The sun shone through a gathering of clouds in the sky, shining only upon the highest tower in the castle. It was in this tower in which the queen was in labor.
Many stories were told about that night in the years that were to follow; how that the second the baby girl was born, the sun blessed her with its rays; how that when the little girl let out her first cry, the birds started to sing; how that when her father caressed her, she grabbed his finger and squeezed, making the sun's rays slip through those last clouds and shine upon the entire kingdom. So many rumors surrounded the night of Emma Swan's birth, that it was impossible to say which one of them were true. Had you been there, you would know – they were all true.
11 years later.
"Emma! Where are you?" Snow's voice came from the courtyard. Emma – who sat inside the rose garden just outside palace limits – snickered at her own brilliant mind to hide from her mother in order to escape the dress fitting for tomorrow night's stupid ball. She hated fancy parties, to dress up and to have to be polite, and she had to do it all at the same time! She felt the demands her parents had of her were too high, never allowing her to be the kind of person she wanted to be because she was a freaking princess. Like that was her fault.
While she sat there, pondering what do to with the rest of her day now that she had gotten her mother off her back, she heard footsteps of someone approaching. The instant she saw who it was, she stayed put, covering her mouth and nose with her hand so not to breathe too loudly; it was the evil enchantress, Cora. A man was with her, someone Emma did not recognize; his skin was golden and his eyes without emotions.
"I am not sure this will be in your best interests, my dear queen," the man said in a strange voice.
"I will decide what will and will not be in my own best interests, thank you very much. Can it be done or not?" Cora replied, sounding awfully annoyed with the man. Emma had heard terrible stories about Cora growing up, stories sounding too awful to be true. There was a rumor she had taken out her own heart when she was very young in order for her to never get weak (as love was weakness, according to her). There was another rumor that she had murdered the man her daughter loved, just to spite her – and frankly, Cora probably couldn't stand anyone being in love at all. No one had seen Regina since.
"Of course, dearie," the man said with a sound that was probably supposed to be laughter. "But magic always comes with a price."
"Yes, yes, I know that Rumplestiltskin. Just tell me what do to and I'll pay your precious price," Cora said while waving her hand at him, as if she were dismissing what he had told her. Emma felt a shiver go down her spine but refused to move in fear of getting caught in the bushes, because even though she had no idea what the pair was up to, she knew it was probably something dangerous she wouldn't want to be caught up in the middle of.
"Well, well, aren't we eager to curse everyone this fine afternoon?" has asked her, and Emma had to literally bite her tongue in order for her not to draw in a sharp breath in shock. Rumplestiltskin then proceeded to take out something from his coat; it was small because Emma couldn't see what it was.
"Thank you. You will be rewarded," Cora said when she was given whatever was in his hand. He snorted at her, making clucking noises.
"Do not think you will get away that easily. I will have my price and you will know when I come to collect." With those words, he was gone in a cloud of purple and glitter, making Cora cough and wave her hands in front of her in order to see anything.
"Fool," she said, laughing bitterly. "It's not as if anyone will remember once my work is done." She gave her big dress a twirl and turned around to walk away. Emma could've sworn she heard her mutter under her breath, something that sounded an awful lot like "I hate happy endings."