Author's Note: This story will be very AU, very OOC, and very depressing. Trigger warnings will be provided at the beginning of each chapter. SwanQueen will be implied.
On the day she was taken, the sky was not yet black.
But let us return to a happier moment, where no such blackened sky loomed overhead.
The girl was but eighteen and had long, flowing blonde hair that draped down past her shoulders. It was the envy of her female peers, and one of the many objects of the lust of young men. Among other attributes, her radiant smile illuminated what had become dark and dismal days, filled with much despair. Another such feature was her sparkling eyes, bright and vivacious - full of life.
Though many young women were filled with covetousness, she had many friends who both admired and despised her beauty. But to this, the girl was oblivious. Her smile was unending, and her worries were none, even in the blackest of times.
Families had been reduced to rubble by economic hardship, but though her own family struggled like many others, they managed to get by. Germany had suffered a great blow after World War I, and as such, ration cards were handed out to each household, limiting the food they could purchase. And the prices steeply increased with each passing day. When the second world war began, the people were hopeful, though the outcome looked bleak. When Adolf Hitler rose to power, it was a Godsend. Once again, the people believed that Germany could rise.
But the war did not concern the girl. Her life marched ever onward, even through the ashes.
Her mother ran a washing business out of their home, cleaning the clothes of the wealthier members of society for little but sufficient money. Emma Swan - for that was her name - was a good Catholic girl, and she was required to help her mother in her tasks. She collected the wash from her employers' houses and delivered it clean and without wrinkles. This meant that her shy mother was rarely required to leave the house. The girl even went out to gather what little groceries they could afford. Often, it was only the ingredients for a meager, watery soup. Even this did not bother her. She was grateful to be of assistance. Her father showed approval of her completed chores each night upon returning home from his job as a factory worker, which was mostly what she sought. He was - though he didn't say it - proud.
When she wasn't assisting with the laborious household tasks, she was socializing with friends. They would sit on the steps of one of their houses, giggling stories of encounters with boys, as though they were young girls in primary school again. But through these, Emma smiled and stayed silent. She had little to say, for her experiences with young men were few, if any. All advances were denied - to the dismay of her mother, who expected grandchildren quickly - and there certainly were plenty. She found herself empty, with a strange lack of attraction to the opposite sex, though she couldn't explain why. Perhaps, she reasoned, she wasn't meant to marry or bear children.
This thought was the only one that ached inside her. Her mother's expectations wore down on her like heavy steel, and she felt their burden each day she woke, and each night she went to sleep. Marriage was expected of her, as were children. And not just from her mother. From the Fürer - the charismatic leader of their country. Young German girls were meant to reproduce, to contribute strong men who would one day fulfill their patriotic duty by serving their great nation. When I find the right boy, Emma told herself. But something inside her warned her the day would never come. Perhaps she was simply pessimistic and self-doubting. But perhaps she was right.
When she wasn't spending time listening to her friends gossip about boys, she was joining them in doing her part to serve their country. The Fürer had made it explicitly clear that every able-bodied, aryan young person was to participate in the Hitlerjugend (Hitler Youth), a small army of adolescents being trained to serve the German cause and promote the Master Race. This took place every day after school, where they learned to march, to hail the Fürer, and to excel at athletics, which Emma did easily. She was unparalleled in sports and nearly all other kinds of physical activities, far surpassing her peers - even some of the boys.
Having come of age, it was to be her last year in the group. Little did Emma know, she would never graduate from the program. Given that she was in the group of older girls, she was appointed leader of the others, and was trained to give strict, harsh commands. Though she didn't enjoy barking out severe, sometimes cruel and demeaning orders, she felt it her duty and completed each task to the best of her ability anyway. She had become a shining star in the program, and the commanding officers were greatly impressed by the promise she showed. Luckily for Emma and her social life, few of the girls resented her brutality, understanding all too well that it was expected of her. Thus, she kept her friends close and rarely spent moments alone.
Her afternoons ended with, "Heil Hitler."
Most days, it was a relatively large group of girls she passed the rest of the afternoon with, but sometimes, it was one girl in particular that she spent her time with, and she often welcomed the girl for dinner to share what little they had for a meal. As close as ion bonds, they rarely left each other's side. Given that the girl was more subdued and well-mannered than Emma, the girl's mother appreciated this and was more than thankful for the times when her friend was around.
"Eat, dear. Eat!" Emma's mother urged the girl, pushing her bowl of soup a little closer to the edge of the table where the girl was sitting.
"I'm full, ma'am," she said politely. "Really."
Emma laughed and rudely reached beside her, grabbing the bowl away.
"That's fine. I'll have seconds!"
"Emma!" her mother scolded her, reaching across to snatch the bowl away. "Let the girl eat! She's practically wasting away, Schatzi! Share!"
"Nein. Ich hab keine Lust," Emma teased. "I don't feel like it."
It was true, though. The girl was practically wasting away. She was thin and malnourished, given that her family was relatively poor, and there was little food to go around. This was partly why Emma enjoyed having her for dinner. Seeing her eating made the guilt subside, at least for a little while. That being the case, it happened often. Also, Emma treasured the girl's company, knowing all too well that a true friend was hard to come by.