No matter how many times they'd tried to convince her to move into the castle with them, Derek's mother insisted on living out on the little homestead she and her husband had built together all those years ago. She said it was where she remembered him the most and she just couldn't bear to leave his memory behind.

Derek couldn't resist indulging her in at least a little extravagance, though, so he'd paid to furnish her farmstead with loyal guard dogs for her flock, a sturdy workhorse to pull her plow, and two royal guards to protect her at all times. No matter how many times she insisted she didn't need any of it.

According to Fran, all she needed was for her son and daughter-in-law to visit more often. And give her a grandbaby. (Every time she said that, Derek rolled his eyes and groaned, then quickly made an excuse to leave the room.)

When Derek knocked on the cottage door, the scent of peach cobbler was already wafting through the open windows and he knew his mother had anticipated their arrival. She wasn't a seer, but she had an innate ability to sense their visits nonetheless.

The door flung open and Fran immediately wrapped Emily in a warm embrace, murmuring how happy she was to see her.

"What am I?" Derek protested, "The dog's breakfast?"

Fran just chuckled as she wrapped her only son in her arms, kissing his cheek. "To what do I owe the presence of my King?" she teased him.

"Can't a son visit his mother without needing a reason?" he asked, ducking to follow her into the cottage.

"He could," she agreed, "But he rarely does..."

Derek just groaned, turned to Emily with a raised brow. "Do you see what I have to put up with?" he protested.

"I'm sure you deserve it," she sided with Fran, lowering herself into the rocking chair that his father had carved before Derek was born.

Fran bustled about the cottage, handing each of them a plate of peach cobbler and fresh cream from the cow, chattering merrily with them.

Emily tucked into her dessert with gusto, letting out a contented little moan at the taste. "Nothing the chef prepares can quite hold a candle to your cooking, Mrs. Morgan," Emily insisted.

"Dear, how many times must I ask you to please call me Fran? Or better yet, Mama..."

"How about Grandma?" Derek interrupted, wearing an eager grin at breaking the news.

Fran whipped around to stare at him incredulously, mouth hanging open slightly. She glanced to Emily who wore a similar smile, one hand resting on her stomach. Then, she turned quickly back to her son. "Is it true?" she asked. "You're finally giving me a grandbaby?"

He nodded, then let out a little 'oomph' as Fran wrapped him in a second bone-crushing hug. Derek just laughed.

Fran knocked gently on the door to the nursery, careful not to disturb Emily from her state of deep thoughtfulness.

Four months into Emily's pregnancy, Derek was forced to travel to the neighbouring kingdom on diplomatic business.

He was normally overprotective of Emily, but since she'd told him she was with child, his tendencies had increased ten-fold. (Of course, the Queen's threat hadn't helped anything either.) Which meant that Emily could barely leave her chambers without a guard watching over her, much to her chagrin.

She'd managed to convince him to take the trip (though, just barely), on the condition that his mother stay with her while he was gone. Fran was only too eager to spend time with her daughter-in-law and had readily agreed to keep her company.

"Emily, dear?" Fran murmured, stepping further into the room. "Everything alright?"

Emily looked up suddenly, apparently only just having realized she was there. "Hmm? Oh. Yes. Everything's fine. Just thinking." One hand stroked absently over her small swell of stomach.

Fran picked her way through the nursery, crowded with gifts for the baby sent by neighbouring royals and well-wishers. "Do you wish to talk about it?" she offered. "I don't want to intrude, but I can tell something has been weighing heavily on your mind of late..."

She chewed her lip in thought for a moment, then heaved a sigh. "I'm having doubts," she admitted quietly, almost ashamed.

"I thought you were glad to be pregnant," Fran enquired, concerned.

"Oh, I am!" she readily reassured. "I want this baby more than anything." She pushed herself to stand from the rocking chair by the window then, slowly pacing the room until she came to the crib, tentatively reaching a hand to tap the glass unicorn mobile that hung above it. "It's myself that I doubt..."

"You're going to be a wonderful mother," Fran promised her. "Of that, I've no doubts."

"How can I be?" she asked, turning to fix her mother-in-law with a wide-eyed frightened stare. "How can I be a good mother when I have to send our child away? How can I be a good mother when I won't be her mother at all?"

"Oh, Emily..."

"Tell me!" she demanded, eyes filling with tears. "Please, I'm begging you to tell me how I do this because I don't have a clue! I can't just give birth to her and send her to another world and trust that someone will take care of her..."

"You'll do it because you have to," Fran answered simply.

Emily didn't appear convinced, though.

"You're a mother," Fran said simply. "And as a mother, you do whatever it takes to make sure your child is happy and healthy and safe. Even if that means you have to make a sacrifice, even if you have to sacrifice everything... Because nothing in the world matters more than that child you're bringing into this world."

"But how do I know she'll be safe?" she begged. "How do I know she'll be loved?"

"You don't," Fran admitted honestly. "You simply have to have faith."

"I don't know if I can..."

"But I do," she murmured. "I have faith. I have enough for the both of us."