A/N I came up with this idea a while back, and considered doing something with it in IM, but decided to make it a creation of it's own. I sincerely hope you all enjoy it, and I will do my best to update whenever a drabble sparks or is prompted. Young Emma is certainly an interesting one.
~Her Madjesty
The earliest memory Emma has is a dim one, of a dim room filled with way too many people. She's alone, and scared, and doesn't know where she is or what she's supposed to do.
It's in one moment that she's huddled in a corner when someone—she's not sure who—but someone comes up to her, takes her hand, and leads her away to a quiet room where she can catch her breath and finally breathe, away from all those loud, noisy people.
The person who's led her away is a little boy, not too much older than her, and he shushing her and patting her hair and telling her everything's going to be okay. She's sniffling into his odd little jacket and, finally, he says something that surprises her:
"What kind of person do you want to be today, Emma?"
She looks at him like he's crazy, and clearly he is, with his odd little jacket and odd little hat. "What do you mean?" she says, sniffling a little.
The boy repeats his question, and Emma is stumped. He laughs at her and kneels before her, looking her in the eyes.
"It's like playing pretend." He struggles to explain, a little grin trickling onto his face. "What kind of person do you want to be today? A mommy, a firefighter, a superhero…?" he trails off, goofy grin growing on his face.
Emma gasps in understanding and giggles. "I want to be a princess!" she says, clapping her hands together and grinning like the stars and sun have taken the place of her smile. The little boy smiles back and places her on the bedside beside him.
"Well, Princess Emma." He says, his voice coiffed and firm, making Emma giggle. "You're first ball is tonight. What are you doing in those silly clothes?"
"Silly!" Emma giggles again. "This is my prettiest gown, sir!" She hops off the bed and curtsies perfectly before the lad. Before she knows it she's dancing around the room, spinning in circles while imaginary music plays.
Finally, she wears herself out and collapses back onto the bed, where the boy is sitting and laughing. She smiles up at him and curls into his lap, and he holds her for a little while.
"I've missed you, Emma." He pats her golden hair as she starts to doze.
She wakes up alone, back in her bed with the other children in the house.
She often wonders if her first memory is nothing but a dream.