MANGLED HEARTS
Note: When I began writing this, there was no Charlotte in OUAT. This is not the handmaiden but instead the OUAT version of Charlotte La Bouff
Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time.
Night time is peeled away with the drawing of her curtains, the thick embroidered fabric no longer shielding the rare sun which casts a glow over the English greenery. Emma remains in the comfort of her bed, an arm thrown ungracefully over head, whilst her discarded book falls to the floor as she rolls away from the glare of the window, groaning slightly.
"Damnations," she mutters beneath her breath, eyes blinking erratically as she pushed herself up from the comfort of her bed to lock eyes with her lady's maid. "Anna, how can it be morning once more?" she asks dramatically, slipping back against the sheets. Most would say that it is her own fault that the tiredness plagues her, that the hours she spent reading at night are intended for sleep. Her mother would scorn her for allowing the candle wax to almost completely melt before she turned in for the night.
Emma's long flaxen hair falls in soft curls as she shifts from the bed, collecting her robe before moving to settle in front of the vanity, which is not barren of items. The wealth of her parents had clad not only her room, but all three of their homes in grandeur.
There's an abrupt knock at the door, before her younger, far more exuberant sister comes bustling in, "Emma, the post has come, there's a letter from Master Gold." The younger of the two is always brighter in the morning, and desperate for adventure. Her body bounces up and down, the many hoops of her bright pink skirts jostling with every energetic movement the girl makes.
"Charlotte, must you sour my mood so early in the morning?" The girl's smile never falters, despite Emma's words, as she simply brushes it off with a wave of her hand and stands beside Anna staring down at her older sister. "Your future is almost certain, sister. Better to be happy about it, then wallow in misery. I cannot wait for my own coming out ball, I'll dance and drink champagne. I'll have to discuss hairstyles with Tiana, I will have to sparkle!"
Emma turns her head, "Do not wish away your young years, Charlotte. Your ball, I'm certain, will be splendid. But two years is a while away, and you may come to miss our home."
There are two things that Emma remains certain upon, the first is that her parents are desperate for her to be bound in matrimony to Neal Gold, who comes with a good set of titles and a vast amount of land. The second point, is that she finds him charmless and at times, utterly repulsive. They've met first at the Locksley wedding, where he so eagerly introduced himself. His hands acted familiar upon her person, grasping her waist in an unspeakable fashion which had her pulling away.
"You have no claim over me, Master Gold. I demand you release your hand from my person at once," she'd warned, watching the way his features contorted from shock to anger. He'd whisper that soon enough she would be his property and then he could do as he wished. She hated him for it.
"Emma, are you still with me?" Charlotte questions, eyes quickly scanning over her elder sister with concern.
"Yes, sister, carry on."
She pelts her parasol against the side of the bushes, watching the way some crumble and others fall. The light blue fabric is marked by the green of the leaves, and she can't bring herself to care. Her sister is rushing after her, but Emma is in a world entirely on her own.
"Emma! Emma, please I beg you to slow down," Charlotte calls, the exhaustion evident in her breath as she continues to chase after her sister. "Mama just told me."
Her chest hurts, the walls around her too close.
Freedom has never been her own, and now her mother proclaims that Master Gold is to join them for dinner this evening. She knows what that means, what his intentions are. How can she marry him?
Neal has blinded her parents into believing that he is a good man, a decent man. He was when Emma had first met him, a few months ago, but since them his grip upon her had only grown stronger. She knew she would be his possession, a toy for him to play with.
She loathes the thought of a lifetime of misery, her hand caught between his at dinner parties. The false laughs, the warmth on her neck which repulses her.
Her dearest friend Regina had found love in her husband, their courtship had been romantic and she'd wanted that happy ending for her friend. Especially after Daniel, who decided that the risk of loving someone destined from the Aristocracy was burden he could not bear, he'd instead married a hand maiden that no one caught the name of and was never seen again.
She sits beside the fountain in the gardens, momentarily wondering if she should drown herself in the shallow water.
Charlotte claps her hands, offering a saddened look. "Why do you loathe this so much?" she questions, not understanding the pain of her sister.
"He's a horrid man, Charlotte. I know that I will be nothing to him, just an object. I can see the cruelness in his eyes, I don't want to marry him," she admits, resting her head against her sister's shoulder. "Mama does not understand," she whispers, wiping away the stray tears.
"You deserve to be happy, Emma."
The rest of the day has her stomach in knots. She wishes to run away, to flee her family home in search of freedom. But she cannot betray her parents in that way, no matter how much she desires it. Her family are new money, they have no titles only a large bounty, and Mary Margaret and David Nolan wish to be acknowledged by all members of respectable society.
Anna dresses her in blue silk, pinning jewels into her locks into her hair, as per Mrs Nolan's request.
Emma stares at herself in the mirror, she's beautiful and sad. There's a short knock at the door, before it's creaked open to reveal her mother, dark hair coifed. The only one of her children to have the same shade was the youngest in the family, James, named after David's deceased twin brother, who succumbed to illness when they were still children.
Mary-Margaret walks in gracefully, words of adoration gushing from her mouth as she gently presses a kiss to Emma's head. Her mother is excited; she can feel it in the air.
"You look beautiful, Emma." Her mother dismisses Anna, and waits for the maid to leave before she then turns to her daughter once more. The lines around her eyes have sunk deeper with age, the youthful complexion now primed with rouge to give it an extra glow.
There is no cruelty in her mother, or lack of love. But her parents have become too obsessed with the idea of Neal Gold that they'd missed all the signs.
"I'm so proud of you, Emma. Tonight is the start of your new life," she gushes, caressing the side of Emma's check.
The false smile on Emma's lips falters, chest constricting beneath her corset. Her fingers clasp the vanity table, steadying her nerves.
She descends the stairs, noting that both Neal and his father are already in attendance.
Kisses are laid upon her hand, compliments are whispered and as they sit side by side at the dinner table, his hand catches her wrist and holds it tight. "Don't let your parents down," he mutters into her ear, tone cold as he smiles over at the two, who likely think Neal is saying something charming.
There is nothing attractive about Neal, both inside and out. There's a monstrosity to him, another side that she dares not to know better.
Several courses are consumed, and she begins to think that he may not propose – much to her delight. They're consuming crepe suzette when he gets down on one knee, ring in hand as he gazes up at her with no love in his eyes. His grip is firm on her fingers, eyes menacing, "Miss Emma, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"
The question is merely a curtesy; she doesn't really believe that there is an option there for her.
"I will."
"Lord and Lady Locksley warmly invite you to their home, and request that you have the most splendid evening as you share in their festivities." Emma resisted the urge to scoff, knowing that her mother's scolding glance was not too far from sight. Many years had been spent in the nursery with the Duchess of Locksley, and though they shared a fondness likened to that of sisters, the fairer haired of the two knew that Regina was not the most tolerant of other people's company.
The judgement which passes through the duchess is fleeting on her features, but eternal in her heart and Emma knows this. Of course, there is a softness to the lady which not many are privy to, but Robin has a particular knack at coaxing it from her. The boldness of the American born duchess is no secret; in fact, it is celebrated by many women who feel staunched by the social etiquette of English society.
The newlyweds returned from their trip to America, and have since decided to host a marvellous ball to announce their arrival home. Emma knew that her presence was mandatory, but she favoured it more than the other venues which her mother pressed upon her. The shimmering white of her gown was admired by many, as she brushed past the nobility.
Emma makes her way over to the happy couple, as the practiced smile on Regina's features stretch into something much more genuine. The duchess stretches over, pressing a kiss to the side of her kiss, "Finally, someone with a little character," she comments, causing a stir to flash across her husband's features.
"Regina," he childes, although his grip around her waist remains tender.
"What? Am I not amongst friends, darling?" she questions, looping her arm around Emma's. "The Duke thinks I'm being too American. I say there is no such thing!" Despite Regina's words, Emma knows that the queen of cold is utterly besotted with Robin.
"Love suits you, your grace," Emma notes, loathing her inability to address her friend as she previously could. Only in private may she now address Regina with her first name.
"Most things suit me, do they not? I do not care to become ghastly and fat like so many trapped in matrimony, how blessed am I to have married handsome," Regina announces, causing Robin to roll his eyes. "Dearest Emma, your mother is casting the most frightful look towards you. Have you not graced the charmless Neal Gold with your beauty? He should be a lucky man indeed for you to accept, although I say there is more for you than the son of Lord Gold."
Emma releases a sigh, pressing a kiss to Regina's cheek before giving Robin a short bow, "I shall return later."
Walking towards her mother, Emma feels the noose tighten slightly around her neck. She does not desire marriage for the sake of it, to be a nameless figure of beauty caught beside a man regarded so highly.
Beside her mother now stands Lady Belle, Alistair Gold's second wife. The lady is many years younger, and fairer than her predecessor, and from Emma had heard, a woman of high intellect. The belly of the woman is significantly rounder than the last time she'd seen the petite lady.
"Lady Belle, it's a pleasure to see you once more," Emma announces, smiling warmly at the woman. She has little resentment towards the Lady, but she loathes the man she is attached to, and the son she is now betrothed to.
Belle begins to speak, but she misses the words, focus caught on a gentleman. His dark hair and deep eyes hook her instantly, breath caught in her chest, "Who is that?" she whispers, eyes following as he walks over to Lord Locksley and regards him with fondness, smiles passed as he shakes Robin's hands and kisses Regina's hands.
Her feet are uncontrollable, steps undeterred as she walks through the throng of people, intrigued by the man.
There's a sharp grip on her arm, and a hot breath with an accompanying scent of whiskey. "It's rude to avoid ones fiancé."
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! There is more to come this week, and beyond. I'm hoping that you'll leave reviews and alert/favourite if you liked.