Work Text:
“When you know who matters most to you, giving things up, even yourself, doesn’t really feel like a sacrifice.” -Kiera Cass, The Heir
A Few Hours After the Wedding
“You have to give them credit.”
“And why would I do that dear, because they managed to correctly repeat a few words?”
Mary Margaret huffed, managing to look almost as ridiculous as the puffy blue dress she wore, “Because, despite David, Henry, and I’s hesitation, and your… reluctance, they somehow made all this happen. With barely a word they managed to turn us all on our heads.”
The wedding of the decade, a lost, then renounced, princess marrying the second-in-line for the throne.
“Yes well, Regina has always had a knack for going against whatever I say. Why should this be any different?”
“I’d like to think it was more so because they love each other.”
“Love is a weakness. And to base a marriage off of it is foolishness. But then again, what do I know?”
“Snow!” Cora rolled her eyes at the nickname and the obnoxious blonde waving his hands as if he didn’t tower over everyone in the room. “C’mon, picture time!”
“Coming sweetie!” Bleh. Mary Margaret turned back to her frowning counterpart, “All I’m saying is, they managed to turn us all on our heads with barely a word. It’s, it’s admirable really, all the odds were against them and here they are. And with everything Emma’s been through I’m just happy that they didn’t let us stand in the way of their happiness.”
“You overestimate them.” Cora stated.
The older woman blinked as the meek woman she had grown used to the last few months seemed to transform, standing taller, and with a firmness she hadn’t heard cautioned, “And you underestimate them.”
Across the room from atop the makeshift platform green eyes stuck to the pair, ready for metaphorical claws to be drawn. God she wanted a drink.
The actual ceremony hadn’t been too bad, repeating the standard vows her father-in-law read, with barely any room for error. Besides her stuttering every time she looked into brown eyes. Meaning every other word had been a jumbled mess really.
But the months leading up to the wedding were exhausting. If it wasn’t photo calls from sunrise to sunset, it was having to give her input on if the purple or lilac flowers looked better, and even being forced to go through an expedited Naval Officer training, since apparently they couldn’t both wear dresses to their own damn wedding and no consort of the beloved Princess could be a simple bonds woman.
So here she was… Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Storybrooke. Duchess, Lieutenant, wife. The importance of each title in that order.
Like, when did being just Emma Swan turn into a bad thing?
A firm grip on her elbow brought her back to the matter at hand just in time for another flash to blind her. As an assistant ushered away some second cousins family, a gesture disguised as a loving kiss on the cheek instead whispered words of chastisement. “Sulking is distasteful, especially on one’s wedding day.”
“But I’m so good at it.” She whined playfully.
“You could attempt to at least look somewhat happy.”
The wistful tone caught Emma’s attention, making her turn to her wife. Once upon a time she had barely had a friend or penny to her name and here she was with titles, wealth, and a whole new extended family. And a wife.
Her Royal Highness The Princess Regina, and now, Duchess of Storybrooke. The final change that would be made to her title if Emma had anything to say about it.
After 4 months of what she figured included pricked fingers and sore hands, it wasn’t hard to admit the gown was stunning, with its high collar, one of a kind embroidery, alluring yet respectable neckline. It narrowed almost inhumanly so at the waist before flaring out with a 10 foot long train.
The woman wearing it however, was her favorite part. So much so that she could barely stand to look at her, understanding why everyone was so shocked when the brunette had proposed. Emma lifted up her free hand to smooth down a fly away that had managed to escape the intricate updo and tiara. “I am happy.” She said, unhappily.
“Really?” Regina challenged, perfectly plucked eyebrow arched.
“I’m happy that I’m here and I’m happy that you’re here. Everyone else…”
Regina nodded, casting an eye around the room dismissively. “You don’t want our own families at our wedding?”
Emma affirmed, “I could’ve done without them.” It was true. Mary Marg- her mother had been insufferable the whole time, and she could do without the Queen and Zelena, The Crown Princess, appearing as if they wanted to murder her every second they were in the same room. Her father had mostly been hands off, excited, which she couldn’t blame him for since even she didn’t think she’d end up married anytime soon, or at all really. And her father-in-law, the most powerful person in the room, had simply been there. Silent, with gentle smiles, and kind eyes.
Regina offered what was clearly a change of subject, “I know it wasn’t your first choice, but the uniform suits you.”
She snorted. Without the honorary medals and splashes of purple, finishes on the coat and double stripes down the outer side of each pant leg, she could’ve been headed to a funeral. But she appreciated the effort.
“You’re right, it wasn’t my first choice.” Shoulders noticeably raised, preparing for an expected attack. “Neither was this wedding.”
Emma shrugged, reaching down so she could take gloved hands into her own, “But you were.” It was stated simply, as if she was commenting on the weather. And in a way it was.
In all twenty two years of her life there hadn’t been many constants when she was growing up, and there still weren’t. But since she had turned eighteen and learned the truth there had been one.
“I could have chosen to avoid all of this been normal and maybe even happy, nobody would’ve blamed me but… I didn’t want to. As soon as I met you, and after you quickly insulted me, I was hooked. I didn’t want to spend a lifetime thinking what if? I didn’t want to wonder if I stood a chance? Or what it was like to see you at 6am, when you for some reason feel the need to wake me up? Or even the look on your face after you’ve gone for a good ride? And well,” Emma stammered, feeling her face start to warm and looked down at her feet, “when you did give me a chance, that was the end of it. I couldn’t stop myself from loving you if I tried and trust me I’ve tried, but you’ve ensnared me in your web. A fancy word I know. I don’t have a choice in loving you Regina, you know this, and given the option of being with you or not, even if it means dressing up in this clown suit sometimes, I hope you know that despite when I complain, or act like a brat, I would choose you every time.”
She looked up and was surprised to see tears hanging on bold eyelashes, a few having dropped down full cheeks.
“Now those, those are vows.” A quiet voice burst their bubble. Both their heads flew up to see they had captured the attention of the room. King Henry III seemed to be studying them, the corners of his mouth just marginally uplifted. Her mother was crying and her father had a proud look on his face. Even the Queen looked slightly more interested than her normal neutral state. They both laughed, Regina discreetly wiping away the remnants of the effect Emma’s words had had on her. “What do you say we get this group picture out of the way?” The King asked.
With a good amount of maneuvering, and endless patience, they managed to all squeeze together. The newlyweds front and center.
“Alright Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, and ladies and gentlemen. On the count of three!”
Emma found herself gazing at the woman by her side, and couldn’t resist placing a hand, out of sight, on the small her back, as if at any second she would disappear.
“1!”
Regina turned with a question in her eyes.
“2!”
Emma only grinned like a fool, not bothering to try and explain what she was feeling at this very moment or to look away even when Regina returned it on a more minute scale and a wink before facing forward again.
“3!”
The flash went off with only one thought racing through her mind.
So this is what a happy ending feels like.