Chapter Text
The flight to Orynth is much the same as the flight to Tiercely. Elide, once again, flies with Manon, while Snow, her family, and Lorcan are crammed into the sack.
When they get to Orynth, Aelin is waiting for them, flanked by her court. She doesn't look disappointed or frustrated, and Snow lets herself hope that that is a good sign.
Lorcan apparently does, too. “Well?” he asks Aelin. “Do you know what Wyrdmarks are necessary?”
Aelin grins, looking as smug as a cat with a bowl of cream. “We do. We found a series of marks that should be enough to send you home,” she announces, looking at Snow.
Snow smiles in relief. Finally, finally, this might be over. They can get back to Storybrooke, back to baby Neal… “We will do anything we can to help, we just want to get home,” she assures them.
“Come on, follow me. I’ll show you the symbols and you can start practicing them.” Aelin whips around and starts striding away. Snow imagines it's the kind of move that looks badass with a cloak on, but since the queen's in what look like training leathers, there's no cloak to whip about.
Snow follows after Aelin, trailed by her family and Aelin's court. As they walk, Elide explains, “Wyrdmarks are very… delicate. You have to make the lines and angles exactly correct, and one mistake can change the meaning of the whole phrase, ruining everything." She pauses and adds, "Also, Wyrdmarks require magical blood to work. But don’t worry. Aelin and Rowan will talk you through it. Just be careful and deliberate, and you’ll be fine. Whoever ends up drawing the Wyrdmarks will probably practice with Aelin until she's satisfied."
When they catch up with Aelin, she is in the library, with quite a few thick, heavy, and ancient books strewn about the desk in front of her. She's opened one in particular and skims her finger along the page. When they come in, she taps the page twice, looks up, and says, "These should be what you need.”
“What do they say?” Emma asks, stepping closer to peer down at them.
“This one makes pockets, and this one stretches the effects of the others, and this one takes you home,” Aelin begins, tapping different spots on the page for each one. “There are a few others, too, that are mostly for traveling, or distance, or strengthening and expanding the effects of the others.”
Emma nods and traces her finger down the page. “Okay,” she sighs after a few moments. “What do you want us to do with them?”
“Well,” Aelin starts. “You're going to practice drawing the symbols we’ve established as the most useful, and then, when I'm convinced you won’t mess them up, you will…” she trails off and cocks her head. “I have an idea, but I’m not sure if it’ll work, since it isn’t the standard use for them. Can I see the wand?” she asks, looking at Regina.
Shrugging, Regina pulls the wand out from where she had tucked it in her coat. She holds it up silently, turning it at different angles for Aelin to examine. Snow notices idly that Regina doesn't offer it for Aelin to hold, and Aelin doesn't reach out for it.
“Normally, Wyrdmarks would be drawn on something in magical blood,” Aelin starts, sounding a little distant. "But I worry that just marking the wand with dried blood won’t be enough. If the symbols flake off, get smudged, or get washed away, they won’t work anymore. And trust me, you do not want to get stuck in the wrong world or in between worlds.” Aelin shudders, and a chill breeze seems to sweep through the room as Rowan reaches out to wrap a comforting arm around Aelin's waist. She leans into him a little and continues, "I think you could carve the Wyrdmarks into the wand, fill the carvings with your blood, and then seal them in place. That should keep them safe, at least until you get home.”
Snow nods. She knows this is more useful for her, Regina, Emma, and Henry than for David and Killian, but the two men seem to be following along well enough. Lack of interest in magic notwithstanding, they're both smart and dedicated. Snow has no doubt they'd decide to learn magic if it meant getting home.
Aelin continues, “We do ask that you destroy the wand when you get home. We hope the Wyrdmarks will get you to your world, though we won't know for sure until it's either succeeded or failed. If it does work, we can't guarantee that it won't work the other way. And we can't risk more people from another world coming here.”
Snow nods solemnly. “Of course. We do not belong here, in your world. We just wish to go home, where our family and friends are.”
Aelin nods slightly. “Well then,” she announces, smirking a bit. “Let’s start practicing.”
— — —
They end up spending the entire afternoon practicing the Wyrdmarks. Aelin copies them out a few times for Snow, Regina, Emma, and Henry to practice. Again and again and again and again and again. She keeps tapping their attempts and saying things like that angle's two degrees off or that line isn't quite long enough, but make sure in extending it you don't change the angle. Snow can tell Regina and Emma are almost ready to explode. Henry seems happy as a clam, and Snow wonders if his time as The Author is serving him well. His marks are also noticeably better than Snow's, Regina's, or Emma's.
Right as Emma and Regina have hit their limit, Aelin announces they'll break for dinner and come back another time. Over dinner, she announces that since Henry's are the best, she and Rowan will work to teach the necessary ones to him and get him to draw them perfectly.
When dinner is finished, Aelin, Henry, and Rowan disappear back into the study. After a few moments of sitting around and staring at each other blankly, Elide sighs and stands. “Aelin is likely to stay up late with Henry practicing until she thinks he can do them perfectly. I suggest you either go in to practice them, too, or go up to bed. There’s not a whole lot more we can do until the morning,” she says, spreading her hands somewhat helplessly.
“Do you know how the queen plans to get these symbols on the wand?” Emma asks, narrowing her eyes at Elide. “Whose blood will be used? How much? Who will carve them?”
“I would guess she’s preparing Henry to carve them. Does he have magic in his blood?” Elide responds.
“Uh…” Emma looks confused and glances at Snow and Regina. Snow shrugs back; she has no idea what 'magic in your blood' means. Though, if she had to lay bets on any of them fitting the bill, it would be Emma. Between the whole child of true love and the natural, untrained light magic she's displayed in the past, Emma seems the best candidate. “We don’t know what you mean," Emma tells Elide.
“The Wyrdmarks really only work if you write them in the blood of someone who has magic. So Fae, witches, and some humans can use them.”
“Can you?” Snow asks.
“I’m not sure,” Elide replies. “It’s possible. I have Ironteeth blood, which has natural magic properties in it, and my father’s line had magic at some point. There’s supposed to be a lot of magic in my blood.” She pauses and seems to realize she’s contradicted herself. “So, yes, I could use them, at least theoretically. But I can’t practically, because I don’t know or understand them.”
“I see,” Snow murmurs.
“Okay, so if you want magic naturally in our blood, you need Emma’s blood,” Regina declares, shifting her stance a little and straightening up. Snow smiles a little. It's good to see that she and Regina are mostly in sync about this.
“What? It’s your wand,” Emma shoots back, and Regina shrugs.
“Yes, it is my branch that I carved. But it already seems that this is a group effort. Henry is carving the symbols, someone will need to, well, blood them, and someone will need to lacquer it. You’re the only one with magic in your blood, so you have to give your blood.”
“Wait,” Elide says, frowning slightly. “Regina, you have magic. I’ve seen you use it. What do you mean, Emma’s the only one with magic?”
Regina turns to look at Elide. “In our world, well, in our original world, not Storybrooke, magic isn’t really designated at birth. If you study it and practice it, you can develop it.”
"Well, you can study dark magic if you get your hands on some. But light magic is from birth," Snow can't help but correct in a mutter.
Regina apparently hears anyway, because she stiffens and explains, “We have two major kinds of magic. There’s light magic and there’s dark magic. Technically, I have dark magic, because I learned it and made some… less than moral or ethical deals to get it. Emma has light magic, since she is the product of true love.”
Elide nods slowly. “So what you’re saying is there are two ways to look at all of you. One is that all of you have magic in your blood, since you all have the potential for magic. The other way is that only Emma has magic naturally in her, and the rest of you just use spells and incantations to produce what we call ‘magic.’”
Emma nods. “It makes sense. Regina carves the wand, Henry carves the symbols, I blood the wand, and… someone lacquers it. Who lacquers it?”
Elide is quiet for a moment. “Okay, remind me of how you all are related,” she finally says, and Snow leans forward.
“Regina is my step-mother. I fell in love with David and married him, and we had Emma. She had Henry and put him up for adoption. Regina adopted Henry. Emma eventually fell in love with Killian and married him.”
“Okay, so there are roughly four generations of you here?”
Snow and Regina glance awkwardly at each other. “Well…” Snow finally says. “It depends on your definition of ‘generation.’ Regina and I are only eight or ten years apart.”
“Well, then if you have three generations, I think it depends on the part you play.”
“The part we play?” Emma echoes.
“Yes.” Elide looks over at Lorcan and asks, “Do you know what I mean?”
Lorcan nods and explains, “Regina carved the wand. She is, in this case, the wand, the sorcerer, the foundation. Henry will carve the symbols. He is the symbol, the writer, the path. Emma will use her blood. She is the blood, the enabler, the power. Someone will lacquer everything in place. They are the lacquer, the guard, the armor.”
Snow nods slowly, trying to get the pieces to fit. Suddenly, she has a lightbulb moment and her eyes light up. “David should do it! You said they would play the part of the guard, right? That’s what David does for us. He guards our family, our town, our world.”
Elide nods. “Good. Then that’s settled. Aelin and Henry should be done soon, and then we can hopefully send you home.” Snow thanks the two, stands up, and leads Emma and Regina off to the quarters they've been assigned. At some point, David and Killian must have snuck off, but Snow finds them hanging out in their rooms. Regina and Emma fill them in and explain to David the part he is expected to play. David agrees, and they decide to let it rest for the night.
— — —
It isn’t until the next day at lunch that Aelin declares Henry and the wand are now ready.
“All it needs now is magical blood,” she says, holding the wand out towards Snow and her family. Emma stands up to take it, and Snow can’t quite help the flutter of fear. She can’t stand the idea that her daughter is going to hurt herself, even if it's all to give them a chance to get home.
The queen hands Emma a dagger and something that looks a bit like a wooden stylus. “Since the marks are already carved and just need blood, this will help,” she explains.
Emma dutifully takes the dagger, the stylus, and the wand and lays them out across the table. She cuts a gentle slice in her forearm and squeezes to let the blood well up. Just before it starts to drip, Emma swirls the stylus in her gash and carefully traces out the Wyrdmarks on the wand.
After what feels like an agonizing hour of waiting and watching silently, terrified to move a muscle if it might disturb Emma’s concentration, Snow finally breathes a sigh of relief as her daughter finishes the last of the six marks.
I wonder if it’s coincidence that there are six, or if it’s on purpose to reflect the number of us using it, she thinks idly as she watches Emma hand it off to David.
Silently, Rowan hands David what looks like a small inkpot and a painting brush. Aelin explains, “It’s resin to seal the blood in place and finish the wand. I believe Elide and Lorcan explained it to you?” She raises an expectant eyebrow, and Snow nods.
David accepts the brush and pot before placing them on the table. He picks up the wand from Emma and holds it carefully, keeping the bloody marks facing the ceiling. Snow notes almost absently that the blood has started to dry already, turning more rusty brown than crimson red.
As everyone watches, David carefully paints a thin line of the clear resin down the vertical line of the marks, sealing them in place. He rotates the wand, painting it in thin strips until the entire thing is covered.
“What now?” Regina asks, sounding impatient. “Do we have to wait for it to dry?”
In response, a wind brushes through the room, and a small lick of fire ignites over the queen’s hand. “No,” she replies, smirking at Regina. “Rowan and I will dry it, and then you can leave. With luck, you will be home soon enough."
Snow opens her mouth to reply, although she isn’t entirely sure what she might have said. Something to diffuse the tension thrumming along Regina’s body? It turns out it’s a moot point, because David beats her to it.
“I think it’s dry,” he says slowly, turning the wand in his hands. “Yeah, it’s not even tacky,” he confirms, looking up at them.
“Why don’t we all go out to the training field?" Elide asks. "It’ll have more open space. Just group up, hold on to each other, and concentrate.”
“Focus on things that belong to your world. Imagine a… a tether, of sorts, leading you home," Aelin says. "Just remember, don't lose concentration. There are too many worlds out there, and only one is yours."
“Will it work to do from here?” Snow asks, glancing at Aelin and Elide. “We arrived in Perranth. The different location won’t mess things up, will it?”
Aelin and Elide share a look. “Well…” Elide begins.
“I highly doubt it,” Aelin interrupts. “It’s the intention and the ritual more than anything physical. I don’t think the distance from where you first arrived will change anything.”
Snow nods thoughtfully. It makes sense. If the marks are supposed to bring them to a tether in Storybrooke, why would they end up somewhere random? And if they do run into problems, they'll jump whatever hurdles they have to. She realizes they've made it to the training field and gulps slightly. Now comes the moment of truth.
“All right,” Elide says encouragingly. “If you could all gather around Regina in a huddle, that would be best, I think. Everyone see if you can get one hand on the wand and one on someone else in the group. Keep as much in contact with each other as possible.”
Elide pauses, and everyone gets into position. Regina holds the wand out, tip pointing up, one hand on Henry's shoulder. Henry holds the wand and puts an arm around Emma, who grabs onto the wand and tucks her arm around Killian. Killian grips the wand and David's shoulder, and David holds onto the wand and Snow's shoulder. Snow holds onto the very top of the wand and holds onto Regina's waist.
“Everyone ready?” Elide asks when they've settled. At everyone’s murmur of assent, she continues, “Good. Now, all six of you, start imagining everything you can about Storybrooke. Imagine you are willing yourselves there, that you are building it up in your mind's eye.”
Snow closes her eyes and starts calling up her favorite memories of Storybrooke. She remembers the library that no one ever seemed to use, at least not as a library. She remembers her school and her classes. She remembers her apartment and the loft. She remembers Regina’s monochrome office and the huge town hall building that never seemed to hold anything else. She remembers all the little inconsistencies and idiosyncrasies that make Storybrooke unique.
She opens her eyes to see the wand not really glowing but seeming to pulse. All of a sudden, Terrasen is gone. She can feel them hurtling through air, although that also doesn’t make sense, because she can still feel the ground beneath her feet. Around her, she sees as they pass through worlds of ice, worlds of fire, worlds of magic, worlds of death. It never ends, a continuous stream of other worlds until suddenly, with a jolt, the wand splinters and Snow finds herself, still a member of their little huddle, standing in the center of Storybrooke.
After a few moments of stunned silence, Snow leads the way back to her loft. Inside, Granny has Neal, and Snow feels herself wilt in relief. They're home, they're safe, and they're together.
— — —
Two weeks later, Henry comes to find Snow.
“Grandma?” he asks, looking at a book he’s holding. Its cover is a bright green, with a pale woman in some sort of dark leather dress thing holding a bow as her white hair streams out behind her. “You here?"
“I’m here, Henry, what do you need?” she asks, frowning down at the book. Henry usually goes in for either classic fairy tales or horror romances, and this doesn't really look like either.
“Well, I was looking to see if I could find where we went. And I found it. It’s a book series called Throne of Glass, by Sarah J Maas.”
“That doesn’t sound like your usual reading,” Snow observes drily, and Henry shrugs.
“Yeah, but I wanted to check it out. I thought it might be cool to read their stories. Especially now that we’ve met them, you know?”
Snow nods, waving a hand at him to continue. She settles down in a chair and Henry sits facing her.
“Okay, so the series is seven main books with a book of prequel short stories. Although the sixth seems kind of weird and I'm not sure about it. It's not about the same people? And the cover is designed completely differently." His brow furrows before he shakes his head and moves on. "I’m on the third book.” He glances down at the book in his lap and then back up at her. “It’s a little weird, because the first three books, counting the prequels, are about an assassin named Celaena.”
Snow furrows her eyebrows. “We didn’t meet a Celaena,” she points out.
“Well, it turns out we did. In this book, it turns out Celaena is a lost princess named Aelin who’s been denying her identity to herself for a decade.”
“So Aelin is an assassin?” Snow asks. "Honestly, I’m not surprised. No wonder her entire court trains for hours every day."
“Yeah. What’s a little more weird is I haven’t even met Elide yet. Lorcan got mentioned once, but Elide hasn’t even come up.”
“Huh. Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying the series.”
“I am. And the author has two more series that sound similar, so I think I’ll check them out when I’m done. Who knows, maybe we’ll end up there someday, too!”
“I certainly hope not,” Snow replies, smiling.
Henry chuckles and gets up to leave. “Bye, Grandma! I just wanted to show you the series. You could always read it yourself someday.”
“Hmm. We’ll see,” Snow replies, standing to get the door for him. “I’ll see you later, okay? I think we’re meeting at Granny’s to have dinner.”
“Okay!” Henry calls, already most of the way down the stairs.
Snow shakes her head. Well, I’m honestly not surprised Aelin and her court are in a book series, she reflects. After all the other fictional worlds we’ve landed in, we honestly should have expected this.
She putters around her apartment, ghosting her fingers over the walls and her possessions, making a circuit of the place. They had been in Terrasen for under two weeks, and yet Snow can’t quite shake the feeling of absence. Still, touching the physical proof of her life here in Storybrooke is… calming, to say the least.
Finally starting to feel less off-kilter for the first time since arriving back in the US, Snow thinks, It’s nice to be home.