Ugh this chapter was a bitch to write haha. I've changed Snowing's backstory around a bit, will probably revisit it in the future. Once again, thank you to seemeeimbeebee for being my beta. You're awesome and I appreciate you so much.

Enjoy! ;)

xxxXXXxxx

Chapter 9:

"Ow!" Regina cried out. "Watch it!"

"My apologies, Your Highness," a servant said as she removed the offending pin from Regina's hair. Another helped arrange Regina's light indigo skirt across the chaise she was seated on. From her armchair, Emma watched with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

Lessons had seemed slower this morning, with the teacher droning on and on about various mushrooms and their magical properties. She usually had her fencing lessons afterward, but today her instructor was absent and she had no interest in doing needlepoint with her mother instead. So she decided to do some more digging on Henry's theory.

The castle had a library the girls seldom visited. It contained not only books but records and archives from the kingdom's past. Emma browsed the shelves for several minutes, trying to find some sort of clue. Alas, she couldn't find anything about her mother's "feud" with Snow White. There were no records of any battles between the two, besides the one where the Dark Curse had been cast. In fact, prior to this, Snow White's kingdom was listed among the others that traded with them.

So what changed? Had there been a personal falling out between the two rulers? Or was Henry onto something?

After several hours of looking, Emma decided to stop beating around the bush and read the pages Henry gave her. But before she could go to her room and read them in privacy, Regina cornered her and dragged her off to one of the drawing rooms. She barely managed to grab a random book off a shelf and stuff the pages inside.

"Remind me again why you're doing this?"

"Because it feels like the perfect time to do it. After all, Mother says it's never too early to have your portrait painted."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Let's hope the canvas is large enough for your head," she muttered, ducking to avoid the pillow Regina chucked at her.

Ever since last night, her sister's ego had been insufferable. She kept going on and on about the village and how "grateful" everyone was to her and that she possibly finally found her calling as queen. Now she had plans of allowing villagers to come see her and air their grievances, as well as other ludicrous things. What really annoyed Emma was Regina's real motive wasn't to help the villagers but to impress their mother.

Shooing the servants away, Regina began playing with a variety of poses. She looked so ridiculous, Emma had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh nothing," Emma said in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone. "Just a… little light reading."

"And where did you find this book?" Regina asked skeptically.

"From the library. You know, where books are supposed to be."

"Since when do you visit the library?"

Emma didn't answer. Her ears were hot again. Regina groaned loudly. "You're not still hung up on that Snow White business, are you? Because Mother already told you. She banished her because she would've destroyed our kingdom."

"But why? Regina, aren't you a little curious about why Mother hates this woman so much?"

"Nope. And neither should you. It's in the past, Emma. Let it go." She then directed her attention to the royal painter standing nearby. "Aren't you ready yet? I have more important things to do."

"Regina-"

But her sister was no longer listening. The painter began his work and Regina became still. Emma might as well have been another chair or tapestry in the room.

Discreetly looking around to make sure none of the servants were paying her any notice, Emma surreptitiously opened her book to the pages folded inside. Checking one last time, she began to read the tale of Snow White and Prince Charming.

The two met at a tournament hosted by Snow White's father, King Leopold. The prize had been for his daughter's hand in marriage. But unlike the other knights, who only admired the princess because of her beauty, Charming was intrigued by her fighting spirit. He ended up formally courting her and over time, she was won over by his kind heart.

Of course, their love was not without challenges. Charming's cruel father, King George, tried to keep them apart. He wanted his son to marry Princess Abigail, the daughter of a wealthier king. When Charming refused, he imprisoned his son in the dungeons and sent word to King Leopold that the Prince had been killed in a duel. But Snow White was not easily fooled. With the help of her most loyal servants, she managed to infiltrate King George's castle and rescue Charming herself.

Emma skimmed ahead a bit as the two went on to have various adventures involving bounty hunters, witches, sirens, even a gorgon, each with an accompanying illustration. Snow White was depicted with an arrow notched in her bow, long ebony hair blowing in the wind and forest green eyes narrowed in determination. Back to back with her was Prince Charming, red caped and sandy haired, sword drawn and ready.

They looked like warriors.

Their relationship was rather peculiar to Emma. Throughout it all, the couple affirmed their love with a vow that if they were separated again, they would always find each other. And as the years passed, that bond between them only strengthened. Ever since she was a child, Emma considered marriages to be less about love and more about helping build partnerships between kingdoms. Perhaps it was because her own parents had had an arranged marriage themselves and seldom showed each other affection (or at least her mother did).

It suddenly occurred to Emma how little she understood what love was.

She read on.

Snow and Charming eventually married and planned to start a family. But tragically, fate intervened. Discord had been slowly brewing between Charming and his father. Worst of all, King George allied himself with a queen in the south, who had been gradually encroaching on Snow White's kingdom. The Charmings did everything they could to avoid a war but it was in vain. The queen was gifted in Dark Magic and on one fateful day, she cast a curse on them to ensure that they and all their subjects would suffer. Snow White and Charming were only able to send just their infant daughter away through an enchanted wardrobe before the curse overtook them.

In their last moments together, their vow became a promise.

Snow White was imprisoned in some place that bore special significance to the queen, while Charming was banished to another undiscovered realm. The inseparable couple had been torn apart. As for their daughter, she was found in the queen's garden, safe and alive behind enemy walls, unaware of her true lineage.

While it was a nice story, it still didn't answer any of her questions. Snow White still didn't seem like a "wicked" person as her mother had described. There was no explanation why she cast the curse nor where Snow White currently was. The prophecy Henry mentioned was nowhere to be seen in the text. It was on a separate page with no accompanying story, so it could possibly have just been an unfinished poem or poorly worded couplet. Why did Henry think these two were connected?

Emma sighed to herself, feeling very foolish. She was reading something from a storybook, not an official text. Served her right to believe in an imaginative child.

She began to close the book, but then something caught her eye.

On the last page was the illustration Henry had shown her earlier of Prince Charming placing his daughter in the wardrobe. His face was drawn with an expression of masked anguish. In his arms, the babe slept unaware. Emma looked at the drawing a little closer. And her heart almost skipped a beat.

The blanket the child was swaddled in. It was white, lined with purple thread. There seemed to be a name embroidered along the hem. She held the page closer to her face.

It looked just like…

Emma practically jumped out of her chair.

"What's wrong?" said Regina, her brow furrowed.

But Emma didn't answer. She hurried out of the drawing room, leaving behind her confused sister calling after her. The shaking in her hands had returned as did the warmth behind her cheeks.

It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence.

Her feet carried her swiftly down the hall until she reached her bedroom. Sinking to her knees, she opened the trunk at the foot of her bed, containing the items that were truly her most treasured possessions. She began tossing various books and toys aside until she found what she was looking for. Her hands shook as she slowly lifted it out: her baby blanket.

It seemed smaller than the last time she held it and the purple thread was fraying but the wool was still soft to the touch and the name 'Emma' was still visible. Draping it over her arm, she held up the page next to the blanket. They looked similar.

It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence.

The name in the illustration was too tiny to read. But everything else matched; the coloring, the shape, even the way the thread curved and wove the name. There was no denying it. Her blanket was the one in the picture.

Emma sagged in disbelief. Her mind raced as she tried to control her pounding heart.

It's just a story. It's just a story from a book. It's not true.

But all those signs that Emma had been seeing all her life. The one she had been trying to brush aside her, yet they always lingered in the back of her mind. They all made sense now.

Her appearance never matched anyone else's in the family. The feeling that always nagged her, the one of being out of place. The way the Queen often treated Emma more like a pet than a daughter. The library did not contain any archived information about her birth and naming.

The sense of peace she felt in the garden, under the old hollowed tree...

No, it's just a coincidence. Snow White having a daughter doesn't mean anything. You're just imagining things.

There was a knock, almost too soft to hear, that made Emma jump.

"Go away Regina!" she shouted.

"Duckling? Is everything alright?" It was her father.

No, not her father. The Prince .

She hurriedly opened the door to his concerned face. "Regina sent me. She said you were upset about something."

Emma wanted to shake her head no, that everything was alright but her body wouldn't move. She wanted to assuage his worries and say she wasn't upset but the lie was stuck in her throat. All she could do was stare blankly.

The silence stretched on for too long between them and the Prince could sense her distress. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but then noticed the blanket still in her hands, which made him smile. "Oh. You still have that?"

"How could I get rid of it?" Emma laughed mirthlessly. She turned away from the door to allow him inside. All those memories, of him helping her ride a horse, teaching her about the different flora and fauna in the garden, dancing with her at balls, were flashing before her eyes. The love and comfort and support she had always felt whenever he was near.

Had it never been real? Had he known all along?

"You know, I've never seen Mother knit anything," Emma said conversationally. Her fingers idly played with the woolen tassels. "Not once. I don't think she knows how to. But I've always held onto this thought that she did make this. For me. That at some point, she actually loved me."

"What do you mean? Of course your mother loves you."

"Even though I'm not her daughter?"

The Prince's eyes widened momentarily but he recovered and laughed, albeit uneasily. "Emma, where would you-"

"Did you find me in the garden ?" she blurted out.

The Prince had become a shade of white and his knees visibly shook. His mouth opened and closed a few times. "How did you…" he stammered.

"Does it matter?"

Multiple emotions cascaded across his face; shock, disbelief, realization, then dismay. He looked away, head bowed.

It was all that Emma needed for confirmation.

"So, it's true then?" Her voice trembled slightly. "You've been lying to me this whole time?"

The Prince sighed. "Emma-"

"Do you know who I really was? Where I came from?"

"You have to understand-"

"Was it all a lie?"

"No!" the Prince shouted, rather fiercely. "Don't you ever think that!"

Emma was stunned. She had never heard the Prince raise his voice before. Not once. He seemed stunned as well, averting his eyes back to the floor and wringing his hands.

The silence returned, thicker than before. Emma's hands began to sweat. A thousand different questions were in her mouth but she still couldn't speak. She felt angry but also sad. She was confused but also had clarity.

Finally, the Prince spoke.

"Your mother and I…" He began, slowly. "We had been talking for some time about having another child. But we couldn't… agree on when it was… appropriate.

"Then one day in the garden..." The corners of his mouth twitched as his tone changed to a fond one. "There you were… this small babe, all alone. As if something… or some one had delivered you to us." He sat down on the edge of the bed, his knees audibly creaking. "We waited to see if someone knew anything about a missing child but the weeks passed and no one came forward. So we decided to raise you as our own."

"You mean, you didn't keep looking? You weren't the least bit curious about where I came from."

The Prince shook his head. "It didn't matter to us. You are our daughter and always will be." His assurances were meant to be comforting but they felt hollow instead.

Emma sat on the bed beside him, no longer able to stand. She suddenly felt untethered to everything and if she didn't hold onto something, she would float out the window. All those moments, those precious memories were different. The people she thought were her parents, her family, were strangers.

No, I'm the stranger here, Emma thought as she buried her face in her hands. She felt the Prince place a consoling hand on her back.

"You know, Cora… she came from humble beginnings as well."

This made Emma look up, surprised.

"She wasn't born into royalty?"

"Not in the slightest."

"And she told you this?"

The Prince shook his head, a knowing smile on his lips. "I may be a fool but I'm not blind. The queen has many secrets. But she overcame many obstacles to become the woman she is today."

Emma's hands were shaking in her lap. The Prince reached over to clasp them gently. "What I'm trying to say, Emma, is that where you come from doesn't matter. The past is not important. What matters is what you do with the present. Only you can decide what your fate is."

Emma could only numbly nod as the Prince drew her into an embrace. Too many emotions were passing through Emma, some she couldn't identify. She tried to imagine her armor, locking it in place tighter than before, but it wasn't enough. The feelings were still coming through.

So, she pictured a wall. One that was tall and kept everything out.

xxxXXXxxx

Emma didn't dream about the room that night. She didn't sleep either.

She just couldn't get comfortable.

For several hours, she tossed and turned, the day's events tumbling around in her mind. She furiously pounded at her pillow, trying to banish unwelcome thoughts from her mind, but to no avail. Eventually, she gave up and rose from her bed.

At dinner, Regina had tried to ask Emma about why she had hurried away from the drawing room but thankfully, the Prince intervened. He lied that she had wanted to discuss with him about the next ball and what kingdoms they could invite. Although the answer seemingly placated both Regina and Cora, Emma felt the queen's gaze on her for the rest of the meal.

Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she gazed out the window. It had started raining an hour earlier and the courtyard was now empty, without a guard in sight. In the dark, she could see the fire from the wall sconces reflecting in the puddles below. Above the castle walls, the trees shuddered and rustled.

Emma sighed, her breath fogging the glass. As she wiped it away, she noticed something in the distance. Squinting, she pressed her face close. The streaking rain obscured her vision but she could just barely see the abandoned mill.

There it stood, an ugly monument of a past long forgotten, the centerpiece of the kingdom. She had always wondered why the Queen had never torn it down.

Wait a minute. Emma pressed her face against the glass.

"The queen has many secrets."

"The book says the queen imprisoned her somewhere."

"Snow White was imprisoned in some place that bore special significance to the queen."

"You know, Cora… she came from humble beginnings as well."

"Let's just say I sent her someplace where I can always keep an eye on her."

"The queen has many secrets."

Emma's eyes widened. She almost stumbled back in shock. It couldn't be…