This is a speed-writing exercise based off of three separate prompts that finally brought me around to dabbling in a swanfire AU - growing up together in the EF - I've had in the back of my mind forever. Enjoy! P.S. Because of the premise, or whatever you want to call it, I may actually come back and write more drabbles into the project, but we'll see.
"Hello," Emma greeted cheerfully, looking at the unfamiliar boy standing in the middle of the tailor's workroom. "I'm Princess Emma. Who are you?"
She'd obviously caught the boy off-guard, because the bolts of clothe he'd been carrying toppled to lay by his feet as he dropped clumsily down onto one knee. "Your highness!" he gasped, eyes on the floor.
Eight-year-old Emma wrinkled her nose, protesting, "You don't have to do that, you know! I just asked your name."
"Of course," he boy said nervously, still looking uncertain as he surged quickly to his feet, still staring at the ground.
Emma hated it when people did that! "What's your name?" she repeated, starting to feel a little testy. She hadn't raced ahead of her mother and the seamstress only to have to endure more endless pleasantries.
"Baelfire, princess," the boy said, risking a look at her through his dark, curly locks.
"How old are you, Baelfire?" she asked, testing out the old-fashioned name on her tongue.
"Eleven, your highness."
"You don't have to say that, either," she informed him. "You can call me just 'Emma.' We can be friends, if you want."
Here the boy looked straight at her before he could catch himself, alarmed for a second before a glint came into his eyes and he said under his breath, "As you wish, 'Just Emma.'"
Emma smiled at him – and the quiet boy smiled right back at her in the second before the seamstress and queen barged into the room.