Notes:
Pretty sure this idea has been done to death. That's not gonna stop me from providing my own spin on it, though.
Very short chapter this time. If it helps, the next one is over 3k.
Prologue (1)
Even fairy tales have rules. Some are obvious - the morals, the lessons imparted - and some are less so, such as the rhythm of events, or characters.
Threes and sevens, in particular, seem to be critical. Three little pigs or three bears with three bowls and three beds, seven brides for seven brothers, seven dwarves, and so on. Everything that is crucial to the story comes by threes or by sevens.
And yet, it escapes her for decades. Over thirty years pass; time clouding her memories while hurt twists fact into fiction or possibly vice-versa, and perhaps that is why the pieces don't click into place until Emma Swan is flung from a portal to land in a heap on the floor while Regina suddenly struggles to breathe.
"Hi," Emma says; at length, in a tone that is somewhere between sheepish and uncertain and so familiar that it aches, and Regina stares at that dress she wears and squeezes the glass in her hand until the crystal creaks.
It began on the seventh day of the seventh month, just over three decades and three years ago. And it ended after seven weeks.
