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Chapter Text

Land without magic - Storybrooke - Two months ago 

The sun shone bright through Mary Margaret’s colorful blinds, the mid-summer heat stifling in the small kitchen of her loft. 

Emma sat with her legs pulled up against her, feet precariously perched on the edge, iced coffee in hand, she watched Regina pace the small space between the kitchen island and the door. 

“It’s a terrible idea,” Regina said, her voice tense, as always, commanding. 

David turned his coffee cup in his hand studying the liquid inside. He had just suggested that they take Emma and Killian’s upcoming wedding to the Enchanted Forest, to their motherland. 

“If we go back,” Regina continued, her footsteps echoing through the tiny apartment, “There’s no guarantee we’ll make it home.” 

Stopping, she turned to David and Snow, the latter who sat on the couch, the book she’d been reading open on her lap, they shared a long look, and Regina inhaled sharply. 

“You don’t want to come back,” she said, studying their faces.

Emma sat up, her parents shared a long look between them, of the kind couples who've been married twenty years use to strategize their plan of attack.

“Seriously, guys?” Emma asked. 

She had been thrilled when her father had suggested they take her wedding to the Enchanted Forest, ever since the day she’d discovered her origins, that her mother was Snow White and her father Prince Charming, cursed to the land without magic by an Evil Queen (who just so happened to be standing in front of her looking stunning in an electric blue tailleur) Emma had wanted to find out more about her motherland, the place where she’d been born.

But not like this.

The land without magic was her home, where she’d been raised. The real world, as she still called it in her head, though it was no more real than the Forest, was the only place she knew as home. Not to mention, it was her son’s home. 

Henry sat with his gangly legs crossed at the ankle, he too had a cup of coffee in hand, his boyish roundness had begun to give way to the sharp edges of adolescence, and Emma was reminded of the fierce fight he’d had with Regina when she’d discovered he’d started drinking coffee.  

She turned her attention back to her mother, who had gotten up from the sofa and was circling the table, walking to Regina, her once-sworn enemy. 

“The Enchanted Forest is our home,” she said, “You must understand that, I am Queen of the White Kingdom, and I’ve abandoned my people for long enough.”

Hearing her speak this way, of being royalty and ‘her people’ gave Emma whiplash. When she'd met her, her mother had been a mousy haired, glasses-wearing school teacher. Of course, she'd never been any of those things really, only cursed to them by Regina, but that's how Emma knew her. She'd seen another side of her mother when they'd fallen through the portal, a side that Emma admired and respected, but she still had a hard time imagining her mother in a poofy dress and tiara.

“It’s not my home,” Emma said, “And it’s not Henry’s either.” 

“Don’t drag me into this, Ma,” Henry said, “I’d go.” 

“Henry,” Regina sighed, pushing her dark hair back, she sat down heavily, “You don’t understand what it means, living in the Enchanted Forest,” she looked straight at him, “No electricity, no running water, no TV,” she listed off on her fingers. 

Henry shrugged, “Yeah, but it’d be cool.”

Emma bit her bottom lip, meeting Regina’s gaze meaningfully, there was absolutely no way she was going to live the rest of her days with no running water. And plumbing! She suppressed a shiver. How did people live before plumbing? 

“How about this,” Snow said, before either woman could speak, “We put it up for a vote, you like democracy here, don’t you?” Snow turned to Emma, eyebrows raised in challenge. 

Regina cocked her head, “Do you truly believe anyone wants to go back there?” 

“I do,” Snow said, “And I think we should give people a choice, now that we have it.” 

Emma thought back to the day they’d found the bean. She and David had been on an ordinary patrol through the fields that straddle Storybrooke forest, when, in the distance, something had glinted a myriad of colors in the sun. Emma had recognized magic immediately, she had been taking lessons from Regina, not that they'd been going well, but at least she knew what magic looked like. 

The object had turned out to be a magic bean, extremely rare, and capable of opening a portal between this land and any other, among which, the Enchanted Forest. 

David's eyes had lit up in the sun. 

Emma supposed it was only right to give the citizens of Storybrooke a choice in the matter. She nodded, “Okay,” she said, “We’ll put it up for a vote, but once the results are in, no negotiating!”

The look on Regina's face gave her a moment's pause, but surely no one wanted to live in place without bathrooms! Right? And the wonders of the internet?   

David grinned, “Done,” he said, before his wife could speak. 

Emma had a lump in her throat.

With a gurgling scream Neal woke up from his nap on the couch; Snow picked him up and slung him against her hip. She cooed at Emma's brother, her blue eyes softening as she took his small hand in hers. 

Her gaze hardened as she glanced back at Regina, “George and Briar Rose went back,” Snow said wistfully, “And you never brought Xavier over, either.”

“I couldn’t bring everyone,” Regina said, throwing her hands up in mock despair, “Anyway if they want to rule over a wasteland, I say let them,” she shrugged one elegant shoulder, looking away. 

Tightness marked Regina's face, worry and fear, hidden beneath a careful facade of nonchalance, but Emma knew her too well not to see it. 

“Who’s Xavier?” Emma asked.

“Mom’s uncle,” Henry said,“the King of the Middle Kingdom?” he rolled his eyes at Emma’s confusion. 

Regina tapped her fingers against the wooden table, pushing her hair away from her neck she rose, “Very well,” She said, “I’ll organize the vote, it’ll have to be done quickly, if you want to go back in time for Emma’s wedding,” she turned to her, dark eyes searching her face for a moment, before turning away. 

Emma had been afraid of this place, once. 

She wouldn’t have admitted it for the world, but the dark cavernous space beneath Henry Mills’ Sr.’s resting place had sent cold shivers down her spine when she’d first come here. The fact that the vault was filled with the still-beating hearts of Regina’s victims hadn’t helped. 

Now though, she felt almost at peace, the familiar scent of Regina's perfume wafted up the stairs as she stepped downwards, her footsteps echoing on the dark walls. 

Emma was in a strange, melancholy mood, and she ran her hand along the cool stone as she walked down the hallway that led to the vault itself. She remembered the very first time she’d come down here, how different she had been. How different Regina had been. They had hated each other. Henry had brought them together, but this place had made them friends. Along with a thousand and one adventures they’d shared together. Emma had lost count of how many times Regina had saved her life, but she’d repaid her in kind. 

Throughout the insanity that had been finding out about her lineage, Emma had found an anchor, strangely enough, in her mother’s step-mother. In her son’s other mother. 

As she’d struggled to learn to live with her newfound family, her parents, her brother, her son. As she struggled through her relationship with Killian, Regina had been there. A life raft in the storm. 

A strange guilt settled over Emma as she thought of their evenings spent together, but she shoved it aside as Regina came into view, her back to Emma as she rifled through a box of worn books.

Emma watched her for a moment, crossing her arms over her chest she leant against the doorframe. 

Regina spoke without turning, 

“Emma.”

“Hey,” Emma replied, unsurprised.

Regina turned, a book grasped in her hands.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked, 

“Choosing what to take back.”

Emma sighed, true, she had come down here to talk to Regina about their imminent return to the Enchanted Forest, but she found she wished they could talk about anything else. 

Regina gave her a strange look, “Are you alright?” She asked.

Emma sat down heavily on one of her wooden chests, "What do you think?” 

Regina sat next to her, putting the book away.

“I know you were surprised by the outcome of the vote,” she said, “but it is their home…”

“Are you happy with it?” Emma asked, she couldn't imagine Regina being happy with going back to the place she'd been so desperate to leave she'd cast a curse and killed her own father for it. 

Regina sighed, shaking her head so that her dark hair fell back over her shoulders, “I’m not,” she said, quietly, “But I can’t not go.”

Emma traced the contour of her jaw with her eyes, set tight, anger blazed behind Regina’s dark gaze. Anger and something else, that Emma had rarely seen in her, fear. 

“Why not?” She asked. 

“Henry wants to go,” Regina said evenly, she rose and went back to her library, set in the back wall of the vault. She pulled out a book and rifled through it for a moment, before tossing it on a pile in the corner, “And I am not letting him go alone.”

Emma heard the note in her voice and narrowed her eyes, “It’s not dangerous, is it?” 

Regina straightened imperceptably, her fingers caressing the spine of another book, “Of course it is,” she whispered, she turned to face Emma, meeting her gaze, “You’ve been to the Enchanted Forest, you know what it’s like.”

Thinking back to the times she’d accidentally ended up in her homeland, Emma shrugged, it hadn’t been that bad then, save for a few ogres. 

“I thought your sister got rid of the ogres,” She said. 

“This isn’t about the ogres!” Regina cried, then pulled herself together clearing her throat, her hand on her hip, she paced the room, nervous energy radiating off of her like smoke, “The Enchanted Forest isn’t some…fairytale realm,” She stopped and looked over at Emma again, “Well it is, but it’s…you know the brothers Grimm?”

Emma shrugged, vaguely remembering the German writers who'd collected dark fairytales. 

“Yeah?” She said.

“The Enchanted Forest is more like what they described, than what Disney did.”

Emma sighed, leaning her head against her hand, “Regina, what do you mean?”

“You've seen Game of Thrones?” 

Emma met the other woman's gaze steadily, 

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, Emma,” Regina turned on her heel and walked back to her side, sitting down heavily next to her, 

“Do you not know anything about your own home?” 

“It's not my home, this is my home,” Emma leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. Sure, she might be a princess now, but she'd grown up an orphan.

“Do you not want to go back?” Regina asked, looking away, and Emma caught the tension in her jaw. 

“Go back? I'm not going back anywhere,” Emma said, then sighed as her friend pressed her lips together, “Is everyone going?”

“I spoke to Rumple, he and Belle aren't, I can't say I blame them. It'll be interesting to see an Enchanted forest with no Dark One.”

Regina got up and pulled a large book down from the bookshelf above them, dust rained down and Emma coughed slightly, pressing her hand to her mouth.

“Here,” Regina said, handing her the leather-bound book, it creaked under Emma's fingers, the material soft and pliable. In large, gold letters, the title read:

History and politics of the Enchanted Forest. 

Running her finger along the edge, Emma opened the first page, an intricate drawing of a map was spread over two yellowed pages. 

“This is the Enchanted Forest,” Regina said, her finger tapping the book.

Emma studied it for a moment, she traced the contours of her kingdom, the white kingdom, with her eyes. It met the middle kingdom to the north and west, and, along the border, someone had carefully penned in: 

Contested Territories. 

“What's this?” She asked.

“The fairy mines,” Regina sighed, “the largest source of magical power in the forest.”

“Why's it contested?” Emma asked, her eyes scanning over the rest of the page. Arendelle, the Rose kingdom, the Golden kingdom… names she'd heard vaguely mentioned by her parents, by Killian, even by her son. She'd never interested herself in them, more focused on her own family history, though now she wasn't sure she knew much of that either.

“They're contested because whoever controls the mines, controls the fairies, and whoever controls the fairies, controls the people.”

Emma quirked an eyebrow in question, forgetting the book, she crossed her legs and looked up at Regina.

“Fairy dust was used, long ago, to trap the ogres. Now it's used to increase the harvest, to keep crops from spoiling over the winter, to keep famine and plague at bay. It's the most valuable asset in the forest,” Regina explained with ease, though her countenance told a different story, her shoulders tight, her jaw clenched.

Emma tried to follow.

“And these mines…who owns them now?” 

Tapping her foot on the floor, Regina looked away, “I'm not sure,” she said, “when I cast the curse, I didn't bother to find out what it would do to the people in the kingdoms I left behind,” she shrugged, a blush creeping up her cheeks, “I thought the curse would last forever.”

Emma resisted the urge to tease her, now that they were moving to her parent's homeland, she needed to learn as much as she could about it. 

“Whose was it, before you cursed everyone?” 

“The White Kingdom's,” Regina sat down, leaning back against the stone wall, “There was a war, before I was born, between your grandfather, the king of the White Kingdom, and my grandfather, King Xavier of the Middle kingdom.”

“And my grandpa won?” Emma asked, hiding a grin.

“No,” Regina said, “Leopold,” she took a breath at the name, and Emma regretted her smile, feeling the other's pain thrumming against her heart, she almost spoke, but Regina continued, 

“He was only a child, when the war ended, and it ended thanks to your grandmother's birth, Queen Ava, third in line to the middle kingdom throne. She was promised to your grandfather, the crown prince of the White Kingdom.” 

Emma blinked, she'd been under the impression that Ava and Leopold had loved each other deeply. That was what her mother had told her, and yet their marriage had been nothing but a political alliance. Her gaze drifted to Regina, who stared intently at the wall opposite them.

“Is that why he married you?” Emma asked, “After Ava died?”

“Very good,” Regina smiled, it did not reach her eyes. “Yes, that's why he married me. After your grandmother died, the kingdoms were on the brink of war once more, because of the mines. Leopold's marrying me was a stroke of genius on his part, though, of course, I know now my mother pointed him in my direction.”

“A stroke of genius?” Emma asked, she looked back down to the map, noting the light blue area that indicated the mines.

“King Xavier, my father's father, had left him the territory on the border of the white kingdom, where the mines are,” Regina explained, “So, in time, when my father died, those territories would go to me, if I were Queen of the White Kingdom, as well as lady of the Middle Kingdom, I'd have every reason not to want a war over the mines.”

“Wouldn't that make you…like, super powerful?” 

Regina laughed at the question, her sour mood seemingly lifting, she pressed her lips together and smiled at Emma, “I didn't need the mines to be powerful,” she said with a grin, “But yes, it put me in a rather unique position, of controlling both sides of the fairy territory, of course, the plan was for Leopold and I’s eventual heir to take over control of that territory, and to, in time, unite the two kingdoms.”

“But that didn't happen,” Emma said quietly, unsure how carefully to tread. She knew Regina hadn't had an heir with her grandfather, and, from Henry's book, she knew she'd taken away any possibility of her having a biological child herself.

“No,” Regina agreed, looking away, “That didn't happen,” she looked poised to add something, but changed her mind, one finger going to her lips.

Emma bit her lower lip and looked back down at the map, each kingdom painted a different color, she studied them for a moment before speaking again,

“So, who did the curse bring over?” she asked.

Regina shrugged, then tapped the page, “Only those living in the white kingdom at the time, and not everyone, the three lord protectors of the provinces are still there.”

Emma ignored the title she didn't understand, instead she traced a finger over the red kingdom, 

“But George was here,” she said, “and Kathryn, isn't she heir to the Golden kingdom?”

“Yes, there were a few others I brought over,” she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “I didn't like them very much.”

“What about the others? From all these other kingdoms? The middle kingdom, the rose kingdom, what have they been doing for the past thirty years?” 

Regina's jaw clenched and she looked away, 

“I have no idea, but I think your mother may be under the impression that nothing has changed in the Forest, and I fear she's gravely mistaken.” 

Chapter Text

The smell alerted her first, an acrid smell of smoke that clung to her hair and clothes, and that did not belong in this lush forest. Snow slowed down to a trot, David coming up behind her on his white stallion, Neal strapped to his chest with a thick cloth. They shared a long look.

Something was wrong. The fertile black earth under their horse's hooves began to give way to dry, cracked dirt, billowing up and making them cough.

Snow covered her mouth and nose with her elbow. She turned at the sound of another horse approaching, Regina on her black steed, she held a hand to her face, eyebrows drawn. 

“Let's take the long way, up to king's hill,” she said, the sound muffled by her hand.

Snow narrowed her eyes, King's hill overlooked the citadel. From there they'd be able to see what was causing the smoke, which was growing thicker by the second, obscuring the sky above. Nodding, Snow spurred her horse onward, she knew the way by heart, though she hadn't been here in thirty years.

From the top of King's hill what was causing the smoke became obvious.

The city was on fire. 

Snow counted three armies, their banners colorful spots in the distance, they had camped themselves outside her city. Thousands of men, soldiers, vying for her throne. 

There must have been a battle recently, because the city walls, as ancient as time itself and tall enough to withstand ogres, had fires going on every tower. The farmland surrounding the city had been set on fire, too. Snow remembered spiraling green and gold fields from her childhood, the lands that fed the castle, now black and brown wounds on the landscape.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she wiped them away. Regina had told her things would be different, hadn't she? But Snow, the incurable optimist, would never have imagined this. 

She recognized the banners.

“What the hell,” Emma spoke, she wasn't very good on a horse, owing to her having grown up in a world where they were of little use, and she'd only now caught up to them. Henry trailed behind her on his much smaller horse. Regina had insisted. 

“It's the bannermen, the lord protectors,” Regina said, her dark gaze focused on the hazy landscape.

“I know,” Snow said, she had recognized their banners right away. Her father's best men, the men who protected the three provinces of his kingdom.

“Peter, Hugh and Robert,” Snow said their names quietly, she knew them all well, her father's men, his friends. 

A calloused hand took hers, and she looked up to meet her husband's eyes, Neal was asleep against his chest. Snow blinked back tears, she had to take back her kingdom, again. 

Her gaze fell behind David, to Regina. 

Yes, she had to take her kingdom back, but now she had a powerful ally by her side, instead of as her enemy. 

“What do we do?” Snow asked, her eyes on the former Queen.

Regina turned to her, “Lord Peter will bow to you, his army is small, he’d rather bow than lose.” 

Snow smiled, better an ally than an enemy.

“Then, we ride,” she said.

They approached the camp from the back, down here, in the valley, the smell of smoke was suffocating. 

Snow's very bones hurt as they rode through field after field, each one burnt to the ground, large clouds of dust and ash rose from the ground as they traveled.

At the edges of Lord Peter's camp Regina captured a boy, he couldn’t have been older than fourteen, younger than Henry. 

The boy had a soldier's coat on, a chainmail shirt over boiled leather. 

Snow didn't complain, watching instead as Regina held the boy by his throat, her dark eyes glinting down at his scruffy face. 

“Go to your lord,” she told him, “and tell him Queen Snow wants an audience” 

The boy’s eyes widened, then he nodded, and, released from Regina’s magical grip, he scampered off to find his lord.

Soon they were being escorted through the camp. Snow had seen war camps before, her father's and then her own. This one was particularly small, no more than five hundred tents, if they could be called that, simple animal skins hung over wooden sticks, made up Lord Peter's fighting force. No wonder he couldn't wait to see her. 

Their guide, a stocky young man in battered armor, led them through small avenues between the makeshift housing. Even the soldiers, few that there were, looked sickly and tired. 

They were ushered into the largest tent in the camp, big enough to house a table with five chairs, on it a large map of the Enchanted Forest had been drawn on the wood itself.

Lord Peter was nowhere to be seen, so Snow made herself comfortable, sitting at the head of the table. 

They were offered wine, and she took a glass gratefully, she'd forgotten just how much wine was drunk here, especially at political meetings. 

The wine was spoiled, but Snow managed to choke it down anyway.

She didn't rise when Lord Peter entered. 

He was older and sicker than she remembered. His pale face showed the signs of old age, lines criss crossing over his forehead like a map. He smiled when he saw her, dropping, with some difficulty, to one knee.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “it is good to see you.” 

Glancing at Regina, Peter's eyebrows drew together, “Your Majesty,” he said, looking at her. Regina inclined her head. 

Snow rose, looking down at the man on the ground.

“Lord Peter, I wish I could say the same,” she said, “But it appears that, in my absence, you've decided to play at war.”

The man swallowed, he studied the ground like it held the answers to life's questions. 

“Your Majesty, I assure you, I always had your interests in mind,” he coughed into his hand, “Your Majesty,” he repeated.

Snow sighed and sat down. 

According to the Lord Protector, the other two Lords had grown tired of waiting for her, and so, a year earlier, they'd both decided to claim her throne. War had ensued. Peter insisted his involvement had been on her side, to protect the throne for its rightful heir. Snow rolled her eyes surreptitiously as he spoke. 

“What happened a year ago?” Regina asked, “Why attempt to take the throne now?” 

Peter shrugged, “Things came to a head, Your Majesty, your uncle, King Xavier, he's gathering his forces, many believe he wants the kingdom for himself. To the East, the Rose kingdom is unhappy, there are rumors the Queen has high ambitions, ambitions on this land,” he turned back to Snow, “Your Kingdom is weak, Your Majesty, and has only grown weaker in your absence.”

–

The other two Lords came to heel soon after Peter. Winter was closing in, cool winds blowing from the north, and the men were tired from a year of fighting, their supplies dwindling. When the Lords had been given a choice, to continue the war, against Snow, backed by the feared Queen Dowager, or to surrender, they'd done the only thing they could, and bent the knee.

Snow had them locked in the dungeons, until she could figure out what to do with them.

She wandered through the ruined halls of her castle listlessly. The north wing had been destroyed by a storm three years prior, the library tower had caught fire during a battle, and half the inner wall had fallen last winter.

There was much to do, and not much money to do it with. 

Regina and Emma walked with her, just behind, they spoke softly of something that Snow wasn't listening to. Henry, probably.

They'd been forced to push back Emma's wedding, the castle was in no shape to host a party. Not to mention, the pantries were empty. 

Snow ran a hand through her hair,it was longer than it had ever been in the land without magic, as the three of them walked through the courtyard, Henry, Killian and David were practicing with wooden swords. Henry seemed to be enjoying himself. At least the boy was having fun.

The situation at White Castle, and in the White Kingdom, was worse than Snow had dared imagine. 

Walking quickly, she reached the tower, it had been there long before Snow had been born, and she hoped it would remain long after she was dead. 

Her gown snagged on the floor as she pushed open the wooden door to the tower, it was small, no bigger than an ordinary doorway, and made that way on purpose. 

The top storeys of the tower had housed the library (before everything had burnt down) but the cellar held the treasure. 

Stepping inside, Snow pulled her scarf closer, it was cool and damp, only thin slits in the walls let in any light from the outside. Regina and Emma stepped in behind her. 

Spiral stairs led upwards and downwards, and Snow began to make her way down carefully, the wood creaking under her weight as she went. She heard the other two follow. 

She had already been down here, brought by one of the castle's old stewards. He'd come to her on their third day there, she'd still been filled with hope, only mildly dampened by the three lords in her dungeons, and he'd told her he had bad news.

He'd taken her to the granary under the tower. The tragically empty granary. 

Snow had stared, dumbfounded, at the cavernous space. It was nearing September, and the room should have been stocked to the brim with grain. Instead, three small sacks in the corner made up their winter stores.

Barely enough to feed her own family, let alone an entire castle.

The steward had informed her there was no hope of a late summer harvest, as the fields outside had been ransacked by the three armies. That meant the surrounding villages were at risk of starving over the winter, too.

Snow picked up a torch and gestured to Regina, who lit it with a flick of her wrist. 

She left the other two down the dark corridor, their steps echoing on the stone walls. At the very end, a large oak door greeted them, taller than Snow by two heads, and wider than the three of them abreast.

With a shove, Snow pushed the door open, and moved to the side to let them through. 

Regina stepped in first, her hand held palm up, fire dancing in it. She gasped. 

“Snow…” Regina whispered, turning to her, firelight dancing in her dark eyes. 

“It's an empty room,” Emma said, “What did you want to show us?” 

She was reminded of where her daughter came from, really. Snow had refused, often, to acknowledge the truth to herself, that Emma had not grown up as her daughter, as princess of the White Kingdom, but as a common citizen in the land without magic. 

“Emma,” Regina responded before Snow could, “This is where the winter stores should be,” she sighed, “we have nothing?” 

Snow walked deeper into the cavernous space, no light penetrated within, and the ceiling was invisible from the ground, only a small circle of light from her torch lit her way. 

“There,” she said, pointing with her torch to a corner, three large sacks lay sadly next to each other.

“That's it?” 

Snow nodded, stomach turning. She realized she'd been hoping for Regina to have a solution.

“What does this mean?” Emma asked, she had walked over to the sacks and opened one, she inspected the grain within, pulling up a handful of golden seeds and letting them sift through her fingers.

“It means a lot of people are going to die,” Regina said quietly.

“What do we do?” Snow pleaded, “magic?”

“Even fairy dust can't fix this,” Regina said, shaking her head. With quick steps, as if to leave the sorry sight behind, she headed out. Snow followed. 

Back in the light of day, the early September sun sinking behind the ramparts and bathing the castle in golden light, Emma spoke.

“What you're saying is, we don't have any food for the winter?”

“Yes,” Snow said, leaning back against the tower, staring up at the cerulean sky, “the stores weren't filled over the spring and summer, the castle was too busy defending itself, and the invading armies burnt down most surrounding fields, there barely was a harvest.”

“And the lord protectors’?” Regina's question caused Emma to raise her brows, but Snow understood. 

“I've sent birds,” she said, “their granaries are empty too, and, anyway, I wouldn't let them starve to feed us.”

“Wait, are we going to starve?” Emma asked, her hands spread between them, her blue gown impeding her movements as she did.

“Unlikely,” Regina said, “We have some cattle, a few pigs, a dozen chickens,” she turned, pushing her hair back over her ear, the dark red gown she wore glittered in the setting sun, “we’ll survive this winter, I will write to my uncle, he'll help us. He must.”

Snow doubted the words even as she heard them, she had spoken to the Lord Protectors, King Xavier of the middle kingdom was no bleeding heart. He had his eyes set on the White Kingdom, and should he find out the dire straits they were in, he would certainly choose to move sooner rather than later. In early spring, when they were weakest.

“No,” she said, resolutely, “King Xavier must not know our situation.”

Regina sighed, “Snow, Xavier won't attack us now, not with you back here, he doesn't want a war with you.”

“You heard what Peter said, he was already gathering his forces.”

“Spies say he was gathering his forces,” Regina rebutted, “And that was before you took the throne back.”

“No,” Snow said again, she made her way to the great hall, where a fire had already been lit, despite the still mild temperatures, men and women passed her as she walked, intent on one task or another, they inclined their heads as they did. How many would die in the coming months? 

“What if we buy from him?” Regina asked, “Not much, enough to cover a bad harvest, perhaps.” 

To this, Snow nodded, though her mind cast back to that same steward that had informed her of the state of their granaries, their treasury was not in better shape. Gold was easier to come by, however, and they could afford to put off paying for some time. 

“And the fairy mines?” Regina asked, she and Emma followed her up the winding staircase that led to the eastern wing of the castle, narrowing as they rose.

Yes, the fairy mines. Another problem. 

Snow stopped before an oaken door, it swung inwards easily, the hinges recently oiled. 

The war room greeted her in all its sadness, they had been forced to relocate from the great room in the northern hall, to this one, no bigger than a bedroom. Snow disliked grandiosity for grandiosity’s sake, but even she knew there was power in symbols. And names. Which was why she had renamed this room the “meeting room” after she had taken the kingdom back from Regina, so long ago. It was the war room once more, now.

She sat down at the round table in the center of the room, the fairy mines. 

Regina’s rightful lands. Passed down from Henry, her father, who had administered the area with skill and diplomacy, of which he had plenty,the very reason his father had given him those lands in the first place. 

No one could say Regina was any less skilled in politics, but insofar as diplomacy went, she was more likely to intimidate and threaten than to appease. Although, perhaps, that was what the kingdom needed. 

Xavier had taken those lands for himself, ignoring the treaty that had been signed on the day of Snow’s mother and father’s wedding. The lands, not only so fertile they were called the “granaries of the forest” but full of fairy dust just beneath the surface,were to be administered by an impartial party. Who would ensure fair use on both sides. 

Snow realized that her father’s marriage to Regina had meant that, should they have any children, they would inherit the coveted lands, ruling on their mother’s side for the middle kingdom, and on their father’s for the white kingdom. Unfortunately, no such children had come. 

Instead, her father was dead, and Regina had cursed them to another land for thirty years. 

The rage simmered just beneath the surface was only stoked as Snow looked up into her step-mother’s eyes, to see her raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Well?” she asked.

“I need to think,” Snow snapped, almost regretting it as Regina took a step back, Emma’s own eyebrows rising.

“Sorry,” Regina said, raising her hands.She, however, did not leave, as Snow hoped she would, instead she sat down. “What about the lords? You can’t leave them to rot in the dungeon forever.”

“I can if I so please,” Snow retorted, sounding even to herself like a spoiled child. 

Regina sighed, “Of course, Your Majesty,” The mocking tone in her voice only helped to fan the fires in Snow’s stomach, but she let her continue, “But, who will administer the provinces if their lords are corpses in your dungeons?” 

Snow tapped her fingers against the mahogany desk. Regina was right, she needed them, as disloyal as they may be, she could not afford to lose all three at once. Not now. 

“They betrayed me,” she said, “I trusted them to keep my kingdom strong, and they went to war. How can I trust them again? how can I let them go without punishment?”

She hadn't noticed her husband and Killian’s entrance behind her, and jumped slightly as David spoke,

“So, don’t,” he said. Snow turned towards him, sighing as she did. 

She loved the man more than words could convey, and her heart swelled at the sight of him even now, beneath her anger, but a politician he was not.

“She can’t,” Emma said, “someone needs to hold the provinces together, right?”

Regina gave her a smile and a nod, the warmth in her eyes as she looked at Emma was a balm on Snow’s anger, and she managed to breathe again for a moment.

“Put them on trial,” Killian suggested, “Ask them to swear their loyalty to you, on pain of death, and then let them go.”

“A mock trial…” Snow mused, it wasn’t a bad idea. 

“He’s right,” David agreed, “These men, they aren’t disloyal to you, Snow, you were simply…gone.” 

She had known him too long not to notice the way he avoided looking at Regina as he spoke, but what interested her more was the soft hum of disagreement that came from the former Evil Queen.

“You disagree?” Emma asked.

Regina’s eyes widened, the way people do when they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Snow’s eyes narrowed. The expression was steeled back to nothingness within moments. 

“No,” Regina said, “Not at all.”

Snow made her decision. She nodded. 

“Very well,” she said, “Regina, write to Xavier, to George and to Rose, tell them of our arrival and ask for supplies, have the steward give you a list of what we need, tell them we’re willing to pay double,” she sighed, where were they going to get the gold? without the Dark One there was no one to,quietly, borrow money off of, “Do not let them sense our weakness.” It hurt Snow to even acknowledge that such weakness existed.

“I will hold court tomorrow morning,” she continued, “everything else will have to wait.” 

With that, she rose, making her way out of the room, she squeezed David’s arm, knowing he would understand she needed space, and made her way towards the north wing.

Even now, weeks after they had arrived, her heart ached at the sight of the crumbling walls. The corridor that led to the royal family’s chambers had fallen in in several places, leaving large gashes in the walls that gave onto the evening sky. Stars glittered around Snow as she made her way to what was once her chamber, the crown prince’s rooms. Princess, in her case. 

Her bedchamber was inaccessible, so she settled for sitting in her library, most of the books she had once cherished lay strewn on the ground, many made illegible by time. 

Tears did not mark her cheeks. She simply sat there, running her fingers through ancient dust and grime. Her own kingdom, crumbling around her. 

The sun's rays shone bright through the vaulted windows in the throne room. One of the only ones not touched by the war. For that, Snow was grateful. 

She sat on her throne, David sat next to her, his crown was larger than hers, and yet she was sure it was lighter on his head. 

It was to be the first time she'd held court since the day Regina had cursed them all to StoryBrooke.

The same witch, who had once been her mortal enemy, stood behind her along with her daughter and their son. Emma's husband-to-be mingled with the crowd, it wasn't appropriate, in this realm, to consider a man family before he was married.

Snow looked for him in the mass of faces, hundreds had come out to see their Queen. Many wore simple clothes, of hemp and wool and linen. They had the faces of those who worked from sunup to sundown, from cradle to grave.

Others wore elaborate gowns and tunics embroidered in gold, silver, and every color under the rainbow. Most of them, Snow recognized. Knights, ladies, earls, counts and everything in between. They all owed their loyalty to her. 

As she rose, the room quietened, and the mass of people dropped to their knees. 

Snow surveyed the room, every head was bowed to her, even behind her, Regina, Emma and Henry had bowed. She glanced at David, who gave her an encouraging smile. 

“Rise,” Snow said, “We are here today to celebrate our return to this land,” she smiled as she spoke, her eyes sweeping over the crowd, taking in their faces, “I for one, am incredibly happy to see you all again,” a round of loud applause followed her words, and she stopped, inclining her head in thanks. 

“Unfortunately,” She continued once the applause died down, “In my absence, there was some difficulty” she stopped, her gaze finding the three bannermen who stood together in the corner of the room, “In keeping the peace.” 

There was a low hum in the crowd. 

Snow watched the three men. They had been well fed in her dungeon, and looked no worse for the wear than they had a few weeks before. 

They were old, all three of them marked by time. Not the young, vigorous men Snow remembered bowing to her father. Breaking bread with her father. She swallowed roughly, he had considered them his friends, not just his bannermen; his subjects.

Peter met her eyes, the corners of his lips upturned in a small smile.

“But of course,” Snow continued,turning back to the hall, “it is difficult to rule without a Monarch. And I blame myself for this…situation” she beckoned the three lords closer, they shuffled forward, slightly impeded by the chains around their wrists. They stood before the thrones, around them people retreated, leaving space between the lords and the dias. 

“Lord Peter,” Snow said, and the man stepped forward, “will you swear your loyalty to the kingdom and to my rule, swear to protect and serve this land and its people, and uphold the royal family when necessary?” 

The man sank to one knee, “Your majesty, I swear it,” he said, “And I” he stopped himself.

“Go on, Lord Peter,” Snow said, one eyebrow raised.

“I apologize for the state you have found the kingdom in.” 

Snow smiled, a small soft smile, “Rise, Lord Peter” she told him, and he did. 

“You do not need to apologize,” she said, “we must look to the future now, a future that will be full of hope and beauty. And peace” 

If they could make it through the winter. 

Lord Peter nodded, and stepped back. A guard walled to his side, undoing the chains at his wrists and ankles. Peter's wife and daughter rushed to him, taking him in a warm embrace. 

“Lord Hugh” Snow said, turning away from the scene. The youngest of the three stepped forward, his eyes glinted with amusement. He knew this trial was nothing but a farce, and Snow wished it was not, just to wipe the look off his face.

She spoke before her anger could grow any larger. 

“Will you swear your loyalty to the kingdom and to my rule, swear to protect and serve this land and its people, and uphold the royal family when necessary?” 

“I will, your majesty” he said, his head bowed.  

Snow gritted her teeth. She would have to keep a close eye on this man.

“Rise, Lord Hugh,” she said.

He did, his sardonic smile still plastered on his face. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty” 

He stepped back. The last of the three lords was looking at Snow, Lord Robert, his eyes gray and calculating, his mouth set in a thin line. 

Snow knew him well, he was still a handsome man, even in his sixties, tall and broad, his face exuded confidence and strength. He had been Leopold's best friend. Administering the province closest to the White Castle, he was often there, dining with the royal family, hunting with the king. Snow's father had cared for Robert like a brother, after all, they had been raised as such. Robert had been taken in by the King, Leopold's father, as a ward. 

Snow had been raised to see the man as family. It was part of why her fists clenched and she could not keep the anger out of her voice when she spoke. 

“Lord Robert,” Snow said, he walked forward. He did not kneel. 

“Will you swear your loyalty to the kingdom and to my rule, swear to protect and serve this land and its people, and uphold the royal family when necessary?” she said. Each word staccato.

There was a long moment of silence, then he shook his head. 

“I will not, Your Majesty” 

Snow clenched her jaw. What was he playing at? 

“Why not?” 

Robert cleared his throat, his gray eyes steely, he spoke slowly, like someone who'd been practicing his speech for a long time. 

“You were gone,” he said, “for thirty two years, you were gone. And before that, there was civil war. You were never Queen,” he stopped, judging her reaction, she gave him none, “now you come back and want us all to kneel and apologize like dogs,” he spat. 

Snow felt blood rise to her head, it boiled in her veins and turned her stomach. Her manners stopped her from screaming the next words.

“My lord, you forget yourself. This is my kingdom. And you will kneel” she said stiffly. 

“Or what?” he asked, his chin rising in defiance. 

“Or I will send you away,” Snow said, her voice steely, she would exile the man if it meant never seeing his face again,“My father did not suffer traitors, and neither will I.”

“Your father was King, you are a girl playing at being Queen” he retorted. 

Snow rose and stepped towards him, her voice low, it was all she could do to stop herself from drawing the sword hanging at her side. Cerimonial, to be sure, but very sharp nonetheless.

“Lord Robert, I came back to this realm expecting my bannermen to have upheld my wishes, to have maintained the peace in my land. Instead what do I find? Fields of corpses. War. Famine. My people, dead and starving,” she was very close to him now, looking up into his eyes, the scent of sweat and dirt reached her nose, “all because of your avarice.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have abandoned them, then,” he said, he stared down at her, meeting her eyes with unrestrained anger. 

“Kneel” Snow said, and her tone commanded no objection, behind her she heard a guard unsheathe his sword. Lord Robert must have seen him, because he knelt. 

“Now,” Snow said, “You will swear your loyalty to me, or you will leave this land and never come back. Choose”

“Your Majesty” A woman’s voice came from the crowd, she rushed forward, landing on her knees next to Lord Robert, her dark hair had come loose from her braid and stuck to her face “Please, forgive my husband, he is an old man, he will give up his lordship in favor of our son, John.” 

Snow did not know her, Robert must have married her while she was in Storybrooke. 

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Amina.”

“Lady Amina, I appreciate your courage, but it is your husband’s hand that caused this war, not your son’s. It is your husband who will swear fealty, and who will apologize for his actions.”

Robert gave her a scathing look, which Snow ignored. Amina’s face was upturned towards her, tear tracks running down her cheeks. 

“Not to mention,” Snow continued, “His disloyalty during the dark reign,” she hadn't forgotten how long it had taken the three bannermen to come to her aid against Regina. Even Robert, Leopold's right hand man, hadn't answered her pleas for weeks. 

Amina stared up at her. 

“For that, I ought to have him executed,” Snow said, feeling power surge through her as Amina cried out, her hands going to Snow’s dress, pulling at the thick material of the gown.  

“Please, your majesty, that wasn’t my husband. That was her.” 

Snow didn't need to turn to know she was pointing at Regina, behind the throne. 

“She seduced him, the witch!” Amina cried. 

Snow cocked an eyebrow. That was news to her. She didn't glance back.  

“She used her charms, her dark magic, to force him to her side,” Amina spat, “she took him to her bed, but he was still loyal to your father, he was!” 

The hum of voices in the hall grew to a frenzy. 

“Amina,” Robert’s voice was low as he took his wife’s hand.

Snow unsheathed her sword, her vision going red as she did, and pressed it against his neck. 

“Is that true?” She asked, her voice barely a growl.

Robert’s eyes had gone wide, fear etched across his features. Snow’s heart leapt in her chest, she pressed the sword harder against his neck, drawing blood. His gaze jumped behind her, and Snow knew who he was looking at. 

“Don’t look at her,” she said, “Look at me,” her barely restrained anger threatened to break through, small rivulets of blood ran down his chest, caking his tunic. 

“Your Highness,” Amina said, her voice cracking, “It wasn’t him–”

“Quiet,” Snow commanded, “My father treated you like a brother, you were his best friend” she said, “and you betrayed him.”

“I loved your father” Robert said, his voice trembled as he spoke, “He was a brother to me.” 

Snow nodded, slowly, deliberately. “You knew him well,” It wasn’t a question, but he answered.

“Yes, I did,” he said, his adam's apple bobbing madly.

“Then, what do you think he would have done to the man who betrayed his daughter and took his killer to bed?” 

He stared at her for a long moment, before glancing behind her again, “Regina,” he plead, quietly. Snow did not turn to see her response. 

Her father's face swam before her eyes. He had been a good king, just and fair, and he had not tolerated betrayal. Snow would not allow traitors to fester among her subjects.

“She can’t save you now,” she said, and raised her sword. Behind her, David cried her name.

It was too late, the sword swung downwards, there was a moment of pressure and then, with a sickening crunch blood spurted out of Robert’s severed neck in fountains. It drenched his wife, who screamed. 

Snow stepped back, taking a breath. Blood covered her blue gown, staining it a deep red. Raising a hand to her face she realized it was wet, she inspected her fingers, they were covered in blood. 

Robert’s head had been cut clean off. 

His headless body fell forward, as Amina screamed, the sound piercing through the silent room.

Snow sheathed her sword. She turned and walked up to Regina, who stared at the severed head behind her, her expression unreadable. 

“Thank your lucky stars it isn’t you,” she said, low enough that no one but Regina and Emma could hear.  

Amina was draped over the lifeless corpse of her husband, her entire side drenched in his blood, she screamed. 

“Why?” she finally managed, after some incoherent crying, “why not her?” she stared at Regina through her tears.

“Regina is my step mother, she is Queen Dowager, and she has apologized and repented. Something your husband did not do” Snow said, evenly. She sat back on the throne. 

“And you need her, because she has magic,” Amina said.

Snow said nothing. Yes, she needed Regina's magic, especially now. More importantly, she needed the threat of Regina’s magic.

“Where is your son?” Snow asked, a man stepped forward. He looked like his father, tall and wide, with sharp gray eyes. 

“Here, your majesty” he said, and knelt, avoiding the puddle of red next to his father's headless body. 

“Lord John, will you swear your loyalty to the kingdom and to my rule, swear to protect and serve this land and its people, and uphold the royal family when necessary?

“I will, your majesty” he said, and Snow nodded, 

“Good, very good,” she said. 

She took a long breath. 

“I’m sorry about your father, Lord John, he was a good man. But a weak one.”

“Yes, your majesty,” John said, his voice even. He leaned down and took his mother by the shoulders.

“Take his body home, and give him a proper burial,” Snow said. 

John's guards took the headless corpse away. Amina took his head. 

Snow sat back against her throne, the iron scent of blood reached her nose, she gagged, wiping at her face. The blood was already coagulating, hardening on her skin. 

“Court is adjourned,” she said to the room at large. 

The silence was complete as the crowd filed out. 

Hugh's smile had been wiped off his face.

Chapter Text

Henry vomited. 

The acrid smell of his puke made Emma gag, she pressed her hand to her mouth and nose and rubbed his back. The small, private courtyard behind the great hall was empty, save for the three of them. Henry leaning against a mandarin tree, Regina sitting on the step next to him, and Emma attempting to comfort them both. 

As Henry heaved again, Emma leaned back against one of the columns that surrounded the courtyard, cool granite stuck to the exposed skin on her back, and she sighed. The morning sun’s rays shone down in the small, carefully manicured garden. 

Closing her eyes, she saw it again, the blood; the way flesh gave way to steel, Robert's head rolling off his neck like a ball, falling to the ground with a thud. Acid filled her mouth, and she swallowed it back. 

As the stench of vomit reached her nose she turned away.

Regina held her head in her hands, her frame crumpled on itself on the ground, her knees pressed to her forehead. She looked up as Henry righted himself, he staggered for a moment before sitting down next to his mother. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders. Her dark eyes rimmed with red.

“Are you okay?” Emma asked, unsure what else to say. 

They turned to her, identical pale faces, eyes wide. Emma was struck by their resemblance.

Regina’s eyes had taken on a glazed, far away look. Without thinking, Emma knelt before her on the stone, her hands going to her knees. 

“Regina,” she said, “are you alright?”

She seemed to shake herself out of her stupor.

“I’m fine,” she said, pulling her son closer to her, his head in the crook of her shoulder, “fine.” 

Emma sighed, running her hand over her eyes, she saw it again, the blood, the sound of metal through flesh, the scream. She swallowed back bile.

“Mom,” Henry murmured, his voice rough, “is it true?” 

he pulled away from his mother, his hazel eyes, the same color as Emma’s, she knew, lost in space. There was no answer, Regina looked down at her hands, wringing them together.

Henry didn’t seem to notice his mother’s distress, he spoke again, words flowing from his mouth like water from a torrent, one after the other, unbroken.

“Why would she do that? his wife said he would kneel, his son would take his place. I can’t believe she’d do that, she’s Snow White. Snow White! How could she? there was so much blood, and now, now he’s, he’s dead. His head–”

At this Regina turned to him, taking his gesturing hands in hers, 

“Henry, stop,” she said, “breathe.” 

He tried. He began to sob. 

Regina pulled him close, her own eyes wet.

Emma watched them, her hands on Regina’s legs, her knees dug painfully into the stone. 

A door slammed shut somewhere behind her, making her jump. Turning, something inside her recoiled as she watched her mother, her father in tow, make her way over to them. Each step punctuated by the echo of her shoes on the marble. 

Emma didn’t turn to see Regina’s face, but rose to meet her mother, whose dress was still covered in coagulated blood. The red in striking contrast with the pale blue of her gown. 

Snow’s face, too, was covered in it, Robert’s lifeblood on her like war paint. The image was an impressive one, at first glance it might have been her own blood, caking her neck and cheeks. If it hadn't been for the flushed skin beneath, which spoke to Snow’s health, and gave away that the blood did not belong to her. 

When she reached Emma, she stopped. Glancing at Henry, her eyebrows drew together, 

“Henry,” Snow said, “I’m sorry you had to see that,” her stoic facade did not fail, her words of little weight. 

She said nothing to Regina, taking Emma by the arm and steering her away, towards the well at the center of the courtyard,

“I’d like to show you something,” she said, quietly, “I need to go somewhere, to think, to…decide, and I’d like you to come with me.” 

Her words, softly spoken, were in sharp contrast with her looks, the sword still hanging by her side. 

Emma stared at her for a long moment, her mind a jumble, torn between Henry and Regina, whose presence she could feel somewhere behind her, and her mother, standing before her, covered in blood. The crown on her head lopsided, her complex updo undone by nervous fingers. 

“Sure,” Emma said, after a moment’s hesitation, “Uh, yeah, of course.”

Snow gave her a small smile, squeezing her upper arm, “Come, we’ll need a horse.”

The breeze ran through her hair as they dismounted their horses, bringing with it the soft scent of flowers and earth. Emma shook her head, letting her hair cascade down her back, smelling horse and leather. 

The hilltop Snow had taken them to was bare, sparse trees dotted the valley below, crowns of bright green where the river was plentiful, its silver tongue snaking between them, clearly visible from their vantage point. 

The dense forest gave way to the high grasses they'd galloped through, dry and brittle where no trees gave shelter from the bright sun, red poppies dotted the sea of gold. 

The grassland swayed in the soft breeze as the sun shone down from its zenith. Golden blades rustled as Emma and Snow made their way up the hill.

At the very top of the hill, nestled next to the largest oak tree Emma had ever laid eyes on, was a rectangular building. Squat and short, it dominated the landscape with its muted red facade, three steps led up to a nondescript wooden door. The oak tree’s foliage cast the entryway into shadow, and Emma stopped to enjoy the coolness of the breeze on her sweat-sticky skin. 

The building had been untouched by time, where the rest of the land had been ravaged, the small building stood, the door that led into it was built of simple wood, yet not water nor wind had marred its surface.

Snow pushed her way in.

Their footsteps resonated against the marble floors, the high ceilings echoing the sound, carrying it, announcing their arrival to the eerie silence. 

Shafts of multicolored light shone through the glass panes in the vaulted windows, images of great battles, heroes and dragons immortalized in colored glass, reflecting the light in a myriad of colors onto the dark floor.

At the very end of the short building stood an altar, ornately decorated with river stones, glinting green and blue in the sunlight, shining onto it from the windows above and to the side. 

To their left, white marble had been delicately carved into the shape of a man, he lay on his back, his hands gripped around the hilt of a sword. 

Snow stepped up to him and reached for his hand, gripping it tightly. 

The man had been so lovingly sculpted he appeared to be sleeping, marble lashes closed against his cheeks, soft lips parted slightly.

Emma was almost surprised to feel cool stone against her fingers when she stroked his hand.

Snow bent her head over his chest, her hands gripping his tightly. She spoke a few words, which Emma didn't catch, but her voice shook as she did, as it does when holding back tears. 

When she straightened herself, tear tracks had cut through the blood on her cheeks. Taking Emma's hand, Snow placed it on the man's chest.

“Father,” she said, her voice steadier, “this is my daughter, her name is Emma, you would've liked her,” she laughed a little, “she's stubborn like mom, but she has your heart, and your laugh.” 

Emma watched her mother, whose gaze was glued to her father's face, emotion brimming through the flushed cheeks and bright eyes. 

After a moment, Snow turned back to Emma, stepping away from her father's tomb. 

“I had to, Emma” Snow said, slowly, “Robert was my father’s man, his best friend, his liege, his…brother in all but name.”

Her lower lip trembled, and Emma reached forward, pulling her into an embrace. She smelled like sweat and blood, but underneath that was the now familiar scent of her mother’s skin. Emma sighed against her shoulder. 

“I understand,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she did. 

She had just watched her mother kill a man. Behead him with a sword. And now she rubbed her back as she sobbed against her shoulder.

Slowly, Snow calmed herself, she pulled away from Emma and wiped her red cheeks with her hands, 

“He betrayed me, he betrayed my father’s memory, he had to die. This war they've brought to my land, to our land? it will be the end of us, do you understand?” Snow pushed her hair back, succeeding in pulling it further out off its complex updo.

Emma’s eyebrows drew together, “What do you mean?”

“Xavier,” Snow sighed looking away, “He has been waiting for a chance to take this land, for generations, his family has been waiting for this.” 

“What have they been waiting for?” Emma felt incredibly foolish. Ever since they’d come here, to this strange, foreign place, it had felt like everyone, including her son, knew what was going on, but not her. 

Snow seemed to agree with her, her jaw clenched.

“A long time ago,” she started, “the Enchanted Forest was one kingdom, ruled by one king, this was before the first ogres war,” she looked to Emma, who nodded, as if she knew what the first ogres war was. 

Snow sighed again.

“Back then, ogres roamed the land freely, it was a dangerous time for humans, we didn’t have magic, and fairies lived in their own world. They didn’t help us, ever.”

They walked around the tomb as Snow spoke, and Emma noticed the plaque, attached to the feet of the statue. It read: King Leopold of the White Kingdom, third of his name. Along with a date Emma didn't bother trying to understand. She had given up on time keeping for now. 

“Then the King, Luther, discovered the fairy mines,” Snow gave her a loaded look, which Emma blinked at, “With the help of the fairy dust, humans gave themselves magic, and used the dust to imprison the ogres in the glaciers, one of which is in this kingdom.”

“The glaciers?” Emma repeated, trying to figure out how any of it had anything to do with their current situation.

“Yes,” Snow said, “once the ogres had been imprisoned a new era began, humans used magic and fairy dust to build cities, grander than any you could imagine, famine and disease became things of the past, there was great wealth and abundance.”

Emma figured that wasn’t going to last.

“Then what happened?” she asked.

Snow gave her a grim smile, “The fairies weren’t too happy with us stealing their magic, and they began a war, but you shouldn’t imagine a war like that which you’ve heard of. This was a magical war, and it ended with the explosion of the Belgur volcano,” Snow stopped by her father’s head, stroking his hair, “The ash from the explosion caused the sky to darken for a year, famine followed and the people rose up against the king, who tried to squash the rebels with sword and fire.” Snow stopped here, she looked back up at Emma, the light from the multicolored windows shone around her, bathing her hair in color.

“His sister, Mathilda, who was a sorceress, wanted to use magic to regain control,  King Luther had become afraid of magic, he had learnt first hand that it always comes with a price.” 

“So they fought?” Emma asked, she was starting to learn a thing or two about humans. For example, that their reaction to anything was violence. 

Snow nodded, “There was a civil war, with Luther controlling the east, where the middle kingdom is, and Mathilda the west and north. The ogres, having sensed the weakness and instability of humans, used it as their chance to attack, which caused the second ogres war.”

“But humans won that one too, didn't they?” 

“Yes, with much blood and loss, but we won,” Snow agreed, “after the war, the forest was split, half under Mathilda and half under Luther. We are descendants of Mathilda,” Snow gave her a smile, and Emma supposed she should feel proud. 

“Luther's descendants, Xavier's family, have always claimed that they are the true kings of the forest, the only true rulers, they have tried, time and time again, to reunite it under their banner. We have always been stronger.”

“Why didn't he do it while you were cursed?” Emma asked. 

“Back then there were only two kingdoms,” Snow said, “now, there are seven, some are forces to be reckoned with, and many are still our allies.”

Emma walked over to her, noticing, for the first time, the smaller tomb next to Leopold's. She walked over to look at it, a woman's body had been carved in the marble. She had been beautiful, her lifelike hair carefully styled around her slim face. The sculptor had given her a smile. 

“My mother,” Snow said, taking the small step down from where her father's tomb was to her mother's. 

The plaque at her feet read: Queen Ava of the White Kingdom. Born Princess Ava of the Middle Kingdom.

“There was a war, before I was born,” Snow said as Emma read, “between our kingdoms, it only ended when my mother was born, and promised to my father.”

“Right,” Emma said, finally something she knew, “Regina told me.”

Snow gave her a sharp look, “She did, did she?” 

Moving over towards the wall, where no light reached, Snow touched something, next to Ava's tomb. Emma followed her.

There was another tomb, actually, a coffin. It had no statue, it was open, and empty. The inside of the coffin had been carefully embellished with intricate engravings. 

“It's empty,” Emma said, then looked down, the plaque had already been attached to the feet of the coffin. Her heart stopped in her throat. 

It read: Queen Regina of the White Kingdom. Born Lady Regina of the Middle kingdom. There was only one date.

Emma stepped back, her eyes wide. 

“What is this?” 

“Regina's tomb, it was constructed along with my father's. It's tradition for the Queen to be buried next to the King.”

“What.. but..” Emma stammered. 

“Don't worry,” Snow said, “she'll never be buried here, I'll make sure of that.” 

Her hard tone made Emma's insides turn.

“You're angry,” she said. It wasn't a question.

“Of course I'm angry!” Snow cried, she grabbed the sides of the coffin, her fingers dipping inside, “She's the reason all of this is happening, she's the reason my kingdom is weak, the reason my people haven't seen me in thirty years!”

Emma had nothing to say, it was true. 

“What are you planning?” She asked instead.

Snow studied her for a long moment, her eyes dark in the shadow. She stepped away, towards the door, and Emma followed her out in the midday sun. 

“I know you care for her,” Snow said, slowly, “and so do I,” she turned her head to look Emma in the eye, “and, anyway, I know she cares for this kingdom, she left the lord protectors here, did she not?” 

Emma said nothing, watching the breeze play through the oak tree’s branches over them.

“If it hadn't been for them the kingdom would have fallen much sooner,” regret tinged her words. 

“Regina is a politician, but more than that, she is a force, there is not a king or queen in the forest who doesn't fear her,” she sighed, “or hate her.”

Snow stepped down, into the high grass that surrounded the building, it reached her waist, and she ran her fingers through the tops, “As long as we have her on our side, we will be feared,” she stopped to look at Emma, “and, as long as we have Henry, we have Regina, you know that, don't you?” 

Emma pressed her lips together, something inside her was breaking.

“You're not going to use my son-" she said slowly.

Snow interrupted her, “I never said anything of the sort, I only mean that, now, we are family. But Xavier is Regina's family too, and we must make sure she chooses us over them.”

“She will,” Emma didn't need to think about it, Regina would burn the world to the ground for Henry.

“One one hand,” Snow said, “I don't want to part with her, I would prefer to have her here, by our side,” she swallowed, cocking her head, “she's a powerful sorceress, and certainly a deterrent to a direct attack.”

Emma thought there was more to it, but she said nothing. 

“On the other, she has a claim to the fairy lands, Xavier has extended his sticky hands too far.” 

As she spoke, a blackbird chirped, it jumped from one branch of the oak tree to the other, then took off in flight. With an elegant swoop, it perched on Snow's shoulder. She stared at it, its orange beak pointed at her cheek. It chirped once, and Snow reached up, stroking the black feathers at the back of its neck. It allowed her, leaning into her touch before jumping off and flying away.

Snow watched it go for a long moment.

“My father used to say that a King, or a Queen, will often be presented with difficult, sometimes life or death, decisions. He would say a monarch, a true leader, would always choose what was best for his kingdom, and not himself or his family.”

Snow’s gaze was far away, in another time, with another person. When she turned back to Emma, her blue eyes were hard, her decision made. 

The private gardens fascinated Emma. They were one of the few things in the northern wing of the castle that had survived the war, and the ravages of time. 

She had had to pick her jaw up off the floor the first time she'd seen them, and now, cleaned, with the greenery in full bloom they were a sight to behold.

A simple wooden door in the side of a hallway led to them, a terrace easily ten times Emma's apartment in Boston. At the center of it stood a beech tree that must have seen a hundred summers, its white trunk too large for one person to wrap their arms around. 

The tree's branches jutted out in a way that created a bright green canopy above a large part of the terrace, which had been allowed to grow freely, except for a few paths that led to the far end of the terrace.

Behind the tree, the view was breathtaking, the terrace looked out over the castle walls, and here Emma had understood why they called it the Enchanted Forest. Beyond the castle, acres of green spread as far as the eye could see. She knew that on the other side stood burnt fields and several small villages, but here, humans and war had touched nothing. 

She turned as Henry and Killian's voice approached them, Snow leaned against the balustrade, she had changed into a clean gown, green like the trees behind her.

“Hi, love,” Killian said, reaching her and pressing a kiss to her lips. Emma smiled, squeezing his arm. 

Henry was looking better, his dark hair still matted with sweat, but the paleness had left his face. He gave her a tentative smile.

Behind them, Regina and David spoke in soft voices, they quietened as they reached the small group. 

Regina's eyes met Emma's, and wordlessly, she asked her what had happened. Emma pressed her lips together, where to begin?

Snow pushed away from the banister, 

“Regina,” she said, “I need to speak with you, would you walk with me?” 

Inclining her head, Regina followed her, hands joined together in front of her. 

Emma watched them go, before pulling her son into her side, he was almost as tall as her now, and his hair tickled her cheek. 

“What have you three been up to?” She asked.

Henry shrugged under her arm. 

“We've had a walk around,” Killian said, reaching over and missing his hair, “haven't we?” 

“Yeah…” Henry said, before turning to Emma, “There's another part of the gardens, have you seen it?”

Emma shook her head, putting on a smile, “Wanna show me?” 

He nodded, not particularly enthusiastic, “Sure, it's nice, it's a labyrinth.”

Great, Emma thought, so they could get lost and she'd look like an idiot, again. She grinned encouragingly. 

The labyrinth, it turned out, had been pretty much razed to the ground. They'd had to, Henry explained, because the hedges had overgrown, and it had become inescapable. 

Emma was grateful for small victories as they walked around. Though her son's silent brooding worried her deeply. 

“Henry,” she said, after some time, “do you want to talk about it?” 

He didn't hesitate, “What's grandma saying to mom? What are they talking about?”

Emma was slightly taken aback, but she took his hand, “politics,” she said, “don't worry about it, kid, okay? Snow isn't angry with your mom,” well she was, but she needed her. 

“Are you sure?” His voice was small, like a young child's, though he was almost a man, Emma thought wistfully.

“I'm sure,” she said, “that was scary, wasn't it? What happened with Robert?” 

Henry swallowed, looking away.

“I didn't think…I didn't realize…” he ran one hand over his hair, blinking back tears, “it was awful,” he whispered. 

“I know,” Emma said, squeezing his hand, “I know, but things are…well, they're not so great right now, but they'll get better, and it's going to be good, okay?” 

Henry shook his head, “I thought it was going to be fun, I thought I'd get to be a knight and ride horses and…” he pressed his hands to his face, “I can't stop thinking about it, there was so much blood and…” he stopped, looking at Emma expectantly. 

“And what?” 

He swallowed hard, one tear leaking from his eye, “it could've been her,” he whispered, “it could've been my mom.”

“Oh, kid,” Emma's heart gave a squeeze in her chest, she pulled him close and hugged him hard, “No, it couldn't, Snow would never do that to your mom.”

“What about her?” He murmured against the bare skin of her neck, “Would my mom do that to someone else?” 

Emma wasn't sure what to say to that. She had read Henry's book before coming here, to the enchanted forest, and knew what Regina was capable of. It had worried her. Perhaps she should have worried about her mother too. 

Regina, for now, hadn't shown any murderous urges. But then again, who was to say this wouldn't set her off? Who was to say she wouldn't spiral back into insanity after what Snow had done? 

She was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the woman in question.

Regina's red dress glittered in the sun, it contrasted beautifully with her skin. Her dark eyes met Emma's, full of tears, barely contained. 

As she reached them, she pulled Henry into her arms, he was taller than her, and she stood on tiptoes to kiss the side of his head.

“Mom?” He asked, pulling away, “What is it?” 

Emma studied her face carefully, there was no sign of the Evil Queen, that she could see. All she saw was a grieving woman, whose hard mask could not hide her pain, not from Emma.

“Henry,” Regina said slowly, she took his hands, meeting his eyes, “You remember how I told you about my father's lands?” 

“The fairy lands? Where the mines are?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she looked at Emma, closed her eyes, and continued, “I have to go there, I need to take those lands back, for this kingdom, for Snow, for you.”

“Take them back?” 

“My uncle, King Xavier, he has them under his control, for now,” Regina's eyes hardened, “But it won't take long, and we'll see each other again, very soon,” she stroked his cheeks, as tears began to fall from his eyes.

“Can't I come with you?”

“No, sweetheart,” Regina kissed the top of his head, “you need to stay here, with your mother and your grandparents, they need you.”

“but I need you,” he murmured quietly.

Regina bit her lip, “I won't leave right away,” she said, “I'll stay another week, but I must go before the first snow falls, otherwise we'll never get there.”

“What about magic?” Emma asked, “can't you…you know, poof yourself there?”

“You have a great deal to learn, Princess,” Regina said, but she smiled as she did, “the distance is far too wide to cover with magic, I'd have to use all of my power, and even then, it might not be enough.”

“When will you be back, then?” Henry asked. 

“As soon as the last snow melts, I'll be on my way back to you, I promise.”

“In the spring?” 

“In the spring.”

Henry's tears came thicker and faster, he pulled her close, practically crushing her head to his chest. Emma placed a hand on his shoulder, the other on the small of Regina's back. Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest.

Later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, and Henry had gone with David to practice fencing,

Regina and Emma sat beside one another. The bench they'd chosen looked out over the forest, and had a perfect view of the sunset. Pink and orange clouds swam merrily over the pale blue sky. 

Emma hugged herself as a cool breeze played over her skin, the days were getting shorter, and colder. Soon, winter would be upon them.

“Is it dangerous?” She asked Regina. 

The woman next to her gave no sign of having heard her question, she had thrown on a thick scarf around her shoulders, over her dress.

“It won't be a walk in the park,” she said, after a moment, “I'll bring men with me, Snow has given me my pick of the Queen's guard, many of them were my men, before the war, before the curse. I trust them, good men.”

Emma turned to look at her, her profile sharp in the setting sun. 

“So, you're scared,” Emma wondered if she was playing with fire. She knew Regina in the land without magic, they were friends. But that was a different Regina, that Regina wore tight suit pants and vests with expensive shirts. This Regina…well, she was different. Her eyes were harder, her dark hair longer, she wore big, expensive looking dresses with jewels sewn in the bodice. 

This Regina was comfortable here, this Regina didn't recoil at the sight of blood and the beheaded head of her ex lover. This Regina scared Emma, because she didn't know her. 

Emma didn't know where her Regina ended and this Regina started.

For now, though, the response told Emma nothing. 

Regina shrugged. 

“It won't be easy,” she said, “I have no illusions that my uncle will simply hand me the lands once I get there, though they are mine by right,” her voice came from far away, as though she wasn't truly speaking to Emma.

The sun's last rays bathed them in golden light, and the shadows of the trees around them lengthened.

Emma thought of the man who'd died that morning, the way he'd looked to Regina, the way he'd said her name. As if she could save him. As if she would.

“I saw your tomb today,” Emma said, almost conversationally. 

Regina laughed once, “Oh? What did you think? My late husband was rather proud of it.”

“Was it built before he died?” 

“Oh, yes, we picked out the stone a few months after the wedding,” she laughed, “of course, I didn't have much choice in it, seeing as Ava had already picked hers out.”

“That's…morbid,” Emma said, 

Regina's shoulders shook with laughter, and Emma relaxed next to her. 

“I suppose it is,” her fingers weaved together, “I remember going there, I must have been…oh eighteen years old,” she turned to Emma, “it was when I realized it was true, Daniel was gone and I would never see him again, even in death, I'd be buried next to a man I didn't love.”

Emma didn't know what to say, so she reached out and took her hand. Regina let her, squeezing her fingers tightly. 

“When are you leaving?” She asked.

“After the celebrations,” Regina said quietly, “it should still be warm enough…”

“Celebrations?” Emma asked, “What celebrations?” 

Regina turned to her, dark eyes sharpening, coming in from far away.

“Right,” she said, “You don't have it in your world. On the last day of summer, we celebrate the end of the third Ogres war. It's a big feast,” Regina smiled, pulling her hand away from Emma's, “and it's a way to remember those who died to protect the lands of men.” 

The air had turned cool, but not cold enough to freeze, and Emma stood at her chamber window and watched the goings on below. 

From her vantage point she could see the castle courtyard, the large open space between the great hall and the walls. Enormous piles of wood had been constructed all around the courtyard, and up against the stone walls. 

Tonight would be the celebration, Emma still want quite sure in what the celebration consisted, but she had gathered it was rather important. Even Killian seemed to be taking it seriously. He'd left their bed early in the morning to help with preparations. As far as Emma knew there would be a speech, the fires would be lit, some singing would follow, and then there'd be a feast. It sounded like a good time.

She had dressed in cool blue, as she'd been instructed to do by Regina, and straightened her skirts as she pushed away from the window. It was nearly time, and her mother had told her not to be late. 

Emma made her way with quick steps to the great balcony. The semicircle jutted out from the war room out into the courtyard. From there, Snow would give her speech. 

The sun was setting over the horizon as Emma stepped out onto the terrace. 

Regina nodded at her as she did, deep in conversation with Snow and David. 

In the courtyard, throngs of people had begun to gather, walking in through the open gates in the great wall. 

The sounds of people talking and laughing wafted up to where Emma stood, looking down at them, many waved at her, their faces upturned to watch her. She waved back. 

Feeling someone lean against the balustrade next to her, Emma turned, her son watched the crowd below. 

“It's a lot, isn't it?” He asked, “lots of people.”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, “I guess this celebration is important.”

Henry glanced at her, “Yeah, ma,” he said, “it's like, sacred.”

Emma wasn't given time to question this, as Snow called to her, and instructed her on where to stand. With her back to the building, just far enough out to be seen, next to Henry and Regina. 

As the sun disappeared, leaving the world in half shadow, Snow stepped towards the balustrade. As her hands rested on the marble, silence fell over the crowd below. They looked up at her expectantly.

Emma swallowed, the air had taken on an eerie, tense feel. 

“Welcome,” Snow said, her tone somber, “I am so glad to see so many of you here today,” she paused, taking a deep breath, “today we remember the dark war, the war to end all wars, and we remember the dawn. Today we remember those who died, at the hands of the enemy, at the hands of the inhuman Ogres, those who died so that the empires of men could live. Tonight, we remember those we lost.”

Silence followed her speech, a heavy stillness that seemed to fill the space between them, rising up from the crowd and settling over them. 

Snow placed her hands together and looked down at the ground. 

Emma turned to look at Regina, expecting to see her annoyed, like she usually was, instead her eyes glittered with tears. 

Blinking, Emma turned to her son, who shrugged and shook his head. He didn't understand either. 

Killian, too, had his hand around his hook, his face grim.

Emma had never felt further from them. She had never felt more alien, as she watched her family grieve over something she hadn't known the existence of. She felt like an intruder, watching over a private moment. 

The silence continued for a long time, minutes ticking by in the stillness. Emma ever more restless. 

Finally, Snow turned to Regina, with a nod of her head she indicated something. Regina stepped forward and raised her hands. Fire exploded on her palms. 

Emma stepped back, watching in fascination as Regina threw the fireballs into the crowd below.

They hit the wood piles, which caught fire instantly, going up in thick red and orange flames. 

The crowd stood still for another moment, watching the fires around and between them. Then a slow chant started, punctuated by the slow, rhythmic beating of feet on the ground. The sound grew stronger and stronger hitting a deafening crescendo.

Emma strained to understand the words of the chant.

“Death to the ogres. Life to men.”

The crowd chanted, over and over again. 

Around her,the others, with the exception of Henry, followed the chant under their breath.

Goosebumps crawled over Emma's skin. 

Chapter Text

The geese flew overhead, in V formation. They squawked at one another, returning from their winter home on the southern islands as the weather warmed. 

Regina watched them, her face upturned towards the blue sky, white clouds dotted its expanse, but not enough to promise rain.

Cool breeze ran through her hair as her horse grumbled under her. Clicking her heels she led him forward, down the dirt path, between the fields. 

She was happy. Or rather, she was content. 

Her land was healthy, fertile, productive. Fields of green flashed past her on either side as her horse sped up, the farmers becoming blurry dots against the horizon. 

It felt good, to ride full speed, to feel the wind in her hair and against her cheeks. 

It had been easier than she thought, to get her land back. 

She had been worried, before arriving, in the weeks it had taken them to reach the fairy lands, she had had time to worry. The first snows had begun to settle just as she and her men had arrived in her ancestral lands. 

Regina slowed to a trot as her destination came into view. Between the trees, large mounds of dark earth dotted a stretch of land no bigger than her mansion back home. The tops of the dwarf village. 

Dismounting, she tied her horse to a nearby tree, and patted its dark neck. One thing she had missed in the land without magic were horses, cars never quite filling that spot in her heart. 

She walked away from him, heading to the entrance of the mines. It was barely visible in the thicket, but Regina knew where it was. 

The old oak tree, wide as men are tall, had stood there for generations. Marking the secret entrance. 

With a flick of her wrist, a mound of dark earth moved aside, revealing a metal trap door beneath. It opened before Regina had time to do so.

Blue’s arms appeared from the dark, and she clambered out. She had kept her human appearance since returning from the land without magic. 

“Regina,” Blue inclined her head as she stood before her, her lips did not curve in a smile. 

The fairy didn't like her, and Regina didn't expect her to. After all, she had cursed her to another land for over thirty years, and taken away her magic.

“Blue,” Regina replied, knowing well enough that she had a title. Queen of the fairies. But she had a title, too, and Blue had not used it. 

“I have asked you not to use your magic here before,” Blue chastised her, moving away from the open entrance, deeper into the forest.

Regina followed her, rolling her eyes only when she knew the fairy wouldn't be able to see her. As much as she disliked her, she needed her on her side.

“Yes, Blue, you have,” she agreed, “how are things running?” She asked, moving away from the touchy subject. 

Blue turned to her, stopping in her path.

“You did not come here to see the mines, did you?” 

Regina sighed, her hands joining behind her back. She was not allowed in the fairy mines, owing to her use of dark magic. It had nothing to do with the magic itself being dangerous, the fairies simply found her..unsavory.

“These are my lands, Blue,” she said, keeping her tone light, despite the pressing anger rising in her chest, “and you allowed my father down there to his heart's content. Indeed, if I remember correctly, I visited the mines several times, as a child.”

Blue inclined her head to one side, “You remember correctly,” she agreed, “but that was before you gave yourself to the darkness, before you allowed dark magic into your heart.”

Regina held back a scowl, keeping her features relaxed, “I am trying here, Blue.”

“I appreciate that, Regina, and I have not stood in your way, in fact, may I remind you, it was I that brokered peace between you and your uncle. Without me, this land would not be yours.”

Pressing her lips together, Regina stepped forward, closer to Blue, 

“You supported that treaty because you knew my uncle had no right to this land, and you knew how disastrous a war here would be, you did not do it to help me.”

Light and shadow played on Blue's face, her high necked dress, blue of course, reflecting the shifting sun playing amongst the leaves high above them. 

Regina was reminded of the day she'd met with her uncle, King Xavier. She hadn't seen the man in close to fifty years, and he had aged considerably. An old, frail man in his seventies. That was the man who wanted to invade the White Kingdom and unite the Enchanted Forest under his crown. 

Rumors had told her he had become a devout man, so she hadn't been surprised to see the Blue fairy at their meeting. 

Of course she had taken care to seek her out before then. Blue hadn't been too happy to see her, but she'd listened. 

Regina was glad for Blue's help, to be sure. The way her uncle's lips had curled at the sight of her, had remained her she was not well loved by these people, though they were her blood family. 

Her jaw clenched at the memory of the first words her uncle had said to her,

“It is a shame your father isn't here to see this meeting, he would have been proud.”

The not so subtle dig had set the scene for the rest of the discussion. 

But no matter. 

She didn't need Xavier to like her, she didn't need Blue to like her either. All she needed was for them to trust her word enough to sign the treaty she'd written. 

It was simple really, a return to the status quo, Regina would administer the lands in Xavier's name, as his subject, while acting as a neutral party between the White Crown and the Middle Kingdom. 

With her unique position of being connected to both families, she was particularly suited for the job. Not to mention, these were her ancestral lands.

Nonetheless, she would sign the treaty as his subject, not as Queen Dowager of the White kingdom, which meant he would lay claim to most of the gold the other kings and lords would pay for the fairy dust. 

Xavier had hummed and hawed, but he was a cautious man, especially in his old age. And the gold he could earn, for doing nothing at all, was not negligible. There was a reason he hadn't invaded the White Kingdom in all the years Snow had been gone. 

In the end, he'd signed the lands over to her, making sure to remark on their blood relation, and reminding her subtly of the current imbalance between the White army and the Middle Kingdom’s.  

So, the lands had been returned to her. 

It had been a monumental task, too, bringing them back to their original splendor. What with the lack of funds (she suspected the men who'd been put in charge by Xavier had taken more than their fair share of gold,) and the harsh winter, Regina had moved heaven and earth to repair what had been broken. 

Nonetheless, she had done it. She'd also managed to send several carts of wheat, which she hoped made it through the heavy snow, to the White Kingdom. 

The treaty did contain a non discriminatory trade clause, which in practice meant Xavier had last say in who Regina could trade with, but she presumed that what he was not made aware of, could not hurt him.

Blue had walked on, her back to Regina as she wandered deeper into the forest. Towards the fairy village, which Regina was most certainly not allowed into. Nor was she truly interested in visiting.

“You are right,” Blue told her, as Regina reached her with quick steps, the springy forest floor quiet under her feet, “A war here would be disastrous, especially now.”

“Especially now?” Regina asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Blue glanced at her sideways, 

“You must have heard, there are rumors everywhere.”

Regina had heard no rumors, she'd been locked up in her manor attempting to manage one of the most coveted lands in the Enchanted Forest. She nodded at Blue, who raised her eyebrows.

“Ogres, they say,” Blue explained, evidently not believing Regina’s assuredness.

Ogres? They had been banished behind walls of ice, in the deep glaciers, held there by fairy magic for thousands of years. Occasionally a few came through, but they had always been pushed back. Ogres hadn't been a real problem for centuries.

“A war among men would weaken us all, and if the mines were damaged…” Blue trailed off. 

“Yes,” Regina said, “it would spell catastrophe for all of us.”

Blue didn't reply, but slowed her pace, allowing Regina to walk next to her.

“You have done well, over this winter,” Blue said, “the lands have returned to production, it will be a bountiful spring and summer.”

Regina didn't allow the words to soften her, they were simply the truth.

“I need to see how the mines are doing,” she answered, “make an exception.”

“No,” Blue replied without pause, “but I will tell you they're productive, soon you'll have the dust you so desire.”

Regina stopped walking, and Blue turned to her, 

“You know how much we need fairy magic,” Regina said, her hand reached out and touched the bark of a tree, feeling its rough surface under her palm, “You cannot hold us hostage.”

Fairy dust was used for everything in the Enchanted Forest, from agriculture to transportation. Without it, the economies of the Forest would collapse. They had already gone one winter in its absence, and Regina knew, from letters she'd received from other lords and ladies, begging her to send some dust, that it had not been easy.

The little she had left had been used to encourage the land to grow the crops they needed, and to survive. Many hadn't had any supplies, and hadn't survived, she was sure.

Unfortunately, fairy dust, like all magic, was fickle, and would only grow and let itself be harvested in certain circumstances. Which only the fairies could cultivate. 

“I am not attempting to hold you hostage,” Blue bit back, “I am telling you, your majesty, that you will have the dust when it is ready.”

Regina bit her lower lip, “how many dwarves do you have?”

Blue relaxed, the question an expected one.

“Fifty, at the moment, but as you know, the hatching time is near, and we have nearly as many eggs.”

Fifty working dwarves and fifty eggs. From which would spring fifty novices, of which many would die. It didn't sound like a lot to Regina.

“Fifty?” She asked, “that is not nearly enough to mine all the dust we need,” panic began to settle in. They had survived one year, but fairy dust was crucial if they were to survive another. 

It wasn’t just her lands, her people, who would suffer, it was all the lands, including the White Kingdom. Where her son currently lived. 

Regina clenched her fist, feeling the bark break under her fingers. Henry rarely left her thoughts these days, but she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted, weakened. 

“We have them working night and day,” Blue said, reassuring her, “It will be enough.”

“Night and day?” Regina asked, “how many have you lost?”

Blue clenched her jaw, lips pressed together, “We know how to take care of them.”

The answer told Regina all she needed to know, she sighed. 

“Very well,” she said, turning to leave, “it had better be enough,” she whispered the threat, she needed Blue, couldn’t afford to lose her as an ally, fickle as she was. 

“There’s something else,” Blue called, as Regina had begun to walk away. 

“The King has asked me to tell you, if he discovers the dust from these mines is being used to fortify Snow’s army, he will not stand by, it is against the terms of your agreement.”

Regina’s eyebrows furrowed. It most certainly was not. 

“There was nothing of the sort in the treaty.”

“You promised a return to the status quo, Regina, that means no magic on the battlefield, you know that.”

Ah. She had forgotten. 

Probably because she’d completely ignored that old law when she’d been Queen, conquering land left and right with her dark magic. Land Snow had given back when she’d taken her throne. 

It was true, however, the ancient laws forbid any King or Queen the use of magic to fight against a human foe. 

“Of course,” she said, gritting her teeth, “it had never been her intention, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure,” Blue agreed. 

Regina felt eyes on her back the whole way home. 

Walking through the large halls, Regina felt at home. It had taken her aback, the first time she’d walked in. She had grown up here, yet it had been years since she’d come back. Half a century. Yet, she felt home. 

Those who had taken over the manor hadn’t bothered to change anything, in fact, they’d barely bothered to keep clean. The walls had been crumbling when she’d arrived. Now, however, the house had been restored to its former glory, and she made her way through the familiar halls, up to the family’s quarters. 

She had taken back her own room, the one she’d occupied as a girl. Though the memories hurt, she couldn’t bring herself to take her mother’s rooms, and she hadn’t even been able to step into her father’s, though they were now hers by right. 

Regina sat at her mahogany desk, it was well organized and clean, not so different from the one that had stood in the mayor’s office in Storybrooke. Only there was no telephone here, no printer, not even the fax machine. 

She thought of the land without magic often, how easy things had been there. To think, she had believed it to be the most horrible place in the universe. It was why she’d cursed a whole kingdom to it. Now, she missed it dearly. 

Her eyes fell on the picture on her desk, next to her feather pen and ink well, it looked out of place. Its plastic frame the only object of that material in the whole Enchanted Forest, she presumed. 

Emma and Henry smiled back at her from Storybrooke. Henry had been no more than thirteen when the picture had been taken, his teeth still slightly misaligned, his grin wide. Emma’s arms were around his shoulders, pulling him close. In the background, Granny scowled from the top of the steps leading to her diner. 

Regina blinked back tears. 

She missed them, both of them, dearly. 

Henry had sent her letters, updating her on his schooling, his progress in sword fighting and horse riding. He was excited, though the execution of Robert had put a damper on his spirit for a short while, this world was all new to him, and, as a young man, he wanted to explore it all. She wished she could be there, to watch him take it all in. 

It hadn’t been her idea, to come back to this place, that she had worked so hard to leave behind. She’d had her reasons, and she was sure Snow and Charming were regretting their decision by now. 

As angry as she was with both of them, she couldn’t let her family starve. That was what they were now, after all, her family. Brought together not by blood but by love. Sometimes, she was still surprised by how much she had learned to care for the young Snow White, the girl she’d tried so hard to kill. 

So, she had sent back grain, dried meats and salted vegetables. All things her predecessors had stored for the winter. She had kept only the bare necessities, what little she and her skeleton staff needed to survive. 

She hoped it had been enough. 

News traveled slowly in this realm, and she hadn’t heard from the White Throne in over a fortnight, just before the last snow had thawed. It was beginning to worry her, as much progress as she had made with Xavier, she was sure there were others who coveted the White Kingdom.

Regina studied the large map of the Enchanted Forest that her father had hung on the study wall. Its colors had faded over time, but the kingdoms and the borders stayed the same. 

The White Kingdom, the largest of them all, stood in the center, like an old fat dragon, sitting on its hoard of gold. It hadn’t always been like that, in ancient times, the kingdoms had been more evenly balanced, but over time, the white family had extended their reach, far into the middle kingdom on one side, and into the rose and southern kingdom on the other. 

Now that they were weak, without a standing army to speak of, the only thing that kept the Whites in power was tradition, and likely the inability of the other kings and queens to stop squabbling for one minute and ally themselves against Snow. 

Regina got up, tracing the edge of her own land, a strange one, to be sure, a land that belonged neither to the Middle Kingdom, nor to the White one. A land that, if conquered by the wrong actor, could spell disaster for the rest of the Enchanted Forest. 

Regina knew well enough of the ancient law against using magic in battle, or to fortify one's army, but who could stop anyone from doing so? Once the first spell was cast, there was no stopping the deluge of magic that would follow. 

She had managed to curtail that, as Queen, by taking small pieces of land, never enough to justify the others from attempting to stop her. Really, she’d just done it for the thrill of it. And because she’d wanted the fairy mines under her control. 

She thought back to her conversation with Snow, when she’d been given the order to come here, to take this land back. 

Regina had been surprised at Snow’s strength, the way she’d spoken to her, clearly and unambiguously. 

The young princess had grown, and had become a Queen. 

Truth be told, Regina had not believed Snow would have it in her to execute anyone. Yet, she’d seen it with her own eyes, Robert’s head falling off his body. It hadn’t bothered her, per say, she had seen and caused death too often for that to be the case, but it had surprised her. 

She chose to ignore the tightness in her chest, yes, she had cared for the man once, but that was long ago, and no longer mattered. 

Had Snow made the right decision? Killing Robert? Surely his son would remember the scene for a long time to come, yet, it had shown strength. Regina had often been told, by her mother and her husband, that, above all, a monarch should be strong. 

She had heard, in the halls of her manor, that the people of the White Kingdom had taken to calling Snow the Bloody Queen, owing to the blood that had covered her from head to toe after Robert’s death. 

Still, it wasn’t enough to be called a fearsome title, Snow needed to show a strong hand, to back her name up, to back the history of her throne. Otherwise, the vultures would begin to circle. 

If they hadn’t already.

Regina focused back on the map, Snow’s words that day echoing back in her mind, 

“We are surrounded by enemies, Regina,” her once-step daughter had said, “I need to know you’re not one of them.”

Of course she wasn’t, she had almost been offended at the thought. They were family. 

What Snow had said was not without basis, they were not the incoherent ramblings of a paranoid monarch, but well thought out considerations of someone who’d been raised to the title. 

Xavier, George, Rose, Ella, Abigail. 

All potential enemies, all Kings and Queens with ambitions to more power. 

Xavier, she had dealt with, more or less. 

In any case, as she had written to Snow, he was an old man, cautious and frail, no longer the young warrior he had once been. No longer a true threat. As long as he lived, and his son, a boy of eighteen, did not take the throne, the Middle Kingdom was a relative threat. 

The others, however, worried Regina more. George, with his landlocked kingdom, always looking for more power, more land, more magic. It didn’t help that his kingdom was infertile, built on rocky mountain outcrops. It also didn’t help that he despised Regina for her role in bringing his kingdom to its feet before the curse. 

She pulled her shoulders together at the memory, why had she stopped trade with the man? Because the Dark One had asked her to. Thanks to the two of them, thousands had starved. She pushed the thought away, it had been long ago. 

There were the others to worry about, too. 

Rose, she didn’t understand. She had talked to the older woman once before, at a ball organized by her husband. A proud woman, Regina remembered, and hard as nails. Leopold hadn’t liked her much. 

Regina knew her enemy much more intimately, Maleficent had done nothing but disparage Briar Rose. According to the dragon, the Queen was a statue, heartless as she was beautiful. Incapable of love, Rose filled her heart with ambitions of power and wealth.

These were all second hand stories, however, and Regina truly had no idea what to expect from the old Queen. Snow liked her well enough, she had even been friends, as a girl, with her daughter, Aurora. 

As Regina considered the situation, she wandered out into the hall. Mindlessly she made her way to the inner courtyard, the day was turning out warm and sunny, spelling out the beginning of spring. 

Outside, the birds chirped happily in the trees, the apple orchard had begun to bloom, and the sweet scent of flowers filled the air. Regina could think of little more beautiful than the small white and pink blossoms that adorned the crowns of her prized trees, except perhaps the red apples that appeared there in autumn. 

“Your Majesty?” A voice behind her made her turn, a young servant woman smiled and bowed her head. 

“Yes?” she asked, feeling ripped from her moment of peace. 

“Letters for you, Your Majesty,” the girl said, passing over a small stack of papers, “They arrived moments ago.”

All annoyance left her as she took the parcels and scanned them, two of them bore the symbol of the White Crown. Regina took a breath, finally relaxing, she sent the servant away with a wave of her hand.

Both letters were heavy, the paper thick and expensive, but one looked official, the family crest, a swan with its tongue lashing out angrily, embossed on one side. She opened that one first. 

The letter inside was heavy, of thick cardboard material, and Regina’s heart raced in her chest as she guessed at what it was. She was proven right when she opened the card, divided in two, and the words on it left her mouth dry. 

It read: 

Your Majesty Regina, 

You Are Cordially Invited to the Marriage of, 

Princess Emma of the White Kingdom, 

And 

Captain Killian Jones. 

On the Summer Solstice. 

Regina ignored the way the acid in her stomach seemed to rise and choke her. Instead, she focused on how they’d chosen to do away with mentioning Killian’s kingdom, possibly because it had long since disappeared, considering the man’s age. 

Sighing, she placed the card back in its envelope, and opened the second letter. It was from Snow. 

She wrote: 

Dearest Regina, 

I hope this letter finds you well. 

I believe you have received the invitation to Emma’s wedding, on the first day of summer. I do hope you’ll make it, we have missed you dearly, and your help over the winter has not gone unnoticed. 

The wedding will be a grand affair, just like in the olden days. We have invited every King and Queen of this land, it will all be great fun!

I am sure they will all be attending, it has been a long time since a royal wedding has been celebrated in such style. It is time for the White Crown to bring back certain traditions, is it not? 

I do miss you dearly and hope to see you soon, 

Yours, 

Her Majesty, Queen Snow White of the White Kingdom.

P.S: Do you remember my wedding? 

Regina sat down on a nearby bench, she scanned Snow’s letter again. The words were clear enough, though none of them expressed openly. 

Snow hoped to show the world her renowned strength, to show the other kingdoms the White Throne was still strong. It was just like her, to throw a wedding in order to do so. 

What did that post scriptum mean? Regina did not need to think long to understand it, Snow was reminding her of who she had been, what she had done, and to who she had become. Snow was asking her to stay loyal. 

Regina was sure, too, like Snow, that the other kings and queens would be in attendance. Like vultures, they’d want to find out how much longer their prey had to live.