A short ficlet based on a scene from the latest episode. God, it killed me.

"Have you forgotten all the good times we've had? Making wine from wild flowers, naming the stars to fall asleep at night."

"You named them all Anastasia."

"It's the most beautiful name I know."


Wonderland is a magical place. There are two moons in the sky, grass taller than people, strange plants and creatures, all of them fantastically strange and beautiful. There was magic in Sherwood Forest, but nothing like this.

It still doesn't fill an empty belly.

They're lying curled up together next to a small campfire. The wagon is too stuffed with belongings to sleep in, and the ground is cold and hard despite the cloths Will's attempted to create a sort of bed with. The sky is too bright with the light of the moons to really fall asleep, if Ana's stomach would even let her – she's hardly had a bite to eat in two days. She feels cold and alone despite Will's arm wrapped around her, her mother's disappointment echoing in her head.

(Sometimes she wonders if this was the right choice.)

"Anastasia," Will says.

"What?" she asks, tensing slightly in his arms for a moment – wondering if he knows, feeling even more a fool – but he's tugging her closer, kissing her hair, and she relaxes back into him. Reaches a hand up to caress his cheek, and he kisses her fingers; and the warmth comes flooding back in just like it always does, when Will's here. She almost forgets that she could ever be scared.

"I'm naming stars," he whispers into her ear. One hand lets go of her waist to wrap around her own hand, pointing together up at a bright star shining above them. "That one's Anastasia."

"Oh," she breathes, and shifts a little. He moves with her easily (they've always moved so easily together) until they're on their backs, with Ana's head on his shoulder, and she points at a star of her own. "Then that one's Ella."

It twinkles bright and beautiful and good, high high above her.

Will points to another star. "Anastasia."

She's surprised into giggles, and nudges him lightly. "You've already used that name, pick another."

"I won't," he claims stubbornly – and keeps his word, throughout that night and all the nights that follow. Ana names the stars beautiful things, names them after all the royalty she knows and when she runs out, she names them after jewels and gems. She names them after kind women and good men and after pretty flowers and delicious foods, she names them the best things she can think of each night until she falls asleep, wrapped close and warm in Will's arms.

And every night, he holds her tight and whispers her name, again and again. Says it soft and sweet, "Anastasia, Anastasia, oh that one's definitely an Anastasia," and never tells her why.


(On the eve of her wedding, after Cora retires for the night, Ana walks out onto her balcony. Grips the railing tightly, exactly where Will climbed up yesterday – he will never love you again, Cora whispers, it's already too late - and stares out at the dark scenery of Wonderland beneath her. When she looks up it's to a shooting star, bright and magical and far distant.

"Will," she names it, just before it disappears out of sight.)