A/N: I do try to post often. I tend to write much further than you read- 20-30 chapters ahead, which makes it difficult to remember when I posted last, so I'm glad to know it's not too little! Guys, so much is coming up that I'm proud of having written and I can't wait to see your reactions! Let's just say that this is no longer my story to write. The characters have stolen the plot, and are running with it. Thank you for reading & commenting!

~Stable Thinking~

Emma was brushing Gypsy in the stables, thankful for the mindless task, allowing her to think. She pushed past the pain in her back as she stroked the brush. Again, she felt uncertain. This time, it wasn't just a pirate. She felt uncertain in herself. A lost day. The strange man returning.

An entire day, and all it's memories, gone. Just like that. What had happened? Did she want to know? She absolutely wanted to know. Not only had there, almost certainly, been an encounter with that pirate she wasn't thinking about, but also something the witch didn't want them to know. That alone meant she would hunt down the truth vigorously. What did the villain not want them to know? And why for heaven's sake had she gone to bed fully dressed?

It was nearing midday, and the midday meal would be served soon. Emma wasn't ready for that. Because right after, both she and the castle would be transformed into a princess fit for marriage, and a kingdom designed to nurture romance, just to ensnare a prince in wedlock.

She was grateful that she didn't have any lessons this day, though if at all possible, she would be glad to continue learning from Belle. She still needed to catch up on her history, as well as the ever important "princess lessons". She was horrible with her curtsies. Belle was the perfect tutor, being both a brilliant and avid reader as well as a displaced princess herself.

Her thoughts went to the men in the castle. Neal, a witches puppet. Roland, the shy artist. And Killian Jones, pirate extraordinaire. Three completely different men all under one roof. It made her, only slightly, curious to see the differences in the near thirty men who would be joining their ranks later that evening.

She wondered about Belle, and the book. Perhaps she should have just read it herself. But if anyone can pull secrets from between the lines, it would be Belle. She'd just have to let go, and trust in others to do what they did best. Especially if they were better at it than she.

"There you are!" Emma looked up. Her mother was smiling at her, but there was a sadness behind those eyes she just couldn't ignore. "How are you holding up?"

"That depends on whether or not we're still having a ball."

"Ah, yes we are, but the attempt to get out if it means you're doing just fine, and that alone solidifies that the ball can go on as planned. A girl can have only one coming-of-age ball once in her life, you know."

Understanding struck Emma. "You never had one, did you?"

"No. But I didn't need one. Fate had your father and I tangled up long before I actually met him."

"Are you saying you think fate has no plans for me?"

"I'm saying fate could slap you with your perfect match and you'd still ignore him." She gave her daughter a knowing look. "But you get that from me, and I turned out alright."

"I'm choosing to ignore that. Midday?"

"Yes, sweetie, midday."

Emma put down the brush with a sigh, glad to be facing the wall when her face grimaced, a sign of the pain. She breathed through it, finally turning to Gypsy to place her forehead on the mares neck in silent farewell.

"Alright. Let's get this over with."