This is a rewrite/expansion of my first OUAT fic, A Princess Returns. This will run until the season 3 mid-season finale and then there will be sequel, Family Means Nobody Gets Left Behind, which will be more Outlaw Queen focused (because I love them so much and I hate what the writers did to them).
Snow White gazed out across the kingdom, one hand gently resting on the curve of her belly, where her unborn daughter lay unaware of the fate hanging over her head.
She couldn't help the way her eyes were drawn to the Evil Queen's castle - once her castle - rising dark and forbidden from the mountains in the distance.
The baby kicked hard and she winced, rubbing the spot where the little princess had made her presence known.
"Settle down, Emma," she murmured. "I know it's hard. You haven't got the best luck with grandparents, have you? The ones that are still living all want us gone. But we'll be alright. You're going to save us, Emma Ruth. You're going to save all of us."
She and Charming had gone to such lengths to ensure Emma would have the best chance - even thinking of it made her feel a little bit sick - and they would continue to do so, even though that would mean being separated for 28 long years.
With a heavy sigh, she tore herself away from the window and made her way to the room that would be her daughter's nursery - finished but for one crucial detail.
Voices made her smile as she approached. She knew that Geppetto would be there, working diligently to finish the magical wardrobe that would take her and her child to safety, away from the Evil Queen's Dark Curse.
Jiminy was there as well, of course - she could hear his voice through the magical megaphone granted to him by the Blue Fairy - and, anyway, where Geppetto was, Jiminy was rarely far away.
But it was the third voice that brought the smile to her face - that of the carpenter's young son, who had moved into the castle with his father when the wardrobe solution was presented to them.
When she entered, Geppetto rose to his feet from his place by the wardrobe, with the grace of a much younger man, and bowed to her. "Your majesty."
"Good morning, Geppetto," Snow said warmly. "Please - don't let me interrupt. I just wanted …" she trailed off, unsure of what exactly had drawn her to her child's nursery that morning.
Geppetto gave her an understanding smile. "There is a comfort to be drawn from knowing they are looked after."
"Exactly." Snow eased herself into the rocking chair. "I see you are being a great help to your father, Pinocchio."
The little boy flushed, nodding eagerly. "Yes, your majesty. He's teaching me everything."
"In fact, my boy has a gift for you," Geppetto added. "Well, for the little princess."
Snow's smile widened. "You do? May I see?"
Pinocchio inched forwards shyly, holding out a small cube of wood, which he dropped into her hand.
"He carved it from one of the offcuts," Geppetto explained, when his son didn't. "Carved it all by himself and sanded it down."
"Papa says the tree is magic," Pinocchio said with wide eyes. "He says it's going to keep the princess safe. So that can keep her safe as well."
A lump formed in Snow's throat as she looked upon the young boy in front of her. He was barely more than a baby himself, having only been made human by Blue's magic a matter of months ago.
And yet he was so invested in her child's safety.
And she had no idea what would happen to him when the Dark Curse took them.
If only the tree could take more than one.
"Thank you, Pinocchio," she said softly, when she was sure she could speak again. She took his hand and pressed the cube of wood back into it. "Can you look after it for me? Until she's born?"
Pinocchio nodded, slipping it into his pocket, and Snow instinctively drew him into a hug, feeling him melt into a mother's embrace.
At least it might keep him safe. At least for a little while.
"I made this for you. Before you were born."
Emma turned the block of wood over and over in her hand, replaying August's words.
Her best friend was apparently her childhood saviour - and was, apparently, stark raving mad.
Of course, he wasn't the first person to spin the fairytale story - but the other two consisted of Henry - who was just a child - and Jefferson - who was definitely stark raving mad.
And, yes, it was a little unnerving that all three of them had given the same story, apparently without ever discussing it with each other (at least, August said he hadn't talked to Henry about it - she had certainly seen them talking over the book Henry carried with him everywhere).
But it was just a story.
Henry had been given the book almost immediately after finding out he was adopted. He certainly wouldn't be the first child to come up with fantastic stories of his birth parents.
Jefferson was obviously not right in the head - quite aside from the kidnapping, he was absolutely convinced that Paige was his daughter.
Having met Paige - and her parents - Emma was certain that wasn't the case.
August was a bit trickier, but if he was telling the truth about finding her when she was a baby - and Emma was certain he was - it wouldn't be all that strange for a young boy to be traumatised by that fact.
Maybe he created the fairytale story to make himself feel better.
August was the first to admit that he had a past that involved more alcohol than he was proud of - Emma knew first-hand how reality and fantasy could blend together after a few drinks.
Maybe a lifetime was enough to cement fantasy as reality.
Of course, they weren't the only people to suggest there was something wrong …
As the wooden cube continued to tumble through her fingers, Emma's eyes drifted to the makeshift bracelet around her wrist.
Graham's face floated in her vision, his eyes wide with shock. "I remember," he'd whispered, a shaky hand reaching out to touch her face. "Thank you."
What had he remembered?
The same thing Emma had - the feeling of being with someone who cared?
Or had he remembered something else.
"She has my heart," he'd said.
"He was the Huntsman," Henry had told her morosely a few days later. "He gave up his heart for Snow White's."
"It doesn't make any sense," Dr Whale had admitted. "Perfectly fit, healthy men don't generally have heart attacks out of nowhere."
None of it made any sense, as far as Emma was concerned.
David Nolan was perfect proof of that.
Mayor Mills had supposedly found him at the side of the road and brought him to the hospital, and he'd been John Doe ever since. Graham had told her that he'd been in the hospital for 'as long as anyone could remember'.
Why, then, did Kathryn insist that they had been married for only five years?
And how did Regina - Kathryn's 'best friend' - not recognise her husband?'
And why did Kathryn never report him missing?
The cube fell from her fingers, clattering against the wooden floor, and Emma was startled out of her thoughts.
This was ridiculous.
Whatever the reason, none of it had anything to do with fairy tales.
She was not a princess.
Regina was not an Evil Queen.
This was real life - and real life wasn't a fairy tale.
Emma learned that a long time ago. With a sigh, she got to her feet and folded up her resignation letter to drop off at the mayor's office.
Mary Margaret would be home in an hour or so, and Henry would be there any minute. All she had to do was finish packing - and maybe treat herself to the apple turnover Regina had offered as a peace offering.
She decided, however, not to mention that fact to Henry. He didn't need any more ammunition.