Title: Slaves of War

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or its characters.

Summary: Prompted from Tumblr. Once Zelena's curse is broken, everyone goes back to the EF and the flying monkeys are restored to human form.

Note: I wrote this well before the finale, and as a reminder I only tumblr-watch anyway. This was built not on speculation, but instead how I would've liked it to go. ;)

Emma felt … numb, would be the best word.

It had been a long, aching battle. So many lives had been lost, beginning with Neal and ending with the sisters' death.

Henry, only freshly with his memories, only sat in his room, staring blankly at the wall. He remembered too much: his life before, his loneliness, his faith. He had a normal childhood to compare to what had been, and just when he was getting angry at Regina, she had died. It didn't seem fair. She wanted closure for her son much the same as she had gotten closure with Neal before he passed.

They were still dealing with the fall-out, the loss of Zelena and Regina's magic creating a chaos of broken spells everywhere. Only a few were left; the one that bordered Zelena's lair was perhaps the worst. Anyone that came close was burned by an acidic wash of dark magic. Emma was the only one that could pass through, but even with her Savior magic she could only enter with one companion.

Emma kicked over a broken stool, winding through the place the Wicked Witch had called home. She sighed, talking Walsh's offered hand as she passed the uneven stone. He had been a surprising help in the aftermath. A pawn himself, he was dealing with his own emotions but wanted to make up for the manipulation by helping Emma and Henry. She had told him it was unnecessary, but it didn't stop him.

"Through here," he murmured, guiding her down another stairwell.

She shivered as she stepped into another dark chamber, at the wrought iron cages that surrounded them. Something buzzed in the back of her mind, an eerie sort of awareness that she'd never felt before. "She kept you in cages?" she asked, disgust coursing through her.

He shrugged, a little pathetically. "Tamed flying things are often kept in cages," he stated with an ironic smile.

Emma looked away sharply, feeling leftover rage heat up in her again. It would be slow going, but Emma knew she could help the former slaves of the witch; freeing them from this prison was only the first step.

Walsh suddenly ran forward, slamming against one of the cages. He pulled the crowbar out of his jacket and pried the enclosure open with desperate force.

An exhausted young woman tumbled out, blinking up at him in a daze. "Oscar," she sighed, bringing a slim dark hand to caress his face.

"You're safe now," he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers.

Emma shifted her weight, feeling uncomfortable witnessing this private moment. She fingered the bracelet on her wrist, glancing down the cells without really looking.

"Here, open the rest," Walsh said, breaking her from her thoughts. He was still cradling the woman in his arms, her dark head buried in his chest. Emma took the tool with a sharp nod, walking down the hallway.

She snapped open the first she came by. The buzzing was back, warm and full-feeling in the back of her mind. She tried to shake the feeling away, nodding to the thin red-head who jumped from his imprisonment. The second freed a stocky man, the third a willowy brunette. Zelena's captives were varied and diverse, but all had the same blank, horrified expression. None were familiar, and none wished to say anything as they emerged.

But the fourth and last one called to something deep inside her, almost singing its way through her magic.

The figure was shroud in a dark hood, huddled on the far edge of the cage. Her fingers shook as she struggled with the crowbar, the rattling sound of metal on metal infinitely louder to her ears. Her chest tightened, tears stinging behind her eyes as it finally wrenched free.

She knew. She could feel it. But she couldn't believe.

She stepped forward cautiously, hesitance lingering around her. The numbness had dissipated, leaving her exposed like a raw nerve. Anticipation tempered her movements as reached out her hands, gingerly tugging down the hood. Slowly, it revealed brown curls, sharp cheekbones, strong jaw. Finally, finally she looked into his eyes, those startlingly beautiful eyes, eyes she had nearly forgotten. She choked out a hard sob, knees slamming against the ground as she trembled in disbelief.

Strong, calloused hands, reached to caress her face, so gentle despite their eagerness. "Are you real?" he asked hoarsely, tugging her chin upwards to meet his eyes again.

She nodded jerkily, slamming her lips into his in a moment of weakness she wouldn't have believed possible a moment ago. He caught her in his arms as she stumbled close. She pressed into him, arms clawing their way around him, desperate to feel him against her. His heart beat rapidly against her chest; she couldn't believe the relief in feeling those solid thumps. Eagerly, he slanted his mouth against hers, a wash of magic escaping them in a bright ray of light.

He pulled away first. "I dreamed of this," he murmured, caressing her hair and face in a way that said he craved the feeling.

She nodded, pressing her head against him. "I couldn't," she replied. With one hand, she tugged loose the knot on her bracelet, letting it fall to the bottom of the cage. "It was too hard to dream."

His lips quirked up along the edges, and he bumped her nose with his. "I think you broke the last curse, princess."

She shook her head, surrounding him in a tighter embrace. "No, I think we did, Graham."

He chuckled, holding her tighter.

Feet scrapped behind her, and she raised her head to meet Walsh's amused expression. A single brow was arched in question. "The right suitor this time, Savior?" he asked, clearly entertained.

She tried to frown, but could only smile, helping Graham to his feet. He slumped against her slightly, reminding her that he had a ways to go before he was healed. Just like her. "You would call it that," she said with a shake of her head. "Graham, this is the Wizard of Oz. Welcome to the weirdness that is my life."

"You're talking to a Huntsman, Emma," he reminded gently, his arms squeezing her waist in acknowledgement.

She couldn't bring herself to feel strangely about it. It was Graham. Graham was here.

Walsh only gave a smirk. "Oscar Walsh. And this," he said, gazing softly upon the woman in his arms. "Is Dorothy."

She sighed, leaning against Graham and inhaling deeply. She didn't want to think about the continuation of the story. She had had a year and a half without him; she wouldn't spend a minute more without him by her side.

"Henry?" he asked, whispered on her brow in a private question.

She let a wash of happiness drift over her, of finding someone who cared about her and her son in equal standing. "Needs our help, but we'll be fine."

She believed it. She believed in them. She had a whole, wide family now to deal with. But this little corner will be the most amazing part.

End.