The UnHearted Princess [Swan Queen, 0/??]
Title: The UnHearted Princess [prologue].
Fandom: OUaT.
Pairing(s): Emma Swan x Regina Mills.
Rating: M.
Word Count: 1518.
Summary: Snow White makes it into the wardrobe before Emma is born, only to get to the new world and find that Pinocchio is already there. Now the single mother of two children in a strange and harsh world, can Snow put her faith in magic and help Emma become the person she needs to be? AU, eventual SwanQueen. Angst, angst, angst.
Warnings: TW violence, age difference. Age difference is one of my kinks. I know it's freaky. Leave me alone. :P
Disclaimer: I do not own OUaT, or any of its characters. :)
Gone.
It took twenty years to find true love, nine months to carry its gift, and just seconds to lose it all. Gone.
Snow White is lying on her back, afraid to open her eyes. This is the place where all her happiness will be destroyed, she reminds herself, the Queen’s menacing words echoing painfully in her memory. She doesn’t want to know what it looks like. She’s afraid of what she’ll see. Snow’s been through a lot of terrifying and miserable things but this is by far the worst and she’s not ready to process it yet. She keeps her eyes closed, she steadies her breath, and for a moment she’s almost desperate enough to believe that this is all just a harrowing nightmare, and in the morning she’ll awake in her true love’s arms.
But she knows better than that.
“Queen Snow White?” comes a small voice above her, and she opens her eyes.
Is it really a nightmare? For she’s in a forest- a forest just like the ones in the world from which she just came- not a desolate or cursed wasteland, like she expected. What queer kind of punishment is this?
And the voice above her- it belongs to Gepetto’s small boy, Pinocchio. Her first reaction is exuberant shock and elation- she doesn’t have to venture into this world alone. But her second reaction is curiosity and wariness, for how did the boy get here? Is he a mere mirage of her feeble mind? After some effort and help from the boy, Snow rises to a sitting position with the intent of asking Pinocchio how he managed to get here.
“Pinocchio?” she says, a little deliriously. “You’re here? But how?”
The little boy appears somewhat unsettled by this question and shifts unsurely on his tiny feet, his hands fervently occupied knotting themselves together. “My father told me not to tell,” he confesses sadly, biting his lip. “But you’re the Queen, and- the Blue Fairy told me I have to be a good boy, honest and true- so it would be okay if I told you, wouldn’t it?”
She reaches forward and takes his nervous hands in her own with a gentle smile. “You can tell me, Pinocchio. It’s alright.”
He gulps and nods, his bright eyes shining with relief. “The magic wardrobe could hold two of us. But my father would only give it to the Blue Fairy if I got to be the first one in it, so she had to tell you and King James that it could only fit one.”
Snow inhales stiffly, agony and heartbreak searing hotly through her chest. But she doesn’t want to frighten the helpless child so she pats his hands with thickly muted turmoil, even going so far as to muster another soft smile despite the tears that betray her composure. James could have been with her now, if they had only known.
“I’m sorry, Queen Snow White,” Pinocchio mumbles, sensing her hurt and hurting for her, too. “I really am sorry.” He breaks out into guilty sniffles and she coos at him, shaking her head.
“No, no, Pinocchio- it’s going to be alright. We’ll be alright.” She pulls his head into her chest and runs her fingers through his auburn hair, restraining her own urge to sob. She must be the braver of the two. She must take care of him, for clearly it is what Gepetto wants. And she can’t blame him. “Shh, shh,” she whispers, holding the trembling boy close. “We’ll be alright,” she repeats, more for herself than for him.
“’I’ll be a good boy,” he whimpers, “I promise.”
“Oh, Pinocchio, I know you will be,” Snow assures him. “You already are a good boy.”
For a while the two remain motionless, holding each other fearfully as if clinging to the last remnant of their former lives. But Snow White knows they cannot remain in these woods forever, so at length they rise and, hand in hand, make for the nearest sign of civilization. Snow doesn’t know what they’ll find outside these woods- or if there is an outside to these woods- but it’s her duty to carry her daughter to safety and set everything aright so she has to try. This battle is between her and Regina and every single casualty, however big or small, Snow sees as her own fault. So she owes it to the whole kingdom to restore the happy endings and end the fight against evil once and for all. Or at least ensure the safety of the one person who can.
Suddenly a great whirring sound is heard in the near distance and both travelers are seized with fear. They move forward slowly, inch by inch, sharing glances of trepidation and caution as they clench each other’s hands, until Pinocchio lurches to an unprecedented stop when the sound gets nearer. He looks at Snow with big eyes and lets go of her hand.
“Queen Snow White, you can’t get hurt,” he stammers, lifting a finger to point at her swelling belly. “You’re carrying the savior!” After a pause he swallows and says, seriously, “I’ll go ahead and see what the noise is. I’ll tell you if it’s safe.”
“Pinocchio, we’ll go together. Please, I can’t let you put yourself in danger for my sake.”
“It isn’t for your sake,” he corrects with a shake of his head, pointing again at her belly. “It’s for hers.”
Snow White sighs and wraps a protective arm around her stomach. “We’re in this together, Pinocchio. But… if it would make you feel better, I’ll walk behind you.” She can see the conviction in the boy’s eyes and knows bargaining at this point will get her farther than arguing.
He considers this and then nods, sweeping around and continuing his gingerly pace toward the sound. She gives him a few paces head start and then trails after him, heartbeat racing as the edge of the wood looms into view. It turns out they were far closer than they thought.
The powerful rushing sound seems to be coming from a wide stone path, upon which fiercely rapid wheeled contraptions ride. They are going so fast that neither Snow nor Pinocchio can rightly identify their make, so they merely stand at the side of this path, aghast. Pinocchio seeks Snow’s hand once more, and she holds it tightly as they both stare ahead.
“Let’s go,” she says, quietly, and the two begin to cross the path.
Across the way Snow sees a large structure, around which are scattered some people wearing strange garments. These people stop what they’re doing and gaze curiously at Snow and Pinocchio, so much so that when the two make it across Snow is not sure she sees any of them breathing.
“You guys come from a ren-faire or something?” one of them says, quirking a brow.
Snow and Pinocchio exchange quizzical looks. “We come from far away,” Snow supplies, humbly. After an uncomfortable silence she adds, “Do you know of any place we can stay? We are both very tired and hungry. Only… we have no money.”
“No money… o-kay. Yeah, there’s a homeless shelter not too far from here. Need a lift?”
“A what?”
The man eyes her suspiciously. “Not from around here. Right,” he mutters to himself with a shake of his head. “Come on, follow me.”
He leads them behind the building to one of those large wheel-machines that Snow and Pinocchio saw earlier. His has a dip in the back, though, where some of the others they’d seen didn’t. Perhaps it is broken. “Is it safe?” she asks, keeping a distance.
“The truck? Yeah, ‘course! Go on, get in the back,” he says, lifting Pinocchio into the back of this “truck” and aiding Snow to get up into it as well. “I’ll drive real slow,” he promises, looking at Snow White’s belly. “Wouldn’t want to be upsetting the little nugget in there! Say, what’re your names?”
Snow’s mind quivers as she struggles to come up with an answer to that question. They couldn’t very well use their real names in this world. “I’m Mary-Margaret,” she says, in honor of her mother. “And this is…” her eyes dart around and she sees the trees wilting under the promise of winter. “…August.”
The man tips his hat. “Nice to meet you, Mary-Margaret and August. I’m Jim. Alright, hang tight!”
“It’s very nice to meet your acquaintance, J- ah!” Snow tries to be polite but within seconds she’s tumbling on top of Pinocchio, not fully expecting the “truck” to move so quickly so soon. She feels slightly nauseated at first, and she can tell Pinocchio does too, but in time their eyes and stomachs adjust and they’re able to peer out at this new world passing before their eyes.
It is so teasingly familiar and yet- and yet so terrifyingly alien.
Everything they know, everyone they love, every comfort of their world, is gone.
Gone.
It took twenty years to find true love, nine months to carry its gift, and just seconds to lose it all.