The next morning, Emma was completely exhausted. She'd only arrived back at the Mills' estate at three in the morning after visiting the pawn shop a few towns over, only to have to wake up a few hours later to begin her daily chores. Quietly, she dressed in a blouse and trousers, hair in a tight braid, and escaped her room thankfully without waking Henry. Her first task was to collect the Mills' dirty clothes to be washed (by her), and more importantly, doing so without disrupting their sleep. She first went to Regina's suite only to find all her dirty clothes piled just inside the door. After silently thanking Regina, she brought the pile of dresses down to the laundry room before returning upstairs to collect Zelena's load. Zelena being Zelena of course, had her clothes spread haphazardly around the room, making it doubly hard for Emma to not wake her, especially when she had to pull soiled undergarments from beneath Zelena's foot. Successful in two of the three rooms, Emma gained confidence that would cost her dearly. Collecting all of Cora's clothes, she was about to leave, before noticing a nightgown half hidden by a small accent table. Pulling it out, the load of clothing in her arms bumped the table, causing it to crash to the ground. Cora immediately sat up, eyes searching the room for the cause of her disturbed sleep. Locking eyes with Emma, she smiled and stood, slowly walking to her closet as Emma watched, frozen in place.
"Do you know what you just did, Miss Swan?" Cora's disjointed voice floated across the room to Emma, followed by the snap of Cora's 'disciplinary switch'. Knowing better than to leave, Emma sighed, shoulders already aching from the beating that had yet to come.
Some hours later, Regina nudged open the door to Emma's room with a foot, eyeing her defeated form. Emma watched as Regina placed a small basin of water beside her bed, Regina's intention clear when she wrung the excess water from a washcloth.
"This is going to hurt, Emma." Though they'd both been through this scene dozens of times before, Regina always warned her before she began to wash her bleeding back. Emma hissed at the sharp pain when the cloth connected with her back, but Regina didn't stop, only pausing for a few seconds before continuing in her task.
"So-" Emma pulled in a quick breath between her teeth, but, determined to take her mind off the aching sting of her back, continued. "How's the-" She clenched her jaw, "How's the married life treating you?"
"Well, seeing as I haven't seen my husband since the ceremony, it's about the same. Speaking of which, how is the money collection going?" Emma nodded at the pile of Henry's clothes in the corner of the small room.
"Take a look." Regina pushed Henry's clothes to the side to find a sack the size of her head at the bottom, pulling the drawstring to open it, she gasped as the light hit the gold pieces inside the burlap sack. "Should be about half the cost of John MacDonald's farm, right?"
"Yes, yes this is - this is a lot of money! How did you get so much in one night?"
"You know, just a little here and there. A few dozen rings, thirty-two bracelets, and forty-seven necklaces. At this rate, tomorrow morning we can buy John's farm, the day after we can get the building materials to expand the farmhouse and build me a cottage, and the day after we can furnish both houses and get other necessities. By the last day of the festival, before the fifth ball, we can take Henry and move onto our new land. What do you think?"
"I think that this is an incredibly illegal way to make money." Both women laughed, knowing that it wasn't hurting any of Emma's targets to lose some ostentatious jewelry, though the movement of her shoulders sure as hell hurt her. When Regina finished bandaging Emma's still sluggishly bleeding back, she sat back on her heels, knowing as Emma did, that her injuries didn't excuse her from her daily chores. "I'll be back before you have to prepare us for the ball tonight to change your dressings."
"Could you also make sure Henry keeps away from me today, without letting him know you're purposefully keeping him away?"
"I mean, of course I will, but why?" Emma sighed.
"Well for one, he's a smart kid, he'll figure out what happened this morning and I don't think either of us want to deal with that. For another, I like hugging the guy, and I won't be able to resist. You know how it is."
"Alright, I'll take him to the part of the library devoted to the law to pick out some books and take him to my study so he can read in peace. That should keep him distracted for the next four months. I've got to go, will you be okay?" Emma nodded, but before Regina could shut the door, she called her back.
"Actually, Regina, once Henry's all set up in your study, you should probably come back to help me with my chores and for a crash course in 'how to do things' for when you'll be doing all this for your own house. You know, until the houses are ready for us, I think you should stick with me to get some practice." She grinned at Regina, already picturing the other woman's reaction to her daily workload.
"How do you get up in the morning?!" Regina flopped onto her bed, exhausted from the tasks Emma had given her. "And how do you go to bed at night on this bed? It's awful!" Regina glared at Emma's pitiful excuse for a bed. Emma however, just laughed.
"You learn to do it automatically, and get fast enough that you still have a good amount of free time. But do not tell your mother - or your sister for that matter - what I've just revealed to you. It is a very well-kept secret of the serving class. As for the bed, it's better than nothing." She sat beside Regina, who continued moaning, face-down on her bed. "Now get up, we've got to make you pretty again. What would your husband say if he saw you in such a state of disarray?" Emma chuckled at the glare Regina threw her when she sat up.
"God I hate you right now." Emma just laughed again in reply. She then disappeared to get water to fill Regina's bathtub, taking five trips of two buckets-full each. Giving Regina the soap (Regina insisted on total privacy while she bathed, which meant she washed herself), she went to her wardrobe to pick out the gown Regina would wear.
"Hey, how does a nice lavender sound for tonight?" When Emma received a muffled affirmative, she pulled out the undergarments Regina would need. Once the woman in question had dried herself off, Emma secured a corset around her waist, pulling at the laces until Regina could barely breathe and helped her step into the mountain of petticoats that would give the ballgown a fashionable amount of volume. Finishing her friend off with the actual dress over her head, Emma took a step back, proud of the quick assembly of Regina's outfit. When she'd completed Regina's hair and makeup, Emma then had to (reluctantly) help Zelena get ready, which included scrubbing every inch of the woman's body until it shone, suggesting every ball gown in her closet until landing on the one Zelena had likely wanted to wear all along, trying exactly four different hairstyles, being berated for not-so-accidentally making the process as painful for Zelena as she could, and getting ropeburn across her fingers from tightening the laces on her corset harder than ever before. Without a word of thanks, Zelena had dismissed Emma from her chambers which brought her to that moment, back in her own cramped room perpetually wincing as Regina pulled off the bandages stuck to her skin with dried blood.
"Ow! Goddammit Regina, could you be a bit more gentle?!" At her comment, Regina removed the strip she had been working on far more forcefully than the previous bandages. "OW! Okay, I get it! You're being as gentle as you can-Agh! Ow. That was the last one though, right?" Looking over her shoulder at the woman behind her, she relaxed at Regina's nod while tensing at the sight of the bloodied bandages at her side.
"I'm going to suggest that you wear the red tonight, just in case you bleed through the new wraps. Okay?" After Emma's affirmative grunt, the rest of their interaction went by relatively silently.
If mounting Rociante had been painful, dismounting after a rough canter was excruciating. Closing her eyes at the relief of having two feet firmly planted on the ground, Emma was tempted to remain beside the horse instead of entering the ball. Reminding herself that everything she would do that night would help to ensure that her son would never have to experience anything close to the pain she'd been subjected to that very morning, she infiltrated the palace through the same window as the last night. Making a mental note to speak to the prince at the fourth ball (the last time she'd have to enter the palace) about increasing security or just making the current security measures better. Deciding that tonight her body would not be able to handle all the purposeful bumping into people she'd done the previous night, Emma chose to target bracelets, purses, and pocket watches (also known as things she'd be able to slip off a person relatively easily without being noticed). Tonight the plan was to get as many valuables as possible before midnight when she'd have to leave in order to make sure that she'd be back at the Mills' before they returned and avoid the prince she kept encountering. Thankfully, she could predict what he'd be wearing based on the other prince waltzing across the ballroom. The music crescendoed and the couples began moving faster, swirling around each other with a grace Emma could never hope to have. Making her way around the perimeter of the room, she carefully slipped bracelets from the delicate wrists of the noblewomen and used a small dagger to cut the chains of the noblemen's pocket watches. This continued until about eleven in the evening, with only a few close calls in regards to facing the prince. Thankful that the night had gone off without a hitch, Emma relaxed. That is, until she heard a disturbing exclamation from a woman she'd just relieved of a particularly fetching set of gold bangles.
"Someone's stolen my bracelet!" At the lady's shrill announcement, other guests began to notice their missing accessories, shouts of indignation filling the room. Knowing a quick exit was in her near future, Emma made her way out into the cool night air, taking a turn around the garden, waiting for the music to resume, the weight of her stolen prizes inexplicably growing heavier. Suddenly, a hand was over her mouth, and she was being dragged to an unoccupied corner of the gardens. Realizing the intentions of her captor, Emma went limp, waiting for the lights of the ballroom to disappear behind the foliage before fighting back. She brought a foot down hard onto one of her captor's, causing him to release her. Spinning around, she counted four young noblemen, all with presumably the same goal.
"Really? Four against one? That just seems unfair." Emma put a hand on the hilt of her sword, surprising them when they realized what exactly she was holding on to, but the man (boy, really) she assumed was the leader just laughed, his comrades laughing too. Clearly they were even dumber than they looked when they advanced on her as a group, all but the leader with hands on the hilts of their decorative fencing foils.
"Give us the sword, sweetheart, and this won't have to hurt a bit." The leader's lecherous grin seemed to embolden his friends, who drew their foils, and assumed the first stance of fencing (she guessed). This time, it was Emma's turn to draw her shortsword and against their flimsy needles, she laughed. One of the men gulped and faltered when he saw her sure stance and intelligent gaze, but it seemed that her double-edged blade just angered the other three. With one quick swipe, she cut off a good half of their foils and raised an eyebrow, taunting them. The leader finally drew his rapier and waved the other three back.
"I'm only going to ask this one more time, sweetheart. Put down the sword and I won't have to hurt you." The dangerous glint in the man's eyes just made her chuckle. He lunged, and she evaded before smacking the back of his hand with the flat of her blade, drawing a thin line of blood and causing him to relinquish his foil. Picking it up with her left hand, Emma experimentally flicked her wrist. Deciding it wasn't worth it, she just threw it back over her head. The man advanced again, an especially dumb decision when he had no weapon, and made to grab her by the waist. Spinning around, her skirt flared as she brought the butt of her sword down on his head, knocking him out cold.
"Who's next?" The remaining three looked at each other and discarded their useless foils as they lunged at her simultaneously, one trying to trip her, another knock her out, and the third making a grab for her blade. The first she kicked in the head, the second she knocked to the ground, and the third, she let him have her sword. He stepped back, clearly not expecting it to be so easy. At his sudden confusion, she took the opportunity to kick the sword back, his loose grip making the force of the impact send the hilt back and hit him in the head, breaking his nose. Retrieving her sword from the howling boy on the ground, she faced the last two that were only just getting up. One tried to attack from the side, leaving the backs of his knees exposed when she spun away and he stumbled. Quickly, she severed the tendons in his left knee, crippling him. At the same time the other had been running at her from the front, and when she evaded him, he ended up tripping over his friend. Before he could rise, she knocked him out with the butt of her sword the same way she had the leader. As the adrenaline faded, the agony of her back made itself known, making Emma sink to the ground at the intense pain.
Killian had spent the entirety of the night looking for his Cinderella (funny how quickly an unknown woman had become his), but every time he thought he'd caught a glimpse of her, she disappeared. Retreating to the balcony she'd occupied the previous night, he felt an acute disappointment when she was absent. Deciding to use it to look for Cinderella in the gardens, he was close to giving up, when he saw a blonde woman in a red dress and riding boots being dragged off into the bushes by a man he slightly recognized, and he felt his heart rise to his throat. Pushing through the angry people in the ballroom, he raced across the grounds, hoping he wouldn't be too late. When he arrived at the spot he'd seen her be dragged away, he followed the two lines dug into the ground from her boots as she was dragged away. At the end of the lines, he heard a grunt and the thud of a body hitting the ground accompanied by a high-pitched howling that he could only assume was Cinderella. Picking up a fencing foil that had been discarded, he rounded a corner in the shrubbery, entirely prepared to kill any man that had dared hurt a woman, he could hardly describe his surprise when he saw four men on the ground, and Cinderella, seated, eyes closed, unharmed, in the center. The howling was courtesy of one of the men who seemed to be nursing a broken nose, while the other three were on the ground, unmoving.
"Bloody hell woman, what happened?! Did you kill them?!" Even Killian himself didn't know if he was asking a question or just making a statement. Cinderella's eyes shot open, hazel connecting with blue.
"Dammit, I was trying to avoid you! And of course not, they're just unconscious. I think." She stood quickly, pain flashing across her face before she was neutral again.
"Are you hurt?" He stepped over an unconscious body to pull her into his arms, though she resisted admirably.
"No, I'm not! So would you just let me go?" Sighing, he did as she asked, releasing her, not believing her for a second, though he had no idea why.
"What did happen? All I saw was one of them taking you here." Cinderella dusted off her gown and reached for a sword that was laying on the ground beside one of the bodies. She then wiped off the dirt and blood on one of the unconscious men's shirts and sheathed it in a pocket of her dress that he never would have seen on his own, the folds of the dress covering the hilt.
"They decided they wanted to 'have their way' with me, and didn't back off when they should have." To emphasize her statement, she rolled over one of the bodies with a foot, revealing a nasty bruise forming on his forehead, kicking him in the gut - he assumed - for good measure.
"Remind me not to cross you, love." She rolled her eyes at the endearment, though it only made him grin wider. He offered her an arm, and she - of course - pushed it away. "You know, I think my brother would quite like you." Cinderella mimed gagging, walking away from the three unconscious men and the one still crying.
"I have no intention of meeting another royal, Prince Killian. One is annoying enough." Killian jogged after her, smiling that she remembered his name, though hers was still a mystery. She looked over her shoulder at him and rolled her eyes again. "Look, this has been fun Your Highness, but I have things to do, so, I'll just be going now." Running to catch up with her, he grabbed her shoulder in an effort to detain her, releasing immediately when she hissed, bowing over in pain. Looking at his hand, Killian realized that it had come away red and wet. The crimson of the blood on his hand perfectly matched the shade of her gown, so had he not grabbed her, he never would have known she was bleeding.
"You're bleeding! I knew it! You need a doct-" The rest of his words were cut off when the first bell sounded, another eleven following it. When he looked away from the chimes, Cinderella was halfway to the ballroom, not slowing for a second. By the time he made it to the outskirts of the ballroom, however, only a flash of red was left as she ran into a side hallway. By the time he made it there, nothing was left of her.
When the night was over, Killian had more questions about his Cinderella than he did answers. What was her name? Who was her family? How did she leave hours before the night was over? What or who had hurt her? How badly was she hurt? Why would she attend if she was hurt? How long before she'd arrived had she been hurt? Where did she learn how to wield a sword? Who would teach her? Who would let her be taught? Did she have anything to do with the robberies? If so, why? Who was she?
When Emma arrived at the Mills' estate, the sun was already rising over the horizon, and she was sure that she'd be caught the second she stepped inside. Much to her relief, it was another hour before the Mills' returned. The chaos she'd caused required every guest to be thoroughly searched, which, since there were over a hundred guests, took hours.
"Mom? Izzat you?" Henry looked at her as the door to their room creaked obnoxiously when she'd tried to enter quietly, clearly still half asleep.
"Yeah, it is, kid. But you go back to sleep." Quietly changing clothes, she silently thanked Ruby for making her gown so easy to slip in and out of within a few seconds and Henry for being completely oblivious when tired. As exhausted as she was, she fell asleep with a smile on her face, and dreamt of the life that laid ahead.
After finishing her chores the next morning at twice the normal speed with Regina's help, Emma mounted Horse, pushing the aging mare to her fastest gait for the few miles to McDonald's land.
"Morning, John!" She called, slowing Horse to a walk when they reached the farmhouse. Once John realized who it was calling him (his eyesight not what it once was) he opened the gate to one of the smaller pastures, waving them through.
"An' a good mornin' te ye too, Miss Swan! What brings ye t' me 'umble abode?" Dismounting - though not without some pain in her back - she sprinted over to him, enclosing him in a short but strong hug. Years ago, when Emma was on the streets with a young son, John had let her stay with him during an especially harsh blizzard. Once she was employed with the Mills, she'd made a point to visit him every few weeks.
"I, am here to buy your farm, John." Reaching for the sacks tied to Horse's saddle, Emma dropped them unceremoniously on the ground in front of him. John opened the burlap warily, as though he was expecting horse manure instead of the gold pieces he revealed. Closing the sacks, John looked at her suspiciously.
"I don' wan' te know where ye got the money from, do I, Miss Swan?" She grinned and shook her head.
"The only thing you need to worry about John, is how quickly you'll be able to move in with the rest of your family."
"Then ye're in luck, m'dear, a'cause I a'ready 'ave all m'things packed, an' I'm leavin' behin' most o' me furniture. Ye're free te move in whene'er ye want. Jus' remember te 'arvest th' crops 'n a few weeks." John embraced her happily. "What're ye plannin' te do wi' me land, then? Far as I know, 'tis jus' ye an' yer boy. Seems like m' land migh' be too big for ye." Emma laughed at his light tone, shaking her head slightly.
"No, you're right, John. You know Robin Hood, right? Him, his wife, and his son will live here along with Henry and me." He smiled widely.
"Whate'er 'appens, I'm proud o' ye, Miss Swan." They talked a little while longer, until his son came back to help his father finish packing up. Since Emma had bought the farm, John's son Mitch decided that they could completely move out. Once all his things were loaded onto Mitch's wagon, John hugged her once more before they trundled off. Deed in hand, Emma entered what was now her property and sat down on the porch, smiling at the prospect of building a house and home she and her son would finally be safe in.