A/N: Trying my hand at writing after a long hiatus... OUaT seriously sparked my muse! Apologies for any discrepancies in the storyline from here on out, I'm taking a bit of artistic liberty regarding the Charming Family history. This will be an ongoing story! Much love 3
"Snow… the wardrobe only takes one." Charming slowly lifted his gaze to meet that of his wife; their eyes shone with unshed tears. The queen was rocking slowly, a toddler sleeping soundly atop the swelling mound of her developing pregnancy. Only two years of age, the girl was still small enough to be cradled in the crook of her mother's arm. Snow stroked her daughter's dark locks, bending slightly to press a kiss to her temple.
The young royals now had a choice. "I can't do this, Charming. We cannot condemn our family." Beneath her hand, the child stirred, furrowing deeper into the material of Snow's nightwear. Light from the hallway glowed across her face, illuminating thick lashes spread over fair skin, and a chin to match that of her mother.
"You can go through, with Emma, while you are still pregnant. She can have her best chance, love," He paused, brushing his wife's damp cheek with the padding of his thumb. The thought of dividing his family hurt more than the gravest of flesh-wounds. "I'll protect her, Snow, we'll be together. I'll always protect our Juliette."
Raw, bleeding fingers scraped along the dirt floor, digging for her memories of happier times. A birthday cake, a Sunday dress; a little boy whose face she hadn't witnessed in ages, yet whose voice punctuated the silence, pulled her from the brink of madness.
She knew little of who she was, where she'd been, but for the names she'd heard uttered from the woman, her keeper. Princess, she'd been called. Daughter, sister. Those words meant little to her out of context, in a mind void of faces with which she could associate them.
The candle had burned out days ago…or had it been this morning? For all she knew, the darkness had lasted weeks, or months. An immeasurable amount of time had cultured film beneath her eyelids, sprouted rust along her joints. Darkness ensconced her. She was alone.
"You found us!"
Twenty-eight years after the curse hit, and Snow White-turned-Mary Margaret Blanchard (or was it the other way around?) was clutching her grown child for dear life. Nearly three decades had slipped by, trapping her in the solitary mind of a stranger, stripping her of motherhood and wifehood. She had seen her husband married to another woman, watched her daughter flourish into the savior she was destined to be, blissfully unaware that the people she loved most were just barely out of her grasp. A strong, reassuring arm snaked around her back, with a matching hand gently cupping their daughter's head. The family was complete.
"Grandpa?" Snow was torn from her musings, peering over her daughter to find her student— no, grandson, standing before them. A giggle escaped her lips. Moments ago, she had become a mother, and now she was a grandmother!
Charming leaned down, awe-struck as he inspected the boy. "Yeah kid… I suppose so." Grandfather enveloped grandson into a hug, incorporating him into the tight mass of a family reunion.
"She did it," Henry realized slowly, "she saved us!"
A burst of warmth blossomed in Snow's heart. "She saved all of us," she interjected, smiling through a fresh batch of unshed tears. However, gazing upon her beautiful second-born, the last cobwebs of Mary Margaret's haze dissipated, reminding the queen of the final missing piece in their familial puzzle.
"Juliette," she gasped softly, eyes flicking to her husband's. "Charming, where is Juliette?" Phantom pains burned the muscles of Snow's arms, a sudden ache to hold the toddler she'd left behind. Twenty eight years was far too long to miss either of her babies… even if she'd been unaware that she had children at all.
Three sets of eyes gazed upon her. "Who is Juliette?" Emma asked slowly, frowning in question. It dawned on Snow that her youngest had no recollection of her older sister, no history to be restored once the curse was broken. There were stories Emma had lived, their entire family had lived, to which her daughter was not privy…After all, Henry's book only covered the bare bones of the lives they previously held.
"Emma," Charming started, "this may come as a surprise, but you've an older sister… Although I don't suppose she's aged a day since the curse struck, so she's technically…she isn't your elder anymore, huh?" He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief at the apparent disruption in chronological continuity.
"Stranger things have happened today," Emma offered sarcastically.
The Savior sucked in a shaky breath, looking not to her parents, but to her son for confirmation. Henry shook his head. "But… she wasn't in the book. There was no Juliette, Miss Blan—grandma!" His head shook again, a look of confusion morphing into one of deep concentration.
Blood turned to ice in Snow's veins. "Charming," she whispered, another tear dripping down the slope of her cheeks. The king's hand found hers, and she grasped it with the last ounce of strength she could muster. Somewhere in this town, her daughter was waiting for her, but where? Their baby, their first-born, alone like her sister had also endured.
A smaller hand tugged at her remaining free appendage, as her musings were once again interrupted. "Juliette, you said?" Henry's expression was eager, and hole flickered in Snow's chest. "Juliette, Juliette… Juliette!" The boy's eyes bugged out from his skull, mouth agape.
"What is it, Henry?" David asked eagerly, crouching down to meet his grandson at eye-level. Henry shook his head in disbelief.
"I…I know her," he said softly, a far-out intonation in his voice registering his presence in a memory acquainted only with him. "You've got to come with me."
Grasping his mother's hand, Henry set off at a quickened pace, leading his newfound family straight to Storybrooke's graveyard.
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