Chapter Five – The Secret and The Oath
The traveler stood back, her hand gripping tightly to the reins of her horse. The little boy had hopped off of the horse as they moved into the clearing, landing on his knees with his basket wobbling precariously as he scrambled to his feet and ran for the door to his house. The traveler didn't know this witch who was apparently his mother, didn't know her alliances or how she chose to use her magic. Distance was one of the few weapons one could possess against magic. Her sword was not spelled to protect her, and her horse was not tested in magical combat.
The wars the horse had seen had been bloody; she had been shielded by the pull at the pit of her stomach, drawn away from the battles to seek out the destination she still could never quite place. Her people thought her a coward and weak. Her father, from what the traveler could remember of him, had looked at her with kind eyes that hid the hurt of her absence so well. He had clasped her warmly on the shoulder and told her to be on her way. The traveler had to leave, the traveler could not linger.
This little house in this clearing full of children's toys possessed by a truly unique little boy gave her pause. She wanted to at least meet his mother. The rain had intensified to a steady beat against the thick wool of her cloak; slowly it was beginning to soak through. It was growing colder as the hidden sun set behind the mountains that surrounded the forest. Shadows were staring to grow long as the traveler led her horse warily across the clearing towards the door where the little boy lingered, chattering away happily to an unseen person.
"This is…" the little boy trailed off. He'd taken off his hat and his brown hair was sticking every which way now. His eyes shined in the light from the doorway, but they quickly dulled as a taller figure stepped into the light, peering out at the traveler as she held her horse steady.
The traveler inclined her head, telling the woman in the doorway her name.
"You helped my son," the woman in the doorway said. Her voice sounded tired, as if the effort of having a small child of maybe five or six summers was too much for her. The traveler watched her dark hair, contained in a plait down her back, glisten in the light. There was something familiar about the woman. The traveler could see the sadness in her eyes, and she wondered what had happened to this beautiful woman to make her that way. "Thank you."
The traveler inclined her head deferentially. She still did not trust a witch; her mother had brought her up to be wary of them. There had been an incident, when her mother was far younger, that had driven her mother to distrust magic users. The traveler had never asked after it, and her mother had never shared what had happened. There was an unspoken rule in her family to never discuss her mother's past. "It was the right thing to do," she said quietly.
The witch's eyes sparkled, "You must come inside, get dry." She stepped aside and gestured for the traveler to follower her into the house.
The traveler raised her eyebrows, fear curling around the base of her stomach. Witches kept their promises, her mother had said, always. "Is there a place for my horse?" she asked. She did not want to presume, but her horse was as wet and weary as she was. They both were in need of a dry place to sleep and recover from the distance they'd traveled together.
"Certainly," the witch said. Her fingers snapped and a deep purple cloak that seemed far richer than the simple house and the witch's dress should be able to afford. The witch slung it over her shoulders and pulled the hood up. "Follow me," she said, stepping out into the rain and pulling the door shut behind her.
The traveler's hand remained on her sword as she followed the witch. Her eyes were wide and cautious, her footing tentative. The grass in this clearing seemed unnaturally green and perfectly straight. It was unnerving. Her horse seemed very interested in it, head dipping downwards to mouth at it whenever the traveler relaxed her hands on the reigns enough to allow the motion.
"Did my son tell you we keep a horse?" the witch asked, her dark eyes turning to meet the traveler's. She had led them behind the house to a small building with a well-thatched roof. A slatted window cut into the wall revealed the hooded and curious eyes of a horse. The traveler surveyed the building, and turned to face the witch. Their eyes caught again and the traveler felt a lump grown in her throat. There was a sparkle in the witch's that drifted down to blood red lips – lips the traveler was finding it difficult to pull her eyes from.
Shaking her head, the traveler relinquished the reins of her mount. "I had wondered," she allowed, watching as the witch quickly and efficiently maneuvered her mount into a stall and began to remove his tack with the practiced ease of one long-accustomed to grooms work. The traveler moved to remove her saddle bags, slinging them over her shoulder and wincing as the wet leather soaked clean through her jacket and tunic to press, cold and clammy, against her skin. "He seems very comfortable riding."
"He's getting there," the witch lamented, her tone was that of a mother not entirely satisfied by her child's progress. The traveler knew that tone very well; it was a mainstay on her mother's lips. "Brushes are in that bucket," the witch pointed towards a bucket on the far wall.
"You're very kind," The traveler said, feeling the eyes of both the witch and the witch's mount – a huge black horse of indeterminate origins – on her as she moved through the small stable. She was beginning to feel more at ease around this woman, and her kindness was exceptional. The traveler was willing to wager that her offer would be refused, but the rules of chivalry had to be obeyed at all costs, "I can pay you-"
The witch shook her head, eyes flashing dangerously. "There is no need. You showed my son a kindness when many would not."
"And why is that?" The traveler asked.
"Because I am the witch who was once the queen," the witch explained, watching with mild surprise as the bucket full of brushes fell to the ground out of the traveler's shaking hand.
Emma awoke to a bright light shining into her eyes and Doctor Whale's face disturbingly close to her own. Raising a hand against the light, Emma attempted to pull herself backwards and away from him. Her face twisted downwards into a grimace of pain and she pressed herself further back into wherever it was she was lying, trying to escape his inquisitive gaze.
"Ah, you're back," Dr. Whale said cheerfully. He tucked his eye light death ray back into his pocket made a note on a clip board resting on the bed next to Emma's shoulder. "You took quite a nasty blow to the head, Deputy."
Emma raised her hand to touch her head, gingerly feeling at the raised welt on the back of her head and the bandage wrapped tightly and itching on her forehead. "What happened?" she asked, squinting and peering around. Over in the corner of the room, she could see Henry curled up and asleep, a suit jacket draped over him. Outside the door, the unmistakable dark hair and feminine form of Regina Mills could be seen, apparently talking on the phone.
"There was a rabid dog," Dr. Whale explained, gesturing to a second Band-Aid, high on Emma's shoulder. It explained why her entire arm felt numb, and Emma let her head fall back onto the pillow. "It was in the parking lot when you and Mayor were there; it chased you both into the woods." Dr. Whale gave Emma and appraising look, eyes shining with something that Emma's head hurt too much to place. "You're quite the hero."
It hadn't been a dog, Emma thought darkly. Her head felt like mush. She couldn't focus on Dr. Whale, or her thoughts, or anything. "What-" she began, again feeling the lump on her head. She hadn't felt like this in years, since before she'd left the last home she'd been put in. It felt like the reason she'd left all over again.
"You're concussed," Dr. Whale explained. "Pretty bad one at that," he flipped her chart over. "As you have no family in town, and Mayor Mills brought you in, she's been acting as your medical proxy."
Emma's eyes widened, which caused the pounding in her head to increase. She frowned and struggled to sit up. "Did she have you do anything?"
"Really, Ms. Swan," Regina's voice came cold across the room. "I would hardly involve the good doctor in my diabolical plan of getting you medical attention for a head wound."
If her head didn't hurt so much, Emma might have rolled her eyes. Might being the key word there, because she seriously felt like she was going to pass out again. Her eyes felt heavy and Doctor Whale leaned in and pulled out his stupidly bright light again. He checked her pupils and Emma wanted to scratch his eyes out. It hurt when he did that. Everything hurt. Why couldn't she just go back to sleep and figure out what was going on in her dream?
"Do I have to stay here?" Emma asked tiredly. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open.
The Mayor's hand closed around her own, fingers uncomfortably warm. Regina had a Band-Aid on her cheek and a bandage wrapped around her thumb. Emma remembered what had happened then, what Regina had said to her as she drew strange designs across Emma's face in blood. She glanced down at their joined hands and Regina pulled her hand away hurriedly. "It is probably for the best," she explained with a pointed look at Doctor Whale. He took the hint and hurried out of the room.
"Did you kill someone's dog?" Emma asked as the door closed behind the doctor. Her head ached but she remembered the beast, remembered killing the beast that had come out of that ash. She could feel it's eyes on her even now and terror gripped her deep in her belly. That had not been of this world, she knew it now.
Regina bent, her eyes were dark and impossibly close to Emma's own. There was a maelstrom of emotion hidden in them and Emma wanted to know what was even real in the past days and weeks she'd been in Storybrooke. Had Henry been right about the curse all along?
Fingers curled back around Emma's hand and she felt one tentative and encouraging squeeze before the Mayor answered. "Honestly, Deputy, what sort of a person do you think I am?"
"Right now," Emma said, concentrating very hard on each word, "I don't really know."
"Storybrooke has strays, and not every dog is immunized in this town. It was unfortunate, but it happened," Regina explained simply. Her grip grew tighter. "Because that is what happened, Ms. Swan."
Emma's lower lip jutted out and she would have scowled but the effort it took to pull her face down into such an expression. She settled on a frown and turned a contemplative gaze towards the Mayor. "If that's what you want to tell people, then sure." Her eyes narrowed and she added, "But we will be discussing this."
Slowly, an almost predatory smile spread across Regina's face and she dropped Emma's hand onto the bed and moved towards Henry's sleeping form. "Indeed," she said quietly, picking up her jacket and shrugging it on before gently shaking Henry awake. "We shall, Ms. Swan."
Emma watched as Henry tiredly wrapped his arms around his mother's neck and smiled as he turned a half-awake gaze towards her as she lifted him up. "Hey kid," she said quietly.
"Hi," Henry replied, adjusting his head to rest comfortably on Regina's shoulder. He gave a half-hearted wave before his eyes fluttered closed once more. Emma watched with a fond smile that really shouldn't have been on her face as Regina maneuvered through the room with the ease of one long-accustomed to hauling tired little boys around in her arms.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" Emma asked, feeling sleep attempt to claim her once more.
Regina paused, her hand on the door and her shoulders ramrod straight. "I called Ms. Blanchard. She took your car back to her apartment. She'll pick you up in the morning." There was a smile on her lips as she added. "Graham has taken you off active duty for the rest of the week. Come see me in the afternoon – don't drive."
"Yes'm," Emma muttered sleepily.
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Mary Margaret came to pick Emma up the following afternoon after school. The clock had hit three and Emma was beginning to wonder if she'd actually be allowed to leave that afternoon. Her head was feeling far clearer today than yesterday. She was dog tired, the nurses had woken her up faithfully every hour to give her fluids and check her vitals. She was surprisingly resilient, according to Doctor Whale, so he was releasing her into Mary Margaret's care with little worry that she'd be back.
"You look awful," Mary Margaret commented as Emma laced up her boot and surveyed her jacket. There was a large tear through the back, where that thing had nearly ripped her clean in two with its claws. "Must have been some dog."
Nodding wearily, Emma said, "Yeah, total monster of a thing." She tried to keep her expression hardened, but emotionless. Mary Margaret had a knack for reading Emma's body language and discerning what was actually going on in the thoughts Emma struggled to keep hidden. She shrugged on the jacket, ignoring the tear at the back. Maybe she could as Mary Margaret to fix it – she had no skill with a needle. "'m Glad that my jacket took the worst of it."
"I'll say," Mary Margaret gave a little giggle and lead the way out of the room. Emma stopped at the nurses' station to sign her discharge papers and to grin stupidly at the tired-looking woman who was shuffling papers around. She'd been there all night; Emma was acutely familiar with her face after the three o'clock wake up when she'd nearly clocked the woman.
As they walked out to Mary Margaret's beat up old Jeep, Mary Margaret gave Emma's jacket an appraising look. "You should get that fixed," she commented, gesturing to the large tear across the back of it. "I don't know if I can fix it, but we have a cobbler in town that's pretty good with leather. His name's Eli, have you met him?"
Of course there was a cobbler in this tiny ass Podunk town, Emma thought darkly, getting into the car. There was a story about it in Henry's book – she was sure of that. "I'll look into it," she said, trying to stop the conversation before it started. Her mind was elsewhere and she had no energy for Mary Margaret's happy ramblings about Eli the man who fixed shoes.
It took Emma almost twenty minutes once they arrived home to convince Mary Margaret that she was okay to leave the apartment. Mary Margaret wanted her to go straight to bed and actually get a decent night's sleep after the night that she had had, but Emma knew that if she did not catch Regina in the approved moment that what little explanation she was going to get would turn to dust. "I told Henry I'd see him," she explained, changing into a clean jacket and jeans. She wore sneakers because her boots were too much effort and sweatshirt that Emma was pretty dated back to her birth year.
Mary Margaret looked disapprovingly into her cocoa and shrugged, "Call me if you need a ride later."
They stared at each other across the kitchen island, Emma raised an awkward hand to the bandage on her head. The stitches there itched and she knew she couldn't scratch them. Mary Margaret scowled and turned away, "Don't scratch at it."
"Trying not to," Emma said good naturedly. She took her keys from the counter and waved her hand in response as Mary Margaret turned around and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She wouldn't pick the scab and make the wound worse - the last thing she wanted were more scars. "I will call - if I need a ride," she lied. She would not be calling and Mary Margaret hopefully wasn't fool enough to think that she would.
The Mayor's office was mostly abandoned as Emma slipped in through the back entrance and headed up the stairs to Regina's office. Her secretary was sitting at her desk, stony-faced and disapproving as Emma gestured towards the door. "Go in," the woman said with a sniff. "She's been waiting."
Regina was sitting on the couch in her office, coffee mug in her hand as she read through an impossibly thick-looking report. She barely even glanced up as Emma let herself into the room and closed the door behind her. "Take a seat, Emma," she said over the rim of her mug. Emma perched gingerly on the edge of a stiff-backed chair set across from the couch and watched as Regina pulled a highlighter out of the pile of papers in her lip and highlighted a line. She set the highlighter back down with a practiced ease and unearthed a pen, making a note next to the place she'd highlighted.
"Sorry to run a little late, Mary Margaret didn't want me to leave," Emma explained as Regina set a sticky note to the side of the page she was reading and closed the report. She pushed the entire pile of papers, report on top, into a neat stack and set them to her side.
"I imagine that Ms. Blanchard would feel rather protective, after such an incident," Regina mused, sipping her coffee. Her expression was unreadable, but Emma didn't see any deceit in it. "I do not normally tolerate tardiness, but I didn't give you a time to be here, so it is to be expected that your arrival time would not be when I expected you to arrive."
Emma raised a hand to scratch at the back of her head. Such circuitous language was enough to make her head feel like it had yesterday. "I won't have this conversation with you if you're gonna talk in riddles," she said shortly. She didn't want to sound testy, because she knew how quick Regina was to anger. She couldn't follow talking in circles today, her head was still recovering - it hurt too much to use that much of her brain.
Regina set her mug down and bridged her fingers across her lap, eyes rising to meet Emma's across the low coffee table between them. "Then let us be frank with each other, Ms. Swan." Upon Emma's stiff and somewhat jerky nod, Regina continued. "I cannot have you tell anyone about what actually happened in the woods yesterday."
Her head tilted forward and Emma squared her feet on the ground, hands pressed together and she leaned forward. Her elbows dug into her knees as she looked up at Regina through her bangs. The whole situation was unbelievable that Emma wasn't really sure who she'd go about telling. Henry would believe her in a heartbeat, but Emma did not want to tell him. To tell him would be to ruin his relationship with Regina forever. The kid believed too fully to ever understand. "I pulled a sword out of your chest and killed a giant wolf-thing with it, who's going to believe that?"
"Henry, for one," Regina said curtly. She sat back on the couch and stared at Emma's pensive expression – her own was entirely unreadable. "What happened was a mistake – one born of necessity."
Emma inclined her head to her left. "How do you mean?"
Regina picked up her coffee mug and blew on it gently. Emma's mind flashed back to the dream she'd had the previous night, those impossibly red and tempting lips tempting her even then. "I needed a knight, you happened to be there."
Realization dawned on Emma so quickly that she felt her mind grow almost numb with the weight of it crashing down around her. She sat up, back suddenly ramrod straight, and stared at Regina. The woman's eyes were narrowed and her lips were quirking up wards into an expression of unbelievable smugness.
Something felt sour in Emma's stomach as she struggled to get the words that would confirm that Henry was either a savant, or more observant than a ten year old should ever be. "Then everything that Henry's said… it's true?"
Regina glanced down at her nails and shrugged. "To the extent that Henry is capable of understanding it, yes, it is." She was so nonchalant about the whole thing, sitting there with her coffee cup and her raised eyebrow, as if daring Emma to actually give in to her inclination to freak the fuck out. She was tempted to, because seriously what the fuck? This whole situation was so damn messed up that she could barely wrap hear head around it on a good day – and now here she was with probably a bad case of post-concussion syndrome on top of it.
Her hands struggled to find purchase, eventually dripping down to grab her knees as Emma rocked backwards in her chair. The front two legs of it lifted off the ground once, before falling back down to the floor with a thud. "That would make you…" Emma stared at Regina. "You're a queen." She looked away and added in an undertone. "An evil queen."
There was that smug, shit-eating grin again. "And you are now my knight," Regina almost purred out the words as she rose from her place on the couch, smoothing her dress downwards as she did so. Her heels clicked on the floor as she moved to stand directly behind Emma. Her hands came down to rest on Emma's shoulders and Emma almost winced as Regina bent low to whisper in her ear. "I take the hearts of my knights as an oath of loyalty, Ms. Swan. Feel lucky there is no magic in this world."
Emma bit her lip and stared resolutely at Regina's coffee cup on the table. She wasn't going to rise to the bait that was being dangled before her, despite that being Regina's very obvious wish. Emma struggled to ignore the hot breath on her cheek. "Henry thinks I'm the white knight in his story," the words tumbled out of her mouth before she had time to think about them, time to examine how they might affect her next move. She had to counter Regina as best she could, and this was her ace in the hole, so to speak. She was telling all of her secrets – but then, Emma supposed that Regina was doing that as well.
The secret was so damn unbelievable that Emma wasn't sure that she could actually take it seriously. Had she not fought off a – "What was that thing, from yesterday?" she asked suddenly, turning to look up at Regina as the woman had moved away from her into middle of her office. Her arms were wrapped around herself and Emma frowned.
"It was a dire wolf – a demon created to seek out those who steal hearts," Regina sounded preoccupied, distracted by something else as she stared at Emma. "I had thought it dead…"
"Apparently not, if Gold had it in a bottle," Emma added, getting to her feet. She moved to stand in front of Regina, resting a hand on her upper arm. "Look, knight or no, that was a legitimate attempt on your life, Madame Mayor."
It didn't appear that Regina was listening. She didn't shy away from Emma's touch and almost swayed under it. Emma took half a step forward, her hands touching Regina on both sides now, steadying the woman on her feet. "You're the white knight," Regina repeated what she'd said earlier with a distant look on her face. She met Emma's curious gaze and smiled again, this one as predatory and closed-off as ever. "Oh that is just wonderful, Ms. Swan."
"How so?" Emma asked.
Regina shrugged, eyes sparking dangerously as she stepped away from Emma's hands. "It appears that you have been mine for far longer than I had initially thought."
And what, exactly, Emma thought darkly as she folded her arms across her chest. Is that supposed to mean?
Regina bent to pick up her briefcase and had her mouth open to say something when the door burst open and Henry came running in – cheeks rosy from the autumn day outside. "Mom!" he said excitedly as he hurried over to her. It wasn't until he was half-way across the room that he noticed Emma. "Emma!" he changed direction mid step and nearly face-planted himself into Emma's stomach as he hugged her. "I'm glad you're okay."
Emma glanced at Regina and saw the pained expression on the other woman's face. She let her hand drop down to rest on the top of Henry's head protectively as she turned him in his mother's direction. "Me too kid," she said quickly – trying to preemptively get around the murderous look that was now settling over Regina's features. "Go see your mom, though. I was just leaving."
Henry shot Emma a betrayed look but went over and gave his mom a hug grudgingly. He pulled out an envelope from his backpack after lingering just long enough to appear appropriate in Regina's embrace. "Ms. Blanchard sent us home with permission slips. There's an orchard up the road from Mr. McCloud's farm, we're going to go as a class and pick apples! Can you sign it?"
The permission slip was printed on the cheap muted green paper that schools tended to favor. Regina scanned it quickly with a disinterested look on her face as Emma moved towards the door. She didn't want to linger and get caught between mother and son. They were already stuck in a battle of wills.
She couldn't draw Henry any further away from his mother than he had already taken himself. She refused to play a part in that game.
The urge to run cut deep into Emma's gut, just thinking about the demon - dire wolf - that she had killed. Monsters like that did not belong in this world, and for one to have been contained in a jar - one that Regina thought dead meant that more was coming. Emma knew that she had to get while the getting was good. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with this.
Belief made things true - that was the point of everything Emma had ever learned from Disney, from fairy tales.
Wrapped up in her thoughts, Emma reached for the door handle. Her fingers closed around warm metal and Emma dared venture one last fleeting glance over her shoulder.
Regina had signed Henry's permission slip and was folding it neatly and tucking it into an envelope. Henry was watching them both with curious and wary eyes. "Ms. Swan," Regina said, folding the envelope closed and handing it to Henry. "Would you-"
Henry turned alarmed eyes towards his mother, his mouth dropping open in a very poorly hidden expression of disbelief.
Apparently Henry's shock had not gone unnoticed as Regina turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "Close your mouth," she said shortly. "You're not a codfish."
Emma covered her mouth with her hand as she attempted to bite back a snort of laughter. "Would I what?" she asked, giving a little cough to cover up the grin that she couldn't quite get off her face. Henry had just gotten completely owned by his mother - with a Mary Poppins quote to boot! She realized it was the gravity of the conversation that she and Regina had had before Henry had arrived that was driving her to find this so funny and she struggled to keep her face straight.
Regina picked up her briefcase and crossed to the couch. She scooped the papers that she'd been looking at before Emma had come in to see her and tucked them into the black case. "Would you like to get dinner with us?" She gave Emma an appraising look, as if she was trying to figure out if such an offer was even a reasonable thing to make.
"Sure," Emma said with a shrug, she hadn't made plans with Mary Margaret. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled until she found Mary Margaret's number. She typed out a text with deliberate precision as Regina moved the office and gathered the work she was bringing home.
I think Regina feels guilty, she typed to Mary Margaret. She's offered me dinner as a peace offering and you know how I am about free food. The thought of the times when she'd been hungry, cold and alone still stood out in her mind. They were formative moments, ones that she could never truly forget.
Emma was still just barely getting to know Mary Margaret. Emma found the school teacher easy to talk to. In some of the evenings when Mary Margaret was correcting spelling tests, Emma had shared some sparse details about her life up until the point she'd arrived in Storybrooke.
Be home before midnight, came Mary Margaret's reply as Emma watched Regina pull on her jacket and bend to make sure that Henry's coat was properly buttoned. I can't wait up for you on a school night.
Emma was half-way through texting, 'what are you, my mother' when the pieces finally fell together and she deleted the text. She simply replied, I'll try. Henry had told her that she wasn't ready to hear his theories about her parentage and its connection to the curse. Not long after she'd come to Storybrooke, he'd presented her with pages that he'd torn from the back of his storybook – pages with details that shook Emma to the core now, recalling them.
She hadn't been ready, and she didn't think she ever would be.
"Henry," Regina said, handing him the keys to her car. "You're leading the way today."
Henry took the keys with nod and gave Emma a concerned look before scampering off down the hallway towards the stairs and the door outside.
"Mary Margaret is my mother," Emma said dumbly. She turned to look at Regina. "Isn't she?"
Regina adjusted her briefcase on her shoulder and walked towards door. "I did say that she'd be unnecessarily fussy over you, didn't I?"
"I can't do this," Emma said, shoving her hands into her pockets so as to not punch something. She couldn't do this' she couldn't actually have parents - not after all these years. It was too cruel a fate.
If Henry was right about the curse, and all signs on that front were pointing to yes, then she really did have parents. Parents that sent her away to fend for herself for twenty eight goddamn years. If Henry's book's missing pages were to be believed, it was for her own good – but what parent banishes their child to nothingness like that? Even for good reason, Emma could never have made such a choice.
"Unfortunately, Ms. Swan," Regina said, pulling the door shut behind them both. "It is the grim reality of this situation." She glanced over her shoulder and added, "You did read the book, right?"
Shaking her head to the negative, Emma forced her feet to move forward once again. "No," she said quietly. She had never put much stock in fairy tales because happy endings were entirely too unrealistic for a kid who was raised on a healthy diet of harsh reality. "I never believed in fairy tales."
Before now.
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Granny's diner was fairly empty for a weeknight, but it was still fairly early in the evening. The clock over the library had just clicked past six fifteen when they'd pulled up to a spot mercifully a little walking distance away from the diner's entrance. Emma allowed herself to be led by Henry to a booth on the far side of the restaurant as Regina paused to speak to someone that Emma didn't recognize outside the diner.
"Just you two today?" Ruby asked, trotting over with a water pitcher. Emma thought she looked remarkably perky considering she'd probably been working all day. "Hi Henry."
"Hi Ruby," he said with a smile, sliding into the booth.
Emma shook her head and jerked her head towards the window. Ruby followed her gaze with narrowed eyes, before her eyebrows climbed up her forehead so quickly that Emma wondered if she was legitimately shocked.
"Should I be preparing for the end of days?" Ruby asked, turning to get a third glass from behind the counter.
Emma knew her laugh was more than a little nervous as she sat down next to Henry. "Budge up, kid," she said as he scooted over to make room for her.
"I'm being totally serious here, Emma," Ruby said, returning with the third glass. She filled them with practiced precision and eyed Regina through the window. "Should I be worried?"
It was Henry who answered for her. "Emma is gathering intel," he explained matter-of-factly. He leaned forward and whispered to Ruby, "On my mom."
Ruby glanced at Emma, who was practically begging Ruby to just go with it with her eyes. Ruby gave the tiniest of smiles before announcing, "Your funeral, she muttered, before disappearing into the kitchen.
"Henry," Emma said quickly, turning to him to tell him to just cool it with the Evil Queen shit for the time being. She was having a hard enough time processing everything without him antagonizing his mother on top of it. "You need to not do that."
"Why?" Henry asked, expression curious. "My mom's the evil queen, the only reason you've been spending time with her is because of Operation Cobra, right?"
Oh kid, if only you knew.
"In your book," Emma asked quietly. She knew it was probably not smart to change the subject just yet, but she had to try. Henry needed to be thinking about something other than his mother being the Evil Queen for the time being, if they were to make it through this dinner without any fireworks. "Is there anything about dire wolves?"
Henry nodded enthusiastically. "Yup. Rumplestiltskin gives one to people who are allied with Snow White because the Queen steals hearts - it doesn't help them though. The Queen killed it and trapped it in ash."
Her eyes narrowed, the beast had come from ash. She didn't want to say anything to Henry yet, but she had a sinking suspicion she knew exactly who Mr. Gold really was and the thought terrified her. She had read that story, at least. It had been a favorite of one of her foster brother's – the story of the evil imp who tricked everyone out of everything they held dear. "Could I borrow your book - just for the night?"
"It's at home." Henry scowled. "I hid it so my mom wouldn't take it away."
"Smart kid," Emma said, ruffling his hair.
The bell jingled at the door and Regina stepped in, striding purposefully across the room as though she owned the place. Ruby poked her head out of the kitchen and called in a deceptively cheerful voice, "Will be right with you, Madame Mayor!"
The dinner, as it turned out, was rather unremarkable. Emma told Henry a few vague details about the 'dog' attack and she learned far more about youth soccer and what exactly kids in fifth grade were into these days. Regina was mostly quiet, her expression one that Emma read to be pensive, but it could have been any number of things, hidden behind a near perfect neutral expression. Emma knew Regina was watching her as she ate her club sandwich, the constant pressure of eyes on her made her nervous. She tried her best to ignore it, showing Henry how she liked to mix ketchup and mustard together to go on her fries.
"He's been doing that for years," Regina commented later, as they walked out together. Emma had tried to pay for her sandwich but had her crumpled ten dollar bill waved off by Regina. She would not take it no matter how much Emma insisted.
Emma exhaled, watching as her breath fogged before her eyes. "Really?" She grinned. "Thought it was just a me thing, you know – like cinnamon in my cocoa."
Regina's back stiffened and she shook her head slowly once, shoulders drawn into a tight line. Henry was sitting in the car already, his breath creating interesting patters on the car window as he watched them with curious eyes. "I think you'll find, Ms. Swan, that you're not as unique as you think, here in Storybrooke."
"Why is that?" Emma asked, arms half-folded around herself as she watched a car drive by. "Is it because of Henry's curse?"
"We will not discuss this here," Regina said shortly. She reached down, hand pulling at Emma's elbow. Her eyes were almost pleading as she gently pulled Emma in the direction of the car. "Come with me?"
Emma wanted to say no. She wanted to turn on her heel and walk back to Mary Margaret's apartment and forget that today ever happened. Everything was so overwhelming and her head was killing her. Going with Regina meant more time with Henry, and Emma didn't think that she could handle that right now. Her mind was on edge as it was, and Henry's constant babble was making her antsier than ever.
The pull wasn't there though. The need to run, to leave right as things got hard. It was like her dream – maybe she'd found a place worth staying. She was settling here, she knew it. Maybe Regina did need her to come along, just for a little while longer.
"I won't stay long," Emma said shortly, falling into step beside Regina.
Regina looked at her sideways, "I wasn't asking you to."
Henry got her the book as soon as they'd arrived at the Mayor's house. Emma set it to the side, figuring that its presence would only serve to further annoy Regina – and Emma was starting to get the sense that the woman was on thin ice as it was. Emma had seen the way that her body language had changed from open and almost welcoming of Emma's presence over dinner to one that made her feel almost as though she had overstayed her welcome. She knew that she'd been invited, but as Regina sent Emma into her study as she got Henry up in his room and going on his homework, Emma felt unwanted.
"He'll be busy for a few minutes," Regina said a few minutes later, pulling the thick door closed behind her and turning the lock once again. "I need you to promise me that you will not tell him, not yet."
Emma ran a hand through her hair, the leather of her jacket creaking as she raised her arm. "I can't lie to him," she said quietly. She said it because Henry was like her; he was good at reading people – even better at pulling the truth out of people. It was damn hard to convincingly lie to him as it was. To lie about something so huge was mind-boggling.
The Mayor's eyes were hard. She took a step forward, into Emma's personal space and lingered there, far too close for comfort. Emma swallowed as Regina's eyes swept up and down her. "You're a bit scrawny, for one of my knights." She said eventually.
"You don't own me," Emma retorted, taking half a step backwards. "This whole thing is a goddamn lie."
"There is truth in all lies, Ms. Swan," Regina's lips curled, a sneer gracing her features. Emma breath caught and she felt the urge, the need to obey – to protect – to be the knight Henry though her to be. She swallowed as Regina leaned in close, eyes narrowed dangerously. "You will see, you are mine."
"I am not your pet," Emma ground out, jaw clenching as Regina's fingers curled touching her cheeks, her jaw. "I will protect you, Henry, this town. Do not expect to own me, majesty."
"Oh dear, you're going to find that I already do."
db
A lesson in loyalty and futility.
The demon that was sent to kill the queen failed because a simple knight of indeterminate origins gave his life to protect his queen. His sacrifice allowed the queen the time she needed to cast the spell that would trap the creature in stasis forever. She turned the man's body into a jar, an ornate one that she'd fashioned out of her own imagination and honored her fallen champion as best she could. The man had had no family when he'd come to her offering loyalty, and she'd taken his sacrifice to heart.
You see, the queen felt the pain of what this man had done for her far more acutely than her normal heartless demeanor would allow. He had been given her favor for the briefest of moments and the pain that she felt upon his death was entirely of her own creation. Her own heart had been removed so long ago that her mind scarcely remembered what pain felt like, but his loss cut her deeply.
In that moment, the queen vowed never to bestow favor on one so weak again. Her favor would be reserved for her champion, a being as of yet unknown to her. She would bide her time until then, and when she commanded such a being – she would strike fear into the hearts of all the land.
After all, Snow had her champion, why shouldn't she?
Somehow, this seems like a set up.
Wouldn't you like to know.
First of all, THANK YOU EVERYONE! You guys have been absolutely amazing with your reviews and your follows and everything else that you've been up to! It's been utterly amazing to read some of the comments that you guys have left on this story. I'm so glad that you all like the direction that I'm taking this.
This chapter was more a developing chapter - I'm trying to move slowly towards a Swan Queen endgame, but I don't want to jump into it too quickly. And to anyone who's thinking that Regina seems a little bit hot-and-cold in this chapter, please stick with it. The POV makes writing Regina's character really hard to do at times, because I so desperately want to delve into what she's thinking but I can't because it would ruin the story for the rest of you. Suffice to say that the plot is moving along nicely now - I anticipate that this may be ten parts all together, maybe twelve. It's been two weeks and I'm at 32k words. One of these days I'll actually do a NaNoWriMo in November like I'm supposed to. :D
Again, thank you guys so much for reviewing. Feel free to ask me questions - I try my absolute best to answer them via PM or in notes here, if you review anon.
Next: The Imp and the Game