If Elsa was still in Storybrooke when Emma became the Dark One.
Surroundingthe being, taking her. She can feel it,taste it at the tip of her tongue. It’s always been there, but now— she can sense it.
It’s sweet,it’s freeing, it’s addictive. Oh! She’s burningfrom inside. Delightfully.
Shebreathes deeply, taking as much air she can to inside her lungs. After a coupleof seconds, the being releases it at once, letting a gasp escape from betweenher lips. Delicious.
She feelsthe burning becoming almost unbearable. Please,please, please. Her body stiffens, every muscle of it contracting in themost heavenly way. Emma! Her crytrespass the confines of her minds and pass through her lips into a desperate, succulentcall.
It’s powerfulin a distinctive way. She can feel the world merging inside her.
She isn’t Elsa. She isn’t Emma.
She opensher eyes to find her green gaze. Emma.
They don’tneed to speak those words. There is a bridge connecting them: the dagger’spower and their love snuggling against each other peacefully inside her. Theyhave become the bridge between darkness and light.
Elsafollowed her instincts Emma had become the Dark One and her family turned herback to her — not forever, they said;just until we figure out what to do.
And when herrushed, clumsy attempt of a first kiss had turned into a True Love’s kiss, theformer Savior finally felt freed. Not from the darkness — and she doesn’t even wanted this part of Emma to disappear —, but fromher own fears.
And now— now darkness and light merge between them. Lightand darkness, True Love and the dagger, Emma and Elsa: they created the bridge.
The icequeen reaches out to touch Emma’s hand on her growing belly. Her hand that is touching theirbridge, their daughter, their Hope.
We’ve flow afarBeyond the seaTo find each other finallyWe’ve waited long and patientlyTo build a bridge between dualities