AN: I don't know, if you have heard of "Of Monsters and Men" or their song Love Love Love, but I highly recommend you to check it out/listen to it while reading this One Shot. When listening to it for the very first time I thought it would fit well to a Swan Queen Angsty-Fic, and this is what followed. Set Post-Curse, but AU from there on. (Song can be found, here on youtube, /watch?v=3IhI87arSAE)
AN2: I don't own Swan Queen, or Once Upon a Time, borrowing for creative purpose only.
Enjoy & Please Review!
Love Love Love
Well, maybe I'm a crook for stealing your heart away.
And maybe I'm a crook for not caring for it.
Yeah, maybe I'm a bad,bad,bad…bad person.
Well, baby I know.
Sometime between midnight and dawn, cloaked in silence and darkness, steady feet, desperate not to make a sound, travel across hardwood flooring; having memorized a long time ago where the old wood creaks and where it's safe to step. You don't breath, not until the faint click of a door closing behind slumped shoulders echoes through the night. You know it's wrong, leaving her alone, leaving her to pull herself together once she wakes up and notices you are gone, again.
And yet, relief floods your system, drowns the guilt with each step you take through the night, leading you away from her and the empty promises you both wanted to believe so desperately. You know already, that you'll ignore her, avoid her for the next day or two. Long enough for her to put the pieces back together, to wipe tears and pain off her face, knowing those would break your resolve. Something that can't happen, something you know she wishes for, and that's why you'll hide as well as you can in the small town of Storybrooke.
The first rays of sunlight dance along the treetops as you reach the place you call home, just as silently as you left hers you sneak in, unnoticed by anyone. It's pointless to lay down now, to pretend that you slept the whole night seeing as they'll wake soon, expecting you to join them for breakfast, just like a proper, normal family would do. Not that your family is normal, nor have you fully accepted having it yet but that doesn't matter, not in their eyes it seems. They are trying and so should you. It's not that you aren't trying, you do. You really are trying; it's just a lot to take in. Suddenly you have a son, a son that was obsessed with a curse you help him to break, only to discover that he was right all along. The Evil Queen had in fact cursed all fairy-tale characters, including your parents. Snow White and Prince Charming. You love them, you do but unlike them you don't see the world in only black and white. They don't know it, but you disagree a lot with their beliefs on good and bad, knowing from experiencethat there is always more to it.
As you settle at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of you, a now familiar pair of feet flies down the stairs.
"Morning 'Enry" you greet your son, around a spoonful of milk and fruit loops.
"You're up early Ma" he comments. You merely shrug, unable to find a believable excuse quick enough.
"Have you seen Regina lately?" he continues; it stings you think. That he forgot everything she did for him so quickly. It's like she has never been his mother, not in his eyes anyways. But you know different, know that she was—is him a better mother than you'll ever be.
"No, I haven't." the lie comes easily, smoothly. "Why?"
"Who know what she's up to" he shrugs. "She could plan another curse, or something"
You know she isn't. Not that she wouldn't have all reason to do so.
"I don't think she does. She knows she would lose you completely if she did", he wants to disagree, wants to argue that she already has lost him, but he knows better. Not willing to have the same argument again. With time, you know he'll agree with you. See how hard his mother tries to be good enough for him. You just hope that he does before it's too late.
"I think he's right" Charming. Your father. Of course he thinks Regina is up to something, because people can't change, and if they do it's never for the better. You ignore him and his comment as you put your bowl into the empty sink and reach for your red leather jacket.
"You're going?"
"Obviously" you state, unable to hide the annoyance in your voice. "Someone has to go and make sure that the Evil Queen is still Evil, right?" you ask, eying Charming and Henry, only one meeting your yes in silent agreement. Your father will never change. But your son still can, he should know that people can change, having witnessed how you changed over the span of one year. And you'll be damned if he won't accept Regina as his mother again, if only to ease the guilt.
You don't go to see the former Mayor, like you told them you would, because you can't. Knowing that by now she once again found herself alone. Nevertheless you leave, push your yellow Beetle beyond the town line, enjoying it to be able to leave the small town unaffected. You don't drive far; you don't need to. Just a few miles before the town line you turn left onto a deserted track. It's not the first time you've come here, given that this has become your place to think, far away from everything. Here you aren't the Saviour, not the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming or the birth mother of the Evil Queens adopted son. Here you are just Emma, alone with yourself and your thoughts.
It had started the night the curse had broken, fuelled with anger and fury you had stormed into her house, ready to do god knows what to the woman that ended the chance you would have had at a life with your parents. You found her curled around a pillow, on Henry's bed. Seeing her for the first time for what she truly was. Not a fearsome Mayor, or the Evil Queen, but a broken woman. She hadn't acknowledged you, hadn't even spared a glance towards your direction. You knew she would have taken everything you would have thrown her way, she had expected everything, but not what you did.
Forgotten the fury, the "you did this", you had knelt down next to her, had searched her eyes as the words neither of you would have expected to hear left your lips.
I am sorry.
She had wanted you dead, or under the sleeping curse, she had caused the curse that had separated you from your parents, she had endangered Henry. And yet you had tried to comfort the woman that had caused misery to so many.
Bloodshot eyes stared questioningly at you, daring you to tell her that you didn't mean it, daring you to crush the hint of hope that had just settled into deep brown orbs.
Later, you told yourself that you weren't thinking rationally, that you saw yourself in her, and yet you still believe the words you had told her next, still believe in her answer.
You never wanted for any of this to happen, did you?
You left out whether you meant Henry, the curse, or her becoming the evil Queen, but she nodded anyways,probably agreeing to all three, if not to more. It didn't matter, and still doesn't today. But what happened next does still matter.
You pulled her into your arms, offered her the comfort she needed, the comfort you craved yourself. She didn't fight you, didn't even try to push you away. Instead her arms flung around your neck, clinging desperately to you as she sobbed into your shirt. You held her, the whole time, her hands rubbing soothing patterns across her back. Eventually she calmed, not seeming the slightest bit embarrassed about her emotional outburst. She had lost her mask. Gone was the cold façade, the Mayor, the Evil Queen, leaving nothing behind but the broken remains of what she once had been. And that was when you had actually felt it.
Sympathy.
She had told you her story, had told you everything from Cora, to Daniel, to Snow, to the bastard masquerading as a king that apparently had been your grandfather, and finally Rumpelstiltskin. You understood her, thought that you would have done the same. What other possibilities did she have? Being pushed in a certain direction from the very beginning doesn't leave you with many options.
You kept silent the whole time, seated onto the very couch you had sat upon the day you had first met her, in her study. She had offered you a drink, merely searching for an excuse to drink herself. Leaving you to sit across from her, only listening to what she had to say. You knew she needed it, needed someone to listen to her, and you couldn't stop the nagging feeling that all this could have been prevented if someone would have taken the time to look behind the always controlled features.
Later that night, you understood why she had told you all this, why she had showed her vulnerable side to you. She had though that they would come for her, would have her head for what she did. She didn't believe you, her suddenly so warm brown eyes were filled with doubt whenever you ensured her that you wouldn't let them hurt her, that you would protect her, stand up to the Charmings – your parents, if needed to. Hesitation and pain never left her expression, but her rigid form slumped regardless, exhaustion finally making its appearance.
She fell asleep shortly after, her body having reached its limits. Before she could collapse against you and trap you there at her the couch in her study, you half carried, half dragged her up the stairs, towards her bedroom, eventually placing her on top of the queen-size bed. Thinking her to be deeply asleep you wrapped the sheets around her, in an oddly caring manner so she wouldn't freeze. Once you were done, you turned around, read to leave. That's when you had realized that she hadn't been as asleep as you had thought her to be.
Don't leave.
A quiet plea as loud as rolling thunder in the surrounding silence.
I can't.
No you couldn't. You knew it would only be so long before your newly found parents would come looking for you.
Please. Please, stay.
You stayed. Leaving Snow and Charming with a text, claiming it all was too much, that you needed a moment alone, a moment to think. Only telling half a lie.
You stripped down to panties and your trademark tank-top before you slipped under the sheets next to her lithe frame, knowing right then and there how wrong it was, despite it feeling so right. You ignored the voice inside your head telling you to stop, to not get attached to Regina Mills, as you pulled her into your arms.
I never hated you.
Silence followed her words. No, you hadn't hated her either. She had been a challenge, despicable, but you hadn't hated her. Not once.
I felt threatened. I feared that you would take the last bit of happiness I had left from me.
Again, you had decided to only listen. Knowing any word from you wouldn't help her. Instead you tightened your grip around her.
Without you, I wouldn't have Henry.
That was when your resolve broke, when she finally managed to provoke a reaction from you.
Regina stop!
She faltered, surprise washed across her features as she turned to face you.
I wanted to take Henry. I wanted to take him from you. I had no rights to him, but I wanted him to be my son, not yours. Mine.
Her eyes glossed over, briefly reminding you of a soap bubble, shining beautifully before it pops, spilling it's remains everywhere. That's when you thought it was over, when she would ask you to leave because you'd managed to hurt her one last time, because you'd reached the tip of the iceberg.
I had Henry because of you, in the first place.
She buried her face in your neck, before sobs wracked her body once more. You wanted to tell her how sorry you are, that Henry will come around, that he is still hers, you wanted to tell her everything, it didn't matter what, as long as she would feel better.
I love you.
It's a whisper, but loud enough to be caught by her ears. She quieted down immediately, though you still could feel tears falling hot against your skin. Your words were empty, you both knew it the second they had left your lips, but it was what she had needed, had craved so desperately. When she looked up, searching your eyes, you should have regretted saying those words. But you couldn't, not with something close to hope taking over deep brown orbs.
Later you had told yourself that you were helping her, that she had needed to hear those words, that she had craved for them all her life. Still, you never, not even till now, managed to shake off the feeling that you weren't much better than those who had made her the evil queen. Not even your good intentions could change that.
You stopped to think, stopped to try to figure out what was the right thing to do when her lips found yours. Her fingers tangled themselves in your hair, pulling you closer, holding you in place. Even then, as you could taste the tears on her lips, she feared that you would go, and leave her. But you didn't. Not then. Your hands moved from her back towards her hips, melding Regina's form further into yours. The tears had stopped, instead you could feel a soft smile gracing across her lips, you were desperate to keep it there you parted your lips, giving the former Queen permission to deepen the kiss. It wasn't about control, not like you always had imagined it would be with the former Mayor, but then, she wasn't the Mayor anymore. She took her time, exploring your mouth, exploring you, memorizing as much as she could, before it would be over.
Her fingers had left your hair, had found a hint of skin on the small of your back instead, where the tank top already had ridden up. Eagerly, soft fingertips had explored your back, had pushed up the top further and further. You knew, she needed this, needed this to feel. Carefully, you had allowed your hands to travel to the front of the blouse she still had been clad in, to open button after button, whilst your lips never left hers.
Clothes discarded quickly, tank-top, blouse, her dress-pants and your bra had found a new place on the floor, surrounding her bed. You couldn't deny — not then, and not now, how great it had felt to have the Evil Queen, the monster out of Grimm's fairy-tales, explore every inch of your skin. She was a human being, a broken woman desperate for love, cruel circumstances and people had shaped her into the monster she had become, vanished along with the breaking of the curse, a hint of the forbidden still lingering within her.
Your fingers travelled along the black lace of her bra, brushed across lace-clad breasts, causing her to push herself further into your touch.
Moments later, her bra had joined yours on the floor and you found your lips attached to her skin, exploring, kissing, marking it. Your fingers had travelled from firm breasts and pert nipples over her taut abs, low enough to sense along the edge of black lace panties.
Please.
A plea. A moan.
Your fingers had disappeared below the lace-waistband, had travelled further as your lips parted around a nipple. She needed this, that's why you were there. That's why you gave her what she craved. The feeling to be wanted,to be loved. Your fingers had disappeared within her warmth, your teeth sinking simultaneously into soft skin, had caused her to ache off the bed, a silent scream to leave her lips. Long fingers had woven themselves again into your long tresses, pressing your lips against her soft skin.
Quickly, you had built a steady rhythm, with the heel of your hand pressed against her clit, offering needed friction.
Moans filled the silence as she met you trust for trust.
A firm tug at your hair had stopped your lips from traveling any further across smooth skin.
I need you.
You followed her wish, and sealed her lips with yours, swallowing each groan. She was close, her muscles pulling you further in, working around your fingers, paired with her nails marking your back told you that it wouldn't take long for her to fall over the edge.
Your lips left hers, only to reattach themselves to her soft skin, following the expanse of her neck.
I've got you.
You breathed below her ear, and it was enough to send her flying. Her face buried into your neck with her teeth attached to your shoulder, she came undone. With her scream muffled against your skin, you stilled the movement of your fingers.
You mistook the expression of post-orgasmic bliss for happiness, and watched relieved how she fell asleep moments later, wrapped around your frame, a soft smile lingering on her lips. You didn't sleep, couldn't. You had remained awake until you were sure she was fast asleep, not waking up this time. Carefully you had rolled off the bed, had searched for your bra, jeans and tank-top. Quietly you had managed to leave the bedroom, only to silently curse every time the hardwood flooring creaked under your weight. Eventually, you had reached the front door, had found your red leather jacket and boots she had asked you to put there earlier, and then you had done what she had feared the most.
You had left. Left like everyone else.
It had taken you a week, to return to the mayoral mansion to see how she was doing. To your surprise, she had invited you in, had offered you her cider, had promised that it wasn't poisoned, had laughed about her lame joke. She had seemed so small, so fragile.
After that night, it had become a habit. Every two to three days, you would appear at her door at nightfall. Every time she would invite you in, would offer you her cider, or something to eat. Some days you would take her up on those offers, on others you wouldn't. You promised her love, promised her to have her back, to stand by her side, you gave her hope. She believed your words each night, knowing as well as you how shallow they were.
I love you.
She had breathed one night, meaning her words unlike you. The fear, threatening to spill from beautiful brown orbs had been proof for their truth. You had left immediately, leaving her to call after you that she didn't mean it, that she wouldn't say them again. It had taken you five days, to accept that she would love you, knowing that you couldn't love her, so you returned. Promising her love and hope again, giving her what she craved the most only to disappear before the crack of dawn, to break her more and more each time.
'Cause you Love Love Love.
When you know I can't love you.
Reviews are Welcome! :) - I've bits of a happy ending written, if you'd like to see it please let me know!