Author's Note: Sorry for the lack of update last week. Things have been crazy lately and I've been ill. So no update last week. But an update is here and pretty long and I've been editing Chapter 5 so that will have an edited chapter up within the next day. I hope that you enjoy the chapter. Hopefully posting will once again be once a week on Saturday so long as things don't remain crazy.

As always thanks to those who are reading this story, reviewing, favoriting and putting it on their alert lists. Enjoy the chapter. Finally some more Swan Queen interaction. ;-)

Chapter 6
'The Princess Behind the Mask'

-Night of the Ball-

Emma had been pleasantly surprised by how much she was enjoying herself. She had never had a ball held for her, at least not one that she could remember. Her parents had apparently held a ball for her when she was merely an infant as both a celebration of her birth and a commemoration of defeating the Evil Queen. So any memory of the event was long lost now that it was eighteen years later. There had been the ball held for Jamie when he was born but she could not attend. She had come down with a virus and had to spend the evening in her chambers.

It had only been an hour into Jamie's ball when her mother had arrived sending away Rony, her favorite nanny. Once Rony had left her mother had sent for some tea and cookies and they had their own party. Just the two of them.

Her mother had even taken the time to teach her how to dance a waltz. She hadn't been allowed out of her bed so she had to watch as her mother danced around the room holding on tightly to Mr. Antler, her favorite stuffed toy. A stuffed toy, or rather a deer that she still had hidden underneath her pillows waiting for her every night when she went to bed. Mr. Antler was better than any self-absorbed Prince and she'd tell her mother that if she weren't afraid of sounding like a petulant ten year old. Who was she to tell her mother she had no interest in wrapping her arms around anyone else? Poor Mr. Antler would be terribly jealous if she did. Emma chuckled at the thought.

Still, Emma didn't enjoy everything about the ball. She wasn't pleased with the idea that she was supposed to find her true love tonight, which meant she had to accept every offer to dance. Even when her feet throbbed and all she wanted to do was take off the heels her mother had made her wear. The gown wasn't on her list of likes for the evening either. It was itchy and scratchy and all she wanted to do was take it off and wear a suit. Much like the one her father and Jamie were wearing.

Of course that wasn't allowed. She was a woman, and a Princess, so that meant she had to wear a gown. Not just a dress but a gown! One that she had to pick up at her thighs and lift so she could walk. It was ridiculous! She had to wear a slip beneath it and beneath the slip she wore was a bodice that laced up and made it almost impossible to breathe. It was deplorable what women had to suffer through while men were allowed to dress in a nice set of pants and a tail coat.

Emma had been standing along one of the walls of the ballroom when her mother found her fidgeting and scratching at her neck and wrist, where the dress was irritating her constantly. Not wishing to cause a scene, her mother had simply grabbed her hand in both of hers and hissed through the side of her mouth to stop her fidgeting. Even though Emma was a grown woman and apparently ready to marry in the eyes of her parents she still whined like a child and told her mother that the dress was itchy. Just like she had done countless times before with countless other dresses at an undetermined amount of functions where she'd been forced to wear a gown. Whether it be to Alexandra's birthday ball, any of the balls for Queen Aurora's children, or even for her parents.

There were never ending functions to attend where she was forced to wear attire she simply despised. She wondered idly what would happen if she actually did attend in attire she felt comfortable in.

The thought of it alone made her grin. What would her mother think of her when she arrived to a dinner wearing the padded leather vest and green squire's shirt with black worn leather pants? Oh, there would be such a commotion from all the Queen's that Emma actually thought about doing it just to see their faces. The tongue lashing that would follow the perturbed faces always kept her from wearing anything but the dress that was properly picked for her.

The ball gown she wore currently was a dreadful thing. The material was heavy and uncomfortable. She couldn't help but twitch in it. She would have much rather worn something more form fitting, light, and much much shorter. That is if she were to wear a dress at all.

But heaven forbid she wear something so revealing in front of the aristocrats of this and five other kingdoms! It would have been a scandal, and maybe helped weed out the prudes who'd asked her to dance.

These men had nothing she wanted. They could have all the riches in the world, but the moment they talked about how comfortably they fit together; how she would look even lovelier if she were dancing with him at his castle, or, or—her favorite!—how beautiful their children would be, she lost interest instantly. Most of them barely said twenty words before moving into his castle was brought up or how their children would look.

The two men who'd spoken of children before asking her any personal questions were quickly disregarded. Really! The man was already speaking of children, which was speaking of marriage and of sex. Not twenty words and he was already propositioning her; albeit in the most formal and polite of ways. Emma mentally rolled her eyes.

Emma wished they were man enough to say what they really meant. At least the bounty hunters at the Watering Hole were straight forward enough to tell her to her face that they wanted her for her body. These Princes, Dukes, and Lords all went about it in a slimy covert way. They spoke of marriage and of children. As if she would want children right after getting married.

What if she didn't want children? What if she wanted to travel? What if she didn't want to be tied down to rearing children in a castle for the rest of her life? What if she had no desire to sleep with them or wed them?

Why was it assumed that because she was the woman that she would need to stay put and raise the children? Children that were automatically assumed she wished to birth.

Emma often wondered if the men would be so eager to have children if they were the ones that would have to carry the child for nine months and then birth them—because there was the possibility of having twins in her bloodline—without any medication to help stem the pain of child birth? What then? Hmm? Would they be so willing to marry her and sleep with her if she were the reason he would have to endure hours and hours on end of child birth?

Emma liked to think they'd never want to have children then. Even if by children they meant boys, because most men were not satisfied with having daughters. Men of stature always wanted boys. And if the woman couldn't give them a boy they sought other means to have a son, taking on another woman, a mistress, all so that the male child could take on their family name and inherit their wealth, property and reputation. Not that it was spoken of widely but truths such as those were hard to keep secret with the grapevine between castles being so well established.

But really Emma wondered, what was so wrong with leaving that name, wealth, property and reputation to a female child? In her view there was nothing a woman could not accomplish that a man could. She had proven on many occasions to be a skilled swordswoman against the best knights that both her kingdom, Alexandra's kingdom and Aurora's. She had even bested Prince Steven who was rumored to be one of the best swordsman of their generation. Even having bested him there were no pats on the back for being the best, there were sneers and whispered insults.

No, Emma knew that most men would never push to have sex, not if they were the ones conceiving the child in their non-existent wombs. Men of power and prestige just assumed it was the woman's place to be at his side, submit herself to him in all ways including sexually, bear his children, raise those children, and remain as pretty and doting as possible for the rest of her life. All because it was the woman's pleasure, (ha!) the woman was lucky to be with a man such as him! And people wondered why Emma had no real wish to get married.

Why shouldn't she want all of those things? Why shouldn't she do all of those things? He was giving her a life of 'luxury'. Well, in this case it would be Emma giving her husband a life of luxury and still she would have to bend to his will. That was not for her. Emma would be no man's trophy. Not in the least. She would rather die first.

Oh, she wanted love. She wanted her happily ever after, just like everyone did. She just knew in her heart of hearts that her happy ending would not be with a man that only wanted her for her beauty and what she could offer him in appearances of their future children. Her happily after would be with someone who saw what she wanted most and would do everything in their power to see that she had her happy ending. That she saw the world she would love to travel more of, that would not push for her to have children until she was ready to settle down. Her happily ever after would be with a man that realized Emma could be better than him in whatever ways she was. He would accept her for her oddities and love her more for them.

Emma knew that she would never find that man at this ball, if she ever did find him.

Emma danced and danced and danced. Her mother having pushed her away from the wall to mingle with the young men here who were all more than eagerly awaiting her presence and their chance at a dance. Somehow, even after dancing with over a dozen men none seemed to understand that she was not interested in hearing about the prospect of having children with them or getting married right away. This was a ball designed to celebrate her birthday, and unfortunately help her find a husband. But she did not fancy meeting the man this once before rushing off to marry him. She was not like Cinderella and Thomas. She was not like Aurora and Philip. She was interested in learning about her future husband before jumping towards wedding bells with him.

So whenever the prospect of children came up before discussions of what she wanted in life, or at least what her favorite color was, she excused herself from the dance quickly. Often times calling on Jamie to help her.

Jamie and Emma had a system that worked well for them. Jamie would stand along the shell of the circle. The same shell of a circle that formed around her whenever she and her partner danced. He stood there so that when she wanted the dance to end all she need do was cross her fingers as they rested on the man's shoulders. The moment Jamie saw her fingers crossed he'd rush to cut in and steal her away from the rejected beau.

Never, did any of them complain, at least not after the first (and only) time one of the men did.

The young lord had been immediately cut off from their dance being begun again; he should have known better than to put his hand on Jamie's shoulder. Emma knew Jamie was trying to seem brave but the grip hadn't been gentle and the moment she stepped towards Lord Bently's second son Robert, her father and several guards came to her 'aide'. Emma had handled it very gently. She'd simply removed young Robert's hand, breaking his thumb and wrist in the process.

He was gentlemanly enough not to scream at the pain. Poor man probably didn't want to seem weak in front of so many aristocrats. He'd been escorted from the hall, and the castle grounds post haste, allowing her to dance with Jamie once more. And that had all been within the first hour of the ball beginning. Whatever high hopes her parents had held for the evening had been lost by the third hour, the clock one hour closer to midnight.

She should have known that something more exciting was bound to happen. This, after all, was how things worked in her world.

As the clock struck eleven she had been in the midst of a dance with a young man who seemed, well, nice enough. He was kind and even asked her gentle questions about her relationship with Jamie.

He was intelligent. He was the first to ask her about Jamie and comment on how cute they were while dancing together. He, unlike every young Lord, Duke, or Captain, knew the way to her heart was through her family and he'd been utilizing that knowledge well in their conversation as they danced.

Emma had been disappointed to hear the music stop and watch him bow already stepping away to allow another to dance with her. As she'd reached out to ask him for another dance she realized something rather important. His name. She'd never gotten his name and as the scream of a terrified woman filled the ballroom she realized she would not get it. The crowd around the main doors of the hall was parting, leaving a direct line of sight to her family. Grabbing up Jamie's hand she pulled him away from where they'd been stationed, his inquiry upon whether or not she liked the young man reaching deaf ears.

Emma, pulling Jamie along with her arrived in the center of the hall only for Snow White to realize who it was stalking towards them all.

Before Emma could offer up even the simplest sound Jamie was pushed tightly into her arms. Her mother stood defensively to her right while her father stood in the opposite position to her left, flanking them both. Emma couldn't move. Snow had a deft grip on her forearm, keeping it locked around Jamie as her brother looked up at her fearfully. Squeezing him she kissed the top of his head and held him close to her as the spectacle began.

It was better this way, she told herself as the farce continued. It was better for her to keep a hold of Jamie rather than step in front of her parents and handle the witch herself. She had no weapons, and judging by the weapons hanging from the ceiling above her, there was very little her own weapons would accomplish.

It was only when Jamie had left her arms, squirming around in them too much for her to keep a proper hold of him that she realized just what kind of trouble she was in. Not only did the Evil Queen catch sight of her, but she immediately recognized her and nearly blew her cover. Thankfully the witch had made it seem as if she was surprised to see the birthday girl, but the moment of fear upon her face stuck in Emma's mind. The witch had been afraid of her, at least for a split moment. Shock and disbelief were quick to wipe away that fear, as now whatever power Emma held in their contrived relationship had been lost. The Evil Queen knew her for who she was, not for what she did.

Speaking out of turn, far too fed up with the cowardice of every single one of the royals in front of her she called them all hags. For that was what they were, hags and witches, and evil step mothers that needed to vacate the premises immediately. Except, it wasn't that easy. When the Red Queen blanched at her insult of hag Emma came to the realization that she was her own worst enemy. She simply could not help herself it seemed, as she always put herself into deeper trouble without even trying. It still wasn't until she saw an unmistakable smirk on the Evil Queen's face that she realized in how much trouble she truly was in.

Somehow, finding herself wrapped in the tight embrace of the Evil Queen, watching as the world faded to nothing but black, was not how she imagined her night ending. Granted she had hoped that the witch would make an appearance at the ball. She had just, well…miscalculated how the witch would attend.

This ball, she knew unlike any of the others she'd attended would not blend into one sordid memory. No, not this one. Especially since she was kidnapped at her own ball! Happy birthday to her.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Throwing her arm up and back over her shoulder Emma connected with the witch's face, her elbow crashing into the brunette's nose. There was no crunch, a groan of pain and surprise yes, but the force was only enough to dislodge the arms that were wrapped around her. Emma realized too late however that she should have waited until they had arrived at their destination before making her move to escape.

The first thing she saw when light and objects actually became visible to her again, was the ground. Ten feet beneath her.

Falling was easy. You had no control over it. Landing however, was the biggest pain especially to the knees.

Landing on hard tile, in high heels, nearly broke Emma's ankle. Groaning loudly she wobbled a bit on her feet, stumbling forward on her aching legs. Her right ankle screamed in pain as she pivoted, so she could see where she was. The room was spacious, open, and there seemed to be water marks along the walls. The stains seemed to be the only thing that remained of dozens, if not hundreds of weapons.

The fireplace was lit and two chairs sat atop a fur rug with a small table between them. There were three entrances into the hall, one to the left and another to the right. The third was at the far end of the room directly opposite where the fireplace was on the other end of the hall.

Emma knew this place.

Looking around again she winced, careful to keep her weight off her right ankle. Yes, yes, she did know this place. But…why were they here?

Better yet, where was the witch or rather witches? This was Maleficent's meeting hall after all. She'd been here years ago, as a child. She'd gotten lost in the Forbidden Forest and had been found snooping around something she shouldn't by one of Maleficent's guards. She'd kicked and screamed and beat three of the six guards to a pulp by any means she could—her fists, elbows, knees, feet and whatever stick or rock she could pick up were her only means at the time—before they'd gotten her back to Maleficent's castle. They'd brought her into this very room, where Maleficent was sipping tea with a beautiful creature beside her chair laying down. They both turned to her and Emma remembered being scared for weeks that she would open her eyes after waking from a nightmare and see Maleficent's crazed eyes staring down at her. The witch had been that angry with her.

The room was vastly different now. It had been eight years but Emma hadn't expected Maleficent to change much in the years. Evil didn't change for the better only the worse. Didn't it?

Instead of the weapons along the wall this time there were paintings. The wall was still vastly bare but above the fire place were three large paintings. By the looks of them they weren't ordinary. She could make out moving figures, even with the haze of the heat from the fire place. Emma's eyes widened. They were enchanted!

Looking at them closer, Emma recognized that the castles they depicted were Alexandra's as well as Queen Aurora's and King Philip's castles. Queen Aurora and King Philip's kingdom was nearly as large as her parents due to their families marrying and combining their previous kingdoms. They had two castles and lived in both for six months each. But why would Maleficent have enchanted portraits of each castle? It didn't make sense…

"You…bitch…"

Emma turned away from looking at the paintings quickly, her hand moving to her side where she normally carried her sword. Presently she came away with nothing, her fist grabbing at the empty air. She had no weapon, no means of defense, she was powerless.

Swallowing she took a step back. The only weapon she had was space. Graham told her twenty feet, and she was going to be damn sure to stay twenty feet away from the witch as long as possible. Even if she was sure she could take the witch in hand to hand combat, she wasn't going to risk getting too close. With her magic fully at her disposal, Emma had little chance against her.

"I have heard that it takes one to know one…"

The growl that left the witch was ferocious as her eyes finally lifted up from looking down at the floor. The immaculately dressed witch truly did look as regal as a queen, even as she was slightly bent over. With her hand against her nose Emma couldn't tell if her attack had drawn blood or not.

Stepping to her left, one slow cross over after the other, Emma remained away from the wall allowing herself more room to work with. She wouldn't be trapped between a wall and this witch. There needed to be space for her to escape in.

It seemed the witch had no intentions of talking with her, too busy grumbling under her breath to the right of the two seats. "What are we doing here?"

"I had no intentions of bringing you here. I had been in the process of taking you to your own rooms when you attacked me—Again might I add."

Emma's mouth fell open. "Why take me in the first place if you were to bring me back to my own rooms?"

"I thought you would have realized that already." The witch smirked as she dropped her hand away from her nose, wincing as she released it. Standing up to her full height Emma realized that with heels they were just about the same size.

"You took me to frighten my mother." It was genius, evil genius of course. Her mother would be distraught with worry, thinking that the dark witch had truly come back to fulfill her promises from all those years ago.

"Of course. Although it was a rather spontaneous decision, I did not lie when I told your mother I had only wished to talk. I have no…further…qualms with your mother. I do happen to enjoy teasing her however. She was always rather entertaining…"

It was all a game, something for the witch to find joyous entertainment. Fun. She was making her mother suffer through her worst nightmare…for fun.

"You disgust me." Emma seethed.

"Disgust is such a strong word."

Emma sneered, "It fits my feelings for you perfectly."

"Feelings?" It seemed the witch was truly surprised that Emma could have feelings at all. She wasn't evil! She at least still had a heart! "The Princess actually has feelings? Of her own? Not those manipulated and created for the sole purpose of making others happy? What a revelation! You must think you're the first of your kind…or the first to be disgusted with my actions. I can assure you, you are neither." The faux happiness that had laced the witch's words became none existent as she glared at Emma from across the room making her look as cold as stone.

"I at least still have a heart." It was a low blow, but in her anger Emma didn't really have much else to go for.

"Mmhmm…yes well I can fix that for you if you'd like…" Emma blanched. "No? Too bad. I still have mine as well as you failed to take it from me." The witch's fingers twitched at her side as purple streams sparkled around them. "…much unlike your mother in that respect." The witch laughed, shaking her head and the thoughts she seemed to be thinking away. "You are practically incapable of doing anything, aren't you?"

"Do not patronize me!" Emma clutched her fists together, foolishly taking several steps closer to the witch before her brain caught up with her actions. She retreated, watching the witch's hands closely. Calming down, she forced her heart to slow, "We both know just how capable I am."

"Do we? I seem to have forgotten. Wasn't your objective to kill me? Are I not standing here? Does that not mean you are not as capable as you think?" She laughed bitterly again. "You defend your ineptness as if there is anything to defend. You lost. You did not win your bounty. My heart is still within me chest, and my head upon my neck."

Emma's face burned with heat as her muscles tensed beneath her skin tightly. Anger did not scratch the surface of what she felt towards the witch at this moment.

"Oh, do calm yourself before you blow a blood vessel. Wouldn't want to mar that pretty face of yours, now would you? How else will you find a husband?"

Damn twenty feet. Damn Graham and his cowardice when it came to this witch, he could have ended this years ago if he had the nerve. To hell with the way those men had treated her at the ball, to her parents for expecting her to marry any one of them; to Derrick for insinuating that all she was or could be was a beautiful woman on his arm, and to hell with the witch that knew just where to hit her to make her angry.

"Do think before you act…" The Queen warned.

Rushing forward Emma didn't even take stock of the two women coming in through the back entrance of the hall. Nor did she notice how the woman she had just within her grasp hadn't stopped smiling. Her ankle, her ankle is something she did notice but pushed it aside.

Two more feet and…

…she met nothing but air.

The taste of what could almost be liquorish touched her tongue as the black air around her disappeared just like the witch.

Groaning, an ear splitting screech filled the room as her shoulder slammed into the back edge of the wooden chair, moving it as her arms wrapping around it in her attempt to stay upright. She had been so close. So very close.

Punching her hand down on the arm of the chair Emma pushed off of it, one hand wrapped tightly in the skirt of her gown as she once again nearly made it to the chuckling witch.

Sadly, this time there was no chair to stop her fall. She slid several feet across the tile floor, the sound of laughter egging her on as she jumped up and onto her bad leg. Emma fell without another sound and remained where she was, her gown spread out around her in an open circle and her hand pressing down on her screaming ankle.

"You are as rash as both your parents combined. It's such a lovely trait to be passed down. It makes you all prone to foolishness."

Maleficent and Lady Tremaine each looked at the sprawled princess for a moment before walking passed her, as if her presence there wasn't something that should alarm them.

"I thought I heard your voice, Regina. Why on earth did you bring her here."

The contempt in Maleficent's voice made Emma flinch. Emma hadn't realized she'd garnered that much hate from the witch in her life. After all, the only time she had ever met Maleficent besides tonight, had been that one time when she was still very young. Ten years old to be exact, so eight years it had been since she'd seen the witch. She certainly didn't look a day older than she had, but Emma knew that was the beauty of being magically inclined. The magic in your blood helped stem the aging process, as well as allowed for potions and spells to keep one youthful.

Still, surely Emma hadn't made such a lasting impression, and such a negative one to boot, had she? She was an unruly child but she hadn't hit Maleficent, and the witch had been almost pleasant to her while she awaited her father and his men to arrive. She'd even apologized for snooping where she shouldn't have and for the trouble she knew it had cost the shape-shifting witch.

Not that she cared. Much.

Normally Emma wouldn't care at all, but seeing as she was at the mercy of these three women she had hoped Maleficent wouldn't still hold a grudge. Steven spoke very highly of the shape-shifter and how she had been working on trying to mend her relationship with his mother, Queen Aurora. It seemed mercy was not part of the witch's learned attributes.

Maleficent grabbed a cup off the table between the chairs and poured herself a glass, unaware of Emma's confusion. "Do help yourself…" Maleficent flourished a hand to the bottle and the empty cup to Lady Tremaine before moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Evil Queen, or as the shape-shifter called her, Regina.

It was a very pleasant name, and suited the queen witch in Emma's opinion.

"I assure you, I did not mean to bring her here. She was a bit restless during our transportation. I had meant to simply deposit her in her own rooms at the castle." Regina sighed, and Emma realized that she must have truly meant to simply scare her mother. Her intentions hadn't been to bring her here. That gave Emma hope that they wouldn't be keeping her here as their prisoner. She be damned if she got stuck in one of their dungeons as their amusement.

"Well, now that she is here you could always keep her around for a bit. Snow is sure to lose her mind with worry." Maleficent's smile was cut off from Emma's continued view as she sipped from her glass.

Lady Tremaine held out a glass to Regina as she sipped from her own.

"I do hope you know that since they are unaware of where the castle is located within the dark forest that they will be coming here Maleficent. Do not get me wrong my friend, this is a wonderful fortress, but nothing will stop Snow and James once they have banded together with Cinderella and Aurora. Who, as we know, will be all too willing to help."

Maleficent's face fell, as if she hadn't been expecting that. Emma rolled her eyes. That should have been the first expectation the witch had. She had aliened herself with the Evil Queen and if her parents couldn't get to the Dark Castle than they would come here.

"I do not plan to keep her." Regina spoke up, her hand placed soothingly upon Maleficent's arm. The blonde witch relaxed instantly.

The relief wasn't unexpected. Emma herself was relieved that there was no plan to keep her prisoner. Emma still couldn't help but wondered why Maleficent was as relieved as she seemed. The witch was very powerful and had hundreds of supporters. She stood a good chance against anything her parents sent her way. Though there would be something greater to fear if the trifecta of kingdoms came knocking on her door. Still, there was something more. The way in which Maleficent's eyes shifted from Regina to her and then above the fireplace made Emma wonder just what those paintings really were about.

"Thank you for your assistance tonight. I have a feeling that I have made things far more complicated than I first wished." Regina spoke to Maleficent.

"I am sorry about Victoria. I saw the vision as well. You certainly saved the woman's life. Though I doubt she will thank you for it."

Vision, Emma thought. Could Regina see the future? What had she seen that had made her pretend to attack and then kidnap her? What actions were the Red Queen going to take that would have caused her death?

Regina laughed, "When has anyone ever thanked me for saving them?"

The question, Emma knew, was directed at her, but she refused to say a word. Not one word. She stuck to glaring at the witches and Lady Tremaine. She would not thank Regina for saving her life. She would not thank her because the witch was the reason she had been about to die in the first place. (She was aware that she had started the whole mess by trying to kill her, but there would be no apologies!) For goodness sake the witch had kidnapped her!

Let them continue to talk around her as if she wasn't there. She could gain a great deal of intel from them while also trying to decide if she could actually make it to the doors of the hall before they could cast a spell at her or on her.

"Those villagers were always very thankful…" Maleficent dutifully reminded with a small smile.

"Yes, I suppose they were. I shall have to contact them soon enough or the dunderheads will be searching my forest looking for me getting themselves killed while they're at it."

"I think you have let Snow stew long enough…"

"When I am looking for your opinion Augusta I will ask for it." Regina bit out. It seemed to Emma that the dark witch did not take kindly to the wicked step-mother. Not that Emma blamed her of course. Augusta Tremaine was a dreadfully sour woman.

Regina handed Lady Tremaine back the glass and stalked towards Emma.

Swallowing thickly, Emma was surprised to watch the regal Queen kneel down in front of her, her eyes almost soft in comparison from before. There was already a bruise forming underneath both of her eyes and across her nose. It looked painful.

"May I see your ankle?"

"What?" Emma asked incredulous.

"It is not that hard of a request to process, Princess."

"Bite me, witch."

Regina laughed, "Do not tempt me."

Emma's eyes widened, and she was at a loss. "You wouldn't." It would seem, not for words.

"No, I wouldn't, who knows what kinds of germs you are carrying around with you."

"The big bad witch afraid of a few germs?" Emma asked, laughing at the involuntary shiver that had coursed through the witch at the mention of germs.

"If you knew what I know, you would be too." Regina admitted blatantly. "Now, may I see your ankle?"

Emma was still skeptical and moved away every time Regina inched her hand closer to her injured foot. "Why?"

Regina sighed, "You've hurt your ankle, I wish to see if I can heal it but I cannot do that if you continue to fidget."

"You want to help me?" Emma was thrown upside down she was so confused. Why would Regina want to help her? To heal her? Hadn't she herself caused the witch enough pain on their little hike through the woods a few days ago? She knew she had. She'd caught how Regina was putting more weight on her right foot than she was on her left. She'd been hurt in their exchange. Wouldn't this be perfect payback? To let her suffer a similar pain?

"Wait…! Your ankle is hurt as well. You haven't healed it. You can't heal mine, why do you really want to see it? To make it permanent?" If the witch made her ailment permanent she would be practically crippled for the rest of her life. No traveling through the forests without a walking stick, no riding on horseback without a brace of some sort, and no more lessons with the guards in sword fighting. She'd worked too hard for most of her freedoms to lose them to this witch. Emma pushed off with her good ankle sliding along the floor to get away from Regina and her all too eager self.

"I cannot heal my own ankle." Regina admitted, and they both heard Maleficent's sharp intake of breath at the admission. "Now please, calm down."

"Regina, why did you not tell me you were hurt?" Maleficent demanded an answer, aghast that her friend seemed to be hurt and had not informed her.

"Now is not the time Fee…"

"Now is the only time there is! You know that better than most Regina. Now, let me see that ankle!" Maleficent looked angry, no she was angry. There was literally a glow about her that showed all that anger. It was pulsating off of her through her eyes as they glowed. Interesting, Regina's anger or loss of control on her power was outletted through her hands, while Maleficent's was through her eyes. Emma wondered if each witch had their own special outlet for their magic when it was positively or negatively affected by their emotions.

"Not now…" Regina hissed, glaring at Maleficent over her shoulder. The older witch stopped walking towards them, but kept her eyes trained on Regina and Emma, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked like an angry child in her stance, but her glowing eyes made sure to tell a different story. She wasn't as helpless as a child and honestly it looked like she was ready to kill a child she was so angry.

"Now…is it your right ankle or left?" Regina asked, trying to draw Emma's attention away from Maleficent. "She will not appreciate you staring at her, so I advise you to stop." The witch whispered low so Emma was the only one to hear.

"I heard that…" Or so Emma thought.

"Of course you did Fee…" Regina rolled her eyes as she sighed. "Now be a dear and stop eavesdropping." Maleficent humphed and stomped her heeled feet against the tile for good measure.

"Right, my right ankle." Emma admitted, hopping the quicker she let Regina heal her ankle the faster Maleficent would calm down after assuring herself that Regina was alright. "I am sorry you know."

Regina looked up from lifting and rolling the edge of Emma's gown up so she could see the Princess' ankle, her brow raised. As she lifted up the slip of the gown as well, the sheer of it as light as a feather. Once it was held in her hand with the rest of the gown, which wasn't as light as the sheer cloth, she put her hand upon Emma's right ankle. She could already see the swelling and feel the blood rushing to the surface of the bruised flesh. Emma hissed at her touch and Regina did her best not to flinch in sympathy for the girl. It was her own fault after all.

"Sorry for what?" Regina inquired.

"Hurting your ankle."

Regina's eyes snapped up to meet Emma's and Emma wondered if she had said the wrong thing. She truly was sorry that she had hurt the witch. A few moments ago she would have loved to be the cause of her pain, but she had just been angry and egged on. She was known for having a short temperament.

"She's the one that hurt you! That's not…how! And why are you healing the wretch then!" Maleficent cried, insulted on her friend's behalf it seemed. "You're the huntress! You are the one that nearly killed my friend!"

"Fee…!" Regina spun around, only spinning about 180 degrees, but it was enough for her to see Maleficent clearly and grab the green fireball that was headed towards Emma's head.

"She…she hurt you…" Maleficent looked as if she was about to cry. Emma felt sick at the sight of it. She had been under the impression that no one would miss Regina if she were to die. She had already been told wrong by Mandy at the Watering Hole, but this was different. This was someone's genuine grief over the mere idea that Regina had almost been killed, been taken from them…again. "She could have killed you…" Maleficent whispered, her chin quivering.

"She failed." Owtch, Emma wondered how Regina could make the only defense she was going to receive be the biggest and sharpest slap in the face all in one.

"But she, she could try again…"

"I won't…" Emma offered, the compromise sounding feeble to her own ears. "I swear I won't."

Regina turned to look at her, eyeing her as skeptically as Maleficent was.

Regina seemed to be the only one to buy into her promise however. "See, she swears. You know how promises are kept by the good."

"If she breaks it I get to kill her." Maleficent stated matter-of-factly.

"Fee…"

"No. She agrees to that or I kill her now to make sure she doesn't kill you in the future." Regina sighed and looked to Emma. Emma's mouth dropped as she realized the witch wanted her to accept the deal.

If she, ever in the future, had to kill Regina, she would have to face the wrath of Maleficent. That was not something she wanted to look forward to. But what choice did she have? To promise to die later or die now?

"Deal…" She just made a deal with the devil. Or the devil's mistress.

Emma would just have to get around not killing Regina. Besides, she hadn't really wanted to kill the witch tonight. She'd just been interested in roughing her up a bit. Giving her a few bruises. Though it seemed she'd given her enough bruises with one single blow than all her other attempts.

Obviously Maleficent still wasn't convinced but she lowered her hands, her eyes still glowing a bright green hue. The threat of death still prominent in the air as Emma swept her eyes from one witch to the other.

"Why don't you go get yourself a drink?" Regina offered, obviously hoping to send the other witch away.

Maleficent didn't say a word, but she turned and got herself a refill, her eyes never off of them for very long.

Regina shook her head and sighed as she turned back to Emma. That was thrice now that she'd saved the Princess and still never heard a thank you. Though, she was pleasantly surprised by the apology for hurting her. Not for trying to kill her, but for hurting her in the process. It was a start.

"You are as strange as your mother." Regina finally said after what felt like an eternity of silence.

"So she's as strange as her mother. Goody. Fix her up and get her the hell out of my fortress." Maleficent was pissy, and Emma honestly couldn't blame her. She seemed to truly care for Regina.

"Here, let's fix this…" Regina touched Emma's ankle once again, as gently as possible but she couldn't keep from hissing in pain. "This is going to sting…" Was Emma's only warning before a shocking electric pulse seemed to generate from her ankle and travel up her entire leg.

Gasping she pushed down on the top of her calf to try and keep the tingles from shooting up the rest of her leg. It didn't hurt, but it was certainly not a pleasant feeling.

"There…" Regina moved her hand away from Emma's ankle. The swelling was gone, and the throb non-existent.

"Thank you…" Emma swallowed suddenly feeling light headed.

Regina smiled genuinely at her before everything went black. "You're welcome…"

End Chapter Six

So, what do you think? Next chapter: Snow White's choice to get help from the unlikeliest of places. Snow and Regina have a small chat.