Lincolnshire, as it turns out, wasn't terribly different than the cave.

There was a structure - sure - and the climate was a bit warmer. But they were still limited by their meager means - living off of what they could catch and the vegetables they dug out of the perennial garden that Emma had unearthed in the overgrown backyard. She was no more eager to be snapped up by a deranged sorceress than she had been then, and although the distance gave her some peace of mind, everything she gained was stolen back by Bae's newfound worry.

Given the incident with the pirate, Bae found himself terribly concerned that they'd be found, that the fates would steal his happiness away just as he'd found it - snatching Emma from his grasp and leaving him heartbroken, forced to explain to her parents - and the kingdom - how he'd come to love her, yet failed to keep her safe.

And so Emma's days were spent within a near radius of the cabin. It surprised her to find that at first she didn't mind so much - she'd plenty to keep her busy, and the less she was seen, the better. Besides, everything her heart desired was in that cabin, what need did she have to stray? For as much as their circumstance was like the cave, the difference in relationship was significant - newlyweds in every sense of the word. As the weeks turned to months, their time was passed simply - dealing with the needs of the moment and continuing to discover each other. Because for all that they were inseparable, there were still constantly things to learn - conversations to be had - each coming to appreciate the experiences of the other's life, so divergent from their own.

"I really did try, you know," Bae told her one day, as they sat at the table eating their evening meal. "After my father had brought me back."

"Try what?"

He sighed. "To be his son again. To let him be the father he swore he wanted to be." He paused, pushing the chunks of sunroot around on his plate. "I figured, all I wanted was for him to come save me from that hellhole. And it took him forever, but he finally did."

"Yeah? What happened?"

"I mean, it sounds so stupid I guess, but it was just the two of us in that giant castle and he told me to make myself at home - so I went exploring. I found this library, biggest thing you've ever seen, floor to ceiling books, so tall you needed a ladder to reach them all. I spent a few days holed up in there, curled up in a chair in the corner, and thought maybe it would be okay, maybe it could be a home. But then one day he found me and - I don't know, something snapped. He started hollering about how it wasn't mine, I never should have gone in there, they weren't my books to touch. I guess he must have felt bad in hindsight, he had books delivered to my room regularly after that, but the damage was done. How do you trust someone whose temper is as brittle as that?"

In fact, the remarkableness of Lincolnshire was as much in what it lacked as in what it had. No deranged sorceresses, demanding parents, or confines of royalty. No pretense of a false marriage, nor explanation of a love story that wasn't quite straightforward; no rules limiting propriety or expectations pressing in from the rest of the world.

They lived as peasants - limited means, but limited turmoil. Sure, they'd managed the traditional "first fight" as Emma became restless with the confines of their homestead - a difference of opinion about how far from the cabin she should wander on her own, in which Bae accused her of being callous with her own safety and she accused him of trying to own her. It lasted into the night, Bae snatching a blanket and sleeping on the dusty cabin floor - not even a settee to host his slumber. In the end, she won, bursting into tears from her frustration and well - she wasn't quite sure why. Probably the same reason they'd fought in the first place. Her emotions had been a bit out of control as of late, something she'd put off to being trapped in one place for too long.

Though in the end Bae had conceded her free reign, the haunted look in his eyes convinced her that the victory was hollow. She quickly realized it was far less about possession or control - as had been her experiences in the past - and far more about his history of loss. She knew better, she thought, berating herself. To ease her conscience, she voluntarily set parameters of the stream to the east, the neighboring farmland at the south. Once in a blue moon, she satisfied her wanderlust by accompanying Bae to the market.

The fight blew over; growing them as individuals and strengthening them as a duo. It was a reminder, for Bae, that he needn't hold onto Emma quite so tightly - that she was well-equipped to navigate mere mortals - and for Emma, that she needn't project onto Bae the assumptions she held from her parents. Apart from that incident, they quarreled rarely; Emma was usually the instigator, and though Bae would never back down from his opinions, he had a way of disarming her that stole the wind right out of her sails. She was endlessly torn between finding it endearing and annoying, but in the end, she found it made her love him ever the more.

At some point, shortly after they'd arrived at the cabin, they had talked and agreed that Hannah and Harold's words were wise. If they'd had to explain their sudden appearance, "runaway princess" would certainly not suffice, nor could they be Baelfire and Emma, son and daughter-in-law of the Dark One. So they settled on sticking with Ruth and John - fewer names to draw from, to spout incorrectly under duress - and upon Bae's suggestion, brother and sister rather than husband and wife.

"That's… wrong," Emma had said, nose wrinkled.

"Yes, but if anyone is looking for you - and me in tandem - it will be as a husband, a kidnapper, perhaps a friend - never as a brother."

So she shrugged and gave him the ruse - for whyever would they need it, anyways?

The answer came for the first time when Emma stumbled upon a farmer, the man who worked the farmland at the south. Ambling back from the creek, the leaky pail drip-drip-dripping through the cracks in the top of her boots, she stumbled upon a cow meandering along the trail towards her - one that she was quite certain didn't belong there.

Though her experience with cattle was limited - nay, nonexistent - she figured they couldn't be so far removed from the equine species with which she was far more familiar. And so she greeted the cow, gave him a pat, and grabbed hold of his collar. The cow, as luck would have it, was rather complaint, allowing Emma to lead him back along the path - just so long as she allowed him to graze on the grass as they went.

After a few hundred feet of this wander and graze pattern, she found a breach in the fence - undoubtedly the cow's method of escape. So she tucked him back through, hauling a few of the planks across the gap, and started back on down the road. Unfortunately, so did the cow - knocking the planks down with a gentle rooting of his head. Emma sighed, turning back once more and stepping over the fallen planks to drag the cow back into his pasture.

She wasn't so quick to be done this time, leading the cow back towards the barn, a bit less patience in her step. Halfway up the pasture, she spied an old man - hunched and moving so slowly she made it nearly to the barn before they met.

"Found your cow out on the path, headed towards the creek," she hollered up at him.

The old man shrugged. "Third time this week. There's a reason I call her Gypsy. She's got a wanderin' soul."

"Aren't you worried you'll lose her?"

Another shrug. "She wanders back eventually."

"Wouldn't it be easier just to mend the fence?" Her voice was a normal level now, as she got within reaching distance of the old man - handing the cow's reigns over.

He snorted. "Tain't enough daylight for me to get that fence mended - and if I leave it for the night, she'll just knock it straight back down again." He gave the cow a tug, heading back from the barn.

Emma followed behind, unbidden. "I could help."

The old man looked her over and snorted. "You're just a little girl, ain't be worth much more than this old man alone."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "That's needlessly harsh."

"Tain't harsh when it's true."

"Look, sir," Emma said, cursing the long-ingrained habit of propriety - this man had insulted her, why must she address him so?! - "I think you're in need of a bit of help, why not accept some from a neighbor."

The man stopped. "You got a name, girl?"

"Eh-" She faltered. "Ruth."

"Well, Ruth, you seem a spry thing. Where'd you come from, anyways."

She jutted her finger over her shoulder. "My - ah - my brother and I - we've been staying at the cabin down the way."

"Ahh, old Mrs. Simon's place. Been abandoned since her children took her to the village with them some years back - surprised it's still standin."

Emma chuckled. "Barely." A leisurely pause followed, the old man staring back expressionless. Finally, she continued. "So what do you say? Give me some twine and some nails, I'll have your fence mended good as new."

The old man merely scoffed. An idea occurring to her, Emma flashed him a grin. "Still think I can't do it? I'll make you a wager, then. For the sport of it."

"A wager?"

"If I can't mend the fence, I'll bring my brother along to do it, and we'll both give you another day's labor besides."

"Or?"

"If I succeed, you'll owe me three shillings."

"Three shillings? Girl, you've done gone mad."

Emma smiled. "You're so certain I can't do the work - so where's the harm?"

The old man narrowed his eyes, studying Emma for a moment. Finally he broke into a toothless grin. "Girl, I like your spirit. You're on. You've got til sundown to finish... and if Gypsy stays in til week's end, the shillins are yours."

He then spat into his hand and extended it towards Emma. Upon seeing her raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "You want to work like a man, you best shake like a man."

She gave her own shrug and copied the gesture. Breaking the shake, she looked around. "Twine? Nails?"

"Best remember the hammer, too."

Needless to say, Emma won the wager.

She met the farmer at the fence at week's end, and he stuffed weathered hands into his pockets, grudgingly digging out the promised shillings. A tentative friendship was formed - the farmer catching Emma on her trips to the creek, offering a small payment for help with some menial task or another. Though she knew he appreciated the help, she was certain he appreciated the company more. His grown children had been killed in a war decades prior, and his wife had followed a few years back. "I only stick around for the animals," he told her. "Can't have Gypsy and her friends starvin' to death."

The coppers were much appreciated, useful for spending at the market for the odd items they couldn't grow or catch. One day in late spring, for example, the object was trousers. Emma's thin riding pants - worn the day they made their escape - were threadbare, and it turned out needlepoint didn't translate to mending as easily as she would have liked. So on Tuesday they headed to town - apparently market day in the small village. Or so Bae said. She could barely tell what month it was, let alone what day.

Months of peasantry hadn't dulled Emma's love of the marketplace. The barely controlled chaos, the energy stemming from the townsfolk heading this way and that - she was even content, for once, to let Bae drag her behind him as he dodged in and out of stalls. He paused at the edge of a main road to let a carriage pass and she found herself people-watching; a young mother approached the stall of a fishmonger, pointing to a fish and making an offer.

The fishmonger let out a loud rumble of laughter, startling the babe asleep in a sling on her mother's chest. The peasant woman shushed her, dipping her head to press a kiss to her child's forehead. She brought a hand to pat the child's bottom - rhythmically, in time with her swaying, soothing the child back to sleep even as she never missed a beat in her negotiations. The little girl's eyes slid back shut and Emma wondered - for a moment - if she'd ever been so easily contented in her own mother's arms.

"C'mon," Bae said, tugging on her arm and hauling her away from the spectacle. "We can catch all the fish we need, even if they're smaller than his. The tailor's this way."

In the end, Emma ended up with only one lone pair of trousers - tight enough only if they cinched the drawstring all the way. Having always had clothing made specifically for her, she never realized trousers weren't sized to fit women - especially those who'd spent the last few months all but starving to death. Grudgingly, she found a few flowing skirts - they'd be all right for wash day, she supposed. The skirts were, at least, inexpensive. Luckily Bae's trousers had fared far better than hers. She wondered if, perhaps, his father had laced them with magic - or if he was simply less prone to wear recklessly through them. In any event, for the sake of the household budget, Emma couldn't find it in her to complain.

Even Bae's furtive instincts weren't immune to lingering at the market long enough to split a pastry - the art of baking not being one mastered by either half of the young duo. They munched on their treat before wandering to the miller's tent, in search of a small sack of flour. Emma'd remembered enough of cook's lessons to make passable biscuits, which helped at least a bit to round out their meager dinners.

As they stood waiting for the baker to fill a sack of flour, too busy chewing to strike up a conversation, voices drifted in from the neighboring stall.

"Have you heard the latest news from up north?" the peddler said, chatting with his customer as he packaged his wares.

Emma nudged Bae, tilting her head to the left. He raised an eyebrow as the the peasant shook his head no. She raised her own - hope clear in her eyes of news of Cora's capture.

The peddler grunted before dashing her hopes. "The crier said we're to be on the lookout - the young princess has been kidnapped to parts unknown. She's a famed beauty, you know, just like her mother before her. Some scheme involving being sold to the Dark One - rumor has it that he's a son who stole the girl. Whether to rescue her from his father or to enslave her himself is rather unclear."

"I'd bet a shilling it's the latter."

The shopkeeper grunted. "Frankly, I didn't even know the Dark One had a son. Nor did anyone else, from the sounds of it."

"Well, Lincolnshire's a far cry from the royal lands. Can't imagine how such a girl would end up here."

And yet Emma tugged up her hood, exchanging a worried glance with Bae as she felt her world cinch a bit tighter - word gained that the kingdom was on the lookout. They hustled back to the cabin, quickly reaching an agreement that the marketplace was best avoided for the near future. She didn't need to venture out, not really, not if it put them in danger - she'd plenty at the cabin to keep her busy.

That afternoon, head still wrapped up the sights and sounds of the marketplace, Emma gave some thought to castle life, so foreign in light of her current plight as a peasant. She adored her life - but it couldn't be forever - and whatever would happen to them next?

"Bae?" she asked, a note in her voice causing him to pause in his task to give her his full attention.

"Hm?"

"What will we do when all this is over? When Cora is caught... what's next for us?"

He furrowed his brow, turning and staring at her for a moment. Walking to the table where she sat, he pulled out a chair and settled himself next to her. "Anything you want."

She bit her lip. "I've responsibilities, you know."

He nodded, slowly, her duties never far from his mind. "Then we'll go home, I suppose."

"Home?"

He shrugged. "The cottage? Your parents' castle, maybe - eventually, I suppose. The leadership of a kingdom will fall to you someday."

"To us," she corrected without thinking. "Is that what you want? Do you really want to run a kingdom?"

He reached out, wrapping his hand around hers and giving it a squeeze. "There are far worse fates than living in a palace and running a kingdom. And at the end of the day, what I really want is you."

She shot him a mock glare - punishment for escaping the question - but couldn't keep it up in light of his endearing answer. "But are you okay with this, truly? Or should we send a letter to my parents, set sail for a foreign land... Make a life only of our own, no pull of royal duties to speak of?"

"And who would run the kingdom then, my dear? You said it yourself, long ago - there's no one else for the role, it's you who's been groomed for it. Though I'd never a burning desire to lead the kingdom myself... I fear that's the life I chose when I agreed to marry you."

"But you didn't choose -"

"I did. The second time, dear heart, the one where I understood completely the life I would be accepting. That plan has never changed - keep you safe, protected from Cora, return you home to your family and your duty to the kingdom. It's just that... now I've wrapped myself up in it."

She smiled as he shrugged, his own small smile showing his comfort with the situation. "We don't have to-"

"We do," he replied, "And you know it as well as I do. But," he said, standing and moving back to the warped board that served as a kitchen counter, "until that time comes... we'll enjoy the peace here. And the solitude - away from all of the madness."

Meanwhile, back in the castle situated in the woods outside of Northpass, Prince Charming paced across the worn wooden floor in the library - awaiting the arrival of a guest. After a few minutes, his patience wore out and he let out a bellow.

"RUMPLESTILTSKIN!"

The sorcerer appeared behind the prince, rolling his eyes. "I was on my way, you needn't yell. You said the meeting was at one - I've five minutes yet."

The prince whirled around, his attempt to mask his startlement only partially successful. "No need to let this farce of a marriage continue any longer than it has to. Sit," David commanded, gesturing at the chair to his right.

"You know, in light of the fact I've got two good legs, I think I'll just go ahead and use them."

It was Charming's turn to roll his eyes. He opted out of picking a fight, instead gesturing at the man seated across the table from him. "You remember Bishop Armin. He performed the children's ceremony. Such as it was."

"And what a lovely pair they made," the Bishop spoke up. "Are the two well?"

"Hardly." The prince snorted. "That's why we're here. He forced them into the marriage," Charming said, glaring in the direction of the sorcerer. "It's a farce. I'd like it annulled."

The Bishop looked at Rumplestiltskin. "Is this true?"

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "The princess' parents signed her away in infancy. I merely held them to their bargain."

"And they'd like out of it?" the Bishop asked, looking between both fathers as they nodded. Unleashing a heavy sigh, the Bishop nodded. "Very well then." Standing, he made his way to the oak cabinets that lined the wall of his chamber. "Let me just find the decree... In the meantime, send the children in so that I might get their signatures."

After several seconds of silence he turned to find the two men exchanging a look. "Well? Won't you get them for me so that we can get on with it? Those poor darlings have been through enough with your machinations, let's set them free so that they can get on with their lives."

"They're not... here..." The prince began slowly.

"I see that. Why don't you go get them, then? Or shall we schedule an appointment for tomorrow? I'll have everything ready."

Charming looked at Rumplestiltskin, imploring him to explain. The sorcerer rolled his eyes. "I don't see why that's necessary. You performed the ceremony, can't you just tear up the certificate? There's nothing legitimate about the marriage."

The Bishop's eyes narrowed. "I can't annul a marriage without the parties present. Certainly you understand the ramifications if I were to-"

Charming bristled. "Even under order from your Prince?"

The Bishop raised an eyebrow. "With all due respect, sir, I answer to a power even higher than you. As such - if the children would like their marriage annulled, they'll need to appear and concede to it themselves." A pause and then, "Tomorrow then?"

"Erm, they aren't -" Charming faltered. "They won't be available then, either."

"Ah, I see," the Bishop replied softly. "Care to let me know when they might be available?"

"That seems to be the question of the hour," Rumplestiltskin said.

"Oh?"

"They've run off."

"They have run off? Together?"

"Well not-" David began, but Rumplestiltskin waved him off.

"Yes, together."

The mundaneness of Lincolnshire was interrupted one day, in a most rude and unexpected way.

Bae was preparing the meat for dinner and Emma had gone to dig out something to round out the meal. As he slipped the meat onto the fry pan, Emma walked back into the cabin. Bae turned to look at her, finding her arms full of greenery. "I've gathered some asparagus chutes - I know we've eaten them three days in a row but we've so many and so-" She stopped mid-sentence, wrinkling her nose. "What is that smell?" she asked, sounding offended.

"Squirrel?"

Her look of disgust deepened. She dumped the asparagus onto the table before turning and fleeing back out the cottage door.

"Emma?" Bae called after her, abandoning the meat over the fire and rushing out behind his wife. He grabbed the canteen on the way - she'd looked as if she was going to be sick - the least he could offer her was a way to rinse her mouth after.

Sure enough, he found her crouched in the brush next to the cabin, retching. He set the canteen down in order to catch her long hair in his hands, holding it away from her face. "Hey, hey," he said, rubbing small circles on her back with his free hand. "What's all this about? Squirrel's never bothered you before."

She shrugged, making no attempt to move from her spot. "Stomach's been acting up the last day or so. Guess it finally caught up with me."

His brow furrowed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She sat up on her haunches, leaning against the cabin and shooting him a grin that felt out of place considering the circumstance. "I know how you worry."

"That's not a reason to keep things from me!" The mischief that rose in her eyes gave him hope that her stomach had quieted, and he handed her the canteen. "Here, rinse."

She did as directed, handing it back when she'd finished. "Suppose you'd refuse to kiss me until I did, hm?"

"Don't deflect, Emma," he said, offering a hand to help her stand. "You're sick! You shouldn't hide it from me."

"It's just a bug," she said, waving him off. "Or more likely, a spoiled good of some sort. With the way we eat, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. Got it out of my system... I feel better already."

He eyed her warily, guiding her back into the cabin. "So you'll be fine for dinner, then." It was a statement, not a question, and he waited for her to call her own bluff.

"Maybe not the squirrel..." she said, wrinkling her nose again as the smell wafted over to where they were. Paling a bit, she continued. "Yeah, definitely not the squirrel."

He chuckled, showing her into a seat at the table and rooting around on the shelves next to the fireplace. "Here, how about a biscuit," he asked, handing her a chunk of salted hardtack left from an earlier meal. "I don't think it's too stale yet."

She accepted it, smiling in appreciation as she nibbled on the edge. "This is definitely more my speed."

He puttered around the kitchen, turning the meat in the pan and rinsing and chopping the asparagus. He kept one eye trained on his wife - as he was wont to do anyways, if the truth were told - but his anxiety calmed as the contents of her stomach seemed to be staying put. A pot had been put on to boil and he ladled water out of it and into a mug, pouring it over some sourgrass he'd retrieved from the yard a few days prior. Asparagus went into the boiling pot as the meat came off to cool and he checked Emma's tea, placing it in front of her.

"When did you become such a caretaker?" she teased him, gratefully accepting the warm mug.

He shrugged, cutting up the animal she'd found so offensive as they talked. "I dunno. I suppose since I've had someone to take care of." He shot her a quick smile, playing off the deep emotions that Emma was in no state to rehash.

"Suppose you have been doing it as long as I've known you."

He hummed in agreement as he carried his plate to the table. "Old habits, I suppose. When it was just me and Papa, we took care of each other." He stared off into a space for a moment, then shook his head, coming out of the reverie. "That's been a long time gone."

They chatted lightly as he ate, Emma gnawing at the edge of the biscuit as she sipped her tea. Once she had finished, he stood, carrying her dishes back to the counter. "I'll tidy up, you're in no shape for housework."

"Thank you," she murmured, the lack of argument betraying just how poorly she was feeling. She pushed back from the table, looking somewhat steadier. "I think I might just try to sleep it off."

"A good plan." Bae fought the urge to get up and help her over to the bed. Though he continued eating, his gaze never left his wife, worry in his eyes. They'd navigated Cora - the cave - the pirate - the journey to Lincolnshire and their time there. But luck couldn't remain on their side forever, and an ailment - well - anything serious would certainly be a threat they simply couldn't handle.

A/N - Lincolnshire, as it turns out, was such a time of respite for our characters that it was rather challenging to write! As such, I apologize for length between chapters. I appreciate the review/favs/follows that I've gotten, especially recently - they do motivate me to work on the story! So thank you all!

The latter half of Lincolnshire is well on its way, as Emma's illness reaches a fever pitch that leaves our young heroes with some decisions to be made. My goal is to have it up before the holidays… fingers crossed!

Thanks for reading!

- DSB