y/n)” harry stood from the floor, sitting down on the bed next to you. “so much”

“I love you too har” you muttered, sleep overtaking you. You passed out on Harry's shoulder, smiling as Harry's coos and emmas laughter faded in the background.

---the end~---

perm taglist

@mockeryhamato​

[imogenlefay]

oooh, a ship game! tagged by @perfectromanceinmymind​ who i just started adoring more for reading Imzadi. ok, let’s get into this!

rules: Movie/TV ship questions; answer with a GIF; no repeats

1. First ship - Janeway and Chakotay (Star Trek: Voyager)

yeah, I KNOW. since i started my rewatch i’ve been complaining about how boring chakotay is and how captain mom - i mean mommy - i mean janeway deserves someone way more interesting. hell, i’m pretty sure i’ll be shipping Q with her over chakotay. and just see waht will happen when seven of nine shows up. ...but yeah. sue me. it’s THERE. it’s obvious. it’s just also very, very boring. 

2. First OTP - Lily and James (Harry Potter)

so, i know, tons of issues with harry potter. but that was a fandom i was super invested in. ctually, not sure that’s the right way to put it. i was super invested into the books, waxed and waned a bit... and the funny thing is, i didn’t care about the whole harry-ron-hermione-ginny thing until i started reading fandom things and was totes fine with whatever was happening (actually kinda rooting for ginny since book 2). didn’t really care about these ships. but lily and james? from first finding out about the marauders, i was on board of that ship. also, snape was a creep and a horrible person, and a nice guy, and that was not romantic

3. Favourite current ship - Sebastian and Blaine (Glee)

do i have to say it? seblaine from glee. these two have barley 15 minutes of screentime, but the chemistry is just there. i still think they were set up to be at least a midgame ship that fell through when grant gustin was busy with the flash, which given the writing on glee and the insistance on klaine as an endgame might have actually been for the better, but there’s just something about them. if blaine’s in the room, sebastian’s eyes are on him. when sebastian shows up, blaine’s mood lifts. Just so much potential, wasted again - but that’s the glee thing. 

4. Shipped from the first minute - Dean and Castiel (Supernatural)

sooooo, i won’t say they’re canon, but they’re half-canon and broke the internet. now, keep in mind, i stopped watching supernatural around season 8? the one in which metatron showed up, idk. it got so boring how every season another main character was the bad guy, the winchesters got more toxic, and of course, the treatment of cas. so i’ve seen from gift that got super toxic. but come on. i’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. best entrance ever, electric chemistry, gradually growing connection... i’m ignoring most of supernatural canon, but that was magic. 

5. Wish they had been endgame - Barney and Nora (How I Met Your Mother)

my shipping history with himym is... spotty. i liked ted/robin, was fine with them breaking up, and reaaaally got into barney/robin. until they got together, were awful and broke up. sure, i blamed the writing, but that short stint killed my enthusiasm. enter nora. sweet, smart, confident nora who is not ashamed to admit she’s a romantic and clearly state what she wants, who calls barney on his bs and won’t let him walk all over her. and also, the first woman barney actually wanted to be in a relationship with. even with robin, lily had to bully them into it. i thought she was really good for him, and he was at his best with her. hated how she was pushed aside to bring back more barney/robin drama (who srsly brought out the worst in each other) still my headcanon that he runs into her again when he’s more mature, caring for his daughter. but alas, has to remain a headcanon. (also, it’s a pic cause i literally can’t even find a gif)

6. Wish they had been canon - Bashir/Garak (Star Trek: DS9)

sorry, not sorry. the dynamic between is amazing - the brilliant but naive new doctor, excited like a freaking puppy, meeting the mysterious spy pretending to be a tailor while trying to move away from his past. there is SO much chemistry, fascination, intrigue between them, even if they aare so fundamentally different. just... damn. except at some point midway they stopped giving them scenes. were they afraid of the chemistry? idk but i’ll spread the rumor. because we were cheated. 

7. Ship everyone else hates - Ted and Robin (How I Met Your Mother)

i get it. the writing had issues. writing an endgame ahead of time can backfire. ted backtracking to robin again and again gets really annoying. the mother was seriously amazing and i still can’t believe they pulled her off so well after all the buildup. and the pacing of wasting a whole season on a wedding for a couple that gets divorced within like five minutes is awful. i know all that. but i honestly think they work. their first relationship was seriously sweet - nothing like the trainwreck between barney and robin - and for them to come together when the timing is right, they both grew and matured, and are in the right places in their lives... idk, they work for me. 

8. Don’t even watch the show but still ship - Rory and Jess (Gilmore Girls)

i literally only know gifsets of them. they look cute. 

9. Wish they had a different storyline - House and Cameron (House MD)

i seriously shipped them so much in season 1. their date was sweet, especially how before wilson told her to please not break house’s heart. but after the date, they just threw it out. i had some hope again when she left his team and returned as head of the ER, just cause i thought it changed the power dynamic and maybe they had a shot. that’s what i would have liked to see. that they work together occasionally, and he starts seeing her more as an equal and maybe build something from there. would probably been way healthier than the toxic crap with cuddy. 

10. Actually endgame - Emma and Hook (Once Upon A Time)

oh hi, jennifer morrison, haven’t seen you in a bit. so, i also stopped watching once upon a time, as the stories got too wild and i never got into regina’s big redemption, which consisted of *checks notes* deciding she’s redeemed now and screw anyone who disagrees. but i did love captain swan. did not see that coming. like, sure, hook flirts from their first interaction, but i was against them, given how antagonistic they were. but come season 3 and neverland, and their kiss? and damn. they took chemistry, and actually built something from it, and this time, it freaking worked. which is rare. so yes, so many issues with the show, but these two? ready to set sail, captain! 

tagging @blainesebastian​, @seblaineaddict​, @glitzgustin​, @ejaycaswell​ and @liloandsoon​, as well as anyone else who wants to take a spin at this

[katie-dub]

The Princess of White Chapel (9/12)

Dr Killian Jones is having a terrible day. He’s got a mission, he’s got a time machine, he’s got … drunk. What could possibly go wrong?

AO3 | Tumblr

Rated M for alcohol use, violence, minor character death, frank discussions of depression and grief.

The delightful @distant-rose and @ultraluckycatnd beta’d this fic and @princesse-swan made my gorgeous art. Thanks go to all of them, the organisers of @captainswanbigbang and everyone who’s reading this! 

Killian returned to work the very next day, not thinking to grumble about sacrificing his Sunday when he knew how much was at stake.

The heat and humidity that had mercifully vanished yesterday were back with a vengeance. Even the short walk to his lab left him feeling sticky and glistening with sweat. His top buttons might never know how it felt to be fastened again, judging by the endless heatwave that rendered them useless, his thick chest hair providing more than enough protection from the elements. (In fact, in his more desperate moments he found himself musing on the benefits of shaving it off, willing to sacrifice his body hair to stave off heat stroke. Give him another few days of overheating and he just might crack and do it.)

It was actually something of a relief to spend the day in the air conditioned lab, even if he found himself struggling to unlock the mystery of how he had made such a mess of his machine.

He had to work hard not to fixate on how Emma might be spending her day; on whether she was safe. He knew she could handle herself, he just wished that she didn’t have to. But, this was the best way for him to help. He had to focus on finding a solution, on sending everyone back to their realm, on sending her home.

It became routine.

Wake up, go their separate ways, save the world, home to talk and laugh. Sometimes take a walk by the river, sometimes go to the grassy spot by the Thames for more people watching, sometimes show her films so she’d understand the comments she’d hear about herself from strangers - Harry Potter, Star Wars, Wonder Woman.

He would share stories of his day to make her laugh and she did the same.

“A mermaid showed up in the Thames today.”

“A mermaid? Bloody hell.”

“Yeah - not even a nice one like Queen Ariel - one of the real nasty sorts that tries to lure sailors to their death and all that.” She rolled her eyes. “I sent her packing - mermaids don’t need portals to cross realms, she just heard about the carnage and wanted to join in.”

“They don’t tell you that side of the story in the Disney film.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind.”

With every day that passed, he found himself drawn closer to her. He would sit a little closer to her on the sofa as they chatted. He hugged her just a little tighter and a little longer as they said goodnight. He fought that little bit harder not to give into the urge to kiss her as they said goodbye in the morning.

He was falling for this enchantress, and he was hopeless to fight it.

It was Thursday before there was any change to their routine. He stepped through the door and was immediately accosted by Emma.

“Hey. So, I hope you don’t mind, but I -”

“Hi there!” Killian’s eyes bugged out of his head as a red dragon about half his height jumped into his line of sight, cutting Emma off.

“George, we talked about this,” Emma admonished the dragon. “You were meant to let me speak to Killian first.”

Killian looked up at Emma, completely stunned. What was happening? Where had he come from? More importantly, why was he once again giving shelter to a dragon?

“His name is George? That is the worst name for a dragon.” He was going mad, but that was all his mind could conjure up to say at this utterly bizarre sequence of events. He shook his head and walked into the living room, hoping that if he ignored it, it might go away.

“It’s the name my mother gave me!” retorted George, faint wisps of smoke spewing from his nostrils as he stormed after Killian. “And I know you aren’t talking shit about my mother.”

"I just…” Killian ran his hand through his hair in distress as he turned and glared at Emma who had trailed in after the pair of them, looking sheepish. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself and said in as steady a voice as he could manage, “Emma, why have you brought another bloody dragon into my home? Lily was bad enough."

"Don't think you can talk shit about my cousin either,” George sassed him.

"Of course, I should have known you were related," he said, giving George a fake smile. “You’re both annoying as fuck.”

There was a flash of red as the dragon leapt for him… But then Killian found himself pushed back against the wall as though by invisible hands and blinded by light. Emma stood between them with her hands held up, creating a shield of pure white light that was separating him from the feisty dragon.

“If I let you two down, promise you won’t attack each other,” Emma said in a stern voice.

“Yes, mom,” George replied even as Killian said, “I won’t make the first move.” Killian’s reply earned him a glare from Emma, but she released her magic all the same and he could move freely once more.

“Are you going to explain what’s going on here?” Killian pleaded with Emma, ignoring the way George was sticking his tongue out at him.

“So, you know those dragon statues around town?” Emma began tentatively.

Killian clenched his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in exasperation. “Yes.”

“They seem to have come to life.”

“Of course they have.”

“This one’s called George.”

“I gathered.”

“He was scared and all alone and well, he is Lily’s family so -”

“So now we have a pet dragon?”

“Surprise?” Emma said weakly, as George mumbled ‘who you calling a pet?’ under his breath.

He stared at her for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. “I should have seen this coming really. You’re a princess. Of course you need a talking animal sidekick to complete the whole Disney aesthetic.”

He was aiming for gentle teasing, but she went tense, just as she always did whenever her royal lineage came up. He should know better than to poke at that obvious sore spot just because he was annoyed with her - even if George was a fire hazard, and was currently watching the unfolding conversion with undisguised glee. So dragons enjoy metaphorical fires just as much as real ones. Good to know, he thought. He might as well have fucking popcorn.

Emma narrowed her eyes. “I don't know what that means,” she said coldly, “but I know when I'm being insulted and -”

“Not an insult just a fairytale -” he caught himself before he said cliché, having enough self preservation to avoid making this even harder. “Just an observation. Disney was a, a er-” Killian paused, realising that animator, film maker, or any other usual descriptors would be meaningless to her. “He was a storyteller. His princesses always had talking animal friends and sang a lot -”

“I don't sing,” Emma interrupted.

“I beg to differ. You sing in the shower -”

“You been watching her shower?” George asked, horrified. “Oh honey, you have to find yourself a better prince.”

Killian's eyes widened in alarm at George's assumption. Looking at Emma's cold fury, she obviously thought that too.

“I didn't - I haven't - you sing loud ok?” Emma gritted her teeth. “It's fine, wonderful, actually. Your voice is enchanting, but I can hear it from outside the bathroom. Or, I don't know, maybe the acoustics in the bathroom are weird? I haven't really had many.. It doesn't matter, I'm sorry. Keep your little pet -” George scoffed indignantly “- I'll just -” He walked into the bathroom himself, closing the door behind him for an escape. Not before he heard George say ruefully, “he's no Prince Charming.”

Despite himself, this jibe stung. He knew he was no knight in shining armour, and he hardly thought himself worthy of a princess, but much as he knew that, he still had this irrational hope in his heart that she might feel different, and it hurt for someone else to point out how vain that hope was.

This is a good thing, Killian tried to tell himself, things were getting a little too cosy between you and Emma. No use settling into a domestic life with someone that you spend every working hour trying to permanently separate yourself from. Not to mention George will be able to help her, should she need it. Assuming he’s a little more reliable than his cousin, of course, he thought bitterly.

They hadn’t seen or heard from Lily once since she’d left his flat and that was a full two weeks ago now. Emma had looked simultaneously sad, annoyed and resigned to this treatment when he’d happened to ask after her one time.

“Oh, this is typical Lily, talks about how close we are, all these things she wants my help with, adventures she wants to go on, then poof! she’s gone and I’m lucky if I see her again any time in the next three years.”

He was right that George’s presence created something of a wedge between him and Emma. The dragon just annoyed him - no way around it - and while it could sometimes be fun to trade barbs with him, he found himself wishing for a bigger flat.

“Jealous, mate?” George had taunted, imitating Killian’s accent, on that first night he spent in their home as he had waited at the door to the bedroom.

“Of the princess’ new pet? Hardly,” Killian scoffed, although he found he did have to remind himself that George would be curled up at the foot of the bed like a dog.

“You should try telling your face that.”

Killian was about to answer back when Emma had opened the door to let George in. “Everything OK out here?”

“Fine” they both answered instantaneously.

She eyed them both suspiciously. “Right, well, goodnight Killian,” she said and turned and headed back into room.

“Night sweetie pie!” George called gleefully, then dropped his voice and hissed, “your eyes are greener than hers,” before following her and slamming the door with his tail.

Killian had glared at the closed door and found himself resisting the urge to poke his tongue out at it.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it was probably a good thing really. He didn’t need to get even closer to an unattainable woman. But he couldn’t deny that he was delighted when Regina had messaged him inviting them to dinner at her place on Saturday.

They were lounging on the sofa munching on toast when he got the message. He was scrolling through Twitter mindlessly on his phone. Emma, having apparently finished Neverwhere, was now reading The Golden Compass. George was stretched out on the floor in a patch of sunlight that streamed in through the large windows, soaking up the heat that was already blazing despite it only being 8am.

“We’ve had a summons from Regina. Her Majesty requests our presence at her house tonight. Sorry, George, the Mills-Locksley Residence has a strict no pets policy,” he said with a smirk at the disgruntled dragon.

“And what exactly am I meant to do while you’re off having fun?” George huffed, hands on hips and wisps of smoke escaping from his nostrils.

Killian tried to look sympathetic, but he knew it came out as undeniably smug. “Alas, you’ll just have to annoy yourself tonight.”

George stomped off to the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

“Seriously?” Emma said with a disapproving glare. Killian merely shrugged. He was unable to find it in himself to care when he felt like he was melting, the heat short circuiting his ability to think logically.

This lack of perspective turned him into a simmering ball of frustration as he got ready and left for work. He nearly wrenched the tap off when the water took too long to cool down. He barked out swear words at a cyclist who made the mistake of veering into his path to avoid the fairy that had suddenly appeared in their way. He swatted at another fairy who had the misfortune to materialise before him, sending the poor creature flying into a wall. Dr Smee had wisely only nodded at him as he stalked into the lab, sensing at once that he did not wish to be disturbed.

It wasn’t until he had spent a solid hour cooling off in his lab that he began to calm down. And of course, regret followed.

He wasn’t good in the heat, Britain wasn’t built for it, and Killian himself even less so. His mother affectionately called him a “little hot bod” as he stubbornly refused to wear a coat as a child on all but the coldest of days and was quick to temper in the summer when the sun caused his blood to boil. Others were less kind, calling him hot-headed and fiery. He often thought that it was the others who had it right. This heat wave was fogging his brain and he despaired of ever finding a solution while the temperatures blazed.

And sorting out this mess was becoming increasingly urgent. At first only London had seemed affected by the oddities causing the ripples in reality and random realm crossing, but now they were spreading throughout Britain.

A famous statue of Merlin outside the Burger King in Carmarthen, Wales had caused widespread consternation when it magically transformed into the wizard himself.

(Although whether people were more shocked at the magical mishap or that Merlin proved not to be a wizened old man with a long twisting beard, but was in fact a handsome black man was debatable. In fact, if it weren’t for the stunned customers of the Burger King, who’d been distracted from their burgers for long enough to film the spectacle, Merlin might have been dealing with accusations of actually stealing the treasured Merlin’s Oak. As it was there was a decidedly nasty, racist edge to some of the comments made about the bemused wizard, who only wanted a way to get home.)

The Isle of Man had apparently vanished in a cloud of mist. Residents of the island were still contactable, although irritated at being blighted by poor visibility in the midst of what should have been one of the sunniest summers of their lives. Meteorologists were stumped by the strange occurrence, but one of the island’s leading mythologians insisted that they had actually been shrouded by Mannanan’s cloak. Reports in Ireland of someone claiming to be a sea deity with an invisibility cloak, while mostly dismissed as the ravings of someone who’d enjoyed a little too much Guinness, did seem to corroborate this theory.

Killian had to admit that this meant very little to him - he always got the place confused with the Isle of Wight and he’d never been to the tiny island in the Irish Sea. He only remembered the name at all because he quite liked the Tour de France and Manx Missile, Mark “Cav” Cavendish, the cyclist came from there. But still, an entire bloody country disappearing from view, even a tiny one that residents apparently called “the rock”, was deeply concerning.

And bizarrely enough what appeared to be genuine photographs from reputable sources were now emerging of the Loch Ness Monster, delighting fans all over the world who were now flocking in ever larger numbers to the Scottish lake.

The rebuild of his machine was almost complete, he only had to figure out how to reverse the changes that his machine had wrought upon the laws of physics that had somehow resulted in elements of an alternate universe forcing their way into the real world. No big deal.

Perhaps Emma was right - maybe this was all just magic. Perhaps where they were going wrong was to assume that they were in the Land Without Magic, and sorcery was the missing link in his calculations.

Or perhaps he needed London to cool the fuck down so he could sleep at night and stop theorising like a madman.

It was probably that.

As he toiled the day away, the sky gradually darkened. The storm clouds gathered, hanging over the London skyline with menace.

Killian sighed as he glanced out the windows just before he left for the day. He knew they needed this storm to break the intense heat, but he didn’t much relish the prospect of living through whatever damnation Thor had sent their way.

Bloody hell, Thor himself better not show up.

The thought was only halfway to joking - he'd seen way too much by this point to dismiss it as absolute nonsense.

As he stepped out of the glass doors the first drops of rain started. He lingered in the shelter gazing at the spiked archway before him - it looked even more threatening in the gloom of the storm clouds. Should he bother with an uber? It’s just a little rain, he decided, might even be refreshing, and strode forwards with purpose.

He quickly came to regret this choice. He’d never known anything like it; British rain just didn’t come in this flavour. They were used to it raining off and on, when the weather could never quite decide what it wanted to do and would send a sudden shower to soak you when you’d been tricked by the sun into stashing your umbrella or removing your raincoat. They were used to it chucking it down at the perfect angle to render your umbrella entirely pointless. They were used to fine, misty rain, the kind that makes you feel idiotic if you carry an umbrella, but really gets you wet - even if you brought the brolly. (Really it was a wonder that anyone in Britain bothered with the bloody things, considering the lengths the rain went to to sneak past this meagre defence.)

But this rain? It was warm. The storm was meant to break the heat, not somehow, inexplicably add fuel to the fire. The hot, fat drops of rain left him feeling stickier than before, his shirt clinging to him as rain mixed with sweat, rendering the white fabric transparent and making a mockery of his refusal to bare his chest like the tomato-skinned residents of the city.

As the rain got heavier he started to run, briefly cursing his lack of umbrella, however pointless they may be.

He was soaked by the time he reached the flat. He resisted the urge to shake the rain off like a dog, and squelched into the living room. Emma was lying on the sofa, reading, George was curled up on her feet, reminding Killian of a sleepy dog, although he snapped to attention the second he entered.

Emma raised her eyebrows at him over the top of her book, but refrained from commenting on his appearance. George, still tetchy after the news that he would be spending the evening alone was far less kind. “Oh look what the cat dragged in, Your Highness, it’s a drowned rat!”

“Ha, bloody, ha,” Killian replied dryly. There was some kind of joke there, about how his voice was the driest part of him, but it didn’t quite come to him. “We have to leave soon, Swan, I’m gonna shower and change, you ready?”

“Yeah,” she said then frowned down at herself. She sat up and held the book down at her side to allow Killian to get a better look at her outfit, a simple slouchy top and denim skirt. “Unless… is this ok? Regina’s kind of fancy.” She chewed on her lip.

Killian moved as if to go hug her, instinctively wanting to comfort her, but a deliberate cough from George accompanied by a pointed look at the slightly puddle that was forming at his feet stopped him. “It’s fine. Regina isn’t as scary as she seems - and besides, it’s too hot for fancy clothes.” he said with a smile.

George winced and shook his head, then reached out and patted Emma’s hand. “You look smoking hot, just like always,” he reassured her. She shook her head instantly, although a corner of her mouth twitched up at his declaration.

Killian didn’t hang around to see George’s smug, triumphant smirk.

He was ready in fifteen minutes flat, eager to escape for the night.

He got the uber alert that Leroy was nearly there just as he strolled back into the living room. “Time to go.”

George pouted. He wouldn’t have thought that it was possible for a dragon to pout, but there really was no other way to describe the look on his face. He opened his mouth - and the thunder started, rumbling across the sky like the sound of drums. George’s eyes flew wide open and he slithered behind Emma’s legs, trembling. Killian cocked his head, shocked by the thought that this overconfident sass monster might actually be scared of the storm. A flash of lightning sparked across the sky, filling the room with light and George disappeared into the bedroom.

Killian’s jaw dropped. Emma met his stunned gaze. Her brow had crumpled with concern and she chewed on her lip.

“Do you think we should stay here for him?” she asked, eyes darting to the wide open bedroom door and back to Killian. “I’ve never seen him this scared.”

“I’m not scared!” George’s voice called out from the bedroom, “just remembered that there’s something in here that I need.”

Killian smirked and Emma rolled her eyes, they both headed to the door. There was a trembling lump underneath the blankets. “Something that’s in the bed?” Killian asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I need a nap,” George replied.

“You just remembered that you need a nap?” The derision was hard to keep out of his voice and he earned himself a smack on the arm from Emma accompanied by a look that plainly warned him to “cut it out”. He playfully pretended that it had hurt a lot more than it had, delighting in the way Emma tried to restrain her laugh as she shook her head at his antics.

George poked his face out from under the blankets. “Yeah, I just remembered that I’m tired of watching your embarrassing attempts to flirt with Emma. I’m glad that I have the night off to recover. Talk about out of your league - Emma’s so far out of your league, she literally belongs in a whole other realm.”

“George!” Emma admonished, blushing, as Killian gaped at him.

Of course, what he said was true, but it hurt to hear - especially from the dragon who was squatting in his home.

Before he could recover enough to reply, Emma grabbed him by the arm “Anyway!” she said brightly, steering him towards the door and calling behind her, “enjoy your nap, George!”

On the drive Emma looked agitated, nervously tapping her foot and shifting restlessly. Killian watched concerned as she squirmed from slouching in her seat to attempting to cross her legs to turning her back towards him and leaning against the seat belt and back to slouching again. Finally, she awkwardly settled with her chin in her hand, staring out at the rain. For a minute at least, because then she cracked her head against the window as Leroy took a corner way too fast - barking out insults at pedestrians as he went.

Killian was fairly certain that the storm wasn’t bothering her, but perhaps she was worried for George. He hadn’t known her long, and already he could see how quickly she took on other people’s worries and how much she delighted in helping them. She was clearly agitated about something - perhaps it had been unfair to expect her to leave her friend at home in distress.

She was the one who all but pushed us out the door, he reminded himself.

It seemed unlikely that the dragon was the cause of her anxiety, but whatever it was, he hoped he could help to calm her. Carefully he reached out and placed his hand over hers. She jumped at the contact and her head snapped around to look at him.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Easy there,” he chuckled, “just checking everything’s ok?” It suddenly occurred to him - she’d been a little unsure about her outfit earlier, perhaps she was just feeling insecure about the night. “You’re not still worried about Regina are you? Honestly, I know that she’s a little - well, a lot - intimidating, but she’s a teddy bear deep down. Don’t tell her I said that. And she absolutely loved you. Anyone who puts me in my place deserves a medal as far as she’s concerned. You should have seen the way she smiled in approval at some of those witty insults you sent my way when we went out. I thought she might actually handover  Robin’s gold medal with ‘Best Insult Ever’ scratched onto it, and that’s his prized possession.”

“Oh it’s not that,” Emma said then looked down and began picking at invisible lint on her skirt, “not exactly. I … Well, Regina looks like someone from my realm. And that person, she, she fucking terrifies me.” Her statement was punctuated by a flash of lightning with a rumble of thunder hot on its heels. She jumped at the sound, looking embarrassed by her reaction at once.

“Fucking weather,” grumbled Leroy, not actually under his voice, as he swerved around a corner.

Killian reached out for her again and this time, Emma let him take her hand. He stroked it gently, and she stared intently at the way his thumb moved.

“I’m sorry to hear that, love. It must be hard to spend time with someone who has the same face as anyone who you don’t feel safe around, however much you know they’re a different person.” He grinned. “For what it’s worth though, Regina often scares me, she can be downright terrifying when you get on her bad side.”

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and he winked for good measure. “Well. Yeah. Regina seemed - well, nice isn’t the right word, but I liked her - so I feel horrible but she looks so much like the Evil Queen that it’s -”

Killian stopped stroking at the name “Evil Queen”, slightly stunned by this revelation. “Sorry, did you just say Evil Queen? Like once upon a time she forced Snow White to eat a poisoned apple and all that?”

“Exactly. Snow White’s my mother.”

Killian could feel his jaw drop at this revelation, Emma was literally straight out of a fairytale. Perhaps he should consider seeking out therapy - just in case he was really just going crazy in the back of an uber with an overly grumpy driver.

“But really the apple thing was the least of what she did - I’m more bothered by all the massacres.”

Just when Killian thought this couldn’t get any weirder. “Massacres?” he asked weakly.

“She slaughtered entire villages hunting for my mother when she realised that her curse hadn’t done the job. We don’t call people evil just over a cursed apple.”

“Well, what’s a little cursed apple between friends?” He hoped he didn’t sound as hysterical as he felt.

Emma frowned at him and shook her head, but chose to reply to the rhetorical question. “So… yeah. It’s hard not to feel a little bit strange about being around her, which hardly seems fair.”

“Would it make you feel better to know that apples are banned from her house?”

She laughed and it was good to see some of that tension fade away. “Really?”

“Her step son Roland’s allergic.”

She nodded to herself. “Why do you call her your Majesty?”

“Bad joke. Her family has money - her parents are important, her dad had some kind of peerage or title, probably both, before he passed away, and her mum's the Chief Commissioner of the Met.”

“The what?”

“The police in London.” He held back a laugh at Emma's look of confusion. “The good guys, heroes, whatever you want to call them. Regina and Robin live in Knightsbridge - the rich part of town - well, one of them. It's about as close to a castle as you can get in the middle of London. Unless of course you live in Buckingham Palace, but Regina's not actually the Queen.” He cringed internally at his thoughtless comment, closing his eyes to avoid seeing her reaction. “I’ll cut that out, so thoughtless, I -”

The car screeched to a halt outside a row of beautiful terraced houses, all with white columns framing the porches leading up to their front doors. Railings to the side of the doors hid the discreet stairs that once upon a time led down to where the help resided, but now was just another indicator that the people who lived here absolutely had more floor space than you. Old fashioned street lamps of the style most commonly found in Narnia these days lined the picturesque street and were glowing softly through the downpour. The road remained free of the garish supercars that blighted other areas of Knightsbridge in the summer months, instead showing far more tasteful displays of the privilege of the residents - Bentley, Mercedes and Rolls Royce badges adorning the cars in shades of black and grey. The houses faced the private garden only accessible to those who lived on the street, hoarding the precious green space in the centre of London and keeping it for themselves like the miserly dragons they were.

Killian would hate Regina and Robin for it if only they weren’t the best people he knew. It was hard to begrudge them the best of anything.

“We’re here,” growled Leroy, a man who clearly didn’t care for driver ratings, and was fast cementing himself in Killian’s mind as simply “Grumpy”.

Killian said, “cheers,” as he put up his umbrella and climbed out of the car. He was immediately grateful that he’d remembered to grab it at the last minute. They were but two yards from the door, but would surely be drenched regardless. He hurried around to open Emma’s door and shielded her from the rain as she struggled to climb from the car. “As graceful as your namesake, Swan,” he said, taking pity on her and helping her out.

They rushed to the porch, folded the umbrella up as quickly as possible and up the steps to the door. “Some might consider it treason to mock a princess,” she said as he rang the bell, “and you know what the penalty for that is.”

He grinned, glad to see that her anxiety had lessened. “Lucky for me that you’re a forgiving and benevolent royal, then eh?”

If she said anything further on the matter, it was lost as the door flung open and a small blur flew into his arms.

“Killian!” He felt as much as heard the muffled squeal of his godson who had buried his face into his stomach.

He shoved the umbrella into Emma's hands then lifted Roland up into his arms with an exaggerated groan. “Have you been eating rocks again, Roland? You know that’s not good for you.”

“No, Killian, I just really, really big now,” Roland answered seriously.

“Roland, what have I told you about ope - oh hi Killian, lovely to see you again, Emma.” Regina’s scolding of her stepson melted into a smile on seeing him wrapped up in Killian’s arms.

It was moments like this that always made it hard for Killian to take Regina’s icy demeanour too seriously. He looked to Emma to mutter something to that effect, but was surprised to see she was looking at him with a similar soft expression, albeit one tinged with sadness. The softness evaporated into awkwardness on seeing that she had his attention.

Robin came up behind them and smiled at everyone. “Come in, before the rain gets in.” He said, stepping back to let them past. Emma stepped inside and Killian followed, moving as if every step was taking all of his energy, grunting as he did so, delighting in Roland’s appreciative giggles. “We were just waiting on you to get here so this little monster -” Robin nodded to Roland, who snarled on cue “- could say goodnight.”

Roland put his hands on Killian’s shoulders and pushed back in his arms to look him in the eye. “I a big, scary monster Killian! Raaaaahhhh!”

Killian always forgot how cute Roland was until he was around him. He had to fight back the urge to smile indulgently and instead played along, pretending to drop him with shock, but catching him immediately. The boy shrieked and giggled. “Againagainagain!”

“Big, scary monster, I think your daddy just said it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“I get to say goodnight first!” Roland whined.

“Oh alright then, goodnight Roland,” Killian said and pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Goodnight!” With that Roland wriggled his way out of Killian’s arms and ran to Regina grabbing her hand and dragging her to the stairs. “I go bed now.”

“Make yourself at home while we get him off,” Robin said then rushed after the pair. The sound of roaring, giggling and thumping gradually faded as the trio went upstairs.

“So, that was Roland,” he said with a laugh, turning to Emma.

She appeared to be trying to vanish into the wall. He chuckled. “Everything alright, love?” he said. At times Emma reminded him so much of the little mermaid, only just discovering how to walk on land, a ball of awkwardness and charm.

“I'm getting the nice floor all wet,” she mumbled apologetically, “with the rain shield thing.” She held up the umbrella, which dripped pathetically around her feet.

Smiling, he took it from her and placed it in the umbrella stand by the door. “Unfortunate side effect of the Great British Summer. Even the best I've ever known comes with a large side order of rain. Admittedly it's usually less.. apocalyptic, but honestly, no harm done.” As he talked, he kicked off his shoes and placed them neatly by the door. Once she had followed suit, he guided her up the stairs to their grand living room.

“It's very… pale,” she said, scrutinising the white walls, beige rug on the wooden floor and delicate green sofas with an anxious edge to her voice. Everything was tasteful, clearly expensive and while the cosy throws on the sofas and Roland’s framed family portrait on the wall, marked this as a family room, it was impossibly spotless. In short, it looked like a recipe for disaster for someone who at times seemed incapable of controlling her limbs.

“Don't worry, they only serve clear beverages in this room, can't have red wine sullying the overpriced carpet,” he said with a wink. “Places around here come in a variety of shades of beige as standard. I believe it creates the illusion of space so that the wealthy can tell themselves they really do live in the palaces their obscene money should have been able to buy. At least this place looks like real people actually live here and not like Louis XVI’s interior decorator attempts minimalism, which I believe is the style du jour.”

“I'm sure you meant that as an insult to the rich, but it comes off kind of bitter. Not jealous are you?”

“Of the rich as a species? Nah. Of Robin and Regina? Absolutely, but then I don't deserve all that they have.” He tried to downplay it, but his self loathing seeped out in his words and he studied the carpet to avoid seeing Emma's reaction.

“You don't really believe that do you? You deserve a family.” His eyes leapt to hers in surprise, anyone else would've thought he meant the house, or the money, but Emma? She really understood him, and she knew what he meant at once. “Thing is, I'm pretty sure you've got one. There's a little boy upstairs who clearly adores you.”

He scratched at his ear awkwardly. “Aye, Roland's something special,” he said and would've added a self deprecating comment, but that look was back on Emma's face, the one that suggested the way he talked about Roland made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Have you known them long?”

“I met Robin at uni, we were in halls together -” he caught Emma's look of confusion “- we lived together in university accommodation - he was the first person I met, actually - so I've known him for, bloody hell, just over half my life now. We were always close, but when he lost his first wife, Marian, Roland's mother, it brought us closer together. He met Regina at a support group for people who have lost their partners and it wasn't long before they were married.”

“They both lost loved ones?”

“And found each other. Meanwhile I lost Milah and my hand and am in the process of destroying the world.” He could feel the bitterness in his words and didn't want to examine that further. Or think about how he found Emma, not when he didn't get to keep her, so he barreled on. “I didn't meet Regina until she was dating Robin, but as I understand it, she fell in love with a man who worked for her family and her mother had disapproved, which I think was equal parts snobbery and genuine concern that she was being taken advantage of by an older man. She had distanced herself from her family and her wealthy friends who didn't understand that Daniel was genuinely in love with her, so when he died of a sudden heart she was left alone. Meeting Robin has also helped her to reconcile with her mother. He’s from a far more respectable family, and Marian was a Lady, so he's got the appropriate connections.”

“Sounds a little cynical.”

He shrugged. “Cora may mean well, but she also cares a lot for appearances. She wants Regina to be happy - as long as it's with a suitable match.”

“You're on first name terms with Regina's mother?”

He flushed a little, really not wanting to explain that while he'd known Regina for just three years, his association with her mother went back much further, to when his bitter and angry younger self thought nothing of consequences in his quest to bring Gold to justice. If he had to seduce a high ranking police officer to get it, he would. (And if said police officer was a gorgeous woman, all the better for him.) Emma’s eyes narrowed at him and she cocked her head thoughtfully, seeming to read what he wasn’t telling her in his eyes.

“Hey, Regina says we can go down for food now, if you’re ready.” Robin leaned into the room to deliver his message, and Killian sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

“Sure, let’s go, Swan,” he said turning to his old friend and ushering Emma out of the living room and away from the difficult conversation.

***

The meal was a great one - Killian always loved Regina’s cooking, and today was no exception. She’d cooked her speciality, lasagne, with a side salad. They’d long since finished her homemade summer fruit pavlova ice cream, which she’d brushed off as “something I just threw together”, although her delighted grin made it clear that she appreciated the recognition of her culinary skills. Now they were sipping glasses of rum and talking about everything and nothing.

The dining room was lit by candlelight, both on the table and in the unused fireplace, the soft light of the lamps on the mantelpiece and the glow of the street lights shining through the window. Killian and Emma sat at one side of the dinner table, Regina and Robin in the other. Killian had pushed his chair back and was lounging in it, one foot rested up on the opposite knee. He was quiet, smiling at Emma as she threw her head back and laughed at Robin’s recounting of a story from their unidays. She seemed relaxed, content and what is more, he felt the same. It was getting harder and harder to remind himself that he had to let her go. The target Gold had placed on her back seemed somehow unreal compared to this happiness.

A loud crash of thunder rang out. There was a pause as they all looked at each other, startled by the noise. They were on the verge of collapsing into giggles at the sudden tension broke when there was a flash of lightning and Regina vanished.

In her place sat the Evil Queen.

Killian had never met the woman, but that much was clear. She had Regina’s face, but that’s where the similarity ended.

Her hair was piled on top of her head in a sweeping updo, except for a few artfully placed strands that draped along her forehead to frame her face. She wore a reptilian leather jacket, with large puffy shoulders and an oversized collar that was turned up. It was fastened just below her breasts, creating a plunging neckline that accented her cleavage and highlighted that she only wore a lacy push up bra underneath. The look was completed with an ostentatious pendant necklace with a large black diamond at the centre and multiple strands of black crystal beads lying along her collarbone and dripping below the pendant to point down to her considerable assets.

Regina wouldn’t be seen dead in something this over the top.

Killian’s eyes darted unthinkingly towards Emma, who had momentarily frozen in fear. Gone was the wide easy smile that overtook her whole face, and instead she radiated pure dread.

Regina’s lip curled. “You!” she growled at Emma. She twisted her right hand and produced a fireball.

The reaction was instantaneous - all three friends leapt to their feet, but Killian and Robin could only watch, powerless to help. Emma, however, immediately raised her hands before her and magic flowed from them. One hand created a shield around the men, the other pointed to the queen. It extinguished the fireball, but stoked Regina’s ire. She growled and raised her own hands. Emma had anticipated her. She used her brilliant white magic like a rope, twisting it around the hissing witch.

The Evil Queen twitched and twisted. She spat and snarled. But nothing could free her.

Killian was overcome with admiration for Emma. She looked so bold and powerful, easily restraining the villain. He looked back to the Evil Queen, and she was Regina once more.

Emma startled and her magical restraints and shield evaporated at once.

Regina looked around, pale and shaking. “What happened? I was in -” she swallowed hard - “I was in a dungeon.” She broke off into sobs and Robin wrapped his arms around his wife, who curled into his chest at once.

Killian stared before him, his eyes unseeing, thoughts racing. What if Regina had been stuck in that awful place? What if they had been stuck with the Evil Queen forever? What if it happened again, when Emma wasn’t around to help and Robin and Roland were -?

Bile rose in his throat at the thought of anything bad happening to the boy. He had never hated himself more. He knew that terrible things were happening, but so long as they happened to nameless, faceless strangers he could forget about it and carry on in a fantasy where Emma belonged with him. What was the world’s suffering compared to his own happiness? And now, he had to face the truth: his selfishness was causing innocent people pain and suffering, and he had to do all that he could to make it stop.

“Who are you and what did you do to my wife?” Robin’s words snapped him out of his self-flagellation. Regina still had her face buried into Robin’s chest and he had his arms wrapped around her protectively. He was glaring at Emma, his face cold and hard. “I invited you into my home and you -”

“I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t! It wasn’t me!” Emma cried helplessly, tears running down her face. Killian pulled her into his side with his prosthetic.

“This isn’t Emma’s fault,” he said evenly. “It’s mine.”

His friends both looked around to him, alarmed. Emma continued to mutter “I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t…” to herself. His jaw ticked and his eyes watered as he realised that it was time for him to come clean about everything that had he had done.

“I think we should sit down. I’m sorry, I’ve let everyone down.”

***

When everyone was settled, Emma much calmer at last, but still curled in on herself, her head buried in her hands. Regina and Robin were looking at him expectantly, their hands on the table in front of them grasped together so tightly that their knuckles were white.

“You know what losing Milah did to me - and who caused her death - I let you all think that I stopped pursuing Gold, but the truth is that I just switched tactics.” He stared at his hands, the real and the prosthetic, knowing that if he met his friends’ eyes he wouldn’t be able to continue. “My studies led me to believe that time travel might be a possibility -” Regina gasped - “so I have been working on a time machine with the intention of going back to save Milah and murder Gold.”

“Fuck,” Robin breathed.

Still Killian didn’t look at him. He needed to let them know everything. He wet his lips, and felt himself trembling all over.

“Gold has long loved messing with me. His latest play was to get the uni to withdraw my funding at the end of the academic year.”

“He can’t do that!” Robin yelled indignantly.

Were he in his right mind, Killian would’ve appreciated the show of support even in the midst of his terrible confession, but he was stuck on auto pilot, unburdening his soul, and he couldn’t be stopped.

“I knew that my time machine was unstable, but I was desperate.” He felt goosebumps spread across his skin, his body tingling and the trembling increased. He tried to shut down the pain and talk. “So I tried to use it and it - well, the simplest way that I can put it is that it’s caused a kind of parallel universe to interact with ours. Emma here is Princess Emma from another realm, my machine brought her here. I brought the dragon here. All the people disappearing, all the statues coming to life, all the monsters that we’re seeing. They’re all here because I couldn’t let go of Milah. Because I didn’t want her to be dead. I’ve ruined so many lives and I haven’t - I couldn’t - I -” a lump swelled in his throat, his anger rising - “I failed her. I failed you all.”

He stopped speaking, giving into the overwhelming need to cry. He heard the scraping of a chair and a minute later, he was pulled roughly into Robin’s arms. “I’m so sorry, Killian.”

He gulped in a breath and pushed back from him, staring at him through eyes blurred with tears. “What? I - what?!”

“I wish that I had been more supportive when you lost Milah. You had so much to cope with, losing her and adjusting to life with a disability all at once. I worry that we rushed you into feeling better, because we just wanted you to be ok. It’s only when I lost Marian that I worried that we pushed you too hard. I can see now that we did.” Killian gaped at his friend who shook his head sadly. “I never should’ve expected you to be happy so soon when you had gone through so much. I’m sorry.”

Killian felt numb with shock, tingling with surprise. How could Robin be so good as to blame himself for Killian’s mess?

“I’m a grown man. I should have known better.”

“Yes you should,” cut in Regina. “You’re both idiots but you are both responsible for your own dumb mistakes. I love you both but if you’re quite finished with all the manly bonding, we need to figure out how to deal with what’s happening now.”

Killian laughed, stunned by Regina’s matter of fact attitude to everything.

“Now, Emma -” Regina turned to her - “I mean, Your Highness.”

“Oh you don’t have to -” Emma demurred.

“Nonsense, you’re a princess, I’ll address you properly, my mother would be horrified if I did any less. This person from your realm who took my place?”

“The Evil Queen.”

“Yes, her. Is my family safe if she returns?”

Emma drew her breath in sharply, and looked at Regina thoughtfully, before shaking her head. “No.”

“Killian -” Regina turned to him - “can you guarantee that I won’t swap places with my evil counterpart again?”

Killian wished he could give her hope, but he knew Regina well enough to tell it to her straight. “We’re close to a solution, but, no, I can’t.”

She nodded sadly and took a deep breath. “In that case, I must leave, immediately.”

“Regina, at least stay to say goodbye to Roland!” Robin pleaded, rushing to her side and taking her hands in his.

“It’s because of Roland that I can’t. I can’t put him in danger, I love him - and you - too much for that.” Her eyes shone with tears and Robin nodded sadly. “I’ll be at the Ritz, I’ll send for some things tomorrow.” She looked to Killian. “Fix this so that I can come home.” She gave Robin a tender kiss and left the room, pulling her phone from her pocket and calling for a car.

Killian stood in shock, he had torn apart the lives of some of his dearest friends and they treated him with nothing but compassion. Compassion that he was sure he did not deserve.

“Do you want us to stay?” he asked Robin tentatively, scrutinising the man who stood staring at the door after his wife looking crestfallen.

“Huh?” Robin whirled around to look at him. “Oh, no. No. Go home and get some rest. Then wake up tomorrow and work your ass off to bring her back to me, you got that?”

“Aye aye, captain,” Killian said, saluting his friend. He quickly ordered an uber, then tugged Emma towards the door. “Come on, Emma, let’s get out of here.”

Before he could leave the room, Robin seized him and pulled him into another hug. As they parted, Robin pressed a business card into his hand. “When this is all over, you call him,” he said, nodding to the card. “We’ll pay. Don’t argue with me, you’re not ok, and we’re going to help you get better. And I have a feeling that you’re going to have to face more loss before all this is over.” Robin’s eyes flicked to Emma, before looking back at him with a sad smile. “He helped me to come to terms with losing Marian. We’ll talk soon, OK?”

Killian stared down at the card in his hands: Archibald Hopper, Psychotherapist. Specialist Bereavement Counselling. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such good friends in his life, but if they could forgive him, it didn’t matter whether he could forgive himself. Right now, he had to fix reality and save their world.

I hope you all like George - he’s my favourite :D

[swanqueenweek]

THEME VOTING & SQW DATES ANNOUNCEMENT

Event date voting has closed, and our 9th Bi-Annual Swan Queen Week will take place from July 9th - July 15th

Additionally, theme suggestions are officially closed, and theme voting has begun! Please use the link provided to vote; do not send your votes via ask/submission box/IM as those votes will not count.

Theme voting will be open from May 21st until May 31st. Below the cut is a list of the themes to choose from and important information about voting.

Voting is open to everyone, but please only vote once. Like the previous events, you can vote for your top three themes, but keep in mind that only one can win; you are voting for theme, not prompt. This means we will need to break the winning theme down into 7 smaller prompts. Once our theme is chosen, we  will open the ask and submission boxes for prompt suggestions, and any prompts fitting the chosen theme can be submitted.

Please note, you may not see your suggestion exactly as you sent it; there were a number of very similar suggestions or very specific suggestions that we combined to make the most simple and clean list possible. As always, the themes from the previous SQWs are up excluding the last one. There were also a few suggestions that were excluded as they they were too specific, were triggering or hateful or we were unsure about them. We will get better at responding to some of the suggestions that we weren’t sure about in the future. Please keep in mind that we are still learning, but we try our best to give you the best experience.

When voting, be sure to look at the options carefully as there are several prompts that can fit different themes, so if there is one prompt you really, really want, be strategic in your voting!

Suggested themes:

Bookworm; Emma and Regina in different book plots and genres, both established and new ideas. (e.g., Crime, Horror, Romance, etc.)

Butterfly effect; What if prompts where a minor change in circumstances cause a large change in outcome. (e.g., What if Emma didn’t up Henry up for adoption? What if Emma didn’t absorb the Dark Curse?, etc.)

Canon Divergence; prompts were the episodes/seasons has alternative endings. (e.g., Some people die and stay dead, It was a dream, Back to the beginning, And they lived happily ever after, etc.)

Cliches; prompts focusing on some of our favorite cliches. (e.g., Opposites attract, Time heals all wounds, etc.)

Couch Potato; Emma and Regina in different TV plots and genres, both established and new ideas. (e.g., procedurals, reality TV, sitcoms, Emmy awards, etc.)

Damsel in Distress; prompts were one lady helps the other one (e.g., Regina + flat tire, Emma + magic problems, etc.)

Day in a Year; prompts about a day in a year (e.g., Snow Day, Playing Hooky, etc.)     * I’m quite proud of my puns.

“Double Trouble”; prompts about our ladies dealing with two times the drama. (e.g., Clones, Split persons, SQ AU Version Meetup, etc.)

Emotions; prompts that focus on a different emotion. (e.g., Love, Hate, Fear, Lust, Acceptance, etc.)

Events; focusing on parties, balls, birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, traveling. (e.g., Graduations, Mom’s Day, Masquerade Ball, etc.)

Fairytales; prompts having to do with fairytales. (e.g., fairytale swap, FTL AU, fairytale tropes, new fairytale characters, Disney songs, etc.)

Fairytale Swap; Emma and Regina as the focal relationship of an established fairytale besides their own. (e.g., Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, the Swan Princess, etc.)

Family; prompts focusing on Emma and Regina and their family. (e.g., Adoption, Giving birth, Family trips, etc.)

Game Changers; prompts where something happens and alternates Emma’s and/or Regina’s plan. (e.g., death, pregnancy, natural disasters, coming of age, winning the lottery, etc.)

Goddesses; each day focuses on a different set of traits/virtues     associated with a specific goddess. (e.g., Isis - marriage and wisdom,     Aphrodite - love and beauty, Eris - chaos, etc.)

Life in Storybrooke; prompts focusing on Regina and Emma simply living in Storybrooke, both with or without magic. (e.g., Secretly dating, Henry going to college, events like 4th of July or Miners day, etc.)

Magical Mishaps; prompts focusing on what can go wrong when our ladies try to do a little magic. (e.g., spells gone wrong, True serums, Accidental time travel, etc.)

Matchmaker; prompts focusing on one or more characters playing matchmaker with Emma and/or Regina. (e.g., Cora ships it, Ruby sets them up with other people, Snow pushes them together, Henry parent traps them, etc.)

Moviephile; Emma and Regina in different movie plots and genres, both established and new ideas. (e.g., Disney, Harry Potter, rom-com, horror, etc.)

Myths and Legends; prompts focusing on aspects or stories of mythology or famous legends. (e.g., Greek Mythology, Egyptian Mythology, Viking Mythology, etc.)

No Magic; prompts where Emma and Regina are ordinary people living ordinary lives or where they lose/give up their magic. (e.g., different professions, meet cute, giving up magic to protect someone, etc.)

Over the Rainbow: Prompts where colours have meanings. (e.g.; Red - Passion, Blue - Trust, Gold - success, etc. )

Reincarnation; prompts where a person’s essence continues to live after their body dies. (e.g., past life associations, karmic ties, soul mates, etc.)

Role reversal; prompts focusing on Emma and Regina swapping roles somehow, AU or not. (e.g., sheriff/mayor, boss/employee, saviour/evil queen, etc.).

Romance + Firsts; Prompts about important milestones between Regina and Emma. (e.g., First date, First kiss, First dance as a married couple, First fight, etc.)

Space: The Final Frontier; Emma and Regina and the vast empty space. (e.g., aliens landing on earth, discovering extraterrestrial life, Lesbians in NASA, etc.)

Superheroes; prompts focusing on superheroes and villains. (e.g.,     buying Henry comic books, super powers, etc.)

Supernatural; prompts (e.g., mystical creatures, parallel universes, reincarnation, weather control, etc.)

#TeamMOM; prompts focusing on Emma and Regina being a mom (e.g., MILF, Mommy!Regina or Mommy!Emma, Mommy Kink, etc.)

The Queen and her Knight; prompts focusing on their roles as Queen and Knight. (e.g., Emma meeting the Evil Queen, Emma as Regina’s knight, etc.)

Time-turner; prompts focusing on Emma and/or Regina as a child/teen/young adult. (e.g., Baby!SQ, Childhood friends, High School Rivals, etc.)

Trouble-Trouble:  prompts focusing on Emma and/or Regina and troublesome situations (e.g., Getting Caught, Relationship troubles, Henry in trouble, etc.)

Wicked Situations; prompts focusing on Zelena + Swan Queen. (e.g., Double dates, Zelena makes Regina jealous, Zelena helps, etc.)     * Proposed as a farewell to the wonderful Zelena Mills.  

You can vote for your favourite three themes here. If you have any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to let us know.

[gray-autumn-sky]

Meant to Be Yours, Chapter 20

Robin breaks into Storybrooke’s library to prove a point to Regina, and inadvertently helps her to realize a possible way to break the curse; meanwhile, Regina hears back from Emma about possibly meeting Henry.

For the anon who requested the quote, “It was worth a shot” for Regal Believer; and for the lovely @trina-deckers who requested “OQ and Reading” from my prompt list. I hope it’s okay that I used the prompt for this verse!

Previous chapters can be found HERE.

Regina takes a breath as she reaches for the knob of Henry’s door—and when she opens it, she finds him tucked into bed wearing a pair a Captain America pajamas with The Goblet of Fire on his lap. His hair is still a little damp from his shower and she can smell the soap that he likes to use as she nears—and heart breaks knowing that she’s about to disappoint him. He smiles at her as he opens the book to the bookmarked page, and edges over on the bed to make room for her—and she smiles back regretfully.

“Hey,” she begins as she slides into the bed beside him and stretches her arm around his little shoulders. “Before we start reading, there’s… something I want to talk to you about.” Henry nods and tilts his head up to look at her, still completely unassuming. “I, um… I heard back from your birthmother,” she begins in a tentative voice, waiting as his eyes widen and he swallows hard.

“Did you… talk to her?”

“No,” she says quickly. “We missed each other. She returned my call and left me a voicemail.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, his brow creasing. “What did she say?”

“Well,” Regina begins, taking a breath. “When I called her, I left her a message, too, and I told her who I was and why I was calling… and I told her a little bit about you.”

“What did you tell her?”

A small smile tugs onto her lips. “I said that I’d recently adopted you and you were… bright and sweet and thoughtful, and I that loved you more than I knew it was possible to love another person.”

“That was nice of you to say.”

“It’s all true,” she says, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his hair. “And I told her that you’d been struggling with… having spent so much time in the foster system, and that you wanted to meet her, that we thought it might bring you some closure and help you to… deal with things.”

“Oh…” Henry murmurs as he looks away, focusing on the book in his lap. “She doesn’t want to meet me.” Regina’s eyes sink closed and she takes a long breath, hating to have to tell him this, hating that this isn’t something she can fix and hating that she’s disappointed for reasons other than how much this will hurt him. “I should have known.”

“She didn’t say no… well… not exactly,” she says, slowly opening her eyes. “She said she wasn’t sure.”

“That means no,” Henry tells her. “That’s always what adults say when they want to say no, but don’t feel like they can.”

“I’m sorry…” Henry nods, still focusing his attention on the book; and she watches as his index finger traces over the embossed title. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? I…”

“I’m sure,” he says, trying his best to sound like he wasn’t bothered, like he wasn’t upset he wasn’t upset, and like he wasn’t on the verge of tears. “It… doesn’t matter.”

Regina takes a breath, swallowing the hard lump that’s formed at the back of her throat as she presses her eyes closed—and she finds herself wondering how many times Henry has told himself that in that past—how many times he went to bed with teary eyes and a bruised heart, how many times he tried to convince himself that he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter.

Her arms tighten around him and she starts to rock him—not knowing what to say, but feeling guilty for having ever suggested that they reach out to his birthmother. She should have known this wouldn’t end well—no matter how it ended. On a practical note, there was a fair chance that Emma Swan would not want to meet the baby she gave up for adoption eight years before; it’d likely been a difficult choice to make and she’d likely spent years rebuilding her life, years moving on. There’d been a reason she’d asked for a closed adoption. On a personal note, she hated that she’d ever suggested it and she wondered if her motives had been about Henry at all, or if subconsciously she’d only suggested it because bringing Emma Swan to town would do what she couldn’t—it’d start to break her curse. But the thing she felt most guilty about had nothing to do with the reason she’d suggested contacting Emma Swan and it had nothing—she felt guilty because when Emma had waivered, when she said she wasn’t sure, Regina had been relieved.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she breathes out as she presses another kiss to his hair. “I really am.”

“It’s okay,” he says, sniffling a little as he tilts his chin up. “It was worth a shot.”

“Oh, Henry…”

“Mom,” he asks, looking back to the book. “Do you think we could… skip reading tonight?”

“Skip Harry Potter?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m just… really tired. I don’t think I can stay awake long enough to even get through a chapter, and… and I don’t want to miss anything.”

Her chest clenches and she sighs—but she finds herself nodding. “Okay,” she murmurs. “No reading tonight.” Henry hands her the book, offering a shaky little sigh as she sets it onto his nightstand. “Do you want me to lay with you for a little while? I could… rub your back and…”

“No,” he cuts in. “That’s okay. Like I said, I’m just… really tired.”

“You could come into my room and we could cuddle up under…”

“I’m comfortable here,” he tells her, purposely avoiding her eyes as he fakes a yawn in an effort to hide his tears. “I just… want to turn off the light and go to bed.”

“Okay,” she says a bit reluctantly. “But if you… change your mind…”

“I won’t.”

“Okay,” she says again, slowly getting out of the bed and adjusting the comforter around his shoulders. “I love you, Henry,” she murmurs as she leans in to presses a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t,” he replies, offering a meek smile. “I love you, too.” Taking a breath, she pulls herself away from him—wanting nothing more than to stand there, hovering near him for the rest of the night, just in case he might need her—and she flicks on the nightlight. “Thanks, Mom…”

“Goodnight, Henry.”

“G’night,” he tells her as he rolls onto his side, and as she pulls the door closed, she hears a muffled little cry escape him.

She lingers there in his doorway for awhile, feeling helpless and wishing there were something she could do and wish she hadn’t had to tell him. Finally, his breathing steadies—a sign that he’s finally fallen asleep—and he seems so far away from her. Reluctantly, she turns away and heads to her own room, quickly undressing and deciding to forgo a shower. She pulls on a pair of pajamas and lays there in dark, thoughts of Henry and Emma Swan swirling through her head…

She can’t sleep, so she gets out of bed and walks toward Henry’s room—and her brow creases when she feels a burst of cool air at her feet, coming from beneath the door. Her heart skips a beat as she pushes opened the door and her stomach drops when she sees the curtains billowing in front of the opened window.

She goes to it, looking out and seeing only darkness. For a second, she thinks it’s all a misunderstanding—he opened the window to get some air—but when she turns toward the bed, the covers are bunched at its end and there’s still a dent in his pillow. Swallowing hard, she turns frantically around the room—and she can’t help but notice that his backpack isn’t sitting on his desk chair. He’s gone. Her knees are weak as she reaches for the phone, dialing a familiar number—and when Graham answers, she pleas for help, begging him to find her son.

The night slowly turns to day, and there’s no sign of Henry anywhere. Graham tells her to stay at home—stay at home and wait in case he calls—and she does, in spite of how helpless it makes her feel.

Then, just as the sun is setting, she sees the red and blue flashing lights of Graham’s squad car and she scrambles desperately to her feet. Her heart flutters and her stomach flops—an odd mix of worry and relief overcoming her as she throws open the door. Stepping out onto the porch, she smiles in spite of herself as the cold and bitter air bites at her the tear tracks on her cheeks—and she watches as Graham leads Henry to her, and a woman she can’t quite place lingers at the car.

“Oh, Henry,” she breathes out, stooping down in front of him as her hands squeeze his arms. “I was so worried.” For a moment, he doesn’t reply—he only blinks and stares, his eyes hard and distant. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” she says, pulling him to her and in attempt to hug him—but he remains stiff and pulls away. “Why did you run away?”

“You know why,” he says, his voice piquing with hurt. “You lied to me.” Swallowing hard, she looks at him—and at first, she doesn’t understand; and then, from his backpack he pulls the leather bound storybook that she’s kept hidden in her desk. “You lied to everyone.”

“Please, Henry, just… let me… explain. I can…”

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

“But, Henry…”

“Why should I listen to you after everything you’ve done? After all the lies you told…”

“Because I love you.’

He shakes his head as the faceless woman’s hand falls onto her son’s shoulder and gives it a tight squeeze. “You don’t know how to love.” Swallowing hard, she lets out a shaky breath as Henry takes a step back. “That was just another one of yours lies.”

“No,” she says, her voice desperate as she tries to reach for him. “Henry, no.”

Again, he steps back and this time, Graham’s arm wraps protectively around his shoulder—and she can’t help but feel betrayed. “Why are you doing this?” She asks, blinking up at Graham. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing he hadn’t already figured out. He’s a smart boy. He can read between the lines.”

Her eyes widen and her heart beat slows, and tears well in her eyes. “Henry, you have to believe…”

“No, I don’t,” he says. “I don’t have to listen to anything you say. You’re not my real mom.”

“Henry…” she murmurs as her breath catches her in chest. “How can you…” And then she watches as Henry looks back over his shoulder to the woman waiting by Graham’s car—Emma Swan.

Regina sits up with a start, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as tears stream down he cheeks—and then, she feels a sinking feeling at her core. Throwing her feet over the edge of her bed, she rushes toward Henry’s room and when she reaches the door, she hesitates. She’s well aware that it was just a dream, well aware that on the other side of the door, Henry is tucked into his bed, sleeping just where she left him—yet, she finds herself holding her breath as a feeling of dread washes over her as she reaches for the door knob.

Pushing it open, a soft smile stretches onto her lips as she sees him in his bed—but the feeling of dread stays with her.

Stepping lightly, she moves toward him and lowers herself to the edge of the bed, adjusting the blankets around him and brushing his hair from his forehead—and she can’t help but think of how peaceful he looks, how sweet and unburdened. Leaning in, she presses a light kiss to his cheek and gets up from the bed, not wanting to disturb him.

She pads back down the hall and gets back into bed—but every time she closes her eyes, she sees Henry’s hardened eyes and hears his sharp words, and her stomach starts to churn. Rolling onto her side, she stares at the open space beside her—and she remembers that the last time she couldn’t sleep. Robin had been there and he’d pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest as he stroked his hand soothingly over her back. His voice had been so methodical—rhythmic and soothing—and the steady beat of his heart had helped to calm her.

And then, she remembers his suggestion—a suggestion she’d balked at and insisted was something she could never do. At the time, she said that it’d be unfair, it wasn’t right to wake him up simply because she couldn’t sleep; but he’d been adamant—something she reminded herself of as she reached for the phone.

_____

A grin twists onto her lips as she sees him nearing—and when he stops her waiting at the front entrance of the diner, his stroll turns to a jog. Shaking her head, she chuckles to herself as his eyes brighten and his smile broadens. And when he reaches her, he presses a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, as he his nose rubs against hers and his hand finds the small of her back.

“Good morning,” he returns as he reaches around her to open the door, stealing a second kiss as she turns to enter the diner. “You know, I just realized we both just left the elementary school. We could have came here together.”

“No,” she says, as Granny motions to an open booth. “We couldn’t have.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you insist on walking everywhere and its nine degrees.”

“I’d have kept you warm…”

Her eyes roll as she hands him a menu—and a little grin tugs onto her lips. “I love you, but you don’t keep me warm in the same way that my Mercedes does.”

“I… could be offended,’ he says, opening the menu, “But I can’t feel my fingers or my thighs,” he glances up at her, “So, you may have a point.” He folds the menu shut, grabbing the attention of Ruby. “And I need some coffee.”

Ruby comes to their table and takes their order—and the few minutes later, she returns with two, steaming cups of coffee. Regina watches as Robin holds the cup, and breathes in the warm steam as his eyes close, enjoying the scent and the warmth.

“I’m glad we decided to do this,” she says, as she sips her own coffee. “We should do breakfast more often.”

“We should,” he agrees, his eyes opening and a grin stretch over his lips. “Why don’t we?”

“Something about jobs and getting kids off to school.”

“Ah, right,” he nods, bending his head to sip his coffee. “Obligations.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re doing this today.”

Robin nods. “After last night, I… I needed to know that you were okay.”

“I’m… fine.”

“You always are,” he murmurs, reaching out and sliding his hand over hers, giving her fingers a tight squeeze. “And how was Henry this morning?”

“His usual self,” she says with a little nod. “He woke up early and tried to convince me to read him the chapter of Goblet of Fire that we didn’t read last night.”

“And did you?”

She sighs, “Of course I did.”

“You’re a good mom, Regina. Henry’s luck to have you.” For a moment, she looks up doubtfully—she loves her son and she tries to do what’s best for him, and on most days, she feels like she does okay, but she doubts that he’s lucky to have her—not when the stability she’s offered him was built on such shaky ground. “You don’t believe me,” Robin says, his head tipping to the side. “You really don’t believe that.”

“I think… he deserves better than what I can give him. I’ve always thought that.” Her eyes fall away from his and she focuses down on her coffee. “He doesn’t know that his mother is a tyrannical murder who…”

“Who was an absolute monarch,” he cuts in, lowering his voice. “Regina, you weren’t very different from other rulers.”

Her eyebrow arches skeptically. “And how would you know? You lived in my kingdom, you don’t have much to compare it to. Besides… you know as well as anyone what I was known for.”

“I do,” he nods. “I also know that there was always enough grain, royal taxes never went up and as long as people stayed out of your way, life wasn’t half bad,” a little grin tugs onto his lips, “My biggest gripe was the lack of indoor plumbing… not that I knew that at the time.”

“Plumbing…”

“What can I say, I enjoy my showers and…” a chuckle rises into his voice. “And I lived with nine other men and a toddler. Things going a little… smelly.”

“Still, there’s only one thing anyone remembers. And… that’s all anyone will tell Henry.”

Robin takes a breath and leans back into the booth, and she watches as his eyes narrow. “Well, that’s just not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Do you really think I’m going to just let him believe the worst about you?” He grins. “Not that I’m going to have to convince him of anything. He thinks the world of you, Regina. Nothing can change that—nor should it.”

She nods—but she’s not quite sure that she believes him, not quite sure that anything will soften the blow of her past. Even if Henry can forgive her past sins, if she doesn’t break the curse, he’ll have a front row seat to the quiet suffering she’s caused. He’ll watch people he grows to care about living in a fog—never growing older, never seeing their dreams realized and living the same struggles that he’ll come to know will never ease. And even if he doesn’t immediately hold her responsible, unlike his peers, he’ll grow up and he’ll grow to resent her.

“And I can prove it to you,” Robin says, a self-assured smile stretching over his lips as Ruby brings them their food.

_____

Somehow over breakfast, he convinces her to take the morning off—insisting he has something he needs to show her, something she’ll want to see and a point he needs to prove. He won’t say anymore than that, and he shifts the conversation away from her sordid past and away from the curse, away from Emma Swan and last night’s nightmare, and to topics she finds easier to think about. He tells her how Roland suddenly wants a pet chameleon—which he still calls a cotillion—and they talk about Henry’s on-going struggle with fractions. They discuss Roland’s sudden enjoyment of hollandaise sauce—something he whole-heartedly believes is cheese thanks to Henry—and how he now enjoys asparagus and she tells him about the bow-tie pasta salad that Henry wanted them to have that night, musing about whether or not Roland will pick out the black olives or the bits of green pepper. And for a little while, she is able to forget what was looming.

By the time the bill is paid, it’s all settled and they stroll hand-in-hand down Main Street, toward a destination she doesn’t know. She makes a quip about how her secretary was likely having an enjoyable day in her absence and Robin playfully chided her about trying to be nicer; and then suddenly, they stop.

“We’re here.”

“Here,” she says, looking up at the boarded up library. “You brought me to… an abandoned building. How… charming.”

“It’s not abandoned.”

“Yes, it is,” she says flatly. “I signed paperwork to close it.” His eyes narrow and her shoulder square a bit defensively. “What? It was a budget cut. It was…”

“I realize that it’s closed; but abandoned isn’t the same thing. This building isn’t empty. In fact, it’s quite the contrary.”

Bristling, she shifts her weight, looking up at the fading sign and the plywood that covers the windows. “Semantics aside, what are we doing here?”

“Proving a point.” Her eyes narrow and he chuckles softly, pulling off his glove and fishing for something in his pocket. “You’ll see. Now, keep a look out, okay?” She blinks, her eyes widening as Robin approaches the door and her breath catches as she hears him fumbling with the lock. Robin looks back at her, a glint of laughter in his eyes. “Don’t look so surprised. You know I have a penchant for breaking and entering.” She sighs, rolling her eyes and before she can respond, the door pushes open. “After you, M’lady.”

Regina can’t help but grin as she steps inside and Robin closes the door behind them—and then darkness surrounds them.  She squints her eyes and turns—assuming in his direction—and just as she’s about to ask how they’re supposed to find their way—the electricity was cut off years before—he flicks on a flashlight, illuminating the space between them.

“It’s not much, but it’ll have to do,” he tells her as his hand finds hers. “Come on.”

Her brow creases as she looks at the darkness around them, following his lead and trying to remember what the interior of this building looks like. She can see the little spot of light in front of him, shining onto the olive green shelves and dusty books. “You… seem to really know your way around here.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been here.”

“You’ve broken into the library before?”

“Frequently,” he says, his voice distracted as he pulls her around a corner. “The bookstore here in Storybrooke doesn’t have a very diverse selection.” She hears a chuckle rise into his voice that’s meant to mask annoyance—a tone she knows well, and a tone she finds endearing as it’s usually associated with his son. “I just never understood how a bookseller could justify selling Old Man and the Sea and the Nick Adams Stories, but not any of Hemingway’s other novels or stories—not even The Sun Also Rises! So…I had to take measures into my own hands.”

“So you stole the books?”

“Borrowed,” he tells her, giving her hand a little squeeze. “I always return them.”

“Ah,” she nods. “What… other books have you borrowed?”

“I like the short stories—“Hills Like White Elephants” is my favorite—and, of course, The Sun Also Rises, but two others I always enjoy are To Have and Have Not and For Whom the Bell Tolls. They’re always worth a read, and…”

“You’re quite a Hemingway fan,” she says, her voice short as she cuts in. “I suppose it could be worse. You could be a smoker.”

He stops—and a grin twists onto her lips as he turns and the light shines between them. “I also have discovered an interest in biographies.”

“Biographies.”

“Yes—biographies of the lives of people far more interesting than I.”

“More interesting than you,” she says, her eyebrow arching. “You’re Robin Hood. Your story is one of the most legendary stories ever told.”

“Perhaps,” he says, turning back around and tugging her into one of the aisles. “But we aren’t always the best judges of our own stories.”

“Way to make your point,” she sighs as he again halts, shining the light on a row of books. She watches as his eyes narrow and he crouches down, examining another shelf and her lip catches between her teeth. “I can help if you tell me what you’re looking…”

“Got it!”

She watches as he pulls a thick maroon book from the shelf and blows the dust from the top, and she watches as it wafts through the air. “You… brought me here to show me an old beat-up copy of The Kings and Queens of England?”

“Among others,” he says, stooping down and pulling another book from the shelf.

“Vlad the Impaler: A Bloodthirsty Prince,” she says with a sigh, taking the second book from him and letting her eyes slowly drift up to his. “Should I… be insulted that my boyfriend is comparing me to a blood-sucking vampire?

“No, you shouldn’t be.”

“Then… what should I be?”

“Open minded.”

“I don’t see…”

Robin laughs as he takes her hand, tugging her back around the corner. “There’s more…”

“A biography of Ivan the Terrible or maybe…” Robin shoots her a look and she sighs, her voice trailing off as they round another corner, he quickly snags a paperback from the shelf and hands it to her, “Or maybe The Golden Compass,” she murmurs, looking down at the cover’s almost-smiling polar bear. “I’m… even more confused now.”

Robin only smiles in return, once more reaching for her hand as he tugs her out of the aisle. In the dark, she can’t see where he’s leading her—but she was curious. Then finally, his steps slows and he tugs her down onto the braided carpet, and when he shines the light down onto his lap, she can see that he picked up a few books along the way. A little grin tugs up onto her lips as she looks around, seeing that they’re nuzzled into a little corner between shelves with their backs against a brick wall.

“So where to start?” He asks, looking over at her as his arm stretches around her shoulders—and instinctively, she cuddles in, pressing her hand to his chest as her head rests on his shoulder. “The Tudors? Catherine of Aquitaine? Mrs. Coulter or maybe Countess Elizabeth Bathory?”

Her eyebrow arches, “No Vlad the Impaler?”

He laughs a little, “One of my favorites.”

“Crazed bloodsucking ruler who liked to impale people on spears and watch them die is a favorite?”

“Well, not if you put it like that,” he scoffs, offering her quick wink as he plucks the book from his lap and fans the pages. “Sure, he was known for his cruelty, but a lot of it’s mostly lore—especially the bits about him being a vampire.” He looks over at her, offering a soft grin as he reaches over and tucks her head behind her ears. “But…” his voice slows as he settles on a page, “This poem, Tiganiada, portrays him as a hero of his people, slaying those who posed a threat to his people and…”

Her eyes fall to the poem. “But I was the threat.”

“Not to everyone…”

Robin nods and flips to another page, “In this poem, The Third Letter, the poet talks about how his people only saw the good he did after he was gone, and they missed him and wished he’d come back to them to protect them even though they spent most of his reign wishing someone else would take over.” He looks down at her and grins, and she feels a soft fluttering in her chest as a slight smile draws onto her lips. “But the ones I keep going back to are the Tudors—not as much lore, but just as compelling a story…”

“If you compare me to the crazed womanizer, Henry the VIII, I swear…”

“How about a different Tudor, then?” He chuckles as he opens the book and scans the table of contents—and she watches as his finger falls between Mary and Elizabeth. “People either loved or hated them…”

“Didn’t they call her Bloody Mary?”

“Yes,” Robin says as her eyes cast up to meet his. “But she had principles and she stuck to them, even when people disagreed and didn’t understand, and the odds were stacked against her.”

For a moment, her eyes fall to the page with the name Mary Tudor written in black calligraphy and a sketch of the Queen; and she can’t help remember the earliest years of her reign, before the darkness had completely overtaken her and her obsessions began. She remembers how advisors quit, not wanting to answer to a queen they found inferior, and how she’d lashed out and fired those who remained when she realized the debt her late husband had accrued.

“Then,” he begins as he flips a few pages. “There was Elizabeth—a beacon of stability.”

“That,” she begins. “Is not me.”

“No?” He asks, his voice ready to refute her. “You don’t think so?” She shakes her head as her eyes fall to the page. “Because after the first few years, I remember prosperous one followed. Like I said earlier, there weren’t famines or drought, the taxes weren’t very high and there was work in the pastures and in markets and the mills…”

“But after those first few years,” she says, her eyes casting up. “That’s when I really began to lose control. I was fixated on Snow White and I… I lost sight of why I’d wanted power in the first place…”

“Why did you want power?” He asks, closing the book. “Because that wasn’t always the case—you once wanted happiness over power.”

When she’d first started seeing Archie in those early years of the curse it was, in part, because the memories and the nightmares were becoming too much to bear on her own; of course, she couldn’t be completely honest with him, she told him enough that he could help her. She told him about the haze she seemed to live in, the way she’d permeated on certain things until they became obsessions—and she’d been taken aback when he’d nodded and told her it was because she wasn’t sleeping. In those years of her reign, she rarely slept—she’d go day after day, growing increasingly manic and crazed, until she finally lashed out and then crashed; and when she awoke, she couldn’t allow herself to feel refreshed or invigorated, the guilt always crept in and she knew that it was just the beginning of the cycle she was caught in.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs—because she truly does know how it happened. She only knows that fighting against it simply became too exhausting to continue.

Robin presses a kiss to her temple as he opens a book on Eleanor of Aquitaine and begins to tell her the story—he draws a parallel between their tenacity and resilience; and though Regina rolls her eyes at the mention of Eleanor’s Court of Love where she listened to others’ problems in love and offered them her advice, Robin points out how they looked to her to fix them; and as when she insists that’s nothing like her rule, he interjects and insists it is. He tells her about how her subjects never feared outside threats, knowing that she’d take care of the problem—she wouldn’t let her kingdom fall—and when she tries to tell him that it’s hardly the same, he agrees—Eleanor of Aquitaine was known and respected for frivolous advice; she protected their homes and their livelihoods, and even she finds it difficult to disagree.

“What about this one?” she asks, dragging her finger down the spine of a coral colored book that tells the story of Countess Elizabeth Bathory. “What’s her story?”

“Ahh, she’s quite an interesting one,” he muses as a chuckle rises into his voice, “A formidable woman and a serial killer—one of the most prolific. I think she still holds a some sort of record.”

“For this one I see the connection.”

“Well, there’s more to it than that,” Robin tells her as he opens the book, “She was notorious for her brutality…”

“Again, I see the connection.”

“She didn’t act alone though,” he says, as he flipped to the epilogue—something that was filled with speculation and assumptions. “She may even have been framed, maybe she took the wrong advice or thought she was serving a higher power…”

She looks away, focusing on the way his fingers hold open the book. “Well, that’s where our stories differ, I suppose.”

“Maybe,” Robin says, reaching out and tipping up her chin. “But you didn’t act alone—not really. I know you hate to think of it this way and you place the whole burden on your own shoulders, but there were others who created the Evil Queen and there were others that led you to casting the curse and there were others who influenced your decisions. It wasn’t all you. You’re not innocent—not by a long shot—but you’re also not the only one who’s guilty.”

“You don’t know the whole…”

“I’ve read your story, too, Regina. I do know.”

She sighs a little and looks up at him. “Why did you bring me here?”

“To prove a point—to prove to you that your time as Queen wasn’t as terrible as you think it was and it wasn’t that uncommon. All rulers have their baggage—tough choices they had to make, outside influences that couldn’t be avoided, terrible things they did to protect or balance power—but mixed in with all of those things are good things. They might not be obvious or the story that gets told—but they’re there. You just have to look for them.” A smile tugs onto his lips. “Henry’s a smart boy. He’s a reader and he knows there’s more to most stories than there appears to be on a first glance—why else would he read the same books and comics over and over again?”

Regina can’t help but smile at the mention of Henry and Robin’s words conjure an image she often finds on lazy Sunday mornings, an image of Henry curled up in the bay window working his way through an ever-growing stack of comic books. “For the sake of argument,” she begins, turning her eyes up to meet his. “Say I tell him who I am—who all of us are—and he believes and he forgives me, and he doesn’t see me as the Evil Queen. If I can’t break the curse then… he’s going to watch people he knows and loves suffer, he’s going to see what I’ve done to them and… what if…” Her voice falters as she takes in a breath, looking back at the books in his lap. “I have to break it; otherwise, nothing else matters.”

For a moment, he doesn’t reply—and she assumes it’s because he doesn’t know what to say; after all, there isn’t anything to say. “You know, there is another option—an option that would let you keep all of your secrets, an option that would let you forget all about the curse…”

“I know,” she says in a meek voice.

“Have you considered it? Have you considered leaving Storybrooke?” Momentarily, she hesitates, not wanting to admit that she’s thought of it more and more, every time she meets a dead end. “Because I know I have.”

“You have?”

He nods. “I’ve thought a lot about what it would be like to… pack up and move to Boston or New York or… anywhere. We could start a new life together, just the four of us and… and none this would matter.”

A shaky breath escapes her as she lifts her head to look at him. “You’d… just… leave your whole life?”

“Until recently, I didn’t have a life.”

A smile tugs up at the corner of her mouth. “I’ve thought about it, too.”

“Just know that it’s an option, okay?”

She nods and rests her head back against his chest and when his arm tightens around her, the flashlight shifts, illuminating the bottom shelf next to where they’re sitting and it shines upon a familiar story. Picking up her head, she looks at it—and suddenly her chest begins to swell with hope. Leaning over she pulls the book from the shelf and blows the dust off the top—Snow White and the Seven Dwarves is printed in gold leafing on the front and below the title is a picture of Prince Charming leaning in to kiss his true love.

“I… I think I know how to break the curse,” she murmurs as her fingers trace over image on the front of the book as her heart beat quickens. “Robin, I think I know how to break the curse!” She turns herself toward him, looking up at him as excited tears well in her eyes and she watches as a smile draws onto his lips as his eyes fall to the book in her lap. She laughs a little and wonders if it could really be this simple—and she reaches for him, her hands sliding over his stubbly cheeks, and though she can tell he’s not quite sure what’s spurred this epiphany, he’s enjoying it. She tugs him toward her, her lips seeking his as his hands find her hips, pulling her onto his lap as she kisses him—giggling intermittently against his lips.  

They easily lose track of the afternoon—trading kisses and thumbing through the dusty copy of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves as Robin teases about the library’s obvious lack of proper organization that a book like Snow White could be found in the same section as a book on Countess Bathory. For the first time in months her shoulders feel relaxed and she feels like the cloud that’s been looming above her is beginning to lift.

“I regret to inform you,” Robin says as his fingers stroke through her hair. “It’s time to go.”

“It can’t be…”

“It’s nearly two-thirty, and I have to tutor today and…”

A smile curls onto her lips as she stretches out her arms and closes the book in lap. “That’s perfect. I… need to have a little chat with Mary Margaret Blanchard.”

She laughs a little as his eyebrow arches. “A chat, hmm?”

“Yes,” she nods, pulling herself off him and holding the book to her chest. “As much as I hate to admit it, I need Mary Margaret to break the curse, and…” she grins as she feels a little chill of excitement run up her spine, “I know exactly what I need her to do.”

“Suppose she’s not interested,” he says as he gets to his feet and offers her his hand. “What then?”

“Trust me,” Regina says in a confident voice as her fingers curl around his hand. “She’ll be interested.”

Robin nods and pulls her up, shining the flashlight out in front of them as they make their way toward the front of the library—and she can’t help but laugh as his steps slow and he plucks a copy of The Basil and Josephine Stories from a shelf and tucks the book beneath his arm, then continues toward the door without saying a word.

“Wait,” she says, pressing her hand to his arm as he pulls open the door and a little ray of light streams in. “You never told me why you picked up The Golden Compass.”

A smirk forms on Robin’s lips as he opens the door and he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “You’ll just have to read it to find out.”

_____

They arrive at the elementary school just as the bell rings, and they part ways as Robin makes his way to the school’s little library. She watches for a few minutes in the hallway as students run toward the open doors wearing thick coats and well-stuffed backpacks that weigh them down and make them toddle—and a smile pulls onto her lips as Robin sets up the tables with pencils and erasers, crayons and pieces of scrap paper. One of the teachers joins him, tugging a cart of extra supplies—and Regina can’t help but laugh when Robin’s smile grows brighter and he stoops to assess the contents of the cart.

Taking a long and deep breath, she musters a smile and makes her way to Mary Margaret’s classroom and she hesitates for a brief moment, collecting her thoughts as she tries to find a starting point.

“Ms. Blanchard,” she asks, rasping her knuckles against the frame of the door. “Do you have few minutes?”

“Mayor Mills,” Mary Margaret says, her voice piquing with surprise. “Of course, I do,” she says, dropping a pink pen onto a stack of papers as she rises. “Please, come in.” A little awkwardly, Regina steps into the classroom—feeling out of place in a room full of low tables and miniature chairs. “What brings you by?”

Regina takes a breath. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about,” she begins as Mary Margaret’s brow creases in curiosity. “A favor, actually.”

“Oh… okay…”

“Henry is always telling me how… warm you are, and how thoughtful…”

“What a sweet boy…”

“Yes, he is,” Regina nods. “And, you’ve been so kind and wonderful to him. I so appreciate all you’ve done for him, all the encouragement you’ve given him… the support…” Her voice trails off—and her sincerity surprises even her. “So, with that in mind, you seem like a perfect candidate for a new imitative that my office has been planning.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Regina says, smiling at Mary Margaret’s obvious interest as her shoulders straighten and her eyes widen—and she can tell, even without any details, she’s flattered. “You see, at Storybrooke Hospital, we have several patients who… have… been there for quite some time with only the hospital’s staff to care for them. People who… don’t have families or people whose families can’t… be there often because of work and children, and other obligations.”

“Oh, how sad…”

“It is sad,” Regina agrees as her voice drops a few octaves. “So, we wanted to try out an outreach program… to help make them a little less lonely.” Mary Margaret nods, her eyes full of empathy—and Regina struggles not to smile. “We were hoping to find some volunteers from the community who could go to visit them—talk to them, bring them flowers, spend a couple of hours with them each week.”

“That’s such a sweet idea. I love that.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Does this mean I can count on you to help?”

“Of course!”

“Good,” Regina says, finally letting her smile tug up at the corners of her mouth. “Once we’ve worked out all the details, I’ll be in touch, then. You can expect a call from my secretary next week.”

“I look forward to it.”

“I’m so glad,” Regina says, feeling a little wave of relief wash over her. “I won’t take up any more of your time, Ms. Blanchard, but… thank you. Really. You have no idea how much your cooperation means to me.” Regina smiles once more and again, a little thrill runs down her spine—finally, she has a plan and she’d just set it into motion.

Her heels click as she makes her way down the hallways back toward the school’s library—and when she reaches is, her heart flutters as she watches Robin slide into a chair beside Henry. There’s another boy sitting with them at the table—and Robin opens a box of brightly colored blocks as Henry hands him a dry erase marker. Both boys watch him intently as he works his way through a problem that she can see deals with fractions—something Henry perpetually struggles with—and she watches he writes a step down and then moves the blocks around on the table. And she can’t help it when her throat tightens when Henry sighs in frustration, and Robin’s hand moves to his back, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades as he encourages him to try the problem again.

Her cell phone buzzes, drawing her out of the moment and when she pulls it out of her pocket, she sees that she has a new voicemail. Her brow furrows as she looks down at it—she hadn’t even felt it vibrating as the call was waiting to be received—and she flips open the phone to listen, not bothering to check the number. Taking a few steps away from the window, she wanders down the hallway and listens as Emma Swan explains that she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Henry since the voicemails they traded, and she’s had a change of heart—she wants to meet her son—and, Regina feels her heart beat slow as a knot forms in her stomach as Emma urges her to call her back so they can arrange a day and time that will work for all of them.