Disclaimer: I own nothing of Once Upon a Time or Game of Thrones. I own only my own characters of which there are many. Please do not use any of them without permission.
Warning: This story will have elements of violence and sexual situations.
A/N: I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a while... I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know your thoughts.
Chapter 1
The conqueror king, Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, had died. It happened without much fanfare across the Shimmering Seas south of Westeros, a little black crow bringing the news on its leg. The first-born son of the fallen King, Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name, ascended with much the same notice, a squawking crow delivering the news to the King and Queen of the White Kingdom, Rulers of the Enchanted Isles. Neither message meant much to the people so far away across the Shimmering Sea and life continued as usual.
Three years passed with little change in the lives of the people of the Enchanted Isles. Their King and Queen were kind, and the Kingdom was flourishing under their direction. Much struggle had brought them to the easy peace that surrounded the land. Wars bitterly fought with their neighbouring Kingdom had lasted years, and with their ending, the people were finally returning to their lives.
King James was a kind man, given to mucking in the dirt with his soldiers as much as presiding over court matters. His wife, Queen Snow, First of Her Name and only child of the former King, ignored her advisors that her husband's actions did not fit a Royal. Theirs was a match of the truest love, not an arrangement sought to unite powerful families. The people were prosperous and happy, so in the Queen's mind, her advisors could only bicker like old hens, not affect any change in the King's behavior.
So it had been in the Enchanted Isles, until the day that a ship came to their shores, bearing a flag emblazoned with a great stag on a field of red. It sat too high to be a trader vessel, and its crew too clean for regular sea fairing men. It anchored and the mouth of the bay that was the center point of trade for all the Isles, blocking the way for most ships.
At first there was annoyance, then anger that a ship bearing the standard of the house Baratheon would dare to interrupt trade in a land not its own. As it sat through the day and into night with no sign of further approach, such feelings ebbed, only to be replaced by a growing fear of the unknown. A feeling that was shared by most of the nobles at court.
King James held up a hand, signalling for quiet as he and the Queen rose from their thrones. A hush fell over most of the crowd, though two nobles continued to murmur quietly of the silent ship and its intentions. "My Lords and Ladies be calm," Queen Snow began, her bearing regal and relaxed, "There is no call to be alarmed at this moment."
"With respect, Your Magesty," one of the elder lords spoke up, after shooting a stern look at the two still more interested in their own assumptions than fact, "I worry of the chance that the War of the Five Kings will reach our shores."
Queen Snow sighed quietly, observing the tenseness in the crowd. The Lord who had spoken, Damien of Yorestone, was primarily a successful business man and as such, not prone over reaction. The Yorestone family was one of the oldest in the Enchanted Isles, and their support of the White family had never wavered. "I share your concern, Lord Yorestone," the Queen said, "But one ship does not an invasion make."
"My Queen speaks true, noble Lords," James followed, "We have no reason to believe they mean us ill. Our trade with Westeros, indeed with the blessing of King Robert Baratheon, all the Gods keep him, has never faltered, and we should not assume the worst of the new King."
"Perhaps they await a crow?" one young Lord spoke up, causing several murmurs to rise.
"Indeed," said another, his tone relieved as though looking for hope, "Perhaps they await word from Westeros."
"It may be such," Snow said over the din, quieting it with her voice, "It may even be that they await the dawn to present before the court. We simply do not know."
"We have no reason to believe otherwise," James added, smiling at his wife, "But for the nonce, I say to you go home. The hour is late and I have no wish to be standing here tempting the fates with doom-saying when I could be abed. If no solution presents on the morrow, we will speak of this again."
Queen Snow waved to the guards at the doors, signalling them to open and escort the Lords and Ladies away. It had been a long day, as it always was running a kingdom, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up with her husband after checking on her children.
"Thank the Gods that is ended," James muttered as they left through their own separate door, "I have no desire to soothe the nobles with their quaking buttocks."
"James!" Snow admonished, but not without a smile. Most of the Nobles had never faced a missed meal, let alone a war zone before, and they tended towards imagining the worst of things. "We should send a crow to Emma," she continued, as always, missing her first daughter, "To let her know of things."
"I agree," James nodded, motioning a small page who was walking towards them, "Best to be prepared." Then to the page, "Have the Maister send a crow to Princess Emma. No doubt she is still wandering the ruins of the Blackheart's castle. I want her to return in all haste with her men."
"Yes, Magesty!" the page said smartly, snapping to and rushing off as quickly as his legs could carry him.
"Which one was that again?" James asked his wife, marvelling once again at how his wife seemed to know every child in the castle.
"Peter," Snow chuckled, "The same that tripped carrying your bow last harvest." The moment she referred to was nearly legend among the servants of the castle.
The young scruffy boy was of an age where all his limbs grew faster than he could keep up with them, and when sent to fetch the King's long bow for a hunt, he had made it nearly back when his feet tripped him up. Ass over crown the boy had tumbled, down a slight dip directly into a mud puddle. Miraculously, he had managed to keep the long bow from breaking, or even getting covered in mud. So there he had lain, covered in mud, holding up the bow proudly as James walked over and plucked it out of his hand before helping him up and ruffling his very muddy hair.
"Ah yes," James chuckled, wrapping an arm around Snow's waist, "Grown into his legs a bit it would seem."
"Yes it would," Snow agreed, leaning against her husband as they made their way to their suites.
Shadows crawled across the ruins of the Black Castle, making the stones seem to writhe in misery as they lay crumbling all around. Nearly destroyed from the last terrible war to ravage the Enchanted Isles, its downfall had brought an end to the 12 year war against its owner. Queen Cora, evil witch, the Blackheart to all who knew her, had finally fallen, an arrow through her throat, shot by Queen Snow herself.
Emma the Swan, House of White, and heir to the throne of the Enchanted Isles lay comfortably on her furs, warmed by the fire nearby, and stared at the ghostly ruin, still fascinated, even 6 years on, with the tale of the Blackheart's defeat.
A hard woman, born to poverty but married into royalty, she found skill in the use of magic and used it to control her husband, the King. It was rumor for many years that even the child she had born, was created by magic, as the Queen wouldn't allow the King to touch her in private. Regina, she had named the child, a pretty little thing, so bright and well mannered. Of course, the whispers across the land said that the Black Queen used magic on the child, harming her as though there was no mother's love in her heart. No proof of such was ever discovered, nor would it be, because in her 13th year, the Princess had fallen ill with a coughing sickness that she never recovered from. Queen Cora announced it to the land that her only child had died. There was no funeral, and no mentioned of her was ever allowed in the Black Queen's presence again.
Emma sighed, remembering the sad tale. It always brought her to the ruins, whenever she could get away from palace life. Always thrilled by the adventure of leaving the White Kingdom, the young princess often found it difficult to sleep. In those moments, she would think of the little princess, wondering what she would have become if not for the Blackheart. Most of the time, Emma believed that she would have overthrown her cruel mother and restored peace to the land.
A quiet squawk drew her attention and she looked up to the trees to see a crow perched and looking solemnly in her direction. So much of her time was filled with court, and training in Knight's pursuits, of which she studied with equal vigor, that it was hard to convince her mother to let her leave. On these few trips though, she basked in the freedom it brought; hunting meals with her fellow knights, washing in streams, and even the heavy handed convincing of a few bandits to choose another line of work. She had only been gone two days this time, and her mother had found a reason to call her back again.
Emma was half way to convincing herself to ignore the bird, or roast it over the fire for morning meal when a quiet voice interrupted her thoughts. "A crow," one of the young soldiers said, rousing others, "It must be from the castle."
"Very good, Fennis," Emma groused, sitting up and glaring good naturedly, "Since your eyes are so good, why don't you go fetch its message."
"Yes, Highness," he said, eyeing the tree that he would have to climb. The look on his face spoke that he would not be so quick to comment again.
A quick trip up, with many a colourful curse word muttered loud enough to make those gathered around chuckle, and Fennis retrieved the crow's message. Emma watched him carefully, running long fingers through her long blonde hair to tame it for a leather tie. She had argued with her mother that she wanted it cut, as it posed a problem with her armor, but the Queen vehemently refused. It was the subject of more than one argument over the years, and only the braided leather ties that were a gift from her father had kept her from taking a sword to the length.
"What news?" Emma asked, after Fennis had handed the message scroll to his Knight Commander.
"A Baratheon ship blocks the bay," Quinop, the Knight in charge of the men responded, reading the note again. He was a big man, half a hand taller than most, filling his knight's armor well. A shock of red hair crowned his head and covered his face as he frowned at the paper he clutched. A noble himself, second son of Lord Jarro, House of Darrussi, his was a strong family, where only the best warriors were honored. His father, Lord Balthus was a legend among the kingdom, having helped the King and Queen to defeat the Blackheart despite his advanced age. Quintop's elder brother, Lyonadi would be future Lord of the house, so Quintop had been allowed to become a Knight Commander.
"Baratheon," Emma muttered, shaking her head. She held little interest for the Kings of other lands, though rumor reached even the Enchanted Isles of how brutal a man now lead the people. "What could the petulant young King want?"
"The King and Queen want you home to find out, Highness," Quintop replied. He had always called her Highness, more as a term of endearment than a title. Emma and the young Darrussi Lord had grown up together, often running off from court and climbing the trees around the kingdom, much to the worry of her parents. As they grew, the two remained inseparable, through festivals, official gatherings, and sword lessons equally. Their parents had spoken more than once, as they both knew, of possible marriage, but no official deal had been made.
"Of course they do," she sighed, gathering her armor from the neat pile she had stacked it in before laying down for the night. "Gather the men, Quin," Emma continued, "We travel at dawn."