The betrayal scalds her skin, the hate coming off of her in waves as she observes the three men looking at Percival, aghast. But it is only Percival, sprawled upon the ground like the rat he is, that looks at her, a mixture of fear and caution.

"Who cares who he is; the man must die," Emma growls, stepping forward to attack him with her bare hands if necessary.

"No!" Henry holds up the dagger again, drawing Emma's attention. He turns and faces her. "No, Dark One, I forbid you from causing direct or indirect harm to this man."

It's another burn to her chest, the way Henry holds up the only thing that can stop her and uses it so masterfully to bind her. Somewhere inside of her, she cheers. Thank you Henry. But a louder voice growls and a monster curls up around her gut, waiting for the opportunity to strike again.

Killian looks pissed as hell too, stepping closer to the prone man. He doesn't offer to help him up and he looks like maybe he wants to kill Percival instead. "What were the names of your sons? The ones that were killed by a pirate?"

"Liam and Killian. They were sailors. Liam was the Captain and his ship was captured by pirates—all hands were lost. At least, that's what I was told when I was looking for them."

Killian turns away from the man with a sigh, fingers rubbing his temples as though he were the one with voices in his head. David steps closer to the two dark-haired men. "I thought your brother died after your mission to Neverland?"

"Aye." Killian grunts out the word and keeps his body turned from the party. "He died and I became a pirate and the King lied about it all to cover it up." He finally looks down at Percival again, jaw set. "Officially, Liam and I both died that day."

David leans forward to help the knight up and when Percival crosses to Killian, they are the same exact height, two men with messy black hair and piercing blue eyes. A sliver of her heart freezes over at the sight of Killian, the man with no family and a mysterious past, standing beside someone who looks as though Killian is a miracle.

"Killian." Percival smiles and reaches out a hand to place on Killian's shoulder. It is brushed away instantly and the knight's face falls. "I'm sorry son, I would have searched all the realms if I had known you were still alive."

"You would have bloody well known I was alive if you hadn't abandoned us! If you hadn't disappeared on a quest and never came back!"

"I—I did come back."

"Not in time. Not before Mother died of a broken heart and Liam was determined to prove himself a hero, the damn fool getting himself killed in the process!"

Percival reels back as if he has been struck and Emma's palm stings with the desire to do the striking. "Do you think I wanted to leave? Do you think I had a choice? The Dark One was searching for me and for the Grail. I had stayed in one place for too long and he was close to finding me—to finding my family. I thought that if I came back when the two of you were older, you would be able to help me finish the quest and I would finally be done." His voice breaks a little. "I- I hoped to die happy with Blanche."

The man's eyes return to Emma and though Donnie wants to wrap her fingers around his throat and choke the life out of him, Emma can feel his son's lips upon her forehead again, the echo of his kisses cool and soothing. "You love this woman, son? The Dark One? Then perhaps you know what it is like to fall in love when you shouldn't—to abandon good form and your quest."

Killian steps between Emma and Percival, trembling hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "You know nothing of Emma and nothing of love."

Percival lowers his gaze and clenches his jaw. "No, I suppose I do not. Not anymore. I have been alone for too long without anyone by my side, too lost in my mission, living long after I should have died." He removes his gauntlets, placing them gently on the ground, and slides a heavy ruby from his finger. After a moment of contemplation, he holds it out for Killian. "Take it, son. I am no longer worthy to carry the Grail."

"Wait, that's the Grail?" Henry's incredulity breaks some of the tension and Percival smiles involuntarily, a flash of teeth that reminds Emma keenly of quiet morning coffee dates at Granny's.

"Yes, boy. This is the Grail—a piece of it, at least. I gave the other two to my sons before I left with the hopes that one day we could finally accomplish the quest Merlin sent me on so many years before. The wizard gave me this stone, forged from fairy dust long ago. Before he sent me into battle, to find the Darkness and defeat it, he imbued the stone with his own power and his own blood. But I was too late, and Mordred wounded his father beyond healing and created a portal to another world. Before sending me after him again, Merlin split the stone into three pieces. He told me that another realm would be too far for his magic to stretch. I was charged to find two other Knights to help me defeat the Darkness. The Darkness can only be driven out by the purest emotions: faith, hope," he lifts the ring toward Killian again, "and love."

Killian is focused on the two jewels on his right hand, examining the deep red stones. "So all this time I was carrying the Grail?"

"Yes. It took me a long time to realize that it holds protective powers. You will never reach old age and swords and spells seem to just miss you. I had hoped—" he bites his lip and his hand is shaking as he continues to hold it out, "—I had hoped it would watch over my boys."

Killian looks at the knight - old as dirt, just like him, but looking barely a day over 35 - and his gaze is steady and assessing. He is making some kind of decision, one about forgiveness and accepting the abandonment that can come along when your parents are heroes trying to make the world a better place. Emma knows a thing or two about that decision. Finally, Killian bites his lip and ducks his head and sighs. He steps forward and grasps the ring, and then he is grasping Percival, and then they are clutching one another, twin dark heads pressed together and Killian whispering "Father" against the other man's shoulder.

"So how come you never told us your dad was Percival?"

They break apart with identical smiles and the knight addresses Henry. "That was because he never knew. I went by an alias so the Dark One would not find me. When I met Blanche, I called myself David Jones. Although there were days I was concerned my hubris had gotten the better of me after providing Liam with his middle name."

Killian grins. "I just thought you named him after the legendary knight."

David seems delighted by all of the family bonding going around and he steps forward to shake Percival's hand. "Well, my name is really David," he says with a grin, "but I know a thing or two about going by an alias. I'm Emma's father."

The knight takes the presence of another parent the same age as his grown child all in stride. Damn, what a strange life Emma has. Percival nods at David and then his eyes turn to Emma and Henry. "Killian, do I have a grandson?"

David gets a wary look in his eyes that reminds Emma of some of those times Gold started to dote on Henry. "Er, no," Killian replies, the tips of his ears turning pink. "Henry is Emma's lad."

"The twit is hardly the descendent of a knight, you fool. But then again, you were never worthy of the title Arthur gave to every pauper and village idiot who wandered into Camelot."

"And your Emma is the Dark One."

Killian, the weakling, looks apologetic. "Only recently. The Darkness was cast out the former Dark One and Emma took on the mantle herself."

"She is the strongest Dark One in centuries, Percival. She shall not be undone by the likes of you."

"You are right, Dark One. She shall not." Percival rests his hand on Killian's shoulder. "She shall be undone by my son."

"What do we do?" David reaches for his blade, but the knight stops him.

"You are the three virtuous knights I have searched for all these years. It is only through your faith," his eyes fall on Henry, "hope," they return to David, "and love," they rest on Killian, his blue gaze kind, "that the Darkness can be cast out. You must all three take up pieces of the Grail and focus your virtue on the woman you knew. This can only be attempted once. If you are not the right knights, then my searching would have been in vain and the Grail will turn to ash."

Killian wriggles the two rings off of his fingers and, with his father's instruction, hands them to David and Henry. Emma is fighting against Donnie now: not to run, not to flee, not to zap out of here and figure out how to get away from whatever ceremony is going down.

"Focus on Emma and on your virtue!" Percival commands, his voice a boom. With a flash, light shoots out of the three rings and bands of red begin to form around Emma, hot as lava and cool as ice.

Emma feels like a scribble - like a cartoon drawing where a kid can't stay inside the lines. She's all jagged lines and uncontrollable anger. And hate. And fear. And darkness. So much damn darkness she's afraid she's going to zip into nothingness.

You are stronger than this, Dark One.

Resist it.

Resist their futile efforts to contain you.

She sees Henry. But not how he is now, with his long limbs and his peach fuzz. Its the Henry that showed up at her door a few years ago. Short. Round-faced. And he smiles up at her like she is the answer to all of his problems. He looks at her like she is worth more than her shitty apartment and her job chasing around scum.

And then his face fades and there is nothing.

Of course there is nothing, Dark One.

Forget about them.

They want you to be their Savior? To get them all out of each little problem?

Why?

They are weak. They need you but you do not need them.

You are better on your own.

More powerful on your own.

And she is. Emma really is. She can remember those days when she got out of prison, no men to knock her up, no kids to keep her from living the life she wanted. She was powerful.

She was free.

She could make whatever future she wanted the way she wanted it without anyone to give her stupid titles and talk about destiny and prophecy and faith.

Emma Swan used to be able to do what she wanted in the world.

And you can again.

Emma smiles to herself, feeling the warmth lap at her body like the bubbles of a jacuzzi. She sinks into it luxuriously.

Then there is another image. David. Dad. He is smiling at her from the driver's seat of the sheriff's vehicle while they're on patrol. Probably just made a joke about passing on the family legacy. About Saviors and destinies and crap. About heroes.

She smiles back and rests her head on his shoulder.

And then the image fades to Mary Margaret. Mom. The trembling smiles of the roommate who had become like family morph into the confident grins of the fabled fairy tale princess who straps a sword to her side and promises her daughter they will find a way back home again. Even though pessimism fills Emma's heart, Mary Margaret pulls her close and reminds her of Henry. Of David. Of the life they have back for them in Storybrooke.

A life of service to idiots and weaklings.

Do you know why your parents drove the darkness from you all those years ago? Before you were even born?

They did it to cripple you.

To keep you from making any choices of your own.

All they want is to contain you, Dark One. To put you in a box and pull you out when they need saving.

No more.

No more.

Emma remembers foster home after foster home. The way no one had expected anything of her. The way she could make her own rules and be her own person. The way Emma got to leave before she got left again.

A life of no future.

And no obligations.

The heat is dry on her skin now, like laying outside on the lawn on a hot summer's day, slathered in baby oil and trying to catch a tan. It sinks into her pores and she twists and turns so that her shoulders will brown as evenly as her stomach.

And then there is Killian.

Always, always Killian.

He smirks at her as he puts the leather cuff on her arm at the beanstalk. And he gives her a long, concerned look when he slips it off in the Dark One's Vault. He says "I love you" but she already knows it - she's known it for ages, ever since she blinked at him with recognition on the streets of New York City. He leans in close at the docks, praising her, obviously wanting to close the distance and kiss her. Then he does, outside of Granny's, promising her that he can survive no matter what.

Can he?

Ha!

They can never survive, Dark One. Not for long at least.

The mortals are weak. Pliable.

You bend them to your will and they snap like twigs.

Do not waste your time with love, Dark One. It is not worth it.

They never survive. Not for long.

You are more important than any of them.

Killian's eyes go blank as he crumples to the ground, her father's sword in his back. It is the other Killian but it doesn't make her any less scared. Walsh explodes in a pile of fur and wings. Neal's eyes slowly shut and it is like he drifts off. Graham collapses like a sack of potatoes, his weight heavy in her arms.

And each time another piece of her heart is sawed away. Another slice of her soul is destroyed.

Is this the price of living? Of loving? To lose yourself in other's and then to lose them too?

It isn't even worth it.

The heat that was so pleasant suddenly becomes abrasive. It scrapes and claws at her skin, tiny pinpricks across every surface, a web of thorns and needles. Even her throat feels raw but still Emma opens her mouth and screams - or at least she tries to. Maybe its futile. Maybe its too late.

Maybe she is already gone.

And then.

She is.

The first thing she realizes is that she is in the mud.

Emma is on her hands and knees again, fingers sopping wet and legs killing her.

"Mom!"

"Emma!"

"Swan!"

Several hands land on her back, her head, her shoulders, trying to pull her up, but her muscles are spent and she cannot help them, not at all.

"Did it work?" Henry's voice falters for the first time in weeks.

Emma sees it all again. The memories the three had given her as they tried to free her from the Darkness. And the memories that Donnie had countered with. The warmth that filled her body and then, right before she passed out, how she hadn't thought of hate or anger or fear. She had thought of sipping cocoa with Henry. Cooking dinner with her parents. Downing rum with Killian.

She had thought of goodness.

"Yes," she croaks out. "It worked."

Hands and arms place her on a soft patch of grass and she tentatively opens her eyes to some very, very concerned gazes. "I'm fine, guys," she manages, attempting a smile. "Donnie is gone." They all grin and she closes her eyes again, dead tired, and she can't manage to whisper the other thing missing.

Her magic.

The familiar and comforting hum is no longer there. Her body trembles a little, like a junkie going cold turkey, and when the pain of loss and the pain of the battle hit her bones, she blissfully passes out in an instant.

When she comes to again, she is on a soft, soft bed covered in a thick layer of blankets. She blinks and stirs and is stopped by a hand in her own.

"Emma?"

She opens her eyes and the sweet blue of Killian's gaze makes a smile come to her lips involuntarily. "Hey there, sailor," she whispers.

He grins. "Hello beautiful."

A portal appeared after she passed out, Killian explains, Merlin's magic to bring them back to Camelot. There, the wizard has taken the dagger, now containing the Darkness, and put it somewhere to be safely kept until he could destroy it. They've been letting her rest for a few days as she regains her strength. Camelot is recooperating. It will take a long time before they are as prosperous and able as they were in days of old, but as Merlin regains his strength, so too has the kingdom. But the wizard is spending much of his time tending to Arthur, whose mortal wound is proving difficult for Merlin to keep from killing him completely. He's been put in some kind of magical coma until a solution can be found.

"He has asked Per—my Father to be prepared for another quest." Killian tries to play it off cool, but from the way his ears turn pink and his chest puffs out, she can tell how proud he is that his bedtime stories all turned out to be true.

Emma convinces Killian to crawl under the covers with her and she cuddles in closer than she has in weeks. Embracing him is much better when the only voice in her head sounds like her and it murmurs words that fall from her lips moments later.

"I love you."

"Oh, Emma." He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and brushes his lips against hers. "I do love hearing those words when neither of us are in mortal peril." She laughs and kisses him back, harder.

"If not for you and Dad and Henry," she continues breathlessly, "I'd still be cursed."

His tongue is hot when it slides against her own and for the first time in weeks, the sensation sends a pleasant rush of heat throughout her body. "It was the right thing to do. You brought me back from the darkness when we met," he whispers.

So they're even. Or even enough. But Emma's not really keeping score anymore. Instead, she's struggling for breath as his lips trail across her jaw and down her throat and his body is so wonderfully warm and cozy pressed against hers under the covers.

They spend most of the afternoon sleeping and talking and kissing. Her energy is still too low to do anything more than simple caressing, even if the tightness in her gut is begging her to get a little frisky. As the sun starts its downward descent, Emma finds her head on Killian's chest and his arm holding her tight.

"Killian?" He grunts in acknowledgement, the exhalation of breath mussing the hairs on the top of her head. "What was that poem your dad used to recite? The one you and Belle have been using for clues? I know Donnie never liked it but," she squirms in closer, "I wanna know your bedtime story as a kid."

She senses more than feels the way he smiles against her golden hair. Killian adjusts his grip on her, presses a kiss to her curls, and his voice falls into an easy cadence that lulls her to sleep.

"In Camelot King Arthur ruled with chivalry and light.

To be noble, brave, and true the call of every knight.

One sought power and so he brought destruction unto all.

On Camlan's field the bold knights fought and Camelot did fall.

On Camelot rash Merlin cast enchantments o're the land

Each man locked in time and space awaiting his command.

The mighty wizard did not see the wolf was at the door.

Now imprisoned he awaits the knights from a far shore.

From Camelot fled Percival; seeking two to wield the Grail

Three required for this grand Quest or Camelot will fail.

He scours the realms but with each year his hope slowly wanes.

Cursed and deathless he endures whilst Camelot remains.

To Camelot three virtuous knights must haste to the crusade

The path is dim but with pure faith a light shall be their aid.

From a cold scabbard hope will ring arming all who fight.

When Darkness gathers they shall stand wielding love in light.

In Camelot brave Arthur lies upon a blood soaked field.

Whilst Merlin waits in crystal cave for champions revealed.

Endless Percival will seek for knights to bear the ring.

For through the Grail they will revive the Once and Future King."

And even though her Savior magic is gone, she can feel the Light in her bones when she drifts off in his arms.

Merlin comes to her room that evening and Killian excuses himself. Emma wonders if he's as intimidated by the wizard as she is. Remnants of Donnie maybe. But after napping all day, Emma's feeling restless, so she finds the strength to walk around the space, eat some food, and get a glimpse of Camelot out her balcony window. Emma thinks she detects a few wrinkles on his face that weren't there in the cave, but his eyes are just as creepy and just as orange.

"You are no longer the Savior," Merlin says after a moment, staring out the balcony window next to her. She shakes her head.

"You took on that mantle in part because of Isaac's meddling and in part because of the need for someone to break the curse. Through your actions, you have been restored, as it were. Who you are now is who you would have been without those influences."

"Ordinary."

He clucks his tongue at that one, and this time he shakes his head. Emma finally chances a look at him. "No, Emma Swan, I have never seen a version of your future in which you were ordinary. And the affinity for magic may come more naturally for some, but it can be learnt by all. If you were willing to work hard and to study, I imagine you could regain the talent." Those eyes twinkle a bit and it looks much less creepy without a voice in her head. "In fact, I find myself in need of a new Apprentice."

Emma bites her lip and rests her elbows on the balcony railing, her chin in her hands and her imagination in the deep blue skies of Camelot.

"So what exactly would that entail?"

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Author's Note: Thanks for joining us on this journey! Hope you enjoyed our spec and that it helped pass the hiatus for you! If you enjoyed it let us know!