A/N: A companion piece to Take My Hand. MamaSnow fluffiness! First try at MamaSnow, so love to know your thoughts! Thanks to ooncer, who made Snow actually sound like Snow! Enjoy

Disclaimer: Once Upon A Time and all character's and familiar dialogue from the show belong to Disney/ABC and the show's brilliant creators and writers. No profit is being made from this just having fun with my favorite show.

Motherly Reflections,

A MamaSnow Oneshot

Emma took a deep breath and cautiously inched closer to the bedroom door. She and her father had just finished her very first dance lesson and, slowly but surely, she was warming up to the idea of a ball. Now she wanted to apologize to Mary Margaret. Emma's stomach flipped with guilt when she remembered what she'd said. She really hadn't meant to sound so harsh. It was just overwhelming. The blonde bit her lip as she pushed open the door, hoping her mother wasn't too angry with her.

"Mary Margaret?" she called gingerly. The brunette sat on the far side of the bed, her back to Emma. She was clutching a pillow to her chest, shoulder hunched, head down, looking eerily close to when she and David had broken up during the curse. Emma winced when she heard her mother's soft sobs. She took a few tentative steps before the guilt acted as a physical barrier. "Are you-"

Mary Margaret tried to clear up any evidence of her emotions by sniffing loudly and wiping her face with the corners of the pillowcase. "Oh, Emma-" she stammered, "I'm fine," but her voice was thick as she hurriedly thrust the pillow back on top of the bed. Emma could hear her heart thumping in her ears as she perched on the edge of the bed next to the brunette. It was ironic really, finding her mother had ultimately cost her best friend. Before the curse broke, the pair had spent many a night discussing everything from work to rotten relationships but now the thought of having to share her innermost thoughts and feeling with her ex-roommate filled her with dread.

"Look, Mary Margaret… I…" Emma stuttered, her throat suddenly dry.

"It's alright. " her mother tried to cut her off, but Emma shook her head firmly.

"No, it's not alright. I didn't mean what I said."

"Yes you did," Snow sighed as if she was coming to terms with it. "And that's okay. You were right, I was just excited about being able to do something for you… You know… As a mother," At that, her eyes widened, and she almost started crying again. She hadn't meant to use the "M" word again, it just slipped out. No matter how old she was, Emma was her baby.

Her daughter sighed and squeezed her hand, unsure how to make her feel better. "It was a really sweet idea, I just-"

"You just don't go in for big parties," she finished, "I get it, Emma. You don't ever have to apologize for the way you feel."

"I know, but I'm sorry for the way I said it. I was… horrible," she looked down, suddenly ashamed and embarrassed, "I guess...I guess I was just scared."

"Scared of what, honey?"

Emma actually allowed herself a small smile at the sound of the endearment, "Well, I'm not much of a princess am I?" she laughed, "I don't even know how to dance, let alone anything else!"

At this confession, Mary Margaret's chin began to quake and the threat of yet more tears became very real. She battled to contain her emotions by swallowing hard and turning back to face her daughter.

"Oh, Emma! Is that why you were so angry? You think you won't make a good princess?" Her voice rose, then dropped. Who had ever made her baby feel so… insignificant? If she ever met them…there would be trouble!

The blonde's green eyes met her mother's and she gave the smallest shake of her head.

Mary Margaret eyed her daughter, "Sweetheart, what do you think being a princess means?"

Emma shrugged, "Going to balls and wearing fancy clothes and waltzing with handsome princes?"

Her mother smiled softly and shook her head, "That's part of it, but that's not what its really about."

Emma scrunched her brow, "it's not?"

"No," her mother shook her head gently, "its about loyalty, honesty, its about doing whatever it takes to help those you love. You are a princess Emma. In every sense of the word."

When her mother had first said that a few weeks back, Emma had swelled with pride, but as she got ready for the ball tonight, she was beginning to doubt that claim. Sitting at her vanity mirror, trying to fix her rats nest she called hair and wearing a tank top and jeans, Emma couldn't have felt any less like a princess. She picked up her hairbrush and began to drag it unceremoniously through the long, blond tresses, wincing as she did so. Catching sight of her mother's reflection, Emma lowered her arm and smiled awkwardly.

"I used to hate brushing my hair too," Mary Margaret sympathized. "Not a problem I have anymore!" She absent mindedly ran her hand through her pixie-cut as she crossed the room to stand behind her daughter. "Sometimes my mother would brush it for me," she reminisced with a faraway look in her eyes. "She was always so gentle, she always made time to do it for me even with the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders."

"Will...will you help me?" Emma asked tentatively, smiling sheepishly at her mother in the mirror.

Mary Margaret beamed and pulled up a chair to sit behind her daughter, "Of course."

Emma sighed in content as her mother ran both her dainty fingers and the brush through her long curls. No one had ever done this for her before, at least not that she could remember, and it felt wonderful. She always hated doing her hair, it was a chore and often quite painful. But when Mary Margaret did it, it was so soothing she thought she might fall asleep sitting up. She leaned back and sunk into her mother, who was a bit surprised, but she smiled wider and instinctively wrapped her free hand around her daughter's waist.

The warm satisfaction of finally connecting with her daughter spread from Mary Margaret's heart right through to the tips of her fingers. Finally, after everything they'd been through, Emma was allowing herself to be coddled, if only fleetingly. The realization made Snow's heart leap. She didn't know how long this would last, but she would take whatever Emma wanted to give. As she pinned up the last of Emma's golden curls with flower barrettes, Mary Margaret stepped back to admire her daughter in the mirror. "There, hair fit for a princess."

Emma grinned. Whether it was her mother's soothing touch or the relief that they had at last cleared the air, Emma couldn't be sure but either way, the next words that left her lips were effortless, "I love you... Mom."

The End

Ps: If you are reading this, you must like OUAT :) If so, come check out an AWESOME Fanfiction and Art Facebook group I started with Charlotte Ashmore, Emilie Brown, and our fellow Oncers! Its called OUAT Fan Fiction and Creations. The link is on my profile. Hope you enjoyed, and hope to see you there! :D