Many Miles to Avalon Chapter 4: A Peace, Of the Past, an once upon a time fanfic

Warnings: passing reference to sexual assault and child abuse in this chapter.

Camelot was—according to Snow—relatively near; on the other side of the mountain, and a half day's journey past, in fact. The mountain was large—and getting around the wide face would take all of their light—but it was still achievable; a bump in their road, not a block.

As they moved away from Merlin's cave, Emma slipped her hands into her pockets, taking a moment to adjust to the realization that she would not be getting home as soon as she had thought. Being trapped in this world still worried her, made her itchy with the near-constant fear. But as she watched Snow pull her canteen out of her bag and take a drink, and Regina lightly rest a hand on Henry's back, she felt her anxiety ease a bit.

"So, what do we do now?" Henry asked, looking around. "We go find the first sword?"

Snow looked over at Emma uncomfortably. "Henry, I think we'd better take you back to the castle. I'm sure David's been wondering where you went." Emma warmed at the thought of Snow thinking of Henry, but she wasn't sure that was the right call. After all, he'd managed to sneak out on his sitters there once, already.

Henry looked around, shaking his head. "No way! We're almost there, right? It'd take days to get me back and then retrace your steps," he argued. "And I left a note," he grumbled.

Regina slid her hand over Henry's shoulder and added, "Not to mention the fact that your idiot husband lost track of him within the first few hours of Henry being placed in his care."

"Besides, won't I be safer here with you anyway? Where you can protect me with magic?" He looked between Emma and Regina, arms crossed defiantly.

Emma hesitated, unsure about the right call. It was dangerous out here, but there was no guarantee the barrier would hold at the castle anyway. And, as he'd mentioned, they had magic to protect him, here.

"Fine," Emma said after a moment. "The sooner we can find these things, the sooner I get him home, away from all of this crap, right?" Ignoring Henry's triumphant grin, she looked over at Snow. "Lead the way."

Walking around a mountain, Emma noted, was much easier said than done. The stone paths had decayed over the years, leaving uneven foot paths in very open areas, and the altitude was starting to make Emma nervous every time she looked down over the side, now a good fifty feet up. Heights were definitely not her thing.

Swallowing, she shifted closer to the solid wall to her left, and fell into step right behind Regina.

"Hey," Emma started, and Regina raised a brow as she looked over her shoulder.

"Hey," she tossed back, and Emma felt herself flush a bit at her awkward greeting.

"Do you have any idea why Merlin was locked up?" Watching her steps carefully, she navigated a rocky portion of the trail. "I mean, a powerful guy like that isn't imprisoned for no reason, right?"

"Mmmm," Regina agreed vaguely.

"So, I mean, is this a good idea? Freeing him?"

"It is," Snow said from behind her, holding out a hand to help Henry over a particularly large crack in the path. "When I was younger I met Lancelot," her voice cracked a bit, "and he became a good friend of mine. He told me Merlin was one of King Arthur's most trusted allies."

"Yeah, ma," Henry agreed. "Merlin is one of the good guys. He wasn't trapped 'cause he was bad. I think he got tricked by his student, after he taught her magic."

Emma quieted, accepting their answers. After all, she knew the least about this world, right? As Regina walked ahead of her, she caught sight of the tight lips and clenched jaw, and wondered if maybe she wasn't the only one to still have her doubts.

"There," Snow breathed out, as the path widened into a large plateau. Coming to a stop beside Emma, Snow pointed out ahead, to where a large stone castle stood, surrounded by smaller buildings. "That's Camelot, over there." The castle rested on a small hill, past miles of forest.

Grimacing at how far away it was, Emma's lips turned down as she said, "It'll take us way longer than you said to get over there."

Snow walked to the beginning of a new path, this one sloping downward, and shook her head. "There's a small village at the base of the mountain. We can get some horses, and make it there much faster," she answered, and began to lead them down the trail.

The path up and around the peak had not been easy, but Emma was unprepared for the difficulty of navigating the steep declines, especially as night had almost fallen. With little light, Emma was forced to feel around, her palms becoming calloused from the constant friction of the stone face beside her.

She stumbled more than once on the loose rock beneath her feet, the cooling night air making it worse as her muscles tensed slightly beneath her jacket.

"You doing OK, kid?" Emma asked, squinting over her shoulder at her son.

"Yeah," he said with a little effort, as he used the wall for balance as well.

They were close to the base of the mountain now, just ten feet up, and she could see bare ground not too far ahead. Light was coming from about a half mile ahead, the firelight of torches peeking between the trees that separated them from the village.

Emma turned to look over her shoulder again, and saw Henry starting to fall behind. "Here, kid," Emma said, and held out a hand to guide him in front of her, a few feet behind Regina.

"Thanks," he smiled, and focused on moving in the near-dark. Regina stilled as they switched places, and looked over his head to Emma. Unable to read her face in the low light, Emma simply nodded, and smiled when Regina did the same, a silent agreement to watch Henry passing between them.

"Just a bit farther," Snow said, brushing the branches that grew over the sides of the path out of her way. The farther they walked down the path, the more it disintegrated, until it faded completely away, leaving nothing but rocky terrain and patchy grass ahead.

As Snow neared the edge of a clear area, just eight or so feet off the ground, she knelt down, and sat on the edge. Sliding herself off, she landed roughly on the hard dirt, and groaned as she stood up, brushing off her pants. "Come on," Snow said quietly, gesturing for the others to follow.

Emma looked over the side of the path, and winced a little. "From up here?"

Regina looked over at her and smirked. "The Savior is afraid of a little drop?"

Emma thinned her lips and sat down, sliding her long legs over. Swallowing deeply, she took a deep breath and slid off, landing hard on her ankle. Closing her eyes and breathing through her nose, she stood up, favoring her other leg as she rolled it experimentally. Twisted, then, but not sprained.

She slowly eased pressure on it as she walked directly below the side, and held her hands out. "Henry?" She asked, and the boy seemed to hesitate a moment before sitting on the edge of the ledge.

Regina knelt down behind him, putting her hand up to hover over his back protectively as she furrowed her brows in concern and said, "Careful." Emma reached up, helping to guide him down gently, and with a small oomph he was standing on the ground.

Gracefully, Regina sat down as the others had, and let her legs hang from the edge. She paused a moment, and Emma looked up at her, smirking, before reaching out her hands. "Scared?" she teased, and Regina's eyes narrowed.

"Please," she scoffed, but let Emma rest her hands on her knees. As she slid down, Emma's hands ghosted up her thighs to rest on her hips, and as Regina landed softly, she stumbled a bit. Emma's hands slid up to rest on her waist, the fabric of her jacket molding to her curves.

Emma stilled as Regina took a small step toward her, settling on her feet. She was close—impossibly close, actually—and Emma felt her breath catch in her throat. Regina looked at her in surprise, her mouth parting as her hands settled on Emma's wrists. Emma's eyes fell to the scar above Regina's lip, before she looked up to meet her eyes again.

Suddenly, Regina pushed at Emma's hands until they fell from her slim waist, and she cleared her throat, stepping back and flicking at a few strands of hair that had fallen from her braid. "If you're quite done manhandling me, Miss Swan, we should find a place to rest for the night."

Regina brushed past her, running her hands down the front of her jacket and tucking her hair back into the braid as she walked away. A little dumbfounded at the reaction, Emma turned towards Snow, who was watching her closely, an unreadable expression on her face.

Uncomfortable, Emma cleared her throat and gestured toward the woman walking away. "Um, I suppose we should," she trailed off, shaking her head a bit to focus as she walked toward the village.

As she walked, pushing low braches away from her face, she felt the cool night air on her cheeks, and realized they were still a little flushed. She watched Regina ahead of her, moving gracefully beneath the trees, but her movements were harsh and aggressive as she brushed branches aside.

Emma's fingers tingled as she thought about the smooth fabric that had been so tight against her skin, the way her waist curved in slightly, and the gentle dip of the back she had barely touched. But even more distracting was the way Regina had looked at her: intense eyes, slightly hooded, as shallow breaths passed her lips to mingle with her own.

Her cheeks were warming again, and she licked her lips, pushing the thoughts aside. It was nothing, the culmination of the long day, and the lingering connection from their combined magic at the cave. She blinked a few times, refocusing just as Regina stepped through the trees and into a small village. There were very few buildings: a few houses, a blacksmith's, a barn, tavern, and above it—she sighed—what looked to be an inn.

Regina turned, and held out a hand to point to the inn. "We'll see if they have a room, stay tonight, and then head to Camelot in the morning." Emma nodded, smiling down at Henry as he came to stand by her side.

Resting her arm on his shoulder, they walked toward the inn. With a wince she realized how loud it was as she neared, raucous laughter penetrating through the wooden doors of the tavern to drift into the street.

"Keep him close, Emma," Regina said quickly, and pulled open the door. The group followed her to the counter of the bar, standing strongly and demanding the bartender's attention. Looking up at her, finally, he walked over to Regina and eyed her warily.

"What'll it be?"

Regina reached toward her hip, pulling out six gold coins and sliding them out onto the table. "We need two rooms for the night."

The bartender eyed her carefully, before looking around at the rest of the group. After a moment, he leaned an arm on the counter and shook his head. "It's eight."

Regina's eyes narrowed, and she tightened her jaw. Emma saw her clench her fingers into a fist before reaching back into the bag and pulling out two more. The bartender slid the coins into his hand, and Regina pursed her lips, holding out a hand. "The keys?"

He reached below the counter and dropped a heavy key into her palm. "We only got one," he said gruffly, and Regina's eyes lit in fury.

"Eight coins for a single room?" Her lip curled up baring her teeth dangerously, but he remained unmoved.

Snow slid in beside her and gently rested her palm on Regina's forearm. "It's just money, let's go."

Jerking her arm away from the other woman she glared again at the man behind the bar, who continued to eye the group unimpressed.

Regina's anger resonated with Emma, and she found herself grinding her teeth as she ushered her son up the stairs toward the inn rooms. The man's behavior was familiar; how he'd eyed them all, determining them to be easy targets, people he could easily take advantage of.

Emma felt the upset, but Regina seemed to be truly shaken by the interaction, and it was a bit strange. Unlocking the door, Regina opened their room and stepped inside, followed by the rest of their party.

The room wasn't horrible—was actually much better than Emma had anticipated—with two double beds and clean-looking bedding. The space was small, however, and as she shut the door behind her, she found herself standing much too close to Regina, who still radiated anger.

Slipping her pack off of her back—finally—she rolled her shoulders, and stretched out her arms. With a sigh she unzipped her jacket, leaving her in just the tunic and vest, and she shook out her hair behind her.

As she moved she caught sight of Regina watching her as she slid her own bag off of her shoulders, and set it down beside one of the beds. Dropping her own, Emma sat down on one of the beds, Henry flopping down next to her.

"Can we get something to eat," he asked. "I'm starving."

Her own stomach having been roiling for the past few hours, Emma nodded, and leaned back on her hands. "Me too, kid. Should we go downstairs before it gets much louder?" As if on cue, a large cheer erupted from below.

"That sounds good," Snow said, pulling her thick vest off of her back and laying it down on the bed. She walked to the door and Henry followed, Emma right behind.

Regina seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, as she stared down at her palms. "Regina?" Emma prompted, and she curled her fingers into fists, before setting them by her side. Turning, she looked at her questioningly. "Dinner?"

Her jaw clenched again, like she didn't want to go back down there. But a small rumble coming from her stomach made her blush prettily, and she nodded. "I suppose so."

They filed back out into the hallway, and down the stairs to join the loud dining area. The entire floor was open, with tables strewn around, and several stools at the bar they'd gone to when they bought the room.

The open space did nothing to quiet the noise from the tavern, and a small band that played in the corner only made it worse. Wincing a bit at the volume, Emma led them over to a far table near the corner of the room.

The table was small and round, with two tablecloths draped together to cover the surface. In the middle sat a small lantern, casting their faces with an orange glow as they sat down. Emma leaned back in her chair, her back aching from their long journey, and she bit back a moan as she closed her eyes.

Sighing, she opened them, and asked, "So, what kind of food should I expect in this world? Nothing too gross, right?" Her lips turned down into a worried pout.

"No," Snow shook her head, smiling fondly. "I'm sure it'll be much tamer than you're imagining." Before Emma could ask more, a waitress—or whatever the hell they were called more officially—walked by the table, empty tray in hand. "Excuse me?" Snow asked loudly, and the girl turned, walking to their table.

She looked at them expectantly, and Snow smiled at her pleasantly. "Could we get some stew? And wine," she added.

"Milk for him," Regina interjected, pointing at Henry. The girl nodded, and walked away without another word.

"That was a bit rude," Snow frowned.

"You forget, Snow," Regina angled her body to face her at her side, "that not everyone recognizes you as their Queen." She smirked. "Or even royalty."

"Perhaps you've forgotten, Regina, that I spent years being neither," she shot back, and Regina's smile faded. Snow's words were pointed, much harsher than she'd been toward the other woman since Emma had arrived, and it was a bit odd.

Henry shifted in his seat, and said, "Do you know where the stone is for the first sword?"

Emma looked around quickly, feeling like this might be more of a delicate subject, and Henry took the hint, blushing and lowering his voice. "Sorry. Do you though?" He asked both Snow and Regina.

"No, I'm afraid I don't, Henry," she said regretfully. Looking a bit nostalgic, she said, "I knew that it had been returned to Camelot shortly after King Arthur's death years ago." She looked down at the table. "And I remember Lancelot telling me that it had been put back 'where it belonged', which I suppose was the stone Merlin mentioned." She shook her head. "But I don't think I ever knew where the rock was."

The table quieted as their food was brought out: four bowls of stew, a large loaf of bread, and a carafe of wine. Regina dismissed their server with a raised eyebrow, and began to fill her glass before she passed it to Emma who sat to her left.

Henry took a drink of his milk, making a face at the consistency, and began to dig into his bowl of stew. The others did the same, their rumbling stomachs making for little conversation, and before she realized it, Emma was to the bottom of her bowl.

She leaned back in her chair, her belly full and the—admittedly kind of gross—wine starting to calm her. Looking around the table, she smiled at Henry, as he dragged a piece of bread across the bottom of the bowl to get the last bit of soup.

Regina reached for her glass, and took a sip of her own wine, delicately wiping at her lip as she set it back down. The room was still loud—louder, even, if that was possible—but Emma felt it fade out a bit as she tilted her head, watching Regina as she smiled playfully at Henry across from her.

Overhead chandeliers supplied the bulk of the candlelight in the room, but as they burned down, the glow coming off of the lantern cast larger shadows. From her seat, Emma could see Regina mostly in profile, her sharp jaw and full lips looking even more dramatic in the low light. Her deep brown eyes sparkled as she smiled, and her gloved fingers played with the stem of her wineglass on the table.

Swallowing, Emma wanted to see her bare hand again, hold it in her own as she'd done that first morning. Her breath grew shallower as she licked her lips, and reached blindly for her glass, her chest flaring as it began to tilt, and she barely caught it in time.

When she'd steadied the stem, she looked up, and saw Regina looking at her curiously, though she said nothing. Snow, on the other hand, hadn't noticed at all. Rather, she held her spoon loosely in her hand, the little stew left in her bowl now undoubtedly cold. She wore a far-off stare, and Emma cleared her throat, raising her hand to get her attention.

After a moment she did break focus, and smiled shyly at Emma. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"How rare," Regina muttered, and Emma wondered if it was purposeful or if the wine had merely loosened her tongue.

Ignoring the jab, Snow placed her hands on the table, dropping the spoon and clasping her palms together. "I think I might know where to find the second sword."

At this, Regina perked up, and crossed her legs as she turned in her chair to face Snow. "What are you thinking?" She asked, squarely.

"When David was engaged to Abigail, he went looking for the Lady of the Lake to grant a wish, and free him from the engagement." Emma's eyes widened a bit at the history implied in that sentence, but Snow continued. "The lake was magical, and was rumored to be bottomless."

Regina's brows lowered, and she leaned forward a bit. "I thought the lake was how you got to the well," she said low, her voice meant only for Snow, though Emma could still hear. "That it was all dried up."

Licking her lips, Snow nodded. "It was. But," she worried her lip, "it has to be where Merlin left the second blade. Maybe if we go, we can find a clue of how to get it."

Emma's face fell at the discussion. "Or it could mean we'll never find it." The obvious conclusion hung in the air, until Henry yawned, and leaned heavily back in his seat. "Tired?" Henry nodded, too sleepy to even fake otherwise, and Emma smiled. "Go to bed, Henry."

Nodding, Henry pushed back from his chair and circled the table to head towards the stairs. "Henry," Emma said, stopping him. "You need a key, kid." He turned back, and Regina slid the key from her pocket, holding it up. Henry took it, his hands a bit rough from the climb down the mountain.

With a small gasp, Regina held Henry's wrist and turned it over to look at his dry palms. "You need to wash up, first. Does it hurt?" She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and Henry shook his head.

"No, just dry. It's not a big deal, really." Regina looked unconvinced, and he sighed. "Fine, I'll take care of it."

Regina pointed past him to a bathroom sign, and gave him very clear instructions on how to wash and check for small scrapes. The lecture was cute, if a bit intense for Emma's tastes. Still, her protectiveness of Henry was charming, and Emma found herself smiling just a bit foolishly at Regina.

Which, she apparently noticed, as she looked over and caught Emma eyeing her carefully. "What?" she asked defensively.

Shrugging, Emma picked up her glass, draining the last of it. "Nothing. Just, kind of sweet, I guess." The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and Emma felt the heat on her cheeks in an instant; she got the distinct impression that sweet was not a word used often around Regina.

"Sweet?" she asked skeptically, confirming Emma's suspicions. However, there was a small smile in the corner of her lips, twitching like it had a bigger one growing beneath it, and Emma swallowed, standing her ground.

"Yeah, sweet." She held firm for a long moment, before she ducked her head a bit. "I don't know, I grew up without any of that protectiveness stuff, I guess it's just pretty appealing, or whatever." When she looked back up, Regina was looking at her softly, but Snow sat across from Emma, face distorted in pain. "Are you OK, Snow?" Emma asked quickly.

Regina turned to look, too, and Snow stood, pushing her chair back with a clatter in her haste. Righting it, she shook her head. "No, it's nothing. I just, I think I should head to bed, too." She smiled sadly at them, and walked toward Henry, who was just at the bottom of the stairs.

Emma watched as they walked out of view, into the room, before turning toward Regina. "That was weird, right?"

With a small, humorless laugh, Regina said, "I am the last person you should be asking about Snow and typical behavior." At Emma's confused look, she added a bit hesitantly, "Every time I think I know where she's coming from, she surprises me."

She licked her lips and turned to face Emma, leaning forward into Emma's part of the table. "And don't you dare tell her I said that." Emma smirked playfully, about to make a joke, when she saw the resolve in Regina's eyes.

"Fine," Emma agreed, and reached for the carafe of wine, only to find it empty. Gesturing toward Regina, she asked, "Are you gonna stay down here for a while?"

Her hands stilled on the table, and Emma thought again, about how their hands had felt together. "Perhaps I will, for one last drink," she said, quirking a brow to ask Emma.

"Me too," she said a bit awkwardly. "I mean, if you don't mind the company."

Regina sized her up for a moment before she glanced over her shoulder at the inn upstairs and her shoulders softened slightly. Her face softened, in that moment, and instead of snapping back at her—as Emma was almost certain she was about to do—she closed her mouth and gave Emma a smile.

A real smile. It was small, but open and honest and absolutely stunning. Emma couldn't help but return it. "OK, so let's get another drink." Regina started to stand, and Emma held a hand out. "Why don't I grab them," she offered, noticing their waitress was on the other end of the room, and the bartender that had made Regina so upset was still in his spot behind the counter.

Regina reached into her pocket and pulled five coins out, handing them to her. "It should only cost two, for drinks and our meal," she warned. "Bring me a glass of cider," she instructed, and Emma rolled her eyes a bit as she turned at the order.

Emma stood in front of the counter and leaned onto it tiredly. Shifting her weight she rolled the twisted ankle, wincing a bit at the pain she felt. After a minute, the bartender walked over and quirked a brow as he dried a mug, looking put out. Emma wasn't positive, but she had a feeling it was the whole out-of-towner thing they had going for them. A lifetime of similar looks had made her pretty good at spotting them.

"I'll have a cider and a beer—" she cut herself off, closing one eye. "Ale, I guess? And I'll pay for dinner, too." He walked away without a word, silently filling two mugs and pushing them over to her.

"Three," he said, disinterested.

Pursing her lips, Emma said, "I'm guessing it's really two."

The man leaned over the bar and sized her up, his yellow teeth bared slightly. "Three," he said more firmly.

Emma sighed. "Look, I don't know what your issue is with my friend, or if you're just an ass because we're not from around here, but I don't have the patience for this crap."

She put two coins on the table, and reached over for the mugs, but was stopped by a heavy hand on her wrist. Smiling dangerously, Emma shook her head before quickly slipping her arm free and twisting her hand to grip his fingers, pulling them back as he winced loudly.

Holding the painful pose, his wrist bent back past uncomfortable, she leaned forward and said, low. "I told you I didn't have the patience," and let him go, picking up the mugs with one hand as she slipped one of the coins back into her pocket. "Thanks," she said sarcastically, and turned back toward the table where she'd left Regina.

Her eyebrows raised as she saw her, standing a few feet from the table, her hand held out as though she were about to conjure a fireball in the middle of the inn. "Woah," Emma said, walking past her and setting her cider in front of her seat. "Put it away," she said, feeling full of adrenaline after her minor run-in.

Regina lowered her hand and sat back down, reaching for her glass. As Emma took a sip, Regina smirked at her. "I can't say I didn't enjoy that."

Laughing lightly, Emma licked her lips. "Neither can I." Running her thumb up the side of the glass, she said, "I just can't stand jerks like that. That see someone and immediately think of how they can take advantage of them."

Regina bristled. "He did not take advantage of me," she said dangerously. Her palms splayed out on the table and she said, quieter, "No one does." Leaning back in her chair she crossed her legs, her entire being demanding attention that Emma was all too happy to give. "Besides," she said, quirking a brow, "I don't need anyone to defend me."

"Yeah," she laughed, "that wasn't even a thought." Regina's face fell, and Emma licked her lips, holding up a hand. "I mean, I've only known you for a few days, and I'm pretty sure you're the most capable woman I've ever met."

Shifting at the compliment, Regina reached for her glass, pulling it closer. "Oh," she said uncomfortably, "well, thank you, Miss Swan."

Emma snorted, trying to shake off the suddenly heave moment and took a drink of her ale. "We're gonna be stuck together a little longer, can we can it with the Miss Swan crap? I mean, you can't tell me we were as close as we apparently were and you didn't just call me Emma."

A dark look fell over Regina's face, and she worried her lip before she took another sip. "I'm afraid we weren't quiet as…close as you seem to think." At Emma's confused look, she added, "We didn't get along when you first came to Storybrooke, and though things tempered between us, we were never quite friends."

The statement stung like rejection, and Emma leaned her forearms on the table, holding her glass between both hands. "Oh," was all she could manage. "I guess," she shrugged, running her thumb up and down the cup.

"You thought what?" Regina prompted, and when Emma looked up at her, her eyes were a little wide with something like hope.

"I guess that makes sense." The smallest flicker of hurt crossed Regina's face. "That we clashed at first. I mean, you can do the whole bitchy Ice Queen thing like a pro. But," she shrugged, "it seems weird if we didn't move past that. I've seen you with Henry, and sometimes Snow, and me, even."

Regina licked her lips, watching Emma closely. "I guess I just can't imagine that anything was so bad between us that I wouldn't give you a second chance," she finished, shoulder hunched in embarrassment. She was laying herself bare, her forgotten self, at least, and judging by Regina's face, it was just as much of a surprise to her.

They drank for a moment, neither saying a word, as the loud music and laughter and cheering from the inn floor continued to fill the air.

"I didn't give you a second chance, either, Emma," Regina said softly, almost a whisper, and Emma had to lean forward to hear it.

When she did, Emma smiled at her, wide, and held up her mug. "Well, then," she tilted her head, "to second chances." Smiling, Regina touched her glass to Emma's lightly, before they both took a sip. The liquor was strong, and at halfway through the glass, Emma could feel just a bit of pleasant fuzziness starting to slip in.

Turning her body, she looked toward the center of the room, where a few of the women had gathered to dance as the small band played a new song. The high pitch of the flute was starting to grate, and Emma winced as she watched the women dance.

A look of mild distaste on her face, Emma tilted her head toward Regina and said, "God, is this all you had to listen to growing up here? Because if so, being sent to a world with the Beatles and Poison may have been merciful."

Regina laughed, a real laugh, small as it was, and the action transformed her face; she suddenly looked years younger, her full lips quirked in an easy smile, her eyes glittering in the candlelight, and her shoulders relaxed. And the sound. Emma was positive she had never heard anything as captivating as the low chuckle that fell from tongue.

Emma licked her lips, her eyes running over the details of Regina's face, her neck, her arms. She'd noticed when she had first arrived how Regina had beautiful in a sort-of haunted way. But now—open and relaxed and almost happy—she was radiant.

"Of course you enjoy Poison," she playfully scoffed, taking a sip of her drink and breaking the deep moment Emma had fallen into. "Let me guess: your iPod consists of nothing but glam rock and early grunge?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Emma smirked. "And yours, I suppose, is overflowing with taste?" Regina raised a brow but didn't answer, simply taking another drink from her glass. Scooting closer, Emma prompted, "OK, now you have to tell me."

"I have to do no such thing."

"C'mon, Regina, I showed you mine."

Regina snorted, but smiled playfully. "You most certainly did not," she eyed Emma, and a blush rose on her pale face. "Besides, I agreed to no sort of trade. You gave it up willingly, dear." Regina's tongue flicked against the edge of her teeth, and Emma felt heat course through her body.

"Well," Emma started, but before she could finish the music had grown louder, the patrons clapping in—slightly drunken—time, as several patrons had joined in with the dance taking place in the middle of the room. They moved in a simple series of steps, and Emma found herself getting lost in the performance of so many.

"Ladies!" one of the waitresses came to their table, holding out her hands. "Come dance," she said with a perky smile.

"I think not," Regina said coldly, the playfulness she'd just shown disappearing in an instant. Emma watched as the girl walked away quickly, writing their table off as a waste, before trying to cajole the next group into getting up.

Regina's easy smile had faded with the disturbance, and Emma bit her lip, not ready to see the vibrant woman that had just been opening up fade away again. "Come on," she said, and stood, holding out her hands.

"Emma," Regina warned, but Emma tugged gently on her arm, and she stood up. "Emma, I haven't danced in years and—"

"And I've never danced in this world," she said loudly, as she pulled Regina closer to the music and into the throng of slightly inebriated patrons. "I have no idea what I'm doing," she laughed, buzzed from the liquor and the presence of the woman before her.

Bodies bumped past them in dance as Emma stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Looking around she tried to watch the others, stomach dropping as she realized what a dumb idea this was. How she thought this would make Regina smile when she had no idea—

"Emma," Regina said, quirking her brow and holding up a hand impatiently. "If you're going to make me do this," she teased, and Emma looked around before placing her palm against Regina's as the other couples were doing.

They walked in a small circle, Regina leading Emma in the simple steps of the dance. Trying to keep up, Emma dropped her hand when Regina did, and copied her movements as she stepped to the side and kicked her foot low in front of her.

Laughing self-consciously, Emma fumbled through the movements, kicking and clapping and spinning, certain she was doing it wrong but enjoying the moment regardless.

It seemed Regina was, too. Her mouth was parted as she quietly sang along, and she moved perfectly with the group, her eyes sparkling. Those around her spun away from their partners, taking Emma with them in the motion, and she struggled to keep up with the movements as she looked around to spot where Regina had ended up.

The flute played shrilly behind her as she watched Regina, face open as she danced with one of the waitresses across the dance area. Emma was captivated, she couldn't look away, and she blindly grasped hands as the dancers slid closer to their original partners, Regina coming closer to her with every beat.

"You're a terrible dancer, Emma," Regina said, laughing, and Emma couldn't help but do the same, smiling at the realization that Regina had been watching her, too.

Putting her back toward Emma, Regina put her hands out behind her back, bent at the elbow, and Emma did the same, following the others as she turned to dance back to back with Regina.

The heat of the inn was stifling, the air thick with the smell of liquor and heat, but Emma pressed herself closer to her partner, their shoulders brushing as they tilted their heads to see the other.

The music stopped, and Regina stilled, dropping Emma's hands reluctantly, and turning to face Emma. Clearing her throat, she defended, "I told you I haven't done that in years."

Emma followed her back to the table, and as she sat down, Emma smiled, "Looked good to me."

Regina pursed her lips, but her cheek twitched with the effort as she sat down, too. "Yes, well a rather low bar there."

Both women finished their drinks slowly, savoring the last vestiges of the moment, until Regina set her empty glass down softly. "You asked me why the Evil Queen cast the curse." Emma nodded after a moment, remembering. "It wasn't that she was evil," she said softly. "At least, not entirely.

"Her actions were deplorable, vicious, and she did many unforgivable things." Regina swallowed deeply, and Emma leaned forward, sensing the heaviness of her words. "But she was very, very lonely when she cast that curse. Unhappy. Miserable. And nothing she did could slate that misery."

"So she wanted everyone else to be miserable, too," Emma said, understanding. Regina looked up in surprise, and Emma shrugged. "Misery loves company. There's a reason it's such an old saying." Emma sighed, leaning her cheek heavily on her hand. "God, how horrible must things have been—"

"She wouldn't want, nor need your pity, Miss Swan," she bit out quickly. Regret flashed in her eyes, but she kept her lips pressed together.

Leaning away at the venom, Emma shook her head. "It's not pity. It's sympathy. Empathy, maybe."

Regina scoffed. "Empathy?"

Emma's brow furrowed in defense. "Yeah, empathy. My life hasn't exactly been rainbows, Regina." She wasn't sure why, but the accusation that she wouldn't understand resonated deeply. "I'm not saying I've ever enacted a curse, but I've had my shitty nights, too, where all I wanted to do was hurt people as bad as I hurt. Sometimes I did," she finished, softly.

Regina seemed skeptical. "I'm sure you did," she said, almost patronizingly.

Scoffing, Emma leaned back in her chair. "You could ask the foster dad I knocked out with a frying pan for trying to touch me. Or the bully I gave a broken arm to at school for calling me 'Orphan Annie' for weeks. The foster sister with a scar on her leg from when I caught her trying to steal from me. The kid at the group home I stabbed for actually touching me." Emma stared at Regina evenly, her heart racing from the words and the memories and the regretful expression on Regina's face.

Breathing out slowly, Regina shook her head, speaking softly, "That's different, Emma."

Nodding, she said, "Yeah, it is. It was vengeance. Justice, as I thought of it back then. People getting what they deserved." Regina's jaw clenched. "How about this: ask the social worker that gave me a popsicle at every visit how I keyed her car. Or the foster parents I had when I was thirteen, and they threw me a birthday party, tried to make me feel like a part of the family. Ask them how I stole from them, and trashed their house.

"I'm not saying what she did was right, not even close, and I can't imagine the pain she inflicted on you, and Snow, and the others." Regina watched her closely. "Revenge is pretty easy to get sucked into. But lashing out at people that have never hurt you, maybe even been kind to you, that's something different. Wanting to make happy people miserable only comes from a lot of pain and betrayal."

She sucked in a breath at how much of herself she was revealing. The ale was strong, but this was something more, something born of momentum, and she couldn't stop herself from finally getting it out. "You only hurt the nice ones because it's not fair. And because it can't last. If they had to go through what you did, they wouldn't be nice and happy and helpful. They'd be as broken as you are."

Regina watched her closely for a long moment. "That doesn't sound like a fairytale at all."

"No," Emma agreed solemnly. "It doesn't. I guess that's what happens when you're from the real world. But I was lucky." Regina quirked a brow in interest. "I didn't plan on him, but I had Henry."

Regina's face softened. "He changed it all," she said, a statement, not a question.

Smiling, Emma's shoulders relaxed, and she nodded. "He did. I realized all that anger, and regret, and pain—"

"Meant nothing in comparison." The two shared a smile. It was weird, how Regina knew so intimately what Emma had felt from her son. Almost as though she had first-hand knowledge of the fact. She couldn't, right? Surely if she was a parent she would have mentioned it by now, would have been with her child back at the castle.

Shaking her head at the thought, Emma stood up from the table, her chair scraping along the floor. "I, uh, we should probably get to bed. Early start tomorrow, right?"

Regina licked her lips, nodding, and stood, too. "Right," she confirmed.

Heading to the stairs, Emma turned when she felt as though Regina wasn't following her, and found her waiting a few steps back. "You coming?" she asked.

"Go on ahead. I'm going to stop at the washroom," she said quietly, and Emma nodded, leaving her as she walked up the stairs. The room was quiet when Emma entered, save for Snow and Henry's gentle snoring, and she smiled at the sight of her son all spread out in one bed.

Toeing off her boots and pulling off her vest, she nudged at Henry's side until he rolled over, and she could get into the bed. The room was almost dark, save for a small lamp on the table between the beds, and she could make out very little in the room.

As she settled in on her back, she thought about Regina, about the conversation they'd just had. How light and free she'd been as she danced, how they'd teased each other, and how natural it had felt to share such buried truths with the other woman.

The door creaked open, and Emma watched, breathless, as Regina's silhouette moved into the room and closed the door, gently. Emma couldn't look away as Regina gently braced an arm on the wall and slid her own boots off, before slipping off the jacket as well.

Emma suddenly felt embarrassed, guilty, like she was watching something she shouldn't, and she rolled her eyes away to look up at the ceiling. Soft footsteps grew closer to the bed as Regina sat down on the edge of the bed, next to Snow.

Regina tilted her head toward Emma, and though they couldn't make each other out in the darkness, Emma knew she was looking at her, too. She pulled her gloves off, gently, and set them on the nightstand, before slipping her legs beneath the covers, and rolling to sleep on her left side, her body facing Emma's bed.

Closing her eyes, Emma tried to focus on sleeping, her mind having a hard time settling, knowing that Regina was looking at her.

"Springsteen," she said, disrupting the silence of the room.

Rolling her head to the side, Emma asked, "Huh?"

The low light of the lamp between them did little to illuminate her face, but Emma could tell she was smiling softly. "On my iPod, if I had one here. Springsteen."

Emma laughed quietly, trying not to wake the others, and rolled onto her side, to face Regina more fully. "Just him?"

"No," she said simply. Emma started to roll back, but Regina continued. "Bob Dylan. Hall and Oates. Billy Joel."

"Anyone else?"

"Mariah Carey. The Stones. Billie Holiday. Some show tunes. Journey."

Emma breathed out, trying to search out more than her silhouette. "You're indecisive," she laughed.

"It's called being eclectic, Miss Swan." The use of her last name warmed Emma, playful as it was said, and she rolled back onto her back. The fact that Regina shared with her made Emma's heart pound just a bit harder, and she drifted off to sleep with a small smile on her lips.

In the morning, she was the last to rise. Light filtered in through the dusty shades of the window above the bed, and she slid up slowly, her back protesting from the hard bed and the days of walking.

"Late night?" Snow asked, pulling on her vest at the end of her bed. Her tone was light, consciously so, and Emma furrowed her brow a bit.

"Uh, not really." Snow hummed lightly in response, and sat down to pull on her shoes. Looking around the room, she noticed it was just the two of them. "Where's Henry? And Regina?"

Snow straightened her clothes, and smoothed her hair into its braid. "Downstairs, getting something to eat." She tossed Emma's bag at her, a little roughly. "Get dressed and we can join them."

"OK," Emma said a bit warily, and reached down to pull on her boots. "Uh," she glanced up at Snow, "is everything alright?"

After a long pause, Snow sighed, and rolled her shoulders. "Yeah," she said, much more convincingly. "Everything's fine, I'm sorry."

Emma laced up her second shoe, and shrugged. "'S fine, I know it must be pretty stressful."

Snow pulled her bag onto her back. "Oh, it is," she agreed with a small shake of her head, and waited while Emma pulled her vest on, followed by the red leather jacket. Scanning the room quickly, she slipped her own pack on, and yawned before following Snow out of the room and down the stairs.

The dining area that had been so loud the night before was now nearly empty, just a few people scattered about. It was easy for Emma to spot Regina and Henry standing by the bar, talking to one another.

As they reached the counter, both turned to look at them, and Regina gave a small nod to Emma. "Good morning," she said, and Emma could have sworn she was suppressing a grin.

"Morning," Emma said back, her eyes lingering too long on Regina's face.

"Hey, ma. We got you guys breakfast," Henry said, holding out two loaves of bread.

With a grimace Emma took hers, and bit into it unenthusiastically. "You know, I could really go for a Big Mac right about now."

Henry stuck his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the counter. "This isn't a road trip, ma," he teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him, dry bread clinging to her tongue.

"Oh, Miss Swan," Regina grimaced, and handed over the glass of wine she held. "Your table manners are atrocious," she sneered, and Emma smiled at her over the rim of the cup.

The bartender from the previous night walked over, and held out his hand for the key, which Snow handed over with a smile. Emma handed the glass back to Regina, who set it down on the counter. As they turned to leave, the man reached out, grabbing Regina's arm.

"I'm gonna need four more coins for your stay." Regina glared at him dangerously and ripped her arm away from him.

"What in heaven's for?" Emma stepped closer to the counter, standing right next to Regina and eyeing the bandage on his hand as he held it up.

"Damages," he said simply.

"Please," Emma scoffed. "I didn't even break anything. Shake it off."

"Emma," Snow said, warningly. "Don't." Emma stood her ground for a long moment, until another guy from behind the bar walked toward them, standing beside the bartender. "Please," Snow demanded, and Emma leaned back a bit reaching into her pocket for the coins Regina had given her the night before.

Dropping them roughly on the counter, she turned, putting her hand gently on Regina's lower back as they walked out of the inn. Once in the bright sunlight of the day, Regina stepped aside, wrapping her arms around her stomach as the door closed heavily behind them.

Snow ran a hand down Emma's arm comfortingly, and squeezed her wrist. "I'm going to go to that barn, see if we can buy some horses."

As she walked away, Regina looked over her shoulder to sneer at the inn. Henry looked up at her from where he stood between them, and asked, "Ma?" He was getting older, quickly, but there were still things he didn't get, even if he understood them. Emma squeezed his shoulder and waited until Regina met her eyes.

"You OK?" She asked quietly, and Regina glared a moment before she deflated, and nodded curtly.

"Fine." Emma waited, open face prompting her to explain, but she simply tugged at her jacket. Emma slung one arm around her son, and chewed at the loaf of bread in her other hand as they waited. A few people milled around the dirt paths between the buildings, and faint neighing could be heard from the few horses tied to the post in the middle of the village.

"I'm not used to being without my magic. Without knowing I can," she lowered her voice, "defend myself."

"I thought you said you haven't really had much magic since you got back, a year ago?"

Regina eyed her with a small frown. "That doesn't mean I've gotten used to it," she said quietly.

Emma lifted the hand the hung over her son's shoulder, holding it up toward Regina. "Wanna go back in and blast him? I'll give you a boost," she smiled, and Regina's pursed lips twitched.

"Getting confident with your abilities, now?" Regina asked.

Henry looked up at the women and Emma held her bread up, dropping crumbs on him playfully. He groaned, pulling away and wiping at his hair. Emma laughed and popped another bit off into her mouth as Regina bit her cheek.

Emma started wandering toward the barn Snow had gestured to, the other two following, and they took their time on their little stroll. It was a pleasant difference from the purposeful way they'd been traveling, and Emma felt something in her settle.

As they neared the barn, Snow walked out, reins in her hand as she led two horses over toward them. Emma took a final bite of her breakfast and held her now-free hand out as Snow came to a stop in front of them. "Uh, there are only two."

"My, did you get all those skills from your years as a bailsbondsperson?" Regina said with a phony smile.

Giving her an unimpressed look, she gestured between them. "Two of them, but four of us."

Regina pulled her right glove off slowly. "Well, perhaps if you hadn't boosted our bill up to 12 coins for a single room with your violent outburst, we could have afforded four." Glancing at Emma from where her head was tilted down she dropped the snarky tone. "Even if you miraculously knew how to ride a horse, Henry does not. It's safer to do it this way," she said.

Snow smiled as the horse to her right sniffed at her shoulder gently. Both horses had chestnut coats that glimmered in the rising sunlight, though the one to Snow's left seemed to be darker in color, almost black when the light hit just right.

"Actually, they were only willing to sell two anyway," Snow said, turning to face the horses slowly. She held a hand up toward the lighter one, resting her palm flat on its broad neck. "And they said that he," she nodded toward the darker one, "is a bit temperamental."

Emma stepped forward, eyeing the horse, when Regina held out an arm stopping her. "What do you think you're doing?"

Emma looked around before shrugging. "Um, going toward the horse?"

"Are you an idiot?"

Emma gaped. "Uh, I guess, considering I assumed we were gonna be riding them."

Regina shook her head. "A bit of advice, if you hear a horse is temperamental, you don't immediately walk right up to it." She held up a hand. "Stay back," she said more gently, looking between both Emma and Henry.

They backed up toward Snow as Regina waited until the horse looked at her, its ears twitching a bit in her direction. Its tail flicked back and forth, and Regina approached slowly, resting her palms flat against the horse's neck. After a moment, she slid her palms firmly over the course coat, brushing back toward the massive shoulder of the animal.

After a moment the flicking tail calmed, and Regina smiled wide, looking the horse in the eye.

"Um," Emma murmured to Snow standing beside her.

"I know," she nodded, watching Regina fondly. "She's actually great with horses. Has been as long as I've known her," she said wistfully.

Regina brushed the horse with her hands once more, before pushing off gently and backing away, sliding her glove back on. "He's fine." She reached out a hand for the reins, and Snow handed them over. "Did you get something to feed them?" She asked, and Snow nodded.

"In the bags," she gestured to the back of her horse. Regina nodded, and began securing her own pack to the saddle, before reaching out for Henry's and doing the same.

Effortlessly, Emma watched as Regina lifted herself up and onto the back of the horse, her thighs resting on either side of the wide back. "Shall we be on our way?" she asked pointedly, and nodded at Snow.

As Snow got on her own horse, Regina looked down at Henry and scooted back on the saddle. "Here," she said softly, and held out an arm. "Put your left foot in the stirrup, there—good—and grab the pommel here." Henry did as she instructed, and with a little help as she guided him by the shoulder, Henry settled into the seat.

"This is really far up," he said, and Regina squeezed his arm.

Emma eyed both horses warily, and looked at Regina. "Is it really a good idea to put the kid on the temperamental one?"

Regina gripped the pommel as the horse took a few steps in place. "I'm the better rider," she said matter-of-factly.

Snow smiled down from her spot on the horse and held her own hand out to assist Emma as Regina had. "She's right. Henry's safe with her," she said to Regina.

Eyes nearly crossed in concentration, Emma put her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up just as her son had, though the length of her legs made her landing less than graceful. "Careful, Emma," Snow laughed quietly, and helped situate her on the saddle behind her. "Are we ready?"

With a curt nod, Regina spurred her horse forward, toward Camelot.

Emma's ass was numb. Like, full on numb. Shifting, she tried to get comfortable, but Snow's warning, " Emma ," was enough to make her feel thoroughly scolded.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they were moving more quickly. They'd been walking—trotting, according to Regina—for the better part of four hours—with just two breaks—and it seemed like they'd been "getting close" to Camelot for the last half hour of it.

The castle was in sight—had been for an hour now—as they traveled in wide open field. The scenery was a nice change from nonstop forest, but the unfiltered sun above them left Emma feeling just south of comfortable.

"So," Emma started, shifting forward on the uncomfortable saddle. "What's the plan when we get to Camelot?"

"Well," Snow started, "I guess we'll see if anyone can direct us to the stone."

"And they'd tell us? Just like that?" Emma asked skeptically. Wasn't this place a big deal?

"They have no reason to hide it. The sword can only be pulled out by the rightful owner."

"Uh," Emma's eyes widened. "And we don't think that's gonna be a problem? Getting it out of the stone without the rightful owner?"

A giggle pulled her attention, and when she looked over at Regina and Henry, just a bit ahead, she saw his head thrown back in laughter and Regina's fingers tickling lightly at his neck. Smiling at the sight, she shifted once more before relaxing a bit. Still, it didn't change their problem.

"Snow?" She prompted.

"I don't know, Emma," she said sadly. "We'll figure it out, we always do." Emma ignored the implied history, and focused on the fact that Camelot was actually getting closer and closer.

After a few more minutes, they neared a wide bridge, and both horses stilled. Snow slid off the back of the animal, holding her hand out to help Emma do the same, as Regina and Henry also dismounted. On foot, they walked across the bridge and into the small village.

Where Emma had expected to see people out, selling their wares and being social—at least from the movies she could recall—the town was instead almost deserted, with just a few people milling about.

"Is it just me or is this place kinda empty?" she asked, gesturing around at the numerous buildings. The town was much bigger than the village they had been at earlier, but from what it felt like it had half the population or less.

"When the curse that sent us here broke, parts of other worlds were frozen." Snow explained, leading her horse as they walked further into the town. "Most of Camelot was not, and without allies, and ogres still a threat, a lot of them were lost by the time we came back."

An older, frail man walked out of one of the buildings near them as they walked, and Snow slowed and raised a hand. "Hello, sir," she smiled. The man eyed her suspiciously, and tugged his coat closer to his body. "Could you help us? We're looking for…" she trailed off as he walked away from her quickly. "Nevermind."

Regina sneered, passing the horse's lead over to Snow. "You're so naïve," she said a little bitterly, and moved swiftly over to stop the man with a hand on his arm. "I wouldn't run away from me if I were you," she looked at him darkly, and Emma's eyes widened in alarm as she held her hand up, ready to conjure more fire. Geez, what was it with her and that?

"Regina!" She shouted as the first flames flickered, and the man used her distraction to run away from the group, down an alley. Turning to face all of them, Emma held out her hands. "OK, clearly neither of you are the people to do this. How about I do the talking from now on?"

Snow nodded, and Regina eyed her for a long time before she, too, relented an bite out a fine.

Emma looked around, and spotting a woman walking up towards what looked to be her house, Emma walked over to her calmly. "Ma'am?" she asked, with a small but polite smile.

"Who are you?" she asked distrustfully, pushing open the door to her house.

"My name is Emma, and I'm looking for a sword, stuck in a stone?" The woman shook her head quickly, and ducked inside her house without another word, leaving Emma alone outside her door.

Turning, she shrugged, and as she walked back to them, she noticed Regina's quirked eyebrow and smirk. "Thank the gods we have you here to help us," she teased, and Emma squared her jaw at the insult.

The next five people they saw gave similar responses, and knocking on doors had proved to be little more than a waste of time.

Their mission was looking grim.

"You seem to know the most about Camelot," Emma said to Snow. "Is there anyoneyou knew that might still be here, and be willing to help us? I mean, at this point it would make more sense to just start trekking through the woods."

Snow looked deep in concentration. "No, I only knew Lancelot. And that's because he had come to my kingdom." Looking up suddenly she smiled. "Because of a girl, Guinevere. I never met her, but maybe," she looked over to the castle, and licked her lips. "It's a long shot," she warned.

"Well we're certainly wasting our time here as it is," Regina reminded.

The castle sat on a hill, and the climb up there had not been pleasant. Already Emma was missing the horse that had left her so uncomfortable, as she struggled to climb the never-ending steps.

After what felt like hours, the group made it to the castle entrance, and Emma looked up at the imposing door. "So what, do we just knock?"

Snow shrugged, and walked close to the door. "Usually there are guards out here," she murmured, before doing exactly as Emma suggested. The knock echoed loud around them, and Snow leaned away from the wood.

The waited, and when no sign of acknowledgement came, Snow tried again. "Can they even hear us from way out here?" Emma asked.

When no one came again, Regina stepped forward. "I'll get their attention," she said, and held up her hand, conjuring a fireball. With a clean arc she threw it up, high, to be seen over the castle wall, and it landed hard against one of the flags standing on the ledge.

"Regina," Snow said, sounding every bit a schoolteacher, but Regina merely raised her shoulders.

"If there's anyone inside, we can be sure they've noticed." After a moment, the wooden door to the castle groaned open, and a nervous looking guard stuck his head out.

"Are you being attacked?" He asked, looking around behind the group with wide eyes.

"No, but you will be if you don't let us in," Regina said smoothly, the guards eyes widening further.

"Regina," Snow said again, and stepped in front of her, holding out a hand to the nervous boy. "We mean you no harm. My name is Snow White, and I am Queen of the Enchanted Forest." Regina cleared her throat, but Snow waved her hand behind her. "I was hoping to speak with Lady Guinevere, if that's possible?"

The guard started to open the door, but stopped. "Should I ask her first?" he questioned aloud, before standing taller, and trying to appear more imposing. He failed, miserably. "I mean, I need to see if she is available. Wait here," he shut the door with a resounding thud, and Emma tried not to laugh at the weak security.

"What the hell was that?" she smiled.

"I don't know," Snow answered. "But at least we know Guinevere is still here."

"Not for long, judging by how squirrely that guy was," Emma snorted.

The door started to open again, and instead of the guard, a woman stood in the entrance. She was beautiful, and wore a gentle smile on small lips. Her skin was tan and clear, and her dark hair fell around her shoulders in soft curls. The dress she wore was nice, but plain, and when she saw Snow her eyes sparkled.

"Snow?" she asked, looking directly at her. Snow held a hand up in greeting, but before she could say anything more, Guinevere pulled her deep into a hug. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she breathed happily.

"Uh, is this just what princesses do here?" Emma asked under her breath, and Regina's lips twitched.

When she pulled back, Guinevere held her by the wrists and looked past, to the rest of the group. "Hello! Welcome to Camelot." She looked at Snow again. "Lancelot told me all about you, Snow," she said, a little sadly. "Please, come in," she pushed the door open wider, and Emma put her hands on Henry's shoulders, steering him forward into the castle.

"You must be tired from your journey," Guinevere said over her shoulder, as they walked down a hall of the castle.

"We haven't eaten much," Henry said, and Guinevere turned, looking at him fondly.

"Well, I think we can scrounge something up," she said, and continued leading them farther into the castle. A very empty castle, Emma noticed. Besides the guard they'd met at the door, there had yet to see any other staff.

Guinevere brought them through a door, and into a kitchen, where a table stood with vegetables strewn across, loaves of bread, and a few fruits. Pulling stools out from the large center island, Guinevere gestured for them to sit down. "Please," she said sweetly, and Emma sat down beside Henry, Regina to her left and Snow across the wide table. Guinevere walked around the kitchen, pulling out a few items like she was familiar in the space, and setting them on the island as she spoke. "It's so nice to meet you, Snow. I never thought I would, considering…all that has happened in our lands. But it's a treat, I assure you."

Snow blushed, and shifted in her seat. "I'm shocked you even know who I am."

Guinevere looked up from the cured meat she was plating, and nodded, fondly. "Of course I do," she said, slicing the loaf of bread, and adding them to the plates. "You're the reason my Lancelot came home to me."

Startled, Snow asked, "What?"

Nodding, Guinevere continued to cut food, and distribute it between four plates. "He'd left the Round Table years before the curse, because of trouble with Arthur. And how our king felt about our relationship," she said more quietly. "He was gone for almost three years, until one day, he simply came back. Came home." She handed plates around to the travelers, smiling as Henry dug in like the growing boy he was.

Snow's brows furrowed. "I'm not sure what that has to do with me, Guinevere."

"When Lancelot came home, he told me he'd been asked to marry a couple—you and your husband—and that it had made him realize what he had lost. That he hadn't fought for me the way you two fought for each other." She smiled softly, resting delicate hands on the table. "I got the love of my life back, because of you, Snow White. And I've never been able to thank you."

"I don't know what to say," Snow laughed lightly. "I'm glad I could help. But you owe me no thanks, Lady Guinevere. If anything, I owe your husband for all that he did."

Regina rolled her eyes at the flowery conversation, and took a bite of her food. "If we're done fawning over one another?" she prompted. Emma bit her lip, as the agreement almost bubbled out of her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Snow said, and gestured around the table. "This is Regina."

Guinevere's eyes narrowed. "As in Qu—"

"No," Snow said quickly. "No, just Regina. And my—friend, Emma. And her son, Henry."

Guinevere nodded politely, and smiled warmly. "A pleasure to meet you all. Is it alright?" she pointed to the food. "It's nothing grand, but our castle has become rather informal."

Emma brushed the breadcrumbs from her lips and nodded. "It's great, thank you."

"Guinevere," Snow asked, chewing on a piece of cheese, "why is Camelot so…deserted?"

Smiling wistfully, she leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the table. "Most of us were frozen here—by the curse we later found out to be the one that sent you to the other world—and when we were unfrozen, the ogres had been running rampant.

"We were able to fight them for a while, but we lost a lot of men—more than we could spare—and it started looking like we'd have to simply leave." She licked her lips, lost in memory. "Lancelot, he was the reason everyone was fighting so hard. He'd taken over as a leader when Arthur died—before we were frozen—and when we woke up he was an even better man than he had been."

"What happened?" Henry asked, a bit lost.

"A sorceress came, and promised to rid us of the ogres." The soft features of her face darkened, and she bit out, "her name was Cora."

Regina paled beside Emma, and she dropped the bread she was holding back onto the table. Snow looked over sympathetically, though Emma was lost as to what happened. "You OK?" she asked Regina quietly, and she pressed her lips together.

"Yes, it's nothing," she murmured. "What happened? With the sorceress?" Regina asked with renewed interest.

"She poisoned my men against me, convinced them they needed to leave—" she broke off, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she whispered, "she killed my husband."

Regina pushed away from the table, excusing herself quietly as she slipped through the door. Emma started to stand, to follow her, but Snow reached a hand out, and gently said, "Just give her a minute, Emma."

Her sudden distress was unsettling, and Emma warred with herself before she sat back down, doing as Snow had suggested. Guinevere wiped at her eyes, sniffling a small nose, and gave a watery smile. "I'm sorry," she said, and Snow was quick to reassure her.

Emma continued to pick at her food while the other women talked, though she tuned out most of it, instead casting long glances to the door.

"…looking for the Sword in the Stone," Emma picked up, focusing on Snow as she explained why they were there.

"Oh," Guinevere said in surprise. "Why?"

Snow hesitated, looking at Emma, but Emma had no good response to give herself. Biting a lip, Snow shrugged, and said, "It's kind of a long story."

Guinevere laughed, and said, "I have time." At the hesitant faces around the table, she shook her head. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter. I can show you, but it's really nothing more than show, now that Arthur's line is gone."

Before they had to respond, Regina walked back into the room and sat down silently, picking up her food like nothing had happened.

"You know, I think we can find it on our own, if you can just point us in the right direction?" Emma asked, pushing her empty plate forward to rest her crossed arms on the table.

"Oh, of course," Guinevere said. "It's a bit of a journey, though. Are you sure you wouldn't want me to guide you?"

Snow nodded, smiling sweetly. "We're sure. But thank you so much for your help, and your hospitality, Guinevere."

Snow stood, and the others followed, Henry stuffing the last of the food into his mouth before swallowing heavily. "Here," Guinevere said, pulling out a small bag, and placing some of the produce from the table and a large piece of cured meat into it. "For your journey," she said, and handed it over to Snow, who took it gratefully.

She walked them back out of the castle, the halls still nearly empty, and Emma felt a pang of guilt for leaving her. The woman was obviously lonely, but they had a mission, and it was wholly unproductive to pick up others on the way.

Not to mention they still had a dangerous creature out tracking them. Well, Emma thought, anyway. It had been two days, now, without seeing it at all. Was it bound by the Enchanted Forest, somehow? Or could it simply not find them, as they'd been moving around?"

They arrived at the door out, and Guinevere turned to face them. "Please come back if you need anything. I mean it. Or if you'd just like to visit, and I hope you will, Snow," she grabbed Snow's hand and squeezed.

Pulling open the door, she walked through, and pointed South. A sparse forest littered the space ahead. "Head straight South for about twenty miles. There's a clearing, and in the center you'll find the sword."

"Thank you," Snow said again.

"Be careful, Snow," Guinevere warned, and closed the door slowly.

The walk back down to their horses was much easier, but Regina's odd silence put Emma on edge. Snow loosened her horse from the tree they'd left him at, and Regina did the same. As Snow's horse walked calmly where she led, though, Regina's horse stomped the ground, and its ears pinned back.

"What's wrong with him?" Henry asked, the signs of distress obvious and a bit frightening.

"Horses are sensitive creatures, Henry," Regina said, and backed up a bit to give the animal space.

"Regina?" Emma prompted, as Snow pulled herself onto her horse. "Is everything OK?"

"Obviously not," she snapped, looking at her with cruel eyes. After a moment she dropped her head, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit anxious, and it's making him nervous, too," she gestured to the horse that had calmed slightly, but was still irritated.

"OK," Emma said, and held her hands up. "Is there anything I can do?" She let one hand drop to rest gently on Regina's arm, and Emma could see how Regina's shoulders relaxed at the touch.

Breathing slowly, Regina turned to face the animal as Emma dropped her hand back down. The horse's ears had returned forward, and the stomping had quieted. Emma wasn't sure, but it looked like a good sign. "Perhaps," Regina started awkwardly, "Henry should ride with Snow. Since he seems to be rather sensitive, right now," she gestured toward the horse.

Emma shrugged her shoulders, bobbing her head in agreement. "Yeah, sure. I'd feel better about him being on the calmer horse. Thanks," she said, and turned to look at her son, who was petting the lighter horse fondly, as he had seen Regina do earlier.

"Snow?" She looked up from where she had been talking to Henry below her. "Will you take Henry this time?"

"Of course," Snow nodded, though she eyed Regina a bit warily before helping Henry swing up onto the horse.

Regina took a deep breath and approached the horse again, hands held up gently as she made eye contact. This time the beast reacted much like he had earlier, allowing Regina to brush her hands over his neck and then direct him away from the tree.

As she'd done back in the village, Regina swung herself onto the horse gracefully, and Emma tried not to blush as she watched tone thighs flex beneath her black pants. "Emma," she said, and held out a hand. "Put your foot in the stirrup and grab the pommel," she directed, and Emma did as she said, her left hand gripping the leather between Regina's thighs.

Swallowing harshly—and noting that the simple action hadn't been so daunting the first time—she took Regina's hand with her right, and pulled herself up, to land behind Regina. Scooting back as suddenly as she realized how close they were, Emma unzipped her jacket, suddenly warm.

"Forward," Regina instructed over her shoulder, and tugged on Emma's knee resting behind her. "And calm down," she hissed, the horse starting to shift impatiently.

"Sorry," Emma mumbled, and licked her lips as she scooted forward, her thighs spread as she felt her center snug against Regina's ass—a very firmass, Emma tried not to think about.

"Are you ready?" Regina asked Snow, and the other woman nodded before urging her horse forward to take the lead. Regina followed, the movement making Emma slip just a bit further forward on the saddle, and she swallowed deeply.

They were barely twenty minutes into the ride, and Emma was pretty sure she was going to die.

"You have to hold on, Emma," Regina said, irritated, as she gripped Emma's knee, keeping her on the horse as they walked up a small incline.

Emma mumbled an apology for what felt like the hundredth time. The problem was, everything felt complicated now. Where she'd hung on to Snow's sides without thought this morning, the same area on Regina felt like dangerous territory; intimate. Like when she'd held her waist helping her down the mountain.

She kept slipping forward due to the rise in the back of the saddle, and the motion of the horse was leaving her thighs raw from friction, and her mind numb from the very thought. She couldn't hold on to Regina's waist, thighs were worse, and it wasn't as though she could hold on to the reins without practically hugging her and that seemed like the worst idea yet.

Regina, she would bet her life, was not a hugger. Well, except for Henry, it seemed. Still, the thought was a firm no, and that left her with no place to put her hands but on her own thighs, or—as a jerk that landed her fingers close to the small of Regina's back and lower proved that a poor option as well—hanging limply by her sides.

"Would you rather we switch spots?" she asked harshly, and Henry turned to look over at them from his horse, just a bit ahead on the trail.

Emma thought it over—Regina hugging her, her center pressed against Emma—and she shook her head. "Uh, no, no that's OK."

"Then here," she held the reins in her left hand and reached back for Emma's right, tugging on it until it rested, fingers splayed, on Regina's flat stomach. "I don't want to have to stop to pick your body up off the ground," she said, and Emma rolled her eyes.

As they rode, Emma could now feel the minor movements of Regina's body, holding her as she was. Her stomach flexed with each step, and her hips tilted back and forth to follow the horse's movements. Heat filled Emma's lower belly like molasses, and she found her eyes fluttering closed as they moved.

Getting lost in the moment, Emma felt her head tilt forward, and she found herself inhaling the scent of her—mostly earthy, a little musky, but somehow almost clean, like linen and rain. It made Emma shift back self-consciously, painfully aware of how long it had been since she'd been able to take a shower—and boy did she understand their reasoning on getting plumbing here, ASAP—and she prayed that she smelled as good as Regina as she shifted closer.

As they rode, Regina had seemed to calm, and though Emma didn't want to rekindle bad feelings, she was curious about what had happened. "So, back at the castle," she started, and Regina held up a hand.

"I'm fine, now," she said, shutting her down.

"OK. Good, I guess." Clearing her throat, she added a bit of pressure to Regina's stomach, and she felt her suck in a breath. "Just, if you wanna talk about—well, whatever it was—you can."

Regina's shoulders tensed. "I don't," she said. Looking over her shoulder, she murmured, "Not now."

She fell silent, and Emma let her answer rest. After a moment, Regina's gloved hand fell to Emma's on her stomach, before falling away.

By the time they reached the clearing it was almost dark. The ground had become rockier, less even, and they'd dismounted when they could see the break in the trees ahead. The clearing had been just where Guinevere had instructed straight from the castle, and even if they hadn't known where to look, Emma was certain they would have felt it; the clearing seemed to almost radiate power.

Emma felt her skin prickle, and she zipped up her jacket as they walked past the last tree and into the space. Though the light was nearly gone, what was left seemed to be concentrated, focused solely on the center of the clearing.

Glowing with sunlight, in the middle of the ground stood a large boulder, choppy, as though parts had been chiseled off. A sword stood up straight from the rock, embedded between the jagged slopes. Pure gold glittered in the streaming light, the hilt shining, and as she walked closer, Emma could see a small ring of diamonds imbedded in the pommel. The blade was remarkable—beautiful—but almost plain, at the same time.

"Woah," Henry breathed beside her, and she felt herself warm at the wide-eyed wonder on his face. He stepped closer toward the rock, but didn't touch. Instead he knelt down, eyeing the rock carefully. "Ma, look," he whispered and pointed down low.

"Hmm?" she hummed, following him, and licked her lips as she noticed the words that ran around a small ledge near the base of the rock. "Though many hearts may swell with love," she read aloud softly.

The words disappeared around the other side, and Snow knelt down, reading the rest: "Just the most resilient shall release the dove."

Henry stood up, eyeing the blade in awe. "What does that mean?" he asked, this time palming the stone reverently.

"Arthur was able to pull the sword out years ago because he was the rightful ruler of the land," Snow said, her brows furrowing. "At least, that was the story that got passed around the kingdoms. But this," she trailed off.

"Sounds like something else?" Emma finished. Snow nodded, and Emma traced the words before standing up. "Are we sure this is the right place?"

"Contrary to what you might think," Regina said, hands on her hips, "our world isn't littered with immoveable swords." She stared at the rock, shaking her head as she murmured, "this is it."

"So, we just pull it out?" Henry asked, and reached forward, his hand wrapping around the hilt and tugging before Emma could stop him. She winced, holding her breath as nothing happened.

"Henry," Regina said, voice heavy with concern, but Henry simply dropped his grip and stepped back, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Guess I'm not the next King," he joked, though the disappointment on his face was much too real. Emma put her hand on his back, rubbing gently in condolence.

"Do you think—" Snow hesitated, looking up at Regina's quirked brow.

"That it refers to you?" she surmised, her lips snarling at the taste as she scoffed.

Snow's cheeks pinked in shame, and Emma glared over at her. Wondering—not for the first time in the past few days—why they seemed to be getting along less and less. "Hey," Emma said warningly, "it couldn't hurt."

Regina remained silent, tilting her head away as she crossed her arms. Snow shifted, and walked forward hesitantly toward the blade. "It sounds like me and David," she said, swallowing, and avoiding Regina. "And Guinevere told us how our love strengthened this land as well, reuniting her and Lancelot." She tilted a shoulder up, and put a palm on the hilt, breathing slowly. Biting her lip as she closed her eyes, she tugged on the sword, just as Henry had.

And, just as when he had, the blade remained unmoved. "Oh," she said, disappointed. "I guess not."

Emma caught Regina stifling a smirk in the corner of her eye and took a deep breath. "OK, well, there has to be another way. Can we break it out or something?"

Henry and Regina looked at her simultaneously, their faces matching in their exasperation. Henry spoke first, pointing to the words on the rock. "They generally don't write stuff like this if you can just break it out, you know."

"Not to mention the fact that it seems rather obvious such tactics have already been attempted," she gestured to the broken rock.

Emma put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. "Well it's not like we have a lot of options, considering the only royalty here has already tried." Snow looked over at Regina, but remained quiet at her look.

Regina thinned her lips, before gesturing to the sword. "But our Savior hasn't," she raised a brow. "Go on," she urged when Emma looked at her skeptically. "It couldn't hurt, right?"

Emma took a deep breath and dropped her hands, muttering, "Fine," as she walked around the stone. She placed her palm on the rock for balance, and reached for the hilt with her right hand, curling long—and slightly trembling—fingers around the golden handle. Taking a deep breath—and knowing this was stupid—she pulled.

And the sword slid out, with a soft clink as the metal hit against now-loose stone. The blade was heavy in her hand, but somehow also impossibly light, like it was merely an extension of her arm. The hilt felt warm, from sitting in the sunlight, perhaps, and as she held it closer for inspection, she saw Clarent etch itself slowly on the plain gold guard.

"Woah," Henry breathed again, and Emma looked over to where her son stood beside Regina and Snow, his smile radiant. "That was so cool," he said, and Emma snapped out of the moment, stepped away from the rock, still holding the sword.

Snow took a step forward, and set her hand on Emma's arm, looking at the sword. "I knew it, Emma," she said, smiling, and Emma suppressed the urge to point out that—in fact—she hadn't.

The last of the sunlight was fading, the concentrated glow dispersed, leaving the clearing in near dark. "We better set up camp," Regina said from a few feet away, and walked back toward the horses at the edge of the trees.

They got settled quickly, finding a clear spot by a stream, and getting the tent strung as they had the first night. The fire now going, Emma saw in front of it, holding Clarent loosely in her lap.

"Hey," Henry said, sitting down beside her.

"Hey, kid," she set the sword on the ground, and turned her head to look at him. "Did you get the tent done?"

He pulled his legs up to his chest, and rested his elbows on his knees. "Yeah. But Regina did most of it." He looked over his shoulder where Regina was rolling out the bedding, and asked, quietly, "Do you think she's upset with me?"

Emma turned, her face pulling in shock. "What? Why?"

Henry shrugged. "I don't know, she just hasn't been as, I don't know, happy around me? She usually looks at me with this big smile, and laughs at my jokes," he kicked at the ground. "Whatever, it's nothing."

Emma sighed, and put her arm around him. "It's not you, Henry. I think she got pretty upset back in Camelot. I wouldn't worry about it. She seems to think you're pretty great, you know?"

Henry smiled. "She does, right? And in the real way, not like when you 'friends' try to ask me how it's going."

Emma pulled back in mock offense. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

He snorted. "It means you're not as clever as you think you are. And that I really like her." Henry cleared his throat awkwardly. "And that it's OK, you know. If you do, too."

Emma shifted away, dropping her arm. "Oh, I—"

"Don't want to talk about it, just throwing it out there." He started to stand up, but stopped at a crouch and said with a wince, "But maybe you should try and bathe or something, if you're gonna try and win her over."

"Hey, you're no bouquet of roses either, you know, Mr. Puberty."

"Ew, ma," he said, and walked over to Snow, who was digging around in one of the bags by the stream.

Emma laughed softly, and picked up her sword. Henry's comment was ridiculous. Even though she maybe—totally—found Regina attractive, and even though there was definitely something between them—more than magic, she was realizing—it wasn't like she was even remotely interested in "winning someone over".

Besides, they already had one sword; they were halfway to freeing Merlin and getting the hell out of this increasingly messed-up fairytale.

Still, Emma stood, pulling at her wrinkled clothes, and walked over to Regina, crouched by the bedding. "Hey," she said, and Regina looked up, but continued to search through the bag.

Pulling out two carrots, she stood, and looked at Emma. "Did you need something?"

Emma shifted, and pointed at the food. "Hungry? I think Snow's gonna catch some fish."

Regina started to walk away, toward the horses, and Emma followed. "These are for them," she gestured, as she slowed. "Do you need something, Miss Swan?" she asked again.

Emma shrugged, putting her hands in her jacket pockets. "Nope. Uh, do you want some help?" Regina eyed her for a long moment before she broke off the tip of one carrot, and held it out.

"Have you ever done this before?" she asked, fully knowing the answer. Emma shook her head. "Alright. Put the carrot in your pocket for the moment," she said, and Emma did. "Did you see how I approached earlier?"

"Yeah," Emma said, "by the neck?"

Regina nodded patiently. "Wait until he looks at you. And watch his ears. He should be listening in your direction." She gestured at her horse. "If his ears are pinned down, or if he stomps, or his tail flicks, he's in distress. Do not approach him, do you understand?"

"OK," Emma said.

Regina took her gently by the arm, and led her to Snow's horse, a foot away. "Is she looking at you?" she asked. Emma waited until she was, and nodded. "And her ears?"

"They're fine," Emma said.

"You have to be calm. Horses are very sensitive," she warned. "Take a deep breath, and step closer." She guided Emma with a hand on the small of her back, and Emma tried not to let the heat rise to her cheeks. "Put both of your palms on her neck, good," she murmured, standing just behind her as Emma followed the instruction.

Emma took slow breaths, smiling gently as the horse looked at her, its lips chewing slightly. "Is that bad?" Emma asked.

"No," Regina said, her voice more relaxed than it had been all day. "She feels comfortable. Now, push off of her a bit, and step back." Emma stroked the course coat for a moment longer before doing as Regina said.

"Very well done, Miss Swan," she said silkily, and Emma felt a small shiver up her spine. "Would you like to feed her?"

Emma nodded, and pulled the carrot out of her pocket. "Just hold it out?" she held her palm loosely, like a cup.

"Flat palm," she corrected, pulling at Emma's fingers gently. "They have quite the teeth." She smiled dangerously.

"All the better to eat me with?" Emma asked before she could censor herself, biting her tongue and clearing her throat as Regina's breath quickened.

Holding out her arm, Emma stepped closer to Snow's horse. She nosed at Emma's palm and ate the treat quickly, her tongue leaving slime on Emma's hand. "Uck," she made a face, "as if I didn't need a shower already."

Regina laughed, and walked back toward her horse, holding out the other half of the carrot. The horse ate it quickly, nosing at her palm until she broke a second one and fed him again, tossing the rest to Emma.

With a smile, she fed Snow's horse, before stepping back and joining Regina's side. "There is a small toiletry kit in one of the bags," she murmured, eying Emma with a smirk. "And yes, you should certainly make use of it."

The stream was freezing . Emma didn't consider herself weak when it came to the physical, but she could barely wash her body and hair before she was jumping out of the water. Shivering, she slipped on the leather vest and pair of pants she had left by the stream, and picked up the tunic, socks and underwear she had sloppily washed and hung over a tree before getting in.

Her long hair dripped water down her back as she walked back into the campsite barefoot, and put her still-wet clothes over a small log by the fire, anxious to get the layers back.

Regina was sitting by the fire alone, her face serious in thought, and Emma cleared her throat. "There's no way you can zap these dry or anything, is there?"

Pursing her lips, she said, seriously, "I'd rather not waste the magic, should we face any trouble."

Sitting down beside her, Emma tugged her knees to her chest, and tried to finger-comb her hair. "Uh, isn't that what I'm for?" she joked lightly.

"And if you're no longer there to help me?" she asked, face unreadable.

Before Emma could process where Regina was coming from, Henry sat down next to her with a big smile. "I caught our dinner," he bragged.

"Did you?" Regina asked playfully, all traces of her seriousness gone for the moment.

"Uh huh," he smiled. "Put the bait on the hook and everything."

"Well, that makes one fish you'll feed," she teased.

Emma furrowed her brow at the comment. "How did—"

"Henry's quite the little hunter," Snow said, proudly, running her hand over his hair as she brought the gutted fish to the fire, putting it on a flat rock.

Regina looked at Henry fondly. "I'm not surprised," she said softly. After a moment, she stood up. "I'm going to try and get some of this dirt off," she plucked at her clothes with a grimace.

"It's really cold, be careful," Emma warned. Regina looked over and simply nodded, before turning to go.

They ate quietly, the fish Henry had caught small but good, and he beamed with pride the entire time. It wouldn't have been a problem if his new-found confidence didn't also mean nonstop talking about if they could fish when they got home, maybe make a trip, go camping, and so on.

"Really, kid? This isn't enough of the great outdoors for you?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "This is different. It's not fun, it's business." Emma eyed him skeptically, a smile creeping across her face, and Henry surrendered. "OK, it's a little fun."

"Yeah, crazy fun running around fairytale land looking for magical swords," she scoffed, as Regina walked back from the stream, and set her own wet clothing down beside Emma's to dry.

Emma couldn't help but look at her, feet bare as Emma's were, in just her pants and the plain shirt she wore beneath her jacket. Her hair hung around her face a bit messily, and she shivered a bit against the cool air. She looked impossibly small in that moment, and Emma reached down behind herself for her red jacket, holding it out to her. "Cold?" she asked, and Regina sniffed.

Henry went back to talking to Snow, and Emma leaned forward a bit, cocking a brow. "C'mon," she urged, and at Regina's murmured, fine, she draped the leather over her shoulders. She gave a small smile to Emma, and they sat there, warm, listening to Henry.

Emma was reluctant to go to sleep. Part of her was tired, knew she'd be able to rest, but another part of her—a bigger part—wanted to stay, wanted to see if Regina was going to talk to her about why she'd been so upset.

They'd all been sitting around the fire for a while, allowing themselves to rest, and idly discussing their plan for the next day. Henry and Snow had both taken turns bathing as well, before returning to the group and sitting down to warm by the fire.

"Henry," Emma prompted, shifting the knee Henry's head rested on.

"Hmmm," he questioned sleepily, looking up at her.

"Go to bed, kid. Hunters deserve their rest."

He smiled up at her. "But it's nice," he murmured. "Like this. With all of us," he added, and Emma caught Regina brushing her almost-dry hair away from her face, suspiciously close to her eye.

"It'll be nice tomorrow. Up," she jostled him again and Regina helped him sit upright, with a hand on his elbow.

Waving half-heartedly, he trudged to the tent, flopping down on the thin mattress. Laughing, Emma shook her head, and leaned her head back on her arm, propped up by a log behind her. "So," she flicked at the grass beside her. "I don't want to jinx anything, but I guess I gotta know." Snow and Regina looked at her. "Can the wraith not get us, here?"

The light air that had surrounded them faded, and Regina's serious face was enough to make her want to take it back. "Never mind, it's—" she tried.

"It can. It can follow anywhere in this land," Regina said soberly. "But the silver buys us a bit of time." She held out her hands. "It tracks by the mark on our hands," she added. "And these gloves are special; they dampen it, among other things."

Emma raised her brow at the last comment, but let it go as Regina continued. "The more we move, the greater our chances of delaying its return. But it's a vicious creature, and it can't be stopped for good."

"Yet," Emma said. "When we finish this, quest, or whatever, we'll free Merlin and he'll stop it. Right?"

Regina looked unconvinced, but Snow reached over, squeezing Emma's hand. "Right."

"Yes, and then you and Henry will go home." Emma's head turned quickly at Regina's voice. She sounded disappointed, almost, and Emma felt her stomach tighten with guilt. Which was ridiculous—they had to go back. Regina knew that—had sent them away in the first place, after all.

"Yeah," she shrugged.

"Excuse me," Regina said, standing, her arms still stuffed securely into Emma's jacket as she pulled her arms to her stomach and walked over toward the stream.

Emma watched her, her brows tilted in concern. Snow must have noticed, for she put her hand on Emma's wrist gently, and squeezed. "Hey," she gave a crooked smile. "She'll be fine." After a long moment, Snow whispered, "You care about her," so softly Emma could barely hear.

"What?" she asked, but Snow shook her head, not letting it go.

"You do." It was a statement, no room to argue, and Emma felt cornered. But she said nothing more, just dropped Emma's wrist.

Leaning her head forward, arms wrapped tight around her knees, she found her attention straying from the warm fire in front of her to the sometimes-cold woman by the stream. Licking her lips, Emma stood, and gestured toward the water. "I'm just gonna," but Snow nodded slowly, her lips turned down into a resigned frown as Emma walked away.

Regina's back was to her, the red leather looking almost black in the dark, and the moonlight on the stream cast a soft blue tint to it all. Emma slowed, not wanting to startle her, but unsure how to approach.

"I'm not a horse, Miss Swan," she said, looking over her shoulder belatedly. It wasn't an invitation, but it was as good as she would get, and Emma took sure steps forward, before sitting down beside her. "You know, most people take leaving as a sign they'd rather be alone."

Emma angled her legs, pulling them up so her bare feet could lay flat on the grass and holding on to the back of her legs. "I get the feeling you've had enough of that." She said brazenly, as Regina's pursed lips and dark eyes implied. "But then, so have I."

Regina let the comment rest, then, and the two sat in near-silence, the stream quietly running in front of them.

"A part of me wanted to believe that you coming back like this," she kept her eyes forward, watching the water, "meant that it would be a real second chance. That I could start over, with Henry, with you." Emma looked at her curiously, the words heavier than she could understand, but she waited, patiently.

"But even when you're not the Savior," she laughed hollowly, and bounced her head, "you're the Savior." Regina turned her head then, and watched Emma's eyes closely. So closely she felt as though she shouldn't blink. "And I'm the Evil Queen."

Emma jerked her head back a bit, confused. "What?"

"No matter what happens, you will always be the hero, won't you?" Her face was unreadable, caught somewhere between disappointment and awe, and Emma gaped, unsure how to respond. Scoffing, she looked away, her hair falling heavily against her cheek. "That's for the best, I'm sure."

"Wait," she looked down at her legs, trying to sort it out in her head. "You're the Evil Queen? That cast the curse to Storybrooke," she said, skeptically. It made little sense with what she knew about the curse, about what had happened to bring it about.

Snow had said Regina lost as much as anyone because of the curse. Had she been talking about something else? Why would Regina have cast a curse to make her lose? None of it made sense.

"I am," she said somberly, Resignation on her face as she looked out at the river. "I am the Evil Queen."

Emma thought back to their conversation in the inn, the way she spoke about the Queen, about how miserable she had been. It was a startling realization, that she hadn't just know, but she had known the meaning of her words.

There was a sneer on her lips, the twist and the moonlight making her scar stand out starkly. Her eyes were dark and lost, wet with unshed tears. Gone was the radiant happiness she had seen from this woman so recently, and back was the haunted beauty that had greeted her in the clearing.

Emma shifted, suddenly unsure of herself, of everything she had been told about her missing memories. Anger prickled hot under her skin, and she tried to block it out, gritting her teeth a bit as she asked, "So why did Snow tell me you were just some sorceress?"

Regina looked over her shoulder, back at Snow, still sitting in front of the fire. She breathed out deeply, and closed her eyes. "I believe she thought herself to be doing me a favor," she spat humorlessly. "Giving me a second chance by keeping my past a secret. Never mind the fact that I've promised myself I would never go down a path of lies and manipulation like that again. That for me, a real second chance means I need honesty." Regina looked at Emma out of the corner of her eye, hesitant to turn toward her fully.

"It means acceptance for who I was and who I am," she whispered, and Emma was unsure if the words were meant for her, or Regina alone. "She considers me redeemed by simply ignoring everything that went wrong between us and trying to sweep it under the rug. By forgetting my mistakes and not taking responsibility for her own."

Emma found herself captivated by Regina's words, how open she was, and her heart pounded when Regina laughed humorlessly, the sound hollow. "It's almost nice, sometimes." She searched Emma's eyes again, watching her closely for something. "I can lose myself in the pretending, even. But it's not real. It's not forgiveness; it's willful ignorance. And I'm sick of needing to be erased to be accepted."

Licking her lips, she hugged ran her arms over the leather sleeves of Emma's jacket. Fingering the cuff, she murmured, "I had forgotten the difference until you came back."

Without waiting for a response, Regina stood, sliding the zipper down on the jacket and tossing it across Emma's lap as she walked away. Emma turned in the grass, looking toward the campsite to find the fire now out. She watched Regina's silhouette move gracefully toward the tent as she picked up her jacket, the leather still warm from Regina's skin.

Head racing, Emma stayed by the stream, allowing Regina a minute alone as she processed it all. Anger and hurt stung at her, as she realized how Snow had omitted something so crucial, and identified with Regina's need to be accepted for who she really was.

Mostly, she thought about the way Regina had looked at her in the inn as she'd empathized with the Queen who cast the curse. How Emma had defended the very woman in front of her and bared her own soul as she'd done it.

Swallowing deeply at the implications, Emma stood, clutching her jacket and moving toward the tent. Regina lay closest to the fabric of the tent, her back turned to Snow beside her, and the blanket pulled up high on her body.

Heart sinking, Emma took the empty spot—farthest from her—and crawled in, placing her jacket beside her gently. After long moments, sleep came.

The sound of horses neighing woke her. The sky was dark, and as she sat up she felt the air almost ice cold around her. Shivering, she turned, looking around for what had disturbed her, only to be met by the winding whipping quickly on her face.

In an instant Regina sat up, gripping her palm and pulling her glove off. The mark on her hand was burning, her skin turning hot red and the smell of burning flesh filling the air around them.

"Regina," Emma said, panicked, and reached over toward her.

"Don't touch me," she said, voice low and eyes wide. A slow, gurgling growl rang out, and Emma looked up to see the familiar claws and beady red eyes from the first night.

The wraith was back.