A/N: Hey all. Still here, still have plans for our intrepid heroes. Unfortunately, work on my thesis over the summer - and this fall and winter and spring - has left me with little time or inclination to write (although if anyone wants to talk about British foreign investment companies circa 1890, I'm your boi.) As this condition is not likely to change, I want to thank you all for your lovely support for this and my other stories, and promise you that I will do the best I can to provide you with timely updates.
Regina stared at the stone ceiling as the morning sun made its slow way up the wall in an arc of light. It was her first morning as a married woman, and she didn't know how she felt about that. Certainly no more of a woman than she had the night before.
A maid quietly entered the room, laying a breakfast tray on the small bedside table and gathering the soiled bedclothes. Regina blushed lightly, wondering what the maid thought had happened last night. Was she wondering why the Prince hadn't stayed until morning? Did she think that Regina had failed somehow as a wife? Regina fought down the sudden urge to bury her head beneath the covers as she had done as a child.
"Your Highness?" Regina blinked, slowly remembering that she was a princess now. "The Prince requests they you join him at the stable. At your pleasure, of course."
Regina smiled at the thought of seeing Emmett again so soon. "Bring me my riding suit, please. The blue one." After the Prince's words last night she was hopeful that they might become friends soon, at least.
While Regina was being bathed and dressed, Emma had been busy. Truth be told, she was feeling a little guilty about the abrupt way she had left her new wife the night before and she was hoping she could make up for it in some small way. As soon as she had awoken this morning, she'd been thinking about what to do for the brunette and had finally settled on a picnic. A nice, safe, not even remotely romantic picnic.
And the way she'd tossed and turned all night, struggling to fall asleep, had nothing to do with the kiss they had shared yesterday.
Nothing at all.
Emma shifted uncomfortably, bouncing on the balls of her feet. What if Regina refused her invitation? What if she didn't want anything to do with Emma? Hell, what had Emma been thinking to just leave her alone like that? The brunette was probably cursing whatever horrible fate had decreed their marriage right this second.
See, Em, this is why you don't have any friends.
Emma was disturbed from her quickly spiraling paranoia by a soft hand on her shoulder. She jerked her eyes up to see the object of her thoughts smiling at her, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.
"Regina! Hi, um, good morning. At least, I hope it was a good morning, I know last night was a little crazy, but as mornings go, the weather's nice and-" Emma's brain finally caught up with her mouth and she took a breath, trying not to cringe at the way she'd been babbling. Idiot!
Thankfully Regina just seemed vaguely amused at Emma's ramblings, choosing to ignore the greater part of them. "It really is a lovely morning. May I ask what we're planning to do during it?"
Emma's eyes widened. "Oh! Of course! I, ah, I thought you might like to go on a picnic. We've been so busy with everything; I know I could use a little relaxation."
"That sounds lovely, my Prince."
The blonde's body, which had only just begun to unwind itself from the terrifying presence of Regina's hand, stiffened noticeably. Regina drew herself away uncertainly.
"Don't call me that." Emma's voice was sharp, cutting, a far cry from her earlier rambling.
"I-I'm sorry."
"No, look-" Emma ran an unsteady hand through her hair. "I told you I didn't want any titles between us, okay? It's Emmett, or Em, I guess."
"Very well." If her husband wanted them to be on a nickname basis, Regina sure wasn't going to argue.
"Em." It was kind of...cute really. Short and to the point, but with an undeniable brightness. It suited him.
"I'm sorry Regina; I really didn't mean to snap at you like that."
"Gina."
"What."
"You should call me Gina. If I'm supposed to be calling you Em, anyway." Regina's smile was softly teasing, Emma's bright and nervous.
"Okay, sure. Gina. Did, ah, someone give you that nickname?"
"Yes..."
"Who?"
"I did. Just now. For you."
Emma started. She had been preparing herself for a story about a childhood friend, perhaps an old crush. She'd been ready for the reminder of how lonely she herself was, with only a small child for company. Before she could dwell on the emotional change too long, however, her mind was quite effectively short-circuited by the shy, sweet smile Regina was directing at her.
"Well, it's only fair if you want me to call you something as silly as Em. When I vowed to give myself to you I didn't know that included childish names." The smile had widened into a teasing smirk, and Emma didn't know exactly what it said about her that she found it more enticing than the sweetness. Some kind of strange, masochistic fetish, probably. If she was going to have a fucked up sexual identity anyway she might as well go all the way.
Shit. Say something!
"Ah, yeah."
Brilliant. Did you want to try for two syllables next time? Emma wondered if it was possible to tell yourself to be quiet or if that was just further proof of not-quite-latent insanity.
"Are you ready to go?" See? A complete sentence. So there.
Great, did you want a cookie?
"Shut up." Emma murmured to herself, then blushed bright red when Regina looked at her strangely.
"Are you alright, Em?"
"Wha-? Oh, yeah, no, fine." Aaand she's back, ladies and gentlemen. Since discretion – and silence – was clearly the better part of valor here, Emma walked Regina to her horse and helped her into the saddle. Not that Regina needed it, but it gave Emma another chance to touch her wife and she'd be dammed if she was going to pass that up. Just the feel of a soft palm pressed against her own left her so hopped up on adrenalin that she nearly spooked her own mount.
Emma motioned for Regina to fall in beside her, urging her gelding into a canter that had nothing to do with furtive glances in the general direction of the other woman's torso. She consoled herself with the fact that there was at least some honest curiosity there – how exactly had the seamstress made a riding outfit that could sustain such movement and not suffocate the wearer?
She was so wrapped up in matters of garment stress resistance that she almost rode past the damn path. Luckily, her horse had no such distractions and, seeing the tree he often grazed underneath, tossed his head and snorted. Emma almost unseated herself, but managed to play it off. She hoped. Tying the horses to a low-hanging branch, she slung the saddlebags over her shoulder and offered her hand to Regina once more.
"This way."
Regina hid a smile as Emmett almost fell of his horse. She'd certainly noticed how his eyes had drifted to her body as they rode, and had purposely adjusted her position in response. She'd never been particularly aware of her body, except in a negative way, so this feeling was completely new. Rather than the possessive gazes she'd had to endure since her body began developing, her new husband seemed almost…afraid of her. She rather liked teasing him, liked the spike of power that thrilled her when his eyes snapped to hers guiltily.
Emma pushed a veil of heavy vines aside, ushering Regina through the opening created between the verdant, waxy leaves, dots of moisture shimmering like jewels on their surfaces and mottling the two women's clothes. Regina gasped softly. In the clearing before her a stood an apple tree in full bloom, pale pink blossoms that shuddered with every small breeze, many floating to land on the mirror-like surface of a small pond.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The voice and accompanying puff of warm air next to her ear startled Regina, but she suppressed her natural reaction for fear of interrupting the otherworldly tranquility of the scene before her. Emma unloaded the saddle bags at the base of the tree, spreading a tablecloth as evenly as she could over the grass and filling sturdy earthenware plates with piles of fruits, cheeses and breads. Noticing that Regina had yet to move, Emma glanced up at her worriedly. There was a look in the darker woman's eyes that she couldn't identify, and she immediately assumed the worst.
"It's okay, isn't it? I mean, if you want I could…" She trailed off. What could she do, exactly? Conjure a table and chairs from mid-air? Fine plates, perhaps? She hadn't even thought to bring utensils, dammit, sometimes she thought she'd been living as a man for so long that she'd forgotten that other women generally didn't like sitting on hard ground and what were those little shiny insects on the ground doing Regina was going to hate her forever now –
"Em."
Emma's mind cleared as Regina slipped down gracefully next to her, smoothing her fingers over her forehead. "Stop it. You're going to get wrinkles." Regina winked at her playfully and plucked a date from one of the plates before them.
"This is perfect. Thank you."
Emma's grin lit up her face. "This is nothing. Wait until you see my surprise."
"There's more? I may not survive."
With a flourish the blonde pulled two crystal glasses from a well-padded compartment and presented one to Regina. She opened a skein of wine with only a little fumbling, pouring the lush red liquid into both of the glasses.
"Well, what do you think?" Emma's smile had dimmed to a more contained level but she was certainly still very pleased with herself. Her confidence only lasted for a moment, though, fleeing her when she realized that Regina's beautiful face and ruby-red lips were rapidly approaching her own. Her fingers fluttered on the cool surface of the glass and she gulped reflexively, not quite able to pull herself away. However, just when she'd resigned herself to the fact that she was going to make a fool of herself and faint dead away, Regina bypassed her lips and whispered fluidly in her ear.
"I think we have company."
That got Emma's attention, and the tablecloth suffered the indignity of having half a glass of wine spilled on it as she whipped around to stare blankly behind her. Her sister was standing there in the clearing, accompanied by a soldier, looking so sweet and innocent that Emma immediately wondered if Snow had set the whole castle on fire and was only now trying to figure out how to break the news to her. If there was some horrible childish indiscretion to be repaired, however, Snow gave no indication as she gave Emma a swift hug and plopped herself down on the cloth, piling a plate high with the sweetest things within reach of her small hands.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but the Princess insisted that I take her to you immediately." Normally the guard would have maintained a very discrete, very safe distance from his newly-married Prince, but Emma knew exactly how demanding Snow could be when she put her mind to it and decided to let him off the hook this time.
"Don't worry about it. We're fine now." She said, clearly implying that he should get back to wherever his post was. Deciding that he looked a little too relieved at the dismissal, she put royal/guard relations aside for the moment and focused on her sister, who was animatedly telling Regina about the time Emma had gotten caught stealing fruit from the kitchens and their father had forced her to stay downstairs turning the spit all day to teach her a lesson.
Emma was definitely going to have to have a talk with Snow about boundaries and newlywed siblings.