Sorry for the long waits between chapters, guys. I'm doing my best! Despite that, I hope someone is still reading (and enjoying.) Let me know! :)

-DSB

"Papa, NO!"

Emma's eyes popped open, a vague notion in the back of her head that she'd been awoken by a shout. She lay still for a minute, listening for further commotion as she worked to still her breathing and slow her jumping heart - unfortunate side effects of having been startled awake. As her eyes adjusted to the murky blackness, shapes filtered into focus and she took bearing of her surroundings. Groaning internally, she recalled that she was no longer in the comfortable familiarity of her own room. Instead, she found herself waking in the too-small bed that lay in the cottage she'd been bequeathed after her sudden nuptials.

A strangled cry from the front room caused her to shoot up in bed. "Please, Papa! No!" she heard, in a voice she was surprised to find she easily identified as that of her new husband. She had no idea why he was hollering at his father in the middle of the night. Had it not interrupted her sleep, it's possible she wouldn't have cared. But the fact that he was hollering at all meant that his father had felt it was appropriate to pay them a visit in the middle of the night - and for that, he'd earned a piece of her mind. She tossed her legs over the side of the bed, anger rising by the moment as she shoved her arms into her dressing gown and contemplated her approach to the situation. Hastily tying the sash, she stalked through the bedroom door - only to stop short in surprise at what she found on the other side.

Dark. Silence. And no father-in-law. Only Baelfire, feet and ankles jutting awkwardly off the end of his makeshift bed. She stood still for a moment, doused in confusion as she tried to discern what had happened. Perhaps she'd dreamt it?

Her attention was drawn back into the room when she heard a whimper from the direction of the settee. As her eyes landed on the boy sleeping there, he cried out once more. "Papa! No, papa, please!"

Ah, a nightmare. That made ever so much more sense than a midnight visit, at least. Her anger and confusion evaporated as a sense of familiarity descended in their place - nightmares being a familiar foe. As far back as she could recall, her memories included her mother's cries piercing the darkness. Though they'd grown sparse as the years had passed, her father's steady reassurances remained always at the ready - a calm hand, soft voice, and lit candle his recipe for vanquishing the terror that crept into her mother's dreams.

She found herself moving towards the couch, instinct overriding logic as she crouched next to the wooden armrest that framed Baelfire's head. Though she lacked the emotional ties with him that bound her parents, she wasn't about to leave the boy fighting invisible demons on his own - particularly after what he'd shared about his father the prior night. Shuddering as she recalled the story, she found that she wasn't at all envious of whatever horrors he was reliving. Though he remained asleep, his slumber was restless, punctuated with periodic twitching and the occasional whimper. Taking a cue from her father, she reached out, gingerly placing a hand on the top of his head. Whispering, she continued in her attempt to comfort him. "Shh, shh. It's okay. You're okay."

It took several moments and a few more murmurs, but the reassurance seemed to work to pull him out of the nightmare - little by little his twitching stopped and his ragged breathing grew regular. She continued to crouch awkwardly for a few minutes longer, finally lifting her hand from his head when the protests from her legs grew too loud to ignore. Easing herself into a standing position, she kept her eyes glued to her charge as she watched for a relapse. When none presented itself, she started for the bedroom, satisfied that he had returned to peaceful slumber. On her way, she lit the candle that sat on the nearest end table, willing the bad dreams to be drawn in - as if they were insects being consumed by the flame.

As she tucked the duvet up to her chin, however, she found herself falling into thoughts instead of dreams. When Rumplestiltskin showed up to demand the marriage, she'd accused him of passing horrors along to his child. Somehow, though, she'd expected those horrors to present themselves as a son who had followed in his father's footsteps, terrorizing those around him. Apprentice to the master manipulator of the Enchanted Forest, perhaps. She'd never imagined that he, too, would have been a victim of the schemes and abuse that the Dark One seemed so fond of doling out. But it seemed his distaste for those who did not instantly fall in line with his whims was not precluded by blood ties, as falling victim to those schemes seemed to be precisely what had occurred to the boy. Emma was left wondering what else he'd experienced in a lifetime of having a monster for a father. Moreover, these mysteries were causing significant difficulty in stuffing Baelfire into the tidy boxes she'd expected to fit him into.

Lost in her thoughts, it wasn't long before Emma noticed the first glow of the morning's light beginning to percolate through the curtains. With a sigh, she gave up all aspirations of sleep, instead padding out once again into the common room. She began rummaging through the cupboards that lined the far corner, in search of something suitable for a morning meal. She'd noticed some bacon in the icebox, but cooking it was out of the question - unless she wanted it burnt to a crisp, taking the cottage down along with it. She'd have to find out if Baelfire's culinary skills were more refined than her own, but in the meantime, she'd located an orange, a croissant and some butter: a balanced breakfast without the risk of burning down the house.

She'd barely finished buttering the roll before she felt eyes upon her. She'd tried to keep her rummaging soft, but either she was noisier than she'd anticipated or Baelfire was a light sleeper. In any event, she looked up from her plate to find him squinting in her direction.

"Why're you up so early?" he slurred, clearly still partially wrapped in slumber.

She shrugged. Somehow, 'Your nightmare woke me, and then I was kept up imagining the evils your father has subjected you to' didn't seem quite the right thing to say. Instead, she settled on the simpler, "Couldn't sleep."

"All kinds of new noises sleeping in an unfamiliar place, I suppose."

"Something like that," she replied, suddenly self-conscious about their awkward middle-of-the-night encounter. She studied her pastry intently, as if concentrating on its preparation might save her from the strangeness of the situation. Hearing him rise from his sleeping spot, she tossed another glance his direction, watching as he shrugged an afghan around his shoulders and shuffled across the hardwood towards the icebox.

"There's bacon," he said. "You didn't want any?"

"Wanted the cottage to stay standing," Emma rebutted, mouth full of bread. She swallowed before continuing. "I'm a terrible cook. Burn everything I touch."

The admission made him chuckle. "I suppose princesses with waitstaff have little need." She shot a glare his direction, prepared to deliver a biting retort, but there was no malice in his tone. Besides, his point was accurate.

"Mm-mm," she replied with a shake of the head. "Do you fare any better?"

"Unfortunately not," he replied. "Limited experience. Perhaps we can sweet talk Clara into frying it for us later." Performing the same cabinet search Emma had, he came up with a couple of plums and a croissant of his own. As he joined her at the table, she slid the butter dish his direction and he gave a nod of thanksgiving.

"Plans today?" he asked, slicing the bread as he spoke.

"Since your father has deigned that we might leave the grounds, I thought I might go visit my parents. They're certain to be concerned about me."

"Sounds reasonable. Enjoy your visit," he replied, gaze fixed on his breakfast.

Biting her lip, Emma pressed forward with a hesitant question. "I do have just one problem that I was hoping you might be able to assist with."

This caught his attention, and he lowered his knife as he met her gaze. "What might that be?"

"Is there a horse I might be able to take?"

Bae chuckled, resuming his motions. "You'd have to ask my father about that."

This response caused her to scowl. "You can't just point me in the direction of the stables?"

"Not unless you want your travels waylaid by a magical reprimand." He kept his eyes trained on her as she hemmed and hawed, debating whether the discomfort of the request would be outweighed by the joy of seeing her family. "Listen, just walk up the hill and ask him. He'll bluster about pretty well but he won't bring you any harm. I'm sure he'll allow you a horse in the end."

She eyed him suspiciously. "What makes you so sure he'll do me no harm?"

"Bear in mind that his end goal is to win my affections, and harming you would not serve to endear me to him. I've no question he'll grant your request."

"I suppose," she replied grudgingly, placing her dishes in the sink - would they be magically cleaned, she wondered, or was dishwashing an expected duty of the household? - and retreating to the bedroom to dress.

Minutes later, she tugged on her boots over the sensible riding trousers Bae had been surprised to find she owned. He watched as she squared her shoulders before heading out the door, and barely bit back an amused smile - she looked to be preparing for battle already, yet his father's house was a solid fifteen minute walk away.

He was left watching as she departed without so much as a goodbye, contemplating his plans for the day - none - and wondering if his father yet regretted his choice of daughter in law.

Emma approached the doors of the dark castle as she had when arriving for dinner, but this time they remained closed. She raised her arm to rap on the oak in front of her, but before she could make contact, the door swung away to reveal Rumplestiltskin standing in her path.

"Oh, come in, come in - I do find this knocking business annoying," he said, sweeping his cloak around as he circled back towards the great hall.

Emma entered, bravado of a quarter-hour having dimmed despite the fact that she still held her chin high. "I've come to inquire about a horse."

"A horse?" he replied, turning back to face her, as if the question had taken him by surprise.

"Yes. I'd like to go visit my family and your son indicated that you might allow me to use a horse for my travels."

"I see." The two stared at each other for a long moment, leaving Emma to wonder what madness was running through the sorcerer's mind. Finally, as she was beginning to grow concerned that he might be preparing to turn her into a toad, Rumplestiltskin broke the stalemate when he spoke again.

"Very well. The stables are half a mile due north, you may take your pick. I assume you are capable of tacking up a horse?"

"Of course," Emma replied indignantly. Satisfied that she'd gotten what she came for, she turned away with no further ado. But as she stepped towards the door, she found Rumplestiltiskin standing in her path once again. Annoyance written all over his face, he addressed her again.

"You might show some gratitude."

She stumbled - surely he hadn't been standing there a moment earlier! - and attempted to cover her surprise by matching his look with one of her own. "Gratitude for allowing me to have a visit to the family you so callously ripped me away from?"

"Whether or not you visit your family is none of my concern, but as I am allowing you to utilize my property, a simple thank you would not be unreasonable." He paused, letting his point resonate for a moment. "Or did your parents believe that manners were beyond your royal status?"

She stared him down, holding his gaze a moment longer than necessary - in hopes of showing that she would not be so easy to frighten - before retorting. "My parents raised me to believe that I should show gratitude for a kindness. Therefore I shall pretend that this gesture is a kindness, and I will thank you for the loan of the horse."

He narrowed his eyes, likely debating whether continuing to engage his young ward was worthy of his time. Deciding that it was not, he dismissed her with a flourish of his hand, stepping out of her way as he gestured towards the opening door. "Very well then. Off you go!"

Emma gave a sharp nod and departed, conscious of keeping her head held high until she heard the door slam shut behind her. It was only when she was partway down the path towards the stables that she allowed herself to shudder. She refused to cower before her unfortunate father-in-law, but without his presence to motivate the facade, hiding her true feelings was a futile effort.

Snow penned the final words of the note, her inked quill setting fancy flourishes across the parchment. Folding the letter, she applied a seal and stood, gently waving the document so as to set the wax while she headed toward the door of her study.

In the hall she found her page, awaiting the errand she'd told him to expect. "Please take this to Sir Edward at the stables. Let him know it should be taken to the village magistrate at his earliest convenience." The page nodded and scampered for the door, pulling his shawl around him as he went.

The local village - Northpass by name, though few referred to it as such - flourished, largely due to its proximity to the castle where the kingdom's rulers lived. It was that proximity that led Snow and Charming to oversee many of the village's quarrels; they'd long strived to be accessible to their people and though it was impossible for them to rule so closely in all corners of the kingdom, they tried to set examples that their noblemen could mimic in the further reaches.

Glancing out the door after the page, she happened to spot a figure on horseback galloping toward the castle. She turned away, prepared to return to her study - figures on horseback not being terribly out of the ordinary - until she processed the long blonde hair trailing behind the rider. Long blonde hair that looked suspiciously like the blonde she'd seen nearly every day for the last eighteen years of her life. Turning back, she stared for a moment, a grin finally lighting her face as it became unmistakable that the rider was none other than her own daughter.

"Emma!" she cried. Motherly worry overriding regal pretence, she broke into a run, flying down the castle's stone steps and launching herself into the courtyard. Halfway down the pebbled walk she finally slowed - not from lack of motivation but from the simple mathematics that her daughter's mount was gaining ground far more quickly than her own feet. Moments later, Emma halted the steed and dismounted, allowing her mother a few moments of a crushing embrace before she wriggled away.

"Hi Mama," she said, wrapping the horse's reins idly around her hand as she led it to the hitching post nearest the family's entrance to their home. After tethering the animal she turned back to face her mother, who had matched her step-for-step since she'd arrived.

Snow studied her daughter for a long moment, using both hands to brush unruly strands of hair from her face before cupping it in her hands. Later, it would occur to her that Emma was unusually patient through this examination. It was to her fortune that her daughter understood her worry, and Emma was willing to grant her mother a little grace so that it could be assuaged. Finally Snow broke into a grin and once again wrapped Emma in her arms. "You're well!" she declared, and Emma fought back a chuckle at the surprise evident in her voice.

"As much so as the last time you saw me," Emma replied, briefly returning the hug. "Shall we go inside? I'd hoped to catch up."

Snow nodded enthusiastically, grasping Emma's hand and dragging her along into the study she'd so recently vacated. Crossing the threshold, she was flooded with memories - rocking Emma's cradle with her foot while she composed treaties, finding her hiding under the desk during games of hide-and-seek, sitting side-by-side on the couch while teaching her letters. Her daughter popping around the corner with a hesitant, "Mama?" was always a welcome interruption to whatever work she was embroiled in. But entering with her now was a harsh reminder that those days were finished - her daughter was a married woman and her place was no longer by her mother's side. As they settled into their habitual spots, tucked into opposing corners of the plush lounge, she looked on her daughter with a bittersweet fondness, realization setting in that she wasn't such a little girl anymore.

"What of the kingdom since I've been gone?" Emma asked, earning a scowl from her mother.

"You're asking about the kingdom? What of you?" Snow replied. "You're the one who was spirited away by Rumplestiltskin! Has he provided you with acceptable accommodations? Do I need to send your father to set matters straight?"

"Oh! Where is Daddy? I've missed him!" Emma exclaimed, taking an innocent air as she looked around in search of the father she knew well wasn't in the study.

"Your father is in a council meeting. Don't change the subject, young lady," Snow replied in a warning tone, her scowl deepening. "Have you been mistreated? What of this son he's tied you to?"

Emma chuckled. "I'm fine, Mama. He's put us up in a cottage on the grounds and-"

"He's left you alone with the boy?" she asked, horrified.

"As everyone is so wont to remind me, we are married." Emma shrugged, shifting in her seat as she continued. "You've nothing to worry about, he's behaved as a perfect gentleman - taken the settee without complaint. Poor chap. Seems to think his father has set his sights on our marriage blossoming, in turn causing Baelfire to be indebted to him. He's pretty well convinced that if we just play along with him, we can wait him out. Get him to see that we won't be having an epic love story and convince him to call the whole thing off, you know?"

"I don't like it, Emma. Attempting to outwit that man is like playing with fire."

"What are my options, Mama? Refuse to return? Continue to raise rabble? Any actions I take result in less favorable consequences. As it stands now, you and Daddy are safe, I am safe, and Baelfire and I have called a truce. We'll just sit on the matter for a while and hope he comes around once he sees that it is only driving his son further away."

"And what happens when he doesn't, Emma?"

Emma sighed. "Then I suppose we'll have to find the boy a larger settee, won't we." She let the statement hang in the air for a moment, definitive in its tone. Snow wasn't thrilled at her daughter's unwillingness to negotiate an escape route, but she'd clearly made up her mind. Adding that to the fact that her points were valid - the options truly were slim, it's why they'd allowed the marriage in the first place - and she chose not to pursue the matter further. Her attention was drawn back to the conversation as Emma continued, moving their talk in a different direction. "What have I missed since I've been gone?"

"Quite little, actually. The biggest issue has been the land quarrel your father settled last week - one of the farmers has gone back on his word. Your father's meeting with council now do decide how to proceed and I've sent word to the magistrate to request a meeting. Beyond that it's been mundane - setting grain prices for the spring and such."

Their visit went on quite like this, idle chit chat and gossip of the community. Charming - council adjourned for the day - joined them for lunch before heading off to continue work on some project or another. As the time for tea neared, Snow made mention of having it prepared, but Emma - glancing at the horizon outside - rejected the idea.

"I really should be going, Mama. I don't know the route well yet. I'd like to make my way back before nightfall."

"So soon?" Snow asked, her face falling. "Must you really go already?"

"I really should," Emma replied, again casting a glance outside.

"I suppose we'll see you this weekend at the ball, then?"

Emma blinked, having forgotten about it entirely in the chaos surrounding her sudden marriage. "I suppose so," she replied. "I'd like to be there, for Alex."

Snow walked her daughter outside, clinging to her a moment longer than necessary as they hugged goodbye. Emma's reassurance that they would see each other again in a matter of days was enough to calm her, and she gave a smile and a wave as she watched Emma mount her horse. Try as she might, though, she could not stop the tears from pricking at her eyes as she watched her daughter gallop westward and over the horizon.

Having groomed and stabled the horse, Emma made it to the door of the cottage just as the last beams of light disappeared over the horizon. She flopped onto the nearest chair as soon as she entered, kicking her boots off and flinging them towards the wall. Feet unburdened, she tossed a leg over the armrest, finally coming to rest as a jumble of limbs sprawled every which way, the complete antithesis of ladylike posture.

"If only your subjects could see you now, Princess," Bae quipped, a glint in his eye. He remained seated at the drawing table in the corner - had it been there when she left that morning? - but she was reasonably sure that he was merely teasing her.

"I thought we'd called a truce!" she protested. Narrowly overcoming the urge to stick her tongue out at him, she settled instead for a scowl. "It's been a while since I've ridden that hard, let alone groomed my own horse. I was terrified I'd be late returning! Being rather fond of remaining in my human form, I wasn't about to chance it."

"Fair enough," he replied, stifling a chuckle at her drama. "Did you enjoy your visit with your family?" Bae turned to look at her as he asked the question, and for the briefest of moments, she saw something - envy? longing? sadness? - flash across his face. She tucked the look away to analyze later.

"Indeed," she replied. "My mother was pleased to see me well. I think she was frightened that I'd been used as a human sacrifice or similar." A pause and then, "I reassured her I'd not been mistreated by you. Perhaps you could accompany me sometime. Get to know my parents as I've gotten the opportunity to know yours."

He raised an eyebrow in response, and she once again scowled at him. "I'm serious, Baelfire! I think my mother is still concerned she'll find me done away with in some manner befitting the Dark One. I'd like for them to see that you're not your father." She drew in a breath, biting her lip as she debated her next sentence. "No one is under any illusions about the start of this union, and certainly we both know it is no grand love story, but I'd like to think that there's a possibility that in the long term, we could achieve your goal of friendship. They should see that."

"All right," he conceded. "Perhaps it could be arranged."

The conversation faded to silence as Emma found herself staring into space, contemplating the oddities of her day. Eventually she voiced her thoughts aloud to the air, addressing no one in particular. "It's so strange, you know. Realizing that 'going home' at the end of the day means going away from the only home you've ever known."

Bae grunted a sympathetic reply, and Emma shifted on her chair to look at him. "Is it better, with the proximity? Does it still feel like you're home, staying on the property as you have?"

He stilled in his drawing, sitting quietly for a moment before finally laying his pencil down. Ambling over to the settee, he perched on the arm, crossing his legs at the ankles as he stretched them out in front of him. "That castle wasn't my home any more than this is. In all honesty... it was more like a prison up there, with my father as guard." He sighed. "It's been a very long time since I've had a home."

Emma studied him for a moment, taking note of the sorrow on his face. Torn between pressing for further answers and uncertainty that she wanted them, she found herself wondering again about the strained relationship he had with his father. Ultimately, her curiosity won out. "You weren't raised in the castle?" she asked.

He shook his head. "My father... he wasn't always like this. Long ago he was kind and loving. He didn't used to hurt and manipulate people. But then he changed..." Frowning, he shook his head again, clearing the far-away haze that had risen up in his eyes. "Sometimes there's no home to go back to, so forging forward is the only way to go."

"Perhaps you'll find that peace again someday," she offered, flashing him an encouraging smile.

"Perhaps," he replied, not sounding completely sold on the idea. "For now I'll try to make the best of what we have here. There's food in the pantry, a place to sleep..." He smirked, patting the settee. "It could be a good bit worse."

"Does it sound truly terrible if I say that I'm somewhat comforted by the fact that we're both miserable here?" Emma asked, managing a laugh.

Bae's face lit up in amusement at her question. "Well, they do say that misery loves company."

"I mean... I don't know. It was drilled into my head from such a young age that as heir to the kingdom, I had to be cautious when choosing to marry. Many of my suitors would be out for my crown, you know? Naturally when your father demanded I marry you, I assumed it was for the same reason." She shot him a glance, corner of her mouth threatening a smile as she continued. "Of course, we both know what they say about assumptions."

Emma paused as he delivered the expected chuckle, pleased that he'd taken the joke as she intended. "So in finding out that you're as displeased with the situation as I am... well, it's just a relief, I guess. It's not that I want you to be miserable, but just... things could just be so much worse. It's almost tolerable, if we're both here just waiting out your father's madness, no ulterior motives to be had."

"None on my part, Princess," he confirmed. "As we discussed last night, I agreed because it was the only conscionable decision."

"It's appreciated," she replied, reiterating what she'd told him the prior night.

He paused, seeming to weigh his words before he continued. "If I may... a bit of advice. I've faced some less-than ideal situations, and I've found that life is what you make of it. You can keep fussing about how you wish things were, or you can do the best you can with what you've got."

Emma screwed up her face in displeasure. "You sound like you've been talking to my mother."

Leaning back in his seat, Bae shrugged. "Is she often correct?"

"Yes," Emma replied with a grumpy huff. "To the chagrin of both my father and myself."

"Then perhaps the advice isn't so terrible? Miserable company aside, we're both to be here for a while, so perhaps we should make the best of it."

"And how exactly do you suggest we do that?" she asked, an edge creeping into her tone.

"Interact, a bit, maybe?" he snapped back. Heaving a breath, he tempered his tone as he continued. "Have a conversation with me, instead of breezing past me in silence as you're so wont to do. Like it or not, we're in this together. We may as well rely on each other."

She studied him again, searching for the ulterior motives he'd just assured her were absent. Finding no evidence to the contrary, she nodded slowly. "Fair enough," she replied. "How about if we use tomorrow's breakfast as a start?" Perhaps, she thought, it would even afford them an opportunity to discuss the upcoming ball.

"Sounds reasonable to me," Baelfire said, sending her an easy grin. "Maybe we can even manage the cooking of that bacon."

She laughed in reply, shaking her head at his terrible joke. At least she hoped it was a joke. She certainly hadn't been joking about the fate of the cottage if she attempted it.