In the dead of night, the silent castle corridors were alive with flickering shadows, born from the dancing flames of torches stuck to stone walls. Guards remained stationed at their posts, and outside of rooms, while everyone else slumbered, safe under thick sheets and blankets. Everyone, that was, except Emma.
The princess had retired to her bedchambers hours ago under the guise of being exhausted from the endless chattering at dinner, when she was expected to entertain the royal guests with stories about her adventures. The only person she'd really been focused on when recalling her visits to different lands was Regina.
Dear, sweet, Regina, whose lips she'd yet to feel against her own. Though not from lack of trying. They'd spent all afternoon, lost in their little game, swapping fears and hopes and tears as they tried in vain to reach one another in a chaste kiss that never managed to come. Yet, even as they brushed salt water from their lashes, they endured the searing pain over and over with a smile because no matter how much it hurt, oh, how it was worth it. Yes, they had hoped to kiss, but the fact that they'd gotten so close was a marvel all on its own. Emma could still recall the sensation of Regina's warm breath as it cascaded over her lips, the faint sweetness that clung to it, the heat that radiated just out of her reach, filled with such promise.
Of course, retiring to bed had been a ploy. She'd lain there for at least two hours going over a plan in her head, knowing full well her parents would check in on her before they, too, returned to their chambers for the night.
Now, with the moon hanging heavy in the night sky, Emma peeled back the covers, sprang onto her feet like a nocturnal animal, and scampered towards her large wardrobe. The princess wasn't foolish. She'd gone to bed fully dressed, biding her time, and now she stuffed a shirt and some linen pants into a satchel with a pair of boots before stopping to push her feet into her own.
Over the years her mother and father had taken the time to show her the hidden passages. Naturally, they had stressed how important it was for safety, should they ever be under attack. However, as her mother had drawled with a sigh years ago, she was her father's daughter, and much like him, Emma had mapped them to memory in order to jump out and scare them. At least, that was what she chose to do half the time, while the other? Well, a growing princess had to use whatever means necessary to sneak about, didn't she?
Tracing her fingers over the rough, cold stones of the far wall, Emma located the one she wanted, and pushed with all her might. The side of the wall swung open with a loud scrape, and she grinned into the pitch darkness as if it were filled with all the things she desired. One hesitant look towards the thick hand carved oak doors of her chamber was all she gave as she snatched up the nearest torch and set off through the hidden passage.
A short while later Emma emerged from the darkness like a spirit, her face ghostly pale in the light of the flame, her breaths ragged from rushing so quickly. Now she stood in another room. One she absolutely knew she shouldn't be in at this time of night, especially unaccompanied. That was the beauty of it being so late, for even though she was aware of the risk, she knew that even Cora and the maidens she had follow Regina every waking moment wouldn't risk the gossip if any of them slept anywhere other than their own assigned rooms. Which meant the dead of night was the perfect time to have Regina all to herself.
Careful footsteps led Emma towards the bed, and she held the torch behind her as she very gently brought her free hand down to clasp the sleeping brunette's shoulder. "Regina?" Emma whispered, leaning down slightly as she tried to rouse her. "Regina, wake up, it's me." At the first sign of stirring, Emma brought her finger to her lips and hushed, "Shhh, it's very late." Then she smiled brightly and stepped back from the bed, "Come with me." She beckoned, and held out her hand.
Bleary eyed and scarcely awake, Regina sat up and reached for Emma with both arms. Her hair stuck up in the back, and her heavy lashes refused to stay open as she drowsily clung to her betrothed. "Where are you taking me?" she asked, not at all troubled by the thought of breaking the rules. She trusted Emma's judgment, and the prospect of an adventure thrilled her, even when half asleep. Her toes barely touched the floor when Emma picked her up, helping her out of the bed and onto her feet.
Regina hurried to get her robe, but glimpsing the bag of clothes that Emma offered up, dressed in the simple trousers and tunic. Neither of the garments fit her small frame, but she did her best to fold up the pants and shirtsleeves, then put on the leather boots and laced them.
She went with Emma, into the cool passageway that frightened her as much as it excited her. Her bottom lip trembled as she shivered, but she kept a firm grip on Emma's hand and tried to stay quiet. "Emma," she whispered. "It's cold and dark."
She understood why the secret hall was chilly once they came to a door and she stepped out into the moonlit garden. Fresh snow crunched under their boots as they moved away from the castle and towards the trees in the orchard. They went into another cold hall, no warmer than the outdoors, and Regina hurried to keep up with Emma. "If only it was summertime," she whimpered and her teeth began to chatter. "You'll just have to hold me close and keep me warm."
"I love the winter." Emma whispered, her hot breath turning to white mist as she slipped her arm around Regina's waist to pull the girl back against herself. "Everything looks so deceptively fragile, and beautiful—but deadly. The air smells so crisp and clean, the scent of frost excites the nose and burns the lungs, the sky turns to the richest of blues, and the stars…" Emma pressed her cheek against Regina's and raised her free hand up to point out of the window at the twinkling lights above. "They sparkle so vividly, like a constant magic far beyond our reach."
For a precious moment Emma fell silent and the embrace lingered until the tell tale tingle of warning left her fingertips numb. "You'll be thankful of the cold soon enough." Emma promised as she stepped back, and strode towards the fireplace, which was stocked with wood and dry hay already. She thrust the torch briefly into the left side and held it there as the fire stretched out, crackling and consuming the brittle kindling. Then she slotted the torch into the empty place on the stone wall and watched Regina's face as the room came to life in the roar of the fire. Golden light erupted from the hearth and coated the walls in a friendly glow, highlighting the decorations and furnishings while leaving the corners draped in shadows.
"Long before I was ever allowed to practice with a real sword my father would bring me here. It became a space for my training. Not just with weapons, you see—anyone with a blade can be dangerous, but not everyone without them can fight. He taught me that at a young age, and I've never forgotten the importance of it." Emma grinned then, and as she walked around, her silhouette appeared on the walls behind her. "I would often be found fighting my own shadows and make believe monsters when I should have been attending teas and being measured for gowns." The jovial way Emma waved her hand and the soft curling of her lips spoke volumes of the fond memories she'd had as a child. "As I grew, it became a sanctuary of sorts, where I could be at one with my thoughts and learn my skills when I wished."
As she spoke, Emma motioned to the floor, and ushered Regina to take off her boots as she did the same. Thick, fur rugs covered the majority of the floor, and they felt springy to walk upon. It ensured that any tumble taken wouldn't seriously injure anyone. The clothes Regina now wore were very similar to what Emma had on herself, and she waved the brunette closer with a coy look. "I'm sure you're wondering what we're doing here and why I'm telling you this, but given that our time together during the day is closely monitored, I thought this would be our best chance to go about working on your fighting skills. Now," Emma smirked, raising her chin slightly as if readying herself, "try to hit me. Then we'll work on it from there."
Regina gaped at her surroundings in amazement and still fumbled with the scuffed boots she wore. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and smiled tenderly at Emma, feeling suddenly uncertain and out of her depth. With a careful step forward, Regina placed her hand on Emma's arm, then balled her fist and gave the taller girl a tap on the shoulder. "I can't," she quietly insisted.
Golden eyebrows came together in a perplexed line as Emma took in the defeated stance of her betrothed. Where had that fiery passion gone from their time in the library? "Yes you can," Emma stressed with conviction. It had never struck her that Regina would give up before she'd even begun, and so for a long moment Emma stood there, thinking.
Regina's face burned from the changing temperatures in the room, and from embarrassment at her own weakness. She rubbed at her hands and stood poised at the ready, but then she shook her head in defeat. With downcast eyes, she took a shallow breath and then focused back on Emma. "I'm not strong enough."
"Fighting isn't all about strength. It's about precision." Emma stated softly, moving to step behind Regina. She carefully coiled her fingers around the girl's wrists and raised her hands, while her feet gently tapped the brunette's into a better stance. "You don't need to have lots of muscle to be a great fighter. You use your momentum and your body to your advantage. You learn to be fast." Emma encouraged, and turned Regina to face the wall where their combined shadow lurked. "You learn where to strike." Emma used Regina's hands as if they were her own, lashing out first with the left hand straight to the shadow's neck, then the right to its face where its nose ought to be.
Regina jabbed at nothingness, and after a while of Emma guiding her movements, began to gain confidence and speed. She looked down her arm at the powerful hand that gripped her own and back at Emma's face in awe.
The hearth fire bathed them in a warm glow, and their shadows were indistinguishable on the wall, entwined and moving together forcefully. Regina tried to control her punches, afraid of looking graceless or undignified in Emma's presence. She wondered what Emma thought of her ability and steeled herself for any judgments or criticisms. Her posture improved tenfold, and she stared with determination at her invisible opponent, putting in more effort to show Emma she was capable. "Like this?" she asked, but she knew from Emma's expression that her betrothed was impressed.
"Yes." Emma breathed encouragingly, "Just like that." Now that they had started, Emma felt the change within Regina as much as she witnessed it. The brunette slipped with ease into the actions. Her stance reflected the strength Emma had seen inside her since the library, and for a second the young princess got lost in pride. That was all it took for her to be clocked full force in the face, and she staggered sideways as pain exploded through her jaw, blurring her vision for a brief moment.
Regina's small shoulders immediately tensed up in horror, and she reached out to cup Emma's cheek in apology. "I'm so sorry!" she breathed. "Are you alright?" She pushed bunches of blonde curls out of the way and dragged her finger over the reddening mark on Emma's face.
Regina's concern and look of sheer terror evoked rich laughter from Emma, and it tumbled freely from her lips as she stood up straight and proudly displayed the side of her face her betrothed had struck. "I'm better than alright." Emma grinned, her eyes sparkling with something akin to admiration. "The girl I'm to marry can throw one hell of a punch. Just imagine what she can do with a little practice."
Emma sank into a defensive stance, her left foot behind her and her body twisted to the side so she could bounce on her heels. "I think it's time we sparred." The thoughtful tone was offset by the mischievous smirk as she faced Regina. "Try to hit me again." Emma added with unabashed glee. "Worry not, for I won't strike you in return. I'll only help your aim. Go on—strike."
"Absolutely not!" Regina poutily refused. "You're hurt!" She took a long step backwards to show her disapproval, and crossed her arms around herself protectively, but Emma's insistence settled her nerves.
"I'm not hurt," Emma stated with a roll of her eyes and a soft sigh. "I'm pleased. Now raise your fists like this." She lifted her hands up and nodded encouragingly toward Regina as the girl mimicked her fighting stance. It was with a grin that she eyed Regina as the girl listened and moved around her. "You're a quick learner. Not everyone is as quick on their feet after a brief lesson. Good-now keep it up, always be ready to move. It's like dancing, you must stay fluid until the time calls for you to strike or block."
"Do you really think I have a strong punch?" As she snuck a pleased little glance at her own arm, Regina ran her tongue along her bottom lip and then bit back a smile. "I suppose we can practice for a while longer."
Scrunching her nose playfully, Regina moved closer to Emma and with quick footwork, circled around her. She swiped at the air as Emma dodged around her and ducked her attacks. "Will you teach our children how to fight?" she asked without considering the implications of her words.
"Mother says I'm to give you a son," Regina explained, but her voice grew hoarse with embarrassment and she blushed deeply as she realized the error of mentioning such a thing to Emma.
"Of course I'll teach our children to fight. We both will." The response was automatic, as if the idea of two women bearing children wasn't peculiar. Of course, growing up with magic, Emma had always been taught that it was possible. Still, nobody outside of her close circle knew of her abilities; her parents had made sure of that. So it was with a puzzled head tilt that she regarded Regina. Had she somehow known of her magic? No, she'd been careful that first night with using a spell to unfold the bed sheets. Perhaps it was simply a misunderstanding; after all, it was customary to have children so that the kingdom would always have an heir to the throne. Yes, that must be it. It would explain the embarrassment that clung to the girl upon realization of her words.
Regina's next punch was half-hearted and had no hope of meeting its target.
Emma shook her head to snap out of her thoughts and observations, and moved out of Regina's feeble strike towards her. Refusing to allow an air of awkwardness to settle atop them, the blonde princess reached out to pull the brunette close, turning her in the process so that her betrothed had her back pressed against her.
Emma's arms circled Regina, her wrists criss-crossed around the smaller girl's middle, trapping Regina's hands against her own chest. "It's important to know how to escape the clutches of an adversary." Emma's hushed words were warm against Regina's ear, and she pulled the girl closer to herself as she gave instructions. "Palms facing outward-strike down with all your might. At the same time, stomp as hard as you can on my foot and lean forward sharply."
Regina hardly registered anything Emma said at all with their bodies pressed together. Heat spread through her that had nothing to do with shame, and she gaped up at Emma with a furrow in her brow. She followed through with Emma's directions, but her stomp had little to no effect on the princess and she struggled when she tried to free herself. Even by putting all of her strength and weight into it, she flailed helplessly and couldn't break out of Emma's arms. "I'm doomed," she huffed.
Regina slouched into Emma and then shrugged the princess off to cross the room in a few, flustered steps.
"I don't believe that for a second." Emma retorted easily, and if she was amused by Regina's inability to break free, she kept it to herself. The faint floral scents that clung to the brunette lingered around Emma, even after the princess had wriggled free of her grasp. It was light, just enough to tickle the senses. Emma couldn't quite place the scents but she enjoyed them.
When Emma came up behind her in an attempt to comfort her, Regina spun around quite suddenly and distracted her betrothed with a gentle caress. "I suppose I'll just have to be fast enough so no one can ever catch me," she smirked, and then darted away.
A shiver trickled deliciously down Emma's arm in the wake of Regina's touch. Startled laughter bubbled up and shook her shoulders as she watched her betrothed dance out of reach with mischief in her eyes. "Playing to your strengths is never a bad thing." Emma agreed delightedly. Already her feet carried her in mock pursuit, her toes digging into the thick fur rug while her hands reached outwards in an attempt to catch Regina. She made a move as if to go left, but a quick turn saw Emma moving right, and as she snared the brunette's wrist with her hand, a roguish grin etched on her features. "Providing it's not being used against you."
"Maybe I'm exactly where I want to be. Put your arms around me, Emma. There's no one to see, and my mother's spell seems somehow weakened." Regina coiled her arms around Emma's waist and enfolded her betrothed into an innocent hug. She batted her long lashes over bright, hopeful eyes and sweetly nuzzled Emma. "We should practice dancing again. Can you believe we'll be dancing together at our wedding in less than a week? Only a few short days really." Her stomach rolled with anticipation, and she timidly pressed herself into Emma. As she gazed up at the one she was destined to marry, she felt truly happy—happier than she had ever been in her own recollection, and at peace with the way their arrangement had turned out.
After a few spins and turns around the room, Regina also found herself dizzy with exhaustion. "I hate for our night to end, but you ought to take me back to my room before we're discovered."
Emma saw from the window that dawn was not far off, and so they slipped down the corridor through which they came; they went back along the chilly path to Regina's quarters.
Regina removed the borrowed clothing in the darkness and smoothed out her nightdress as she crawled back into bed. She clasped Emma's hand until her betrothed withdrew, and her fingers were still curled when Cora burst into her bedroom before first light.
"Mama?" Regina woke up with a scratchy throat and a fever that left her cheeks burning hot. She coughed into an embroidered handkerchief while her mother honed in on her and frantically checked her temperature.
"Guards," Cora howled. "Call for the palace doctors. It's an emergency."
"But I'm fine," Regina sulkily argued. "I'm getting up. I want to see Emma—"
Her requests fell on deaf ears, and she remained lying in bed for the better part of the morning as a dwarf with spectacles mixed an herbal remedy for her cold. She grimaced as she swallowed down the thick paste that consisted of ground up leaves. If she cooperated, she assumed she would be allowed to visit with Emma.
Down the hall, Emma fussed with her shirt in front of the mirror and sighed at her hand maidens. "Well when can I see her?" She'd been up before they had even arrived and would have rushed out the door had they not caught her by the arms. Last night played on her mind—the way they'd practiced and the intensity in Regina that had shone as bright as the fire.
"Doc is with her just now." The older handmaiden stated with a roll of her eyes, then added abruptly when she caught the concern etched on the young princess's face, "It's merely a cold, and a worried mother attempting to rid it from her daughter before it fully takes root."
Emma narrowed her eyes, thoroughly unconvinced. Perhaps she had pushed her betrothed too far last night, having her in such a cold room for so long. Regina wasn't used to the cold winters here yet. Impulsively Emma ducked her head as a wave of shame took over; she should have known better, and in her excited attempt to impress she'd done nothing more than make Regina sick.
"Honey." The younger handmaiden supplied softly, her gentle fingers untangling the knots in Emma's hair carefully. "And some of those cinnamon treats you love so much, those will keep her warm."
Emma grinned brightly and turned to press her forehead against the girl's, "You're a genius." She beamed, and barely stood still long enough to have her tied back in a braid. The second it was done she shot off like a horse, running down the hallways and skidding unceremoniously around corners. The kitchen staff had long become used to her antics and rather than shoo her off, they worked around her with amusement.
"They're in a tin at the back." A large man with a cleaver whispered. His ruddy cheeks and dark beard didn't hide his smile, and the twinkle in his eye surely matched Emma's as she all but crawled halfway into a cupboard just to find her treasure. She bumped her head on the way out but it was worth it. With expectant hands she shook the tin next to her ear and grinned at the rattle from inside. "Perfect." She breathed, then peeked inside just to be sure.
On her way out she helped herself to a jar of honey and spoon to accompany it, as she dashed down back up the stairs she passed a delightfully floral arrangement and quickly grabbed a handful. Water dripped and soaked into her shirt but she didn't care, she was going to see Regina.
Regina stared up at the high vaulted ceilings that were painted like an escape to the faraway summer country. Her bedroom made her feel like a queen, even if her mother's presence reminded her that she was only a child who must obey orders. She once worried that she would only have power in her marriage if she could sway and manipulate Emma using the tactics that Cora tried to ingrain in her. After meeting Emma, she realized that she might have some independence without being so vile. Her mind wandered to thoughts of her wedding and the hour when she would be free.
The little dwarf applied a scarf soaked in liniment to her neck, and Regina kept still and quiet as she focused on the future. She'd finally get to experience all that her mother deemed forbidden—traveling and reading, sword-fighting and horseback riding, and her first kiss—all with Emma.
"That should do it," Doc squeaked and pushed up his spectacles. "We should have you feeling better in no time."
"Thank you," Regina softly replied, although the scarf felt tight around her throat.
As Emma unexpectedly sped into the room, Regina sprang up and threw her legs over the edge of the bed. "Emma!" she cried, and when Emma came to her, she slipped into her betrothed's arms and allowed the stronger girl to lift her. She covered her mouth to cough, and then held onto Emma tightly. "I was worried I wouldn't get to see you today," she whispered. "Please stay a while? Mother's forcing me to rest."
The jar of honey and tin of sweets were tossed onto the bed the second Regina leapt up to greet her, Emma clutched the brunette as tightly as the flowers forgotten in her hand. With care, she scooped the girl up and spun her around. "I've missed you." The blonde princess mumbled gently against the sodden scarf stuck to Regina's neck. Already she hated it.
Once she sat the brunette back down on her own feet, Emma thrust the flowers towards her with an excited grin, "Of course you get to see me, in fact I was wondering if you'd like to join me for breakfast?" Ever aware that Cora would play a part in the decision, and that word would get back to her thanks to the attentive handmaidens she'd situated with Regina, Emma added with a smirk, "I'll have a nice room set up with a roaring fire and view of the gardens, so you're out of the main hall, after all it's important you rest, and eat well, especially when you feel poorly. My mother will have already sent word to the kitchen."
It was true, Snow would have already given word to set up a separate room, after all Emma's handmaidens had informed her of Regina feeling unwell, and well the guards would have had to have spoken to the Queen in order to get Doc. Cora may have managed to use magic on Emma without her knowledge or consent, but this was Emma's home, and the blonde could be just as crafty.
With a soft smile, Emma motioned to the gifts, "Honey for your throat and the tin…" She paused in thought then nodded as if to herself. "We'll bring that with us, I don't wish to spoil your appetite." Offering her arm, Emma straightened up and brushed down her shirt, finally noticing the wet patch at the bottom. Hastily she tucked it into her pants and ignored the blush that colored her cheeks.
Regina let out a chuckle and tenderly caressed the pink roses. She found a spot on her dresser to place the bouquet, and one of her handmaidens fetched a vase for Emma's thoughtful gift.
Cora had gone off to attend to pressing business matters, and Emma's invitation was a welcome excuse to leave her bedroom. She could persuade her mother that she was only following instructions to keep Emma happy. On nimble feet, she hurried to grab her robe and bundle herself up. "I suppose a private room would be alright, considering I must stay in my bedclothes."
One of Snow's attendants came to collect Emma, and reported that the Queen had indeed asked her servants to prepare a private breakfast for Regina. They went down the hall to a parlor decorated in pink velvet and foreign drapings, where a table was set with porridge and sausages, and exotic fruits that were hard to obtain in the snowy season. Regina sank down in the chair across from Emma and happily bathed in the heat of the fire. "Mother is very frustrated by my illness, but she says I'm still to have a lesson later this afternoon. How will you spend the day?"
Why anyone would be frustrated by someone falling ill was beyond Emma. It wasn't as if her betrothed had deliberately set out to be stricken by an illness. Emma's brows furrowed together as she stabbed at a sausage and dropped it into her bowl of porridge. "Your cold is most likely my fault, but certainly not yours." The blonde princess sighed at the thought of Cora and used her fork to break the sausage into chunks. She stirred it through her steaming porridge thoughtfully and watched Regina select, and unselect, what she fancied having.
"What kind of lesson?" It was asked curiously, albeit with a slight smile. Regina could read and write perfectly and her skills with numbers were brilliant, she was educated in all the ways Emma had frankly resisted as a child and succumbed to as she grew. Was there anything Cora could teach her that nobody else could, or that Regina could learn herself?
With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Emma added lightly, "I'll no doubt find myself being called on to attend to something. If not, I'll be waiting for your lesson to end."
"Mother teaches me all sorts of things—but especially etiquette," Regina carefully explained as she spooned cinnamon onto her porridge. She had no doubt that Cora's lesson would be related to the upcoming wedding, but she dared not mention that to Emma. Her mother's use of magic caused enough problems already, but she worried about how Emma might react if she discovered how Cora trained her into orderliness and docility.
Regina knew her mother made other arrangements for her future, in case the current agreement with Snow White fell through. She tried to avoid thinking of the alternatives, but a pit of fear in her stomach grew and grew throughout the breakfast.
Her mother came to collect her much earlier than expected. Cora claimed the parlor for herself and herded Emma to the door while the remnants of their morning meal were still hot on the table. "I appreciate your cooperation," Cora clucked at Emma, and then waved the princess from the room as if she was not a guest in the girl's castle.
"I'll show her cooperation." Emma seethed under her breath as the doors to the room were closed by the elder woman, locking everyone else in and her out. Guards weren't necessary down this hall because they were stationed further away ensuring nobody who shouldn't have passage to this area of the castle would get by. Still, Emma swung her head to the left and then to the right, double checking that she, and she alone, would be in the hallway.
The irritation of being brushed aside out of a room in her own home sizzled within her veins and made the young princess feel irrationally wild. That was the third time Cora had belittled her in front of her betrothed, and Emma refused to let there be a fourth. Who did this woman think she was? If her mother or father found out there would be hell to pay.
No, she couldn't rely on her parents to take care of her grievances forever. Though the idea of Cora being reprimanded did so titillate Emma.
Given that her breakfast was still untouched in the room, and she'd been cast out like a stray pup, nobody could say she wasn't justified if she banged relentlessly on the door. Although the noise would draw a crowd, and while she would enjoy Cora's humiliation, Emma didn't wish to bring about such a scenario for her bride.
What was going on in there anyway, and why did it have to happen this very moment? They were to be married; their time together was crucial.
On the other side of the door, Regina did her best not to anger her mother; she tried to make herself seem presentable when she learned they would not be alone for her lesson.
"Our corsetiere will be coming to measure you again," Cora huffed, and then let her fault-finding eye rove over Regina.
Madame Guff, the corsetiere, was a jolly woman who wore bright colors even in the dead of winter and whose reputation for bluntness preceded her. She bustled into the parlor with only a quick curtsy for Cora, and then spun Regina in the direction of the mirror. "No bosom still, I see," she frowned studiously, and yet not unkindly. "Soon—soon."
Guff opened her bags and lifted out silk chemises and nightgowns, the likes of which Regina had never seen before.
"I'm to wear this to bed?" Regina asked in confusion, and her raked her fingertips over the sheer, pale blue fabric. "This won't keep me warm. How am I to sleep in it?"
"Sleep? You won't be sleeping," chuckled Madame Guff, but Cora glared daggers at the unseemly woman.
Impulsively, Emma crouched down to peek through the keyhole; it was hard to see much of anything, but she could have sworn she saw a large woman hand over some slip of fabric. Turning her head, she allowed her ear to press against the cool metal and strained to listen to the conversation. Emma could have sworn she heard Regina say something about being cold while sleeping, and the roguish remarks from the woman brought color to her cheeks.
Regina also blushed and went to the secluded corner of the room to try on one of the silks. She stepped out of her bedclothes and looked at herself in the mirror – her breasts were full and round, even if small, and she boldly wondered what it would feel like to have Emma hold them. It left a pleasant tingling inside of her, but she shrank back in shame and slipped into the fragile nightgown.
Her mind was thoroughly preoccupied with considerations of what married couples did, and though her knowledge of that was sorely lacking, Regina could imagine lying in Emma's arms. Pleasant chills went down her back, but she was shaken from her reverie by Cora's insistence that she come out.
Regina moved away from the curtained area of the room and presented herself to her mother and Madame Guff, who tittered in approval.
"She should have one in blue and one in white," Madame Guff stressed, and produced a selection of white gowns for Cora to see.
"Princess Emma is rather fond of blue," Madame Guff added, and Regina clutched at the soft material as if that thought made her all the more willing to wear it.
"The princess has the tastes of a man, from what I can see," Cora grumbled critically. "Apart from her looks, she's a poor specimen of her sex. But I suppose that's all to our advantage. She's already infatuated with Regina. I didn't expect this union to go off so seamlessly." She rubbed her arthritic hands together and paced the floor, dragging the long train of her dress.
"Mother, I wish you wouldn't speak of her so," Regina courageously piped in, but she was silenced by the sizzle of magic in the air. She moved towards Madame Guff, and took comfort in the presence of the other woman.
"I'll speak of her however I please," Cora groused; then she suddenly tensed and scrunched her wrinkled face in anger. She lifted her hand and blew back the door, then flew towards the unsuspecting princess with rapid speed and seized the girl by the wrist. "How dare you snoop?" Gripping Emma firmly, she pulled the princess inside the room and in a flash, clothed Regina in a proper dress. "This is unacceptable behavior. I shall have to inform your mother. Now, apologize to my daughter at once."
Emma's anger at the things she heard took precedence over the fact that she'd just been caught, and though she was dragged into the room like a wayward orphan, the princess' face reflected nothing of the pain Cora's remarks caused. Oh, but her eyes, they burned with emotion, and once she'd wrenched her arm from Cora she surveyed the room. All but the elder woman looked ashamed, and some even tried to hide their surprise at the rough treatment they'd just witnessed.
"Yes, I dare say it's highly unacceptable." The air in the room thickened with tension, and the women and young maidens that came to help seemed transfixed on what was happening before their very eyes.
Cora hardly noticed anyone else's reaction, and only relinquished her squeezing hold on Emma to turn towards her daughter. "Do you realize how your betrothed has just humiliated you?" she spat.
Conflicted and mortified, Regina could only shake her head and rush to Emma's side. "She wouldn't. It was only an accident. Emma meant to take me to the library after my lesson," she lied, but no one seemed to be listening to her.
Emma not only slipped her hand out as if to shield Regina from Cora, she stepped into the woman's space. Her gaze bore into the elder's challengingly. "Not only did you banish me from the room my mother so kindly set up for your daughter's breakfast, you saw fit to escort me out without so much as allowing me the chance to taste my first meal."
Someone gasped, but Emma straightened up and squared her shoulders, her eyes blazing while her lips tugged into a lazy smirk. "Yes Cora, let us fetch my mother, so we may explain why laid hands on me right after you slandered my character, and while I'm sure your handmaidens would like nothing more than to venture anywhere else in the castle but here, I'd like to express the penalties for lying within these walls can have dire consequences. No doubt it would be easy to state that nobody saw or heard anything, but we do have many ways to pull the truth from someone who's unwilling."
Emma paused to draw breath and let her words sink in. No longer would she be bullied by a woman in her own home, and no more would she take it silently. "As a guest in my home I'm sure you find my approach rather unladylike, but I've never been one to talk behind someone's back when I can do so straight to their face, but then again, I have the tastes of a man, so my rough behavior shouldn't be surprising."
From the corner of her eye, Emma could see two young women barely older than herself exchange an excited, though wordless, look to one another. Evidently nobody dared speak back to Cora Mills. Until now.
Cora momentarily held her tongue, but the older woman looked nothing short of menacing. Her hand shook and twisted her fingers until they were curled and clawlike, but she restrained herself from forming a fireball within her clutches. "You know perhaps I was mistaken," she calmly hissed. "Perhaps this marriage isn't right for my daughter."
Regina threw herself in front of Emma, her lashes instantly wet from tears as she surrendered to her mother's veiled threat. "Mama please," she quietly begged, and clung to Emma. "Don't do this. This is all just a misunderstanding. Isn't it, Emma? Tell her." She experienced a soft sob rising in her throat, and looked to Emma to defend her – not by creating further conflict with her mother, but by letting this incident go overlooked.
With all her might, she tried to pull Emma from her mother, but Cora was unrelenting and her betrothed would not budge.
"I have half a mind to pack your bags Regina, and send you home until we can reach a resolution." Cora sniffed the air haughtily, then snapped her fingers to send the maids off to do as she suggested.
"But I don't want to leave," Regina practically whimpered, and glanced back at Emma in the hopes that the other girl could save her. As the maids and attendants began to leave, her panic grew.
Cora wore a small, triumphant smile that grew steadily as Regina groveled, and she beckoned her daughter forward to envelop the girl in a hug. "Calm yourself, dear," she whispered soothingly. "I was only testing your betrothed. It's very clear to me that Emma is in love with you. Aren't you, princess?" She glanced back at Emma, and lightly placed a hand over the blonde girl's shoulder. "I just wanted to send the maids off so they wouldn't have to listen to our private conversations. You must understand that my daughter is the apple of my eye, Emma, and I don't want to lose her to just anyone. You seem right for the job."
Regina distrusted her mother's speech, but she was content that she would remain at the castle with Emma. "Thank you mother," she muttered tearfully, and returned the hug.
Silently, Emma took it all in. The glee behind Cora's eyes as her daughter begged, the way Regina so willingly bent for the woman's will, and how undeniably predatory the older woman's grip was on her shoulder. Emma wasn't a fool, and she stared solemnly back at Cora as her betrothed coiled herself around the evil woman. It became clear that Regina wanted, more than anything, to please her mother and to be loved in return, but Emma had to wonder at what cost.
Cora could not be trusted; that much was certain, but what could she do now? The small voice in the back of her mind suggested she lock Cora in a cell and proceed with the wedding, but given the display from Regina, it was unlikely the girl would want to marry if her mother was left to rot out of sight.
Emma had barely opened her mouth when Snow and a following of handmaidens walked into the room. The smile on the Queen's face was fixed as she caught sight of the untouched spread of food, and she cocked her head to the side. "Was there an issue with breakfast?"
"No. I've been looking forward to having it with Regina all morning," Emma stated flatly.
Snow kept her eyes off of Emma, because she could sense the anger seeping from her, and instead focused on Regina, who turned a ghastly shade of pale under her gaze. Anyone could see the girl was terrified, and she would get to the bottom of it later when she could speak to Emma alone. "Why don't we all sit down and have some, hm? I slipped away so I could join you this morning. Come, let's eat." Snow ushered everyone to the table, and with ease, situated herself between Cora and Regina, allowing Emma to be seated with her betrothed.
Regina's breath stuck in her throat from the stress of it all, and she silently wrapped her hand over Emma's arm as if she was afraid of letting go. She ate meekly, in small bites that she hardly tasted, but she politely murmured, "this is wonderful" and "thank you" to Queen Snow. Her mind was preoccupied with the thought that the Queen might banish her mother from the kingdom, and if her mother left, she would have no choice but to follow. She knew with a certainty that the fragile happiness she enjoyed over the past days was bound to shatter. All of the joyful moments in her life were like breakables, and the more treasured ones also tended to be the easiest to destroy.
Regina tried her hardest to keep her face clear of emotion—but it was an impossible task when she felt so vulnerable. She tugged at the scarf that still shielded her neck, and stared at her grainy porridge until she composed herself.
In spite of all of her fears, she dared to hope and dream of her wedding day – especially as Snow talked of the preparations that were already underway in the ceremonial hall. She made a silent wish that she wouldn't be disgraced.
