Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.
A Shepherd's Daughter
Emma woke up to thin rays of morning light filtering through her window. On the bed beside her, she felt her grandmother stirring as well. Careful not to rustle the bed too much, Emma slipped out from underneath the heavy wool blanket, pulled on her shoes, and tiptoed to close the drapes on the window. Once they were firmly secured, she sneaked out of the room, managing to leave the exhausted Ruth asleep.
Her father was already awake, cooking some eggs on the fire. Emma grinned when she saw that there was already a plate of strawberries on the meager wooden table that served as both cooking space and dining table. Her father liked to pull out all the stops on Emma's birthday.
"Grandma is still sleeping," Emma intoned quietly. David turned to look up at Emma, and smiled wearily. He always had a weary look about him—ever since Emma could remember. Sometimes she would catch him crying by the window, Ruth patting his back or simply standing in solidarity beside him. Emma would always tiptoe back out of the room whenever that happened, and would never think of mentioning it to him.
Her father wore a simple, loose beige shirt, worn soft from constant use. His pants were a darker brown and hung baggy on his legs, nearly covering his soft leather shoes. His hair was graying sparsely, little bits of silver spaced through his otherwise dirty blonde hair. His skin was tanned from hours toiling under the sun.
"Happy birthday, Emma." David greeted Emma, standing up to wrap her in a warm hug. Emma felt her father's hand come to rest on the back of her head, and sighed into his embrace. If there was one thing that could always calm her, make her feel warm and welcomed, it was a hug from David.
Emma let go first, and David turned around, back to the breakfast. He started scraping the eggs onto two separate plates, giving Emma a larger portion. Emma accepted the eggs gratefully, and they both sat down to the table. Emma savored every strawberry, though she was careful to leave enough for Ruth to have when she woke up. They were perfectly ripe, and Emma grinned at David through a mouthful of red.
After breakfast, Emma followed David outside. They let the sheep out of the pen, and David herded them towards a spot of grass that had gone uneaten for longer than the other patches.
The sunrise was a glorious thing where Emma lived. She always loved this time of the morning, when all was silent save for the chirping of the birds, the chattering of the sheep, and the breath of her father beside her. The wind picked up speed every few minutes, rustling the trees that surrounded the farm. The sky was settling into the day, turning from orange and pink to the light cerulean blue that reminded Emma of David's eyes.
Definitely green, Emma thought, picturing her own eyes, and how she must've inherited the clear, grass-green color. A woman with green eyes and wavy hair. Emma couldn't figure out the color; her own hair was the golden blonde of straw, and her father's was just a few shades darker, so that explained where she got that trait. The rest of her features were up for grabs.
"Jill looks like she's limping," Emma spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the morning peace. "Front left leg," she specified, noticing the dip every time her favorite sheep took a step. She'd named the sheep when she was just a few years old, after a rhyme she'd heard of Jack and Jill when Ruth had taken her to town. The other children had been chanting the song while skipping around in a circle. On the last notes, everyone had thrown themselves on the ground.
"I'll have grandma check her out when she gets up," David replied after studying the sheep for a moment, equally quiet. Emma nodded, and surveyed the rest of the herd. She was about to note that one of the sheep, the one that had been bitten in the hindquarters by a stray dog, was straying from the rest of the group, when the sound of hooves approaching caught her attention.
David and Emma turned at the same time to watch the Black Knight approaching.
"What day is today?" Emma wondered, thinking that maybe she had miscounted, maybe today was tax day and not next week.
"It's not tax day," David confirmed, wrapping an arm around Emma's waist. "Go inside and wake grandma."
"There isn't any time," Emma negated. The regular Black Knight was a generally good-mannered fellow, but his biggest peeve was when someone went inside while he was coming. The first time David had Emma go inside while the Black Knight came, he demanded Emma be brought back out, with the threat of taking her to fight in the army. When it happened again—David had heard the hooves before Douglas was even in view, but somehow he knew that Emma had been outside—he struck David, giving Emma's father a black eye, and warned that there would be further punishment should it happen again.
It had been warning enough.
David turned towards her, looking as if he was going to argue, but there was no time. The Black Knight was upon them. David's arm tightened around Emma; there was no use running now. Anyways, Emma thought, fear thickening in her mind, best not to involve grandma Ruth.
Emma had to admire the horse; she didn't know how a horse had developed such a rich, oily, black coat, but it was one of the most beautiful coat's she had ever seen. The horse's mane was smooth, had been brushed to silky perfection. Emma couldn't imagine that the mask was comfortable, however.
"The Queen demands an extra one and a half percent in taxes from all farmers on her land," The man told them, his voice deep and booming. Emma was appalled, but she dared not speak. The Queen's knights were known to be rough and cruel. His hand was already resting on the sword at his hip; Emma didn't want to give him a reason to draw it.
"One and a half percent?" David demanded, as outwardly appalled as Emma was inwardly. "How does she expect us to live?"
"That is no problem of the Queen's," the Black Knight replied, angling himself on the horse so that David and Emma could look directly into the dark depths of his eyes.
Emma recognized this Knight; he wasn't the one who came regularly to collect taxes. This one had eyes as dark as the horse's coat, a rounded jawline from too many sweets, and a generally cruel demeanor about him.
"May we inquire as to why there is such a sharp rise in taxes?" David asked, indignant.
"We've discovered a new territory that the Queen wishes to acquire; a land called Arendelle. They have many assets that the Queen believes would mesh nicely with our kingdom. The taxes will aid in strengthening our army and navy. The Queen thanks you for your contribution."
Emma was shocked and outraged. The Queen intended to use the money that was already barely putting food on their table to conquer some new land that wouldn't do anything for Emma and her family? She wanted to shout her indignation, but didn't want to put her family in further danger than was necessary. Inwardly, however, she was already plotting how she could help out her family monetarily.
David stood stone still. He seemed to be as angered about the news of war as Emma was. However, he simply nodded, and guided Emma back into the house so he could scrounge up whatever money they had left.
"How can they do this dad?" Emma whispered, wary of both waking Ruth and notifying the knight of their conversing. "We are already barely making it by as it is!"
David's jaw flexed as he counted out coins from his ever lightening coin pouch. "I don't know Emma." He turned towards Emma, fire in his eyes. "I promise you, we will get through this. I promise. Now stay here while I go out to pay him. Wake your grandmother."
Emma nodded quickly. David turned on his heel and hurried back outside. Emma watched him go, and then stalked towards the door to her room, ideas forming in her mind already. She would take back the kingdom—she would overthrow the Queen—she'd get a new job to support David and Ruth. She had to do something.
There was a gnawing feeling in her gut, a little voice that was telling her she needed to stop this, she needed to do something, take action against the Queen. It terrified her—she had never been all that brave, had always tended to stand behind her father rather than with him. But it shouldn't be that way, she realized. She should be the one standing up for her land, she should be the one—
Emma didn't know. But she sure as hell wanted to find out.
"Grandma," Emma shook Ruth's shoulder, "wake up, there's a Black Knight here," Emma whispered.
Ruth sat up quickly, awake at once. Ruth was an old woman, Emma didn't know how old, but she wore her age regally. Her hair was still in braids from sleeping, and her chocolate brown eyes were wide with trepidation. She glanced around the room, saw that the door was open and rushed up to close it.
"Emma, get under the bed, quickly!" Ruth urged, kneeling next to Emma. She tried to gently push Emma under the bed, but when Emma resisted, she increased her efforts.
"No, it's okay," Emma tried to reassure Ruth. "They're here to collect more taxes. The Queen wants to take some place called Arendelle by force."
"Oh dear," Ruth breathed, leaning against the bed frame next to Emma. "Oh no, what will we do?"
"We have to stop her," Emma replied, thinking that Ruth was speaking of the Queen trying to take Arendelle. Ruth glanced over at Emma, shocked.
"What will we do about our farm?" Ruth clarified. Then, appearing to have realized what Emma was getting at, she turned fully towards Emma. Grasping her hands, Ruth looked Emma directly in the eyes. "You mustn't think you can do anything to stop the Queen—there is nothing you could do, nor anything you should do, except try to keep our farm running."
"But grandma," Emma exhaled, trying to find the words to express how she felt about the subject. "I've always felt, as long as I can remember, that there's something wrong with my life—it's nothing that you or Dad have done, it's just this gut feeling that I should be doing more, somehow," Emma shook her head, squeezing Ruth's hands.
"Everyone feels that way, Emma" Ruth tried to console her. Emma shook her head again, glancing at the door. Her father had just entered the house.
"This is different," Emma assured Ruth. "I know what I'm going to do. Whatever it takes, I'm going to overthrow the Queen. I don't know how, but I will. She's a tyrant, and she doesn't deserve the throne. She doesn't deserve her people."
Ruth was shaking her head vehemently. "No, Emma. You must never talk about the Queen like that. She has ears and eyes everywhere. You must never try to oppose the Queen—you especially! Please, Emma, promise me you'll never mention this again, never mention her again,"
Emma hesitated, wondering where all the venom in her sweet grandmother's voice was coming from. There was steel in her voice and her grip; she wouldn't release Emma until she'd had Emma's word.
Emma lied. "Okay, grandma. I promise," she assured, looking away.
The truth was, Emma couldn't make that promise. A piece of her very soul was telling her that this was wrong, that she desperately needed to do something to dethrone the Queen—and she knew where her intuition was guiding her. To a man of myth. A man called the Dark One.
Author's Note: Okay, so this is my first wholly Once Upon a Time story, and I hope you enjoyed it!