White. That was the first thing she saw opening her eyes; a white ceiling. Followed by more white as in the sheets surrounding her. The bed she was lying in was quite big, same applied to the whole room, which hopefully was what she thought it had to be: her bedroom from now on; in the new world that was her happy ending. She already liked it a thousand times better than the Enchanted Forest. It was a lot more comfortable, a lot more luxurious; a lot more Regina.
Getting up, she noticed the grey silk pajamas, which were feeling cool against her smooth skin. Not a patch on the hideous woolen sleeping gowns she used to wear, itching and scratching on every part of her body possible. For just a second a slight shock rose up inside her when her hands made their way up to her hair. It was short. As preposterous as it might sound, her hair had always been a thing she had been proud of, she had liked about herself. It had also been something Leopold had been fond of when it came to her, though. Suddenly she was glad it was gone, it was different; she was different.
Quickly, she made her way to one of the windows, framed by elegant, floor length curtains. A small city was literally at her feet. Her city. This was it, this was her victory, her happy ending. Everything she had ever dreamed of and more had become reality. She had defied everyone; her mother, Rumpelstiltskin, Maleficent. "I did it. I won," escaped her lips, breathlessly, before they turned into a triumphant smirk.
She was just standing there in front of the big window, completely content with herself and the world. Until a demanding cry cut through the peaceful silence. Head jolting up, her gaze wandered around the room, scrutinizing, trying to make out the source of this noise. Eventually, she figured it must come from a room down the hall. Anger started boiling in her guts. How could anyone dare to disturb her current peace of mind? This was her happy ending. The door crashing against the wall with a loud 'Bang!', when she opened it, she stormed into the room right next to hers. It was a nursery, apparently; light green walls, dark brown, almost black, furniture, an armchair in the corner and plush toys here, there and everywhere. That was when it hit her like a ton of bricks. Emma.
Five minutes. She had been staring at the little girl in the crib for five minutes already. Well, it was rather glaring by now. What she had even expected would happen when she had picked the baby up back in the Enchanted Forest, she wasn't sure. But it probably had not been… this. The tiny bundle was still crying as if being tortured, which Regina could not deny gave her some sort of vicious gree, but at the same time let a slight headache creep its way to her temples. It was simply annoying. "Be quiet already!" She hissed, raising a hand to massage her forehead. This was not what she had signed up for and regret over not killing the child right away bubbled to the surface. Again, her weakness had gotten the better of her.
Who was she even kidding, she was no mother; she was the Evil Queen. The cruelest of them all, with magic so powerful, she was feared throughout every bit of every realm that existed. But, apparently, she was not able to do what should be the easiest task of them all. There was no reason to hesitate, there had never been one.
The question, why she had been able to rip out her father's heart, the heart of the man who had always loved her, really loved her, no matter what, even though he had been a coward not standing up to her domineering mother, without batting an eye, but she had been unable to bring herself to annihilate the child of her worst enemy and the greatest threat to her curse, to her happy ending, never once crossed her mind. It was quite wry if you thought about it. Pusillanimous even. But maybe, just maybe, somewhere deep down there was the hope for a fresh start in all of this. A fresh start with Emma. A fresh start with her baby.
A family had always been her dream, after all. Beneath all the anger, the fury, the vindictiveness, she had been craving for someone at her side all along. Someone, who would love her, like Daniel had, even after all the terrible things she had done. Someone, who would give her a child. Someone, who would make her forget; forget her past, the dysfunctional relationship to her own mother, the remorse about killing her own father. A fresh, new start, that was exactly what it came down to. That was what she needed. But probably she just did not deserve that.
Not able to bear the crying only a second longer, Regina finally reached out to take Emma into her arms. At this point, all she was, was deep down exasperated. Exasperated by her own failure. Exasperated by the baby in her arms. She should have just killed her when she had the chance. It would have been easier; safer. It would have been the right thing to do. The villain way. But apparently she was too weak to be an actual villain. Her heart might be as black as the sky by night, however there seemed to still be a spark of empathy left. A spark of humanity. A spark of love.
Emma calmed down in less than two seconds. Now completely quiet, she just looked at the woman holding her, whose ire collapsed like a house of cards in the wind. She hated herself for savoring this; for savoring holding Emma in her arms, feeling the little fingers wrapped tight around her own, seeing the content smile on the tiny, pale lips. It warmed her heart. A heart, so black and cold, it would probably make no difference if it was not in her chest at all. For years, she just did not feel at all. She made herself feel nothing, not care, just to stay even remotely sane. Again, though, it was different now; it was different with Emma.
No. She could not do this. She could not allow herself to do this. It was just an illusion; a lie. A lie, that could cost her everything. The little girl in her arms would grow up to break her curse, to ruin her life. So she needed to do what she had always done: bury her feelings so deep down inside of herself, locking them up behind walls so high, they would never come up to the surface again. Emma was not her daughter, Regina was not her mother; Emma was an obstacle on which she needed to keep a close eye. It simply was self-protection to raise her. Nothing more.
