Chapter Text
"You never told me how you got that scar, you know," Henry said as he eased down onto an overturned tree and watched his mother add a bundle of leafy greens to the pot bubbling at the center of their campsite. Emma turned to him, a look of contemplation across her slightly gaunt face.
"You sure?"
"Positive." As she thought it over she realized that Henry was right.
"I'm surprised you never asked," she said nonchalantly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Emma chuckled.
"Well kid, you're...you. If there's a question to be asked, you'll ask it." At her son's immediate glare she lifted her hands in appeasement. "Not that it's a bad thing," she soothed, "There's no such thing as a silly question, right? Inquisitive minds and what not." Henry grunted.
"Okay, I'm asking now. How'd you get it?" Emma lightly grazed a finger over the decade old scar, which ran jagged from her left earlobe on down along her jaw before finally stopping at the center of her chin.
"There's not much of a story to tell. I got mouthy with a dark knight, and he in turn got handsy with his sword," she replied with a shrug, knowing full well that Henry would want more details. She hadn't really wanted to talk about it, embarrassed at her younger self more than anything else.
"What! A dark knight? What did you say to him? Were you in the Dark Kingdom? Did you see the Queen?" Suddenly, the underbrush at the edge of their tiny clearing began to rustle.
"Whoa Henry," came Neal's voice, though his body had yet to be seen. "Give your ma a chance to answer, and then maybe help me outta these vines."
"Last time I checked you had a sword, Neal, and a knife," Emma huffed as she shooed Henry out of the way and began whacking at vegetation with her own weapon.
"My hands are full. I got berries."
"Not the green ones?" asked Henry dubiously.
"Of course not. I mess up one time-"
"Yea well your one mess up had us all messing up for the better part of two days," Emma retorted. Both Henry and Neal snickered at the memory, and even Emma found herself unable to hold back a smile, though her gut had been hit hardest in the whole debacle. Her knowledge of the forest was well rounded, but when Neal had wandered back into camp one night several weeks ago with a load of strange looking berries, she had been stumped.
"Don't worry," he had said, popping one into his mouth. "I used to eat them all the time." He had been mistaken, of course.
"All the time? What're they called?"
"Don't know, but they're really good. Here." And dammit, they had been good.
With one last swift chop from her sword, Emma was finally able to pull Neal out into the open. He had folded up the bottom of his tunic into a makeshift tote in order to carry the berries, and some spilled out as he stumbled forward. Emma picked one up off the ground and examined it.
"These are just blueberries, thank gods," she finally said.
"Like I said, not the ones from before." scowled Neal. "And nobody forced you to eat them, anyhow," he added.
"But I did!"
"Oh, we know," said Henry slyly, and he and Neal snickered for a second time.
"I hate you two," grumbled Emma as heat spread across her cheeks.
"No you don't," snorted Henry, and of course he was right. How could she ever?
"Open my bag up will ya Henry," said Neal. The boy did as he was told, and then promptly closed the bag back after Neal had dumped the blueberries inside. "We'll have them after supper, which smells delicious by the way. I'm starving."
"It should be ready in a little bit," said Emma while checking the pot one last time. Her cooking would dazzle no one's taste buds, but it wouldn't kill you, and that was important if you asked her.
"Finish the story, ma!" Henry blurted, suddenly remembering what had gotten him all worked up in the first place. All three of them moved to sit near the fire. It was mid-summer, and while the days were definitely warm, the nights tended to be on the cool side.
"That was the story, kid. Basically." Henry sighed.
"Okay then, one question at a time. First question: what did you say to make him so angry?" Emma flicked at a beetle that had landed on her shoulder.
"I insulted his horse," she answered plainly. Henry's features briefly scrunched up in confusion before understanding dawned.
"Oh right, because horses are considered important in the Dark Kingdom."
"More like they're worshiped in the Dark Kingdom," muttered Neal, shooting Vee a very neutral glance. For her part the mare simply continued to roam the outskirts of the camp, nibbling here and there at patches of green. Emma rolled her eyes.
"If you'd just relax around her then everything would be okay. She can sense your tension." Mother and son shared a knowing smirk, however. They both knew that Vee did indeed dislike Neal for some reason, though they always tried to disavow him of the notion since he seemed genuinely upset over the fact. A grown man upset because a horse didn't like him.
Henry flailed his arms.
"Let's not get off track. I still have more questions, like question number two: were you in the Dark Kingdom at the time?" Emma shook her head.
"No, I was in Midas' Kingdom. The dark knights were there to capture a fugitive."
"Like you guys do?" asked Henry, motioning towards his mother and Neal.
"Sorta, but there wasn't a bounty on the guy's head. The dark knights got the order directly from the Queen. The guy was wanted for treason."
"Was it because of Queen Snow? Was he helping her?" Emma's breath hitched at the mention of the name, but she remained composed.
"Don't know, but I don't think so. When they arrested people for aiding...her they usually announced the misdeed out loud so that everyone within a thousand paces knew exactly what the crime was. When they grabbed this fellow up all they announced was treason." The man's scruffy face, consumed with horror as he struggled against the dark knights, would forever be embedded in her memory.
"Please, strike me down where I stand!" he had cried. "Kill me here and now!" The plea elicited booming laughter from the knights.
"Do you think you're the first to beg for death, peasant?" replied one of the masked figures. "You will stand before the Queen for your crime, and then she will truly give you reason to beg." At those words the prisoner began to struggle even harder, stirring up a cloud of dust in the process. Eventually the knights lost pleasure in watching him panic and promptly struck him in the back of the head with the pommel of a sword. He had fallen to the ground in a crumpled heap.
"So you didn't see the Evil Queen then?" Henry's question snapped her back into the present. She noted the disappointment that tinged his voice.
"Sorry kid, no Queen that day. She doesn't usually go around arresting people. Besides, I think I've already told you that I've never seen her." This was a lie. Of course she had seen her. It had been years ago, but no one ever forgot that face, or the terror its expressions elicited. Henry eyed her.
"Neal's seen her. How haven't you?" Yes, inquisitive minds and what not indeed.
"Neal's a man of the world. He's been places you've never even heard of." She scooted closer to the fire, using rags to remove the pot from the flames. "Me? I'm a woman of a sliver of a forest. I keep to my self and stay out of the way. Grab the bowls, please." Henry jumped up and retrieved three wooden bowls, handing them to his mother before he sat back down. "Anyway," she continued, ladling two helpings of stew into each bowl, "most people try to avoid the Evil Queen if possible." She passed Henry a warm bowl and then Neal.
"Yea, but she's the most powerful sorceress in the realm. Aren't you curious?" He didn't know that once you reached a certain age you no longer had to be curious about the person whose dark specter had hovered over you your entire life. Emma smiled casually.
"Can't say that I am."
She was glad that Henry didn't have her superpower.
They were silent as they ate, all apparently lost in thought. Emma raised her bowl to her lips every now and then, but each time all she ingested was a small sip of broth. Her appetite still hadn't returned. At first it hadn't bothered her. Lack of appetite was to be expected. She was grieving, her emotions twisting and churning, which in turn twisted and churned her stomach. But that had been nearly a fortnight ago, and now it was starting to show, her breeches hanging looser and her cheeks slowly growing more and more hollow by the day. Her body worked fast at devouring itself. She worried that if it went on for much longer those who saw her would mistake her for an afflicted. All of them, even little Henry, had seen what a frenzied mob of healthy subjects was capable of if they suspected that anyone remotely sick was in their midst. With a grimace, she turned up the bowl and then chugged down half of her stew. It had to be done.
"If I'm gonna defeat her the more I know about her the better," Henry said, breaking the silence. It took a moment for it to register that he was continuing the previous conversation. Emma and Neal nodded in agreement. They couldn't deny the logic, even if Henry's plan was vague and far fetched.
"But like you said, kid, she's the most powerful sorceress in the land. Defeating her won't be easy. People have been trying forever," responded Neal. He apprehensively glanced at Emma, whose eyes were glued to the twinkling sky.
"I know, I know, but you guys are already teaching me how to use a sword, so once I'm big enough I'll be ready!" You'll never be big enough, thought Emma. "And yea," Henry continued, "she might be insanely powerful and everything, but she still wasn't able to defeat Queen Snow." Something tightened in Emma's chest at the mention of the other Queen, and she snapped her eyes shut. She did this to steady herself. Not to fight back tears. The tears had already been shed, and in their place now resided bitterness. She had wanted it to be anger instead, hot and determined rage that she could wield like a knife. She knew what to do with anger. But thirty years worth of bitterness suddenly fizzing to the surface? What the hell was she supposed to do with that? Especially when she was bitter about nearly everything. She realized, however, that even if she had been angry there still would not have been a satisfying target for said furor. The Evil Queen had not been responsible for the ultimate demise of Queen Snow and Kind David as it were.
Sensing Emma's unease, Neal decided to change the subject.
"Hey kid, how's your writing coming?" he asked. Henry perked up. A few months ago Emma had finally gotten around to teaching him how to read and write, skills rarely gained in the Enchanted Forest, because there was simply no need. The majority made their living with their hands, not with their noses stuffed in books. This included Emma, but she had learned because it was one, if not the only important subject a young princess could be taught while hiding away her childhood in a rundown inn. Granny might not have been able to teach her proper dining etiquette, or how to curtsy, but she had taught her how to keep the ledger, and that was something.
"You wanna look!" Henry buzzed as he ran to his pack and pulled out a small leather journal, which he then ceremoniously presented to Neal. "I know it's dark, but if we sit close enough to the fire we should be able to see." His latest work, the story of a boy on a quest to slay a dragon, was nearly finished.
"It's late, Henry," Emma said, finally done brooding. For then at least. "You need to get some rest."
"But it's not that late, and you haven't even read the story," Henry whined.
"How about I read it out loud once you're tucked in, kid? Like a bedtime story," Neal offered. "That way we can all hear it."
"Fine I guess," Henry grumbled as he unrolled his blanket and settled down in a grassy spot near Neal. "Start at the part just after the village is hit by a sleeping curse. I think that's the last part I showed you guys." Neal nodded and flipped through the stiff pages until he found it, smiling at the big, unwieldy letters of Henry's handwriting. He cleared his throat and began.
With his belly full and a day in the saddle behind him, Henry was beyond tired. But stubborn as always, he fought back sleep until Neal had finally reached a blank page.
"That was really good, kid" said Emma softly.
"Thanks," said Henry sheepishly. "But wait 'til tomorrow night. The next chapter is gonna be even better."
"I bet," said Neal as he stood and stretched. "I'll be right back. Nature's calling." Emma rolled her eyes playfully and then turned to Henry.
"You'd better go too." Henry pushed aside the embarrassment of having his mother acknowledge his private bodily functions and followed silently after Neal, certain that he would be even more embarrassed if he peed himself in the middle of the night. Emma watched him go as she strode to Neal's bag and scooped out a handful of blueberries. "Here girl," she cooed to Vee, who had seemed to be listening to Henry's story as well. Emma held the fruit flat in her palm and stifled a laugh as the horse's lips tickled her skin. "We're almost home," she whispered. Home. The word felt like glue in her mouth. "And then you'll have only the finest of blueberries. And hay. Really, the finest of everything. It might not turn out to be as cushy as the Dark Kingdom, but it'll be good." Emma rested her forehead against Vee's muzzle for a moment, then when Henry finally returned and lay back down, she moved to tuck his blanket in at his sides, and gently pressed a kiss to his cheek once she was done.
"Hey ma?" he croaked sleepily before she stood to leave.
"Yea?"
"What if he's sick?"
"Who?"
"Raylings. The man you and Neal are after." Oh.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if he's sick you won't be able to bring him in will you?" It seemed as if everyone was catching the sickness, so it only made sense for Henry to assume that the fugitive they were supposedly after was at risk as well. Neal silently listened in.
"I'm sure he's fine, or as fine as a criminal can be," said Emma.
Before setting out on their current journey, she and Neal had worked together to fabricate a tale about a thief, Arthur Raylings they had decided to call him, wanted for robbery back in George's kingdom, a five-thousand note bounty on his head. Henry had believed wholeheartedly when Emma told him that Raylings had been sighted right outside of the White Kingdom. Naturally, he was curious as to why his mother had finally decided to go near the kingdom, considering that she had avoided it and the immediate area for as long as he could remember. She had brushed his curiosity aside, however, by noting the reward amount. A bounty like that didn't come along every day.
Emma had needed time to think, to work out the best way to tell Henry about where they were actually traveling to. Raylings had been a placeholder for the truth until she could summon up enough courage. Neal had even worked up a fake Wanted poster.
"What if he was sick and he's already dead? That'll mean this whole trip was for nothing."
"Don't worry kid, he's not dead."
"How do you know?"
"I have my ways. Now stop being so grim and go to sleep." Henry sighed but produced no further argument.
"Goodnight ma, goodnight Neal," he said as he shut his eyes.
"Goodnight kid," they replied in unison. Emma glanced at Neal and nodded for him to follow her.
"When are you gonna tell him?" whispered Neal as they moved away from the dozing boy. In order to tell Henry the truth she would have to first face it herself.
"He'll find out soon enough," she grumbled, running a hand through her tangled hair. She should have tied it back earlier.
"But is it really the kinda thing you wanna spring on him?" Emma ignored the question and instead focused on the position of the moon and stars. She still had time. Just a few more minutes to make sure that Henry was in a deep enough sleep, and then she could go. Neal followed her gaze. "You need to get some sleep too, Em," he tried, although he knew it would be fruitless. She hadn't told him of her plan, but he'd put two and two together when he noticed that Emma hadn't unsaddled Vee. "Forget about doing whatever the hell it is you're thinking about doing."
"I'm not thinking about doing anything. I'm doing it," she whispered. " Just keep an eye on him while I'm gone. And I'll be back." Neal rubbed a grimy hand across his forehead.
"Usually I don't have any trouble believing your absurd claims. Don't ask my why, because I couldn't tell you. But this time? I'm having trouble conjuring up enough faith. You just told your son that people avoid her." Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted.
"I have to see her," answered Emma dully, eyes downcast. "See her with my own two eyes before... before she realizes who I am. Before they all realize. Plus, you need a horse."
"I can go get a horse on my own." Earlier in the day he had been forced to walk alongside Emma and Henry on Vee after his own horse had gotten its foot caught in a trap.
"You're gonna walk to the nearest village?" They both knew that him riding Vee there was out of the question, and not because Emma objected mind you.
"Yea, I could," Neal said defiantly. Emma shook her head in exasperation, and they were both silent for a moment, the fire crackling in the background. It had been a long day, and they had two more equally as long ahead of them. It would be so easy to curl up next to her son and rest her tired bones. That would've been the sane thing to do.
Eventually she took a deep breath and glanced at Henry one last time.
"Just don't let him out of your sight." It was more of a plea than an order.
"I won't," Neal answered earnestly, and with that Emma hauled herself up into the saddle and urged Vee forward, the muffled clop clop clop of hooves joining the symphony of insect chatter.