(Sorry about the lack of Emma/Regina this chapter... Will get back to them next, I promise! Thanks all so much for the reviews and follows, it's really encouraging)

Chapter 3

In the passing rare moments when an opportunity came to have a private thought, surprisingly often Snow found herself missing the quiet, unobserved life of Mary Margaret Blanchard. She'd spent 28 years as the woman, just about as long as she'd been Snow White, and… well, it really hadn't been that bad a life, if she set aside thoughts of the pain she hadn't known she felt over the husband and child who'd been ripped from her.

Yes, Mary had been meek, a consummate wallflower – but hadn't she been a good teacher, a good friend? Sometimes, when no one was looking, Snow would close her eyes and conjure up that little cozy apartment, where no drafts had ever found entry through crumbling stone walls, and no blustering old men ever invited themselves in to bellow at her their demands for justice, for their blood red retribution. She'd remember, fondly, sitting on the sofa with Emma – still just a friend and roommate, then – and how easily they'd laughed together about the happenings of that sleepy town, and commiserated over their woes.

This, unfortunately, was not one of those passing rare moments. She stared stonily at the men gathered around the council table, hearing the words of their anger without really listening to them. Men, all men, her father's men. She'd never even had the chance to become her own kind of ruler she'd always been pulled away before she could do the things she'd wanted to do, before she could make the kingdom her own – pulled away by queens, by curses. It never really seemed to end. And now, this. The red-faced man speaking at her now had been her dentist in Storybrooke… Now she was obliged to accept his counsel?

"—Certainly I understand that this is difficult for Your Majesty, given the apparent involvement of your child in the Evil Queen's escape… but now is not the time to let personal attachments weaken your rule of this land. You must act decisively to recapture Regina and put her to her end! The Evil Queen must die!"

Snow slapped a hand hard against the table, the sound resonating through the room. The sudden furious gesture from the woman who had listened so stoically 'til now startled the man into silence.

"Enough. I have heard all I care to of your thoughts on this topic. I will hear no more tonight." The words were barely out before the voices of protest poured forth, one atop another. She paid them no heed, simply pushed her chair back, stood, and walked slowly and with regal dignity from the room.

As soon as the door closed behind her, though, that strength of bearing left her and she slumped against the cold stone wall, waiting for the one person who could ease her struggle. She had to wait but a moment before her Charming exited that same door, and made things seem better with nothing more than the strength of his hand as it wrapped around hers, and the absolute truest of loves that shone forever in his eyes.

Gently, he pulled her away from the wall, and into the comfort of an embrace. "Snow…" he whispered against her hair, "… it will be alright."

She pulled back a little to look into his eyes, and smiled as though she believed him. Briefly, she remembered similar moments they'd shared when she was Mary Margaret, and he was David, and he'd promise her that somehow they'd turn wrong actions to right ones, and she'd agreed because to disagree would've broken her heart. Right now, she had to think there was a way to fix this all.

Feeling a little settled just by his nearness, and the blessed quiet surrounding them now, she pulled away from him, and held out her hand, to lead him towards their chambers. "I can't believe Emma did this." Snow said as they walked. "I mean – the mother part of me can't believe it; I think the Mary Margaret part is not really so surprised."

James squeezed her hand. "We knew that she was having a hard time…" He ventured, carefully.

It was true. Snow had sensed Emma's unhappiness, how much she'd been struggling with the transition to life in a world of fairy tales. Emma, however, had not been the only one who was struggling – the whole of the kingdom was staggering under the weight of what had happened to them. Those who had been taken were trying to find a way to resolve the past with the present, to find a way to arrange all the pieces of their fractured life into some semblance of order. Those who had been left behind saw the world order that they'd adjusted to cracked apart – the return of Snow's kingdom and the resumption of her reign displacing the forces that had filled the vacuum its disappearance had left behind. The power mongers of yesterday's world were left jostling for space and influence in today's. Not everyone was pleased to have the beloved queen back upon the throne.

So yes, Snow had guessed that Emma might be floundering – but being the queen that her people needed during this tumultuous time took everything that Snow had, and, hoping she was misreading Emma's state, she'd pushed concerns about her daughter so far to the side that Emma probably had felt she'd fallen off the pile altogether. To give credit where it is due, Emma had really been marvelous at stepping up to all that was asked of her as Snow's daughter and heir – tolerating feasts and banquets and balls in 'celebration' of their return; attending endless council sessions about the state of affairs both within the heart of the kingdom, and out on the borders were trouble seemed to be brewing; listening stoically as people who were now almost strangers to her cried out for the blood of the woman who had been a mother to Henry.

Thinking now of how distraught Henry had been at the prospect of Regina's death, Snow thought maybe she understood why Emma had done what she'd done. Revenge, like magic, always came with a price - Snow had certainly learned that lesson well enough. How could the death of his mother cost anything less than Henry's innocence? Emma must have just felt like she'd already lost enough.

Snow slowed to a stop as they reached their rooms, and released James's hand. "I have to go talk to Henry…"

James' lips pulled into a small smile as he nodded, encouraging. The way he looked at her made it clear that he would forever trust her judgment, forever believe that a heart as true as hers couldn't help but do right.

·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·

After a soft tap against the heavy door, Snow pushed it open to enter Henry's room. The boy, stretched out on his bed, glanced up at her, looking petrified in a way Snow had never wanted her grandson to be. Granted, she hadn't spent much time thinking about how she'd be as a grandmother – she'd thought she'd have some time to be a mother first- but some things… you just know. She loved the child, she wanted him to love her. So she let the tension ease out of her expression, and smiled at him kindly, gently. She crossed the room to fold herself into a sitting position on the edge of his bed.

"Henry…" She started slowly. "May I take it from the way that you're looking at me right now that you know something about Regina's escape?"

The boy nodded slowly, looking for all the world like one of her Storybrooke pupils, caught misbehaving, trying to think of a way to avoid getting in trouble for it. "Yea…" He finally answered, looking up at Snow for her reaction, his features etched with worry. "Me and Emma came up with a plan to save my mom. We decided that Emma could get her out and they could go and hide, until…"

Snow scooted a little closer, and put a hand on Henry's back, rubbing gently. "Until what?" She prompted.

She felt the sigh as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a very big sigh for one so young. "Well, we didn't really have that part totally worked out. Until everyone just stops wanting to kill her?" He offered up lamely. "I'm trying to think of a way that she can make things okay, and not have to die, but I haven't gotten very far." He looked away from her then, and his lips tightened. He was not sorry, he was determined.

Snow couldn't suppress a little laugh, though she was already rubbing her eyes, worn out, as the sound erupted from her. She leaned back against the pillows at the head of Henry's bed. As plans went, it appeared that Emma and Henry's had left a little to be desired.

He shot her a funny look, clearly confused by her laughter. "I…" he started out, as though maybe Snow just needed him to explain more, "I just didn't want her to die, Mary Margaret… She's my mom."

Snow's hands dropped from her eyes to settle in her lap. She turned her head to look at him questioningly. Odd that he'd used the old name. Since the curse had been broken, he'd always called her "Snow" – and always so emphatically, as though each time he used the name, it reinforced that he had been right all along, that he'd always known who she really was. But now, he called her Mary Margaret, the name of a woman who had helped him, had reached out when he needed it, as though he was trying to summon that old friend back. Maybe Henry was thinking now that queens are all well and good, but not much use as grandmothers. Well, she'd convince him otherwise. She couldn't directly help Emma right now, but she could help Henry.

Smiling gently, she waved him closer to her. With only a moment's hesitation, he slid across the space separating them and cuddled against her side. Snow pressed a kiss against his forehead, and tousled his hair, a comforting gesture.

"Do you want to know a secret, Henry? I didn't want her to die, either." He glanced up at her, stunned. She just smiled again, and nodded. It was the truth, but it was a complicated truth. More complicated then she could explain to Henry right in this moment. "There was a lot more to my relationship with Regina than was in your book, Henry." She stated simply. "What is real is very rarely as simple as a fairy tale."

He frowned a little, still gazing at her, trying to understand. "Then why were you going to let them kill her?"

It was a fair question. "Being the queen is… difficult, Henry. When so many voices are demanding the wrong thing, it's hard to hear your own voice, telling you what the right thing is."

He looked at her, solemnly. "But you're the good Queen – you always do the right thing."

Ah, Henry. Sweet, faithful boy. "I always want to, Henry. That's why I have you, and Emma, and James. To always help me remember who I am, and the kind of queen I want to be…" She reached down and took one of his hands in hers. "I'm going to find a way to make this right, Henry. That's a promise."

The small smile her promise brought to his face sang of hope. "I thought after the curse had broken, that all the happy endings would come back. But maybe we just have to work a little harder?" Henry suggested.

Snow smiled at that. "Maybe so… I'm learning that happy endings are pretty elusive – but if we can put enough happy todays together, eventually we'll get there." She brushed a hand across his hair again, glad to see him smile. "Alright, Henry. Time for bed. With both of your moms gone, looks like you're stuck with Grandma and Grandpa, here."

"Don't worry, I promised Emma that I'd be good 'til she got back!" Henry assured her with a grin. "I'll go to bed. But… do you think you could tell me a story first?"

Snow beamed at the suggestion, realizing suddenly that some of the happiest memories she had from Storybrooke were of sitting in a rocking chair in her classroom, her students gathered around her for a story. "Of course I will." A story for her grandson, lying so close to her that his cheek pressed against her shoulder. All the unhappiness of her day slipped away, forgotten.

"Once upon a time, there was a town called Storybrooke. In that town lived a school teacher named Mary Margaret. She didn't know it, but she was the luckiest woman in the whole world…"