Emma had never had a best friend before, especially not a girl. She had never lived long enough in the same place to make one. There was Neal of course, but then Neal was a lot like a big brother to her, even if she knew he wanted to be more than that.
But Regina was a whole new thing – an amazing new thing. It was as if they were two halves of the same person, from hugely different backgrounds, but seeming to understand each other like no one had ever been able to before. Emma was fascinated by Regina's brilliant mind, strong will and endless talents, and Regina by Emma's resourcefulness, sense of freedom and self-reliance.
Emma loved spending all the time she could with Regina. She had changed her gardening hours so that she would work while Regina was attending her clubs. She studied with Regina after class, and was actually starting to get better grades. Maybe thanks to her new tutor she would walk out of high school a graduate after all. Regina loved spending time with Emma because things were easier with her. It was no use putting on an act, Emma could see right through her – maybe she was the first person besides her father who just liked her for who she really was.
On some afternoons and week-ends, Emma took Regina to the places she liked, which made Regina feel terribly daring, and sometimes a bit afraid, since she was not used to diverse neighbourhoods at all, but Emma could really take care of herself in such an environment, and made sure to keep her safe. Regina was not so much in danger than confused by a whole new set of social rules she hadn't quite worked out yet, and she marvelled at Emma being so street wise.
On other times, they stayed at the Mills' mansion, always when Regina's mother was not at home. Cora Mills was a very busy woman and seldom there at all. Regina didn't talk much about her, but Emma could tell she was afraid of her. On the contrary, Regina adored her father, a charming aging man who considered her the apple of his eye and always made Emma feel welcome when she came. It was weird for Emma to leave the tiny shelter bedroom she had to share with random other girls, and walk into Regina's huge mansion with its countless rooms, Olympic-sized pool and private park. And she hadn't seen the country house yet, which was in a place in Maine called Storybrooke.
Most of the time though they stayed in Regina's bedroom, which was big enough to accommodate all of Emma's shelter mates, but was not in fact as exuberantly luxurious as Emma had expected. The Mills were old money, and Regina definitely had sober tastes, classy but not showy. Her bedroom did feature a queen-sized four-poster bed and a few well-chosen pieces of furniture, among which an impressively filled wall-to-floor bookcase, but her room was neat and well-kept. It contained next to nothing pink, and lacked most teenage girl things such as posters of gorgeous youths, stuffed animals, random piles of CDs and various knick-knacks covered in hearts and glitter. If anything, Regina's room reflected a very controlled self, most of which was carefully kept hidden to view.
Regina did have a lot of expensive clothes and shoes in a big walk-in closet, and they both loved to try them on endlessly, snorting and taking mock poses in front of Regina's cheval mirror. Emma, who had been wearing cheap tennis shoes for most of her life, tried on a pair of Regina's stilettos and discovered that walking in high heels was trickier than it looked. She practiced walking across the room, giggling and losing her footing on the thick carpet, while Regina coached her from her window seat, laughing and taking pictures of her with her phone. Time always passed too fast when they were together.
One day, Regina opened her walk-in closet and used the stepladder to retrieve a large portfolio from one of the top shelves. She opened it on the bed and showed Emma an impressive collection of drawings and watercolour paintings representing imaginary places and fantasy characters. "Did you do this?" breathed Emma, marvelling at all the minutely drawn details. "Yeah, it's kind of a hobby. When I was little, I was read a lot of fairytales at night before sleeping. I hated fairytales, they scared the hell out of me, but my mother thought they built character or something. I couldn't sleep with those awful pictures in my head – girls cutting pieces of their feet to fit into a too-small shoe, or dying from cold, or losing the ability to speak so that they could have legs for a few hours, and so on, they gave me nightmares – so I started drawing to get them out of my head. Now it's become a habit. Whenever I need to clear my mind, it helps me relax."
"A habit you could make a living from! You are very talented, Regina. I can't believe you haven't signed up to a single art club!"
"My mother doesn't know about this. Please don't say anything, OK? Last thing I need is for her to imagine I want to become an artist! I'm pretty sure she'd ship me off to young managers' camp right away to make me come to my senses."
"Don't worry, even if she wanted to, it's impossible to keep you from drawing. It's something you can do almost anywhere, using almost anything! And hey, her loss. Your artwork is really good."
"Yeah, well. Anyway, I think you'd make a perfect new character. Do you mind modelling for me?"
For all her dreams of ruling the Internet economy, Regina was a talented artist who had succeeded in creating her own imaginary world, and she seemed determined to paint Emma into it. "This is the Enchanted Forest." she explained. "Of course I am the queen of this kingdom. I created it after all. So it's only fair I should have a castle. A beautiful palace inside, but also a real Gothic castle, something strong, impressive and pointy, with turrets and crenels and ditches in case there is an attack, see? That idiot Snow White would live in that little cottage in that clearing with the dwarves… What do you think?"
"Why idiot?" asked Emma.
"Well, because she's such a weak and uninteresting character, always having to be saved by some man. The woman who really rules the story is the Evil Queen, you know."
"Interesting theory", said Emma with a smirk. No doubt Regina was determined to become the most powerful woman she could, and it was quite an attractive side of her. "And what would I be in your world?" she asked, "I'm not magic, I'm not special. I can't do anything."
"You", said Regina, "have nothing to do with those pitiful so-called heroines. You'll be the Savior. Way better than those ridiculous princes. You'll be my savior."
Emma's stomach gave a weird little twitch. "Her savior! I wonder what I have to save her from", she thought. "All right!" she smiled, "Savior it is!"