Chapter Text
“We have a problem,” David announced as he pushed open the door to Granny’s diner.
Emma pivoted on her heels toward the sound of David's voice. Just as she was about to open her mouth, she spotted it: the glowing burst of light shooting out from the ground on the opposite side of town, beaming into the sky like a spotlight. The glow, an angry shade of orange, burned her eyes but she couldn't look away.
"What the hell is that?"
“I thought that with Zelena taken care of, we'd get at least five minutes of peace in this town,” David laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck, the soft laughter a fickle attempt to ease the tension among patrons at the diner. But it was no use, they all inched closer to the windows, crowding around to peer at the latest town spectacle.
“It seems Zelena couldn't resist leaving behind a token for us all to remember her by before departing Storybrooke,” Rumple chimed in. The sound of his cane hitting the ground startled Emma out of her trance. She blinked, finding little relief from the bright glow of the light, and straightened her shoulders.
"I'm on it," she huffed in declaration. Before anyone could protest, she pushed open the door and sprinted in the direction of the spotlight on the other side of town.
When the door shut behind her, the patrons kept their gaze locked out the window. Mary Margaret let out a cry and turned to her husband.
"Don't let her handle this alone, David. Go after her!"
With one firm nod, he rushed out in the same direction Emma had disappeared toward. Turning left off of Main Street, he peered in both directions but his daughter was already out of sight. He yanked his phone out of his front pocket and dialed Emma's number, pressing the phone to his ear for only a brief moment before the dial tone sent him to voicemail.
Far ahead, Emma approached the barn slowly. The light was undoubtedly coming from inside, and she reluctantly took a few steps toward it. She realized she should have called for backup as soon as the barn doors slammed open on their own accord. She sighed and reached into the back pocket of her jeans and gripped her cell phone, but felt a sudden tug on her ankles before she could dial. Her phone crashed to the dirt floor at the same moment she did. Its screen illuminated, flashing David's name across the screen, just as the weight of her body was violently yanked forward and down into the beam of light.
****
Echoes of the impact of her body crashing to the forest floor reverberated off of the trees that surrounded her, and she stood quickly. Taking in her surroundings, she watched the way the sunlight crept through thick branches to illuminate the greenery surrounding her.
"Where the hell am I?" She groaned, brushing clumps of dirt off of the back of her pant legs. Glancing around again to survey the area, she took a few steps in each direction before concluding that it looked like any other ordinary forest.
A sudden sound of rustling branches and tires rustling a dirt path caused her to snap upright. A dark carriage was approaching, inching closer as Emma rushed to duck behind the nearest bush and keep herself hidden from plain sight.
“Why are we stopping?”
The alarmingly cold voice sent a chill down Emma's spine, but she didn't dare to move an inch as her eyes remained locked on the carriage as the side door swung open. She pressed her lips together to suppress a soft gasp that threatened to spill out of her chest.
"I'm sorry, your majesty. A tree has fallen, and we want to ensure it didn't damage your carriage."
"Regina," Emma whispered, her voice breathless as the words caught in her chest. Her mouth was now fully gaped open as she took in the sight in front of her. Not the Regina she knew, but instead, something far more sinister and captivating. Long, dark hair tumbled down to the small of her back, and a black corset laced so tightly that it accentuated the already-perfect figure Emma was ashamed to admit she knew all too well.
From her spot in the bushes, Emma could clearly make out the dark, smoky rim of black eyeliner and the purple lipstick adorning her features. All at once, the gears in her head clicked back into place and she understood what she was looking at.
The Evil Queen huffed and rolled her eyes, impatiently eyeing two of her guards as they pushed the fallen tree branch to clear the path. When she seemed satisfied that they were able to continue on their journey, she turned on her heels and ducked back inside the carriage. Emma finally exhaled, not realizing she'd been holding her breath since the moment she had laid eyes on Regina's carriage.
As soon as the carriage was out of sight, Emma dropped down to sit on a thick log, resting her chin against the palm of her opened hand. While the Queen looked harder, colder, and more regal than the Regina she knew, there was no visible difference in appearance that would lead Emma to believe she was any younger than Regina was in present-day Storybrooke. She wondered for a moment if the portal transferred her to a realm where Regina never casted the dark curse. Where she was still the Evil Queen. But a memory hit her like a speeding truck: a page from Henry's book she'd spotted that showed the Queen's carriage breaking down in a similar fashion. But that had happened nearly thirty years ago, to a time when Regina was planning to cast the dark curse, but it wasn't set in action quite yet.
Emma thought back to a memory of Regina: countless hours of magic lessons and Regina going on about how magic works differently in different realms. Curiosity getting the best of her, Emma rotated her wrist to try and ignite a flame with her magic.
When nothing happened, she groaned and tried again. Nothing.
"Great, just great.” The words were barely out of her mouth before a terrifying laugh that she knew would haunt her nightmares startled her out of her deep concentration. She jumped up from the log and turned, ready to take a swing at imminent danger. When she saw who was waiting for her, she choked.
“Gold?” Emma asked, eyes wide as she did her best to take in the sight of the person in front of her. She was surprised at how quickly she'd recognized him, despite the stark change in appearance.
“No gold here, dearie. Might I introduce myself? Rumplestiltskin,” he said with immense elaboration on the rolling R as he bowed to her. “And you are?”
“In big trouble,” Emma replied vaguely. “Look, Gold — Rumplestiltskin. I need your help.”
The imp began to giggle. Emma thought she saw him hop up and down with joy as his laughter rolled off his tongue.
“You need my help?” He began, dramatically placing a scaly hand over his chest. “Oh dear, oh dear, my my my, do I love that. What exactly did you have in mind, dearie?”
“This is going to sound ridiculous, but I'm not... I'm not from here.”
“Well, that much I gathered,” he stated. “Red leather isn't exactly all the rage in this neck of the woods. So, would you like to tell me where you're from or shall we make this a riddle?” He began to laugh again, bouncing on his heels.
“No. No riddles. I told you – I need help,” Emma paused. “I’m from the future.”
“That's impossible, dearie. Not a single person who wields magic has mastered time travel, not even me.”
“Well, trust me, it's been done. I need to find a portal that will take me back to the future.”
“Portals can’t just be conjured up at will. Certainly, if you’re from the future, you must know that.”
“Yes, but… if I'm here,” she paused again, trying to work this all out inside her head. “Then that means I'm at risk of altering history and I'm putting everyone in danger.”
Rumple raised an eyebrow, studying her inquisitively. “And tell me again why I should believe a word from a stranger clad in faux leather?”
She took a breath, hoping that the truth in her words would help her situation. “Because if I don't get back, or if I alter anything in this existing storyline, my son will have never been born — and you'll need him to break your curse in your effort to reunite with your son.”
All the radiant color drained from the imp’s grainy skin. He reached forward and grabbed ahold of Emma’s jacket collar. “What do you know about my son?”
“I know you're trying to enact a curse in hopes of reuniting with him.” Her voice suddenly sounded smug as she caught the gleam in his eye. She knew this would work. “I'm the one who breaks the curse so you can find him. I'm the product of true love.”
“But I haven’t… I haven't done it yet,” he sputtered.
“You will. And you'll succeed. But I need your help.”
“Help?” Rumple laughed once again. “If you're really from the future,” he paused to take a step closer, “answer me one question: do I find my son?”
Emma’s hesitation and downward gaze only delayed her response for a brief moment as she thought of how to properly answer the question, but Rumple quickly lost patience.
“Answer me!” Rumple commanded.
“Yes,” she replied, trying to hide the remorse from her voice. “You do.”
“Baelfire,” Rumple whispered, releasing his grasp on Emma, his eyes seemingly glazing over in what appeared to be a trance as a soft, contended smile crept across his lips.
After a few moments of silence, Rumple spoke again, a realization illuminating his face that looked both wicked and hopeful. “King Midas’s ball.”
“What? A ball? You’re kidding.”
He opened his hand and conjured a piece of paper, extending his arm to hand Emma the invitation with golden, embossed letters.
She studied the invitation. “How will going to a ball at King Midas’s castle help me open a portal back to the future?”
“If you are who you say you are—the product of true love—then something tells me you'll figure it out, dearie. But first…”
Emma was engulfed in a cloud of purple smoke. When it cleared, she was outside of a castle with her hand clutching the invitation.
She looked down and realized her red leather jacket, jeans, and boots were gone, and in their place a red ball gown was flowing down over her body. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant updo and a dainty tiara rested on the crown of her head.
She let out a soft groan again, unsure if this was really the best way to make it home. But without a second option, she shrugged and took a few steps closer to the entrance of the castle. As she approached the guards, she did her best to remain calm and hand them her invitation. Nobody even stopped to ask for her name as she entered, so she tucked away into the crowd milling inside the ballroom.
As she swept her eyes around the large room, she dismissed the intimidating sensation of couples already swaying on the dance floor and continued to let her gaze roam. That's when she spotted them across the room: an unamused Kathryn who was mid-yawn and, standing at her side, Emma's father clad in his best dress attire.
"Shit," Emma muttered under her breath. She didn't know much about her current situation, but she did know she couldn't allow her father to see her. She shuffled back in the direction of the doors that she'd entered through only moments earlier, clumsily inching backward in attempt to make a discreet exit. Instead, she found herself colliding with a black knight.
Feeling her heart race, instinct kicked in and she raised an arm to take a swing, hoping to get past him and flee, far from the castle. But the impact of her fist crashing into his armor took her by surprise and he shoved her off of him quickly, causing Emma to crash into someone else in the process.
"Going somewhere, dear?"
The echo of the voice dancing in her ears sent a rush of heat and sheer panic through her bloodstream. Turning, Emma's gaze fell downward then slowly crept back up. Her breath hitched involuntarily as she drank in the sight of the Evil Queen clad in her ballgown, the crown on her head locked into its place with an extravagant hairdo.
“Regina,” she stammered. “I—”
“That's a bit informal, wouldn't you say?” The Evil Queen snapped, her voice cold enough to lock Emma in place all by itself if there weren’t already two guards approaching her and grabbing ahold of each arm. “Show some respect. It’s ‘your majesty’.”
Emma struggled under the guards’ tight hold, even though something told her that fighting them wouldn’t end well for her.
“You nearly took out one of my guards in your pathetic attempt to run from me,” the queen continued. “Were you that afraid of me that the mere thought of my presence had you fleeing for the exit?”
Emma didn’t say a word. Instead, she just struggled once more under the vice-like grip of the guards. Her gaze automatically darted toward the door.
“Ah, ah. You're not going anywhere,” The queen declared. She paused for a moment, stopping to properly take in the sight of the blonde wriggling before her.
Emma thought for a moment that Regina was going to either kiss her or kill her right then. She was looking at her with pure hunger in her eyes, taking in every inch of her body as if she were stripping the layers of the red gown off of her.
When her gaze lingered on Emma's chest, Emma's eyes went wide. She could've sworn she saw Regina lick her lips.
“In fact,” Regina mused. “I suspect your night has just begun.”
The sudden heat that began boiling like lava in her core sent her into a whole new level of shock and all she could do was stare back at the Evil Queen, only realizing how intense and mesmerizing the pantsuit-clad mayor back home could truly be.
Suddenly, her pulse was quickening, and words refused to form in her mind.
“Take her away!”