Standing in the now empty stables, Regina wasn't sure why she had wanted the time alone. She felt the rumble of emotions she had only recently tamed rushing to the surface, their presence amplified by the silence. The horses were being unusually quiet, cautious—as if they were respecting what had happened there—or were wary of the magical tension that had broken but still rippled through their stalls.
Emma had kept her from looking at the spot on the floor that her mother once occupied for too long, her emerald eyes a more welcome sight even as they were overwhelmed with tears, but now there was nothing to distract her from the nothingness, the pile of fabric and displaced straw, the remnants of incredibly potent magic. She padded over, not entirely ready to believe that this was it, that her mother hadn't just been transported to some other realm, that this wasn't an elaborate con to catch Regina unawares.
But as she lowered herself to the gown, there was no denying it. This was final.
Cora was dead.
She picked it up, the fabric silkier than she had supposed, trying to imagine what it would have felt like with her mother in it. It had been one of her favorites—extravagant, utterly royal. Growing up, Regina had rarely seen it, her mother only bringing it out for the grandest events, but she hadn't liked it—too dark, too low-cut, too intimidating with its high collar and intricate detail—it reminded the young Regina of how untouchable her mother was, how foreboding. Holding it now, she could see just how similar they had become when she was the Evil Queen, considering how close it was in design to many of her old gowns, the subconscious inspiration in a search for Cora's approval.
Folding it gently, Regina hated herself for being so upset at her loss. For mourning a mother that couldn't love her, whose final words and actions were filled with violent rage. She mourned her childhood, the kindness she never got but always hoped for, the pride. Of course the only periods of her life her mother would have praised—her machinations to the throne, her iron rule, her pursuit of Snow White—Cora had been set apart, gone in Wonderland at Regina's hand, and Regina's soul had grown darker and darker. The absurdity of it all…Regina would have laughed if it weren't so tragic.
She cradled the fabric to her chest, staring at the empty air where her mother once stood. As she had with Daniel this second time around. Clutching the dress closer, she wished she had been able to keep something of his before…before having to destroy him. But as she said goodbye yet again, she sensed the difference. The abyss, the deep despair written into her heart, was no longer there. His "love again" seemed to seep into the atmosphere, breaking apart the darkness. It made sense now. What she would have sworn was impossible was anything but.
She could hardly believe it, but she loved Emma.
Her True Love.
The magic that had protected them and defeated her mother wouldn't have been possible under any other circumstances. It wouldn't have even been possible if her True Love was someone else. She was in love with the most powerful magical being she had ever encountered.
And Emma was in love with her.
If it hadn't been for the lingering sensations of her heart in her chest, Regina never would have accepted it. She would have found a way around the impossibility of the magic, closed off the openings her heart had been building on its own for the blonde, continued to ignore Daniel's dying request, do everything in her power to save herself from the pain she knew would come with it. But their hearts together she couldn't avoid. They fit. And Emma's love had radiated from hers, pumping through every capillary in Regina's body. There was no denying it.
Faced with the unshakeable truth, Regina was surprised to find herself not shocked and futilely straining against her destiny, but calmed. Comforted. She wasn't running. It was like she was a new person—or rather, an old. Like a layer after layer of plaque had been removed from her hardened self to reveal a woman much closer to the young Regina who believed in the power of love and the possibility of happiness. She still hurt, every inch of her physically aching with the might of her emotion, but despite the haze and confusion and a lingering need to rail against the world, this time, she could see that she would make it. She could see that she would have someone to help her. Someone that was waiting right outside the stable doors.
Looking around the barn one last time, feeling it alive with her history, creaking with her ghosts, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, finding herself hoping beyond hope that one day she would be able to return to this place and not feel the weight of it. That she could find the freedom that had once made her so happy.
She only realized she still had Cora's dress securely in her arms in the moment she stepped out into the now bright sunlight to see Emma waiting more patiently than she had ever seen her. However, the blonde had no reaction to it at all, responding only to Regina's presence with a shy smile and her hand extended for Regina to hold, instantly seeking connection.
Regina hesitated only briefly before allowing the graceful fingers to intertwine with her own. Despite her acceptance of their situation, it was still fraught with unsaid words and untold stories, butterflies that reminded her of her first love, the kind of magic that even unmagical beings had to deal with. She hadn't held anyone's hand other than Henry since Daniel. Something so simple meant so much. Even still muddled in the hows and whys of the past couple of days, she was beginning to see just how formidable this love could be.
Emma, on the other hand, was perfectly content just to be making contact. There was no need to think of what this meant or what came next. They were alive. And Regina's delicate hand was warm and firm in hers. She would do anything for her. That was all that mattered.
"Do you want to go to the cemetery first?" Emma asked, giving Regina's hand a gentle squeeze. And then she flinched. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything? She should let Regina guide everything, but it just felt like she had to say it, more than when things normally came tumbling out of her mouth without thinking, but her worries were extinguished when Regina just nodded.
In fact, Regina had been infinitely grateful for the understanding, for not having to explain why she felt so deeply that her mother belonged in her crypt. Why her loss made her want to cry for her father, too. But Emma, Emma should go to her parents—the ones Regina had taken away, the other family she had ripped apart.
"Your family—they need…you should go to them." Regina blinked away tears, trying for her best commanding air as she stopped in front of the car.
"They know, Regina." Emma cringed internally at the remembrance of Charming and Snow seeing Regina at her lowest. Hopefully she would never realize. "They know they don't have to worry," she soothed, opening the passenger side door.
"And they know I'm where I need to be."
Arriving at the rolling lawn after the brief ride, they both stepped out, Emma instantly walking around to Regina's side only to lean against the car door, hands shoved in her pockets to keep from reaching out for the brunette once again. Despite their connection, Emma wasn't about to come on too strong for the first time in her life.
"I'll be right here, whenever you need me," Emma vowed with complete sincerity.
Regina said nothing, words beyond her reach, but held out a hand, much in the way Emma had at the stables. Emma was safety. And a part of her now. She wanted her there. The blonde's grateful surprise as Regina lead her to the Mills family mausoleum only further warmed her heart, though with every shift of emotion, she felt her eyes well up, as if they couldn't handle any deviation from whatever she had already managed to contain.
Though the door creaked open, Emma was puzzled by how un-musty it was for a mausoleum, despite it looking untouched, the solid stone tomb unmoving as death itself—at least before Regina pushed it aside to reveal her secret passageway.
Emma was staggered that Regina would show any of it to her considering she guarded her life of secrets with more ferocity than a starved dog. Treading carefully down the steps, it wasn't long before Emma realized that this was likely where Regina had hid out after being accused of Archie's murder. All that time when they hadn't been able to find her, after the brunette had disappeared into purple smoke with an expression that had unwittingly torn Emma's heart to shreds.
Emma felt the only recently healed wounds pull open with guilt as she considered what that really meant. The only place Regina could run to had been a crypt. A dungeon. With only the dead and their memories for company. She had jailed herself for her own protection. Yet again, because apparently house arrest hadn't even been enough.
Knowing she would go mad from that loss of freedom, Emma felt her growing self-disappointment grow, threatening to overtake her until Regina turned and caught her eye.
She had been thinking of the same thing, her temporary exile, and seeing the anguish in the blonde's face, (she wondered if Emma Swan was this incapable of a poker face with anyone or if she just wanted Regina to be able to read her like "See Spot Run") she offered her as much support as she could. That this had hardly been her fault, not that it had been anything at all, considering the dungeons Regina had spent time in in the past, and even if it had been terrible, even if it had been torturous, Regina would have deserved every second of the punishment. Because as much suffering as she had faced, she had caused more.
So she should take this for what it was. She had to kill her own mother. Of course no one would understand how that tore her up inside, how her love for the abusive woman had not been borne out of fear, but hope. Cora was her mother, and her love for her didn't change because she wasn't able to love her back. Regina hated that. But it was true. Moving along her mother's old possessions, each one held something for her. She wished she could have burned it all, reduced years of painful memories to another layer of dust on a mausoleum floor, but she couldn't. Instead, she set the folded dress upon an open pedestal. Appropriate, she thought.
She wondered what Emma was making of all this, Regina's monument to her family line, her dark and deviant past, a mysterious underground room filled to the brim with secrets, things Emma couldn't even begin to know or understand. But when she finally managed to turn and face the blonde again, she saw her struggling to keep tears from rolling down her cheeks, as if the room itself had been too much for her, the joy of Regina's doors being open only serving to magnify the misery that came rushing in.
It was time to let go. She would not let her past take both of them down.
Regina moved to Emma, decisively taking her hand in hers, and led them out of the crypt back to the car, back to home. Their home.
Their hands never separated.