A Curse Upon Thee 2-5

“Arm yourselves.”

Emma Swan stared down at the spread of cold iron laid across the splintered wooden table, jaw tight as she eyed the edge of a broadsword. The late afternoon sun was bright enough, but under the thick canvas of the tent, it was almost dim.

It was a blessing; a small one, but still a blessing.

Honestly, if a pair of sunglasses landed out of nowhere, Emma would consider that a real blessing. It didn’t take long for the woman to realize that the Enchanted Forest might have been a magical realm, but it didn’t have much in the way of amenities. 

No air conditioning or running water, and certainly no bathrooms.

That much was obvious with the air in the refugee camp; thick with damp earth, woodsmoke, and the sour smell of too many barely-washed bodies packed into a desperate space, it was something that she was just barely getting used to after a week of being stuck here.

A week

Crazy how her life was constantly changing, and this was the biggest one.

Seven days of dragging her ass through thick woods, sleeping on mud, and breathing in the stink of a fairy tale she never asked to be part of.

“And be wise with your picks.” The young Asian woman Emma had come to know as Mulan and occasionally that bitch stood at the head of the table, dark eyes sweeping over the selection of blades. “The path to the ruined castle offers no quarter.”

Emma crossed her arms over her red leather jacket, leather stiff with dried mud and rainwater from the week of travel and lockup. “A rusty butter knife isn’t really high on my priority list. What I need is a shower.” A decent cup of coffee would help too, but she wasn’t trying to push it.

“I do not know how your realm works but know this.” Mulan’s expression didn’t shift as the armored woman turned her eyes her way. “No rainshower will hinder a forest ogre.”

Rain, what? Emma pulled a face. “…no, I mean, a ba-”

“Emma.” Mary Margaret stepped up beside her, reaching out to brush her fingers against a wooden bow. “She’s right. Let’s not argue. We already have a long walk ahead of us.”

Mulan nodded firmly. “You would do well to listen to your…” The armored woman frowned for a moment, clearly looking for a word. “…companion. Many have heard of Snow White and her skill in battle.” 

Emma dropped her gaze, the tight knot in her chest pulling just that little bit harder. Mary Margaret. 

That was the name she still used in her head, the name she knew as a friend for almost seven months. The only name that fit the quiet, mousy teacher who had shared her apartment with a stranger from out of town. 

Snow White was somebody else. 

Snow White was a fairy tale princess, the woman currently testing the tension of a bowstring with the practiced ease of a guerrilla fighter.

Snow White was her mother.

The curse breaking was supposed to fix things. 

That’s what everyone and literally her mother had her believe, but instead it just blew an elephant-sized hole right through the core of Emma’s survival logic. A whole life — almost twenty-nine years — of believing her parents left her by the road like a piece of trash and tossed aside by the system, just to learn that her parents had risked everything to toss her through a magic tree to make sure she lived.

It wasn’t fair.

That didn’t close any wound.

It just tore the edges up all over again.

Anger was the only armor she had left under apathy and how could she be angry at people she already cared about?

“I say give them nothing.”

Emma looked up from the table to look at the other woman who brought them in ropes to this camp. Princess Aurora stood near the tent flap, the brown-haired woman looking at them with eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Not this again.”

“They brought the wraith with them and cursed my Philip.”

“We didn’t bring anything.” Emma kept her tone as flat as she could, syllables edged with enough sharpness from seven days of this same frustrating accusation. “We were running from it. It came through the portal with us.”

“The result remains the same.” Mulan turned away from the weapons, hand resting on the pommel of her sword. “Phillip has lost his soul to the wraith’s grasp. “

The tent flap brushed open before the argument could go the same way it had before, a tall dark-skinned man in armor ducking his head to clear the canvas as he stepped inside.

Mary Margaret’s face lit up.  “Lancelot!” She left the bow on the table and closed the distance in a few quick steps, wrapping her arms around the knight in a tight hug.

Emma’s green eyes narrowed as she stayed in place, just tracking the man’s hands as he returned the hug.

“Snow.” The knight offered a warm smile as Mary Margaret stepped back. “It gladdens this knight’s heart to see you safe.”

Emma’s jaw ticked, eyes narrowing further as her internal lie detector — the only piece of maybe-magic she actually trusted — immediately snagged on something. 

What it was, she couldn’t really say though.

The man’s voice was a resonant baritone, cultured and perfectly paced, and nothing in it was a lie exactly but it was too… too perfect. He sounded exactly like a man playing the role of a noble knight in a play, something missing for a person who actually lived in the dirt.

Maybe I’m just being weird. Emma let out a slow sigh. 

After all, it was Lancelot’s sudden appearance that had saved them from the dungeon pit they’d been locked in. Being down there had been almost as bad as being tied up the whole trip here, but being down there with Cora was a shock. 

The fact that Regina actually had a mother and hadn’t hatched from an egg was something else Emma was still dealing with. Before she could get over that, Lancelot had walked in, the knight absolutely dripping with honor.

These women have suffered the unimaginable, he had declared to the camp as he set them free from the jail. They are not our enemies. We will help them find their way home.

Mary Margaret had trusted him immediately, and rushed to tell him a plan she’d only shared with Emma so far. She had suggested her old ruined castle, mentioning the Magic Wardrobe that had sent Emma away from the Enchanted Forest as a baby, saying that it probably had enough residual magic left to function as a portal. 

Lancelot had agreed instantly, encouraging the quest and Mulan and Aurora had reluctantly agreed to escort them.

That was just two days ago, and now, Emma couldn’t keep from staring at the knight as he discussed the state of their rations with Mary Margaret. What is it with that guy?

Mary Margaret turned away from Lancelot and made her way back to the table, picking up the curved wooden bow and a quiver of arrows to go with it. Looking over, she offered Emma a small smile. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing.” Emma looked away, pretending like she knew anything about balance as she held up a hunting knife. “So, uhh… Should I call you Snow White, or Mary Margaret?”

The older woman — barely older — fidgeted with the leather strap of the quiver as her voice wavered slightly. “Well, Emma, I know it’s a little bit awkward.”

Emma fought to keep her face under control at the understatement of the century. “…maybe just a little, yeah.”

“Mmmm.” Mary Margaret nodded. “Why don’t you call me whatever it is you feel comfortable with?”

Emma traced the edge of the knife with her thumb, her focus more on looking away from Mary Margaret than not cutting herself. “And what are you comfortable with?”

“Well, I…” The dark-haired woman took a step closer, voice dropping low to a whisper that was more hopeful than Emma was at all ready for. “I wouldn’t mind it if you called me… Mom.”

Whoa. Emma blinked as she took a full step back before she could stop herself, the woman putting distance between her and her mother before the weight of the request could crush her lungs. “Uh, yeah. Talk about awkward.”

The hurt flashed across Mary Margaret’s face for all of a second, but it was gone before Emma could even blink. “I know, don’t worry about it.”

Shit. Emma hated herself, but the sarcasm was as much a part of her as her hair color. She just couldn’t do what Mary Margaret wanted; playing house after twenty-eight years of empty birthdays was just too fast and too close. 

“The journey to the castle will test you all.” Lancelot moved over to their side of the table, Mulan and Aurora flanking him. “These woods are no longer the ones you remember, Snow White.”

Emma dropped the hunting knife back onto the table. “Yeah, you guys mentioned the forest ogres and the trolls and bandits and a couple other monsters, but what else we gotta worry about now?”

Lancelot’s brow furrowed. “The Red Death.”

“The Violet Shade,” Mulan’s dark eyes flicked toward the knight as she pushed forward her own answer. “We can’t forget that either.”

“Details.” Mary Margaret gripped her bow. “We need details.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a briefing either.” Emma crossed her arms over her chest as one eyebrow went high, Aurora walking past her to pick up the knife she just placed down. “What are these fancy names for?”

“The Red Death is a new terror.” Lancelot brought his hands together, fingers clasped over each other. “A monster roaming the deep woods. A beast of no name and description other than great strength, agility, and the hellish flame it wields. Our scouts have found ogre encampments completely torn apart in the night. Battle and War Ogres broken and burnt to char.”

“Broken?” Mary Margaret blinked. “What could break an ogre?”

Lancelot shook his head. “Unless we speak of some young drake or some variant of a bandersnatch.”

Okay, enough fantasy words. Emma looked at Mulan. “And this Violet Ghost?”

“Shade. Wreathed in a purple smoke.” Mulan lifted her chin as she corrected Emma. “Again, no sightings of its true form, but from what is spoken, I believe it to be a dark fairy, or a witch casting illusions across the valley as she steals from caravans. Any who stay to fight the illusions is killed.”

“Well. Great.” Emma let out a short breath, a laugh with no humor. “Love your local wildlife. And here’s me without my gun.”

“Is this what you mean?”

Emma blinked over at Mulan as the other woman reached under the table and pulled a heavy leather bundle from a satchel. She tossed it onto the wood, the flap falling open to show the familiar black of Emma’s service Glock.

Emma snatched the gun up immediately, checking the magazine and racking the slide with practiced comfort. At least I still have you.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

“We will set up camp here.” A half day of travel and Mulan dropped a bundle of dry kindling in the center of a small clearing. Night had fallen fast and hard, the oversized trees of the Enchanted Forest blocking a good chunk of the stars above.

“Why are we making a fire?” Emma leaned against the rough bark of an oak, gun holstered at her hip as she asked the burning question. “Isn’t that gonna paint a giant target on our backs for the ogres?”

“Ogres are practically blind, Emma.” Mary Margaret knelt in the dirt as she answered, arranging stones around the kindling for some reason. “They hunt almost entirely by sound, so a fire won’t do anything more to draw them than our scent.” 

The princess looked up, short dark hair catching the barely-there starlight. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

Am I okay? Emma’s jaw tightened as she fought the immediate answer forcing its way up her throat. That’s a question. Other than the fact that she was standing in a magical forest with a gun that had limited bullets, and potentially surrounded by man-eating monsters? Yeah, sure, she was perfectly fine.

But it wasn’t even about her.

It hadn’t been about just her for a while now, not when she had Henry.

The thought of her son sitting by himself in Storybrooke with only Regina, waiting for her his whole life, when shemight never figure out how to get back to him… 

She looked back at the same woman that asked her the question, the only woman who could possibly know what she was feeling. “I’m fine.”

Mary Margaret offered a soft look, her face knowing and kind in a way that made Emma want to bolt. “How about you guard the clearing? I’ll call you back over when I finish the fire.” 

Emma didn’t argue.

Emma turned her back to the camp, walking to the edge of the tree line as her thumb traced the textured grip of her pistol. Henry. She just needed to get back to Henry. 

She may have been too late to be a daughter, but she still had plenty of time left in both their lives to be a mother. She just needed the universe to stop throwing fairy tale garbage in her path long enough to find a door home.

“No!!”

A sharp yell shattered Emma’s thoughts.

The former sheriff spun around, hand already on her pistol as her eyes went wide at the sight in front of her.

Aurora was on her knees beside the newly lit campfire, that same knife from before clutched in her hands as Mary Margaret grappled with her wrists, her back on the dirt as the knife fought its way toward her chest. 

What the…

Mulan was sprinting across the clearing, sword already drawn as she yelled something in a language Emma didn’t understand.

Emma yanked the Glock free and closed the distance as quickly as she could, struggling to keep up with Mulan’s pace. “The hell is going on?!”

Mulan grabbed Aurora by the shoulder, physically hauling the princess backward as she slid the sword back in its scabbard. “I am breaking up a fight.”

Emma looked at Mary Margaret, hand out to help her up. “That didn’t look like a fight.”

“This was no fight.” Taking Emma’s hand, Mary Margaret scrambled up from the dirt, jaw set as she glared back at Aurora with certainty that was all Snow White. “She attacked me out of nowhere.”

“As you deserve!” Aurora thrashed against Mulan’s grip, face. “This is all your fault!”

“Aurora…” The anger slid from Mary Margaret’s face as she stepped forward with both hands up. “I am sorry about Prince Phillip! I am sorry the wraith took him, bu-“

“Shut up!” Aurora screamed, tears spilling hot and fast down her cheeks as her shoulders shook. “It is more than just Phillip. Your war with Regina ruined all of the forest. It destroyed my home. Everything my people built is gone, and we are reduced to hiding in the dirt like animals because of you!”

“I didn’t cast the curse!” Mary Margaret stepped forward again.

“You started the war!”

The two women screamed at each other over the crackling fire, the noise echoing loud and sharp against the surrounding trees.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Emma pointed the Glock straight up into the dark canopy. The gunshot cracked through the clearing as she pulled the trigger, the noise instantly silencing both the screaming women.

 “Everybody shut up. Right now.” Emma lowered the smoking barrel, green eyes sweeping over all three of them. “You!” She pointed her free hand directly at Aurora, her voice dropping into a low, dangerous command. “Blame her all you want. Even if it makes zero sense. But sticking a knife in her chest isn’t going to fix your kingdom, and it won’t bring your prince back.”

Emma opened her mouth, ready to tear into all of them, but she didn’t get the chance as a loud bellow ripped through the night air.

Mulan’s dark eyes went completely wide as she let Aurora go. “No.”

Emma looked down at the smoking gun in her hand. “Oh no.”

A pine tree flew through the air, crashing into the canopy above them in a shower of splintered wood and pinecones. Heavy thuds marched rapidly toward the clearing, and the tree line parted  as another guttural roar tore through the night.

Twelve feet of bulging green muscle broke into the firelight, Emma’s mouth falling open as she stared at a milky-eyed monster staring blindly into the camp, an iron-bound tree trunk clutched in its fist. 

“A Battle Ogre.” Mulan’s voice came with the sound of her sword rasping free from the scabbard.

Emma raised her gun, training it on the thing’s chest. “Is that worse?”

“Significantly.” 

“Run!” Mary Margaret was already pulling an arrow from her quiver as she screamed, knocking it to her bow in one fluid motion. She fired, the shaft burying itself deep into the monster’s thick shoulder.

It did all of nothing, the ogre not even flinching as it roared again and charged.

The four women scattered. Emma sprinted toward the dense brush, her boots slipping on the slick pine needles. She looked back over her shoulder, trying to track the monster’s path.

She regretted that immediately as she pitched forward, hitting the dirt in a hard fall. Breath let her lungs in a wheeze as she rolled onto her back, the gun scattering from her grip. Fuck! The ogre was already turning, ears twitching toward the sound of her fall.

Before she could scramble away, the ogre was already on her.

The monster raised its tree trunk weapon high over its head, Emma flinching back as the thing prepared to crush her into a smear on the forest floor.

A bright red blur dropped out of the canopy.

Kindle Kyaku.

延長術式・燎蹴

Bold block characters — English overlapping with something else — suspended themselves across Emma’s vision in bright red for a single heartbeat as the world seemed to freeze; the words framing the figure currently driving a heel kick down into the ogre’s skull.

That same figure’s foot was wreathed in roaring red-orange flame.

The world breathed again with another heartbeat and the fire exploded at the exact moment of impact. The ogre didn’t even have the chance to scream, as its entire skull was instantly engulfed in a blinding inferno.

Emma scrambled backward through the dirt, hands up to shield her face from the blistering heat. “What th-!”

The words died in her throat — and her brain — as the figure dropped lightly to the ground, already shaking his right leg to get the fire off like a man who’d just stepped in a puddle. “C’mon, get off already.”

The ground shook as the headless, smoking corpse of the giant ogre toppled backward, skin sloughing wetly off its ruined neck as its open skull smoked in the open air. Jesus… The smell of burnt flesh forced a sharp spike of bile up the back of Emma’s throat, everything about what just happened gag-inducing.

She covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve, looking up through the smoke at the figure turning toward her.

A cropped jacket — brighter and redder than Emma’s own — stared back at her, the collar lined with thick black fur. The young man wore absolutely no shirt underneath, displaying a lean row of abs you could grate a block of cheese on. He wore tight black pants and armor-plated combat boots in the same red and black as his jacket.

But it was the head above the ridiculous jacket that made Emma’s jaw physically drop.

Bright blue eyes and a head of thick, messy red hair, significantly longer than her own.

The kid offered a lopsided, familiar smirk, the sarcasm practically dripping off the jagged edges of his voice.

“Hey there, Ems.”

Finn McHale stepped over the smoking corpse of the monster and held his scarred hand out to help her up from the dirt.

“How’s my favorite grumpy ol’ boss lady?”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Big Damn Knight – 200 GP

Save a princess with a dynamic entry.

ROLL: Family Tree (100) [DC Occult] {Lore}:

​It can be hard, sometimes, to track down ancestors when one side of the family can live for centuries, but now it’s just a little bit easier. With a drop of blood on this large scroll the names of your ancestors will be filled in – provided their identity isn’t being supernaturally concealed. This only provides the name they would be most commonly known by, which may unfortunately be a title for some beings, but hey – it’s a start.

Grimoire Points: 1000