"You know what I'll miss in this land?" Snow asked out of the blue, popping a popcorn in her mouth with a giggle. Emma, David and Henry turned to her, their attention withdrawn from the action-packed Bruce Willis movie. Emma had it coming, though. She knew the timid schoolteacher in her wouldn't sit through this movie, no matter how just as badass is Snow White as the hero in the film. "Halloween!"—she beamed, shifting in her spot on the couch.
Emma made a small grunt, and diverted her attention to the movie again.
"It's just that…" Snow started, "When we were cursed, I helped with Halloween stuff at school. Halloween's such a big thing for kids, right Henry?" she turned to her grandson, who was becoming just as interested as her. "Oh, I better start stacking up on candies!"
Emma chuckled; there's no way those candies will reach the trick-or-treaters. She and Henry might just gobble them all.
David smiled, adoring the spark in his wife's eyes.
What he'd pay to keep it there. "Now that you mentioned it, I think Ruby is planning some kind of a party on the 30th. Maybe we can pitch in, then?"
"Oh, no." Emma protested as a frown formed in her lips, and set her bowl on the center table. "Hell, no. I don't do parties—Hallow parties are the weirdest."
"Come on, mom." Henry gave her a glance, "It's going to be fun. You and I can dress as zombies like on television." He scooted closer to Emma, eyes pleading for affirmation. Emma almost dismissed her son's request, but not until she looked up, and saw the same expression written on her mother's face. Adorable is a thing in this family, but Emma was certain it skipped a generation.
Just as optimism and mushy did.
"Fine." She dropped, "Let's do this Halloween thing once and for all."
Emma woke up to the sound of shuffling in the living room. Just how long did her nap last?
Snow had gone to Ruby's to plan the details of their Halloween party. If it wasn't for the joy it brought to her mother's eyes, she would have attested to the whole idea. She promised her folks she'd take care of dinner—uh oh. Uh oh, it was five minutes past eight. Emma didn't know how exhausted she had been, but a break-in at Gold's house and a kitten who managed to climb on the farthest branch of an apple tree, and whose owner she couldn't resist really got the best of her.
Emma got on her feet and went downstairs, where a bowl of crab and corn soup sat waiting for her. She looked around, surprised to see a heap of old age clothing scattered on the living area. "What's all this?" she asked groggily.
Snow looked up, a smile crawling on her face at the sight of Emma. "Hey you. Why don't you eat your dinner first? David and Henry will be out for some time. Your father's helping him with his costume."
She smiled, a picture of her dad with Henry painting in her mind. Henry's much loved, and it will stay that way for as long as any of the three of them lived. But she still had one tiny mishap to address.
"About Dinner," Emma put on an apologetic half-smile, hoping she got bits of the irresistible gene. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to conjure something. I really lost track of time."
"It's alright. Henry helped me out with the cooking and the cleaning."—she shrugged, and shooed Emma so she'd start paying attention to her food.
It didn't take long for Emma to finish the contents of her bowl, licking the spoon to the last drop of the creamy chowder. She gave her mother a quick glance—what is she doing now? Snow sat on the floor, going through the contents of a large carton box and piled them on her bed, one puffy dress after another. Her interest piqued, she placed the dishes on the sink and went over to Snow.
"What will you be this year? Frankenstein's wife?" Emma asked, running a finger on a white, feathery gown's fabric. Then she remembered the real Frankenstein's relationship to Whale, and how cursed Storybrooke Mary Margaret and Whale had a thing. "Okay, maybe not. Considering…"
"Emma!" Snow hissed, holding a grunt.
Emma shook her head then crouched down next to the clothes. The attention to detail was astounding, even for someone who didn't care much about the intricate details on things like Emma. She held it up to her torso; Emma knew she'd seen this thing before.
A fashion show? Not possible.
On TV? Maybe.
Henry's Book? That's where!
It hadn't occurred to Emma that Snow had been watching until she met her gaze.
"This is…"
"The dress I wore to your father and I's wedding." Snow beamed, smiling at the memory of that day—leaving out the wedding crasher who announced the curse on that joyous moment. "Mr. Gold had it all the time. He had everything in his storage. All these."
Emma laid it back on the mattress. "It's beautiful, Mary Margaret."—that sounded wrong. Awfully off. For some reason, she wasn't at ease with the name anymore. "…you're going as yourself, is that it?"
Snow stood, ignoring the hesitance in Emma's voice. "Yes. In fact, we will all dress up for our real selves—you know, how we dressed back in the Enchanted Forest. Ruby thought it'd be great to have a glimpse of what we lost…" she trailed off, her voice low. "…in other words, we're having a ball."
Emma's jaw dropped. Oh hell no. Heck no. Nah-uh!
"A ball? A ball, ball? Like royals ball?"
"Ah, I think so." Snow smiled from ear to ear, "And I'm wearing this one." She pulled out a lavender gown from the box. It was simple, puffy like a pastry, encrusted with gems on the bust. Emma had underestimated the life they had back there. She thought all they did was fight, but seeing all these, she realized they lived a colourful life, too. Wonderful. Might she add, a fairy tale life.
Snow spent the next three hours stitching torn hems and gluing gems on an all-red ball gown with intricate embroidery on the waistline. She lay one look on it and she knew who to lend it to, but the recipient has yet to come home from the grocery. Henry was worked up with his knight costume, and David couldn't seem to get over the fact that the clothes he wore to when he proposed to Snow survived the curse, let alone ended up in Gold's stash. That little imp.
"That is beautiful, Snow." David snuck behind her ear, his warm breath tickling the small hairs on the nape of her neck. "I don't remember that, though. You usually wore calm hues."
"Oh, I know." She agreed, holding up the gown before them. "I didn't get to where a lot of these."
"Such a shame." David teased, though there was always a hint of truth in his voice.
Snow sighed. They could go on and on, and on about all the things they didn't get to do—raising Emma on top of the list—but the years they lost weren't coming back, so she plastered a wide smile on her face. "Cheer up; you'll get to see your daughter on her first ball."
Gone was the boring town hall. At least for the night.
Over the past eighteen hours, Ruby—with the help of the loyal, hard-working dwarves and a certain adopted giant—transformed the building into a beautiful and grand ballroom. All of the four walls were covered in red curtains with golden frills, with elegant lights hanging on the corners, and a breath-taking chandelier—to which Gold willingly donated just to skip the event—draped on the center. A violin orchestra assembled on one side, and buffets of mouth-watering dishes, courtesy of Granny's, surrounded the whole area.
Regina, much to their appreciation, didn't wear the dark get-up she wore to Snow and Charming's wedding. Tonight, she was just Regina—with her baby blue gown and the soft curls of brown hair on her shoulders—and she was definitely one to warm up.
It was smaller than the ones they had back home, but it was definitely just as special—if not more.
The clock ticked 8:15, and the doors opened for the Royal Family.
Snow held back tears of joy and gratitude as she entered the hall, arm wrapped around her husband. Tonight, they were King and Queen. Oh, how she wished Emma was here for this. Though she kept on hoping her daughter would have the courage to step out of the apartment in her ball gown first.
"Wow, Gramps! I feel like a prince!" Henry beamed; and with his velvet cape, slacks and leather boots complimented him well.
The walked down the aisle the people made for them, leading to the make-shift thrones on the far-end of the room. Snow held a gasp to herself, "Ruby!"
"You deserve this, Snow. You both do." Ruby began, "We all do."
It's been a while since she wore heels. Okay, some of her boots had heels—so, she rephrased: It's been a long time since I wore girly heels. Party heels. Princess heels—as Henry teasingly called it. The yellow bug wasn't a good idea, but after saying no to carpooling with her parents, she didn't have much of a choice. Emma couldn't certainly have walked, either. But she made it to the town hall, and contemplated about her sheriff badge.
Hmm, maybe not tonight.
With a bit of struggling—and an almost all-fours-splat on the concrete—she made it out of the small vehicle, dress and hairdo—thanks to Snow White, mother of all hairstyles of this kind—unharmed.
"Okay." She exhaled. How hard can it be? It's just a party.
She walked to the double doors; she heard the loud music from there. There were chanting, and singing, and thumping of feet. For all she knew, they could be performing some kind of ritual in there, and she won't have the slightest idea. Emma looked down on herself, an unnecessary thing to do, considering she had checked on her reflection too many times before even leaving for this ball.
With her red ball dress that came straight out of a fairy tale movie, hair braided into an intricate crown around her head, and fiery lips, it was no doubt Henry was right. Emma looked like a princess. For the first time in her life, she forgot about the little girl in the group home. At the same time, the reality of being Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter dawned on her like a big, fat truth that it is.
"Emma!"
She turned, meeting her gaze with Geppetto, running uphill with what looked like a pole in his hand to meet her. He walked just fine, what did he need a pole for?
"Hey, what are you doing out here?" Emma asked.
"First of all, you look beautiful, my dear." He complimented with a humble voice followed by a courteous bow. "It's no wonder, considering your gene pool. Second, I've dedicated my services to being tonight's guard. It's the least I can do…"
"Oh, please." Emma stopped him, guilt written all over his face. "Come on, this isn't the Enchanted Forest. Ogres aren't coming to get us. Get inside! Do they know you're here?"
Geppetto shook his head with a small smile forming in his lips. After a stare-down contest with Emma, he finally gave in. "But by all means, Princess Emma. Let me open the doors for you."
Emma swallowed at the nickname, surprised at herself for not flinching or feeling the urge to puke at that anymore. Coming from her immediate family, it always felt like an attempt to annoy her, although she knew that wasn't the intent. But coming from a person outside of their dysfunctional circle? It was a different story. So she didn't argue.
Geppetto pushed open the big doors, and the scene that unfolded before Emma's eyes caught her off-guard. So this is what royals do on their free time. The older man stood beside her, clearing his throat before he clicked the floor with his pole.
Oh, I've seen this on princess movies before. They do this to announce the arrival of guest-of-honours and the like. Wait, me?
Emma thought life had left her when all eyes turned to her direction, followed by gasps and smiles and too much warmth she could ever handle. They looked at her in a way she had never been looked before—like she was the most popular girl in school awaiting the Prom Queen crown.
In a matter of seconds, the crowd parted, leaving a long aisle for Emma to walk on.
"This really happens?" Emma asked in awe.
Geppetto nodded as Archie took his place beside Emma. "Announcing: Princess Emma Ruth Swan."
"Archie!" she held the urge to nudge Archie on the rib. For some reason, all this felt like a sick joke. "What are you…"
"It's a thing we do. Especially to Royalties." Archie replied, and when he earned a glare from Emma, he smiled. "Royal Duties, Emma. Or might I say, Princess Emma?"
"I think I know someone whose ass needs to be kicked." Emma mumbled, trying to keep the whole stop-babying-me-and-treating-me-like-a-kid front, but deep inside, joy was certainly winning her over. She looked back to the wide aisle, spotting her parents and son on the end of it, seated in thrones. Emma didn't fail to miss the empty throne chair waiting just for her.
She started walking, and just as she did, the crowd starting paying their courtesy to their princess.
Emma could only smile and hope she won't trip and fall short on their expectations.
By the time his daughter had reached the end of her entrance, he was already in tears. David could only trust Emma's interest in Henry twirling for her to buy him time to wipe his face. He squeezed Snow's hand, and he knew she felt the same. He couldn't help but fall head over heels in love with Emma. She had no idea she had him wrapped around his fingers.
He'd certainly give the whole world for his little girl. But of course, she wasn't so little anymore. And it pained him when he realize this could have been her hundredth ball and not her first, if it wasn't for…well. Enough of that.
"Go on," Snow whispered to his ear as Emma diverted her gaze on them. "I know you've been waiting for this long before our daughter was even conceived." He met his wife's gaze, and marvelled at how similar she and Emma were.
Someday, I'll dance with our daughter. Or teach our son how to win a girl through dancing. His own words echoed in his mind. It was a wonder how Snow remembered little things like those.
He left his place at his throne, and walked towards Emma, whose eyes were just as teary as his. "That whole entrance thing was their idea. And the thrones, too."
Emma chuckled. "Well, as long as we know Regina's not here for a place in those."
"She's here with good tidings." David replied, "We're all off to a fresh start, aren't we?"
The crowd reassembled into the dance floor as the orchestra played their best tune. It was his cue. With a curtsy and a slight bow, he reached out his hand to Emma. "Can I have this dance?"
Emma's smile grew wider. She placed a hand on top of her father's, squeezing tight for much needed support. The whole thing was not only overwhelming, it was bound to be nerve-wrecking. But David squeezed back, and held her close when they were on the center of the room, a hand firmly but gently on her back. Snow was right. He had been waiting so long for this. Too long, perhaps.
"Hey Dav…" she paused, "Dad?"
David's heart skipped a beat, he could only answer with a soft whimper.
"Thank you."
You never have to thank me for anything.