A/N: Hello, readers! I hope you all enjoyed your Thanksgiving and ate plenty of turkey. I know it's been a little while since I last updated, but this chapter is an extra long one. A lot of good stuff happens and I hope everyone enjoys it.

For all the raging emotions consuming her, Regina would not be very surprised if Dr. Whale—Frankenstein, she corrected—called her up and recommended Archie on the spot. Once in a while she would suffer intense mood swings, but if she was being dreadfully honest, she had not been happy in a long time.

Those brief moments of content, stemming from the ruin of someone's day, were shreds of heaven tossed to her like a treat. But it wasn't enough. Every now and then, she would fail to catch that treat in her jaws. More often than not, Regina would fall. And when she fell to the bottom of that pitiful, lonely well, she fell hard.

Tonight was a perfect example of the shadow of despair cloaking her shoulders. It seemed to take all her efforts to conquer the pathway leading to her front door and slip the key inside the lock. She already knew it would be hopelessly empty inside without her son. Her son, taken away by that awful, snippy, no-good Emma Swan.

Emma was given a perfectly sweet happy ending with the son she had tossed away once upon a time and the loathsome parents who shipped her to Maine in a tree. How sweet. By sweet, she meant downright revolting. Enough to make her stick her finger down her throat and upchuck all the sour blackness that had pooled into her stomach.

Regina kicked off her black heels at the door, not caring where they landed. The soles of her feet ached as she wandered into the dining room without bothering to switch on any lights to guide her way. The darkness was her friend and an enemy to those useless, love-praising Charming's.

For a moment, she paused before the mirror hanging above the dusty china cabinet in the dining room, though it was too shadowy to see her reflection in the glass. That wretched Snow White and her rotten daughter had ruined everything she had.

Everything was gone—her son, her power in Storybrooke. She was lucky to have escaped with her beauty. The urge to smash that mirror into tiny, glittering shards made her fingers curl into hooks. She wanted to pretend that mirror was their delicate faces, her nails grinding into their beating hearts.

Instead, Regina whistled lowly to regain her composure and snatched up the glass pitcher of apple cider she kept on the china cabinet. For emergencies, mainly. Tonight, it was life or death. The amber liquid poured into the tumbler and she raised it to her crimson lips, craving its sweetness.

"I would have preferred tea."

The tumbler halted a mere inch from her mouth. Regina's muscles tensed, the fine hairs on the back of her neck rising as she registered the presence that escaped her notice before. How foolish of her. Slowly, she forced her body to relax and she wondered how he'd managed to intrude her sanctuary twice.

"Flimsy locks," he mocked, as though reading her mind.

Slowly, Regina set the tumbler of apple cider down on the china cabinet. Teeth gritting, she stared into the glass of the mirror, but could not make out any moving shadow within its reflection. He was invisible, yet she refused to turn around. She refused to play to his satisfaction.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" It was a harsh whisper, but she knew he heard it. Nothing ever surpassed Rumpelstiltskin. When no answer immediately came, she could not resist taking a jab at him, for old times' sake. "Already bored with your little mistress? Or did she finally wake up and realize how much of an insolent monster you truly are?"

Oh, yes. She could sense his rage now, brimming and crackling with electricity. His precious Snow White regained her former self and rushed into Charming's arms…not Rumpelstiltskin's. It made her want to laugh.

"It seems I should be the one making the accusations, Your Majesty," he hissed.

His voice was fairly close; hanging on his every syllable, she quickly placed him in the corner of the room, probably lounging in one of her fine mahogany dining chairs. If those disgusting feet of his were on her table, she'd have his head over her fireplace. Clutching the tumbler, she finally revolved, her eyes settling over the darker shadow at the edge of the dining table belonging to him. As if to ease her mind, he visibly leaned forward.

"Why so hesitant? Please, sit," he demanded, urging one of the dining chairs out with a kick of his foot. Regina's gaze flickered to the crooked chair once, but ignored his order. It had felt so deliciously good to defy his command the first time; now, that sense of power returned like a long-awaited drug.

"It seems your "pleases" have lost their punch," she retorted, smirking. In her mind, she pictured his eyes narrowing, the lines of anxiety creasing his skin and revealing his age, his knuckles tightening around that cane of his with a silent threat. He never enjoyed hearing the word 'no.'

The darkest shadow heightened as he stood from the table, his cane thudding against the floor as he approached her. Regina instinctively flattened her body against the china cabinet, but he stopped at the end of the dining table, a couple feet from where she stood. The rush of her awakened magic scorched her veins, ready for use. Why so hesitant?

"That may be…" He softly admitted, much to her content. However, she wasn't prepared for the abrupt flick of his wrist, a wave of magic enveloping her.

The glass tumbler reeled from her grip, shattering on the floor. Her feet launched into the air, her body colliding against the dining table. Pain shot through her ribs, but it was the least worry on her mind as his hands scrambled over her waist, forcing her to roll over to stare up at him. Before she could utter an obscenity at his rashness, his hand circled her throat, instantly cutting off her air supply and pinning her down to the table.

"Unfortunately for you, my power has returned strong as ever," he breathed heavily, his breath warming the lobe of her ear.

Lungs burning, Regina gasped for an ounce of oxygen as his fingers curled menacingly against the hollow of her throat, where her heart pounded hardest. Her nails raked across the skin of his hand, begging for release, only to have him squeeze tighter. Black spots danced in front of her eyes as his lips, so close to her face, lifted in a sneer.

"You dared to hurt Mary Margaret. You took away our unborn child. You lied about Belle's death, locked her away to be your personal pet mouse."

Against the pressure in her throat, the revelation made Regina's eyes boggle. Or perhaps it was the fierceness of his grip going to her head. All she could picture was that solemn, deteriorating girl in the basement of the hospital; a delicate flower withering to dust. He knew? But…no…

"Oh, yes. I know about Belle. You've lost your hidden ace and now…I'm the one holding all the cards. Give me one reason why I shouldn't rip that filthy black heart out of your chest and crush it in the palm of my hand. I dare you."

Regina's bare legs thrashed underneath his weight, unable to force him away. The only sound that fell from her lips was a pattern of guttural noises, illogical to human ears. Oh, God, everything was blurry and consciousness was a thin thread splintering apart. She could feel his free hand tracing her skin, down to her chest, pausing directly over that tender spot that carried her heart. She tried to cry out, but it was no use.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty. I didn't quite catch that plea," he taunted. Miraculously, his fingers loosened around her throat, enough for her to suck in a thick gale of air and voice her concerns. Her lungs seemed to spasm as oxygen came, her throat as sore as if someone forced a red-hot piece of iron down into her stomach.

"Go to hell," she rasped.

Clawing her nails into his skin, she used the rest of her energy to channel that sleeping bit of magic within her. Though it was weak, a ring of fire scorched his hand, blistering it upon contact. Growling in pain, his grip eased up on her throat and she shoved him backwards into the china cabinet.

Stumbling, he sent a pulse of tremendous power in her direction, but she dove to the floor. The mirror and the windows exploded, showering her body with fragments of tiny daggers. Regina suddenly wished the ground would open up and swallow her, anything to get away from Rumpelstiltskin's wrath.

With a snap of her wrist, a black cloud smothered her and she felt her body slip away from her dining room. Angrily, he lifted the pitcher of apple cider and flung it toward her, but it was too late. The cider splashed across the ground just as the cloud faded.

Regina was gone.

….

Regina tumbled from the cloud, landing painfully on her side. A flume of dust wrapped around her, choking her. God, it was still so difficult to breathe properly and her skin was so sore from where Rumpelstiltskin's fingers had grabbed onto her. No doubt there would be terrible brown bruises there tomorrow.

Lifting her head, she gazed around at her new surroundings. It was a winding tunnel, carved from the earth and covered with thick roots. She was in the heart of the mines. When she wished to burrow somewhere deep to escape Rumpelstiltskin's wrath, this wasn't exactly what she had in mind.

But it would have to do.

It was the last place they'd search for her. Even better, the tunnels ran underneath the entire of Storybrooke, even as far as the borders. If she could find the location of the borders, she could easily cross it and be safe from those that were trying to interfere. She would laugh if Rumpelstiltskin foolishly followed her across the border—Mr. Gold was so much easier to deal with.

As she rose to her feet, she winced. A jagged shard of glass was buried in her hip. Gritting her teeth, she yanked it out and the warmth of blood stained her clothing.

Every muscle in her body ached in protest, but that's what she got for transporting after 28 years of disuse. She half-expected one of her limbs to be severed off or one of her fingers to be mysteriously missing.

Using the grimy wall for support, Regina began to move one step at a time. Rage flushed her face and fueled her efforts. Those idiots thought they could best her. They thought they deserved to be happy. How wrong they were. They would all pay, each and every last one.

But first, she was taking back her child.

…..

Some things don't change, Snow mused wistfully as she fixed herself a soothing cup of coffee and perched on the window seat in her apartment, the same as Mary Margaret had done on most mornings. Emma would wake up and head to work at the station, Henry would be convinced to go to school and then sneak away from the bus…

If Charming hadn't been dozing on the couch, she might have even hurried out the door to Granny's Diner at 7:15 a.m.

Snow's smile weakened over the rim of her coffee as the sky darkened, the clouds as black as those before a deadly storm. A shiver slid along her spine as the wind's chill decreased, biting into her skin through the window. Something was coming.

"Charming? Emma!" Snow could not tear her eyes from the window. Charming grunted and rolled off the couch, slamming into the floor. He picked himself up and swayed toward her, still half-asleep. Emma rushed out of her room, fully dressed and tying her long blonde hair back in a ponytail.

The two of them faltered as their eyes noticed what had caught Snow's attention so raptly. The swirling black clouds bled over one another and parted in other places, revealing a strip of the milky sky. In the streets below, people emerged from their cars and shops to stare up at the abrupt shift in weather.

Snow blinked once and suddenly the clouds took on a whole new meaning. Somehow, the clouds appeared less like random storm clouds, instead forming into Regina's face. It was impossible, but it was there, hanging above their heads like a sign of death.

"Is that…?" Emma murmured, rubbing her eyes in case it was a trick of the light, an illusion. All Charming could do was clench his jaw and rest a sturdy hand of comfort on Snow's shoulder. A low hiss rose in the air and then Regina's voice haunted their ears.

You think you've won, but the war is not over yet. I want my son. I will claim my son. Any who dare to defy me or stand in my way will suffer a slow, painful death. Tonight, I will come for him. Tonight, you will lose.

As rapidly as the clouds swarmed, they were gone. There was no trace of Regina's face, as though it had been a mirage brought on by lack of sleep. Everyone's minds recanted Regina's threat, yet no one could speak a word. Snow clutched her mug of coffee, which was now trembling. She's coming…for Henry…

"Let her come," Emma boldly brushed it off, turning away from the window. She continued with her early morning routine like that last minute or so had never happened. "That woman never knows when to quit. She'll never get near Henry."

"Henry," Snow repeated dreamily. "Is he awake?" Snow glanced wonderingly at Charming and breathed a sigh of relief when Emma shook her head confidently. The last thing Snow wanted was for Henry to worry about the Queen. "Tell him…tell him he won't be going to school today."

Snow hastily sipped her coffee, only to find that it had cooled completely.

…..

"No dragons outside the window, no trolls under the bed, and no evil queens inside the closet," Charming announced as he tucked Henry into bed for the night.

The Queen's threat had left the entire town in shambles, some even claiming they wanted to leave. Charming, Snow, and Emma had spent a whole day keeping Henry in close sight, playing board games and having him help Snow cook in the kitchen. After a nice cup of cocoa and plenty of ravaging tales to fill his dreams, the kid's eyes were crossing. Still, he laughed at Charming's show of parental duties.

"Gramps, I'm ten years old. I'm not afraid of dragons or the Evil Queen," he boasted, glancing quickly to the wooden sword Charming had given him. It was meant to be used for practice, establishing him as a knight in training. Maybe one day they could return to the Enchanted Forest and Henry could slay a real dragon with a real sword.

Charming eased himself onto the edge of Henry's bed; Henry shifted his legs aside to make room.

"What about trolls? Nasty, smelly creatures," Charming told him, hooking his fingers into claws. Henry wasn't intimidated. In fact, it only served to fascinate him even more. Trolls simply did not exist in this world, unless you referred to the Internet kind. "Did I ever tell you about the time Snow and I bested a couple of trolls on the Troll Bridge?"

Henry shook his head, eyes widening with anticipation. He'd read about Snow and Charming's fated journey in his book, but it was another thing to hear it directly from the horse's mouth, so to speak. Sleep scurried away as he sat up in bed to listen.

"Well, it was during our first journey together. Snow had traded some of my family's jewels to a batch of foul trolls and so the two of us journeyed to the Troll Bridge to get them back. Truthfully, the only item I cared for was the emerald ring. It had belonged to my mother." Henry's eyes flashed with recognition.

"The one you gave Snow White," he pointed out. Charming nodded, but did not deter from the story.

"When we got there, there were no trolls to be seen. But you could smell them coming—it's so revolting, it could make you pass out from the stench," he exclaimed. Henry wrinkled his nose, but couldn't hide the elated grin sliding over his face as the picture painted itself in his head. "The massive beasts crawled over the sides of the bridge, surrounding us. There were easily five of them on my side. I tell you, we would have gotten those jewels back without violence, but they pegged me for a royal. Trolls aren't very fond of royals."

Henry scooted forward, submersed in the story. Despite having read it more than a few times, his excitement won out.

"And then what happened? You took them all on, right?" Charming held up a hand to calm him.

"Snow managed to escape them and headed into the forest, but the trolls flanked me on all sides. But I was not worried or afraid. No, I looked those nasty trolls in the eye as they closed in on me, I lifted my sword above my head, and—"

"That is not what happened and you know it," Snow's voice interrupted from behind him. Henry and Charming both looked to see her standing in the doorway, a soft condescending smile on her lips. Charming sheepishly grinned and shrugged down at Henry.

"Okay, maybe I'm over-exaggerating a little," he admitted. Snow raised an eyebrow and wandered into the room. Charming rose to meet her and looked almost taken aback as Snow met his eye.

"A little? Henry, I saved your grandfather from those trolls. If it weren't for me running back and wasting that fairy dust, he'd probably be hanging off the side of the bridge as their new decoration," she argued. Charming gave a half-smile, but did not object to Snow's claims. Henry sank back into bed as he sensed the story was over. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping right about now?"

"It was just one more story," he protested. Charming leaned down and kissed his forehead, escaping the room before Snow could blow any more cannonballs through his macho story-telling. Henry yawned and brought the blanket closer to his chin. "Besides, I couldn't fall asleep."

Snow switched off the lamp on his bedside table, casting the room into darkness. She made sure the covers were nestled comfortably around his body and pressed a kiss to his head, just as Charming had done moments before. Her hand rustled through his hair and he smiled as she hesitated next to his bed.

"Would you like me to stay here with you until you fall asleep?" Henry's eyes drifted closed and he nodded lazily. Snow propped herself on the edge of his bed, holding him in her embrace until he was teetering on the fringes of sleep. Minutes passed before the bed creaked and Snow's weight left the mattress. "Goodnight, Henry."

….

Regina had done it. She had crossed the border without harm. Perhaps it was because she was the one to cast the curse or the fact that she did not possess any false lives or memories, unlike the countless victims she'd swept from their land.

Either way, she knew the moment she stepped beyond Storybrooke's limits. She sensed the moment she penetrated that thick, invisible wall that separated their town from the outside world. It was like walking through water, but before the discomfort could settle in, she was beyond it and she felt fine. No loss of memory, no broken bones, no unexplainable cataclysmic events.

She was free. It's proof, she gleefully thought as she stared down at her hands. No ugly discoloration or illness plaguing her. No warts, spots, or other disfigurements. She smiled victoriously. I shall win.

Tonight was the night she'd retrieve Henry once more. She'd been practicing magic down here in the tunnels all day, miles away from anyone that ventured down into the mines. Strengthening her power, becoming familiar with her tricks….she was ready. She'd even healed most of her wounds from Rumpelstiltskin's attack.

Henry belonged to her; he was rightly her son before he was Emma's, really. The fact that Emma Swan had birthed him was irrelevant.

Bending down to the dim, dusty ground, Regina placed a hand flat against the cool earth and summoned that well of magic once more. Under her touch, the earth quivered and the spirals of roots slid along the walls, having been given a life all their own. An age-old trick, but one of her favorites. Bring him to me, she willed the vines, controlling them as she would any of her limbs.

They would be together again, soon.

Maybe when she was through taking Henry back, she would send the vines to seek out Rumpelstiltskin and his precious love and smother them in their sleep. She'd be doing Storybrooke a favor, after all.

….

It seemed like years before Snow gathered up the strength to close the door to Henry's bedroom, leaving it open just a crack for the milky hall light to pool in and comfort Henry as he slumbered.

With burdening unease, she descended the rickety stairs to where her husband resided. In the warmth of the living room, he sat in one of the old, peeling white chairs with a genuine sword in his lap. Rhythmically, he rubbed a rag across the blade, shining it.

For a long moment, she remained by the foot of the stairs, watching him as he worked. She missed that fearless valor etching his face and the way his blue eyes brightened when met with a challenge. Briefly, her eyes flickered to the blankets he'd set up on the couch, where he was intending to sleep.

"You know, it's been twenty-eight years since we've shared a bed. Are you sure the couch would be preferable?" Charming glanced up and smiled at her. Regarding the bunch of blankets, he shrugged.

"I don't think Emma is comfortable enough yet to accept the notion of us sleeping in the same bed and all that goes with it," he answered, trying hard to hide the color that was rising along his neck. Snow thought it was…charming.

"Why not? Mary Margaret and David were having an affair and Emma knew very well about that," she pointed out. Then again, Mary Margaret and David Nolan hadn't been her parents, just two people falling in love. It made her muse on the fact that she was practically the same age as her daughter, which was more than any mother could say.

"Yes, but Mary Margaret and David never…I mean they didn't go as far as…" Charming gestured blindly with his hand. She nodded, getting the message. Mary Margaret and David's relationship had been strictly…naïve. Pushing off the banister, Snow approached Charming and brushed a hand along the muscle of his shoulder blade.

"Henry's finally asleep," she announced as she sank into the chair opposite him and watched him eagerly.

Those hands of his always enchanted her—how they could somehow apply so much effort yet remain so gentle. It was one of the things she loved about him. Of course, the tender, golden smile didn't hurt, either. The one he was brandishing right now, bringing out the dimple in his right cheek.

"Are you positive? Because last time I put him to bed, I'm fairly certain he was only pretending to be asleep. You know how sneaky that kid can be," he teased, his ocean eyes proving to be a contestant in terms of shine. The sword looked rather dull in comparison.

Snow's eyelids drooped sleepily and a ghost of a smile played on her lips. The breaking of the curse and the unleashing of her true memories had taken its toll on her; she felt like she hadn't slept in years.

"Just like his mother," she whispered, her gaze inevitably sliding to Emma's closed bedroom door. Maybe it was the twenty-eight years she'd missed or the overwhelming surge of protectiveness inside her chest, but Snow had routinely peered in to check on her, too. She couldn't help it. The memories had brought a torrent of joy, ache, love, longing, and sadness all at once.

As if sensing her distress, Charming lowered the sword into his lap and laid his slightly sweaty palm over hers, squeezing for added comfort.

"It will be okay, Snow. Trust me. She's lucky to have you as her mother," he assured her with all the confidence in the whole of the Enchanted Forest. Patting her hand, he returned to the task of polishing the old sword. Meanwhile, her lips parted in mild disbelief.

"As lucky as to have you as her father," she reminded him.

The hurt reflected in his face before he could maintain the peaceful, heroic attitude he'd been varnishing relentlessly ever since awakening from being David Nolan. Deeply, he sighed, lines of anxiety creasing the skin around his eyes.

"I know. Part of me keeps replaying that moment over and over, of Emma accepting me as her father. You don't know how relieved I was to hear her say it, to hold her in my arms like I was being given a second chance."

Snow tilted her head inquisitively as she observed him. Every word resonated deep within her, every syllable mirroring the fears she'd secretly nurtured in the Enchanted Forest. What if Emma chose not to accept them as her parents? What if she pushed them away, resented them for shipping her in a wardrobe to Mane to escape the curse and save them?

From the time she'd "woken", all she could do was recount on the priceless twenty-eight years of Emma's life she had missed with the gut-wrenching sensation of having the rug pulled out from underneath her feet.

While Emma was growing up, enduring high school, finding love, dealing with a parentless life, Mary Margaret Blanchard had been situated in Storybrooke, Maine, teaching endless groups of children that never aged and heading home every night wondering what she was missing. And David Nolan had been married to some other woman, stuck in a coma, showing little signs of recovery. It wasn't fair, but life rarely was.

"And the other part of you?" Charming glanced up as if he had lost track of the conversation they were having. It was her turn to reach out and caress his arm as he shrugged.

"The other part of me is struggling to accept the fact that that twisted imp tricked you and now he's bound to be involved in our lives for more than I am comfortable with." Snow smiled sadly, but did not make any point of attesting to the fact that Rumpelstiltskin was inevitably bound to them through Emma, for better or worse.

A muscle twitched in Charming's jaw as he lifted the sword and dug the point of the blade into the cracks of the floorboards.

"Today I went down to that pawnshop to retrieve this sword, so that I could protect my family against Regina. Do you know how many times I thought about driving this blade through his heart in the span of those two minutes? Simply for what he did to you?"

Slowly, Snow reeled in her hand, causing Charming to jerk up at the loss of her touch. It was becoming difficult to sort out these demanding emotions now that her head was crowded with two lives. Though she would never voice it to Charming, she wondered if Mary Margaret had been the one to fall for Mr. Gold or if the forbidden attraction had grown its roots all those years ago by the river. Finally, she touched the golden teardrop that still decorated her neck.

"Obviously, you didn't," she whispered. Charming did not share her tack of optimism. Instead, his fingers curled around the hilt of the sword, forming a pale ladder.

"Why is that so obvious, Snow?" The answer was lost to her tongue—she did not know how to explain to Charming the extent of Rumpelstiltskin's power. She'd once witnessed him change that poor guard into a snail and crush him with a single stomp of his boot. His power and magic were as dangerous as they were seductive. Charming apparently read it in her face. "You don't think I'm capable of defeating a monster like him? Snow, I've slayed a dragon, I've fought slews of soldiers, I've bested the charms of a siren…for you."

She didn't think it'd be helpful to point out that slaying a dragon was in another category entirely from Rumpelstiltskin.

"No, I know you have. You have done more for the sake of true love than any man I have ever known," she said, gently tracing a hand along his face. "But, Charming, you are a shepherd turned prince…and he is the Dark One."

She shrugged in apology as his pride crumbled. Oh, she always felt her heart crack wide open whenever he wore those puppy eyes. Abruptly, he uplifted the sword from the floorboards.

"I came this close," he insisted, holding his thumb and forefinger close together with barely an inch between them. "If you invite him for dinner, there shall be one empty seat at the table. You can count on me ordering out Chinese."

"Not if it isn't Thursday," she remarked, her usual warm persona resurfacing. Even Charming had to quirk a smile from that one.

It was a good thing she didn't have any current plans for a family dinner—she didn't know how well Charming or Rumpelstiltskin would behave if they were sitting across the table from each other. Snow would end up being the telephone between them. Snow, tell the imp to pass the butter. Snow, tell that foolish shepherd to stop hogging the salt.

It would be lovely.

The scrape of Charming's chair forced Snow back to the present. He experimentally swung his sword in the manner of a baseball bat, the soft glow of the lamps gleaming along the blade. If he broke something, he would just have to trade the sword for a broom and clean it himself.

"No worries, Snow. Regina won't get anywhere near my family. I'll protect all of you, no matter what," he vowed, resting the sword on the table. Snow's green eyes flickered to Emma's door again.

"I worry most about Henry. So does Emma. You know Regina will most likely make good on her word to get her son back," Snow pointed out, though it burned her tongue to admit that Henry was a rightful son in the Queen's eyes. Charming's expression grew grave, until he was nothing but downright serious.

"Snow, Henry's not her son. He'll be safe. I'll keep him safe, if it is the last thing I do. I promise." Kneeling before her, he gently caught her hands in his and kissed the crown of her soft, dark head. For a moment, they lounged peacefully in each other's presence, soaking up the comfort and security between them.

And that was when the screaming started.

Instantly, Charming shot to full height and spun toward the direction of the scream, spiraling its way down the stairs. Snow jumped up from her chair, knocking it over. Emma's door burst open and she appeared, alarmed and alert, sporting a pistol.

"Please tell me you two are watching horror movies," she gasped, waving the gun in each corner of the room. But the truth settled heavily among them, their attention snapping to the staircase as another set of cries broke the silence.

"It's Henry," Snow murmured. Before they even registered the act of moving, the three of them were halfway up the stairs, hurrying as fast as their legs would carry them to Henry's bedroom. Snow only sent up a prayer that they were not already too late.

…

It was quiet in Henry's bedroom, yet he could not seem to fall asleep. Tossing and turning, eyelids squeezed shut, the blankets bunched up around his neck. The clock on the bedside table would not stop ticking. The ceiling fan lazily circulated, the blades casting shadows that matched its pattern of movement.

No matter what, sleep would not come. He thought it might be because of the stories Prince Charming told him, which even now resurrected inside his head with notions of slaying fierce dragons, defeating evil kings and queens, and rescuing princesses from doom.

There was a haunting creak, sending shivers along Henry's nerves and wiping away all the elation from those adventurous stories. Jolting up in bed and wide awake, he looked across the room to his door, now slightly ajar.

Maybe it was Snow or Charming or Emma checking up on him to make sure he was sleeping. Or did Charming sneak up here to tell him another tale? But then why didn't he stick his head inside or open the door wider?

"Snow?" Henry chirped, his heart starting to pound. He couldn't fight the tremor that had overwhelmed him. There was no answer from the doorway and beyond it were the cloaked shadows of the hall, penetrated here and there by the dim hall light. His fingers curled on the mattress, his mouth twisting into an uncertain pout.

Of course it would be Snow or Charming or Emma. Who else could it possibly be? The Queen?

But Henry was a victim to the seed of doubt planting in his mind. Something wasn't right here.

A thin breeze skittered across the skin, its breath icy as death itself and making him shiver involuntarily. That was odd. How long had the window been open? Had he fallen asleep after all, allowing Snow or Emma to creep in and open it? No, he was sure he'd notice the cold.

Tossing the covers back, he slid out of bed and braced the chill of the night air as he approached the window, intent on closing it. His hands banged on it, but it refused to budge. Sucking in his breath, he forced more of his weight on it. An inch or two at a time it lowered, sticking every now and then. With a stroke of determination, Henry used all his strength on the window, his knee propped up on the windowsill to gain leverage.

It happened so fast that Henry could barely react.

As the window lowered another inch or so, something dark and slimy latched onto Henry's wrist, clinging like a leech. It circled and tightened until it nearly cut off his circulation. Gasping, Henry was distracted from the window and pried at the strenuous strand on his arm, similar to a thick, dewy black vine. With a life of its own, it began pulling him toward the open window.

The Queen, Henry automatically knew. This was her magic. She was making her move, taking him back.

Frantically, he dug his heels into the floorboards as the window came closer, his free hand scrambling for something to grab onto, but it was no use. The vine curled around endlessly, tugging him against the windowsill in hopes to drag him through it. His fingers gripped the glass of the window, his teeth gritting as he struggled against it.

It must have been a miracle, but the window slipped from underneath his hold. It slammed down, slicing the crawling vine in half. The vine seemed to give a high-pitched shriek as it loosened around his wrist, crumbling and decaying into old dust. The strain of the root left crude red scars on his arm and it tingled as the feeling came back.

Breathing harshly in and out, Henry backed away from the window. The worst was over…right? The Queen would retreat and know she'd been defeated and that he wasn't going anywhere with her…

As if to prove him wrong, the air horribly thickened and crackled with the electricity of magic. A thresh of ebony roots crashed through the window, shattering it. Shards of glass rained down on him, glittering on the floor. The roots spilled over the windowsill, slithering along the walls and floorboards, slippery as serpents and just as swift.

Turning, Henry dashed for the bedroom door, but the vines—and the Evil Queen controlling them via her magic—were too quick. Seizing his ankles, Henry tumbled headfirst to the hard floor, his elbows throbbing from the impact. Purposefully, the roots surrounded him, cradling him, wrapping around his legs like a writhing anaconda.

Henry opened his mouth and screamed while he still had the chance.

"Emma!"

….

Snow raced alongside Emma up the stairs, their feet thundering as violently as a herd of elephants. All that mattered was getting to Henry. The closer she came to him, the more she realized he was calling out for Emma, his voice desperate and raw. Unbeknownst to her, a wicked black root had crept along Henry's skin, toward his mouth to silence his cries for help.

Charming reached the upper hall first, but never made it to Henry's room. Halfway there, he tripped and sprawled across the floor on his stomach. Right behind him, Snow instinctively skidded on her heels, grinding to a halt. Emma's shoulder collided into her back, sending a burning pain along her shoulder blade.

"What's the hold-up?" Emma peered around Snow's body to where Charming lay on the carpet. Slowly he regained his composure and stood, brushing himself off. Suddenly, Emma grew tense and she pointed the gun to the floor at Charming's feet. "What the hell is that?"

Snow followed her gaze, squinting at the shadowy floor in question. Charming did the same and the two of them noticed it simultaneously. There was just enough dim light to see what Emma was talking about. Thick tendrils covered the carpet, bulging unnaturally around their feet. The blood in Snow's veins stopped cold as her eyes swam from the vines outside Henry's door to the broken hall window, the vines invading across the windowsill.

"This is her magic," Snow hissed, taking a step back from the vines unless they chose to capture her by the ankles. She remembered the Queen's ability to view others through the glass of a mirror. Was she watching now, waiting to strike? "I've seen it before. She controls vines and roots, oftentimes to capture the thing that evades her."

Snow closed her eyes, wishing this were a deadly dream. But Emma's hand clamped down on her shoulder, jolting her back to their reality.

"You've seen this? Where?" The unforgiving memories swarmed her brain, showing her images that she had stuffed into a drawer long ago. Stuffed tightly away with other cold, unwanted memories—the death of her father, Regina's blinding hatred, the suffering she had endured because of a mistake she'd made at age twelve.

The images unfolded one by one in perfect clarity; images of a woman in a royal, dark cloak in the castle grounds, manipulating the vines of a tree until it trapped an innocent white dove, smothering and choking it until its pure, snowy wings ceased flapping. She had been so young; she hadn't understood what it meant. Moreover, she hadn't wanted to. Gods, her voice still whispered now, those unforgiving ebony eyes seeking her out. Snow…Snow, come join me. Perhaps I can teach you a thing or two…

"From her mother," Snow choked out almost inaudibly. Charming's eyes grew wide as his toe nudged the snaking vines.

"Henry," he gasped, charging through the door like a soldier expecting death in battle. Emma quickly followed suit, holding her gun directly in front of her, prepared to fight for her son yet again. Snow's legs weighed as heavily as stone, taking a massive effort to draw one step toward Henry's bedroom door.

All she could envision, as her feet finally conquered the threshold, was that tiny white dove struggling in the merciless iron grasp of the black, twisting vines, even as it took its last breath.

…

Henry heard his bedroom door slam open and rebound against the wall, though he could not shift his head to see who it was. The vines seemed to multiply in the darkness, slipping underneath his body and restraining his limbs to form a cradle that would carry him to the Queen.

As the footsteps thundered into the room, he tried to call out—a futile feat since one thick black branch had trailed across his lips to stifle his screams. He had tried biting through it, but it only made a sticky, sweet sap spill into his mouth. It left a disgusting taste on the roof of his mouth.

"Henry!"

That was Emma! She would know how to rescue him; she was the savior, after all. Gunfire exploded through the room as a few bullets struck the vines crawling into the window. A few splintered in pieces, but was soon replaced with others just as fast and strong.

Rolling his eyes back, Henry could blurrily see Emma standing over him, gun in hand. His heart raced as a vine latched onto the weapon and whipped it from Emma's hand just as another one launched into her stomach. It flung her body across the room. Inside he was screaming, the noise muffled by the barrier across his lips. Emma!

Gritting his teeth, he forcibly wiggled among the vines, wrestling for freedom for the sole reason of Emma's safety, as if she were the victim in Regina's deadly fly trap. Snow knelt down beside him and tugged at the vines until her cheeks flushed pink. Her nails scraped along the strands, but they were impervious to her efforts.

"The sword," she demanded over her shoulder.

Charming's heavy boots pounded against the floorboards as he raced out of the room. Now Emma was kneeling on the other side of him, switching open a blade to hack the vines away. Every time she cut through one, another spawned in its place. As the Queen's magic lured him toward the window, Henry's eyes pleaded up at them. Emma, hurry! You can't let her win. You can't let her take me!

"Watch out," Charming's voice boomed overhead like a miraculous message from the heavens. Snow and Emma jumped up, allowing him to draw close to Henry. The prince rested a hand on Henry's head. "You'll be alright, kid. You're not going anywhere."

Carefully and slowly, Charming managed to slide the sword underneath the vines holding Henry, the blade raking across Henry's clothing until it tore. The black roots swarmed over it as though it were another of Henry's limbs. With one massive upward arc, Charming's sword sliced the vines all at once, shooting up into the air. The remains crumbled just as the first one had. The shrieking, writhing things disappeared from the window and the apartment grew eerily still.

It was over, the battle won.

Rasping for air, Henry stumbled backwards straight into Snow's arms. She held him tight against her chest, mostly for her own comfort, her fingers ruffling through his hair.

"I hate magic," Emma sighed morosely. She regained her balance, brow furrowed as she stared at the broken window. Only Charming seemed satisfied as he gripped that sword.

"You said he would be safe," Snow murmured, those green eyes frozen gems centered on Charming. Henry's body was like Jell-O, his muscles aching from the pressure of the vines.

"Henry is safe," Charming said, his fist tightening around the sword's hilt. "I cut him free, didn't I? I doubt she'll be stupid enough to return tonight." Snow sank her head on Henry's, rocking him back and forth in her embrace. He could only flick his eyes from Emma to Charming, words lost on his tongue.

"And what about the next night? Or the night after that?" It was as though Snow's worrying flipped a switch, inspiring Emma to move again. Her hardened eyes scanned the bedroom and she bent to retrieve her gun.

"We'll be ready for her. For starters, I recommend sleeping shifts tonight," she proposed, her eyes softening as they fell on Henry. Snow's lips parted and her eyebrows rose to her hairline.

"That's our plan? Wait until Regina makes another move?" Charming averted his gaze, refusing to meet her full-force. Emma's grew noticeably defiant. Her lips flattened until they were invisible against her pale skin.

"It's the best way to protect Henry right now. Regina's hiding somewhere in Storybrooke, out of our reach. Do you have any better suggestions?" Emma crossed her arms, awaiting an argument.

"Emma, please," Charming softly chided, but she was too focused on watching Snow debate with an answer to acknowledge his words. It was amazing how much of Snow's stubbornness Emma had obtained at birth. Snow fell silent, the pattern of thoughts inside her head known only to her. Emma dipped her head slightly and helped Henry up.

"I'll take the first shift. There's no way I'm getting back to sleep," Emma announced, accepting the sword from Charming.

Emma escorted Henry downstairs, where he would most likely crash on the couch for the rest of the night. It was a spot where they could each watch over him in turn. Charming extended his palm to Snow, smiling reassuringly. Forcing her own tight-lipped smile, Snow laid her hand in his and leaped up into the security of his arms.

Perhaps she was the only one willing to admit it, but it was inevitable that the Queen would strike again. The seed in Snow's mind bloomed into a full-grown flower as Charming ushered her from the icy bedroom, the gales of wind licking at their heels.

It was risky; it was dangerous; it was something that Snow wasn't sure she could share with Charming or Emma. At least not yet. But it was there, refusing to wither.

Snow would do anything to protect her family.

…

When Snow made up her mind, it was usually impossible to change. It was one of the qualities Emma had inherited from her, which would no doubt drive Charming up the wall at some point or another. Stubborn, strong-willed, willing to fight for those she cared for—Emma was more like her mother than she understood.

Likewise, it took a lot to rattle Snow and dig under her skin.

The memory of the night before made Snow's knees weak and her stomach plummet from the altitude of the world's tallest rollercoaster. All of them wanted to protect Henry from the Queen, but it was proving to be a daunting challenge. What if Regina attacked again, hurting one of them in the process to get to Henry?

Emma and Charming vowed to protect Henry on their own, with swords and guns. But Snow wasn't entirely certain that it would be enough to stop the Queen. Perhaps the only way to gain the upper hand was to beat her at her own game.

It was precisely why, at eight in the morning, her feet carried her straight to the pawnshop and the one person that could possibly help her.

Tugging open the door, Snow swept inside and scanned the front section of the shop. There was no sign of him, but she could sense his presence, as formidable as ever now that the curse had been broken. As she swallowed her impatience, she wandered toward the familiar glass baby mobile and studied it with a sharp pang of resonance.

The last time this mobile had been in her possession, it was hanging above Emma's white crib in their castle and the child in question was still being carried inside her, ready to be birthed into the world. Their world, the Enchanted Forest; not this one. It filled her with such tender ache that she could hardly breathe.

Hypnotically, her finger extended out to brush one of the unicorns. Closing her eyes peacefully, she was convinced she could smell the lilacs that decorated the baby's room and picture that last day, with the setting sun cascading over the glass mobile, making it sparkle as though encrusted in diamonds and Emma's demanding kick inside her belly…

"Come to take it back?"

Jumping away from the display case, Snow whirled to meet the rich, searing eyes she'd drowned in more than once. He lingered on the threshold between the front of the shop and the back, watching her intently. Her cheeks reddened at being caught off guard, though it brought a slight smirk to his lips. He always did enjoy sneaking up on others. According to the gleeful being in the Enchanted Forest, it was solely to make an entrance.

"Excuse me?" Snow sounded breathy and confused, even to her ears.

With his cane thudding on the floorboards, keeping in time with the beat of her heart, he swiftly crossed to her side. She noticed he made sure to keep a good few feet of distance, stopping at the very end of the display case.

"The mobile," he clarified, spreading a palm in its direction. The unicorns swayed in a light breeze and shook on their threads, as if shaking fearfully in Rumpelstiltskin's imposing presence. "You always did intend it for…Emma."

Her—no, their daughter's name drawled from his lips, sadly and longingly. He must have used magic to mend the injury sustained from Emma's punch. If magic could heal unspeakable wounds—broken noses, severed limbs, deep and fatal lacerations—what else could it do?

"No, I'm not here for that," she admitted, clasping her hands together before her. The nerves in her body hummed with the purpose of which she had come to accept. "It's about Henry. Last night, the Queen used magic to try to take him from us."

"And you're here because you wish for me to protect him," he filled in the blanks of his own accord. With all the gracefulness of the magical being she once knew, he stalked around her body, his eyes gleaming darkly with anticipation.

All magic comes with a price, the old warning whispered across her mind. But did all magic necessarily have to be left for evil, dangerous means? What if it was intended for protecting the ones you loved? If black magic existed, the type of unpredictable magic the Queen harnessed, then was there such a thing as white magic?

"No," Snow firmly declined, making him pause in step. She turned to hold his gaze boldly, which scrolled over her with unmasked suspicion. "I do not want to rely on someone else to protect my grandson. I must do something for him. I want to be able to protect him myself, to protect him from the Queen."

Exasperated, he released a deep, stubborn sigh. Obviously, this was not the reaction he'd been striving for. But Snow did not want to leave Henry's fate in the balance, hoping and waiting for some stroke of luck when the Queen struck again. And she would strike again—it was only a matter of time.

"Then what do you propose I do? What is it you really want?"

Snow slowly breathed in, breathed out. She knew the consequences of the decision that weighed heavily on her shoulders. On the heels of that thought, she knew she would be willing to sacrifice anything to keep her family safe. Once her mind was made up, there was no changing it.

So, it was with great determination and grave seriousness that Snow's emerald eyes—pure green as a sun-kissed field—locked with Rumpelstiltskin's earth-brown ones and she solemnly recited the words that had plagued her mind all throughout the restless night.

"I want you to teach me how to do magic."

….

I must thank all those that have read and reviewed recently—I appreciate all the support. Here's to DragonRose4, MissiB, Rainbowburst, BlooperLover, and thedoctorsgirl42. Thank you all for the awesome comments and interest in my story. Are you ready for a new episode tonight? (-;