The blonde had been stuck under her mother's watchful eye for the majority of the day. Snow had insisted that her daughter have a custom made wedding dress for her and Neal's wedding, which was scheduled for that weekend.

Throughout the entire day, the only think containing the blonde's raging fury, against her mother's persistent nagging about this detail and that, was the thought of Regina. Emma imagined the dress being tailored for hers and Regina's wedding, as oppose to hers and that barbarian's.

That would be the life, she mused to herself. She couldn't wait to be rid of this palace and the dresses that accompanied being a princess. Though she'd miss the her mother, the woman who would read her fairytales as a child, she's taught herself to know the difference between what is and what was…and that mother she'd had growing up, she concluded, was never going to come back.

She grunted to herself, which awarded her a scolding from her brunette mother. "Emma, princesses and soon to be queens do not make such foul noises. You are to make sweet sounds, elegant ones that are soothing to the ear," she sung in a sing-song voice. Emma rolled her eyes, showing complete disregard for her mother's comments.

Taking notice of her daughter's bothered demeanor, the queen called for a break and for them to resume in fifteen. Emma let out a deep sigh of relief, making quick work of removing the confining articles of clothing from her body, and storming out the door.

She slammed the door to her bedchambers behind her and plopped herself down on her bed. Muffling her sounds with a decorative pillow, she screamed into the object in frustration. After a short time, she heard a knock on her door. "Come in," she groaned, which was muffed by the object.

Taking it as a sign of confirmation, the door opened, revealing her betrothed, Neal. She glanced up from her sprawled out position then proceeded to chuck the pillow in his direction. "Go away," she demanded, though her voice wavered, making her sound pitiful.

"Not a chance, m'lady," he stated, making his way farther into the room. "Your father informed me that you'd be a challenge, one that I'd be happy to accept," he announced pridefully. The blonde snarled at him and let out a mirthless laugh.

"I am not a challenge to be won, good knight," she barked. "Anyways, I do not wish to marry you, for you are most certainly not worthy of me." Emma fixed the man with a harsh glare, daring him to speak again. She could sense him slightly retreating from his previously prideful stance and she smiled victoriously to herself. "That's what I thought." Turning away from the man, she ordered him to leave, to which he complied dutifully. Emma really did not wish to marry that buffoon. She'd rather marry a dog.

Later that night, she was still in her room, this time packing for her permanent escape from the dreadful palace. Emma was finishing the last bit of tying her bed linens together to create a rope to propel herself down the castle walls when her father bolted into the room.

"I just ran into Sir Neal," Charming howled, having heard of how his daughter had spoken to her future husband. "You're lucky he's not canceling th-" His eyes caught onto what the blonde was in the midst of doing and his expression flashed from rage to sadness to something that Emma could not pinpoint. "You're planning on running away," he questioned, though it came out more like a conclusion. Due to the blonde's blanched stare at being caught, all that she could manage was to nod.

Her father let out a deep sigh, making his way over to the blonde and sitting on the bed. She mimicked his actions hesitantly and waited for him to continue speaking.

"I'm not blind, Emma," he continued. The blonde furrowed her brows in confusion and prompted him to continue. "I could tell from the day when we told you about the engagement that something changed with you." 'What is going on? What is he talking about? Did he find out about Regina? Oh no!'

"Look, father, I didn't mean to-" Emma began to apologize, only to be cut off by the king's hand in the air, halting her actions.

"I know love when I see it and I know it is not Neal you're doting after,' he reasoned calmly. This time, it was Emma's turn to fume. 'Wait, so he knew I lo-I mean-liked someone and he still forced me into being with Neal?'

"So, you knew all this time and you didn't say anything," she accused, standing abruptly from her seat. At her father's nod, she began to pace the room, trying to sort through her raging emotions. "I can't believe this," she exclaimed throwing her hands in the air. "You're supposed to be my father, to support me!"

"I know and that's why I have this," he interrupted, holding out a vial of blue liquid towards the girl. Eyeing the bottle carefully, Emma questioned, "What the hell is that?"

"Language," he chided, resulting in an eye roll from his daughter. "It's a potion, given to us by Rumpelstiltskin. He said it would get rid of those feelings you have and open a space for you to love Neal," he told her as if it were a cure to solve everything. Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Slapping the vial from his outstretched hand, causing it to nearly shatter on the ground, she screams, "I can't believe you! You wish for me to get rid of love in exchange for power and greed! What kind of a person are you?!" She was livid.

Not liking the harsh tone she was taking with him, the king rose to his feet and pointed a scolding finger at his daughter. "Now listen here, daughter. If you choose not to drink this potion, I will have my guards drag your little mermaid friend from the water and turn her into your wedding meal," he threatened. Emma's face turned deep red from his mention of harming Regina, flames dancing in her hazel eyes.

"However, if you do choose to drink the potion and marry Neal, your friend will go unharmed," the king finished. He hated that things had to come to this, but he couldn't have his daughter make him the laughing stock of the lands by marrying calamari. Emma wanted to ring the man's neck, not recognizing the father she had once had and wondered to herself what had changed.

He told his daughter to make a choice before his, already thin, patience runs out. Emma growled at the man, snatching the potion from his hand, and made her way towards her window. The blonde glanced out at the ocean, the waves crashing against the sand. A single tear trailed down her cheek as more threatened to escape her eyes.

Drawing her attention back to the vial, she removed its corked lid, leaned her head back, and downed the thick liquid in one, giant gulp.