AN: Wow, writing something as sickeningly corny as this chapter reminds me why I'm currently single :-D Thank you for your lovely words on the last chapter, and just to let you know, I've decided to write an epilogue. So there is still chapter 26 and the epilogue to come. Anyway, I hope I did this story justice with this chapter, and gave you all the Swan Queen feels that you could possibly want. Sorry for any tiny mistakes, and let me know what you think :-)

I followed Zelena's advice and returned to the Charming's loft, but only to find that no one was home. Not a surprising revelation considering it's a weekday. Snow and Henry would have been at school, and David and Emma at the station.

At first, I decided to go straight there instead. To walk into the blonde's office in exactly the same way that I've always done. To stand in the doorway, maybe lean on the door frame, and make some witty remark about how, after all these years, I still seem to be paying her to play trash can basketball.

But at the final moment I changed my mind, stopping myself short of actually entering the familiar building. It didn't seem right to just fall back on old habits, especially not after what she gave to me. I wanted this apology to be bigger, better, something that would leave her in no doubt of my feelings.

I've never been one for grand romantic gestures, partly because I've barely had reason to make them, but mainly because I've never been the one to bare my soul. My mother taught me that love is weakness. She made me feel guilty for the way I felt about Daniel. To her, relationships were a way to gain power, and sex was the price to pay to keep it. For years I believed her – agreed with her – and so it stands that I've never made any of the grand declarations of love that all the fairytales talk about. The sort of sickeningly, sweet gestures that I'm certain the Charming's make ten times before breakfast.

At first I felt proud that I'd managed to maintain my dignity while those around me made idiotic fools of themselves. But then I realised that though I've never done anything like that in a romantic capacity, I've always had a flare for the flamboyant.

As the Evil Queen I spent most my days thinking up ways in which I could publicly express my feelings. Grand balls where I ordered the execution of the honored guests. Forcing Snow to eat a poisoned apple rather than just outright killing her. Crashing a royal wedding just to declare my plans to the world. Those are just a few examples. In truth, there are hundreds of others. All brutal, all cruel, and all done to exact some sort of vengeance. But the one thing they all have in common, is passion. I was passionate in my desire to destroy all the happy endings, and though that passion came from hatred, it was no less real.

If I've learnt anything over the last few weeks, it's that passion is the fuel for all our emotions and as Zelena so recently reminded me, I have the propensity to feel the deepest. I realised then, that if I could harness my over exaggerated, theatrical tendencies and focus them on something positive for once. Then not only would the residents of Storybrooke finally see just how much I've changed, but Emma would discover just how much I truly love her, and how sorry I am for my recent behaviour.

That was four hours ago, and since then I haven't moved from my booth at the back of Granny's. Don't get me wrong, having put on several shows in the past I'm not short on ideas, but this has to be right. Perfect.

Granny approaches my table with the coffee pot, distracting me from thought as she automatically begins refilling my cup.

"Stay here much longer and I'm going to have to order more coffee!" She quips in her usual motherly way.

I smile my appreciation, but drop my pen and quickly move to hide my handwritten notes when I observe her trying to sneak a peek over my shoulder. I glare at her, and feeling guilty for being caught, she tries to cover her curiosity under the illusion of good service.

"Can I get you anything to eat, Regina?" She asks pleasantly.

I shake my head, still full from the chicken and red pepper salad I ate at lunch, "No. Thank you."

She disappears back into the kitchen and when I'm certain that I'm once again alone, I uncover the paper I've been working on. The sheet is covered with hastily scrawled ideas, some of them crossed out, some underlined, and though I feel as though I have the basics of what I want to say, for some reason I'm still not happy with it.

I never thought that it would take so much effort to put one's emotions into words. I didn't realise how frustrating it could be to spend hours working on something and still not be satisfied with the end result. I'm so close, but I'm not yet there. I just need that final burst of inspiration.

As if on cue the diner bell rings and in strolls Emma. She's wearing her usual. Boots, skinny jeans, a tight polar neck jumper and her red leather jacket, her sheriff badge clipped to her belt. She walks over to the serving counter, casting a cursory glance around the diner as she waits to be served. I sink down into my booth, hiding from view as I observe her interaction with the portly owner.

"Afternoon Sheriff," Granny greets, smiling warmly. "What can I get you?"

"The usual for, David," the blonde replies, taking out her phone and trying to mask her disappointment at the lack of messages.

I briefly feel bad that I still haven't acknowledged any of her contact attempts, and grow determined to make her forget all the confusion soon enough.

She returns her phone to her pocket. "I'll have a grilled cheese, bear claw and hot chocolate to go." She informs, once again reminding me of just how juvenile her appetite is.

I roll my eyes at the predictability of her order and quickly scrawl, eats like a child, across the top of my paper.

As she waits for her order, I watch her cheekily sneak a fry from the edge of Grumpy's plate. Never one to miss a beat, the dwarf notices the attempted theft and quickly swats the blonde's hand away. Emma drops the fry, the ketchup staining her jeans, but undeterred she picks the fry back up, eats it, and dabs at the stain with nonchalant shrug.

I screw my face up in mild disgust, uncertain how someone so beautiful can be so…unrefined…and that's when it comes to me, that final burst of inspiration that I've been lacking.

I hastily jot down my final few words and pause to review my work, smiling proudly at the finished result. If a grand gesture is what this town want, then it's damned well what I'm going to give them.

When I look back up, Emma and her lunch have gone.

I check my watch and note that it's early afternoon. If I return home now it will give me just enough time to shower and change before the start of the show, but first, I need to ensure I have an audience.

With a wave of my hand I magic up a poster. Printed on bright yellow paper with loopy cursive writing, it looks as professional as anything I could ever buy. With another wave of my hand, I replicate the poster and magically attach it to every lamp post, building and dumpster in town.

Finishing my coffee, I gather my things and swiftly exit the diner, leaving the prototype poster on the table for Granny to easily find.

Storybrooke

You are cordially invited to attend a performance of;

The Swan Song

17:00

Main Street

xxx

It's five minutes to five when I poof myself on top of the building opposite the library. The sun is shining, the microphone is set, and everything is ready for my bold declaration.

Below me on Main Street, the residents are slowly starting to congregate. Fairytale folk are nothing if not nosy, and as I'd hoped, my vague posters are attracting enough of a crowd to draw the desired attention for my plan.

Further down the street I watch as Granny leads her customers out of the diner, she has her beloved crossbow in hand and is followed by seven dwarfs all carrying axes. Tink and the fairy's make their way down from the nunnery, and Merida and Hook – a strange combination to be sure – exit the woods. From the workshop come Geppetto, Pinocchio and Archie, and Michael temporarily closes the garage. The entire town is here - even Gold - the only person missing is the star of the show.

It's funny, but during my time as Queen I talked freely in front of hundreds of people at court. It didn't faze me, I was always a confident public speaker – it's one of the reasons I make such a good mayor – but stood here, high above the town and preparing to declare my heart, I'm terrified.

I briefly consider abandoning my plan and fleeing my post before anyone sees me. I could speak to Emma when we're alone tonight, avoid exposing myself to the possibility of ridicule and humiliation. But if Snow has taught me anything at all, it's that love is about taking risks. It's about taking chances and putting your heart on the line, and trusting that your lover will always have your back.

Emma saved my life, and though nothing I do will ever compare to the gift that she gave me, I'd be letting her down if I didn't even try.

I hear voices in the street below and look down. Snow, David, Henry, Zelena and Emma have exited the sheriff's station and are making their way over to the unsettled crowd just beneath me.

"Sheriff, what's going on?" Grumpy demands, as always, the loudest voice in the town.

Neither Emma nor David can get a word in before, Granny asks the next question," Where did these posters come from? What do they mean?"

She waves one of the posters in front of Emma, and I briefly wonder if it's the one that I left for her at my table.

"We don't know where they came from," Emma replies, trying to calm the disgruntled mob, "But there's no need to panic until we know exactly what's going on."

The town clock begins to strike five, and taking my cue from my lover's words, I raise my hands and use my magic to conjure up a white, rolling mist. As planned, the mist moves in the exact same way as the purple cloud of the Dark Curse, but instead of bringing a new realm and a strange world with it, this mist simply brings night.

I hear startled gasps from below and watch with amusement as several of the residents set fire to burning torches with disconcerting predictability. My family use battery torches - a far more modern source of light.

"Swan?" Hook asks, inching slightly towards the blonde as daylight fades and the mist draws closer.

"Just wait," Emma instructs, raising a hand to prevent anyone from reacting too soon.

Given the unlucky history of this town, I'm surprised to see it's sheriff remain so calm. If I didn't know better, I'd say that it's almost as if she knows what's about to happen, that she knows it's nothing sinister.

As the mist rolls over the residents of Storybrooke, they all duck. There's a few startled cries and held breaths, but the fear quickly subsides when the mist disappears leaving only night in its wake. When they look up, it's to be greeted by a sky filled with a thousand stars.

Of course the idea behind this impromptu end to the day, was darkness. To have a visual representation of everything they perceive me to be, but to show that just because it exists, it isn't necessarily something to be feared. It can be beautiful too.

I wave my hand again and from nowhere, the sound of music carries across the still night air. Like the darkness, the music is well thought out, an instrumental of Glorious, by Andreas Johnson, a song whose words perfectly describe what Emma means to me.

"Is that music?" Zelena asks, puzzled.

Charming nods, "Sounds familiar!"

I roll my eyes at the sudden, horrifying thought, that I've somehow picked a song that is also significant to Charming and Snow's relationship. The irony indeed. It's becoming more and more apparent that regardless of how I try to steer us off course, the closer Emma and I get, the more we create a modern retelling of her parent's fairytale.

Thankfully, I don't have long to dwell on that saccharine thought, as the slow building introduction suddenly bursts into a wave of sound. I wave my hands again to begin part three of my show, and all eyes instantly turn skywards.

"Is that snow?" Henry asks, watching in awe as what appears to be a blanket of flakes, begin to flutter down from a cloudless sky.

Archie shakes his head, "We weren't forecast snow."

"Yeah?" Grumpy retorts sarcastically, "Well we weren't forecast sudden darkness either, but it's happened!"

As the first of the flakes reach ground level, Snow is the first to realise what they actually are, "They're feathers," She gasps, catching one in the palm of her hand. Her gaze flicks across to her daughter, "They're Swan feathers!"

Emma's eyes widen almost comically, "Should I be worried?" she asks, pulling one free from her hair to examine it. "First we're all invited to a Swan song and now this? Either our next big bad is Mother Goose, or I've seriously managed to piss someone off."

"The magic is strange," Zelena interjects, scanning one of the feathers with her own dark power. "It's a combination of light and dark. I've never felt anything like this before."

"I have," Rumple replies, stepping up the small group with a knowing look. When David raises a questioning eyebrow, he simply shrugs in return. "Just because I've experienced this before, it doesn't mean that I know who's responsible!"

"Well where did you experience it?" Emma demands, quickly losing patience.

I cover my mouth to stifle a chuckle at the blondes protective behaviour. Always the Saviour, she'd never stop to consider the possibility that this was a declaration of love. Her mother on the other hand, is beginning to catch on.

"Don't worry so much, honey," She states softly, resting a calming hand on her daughter's forearm. "Intuition tells me that this isn't a bad thing…"

With the visual part of my plan well under way, I decide to begin the verbal before the natives start to get restless. Nervously clearing my throat, I take a deep breath and step up to the microphone. The sound has been set to just the right level to carry easily over the music.

"The Swan Song," I announce, the words carrying over the rooftops and echoing off the buildings.

Emma recognises my voice immediately.

"Regina!?"

I click my fingers and a giant spotlight appears, lighting up my position for the entire town to see. There are several more gasps and a few groans but surprisingly, everyone – including Grumpy – remains silent.

With shaking hands and unstable legs, I unfold the piece of paper I was writing on at the diner, and begin to read aloud.

"When angered, I'm the first to attack,

During arguments, I have the last word,

I'm stubborn, selfish, quick to stab in the back,

And from vengeance I can't be deterred"

There's a ripple of laughter at the end of the first verse and I find that it actually helps to relax me a little. Too sacred to look for anyone's reaction, I take another deep breath and begin the second.

"I'm defensive when threatened,

Arrogant, when wronged,

I'm naturally mean when I'm scared,

I may not be sunshine, lightness or good,

The truth? I'm emotionally impaired"

At this I dare to look up and find myself staring straight at, Snow. She's leaning into David, and clutching her chest as though at any minute she might melt into a puddle on the floor. Her expression is one of such sickening happiness, that I find myself wanting to hastily continue.

"I'm not much of a hero,

I've made plenty of mistakes,

And I'm certain there's years more to come,

But with you I'm improving; more patient, less rash,

You're the reason for who I've become"

At this my gaze flicks to Emma, and when I see the look of sheer love that she's directing my way, my nerves all but disappear. Feeling suddenly bold, and knowing the words I wrote by heart, I discard the piece of paper and choose to recite the rest of my poem directly to my lover.

"I know that I hurt you,

By shutting you out,

And I'm sorry if I dared you to run,

It took me a moment to banish my doubt,

But believe me, True Love has begun,"

A warm smile stretches across my face as I begin the final verse, knowing that the joy of watching Emma in the diner earlier this afternoon, is written into every word.

"You may be annoying, you eat like a child,

You're slobby, uncouth, an ex con,

But you are my saviour, you drive this queen wild,

My beautiful, imperfect, Miss Swan."

There's a moment of absolute silence, a split second where the only sound is the childish laughter of the children playing amongst the falling feathers, and then Emma takes a single step forward.

"You know; I don't think anyone's ever apologised to me by using so many insults…" She teases, her gorgeous smile widening to reveal her dimples.

Beside her, Snow discreetly wipes away several tears and Zelena gives me the thumbs up. It's then that I know I did good. That I finally got something right.

"Emma," I chastise, easing into the suddenly playful mood that has fallen between us, "You should know by now that wasn't an apology…"

I wave my hands one final time and disappear in a puff of purple smoke. Reappearing a half second later on the ground in front of the blonde.

"This," I state, "Is an apology…"

Before she has time to react, I sweep her into my arms and dip her down for a breathtaking kiss. The town erupts in loud cheers and applause, and with click of my fingers, fireworks explode overhead.

Breaking the kiss, we straighten ourselves up and I rest my hand against the center of Emma's chest, pressing my forehead to hers.

"Thank you," I whisper, gripping at the fabric beneath my hand in an obvious indication of

her heart, "…for this."

She smiles lovingly in return, "You always had my heart, Gina," she replies, green eyes staring deep into my soul, "I just made it official."

Feeling overcome with emotion I find that I can't express myself with words so instead of trying, I simply tighten my grip on her shirt and pull her lips back to mine. At first the kiss is rough and demanding, but it quickly melts into something so much more. Our tongues stop fighting for dominance and begin to gently coax and caress, and her fingers at my hair begin to stroke rather than tug.

A rush of warmth washes over me, a sense of completion, and I realise that this is True Love in all it's amazing, powerful glory. My mother was so wrong, this doesn't feel like weakness, it's strength.

Emma breaks our kiss to press a trail of chaste kisses across my cheek and towards my ear, "Take me to bed, Gina," She whispers hotly, the command alone making my very core ache with want.

And just like that, love switches to burning lust, a reality I think that we're both going to have to get used to considering our fiery past.

"But I'm not tired, Sheriff," I drawl seductively, offering her a wicked grin.

Her smile widens, "Just as well," She replies, her words dripping with desire, "Because I have no intention of letting you sleep, Madam Mayor."

I pull her lips back to mine, and with the fireworks still blazing in the night sky above us, the crowd fails to notice as we disappear in a puff of pink smoke.