With trembling hands, Emily smoothed the ivory satin of her skirt. (It was still perfectly pressed, the action more to prevent her from biting her nails than any actual need to smooth out any creases.)
She'd been anxiously awaiting the day's arrival for weeks now, but the sun streaming in the castle windows signalling its arrival had brought with it a squalling of nerves in her stomach. Not second thoughts, mind you, but something she couldn't quite name all the same.
A soft knocking on the door to her chambers gave her a start and she whirled around with a rustling of her skirts. The door creaked open and her father peered inside wearing possibly the widest smile she'd ever seen. She gave a small laugh. "Oh, Daddy, it's only you. I thought it might be Derek..."
Her father laughed, shook his head fondly. "Oh, Bella," he murmured, crossing the room to take his daughter's face in his hands so he could kiss her forehead. "You look so beautiful..." His smile was proud, albeit sad. "How do you feel?"
Adjusting the ornate brocade jacket he wore so she wouldn't have to meet his gaze, she admitted, "I'm...nervous. Well, not nervous. Maybe a little anxious? I guess that's more or less the same thing..." She paused, rethought. "Not anxious," she amended. "But eager."
He sighed, gently stopped her fidgeting with hands around her wrists. He lead her to the edge of her window seat, tugging her to sit down next to him. "Bella, I know I've asked you this already, but are you absolutely certain this is what you want?"
She heaved a sigh. "Daddy..."
"You need to be certain," he reiterated. "Because once you're married, it's 'til death. So, I'll ask you again: do you want to marry Derek?"
"Of course, I do, Daddy!" she insisted, the normally tender expression reserved for her father turning quickly into something hostile. "I love him and he loves me! Why would you even ask such a thing?"
He ducked his head from the face of her anger. "I just... I only want what's best for you."
"Derek is what's best for me," she vowed. "And if you care for me at all, you won't ask again." A moment of uneasy silence followed, guilt welling in Emily's chest as she watched her father shrink in on himself. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she whispered, trying to catch his eye. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I know you're only looking out for me."
"I know," he agreed, offering her a faint smile. "I'm sorry for doubting you. You're smarter and stronger and more capable than I ever could have imagined. I know that you'd never let anyone – man or beast – get the best of you."
She laughed softly. "Cheer up, Daddy," she begged, "It's my big day. You're supposed to be happy for me."
"I am," he insisted. "But that doesn't mean I'm not sad as well... After today, you'll belong to someone else."
"I belong to myself and no one else."
It was his turn to laugh. "You've always been strong-willed. I hope Derek knows what he's getting into..." he teased. He cleared his throat. "Now, let me help you with this veil..."
Emily's father sat helplessly as his daughter sobbed into his shoulder, her entire body heaving with each hitching breath. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, rubbing a hand up and down her back as she cried, murmuring soothing words that felt wholly underwhelming.
Finally, she sat back, brushing her tears off her cheeks, swallowing down her sobs so she could fix him with a determined stare. "You have to help me, Daddy," she begged. "Please..."
He reached over to cup her cheek, wiping away an errant tear with his thumb. "Bella, you know I'd do anything for you, but I don't know that I can be of any use to you in this matter..." He attempted an apologetic smile, but knew it was laughably hollow. "I don't have any magic, I can't stop this curse..."
"Gideon said she'll break it," she whispered, glancing down at her belly, smoothing the fabric of her gown along the swell of it. "In eighteen years, she'll come back to us..."
"Bella, I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I can't imagine spending eighteen years without you."
She sniffled, nodded. "I don't have a choice. What is eighteen years when we have a lifetime?" It was clear that she wanted to believe those words but wasn't sure she did.
He nodded solemnly. "How can I help you?"
She swallowed thickly, tongue flicking out over her lip. "I need you to invent something – something that will guide her back to us. Something that will bring her home when the time is right."
The gears in his mind visibly started turning and for a moment, he was deep in thought. Then, without warning, he reached over and removed the necklace from around her throat, carrying it over to his workshop table.
She watched anxiously as he pulled a pair of magnifying goggles on and picked up a set of tiny tools – comically undersized in his hands – and began tinkering with the locket. "What are you...?" she started to ask.
She didn't get the chance to finish, though, because a melodic tinkling sound filled the workshop.
She clapped a hand to her mouth, tears filling her eyes once again as the music rang out. "Is that...?"
He looked up at her, still wearing the goggles, making his eyes appear laughably oversized. "Your wedding song," he whispered. "Your daughter will grow up always carrying a part of your love, the love that created her, and one day – when she finds you again – the music will bring the three of you together."
Emily gave him a watery smile, hand over her heart, saying nothing. Nothing needed to be said.
"I'm sorry," her father spoke again after a long moment.
Her brows knit together in confusion. "For what, Daddy?"
"For your mother," he rasped, guilt clawing its way up his throat. "I knew when I married her that there was something rotten in her soul. I should have known...should have stopped her."
"Oh, Daddy..." she whispered.
"I wouldn't change it, though," he amended, "Marrying her, I mean. Because without her, I wouldn't have you. You're the one good thing I've done with my life and I'd do it again, for you."