Normally, I don't like to give too much away. However, in response to a review: since I began writing this during lockdown, I suppose the idea of a sickness just came naturally, but I also began writing this to get away from reality for a while, so I didn't make it a big focus. Feel free to assume that this illness is something that a normally robust population would recover from. Regina's just being extra cautious.
Warning for this chapter is in the title.
War and Loss
After a somewhat subdued birthday dinner and a restless night's sleep, Emma spoke little on their return home. The meetings with various village representatives had not given them as much information as she had hoped and something in her gut told her that this was the calm before the storm. She felt wholly unprepared to face whatever lay beyond the border between their land and Snow's, and with increasing regularity, she wished that her wife was able to accompany her when she next attempted to burst her mother's blinkered bubble.
On the plus side, Regina's foresight and logistical competence gave her some peace of mind. Their own people were prepared to face any opposition if Snow's kingdom fell and their loyalty to their queen went far beyond the aesthetic – they had confidence in their monarch that had been earned over a generation. They knew that Regina would fight with them and for them, not hide behind them. Emma hoped they knew that she would do no less.
By the time they reached Wood End, Emma was ready for the privacy of her chambers and an hour-long nap, but they had one stop left to make, and now that she knew more about the mysterious redhead's history with her wife, she was curious to see them together. In the three years they'd been married, despite many visits to their closest village, she had never been introduced to any individual besides the elected official who handled instructions to and from the crown.
Astra was wearing a modest work-dress and greeted them out by a small stable when they arrived. There was a grooming brush in her hand and an ageing mule by her side, but she abandoned both at the sound of many hoofbeats and wiped her hands vigorously on her apron before ushering the two queens inside her home.
Gone was the bed against one wall and the tiny table in the corner. A door had been built into one wall, with a bedroom beyond and a sturdy looking dining table took up the remaining space in the middle of the room. Shelves of herbs and unction lined a once-bare wall and the smell of something wholesome drifted from a bubbling pot on the fire. While still a very modest dwelling, Regina couldn't help but feel proud of the two women for the successes they'd achieved over the years.
"Mother!" Astra called as she untied her apron and hung it up. "We have visitors!"
A clattering sound came from the direction of the extra room, followed by shuffling, before the door opened and revealed an old woman wearing her own work clothes and a smile. "Your majesty," she greeted and grasped the dark queen's arm in an acquainted gesture that most wouldn't dare to try. Her sharp gaze didn't remain long on the brunette though, jumping over the queen's shoulder to land on Emma. "Finally ran out of excuses to keep her away, did you?" she all but smirked.
Regina rolled her eyes, hard. Twenty years of working with Frieda and Astra had created a camaraderie between the three that eventually evolved into an unspoken friendship. Astra retained her deference to the royal, but Frieda had decided to take full advantage of her advancing years and treated the ex-Evil Queen almost as another daughter. To Regina, who had longed for a real mother figure for as long as she could remember, the change was greeted with faux irritation and secret admiration.
"We do have a kingdom to run, old woman," the dark queen replied playfully. "Yes, this is my wife, Queen Emma." Turning to the blonde, she held out a hand and ushered Emma closer. "Emma, these are Frieda and her daughter, Astra. I have mentioned them," she added, as if there was no significance to that statement.
Emma eyed Regina knowingly, almost feeling the discomfort coming off her. Instinctively, she reached out a hand of her own, placing it just above the dark queen's elbow as she turned to face the two women. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. My wife speaks highly of you."
Frieda chuckled and reached to grasp the blonde's hand too. Looking deep into green eyes, she whispered, "Your wife speaks very little of you except to blush and change the subject."
"Mother!" Astra cried with embarrassment and hastened their guests to the table, lest the dark queen should decide to revisit old habits. "I'm sure their majesties are eager to get home after their long journey, we shouldn't keep them with idle talk."
Emma bit her lip to stop from laughing out loud, but squeezed her wife's elbow in comfort to show that she wasn't offended in any way. "What is it that you do for our kingdom, Astra?" she enquired once they were all sat around the table. "Your role must be significant to be needed at yesterday's gathering."
"Astra is a spy," Regina spoke bluntly, interrupting any reply while still shaking off the discomfort of feeling exposed. "Do you have any further information on the package of which you spoke?"
The redhead glanced between the two queens, saw the indignation behind hard green, and ploughed on before anything ugly could break out; she knew her queen's temper when she was riled and had no desire to see it that afternoon. "Only that I suspect it might have been a person."
Emma momentarily forgot her annoyance as she processed those words. "What makes you believe that?"
"The men charged with delivering the package said they had to 'knock it out' a couple of times. I can't imagine why they would transport an animal in such a way," she shrugged, knowing that she was right.
"Someone from my homeland?" Emma concluded in horror. Her mind swam with images of friends and acquaintances who might possibly be important enough to warrant a kidnapping. All grievances forgotten now, she turned to her wife with pleading eyes. "We need to know who they were delivering to king George."
"Do not assume that George was the recipient," Regina replied while she mulled it over. She was too deep in her own thoughts to think to be tactful or considerate of anyone else's feelings and missed the tell-tale signs of an argument brewing.
"Who else would be if this 'package' was being taken there?" the blonde asked heatedly. Deciding that she didn't have the energy right then to deal with the brunette's impenetrable façade, Emma stood abruptly and picked up the cloak she'd shed. "My apologies," she muttered to the two villagers before fleeing the house.
"Emma?" Regina called firmly after the blonde, but other than a cold glance, she got no response. Sighing heavily, she turned back to the two women. "Astra, on your next trip to market, in addition to the usual, I want you to glean anything you can about this captive."
"Understood," the redhead replied before standing to move to the fire where the pot continued to bubble. She sensed the queen's need to speak to her mother alone, and though the space was small, she knew that simply pretending not to hear was enough for the sake of politeness.
"You overstepped," Regina accused the old woman the moment they were alone at the table. "I could have you flogged for that," she added threateningly. She still couldn't believe that Frieda had said something so blatantly private in front of Emma. Her brain had to work hard not to see the indiscretion as a betrayal of her trust. What would her wife think? Would she be horrified? If the looks she's been sending you recently are evidence enough, you know she wouldn't. Resolutely ignoring her inner voice, she glared while waiting for an answer.
Frieda winced internally, but on the outside she appeared unaffected. "I'm an old woman, your majesty. I know love when I see it and you've had far too little of it in your life to waste it so senselessly." Mindless of the fire in dark eyes, she reached out and placed a hand on top of the dark queen's. She had seen enough in the blonde queen's eyes and mannerisms to know that the gossip mongers were right; there was something very special between the couple, something that had caught the whole kingdom unawares, and she had every intention of nurturing it. "It boggles my mind that two married people, who are very much smitten with each other, can be so very chaste."
The truth there and the compassion facing her effectively doused the queen's ire. If she only knew precisely how chaste your wife is, that voice whispered again. She dropped all pretence at being regal and impassable and sagged in her chair. "We've become far too personable; you've lost all your deference."
Frieda chuckled victoriously. "You prefer me this way. Who else do you have to tell you what anyone with two functioning eyes can see, hmm?" At the creeping uncertainty in warm brown eyes, that her queen so rarely allowed anyone to see, the old woman thought that more evidence might need to be shared. "When the announcement went out of your impending wedding to Princess Emma, the entire kingdom expected war to break out, if not from Snow White, then from the daughter you stole into your den."
"The whole kingdom?" Regina frowned.
"Some went as far as to speculate that you would return to your former terrifying glory once the marriage was official, but they were very few and easily quashed. There was wide spread concern though, your majesty." Frieda insisted. She knew that the sorceress routinely ignored gossip about her romantic interests, and there had been much of it over the years. "Imagine our surprise when the princess rode at your side like she was meant to be there all along."
"Do my people have nothing better to do with their time? Perhaps they are not working hard enough," Regina grumbled. It was an idle threat; she knew that her people worked hard and that gossip was the medium by which they entertained themselves, but it was still galling sometimes to find herself at the centre of it all.
"What else do people love to speculate on than the crown? Many are surprised and concerned by the fact that you and Queen Emma have yet to produce an heir," the old woman added cautiously.
That stung. "They should mind their own business."
Lowering her head slightly, the old woman pushed. "Beg your pardon, your majesty, but the future of the monarchy is the people's business."
There was some truth to that, the queen realised. Still, it wasn't as if she needed an heir. "I am immortal, they know this."
"Still?" Frieda asked, surprised that the curse had not yet been lifted. She had felt sure that Queen Emma was the one to break it.
Regina sighed. She held up a hand, waved the other hand over it to cut a sliver of flesh on the palm and watched it bleed for a few seconds before the wound began to heal over. "Satisfied?"
"But…?"
Dark eyes rolled in their sockets. What else were the people gossiping about? "More speculation?"
"Well… true love's kiss is said to cure any curse," Frieda reminded the monarch unnecessarily. An increasingly irritated expression shot her way, reminding her of how little the ex-Evil Queen liked the topic. "I would assume that at the altar, or on your wedding night at least…" she flushed, thinking that she might finally have hit a topic that was out of bounds even to her.
Annoyance flickered fleetingly into trepidation as Regina thought about the consequences of anyone guessing the shaky legal state of her marriage. "You assume that I kissed her that night… or any other night." A forced smirk rose to her mouth. "On the lips at least," she added, not prepared to risk sharing the truth.
Frieda recovered from her brief hesitation and frowned. From somewhere deep inside, anger rose; it was about damn time the queen learned to love again. "I suggest you get to it then!" she cried, surprising the queen and Astra, who continued to potter about in the kitchen area. "I…" she stammered immediately after her outburst. "I'm sorry, your majesty," she stuttered worriedly. A dark cloud had fallen over the queen's face, but behind the fury, there was hurt and this more than anything made her regret her words.
A stony silence filled the room for several tense seconds as the queen calmed her thoughts and the two women waited on her response. "That was definitely out of line. I appreciate that we have grown close over the years, but I am still your queen. You would do well to remember it. While I might assume that your intentions are for my welfare, you will not speak to me again on this subject. Am I clear?"
Properly chastised, the old woman agreed. She held her tongue until the sorceress and her ominous cloud were gone. Alone with her daughter again, she released a lungful of air and sank back into her chair.
"Mother, what has gotten into you?" Astra exclaimed from the kitchenette.
"I have no idea," Frieda muttered. "I really do want the best for her," she added mournfully.
"I know, mother," the redhead sighed. "I do too."
Regina ignored Emma's huffy silence as they made the last leg of their journey home. Her head was too full of jumbled thoughts and they were both tired. She didn't want it to be in the middle of the forest when they eventually broke out into an argument. She was still annoyed with Frieda for her impertinent observations. No matter how true they might be, she was in no mood to give them credence. Her kingdom would soon be under threat if they didn't do something to stop Snow's downfall and she would allow nothing else to take precedence.
After years of practise, it was almost effortless to convince herself of this.
She had half expected Emma to take her silent treatment to her room and avoid her entirely, but heavy footsteps followed her to her desk and, once the door was closed on their work space, the blonde wasted no time in sharing her stewed thoughts.
"You know, just when I think that you and I have managed to find a way to work together with understanding, you become this wall of ice again. Why do you have to shoot down everything I say when you're in one of these moods?" the blonde fumed from her ridged stance behind her own desk. When brown eyes looked up at her with blank emotion, she resisted the urge to reach across the divide and shake the brunette.
"My points were valid; it is not my fault if you are still overly sensitive to being challenged. After three years, I would have thought you'd be used to not getting your way all the time," Regina added in a tone that she immediately regretted. Her impassable expression hid it well though.
"Really?" Emma snarled. "We're back to that?" She was fed up of being treated like a spoilt princess. "Maybe if you learned how to feel without running away, you wouldn't have to take your bitterness out on other people!"
A flash of pain peeked through the dark queen's mask, but Emma was too angry to feel sorry for her wife this time. Regina stood slowly from her seat and moved to the window, leaving tension in her place. Rather than hide away in her room until they'd both calmed down a bit, Emma was rather more concerned with getting back to work and sank into her own chair with growl. An awkward silence stretched on longer than she could stand, until her anger broke and a despondent sigh fell from her lips. Both hands reached to push through her hair and she levelled a hard stare across the room.
"Let's just forget about it. We need to go through what I'll be looking to do on my next trip."
Regina winced, both at the sound of defeat in the blonde's voice and the thought of Emma going away again. Why are you doing this to her? Conflict ran like treacle through her veins, thick and suffocating. She kept falling back into the same trap – pushing Emma away by comparing her to Snow. If anything, from what she'd gleaned from her wife's tales of childhood, Snow had continued to be the brat she'd always been and Emma had compensated for her mother's spoilt behaviour by occasionally being more the parent. The last thing Emma deserved was to be treated as an extension of her mother, but Regina kept responding to that knee-jerk need to push her feelings away, so she picked the one thing that she knew would put a wedge between them.
It had to stop. Deep down inside, she knew that she was being just as self-destructive as she was in destroying Emma's chances at love. You stole her freedom with your deal to marry Snow's daughter and now, when there's real potential for happiness and love, you try to throw it away! She turned back to face her wife, fully intending to utter what might have been her first heart-felt 'I'm sorry' in decades, when a loud knock came at the door and Emma moved to answer it.
A panting servant stood at the door, his hand holding out a sealed envelope, which Queen Emma took with a strained 'thank you'. "It's my mother's seal," she muttered to herself as she broke the wax and wandered back across the room to read. She only needed to read the first two lines to lose all feeling in her legs and stumble back into her chair.
Regina was at her wife's side in the blink of an eye, all of their conflict temporarily forgotten. "Emma?"
"She… she's declaring war on us," the blonde stuttered in disbelief. Her eyes travelled further down the page. When she reached the second half, adrenaline shot through her veins and she jumped back up from her seat.
"Snow…? Snow White is declaring war?" Regina reached to pick up the letter that had slipped from the blonde's hand, while Emma started pacing the room, dragging her fingers through her hair. The brunette skipped the titles and began reading aloud.
"I, Snow White… blah blah blah… In response to the Evil Queen's latest insult to our good name… What insult?... do henceforth declare war on our long-time enemy… no quarter to be given until the Evil Queen sees fit to return to us our king, Charming…"
"What?" Regina froze and slowly met her wife's enraged gaze.
"Isn't it obvious? George has my father and he's pinning the kidnap on us… on you!" Emma cried, her voice a mixture of anger and despair. "Snow thinks you're the one who has my dad, so she's coming after you… after us!"
In the back of the sorceress' mind, a tiny thrill of joy sparked at the self-correction that Emma used to unite them as a team and not as single entities against the oncoming conflict. Something just didn't feel right about the whole thing to Regina though. While George could be involved – and he was certainly devious enough – she just couldn't picture him being so cunning as to make up the entire plan himself.
"Emma, I don't think…"
"I can't do nothing, Regina!" the blonde cried in desperation. Panic and rage warred for dominance behind green eyes as a fist came down hard against a desk. "At this point, I don't care if George is involved or not, his castle is being used as a prison to encourage Snow to declare war. I cannot let it stand!"
"You need to use your head…!" the sorceress tried again to interrupt.
"To hell with logic!" Emma yelled. She was still sore about what had happened in the village and the fact that her wife insisted on showcasing her superiority without consideration for Emma's position and self-esteem. She was also frustrated with the gap that kept widening when she thought that they were closing in on something wonderful. "Yours might be dead, but I'm going to use my heart for once!"
"Emma?... Emma…!" the dark queen yelled after her wife, every part of her wanting to give chase but knowing that is would be fruitless. The comment about her dead heart stung more than she wanted to admit and she sank into her chair as a foreign stinging pricked at the backs of her eyes. No, you are not going to cry! her inner voice insisted.
The promise of getting back to the congenial partnership of their early years of marriage was fading fast. Every time she thought that she and Emma had reached a place of understanding, the past rose up to bite her. Was this relationship doomed from the start? Would the shadows of Snow White and the Evil Queen forever darken their doorway? With these doubts playing on her mind, Regina went to find comfort with the one person who she knew would never reject her.
Henry was in bed this time when Regina entered her father's room. It seemed he spent more and more time there, lacking the strength to get out of bed even when he was awake and wanted to look at something other than the ceiling. As always, she was left alone to converse with the ailing man, though she couldn't help but notice the heightened tension in the eyes of the servant who hurried to the door in an effort to escape the queen's presence. She supposed he had reason to be cautious; she wasn't known for her healthy handling of pain and loss.
"Hi, Daddy," she greeted her father with her usual soft warmth. It was a side of her that she kept hidden from all others, reserved only for the man who, no matter his failings, had stood by her through every step of her painful journey.
"Mi Reinita," he murmured back. The more time that passed, the more often he reverted to the terms of endearment he'd used with her as a child. His 'little queen' – something she had refused to hear from him the moment her mother had forced her to marry the king. Hearing it now though was like a balm on an old, festering wound.
The sorceress gazed down on her father's sallow features and felt another stab of pain in her gut. She imagined how she would feel if Sir Henry was the one who had been smuggled, under the cover of darkness, into King George's dungeon. She remembered the lengths she'd gone to in order to save her father from her mother's clutches in Wonderland and knew that nothing short of death would keep her at home when someone she loved was in danger. Why did she keep expecting Emma to behave differently with her parents? She sighed and blood-shot eyes fell on her to try to find cause for her melancholy.
"What is on your mind, Regina?" he asked gently and reached out with a thin, clumsy arm to find her hand with his own.
"Daddy, I've made such a mess," she began mournfully. She didn't know which pain was worse anymore; the idea of losing her father or losing her wife. Knowing that at least one of those situations was of her own making and entirely preventable, she hated herself all over again. Slowly, she started to summarise everything that had come to light over the last few weeks and confessed in more detail the way she'd been treating Emma since the troubles began a year ago.
"Stop hiding, mija. Show her who you really are," the old man almost begged. These might well be his last few hours left in this world – he could feel it, and he wanted nothing more than to pass away knowing that his little girl was going to be happy. "It's time to let go of the past, Regina."
The queen nodded and took the advice to heart for once. She was fed up of letting her fear control the way she responded to her wife's attempts to get closer. She was fed up of seeing hurt behind those green eyes and hating herself for pushing the blonde away. She was fed up of still feeling so alone most of the time.
She stayed with her father until he eventually gave up trying to keep his eyes open and fell into a fitful sleep. She couldn't bear to sit with him and listen to his ragged breathing, the catch in his lungs reminding her with every pull of air that the next might be his last. Instead, she did what she was good at, she buried herself in work.
Part of her hadn't wanted to believe that Emma would actually leave the castle grounds on a rash quest to rescue a prisoner that might or might not be her father, but as the hour became late and there was no sign of the blonde returning, Regina ventured down to the stables to find Bracken in her stall but several other horses and all of Emma's personal guard gone. The lack of thought irritated her to no end, mostly because worry once again gripped her mind, but she couldn't help feeling a little admiration for the decisiveness of her wife's actions. As Abigail had already observed, her wife was truly noble.
"Idiot," she muttered to herself as she made her way back inside.
It was unlikely that the entire party would manage to reach their destination before morning, which meant that they would have to stop off in one of the villages overnight. Knowing Emma, she though that the blonde would be able to see past her anger and return home before she did something to undo their hard work. Somehow, despite her ingrained pessimism, she had faith in Emma to make the right decision.
It took a lot of effort to drag herself to bed that night. She'd cancelled the usual spread of food for supper and ordered anything that might be spoiled to be distributed amongst the night-watch, taking only the smallest of snacks for herself. After waking several times to the imaginary sound of hooves, Regina was dragged from a light slumber by the sound of knuckles knocking hesitantly at her door. Thinking that it might be Emma, she jumped out of bed, waved a hand over her body to dress in something more enticing and paused to take a breath before opening the door.
"Y-y-our majesty," a nervous maid stammered from the other side, filling the queen first with disappointment and then trepidation. "I'm so sorry…"
Regina felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. It took a moment for her to recognise the woman's face and put it together with the clinical pinafore she wore over her dress. "No…" she whispered and felt her knees weaken.
"There's nothing more we can do for him…" The maid trailed off at the look of utter devastation on the queen's face. She dug deep to find the courage to add the words that no one had wanted to say to the ex-Evil Queen. "It's time."
Regina had no recollection of dressing, leaving her room or making her way along the corridor and up a flight of stairs to her father's room. Time held no meaning in the moments that passed while she sat on the edge of Henry's bed and held his hand through his last few breaths. When he finally stilled and she collapsed onto his chest in a torrent of tears, she had no idea how long she lay there before arms pulled her up and she sank into them like the world was coming to an end.