Part I: The Knight and Her Son
Chapter 2 of 2: The Knight Relents
"I think you're ready."
Emma looked at her son. He still had that infuriating Mills' snark etched onto her clearly Swan face. It was sickening, yet endearing somehow both at the same time.
"Ready for what, kid?"
"To come out…" she just knew the little punk was purposely putting that gap there, "…with the truth."
"Truth?" Emma was confounded or at least attempting to be. She knew Henry was going to start raving about his White Knight mumbo-jumbo. But, she needed to sound appalled nevertheless.
If he figures it out…do I just lie to him? Wait…figure what out? Shut up, Swan. Thinking too much on things…no, don't even finish that thought. Shut it.
"Can it, Ma. I want you to only listen now. Uh-uh, no interrupting. Henry Mills has the floor.
"I told you I firmly believe you are the White Knight. That the White Knight−you−existed back in the Enchanted Forest during the days when Mom was queen. Somehow, you are here though and as confusing as it is, I have theories as to how. I also have such evidence as to why I know what I know. Yeah…I got that evidence you wanted, Sheriff Mom:
"It started when you came back from your forty-minute mope in the park after you said we were going to go back to New York…"
He saw his blonde mother approaching the diner from his seat at the window. She was alone despite having watched the pirate trail after her with his storybook immediately when she had stormed off. Emma stumbled into the diner, scanning her eyes to the back then setting them on Henry and the rest of the family in the front. Odd…it was as if she did not recall that they were seated in the front of the diner. Yet, not surprising when it comes to people, people can easily forget such things as placements.
But, Henry found something amiss…
Something peculiar…
It was the look in her eyes.
Emma Swan's eyes were at war with another.
Or at least, that was what the young boy envisioned in his own mind when looking at her eyes. It was as if she was internally struggling with none other than herself. He could not pinpoint her emotions as every single one of them bounced from one eye to the other.
Yet, it was also as if recognition was lost in her eyes; it appeared that she just could not make sense of things. Her eyes were frantic and at the same time, calm. Angry, yet full of happiness. It was astonishing. But what Henry could see in her eyes was something he had seen before. Something onlyhe, Henry Daniel Mills, could recognize in the eyes of others:
Confliction.
It was the eyes−they were orbs that told of an immense internal conflict; two conflicting personas constantly struggling neigh fighting for complete and utter dominance; desperately trying to rid oneself of the other. Total control. But which could win? Who would win?
It was the look everyone in Storybrooke had after Emma broke the curse. He noticed it mostly in Mary Margaret. She remembered who she was−Snow White−but that was conflicting with who she had been for twenty-eight years−Mary Margaret Blanchard. "Is" and "Was" were not supposed to mix, yet here they were.
Having grown-up in a dismal town where everything and everyday was practically the same, Henry developed a keen sense of profiling, so to speak. He could read people almost as easily as he read his storybook. And when all the fairy tale characters sprung fourth of their cursed selves, he could instantaneously spot the change. But, the townsfolk never saw it. How could they? Even with a mirror, one cannot gaze into their own souls via their eyes like a third party could. Henry was that third party. He was the one−the only one−who could see the confliction.
And that was his first clue that something was amiss with Emma Swan.
Her eyes were no longer hers…
"So Ma, have you decided?" Henry asked his mother as she stood awkwardly in front of the table she was sat at quite comfortably only forty minutes ago.
"Decided what?"
"Um…decided that we are not going back to New York and staying here?"
"Yes, Miss Swan? Because apparently solely you have a say in this...as if you have any leg-"
"Regina!" Mary Margaret cut off the mayor least any incivilities ensue at the diner between said mayor and the sheriff.
"We're staying. This is home. Why would we leave?" Emma took her seat across from her son and mother right next to her father, seemingly ignoring the older woman altogether, eyes fixated on Henry.
Her eyes…he could see them…or at least right through them and into her soul. The confliction was clear as day. But what does it mean? Why do her eyes look like everyone else's now? She was only gone for forty damn minutes!
"You wanted to take me back to New York and then stormed off? Remember?"
"Oh yeah…sorry, my brain is rattled right now."
"Are you okay, sweetie?" Her mother asked.
"Yeah. Just peachy."
"But you weren't…were you, Ma?" Henry had finished his monologue to Emma. During it, she had turned from looking at her son to gaze at the pastures.
"…Am I allowed to respond?"
"Sure."
"I was, then."
"Liar."
"…"
"I inherited your superpower, ya know? That's what made this whole thing even easier." Henry was smirking, she just knew it. She still refused to turn to face him.
"Of course you did, kid. So…you say my eyes are different now?"
"Yes. Which explains why you won't turn to me right now, doesn't it? I made you aware. Your eyes changed within forty minutes from just normal eyes to something more."
"I'm gonna need more than that for evidence of my apparent knighthood."
"Oh don't worry. I have plenty." Henry shuffled about and leaned against the fence with his back as Emma was still against it with her front.
"Then by all means, proceed." Let's get this over with…I'm sure I can come up with a little white lie…white…uuugh…Luckily her son continued rather quickly, pulling Emma from her mind.
"The second thing I noticed was what gave me my theory…you know my storybook, right?"
It always would come back to the storybook. It was what started it all and it only makes sense that it would start something again…
Henry had convinced his blonde mother to let him stay that night at his brunette mother's house. It did not take much convincing as Regina practically demanded it. Emma was quick to back down as it was what Henry wanted and thus that was what he got.
Despite his mother "dating" (if that's what they called it as the very idea of his mother dating was such a foreign concept to him) Robin Hood, the noble thief did not come home with them and was in fact quickly dismissed at the diner when Henry and Regina departed for the mansion. They both went upstairs into their respective rooms to get ready for the night before a movie at Henry's insistence.
It was when he threw his jacket and scarf onto his bed that he noticed it:
His storybook!
The very same one that he had lent to Hook earlier that evening to convince Emma of her lineage and remind her where her family was.
But, why was it here?
He had yet to receive it back from the Captain…did Hook sneak into his home to drop it off? But then again, where was the damn pirate anyway?
However, did Henry really care? No, he supposed not…not now at least. He could ask questions later.
Now, what he actually wanted to do was get all snuggly in some pajamas, grab a cup of hot chocolate dashed with cinnamon, and curl up on the couch with his mother and watch a movie.
Yet, the book was just lying there. Taunting him so to speak. Calling him. And he responded because after not remembering for what felt like his entire life, and having "awoken" from false (or were they merely altered?) memories, Henry also wanted nothing more than to rifle through his book for old time's sake.
He flipped through the pages at random a few times. His intimacy with this book was perplexing: he knew the book from front to back…and then some. He did not possess an eidetic memory per say, but he could recall every word, any line, and each picture in the story book vividly.
And that was when he noticed it.
He had stopped at the tale of Snow White. It was instinctual really as this was his family's history in novel form. He was skimming through the paragraphs of a young Snow, her father King Leopold, and his wife, Eva.
But it went on.
Introducing the royal family was nothing new to him…but what happened after that mere introduction was completely…new.
It was a depiction of someone called the White Knight…
It read that the White Knight was the bravest, most loyal knight that served under King Leopold. Specifically, the knight was in charge of the King's daughter's protection, probably hence the name "white." In the picture that accompanied the page was the royal family in the forefront (again nothing out of the ordinary) but had this White Knight in the background on a sandy-colored horse. The knight was clad in armor with a helm to match, marring any distinct features.
"Henry."
He looked up to see his mother in his doorway.
"I'll be down in five. Can we watch A Knight's Tale?"
"Of course, my prince."
After the movie, Regina and Henry ascended the staircase to bed. Henry, despite his age, had asked to be tucked in to which the brunette happily obliged. Just as he had situated himself under the covers and Regina having kissed his forehead, Henry decided to take a chance:
"Mom?"
"Yes, Henry?" She stood in the doorway now.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course. Anything at all."
"Umm…it's about the Enchanted Forest…"
"It's alright, Henry. Ask away. Anything."
"Well, it's about your time as Queen." Regina faltered a bit but quickly composed herself. She motioned for her son to continue.
"Do you remember someone known as the White Knight? He or she would have been Grandma's own personal guard or something?"
It was a split second but that was all it took. If he did not notice his mother's quick change in stance when he brought up her Evil Queen days, he definitely took notice now. It was barely noticeable and in fact, to anyone other than himself (and maybe his other mother) they would not have caught it. Regina's eyes scrunched a bit and her lips thinned into a barely visible fine line. Sadness reached eyes for just a fraction of a millisecond. She quickly placated her expression back to her typical poker face.
"I don…I-I don't know what you're talking about, Henry." Weird, he thought, her voice almost quivered.
"Mom…no more lying, please."
Regina was silent for a minute until she swayed over to sit on the edge of his bed.
"Okay…I promised. But…" she hesitated before looking at him, "I can only tell you some things."
"Okay," Henry knew if he pressed the wrong button, his mother would shut down so he could most certainly settle for a few things.
"She."
"Sorry?"
"The White Knight was a woman…the only female guard in the kingdom. But she was ten times the knight any man was."
"Did you know her?"
"…"
"Mom," he pushed.
"Yes?"
"Were you friends?"
"Sort of."
It was not a lie that he was sure of. Like Emma, Henry knew exactly when Regina lied nowadays. Since he had Regina talking he decided to press a few more, praying silently that he would garner more information but altogether, somewhat fine if his mother stopped.
"Is she here? Like, was she brought over with the first curse?"
"No." Again, she was not lying. Well, he made it this far:
"What happened to her?" Henry was just curious now.
He had once called Emma the White Knight back during the first curse, when he was so convinced (and right!) that everyone was a character from a fairy tale. He thought that he just randomly gave Emma the name, as some form of encouragement−attempting to sway the protagonist to start their journey−comparing Emma to a pure hero or some other thing little kids make-up to sound all cutesy and to simply get what they want from a parent. He had never imagined the White Knight to actually exist…and he believed in fairy tale characters!
Yet, here they were…the White Knight apparently being one of them just like his mother…and his other mother's parents.
Regina rose from the bed and made her way to the door, gazing back at her son with one palm against the door frame.
"She's dead."
And with that, the Queen departed, flipping the lights off and closing the door behind her, all before Henry had a chance to comment.
"So…"
"So."
"…if what your mother says is true, then I'm obviously not this dead White Knight," Emma deadpanned, still keeping her sights forward.
"Oh, I guess you didn't get it, then," and oh man, the belittling sarcasm dripping from his words was almost too much to bear.
"Well…you are obviously going to tell me so just get on with it."
"It was the way Mom "claimed" the Knight to be "dead." It was as if she didn't actually know if the knight was dead nor alive. It's like how you can't tell when your superpower isn't working−it's going haywire; spinning in all directions. But, you know the person isn't lying but they also don't seem to be telling the truth. Which, this just means that they don't actually know what is true and what is fiction. It's what is going on with Mom. She just thinks the White Knight is dead because maybe, that's what she was told…but she is clearly not convinced or at the very least, is in denial," he gasped, having never stopped once to take a breath during his speech.
"And you got all that from just two words?"
"Yeah."
That was it. Just…yeah.
"I'm still not convinced, kid. How could I be this knight? This dead knight. I'm alive…I hope you know. I'm not Gold…coming back from the dead and all that. I've been in this world my entire life save for like the first ten minutes and then that time me and Snow spent in the Enchanted Forest after the Wraith. I couldn't possibly have been a knight thirty odd years ago…I'm exactly 30!"
"You're 31, Ma."
Good, that's what he's gonna comment on…nice one, Swan.
"Anyway…"
Henry trailed off, not finishing his thought, just letting his unfinished sentence hang. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone. Really? Again with the phone? Effing teenagers…
"First…I feel it's prudent…yes, Emma, prudent…it means we're gonna play it safe and start here...a little out of order than I'd like to go but we need to start here…which is that we need to address your sudden change in why twice now you've called Grandma−your mom−Snow. You finally got to the point where you called your parents Mom and Dad but yet, now it's to Snow? I mean come on, calling her Mary Margaret makes sense! That's what you knew her as first! But now it's Snow?" Henry looked up from his phone to face Emma.
Silence filled the air−almost quite literally. The ambiances of nature seemed to even still. Emma remained staring ahead at the grazing horses, mouth closed tight.
You got nothing, Swan. Just let him continue; you'll think of something…
"Second…which is where we will go in order…this is gonna be wordy so pay attention…this is minor, mind you but important nevertheless. You gave a slight tick when I first brought up my operation. You probably don't even realize you did it but…you did. Most people don't even know what their tick is or when they do it…unless of course they are made aware of said tick."
He was grinning.
"And what exactly is mine?"
"Nuh-uh. Not telling. I don't want you aware."
And even more grinning.
"Ugh fine…now what? And hurry up, I'm getting hungry."
Grinning…evilly now…why was she not surprised…genetics had nothing to do with the enigma known as Henry.
"Anyway…for whatever reason you mentioned realms…you said that you were, and I quote, "the strictest single mother in all the realms." Why the hell did you say realms? What even is a realm?"
"Realm is a kingdom. He-who-claims-to-use-advanced-vocab."
Oh that fucker…he totally baited me! Ugh! Okay okay, don't let your panic show.
"Exactly, Emma…why on earth are you talking about kingdoms now and not cities?" His grin was too much; she wanted to comment on her son looking almost like the Joker but could not bring herself to joke as he got her right where he wanted her.
"Because I live in a town full of fucked up fairytale characters…what do you expect, sheesh."
Nice save, Swan. That's good.
"Oh boy, nice save, Ma. Moving on though, to more important matters. Next…" And he was still looking at his phone, save for the few sideway glances he gave to Emma to ensure she actually paid attention, "I watched you and Mom's…confrontation…if you could call it that…back at the station…you totally didn't even bite back! She baited you and everything! But…nothing! No smart-ass retort…nada! You actually listened to her! And you did it twice that day! See the theme? You almost couldn't even bring yourself to…I don't know…disobey or…or disrespect Mom! Like…what the hell? Who are you?!"
"I was just being polite, kid."
"Since when?! Ever since I brought you to Storybrooke, you and Mom have been at ends whether it be actually trying to fight her or just being plain mean to each other. Sure, you two are semi-friends now…but you still practically act the same with each other minus most of the hostility. What gives? Even right when you came back to the diner, you straight up ignored Mom rather than rise to her bait. It was almost like you couldn't bring yourself to look at her now that I think about it. Anyway…You always have a comeback. You also have diarrhea of the mouth and can't stop yourself from spewing what's on the tip of your tongue most of the time!"
"I had a very good walk to clear my head and with that, I wanted to be nicer to Regina."
Emma took a few seconds before she had responded, trying to muster up something that sounded believable, like she had been trying since Henry starting "spewing" his claims. Hopefully, they worked…
…no, she knew she was fucked.
It was worth a shot because she needed to come up with something to deter Henry, to possibly make him at the very least bury his knight hatchet. But man, was the kid perceptive as hell. Even she did not realize all her slip ups until Henry mentioned them. Why would she though? It was not like she even comprehended her constant out-of-character-ness. She thought she was being…well, as normal as Emma Swan could be.
Ugh, this is exhausting. Seriously, who the fuck am I?
"I am just going to ignore you, Ma and carry on with my…interrogation."
"Oh goodie."
Maybe it's time to acknowledge it. That could be less tiresome maybe. And maybe I could get some questions answered. I don't know…what's going on? She sighed.
"Shush. I already told you about how you messed up…which yes, ya did mess up…when you called Mom by her queenly title and not Madame Mayor. I wanted to let you know then that I was even more onto you than you originally thought. Just needed to bring it up again."
He scrolled through his phone. After a good minute of searching, Henry shoved his cell into Emma's unsuspecting hands.
"What?"
"Scroll through my pictures."
"Umm…okay?" Emma did as she was told. The first picture was the one she noticed Henry take back at Granny's the other day; it depicted her boots. "Henry, why do you have a picture of my boots? Like, if you're into photography, that's cool but I don't get it. Photography was never my thing. Makes no sense. It's just a picture."
"Ah, but a picture speaks a thousand words, as the saying goes. And I have tons. But, for you, keep scrolling and keep in mind this is me documenting my evidence. After all, I need not only observe my findings but must jot them down through notes and pictures. Keep going."
Emma kept scrolling. All the pictures were of her room at the Bed and Breakfast. Apparently Henry was quite busy the five or so minutes she spent in the bathroom that night. The next was her neatly-made bed. Then, the dresser (which the punk had rifled through) as the shot was taken birds-eye-view to get in all three drawers. Creep. Next, it was her clothes hung up in the closet. Then, the empty arm chair in the corner of the room. Finally, Henry had taken a picture from the door to encompass the entire room.
"Okay?" She repeated.
"Actually…it isn't. And, I mean, I am not too upset about it as I was taught to put my things away properly…but, since when do you maintain a tidy living environment?"
He's right. Since when? I don't keep my room clean often, only if I expect company. Oh man, he is so right. That's Emma Swan right there. Miss "Untidy" Swan…
"Explain."
"I just did; but, to elaborate: you typically kick your shoes off and leave them near the door you just walked through; not lining them up like in some military fashion against the foot of your bed. Speaking of bed…I have never once seen your bed made; Gram always did that for you, even since before the curse broke…yeah, she told me. And don't go saying it was the maid service here…we both know you don't get it since you've been staying at the BnB for so long. As for your dresser…everything is neatly…and pristinely folded…like so crisp it's insane. Like, even Mom is not that anal about folding laundry. Same for your clothes in the closest. Too crisp and clean, like they just came out of a dry-cleaners. And no clothes splayed over the armchair like back at the loft. And not a single thing out of place if you were to come in through the door."
Silence…and grinning. Henry decided to continue seeing as the Emma appeared defeated.
"I say military-like because in comparison to how I lived with you before Pan and even in New York, this really is some contrast. Where'd you learn to be all ornate? You learn this in knight school?" He laughed a bit but pressed on:
"This brings us to my list, so you don't forget:
Number One: Your eyes. Your eyes are now like every other fairy tale characters' eyes. That right there is a dead giveaway.
Number Two: My storybook mysteriously shows up in my house. Yet, Hook seems to be missing and he last had it in his possession.
Number Three: Said book now contains crucial evidence of a White Knight existing which Mom just confirms it.
Number Four: Your tick.
Number Five: Your denials.
Number Six: You taking orders from Mom, to put it plainly.
Number Seven: You messing up and seeming all knightly with your talk of realms, knowing to get to know a horse first, and addressing Mom more as Queen than Mayor.
Number Eight: Your denials.
Number Nine: Your neatness and orderliness. Seriously, who are you and what have you done with Emma Swan? And lastly,
Number Ten: Your denials. No one so adamantly denies something unless it is true."
Emma was at a loss of words…again. Her son made sense. She had to give him that. And of course! Henry, and Henry only, would be the one to figure this out. She was proud of him…but only just so.
What now?
He was right. She was in complete and utter denial. It was mind-boggling and tiring her the fuck out. She was always second-guessing herself on what she was doing or how she was thinking. It needed to stop. But how could it?
She thought of his number one piece of evidence: her eyes. And she knew. She, Emma Swan, knew that was exactly where her thoughts were. She could not keep this up…for her sanity's sake. It was time for admittance. It was time for the story to truly begin.
"Alright kid, ya got me."
End Part I