A/N: Started writing this right after Heart is a Lonely Hunter aired, so not everything with canon compatible, though I will try my best.

Prologue: The Spell, and the Princess

The day that Prince James, called "Charming", kissed Snow White and broke the Evil Queen's spell, the ripples spread throughout the entire kingdom. All the peoples, from the peasants in the village to the fairies in the woods, were free to move about their lives again, free of the Queen's wrath and sorcery.

Well almost all. For magic often has a tendency to remain, and though the Queen was stripped of her power, those affected by her most evil of spells, continued to hurt.

Those who had offended her the most, she had stolen their very beating hearts.

And since no one else, not even her personal guards knew of this, those hearts remained locked away beneath the palace, all boxed in neat little rows. The Queen of another land remained icy cold, the wise old woman of the north woods remained cruel, even the Queen of the forest fairies herself remained as ruthless as ever.

And as for the one kept closest to her, the young hunter raised in the woods himself, he could only quietly nod and head toward his former home when Queen Snow spoke to him. She said that if he desired to stay at the palace, they would find a place for him, but if he wanted to return to the woods, he would not be persecuted for anything he did under her stepmother's rule. The brave and kind girl whom he had spared in the forest had morphed into a confident and gracious woman. But the empty void in his chest remained unmoved, so he turned and left, left the stark, cold palace that had been his prison for so many years, returning to his brother and sister wolves, a shell of the man he was.

He thought it for the best that way.

Even only a few days old, reaching out to the sunny window while still in her mother's arms, Princess Emma was never a girl content to stay still. When she learned to walk, she quickly moved on to running, tearing about the gardens and the castle as though being chased by a bear, climbing anything she could find. It was not uncommon for a servant, sometimes empty-handed, sometimes carrying food or other spillables, to turn a corner and be tossed head over heels by a collision with the golden haired child, once again failing to look carefully ahead of her. These were always smoothed over by Snow, with an apology, and a gentle insistence that Emma help clean whatever mess she had caused.

Indeed, more alike in personality than most would realize, Snow loved her daughter. She called the girl her little bird, always flitting from place to place, but as she showed her, like the bluebirds and doves that nested near the chamber windows and in the stables, always coming home to roost. Every morning, Snow would braid Emma's hair, the elaborate loops keeping her sun-colored curls neat no matter how much running she did, and tell her stories. Stories of the creatures of the woods, fairies, trolls and unicorns. Stories of princesses from far off lands, and a few whose kingdoms were closer. Stories of clever commoners, trickster beasts, brave princesses and valiant knights, and how help comes to those who help themselves, and happy endings for those who persevered.

As Emma grew, she crashed less and less. But she remained on the move, always searching and exploring. She adored riding with her mother on her horse Bluebell, dancing with the girls from the village, and racing with the servant's sons in the yard.

Lessons left her fidgeting and bored. It wasn't that she was unintelligent; in fact she was quite a quick learner. But the vagaries of history and the complexities of economic theory and political relationships seemed so unimportant when it was sunny outside and there was a whole world out there.

She did, however learn quite a lot. From her mother, about the birds and the animals, how to ride, how to survive.

"Just in case" Snow always said, soothing her ever worried husband's fears for his daughter. They rarely spoke of the jaunts Snow and Emma took into the forest on horseback. Trips that made Emma suspect that secretly her mother carried as much of an itchy foot as she did.

From her father, how to handle a sword, and a dagger and the importance of being good to people, all people.

"Good or bad fortune may strike anyone at any time, and fortune is indeed a cruel mistress" ending the stories of his boyhood spent as a shepherd with his mother. Though he spoke of the hardships they faced, his wistful face gave away the fond memories of days gone by. Emma hoped, at least, that he considered her and her mother good fortune.

While the palace was her home, Emma always longed for the world around her. The little villages and market towns, and the rural farming communities that made up most of her parents kingdom held so much more appeal than the walls of home. And none more than the mountains as high as the clouds and the forests that stretched as far as the eye could see. Her rides with her mother could only go so far before they must turn for home, with so much of the world still unexplored. It was these, the realm of trees and streams, the home of beasts both mundane and magical, which held Princess Emma's heart.

And soon, her destiny."