Hello, my doves! Thank you once again for the reviews and follows. I'm glad that you are enjoying my little tale. I had the absolute pleasure last night of experiencing Celtic Woman in concert for the second time, so I allowed them to inspire this chapter. Enjoy, Lovelies!

Song: The Moon's a Harsh Mistress by Celtic Woman, Private Parts by Halestorm

Warnings: semi-graphic marital rape


Regina limped around Mary Margaret's tiny kitchen, pulling things from here and there. She and Emma must have eaten very little outside of Granny's. Her nose wrinkled at the thought of the amount of grease Emma had allowed Henry to consume and set to the task of making a healthy lunch while Emma showered. She was grateful for the distraction and the usefulness of her hands, even if for a moment.

By the time Emma banged down the stairs, Regina had grilled rosemary chicken, broccoli sautéed in olive oil, and rice dished onto two plates. Both were covered with foil, Regina unwilling to eat without the sheriff. Emma's eyebrows shot upward, but she said nothing as she removed the foil and inhaled the wonderful scent.

"I think you are the first person I've seen cook something that wasn't processed in this kitchen," Emma commented distractedly around a mouthful of broccoli.

"Miss Swan, swallow before you speak or I'll choke you with it." Regina snapped and then retreated to the table with her own plate.

She stared expectantly at Emma after seating herself. She was determined to teach Emma some manners, especially if she'd be in charge of raising her son from here forward. Her heart clenched with the thought, but she gently pushed it aside when Emma joined her at the table. She didn't deserve Henry anymore, and she'd be killed before her grief could overtake her senses. There wasn't a point to dwell on what she'd lost right now.

Emma tucked into the food heartily, humming or sighing here and there at the different flavors. Regina said nothing but secretly took satisfaction in Emma's obvious pleasure. She loved to cook, and Emma's appreciation, though unspoken, made her trouble to prepare the meal worth it even if it had set her thigh throbbing and burning.

"Regina," Emma started and then set her fork down slowly, alternating her gaze between the mayor's eyes and her half-empty plate. "Can I ask you something about… about my moth… about Snow White?" She forced the name from her lips, still unsure what her mother preferred to be called now.

"If you must," Regina answered and intently watched the different emotions splash across Emma's face.

"Did you always… hate her?"

Regina sighed and sat her fork daintily at the top edge of her plate. She stared at the barely touched food so long that Emma worried that she'd deny her an answer completely.

"No, I didn't," she responded breathily. If Emma had made a sound, she'd have completely missed the admission.

"How did…" Emma cleared her throat. "You know…" She fumbled for words, not because she didn't know what she wanted to ask but because she feared bringing more pain to Regina. She certainly wouldn't want someone, who up until two days ago went out of their way to make her miserable, drudging up the worst memories of her life.

"You want to know what she did to become the target of my wrath," Regina offered, and Emma nodded sheepishly.

"She told my mother a secret that led to the murder of my fiancé," Regina shrugged as if the words meant nothing to her, but her rigid spine and carefully blank face told Emma that she felt it acutely even after all these years.

"But I thought you married the king," Emma wasn't sure she wanted to know the entire story, but she pressed on. Regina was the only person who knew her whole story, the only one who could explain to Emma why she became The Evil Queen.

"You are referring to the story in Henry's book." Emma nodded, and Regina wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"The victors write history, Miss Swan. That doesn't make it accurate or complete." A hint of sadness slipped into Regina's eyes but quickly vanished. "And one day, when my son realizes the world exists in shades of grey instead of black and white, he will have questions. I need you to have the answers in my stead. I'm practically defenseless without my magic, and I've accepted that I will most likely be executed for what I've done."

She pinned Emma with her dark eyes. "It is my last request that you hear my story, every detail, so that my son may love me again even if only in memory."

It was Emma's turn to be silent. It stretched uncomfortably as Regina finished her lunch and then limped to the sink with her plate, but Emma's stomach roiled with thoughts of what horrific things had been done to Regina to make her so angry and violent. This was why Regina had been so cooperative, and Emma was pissed that she had given up, sad that her son would probably lose someone he care for deeply, and guilty that she'd never gotten to know Regina. She, too, had been viewing the world in black and white, sucked into Henry's enthusiasm for his book of fairy tales that told only a snippet of the story and his limited view of the world. They were small glimpses into a person's life, and she'd bought into it, believed it to be an unwavering truth.

"Okay," she whispered and found Regina's eyes across the room. They studied her intently, like she didn't believe she'd heard correctly. "I'll let you tell your story, Regina, but I'm not going to let you die."

"Right, the savior thing." She rolled her eyes and turned back to the sink and cleaned her plate and fork.

"Just leave it," Emma ordered when Regina turned to clean up the skillet and pot still on the stove. Regina's brow crinkled in confusion.

"They can clean it up when they get back," Emma clarified, unable to stop the flare of anger in her voice. She was scared that she'd never see her parents again, but she was angered far more by the fact that they had done something to another human being that turned her into a sociopathic whirlwind that caused the entrapment of an entire population and decimation of a physical realm. While Snow's betrayal couldn't be the whole story, it was the catalyst that set the events into motion.

"I'm packing a bag, and then we are going to go to your house and search through your magic stuff to see if there is something we can use to open a portal. We should probably see if we can return Sneezy's memory, too. Poor guy."

Emma bounded up the stairs before Regina replied. Regina returned to her task of cleaning the dishes she and Emma used. After searching through cabinets, she located a container to dump Emma's unfinished lunch into, hoping Emma finished once she calmed a bit. Despite her affinity for Granny's cheeseburgers and fries, Emma's form had thinned from the well-muscled, athletic woman who returned Henry to her that night almost a year ago. She'd had a hand in the sheriff's raggedness, sure. She wasn't the only one, but she had been the only one to admit it.

She waited patiently by the door for the sheriff to return, clutching Emma's lunch. When she appeared at the top of the steps, Regina immediately noticed the red rims of her eyes and the anxiety splotches over Emma's face, neck and chest. She hadn't really needed a bag but she needed to cry. Regina's chest clenched painfully, but the only indication that Regina had reacted at all was a rough swallow and a solitary clench of her jaw muscles. Emma barreled out the door without speaking, and Regina was grateful for the savior's own aversion to emotional vulnerability. Because if she had looked closely enough, Emma would have known how tightly Regina's chest felt and exactly what it meant. It was the same reaction she felt when Henry was upset or in any sort of danger. It was the reaction of someone who cared for another's wellbeing above herself, and it terrified Regina. Since when did she care what happened to Emma Swan?

The rest of the day was filled with dusty books and trinkets from Regina's vault. She'd been correct in assuming Emma would finish her lunch soon after they'd started working. After they'd collected any relevant item from the Mills Mausoleum, Emma wandered into the kitchen and returned with the freshly heated plate in one hand and two mugs of coffee in the other. She practically collapsed on the floor in front of the coffee table and filled her jaws like a chipmunk. Regina accepted the proffered coffee silently and pretended not to notice Emma's unstable emotional state.

"This is pointless," Regina's frustrated voice filled the study as Emma swallowed the last bite of rice.

"Got a better idea?" Emma sniped.

"Gold. Rumplestiltskin. I'm certain he knows of something we've missed, but it will cost us. He isn't particularly fond of me, and I understand you already owe him a favor." Regina rubbed her leg absently as she spoke. The infernal thing burned terribly, and she knew she would fare far better in less formal clothing.

"How the hell did you end up in bed with him?" Emma hadn't meant it literally, but Regina flinched anyway. Her dark eyes spared a glance at the sheriff, but Emma was too lost in her own thoughts to notice her reaction.

"Are you prepared to listen to the story of my life, then?" Regina asked hopefully despite her best efforts to check her enthusiasm.

"There's nothing better to do. If you say there is nothing here that could possibly help us, then… Well, I really wouldn't know the difference, would I?"

She pulled her fingers through her unruly hand in frustration and leaned against the sofa. She'd felt many things during her life, but helpless had never been one of them. Even as a foster kid, she'd been resourceful, finding what she needed and taking what she couldn't get honestly. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins, comforting herself through her ignorance of the magical world.

"If you aren't opposed, we could try and tap into my magic again. It's there, I can feel it. It simply refused to obey my commands." Regina suggested casually. It was the only thing they hadn't tried.

"Are you going to burn me crispy if it suddenly starts listening?" Emma tried to joke, but the question came out far too seriously for either of them to ignore the risk.

"I… I don't know," Regina answered honestly after a few minutes of quiet consideration.

"Well, okay then." Emma reached across the table, palm up. She cursed the slight tremble in her fingers, knowing full well that Regina saw it.

"Magic is driven by emotion, Miss Swan. Try and conjure whatever you were feeling when you touched my arm." Regina explain formally, slipping into Mayor Mills easily.

"I don't know what I was feeling. A wraith was trying to soul suck you, so I wasn't exactly doing a lot of self-analyzing." Emma wasn't frustrated at Regina. It wasn't her fault, but her own failures dug deeply and she wanted to hide them from Regina.

"Just try," encouraged Regina as she hesitantly slipped her hand into Emma's.

The sheriff jerked at the contact, surprised by the warmth of Regina's hand. Someone so cold shouldn't have such warm hands. Regina shifted uncomfortably across the table but said nothing as she stretched her other hand towards the fire place, eyes squinted in an effort to light it. She squeezed Emma's hand painfully and tensed her outstretched arm.

"Light, damn you!" She whispered angrily at the fireplace. After a few more tense moments of concentration, she dropped her hand and threw the book in her lap at the cold hearth. Emma pulled back, her back hitting the frame of the sofa painfully.

"Hey, whoa, it's okay. Calm down."

"You do want it to work, don't you?" Regina seethed and reached for Emma's hand again, but Emma only stared at the manicured finger nails that had scratched her neck the previous night.

"My magic originates in my rage, Miss Swan. I am in complete control, I assure you." Emma studied the dark eyes glaring at her and then slowly placed her hand in Regina's once more. The grip was painful, but she allowed Regina to express her anger in whatever manner she saw fit, knowing she could best her physically if not magically.

It was an exercise in futility that only served to work Regina into a frenzy with no catharsis. Regina stood and paced with her hands on her hips, mumbling beneath her breath. Emma followed her to her feet when she noticed that Regina no longer limped. She had surely pulled a stitch loose or came close, and Emma knew she needed to calm down.

"Regina," she caught the other woman's attention and then held out her hands to show she meant no threat. "It didn't work. We'll find another way. Please, just calm down."

Regina turned away from her and pressed a hand into the mantle, supporting her weight. Emma paused when she realized that she wasn't afraid of Regina's anger anymore, but she was terrified that Regina would lose herself to it. This was what she'd felt last night. She was afraid for Regina, and perhaps, maybe she cared for her in an odd way. If she touched her right now, perhaps they'd make magic again. Emma wrapped her arms around herself and held tightly. She didn't want Regina to have magic anymore. She didn't want to lose her now that they've made actual progress towards becoming allies if not friends. She'd never had someone to rely on before, and she refused to destroy that. They'd find another way to bring her parents back.

"What happened to your fiance?" She asked suddenly and squeezed herself tighter, giving Regina all of her attention. She'd think about her parents later.

"He was murdered." Regina answered immediately, and Emma realized it as a stalling technique.

"How?"

"He…" Regina cast her eyes towards the dark fireplace and offered Emma a profile of her beautifully haunted features. "My mother tore out his heart and crushed it when she found out we were running away to be married." Regina's deep voice strained against the words and the emotions associated with the memories.

"Jesus," Emma breathed before she could stop herself.

"I watched him die," continued Regina. "I held him as she crushed his heart. He was my true love, my chance at real happiness. I wasn't certain I'd ever love again until I found Henry."

"That was the secret Snow told?" Emma prodded gently when Regina became lost in the grief.

"She discovered us in the barn and asked why I was kissing another man when I was promised to her father. We connected so quickly, like sisters, that I felt I could trust her. She was a child." Regina stated the last part bitterly, and Emma watched her slipping into a black hole of self-pity.

"So you were you, Regina," Emma surprised herself with the amount of compassion she offered the woman who had made her miserable for the past year, the literal evil queen. Regina must have noticed it, too, despite her despondent gaze.

"I was the same age you were when you gave birth to Henry, Miss Swan. You and I both know how much life can be lived in 18 years, how much pain can be endured." Her words scratched with indignity, but the parallel between them had been spoken aloud. Neither moved to discredit their shared understanding of grief and loneliness.

"I gave him up for a reason," Emma confessed gently as tears stung the back of her throat. She swallowed them angrily and pressed her nails into her sides. She'd never cried much, but she found that the less she had to do physically, the more she wanted to release emotionally. Maybe she was simply going insane and imagined the shaky truce and flimsy trust established between her and Regina.

"So, you married the king," Emma nudged her forward.

"I did. Mother forced me. I tried to escape several times, but she placed a barrier spell around the castle, similar to the one around Storybrooke." Regina waved her hand around the room emphatically and then dropped it, limply, to her hip.

The muscles in her back and shoulders rippled with the effort of maintaining control, and Emma nearly reached out for her, taking two steps with reaching hands before stopping abruptly. Regina turned, her only inches from Emma's now. Her eyes were darker than usual and searching for something within Emma's. Emma wanted to help her find it, but she wasn't certain either of them could handle what they uncovered if they let themselves go. She wrapped her arms around her waist again.

"How was it broken? Maybe we can find a way to break it here. It would take some of the pressure off if people had the option to leave." Emma's voice was quiet instinctively in the close proximity, but this information was the first glimmer of hope Emma had seen since her parents went through the portal so she ignored everything else.

"I didn't break it," Regina whispered, and unlike Emma, she recognized her voice patterns for what they were. If she spoke too loudly, the connection she felt with the other woman might be destroyed. This is the way lovers spoke or so she assumed. She twitched uncomfortably but held steady eye contact as the anger released from her shaking hands and heaving chest.

"I pushed her through a portal that Rumplestiltskin provided. When her magic left the realm, all of her spells were broken." Regina explained hastily in that same quiet tone that made her already deep voice rasp and rumble sensually.

Emma finally realized the intimacy of the moment and pulled back, retreating to her forgotten coffee and the sofa for protection. Regina sighed at the savior's inability to connect emotionally to another adult. She tried so hard to let Emma in, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep opening herself up if Emma refused to hold her together. Her anger flashed for a moment before dissipating as Regina reminded herself that she didn't need to be held together. She'd be dead before her mental breakdown could destroy her.

"It was my wedding day." Emma's head whipped up at the quiet confession. If she hadn't believed Regina before when she said she wanted to share everything, she believed in that moment.

"Why didn't you run away then if you didn't want to marry the king?"

"Rumplestiltskin," Regina snorted and rubbed her hands together. "Everything I've done began with his influence. It took me several years to realize that imp manipulated every decision I'd ever made from that day forward."

"How? I can't see you being so easily duped, Regina. You're the freaking queen of manipulation, pun completely intended." Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing. Had Gold actually caused the curse and let Regina take the fall for it?

"He's a very patient creature. He waited months after that day before making his move. He waited until… until I was broken." The last part was so quiet that Emma had to read Regina's lips to catch all of the words.

"Broken how?"

"Leopold, your grandfather, was a gentle man, maybe even a good man, but even good and gentle men have limits to their patience and grace. He didn't force me to consummate our marriage on our wedding night, which would have been traditional and expected. I asked if we might come to know one another before we sealed our union, and he agreed. When he made no move to advance our physical relationship, I thought perhaps being a good mother to Snow White and a good wife in every other way may be enough for him. It might have been, but I was waiting for Rumplestiltskin to come take me away. Oh, how terribly naïve and stupid I had been." Regina laughed at her younger self, but it was hollow, and Emma found herself wishing she'd met young Regina.

"He never came, so I decided to search for him. I ran away, not very well, I might add. The royal guards found me within a day and returned me to the palace. I'd never seen Leopold so angry.

"Regina!" Her name was followed by the slam and echo of her chamber door. Leopold rarely visited her here, and never during the middle of the night as per her wishes.

"Leopold, I'm sorry. There was someone I needed to see." Regina explained, hoping that the benevolent king would understand her anguish.

"I don't care!" His face flushed beneath his white beard and his hands shook as he barely controlled his rage.

"Leave us!" He shouted, and the two guards and maids shuffled from the room quickly.

"Do you realize how you embarrass me, Regina? Haven't I been kind to you? Haven't I waited for you to come to me, to care for me as I do you? You have repaid my kindness by shaming me!" He knocked over one of the candelabras, and Regina gasped and stood at the sudden noise.

"I never meant to shame you," she cried, suddenly fearful that she truly had made a mistake that could not be undone.

"It ends today," he promised, voice gruff and clear. "You are my wife, and you shall act as such."

His quick strides covered the distance between them in a heartbeat. The fabric of her dress gave way under his rough hands in rips and screeches as the fabric was torn from her body. Her cries for forgiveness were ignored completely, so she stopped begging. Her instinct of self-preservation, however, would not be so easily overcome, and she struggled against his efforts. The skin of his neck peeled away beneath her fingernails, and then everything went dark and hazy.

At first, she was confused about why she was lying on the bed until the skin around her eye throbbed as she regained her senses. Leopold had struck her in anger and now straddled her hips as he bound her hands tightly with a silk cord ripped from the canopy of her bed. Before she even thought to struggle again, the cord was attached to the nearest bed post. She struggled until her wrists chaffed and bled, but it was useless.

He removed his dagger from his belt and cut the corset and underclothes from her body. She sobbed quietly and tried to cover herself, never having been naked in the presence of anyone but her maids and her mother before. Perhaps he only meant to humiliate her as she had him and would leave her like this until morning. The thought comforted her for only a moment until she glanced at the man who had been so kind up to this point and saw that he had removed his clothes, also.

He gripped her knees roughly and knelt between them on the bed. He rubbed himself slowly, watching the terror in her eyes the entire time. Why couldn't she ever be good? Mother had warned her of the dangers of being disobedient, why hadn't she listened? She bit her lip and rolled her eyes away from him when she felt his lips on her breast. The sensation might have been pleasant if she hadn't been so terrified. Daniel had brushed his hand over her once while helping her from Rocinante and then kissed her deeply, and it had left her burning with a strange and uncomfortable but pleasant burning ache between her legs for the rest of the day.

This wasn't the same. Her body reacted similarly, but it wasn't pleasant. It was a betrayal. If her own body betrayed her, she had lost hope for any other human being. She cried out when he pushed into her. It was more painful than she could have imagined. Why were people so obsessed with love making when it hurt so very much?

"You are not a maid," he said suddenly once he'd inserted his entire length.

"I am, s-s-ire. I swe-ar it," she gritted through the pain and tears.

"Then where is your maidenhead?" He leaned in close as he spoke, his hot breath puffing against her chest and face.

She tried to explain that she'd bled and ached one day after riding one day in the previous year, but he jerked inside her. All words were lost to the pain as he slammed into her painfully, relieving all of his frustration in the pounding of his hips against hers. Regina wanted to close her eyes, but they refused. They would not allow her to escape her reality, pretend his touch was Daniel's.

Instead, they found the nearly full moon outside her window. It shimmered and tossed purple hues over the clouds that passed near, almost the color of her mother's magic. It would be her escape. Magic would be her saving grace. It was that thought that sustained her as he squirted inside of her with a grunt and then collapsed onto her chest.

"Oh Eva," he sobbed into the skin between her breasts, and Regina flinched at the mention of his dead wife. The sudden reentry into her reality crashed through her with the utterance of that name, and she knew that no matter what she did, she would never be good enough to replace the king's true love.

Regina fell quiet as her story came to a close. During her tale, she'd curled onto the sofa across from Emma and talked into her coffee cup as the events of that night flashed behind her eyes as though they had only just happened a moment ago. Emma could only stare at the beautiful broken woman across from her. The book had been so wrong about Regina. Sure, she'd done some pretty shitty things, but she wasn't evil, she was tortured and lashing out.

"Regina," Emma started, but her voice was so thick with emotion that she couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Are you hungry, Sheriff? It's nearly dinnertime." Regina jumped up from the sofa and left the room.

Emma listened to the refrigerator open and close, and then the scratch and bang of a skillet being set on the stove, but she only stared at the place where Regina had previously sat. She wanted to run to her, hug her, and tell her that she would tell their son how the world had abused her, but she sat, unmoving but the shallow breaths filling her lungs. Anyone, even Snow White, may have turned to magic for comfort if they had suffered through what Regina had, and this was her first story, the first in a long line of many to come.

Was Emma strong enough to listen? She wasn't sure, but she vowed that she would do her best to be what Regina needed. If she was the savior, then she needed to save everyone, including Regina. How could you save someone from their memories?