Thanks again for all the favs, follows and reviews! Hope you're enjoying this story. Things may become clearer in this chapter, though they also get a bit darker. Let me know what you think!
SQSQSQSQ0
In the days following Liath's departure, the wind moaned a continuous refrain. The stone cottage was buffeted by unceasing gusts, the little window panes rattling in their frames. It growled across the island, ever present and rising in deafening crescendo at unpredictable intervals. The noise was unlike anything Regina had ever encountered, a menacing presence snarling in the background, unnerving her as it blew.
The sea was high, great banks of foaming water repeatedly flung against the stony shore with thunderous booms. Few birds or seals braved the conditions, life hunkered down for the moment. Though heavy clouds spat rain with no discernible pattern, it didn't feel like a storm. It felt as though the land was alive, the island an unhappy animal desiring to scratch at a flea just beyond its reach.
Regina found it incredibly discomfiting. As predicted, she hadn't been sleeping well. The wind truly found its voice at night, drowning out all other sound and often startling her awake with particularly vicious gusts. Her dreams had been muddled, too, short and difficult to recall in the morning.
In an effort to keep herself occupied, Regina had taken up Liath's suggestion of knitting after three days of increasing boredom. She had helped herself to the better quality balls of yarn and a fine pair of wooden knitting needles. Liath had in her possession a book of patterns and she'd decided to begin with a pair of socks, mostly because her feet were cold a lot of the time.
The wool was greasy and didn't have the most pleasant aroma, but she knew it was quite waterproof. She was slightly concerned that her boots, though well made, would not survive forever when faced with sharp shards of flint littering the island. It was as though the beast had teeth, she mused.
Bran lifted his head to her, his watery eyes calm. He was the less excitable of the pair, his brother Sceolta restive and easily bored. Bran crossed to her, lying at her feet in front of the hearth. She ran a gentle toe down his broad back, not pausing in her knitting.
She sighed. Liath had been gone for days now, more than a week, and Regina was beginning to feel the effects of isolation. She'd never been the most sociable of people, but she found herself restless, unable to settle and relax into the quiet rhythms of life in the cottage. She had little enough to do, in reality. Preparing her food
and minding the dogs didn't take up much time. She walked the island as much as she could, in the hours before dusk when the wind sometimes allowed a grudging reprieve. Even when she'd been essentially imprisoned in Leopold's castle, there had been people there to speak to. She shook her head, deciding to reflect on her journey to this place, rather than reminisce about that period of her life.
After being catapulted back to the Enchanted Forest, and regaining Misthaven Castle from her sister, she'd locked herself away in her rooms in, occasionally visiting her mother's vault to collect materials and spell books. Snow had officially rescinded her banishment and she existed as a strange sort of advisor to the crown. None of them really trusted her much, but she'd made herself useful. Her experience ruling, both as queen and mayor, had been helpful in trying to restore the kingdom to some semblance of order.
Setting her knitting aside, she swung the copper kettle over the fire, standing to fix herself some nettle tea. She had been tolerated at court, architect of both the curse and its destruction. As insufferably idealistic as the White Queen and her friends were, they were also pragmatic enough to not look a gift horse in the mouth, not when a powerful witch was threatening them. Snow was also clearly trying to mend things between them, to atone for all the hurts she'd inflicted upon Regina. She still wasn't entirely how she felt about this, but had been too wearied from grief to offer more than a token protest.
She tipped some dried leaves into a little ceramic pot, waiting for the kettle to boil and retrieving the honey. Sceolta wagged his great tail, treating her to a panting grin. The hounds had boundless energy, but when properly exercised were more than happy to loll around the floor.
"If they could see me now," she mused, earning a more enthusiastic bout of wagging. She'd left Misthaven Castle in a handsome carriage with a retinue of knights. Belle had accompanied her for several weeks, surprising Regina by being quite the pleasant travelling companion. As time had passed and their trail grew more nebulous, they'd agreed that Belle should return to conduct further research. Regina had saddled one of the horses and exchanged her gown for riding gear. She'd taken a few knights with her, dispatching the rest with Belle to protect her from any residual ogres or bandits.
As the weeks passed, she sent more of the knights home as their presence became a hindrance. She found herself further from Misthaven, or her own home, than she'd ever been, far beyond their borders. The people were wary of her wealth and status, and terrified of her magic. They were a cautious folk, civil but not welcoming. It was as though the desolation of the land and the effort needed to survive there had left them hardened. Grim and unfriendly, they were nevertheless honourable after their own manner and eventually a blind crone had whispered to her of a hermit on a island.
Shedding the last of her jewels, wrapping her sable cloak around her, she'd headed to the far north with a pair of knights, using little magic and enjoying cool hospitality in ramshackle inns and barns. Eventually, she'd been pointed to a path leading to the coast, too narrow for the horses, and she'd headed alone. Three days later and she'd caught her first glimpse of the island, a solid outcropping of stone against the roiling grey sea. The path led to a fishing village and she'd secured passage off shore.
Her tea steamed in the mug, warming her nose and fingers. She returned to her chair, gazing into the fire. Sods of turf glowed in the grate, emitting a soft light and plentiful warmth. She wondered, fleetingly, what her mother would have had to say about this. Living like a peasant, tramping to the edge of the known world on a fool's errand.
She would have hated the idea, of course. Cora Mills had violently opposed the notion that her daughter might have behaved as anything less than a queen. The memory of her mother left her uneasy and her mind wandered to Henry. Her throat and heart ached at the thought of him. He'd have been utterly thrilled with all this, a grand adventure to save his aunt or uncle from his aunt.
She lifted her knitting again, suddenly aware of just how far she was from anything. From other people, from Misthaven, from her son. The wind found its voice again, shaking the door in its jamb. Loneliness crept into her, her heart aching with want for Henry. She willed her shaking hands to steady and continued with her task.
She'd finish this pair for herself, she decided, desperately needing something to occupy her mind. The next pair would be for Henry.
SQSQSQSQ
Emma was flicking through her mail, Henry trailing behind her, when they encountered a woman fumbling with the door to the stairwell. Emma recognised her as a new inhabitant of the building who'd appeared several weeks previous. Smiling, Emma held it open, earning a grateful grin.
"Thanks," she said, juggling the muddy gear in her hands. "I'm losing that particular battle today, I think."
Henry smiled widely. "Doors can be tricky things!" He gawked at the items she was carrying and she noted his interest, chatting as they ascended the stairs.
"I'm just back from a three day hike."
"Oh, cool!' he exclaimed. "Isn't that such a neat vacation idea, ma?"
Emma lifted an eyebrow, familiar with the wheedling tone in Henry's voice. He'd been contemplating a holiday for a while now and none of his suggestions involved sitting on a hot beach, disappointingly for her.
"Trudging around the wilderness, sleeping rough? Ain't exactly my idea of a relaxing vacation, kid."
"Nor mine," the woman snorted. "I'm a guide."
Henry gasped at that. "You go exploring for your job!?"
She snorted. "No, I keep corporate groups and stag parties alive in national parks. But it does pay the bills."
They all exited the stairs on the same floor, strolling down the corridor. "Well, pleased to meet you," Emma said. "We're in 402 if you need anything."
"Thank you," she replied, warmly. "I'm at the end of the hall, right in the corner. Same to you."
Emma let Henry into their apartment and set about making dinner, thoughts of their new neighbour vanishing in the familiar comforting hum of domestic life.
SQSQSQSQ
Regina found herself walking down a long, dark corridor. Candles flickered in iron sconces, barely lighting the way. Though darker than it had ever been in reality, she recognised her rooms in Leopold's castle. She could hear a storm hurling itself against the stone castle walls and shuddered with cold. She was wearing a thin, diaphanous gown and her hair was loose around her shoulders. She crossed her arms, feeling exposed in the echoing hall.
She entered slowly, cautiously. A small, dark haired figure sat before her vanity, back turned to her. She was wearing a gown that had been a particular favourite of Snow's and a hairbrush was sitting beside her. At one stage, it had been a nightly occurrence, the child still treating her as a new mother.
Anguish gripped her, tightening her throat. Snow called to her, her voice lilting. Regina found herself unable to stop from moving, lifting the hairbrush and gently combing Snow's long hair. The child was humming to herself and Regina felt something akin to longing in her chest. To be so young and innocent, she mused, to be the teenager who could have perhaps forgiven Snow, had malign forces not intervened.
"Why are you so sad?" Snow asked, her voice startling Regina somewhat.
"I'm not, dear," she said, "merely tired." She dropped her gaze to the floor, movements slowing until she came to a stop. Snow's hair truly was beautiful, as glossy as a raven's feather and softer than down.
Snow was quiet for a long moment and Regina bit her lip. "I suppose I am sad. I lost the person I love the most."
Old memories, violent and spiteful and so terribly familiar, reared in her chest. Except now, rather than Daniel's lifeless eyes, she saw her son's. Full of mischief and curiosity and affection. She watched them fall from hers as he loaded himself into Emma's car, leaving her forever. The anger though, the desire to wound and lash out was the same though, as familiar as a well worn glove. She clenched her fist around the brush, bringing it away from Snow's hair with a shaking hand. The child turned around to her, though the face that lifted itself had changed. She saw herself, young and guileless and unscarred.
"Love, true love, is the most powerful magic of all. It creates happiness," the child said, with shining eyes.
Regina drew in a breath and the desire to hurt and lash out intensified tenfold, her heart screaming in her chest.
"No," she snapped. "It creates pain."
The child gazed at her, trusting and sure as Regina's hand trembled with the desire to tear her heart out.
SQSQSQSQ
Waking soaked with sweat, Regina launched herself out of bed, stumbling and falling to the ground. The dogs whined, but she paid them no heed. She scrambled to pull her boots and tunic on, choking and gasping for air. The walls of the cottage were closing in around her, stifling and suffocating.
Her eyes were burning and her chest tight as she sucked in desperate breaths. Staggering to the door, she collapsed out onto the path and fled, blindly running down the path to the beach. The moon was waxing full but rapidly scudding clouds hid its face more than they revealed it. She came to a stop on a sandy patch of ground, falling to her knees, heart hammering in her chest.
The wind whipped her hair around her, icy tendrils finding seams and gaps in clothing. It roared past her ears, competing with the sound of blood pounding within. Cold sprays of water were borne from whitecaps on it, soaking her face. The salt of the sea couldn't compete with that of her tears, scalding as they fell.
The moon slid behind a cloud once more and the shore was left in tumultuous darkness. Regina squeezed her eyes shut and raised her hand to her chest, preparing to rip her heart from within. To her horror, she was unable to do so and she cried out to the night. Her screams were swallowed in the wind on the edge of the world, no star or moon to light her way and no one to witness her anguish.
SQSQSQSQ
Emma woke late one Sunday, with the suspicion she'd been dreaming. She padded into the kitchen, kissing the crown of Henry's head as he shoveled cereal into his mouth. He was reading at the table, one of the many young adult fantasy series he favoured. Emma set the coffee pot to brew and decided to check the mail. She'd meant to do it on her way in from work on Friday, but had completely forgotten. She pulled on a hoodie and her slippers, keys jingling as she jogged down to the
foyer. As she was opening her mail box, the new neighbour entered, carrying a newspaper.
"Oh, good morning!" Emma chirped. "Wow, you might be the last person in New York to actually buy a physical copy of the news!"
She shrugged. "Hate doing the cross word online."
Emma grinned as they made their way upstairs. She studied the other woman curiously. She was at least ten if not twenty years her senior and spoke with an accent, though Emma couldn't place it.
"I'm Emma Swan, by the way," she said, impulsively.
"Liath Doran," she replied. "Pleased to meet you. You're friendlier than most New Yorkers. A pleasant surprise."
Emma shrugged. "I'm not from around here. Neither are you, right?"
Liath chuckled. "You're entirely correct."
They entered their hall and the rich aroma of coffee drifted out to greet them. Emma groaned and Liath raised an eyebrow. "Don't judge me, that coffee is amazing." She blinked. "Actually, you want to come in for one?"
Liath seemed surprised but nodded. "I'd be delighted to."
They entered the apartment, Emma calling out to Henry. He seemed delighted to see the woman again and Emma smiled at the sight. They'd had a lot of friends and neighbours in the past and that sense of community was something she'd found herself missing recently. Emma fixed them a mug each and Henry peppered her with questions regarding her job, which he found completely fascinating.
Liath accepted the coffee with a grateful nod. "Thank you. It smells even better close up."
Emma shrugged. "Got the beans from a nice place a few blocks over."
Henry bounced up to the table, his atlas in tow. "Here, I can show you the park we went to when I was eight!" He flicked through the book,grinning the whole time. Liath seemed to bear it with good grace, smiling at the boy.
"It was my mom's birthday," he said, searching for the place. "Ma and me brought cupcakes to surprise her, but someone squashed them."
"Ma and I," she corrected idly, mussing Henry's hair playfully. Liath had a small confused frown on her face and Emma nudged her son. "You want to show Liath your picture?"
Henry nodded enthusiastically, hopping down from the counter and running to his room. He returned with the framed photo he kept beside his bed, a sad expression crossing his face.
"This is us," he told Liath. "Me, ma and mom. My mom died last year," he said in the matter of fact way that children do and it sent a spear of pain lancing through Emma's chest. "We really miss her."
Liath lifted sad grey eyes, sympathy and shock within. "I'm so sorry."
Emma nodded, gazing at the photograph, taking in the scene. Regina was sandwiched between them both, her face shining with happiness. Emma had taken the selfie, her other arm wrapped around her Regina's waist. God, she could almost feel the warmth and solidity of the other woman in her arms, even now.
Henry started regaling them with tales of the trip, Liath listening attentively while Emma drifted in and out of the conversation, lost remembering the other woman.
"We have other pictures of her, if you wanna see," Henry offered, sorrow in his piping voice. Liath graciously accepted and they soon found themselves sitting before a photo album, Henry happy to guide his new neighbour through their past. Emma, heart brittle and tender, had to leave them when they came to the wedding photos, wandering in to clean the dishes.
A while later, Liath entered the kitchen, washing her mug.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she said kindly. "What was her name?"
"Regina," Emma said, still savouring the sound of it, even as it stung.
"You were with her for a long time."
"My whole adult life," Emma sighed, leaning against the counter. "There was a car crash last year… We came here to get some space. There were so many reminders at home, you know?"
Liath shook her head, frowning. She bore an odd expression, one of surprise and Emma wondered if she was shocked to hear she'd been married to a woman. People generally weren't, she was pretty obviously out, but you never knew.
"It's horrible. I lost my brother, when we were much younger," she sighed. "Losing someone so close, it's a wound that never fully heals." She gazed out the window, searching within old memories. She gathered herself and nodded. "You loved her."
Emma nodded solemnly. "With all my heart."
Liath appeared much older then, frail and time worn. Her gaze was unfocused, distant and troubled. She seemed to reach some conclusion, nodding to herself.
"Thank you for the coffee, Emma, and the company. I'll see you during the week."
SQSQSQSQ
A figure stood on the roof of a New York City apartment block, indistinct in the dim morning light, a feather in her hand. Slowly, as the first hints of sunrise lent purple hues to the horizon, she raised the feather to her lips.
SQSQSQSQ
Yikes, I actually feel bad for doing this to these poor characters. Stay tuned for the next installment, things will make sense eventually. Thoughts, reviews and feedback all greatly welcomed. Also, if you fancy reading some Hermione/Fleur tales, check out some of my other stories. Forgive the shameless plug!