Note: I am back! Short chapter, next one to follow TODAY. Make me make it happen, I'm already writing it. Did anyone guess right?
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Feel me, Emma. Whenever you close your eyes.
Regina flexed her fingers, remembering the feel of Emma's hands in hers. She heard the executioner pace away from her and remove the bow from his back.
I love you.
Emma read the words on Regina's lips, clearly meant for her.
Now close your eyes.
Emma wished she could obey, but it was as if she had lost all control of her body. She watched, transfixed, as the sun rose over the horizon and Snow gave the order and the executioner drew back an arrow and fired it perfectly into its target.
Regina's head flopped forward; Blue felt for a pulse, nodded once to Snow, then waved a preservation spell over the lifeless body and lifted it into the coffin, magicking away the arrow so the only evidence of ill health was a tiny red circle on the left of the chest.
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Even in death, she was the most beautiful thing Emma had ever seen. She hardly seemed dead at all - maybe she was just sleeping, heavily, as she did when they were together, sated, safe, at peace. Emma stared into the mirror, the screen through which she saw and felt so much, and waited for tears and screams and tantrums that never came. It was as if the arrow, sailing through the air, had hypnotised her, and now she was blank, empty, as lifeless as the corpse she continued to watch.
Emma searched herself for pain, but the only feeling she found was a flicker, and it was not cold or hard or angry. It was warm and inviting, it was the way she felt when she was in Regina's arms, it was in her chest, and it was growing.
Feel me, Emma. Whenever you close your eyes.
Emma closed her eyes. The warmth in her chest surged like a lighted match, only the flame never died down.
"Regina?" Emma whispered.
The flame seemed to swell, again, in answer.
"Regina, I can… Why can I feel you?"
Emma should have been afraid but just as sadness would not come, neither would fear. Regina, her love for Regina, the love that they shared, or whatever else it was, was burning in her chest and it felt odd, yes, but it did not feel wrong.
Emma did not need to open her eyes to see Regina. She did not need to look at the body any more - Regina was inside her, and she did not seem ghostly or spiritual, she seemed alive and real and - was that a flicker of amusement.
Feel me, Emma.
Had Regina known this would happen? Had she known how connected Emma would feel, how painless it would all be? Emma felt a wave of sadness as she thought about explaining this to Henry-
"Ma?"
Emma's eyes snapped open. The child stood in her doorway in his nightshirt, peering into it and looking at his chest.
"Henry? Are you okay?"
Henry seemed puzzled. "Yes. But there's something hot in my shirt."
Emma took a step towards him.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, concerned. But Henry shook his head.
"No. It's just… cosy."
Emma thought about the feeling she had. Was it the same? How was that possible? Was it to do with magic, to do with love, to do with strength of spirit..? Maybe the strung out pixies who danced around trees and enthused about flowers and nature and love connecting everything were actually on to something. Yeah, maybe not. Emma rolled her eyes - wait, had that come from her or the warmth in her chest? It felt a lot like Regina. And it was still going, still wanting things.
There was a strangled roar from elsewhere in the castle, and the sound of large wings launching a distraught body into the sky. Emma hoped Mal managed not to torch too many living things. Even upon hearing another person's pain, though, Emma did not feel sad. Not at all. She felt…
"Henry, we are going on a trip today."
She felt like a daytrip?
Henry smiled. "Yes please!"
Apparently, so did he. Emma ordered the carriage. Shell shocked, miserable servants followed her commands. Emma gave them the day off to grieve once the task was complete, but still she felt no pain herself. She heard them whisper that she was a brilliant actress, that they wished she would stop pretending so they could comfort her, and she began to feel guilty for her lack of feeling. But still, no feeling came, and the guilt fizzled away when the flame caught it, the flame in her chest that continued burning, brighter and brighter, and seemed to provide wonderful ideas for what she and Henry should do.
"What is happening to us, Henry?" Emma asked the small boy. He didn't know, but he bounded enthusiastically into the carriage and snuggled against her side as they rode to-
A tavern? More specifically, the tavern.
"Why here?" Emma asked imaginary Regina. Because the flame was Regina, there was no doubt about that. Actually, it was definitely not imaginary. But how could it be real. Regina was dead. Emma had watched her die.
The driver told them in the White Kingdom the day was to be forever marked as a celebratory day of peace. In their lands, though, the people wore black and sang powerful laments, praising their departed ruler and promising to honour her wish for the war to end, but crying out in pain at the loss of such a fair, brave leader. Emma wondered how she would ever live up to Regina as a Queen, but she remained unafraid because Regina was inside her. Regina was guiding her even now.
They reached the tavern. It was closed, but Emma pushed inside anyway. There was no one there, not even a bar keep, but one candle flickered at a corner table.
Henry ran to it immediately.
"Hey, hold up kid! That's real fire, not the kind you play with."
Henry rolled his eyes. So Regina. "I know," he said. "But I want to go over here. It's even cosier over here."
Emma followed, and knew what he meant. There, at that little table with its single candle and battered silverware, was the warmest feeling she'd ever experienced, yet it somehow didn't burn her. Somehow, it just felt… Good. Something pulled at her mind, something soft and flirtatious and…
"What were you fighting for?"
"Revenge."
"Sounds healthy. Why'd you give up?"
Regina groaned. "Love. Idiotic thing that it is. He was dead within the year anyway. Heart attack, if you'd believe it!"
Love. Idiotic thing that it is. Regina had been so desolate, so fascinating, so beautiful. And so evil, in a way. Emma grinned. She'd been awesome. The warmth in her chest increased yet again, this time to an almost irritating level. Emma's grin disappeared as she felt herself being pulled towards the wall. No matter the source of the feeling, she did not like being physically controlled.
And the warmth seemed to know that. Its pull became almost apologetic. Henry giggled; he was being pulled too but to him it was a game. Because he didn't resist, he reached the destination first. The wall. The candlelight lit up a patch of it and Henry, fascinated, put his hand in the light to make a shadow.
"Take my hand, Ma," he said, smiling. "You should take my hand."
He was right. How did they know? Emma realised that the longer she questioned and resisted the pull, the worse she would feel. With a sigh, she took her son's hand-
There was a blinding white light that threw them both backwards and knocked out the candle, leaving them in darkness until their eyes adjusted to the dim illumination provided by the daylight seeping through the shutters. Emma got up and helped Henry up with her, lifting him into her arms.
"What was that?" he asked. Emma was surprised that he didn't seem afraid.
"It was magic," Emma said. "But… It was a very special kind of magic. I think… I think it was the magic of True Love."
Henry didn't seem to care. Emma realised pretty much all the boy had known was love, love of the truest, most unconditional kind. He didn't know that True Love, especially the kind strong enough and in tune enough to make magic like that, was fantastically rare.
The light and dust cleared showing the patch of wall that had been in the light had been blasted away, revealing a space just large enough for a small wooden chest. Emma took the chest with one hand. The place where the lid met the box glowed red and the whole thing seemed to pulse, just as Emma's heart did. She set Henry down and reached to open the box, knowing she had to, knowing she had no choice.
Emma's heart beat faster as she remembered stories of Pandora and her fatal error. The pulsing of the box seemed to accelerate, too.
"Open it, Ma!" Henry demanded, sounding worried, too. "You have to open it."
Emma hesitated. What if it was a curse? What if she had been tricked?
Feel me, Emma. Whenever you close your eyes.
Emma closed her eyes, trusting the only thing, the only person, she could. And she felt, she felt Regina, and Regina guided her hands to undo the box and lift the lid and open her eyes again.