Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.
To the Market
A week after the Black Knight came to collect the extra taxes, Emma finally saw her opportunity to start enacting her plan. It was a day before the Black Knight would come again to collect the regular taxes, and David was counting the money from his coin pouch. He was coming up short.
"Emma, I need you to go into town and try to sell Charlie," David informed Emma morosely. Charlie was their new horse, eight years old, with many productive years ahead of him. They'd bought him from another farmer, who was joining the Queen's army, for a low price—a steal really—and he'd served them well for the year they'd had him. Unfortunately, they did not have enough money with the raised tax to afford the second horse.
Emma had to leave early so that she would make it to the market by midday— the best time for selling—and be home in time for dinner. Kissing her father and grandmother on the cheeks goodbye, Emma set off down the dirt road toward town, keeping a firm hold on Charlie by his lead. He was a loyal horse, and wouldn't run, but Emma needed to be absolutely certain that she would be bringing home enough coin for David to pay the taxes.
Today would be a moist and windy day, Emma imagined. There were bits of light shining through the cloud cover, but for the most part the sky was weighed down with thick, grey, rain-carrying clouds. It was cold enough for Emma to decide to bring her cloak; heavy and lined with fur, it would keep her warm even after it was soaked through with water. Though it had cost a pretty penny for Ruth to make, it had been enchanted by a local soothsayer in exchange for a lock of Ruth's hair, and grew with Emma as she had aged. Emma never asked what the soothsayer had done with the hair, though Ruth had been lethargic the entire month afterwards.
Charlie made a noise of discontent, and Emma turned her attentions towards him, rubbing his neck and shoulder as they walked. He'd always been an intuitive horse; he probably knew that he was being sold. Emma hoped that she could sell him to a master that would be as kind and caring as David was, though she'd have to sell him either way.
As Emma walked, she made stories in her mind about who her mother must have been. For David to never look at another woman, for Ruth to cringe at the mention of her, for her to have left her family, her young daughter and husband.
She was a pirate, Emma thought wildly. Sailing the sea without a care, she couldn't be appeased with the life of a simple shepherd's wife. She would have stayed though, if it weren't for the evil pirate Captain Hook coming back because of old wounds, stealing her away to sea, never to return.
She was a knight in a foreign kingdom. She couldn't stay with her family because she owed it to her King and Queen, to her people, to protect the land she'd grown up on.
She was a princess, Emma always imagined. But she could never find the words to hypothesize another story about her mother along that thread.
Whenever Emma was being truthful with herself, she realized that the stories were simply a coping mechanism; she couldn't understand, didn't understand, would never understand why her mother had left. Was it because Emma wasn't good enough? Had she gone off to find another family with a better daughter, a smarter, or stronger, or more courageous one? Emma didn't know. And while her grandmother reassured her that it was no fault of Emma's, Emma couldn't help but think that she was the problem.
"Oi! Watch out!" Emma glanced up quickly, just in time to veer out of the way of a carriage going far too fast for a dirt road. Emma looked back when it was passed, but no one stopped to see if she was fine.
"Royals," Emma muttered, patting Charlie on the neck. He huffed in agreement.
Emma made good time to the market, and arrived just as the sky opened up a bit to let a few drizzles of rain through. It wasn't a great day for selling a horse, but it was the only day she had.
The market was set up along one long street, and in the town square. There were dozens of stalls protected from the rain by colorfully painted pieces of wood. The colors stood out sharply to the overall grayness of the surrounding area; green, blue, red, orange, yellow against a backdrop of dismal grey.
There were quite a few people, surprisingly enough, especially for the weather. Hundreds of people milled through the street, stopping at every booth the browse the contents, then meandering on to the next one. Emma tried to keep near the most crowded stalls.
"Horse for sale!" Emma shouted, wandering through the covered stalls. "Hard worker! Fast runner! Horse for sale! Price negotiable!" To an extent, Emma thought. They needed enough money to cover the extra taxes that had been taken from them, and if Emma was able to get enough, she would also need to purchase David a better pillow. He slept on the floor, and his pillow was wearing as thin as a piece of parchment. David would never purchase it for himself, but he wouldn't object if Emma came home with one, and enough money to cover the tax.
"Horse for sale!" Emma shouted again, slightly distracted as she smelled the most glorious smell of baking sweet bread. "Good—good for work horse," Emma shook her head, scolded herself for allowing her mouth to water, and turned her attention back to the market, shouting out about what a great horse Charlie was.
"I'll pay you just to shut up about that damn horse!" A stranger shouted out, to Emma's surprise and disappointment. There seemed to be an agreement in the crowd; Charlie was not going to be sold with Emma shouting out about how great he was.
Emma sighed, clicked to Charlie, and started to turn around to the end of the market. Maybe if she tried to sell directly to people, she would have more luck.
As she was turning, her eyes lighted on a jeweler's stall, where something shiny caught her eye—a ring. The crowd around the stall was looser, so Emma was able to draw closer with Charlie in tow to observe the piece of jewelry. It wasn't anything she would ever be able to afford, however it never hurt to look at pretty things.
The ring was a simplistically intricate one; a thin silver band inlaid with the smallest emeralds Emma had ever seen, right along the band. In the center was the most beautiful verdant emerald of them all; although it was only twice as big as the miniscule emeralds, it drew her eye instantly.
The jeweler, a voluptuous woman with beady brown eyes and tanned skin the same color as her tawny hair eyed Emma with interest.
"I see you've an eye for precious things," she spoke, her voice a contradiction; she spoke smoothly, though her voice was rough; she had an accent that sounded as familiar as the rustle of the trees yet as foreign as the crashing waves. "I will tell you what, sweet pea, you give me that ring upon your finger, and I'll give you this one glittering in my stall."
Emma stiffened at once. She glanced down at the ring on her middle left finger. The band was silver, and there was a solitary chartreuse jewel set on it. It was beautiful in its own old-fashioned way, and it was one of Emma's most prized possessions. She wiggled the ring around on her finger, already angering at the idea that she could trade such a valuable, personal item, for some shiny trinket.
"No," Emma enunciated, taking a staggered step backwards. She felt personally offended by the jeweler, though knew that she shouldn't feel that way. It wasn't as if the jeweler knew the value it had for her.
Startling at the vehemence in Emma's voice, the jeweler raised her eyebrows and her hands in a defensive position, and quickly retracted her offer. "Never mind sweet pea, forget I said anything," her accent had disappeared. A few moments later, she was already focused on selling to a different customer, using a different, more pronounced and regal accent.
Emma shook herself, and tightened her hold on Charlie. Rolling the ring around her middle finger once more, Emma turned herself around—
—and ran smack into a leather-clad chest.
Her gaze went down to his thick leather boots, then up to his black leather legs, the long coat he wore which must have weighed fifty pounds, to his dark vest. She admired the silk scarf he wore around his neck, and the black stubble that wrapped effortlessly around his sharp jaw. His cheekbones were sun-spotted, and he had the thickest black eyelashes Emma had seen on a man.
Emma finally looked up into the most gorgeous, cerulean blue eyes she's ever seen. If her father's eyes were the blue of the morning sky, this man's eyes encompassed the sky and all of the stormy oceans. And they were focused directly on her.
"Hello love. Fancy a drink?" The stranger asked, reaching out a hand to stroke Emma's blonde hair away from her shoulder. Emma saw the intimidation tactic for what it was, but took a step back apprehensively anyways. She knew who this was—of course she knew, he was proudly sporting a gleaming silver hook in place of a left hand.
"I don't drink," Emma replied, which was the truth. Her grandfather had been a drunk, and had died of it when her father was young, leaving David with awful memories that to this day he was hesitant to speak of. She would never follow in that stranger's footsteps.
Captain Hook cocked his head, a roguish smile still lighting his face. "And what if I told you I will buy your horse? Might I divulge some answers as to why that ring you wear means so much to you?"
Emma narrowed her eyes at the cocky attitude, but imagined that she could listen to his soft, lilting accent all day long. "He costs ten gold coins and seven shillings," Emma steeped up the price by three gold coins and five shillings, ready to barter for the young horse. He was a good horse, a young horse, but he was nowhere near worth ten gold coins and seven shillings. Though Emma did not think it was wise to try and hustle a man like Captain Hook, she was interested in seeing how much he would be willing to come back with.
She did not expect his answer.
"Smee," Captain Hook called to his right, not taking his eyes off of Emma. "Take this horse and pay—"
"Emma. Emma Charming," Emma answered the prompt, shell-shocked that her offer had been so quickly taken up. She felt a morsel of guilt gnaw at her gut, but didn't mention anything. The way she saw it, she needed the money more than he did—he would probably just pick pocket a couple of the townsfolk to earn it back anyways.
Captain Hook nodded, and spoke again. "Take Miss Charming's horse and pay the miss her fee."
"Yes Cap'n," a young man replied, hustling up to take the horse from Emma. He was round in the face and stomach, wearing a striped shirt with a tan overcoat and a bright, scarlet hat that almost blocked him from seeing. Emma mutely handed the horse to Smee as he counted out ten gold coins and seven shillings from a coin pouch, practically writhing with appalled anxiousness.
"Now, milady, where shall we adjourn for the second half of our bargain?" Hook asked politely, spreading his good hand outwards as if to say that they had the whole town.
We probably do, with his influence, Emma thought. "There's a bench just a minute out of town, it's a nice place to sit when it isn't raining."
"Nonsense," Hook disagreed immediately. "How about there?" He asked, motioning to the bakery Emma had been sniffing at just a handful of minutes ago.
"They have great bread," Emma admitted as they began to walk in that direction. It wasn't a lie; she'd had the bread as a birthday present on her tenth birthday, and it was absolutely magnificent. The shop's owners hadn't changed, so she doubted that the bread was any less amazing. And the smell…it made Emma's mouth water.
Ten minutes later, they were seated at one of the five small tables that were laid inside—most of the patrons left the shop as soon as Hook entered, though the owner was too terrified to kick him out. And here I am, having rolls with him, Emma thought, looking down at the sweet roll she'd just bought with some of the extra money. And I'll still have some leftover from the amount we need for taxes—even after I buy dad a pillow.
"It was my mother's," Emma intoned after a moment of expectant silence. "When I was two or three years old, I don't really remember, she left me and my father. We're shepherds, we live on a simple farm, and she left without a goodbye. The only thing of hers that she didn't bring with her was this ring. It was my grandmother's wedding ring, and her wedding ring from my father." Emma took a deep breath; as much as she loved fantasizing about who her mother was, it was hell to talk about.
Emma's hand itched to travel up to her throat, where there was a small vial strung around a thin strip of leather. Inside the vial was the other thing that she did not bring with her; a strand of her hair. For some reason, Emma couldn't even begin to fathom, she had wrapped the necklace around Emma's neck while she'd been sleeping. Emma didn't remember it personally, only remembered that she always had the necklace with her.
She couldn't even being to understand what the hair represented; the glass was colored blue, and was sealed shut so tightly that Emma couldn't even think to open it without shattering the glass of the vial, which she'd sworn she wouldn't do. And so, her mother's hair color remained a mystery.
"What of your father?" Hook prompted after Emma had been silent for too long. Emma glanced up, and saw a surprising amount of understanding in Hook's eyes.
"He won't speak of her," Emma replied. "Grandma—my grandmother told me that after she left, he went looking for her, but came back a week later. He didn't talk for a month after that, and now neither of them even mention her. Sometimes…" Emma hesitated, wondering if she should divulge her father's weakness. In the end, she decided it wasn't her secret to share. "Sometimes I wonder why she left," Emma said instead. "I wonder if it was something I had done, something I wasn't doing, if there was something I could have done to make her stay."
"It wasn't your fault," Hook spoke softly. Emma refused to look at him. "You were just a babe, how could it be your fault?"
Emma shook her head, trying to clear the dark emotions from her mind. There was no use crying over it now, now that the event was long over. She only had to look to the future. And speaking of the future…
"I have to get home," Emma intoned, forgetting about the delicious roll that she'd been yearning for earlier in the day. Emma looked up, though, to express her gratitude for Hook purchasing the horse. Perhaps he isn't as bad as all the stories make him out to be, Emma thought.
Hook winked, standing as well. "My offer of a drink is still on the table," he intoned, sticking his thumbs in his belt suggestively. Emma rolled her eyes at the offer. And perhaps I'm just imagining things.
The sky was darkening rapidly as Emma went to purchase the softest pillow she could find. As she browsed the stalls that remained open, she couldn't help but overhear a conversation drifting through the open door of the tavern.
"She plans to take Arendelle by force, if no one stops her. But who would be brave enough to try and stop the Evil Queen?" Coming from the warbling voice of a drunk man, Emma didn't put much stock into the question. However, the reply instantly piqued her interest.
"The Dark One, of course," a heavy drawling voice replied easily, as if there weren't Black Knights roaming the streets around the tavern. Emma glanced up, but couldn't see inside the doors clearly enough to make out who was speaking.
Emma looked around quickly and, making a snap decision, favored the door to the tavern over the vendor selling pre-made pillows.
Inside was dark and surprisingly warm. Behind the counter there was a large stock of different alcohols, the bartender a sleazy-looking older man who eyed the room before him with contempt. Emma tried to avoid being seen by him, not wanting to spend any of the coins to stay in the tavern so that she could listen in on the mysterious conversation.
Emma quickly located the warbling man, who sat at a large wooden table, surrounded by rough-looking men.
"The Dark One's a myth," a pale, skinny man in his late thirties spat, taking a swig of a pint glass.
"He's more myth than man, however I happen to know where to find him." This coming from the dirty man with the thick voice. His hair was curly, white and black beneath his triangular hat. He had a small patch of black hair on his chin, and a thick black mustache. His face was rounded, though it was obvious he was more muscle than fat. He wore a black vest, and a red silk shirt underneath. He was drinking from another pint glass, though at a much slower rate than the drunk man and his compatriots.
"Where is he?" Emma asked loudly, then cursed herself for speaking up as all eyes were on her.
"And who are you?" The man asked; Emma quickly realized that, whoever this group was, this man was their leader.
"Emma," Emma replied, not trusting him with her full name. "Can you find him? The Dark One?"
The man stared at her for a second. Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the other men without even speaking. When they were all gone, Emma took a seat across from the man.
"I am Blackbeard," Blackbeard said. Emma knew him as a pirate, but didn't know anything further than that. "And if anyone were able to find the Dark One, it is I. Why do you wish to know the location of the Dark One?"
Emma crossed her arms and leaned back against the booth chair, then quickly sat back up when her cloak met stickiness. Emma lowered her voice, speaking in a hushed tone. "The Evil Queen has been a tyrant to this land for far too long. I think that the Dark One will be able to stop her."
Blackbeard raised a bushy black eyebrow. "You think?" He asked, then started chuckling. He downed the rest of his drink, and leaned across the table towards Emma. "I know he will be able to defeat the Evil Queen. The question is; how far are you willing to go to seek him out?"
At this, Emma hesitated, her resolve quavering. How far was she willing to go? Was she willing to leave her father, her grandmother, all alone? They needed her on the farm; David wouldn't be able to work the farm and tend to the sheep all at once. And while Ruth might be a sturdy old woman, she was still an old woman, and wouldn't be able to help as much as was needed.
What am I doing, Emma wondered. I come here to sell a horse and buy a pillow for Dad, now I've had a sit-down chitchat with two pirates and I'm actually considering leaving my family to pursue a quest of—of what? Revenge against the Queen? Revenge for taking some more money? Emma was disgusted with herself.
"I'm sorry," Emma intoned, sliding out from the booth. "I'm not willing to go very far, I—I have to go—"
Blackbeard surveyed her for a moment with keen eyes. He nodded slowly, glancing around the bustling tavern. "If you change your mind darling, I will be docked until tomorrow at midday, and I have room for an extra passenger. Think about it; you would be a hero, bringing the Dark One back from the hole he's been hiding in for the past twenty years."
"Thank you," Emma intoned, backing away, "But don't count on me."
As she turned to leave, her eyes caught on someone else's—Captain Hook was sitting in the shadows of the tavern, barely visible, but undoubtedly staring at Emma.
Emma swallowed thickly, and left the tavern in a hurry. She was going to be late for dinner.
Author's Note: Thank you all for continuing to read my story! I didn't expect to get such a great response so quickly for the first, likely most boring, chapter in the story. But thank you; you inspired me to get out the next chapter of my other story in order to write this one!
Anyways, usually I will write a foreword A/N when I have guest reviews, but there were so many that I decided to do it down here. Thank you all for reviewing, and I hope you continue to enjoy my story!
Raquel: Thank you for your review! Snow left Emma and David for her own reasons, which we will learn of later on in the story.
Guest 1: Thank you although I haven't given a specific age, my idea for Emma is that she's just turned twenty-two. Her age isn't a big part of this, however, and only gets mentioned in passing, so feel free to imagine her as whatever age you like. Captain Swan will most certainly be present in this fic!
Guest 2: Thank you! I hope you are enjoying my story. Emma has no clue who her mother is, not even of her name. We will get more into all of that later in the fic. And it is safe to say that it is Emma's throne, though she does not know it.
Guest 3: Thank you! I was worried that this would be too boring, and I wouldn't get very many responses until I posted a couple more chapters, but I have gotten a fantastic response!
Ouatfan: Thank you for your review, I am glad you are enjoying it! Emma will certainly be running into her mother, though she might not know it is her. Emma currently has no idea who her mother is.
Emmafan: I can confirm that Snow is not dead, she chose to leave for her own reasons, which we will learn of later on. Thank you for your review, I hope that you continue to enjoy my story!
Ouatemmabig: Thank you for your review! Very keen observation, it would make sense that Snow has left Emma and David for their own protection. I have updated so quickly because of the great response! I hope you enjoyed it
Ouatfanforever: Yes, Snow White is certainly Emma's mother. Thank you for your review, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Guest 4: Thank you for reviewing, I am glad you enjoyed! I usually tend to update every week, however due to personal problems, it can sometimes take longer.
Guest 5: Thank you for your review! Acute observation; I don't think that Snow would be too happy with Emma if she were indeed in hiding to protect her daughter.
Guest 6: Thank you for your review, James never died is my idea, so David never became a prince. They still met and fell in love, Snow is definitely Emma's mom. I hope you continue to enjoy!
