"Pity for you that it doesn't work both ways."
Emma grins, although there is little humour in the expression, and her eyes are hard. The Queen seethes behind bars pitted with rust and age, but she knows better than to attempt obliterating them with magic and doesn't want to look a fool in front of the blonde. Instead, she hisses threateningly that the younger woman had better enjoy what limited time she has left of her good health, before letting out a surprised cry when she is forced gracelessly to her knees. Her eyes flash with pure confusion- the position so far from any she's prone to taking- before she pushes herself back up; shaking with rage. She throws her hands out with a snarl, but nothing happens.
"You see?"
The blonde asks in a curiously patient tone, and she shrugs when she is rewarded no response. The Queen stares at her; slowly understanding that she has fallen to the mercy of her own doing. As the younger woman had spat at her back in the garden, she'd had her dead to rights. She'd had her cornered and captured and under control. Somewhere along the line, she's made a terrible error, and she knows now that her mistake had been trusting that the younger woman lacked the necessary components to beat her. She'd been complacent. Drinking in the results of her flawed judgement, she finally understands that the decks have been reshuffled and that anything she might usually count on when facing the Saviour is currently off the table. The younger woman stands tall with her hands on her hips, svelte limbs clad in tight, forbidding textures of black that juxtapose jarringly with her hair.
Jarring, but it no way unattractive.
No. She's not entirely sure what Emma had been going for when she'd first let in the darkness back in Storybrooke, but it had given her great cause to laugh at the blonde's expense despite doing everything in her power- Regina's power- to help her. Now, she finds that she is unable to find much reason to laugh. There is nothing amusing in the darkness of the younger woman's makeup, nor the tight bind of soft leather, and the brunette swallows as one of her shared memories with the Mayor comes hazily to mind. It had been late one evening following her stint as a double agent; going between the Charmings and the women who had once shared her dark fancies. She'd been sat in the Station with Emma: she at the desk and the Sheriff sprawled lazily out on a cot in one of the cells. The cell door had been wide open and on the desk, there had been a bottle of wine recently rendered empty. The way the blonde had been lying had caused her sweater to ride up considerably, but Emma had seemed not to notice as she'd simply played idly with one of her long curls while smirking over towards her companion. The tone of their conversation had been how it often wound up when just the two of them; dangerously suggestive. She'd responded to the Sheriff's latest statement with a smile and amusing rebuttal, all the while trying to decide if the flesh on display was an accident or an offering.
All the while struggling, yet ultimately succeeding to toe the line.
They'd been discussing her long ago companions. Discussing the complete absurdity of their appearance and chosen way of portraying themselves. Emma's words had been tinged with that teasing lilt that sometimes made it hard not to accept glaringly obvious bait, and she'd snapped back irritably when thrown in with the others in the blonde's assessment of how preposterous some of the outfits worn by those in the book have been. She had responded coldly that she doubted the younger woman would fare any better given how she often chose to dress herself in their current world- cordially ignoring soft wool and tight denim riding low and high in all the right places- and the blonde had turned onto her side, propped up on her elbow, and grinned at her.
"I don't know about that, I reckon I could rock the evil look. And I wouldn't rely on weird hairstyles and random feathers and tassels to do it either; not mentioning any names. Your issue is you guys all looked to each other for advice and you all sucked at fashion. I mean really sucked. Think how much more interesting things might have been if the Evil Queen had watched the Underworld series... I'd certainly have been more for it."
"You forced me to endure one of those movies a while ago, and it was ridiculous."
"Sure, I know that. We're not talking about the storyline here though, Madame Mayor. We're talking how to make evil look good. Suit yourself if you prefer costume jewellery and velvet, but me? I'm going down the vampish leather route if I ever bat for the other team."
"... You surprise me, dear."
Regina had eventually scoffed sarcastically, feeling just as taken aback and flustered as the Queen does now.
She will allow the blonde one thing; she has a tendency to keep her word.
"So what's your plan? What's the meaning of this move?"
She demands angrily; hating this. Hating the complete role reversal from how this had all been planned in her head. Emma remains momentarily silent and leans back against the wall, her posture hatefully casual and confident. The Queen glowers at her accordingly, earning herself a smile.
"You know... You really fucked up earlier. What you did with the whole dress scenario this morning was pretty low, but pretending to be Regina and asking what you asked me? That was fucked up."
"Perhaps... Or perhaps see it as an act of kindness; pulling the truth from you to air it out and let it breathe."
The brunette suggests silkily, and green eyes narrow as Emma barks at her furiously
"It has no place out in the open!"
And she is aware in the silence that follows that she had actually meant to growl words of strict denial. Meeting the Queen's dark stare as she imagines the brunette is aware of this also, she raises her jaw; daring the darker woman to challenge her on it.
"Well, if I'm being honest, it wasn't out of any kindness... But the response was certainly delicious."
The Queen muses, relaxing a little as she stands with her fingers wrapped around the bars; still unhappy with her position in all of this, but understanding that she still has a little ammunition left in the face of the blonde's clear discomfort at her admission.
"Are you feeling guilty or ashamed?"
She pushes, watching the younger woman's expression intently as she goads her.
She guesses she's known Emma too long to find herself surprised when pale features offer her nothing to feast on; remaining carefully stoic.
Still, it's always so disappointing!
"Neither."
The blonde replies finally, pushing back with her own understanding of their situation.
"If I'd acted on it, then maybe I would have felt guilty, but as you said; I'm not always as flawless as the others like to think... Ashamed? I'm ashamed of the way I let you trick me like you did, but nothing more... Let's not forget that this is in no way a one-sided deal, Your Majesty. I admitted that I'm sometimes confused, which I would say is more irritatingthan it is shameful. I also know you feel the same way, if not more intensely. You say you wanted to use me to get to my mother, yet all of your games have had a suggestive undertone she would never have been let in on. Your threat was carnal and had nothing to do with what you claimed your plan entailed. I'm sure you found a great deal of enjoyment in making me uncomfortable, but I don't believe for a second that was the only thing getting you off."
"Don't flatter yourself."
"You said yourself, Regina-"
"-Regina let herself be ruled by the same idiotic constraints as you did and is irrelevant. To me, you were- are- a game. Yes, I played it with a goal in mind, else it was sure to become boring, but that's all. You can't win this, Saviour. You can't beat me at this. You remain unsettled by the truth so recently admitted, while I don't suffer that same affliction, as I have made abundantly clear."
"... Who says I'm unsettled?"
Emma challenges quietly, and dark brows furrow as the Queen searches for a way to respond.
"You...-"
"-I just told you; I feel no shame. What I feel is anger at you for the way you treated me. I feel angry at you for forcing me to say something that had no business being said. I have no qualms about acting on my feelings, I just resent being made to express them. I figured you might know that by now."
"I-"
"You're the one unsettled by this turn of events, not me."
"That's-"
"-I told you; I will always beat you."
"...That remains to be seen."
"If it helps you to pretend that's so, then be my guest. While on the topic though, you were reminding me up in the garden how being free of the responsibilities of Storybrooke I might like to play a little less by the book. Granted, I know you were simply trying to wind me up, but then you've always had such a penchant for being your own worst enemy. Now, back home, I tried where possible to be the bigger person and not seek revenge for revenge's sake. I was the Saviour, after all... Unfortunately for you, I'm not feeling quite so good-natured following recent events. And, as you said, before Henry came along, things were very different. If someone fucked me over, I'd bite back; I'd let them know that it wasn't a good idea to be doing that, and I wasn't constrained to ways my kid would approve of, either... You've had your fun over the last couple of days, but it ends now. Me taking that kind of shit from you ends now. If you were still Regina, I might leave it at that, but there isn't a single reason I can think of not take you up on your suggestion that I play the game. That I punish you."
"Punish me?"
The Queen scoffs, but inside she feels a flicker of doubt. The blonde's voice is raspy with anger, and she's taken a few steps forwards so that she stands just out of arms reach; her stance combative and proud.
"I told you I resented the way the Queen threw me down in the dungeons, just as you've done to so many others in this reality. You stripped me bare down there, and you laughed."
"Did I? Was there something I missed in the shower?"
"You laughed because I was begging you not to. I guess I should have known how futile that was and how it was only adding to your fun, but I knew you. I knew Regina, and it freaked me out, so I tried to appeal to some shred of decency in you for lack of any other option. You laughed at me. You laughed at me then, and you've been laughing at me since ambushing me in the graveyard. Do you know how much I hate that? It's one of the worst things you can do to a person; it's humiliating... I'll guess humiliation doesn't come around all too often for a Queen."
Emma muses dangerously, and dark eyes glitter back feverishly from behind enchanted bars; the brunette tense and alert as she senses the younger woman is about to play her hand.
Walking slowly up to the bars, the blonde folds her arms over her chest and orders quietly
"Strip."