A/N -

1) I am a terrible person who clearly is unable to update in a timely fashion. All I can say for myself is that a) I promise to keep writing this and b) I am sorry for slowness of updates.

2) THANK YOU as always to beta textbookone. Also, thank you Astrawoid for giving this a read-through for me and your input! Much appreciated! :)

3) I don't mind anon reviews (I appreciate ALL reviews, thank you!) or criticisms but unfortunately I have no way to answer them... so to the anon who asked about Emma's siblings (or lack thereof) - I'd be happy to explain my reasoning there but you'll need to shoot me a PM, since I started writing out my answer and it would rival the length of the chapter, ha ha!

THANKS as always for everyone's kind words - I hope you enjoy this one!

The next morning, Bae lay staring at the ceiling, studying its unfamiliar pattern as the impending events of the day ran through his mind. He glanced from his cot to the large bed where his father slept, snoring softly as if he hadn't a care in the world. Bae sighed, rolling to his side and readjusting his blankets as he considered the heartache his father's manipulations were causing for yet another family. He made a mental vow to apologize to this Emma as soon as he could - likely once they arrived back at his father's castle. He could only imagine how angry and frightened she must be - she had no reason to trust that he'd respect her space and autonomy, leaving her to live her life as she wished despite the legal bond his father insisted on putting them under. Leveraging her parents' lives as he'd done would undoubtedly cause the girl to agree to untold horrors, and once again Bae felt the crushing guilt that rose from the myriad of actions his father had taken in his name. Dreading the union though he might, he stood firm in the mindset that he could not and would not be responsible for permanently destroying this family. At least with Emma as his bride, her parents would still have the opportunity to receive visits from her and enjoy their daughter's company - something they could not do if they were dead.

Across the castle, Emma tossed and turned, similar thoughts swirling through her mind. She'd fallen into a hard sleep shortly after dinner, but that welcome release had been short-lived. Her dreamless slumber had given way to nightmares, each time losing her parents in a different and newly terrifying way, and by shortly after midnight she'd given up the pretense that she'd get any rest at all. Seeing morning's first light peeking through the drapes, she tossed back the covers in frustration and climbed out of bed, heading for her closet to begin the arduous task of packing the trunk she'd been instructed to have ready. As she moved across the room, Emma caught a glance at herself in the mirror and couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh; while she'd certainly never had a wedding day before, she was quite certain this was not the look of a typical bride-to-be. Somewhere between the dark circles under her eyes and look of dread plastered across her face, the sight almost made her smile in its irony. The feeling was short-lived, though, with her stomach resuming its angry churning before long while she prepared to face the day.

As the sun continued its climb into the sky, the occupants of a castle on the other side of the kingdom began stirring as well. Their slumber had been far more productive than that of the young couple, having lasted since the princess' birth eighteen years earlier. "Come now, wake up," one said to the other, using a toe to prod the sagging mattress on which he slept. "The time has come, and we must formulate a plan."

There was a quiet tap on Emma's door before it was pushed open a crack and her mother's voice streamed in. "Emma? I brought you some breakfast," she said, stepping in and sliding the door closed behind her.

Snow surveyed the room; at the foot of her daughter's bed sat the massive trunk that had been brought in the previous evening, a few odds and ends tossed into the bottom of it. Several pairs of trousers lay folded across the propped up lid and a dozen dresses lay strewn across the four-poster bed. She could hear the daughter in question inside of her dressing room, mumbling to herself as she sorted through the garments inside. It was clear from the chaos that Emma was at a loss as to how to pack for a journey of this magnitude. Snow heaved a sigh, realizing she'd likely been working at it for hours and wishing she'd thought to come in to assist much earlier.

She set the breakfast tray on the bedside table and called her daughter's name again, sticking her head into the closet as she did so. Emma jumped, looking up at her mother sheepishly as she held up two nearly identical shawls, clearly in debate over which to take with her. "Oh, hi Mama," she said, her anger of the previous day appearing to have simmered down. "I was just trying to get my things ready."

"I see," Snow replied, actively biting back a smile at the tornadic conditions of her daughter's room. "Perhaps I could assist you?"

"I'd appreciate it," Emma said, blushing with embarrassment at the mess she'd made. "I'm not sure what exactly I should be taking, what I should leave behind, how much the trunk will hold..."

"Relax," her mother replied. "You'll start by eating the breakfast I brought you, then we'll talk it through together." She held her hands out in front of her and Emma nodded, depositing the shawls into them as she walked past her mother and into the bedroom.

"It's just so much, Mama," she said, her overwhelming emotions seeping through as she perched on the edge of her bed and pulled the tray towards her, absentmindedly picking apart the edges of the toast that lay on it. "I don't even know where to begin."

Snow followed, setting the shawls down on a pile of discarded garments as she walked past. "You begin at the beginning, just as you do for any journey we take."

"But the beginning always starts with, 'How long will we be gone for?' And I don't know what to do when the answer is 'forever," she said, the corners of her mouth turning down against her will as she fought back a fresh round of tears.

"Oh, Emma," came the reply, and her mother crossed the room in three quick strides. "It isn't so bad as all that. You'll be back to visit us regularly, I know you will."

"It's not the same," she protested, "This isn't just some small visit. This is me, leaving my home, going to live with a boy I've just met. How do I do that, Mama? How do I pack up everything, my entire life, in a single trunk?"

"You just do," she said, wrapping her arms around her daughter and rubbing soothing circles on her back. "You take what we think you'll need for now, and you can get the rest next time you're here. It'll be all right, Emma," she reassured her.

"That's easy for you to say," Emma said, lifting her head up and sniffling. "You're not the one being sent off with the Dark One."

"No," she replied, "But I've faced uncertain spots in life before. You just do the best you can and keep pressing forward."

"Keep pressing forward?! Mama, surely you must speak in jest. In a matter of hours, my life as I knew it - every hope and dream that stretched before me just yesterday - will be over. I have to stand up in front of the royal court and vow to love this boy for all eternity. How am I to do that when I've barely said two words to him?"

"You'll make it work, Emma. Your father and I have arranged to have a small, private ceremony so that there will be fewer eyes on the two of you. I have faith that you can hold your temper long enough to get through it."

She shook her head. "It's not the ceremony I'm worried about, Mama. It's the life that follows after that."

"He won't be a stranger forever, Emma."

"Is that supposed to make it better?" she asked doubtfully.

"Perhaps it will, Emma, in time... perhaps as you get to know him you'll find common ground, something to bond over."

Emma closed her eyes and sighed, growing weary of her mother's blind optimism. "Or perhaps I'll find that he and I have completely different ideals, and we'll be miserable into perpetuity." She could feel her frustrations rising to the surface again, and decided that perhaps it would be better to dismiss her mother than to begin snapping at her. "Thank you for the breakfast, Mama. I think I can finish the packing on my own."

"Nonsense, Emma! I'll be happy to help," Snow said, standing and heading again for the closet.

"Please... I think it's best you go," Emma replied, her tone stopping her mother in her tracks as her patience grew thin. "I think I'd like a few minutes of solitude."

"If that's truly what you wish," Snow replied, unconvinced but willing to bow to her daughter's wishes.

"Please," Emma replied, confirming her wishes with a nod, and so Snow returned to her and pressed a kiss onto the crown of her head. She stepped back, sending her a weak smile before turning to exit, and Emma willed herself not to dissolve into tears once the door had shut behind her mother. Instead, she took a deep breath before sliding down off of the bed and returning to the puzzle that was her closet, where she began tugging her favorite garments off of their hangers in earnest. Best to get the packing out of the way and ensure that the trunk was ready - as had been demanded - rather than risking the wrath of Rumplestiltskin.

Some time later, Prince Charming knocked on Emma's door and opened it without waiting for a response. He found her seated on the closed trunk that now held the most important of her possessions, clutching the ivory blanket she'd toted around since infancy and staring blankly into the corner of the room. The dried tear tracks on her face only told half the story, but as she turned to face him, the hurt and accusations in her eyes completed it. "Emma," he addressed her, "I know you think no one understands what you're going through. But I do."

She stared back at him wordlessly, a single blink her only acknowledgement of his words as her expression communicated disbelief. "I was once in a similar spot myself," he continued. "Before I knew your mother. I'd been betrothed against my will, under the same threat - to marry or to watch my mother die, our farm burned. You've heard me speak of her - your grandmother Ruth - who gave her life so that your mother and I would have the opportunity at a life together. Sometimes I think we should have named you after her, for she was as kind and selfless a woman as I've ever known. All she wanted was my happiness, even at the expense of her own life, and I could not repay that by allowing her to be killed."

Emma could feel her defenses melting and fought to keep them up, reminding herself that this was yet another tale she'd been sheltered from her entire life. "Why have I never heard this story?"

"You have, in a way; it was Abigail I was with when your mother stopped my carriage."

In Emma's surprise, she forgot for a moment to be angry. "Abigail, James' mother Abigail?"

"One and the same," her father replied with a sigh. "I was masquerading as King George's son, James - another one of Rumplestiltskin's doings - when Midas declared that we should unite the kingdoms. It was when I hesitated that George threatened my mother. Abigail was... not the sweet woman you know now. She came across as haughty, unfeeling and unkind. It turns out that she was mourning the loss of Frederick, and it was not until we were able to get him back that I was able to see her for who she truly was."

Her eyes narrowed again. "Are you trying to get me to give this Baelfire a chance, saying he may not be as he appears?"

"I observed him at dinner last night, Emma, and he does not seem to be a beast. Perhaps in time, the two of you could come to an understanding, forge a friendship." He heard Emma snort, clearly finding the idea preposterous. "But you know, my darling daughter... it wasn't until yesterday that I fully understood what my mother felt all of those years ago. She was willing to be killed in order for me to be free to choose love. I'd like you to know I'd do the same. If you'd like to refuse this union, your mother and I will stand by you. We will call Rumplestiltskin's bluff, and if he takes our lives, so be it. Your mother and I made this deal with him to give you your best chance, and I still want you to have that chance."

Emma met his gaze finally, locking eyes with her father as she shook her head with determination before she spoke. "Certainly, then, you can understand why allowing that to happen is not an option for me. Daddy... I know you mean well but there is not a choice in this. I need you both, I'd be utterly lost without the two of you. I can't allow you to be killed so that I can search for a silly romantic notion, one that may not even exist. I've always known that an arranged marriage was a possibility, were we to find it in the best interests of the kingdom. I just wish I'd known that it was a certainty, that you and Mama had seen fit to tell me about this arrangement."

"Hindsight certainly makes things obvious, doesn't it? Knowing as we do now, we should have told you some time ago. We truly hoped it would not come to pass."

"As you keep saying," Emma said, bitterness creeping back into her voice. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and keep her anger in check. "Come now, they'll be waiting for us." She stood so that she could lift the lid of the trunk, stowing her blanket inside of it before reaching for her father's hand and allowing him to escort her to the hall where the wedding was to take place.

The wedding was far simpler than one would expect for the kingdom's sole heir, absent of finery, the traditional myriad of well-wishers or - frankly - much circumstance at all. It was, rather, precisely in line with what one would expect from a hastily arranged union, complete with an unenthusiastic bride and groom; the royal family's chaplain performed a simple ceremony, kept brief and attended only by the parents of the betrothed. The bride and groom managed to conduct themselves in a civilized fashion, undoubtedly assisted by Snow's foresight in convincing the chaplain that the groom's family traditionally concluded the ceremony by the joining of hands instead of sealing the union with a kiss. Her faith in her daughter's ability to hold her temper did have its limits, after all.

Shortly after the conclusion of the ceremony, Emma's trunk was loaded onto the top of the carriage and the reluctant newlyweds climbed inside. Emma took one look at Bae and promptly sat on the opposite bench of the carriage, as far as she could possibly get from him, chin raised and jaw set. He abstained from the snarky remark he was considering when he realized that what he had mistaken as snobbery was instead a valiant attempt not to cry. He began mulling over what sort of compassionate comment he might be able to make when his father appeared in the carriage, interrupting his train of thought.

"This won't do at all," his father addressed the duo. "Bae, move over by your bride."

"But Papa-" the boy began in protest, only to be cut off by his father.

"Shh! Do as I've asked. This is no way to start off a marriage."

Reluctantly he crossed the carriage, shooting a smile of apology at Emma. For her part, she merely lifted her chin a few centimeters higher as she slid herself over to the carriage's side wall, leaving as much space between them as she could possibly manage.

The ride to the dark castle was a miserable one for all three involved. Emma's refusal to meet anyone's gaze permitted her to maintain her tear-free appearance, but whether she realized that she was fooling no one, neither man could tell. Her father-in-law tried to start conversation a few times, but neither bride nor groom was willing to engage him, and his temper was beginning to flare. Bae's refusal to speak was fortified by his gaze being firmly rooted to the floor.

As they approached the castle, the young duo was surprised to feel the carriage stop a half-mile shy of their destination. Their surprise only grew as Rumplestiltskin addressed them. "Well, it appears we have arrived. Bae, you'll find your things already arranged inside, and Emma, dearie, your trunk is just inside the door."

"How did you-" she began to ask, uttering her first words since leaving her parents, but she was cut off before she could complete her question.

"Magic," he replied, with a flair of his fingers.

"Where are we?" Bae chimed in.

"Your cottage, of course. Why, you didn't think it would be fitting for a pair of newlyweds to be living under the same roof as me, did you? You'll find I'm a short walk up the hill should you need anything."

"You're leaving us here... alone... together." Emma asked, incredulous. "What if he were to take advantage of me?"

"Well, you are married, dearie. But never fear, Bae was raised to be a gentleman."

"And yet he's presented himself as anything but," she replied, her attitude returning.

"Well at least we're well-paired, since you act little like a lady yourself," he retorted.

"Enough! This is your new home. Consider it a wedding present, and get out."

"You'll forgive me if I forget to send a thank you note," Emma said with a snarl as she slammed the door of the carriage open and jumped out onto the ground. She stalked to the cottage door before turning around and firing another question in the general direction of the carriage, where Bae was disembarking. "What are we to eat, if we're to be held as prisoners here?"

"The kitchen will be kept fully stocked, but you'll be responsible for figuring out the preparation yourself." With that, the door slammed shut and the carriage resumed moving along the road towards the castle, leaving the beleaguered duo standing together by the roadside, shellshocked.

"I suppose we may as well go in," Bae stated, and Emma was so beside herself that she could not even come up with a retort.

Inside the cottage they found their belongings, just as Rumplestiltskin had promised. It was a simple dwelling, particularly in comparison to the castles each was used to, but not uncomfortable. In the back corner was a small kitchen area, featuring a solid wood table for seating as well as an ice box that Bae told Emma his father had undoubtedly enchanted to stay perpetually cold. The living space, forward of that, had an upholstered settee and a few high-backed chairs. A door led to a small bedroom with a mid-sized bed, big enough for two... if the two were quite fond of each other.

Poking her head into the bedroom, Emma's eyes widened. "I hope you enjoy sleeping on the settee," she said haughtily, dismissing any notion that the two of them might fit that criteria.

"Yes, it's where I'd always dreamed of spending my wedding night," Bae snarked back.

"As well as all the nights after," she replied. "Unless you can convince your father to procure an additional bed."

He snorted. "Fairly certain that won't be happening. Don't you see what he's doing? His hope is that he will force us together, and I will be SO grateful for bringing me such happiness that I will forgive him his past wrongs."

"Unfortunately for the both of you, that will not be happening."

"You don't have to tell me twice," he replied. "Spoiled princesses are not my style."

"Spoiled!" she spat. "Well, I never!" She fumed for a minute as she worked to formulate a comeback. "At least I didn't have to have my father threaten someone's life to marry me off."

"Do you sincerely think I was behind this, princess? Believe me, this is all my father's doing. I didn't ask for it and I didn't want it any more than you did."

"A likely story! Oh, poor son of the dark one, being forced to marry a princess. Somehow I am hard-pressed to believe that, sir," she mocked him.

"Whether you believe it or not, I did not choose this any more than you did. Trust me, if I had I would have chosen a different bride." He sighed, the argument growing old. "Regardless of whether we want to be here, we are both stuck here, so we may as well get used to it and figure out how to co-exist."

"What do you mean, 'stuck here'?"

"Undoubtedly your instinct was right and my father has put up some sort of barrier spell, meaning that we are both effectively prisoners here."

Emma let out a frustrated growl and stomped her foot. "That man is insufferable! Where does he get off manipulating peoples' lives like this? What did your mother see in him, anyways?"

"Not much, I'm afraid."

"What?" she replied, stopping short at an answer she had not expected.

He gestured at the space around them. "You'll note she's not here."

"Oh." Emma quieted, bested for once. "My apologies."

He shrugged indifferently. "It's been a long time."

The two then lapsed into a silence that was at least not entirely uncomfortable, one that persisted throughout the evening with few interruptions as they padded around the cottage organizing their possessions. The silence was perhaps the best foot either had to put forward after the trials of the prior two days, passing as an attempt at civility - and for the moment, that was the most either could ask for.

Unbeknownst to the young couple, the duo in the castle across the kingdom had spent their day in much less silence, scheming and planning as they plotted ways to make their goals a reality. The effect that these two strangers would come to have on the lives of the young couple would be enormous - and if only the couple had known, they might have found it worth their time to put aside their differences to make some plans of their own.