Henry was wonderful, smiling and vibrant despite the weight of being the author and having lived through the past couple of years of harrowing events. He was burdened by his worries for his family and his future, but not so much so that he couldn't relax and enjoy a home cooked meal with his mothers. Regina was smiling brightly, her eyes practically twinkling as she laughed at something Emma had said, and Emma chuckled in response. Even Emma, sweet, heartbroken, exhausted Emma was grinning so wide that it seemed her smile might actually have a chance a erasing the near permanent frown lines that had taken up residence on her face over the past year. The sun was streaming in through the windows, the smell of freshly cooked breakfast still lingering in the air with notes of cinnamon and cloves, nutmeg, bacon, and vanilla. It was practically perfect in every way.
The Queen felt like she was suffocating.
When they'd been cooking things had been alright. She'd been surprised when Regina slipped aside, willing to take a back seat role, opting to pull ingredients from the surrounding shelves and pass them over when needed and collect them to put them away once they'd served their purpose. Henry eagerly joined her at the stove and allowed her to walk him through the steps of the recipe as if he were still a young child just learning the basics. Emma had settled herself on the nearby barstool, content to watch and add running commentary ranging from how hungry she was to how she thought they should absolutely be making more bacon (which she kept stealing nibbles of when she thought no one was looking). At some point, while Emma had been tossing blueberries into the air and attempting to catch them in her mouth, which mostly ended up with blueberries hitting the floor, Regina had grown frustrated with her child-like antics and swatted her with a dish towel, resulting in Emma grabbing a handful of them and chucking them in Regina's direction. Regina dodged them, but with the Queen's back turned her reflexes weren't quite as sharp and she felt the little round fruit bang against the back of her head, one slipping down her collar, one flying over her shoulder and landing in the pan. Immediately she felt her free hand flexing, clenching into a fist. Her face felt flushed in anger almost instantly and she was about to whip around and snap at them when the strangest sensation began to overtake her fury. It started in her stomach and bubbled up through her chest, warm and tingling and very unsettling. She could feel it lodged in her throat before it clawed it's away free and burst forth from her mouth.
"I'm sorry, did you just...was that a...giggle?" At this the Queen finally did spin around to face the aggravating women behind her, again prepared to snap when her eyes fell on the positively shit-eating-grin spread over Emma's face and the way Regina was covering her own smile with the dish towel, her eyes twinkling.
"I do not giggle." Even as she said it she could feel the laughter surging forth, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards and her attempt to hold it in by sealing her lips shut only succeeding in causing an undignified spluttering when she could no longer stay silent. Soon all four of them were laughing, Emma's head thrown back in abandon, Regina bent halfway over and clutching her sides, Henry's eyes dancing between his three mothers like he couldn't quite believe this was happening, and the Queen herself holding her stomach as she laughed in a way she was fairly certain she never had. They laughed and laughed and laughed and the first batch of french toast burned in the pan, but none of them could bring themselves to care.
And it was wonderful. For a while, it was wonderful. But now, sitting around the table, the delicious meal finished and the conversation carrying on easily between Henry, Regina, and Emma, the Queen found herself more and more aware of how warm the room was, how full her stomach, how hard her heart seemed to be beating. Each breath seemed more and more difficult to take in, each moment stretching on longer. She tried to keep up with the chatter but she knew she'd lost the train of discussion and her face had fallen into a somewhat painful, forced smile some time ago and appeared to have gotten stuck that way, her spine growing more and more rigid with each passing second. This was too much. All of it was too much. There was so much love in this room, so much love in this family, and it was something she just couldn't handle. She'd never felt anything like this and it was thoroughly overwhelming. Regina was lucky enough to have spent 28 years learning and growing, and 10 of those years being taught to love by sweet Henry. She, on the other hand, had taken refuge in a dark corner of Regina's heart and mind, ardently refusing to be touched by the weakening influence of emotions like this. However, now she was here, with love forced into her heart by Regina and love surrounding every inch of this room and this house and she found herself struggling to stay afloat under the most unexpected feeling imaginable: guilt. It was swelling up inside her and making her skin crawl, every inch of her feeling like she just wanted to tear herself open and let all of the pain and sorrow bleed out of her body. She excused herself from the table, unable to stay seated for one more minute, with some pathetic excuse about wanting to clean the kitchen, and very nearly stumbled from the room in her haste to escape. By the time she reached the sink she could hardly stand, her knuckles white as she gripped the countertop for stability. Her breath was coming out in gasps, her eyes squeezed shut in a useless attempt to block out the flooding memories that felt like they could literally crush her. It seemed she could remember, somehow, the face of every person whose heart she had ripped out, whose life she had stolen, and they had chosen this moment to come back to her in wave after wave of pained cries and horrified screams. Her own heart was seizing and stuttering erratically within the confines of her chest as vision after vision of the hell she had wrought on so many innocent people rained down on her. She wasn't even aware she was sobbing until there were hands on her shoulders turning her away from the sink and fingers on her cheeks wiping away the rivers running down them.
"Regina?" Emma's voice was tender and concerned, far more tender than she deserved, and it only caused her sobs to grow harsher and stronger. Her brain was screaming at her to swat the gentle touches away, push Emma back, lash out and make her hurt for daring to approach her with such kindness when she was surely nothing but a monster who deserved to be punished for all she had done.
"Get off me." Her voice was choked and scratchy, coming out broken by tears. Emma dropped her hands to her sides but didn't back away, staying right up in the Queen's personal space, so close she had to stare at her feet in order to keep from looking Emma in the eyes.
"Hey, what happened? What's going on?" Again the tenderness was there and it was like acid against her skin. Her mind was fighting with her heart, the love Regina had shared with her pushing her to open up while every long-ingrained instinct told her to shut down, hide behind her walls and protect herself at all costs. Before either side could come out victorious, Emma made the mistake of reaching out again, her hands resting on the Queen's shoulders as if to pull her into a hug. All it took was the slightest tug on her body, pulling her forward towards Emma's waiting arms, and she snapped. She threw out her hands and Emma was flying backwards, slamming into the far wall with a sickening crunch and sticking there, suspended at an awkward angle by unseen restraints.
"I said get off me you fool! How dare you!? What right do you have to put your hands on me?" She was screaming, the growling sneer she had perfected over the years breaking through despite the tears still making their way down her face. She stalked forward, her fury growing as she tightened her magical hold on Emma. Though the physical pain she was inflicting was obvious, etched across the planes Emma's face, not a single hint of fear could be found on her features and this only served to further intensify the Queen's anger.
"You come to me like I am some fragile thing that needs to be coddled? You think I won't hurt you? Won't kill you? You think I couldn't rip your heart out? You think I won't?" She was right up against Emma now, her head tilting to the side as she regarded her, staring deeply into her eyes and finding hideous amounts of compassion within them. She let out a shattered cackle and placed a clawed hand over Emma's breastbone and was pleased to feel the slightest flinch against her finger tips.
"That's right Emma. You should be scared. I have killed thousands, thousands. I have taken hearts and snapped necks for far lesser reasons than your constant insolence. I have burned whole villages to the ground and yet you think you are safe enough to put your hands on me and try to make me weak in front of you?" Her voice had turned grating, passing through the air with a venomous hiss. Emma finally found her voice, pushing it forward against the pressure on her chest and on her throat.
"I know. I know you Regina."
"No!" The Queen shrieked, one hand grabbing Emma's chin and squeezing viciously, the one on her chest slamming through muscle and bone and wrapping shaking fingers around Emma's heart. "You have no idea what I'm capable of!"
"Let her go." The voice booming through the room from behind the Queen startled her, the hand around Emma's heart clenching and causing a pained gasp to escape her lips. No sooner had Emma cried out than the Queen felt the sharp burn of a hand shoving its way through her back and latching on to her own heart. The instant the hand enveloped her pounding organ there was a surge of magic that exploded out from her chest, blowing the three women apart and releasing Emma from her place on the wall. They each collapsed to the floor, gasping and trying to collect themselves.
"What the hell was that?" Emma was cradling one arm to her body, clearly injured but trying to ignore it. The Queen was too stunned to respond, knowing as soon as the magic hit her what it was but completely unable to accept it. Regina, on the other hand, was dragging herself back up to sitting, leaning heavily against the kitchen cabinets behind her, and regarding Emma with a mix of awe and sorrow in her eyes.
"Love." Regina's voice was a quivering whisper, her own hand fluttering over her chest where she could feel her heart thundering away deep inside. "True love."
The Queen's sobs returned with full force and her gaze refusing to lift from the floor. Emma couldn't speak, couldn't find enough brain power to really process what Regina had said or consider the implications, but she managed to drag herself forward with her good arm until she was right in front of the Queen, laying her hand atop one of the balled fists on the cold floor. Tears hit their joined hands as the Queen shook her head back and forth, her long hair falling around her shoulders and obscuring her face.
"I'm sorry Emma. I'm so, so sorry."
When the Queen had staggered her way from the dining room, clearly holding on to her composure by a thread, Regina had been about to follow when Emma had pushed back her chair and stood, smiling at her sadly with a look that said "I got this". Henry, wise beyond his years, watched Emma leave the room in search of the Queen and gently patted Regina's arm before excusing himself to his room with promises to return and do the dishes in a little while. When she heard the screaming start she couldn't say she was surprised, knowing all too well how she reacted when she felt cornered and vulnerable, and even when the sound of a body crashing against a wall reverberated through the house she stayed where she was, trusting Emma to be able to handle herself when faced with the rage of the Queen, after all she had succeeded in doing just that so very many times before. It was only when Regina felt her own heart seize in her chest, somehow knowing with absolute certainty that the Queen was seconds away from attempting to tear Emma's from her chest, that she scrambled to her feet and ran towards the fight.
She hadn't thought before she shoved her hand into the mirror image of her own body, hadn't really considered anything other than her need to keep the Queen from making a mistake she could never come back from, but when the magic had blown the three of them apart she had realized her own error as her body hit the floor and a love the strength of which she had only felt once before overwhelmed every fiber of her being.
Regina watched as Emma brought herself back to the wrecked Queen, letting her forehead rest against the top of the Queen's head, her uninjured arm linking their hands on the floor and holding her up. For a few minutes she just watched the pair, Emma staying silent but raising her eyes to lock Regina's and the amount of anguish in them stole her breath. She moved herself towards them, coming up to fold her body around the Queen. Apology after apology tumbled from the Queen's lips, seemingly unable to stop herself.
"Regina." Emma's voice was nearly inaudible, but it drew two sets of dark, wet brown eyes to meet her own. "You deserve love. I know you. I really know you. I need you to hear me when I tell you how much you deserve this life, all of this." Her gaze, which had been bouncing between the two of them, settled on the Queen then. "You did hurt people. You did kill thousands of people. You did start wars and break hearts and rip apart families. You were a monster. I'm not going to lie to you, you have done unforgivable things, but you did it all because of how fucking much you love, and you became the monster you were because of all that love you have, because it was used against you and taken advantage of. You say you don't know how to love very well but I think you're wrong. You know how to love with your whole heart, so much more fully than I could ever even hope to love, you just have to let yourself."
Regina's hands were wrapped around the Queen's stomach, and she could feel her grip tightening with each word that fell from Emma's lips. The raw honesty in Emma's voice was burning in her gut, and she knew the impact they were having on the woman in her arms as the Queen's breathing shallowed out and she leaned into Regina's hold for support. The Queen raised on hand to tuck an unruly blonde curl behind Emma's ear, her finger tips dancing along Emma's cheek and trailing down her jaw line with reverent wonder.
"You're an idiot."
Emma chuckled, shaking her head and bring her fingers to wrap around then ones still on her chin.
"That might be true, but that doesn't mean I'm not right."
Regina smiled, Emma smiled, the Queen attempted a smile but only managed to suck in another shaking breath and let the last of her tears fall.
"I don't understand any of this." Her voice was weak and small, so much more like the lost girl alone on those first dark nights in the King's castle.
"You will." Regina's timber was deep and certain, her lips right next to the Queen's ear as she spoke. "You will."
Hours later the Queen was tucked into Regina's bed, sleeping off the emotional toll the morning had taken on her, Henry had cleaned up from breakfast and headed to Violet's after being assured that the three of them were fine and that everyone's hearts would remain in their respective chests, Emma was nursing more than a few bruises and her recently dislocated arm after refusing to allow Regina to do any more than pop it back into place, and Regina was sitting by the fire in her study trying desperately to figure out just what had occurred between the three of them when true love's magic had blossomed from their chests. She knew she had shared her love with her other half, literally combining their hearts and splitting their light and their darkness. She knew she had professed her love for herself and so it was entirely plausible that the magic had been generated by nothing more than the love between the two of them...but something kept nagging at her. Because when she had linked their hearts and slid them back within their bodies, no rainbow of light had burst forth, no blinding power declaring for all to see the depth of their feelings for each other. She knew true love could be many things. She had it with Henry, and he had it with Emma. But still...it wasn't until her heart was linked with the Queen's which was linked to Emma's, their hands creating a physical chain of connected magic, that true love's light had lit the room and filled their souls with unbridled warmth.
What did all of this mean? She knew her other self would be struggling with this same dilemma when she regained consciousness, and would almost certainly find herself feeling even more unsettled and knocked off-kilter by it than Regina herself did. But what of Emma? Would Emma read anything into it? Would Emma even have noticed the significance? With everything else going on in Emma's life right now, between a vengeful fairy, a prophecy of her death, a fiancé who'd run off rather than step up and be the man she deserved, and the way her health seemed to literally be failing as the world sucked up every last bit of energy the savior had to offer, Regina couldn't fault her for not wanting to consider the possibility of whatever it was that had happened. She didn't want to pressure her, she didn't want to add another layer of stress to Emma's life, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between them, something she had been missing for far too long, and something that, if she was right about why it had taken the three of them to create true love, could only be ignored for so long.