The Queen resisted the highly improper urge to huff out a loud sigh of agitation. Frustration, impatience, indignation. Every conceivable emotion she felt, but the one she longed to experience the most. Content.
"Again?"
James sounded incredulous, almost dumbfounded as his palms hit the surface of the round table. The connection sounded with a resounding thud, rattling the sword on the surface between his hands and halting the onslaught of mumbled agreements and spurts of excuses that were undoubtedly about to flood the council chamber. Poured into that one word was all the worry and desperation that Snow herself had felt for what had quickly began to feel like an eternity. It reassured her in a way, however; it stopped that anxiously bouncing knee of hers and reminded her that although she'd been feeling alone a lot as of late, she never truly would be.
"How, pray tell, do the combined efforts of nine of the realm's – of all the realms 'finest' huntsmen and trackers fail yet again to hunt and track a single person, hm?" he questioned, his voice laced with a snide, almost smarmy hint; Snow worriedly found that it didn't sound right on his tongue. At all.
James had risen to his feet as he spoke, the calming and concerned hand of his wife on his forearm doing nothing to halt his slow stalk around the large table, where the failed nine in question sat agitatedly.
"But Your Majesty, we did find her," one of the men spoke up, his words nervously tumbling from his lips as he clutched his helmet tightly in his white-knuckled grasp. "Granted, it took longer than expected," he mumbled on while others added their part.
"We even acted how you suggested, she seemed to buy it!"
"She possesses a strength of which we were not warned. We weren't prepared for it! Perhaps you underes-"
Snow sighed into her hands.
"How dare you!" her husband boomed, halting his advance. "How you even dare to assume such a thing of your King and the Princess's father is beyond me."
Snow watched his fingers run through his recently shortened hair then; even the power in James' voice was beginning to thin.
Though she could feel eyes on herself, Snow kept her concerned gaze trained on her Charming, willing him to calm himself and to think rationally. Despair in situations such as theirs often led to brash decisions.
"James," Snow drew out the name in an almost exasperated groan. Again, she was paid no regard.
"Obviously, the only thing I have been mistaken in is my overestimation of you huntsmen and your competency. A mistake I will not be making again. Leave my sight."
As if on cue, the doors to the council chamber opened just as the men noisily began to gather themselves. Snow stood as they did, pulling firmly on her husband's arm. His gentle sigh of compliance elicited a sad, warm smile from Snow, her hand rubbing soothing tracks into his bicep.
"Darling," she began, keeping her voice between the two of them. "You need to stop bearing so much of the burden on your own shoulders."
When he didn't interrupt, she carried on. "Our daughter is our daughter," she provided, as though that statement of fact alone could explain away the situation. She was reassuring herself just as much as she was James. "She was born of two of the most stubborn, hard-headed people I know," her smile grew as it was reflected in James's face.
"I know, I know," his head bowed in acknowledgement.
The rest didn't need to be said. They missed her, they longed even just to see her for a moment. She continued to run and avoid them, to avoid everything. They continued to worry, despite the fact that apparently she could handle herself rather well out there alone. Better than they dared to wonder.
The tense silence of the room signalled that the men were ready to leave. Sure enough as Snow peered around James, all nine men stood in line. At least they knew respect. As they filed out of the chamber, ushered by castle guards, they bowed to Snow. She smiled despite herself, sidestepping James and acknowledging them individually as they all left. Bar one. Snow recalled that out of all the men, this one had remained silent throughout the entire meeting. Judging by the way he was regarding her, she felt as though she recognized his as the gaze she'd felt earlier.
"You'll be paid for your efforts," Snow assured him, guessing that payment was his motive for hanging behind. The scrape of wood against stone from behind told her that James had retaken his seat. Luckily.
The hunter gave a quick gracious nod which soon turned into a shake.
"I beg your pardon, my Grace, but that's not why I fell back."
"Go on," Snow encouraged, looking up at the huntsman with an inquisitive frown.
He raised his voice to include the King. "By your leave, Your Majesties, I'd like to try again. A solo mission, if you will. I think I can reach out to the Princess."
Snow felt a rush of hope and suspicion at once, as, apparently did James.
He scoffed. "And what makes you think that?" he asked, turning in his seat. Flippant, as though he was inquiring into the weather conditions for riding.
The huntsman cleared his throat before continuing, Snow's questioning gaze never leaving his face.
"I told her that she should return, and though I didn't directly mention the two of you as you instructed, I did definitely detect the conflict in her eyes."
At that, Snow couldn't contain the bubble of laughter that escaped her lips. She knew her daughter better than she suspected Emma wanted to be known by anyone, even her own mother. Perhaps the Queen simply didn't want to get her own hopes up, but she knew very well that she and James were not the only cause for the conflicted emotions of one Emma Swan. They weren't the only royals, either.
Though Snow doubted she could ever fully understand without Emma's explanation (she doubted she'd fully understand even with an explanation), she did understand that it was never a simple matter with her daughter. The Princess, the White Knight, the Rider.
Snow looked over her shoulder to find James closer than she'd expected, his hand falling to rest intimately at the small of her back.
"What do you think?" She asked, looking up at her husband. They shared the smile of co-conspirators.
"I think," he turned his gaze to the huntsman, "that I'll wish you the best of luck, though I suspect you'll need something more."
From her angle, she could only see one side of his mouth lift into a surprisingly wild smile. Even from that angle, she could tell what was behind that smile. It wasn't the seemingly genuine humour that everyone else would see, it was a mask, and behind that lay a hope and worry so strong that Snow could almost feel it radiating in spades from the hand at her back.
"We can only wish you luck," Snow agreed, leaning into James and trying to keep her features solemn. "And thanks," she quickly added.
The huntsman bowed respectfully to both of them as he backed away. "Thank you, your highnesses. I shan't fail."
Snow nodded at the determination in the man's voice; she'd heard that same unyielding tone in both her daughter and her husband, and by that recognition, she couldn't help but put a portion of her faith into the brown-haired man.
Just as he reached the still open exit of the chamber, the King spoke up, surprising her with his words.
"Make sure you don't," he began and the man paused in his retreat. "If you return with Emma by the eve of this month's Harvest Moon festival, there'll be a place for you here in our court by way of gratitude, should you wish to accept it."
The thought of having Emma home in time for their autumn celebration had Snow's hope and excitement overriding the initial shock of her husband's offer. It would be like a 'welcome home' celebration!
The Queen turned her gaze to the hunter, whose eyes had widened considerably if only for a second. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he shocked at the King's offer? Everyone knew that places on the royal council weren't offered willy nilly; the invitee was regarded as someone whose skills could aid the kingdom, be they political, magical, horticultural, or in this case, unique. If the rumours held truth. Did he doubt his own skill? The King hadn't given him as much time as he had for the previous quest. Did he think the King had merely offered him the prestigious place as a reward because he thought the hunter would fail again? Did he think he'd be knighted?
Snow thought all this as she took steps towards the hunter, stopping short of him.
"This year the festival falls on the eleventh day of the tenth month," she reminded him should he not know, which she guessed he didn't as she watched him nod earnestly. "That gives you sixteen days. Are you quite sure you want to do this?" she asked, managing to keep the pleading tone from her voice that wanted to beg him to just hurry up and run to find her daughter.
He barely skipped a beat, absently pulling at the leather-fur pauldrons atop his shoulders.
"I'm quite certain, your Majesty. Now if you'll pardon me-"
"Yes!" James spoke up, once again coming to stand beside his wife. "Away with you. Sixteen days," he shooed, squeezing an arm around Snow's shoulders.
"Yes, your Majesty," he agreed, turning to leave just as Snow's hand grasped his forearm. James sighed impatiently at her side.
"What's your name, hunter?" she asked after having realized that she hadn't known this whole time.
"Wolfe, your Majesty. Graham Wolfe."
With that, he smiled, nodded, turned and exited the council chamber, leaving behind a suddenly very shocked and ever-increasingly hopeful King and Queen.