Title: Happy Ending

Rating: T for language, might be bumped later for language and/or sexiness

Disclaimer: I have no rights to any persons real or imagined, no television shows, no books, basically nothing. You want to sue me the best thing I have is a bed, but try to take that and I'll cut a bitch, it's super comfy.

Summary: AU Remma, Regina/Emma, Swan Queen, whatever you want to call it. The Evil Queen will have her happy ending. And she will have her revenge.

Word Count: This chapter: 851; Total: 2006

Notes: I can't get the idea of Remma out of my head; you will all be subjected to more of it. And frequently.

I can't help the Thomas/Ella thing, Statement retracted: I'm not messing much with Rumpelstiltskin because that's a knot of plot I can't even begin to think about.

I figured some Rumpelstiltskin bits out.

James settled into his desk, intent on reading the reports he'd been given, when a disgruntled noise stopped him. He stopped because the noise emanated from under his desk. Craning his neck James looked into the space and was surprised to find Emma there. His daughter was on her stomach, perusing a book in the light provided by a fairy light bobbing around her head. "What are you doing down there?" he asked after a moment.

Without looking up from the book, Emma answered, "Hiding."

"And from whom are you hiding," he asked, more than a little amused.

"Tutor."

"And which one would that be?" James asked.

"Math, I hate it," Emma answered, breaking her pattern of single word answers but still not looking up from the pages of her book.

"I never cared for math either," her father confessed, musing that his seven year-old daughter had more schooling than he had. Of course, there was his life as a farmer to explain that. "And why, may I ask, did you hide under my desk? Why not the nursery?"

This caused the girl to look up at her father. The look on Emma's face was one of annoyance as she patiently explained, "Morgan is crying again."

James nodded sympathetically. For all that the newest addition to the Royal Family looked for all the world like a copy of her older sister, the Princess Morgan cried. All day, every day. Without fail. And for no more reason, at least as far as her parents and Doc could tell, than a simple desire to cry. "Alright, so you will be under there for some time then?"

"Yes please," Emma intoned, slipping effortlessly back into her reading.

With a nod and a smile, James turned back to his own reading. He was careful to mind his feet, lest a booted foot's movement cause another squeak of protest.

The two read in companionable silence for a time. It was Emma who broke the trance woven by words when she tapped on her father's knee. James pulled his legs back to allow Emma to crawl out from under the desk. "Daddy, what does this word say?"

Ever since she had learned to read Emma had asserted her independence; she'd told her parents they did not need to read her stories at night because she could do it on her own. Since reading tales kept the precocious princess out of trouble, neither Snow nor James objected overmuch. But this did have James curious as to what word had stumped his bright child. "Let me see that," he said, gesturing for the book.

When Emma scrambled onto his lap, James set the book on the desk in front of them. "That word, the sounds are funny and not working right," pouted the princess.

Looking where Emma pointed, it took James a moment to register what word he was looking at. But when that information fell into place it caused a flood of icy fear to rear up. Rumpelstiltskin.

"Where did you get this book?" James asked, flipping to the cover to find out what book his daughter had unwittingly stumbled upon. Once Upon A Time. A benign title for a subject that was anything but.

"In the library," Emma informed him, with a tone that questioned where else a book should be found.

James flipped through the book and found some relief in the colorful illustrations and well known tales. And his daughter was in the middle of one about Thomas and Ella. "Why are you reading this?" he asked, less afraid of some unknown magic and more from curiosity.

"I will find Alexandra's daddy. I always find people, like when I found Pinocchio. He was hiding in the wardrobe, but nobody else could find him. And I only get found when I want to." James doubted his daughter's first claim, he had been unable to find Thomas after nearly a decade of searching, but the second one he fully believed.

Idly flipping through the book, James stopped when his daughter uttered a small gasp. Looking at the page he'd turned to the prince frowned at the roughly drawn image: the Queen when she had interrupted his and Snow's wedding. "No need to be scared, Emma. It is just a picture. The Evil Queen will never harm you."

But Emma's gasp had not been one of fear, but of shock. She would know that silhouetted, even roughly drawn as it was, anywhere. That was her friend, her secret friend, Regina. But why had her father called her friend evil? The thought bounced around in Emma's head until her father flipped back to Alexandra's daddy's story. "Daddy, can I take the book with me to show Alexandra?"

Her father agreed, though he reminded her to be careful with the book. And Emma was always careful with books. But when the time came for the next visit to Alexandra, the book was the first thing to be carefully packed in Emma's baggage. She would show her playmate, but that would not be the only person she showed the book to.