Happy Holidays, tellshannon815!
Title: The Meaning of Family
Recipient: tellshannon815
Author: Anon
Characters/Pairings: Emma Swan, Regina Mills|The Evil Queen, Henry Mills, Baelfire|Neal Cassidy; small mentions of canon pairings
Spoilers: Up to season 3 but only in regards to backstories
Rating: T
Word Count: 1310
Warnings: none
Summary: Henry, his parents and Christmas in Storybrooke. A mix of angst and fluff.
Author's Notes: Seasonal story. AU that disregards most of the happenings of season 3. Especially the mid-season finale.
"What was the Christmas like when you were a kid?"
Emma paused in her detangling of the Christmas lights upon hearing Henry's innocent question. Mary Margaret - Emma still slipped into calling her that instead of mum half of the time - had given her and Henry the task of decorating the loft while she and David attended some kind of a meeting. Emma knew that it had something to do with the festival that was being prepared and she gladly took an excuse not to take part.
It wasn't that she hated Christmas - she was no Grinch, thank you very much - but the emphasis on the family and the massive marketing that had always accompanied the holiday had always left her feeling empty and sad. But that wasn't something she wanted to tell Henry who was practically bouncing with excitement at the thought of celebrating Christmas with the whole of his family at last. Organising of which was a logistical nightmare in and of itself.
"It was different each year," she said at last. "I went from one foster home to another often so I never spent Christmas twice in the same place. The basics were the same, though. Decorating the house, preparing the food, sometimes making presents for the foster parents."
"Did you get a lot of presents?"
"No, not really," Emma said shortly. "What's with the third degree, anyway?"
"Nothing," Henry said, shrugging. "I was just curious. Grandma told me they didn't have Christmas in the Enchanted Forest and this is going to be the first one we all spend together as a family. I wanted to know if you had some traditions that we could do?"
"Sorry, kid, but no, I don't. I'm not really big on traditions and stuff."
She hoped he wouldn't be disappointed by that. He was looking forward to this Christmas for obvious reasons and he seemed to make it his personal mission to spread as much cheer and goodwill between his family members as he could.
"That's okay," he told her. "Maybe we could make up one?"
"Sure," she replied. "How about helping Emma out of the lights?" she asked as she raised the tangled cords that had somehow gotten wrapped around her arms and neck. Henry grinned at that and she couldn't help but grin back. Maybe this family Christmas thing wouldn't be so bad, after all.
Eight-year old Regina was holding her father's hand tightly as they went around the square, looking at the stalls and the people milling all around them. Her mother had allowed her to visit the Midwinter Festival in the village after Regina had correctly recited the lineages of all of the current rulers from the Enchanted Forest. The visit was supposed to be a reward for that.
The joy at being allowed to come had been tempered by the fact her mother had refused to go with them. She had more important things to do and Regina suspected it had something to do with mother's magic. The winter solstice was one of the six great magical nights of the year, as her mother had told her once. Those who wanted power would be wise to take advantage of it.
Regina sometimes wondered why power was so important to her mother. It wasn't like they were lacking in something. They lived in comfort and luxury, never going hungry or wanting for anything. She could buy herself a treat at every stall they passed, could probably buy the whole stall but the lack of the second adult hand holding hers ached worse than the one time she had been sick with a cough and a fever.
Regina had to blink away the old memory that had come to her so suddenly. She hadn't considered herself a sentimental person but seeing the way the square was being transformed into a replica of a village festival from the Enchanted Forest did something to her. And maybe it was Henry's inquiry about her previous Christmas experience.
"I would usually visit the festival with my father," she replied to him as they observed the workers. "We would buy some food at the stalls, play some games and then hurry back to the castle to make sure we had time to change for the dinner."
"Did you have a special dinner?"
"In a way, yes, we did," she said, if only because her mother had allowed the castle to be decorated with sprigs of holly and hazel and mistletoe and the smell of freshly cut plants had pleasantly spread everywhere.
"What do you mean, in a way?"
"Henry, you have to understand that there was no Christmas in the Enchanted Forest. We had a festival to celebrate the winter solstice and that the winter was half-way over. It was nothing like it's in this world. No presents or caroling or Santa."
"But you celebrated it with your family, didn't you?"
"Well, yes, we did."
"Then what's the real difference?" Henry asked beaming at her and Regina tentatively smiled back. Really, what was the difference?
"Dad?"
Neal turned when he heard that, already smiling. He had thought that the novelty of being called that would wear off eventually but it had yet to happen. Not that he wanted it to.
"Hey, buddy," he greeted the boy, ruffling his hair. "What's up?"
"Nothing. I just saw you and wanted to say hello," Henry told him a little bashfully and Neal swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat.
"Looking forward to Christmas?" he asked quickly to mask it and Henry nodded, before launching into a retelling of everything he had done to prepare for the upcoming holiday. It was moments like these, when his son was animatedly telling him things that he truly saw himself in the boy. Most of the time he looked more like his grandmother Snow but when he got excited by something, the resemblance to Neal and Neal's father was astounding.
And it wasn't just the gestures and expressions. Neal could still remember his own childhood and the way his father would struggle to make sure they could celebrate the winter solstice properly and to give Neal a nice memory of the day every year. He would let Neal sleep in even if that meant he would have to get up earlier himself to take care of the animals on his own. Then he would give Neal some money - that Rumplestiltskin would have saved up for months - to spend in the village festival. And then they would have a quiet dinner together before his father would make up a story to entertain him until Neal fell asleep.
"Dad? Is something wrong?"
"What? No, I was just remembering something," Neal assured him. "It's this time of the year, you know. Good memories sneak up on you."
"Good memories?" Henry asked and Neal nodded.
"Yeah, good memories."
And maybe that was the way to go in repairing his relationship with his father, to remember the good things, the red flicker of fire in the middle of winter instead of a green glow of a portal in the summer. And maybe he could make some good memories with his son as well.
"Say, Henry. Are the stalls already up?"
"Yes, some of them."
"Then come on. I'll treat you to something. Do you know if they have..."
The Christmas that year was different for Henry Mills. He knew that it took a lot of arguing and compromises but when the Christmas Day came, he was sitting at a table laden with food, his mothers at each side of him and his father sitting across from him and maybe there was a tension in the air but there were also some smiles.
It was a new tradition.
It was a family.
Most of all, it was a good memory.
Recipient: tellshannon815
Author: Anon
Characters/Pairings: Emma Swan, Regina Mills|The Evil Queen, Henry Mills, Baelfire|Neal Cassidy; small mentions of canon pairings
Spoilers: Up to season 3 but only in regards to backstories
Rating: T
Word Count: 1310
Warnings: none
Summary: Henry, his parents and Christmas in Storybrooke. A mix of angst and fluff.
Author's Notes: Seasonal story. AU that disregards most of the happenings of season 3. Especially the mid-season finale.
"What was the Christmas like when you were a kid?"
Emma paused in her detangling of the Christmas lights upon hearing Henry's innocent question. Mary Margaret - Emma still slipped into calling her that instead of mum half of the time - had given her and Henry the task of decorating the loft while she and David attended some kind of a meeting. Emma knew that it had something to do with the festival that was being prepared and she gladly took an excuse not to take part.
It wasn't that she hated Christmas - she was no Grinch, thank you very much - but the emphasis on the family and the massive marketing that had always accompanied the holiday had always left her feeling empty and sad. But that wasn't something she wanted to tell Henry who was practically bouncing with excitement at the thought of celebrating Christmas with the whole of his family at last. Organising of which was a logistical nightmare in and of itself.
"It was different each year," she said at last. "I went from one foster home to another often so I never spent Christmas twice in the same place. The basics were the same, though. Decorating the house, preparing the food, sometimes making presents for the foster parents."
"Did you get a lot of presents?"
"No, not really," Emma said shortly. "What's with the third degree, anyway?"
"Nothing," Henry said, shrugging. "I was just curious. Grandma told me they didn't have Christmas in the Enchanted Forest and this is going to be the first one we all spend together as a family. I wanted to know if you had some traditions that we could do?"
"Sorry, kid, but no, I don't. I'm not really big on traditions and stuff."
She hoped he wouldn't be disappointed by that. He was looking forward to this Christmas for obvious reasons and he seemed to make it his personal mission to spread as much cheer and goodwill between his family members as he could.
"That's okay," he told her. "Maybe we could make up one?"
"Sure," she replied. "How about helping Emma out of the lights?" she asked as she raised the tangled cords that had somehow gotten wrapped around her arms and neck. Henry grinned at that and she couldn't help but grin back. Maybe this family Christmas thing wouldn't be so bad, after all.
Eight-year old Regina was holding her father's hand tightly as they went around the square, looking at the stalls and the people milling all around them. Her mother had allowed her to visit the Midwinter Festival in the village after Regina had correctly recited the lineages of all of the current rulers from the Enchanted Forest. The visit was supposed to be a reward for that.
The joy at being allowed to come had been tempered by the fact her mother had refused to go with them. She had more important things to do and Regina suspected it had something to do with mother's magic. The winter solstice was one of the six great magical nights of the year, as her mother had told her once. Those who wanted power would be wise to take advantage of it.
Regina sometimes wondered why power was so important to her mother. It wasn't like they were lacking in something. They lived in comfort and luxury, never going hungry or wanting for anything. She could buy herself a treat at every stall they passed, could probably buy the whole stall but the lack of the second adult hand holding hers ached worse than the one time she had been sick with a cough and a fever.
Regina had to blink away the old memory that had come to her so suddenly. She hadn't considered herself a sentimental person but seeing the way the square was being transformed into a replica of a village festival from the Enchanted Forest did something to her. And maybe it was Henry's inquiry about her previous Christmas experience.
"I would usually visit the festival with my father," she replied to him as they observed the workers. "We would buy some food at the stalls, play some games and then hurry back to the castle to make sure we had time to change for the dinner."
"Did you have a special dinner?"
"In a way, yes, we did," she said, if only because her mother had allowed the castle to be decorated with sprigs of holly and hazel and mistletoe and the smell of freshly cut plants had pleasantly spread everywhere.
"What do you mean, in a way?"
"Henry, you have to understand that there was no Christmas in the Enchanted Forest. We had a festival to celebrate the winter solstice and that the winter was half-way over. It was nothing like it's in this world. No presents or caroling or Santa."
"But you celebrated it with your family, didn't you?"
"Well, yes, we did."
"Then what's the real difference?" Henry asked beaming at her and Regina tentatively smiled back. Really, what was the difference?
"Dad?"
Neal turned when he heard that, already smiling. He had thought that the novelty of being called that would wear off eventually but it had yet to happen. Not that he wanted it to.
"Hey, buddy," he greeted the boy, ruffling his hair. "What's up?"
"Nothing. I just saw you and wanted to say hello," Henry told him a little bashfully and Neal swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat.
"Looking forward to Christmas?" he asked quickly to mask it and Henry nodded, before launching into a retelling of everything he had done to prepare for the upcoming holiday. It was moments like these, when his son was animatedly telling him things that he truly saw himself in the boy. Most of the time he looked more like his grandmother Snow but when he got excited by something, the resemblance to Neal and Neal's father was astounding.
And it wasn't just the gestures and expressions. Neal could still remember his own childhood and the way his father would struggle to make sure they could celebrate the winter solstice properly and to give Neal a nice memory of the day every year. He would let Neal sleep in even if that meant he would have to get up earlier himself to take care of the animals on his own. Then he would give Neal some money - that Rumplestiltskin would have saved up for months - to spend in the village festival. And then they would have a quiet dinner together before his father would make up a story to entertain him until Neal fell asleep.
"Dad? Is something wrong?"
"What? No, I was just remembering something," Neal assured him. "It's this time of the year, you know. Good memories sneak up on you."
"Good memories?" Henry asked and Neal nodded.
"Yeah, good memories."
And maybe that was the way to go in repairing his relationship with his father, to remember the good things, the red flicker of fire in the middle of winter instead of a green glow of a portal in the summer. And maybe he could make some good memories with his son as well.
"Say, Henry. Are the stalls already up?"
"Yes, some of them."
"Then come on. I'll treat you to something. Do you know if they have..."
The Christmas that year was different for Henry Mills. He knew that it took a lot of arguing and compromises but when the Christmas Day came, he was sitting at a table laden with food, his mothers at each side of him and his father sitting across from him and maybe there was a tension in the air but there were also some smiles.
It was a new tradition.
It was a family.
Most of all, it was a good memory.