King David sat perched on his throne, the room dark save for the lantern placed at his foot. He leaned back in contemplation, the plush upholstery of the throne a luxury against his weary back, his deep sigh echoing through the cavernous space; his was face weathered by age and laugh lines. It was times like this that he felt a sharp pang in heart, missing his late wife beyond belief. Elizabeth was a wonderful stepmother to his daughter, but Snow would always be her mother.
He clutched the missive in his hand, not knowing how to break the news to Elizabeth. Despite promising to never hide things from her, this was news he knew would break her. He couldn't bear to see her in pain, watch as she lost herself in her grief, much like he imagined she would. They had both been broken when they'd first met, a marriage arranged between their two kingdoms, him agreeing because of pressure from the council for an heir, and her because of her father's coercion. Neither entered the marriage sharing love, but with changing time, so did their feelings. Even though Snow will never stop being his True Love, never stop having a hold on his heart, he had learnt to move on from his grief. There were many days he still missed her, the pangs in his chest just as painful as the day she left them; but he knew that this was what Snow would have wanted. For him to find love again, for him to be the King only she believed he could be.
Ever since he'd re-married fifteen years ago, Emma had been fully supportive, understanding not just the political pressures and need for a male heir to the throne, but how much he craved the intimacy that existed only in such a relationship. She had been so strong in the face of her mother's death, supported him during his grief - which had seemed endless - in his anger, his pain. Stood by him at every moment, offering the support in a way only Emma could. And over the years, she blossomed into a wonderful young woman, one he was proud of, and knew that Snow would have been too. Despite having lost her mother at such a young age, Emma never resented Elizabeth, the both of them sharing a very special bond, much like two friends. He couldn't help but smile, thinking back to all the times he had fallen prey to the wiles of those two women, combined.
David was drawn from his reminiscence when he heard the large doors to the throne room creak open, his expression softening as he watched his Queen approach him, draped in her dressing gown, her eyes puffy from sleep and her mouth set in a thin line, her raven hair in tumbling curls down her back – a woman much different than the one she revealed to anyone else. This gentler, walls-down version was reserved only for him and Emma. He smiled, holding out his hand for her; Elizabeth pulled herself up the dais to the throne, taking her designated seat next to him. He wished to hold her close, hoping to stay in this moment for relative peace, before he was forced to reveal the real cause for his turmoil. And once he did, he was sure to lose her.
"Must you steal yourself from our bed in the middle of the night, Your Majesty?" Elizabeth asked, her voice soft and teasing, breaking him from his wild thoughts.
"Apologies, my dear," he smiled endearingly at her, squeezing the hand he still held in his own. "I seem to have lost track of time."
Her brows furrowed in worry, turning to see him properly. The low light of the lantern throwing shadows across his face, his laugh lines more prominent, the whites in his short stubble glowing red. "David," she began, her tone reflecting her concern, "What troubles you? This isn't like you."
"I heard back from the physician," he relented, feeling her tense next to him, and turned more fully to face her, eager to reassure her. "It's going to be fine, Liz," he soothed, his free hand cupping her cheek. "It will be fine. I promise you."
"What did it say?" she demanded, her expression stony, and her grip on his hand tightening. "Was it what we-"
"Yes," he answered her before she could finish the sentence, not ready to hear the words out loud. His eyes burned with sudden tears, watching as she struggled to hold back her emotions, always the strong one. "Liz..." he began, unable to form the right words to comfort his wife.
"I'm fine," she whispered, her voice rough like gravel. "We expected this news, David. I am prepared to deal with whatever comes next."
Elizabeth's hand slipped from his, his heart clenching as he watched her close herself off from him. "Don't do that; don't pull away from me," he implored, getting up to follow her.
She whirled around, her eyes shining with angry tears. "David, I need a moment, and I would be grateful if you could grant me that," she snapped, her hands clenched at her sides.
"No. You're my wife, and you're in pain," he protested, stopping her with a hand on her arm. "I will not lose yet another person I love."
"You're not losing me, David. I am right here, aren't I? I am by your side, despite everything. But right now, I need a moment. I did what was right all those years ago. I love you, but I don't love only you. Just like I'm not the only one to hold your heart. You must understand, please." Her voice went from stern to pleading, breaking at the end with barely restrained pain.
He felt a flash of hurt at her words, but remembered how she never let it his enduring love for Snow bother her; if anything, he owed her that much. He swallowed thickly, letting her go. "I'll have a carriage ready for you at dawn, then," he promised.
Elizabeth smiled despite her pain, drawing him towards her and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you for understanding. I-I cannot thank you enough for this, David."
He held her closer, already feeling like her heart was far from here. "Always, darling. I do love you."
"I do love you as well," she whispered. She pulled back, "What are we going to tell Emma?"
"Why can't we tell her the truth?"
"Not about this, David. We talked about it. She can't know about it," Elizabeth sighed, weary of having the same conversation.
"She wouldn't think any differently of you, I promise. She loves you," David tried, but she just shook her head.
"I must go and pack. We will tell her I need to visit with a friend, and leave it at that."
David couldn't help but feel conflicted, watching as his wife left him alone once again.
-/-
"Oh, do you really need to go, Lizzie?" Emma murmured, hugging her stepmother tight. "I shall miss you!"
"I'll be back as soon as I can, darling. I promise you." Elizabeth squeezed her tighter, before pulling back and wiping the tears from her stepdaughter's cheeks. "Now, you better not miss any of the council meetings. With me gone, you should help your father with the council, yes?"
Emma rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "I really hate those meetings. They bore me to death with the politics."
"You're the Crown Princess. Remember what I've always told you, follow your heart-"
"-but not at the cost of my people, I know," Emma sighed. "It's really unfair. They will look to me, with you gone. I'm not sure I'm up for the task." She ducked her head, her blonde ringlets falling to cover her face.
Elizabeth lifted Emma's chin with her finger, her other hand, pushing her hair away from her face. "Never hide yourself away, Emma. You need to believe in yourself, because your father and I do. You're smart, strong and beautiful. We couldn't be more proud of the woman you've become. And when the time comes, you'll make a wonderful Queen."
"But not to our people." Emma muttered with a frown, remembering the ruling of the council against a woman taking the throne.
Elizabeth looked impassive for a moment, her lips spread thin, before she smiled tightly, "You never know what life holds in store for you, darling. All I know is, you, Princess Emma, are meant for great things, grand adventures and all that," she waved her hand in a flippant manner, making Emma's sour look turn into a grin. "Chin up, alright?"
"Yes, stepmother," she replied, albeit a little sardonically, earning her an eyeroll from Elizabeth.
"I shall miss you, and your shenanigans, Emma," she chuckled, pulling the younger woman into her arms for a last embrace, before she climbed into her carriage. "Take care of your father," she added, shooting a glance at her husband, who stood brooding behind Emma, his arms crossed and brows pulled together. But when he noticed her stare, his glare softened, and he raised his hand in farewell.
And at that moment she knew, while he may have his apprehensions about her leaving, and might even want to stop her, he understood. Because he would have done the same if it had been Snow. David may not have been her first love, and she may not love him as deeply, but she loved him nevertheless, and leaving him, even though it was her decision, made her feel a heavy weight in her breast. But instead of running back to him, much like she longed to do, her longing to visit her old friend was just as fierce. So, she simply smiled, waved and rode off, leaving her husband and stepdaughter behind, looking back until they were too far to see.
-/-
Emma sighed, turning back to her father, sharing a bittersweet smile with him and walked back inside. David watched as she went past him, his throat constricting because of the news he's been keeping from her. Protecting the women in his life from bad news seems to have become a pattern now. He knew that she had a right to know, it was about her life after all, but a big part of him avoided telling her, seeing her still as a young child, not as a woman grown of four and twenty years.
Elizabeth had told him the sooner he'd confessed to Emma, the less likely she was to react in badly, but he simply pushed her concerns aside, hoping he could reason with the council. Alas, it had been two months of negotiations, and the end result was the same – Emma must be married or at least betrothed by the end of the year. Then, and only then, would the crown remain in the family - with Emma ruling alongside her new husband in the event of David's death. Otherwise, the council would be 'forced' to appoint a new successor.
David and Snow had fought against this rule from the day they were wed, wanting to allow some leniency for their heirs, but as archaic as the council was, the plea was swatted aside, never to be tolerated no matter how many times they'd brought it up. And when Snow passed away, the council backed away from his personal life for a while, focusing more on the land and policies. But they came back, urging David to remarry, to produce a male heir to take over the throne. Now they were back again, like hounds in pursuit of the fox, bloodthirsty and looking for any signs of weakness.
Ever since Snow's demise, Emma had become very reclusive, closing herself off from love, believing that that would be the only way to protect herself from feeling that same pain he'd gone through. She hadn't left his side, refusing to leave him alone, needing the constant reassurance that her father was still with here, the sudden loss of her mother too much of a shock for her young heart to bear. And in many ways Emma's need to be close to him, saved him from drowning in his own grief. Emma grounded him, made him want to live on, and bring her up the way his late wife would have wanted – the life she'd wished for Emma, all the confessions she had made to him in the cover of the night, the shadows dancing on her face from the crackling fire; the whispered conversation about all her hopes and dreams for Emma still remained etched in his memory.
All those years ago, he'd made a promise to Snow – and later to Emma, when she'd come of age – that he would never allow the council to gamble with Emma's love. And for so long, he'd fought tooth and nail to keep that promise. But the more support the council garnered, the more tenuous became his hold on the crown. He'd be damned if it fell in the hands of the Duke of Estiven (the Northern Lands of Misthaven), Bravian, who also happened to be the President of the Council of Misthaven, the representatives of the Crown selected by the people. It was the regime that the Late King Leopold has brought in, and David wished to honour it. But with men like the Duke, a cunning man with a taste of power, it was harder to understand the reasoning behind King Leopold's decision. David always believed that a man who sought ultimate power was far more dangerous than a man who sought ultimate riches. Power was an enticing mistress, addictive and relentless, leaving you wanting more with no regard to the consequences.
He couldn't let a man like him control the land that remained in his wife's family for centuries – one that his late father-in-law had died protecting, one that Snow had worked tirelessly for. If not for himself, he owed to his family, both past and present – and his people – to protect them from a tyrannous ruler. Even if it meant doing something that would disappoint them.
David let out a shuddering breath, looking up at the cloudless sky, the blue stretching endlessly. With Elizabeth gone away, and the weight of his guilt, he couldn't help but wish for some of Snow's everlasting hope. He could use that now; use her light to guide him through this very bleak and dark period. He'd vowed his allegiance to this land the day he'd married Snow, and he feels like he'd let both Misthaven and Snow down.
"What do I do now, Snow?" he breathed out in a broken whisper, with silence the only thing he got in response. The part of him that'd always felt that Snow was watching over them seemed to diminish with every passing day.. He shook his head, clearing his mind and went to find his daughter. He had something to tell her, after all.
-/-
Emma flipped through her stepmother's daily planner, noting all the duties that she was expected to take over in Elizabeth's absence. Although she had been trained to take over at a moment's notice, it was still jarring now that she had to actually do it. As glad as she was to still have her father to rely on, she was also extremely unsure about her own ability as a leader. As a Princess, most of her duties were basal, nothing that would require her to make imperative decisions for the people.
But if she hoped to ever be a good Queen one day, even if not the people of Misthaven, she must learn how to be one. Just as she decided to venture back to her suite and plan for the upcoming weeks, unsure about when Elizabeth would return, the doors to opened, her father's head peeking through the gap.
"Papa." She smiled warmly. "Can I help you?"
"Hello, Sweetheart." He grinned back, walking over to stand next to her. His eyes trained on the planner she'd been looking at; David's fingers tracing his Lizzie's neat and curling hand across the parchment.
"I need to tell you something, Emma; and I'm afraid that it's not very pleasant." He sat heavily on a nearby chair.
Emma's posture stiffened, dread curling in her gut. "Whatever it is, you can tell me, Papa," she assured, raising her chin regally.
Emma already had a feeling about what it could be. She knew that there was a lot of friction between the council and her King and Queen. In the meetings that she was allowed to sit in on, she could gather that it had to do with her unwed status. In this land, a lady of four and twenty who had still not a found a husband was unheard of, much less when said lady was a Princess. But she'd hoped to all the Gods that it wasn't the case. She couldn't bear to give up on the one thing she had a freedom to choose - love.
"I tried, Emma. I did my best, but we just received a missive about King George gaining more power, he's roped in the Southern Isles, and more than ever we need to stand united, all of us in the North of the Enchanted Forest. We need more manpower and-"
"Father," she interrupted, her voice cold and expression stony, making David suck in a sharp breath. "We both know what this builds up to. The council wants..." She let out a heavy breath, swallowing down her disappointment. "You want me wed."
"Emma, darling, no. That is not true. I want you to have your free will, you know that," he protested, rising swiftly from his seat.
"I meant you, my King, not the part of you that is my father," she clarified, moving closer to him, her hands grabbing his. "I know that as my father, this is the last thing you want. But as a King, you should have married me off to a stronger kingdom ages ago. We need the power to fight this war, and I do respect that."
David's vision blurred, his eyes searching his daughter's, the same glass green ones she'd inherited from Snow, seeking to find any sign of resistance, any sign that Emma was not fully alright with this. But she looked back at him, almost defying him to question her decision, her walls up and locking him out. Not for the first time, he wondered just what he was getting his daughter into. He wished she would trust him enough to tell him how she really felt, but Emma had always been the kind of person who would never willing let anyone see her weak, not even her own father. He squeezed her hands, "You don't have to do this," he whispered, his gaze never leaving her daring ones.
She cleared her throat, her posture becoming less rigid and her expression softening slightly, allowing him a glimpse at her own turmoil, breaking his heart. "I do," she sighed. "Mother would have wanted that, too."
"Never," he protested vehemently, his voice rough with guilt and disappointment at himself, for being weak, for letting his family down. "Your mother would sooner fight in the war herself than allow you to marry for anything but love." He pulled her into his arms, his one arm tight around her shoulder, while his unoccupied hand cradled the back of her head, much as he did when she was a child. "I am so sorry for putting you in the position, Emma."
"We all need to pay our dues, father. This is what is expected of me. I do however have one request, before I agree," she added, standing to her full height. David's heart squeezed with pride at the wonderful leader his daughter had grown into.
"Anything."
"Allow me an audience with the council, papa. Perhaps they might listen to reason from their princess than they would from their...tenacious king," she tried, smiling as he grimaced at the word 'tenacious'.
"Darling, if you could charm them into changing the law, then by all means. I shall set up a meeting at the earliest. However, you need to know how these men think-"
"Father, you grossly underestimate me. Who said anything about charming them? They are men of law, are they not? Well, we have the biggest library in all of Misthaven, and we have Belle, who knows all of the laws like the back of her hand. Between the three of us, perhaps we could change this archaic rule." And in that moment, with Emma's eyes full of hope, he saw the answer he was seeking from the skies outside. Snow wasn't anywhere outside, she was here, living and breathing, in their daughter.
"My darling girl, you never cease to surprise me," he chuckled, leading her out of the room and towards the library. They had a bit of research to get to, after all.
-/-
After an entire morning spent looking through the heavy volumes on the laws of Misthaven, Emma took a respite, excusing herself from the company of her father and musty books. Now that she had sent word to Belle to return to the castle, she could await her arrival, knowing that Belle's unparalleled mastery of all legal matters would be of immense help in their endeavour.
She walked towards a broken-down greenhouse, which encompassed a now decrepit garden. Emma's fondest memories of her childhood were spent in this garden, especially in spring time, back when her mother had still been alive. She loved spending time with her mama here in their own little nook of a garden, far away from the castle grounds, something which was all theirs and theirs alone. This had been a tiny haven for Snow to shed the airs of a Queen, and simply revel in being a mother.
The garden had flourished under Snow's care; Emma could still hear the ghost of her mother's laughter echo within the enclosed space as she knelt down at the stone marker her mother had placed there, mere weeks before her untimely death. A reminder for my darling girl, she'd claimed, when young Emma has questioned her about it.
Emma's fingers trembled as she traced the letters etched into the stone, a lone tear slipping down her face.
"To my darling girl, let it forever remain spring in your heart."
When Emma saw the bright petals beginning to fall on a cold, autumn day, the colours all fading to brown, the little girl cried, hugging her mama's leg, thinking that the colours were gone forever. Snow laughed despite herself, the mind of her child fascinating her beyond anything.
She picked up Emma, twirling her around the leaf strewn garden, until her tears of sadness turned to those of laughter.
"Mama, stop," Emma shrieked, her arms tight around Snow's neck. "Mama!" She giggled as her mother kept spinning her around.
"Alright, alright, my sweet girl." Snow chuckled, finally stopping and putting her down. She bent down to Emma's level. "Now, I know that you're sad that the colours are gone. But if they never go away, you'll never realise how much you love them, right?" Snow smiled softly at a slightly subdued Emma. "Cheer up, honey. They will always come back, but remember, it will always remain spring, right here," she pointed to Emma's heart, before tickling her and making her giggle again.
Emma shook herself from the memory, brushing the tears away from her face. There was a reason she rarely came here; most of the memories she could recall with her mother were spent in this garden. That was why she'd let it go, watching as her mother's beloved garden withered away, much like her own memories of Snow did.
For so long, Emma had thought that avoiding this place would help her deal with the loss of her mother better, but being back here after so long, brought up the guilt that she always felt whenever she came here (as infrequent as her visits might be). She swept off the dried plants from the stone marker, vowing to bring spring back there.
"I'm sorry, mama," she whispered, and she could swear she felt the wind pick up for a moment before everything was still again. This was the sign she didn't know she needed, a sign that her mother would always be with her, no matter what.