Snow is gone in the morning- which is probably for the best, Emma thinks, guiltily recalling several hours of rambling about every failed relationship she's ever had and how Regina is the worst- not even a relationship because would she even call it that? No, because Emma knows better than to date another psychopath and really she's had a boyfriend who'd left her pregnant in prison and he's still nothing in comparison to Regina, who cursed a town on a whim and turned her last boyfriend to stone and really doesn't have any positive attributes aside from how much she loves Henry and probably her boobs, if Emma feels like being honest, but…
Snow had listened patiently and looked pained throughout and she'd left at the crack of dawn so she wouldn't have to hear anymore about her former evil stepmother, probably. But she'd also been sympathetic last night and plenty understanding- well, in between grimaces- and knowing her history with Regina, had gone above and beyond friendship in letting Emma vent that much.
Snow is a gem, and she probably doesn't deserve to be subjected to Emma again until at least after breakfast, probably. She considers skipping breakfast altogether, holding off on seeing Regina for just a little longer and not having to cope with whatever vengeance the queen has in mind for her insolence, but she's even more certain that Regina would be equally smug at her absence as she would her punishment. Regina thrives on weakness, and Emma can't afford to show her any more than she already has.
So she changes and heads back down to the dining hall and takes her seat opposite Henry, and when Regina stares at her, she meets her gaze impassively and continues working on her eggs. It's easier to restrain her anger and hurt when Henry's in the room, counting on her to be the, well… sane one who doesn't go around turning the people who piss her off into stone. Still, she's cutting her bread into chunks a little too savagely, taking bites with equal parts hunger- she'd skipped whatever dinner Henry and Regina had taken last night after the incident, and she's gotten spoiled by the daily elaborate feasts in this castle- and tamped down frustration.
"Henry, what is on your agenda today?" Regina asks, but her eyes are still on Emma and her fingers are playing along the edge of her knife almost imperceptibly.
Henry gulps down some juice. "Snow says that the weather is nice enough that we can go out to the lake and swim today. Emma's going to come, right?"
"Well, I'm sure Miss Swan would hardly pass up the opportunity to spend more time with Snow White." Regina's stare is flinty and unyielding, the barest sneer curling at her lips.
Emma frowns, more confused than offended. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"They're just friends, Mother!" Henry interjects, looking far more frantic than the situation warrants, and making Regina's eyes narrow even more with his immediate defense of Emma.
Shit. Shitshitshit. She's tense suddenly, not even sure why this is so worrying but certain with every millimeter that Regina's eyebrow raises that this is getting worse and worse. "Henry, I'd love to spend the day with you, first and foremost," she says quickly, and only then does she remember that she's the injured party here. Regina's on the offensive now, but Emma holds on to her fury, lets it blossom to fruition with every silent moment. "That is, if your mother allows it," she finishes, her voice frosty as she looks back up to meet Regina's glare.
A shadow passes behind Regina's eyes- for a moment there might be apology there, but it's gone as quickly as it's come- and she jerks away from Emma's gaze, glancing back to her son. "Actually, I've found you a new guard to fence with," she says, her voice dripping with honeyed falseness. "You'd better begin immediately. There's no need to meet your tutor at all today, actually."
Henry's eyes go wide. "What did you do to her?" he says, just as Emma snaps out the same question. Regina has it in for Snow today- more than usual, anyway, and Emma can barely bite back her accusations in Henry's presence. If Regina had chosen to take out her rage at Emma on Snow, if Snow's in danger or worse-
"Don't be ridiculous," Regina snaps, her voice pitched just slightly higher than natural. "I have better things to do than worry about that imbecile. Now get to the armory before I decide that this guard isn't good enough for you, either, and you go another week without any fencing."
Henry opens his mouth and Emma kicks him under the table, thinking better of antagonizing Regina any more when she's in such a…dangerous mood.
And there's the other problem with being involved with Regina, she muses as she follows Henry down to the armory. No matter how furious Emma is with the queen, Regina still holds all the power in her hands. There's no equality in a relationship like that, no vulnerability on Regina's side, and Emma is helpless to do anything but stew in impotent rage and keep everyone else out of the crossfire.
They meet Snow standing in front of Prince Charming's statue, murmuring words that Emma can't make out beyond a despaired tone and Regina's name, but Emma's just glad to see that she's been left unharmed. "No, Regina hasn't spoken to me at all today," Snow says, seemingly puzzled at their concern. "I wonder if…" She bites her lip. "Never mind."
She doesn't offer to join them in the armory and doesn't explain why, just heaves a sigh and leans back against the statue that was once her husband.
The guard introduces himself as Gareth and is kinder than Emma would have expected after Graham's bitter sarcasm, but this is Regina, after all, and her priority is Henry's happiness. He tests Henry's grip and invites him to choose a new sword better suited for his size, and Henry follows with a grin wider than Emma's seen on him in a while.
One of the maids that Emma vaguely remembers from the kitchens is perched on a stone chest, gossiping gleefully with the guards milling the room, and Emma leans back against the wall, listening as unobtrusively as she can while keeping a watchful eye on Henry and his new teacher. "Pippa went in to clean her room this morning and she said that she didn't even sleep in her bed last night! Can you imagine?"
A guard snorts. "I heard she spent the night on one of the upper floors. Probably cursing us all with something gruesome after that attempt at dinner."
"What's worse than her last curse?" the maid retorts, and there was a bout of coarse grunts at that.
"Gout, probably," the guard says, and the laughter thrums through the room, still low enough that Henry doesn't hear.
Regina. Emma frowns, irritated despite herself. Regina had slept on one of the upper floors last night. Who had she sought out, to replace Emma in her bed? What new toy has she found?
It's only later in the day, still simmering at this new information, that it occurs to Emma exactly what Regina might have been doing. She climbs back up to her room, feeling rather presumptuous about her theory, and sidesteps the breakfast cart still waiting for her to lie down on her bed.
It's thick and heavy with Regina's perfume, and she sighs and curls up against her blanket and closes her eyes, trying not to think about what might have happened there last night. If Regina had come here to confront Emma, or if she'd…?
She doesn't know what to think, so it's easier not to think at all and to just inhale the traces of Regina's scent on her sheets and close her eyes for a while, just enough to drift off into a slumber wracked with dreams of an evil queen whom she's better off not knowing.
When she wakes up, there's a new tray in her room and a message from the resistance alerting her to a meeting that night. She crumples it in her fist and shoves it into the mashed potatoes beside it.
"I am sorry about it," Belle says, but there's only the barest hint of apology on her face, and she's looking anywhere but at Emma as Emma paces the length of the cell. "I don't have any control over what they choose to do. And they do have to use every advantage at their disposal to destroy the queen."
"You have control over Rumpelstiltskin," Emma points out. "He listens to you. He cares about you! And if you tell him that this kind of wide-range attack is-"
"I won't," Belle cuts in, and there's something fierce in the way she tosses her untidy, matted hair and sits back on her hard bed. "The queen is evil, Emma. She must be stopped. At any cost."
Emma scowls. "And Rumpel isn't?"
Belle twitches, uncomfortable. "I can see the good in him, the potential for him to be something better than he's become. Regina is beyond help now. She's black and cold and vile. There's no capacity for redemption in someone so immovable."
No. She can't believe that. She can't afford to believe that, not when Henry loves his mother so much and she gentles around him. Not when Emma's still alive to doubt her.
"She's not…" Her voice is dry, and she swallows, uncertain again. "Maybe she's irredeemable. But she's capable of love. And that has to mean something, right?" It sounds unconvincing even to her. She's chased some pretty sick people over the course of her career. Plenty of them have loved their wives or children or parents. It's never made them any less loathsome.
Belle is giving her a knowing, pitying look, and when she finally speaks past Emma's flush, it's kind. "You've been in close quarters with her for a long time. You haven't had much of a choice but to try and find good in her, I suppose."
Emma squints at the girl. "Are you accusing me of Stockholm Syndrome?" It's almost laughable to hear it from the girl who's shacked up with Rumpelstiltskin in the past, even as it tugs at all the uncomfortable places that the knowledge that Regina holds all the power in their interactions does, too. "Look, I don't know what you've heard about Regina and me, but I'm not compromising myself to coexist with her. And I'm not going around finding reasons why she's really a good person underneath it all." The implication is clear, and Belle's eyes narrow at the unspoken words between them. "I know she's terrible. I'm not trying to stop you from stopping her-"
"Aren't you?" Belle cuts in, and Emma looks away. "Look, Emma, I do like you. I think you can help Rumpel in ways that no one else has been able to before. But if you don't distance yourself from Regina, the resistance will have no qualms with hurting you if you're in the way." Her face is guileless, her determination clear. "Please, don't doom yourself for a queen whose only strength is in our suffering."
There's only one question left, and Belle's finally without answer when Emma asks it. "And what about Henry?"
The damning silence is enough to send impotent fear through her.
She might not be able to protect him by spending every moment of the day with him, watching servants warily and diving in to taste his lunch before he can take a bite, but she's determined to try, to both Henry's and Snow's bemusement. Henry shrugs and accepts the fact that Emma's now walking him to meals and snapping at the guard he's fencing with and interrogating Snow on every step of their day together, pleased enough just to have the time with his birth mother. Snow levels knowing gazes at Emma but doesn't question her caution at all.
How many other times had Henry been targeted by the people? Snow won't talk about it beyond confirming that this isn't the first time, and Emma's tense with the knowledge that this compassionate-eyed boy who might grow into a king would be so reviled by both strangers and people within the palace.
If the resistance wins, she'd thought foolishly that she might take him in. She can't be a mother- she doesn't know how to be a mother- but Snow will be queen, won't she? She's basically raised Henry from birth and he'd be as beloved as his tutor and Emma won't have to watch shadows in the candlelight for threats. But the resistance has classified Henry as accomplice instead of pawn, and now she isn't certain he'd even make it out alive.
She knows that Regina won't survive at all if Rumpelstiltskin has his way, but that realization sends a funny kind of nausea through her system and she'd rather not dwell on it at all.
Regina is now the only one she'll trust alone with Henry, certain that she can and will protect him from any threats, and she finds herself loosening up at last at dinnertime each day, laughing with Henry and allowing herself to breathe. Regina's comments to her from the night their food was poisoned still burn nearly as much as her bare skin does whenever Regina brushes past her, but Emma's preoccupied enough with Henry's safety that she can overlook them and avoid any time alone with Regina, opting to spend her days with Snow instead.
The more Emma smiles at dinner, the sharper Regina's criticisms are and the darker her glower grows, and she's icy and unfriendly and mocking to the point of biting hatred now. "Really, Miss Swan, it's clear enough that you're useless without having to display it in front of my son," she snaps after Henry tells them how Emma had nearly gotten herself impaled with an arrow that day.
Which isn't fair, because she's actually shown some serious aptitude with a sword and Snow had handed her the arrow upside down so of course she hadn't noticed that the arrow had been pointing the wrong way! She'd been far more preoccupied with a suspiciously close guard who'd been collecting arrows from the next target than she'd been the task at hand, anyway. But she doesn't say any of that in the face of Regina's scathing ridicule, too weary of tension to add even more to this table. "Okay, Regina," she finally shrugs, indulging her.
"You will address me as Your Majesty." Regina's spoon is melting in her hand, the soft metal losing its shape and sliding down onto her plate as a purple mist envelops it, but the queen doesn't seem to notice. "I am your queen now, or has that dull brain of yours forgotten that already?"
Henry squeaks in alarm, glancing from his mother to Emma and back again to his mother. "Henry, if you're finished, you'd better head up to your room," Regina says coolly, her eyes not leaving Emma. "It's getting late."
"I'll go with him," Emma says quickly, standing with so much eagerness that her chair nearly tips over.
They've made it across the main hall and up the stairs before Regina catches up to her. "I think you've taken enough liberties with my son already, Miss Swan." She bites out her name like it's a curse, and Emma chews on her lip, trying to swallow any responses snarky enough to get her into more trouble with the queen.
"Mom, I'm going to bed. Hours early, even." Henry clutches Emma's hand, oblivious to how it makes Regina's hands curl into fists. "Can't Emma just come upstairs with me? She and Snow and have been telling me a story about-"
"Enough!" Regina barks out, and it's so harsh that Henry stumbles against Emma, staring at his mother as though she's never rebuked him before. Emma squeezes his hand, her own ire growing at his fear. "Henry, to bed. And I don't want to see either of those hapless idiots in your room tonight at all. Is that understood?"
Henry's grip is so tight on Emma that her hand is falling asleep. "Mother-"
"Is that understood?" Henry unravels in the face of his mother's fury. His face crumples and his eyes well up immediately, and it's all Emma can do not to antagonize his mother any further before he half-runs, half-climbs up the remaining stairs and around the corridor to slam the door to his bedroom shut. Whatever grudges have faded over the past week are back in full force with the sound of Henry's fading footfalls, and suddenly Emma is clenching her fists and trembling with rage as Regina stares back at her with a glare bordering on murderous.
She doesn't care.
She storms up the stairs without checking to see if Regina's following, and when the other woman makes it to the hallway it's just in time for Emma to grab her by the arm and swing her against the hard stone wall, her eyes flashing and nothing but fury clouding her mind. "You don't take out your issues with me on Henry, you hear me?" she hisses in Regina's ear, an arm rising to trap Regina against the wall. "I don't know what your problem is, and I don't care, but if you even think about treating Henry like you treat me ever again-"
The other woman is breathing hard against her, the fury that had been on her face melting away into something that might have been guilt, but Emma's beyond caring. "Don't tell me what to do," Regina says, but she can't seem to muster up that imperious superiority that had been there before. "I'm-"
"You're a self-centered tyrant who doesn't deserve a kid like him!" Emma snaps, and then Regina is suddenly gone from her grasp and reappearing a few feet away, her back to Emma as she stalks toward her own room. Emma follows, undeterred. "And what the fuck is up your ass lately, Regina? You're treating me worse than you treat Snow, and that's-"
"Oh, and it's all about your precious Snow, isn't it?" Regina sneers, and the anger is back, coupled with contempt she doesn't attempt to conceal. She waves a hand and her door slams closed behind Emma with as much force as Henry's had moments before. "You can't seem to stay away from her these days." Now it's Regina who's standing in front of Emma as Emma's backed against the door, her voice low and predatory. "Tell me, what is it about that insipid little girl that you could possibly find appealing?" She's still breathing a little too loud and quickly and Emma can't look away from the image, the evil queen dominant and threatening. Unbidden and completely inappropriately, her eyes shift to Regina's lips.
Regina's eyes dilate and she twitches a finger, and Emma is suddenly on the bed, Regina still inches away. The queen's hands are on her waist, sliding around to trace the contours of her hips as she whispers, "What could she give you that I can't offer." It's a question with no need for an answer, and Emma curls her own fists into Regina's dress as the other woman's teeth nibble at her neck.
She can't. She can't let herself do this, not after what Regina had said last week. She still has some dignity, still has some mastery over herself. And she isn't Regina's toy to be pulled out and played with and insulted and baited. "Regina, we-"
"Has she ever…" Regina's fingers are tracing her inner thigh now, and Emma can feel herself weaken, common sense defeated by lust and the constant need to get closer to Regina that dogs her every move with her. She doesn't want this now, but it's hard to remember that when Regina is filling her senses, intoxicating and overpowering at the same time.
"Regina," she whispers again.
"I thought I told you to call me Your Majesty," Regina hums against her neck, and whatever hatred had been dripping from her voice until now has faded into a quiet contentment.
"Regina, stop." Regina stops immediately, drawing back enough that she can sit on her bed facing away from Emma, her back rigid and her arms tight around her frame.
Emma winces despite herself, closing her eyes in exasperation. "Look, if this is why you've been so crabby lately…" Regina stiffens even more, and Emma tries again. She doesn't owe an explanation to Regina, but she can't help but try to ward off the visceral distaste at Regina's insinuations. "You know that Snow's only a friend, right? I'm not interested in her like that." Really, really not interested. "And…I mean, that goes both ways. She basically treats me like she treats Henry, so either there's nothing between us or you've got a fairy tale princess child predator on your hands." She laughs, but Regina doesn't move, her spine still straight and her hands clutching at her sides.
So Emma decides to go for broke. "But seriously, what the hell? I don't owe you anything, and you can't treat Henry or me like that. I'm not your plaything- no matter how much you might think otherwise," she adds, scowling at the ceiling. "And I thought we were past the days where I was your prisoner, too." It's probably a mistake to remind Regina of those days spent locked in a room at the queen's discretion, but Regina isn't moving to assert her queenship again, or demanding that Emma leave. "I'm here because of Henry, and because I really do care about Snow, even if it's not the way that you think."
She isn't interested in running anymore- though she does miss city lights and cell phones and transportation that doesn't try to throw you into mud pies because it thinks it's funny. This ridiculous, impossible place has become her home, somehow, and she can't imagine being anyplace else without the people here.
She doesn't say she's here because Regina is here, but sometimes it's easy to think otherwise, unwise as the feeling might be. Regina is impossible and stubborn and has a cruel streak that borders on childishness half the time, and somehow Emma can't stop thinking about her, can't stop craving her in ways that should really just be physical. Regina also loves her son and has moments where she actually does seem to want to be better and she has been known to surprise Emma, once in a rare while.
And perhaps it's most surprising now, when Regina's fingers loosen their vice-like grip around herself and she murmurs, "I'm sorry."
"What?" She isn't sure that she's actually hearing what she thinks she's hearing, and she scoots back to sit against Regina's pillows, watching the profile of Regina's pained face as the queen speaks again.
"I never meant to…I never meant to imply anything about you. You're not mine, and you're certainly not my plaything." Regina bites out the word with disdain. "You're important to…Henry, and I'm grateful that he has a friend, unconventional as you might be. I suppose I was attempting humor, but it was in poor taste." She ducks her head. "I really have been sorry."
She looks a little amazed with herself and Emma can't help but share that amazement. She'd expected Regina to wait for forgiveness or demand it- and Regina is always demanding, that much Emma knows to expect- and for things to go right back to where they'd been. She doesn't expect the queen to sit bent over on her own bed and take full responsibility for her actions.
And maybe it's that amazement that leads her to slip a hand into Regina's and tug her over to her, lacing her fingers through Regina's as she waits for Regina to keep going. Regina sinks into the bed, finally meeting Emma's eyes directly. Emma gazes at Regina, at the unfathomable depth in those dark, sorrowful eyes, and when Regina speaks again, she nearly jumps.
"I used to be different," she says haltingly, her palm warm against Emma's and her heart writing stories across her face. "Weak. Stupid. But different." It's the closest she'll get to admitting that she was once the girl from Snow's stories, and Emma aches at the loss on her face. "Magic was power. Magic saved me."
"Magic corrupted you." Emma regrets it as soon as she says it, but to her surprise, Regina smiles brokenly and raises an eyebrow with none of the usual sting.
"Now don't you understand why I wouldn't burden you with it?"
Emma's too stunned to retort, too struck by this new, remorseful, bordering-on-humbled Regina who's surrendered more of herself tonight than she can imagine Regina ever has before. "I need to speak with Henry now," Regina decides, but it's several more moments before she extricates herself from Emma's grasp, and it's with a quiet wonder that they both share. Regina has surprised herself tonight, too, it seems.
She's at the door before Emma finally finds something to say, and she clambers out of the bed and clears her throat so Regina will turn and look at her. "So, uh… are you saying I'm weak and stupid?"
The smile curls up her lips before she can restrain it, and Regina laughs. It's low and hoarse like she hasn't laughed in years, and it's beautiful. "Emma," she says, and she's walking back toward the bed until she's standing directly in front of Emma again. "You are undoubtedly one of the most foolish people I've ever met." She kisses her sweetly, and Emma has to remember how to make her heart beat again when it's over.
She remembers doubting this whole…thing…they have, remembers being certain that a relationship as imbalanced as this one would never last or be anything other than Regina's to own. She had been certain that Regina held all the power here, that Regina had no vulnerabilities to speak of and Emma was the one at risk.
But standing here, her hands comfortable on the queen's hips as Regina's head drops to rest against her shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed against Emma's neck, Emma wonders if she might have been mistaken.