Emma arrived to light and laughter.

The sun was almost completely down, leaving only the barest hints of purple on the western skyline, but there was no lack of illumination for the party. The grand ballroom's three chandeliers had been loaded with double the usual wicks, and the rest of the room was ablaze with artful displays of candles kept regularly burning by servants that scurried to replace them before they burnt out. And in between the candles flowed an ocean of color and sound; nobles and royalty from all of the bordering kingdoms and principalities, as well as several from the more distant ones, had attended to display their good will and support. The firelight glinted off of miles and miles of colored gossamer and lace as the guests wove in between each other, accompanied by the dull murmur of conversation and laughter. The vast majority of the guest list seemed to be present, near as Emma could tell, and although the official celebration rituals did not seem to have begun, there were a number of guests––primarily the younger ones––that had taken it upon themselves to make use of the slow music and begin a single small waltz ring in the far corner. Not at all organized, and certainly not officiated by any of the native guests; the dance had sprung into existence as a way to alleviate boredom until the ball got off the ground.

After all, a ball couldn't very well begin when the birthday girl wasn't there.

Extremely self-conscious about her tardiness, Emma tried her best to keep her head down as she slipped into the crowd, hoping to find her parents before she was found by anyone else.

"Emma! There you are!"

It was a dream cut short by a head of bouncing yellow curls that came towards her armed with a dazzling smile. She was a graceful woman, young, with brown eyes and round cheeks that seemed to have been made exclusively for the purpose of smiling. Her dress was marginally more expensive-looking than most, with generous ribbons and lace to frame sky-blue satin. It was a dress Emma recognized as the signature shape and color of another, different, older woman, one who stood not far off and was sparing a curious glance Emma's way; Cinderella had heard her daughter's exclamation upon seeing the other princess, and Emma was infinitely thankful that the neighboring queen was not following suit and investigating.

"Alexandra," Emma said, dipping into a respectful curtsey.

"Where have you been?" Alexandra asked, grabbing Emma's hands warmly. "You weren't here––imaging, a princess missing her own birthday party!––but we heard the most terrifying thing from one of the servants. They said that something was going on behind our backs, and that Robin Hood was involved!"

How fast did servants spread rumors, anyway? Emma opened her mouth, but the sudden question had caught her off guard; it took a moment for her to formulate a response, and a moment was all Alexandra needed to jump to conclusions.

"Oh my, he was? That's terrifying! And that… is that where you were? Dealing with Robin Hood?"

"Alexandra, please."

"Emma!" Two more figures had caught sight of her and were heading to join the conversation.

Alexandra waved them over. "Rose! Davan! You would not believe what happened!"

Rose Briar's face lit up. "Is it something to do with where you were? We've all been wondering. Right, Davan?"

Davan, the slender, golden-haired son of King Frederick and Queen Abigail, responded by looking pointedly at his shoes.

"Listen," Emma said, "can we please not talk about this right now? I'm very glad you're all here, and I'm very sorry I'm so late; there were some things I had to take care of. I had no choice."

Alexandra shot her a knowing look, then nodded seriously at Rose and Davan. "Official business."

"Really?" Rose's eyebrows shot up. "Well, that's nice and mysterious of you. Tease."

Emma gave Alexandra a grateful glance. "Sorry. I would love to talk, but I should probably find my parents and let them know I'm here before they break out the rangers and hunting dogs. Have you seen them tonight?"

Rose nodded. ""Yes, I believe they're further back in the room. Locked in a conversation with your parents," she looked at Davan with amusement glittering in her eyes, "last I saw."

"Let's find them!" Alexandra exclaimed, grabbing Emma's hand again and leading the group deeper into the ballroom. Emma had loosed herself from the other Alexandra's grip within a few seconds, but the presence of Rose and Davan still managed to corral her to where they wanted to go.

She had to be polite. This was an important political function. She had to be polite. It was just one night.

Emma's parents were in the far back of the room, talking animatedly with a laughing King Frederick and Queen Abigail. It was Abigail that noticed the approaching knot of royal children first, catching sight of her son and then of those he was accompanied by.

"Hello Davan, dear. And Emma, there you are!"

Snow White and David turned immediately, relief clouding their faces when they spotted their daughter.

"Emma," Snow sighed, breaking away from the conversation and stepping forward to greet the wayward princess. "Your father and I were worried."

"Yes, sorry about that. There was a situation in the dungeon."

"Robin Hood was there!" Alexandra blurted.

There was a collective gasp. Emma cringed. "It was nothing. A negotiation. It's over. No one was hurt. There is no damage. It was a… misunderstanding."

David, ever the protective father, opened his mouth with that distressed look that heralded an incoming interrogation, but was interrupted by Snow, who took her husband's arm with one hand and her daughter's with the other.

"Let's talk about this," Snow said with a somewhat weary smile. "Tomorrow. I think your father can survive until then. Tonight, let's not worry about anything if it's all over. You, especially. Tonight is your birthday, Emma. Let's just have a good time; everything else can wait."

Emma glanced uncertainly at her father, who in turn glanced uncertainly at Snow. The two of them grew still, having another one of those conversations with their eyes, before David relaxed in reluctant agreement. Emma let out a breath of relief she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Yeah," Emma said. "Let's."

The majority of their audience let out a sigh of disappointment, but no questions came; Snow's decision was one they would abide by. Tomorrow was when the real gossip would begin.

Tomorrow, however, was still a night away.

"Well," David said, swallowing down his unease. "Now that we have you here, what do you say we begin the ball in earnest?"

Emma blushed and nodded sheepishly. When no protests came, David turned and made his way to the raised gazebo in the center of the room. It was a structure that had seen many rituals in its time, not the least of which was the marriage of Snow White and Prince Charming, and tonight it would see the next advent of their daughter's birth. David stepped onto the circular platform, signaling for the musicians to halt and for the heralds to raise their trumpets and announce his presence. The room went silent, relieved for their ball to finally be starting, and all present turned to look at the king.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" he called out. "I have some words I'd like to say before we get underway." A moment's pause to make sure that he had the ears of everyone in his audience. "First of all, it's wonderful to see everyone enjoying themselves, and our family is immensely thankful that all of you have come. This is a special time, and we are blessed to be surrounded by such special friends." Another pause, and then he looked straight at Emma. "It's been many years since we first welcomed our daughter Emma into this world, and now look where she stands; twenty-eight, strong, beautiful, and praying that her father doesn't embarrass her in front of so many people."

A murmur of laughter rippled throughout the room.

"This has not been an easy path," David continued. "As many of you know, our kingdom hasn't always been the most… unified. And much hardship has been endured by many people, born in many places, to see this peace that has graced us. And looking around at my lovely daughter and at all of these wonderful people that have come to celebrate her and to honor us, I feel too grateful to put into words. So really, all I can say is thank you for your friendship and your support, because many kingdoms make up a land as tranquil as ours. And through the perseverance and determination of all of our kingdoms, this is a peace that has lasted for more years than I'm sure anyone would care to count. Thank you."

He stepped down to a roar of pleased applause, smiling encouragingly at his daughter as she took a deep breath, gathered her bravery and stepped onto the raised platform of the gazebo. Rehearsed words ran through her head, tumbling over each other frantically.

No. She had practiced this. It was all memorized. She would be fine.

Taking a deep breath, Emma looked up to face an entire ballroom of onlookers. "Well, doing my best to follow that up…"

Another ripple of laughter, which was enough to give her some small drop of hope.

"There's not a lot I can say that my father didn't just take right out of my mouth, but here's to trying my best. Thank you, first of all. Seeing so many people coming here and connecting with each other, laughing, making that little rogue waltz in the corner…"

More laughter, as well as a few guilty blushes.

"I really feel so honored that you all are here, and that you're having such a good time. Because celebrations are really about the people there that are celebrating together and making memories. And you have come here from so many places, not just to celebrate my birthday, but to celebrate each other, and all the friendships we share. And I am honored that my birthday can be that stage for everyone, so that we can all remember what really matters: the connections we make with one another, and the bonds that bring so many strong kingdoms together. Thank you."

She stepped down to her own round of applause, lightheaded and uncertain of whether or not her feet were actually touching the ground. Her father was there, and seemed to read her thoughts; with a warm smile he put a supportive arm around her shoulder and kept her steady before swiping a glass of wine from a nearby tray and holding it high.

"To the friends we are thankful for!" he called out.

"To friends!" the room chorused back.

With the speeches given, the guests turned to each other to begin the ball in earnest. Snow waved to a servant, who darted away to start the long procession of food that would serve as the first event. Guests made their way to the long tables at the sides of the room, where there was already activity to fill up glasses and pull out chairs for the glittering nobles to be seated. David guided his daughter to where Snow was waiting, and within moments Emma was wrapped in an embrace.

"I'm so proud of you, Emma," Snow whispered.

"Thanks, mother."

The family took their seat at the end of one of the tables; as the subject of the celebration, Emma of course was the one that had to take the one-person width of the table's end so that she could see everyone else there, and so everyone else could see her. At her right sat her parents, and almost immediately the chair at her left was shadowed by the golden form of Prince Davan.

"Prince-Princess Emma," he stuttered, eyes flicking back and forth from hers to the open plate with the speed of a nervous sparrow. "Would you––would it––may I have the honor… can I sit here?" He froze at his less than spectacular finish, fixing Emma with a gaze similar to that of a terrified deer.

It was Snow that provided him with his answer. "Of course," she said, gesturing for him to sit. "We'd love to have you here."

Davan shuffled awkwardly into his chair. Snow shot a knowing smirk at her daughter, but hid it when Davan's parents made to follow.

"David!" Queen Abigail said, taking a seat next to her son while her husband took a seat next to her. "Those were fine words up there." She looked at Emma. "Yours, too. I've never ceased to be amazed by your family's gift for rhetoric."

Emma refrained from revealing that it had been her father who had made up most of her own speech, instead nodding respectfully. "Thank you, Queen Abigail. We're all glad you came."

"Oh, we wouldn't have missed it for the world!" the golden-haired woman replied. "The pirate problem has been taking up so much time at home; it's been making it too easy to come up with excuses not to visit. Really, we should be seeing each other much more often; it is an absolute delight to attend!" She cast a meaningful glance at her son. "For some even more than others."

Davan's face turned an almost instantaneous shade of crimson, and his eyes remained resolutely fixed on his plate. Emma resisted the urge to fidget uncomfortably.

"Yes, we've been hearing about that," Snow said, brow furrowing. "Such a shame. Is there any word on what might be causing it?"

"No more than rumors; there aren't any more ships, as near as we can tell, there are just some that have decided to become more… proactive."

David shook his head. "Bad luck. My sympathies."

King Frederick shrugged with a mirthless chuckle. "It's to be expected, I suppose. My father-in-law can turn things into gold, after all. If it's not pirates, it's bandits; we've always had problems with scum of one sort or another."

"Let's not talk about this, though," Abigail cut him off with a shake of her head. "It's far too somber a topic for a birthday. Besides, the first course is being brought out."

The subject of pirates was laid to rest as the first of the food was filed into the ballroom and presented. The display was an elaborate layout of fruits, vegetables and cheeses, meant to be taken in small portions to whet the appetite and quiet noisy stomachs before the thick of the meal. Centerpieces were made of artfully arranged forests of greens, peppered carefully by the off-setting colors of fruits; peaches, plums, apples, every display had a different signature fruit, and around the base lay clusters of grapes of varying colors. Conversation throughout the guests ebbed for a moment as everyone collected their own array of appetizers, then swelled again when their food was in their possession.

"Emma," Davan blurted suddenly, drawing her attention. "I mean, princess… I'm sorry. Princess Emma, your speech was… I was inspired. It was inspiring."

"... Thank you."

"You have good rhetoric. No, I mean… your rhetorical skills are… strong."

Emma dipped her head. "Thank you, prince Davan. To be honest, I was more than a little worried when I stepped up there."

His tension seemed to ebb for a moment. "Worried? There's no reason for you to worry. It was wonderful." But then his uneasiness caught up to him and he looked back down at his plate. "I'd like more of your rhetoric," he mumbled quietly.

Emma leaned closer, not quite certain she had heard him correctly. "What was that?"

"May we dance?" he said a bit too loudly, drawing the attention of both of their parents. "I mean, not now, but… later when there's dancing, can we… may I have the honor of a dance? With you?"

Emma didn't dare look to see the expressions of the four monarchs watching them. "I would like to," she said, keeping her eyes firmly on Davan, whose eyes were now firmly on Emma's plate. "But I'm afraid… earlier tonight, when I was late, I… my foot, I strained it. I don't know if it would be wise to dance tonight."

Davan's face fell, and Emma bit her lip uncertainly. She had to be polite. This was an important political function. It was just for one night.

"But maybe, when the dancing is done… if you'd like, I would like to talk with you. I hear that your coronation is coming up." Davan looked up, signalling for Emma to continue. "Perhaps when you have danced your fill, you would like to join me for some conversation?"

"Yes," was Davan's hasty reply. "That would––yes––I would like that very much."

With her night promised, Emma returned her attention to her food, still refusing to look up at either set of parents. The sharpness of the cheese was enough of a distraction, and she decided to pass the time trying to figure out what combinations of things would be nice. She spend the rest of the course silently experimenting with grapes and lettuce.

The second course was somewhat heavier than the first, although still remained rather light; broth and thin soups replaced plants and dairy, along with bread and garnishes. David struck up a conversation with Frederick about the difficulty of managing roadside bandits, which Abigail and Snow soon took part in, and it gave Emma some comfort to know that she was no longer under direct observation. She could feel Davan's relief, as well; his nervous constitution was done no favors by the surveillance of her parents. While Emma did not have much in common with the golden-haired prince, the scrutiny of their families was something neither of them liked one bit. It was enough of a starter for her to look over to him and watch as he picked lethargically at his soup, dipping the occasional cracker but otherwise content to swirl it with his spoon.

"Is the soup not to your liking?" Emma asked.

Davan looked up, apparently surprised that Emma would voluntarily open a dialogue. After a moment of stunned silence, he shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'm just not hungry."

"It's alright," Emma said, grasping for anything that might keep the unbearable silence away for longer. "I don't much like soup, either." To demonstrate, she set down her spoon and pushed her delicious-looking soup away.

This seemed to inspire at least a smidge of confidence in the prince, who nodded. "What about turkey? Do you like turkey?"

"I do like turkey. What about you?"

And so began their conversation for the night as each revealed what foods they liked or did not like. Emma did her best to try and fit her tastes to his––if he said he didn't like something, she would profess dislike for it, too. And, by some strange coincidence, whenever she conveyed displeasure at foods she actually didn't like, he would usually agree with her and dislike the same thing.

Emma silently praised whatever gods were watching over her when the main course made its way out and put a stop to it.

This one was the heaviest of the courses, filled with meat and dough and potatoes. Warm and thick, with centerpieces of animals roasted whole and posed in the middle of fantastic arrangements of tubers and cooked vegetables. Every piece had a different beast; a boar at the far end, a re-feathered peacock not ten feet down the table, two roosters locked in a motionless battle––Graham had outdone himself on the hunt for this meal. The variety was astounding.

But Emma hadn't entirely been expecting the swan to be lain in before her and their two families, fully feathered and nestled in a piled of boiled eggs.

"Oh my!" Abigail exclaimed in admiration. "What a beautiful display! I feel almost ashamed to cut into it."

David laughed. "Then allow me to be the first to be ashamed. Soup and salad doesn't exactly fill a man up." He picked up the knife and began to peel away the swan's feathers and shear off slices of the breast meat.

"Emma?" It was Davan, low and curious.

Emma jumped, startled. She hadn't realized she had been staring at their centerpiece. "Yes. Sorry. What?"

"Are you alright?" He looked concerned.

"Yes." Emma nodded. "I'm fine."

Davan accepted her words and nodded, reaching to take a piece of the bird.

Emma's appetite seemed to have fled at the arrival of the swan, although she managed a few potatoes and some carrots. The rest of the meal went by in relative silence for her; Snow managed to lure Davan into a conversation about his relationships with the monarchs of other kingdoms, leaving Emma alone to a relatively empty plate. Finally, guests began to rise from their seats as they finished with their meal and servants emerged from the kitchens carrying platters of pastries and dry wines to end the dinner. Abigail and Frederick were first to leave the conversation and venture towards the center of the ballroom where the first dance was making ready to start, and after a few moments were tailed by Davan and then by Snow and David. Now burdened by her tale of an injured foot, Emma remained seated. Not that she minded; the princess had managed her entire life with only nine dances in all of the balls she had ever attended, and she had no desire to end her record now.

Her mother, she knew, loved dancing, although she admittedly had a habit for rewriting the steps halfway through, while her father was content with following Snow's lead and doing what made his wife happy. Abigail and Frederick, however, proved to be much more traditional and formal after a few rounds, a trait that they shared with their son. Although it might have been the case that Davan simply didn't know any other way to dance, which was probably why the poor man looked absolutely terrified when Snow cut into his waltz with his mother and swept him away, much to everyone's amusement. There was a ripple as the ring adjusted to the sudden disruption, but most of them were familiar with Snow White's whimsical regard for balls and had no trouble with it, much to the fearful dismay of Davan.

Having decided that her evening was due for a break, Abigail spent a few moments watching her son and her friend before turning and making her way away from the dance floor––and straight towards Emma, who remained at the now-clear dinner table.

"Emma!" Abigail said breathlessly the moment she was in earshot. "Do you mind if I join you for a moment?"

"Getting your second wind?" Emma asked with a small smile.

"Of course. I'm not finished yet." The queen gave her a wink before sitting in the next chair over. "This is really quite a lovely ball, Emma."

"Thank you. I can't take much credit, though; I'm not very good at planning events."

"You're good at leading them, though."

Emma looked down, feeling a blush creep into her face. Abigail saw it and chuckled. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's not even that surprising, really. I know that our family doesn't visit yours as much as we should, and I am sorry about that. Your father saved my husband's life and returned him to me, and that is something for which we both will be forever grateful."

Emma nodded, familiar with the story. "It was the honorable thing to do."

Abigail gave her a soft smile. "You are so similar to your father, Emma. And your mother, too. I have known you since you were a little one, and every time I see you I am impressed anew. You have grown into such a beautiful and graceful woman, it's difficult to put into words. You are strong and kind and courteous, and you are an inspiration."

Emma knew that her face was at least strawberry in color by now. Abigail noticed, and it made her smile even wider.

"Emma." Abigail reached forward and took Emma's hands. Emma stiffened, but couldn't do the offense of pulling them away; the queen didn't seem to notice her discomfort with the touch, and continued without concern. "I know that this is a large event for you, and you undoubtedly have many things ahead to prepare yourself for the crown, whenever your parents decide you are ready. But Davan's coronation is next month, and we would be honored for you to attend. Our families have always been close. Perhaps it's time to bring them even closer."

Emma blinked, not quite taken off guard but not quite expecting the proposal, either. Going to a coronation… it didn't sound like something particularly enjoyable, but… it was important. Emma had had her fair share of birthday balls and even a few naming ceremonies, but a coronation was different. A coronation was attended by monarchs and lords, there to solidify alliances and establish a rapport with the new king or queen. Coronations were attended by people with power. Emma's parents were the ones that were invited to coronations; a princess did not have influence worthy of attendance, not until she became a queen herself and had something to offer.

With such a weighty invitation suddenly given to her, how could she refuse? Did she want to refuse?

It didn't matter what she wanted. She couldn't refuse.

"I'll… talk to my parents about it. Yes. I'll work on figuring out… logistics. It's a bit… much, to figure out so quickly."

Abigail nodded. "I completely understand, Emma. And I hope it is possible. Everyone knows how busy you keep yourself, even as a princess." Her expression changed to one of coy playfulness. "I'm sure Davan will be happy to hear the good news."

Davan. Emma had almost forgotten; it was his coronation. She nodded dumbly, and Abigail stood up with a chuckle.

"Well," the queen sighed, turning to return to the dancing. "I think I've gotten that second wind. I'm sorry about your foot, Emma; keep it rested, dear. Such a pity you pulled it on the night of your birthday."


As always, constructive criticism appreciated.