Chapter 2

Notes: I tried to include some fluff here! Or at least hurt/comfort... that's kind of like fluff right? Not as much "action" happens in this chapter, but I'm going to post it anyway. Read on to find out what happens to Emma! Also, we meet someone new (whose name starts with K!) hehe.

Again if you think you might be triggered by anything:

Content Warning: Gaslighting/emotional manipulation. There'll probably be more of this in later chapters. Some of the interactions with King George are/will be inspired by Mother Gothel from Tangled if that gives you a little more insight.

—OUAT—OUAT—OUAT—

—previously— "Before [Emma] knew what was happening, a guard had picked her up, as directed by King George, and started carrying her out of the castle. A carriage was prepared and soon Emma was riding away from the only home she'd ever known.

In the mirror realm, Snow screamed and threw a rock at the mirror she was viewing. The mirror remained undamaged. With a sob, she leaned back against the glass coffin that held her love. Unable to hold the tears back any longer, Snow White cried for her husband and daughter."

—OUAT—OUAT—OUAT—

By the time George and his guards had begun riding away from the castle of Snow White and Princes Charming, sunrise had begun scattering sunbeams through the gray clouds. Emma fell asleep, worn out from the events of the night. The company rode all day, stopping only for a brief lunch. Night had fallen again by the time they arrived at their destination, and Emma was led through the castle entrance and escorted into what was meant to be her new room.

That first night in King George's castle, Emma lay in the dark, crying. Her surroundings were even more opulent than the nursery she'd grown up in. Colorful paintings of far-off places covered the walls, coals in the massive fireplace kept the room at a comfortable temperature, and the luxurious king-sized bed boasted a goose down mattress and goose down pillows.

Of course, Emma neither noticed nor cared. She'd lost her parents, her home, and access to anyone she'd known growing up. But King George had to be lying, didn't he? She knew her parents loved her. They told her all the time. They'd come for her soon. After all, that was her father's promise at the end of every bedtime story: no matter any danger or distance, their family would always find each other.

Daddy was probably already on his way. That would show King George.

With these thoughts, Emma's sobs turned to sniffles, and she managed to drift off to sleep.

What seemed like the next moment, Emma awoke to the sound of curtains being drawn back, the light from a breaking dawn warming her face, and the smell of scrambled eggs (her favorite) coming from a tray placed at the foot of the bed. Emma looked around in astonishment at the unfamiliar surroundings for a few seconds. Then she startled, remembering all that had happened yesterday and the night before that.

She glared at the unfamiliar person who had drawn back the curtains and had now turned to look at her. The stranger was a young woman, about eighteen years old, though of course this seemed very old to Emma at the time. She wore a white apron over a plain navy gown, and a funny white cap on her head. Emma learned later that this outfit was a common uniform for maids in the castle. Her parents' court, by contrast, had brought together a rather eclectic group of individuals, with varying tastes in fashion. The leniency of court dress had been passed down to the servants. Generally, the servants in Snow and Charming's castle had dressed as they pleased.

Emma sat up in the bed. She drew herself up with all the dignity a two-almost-three-year-old princess could muster.

"Who are you? Mommy and Daddy will be coming soon. They're probably here already."

The woman raised her eyes in surprise, but looked down at her with a good-natured smile, tucking back some dark hair that had been dislodged from the cap, "Are they, Princess Emma? Well, I'm sure they'll wantta know ya've eaten a good breakfast when they come, doun' you? I didn't know what ya liked, so I asked Cook to make a bit of everything. Why don't you eat up? I'll get ya' dressed and ready to greet your grandfather. You're supposed to meet with 'im before he begins court."

Emma narrowed her eyes at the maid, "You're not going to stop me from seeing Mommy?"

The maid shrugged, "I dunno who your mommy and daddy are, but I'm sure a maid like me wouldn't be able to stop royals from seeing ya."

Emma cocked her head to one side, "My parents are Snow White and Prince Charming! I thought everyone knew that."

The maid tugged on her cap a bit nervously, "I don't know much 'bout other kingdoms, wee miss. Nor much 'bout being a maid for that matter. My dad chops wood for the kitchen fires, he does, and last night the staff was told about a foreign princess. We heard ya was King George's granddaughter and you was coming to the castle and needed a lady's maid. I was the easiest option, so here I am."

Emma looked at her with all the self-assuredness a royal toddler could portray, her expression a cool mask that made her look like a much older child.

The maid tugged on her cap again and stared back.

Emma grinned, "I like you."

Emma grabbed the tray and began eating the eggs, wrinkling her nose at the oatmeal.

"I'm two years old. Almost three! I like eggs; do you like eggs? I hope you like oatmeal, 'cause there's no way I'm eating that. I think my parents would like you. Oh and you know my name, but I don't know yours. What's your name?"

The maid blinked at the onslaught of conversation, then answered the last question, "M' name's Lizzy, Princess Emma."

Emma nodded regally as she'd seen her mother do, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the way her cheeks bulged with eggs.

"S'just Emma. Nice to meet you, Lizzie," Emma said, or at least tried to with her mouth full.

Lizzie chuckled at the child, "Nice to meet ya too, Emma."

—OUAT—OUAT—OUAT—

Lizzie got Emma fed and dressed in an elegant blue gown that had been placed in the closet the day before. Emma wore dresses on special occasions, but generally she preferred breeches. However, when she tried to explain this fact to Lizzie, along with the fact that she really didn't want to go see her "grandfather," Lizzie's eyes grew frightened.

"But ya must, Princess Emma. The king himself said!"

Emma sighed but didn't complain anymore. After all, it wasn't like she'd be staying here long. Her parents would come for her soon.

Lizzie hurried her along down one stone corridor, past a room full of suits of armor, past another corridor that smelled as if it led to the kitchens, and into a broad hallway with arched wooden beams in the ceiling and a fluffy red carpet underfoot.

The king stood with his attendants at the end of the hall, tapping his foot. Evidently, he'd been waiting for Emma. His broad forehead wrinkled into a frown when he saw her. Lizzie disappeared as soon as possible, after a deep curtsey.

"A princess should be prompt if nothing else. You'll be here more quickly next time. Clear?"

Emma remembered a saying of her mother's: when you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

So, she said nothing.

George's frown deepened, "I expect an answer when I speak to you, child. When I give you a command, you will say 'yes, Grandfather.''

Emma had had enough. She stomped her little foot and put her hands on her hips.

"I won't!" whipping her newly braided hair over her shoulder in her conviction. "I won't. You're not my grandfather. Mommy and Daddy are coming for me and you'll be sorry!"

George shook his head at her, dispassionately, "I see we'll need to teach you manners. Not that I should've expected better from your shepherd father."

Emma opened her mouth to respond but George raised his palm in her direction and spoke before she could, "And I thought I'd made it clear, princess. Your parents don't love you anymore. They left you with me."

Emma remained in her angry posture, undaunted, "You're lying. My parents love me. Daddy promised he would always find me."

George raised his eyebrows at her, "Is that so. Well, then, you've been here for almost fifteen hours. Plenty of time for your parents to arrive here on horseback. If you're so sure they're coming for you, why aren't they here yet?"

Emma's expression faltered, but she glared up at George, "I don't know. But they're coming. It's just taking a little longer."

George shook his head with faux sadness, "But what are they waiting for?"

Then, Emma's eyes widened, as an idea hit her, "It's probably 'cause it's my birthday next week! They want to surprise me. Besides, we always have a party on my birthday. They'll be here, you'll see."

Without so much as a by-your-leave, Emma turned and ran off toward her room to wait. New hope rushed through her. They'd come. Just let George wait and see.

—OUAT—OUAT—OUAT—

Six days later, Emma's birthday came. She woke up to bright skies and a world filled with hope. Mommy and Daddy were sure to come today. Without even waiting for Lizzy to wake her, she ran down to the kitchens. She'd already endeared herself to the kitchen staff, and she induced Cook to give her some sweet treats in a little knapsack. Then she sat herself down on a small barrel near the entrance of the castle, and waited for her parents to arrive.

She pictured her mother riding in with full entourage as she did when she arrived home after visiting other countries. Then Daddy would stride in, sword at his hip and a smile on his face. He'd pick her up and twirl her around. She'd ask what took so long, and they'd say— they'd say—

Well, they'd explain.

The baked treats in her knapsack smelled delicious, but Emma was determined to save them for the journey. She always helped her mother pack a snack in her knapsack, for what her mother had called "diplomatic playdates." Mommy had promised to bring Emma with her next time.

Hours passed. Emma began balancing on the barrel and jumping off as far as she could to pass the time.

Maybe she'd just eat one pastry…

The sun began to set, and Emma still sat on the barrel, holding an empty knapsack, ignoring the crumbs scattered around her feet.

Emma's green eyes filled with tears. The sun finally sank below the horizon, and twilight began.

Lizzie came out to bring her inside.

"Why haven't they come, Lizzie?" Emma asked, her bottom lip trembling.

Lizzie looked down at her. Honestly, Lizzie's best guess was that Emma's parents had been killed in the battle, not that she could ever dare to ask anyone with a high enough status to know such things. Or maybe King George was telling the truth, and Emma's parents really had abandoned her. But really, there was only one answer she could give the young princess.

"I don't know, Emma. I'm sorry."

Emma began to cry, "King George is lying, though, right? They're coming for me, right? He's wrong and they love me too much to leave me, right?"

Lizzie sighed and knelt down to the ground, opening up her arms. Emma ran right into them. Lizzie thought about the stories Emma had told her. She felt sure Emma's parents loved her, which made their death the more likely option. Of course, she couldn't right out contradict the king for fear of being charged with treason, but she had to say something.

"Sweetheart… sometimes, even when people love us very much, they have tah' go away, at least for a while. If your parents did leave ya in the king's care, they at least knew you'd be provided for. King George might not be as… affectionate… as them, but you'll always have food and a bed. And, knowing ya, you'll always be loved. You've got Cook wrapped ar'und your finger already!"

Emma sniffled, and stopped crying so hard. But Lizzie didn't get the smile she was hoping for, not that she really expected it.

"Come on with ya, let's go into the castle. We'll get you a warm dinner and an extra hot fire tonight."

Emma looked down at the ground, but took her hand, and they left the barrel behind.

Emma glanced up on their way into the castle, gasped, and pointed, "A falling star!"

Lizzie stroked her hair, looking up as well, "Always knew ya were a lucky one, really. Quick, ya must make a wish!"

Emma squeezed her eyes tight, "I wish for Mommy and Daddy. I wish to not be alone anymore."

Lizzie bent down and picked Emma up, first hugging her, then looking her in the eye, her accent coming out more strongly in her passion, "Ya ain't alone Emma, doun' ya worry 'bout dat. I'll stay righ' here, I promise."

Lizzie put her down and continued, "I've got my ma, my pa, my two wee brothers, but I still have plen'y o' love to give. Whenever you're feelin' lonely, you come straight tah me. I'll be here, Emma."

When Emma went to bed that night, she still cried. But there was an element of catharsis in her sobs. Maybe her parents weren't here right now, but she wasn't alone. And when Lizzie came to check on her and Emma asked her to, Lizzie lit a candle, just like Daddy used to do.

—OUAT—OUAT—OUAT—

Far away, on the coastal edge of King George's kingdom, in a tiny fishing village named Baneskalt, a little, four-year-old boy saw the same falling star and made much the same wish. Mama had died from the sickness that had swept through the village last winter. Father was always gone, either fishing or at the pub. He wished aloud for his mother to come back. He wished aloud to not be so alone.

Killian jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, before turning and realizing it was his brother, Liam.

"Don't worry, little brother," Liam said, "We've got each other, so we'll never be alone. Come inside, I got the baker to give us all the extra scones for one farthing, and they're only slightly stale! We'll heat them up and put butter on them. Even we can cook that much!"

Killian nodded, though displaying less enthusiasm than Liam at the idea of stale scones. Killian followed Liam into their little cottage.

"Anyway," Liam went on, "You know Father's just working hard to save up for the big trip. He's taking us out to sea, Killian, just like we've always wanted! And we'll be sure to see far more of him then."

Killian nodded again. Liam was right, as he always was.

Later, as his brother grinned at him with a mouth full of scone, Killian grinned back. Killian felt the knowledge settle deep within him, the way the scones settled deep in his stomach: he was not, nor would he ever be, alone.

—OUAT—OUAT—OUAT—

Years passed. Emma continued to hope that her parents would come. If they couldn't, surely they'd at least send Red… or Uncle Grumpy! More and more of the time, however, she distracted herself with the business of here and now.

King George had a great many ideas on how princesses should behave. Emma's behavior, generally, did not line up well with these ideas. So, she was required to sit with many different tutors throughout the week, learning what they called, "royal etiquette." Emma would kick up a fuss and was never a very good student, but she went. In the back of her mind, she thought her mother had always acted particularly "queenly," at least when in public. So, the entire thing couldn't all be cow poop. Nevertheless, Emma would often lose patience, running away to the stables or the town, desperate just to breathe fresh air or talk with someone who didn't critique her posture.

The worst days were the rainy ones, when she was forced to stay indoors. Lizzy sometimes made these days better by keeping her company, if she could.

One such day occurred not long after Emma's sixth birthday.

"Lizzie," Emma asked, "where does your accent come from?"

She'd learned something new that day. A tutor told her that each foreign court came with its own accent. Her parents' eclectic group of courtiers included an eclectic grouping of accents, and Emma had always thought you were born with an accent, the way some are born with brown eyes and brown hair, and others with green eyes and yellow hair.

Lizzie blushed, "Well, my pa was born not far from 'ere, and he speaks a lot like the guards do. But my ma, she came from DunBroch. So my brothers and me, we ended up wi' a mix of both."

"I wish I had an accent," Emma said.

"Oh ya do, lass, it just don't sound like one to your ears," Lizzie chuckled.

"I wish to sound like ya, and have your accent," Emma said in her best imitation of Lizzie's voice, and Lizzie dissolved into giggles. The conversation slowed and the room fell silent for a time, until Emma continued, in an uncharacteristically timid voice, "Lizzie, I know you don't like to talk about it, but I miss my parents."

Lizzie's eyes softened immediately, "I know, lass."

Emma sniffed and cleared her throat, "It's just… King George keeps saying they don't love me, but I know they do. And every time I think about them it makes me sad. But when I talk about them, and remember them, it helps, you know?"

Lizzie nodded again, "It's not I who don' like to talk 'bout your parents, Emma. The king doesn't like it. But when we're alone, you talk all you need to, alright?"

Emma nodded, smiling softly, looking older than her years, "Thanks Lizzie."

Lizzie embraced her, "Ah, wee lass. Don't you worry. I know your parents, wherever they may be, love you very much. There's no way they couldn't."