"Are you sure about this?" the woman asked anxiously, wringing her hands.
"We don't have a choice, darling," her husband sighed.
"But what if she doesn't love her? What if they grow to hate each other?"
"Honey," he said. "This alliance is the only thing that can save our people. We have to do this."
"I just-"
"We have to do this."
The woman sighed too and lowered her head, resigned to the fate they had chosen together.
SIXTEEN YEARS LATER
"Betrothed?!" the girl gasped. "What?! How?!"
"I'm sorry, Emma," her mother said. "This is how it has to be. It's already done."
"But why? How could you do this to me?!" the blonde screamed. "I won't do it! I'll run away!"
"You know we would never let you out of our protection," her father told her.
"Then I'll kill myself."
She darted to the kitchen and grabbed the largest knife she could find, faster than her mother or father could react, and held it against her wrist, her teenage impulses ruling her behavior.
"I'll do it right now unless you call it off," Emma shouted.
"Emma, no!" her mother cried, jumping at her and managing to swiftly snatch the knife away.
"I hate you," the girl sobbed. "I hate you both."
With that, she bolted down the hallway and slammed the door to her bedroom once she was inside.
TWO YEARS LATER
"Are you ready?" the blonde girl's mother asked, reaching out and straightening her daughter's pure white dress. "You look stunning."
As the years had passed, the girl's wild spirit had mellowed, and she had nearly resigned herself to her fate, but when the day came, she naturally found herself in a panic. She shook her head and lifted her violently shaking hands.
"Look at me!" she cried. "I'm a mess!"
"It'll be alright, darling. I'm sure she's lovely."
"Are you kidding? She's being raised by a woman that everyone says is horrible!"
"I'm sure she is her own person, sweetie. People don't always turn out like their parents."
"But they usually do," the girl protested, anxiously looking around the room. "Dad," she cried out, her eyes welling up with tears. "I don't want to do this. Don't make me do this."
"It's for the good of our people, Emma. You are single-handedly guaranteeing the safety of all of our lives. Do you understand that?"
"Why me? Isn't there another way?"
"We tried, honey. We tried everything. This was the only way to end the bloodshed."
"Dad, please," she began to sob, twisting her hands until her knuckles turned white.
Her face matched the color of her dress, completely drained of color.
"I'm going to pass out," the blonde announced slowly, choking on the words.
Just before she dropped, her father caught her in his arms and lifted her up, carrying her to the couch and being careful not to tear the elegant dress she was wearing.
"Emma?"
He said her name softly, tenderly, as though she might break from the sound, which she seemed to have done already. Unconscious but breathing, the girl lay on the couch, sweat dripping from her temples.
"Emma."
This time, it was her mother who said her name, pressing the back of her hand to her daughter's forehead, surprised to feel the cold sweat there.
The man just turned to his wife and put his hand on her shoulder, saying, "We have to get her ready. We don't have much time. The ceremony starts in less than an hour."
The woman nodded, but was beginning to tear up, her eyes filled with regret. Though her husband attempted to comfort her, she was unable to take solace in his words. The pity she felt for her daughter was too great, and her guilt was too strong. Knowing she was responsible for her daughter's fate and that there was no way out for the girl, she worried that things would turn out for the worst. Still, she, like her husband, had resigned herself to the fate.
"Emma, honey, wake up," the woman pleaded, shaking the girl's shoulders, but to no avail.
The beautiful blonde's eyes remained closed until her father returned with a wet cloth and touched it to her face. Startled, she sat up quickly, gasping for breath.
"No!" she screamed. "I can't do this!"
"You have to, Emma," her father said. "For your people. You are a princess, but they need a queen."
"I don't want to be a queen! I don't want to be a princess, either!"
"I'm sorry," he sighed, grabbing her hand and pulling her gently off the couch. "It's time."
"I can't," the girl said through her tears. "Please don't make me do this, Daddy."
Embracing her in his strong arms and placing a loving kiss on the top of her head, he sighed.
"It's gonna be okay, sweetheart."
"How do you know?"
He doesn't, her mother was thinking, but she remained silent, not wanting to rile her daughter any more than was necessary. The girl needed no help to increase her painful, crashing wave of anxiety.
"I just do," her father lied, then bit down on his lower lip.
The lump in her throat prevented Emma from protesting further.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER
The blonde stood just outside the doors of the great hall that contained an altar at the end of the isle, still sweating, but looking just as beautiful. Her cheeks remained void of color. When the doors were pulled open by two guards, she squeezed her bouquet of flowers tightly until her knuckles were once more as white as her dress. Nearly tripping over herself and stumbling in her high heels, she stepped forward, her whole body shaking. It was then that she saw the girl standing at the end of the isle, whose cheeks, in contrast with Emma's own, were warm and pink.
The girl's elaborate dress and crown, covered in diamonds, shimmered in the bright, colorful light pouring in through the castle's stain glass windows. As Emma took a few more clumsy steps forward, she got a better look at the other girl's features, which were both soft and regal. To the blonde's great surprise, the young queen's beauty far surpassed any she had ever known, causing her to suck in a shallow breath that got stuck somewhere deep in her lungs. During the last three steps, she did not breathe.
The young queen was having much the same experience, caught off guard by just how exquisite the princess really was, the girl's equal beauty putting every rumor of her stunning looks to shame. Standing in front of each other at last, neither drew breath.
"We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Her Majesty, Queen Regina Mills to Her Majesty, Princess Emma Swan, who will be crowned today as our other queen," the marriage officiant announced. "Together, we can be assured that they will rule as one and bring prosperity to our kingdom."
They both swallowed hard as they each turned to share a terrified glance with their respective parents before looking back at each other, but avoiding any direct eye contact. Their palms were sweating from apprehensiveness, and they were shaking from the fear of the unknown. As the officiant finished his speech, the girls grew even more anxious, knowing exactly what would come next.
"Do you, Your Majesty, Queen Regina Mills, take Her Majesty, Princess Emma Swan to be your lawfully wedded wife and queen?"
"I do," the beautiful brunette choked, quietly enough that only the few people in the first rows could hear her.
She was almost unable to squeeze the words past her lips.
"And do you, Your Majesty, Princess Emma Swan, take Her Majesty, Queen Regina Mills, to be your lawfully wedded wife and queen?"
The princess hesitated, looking to her parents for encouragement. The room was quiet, shocked by the girl's silence. When her father nodded firmly, forcing the worried scowl from his face, she turned back to her future wife.
"I do," she finally managed, only slightly louder than the queen, causing a wave of relieved sighs from the girls' parents.
"I now pronounce you both married, and Emma Swan a queen of this kingdom. You may kiss the bride," the officiant said at full volume, so that the entire room could hear the declaration.
This time, they both hesitated. The first queen made the initial move, clasping the new queen's free hand gently, the softness of her skin making Emma shiver, and leaning in just slightly.
At last, Emma took a deep breath and leaned in as well, giving the other girl the bravery to press their lips together very briefly.