AUTHOR'S NOTES

This is me trying to cope with the recent episodes. Admit it. We all need some fluff after all that twists!

Let me know what you think and we might just be coping with each other for a little longer. I just love writing these fluffs though I don't know if it's getting any readers or what.

Let me know what you think? I just might love you forever. Aaaaand, you'll definitely cheer a cramming student for tomorrow's long day.

Have fun! Chapter two is up for your entertainment.

"I'm just saying!" Henry pushes, and if it weren't for her son's irresistible charm, Emma could've already gone bonkers. "It's basic math, mom. You are a princess." He beamed, as if that were the most amazing thing in the world. In another perspective, Emma knew that it could be. Princess. Just like she had always dreamed as a kid. To think of it, grown up Emma was living three year old Emma's dreams. Her parents were the fair and just rulers of the land—Snow White and Prince Charming, a big bonus—and that made her a princess.

But of course, grown up Emma had to scoff at that. "Come on kid, where is this coming from, huh?"

"It just hit me." He squared his shoulders, and took a hearty sip of his blended Nutella.

"Well, you better hurry up. David's going to be here soon."

One more sip. "As you wish, your highness."

Emma tried to suppress a laugh and rolled her eyes. "Really, Henry?"

"Come on. Won't you play along?" Henry teased, and jumped off of his seat, knowing just what to do next. "Can you do something for me?"

"Oh, now what?" Emma crossed her arms around her waist, and watched as Henry reached out for the tiara that's been sitting on top of the drawer forever. She had laid eyes on it before, but had never given it much thought. One thing was for sure though; it hadn't been there when she and Snow were just roommates. Maybe she managed to snag it out of Gold's shop, or whatever. "Be careful with that, Henry. I'm thinking those diamonds are real."

"Oh trust me, they are real." Henry seconded, and handed his mom the tiara. "Just this once, please?"

"…and you'll stop all the princess talk?" Emma bargained; seemed legit for an eleven year old, though. Henry nodded, and she willingly took the headdress on her hand, and placed it on top of her unruly, blonde locks. That alone, won't pass for a princess, and oh…

All of a sudden, she imagined herself wearing a puffy ball gown, with a sapphire necklace around her neck. She imagined being in an enormous hall, dancing with a fine, and young man to the symphony of the violins. She imagined Snow White and Prince Charming proudly watching from their thrones, clasping hands at the sight of their daughter. Their princess.

Emma had been too indulged in her own thoughts, that she didn't hear the door open, and the not-too-soft conversation by her parents. She hadn't heard Henry's cheerful greeting, or even noticed that Snow was already sharing the mirror with her.

"It's heavier than it looks, isn't it?"—Emma jumped, in a snap of a finger, already aware of her surroundings. She didn't realize she was still wearing the tiara until she trailed her mother's gaze and found it adoring the headpiece.

"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to touch your stuffs and…"

"Don't be silly, Emma." Snow cut her midsentence, "Actually, I think it's about time you had that."

"You're kidding me, right?" Emma gasped in disbelief.

Snow looked over at David, who was busying himself with tonight's dinner—chicken in white sauce, courtesy of Prince Charming himself—who gave her a reassuring nod. Emma got a hold of the tiara and held it carefully in her hand as Snow led her to the drawer where it was placed. She opened the top-most door, and took out a gift box.

"Johanna, she gave it back to me." Snow had to hold back tears at the memory of Johanna's loss, and turned to smile at her daughter. Even through the sweet crack of a smile, Emma saw the slightest hint of pain in her mother's eyes. "She was my nanny growing up. I didn't even realize she was here in Storybrooke until my birthday, when she left this on our door."

"I didn't know you…" Emma interrupted, feeling the worst daughter in the world for not knowing these little things about her parents.

"It's not a problem, Emma. In fact I've never celebrated my birthdays since," she trailed off, the rush of memories suddenly too overwhelming. "My thirteenth; when my mother died."—when Cora poisoned her; for some reasons, she decided to leave that out.

Emma's face fell, so she decided to get to the cheerful part of the story. "Anyway, she gave this to me days before I turned thirteen. And when we found out we were about to start a family? Have you in our lives? I couldn't wait for the day when I can finally hand it over to my own daughter."

Snow took the tiara from Emma, and placed it gently on her daughter's crown for the second time today. But this time, Emma didn't feel alienated by its weight; if anything, she felt at home.

"It's a family heirloom now." Emma huffed out, surprised with herself for not flinching at her mother's touch as Snow ran her fingers through locks of blonde hair, smoothing out tangles. "Thank you."

Snow snorted, yet still managed to be graceful at that. "No need to thank me; it was yours to begin with," she held her daughter's hand, and squeezed it gently, "Princess Emma Ruth."—and led her back to the commotion in the kitchen.