WHOO! Y'all are fantastic! I love the differing responses from confusion to anger. Regina is wonderfully challenging in this story, and I'm happy that everyone is responding to that.
Enjoy, My Doves! And please, let me know what you think or of any questions you may have.
Songs: Dark Side and Behind These Hazel Eyes by Kelly Clarkson
Emma tapped lightly on the door separating her room from Regina's and adjusted her hair over her shoulders. She'd poured herself into the ridiculous dress that Astrid suggested, a silly emerald green silk number with only one shoulder. It hugged her uncomfortably, squeezing her wounds in all the wrong places, and fell just below her knees. Even more awkward, the cut displayed her hacked chest, her wounds left uncovered. Astrid covered the ones covered by the fabric but assured that displaying the wounds her mistress inflected was appropriate, a source of pride. She trusted the maid's judgment.
The smooth fabric offered a generous view of her meager cleavage, which looked much larger in the padded, push-up, strapless contraption of a bra that her maid forced her into. She swore it would please The Queen, so again Emma bit her tongue and bore it, wanting more than anything to get back into Regina's good graces.
She'd even shaved her legs and pits twice for the occasion. Astrid corrected any makeup clumsiness, adding and removing lipstick and eyeliner until Emma's green eyes popped between the dark circles rimming her eyelids and the shimmering black and brown smoky eye shadow atop them. A muted, natural, light pink gloss covered her lips and tasted horribly, yet Emma bore it all. Dressing for dinner apparently set the tone for the entire evening, according to Astrid. Which meant at 6:50, five minutes after Regina swore to escort her downstairs, Emma sensed immediately that trouble brewed in the Mills household.
She knocked again. "Regina? Is it okay if I come in?"
"Yes," a faint voice replied.
With a steadying breath, Emma opened the door and tried not to fall on her face in the silver pumps that Astrid swore matched her dress perfectly. Regina sat on the edge of the giant bed in the center of the room. A sheer canopy lay on the floor around her, probably torn down during one of her many tantrums in the past two days. The Queen had already dressed in a deep red gown made of velvet. A black lace bodice cut the solid color from the shoulders to the waist, offering a teasing view of the woman's breasts through the holes in the thin fabric. Though there in persona, the woman's mind had obviously drifted far away into the clouds.
Regina held one black, peep-toe stiletto in both hands, the other on its side atop the train of the gown at her feet. Her dark eyes slowly moved to Emma's face after an awkward pause consisting of The Savior fidgeting anxiously while waiting for her mistress' approval of her evening wear. Regina drank her in, and Emma relaxed slightly under the lascivious attention.
"Your hair should be up," Regina commented absently.
"I don't like it up. Astrid said it looked fine. I'm in the damn dress, so leave my hair alone," Emma sniped, crossing her arms like a petulant child. She'd not felt anger towards Regina all day until the moment she set eyes on the woman after the undeserving slap she'd received that morning. Now her chest flushed and burned with the heat tearing through her veins.
"Come here," The Queen ordered softly and pointed to the floor in front of her. Something in Regina's distracted voice splashed water on her temper, and Emma obeyed, mostly out of curiosity. This was a new Regina, a face yet unseen.
She stopped a foot from the bed and uncrossed her arms to hang limply at her hips. Regina dropped the shoe in her hands as she reached out to Emma. Soft hands wrapped around her muscular thighs just above her knees and urged her closer. Emma's brow furrowed and her heart exploded into a thunderous beat, but a part of her whispered that Regina needed whatever she currently sought. She allowed it.
With growing apprehension, Emma raised one knee to the bed at The Queen's urging and pressed into the mattress beside Regina's hip. Hot hands squeezed her bare thighs beneath the dress as Regina leaned her forehead into the firm stomach at the perfect height in her heels. A harsh sigh tore from the back of the confusing royal's throat, fingers clawing at the skin beneath them as though Emma might have bolted. A tigress holding her prey, Emma thought suddenly. She tensed to pull away, but Regina's words stopped her.
"Just another moment," she whispered.
"Regina, are you okay?" Emma asked, completely certain she'd slipped into some whacked out version of the twilight zone.
"It's never enough," The Queen confided, but Emma hadn't a clue what she referred. She waited, pressing her hands into her thighs, unsure exactly what she should have been doing.
"What isn't enough?" Emma asked cautiously.
"The money I set aside for those living in poverty. I see them everywhere on the street, children in filthy, torn rags with dirty faces. Yet every increase I give to programs meant to help them is never enough. The money simply disappears, and I am to blame in the eyes of my kingdom for their misfortunes," Regina explained candidly. Her voice rasped and cracked, and Emma thought for a moment that Regina cried into her impossibly expensive dress.
"I take it your budget meeting sucked?" Emma offered, unsure what Regina wanted.
"Touch my hair," Regina demanded unexpectedly.
"I… okay?" Emma stuttered. Tentatively, she scratched the fingertips of both hands over Regina's scalp. Silken strands glided easily through her fingers and across her palms, and Emma repeated the action for the pleasure of feeling that immaculate hair once more. Hers constantly tangled and frizzed and was flat out unruly, just like her, but Regina's was perfect, elegant and graceful, like The Queen.
Regina sighed into her belly again. Her bunched shoulders relaxed as Emma's comfort drained the tension from her body. The hands on her thighs slipped away and reappeared on her hips. Regina squeezed lightly before sliding firm palms up her sides. Emma cleared her throat, warning the other woman before she rejected her outright. Regina teetered on some sort of edge, and Emma tried her damnedest not to push her into the precipice.
Regina froze for exactly one second, the longest second of Emma's life. Without warning, rough hands pushed her hips violently, and Emma nearly toppled over when she stumbled back several steps. Regina slipped into her heels, completely unbothered by almost accident of her new plaything, and stood. Emma just stared, anger flaring once more.
"Damn it, Regina, I'm trying. What the hell do you want?" Emma demanded and crossed her arms again. The sort-of-hug had been nice, and Regina fucked it all up because Emma hadn't wanted sexual touches.
"At the moment, I'd like a muzzle," Regina muttered darkly and stood, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from the immaculate dress. "Shall we?" She swept her arm towards the door.
Emma stared incredulously for a few seconds and then tossed her hands in the air. "Fine," she huffed and stomped towards the door, which only made her feet hurt more. She bet they'd go numb by the end of dinner.
"Miss Swan!" Regina's sharp tone stopped her cold. "We do not tromp around like bulls in heat. You will take my arm and be properly escorted. This may only be my home, but you will behave as though we are attending my coronation during dinner. Are we clear?"
Green eyes slammed shut and her fists clenched, but she stopped and waited for Regina. Heat pressed into her side from her queen's close proximity, and Emma took a steadying breath before forcing her eyes open. Regina held out her arm, and Emma begrudgingly wrapped her hand around burgundy velvet while The Queen stared straight ahead and controlled her own anger. Satisfied with Emma's obedience, she urged them forward, tucking her arm tightly against her side.
"Isn't that dress hot?" Emma asked as they reached the top of the stairs.
"Yes," Regina answered aridly, her patience frayed beyond repair.
"Then why are you wearing it? It's not like you wore it in Council all day, and your house is plenty warm," Emma asked, genuinely curious. Had Regina always dressed in her best for the simple act of dinner or was that night special because it was her first as a bonafide member of the house, if not the family? Was a pet considered family?
"It is the only piece of clothing I own that is both this color and suitable for the occasion," Regina replied nonchalantly, but her arm tense beneath Emma's. The puzzle pieces fit suddenly. She'd complimented the color of her shirt that morning, and Regina sought her approval in some weird way. Would she never figure this woman out?
The tiny revelation melted Emma's anger, reminded her of exactly what Regina endured in her life. It wasn't this bad for her version of Regina. As far as Emma knew, the woman escorting her tolerated 30 continuous years in Storybrooke with Cora as her only companion, constantly criticizing and manipulating and tearing her apart from the inside out. Regina let her, Emma knew. Her version of Regina had so desperately sought the love of her mother that she'd nearly given up her son in pursuit of something that never existed.
Emma stopped abruptly when they reached the hardwood of the foyer. Regina huffed and glared, misunderstanding Emma's motives. The Savior smiled kindly, revealing the sincerity in her eyes. "It looks great on you, Regina. You're beautiful."
Regina simply stared for an extended pause, eyes flicking back and forth slowly. Searching. Gauging. Emma held her breath. After a brief eternity, Regina cleared her throat and pulled them forward once more. Emma followed without protest.
"Yes, well, I've been told this color complements my skin tone," Regina said lightly, and an involuntary smile split Emma's face at the feeble attempt at a quip.
"I think whoever told you that sure knows what their talking about," Emma bantered, jacking the mood even higher as she glommed onto the word volley that used to come so easily between them. Regina had the best one-liners, even if they pissed her off at the time.
"On the contrary, I simply believe this person's mouth functions faster than her brain," Regina sniped, barely containing the grin threatening to commandeer her dark red lips.
Emma leaned close to her ear just before they reached the door to the dining room. "That's not always a bad thing," she teased huskily.
The flirty comment abruptly halted progress again. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma caught Astrid drop her head, a faint blush upon her cheeks. Regina glared coolly, expression unreadable. Emma floundered for exactly one second before inspiration rapped her on the head like a foam noodle. She removed her hand from Regina's arm, and The Queen stiffened. Emma smiled.
"A Queen should be escorted by the one she's chosen, not the other way around," she proclaimed, a little uncertain of herself. Astrid nodded her approval of the gesture.
Regina stared at Emma's proffered arm as if gauging the lethality of a snake coiled to strike. Another awkward and lengthy pause rubbed static onto the tension, and Emma waited as patiently and stoically as possible. The tension dropped when Regina took her arm, warm velvet gliding over bare skin. Emma shivered at the sensual contact upon the delicate flesh of her inner arm.
"You learn quickly," The Queen observed in a neutral tone, but Emma heard the underlying praise anyway.
"Couldn't have survived this long if I didn't." Emma grinned at the older woman. She desperately wished to return to her world where everything made sense, but nothing said she shouldn't try and accomplish a little good in this one. Regina required an ounce of goodness in her life. The woman's depression flashed like a damn police car in the dead of night. How had no one seen it before her? Well, Astrid might have, but she was limited in what she could actually do in order to help.
"You're late," an irate voice disrupted the light banter a moment before Cora appeared from the dining room. A icy band of tension snapped tightly around the two younger women, and they both tensed.
"Mother, I am the queen, which means I may arrive whenever I please. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to begin dinner and have an early night," Regina calmly set Cora in her place and tugged Emma forward. Entitlement and control replaced the exhausted defeat Emma saw only minutes ago, but she recognized the mask now, the deepened lines around Regina's mouth and the slight sag of her shoulders. She knew how to spot the cover up for what it was. Not that she'd ever let Cora know that.
The supercilious interloper taunted Cora with a brilliant smile and followed her mistress without hesitation. She held her head high and escorted Regina to the head of table, pulling out her chair. Regina squeezed her arm before taking her seat. Emma stood awkwardly for a moment, but Regina waved her hand to the seat to her left, directing her subtly. Emma took her seat without hesitation and immediately waved over a servant standing by with wine, wishing she knew his name. She and Regina had plenty of issues to iron out in their arrangement, but that night Emma Swan had one mission: Cora would be jealous of her daughter's doting pet.
"Wine for you queen," she asked without asking, and the man nodded. Regina quirked an eyebrow, unsure what angle Emma played but enjoying the attention.
"Thank you, Greg," Regina said quietly, inadvertently informing Emma of whom she should call if anything else was needed. Emma nodded and offered Regina a tiny smile of encouragement. Her role in Regina's life suddenly made more sense. As much as she feared showing her vulnerability, The Queen needed someone to take care of her.
"I'll have water. Thank you, Greg," Emma informed the man and then sent him away as Cora took her seat to Regina's right. She glared holes into Emma's face, and Emma made a show of taking Regina's hand atop the table. The Queen gasped silently, but Cora focused so intently on the blonde woman that she failed to notice the almost extreme reaction. Emma ignored her and focused on The Queen, trusting her to guide the conversation… or not, however they took their dinner.
"That meeting was atrocious," Cora began, and Emma bristled. She was not the fucking queen. "Rabid peasants looking for handouts to perpetuate their own laziness."
"Mother, they're not lazy. They work, all of them. The funds simply are not there," Regina countered and squeezed Emma's hand lightly. She sipped her wine, and Emma injected herself into the conversation.
"Maybe you should investigate the person responsible for the distribution of funds to the programs. If it runs through a pyramid, more often than not, someone is lining their pockets with money meant for other things," Emma suggested with a light shrug. Greg nearly dropped the salad tray he carried, and she knew that she'd stuck her foot in it again.
"That person is me, you insolent child, and you'd do well to hold your tongue in future conversations. You are meant to be played with, not spoken to," Cora explained coldly. Emma smiled at the tactic. Sure, she wasn't as experienced running a kingdom, but she knew people.
"Not tonight," Emma countered, smiled prettily, and then ignored the bitchy advisor and turned her full attention to Regina who studied her curiously. "I am not suggesting it was your mother, however, there must be others who handle that money. What harm could launching an investigation do? At least then you'd know for sure."
Regina picked up her fork and took a bite of salad, chewing thoughtfully. Emma followed suit. "The thought had crossed my mind," Regina confessed.
Emma beamed at Cora who looked as though she might have sent her fork magically flying into Emma's neck. Instead, she sat up straighter and pushed her salad around her plate in thought. "Are you honestly going to take the advice of a woman submitted after only two days of trials to your own mother and loyal advisor for your entire life?"
Emma opened her mouth to protest, but Regina was faster. "Emma remains unbroken, Mother."
"Excuse me?" Cora seethed.
"Emma in unbroken, Mother," she repeated. "I do not wish to taint her personality. I rather like her as is."
"You allow a filthy, unbroken rebel into your home, Regina?" Cora stared at her daughter. Hadn't she taught her better? "I absolutely forbid this."
"I am not a child, Mother," Regina muttered, that same defeat tugging at her shoulders.
"Don't worry, Cora. I'm not going to break into your room and lick your face at night," Emma said, comparing herself to a dog. "Although, it'd be amusing," she added for extra kick, pulling the attention back to herself. Regina's lips tugged upward forcefully against her tight control. She almost smiled at the visual Emma painted.
"You vile, impudent creature," Cora whispered in a high pitched tone. "Do you honestly think when Regina grows bored of your constant insurrection that she will not toss you back into the mines? You are a bug. You are not privileged, and when Regina's passion runs out for your audacity, you will be less than you are now. Pets do not get released. Pets become political prisoners because of the intimate knowledge they gain during the course of their duties."
Emma jerked lightly, and Regina's hand suddenly found her knee beneath the table. She comforted her? Her brow furrowed at the bizarre woman, completely unnerved by Cora's splurge of information. Regina smirked at her and then turned a wry eye to Cora.
"Mother, Emma bears my mark," Regina announced, and Emma held up her wrist for Cora to see the leather burned into the flesh there.
"You've marked a prostitute, Darling," Cora tossed out casually.
"Regina and I aren't having sex," Emma countered, more for her own pride than anything else.
"Oh you foolish trollop, Regina would need a hazmat suit to protect herself from whatever you carry," Cora jabbed viciously.
Regina rolled her eyes. "Mother, do shut up. I sincerely doubt Emma has had many more lovers than I."
"Wait, hold up," Emma begged and held her hand up. Regina's claws dug into her thigh, and she fought the urge to squirm. "This world has an Emma, too?" Regina nodded. "Did she give up her son?"
Cora answered, "I'm only a few years into your adult life, but it is a fascinating read. The son of which you speak so fondly was removed from your home when he was four. Drugs and prostitution does not a stable mother make."
"What?" Emma slipped in her mask, the information knocking her to the ground and stealing her breath.
Regina studied the interaction curiously while Cora leaned forward, sick glee in her eyes. "You beat your son senseless and left him on the stoop of your apartment because he interrupted you with a… client," the elder Mills explained. Satisfaction glowed in her malicious eyes.
Tears blurred her vision, and her fork clattered to the salad plate. "Henry," she whispered, bowing her head in a valiant effort to control her tears.
"That wasn't the boy's name. My people haven't tracked his current location, but the name in the file was Mason Swan," Regina elaborated.
"At least I still met Mason in this world," Emma murmured.
"Is he the father?"
Emma shook her head but offered not further explanation. "Everything is wrong in this world." She covered her eyes and sniffed. The tears came despite her most valiant effort to thwart them. "Excuse me," she tossed out before dismissing herself from the table.
The shiny heels tapped smartly against the hardwood. Astrid met her at the dining room door and followed her new charge. Regina knew her pet to be in good hands, and turned to her mother. Red hot rage flared in her crackling violet eyes. Cora met her burning glare with one of her own. Her daughter always retreated first, so she needn't worry about the tiny show of defiance.
"That was cruel and unnecessary," Regina berated the elder.
"I fail to understand the issue, Sweetheart. This woman is clearly after your money or your power. Can't you see that? I'm doing you a favor. I always want the best for you," Cora soothed the ire as she'd done a thousand times before and touched her daughter's cheek tenderly.
Regina slapped her hand away. "I believe her, Mother." Cora's mouth dropped open, shocked. She hadn't expected that response. "This is not her world," she continued as she stood. "Greg, please see that dinner is brought to my room and Emma's."
"Regina, don't be absurd. You're confused because of your infatuation with this harlot. I see the truth, and I am only trying to help you," Cora protested from her seat, her intention of eating dinner properly obvious.
Regina met her eyes, but for the first time in her life, she hadn't believed the comforting words. "If that were true, you'd have held your tongue as I asked." With that, Regina followed Emma up the stairs.
The rise and fall of voices greeted her outside Emma's door, and she took a steadying breath before entering. Emma had already changed, and lay curled in middle of her bed with Astrid smoothing circles over the bright orange camisole. She froze when her queen entered and bowed her head in fear. A clammy fist squeezed Regina's heart in her chest. Astrid was a sweet girl.
"Astrid, please attend to Emma's dinner. Greg is preparing a tray to be brought to her room," Regina said softly, more a request than an order. The former fairy slid from the bed without comment and scurried from the room, closing the door behind her.
Regina stared at Emma's quivering back for a moment before waving her hand over her body. It tingled against her skin and transformed into silken pajamas. She'd always loved the feel of silk against her body. Emma flinched when she assumed Astrid's perch without resuming the gentle circles on her back.
"Regina, please. I can't. I just can't right now," Emma begged through the strain of tears.
Regina's warm hand touched her hair gingerly, afraid to spook the other woman as she'd done so many times in the past two days. "Do you wish me to leave?"
"Are you going to make me talk?" Emma asked. She hadn't wanted to be alone, but she was finished with this day.
"I'll be silent," Regina assured her broken ward. She waved her hand over the blanket, and it poofed from beneath Emma to settle atop the wounded woman. The bed was spacious, and though Emma lay directly in the center, Regina found enough room to stretch out beside her pet without touching her.
She'd never comforted another human being before, not since she served as Snow White's stepmother. Even then, her heart and mind had been consumed with thoughts of revenge and hatred. Instinct told her to take Emma in her arms and kiss her lightly and tell her that they'd find Mason and help him, but her heart told her that such tenderness made her vulnerable. What if Emma hated being hugged when she was upset? What if she upset the woman even more because she assumed the worst? The obstinate woman made her feel positively human at time, and as she'd done that morning, she lashed out irrationally and retreated within herself. How was she supposed to become spontaneously human when she'd spent decades as a hardened monster with no warmth in her soul?
Regina had no idea, so she lay there, stiff as a board, hands pressed firmly into the mattress as Emma shook and sniffled less than a foot away. The wild blonde woman was her responsibility, her property, and she cared for her the only way she knew how.
