Archive of Our Own

The loud bang from Prince James’ fist contacting the table in front of Stephen is loud enough to make him jump, looking from the hard lines along the Prince’s face morphing into determination and onto the worrisome glance that Natasha gives him from across the round table. The wedding was months ago, and they had honestly thought that the Evil Queen was bluffing over her threat to the entire kingdom as no word from her had reached anyone’s ears. Even Stephen was starting to think that maybe it was all a hoax or at least something unthreatening enough to truly be concerned about - perhaps maybe the Queen thought of giving the pale bride another poisoned apple to keep just her life miserable.

 However, the moment that Prince James’ sends a letter to his kingdom, handwriting neat but shaky with the news that he had visited Rumpelstiltskin in his holding cell where he announced that the Evil Queen is planning a curse powerful enough to rip away not only Snow White’s, but everyone’s happiness in a foul vengeance. He passed on the letter to his friends, telling them that at the sun’s first light, they ride to their aid without pause. Stephen has seen too much suffering to allow anymore be afflicted onto anyone if he can help it.

 “Fighting is a bad idea. Giving in to one’s dark side never accomplishes anything,” Jiminy calls from his perch on the table, looking from around the table to Prince James with a gaze that told him that nothing will change his mind.

 The prince scowls a little, gesturing to everyone with an open hand and a snarl in his voice that’s dangerously close to sounding venomous. “And how many wars has a clear conscience won? We need to take the Queen out before she can inflict her curse!” Stephen can see Snow White’s face looking pained, as if seeing such hatred in her husband’s eyes is physically squeezing her heart and very soul. Stephen knows the feeling and his own chest tightens at the thought.

 “Can we even trust Rumpelstiltskin?” Doc calls from his spot, adjusting the wire-framed glasses upon his nose as most everyone either nods along too hopefully or scrunch up their faces in concentration. Stephen is among the ones that nod along.

“I’ve sent my men into the woods,” he looks pointedly at Doc, nostrils flaring. “the animals are abuzz with the Queen’s plan. This is going to happen unless we do something,”

This time Stephen can see the Viking Hero next to Natasha refrain from slamming his fist against the oak table to match Prince James’ from earlier, instead opting to grip his lover’s pale and undoubtedly freezing hand while his thumb rubs smooth lines up and down the visible veins mapping from his wrists to the tip of his fingers. Frost branches from those very same tips, melting the moment that forest green eyes look into bright blue ones. They don’t call him Jack Frost for nothing.

“There’s no point. The future is written,” comes Snow White’s small voice, focusing her gaze on the pattern of the table while absentmindedly rubbing the full stomach protected by a thin layer of white fabric. In that moment, Prince James’ eyes soften at the sight of his wife’s worry lines and takes her hand in his. From Clint’s spot, he looks just about wrecked that he can’t comfort the expecting mother either.

“No. I refuse to believe that,” he starts softly, sitting down for the first time since the meeting began so he can look into her eyes without fail. “Good can’t just lose!”

“Maybe it can,”

“No. Not as long as we have each other. If you believe him about the curse then you must believe him about our child,” he whispers, kissing her hand. “She will be the savior,”

Stephen’s mind comes to a screeching halt. No one said anything to him about their child’s fate, just the warning of the curse. He shoots Natasha and Clint a frantic look, both of them looking back at their prince with wide eyes and shaking their head as to say ‘no, we didn’t know about this either.’. Even Eugene’s breath hitches, shifting uncomfortably with worry, eyes narrowing to slits and Stephen wonders if he too is mentally going over the letter to see if it was ever mentioned.

A child. From Prince James’ tone, it sounds like something worth keeping hope for but at the moment, Stephen wonders just how long they will all have to suffer before the child comes of age. It seems like a big burden to carry, the constant panic over if they screw up, how badly will it affect many lives. He should be happy, yes, because there is someone who can undo it but at what cost? How long will not only he, but everyone that he knows and loves will have to endure whatever sorrow and torture that they will be subjected to?

Before any of them can get over their initial shock, the faint marching that echoed while Stephen was still in his mind suddenly gets louder as a group of soldiers burst right into the room, hauling along with them a tree of some sort with twisting branches that seem to be almost as thick as a man’s torso. In front of them, a Blue Fairy glides into the room upon air and a smile on her small face. Prince James’ stands up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What the hell is this?” he demands, looking up and down the trunk of the tree.

The Blue Fairy glides over to the table, floating just in front of Prince James and Snow White with a thoughtful and hopeful glint in her eyes. “Our only hope of saving that child,” she replies softly, even her voice magical as it does to every fairy in the forest. Stephen tries not to stare in awe at the tree, his face matching those of Hiccup, Jack, Eugene and even Natasha; wide eyed and pull of faith. Some of them seem to have other ideas.

“A tree?” Grumpy remarks from three people down from Stephen, turning from the tree to the Blue Fairy. “Our fate rests on a tree? Let's get back to the fighting thing,”

The Blue Fairy shoots him a nasty glare and Stephen tries not to laugh at how she goes from soft and sweet to cold and hard in an instant. The look is gone the moment it appears and she gives her full attention to the couple in front of her. “The tree is enchanted. If fashioned into a vessel it can ward off any curse,” she explains in a leveled voice, excitement crossing her features once more when she flies over to Geppetto, the old man giving a small smile to the enchanted creature. “Geppetto, can you build such a thing?”

The man gives a small chuckle, as if the comment is so absurd that he can’t contain his own laughter. He rests his hand on the head of a small child that Stephen spotted upon entering the room earlier, looking down at him with such fondness, such love, that Stephen finds himself desperately hoping that the fairy is right because having to see all the fondness and love in everyone’s hearts permanently ripped from them makes his own heart ache. “Me and my boy. We can do it.” he says in a thick accent to the boy, ruffling his ginger hair with a smile.

“This will work. We all must have faith,” the Blue Fairy turns over to the couple once more, though now her smile seems to be getting harder to keep on her pale face, making it forced. She pauses, then continues with a more regretful voice. “There is, however, a catch,” Stephen’s heart starts to skip beats, his stomach churning within itself and before he can realize, the fairy is talking again. “The enchantment is indeed powerful, but all power has its limits. And this tree can protect only one,”

Only one. The baby and Snow White already are pushing it to count as ‘one’. Prince James and Snow White will be separated. The two share a concerned look, their hands turning white from the force of them squeezing each other’s hands tightly. The moment of silence across the group is only about a few minutes long before Prince James ushers Snow White up carefully, looking back at the group with a pained gaze. “This meeting is dismissed, I’m sure you all have a lot to do,” and just like that, he and Snow White make their way out of the room before anyone can say a word.

It’s been three weeks since the meeting with Prince James to discuss the Cure, and which each passing day, Hiccup can’t seem to shake the feeling that something absolutely horrid is going to happen to Jack once they reach the new land. Every day, the pale male will stand on the balcony and overlook the ocean with the wind rustling his snowy hair, just so when he crawls into bed the moment the sun sets, he smells faintly of salt and sea rather than pine and fire wood.

Though following Jack’s abnormal new routine, Hiccup often finds himself sitting on a chair in front of their unused fireplace and watching his lover stand still enough to be captured in a painting. Hiccup almost doesn’t hear him when he speaks.

“I want to visit my sister,” Jack’s voice is soft, almost a whisper against the still scenery. “I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye,”

Hiccup’s internal shock nearly rattles him, but instead of freezing in spot like a statue, he crosses the room in soft steps until his chest is pressed against Jack’s bony back and he’s wrapping his freckled arms around his waist, resting his chin against the silky strands while his own locks wisp in the wind. “It’s a long journey from Berk,” Hiccup says back, kissing Jack’s head with a touch so small that he isn’t sure that Jack even felt it. “By horseback, it would at least be five days without rest,”

“And what about on dragon back? You can take Toothless and I can use the wind,” Jack turns his head to look at Hiccup, his eyes red rimmed and bright against the back circles forming around them.

“What about Toothless? A dragon can only go so far, Jack. Besides, this is not just some  Night Fury we’re talking about, this is my Night Fury,” He’s sure that his own breath from his chuckle is the reason why Jack shudders. “One of the most stubborn,”

“Well we all know where he got it from,”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’ll have you know that no one is more stubborn than you, Mr. Frost,”

Jack lets a small smile creep onto his lips, his muscles relaxing a smidget but still not completely lax like he would hope. “I’m serious, Hiccup, it’ll mean a lot to me if we at least try,” he breathes, his voice starting to get tight as he continues. “I just need to say goodbye,”

Hiccup sighs, looking at the view in front of him. From Berk, the mountains of the North can be seen across the body of water between them. Between the mountains and the woods, even Toothless will have a hard time navigating them to Jack’s sister, prosthetic or not. He could always ask Prince Stephen or maybe even Merida to take them, both survivalists and know the land better than Hiccup; he knows the land by mind, but they know the land by heart. Besides, he needs to stay in Berk to make preparations for when the Curse hits - he has to be here to make sure that they don’t do anything rash and unpredictable while he is away, as most vikings do by nature. Ask them to conquer land with their fists, hey, sure, why not? But ask them to keep calm during the unknown, well, that won’t be a pretty sight, hell, Hiccup is sure that even his father will partake in dismantling the village piece by piece.

But then again, St. North can use his magic to take them where they need to go. He can take Jack there and Hiccup can stay and make sure that no one loses another limb from “friendly rough housing”. Astrid can be in charge - Thor knows she can handle anything with just just her pinky - but she’s requested some time off to spend time with Eret before the whole Curse goes down. However, watching Jack now with those big and beautifully wide eyes and his pleading soft smile, Hiccup knows that needs him right now. There will never be a moment in their lives were Jack will need him more.

“Okay, if it means this much to you, I’ll ask St. North if he can take us there and I’ll make su-” before Hiccup could finish, a loud thundering noise shaked the balcony hard, almost ripping Jack from Hiccup’s arms as the mountains were suddenly engulfed in a cloud of rolling black smoke rapidly spilling over the mountains like water through fingers. The alarm of bells chiming from the town square made both of them look at each other for a brief second before running out of the room.

Gobber the Belch stood above all in his crow’s nest, rattling the the rope attached to the bells with his hooked hand, shouting loudly with a hint of a growl in his voice as Hiccup and Jack bursted through the doors to find the entire population of dragons and villagers screaming in fear around them. “It’s here! It’s here! The nasty sonovabitch is here and coming fast!” Goober belched from the tower, pointing the last part of the sentence towards Hiccup’s direction while Stoick and Valka rushed to the young couple’s side; wide eyed and reaching towards them. Valka wrapped her arms around Hiccup tightly, completely abandoning the fact that he’s now twenty years old and holding onto someone else at the moment.

The screeches of dragons caused a wave of sound, some hissing and some taking on a predatory defence stance with their whole bodies rigid, wings open and wide, and, if they had any, spikes standing on end as if to scare the curse away. The Zipplebacks, Belch and Barf, narrowed their eyes towards the horizon as their unique traits either spilled from their jaws or sparked intensely. Hookfang braced himself in front of his rider, wings spread and mouth snarling with mighty horns curling behind him as a distinct mark from all Murderous Nightmares. Astrid’s Deadly Nadder by the name of Stormfly is already scaling the tower to get a better view of the Curse to more than likely report back to Astrid and Eret as soon as possible. A Gronkle belonging to Fishlegs is already racing towards the tower to where his owner is and is greeted with an enthusiastic “Meatlug!”.

Toothless is on top of a house, onyx black pupils narrowing to slights like a cat in danger as his tails swings back and forth, nearling knocking down the chimney in the process. He sniffs the air momentarily before blasting blue energy in the general direction of the smoke, but his efforts are futile when it finally passes over the mountain completely. The dragon looks back at Toothless, letting out a distressed and pained noise before retreating towards him with his head low in apology. “It’s okay, bud,” Hiccup smiles, resting his bare hand against his best friend’s nose. “You did great,”

“Oh, Hiccup, the dragons! What will happen to them?” his mother cries from next to him, looking around her in horror when she realizes that everyone is taking cover behind their dragons wings as insisted by said dragons, even children are clutching their dragons close to their chests as the babies puff out their chests and hiss towards the mountains. Jack’s baby Bewilderbeest comes running towards him in big and clumsy pounces, whining loudly as Jack rips himself out of Hiccup’s arms to pick up the white and horned ‘God’ dragon off the ground and into his arms. He’s bigger than any baby dragons, almost bigger than a cat in comparison but he still burrows his head into Jack’s neck for comfort as Jack returns to Hiccup’s awaiting arms. “What will become of our dragons? Of us?” she asks amongst the chaos in the village as families scream and tremble in fear.

His father lets out a strangled yell, shaking his fist towards the Curse with a rapid snarl on his face that Hiccup hasn’t seen in a long, long time. His mass is bigger and bulkier than all of them, which he uses to his advantage and gathers up his small family in a strong bear hug, calling over Toothless and Cloudjumper. “My family will not be ripped apart,” he bellows, watching the approaching mass crossing the body of water. “We are Vikings and we are going to go down together!”

He takes one long and hard look at Jack, seeing his lips tremble slightly while icy blue eyes are staring into the distance, completely and utterly frozen for the first time since he’s met him by what’s coming towards them at a savage speed. Still, all he can think about in that moment is what the Curse will actually to do them and the gravitiy of it’s power: it’s going to take him away. It’s going to physically take away Jack with its already icy and heartless grip and keep tugging until its successfully taken one of the most important person in his life. Somewhere where there is no happiness and they are kept trapped in a glass case made of the abyss coming towards them and he can’t help but wonder if in this place frozen in time, if Jack will be there too. He can’t decide what’s worst at the moment; passing by everyday without knowing that he just brushed shoulders with the love of his life or knowing that Jack is right there, right in front of him but never being able to reach him.

The truth is; he can’t stand the thought of loosing Jack. He can’t breath right at the mere fleeing moment where he lets his mind wonder on its own accord to invision a life without his family or Toothless, his hands forever reaching for something to complete him but barely grasping it. The thought scares him more than anything.

Hiccup wraps his arms tighter around Jack and the baby Bewilderbeast, holding them close to his chest as grass and dirt are kicked up around them and he sees Toothless wrap his wings around them, shredding them in darkness as Hiccup watches the Curse engulf most of the town square while Gobber challenges it before going silent. He brings Jack’s chin up with his thumb and index fingers, whispering in the most love he can put into a sentence, “I love you,” and kisses his lover.

Then it all goes black.

Clint knew that he and Natasha were going to be ripped apart.

For one thing, after what Natasha did to the Queen, it was only understandable that she’d make sure to give his wife the most unhappiest punishment she could think of. It was unsettling how she was taking all this as she throws herself into meetings with Eugene and Stephen non-stop to organize a plan. The three seem to forget that there is nothing they can do other than await the child to return and save them all like Rumpelstiltskin said (granted, Clint doesn’t trust the sick pile of tar as far as he can throw him), he thinks there is something there just under the masks they all wear. Nevertheless, Clint has somehow managed to get Natasha in his arms and as far from the strategy room as they can get. Of course, Natasha didn’t really like the sound of that. After all, the knight has been pacing for hours in just a tunic and leggings while her boots thump on the ground. He considers it a win, otherwise she’d be wearing her polished silver armor.

“Natasha,” he says from their bed, running his hands through his hair when she doesn’t turn around and instead crosses her arms and focuses on the wooden floors. “Natasha, come on, love, you can’t pace there forever,”

“Watch me,” her red lips lift at the corners but otherwise her face remains blank and focused. She turns around when she reached the end of the room and continues talking slowly to the other end. “What if we ask Rumpelstiltskin if we can maybe make someone else the savior? Like Rapunzel, or Petorosu, they have one of the purest hearts,”

Clint sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t think it’s a matter of heart rather than time,” he says, eyes trailing after her. “Remember what the Queen said? Time is our punishment,”

“I’m not going to wait around until some little brat grows up and can come save us!” Natasha snaps as violently as a starving wolf, stopping her pacing to look at Clint. “Right now, Stephen is talking to Rumpelstiltskin and I should be there too to negotiate something with h-”

“But instead you’re stuck here with me,” he finishes for her, watching her stance deflate dramatically from her being wound up tighter than yarn in a jammed spinning wheel. She lets out a breath of frustration as she tugs on the hair tie keeping her scarlet strands in a bun and crawls over to Clint on their soft bed. Once she arrives at his side, she plants a chaste kiss against his lips and makes herself comfortable on the bed next to him.

“There is no other place I’d rather be than with you, and you know that,” she smiles, taking his bigger hand in her more delicate one. Her fingers are long and pale and Clint can’t help but to run his thumb over the silver band and diamond ring he placed on her finger all those months ago, and he brought it up to his lips to kiss. He loves her, he loves her with all his heart.

“Natasha Romanov, I want you here with me right now because my biggest fear is that I will be ripped apart from you and I can’t let that happen. This Curse may never will keep you away from me and …” he took a shaky breath, squeezing her hand tighter. “We’ve already lost someone close to us, and I don’t want to go through that without you,” Natasha’s eyes close for a brief second, recounting the last few years they’ve spent together. “I love you, and I can’t ever imagine me without you,”

Natasha ducks her head towards him, resting head head upon his shoulder as her curled strands cascade over his collarbone while he rubs her back slowly. He tried memorizing every aspect of her one before, but he gave up when he realized that Natasha is always changing and he loves her for the old and the new aspects of her. They sit there for a moment longer, enjoying each others warmth in the quiet room while the birds chirp loudly outside before Clint disrupts it by asking, “Do you really think that Stephen is over there right now talking about the Curse?”

She laughs, patting their jointed hands with her other while shaking her head fondly. “He’s blind right now, you know that. He thinks we should just let it all fall into place and as we speak, he’s going to Rumpelstiltskin for help,” she sighs again, looking at the painting of the castle painted before any of them was born. “You can always tell how bad a situation really is when a man like Stephen resorts to getting help from a man that demons would snarl and reject,”

“Yeah, let’s not spend today talking about Rumpelstiltskin,” Clint chuckles, bringing his face closer to Natasha and settling her on the plush pillows against the headboard, nuzzling her perfectly milky neck. “I don’t need that running through my mind while I spend time with my beautiful wife,”

She laughs again, opting on taking his ear lobe with her fingers and pulling it hard to distract him. “Oh no, we’re going to cuddle, none of this sex business, okay? I don’t want you-know-who to burst in and catch us naked … again,”

“Who’s going to bother us?” he whines pitifully, rubbing his ear and rolling over so that he’s laying on his back with his head towards Natasha.

“It could be an emergency,”

“Emergency my ass,” he mumbles, turning towards her and wrapping his arm around her waist while planting as many kisses on her cheeks and nose as possible. His other arm is supporting his weight to get a better angle on her face, not minding the soft strands that happen to fall on her face but instead using his nose to push them away. Her fingers curl towards his neck, stroking the skin there with her thumb as slowly as possible to see the goosebumps follow her touch and then immediately fade away. Though Natasha tries to hold it off, she eventually slips into a dreamless sleep as Clint keeps watch over her and running his fingers over every feature of her face. She slept for a while, so long that Clint can see the sun shift but still remain up in the sky when she awakes again. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheek before she shifts, inhaling through her nose before stretching her arms above her head and opening her eyes halfway to look at him. God, she is beautiful.

“Hey,”

“Hi,”

He continues to pet her hair lightly, pushing back stubborn curls until her face is completely free of red. Clint smiles down at her, kissing her nose before leaning back and asking, “Natasha, what’s your biggest fear?”

Before Clint can hear her answer, there’s shouting coming from below the window as horses start to neigh in fright and jostle their reigns in an attempt to escape. There’s bells ringing close by, but even the loud booming coming from the golden domes are drowned by the sound of thunder clapping in the distance, causing the couple to spring from their bed to look out the window and see it.

The Curse.

It’s horrible, and blacker than the Queen’s heart as it charges at the kingdom at full force and branching out over the horizon. It’s laced with lightning, flashing gray whenever the thunder sounds emit from the dark smoke and before Clint can think, he’s pulling Natasha by the hand out of the room. Her boots clack against the marble hall, and Clint can feel her heart beating in her wrist while his is drowning his senses as it pounds for freedom against his own chest. The hall seems to stretch forever until they finally burst through the doors at the end, running into the entrance where the Howling Knights are all gazing through the glass windows. Their jaws are wide, eyes bulging as they all stand still while the clap of thunder boom across the entrance of the castle. Rebecca and Margret  are there too, faces a mixture of determination and worry. It didn’t take long before Rebecca moves her head a little to the left to see Clint and Natasha standing there, her red bottom lip quivering. And in the smallest voice that has ever been uttered by the usually loud girl, she says, “It’s here,”

Dugan scoffs, turning his back towards the window is a disgruntled noise at the back of his throat. “It’s here alright, and I betcha that Geppetto didn’t even managed to send the child through the tree,” he spits out, heading towards the castle doors while everyone stands and watches. He turns back around, rolling his eyes. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there or what?”

“Where are we even going to go, Dugan?” Natasha sighs, pulling her hair up in a bun at the base of her neck. “Look at it, it’s too powerful. We can’t stop it,”

“Hadn’t Stephen just left to talk to Rumpelstiltskin? Maybe he found another way,” Margret  chimes in, looking at Dugan and then to Natasha. Clint can see the wheels in her head turning, like Margret  already knows the answer.

“With all due respect, Margret , if Stephen had gone there, wouldn’t he be back here by now?” Gabe asks with a small frown, resting his gloved hand against her back and moving it in small and soothing circles.

Dugan clears his throat from the doors, motioning towards the window and outside. “We can sit here like ducks on an egg …” then he smiles, “ … or we can go howling into that Curse and show it that it doesn’t scare us?”

Rebecca’s breath hitches, her hand clamping onto Margret ’s forearm. She looks at them, blue eyes looking around the group. “What about Stephen?” she says, other hand spread out against her chest and her fingers fiddling with the pearl necklace. Clint sighs, moving from his spot next to Natasha and wrapping an arm around Rebecca.

“Has the Prince ever steered us wrong? If he has faith that a caul crowned baby will save us, then we should too. He’s our prince, and our loyalty remains in him.” Clint can almost hear Rebecca’s heart skipping beats, watching her eyes well up with tears of fear for the unknown before she looks straight ahead at Dugan and with the fire in her eyes, she marches right over to him with her hands holding her gown shirt high enough to not trip over it. Her curls bounce against her shoulder blades, striking a feeling of nostalgia in Clint’s gut. She smiles at him, turning her head to look at the Howlies.

“The only people that know that Stephen is gone is in this room alone,” Rebecca says, beckoning everyone to come closer. “Everyone else is panicking right now and I think it’ll be a good idea to at least try to get them calm, we can’t have their last moments be of fear,”

Margret  nods, smiling bright while her armor clanks and her chainmail sways against her hips. “I’d say for someone to sound the alarm but I’m positive everyone already knows it’s coming. I’ll go down to the main square, there’s bound to be people there about to riot and we can’t have more blood upon our hands. Everyone else …” she looks around with her brilliant eyes, and Clint’s throat tightens the moment he realizes that this is actually happening and he’ll probably never see these men ever again. She collects herself smoothly, back straight and shoulders back. “.. it has been a pleasure knowing you all. This is not goodbye, I have faith we will all be reunited soon. For now, I’ll see you guys on the other side,” and then she’s out the door, grabbing the reins of a horse before mounting and riding off as her armor, though dull and scrapped and battered, shines brightly when the sun catches it.

Natasha grabs his hand, bringing Clint’s calloused hands up to her lips to kiss his misshapen knuckles before smiling sweetly. “Are you ready?” she asks, the room still but whistling as the wind picks up around them. “There’s others out there needing help,”

“It’ll be an honor to assist you, Lady Natasha,” he bows, tugging her hand towards the direction of the doors to get out of the castle quickly but before doing so, turning around and standing straight just like Margret  is. The Howlies are all adjusting their armor, making poor attempts of jokes to lighten the mood and elbowing each other. “Farewell for now, you crazy bastards, try not to miss me too much, alright?”

Dernier mumbles under his breath, taking a swing from his flask with a sour face. He shot Clint a shit-eating smirk, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Pray to the Lord that we’re far away enough from you for as long as possible, Hawkseye,”

Clint smiles, pulling Natasha out into the whirling wind that the smoke is kicking up in which he drapes his own cloak around Natasha’s head to block anything getting into her eyes. Their horses neigh from where they’re tied to, shaking their mighty manes and sighing loudly towards the ground. Natasha manages to mount Scarlet before Clint can get on Lucky’s beige back, holding the reins and looping it around his hands to get a tight grip of control on his horse. The stray hairs wisping at the base of her neck, Scarlet’s mane flying in the wind as the Curse drew nearer and nearer. It swallows up the red brick gates, charging towards the gathered up men, women and children in the circle with Margret  out of view. Clint’s vision blurs, seeing only the onyx abyss and lightning plaguing the entrance of the kingdom with fear and horror hanging over everyone’s head in the meantime. If it’s one thing that Clint has learned during the dark periods of his life, is that plunging into something that terrifies you seems to make it more bearable than waiting around for something to happen. So he rides head on into the Curse, Natasha right next to him as she looks at him with emerald eyes full of adventure and determination with fearlessness laced into her smile.

A flash of red is the last thing he sees before it all goes black and the roar of thunder the last thing to reach his ears before everything stops.

After marrying Rapunzel, Eugene realized only the day after the wedding that he should hold on to this woman tight and never let her go for as long as he shall live. Her caring nature and soft naive aura is a beautiful change of pace from the beginning of his life, the constant reminders being how softly she’d sing whenever doing anything from reading to talking a walk in the palace gardens in the light of day without a care in the world.

Even when there is a care to be given, Eugene can honestly give a lesser damn from his spot leaning against the door frame and watching the light of his life singing softly while arranging the drapes in their bedroom to let more light in. They haven’t talked about the Curse since he got back from the meeting. Whenever he stepped out to go to the secret meetings he, Stephen, and Natasha have been having, she never comments or asks where he is going, just asks him to not forget to be home by dinner.

She’s a fiery gal, through and through when it comes down to it but Eugene always prefers to see her in her own little world while trying to get on her tip toes to reach a spot where the cloth folds in on itself unattractively.

“Ahem,” he calls, pushing himself off the frame with a swagger in his step the moment she turns around - pink dress swaying from the movement. “You know, your majesty, I do believe that those drapes … look absolutely hideous in this room, are you really telling me that Gunter couldn’t have done a better job with this room?”

Rapunzel giggles, scrunching up her face in mock warning. “Eugene,” she warns, folding her arms against her chest with a curl of her eyebrow. Her eyes dart to the frying pan hanging from the wall, lips curling into a smirk when she meets his eyes again. Eugene gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat at the reminder of the nice bump she’s left him many, many, many, times. She turns back to them, stepping backwards until she’s standing next to Eugene. “You know, they’re missing a little touch, don’t you think?” she chimes, looking at the vase on the nightstand with an abundance of flowers and her paint box next to it.

“Rapunzel, I don’t think I can allow you to paint our curtains especially since they’re too thin,” he muses from his spot, one hand on his hip and the other stroking the small patch of hair on his chin. “I mean, the paint will go right through and I’ll have to get Natasha to go to that creepy Chinese dock with all the explosives and good drapes,”

“I don’t think she’ll mind too much,” Rapunzel smiles, already framing the patterns of her art on the walls to those on the drapes. “Last time she was there, she won about half a fortune from one game alone,”

“Natasha is Natasha and besides, she and Clint were counting cards, I hope you know that, Punzie,” Of course Rapunzel did, it wasn’t exactly subtle the walk there when the couple slipped cards into their sleeves and arm braces. “And there isn’t really much they can do with the money now, with ... you know … coming up,”

The brunette's features flash concerned for a moment, coming into Eugene’s line of sight with a gentle smile on her lips and a small tilt of her head. “Eugene, it’ll be alright. Stephen says that we might not even have to wait that long, okay? And I bet you anything that Snow White and Prince James are coming up with a plan as we speak,”

“And what if nothing happens, Rapunzel?” he grabs her delicate fingers in his own, pressing his lips against her knuckles. “I love you, and I don’t want to lose you. You’re the light of my life, Sunshine, and I can’t imagine myself without you by my side to nag me every step of the way,”

She snorts a little, scrunching her freckled nose at him. “You ruined the moment, you big jerk,” she laughs, flicking his forehead and ignoring his howl of pain in favor for grabbing the bunches of flowers to carry them over to the open window where the drapes now flow slightly with every sigh of wind. She begins putting the bigger ones in first; peonies, roses, sunflowers, and so on. Then followed by the more decorative ones like lavenders, bellflowers, forget-me-nots, and more so. And finally reaching the the point where she tries to poke the stems of lilies into the easily ripped fabric. Eugene has to admit; they do add more of a soft and light feel to the room. Toll really outdid himself with the flowers this week.

He’s basking in the sight of the light just reaching the best parts of Rapunzel’s hair to make the chocolate strands look shiny, her freckles now highlighted against the bright sun when a shadow passes over her and the smile on her face slowly fades into a frown. “Eugene?” she calls, eyes glued to something out the wind. “What is that ..?”

Eugene follows her finger to see a wave of dark smoke crossing the lake in front of the castle at a quick pace, looming over the sparkling water as it barely hovers above it yet sends ripples of small waves heading towards the bridge connecting to the castle. The Curse. It’s been cast. “No,” he breaths, taking his wife into his arms tightly as to shield her from the view of lightning rolling off the smoke and landing against the walls of the foundation or the lapping waves it’s creating. “No, no, no, no, Stephen was suppose to tell us when it got here!”

“It’s coming from the North …” her breath becomes rapid until she gasps loudly, turning wide green eyes towards Eugene as her bottom lip trembles. “Jack and Hiccup … oh no,”

Eugene swallows hard, petting her hair lightly when she shakes her head softly at the information. “Shh, it’s going to be okay, honey, they’re fine,” he chants it like a prayer, seeing men in boats being absorbed by the cloud soundlessly. He can feel the woman in his arms vibrating with sobs, thinking back to her best friends who are God knows where with God knows who being done God knows what to. The kingdom falls victims to a looming shadow, drowning the light as everyone within the walls stop and stare with the royal guards rushing from the castle to the bridge that connected the castle to the woods that stretch out for miles. Eugene could only stand still with his wife in his arms and watch as the guards are plucked one by one into the mass of darkness. It’s coming fast and Eugene doesn’t know what will happen.

The door to their room bursts open, Merida stepping through with curls swirling behind her as the rush of wind appears to be gushing as if paving the road for the Curse to travel through. Her eyebrows are furrowed in fury, holding her bow in a tight fist. “Rapunzel, Eugene, are you all alright?” she asks with a thick Scottish accent, striding across the room with her cloak dragging behind. “It’s the Cure, isn’t it? It’s here,”

“We’ve heard word that the Queen’s Curse failed,” Eugene says, looking out the window at the cloud advancing towards them. “She must’ve recasted it,”

“Whatever she did, it worked,” Merida comments, walking up to Rapunzel and standing next to the couple. The Curse lets out a bellow of thunder, lightning coursing through every roll and lump on it and gushing window strong enough to shake loose some of the flowers from the drapes.

“It’s too late,” Rapunzel sighs, watching a lily glide past her gown and then looks back at Eugene with determination in her eyes. “All we can do now if hope that she doesn’t take you from me,”

Eugene’s hand finds her and squeezes, ignoring Merida’s gags coming from somewhere next to them. “I wouldn’t dream of letting you go,” he hums, smiling at her with his trademark grin that she once told him looks way more appealing than his smolder.

Merida snorts. “I hate to ruin your moment, loves, but we’ve got company and I think it’ll be on Hell of a show if we all went down together, ya?” she nods her head towards the general direction of the door, hinting at the grand balcony they use for special occasions. This isn’t the happiest there is but it sure as hell is a special one. She walks ahead first, almost sprinting to the grand doors and out into the open air where they all gasp at the sight.

The Curse is bigger than they thought.

It towers over the entire kingdom, forcing everyone who hasn’t been scooped up already into the furtherst corner of the plaza which happens to by below the balcony of the palace. It surrounds them all, branching so far across the ocean that Eugene can barely see where it ends horizontally. It looks like a mighty wave, slow on the approach and for a second the entire kingdom watches in awe as it pauses in its path. It’s huge enough to envelope them all in one go, some of it already advancing past them on all sides. Then it drops like a rock, straight towards Eugene and Rapunzel and he only has so much time to grab his wife and pull her into his strong arms, shielding her from it with his body.

He feels its icy touch against his face, feeling a force literally trying to rip her from him and the last shred of light he probably will ever see is reflected in Rapunzel’s hair. For a moment, he swears he can hear the slight sound of laughing and music before it all just slips.

Petorosu knew.

Petorosu knew the Curse was going to arrive against their best efforts and honestly thought that Stephen’s obsession to find a way out of it is going to fail. He just doesn’t get that this thing is bigger than all of them put together; Eugene, Natasha, Snow White, Stephen, Hiccup, hell, maybe even the Evil Queen. Petorosu is smart, so when he tells Stephen that it won’t work for the millionth time, he honestly expected him to take his word seriously and help him and Wade lock up all their valuables in case some people aren’t cursed and decide to loot Wade’s fountain. However, instead of getting the afternoon to himself and his husband, he ends up following Stephen to Rumpelstiltskin’s cell like the good little loyal knight he is.

So there he is; standing behind Stephen with his helmet off and watching as the man in front of him approaches the cell. It’s cold in there, the only light coming from a torch against the wall that gave the Dark One an eerie glow to it.

The man smiles once Stephen is in front of him, curling his fingers around the bars slowly so that it’s a ripple effect from his pinky to his index finger. His bloodcurdling smile is wide, his nose scrunching up in amusement with a wrinkle against his eyes while his soulless eyes see right into Stephen’s soul. “Ah, Prince Stephen Grant Rogers!” Rumpelstiltskin hums, giggling after. “If I remember correctly, this is the one, two .. third time you’ve come to see me about … him!”

“It’s good to see you behind bars, Rumpelstiltskin, where you belong,”

“Oh don’t act all high and mighty, dearie. And here I was, delighted that someone has come to me,” he says, his shaking his head slightly as if in disappointment. His nose scrunches up even more, his smile still plastered on his greyish face and never falters. “The answer is still the same, love,”

“And what is that?”

“About your little lover boy. The answer is that I. Don’t. Give. A. Damn.” and then he giggles, like this is so funny to him. He didn’t expect Stephen to lash out, pounding his fist against the bars so hard that it rattled the others along it. Petorosu didn’t flinch, instead drew his wakizashi as a precaution in case Stephen has angered the man. “Oooh! You’ve got a bite!”

“We want to know how we can stop the curse,” Petorosu calls from behind Stephen, earning himself a look from the Prince in front of him and Rumpelstiltskin. He shrugs, making an exaggerated frown.

“Maybe you want to know, but not Rogers,” he hums, tilting his head back and forth in a taunting manner at Stephen. “Besides, I already told Snow White what will save you all,”

Stephen’s hands curl into fists at his side, and Petorosu tries to dismiss the glint of silver in his grasp that’s being squeezed so hard that he’s positive it’ll cave in on itself. He hopes to God it doesn’t - he doesn’t want to be the one to pick up the pieces if Stephen shattered right now. “You created the curse,” Stephen grunts out, looking down at him. “Reverse it,”

“One, I can’t if I wanted too. Her Majesty the Queen has already casted the curse and there is no reversing it. Two, do you honestly think that I trust her enough to let her just … cast me into this spell with her? No, no, no no no. I have a plan, see,” he muses, smiling brighter than before. “I know things she doesn’t and that’s what gives me an advantage against her,”

“And you expect all of us to sit around and wait until your plan pans out? How do I know we can trust you?”

“That’s the thing, dearie. You don’t,” he leans his face closer to Stephen as he says this, giggling again and stepping away from the bars.

Stephen took a deep breath and turns his back to him, his blue cloak thrown behind him as he strides out of the cave with a snarl on his face and his jaw clenched so tightly that Petorosu can see the bone bulging near his ear. In all his years, Petorosu has never seen him this aggravated over another person. The Prince is one of the nicest and sweetest person Petorosu knows yet right now, even looking at him makes him want to cringe and stay fifteen paces behind. It must be all the muscles. Petorosu can already hear the memorized last rights the Priests give when he grabs Stephen’s shoulder and turns him around to fully face him.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on or do I have to turn around and ask Rumpelstiltskin?” Petorosu demands, face pinching in an angry scowl. Stephen remains emotionless, looking up and down the smaller man as if he can’t actually see him. “If this is abou-”

“That’s none of your concern, Petorosu,” he spits back, narrowing his blue eyes at him. Petorosu lets out an exasperated breath, throwing his arms up in frustration.

“Don’t try to act like we don’t know!” Petorosu tries to keep his voice level, he really does, but when Stephen is threatening all their safety for this, he can’t expect Petorosu to know blow up in his face about this. It’s a crucial time for all of them and they can’t have a Prince with his head stuck in the past messing up. “We all know you didn’t come here about the curse so just admit that you’re trying to find out where he is!”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe something happened to him?!” Stephen shouts back like he has a bitter taste in his mouth that can only go away by snapping at Petorosu. He kinda walked into that himself. “If this curse is going to take away all our happiness and if you were in my shoes, what would you do, Petorosu? If someone knew something you needed to know so badly that your chest and head and every inch of your body is too tight to breathe … don’t tell me that you wouldn’t do the same for Wade,”

“That’s different, Stephen!”

“How is that any different than what I’m going through?!”

“Because I will always love him!” Petorosu cries, pausing for a second to regain all the breath he let out during his outburst as his chest heaves uselessly at the thought of Wade in the same situation. “I love Wade, scars and burns and everything! And I would still love him if he didn’t have all that! I love him for him! How do you think Rumpelstiltskin found his true love? She saw him for who he is behind all that and I see Wade the same way! No matter what he chooses to do or to be, I will always support him because I want him to be happy! You- You think that he’ll be the same or he’ll be happy with you but have you ever, ever, stopped to think that maybe not being with you is what makes him happy?!”

Petorosu winces, seeing the expression on Stephen’s face. His eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly gaped, staring somewhere on the floor with his eyebrows pinched in concentration while trying to figure out if he would be happy. The brunette sighs, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I’m not saying that you don’t love him or that he doesn’t love you … I’m saying that … whatever this Curse will do … it’s useless to look for him now when your biggest priority should be the kingdom. He can survive on his own, he has been for this long. Worry about the kingdom,”

“I can’t just … I love my kingdom, Petorosu, no mistake about that. But he needs me more and I’m going to find him,”

“How? You don’t even know where he is,”

“I have my ways,”

Smirking, Stephen mounts on his horse effortlessly, tightening the reigns around his hands once or twice. “Go to Wade, Petorosu. The Curse is coming and I’ll be damned if I keep you from Wade any longer,” he demands, then he flashes him a smile that has so much emotion, so much character that Petorosu almost has to pinch himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming. He hasn’t seen a smile like that since, well, since before. “I thank you for your service to the kingdom, farewell, Sir Petorosu Park,” and just like that, he’s riding towards to horizon.

It figures that when Petorosu gets back, he finds Wade neglecting his previous responsibilities by sitting outside the hidden arch. Normally Petorosu would’ve been all over him, chastising and scolding him about actually doing something rather than sit and make whirlpools just because he can, maybe watching the water drip from between his scarred and burned fingers while his chocolate eyes watch it with longing. His chunks of blonde hair flow easily in the wind while tremors shake him, causing him to lift his blood colored cloak over his bald head - scars and all. Petorosu can’t stop the urge to yell at him about securing the fountain or not being out and helping little old ladies like he had instructed him to do earlier but all Petorosu could do in that moment is pull his glistening sword from its spot next to him side and drop both the sword and his helmet onto the ground with a clank that gets Wade’s attention.

He shoots up to his feet in an instant, already smiling fondly like he knows that Petorosu is going to yell at him for being a lazy piece of ass. He leans against the arch with his shoulder holding some of his weight, arms crossed over his chest with a nonchalant smile on his face. “Before you say anything, love, I just want you to know that I was just about to start se-” he starts, voice calm and collected before Petorosu shushes him loudly by saying his name, followed by a soft “I love you” from his pink lips.

Next thing he knows, Petorosu is throwing his arms around Wade’s neck, on the tip of his toes barely touching the grass under his boots while he presses his forehead into the underside of Wade’s jaw and presses a soft kiss against it. There’s one particular scar there, one that’s a little deeper of a pit than the rest and neither of them know why, just that somehow, a small freckle the size of a match head with an even smaller pin prick closer to it still remains there. It’s no secret that Petorosu loves that spot, it reminds him of that night a while back. Wade wraps his arms around his smaller waist, pressing him closer against his body while kissing the crown of Petorosu’s head. The air that is usually still around them shifts slightly, but Petorosu sighs lightly into the smell of fresh water and grassy plains that seems to be Wade’s unique scent. “What’s wrong, Peto? Everything alright?” Wade whispers, running his wet fingers through Petorosu’s chocolate hair lightly until he felt his lover’s shoulders lax against him. Petorosu can feel Wade’s colorless lips against his hairline, brushing his thumbs against his cheekbones.

“Just hold me, Wade, and shut up,” he sighs, though there isn’t any real venom in his words. He just wants to remember this for as long as he could - remember the smell of the fern colored long grass and fresh water streaming so close by, the sounds of birds chirping in the trees overhead and the rustling of plant life all around them, the feel of warm sunshine licking his fingers and Wade’s arms holding him against his chest tightly enough that Petorosu knows that his armor cutting into Wade’s already scarred arm. It seems like he’s ignoring the pain and instead petting his dark chocolate hair slowly as the tight muscles in his shoulders start to loosen. He pulls away slightly, and sighs lightly. “We talked to Rumpelstiltskin today,”

Petorosu steps away, walking towards the general direction of their cabin near the lake but instead stops to marvel at the fresh water that lightly laps at the pebbles near the grass. He can hear Wade scoffing behind him, the sound of the grass being pushed down against his weight starts to get louder until Wade is standing next to him. “And?”

“Stephen actually managed to ask him about the curse,” Petorosu shakes his head and gives a sour chuckle, “Then Rumpelstiltskin tells him that the Curse … it’s coming, Wade, and I just want … just some- some time with you …”

Wade smiles lightly, reaching up to his sky colored eyes wholeheartedly. He takes a deep breath, and Petorosu is already preparing to completely tune out from listening to Wade with a smirk. “Well, love, I honestly just can’t believe that you’d just confess that you want to spend the last remainder of your time here with me. I mean, loyalty and all that is basically everything you learned in samurai school, honestly, but this is so sweet! What’s Japanese for ‘I accept your love now hug me’?” Wade chatters, though Petorosu just rolls his eyes and chuckles at him.

“Watashi wa anata o aishiteimasu ga, bakada,” Petorosu mutters, smiling at his lover while watching his scarred face twist up in a scowl as he tries to go over the little Japanese he has picked up during their time together.

“Okay, call me crazy but I am positive your Aunt May called me that last part before,” he says, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Bakada, what does that mean? Is it rude? Tell me, Toro, please?”

“Oh it’s lovely, alright!” he muses, winking at him. “Just don’t repeat it back to anyone,”

“I’ll have you know that I have people who can tell me when you’re being mean, Gwendolyn can tell me,”

“Gwendolyn? Are you talking about Yumiko?”

“Yeah, she can tell me if you called me something mean, you know. She has before!” Wade crosses his arms like a disgruntled child trying to prove a point, and if he stomped his foot he could be an exact portrait of Petorosu when he was a young boy.

He didn’t have time to dwell on the thought of a young Wade by the time the ground around them grew dark and colder, a stone as heavy as himself settles in his stomach. Even Wade stops his chatter to look at around them, the waves on the lake starts to splash and spray at them with force while a cluster of birds squawk overhead before taking off the moment a swirling mass of smoke starts to loom over the clearing - the way it carries itself so fragile yet heavily as it moves through the air like a snake reminds him of the clouds in the paintings his Onji Ben use to paint when he was a boy. Wade immediately reaches for him, shouting his name above the howling wind and thunder but all Petorosu can think of is the Curse. Rumpelstiltskin told them … but he didn’t expect that it would arrive this fast. He didn’t even get the chance to properly say goodbye to Wade; at least for now. He was going to tell him, tell him everything that he told Stephen about- about how much he loves him and can’t stand to lose him.

He feels Wade’s scarlet cloak drape over him, guarding him as the water’s spray starts to gurgle in his ears while trying it’s best effort to dry-drown them as best as possible. The Curse is starting to get closer, a mock attempt of looking like a roof over the clearing as Petorosu reaches for his tanto but Wade’s rough hand stops him, forcing the hilt back into its place. He presses his cheek against Petorosu’s, hugging his body closer to his own while saying something that’s being muffled by his shoulder. The code - the seppuku clearly prepared him for this. He has to do it but … he won’t if he knows that he and Wade will meet again. And they will. They will always find each other.

The Curse crashes down with brutal force, cracking the branches of the trees over them as some come cascading down around them heavily - leaves and twigs come raining down on their heads. He can smell something strange, the only way to describe it is sterile and something burning before it gets louder. There’s voices, and an irritating sound of something rapidly making a beep, beep, beep noise before the Curse surges around them like tea being poured into a cup and envelopes them completely with an unforgiving darkness that Petorosu is conscious of before blacking out just as he feels cold.

I have to keep riding, Stephen tells himself, I have to reach him before it’s too late.

He’s been obsessed. He’s been isolating himself from his family, his friends, his kingdom - everyone. He knows what they are saying about him behind his back, talking about how it’s unhealthy and to just admit that this isn’t a victory he can have in his belt but Stephen has never been one to back down, never one to abandon something he puts his heart into. Petorosu doesn’t get it, and he didn’t expect him to.

Stephen already stopped by Rumpelstiltskin’s old castle, the door was gaping wide as the insides looked absolutely ravished by thieves or loved ones coming to retrieve objects that he stole from them in exchange for something else. The furniture was thrown over and broken, tapestries ripped and gathering dust on the floor that have been building up since Rumpelstiltskin’s capture back six months ago. There was three peasants there - two were an older couple and a young man - who stop and stare at him for a moment like startled wolves, eyes wide with fear and surprise as the young man holds a goblet close to his chest. Stephen waves them off, directing his attention to hurriedly look for the potion. He’s seen the effects before and he knows it’s one-hundred percent guaranteed to help him find James, he thought he could find him himself but he can’t waste another day.

It was in a small glass bottle, the liquid inside is purple and it glows in the dark chest that he finds it in near a dirty old cloak fit for a child - possibly the one from the sketch on parchment paper he finds on top of it all. The glass is covered in dust and shines brighter when he swipes his thumb over the golden cursive lettering reading “Locator Spell”. He sighed gently through his nose and pulled out the necklace he’s had with him for years, wrapping the silver chain around his hand twice and dipped the key into the bottle until it starts to shine violet. Stephen watched as it shines a beam of light towards the North, where the snow covered mountains that he knows the Ice Queen Elsa lives.

He knows the Curse is licking his heels as he rides, forcing his horse to run faster and faster while trying to keep some of his weight off Shield as much as possible. His mane bounces with every clunk of his hooves against the dirt road, waiting for Stephen to change direction if needed. The beam shines through trees and bushes, guiding him to where he truly needs to be before it gains on him. The forest starts to become scarce, and the ground starts to look cracked like a draught had swept the land before it starts to get covered by thin frost and snow the closer he gets to the onyx castle that sits on top of the highest mountain along the range. A blizzard picks up as Shield neighs in discomfort, shaking his whole body completely to rid himself of the snowflakes that cling to his brunette mane like stars in the sky. Stephen shivers violently, yet forces himself to see the key grow brighter the more ground they cover but the cold is making his eyes feel dry, blurring and unfocusing at times just as Shield neighs louder against the wind as he keeps running. Had he known … he would’ve come more equipt instead of rushing out without a second glance behind him. The only thing protecting him from the element is his cloak that keeps his back protected but other than that, he’s completely exposed.

He hears someone.

He can hear someone crying out against the wind - God, what would he give for Jack to be here to halt the storm - and the key is shining at its brightest, even starting to dim as the yells grow louder. Stephen can taste bile in his mouth, sour and ash being swallowed down with difficulty when the storm lights to a soft breeze, clear enough to clearly see someone struggling wildly without avail under a collapsed column from the castle. The key stops shining. The moment his feet hit the snow, a shock of cold spikes up his legs but he pushes through until he’s standing in front of the struggling man. He only manages to come within three steps from the man before he starts to kick more viciously, snarling like a trapped animal down on its last legs and Stephen’s heart completely shatters as he can vividly see the man’s face not covered in spit and blood-covered strands of hair.

It’s James.

It’s James, with wild stormy blue eyes blown wide as he stares straight through Stephen like he can’t think of any logical or magical way to explain what he’s seeing. He’s baring his teeth, making choked out sounds like he’s trying to scream but is either too angry or afraid, so much that he can only make pained breathes as he tries to push the column off his left arm. Stephen can feel his throat go dry, watching the man on the floor pull and push and fighting for his life desperately. His skin is pale, lips blue and when Stephen crouches closer to him enough to see the snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes in clusters, he begins to wonder how long has he been laying under the column with no one to help him as he grunts and tries to push the structure off of him.

“It’s okay, James,” he whispers, taking a hold of the heavy slab of rock as he breathes deeply. “It’s going to be alright, I’m going to get this off of you, just- stay with me, James,”

He tightens his hold until he’s sure that it won’t slip and pulls. Pulls with all his might and strength, throwing his head back as he feels the column slowly rise. It slips a bit, and it breaks his heart to see James’ wince slightly, expecting it to fall on his already injured left arm. Stephen rests the column lightly on James’ arm to readjust his hold, though it doesn’t make it any easier when he hears James scream in pain and he honestly can’t blame him. His whole arm is covered in blood, bleeding through the black fabric of his tunic and staining the chain mail, painting the ice scarlet underneath it making his hand look paler than it really is in comparison. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Stephen breathes, eyebrows knitted in worry while he tries to keep the hard feeling in his stomach under control. He swears, the moment he finds out who left his best friend here to die, he’s going to rip them limb from limb with his bare hands and hang them in his chamber to remind himself - to remind James - that Hell’s wrath is a mere name calling compared to him. “I’m almost done, I promise,”

He hugs the column closer to his chest, grunting as he lifts it higher and higher. Stephen awaits for James to lift his arm away from under it, breathing deeply through his nose as he feels the tendons in his neck tighten with every passing moment. It’s only then when he realizes that James is trying - his shoulder is twitching as he tries to move to body to the other side - but he can’t seem to lift his arm from the moan he manages to produce. Stephen gasps, now redirecting his focus to rolling it over until it comes crashing away from James. He’s sweating feverishly, whimpering softly as he tries to keep his eyes open as much as possible to stare up at Stephen while his mouth moves around words that seem way too big for his mouth. He’s exhausted, probably tired himself out while struggling for Lord knows how long. “I ..” James swallows, a tremor vibrating through his battered body. “I know you … I knew you,”

Stephen carefully wraps an arm under his torso, another arm across his chest to pull him closer to Stephen - he left out a shrill cry as Stephen drags James’ injured arm across colder ice and even shifts his head slightly so that it’s leaning against the blonde’s elbow. His skin is deathly frigid, almost like touching a corpse, but all Stephen can do is cling to the feeling of his best friend finally in his arms after all this time. “Yeah, yeah, James, you’ve known me your whole life,” he chuckles, feeling the tears in his eyes tickle down halfway his cheek before freezing.

“Who’s … Who the hell is James?”

Stephen can practically feel his heart shatter, bits and pieces breaking to uneven, jagged chunks that fall heavily to the pit of his stomach. He forgot him. James forgot Stephen - he had given him a piece of himself to hold dear to his memory yet Stephen hadn’t returned to favor. He lets out a shaky breath, looking up towards the sky with tears running more rapidly down his paling cheeks as Shield neighs in warning.

The Curse doesn’t seem like a big threat now, nothing left to lose when everything he has feared the moment it was announced until now has come crashing down like a sick joke from the Heavens. What possible curse could be worst than this? What can Regina do to them that can turn his already shattered heart into pounded dust? The thundering darkness is coming closer, he can feel the hairs on his neck stand on end as the harder winds pounding against them with a force of rage that is also building up in him.

It’s here. It’s here and nothing can take his guard down from protecting James as much as possible now. Stephen breathes a deep sigh, muttering to James when he starts to whimper and grunt as he pushes his hood down to see frozen blood tangled behind his head while other strands lick at his shoulders limply. He uses the hand pressed against James’ back to lift him slightly - just enough so that his head is raised above his arm and he can put the necklace around his neck, the least he can do for him is give some piece of him back. “James, I’m with you, okay? I will not let you go ever again, you hear me? I’m with you until the end of the line, James,” he smiles, though James gives him a honest to God worn out expression that makes his heart-ache just at the sight of it.

Shield is trying desperately to get his attention, neighing and pacing around them for an escape route but all Stephen can do is hug James closer to himself and watch the the Curse charge at them with violent reckless force. He places a delicate touch upon his chestnut strands, giving some sort of comfort as he watches his friend's eye slip between blissful darkness and fearsome reality. The thunderous booms shakes the ground, chunks of ice and snow hitting them like rocks the size of fists against his face and arms and back.

The Curse is a few feet away now and James gives a hoarse breath as his eyes slip into focus, bowing his head against the Prince's collarbone and clenching onto the cloak as a child would to the dress of his mother. Stephen manages to throw him down into the snow, his body on top of the other before the Curse comes washing over them as he can feel the pull of it forcing James away from under him.

Stephen holds on for as long as he can before he swears the sound of laughter - James’ laughter - breaks through the darkness and thunder, lulling the prince to a fitful rest just as everything slips from his hands once more.

Mayor Regina Mills awakes to bright sunshine shining through her window, highlighting the rest of the room where she is in something light and soft that she doesn’t remember seeing since her bedroom back when she lived with both of her parents - back before it all began. She sits up slowly, pushing cream colored blankets away from her body only to notice that she’s wearing silk sleepwear as she lets her hands and fingers feel the material for a second more than normal. Throwing her legs over the bed, she reaches up with both hands to feel at her black strands to notice that they are indeed shorter than she remembers back in the Enchanted Forest.

The former Queen takes gentle strides over to the window, pushing apart the thin curtains to reveal a whole town. Rooftops not made of hay or stone but instead of red and black ceramics that cower before a clock tower painted the color of egg shells further away but the highest structure by far. “I did it,” she breathes, her lips twitching in a slight smile, “I won,” she takes slow steps backwards as the realization comes crashing down on her. The Curse worked, she wasn’t in the Enchanted Forest anymore. No more vile peasants, no more happy ending … no more pain. She smiles at her reflection when she grabs a dress from the walk in closet near her bed, savoring the moment as she realizes that this is the first time she’s smiled in a long, long time and has actually meant it. No more lying, no more deceiving, no more blood on her hands, no, now this is her happy ending.

She continues the lists of no mores as she surveys the town, her hands in her pockets as a slight breeze tassels some strands on her hair but otherwise, she tries to keep her smiling to a minimum. Across the street from her is the toy maker from an Italian village, Geppetto, as he fixes the sign outside his shop with a miserable grumble in his native tongue, “That should hold you,” just as Rumpelstiltskin passes by with a thoughtful expression on his now more … savory face. A blonde girl with flowers planted in her hair rushes past her, tying and apron two times over her slim waist (name tag reading Lillian) while her ballerina shoes patter lightly against the sidewalk but she manages a bright smile before crossing the street over to a flower shop labeled boldly as E. Aster’s Florals and even greets a curly haired redhead that’s fixing arrangements in the window display.

“I cannot believe, you put me on the early shift!” a huff from scarlet dressed young woman says, leaning against a white arch that stands at the entrance of a small diner and the mayor immediately remembers her from when she attacked her knights a while ago. An old woman is setting up a sign (Open. Granny’s Diner!) next to her, sighing at her granddaughter.

“Not my fault you stayed out all night!” she argues, storming past the taller woman while giving her a once over at the skimpy outfit. “And when I said I put over easy on the menu, I was talking about the eggs!”

Regina’s eyebrows rise slowly at the conflict as she passes by, clearly feeling the woman’s eyes boring at the back of her head. A teenage boy passes her, completely oblivious of her existence, cradling a polaroid camera close to the navy blue hoodie he has on with his chocolate eyes watching seagulls fly overhead amongst the overcast sky. When she turns back from watching the teenage boy - Jack Frost, no less - she’s met by looking pointedly at the smiling face of a ginger man holding the leash of a dalmatian dog, using his umbrella as a cane when he passes by with a cheery, “Morning, Madame Mayor,”

“Good morning, Crick--” she stops herself, her smile fades before looking back up and saying in a more stern voice, “Dr. Hopper,”

He stops briefly as the dog whines at the sudden action, though he starts his pace up and leaves with a “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” and Regina can’t help but smile back at the foolish man.

“Yes,” she breathes with a laugh, one corner of her mouth higher than the other as she continues, “Yes it is,”

She walks smoothly across the town, seeing people she remembers and some she’s sure have aided the rebellion to bring her down. She can practically feel their misery vibrating off their every being, and she can’t help but keep smiling like a toddler. A brunette young man closes the door of a cafe labeled Sputnik with a plate of bread and a red mug of tea, crossing the street to an art shop where he pauses momentarily to see a blonde male smile and kiss a beautiful woman with a briefcase - and if Regina knows heartbreak, she can see the emotions rolling off the tragically sweet young man as he watches the scene unfold before him yet still pushes open the door with a fake smile.

 A few stores down from the cafe, Regina looks in the window of a dance studio to see a young girls’ ballet class in session with a petite yet unmistakably skilled woman teaching the class, showing the girls stretches that involve on leg over the bar and her body bending until her fingers touch the tip of her worn slippers. A young girl next to her smiles, eyes wrinkling as she says, “Thank you, Miss. Natalia,”

At the hospital, she breathes a sigh of bliss when Snow White - Mary Margaret Blanchard - looks upon the man she was married to with pity, absolutely no clue of who he is as she replaces the dying flowers at his bedside with fresher ones. When she steps out of the room, a young Japanese man in pristine white scrubs rushes past her, smiling and greeting her as “Madam Mayor” before continuing his hurriedly path down the hall with a name badge reading Peter Parker.

The walk home is a pleasant one, the Queen’s shoulders finally lax to know that she is now the winner, the one with a happily ever after, the tables are turned with her on the top as she watches the others reach for their own happy endings but instead fail to grasp it as it slips past their fingers like water in a bucket full of holes. She stands just in front of a souvenir shop, smiling as she picks up a postcard with the picture of the clock tower that she was pleased to learn has stopped ticking and in white letters that scream with enthusiasm, reads:

‘Welcome to Storybrooke’.