A/N: Hi! This is my first ever fan fiction (thought I'd give it a go considering I have four months, I think, until there's more OUAT!) I've just jumped right into this story with our ladies being in a relationship, albeit a new one, and I've ignored probably about half of the season. But anyway, enjoy!
...
Emma has always been good at telling stories. She supposes she should be, considering how she is technically part of a fairy-tale herself; but before she even knew that she came from The Enchanted Forest she told tales of gallant knights, and even braver princesses. Scribbled on pages ripped out from her school books, she wrote of trolls and ogres and the heroes who battled them to protect their Kingdoms and-
'Ma, what are you doing?' Henry's voice is closer than expected and Emma physically jumps; the pieces of paper that had been clutched in her hand scattering across the floor.
'Jesus kid, could you try any harder to give me a heart attack?' Emma huffs.
'I think those burgers that you consume by the dozen at Granny's have already beaten our son to it,' Regina drawls, and despite herself Emma grins at the sound of her voice. It's still new to be so close to Regina on a daily basis, having only just moved in a few days prior.
'Just because you don't touch anything that isn't green or natural or whatever the hell else is healthy, doesn't mean that you get to preach at me,' Emma retorts playfully, throwing the brunette a smile just in case.
'Well don't come crying to me when you can't-'
Henry interrupts swiftly knowing all too well how quickly his mothers' arguments escalated, and Emma throws him a grateful smile. 'What are all these?' He toes a scrappy page that is filled with nearly illegible handwriting.
'Most likely a list of people your mother's aggravated,' Regina teases and Emma turns to her with raised eyebrows.
'Oh ha ha, you think you're so funny, don't you?'
'I don't think so, dear. I know so'.
Ignoring her, Emma turns back to Henry who is waiting expectantly for her to share. 'They're stories I wrote when I was younger'.
'Really?' Henry says enthusiastically, as Emma reaches for the first of many discarded pages, but he beats her to it.
He clears his throat and Emma cringes before he even starts reading.
'The Queen, already bristling with anger, lashed out at the monster before her. Her magic surrounded her, an impenetrable cloud as she coiled it into a vicious point and sent it flying at the dragon.
The beast, tall and cloaked in shadow, roared angrily at the brunette and swatted at her with its barbed tail. But the queen laughed and simply disappeared, only to reappear behind the beast.
With practised ease, she focused her magic upon the dragon's beating heart and let herself become consumed. She could hear it, the thump thump thump that pounded in time with her own frantic heartbeat. Stilling herself, she curled her fist and listened as the dragon roared again, agonised before falling, crashing to the floor.
Triumphant, the queen glided over to the trapdoor that the beast had been guarding and opened it with one deft tug at the silver handle.
'You took your time, your Majesty,' the blonde haired princess grinned up at her saviour.
'Always so picky,' the Queen said but offered a hand to her princess, the one who'd been stolen from her; the one who she rescued and always would. With a soft smile she pulled her into a fierce embrace.' Henry finishes, and stays quiet for a moment as if he's just taking in the story. He looks up at Emma, who is suddenly very interested with the now empty insides of the box in front of her. Before he can commend her on her story, his mother speaks up.
'How old were you when you wrote these?'
Emma contemplates for a moment, 'about fifteen I think'. She looks up at Regina, and can feel the heat of her blush run through the rest of her body when the brunette seems to stare right into her. It can't be lost on the other woman how the characters in her story resemble them, and she wants desperately to ask her what she really thinks. But Henry is there, right beside her and is no way interested in leaving them be.
'That was awesome, Ma!' Henry says, and reaches for the rest of them, but Emma holds them away from him.
'Nosy are we?' she says as she adds the last page to the collection, and secures them with an elastic band.
'I want to see what happens to them! And what happened before that, please Ma?' Henry gives her the puppy dog eyes, and Emma forces herself not to cave.
'Maybe I'll read them to you tonight, as a bedtime story?'
She expects him to shudder at the thought, especially since for the past week he'd been adamant that he no longer needed someone to tuck him in. 'I'm not a kid anymore!' But he just nods in agreement, and quickly hurries out of the room.
'I didn't realise you liked to write,' Regina says, moving closer to Emma as she repacks the contents of her box.
'I used to do it all the time when I was younger, whenever I could'. Emma runs a finger down the wad of papers and it almost feels like she's running her fingers across her past; the pages whispering words she'd long since forgotten.
She's grateful when Regina doesn't push for details, doesn't pry as to why a teenager was more interested in a fantasy world than her own life. She guesses it's because, however much she wishes the brunette didn't have to, she relates with her. That they both searched for an escape when they were younger, and sometimes even now.
'Henry isn't the only one who'd like to read them'.
Emma looks up, her expression hopelessly startled. 'Really?'
Regina nods and Emma licks her lips, suddenly nervous. She's never shared her writing with anyone, and now the prospect of giving over the pages of what had lingered in her mind when she was younger makes her feel like she's baring her soul. Nothing in those pages even vaguely resembles a diary, yet it feels as if her stories are more telling of her personally than any teenage drama, or heart felt monologue could ever be.
Swallowing heavily, she offers up the collection of her teenage years that are secured by a fraying elastic band, and is grateful when Regina offers her one of those rare smiles that could stop an entire room.
The brunette settles down on the sofa, legs crossed despite the tightness of her pencil skirt, and Emma is helpless but to watch her as she draws out the first page and reads. It all feels very domesticated in that moment and she is almost surprised at herself when she doesn't freak out and succumb to the omnipresent urge to run.
'It's considered rude to stare, dear', Regina remarks without looking up, as she turns over another page.
'You love the attention,' Emma says dryly.
'Perhaps, but why don't you join me up here rather than sitting on the floor like a chastised dog'.
Emma huffs in annoyance, but gets up regardless and flops at Regina's side. The brunette looks up at her, a single eyebrow raised but Emma crooks her finger and Regina doesn't hesitate to rearrange herself so she is leant up against her. As she finishes getting comfortable, Emma wraps her arms around the woman's slender waist and pulls her a little closer before she buries her face in Regina's hair. She breathes in and out slowly, listening to the occasional rustle of paper and the easy, quiet breaths that Regina takes. There is nothing else. No laughter. No sighs or snorts or jibes.
And then, only then does Emma relax, realising that for the first time in her entire life, someone has accepted her childhood self.
Regina hands over the papers when she is finished with a firm kiss, her hands curling behind Emma's neck and drawing her close. Emma holds her awkwardly, one hand in her hair, the other trying to juggle the papers whilst simultaneously gripping Regina's waist. She hums as they break apart, looking between the stack of papers and Regina until she finally focuses on the brunette's warm gaze.
'So?' Emma says eventually, unnerved by the prolonged silence.
'Thank you,' Regina simply replies as she brushes another kiss against Emma's lips, 'for sharing that with me'. Checking the time, she gently nudges Emma toward the door, 'now go and share with our son, but try and make it a little less frightening. There were some pretty-' Regina seems to falter on the word for a moment, before seemingly finding it again, 'dark parts'.
Emma nods and goes to leave before stopping and turning, abruptly flinging her arms around Regina's neck and drawing her once more into a searing kiss, hoping to portray her thanks at her easy acceptance. She pushes her back until they're against the wall; kisses her until Regina is panting, her fingers digging into her shoulder blades before she pulls back just as abruptly as she'd kissed the woman.
Emma grins at the slightly glazed look in the brunette's eyes before hurrying up the stairs to their impatient son without another word.
'So are we starting at the beginning, or the end or what?' Emma asks as Henry tries hard not bounce around.
'You can't start the story at the end, Ma!' Henry exclaims scandalised, and Emma laughs before gesturing for him to slide under the covers, which he does with a little too much vigour, accidently kicking her hip. She scrunches her face up at him in protest, and he apologises whilst he laughs, her pain fading at the sound of his carefree laughter.
'Right, so the beginning it is then,' she says as she draws out the first pages of the story from the bound pack. She realises, as she glances over the words, that she has yet to read her son a bedtime story, and the prospect of doing so now, when he is twelve and growing older by the day, makes her ever so slightly nervous. Is she supposed to do actions? Make up voices for the characters?
She glances up at him, and he's watching her with such childish excitement and little expectation that she simply smiles at him, clears her throat and begins reading out loud for the first time in a very long time.
'It was the middle of summer, and what little breeze blew was warm, like hot breath down the back of the neck. Emily continued walking, brushing away the sweat that had gathered on her forehead with the back of her hand before reaching for the canteen that hung next to her sword. She'd been travelling for days, in search of a beast that was plundering her land and had heard it was last seen east, near her old hometown.
Henry blinks as he feels a warm heat travel down his back suddenly, a light breeze blowing at his suddenly hot cheeks. He places his palm against his face but feels nothing but cool skin.
He watches his mother, still listening to her voice which seems rich and warm, and stares as her hair is moved by an invisible breeze. Beads of sweat appear on her forehead as her cheeks flush a deep red.
She found it odd to be travelling back to where she'd been born, a place where'd she'd been happy and had parents; people who loved her. She'd been a princess there, her parents the crowned King and Queen, but they'd been taken, kidnapped by the same beast she tracked at that very moment.
Exhausted from her lack of sleep the night before, Emily settled beneath a leafy tree, thankful for shade it provided as she threw down her heavy bag that rested across her shoulders. She rubbed at her aching muscles and let her head lull against the rough bark, her eyes slipping closed-
He feels cooler now, still warm but no longer unpleasantly so. Emma however seems to visibly sag, her shoulders slumping forward in relief as her chest expands on an empty breath.
'I wouldn't do that if I were you,' a sudden voice came from behind her, and Emily started, drawing her sword even as she got to her feet.
'Whose there?!'
A swirl of dusty purple appeared before her and as it cleared, a sharply dressed woman stood in front of her, a dark cape twisted around her shoulders.
Emily stared, dumb struck for a moment at the woman's beauty before taking up her defensive stance once more.
'Who are you?'
The woman smiled, 'Her Royal Highness Isadora Rhea Miller, Queen of The Forest and all its inhabitants. But let's just call me Isadora, shall we?'
Emily levelled her sword out, pointing it at the other woman's throat, 'what do you want? Why have you come to me?'
Isadora held her hands up in surrender, 'no need to be so defensive princess. I'm not the one you need to be worried about'.
Emily blinked, her face scrunching in confusion. 'How do you know who I am? And what on earth are you on about?'
'So many questions! There's an eclipse scheduled for today, all the prophets and Seers have been raving about it for weeks. The Day of Shadows. I assume you know what an eclipse is, yes?' Isadora drawled.
Emily scowled at her. 'Yes, I do. Now what has this eclipse got to do with anything?'
'Good Lord, what do people teach nowadays? An eclipse is a rare opportunity for the Shadow Creatures to come out. I'm sure you've heard tales of their legendary murderous tendencies?' Emily nodded and the brunette continued, 'then you surely understand why you can't be here in the open when the eclipse occurs. You'll be one of the first things they come for; a young girl like you will be a wonderful kill'.
'I can defend myself, thank you very much'.
'Are you deaf or just stupid? These are Shadow dwellers, creatures beyond this world that cannot be harmed by any mortal weapon. You'd be defenceless,' Isadora hissed in annoyance, watching as the stubborn blonde held her ground.
'And what do you expect me to do, come with you? I'm not an imbecile'.
Isadora could feel the darkness coming and looked to the sky as the moon began to creep across the sun. Shadows slid from their hiding places, elongating and twisting against the grass liked caged animals.
Henry can feel the cold, like ice creeping down his spine. He shivers, draws the blankets further around him and wonders why Emma has never read to him before tonight. She's amazing.
She makes it feel like it's real.
'I don't have time to argue with you. The eclipse has begun and I don't plan to be around when it's in full swing. Make your decision: stay here and die, or come with me and live'. Isadora held out her hand expectantly, her eyes betraying her body's calm exterior as they flashed with panic.
'I don't even know you,' Emily wavered, watching as the moon covered half of the sun.
'And no one will know you if you don't come with me right now'.
The tree's shadow that she was currently stood under grew darker with each passing second, and Emily could feel a thickness about it, a growing evil.
Just as she reached for the Isadora's hand, the sun completely disappeared behind the inky blackness of the moon and the shadows came alive. The woods were suddenly overrun with inky black creatures that bristled in the darkness.
His room suddenly seems darker, the light from his bedside table not doing anything to cut through the gloom and Henry reaches for his mother, his hand closing round her wrist.
Her skin is icy cold and she is shaking.
Emily backed up until the tree's bark bit into her skin. Three of the creatures advanced on her, seemingly unbothered by Isadora who stood only a few feet away and instead reached for her. She could feel their fingers on her skin as they sunk through her shirt and rested momentarily against the skin of her chest.
'Ma, you can stop now,' Henry says gently, but Emma doesn't seem to notice him. She's consumed by her own words, helpless but to continue reading.
'Ma?' He reaches for her, but pulls his hand back at the last second as he realises there is something else on her lap. It's transparent, almost like it's not there but it's just visible in the dwindling light, and when Henry realises what it is he scrambles from the bed, his voice trapped from the terror that grips him.
It's a shadow.
Emily looked at them, looked into eyes that were blacker than their bodies, before crying out as claws suddenly found themselves inside her.
Her white shirt blossoms with flowers of crimson and she can do nothing but fall-
Only then does Emma stop reading, and Henry, suddenly finding his voice, screams for Regina.
Regina's halfway through pouring herself a cup of coffee when she hears Henry.
'Mom!'
He's screaming and the coffee pot in her hand drops, shattering on the floor as she flies from the room. She's halfway up the stairs, her voice refusing to co-operate, stolen by the shock of her sons apparent terror, when Henry cries out again. This time his voice is cracked with sobs.
'Emma won't stop bleeding'.
