Early evening found Henry posing in front of his mom's vanity, awkwardly adjusting a red cloak around his shoulders. After his ma had left, he'd done some sparring under Mulan's watchful eye. David had stayed close by, quizzing him about what life had been like in Storybrooke. The deputy had been quiet, willing to listen while Henry told him stories about camp outs and school trips, fishing in the summer and building snowmen during the winter. He'd had this sad, soft look on his face that drew Henry's sympathy and tamped down his impulse to sass him for being so dumb earlier. After the session, he'd given Henry some fancy clothes to wear to the banquet and sent him to clean up.
Back in the queen's chambers, he'd lit the fire and the sconces carefully, wanting to ensure the room was warm for his mothers. He'd briefly explored the environs beyond with Bran, finding the nursery and servant's quarters his mom had mentioned.
The nursery was cozy, with a huge fireplace and large windows. There was no indication it had seen a baby in decades, though, lacking any furniture aside from a chest of drawers and a small bed. The servant's room beyond was smaller again, windowless and cramped, containing a bed and a stool. Beyond it, a narrow spiral staircase coiled drunkenly into the kitchens, the steps uneven and slippery. Both rooms were freshly cleaned, no dust or mold marring them. He lit the fire in the nursery and brought his bag in, deciding he quite liked the idea of having his own space again. He really was too big to still be sleeping with his moms, after all.
That said, the room lacked mirrors and he wasn't sure how to fix his cape properly, so he'd entered the queen's chamber as easily as he'd entered his mothers' room in the house on Mifflin Street. He even lit some scented burners, hoping to dispel the musty fug of disuse that permeated the place. Bran trotted over to the rug in front of the fire, rolling contentedly onto his side and letting his tongue loll out.
He was brushing his hair when with a puff of displaced air, purple smoke and a blunt, metallic scent filled the room. He turned, a smile on his lips as his mother appeared, rubbing her eyes carefully. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, drawn in to her chest and he frowned at the sight, not quite sure what had happened.
"Mom!" he called, happy to see her nonetheless . "I lit the fire for you."
"Thank you, sweetheart," she smiled a wobbly smile, gathering him into a tight hug. It went on for slightly longer than he thought thanks for a small chore necessitated, but he didn't complain. She kissed his head and stepped back, smoothing his hair and adjusting his cape with a practiced hand. "Who gave you these clothes?"
"David did," he replied. "He said I needed to be ready for the banquet." He turned to the mirror, fiddling with his pendant and standing up straight. His mom was fixing her eye makeup, leaning close to the glass and peering intently at her reflection. He'd always been quite fascinated by the process and would often sit and watch his mom get ready. Sometimes, if they weren't in a hurry, she'd do his ma's eyes, too, usually after she whined about not being able to do eyeliner as well as his mom did.
Her hands were trembling a little, though, not as steady as they usually were, and her eyes looked a bit red. He frowned, about to speak when the door opened, his ma entering. She looked tired, still dirty from the practice yard, and somewhat sheepish as she approached his mom. She set down her eye pencil, frowning.
"Emma?"
"Hey," she replied, the corners of her mouth tugging up into an unconvincing smile. "Sorry I'm so, uh," she gestured to herself and shrugged. "I should go clean up."
He watched as his mom walked towards her, reaching out a hesitant hand. "Did something happen?"
His ma drew a breath and dipped her head, lifting her own hand to briefly clench his mom's fingers. "It's OK."
"You don't look OK," his mom said quietly.
"David was an ass," Henry piped, earning two quite reproachful looks. "What? He was. He teased mom about him being her dad."
At that, his mom whipped her face back to his ma, frowning angrily. "What did that idiot say now?"
"Regina," she sighed, "it's fine. He wasn't thinking. And though he was being an ass, Henry, it is not cool to call him that." Her shoulders were slumped a little, her eyes dull.
"I agree," his mom said, glancing at Henry briefly with a conspiratorial wink, "he is an ass."
Henry snorted at that and his ma lifted her mouth in a little smirk. She shuffled a little and his mom tugged her forward, hugging her gently and rubbing her back.
"I smell," his ma protested, though she did wrap her arms around his mom.
"You do," his mom agreed, pulling back, though still holding her hand. With her other hand, she waved and the tingle of magic filled the air. "There's a bath waiting. Go freshen up. We need to attend this ridiculous dinner." His ma nodded, smiling at his mom for a moment before heading into the washroom. She watched her as she went, a gentle but sad expression on her face, lonesome and wistful.
She shook her head and turned back to Henry, an eyebrow raised. "As much as it pains me to say it, you have to bear in mind that David and Snow are your grandparents."
He frowned, shuffling on his feet. "They're the same age as you guys."
"Younger, in fact," she sighed. "Before, though, you had a good relationship with them. You enjoyed spending time with them. Don't be rude to them, sweetheart. If nothing else, they're the king and queen of this kingdom."
Henry lifted a dubious eyebrow. "You always said that monarchies were an outdated waste of money."
She blinked at him, her eyes wide. "I did, did I?"
"Mom, you're an elected official in a democratic country," he said, rolling his eyes.
She shook her head and sat at the vanity. "Well, as someone who's actually been a queen, I have to agree that there's a lot to be said for choosing your leaders."
Satisfied that his mom looked a little less sad, he joined her at the mirror, preening a bit. He sighed happily, running his hand over his cloak.
"So, what are the rules for a royal banquet?" he asked, bouncing on his feet.
"Well, the same as being in a restaurant," she said, meeting his eyes in the reflection. "Say please and thank you to the servers, don't speak with your mouth full and finish what's on your plate." She paused, grimacing. "Unless you find something you really don't want to eat, which could happen."
Henry frowned but decided to avoid asking what could be presented to him. His mom applied her lipstick, her lips darkening to a deep red. It was very different from the mom who'd led Dapple through the woods, but reminded him of his mom before she headed for meetings in the town hall. She turned to him, her eyes still a bit red, and smiled.
"Will I do?"
"You look awesome, mom."
"Well," she said, holding out an elbow, "luckily, I have a handsome prince to escort me to the banquet, tonight."
Giggling, he took her arm and perched beside her, the heavy fabric of her dress not hiding the warmth of her beside him, the reassurance of her solid presence.
SQSQSQSQ
She sent Henry to feed Bran and bring him for a walk before they left, heading for her wardrobe and pulling a couple of gowns out for Emma. As long as she wore flats, she'd get away with some of her less structured dresses. Emma was taller than her, broader about the shoulders, but very slim around the hips and waist. She laid out the trousers and doublet she'd altered earlier, too, not sure what the other woman would want to wear.
Emma emerged from a cloud of fragrant steam wrapped in a large towel, another piled atop her head. "That felt glorious," she sighed. "Thank you so much."
Regina smiled, relieved to see much of the tension Emma had carried into the room earlier seemed to have soaked away in the tub. She gestured to the outfits. "Any preferences?"
Emma frowned, running a hand over the rich velvet of a simple green gown. "Are all of these floor length?"
Regina shrugged, gesturing at herself. "Cocktail dresses haven't made their way here yet."
Emma crooked a smile, turning back to the selection. "I guess I'm expected to wear a dress, right?"
"Yes," Regina said, softly. "But the Emma Swan I knew never put much stock in expectations." She turned back to the wardrobe, emerging with a pair of soft black leather trousers and a red leather coat with impressive slashed tails. She held the coat up to Emma's chest, frowning. She'd need a top beneath, as she didn't quite have the bust for it, but it could work. She looked up at Emma, who was watching her with soft green eyes, warm with affection.
She felt her heart skip at the easy intimacy, her cheeks warming with a blush. "What would you prefer?"
Emma tipped her head to one side. "Skinny jeans, a tank and a glass of wine with you?" She sighed. "But I guess I can't skip out, huh?"
Regina sighed. "You could. But it might spell the end of the truce with Snow." She rubbed her forehead, the events of the day catching up with her. It seemed like a week since she'd woken up. Her heart was heavy after her conversation with Liath, too, and she had very little reserve to play nice with the White Court. "I confess, I have zero desire to go down there."
Emma turned to the outfits, inspecting them again. "You wanna sit this out? Could you?"
Regina supposed she could, as her presence was usually tolerated at best, but she was reluctant to leave Henry and Emma at the tender mercies of Snow's allies. It wouldn't be the first time she made herself attend a function she didn't want to, after all. And this particular soiree was being held to celebrate her family. Exhaustion and apathy swelled in her chest, stronger than they'd been for may days, causing her to suck in a breath of air. She closed her eyes, recalling the sight of Henry's bright eyes and Emma's crooked smile, attempting to pull herself back into the moment, for the sake of her family.
"I won't," she said. Emma turned to her, a cautious and grateful smile on her lips.
"I'm way out of my depth here, Regina."
"I know," she agreed. "But remember, you have an advantage. You're the saviour, Snow White's long lost daughter. They love you. Even if you don't feel like it, even if you don't believe it, use it. For Henry's sake, if nothing else."
Emma nodded, turning back to the clothes. She ran a hand over the red leather ensemble, nodding distractedly.
"Yours, too," she whispered.
Regina's throat tightened, though she swallowed against the rising emotion. They didn't have much time to get ready and she needed to just have this night be over.
"Which one?"
Emma grinned, gesturing at the red leather, and Regina rolled her eyes fondly. "Alright. Let's get you ready."
They bustled around for a few minutes, Emma dressing as Regina fussed at the vanity. She cast an appraising eye on her, taking in her muscular arms and the confident way she held herself with a good deal of interest. She adjusted her cuffs and Regina frowned, noticing red knuckles.
"What did you do to yourself?" she asked, lifting Emma's hand to inspect it.
Emma frowned, flushing lightly. "Urgh, sparring with David. I tripped a couple of times." Regina ran her thumb over the raw skin, shaking her head. Emma shifted her feet.
"I also used magic," she said, quietly. "I think I almost hurt David," she said, her voice small and somewhat lost. Compassion flooded Regina's chest and she lifted her other hand, cradling Emma's barked knuckles carefully.
"He made you angry and you lashed out," Regina guessed. She'd honestly wondered where this version of Emma had been hiding her temper, having been on the receiving end of it so often. Emma lifted her eyebrows and offered a little shrug, clearly upset.
"Could I have hurt him?"
Regina sighed, tipping her head to meet worried green eyes. "Magic is emotion, Emma. If he made you angry, and you lashed out, then yes. But without malicious intent, I doubt it would have been serious. I don't think getting angry and wanting to smack some sense into that lunk head is anything other than a natural reaction to being in his presence."
Emma laughed softly, the desired response. "OK. So how do I control it?"
Regina considered that for a minute. "I suppose in the same way you resist throwing a punch when people annoy you, or snapping at someone who irritates you. You understand your reaction, and learn how to respond appropriately." She considered Emma's knuckles for a moment. "And you try to associate your magic with other emotions."
She tugged Emma to the chairs by the fire, pulling her to sit. She held her grazed hand between them, meeting curious green eyes. "I want you to close your eyes, and picture your hand, whole and healthy, and something positive associated with that."
Emma tipped her head to one side. "Something positive?"
Regina nodded. "Think of the best your hands ever were," she instructed, recalling her lessons with Rumple and determinedly shifting them away from themes of power and vengeance. "When you did something good or right."
Emma peered at her from beneath long eyelashes, a faint flush on her high cheekbones. "OK," she said.
"Close your eyes," Regina said, laughing softly. "Hold the picture in your head."
Carefully, delicately, she drew her own magic to herself, holding the image of Emma's fine boned hands in her mind. Something gentle, something she'd felt for very few people, filled her chest and she lifted Emma's hand, keeping the image of slender fingers, sure and strong, in the forefront of her mind.
"Can you feel that?" she asked, watching Emma nod. "You can see what I want to do?"
"I can," she murmured, her voice breathy with disbelief. "Jesus, Regina, I can see what you want to do."
"Follow me," she whispered, her own eyes slipping shut.
Emma shifted beside her, an incredulous laugh running through her. Regina smiled, drawing her power back as Emma poured her own clumsy, enthusiastic, messy magic into the little wounds on her hand. They healed within seconds, the skin whole and complete. Eyes flicked open and Emma's mouth hung, utter delight on her features.
"I did it," she whispered.
"You did," Regina confirmed. "That was all you, none of me. Good work, dear."
"Holy shit!" Emma exclaimed. "That's incredible!"
Regina shrugged minutely. "No, Emma. It's part of you. It took me many, many years to learn that magic isn't a weapon, but the way you allow your soul to sing, or scream, as it may be."
Emma was examining her hand, turning it around and inspecting the smooth skin. It had been such a little thing, Regina mused, much less than bringing a chest back together, but she shared in Emma's delight. She laughed, freely and from the bottom of her lungs. Emma joined her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"You've always made my soul sing, Regina," she said, light and almost jokingly. "No surprise you do it here, too."
Regina twisted her neck to take in her companion, her chest tightening with the sentiment and squeezed their fingers together, her heart lighter than it had been in many, many years.
SQSQSQSQ
"So the herald will call your name and you approach the dais, and your seat, but don't sit until after the Queen does," a valet instructed, frowning. Emma thought she recognised him as a guy who'd worked in a minimart near the cannery, but couldn't be sure. Regina and Ruby had both alluded to the fact that the people currently filling the castle were a mix of Storybrooke residents and those who'd never been taken by the curse. Dignitaries, tradespeople and refugees from beyond the borders were gathering at the castle and trying to renegotiate old roles.
Emma blinked in terror at his formal tone. She'd just spent an hour getting ready, though most of that had been spent practicing magic, and she felt woefully unprepared. She should have felt quite dapper, in all honesty, clad in rich leather, but she hadn't seen any other women in trousers and wondered if she was about to embarrass herself.
"Don't look so panicked, dear," a very welcome voice teased from behind her. "We'll all go in together."
She sighed in relief at that. Regina and Henry were standing with her, looking far more at ease than she herself felt. She took her son's hand and huffed a sigh, wondering what weird Mills' epigenetics were at work. The antechamber they stood in was dim and stuffy, lacking windows but sporting a large fireplace none the less. Wary glances from the people sharing the room were enough to make Emma want to flee, or at least do something to freak the stuffy bastards out. In another life, with a willing accomplice, kissing Regina had often accomplished precisely that.
"Do I look OK?" she asked, nerves jangling a bit. She didn't think she quite fit into the traditional princess mold and was gripped with a flash of insecurity. The incident with David and her subsequent talk with Ruby had left her feeling off kilter, disconcerted and adrift in a very unfamiliar world. The desire to take her family and run flared once more and she had to concentrate on not moving her feet.
Regina lifted an appraising eyebrow and sighed. "Emma, you could wear a sack and no one would dare say a word, but rest assured you look beautiful." She brushed a hand over her shoulder, picking at a non-existent piece of lint. She lifted her hand to adjust Emma's hair, a small frown of concentration wrinkling her forehead as she mumbled about getting two children ready.
Emma smiled at the other woman, heart calming and settling. It was incredible how Regina's presence could make things seem so much simpler and less terrifying. Though she had no idea how to comport herself as Princess Emma, she'd generally been able to put on a good face as Emma Swan-Mills.
She smiled, something within her loosening and relaxing. She reached out a hand for Regina, pleased when she took it without comment or hesitation. She was a bit surprised to note that Regina had shed several of the more obnoxious rings from earlier, settling for smaller bands that made it easier to entwine their fingers.
The herald announced them and Emma straightened her back, entering the banquet hall with confidence, step in step with her family.
SQSQSQSQ
Regina sipped her wine slowly, peering around the great hall with wary eyes from the top of the dais. Snow had placed Emma beside herself, at her right hand, with Henry between his mothers, to the obvious consternation of many. Regina had felt a grudging flare of appreciation at being close to her family, though it was slightly awkward. Merida of Dun Broch sat beside her, with several other nobles spread along the table. Merida seemed entirely unconcerned with her past which didn't surprise her too much. Dun Broch was a distant land and she'd enjoyed a cordial trade relationship with King Fergus's father. She learned that Merida had been sent by her parents, seeking allies and strengthening ties.
She glanced over the packed room, her head held high as she took in the tableau. Tables crowded the floor, fresh rushes and straw lying over the flags. Great braziers, candelabras and sconces blazed, lighting the room enough to eat but failing to penetrate the great shadows of the vaulted ceiling twenty feet overhead. Liath and the boys were seated off to one side with some of the Merry Men. Mulan was deep in conversation with them and from some of her gestures, it seemed the topic was sword play. Robin Hood was bouncing Roland on his knee, the little boy listening eagerly, fascinated by the older lads.
Ruby was seated at the far end of the high table, several minor nobles sending uncomfortable looks her way. Aurora was trying her best to be polite but the tall woman seemed supremely uneasy. She noticed Emma shooting her a reassuring smile and how it caused slim shoulders to relax. A surge of affection rose in her chest, at the effortless way Emma put people at their ease.
"Hey mom," Henry asked, tugging her sleeve. "What's this?"
"Oh, that's manticore, sweetheart." She grimaced. "It's an acquired taste."
He scrunched his nose. "Is that one of the things I don't have to eat?"
"Most definitely."
Merida laughed and shook her head. "Aye, tastes like boiled boots, hen."
Henry pushed it to one side of his plate and turned to the princess. "Do you think you could show us that thing you mentioned?"
"Wha' thing?"
"Shooting from a horse," he clarified, his eyes shining. "It sounds amazing."
Merida shrugged, as though the feat of mounted archery was nothing impressive. "Och aye. Nae bother, lad."
"My mom is a great rider," he supplied, smiling up at Regina. She knew she should have ducked her head humbly, that was what etiquette demanded, what proper ladies did, but with Henry grinning up at her she found herself nodding firmly.
"I can ride," she confirmed, "but I can't shoot very well."
Merida shrugged. "I can teach ye."
"My ma is awful on a horse," Henry lamented, sighing. Merida cocked her head to one side, her bright eyes catching Regina's with enormous curiosity.
"Wee Henry said ye're married tae the princess," she said in a rush, a blush on her round cheeks. "Tha's just..." she bit her lip, searching for the words. Regina bit down on the impulse to correct her, recognising something vulnerable in the young woman.
"A while back, me ma and da tried tae marry me off. Had lads shootin' fer me hand," she frowned, clearly not entirely forgiving of the venture. "Fuckin' disaster. I beat every one of the numpties."
Regina shook her head, chuckling. Merida's response evoked much the same that Henry's frequent forays into idealism did. Affection, worry and pride all at once. "In the land without magic, you don't have to marry. You can live your own life."
Merida inhaled slowly. "Aye. So not every princess marries a prince?"
Regina glanced over at Emma, who'd happened to be looking her way. The hall was too noisy for her to have heard their conversation, Regina knew. Her elbow was propped on the back of Henry's seat, her wrist loose and relaxed, her hand close to Regina. A wide smile lit her face and she extended her pinky finger, brushing it off Regina's shoulder fondly, a brief acknowledgement before she turned back to Snow.
"No, Merida," she said, feeling her cheeks heat. "Some find princesses of their own."
SQSQSQSQ
Dinner was drawing to a close, the last course served and eaten. Henry had bounded down to the boys earlier, keen to hear more of Mulan's stories. Emma wiped her mouth carefully, watching David as he descended down to the table with the boys and Liath. She turned to Snow, who looked weary and excused herself, following broad shoulders. She tapped his back, nerves gripping her guts as he turned. His eyes widened and he stopped in his tracks.
"Emma," he said, "hey."
"Hey," she replied, as lame as he was. "So, uh, about earlier."
They drifted to the edge of the floor, finding a spot to talk amidst the hubbub of the hall. He sighed, crossing his arms.
"I didn't mean to, you know, hit a sore spot."
Emma scratched the back of her neck and shrugged. "And I didn't mean to almost roast you with magic."
He nodded, accepting her apology easily. His brow was furrowed, thoughtful and much more mature than the man she'd known. "I didn't realise you had power like that."
"Me neither," she sighed, feeling her mouth twist wryly. "I got mad. It came out."
David cringed, the expression at odds with his regal clothes and proud bearing. "I didn't mean to make you mad. But, they call me Prince Charming, you know? Not Prince Brainy."
Emma actually laughed at that, shaking her head. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure what they'll call me won't be fit for a Disney cartoon."
David's head tipped to one side, sorrow on his face, though from where Emma didn't know. "I'm one hundred percent sure the David you knew wouldn't have liked people calling his friend Emma names any more than I do."
She shook her head, laughing softly. "No, no he did not." She lifted her face, meeting eyes that now seemed so familiar. She shook her head, completely unsure of what to say or how to negotiate what was roaring through her chest.
"Maybe we can practice tomorrow, again?" he suggested, shrugging a shoulder.
She smiled, shaking her head. "I'd like that, David."
He grinned, flashing a smile that someone without access to modern dentistry during their formative years had no business sporting, and nodded. He bounced on the balls of his feet and they made their way to Henry and the others. It wasn't perfect, by any stretch, but it was at least a start.
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Regina watched Emma approach Charming with less apprehension than she would have expected. The other woman clearly needed to apologise for what she'd done, to clear the air, and she was struck again by the notion that this Emma was very different from the one she remembered. More patient, kinder and willing to open her heart to people. Perhaps it was the wine, but for the first time the notion filled her with pride, rather than terror. At least in some world, some version of her had been a decent enough person to allow those softer parts of Emma to emerge.
She glanced around the dais and realised with a start that Snow was watching her. The queen beckoned her forward and, chest clenching slightly, Regina moved to Emma's vacant seat. The familiar face was more rounded than before, her eyes puffy and tired. Her enormous belly strained beneath her gown and the queen winced noticeably if she moved suddenly.
"Snow," she greeted, warily.
"Regina," she nodded. "I know I said it before, but thank you for bringing her home. For bringing them both home."
A flash of sorrow lanced through her, followed by the morose thought that she hadn't, not really. That home for them was the land without magic and an apartment in New York, or a house in Storybrooke. She found herself missing that world acutely, then, wishing she was back in the only place where she'd ever felt like she belonged.
"You look tired," she said, not wishing to dwell on such thoughts. "You must be due soon."
Snow sighed, letting the ungracious segue go. "Fraulein Bosheit thinks I'll go before my time. She thinks I'm big for someone with weeks to go."
Regina frowned at that. Her own knowledge of childbirth was limited, having never carried long enough to need to learn about the process. That said, the idea of a big baby in the setting of very rudimentary medical care unsettled her deeply, in the way that the notion of unclean water did.
"She is your midwife?" Regina asked, quietly.
"She was a midwife here, then cursed as a nurse in Storybrooke. She comes highly recommended," Snow answered, lacing her fingers over her bump. She was unusually reticent and Regina wondered if the effort of speaking was making her ration her words.
"We had an interesting conversation with Emma," she said, her voice hard to read.
Regina lifted her chin, schooling her features. "Oh?"
Snow nodded. "She told us about her memories, about the life she knew."
Regina felt her shoulders tensing, not entirely enjoying the topic of conversation. It was too much, held too much potential for conflict and for old wounds to be reopened.
"About the most recent curse I cast, you mean?" she spat, bitterly.
Snow frowned at her, bright eyes shrewd. "She told me that Mary Margaret was a girl you used to baby sit, who subsequently went on to become Henry's sitter. She went away to Boston to college and came back to teach elementary school in Storybrooke. She and David had been together since senior year and got married last summer. David was a deputy and he volunteered at the animal shelter." She lifted an eyebrow. "Doesn't exactly sound like a cursed existence."
Regina bit her lip, unsure of what to say. "Good evidence that something went terribly wrong," she huffed, "if my spell granted you such a happy life."
Snow shrugged. "The way she tells it, we were all friends. You and I weren't bosom buddies, exactly, but she remembers a good life."
She found her gaze drifting to Emma, who had settled with the Hounds and Liath, David with them. They were laughing heartily, rowdy and free. Henry was curled against her and she was immensely edified to catch him glaring at David, protective of his mother.
"That was the intention," Regina said, softly. "A gift of happy memories." She swallowed thickly. "I don't know why they remember us all."
Snow chuckled. "Maybe because it takes more than one person to make a happy life. I mean, Emma had it all. Her child, friends... her spouse."
Regina clenched her teeth, keeping her gaze fixed on Emma, on the way she seemed so at ease with the soldiers and the way dark red leather shifted over her strong shoulders. She bit down on the urge to snap at Snow, to preempt whatever ire she had with her own rage.
"I'm sure you have something to say about that," she ground out, her back rigid.
"Well, I'm kind of disappointed she never told me she likes women, you know?" Snow sighed. "I mean, we were friends! I figured it would have come up in conversation."
If Regina hadn't been in public, her jaw would have dropped with incredulity. Snow, oblivious as usual, continued.
"Like, it was a shock, don't get me wrong. You do not want to wrap your head around the fact that your daughter thinks she's married to your stepmother." Regina winced, reminded once more of their ridiculously complicated family dynamics.
Snow was quiet for a long moment, her blue eyes darting over Emma's smiling face. Regina watched her watch her daughter and much to her mortification, something like sympathy flared through her. The months she'd missed with Henry stung her but she could not imagine missing her child's entire life. Snow rested a protective hand on her belly, face tight, and Regina clenched her jaw. Part of her wanted to scream, resentful of how Snow was only able to process Emma's feelings and life as they pertained to her and part of her was just relieved that she didn't have to fight the other woman.
"I'm worried," Snow confessed, "because this Emma... she loves you so much. I don't know what's going to happen when she remembers but..." She blew out a sigh. Snow White had never been the most articulate of people. She cut her bright eyes to Regina's, something lurking unsaid and she found herself turning away, focusing on Emma and Henry in the crowd once more.
"We have more important things to worry about," she sniffed, dismissively, even as her heart clenched. "Zelena still seeks your child and we are at a disadvantage."
Snow nodded, rubbing her bump. "What do we do?"
Regina had been thinking about this, trying to decide on the best course of action, and she found herself in an uncharacteristically defensive stance. "We sit tight and gather information. We watch her movements and we try to figure out why she wants this baby."
"She can't breach the wards?" Snow asked, her voice laced with worry.
"Not unless someone is stupid enough to invite her in," Regina scoffed, "but no. You're safe here, Snow, and so is your baby."
Snow smiled at her then, wide and guileless, reminiscent of the child she'd known and Regina was torn between wanting to berate her for being so damn trusting and allowing her own concern to rise to the forefront. She nodded curtly, rising to leave with a hasty farewell, unsettled for a reason she couldn't quite put her finger on. Dread filled her, the certainty that things were going to go horribly wrong strong within her breast.
SQSQSQSQ
The fire had burned to embers in the grate, casting soft firelight around the room. Henry had retired to the nursery, taking Bran with him, and Regina found herself sitting at the vanity, removing her makeup. Emma was moving on soft feet behind her, humming quietly. The banquet had been quite awkward, though relatively informal as these things went. The conversations she'd engaged in had left her with a lot to consider and she found herself in a thoughtful mood.
Emma came behind her, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. "Want help with your hair?"
Regina nodded, enjoying the sensation of fingers running through her hair and over her scalp. Emma began carefully deconstructing the severe twist she'd created that morning, her fingers gentle. She hadn't quite been able to bring herself to conjure longer hair, despite knowing it would have made several preferred styles easier. She loved having her hair short, having the freedom to cut it and bob it as she pleased, and wasn't quite ready to concede that just yet.
Emma was combing her hands through her hair gently, scratching her scalp.
"You've got such gorgeous hair," she murmured. "So beautiful."
Regina found herself humming with pleasure and leaned back, tipping her chin up and looking up at Emma. The crown of her head rested against Emma's warm belly, butting gently.
"The same to you, Miss Swan."
"Swan-Mills," she teased, one hand sliding forward to tap her nose. "Good night, Regina."
Regina turned, standing in her simple grey nightdress, scrubbed and tired. "Did you light the fire in the servant's room?"
Emma blinked, clearly taken somewhat aback. "Uh, no?"
Regina rolled her eyes, though there was little scorn and a lot of tenderness in the gesture. "Well, it'll be far too cold to sleep in there tonight." She turned and headed for her bed. "This room is warmer."
Emma followed, her eyes soft and amused. "OK. I can sleep on that couch."
Regina held out her hand, slightly annoyed by the gentle teasing. She tucked herself beneath the covers, tugging Emma after her. They lay facing each other in the low light, Regina's heart pounding.
"I know, given what I said, that this might be somewhat of a mixed signal."
Emma chuckled and lifted an arm over the duvet, settling it loosely on her side. "Not at all. I get it. We are not going to do anything aside from sleep here, tonight."
She grew solemn for a moment, running her thumb over Regina's back. "You don't want to do anything now because you think I'll feel differently when I remember. You don't want me to do anything I'll regret. Basically the same as waiting until someone sobers up, you know?
"But sharing a bed, holding you, that's not the same as sex."
"There's an intimacy to it, though," Regina breathed, her heart vulnerable and completely open. "It's more intimate than sex, in all the ways that count. Even the way we speak, Emma..."
Emma inhaled, reaching upwards and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I get it," she said, softly and something in the gentleness of her tone urged Regina onwards, her chest tight.
"I have not had good experiences when it comes to sex."
Emma nodded, her gaze patient and open, understanding without pitying. "I had some pretty shitty ones, myself." Regina reached up, taking Emma's hand between her own, playing with the elegant fingers and tracing the lines there. "And you know we don't have to, right? That having boundaries about what level of intimacy you're comfortable with is OK?" She reached a free hand up and ran it over the back of her own, ticklish and light. "Being here and enjoying this isn't a prelude or a promise. It's just you and me."
Regina closed her eyes, guilt and relief and desire and fear all swirling through her, alongside a dozen other emotions. She didn't think it was possible to feel like this, as though she was nothing but her naked heart, thundering in the comforting darkness. She wanted to explain, to put her worries and hopes into words, to make sense of it all. She wanted Emma to know her and understand her and what was more, she ached to know the other woman as well. To learn the truth of the depths and heights within her. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Emma kissed her finger tips gently and shifted on the pillow.
"We need to sleep," she yawned. "It's been a long day, babe." She squeezed Regina's hand firmly. "To be continued?"
"To be continued," she replied, yawning as well. Fatigue swept over her and she rested her head on her own pillow, eyes sliding shut in moments.
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What do you guys think? Hope you enjoyed this one!