A/N: Set in my 'Glimpses' verse, I've decided to put these stories out there as standalone oneshots when inspiration strikes. You don't need to have read GOLAA but there may be some references to that story.
NIGHTMARE: (noun) A person, thing, or situation that is very difficult to deal with
Nightmares, it seemed, could manifest themselves in many different ways.
A frightening dream that you feel you can't wake up from...
The terrifying prospect of something out of your control...
A person that's difficult to deal with...
Or, Emma realised as she stared at her reflection in open-mouthed horror, it could actually be a combination of all those things.
"I think she likes it," Snow fairly sing-songed in obvious delight as she came to stand on one side of her daughter.
"I think you're delusional," Regina commented caustically as she appeared in the reflection on the Saviour's other side.
"I think I look like a meringue," Emma declared in dismay.
"Oh, it's not that bad," her mother immediately refuted.
"It really is," the former Evil Queen disagreed dryly.
"It's just not me," Emma stated giving Snow an apologetic smile in the mirror. "I'd always imagined myself in something a little less..."
"Tacky?" Regina supplied helpfully.
"...extravagant," the blonde finished tactfully, shooting the other woman a censorious glare.
"Oh...I see," said Snow, visibly deflating even as she attempted an understanding smile. "Of course. Well, it's your big day, you should wear what you want."
"A bride in black jeans and red leather," Regina drawled sardonically. "That would be a first, even for here."
"Oh, please," Emma muttered derisively, rolling her eyes at the other woman's words.
There was a moments silence as all three women stared at the mirror again, their faces each reflecting their own personal thoughts on the wedding dress Emma had tried on.
It was a frothy creation with a huge skirt and ridiculously long train. Many a precious gem adorned the painfully tight bodice and the lace trim was inlaid with what was indisputably the finest spun gold.
Emma couldn't deny that it was beautiful and there was no doubt it was fit for the princess she was born to be.
Except she wasn't that princess. Not really.
"Why don't you go and take it off while I find the seamstress?" Snow suggested casting one last wistful glance over the dress. "You can tell her what style you'd prefer and she'll make it up for you."
It was on the tip of her tongue to call her mother back as she watched her walk away but Emma swallowed down the guilt and went behind the large screen to get changed.
"You're making the right decision if it's any consolation," Regina told her from the other side of the screen.
"It's not, but thanks," the blonde replied downheartedly.
She put on the pants and bodice she'd taken to wearing in her new home and came out to find Snow already back with the seamstress. For the next half an hour or so Emma explained what she wanted, conscious of that fact that her mother couldn't quite hide her disappointment and Regina made frequent, and usually unhelpful, comments.
By the time she left the room, Emma was about ready to scream...or at the very least stamp her foot.
Anger firing each stride, she walked out into the grounds of the castle in search of Killian. When it became obvious that he wasn't in the gardens, she took the path down to the docks. Sure enough, she found him aboard his ship.
The pirate was halfway up the rigging checking the condition of the ropes when he spied her walking dockside. He felt the usual rush of happiness that seeing her always sparked within him and nimbly negotiated his way down the ropes before jumping lightly down onto the deck just as Emma stepped onto the gangplank.
"Did you have a good day, love?" he asked, reaching out his hand to help her aboard.
He held her steady while she climbed onto the ship then pulled her loosely into his arms and gave her a welcome kiss as soon as her feet touched the deck.
"I've had better," she groused unhappily when they parted.
At her words, Killian tilted his head to the side to look at her more intently and his expression grew sympathetic.
"Let me guess," he began, sliding his arms more fully around her waist and pulling her closer. "You hated the dress, your mother pretended she wasn't upset about it and Regina was...well...Regina."
"It was a complete nightmare," she mumbled morosely, her tone alone telling him that he was right.
She laid her head on his shoulder drawing comfort from his warm embrace and for a few moments she allowed herself to forget all the stress of the past few hours and just be.
"What say we take off for a couple of hours?" he suggested softly as his hand began to run up and down her back in a soothing motion. "Just you and me."
Emma was tempted. So, so tempted. Running away when things got too much had always been what she'd done best in the past.
"Can we make it a couple of months?" she asked plaintively.
"Ah, but then we'd miss our wedding, love," Killian pointed out in amusement.
"We could always elope," she proposed, her voice muffled as she turned to snuggle further into his neck.
She felt his laugh rumble through his chest and raised her head to look at him with a slight frown when he stated dryly, "I have no doubt that both your parents would ensure that I was not able to perform my husbandly duties once we returned if I dare deprive them, and you, of an occasion befitting your station."
With a small tut of annoyance, she pulled out of his embrace then turned away and walked to the side of the ship. Looking out over the ocean, she shook her head, her expression growing troubled as she remarked quietly, "It just bothers me...everything's gotten so big, you know?"
"Swan, you're a princess that's getting married in the Enchanted Forest," her betrothed pointed out gently, joining her at his ship's rail. "I fear that big is very much a requirement, not an option."
She turned to look at him and huffed out her exasperation. He was right of course and she knew that her parents where only doing what was expected of royalty but it didn't make it any less annoying...or daunting.
"How come you're not fed up with all this fuss?" she muttered grumpily. "I know you can't be liking it any more than I am."
A wry smile touched his lips and he took hold of her hand as he stepped a little closer.
"Aye, I don't," he admitted ruefully then his voice lowered as he continued earnestly, "But I choose to see it as one day out of the rest of our lives together, Emma. The frippery and occasion as mere window dressing to the love in our hearts that I know beats truly between us. After all we've been through to get here, a few hours discomfiture is a price I'll willingly pay a hundredfold if it means I have the honour of being your husband at the end of it."
Emma's heart skipped at his words and she felt the irritation she had at the situation quickly fade away to be replaced with feelings of self-reproach. She'd been letting everything else get to her and lost sight of what really mattered...that she was marrying the man she loved more than life itself. A man who had proved once again that no matter the circumstance, she was always uppermost in his mind.
"The honour's not just yours, Killian," she assured him softly as she raised her hand to gently cup his cheek. "Being with you...it's what I dreamed of long before we broke the curse in Storybrooke."
He drew in an audible breath at her admission, words failing him for once on his life, then he leaned in and captured her mouth for the deepest of kisses.
It was she that broke away first, the need for air making her gasp a little then give a breathless laugh as they stood pressed closely together, foreheads touching.
"And you're right," she acknowledged, her voice husky as she continued, "It doesn't matter if we have ten or a hundred ice sculptures. It doesn't even matter how many tiers the cake has, or how many people are coming that we don't know, or that dad wants you to wear lilac for the wedding. It's being together that counts."
She kissed him again but it was he that pulled away this time, his expression mildly perturbed as he questioned dubiously, "You father wishes me to wear lilac?"
Emma grinned back at him and nodded.
"You should count yourself lucky, my mom wants me to look like a meringue."
His eyes widened then he muttered in a vaguely aghast tone, "Perhaps elopement isn't such a bad notion after all."
Emma laughed, a carefree sound that gladdened his heart, then she grabbed his hand and led him over to the steps that would take them to his cabin.
"In that case, maybe you should get some of those husbandly duties in now before my parents come after you," she recommended with a flirty smile.
The look he gave her in return was nothing short of sinful before his lips came crashing down upon hers, taking her breath and her senses away as she succumbed to the sensual onslaught.
Four weeks later, the bride wore a gorgeous gown of cream silk with a modest train and little adornment apart from her dazzling smile. The groom wore red, much the the prince's disappointment, and looked as handsome as the devil he often claimed to be.
And despite all of Emma's misgivings, the wedding itself ended up being the stuff of dreams...though, thankfully for her, not the bad kind.
The End