Sic Semper Tyrannis

Note: In my mind – crowded, icky place - the Enchanted Forest is a part of Fairy Tale Land, the kingdom ruled by Snow White. I know, I should come up with another, more realistic sounding geographic name. But no. Because it is so in the crowded, icky place above my shoulders. I do hope you keep reading, though.

Chapter Seven

Regina woke up to the smell of coffee. She ventured out and found Emma seated on the bottom of her stairs.

"Hey." She said as she looked up and gave Regina a half smile and half-grimace.

Regina gave a sleepy sigh and joined Emma. She belatedly tried to recall where she put her robe as she sat in her nightie.

For her part, Emma busied her eyes with other things when she saw what Regina was not wearing. Trust her to still not dress like a slob while in solitary confinement.

The mayor took a sip from the cup of coffee she slowly took out of Emma's hands.

"Want me to get you your own cup? I was gonna make you one but I didn't know how long you would be asleep."

With a scratchy voice, Regina answered, "No, I'll have some more later." She put her hand on Emma's thigh as she struggled to get back up. "I'm still a little out of it so let's get comfortable over there."

Emma followed as Regina lay down on the couch. Instead of sitting on the arm chair across it, Emma sat on the floor with her back next to the couch and Regina's head close to hers.

"What's wrong?"

"Ugh. Asking me what's right would be a much shorter list." Emma looked up at the woman next to her, and found it hard not to blurt out how much younger and attractive she looked sans make up. "Would it be considered an act of war if someone accidentally killed a messenger reading out a dowry list? A list that included 40 healthy cows?"

"You're an eligible royal. Marriage proposals come with the territory."

"Well, the good news is that no one, I mean no one – including you, no one can call me worthless anymore. I'm forty cows walking, baby!"

"You are ridiculous. Not worthless, true, but extremely silly."

"Maybe if I stepped out of the way and let Henry be Crown Prince, there would be less of that bullshit."

"Don't. There's always danger to being in line for the throne, no matter how peaceful the times appear to be." She shifted upwards to rest against the arm of the sofa. "You would make an excellent human shield for him - all brave and impulsive and noble," she added in a teasing tone.

"You just called me a stoopid, you over deyrrrr."

"Would I do that?"

"Only since day one."

"Day two."

"Oh, really," Emma said as she moved from the floor to sit on the couch, squishing Regina's legs. "After that disapproving look at my clothes and my car?"

"Was it undeserved?"

Emma put her mug down on the table and said, "You know what, I'm here on a mission, and I need to tell you about it but after you put some clothes on, instead of lounging there like you're waiting for a photographer or somebody."

Regina looked at her intently then and waited for the blonde to continue. She slowly drew her legs up, knowingly exposing more of herself. She watched as Emma looked up at the ceiling and then passed it off as merely rolling her eyes.

"Aww... still haven't found the right friend with benefits? Maybe you should try the nymphs again."

"Christ, no. and you could have told me about their... floral-scented hoohas. And how needy they were." She said as she headed out the door and to the kitchen.

"I told you they fed off flattery and would do anything for you as long as you keep telling them how beautiful they were." Regina followed suit, "As for their unusually sweet smelling, uhm, parts...I didn't want to ruin the surprise."

"I want and expect a woman to taste and smell like a woman. Those nymphs are just.. wrong. That detail ruined it. They were all perfect looking and perfect smelling and just too much perfection. Plus my brain hurt from having to think of different ways to tell them that they are SO hot."

"What about anyone of the less fair sex?"

They crossed the foyer and Emma began to head towards the kitchen. "See, now I know that you definitely hate me."

"I don't hate you, Sheriff, unless you touch anything else in my kitchen."

"Hey, you already let me do the dishes the past couple of dinners I had here."

"Each time with my supervision."

"Huh. That is true." Emma sounded as if she did think about it before confirming what the other woman said. "Get decent. Or dressed. Whichever would take sooner."

Regina was halfway up the stairs when Emma reappeared, "do me a favor, wear casual clothes. The suits make me nervous." Emma didn't hear the rest of what was said but she was sure she heard the formal wear of her world compared to peasant swaddle unworthy of a queen.

"So what's this mission you speak of?"

Emma appraised what the other woman was wearing, and she was glad to see her in comfortable jeans and a black tee.

"First of all, lookatchu... walking around without the stick up your ass! Yay!" She paused to receive a smirk from the Mayor. "Second, it's serious business about a magical version of the panic room. And third, Woman, I am guest here. Make me a sandwich."

Regina began rooting around for the demanded food while saying, "First, stop ogling and don't even think of using nymph-tested ways on me. The second matter we shall discuss after I've had an entire cup of coffee. Third, you're a pest, not a guest but I shall still feed you. I'm classy that way."

"Annndd you don't trust me to make my own food and ruin your immaculate kitchen. Hey, speaking of nymphs, want me to smuggle you one?" Emma was initially kidding when she said that, but these days she finds herself increasingly goading Regina, hoping to embarrass her. Or ...something.

"No, thank you. One pest is enough."

"Just worried about you. I mean... you know, needs and all..."

"To paraphrase one Woody Allen, I am perfectly fine having sex with someone I love." She said as she wiggled the fingers of her right hand.

"Sex with someone you lurrvvrve a lot."

"Can you blame me?" She gave Emma an exaggerated batting of her eyelashes.

"No blame. Just worried about your large, large head."

"Shut up."

With a smile, Emma began talking about other topics, mostly about Henry and former Storybrooke citizens. She also spoke about the strange courtship between Nova and Grumpy. Whenever they raised the topic of the people who suffered the curse, Emma finds herself wary. Regina politely and distantly reacts to those news. It was as if she were afraid that at any moment they would show up with the mob's thirst for revenge. The truth is, every now and then, some of them would get together and remember that Storybrooke wasn't all bad. Ruby certainly missed being free of her wolf; she liked the theory that her wolf manifested as her uber-flirtatious ways in their alternate life. Emma was quick to counter that in any existence, Ruby was meant to be a horndog.

"About this panic room..." Emma started as soon

"I think the castle is fortified enough with physical and magical means without having to add to it. Anyway, you have enough experts and magical beings at your disposal to help you achieve whatever you want. I don't see why you have to ask an ex-sorceress."

"Heh. Sorceress. It makes you sound like an 80s cartoon character."

"I do appreciate your efforts to keep me occupied."

"That's not—"

"Emma," Regina waited until the other woman met her eyes, "Thank you." She straightened up a bit then continued, "Now tell me more about our son. Unless he's misbehaving terribly, in which case he's your son."

"Oh, gee, thanks. I'll have you know that our son is busy with an autobiography of sorts, one tentatively called, The Storybrooke Chronicles of Henry Mills, Prince of Fairy Tale Land. I told him the title sounded stupid." She baited Regina with the last statement and was not disappointed.

"He may be overenthusiastic at times but he is never stupid."

"Well, expect those "Hi, Hello" letters to change soon. Because if your son is as brilliant as you think he is, he might want some input from you."

"You made him write those letters."

"Again, no." Emma began to tidy the table.

"Tell him I think his work is going to be wonderful."

"Will do." While washing the dishes, Emma asked, "Would you be willing to, you know, receive visitors? Friendly visitors, I assure you."

"Again, with the nymphs?" Regina teased.

"I meant Ruby, maybe, and Kathryn and Frederic...others."

After a few moments of silence, Regina said, "You decide. I would, however, request a brief warning before anyone shows up. I wouldn't want to welcome anyone into a sty."

Emma wished everyone could see this Regina; unfortunately, most everyone else wished that Emma saw the Evil Queen instead. "Do you mind if I crash in the guest room, maybe until tomorrow?"

"Hiding from the world, Sheriff Swan?"

"Wanna coddle a slacker? A slacker worth 40 cows, at least?"

"I'll either be in the study or at the garden. If you get hungry and you feel like endangering my kitchen with your lethal skills, find me; touch nothing."

Chores done, Emma wearily plopped down her temporary bed – after taking off her boots. We're not even dating and already she's changing me. For the fucking better, even.

When she finally asked her mother about the records from Regina's time, Snow told her in a hard voice that they have been destroyed and only the barest of details were to be included in the newer records. The purging had been necessary, she said, because they were testament to the shame that their kingdom now bear because of Regina's many atrocities.

"She probably doesn't even remember most of them. I do hope she remembers Lord Bertrand, who was killed by his own wife. She did it in exchange for Regina sparing their children. The Queen was just starting out then, warming up, so to speak. He was singled out because he was like an uncle to me."

Emma thought she knew, or could guess, how Regina earned the title Evil Queen. But reconciling that with the Regina of New Storybrooke is doing her head in. This Regina – her Regina, really, since she's the only one who gets to see her like this – her Regina was a woman who must have been such a tender soul at some point to have been so utterly deluged by pain and anger that she ultimately chose vengeance as her path. Too many people were so eager to vilify her for her choices without bothering to take her circumstances into account.

"She changed," Ruby said, "back in Storybrooke, with Henry. I could sense it, I didn't know what it was at the time or how I could possibly know it. But the anger lessened, even back then. Until the long-lost saviour arrived and she was on hyper-alert mode."

"Hey, the kid came looking."

"Yeah, you watch that boy or he will make you a grandmother all too soon."

"Oh, fuck you for that. Stop messing with me."

"Imagine how fun it would be to use that to mess with your mother."

The current arrangement for Regina was always meant to be temporary; Emma argued that keeping her there would be tantamount to keeping her buried alive and alone, impervious to time and safe from death. Sooner or later, she would wish for death, likely driven to it by her solitude – the worst curse imaginable, as the woman herself described it.

Emma's primary reason for going to this Storybrooke was not because she wanted to be kind; she was drawn here by curiosity and a sense of alienation from her new and charmed life. This house was a reminder of the things she knew, the life she had before Henry came to find her. In a way, she was the Swan who would always be the ugly duckling, the oddity. She was a symbol for the happy endings that they wanted and fought for. And Henry was the happiest of endings, the future king who belonged, who was adored. Emma would have endured anything to see him so happy and content; She now understood Regina's efforts to keep her from upending his life.

But now, this limbo she intrudes upon, this is where she feels most her self. This place that houses those who do not quite belong - this is the place her heart seeks out.

Emma falls asleep as she imagines Sidney back in Storybrooke writing the following headline: Sheriff voluntarily locks self inside cell, possibly suffering from Reverse Stockholm Syndrome.