Author's Note: I had a really bad day, and cranky Emma proved to be catharsis. Yay, writing through the pain!
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The sunlight was bright in the morning, but I wasn't hopeful that the day's surprises or my mood would live up to the cheery glow and the sound of little birds. Would those feathered tweeters go land on the queen's fingers as she leaned out her window and sang? Ridiculous. It was all ridiculous.
I let out a frustrated sigh before I even opened my eyes.
Killian rolled over to be closer to me in the large bed. He brushed my hair from my face.
"Good morning, love," he murmured.
"Is it?" I asked at equal volume, my eyes still closed and my stormy mood not quelled by a night of fitful sleep.
My dreams had been vivid and confusing, full of wish-fulfilment and the cold contrast of reality: scenes of my real childhood interposed with scenes of what my life could have been like with a loving family. A loving royal family at that.
Could they really be my parents? And if they were, did it mean anything? They'd abandoned me. But as much as I tried to be cold and objective about the situation, I couldn't seem to squash the tiny, childlike glimmer of hope deep in my heart that maybe I'd finally, finally found my family. After so long among the other lost children, in orphanages, group homes, and the odd horrible foster situation, I'd thought I'd given up on that dream I'd had as a little girl. Apparently some spark of it had survived my attempts at stamping out the flame. I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
With another sigh, I reluctantly opened my eyes. I found Killian looking down at me, propped up on one elbow beside me, his expression open save the slight tightness around his eyes. He was worried about me, I knew, which made me feel even worse.
"You hungry?" I asked him, desperate for some mundane something to break the spell of unease and doubt that had settled over us.
"Famished," he said with a little upward quirk of his mouth.
The reminder of our wedding night—that simultaneously seemed such a short and long time ago—brought up more mixed feelings. I let out a little huff of something close to a laugh. Or I hoped it sounded more like a laugh than a choked sob. Everything was too raw. Levity would be better than falling apart.
Killian shifted and threaded his fingers through mine. The feel of his hand reassured me more than I would have expected. I had no right for it to be that way, but there was something about Killian. In another life, maybe we could have been happy. But my life was eight shades of complicated. Still, that simple act of holding my hand was welcome.
"Then let's go get breakfast," I said with more than a little resignation.
He hummed in enthusiastic agreement and continued to hold my hand as we got out of bed. He only reluctantly released me so we could get dressed. He pulled me close first, and kissed me thoroughly. I strongly considered just taking him back to bed and forgetting everything else. It was tempting. Very tempting. But I needed to get answers. Even if they were ridiculous fairy tale answers, I needed something, and that meant leaving the room and talking to the people claiming to be my parents.
Once we were clothed, Killian took my arm and escorted me to the door with a soft, warm smile. The expression drew a little of the tension from my shoulders, and I considered once more yanking him back to bed and wiping the expression off his face, replacing it with—
I cleared my throat as we stepped out into the hall. It wasn't like me to avoid problems like that. Well, it hadn't been like me in a long time. I'd grown up. I'd gotten married… Twice… I could handle it. Whatever it was.
The butler in the hallway startled me, and I cursed at him, which drew a short chuckle from Killian. I shot him a murderous, betrayed look and then lifted my chin as the servant got all servant-y and asked what he could do for us.
"Food," I said in a gruff voice.
"Please," Killian added for me, flashing the man a grin.
The butler inclined his head and gestured with one arm. Then he made a neat turn, literally clicking his heels, and began leading us down the long hallway.
In the light of day, I could see the castle much better than I'd been able to the night before. My curiosity overrode my desire to turn my nose up at everything, and I found myself examining my surroundings with interest.
The castle was beautiful.
Late morning sunlight filtered in through the windows to illuminate polished marble and shining hardwood. Tapestries and paintings hung on the walls, interspaced by sculptures and vases and other art objects. Each piece was gorgeous in its own way, and I found myself wanting to slow down and examine them individually. I tried to tell myself it was just because they were pretty and not because I wanted to know the occupants of the palace better.
My parents.
No.
Silly dreams aside, there was nothing about the man and woman that convinced me of their claim. The fact that they believed it just meant they were crazy. The fact that I could see the curve of my chin on the queen's face meant nothing. Coincidence. Or faulty memory. When I saw the woman again in better light, she might not look like me at all. Probably. Maybe.
I sighed, and Killian squeezed my hand. He was running the pad of his thumb over my knuckles. It was nice. I forced a brief smile in his direction and he responded with a completely genuine smile of his own.
The butler turned a corner into another well-appointed hall, and then he led us down a flight of stairs and through a library. Another hallway, and then we came to a dining room that felt large to me but seemed less grand than the other rooms I'd seen.
A table set for twelve filled the middle of the room, and silver trays with lids stood on a buffet at the far wall, guarded by a pair of footmen. Another footman stood off in the corner with a selection of beverages.
The king and queen sat together at the far end of the table, dressed finely but without crowns or scepters or any such signs of station. Liam sat to the king's left at the first place setting along the edge of the table. As the butler escorted Killian and me in, a footman scurried to pull back the chair opposite Liam, first on the queen's side of the table. The dark-haired monarch beamed at me and rose from her seat, gesturing for me to join her. I whined under my breath, earning another finger-squeeze from Killian, and then I crossed the room to take the offered chair.
"Emma," the queen said in the exact same tone she'd used the night before. She sounded awed and delighted and sad and wistful all at once. I had no idea how she fit so much emotion into two syllables.
"Your majesty," Killian said, bowing crisply before he took the seat to my right.
"Killian," the queen said, focusing her attention on the man for a moment. The king looked up, too, and Liam frowned around a silver spoon of some kind of porridge. "May I call you Killian?"
"Of course, ma'am," Killian said without a second's hesitation. He smiled politely at the queen.
"May I fill your glass?" the footman who'd been guarding the drinks table asked as he stepped forward.
I looked up at him and frowned for a moment. I wanted something comforting. And I thought I could smell the thing I wanted.
"Do you have hot chocolate?" I asked hesitantly, feeling the features of my face contort.
"Indeed," the young man said, inclining his head. He started to turn away, no doubt to fetch the drink, but I spoke again.
"If it's not too much trouble, could you add some cinn—" I started to say.
"Cinnamon," the queen said before I could finish the word. She was looking at me with that disturbingly hopeful expression again.
"Of course, ma'am," the servant said, bowing and finishing his turn so he could go about his task.
"How did…?" I started to ask, trying not to sound to desperate for the answer. I frowned at the queen and looked down at my plate instead.
"That's how I always drink it," she said, still sounding like she was overflowing with emotion. "With cinnamon."
"It's a coincidence," I said immediately, though she hadn't made any claim for me to refute.
"Emma, will you tell us about the world you grew up in?" the king asked politely, far more reserved than his wife, though his expression was also fond and familiar.
Why couldn't they act like strangers?
"I'd really rather not," I said, my voice a little shakier than I liked. "I'd rather hear more about why the hell you think I'm your daughter."
Liam shot me a scandalized, disapproving look, and a maid I'd overlooked in the corner actually gasped. But the king and queen didn't seem bothered by my tone or my stated preference. He just nodded while she mooned at me, her eyes wide and sad.
"Of course," the king said with a little nod. He kept his eyes on me, but his right hand moved to find his wife's fingers and he gave them a little squeeze. "Captain Jones was just filling me in on your observations about the curse."
I pursed my lips and looked at Killian. I hadn't known he'd filled his brother in on all the details of the conversation we'd had. I knew I probably shouldn't be surprised, but I felt a little stab of betrayal all the same. He gave me an apologetic look.
"Very few people know that time is frozen," the queen said gently. "That's not something we've made public."
"Why?" I asked immediately.
"We knew nothing would change until the Harbinger arrived," the king said. "We decided it would be more upsetting than helpful."
I frowned at that. I didn't like the idea of the monarchs deciding what the people were allowed to know, but I could imagine how upsetting it might be to find out your life was on hold until some mythical savior showed up to change things.
Wait. Why could I imagine that? It was ridiculous.
"How did you get to our world?" the queen asked, looking at me intently. "I thought we'd sent you to a place without magic."
I thought about how I'd fallen through the screaming stones. I thought about Neal.
"You're changing the subject again," I said in annoyance. "Why do you think I'm your daughter?"
The monarchs exchanged a look, and the footman returned, granting them a moment's reprieve from my inquisition. The servant set a steaming mug in front of me. I managed to murmur my thanks, remembering my manners. Another footman came forward with a tray of food. I shoved a few things onto my plate, eager to get back to the conversation.
The king and queen waited until Killian and I both had food and drink before they spoke again.
"My step-mother, Regina, could never forgive me—" the queen started.
"For being the fairest of them all, yeah, I've seen the movie," I said, rolling my eyes. "I don't need that part recapped. Jump to the curse-thingy."
Everyone at the table looked at me in confusion.
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose for a moment.
"I'm sorry," I said in a huff. "Please continue."
The queen took a deep breath.
"On our wedding day," she said, glancing at the king, "Regina arrived uninvited and threatened us. We consulted with the fairies and everyone else else we could find to see what we could do. We discovered there was no way to stop Regina from casting her curse, but every curse can be lifted. We discovered that our child would be able to break the curse."
"But if the curse kept us ever frozen, the child would never grow up," Killian said slowly, his brow furrowed.
The queen nodded sadly.
"Yes," the king said. "So we had to make sure our child would not be affected by the curse. We found a woodcarver to make a magic cabinet to send Snow and our unborn child to a land without magic—"
"A magic cabinet?" I repeated skeptically, pinching the bridge of my nose again.
"Yes," the queen said. "We were devastated to learn it could only send one person through, but we knew that it was our best chance."
"The cabinet was finished, and then Snow went into labor," the king said. "The castle was under attack. You were born as the curse was washing over the land. We didn't have any choice. I placed you in the cabinet, wrapped in the blanket your mother had made for you—"
"Blanket?" I asked, feeling a finger of ice trail run down my spine.
"With purple bows," the queen said in her shaky, emotional voice. "And your name embroidered in one corner."
I felt my mouth fall open as I pictured the blanket. It was folded in a box in my closet.
"That's what I was found in," I said, though I didn't want to tell them. "I was lying in the grass on the side of a road, wrapped in a blanket."
"Oh, Emma," the queen said. "I'm so sorry."
"You sent an infant through a freaking magic cabinet and you're sorry?" I said incredulously. I slammed my hand down on the table, making the nearby dishes jump and rattle. "Do you have any idea what I went through?"
Tears appeared in the queen's eyes. Killian tried to take my hand, but I shrugged him off.
"I was supposed to be there with you," the queen said. "We were supposed to go together."
"Yeah, well that didn't happen," I snapped in irritation. "I was alone for twenty-eight years."
I felt guilty as soon as I said the words. They weren't entirely true. I'd had friends and the occasional good foster family. And Neal. Ten years with Neal. More or less. But I'd been an orphan.
"I'm so sorry," the queen repeated. Her cheeks were wet.
"We wanted to keep you," the king said, "but you would have been frozen as an infant. The curse could never be broken like that."
I shook my head. I didn't want to hear it. What the hell was I supposed to do to break the curse anyway?
"Well, I'm here," I said crossing my arms over my chest. "Why isn't it broken yet? Or is it?"
The queen inhaled a deep breath. She looked at her husband.
And then I realized I'd accepted their story.
My shoulders tightened as I thought about it. I tried to curse myself for being an idiot. I'd told them the night before, I wasn't some lost princess. I wasn't from a story world.
But the blanket.
Coincidence.
Add up enough coincidences and it starts to look like evidence.
"I don't think it is yet," the queen said.
"The Blue Fairy should be here today, and then we'll know more," the king said.
I exhaled, feeling overwhelmed, and the room was quiet for a moment.
"I assume you'll want the marriage annulled," Liam said in a conversational tone. He set his spoon down next to his bowl. "The princess can hardly be married to a common sailor."
I saw Killian's mouth open in my peripheral vision, but he didn't say anything as I glared at his brother.
"Too late for annulment," I spat at Liam. "You made sure of that. Remember?"
The captain flinched, and I saw the king frown.
"Emma, were you coerced into marriage?" the king asked in a gentle, concerned tone of voice.
I let out a huff of breath.
"She was," Killian said from his place beside me.
I looked at him in shock.
"Killian—" I started to say, but he merely pursed his lips for a half second and then continued speaking to the monarchs.
"She was given a choice, I suppose, but it wasn't much of one," he said evenly. "She was offered a marriage to me or she would be turned over to the Dark One."
The queen gasped.
"I was offered a choice," I said firmly to Killian, reiterating what I saw as the important part of the situation. "I made my choice."
He pressed his lips together and studied me.
"You no longer require my protection," he said softly.
"Are you rejecting me?" I asked him, lifting my chin. I could feel a familiar dull ache settling in my chest. I'd been rejected so many times. After my time in prison, I'd thought I was strong enough for it not to bother me anymore, but after Neal came back, I'd let some of my walls down. And now I could feel all my old insecurities stirring in anticipation of yet another rejection.
"No! Gods, no, lass. I never wish to be parted from you. But I know you have—" Killian said emphatically. He cut himself off. "I know you have reason enough to call our union off. And I'll not fight it, if it's what you want."
Neal.
I inhaled a shaky breath.
"What reason?" Liam asked.
"I'm sure it's none of our business," the queen said in reprimand.
I appreciated her defense, but I thought my secret might be pertinent to the conversation, despite how painful it was to admit.
"I'm already married," I whispered.
Silence fell again. There was a clock somewhere in the room. I could hear it ticking.
"You said you were a widow," Liam said in mild confusion.
"You said I was a widow," I corrected him. "I just didn't refute the claim."
Liam shook his head for a moment.
"Then the marriage is void," he finally said said, though he looked displeased. He glanced at Killian. "Did you know this, little brother?"
"Aye," Killian said in a raw tone. "I knew."
"But if she's already married," Liam said, his brow furrowing. He shook his head again and looked at me. "Why would you consent to marry Killian? Why not return to your husband?"
I frowned at the man. I didn't want to explain. I didn't want to talk about Neal.
"He's in the land without magic," the queen said quietly, her tone more sure than speculative.
I watched Liam turn to look at the queen in surprise. I reluctantly turned and looked at her, too. She was looking at me. It looked like she wanted confirmation. I nodded.
"Married," the king said in a wistful tone. He was also looking at me with something close to heartbreak in his eyes. "Are we—Do you have children…?"
I shook my head. I didn't want to talk about that, either.
"No," I said, my voice rough. I cleared my throat. "Neal and I don't have kids."
"Neal," the queen repeated. She sounded like the name was a revelation. I guess it was. "Emma…"
"Can we just move on?" I asked in a strained tone of voice. "Get to the whole 'Harbinger of Resolution' thing so I can figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do? Isn't there a war or something?"
The king nodded, but the queen continued to stare at me with those sad, moony eyes.
"We're still waiting for the Blue Fairy," the king said.
I inhaled and let the breath out as a frustrated huff. How had this become my life? I picked up my mug of cocoa, mildly (but pleasantly) surprised to find it still hot. I took a sip. It was good, but it reminded me of home. I set the mug down, the cinnamon going bitter in my mouth.
"Then I think I'm just going back to the room until the fairy gets here," I said, looking down at my uneaten breakfast as I stood up.
Killian and the king rose a half-second after I stood, being chivalrous or something.
"Shall I come with you, love?" Killian asked in a hesitant, hopeful tone.
"Finish your breakfast," I said, trying to not sound as frustrated and angry as I felt. "Just give me a few minutes."
Killian nodded, his expression concerned but supportive.
"Whatever you need, Emma," he murmured with sincerity.
I nodded and exhaled a loud breath. I could feel the tightness in my shoulders. I needed to hit something.
As I headed toward the exit, I thought once more about dragging Killian back to bed. I almost turned around, but the butler stepped next to me as I was going to.
"Jeez!" I exclaimed. "I don't need an escort. I can find my own way back. I've lived in New York, for crying out loud!"
The butler looked startled at my outburst, but he stepped back in deference. I shot him a look of warning anyway and stormed past him.
Once I was in the hall, I forced myself to take a few centering breaths. Then I walked slowly back to the 'blue room,' taking the time to examine a few of the art objects along the way. It was a nice distraction, though as my irritation started to dissipate, my hunger returned. I should have eaten something or drank more than a sip of cocoa.
I paced the room for a while. Being alone wasn't the balm I'd hoped it would be. Without a distraction, I was just working myself up again. I threw one of my shoes across the room in irritation.
When the door opened, I was ready to jump down the throat of whoever had decided to interrupt me.
When I saw Killian's wide blue eyes and the tray he was balancing on one hand, my chest felt tight. He looked at me with obvious concern and quickly set aside the tray and closed the door behind him.
"Emma, are you al—" he started to say, but I crossed the room and cut him off with a kiss.
Then I dragged him back to the bed like I should have done earlier that morning.