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A horse races through the woods, a hooded traveler mounted atop its back. The traveler urges it faster, ignoring the sweat dripping from its sides and neck, until finally they approach the tallest tree in the forest, where the traveler yanks the horse to a stop and dismounts.
“You’re late,” the other woman says as a greeting. She, too, is wearing a hooded cloak. Neither of them want to be known for this mission.
“Be grateful I came at all,” the traveler retorts. She guides the horse to the stream, allowing it to drink after a long run. “Why did you summon me?”
The woman in the cloak approaches the traveler. “I’ve heard word you’re a master assassin.”
The traveler shrugs. “I haven’t died yet.”
“I need someone killed,” the woman says sharply. “And I need the best of the best to do it.”
Casually, almost bored, the traveler removes her pack and pulls out an apple. “I don’t need all the dramatic buildup. Just tell me who I need to kill and I’ll be on my way.”
“My daughter. The queen.”
Emma follows the long winding path through the woods, every step bringing her closer to the royal palace. The trees cover her identity well – she can’t afford to be recognized in her profession. Carriages pass her on the road and she ducks behind trees until they’re long gone. Finally, she breaks through the trees to see the palace looming on the horizon, and her heart speeds up to a rapid vibration. This will be her hardest job yet.
But then, she’s always loved a challenge.
She throws up the hood of her cloak and starts walking toward the main road. More and more carriages begin to pass her by, but she manages to keep calm every time until, after what seems like days, she’s crossing the bridge into the palace courtyard.
“Name?” the guard grunts.
“Swan.”
“Given name.”
Emma smirks beneath her hood. “Haven’t got one. They call me Traveler.”
The guard lifts his sword. “I can’t let you in without a proper name, Traveler.”
“How about now?” Emma reaches into her pocket and pulls out the black dust Cora gave her, blowing it in the guard’s face and watching in astonishment as he’s engulfed in black smoke and replaced by a tiny insect. Quickly, before she’s seen, she enters the gates and glances around the courtyard. There are men everywhere, lifting heavy objects, twirling their swords, anything to look as manly as possible.
Emma sighs. She’s just about to set down her knapsack when she spot another woman across the courtyard, struggling to lift three baskets of grain at once. Emma hurries to her side and takes one of the baskets from her arms. “Let me help you with that,” she says quietly enough for only the other woman to hear.
“Thank you,” she sighs in relief. “What brings you to the queen’s court? You clearly aren’t part of her staff, covering your identity like that.”
“I’m here to enter the competition to be in her personal guard.”
The woman stops in her tracks. “But only men may be in the guard.”
Emma shrugs. “I figure it’s about time to change that.”
The other woman smiles, walking over to a cart and setting her basket in front of it, Emma following suit. “You’re brave,” she says. “I wish you the best fortune in your endeavors.”
“Thanks.” Emma grins, even though the woman can’t see it. “I should be getting back.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“Of course. Everyone else here is too pigheaded to do it.”
The woman reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a thin gold chain, pressing it into Emma’s hand. “It’s not much, but I want you to have it,” she says softly. “It brings luck to whoever holds it.”
Emma frowns. “I can’t take this from you.”
“It’s an heirloom. Once it’s served its purpose, you must pass it on to another who needs it.”
“What did it do for you?”
“It made my cruel husband go far from me.” She smiles broadly, reaching out to curl Emma’s fingers around the chain. “Wear it around your neck, but don’t let anyone see it. The queen is very strict with her rules; her staff can’t show any signs of wealth.” Squeezing Emma’s hand, she glances over her shoulder. “You should hurry. You don’t want to miss your chance to fight.”
“Thank you,” Emma says softly. She clasps the chain around her neck and tucks it safely beneath her cloak, casting one last look over her shoulder at the woman before breaking into a jog back to the courtyard.
The men are crowded around the arena when she arrives, the arena being a large, rectangular piece of land surrounded by a fence. The crowd is gathered beyond them, the queen’s throne looming above everything and Queen Regina herself sitting with a very bored expression on her face.
The announcer takes his place in the center of the arena just as Emma shoulders her way to the front. “Our first opponents will be Peter Walden and Traveler Swan.” Emma steps into the arena, making sure her hood is secure, and tries her best not to laugh when Peter turns out to be a scrawny boy no older than fifteen. His hands shake, but he holds up his sword, ready to fight.
She beats him in less than a minute.
People cheer, and she sheaths her sword and walks off the field with a hidden smirk. It continues like this, Emma winning quickly every time she’s called. She sneaks a glance up at the queen each time she defeats another prospective, and each time she does Regina looks more and more intrigued with her. By the time she’s called for her final match, the queen is leaning forward in her throne with a glint in her eye. I’ve got this in the bag, Emma thinks to herself as a man named Gaston Something-or-Other steps into the arena.
It takes a bit longer than the others, but Emma still manages to pin him to the ground with her sword to his throat barely breaking a sweat. A glance up toward the throne shows her a smiling queen, and a single nod that confirms her status as a guard before it’s even announced. Now that I’m close to her, she thinks to herself, killing her is gonna be a breeze.
That night the four members that make up Regina’s new personal guard gather in the courtyard for their first meeting with the queen herself. Regina comes out in a whirlwind of skirts and a plunging neckline that makes Emma’s mouth water, all sorts of regal confidence. “You all know who I am,” she begins briskly in a low voice that could melt steel. “But in order for you to be proper guards I must know who you are. When I state your name please step forward and present your sword.” She clears her throat, taking a moment as though trying to remember the first name. “Killian Jones.”
A man with cropped black hair and a hook for a hand takes a single step forward, unsheathing his sword as well as holding out his hook. “Your Majesty,” he says, sinking down to one knee.
With a wave of Regina’s hand, both the sword and the hook are engulfed in shimmering violet. “I’m enchanting your swords,” she explains. “This spell ensures that none of them will be used to harm me, nor any of your fellow guardsmen.”
Killian’s weapons cease their glittering, and he steps back into the ranks. The other two men, Robin Hood and the Huntsman Graham, have their weapons enchanted before Regina says in that smooth voice, “Traveler Swan.”
Emma steps forward and presents her sword, but Regina frowns.
“Address your queen.”
Time to put on a show, Emma thinks. Balancing her sword in one hand, she reaches up with the other to tap her lips a few times, praying Regina will understand.
“He’s mute,” Graham explains when Regina looks confused. “Your Majesty,” he adds hurriedly.
Regina nods thoughtfully. “I see.” Without another word on the matter, she waves her hand and casts the enchantment over Emma’s sword. Once Emma’s standing back in the ranks, Regina addresses the group once more. “If you prefer to use another weapon you must bring it to me in my chambers before it can be used in combat. You will sleep in the guards’ quarters within my own wing of the palace. You’ll train every day, as well as assist with any duties I present you.” She nods once, scanning through all four of them once more. “I have hope for you four. You’re dismissed.”
“Your Majesty,” the men say, the four of them fisting their right hands over their hearts and bowing in the traditional salute. Regina leaves them alone to talk, and talk they do.
It’s mostly Killian, really. He brings out a flask of rum from his jacket, passing it around to the others in celebration. “Care for a drink, Swan?” he asks.
Emma shrugs, taking a few gulps and savoring the burn of the liquid as it runs down her throat. She passes it back to the others after that; she can’t be too intoxicated for risk of revealing herself. The others, however, drink until delusion, shouting and singing in slurred tones.
“Hey, Swan,” Robin calls as Emma’s turning to leave. “Take this to the queen for me, will you?” He jogs over to where his pack is lying on the ground, producing a bow of modest size and a quiver of arrows. “I need her to do her thing to it.”
Graham frowns. “Why can’t you just go yourself?”
Robin grins, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you’re not scared o’ her too. Besides, he can’t say anything to piss her off.” He laughs, a loud and obnoxious sound that echoes throughout the courtyard, and Emma rolls her eyes beneath the protection of her cloak and takes the weapons from his hands.
It’s nice to have an excuse to avoid them, anyway. Graham seems all right, but the other two are much too obscene for her liking. She navigates the various corridors of the palace with little trouble, finally locating the dark wing of the castle designated as Regina’s chambers. She knocks three times on the large doors.
“Enter,” the ever-strong voice calls from inside.
Slowly, Emma pushes the door open, tucking the bow and arrow under her arm. Regina smiles when she comes in.
“Traveler Swan. You wish to have me enchant your bow?”
Emma’s so entranced by Regina she almost forgets she’s supposed to be mute. The queen has replaced her extravagant gown with a soft blue night dress, and let her hair down to fall in soft waves all around her face and down her back. She’s also removed her dramatic black makeup to reveal wide brown eyes framed by long eyelashes and dark circles beneath them to match the lines in her forehead. Clearly being the “Evil Queen” isn’t as glamorous as it seems. Even still, Regina’s beautiful, and Emma has to force herself to stop staring so she can respond.
She shakes her head.
Regina tilts her head. “Then what is your business here?”
Thinking fast, Emma gestures wildly between Regina, the bow, and the courtyard, but obviously her movements are only confusing the queen.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean to say, Traveler.”
Emma sighs. “Robin Hood needs you to enchant his bow,” she explains without thinking. Curse that rum, she screams mentally as her heart speeds up and Regina’s eyebrows shoot upward.
“You can speak.” Regina stands up and walks closer, a curious expression coloring her face. “And not with the voice of a man.”
Emma gulps. “Your Majesty…”
“Remove your hood,” Regina interrupts. When Emma doesn’t move, Regina’s face hardens. “That was an order, Traveler. Remove. Your. Hood,” she repeats, heavily punctuating each word.
Emma’s heart pounds. Bad things could happen if she complies, and bad things could happen if she doesn’t. So she just stands there, sweat beading on her forehead and knees shaking. Regina stares her down with a steely expression, stepping closer and closer as though meaning to take off Emma’s hood herself. Finally, Emma’s brain catches up with reality, and she makes a decision that could make or break her fate. Slowly, she reaches up and grips the fabric between her fingers, taking a deep, calming breath as she pulls the hood down to rest against her back.
She meets Regina’s eye. “My name is Emma.”