Notes: Thanks again to Race and Wapwani for reading through. I've been moving this week so it's shorter than I'd like but at least the move's over with tomorrow. Apologies for any weird mismash of American and British spelling. I'm leaving one system for another.

Between the five of them, Lily, Mal and the Charmings made it through four bottles of her good wine. Regina changed into her pyjamas, fairly sure that her wine had been the only casualty of the evening. Emma had tasted like wine when she'd kissed her in the hallway after her parents had left, but she hadn't lost her temper. Neither had Lily, and Mal had been so proud of her. Bidding everyone goodnight had made her eyes sting more than she wanted to admit, and Snow had held her too tight and too long. Emma must have suspected something, but she'd been quiet.

After brushing her teeth, Regina crawled into bed with Emma, mint still filling her mouth. Emma remained on her side of the bed for a few moments that seemed to stretch out far too long before reaching for her. Her touch was tentative at first, barely a brush against Regina's arm. Dinner had been long. Maybe she'd pushed too hard trying to help her make peace with her parents, or Emma was tired-

But then Emma rolled over, gently pulling her in close until they spooned together: Emma's legs comfortably behind hers. The sweet scent of Emma's hair filled her nose, and Regina forgot about the garlic bread that could have driven all the vampires from Maine, if there were any.

"M'sorry," Emma muttered into the back of her neck. "My parents-" It turned into a sigh.

"I know," Regina said, holding Emma's arm against her stomach. She'd asked so much of her and Lily, because they didn't understand forgiveness the way Mal did. They needed to find some kind of peace, and it would be hard; Regina knew that better than anyone. Emma couldn't stay this angry for much longer; it hurt her. "Maybe we shouldn't have-"

"No, that was good," Emma said, yawning a little. She moved her hand naughtily up to Regina's breast and rested it there.

Regina smiled down at that warmth of that hand, even though it was so dark she could barely see it. She wasn't sure if either of them were awake enough for that, but being held was comfortable, safe. "Good?"

"Not awful?" Emma amended, moving the pillow under her head. She wriggled again, then settled. The warmth of her seeped into Regina, filling the space under the blankets. "I don't know how Mal does it. She can sit with them and drink wine and be perfectly civil."

"The wine probably helps," she joked, running her hand down Emma's arm. She had to tell her about Snow, and her chest ached from the idea. "Emma-"

Emma sighed and slipped closer, holding her tighter. "I know that tone," she muttered into Regina's neck. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." At least, she hoped so. She hadn't thought it was so easy to tell.

Emma rolled her over, turning Regina so that they faced each other, legs intwined. In the darkness, Emma's lips were soft, almost black. She toyed with her hair, smiling. "What happened?"

Regina shifted, staring up into her face. "Snow knows," she said, her heart thudded in chest. She was not afraid of Emma's reaction, but something hot and uncomfortable stirred in her stomach. Snow had seemed genuinely happy, but it was all so complicated. How was she going to tell Lily?

"She does?" Emma's hand stroked her cheek, and she didn't need light to picture Emma's expression.

"In the laundry room," she began, then Emma's mouth was on hers, gently softening the apology she'd already started to form. "She guessed."

Emma shook her head, sighing. She dropped her forehead against Regina's and lay there, with her blond hair tickling Regina's neck. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she answered, then stopped, letting herself truly weigh the idea. "She was happy."

Lifting herself back up on her elbow, Emma tried to make sense of that. Her eyes were so soft that Regina held her closer, a hand on her back.

"Yeah?"

"Really happy," Regina promised. Snow hadn't smiled like that since before, a lifetime ago, when she'd wanted a little sister moe than anything and Regina had spent so many nights nauseated at the thought of it. Maybe it wasn't fair to think of that, because this was her grandchild too. Regina smirked, then almost laughed when she remembered Snow's first thought. "She thought the baby was Mal's."

Emma tilted her head, then grinned. Her hand rested over Regina's heart, holding her. "Something you and the dragon lady need to tell me?"

"Not like that," Regina insisted. Reaching up, she intertwined her fingers with Emma's. "Like a donor."

"Ah, well, I guess that's okay?" Emma shook her head again, her voice soft. Then she kissed Regina's forehead. Her mouth left a warm spot that tingled. "Did you tell her that we're so magic that we didn't need one?"

"No," she said, her voice weak in her throat, unsure.

Emma cuddled against her, her head next to Regina's on the pillow. "Too bad," she muttered, getting comfortable. "Would have been nice to see her face."

After that, she thought Emma was asleep, because her breathing had become regular and slow, but she broke Regina's thoughts. "She'll want to-"

Toying with the soft curls in Emma's hair, Regina sighed. "I know."

Emma's hand moved to her belly, a familiar warm weight over the swell beginning to show. Emma's fingers slipped through buttons of her pyjama top and rested against her skin. "I kinda liked keeping her secret."

"She's not in danger," Regina promised, but she wasn't sure how much either of them could believe that. They'd nearly lost Henry: to a sleeping curse, to Pan and then Zelena. This baby would inevitably end up coveted by some kind of dark force at some point, perhaps before she was even born. They feared that together, holding each other in the darkness, because together, they'd beaten all of those things.

Together, they'd protect this child, like her brother. With Emma holding her, she almost believed it.

Setting her note cards down on the dresser, Regina sighed and walked to her closet. Reading over her speech for the tenth time could wait until she got dressed. After several weeks of debate, the former July Fourth barbecue had been renamed the Midsummer barbecue, because Storybrooke had finally agreed that they didn't feel particularly tied to the holidays of the nation that had so little influence over them. Regina had not pointed out that they followed the laws of the state of Maine, and used the paper money of the United States, if only to avoid another debate on whether they should revive the gold standard of the Enchanted Forest and slap Snow's face all over their money.

Not that Regina wanted it to be her face instead, she'd had enough of that in the old land, and they could put Pongo on that ridiculous idea for all she cared. Sentimentality had no place in economic decisions, especially when restructuring the money used in town would take so much of her time and energy, when she was so tired. A Midsummer barbecue in the park, that happened to feature red, white and blue decorations, and fireworks, was fine. She'd stay awake for those, somehow. Restructuring their entire monetary system because some of them wanted to be independent from the country where they hid was a waste of her energy and she'd have to avoid it.

She rested her hands on her belly, above her deep red panties, (one of Emma's favourite pairs) and stroked the slight roundness that only she and Emma saw. Sometimes she could still tell herself nothing was there, because it had been such a gradual change, but some of her trousers were tight enough to no longer button. Some of her dresses were uncomfortable and she'd already retired one pencil skirt, at least until she had time to alter it.

Other than the relentless exhaustion that she seemed to share with Emma, pregnancy had become tolerable. Her body temperature had been reassuringly stable in the weeks since she and Emma had cast the joining spell. She'd been a little nauseated, but she could hide how she felt when she needed to and Emma had been right: ginger ale and crackers helped. Her breasts remained swollen and heavy, and had changed enough that most of her bras had already needed to be resized. Headaches like the brutal ones she'd suffered before the joining spell came rarely and sometimes, strangely, hit Emma instead. Even so, tentatively, hopefully: everything was fine. Mal promised the baby was perfectly healthy, as did Emma, and whenever Regina reached for their child with her magic, she responded: unformed and unaware, but strong, like a lighthouse flashing across the bay.

Emma emerged from the bathroom, breaking Regina's thoughts, wrapped in a towel that hung loose on her back. She dabbed some of the water out of her hair then used her fingers and magic to guide away the rest and dry her hair. Regina could have watched her all morning: running her fingers through her soft blonde hair. It fell on Emma's shoulders gently, familiar and warm like sunshine.

Emma caught her staring, she dropped her towel onto the floor and advanced, grinning with wicked intent. Emma wrapped herself around her, her clean skin against Regina's.

"We could be late," she teased, kissing Regina's neck. "You need to practice your speech."

"I thought I'd practiced my speech enough considering that I wrote the damn thing and already had it memorised?" Regina reminded her, mimicking Emma's mocking tone from yesterday.

"I'm just trying to be helpful," Emma insisted. She stole a notecard and held it against her chest. "See? I can hold them up for you."

Using magic to fling the card back into the pile with the others, Regina kissed her hard enough to stop her protest. "We can't be late."

"We're going to be the only ones on time. The dragons will be late, the dwarves are always late-" Emma continued to complain as she got dressed. All of her clothes fit as they always had, and Regina couldn't help being a little jealous because Emma didn't have to wriggle into her jeans.

Emma lifted Regina's dress, the vivid red one that Regina had set aside because it was tight. Studying Regina's figure, Emma altered it. The dress shivered, subtly, as if affected by a breeze that only hit it, then she handed it over.

"Thank you."

"I've been practicing," Emma said, beaming with pride. "Henry keeps growing out of his jeans."

Regina joined her sigh. "He's so tall."

"I know." Emma moved to zip up the red dress, her fingers gentle on Regina's back and even more so when they moved her hair out of the way. She kissed the back of her neck, and they could have stayed. She could have taken Emma right out of her clothes and pressed her to the bed. Emma knew it, and grinned before she slipped out of reach.

"We're going to be late."

Of course, they ended up being way too early. Henry had been roped in by Ruby, Granny and Lily to help with the food, and they were still setting up in a big tent when Regina and Emma arrived. The rest of the town trickled in to complete various tasks: the dwarves making sure the barbeque was hot and the beer tent was ready, the fairies fussing with streamers and bunting, and Cruella and Ursula putting the beer tent to shame with an elaborate tavern that they brought into existence with magic on the edge of the park.

Emma couldn't help smiling as the line for ale, gin and tonic, and rum punch curled around the tavern, even though it was barely past noon. The rules had been different in the old world, she'd seen them put out beer with breakfast, and still, it made her raise her eyebrows.

Ursula brought her a drink, something that glimmered red but turned to blue if she stirred it. She handed Regina something equally elaborate, and Emma watched Regina do that little tap of her finger that took the alcohol (or caffeine) out of whatever she was drinking. Ursula knew, but maybe they didn't worry about alcohol and pregnancy under the sea.

Henry carried over potato salad for them to try, because he'd added more mustard to the recipe and they hugged him together, making him blush.

"It's good, kid," Emma said, licking her spoon.

Regina rubbed his shoulder. "Thank you for helping."

"Lily and Red made it fun," he said, tilting his head back towards them. He lowered his voice and looked at them conspiratorially. "Even if they won't stop flirting."

"What?" Emma asked, almost dropping her spoon. Lily was so shy, and Ruby- well, that had been cursed Ruby- Red was different.

Regina's eyes ran over the two young women where they cut watermelon together near the picnic tables. She had the same appraising look that she saved for teachers of Henry's who might not be good enough, and all of his project partners.

Emma took her hand and squeezed it. "Wonder what Mal thinks?" she whispered.

Henry waved cheerfully at Archie, who'd arrived in an outrageously striped red, white and blue waistcoat, and hurried off to tell him about the potato salad, or maybe the spinach and kale thing that was way too healthy. Regina's eyes followed him before they went back to Lily and Red.

"I don't know. It's just flirting..." Regina trailed off. "It seems distinctly unfair that I have three children all in such different phases of life. I'll barely have figured out what Lily needs before Henry's driving-"

Emma didn't mention that David's lessons had already taken care of that, however illegally. They'd promised to only use the very back roads.

"And baby-fish figures out how to walk." Emma meant to tease her, but her voice softened so much that Regina looked at her, curious. "I never saw that, I mean, I remember Henry toddling across the room and holding my fingers, but I never saw that, not really."

"This time, you will." Regina was so rarely the voice of optimism that Emma's soft smile turned into a very bright grin.

"Yeah."

Regina moved close to her, leaning in so close that her lips almost touched Emma's ear. "But you have to stop calling her that."

"What? Baby-fish?"

"Our child is not a sea creature," Regina corrected her, pulling away to glare properly at Emma.

Shrugging, Emma stole a glance at Regina's belly, wishing she could touch her. Touching Regina's belly grounded her, reminded her that what was most precious was safe. "Maybe we should ask Henry, he's good at naming things."

Rolling her eyes, Regina glanced over at their son. "Anything he comes up with can't be worse than baby-fish," she muttered. Emma nudged her and beamed, because today was a happy day. Celebrations that didn't get ruined were rare, and she wanted to keep this one intact if she could.

Snow waved at Emma with a bright smile that grew steadily more shy the longer it took for Emma to return it. Regina gave her a very pointed look, and Emma waved because it made the look go away. Regina didn't have to remind her to be nice, because Emma remembered.

"Come on," Regina said, "after we talk to your parents we can go find out what Red's intentions are towards my daughter." That hint of firm disapproval made Emma beam, and talking to her parents for however long she had to would be a acceptable because she got to watch the conversation that came after it. Not that dragons or werewolves needed that much protecting from each other, or that Mal wouldn't have given Red some kind of deeply caring threat, but Regina being mom was one of Emma's favourite aspects of her personality, and Lily needed it. She'd been alone, been lost, and having her moms involved in her love life would be annoying, but kind of nice.

She couldn't think that about her own parents yet, but overbearing moms was a long way from parents who took a baby and still didn't see it as wrong. Regina wanted Emma to make peace, to get past her emotions, but she couldn't, not yet. The vivid pain of letting Henry go, still flashed through her some nights, and Emma had done that willingly, to give him a life. Losing Lily when Mal had wanted her so much was more pain than Emma could fathom, and her parents had done that, without apology or regret. She wouldn't get over that, not yet.

The first potion she tried to drink stung, like drinking coffee too fast, but Lily was fireproof. At least, that was what she kept telling herself as the array of highly flammable, explosive potions grew around them. Mom loved fireworks, and had nearly begged Regina to be allowed to run the display for the party. Lily hadn't known that her mom could be as excited as a kid when it came to anything, but fireworks, she adored.

She'd planned for days, collected potions and components, lining them up on the end of the dock so they could fire them off over the bay. At least, Lily had thought that was the likely plan. In reality, they were drinking the strange smelling liquids in dragon form then flying up to spit fire in various shapes and colours. Mom had just gone to get something, some kind of silverleaf that was the last ingredient in the grand finale. Lily stared at the barrels, wondering if she had a sense of taste in her other form. Some of them smelled pretty weird and she didn't want to know what the glowing ones tasted like at all.

Apparently dragons couldn't be poisoned, at least, that was what the book said, but it was difficult to base her understanding of her other form off of an old children's book that was mostly written in old English. She poked the last barrel, Mom's grand finale, with a wooden spoon and it hissed and flashed colours, even without heat. It was supposed to be thrilling, and Mom was just so excited about it. It stunk though, like gunpowder and cinnamon and it was such an odd combination.

"Hello Lily," the Blue Fairy said, startling Lily away from the barrel. What was her name again: Rule-something? Did everyone just call her Blue? Did she want to be called Mother Superior, because she still dressed like a nun. "I didn't mean to startle you, I've brought a component for your fireworks from the convent garden." She held out a bunch of dried herbs, that smelled sweet, almost like licorice.

"What is it?" Lily asked, then chided herself for being rude. "Sorry, I mean thanks."

"It's no trouble, child," the Blue Fairy said, smiling as sweet as her herbs. "I believe your mother was looking for silverleaf?"

"She was," Lily answered, relieved that Mom would have her grand finale. She'd be thrilled. "I'll let her know that we have some, thanks again."

The Blue Fairy handed over the herbs and nodded, her expression as calm as a winter pond. "Excellent. Can't wait for the show."

"Thanks again, Mom's been looking for this for days."

Nodding and bidding the Blue Fairy goodbye, Lily send her mother a message on the phone she never used, even though she had it, and it was a nice one. Mal appeared a moment later, because she never replied except in person. Lily was half-convinced that she didn't understand the buttons and didn't want to ask.

"You found it?" Mal asked, reaching for the herbs to sniff them.

"The Blue Fairy- Mother-"

"Reul Ghorm," Mal said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "How quaint."

"She seemed nice," Lily replied, watching Mal tear the leaves from the stem and crush them into the last two barrels. Sparks flew just from the addition of a few leaves and Mal stirred them in with a wave of her hand. Lily used the spoon in her barrel, but Mom didn't do things that way.

"I'm sure she did," Mom said, finishing the spell and losing her annoyed expression. "Ah well, what matters is that she had the silverleaf and now we're ready, not a moment too soon." She gestured towards the setting sun over the hills behind Storybrooke and the magic street lights that Mom loved so much had already come on for the night. "Will you inform Regina that we're ready?"

Lily sent that text, even though she stared at her mother's pocket and her own phone. "Sure."

Mal ignored Lily's look, the way she always did, and stood watching the sky darken. "It'll be a night to remember," she said. "I haven't gotten to run a full show like this in centuries," she continued, her voice full of wonder. "And I've never had help."

"I still don't think I can roll like you want me to," Lily said, but the warmth of her mom's smile was hard to ignore. She was just so happy and part of that was because Lily was here, Emma, Regina and Henry were safe, and Mom's nest was secure. Lily wasn't sure how long Mom had lived alone, but it must have been longer than she liked, or wanted, because now, surrounded by people, she glowed with joy.

"You'll be fantastic," Mal promised, drawing Lily in close to hug her. "I know it."

When the darkness was deep enough, they transformed, leaving their tiny human bodies behind and becoming dragons. Mal said this was her true form, that the human was just a vessel she inhabited. Lily wasn't sure, because shapeshifting was weird, and she wasn't good at it, and it didn't make any sense, but when Lily was the dragon, she was brave. Her scales fit the way no clothing ever had, and she moved easier, like she knew her skin better. Her claws were sharp, yet capable of such delicate movements, and her wings- When she flew, she was home. She rose into the sky beside her mother, following her wingbeats as they gained enough altitude for the first fireworks. The first barrel hadn't been that bad, just a hint of sulphur, and Lily could still taste it in the back of her throat. Luckily, this form was less picky about what she drank, and part of her, it must have been the genetic memory thing, knew that when she breathed fire, it would wreath outward, bright yellow.

When she dropped, spinning beside her mother, that flame became a spiral around her and the cries of the crowd carried upward. Her dragon heart knew that they loved it, that she was worthy of every moment of awe, because the dragon didn't doubt. Lily let that carry her and drank the next barrel. The crimson tasted like molasses, and the blue had the funniest aftertaste, like grape bubblegum. Mom did the more complicated aerial maneuvers, letting Lily carry the easier part of the tricks. Together, they painted the sky with light and colour, raining beauty down on the crowd below.

Landing beside her mother, she picked up the barrel in her claws, and nodded before she downed it. It really did taste like licorice, which was almost a pleasant surprise after the rest of the barrels. Mom said something in that rumbling dragon-speak, but Lily didn't hear it, or understand, before darkness deeper than night took her and dragged her down.

"Is that it?" Emma asked, nudging Regina as if she'd fallen asleep.

"I thought Mal had a finale planned," Regina said, nudging Emma back a little harder because she was awake.

Emma sat up from the blanket, immediately missing the weight of Regina against her shoulder. She could have stayed there all night. Everyone else had started moving, gathering their things. Regina flicked the street lights around the park back on with a wave of her hand, and in the light she looked worried.

"Mal said she'd been working on a finale, she'd been looking for the last herb for days. Something silver," Regina said, rubbing her forehead.

"Maybe she couldn't find it?" Henry said, walking up to the them. He'd taken a blanket a short distance away, because he was just a little too cool for his moms.

"I don't know." Regina searched the crowd, resting her hands on her hips. "Are they back?"

Emma and Henry looked as well. Regina had a point. Emma couldn't picture Mal willingly passing up an opportunity to be (deservedly) adored for all the hard work she'd put into her fireworks. Lily was shy, but it would be good for her to see how happy everyone was, even without a finale.

"I don't see them," Henry said and Emma nodded. They weren't in the crowd, and if they'd teleported, they'd be right in front of them.

Leaving the blanket on the grass, she reached for Regina. "What is it?"

"They should be here," Regina said. She tried to smile and failed. "Mal never passes up an opportunity."

"I know," Emma agreed. "Maybe something went wrong with the finale?"

"That we would have seen," Regina said, turning her eyes towards the docks and the sea.

"Henry-"

"Stay here," Henry finished for them. "I'll stay with Red, okay?"

Regina found Emma's hand and they teleported together, wrapped in Regina's familiar purple smoke. They appeared on the dock, surrounded by empty barrels that still sparkled with the remnants of firework potions. Regina brought a light to her hand and Emma followed suit, she still didn't see anything. Mal and Lily weren't-

They floated, side by side in the sea. Both dragons lay in the water, like sleeping whales. The last two barrels, which must have been Mal's finale, floated empty beside them.

"No!" Regina called, running to the edge of the dock. For a moment, Emma thought she was going to jump in, coat and clothes and all, but instead she lifted them, dragging them up from the water. The strain of it vibrated through Emma, as if she were doing the spell as well, and she added her strength, steadying Regina's magic as they brought the dragons out of the sea. Bringing them to the beach by the pier took enough energy that Emma panted, and Regina caught her for balance.

On the sand, the two dragons lay beside each other, their breath steaming in the faint light.

"What's wrong?" Emma said. Regina started to run before she had her breath back. Emma chased her and when they stopped she wasn't sure which one of them was dizzy.

"They're asleep," Regina said, reaching for Mal's dark hide. Emma dropped her hands to Lily, and Regina was right, Lily's breathing was slow and even.

"What happened? Why are they asleep?"

Shaking her head, Regina knelt in the sand beside Mal's muzzle. She brushed her hand against her nose, frowning. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense. It's like they fell asleep in midair."

When she pulled her hand away, Emma noticed the dark blood smeared against the and rushed to her. "Regina-"

"Dragons are heavy," Regina promised, sticking her hand into her pocket. "It's nothing."

Digging into her own pocket, Emma pulled out one of the paper napkins from dinner. "Here. You should have waited for me to help."

"You did help," Regina reminded her, holding the paper against her nose. The bleeding continued soaking into the napkin. "Nosebleeds are perfectly normal."

Emma brushed her fingers against the bridge of Regina's nose, picturing the tiny blood vessels healing. A light flashed between them, warm and golden, and Regina shut her eyes.

"Thanks."

When Regina wasn't bleeding, Emma could concentrate on the sleeping dragons. "Is it some kind of poison? Did Mal pick the wrong herb or something?"

"She wouldn't," Regina insisted. "She knows them too well."

"Even here?" Emma asked and Regina's glare suggested that yes, even here, Mal wouldn't have accidentally poisoned herself and their daughter. "Something else," Emma pondered, resting her hand on Regina's shoulder. "Would anyone want to hurt them or put them to sleep?"

Regina stood, waving her hands and bringing both barrels out of the ocean to rest at her feet. The wood smelled only of seawater to Emma, but Regina made it sparkle for a moment.

"Sleeping curse," she said, her eyes darkening with despair. "A powerful one. Someone put it in the last barrel so they consumed it willingly."

"But why put Mal and Lily to sleep? What's the point?" Emma brushed sand from her knees and stood, putting a hand on Regina's back. "I don't understand."

"We need to get back to Henry," Regina said, and fear made her voice crack. "If something took the dragons out-"

Emma didn't even take the time to tell her they'd be okay before she teleported them back; her bright smoke scooped them up and took them back to Henry.