thanks again to Race for her beautiful work and Miricleo for being so positive. Thanks for your patience while I get my update schedule back.
Only magic got them to Granny's without being late for brunch, and it turned out to be perfect timing. Mal, Lily and Henry appeared in a swirl of silver smoke before they could even step into the diner.
Henry took one look at Regina and almost threw himself into her arms, relief all over his face, and Emma resolutely pretended her eyes didn't sting at the surge of emotion she always got when their son and his mom were happy. It hit home just how much better Regina felt too, watching her hug Henry tightly, her smile practically blinding.
Mal and Lily were more reserved, but Emma caught the sparkle in Mal's eyes and a soft nod in her direction. Emma mouthed 'thank you' in return.
She had to marvel just a little at the turns her life took where it felt normal to walk into the diner, Regina at her side. Henry hurried in front, his stomach rumbling loud that enough Regina teased him about it. Mal held the door for Lily to follow. The five of them moved to a table and sat down without the awkward shuffling that probably should have occurred - would have occurred with her parents. Emma still wasn't sure what that meant; she just knew she was grateful. Warmth and lightness in her chest had been gone for so long that she'd forgotten what contentment was.
Ordering was quick - most of them had the menu memorised, and Mal found breakfast food so strange that Granny usually just brought her sausages and bacon, sliding an extra plate with the eggs or hashbrowns she never ate toward Henry for Emma and her son to squabble over while Regina and Lily shared matching looks of amusement.
It was normal, silly and familiar. Emma allowed herself to think about more days like this: a future where her weird family did things like eat breakfast and talk about chores and jobs and no one was screaming or bleeding and there were no emergencies. Where it was calm. Where she could be calm.
"Lily's thinking about taking a job here," Henry announced around his waffles. Swallowing to avoid a pointed look about manners from his mom, he nodded to where Lily walked back from behind the counter, heavy ceramic mugs balanced easily in her hands from where she'd made their lattes with the shiny new espresso machine Granny still pretended she didn't understand. Emma knew better, and she guessed Lily did too, but Lily explained the machine, smiling and relaxed. Granny watched her with a too-knowing look and a smile of her own that might have been smug. Emma just stayed quiet.
Moving around the table, Lily passed coffees over to Emma, Mal and Regina without spilling a drop. It brought back memories of another cup of hot cocoa, a ruined white sweater and borrowing a shirt a long time ago. Emma smiled into her mug, ruining the pretty leaf pattern that Lily had made in the foam and making noises of appreciation. "Good coffee."
Lily shrugged as she sat, then sipped her own drink. "Mrs. Lucas asked me to explain some stuff about the new machine and then offered, that's all. It would be part-time and it's not like a real job, just some work while I get settled." She managed a little smile when she looked up. Regina reached for her shoulder, wanting to keep that smile on her face. "Yours is decaf," she said softly.
Emma and Regina thanked her while Mal stared skeptically at her drink. "I don't know why you would want to serve people hot milk with wriggly patterns. It's not like you need money," Maleficent said, taking a cautious sip, her features twisting in preparation for it to be terrible. She ran the coffee over her tongue, her face smoothing. She took another sip. Emma met Lily's eyes across the table and saw her friend trying not to laugh.
Dragons trying coffee - what even was her life?
"It would be nice to have a job," Lily answered, looking to Emma for help. "Makes you part of the town. Everyone else has a job."
"I don't," Mal said, as if only now realising that was the case. "Perhaps I should ask the town to pay me for all the repairs that I have facilitated," she said archly. She lifted her coffee towards Regina. "How are such workers usually compensated?"
"Pretty well," Emma said. "Usually they don't work on Sundays, or holidays and-"
"I've repaired streetlights on a Sunday," Mal said, looking to Regina, who had to nod because the three of them had worked non-stop to make at least the core of the town functional again. There was still a lot to repair: all the outlying houses still needed electricity, parts of the harbor needed to be smoothed out and dredged. Ursula had offered to help with the harbor, and it would only be the work of a week or two more (without Sundays) to have everything finally neat again. Of course, they still had the deadly creature to hunt down, whatever that was, and two funerals to plan, but for Storybrooke that was practically normal.
"And I've compensated you," Regina reminded her, her eyes pulling at the corners in what Emma knew was her tell that she was trying not to smile. "You have a bank account, that you've never checked, and you pay for groceries out of that."
Mal raised an eyebrow, turning to Henry in realization. "You used my money to pay for our ice cream?"
"Mom said I should, because you wouldn't make the effort to understand how the system works here. I can teach you about ATMs and debit cards though, if you want."
Sitting up straighter in her seat, mildly affronted, Mal sniffed. "So I have a job and money."
"You're part of the municipal works and magical defense team and are compensated appropriately," Regina explained. They'd talked about this, but Regina had told Emma that Mal wasn't big on details 'unless it came to spells'. She had little patience for what she called 'human nonsense' but it was still kind of adorable to see her dealing with small town bureaucracy. Mal had even signed the paperwork Regina referred to but she'd clearly forgotten the whole thing.
"You could do that, Lily," Mal suggested.
"I could," Lily answered easily, purposely keeping her smile small instead of openly grinning at her mothers. "But fixing the town is only some of the time. At least, hopefully." She sent a meaningful glance at Emma who could only share the sentiment. "So I could make coffee too." Lily shrugged. "I like making coffee. It's easy, it makes people happy, and I would get to meet people in Storybrooke on better terms than landing as a dragon in their front yard."
Mal patted her arm, and nodded in sympathy. "Your landings have improved greatly, dear."
Emma tried to smother a laugh at the expression on Lily's face. Henry didn't even try. Under the table, Emma's hand slipped across Regina's knee and squeezed her fingers, the answering grip and soft rush of emotion from Regina flared bright and hot and so, so happy. Emma didn't need to look over to know that Regina was smiling, practically glowing with affection. This was what Emma had missed all her life. The tiny minutiae of strange family conversations, even if they involved Henry and Lily trying to decide if the town center should have a landing pad for dragons, or if the parking lot by the supermarket was big enough. Perhaps part of it should be blocked off.
Regina and Mal joined in the discussion about upgrading Storybrooke's infrastructure to make it all more "accessible to Storybrooke's non-human citizens" but Emma just let their voices wash over her, content to just be still, Regina's thumb absently stroking the back of her hand softly.
Of course it couldn't last.
The bell above the door signalled someone entering but it wasn't until Emma heard familiar voices that it registered who had walked in. Even without seeing them, she tensed, Regina's hand squeezing hers as she turned. Sure enough, Snow, David and a very fussy little Neal had arrived. The angry, savage part of Emma took a petty pleasure in how tired her parents looked, Snow even paler than usual with huge circles under her eyes and David definitely dragging his feet. Neal must have been teething, judging by the level of unhappiness he projected loudly into the cafe. Emma cringed at a particularly high pitched cry.
Granny stepped out from behind the counter, offering her arms and Snow reluctantly handed the kid over, heading toward the restroom while David went to drop himself heavily into a booth. Unfortunately, even in Granny's practiced arms, little Neal still fussed. Everyone in the diner tried to go on about their meals but it was incredibly difficult with the constant crying. Mal's forehead began to grow so furrowed that Emma was about to suggest they all just go home. - they were practically done anyway - when Mal apparently decided she'd had enough.
With her usual fluid grace, she stood back from the table and strode across the room to stand by Granny who - to Emma's surprise - merely nodded once and shifted Neal a little toward Mal. Emma was dimly aware of the rest of the diner suddenly going quiet. David stumbled to stand from his seat, colliding with the tabletop and cursing while Mal just cocked her head, studying Neal's red, tear stained face. Then without warning she bent down, kissing his damp little cheek softly.
The crying ceased. Like a switch had been flipped, Neal's eyes opened and he blinked, the redness fading from his skin, and little burbling sounds coming from his mouth. David - halfway across the room - practically stumbled to a halt, an expression of shock on his face that was practically cartoonish. Tiny chubby hands flailed in the air, as if reaching out toward Mal, and the dragon's expression softened into something incredibly gentle and sweet.
Which of course was just when Snow returned from the restroom.
Regina used to dream of mornings like this - well not like this exactly. But she had imagined what it might be like to be happy. This kind of vibrantly happy: with Henry smiling at her and someone by her side that she trusted, loved. In those dreams it had always been Daniel, or a nebulous face that only mattered as a placeholder. Not even in her farthest flights of fancy had she ever imagined it would be Emma at her side, holding her hand. The sweet, sharp rush of happiness in their magic was never more than a single breath away now. She certainly hadn't ever considered carrying Emma's child, nor having Maleficent wrinkling her nose at coffee while their adult daughter tried to hold back a laugh.
It was beautiful in a way that couldn't feel real. So when Snow White walked in the door, her son crying in her arms, Regina - just for a moment, just a tiny fraction of a second - considered cursing the damned woman to oblivion all over again.
Just for a second, it was mostly just a reflex action, really.
Emma left her seat, heading for her brother as her parents hurried over (oddly more concerned that Neal had stopped crying than they had been when his crying had continued). He was a less agreeable baby than Henry had been, and part of her wondered if she should offer to help. She had gotten Henry through his teething, but Snow had the rest of the town to fuss over Neal.
He reached chubby fingers for Mal's face, smiling a wide, wet, two-toothed grin. She reached out and took him from Granny, lifting him up so he could giggle into her face.
Catching her mother's arm, Emma tried to calm her parents. Neal, oblivious to the history of everyone around him, continue to burble at Mal as if she were the most wonderful face he had ever discovered.
"What's wrong?" Lily whispered to Henry, her voice low and worried. "She made him stop crying. Is this more anti-dragon crap? Mom would never hurt a baby. She's not like them."
"Zelena took my uncle right after he was born," Henry explained, sitting up straighter. "My grandparents are pretty protective of him."
Regina forced herself walk slowly to Emma's side, but now everyone in the cafe watched Mal and the baby. Neither of whom had noticed that they were the center of attention, because Mal was having just as much fun making faces at Neal as he was laughing at her.
"He's fine, Snow," Regina insisted. "She used a little magic to make his gums stop hurting. It's harmless."
David looked from Mal and his son to Regina, unconvinced, and Snow's worried expression softened, just a little.
"It's a dragon thing," Emma added. "Like aspirin."
"Babies can't have-" Snow started to protest and her panicked look returned.
Emma groaned and shook her head. "Not aspirin, magic, and he's fine, listen to him."
"He's six months old," David argued, bristling behind his wife. "He's not a good judge of character."
Reul Ghorm advanced from the corner of the room, slipping into their circle like a snake. Regina hadn't even noticed, but she'd apparently been Snow and David's companion for their meal.
"Are you sure easing his teething is the best use of magic?" the Blue Fairy asked, her face a mask of concern. "I understand he was uncomfortable, but all magic has a price."
"Perhaps yours does," Mal answered, still holding little Neal up and making nonsensical sounds at him. "Mine is less constrained."
"Even your magic isn't limitless," Blue said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"The tiny amount that it took to ease the baby's gums is hardly worth your concern," Mal insisted. With a final curt glance at Blue, Mal handed Neal back to his mother and returned to the table with Henry and Lily without another word to Snow or David. Emma's eyes followed her before they fixed on her parents, hard and cold.
"That kind of dragon magic is harmless," Regina assured Snow, because she knew Snow and David had reasons to be so overprotective of Neal. "Mal's used it on me."
"When you were sick," Snow realised. She looked Regina over appraisingly, the way she did when she was deep in thought. It was a queen's stare, even though she'd never become one. "You look better."
"Thanks to Emma and Maleficent."
"Oh?" Snow studied her daughter, handing her son off to David. The way he looked at Mal was still less than polite, but Regina didn't expect much from the two of them. "Your healing magic is improving then, Emma?"
Regina smirked and looked at the floor because she would have loved to explain how Emma had 'healed' her last night. Snow didn't notice. Neither did Emma, and she didn't return Regina's smile. Something was wrong, and Regina's stomach tightened not with nausea, but with worry.
"Well, I supposed I appreciate that Maleficent eased his gums. We haven't been able to find much that helps him." If Snow had left it there, they could have all sat down, gone back to breakfast, and perhaps Emma's anger could have stayed buried.
Snow had never left anything when she should have. Maybe Regina should have found a way to impart that lesson when Snow still looked up to her.
"Still, I'd appreciate it if she didn't pick up our son without asking us first," Snow finished.
Emma's hand reached for hers and Regina squeezed it. Anger welled in her stomach, chasing away her concern. This was hot and seething, like lava beneath the stone surface of a volcano. Regina's grip on Emma's hand tightened, because it wasn't Regina's anger. Emma was furious, and she kept it back, yet it was only stronger buried. Regina felt it, shared it, and their entwined magic rose in response, readying itself for a fight. Regina's heart beat faster, and her mouth started to taste of metal.
"What?" Emma asked, her voice so deep it was ragged.
"It's really not polite to pick up a baby without asking the parents' permission first," Snow said. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You'd understand, if you had a baby."
Regina wondered if slapping her to stop the conversation would have been better than what was about to happen, but she couldn't move. Emma's anger rushed over her in waves, and her palms itched with fire.
Emma's gaze fell over Lily and Henry, sitting together with Mal: the three of them unaware of what roiled in Emma's chest. Regina tried to soften Emma's anger through magic, thinking of how much they loved their son, how they'd protect their daughter. She focused on softness, on her love and trust for Emma, and the way Emma's smile lit her face.
It wasn't enough.
"I see. Did you ask then?" Emma asked, and everything in the question was a trap. Regina couldn't do anything. Perhaps she didn't want to, because it was her daughter that suffered. For all Regina's mistakes, her horrible acts, Lily didn't deserve to suffer.
"Did I ask who?" Snow wondered, her expression blank and confused. How many times had Regina wanted Snow to walk right into this kind of trap? Only now, she wanted it to stop. Emma deserved better than this.
"Did you ask for Maleficent's permission before you took her baby away?" Emma demanded, making each word a knife. Her green eyes burned, merciless. "You took her from her bed, didn't you?"
Snow's expression crumpled, and hitting her would have been kinder. "That's not-"
"You did," Emma interrupted before Snow could finish. "I've seen the memory. I was in it. You took Lily while Maleficent was asleep. How is that different from what Zelena did to Neal?"
A fork clanged down to the table with the resonance of a church bell.
"Emma," Regina said, touching her arm. "We should go outside." Even resting her hand on Emma's shoulder made their magic crackle, preparing for a fight that wasn't going to require it.
Emma stood still and steady. "Why? Do we need to hide what they've done?"
The Blue Fairy watched them all, and though she hadn't spoken for some time, the way she watched Emma's fury was almost hungry. Regina didn't have time to worry about that, because Lily had gotten to her feet, and Henry's eyes caught hers, looking for help. "Mal doesn't want this," Regina reminded Emma. "Neither does Lily."
"So they've forgiven them," Emma said, her fingers tensing in Regina's. "I haven't."
"Emma, we didn't know," David insisted, coming to Snow's defense as he always did.
"Yes, you did." Emma released Regina's hand, and her whole body went tense, rigid like glass. "You decided to sacrifice another child. Anyone would have been innocent, but you chose Lily because her mother was a monster? Or just convenient?"
"It's not that simple," David argued, but Snow held him back with a hand on his shoulder. Neal had noticed the tension in the voices around him and his chin started to wobble. Having a screaming baby in the middle of the argument would be the icing on the cake. "We thought Lily destiny would be that ofa villain, letting her become the destroyer was the most fair."
"Fair?" Emma repeated. "How is that fair? What if Lily's fate was to save a village or become the protector of a kingdom? You don't know, and you tore her from her mother to change her, and me."
Neal started to fuss again and this time Granny rescued him from David. "I'll take him," she said softly, and Snow met her eyes just long enough to nod. Then she focused on Emma. "We didn't know."
"Bullshit," Emma snapped, and her anger radiated through her like cracks ripping through ice. "You decided that cheating my fate was worth sacrificing Lily, and because of you, she spent thirty-one years without her mother, and that didn't have to happen. She could have been with Maleficent. So fine, I was fated to be separated from my family, but she didn't have to be. She could have had her mother. You took that from her and now you act like Mal just touching your precious prince is going to hurt him. You stole a child." Emma struggled for breath, her throat closing with tears. "I know how much Zelena hurt you and how much you say putting me in the wardrobe did, but you did that, you inflicted that pain, and you don't see it. You think you're above that somehow, don't you? You've justified it."
Emma shook her head, her eyes wet with sudden tears. "And I can't. Do you understand that? I can't tell myself it's okay, because I'm safe, because that's not enough of a reason to ruin someone's life. What happened to Lily is awful, and she should have never had to go through that, and you keep saying that you did it for me. Maleficent's forgiven you, but I can't and when you act like nothing has happened, like there's nothing you need to make right, but I don't know how to do that. I don't think I can."
Shattering like obsidian, Emma turned and left her parents reaching after her. She lifted her hands and vanished, teleporting away with an accuracy born of anger, far from everyone who'd been watching her. Regina could teleport after Emma in a heartbeat but Emma's magic roiled, betrayed and confused. She wasn't ready for company, or to be soothed. She needed to be angry first and she'd been holding on to it for too long. Emma had been so worried about the town, then Regina being ill, then pregnant, that she hadn't had time to process.
Worse, she'd been in Maleficent's memories and felt the weight of Lily on her chest, listened to her delicate breathing and then the agony of her absence. Regina desperately wanted to go to her; she needed to, because she wanted to calm her, to tell Emma that it wasn't her fault, that she'd had no control over what happened to Lily.
Instead, Regina stood facing Snow, while her family waited for her at their table. She wanted to race after Emma, to hold her and soothe her as best as she could. She was a heartbeat away from following, but Mal stood and met her eyes. Lily looked at Henry and also started to stand but when Regina shook her head, she kept her seat. Regina could have hugged them both.
Blue raised an eyebrow and something about the look on her face made Regina's mouth go dry. Why was she pleased? Maybe that was the wrong emotion to ascribe to her expression, but everything about her presence made the hair on Regina's neck stand up. Getting away from Blue only made going after Emma more pressing, but Snow and David stared at her, as did the rest of the diners. She couldn't just chase after Emma. Mal tilted her head towards the woods. She'd go after her.
Regina nodded to Mal, her chest tight. She'd stay, play nice, make sure Henry and Lily weren't too upset.
Snow took Neal back from Granny, holding him close because this child she understood, at least for the moment. Regina and David shared a look but she didn't know how to help them see how upset Emma was and why their apologies weren't what she needed. She ached for Emma, but Regina couldn't get through to her hard-headed parents any better than she could.
"Being the saviour is difficult," Blue said, and she must have meant to sound wise, but Regina couldn't help thinking that she sounded more smug. "It's a lot of weight for Emma's shoulders. Some resentment is only natural."
Blue patted Snow's shoulder and, with David and Neal, they returned to their booth. They'd mutter in hushed voices and worry without listening to what Emma had said. The only positive was that Neal had stopped screaming. Maybe that was worth him being the catalyst of the argument that had been waiting such a long time.
Back with her family, Regina rubbed Henry's shoulder, and squeezed Lily's warmly before she sat back down. Her breakfast had gone cold, and the pretty leaf on her latte had become a tepid swamp of espresso and milk. Her pancakes she could reheat with magic, but the coffee she didn't know how to save. The familiar scent of apple pancakes should have been delicious, and she had been hungry when she'd ordered, now on the other hand, her stomach decided it still had some rebellion in it, after all, even after the binding spell. It was almost pathetic after how bad it had been earlier, but it made finishing her food a tedious prospect.
"Is Emma okay?" Henry asked, and Lily's eyes followed his, fixed on Regina with deep concern.
"She's angry and betrayed," Regina began. She knew Henry understood what that was like. "Those feelings are hard to work through, even when you have the time to think about them. Emma's been so busy-" She shouldn't have had to worry so much about Regina and the baby. The timing was terrible.
"This is not your fault either," Lily interrupted Regina's thoughts. "Before you end up on the 'this is my fault' bandwagon, just, no. Emma's parents made bad choices, and other people's lives were ruined. Blaming ourselves or them, even if it is their fault, isn't going to make anything better. We can worry about what happened in the past, or we can be happy now."
Lily's heavy sigh gave away how hard she worked still to believe that. "At least, that's what Mom says, and she's doing it, I guess. So maybe that's what we should try."
Henry nodded with Lily and then looked at his mother, his eyes far too wise for his limited years. "I am really happy. You're better, Mom." (His smile made her heart soar). "Lily and I talked about comics at Mal's and she knows a few that I don't where the artwork is amazing, and she can draw, just like the comics when she wants to. So that's cool. It's better than I thought having a sister."
"Little brothers aren't as annoying as I was told, too," Lily teased, nudging his shoulder.
"And Ma's so relieved," Henry finished. "She was so worried about you."
"I think we all were," Lily added, toying with the handle of her plate. "Being sick's really sh-" she stopped and corrected herself, "not fun."
Regina smiled at them both; this was perhaps the first time she'd been alone with her children. She reached across the table, patting both of their hands. "Thank you for looking out for me."
"Always," Henry promised, turning his fingers to grasp hers. He smiled at his mother then turned that easy grin towards Lily. "We're family."
Emma had brought them to a thick, dark part of the woods. Good for ruminating, but she didn't turn when Mal appeared behind her.
"I wanted to be alone," Emma said, putting as much malice as she could into her words. Almost impressive.
"You're alone," Mal said, putting her hands on her hips. "I mean, well, you were, and now I'm here. Feel free to try and fireball me out of existence if it'll make you feel better."
Emma sighed, or sobbed. It was difficult to differentiate. "That won't work."
Mal took a step towards her. "I know. Too bad for you."
Wrapping her arms around her chest, Emma shook her head, still not turning around. "I still don't want an audience."
Shifting through space so that she stood at her side, Mal nodded. "I've always always tried to avoid them, yet they barged into my castle, no matter how terrible a reputation I built up. Little queens wanting to learn magic," (mentioning Regina did make Emma's eyes appear less lost), "desperate peasants trying to save their precious goat, afraid someone had cursed their best mule." She sighed dramatically. "Or doomed their children."
Turning her head, Emma looked at Mal, her mouth slightly open. "Children?"
Mal nodded. "As you are well aware, people will trade anything for their children's safety and medicine in the Enchanted Forest is not what it is here, and even here, it's barbaric. Rather than let certain individuals take advantage of that desperation, I helped them, when I could."
"And you could?" Giving Emma something else to focus took the tension from her shoulders.
"Using magic to heal a broken leg or cure a fever is not difficult or taxing. Better that I demand they steal some useless trinket from my own cave-"
Emma's eyebrows rose. "Your own cave?"
"Very few peasants had the presence of mind to connect the witch on the edge of the forest with the dragon sorceress who lived so far above them in her stone castle." Mal smiled, those were pleasant, amusing memories. "Many farmers crept into my cave so loudly that they would have woken the dead. I'd twitch my tail and pretend to be on the verge of waking while they'd rummage through piles of treasure, painfully loudly, might I add, before they returned to my little house."
"They couldn't have been that stupid," Emma insisted. "There are pictures of you."
Mal smirked and shook her hair, allowing the horns she'd made part of her image for such a long time to rise from her head. "Maleficent the powerful sorceress had frightening horns on her head that mirrored the ones she wore as a dragon. The nameless witch did not."
"You sound like it was a game," Emma said, shaking her head. "What if they failed? Did you eat them? Refuse to help their children?"
"I ate a few goats," Mal admitted. She missed goat, it had such a unique gamey flavour. Maybe the old wolf could be convinced to put it on the menu in her tavern.
"What about the children?"
"If they couldn't pay the witch, I kept them."
"Kept them?" Emma's expression hardened again and the pleasant smell of flame rose in her. She did anger so well, this one. "You kept their children?"
Mal led Emma to a fallen log and sat, pointing at the wood beside her. "What would you do for Henry?"
Her expression softened, and Emma tried to follow Mal's train of thought. "Anything."
"As any responsible parent would. A parent who flees from a sleeping dragon the moment she moves or balks at the price of curing a fever, is often a parent with too many children already, or one who does not appreciate what they have. When I kept their children, I trained them to be the servants and guards for my castle. They were well looked after, even if they did fear me unnecessarily."
"And you did this for years?" Emma wondered, thoroughly distracted from her self-loathing for the moment.
Mal had to shrug. "Centuries I believe. I didn't keep a ledger. It's far easier to raise a servant than train one. In my castle, I could make sure they knew their letters and figures. Out in those villages, they were lucky if they could make a cross on a piece of parchment. It was all worth it simply to annoy the pesky, little, self-righteous twits who twinkle and jingle around-"
Emma almost smiled at that description. "The fairies?"
"I like to think that I stole a few of the Dark One's bargains from him as well." Mal folded her hands in her lap and Emma finally sat beside her.
"Why isn't that story in Henry's book?" Emma asked after a long silence where she stared at her boots. "That's a nice story."
"The author is not interested in what makes a good story, rather what divides his petty vision of good from evil. Dragons who raise the children of peasants do not fit neatly into either of those categories." Mal nudged Emma's foot with her own, drawing her attention. "You can craft your own story, no matter what the insipid book and Reul Ghorm have predicted for you. Be as angry as you need to be, burn it off, fuck it off," Mal paused, grinning, "destroy some rocks. I like to see how hot they have to be before they melt or explode."
Emma finally chuckled, and it was still almost a sob. Her throat must have been so tight.
Mal smiled at her, wishing she could calm her. "The past has been awful, and you have every reason to be furious. I don't want that to take away from what you have. Regina's much healthier and her pregnancy has stabilised, your nest is whole. Your baby's safe."
Grabbing her shoulder, Emma turned to her, meeting her eyes. "How do you know that? We just cast the spell last night."
Cupping Emma's cheek, Mal watched her manage to smile. "Can't you feel it?"
"No, how would I- what would I do?"
They were so sweet together, these two. "It'll be easier for you. You're joined with Regina's magic, and your child's within her. You feel her, don't you?"
Blinking away her tears, Emma searched her thoughts, and she didn't understand right away. She opened her mouth to argue, but then she stopped. "She's calm."
"See?" Mal rubbed her thumb across Emma's cheek. "Focus on her, her magic is connect to yours, and your daughter is adrift on that, like a sea. She won't be much yet, like a lantern on the ocean, but she's yours and if you concentrate, you can feel her."
"I can't do that," Emma protested, pulling her head back a little. "I barely sure I know that I can sense Regina right."
Dropping her hand to Emma's shoulder, Mal studied her reluctant expression. "Why wouldn't you?"
Thankfully, Emma let the hand remain. "Shouldn't that be hard?"
"Why?"
"That's- Regina's-" Sighing, Emma looked down at the dirt below their feet, then slowly back up. "When you said we'd be connected…"
"Magic is desire and emotion, want and need. If Regina's sitting at home with her children, what would she think about? What would she need?" Mal gave Emma the time to think, resisting the urge to reach out with her own magic and confirm what she thought. Emma needed to learn to use her strength.
Emma's frown began to evaporate. "She's content. Her magic's still, like water."
"And your daughter will be a presence within it, maybe she's immersed, like a fish, or near the top. She'll need different things as she grows." Mal lifted Emma's chin to look into her determined green eyes. "She's part of you, if you reach out, you'll find her."
Emma's eyes seemed far away, lost in thought, and for a moment, she frowned because she must have doubted herself again, but then- Emma's grin had the same warmth as embers. "She's there. She's really there. Like a little light-fish-thing?"
"That's your baby, Emma," Mal reminded her, holding her face close. "That's what matters. Whatever your parents have done, whatever you want to hate yourself for, you have this to be happy about. It might not make a good story for that biased book, but your family loves you, and you're exactly what they need."
Emma looked down, then pulled away, rubbing at her eyes. "I don't- I can't-"
"You do. You are so important to those who love you. Your rare heart is treasured by so many, for such good reason." Mal put her arm gently around Emma's shoulders. "Be angry when you need to be, but don't let it keep you from being happy now. Now is what matters. Don't miss a moment of now to be angry about something you can't change."