~Day 1~

17 years, 11 months, and 28 days later…

Emma woke with a start. It was freezing.

She wrapped herself up in her blankets, allowing the early morning brain fog to fade away.

Her mind gravitated to her upcoming birthday, along with the ridiculous ball her parents insisted upon. With a ridiculous amount of available men attending. It was only her 18th birthday. Not a big deal at all.

She secretly hoped she was getting sick. Then she would have an excuse to miss her party. But this didn't quite feel like something she was coming down with. It felt unnatural, especially in the middle of summer.

She tried to relax, hoping to go back to sleep. However, an overwhelming sense of dread overcame her thoughts. She sat up, yelping when a shiver attacked her back from the lack of warmth.

She walked over to the window, every step felt like walking barefoot in the snow. It was just a little cold. She wouldn't back down. She saw that the sun had risen. There were still a few faded streaks of pinks on the horizon, but the morning had definitely begun. She was already awake, despite her best efforts, and she would be damned if this cold she felt would slow her down.

She went back to the side of her bed, picking up her necklace as she did every morning. But before she could even bring it to clasp around her neck, the pendant broke. It had been a simple thing. A carving of a swan from her childhood friend, Pinnochio, to commemorate her namesake on her seventeenth birthday.

She stared at the two halves, determined to understand how and why such a thing could have happened. But the edges of the break were smooth, as if sliced by a knife. They had been completely fine only moments ago. She couldn't explain it. The sense of dread deepened, and she wondered what else was going to happen this day. She was not eager to find out.

Attempting not to stress fate, she shook her head and left the broken swan where she'd found it. Instead, she glided over to her vanity and sat down, ignoring the fresh set of chills that prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. For a moment, she focussed on the brush. A gorgeous piece of craftsmanship, passed down from her mother's side for generations, finally landing in her possession on her sixteenth birthday, unlike how her mother had received it, in the will of her own mother.

She tried not to cry when it broke mid-stroke in her blond curls. She glared at both ends, one in each hand, as if the object had done it on purpose.

She sighed, ignoring the feeling of dread, ignoring the cold, and stood to make her way to the wardrobe. Fearing the worst, she ignored her favorite skirts, and picked up her plain green set instead. As she straightened them out, the edge of the skirts caught an exposed nail on her bed. They were thoroughly ripped from the motion.

She stared in disbelief at the nail. When did that come loose?!

She finally set the skirts down on the end of her bed, and went back to the wardrobe. In the corner, almost hidden, were a pair of blood red leather pants that she hadn't realized she owned. She carefully pulled them out, glancing around for any other possible means of ruin.

She set them down gently, as if they could easily be broken, on the long cushioned bench at the end of her bed. Then she looked for what to pair with them. She had a black corset vest (that she also was unaware she owned) that had beautiful, simple, silver embroidery. She gently set it down next to the pants, and quickly found a simple white blouse with long, billowy sleeves.

She looked at the items spread out on the bench. She might look like a pirate this day, but at least she would be properly clothed. And perhaps looking like one may help convince her mother to cancel the dreaded upcoming ball to be held in her honor. It was worth an attempt, anyway.

Once dressed with the help of her ladies maid, she nodded to herself in the mirror. She certainly did look like a fierce swashbuckling pirate, even if she felt like wrapping herself in a million blankets and sitting next to a warm, cozy fire, drinking hot chocolate…

She shivered, and tried to swallow the chills and dread as she made her way down for breakfast. Along the way, she realized how high the sun had gotten, and she nearly ran to the dining room, a feat which physically caused her muscles to ache.

She was too late. Her father had already left on royal business, and she'd missed her chance at a good-bye. Yet another thing this blasted day had cost her.

At least her mother was still there, next to the empty seat her father always occupied.

"Emma…" Snow eyed her daughter from head to toe with an amused smile threatening her lips before nodding at the kitchen assistant standing a few feet away. "Another tactic to cancel the ball, dear?"

Snow never missed a beat, and Emma smiled sheepishly as she sat across from her mother. "Actually, I have had a strange morning." She couldn't help the shiver this time, and her mother's expression turned from amused to concern.

"Why, is everything alright?"

Emma couldn't bring herself to speak. The things that had happened were trivial, really, not some big disaster as it felt to her. She knew this. She also knew her mother would gleen the truth one way or another.

"Talk to me." Snow insisted.

Emma sighed, and proceeded to, calmly, explain her morning, trying desperately not to shiver again in her mother's presence. She failed at that. Somewhere during her story, her mother had gotten up and moved around the table, wrapping her daughter in her arms. It did not help her to feel warmer in the slightest.

"I know how foolish this is." Emma rubbed her temples in frustration.

"It isn't foolish to be upset over broken or ripped things. These things do happen, however, and they can be fixed, and I hope that takes away some of the burden you're feeling. It certainly isn't foolish to worry about a cold you may be catching."

"I don't think it is a cold, though." The kitchen maid returned with a plate for Emma, and she thanked the young woman. "It feels too unnatural. Surreal. Like it's not really me that's cold, I'm just receiving the brunt end of… whatever it is."

Snow stiffened a bit. "Will you at least agree to see Doc? For me." Emma focused on her plate, taking a too-big bite of her sausage. Snow sighed. "Emma."

Emma groaned in response, swallowing the bite. "Okay, okay! Fine. If I can't shake the feeling before lunch I will see Doc."

"Willingly." Her mother added with a curt nod.

Emma rolled her eyes, but nodded just the same. Her mother gave her a final squeeze before moving away.