A/N: Hello, all! Fun fact, did you know that hazelnut frozen yogurt with sliced strawberry is possibly the greatest dessert in the history of everything? Because it is. I mean, I know it's poor form or whatever to eat and use a laptop at the same time, but my roommate brought me a bowl of this divine goodness and I legitimately can't stop.

But back on topic. This chapter and the next will detail a bit about Emma's life as a handmaiden, and after that, we'll get to the juicy stuff. So stick to it you guys! Feedback and suggestions are more than welcome. :)

The Handmaiden's Philosophy: Chapter Five

Emma's POV

Emma was not impressed by the Evil Queen's castle. So far as castles went (and she really did qualify as an expert, having lived in one, visited others, and studied depictions of yet more) it was fairly average in nearly every respect. Really, though it was as magnificent as its peers, the castle's only truly unique quality was the dark stone from which it was built, but that was an aspect of buildings unique to the Summerlands rather than the castle specifically. The footman that had been instructed to tend to her when she first arrived had led her frantically inside and through a servant's entrance, rushing her through twisting halls in search of Matron Josie, thus affording her a rather brief tour of it despite the fact that they were moving too quickly for Emma to truly appreciate the view.

Matron Josie was something new to her though. The servant woman who was titled Matron in the palace of her youth had been… sycophantic, to phrase it kindly. A fanatically loyal lackey of her parents used to keep the serving girls in line. Emma hadn't really expected anything different from Josie, but she was greatly surprised to find that the older woman was tough as nails, no-nonsense, and quite vocal with her opinions on the Queen's decision to pick up a stray tavern girl from Lyon to be her newest chambermaid. (Her opinions being that the Queen really ought not to choose an inexperienced whelp for a role she traditionally complained about being filled less than satisfactorily, and that she really hoped Emma was ready to deal with the Queen's temper, because she wasn't going to be comforting her if the Queen made her cry.) Emma had never experienced such –well, personality—in a servant before, and couldn't quite decide if she was delighted or bemused by the woman. She definitely understood why she had attained such a high oversight position amongst the castle's servants though. The woman was fierce, like the Queen herself.

Even then, after having shared only a mostly silent carriage ride with the Queen, Emma was coming to realize that the woman known to her for most of her life as the Evil Queen was far more complex than she had originally anticipated when she chose to accept the offer of employment.

After her first morning spent fulfilling her duties as handmaiden however, Emma was certainly beginning to comprehend just what she had gotten herself into.

Exiting the Queen's chambers with a polite curtsey when dismissed from her presence, Emma forced herself to keep her poise while she walked primly back to the Spartan (yet clean) room that she had been assigned in the servants' hall in the Royal wing of the castle. She was pleased with them, really. Emma had become accustomed to the drastically different standards of living that the peasants had as opposed to the royalty in her time away from life as a Princess in the Silverwoods. Her new room in the Queen's castle was both larger and more comfortable than her room in the tavern in Lyon, where she'd lived and worked ever since arriving in the Summerlands, and she was quite appreciative of the improvement. It was rather strange to be sleeping in a castle again, but Emma had to admit that she didn't hate it.

Once she'd slipped inside her quarters, Emma collapsed bonelessly upon the wooden chair situated in the corner, releasing a pent-up breath of nerves.

Emma had been attended to by handmaidens almost constantly for the first eighteen years of her life. As she grew older, she even often assisted her mother's handmaidens in dressing the Queen of the Silverwoods for court and pinning her hair. (Her mother's idea of 'bonding', which generally culminated in another speech extolling the greatness of True Love and fairy magic and giving hope to the people and other such things.) Thusly, she was more than familiar with the duties required of her in her new position in the very role she had once been surrounded by. The Queen's dresses –which she'd briefly looked over whilst retrieving today's dress from the closet—were of a slightly different style than those worn by the upper class in the Silverwoods, but their basic structure was the same. Emma anticipated having very few difficulties handling the repair and use of the Queen's wardrobe. Likewise, she had greatly enjoyed the opportunity to work with the Queen's beautiful head hair. Her new duties were far from a hardship to her.

No, what truly unsettled Emma about all of this was the Queen herself.

Emma was well aware that her ill-preparedness and sudden summons that morning had been a test, which she knew she had passed with flying colors. Regardless, the experience had been nerve-wracking, and it had taken a great deal of focus to keep that nervousness from manifesting physically. For once, Emma was glad for her extensive lessons in etiquette and comportment. She could feel the Queen's eyes on her as she worked; studying, cataloguing, trying to peer right past her skin and into her soul. For whatever reason, the Queen clearly thought her interesting, and that made Emma wary. Queen Regina's reputation in the Summerlands was far kinder than her reputation in the Silverwoods, but that didn't change the fact that the Queen was a very dangerous woman no matter how harshly or kindly worded the sentiment was. She practically oozed power, and Emma was well aware that as a child of Snow White, she was playing with fire just by being here. Understandably, this made her slightly edgy. It didn't help that the Queen was probably the most beautiful person she had ever laid eyes upon either, and that she was required to dress and undress said goddess each day. (As if Emma weren't flustered enough!)

Doing the things handmaidens do was easy. It was actually being a handmaiden that was hard.

Sighing and mentally pulling herself together, Emma stood and went to seek out Mabel, the Queen's chambermaid, who lived just next door. She had a feeling that unlike the night before, the servant would now be more than willing to share the specifics of her new position within the castle, and would be glad to see that she'd survived her first morning on the job.

The following weeks proved to be very interesting. Emma continued to perform impeccably in her various duties as handmaiden to the Queen, but was left with quite a bit of free time during the middle of the days when the Queen was busy. Most of the other servants were either too busy to socialize during these hours, or reluctant to do so, assuming that Emma would last only a few weeks at most. After her second morning in the Queen's company however, the monarch had given Emma permission to make use of the castle's vast library during such times. When she'd answered the Queen's summons that second morning, Emma found the Queen engrossed in a book of poetry that Emma was very familiar with.

"Have you read Leinad's 'Lake of Stars', Your Majesty?" she'd inquired in a conversational tone later, as she'd been brushing out the woman's glossy tresses and nodding her head towards where the Queen had placed the book on the vanity's edge. "It is my favorite of his poems, though I did enjoy 'The Hound' as well."

The Queen had stared at her as though she'd suddenly sprouted a second head, not that Emma blamed her. The literacy rate amongst the lower class was frankly appalling, and books were an especially rare commodity. This was especially true for books without practical purpose, such as books of poetry, which were usually read for pleasure only by those who could afford it. Generally this was limited to nobility, which so far as the Queen was aware, Emma most certainly was not.

The blonde couldn't resist messing with the Queen just a bit though, in retaliation for what she'd tried to do the morning before. And in her defense, Leinad was one of her favorite poets.

"I was allowed access to a rather extensive library in my youth," Emma explained after a heavy moment, taking pity on the woman. "I was always rather partial to poetry, though."

In response, the Queen had simply quirked a perfectly arched eyebrow and informed her where the castle's library was located, which Emma took as permission for her to read the books shelved there. In the days following, the pair of them would oftentimes engage in light discourse over books that one or the other had read. It came as no surprise to Emma that the Queen was incredibly intelligent. After all, the woman was a lone female monarch ruling in a society that was dominated by the will of men. Emma just wasn't quite prepared for how passionate she was though, underneath the nearly impenetrable shell of the politician. Emma would have thought from her reputation that the woman would be hard and cold, but Emma discovered within the first few moments of meeting her that the Queen was more like fire, burning bright and angrily behind a thin veil of calm.

Reading the Queen was like a game to Emma. The woman had a near-flawless neutral mask, and an entire Evil Queen persona to fall back on if that failed, so determining the truth of her reactions was exceedingly difficult. Of course, Emma had always relished a challenge, and she made it her silent mission to learn about the person beneath the crown rather than the ruler she showed the world.

The Queen was nothing like Emma had thought she'd be, she learned in the first few days of observation. The blonde had grown up with horror-stories revolving around the malice of the Evil Queen, and there were moments where Emma could definitely understand how the Queen had given that impression. The woman practiced powerful magic with complete ease, showed little mercy towards those who disobeyed her law (gods help them if they disobeyed the Queen directly), was as unapproachable a monarch as Emma had ever witnessed, and had no tolerance for any incompetency whatsoever. However, she was also scrupulously fair when resolving disputes, intelligent enough to run a country with truly stunning efficiency, open-minded enough to embrace and protect magical and even non-human citizens within her borders, and took a genuine interest in the wellbeing of her people. Simply through filling her position, Emma was also afforded a precious glimpse into the more personal life of the Queen that she doubted many others had ever borne witness to. She knew how the Queen liked her tea prepared for any given hour, knew that she suffered headaches when stressed, and knew that the Queen dressed more provocatively and elaborately when she was upset or nervous. She knew that though she would never admit it out loud, the Queen enjoyed little things like fresh flowers (daffodils, not roses) in her rooms, a few extra moments of her hair being brushed out even when the tangles had all been worked free, honeycakes left in her chambers so she'd have something sweet to return to after a stressful day in court, or even just having her bed turned down for her while she soaked in her tub. Emma did these things gladly, because even with as trying and rude as she could be towards her, Emma found herself genuinely liking the Queen.

Which proved that Emma truly did span more than one level of insanity, considering her parentage. But she really couldn't help it. The Queen had a beautiful mind and a beautiful smile, and more often than not, her unique brand of caustic humor made Emma genuinely grin to herself.

Things in the Summerlands were so different than the state of affairs in the Silverwoods. People here were safer. Happier. Freer. Their Queen took care of them, and protected them from threats both within and without. Oddly enough, the Evil Queen was the sort of Queen that Emma had always wished that she one day could be, and not just because Queen Regina was a woman worth more than what her body could provide to a King. She ruled well. Emma knew this to be true beyond a doubt, after having lived in the Summerlands as a peasant for two years enjoying a quality of life far improved over what she might have led had she chosen to live as a peasant in the Silverwoods. In the Silverwoods, the people supported the monarchy, not the other way around. And though Emma knew that her mother meant well, she was –plain and simple—an incredibly selfish person who chose to hide that trait beneath a thin cloak of 'good'. Money in their kingdom was allocated only to support certain citizens that met her and the King's approval. Many nonhuman peoples were run out of the country entirely. Laws were passed and enforced out of ignorance, fear, and adherence to tradition, rather than true altruism. The Silverwoods was the country in which Emma was born. The country her parents ruled. But… the Summerlands was her home, and she was never going back to where she came from.

Had she gone to the Southern Isles and married the crowned Prince Damian, Emma would have one day been Queen there, after the deaths of the current rulers. But Damian was a vile man –and yes, she had met him, despite her mother's insistence that she clearly hadn't spent enough time with him if she thought so little of her future husband—and he would have never allowed her the power to make decisions relevant to the kingdom. She would be Queen in name and pedigree only, valued only for her aesthetic appeal and ability to bear children, and Emma could never live like that. Never.

But here… she was happy here. Mending the Queen's gowns, dressing and undressing her, doing her hair, drawing her baths, discussing works of poetry and fiction, and playing the occasional game of chess when the Queen proclaimed herself in need of distraction (but Emma just thought that she was really just lonely). Perhaps this was not the life she had been born into, but it was the life that Emma had built for herself, and she was proud of the person that she was, even if that person was only a cheeky handmaiden. She felt honored to make the Queen's life just a little better with her efforts.

Because if Emma could not be Queen, she would take excellent care of the Queen she wished she could be, and that would have to be enough.

And as the weeks passed, she found that it was.