The sun had shifted high when the sound of hoofbeats rang out staccato against the harsh snow and ice that had covered the ground for weeks without reprieve. Guards and various staff scrambled to make way before the messengers arrived, readying the Royal family's supper and armor and swords should it be riders from the northern holding or Forbidden Fortress. Emma waited in the void not occupied by the scurrying individuals that made up the majority of the castle's population, simply staring out into the bleak emptiness that had become her life since the curse was lifted. Gone was the days of cheeseburgers at Granny's and hanging on the weekends with Ruby; gone were all of her friends, now servants and the nameless, faceless mass her parents ruled over.
The werewolf had gone off hunting on its own, broken from the small packs that littered the Enchanted Forest, and had yet to return to its Queen's holding. The Princess had been informed that it was a regular occurrence, and perhaps the former waitress had merely opted to change alliances, as though she was not one of the Queen's friends in the Storybrooke. Emma soon found that Queen's and King's did not have friends in this new land, rather they had subjects, and her once charming family ruled with an iron fist. The dungeons were filled with former citizens, lumberjacks, school teachers, bakers, and the occasional dwarf who dared to disagree with the reigning monarch's decisions regarding the kingdom.
All but one cell, empty now, which had contained the former Queen. Housed like an animal in rags and forced to sleep on hay deemed unfit for the hounds that roamed the castle walls, Regina had been forced to her knees before the regents on a daily basis before she had simply disappeared from the chains that bound her. Her magical strength had built up, Emma had often thought after the Queen's disappearance. The humiliation and degradation had finally sunk in through her carefully veiled walls until it broke her and the magic had pooled from her like a tidal wave, allowing her escape.
Back into the Enchanted Forest, the rumors foretold; back to the Winter Castle where faceless riders in black had amassed once more and rode in the Queen's name. She had seen them, once, on the rare day she was allowed to venture past the castle walls, housed compactly in an elegant white carriage surrounded by the trademark white stallions of her parent's kingdom. The team of riders had halted at the edge of the wood, tall astride their magnificent black beasts as they surveyed the royal procession from afar. The Captain of the Guard, known only by the purple sash across his broad chest, had nodded briefly in acknowledgement of the Princess before he ordered his riders to turn to the west and ride. It was the last ride she was allowed to take outside the kingdom's boundaries when Henry told of their encounter to his grandmother.
Emma walked carelessly, with shoulders hunched, to the throne room where the royalty would await their guests. Amidst the chaos of the room sat her son, proud and excited as ever, as he sat off to the side and below the King, a single reminder that the Prince had yet to attain any other worth than his bloodline. He would be shushed soon enough, the incessant babble the Charmings had indulged in Storybrooke broken with a single word, and ordered to be seen by their visitors but never heard. It was the same for the brash Princess, her own bloodline the only saving grace between herself and marriage to the first available prince. Here, she was as unobtainable and unwanted as a crow of the northern holding. The savior having become a burden on the White family tree due to her inexperience and lack of knowledge in the ways of the court.
Snow White, her mother, admonished her utter lack of decorum with a stern look. With an extended finger, she ordered the young woman into her own seat, to the left of the Queen. Like her son, Emma was shushed accordingly, though no sound made it past her throat, having learned from instances in the past when her opinion was not needed nor required. Her unfavorable opinion of treatment of the prisoners, forced to their knees in front of the Royal family, being the worst offense of all. She, herself, had displayed disloyalty to the crown, or so said those nameless and faceless of the kingdom who demanded a new heir to the throne and her own abdication of the title. The former sheriff had failed to comply with the unwritten rules of the court by expressing her own displeasure in seeing the former mayor, the former Queen, on her knees for hours before Snow White ordered her step-mother back to the bowels of the dungeon for another night amongst the thieves, robbers, murderers, and hounds that resided there. "The squires of the Eastern Kingdom," Snow said solemnly to answer the unasked question. "Fourteen riders and a carriage bearing the emblem of the East."
The King's hands tightened against the golden throne considerably, veins in his neck tensing at the proclamation. To the East was King George, a former father figure to the shepherd who later became prince. The shepherd who had slain a dragon, ran from marriage to a Princess, escaped the guillotine with the help of a Queen, and married the treasonous daughter of another King. For all his power, he still feared the retribution of the riders from the East, come to collect on an old alliance long since broken.
Emma snorted lightly, wincing at the harsh echo of her grunt as it bounced against the stone walls that kept the castle chilled even in the summer months.
Seven riders in the scarlet garb of their royal family entered the room, followed closely by the Eastern King and Captain of the Guard. "This must be the elegant Princess I've heard so much about," the King spoke heavily as he turned on his heel to address the members of the family in turn. His grey eyes lingered on the golden haired savior for a moment longer than the others. "A true pleasure to meet you, your royal highness," he mocked with a low bow.
He reminded her of Rumplestiltskin in that moment, the man kept safely guarded in the cell designed to ward against even the most powerful magic in the realm. A threat in Storybrooke, the imp's reign of terror had grown tenfold when he had been allowed to wreak havoc on the lands in exchange for his assistance in quarantining the Evil Queen. The mocking laughter, the exaggerated bows- all of the King's mannerism dripped of the Dark One's influence, or perhaps the gesture was merely made to make the recipient feel inferior. It worked. The savior had never felt more inferior than she did as she met his cold, dead, grey eyes in the harsh light of the waning afternoon.
"And Your Majesties, may I congratulate you on your latest accomplishment," George continued as he straightened to address them more fully. "Defeating the notorious Evil Queen only to lose her mysteriously- my, that is quite a feat, indeed. I'm sure you've heard the rumors of black banners rising in the North once more."
Snow hissed in acknowledgement while James remained silent. The Northern holding had been unoccupied for quite some time, since the last time the Evil Queen had reigned from the Winter Castle before the curse was enacted. To hear of its inhabitation once more failed to disabuse the Queen's notion that her daughter had merely seen a figment of her imagination in the black stallions who greeted her on the road.
"Armies are amassing in the Queen's name," George uttered as the King and Queen shared a look between themselves.
"She isn't the Queen," Snow shouted, breaking her own code of silence. Her step-mother had not carried the title of Queen within these walls since the failed execution; she had been returned to the Winter Castle devoid of title and honor associated with it.
"Is she not, dear Snow? And who would have taken the title away from her?" George addressed the Queen fully, sarcasm dripping from every vowel he uttered in her direction. "Surely not the traitorous little Princess. It seems to me, my dear, that you are the one without title, and certainly without a rightful heir."
The Queen reared back in her seat, unsure of how to respond to the accusations flung her way. The kingdom had accepted her, after she and James regained control over the throne, had even fought with them during the wars against Regina. "My daughter, Emma, will one day ascend to the throne, and after her, Henry."
Dull grey eyes turned swiftly onto the Princess. "Is that so, Princess? Do you not think you should abdicate now rather than risk the penalty of war due to your incompetence?" He turned and gave a half-bow to the little Prince who watched the events with a hopeful eye. "And the little bastard, what right does he have to the throne?"
"Hey!" Emma hollered as she rose from her seat amidst the disapproving glares from both mother and father. She had held her tongue long enough; the details of her mother's involvement in the events that sparked Regina's rage were well-known to her, at least the one side of it, and her own shortcomings were broadcasted each and every time the King and Queen held court, but she would not accept her son being referred to as a bastard. "Don't ever call my son a bastard again."
"No," George chuckled heartily. "Then tell me, dear, where is his father? Oh, yes, in the dungeons awaiting execution for his crimes." He turned on his heel to address Henry again. "And what of your other mother, dear boy? What has become of the Queen?"
His silence foretold the knowledge he possessed of the woman he once called mother. Here, in this land, he had advocated with his grandmother and grandfather that she was evil and would remain so, even turned up his nose when she was brought before them and forced to her hands and knees. His book had told the truth; evil would be vanquished.
"Silence? Is that what ten years of mothering gets? It's no wonder I failed to share my own displeasure when my sons acted against my wishes. Riddance to the lot of them! Nothing but a sniveling bastard, aren't you, Henry?" He stepped closer, mindful of the guards at the royal family's feet. "Would you have cried at her execution? Let a tear fall as a dozen arrows were aimed at her heart, or would you remain as you are now, the insolent child of a loving mother?"
Tears flowed freely as the words reached their intended target, and George stifled a smile. The boy wept anxiously, body rocking back and forth as he fought to console himself in the open embrace of his blonde mother while the King and Queen looked on disapprovingly.
"What is your business here?" James asked. His blonde head rose defiantly in the face of his father figure; he might be the second choice of the man before him but he would never forget the lessons forced upon him.
"A warning. Release the kingdom into the hands of its rightful owner or face the consequences of war." The riders in scarlet moved closer to the king, closing ranks around him as he stepped forward and mocked a half-bow to the gold-covered thrones. "The Eastern kingdom will ride with the West should you fail to accept our conditions, as well as the riders from the Forbidden Fortress."
"And the North?" Snow inquired quietly. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and pictured herself before the curse broke, the times when she was merely a grade school teacher in charge of the school aged children in Storybrooke. "Will the North ride against us?" Could their armies stand another battle against Regina and her riders in black, if the rumors were true? The defeat of the Evil Queen had come at a price, one that could not be paid again, not even in the fairies were willing to come to their aid. Would her successor choose to align themselves against such odds?
"Send the crows," George smirked as he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving behind the gasps from the Queen in his wake.
When the chaos had separated itself from the innate calm that had always permeated the throne room and Henry's cries turned muffled, Emma rose to her feet to confront her parents. "What the hell just happened here?" She demanded, anger evident in her voice as she struggled to contend with the vile words the King had spewed towards her son.
"He threatened us with war if we don't turn over the kingdom," Snow said bitterly, grounding out the words as though forced to chew on glass. "He wants us to step down and for you to abdicate your title."
"Turn over the kingdom? To who?"
James cleared his throat, and for the first time in a very long time, turned to address Henry. "Stop crying," he murmured in the boy's direction. "Princes don't cry."
The former sheriff growled at her father, incensed that he was more thoughtful of impressions to the court rather than his grandson's feelings. The boy had been through hell and back since they found themselves in Fairy Tale Land; having to watch his adoptive mother brought before them in nothing more than rags and forced onto already bloodied knees, learning how to be a prince when others dogged him at every turn for the shortcomings of his mother and his association with the other. Those who had been friendly to him in Storybrooke had openly mocked him in the marketplace for his lack of understanding to the realness of fairy tales and the characters that made them. "They do when kings tell them that they're bastards. Who does he want you to turn the kingdom over to exactly?"
"Some might say Regina," Snow murmured quietly, "and others would say Midas or George himself. Rightful ownership of the throne has been lost in time, Emma. There have been too many battles; too many victors who have claimed the throne to know for sure who was the rightful heir."
"And 'send the crows,'" Emma inquired further. The notable exclusion of the riders from the North in George's threat vibrant in her mind. From the maps in the war room and the study, she had gathered that the Forbidden Fortress belonged to Maleficent, the sorceress and dragon thought to be slain in Storybrooke, the East housed the kingdom of George and his riders in scarlet, and the West had withstood the reign of Midas for years. It was only the North that gave her pause, unwilling to utter the name of the Queen who had once resided there for fear that she might cease to exist even in the former sheriff's mind. "What does that mean?"
"If the rumors are true and Regina has regained control over the Winter Castle, it means that she might be our last defense against the rise of the other kingdoms. Whoever controls the riders in black may not even respond to our call of distress, even if the crows arrived in hordes. There is no loyalty there, Emma, not to this kingdom or our rule. The kingdom remained loyal to Regina even after she was captured, and will remain loyal to her successor as well."
"And if this kingdom fell? What would happen then?"
The bitter laugh that emitted from the Queen was nothing short of haunting, a precursor for the words about to tumble from her mouth. "We would be executed, as well as those who claimed loyalty to our house. The successor's would eradicate our names from the history books until there was no record of the White rulers at all."
Emma crossed the stone floor and knelt in front of Henry, wrapping him in her strong arms as he continued to weep, at once terrified at the prospect of execution due to his family name and still fearful of the hateful words the king had spilled over his actions. "So send the crows!" She demanded. "Send an entire flock; send geese and swans and bluebirds. Send every bird you can think of. If it is Regina, then she won't let anything happen to Henry. She'll come to our aid if you ask her."
"And if it isn't her? What then?"
"Then we'll be dead anyway, so it won't matter who it is. But, if it is, she'll do everything in her power to protect Henry." Henry melted into her arms, bearing into the slight comfort offered in direct opposition to the horrific scenarios that remained jumbled in his mind. "The riders in black, they could have killed us but they didn't. The Captain of the Guard saw who was in the carriage and he let us pass. If he's under Regina's rule, then that would explain why he let us go."
James snorted derisively. "He let you go because doing otherwise would have been an act of war. The riders would have been slaughtered on the spot had they made advances towards you or Henry, regardless of who they rode for."
"Send the crows."
"Assemble the war room," Snow countered with a harsh glare in her daughter's direction. If she failed as the Queen to provide protection for her people, her family then it would be her punishment to watch George and his forces take over the kingdom she had worked so hard to take back over, but she would be damned if she asked for help from the Winter Castle, no matter who reigned over the forested lands. What that woman had done to them here and later in Storybrooke was unforgivable, and if she lost her head because of her unwillingness to be betrayed by her former step-mother, then so be it. "I want to know exactly how many men we have at the ready and how many can be assembled within a fortnight," she ordered, stalking out of the throne room.
The Princess stared at the ground where her mother had rested her feet at the base of the throne. In her arms, Henry trembled as the tears continued to cascade down his cheeks, reminding her of how much a child he still was. No matter that in the past year he had taken off to Boston to find her, returned her to Storybrooke, defeated the Evil Queen's curse, and been returned to the Enchanted Forest where he had to watch his mother brought up in chains on a daily basis. The final disgrace had been the threatening words from a hateful king.
"I don't want to die," the little prince mumbled into his mother's shoulder, snuffling against the unfamiliar feel of silk. He missed the distinct smell of her leather jacket, saturated in the faint presence of her perfume. "I don't want to die, Emma."
She startled momentarily at the reversion to her name rather than 'mom.' She supposed that it was the stress, the telltale trauma of the past year that seemed to have finally caught up to him. "You aren't going to, Henry. Hey, kid, I want you to look at me-" Emma waited until his brown eyes met hers. "I'm going to do whatever I have to do to make sure nothing bad happens to you, got it?"
"Are you going to contact mom?"
It had to be the stress talking, Emma thought, because the utterance for his mother was the first time he had mentioned Regina in regard that could be termed as affectionate. The old title he had brutally ripped away from the dark brunette was now restored, reminding her of what she needed to do and what she would do if it came down to it. "I'm going to do whatever I need to, kid, and that means I will get on my hands and knees to beg for her forgiveness if it comes down to it. But, first, we need to see if she's even at the Winter Castle. It might not be her, Henry. Twenty-eight years is a long time to be away, and then the time she was in the-"
Henry sniffled and blinked dark eyes at her. "In the dungeon," he finished for her. The boy took a deep breath and exhaled harshly against the echoing stone walls around them. "She hates me," he finally concluded.
"No, no Henry," Emma replied earnestly, forcing him back into her arms. The contact had always felt almost foreign to her in Storybrooke, like something that was reserved for other people; people who hadn't abandoned their children to a social worker and the foster system at birth. "Regina, she...she doesn't hate you; she loves you. She loved you so much that she tried to drive me out of Storybrooke; she loves you, buddy."
"I laughed," he admitted softly, head drooping to his chest. "When the guards shoved her down and she looked at me, I laughed at her. I- I thought she was evil. I didn't see that she was still my mom."
There was nothing she could say to assuage his guilt, certainly not her old standby of, 'oh, kid' that would do nothing but diminish the seriousness of their conversation to a superficial level. The little Prince had been so distracted by his childlike innocence and vague sense of right and wrong based on the concepts of predominant concepts of good and evil depicted in fairy tale books. The morals portrayed were set in stone; evil was evil and good was good, with no room for redemption or failure of either side. Emma trained her gaze on the guards that swarmed through the room, set on a mission by the Queen to determine the strength of their forces. The guards largely ignored the Princess and Prince on the cold stone floor, much like they did every day. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Granny conversing with the Captain of the Guard, motioning erratically to the open windows overlooking the lush green valleys below the castle walls. "We're going to make this right, Henry. I promise."
She rose, silently cursing the flowing silk of the dress she had been all but forced into. Her jeans would have been welcomed, leather jacket, too, if only to make her feel more like the woman she was in the other world. Emma glared down at the light blue chiffon and willed herself into her other clothes. Nothing happened. With a grunt, she tugged Henry up by his hand and forced him out of the throne room, fully intending on ridding them of the clothes of this world. They didn't belong here, not like this. The Princess who had been abandoned on the side of the road by her self-serving True Love- pleading parents who didn't bother to think further than their own consideration, and the little boy born to a woman in handcuffs in a lonely room outside of Phoenix, Arizona.
"Where are we going? To Mom's castle?"
Emma snorted lightly and continued to tug him down the maze of hallways to her room. Her clothes were stored in there, hidden in the shadows from Snow's pesky servants determined to eradicate any sign of the other world from the Enchanted Forest. If she were going to be doomed to death, then she was going out in a red leather jacket, white tank, and tight jeans. And Henry, the kid was going to be hand delivered to Regina if her very last breath depended on it looking like he did in Storybrooke, not this faux prince in lambskin and leather. "Change first, then to find out what's happening in that war room."
Henry nodded and followed along without another word. He, too, was curious as to what his grandmother would order in preparation to retaliate to George's threats. Certainly, this was not at all like what he imagined life would be like after the curse broke. Life here was...cruel. The loss of his friends had taught him that and the loss of his mother even more so. Ruby was missing in action, somewhere in the Enchanted Forest running loose or perhaps a victim of the poachers who scoured the lands looking for pelts to sell to the royals at the marketplace; Belle had disappeared from her cottage shortly after his mother's escape from the dungeon, and Rumplestiltskin had finally allowed himself to be imprisoned again to ensure Belle's continued safety.
Instead of her red leather, she changed into a black leather riding coat with tan breeches. Not the wardrobe of a princess, but suitable enough to appease her own appetites without looking like a common mongrel who roamed the marketplace at night (according to Snow). For Henry, she directed him to similar attire, making a mental note to burn the burgundy jacket that was identical to her father's in every little detail down to the silver buttons. When the boy emerged from the changing area, she noted that he looked less like a put-upon Prince and more like the happy-go-lucky kid from Storybrooke. Emma nodded and pointed the way to the makeshift war room, which may or may not have been the secondary dining area.
There were far too many rooms in the castle, the blonde former sheriff concluded as she scowled at an errant bluebird who tracked her progress down the long hallway. The waning light of early evening cut through the open windows, casting strange shadows against the stone walls. For a moment, she looked like a giant and in the next, she resembled the relatively useless dwarves who pledged unerring loyalty to the White Queen. She entered the converted room with a suitable scowl, focusing intently on what appeared to be a giant chess set spread over a map of the Enchanted Forest on the long table. She noted the figurines that depicted various figures most notable in this world, the ones who held magical power or influence enough to make them useful, were strategically placed in the kingdoms.
"Emma, you need to go back to your room," James said in a low voice, pointing the way back out of the room.
"No," she responded flatly and directed Henry to an empty place near the map. "We have just as much right as you to be here. If it's our heads, then it's our plan." The Princess looked to Granny for support but found only her turned head as she consulted with a dwarf about a certain section of the map- a weak spot, most likely. Emma consulted the map with a more critical eye and found several weak points in their defenses. As she glared at her father with unfailing confidence in her decision, she found herself wondering how they managed to keep the kingdom running before Storybrooke with the threats of Regina's army.
The King nodded reluctantly and declared, "Fine, you can stay," with an even more reluctant tongue. He turned back to Granny and gestured to the map. "What can you see?"
The grey-haired woman stabbed at several accessible areas that would prove problematic for the monarch should their enemies learn of the weaknesses. One such was at the northern boundary, an old bunker that had not survived the last war with the Evil Queen. The holding was crumbled, Granny declared, a piece of property that had been allowed to decay when it should have been repaired immediately. She then noted several other areas, villages, whose allegiance was not exclusively tied to White Kingdom but rather split between two rulers.
As Granny rambled on, Emma found herself at the edge of the table, leaning over to inspect several areas that had not been noted in Granny's explanation of their defenses. The packs of wolves that roamed the forest could prove to be problematic since the majority appeared to only serve themselves, and then there was the land that Rumplestiltskin had occupied. Any loyalty there would not be to any monarch, but to whoever held the most power and authority.
"Are you ready to send for Regina's help yet?" Emma inquired to the group, ignoring the glares from the dwarves. She indicated to the map with her index finger, brushing against the problem areas Granny had identified and included a couple of her own. "There are too many soldiers from the other kingdoms, even at in the best possible scenarios, and too many weak spots to cover with the men available from here. If there is any hope of keeping your precious kingdom, it's Regina. Tell her that Henry's life is in danger and she'll be here in the morning with an army-"
Snow slammed her hand against the table, dislodging several key pieces from their positions on the map. "No," she murmured softly into the silence that engulfed the room. "I will never place my life in that...that woman's hand again. She won't come, Emma; do you not understand that? She will wait on the sidelines until the kingdom falls and George declares himself victor. When the royal family is nothing but heads on spikes adorning the front wall then she will swoop in and reclaim the throne, but she will never ride to our aid."
"Give her a chance," Emma pleaded, wrapping a protective hand over Henry's shoulders. Her son didn't deserve this, not to be held in the middle of an age old feud like a pawn. "She has something riding on this, too. She will come for Henry-"
"And to watch the rest of us burn," Snow finished in a small voice. "Regina has already betrayed this family once when offered a second chance. After everything, she wouldn't risk coming to our aid now. I think we can all assume that the northern forces will ride with George, which means we will need protection along that corridor as well as the others." She dropped another piece on the map, effectively boxing in the Summer Palace. "Is there any chance that the wolves will side with us?"
Granny shook her head slowly and nodded to the various pieces depicting the caves where the packs housed themselves. Among them was the pack her own daughter had led before her death, killed by her granddaughter to save the White Queen. The pack would likely side with George, if asked. "Not enough to make a difference," she said thickly. "Individual wolves, those not associated with any of the known packs, might feel enough loyalty to the lands to want to preserve them from a new monarch, but the packs are already aligned elsewhere or only concerned with their own wellbeing. They'll stay out of the way and wait for the end of the war before declaring themselves an ally to the victor."
"We're screwed then," Emma interjected, ignoring the callous looks from those around her regarding her language. She had not been born royal and after twenty-eight years, it was a fool's errand to expect her to change now. "Everyone who could've been an ally has already chosen to place their bets on better odds, and you won't send up a damn flock of pigeons to contact the one person who could save our asses because of your pride."
"Crows," one of the dwarves corrected. "The crows are the sign of distress here, Princess. You would do well to remember that."
An eyebrow arched in response but the blonde held her tongue. No matter the bird, she was fairly sure Regina would at least materialize long enough to whisk Henry away from danger. Instead, she turned to the open window and surveyed the land. From the window, she could see out to the stables and pastures below; foals frolicked through the green grass while the white stallions grazed nearby. A single dark bay stallion rested on the very edge of the pasture, a rider atop the broad-backed beast. If they were damned, then her son did not need to hear the particulars of their impending doom. "I'm taking Henry out to the pastures," she said quietly, not quite meeting her mother's eyes as she directed the boy out of the room, hand on his shoulder.
Once they were outside the door, Henry turned his head upwards to focus on his blonde mother. "What happened?" He asked innocently.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Emma replied harshly, stomping through the halls until her footsteps echoed. She scowled at portraits of the fallen kings and queens that adorned the wall, adding an extra swivel to her hips when they passed by her grandfather's portrait with her grandmother. The Evil Queen had been eradicated from the walls long ago but that failed to dispel her ire over the events in the war room. Snow would let the kingdom fall rather than ask for help from the one who had betrayed her long ago, even at the expense of her daughter and grandson's lives. "Keep walking, kid. I think I saw something out in the field."