Chapter 2 – The one where they first arrive on set.

"Nervous?"

"Of course not."

The first thing Emma notices when they arrive on set is that Regina closes up. Gone are the playful remarks and gentle smiles, replaced by a tight lipped frown and cool, dark brown eyes. She looks almost indifferent to the going ons around her, giving a curt 'thank you' to their driver before striding off after one of the Assistant Directors, digging her phone from her purse and tapping out a text message. They're on a studio lot for their first day and the AD leads them through the throng of people, occasionally pausing for a golf cart to zip by. They end up heading into the large building labeled 'Stage 4' where the production team gathers around a main desk, deep into conversation.

"Ms. Mills!" one man calls out, beaming as they approach. The rest of the team looks equally as pleased. "Good morning. We're so excited to get to work with you."

"Just Regina," she says, stilted, before smiling a little more genuinely. "Thank you. I'm looking forward to working with you all as well."

It's just a pilot episode, of course, and there's no guarantee that they'll get picked up for the full season, but excitement and optimism is the mood of the day, and rightfully so. There's nothing more fun than starting up a project this large, even if it only lasts for one pilot, at least in Emma's opinion. She's already admiring one of the stage sets across the building; some sort of magnificent throne room with a green screen backdrop.

"And this is—?" one voice says in her direction, pulling Emma's gaze back to the production team. Regina clears her throat.

"This is Emma Swan, my personal bodyguard. She'll be accompanying me on a daily basis."

"Oh." There are a few looks of confusion. One man quirks a brow, wondering why in the world a television actress needs a full-time bodyguard (a relatively new actress, no less), and though Regina is humble enough to know how ridiculous it sounds, she adds,

"My mother, Cora Mills, insisted."

The name seems to be all they need to know, because heads immediately bob and there are little murmurs of understanding and sympathy. Emma has only ever dealt with the 'talent' themselves, not their managers - certainly not their mothers - so she can't help but wonder exactly why the film and television industry seems to both recognize and dread Cora Mills.

"Well, Tina here will show you to your trailer, and she'll be the one calling first teams when we're ready to begin," one man says. "If there's anything you need at all, just let her know."

"Great. Thank you." Regina nods, then she and Emma are hurrying after the AD—Tina—again, through the lot and towards the massive parking lot where circus has been set up. Trailers are lined up in three neat rows, surrounded by tents and various trucks.

"Here's circus," Tina explains, leading them towards one of the frontmost trailers. "And here's your trailer, Ms. Mills. It's already fully stocked to your specifications, and my number is on the table if you need to reach me. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, this is fine. Thank you, Tina."

"Great. Makeup will be ready for you in a half hour, I'll come get you then." And then Tina is gone, rushing off to escort the next talent arriving on set. Emma sticks her hands into her back pockets as Regina swings open the trailer door and gives her a look.

"I'll just make a perimeter check first, get a feel for the area and see who else is around," Emma says with a tilt of her head. Regina's lip twitches.

"You know I'm not in danger in any way, Emma. There's no threat. You don't have to do the full bodyguard-security thing."

"It's my job," Emma offers with a shrug, smiling apologetically. She's already walking backwards and turning to go, so Regina rolls her eyes and heads into the trailer first. By the time Emma returns—satisfied that the area is secured and all is as it should be—she finds Regina laid out on a small leather couch with her earbuds in. The brunette lifts her head and tugs out the earbuds to greet her with a little nod.

"You should really lock your trailer door," Emma says, quirking a brow as she sits at the table and punches Tina's number into her own phone's contact list—just in case.

"I knew you were coming back shortly anyway. Did you secure the area? Scare off the bad guys?" The teasing glint in her dark eyes tells Emma that Regina's snark is said in jest.

"You're hilarious." Emma stretches her legs out straight and leans back against the wall of the stylish little trailer, casting her gaze around appreciatively. There's a mini fireplace at the end of the main area, and next to it, a narrow hall leading to what she presumes is a bathroom. There's a small kitchen zone, a leather couch by the other end that folds out into a bed, and a wide screen TV filling one wall, along with some generic little framed paintings adorning the other walls between each window. "Nice trailer."

Regina nods her agreement, getting up and moving to the mini fridge. "Water?"

"Sure, thanks." Emma accepts the offered bottle of mineral water and tucks her legs back under her chair as Regina moves around. "Do you have any habits I should know about?"

"Habits?"

"Yeah. Like warm ups, pre-show, hunkering, that kind of thing. If you need to be left alone during makeup, an hour of solitude before you're up, or time alone after you're wrapped, y'know?"

"Oh." Regina tilts her head, contemplative. "Well, I like to relax and run lines during makeup and wardrobe. Actually, if you don't mind running lines with me, that would be appreciated."

"Sure." Emma shrugs and nods. She's run lines for actors before, it's nothing new to her. Regina seems the type who prefers to be excessively prepared, anyway. "Got an extra copy of your sides?"

Regina snatches her tote bag from the other end of the couch and digs out her stack of sides, giving a clean one to Emma while she sets aside one covered in scribbles for herself. "As for when I'm wrapped, I generally don't need to hunker unless I've been filming a really intense scene. Mostly I just pack it in and go home as soon as I'm done."

"Gotcha." Emma scans over the sides she's been given. "You play Queen Reina, right?"

"Yes. Do you mind reading for all the characters she speaks with?"

"Not a problem."


Regina is always stunning, but in her regal diamond-encrusted dress, jeweled crown, and smokey makeup, she's absolutely breathtaking. Emma has to make an effort not to stare as she and the brunette are led from the makeup trailer to stage four, Tina chatting animatedly all the while. By the time they arrive on the throne room set, the place is already full of extras in costume, along with a handful of others who look like lead actors from the way their expensive white and red costumes stand out among the sea of earthy tones. Emma herself has worn a sleeveless black top and black jeans paired with knee high brown boots today, and now she blends in quite decently with the background people - just the way she likes it.

"Ms. Mills," Tina calls out softly, directing Regina to a row of traditional director's chairs where each star actor's name is printed neatly. Regina moves to sit in hers, but then stops quite abruptly, eyes on the rest of the chairs. Emma peers around her shoulder to see the lineup.

Regina Mills, M.M. Blanchard, David Nolan, Ruby Lucas, Graham Humbert, Adam Edwards.

The other names don't mean much to Emma - she's not the kind to really remember actor names unless she's personally worked for them - but the sudden stiffness in Regina's shoulders tells her that there's going to be drama ahead.

"Someone going to be a problem?" she asks in a lowered voice, hoping she won't have to intervene in any cat fights. Regina straightens up and clears her throat.

"No. No problem." She slides her chair a few inches further away from M.M. Blanchard's chair, then takes a seat and goes back to reviewing her lines. Emma follows Tina a few feet away before stopping the blonde.

"Who's M.M. Blanchard?" she asks, tilting her head in the direction of the crowd. The other leads seem to be happily mingling with the extras on set, chattering and laughing, oblivious to the quiet arrival of their star actress.

"Mary Margaret Blanchard? The shorter brunette," Tina answers, pointing out the woman in off-white leather armor. Emma squints and narrows her eyes. Mary Margaret looks like the pixie-haired brunette she'd seen at the hotel yesterday, with the same heart-shaped face and overly cheerful expression, except she seems to be wearing a long brown wig today. "The taller brunette is Ruby Lucas, the man in the red cloak is David Nolan, and Graham Humbert is the one in the fur cloak."

Emma hums in acknowledgement, committing faces and names to memory as she assesses the other lead actors. Her gaze flickers back to the unoccupied chairs. "What about Adam Edwards?"

"Err… Mr. Edwards hasn't arrived on set yet," Tina admits, brows furrowing. "I've got to go speak with the production team, actually." She hurries off, leaving Emma to stand quietly next to Regina's chair. The brunette absently gestures at M.M. Blanchard's chair.

"Feel free to take a seat, Emma."

"That's okay, I prefer standing," Emma replies, deciding against pointing out that it would be rude to sit in another actor's chair. Regina glances up, glares coolly in the direction of the other leads, then smooths out her expression when she turns back to Emma.

"Can you run lines with me again?"

"Sure."


"What the hell is delaying us?"

"Adam isn't here."

"What do you mean he isn't here?"

The production team's hushed argument is quickly becoming everyone's business as voices grow loud with frustration. The lead actors are still goofing around on set with the extras, though Regina and Emma have now turned around to glance back at the table where the production team stands huddled together. Tina ducks into the group, phone clutched in hand and a grimace on her face.

"He's not coming," she announces, to which the director growls and the producers respond with a few colorful words. The DP shakes his head and wanders off towards the crafty table, along with the few other key crew members who have absolutely nothing to do now until they're ready to film.

"I knew he was a shite actor," the main producer snaps, one gold tooth visible as he gives a toothy sneer. "Flakey and unreliable. I told you we should have casted August Booth instead."

"Well it's too late, Gold. Booth was snatched up by another show just last week," the executive producer - a narrow faced woman called Farah Blue - sighs impatiently. The 1st assistant director, of whom Emma overhead to be called Neal Cassidy, clears his throat.

"Let's give the role to Graham and have one of the extras take over his spot, then. It's just for the pilot. We can recast if we get picked up for the full season."

Blue leans in and lowers her voice. "Graham doesn't have the emotional range for that role and you know it. He'll botch it up, and we can't afford to risk a stilted performance. There's a reason we gave him the silent role."

"Fucking Adam Edwards and his bullshit," Gold snaps, still hung up on their no-show actor.

"Heck of a way to start the first day," Emma murmurs, quirking a brow at Regina. The brunette stifles a sigh and settles back in her chair, no longer interested in listening in to the production team's arguments.

"Indeed. Looks like we'll be waiting around a while longer. Can you run this scene with me again?" She flips through her sides and Emma does the same. They've gone over it enough times that Emma's pretty much got it memorized, so she positions herself in front of Regina's chair and holds the brunette's eye contact instead, giving a curt nod that she's ready. Regina motions for her to start the dialogue.

"What would you have me do, your Majesty?" Emma begins, dropping her voice into a serious, husky growl. She's run lines with actors so often that she feels comfortable enough using a 'voice' for the characters she reads for, giving the actor something more genuine to work with. Regina lifts her chin in response, regarding her with cool impassiveness.

"Send the huntsmen after them. They won't get far."

"But the King of Vanyel is expecting them. He'll suspect us if they don't arrive safely."

Regina stands - no, she glides out of her chair with the grace of a predator, closing the distance between them and spearing Emma with her ice-cold glare. In her costume heels, which are purposefully hidden beneath her floor-trailing dress to give her an added seven inches, she stands taller than Emma and easily sneers down her nose at her.

"Did I ask for your opinion, Kavalan?"

Emma knows she's supposed to drop her gaze and stare at the sliver of floor between them, but she finds herself trapped in Regina's smoldering eyes. Her voice, luckily, remains strong and steady. "No, your Majesty."

As if spurred on by what would be her character's anger at such a blatant display of disrespect, Regina leans in even closer, eyes alight with fire and her lips twisted into a cold, mocking smile. She is the opposite of the cold and frighteningly calm Queen Reina in the script, and yet they continue, both playing along with the improvisation. "Tell me again, warrior, why I keep you by my side?"

"To protect you with my life, your Majesty."

"You are my Guardian. My human shield. The warmth in my bed if I so choose. You are not my advisor, and I don't recall ever asking for your opinion. Try to speak your mind again and I will have you killed and replaced. Do I make myself clear?"

Emma pauses - there is indeed a 'beat' written into the script - then continues, quietly, a note of solemnity in her voice, "You and I both know there is no other who could protect you as I do."

Regina's jaw tightens, nostrils flaring. Slowly, so very slowly, she leans back out of Emma's personal space.

"Send the huntsmen," she says again, the command rolling thick and heavy off her tongue. Emma finally breaks eye contact, stiffly tilting her head down and bending ever so slightly at the waist in a shallow bow. Her next line is delivered with a grave kind of acquiescence, like she's resigning to a choice she has willingly, if not unhappily, made. Kavalan is a warrior who will stand by his Queen no matter what, even if he does not agree with her decisions.

"Then I will protect you from Vanyel's armies, or die trying."

Regina's head lowers so that she is no longer staring down her nose at Emma, her expression still cold, yet her lips twitch down in a grim frown. "Yes, you will," she says, her voice low with finality and something else, something almost regretful. Perhaps even mournful. They both go still for a moment, as this is the end of the scene where it's likely they'll cut to commercial, then Emma lifts her head and Regina's shoulders relax with a hesitant smile, both breaking character.

"You changed direction."

"Sorry. Your glare was terrifying, I couldn't look away," Emma chuckles.

"I quite liked that, actually. It felt more generic, playing up her anger instead of being cold and indifferent the whole time."

"You were great," Emma offers with a grin, which is an entirely genuine compliment because she's not one to fluff an actor's ego with lies. And then she notices someone staring at her from over Regina's shoulder. Turning her head, Emma finds the entire production team staring at them, and her stomach instantly drops. "Uh..."

"What?" Regina turns, too. Unlike Emma, she's not shocked by the sudden attention, but she does furrow her brow and direct her next question to the 1st assistant director, Neal. "What's going on?"

"I think we found a replacement Kavalan," says Neal, a shit-eating grin splitting his face. Gold and Blue immediately start talking over one another.

"But she's a woman!"

"You can't have a woman play Kavalan."

"She's not even an actor."

"They'll never pick us up for a full season if we bring in some last minute no-name."

"You may as well give the role to Graham like we discussed—"

"No, no, I like her," Neal interrupts, wagging a finger in Emma's direction. "They've got fire. Sparks. I like it. What do you think, Belle?"

Emma and Regina continue to stare, confused, as writer and director Belle French taps a finger on her chin and contemplates them from the other side of the production table.

"Neal's right," Belle says after a moment, blue eyes bright with her smile. "She's good. Her acting is solid and she would look great in armour, and those arms." There are titters of agreement, and Emma instinctively tightens her biceps under everyone's sudden examination of her bare arms. "This could work for the pilot. And we can always recast the role again if we get picked up for a full season."

"Belle," Gold begins, placatingly.

"Miss Swan, was it?" Belle calls out, her mind already spinning with ideas, too excited to hear her producer's weak pleas.

"Just Emma," Emma supplies, already dreading the direction of this conversation. She did not sign up to become a last minute actor. "Uh, listen—"

"It's just for the pilot," Belle says, bounding over with Neal on her heels. "We'll pay you, of course! You'd just do exactly what you two were doing. It would really save our asses."

Emma's mouth opens and closes, eyes flickering to gauge Regina's reaction. The last thing she needs is her own client getting upset with her for suddenly grabbing the spotlight like this. But Regina's staring back at her with this amused little smirk on her red lips, her brown eyes both encouraging and challenging, and Emma wonders what the hell she's gotten herself into.

"I only do what my boss wants me to do," Emma finally says, diplomatic, as she tilts her head in Regina's direction. The brunette's smirk just widens as Belle and Neal turn to her.

"In that case, Miss Swan, hurry along to makeup and costumes. Time's wasting."

Damn. She'd almost hoped to be spared. Emma exhales, giving Regina a dubious smile before being dragged off by Belle and Tina.

When Regina finally turns back around to retake her seat, she realizes the entire cast has been watching this exchange. The extras are excited and eager to go as always, while the other lead actors meet her gaze with curious expressions. Mary Margaret, who has finally recognized her at this point, offers up a shy smile and a little wave which Regina pointedly ignores, going back to reading her sides.