Damn it fandom, every time I think I'll write serious angst it turns into fluff! This is no exception and is the result of a request from someone who wanted Princess!Emma and the Huntsman to be reunited.
So angst sap and fluff ahoy!
Being a Princess was a royal pain in the ass.
Tromping through the woods, Emma swore colorfully as her gown snagged and her hair came out of its pile of pins. The idea that she was a royal was insane. The only thing remotely royal about her was the fact that she was a royal disaster. Good at balls was another thing she could add onto the growing list of royal shit she was awful at.
Apparently being a Princess was much much harder than Henry's stupid book made it seem.
Which should have been no surprise, all things considered, but still came as a wildly unpleasant shock. When her feet weren't sore from the weirdly made shoes her ribs ached from the fact that every stupid dress had a stupid corset which had to be laced stupidly tight. And when her feet and her ribs didn't hurt or her scalp didn't ache from her hairstyles, then her head was spinning from what she had to learn to rule a kingdom.
And the whole having a family thing was weird.
Thankfully it was just as weird for Mary-Snow White and James 'Charming'. They had been so busy with the preparations for the wardrobe that they hadn't had time to get used to having a child. And when they had her, as Snow tearfully told her, they held her for all of ten minutes before she was spirited off to the wardrobe. They were trying to be a family and that made it somewhat easier, the fact that they were all in this together, but it was still weird and confusing.
Coming to rest in a clearing, Emma sucked in as much air as her compressed lungs would let her. Today's gown was of the palest blue chiffon, embroidered with crystals that turned her into a shimmery, sweaty mess. Her chest might have been pushed up by the corset but her lower half was lost to the volumes skirt, skirts that were torn on the underbrush. Swearing Emma leaned back against the tree and tried not to think of how her Aunt Ella was going to look when she saw the state of her gown. Emma frowned as she felt eyes on her. The last thing she needed was someone seeing her like this again. Forcing her eyes open, Emma turned her head to look at the person, only to find there was no person.
It was a wolf that was looking at her.
A wolf with one red and one black eye.
Emma couldn't stifle the startled gasp that was torn from her throat as she jumped to her feet. The wolf panted but made no move to run from her. Instead it stepped forward, coming to the hem of her dress and sniffing at the torn fabric. Emma knew that when she heard the branch break it was his way of letting himself be heard. He could move silently but he wanted her to hear, he didn't want her to be surprised. But surprise was the only thing she could feel. Surprise so all consuming she thought her own heart was going to stop in her chest.
And then he came around the corner and the world was lost to the tears that filled her eyes.
"I am so sorry," he said, his accent thick as ever, "he's perfectly friendly, I promise," his lips pursed and he whistled, "come here boy," the wolf turned and padded back to him, "I apologize if he frightened you-"
She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She was paralyzed. If there was one thing that Emma hated it was feeling paralyzed. But she couldn't move or breathe or think. The tie was a neckerchief and the vest and pants were leather but he looked the same. Same scruffy beard, same curling hair, even his damn accent was the same. No-one else in Storybrooke spoke with that accent and Emma hadn't realized how much she had missed it.
She tried again to speak but it was impossible. Especially because she knew that if she did force words from her paralyzed throat they were going to be some combination of his Storybrooke name and the joy that seemed to be lurking just underneath the panic. But the way he was looking at her made it clear that he had no idea who she was and that meant he had no idea who 'Graham' was. And that mean all he was going to think was that Princess Swan was a crazy person, even if there was a perfectly logical explanation for why she was looking at him the way she was.
"Princess Swan?"
Suddenly it seemed as though the forest held no air. Princess Swan was what everyone in the Kingdom called her because they didn't know any better. They called her that because they didn't know she had spent most of her life as Emma Swan, bounty hunter. But they hadn't thrown her in jail or told her that her opinion mattered or kissed her so soundly she felt as though her thin black sweater was the warmest garment in the world-
"Graham?" she squeaked, her voice unrecognizable to her own ears.
"Excuse me?" his brows drew together, "I'm sorry, I think you must have me confused with someone else. I'm-"
"I have to go," the words flew from her lips before he could give his name there. Terorr seemed to be the only thing she felt. That and sadness, neither of which she was particularly fond of feeling. She had to get out of there before he could come a step closer, before this horrible, horrible nightmare could be real, "excuse me," she gathered her skirts and turned, hurrying through the underbrush.
"Princess Swan! These woods are not safe-"
"I'll be fine!" she shouted, her slippered feet picking up speed and breaking into a dead run.
She didn't stop until she reached the palace.
Dinner was usually a talkative affair.
They tried to keep the conversation upbeat but there was rarely a shortage of subjects for it. Apparently the impossible task of saving the fairytale world was easy, learning to live in it was the difficult one. Henry was young and while a part of his lessons were on being a Prince, the majority of them were normal, school related activities. The history, english and geography were a little different but the math and science were the same.
Emma was not so lucky.
And of course Snow and Charming were rebuilding the kingdom. Twenty eight years in stasis did not make for a good harvest and winter would be coming very soon. Fortunately Ella and James knew about things such as farming and storing grain, while Snow and Thomas were better at calming the people's worries. Emma had tried to help but considering her and Henry's respective ideas of farming were science experiments and buying organic at the Saturday market, they weren't much help.
Tonight though Emma felt as though she could not speak. It was difficult even to eat. Her mind kept going back to meeting Graham in the woods and for the first time she couldn't find much shame in running away. Mostly because she knew if she had stayed she would have thrown herself in his arms and begged him to remember. And the only thing that would have come out of that would be the entire population thinking that she was insane. Eccentric was a bad enough label, she didn't need insane.
Perhaps the weirdest thing was that no-one outside of her and Henry had aged. Snow and James looked the same age, which was strange considering that they looked her age and Henry was their grandson.
"So," Snow said with a smile, "how was your day Emma?"
"I found Graham," Emma said casually.
Somehow the collective gasp that went up around the table was far worse than Emma would have thought possible. Emma focused on her plate, unable to meet the gaze of her family.
"What? Where?" Snow gasped.
"In the woods, hunting with his wolf," Emma said taking another bite of her dinner and forcing herself to swallow past the sudden thickness in her throat, "did I mention that he doesn't remember anything?" she added, hating how her voice caught on the last word.
"Oh Emma-" Snow began, the sympathy in her voice painful to her daughter's ears.
"Sorry," Emma pushed back her chair, "excuse me."
It was beyond rude and she could already imagine the lecture she was going to get in the morning but Emma couldn't stand to be there a moment longer. It was hard enough to have people be so sympathetic to her, the last thing she needed was for them to worry more. And they were all such romantics, the fact that she and Graham had only kissed twice wouldn't mean anything to them. Emma didn't think she could take the romance being whipped up in her mother and sons minds.
Safely inside her room, Emma shut the door and leaned against it, fighting to regain control of her breathing. Her heart racing and her breath was coming in pants. Emma told herself that the Princess thing was taking a serious toll on her fitness regime, something that was going to have to change in the very near future. Opening her eyes she pushed herself from the door and walked over to her bed, pulling off her tiara as she went.
The knock on her door was firm and Emma winced at its authority.
"Come in," she called.
The door didn't need to open for her to know that her father was on the other side. Even dressed more simply than the rest of them, he seemed to move with unquestionable authority. Emma knew that only a part of it came from his birth right, most of it came from the fact that her father was a very brave, very heroic man whose first real act as Prince was to save the lives of a dozen men and cut the head off a dragon.
"Look I'm fine," Emma said sitting herself on the bed.
"I know," he said holding up his hands, "and it's not as though you've been running through the woods, so it makes sense you'd run out on dinner."
Emma glared at him. The rest of her family seemed to enjoy eating when they were stressed but she was the exact opposite and it worried her parents who thought she was already too skinny. Though Emma privately thought that they just needed something to worry about, like they were making up for twenty eight years of not worrying.
"Really," she tried to stress, "it was just the shock of seeing him since he-" she trailed off, "since he died in Storybrooke," she pushed herself to her feet, "which is stupid anyway since we had to kill that bitch of a Queen twice."
"The Queen was a special case," James pointed out.
"Oh and did I mention he doesn't remember?" Emma asked, feeling herself begin to pace, "this was a man who arrested me twice and the only thing he could call me was 'Princess Swan'."
"As your father I'd prefer he call you that, rather than 'prisoner'," James said. Emma glared at him, "alright so he doesn't remember, that's not so far fetched since he was back here before you broke the I'll talk to Ella and we can find Rumpelstiltskin again-"
"No," Emma cut him off, "no, he's safe and in the woods where he belongs. Besides Prince Derek is coming in a week and he's expecting a Princess to be here."
"Emma-" James began, obviously not liking the idea of his daughter using the potential suitor they had arranged to forego true love.
"Can we-" she stopped as her lip gave a traitorous wobble, "can we not do the father-daughter thing? Because right now I just-" her voice cracked, "I just need to be alone."
Within the next moment he crossed the room and she was wrapped in his embrace. Even though she was nearly as tall as him he still managed to seem impossibly big and sturdy as he wrapped her up and held her tightly. The tears that she had been pushing back all day broke free and just seemed to keep coming, falling in torrents on the thick cream of his shirt. It just hurt, so much more than she even would have thought possible after all the painful things that had happened.
"It hurts so much," she sobbed helplessly, hating the sadness that overwhelmed her at the memory of how blankly he'd looked at her.
"I know honey," he said rocking her back and forth, "I know."
Her tears did not last for long, though Emma knew James would have stayed there all night if he had to. When she had cried herself out, he produced a handkerchief from his sleeve and handed it to her, letting her wipe the last of her tears and blow her nose.
"Did I mention that I hate crying like this?" Emma asked.
"Your mom says something about a good cry being good for the soul," James said, "but between you and me, I don't believe a word of it."
"Good," Emma said with a watery chuckle, "because that sounds like a pretty crazy thing to believe."
James gave at the smile that he did when Snow was being particularly like a fairy tale character, though they both knew that he could be just as bad if not worse.
"Look I was just surprised to see him," Emma said, "really I'm fine. You should go to bed."
"Hey, I may be older than I look but I don't feel a day over thirty," he said. Emma chuckled at the mention f his Storybrooke age, even though it made him only a year older than her.
"I know," Emma said, "but I've already gotten your shirt all wet and you might not feel a day over thirty but right now between Graham and you I feel about ninety."
"Fair enough," he said, accepting her dismissal gracefully, "do you want me to send up food from the kitchens?"
"No, I'm alright," Emma said, "but thank you."
James nodded and slipped out out of the room, closing the door softly behind him, a trick which Emma had not quite mastered. When he was gone she walked over to the wardrobe. Slipping on her long nightgown, the only kind she owned now, Emma sat down on her window seat and looked over the twinkling lights of the capital city.
Emma didn't turn as the panel of her wall slid open. Henry had picked their rooms, which were joined through a secret passage it had taken the kid all of ten minutes to find. He'd found all the passages in the palace with alarming speed but limited the use of the ones leading to Emma and James' rooms after several embarrassing run ins with the very happy, very in love couple. Henry ran across the marble floor quickly and jumped onto the window seat across from her.
"Alright so he doesn't remember," Henry said cracking open one of the thick magic textbooks that was almost as big as he was, "the last time he remembered he kissed you."
"Yes," Emma said, not nothing to be surprised that Henry knew that.
"Okay so maybe if you kiss him again he'll remember."
"Henry," Emma began with a sigh.
"You can't go around kissing people," Henry said with a roll of his eyes, "I know I know," he flipped through the pages before looking up at her over the edge of the book, "what about just this one person?"
Emma fixed him with a look which her son was only too happy to return. After Graham's death Henry had suggested that she try kissing someone else to see if that broke the curse. Emma had flat out refused and Henry let it drop until she ran for sheriff and he conspired with a well meaning Mary Margaret to set up a kissing booth for Emma at the carnival to win votes. When half the town had lined up Emma hand't been sure whether to be horrified or flattered and only feigning a cold had gotten her out of being forever known as the 'slutty sheriff'.
"Henry I can't just go up to him a plant one on him," Emma said.
"The boy has a point."
"Not you," Emma groaned leaning her head against the wall before looking over to see Rumpelstiltskin sitting on her bed, "not now. What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"As always, I'm here to help," he said with a dramatic wave of his hand.
Of all the characters in Storybrooke the one who had changed the least was Rumpelstiltskin. His hand was in everything, only now it was gold and green and had very long nails. He was still just as enigmatic and insane, now his insides just seemed to match his outsides. Emma could feel the headache beginning at the sight of him, though Henry grinned brightly at his appearance.
"You think she should kiss him too," Henry said.
"True love's kiss is powerful magic," Rumpelstiltskin said.
"Okay, hold on," Emma said struggling to her feet in the long white nightgown she was still not entirely used too, "true love? I kissed him twice! The third time he dropped dead in the middle of the sheriff's office! There's no true love here, I don't know him well enough for there to be anything like that."
Rumpelstiltskin and Henry traded a look that seemed to say she was being totally insane. Emma fought not to bang her head against the wall. She was not being insane. The last time she had thought she was in love she'd spent two years in Tallahassee only to find he'd fallen in love with someone else. There was a lot in the fairytale world she could get behind, but the true love thing was too much, even for her. The mere idea was completely insane.
"You both are crazy," she said looking between the pair of them.
"I've been called worse," Rumpelstiltskin said dismissively.
"Me too," Henry chimed in, "besides, you love him."
"I do not!" Emma said.
"Do you really think you're the only one who can tell when people are lying?" Henry asked raising his eyebrows and looking strangely old for his age, "liking cinnamon in my coco isn't the only thing I inherited from you."
"Believe me, kid, I know," Emma said and bit back a swear when Henry fixed her with the look he gave whenever she called him that, "besides, Graham died a horrible death in Storybrooke. It's better that he doesn't remember that-" she trailed off as they exchanged another look, "what now?" she asked miserably.
"You want to protect him," Henry said, "you're willing to sacrifice your own happiness to make sure he's alright."
"You don't even know that we'd be happy together," Emma protested.
"A quest un-began is a quest un-finished," Rumpelstiltskin said sagely.
"Okay I do not need the quotes right now," Emma said pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, "alright," she looked between the man on her bed and the boy on the windowsill, "lets just say, in some world crazier than the two we've been in, I believe what you're saying. Do either of you have an idea of what I need to do to get him to remember?"
"Kiss him," the two said at the same time.
Emma dropped back onto the window seat with a groan. The last thing she needed to do was run around kissing Huntsmen, especially not if they would remember the lives they that had ended so horribly. Henry gave a sigh and pushed himself to his feet with a shake of his head.
"You should kiss him," he advised, "you deserve your Prince too," Henry said.
"Especially since he's not a Prince," Rumpelstiltskin interjected, "they make much better Princes when they become them," he continued, "just look at your father."
"No!" Emma said pointing at the door, "no we are not making this into another one of your 'daddy issues' conversations. Get out."
"You're being rude," Rumpelstiltskin said and if Emma didn't know better she'd say he was pouting, "I'm only trying to help."
"Right now I don't need your help," she said walking over to the wall and sliding open the panel, "I need a good night's sleep."
"Because you're planning on traipsing through the woods tomorrow?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.
"Good night Henry," Emma said, ignoring him.
"Good night Emma," Henry said, "and if I don't see you at breakfast say hi to Graham for me."
"Good night Henry," Emma said waiting until Henry's side of the passage was shut before she slid her own side closed. Walking over to the bed she yanked back the covers, wishing she knew how to throw Rumpelstiltskin off the bed, "don't you have your own room?" Emma asked sitting down.
"I like your view," he said neatly crossing his ankles and lacing his fingers behind his head.
Suppressing a groan, Emma slid under the covers and decided to be thankful that he was fully clothed and on top of the covers this time. The wizard snapped his fingers and all the lights in her room went out simultaneously.
"We could make another deal if you like," he offered, his voice unusually quiet.
"No way, I learned that lesson already," Emma said closing her eyes.
"Fair enough," he said, "curses broken with love are better than ones broken with wishes anyway."
Emma's eyes snapped open and she shoved herself up, the objection on her lips. But when she turned to face his spot on the bed a soft indentation in her feather quilt was the only indication he had been there. Reaching out she touched where the indentation's feet would be, knowing Rumpelstiltskin had a penchant for turning invisible at inconvenient times. But her hand contacted air instead. Groaning Emma flopped back against the pillows and wondered if she should make a deal with him so she could go to sleep.
The next morning Emma donned her trousers, laced up her boots and set off into the woods.
It was liberating to be in boyish clothing, even if it still had the hallmark of the world that she now lived it. Her leather jacket hadn't made it through the transition and though Red Riding Hood claimed she could get her another, Emma had turned her down. It was best that she live in the world she was in, not dream about the world she had left behind.
By the time the sun reached it's apex, Emma was hot, sweaty and tired. She had though that if she met Graham it would be in the early morning, after all wolves were nocturnal. But no, of course she wouldn't meet him when her hair looked somewhat decent and she wasn't overly warm from the fact that slinging a cape over your arm took way more work than slinging a jacket. Sitting on a log she raised her waterskin to her lips and took a one drink.
"Hello again."
Fighting not to roll her eyes at the situation, Emma lowered the waterskin and turned to look at him. He was dressed in the same clothing as yesterday, it seemed that even in the fairtyale world he had a uniform. Letting her eyes move past him she found the wolf sitting there waiting for him to come back. Taking a deep breath Emma looked back up at his blank but friendly gaze and forced herself not to fall to pieces.
"Hey," she said slowly.
"I was wondering if you made it back to the Palace," he said
"Yep," Emma said, "all in one piece, though I couldn't say the same for my dress."
"Well i see you came dressed more appropriately today," he said nodding towards her ensemble.
Fighting the urge to smile as his eyes swept he form, Emma pushed herself to her feet and turned to face him fully. He echoed her movement, though when he straightened he was much taller than her. Defiantly Emma raised her chin, holding his gaze with her own. His softened, as though he found the gesture almost endearing.
"So, Princess Swan," he said, "what brings you to the woods, again?"
"Maybe I like the woods," she said.
"I've never known a Princess who did," he replied crossing his arms.
"That seem like a huge generalization," she said, her hands pressing to her hips.
"Call it an observation," he replied.
"Based on what?" Emma demanded.
"The fact you're standing in dung and have no idea?" he suggested looking down.
"I'm what-" Emma looked down, "damn it!" she swore stepping to the side of the mess.
A low chuck came from his chest and Emma wished the dung pile would open up and swallow her whole. This was not how she wanted her reunion with him to go, especially not the second time. Now she felt bad, looked awful and smelled worse. Mustering what dignity she had left, Emma looked up to see him fighting not to laugh, though he could not contain the amusement in his eyes.
"Alright laugh it up," Emma sighed brushing back a lock of hair, "you're right I hate the woods. But right now, I hate that palace more."
"Fair enough," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, "come on, there's a stream over here where you can wash your boots."
Emma nodded and stepped over the log. Surprise echoed on his face, clearly he had not expected her to go without protest. It took him three strides to move past her and lead her through the woods. Glancing to her right she saw the wolf move forward and fall into stride alongside them. The wolf turned his head and looked at her. Emma tried not to smile as the wolf clearly fixed her with a glare that told her to get a move on.
"So, uh, what's with the wolf?" Emma asked.
"He's a friend," came the reply. The wolf moved towards them but at Graham's look he moved back out.
"You're really good with him," Emma said.
"I'm afraid it's the other way around," he said turning to look at her, "it took him forever to have me so well trained. You can ask him, he'll tell you I'm quite the pain."
"See now that I have no trouble believing," she said with a smile he could not help but return.
They came to the stream and the wolf happily began to drink. Emma was sure to move downstream to wash her boots off. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Graham lean down and rise his hands in the water. The wolf turned and moved behind him, coming next to her and sitting down before sticking his nose underneath her hand. He turned, opening his mouth to call him off but Emma quickly reached up and stroked the animal's forehead. The wolf wagged his tail happily, his tongue lolling out.
"If you scratch him behind the ear I think you might as well get a bed ready in the palace for him," he said as Emma reached up to follow his direction.
"You like that huh?" Emma said as the wolf turned his head to give her better access, "does he have a name?" Emma asked looking over at Graham.
"Yes," Graham said.
"And?" Emma prodded.
"It'd be hard for you to pronounce," he said, an odd note in his voice.
"Try me," Emma suggested, her blood racing to the challenge no matter how small it was. After all, it was a name-
"How are you at growling?"
"Excuse me?" Emma stared at him
"He's a wolf," Graham said, "he's got a wolf's name. I told you it was hard to pronounce.
"Point taken," Emma said feeling her cheeks heat up, "so," she said, "what about your name?" she tried instead, "do i need to growl for that?" he looked down, color blossoming on his cheeks, "are you serious?"
"We should get going," he said abruptly, straightening up. The wolf shook his head and moved to the other side of him, "I trust you know your way back?"
"Wait, you're going?" Emma questioned, feeling as though she had offended him, "I'm sorry if i offended you-"
"You didn't," he said, "we came out here to hunt," he glanced down at the wolf who huffed and shook its head, "we need to hunt," he said, seeming to address himself and the wolf, "good day, Princess Swan."
By the time Emma figure out how to get her mouth to work again he had vanished into the woods.
Cursing Emma turned from the water and bumped straight into none other than Snow White. Gasping Emma jumped back, feeling her heart pound in spite of the fact that the woman was just her mother and wouldn't have hurt her in a million years. Still her boot caught the edge of the river, the soles slipping on the mud as she went backwards. Snow's hand streaked out and with a surprisingly strong tug she pulled Emma back onto the safety of the bank.
"Sorry," Snow said with a smile, "I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's fine," Emma said, "what are you doing out here?"
"I was taking a walk," Snow said.
"Dressed like that?" Emma asked nodding towards her mother's similar garb of trousers, boots and a cloak.
"Henry told me where you were," Snow confessed, "I thought you might need some backup."
"Why does everyone think I'm going to go to pieces because of him?" Emma demanded, suddenly angry, "you, James, even Rumpelstiltskin thinks I'm going to have a breakdown because of him! We kissed twice, that's it!"
"I know," Snow said, "but Emma you ran out of dinner in tears. You let your father comfort you-which made his night by the way-even in Storybrooke you let him in more than you let anyone else in for such a long time."
"And then he died," Emma said, "that bitch turned his heart to dust and he died right in the middle of the sheriff's office. What if Henry's right and he remembers again. How am I supposed to ask him to remember that?"
She looked at her mother, realizing that she was actually expecting an answer from her.
"Because that's not the only thing he'll remember," Snow said grasping her hands before Emma could step away, "dying was one of the first things James remembered and it hurt him. But you know what else he remembered? My voice. And my touch. Then he remembered that he died bringing our daughter to the wardrobe and it didn't hurt so much anymore."
"Snow," Emma looked out at the river, telling herself the tears in her eyes were from the glare.
"He told me that he didn't mind the pain so much, because the fact that it hurt meant that he was still alive. He was alive, he was himself and that was worth every moment of pain."
Emma looked down. He deserved to remember himself, even if they weren't in love. Even if he decided to stay in the middle of the woods with his wolf. Especially if he decided to live that life instead of condemning himself to the palace. Looking over her shoulder she tried to pick out where he went, but the woods all looked the same to her eyes.
"I think he went that way," she said finally pointing over to where she thought he moved.
"Oh Emma," Snow said sadly, "we're going to need to teach you how to track."
"I can track," Emma said, "just most of the people I was tracking went to Mexico or Canada. Not the woods."
"Well luck for you, I'm an expert," she said with a smile, grasping Emma's other hand, "come on, he went this way."
Apparently finding wolf tracks was very easy for Snow White and it took her all of ten second to pick up Graham's trail. They followed it into a thicket just in time to see the Huntsman crouching down and examining a set of tracks. The wolf spotted them before he did, it's eyes turning right towards them. Graham's head flew up a moment later, his gaze following the wolf's and landing on them immediately.
His expression landed on Snow and his eyes widened in surprise. The arrow he had been holding dropped from his hands. Belatedly Emma remembered that he had saved Snow's life and even if he did not remember his time in Storybrooke he had to remember the consequences of that action. Still at the sight of her he bowed his head, his eyes landing on the ground.
"Your Majesty," he murmured.
"I think we're past those formalities don't you?" Snow said walking across the path to where he was, "you did save my life, more than once," she stood close to him, "it is I who are in your debt."
Emma watched the two of them and wondered if she would ever be able to do what her mother was capable of. Snow had an uncanny way of simultaneously making people feel small as ants and big as giants when they were in her presence. Kings, peasants, huntsmen, even Wolves seemed to adore her beyond any sense. The wolf even came to her immediately and sat beside her, looking up at her with pure, unadulterated joy. When she reach down and rubbed his ear Emma wondered if they were going to have an earth quake for how hard the wolf's tail was beating the ground.
"Huntsman," Snow smiled up at him before looking over her shoulder, "I believe you've met my daughter, Emma?"
"Hi," Emma said straightening up and raising her hand in a wave which Graham reluctantly returned.
"I'm trying to teach Emma how to track," Snow said, "but she seems to keep getting lost or finding you."
"I'm afraid its the other way around, Your Majesty," he said, "I seem to keep finding her."
"Well then you have my sincerest thanks," Snow said, "as I'm sure you know the woods are new to my daughter."
He nodded but there was no recognition in the gesture. There was the collective knowledge of the evil Queen's curse and her heroism in breaking it, but like Graham int seemed most of those who died early did note remember what had happened in Storybrooke. They knew they had been cursed, but not what had happened during the curse or who they were in the small Maine town.
"There is much to thank Princess Swan for," he said, his eyes not meeting hers.
"Emma," she said, surprised at the firmness in her own voice. His head flew up and his eyes met hers, "my name is Emma," she said firmly.
"Well, Huntsman, it seems that your permission to ignore titles extends to the entirety of my family," she said with an affectionate smile towards Emma.
Graham's eyes did not leave hers. Emma found herself looking, praying that she would see something that showed he was remembering. Behind her back she felt her fingers cross, praying for some kind of recognition in his gaze. Even if there was pain in it, she'd find a way to help him through that. There was good in his Storybrooke life, she'd make sure he remembered it. She'd find some way, no matter if she had to make deals with Rumpelstiltskin or go through every magic book in the library. She would find a way, she had to, he just had to remember.
But then his gaze went back to Snow White and the disappointment that blossomed in Emma's chest was almost crippling in its weight.
"Thank you for your kind words," he said, "but we need to be going," he finished turning to the kill.
"Would you consider coming to the palace?" he stiffened, "my husband and grandson would like to meet you as well," he opened his mouth to protest but the wolf made a sound and circled Snow's legs before coming over to Emma and sitting next to her, "I think your friend's made his preference clear," she turned to him, "what about you?"
He looked at Snow White and then at the tracks, seemingly torn between agreeing and refusing. Emma turned her gaze to the wolf who was staring up at her intently. He was looking at her like he was trying to communicate, but she had no idea how to understand what he was saying. She glared at him, trying to point that out and the wolf leaned forward and batted her with his nose, hard enough to make her step to the side, the movement drawing both their attention.
"Yes," she said abruptly, "come to the palace."
The wolf made a happy sound and laid down next to her. Emma fought not to roll her eyes at his antics. Henry was going to love this.
"Thank you for your kind offer," he said, "but I cannot leave my friend out in the cold-"
"Of course not," Snow said, "the invitation extends to you both."
"Come on," Emma said, "it'll be dark soon and I don't know if either of you can track in the dark-" they both looked at her like she was mad, "fine. But I can't. So can we head back to the palace?"
An impressed look passed across Snow's face as Graham wordlessly nodded his consent and the three of them headed for the palace with his wolf walking happily alongside Emma. The group headed towards the palace in silence. By the time they got there Emma wondered if this was a good idea or if she had just condemned them to the most awkward dinner ever.
"Emma! Emma!" Henry came pelting out of the palace at a dead run before skidding to a halt, delight filling his eyes, "you brought him!"
"Henry," Emma said warningly, trying to convey the situation to her son through tone alone.
"Hi, I'm Henry," he said turning to the Huntsman, "Emma never brings people over for dinner and Grandma's guests are bad conversation."
"Henry!" Snow admonished.
"Well they are," the boy said, "all they want to talk about is treaties or Grandpa's latest grain venture. It's boring. Even Rumpelstiltskin won't come in for those meals."
"I am so sorry," Snow said walking over and gripping Henry's shoulder, "he's not usually this rude to guests."
"Not the stuffy ones," Henry said, "but he's brining a wolf to dinner, that's about as un-stuffy as you can get."
"That is not an excuse for rudeness," Snow scolded.
"Its fine," the Huntsman said stepping forward, "it's nice to meet you Henry."
"It's nice to meet you too," Henry said before falling silent for a moment, considering his next words, "say, does the name G-"
"Henry why don't you go see what your Grandfather is up to and whether Uncle Thomas is planning on joining us for dinner," Snow cut in quickly.
Henry looked up at her for a long moment before nodding and running off again. Emma traded a look with Snow over Graham's head, painfully aware that Henry was probably going to try and spill the beans sometime during dinner. They already knew the whole 'real name' thing did not work, and Graham already seemed to think they were nuts. The last they needed was for him to have them trying to call him names he didn't understand.
Halfway through the meal Emma decided she wanted him to come to every dinner if it meant she got to wear pants and a tunic. How the message had spread she had no idea but everyone seemed to be dressed casually. Even little Alexandra was out of her fluffy gowns and somehow halfway through the meal she wound up on Graham's lap, which he did not seem to mind at all. Not even when she latched on to a lock of his hair.
"Oh I'm so sorry," Ella said getting to her feet.
"Here, I got her," Emma said leaning over and disentangling the baby, "it means she likes you," she said as the little Princess reached up and grasped a lock of her hair, "see? She's got a thing for hair."
"I can tell," Graham said with a smile at the Princess who babbled happily.
When dinner had finished and goodbyes had been said, Emma walked the Huntsman to the door. The corridors of the palace were lit brightly with lamps as they walked to the entrance. The only sounds were their boots on the marble and the click of the wolf's claws. At the entrance Emma turned to face him, working up every ounce of courage the wine had given her.
"It's dark out, you're welcome to stay," Emma said, "we've got a lot of rooms in the palace."
"Thank you but I cannot accept," he said, "we need to be on our way," he added after a moment of silence.
"Right," Emma said, "of course. Well thanks for coming to dinner."
He nodded and turned to go. Emma turned to leave before she heard him curse softly and turn to face her. Emma turned around as he walked back over to her, surprised to see something akin to anger on his face.
"You shouldn't try to be them," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"I see the way you look at your mother, at Ella, even at your father. And I'm telling you that you shouldn't try to be them. You already did what no-one else could. You don't need to try to be them."
Surprise stole her voice and she wondered when he had become able to read her so easily. Then she remembered back in Storybrooke when even a look from her had come to mean enough that he would try to hide something like his love life from her. How he had known she needed to hear those words, she had no idea, but the relief they brought with them was almost as overwhelming as her earlier fear.
"And I know it may not be my place-" he continued, "but I thought you should hear it from someone."
"Thank you," she said, surprised at how soft her voice came out.
His eyes locked with hers and for one desperate moment Emma thought that he would kiss her. But then his hand curled into a fist and he gave a curt nod, turning back to the double doors.
"Wait!" Emma stepped forward, "what if I need you again?"
"I've found you twice before haven't I?" he asked looking over his shoulder.
And then he was gone and Emma felt as though he had taken all the warmth in the palace with him. He vanished into the shadows as easily as if he was made of them. By the time Emma's feet got the sense to walk over to the threshold he was long gone and not even the sound of wolf's claws on cobblestones reaching her ears. With a sigh, Emma moved back into the palace and though sleep did not come easily, Rumpelstiltskin remained in his rooms and Emma had learned to be thankful for small favors.
It rained for three days after that.
Emma tried to get out of the palace, Snow and Ella even tried to cover for her, but there were a million things to do and the fact that Prince Derek would be arriving soon meant a string of endless tasks. There were gown fittings and tiara fittings and a session on cuisine from his kingdom that took nearly six hours for reasons Emma was certain she would never understand.
When the clouds broke and she was able to sneak out unnoticed, she realized that Graham was gone.
How she knew that she didn't understand but spending two days attempting to get lost in the woods made it clear that the hunter had moved on to more fertile grounds. It was only through sheer will power that Emma forced her emotions down and away. If Graham didn't want her then she didn't want him. Him and his stupid, perfect words and silly kind eyes and fucking neckerchiefs which were the same shade of red as his tie.
"Don't be sad," Henry said the next day when they were sitting in the garden reading as the palace busied itself with the arrival of her suitor.
"I'm not sad," Emma replied absently.
"Yes you are," Henry refuted, "but he just needed some time. He's figured out as much as he can, you've got to do the rest."
"And what makes you think that?" Emma asked him.
"Because he's standing over there."
Emma turned and looked where Henry was pointing. Sure enough Graham was standing there, his wolf circling his legs. Both looked agitated and worried, though Emma had a feeling the emotion was coming more from Graham than it was from the wolf. Painfully aware of the gown she wore, Emma rose to her feet, picked up her skirts and walked over to where he was standing.
"Huntsman," she looked at him worriedly, "is everything alright?"
"Yes-no," he shook his head, "I hope I'm not interrupting-"
"No," she said quickly, "come on," she said, "we can have some privacy here."
"Go play with Henry," he said to the wolf, nodding towards the boy.
She led him down the path towards the manicured gardens. Bringing him to her room would just lead to scandal, like she was some sex crazed sixteen year old instead of a grown woman. Fortunately if there was one thing her mother really loved besides her family it was greenery and a master gardner had created a garden maze for her mother unlike any that Emma had seen. Leading him into the carefully trimmed bushes she found her way to the center with it's burbling fountain and turned to face him.
"Okay, what's going on?" she said, trying to stamp the hope that fluttered in her chest.
"I'm sorry, Princess Swan," he said, both wincing at the title, "Emma," he amended, "I know this might seem strange but since we met in the woods-" he stopped, "that night I-" he shook his head, "I've been-"
"You've been seeing things?" Emma supplied after a lull in his stuttering.
"Yes," he said finally, relief showing on his face, "strange things I can't explain. They're too vivid for dreams and yet they happen every night and I cannot escape them."
"I can help," Emma said, her voice sounding oddly distant to her own ears. He looked over at her, "but I need you to trust me, okay?" she said.
Wordlessly he nodded.
Emma stepped forward and laid her hand over his heart. It beat rapidly against her palm. Fighting not to step back, she slid her other hand to his shoulder. Her right hand remained on his heart, not daring to move as she stepped closer again. His heart fluttered against her palm and she hesitated. What if it stopped again? What if she lost him here and she never saw him again? There was no third world to find him in again.
But it kept beating and before her courage could waver she leaned up and pressed her mouth gently to his.
She felt him stiffen, his breath leaving in a rush as his lips parted beneath hers. Every fibre of her being tried to pour though her lips, begging in a way she had never begged that this would work. That he would remember. That Henry and Rumpelstiltskin were right, that this would work. There was love here, of that she was certain, and it had to be enough. It had to be because she didn't think her heart could take if it she was just a strange Princess kissing a Huntsman in the middle of the gardens.
She kissed him as long as she dared before pulling back. Emma kept her eyes shut tightly, not daring to look up. She didn't know if her heart could take the look in his eyes if he did not remember her.
It was only when his calloused hands reached up and settled on her cheeks that she dared to look up at him. His eyes were bright and wet and looking at her like she had wished he would since she saw him in the woods. It felt like her own heart would stop as the realization he remembered crashed over her. Her own eyes widened and filled with tears, her lips parting as hope flared in her chest. There was no other reason for him to look at her like that. No reason except-
"Emma," he whispered her name, just like he had back in Storybrooke, just like she'd been praying for him to say it, "God, Emma-"
Then his lips were on hers. There was nothing chaste or hopeful about the way his lips moved against hers or the arms that wound around her waist and pulled her against his leather clad chest. Dimly Emma though it was a good thing he was so strong because her knees felt frighteningly weak at the moment. Her arms rose to wind around his shoulders, their chests pressed so tightly together she could feel her own heart match his. His head titled and his tongue swept inside her mouth and suddenly everything else seemed to vanish.
The kiss went on forever but when they drew apart it seemed to end too soon. Graham leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, his grip loosening as her hands came to rest against her hips just above the billow of her gown.
"I didn't think that would work again," she whispered drawing back and looking up at him.
"Is that how you break the curse?" he asked looking down at her, his lips curving into the familiar smile.
"Yes," Emma deadpanned, "it was Henry's idea actually to set up the kissing booth and once we got through the hospital staff it was actually really easy-" he raised his eyebrows at her, "I'm kidding. The kissing only seems to work on you Graham."
At the mention of his Storybrooke name, a look of happiness filled his face, as if he had waited his whole life to hear that name again. Before she had a chance to ask him about it his lips were on hers again. Emma leaned happily into the kiss, letting him wrap her into the warmth of his body and leathers.
"I hope you're remembering and not just making out with my mom in my Grandma's garden maze."
Emma pulled back from Graham with a gasp, turning to face Henry who stood with a much happier looking wolf. Heat burned her cheeks furiously and she wondered dimly if this was how Snow and Charming felt when they were caught.
"Henry!" Ella came running around the corner, Alexandra balanced on her hip, "sorry, Emma, I saw him run in here and I tried to grab him but-" she trailed off, her eyes going to Graham, "hello," she said with a warm smile.
"Hello Ashley," he said.
"Oh my God," her eyes widened in shock, "oh my God-Graham!" Emma barely managed to step aside as the young Princess raced forward and grabbed the sheriff in a one armed hug, "how-when-" she turned to Emma, "did you kiss him? Did it work?"
"Yes," Emma muttered feeling her cheeks heat up further, "oh my God I have to go tell James and Thomas-" she stopped and looked at him, "I mean David and Sean."
"They're here too?" he asked.
"They're Princes remember?" Henry prodded, "I showed you in the book. She's Cinderella, Mary Margaret is Snow White and Thomas and David are their Princes."
"Hey I think Graham's got a lot to remember," Emma said stepping in, "and he just got his heart back. So how about we give him a minute before we start quizzing him."
"Graham!"
At the shout of his name Graham's head flew up, his eyes widening. Emma reached down and grabbed his hand, tightly holding his fingers. It was so long since he died, so much had changed, especially the people who he knew in Storybrooke. When Snow rounded the corner and relief sparked in his eyes, Emma thought everything might be alright. But when she went to pull back her hand his fingers tightened on hers and Emma had to fight not to smile at the knowledge that he wanted her support just as badly as she wanted his. It was ridiculously girlish of her but as her mother hugged him tightly Emma realized she was not quite as opposed to it as she thought she'd be.
How her parents got her out of the ball Emma did not know but she was eternally grateful. Even with the return of his memories, the mention of a ball made Graham look positively green. So while the ball went on far below them Emma through manners to the wind and took Graham and his wolf up to her bedroom where they could have some proper privacy.
Her stupid, girlish smile lasted as long as it took her to change from the gown she wore into pants and a shirt and see how utterly stupid it was on her face. She had been so desperate to have him back that she had almost forgot that he knew about her. He knew her penchant for running and pushing people away. She had accepted the deputy's job by telling him she wanted to put down roots for pity's sake. Glaring at her reflection in the looking glass, Emma pulled her hair into a ponytail and stepped out into the bedroom.
Graham had removed his cloak but kept the rest of his well used leathers on. He was sitting on the edge of her bed almost nervously and his wolf had jumped up on the bed behind him. Both turned their heads snapped towards her at the same time and she wondered if she'd ever get used to being stared at by the pair of them.
"Hey," she said coming over to the bed, "how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," he said, "really. It feels like all the pieces that were missing are back, like for the first time since she took my heart I feel whole."
"Good," Emma said.
"What is it?" Graham asked as she lapsed into silence.
"Okay look, I run. You know it, I know it, running is what I do. I'm trying really hard to change that. But you have to understand that I'm still really shitty at this Princess thing. That time when you found me in the woods wasn't the first time I stormed out of the palace and thought i'd never come back."
"I know," Graham said. Emma looked over at him, expecting at least some kind of denial on his part, "I did hire you, remember?"
"After arresting me twice," Emma said with a laugh, "so that says nothing good about your judgement."
"That's always been questionable," he said with a chuckle.
"Emma," Graham sighed after a moment, "when I say I was raised by wolves, that's not a euphemism," Emma stared at him, "you spent your life thinking your parents abandoned you by the side of the woods, mine took me into the woods in the dead of winter and left me to die. That day when you asked my name I didn't answer because I didn't want to. I didn't answer because I don't have one that any human's ever used."
"Yes you do," Emma said instantly, "your name's Graham. You, me, Henry, we've just got one name to keep track of," she smiled, "my father has three ant hat's without the nicknames. "
"Is that weird to think of him like that?" Graham asked looking at her, "he looks like he's your age."
"I'm still not used to any of this," Emma said, "least of all having parents," she admitted looking over at him, "hold on, when you say raised by wolves-"
"Yes, I mean that literally," he said nodding to the wolf scooted forward, "this is my brother," he said, "we've kept each other warm through winters that killed others and hunted together since we were too tiny to walk far," he glanced over at her, "you think this is insane, don't you."
"Are you kidding?" Emma asked, "in a year I went from being a bounty hunter to a princess. You being raised by wolves actually ranks low on the crazy meter after the year I've had."
"When did you figure out the curse was real?" he asked her.
"After you died," Emma said, trying not to react to the surprise on his face, "you kept saying that you had no heart, then you remembered-" she stopped, "you said you had no heart and you dropped dead of a heart attack in the middle of the office. A month later Henry and I found the chamber underneath Regina's dad's grave and suddenly things started to make sense."
"I'm sorry," he said. Emma frowned and looked over at him, "I remember that I was about to kiss you when I dropped dead," he said, "that couldn't be easy for you."
"Easy for me?" she said incredulously, not realizing she was on her feet until they touched the cold marble of her floor "you were the one who died."
"But you had saved me when I died," he said, "Emma I remembered who I was and for that-"
"Stop thanking me," she said cutting him off, "just, stop, okay? The only reason you died was because I pissed her off-"
"Is that what you think?" he said straightening up to his impressive height, "Emma I died because even without my heart you found a way to make me feel something. Even before we kissed, you avoiding me affected me more than anything I ever did with the Queen."
By the time he finished they were toe to toe and Emma wondered if he was going to kiss her again. She hated when men cut women off by kissing them, it seemed to utterly stupid despite the fact that she was just about ready to rip his leather pants off with her teeth. But he didn't, he just towered over her still giving her plenty of room to run. For one of the few times in her life though, Emma found she didn't want to.
"You know you have your heart back right?" she said, "when I broke the curse in this world the room was ruined but the hearts were already gone."
"I know," he said, his voice softening.
She stiffened when one of his big hands wrapped around hers but he kept his movements gently. When she relaxed he guided her hand up and placed it against his chest, letting her palm come to rest squarely on his chest. His heart was steady under her palm, steady and really really warm.
"You-you're hot," she said. He chuckled, "no I mean you're really warm, do you have a fever? No-one ever got sick after I broke the curse but-"
"No," he said with a shake of his head, and a smile, "when the Queen took my heart she took a piece of me, of who I am. You got that back."
Emma stared up at him and wondered if the pounding of her heart was ever going to go back to normal.
"Wow," Emma breathed looking up at him, "for someone who was raised by wolves you are really good at talking to girls."
Graham smiled down at her and Emma felt a shiver work up the back of her spine. When she stepped closer his hands almost shyly came around her back to pull her gently against him. He looked down at her and Emma wondered how it was possible that wearing a linen shirt and messy ponytail she felt more beautiful than she had in any of the gowns she'd worn.
"Saving me from curses and evil Queens, restoring my memories with a kiss," he looked down at her, "Emma Swan I think you may be my Prince."
"You know," Emma said winding his arms around her neck with a smile, "I think you might be right."
When he ducked his head and captured her lips once more, the fireworks that erupted from the party downstairs were not the only ones Emma Swan saw. In the middle of her bedroom with a wolf sitting on her bed and Graham's arms wrapped around her waist, she decided that maybe, just maybe, happily ever with another person wasn't such a terrible thing. At least not to try. After all, as much as it killed her to admit it even to herself, Rumpelstiltskin may have had a point.
And she was more than ready for the next adventure to begin.