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Emma’s heels clicked softly against the cold stone floors, the sound reverberating against the silent walls of Camelot. There was an Erie calmness to the corridors as the torches sent flickering light a-cast on the high grey walls.
She didn’t know where she was going. She only needed something to distract herself from the whispering demons that now lurked inside her head. Something to get her out of that small, godforsaken room.
She felt trapped inside her own mind but she knew it wasn't her that felt trapped, but the darkness that had made itself at home. It felt like something clawing at her insides, ripping apart her soul piece by piece. She knew she would slowly lose her sanity if it stayed uptight in there any longer. Now she understood why Rumple had gone insane after 300 plus years of being the host to the darkness.
Her pace quickened, her lips pulled into a thin line; eyes wild and skimming over her surroundings. The cold night air whipped through her light blonde hair. Suddenly the air caught in her throat as she hit something hard causing her to sprawl backwards onto the icy floor.
“Apologizes m’ lady!” a gruff voice started, “I didn’t see you there, how rude of me.”
Emma blinked, startled as she looked up to see an out stretched hand. Hesitating slightly, she took the hand as she got to her feet, avoiding eye contact with the stranger.
“Are you alright m’ lady? If your injured I can fetch the royal physician.”
“No.” it came out a little harsher than she expected. Then she countered with, “I’m fine, thanks though.”
Not wanting to be rude she looked up from where her eyes were trained on the ground. She saw a middle age man with a dark scruff surrounding his chin. His bright blue eyes staring into hers with concern. Emma’s heart dropped in dismay.
Fuck.
She had at that moment realized that standing in front of her was no knight, no servant, or any person that she would be more reluctant to see, but Arthur. The crown king of Camelot himself.
Great going Emma. Not only have you been utterly rude to a King who is not just a king, but one told of in folklore. But also have managed yourself a terrible first impression with the one man who might be able to help you find Merlin. Out of all the god damn people in this castle…
“Your Highness… I—“ She stuttered over the words, struggling to find something appropriate to say in the situation that had fell upon her. “I—I apologize for not watching where I was going.”
She bowed her head slightly to hide her wild eyes.
He chuckled half-heartedly.
“Like I said, I should be the one apologizing.” he gave her a warm smile that she did not return.
Emma nodded her head slightly, her eyes drifting over his shoulder to a lone banner. She wanted desperately to escape this awkward conversation.
“You’re Queen Snow and King David’s daughter, right?”
She shuddered at their titles internally but again nodded her head curtly.
“Are you sure you are alright? You don’t look well…”
“I’m sure. I’m fine.” Emma muttered. She could feel the darkness breaking through, the power pumping through her veins. Part of her wanted to scream at him to get away, but the other part wanted to separate his head from his shoulders.
“M’ lady let me help you…” He reached his hands to her shoulders. Recoiling quickly at the gesture, she stumbled backwards almost tripping over her skirts.
Kill him. You could snap his neck with a flick of your wrist…
She shook her head violently, trying to pry those thoughts out of her subconscious. No, no! She wouldn't let the darkness take over.
“Get—Get away.” She managed to scrabble out.
He look bewildered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you..”
He took an advancing step towards her. Emma’s emotions were out of control. Her chest rising and falling rapidly, a dark wind wiped through the hallway; the torches flickered sending light dancing ominously around them.
Arthur looked around confused, then focused his attention to the distressed maiden in front of him. Suddenly his gaze flickered down to her hand. His eyes widened.
Following his stare, she looked down and saw that in her own shaking hand was a wickedly sharp knife. It’s blade illuminated a soft tint of orange in the flickering torchlight.
“M’ lady…” Arthur started, then stopped.
Hers eyes were glued to the weapon. It seemed to innocent, so easy right now to thrust this through his chest and be done with his insufferable small talk. Her fingers loosened and tightened around the hit. She liked the feeling of his life in the palm of her hand.
Thats right, kill him. It will be so easy… do it for Henry…
No. This wasn’t right. Henry wouldn’t want this. In that second the blade dissolved into black smoke, then into nothing. Her body shook violently as she dropped to her knees and hunched over. Sweat poured from her as her face twisted in anguish.
There were voices, so many voices. They screamed at her and sent shooting pain down her spine. She wanted to cry out at them, to plead them to stop, but no sound escaped her lips.
Arthur watched in dismay as the woman before him shook violently on the floor. Her face hidden from view as spirals of dark magic swirled around her, the wind whipping around her silvery blonde hair.
Fine, Fine! I give in just make it stop, Please make it stop! I’ll do anything! Anything…
Then suddenly the voices stopped, the wind disappeared, and the pain ceased. She sat there with her hands over her ears, still slightly shaking. Her breathing was staggered and ragged but her mind was at ease. Or at least she thought her mind was at ease.
Looking up from her hunched position, she saw Arthur with his mouth agape. She smirked at this, and he took a step in shock back at her expression. She stood slowly, her eyes still trained on his. Clenching and unclenching her fists she stayed there, staring at the utterly bewildered king.
“You—you…” The king trailed off. “You have magic.” It came as a whisper.
The blonde raised her eyebrows at the stupid remark, but kept her ground. Arthur raised his hand and pointed accusingly.
“Magic’s not allowed in Camelot.” He said straightening his back as if he hand some sort of authority in this position.
Emma almost laughed at naive he was. At how he didn't know the kind of danger her was in. She took a step forward, ever so slightly cocking her head to the side. Arthur this time was the one to stubble backwards.
“Don’t come any closer you…” He's searched for the right word. “You—you— witch!”
During any normal circumstance it wouldn’t have even phased her but since the incident that morning, it hit a nerve.
She shot out her hands out and sent the king flying across the corridor, hitting the opposite wall, and landing on the floor with a sickening crunch. He scrambled backwards on his hands but couldn't make it far before she materialized in front of him in a gust of black smoke.
Grabbing him by the throat, she slammed him against the wall, holding him firmly by the neck as he dangled above the ground. He sputtered for air as she tightened her grip, her face filled with pure rage and hatred. The wind was back again and it gusted around her, all he could hear was it whistling through the abandoned hallway; her grip tightening ever more so.
“Please…” He choked out. “Don’t—“ Before he could finish her hand had plunged into his chest. The blonde pulled out his heart, glowing red in the darkness that surrounded them, pulsing and alive. Suddenly she released him and he fell to the floor on his hands and knees, gasping for sweet air.
She stared at the thing held so delicately in the palm of her hand with curiosity. Emma gave him a wicked smile that he just stared up at with dismay. The helpless king shook his head pleadingly as he cradled his injured arm. She only squeezed. Arthur’s body contorted in pain as his last line of life was crushed into dust.
Brushing off her hands, Emma smiled and reveled in the darkness that had broken the barrier and was now heading to her own heart. Her body was icy cold but comforted at the same time. She realized, she no longer felt trapped.