Summary: Decades after learning she's the Savior and the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, Emma finds herself a queen in her own right, with a pirate husband, royal siblings, and an entirely different life than she would've pictured when she was just twenty eight years old, blowing out a lonely candle on a cupcake.
AN: I thought why not put a something together for Emma, after the series? That girl needs a "happily ever after", why not give it to her? But I couldn't make the ride there too easy, because that's just not her style.
Her Happy Ever After
The gardens were dressed in pale blues and whites ribbons, with bright red roses blooming openly. A band played a soft tune in the background. Guests milled about, goblets of honey mead and red wine being served freely. The sun overhead was overcast by clouds, but in these lands, Emma expected it. It was barely sunny, even on the best of occasions.
Taking a deep breath, Emma marveled at the scene below her, and sighed.
It had been thirty years since Henry had found her, thirty years since she had blown out that candle, wishing to not be alone. It had been thirty years she had slain her first dragon, saved her parents and their friends and subjects from Regina's evil curse. It had only been thirty years since she had met her mother and father for the very first time – no longer an orphan, but becoming the Savior.
When she had broken the curse, she hadn't expected life to speed up so much afterward. She had fought Cora – the damn near Devil Incarnate in Emma's eyes – watching her mother kill the woman responsible for taking her own mother from her. She had fought, lost, won, and redeemed Regina – who now sat on her council as a trusted advisor – and also as her adoptive step-grandmother, as weird as it sounded. She had fought a giant and won their allegiance with her words; something David – her father – every day had congratulated her on and beamed it was what a true Queen and just leader would've done.
She traveled to Neverland to save her son, only to fight pixies, fairies, Lost Boys and an evil shadow; and proved her swordsmanship against them, with a pirate and exiled prince as her only trainers. It would be years later before she would acknowledge Hook - Killian - as anything other than an ally and friend.
Especially when she returned to her realm – the world without magic – to find it slaughtered and destroyed by enemies they didn't yet know about. Only a few had survived – Red, Whale, Belle, the dwarves, Granny and the Blue Fairy along with only a few handful of others had somehow managed to hide and live in the forest until their return. Hook had been a steady presence, helping her to help them to safety. Without any other home, they had retreated to the Enchanted Forest to heal and live to fight another day.
Emma wished that had been the end of her battle hardened days. Once they had returned to her parent's kingdom, they had to fight Ogres for their land back and rebuild everything all over again. And they had humans from her world that had traveled to their forest, bent on destroying magic and their kind to face. It had taken years – almost a decade – to keep their land safe and from harm.
During those days, Henry grew up. He became a man in what seemed like moments, riding with Emma toward the thick of battles, defending his new home – his family – with a passion that resembled the stories of her father battling Regina or King George. He was quick with a sword and deadly with a dagger; Emma was impressed and fearful for him. She knew he wanted this life, but the worry over his safety kept her up at night, even after the wars had come to a close. He craved adventure - something she was sure he had inherited from her side of the family.
On the day of the end of the wars, when their friends and troops were celebrating the last of the battles, Snow and Charming announced the birth of their second child – what Snow proclaimed would be a boy. At first, a then older and wiser Emma was completely devasated; they had just found each other, and with the constant battle of their lives, had only begun to know each other. It wasn't fair. Again, she felt like the orphan, not the product of True Love; she was a child whose parents deserved a second chance to be real parents and not just related through blood and genetics to a misplaced daughter. She was an outcast, becoming replaced.
But that quickly died away when David – he never really became Charming to her – pulled her aside to reconfirm their love for their oldest daughter.
Now, staring down at her young brother on his wedding day – a man younger than her own son – she felt her father's words true. Jonathan only knew their parents as they were – just rulers that loved their children and each other unconditionally. He grew up a prince; he knew how to ride a horse, shoot arrows, and was well practiced in diplomacy as befitting his station. His mother taught him how to talk, his father how to walk, and his big sister how to sneak out at night without the guards catching him. But he would never know his parents the way Emma had.
She knew them as friends first – creative, loving, strong and noble people – who cried over broken hearts and lost dreams. She saw them at their worst and best. She saved her mother from jail. She saved her father from death. She watched her mother – the good Snow White – murder a woman in anger. She saw her father lash out and strike men in battle and in the court when they made comments about Emma and her 'attitude'.
As David had said before Jonathan had been born, he would never know them the way Emma did. He wouldn't know of sacrifice, he wouldn't know of Emma's hard life before becoming a princess, or the distance they had felt caused by the curse; their love wasn't given freely, but forged through heartache and obstacles. It was more deserving and lasting. Emma carried a greater bond with her parents than anyone else ever would, and she felt it every day.
It didn't take long after for Emma to be excited for her younger brother's arrival; Snow's glow was contagious and she helped decorate the nursery for him. And she was just as excited when her sister Ruth was born only two years later. And her youngest brother Lance was born a short year after that – named in honor of Lancelot, one of her mother's most loved protectors - and the man responsible for their family.
They never named anyone after Graham though they discussed it. They did it out of respect for Emma.
And while she celebrated with her son, her large and growing family on Lance's first birthday, Emma had been faced with a choice – keep her first love, or to fight for her new love. Neal had returned into her life, becoming a fixture for Henry and fighting with her during their wars; together they made an impressive team and in some cases people thought they would become the family everyone wanted them to be. But did she want it?
It took a carriage ride with the pirate that ended with her fixing her corset (a contraption she detested but wore to appease Snow), Hook's pleas of redemption and also his stepping aside for Neal to propel Emma to take him by the black leather lapels and make him see what she wanted – what she needed. Him.
Neal hadn't been so understanding – but he had also seen their looks. Most of the court – Snow and Charming included – had felt the chemistry between them. After the wars, they had patrolled the lands together; by land and sea. In all that time, Emma had felt her emotions change for the pirate and nothing was going to stop her from keeping him as hers'.
They married that spring, on the deck of his infamous Jolly Roger, her father presiding over the ceremony, her son holding their rings (she had been given her mother's ring for the occasion – one that had belonged to her father's mother. When asked why Snow had given it to Killian to give to Emma, Snow had said her daughter deserved the ring that had brought her parents together.), and with Snow White giving her away. It was later that night a painted golden cradle had appeared in their room, a present from Rumplestiltskin.
Now, watching her brother be showered in flowers from her balcony, his dark haired bride holding on to him happily, Emma felt her smile grow in fondness. It had taken thirty years – wars, battles, hope, death and love – but she was now here, standing beside the handsome pirate prince (she never let him take the title of King – something that he still gripped about; but that had been her father's title, and she wasn't willing to let it go so easily), Henry in the middle of the commotion, and her ten year old daughter Moira by her side, holding her hand tightly.
She glanced down at her, staring into bright blue eyes – either from her grandfather or her father, Emma wasn't sure – and took in her curled long dark locks, swaying in the breeze. "What do you think, princess?"
Moira smiled brightly, dashing away to be with her older brother in the garden, pale yellow skirts fluttering behind her, and Emma felt the arm of her husband wrap around her waist. "Jonathan is a lucky man. Ella is a good match for him. If not a bit older."
"Age doesn't mean anything," she teased, reminding him of their vast age difference. "And Snow would be so happy to see it," she replied slowly, leaning into his warmth. It had only been a few months, but the pain of losing her parents – her mother first from disease, followed by her father only days apart from what everyone assumed was a broken heart– was raw and unrelenting. She was Queen now; and she was seeing her brother married without their support. She felt alone, like she had as a child in her foster parent's home all over again.
"Aye," he agreed, his accent soft in the waning daylight. The music had turned loud and joyous. "But your family is still here, Swan. Henry is here, Moira, your siblings." He nuzzled her neck lovingly. "Me."
She let a ghost of a smile cross her lips, and nodded knowingly. Her golden locks were streaked with grey, and her figure wasn't as petite as she remembered it; but she was Queen now, and wore her mother's crown proudly, reserving her father's for when Henry would someday take the throne. "I know. I just miss them."
"They're never far, love." He gestured to the sky, eyes flashing with something else. Something that spoke of his years – something he had seen in his long life that she hadn't been privy to knowing. "They found each other in life. They found you without memories of who you were to them. I'd be willing to bet they haven't left you, not yet. If anything, they always find their loved ones, even in death."
"You're right," Emma replied, turning to face him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, draped in a deep red fabric – the color she was to wear for the first year as a new monarch due to tradition (something she never cared about but knew Snow would be pleased she was doing it anyway) – and pulled him close. "They always find the ones they love, and never leave them when in need."
He flashed her a wicked smile, one that still made her knees buckle. "They're not the only ones, darling." And his lips landed on to her soft ones, as the crowd below rang out in cheers; whether it was over their display of love – that their people loved to see as it was similar to her parents' relationship - or the newly married couple, they didn't know. And they didn't really care, either.
AN: Emma deserved a happy ending. Even if this isn't what will come to be, it's nice to imagine. Right?