Princess Emma is nine years old the day she disappears.
To this day, the only witness accounts come from the frantic and trembling words of party guests, who still swear everything just happened so fast, they don't know what they saw.
The one thing everyone can agree on, however, is how it began.
The grand hall is light brightly, the musicians are loud, and the dancing is joyous. The young princess dances on the feet of her father until he picks her up and throws her into the air, spinning as he catches her. Her laughter rings out like a little bell, filling the ballroom.
The princess is still laughing when the music stops.
Slowly, the king lowers her onto the floor, worriedly glancing over his shoulder to where his wife sits on the throne.
Purple plumes of smoke begins to snake through the room, over the feet of dancers and up the walls. It moves leisurely, but with purpose, as if seeking something out.
"Charming," comes the queen's low, warning voice. "She's—"
Suddenly, with a loud, deafening crack, the smoke quickly rolls to the center, morphing into a human shape. Moments later, the clouds reveal a stately woman with bright, red lips and flaming hair that clash violently with the green color of her skin. She clasps her hands together, flicking her gaze around innocently.
"Well, well, well, my pretties, don't tell me you started without me."
"You're not welcome here," Snow shouts, rising from the throne, fists curling.
The witch sighs, seemingly burdened. "I figured as much. But that's never stopped me before." She then uncurls her hands, turning her palms to the ceiling. Flames spark within them, and she sends one of the fireballs into a painting. The party guests scream, ducking out of the way.
"Leave them alone!"
The woman rolls her head towards the direction of the voice, her eyes slowly trailing downwards when there isn't anyone at eye level. The princess stands with her back straight, fists balled, green eyes wide and enflamed. "Oh, my, you are precious. A pity," the witch laughs, lining her palm up for another attack.
Charming dives for his daughter, just barely knocking her out of the fireballs way. "You have to run, Emma, go," he whispers, pushing her to her feet.
"I won't leave you!" She screams, tears pricking painfully at the corners of her eyes.
The witch cackles, throwing her head back as she rises to the ceiling, a ladder of purple smoke beneath her. Charming balks, watching the destruction rain from the witch's fingers. He glances over his shoulder, where his wife has gathered with the Royal Guard, their arrows and swords at the ready. "Emma," he whispers, staring into the wide eyes of his daughter. "You have the birthday present your mother gave you earlier?"
Emma fumbles at her dress pocket, reaching for the ring with the emerald green stone. She closes her grip around it, and it pulses in her palm, warm and soothing. She nods as her father reaches forward to brush the stray blonde hairs from her eyes. "Then you will always find us, as long as you carry it with you. Now, go find Johanna, and get out of here!"
He nudges her out of his arms and watches her slowly back away, casting him one last, fearful glance before turning and darting towards the kitchens. He swivels on his heel, and unsheathes his sword.
Emma never makes it to the kitchens. A boy with scruffy black hair intercepts her, blocking the passageway. She recognizes him as one of Johanna's kitchen boys. Killian, she thinks. "It's not safe, Princess," he yells, reaching for her hand. "The corridors are overrun with the witch's flying beasts!"
"I have to find Johanna," Emma says, her voice breaking as more human screams mingle with vicious, animalistic screeching.
"There's no time, come with me," the boy hisses, leading her down another passageway. "You can escape through the servant's entrance."
She nods, letting him lead her, one hand gripped tightly in his, the other in her pocket, clasped around her mother's ring. Ducking through turns Emma never even knew existed, they run for a few moments until breaking through a door disguised as a painting. It leads them to a small hallway with another door at the end of it. They dash towards it, and fling it open. Like sealing a vacuum, the screaming inside the castle immediately disappears as Killian pushes the secret door closed.
They step into the winter night, their breaths hot before them, the snow crunching beneath their feet.
"What now?" Emma whispers.
"We—" His eyes dart up suddenly, widening as a black silhouette fills the moon, followed by the same shrieking from before. "—Run!"
The flying creature swoops down, chasing them as the two break into a sprint. They make for the pond, just frozen over, knowing that's the fastest way to the castle bridge.
The animal swoops down in front of them, landing with a sickening crunch, it's talons digging into the ice. Slowly, it barrels towards them, pulling back its lips to reveal long, protruding canines wider than her finger. Dimly, Emma recognizes the creature as a monkey.
It crawls forward, not noticing the widening fractures beneath its paws. Killian does, and he reaches for Emma's hand once more. Before he can get out his warning, however, the ice breaks, pulling the monkey down into the water. It scrambles for a moment, desperately reaching for something to hold onto, almost swiping Killian's ankle out from under him. Emma pulls him back just in time, and the monkey disappears into the icy depths.
For a moment, all is still.
Then, with another deafening crack followed by a fissure that begins to run across the length of the pond, the ice begins to break into great chunks. Grasping Killian's hand tightly, Emma darts across the ice, the splinters in the ground hot on their feet. They just barely make it to the pond's edge, not allowing themselves to stop running even after they reach the gardens. They have to make it to the castle bridge. Maybe if Emma can make it to her godmother's house…
They sprint all the way across the bridge, past the abandoned gates, past the parked carriages and into the market, where there's just as much mayhem as inside the castle. The witch must've hit the town beforehand. Monkeys hang off rooftops, chasing after citizens, screeching up to the moon.
Someone barrels towards them, pulling Emma and Killian apart. Her hand suddenly feels so cold without his there, but the other still grips the ring tightly, as if her life depends on it. "Killian!" She screams, people pushing her farther and farther back into the crowd. "Killia—"
One last push sends Emma falling backwards, her head making contact straight into the corner of a wagon. Her vision clouds, and her world turns black.
You will always find us.
.
.
.
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even though i'm shit at multichapter, i AM considering doing just that with this. wondering where regina is? who the other con man is? what happened to snow and charming?
it won't be a very long fic, but i have some plans. but also you can't hold me to this because i have a finicky muse and commitment issues.
but reviewing will definitely encourage an update. ;)
