15SO!
Here's the thing. Like a complete idiot, I totally forgot to upload a bunch of my fics from the SQSN over onto here, so here we go!
Alright! So this has been an idea that's been ruminating in my mind for quite a while, and I'm super happy to have it finally finished!
I'm really happy with how it turned out, plenty of things changed since I began to write it, but I feel like it's a better story now.
As always, italics are past tense, and at the end it's a letter.
And a big shout-out and thank you to everyone who helped to make this fic amazing, particularly my two betas starrrynighhts and hermione, and my cheerleader swen_queen!
Lastly, achromacat did an amazing artwork for this fic that I just love to pieces, so be sure to check it out in the link above!
And of course, a big shout-out to the SQSN mods for being absolutely amazing with their planning and making sure everything was running smoothly!
Just as an FYI, there will be a couple of deaths, nothing graphic nor any of the main-main characters, but just as a heads up.
Please enjoy!
Chapter 1: A new storyteller - because Henry demanded it
And it was a terrible idea for all.
Emma remembered everything from that night.
The way the rain was softly hitting the window. The dimmed lights. How comfortable she was on the large black sofa. The way Regina smiled at her when little Henry begged her to please, please, please tell him a story. How she finally caved, opening the enormous storybook as Henry crawled onto her lap.
The little family was entranced as Emma began to read, listening as her voice wove an elaborate tale.
She described a fantastical world full of complex characters, from dashing knights to conniving imps, and scores of side characters ranging from dragons to werewolves that helped build the story. Henry was quite the attentive listener, cheering when the knights defended their land, and gasped spectacularly when the story got exciting with a crucial battle.
Just as the action reached its peak, Henry had grown quiet, raptly absorbing each word of the fight.
Outside, the storm was growing stronger.
Then there was a flash of lightning, and the love of Emma's life vanished.
Just like that.
Gone.
In her stead, sprawled on the carpet in front of Emma, there were two strangers.
Henry's screaming and crying began rousing the two strangers, and Emma tried to comfort her son, pulling him close, her mind whirling with unanswered questions.
She wanted to be strong for Henry, but she was feeling so sick to her stomach that it proved to be an impossible feat.
What in the world was happening?
She took a deep breath. She just had to stop for a moment and try to understand just what the hell was going on.
So she focused her attention on the two intruders, maybe they would shed some light on what was happening. But they offered no help to her.
The first to sit up was a man with long wild hair, sporting some weird dark green leather ensemble like he had just stepped out of a ren faire.
Beside him, a woman with long brown locks wearing a very large deep red cape was clutching her head and wincing hard.
They were both looking around in confusion. Then their eyes met in recognition, and their immediate hatred opened to chaos.
"You!" They chorused.
They scrambled up and moved into their own peculiar positions, the woman crouching low, and the man raising his arms and coiling his hands, staying that way for a few beats, as if expecting something to happen.
When nothing did, the man looked around in alarm, immediately rushing out the door and into the stormy night.
Once he was gone, the woman relaxed slightly. She turned to Emma and Henry, face unreadable, her curiosity the only thing keeping her from running away as well.
"Many apologies for intruding into your home. Can you tell me where I am?"
Six years.
Six long years ago. She replayed that moment so many times she felt that if she tried hard enough, she could go back to that moment and imagine it ending differently. The problem was not being able to stay there.
"Mom!"
Emma jolted and nearly spilled coffee all over herself.
Henry, no longer a little tyke, now on the verge of becoming a teenager, rolled his eyes with a practised ease. "You're worse than I am in the mornings."
"Keep talking smack kid, and you'll see what happens," Emma scoffed, sipping from her mug. "And sorry, what were you saying?"
"I said that I might be coming home a bit later today, I have to work with Trevor on a project and we're going to his house, if that's okay."
Emma nodded. "Yep, as long as there's no booze, drugs, or girls-"
"Mom!" Henry groaned, scandalized.
"Or boys if that is your thing, then you can totally meet Trevor for his project," Emma continued, flashing a triumphant grin.
Henry let out another groan, and slid off his chair to get ready for school. "You are the worst," he commented as he walked out of the dining room.
"Says the kid who has the coolest mom ever!" she called back.
She got no response for it, but that didn't bother her the least. She knew Henry loved her.
A few hours later, she was in her office working away. Technically she was still at home, but it was in an area of the house reserved for Emma's work - a gift from Regina when she had bought them their house.
Emma felt a pang of sadness when she thought about her wife.
As she did whenever her thoughts drifted to Regina, she began to twist the wedding ring on her finger. So many years and not even an inkling of an idea as to what had happened.
Well, there was an idea. An idea so ludicrous she had a really hard time believing it.
That night, after Emma had put Henry to sleep, telling him that Regina had had to leave for a meeting suddenly, and that she would be back soon, she had sat down with the woman who had materialized in her living room floor.
"I want answers. Starting with: Where is my wife, and how did you get here?" Emma demanded as she plopped down on the couch. The couch where, not even two hours ago, Regina had been lounging on.
The woman shook her head. "I do not know the answer to either of those questions."
"Bullshit!" Emma seethed. The shock had worn off, and now she was angry, and she wanted answers. "I was reading to my kid, and suddenly, she's gone, and in her place I find you and your accomplice."
The woman shot up from her seat. "That imp is the farthest thing from my accomplice! For all I know he could be working for you!"
"Why the hell would I be working with him?" Emma retorted.
"How should I know?" the woman huffed. "But I repeat, I am in no way allied to him."
Emma blinked. "Then who is he?"
"I said what he is: an imp! A most deplorable creature."
"Seriously? That's the best you can come up with?" Emma deadpanned. "He looks like a normal man. Maybe stark-raving mad, but not an imp. Don't imps look all weird and disfigured?"
"I am not jesting! Neither should you take Rumpelstiltskin as lightly as you are," the woman resolutely responded.
At hearing the name, Emma did a double take. "You said his name was Rumpelstiltskin?"
The woman nodded.
"You're not lying?"
"I have no reason to lie to you."
Emma's mind was reeling. "And you are?"
"Red," the woman said, pointing to her cloak. "If the cape wasn't enough of an indicator."
But Emma wasn't paying attention to that. She grabbed the old book that had fallen in the commotion, and flipped the pages until she reached the one she had been reading.
"You were fighting him. You had caught him unaware, and you were on the verge of beating him, helping the good guys get their first victory in months," Emma said, scanning the page.
Red looked puzzled as she nodded. "How do you know that?"
Emma turned the book towards Red. "Because that's the book I was reading when all of this happened."
Red immediately grabbed the book and began to pore over it, flipping the pages as she scanned the passages. "My life is in a book?"
Emma honestly had no response to that and she just opened and closed her mouth pointlessly.
Red looked up at her and her eyes narrowed. "What is the meaning of this?"
Sensing that Red was beginning to sound distrustful, Emma held her hands up placatingly.
"Look, I have no idea about any of this. I was reading some stories to my kid, and then all of this happened," Emma finished by waving her hands around the room, as if that explained everything.
But Red seemed satisfied with that answer, as she went back to the book. "I see."
"You do?" Not that Emma wanted Red to be wary of her, but she wouldn't be convinced by her own story, she had a hard time believing the other woman was.
"Certainly. You're a silvertongue, clearly," Red said, poring over the book.
Emma blinked. "I'm a whatnow?"
Red looked up. "A silvertongue."
"Yeah that doesn't really clear anything up," Emma responded. "My tongue is pink."
With a slight smile, Red shook her head and leaned her elbows on the book. "It's not meant to be taken literally. Silvertongues are people with the extraordinary ability to read a text and make the words come to life. So for example, you read this book, and we came to life."
Emma had so many questions. But she just managed to dumbly say, "But I've been reading for all my life and never made anything come alive."
Maybe not so dumbly, going by Red's frown. "Never?"
"Never," Emma said with a shrug.
"So every time you've read aloud, all was normal?" Red asked.
At that Emma faltered. "Well, not out loud. I read quietly to myself."
"Why?"
Trying to remember that this woman came from a story set in a medieval world, Emma tried to explain it as best she could. "Basically people don't really read out loud much here. We just read quietly. And I never really had anyone to read to when I was a kid. Foster care and all that...not a lot of fun times. Now that I think about it, I never read out loud until Henry asked me to tonight. Regina always did it, she would do the voices much better than I ever could. But when I talk...I don't make anything happen."
Red nodded slowly. "Well, Silvertongues only make things come to life if they are written down."
Emma shook herself out of her stupor. "Anyway. If I am one of those silver tongued people-"
"Silvertongue," Red corrected.
"Right. Can't I just write something up and bring Regina back to me?" Emma theorized.
Red shook her head. "No, not unless you're the author of this book."
"I have to be a writer?" Emma asked.
"Not exactly. See, this world - my world - it exists because this author made it. For you to extract your wife from the book, and also return me to it, you need the author for that."
Emma groaned. "Perfect. I had to read the one book that doesn't have an author."
Red flipped to the front of the book. "It doesn't have an author?"
"Nope. And as far as I know, this is the only copy in existence."
"That's peculiar. Who gave it to you?" Red asked.
"Not a clue. It just showed up one day on the foster home's doorstep when I was five or six, with the note on the inside cover of the book saying, 'For Emma, so she remembers.'"
"Remember what?" was Red's next question.
"Believe me, I've asked myself all of these questions, never reached an answer."
"But there must be an answer. You have to find the author of the book if you hope to find your wife again."
Emma sighed. "This book looks so old though. What are the chances this wizened author is still even alive?
Red had to concede to that. The leather cover was quite old. "I suppose we'll just have to search really hard and as my good friend says: have hope."
"Clearly you're from a fairytale, 'cause that's corny as hell," Emma sighed. When Red didn't seem to understand a word that she had said, Emma added, "Look, this has been a long night for me, so I'm a little out of hope right now."
"Well don't worry. I'll be your hope."
Well hope went and drove off into the sunset four years ago, never to be heard from again.
Emma was half convinced that she imagined it all. An imp and a wolf-woman showing up one night out of nothing and making her wife disappear sounded like a wild idea. The only other witness she had to corroborate that she was indeed sane was her son, who didn't really remember anything from that night. Probably for the best, it would traumatize him otherwise.
A silvertongue, it sounded absurd. So she just resigned herself to a lonely existence with her son and her workshop.
She restored old books for a living, most of her clients were old with priceless family treasures and first editions that they wanted to gift to a newer generation with a fresh coat of paint, so to speak.
While Red had been around, she had asked if Emma was doing this also to see if she could find another copy of the infamous book. Emma had never really thought about it, but it would be the best way to find another of the old book tome barring scanning thousands of auction websites - which Emma did still do in her spare time.
But, considering that Red went off with her copy of the book, it really destroyed all her hopes of ever getting her wife back.