In the pilot, we saw Snow's reaction to Emma and saying goodbye, but we weren't able to hear her thoughts. I wanted to try to tap into that and write the scene from her point of view. As always, feedback is greatly welcomed and appreciated, these characters are not my own, and enjoy reading :)
When I'd closed my eyes months before and dreamed of what this moment would be like– back before I knew of curses and wardrobes and my daughter's fate– I didn't imagine this.
It was just the two of us now. Doc left as soon as he placed her in my arms to secure the courtyard walls. I didn't really know what to do. I'd never been a mother before. Of course none of it mattered. Tomorrow this would be just a memory. But this was now and all I could think of was how little she weighed. And how she wouldn't cry, just yawn and coo and wave her fists. And how when she raised a hand the size of a rose petal to squeeze my finger, her grip was strong like ours. I buried my face in the blanket Granny had knitted– embroidered with her name in purple, my favorite color– and breathed in her smell, trying desperately to commit it to memory. She smelled sweet. She was so small and yet so solid and I knew I would carry her weight in my arms until the day I died. My hair tickled her nose and she opened her eyes for one brief bleary moment before closing them again. They were dark dark blue, but they would have turned green like mine. She didn't have any hair, but it would have come in light and curly, like his. I could see the beginnings of dimples in her cheeks. I had those. Despite my promise to Charming that I'd be strong, I felt tears welling in my eyes and threatening to spill onto my cheeks because she looked like me. Like him. Her face was barely the size of my fist and she looked like me. My eyes. My nose. My chin. His lips. His hair. His strength. She was mine, ours, all ours, and she looked like us and tomorrow all of this would be a memory.
"Emma."
I whispered her name, testing its weight on my tongue. I'd picked it out a lifetime ago. I liked the way it sounded. I liked the way it lilted on my tongue and lingered on my lips. And even when all of this would be a memory, I would always be able to say that name and remember this moment. Her. Emma.
She was curled up in a peaceful position drifting in and out of sleep without making any noise at all. She didn't whimper and she didn't cry. But after a few moments she grew distressed and fussy. She was hungry and she wanted to sleep and all I wanted was a few more minutes to commit her to memory so I'd have a memory. It wasn't fair.
Beside me, Charming lay on the bed with one arm around me and one hand on her head. She was so small, so tiny, that her head fit snugly into the palm of his hand. He rubbed my back, which ached, and stroked her cheek and planted a kiss on the top of her head. He whispered her name and I knew he was savoring the syllables like I had. Emma started to whimper, squirming and waving her hands and now gripping my finger with surprising strength. I blinked back tears as I pried away her grip.
"Shhh..." I hushed. "Mommy's here, it's okay." At the sound of my voice, she opened her eyes and quieted down. She stopped fidgeting and whimpering and stared up at me with hazy, unfocused eyes. I knew she couldn't really see me– she was too young for her eyes to focus properly– but it made my heart feel all the same.
"You're going to take a trip, my darling. You're going to go through a magical wardrobe made by a dear friend of ours, and you're going to begin your own adventure in another life. I'd hoped to go with you, but you were so eager to meet us you came early. And now you must continue to be strong. You'll never be alone, my love. You'll come for us one day, Emma. When you're much older, you'll come for us. And we'll be waiting."
I handed her to Charming, whose own face transformed as he took her in his arms and felt her weight and committed it to his own memory. He tucked a corner of the blanket more securely around her chin and lightly touched her lips with a careful finger, and I knew he was seeing the resemblance to his own. He smiled at her and at me and bent down to kiss me earnestly, tell me he loved me and let me touch her one last time.
"Goodbye Emma," I whispered, watching my husband carry my daughter away to a stupid wardrobe that would take her to a stupid land she'd grow up alone in. Where I wouldn't see her for twenty-eight years. Where I wouldn't be able to sing her to sleep, bandage her scraped knees, help her pick out a dress for her first ball, brush her hair, teach her to fire a bow or take her on adventures with her godmother, Red. All the things I had planned to do. It wasn't fair.
I waited until Charming was out of sight and out of earshot before putting my hands to my face and allowing myself, for one moment, to not be so strong. My back ached and my legs ached and my middle ached and my heart ached and I doubled over and let the hollow emotions in my body snake to the surface in the form of soul-shaking sobs. I wouldn't have my home, I wouldn't have my husband, and I didn't have my daughter.
It wasn't fair.