Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters.
This visit had been a long time coming.
With everything that was going on, Emma had only spent a few hours with Mary Margaret since she arrived in the Enchanted Forrest over a month ago. Her mother was now bedridden because of the pregnancy; the pain and fatigue forcing her to rest a majority of the day.
Emma made her way through the royal garden; the sound of songbirds surprisingly chirping, considering it was early December. Despite being late in the season, Emma noticed that the air was relatively warm for this time of year.
She stopped to pick a stray rose, and its soft, white petals bloomed with bright speckles of red and pink. It was a hybrid flower that Mary Margaret's mother, Queen Eva, had developed many years ago, in honor of her daughter's birth.
Carefully holding the stem, so not to be pricked by the thorns, Emma continued on, past the inner bailey, and toward the main entrance of the castle.
Emma had certainly found ways to stay busy the last two weeks; since Regina had kicked her out of the dreary office, and told her not to come back until she was ready to improve her magic, by unleashing all emotion.
Besides sword training and equestrian lessons with Henry and David, Emma also devoted at least two hours a day, alone in the royal stables, to focus her mind and channel her magic calmly. She had little success in transfiguring anything, but was able to move items from one point to the other, and cause them to explode or burst into flames.
Despite an occasional spark, however, Emma was often forced to resort to anger or hate, in order to get more powerful results.
On one particular occasion, Neal had cornered Emma in the stables after dinner, and asked her to consider a reconciliation. Emma responded by telling him to leave her alone, and caused the bedding stall to catch on fire.
Even more frustrating, was Gold's reluctance to share any more information with her on the rings. He claimed that all would be explained in due time, and gave her some crap about the "greater good."
She was tried of being constrained. To have so much information kept hidden, made her feel helpless and alone; something that had followed Emma for a majority of her life.
When it came to Henry's safety, she was simply unwilling to accept such isolation from knowledge, and the power to do something to change their situation for the better.
As she entered the East Wing, Emma noticed nurses leaving, various towels and pitchers of water in their hands. They had placed her sanctuary across from the baby's nursery, only two doors down from Emma's room.
Despite her condition, Mary Margaret had insisted on getting Emma familiar with the castle, and found time each day (in between her multiple naps) to introduce her to every member of the guards and staff.
When she reached her mother's door, a soldier she knew as Lucas, stood guard. He recognized her immediately, and lowered his head in respect, moving aside so that Emma could enter.
She still wasn't comfortable with being treated like a royal, but Emma decided that she was tired of fighting against, what Mary Margaret called, "the necessity of their position."
Her curtains were drawn over the windows, much to her mother's protest, in order to make it easier for the woman to sleep during the day. The dimly-lit room smelled of eucalyptus; which Regina brought to create a more soothing atmosphere, only a few days into her lie-in.
Mary Margaret noticed her presence, pulling her head around and giving her daughter an exhaustive smile. Emma approached slowly, taking care to gauge her mood; but when she saw that the soon-to-be-mother appeared in good spirits, Emma took a seat in the chair next to the bed.
"Hey there," she whispered to Emma, holding out her hand for daughter to accept.
Emma gave her mother's hand a reassuring squeeze, before she placed the rose in a vase next to the bed, filling the vase with water.
She noticed how extra emotional Mary Margaret was now; even compared to her already passionate nature. On more than one occasion, David gave Emma the "don't argue if you want to keep your tongue where it is" look, and walked away in the other direction.
It was interesting to see this side of her parents; one that allowed Emma to observe them being overbearing and protective of someone other than her. Although she was somewhat torn about the idea of a new baby, Emma was happy to help in any way possible, to make the upcoming delivery easier on the both of them.
Emma squinted in the dark, and found a couple spare candles in the drawer. She lit them with a flick of her wrist, which her mother didn't notice, as she stared at the windows across the room.
"I know, it's so very dark in here," Mary Margaret grumbled. "I begged the nurses to open the curtains, but they insisted on keeping them closed so I can sleep… although I couldn't possible sleep right now."
Emma gave her a casual shrug, trying to make Mary Margaret feel more relaxed, and looked into her mother's blood-shot eyes, which were shadowed with dark circles.
"At least this way, you don't need to worry about make-up," she teased.
Mary Margaret shook her head and blew out a deep breath.
Emma noticed a pitcher of water on the night stand, and grabbed a glass to fill it up. She handed it to her mother, making eye contact with her again, and Mary Margaret frowned in concern.
"I'm the one who is weeks overdue with a kicking baby, and you look more frazzled than I do," she said quietly.
Emma kept her face as blank as possible, and avoided Mary Margaret's stare.
"I'm fine; just a little tired."
Emma winced, realizing how insensitive that sounded, and leaned over to fluff one of her pillows.
"I'm sorry, I just meant-"
Mary Margaret placed a shaky hand on Emma's shoulder, cutting off her words, and forced her to look back into her face again.
"Don't apologize, sweetheart," she replied. "Finding out the truth from Gold and preparing for those witch sisters, must be taking its toll. There's no shame in admitting that you feel overwhelmed. I certainly don't expect you to dote over me and your sister with so much on your mind."
She snapped her head up at Mary Margaret's words, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
"How do you know it's a girl?" Emma asked, amused. "I didn't realize they had sonogram machines in this kingdom.
"I have a feeling," her mother mumbled quietly.
She saw Mary Margaret shiver, though the air was relatively warm, and she stood up from the chair, glancing around the room. She made her way over to the bay window, and grabbed another blanket from the ledge.
Laying it over her mother, Emma decided it wouldn't help Mary Margaret to endure any of her recent woes or worries, so she tried to change the subject.
"This will keep you warm," Emma said quietly, patting down the soft comforter and tucking her mother in tightly. "The fabric reminds me of my baby blanket."
Mary Margaret smiled at her then, and leaned her head back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.
"Did I ever tell you about that blanket?"
Emma sat back down in the chair, but didn't look at Mary Margaret's face, as she slowly shook her head. By the sound of her voice, though, Emma knew that it would make her happy to tell the story, so she remained quiet.
"My mother was always so protective of me," Mary Margaret said quietly, keeping her eyes to the ceiling. "She started on my quilt the moment she found out that she was pregnant. Her mother had made one for her, and her mother before her, too."
Emma looked over to her again, curious to hear more about her grandmother; who Mary Margaret had never spoke about in detail before, and listened closely, as she continued.
"She asked a local seamstress for the warmest fabric that was available in the kingdom, and made sure that it was white," she laughed softly, and shook her head.
"My father told me that she was certain I would be a girl, and that I would have skin as white as the snow."
There was a tone of pride in her voice that both lifted, and made Emma's heart sink. Mary Margaret had such wonderful memories of her mother as she grew up; ones that Emma would never have with her own.
An air bubble popped in the fire from across the corner, but Emma didn't even jump, intent on Mary Margaret's face, as she spoke again.
"I hadn't known your father's mother very long, before we were attacked by Regina's soldiers. She was shot with a poison arrow, and we needed to find the cure quickly, but she knew I had been cursed by King George."
Emma frowned at her then, confused about her words, as Mary Margaret had never mentioned it before.
"He tricked me into drinking a potion that ensured I would never have a child, and I told Ruth the truth about my curse," her voice a near-whisper, as she stared out into the dark of the room.
"I didn't have the heart to tell your father."
Mary Margaret looked back over at Emma again, her voice breaking slightly, as she continued.
"When we found the elixir for her wound, she made sure it was in my drink, so that my curse would be lifted."
She guessed the outcome, before her mother spoke again, and Emma's heart caught in her throat, as she saw that Mary Margaret's red rimmed eyes were filled with tears.
"Your grandmother gave her life, so that I could bear a child," she said, her voice stronger now.
"So I named you Emma Ruth, and embroidered your name onto the blanket, using the same fabric that my mother had for mine."
Emma simply could not speak; she simply could not do justice to what Mary Margaret had said, by giving any sort of response.
So she held her hand again, and listened to the crackling in the corner; the warmth of her mother's touch and the comfort of the fireplace, providing Emma with relief.
She felt the grasp tighten, and Emma looked back at Mary Margaret, who now gave her a small smile.
"This baby is not a replacement, Emma," she said gently, keeping her eyes on her daughter's."She is not a do-over, or a means to forget our past. David and I want to start over with a new beginning, but for all of us, together. Do you understand?"
Something inside snapped Emma from her reverie, and the moment of solace was over. She gave Mary Margaret a tight smile, squeezing her hand one last time, before she stood up from her chair.
"I told Henry that I would meet him in the training yard in ten minutes," Emma said, glancing at her watch. "I'll come back later tonight to check on you."
She leaned over quickly, kissing her mother's forehead, and then turned to walk toward the door without another word.
Mumbling to the Lucas that Mary Margaret should not be disturbed, Emma headed for the training yard.
There must be something wrong with a person who could not reach out to their mother in her moment of need. Emma wanted to hug Mary Margaret; to smile at her, and tell her that everything would work out the way it was supposed to.
But she couldn't do that.
She couldn't make a promise like that to someone who had sacrificed so much; and who had so much still left to lose. They all had loved ones they cared about, and a baby isn't going to make their situation any easier.
So she would just have to be strong. She would need to find the answer to defeat whatever it was that these witches had planned; and Emma would do whatever she had to do.
Just like her parents had done.
The breeze felt good against her clammy skin, the cool air hitting Emma as she walked out the main entrance. Her long-sleeve, peasant top and riding trousers had become Emma's normal attire, allowing her to train more comfortably and effectively.
Suddenly, she heard a loud shout from a few yards away, and recognized it immediately as Henry's.
Emma took off at a sprint, turning the corner to see Henry fall to the ground with a grunt. She opened her mouth to yell out his name, before her son started to laugh.
Hook held out his good hand to help him up, but Henry just pulled the pirate down on top of him. The two wrestled, as Henry grappled with Hook surprisingly well, despite his disadvantage of size.
She noticed that her son appeared to enjoy himself, forcing the pirate's good arm behind his back and pinning him to the dirt.
She was amazed by the youthful look on Hook's face in those brief minutes. The man seemed like he hadn't a care in the world, and that he was a child again; playing with a boyhood friend.
For the second time in the last half hour, Emma's chest tightened, and she recognized the bittersweet quality of the situation: two people she cared about enjoying themselves, while Emma struggled with what had been revealed back in that cave in Narnia.
After a while, Hook gave up; raising both arms in the air with a smirk on his face. Emma was so taken by the scene that she stopped, and Henry spoke.
"How long have you been a pirate, Killian?" Henry asked, sitting down on a nearby weaponry bin.
Hook appeared surprised by the question at first, but recovered quickly and rubbed his chin, sweat dripping down his forehead.
"Oh, most of my adult life, I would suppose, lad," he replied, placing the sparing swords back into the bin.
After a few moments of silence, Henry spoke, his voice much quieter, though Emma could still hear him over the rustling of bare branches in the December wind.
"Is that why my dad hates you so much?" The boy had asked the question timidly, watching the man closely for any sign of anger.
"Or is it because you like my mom too?"
Hook raised both eyebrows at Henry in surprise, but replied rather quickly.
"For someone so young, you're quite perceptive, aren't you?"
Henry shrugged his shoulders, and waited for Hook to address his question.
The pirate's smile ebbed away, and he sighed.
"It's a bit more complicated than that, Henry," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Your father's anger toward me stems from a great many reasons… some of them, quite valid."
The boy stared up into the pirate's face, giving him a once-over, before he spoke again.
"Well, maybe he just misunderstood. You seem like a pretty good guy to me."
Hook's face was stoic, as he moved over to where Henry sat, and stared out into the horizon.
"Perhaps I was; once."
Emma felt Hook's vulnerability all the way over from where she hid, crouching behind one of the exercise dummies. Despite the urge to show herself, she remained still, and watched Hook put down his guard to her son.
"I overheard Grandpa say that only a coward attacks another man behind his back," Henry mumbled, his eyes now directly at the ground below his feet.
"I guess that means my dad is a coward, since he tried to hurt you, and left my mom all alone before I was born."
Even from the good distance away, Emma could see a pained expression come over Hook's face, before he sat down, joining Henry on the bin.
"Your father had a very difficult life before he met your mother, lad."
Henry nodded his head slowly, his voice louder this time.
"Yeah, he told me about Mr. Gold leaving him," her son answered, before looking up into Hook's face again, a stern expression written there.
"But that's no excuse for hurting my mom. I love my dad, Killian, but I also hate him sometimes for what he did."
Emma tensed at Henry's words, as they echoed around in her skull. Hook moved from his seated position, and knelt in front of the boy, peering directly into his face.
"I think… that perhaps Neal believed he was giving your mother a chance to find the one thing she never had, but always wanted: her family."
Emma's breath caught suddenly, and she subconsciously moved forward, desperate to hear every word that followed. Henry face scrunched up, and his lip quivered, as he spoke.
"But she loved him; my mom. You think they really loved each other?"
She felt tears pool around her eyes; there was no energy left to stop them this time, and her son's pain was too much for her to bear. With no one to witness, Emma let hot tears slide down her cheeks.
Hook nodded his head slowly, compassion written on his features.
"I do indeed, my boy."
There was a minute of silence, as Emma sobbed quietly. She watched Hook stand up, and Henry right afterward, expecting them to head back to the castle.
Emma wiped her face, and started to move out from behind the dummy, when Hook spoke again.
"Henry, your father is a good man. I have known him since he was your age; and he was just as brave then, as he is now," he said, before putting his hand on Henry's shoulder.
"And I have no doubt that he would do anything to protect you and your mother."
Emma froze in place, her heart pounding as her eyes never left Hook's face. The man never seemed to fail in surprising her, but this was something she couldn't have possibly been ready for.
"You see Henry, sometimes when all the people we care for abandon us, it's difficult to imagine how much we can mean to someone else."
Henry took a moment to contemplate the man's words, and looked up at him again.
"So he just made a mistake, because he was scared."
Hook looked back down again, and smiled at Henry, giving him an affectionate pat on the head.
"Aye, lad. And there is nothing wrong with being scared," he replied.
"Hell, even knights get scared sometimes," Hook added, giving Henry a quick wink.
Henry nodded his head, and as Emma came out from behind the dummy to make her way over to them, she heard her son's quiet reply. "I'm not a knight yet."
"Soon enough, lad. Soon enough."
Henry noticed Emma right away and his face lit up. "Hey mom! You're late," he teased.
Doing her best to look casual, Emma smiled at her son, a lump still in her throat, as she put her arm around Henry.
"Sorry, I got held up," she croaked, looking over at Hook briefly.
He seemed to notice something was off, but said nothing more; which Emma was grateful for.
Before she could ask Henry if he wanted to train anymore, David called out to them from the main entrance. They turned to see him jogging down, Regina and Neal close in tow.
Neal reached them first, but Henry didn't wait, running over to his father, and throwing his arms around him. The man appeared somewhat surprised, but returned the embrace, exchanging looks with Emma and Hook both.
"Hey buddy," he murmured.
Regina came up behind, placing her hand on her son's head and smiling.
"Were you training, Henry?"
Emma didn't hear his response, as David came to stand next to her and Hook, engaging them immediately.
"Hey," he breathed, panting slightly.
"Everything alright, mate?" Hook looked concerned, but David appeared rather calm. He nodded his head at them both, and looked at Emma.
"It looks like you're going to be a sister very soon," he said to her, a grin on his face.
Emma noticed that Hook was already looking at her, intent on her reaction. She pulled David into a quick embrace, darting her eyes back over to the pirate with a small smile.
"Does this mean that I'm going have an aunt or uncle?"
Henry was flanked by Regina and Neal, a look of pure exhilaration on his face. Emma broke into a wide smile then, and pulled Henry into her side.
"Yeah, Kiddo. It looks that way."
Hook looked over to Regina, and addressed her directly.
"And where has your lion-hearted betrothed gone off to these days?"
David responded before the queen could.
"I sent him out with a scouting party to obtain allies," he said, turning back to Emma, then.
"We need to start building our army again."
Emma let out a deep breath, a wave of relief washing over her. Finally, they could set their focus back on preparing for a fight.
When the evil showed up, they would be ready.
There was a loud bang, and Emma immediately recognized the green puff of smoke from the corner of her eye, before she pulled Henry closer to her, a loud cackle ringing out over the training yard.
"I'm afraid I don't have an invitation to this party," Zelena rasped, a gleaming, wide grin plastered onto her face.
"But I do promise to make quite the splash."