Most Voted Stories

What Else Is There? (OUAT)

In the blink of an eye, Charlotte stumbled out of the on-call room, hastily adjusted her dishevelled appearance, and hopes no one would notice the lingering scent of Whale's overpowering cologne on her. But before she could catch her breath, a surge of dizziness overcame her. Clutching her chest, panic filled her eyes as an intense wave of sickness washed over her. It was as if the air around her crackled with a magical energy.

The world spun around her, and she grasped the doorframe to steady herself. The sensation of magic coursed through her veins, from head to toe, like an impending storm.

"Dr. Swanson?" a soft voice called out, and Charlotte turned to see a concerned nurse watching her. The unease spread, affecting the entire hospital staff.

"What's happening?" Charlotte gasped, her voice trembling. She scanned the room, taking in nurses, doctors, and patients. Her attention was drawn to a sudden scream, and she followed the patient's terrified gaze, only to find them pointing at her. To her horror, Charlotte saw her skin shifting, turning pale and distorted. Feathers sprouted from her arms and face, and panic surged through her as she tried to brush them away, but they multiplied uncontrollably.

A chilling realisation washed over her—she was transforming into a swan. Memories flooded her mind, memories that didn't belong to her. Awkwardly, she shuffled on her newly webbed feet. The once-familiar hospital corridors now felt strange and foreign.

"Charlotte? Are you all right?" Cries of shock and fear filled the room as people backed away from the bewildered swan, honking and hissing in distress, a desperate plea for help trapped in its throat. Flapping its wings, it tried to fend off anyone who approached, its terror palpable.

Amidst the chaos, hospital staff and onlookers attempted to catch the panicked swan. But Charlotte, now transformed, proved surprisingly nimble, eluding their grasp with swift movements. She honked frantically, yearning for someone to understand, but her calls were misinterpreted as aggression, causing people to retreat.

In her search for recognition, Charlotte's instincts guided her to Henry's room. If anyone could identify her, it would be him. The boy had been so certain of her identity, thrusting the book into her hands as he urged her to believe – something she had dismissed as the innocent imaginings of a child. Wheeling herself through the corridors, her feet against the linoleum echoing, she hastened as fast as her swan legs could carry her.

Emma's attention was drawn to the door, her eyes widening at the commotion. The noisy swan burst into the room, and Emma instinctively positioned herself between her son and the approaching bird.

"Hold on, Henry," she cautioned, her protective instincts taking over. "Stay back."

Henry, however, recognised the swan's eyes. Despite the chaos, he spoke with conviction, "Wait, Mom! It's Charlotte – or, uh, Odette!"

"Charlotte? My roommate Charlotte? Cranky Redhead, about ye-hi?" Emma's scepticism wavered as she surveyed the swan, which was now growling at her as it shuffled further into the room. Emma's doubts clashed with her growing realisation that magic was indeed real, and the situation was far from ordinary.

The swan emitted a soft coo as if attempting to convey its true identity. Henry cautiously approached, extending his hand. "It's okay," he reassured, edging closer to the bird. "You can trust us, Odette. We'll protect you." In response, the swan seemed to relax, its feathers ruffling in a calming manner.

With Henry leading the way, Odette followed Emma and him into town, waddling a few paces behind as they walked. Although Henry encouraged her to take flight, her years out of practice and an uncomfortable awareness of guns held her back. Emma grew frustrated, forced into a slow yet determined pace as they approached Granny's.

"Come on," Henry urged, motioning for her to continue. "We're almost there." His condescending words elicited a low hiss from Odette, and Emma couldn't help but chuckle, imagining the choice words the hiss might carry.

Amidst the tense scene that followed, Emma grappled with the newfound reality, wrestling with the resurrection of her parents and the world of magic. Odette wished she could offer comfort, observing the array of emotions playing across Emma's face – hurt, fear, confusion, anger, despair, but also love, a deep and potent love.

Henry moved to rush towards his grandparents, but the swan tugged at his shirt with its beak, halting him. "What's wrong?" Communication was a challenge, Odette realised. Conveying complex feelings to a child wasn't a simple task. She wanted to say, "Give them space, Henry. Your mother isn't exactly the trusting type, and this is overwhelming for her." But instead, her message came across as a trumpet's blare and a flurry of wings, leaving Henry to respond with a shrug.

As the commotion escalated, more townspeople gathered memories of their enchanted forest lives flooding back, along with their deep-rooted animosity toward the Evil Queen, Regina. The atmosphere crackled with anger, a sense of unity binding them as they remembered and shared in their shared trauma at her hands.

Struggling to keep pace with the human crowd, Odette found her swan form a hindrance. She heard their angry chants, an undercurrent of vengeance permeating the air. Feeling disconnected and unable to fully embrace their fervour, she slipped away unnoticed, hoping to find a solution to her avian issue.

She waited until the sun dipped beneath the horizon, before making her way to Mr Gold's pawnshop. Inside, shadows mingled with the faint glimmer of antiquities. She watched as Gold moved amidst his treasures, his back to her. Clearing her throat, Odette's voice carried a touch of bitterness. "The Dark One reduced to running a pawnshop."

Gold turned, his expression inscrutable. "And yet, you sought me out, dearie."

Odette's tone grew heated. "Don't call me 'Dearie.' It's been a long time since I've been anyone's dear."

A knowing glint appeared in Gold's eyes. "You haven't changed much, Odette."

Her voice dripped with contempt. "And you're one to talk. The great evil wizard turned pawnbroker." She paused, a hint of something darker passing through her gaze. "How the mighty have fallen, Rothbart."

Gold's jaw clenched, his demeanour shifting subtly. "That name is best left in the past."

"The past?" Odette's laughter was harsh, bitterness colouring her words. "The past is where we all reside now, isn't it? Thanks to your curse."

"Ah, the curse." Gold's voice took on a sombre note. "You're here to break it, I presume?"

Odette's eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with resentment. "You know I am."

A tense silence hung in the air before Gold sighed, his expression shifting between weariness and something more complex. "There's nothing I can offer you, Dearie."

Odette's restraint frayed. A red tinge edged her vision as rage consumed her. She slammed her palm against the glass cases, her feet firmly planted. "Then you're going to make me an offer, unless you want Belle to find out how well you and I know each other, Rothbart."

Gold's composure faltered, his facade crumbling. "Are you threatening me?"

A wicked smirk curved Odette's lips, darkness matching the intensity of her tone. "I believe you'd call it a negotiation. You give me what I want, and in return, your precious princess will never discover the truth about us, the lake, or what you did to my kingdom."

The room was heavy with tension, a palpable standoff between two formidable adversaries. Gold's voice rumbled. "Even if I wished to aid you, Dearie, your curse can only be broken in one way. So I suggest you stop squandering your precious hours and go find that pompous prince of yours." Monstrous fury radiated from Odette's gaze. Gold moved past her and opened the door, his voice a warning. "Tick-tock, Miss Swanson."