Chapter Text
"Emma, please..." pleaded Queen Snow in a trembling voice, her eyes filled with pain and sadness, "try to understand us."
"Understand you?!" cried Emma, turning violently to face her mother, her eyes glistening with tears. She felt nothing but anger and disgust at Snow White's last words. How dare she make her feel guilty like that on her eighteenth birthday? She, who had always admired the Queen from an early age, could not believe her ears. She didn't recognise her own mother, whose kindness, selflessness and courage were renowned even in the furthest reaches of their kingdom. With her jaw clenched and her eyes menacing, Emma tried to contain her anger, which threatened to explode again when she thought back to her mother's words a few moments earlier.
Curled up on the soft sofa in the boudoir, Emma was reading for the umpteenth time the story of Snow White and the Evil Queen, the outcome of which she knew inside out. How could it be otherwise when this woman had sworn to destroy her family's happiness? The shadow of the Evil Queen still loomed over their kingdom, although her presence became less noticeable as the heiress to the throne approached her eighteenth birthday. Emma couldn't help wondering about the Evil Queen her parents were so afraid of. She knew what her mother had done. She knew the pain she had caused and the relationship she had broken. The Evil Queen's first love. Emma couldn't help but feel a certain sadness as she turned the page of her book. Her eyes widened as she came upon an image she had never really paid attention to. The dark face of the Evil Queen, whose fine, aristocratic contours emphasised her cold, piercing gaze. The blonde brushed her fingertips over the Queen's delicate face, as if fearful of damaging it, and stopped at an inscription engraved beneath the portrait of the Evil Queen: Regina Mills. The White Queen chose this moment to enter the boudoir. She walked silently towards her daughter, who seemed unaware of her presence. However, the Queen could not hide her surprise and shock when she saw Emma's intense gaze lingering on Regina's portrait.
"Emma, I have something to tell you," began the Queen in a low tone, staring intently at Emma. Emma's face closed at the words and she raised her head to meet her mother's gaze. Several seconds passed before Snow decided to reveal the reason for her visit. "Today, you are officially an adult and the sole heiress to the throne. For those reasons, your father and I have decided to make you attend the Debutante Ball that will take place here next month."
"The debutante ball?" gasped Emma, closing her book and placing it on the sofa beside her. "But you and Father said I was too young to make my debut into high society."
"It has been decided otherwise, Emma," the Queen replied in a gentle but firm tone. "The Crown cannot afford to be complacent when the Evil Queen is still a threat. She will not rest until her cold heart is satisfied, Emma. Never forget that." Although Emma doubted her mother's words, she preferred to say nothing and broached another, equally important subject: the Debutante Ball.
"Mother, have you already chosen my dress for the ball? I hope I don't have to wear that awful pink dress you're so fond of," grinned Emma.
"Yes, your outfit is ready," replied the Queen, ignoring her sarcastic remark. "Your lady-in-waiting Ruby will help you prepare. I've put her in charge of getting you ready for the ball. She will make sure you look your best. You have to seduce your suitor, my dear," the Queen informed her with a smile. "The future of the kingdom depends on your marriage to Prince Jones".
Another comment from her mother brought Emma back to reality.
"We've spoken a lot about you to Prince Jones. His family isn't the richest in the Enchanted Forest, but he's a brave man. I heard he lost his hand in a fight to defend the woman he loved. He's also a good-looking man. He's known for having a scandalous reputation," revealed Snow White to her daughter. "However, he has never been seen in the company of women who are, to say the least, fleshy," added her mother thoughtfully, not paying attention to Emma's reaction, whose eyes widened. Then an idea occurred to her. An idea that would not only have consequences to those around her and also to her... waistline.