#He’s also being dramatic they eased up eventually. enough for Robin to give them space to get their rocks off anyway | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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prank gone wrong (viral!) (steddie)

Eddie’s been someone’s dirty little secret before.

He’s got a type, okay? Unfortunately hot jocks are often the type of asshole to get sucked off behind the bleacher and then turn around and spit in his face about it. Going right back to their friends to talk shit about what a freak Eddie is, never mind the fact that his mouth still tastes like their nasty fucking jizz. He’s used to it by now. Used to people who pretend they barely know each other. He’s not asking they parade their relationship for the whole town to see, just someone who doesn’t pretend they’re strangers. Is that too much to ask?

He’s so fucking stupid. He really thought this time would be different.

Steve Harrington barreled into his life like a goddamn train and Eddie’s been derailed ever since.

The first time he met Steve he was six. Eddie still lived with his mom, and she took him to the park, where he met a little boy who wrinkled his nose and told him he smelled bad. Steve does not remember this, and turned red with mortification the first time Eddie told him

After that incredible hit to baby Eddie’s self-esteem, they didn’t interact much, existing on the periphery of each others lives. He figured it didn’t matter. Harrington was a year under him, and a douche besides. Was ready to leave town from the moment he learned to walk. As soon as he graduated, he could finally get the hell out of this place and never think about the assholes he went to school with again.

His mom leaves. His dad gets arrested. He moves in with his Uncle Wayne, who only has one bedroom in his trailer and won’t take no for an answer when he gives it to Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t graduate.

(Harrington comes back to school different after Byers beats him up. Eddie doesn’t notice. He’s got bigger things to worry about.)

They don’t talk in Eddie’s second run of senior year either. He hears the gossip, sees him come to school with stitches in his forehead and no girlfriend. Still, it’s none of his damn business. He rolls his eyes at the rumors and stays far away from Billy Hargrove.

Steve Harrington graduates. Eddie doesn’t.

And this is where his careful distance falls apart.

It’s the mall’s fault of course. What isn’t? Businesses closing down, rent going up, his resolve crumbling. All over some fucking ice cream. God, Eddie should have just turned around. Left the store and the mall and the entire damn town behind.

He’s aware he’s being melodramatic, but in his defense he’s queer in Indiana. He has a right to be.

Anyways, the point is that Eddie saw Harrington’s little blue shorts and red lips and cannot be held responsible for what happened after.

(They fucked. That’s what happened. They fucked, and kept fucking, and then after the mall burned down Steve showed up on his doorstep with suspiciously placed bruises and his coworker and looked at Eddie with pleading eyes. He didn’t even bring Robin home to her parents like a sensible person, just insisted on having her there because they were a package deal now and couldn’t be separated. Like puppies, Robin said when he looked at her. Last he checked, she wanted to bite Steve’s head off, and now they were attached at the hip?

He got used to it quickly. He had to. She comes on half their dates. Steve’s lucky he’s so cute.)

Now, nearly five months after Steve served him ice cream for the first time, he feels his heart shatter in the Hawkins High parking lot.

“Harrington,” Dustin shouts, and it carries across the empty lot. Steve’s head jerks up and he waves, Robin standing beside him. “Steve, c’mere!”

Steve tilts his head. “What?”

“Come. Here.” Dustin repeats, enunciating clearly. Mike and Lucas look at him like he’s insane. So do Gareth, Jeff, and Chuck.

Steve, who is standing a mere 20 feet away, turns to Robin and says something that makes her snort. Eddie can practically hear his bitchy murmur.

“Is that Harrington’s girlfriend?” He hears Gareth ask. He has to swallow his laughter.

“Yes,” Dustin says.

“No,” Mike corrects.

“He won’t admit anything, but he always has a bunch of hickies and stuff after hanging out with her,” Lucas clarifies, because half the time when Steve says he’s hanging out with Robin he's actually with Eddie. The fact that Robin is usually still there is irrelevant. Marking up his boyfriend is one of his favorite pastimes. He refuses to let his boyfriend’s “soulmate” get in the way just because she refuses to sleep in one of the Harrington’s fancy guest rooms like a normal person unless he kicks her out. The way they both pout at him for it is fucking ridiculous. He ends up giving in half the time, and then lies awake and cold on the very edge of the bed because Robin starfishes her way across the rest and Steve is a blanket hog.

The first time he tried giving Steve a hickey as some kind of dominance move for privacy, Robin stared him dead in the eye and didn’t back down.

“I can do that too,” she said, and promptly bit Steve on the shoulder. Steve, who was shirtless and already slightly dazed from Eddie’s ministrations, let out an honest to God squeak. Like a dog toy. Eddie and Robin both stared at him before breaking into loud cackles that had a blushing Steve yelling at them before finally burrowing under the covers and refusing to come out. Needless to say, Eddie didn’t get laid that night.

“Harring-ton,” Dustin whines.

“I’m literally right here. You come here.”

He did, if only to grab Steve by the wrist and drag him to where everyone else was standing. Steve squawks. “When we’re late for dinner with Ma, I’m telling her it was your fault—“

“I want you to meet everyone!”

“I went to school with them!”

“Yeah, but they think you’re still a dick,” he says, as if they’re not standing right there. Steve is similarly engrossed in their conversation, not even noticing that Dustin’s stopped walking.

“They can think whatever—“ he walks right into Eddie and lets out a startled oof. Eddie, who let it happen, catches him as he flails.

“Well hello to you too,” he says, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Steve looks at him with wide eyes, gaze dropping down to his lips before whirling around and snapping, “Henderson!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lucas mimics under his breath, ducking behind Steve when Dustin turns around with the fury of a thousand suns in his eyes.

He just stands there, hands on his hips as the kids bicker around him.

“Oh, so now we can talk?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, brow furrowed like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s talking about.

Eddie can’t help but laugh, a sharp sound that makes Steve jump. “What do you think it means, Harrington? You never want to talk to me in front of the kids! Don’t want to dirty your hands with the Freak in public, I guess.”

“I…what are you talking about?”

[no talkie henderosn]

“What?” His eyes get wide, panicked, as he reaches for Eddie. “Eddie, that’s not—you have to know that’s not what I meant by that. I never meant it like that!”

“Then how did you mean it?”

Steve mumbles something he can’t make out.

“Speak up, sweetheart.” It comes out mean, he knows it does, but he’s feeling a little mean right now. Lashing out like a wounded animal just because his boyfriend didn’t want to talk to him in public.

Actually, when he puts it that way, he remembers he’s justified.

Steve says something again, still incomprehensible. Eddie rolls his eyes. “If you can’t stop mumbling, I’ll just leave.”

That does the trick. “I thought we were playing a prank on Henderson together!”

Eddie gapes at him. “What?”

“I thought,” he repeats, running an anxious hand through his hair, “we were pretending not to know each other to mess with the kid. Eddie, baby, you’ve gotta know I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were hurting. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t I…” This can’t be real. He’s been agonizing for months, and for what? A prank? Just some stupid, shitty prank Steve thought he was in on? He’s going to jump off the quarry. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have had so much fun with that!”

“I thought you knew!”

“How would I have known? I can’t read your mind!”

“You can sometimes,” he says, pouting. Eddie wishes they weren’t in the middle of an argument, he wants to kiss those lips so bad.

He groans into his hands. “It’s significantly easier to tell when your boyfriend wants to fuck than it is to read ‘Hey, let’s play a prank on this twelve year old,’ on someone’s face, sweetheart.”

“I guess,” Steve huffs. Then his face softens. Eddie lets himself be drawn in by the wrist, helpless in the face of his sweet smile. “We can stop,” he promises, swaying in close enough for his breath to ghost across Eddie’s lips. “We could walk into Hellfire tomorrow holding hands, if you wanted to. Anything you want, just say the word.”

“How would we walk into Hellfire? It’s at your house.”

Steve pinches him for that.

#prank gone wrong (viral!) au #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steddie #i Did not end up writing the actual scene where Steve decides to prank Dustin by pretending to hate eddie #But just so you know he looks at Eddie and raises his eyebrows and in Eddie’s mind he’s asking how they should play this #in Steve’s mind he’s asking a series of convoluted questions that end ideally end with Dustin ripping his hair out in frustration #Steve I’m sorry but you need to use your WORDS your boyfriend things you HATE HIM #this goes from pre-s4 to post-s4 btw #Featuring stobin being weird as fuck friends bc I feel like they would Not Be Separated for the first couple of months after Starcourt #Eddie just has to deal with that #He’s also being dramatic they eased up eventually. enough for Robin to give them space to get their rocks off anyway

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huffleporg · 6 years

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By Starlight - A CS AU

Chapter 1 - The Dowager | 1/20? | T | Ao3

Princess Lessons and Astronomy were two classes Emma Swan had not planned to take, but these days surprises are far too common in her life.

Ships: Captain Swan, Frozen Swan friendship, Outlaw Queen background

Characters: Emma Swan, Killian Jones, Regina Mills, Elsa, Robin Hood, David, Mr. Gold, Neal, Anna, Liam Jones

---

It felt like the alarm went off earlier and earlier each day, and each day it was easier and easier to hit the snooze button. Emma stared at the red digits through a curtain of tangled blonde hair and swore. She had been sure that she had only hit snooze once, but already it had turned 6:50.

Emma pushed herself up slowly. “Another day,” she mumbled, as she reached for her thick glasses on her bedside table. “Another potential disaster.” She threw the covers off and slunk out of bed and to the closet. She grabbed the first flannel shirt her hand made contact with and tugged a pair of used blue jeans out from under a sleeping tabby cat. “Sorry, Henry,” she said, giving the now disgruntled cat a pat. “Got a social studies presentation today. Need all the help I can get.” She wasn’t superstitious, at least, but if the jeans she wore when she had passed the driving test and when she had gotten that “A” on her Bio final last year could help, she was going to wear them.

Taking the rest of the clothes she would need with her, Emma hurried into the bathroom to quickly change. After a less than a minute of undressing and putting on her clothes, she ran a comb through her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. She gave her reflection in the mirror only the briefest of glances before saying, “Good as it’s gonna get,” and turning around to leave the bathroom. On her way out of her room, she grabbed her red backpack from her desk chair.

Walking into the kitchen, Emma saw her father’s back at the stove. “No time for pancakes!” she said, opening the cabinet. She took a silver wrapped pair of pop-tarts out of the box. “Got to run.” She rushed over to give her father a goodbye kiss, only to find him staring disapprovingly at her choice of breakfast.

“I’d really you’d rather have something proper to eat,” David Swan said. “If not pancakes, how about cereal.” He went over to the cabinet to where the boxes of cereal were kept.

Emma shook her head. “I’ve got to meet Elsa. I’m already running late.” She knew that Elsa and Anna wouldn’t mind her being a couple of minutes late for their carpool, but Killian Jones was another story entirely.

Defeated, David took a banana from the fruit bowl and handed it to his daughter. “To put my mind at ease that you’ll at least have something healthy.”

Emma rolled her eyes but took the banana from her father. “Fine. Bye,” she said, starting to head to the front door.

“Don’t forget,” called out David after his daughter, “your grandmother wants you to go and see her after school.”

“Step-grandmother,” corrected Emma, popping her head back into the kitchen. She wasn’t even sure if she ought to call Regina that. In the past seventeen years, Emma doubted that she had even seen the woman seventeen times, and on none of those occasions had she behaved the way a grandmother - step or not - ought to. As far as Emma was concerned, she had one grandmother - Grandma Ruth - and one stranger who had married her grandfather, who was also very much a stranger to Emma. “Did she say what she wanted?”

David went back to mixing pancake batter. “I didn’t ask. But she’s family, and she wants to see you.”

Emma let out a sigh and fiddled with the tightening strap of her backpack. “Fine.” She didn’t really have time to argue with her father.

“And be nice,” he added with a sigh. “She just lost her husband.”

Emma glanced up at her father, suddenly getting why her father was suddenly so sympathetic to a woman he otherwise considered odious. Though Emma saw no similarities between her father and step-grandmother, she could see how her father might somehow feel that Regina’s situation was like the one he had been in sixteen years ago. Unexpectedly without a spouse. Alone and grief-stricken. The comparisons could be drawn, Emma admitted. But her mother’s car accident at the age of twenty-six leaving behind a baby and loving husband hardly seemed equal in tragedy as her grandfather dropping dead from a heart attack at seventy-seven.

“Okay,” she said, offering her father a reassuring smile. “I’ll be good.”

The father and daughter exchanged parting nods before she opened the door. As quickly as possible in combat boots, Emma ran down the three flights of stairs and out into the mid-September day. She ran to Elsa’s blue prius, not bothering to check her watch to see just how late she was.

As she opened the car door, she was greeted simultaneously with a, “Morning!” from Elsa and Anna, and a, “Finally” from Killian. Emma said, “Sorry I’m late,” and slid into the backseat across from Killian.

“No worries, we’ll be right on time!” said Elsa, starting to back the car up out of its parking space.

“Unless the construction on Fifth Street is still going on,” countered Killian, looking up from his copy of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde to give Emma an annoyed look.

“Ignore Mr. Grumpy,” suggested Anna brightly from the front passenger seat, as she finished applying her lip gloss.

Emma let out a laugh and said, “Oh, I do.” She gave Killian a smirk before buckling her belt, glad that she could sit and not hurry for the next twenty minutes. Of course, Killian had already gone back to reading his book, so he completely missed her look. While some people in the minutes before the school day might trying to skim over pages they should have read the night before, Emma knew Killian well enough to be confident that this was a book he was reading for his own enjoyment. No doubt whatever book the seniors were reading in Honors English was one that he had read years before.

Realizing that she had been staring at Killian for several minutes lost in thought, Emma looked to the front of the car, trying to catch up to the conversation the two sisters were engaged in.

“--And I know it’s fast,” Anna was saying, cheeks turning pink, “but he wants to meet mom and dad.” She let out a sigh and leaned back against the back of her seat. “Oh, Elsa, I really do think I’m in love with Hans.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose. It wasn’t surprising that Anna, the girl who watched romantic comedies almost exclusively, had found someone to fall in love with less than two weeks after starting high school. What was so surprising was the person Anna had become enamored with.

Without even taking her eyes off the road, “You can’t be in love with someone you just met,” said Elsa matter-of-factly. She turned into the school parking lot and began to search for an empty spot.

Nodding in agreement, Emma leaned forward and said, “You don’t really know each other yet.” Emma barely knew the senior, and she couldn’t stand him. Emma struggled to understand how Anna could not see beyond the boy's charming exterior to realize that everything underneath it was all just an act.

Unexpectedly from the backseat, “Hans is a cad and swarmy worm. You deserve better,” said Killian, putting his book away.

Emma turned to glance over at the person she had thought was even less aware of the conversation the sisters were having than she was, surprised that he was even offering an opinion, much less support of Anna. Emma supposed that years of being neighbors and a year and a half of carpooling two and from school with her sister might have made Killian feel protective of Anna, but she hadn’t even thought before today that he cared much for the talkative girl.

The car slowed as Elsa pulled into a parking spot.

There was a click of belts being unbuckled, and Anna practically leapt out of the car, cheeks burning before dashing off towards the building.

“And look,” said Elsa with a sigh, “Hans is waiting for her.” She shook her head and got out of the car. “I don’t like him at all.”

Emma and Killian followed suit stepping out of the car. “He’ll show his true colors eventually,” said Emma softly, “and you’ll be there for Anna with hot cocoa. I’ll bring the cinnamon.” She didn’t understand how people could drink hot chocolate without cinnamon. It seemed so completely bland to her.

The three started to walk to the school building.

“Oh, Elsa, before I forget,” said Emma, “Regina’s in town, and she wants to see me, so don’t wait around for me after school.” She knew that her step-grandmother would be sending a chauffeur to pick her up, like she always did.

Elsa gave Emma a sympathetic smile. “Okay. Text me when you get back home.” As they entered the building, Elsa caught sight of the clock on the wall. “See,” she said turning to Killian with a teasing smile, “eight minutes to spare. Told you I’d get us here on time.” She gave Emma and Killian a wave before heading to Physics on the second floor.

Before Emma could part ways with Killian and go to her locker, he said softly, “So… what’s so fascinating about me this morning that you couldn’t stop looking at me.”

Emma faced him, annoyed to see his smug expression. She folded her arms. “I wasn’t looking at you. I was looking through you while thinking about my presentation. Sorry. Next time I have to stare off into space, I’ll make sure my gaze isn’t directed anywhere near you.” She could feel the back of her neck growing hot, but she wasn’t about to let Killian think that she had been staring at him and thinking about him. That would only go to his head.

“Oh, I’m gutted, Swan.” He clutched his hand to his heart dramatically. “Completely and utterly gutted.”

“You’ll live,” muttered Emma, turning away from him to head to class. She didn’t have time to deal with Killian and his antics, and she was fairly sure that he had better things to do than annoy her. As she turned the corner, she quickly glanced over to see Killian’s retreating form. She bit her lip. She didn’t have time for this.

***

The nausea still hadn’t abated by the time that the black Lincoln Town car pulled up in front of the student pick-up area at three, drawing a few stares and murmurs from her school mates. Even during prom season, limos of any variety were a very rare sight in Storybrooke. For the second time today, embarrassment washed over Emma. As if it wasn’t bad enough to have gotten sick while trying to give her presentation, a black limo complete with magnetic little flags saying “diplomat” had to pick her up barely over an hour later. Not wanting to stand around on the curb hearing people’s confusion and speculation in the background for a minute longer, Emma threw open the door and climbed inside, cheeks burning red.

“Good afternoon, Emma,” said the man in the front seat.

“Hey Robin,” she said to her step-grandmother’s personal assistant. “Didn’t know you moonlighted as a chauffeur.” All the other times that her grandmother had had her get picked up, a professional driver had been the one to do it.

“Your grandmother wanted me to drive you myself,” explained Robin, looking at Emma’s reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Huh. Cool,” she said, not really all that interested. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the back of the front seats. “Say, do you have any gum?” The water from the fountain at school wasn’t going to cut it when it came to washing the taste of her failure out of her mouth.

Robin opened the glove compartment and rifled around for a few seconds. “Best I can do is a mint.” He held out the red and white striped peppermint to Emma.

“It’ll do,” she said, taking it from Robin’s hand. Emma leaned back in her seat and began to unwrap the candy. As the limo started to pull away from the curb, Emma popped the mint in her mouth. The school began to vanish from sight, obscured pine trees.

The next half-hour passed largely in silence, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on Emma’s part. Every question she asked Robin was answered with only a few words or a nod. Only when she asked if he could turn the radio on did she get an actual answer - he disliked American music. If she had been traveling to any destination other than a visit with her step-grandmother, Emma might have been relieved when they pulled up in front of the fancy, gated building in Portland perched up on a hill, but instead, Emma was ready to get back in the car and endure another half-hour with Robin.

Regardless, Emma got out of the limo and followed Robin down the entry way and into the elevators to the top floor of the building. As the elevator ascended several floors, Emma fiddled with the button the sleeve of her shirt, looking down at her scuffed boots. In a building where everything was gilded, it was hard not to feel shabby, even in the elevator.

At the top floor, she let Robin show her to Regina’s suite, even though there was only one suite on the whole floor. She had found that out the last time she had been brought to see Regina. Before Robin and Emma reached the large red door, it swung open, revealing a smartly dressed man in black. As they entered the suite passing by the man, Emma caught sight of a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. Before she could ask just who the man was, she was already being ushered into another room with a large window looking out over the city.

“Your grandmother will be in in a minute,” a voice said.

Emma turned around to see a thin man with salt and pepper hair sitting at a desk.

The man got to her feet and walked over. “I’m Sydney Glass,” he said. “Your grandmother’s personal assistant.”

The teenager blinked. “I thought Robin was her personal assistant,” she said, glancing around the lavishly decorated room to see that Robin had vanished.

Sydney let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “No, that’s my job. I’ve been her assistant for years. I’m sorry we’ve never met before, Emma.” He offered her hand. “Truly an honor.”

“Thanks?” Emma said, cautiously reaching out to shake the stranger’s hand. “So that makes Robin…”

“Her bodyguard.”

Instantly, Emma’s eyebrows rose. Before she could ask Sydney if she was pulling her leg, she caught sight of Regina standing in the doorway that led deeper into the suite.

“Emma.”

Emma hated how Regina said her name, annunciating every syllable, dwelling over her name. “Grandmother,” she said, barely managing a smile. “Been a while.” She laced her hands together awkwardly. “Um… like… two years?” She dragged her boot against the floor, desperately trying to think of what she should say. Should she comment on Regina’s pant suit? No, that would probably spark either a long discussion about some designer Emma had never heard of or else prompt Regina to comment on Emma’s own choice of wardrobe. Anything involving clothing was not a safe subject. The weather? No, that would only cause Regina to wax poetic about how beautiful it was in Misthaven this time of year - it was supposedly beautiful in Misthaven no matter what time of year it was, according to Regina - and how terrible it always was in Maine. That would just be annoying to hear again.

“Yes, it has been a while, hasn’t it,” said Regina, coming into the room properly. She held herself high and strode gracefully over to a table set out in the middle of the room with a white, lace tablecloth. She smiled at Emma. “You’ve grown. Almost a woman.”

Not sure if she ought to join her step-grandmother at the table, Emma stood where she had been by the window. “Umm… well I turn seventeen in October.”

Sydney felt no such hesitation and went over to pull the chair out for Regina to sit in.

“October 23rd,” Regina said. “Just a few weeks away.” She sat down and glanced at her step-granddaughter as Sydney scuttled away out of the room. “Surprised I remember?”

Did the woman want an honest answer? “The birthday card did come a little late last year,” she said, “but no… I guess not.” It wasn’t like she was always on top of making sure things were in by the deadline. She had submitted far too many papers after the day it was due for anyone to think that she was punctual when it came to work.

“I was there when you were born,” continued Regina. “Well not in the room. But I was there. Met you when you were less than an hour old.”

Emma frowned and took a couple of steps closer to the table in the center of the room. It had been years since she had asked her father about the day she had been born, and what she remembered from the story - a young husband and wife so happy to be becoming parents, and her so eager to meet them that she hadn’t waited for the hospital - didn’t feature her step-grandmother coming in.

“You were actually born in Misthaven. Did you know that?”

“Um, yeah, actually,” she said. “To get my driver’s license I needed my birth certificate.” She had known before then, though she couldn’t remember her father ever actually telling her about it. It had just been something she had always known. A good part of the first year of her life had been spent in Misthaven, the country where her mother had grown up.

For a fraction of a second, Regina looked disappointed, but before Emma could ask why she was mentioning all this now, Sydney returned to the room, pushing an antique tea cart.

As Sydney set the teapot and teacups on the table, Regina said, “Do sit down, Emma. And please avoid scuffing up the floor with your boots.” It came out almost as a sigh.

Emma didn’t wait for Sydney to pull the chair out for her. She interrupted the man as he reached to take the chair out and help her sit down, the way he had helped Regina. She sat down and scooted the chair forward. The resulting scrape was enough to make her step-grandmother wince.

Sydney started to pour tea for the both of them.

“None for me,” said Emma, putting her hand over the cup that was clearly meant for her.

“You don’t have to drink it, Emma,” said Regina with a patient smile, “but it’s polite to accept it.”

Emma took her hand back, and Sydney finished pouring the tea. Emma accepted the cup that the personal assistant offered her, wishing it were coffee.

His task done, Sydney left the room.

Regina picked up the cup and brought it to her lips. She sipped almost soundlessly.

Emma swirled the tea in her cup.

“You look quite like your mother, you know,” said Regina suddenly.

Emma looked up. “I’ve been told.” Though her coloring took after her father, from the pictures she had seen of her mother, she was a dead ringer for her.

“How much do you know about your mother, Emma?”

“She met my dad in college. She was studying Environmental and Political Sciences. She came from Misthaven. She and my dad got married shortly after graduation,” Emma said, not sure what Regina was getting at.

“So you know about her life as far as it concerned your father.”

“I guess.”

“How much do you know about her childhood? About her family? Your family.”

With a shrug of her shoulders, Emma said, “Not all that much?” Her voice raised a little high, uncertainty creeping in. “Her mother died when she was still in elementary school. Her father married you not long after.” Her father hadn’t exactly told her much. She had asked, but she had never really gotten any answers, and eventually she had just learned to stop asking. She knew it pained her father to talk about her mother, and she didn’t like to see him in that kind of distress. Besides, there were so many questions she wanted to ask about her mother that Emma knew her father couldn’t answer.

“So hardly anything,” said Regina, straightening up. The smallest smirk displaced the scar on the older woman’s lip.

Emma picked a sugar cube out of the sugar bowl and put it in her mouth. Even if sugar was supposedly the Devil when it came to health these days, Emma knew that it would be better than one of those dry, crumbling tea cakes her step-grandmother insisted on serving every time she came over.

“Would you like to learn about her?”

She made a sharp intake of breath that left her coughing. For a several dry, agonizing moments, Emma coughed, feeling her eyes watering. Seeing no other way out, she reached for the tea cup and took a sip. Though the liquid hurt going down, it was better than coughing on the sugar cube. Taking several unobstructed breaths, Emma set the cup back down on its apple blossom patterned saucer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes, but…” Emma voice trailed off. Her father had told her many times before that her mother and Regina hadn’t gotten along well at all, which made Emma wonder just how accurate anything Regina said could be. Certainly anything that her father said would be closer to the truth, even if it was just a guess.

“I shouldn’t have to be the one to tell you about her,” said Regina. “You should have grown up knowing your mother.”

Emma bent her head, staring at the reddish-brown tea, suddenly finding the apple blossom and buds at the bottom of the cup much easier to look at than Regina. She had thought that herself so many times over the years, but somehow hearing Regina say it made her want to squirm.

“It is a terrible shame that the accident took her away from us… from all of us.” Regina let out a sigh. “She was a beloved princess, and they say she would made an exceptional queen.”

Confused, Emma frowned, trying to follow Regina’s logic. She searched the older woman’s expression for some kind of hint, but finding no other explanations for Regina’s word choice, all Emma could do was ask, “Metaphorically?”

“No, Emma,” said Regina. “You should have been told years ago. Your mother was the crown princess, heir to the throne of Misthaven, a kingdom her family - your family - has ruled over for hundreds of years. A kingdom that is now rulerless.”

Dumbfounded, Emma stared at her step-grandmother, squinting hard. There was nothing she could manage to say or do other than just gape. It was as if her brain had run full force into a white wall thirty stories tall and wide. Sheer shock immobilized her.

“Given how easy it is to find out information these days, I must admit that I am a little bit surprised you weren’t aware. All it takes is a few clicks and you have more information than anyone could ever possibly want about any topic, including your mother and her family.”

Unable to process what Regina was saying now, instead Emma spluttered, “Seriously?”

Regina fell silent, finally giving Emma a minute to think.

“You can’t expect me to believe that,” said Emma, finding herself speaking out loud. “That my mother was a princess. Are you filming this?” She glanced around looking for cameras, her stomach suddenly turning over as a fresh wave of nausea hit her. “Is this some kind of prank?” There didn’t seem to be any cameras, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t some kind of prank going on.

“It is the truth,” said Regina. “Your mother was a princess, the only child of King Leopold and Queen Eva. The only child of King Leopold for that matter.”

The words were ones that Emma had learned long ago, but she struggled to find any sense in them. “I don’t,” she stammered. “That’s not-”

“Mary Margaret was supposed to take over the throne when her father died,” continued Regina, as if oblivious to her perplexed step-granddaughter, “but as you know, your mother died young, and your grandfather, my husband, had no other heir. Now that he’s gone, that leaves you.”

Emma blinked, leaning back in her chair, “Me? Why me?”

Frustration wrinkled the woman’s unnaturally young forehead for a moment. “Because, you’re the last Blanchard.” Each word seemed to be holding back something. Anger? Annoyance? Emma was well beyond being able to tell. “You are the only princess left of Misthaven, and when you come of age, you will be our Queen.”

Slowly, Emma shook her head, mouth hanging open mutely.

“Emma.”

“No. You’re wrong,” Emma protested.

Regina let out a shallow laugh and shook her head. “Believe me, if there were another viable option for my country, I would be having tea with them, and not you, but unfortunately, the ruler must be of royal blood.”

“I’m not a princess.”

The dowager queen gave a small, smug smile and said, “Your ancestry disagrees.”

Without any warning, Emma could feel it coming up, bubbling to the surface. She shot up from her chair. “I am not a princess,” Emma repeated. “Either you’re delusional, or you’ve got a sick sense of humor. And I don’t want any part of that.” She took a step backwards, knocking over her chair. As it clattered to the floor and Regina flinched, Emma saw her chance. She ran.

The entry room was a blur of gold and confusion as she hurried out. She threw all of her weight against the heavy doors leading out of the suite, ignoring the shouts behind her. She was past the point of caring. Knowing better than to wait for the elevator allowing herself to get stopped by one of those men in suits and be dragged, Emma headed straight for the stairs. She dashed down several steps at a time, her footsteps echoing loudly in the stairwell. A couple of clatter-filled minutes later, and Emma was opening the door to the atrium and Italian marble floors. She hurried past the front desk. The revolving door slowed down her escape, but only for a moment.

Breaking out into the cooling evening air, Emma started running again. She couldn’t run all the way home, she knew, but if she put in enough distance between herself and this insanity, she could call Elsa. Elsa would come and find her, wherever she was. After dashing through several city blocks and crossing a couple of streets after barely looking to see if any cars were approaching, Emma began to feel the sharp grab at her side. “Fuck,” she wheezed, slowing her sprint down to a slow limp. She had no idea how far or how fast she had run, but she was fairly sure that it was further and faster than any gym teacher had ever been able to convince her to go.

She rubbed her side and took a few deep breaths, glancing around. When she spotted the bench at the bus shelter, Emma walked over, wincing as she went. She sat down heavily on the blue metal mesh bench and pulled out her phone from her flannel’s front pocket. With a few clicks, she brought up Elsa’s contact info. “Come on Elsa,” she murmured as the phone rang. “Pick up.” Uncharacteristically, the phone kept ringing until finally, “I’m sorry that I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you shortly!” played.

Without any hesitation, Emma redialed Elsa, only again to find the same pre-recorded message instead of her friend. “Elsa, where are you?” she whispered. Usually, Elsa was the sort of person who picked up immediately. Even though only a handful of people had her number and she was rarely contacted on her phone by those select few, Elsa rarely left texts unanswered for longer than a couple of minutes or let the phone ring for long.

Call me ASAP Emma texted. I need your help.

When she looked up from her phone, she jumped a little. Parked right where a city bus should have been was a black limo, driver’s window rolled down to reveal a bearded face peering out at her through black sunglasses.

“You followed me,” said Emma accusatorily.

“I protect the royal family of Misthaven,” Robin said. “Following you is part of my job now.” He gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “And you forgot your bag.”

Emma got to her feet, wincing as her side protested. She walked slowly to the curb. “Look, I’ve had enough about this royal thing,” she said. “I’m not going back there. And I don’t want to hear anything about princesses or kings or--”

“Please,” Robin interrupted, holding out his hand. “I’m not going to take you back to the Queen. I’m here to take you home.”

Tucking her chin down to better stare through Robin’s sunglasses, Emma frowned. His face was honest. It didn’t look like he was lying to her, but Emma had been wrong before. “If you make the turn to go to her instead of to the highway, I’m calling 9-1-1 to report my kidnapping,” Emma said after several moments of considering Robin’s expression. “In fact-” she brought up the dial pad on her phone and pressed nine before showing it to him, “just a precaution.”

Robin blinked. “Do I look like a kidnapper?”

“I could see your face on a wanted poster,” Emma said simply before opening the front passenger door.

“Princess-”

Emma held up a hand. “I don’t want any of that. No ‘Princess’, no ‘your Majesty’, no--”

“Your Highness is the appropriate term for a princess.”

“Really? What did I just say?” Emma glowered at her step-grandmother’s body guard. “It’s Emma. Just Emma.” Whatever titles her step-grandmother and her minions insisted that she had, Emma knew that none of them applied to her. American girls in combat boots and thick glasses didn’t come with titles. Titles of books they needed to read for English class or maybe titles of term papers that were a few days overdue, but nothing akin to “Princess.”

“Of course,” he said, pausing, “Emma.”

Emma wished she had the energy to offer him a smile in gratitude for giving her this much and for helping her, but all she could manage was a small nod as she climbed into the front seat.

Author’s Notes: Hello and thank you for clicking on this fic that I have been working hard on since October-November 2017! Hard to believe that I'm finally at the point of posting it!

This story has been beta'd by @katealexandra26.

It was originally meant to be a CS Big Bang fic, but I withdrew, which means that I can post this fic a little bit sooner than I thought I would be able to! I do have to thank the CSBB community for helping me with this fic, whether it was sprinting to write it, or coming up with suggestions, or encouraging me to write it at all. A huge shout out goes to the mods of the @captainswanbigbang who worked with me, even if ultimately it didn't work out.

Thank you so much for reading, especially the author's notes. Please let me know what you think!

#ouat #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #cs fanfic #my fic #my writing #by starlight #my fics

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