A/N - Thank you for all of the kind feedback! Glad to see this story still has a following. Don't panic if this has a hiatus - either after this chapter or the next I want to buckle down and concentrate on the other story I've been working on forever, get it to the point where I can start to share. My promise holds true; as long as I have readers I'll see this through to the end! Thanks all! -DSB
Dividing up had seemed like a good idea at the time - and maybe it was a good idea, she wasn't really sure. But Emma barely had time to process the sight of Bae tumbling into the brush on the roadside before she felt the wagon begin to slow. As the reality of the situation set in, the worries of her return to Northpass fell upon her. At least she'd seen Bae hop up and slip into the treeline, disappearing from sight - it might take him a while, but she'd see him at the castle later. One fewer worry, knowing he'd made the jump okay. Hopefully he'd not be too badly bruised.
The sudden and unplanned solitude was a shock to her system. With it dawned the realization that she was now solely responsible for the safety of her entire little family - an utterly daunting and terrifying task. The well-being of all three of them rode on her ability to navigate the next few hours.
Anticipating the wagon's stop at the edge of Northpass, she did her best to comb her fingers through her hair - long since an impossible task - and look as regal as possible. Fat lot of good it did - she was so bedraggled she'd sooner be taken for the town beggar than a peasant, nevermind royalty. Still, the act helped to center her; for the first time in six months she found it necessary to slip back into the skin of Princess Emma. Unfamiliar and ill-fitting after her experiences in Lincolnshire, it felt like more of a farce than ever. Still, those masks that she'd stripped off over the course of her marriage would have to return - she could be Princess Emma long enough to get them home.
She settled back as the hay wagon stopped, listening to the guard greet the driver. She drew in a breath, steadying herself, as she listened to them chat for a moment. Then she could hear footsteps as the guard rounded the wagon - it was time.
The guard lifted the wagon's flap to perform the inspection. Immediately his eyes lit upon Emma. She flashed him a smile, hoping to reflect confidence that she didn't truly feel. Better to charm him than offend, she supposed. His eyes grew wide and he dropped the flap, darting back around the front of the carriage.
"You've a stowaway," the guard said gruffly.
"I've no such thing!" said the driver. "How dare you accuse me of such impropriety!"
Grabbing the satchels, Emma clambered out of the rear of the wagon. "He didn't know!"
The look of shock on the driver's face must have convinced the guard of the truth of her tale, as he rounded on Emma. "You're a stowaway!"
"Yes sir." She nodded.
The guard squinted at her, baffled. "Whyever for?"
She grinned, finding herself strangely amused by how much her cheeriness seemed to confuse him. "My family lives just outside of Northpass, you see, and I'd been walking a fortnight to get back to them..." She trailed off, then shrugged. "Riding seemed ever a so much more pleasant way to reach my destination."
The guard harrumphed. "I'll have to arrest you, you know."
She nodded again, sobering. "I know. Still far preferable to walking." She then turned to the driver and let out a small curtsey. "Thank you kindly for your service."
The guard rolled his eyes at the show of gratitude. The hay merchant looked on in shock as the guard wrapped a hand around Emma's upper arm and none-too-gently led her off to his paddy wagon. She was careful to hold her head up as she climbed in - steady, careful steps - and as she swept her skirts out of the way to settle on the floor, she thanked her lucky stars that her mother had insisted on the years of etiquette lessons. The door slammed shut and she loosed a breath - so far so good.
It was but a short ride to the prison. There, the guard hauled her out of the back of the wagon and tossed her to the waiting guards. "Stowaway. She'll need to stay the night on account of her thievery of service. Not even a ha'penny to the merchant."
The receiving guard grunted a response and waved her captor off, turning instead to Emma. "Name?" he asked, not even bothering to look at her as he turned to a new page in his ledger and poised his quill to write.
"Emma," she replied.
"Of which house?"
"Of the house…" She trailed off, taking a moment to choose her words carefully. "I don't know that it has a name, to be honest, sir."
He stopped, setting the quill down and looking at her. "You're from Northpass, are you not?"
"Nearby, sir."
He raised an eyebrow. "And you haven't a proper name?"
She shrugged, steeling herself for the guard's reaction. "I've always just been called by my title."
"Your title." He regarded her warily again, then grasped onto her arm - more gingerly than the first guard, she noted - and walked her into the tiny town jail. It was usually reserved for those who over indulged in their ale - anything more serious came with a punishment to match. Given the early hour, the cell was empty. The guard held out a hand for her satchels, hanging them on a nearby peg as he waved her inside. She sighed as he clinked the door shot.
"Can't have those in the cell. You'll get them back once we sort things out. Need to beg a quick consultation… be back in a moment."
She watched as he disappeared around a bend. Moments later he reappeared with a second - apparently more senior - guard. They remained in the corner, speaking in hushed tones, whispering and gesturing in her direction. Undoubtedly, they were trying to determine what to do with her: believe her claim of nobility and treat her with kid gloves, or call her out as an impersonator to the throne. The conversation was short, and before she knew it the senior guard approached her. "You say your name is Emma?"
She nodded primly. "Yes."
"And you typically go by your title?"
Another nod. "Yes."
He leaned back, impatience coloring his demeanor. "Which is...?"
She couldn't help but smirk even as she tried to sound innocent. "Princess?"
The guard steeled his gaze to her, looking her up and down before he continued. "You don't look much like a princess. More like a vagrant. Rumor has it that the princess ran off - or was kidnapped by the Dark One's son-"
She flew towards the guard, wrapping hands around the bars that stood in her way. "He didn't kidnap me! He's worked his fingers to the bone protecting me!"
The guard stopped and stared at her again, eyebrow raised as he worked to hide his amusement at her outburst. "My, oh, my. So... either you're the runaway princess, fallen in love with her captor - or else you're an imposter. Who shall we call to determine which it is, milady?"
Emma grinned. Victory. "Ask the palace to send Lancelot down. Don't tell them why - no need for my mother to come flying down to town. Send Lancelot - with a second horse, or a wagon or a carriage - something to pick up a traveler. He's been with my family for years, he'll be able to identify me in a second."
The second guard did not respond, simply raising an eyebrow before returning to the first guard in the corner. The two conferred for a minute, and then another, the whispering getting more pronounced and the gesturing getting more wild with each passing moment. Finally, Emma could stand it no longer. "You could certainly call the Prince and Princess if you'd like - no doubt they'll be thrilled to have me back. Just thought we could save the royal hysterics for somewhere away from prying eyes."
The guard harrumphed. "Well enough. We'll send a messenger."
Emma tried to calculate the time it might take - 20 minutes each way for transit, probably another twenty to find a messenger. Even at an hour for Lancelot to pull himself together, and he ought to be here by now. She'd counted the stones of the cell wall, twice - two hundred and six - and began, for the first time, to question the wisdom of her hastily conceived plan. They'd been living by such decisions for what seemed like forever, but still - what if this was the time it fell in upon them? If Lancelot sent a guard who couldn't identify her on sight... if Bae made it to the castle before her, no explanation for where she'd gone… if no one came for her at all… what then?
Her anxiety climbed as the sun dipped in the sky. Her patience grew cold and she'd all but resigned herself to spending the night amongst the down's drunkards and vagrants when finally she heard voices once again. A wave of relief washed over her and she jumped up, barely remembering to regain her composure before the men entered. She hung herself halfway out of the stall between the bars, feigning nonchalance.
"-if this is a trick," she heard Lancelot warn the guards, leaving them with a threat in the event they'd lured him out of the castle so late on a prank.
Emma called out. "Would I ever play a trick on you?"
Lancelot whirled around. "Princess Emma?"
She grinned - for real this time. "In the flesh. Now, would you tell them who I am so they'll let me out of here?"
He looked as if he'd seen a ghost. "We thought you were - but they said - but the Dark One-"
She drew back, bristling. "Bae's father had nothing to do with this. We've had a bit of an adventure, to be sure, but -"
"That boy - he kidnapped you! However did you escape? I'll sound the alert -"
"No!" Emma yelled before regaining her composure. "That won't be necessary. He'll be meeting us at the castle later. It's - uh... A bit of a long story."
The guard - not looking entirely certain - pulled the keys out and walked towards the cell door. Stopping just shy of the lock, he looked at Lancelot. "You'll vouch for the identity of the prisoner?"
Lancelot nodded. "Indeed. I'll vouch for her and take her into my custody."
The guard unlocked the cell door, swinging it open and then bowing. "Your highness."
Rolling her eyes, Emma laughed. Perhaps these were the opportunities for revolution Bae kept needling her about. "Emma's fine. Save the genuflection for my parents. Appreciate the release. If you could just get my things…"
The guard all but fell over himself to lift her bags down, attempting another bow as he handed them over. "Please, accept my apologies."
"For what - following the law of the land? There'll be no need. I'll follow up with the merchant to ensure he's paid for the trip. I'm thankful to know the kingdom's well-being is in such capable hands."
The guard gaped - had he been expecting a reprimand? - and Emma nodded to Lancelot. She slung her bag onto her shoulder. Lancelot reached out to take the Bae's - but she shook her head, instead clinging to the remnants of her life in Lincolnshire even as she climbed into the carriage that would return her to the life that still felt a million miles away.
"I've brought a visitor for the Prince and Princess," Lancelot told the guard at the front door. Emma stood silently behind him, tucking her hood more tightly about her face - not that anyone would recognize her between her ratty dress and bedraggled hair.
"The prisoner from Northpass?"
Lancelot grunted. "They'll want to see this one. Do you know where I might find them?"
"I believe Princess Snow is in her study."
Lancelot nodded sharply, then began walking - expecting Emma to follow. As if she didn't know where her own mother's hideaway was. Ten steps down the hall and another six to the right, and she'd be reunited with her mother. Emma's stomach churned; once the initial shock wore off, what would her reaction be? Anger that she'd run away - joy that she'd found happiness with Bae - fear that she'd chosen to cement her marriage to the Dark One's son? Or disappointment, perhaps, that they'd been so careless as to get themselves into a mess they couldn't get themselves out of; that they'd spent so long running from Cora only to return home before she was even caught. But she thought back to Hannah's words - of Hannah's mother's plea - and hoped fervently that her own mother would feel the same. Still, she couldn't help but worry - if she was met with disappointment after all they'd gone through, she couldn't bear it.
She came to a stop behind Lancelot as he knocked on the oak doors. Resting a hand lightly on her stomach, she reminded herself why they came - why they really came - and that as long as her son was safe, her mother's emotional storm was a small price to pay.
She took a deep breath as she heard Snow answer - "Yes?" - and watched Lancelot call through the doors. "Your Highness, there's a visitor here for you."
"Can it wait? I'm not accepting visitors at the moment."
He cast a sidelong glance at Emma, a small conspiratorial smile lighting his face. "I think you'll want to see this one."
Emma could practically see her mother sigh in the pause that followed. "Very well." The heavy metal hardware clanked as Snow unlocked the door, pulling it open and stepping back to usher her guard and the visitor in. She shut the door; the room was dim with the curtains drawn and just a pair of candles on the desk. Still, it was her mother's study - and her mother, right in front of her. It was all Emma could do not to cry.
"Well?" Snow addressed the guard impatiently. "Would you kindly introduce me to our all-important visitor?"
Taking advantage of her mother's focus on Lancelot, Emma pulled her hood back. She took a steadying breath, then spoke - "Hi, Mama."
The look on her mother's face as she whirled around was almost worth every discomfort in their journey. "Emma?" she asked, her voice breathy in shock. She looked as if she'd seen a ghost. Stepping towards her daughter, she picked up a strand of hair and examined it, rubbing it between her fingers as she peered at her daughter's face - as if trying to ascertain whether she were real. "Is it truly you?"
Emma nodded, biting her lip to steel herself against the tears that were threatening to escape. "Yes Mama, it's me."
Snow threw herself into Emma's arms, sobbing uncontrollably on her shoulder. Emma glanced up as Lancelot slipped from the room - he'd handle her return discreetly, she was certain. In the meantime Emma stroked the back of her mother's head - as her father had always done for her when she'd experienced one of life's heartbreaks - and murmured softly in her ear. "It's okay, Mama, I'm here, I'm back. We're safe - we're all safe."
"You're okay?" Snow asked, drawing back. "He didn't - did he hurt you?"
Emma looked at her mother, confused. "What?"
"My darling daughter, if that boy harmed you in any way..."
Emma's eyes grew wide. "Bae? He would never - he could never - why would you think... Mama, he's my husband."
Snow blinked. "He stole you away, kidnapped you in the dead of night... I'm so sorry we put you in that situation, Emma. Your father's made arrangements to have it annulled, made it so that we can all put this farce behind us."
"He's - what - why would you-" Emma stopped, drawing in a breath and trying again. "That can't happen, Mama. He's my husband."
"But-"
"I love him. He didn't steal me away, he came along when I ran from Cora. To keep me alive, to save me from starving or freezing to death or - oh, Mama, it's such a long story. We can tell both of you the whole thing once he arrives."
"I - you - he… arrives?"
"It shouldn't be too much longer. He hopped off the haywagon just before we got to Northpass. I... couldn't…" She hesitated, waiting for her mother's "why." When it didn't come - Snow too caught up in the rest of Emma's ramblings to notice - she continued. "We figured it would be far easier for me to settle things in town than the pair of us. I expect him to be here before nightfall."
Snow nodded slowly, trying to take everything in. "The boy -"
"Bae."
"He's your - husband."
Emma huffed. "This isn't news, Mama. You orchestrated the wedding yourself."
"But he's your husband."
Bristling, Emma nodded. This was what they'd wanted - why was her mother finding it so hard to swallow? "My marriage is legitimate, yes."
Nodding slowly, Snow looked Emma up and down, as if to assess her - blinking as she seemed for the first time since her arrival to really see her. "Dearest, you're filthy. And what are these rags? Whyever did you agree to travel in these skirts? Let's get you upstairs - cleaned up. We can talk there."
Emma nodded - perhaps the walk would allow her mother to wrap her mind around everything. And she hadn't even gotten to the biggest piece of news - the one Emma was still trying to wrap her mind around herself. She flipped her hood back up over her head as Snow took her by the hand and led her towards her chambers. Stopping the nearest member of the palace staff, Snow made a request. "Find David at once. Ask him to meet me in Emma's room - tell him it's urgent."
The handmaiden skittered away and Emma followed her mother in silence. No sense in trying to explain the tale as they walked - and it wouldn't do at all to be spotted in this state anyhow. Best to let her mother work her magic, enjoy the reunion with her father, and set the staff to keeping an eye out for Bae.
They entered Emma's chamber and she pulled the hood off once again. Looking around, she felt as if she'd stepped into her past - having last walked out of the room to head to her wedding, feeling as if her life were over. Funny to see it today and realize that it had only just been beginning.
She drew in a breath, turning to find her mother tugging on the bell pull. "I'll have Colleen draw a bath straightaway," Snow said.
Emma nodded. "Can you ask her to let the staff know to deliver Bae here immediately upon his arrival?"
Snow blinked - as if she'd forgotten about him already. "Of course."
"He'll be in as poor a state as me. Need a bath and clean clothes as well. And some sort of evening meal. For both of us." She paused, fidgeting, before continuing. "Nothing large. We don't eat much."
Snow frowned. She opened her mouth - inevitably to tut over the hardships of the past few months - when a knock at the door interrupted her.
"Snow," came Charming's voice, as the door swung open. "Why are you in Emma's-"
He spied Emma, eyes going wide much as Snow's had. She smiled. "Hi, Daddy."
"My baby girl," he cried, crushing her into an embrace, and it wasn't but a moment before Emma felt his tears soaking her scalp. "You've come back to us!"
She nodded, face scratching along his decorated tunic. "It was time."
"You've been - where have you been? I found the cave - but you were gone! I've been going mad - where has that boy been hiding you?"
"We've been in Lincolnshire," she replied, stepping back and meeting her father's gaze. Charming kept a snug hold on both of her shoulders - as if he was afraid that if he let go, she'd disappear again. "It was the furthest spot we could think of - to stay clear of Cora."
"Lincolnshire!" He gave her shoulders a squeeze. "Yet you finally managed to escape, make it back to us. However did you manage it?"
"Escape?" Emma's brow furrowed. "Mama said something similar. I think you've got it all wrong - Bae's been protecting me. All this time, he's been keeping me safe."
Charming stared back at her, jaw tensing. "Safe?" He let out a humorless chuckle. "He's kept you away from us."
Emma scowled. This misconception that her parents seemed to have needed to be dispelled at once. She stepped back so as to include Snow in the conversation. Firmly, leaving no room for argument, she replied. "No, he's kept me away from Cora."
Charming's eyes narrowed as the tension in the room ratcheted up a notch. He opened his mouth to speak, but Snow cut him off.
"I need to get her cleaned up," she said, shooting a significant glance at her husband. "There'll be time for all of this once she's dressed. I just couldn't keep her from you a minute longer than necessary."
Charming nodded, a distrustful eye still turned towards Emma's story, but conceding Snow's request. He pressed another kiss to the top of Emma's head before sharing a look with his wife - another of those wordless conversations Emma knew so well. Funny how mysterious they'd always seemed - yet in her own marriage they came so naturally.
"Colleen is drawing your bath now," Snow said, as David slipped out the door. She stepped into the closet to choose a dress for her daughter. "We'll find something to wear. What about your turquoise beaded gown, dear?"
Emma wanted to laugh - the gown was so fitted it took three people to button it on a good day. If she hadn't been able to fit into her trousers back in Lincolnshire, there simply wasn't a chance. "It won't fit, Mama."
"Nonsense, Emma! You're thin as a rail after all you've been through. And if there's any trouble, we'll simply put you in a corset, it will fit fine."
"It won't fit," she repeated. "What about the sea foam dress, the one with the high waist?"
Even without being able to lay eyes on her, she could see her mother wrinkling her nose. "I've never liked that one on you, Emma, you know that. It makes you look like you're expecting. Completely unbecoming for an unmarried young woman."
Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm not unmarried, Mama."
"Still," Snow said, emerging from the closet with the turquoise gown in her hand. "It's unbecoming."
Looking at the gown, Emma shook her head. "It's best to stick to the sea foam."
Snow frowned, undoubtedly attempting to deduce the reasons for Emma's stubbornness on the matter. She stared at Emma for a moment, and then realization dawned. "Emma."
"Hm?"
"Darling."
Emma looked at her, breath catching as she waited for her mother to speak. Finally, Snow forced out the question - "Are you expecting?"
Emma nodded, swallowing the lump that had inexplicably formed in her throat before forcing out a soft response. "I believe so."
Snow's eyes widened and she let out a soft, "oh." Moments later, her face lit with a soft smile, bending to wrap her arms around her daughter. "That's wonderful news dear!"
Emma let out a shaky breath - that bit of news had gone better than the last. Snow released her, settling beside her on the edge of the bed. "That's why you came home, isn't it?"
Emma nodded. "We'd been living out in a cabin near the edge of the realm, hiding from Cora. We didn't have much, but we were okay," she said - and Snow didn't miss the light in her eyes. Emma continued, her voice pitched lower. "But with a child... Mama, there were just too many things that could go wrong. All I could see was Bae having to bury us both. I couldn't let him go through that." She looked at her mother, far more story in her eyes than Snow could begin to guess. "How could I risk it when there was another way?"
Snow tutted. "How long have you known?"
"Not long. Two weeks, maybe? The journey was ten days or so, I don't remember now. We left just after we realized." She let out a small shrug. "Trained eyes probably would have caught it sooner. We didn't even think to consider it..."
She dropped her eyes to the rug, but Snow pulled her back into an embrace. "You are here now, you're all safe, that's what's important. We'll get Bae here and we'll figure it out… together."
Colleen stepped in then to announce that the bath was drawn, and Snow thanked her. "Emma, dearest… I'll go speak with your father about things. You get cleaned up, I'll ensure the staff is ready for Bae's arrival. And get some food prepared - don't eat much. I've never heard such nonsense!"
She gave Emma another squeeze and then she was gone. Emma blew out a breath - that could have gone so much worse. Hopefully her father would take it much the same. Her only remaining worry, then, was her husband - where on earth was Bae?