Tiny Disclaimer: Save for the quick Googling I did for some basic terminology, I know absolutely nothing about fencing. Please take what you see in this chapter with a grain of salt.
Author's Note: I just wanted to say once again that you guys are amazing. This is really the story you all wrote. I would have left it as a one-shot if you hadn't responded so well to the first chapter. Honestly, I had two other ending points all planned but you guys seemed to love the story so much that I just kept on writing to the point that this sucker is now a freakin' novella. ;) Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your lovely feedback. It means more to me than you'll ever know. I promised y'all an epic final chapter, and I hope I delivered! Let me know if I did. ;) Enjoy!

Recognize you need to break through,
I believe, I believe in you.

"Emma," the young voice whispered directly into her ear. "Emma, wake up."

As Emma groaned and turned over, she reached down to yank the comforter over her head. Her hand grasped nothing but air. That little sneak! He'd obviously learned from previous attempts to get her out of bed and pulled the covers out of her reach. She groaned again, this time in frustration. "Kid, what part of 'I want to sleep in' did you not understand?"

"You did sleep in," Henry informed her. She felt the mattress shift behind her and guessed he had climbed up onto the bed. The proximity of his voice when he spoke next confirmed her theory. "David said if you weren't up by nine, I could poke you."

She opened one eye to blearily check the time. The clock read 8:57. "It's not nine yet," she mumbled, her eye drifting shut.

"Close enough." She refused to move, keenly aware that she was being petulant. But David had said nine, and it wasn't nine.

Henry heaved a sigh as he bounced on his knees, causing the mattress to bounce with him. "Snow said she'd make us all Toaster Strudels for breakfast before your sword fighting lesson." His voice had started to verge on singsong. "Come on, Emma."

The mental image of Snow White making breakfast by dropping frozen pastries into a toaster made Emma smirk despite her annoyance. She grunted as she pushed herself into a sitting position. "All right, all right," she muttered, running a hand over her face. "You win. I'm up."

Grinning widely, Henry latched onto her hand and tugged her off the bed. "Great! Now we can eat breakfast and then after that, we get to go sword fighting!"

"What's this 'we' stuff?" Emma asked. The hand not trapped by Henry's grabbed onto the railing as her son half-dragged her down the stairs. "You're watching this exercise, Henry. Watching, remember?"

"Yeah, but I still get to watch you and David play with swords," he replied giddily. He released Emma's hand and jumped down the last step. He skidded to a stop at the kitchen table, where a glass of milk for him and a mug of coffee for Emma already lay waiting. "It's going to be so cool!"

Emma shook her head at her son's enthusiasm before easing into her place at the table and exchanging good mornings with her parents.

"I see you managed to get her up gently this morning," David said to Henry, ruffling the boy's hair. He sat down in the chair across from Emma and winked at her.

"Uh huh." Henry took a sip of milk. As he set the glass back down, he glanced at Emma out of the corner of his eye. Then, putting up a hand to shield his mouth from Emma's view, he turned to his grandfather and stage-whispered, "I'm lulling her into a false sense of security."

"Hey!" Emma cried, giving the kid's shoulder a light shove.

"Well, I can't jump on the bed to wake you up too many times in a row," he informed her with mock seriousness. "It works best when you're not expecting it."

David leaned forward in his chair, stage-whispering to his grandson, "If she's asleep, how can she expect it at all?"

Henry's eyes widened and a sly grin formed on his lips. Emma groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Thanks so much for that, David," she whined, her voice muffled.

"You're quite welcome," David chuckled.

Snow laughed as she approached the table with four small plates, two in each hand, a Toaster Strudel on each. Emma noted with amusement that Snow had already drizzled the icing on three of them but had left the packet sitting on the plain one. When Snow set the icing-less pastry in front of Henry, Emma grinned at her.

"This is already one of my favorite breakfasts ever," Henry said as he ripped open the packet. He squeezed a fat blob of icing onto the pastry and used his finger to spread it out.

"That sweet tooth of yours will be the death of me," Snow sighed, shaking her head as she sat down across from her grandson.

Emma watched as Snow bit into her own Toaster Strudel. Her mother's eyes lit up and a smile made its way across her lips. "Pretty good, huh?" Emma asked with an amused smirk.

"These things do taste good," Snow replied once she'd swallowed. "Not the healthiest of breakfasts, unfortunately, but I can see why you wanted Henry to try them."

"So …" Henry asked around a small bite of his Toaster Strudel. "We can add them to the grocery list, right? They can go right below the Lucky Charms!" Emma hid a smile behind her own pastry when Henry popped the packet into his mouth and sucked the leftover icing from it. Truth be told, she still did that herself on occasion.

Snow met her husband's eyes. He gave her a small shrug.

Emma watched the silent back-and-forth and wondered how in the hell they could communicate so well with simple gestures and facial expressions. Eventually, Snow gave a sigh. "Yes, I guess we can add them to the grocery list."

"Yes!" Henry grinned.

Emma sent Snow a grateful look. Snow just gave a slight roll of her eyes, but she couldn't hide the indulgent smile on her face.

"Whoa!" Henry suddenly exclaimed, his eyes wide. "I just thought of something!"

"What?" Emma asked, raising her eyebrows at the pure glee on the kid's face.

"If your dad is Prince Charming, that makes you a princess. And if my mom is a princess, that means I'm a prince. Emma, we're royalty!"

Oh, no. Emma couldn't really be a princess. Like, an actual fairy-tale princess. Could she?

She looked to her parents and willed them to tell her that she was not at all a princess. David simply grinned at her. Snow at least had the decency to give her an apologetic smile as she nodded.

Emma groaned, placing her head in her hands. She was a flippin' princess. Wonderful. "I hope this doesn't mean I have to wear floofy dresses or a tiara or anything like that. Because that is so not happening."

Emma plodded through the woods after her family on their way to the site David had picked for their sword fighting lesson. Henry marched in front of Emma but behind his grandparents on Emma's command. He had initially rolled his eyes at the seeming overprotection but when she asked him – rather shortly, she recalled with a cringe – to please just do it, he seemed to understand that the instruction was coming from a place of concern.

They emerged from the trees in a small clearing. David shifted the weight of the long bag he'd been carrying through the woods on his shoulder as he turned to Emma. "This space is big enough to give us some room but still small enough to contain our movements." He nodded towards a couple of flat rocks at the edge of the clearing and winked at his daughter. "It also has front-row seats for the peanut gallery."

"Sounds perfect," Emma said, then winced when she heard how tense she sounded.

David smiled reassuringly as he shrugged the bag off his shoulder. Snow and Henry went to make themselves as comfortable as possible on the rocks, and David dug two sheathed swords out of the bag. He handed one to Emma.

She had flashbacks to the elevator as she pulled the sword from the scabbard and stared at it with a mixture of wonder and a tiny bit of uncertainty. Oh, whoa, wait a second. This sword was real! "Where did you get these?" she asked her father. Considering the distinct lack of a swordsmith and forge in Storybrooke, she'd assumed that they'd have to conduct their lessons with sword substitutes.

"I have my sources," David grinned, clearly relishing the mystery. "The blades on these swords aren't honed, so they won't cut. They are still weapons, however, so injury is a very real possibility. We'll take it slow and only move forward when you feel comfortable."

"Aren't there, um, you know, practice weapons?" Emma asked nervously.

"None that I could get to in time." David gave her another reassuring smile. "Besides, practice weapons don't have quite the same feel as the real thing. If you're ready, we can start working on stance."

Emma nodded her assent, and they set to work. He showed her some basic stances for both offensive and defensive moves. She stood beside him and, watching him out of the corner of her eye, copied his motions. After the third time he told her to spread her feet to shoulder-width apart, she testily asked why it mattered.

He spun around and swung his blade down hard on hers. Crying out in surprise, Emma dropped the sword. It clanged against something on the ground, a rock, probably. "That's why it matters," he told her with a grin.

"Point taken," Emma grumbled, snatching her sword up from the forest floor. She carefully brushed the dirt off the blade and assumed her previous position, this time spreading out her feet.

They practiced stance until Emma was able to do them as he called them out without having to watch him. Then he had her face him and they ran through them another couple of times so she could see what they would look like in a fight situation. "Good. If you're comfortable, we can move on to some basic thrusts and parries."

Emma raised her eyebrows. David must have read a little bit of confusion into her expression because he gave her an amused smile and said, "Hits and blocks."

"Okay," Emma said, letting out a shaky breath. "Can we do blocks first?" When he nodded at her, she repositioned herself into a defensive stance and held the sword like he'd showed her. Her palms were sweating and she tried to calm herself down. Stances were one thing; actually clanging swords with someone was another thing entirely.

"You need to relax, Emma," he told her gently.

"I am relaxed," she replied, although it was quite clear that she was not relaxed in the slightest.

David shot her a look but continued the lesson without another comment. He showed her a couple of parries, slowly bringing his blade down on hers to check her positioning. "You're doing great," he said with a smile. "Ready to try it sort of for real?"

"'Sort of?'"

"Well, I'm not really going to be coming at you as if I was trying to hurt you."

"Oh. Right." Emma gave him a tight smile and squared her shoulders. "Ready when you are."

"Okay, on the count of three. One … two … three."

He swung his sword at hers. She successfully completed the parry but the force of the thrust surprised her. Once again, she dropped the sword, only this time it was because her wrist had turned under the pressure of David' swing. "Shit!"

David immediately sheathed his sword and ran over to her. "Are you okay?" He grabbed her arm to inspect her injured wrist.

"I'm fine," she answered, pulling out of his grip. "I guess I wasn't as ready for that as I thought."

"What happened?" When she explained what made her drop the sword, he smiled gently at her. "That's why I told you to relax. When you take a hit, the shockwave goes down the blade and into your arms. If your muscles are too lax, you'll drop the weapon, but if they're too tense, they can't absorb the shock of the hit and you risk injury."

Emma nodded. Kind of like recoil when firing a gun. She turned her wrist gently to test it out; it seemed to be no worse for the wear. "It's okay now."

"All right. You want to keep going?"

"Yes, please."

David showed her a couple more parries. It took Emma a try or two to find the sweet spot between keeping her muscles too relaxed and keeping them too tense. David gave her a proud nod when he noted that the hits were no longer forcing her arms out of position.

When he started walking her through some thrusts, Snow leaped up from her seat on the rock and walked forward to correct the position of Emma's hands on the grip. "Keep them a little more separated," she told her. "You're doing the hitting this time, but there's still a shockwave. You don't want to injure your wrist further."

Emma looked at Snow with raised eyebrows. Snow grinned innocently at her daughter. "What? You think I know nothing about swordplay?"

"Okay, then," Emma said with a shake of her head. She watched in what could only be described as shock as Snow took the sword from her and showed her where to put her hands on the grip. Then she held the sword out to Emma.

Emma took back the weapon and placed her hands where Snow had indicated. "Much better," Snow said to her daughter.

Despite her surprise, Emma's heart swelled. Then she groaned inwardly. Was that … pride and accomplishment? It was, wasn't it? Crap. Once again, this family thing was making her so very soft.

Her inner musings were cut short when she heard Henry cry out in surprise. All three of them turned in the direction of his voice, and Emma's heart leaped into her throat.

Henry was no longer sitting on the rock but standing next to it. Regina stood behind him, her arm across his chest. Her grip was clearly stronger than it looked because Henry's struggling had no effect. "You really should keep a better eye on the boy, Ms. Swan," Regina said, a sneer on her lips.

As if Regina had any room to talk. How many times had Henry snuck off on her watch? That, however, was an argument for another time. "Let him go, Regina," Emma commanded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw David subtly shift position. Offensive stance, she noted.

No, she didn't want him to attack. Not when Regina had Henry and not when they didn't know what she could do. She'd obviously arrived at their spot in the woods through magical means because they would have heard her otherwise. Emma didn't want her disappearing with Henry in her arms. She shifted her body into a defensive position and silently willed David to follow her lead.

"You seem to be forgetting that Henry is my son," Regina replied. She tightened her arm around the boy's chest, causing Henry to struggle harder. "I'm simply taking back what's mine."

"You're not going anywhere with that kid," Emma shot back.

"And what do you plan on doing to stop me, dear?" Regina asked, her eyes glittering in amusement.

All of a sudden, Emma realized that, just as she'd feared, Regina thought things were the same as before. She still thought Emma was two steps behind her. Anger coursed through Emma's veins, and before anyone could stop her – before Emma herself even realized what she was doing – she dashed forward and rested the tip of the sword against the base of Regina's throat. "Let him go."

Sudden fear flashed into Regina's eyes as she glanced down at the cold metal blade lying against her skin. Then she smirked, looking up at Emma in amusement. "I don't know what you're expecting to prove with this, dear. That blade's not sharpened. It can't kill me."

"No, but it'll still hurt like a bitch." Emma's voice was even, controlled, and betrayed none of the absolute terror she was feeling. "Let. Him. Go."

In response, Regina once again tightened her grip. Henry cried out in pain.

Frantically, Emma caught Henry's eye. Though he was trying his best to hide it, the poor kid was terrified. Emma held his gaze, slightly bent her knees, and sent a silent prayer that he would figure out what she was trying to tell him. It was a self-defense move she'd once learned in a school assembly. In a struggle against someone gripping the upper body, the easiest way to attempt escape was to crouch down and scoot under the person's arm rather than pushing forward.

Henry went still for a split second. His eyes registered comprehension and then he gave Emma a slight nod. Confident that he knew what she wanted him to do, Emma held her free hand behind her to stop her parents' advance and returned her attention to Regina. "I'm giving you to the count of three to let him go, Regina."

"And what if I don't?" Regina asked, clearly enjoying the verbal sparring. "What, pray tell, are you planning on doing to me? Because I do wish you'd get on with it, Ms. Swan. This grandstanding is becoming a bit tedious."

Emma once again glanced down at Henry. He nodded, this time signaling that he was ready. Emma gave a slight nod in return before exerting a little pressure on the sword. Fear flickered into Regina's eyes for a second time. "I could say the same to you, Your Majesty. How come you haven't turned me into a toad by now? After all, you have magic again. My guess is that you can't. You're the one who told me that magic here is unpredictable. It doesn't work the way you expected, does it?"

As Emma was talking, Regina's grip around Henry had loosened. Not a lot but just enough to make the escape possible. Emma shifted her feet, knowing that after watching her and David do stances all morning, Henry would understand. In one swift motion, he bent his knees and ducked out of Regina's grasp. Then he ran as fast as he could towards Snow, who wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

Regina took a half-step forward but Emma refused to yield. She remained in place, the sword still pointed at Regina's throat. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Emma told her.

"He's my son," Regina insisted, utter fury lighting her eyes.

"But I don't want to go with you!" Henry cried. He broke free from Snow's embrace and stood next to Emma, facing his adoptive mother.

Emma brought the sword back slightly as she inched forward in an effort to keep Henry behind her. The boy rested a hand on her arm and squeezed. Something about the gesture made her shift back into defensive position.

"I don't want to go with you," Henry repeated more softly. "I'm happy with Emma and my family."

When Regina flicked her gaze to their son, Emma was surprised to see real pain in the woman's eyes. "You used to be happy with me."

Henry opened his mouth and then closed it, as if reconsidering what he wanted to say. He swallowed hard and took one step closer to Regina. "I know but that was a long time ago. At the hospital, you said you love me. If you really love me, you'll let me stay with Emma. It's what I want."

A hurt look crossed Regina's face but after a beat, she pulled herself together. Her eyes glittered in anger as she addressed Emma. "I don't know what you've done to poison him against me, Ms. Swan, but this is not over." Before Emma could even open her mouth to argue, Regina was gone in a puff of dark purple smoke.

Emma let out a heavy breath as she lowered the sword. The muscles in her arms were screaming from having to hold the weapon steady for so long. "Are you okay?" she asked, turning to Henry.

Henry nodded, then dashed forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I don't want her to take me anywhere, Emma! Please don't let her take me."

"She won't, kid," Emma told him. The sword dropped from her hand, forgotten, as she held her son in a tight embrace. "I promise, she won't take you."

David and Snow ran up to mother and son, asking in unison if they were all right.

"Yeah," Emma murmured. "Yeah, we're okay."

"You handled that exceptionally well, Emma," David said, giving his daughter a proud smile. "Looks like you're a natural with the swordplay."

"That?" Emma asked, looking at him with a confused frown. "I didn't do anything and besides, the blade's not even sharp!"

"Sword fighting is just as much defense as it is offense," Snow told her. "You assessed the situation, determined what was needed, and found a way to let the other members of your party know what you'd decided, all while keeping a level head. So you want to tell me again how you didn't do anything?"

Okay, so maybe she had done a little something. The praise was making her rather uncomfortable, though. She looked down at the top of her son's head and realized she needed to give praise of her own. "You did great, too, kid," she said, pulling out of the hug. "How did you figure out what I wanted you to do?"

"I don't really know," Henry replied with a shrug. "I saw you bend your knees and then I looked into your eyes and just … knew."

Emma stared at her son in amazement. What had happened between them? Then she thought back to all the silent conversations she'd watched David and Snow conduct and wondered if she and Henry had just done the same thing. Never in her life had anyone known her well enough to hold a conversation with nothing but looks and body language, and the notion that someone now did thrilled her more than she really expected. When she pulled Henry into another hug, she surprised everyone, including herself.

"What was that for?" Henry asked in a bewildered tone when she let him go.

"Nothing," Emma said uncomfortably. "I'm just glad she didn't magic you away into a locked tower somewhere."

Everyone laughed but Snow caught Emma's eye and gave her a knowing smile. Emma quickly looked away once she knew Snow had figured out the real reason behind the second hug and picked her sword up off the ground. "Before we were so rudely interrupted," she said to David, "I believe we were working on thrusts."

David nodded and unsheathed his own weapon, easily slipping back into teacher mode. Emma expected Snow and Henry to sit back on the rocks but a smile curled on her lips when she saw the two of them pick up fallen sticks to use as swords and pretend to fight each other.

As David walked her through some basic offensive maneuvers, Emma all of a sudden felt a sense of … not peace, exactly, but something … calm. So much was still up in the air, so much pain and heartache still remained to be dealt with, but for some reason, she now thought that maybe fine did still exist. And maybe it wasn't as far away as she'd believed.

Maybe she would be able to find her way to back to fine after all. Sometimes she would lead her family and sometimes they would lead her, but maybe they could get there. And maybe, just maybe, beyond fine lay the happiness and the belonging and the love she'd been searching for her entire life.