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Chapter Text

His place forever and always is by the Queen’s side and he sees no way he can defy his fate. He is broken, he fears, and is now completely devoid of whatever moral compass he once possessed. He has done - and seen things - in the last twenty-four years he has been under her command - that no man should. He is scarred, physically, emotionally, mentally and he is sure that nothing would be able to mend him.

There is only one consolation in all this and it is that the Queen has never been able to regain her previous level of power. In every encounter with King James and Queen Snow she has never been victorious, which means her effects are less far-reaching. There were murmurs and rumours of a terrible curse she was to enact, twenty years ago, but it never came to fruition for reasons that only she herself knows.

The result of her constant failure, however, is that he remains her personal punching bag, her stress relief, against his will. There are still the nights when she forces him to her bedchamber and he thinks that that will be the night he defies her, it will be the night he will take back what is rightfully his, his dignity, his self-respect, his heart. But then he says something, or refuses to kiss her and the chest appears from the bedside table. He wonders how she sleeps knowing a heart is beating next to where she lays but then he knows that years and years of battle have left her with a lack of humanity. She opens the chest, takes out the beating heart, his heart (oh how he longs to have it back in his chest, to feel again, to age again, to rejoin the rest of the world - terrible, wishful dreams, he figures) and squeezes. Sometimes he wishes she would just squeeze too hard, crush it into dust, set him free.

But she’s called the Evil Queen for a reason. Death would be a release for her Huntsman, she would lose her most valuable soldier. She would give him freedom he hadn’t felt since she took his heart all those years ago, make him happy, almost. That would not do.

So she never does crush his heart. Even when he would go behind her back and save those he was meant to kill for her. He began to do that intentionally after the kingdom had been reclaimed by James and Snow White, hoping that she would get angry enough to kill him. But he’d only be severely punished for his actions and it would come to nothing. She would continue to bring him to the brink and then back again, a constant reminder that she will never let him go. So it got to the point where he stopped rebelling. He was now her perfect soldier, emotionless, without mercy, so unlike the man he used to be. It was his hopelessness, he reflects, that led to this change in behaviour. He’s become a shell of the man he used to be. He had never wanted to give up on his hope, when he did so, all those years ago, but there was nothing to hold onto. It was all darkness now, blurred slightly, but darkness all the same. He came to the realisation years ago that he was never going to be freed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Princess Emma finds the royal life tedious, to say the least. Yes, she has been raised in a life of luxury, she wants for nothing and her parents dote on her. But there is only so much that one person can take of this sort of life, she thinks. A life where she has to constantly stand under a spotlight, a sign of hope for a kingdom of devoted subjects she doesn’t think she deserves. For what has she done to earn their trust, respect and love but be born? As far as she can tell her life as a Princess has been one of constant mistakes and missteps, to her own embarrassment and the disappointment of her parents.

They want so much for her to be good at being royal and yet she can’t find a way to match up to the expectations of being the future Queen and also being who she wants to be - whoever that person is anyway.

She doesn’t know if she will ever find her.

The more she thinks about, the more she thinks she would, if only her parents would ever restrict their dominating control on her life. Where to be, who she was to be there with and what to do is all orchestrated well into advance. She is only allowed out of the palace under strict supervision, even though she is now twenty, for reasons she hadn’t understood as a child but is now more aware of. The Evil Queen still lurks in the shadows, her parents tell her, waiting to claim her final revenge on them, for reasons they would not specify.

Even with this threat looming she can never help being adventurous. She’s like her mother and her father in spirit and her skills. She can handle a sword, a bow and arrow, she can hunt and ride horses. She can be self-sufficient, she knows she can, if only they would give her the chance.

She’s not some damsel, she can save herself which is why one day she chooses to sneak out of the castle, climb on her horse, bow and arrow on her back, and hunt for herself. Her father and his men usually go out to do so for feasts and grand dinners but this time she will bring back her own prey. She sees it as the only way to finally free herself, to show that she can.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her curls flow in the wind and she feels so liberated out by herself, no guards to slow her down or tell her to turn back. Just herself and her thoughts. There have only been a few select times she has ever had this luxury and she does not intend to squander it, savouring each moment instead for as long as she can.

As she rides she begins to lose herself in the sounds of nature, in the rhythmic sound of her horse galloping along that she fails to notice her arrival in a clearing until she hears a shuffling sound by some nearby bushes. Her eyes had been closed, she realises, as a cold chill runs down her spine. She shakes her head and opens one eye slowly. All good on the left, she notes, and she smiles, feeling stupid for believing that there was anything out of the ordinary. She opens the other eye and again, there is nothing wrong.

Everything in her says that she should ride away, back to the palace, leave this to another day when she can be more sure that it’s safe. But she’s never really listened to herself.

Jumping off her horse, she stands by him, ties him to a tree and gives his head a small pat. He whinnies but she assures, “I’ll be back in a minute.” She doesn’t intend to really leave this area anyway, seeing a trail that she believes, if what her parents taught her in her teenage years is true, means deer are nearby.

Her horse whinnies again.

“Phillipe, quiet!”

She takes her bow in hand, and retrieves an arrow. It is in this moment that she feels truly alive. Stuffy meetings and balls have never been her style; this is where she feels free.

But it’s not a deer that she sees.

It’s a man.

He’s tall and looks to be maybe two, three years older than her. He has brown hair and stubble on his face and appears to be looking for something.

Phillipe makes a more urgent whinny and Emma turns to shush him but she finds that she didn’t do so in time. The man is now looking at her in confusion. She looks back and is torn between heeding Phillipe’s warning and taking one step forward. She takes the step forward and a wolf appears, in front of her, walking out of the bushes into the clearing.

She jumps back in surprise.

“Heel,” she hears a voice say and she looks up to see the man walking towards her. At his voice, the wolf turns his head and eagerly bounds up to him.

The man kneels before the wolf and begins to quietly stroke his fur. Emma is fascinated by the display.

She tries to find her voice but can’t seem to. She gives a small cough.

The man looks up and it looks as if he wants to smile at her but he can’t. Almost as if there’s a barrier there.

She takes one more step, curiosity striking her as she tries to hear what he is saying to the wolf but she cannot.

Suddenly he stands and she stops walking. He looks at her for a long moment, regarding her and again he tries to smile and again, it’s almost like he physically can’t. He looks lifeless.

“Hey, what’s your name?” she asks, with a smile, finally managing to find her voice.

He blinks in surprise and is silent.

“I’m-”

“I know who you are,” he admits quickly and quietly.

It’s her turn to blink in surprise.

“Then why can’t you tell me who you are?” She folds her arms.

Again, he is completely surprised and she is as well by this brashness she is exhibiting in front of a stranger. Her parents didn’t bring her up in this fashion but in this moment she doesn’t really care. She rarely meets new people outside the castle walls. This is a change, an experience, she muses.

He gives what seems like a shadow of a smile. “Perhaps there are reasons for that, Princess,” he says. She scowls slightly at the emphasis and he notices this. “You do not like being called by your title, Your Highness?”

In this moment he feels almost…alive and he doesn’t know why.

Before she can say anything in reply, and she curses the smirk that graces her face, his face instantly darkens. He looks to the wolf by his side, moves his hand and the creature seems to take this as a signal of some sort, giving a low growl and then running off into the heart of the wood.

Emma tries to speak but he turns. “What is it!?”

“The woods aren’t safe, Princess, get home before you can’t,” he warns her. He wonders why momentarily. His humanity fled him years ago, didn’t it?

“What does that mean?” When he refuses to answer she shakes her head and runs to catch up with him.

He sighs and stops his quick stride, turning to face her. “I have no time to explain this to you but-”

Five, six, no seven, he estimates of the Queen’s best men walk out into their path, surrounding them at either side.

Emma darts her head around warily, trying to figure out some way to gain the upper hand in this situation but she can’t.

She goes to her belt where a dagger should be but finds she forgot to take it in her haste this morning. She winces internally, and determines that her best choice will be her bow and arrow but she has no time to do anything as an arrow whizzes past her eyes and hits one of the soldiers in the arm.

Had he been meaning to only injure, she wonders, as she looks to the man.

“Go,” he tells her.

Her expression tells him that she thinks he’s insane but as he goes to take another arrow, the other soldiers do not move in on him.

Why are they so afraid of him, she wonders?

“Go,” he urges in a more desperate tone.

Why is he letting her go?

Why is he defying her?

This would keep the Queen happy for days, the Princess in her clutches, the ultimate vengeance, but the Huntsman can’t do it.

“Hurry!”

Emma begins to run, running, running, and she only looks back once, to find that the soldiers have advanced on the man with the bow and arrows.

She fumbles with her own for a second before, and she hopes her aim is still as good as the last time she handled a bow and arrow, she sends one into the mix. She isn’t sure who she hits but is somewhat relieved to find that it isn’t the man who just gave her a chance to run.

She knew the armour those men wore well; the former Queen’s men. Her mother’s step-mother’s soldiers. How this man struck that fear into them she didn’t know but she was eternally grateful.

Setting her bow up again with another arrow she doesn’t have to fire it when she hears horses behind her and her father is there, with his best knights, sword already drawn.

He doesn’t look at her, although he recognises her presence, before he runs into the fray. The soldiers notice him and don’t stay to fight, retreating back into the heart of the forest. The man, whose name she still hasn’t found out, isn’t anywhere to be seen.

Silently, she hopes that he got out alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It feels like it did twenty-four years ago, like he’s more susceptible to the pain he had been able to harden himself against for so long. The Queen is furiously hovering over him, pacing in the chamber of hearts, squeezing the heart, anger etched along her face. Whenever she remembers what he did she squeezes much harder and his cries of pain reverberate against the castle walls. She doesn’t even flinch at the guttural noises anymore; they are all worthless cries to her.

“You seem to have forgotten your place, Huntsman,” she tells him with another crush of the heart.

He feels the end. And welcomes it. She’s about to finish him, he dares to hope. But then the weight eases in his chest, the pain almost subsides and he looks up, tears of pain clouding his vision briefly, to see that she is still holding the heart, but her torture has stopped.

She stoops down to his level and takes his chin in her hand. “I could never kill you.”

He wrests his face away and resolves to stare down at the floor. “I wish you would,” he growls.

She laughs. It’s cold and sends icy shivers down his back. “All the more reason not to, my dear.”

Someone knocks on the door as she puts the Huntsman’s heart back in its safe place. She calls out to them to enter while the Huntsman shakily stands on his feet.

A soldier walks in, head bowed. “One man down, three injured.”

“At your hand?” The Queen asks the Huntsman.

The soldier cuts in, shaking his head. “He only injured one in the arm. It was the King who caused the fatality.”

The Queen dismisses him with her hand and he leaves.

“I do not understand your motivations but you will be sure it never happens again, Huntsman. Your acts of mercy once almost cost you your life, do not forget that.”

“This is no sort of life.”

He’s feeling so much more braver, alert, than he has in years and he doesn’t understand why, only that there was a spark in the Princess that made him almost want to smile, to tease, to engage with another person for the first time in so long.

More insolence, the Queen thinks worriedly, as she walks back over to her hearts.

His screams don’t die out until dawn the next day.

Chapter Text

As she paces outside the throne room, Emma stops to press her ear against the door. She stands for at least five minutes, impatiently trying to hear anything, but eventually realises her venture a futile one. Now twenty-two years old she had gathered up her courage and formally requested that her father and mother allow her to go on her first official hunt - alone.

Of course her father had stood up, had began to shake his head vehemently against the idea. He had also began to talk about the incident two years ago, the incident which had spurred her already over-protective parents into overdrive. The number of guards outside her room, in the courtyards, the corridors and the woods had been stepped up dramatically following her run in with The Evil Queen's men. At the time she had resented her mother and father greatly but over time she had come to accept that some of the responsibility was hers to shoulder. Even with this she had still tried to impress on them in some way that their sometimes overbearing presence in her life had driven her to sneaking out that day - and perhaps if they were more lenient she would have been more open to reason. She had only been met by a silence by her mother and father - and a look that said they couldn't possibly tell her how much they loved her.

That look was enough to guilt her into silence on the matter, for the time being and she began to train with her father, finding that not all her pleas had fallen on deaf ears, becoming an expert with a sword, and taking archery lessons with her mother. They had taught her more about tracking and there had been the rare occasion where she had been allowed out on a hunt with her father and his knights - although she had never been allowed too close to the action.

She takes a seat outside the throne room and sits with her hands in her lap, before beginning to nervously play with her hair, coiling and uncoiling a strand of the curls as she bites her lip. She hopes that they can see how seriously she has taken the lessons provided to her and how well she can defend herself now, and how ready she is to prove her own strength to them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the other side of the door, King James slams his fist down on the table, as the War Council sits around it, pure frustration etched on his face. "You remember what happened two years ago?" he asks those in attendance. "She was almost killed by Regina's soldiers!"

Queen Snow takes her husband's hand, and he looks to her. She does look anxious but she seems to still hold that serenity that only she can retain in situations such as these, a graceful yet powerful silence that she has mastered in her years as Queen. “But she didn't and we were both around the same age that she is now when we were out fighting for our lives, our freedom.”

“So you want her to have to fight and run from her men?” James questions, emphasising the 'her' with disgust evident in his voice. “That was our life for years, Snow. Do we want that for Emma?”

Snow shakes her head and places her other hand over his. It's in the same reassuring way she held it in her own when the rumours that Regina was mounting a terrible curse had began and it still calmed him in the same way, twenty-two years later. “Of course not,” she implores, “but, as hard as it is for us, we can't expect her to stay cooped up in a castle all her life. She's our daughter, and that means giving her her best chance, whatever that may be.”

James looks unconvinced and closes his eyes to steady his thoughts for a moment until there is a cough. He opens his eyes to find that the rest of the council are trying to identify the source of the noise as well.

“Down here.” James finds Jiminy Cricket, under his magnifying glass, fixing the glasses that perch upon his nose. “If I may...” James nods, beckoning their wise friend to continue. “I do not mean to speak out of turn, Your Majesties, but I feel like you may be stifling the Princess. If you do not show that you have some degree of trust in her then she may come to resent you.” The grasshopper looks worried in the brief moment that James nor Snow speaks but breathes a sigh of relief when the King and Queen both nod at each other. His relief is doubled when they smile at him also and stand.

James nods to one of the guards by the door. “Send in the Princess please.”

“Right away, Your Majesty.”

Emma enters within seconds and walks to her parent's side. “You wished to see me?”

James stands before the War Council. “You are all dismissed,” he says to them. “Your support in this decision has been most helpful, thank you.”

Soon enough The Royal Family are the only ones left in the throne room. “Your father and I have come to a decision, Emma,” Snow explains.

Emma dares to hope that her request has been allowed but she doesn't dare smile, or show any hint of emotion, negative or positive, until her father eventually opens his mouth.

“We love you very much, you know that.”

Emma nods. “Of course I do.”

He nods back and realises this is harder than he thought. She is no longer the baby he held in his arms, the child who would wave to him as she tore around the palace gardens, to the exasperation of the servants. No, she is now a woman. She has been for a long time, it has just taken so long for it him to open his eyes, to see it and to accept it.

The realisation makes him want to back out of the deal he and Snow silently made. But Snow looks at him expectantly and Emma is trying not to look at him with any emotion, but the glint of hope in her eye does not go unnoticed.

“And your mother and I have decided that it is time you were allowed to hunt – by yourself.”

She's smiling so hard that it's starting to hurt but she hardly has the time to care. All that she can think is that they finally trust her, they are finally seeing her as an adult, a person in her own right. It is a wonderful feeling, one that makes her smile even harder.

“Thank you mother!”

Snow hugs her first, tears in her eyes. James is not the only one who still sees Emma as their little girl, especially when she thinks of all the uncertainty in the lead up to her birth; the curse had been an ever-present threat throughout the pregnancy until it suddenly wasn't anymore.

Stepping out of her mother's embrace, Emma stands before her father and he smiles warmly at her. He places his hands on her shoulders and kisses her on her forehead. He says nothing, just wraps her in his arms and savours this moment. These are the most precious moments to him. In this moment being a King doesn't matter, the most important titles to him are husband and father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How touching,” states Regina, sarcastically, as she flicks her hand at the Magic Mirror and the image of the happy Royal Family embracing each other leaves her sight.

At least physically. She is sure she still wants to vomit from it all; the loving words exchanged, the sight of a happy Snow White. She just can't stand it! That cold hearted girl still has the audacity to pretend that she is so innocent, so pure and free of any guilt.

“At least this means your plan can finally take fruition, my Lady,” The Mirror tells her and she turns to him.

“Now that I do like the sound of,” she says. She nods to one of her guards. “Summon The Huntsman.”

Her best assailant walks in minutes later. His face is empty of any emotion. He lacks any mercy now. Any part of him that still did she was sure to destroy when she tortured him until the dawn broke two years ago. His screams were like music to her manic mind, only telling her that she was doing this right. She hadn't let up, even when he began to shed tears, even when he was almost unconscious. No, she never did, not until she was sure he was close to death, in the early hours of the morning.

The greatest torture was showing that she could almost grant him that freedom, almost, but then take that away as well. He was hers, her puppet, her pet. She could do anything she liked with him, control him in anyway and for a moment he had foolishly forgotten that.

That night she regained that control which the wretched daughter of Snow White had unknowingly tried to wrest from her.

That will not happen again. She is assured in this by how broken he is. Before, he had a little fight, a little strength left but now his spirit is gone. He wanted to feel something and now feels nothing.

In a way she almost thanks him for that day, when he spared the Princess. It was a moment of weakness but one that helped in plotting her best act of revenge yet. The Princess would now trust him. He had saved her once before, he would do so again. That very trust would be the undoing of herself and everyone she held dear.

Regina now imagines the moment. When her most trusted Huntsman will be accepted into the Royal Court, gratitude from the King and Snow White – she can't bear to call that girl a Queen – at how he saved their precious daughter from her men. He will become close to them, he will get to the very - she laughs at the irony - heart of the royal family, and then he will strike.

“What is your purpose, my dear Huntsman?”

He is stoic, remorseless now, he can't even remember a time when he did hold remorse and it haunts him still, in the darkest nights and the brightest days. “To kill them; the King, the Queen, the Princess.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The guards line up outside the palace as Emma walks to her horse, her mother on her left, her father on her right.

“You have your dagger?” Snow asks with a nervous smile.

Emma nods.

“And your bow and arrows?” James questions, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

Emma once again nods.

“Your sword?” Snow checks.

Emma's face breaks into a smirk. “I can do this, I promise.”

“I know sweetheart.” Snow hugs her and repeats, quieter this time, “I know.” When she pulls back, she takes her daughter's face into her hands. “We believe in you.”

Emma smiles and then looks to her father expectantly. “Father...”

“We do believe in you.” He pauses and gulps down his emotion. "I promise."

There is one more embrace between father and daughter before Emma climbs onto Phillipe and waves goodbye, riding off into the woods.

James goes to Grumpy and Red, who are conversing while nervously watching their goddaughter go. “I want you two to watch her,” he quietly says.

Grumpy folds his arms and grunts. “I thought you were givin' the kid a break?” James sends him a warning look but the man is not scared.

Red nods in silent agreement. "Wasn't that the whole point of today? To show you trust her."

James nods and he knows that his oldest friends are right but there is a knot in his stomach, not unlike the one he felt just before Snow ate the poisoned apple. He looks into the distance where his daughter on her horse is still in view. “I trust her. I don't trust Regina.”

At the mention of The Evil Queen herself, Grumpy and Red nod to each other, understanding exactly what the woman is capable of and understanding their friend's fears.

While it is begrudgingly they agree to the task with Red assuring him, “You can count on us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So much freedom, is all she can think, as she rides Phillipe and feels the wind flow through her hair, blood pumping through her veins. She hasn't been able to ride in the woods by herself for two years and this is what being alive is, she decides.

She still remembers the path she took that day and almost goes to replicate it. She would be lying if she said that sometimes her thoughts didn't wander to the man who she met on her last visit to this part of the woods two years ago.

Sometimes she even dreams of that exchange and she will find herself, during the most unrelated moments, wondering whether or not he survived the ambush that day. She had asked her father about him when they had arrived back at the castle but he had insisted that there had only been The Evil Queen's soldiers assembled. Anyone else must have escaped.

Or...

She doesn't think of the 'or' that often.

Trying to rid herself of the thoughts she shakes her head and looks behind her, to find that there is no one following her. Good, she resolves, she likes the feeling of being on her own.

Continuing to ride Emma is unaware that she is being watched by The Huntsman, crouching in the bushes, flanked by four of the Queen's soldiers. Regina had decided upon them because they were not among the best in her small yet powerful army. They are new recruits, ones who will be good enough to ambush the Princess but not worthy enough that if they should die in the process she will be at a loss to replace them.

Emma stops Phillipe once she sees a deer grazing. Quietly she dismounts Phillipe, and tells him to stay. Her trusted horse shows no sign of movement and Emma begins to quietly move towards the other animal.

Holding the bow up, with her arrow set in it, her hand pulling the string all the way back, her target aimed at, she breaths in, calming her nerves. She is steady, she has done this before. Just because her mother or father aren't encouraging her doesn't mean she cannot do it.

She can, she can, she can...

In the moment she fires, someone steps on a branch behind her.

The deer is alerted by the loud noise and manages to run off into the distance, narrowly avoiding the arrow sent its way.

She gives a deep sigh and turns around to find Grumpy standing there, looking sheepish.

“Oh, Princess, I-”

“Just forget it,” declares Emma, and she sets off, on foot through the forest.

Grumpy goes to follow her as Red reprimands him.

“We're in so much trouble!” she says with an angry tone to him, as she glares, pulling her hood up.

“You forget, that's my middle name, sister.”

With an awful feeling dwelling in the pit of their stomachs the two race off, on foot, behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She can't believe she had been so stupid to believe that she was now fully trusted. Who was she kidding? Her parents still saw her as a little girl, a little, defenseless, stupid girl who can't do anything right, or anything on her own without some sort of escort.

Why would two years change what they decided she wasn't capable of in twenty?

Her bow still in hand, she's decided to track her prey by foot, finding that it will be easier to evade her well-meaning godparents in that way. She finally begins to pick up the trail when she hears another crack of another twig.

With a sigh, she turns around again, ready to give Grumpy and Red a piece of her mind, only to be confronted by two of The Evil Queen's men.

She turns again and another two are standing in front of her. She looks to her side, to try and find some way to dodge them but they are circling her like she is the prey now.

With shaking hands, she, as subtly as possible, draws her dagger and clutches it for dear life, until her hand hurts and her knuckles are white.

Why are they just circling her?

Why haven't they attacked yet?

She doesn't have time to think of any answers as she notices them sneering at her; as if she is a child, incapable, some sort of weakling. It is enough to make her blood boil.

“Hey!”

That catches their attention as she throws her dagger, hitting one of them in the leg. She knows that she should now retrieve an arrow from her quiver but watching the soldier fall over in agony, his comrades advancing on leaves her rooted to the spot. She has had a moment of bravery but it was pure adrenaline and now all that's left is her life flashing before her eyes as she thinks of her mother and her father and Grumpy and Red and-

In what seems like a flashback, and it's a moment she's often thought about, an arrow whizzes past her head. Perfect aim, she thinks as she watches it strike the soldier directly in front of her, who had his sword drawn and had been just about to strike. She notes that the arrow would have hit her had it been cocked to the side by just another inch.

That must mean...

She turns around to find the man from two years with a bow and arrow, which he aims at the remaining two soldiers. “Leave her alone,” he commands of them. They begin to walk towards him, swords drawn.

“And if we don't?” one of them sneers, as the other laughs.

The man pulls the string of his bow back further. “You know that I never miss.”

A stalemate occurs before the soldiers retreat back into the bushes.

Emma lets out the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding as the man lowers his bow and looks to the ground, putting his the arrow he never had to fire back into his quiver and adjusting the bow on his back.

“Well, Princess,” he says, “it appears we meet again.”

Chapter Text

"I could have handled that!"

Emma folds her arms at the man in front of her and gives a 'humph' noise, turning on her heel and walking away, but not before noting the smirk on his lips.

Just what did that smirk mean?

"Is that your idea of a thank you, Highness?"

She turns around, gives him a withering look and realises that's what the smirk was for. He puts his arms up, as if in surrender and tilts his head to the side.

"I would have gone down the more conventional, 'thank you for saving my life again ,' route, but yours is much more…hmm, original?"

She gives another agitated look in his direction.

She is not ungrateful. She is simply irritated. Her hunt has been badly ruined by the arrival of the Queen's men. All her father will do is now double up security, and lock her away from the world forever, throwing away the key and leaving her to a life in the palace, up until the day she is the Queen of the kingdom.

And even then, she doubts he'll give her that much space or freedom.

She sighs and this sigh reflects her frustration.

"Something bothering you?"

She smiles, but it is somewhat forced. "No. I apologise for my lack of manners. I owe you a thank you…" she trails off searching for a name but she never receives it as another arrow flies through the air and the man in front of her narrowly avoids it.

"What-"

"Emma! Emma! Thank goodness you're alright." Emma is caught up in a hug by her mother as the woman rushes through the trees to catch her in the embrace. When Snow eventually pulls away, she gives her daughter a once over. "You are alright, aren't you?"

"Mother, I'm fine," Emma insists. She looks to the trees. "Did you send that-"

Her question is answered by her father who walks into the clearing, bow in hand, quiver on his back and a stony expression on his face.

"Huntsman," he says coolly. His face is a mix of emotions, Emma notes. He looks fierce, protective, as she has almost always seen him, but there is some sort of conflict there. She doesn't understand it.

Emma looks towards the other man, The Huntsman, as her father called him.

She finds that to be an odd name for someone to have. The Huntsman.

But she doesn't have time to ponder this for her father is nose to nose with him. While her father looks him over, up and down continuously, he is obviously intrigued by something.

It appears to be something which interests her mother as well as Snow lets her arms fall away from her daughter and walks over to where her husband and The Huntsman stand, still silently regarding one another.

"It's been a long time, Huntsman," she says in a clipped tone, which says she's not sure what to make of this.

Neither is Emma, if she is being honest, utterly confused by the way in which her parents are acting around him.

Her mother's words also make her wonder. 'A long time?' He knows her parents?

The Huntsman gives a bow. "Yes. It has."

"Yet…"

"It is a long story," The Huntsman interrupts James' thought before it can even be formed.

Emma sees a change in the way he stands now. He is defensive, small in a way, but also proud and confident. He is a walking contradiction.

James draws his sword.

The Huntsman remains calm, while something inside Emma is almost screaming.

"Father, no!"

Both Snow and James turn to their daughter, and she realises her protests were also out loud as well as in her head.

"He works for the Queen, Emma," James says, and Emma shakes her head, unable to believe it. For some reason this man saved her from the Evil Queen's men twice; and she trusts him, as if she knew him, somehow, somewhere else, long ago.

"I left the Queen," The Huntsman reveals, and she is both surprised he would admit such an association and wondering why he would save her. "I stole back what was rightfully mine and I escaped. I did not want to take part in that life anymore."

Emma wonders if that's pain she can see in his eyes?

James still looks doubtful and refuses to sheath his sword. Still not completely trusting, Snow steps forward tentatively. James tries to warn her off it but she shakes her head at her husband's warning.

"If I may, Huntsman," she begins, "I was under the impression that you couldn't get back what she took. And it appears you haven't changed – in any way – since we first met."

There was so much about this conversation that Emma would have to ask her parents about, as she wonders what that last comment means.

But The Huntsman is never given an opportunity to reply to her vague statement, as Grumpy and Red come storming through the clearing.

"Emma! You're okay!"

Her godmother throws her arms around her much like her mother did and Emma smiles at the concern.

"Yes, Red, all thanks to The Huntsman here."

"The Huntsman?"

Both Grumpy and Red share a look that shows their apparent confusion. They look to James and Snow for confirmation and they nod.

"The same Huntsman who…"

She trails off, and Snow grasps what she is talking about and so nods. "The very one."

"And who…"

Red's question this time is poised to James, who shrugs. "Apparently so."

Obviously he is still finding it hard to trust this twist of fate, while Emma is still trying to decipher what lies behind the looks that her parents and godparents keep sending each other.

"Emma, did he really save you?" It's as if her mother is asking her to remember something difficult but Emma nods straight away.

"Not just today, but two years ago, remember I told you about the man in the woods?"

"That was you? "

For the first time, The Huntsman looks somewhat unsure but he nods anyway. "It seemed like the right thing to do."

"Even when she could've killed you?" James' doubt is only increased now.

"I paid dearly for every act of mercy I ever carried out," is the reply from The Huntsman and it is a deathly quiet reply. A chill descends over those assembled, as The Huntsman's mouth morphs into a line, and it is almost like he doesn't care who he is speaking to, who he is in front of.

"Well, we give you our thanks, don't we Emma?" Snow prompts her daughter, as she takes her husband's arm and pulls him back from the other man, gently, trying to avoid any sort of further conflict arising.

Emma nods her head. "Yes, of course." She smiles to The Huntsman but again, it's like he physically can't return it.

"And we must be getting on our way," her father says, eventually sheathing his sword, as she continues to study his face.

" James! " Snow reprimands and she looks to The Huntsman. "It appears a member of our family once again owes you their life. I would like to extend an invitation to you, a warm meal and shelter in the castle. It is growing colder day by day, you'll be frozen out here before long. "

He shakes his head. "I couldn't possibly…"

Snow gives a graceful smile. "I insist." She takes a step forward tentatively. "You say you've left the Queen?" He nods, a distant look on his face. "It won't be long until she is after you, Huntsman. It will not be safe here when she finds you."

Emma can't deny that she feels somewhat concerned and she doesn't fully understand why; it's probably linked to her debt of gratitude to a virtual stranger who has saved her life twice now. She doesn't know what the Queen had on him but it must be dangerous. She nods to him when he looks to her.

She smiles when he accepts the offer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Huntsman wonders how they can be so trusting of him, especially when he, himself, knows that his intentions are not what they appear. He figures he must be a better actor than he gives himself credit for. He had to be, the Queen has been preparing him for this, her greatest act of revenge for two years now.

The dishonour of it all is something that still weighs him down but the part of him that is now a robot-like soldier doesn't feel it, and that far outweighs whatever guilt he feels as a pathetic human.

The walk to the castle is one taken in complete silence; he knows to walk far behind the King and Queen, the Princess walking in step with them. The woman with the red cloak walks in front of them while the dwarf, walks behind them, The Huntsman kept at an arms distance, by the King's demand.

He is walking, trailing his feet, eyes locked straight ahead when the castle comes into view. He has to hide the grin that flashes upon his face, especially when he turns his head to see the Princess now walking beside him.

He's shocked for a moment, but quickly begins to walk in step with her again. "Won't they worry?" he asks her, gesturing to her parents, her mother taking her father's arm and pulling him along, as he had stopped to look at them with suspicious in his eyes.

She laughs and nods, with a smile that looks slightly devious, like she enjoys breaking the rules from time to time. He doesn't find this to come as a shock.

He resists the urge to smile back at her, reminding himself of his mission, his one and only purpose now, that has been drummed into his head painfully and repeatedly by the Evil Queen. He can't let himself forget her brief.

Get in; get out, and in between that carry out the task. Gain their trust, she implored, and when the time is right, strike.

It may be a terrible mission, but he can't care about that, all he can care about is the reward at the end, something he has been striving towards for years, his chance to be free.

His heart back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The Huntsman has arrived at the castle, Your Majesty," The Mirror informs Regina and she smiles wickedly.

"Excellent. Did they buy the bait?" she asks, as she watches the scene unfold in front of her, of the family of three, two members of their Royal Guard and her loyal Huntsman, stand at the palace entrance, as the gate opens.

He steps inside and victory rages in Regina's chest. It is finally coming to fruition. She has been waiting so long for this moment and now that it is finally here; she can finally fill that emptiness, that void that has plagued her since Daniel…

She stops thinking of him immediately.

"Yes," replies the Mirror, who knows not ask about the moment her face faltered, as a memory obviously danced across her mind. "The King is doubtful but the Queen-"Regina gives a snarl that appears to be a warning, "-I mean Snow White , seems to trust him. The Princess does also."

Regina laughs. "Of course she does. She's as foolish as her wicked mother."

"Nevertheless, your revenge is on its way to being complete, Your Majesty, you must be thrilled."

"How I feel is my business and my business alone," she says. "I wish daily status reports, Genie, let no movement go unnoticed."

He nods. "May I ask one question, my Lady?"

She turns around and stares at the magic mirror. "What?"

"The Huntsman." He shines an image of the hunter being given a warm welcome by members of the Royal Court, grateful that he 'saved' their princess. He looks uncomfortable, unused to the attention, but, Regina is sure, not guilty in the slightest. "Are you planning on honouring your deal with him."

She smirks. "I'm not Rumplestiltskin , my dear. Honouring deals means little to me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pinocchio, a man about his own age (or at least the age he is forever stuck at), has just finished shaking The Huntsman's hand and insisting that, "Any friend of Emma is a friend of mine," when the King dismisses the Royal Court while asking for Snow, Emma and a man named Jiminy Cricket to stay present, as well as The Huntsman himself.

James stands from the table and hesitantly, asks the hunter to sit in a seat directly opposite from him. "I am eternally grateful to you, Huntsman, for saving my daughter's life, especially when two years ago it could have meant certain death for you." He pauses thoughtfully. "I am also grateful that you are the reason why my wife and I sit here today with our daughter." Here comes the but, thinks The Huntsman and it's like an echo as James says, "But I cannot fully trust you not without a full analysis from the wisest man in our Court."

The Huntsman looks at him in question, and then looks around, not seeing anyone else apart from the three Royals sitting across from him. He wonders if it is James himself, but then there is a small cough.

"Down here."

A cricket stands on the table, under a magnifying glass, to make him more visible of course. The Huntsman looks from cricket to James, to James from cricket a few times until he focuses his attention on the bug.

He is aware that this is some sort of test he must pass to gain their trust. Regina had warned him there would be a few but she hadn't specified what exactly they would consist of.

"Well, Jiminy, what do you see?" asks James, with a look of pure concentration on his face.

The Huntsman wonders if the King is trying to intimidate him. He almost smirks at the challenge. The King is fearsome and powerful, one of the strongest warriors in the land, but The Huntsman has been under Regina's torture for as long as he can remember; he has seen and he has felt everything he could in relation to fear and pain.

"Someone who is lost, in the currents of good and evil, between the man he is and the man he wants to be."

The Huntsman resists the urge to shake his head. He is not lost in good and evil, he is evil now, isn't he? That's how it works. There is no man he wants to be either; there is only the man that circumstances have shaped him into.

"Interesting," James notes, as he sits in his seat, Snow's hand in his own.

"A cricket takes one look at me and can tell all that. How is that interesting?" asks The Huntsman. He almost forgets he is in front of the King, almost forgets that this is just part of one mission.

Jiminy gives a laugh, as if he expected this, and continues, "There is some darkness, but also a beacon of good, one that cannot be snuffed out, no matter how much you wish it."

While there is some anxiety, The Huntsman refuses to show it on his face, he cannot afford to. He has to pass this test. He has to.

"It's an understandable darkness, it stems from something you lost. But you cannot resent it. You were one of the Queen's most feared hunters for so long. Yet," Jiminy pauses and examines him more closely and smiles, "you want to change. And you can. Everyone can, if they just open their heart up to the possibility of good and a happy ending."

Jiminy turns to the Royal Family and James smiles at him. "Thank you, Jiminy." He nods and the cricket nods back to him.

James stands up and walks towards the door, still hand and hand with his wife, Emma a step behind them.

"Come along, Huntsman, dinner is prepared."

The trio leave the room and the Huntsman is walking towards the door but another small cough stops him in his tracks.

He turns around to find Jiminy still perched upon the table. "Your salvation, your hope lies with you. Do not make the wrong choices, do not let your heart be consumed with her darkness. Let it be filled with the light."

It's very clearly a warning, one that stops him in his tracks. He turns to the cricket and wants to say something but shakes his head.

There is nothing to say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma walks with The Huntsman, to one of the palace guest rooms, after the dinner. Her parents insisted that guards would do it, but Emma had pleaded and eventually they relented. The walk is painfully awkward as she doesn't know what to say to him.

She settles for, "Thank you."

"What?"

"Thank you," she repeats emphatically. She stops, and he does so too. "If it hadn't been for you, I could have been dead."

"I thought you could have handled it."

She gives a wry smile to his smirk.

"Nevertheless, your bravery has saved my life, twice now, and I wanted to thank you properly for that. I also want to apologise for my parents, my father in particular."

The Huntsman shakes his head. "It is…understandable. I've never understood unconditional love, but your parents obviously have that for you." He stops himself from admitting that he has never understood love at all.

"Didn't your parents-" His eyes meet the ground and she wishes she could take the words back. "I am so sorry."

“Is this my room?” he asks sharply and she’s taken aback by the clipped tone and the haste with which he changed the conversation.

“Yes,” she replies in an almost monotone voice, which causes him to look at her. She nods her head at him, “Goodnight Huntsman.”

He watches her walk away but the pang in his chest is one he has never experienced before and the feeling confuses him.

Chapter Text

He remembers the pain. The way that his chest tightened and he buckled to his knees, during his first year in the Queen's castle and under her control. He had been naive then, he guessed, sure that salvation would always be around the corner. Someone, anyone, would thwart her and then he would have his heart back and go free. That was why he would take any opportunity to cross her, trying to retain the humanity he was sure he hadn't possessed until it was being taken by him by force.

One year had quickly turned to two however. Then two years turned to three, until somehow he had counted the days and it was ten.

By this time he was still prone to some acts of rebellion but they had dramatically decreased in number. He had almost resigned himself to his fate, as Regina grew more and more determined in her revenge. Her attempt at a dark curse that would rip Snow White's happy ending from her almost came to pass but for reasons that only the Evil Queen was aware, did not. From then on her path to revenge continued, her heart was consumed by darkness and hatred.

There had been a time, he is sure, where she could have stopped, started a new life and let go of the grudge she had been dragging around with her for decades. But then her father died, and her heart was once more filled with hurt and grief. Channeling this new found anger she should have reserved for the world at Snow White only renewed her fiery path to vengeance and by this point he was walking submissively behind her, a puppet to her twisted games and a victim of her blackened heart.

He shakes his head as he thinks. He doesn't feel as if he's a victim; he is a man who has had choices and who along the way began making the wrong ones. Not that it matters now, he guesses. It's one last mission, one last bloody and dangerous mission, but one more all the same under he's finally afforded his freedom in the form of his heart.

Looking around, he notes how nice the guest room the King and Queen have given him is. It definitely feels more comforting than the cold hovel of a 'room' he's occupied all those years in the Queen's castle. When she called him a pet, stuck in a cage, she had been more or less literal. His room in the castle was a dark one, apart from a candle, on a small rickety table, he lit every night for heat and light, a routine he had grown quite used to.

In contrast there is a giant window which allows the falling sunlight to pour into the room in the castle guest room. An ornate bookcase sits in the corner as well. Reading had become one of the only enjoyable activities he would partake in, sitting in the library in the corner of Regina's castle, losing himself into a story that was not his own; a story which had a happy ending and hope at the end; not like his, he could never see an ending for his.

The room is so spacious, he thinks, so unlike what he had been used to. He leans back on the bed and silently contemplates the nature of his task, as he thinks of their blind kindness.

He has spared the lives of the Royal Family and now it seems to be coming full circle in a twisted sense. His imprisonment began when he spared Snow's life and now that hers will be coming to a close he will regain his. It fills him with a reluctant sense of satisfaction. Is that something he wants to feel? Had he ever blamed Snow before? Before the Queen began drumming that into his head as well?

Did she? Or did he just imagine the taunts?

"You saved her life and yet you are here, my pet, locked in a cage, unable to fly, while she lives in a palace, with a husband, a child, a family. Where are your family, my dear Huntsman, where are they?"

He shoots up from the bed. It's still relatively light outside so he must have not fallen asleep but her voice still resounds in her head. It's pounding, he realises, and he feels slightly nauseated. He takes some deep breaths and that appears to centre his thoughts, as another wave of no emotion settles over him.

At that moment someone knocks the door. There is one at first.

He doesn't answer it.

A second quickly follows as a response to his silence.

He still stays on the bed and makes no movement towards the door.

Another, and it is followed by a sigh. "Hello." It's the Princess, he realises. "Hello," she calls out again and this time she knocks the door much harder. "Are you in there?"

He stands and walks to the door, turning the handle and opening it, to find the Princess standing there, hand up, midway through the motion of knocking the door again. She looks startled momentarily by the haste in which he pulled open the door but smiles quickly anyway.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go on walk with me," she asks.

There is more silence from him.

She continues. "The palace gardens are lovely this time of year."

"It's winter," he replies. "Everything is…dead, is it not?"

She shakes her head. "It's the snow, you see?" In a brash move, she pushes past him, taking him by surprise and walks over to the window. He stands at the door still, not knowing whether to follow until she turns and beckons him over with a wave of her hand. She points down to the garden which can be clearly seen from the window. "Look, it makes it look like something else, magical almost, right?"

He doesn't quite see it and looks at her confused.

"So, how about that walk?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he finally sees what she means, she smiles, as the recognition lights up his face and they stroll around the gardens, two guards behind them.

"Doesn't that ever get tiring?" he asks in a low voice.

She shrugs. "It's like they're almost family at this point, isn't that right?" She turns to the guards but they don't smile back at her. "As jolly as ever, men."

He smiles and she wonders why. Seeing the question on her face he shrugs as well. "You just don't act like you would expect a Princess to, that's all."

"I know," she replies.

Her words hang in the air because he doesn't know how to respond; especially when he's sure he didn't imagine that hint of disappointment in her voice.

"You speak as if that's a bad thing, Your Highness?"

"Isn't it?" she queries. They continue walking before she opens her mouth to speak once more. "I am to be the Queen one day, the heir to the throne, and yet it's almost like I'm trapped here, this place is like a cage."

The analogy hits him. "It's not a terrible cage, Highness."

"But it's a cage nonetheless."

Her point is a fair one.

"Princess," one of the guards says, and Emma turns to him. "Your father has requested that you return to your chambers for the night."

She notices that night has crept up on them; the stars now shine brightly above their heads. "Very well," she says with a reluctant smile.

Returning to the castle, Emma bids farewell to The Huntsman at the entrance with a smile, while he bows to her. She shakes her head. "You don't have to do that, honestly, it's embarrassing actually."

He nods. "As you wish, Highness."

He turns from her, a guard at his heels, and something else doesn't sit right with her. "Emma," she calls. "You can call me Emma."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't trust him," James comments as he watches Emma and The Huntsman enter the palace gardens from his room window. He stares down at them intently as Snow takes his arm and leans on him.

She is also slightly wary of the man who once not only saved her life, her husband's, and now her daughter's. A part of her does not know whether his plight is genuine or not but she figures the best way to monitor whether or not he's a threat is to have him where she and James can keep an eye on him, rather than James' idea of throwing him out into the cold.

All that can do is breed more resentment and make him more dangerous if he even is a threat in the first place.

Plus, they both owe him a debt of gratitude, one that she doesn't feel they can even begin to pay.

"I still don't want her out there with him," James insists. He goes to the door and opens it, converses with one of the guards for a moment before the guard leaves his position at the door and begins walking down the corridor.

"We have to trust her," Snow tells her husband, with a shake of her head. "She already thinks we don't because you sent Red and Grumpy after her." James sits on their bed and she goes to sit beside him. "Why did you do that?"

He looks at her. "When are we going to be free of Regina, Snow, really? It's been almost thirty years. We went from hiding from her, to thinking we were rid of her, to fearing her for nine months and now what are we doing?" He puts his head in his hands. Always having to come across as fearless and ready for anything, Snow knows that this is one of the moments where he can be completely honest with his reservations, where he can fall into her arms and she'll lift him up.

"One day soon, we will."

"What if we're never? What if when we eventually die, our grandchildren, our great-grandchildren, still have to deal with that witch? What then Snow? It will just become a bloody war where the real reason for the fighting is lost forever."

Snow blinks her eyes rapidly to rid herself of tears. She fears that his words have a ring of truth to them and no reassurance can placate these. She's dealt with the questions for what seems like all her life; ever since the day The Huntsman spared her, in fact.

She wonders if that's some sort of sign.

She kisses James' forehead and he looks up at her and smiles, a worn out smile but a smile all the same.

As long as he has his wife and his daughter, his beacons of hope, he knows that they can face any threat from Regina.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Huntsman finds himself in the marketplace just on the outskirts of the palace with the Queen and Princess the following day.

Snow White had insisted upon his presence, as she had wanted to show him around the market and he couldn't turn her down without seeming suspicious. Still, there's a chill in the air, and he's aware of the eyes trained on his back and the people who part when he comes near.

He's gained a reputation, the Queen's fiercest soldier, the one with no hint of emotion, the one they call The Huntsman, the one whose arrow never misses. Many names, many guises but he knows exactly what they think of him.

A killer, a merciless villain, perhaps no better than The Evil Queen herself. He's sure he probably does deserve those titles.

"So Huntsman, how did you orchestrate your escape?" asks Snow, as she casually examines a stall selling fruit. He notes that she avoids the apples at all costs.

"The Queen was visiting her father's crypt one day. I snuck into her vault, stole it back and ran."

"Stole what back?" Emma asks, from beside her mother, as she does pick up an apple. She gives the tradesman some coins and then begins biting into the fruit.

The Huntsman finds the similarity between mother and daughter striking at this point.

"There is no need to go into details," Snow decides. The Huntsman can tell by her quick change of the subject that she has yet to really go into the details of her feud with Regina with her daughter. "All that matters is that you are safe from her now. But you won't be for long," she guesses.

The Huntsman nods. "That is true."

"Where were you planning to go?" Snow questions as they pass a few more vendors but forego the stalls in favour of continuing their conversation. "The woods?"

"I was going to find refuge for a while, gain some wealth , and then escape this realm."

Snow smiles. "I remember a time when that was my plan."

"Times do change, don't they, Your Majesty?"

"As do people."

The Huntsman is more than aware that her trust in him is not as strong as he thought it was. He remembers he told her the day she was supposed to die that she had good instincts; she still does.

Emma stops as if she's just seen something and her mother also does, trying to find what has caught her daughter's attention. It only takes a moment and as soon as she does The Huntsman has bolted off towards the entrance of the marketplace.

For standing there had been his wolf; the same one Emma had found him speaking to the first day they met.

Completely disregarding her mother's calls, Emma runs after them, pulling her skirts up as she races through the marketplace and then the woods, following the tracks left, until she finally comes into the clearing and finds The Huntsman on his knee and fondly stroking the fur of the wolf in front of him.

"You…you're still alive," he is saying to it.

The wolf nods and wags his tail.

"A friend?" Emma asks, in confusion and it's at this point that she realises she ran right into the woods with wild abandon. She shakes her head, not quite believing she could do that.

The Huntsman shakes his head. "My brother."

Emma comes to stand a little behind him but The Huntsman turns to her. "You can come closer. He won't hurt you."

While still very hesitant she takes a step forward so she's in line with him. She then bends to her knee and kneels beside them. She feels like she wants to question the connection; his brother but she doesn't know how to without sounding…well, rude.

His eyes look alive, The Huntsman's that is. Is that a smile she sees? It's rare but a smile all the same and complete joy written all over his face, unguarded, for the entire world to see.

"Your brother?"

She phrases it slowly, trying not to offend.

He nods but doesn't seem to want to elaborate, clamming up quite like he did the previous night when the subject of his parents came up.

"Are you okay?"

His face has changed, a distant far away look, but he nods. "Of course."

Emma studies the wolf more intently now, noting that one of his eyes is red as blood and the other is black as night.

She finds that odd as well but feels as if she shouldn't question it.

She stands. "I should be…heading back to the castle."

"Why did you follow me out here?"

He stands and turns to her, while the wolf stands beside him, giddily wagging his tail as The Huntsman places a hand on his head to calm him.

Emma is taken aback by the question and the abruptness in his voice.

"You seemed sort of spooked by seeing him again," she tells him. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Is she blushing? She feels like she's blushing and she feels really stupid for it.

"Really?"

What is that? He feels something? Impossible. He doesn't feel anything. Nothing. It doesn't matter that she seems to care for whatever reason. It doesn't.

He turns to the wolf, a welcome distraction from the warm feeling flooding his chest; he shouldn't feel anything, he shouldn't. "I'll come see you tomorrow, I promise."

The wolf howls happily, as if he's saying 'yes' and Emma finds it fascinating, and it makes her more determined to get some answers about this man and his life prior to working for the Queen.

The two begin the trek back to the castle in silence but not before The Huntsman surprises Emma, with one of those rare smiles.

Chapter Text

When he smiled at her, Emma had the feeling it was the first time he had done so, genuinely, in so long. She imagines what his life must have been like to cause him to become so emotionally closed off until she remembers the stories she has heard about the Evil Queen. From what she knows her mother's former step-mother is a woman who runs on nothing more than vengeance, for something her mother has never divulged with her. Emma knows enough to know that her mother is connected somehow anyway.

Both her parents are hesitant to recall anything about their past with the Queen, instead focusing on the future, even if that threat seems to still loom ahead. Emma has eavesdropped and she has heard that their battle with her is not over yet. She dares not ask or share her worries for her parents and their kingdom, but they are there, in the back of her mind always lingering. They had only been intensified by the arrival of The Huntsman, the man who had both saved her life twice and also used to work for the Evil Queen.

She wonders what she must have had on him or what she must have done to him. Those awful rumours surface to the fore of her mind once more; terrible tales of people, men, women and children murdered for the woman's own gains, others thrown aside and used like toys, in all forms of horrible torture. A shiver cascades down her back. The thought of someone being that cruel worries her.

The sun is rising, Emma notes, and she wonders how long she lay in bed, just contemplating all of this. Sitting up, she stretches her arms and yawns, removing her covers and placing her feet on the cool carpet. This room, an expansive, but cosy one, had been hers since birth. It had been her nursery, the place she took her first steps, said her first words, and where she and her mother had prepared for her first ball. Many happy memories were contained in this room, even in the midst of so much uncertainty. As a child she had never understood it and while sometimes she could almost resent her parents, she appreciated them for their strength more.

Her handmaidens help her dress – or they help as much as she allows them as she now feels she is perfectly capable of dressing herself – and then she dismisses them. She looks in the mirror and combs her blonde locks back but the curls still persist around her face. Walking over to the window, she looks down at the perfect view she has of the palace gardens. She smiles as she notices that a fresh blanket of snow has fallen and she recalls the walk she and The Huntsman took in the palace gardens two nights ago.

As she thinks of The Huntsman, she also remembers yesterday when he bolted off upon seeing that wolf outside the marketplace. It had been a friendly wolf and hadn't attacked even when many people were around. It actually appeared as if it was waiting for The Huntsman to follow him, to recognise him. Emma had realised suddenly that the wolf was the same one from two years ago, the one that The Huntsman had fondly spoken to the first day they met. He had been hesitant to say anything else about the wolf, and still hadn't explained how he was his 'brother' yesterday when they had been walking back to the palace.

Her father had been angry, and had asked the guards to escort The Huntsman back to his room while Emma had received a stern lecture and warning from her parents about the dangers of running into the woods like that. Once more, Emma had accepted it; even with a twinge of annoyance – it wasn't like she was alone – and had retired to her room early. She hadn't even spoken to The Huntsman about it and she hoped that he was still here. She would've hated to be the reason he was banished from the castle.

With this in mind she leaves her room and hopes that he is there at breakfast. She doesn't even think about the increase in pace, as she speeds down the stairs or the way that her heart is wildly beating in her chest. As she opens the door and looks around she feels it drop as she sees that her parents are at the table but The Huntsman is not.

She looks behind her at the doors that grant entry to the palace; could he really have left without saying goodbye?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What do you mean you can't him to me?" Regina glowers at the Magic Mirror as she hisses her words. "I demand that you show me The Huntsman!"

"I am trying, Your Majesty," appeases the Mirror, "but there is some sort of magic blocking any sort of connection."

"Do you have any idea what is causing it?" she asks, as she sits at her vanity and pulls out the smaller version of the Mirror. "He's never been untraceable before unless he's left the…"

She wonders for a moment if he has made a try for escape, out of this realm. That is the only way, she can think of, he would become impossible to find. But then she thinks and she knows he wouldn't. He wouldn't leave without getting his heart, or at least thinking he would get his heart back. He wouldn't dare.

She turns to the chest at the side of her vanity. She had decided, two years ago, when he had displayed that flicker of rebellion, that his heart was best kept beside her. He had been a flight risk in his first few years after she took his heart and she felt foolish for growing complacent in that fact.

Opening the lid slightly, she glances at the heart, glowing bright red. It would be so easy to…

She shakes her head and snaps the lid shut. She needs The Huntsman for this plan to succeed. This is the only way she is ever going to be happy again. It is all Snow's fault and soon that rotten girl will pay.

"I still can't seem to find him…"

Regina slams the Mirror down, causing it to crack. She stands and looks to the larger one. "I don't care what you have to do, find him," she implores, silently panicking as she sees her plan crumbling around her. She turns to leave the room.

"Where are you going, Your Majesty?"

She looks to the Mirror and smiles, a smile which masquerades her panic. "To see an old friend."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The smell of the fresh air, the chirping of the birds, the sound of crunching leaves and twigs under his feet. They are sounds he had no idea he had missed this much and yet he has. He has longed for them in every quiet and cold night in the Queen's castle. The Huntsman looks down to his companion and smiles when reminded that he has been reunited with his wolf brother – the only family he has ever known. In a world where humans judged him mercilessly, it is only the animals who understood him.

The Huntsman is grateful to be back in his world, even if it can last for a couple of hours. When he and his wolf part ways today, it may be for the last time. The deadline for his mission is looming, Regina gave him a week and a half and as soon as he finally brings her the heart she has been looking for he will be the most hated and hunted man in the kingdom.

The only difference from then to now will be that the honourable animals will no longer be able to look him in the eye, as well as the humans. It is a great sacrifice he is making for his heart.

There is a rustling in the bushes behind them.

The two stop in the middle of the forest and turn towards the sound but nothing is there.

The Huntsman sends a look to his wolf but the wolf continues on.

They walk for a few more paces until there is another rustling.

This time The Huntsman places his hand instinctively over the dagger in his belt. He isn't sure what he's protecting himself from but he guesses it's from years of experience.

He is startled himself when the Princess steps out into the clearing. He instantly lets go of the dagger and lets his hand fall to his side. "Princess?"

" Emma, " she corrects.

He nods and then looks confused. "Why are you here?"

"Going for a walk," she ventures.

"I was under the impression the King and Queen kept you caged in, Your High- Emma. "

She gives a self-satisfied smile as he corrects himself. "They were strangely lenient this morning." Confusion crosses her face as well as his. She shrugs. "You left early this morning. I was wondering… why? "

He looks down at the wolf, while it nuzzles itself against The Huntsman's leg affectionately. "I promised him."

"Oh. Does he have a name?" asks Emma. She's still unsure in taking a step towards the wolf. The animal hasn't been dangerous in the few meetings she's had with him but she can never be quite sure.

The Huntsman picks up on her hesitance towards his wolf companion and he can understand where she is coming from. The two of them have always been on the fringes of society – or had. It's astounding how quickly he's picked up bits and pieces from his life before Regina in only a matter of days.

"Not that I know of," he admits. He strokes the wolf's grey fur absent-mindedly. "We were raised together. I was never given a name, and neither was he. We've never appeared to need them."

"So The Huntsman isn't your name?" questions Emma, as she takes a step closer.

He shrugs. "More like a title she gave me," he remembers aloud. He is aware of his bitter tone and shakes his head. If Regina heard him talking out of line like that…He almost shudders. He knows she has eyes everywhere; the palace, the forest. There is a phantom pain where his heart used to be as if Regina does know and is reminding him of his place; or maybe he is just imagining it?

"What's wrong?"

"It's…uh…nothing," he lies, clenching his teeth until the pain subsides, which it does in only a matter of moments, confirming that it was all in his head.

"So you never had a name? "

"I suppose I may have…once," he replies as they begin walking through the forest. Bravely, Emma had closed the gap between them and is now walking in step with both wolf and man. The wolf occupies the space between them.

The Huntsman looks across at the blonde haired princess as he tries to further to answer her questions. He wonders why he thinks he owes her an answer in the first place.

She doesn't want to seem as if she's prying or being too nosy but she is curious so she ventures her next question delicately. "What about your parents? They didn't give you a name?"

He clenches his fist so much so that his hand starts to hurt. He continues the action repeatedly for a few moments until the last remnant of anger dies out. That question transported him to the seven year old boy who, all those years ago, would watch the other kids playing in the forest, as their fathers would swing them up on their shoulders, or their mothers would hold their hands and tend to their scraped knees.

"My parents weren't parents; they may have given birth to me but they left me out in the woods, on the coldest winter night." He doesn't voice his other thought, that one voice that tells him that they wanted him to die.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't…I mean I wouldn't have…If I had known…"

"Don't, Prin- Emma, " he insists. "They had their reasons," he says with a resigned sigh. "I don't know why they did it but I don't know if I'd ever want to know anyway."

"Some part of you must want to know," she asks, as if it she hadn't meant to voice the thought out loud. "I mean…I'm sorry…"

"The wolves took me in, raised me as their own, until just he and I survived," he gestures to the wolf, "and from that moment we were inseparable until…"

"The Evil Queen," Emma answers.

He only nods, not sensing the need to elaborate.

She's about to ask him how he found himself in her guard, when she finds that they've somehow managed to walk to the mines. And as fate would have it, outside the mines stand Red and Grumpy. Her godparents seem to be having an intense discussion about something.

"Oh, Emma!" Red sees her first and waves, as she walks over to the two. "Do your parents know you're out this morning?" She raises her eyebrows, as if to say she will rat the young princess out if this is not the case. "And don't lie to me." As an aside to The Huntsman, she boasts, "I've always been able to tell when she's lying. Of course, she's exactly the same." Red also notices the wolf and bends down to pet the creature, a glowing smile on her face.

Emma gives a smirk. "Like a superpower," she says with a wink.

Grumpy soon joins the trio and after giving an apprehensive look to The Huntsman, hugs his goddaughter. "We weren't following you this time, I swear," he says with his hands held up above his head. "Just decided to start early in the mines this morning."

"I know," Emma insists, as Red finally stands up, but still with a smile on her face, but then she tilts her head in a questioning manner. "But you two were arguing. About what?"

"When were we arguing?" Red asks, with a laugh that sounds almost fake and nervous.

"I have a superpower remember?"

Red folds her arms. "Even superpowers can be faulty," she tells the young princess. "Nothing of importance, Emma, I assure you." She gives a cheerful grin to The Huntsman. "I assume you'll continue with your residence in the castle?" When he nods, she smiles again. "Well, make sure she gets home safe then."

The Huntsman nods while Emma groans. "Red…I can take care of myself."

"I know, I know," she says. She turns to Grumpy and nods to him. "Back to work?"

"Back to work," grunts the dwarf. He gives The Huntsman a quick look and both he and Emma are sure they hear the words 'trust some pretty boy…' thrown around in the conversation.

Emma laughs and The Huntsman almost does too until he stops himself and realises that he can't afford to get in too deep here.

Pain clutches at his chest again and he almost thinks it's Regina but then it's different this pain; and not really like pain at all.

"I guess we should be getting back to the castle," Emma suggests. She looks up. "I guess it's almost time for lunch and then I have a lesson with mother."

"A lesson?" The Huntsman asks, as he gestures to the wolf to follow them, which the animal already does readily.

"Archery," Emma explains. "After my," she searches for the right word but can't seem to find it, "escape," she settles on, "two years ago my parents decided that if they couldn't keep me in then they'd have to make me better suited for outside."

"I thought you were already capable."

"Really? Tell that to them."

"Hmm, maybe I should see how good you really are, how much you've improved?"

"Really?" she challenges. "My lesson is after lunch." She shrugs. "You could see for yourself?" Is it noticeable how hopeful she is that he'll say yes?

He nods to say he will take her up on her offer.

They walk on in silence until they come to that all familiar clearing. The Huntsman bends down to the wolf's level and strokes his fur, murmuring something and smiling sadly. Before the animal wanders off into the bushes, it pads up to Emma, and stands in front of her.

"He obviously likes you," comments The Huntsman. "Don't be afraid." He kneels beside her and she follows suit. "Just stroke his fur. He won't bite, I promise."

"And if he does?" she contests.

"Then have me beheaded for my crimes." He hardly thinks about what he says until it's out of his mouth and while Emma shakes her head it gives him a bitter taste in his mouth to think about the fact that that bounty will be on his head when his deadline is over.

With a degree of uncertainty Emma slowly lifts her hand but eventually glides it over the wolf's fur. She smiles. "Good boy," she tells him, as he laps up the attention.

The Huntsman stands first, trying to get some distance between himself and the Princess. He doesn't like the way that she has made him smile today, or almost laugh, or gave him that pain in his chest that's not really a pain at all. And when he says he doesn't like it he means he likes it too much. Too much for someone who is tasked with the murder of herself and her family.

She stands. "Are you okay?" Genuinely concerned, she tentatively tries to step towards him but this time he is the hesitant one and so he steps backwards.

She nods in some sort of understanding. "Oh. I see. I'm sorry Huntsman."

Emma walks away and he watches her for a second, before walking steps behind her, wondering quietly what this all means and if he can really carry out the tasks that lay ahead of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Regina uses a simple cloaking spell, strong enough for one visit to the castle for a small period of time, long enough to talk to the man who has all the answers. The man who trained her, the Dark One himself.

His magic has long been immobilised, for almost thirty years, and he has become nothing more than a work of fiction in the minds of those in this land, a legend, a bedtime story parents tell their misbehaving children.

She's become much like that herself.

"I was wondering when I'd see you again dearie!" the imp, still as shrill as ever, declares. Regina rolls her eyes, thinking that three decades of imprisonment would have caused some sort of shift in mood. "I see that you did not heed my advice from the last time you met with me."

"I could not…" she admits.

"Ahh yes, I saw that," Rumplestiltskin comments. "You killed your dear old dad, cut out his heart, only to find it wasn't strong enough to enact my curse, right? Why was that now?" He sees how much he is getting under the skin of the Evil Queen. "Oh yes, because he was dying anyway."

"Enough!" His taunts make her raise her hand to him but he shakes his head and giggles.

"Oh no, dearie, you know you can't do that." He looks around the cage, and lowers his head, speaking in a lower tone. "This is my prison, sweetheart, magic is useless here." Another shrill, annoying giggle which causes Regina to stomp her foot in fury and sidle up to the cage.

"I have a problem and you're the only one who will know how to fix it."

"Oh a problem, you say? With what exactly. Unless you're trying to find another way to activate my curse. In which case," he leans forward, "you've missed the boat on that one by quite a while."

She shakes her head and gives a smirk in his direction. "I don't need your curse, Rumplestiltskin. I have a man on the inside now, right at the heart of the royal family." They're now face to face at the cage.

"Your Huntsman, I suppose?" Rumplestiltskin guesses. "You did a good job breaking that one, my dear, maybe not as good as a job as you-"

" Why can't I trace him? "

"Oh, you've definitely learned how to cut to the chase, haven't you?" replies the imp. He leans back from her and shakes his head. "I don't know."

" You don't know? " Regina asks, her patience wearing extremely thin now. "What do you mean you don't know? You're the most powerful being in this land. What can't you know?"

"Magic has its limits, dearie. You know that. Perhaps your Mirror is defective, maybe you need to go get a new-"

"Don't try me, Rumple!" She sees the imp smirking. "What do you know?"

Guards are heard across the hall and Regina scowls.

"Like I told you, I don't know. Perhaps he has found some sort of magic to evade you. Why did you come to me with what little you had of that invisibility spell instead of spying on him?" he questions.

"This isn't over," Regina hisses, and in a cloud of smoke she is gone, as guards rush down the corridor.

Rumple turns from them and paces his cage contemplatively. "Ahh yes, dearie, a man at the heart of the royals," he muses, with a wicked grin. "It's just beginning."

Chapter Text

Red and Grumpy stand outside the throne room, each of them nervously pacing. Red's cloak trails behind her as she furiously debates with herself, muttering the pros and cons over and over, while Grumpy walks in circles, silently contemplating the matter that the two are due to discuss with Snow and James.

Grumpy turns to Red. "We have to talk them out of this," he finally says and she holds her hands up, her expression one of 'if you can think of a way I'm in'.

He takes the silent challenge but can think of no option.

"It's what they think is best, for the kingdom, for Emma," she replies after a thoughtful pause. "We have to trust their judgement on this one."

Grumpy sighs. The combined wisdom of the King and Queen has meant that there have been few wrong turns in their leadership; the kingdom has prospered since they began their rule, but their next step is one he does not fully trust.

While Red is more of an optimist by nature, she is also unsure and there has never been a time when she has had major grievances about the decisions of her close friends, until now.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," adds Red, as she casts her eyes downwards. "Regina's forces grow more powerful, the darkness grows more powerful." She's felt it and she's heard the rumblings of it in the woods.

"The King and Queen will see you now," one of the guards says, his loud and booming voice throwing Red and Grumpy for a moment before they walk into the room.

They've hardly said their hellos when James asks, "What did he say?"

Grumpy nods.

James turns to Snow and while she looks apprehensive she takes a steadying breath. "And you're sure the cage-"

"The fairies are preparing to reinforce the magic but it will take time," Red answers. "The bonds are breaking, Snow, he's getting agitated, speaking about the curse and Regina."

"Are you sure you want to do this? We don't know how much the cage has weakened. It could be dangerous," Grumpy questions.

"We have no choice," Snow concedes.

"Regina's magic," James adds, "it is a constant threat on all of our lives. For all of Emma's life we have just been waiting for her to attack us; we're ready to finally end this." He notes the expressions on his friend's faces. "I understand your concerns-"

"You didn't care until The Huntsman showed up," Grumpy finally says, as if it's the only thing on everyone's mind and he's the only one brave enough to speak it aloud.

"Now wait, I didn't care? This woman's been tormenting us for the last three decades and I-"

"Of course he didn't mean it like that," interrupts Red. "He means that you've never been so active in trying to stop her until The Huntsman arrived. Why?"

Snow looks to her husband and he nods to her. "We don't believe his intentions are what they appear to be." She almost looks as if she doubts herself but then stands resolute. "My instincts have never been wrong about that man. I fear that the Queen did damage that is near irreversible."

"Then why not get rid of him now? Send him to the dungeons; get him out of the way."

James sighs. "We discussed that. But then we remembered that he saved our lives and whether or not it was genuine or not, he saved Emma's. He is thereby innocent until proven guilty."

Red and Grumpy look satisfied with that answer.

"Well, he says he'll meet with you at dusk. Today. Be prepared you two; it's been thirty years, that place is a breeding ground for resentment."

"Thank you Red," Snow says.

Red reaches out and takes her oldest friend's hand. "Do not worry about her Snow. She is as wise as you and James. The best of you two combined."

Another silent thank you is shared between the two before the four leave the throne room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Emma lines up another arrow, Snow carefully watches from the distance. "Watch your feet! Remember, shoulder width apart!"

Emma resists the urge to roll her eyes but does what her mother says regardless.

"Draw back to your cheek and-"

Emma listens once more and then sends the arrow flying off onto the red of the target board she had been aiming at.

"Very good," Snow says.

Emma can hear the smile in her voice and smiles herself. "Thanks." She looks around carefully, an action Snow detects.

"Looking for someone?" she teases as she joins her daughter and takes the bow and arrow quiver from her, both of which are hastily taken by a servant to be put back in their proper place. "You know, Red and Grumpy tell me that you and The Huntsman took a stroll in the woods today."

"Oh…yeah," Emma recalls. She still feels extremely tense about the events of that morning. One minute, the two of them had been joking, smiling, laughing, enjoying one another's company and then suddenly the entire mood had changed between them. He had seemed to rebuff her company almost and she had taken offense.

His moods seemed to change like that, she had begun to notice. Emma turns to her mother. "Why was he working for her?"

"Why was-" Snow begins absent-mindedly, but then she realises what her daughter is asking. "Oh…you mean why was The Huntsman working for Regina?"

Emma nods.

"It's a long story, sweetheart. And I'm not entirely sure if it's my place to tell you."

"But-"

"All I will say is that she blamed me for something that went horribly wrong in her past, just before she married your grandfather." The issue of her late father is still something Snow struggles talking about, especially since she had never recovered fully from the devastating blow of finding out he had been murdered by the genie he had called a friend – or at least that had been where the accusations had been directed.

The genie had disappeared, never seen or heard from again, and before she knew it, Snow was running for her own life. It was in that moment, when The Huntsman had raised his dagger, and she had witnessed the entirety of her short life flitting across her mind, that the idea of Regina being behind her father's murder had entered her mind and had frankly never left.

"What was that?" Emma questions eagerly. She and her mother now walk in step, Snow deep in thought.

"You're old enough now to know I guess." She takes her daughter's hand and leads her to the stables, the closest that she can find to a quiet place, which is away from the hustle and bustle of the castle.

Once they are seated, Snow tells her daughter. She tells her about Regina's One True Love, Daniel, a poor stable boy who worked on her parents' land. She tells her about the day Regina saved her life and that only a day later Regina was to be her new mother.

"I was ecstatic, Emma. I had never had a mother before. I thought everything was going to be perfect."

Continuing her story, Snow tells of the despair her younger self felt when she had found Regina and Daniel kissing, declaring their love for one another in the stables, only weeks before she was to be wed to her father.

"She talked of true love with such hope and light; saying it was magic, magic that created happiness. I didn't believe her at first but eventually…eventually I did."

Emma sits in shocked silence, at the idea of someone so cruel once being so kind, as her mother explains about Regina's mother, Cora, who went on to murder Daniel, in a horrible fashion that Snow cannot bear to describe.

"It was my fault," Snow says. Emma takes her mother's hand and shakes her head. "No, Emma, it was. I told Cora. I told her about them. She manipulated me but I still gave away the secret. I didn't know until years and years later the damage that one little secret that I didn't keep, had cost."

A sinking feeling appeared suddenly in Emma's stomach. She almost wished she hadn't started this now. This knowledge did nothing but intensify the fears that lay deep-rooted within her, that she had had since birth about The Evil Queen and what she was capable of.

"How does The Huntsman fit into this?" she asks, trying to get her mind off the more disturbing details of her mother's story. "Where does he fit into this?"

Snow looks up, and finds, to her utmost surprise, The Huntsman standing at the entrance of the stables.

"Maybe he will tell you himself."

The Huntsman stares blankly ahead at Snow but becomes more alert when Emma turns to look at him, with hopeful yet reproachful eyes. He believes this to be another test, much like his first night in the castle, when the cricket analysed him for the entire Royal Family to see.

Snow stands. "Remember you have a lesson with your tutor in half an hour," she says to her daughter, "and then we have to look over the preparations for your birthday celebrations next week."

Emma nods and she remains seated while she watches her mother stroll casually past The Huntsman, who doesn't leave, but instead sits on the seat her mother just vacated.

"Quite a strange place to have a conversation," he muses after an awkward silence passes over them.

Emma nods. "Yes, but sometimes it's the only place to really talk." She can't really say she did a lot of talking in her exchange with her mother. Mostly she had listened, quite taken aback and with a degree of sadness, fear and horror.

"I heard your mother telling you about her," The Huntsman begins, looking fairly uncomfortable.

"You say her name with so much resentment," Emma comments, and he suddenly realises that he had never noticed that before.

He figures that there must be some truth to it.

"What did she do to you and what does it have to do with my mother and what she just told me?" In a moment, Emma's expression has changed from her looking as if she's trying to process all the information just given to her, and she now looks fierce, and ready to interrogate him.

She truly has the look of her father.

"Why must you know?" challenges The Huntsman.

She doesn't give a verbal answer, only tilts her head to the side, like she is determined that this time she will find answers for her questions.

Backed into a figurative corner, he gives a resigned sigh. "Almost thirty years ago I was enlisted by The Evil Queen to pose as one of her late husband's – your grandfather's – knights and take your mother into the woods and…" he trails off, unable to think of how to explain it. "…to take her heart."

Exactly what he had feared happens. Emma leans back, looking terrified of him. And why shouldn't she, he thinks. He is the exact monster that she is imagining right now.

And worst of all, and he doesn't know why he does, but he feels like he has to prove to her that he is not. Or that he was not. That the man who did that twenty-six years ago was noble, and tried to help those he was tasked to kill, or help to kill, or-

"Why didn't you?" she asks. It's barely audible.

The Huntsman wrings his hands together. "I couldn't. Your mother was pure of heart, kind. She didn't deserve to die."

The words remind him of the conversation with The Evil Queen which ended in his own heart being mercilessly pulled from his chest.

Emma looks as if she can hardly comprehend this. "And my father? How did you save him?"

"She was going to execute him. I let him go and gave him his weapon, provisions, so he could get to your mother, after she was put under the Sleeping Curse."

That was a story of her mother and father she knew about. That the entire kingdom knew about. How True Love's Kiss, the strongest magic of all, had woken her mother from one of the most terrible curses imaginable, and then they had taken back the kingdom.

One more question still burned on the fringes of Emma's mind. "What about you?"

Nervously, The Huntsman continued to wring his hands together. "What about me?"

"Why are you so…young still?"

Unexpectedly, The Huntsman lets out a small chuckle. He then stops himself, eyes widening. He's not meant to feel…

"What's the matter?" Emma asks, at the sudden terror that washes over his face.

"It's nothing," he answers. Finally he looks at her and takes a deep breath before answering her other question, or he's about to, before the stable door swings open, revealing a stout woman looking out of breath and angry.

"Princess, I've been looking everywhere for you! Your lesson started five minutes ago."

Emma's eyes widen. "Oh…I-I'm sorry."

"And to spend it cavorting with men in the stables…People will talk, Highness," her tutor admonishes. "I expect to see you in the study in precisely two minutes time and if not I will be speaking to your mother and father."

Emma nods hastily. "Yes, Helene."

Helene shoots another stern look to Emma and then one of immense distrust to The Huntsman, before leaving the stables, keeping the door open behind her for good measure.

"You're what, twenty, twenty-one-"

"Twenty-two," Emma clarifies. "My birthday falls close to my father's so we have my celebrations a couple of weeks later," she further adds.

"And you still have a tutor at twenty-two?"

Emma shrugs. "It's not wrong to be knowledgeable, I guess. Besides, if I am to be Queen, I have to know about other kingdoms, their history, and their cultures."

The Huntsman shrugs back at her. "She seems nice," he says in relation to Helene.

Emma laughs, and the sound brings a smile to his lips.

Emma's previous question seems to have been forgotten and The Huntsman is relieved. How did you tell someone that you had no heart? That the piece of you that made you human had been taken from you by force by someone who used it in whatever sick game she had planned. Who was currently using it in this game that Emma wasn't even aware she and her family were embroiled in.

Somehow the air seemed heavy and he found it hard to breathe. For a moment it felt like the usual torture he'd undergo at Regina's hand but then the panic lessened.

Emma hadn't seemed to notice as she stood and nodded to him. "Anyway, I must go. You'll be at dinner tonight, won't you?" She doesn't add that she missed his presence at lunch, which he had declined an invitation to.

For a moment as he looks at her he considers turning down this offer also but her smile causes him to think for an extra moment. And in that moment he decides he wants to go, he wants to do this, and not because of the plans that Regina has, but because he genuinely wants to see her again.

Once she leaves, it takes what seems like forever, as he sits in the solitude of the stables, that that feeling has been growing and growing more and more since that second encounter in the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a high pitched giggling; the sound of a madman, as Snow and James, accompanied by Red and Grumpy, navigate their way down the corridor where the dungeon lays, in the old abandoned mine.

"Rumplestiltskin!" calls Grumpy. "The King and Queen wish to speak to you!"

This is met only by silence.

"Rumplestiltskin!" Grumpy calls again, moving forward slightly, shining his the light of the fire in front of him. "Show yourself!"

Growing tired of the silence, James steps forward, inching closer and closer to the cage, specially reinforced with fairy dust in order to immobolise the imp's seemingly limitless power.

He shines his own torch in front of the cage.

"Some of us need to sleep, dearie, how rude, how rude." There is a tutting noise and finally Rumplestiltskin reveals himself. "You're late. I almost thought you wouldn't show up. I would have been fairly disappointed."

"You know why we're here," James replies, his voice irate.

Rumplestiltskin dramatically rolls his eyes. "First her, now you, I'm definitely popular these days."

Snow steps forward quickly. "Her? Her who?"

"Who do you think dearie?" the imp teases. "Your charming ex-step-mother, of course."

"What?" Red and Grumpy both say as they step towards the cage, just steps behind Snow and James.

Rumplestiltskin gives a look of pause. "Oh wait…should I have said that?"

"What is she planning?"

"Some people think I know everything, don't they?" replies Rumplestiltskin. He turns and holds one finger up. "And aha! Of course I do. But all knowledge, as with magic, and my deals, well, they come with a price."

"You tell us what we need to know or I swear-"

Hands clasped to the bars, Rumplestiltskin peers his head forward, looking directly at James. "Your Majesty, you always question me on this. I understand why you continue to do so. You know everything comes at a price with me."

"James-"

"She's always been much smarter than you, dearie," comments Rumplestiltskin, directing his attention towards Snow.

"What do you want?"

"Only one thing," he leans forward, "a lock of your daughter's hair."

James looks at Grumpy and Red who stare back at him with equally as confused expressions. Snow closes her eyes, thinking, before snapping them open again. "Done!"

"Snow!"

"We have to find out," she implores to her husband, who looks shocked.

"Still your better half, I see," remarks Rumpelstiltskin. "So ask away, dearies."

"Regina, what is she up to? And what happened to the curse that she was planning to cast?"

Rumplestiltskin tuts at the King once more. "That's two questions. Luckily for you, I can answer them in one and since there's nothing else I need…I will answer them."

"Hurry it up, Rumplestiltskin," warns Grumpy.

"Manners, manners," the imp reprimands before giving a shrill giggle. "The curse didn't work because the heart she used to cast it was too weak to sustain it. A small patch of our world was sent into the realm where happy endings would cease to exist. But no one lived there. Nothing grew, it was a patch of land. It has been," he closes his eyes, trying to find the right number, "twenty-two years since this failed?"

James nodded.

"Oh thank goodness, I thought I was going rusty," Rumplestiltskin says before continuing with, "She believes she's finally found a way to enact her revenge, her final revenge on the pair of you and your daughter. Only," he laughs, "she has grown bitter, her heart encrusted deep in darkness, much like mine I suppose." With a thoughtful pause, which James is sure is there just for dramatic flair, the Dark One explains further, "and has forgotten that there are some forms of magic which have been pre-determined since the beginning of time, some forms which no obstacle can obstruct."

"The bond she cannot sever is one which has been formed in all of our worlds, all of our universes, much like the one that you two share," continues Rumplestiltskin. "What is it you two always say? I will always find you?" he asks sarcastically. "That aside, you two must look to the beginning." He turns to Snow. "Especially you dearie. Your beginning is the most important."

"How does that help us?!" demands James, drawing his sword. "I should just cut your hand off right now, like I swore I would the last time."

"I've helped you," Rumplestiltskin answers. "Just not in the way you would've liked and to that I say," he pauses, "bad luck."

"Let's go," Red says to the other three, casting one more look to the creature behind the bars before turning around, Grumpy at her heel.

James puts an arm around Snow and leads her away.

"And so you don't forget about our deal," Rumplestiltskin speaks up again, causing the royal couple to turn to him, "I foresee that the next week, amid the celebrations, will bring my words to light. I expect the girl's hair by morning."

"And if we don't?" contests James.

"These bars won't keep me contained for long. The fairies won't make the dust in time. I'm not a good enemy to have, Your Majesties, and I'll make more hell for you than Regina ever could dream of."

Chapter Text

The Huntsman finds himself in the woods in the dead of night. He hasn't been able to sleep as he keeps replaying his conversation with Emma in the stables over and over again in his mind. Nor can he shake away any of the feelings he has been having since he met her.

He finds it so strange. Humans are so used to their feelings, they take them for granted. It is something they never question. For him it is new, something he is relearning and he's not even sure why. He shouldn't feel, at least anything that isn't pain. He has no heart.

There is another problem keeping him awake, eating away at his mind persistently. The prospect of his looming deadline. Regina is expecting him back at her castle in a week's time, she is expecting him to report back that he has disposed of the royal family and he is now completely unsure as to how he would be able to fulfill such a task. Foolishly, he even considered coming clean earlier on that afternoon.

It was a stupid moment of weakness, one he fails to comprehend.

Roaming the woods is natural, it helps him to clear his head so he managed to evade the guards and find a way to sneak out. He's good at that at least.

With no real purpose he continues to walk until he finds himself at the disused mines where he had come face to face with, he believed they were, Emma's godparents only a day ago. In the dead of night he can hear a laugh, as if it's almost beckoning him towards the mine. At first he backs away from the noise, it's haunting, but almost familiar.

But then his curiosity grows. He notes that the guard who is meant to be keeping watch has fallen asleep so with a hesitant foot forward he begins to walk towards it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On his way back from the palace kitchens, in the silence of the night, James notices the library door is skewed open.

His first instinct is that something is amiss, and he pokes his head around the door, only to be greeted with the sight of his daughter pouring over a book, making notes and then studying another book as intently.

She looks tired but determined, an expression she has certainly inherited off of her mother.

Tentatively James walks towards her and she snaps her head up at the noise. She sighs with relief at seeing her father.

"You scared me," she admits.

James gives an apologetic look. "Sorry, sweetheart," he replies, sitting beside her at the table. "I was just wondering what you were doing with…" He picks up the books and the paper she is looking at and notices the titles, "…the old censuses?" He crinkles his nose in further confusion. He had thought she was studying at this time of night; this is even stranger.

Emma sighs and she leans back in her chair. "What are you doing awake?"

James chuckles. He knows she won't give him an answer until he gives her one. "Couldn't sleep," he confides. "I was just in the kitchens getting some water."

"What's troubling you?"

He's sure she's trying to deflect the attention from whatever she's doing back onto him but James decides to simply just play this game with his daughter. "A lot of things, Emma, a lot of things."

"I'm twenty-two you know," she reminds him. "One day I'm meant to rule the kingdom. Yet you and mother never tell me anything."

It's like he's being brought down to earth in a way.

"Because we want to protect you," he reminds her. "And there just some things you don't have to know, not yet anyway."

She looks as if she wants to press the matter further but after a moment of internal battle she decides to drop the issue. Instead she turns to her own project. "I was looking for The Huntsman's parents. Or at least some indication of who they were."

James feels his heart sink. "Why?"

"It's unfair what they did to him," she announces. "Leaving him to fend for himself when he was so young. Why didn't they want him? Why doesn't he want to know that? Why doesn't he want to find them?"

James can almost feel tears in his eyes, and a lump forming in his throat. He tries to push the thoughts away, tries to remind himself that he and Snow never had to send Emma through the wardrobe, that at the very last second they were given a reprieve.

He will never forget that wonderful moment, when Grumpy burst into the bedchamber, as he and Snow said their goodbyes to their daughter who was but five minutes old. With tears in his eyes, Grumpy had revealed that the curse hadn't worked. That the clouds had formed, the darkness had been heading for them, and then had dispersed.

But as much as he remembers that moment James still wonders what would have happened had he put Emma through the wardrobe as he and Snow had been tearfully planning.

Would she have wondered why her parents didn't want her when she was transported to a strange new world in a magical wardrobe?

Would she have wanted to know or would she have decided it wasn't worth it?

Would she have tried to find them while they were under the Queen's curse but failed?

Emma appears to notice the change in her father so avoids eye contact with him as she closes the books over. "But there's nothing, at least with what I can piece together," she pauses, "which admittedly isn't much."

James closes the books nearest him over. "Sometimes people don't want to be found. It doesn't mean we should give up, it just means we should look harder." He seems to struggle to find the right words for a moment. "But, Emma, just remember that there are many reasons why they could have done what they did." It's like he's not talking to her anymore; he's talking to a version of her.

He's talking to the version of his daughter that did go through the wardrobe on her own, when the Queen's curse threatened to take all they held dear. He's talking to the daughter that he loves with all his heart but who wouldn't have known that all her life. "They could've done it because they loved him and had no other choice." He almost knows that that makes no sense, especially in this situation, but he can't help but try and let her know somehow.

"Why would any parent leave their child to fend for themselves, even if it's for their own good? It makes no sense."

James has to stop himself from telling her all about the curse then and there. He has to stop himself from asking for her forgiveness for something he and Snow never did.

For something he will never know the outcome of.

"Come on," is all he manages, "let's get you back to your room." He takes her by the shoulders and she walks in line with her father, who wonders how he'll ever let go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So many visitors these days; so little time."

"Who's there?!" asks The Huntsman, as he shines a torch he found on one of the walls, towards the other voice he identified. "Show yourself?"

"I'm right here, dearie," the voice calls out into the dark. "Shine that torch just a bit to the right." When The Huntsman swings the torch right to the right, the voice sighs. "Gently," he stresses.

With more care, The Huntsman moves the torch to find a cell is illuminated, where someone stands behind bars. The scales of the man shine in the torch's light, his hands grip the bars, an eager expression on his face.

"Everything just falls into place sometimes, don't you think?"

"Who are you?"

The figure beckons him to come closer. "The man who can give you some answers," he promises, then he looks thoughtful. "Maybe not much of a man actually. Oh well." He laughs, one that sounds crazed, that of a man who has nothing to lose and perhaps everything to gain.

Quietly, The Huntsman steps forward.

"What's your name? Why are you here?"

"I'm surprised your mistress has never mentioned me," the other man says with a skewed grin. He gives a bow and smiles. "Rumplestiltskin, at your service, dearie."

It clicks into focus for The Huntsman then. This is The Dark One, the most feared magic user in the land. Regina doesn't even surpass him but not for lack of trying.

Rumplestiltskin leans on the bars of his cell. "Now, what's troubling ya?"

The casual way in which the imp talks unnerves The Huntsman. "It's nothing."

"You're in the middle of a mission for Regina, my dear, and yet you aimlessly wander the woods for hours. Tell me, Huntsman, does that sound like nothing? A true hunter always know's how to get rid of his prey.""

The fact that this creature knows of him, of his purpose, causes him to stumble in shock. He almost drops the torch but keeps his grip tight on it. "How do you know-"

"I know all about my enemies, my boy, and their…" he looks for the word, "pets."

The title causes The Huntsman to stiffen. "You can give me answers?"

"Oh but only for a price," he answers. "All magic comes with a price, Huntsman."

"Magic?"

"Why the future, seeing it, seeing the answer to your problems, of course."

"What kind of price?" He is wary; The Huntsman knows that the price for making deals with this man is almost mostly bad.

"A lock of your hair," he says.

Confused, The Huntsman walks towards the cage. "And what do you need that for?"

"I have my reasons," drawls Rumplestiltskin.

"The information first," demands The Huntsman.

Rumplestiltskin steps back from the cage. "I guess you're going to be waiting for a very long time for some sort of explanation as to why you're feeling, even without your heart." He shrugs. "That's a pity."

Before The Huntsman can respond there's a clattering of noise outside; the guard is waking up.

The Huntsman turns to Rumplestiltskin, aware that he should have known better than to try and make a deal with the master of deal making himself. "If I return tomorrow night with the lock of hair, you'll tell me?"

"I always honour my deals."

But there's a flicker of uncertainty in his face.

The Huntsman nods to him and quickly runs from the place, hastily hanging the torch where he obtained it and finding that outside it had only been the sleeping guard dropping his sword and shield to the ground.

He still decides that there is no use in returning to the cell. The sun is only hours short of breaking and he knows he has to get back to the castle. Hopefully the next night will bring him answers and give him some guidance in what to do next.

In the meantime he has to keep walking, even as he is weighted down by his seemingly-impossible task and the feeling of a heart that does not reside in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, James is surprised to find that the library door is once more open, but this time his wife is desperately looking for something, instead of their daughter.

"The beginning," she mutters to herself. "The beginning, the beginning."

James walks behind her, and waits under she turns to him. When she does she gasps in surprise and then gives a small, nervous laugh. "You scared me."

"Exactly what Emma said when I found her rooting around in her late last night as well," James replies, folding his arms.

"Why was she...?"

James shakes his head. "It's nothing serious, don't worry," he assures her. He doesn't want to tell her.

He's been wracked with guilt all morning and he fears that if he tells his wife all he'll do is transfer it onto her also. That is a burden she doesn't need to bear.

"What are you looking for?" he finally asks after a beat of silence passes.

She shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know," she concedes. "What did he mean?" She looks worried. "My beginning? A bond that cannot be severed? What does he mean?"

"Snow, Snow," James assures her. "Breathe."

She does so. But then the panic crosses her face once more. "He was so clear before. He knew that she was the Saviour, he told us that clearly, he told us of the curse, clearly. What is different?"

"Regina's power," guesses James. But when he sees the flicker of doubt intensify on her face he wishes he would have just stayed silent. He repeats, "Breathe."

She does so once more.

This has always been why they were so good for each other. In their individual moments of weakness they were each other's strength and while at times they would both worry, there was always one to pull the other back.

"Come," he says to her. He takes her hand. He's aware that there is some sort of deadline they have to meet, Rumplestiltskin said something about Emma's birthday celebrations being important, but he has to calm his wife down and at this moment that is the first and foremost thing in his mind.

She takes his hand and tries to force a smile, as he leads her out of the library.

They walk to their bedroom, a short distance away and he leads her to the balcony. The two stand in silence, listening to the calm and rhythmic beating of their hearts as they watch the hustle and bustle below. Preparations are already underway for the ball to commemorate Emma's birthday next week and everyone is busily rushing around.

Snow leans her head on her husband's shoulder as he kisses her knuckles.

He has to tell himself, in her moments of weakness, just as she does in his own, that everything will be okay, that they have to have the one thing that Regina could never take away from them, no matter what her plans; faith.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Regina tries yet another spell and yet again the Mirror is unable to show her The Huntsman. Enraged, she throws her spell book down on the vanity and lets out a sigh she has long kept held in.

"I don't understand," she complains, as she flicks through other images, but still the image of her Huntsman eludes her.

She is still sure that Rumplestiltskin is keeping some sort of information close to his chest but she is unsure what exactly this is.

She turns to the Mirror. She knows she's at an impossible impasse.

"What will you do next, Your Majesty?"

"Assemble my finest guards and my fastest carriages. I need some surveillance if I hope to find out what's going on."

"Wouldn't it be simpler to go spy on him your-"

"Of course it would be," she snaps, spinning around to face the Mirror. She walks towards it, anger rising within in, "but it could also be a suicide mission. I have not waited thirty years for this moment only to be caught by that wretched girl before I can complete my plan."

The Mirror is silent as Regina calls in her guards and gives them their orders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The words of the imp, Rumplestiltskin, are still weighing on his mind the next day, and The Huntsman can barely concentrate as he contemplates what the meeting with The Dark One that night will have in store for him and his future.

He lies awake for what seems like forever, thinking and thinking. How could this possibly be the same man that he had heard about in the legends and myth. The alcways-calm master of deals, now reduced to a maniacal man behind bars.

There is a knock on his door.

Perplexed he sits up, freshens up and dresses all as the knocking persists.

"Coming," he calls out.

He opens the door to find the princess standing there.

She looks almost relieved to see him.

"I thought you'd left again," she explains, as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, in what seems to be a nervous fashion.

He wonders why on earth she'd be nervous.

"And why would you think that?" he wonders aloud.

"You didn't show up for breakfast again," she points out. There's humour in her tone.

"I couldn't sleep last night," he reveals. "I…I guess I slept in."

She nods, as if to say 'same'. He's surprised by this.

"What was troubling you?"

"What was troubling you?"

"It was nothing," The Huntsman insists.

"Yes," agrees Emma. "It was nothing." She pauses. "Would you like to join me out in the courtyard?" she asks. "I was going to practice some archery this morning. You seem to enjoy it."

He nods. "I'd love to."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snow and Charming are still watching the world below them perched from their balcony when they notice their daughter, bow and arrows in hand, walking alongside The Huntsman.

The pair are smiling, laughing, obviously enjoying one another's company.

While Snow still senses something is off about the man, she can't help but see the quick bond that has formed between her daughter and himself.

She guesses that this is a result of the fact he has saved her life on more than one occasion. She sees how her daughter looks at him and how he in turn looks at her daughter but she has failed to say anything to Charming.

"We should invite him to the ball," she comments quickly.

Charming snaps his head round to his wife equally as quickly. "The Huntsman?"

She sighs. "I think Emma would enjoy his company there."

"She's to meet suitors, Snow."

Snow gives another sigh. While they have not been determined to find Emma a future husband and both are vehemently against the idea of an arranged marriage, they know that that time is nearing. They will not be around forever and the kingdom will soon need a new heir to the throne, not to mention the assurance that Emma is ready to be Queen.

They found that the idea of introducing her to various prospective husbands at her birthday ball was the best idea and a more subtle way of forcing her to get to know other royal dignitaries.

"But he's her friend."

Even when she says it she knows that there's more to it than that. She also knows she should cut her husband some more slack; he obviously knows too.

Yet neither say anything about it; as if they can wish the obvious truth away just by ignoring that it exists.

James kisses the top of Snow's head. "So be it," he replies, as they continue to stand in their silence.

As Emma watches The Huntsman line up an arrow on his bow and shoot, their conversation from the previous day is still present in her mind. She also wonders more and more about the question she posed him with that was left unanswered.

She sees how relaxed he is as he pulls the string of the bow and lets the arrow fly off onto the target, hitting the middle, exactly like he has before.

"So when you said you never missed…"

He turns to her and nods.

"So," she begins, as she goes to stand beside him, lining up her own arrow, concentrating, and then sending it off to the target, "we never got to finish our conversation yesterday. You never answered my question."

He begins to panic at that moment, wondering quietly how he can possibly get himself out of explaining this. But then he realises, with her looking at him so intently, a part of him wants her to know the truth.

But the other part of him is scared. What will she think when she realises he is a man with no heart – or at least a man who had no heart – as he realises that a main part of his cover is the lie that his heart now resides in his chest. It is a lie that, should he choose to confide in her now, he must carry with him to the end.

Maybe the lies and the deceit are what make him truly heartless.

"What question would that be?" he asks, deciding that feigning forgetfulness is the best alternative option.

"You saved both my parents' lives, years before I was born, before I was even a thought," she begins. "How come you're still...young?"

It's now quiet around them, too quiet and The Huntsman wonders where all the activity has gone, and he realises that it's all moved to a more central area of the courtyard. Apart from the few palace guards scattered here and there, he and Emma are alone.

With a sigh, he looks at her, straight at her, trying to desperately remember this moment, because afterwards she may never look at him in that way again – and the way she looks at him; it fills his entire being with hope, hope that maybe his life before meeting her isn't all that there is.

He knows it has to be and he's still trying desperately to stomp out any light that will inevitably only be taken from him as cruelly as it has been before. But he can't figure out how to exactly.

He's been trying not to cling to anything other than what Regina ordered and yet here he is; feeling, something that he never thought he'd be able to do again.

"Regina – the Queen – took something from me, after I spared your mother and since then I've frozen at this age," he states carefully. And then he is looking at her - just remember her face before she knows the monster, just remember her face, he tells himself. "She took my heart."

Chapter Text

It was as if all went silent around her, including him, and the only words ringing in her ears were 'she took my heart', 'she took my heart', 'she took my heart' over and over again.

Emma could only stare in shocked recognition, as he shuffled his feet nervously and kept his eyes glued to the ground beneath his feet. Emma kept glancing from the worried expression on his face, to his chest, where a heart did not beat.

Unless…

"I stole back what was rightfully mine and I escaped."

She remembered this from their second meeting in the forest, only days ago. "And your heart…you still don't have it?"

His eyes still focused on the ground, instead of her face, he shook his head. "I…I managed to get it back." He sounds hesitant but she puts that down to the silence that greeted his revelation.

"What did it mean? Not having a heart?" Without thinking she places a hand to her own chest, right over where her heart resides. She took it for granted, a part of her. It's unreal to believe anything otherwise, that that kind of magic does exist.

The Huntsman gives a shrug of his shoulders and a small nod of his head. "It meant I didn't age, I couldn't feel…"

He trails off as if there are other things he just can't bring himself to describe.

She doesn't know how to respond to this either but before she can say anything he turns and walks away from her anyway. She stands, bow and arrow still in hand, almost frozen to the spot. She can't speak, can't call after him. Something is stopping her.

He continues to stalk off into the castle, head down as if he's ashamed, and she wonders what kind of life he must have had and how much worse it must have been without a heart.

Or did he enjoy not feeling? Did he enjoy not worrying about others? Did he enjoy not ageing?

She wonders how she can possibly think that and it is at this point that she questions what she has been feeling. Is it real? Or just some silly hallucination she had concocted.

She believed that they had made some sort of real connection, that he had felt something, but can a man who had no heart – whether it was returned to him or not – feel anything? Had she been imagining the rare smiles he had sent her way, or how it had been so difficult for him to open up to her?

Had she been imagining what she had felt. Once more she gently touches her heart and wonders what this feeling is exactly. She has never felt it before, so what guarantees that it is real?

As she walks from the courtyard back into the castle, completely unaware of how much time has passed since The Huntsman walked away from her, she questions herself more than ever and her thoughts turn to her parents and what else they could have been keeping from her, what other mysteries lie beneath the stories of their youth of finding each other, again and again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James watches Snow, who is watching the empty seat at their dinner table. Eventually he turns his attention to the empty seat also, and stares at it.

Snow beckons to one of the guards. "Could you please ask Emma if she will be joining us tonight?" She sounds nervous. Both she and James had still been on their balcony, when they had witnessed The Huntsman walking away from their daughter.

They had, at first, thought nothing of it. It was only when Emma stood, for a short time afterwards, seemingly frozen to the spot, that concern had crossed Snow's face.

James had assuaged her fears at that point, trying to give any reason for it, and when Emma had finally began to walk back to the castle, they had decided to leave it alone.

Until now when their only daughter had failed to join them for dinner.

When the guard returns, bearing the news that the princess failed to answer the knock of her door, James immediately rises from his position, as does Snow, and both begin the walk up to her room, the same one that she has occupied since birth.

James taps the door lightly at first. "Emma, sweetheart, are you in there?"

No response.

Snow steps up this time, and giving the door a harder knock she demands, "If you're in there, you will answer this door right now!"

Snow didn't get angry often but in the rare moments she did, she was scary and a force to be reckoned with.

Panic wells up in both royals at the lack of a response but it dies down as soon as the door knob turns, and it opens, Emma, with an annoyed look on her face, standing there.

"Why didn't you come down for dinner?" Snow asks immediately.

Emma shakes her head. "I just…I wasn't hungry."

James steps forward. "Emma, what's the matter?" He wishes now he had taken Snow's worries as more only hours earlier.

"You knew he had no heart. You knew and yet…"

She sounds bitter, her tone full of unspoken anger and…resentment?

Snow and James are both taken aback and not entirely surprised at the same time. They had been expecting this since The Huntsman had crossed paths with their daughter and they had only believed it was a matter of time until these questions were brought to them.

"Let's go inside and speak about this…" Snow begins, and she takes Emma's arm and ushers her daughter inside.

James closes the door behind him when he enters and then walks to where Emma and Snow sit on the end of the bed. Taking a seat on the other side of Emma, he takes her other hand.

"Why couldn't you tell me? There's more isn't there? There are other things you aren't telling me."

James sighs and nods. "Yes. Yes there is."

He finds no reason to lie to her any longer.

"We didn't tell you about his heart because that was not our place," Snow replies. "It was his decision, and," she nods, "a brave one to tell you."

"Why is this really upsetting you, Emma?" James asks. "He has his heart back now…"

"Yes but what if-"She stops herself. She isn't sure of whatever feelings she has right now, telling anyone, much less her father would only serve to complicate matters further.

James senses not to ask her what she was about to say.

"And the Queen – Regina – she still, after all this time, wants us…" She can't finish the sentence.

Snow nods. She takes a strand of her daughter's blonde hair and tucks it behind her ear. "But we are not – nor have we ever – let her win. She is powerless, Emma, nothing more than an evil witch."

Emma doesn't reply to it, only looks down. "I'd like to be alone."

While both don't want to leave her alone, they hesitantly rise from her side. "If you need anything else, you know your father and I are always here, Emma, we always will be," Snow says, in an assuring tone, kissing Emma's forehead afterwards.

James nods in agreement with Snow's words and does the same, and soon enough the young princess is once more left alone with her thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He is in far too deep and he cannot seem to get himself out of this situation. He has done the one thing he had sworn to Regina he would not – and the one thing he never thought he would again; feel.

And the penalty for such a careless action is death at Regina's hands, for he now knows that there is no way he can take the lives of the King, the Queen, or, and especially so, Emma.

So there is only one path left available to him and he wonders if he'll make it back to the Evil Queen's castle before she finds out. It does not matter anyway. Either way he is doomed to die or to spend the rest of his never-ending forever under her thumb.

Regaining his heart in inconsequential now. Somehow he has regained the ability to feel without it, and he will only have to look back on these few days, in the company of the princess, to remember it.

But he is fresh out of hope for now.

Now he is wondering whether he should say his goodbyes, whether he should let her know, in even the smallest way, what kind of change she has made in him. And also whether he should be truthful in what his intentions were, before it was all turned on its head.

He figures that it is best not to dwell on such things.

That is until he comes face to face with the King, looking to be in a hurry, but evidently not as much as The Huntsman had hoped, for he stops to talk to him.

"Your Majesty," addresses The Huntsman.

James nods in acknowledgement. "Where are you off to, Huntsman?"

"I must thank you, and the Queen, for your kindness in taking me in, but I fear that I have outstayed my welcome." The Huntsman braces himself for the smile that will grace the King's face but it never comes, the only change in his expression is that of some sort of…concern? The Huntsman continues, "I told Em-the princess," he corrects, "about the loss of my heart."

James only has a small smile. "And you believe she cares so deeply about it?"

The Huntsman nods. "I know she does."

The man in front of him only shakes his head. "You have your heart back now, do you not?"

The Huntsman can only give a tentative nod. At points he has forgotten that the royals are still under the illusion that he stole back his heart, and has had to remember quickly in order to avoid any unnecessary suspicion.

James only gives an encouraging smile. "Then you should talk to her, or at the very least say goodbye." James takes a step forward. "But I would not leave without doing so, Huntsman," this is when something slightly dangerous flashes in James eyes, and he sees the love that a father can have for his daughter, "because if you break her heart, my men will not be sent to find you, for I will do it myself."

James steps back now and The Huntsman is wholly unsure of where they stand now. He heard a threatening warning but he also sees an uneasy truce as the King holds out his hand.

The Huntsman shakes it, and, the King walks away.

Letting out a sigh, The Huntsman looks towards the spiral staircase which leads to the corridor where Emma's room is situated.

Still determined to leave, he is now more inclined to say, at least, a goodbye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he knocks the door there is no answer. When he knocks the door a second time there is no answer.

He is not concerned; he knows there is a good reason for her avoidance of him. She must've known this was coming.

Taking a deep breath, he knocks once more and when there is still no response, he begins to speak, "I understand if you're still shocked. It's not an easy thing to hear, that a man can be heartless, literally." There's still nothing. "And I can understand why you have no wish to speak to me. I never told you." There are other things I haven't told you either, he thinks but he resolves not to speak of things, such as the plan, when there is no need. He figures there is also no need to drag this silence out any longer and there is a rush of bravery. "Just know that you…that I…"

The words never come.

"I'll be going now. Goodbye."

He knocks once more, he wants to see her face one more time, for some reason he can't quite fathom, but she does not answer.

It was a foolish wish anyway.

He turns from the door and begins walking up the corridor. He is halfway up it, when she calls out to him.

If there had been any other noise around them, he may have not heard it.

"Huntsman," she repeats and he turns.

"Yes," he asks simply, as if he hadn't spilled what part of his soul he still had to her.

"Wait." She steps forward and looks as if she's thinking of what she can say. "I should have said something this morning," she admits. "I just didn't know how." He's now looking at her, a clear contrast to how he avoided her gaze earlier on. "You can feel, you were laughing with me today, you smile, you cried when you found your wolf-brother…You have a heart."

That is a lie, is his only thought but he cannot dispute it.

"It does not matter. I lied to you." I still am. "I…I will leave…"

And in that moment he swears he's going to, and he will never return, he will never have the chance to do so whether Regina keeps him alive or not.

"Please stay."

There is a look in her eyes, and he is sure it would be mirrored in his own if he could see them.

"Please."

It is not the best decision. It surely will only end badly but when she's standing in front of him, and she wants him to stay, finally somebody wants him, he's not a helpless child they can throw away or a soldier to be used at their disposal, he can't think straight.

She has this effect on him.

He can't find the words, he can't tell her the risk or how grateful he is or anything. All he can do is nod.

"Thank you, Emma."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is only in the dead of the night that he dares sneak out of the castle that night. He had almost forgotten about his deal with Rumplestiltskin, until he had agreed to stay in the castle, against his better judgement.

Then his thoughts had turned to the imp and what he could tell him in order to explain why he could feel anything at all, even without a heart.

As he walks through the quiet and dark forest, he contemplates how much could change after tonight. He dares to even hope that he may finally find a key in his fight against Regina's control.

But perhaps that is a hope too far.

While his thoughts are on Regina, he wonders how she hasn't caught onto his change of mind already. He has expected the familiar sensation of his heart being squeezed for days now and yet no such pain has overcome him. He's aware that it could be around any corner but he wonders why she is stalling. Can't she see what he is doing?

Once inside the cavern used for the creature's cell, he calls out, "Rumplestiltskin!"

"I was hoping you'd come back, dearie," comments the imp from the shadows of his cell. "Come into the light, Huntsman."

He strides forward until he can see Rumplestiltskin, hanging on one of the bars of the cell. When the man behind the bars notes this he climbs down and does a mock bow.

"Now, about our payment."

The Huntsman, with a grimace, pulls a lock of hair from his head, and hands it over through the cell.

Rumplestiltskin smirks and places the lock into a pocket of his jacket.

The Huntsman does not ask what he needs this for. "Now, my answers."

Rumplestiltskin leans forward. "The princess. She is the key to all this. The beginning and the end. She is love in its purest form. Her heart," he gives a smile that continues to emphasis the fact that The Huntsman does not have one, "is magic, and brings a protection to all around it."

"What does that mean for me? Why can I feel, around her?"

"What I do know is that she blocks you from Regina's view. As long as you stay close to her, the Queen cannot keep magical tabs on you. She cannot see you."

"And why I can feel?"

Rumplestiltskin leans backwards at this question. "Your heart was taken by magic and only the most powerful of magic can break that sort of curse."

"And what kind of magic is that?"

"Now that, Huntsman, is another deal entirely."

The Huntsman quickly walks up to the cell. "What else can I give you?"

"What else do you have to give?" Rumplestiltskin questions. "Your heart?" He shakes his head. "Your humanity? Your dignity. No, I would say the Queen has those, wouldn't you agree?"

"I swear…"

Rumplestiltskin rolls his eyes. "Really, I do wish people would stop with the threats," he drawls. "It gets so boring after a while."

The Huntsman steps back but then he hears the hushed voice of noises outside, a man first, then another man, followed by two females speaking.

"Ahh, it appears my other outstanding deal is about to be honoured," Rumplestiltskin points out. "I'd say run, Huntsman. I doubt being seen with me would help your already suspect position in the minds of the King and the Queen."

"But-"

He needs to know why he can feel. He needs to know what this magic is.

Rumplestiltskin shakes his head, which cuts him off, and suddenly he knows he has to run. If he's found here then the consequences would be horrible.

He says nothing else to the imp and makes his exit from the cavern, just in time to slip behind a rock. The guard who had been stationed here the night before is now wide awake, talking to a cloaked figure.

A figure with a red cloak.

He notes in a second that it is Emma's godmother, Red, followed by her godfather, Grumpy he believes the dwarf is named. And his next surprise is seeing Snow White and James hurrying after them into the cavern.

The Huntsman is sorely tempted to stay in his position, primed to eavesdrop but when the guard appears to notice someone else's presence in the vicinity he decides not to take the chance.

The second the guard turns his back, The Huntsman flees into the night, as the haunting laughter of The Dark One creeps throughout the forest.

Chapter Text

With the new knowledge gained from The Dark One the previous night, The Huntsman decides to accept what has become a daily invitation from Emma – to attend breakfast with her and her parents as a guest – for the first time. As he descends the stairs he is wary and cautious, and he is running over, in his mind, the million and one ways this entire thing could all go wrong.

He knows he must think of some sort of plan, an alternative to the mission that Regina has tasked him with before his deadline is over. He also is aware of the fact that he must find some way to tell Emma. But he is terrified.

He remembers the silence and the way she looked at him – and it wasn't with disgust, but it wasn't with pure acceptance either – when he told her that Regina had taken his heart. He cannot even fathom how betrayed she will look when he tells her of his original purpose in coming to the castle – in 'saving' her for a second time.

But for now the biggest challenge is breakfast and all his worries seem to fade – and this is an impressive feat – when he finds Emma standing outside the dining room, seemingly searching for someone. When her eyes meet his she stops and smiles, and he realises that she was looking for him.

It makes that void in his chest that should not feel, lift when he sees her smile, knowing that it is for him. All Regina has ever met him with is lust or loathing. Emma's smile is genuine, and pure, and hopeful. Her smile, he decides, is everything good in the world, and he wishes not only to see it more, but to be the reason for it.

"Good morning," she greets. "I trust you slept well."

Not at all.

"I did, thank you," he says in reply. "Yourself?"

She nods and beckons to the door. "Shall we?"

It is his turn to nod a reply. As they enter the dining room, he remembers last night and seeing Emma's parents go to visit the Dark One after he had done so. Their voices had been incredibly hushed, impatient, as Red had spoken to the guard.

He had only stood for a minute listening to their clipped tones but now they rush back to him, as he wonders, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he takes a seat beside Emma, whether or not Rumplestiltskin told them about his visits.

Snow only smiles, while James attempts one, as they send him their greetings of 'good morning' and 'did you sleep well?'. There is no indication that they are any the wiser concerning his late night meeting with the imp and he tries not to breathe an audible sigh of relief.

As he eats, but not too much – his stomach is in knots, uncomfortable in his own deceit, he guesses – Snow asks him what his plans are since he decided to stay.

James also sounds interested in this.

"Well," Emma begins, and The Huntsman sends her a quick look of gratitude, "I was going to go into the village today. If you wish you can join me?"

The Huntsman looks first to her, and smiles, nodding before seeking approval from Snow and James. Snow nods gracefully while James shrugs his shoulders. "I see no pressing reason why not." He keeps his eyes intent on The Huntsman while he takes a sip of his drink and then places the glass back on the table.

Keeping his eyes on his plate, The Huntsman knows he is trying to make the warning from the previous day stick.

And it does so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma is surprised when her father tells her that he will not be sending a huge patrol with her and The Huntsman to the village; only one guard will accompany them. Emma believes this is reasonable and asks, as an aside to her mother, who chuckles in reply, if her father is well.

"Of course, dear, of course," Snow adds with a graceful smile. "He just thought that you can handle yourself. That's all."

Emma doesn't quite believe it – her father still has the faintest spark of mistrust in his eyes when he looks over to The Huntsman who stands beside her – but she's quite content to take the offer that is being presented to her.

Her father and mother hug her before she departs and she promises she'll be home by nightfall at the latest.

As they watch her and The Huntsman go, James grips Snow's hand and is surprised to find her doing the exact same thing, searching for some sort of comfort.

Their visit to Rumplestiltskin to pay his price had been interesting and had brought some new facts to light – ones which neither could make sense of – or could but were afraid to, they weren't sure what it was.

The imp had been vague once more, after James had handed over the lock of Emma's hair - taken carefully by one of her handmaidens as she slept - reluctantly. The King and Queen had been about to leave, Grumpy and Red with them, when the man behind the bars had mentioned, in a murmur, something about 'The Huntsman'.

James had been sure he had heard him correctly and when Snow gave a slight gasp he knew he had.

That was where their trust had been placed. In one of the darkest magic users of all time. In a man they had kept imprisoned for almost three decades. In an imp who could see the future.

James hears Rumplestiltskin's words resounding in his head in the present, as he watches her daughter walk away. "The princess is tied to him just as he is tied to her."

Snow had looked down, as if she knew that was the truth, as if she knew that this was coming all along but James hadn't believed him. Why would Rumplestiltskin give away information of that nature without a price?

But he hadn't given a reply. He had only rephrased his words from their meeting beforehand, when the deal had first been struck. He spoke of the bond once more, the bond that could not be severed, the bond similar to the one that James shared with Snow.

And both knew in that moment what it all meant, what at least that vague answer led the way to.

But the imp would not confirm anything. For whatever reason he kept the rest of his answers close to his chest, he smirked at them and sneered when Snow dared, quietly, to ask him the most important question of all.

"True love?"

No reply came from the creature, and Snow and James were only left to look at each other in complete uncertainty, as he lurked back into the shadows of his cell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their conversations are no longer quiet and full of pregnant pauses, she no longer has to constantly wonder what he is thinking and he finds that he does not worry when he is with her. They calm and challenge each other more and more each day.

After a stroll of no more than twenty minutes, the pair, accompanied by the guard behind them, arrive at the village, a quaint place where children run around, screaming and laughing and playing, and where men and women alike discuss their jobs and responsibilities but still smile for the lives they lead.

Emma loves the hustle and bustle of it all. Of course living in the castle, she is used to such a thing but not in this volume. It excites her, the adventure and the thrill. She loves her life for all it is but if this had been the hand she had been dealt, a quiet, simple life, she probably wouldn't have complained.

Well, how is she to know?

The Huntsman watches her face light up and admits he sees the appeal in what she explained to him on their way here. She spoke of a small place where you knew everyone, where they all knew you, and no one had many bad words to say about each other.

He sighs, for it's only a life he could have once had. He often thinks about what would have happened had he rejected the Queen's summons to meet with her that fateful day where she tasked him with bringing her Snow's heart.

But then he also realises that he would have never been accepted into a place like this; a community; a family of families, because – prior to saving Snow White, prior to seeing that he did see some good in people – he never would have wanted it either. He would have been content to grow old in the forest, with his wolf-brother for companionship, to die when nature deemed it fit.

He feels something warm slip into his hand and he looks down to find its Emma's hand. She only looks up at him and shrugs.

He finds it strange that the first thing to emit from his throat is a chuckle, but he smiles anyway and he thinks that smile could have lasted if only…

"It's him."

He's grown up with a keen sense of hearing, invaluable for hunting and he can hear the murmur from a woman, standing at a tavern door, to one of the patrons, who tucks their small child closer to them upon seeing him.

Emma seems oblivious to the whispers and the judging looks cast his way; until they come to a stop when a boy stops in front of her. She bends down and receives a flower from him and she smiles, thanking him. The boy is about to walk away when he looks up and sees The Huntsman, and his face changes to a mask of terror.

The Huntsman's fear is confirmed; he's not only looked down upon by the elder townspeople as the 'recluse who lives in the woods with the wolves' but the children know him; and they know him by quite a different guise; The Evil Queen's Huntsman, a man incapable of feeling, reduced to a character in a tale of good and evil, all for the things he has done in the name and fear of the Queen.

Emma notices the boy's expression and bends down to him once more. "You don't need to be scared," she tells him. But the boy does not listen and instead runs off, and again, the townspeople fix him with their best glares; asking why he is there, asking why he is there with the princess, asking why he is holding hands with the princess.

In an action he regrets, he pulls his hand away from Emma's and she nods sadly, as if to say she understands.

"Come on," she says, "there's something I want to show you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What is this place?" he asks.

Emma grins and turns to him, trying her best to forget the events that transpired at the entrance to the village. "The library," she replies. "Every book ever written…give or take, I guess." She gestures him over to one section. "See, all here."

"What are they all…about?"

"Anything really," she replies. "There's stories about adventure, romance, family, people who are alive, people who are dead, people are who real, people who aren't."

She picks one, and smiles.

"What's it about?" he asks. She shrugs.

"I don't know, that's the fun of it." She smiles once more. She places it back into its place and continues to walk.

"Where are we going now?"

Emma seems to tense at this point. "I actually had a reason for asking you to come with me today," she reveals. She turns to face him. "I've been doing some research, using the castle library and censuses…"

Her expression is now that of anxiety while The Huntsman just looks at her with a searching look on his face.

"And…?"

"I was looking for your parents."

Emma sees his face falling, and he closes his eyes. She wonders how mad he'll be at this revelation, at this foray into a life he may have never even wanted to know about.

He speaks after, what Emma presumes, is an eternity of silence. She feels her heart speed up in her chest nervously at what he will say. Opening his eyes, she's surprised to see some flicker of joy in them.

Or is that joy?

Is she mistaking it for joy?

"Why?"

She understands why it's a flicker, because he doesn't quite trust what she's saying. "I've always tried to find people. I guess it's because of my parents," her attempt a weak joke goes over his head. She continues hastily, "and I…I just thought if you wanted to know..."

"Why?" he repeats.

She steps closer to him. She takes a moment to be relieved that they're the only two there, the guard standing watch outside. "Because you deserve to. Don't you think so?"

For a minute he thinks about her words and then takes a deep breath because he honestly doesn't. "And if I say I don't want to know?"

She shakes her head. "Then you don't have to."

"Can I just…think about it?"

"I haven't found everything yet," she confides in him, "but I think with your help I could but only…only if you want to."

"Thank you, Emma, thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He decides to leave the life-changing task of finding his parents for another day. He tells Emma after spending half an hour browsing books, and thinking about it. It just doesn't feel right, he feels unprepared and emotionally raw.

But he does want to know.

And it's amazing that after almost fifty years of hating them – even working for the Queen, he still thought of them, he thought of them almost every day - for what they did, he still needs to know the why of it all.

"Do you think they lived in this village?"

He asks her this as they ascend the stairs to the library foyer. She nods. He asks why and she shrugs.

"A feeling?" she ventures. "What do you think?"

"I wouldn't even know where to begin."

He's talking and walking at the same time, not watching where he's going, his head jumbled, as they walk out of the library that he knocks into someone.

At first he thinks that that's all he needs, someone else, perhaps even another child, to fear him and he quickly apologises to the person, who turns out to be a woman, who he assumes to be somewhere in her early forties. She says that she's fine and stands, and then she sees his face and smiles.

"You saved my family's lives once."

Shocked at the quick and random comment, he blinks furiously, and then looks to Emma, who smiles, and then he gives the woman one more incredulous look.

"Excuse me?"

"I remember it well…" she comments, nodding her head. "It was twenty years ago, I was twenty-four. My husband became a target for Regina. He wanted to leave her guard and she sent you to kill him instead."

The Huntsman remembers it now, vividly.

He had found the small cottage and tapped on the door. While he didn't feel right doing this, orders were orders and the man was to be killed. There were whimpers on the other end of the door and a man's hushed voice, followed by a woman's desperate plea.

When the door opened The Huntsman was faced with the face of one of Regina's newest recruits who had decided quickly that he did not want to be a part of her plans. The man stood straight and proud, and The Huntsman saw the courage in him that he felt he would never have.

A child stood to the side in his mother's arms, as the woman gently soothed his quiet sobs, and also met The Huntsman's eye. There was something in her eyes which was familiar and for a moment he remembered the reason he was standing there. Because once upon a time he had spared someone else, and they had given him the exact same look.

He spared them, told the man to get his young family to safety, to a village well beyond the hills and away from Regina. There had been thank yous but The Huntsman had left quickly, trying to get the image of the crying child out of his head.

It was one of the acts of mercy that he had carried out that Regina had never found out about in the end.

"Really? You did?" Emma questions, looking at him with pride.

When she looks at him that way it makes him want to continue to be better, to be that same man twenty years ago.

"You haven't aged a day since then," notes the woman with a confused expression.

The Huntsman gives a strained nod in reply to this.

"Magic," the woman guesses with a small smile which seems friendly, if perhaps still a little perplexed. "I fear I still owe you a debt of gratitude for that day."

The Huntsman bows his head. "You seem to be living a happy life. That is enough to know that what I did was the right thing that day."

Even as he says it, he has always known deep down that it was the right thing to do that day and he has never regretted it. He recalls it was back in a time where he could still vaguely remember what it was to feel.

The woman bows her head. "Very well. Thank you, once more, Huntsman, thank you." She gives a polite curtsy to Emma and says, "Your Highness," before walking towards the library.

Emma goes to say something when she faces him but she just smiles.

He smiles back, a genuine one, at the fact that someone believes in him, believes in the good of him.

He just wonders; for how long can he cling to that thread of humanity and honour before it unravels right in front of his eyes once more?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma realises they must have been in the library for longer than she had imagined when they begin their walk back to the castle. The guard, as always, walks silently behind them, while The Huntsman also appears to be deep in thought.

Meeting with the woman whose family he spared has seemed to leave him shaken and she feels as if she can't find the words to say to him. So they just walk.

It is then that she realises where they are.

The path to and from the village meanders into the forest briefly and, in her own thoughts walking along this time, she realises exactly where they've ended up.

She motions to the guard to stop and The Huntsman notices, almost falling over his feet in surprise.

"Princess," the guard asks, but she holds her hand up as if to say to him that she knows what she's doing.

The Huntsman says nothing to her, only looks around. "Is this...?"

She smiles. "The place we met, the clearing, two years ago."

"I can't believe I didn't notice."

Emma laughs. "Not so observant, are we?" At his expression in reply to this, she only laughs more.

"Princess we must..."

"I know, I know," she says to the guard. She rolls her eyes and sighs. "Guards, huh?"

"Can't live with them, your father would probably kill me if you were without them."

She laughs once more. "You can be funny, you know that?"

"Well, so can you." The Huntsman pauses. "Not that I'm questioning you, but why did you stop us here? Apart from the memories?"

"I...I had to ask you something." She quickly remembers that she's already said something similar today and she holds her hands up and shakes them. "Don't worry, it's not like before."

He gestures to her to go on and she takes a deep breath.

"I was wondering if you would like to attend the ball being held for my birthday celebrations." Nervously she says it all in one long sentence but he appears to have understood her. "I know it's not exactly what you're used to..." She also remembers the look that the people from the village had sent him earlier on, "but..."

"Yes."

Her face breaks out into a grin and she's about to hug him when the guard behind them clears his throat. "Your father will be beginning..."

She rolls her eyes once more. "I know, I know." She takes one more look at her surroundings before she gestures to The Huntsman. "Shall we?"

They walk in no more uncomfortable silence, and every time she catches his eye it's like her heart is speeding up, she clenches and unclenches her clammy hands and she wonders if he does feel the same way. She hopes that she will be brave enough to ask one day.

Chapter Text

As a little girl she had always felt protected in the arms of her father. While growing up, she had come to resent him just a little for holding on so tight, she often would think that he was one of the only reasons she hadn't tripped up yet.

Emma had never viewed herself as the 'princess' type. At first she had thought it was something that would come with age. She first became conscious of the life she led when she was seven years old and as she had looked upon her mother, twirling around the ballroom with grace, she had said to herself that she would one day be as elegant as her, as elegant as a swan.

By age thirteen she had started to realise that she would have to work a little harder at it if she wanted to be anything like her mother. That had started during yet another ball when she had watched her friend, Alexandria, waltz with her father, looking perfectly at ease.

When Emma had taken to the floor with her own father, on the same night, she had stepped on his feet and even lost her balance one or two times. While her father had been understanding and had laughed it off, and the whole court had followed suit, Emma could only remember the deep humiliation. That was when she first felt as if she had failed them as a princess.

And more humiliation followed as she grew up. While she excelled in sword-fighting and hunting - Red declared her a natural while Grumpy had said she was as formidable as her mother - she still felt herself failing in the aspects of royal life which she worked hardest at. With her etiquette tutors she worked on her manners and the right decorum for a dinner party, she worked on her dancing, she worked on her knowledge of the neighbouring kingdoms, and everything she would need to know for when she ascended the throne after her parents.

But it bored her so. So she would find herself tuning out when her etiquette tutors spoke, she would lose focus in her dance lessons and sometimes even fall asleep throughout lessons on different methods of crop cultivation. The only times she would feign an interest and try to keep awake would be when her parents would administer the lessons themselves, taking some time off from the duty of ruling the kingdom.

Days prior to the ball celebrating her twenty-second birthday she finds herself in that familiar position, her father guiding her around the ballroom floor while her mother counts their steps out loud, warning them if they go too fast or too slow. Emma and her father only share a smile when this happens. While he is considerably a much better dancer than her, he still hails from humble beginnings and, unlike her mother, comes from a non-royal lineage, something Emma has always known.

"Charming," Snow says, unimpressed, "you're going too fast again. Emma can hardly keep up."

"Sure she can," replies Charming with a laugh. He looks to Emma. "Come on, let's show her." With a secret wink in his daughter's direction he begins to waltz quicker and quicker and Emma attempts to keep up with his pace.

She gives a laugh as he twirls her around. "I can't, I can't," she concedes quickly, laughing as she and her father separate and he goes to stand by her mother.

A guard appears at the door. "The Huntsman, as you requested Your Majesties." He bows respectively and then leaves the ballroom, The Huntsman standing at the doors in his wake.

Emma looks from her mother, to her father, to The Huntsman and then back again. "Why-"

"We thought, that since you invited him to attend your ball, we should extend our own invitations as well," Snow interrupts. She beckons towards The Huntsman.

"What do you mean by-"

Once more, she is interrupted, this time by Charming. "We were speaking," he says, with a nod towards the other man, "and he mentioned that he had not been to a ball before."

Snow grins. "Would you like to learn how to dance?" she offers.

Emma is startled but not more so than The Huntsman himself whose eyes become wide as he looks at the royal couple. He looks to Emma, so unsure, so scared, as if he's asking her 'should I?' She nods encouragingly and can't hide the smile that she emits when he accepts her parents' offer.

"Well then, let's get to it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Growing up he had been raised, primarily, by the wolves. However, there had been a kind young couple who would sometimes take him in during the harshest of the winter months, when the cold air would pierce his skin and make it hard for him to breathe.

It wouldn't be for long but over the years they taught him most human conventions; speaking, basic writing and reading and, among other skills, how to dance.

But it had been years, he recalls, as Snow nods at her daughter and The Huntsman to proceed to dance, and he falls over his feet quite a lot. Emma only nods and smiles as if she understands and he knows that she does, somehow. She understands him better than anyone he's ever met and he doesn't know why.

As they waltz a little more his confidence quietly grows and he seems to remember more of what the young couple taught him.

"1, 2, 3," she would say in a sing-song kind of voice as she led him around the small cottage while her husband would laugh and clap along in the corner. At one point the two of them would dance together and The Huntsman's young heart would ache because this would be what he could have, might have, should have witnessed every day of his life, if his parents had kept him.

He thinks of them and blinks furiously, aware that his emotions are coming to the fore.

They come to an abrupt halt when Emma notices.

The Huntsman shakes his head. "It's nothing," he assures.

It's not.

After five winters living partially under their care, between the wolves and the humans, the two lives that he led, they were torn away from him cruelly. Casualties of a war, their cottage had been burned to the ground. The only humans he had trusted, gone.

And in that his distrust and disgust of humans had been cemented.

"Are you sure," Snow asks, as she comes to stand beside her daughter and the man. "You seem distracted by something."

The Huntsman shakes his head once more. "No, not at all." He tries to smile but he can't quite manage it.

Charming nods. In an attempt to change the topic of conversation, he broaches the subject of The Huntsman's dancing. "You were a little unsteady, but you seemed as if you had learned before. Have you?"

With a sigh, The Huntsman nods. "A young couple that took me in during the winter while I was a child…they taught me."

Snow looks a little caught off guard by the information, as does Charming. "And they…?"

"Dead," manages The Huntsman. He realises that Emma is still holding his hand, and even though her parents are standing right before them, she dares to give it a reassuring squeeze to let him know that it's okay.

He is eternally grateful for the gesture.

Snow and Charming, in the midst of ball preparation, tell Emma she has an afternoon off from her lessons and so she takes her leave from the vast ballroom with The Huntsman.

Taking a quiet stroll out in the courtyard, the sun shining down on them, they find a small well in a secluded area to sit beside.

Emma takes off her heels and winces in pain.

"The price of beauty, I suppose," she jokes with a shrug.

"Why, of course," agrees The Huntsman. He can tell she has a question for him and, deciding not to delay the inevitable, says as much. While she looks startled she doesn't deny it and leans forward, away from the prying ears of the servants who hurry past.

"Why did they take you in? This couple?"

He shrugs. "I guess they felt bad for me. A young boy shivering out in the cold. The wolves could keep warm in their pack. I was more or less one of them in everything but that."

He laughs a little and Emma wonders why. He explains, "They gave me a name, you know? I told you I had never had a human name - that's not true."

"Really?" Emma's interest is piqued. "What?"

"Why don't you guess?"

Emma leans up against the wall and scrutinises him from the short distance between them. "Archie?"

He shakes his head.

"David?"

Another shake of the head.

"Henry?"

When there is a third shake of his head, she sighs and throws her hands up in mock frustration. "Why don't you just tell me?"

He laughs and this time his smile is completely genuine. "Graham."

"Graham."

She plays it over on her tongue and she realises that it suits him.

Graham.

"And you didn't like it?"

"Not the memories it brings," he admits. "But it wasn't a bad name." Something resembling conflict crosses his face and he seems to retreat back into himself. "Can I tell you something?"

His voice is small, unsure and his face so much resembles what it looked like earlier when Snow had asked him if he wished to dance.

Emma leans forward but not too close and smiles. "Yes, anything."

The Huntsman sits forward as well. "Part of me wanted them to take me in forever, to be my parents. The wolves were and will always be my family but…"

Almost on instinct Emma reaches out and touches his hand. She nods but doesn't say anything, saying to him that he doesn't have to try and explain it.

They sit in that silence for a while but it is comfortable, and he's glad she's there. So is she. She's glad he can confide in her. She understands that for a long, long time he has had no one. She can't imagine that but she can try to understand and to help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Regina paces the halls of her derelict castle, the place she has called home for so long, as she grows more and more impatient with her plans for revenge and the doubt that she is filled with regarding them. The mirror shows her the guards; they will be arriving any minute now with her valuable information, and then The Huntsman should return, with his bounty another two days after that.

She wants to believe that nothing will stop him, that nothing will get in the way of this moment, this victorious moment she has waited for for so long that she can almost taste it, but she has been truly and utterly thrown by the fact that she cannot see her Huntsman, that she cannot track his movements, that he has gone off the radar.

Not to mention that she can feel a power struggle beginning in the Enchanted Forest, and news has travelled quickly to her that the spell around Rumplestiltskin's imprisonment is weakening, and could break any day now. If that happens then she will not only be in her continuing fight for vengeance but also in a never-ending duel with her own mentor.

She can breathe a sigh of relief in this case, however, when she remembers the useful pawn she still has hidden away, just in case. The girl, Belle, his love, his true love. How it sickens her. Now in her late fifties, the woman has grown used to her captivity but she still fights, she still refuses to help destroy him once and for all. Her spirit weakens as does her strength but she struggles on with whatever she has left to compel her to do so.

Regina remembers the words that the foolish woman uses; 'hope', 'love', 'good' and scoffs. She knows that no such things exist in this world.

She decides to ask the Mirror about Belle's condition; she is thinking that it may now be the only way to get any information from Rumplestiltskin. Belle has been rotting away in that tower for long enough that Regina can only think now is as good as a time as any to find any worth in her.

Before she can, however, the Mirror announces that her guards have arrived and are awaiting her orders. Desperately seeking any information she can get about The Huntsman she tells him to send them to her at once.

Pacing once more, she greets her men when they arrive and almost instantly asks for an update on The Huntsman.

Their faces are grave.

At first she wonders if he truly did flee the realm – even without his heart.

"You," she points to one of the three guards and beckons him to walk forward. "Speak."

He looks hesitant. "Y-Your Majesty," he begins with a bow.

She folds her arms. "Yes, yes, pleasantries aside," sneers Regina, "what do you know? The Huntsman – he still resides in this realm?"

The guard nods. "Yes, but…" he trails off nervously.

"But what?!" snaps Regina.

"We have reason to believe that he…he…"

One of the other guards steps forward and boldly declares, "We believe that he is love with the princess."

Regina blinks once, then twice, thrice, all completely silent. She cannot believe the words. Her Huntsman, her pet, in love? It is ridiculous and unthinkable. He has no heart, he cannot feel. And if he could, to feel for the horrible daughter of the wretched Snow White?

"And what do you base these accusations on?" she asks quickly, trying to set her nervousness at this new information, aside.

"Their general manner, Your Majesty," another one of the men, states. "They were laughing, holding hands, looked like any other young couple you may see."

Regina shakes her head and red hot anger seeps into every fibre of her being. With a feral scream she flings open a drawer of her vanity and produces the chest that holds the heart of The Huntsman.

Feel, can he? Love, can he?

How can he love without a heart?

And how can he love when that heart he doesn't even have in his chest turns to ash beneath her fingers.

"Leave," she instructs the men, and while they seem to hesitate, the sight of their Queen with the glowing heart of The Huntsman – they had only heard stories, rumours of such a thing before – is enough to send them out of the room.

The Mirror tries to appeal to her. "Your Majesty, it could be a mistake."

"I should have known," mutters Regina, ignoring him, "I should have known."

Without any remorse she begins to squeeze and squeeze and when she closes her eyes she can hear the screams from the pain she is causing him. She begins to laugh when a female scream cuts across The Huntsman's and it seems to snap her out of her trance.

She stops squeezing the heart and instead inspects it. With one last painful crush, she leaves it very much intact, returns it to the chest and puts it back into the drawer.

When The Mirror asks what she is doing she sits by the vanity and admires her appearance, praising her own genius for the last plan, the greatest twist in the story that she had thought of.

Why would she kill him when she could make him suffer?

Chapter Text

One minute they are speaking, laughing and discussing the ball to be held in her honour in only a few days' time.

In the next minute, his face is changing, his eyes widen, his mouth forms an 'o' shape as a guttural cry leaves his lips and he is collapsing to the ground.

Emma can barely process what is happening before she is on her knees beside him. His eyes are closed, he's barely moving yet he still cries out. She calls for him to wake up and to open his eyes but he doesn't. He tries, she can see the flicker of movement, but it's like he physically can't.

She feels panic well up inside her, and tears spring to her eyes as she cradles his body in her arms. She shakes his shoulders but when he doesn't respond this time she lets out a scream, a desperate call for help. It's at this point that she sees the servants crowd beside her.

One asks what the matter is but Emma can't say, she can only continue to shake The Huntsman from whatever has caused him to fall.

She hears their murmurs. "What's the matter with him?" "Should we get the King and Queen?" "Someone should call Doc."

All Emma can think is that they're losing precious time. She looks up, and tries to seem strong. She is comforted by the fact that she can still hear The Huntsman breathing, but it is slight. "Help me take him to the infirmary," she says in a voice that is a whole lot shakier than she had intended. When they just stare at her she is determined to sound more assertive. "Now!"

They rush around her, and two servants take his body from her arms, carrying him along. Another servant wraps an arm around the princess and helps lift her from her position on the ground. Emma realises that her dress is covered in dirt but she hurries along after those carrying The Huntsman, all the while trying not to cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She paces outside the infirmary for what seems like hours but has only been mere minutes. She keeps thinking about what happened and what could have caused it. And in the back of her mind, as Doc checks over him, she wonders if he really had been breathing when the servants had carried him off. Had she imagined that as some sort of comfort? She can't think straight and ends up sitting down, trying to collect herself and keep some sort of dignity around the handmaidens who sit with her.

She's told them that she doesn't need them to sit with her while she waits for news but they insist and she gives up on arguing as she can't deny that they are simply looking out for her best interests and her peace of mind.

At the sound of footsteps she looks up but it is only her parents, rushing along the corridor with as much grace as they can, her father almost falling over his feet in his haste.

"Emma, Emma, are you okay? What happened?"

While she had been waiting for them she had run over what she would say. 'The Huntsman collapsed.' 'He was barely breathing.' 'He just wouldn't wake up.'

But now that they're standing in front of her, looking concerned, as they tell her handmaidens they are dismissed, Emma finds the words don't form in her throat. All she can do is shake her head and try to blink back the tears that she's been holding in.

All she wants to know is how and why and how he is but Doc had insisted that he had to check him over before giving a full review of his condition to the princess. He had apologised but had said there was nothing he could do and that it was protocol. Emma had understood and with one last glance at The Huntsman, she had let the door shut with something, she couldn't help but think, resembled finality.

"Emma, you have to tell us what happened? Did you get hurt?" Charming asks, with a voice Emma suspects is more forceful than he had originally intended.

Snow places a hand on her husband's shoulder, as if telling him to be gentle with her and a flicker of guilt crosses his face.

Kneeling in front of his daughter, Charming takes her hand. "Just tell us what you can, Emma. What happened to The Huntsman?"

A beat of silence and Emma answers, shaking her head. "I don't know."

"You must have some sort of idea, sweetheart," Snow pries gently.

Emma shakes her head again. "He just collapsed." It's like she's talking to herself. "One minute he was laughing," she remembers the rare sight of his laughter, "and the next he was falling."

Her voice cracks and she repeats, "I don't know."

Snow and Charming share a look before they each sit on either side of their daughter, staying with her in her silent vigil.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The world was black and then suddenly it wasn't.

There was excruciating pain – his heart being squeezed – and then it disappeared.

Emma was shouting for him to wake up but he couldn't because it would have been so easy to give in to that undeniable clutching feeling in his chest and not fight this futile battle – to let Regina win.

He's startled awake and his head spins at the image of Regina. For a split second, he was sure he could see her, his heart poised in her hands as she squeezed and squeezed.

She had been trying to kill him.

He sits, conscious but eyes closed, wondering why she didn't, equal parts relieved and terrified at the prospect.

"So it appears you're awake then?" a voice asks and The Huntsman only groggily murmurs words of agreement with the question. "You gave the princess quite a scare, young man."

Ready to face the light, The Huntsman opens his eyes and finds a small man peering down at him. He almost jumps at the close proximity while the dwarf writes something down, muttering how it is 'interesting' while doing so.

The Huntsman worries about what could be so 'interesting' and feels queasiness at the idea of his deceit being found out. He swallows down his fear and, still lying down, asks the most innocent question he can think of. "What happened to me?"

The dwarf looks down at what he's been writing on and looks as confused as The Huntsman feels. "I honestly don't know. It's as if your heart stopped beating but it never actually did. Besides, that would be impossible, wouldn't it?"

The Huntsman nods. "Yes, impossible."

"There is magic that can cause such a phenomenon but the King mentioned that you had your heart back?" Without missing a beat The Huntsman nods at the question. The dwarf makes a note of this. "It could be a side effect of the time you had your heart removed," he further ventures. "At least that's how I explained it to the King."

The Huntsman nods once more and he looks around. He suddenly feels uncomfortable and he knows why.

"I'd like to keep you for a few more hours just to observe and make sure you don't suffer a relapse of any kind." The dwarf holds out his hand. "I'm Doc, the court physician."

The Huntsman, although hesitant, reaches out and shakes his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Regina walks through the dark corridors of the abandoned mine and arrives once more at the cell of Rumplestiltskin.

"Come out, come out wherever you are Rumple," she calls with a sneer. "I have something to discuss with you."

It takes a few minutes but eventually the imp slinks out of the shadows into the light and peers at his former pupil behind the bars. His eyes are wide, in confusion and anticipation, and he beckons for her to come closer. "Now, to what do I owe this…honour?"

"Oh, I think you know," says Regina. "You fooled me once before, do not think you can do so again. I want answers and I would like them now."

Rumplestiltskin tilts his head to the side. "You certainly don't waste time on formalities anymore. Manners, Your Majesty, manners."

"You'll give me the answers I seek..."

Rumplestiltskin sidles closer to the bars and stares her straight in the eye. "And why would I do that?"

This is it, Regina realises, it is time for the pawn she has been waiting to use for years to finally serve her purpose and how glorious it will be to see the look in his eyes when he realises; all that time, years and years which he has lost forever – as has she.

Conjuring up an image, Rumplestiltskin looks further astonished at this and watches carefully, never fully taking his eyes off of Regina, in case it's a distraction. He is stunned when he finally realises what he can see.

"B…B…Belle." His voice is soft and broken and weak. He reaches out to touch the image but finds that it fades into a mist. At once he rounds on Regina. "What have you done to her?! All this time and-"

Regina smirks. "And she'll remain alive; broken, aging, but alive, if you give me what I need."

Rumplestiltskin looks to where the image had disappeared and goes to reach out once more, perhaps hoping that it would appear once more.

But it is a foolish dream.

"What do you need to know?"

Regina smiles, and reaches out her hand. "So, do we have a deal?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doc had come out to tell them that The Huntsman had woken up and had seemed fine, that the side effects or whatever had caused him to collapse had seemed to subside.

"He asked to see you." He looks to Emma, with a smile.

Emma smiles back and nods her head, graciously, as she feels a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. "Thank you."

Emma walks in and hears Doc close the door behind her. The Huntsman looks up at her when he hears the footsteps on the floor.

"How are you feeling?" Emma asks, thankful that her voice didn't betray her. She walks towards him and sits on the seat opposite him.

He nods. "Better."

There's a silence and it's in the silence that Emma contemplates something she hadn't thought about while she had been waiting. She has only known him, properly, for a couple of days, a week at best and yet she wonders how she would have felt had he not been 'better', had it taken its toll and he had lost his-

"Stuck in your thoughts again?" he gently teases.

She gives a small smile and leans back. "Something like that." At the thought of never seeing him again, she wants to be closer to him. But she resists the urge and continues to try to make small talk. "What…happened?"

"Did Doc not…"

"He did," she confirms. It's at this point she moves her chair closer. "But I…I want to hear it from you." Her face has that fierce determination written all over it and he knows, as he always knows when she makes that face at him, that he will end up telling her.

"It was a pain in my heart." He places a hand, subconsciously, to the organ, "and the world went black. I heard you, calling for me, but I…I couldn't. I don't know how…" That's a lie, he knows very well, how, just not why. How had Regina found out?

"It's okay," she says. "It's okay."

If he was ever going to tell her the truth it would be now but he hates the idea and how much she'll hate him. If there was one person in the world who he didn't want to hate him, it would be her, without a doubt. He doesn't quite know how or understand why, but she's under his skin now. She's there, in every thought, dream. It's her.

"Stuck in your thoughts now?" asks Emma.

He sees her smirking at him, her arms folded and her head tilted, and dismisses it with a wave of his hand and the moment to tell her is gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the time he was under Doc's observation he had thought over all the reasons that Regina could have possibly kept him alive. He could feel her burning anger searing his soul as she squeezed his heart. He knows now that she must have some other plan and it must involve Emma and her parents. He's been under her control for far too long to believe she would be merciful to him at what she would take as a betrayal.

So, he resolves to stick to his plan this time. If he had left only a couple of days ago, when he had been ready to, this may have never happened. He was in too deep then and he's only been fooling himself if he thinks he's any less involved now. Because the truth is he's much more invested now but he knows how horribly it could all end, He's drowning under the pressure, and while he worries that it will hurt her (for it certainly giving him an ache in his chest that he never thought he'd feel again) he has to do what is right. At this moment in time, 'right' is protecting Emma from him and what he could possibly do.

He's felt the sensation of not being completely in control before. When Regina would clutch his heart and tell him what to do and he would – completely aware but unable to stop his actions. He can't let Emma or her family or her friends become a casualty of that.

When they had been speaking in the infirmary he could not face telling her. He couldn't face seeing what her reaction would be, could not face if she tried to convince him to stay because he might have been tempted to once more.

So, finding a stray piece of paper, he scribbles down a letter for her and flees into the night, ready to go back to face Regina – and his fate and all that it entails. He would much rather die than be the reason that Emma no longer lived.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You seem hesitant to tell me anything Rumple," Regina murmurs, and once more, she conjures up the image of Belle, sitting in her tower, her own hell for decades. "Tell me, would you rather I kill her instead?"

Rumplestiltskin lunges at Regina but cannot reach out to her. "You forget that I will be free soon. I will give you all the information you need now, and you will assure me that Belle will live?" Regina nods and Rumplestiltskin relents. "Do not forget dearie, that as soon as I am free I will free Belle, and you will need a place to hide."

"When you're free, Rumple? Depends on what you define 'freedom' as, I suppose."

"What?"

"I know you lied to me about The Huntsman and what you knew." She turns to him. "But that is almost irrelevant now. I have a new plan. And I need you to confirm a suspicion for me."

"And what would that be?" Rumplestiltskin asks. It is evident in his voice that he hates that shift in the power balance, that he had become so comfortable controlling the strings behind the cell when he had lost hope of the curse ever being cast, that he forgot the thrill of blackmail.

"Obviously, my father's heart was not strong enough to enact the curse," Regina says. "But there is one heart that is?"

"Only now," Rumplestiltskin says quietly. "Only now that the heart is old enough can it cast the curse. But it will be forever, Regina. There will be no end. There will be no way to break it if you use the Saviour's heart."

"And why would I need to break it?" Regina asks. "Or is there something you never told me about the curse, master? What was your true reason for needing it enacted so badly that you couldn't do it yourself?"

Rumplestiltskin refuses to give into her taunts. "No reason." But now his panic is growing. Keeping his cards close to his chest he nods. "While the heart of the thing you loved most would have created a powerful curse, the heart of the saviour creates an unbreakable curse."

"And that's exactly what I need."

Chapter Text

She wakes up, covered in sweat, tears in her eyes, as she grips onto her bed covers. She looks down at the sheets and tries to ease her breathing, which is coming in shallow gasps but she can't quite regulate it.

It was only a dream, it was only a dream, Emma tells herself, first in her thoughts and then out-loud, trying to chase the shadows and the darkness of her mind away. The dream – no nightmare –had been so vivid, so seemingly real and unlike anything she had ever encountered before. Of course she had grown up, scared that monsters, ogres and trolls alike would carry her off, but that was a childhood fear.

This was real and adult, and she found herself openly shedding tears as she thought of the nightmare that had overtaken her. It had all been so peaceful, before the storm had broken.

She had been dreaming of The Huntsman, and herself. It had been a scene not unlike the one earlier on that day. They had been laughing, speaking, and then suddenly he had fallen. But this time, no matter how much she called for him, he never returned. The servants hadn't moved to help her. She had only been forced to cradle him in her arms as he slipped away from her.

She had woken up just before Doc said the word 'dead'.

It was a dream, Emma, it was a dream, she thinks as she begins to calm down but she knows she won't be able to sleep. She slips out of her bed, puts on her slippers and takes her dressing gown from the hook behind her door. Opening the door, she decides that a stroll around the castle may calm her down and put her overactive imagination to some sort of rest.

While walking down the corridors she passes by The Huntsman's room. She thinks nothing of it the first time she walks by, but then she stops and turns. Walking back, she notices that the room door is ajar. Confused, she walks towards it and looks both ways, before knocking.

No reply.

She knocks a second time and still there's no reply, and not even a sign of movement from within.

Steeling her nerves, she pushes the door open ever so slightly and puts her head around it. It's empty.

She doesn't immediately panic and wonder where he's gone. At first she tries to reason that perhaps he went for a walk also, that he needed some air. Curiosity grabs her, however, and so she steps into the room.

Looking around she finds that he is not there. The bed is perfectly made, the way it would be if he hadn't slept in it. The window is closed, and the small traces of him are gone. She can feel, in some way that she doesn't quite understand, that he is gone. And it is not a gone in the most permanent sense that she had just had a nightmare about, but it is clear in its finality nonetheless. He has walked out of the palace and she wonders if he intends on coming back.

Blinking back tears she stumbles backwards and hits her hip off of the dresser. She stifles her cry of pain and turns to it, in anger and annoyance that is not at all directed towards the object. Placing a hand atop the cool surface, eyes closed, she feels something under her fingers.

It's a sheet of folded up paper. Opening her eyes, she looks down on it and is shocked to find, in what she assumes to be his handwriting, her name.

She knows this is it. This is his goodbye. If she hadn't found this she could have deluded herself into whatever fantasy she wanted. She could go back to her bed and reassure herself, as she fell to sleep, that he would be back in the morning. She could have woken up and pretended that he was just wandering the forest floor with his wolf brother and he would come back like only days earlier.

But the letter, as with the feeling of the room, makes her starkly aware of the fact that he is gone and, the thought hurts her more than she imagined, never coming back.

He arrives at the gates of the Queen's palace with a heavy ache in his chest, in the void where his heart should be. The guards look upon him with some pity but mostly derision. One calls to open the gates and he slips through, being led by one of the guards, obviously sent to meet him by Regina.

They walk in silence and he thinks about what awaits him. It is almost certainly death, is it not? Regina had once said she could not bear to kill him but he felt her anger, her hatred, and her rage as she squeezed his heart. She intended to kill him, that intention was clear.

When he's face to face with her, she contorts her lips into a smirk. "It appears you received my message."

He does not need to ask what she means. He only nods. "Why didn't you finish the job?" he asks.

"And kill my favourite pet?" She sidles forward and takes his chin in her hand. She leans towards him but he jerks back, causing her hand to fall back to her side. He stares at her with a determination she has not seen since he spared her most hated foe years ago. The smirk falls from her face, as a look of shock crosses her features. "Perhaps I should have."

Turning on her heel she takes the chest and faces him from beside the vanity. "Let's cut right to the chase, shall we Huntsman?"

Taking it out she squeezes once and he feels the pain but does not yet fall.

A second squeeze and the ache in his chest grows but still he does not yield to it.

He tries to remember Emma, her face, her voice, her laugh and the way she would look at him like he was not a monster without a heart.

He is not a monster, he is not a monster, he repeats to himself. He decided that on his walk back to the castle. If he was to die, he was to die knowing that he could feel and that that made him more human that he had ever thought he wanted to be.

A third squeeze of his heart, and he almost sees the end. Almost reluctantly he falls to the ground and Regina hovers over him.

"The princess? You fell in the love with the princess?" Her tone is incredulous as holds his heart and he looks up at her. He sees the glowing red object and part of him wants to live because he wants to see Emma's face again, and again, and again, and, in a startling realisation, every day. But then he knows the dangers and he knows that if she knew the real reason why he had saved her in the woods that day she would be unable to look him in the eye again.

The Huntsman looks up at her, defiance in his eyes and answers. "Yes."

He closes his eyes, bows his end and expects the final darkness. But it never comes. Instead the pain eases once more, and he looks up at his torturer, reluctant tears clouding his vision. "Why don't you kill me?"

She bends down so that she is almost level with him, just subtly maintaining a height distance between them to show her superiority. "Because you will finally bring me a heart, Huntsman."

As she turns, he realises what she means and tries to stand his feet. It is a clumsy attempt, however, and he ends up back on the floor, as Regina places his heart in the chest and uses her magic to whisk it away. She looks to him. "I wouldn't want you to know where it is, would I?"

"Please."

He can't remember a time in his life where he has begged but this is the situation that demands it. It is his worst fear that she would use him once more, and in a way he cannot even understand. When she uses the heart he is a mindless puppet, only good to do her bidding and nothing else.

Regina shakes her head, and laughs. "You forget Huntsman, you still owe me the heart of Snow White. Your heart wasn't a fair trade-off, I'm afraid, even all these years later." She walks back towards him and this time forces him to stand in front of her. "When I give my orders, you will take her heart, but not in the way that I first envisioned. No, the greatest revenge will be her finding her daughter, heartless, dead, and gone."

"Please. She doesn't deserve to die."

It's like Regina doesn't hear him and she chooses to ignore his plea. "You will take the heart of the woman you so claim to love. No magic, no love, can save her from that, not when your heart rests in my hand."

She forces him to be taken away from the guards, even while he shouts in what is a futile attempt to find some way out of this hell. A dull ache forms in his chest and this is feeling in its fullest form. It is pain and aching and knowing that he will be responsible for the death of the first person he has ever truly loved.

Snow found her in the morning, as she had been passing down the corridor. Her daughter had been sitting on the edge of her bed, a piece of paper in hand, staring at it so intently Snow was sure she might just set it on fire with sheer brain power. It had been an amusing sight at first. Snow had assumed Emma was perhaps studying but then she had noticed that she hadn't moved.

She had just kept her eyes deliberately set on this paper.

Hours later, Charming paces angrily in his daughter's room, Snow now sitting by Emma's side, reassuringly stroking her daughter's arm while hugging her.

"I will find him – and I will kill him," Charming warns.

Emma's head jerks up. "Stop it, stop it now."

"Emma, he left without-"

"He might have just gone for a walk; did we not think of that?" Snow cuts in to the heated debate with a suggestion.

Charming shrugs. "I sent the guards out hours ago. If he was still in this part of the kingdom we would know."

Snow stands beside her husband, gently leading him by the arm to just outside of Emma's room. "It is her birthday celebration tomorrow, Charming. She just needs time, not us hovering around her."

"That man broke our daughter's heart and you want me to do nothing?"

"We won't know for sure until Emma reads that letter. Let's just give her some time."

Charming sighs in defeat and nods. He puts his head around Emma's doors and smiles at her. She smiles back, bravely, and watches as he leaves. She hears their footsteps down the corridor and decides that now must be the right time to read the words he left her.

Hesitantly, and resolutely, she opens the paper up and sees the messy handwriting. Lots of words are scribbled out but she can just manage to read it. And it hurts her. It really hurts her. Because it is goodbye and it is an apology and it is everything she had been dreading.

She had really felt with him, it had almost been like she had been falling-

Shaking her head, she throws the letter, the beautifully bittersweet words he composed for her, to the ground and decides, in that moment, that she had not fallen in love with him.

How could she? She had never known what that kind of love was before; how was she to know that was what she was feeling. It could have a natural feeling. He was a friend; just as Pinocchio is. There was nothing else there.

She hopes she can keep telling herself that, because she feels, as she leaves the room (but not before gently lifting the letter from the floor, folding it carefully and putting it in the back of her dresser) she needs all the assurance she can get of such feelings.

At the sound of keys jingling in the lock of her tower, Belle sits up. "Hello," she calls, her throat scratchy for days of solitary silence, just herself and her book, one of the luxury the Queen has allowed in all the years she has been trapped here. "Who is it?"

When the man steps into the shadows she relaxes and leans back. "You should have told me it was you, Huntsman."

Normally he does laugh with her, to some extent. He is heartless, unfeeling, after all, but somehow not completely.

This time he sits on the chair across from her bed and simply stares forward, at her, contemplatively.

"Belle, what would you say love is?"

She's struck by the question. Once upon a time she tried to tell him what love was like and he had rebuffed that completely, telling her that love was a 'lie'.

"I don't know. I haven't loved for a long time, Huntsman." She is now older, in her late years. She's surprised that she's survived as long as she has but she suspects the Queen knows how 'useful' she could be and that is why. Not that she would ever betray him, after all these years.

"Yes, but you did, didn't you?"

Belle nods. "Why do you want to know?" She's never truly seen him happy before but when she sees the small smile, marred by worry, but a smile nonetheless, she knows. "Who? When? How?"

He looks down and blinks rapidly, as if he doesn't understand it either. He can only look at her in disbelief. "The princess, I think. I'm still not sure what my feelings were-are."

Belle beckons for him to come closer and he does so. She reaches out and places her hand on top of his own and smiles, searching his eyes. "It's that exactly. It's the fact that you feel at all, Huntsman."

He wants to tell her about Rumplestiltskin but the door opens, a guard demands that the Queen wishes to see The Huntsman as soon as possible, and the moment is gone. He also wished to confide in her about what Regina planned to have him do but he could not. He leaves the room to her smiling face, full of hope for him and it breaks the heart he has not possessed for years.

Emma dresses and joins her parents for an early lunch that afternoon. They sit in relative silence, and she feigns a smile when her mother asks her about her birthday ball tomorrow evening. Emma is grateful for the fact that neither of her parents have mentioned The Huntsman (although her father eats in some sort of suppressed anger) and she does not tell them that she read the letter, nevertheless the contents of it. Those words are for her and her only. And they are enough of a parting blow.

Later on that day she finds herself throwing all that she can into her lessons. All of her energy is channelled into staying awake while her etiquette tutors tell her which cutlery is for which course of the meal and trying not to fall over her feet when her mother and father once more take her for a dance lesson. It is harder, that time, not to think of The Huntsman and the story he had told her about the kind couple who had taken him in but she does so to the best of her ability.

Her mood is lightened but only for short periods of time. Whenever she finds herself remembering the letter she must press down the emotion within because she is truly afraid she will break. And she cannot afford to do that.

A distraction arrives in the shape of Pinocchio, back from a trading fair in another kingdom. Emma is delighted to see one of her oldest friends once more and he demands to hear all that has happened in his absence.

She tells him of The Huntsman and he smiles during the tale, until Emma tells him of the events of the morning.

"Do you know why he left?"

Emma nods. "But it doesn't matter. He still left. And I guess, it's not a big deal, is it? I only knew him for a couple of days and…"

"Emma," he interrupts. "Of course it matters. I'd kick his ass if I could." Emma gives out a laugh and Pinocchio nudges her in the side playfully. "You know I would. But if you want to, shouldn't you fight for him?"

"He doesn't want to be fought for, he made that perfectly clear," she demands.

The two sit in a further silence, and Emma wonders about his words, wonders and wonders until she cannot think anymore and can only sigh in some sort of silent defeat. And wonder where he is.

Chapter Text

Snow watches her only daughter standing, wearing her ball gown and feels tears in her eyes. She manages to bat them away easily, and when Emma turns to her, asking silently 'how do I look', Snow gives her a big grin and an emphatic nod. Her throat is thick with the emotion but she chokes out a, "You look beautiful, sweetheart," before wiping her eyes.

She is telling the truth. Her daughter has always been beautiful but she has never looked lovelier. Even with the silent sadness Emma is carrying with her, Snow is proud in the way that she holds herself. She is keeping her head held high and her heart kind and that is all she ever wanted for her. From the stories her father told her of her mother, those are the values that she held and the ones Snow herself had always tried to carry with her.

"One more thing," Snow adds, as an aside, turning to the table. She beckons to Emma to come towards her, so she is standing in front of the mirror. Snow takes the box in her hands and, with a gentle hand, removes the lid. Carefully, she lifts the tiara that her mother had left behind for her, and places it atop her own daughter's blonde curls. She feels that familiar sadness because she never had this moment with her own mother, but she pushes it away because tonight is a celebration.

Emma's mouth is a perfect 'o' shape. She turns to her mother, and Snow takes her hands. She smiles at her daughter, and proceeds to move a strand of stray hair away from her eyes. "It's heavier than it looks," she gives a small chuckle, "or at least, that's what my father used to say. Your grandmother would say it to him often."

Emma feels her mask of 'no emotions', a wall she has concocted so that she can get through the next few hours without even thinking of The Huntsman, fall and she lets tears fill her eyes as she hugs her mother.

"Thank you."

He's thrown unceremoniously to the ground by the guards. Regina looks down on him once more and he knows what this means. He has no way of fighting, no way of saying no.

"It is time."

It had been a restless night. He had been surprised but enormously relieved to find that Regina did not summon him. But he hadn't been able to sleep; everything weighed much too heavily on his mind and his thoughts strayed and wandered. He had left the castle, had left Emma, to protect her and had stupidly walked right back into the clutches of the one woman who could ensure he wouldn't do that.

"Time for what?" He hopes that playing somewhat dumb in front of her will stall her.

She shakes her head. "Oh you know. Don't be coy with me Huntsman. You know me far better than anyone."

"But you will never know me," he replies. It is one last act of defiance, he decides. With a scowl, she takes the heart from the chest, all 'pleasantries' now over.

He sees the heart, he hears her voice and hard as he tries to fight, he hears the instructions, the commands and he is powerless to stop them.

You will go back to the castle. You will find the Princess. And when the time is right, you will strike. You will tell no one of this plan, you will not warn her or her family or anyone at her special birthday ball. You will cut out her heart and bring it back to me. You will take her heart.

You will take her heart.

You will take her heart.

You will take her heart.

Charming makes sure everything is organised in the ballroom before he heads up the stairs to his daughter's room. He checks with the musicians, the royal dignitaries, his dearest friends and the guards, for good measure. It is a precaution, one taken with Rumplestiltskin's words still lingering in his ears. He claimed that Emma's birthday celebrations would be some sort of turning point and while he hadn't clearly specified what would happen, he had implied that it would not be good.

Charming was determined, however, to diffuse any threats and focus on the joyous fact that it was his daughter's ball, to celebrate her life, and the fact that one day she would eventually be the Queen. Taking the stairs two at a time, he knocks the door to Emma's bedroom and then peeks his head through the door.

Emma laughs upon seeing him, and while he notes that the laugh doesn't quite reach her eyes (damn that Huntsman) she still tries to smile and tries to look as if she isn't dreading tonight. He knows she's always felt slightly ill at ease where royal functions were concerned (his origins are that of a shepherd, he's still not used to the pomp and ceremony of balls and the like and he doubts he'll ever fully be) but she tries. And that is enough for him and for Snow. They both share a look of silent pride.

"How do I look?"

Charming gives Emma – who seems to be so unsure in her question – a great big smile and kisses her on the forehead.

"Wonderful, sweetheart, absolutely wonderful."

As he walks through the forest, he goes carefully. The King's men are out in full force today, to stop bandits or anybody of any other unsavoury profession from breaking into the castle. If The Huntsman could, he would have shown himself, but Regina's command is clear in his head, and it drives him forward involuntary.

In all honesty, he can hardly remember leaving the castle. He slightly recalls standing, bowing to Regina (and his stomach coiled up in knots at her smirk) and then being thrown out onto the forest floor by one of the other guards.

He wonders what he will do when he sees Emma again. Will he be able to speak to her, to warn her of what he is to do? Will he be able to apologise, even just once, if he carries out his task and watches the light leave her bright eyes. He hopes that he is allowed even that one terrible consolation.

Right now he only has one purpose, one goal, even as he fights every step of the way. It is a battle against magic he cannot hope to combat.

You will take her heart.

You will take her heart.

You will take her heart.

Emma stands at the top of the stairs and takes multiple deep breaths; in and out, in and out, in and out. Her parents have just descended the stairs to the applause and awed respect of their subjects and in only a matter of moments Emma will join them.

She will dance and she will dine with those just like her. Royals. While most are good and kind, she finds that others can be insufferably annoying, caring more about their titles than their peoples. Emma's never been good at looking at the cultivation of crops or managing the economy of the kingdom in her lessons, but she cares.

She looks down the balcony to find her father with his glass raised. "Dear friends," he begins, his voice booming and clear, like any good King's should be, "I thank you all for joining us tonight. And I'd like to extend a very warm welcome to our dignitaries from the North, South and East kingdoms. Please make yourself comfortable, for our home is your home." He turns to Snow, who also raises her glass. He nods to her and she takes a slight step forward.

"We are gathered here tonight, to honour and to celebrate the twenty-second birthday of our cherished daughter, Emma. I would like you all to raise your glasses, to Princess Emma."

The butler standing by the stairs, nods, gives an encouraging smile and Emma stands at the top of the stairs. She tucks a stray strand of hair that has escaped the bun she wears, and then makes her descend. To her surprise she doesn't trip or fall over or make a fool out of herself. In fact, when she reaches the end, her father is there to take her hand.

He looks at her like she has made him the proudest man in the world.

She takes her first dance with her father, while Snow accepts an offer of a dance from one of the young princes of another kingdom. Emma is sceptical of the spontaneous nature of this. The two couples dance in close proximity and she silently dreads the moment that she and her father break away. She knows they mean well and that her thoughts must turn to marriage and the kingdom very soon.

But the memory of The Huntsman still lingers on and she wonders where he is; not for the first time that day. She had woken up that morning, feeling excited for her ball, and then she had remembered the letter and faking her smile. Her only goal had been getting through the morning before she had to get ready.

She knows that her thoughts are written all over her face. She tries to keep the smile up. The façade is slipping.

"Are you thinking about him?" her father asks quietly, not that he could be heard over the music anyway.

Emma nods. She dares not voice that she misses him because to do so would be to betray the effort she has put into forgetting he ever even existed. But she wonders why she tries to do it with her parents. They see right through her act.

"I could find him, Emma. I have men all over the forest." He stops and takes her hands. "I could look into the next realm, ask to have an order put out for-"

She shakes her head. "There's a reason he left." Her mother is now staring at them, confused, as she continues to dance with the visiting prince, but she doesn't stop. Emma looks back to her father. "I may not fully know what it is, and I may be so angry," she clenches and then unclenches her fists quickly, because it would not do for her to become so worked up in the middle of her own birthday ball, "at him, but it is his." She feels the tears. Looking at her father, she resumes the waltz position with him, and they continue to dance. She is grateful that he does not push it with her anymore.

At one point she puts her head into his shoulder and he silently comforts her, as if she's little again and she's just scraped her knee in the palace gardens. It gives all the reassurance in the world.

He has to knock the guards unconscious but he manages to infiltrate the castle, with expert skill. Ducking behind corners, he keeps his head down. Taking a longer way and trying to find his way around the castle takes up a bit of his time but eventually The Huntsman finds himself on the balcony that leads into the grand ballroom.

Strangely, none of the King's men stand guard here. He peeks into the ballroom, and somehow, his eyes immediately find Emma. She is standing with her father, talking to someone who appears to be a prince. Someone more appropriate for her, The Huntsman thinks somewhat bitterly.

But he has to push those thoughts down, far down, because suddenly, the part of him that is being controlled hears Regina once more.

He walks into the shadows and waits.

Emma watches, trying to keep a smile on her face, as her father introduces her to the eligible princes of the realm. There's Prince Peter of the East, Prince Terrance of the South and Prince Laurence of the North, who she and her father are conversing with now, and who had danced with her mother only just before.

King Harold, Laurence's father, and his mother, Queen Juliana join them quickly afterwards, and strike up a quick rapport with her father. Laurence asks her about her interests but she can't help but feel he feigns to listen. She tries to ask him his own and he instead asks her to dance.

Caught slightly off guard, she looks to her father, but he is deep in conversation with Laurence's parents, and so she can only nod. He takes her hand and whisks her away back to the middle of the ballroom. He bows and she curtseys, and that is the first time that she imagines it is The Huntsman – Graham, she remembers he said his name had been long ago – dancing with her.

When Laurence puts his arm around her waist, they begin to waltz. Emma finds her parents faces in the crowd but they are also dancing, looking very much in love. It's then that she thinks of The Huntsman for a second time. She can't help but think that that is the way that she looked at him, and, she hopes, the way he looked at her.

She can't help but recall the day they danced together, because while they had, separately, been not so good on their feet, they had helped each other along.

They had made each other better.

A third time and she can no longer shake him from her thoughts. She can no longer pretend that he left no impact on her heart. When, in fact, he has left the most lasting one.

Before the music is over, she pulls away from Laurence, says a quick apology and quietly goes to retreat to the balcony that adjoins to the ballroom. She needs the fresh air anyway.

No one sees her leave, her parents still enraptured in each other's eyes, Red and Grumpy both in conversations with others. Pinocchio is busy talking to Alexandria and her parents. Laurence makes his way back over to his mother and father who are dancing.

Emma slips out onto the balcony and goes to the bannister. She looks down at her hands, takes a few deep breaths (in, out; in, out; in, out). She goes to turn and head back inside after a few moments but there is a noise in the tree. She looks up and feels her heart in her throat when she sees the distinct frame of none other than The Huntsman.

He climbs down from his perch. For a moment he is just looking at her, trying to keep her, in all her beauty at this moment, in his mind forever.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, and then she raises her voice, but not so high that anyone else would hear. "Why did you come back here?"

He's surprised that Regina's words aren't resounding in his ears right now – well, surprised yet grateful. It means he gets this moment to set the record straight, at least partially. How could he explain it all to her in whatever few precious moments he has.

"I…" He can't form the proper words. He doubts they'd be very useful anyway.

"You what?" she demands. She gives that expression again; that one of 'you will explain this to me right now' that she has numerous times before. But he can't this time.

So he says what he feels, for the first time in so many years. "I came back to apologise."

She blinks, once, twice but does not move. She doesn't call for the guards or her father or her mother either so he takes that as a good sign.

"I…I'm…I shouldn't have left without saying a proper goodbye." You will take her heart, you will take her heart, you will take her heart, resounds in his ears. Somehow, and he isn't exactly sure, he manages to subdue it. Maybe he's just desperate for her to hear him so much that he can't let go of his control. Nevertheless, it's enough to make him hold on to himself, even if for a few extra moments. "You deserve so much better. A prince, a fairytale, a happy ending."

Emma comprehends his words and then comprehends the fact that he is there, standing in front of her, real and in the flesh and saying these words to her. She shakes her head, in disbelief. Just as she is about to reply, she hears her father.

The Huntsman is ready to be captured by the King but Emma quickly shoos him back into the tree and stands by the bannister. She tries to steady her heartbeat and her nerves are all over the place.

When her father asks if she's okay she just nods. She tells him she needed some fresh air and that she will rejoin the party in a few minutes. He asks if she wants any company but she shakes her head this time.

Her father leaves and, after a couple of silent moments, The Huntsman clambers down from the tree once more.

Emma turns away from him, as she tries to sort through exactly what she is feeling. The part of her that worried about where he had went is relieved he's back, the part that missed him is overjoyed and the part that cursed his name was wondering how she could face him without yelling at him.

"Emma."

At first she thinks of yelling at him. How dare he leave without a single word, only a hastily scribbled sheet of paper telling her anything, and then come back and use her name, in that way, in that voice. But she turns to him and she sees his face and he looks broken.

Slowly, she steps towards him. She steps closer and closer until she is looking up at him. He seems to be so unsure, and she is too, yes she is, but this feels right. This feels more right than dancing with Laurence. This is the most right it's felt since The Huntsman's departure.

"Graham," she says quietly.

He's taken aback for a few moments. But he smiles and nods. He's letting her call him that. He's letting her see him for the man he is. For so long, he's been The Huntsman, closed off and unable to feel, so unlike Graham, the young boy who had two families, who was loved in double measure.

Now he feels as if he's loved in that exact same way.

But he can't fight Regina's words forever, and the minute he smiles is the minute it slips from his face. He feels the pressure on his heart, Regina's clutching it at this very moment. He hears the words. They just resound and resound. His head is swimming and Emma stares at him, so concerned. He knows she's relieving when he had collapsed in the courtyard only days ago.

"Emma, you have to go. You have to go back inside; you have to let me go."

She shakes her head, defiantly. "No, what is the matter? What is it? Tell me."

"Emma," is all he can say.

Hesitantly, she steps forward once more and one more time, she states, "No."

They're pulled towards one another, closer and closer, lips almost touching, when he grabs the dagger from the back of his belt. Now not only are Regina's words controlling him but something else is. It feels different – and stronger – from Regina, but the two battle against each other nonetheless.

She kisses him and he hears it all. He sees it all. He remembers sparing Snow, and losing his heart. He recalls saving Charming. He has dizzying visions of his life all drawn up in his head, while he feels his lips upon hers. He's in a war with himself as the dagger is now behind her back, poised over her heart. But in a flash he feels it drop, he gasps and they pull away from each other, by some unseen force.

Regina's words no longer echo in his ears. He no longer hears her commands.

But it's too little, too late. As he goes to tell Emma – because he can now tell her, Regina no longer holds control over him anymore, by some sort of magic, he believes – she looks concerned and when she turns she sees the dagger, but more than that there is a crowd gathered at the doors.

And they think they know what they saw.

The Huntsman is tackled to the ground by multiple guards. "Emma, Emma, please listen, I can-"

"Don't address my daughter, don't even look at her," the King's voice stands out above all others. The Huntsman looks up and he prays that his end is quick and painless, because this hurts more than he could have ever imagined. "We trusted you. Our daughter trusted you. And this is how you repay us. I wanted to believe better, Huntsman, I really did."

If guests hadn't been milling about in the commotion, The Huntsman is sure that the King would've killed him but instead the other man waves at the guards.

"Take him to the special cell, where we keep The Dark One," he tells them darkly.

The Huntsman tries to meet Emma's eyes but she's standing there shocked, looking at him like he truly murdered her. Their eyes lock and for one second it seems like slow motion, until time speeds up and he's being dragged away (he can't fight, he can't even think) and Emma's being confronted by her mother and Red and her father is making his way over to them.

He can't help but hear Regina's laughter, as if she's mocking him. She has no idea this has happened, and yet this is probably better than she ever could have imagined.

There is a sinking feeling and he wonders if this is her true victory over him.

Chapter Text

Being pulled towards a carriage, he resists the guards for as long as he can. He is all too aware that he has to find some way to speak to Emma, to explain, if he will ever have a chance for forgiveness. Not that he deserves any. In her eyes, he is now a merciless assassin who tried to kill her. He is now nothing more than someone who she let in, who then betrayed her trust. He looks up at the balcony, and finds that he can see her, looking down at him. He can't be sure whether it's because she wants to make sure he's definitely gone or because somehow she knows that something about it isn't right. He hopes it's the latter but is sure it's the former.

There's a gruff warning from one of the guards to hold still. When he still refuses to, he glances upwards. He looks to her in silent pleading. Please, he tries to say in every way apart from speaking, please listen to me. But it goes, understandably, unanswered, and his on-going resistance is rewarded by one of the guards, with a swift blow to the head. He has no chance to fight against the darkness.

He wakes up, to the sound of menacing laughter, the giggling of a monster. The Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, looks across at him and laughs once more. "Took you long enough to get caught, dearie."

The Huntsman can barely respond or understand what the imp means. His head is aching and his whole body hurts. He almost doesn't recall the events which led to this imprisonment but then they come rushing back to him. Ignoring Rumplestiltskin, he rushes to his feet and clamours to the bars. But no one is there and so there is no way for him to plead his case.

"Why am I in here? I can't use magic."

Rumplestiltskin tilts his head and then shrugs. "You were so rude to me before. I think I should reassess whether or not you deserve my help, hmm?"

"I don't have time for this," The Huntsman murmurs, feeling queasy from the blow to his head, as he desperately tries to find some form of escape.

"To the contrary, we have all the time in the world," Rumplestiltskin replies. "So why don't you stop that foolish racket, sit down and we can chat?"

It sounds so casual that The Huntsman forgets who he is dealing with for the moment and rounds on his companion. He has no idea what to say to him, only that his fists are clenched and his head is spinning and that he is in no mood for the riddles in which the magic user speaks.

"No one's coming to see you for a few hours yet anyway," Rumplestiltskin tells him. "But if you don't want my advice-"

"Heeding your advice does no one any good," The Huntsman cuts across. "You manipulate and use and throw aside, that is your way, isn't it?"

"You talk as if you know me, boy," sneers Rumplestiltskin.

"I've heard enough." That is true. Belle had told him many stories; stories about the Dark One and his lust for power, how that had appeared to drown out any love he may have held for anything else. But Belle had always spoken with such reverence, such deep love for the imp. The Huntsman didn't – and still doesn't quite - understand that. All he knows now is that love will push you, and push you and hardly catch you. Love had never been enough to save him. He now worries it will not be enough to save Emma.

His failure is only one more setback for the Queen. He knows her and her methods, and knows she will keep fighting, keep coming for Snow and her family no matter what. She has been on this path to revenge for too long. He dares to think that she doesn't even know what she's 'avenging' anymore.

Not that what's in Regina's mind is of his concern now. He is free from her, he can feel it. She still has his heart, the physical manifestation at least, but his feelings and emotions, they are his and his alone. And it is all thanks to Emma.

"Why did I stop? Why didn't I obey anymore?" It's the question that's currently dancing around his head and if anyone would know the answer it would be Rumplestiltskin.

"Why, the princess of course. You know you felt it. You've been feeling since you first met."

"But why?" He adds a warning tone to his voice which he doubts will intimidate. "And no vague answers. Why?"

"I thought my advice was no good, Huntsman?"

Huntsman. Rumplestiltskin saying it out loud reminds him of the silent permission he had given Emma, in what had only been a few hours ago, when she had used his other name, small and quiet, scared and hesitant.

Graham.

There's no time to dwell on it now. "Why?" he demands.

"Quite tetchy there, hmm?" Rumplestiltskin asks and when the only reply is The Huntsman clenching his fists together tighter than before, he answers. "True love's kiss can break any curse. It's powerful; the most powerful magic in our land. It can reverse mostly anything."

So he was Emma's and she was…

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin replies, as if he can read the younger man's mind. "Quite a story, you see. The Huntsman sent to kill Snow White being the true love of her daughter."

The Huntsman shakes his head. "It's impossible. Without my heart I'd be-"

"Circumstances and connections can alter things considerably. But fate and destiny ensure that these things find their way in the end. Regardless of coincidence, you would have crossed paths with the princess. You would have loved her no matter what the world. That, dearie, is what true love is."

The Huntsman sits on one of the rocks scattered behind the bars of the dungeon. He figures that there are too many 'what ifs' to consider. He just has to, somehow, accept that this is it. That there are multiple ways in which he could have met Emma, as ridiculous as that seems, and that this is the one that stuck.

"What does Regina want with her heart?"

"You have to let me speak to him."

Charming paces the throne room, as Emma sits beside her mother and Red at the table. At Emma's request, Charming shakes his head furiously. He can hardly keep a straight thought and has been unable to since he had walked out onto the balcony to find The Huntsman kissing his daughter, with a dagger poised over her heart.

It had taken all the willpower he possessed not to draw his sword on the man who had once spared his life, at the time, once he had been disarmed and forced to the ground. And even now he was still considering going to the cell, even in this late hour, and running him through with his sword without so much of a second thought.

But he had to be calm, he had to think straight. The distinction between thinking as a King and a father became all the more clearer as they fought each other. The Huntsman was due a fair trial, but there was a blinding anger, the part of him, the aching part that was a father who could have seen his daughter murdered in front of him tonight.

"You will never see him again, Emma. How can you say such a foolish thing?" Charming berates.

Grumpy mutters something about murdering him himself under his breath and Charming appreciates that he isn't the only one having trouble checking his emotions.

Of course Snow had been beside herself with worry at first but now she sits as stoically as he's ever seen her. She still keeps a tight grip and careful eye on their daughter but he can already see the thoughts whirring around in her head. She's trying to rationalise and explain and reason. Like so long ago when Regina had been almost executed, she's trying to see the good.

He cannot fault her for it, as he hadn't been able to last time. It is her penchant to see the goodness in everything and everyone that makes him love her more and more each day.

But he also wonders how she can rationalise this. When it comes to their daughter, how can she think? How can she keep her anger (he can see it bubbling underneath the surface) inside long enough to try and reason it.

Emma also looks shaken up. But she is still fighting for her right to see The Huntsman. Not that any such right exists in Charming's mind. He can hardly piece it together himself.

But it does wander back to one common thread; Regina.

He is sure that somewhere she has played a part in this. The Huntsman was hers for years, and he finds that The Huntsman's story about freeing himself from her clutches after so long holds much to be accounted for. He feels stupid for not investigating more himself while he had the chance. If he could've prevented this, not only the attempt on Emma's life but on her heart, he would've done so without hesitation.

Emma finally speaks up again. "There was something he wanted to say to me. There's…there's a reason, I know there is. If I could just speak to him, he would-"

"He would probably try again," Charming finishes. He is fully aware that was not the end to her sentence but he cannot bear to listen to such protestations any longer. "He was one of Regina's men for years before you were even born, Emma." Turning to his daughter and his wife, and this is a cue Red and Grumpy take to leave, he sits beside them. "Years and years of servitude, he didn't have a heart," Charming wonders if he still doesn't and it had been another lie to add to his story, "a life like that can turn even the greatest man down the darkest path, Emma. And there is no coming back from a path like that."

"But what if it wasn't his-"

"Enough," says Charming. "You will go to your room, and you will not leave under any circumstance until your mother and I come to you. Go." He nods to one of the guards. "I want a full patrol outside of Emma's corridor tonight. Any suspicious behaviour is to be reported to me immediately."

The guard nods. Emma looks to her father, and then her mother, with a pleading look but both nod to the guard and she knows that, for now, she has lost the fight.

Once Emma has left, Snow puts her hand over her husband's and only then does she allow herself to quietly break. He knows her; knows that she is thinking everything he is. But she has always been much fairer, much more forgiving. Here he is seeing what he can only suspect is reflected in his own eyes.

It is a quiet anger, mingled with sadness.

"If it hadn't been for him, I would've been dead. No one would have known apart from Regina. He could have and he didn't…"

Charming doesn't know why she says it but he suspects it's because she has to. Despite anything he has done now, she has to remember. She had always held The Huntsman in the highest regard, and had done everything in her power to free him. But slowly Regina had fallen off the map and taken him with her, it had appeared. Then came the time to rebuild the kingdom, Emma had been born and it had fallen to the wayside.

Charming had always felt guilty for letting that, among other injustices, slide out of their grasp.

"I…I couldn't move, all I could think was I was going to watch our little girl d-." He has to stop himself from saying it because even the thought of losing Emma was like a cold arrow piercing his own heart.

And it was true. He couldn't move. He had been petrified by his own fear. If The Huntsman hadn't dropped the dagger suddenly – Charming had suspected it had been because he had caught a glimpse of him (and he had thanked the heavens that he had decided to check on her once more then) – he had no doubt that he would have made a quick move but would it have been too late?

"Don't," Snow said, her voice hoarse. "We should…we have to…" She looked at him, truly conflicted. "What do we do? A part of me wants to kill him myself," she sounds as if she feels guilty for that and Charming squeezes her hand. He feels the exact same and he wants her to know that, "but another part of me remembers all that he went through. Should we give him a chance?"

"Whenever we give a second chance, more people get hurt, Snow." He thinks of Regina and how she had escaped from execution. "I have no doubt that she comes into some sort of play here. I'm starting to doubt whether or not The Huntsman even truly does have his heart back."

Snow nods sadly, as if the thought had also crossed her mind.

Neither of them makes a sign to leave the table and that's when they realise that they're probably going to be stuck there, in their silence, all night. Because how could they sleep, how could they do anything when every threat they had tried to keep their daughter from her entire young life, is rearing its ugly head now?

Emma doesn't know how her parents expect her to sleep or stay in her room that night. She paces the floor and then sits, and then resumes her pacing. She can't sit still because she's still in shock. Trying to piece it altogether, trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything went wrong. Wondering why he would hurt her.

He had looked at her like he cared, like he was sorry. She cries for an hour, on and off, away from any prying eyes. She doesn't need her father's well-meaning rants of how he's going to have The Huntsman's head nor does she want her mother's soothing comfort. No, she has to be alone now.

She has to figure it out.

She pulls the letter out from its hiding place, and with delicate fingers opens it up. Perhaps there's something here that she missed in her sad anger. She flat out refuses to believe that he meant to kill her. He had dropped the dagger, had he not? Or had that only been because her father had come onto the balcony?

She shakes her head and buries her head in the letter. This holds the answers, she knows it does.

It is in the here and now that she reads the letter with a careful attention she hadn't previously given it, too blinded by her other emotions.

My dear Emma,

By the time you read this I will be gone.

There are many things I wish I could have told you face to face. But the time for both us and for those admissions is long gone. With my departure I only hope that you can be happy and safe. If I have one true regret in all of this it's never telling you that I…but perhaps, the words don't need to be said. If it does, then they are not words for a letter.

I do not expect forgiveness, or for you to try and find me. I go to face my fate, wherever and whatever it may be, as you must yours. Enjoy your ball, dance with your prince and have your happy ending.

Yours truly,

Graham.

She notes that he had written The Huntsman before hastily scribbling it out and amending it with 'Graham'.

But she finds nothing of use in the letter, nothing that gives any indication of the whys of what he did tonight. She knows that there is only one way for her to be absolutely sure – and that is visiting him by herself.

She stands, shaky on her feet, her heart thudding against her chest. She doesn't even know the exact place they took him. If he had been in the palace dungeons it would've been easy to sneak down, but he's in the special cell. She'd only heard of it a few times, in her lessons about magic and in hushed conversations between her parents about The Dark One.

He was really only a story to her as much as The Evil Queen was.

Not knowing what to do next she only gives a resigned sigh and sits back on the bed, taking the letter and gingerly placing it back where she kept it.

There's a knock on her door and she realises this is the comforting portion of her evening. She's surprised when Red, instead of her mother or father, puts her head round the door. With a smile her godmother asks silently for permission to enter the room. Emma grants it with a single shake of her head.

Red closes the door behind her, still wearing her (appropriately red) ballgown. She sits beside Emma and the pair are silent for a moment, before, once more, Emma feels her arms wrap around her. She looks up, with tearful eyes, which Red can hardly bear to look at.

She had never had children of her own. She hadn't thought it would be fair, what with the likelihood of the wolf gene being passed on, and so she had taken special care to dote on Emma, and Pinocchio and even Alexandra when she visited. Emma wasn't her daughter but Red had been there her entire life and it broke her heart to see her suffer through this kind of pain, the worst heartbreak.

"Your parents are discussing things…downstairs."

"You don't have to do that Red." At the older woman's quizzical look, Emma shrugs, trying to seem like she doesn't care when it's the most vibrant pain she's ever felt. "I know they're discussing his exe-" She doesn't make it through the word.

Because it comes to her clear as day. Her parents sitting side by side on their thrones in the courtyard outside, their council surrounding them. Would they make Emma watch? Or would they understand if she couldn't? Nevertheless she'd probably peer from the windows because maybe she'd still believe there was some difference to be made, a piece of the puzzle to give a reprieve at the end of the story.

She'd watch and ache and hope as he was led to the post, blindfolded. He'd be tied up, and the firing guard would assemble. Her mother's features would contort in conflict while her father would stand. The order would be given and Emma would look away, because tears would prevent her from seeing and her legs would prevent her from moving.

It would over in a second. The birds would fly overhead and his limp form would lie there, still tied to the post. It would be a caution that any attempt on her life – or any - was punishable in this way and that would be it.

She doesn't even realise how hard she is sobbing into Red's shoulder until somehow her godmother snaps her out of the reverie she was in. Their eyes meet for a minute and then Emma folds once more. Because as much as she had tried to be angry or remain calm or try to rationalise she had foolishly given her heart away, hadn't she?

And now she'd never know if the story had a different end because she'd never get to ask him. He'd never get to look her in the eye and just tell her. He'd never give her a reason or simply tell her it'd all been a plan, a set up.

The idea of him telling her it hadn't been real for him hurt her as much as imagining his impending death.

Red soothes her. Emma registers the door opening and Red making to leave but she doesn't let go. Emma feels more arms wrap around her; her father and her mother's and she just cries. She lets it all out, until there's no more to be said or sobbed and she gently falls asleep against her mother's shoulder, amidst dreams of fire, blood and hearts.

He dreams of being led to the gallows, he dreams of facing down arrows, he even dreams of the King himself cutting him down. In all of these dreams Emma watches, and she looks at him with cold and unfeeling eyes and she hisses at him. Words like 'deceit' and 'traitor' and 'liar' leave her perfect lips and hurt him more than death ever could.

He wakes to Rumplestiltskin hovering over him and recoils before remembering the events of before clearly. And suddenly the nightmares are reality and the reality is that Emma is still in danger, more than ever before.

He couldn't care less about his fate, so long as the King and Queen listen to what Emma's may be.

It would be destroying enough for them to lose their daughter but to lose their land, their lives, would be the final straw.

And they wouldn't even remember.

If Regina got what they wanted, would they take the curse? Would they simply give up on fighting her if the final act was forgetting their pain?

He didn't believe in that. His life was pain and abandonment and endless tunnels of darkness but it made him who he was. That was pain. He'd rather fight for that than lose it altogether.

"Here come our very special guests," Rumplestiltskin says in an alert tone. "Showtime," he declares with a dramatic flourish of his hand. "Make it count," he adds, in a warning afterthought.

He slinks back into the shadows of his prison. The Huntsman said they wouldn't care enough to need the imp this time around but he doubts that himself.

"Huntsman, you have visitors," the guard says, drawing up beside the cell with the Majesties.

"Where's-" Charming asks sharply.

"Here, dearie, but continue without me," calls Rumplestiltskin from the shadows. "I find watching this to be far more entertaining than what I could add."

The Huntsman tries to look anywhere but where they stand but he can't avoid it forever. "I would like to-"

"I would like to go back in time and stop you from meeting my daughter. I guess we've both had disappointments in our lives," Charming interrupts.

The Huntsman casts his eyes downwards, the shame slamming through him. "I can explain-"

"There is nothing to explain." It is Snow this time. She looks deeply hurt and troubled. "Years ago you spared my life Huntsman, and you saved my husband, and allowed us to live our lives, at the cost of yours. I am sorry."

Both Charming and The Huntsman look confused but she continues.

"But this is not my life, or my husband's, this is Emma's," the love radiates in her voice when she speaks of her daughter, and The Huntsman is grateful, for more and more reasons than he can count that he managed to shake Regina's control when he did, "and for that there can be no forgiveness. You intended to carve my daughter's heart out of her chest," she catches her breath for a moment, as it hitches at even the idea, "and give it to Regina, as per her instructions. It was all a cleverly plotted ruse to get to my family."

He can't exactly deny it. But it's not the truth. "Your Majesty, please, you have to let me explain. It did begin that way," Charming rolls his eyes and Snow only nods sadly as if she's heard it all before and can't bear to be here any longer.

All that they need the royal couple turn to leave but The Huntsman still calls out to them.

"She wants Emma's heart for the curse, to complete it."

This causes them to stop.

Snow turns. "The curse was stopped. The curse is gone."

The Huntsman shakes his head. "Emma's heart can enact the curse. She wants Emma's heart. Please, if you believe nothing of my story, of my truth, then believe that. Hang me, shoot a million arrows to a heart that does not even reside in my chest, but keep her heart safe," his voice cracks and he has to struggle to finish, "keep her safe."

They say nothing, but Snow's eyes shimmer and she turns to her husband who nods, and with a quickening pace they leave the cell.

All The Huntsman can do is hope that his pleas have not fallen on deaf ears.

Chapter Text

The Huntsman's warning, and the impassioned way in which he gave it, keeps Snow distracted as the day goes on. There are multiple meetings with the council and dignitaries. All wish to show their deepest regret that the Princess's birthday ball ended on the note that it did. They give their fullest support for whichever method of punishment Snow and Charming deem fit for the man who attempted to take their daughter's life.

The young prince Laurence respectively, on his parents' urging, ask whether or not he would be deemed fit enough to court Emma – when the dust from this chaos dies down. Snow, nor Charming, give no sure reply but assure that if the time comes they will send word. It is not their intention to send Emma off into a loveless or arranged marriage and Laurence is a decent enough man. Snow tries to be confident that when the time comes Emma will see so too and will grow to like him.

Tries is the operative word when she recalls all of the conversations she and her husband had had with Rumplestiltskin. The imp had been deliberately vague and cryptic; he spoke in riddles and hushed tones, but the meaning of his words always seemed to be abundantly clear. While Snow still had fears that Rumplestiltskin implied The Huntsman was Emma's true love, she had dismissed them. True love did not do what The Huntsman had attempted. True love was not selfish or cruel or manipulative. It fought, it overpowered and eventually, it won.

Snow asks Emma about her impression of Laurence when they are sitting in her room, only an hour or so after Snow and Charming returned from their talk with The Huntsman. Snow wants to keep her daughter close by; the warning about the curse has shook her straight to the core, and she could see the same on Charming's face.

"He was nice," Emma says, visibly struggling to get the words out. It's obvious the prince, while not horrible in the slightest, has failed to leave any impression on her. Snow puts that down to the traumatising events of the night before. It will take time before Emma fully trusts anyone again. The realisation upsets Snow.

She places her teacup on the table between them and takes her daughter's hand. "I'm sorry that this had to happen, Emma. I wish-"

Emma turns away from her. "He didn't do it," she says finally. "On the balcony, he looked like he was in pain, like something was," her voice sounds like it is thick with emotion but she pushes through it anyway, "controlling him. If I could just see-"

"Enough!" Snow says. "Enough." Shaking her head, she takes one hand and places it on Emma's face so that she can hold her gaze while speaking. She makes her voice stronger than she feels, but with a sweetness to take the edge off the harsh words. "That was all a guilty conscience, Emma. And a guilty conscience cannot justify it. I will always live with the things I have done that have led to all these lives being destroyed, his included. But I cannot lose you. I refuse to."

"And you love him," Snow continues, sadly. She's known it, even before Emma did she supposes. "And because of that you don't want to see the wrong, but he admitted, Emma, he admitted that that was his intention."

"Did you let him explain?"

"Well-"

"Did you let him explain?" Emma repeats, snapping her head to face her mother. "I thought you were fair; good and true."

"When it comes to your life, Emma, I can't afford myself that," snaps Snow. She still keeps a hold of Emma's hand, even when Emma tries to let go herself. "Your father and I have discussed it and when the execution date is set," Deliberately, Snow keeps her eyes to the ground because she can't bear to see the pain, "you will be allowed to see him one last time; if that is what you wish. You will also not be required to attend."

"Why?" Emma pleads and Snow is caught so off-guard by the small, broken voice, so quiet and so unlike her daughter. "Why can't you just ask him?"

Snow realises it could be that easy but he could lie. He's already proven that he can't be trusted, that Regina still holds some measure of control. "Because, one day, when you're the Queen, and you're a mother, you will understand that the hardest option is sometimes the only one you can take." She kisses the top of Emma's head.

"Please leave," Emma asks. Her head is cast downward. "Please."

It's not the demand of someone who hates her, and so Snow does not take it that way. She stands, puts the teacups on the tray and walks out the room. With one look back, she knows it's the request of a woman who is grieving, and Snow hates herself for it.

Charming finds his wife in the kitchen and sees the obvious stress in the way she cleans the cup in her hand. She scrubs it but it falls and the delicate china breaks, obviously pushed too far.

"Hey," he says softly, bending down beside her and helping gather the pieces. She doesn't answer him. "Why were you-"

Snow shakes her head. "Had to do something other than talk to the council or about The Huntsman or…" She lets Charming gather the rest and stands by one of the sinks. "None of this feels right, Charming."

Once he stands and places the pieces on the top of a counter, Charming takes her shoulders gently. "We are doing what is necessary, Snow." He looks at her, as if to ask 'please help me believe this' but she, for reasons he knows, can't, at least not fully.

"We have to go meet with the council now, don't we?"

Charming nods. Snow responds by pulling him closer and embracing him. In his arms all the worries and doubts manage to fade away somehow, even if for a moment. "We will let Emma see him before, won't we?" she asks, her voice almost a quiet whisper. She wants to keep this one promise to their daughter.

Again, Charming gives a slight nod. He had been against this idea before but Snow had talked him round during their return journey to the castle earlier that morning. Maybe seeing him would give Emma the closure she needed.

Charming places a kiss on the top of Snow's head and with that the royal couple leave the kitchens.

"If I could, I'd take my pickaxe and make him bleed myself."

"Grumpy!"

"What?"

The dwarf looks innocently around the room, and there's a silent support for the plan but Snow keeps a level head.

"We have agreed that the evidence negates the need for a trial," she surmises hesitantly. Emma's words about being fair and good and true come back to her but she rids herself of them before she can take a further pause, "and so a date must be set for the execution."

"Your Majesty, if I may," Jiminy says from where he stands on the table, "I would like to speak to The Huntsman before the execution."

"Jiminy, I hardly think-"

"Yes," Snow agrees, interrupting her husband, who stands beside her, "I think some sense of closure will be good for him." With a deep breath, Snow realises there is only one more question to ask, "All in favour of death by firing squad say aye."

She holds her breath as there's a chorus of ayes around the room and Charming nods. No going back now. "The date will be set for tomorrow at sundown," he announces. It's soon but for a prisoner of such high priority it is deemed a necessity. "Jiminy, you will be allowed to give counsel to The Huntsman when he arrives at the castle dungeons tomorrow at sunrise."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Members of the council go to leave but Charming holds his hand up in a halting gesture. Those already out of their seats retake them while everyone else looks in confusion at their King and Queen. "One more thing," Charming says. "This has been a terrible time of late, and we fear that The Huntsman's attempt is only one of many now planned on Emma's life." It hurts to say the words, as a father, but as a King, they are needed. "We do not want to cause panic but we have reason to believe that this could be a sign of Regina returning. We will need everyone on guard and ready for battle at a moment's notice."

Murmurs go around the table and Snow goes to quiet them. "Do not be afraid of her. We have bested Regina before, we can do so again."

It is at this point that the members of the council take their leave. Once they have all left, Snow falls back into her seat, with the distinct fear that everything is going to get worse before it can become better.

Snow tells Emma later on that the date has been set. Emma keeps composed and calm in front of her mother but there are signs of the breaking. Gently, Snow takes her by the shoulders.

"Would you like to see him tomorrow?"

When her daughter nods, Snow returns it, with confidence. It is the last shred of closure she can possibly give her daughter and her relationship with The Huntsman. A bond that Snow had never thought, in a million lifetimes, would run this deep or even form.

She asks to be left alone and Snow abides by her wishes, but not before hugging her. "I love you, sweetheart. You know that."

Emma can't deny it and she never would. She nods to her mother. "Of course."

"Your father too. We may do these things Emma, but they are for you, for your safety." With tears in her eyes, Snow adds. "That's all that matters to the both of us."

With those parting words, Emma watches her mother go and sits on her bed. She tries to compose herself as best as she can but she can already feel the sobs escaping her. At first, she tries to imagine it as not that bad. She tries to be angry at him, but a part of her knows, a huge part, that it is wrong, that there is something else to this story.

And so she tries to suppress them, until she thinks of it. She lets her mind wander to the moment he will be lifeless and it is all too much. She paces and she paces (she's been doing that a lot these days) and moves to her window, remembering the night they had walked in the palace gardens.

She had seen him smile for one of the first times that night, and now she realises that it had been one of the only times he had ever done so in such a long time.

And she had been privy to that; to a heart he had kept so locked up and closed off. He deserved that, he still did, she's sure of it. Her faith has not been misplaced, like everyone keeps telling her. She refuses to believe it. But what can she do? She's never been able to do much of anything.

She reads the letter once more, finding the comfort she can't find in a smile or a laugh from Graham (because that is his name now, at least to her, and if tomorrow ends with his light gone, it will be the light of Graham, not of The Huntsman) in the words he had presented her with when he had left.

As she tries to sleep that night she almost drowns because their time is almost up, and it's closing around her and she does fall asleep, but among murmurs, in her mind, of goodbyes.

He barely registers what's happening as he's pulled from the cell, roughly, and taken to a carriage. He's still half-asleep, having been woken from his nightmares by the sound of the guards. Blinking the last of the sleep from his eyes, there is a moment of surprise as the doors of the carriage are wretched open at the end of the short journey.

He's pulled out again, and too weak to resist, finds that they are in the courtyard of the palace. No one mills about. The King and Queen stand in front of him.

"You are charged with treason and an attempt on the crown," Charming says evenly. Any anger he still has reserved for the man in front of him, and The Huntsman is sure that it is there, is masked well. "Do you accept these charges?"

Once more he is too weak to fight, and too tired to refuse his fate. It's like he's been running from it since Regina tore his heart out all those years ago. He's been waiting for this, hasn't he? He just wants to lay down. So he nods.

"I do."

Charming and Snow look taken aback at the readiness to accept the charges put across to him but they take it. There is no point in making this harder than it already has been.

Snow goes to speak. "You will be put to death by firing squad tonight, as sun falls."

The Huntsman nods once more, a lump in his throat. Before he met Emma he might have just taken this, numb as he was, but he's not numb anymore. He feels more vividly than he ever has in his life. And still he accepts it. He accepts it quietly and with a shred of the dignity and grace he might still have.

Snow adds, before he is led away. "You will be given counsel, soon, by our advisor." He sees her struggle. "And you will be allowed one visit from the princess before your execution."

He's shocked by this and it shows on his features. "My warning from yesterday," he says quietly and the guards go to restrain him, but Snow halts them with a move of her hand. "Please do not think of it lightly."

He is led away to the dungeons of the castle. Snow and Charming watch, knowing that once this is over, it will not be finished, not truly, until Regina is no longer a threat.

The cricket, the one he had met the day he came to the palace, is on a table. A piece of glass was set before him before he arrived, in order to make him seem bigger than he was. Now the bug watches him with careful eyes.

"You don't want to die."

The Huntsman only gives a gruff noise in reply to that.

"Something's changed in you. The light won out in the end."

"Look at how much good the light's done me now, cricket," replies the man defensively.

The cricket smiles, and The Huntsman wonders about what. As if reading his mind, Jiminy replies. "It was her, all along. She was the light. And that light isn't gone, Huntsman, but you tried, you tried to snuff out that light, didn't you?"

Does it even matter now that Regina was controlling him? That now she's probably planning something worse than anyone can imagine all because he couldn't carry out his mission in the first place is of a higher importance in his mind.

If he dies today, but Emma lives because her parents heed his warning, will his death be worth it? Or will it just mean more confusion and devastation lies in its wake.

And even if they were to find out the truth, that his mind, his heart had not been his own, would they care?

"Yes, I did," he replies. "Is that what you want? A confession? Because I've given you one."

Jiminy shakes his head but says nothing.

"It changes nothing," The Huntsman snaps, wishing that the cricket would stop with his meaningless drivel and leave him to spend his final hours in solitude. "I am still to die today. I am now an assassin, and that is akin to a liar. Anything I say, no matter how truthful, is still a lie to them!"

"Perhaps that is the case, but I am here to offer you guidance, to help you see the end in a way that doesn't scare you."

"I'm not scared," he replies.

But he is. Not of the actual dying. He's sure that the torture that Regina has put him through will still eclipse the actual pain of dying. But he's finally realised he doesn't actually want to leave. Emma deserves better, and when he let her go, he was being selfless. But he realises now how abundantly selfish he really is. Because he left the door open there. He didn't say goodbye forever. Because he doesn't think he ever can say goodbye, with finality, to her.

And yet in a few hours he will.

He's never believed in anything before. He's never had anything to live for and now he does. And that is what scares him, has scared him from the moment he met her, even if it had been for mere minutes, in the forest two years ago.

With a sigh, the cricket extends his wishes to The Huntsman – as if wishes will do him well now – and is escorted out of the dungeon.

He manages to sleep for a few hours before the doors creak open, and for a split second he thinks that this is it. That it is now time to face death in the eye. The heart that he doesn't even possess, is caught in his throat.

But then there's blonde hair and he almost can't believe it's her.

"E-Emma." He barely manages to say her name as she closes the dungeon door behind her, and stands there, silently regarding him.

He braces himself for the hate, the anger, to just pour from her, closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see it in hers. But then he feels a hand on top of his own clasped ones. And suddenly there's another hand. That's when he is brave enough to open his eyes, and find her staring at him from across his knees, which had been up against his chest.

Her eyes are brimming with tears.

"Emma, I," he repeats, but she shushes him.

It's then he realises that he's also crying with her.

"God, Emma, I'm sorry," he tells her, his voice catching. This isn't how he wants her to remember him, but she has to know. If no one else believes him, he needs her to.

She's the only one who's seen the full good of him, the selfless and the brave, the loving and the vulnerable. She's the only one he's ever let see the pain and this if this is how it ends, before he earns his one way ticket to Hell, then she's going to know everything.

"It wasn't me, it was her," he explains. He takes one of his hands and places it over her heart, their faces only inches away from each other. Emma places her hand over his own. "She wants this and she can never have it. No matter what happens to me Emma, please know that I'll take it. I'll pay this price if it means your parents keep you safe."

She shakes her head. "What do you-?"

He takes the hand that's been on her heart and cups her cheek with it. "When I first met you, two years ago, that was real. And when we met again, that was the beginning of a ruse." She goes to turn from him, but he can't lose her now. It's stupid but he can't bear this to be what he thinks of him in the end. She turns her face but only ever so slightly. "But that's where it ended. I knew quickly, I would never be able to do it."

"You made me feel things, Emma, that I never thought I'd feel again," he continues, and he almost breaks. Almost. But he has to be strong now. He's been strong his entire life and he can't stop that now. "But I did. I remember what it is to feel. Thank you."

"So the dagger-"

"When you kissed me, you broke it, her control," he says, "and thank you for that. When I die today, I die as a free man, and not Regina's puppet."

Finally looking at him again, she allows herself to cry.

"I want to know now, you know?" he says, after a moment, trying to take her mind off this moment.

Her voice hitches. "Know what?"

"About them," he replies. "My parents." He lets go of her hand, and looks to the space beside him. "Maybe you can tell me what you found?"

She swivels around and sits by him, looking down at her dirtied gown and not caring, silently trying to process what he's asking. When she finally realises she doesn't look at him, only tilts her head so that it's on his shoulder.

He's surprised by the action but pleased all the same and smiles in spite of the fact that he is to die soon.

Doesn't matter, he thinks, as long as she's here, as long as she's safe.

With the barest hint of a smile in her voice she tells him. "You won't believe it."

"Try me."

She gives a small laugh. It's in the laugh that he forgets, for the slightest fraction of a second, that it may be the last he hears it. But it's enough.

"Robin and Marian were their names. They were fugitives, on the run from the ruler of someplace far from here. But they settled in this realm." She pauses, and looks up to him, deciding to take his hand. "Are you okay?"

He nods. "Please continue." It's comforting in a way, to finally know a small sliver of the truth, so close to the end.

"But they were found. The census puts them down as murdered, but there was a child, an infant, missing. I'm not sure, but I think it was you. I'm sorry I don't know more, I shouldn't have even-"

He looks to her, and smiles. She smiles back, weakly. "It's enough. Thank you."

He tries to put everything in that thank you. He's trying to thank her for everything she doesn't even know she's done for him.

"I love you."

It's her way of saying thank you, but more, and he knows this. He didn't even need the words, if he's being honest, because a part of him has always known, in the same way in which he knows he loves her – has always loved her.

"I love you too."

And there is a final kiss. It's passionate, and his hands find their way into her unruly curls, which she clings to him, as if just by kissing him she can change everything. She can change the fact that he is to die soon; she can give him a happy ending. She can make her parents believe.

But no amount of kissing can do that, it can only bring her joy and sadness and anger and grief all over again. They eventually pull apart, but only when there's a tap on the door. It opens and her father's head appears, obviously displeased at what he sees before him.

"It's time."

Emma shakes her head, and the dread piles up in The Huntsman, but somehow they both stand to their feet. They stare at each other for what seems like the longest time, until they finally have to let go. The Huntsman, reluctantly, lets go of her hand and nods to Charming.

Emma strides past her father, but not before sending The Huntsman one more painful look.

He looks down, not wanting her father to see the tears that threaten to fall.

"Please remember what I said about Regina," The Huntsman warns as he holds his wrists out to be cuffed. "I wish I could have-"

Charming only stares at him coldly, but his face softens a little at the realisation that, whatever happened, perhaps The Huntsman did have some depth of caring for his daughter. But not enough, never enough, to overturn what had happened.

Charming nods.

And then it really is time.

It's the longest walk of his life from the dungeon to the post.

She watches from the window as he's led to the post.

He's blindfolded so he can see nothing, just hear the crowds talking and taunting, cheering his imminent demise.

She wishes she couldn't hear it. She wishes she could block it out. But it follows her wherever she tries to hide in the palace, and eventually she can't move, why won't her feet move?

He looks up, his other senses alert now that his sight is compromised. He hopes she isn't here.

There are no reprieves, no other endings to this story. He is going to die and she is going to watch because her feet just won't move, why won't they move?!

He's glad he's tied to this post, he barely has the strength to stand. Please don't be here, Emma, please don't be here. And this is when he allows himself the weakness of tears because who is going to see them now?

Her father gives the order. She wants to run down, wants to scream to him, tell him once more that she loves him, but she's immobilized.

He hears the order and the arrows are lifted. He is given a chance for last words and all he asks is what he has been asking since he was arrested. To keep her safe, to keep Emma's heart safe.

And then it is over.

As the arrows pierce his skin, he feels nothing, and she falls, falls to her knees.

Chapter Text

She's only vaguely aware of her knees hitting the ground. Her hands shake furiously, and so does the rest of her body. In a vain attempt to calm down she wraps her arms around herself but the scream flies from her mouth anyway. It's followed by a quiet succession of sobs. Someone bends down beside her. Arms hold her and rock her gently as she cries. She is empty and hollow and while some part of her feels stupid for letting another person take her to this edge; she can't listen to that voice. It is drowned out by the part of her that saw the arrows being lined up, that heard her father's voice and had watched as the man she loved sagged lifeless against the post that he was tied to.

She is still being soothed and she looks up to find Pinocchio fussing over her. He's always been more than a friend to her; he's like her older brother. He's not here often but when he is he protects and comforts her. But nothing, not even his calming presence can help her now. She aches all over, and can't even think about standing up. She knows she'll have to. People will be milling about the corridors soon and it simply won't do for her to be in the middle of one having a very public breakdown.

But she wants nothing more than to reject what is and what isn't proper for her. Not even an hour has passed since she told him that she loved him, and Emma will never have the chance again. The realisation, that he will never smile at her again, never tease her lightly or laugh, sends a shudder through her and she can only sob once more.

"Emma, we're going to have to move s-"

"No!"

The ferocity in her own voice takes her aback and she looks up to her dearest friend, trying to apologise without words. He understands perfectly and continues to hold her. Soon, someone else is beside him. Emma sees that's it Alexandria.

The other princess doesn't know what she can say to make it right and so Emma hopes she doesn't try. The pair of them mean well, she knows this, but she fears that neither truly understands what she has lost. When they shot the arrows, it's like they shot them at her as well. She felt it. Not completely, not as he did, but she felt the sharp end to life. That connection, what it was and what it means she's lost scares her more than anything she can imagine.

She cries only a little longer, before shaking Pinocchio's arms and trying to stand. Her legs are trembling non-stop and so she leans her hand on the windowsill, trying to regain some balance. But her eyes catch the crowd outside, as the body is taken away.

And while it doesn't send her back to her knees (she has to be strong now; she has to try) she still closes her eyes and desperately tries to be a world away from here. She tries to be in the world where he did not die in front of her and where that last kiss was only the second of many.

But that world is a fairytale and it is also a lie.

Alexandria stands beside her.

"Emma," she says gently, taking her friend's arm. "Come on, Emma, we have to-"

Emma can only shake her head, barely listening.

"Emma." It's Pinocchio's voice now. "Emma," he repeats. "We have to go. Nothing can be done for him now. I'm sorry."

She refutes the apology, shaking her head. "He was a good man," she muses, almost to herself, and not to those around her. "He didn't deserve it." The ghost of the kiss still resides on her lips. "He didn't deserve anything that happened to him. His life was," she gulps down the emotion, and it changes. It's not grief anymore; although grief will continue on. It is anger, "dark and horrible and he had no chance."

She finally lets herself be led away from the window but not before looking back and realising that nothing will ever be the same again.

At first it's like his beloved Belle is with him again. But, Rumplestiltskin muses, it is all an illusion concocted to prey on the one thing he loved that was left in this land. It fades as quickly as it first appears, replaced by Regina standing before him, smirking and taunting his fears.

"Your Huntsman failed, dearie," he says to her, his voice quiet in the cold darkness. "They know it was you, they know and they will be ready for you. No more time, Your Majesty."

Regina sneers. "There is always time when you have power. You taught me that, Rumple. How could you forget?" She steps back and shrugs. "As for The Huntsman, there are things I will," an upturned smile of red lips, "miss but his loss is a sacrifice that was required."

"You talk as if you intentionally sent him to death yourself," Rumplestiltskin comments. "As if you never really meant for him to take her heart."

Shaking her head, Regina replies, "Oh no, it was meant. I was going to destroy him and kill her. My curse would be enacted. How could I go wrong? But feelings, Rumple, love, as they all so often call it, it's a weakness, and was his undoing."

She gives a small laugh. "She will join him soon enough. It's poetic almost."

"And how can you be so sure?" asks Rumplestiltskin. "Snow White and her prince will come for you."

"I have no doubt," Regina says, with an air of confidence that Rumplestiltskin finds to be all too familiar to his own. He had never truly regretted turning Regina's heart to coal; not until his curse failed and he was stuck in his prison for more than two decades.

Decades in which what he truly wanted was out of his grasp and decades which he had also taken from the only other person he loved.

It was in this time that he could only look back on the regrets of his life but he still needed his power; he still needed his curse to work.

Using the Saviour's heart had been a last minute amendment to the powerful spell. He had considered whether it would be a risky one but had decided that if only he knew then he would be able to do it himself, if his situation became truly desperate.

It was how he recognised Regina's mask of confidence and power for what it truly was. Desperation. The desperation of a woman who had lost everything and had retreated further back to power and destruction. Tired of losing, she didn't care if getting her revenge on Snow killed her, as long as she had it.

If, in her dying breath, Regina saw Snow taking hers too, she would gladly die.

And it was that that, between the two of them, made her vastly more dangerous. Where Regina would die to have what she wanted, Rumplestiltskin's hinged on living.

"And what do you plan to do about it?" he asks her, knowing she has some sort of plan in place against her enemies.

"Now why would I share that with you? For all I know you could continue to play for both sides. And I can't have that." She gives a mock pout. "The cage suits you, Rumple," she adds.

He nods in agreement. "I quite agree with you, Majesty," the imp confirms, "but I'm not the only monster who should be behind its bars."

One more hiss and Regina is gone. Rumplestiltskin sighs. Soon, it will be time. If the princess wasn't the key to the curse being broken once it was enacted then he would have had very few reservations about Regina's plan to try to recast it.

But his plans have now been altered and things will move quickly, too quickly for anyone to really comprehend. He looks at the potion, now brewing in the corner. The magic in his cell has been wearing thin for quite some time. The multiple threats have meant that the fairies and dwarves are still working on the enchantment dust, and it has also meant he can practice magic in a small, contained amount.

He has a few aces up his sleeve, as the saying went. He just has to hope she didn't have one of her own beyond her usual tricks.

In a rare silent moment since the events of Emma's birthday ball, Snow sits by the window and tries to think of the right way in which she can approach her daughter. Once the execution had taken place, and the body had been taken away (Snow had tried her best not to cry but she had shed her tears amidst the confusion surrounding the dignitaries who witnessed it, while even Charming had been shaken though he would never admit it) she and her husband had slowly walked to Emma's room, only to open the door to find Pinocchio and Alexandria sitting with her.

Knowing that, at that moment, Emma wouldn't wish to see them, the pair had left. Charming had offered to give Snow time to herself while he would entertain the guests. She had been grateful. Even after all these years, she still felt as if she had owed The Huntsman her life, and to think that she had taken his own…

It was the same way she had felt whenever she thought of the impending final stand-off with her ex-stepmother. Regina was too far gone, too many second chances that she hadn't taken, but Snow still also owed her, as with The Huntsman, her life.

And now by her window, Snow tries to find some way to ease her guilt because she knows she shouldn't feel it. Her only family had been lost by Regina's hand. Now, Snow was trying to protect the one she had built for herself. And there was the distinct feeling that she was failing miserably.

A knock on the door brings her out of her reverie. She calls for whoever was there to enter, and stands. It's a guard.

"Doc requests your presence in the infirmary."

Snow tilts her head to the side. "Did he say why?"

The guard shakes his head and so Snow nods. "Has he called for my husband as well?" This time the guard nods in reply.

"He's also requested the princess is present."

"I don't think-"

"She told me she'd be right there."

Snow is surprised and somewhat hurt that Emma seemed more readily able to respond to guards rather than herself or Charming but dismisses the feeling as the anxious knot in her stomach grows.

"Tell Doc I will join them shortly," she finally says.

The guard leaves and Snow begins to pace. What could Doc possibly need herself, Charming and Emma for?

When Emma finally makes her way down to the infirmary, she finds her parents already waiting outside for her. They looked shocked, and she wonders what they think they could possibly say to her. Her father is no fool. He was privy to those last moments shared between herself and The Huntsman. His loss is no ordinary wound; it's like a gaping hole and she has no idea how to fix it.

It just won't stop hurting.

They stand when they see her.

But before they say anything, the door opens and Doc comes to join them.

Her father tries to say something before he begins but he's cut off by the medic's assessment.

And Emma can barely believe her ears. She's sure she's gone crazy because it can't be. Doc can't be telling her that, while The Huntsman is barely responsive, he's still alive. Doc can't be giving her that last shred of hope before it is cruelly ripped away again. Emma feels her knees give way but arms catch her and she looks up at her mother.

Snow gives the faintest hint of a smile.

"It's a lie," Emma chokes out. "He can't be alive. He can't. No one could-"

"No one with a heart," Snow replies, quietly. She nods to Charming, who sits on one of the seats, and then guides Emma to sit in the middle, taking up the seat beside her.

"Doc was examining him before we buried him. He stirred, Emma. Doc thinks it's because his heart wasn't there."

Emma shakes her head. "It can't be," she says. "He's-he-I saw it." She can't let herself hope and fall into that trap. Hope is a dangerous thing. And more often than not, all it does is cause more pain.

The last time she felt hope it ended with The Huntsman holding a dagger to her back and her whole safe world crashing in around her ears.

"Can I see him?" she asks, finally, quietly.

She doesn't see the look her parents share over her head but she can feel them staring at one another. Finally, she feels her father give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Come on," he says, standing, and gently pulling her up with him. With an arm around her shoulders, he opens the infirmary doors and leads her in. Snow also enters.

Emma quickly breaks out of her father's grasp, however, and rushes over to where The Huntsman lies.

He looks peaceful; probably the most peaceful she has ever seen him. He smiles. And she can see the rise and fall of his chest. She takes his rough hand in her own, and clings for dear life, with tears in her eyes.

"Are you sure he's not just slowly d-" She stops herself from even saying the word but Doc can determine her meaning well enough and shakes his head.

"The impact and amount of arrows sent should have killed him in an instant. From what I can tell, it's magic that's keeping him alive now. I believe the Queen still having his heart saved him."

"So we need magic to save him now then," Emma concludes quietly, almost to herself but her parents overhear.

"Emma, just because he survived-"

"So, I'm supposed to let him die? Again?"

Her mother steps between herself and her father. "Maybe we can discuss this elsewhere."

While her mother speaks with her father, Emma continues to hold onto The Huntsman's hand. While he doesn't open his eyes, he murmurs slightly. And Emma is sure that among the slurred and disjointed words, she hears some coherent semblance of her name.

Momentarily forgetting where she is, Emma places a tender hand to his cheek and bends down and presses a kiss to it. It's a promise, she thinks. Letting him walk away from her, to the firing squad, watching as the multiple arrows pierced his skin, it almost broke her.

If he got his heart back only to do so a second time, she's sure it would kill her too.

So she promises him that he will live this time, that this second chance is a sign from the beyond. He will have a chance at a full life. She has to believe it firmly because otherwise the idea would topple her.

"Will he wake up?" she asks Doc quietly, as her parents continue their discussion.

Doc gives a slight shrug, indicating that he is unsure. "The arrows would have killed him, princess, had his heart been intact. I can heal some of the damage done, and fairy dust will help greatly, but without his heart he could just remain like this forever."

"But you don't know for sure?" Emma asks hopefully, and already a plan is forming. When her father had mentioned The Dark One on the night of the ball he had unknowingly sent her mind into a spin. She had been reading about the creature, the man turned monster with power, since she was a child. He was as much of a story as The Evil Queen was.

But now…now he is real and Emma is sure that a magic user that powerful would know something, anything that could help.

"I want you to let me see…him."

Both her parents look confused.

"The Dark One," adds Emma, in a quiet voice. "He'll know-"

"Absolutely not!" says her father, shaking her head. He looks to her mother for support but is instead faced with her looking as if she is considering the idea. "Snow, you can't be-"

"All of this is happening because she doesn't know," her mother says, in a quiet voice. "If we had told her more…"

"Mother…"

Emma sends a small smile her mother's way, trying to tell her, in some way, that she could never fully blame her, or her father.

"Don't defend it," her mother tells her, with an understated smile in her direction. "If you had known everything before, it may have never come to this." She turns to her husband. "I say we let her do it."

Her father tries to see some sort of way to reason with her, but Emma refuses to give in. She has to do this. She gently takes the hand of The Huntsman.

Maybe that's when her father changes his mind, maybe not. She doesn't know. All she does know is that he gives his permission, but with the insistence that he will accompany her to the cell and they will ride out at sundown.

Her parents leave, as does Doc, and Emma, noting that she has time, pulls a stool over and sits, keeping a tight grasp on The Huntsman's hand.

"Please, Graham, please come back to me."

There's a still in the air when they enter his domain but Rumplestiltskin can feel the winds of change blowing harshly around him. Years of imprisonment have made it easy to tell who's visiting him this time. The familiar presence of the King is there, but with the added bonus of the princess.

He's been waiting for this meeting since before she was born.

Originally conceived as the Saviour, she was meant to be the key to finding his son. That was until his curse failed. She was still powerful though; there was no doubt in that. Any child born of such pure true love had to be. And so she would still have her use, all in time, all in the new plan he had created all those long years ago.

Normally he has to be drawn out into the light but this time he can't wait to see, in the flesh, the Saviour. Emma. The name has its own power.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he says, in a loud, high pitched voice that makes the princess visibly jump.

As any good father would, Charming places a hand on her shoulders and calms her, leading her so that they are a safe distance away from the cell but also close enough to speak with Rumplestiltskin.

He only smiles at this. "Apologies for the fright, princess. I've just been so very eager to meet with you." With a smile thrown in Charming's direction, Rumplestiltskin then sets his eyes on Emma and smirks, waiting for her to speak.

"You know why I've come to you, don't you?" she asks, raising her torch just a little higher, trying to get a good luck at his face.

Rumplestiltskin shrugs, and gives a mock-frown. "Now, dearie, that all depends, I guess."

"No riddles," snaps Charming. "You know why we are here, of course you do. And you will tell my daughter what she wishes to know."

"So you can kill the man she loves for good?"

He notices how both of their faces change at this but Emma shakes her head. "He's innocent. I'll prove it."

There's a naivety in the conviction but Rumplestiltskin can somewhat believe her just by determination alone. Giving a smirk to Charming he notes, "She's the best of your wife, I'll give you that much."

Charming says nothing in response.

"Please," Emma asks against the silence. "There must be something we can do, something I can do to get his heart back from Regina."

"Ahh, the dear Queen and her collection, yes?"

Emma nods.

Rumplestiltskin shrugs. "All my knowledge is like my deals. It comes with a price."

"We've given you enough," Charming retorts quickly but Emma raises her hand to silence her father. She treds closer to the cell.

"What do you want?"

"A bean, a magic bean." When Emma says nothing, but Charming looks as if he is about to protest, Rumplestiltskin stops him. "And don't try to tell me that you don't have them." As a thoughtful aside he adds, "I can see these sort of things."

"Yes," Emma agrees.

And so Rumplestiltskin tells her. Tells her that she will have to travel to Regina's palace and get the heart from her directly from a special vault. Her father says no, that it will be too dangerous but it appears the princess has grown weary from her father's warnings, and continues to listen intently to Rumplestiltskin.

"And the heart, how do I-"

"That depends on the period of time the heart has been removed," expands Rumplestiltskin. "If it had been a matter of weeks, months even, it would be simple but alas…"

"Another price?" asks the stoic princess, but with a demeanour that says she is willing to pay it.

This delights Rumplestiltskin, and against the protests of the King, he tells her that there will be a woman in the palace; a prisoner, Belle, an innocent who was dragged into the decades-long duel between himself and Regina. It's a vulnerability but he has to take the chance while he has it.

"You love her," Emma says simply. "That's why you want her-"

Rumplestiltskin nods, trying not to get too stuck on this moment and realisation. Even Charming seems oddly silenced by this.

"It matters not," insists Rumplestiltskin. He produces, from behind him, a vial.

"Pour this onto the heart when you retrieve it," he explains, "and it will be easily restored to the dear Huntsman."

"And what kind of potion is that?" asks Charming, seeming to be genuinely interested in the vial he produced.

"Why, it's the hair you gave me," he says to the King, with a smile. "Your daughter's and The Huntsman's, combined. The most powerful magic in the world. True love."

Chapter Text

Charming finds Emma where he suspects he would; sitting by The Huntsman's prone form in the castle' infirmary. He stands in the doorway as his daughter speaks to the man, the man who only a day ago he condemned to death.

And also the man his daughter loves.

"I'm going to get your heart back, I promise," she says clearly. Her voice is clear and precise; sharp and determined, like he's always known Emma to be. He's proud to say she's like him in that sense. "I won't let her win, not this time."

As Emma places a kiss to The Huntsman's forehead, Charming fears that he is interrupting an intimate moment and he understands why. Rumplestiltskin's words have stayed with him. Declaring that Emma and The Huntsman were true love; well, that was like pieces of a puzzle aligning in his mind.

He hadn't truly wanted to believe it; and yet he and Snow had both suspected it, in their own ways. It had been one of Snow's most pressing concerns in going ahead with the execution in the first place. Charming isn't sure where they will stand once The Huntsman gets his heart back. Will he be able to look at the man and see him for more than one of Regina's prized men, or will someone else look back?

All he knows now is that while The Huntsman remains parted from his heart, and this world, Emma does so too. She carries it with her gracefully; with a steely nerve he's quite sure she didn't quite inherit from himself or Snow, but instead built herself, but he can see it.

He remembers when he carried that separation as if it was only yesterday that he met Snow and his world shifted on itself; never right until she was by his side and he was by hers once more.

He walks into the infirmary, to find Emma still clutching The Huntsman's hand, stroking it fondly. Charming places his own hand on her shoulder, and with her free one, she takes it gladly.

"Your grandmother once told me something very important-"

"Is this another lecture?"

He gives a slight chuckle at the interruption, and is pleased to see that Emma gives a hint of a smile. Shaking his head, Charming continues, "She told me that love was a magic unlike any other. It was capable of changing everything and nothing all at the same time." He remembers his mother with a bittersweet fondness but shoulders on; despite the memory of her being taken from him. "It lifts you up without ever taking your feet off the ground."

Emma turns to face him, but keeps her hand on The Huntsman's.

Charming locks eyes with her, and cradles her face in his hands. "And true love can't be measured or quantified. I don't think I fully understood that; even when I met your mother. It was only when I almost lost her." He drops his hands. "We will head for Regina's castle in the morning, we will finish this and you will not lose him."

As he embraces her, he vows that he will do this; no matter what the cost may be.

He's in some sort of limbo. Between the vibrancy of life and the coldness of death, he should be dead. There should be no waiting. Arrows should have pierced him where he stood. He should have crumpled and fell then.

But he is made to hold on.

Why, he cannot begin to understand. All he can do is wait and hope.

It's only him in this in between as time doesn't pass at all. Time isn't something that flows here, it's frozen. Two figures step out and he looks to them. A part of him knows who they are despite never having met them in his life, having lost them when he was young.

Emma told them that they hadn't carelessly abandoned him to the wolves; that they had been killed, that by some miracle he had been spared and survived. Survived for what he isn't exactly sure. They look proud of him.

Proud. How could they be proud of him? In many ways he's no better than the Queen and he should be dead.

He's not good enough for anyone to be proud of him.

And so close to what? What right do they even have to be standing in front of him? What right do they-

As the man steps forward, it's almost as if he's looking in a mirror. The hair, the eyes, all the same. The man takes hold of his shoulders firmly. The Huntsman goes to shake him off but is caught by his gaze.

He's only ever felt that loved a few times in his life; when with his brethren and when with Emma. And this is all too overwhelmingly similar to the former. It's something he lost long ago when he lost his heart but it floods back to him. Tears pool in his eyes.

So weak, so stupid, so human, why did he have to be-

"You are not like her," the woman tells him forcefully, stepping forward. She smiles at him. "You are good." She places a hand over his heart. "You've always tried to do the right thing and that is why. You have a chance now, son, to finally be free."

The man swallows. "We never were. But we never regretted anything."

He knows that means they never regretted him, that they never abandoned him through a choice of their own.

"Being human is not a weakness, feeling love and hope and fear and sadness, it is a strength," the woman affirms, placing a hand to his cheek.

After this he will never see them again. They will be dead and he will be between the living and the dead. He is rendered speechless by the pair of them; he had thought of this moment plenty and the words he has wanted to say have left him.

Because they are not the right words anymore.

"Thank you," is all he can say, and then, as quickly as they appeared, they are gone, and while he is by himself, he knows now, he is not alone.

The Huntsman stirs in his sleep and Snow soothes him, with a calming hand to his own. Charming had finally convinced Emma to leave his side an hour ago, and she promised she'd sit with him in her stead for a while. She uneasily watches as his chest rises and falls, but only slightly. So much so that each intake is a miracle in itself to Snow.

She has been kept busy today with seeing the dignitaries off on their way, apologising for the absence of her husband and daughter, blaming other duties and illness. Not that the other royals really believed her. Even they knew something was amiss.

And they would be correct. Even in this world, in their world of magic and miracles, dead men did not come back to life. As she looks over the form of the man her daughter loves, Snow muses that perhaps one has to live before they can die. Without his heart The Huntsman hadn't lived his life – it had been taken from him and it was in exchange for her own.

She has carried much guilt over the course of her life, for everyone who was dragged into the fight between herself and Regina but The Huntsman's fate was one of the ones that left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. Most of her friends who had fought with her, who had thought everything would be lost with the almost-curse, still stood by her today.

And now The Huntsman lay, almost dying, where she sat.

But perhaps there was a reason. Perhaps it was to fate and timing and other intervening forces, but maybe The Huntsman was meant to meet her daughter. Maybe the suffering he has endured will be worth something. Snow isn't stupid, she knows love when she sees it, and she knows true love.

When the man was standing in front of the line of fire, it was something she had to deny. But maybe this second chance is just another reason why she must accept what has been forced in front of her. Maybe part of this entire thing is accepting that she has and her husband have made their mistakes and judgements far too soon.

She also regrets their handling of Emma. As she grew up they treated her like fine china, liable to break at any moment, and it was to protect her. Her best intentions were always at heart. But it caused her walls to build, her life to be sheltered. Snow promises, as she sits with The Huntsman, that she will do everything in her power to bring him back, back to Emma.

She dreams that they are dancing; an upbeat tempo swirls them around the ballroom floor, and they laugh with each other. They aren't in any finery but it doesn't matter. The music occasionally beats out of time but they pay it no mind.

All they are is themselves and that is all they need.

But then the dream fades; as most do, and she is confronted with something darker, something vicious.

He runs away from her and she tries to catch up but he eludes her. There are twists and turns, a maze of sorts, until she comes to a stop. She sees a red painted-on smile and a human heart clutched in a finely-manicured hand. Screams assault her senses but she cannot seem to find their source.

But, she realises, there are two screams, a man's and a woman's. And hers is one. She falls to her knees; weak – oh God, it hurts, like she's being suffocated from the inside – and light-headed and it stops. A brief moment of respite and it begins again and it goes on and on and on and on-

"Emma," the woman says her name. She knows this woman, she's never met her before in her life but a part of her knows her, and knows her cruelty. "Emma," she repeats.

Just kill me, Emma begs silently, just kill me instead.

And then she wakes up, wrapped in her mother's arms and reassurances that it will be alright; that it was just a dream, there are no monsters.

She doesn't even question her mother or father's presence, just clings to the woman beside her, tears trailing down her face and the clenching in her heart still pressing down on her.

"There are no monsters," her mother repeats but Emma can tell by her voice that it is a lie to placate her.

And she is not a child. And her dream was too real and too painful.

There are monsters.

And tomorrow she will look one of them in the eye.

"I'm coming!" Snow demands while Charming shakes his head, early on the next morning. "Emma needs me, she needs both of us."

"And the kingdom needs you too," Charming argues, as he checks the provision in the bag he is packing. He takes his wife's shoulders when she refuses to meet his gaze. "You have fought this fight far too long, Snow."

"Because it is mine to fight," she says, stepping away from him. "If I hadn't-"

"No," he implores, "no," he repeats. "You did nothing wrong. You were a child. Her mother, she manipulated you."

Snow doesn't reply for a moment and only shakes her own head. "I should still be there. What if there's still a way to end this? What if there could be no bloodshed? What if-"

"What ifs are for twenty-five years ago, Snow," Charming reminds her gently.

And she knows.

Oh, she knows.

And if her stepmother, the woman she had grown to love as a mother, and then hate, but still love, in some twisted way, had taken those chances, or if she had extended a hand, maybe, maybe-

She blinks back tears.

"This is dangerous," Charming says. She goes to open her mouth but he beats her to it. "And I'm not saying it's too dangerous for you. We both know that's not the truth." He is silent for a beat. "But the kingdom needs one of us, and if I don't-"

"Don't you dare," Snow snaps at him immediately, almost coldly. But then her coldness melts away and she grasps onto his hand tightly. "You will both come home." She gives a smile. "You will bring back The Huntsman's heart and we will figure this whole thing out."

He kisses her, and she responds, pulling him in as close as she can, pressing him to her, and remembering this moment. He will not leave her, not in this life, not in the next, not in any.

She has to believe that because anything else is not an option.

Bundled up in her travelling cloak, Emma makes her trip to the infirmary. She walks quietly, running into no one as she makes her way, as everyone is helping In getting the horses prepared. Most of the servants and guards believe that the father and daughter are simply going on a trip to a neighbouring kingdom.

The truth will be worthless if they do not succeed in their true task.

Only the best knights know of the real plan, and only those on the war council know the true destination.

She opens the door and finds Doc taking some notes by The Huntsman's bedside.

When he turns to her, she fears that he is going to tell her bad news but he only gives a smile.

"Hello, princess," he says. "I believe today is the day."

She nods.

The dwarf, who helped deliver her into this world, who treated the aches and the pains, who would tell her to 'be more careful next time', while tutting his disapproval, all when she was a child, only gives another smile now.

But it is pained.

He grips her hand tightly. "Godspeed, princess, godspeed."

With those words he leaves the infirmary and Emma moves to The Huntsman's side. As she has grown quickly used to, she grips his hand and kisses his cheek. She brushes hair from his forehead, with her other hand and tries to force her words out.

"I'm going now, to get your heart. I promised you, didn't I?"

She presses his hand to her face but it is cold. If she couldn't see the slight rise and fall of his chest, she would believe him dead.

And if she fails, he will be.

She will succeed, she will succeed. She cannot afford to think in failure.

"I don't know about other worlds and other loves and others," Emma tells him, remembering something that Rumplestiltskin told her just as she and her father had been leaving the dungeon the previous day. "All I do know is this world and you and I. So, if you can hear me," God, let him hear me, "please, please, believe that I will come back with your heart. That you will open your eyes. Please hold on, just a little bit longer."

He doesn't open his eyes, they don't even flicker but she swears the grip on her hand grows tighter, and she gives a small gasp of surprise to find it must be him.

As she reluctantly pries her hand from his that is what she takes with her.

Hope.

Her mother told her something, as she sat with her this morning and she will cling to it like she has clung to his hand.

Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.

Chapter Text

As they reach the perimeter of Regina's castle, Charming turns, from atop his horse, to Emma, who gently soothes Philippe. Emma looks up when she hears her father clear his throat subtly. Without a word passed between them he asks if she is ready, and she nods to tell him that she is. There is no going back now. There can't be.

To go back would be to show cowardice. To go back would be to fail.

Charming leads the knights, Emma a little away behind him, and onwards they go, until the sprawling castle comes into their sight. It is derelict, and old, a sign of a relic. Emma looks up at it with a strange mix of wonder and fear. It has been the stuff of stories to her. Growing up, that was all The Evil Queen was.

And, strange as it was, she had played her part in the young princess's favourite bedtime story as a child.

She had heard the tale of how her parents had met, of how her father hadn't actually been a prince, her mother a bandit on the run. They had fallen in love under the shadow of the Troll Bridge, and vowed to always find each other. Eventually, they had taken back her father's kingdom and saved the people of her mother's from The Evil Queen's rule, together.

She realises with a start that this is her mother's childhood home and that there are so many stories that the walls could tell her about her mother growing up. About the grandparents she never knew. It astounds Emma.

But, in the back of her mind, she is more than aware of what it was now. She knows who had been kept behind its walls for longer than she could ever comprehend. She understands that others had met the same fate, that others still live it, to this day, to this moment.

Belle. Rumplestiltskin had said her name with longing; his eyes had clouded over in that hazy way. It wasn't hard to tell that he loved this woman who had been trapped. And, in a moment, Emma had related to him in a way she could never have imagined. She had noticed her father's face as well, when the Dark One had struck that particular deal with them, and he had too.

Emma took a deep breath as she clutched Phillipe's reins tighter in her hands. Her trusted horse moved, and onwards, onwards they went.

"They are coming, Your Majesty," the mirror tells her, his voice urgent. "What is the plan? Would you like me to assemble the guards?" He sounds panicked, as if he fears this is the end and Regina thinks it is a foolish weakness to present at her opportune moment.

She looks upon the image, of Prince Charming, his daughter, and their knights, ready to charge her castle. She almost lets out a laugh at the absence of her wretched former stepdaughter. Leaving her husband and her daughter to fight her own war. Regina shakes her head. She turns from the mirror and goes to leave the room.

He calls after her to wait, to plan but she ignores it as she charges from the room and to her chosen destination.

She has waited. She has waited three decades for this moment. For the war to finally come to her. And let it come she would. The victory that should have been in her grasp the night that Princess Emma was born will at least unfold. She would wait in her most special chamber.

A heart for a heart.

She doesn't doubt that the princess, with the pure as snow heart and false sense of nobility she has inherited from her parents, will pass up such a trade.

Twenty minutes following Emma and Charming's departure, Red finds Snow in the armoury, with a bow on her back, arrows in a quiver slung on her shoulder and a knife on her belt, and instantly she knows.

"Snow, you-"

"Don't!"

The sharpness of her oldest friend's tone does not cause Red to recoil back. She's known Snow too long for that. Instead, it only encourages her to take the other woman by the shoulders, to try to make her see some sort of sense. "Snow, this is what she wants." She gestures to the weaponry. "She wants you to come to her. She wants to kill you!"

Snow looks up at her, her eyes steeled and ready. Red knows that even if she argues until she can't anymore her friend will do this. She could plead and beg and tell her every single reason why she should not play into Regina's hands and she would still be unable to stop her. It's for Charming and it's for Emma, and if there is anybody that Snow will do anything for, it is her family.

Red takes her hands from her shoulders, resolute in what she must do as well. "I'm going with you."

Snow shakes her head quickly, as if she had already anticipated this move. "You're staying here. The kingdom needs you," she tells her. There's a pause, in which Snow finds a sudden interest in the table beside her. Despite her determination, Red can still see the fear and it is somewhat comforting to know that she still feels something despite how detached she seems. "I can't guarantee that I'll come back."

Before she can speak, Snow takes her by the shoulders this time. Her face breaks out into a smile, and tears pool in her eyes. Her oldest friend, her most trusted friend, the one person who has always accepted her for not just what she is, but has always seen her for who she is.

Tears fall from Red's eyes now.

Snow pulls her into a wordless hug, saying thank you in the way that she envelops her with her arms. Red does the same back. And it's for the years and the fights and the struggles that they have went through together.

"Please, be careful," is all Red asks, but she is still reluctant to let go.

They find the vault of hearts, right where Rumplestiltskin instructed, easily, almost too easily. As they descend into the lower levels of the castle, Emma feels her own heartbeat quicken but suddenly it isn't the only sound in the room.

It's as if thousands of heartbeats align together, just like Emma's. Only these all beat as one, in a horrific chorus, that she cannot believe even exists. There is a door between them and the hearts, but Emma still tries to find her father's hand in the darkness. He takes it wordlessly.

The thought of The Huntsman not having his heart was enough to send an icy chill down Emma's spine. The idea of there being more people like him, without something beating in their chest, it's more than she can bear.

But she must go on. She can't turn back now. And with her father holding her hand in his, she feels stronger and less weighed down. She has his support and he will protect her. He is her father and that is what he will always do and she is used to this fact.

Two knights walk in front of them, one behind. They had run into a few of Regina's own guards but had evaded them easily and Emma can only feel her anxiety deepen. It seems almost like they let them through.

Like it's a-

The minute they enter the heart vault a cold laugh emits around them.

And Emma knows, and her father clings to her hand tighter than before, as the knights around them draw their swords.

They've walked straight into The Evil Queen's trap.

Snow leaves the castle under the pretence of going to the nearby village, with only Red knowing her true purpose. If she revealed it to the others, they'd also try to talk her out of it and her resolve cannot be shaken now. She cannot afford it to.

She must be there for her daughter and her husband. She did not start this war, not intentionally. She was an innocent of it; a young girl who just wanted a mother and while it has taken her years to accept this, she knows that she and she alone must end it.

No matter the cost to her this must end today. Her life, her husband's life, her daughter's life, they have all lived in the shadow of what Regina might do and it has made her terrified. The immense joys she has experienced; her marriage, finding out she was pregnant, holding Emma for the first time, have all been clouded over by Regina and her tyranny.

A part of her heart still loves her stepmother, and always will. But it is a small part, when held up in comparison to the part of her that sees the evil she has committed. It will always be a regret in her life but if she wishes Emma to have some semblance of a life lived without fear then she has to do it.

As she mounts her horse, Snow looks to the steps where Red watches her, through pained eyes.

She rides off and does not look back at her oldest friend and tries to not feel the concern that is radiating off her in waves, as she wonders if she will ever be back.

"Now, now, who knew you would fall for this, Charming."

Regina appears from the shadows as the doors behind them clang shut. The knights who had left the vault to survey the corridor outside, are now left there, and all Emma ends up with is the sudden realisation that this is it.

"And Emma," Regina says, with a bitterness in her voice. "Well, it is good to finally meet you, my dear."

Emma notices her father step in front of her, so that Regina's view and aim is blocked.

"It's over, Regina," he states calmly. "You can't win, not anymore. If you surrender-"

"What?" she mocks. "You'll kill me? String me up, shoot arrows at me, hang my neck around a noose?"

"Do not test me." It's the first time Emma's heard pure venom in her father's voice before. She's never heard this much hate in him before, never even imagined it existed.

Even when he had arrested The Huntsman, even when he had given the order to kill him.

But she hears it all now; almost like she's hearing the history between her family and this woman in front of her.

"If I were you, I wouldn't test me."

Emma doesn't know what she means, not until she sees her holding a human heart in her hands.

"No!" Emma lunges forward at the sight of it, but her father holds her back.

"Oh yes, princess," says Regina, as she clutches the heart tighter in her hand. "I'm beginning to wonder why I didn't crush it sooner, my dear. I wouldn't have even known it was still useful if you hadn't come for it today."

She walks closer, still holding the heart in her hand. "And I have a proposition for you."

Emma realises what she means almost immediately. Her father does too, evidently, for he pulls her back even further from Regina.

"No," he says immediately. "No."

"What kind of deal?" Emma asks at the same time as she hardly hears her father's voice.

"Oh I think you know. I think you know what I want, what this all comes down to you, don't you?" Regina questions, contemplating the heart in her hands. Without a care she gives the heart a small squeeze and Emma feels like her nightmare is suddenly becoming all too real.

"My heart for his?" Emma says quietly, her hand over her chest.

"You can still live without your heart if I take it," Regina tells her. She smirks. "And you can save his life as well."

"It's a trick, Emma," Charming states loudly, as if he himself can hear Emma's thoughts swimming.

She snaps up at his voice. She looks at Regina. "You wouldn't let us leave here alive, Regina, why would you?"

"Now, now, is that what I'm reduced to?" the older woman asks, turning to Charming, the heart still in plain view.

Emma wonders if she can just-

"A bedtime story, the Evil Queen, with her hearts and her magic? The Evil Queen against Snow White and Prince Charming and aha, they prevail! Something you tell your children to scare and enchant them at night?"

"That's what you are, Regina, that's what you have been."

Emma doesn't mistake the regret in her father's voice, now mingled with the hate he feels in his own heart.

Regina bows her head for a moment, as if silently thinking his words over, and Emma almost seizes her chance to lunge for the heart in her hand. Her chance is scuppered when Regina's head snaps back up almost immediately, as if sensing something.

Emma realises what when Regina opens the door with her magic.

"Snow!"

"Mother!"

Regina grins wickedly at the sight of her former stepdaughter. "Leave us," she calls to her guards, and she gives a genuine smile when they push Snow to the floor. Emma goes to her mother, and helps her stand, arms around her.

"Snow, why did you-"

Emma finds that her father's words are cut short when Regina flings him across the room with a flick of her free hand, closing the door behind them in the same fell swoop. Both Snow and Emma run to him, to find him still breathing but unconscious.

Snow stands, Emma still by her father's side.

"I came here to finish this once and for all, Regina." She takes a step forward that Regina permits. It is at the expense of one more crush of The Huntsman's heart, an action which causes Emma to flinch as she imagines the pain.

Snow does so too but continues forward. "I don't want this anymore than you do, Regina. I want this to end. This back and forth. It's not worth it anymore. Do you even remember why you're fighting?"

One more squeeze of the heart and Emma almost cries out.

"You may not remember the life you took, Snow, but I do. Quite in the same way as this one, I might add."

"This isn't about The Huntsman, Regina, it never has been. And your mother crushed Daniel's heart. I didn't. I'm sorry, Regina, truly I am. But this isn't vengeance anymore, it's a war."

"And so you're going to kill me?" Regina asks, tilting her head.

"If I have to, I will."

Things happen all at once then. Regina drops the heart in her hands, and Emma watches in horror as it falls to the floor beneath The Evil Queen's feet while her mother produces an arrow, faster than anything Emma had ever seen before.

"I threatened to once, Regina," Snow warns. "Give me the heart, it's over."

Regina tests the heart with her heel and Emma, noticing how distracted she is, moves from her father's side.

"Take my heart then, Regina, take it."

Emma's disheartened when her mother drops her bow, in reaction to her daughter's declaration. "No!"

Regina only grins manically, picking up The Huntsman's heart, placing it in a chest in the middle of the room, and then turning to Emma herself. Emma braces herself, closes her eyes and tries to keep as much of a feeling as she can beside her.

But the minute Regina tries to take her heart, she is thrown back and Emma feels the shockwaves, causing her to open her eyes.

She looks enraged, like a feral animal, and Emma sees the desperation in the evil of the woman. Emma only barely registers her mother's presence beside her, only barely registers being pushed out of the way before a strong wave of Regina's magic envelops the space where she only just stood.

When the light fades The Evil Queen is slumped lifeless against the wall, and Emma watches in horror as, barely without a breath, her mother appears to be so too.

Chapter Text

The first thing she registers is a bright light pouring in through windows. She opens her eyes, ever so slightly, once, but closes them straight away, straining against the intensity of the light. Can't she sleep for five more minutes?

Around her voices grow more urgent. She can pick out Charming and Emma amongst the fray.

"Move her!" her husband says. "Leave her for now!"

What is he shouting about? She loves him dearly, with all her heart, but sometimes Snow thinks he just likes the sound of his own voice. She teases him about it constantly.

Oh, it's comfy now. Sort of. Someone's holding her hand. If she can just keep a hold of that hand it should be alright. That hand will guide her, won't it?

She'll keep a hold of it for now then.

Emma talks to her, calls her mother. Mother. She had never had a mother, had she? Regina had loved her, but it was in a way that also hated her, and that wasn't what a mother's love was supposed to be. She reflects that she was motherless, and she still managed to raise Emma to the light.

And she's proud of that.

Keep a hold of the hand, keep a hold of the hand, she tells herself.

It's bumpy terrain they pass over now, it's still chaotic. Maybe she should try opening her eyes again, that would be a good idea.

But, but she can't.

A woman, a woman who looks extraordinarily like her appears to her. Black hair cascades down her shoulders, she wears an exquisite dress made of the finest silk she had ever seen. The woman's eyes look at her with a pride.

"I want to open my eyes now, mother," she says.

The woman nods. "Then go, Snow. Open your eyes, daughter."

Snow nods back. The woman's voice is like home, it assures her. Maybe she heard it once, one small syllable before she lost her. "I think I will. I think…I think I should…"

They've stopped moving. The panicked voices only grow louder, and more join in. Her best friend is there, asking what happened.

Oh Red, always so caring.

Grumpy's voice even sounds different, laced with emotion.

They all sound so concerned.

She's going to open her eyes soon, she tells her, she wants to tell her. Why are they acting like she won't?

Maybe she'll sleep a little longer. Yes, just a bit more rest, before she faces the day.

Every time she closes her eyes she feels and sees it all again. A blinding light emitting from Regina's hands, that desperate look on her face, and her mother crumpling to the ground beside her.

That spell was for her. She was meant to be hit by it. Her mother had pushed her, and a part of her can still feel that too.

She had been ready. Ready to end all the fighting, all the suffering, by just giving Regina her heart. Maybe it wasn't the best plan, maybe Regina would've just killed her where she stood after she had what she wanted. But something in her had just stirred.

Her father had been unconscious, her mother stood with an arrow on her bow, and the heart she had come for was under Regina's heel. Emma couldn't imagine the pain of having it crushed but during that entire encounter with Regina he had been tortured.

She wonders if he'll have fresh scars when he awakes.

Her mother sleeps soundly in the infirmary. Doc isn't sure if she'll wake up. Regina's spell had been akin to suicide, the Evil Queen was dead. But it doesn't feel like an ending at all. It doesn't feel like a victory. If her mother dies, if that is the price for defeating Regina once and for all, Emma isn't sure she wants it.

Her father had woken up as soon as her mother had fallen, and despite the pain he was in he had taken the lead immediately. The doors to the chamber had opened and he had ordered that she be taken to the carriage immediately. Emma had went with her, holding her hand, and while her father had done so very reluctantly, he had taken a knight with him to the tower where the woman Rumplestiltskin loved had been held captive for so many years.

Belle.

She was around her parents age, maybe a little younger. Despite years of imprisonment she was still pretty; holding a classic beauty that seemed like it would never fade even through the years. The carriage ride had been silent, and Emma had split the time between looking at her mother's face, and checking that the box she had taken from the vault still rested on her lap.

She breathed a sigh of relief each time her mother's chest rose and then fell and then rose again and did the same when the box remained by her side.

Emma paces her room, looking at the box on the nightstand. Doc had insisted that while The Huntsman had experienced periods of extreme pain, there probably would be no lasting damage now that Emma had his heart and it was safe. She examines the box and feels a grotesque awe. In it lies the heart of the man she loves.

She wonders if he'll feel any different once it's back inside his chest. A part of her hates herself for that thought. It's somewhat selfish, she thinks.

After everything, getting back his heart and whatever that entails, isn't that what he deserves?

She takes the box from the stand, along with the true love potion Rumplestiltskin gave her and leaves the room. In the hallway, she nods to the guards. The news of her mother's condition has spread quickly, leaving those in the castle in a depressive state. She is their Queen, their benevolent ruler and they cannot think what to do if she dies.

Even the news of The Evil Queen's death, her body still lying in her chamber until further notice, has been unable to lift spirits.

Outside the infirmary, her father sits with Red, who has an arm his shoulder. Emma guesses that her godmother is trying to reassure him in some way.

Once she draws up beside them she is silent before she asks. "Is there any news?"

Her father's head shoots up, and suddenly she sees something she's never really witnessed before. He's weak, and he's tired and she realises just how deep the connection between her parents runs. She's always known, of course she has, about Snow White and Prince Charming. The epitome of true love.

But he is her father now, and the woman who may be about to die is the love of his life and she is her mother and it is too much. Emma keeps a firm grip on the box and the potion as her father takes her into his arms, and Red puts her around her too.

"No." Red's voice is also worn, and hoarse. "No," she repeats. "Doc thinks she's stabilised but-"

But Emma knows that could change. With Regina dead there is no real way to determine the spell used, or the aftereffects. All they can do is hope.

Hope is good.

Her mother would like that.

Emma's in the room now and she finds that quite lovely. Her lovely daughter, her lovely Emma.

She hopes that in all the chaos Emma remembered the heart for The Huntsman. The Huntsman who had saved her life once before and now deserved his own. And if that life was by her daughter's side, and if her daughter's was by his, well, she would accept that.

When she opens her eyes, a wedding would be quite nice to see.

"M-Mother."

Oh, Emma, she thinks, don't shake, don't let your voice quaver, Mother's here now. Emma takes her hand. Yes, she'll just keep gripping on to her daughter's hand, that's a good idea.

"Please…I need you to wake up, Father needs you to wake up, please."

I will, she tells her silently, and she tries, tries but only half succeeds to squeeze her Emma's hand. Emma squeezes it back. I will open my eyes soon, Emma, is what she's promising.

Emma lets go of her hand, but Snow remembers the feel, the hand she has held since she was but an hour old. And she holds on to that now.

Just a little while longer.

Her hands shake as she pours the potion on top of the heart. From that point on, they tremble more. Knowing that her mother is in the room with her, in some way (she didn't imagine the way she squeezed her hand ever so slightly), Emma takes the glowing heart and places it, carefully, wondering if it'll hurt him at all, into The Huntsman's chest.

For a moment, nothing happens, and Emma wonders if she's going to bury both him and her mother. The idea of such a thing is too much to bear. But the thoughts fly out her head when she notes the twitch of his fingers. When she hears the strangled call for her name. Words stumble from his lips, like he's reliving something, something horrible.

And in another moment, it's like her own heart has stopped. He seems to be in so much pain, as if it's catching up with him in some way. She reaches out, grasps his hand, makes it a little more bearable for him. Smoothing down his hair she's relived when he settles, the worst apparently over.

She's unsure whether or not the flicker of his eyes is a trick of the light. But then it happens twice. And before she knows it, he's gazing at her. And she stares back. He looks confused, a little disorientated. She counts the three blinks of his eyes, and hesitantly and with a not-so-hidden wince he reaches up to her and cups her cheek with his hand.

"Emma," he breathes slowly. There are tears in his eyes and she strokes his cheek too.

"Graham," she says, in a tone that assures him she's there, and that it's real.

For a long moment, as she stares at him, she begins to believe in hope and faith and goodness again.

And that is all she needs.

She wants to tell Charming she loves him. He needs to hear it once more, she decides. And she wants to hear it once more.

How that man holds her heart, and her soul. And how she holds his. It is the fairest trade imaginable to her.

She hears him speak to her. She wonders if he's barely left her side. She hopes he's been looking after the kingdom in her absence. But she'll be back soon, and her eyes will open, and she will look at him and smile.

And together, with Regina gone, they will rule with goodness and their hearts to the light.

"You can't leave me like this, Snow," he tells her. Is that his hand in her hair? She's always enjoyed when he does that. "You would never let me leave. And I won't let you."

Love. That's all she feels from him. Pure love for her. She wonders how she's ever been worthy of it.

He kisses her forehead. She likes when he does that too.

I'm coming home, Charming, she promises, I'm coming home.

Emma stands face to face with The Dark One and his love, Belle. She had been unable to deny the smile on her face when the two had reunited. The Dark One, a monster, a creature, had just looked like a man for a moment. The minute he had held the woman in his arms Emma had immediately thought of Graham and realised she had felt the exact same when he had opened his eyes.

This Belle was his saving grace, his flicker of light in a dark heart. Emma hopes beyond hope that that would ease her father's mind at letting him go.

But she hasn't been able to see anything on her father's face for the last few days. Her mother still remains comatose, the kingdom still soldiers on, and everyone waits, walking on eggshells. A part of Emma just wants to know, but the other wants to stay in the in-between.

With hesitance her father hands over the magic bean. "I hope you find what you're looking for," he says, with a little more venom than Emma would have expected.

Rumplestiltskin bows. "And I do hope the Queen makes a speedy recovery."

Emma doesn't detect any sarcasm or malice in his voice.

Belle nods. "Thank you," she says. "Please look after him for me. He's a good man." Those words are for Emma and she knows what Belle means.

Graham had told her about the bond the two had created while being held captive by Regina. Emma appreciates that she was his only friend for so long. She had been glad to see the two reunited, free for the first time in so long. But he was tired, still healing from the wounds he had sustained due to the firing squad and was on strict bed rest. So he had been unable to accompany them to say his goodbyes to Belle where they stood.

"I will," calls Emma with a smile. She's sad, she admits to herself in a small way, to see the older woman go. She thinks they might've been friends in another life, another time.

"One more thing," her father says. He looks straight at Rumplestiltskin. "You will never step foot back into this realm. If you return here, you will return straight to your cell, to do your time for the evil you have committed."

For the first time, the imp doesn't look like he's playing a game and he nods. "That is fair, Your Majesty."

With one last look between the four, Rumplestiltskin then steps back, gesturing for Belle, Emma and her father to do the same. He drops the bean on the ground and a portal opens. Emma is awestruck for a moment, wondering what strange realm that would take her to.

But the wonder is gone in the moment Rumplestiltskin and Belle step through, and it closes. The green glow fades and it is just her and her father left to ride back to the castle.

When she opens her eyes, it is blinding. She wishes she could just close them again. But once she blinks a few times and readjusts to the light, she notices she's not alone in the infirmary. Beside her, The Huntsman lies awake in his own bed.

Snow gives a sigh of relief.

She's returned to the land of the living.

Looking up to the heavens she gives a small sigh of relief to whichever deity decided to save her.

The Huntsman must hear her shuffle awkwardly, as he turns his head, and gives a small smile at seeing her awake.

"Thank you," he says to her, after a moment of silence is shared between the two.

Snow wonders if she can actually respond. Her throat feels so dry. She tries to turn to face him, but then realises her neck hurts too. Looking straight ahead, and in a hoarse voice she asks, "For what?"

He doesn't get a chance to reply, when Charming comes through the door, Doc in tow. He's talking to the dwarf, and both register that The Huntsman is awake. It takes a moment, though, for Charming to realise that his wife's eyes are also open.

As soon as he does, he barrels over to her side, clutching at her hand. Whatever he was talking to Doc about, Snow figures, can wait, as he peppers her face with kisses, and grins and laughs and cries and she does the same.

"You didn't think I'd actually leave you, did you?" she asks, tracing his face with her hands and just drinking him in.

He clutches at her hand tighter, making sure she doesn't disappear again. "You did give me pause."

She laughs, and kisses him once more, soundly and happily. This is how it's supposed to be.

"So you're leaving?"

Emma looks at him, truly looks at him and tries to wonder if she ever really knew this man at all. Wonders why she went through everything she did, felt all the pain she did if this is how it ends.

But he shakes his head.

"I'm not leaving you. I'm-"

"You have a bag and you're leaving the castle. I call that leaving."

She folds her arms and challenges him with her eyes to give her a better explanation.

He takes her hands, and they sit in the castle courtyard, in that same secluded place by that same well they had sat by what seemed like months ago, but was only a few weeks past.

Emma wonders how it can have been a few weeks that he has been in her life for. And yet he is such a huge part of it. She wants to know why he's leaving her behind, again.

"There's things that I've done, things I need to atone for-"

"But that was-"

He gives her a look that pleads for her to let him finish and so she agrees with it, somewhat reluctantly.

"There are things I did even before Regina took my heart. Even before I was her pet. And there are scars," he looks down at their joined hands and it only causes her to squeeze his tighter in hers, "which I have to heal myself. Journeys I have to make, places I have to see, and people I have to find out about."

"Your parents," Emma realises. "You want to know more about them?"

Graham nods. He shakes his head. "And I have you to thank for that Emma. To thank for everything. I love you."

"I love you too," she tells him, overwhelmed by the emotions that threaten to spill out of her. "I could come with you. I could-"

But even as she says it, she knows, and she knows he knows too, that she has her place, and it is here. Her mother is still recovering, step by step, day by day, but the toll the spell took on her will take its time to heal. She is needed here, at least for now.

She's free and her father, with the threat of Regina, now buried beside her own father, gone, has loosened his control. Her mother too. She's living her life now. She goes hunting, and riding, and to the village when she can. But that living also means accepting her responsibilities for what they are.

Graham doesn't say anything because they both know that.

"I will come back to you," he promises. "You are my family now. I can't imagine-"

She silences him with a kiss, telling him that she feels the same.

A few more kisses are exchanged under the seclusion of the well and then he stands, pack over his shoulder. She stands too, and hand in hand – a sight which the staff of the castle have grown accustomed to – she walks him to the gates.

One more kiss, deep and hungry and intimate, and without caring who can see them, and he turns from her.

She believes him. She loves him. And she knows that when the time is right, when they have both put their demons to rest, he will come back to her.

And until he is by her side once more, he will be in her heart, always.

Chapter Text

As the snow melts, so her mother's strength grows. Emma watches as she recovers from her near-death experience, and wishes to know nothing of how close she really came to losing her. While her mother recuperates her duties around the castle and the neighbouring villages increase. In Graham's absence she throws herself into her responsibilities and does so with the hope that one day she can be just as beloved by her mother and father.

People from all around their kingdom, and others, make the journey to the old derelict castle where Regina based her power. Emma sets out to make one atrocity right. So many people gratefully receive their hearts back from their princess and it's a sight that sometimes moves her to tears. Each time someone places their heart back into their chest, their eyes light up, their smile is contagious, they hug and kiss their loved ones who hold their heart through it all and Emma's thoughts do wander to Graham.

She's always wondering where he is, what he's doing. Sometimes, when she's out on a solitary ride with Philippe, she'll come across the clearing where they first met, and set down on foot. She'll walk over the ground a few times, taking herself back to the memories of that first meeting, and how far they have both come since then.

Winter makes way to the new nature of Spring, and Emma is delighted to see her mother fully recovered. A party is held to honour the Queen and the hopes of the new season. Prince Laurence arrives with his parents in tow and while Emma worries that he may intend to court her, she is instead surprised to find that the story of her and Graham has spread so far.

The neighbouring kingdoms had voiced their unbridled shock and disdain when Graham had been both declared alive, despite the multiple arrows delivered straight to his chest, and also cleared for his crimes against the crown. Coupled with the suspicious nature of Queen Snow's near death experience and Emma can see where such concerns come from.

But she fights the accusations. Messengers are sent back and forth between the kingdoms, stories are told and then finally her mother, at her ball, speaks of it. She tells the other nobility about her past with The Evil Queen. She openly admits what her late stepmother did, and why she did it. And then she clears Graham's name.

"And he is the man our daughter has chosen." Her wine goblet raised in the air, Snow nods to Emma.

Emma raises her own, her way of saying yes, of course she has.

She stills worries. She can feel him, somehow, in her heart. She knows that wherever he is he is okay. But a part of her wonders if one day she'll just not feel that. If one day it'll go still, and she'll know why.

She just wishes he'd come home soon.

He promised her, didn't he?

Summer is full of waiting. Days are long and nights are longer, filled with suspended sunlight and Emma grows adigated and frustrated with the lack of news regarding Graham. He's been gone for just over half a year now, and she knows he has a long journey ahead of him, but she wonders if she really can afford to just sit around and wait forever.

She isn't even really that annoyed with him, she just hates the not knowing. She loves him, but she wonders if it really is enough.

Maybe he senses her doubts, from as far away as he must be, for a message arrives one late summer night.

When her parents first call her to receive it, she is anxious. But she smiles when she opens it and finds she had no need to be.

It's a short letter, hastily composed of course, but it gives her a renewed hope. He tells her he wishes that he could be with her, that his heart yearns for hers, but that his quest for redemption has to continue.

She cannot fault him for that, no matter how many times she's tried to.

He reminds her that he loves her, and that he will be back soon.

She holds the letter close to her chest as a reminder in her times of doubt.

Leaves are falling and Emma realises that it's almost been a year. She stands on the balcony of her parents' bedroom, feeling the cool crisp air around her, taking it all in. There have been no more letters from Graham but she has kept herself busy, as she must.

From her perch she sees the wolf, hovering just outside the courtyard. The hunting of wolves has long been outlawed but Emma can see the distrust of the servants working outside. She stares intently at the wolf and is surprised to see him turn his head in her general direction. The distinct eye colour startles her.

It's Graham's brother-wolf.

Emma gathers up her skirts and runs, breezing past Red, who jokes where she's going in such a hurry. She just smiles at her godmother, one of those 'I'll tell you later' smiles and continues on her way. Her parents walk arm in arm down the corridor and she only slightly slows for them. At first they look concerned by her haste but once she assures them that everything's alright, they begin to walk away from her and she runs once more.

Outside, she finds the wolf searching for her. Once his eyes lock on hers, he turns, and begins to pad away from the courtyard. With no time to get to Philippe in the stables, Emma slows down and calmly walks after the animal.

The wolf's pace grows faster and so she has to run to keep up, ever so slightly, when she finds herself in that all-too-familiar clearing.

At first she wonders why the wolf would bring her here. But then she hears his voice and it all makes such perfect sense she feels foolish for not thinking it in the first place.

"Emma, what are you-?"

His question is drowned out by her running into his arms.

"Where the hell have you been!?" she asks, relieved to see him, angry that he would be away for so long, and just so happy to see him again.

He doesn't reply, just lets her sink further into his arms and she's grateful for that. They stand like that for so long, just feeling the other so close that it's almost as if their hearts are beating as one. He runs a hand through her hair lovingly and she sighs contently at the touch. Eventually, she breaks away slightly, just to kiss him.

And like that they remain for a good few minutes, until they break apart once more. Emma's hand finds itself to his cheek, where he sports a purple-ish bruise, and she notices his eye looks swollen.

"What happened to you?" This question is much softer than the previous one. She looks at his hands, which show the labour of time away and she wonders on all of the things that have happened to him, stories he's to tell her, some she'll want to hear, and others she won't.

He places his hand over hers, and gives a smile. He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter now. We're together."

She nods, agreeing with that statement. "Don't go away for that long again," she admonishes.

A small chuckle leaves his lips and he looks deep into her eyes.

She already sees a difference in him. And it's not a bad one. He looks more whole now. The glimpses she had only ever been able to see briefly before he had his heart back are now in his whole face. And she loves him all the more for them. She loves him for every bruise or scar he has brought back.

A nudge at her legs and Emma finds the wolf still standing there.

"You brought him back to me, didn't you?" she questions, bending down and stroking his fur, without any of her previous hesitance.

"I think that's his job somehow," Graham replies, also kneeling down beside his brother. He strokes the wolf's fur. "Thank you," he says.

The wolf howls, and then with one look at Graham, the animal heads into the bushes.

Graham helps her up from the ground and notices that she's not in her usual attire for the forest, and instead in one of her gowns.

She realises this too, and then realises how quickly she left the castle and the concerns it might raise.

She grasps his hand in hers and smiles at him. "Come on," she pulls him a little. He responds by moving along of his own accord, a smile on his face. Emma can't wait to see that smile for a very long time to come.

"We should go home."