Chapter Thirty-Six: Anger and Pride
Henry pulled away from Emma and charged up the stairs the moment they entered the apartment. He'd been silent in the car on the way back from the diner, and Emma wasn't sure how to broach the subject with him. She felt wrong-footed and out of her depth, and she desperately wanted to be able to reach out to him with ease, as she had before she'd broken the curse.
Mary Margaret and David were both leaning on the counter of the small kitchen, deep in discussion with someone it took Emma a moment to place as the Mother Superior. The last time Emma had seen the other woman had been directly after she'd broken the curse and Gold had brought magic to Storybrooke.
All three of them looked up as Emma entered, their conversation breaking off abruptly. The Mother Superior stared at Emma with an appraising look, and something in her gaze unsettled the blonde. David was frowning, obviously thinking about something else, and Mary Margaret gazed at the stairs after Henry's retreating figure.
"It's good to see you safely returned, Miss Swan," Mother Superior said, inclining her head politely.
"It's good to be back," Emma replied. She floundered for a moment, trying to figure out what she should call the other woman. Mother Superior? Blue Fairy? Just Blue?
Before she could determine the appropriate title, however, Mary Margaret turned back to Emma and asked, "Is Henry alright?"
"We had a disagreement with someone at Granny's diner," Emma replied. She pulled offer her blue leather jacket and swung it over the back of one of the chairs. Running a hand through her hair, she said grimly, "He's upset about it, I think."
"And lunch with Regina?" David asked. "How did that go?"
Emma shrugged. "It was fine," she answered shortly. She didn't really want to go into any of the details, and, anyway, what was there to say? The fact that she and Regina had argued was hardly newsworthy, and she hadn't learned anything from Regina that David and Mary Margaret didn't already know.
She glanced at Mary Margaret. Regina had been quite sure that Leah would come after Mary Margaret again, would try to throw her back in jail. Leah wasn't going to listen to reason, and any chance Emma had had of talking sense into the redhead had already been ruined by her accidental destruction of that lamp. It was clear that Leah now viewed Emma as nothing more than an unpredictable and magically powerful extension of her parents.
Which meant that Mary Margaret was in very real danger.
Aloud, Emma asked, "Has Leah contacted you at all?"
"No," Mary Margaret said. She exchanged a worried look with David. "She will, though. We've been talking about that – about what we should do now."
Emma nodded slowly. She was unsure how she felt about the Mother Superior's inclusion in this conversation. Mary Margaret and David had both insisted that the one-time fairy was on their side, and that she'd only added her magic to the sheriff's station cells because she hadn't known what Leah and Stefan planned, but Emma found it hard to be as trusting. She didn't have a shared history with the other woman, and knew only that it was her magic that had locked away Mary Margaret.
"If Regina puts the protection barrier around her house again, I suppose we could stay there," Mary Margaret said thoughtfully, turning to David. "At the very least, it would provide us with a safe place at night."
David raised an eyebrow. "Will she agree?" he questioned doubtfully. His most recent interactions with Regina had been fraught with tension and arguments, and it was highly unlikely that she would welcome them back with open arms.
Emma couldn't help but share David's qualms. A single lunch with Regina had been awkward and uncomfortable, how would she manage if she had to interact with Regina every time she wanted to see Mary Margaret?
Then Mary Margaret said, "Well, I don't see why she would refuse. I mean, she wants Henry there, doesn't she?"
It took Emma a moment to realize what Mary Margaret was suggesting, and her jaw dropped. "You want all of us to stay with Regina?" she demanded. "You and David and Henry and I?"
Mary Margaret blinked at her in surprise, then sighed and said, "I know it sounds…" she gave a wry grin, "well, horrible, but I think it makes the most sense. Unless…" She trailed off for a moment, staring at Emma with a sudden gleam in her eyes. "Unless you can create a protection barrier around this apartment?"
"Me?" Emma repeated, taken aback. She shook her head automatically. "I'm not… I wouldn't even know how," she protested. "Besides, why can't Regina do it? There's no reason she can only create protection barriers around her own home, is there?" She narrowed her eyes. "Not that that last one worked very well."
"It worked extraordinarily well," Mother Superior countered calmly. She traced one finger over the counter in swiveling lines, her eyes never leaving Emma. "I tried to bring it down and could not."
Emma stared at her, nonplussed. She didn't want to think about the repercussions of that statement. The idea that she could be stronger than even the Blue Fairy was disconcerting. Regina had said as much, that bringing down the barrier should have been impossible. Emma had found it easier to ignore her words, forcing herself to believe that it was simply Regina defending her own power.
Now, though…
She turned away from the Mother Superior. "I don't know," she said reluctantly. "I don't really know what I'm doing."
Before Mary Margaret could respond to that, there were a series of heavy knocks on the door. David tensed automatically, and walked forward cautiously. Mary Margaret stepped around the counter and stood next to Emma, her expression resolute, and the Mother Superior drifted backwards, as though trying to slip out of the way.
David opened the door.
And everyone let out the breath they had been holding.
Leroy stalked into the room, face flushed with anger, Archie trailing behind him. Without waiting for an invitation, Leroy flung himself down at the kitchen table and announced, "Those fools at the diner are all up in arms now."
"About what?" Mary Margaret demanded worriedly.
Archie explained, "After Emma and Henry left, Richard got into an argument with a couple others about going home versus staying in Storybrooke. There doesn't seem to be any consensus on what should be done. People were shouting at each other when we left."
"Richard?"
"Someone I met at the diner," Emma answered Mary Margaret's question, her gaze flicking momentarily towards the stairs. Again, she felt overwhelming inadequate, wishing she had any idea what to say to Henry.
"We support you, of course," Archie said, nodding to Mary Margaret and David. "But there is a lot of unrest in this town, and I don't think people will be all that easily appeased."
"They can't go back," Mary Margaret murmured, shaking her head unhappily. "There's nothing to go back to – the land has been destroyed. We'd be slaughtered by the ogres."
Emma remembered the determination in Richard's eyes, the longing in his voice. "I don't think that matters to them," she replied. "At least, I don't think it would matter to Richard." She leaned against the counter. "What I'm more worried about is Leah capitalizing on this discord and discontent."
"How can she?" David countered. "She can set herself up opposite Mary Margaret and I, but she can't offer them a way home." Emma turned to face him fully, and he said, "I'm more worried about George."
"George?" Mary Margaret echoed. "Do you think he will try something?"
"Whatever else you want to say about Leah, she's smart enough to learn from past mistakes," David pointed out logically. "She won't rush into anything quite yet, because she'll want to see how Emma's reappearance plays out. This town can't take another mob setting fire to homes, surrounding the town hall and sheriff's station, threatening violence."
"And you think Leah cares enough about the town to want to avoid that?" Leroy scoffed.
"I do," Mary Margaret said softly.
Leroy didn't reply, but David said, "I think, at the very least, she will acknowledge that if any of those things happen while she is in control, it will reflect badly on her. Her main argument for needing power now is to keep the town safe and running properly, and if she can't do that, it will look bad. George, on the other hand…" He trailed off for a moment, then said, "He hasn't done much of anything since he got Mary Margaret thrown in prison, but now that she's out… He's managed to convince the other royals that he can be trusted, that he should have a say in things. I think he'll do anything at all to keep it that way, and he views us as a threat."
"Great," Emma muttered under her breath. She felt sympathy for Richard, and for everyone else who felt as though they'd lost their identity in Regina's curse. But she also couldn't quite comprehend the desire to return to the Enchanted Forest. The land itself was destroyed, but even if it hadn't been… She had to believe that life was better here, in Storybrooke. A feudal system might work well enough for the nobility, but what about everyone else? Life had been hard, and probably short, but those realities were obscured by nostalgia.
How much of Richard's desire to return to his home was actual, rational thought? And how much of it was simply the human tendency to view the past with rose-colored glasses?
"I do think you must find a way to work with Leah," the Mother Superior said suddenly, and Emma started, having forgotten that the other woman was even present. Leroy looked up and scowled at her, and Emma wondered, briefly, about the animosity in his eyes. Then the Mother Superior continued, "We cannot afford to waste time fighting each other with Cora on the loose," and Emma pushed away all other thoughts.
Cora was, after all, the real threat.
Something grabs her – long, slender fingers wrapping around her ankle, pulling her down into the ocean's depths. She struggles, trying to scream, but saltwater fills her lungs. Her fingers grab at seaweed and rocks as she tries to crawl along the ocean floor, but she's still sinking further, into the sand. Darkness seeps into her vision.
"Mom! Mom. Emma?"
Emma woke with a start, gasping for breath. She was lying on her back in her bed, the sheets tangled around her limbs. Her skin was slick with sweat, and her heart pounded heavily in her chest.
Henry was sitting on the edge of her bed.
"You were calling out in your sleep," Henry said. He was wearing pajamas, and his hair stuck up in every direction. His face was creased with lines from his pillow, and he was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. But she caught the fleeting look of fear – fear for her – in his expression as he met her confused gaze.
Emma glanced at the clock. It was the middle of the night.
She struggled out of the sheets and sat up in bed. Her tossing and turning had knocked the blanket and pillows to the ground, and the air was cold against her damp skin.
Her palms itched.
She glanced down. Tiny sparks of white light ran over her skin, starting at her wrists and disappearing at the tips of her fingers. She clenched her hands into fists and hid them quickly, hoping Henry hadn't seen.
"I'm sorry I woke you, kid," she said, her voice hoarse.
Henry shrugged. "Are you okay?" he asked, edging closer to her on the bed. "Was it a bad dream?"
Emma nodded, and wrapped an arm around him, careful to keep her fingers curled over her palms. If Henry noticed, he didn't comment on it.
"I'm fine," Emma said after a moment.
"What did you dream?"
"It was just about the Enchanted Forest," Emma replied, unwilling to go into the details. She could still feel the weight of the water pressing down on her from all sides, still hear the ringing in her ears. It hadn't happened the way she'd dreamt, of course. There was no creature that had dragged her to her death, no sandy ocean floor that had nearly swallowed her. She had merely fallen over the side of the ship and almost drowned, and that was terrifying enough without her subconscious adding monsters.
She let out a slow, shaky breath. "Come on," she said, giving Henry a quick hug and then pushing him out of the bed, "it's the middle of the night. You should be asleep." And she got up and led him back to his own room.
She held her breath in the hallway. Mary Margaret and David were sleeping on the sofa downstairs, alternating turns keeping watch in case George or Cora or even Leah came charging into the apartment. She wasn't sure which one would be awake now, and didn't particularly want either to know of her nightmares.
But they made it to Henry's new bedroom – what had once been Mary Margaret's – without drawing attention, and Emma tucked Henry back into the bed. As she did so, she thought over Mary Margaret's earlier question. Could Emma create a protection barrier around the apartment? Or could they convince Regina to do so? At least that way David's paranoia about losing his wife again wouldn't keep him and Mary Margaret up all night.
Henry pulled the blankets up to his chin and asked, "Are you going to be able to sleep now?"
Emma ruffled his hair. "Isn't it my job to look after you?" she countered. She was both amused and concerned by his precociousness. Did he feel like he couldn't be a child anymore? Had the current mess in this town forced him to grow up too quickly?
"As long as you don't go anywhere," Henry replied with a smile that did not quite cover the anxiety in his eyes.
"I won't," Emma said fervently. "I promise."
Emma left a moment later, and returned to her own room. She stared at her bed for a long moment, but found that she didn't want to climb back under the covers. The weariness had faded, and she was now strangely wide awake. Besides, if she slept, she might dream, and she couldn't take the chance of waking Henry again. She didn't want to worry him.
She stared down at her hands. The sparks had stopped, and her skin no longer itched. She rubbed her palms against her pajama pants and sighed.
Then she turned and walked back out of the room. If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well go relieve whoever was on watch.
The next morning, Emma pushed her cereal around in her bowl with a spoon and watched as Henry devoured a third helping of his own breakfast. She glanced up at Mary Margaret, who gave her a shrug as though to say boys will be boys, and made a mental note to stock up on more cereal. And possibly other forms of food. Seriously – how much did preteen boys eat?
David had left early in the morning to check in at the sheriff's station. They were all curious whether Leah and Stefan would have left their guards there now that the cells were empty, or if they would have summoned them all to regroup. Mary Margaret had wanted to go as well, but both David and Emma had been against the idea, and she'd reluctantly conceded the merits in their point of view. Wandering around town in full view right now would only convince Stefan and Leah that they had to act sooner rather than later, and it was in everyone's best interest to delay the confrontation as much as possible.
But Emma could see the tension in Mary Margaret's face as she wandered around the apartment, idly straightening and dusting and organizing things. Being trapped in her own home was infinitely preferable to being trapped in a jail cell… but she was still trapped.
Emma watched silently as Mary Margaret walked up the stairs and disappeared from view.
When Henry finally finished the third bowl, Emma put down her own spoon and pushed away her nearly untouched breakfast. "Henry," she said, "can I see your storybook?"
Spending several hours awake keeping watch by herself had given Emma plenty of time to think about the state of the town, and she'd come to the conclusion that before she could figure out how to solve the various problems, she needed to understand more about the people involved. She wasn't sure who would be in the storybook, but if it contained anything at all about Leah and Stefan, about George, about Belle and her father, Emma wanted to see it.
Henry dropped his spoon into his bowl and stared at her with an unreadable expression. "I don't have it," he said quietly.
Emma started. Henry had been so adamant about protecting the book – or, rather, the final pages of the book – from Regina in the past; why would he have left it with her now? More importantly, why would he have left it behind at all? It had been one of his most prized possessions, and Emma couldn't imagine why he would have willingly parted with it.
Had Regina forced it from him somehow?
"Oh. Did you want to bring it with you?" Emma asked.
Henry shrugged. He wouldn't meet her gaze.
Emma bit her lip. Should she press the issue, try to get an explanation for Henry's uncharacteristic behavior? Or would pushing only make him less likely to share his thoughts? Should she leave it alone for now, and hope that he would tell her later?
Deciding on the more direct option and desperately hoping it was the right one, she said, "So you chose to leave it at Regina's house?"
Henry stared at her blankly. "No. Cora has it."
Emma blinked. Mary Margaret had appeared on the stairs again, and Emma cast a questioning look in her direction.
"I forgot," Mary Margaret admitted as she rejoined them in the kitchen. She gave Emma an apologetic glance. "We really did try to fill you in on everything, but a lot has happened," she smiled wryly, "and I forgot about Cora stealing the book."
"Why would Cora take it?" Emma asked, confused.
"To better understand everyone in the town so she can destroy us all," Mary Margaret answered with a heavy sigh. She glanced at Henry, as though weighing what she should and shouldn't say in front of him, then added delicately, "We're pretty sure that that is how she learned about Leah's fear of fire."
Emma accepted this in troubled silence. If Cora had in fact orchestrated the burning down of Leah and Stefan's house, if she had manipulated that mob to go after Leah with burning torches… what else would she do? What else was she capable of? With that sort of information at her fingertips, the possibility were endless.
Of course, the fact that Leah was in the book brought up a different question: whose stories were included?
To Henry, she asked, "Do you remember what stories are in the book?"
Henry shrugged discontentedly. "I don't know." His terse answers were even more uncharacteristic than his sudden apathy for the book, and Emma was growing more and more concerned.
And more and more unsure of how to proceed.
"Anyway," Henry continued sullenly, "It's probably not the whole story. The book probably left out all the important parts." He slid out of his seat and stood up, then carried his bowl to the sink. Emma watched as he rinsed it and shoved it a bit harder than necessary into the dishwasher. He lingered there a moment, as though unwilling to turn around and face Emma again.
Emma gave Mary Margaret yet another questioning look.
But this time Mary Margaret didn't have an answer.
"Are there other important parts that were left out?" Emma asked finally. She wasn't used to this, to having to pry answers out of Henry. He'd never been unwilling to talk to her before, and more often she'd struggled to find a way to get him to stop talking.
She wanted the old Henry back.
And she immediately felt guilty for even entertaining that thought. This was still Henry, and whether he was energetic and optimistic and full of smiles or sullen and uncommunicative, he was still her son.
Henry looked at her, conflicting emotions warring on his features. It was clear that he wanted to tell her what was bothering him, and equally clear that he also didn't want to talk about it at all. But Emma couldn't think of anything that would inspire such conflicting emotions in her son. And if Henry hadn't confided in Mary Margaret or David, who would he have told? Regina?
Emma was about to dismiss that thought as unrealistic when the answer suddenly came to her.
"Cora's not in the book," she said.
Henry hesitated, wavered, then said in a rush, stumbling over his words in his hurry to get everything out, "No, she's not, and there's not anything else about my mom from before she was the Evil Queen, either. There's not Rumpelstiltskin teaching her magic or Daniel and what Cora did, and I didn't know..." He swallowed convulsively. "My mom said that she still did a lot of bad things, and the past wasn't an excuse for it. That other stuff in the book… about her being evil… that's all true. But I still… I wish I had known about… about everything."
Emma stared almost uncomprehendingly at Henry. Regina had admitted that she'd committed atrocities in the past and hadn't tried to completely blame others for it?
"Well, you know now," Mary Margaret said after it became clear that Emma didn't know how to answer. "It's later than you wanted, Henry, but you do know. And everyone can change – Regina is changing, and for the better."
Henry nodded mutely, looking small and sad.
And Emma decided she really needed to talk to Regina again.
"Oh. You again."
The utter lack of interest in Regina's voice did not surprise Emma, though she felt insulted by it. But Regina stepped aside without protest and allowed Emma entrance into her home.
Emma glanced around at the spacious house, and found herself automatically comparing it to the cramped apartment she'd just left. The mayoral mansion was expansive and airy, and everything in it carried an aura of glamor and style. But it felt strangely impersonal and empty compared to the warmth of Mary Margaret's home.
It reminded Emma of Regina's castle in the Enchanted Forest – so many rooms and so much emptiness.
"How is Henry?" Regina asked after she's gestured for Emma to take a seat on the pristine white sofa in the living room.
"He's fine," Emma said. It wasn't really the truth, but she wasn't sure how to put into words what was wrong with Henry… and, anyway, she had a feeling Regina already knew.
"Good," Regina said. She crossed one leg over the other and regarded Emma intently. "I've been thinking, and I still don't believe it is wise to send Henry to school. In fact, I would be concerned that it is even more dangerous now than it was before."
"Oh?" Emma demanded. She'd given little thought to whether Henry should return to school – and even less to how she and Regina would handle any sort of parenting – but she did not want to set the precedent of Regina unilaterally making all the decisions.
"Before it was just my mother," Regina explained, seemingly unaware of Emma's thoughts, "but now that you have returned and Miss Blanchard is no longer in prison, I fear that there is the very real danger that he may become a target as a means of getting to you and your parents."
"You mean someone like Leah might try to kidnap him?" Emma asked skeptically.
Regina shrugged. "Leah is unlikely – even she wouldn't stoop to kidnapping children." She paused thoughtfully, then added, "Though she might think it justified given that you left her daughter behind… twice." Emma flushed in anger and embarrassment, but Regina ignored that and continued, "It is, at the moment, the mob mentality in the town that concerns me more."
"I see," Emma said. She folded her arms over her chest, then dropped them to her side. She felt anxious, fidgety. She wanted to get up and start pacing.
"Is something wrong, dear?" Regina asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
Instead of answering the question, Emma asked, "Can you put a protection barrier around Mary Margaret's apartment? Like the one you had here?"
Regina smirked, and retorted bitingly, "I thought you believed my magic to be weak?"
Emma curled her hands around the edge of the sofa, fingers digging into the fabric. "A mob wouldn't be able to get through it, regardless of how strong your magic is," she said. She was reluctant to admit to the truth – that she did now finally believe that Regina's protection barrier had been impenetrable. The repercussions of that statement for her own magic were too disconcerting to face.
Regina rolled her eyes. "Then why don't you do it yourself?" she drawled, goading Emma.
Emma stared down at her hands and slowly stretched her fingers. "I'm not sure how," she snapped. "And I'd rather that the barrier protecting Henry be done by someone who knows what they are doing." She glanced up at Regina in time to see the flicker of concern in her eyes at the mention of Henry's safety. Then she frowned, and asked, "Or will it hurt you – I mean, because of the curse…"
Regina met Emma's gaze steadily. "I doubt it will kill me," she said derisively, "though any magic is problematic now. Still…" She rose to her feet and walked over to the window where she stood staring out onto her lawn, her back to Emma. "I am more concerned about Henry's safety."
"He's safe enough with me," Emma said, both attempting to offer reassurance and defend her ability to look after her son.
Regina cast a dismissive look in Emma's direction and countered, "My mother is in town. No one is safe."
Emma didn't answer for a moment. She didn't want to start an argument – and Regina was right, Cora's presence did put everyone in danger. But Emma felt certain that Henry was just as safe with her as he would have been with Regina, and saw no reason for the other woman to question it.
At last, the blonde changed the subject slightly, and said, "Mary Margaret and David think Leah and Stefan will wait for a bit before doing anything. They'll… uh… they'll want to see how everyone reacts to… to me being back. Although… David thinks George is a more serious threat to us now."
Regina pursed her lips. "David never appreciated the nuance in George's actions," she said flatly. She leaned against the wall and faced Emma fully, arms folded over her chest. "Though I agree with the assessment of Leah. Stefan will want to rush into things, but Leah is more cautious. Too cautious, really." She sighed. "They balance each other out well."
The assessment of Stefan and Leah should have been interesting to Emma, but she was more focused on the first remark, on the implied insult to David. "George has nuance?"
Regina nodded, her gaze wandering, and said vaguely, "He's hardly a power-mad lunatic, no matter what your two charming idiots think."
"They're not idiots," Emma snapped, rising to her feet as well. She stepped around the furniture and walked towards Regina's spot by the window.
Regina ignored her response and continued with her own train of thought, "But he does believe that he has a legitimate grudge against David. I will concede that – and it makes him a threat." She turned her attention back to Emma. "But do you expect me to believe that you came here to discuss Leah and George, Miss Swan?"
Emma was torn between continuing to defend her parents against Regina's snide remarks and bringing the conversation to the actual point of her visit. In the end, discussing the storybook won out – primarily because the sooner she got answers, the sooner she could leave.
"I was talking to Henry about the storybook. He was really upset."
"Yes. My mother can do a lot of damage now that she has that," Regina said softly. She turned her head away, staring once again out the window. "I forgot about it," she admitted reluctantly. "I should have asked for it when I saw her."
"I think you getting away from her before she caused you any serious damage was more important," Emma replied automatically - and was surprised to find that she at least partially meant it. Regina must have sensed the honesty in Emma's words, because she gave the blonde a started look. Uncomfortable, Emma pressed on, "But, actually, he seemed far more upset about what isn't in the book, rather than who has it."
Regina's expression went completely blank, shutters dropping over her eyes. "He told you about that," she said in a tone devoid of emotion.
"Yes," Emma replied, unable to read Regina. She studied the other woman intently, but could glean nothing from the mask. "Well – sort of." She hesitated. "Daniel isn't in the book."
"Don't," Regina said, a flash of fury mingled with grief breaking through the mask. She struggled for a moment, then the façade was back, and she said, "I have nothing to say about that matter, dear."
But Emma couldn't let go of the issue. There was too much here, too much she had to understand, "Your mother isn't in the book, either, and I can't imagine being raised by her was…" she trailed off, unable to adequately finish the sentence, then said, "Well, it seems like it should have been included."
Regina spun away from her and stalked over to the sofa. She stood, leaning against its back, her hands clutching the top edge of the cushions as though to keep herself upright. Emma couldn't see her expression, but she could feel the anger palpable in the air.
"I'm sorry," Emma murmured, guilt pricking her conscience. "Regina – I'm not trying to bring this up to be cruel. I just… I want to understand. I need to."
"Why?" Regina demanded, whirling to face her. The mask was gone. Her eyes were dark with ferocity, and her pale skin was stained with splotches of color on either cheek. "Why do you need to understand? Why does any of it truly matter to you?"
"Because it matters to Henry!" Emma retorted heatedly. Her palms were starting to itch.
"Does it?" Regina retorted scathingly. "Henry shouldn't even know. Dr. Hopper had no right to tell him anything about Daniel, and I do not want him knowing a single thing about my childhood with her."
The pure venom in her words took Emma aback, but then the blonde replied in frustration, "But he does know." Anger and annoyance rose in her chest. "And what he doesn't know, he can figure out. You can't just pretend that it isn't out there." She wished she could just make Regina understand, wished she could force her to actually listen.
But Regina simply glared at Emma.
"You're going to have to talk to Henry about it eventually…" Emma started.
"Do not tell me what I should or shouldn't do in regards to my son!" Regina interrupted.
Emma opened her mouth to retort, then stopped herself. Escalating the argument wouldn't help anything, though she desperately wanted to keep yelling. Regina got under her skin like no one else ever could, and had a way of bringing out the worst in her.
She forced herself to close her mouth, to swallow back her angry words.
"Our son," Emma said finally.
Regina didn't answer. She folded her arms over her chest and stared at Emma mutinously. But she didn't argue.
Regina had absorbed a deadly curse because Henry had asked her to. Her first priority upon Cora's return had been Henry's safety. Even now, her first question when Emma had walked through the door had been about Henry. And David – David, of all people – trusted her with Henry.
Emma knew all that, accepted it – but she also couldn't forget the miserable boy who'd shown up on her doorstep, who'd felt alone and isolated in his own home, whose mother had sent him to a therapist in the hopes of convincing him that he was crazy. And she couldn't forget Henry's pale form lying in that hospital bed.
She honestly had no idea how they were supposed to navigate the mess that lay between them. Mary Margaret lived in a world where everything turned out sunshine and roses, where optimism was the most obvious choice, where heroes won and villains lost and if she just believed in a happy ending hard enough, it would come true.
That world was not the world Emma knew, and as much as Mary Margaret believed that everyone could be redeemed…
Emma wanted to believe that, but the lessons from her childhood hadn't been to give people second chances.
Tentatively, she asked, "Did you read the storybook?"
"Cover to cover," Regina replied irritably. Her gaze was fixed downwards, on Emma's hands. "Please don't burn down my home."
"Huh?" Emma looked down. The tips of her fingers were glowing. "What the… when did that start?" she muttered.
"During our… disagreement," Regina replied coolly. "Magic is tied to emotions, dear. And you don't seem to be able to control either."
Emma slowly curled and straightened her fingers until the glowing stopped, then held them stiffly at her sides, hyperaware of how awkward she looked.
She thought it was a bit unfair of Regina to accuse her of not being able to control her emotions – the pot calling the kettle black. But she didn't want to continue the argument. It was exhausting, and, anyway, it was entirely possible she'd end up setting the house on fire.
Instead, she pressed, "And there is nothing at all about Cora in the book? About when she was younger – before you?"
Regina shook her head. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. "I wish there was. But no. I have no answers about my mother, Miss Swan, and I do not know why she hates Snow White so much." She gave Emma a pointed, accusatory look, "I already told you that."
"I know, I know," Emma said quickly. "And I believed you. I'm not questioning what you said, I just…" She sighed. "I really wish we knew anything at all about her."
Regina offered a sardonic smile. "Indeed."
Then Emma furrowed her brown in confusion. "Wait. Why doesn't anyone know her?" she demanded. "There are several kingdoms worth of people in this town. Shouldn't someone know her?"
"My mother never really liked strangers," Regina answered. "We did not frequently entertain guests."
"But what were you? Nobility of some sort?" Emma asked curiously. After all, if Regina's family had been able to employ a stable boy, and presumably several other servants, they must have been wealthy. And if Leopold had considered marrying Regina, they were probably some sort of nobility. Or did the kingdoms of the Enchanted Forest work differently from old feudal societies in this realm?
"Just wealthy," Regina replied. "Very wealthy." She took a seat again, and Emma hesitantly did the same. "We lived in Leopold's kingdom, though my mother and father frequently indicated that it had not always been that way. I don't know where they came from originally, or why they would have moved… it was all before my time."
"It still seems like someone should know them," Emma protested.
Regina frowned. "Perhaps," she conceded. "But it is also possible that people knew my mother before she married my father, before she had me. Cora is not a common name, but it is not particularly uncommon, either." She huffed, and added scathingly, "Not as ridiculous as naming your daughter Snow." She gave Emma a shrug. "If anyone did know her before, they might simply not have put two and two together. They might not realize the Cora they knew and my mother are one and the same." Regina paused for a moment, thinking, then said, "Unfortunately, I don't know who those people would be. Like I said, my mother did not entertain guests, and I know little about her life before."
"And you can't think of anyone who would?" Emma asked.
"No," Regina said.
And Emma was absolutely sure that Regina was lying.
The Enchanted Forest, a long time ago…
Eva knew she was being a coward, but all the same, she waited until all the visiting royalty and nobility had left so there would be fewer witnesses to what would undoubtedly result in a vicious argument and possibly humiliation.
Edward had departed early in the morning, returning to his maritime kingdom. His heavily pregnant wife had been unable to make the journey to the coronation ceremony, and he was eager to reach her before the imminent birth. He's spent most of the visit telling anyone who would listen that he planned to name his son and heir Eric, and that the boy would be a great mariner, and nobody was particularly sorry to see him leave.
Leah and Stefan had left midmorning. Leah had bid farewell to Eva – the first and last words she had uttered to Eva at all. The young redhead had been far too engrossed in her new husband, constantly gazing lovingly at Stefan in a most undignified manner, to notice anything happening around her. Eva wasn't sure Leah had interacted with Francis or Blanche, or even Cora, at all during her stay.
Love, Eva reflected, made people entirely oblivious to everyone else around them.
Of course, Eva had heard her parents murmur about Leah's kingdom, about how self-supporting and independent it was. Leah didn't need to pay attention to anyone else here because her kingdom didn't need trade to survive.
Thomas and Primrose were the only other royals who had attended the ceremony, and they departed midafternoon with a bizarre explanation about needing to make arrangements for a great tower to be built. The other kingdoms had sent nobility – dukes and duchesses and royal ambassadors – in place of the rulers themselves, and by the early evening, everyone had left.
Only Eva and her parents remained - and Leopold, who had insisted that he would wait and depart when they did so that he might accompany them along the main road through the Enchanted Forest.
Although Eva had made up her mind to approach Cora and apologize for past behavior, she hadn't quite worked up the courage to actually do it. And she wanted none of the visiting dignitaries to witness it. Unlike Leopold, she had no delusions about how this would end – Cora would not accept her apology, would not let go of her grudge. She clearly did not want any kind of reconciliation, nor were all her actions now determined by past problems. After all, Blanche was a frequent target of Cora's contempt, and what had Blanche ever done but welcome her new sister-in-law when others were still unsure of Cora's worth?
Eva sighed.
There was a large courtyard in the center of the castle, its ground made of moss-covered stones with tiny red and blue flowers poking through the cracks. The courtyard was surrounded on all sides by wide arches that led into the rest of the castle, and underneath the arches were several marble benches. When the weather was nice, a small platform could be placed near one entrance to approximate a stage, allowing musicians to play while guests drifted about in an informal manner.
The day was uncommonly pleasant for the time of year, and with the visiting nobility mostly gone, Francis and Blanche had invited several of their own courtiers to relax in the courtyard. Cora was present, of course, taking her usual spot at the center of attention. The courtiers moved in circles around her, orbiting to stay in her presence.
Eva watched from the shadows of one of the arches.
"Trying to convince yourself that you are not at fault, dearie?"
Eva spun around, surprised by the low voice that had whispered to her from further back in the shade of the castle.
He was standing there.
He wore a traveling cloak with the hood pulled up over his features, but she still saw the telltale glint of sunlight reflecting off his scaly skin. He smiled, yellowed teeth barely visible beneath the hood.
"Rumplestilskin," Eva said. She was both startled to see him here, and yet somehow also… so very not surprised at all. She still did not know what he wanted, why he had shown such interest in her, and as Leopold had pointed out, he was not someone she should trust.
He sidled closer to her, creeping over the stones. No one seemed to pay him any attention – but then, all eyes were of course on Cora.
Eva narrowed her own eyes in suspicion. "How do you know what I am thinking?" she demanded. "Can you read my mind?"
"Don't be silly," Rumplestilskin replied, waving his fingers. He giggled softly. "But I recognize a guilty conscience when I see it, dearie." He rested his hand on the stone wall beside her. "You do not want to face the possibility that Cora's dislike of you is justified. That, given the right circumstances, she could change."
"That's not – that's not true," Eva protested defensively. She pulled away from him. "I want her to change. I want her to be… to be decent." She shook her head bitterly. "But she won't. And I certainly won't be able to make her see reason."
"Then why are you so afraid to try?" Rumplestilskin countered. His eerie gaze was fixed on her, watching her with barely-disguised amusement. She was fairly certain he was mocking her.
"I thought you wanted me to use the potion," Eva argued. "That's why you gave it to me, isn't it?"
"I offered it to you because I wanted to help," Rumplestilskin replied. He reached out and ran his fingers down her cheek. She shivered at the touch, and even more at his words, "You are very important for the future, you know."
"The future? What do you mean?" she demanded, fighting back to the urge to physically bat his hand away. Instead, she took another step away from him until she was pressed up flat against the stone wall, now completely hidden from the courtyard beyond.
Rumplestilskin stared at her for a moment, his gaze unfocused. Then he shook his head and said in a flat, ordinary voice, "You are the only heir to your parents' kingdom." He gave her a crooked grin, his head titled to the side. "What did you think I meant, dearie?"
Eva slid her hand into the pocket fashioned along the waist of her dress, her fingers closing around the potion vial. It was still cool to the touch despite being pressed against her skin for several hours. "What does the potion do?" she asked.
"Weren't you listening the last time I explained it to you?" Rumplestilskin chided.
"Yes, but telling me it will reveal her true colors is rather… vague."
He smiled. "Ah, but perhaps you won't need to use it. Perhaps Cora can change. Perhaps if you were to speak to her, to apologize…"
Eva averted her gaze. "You know?" she asked, confused. Despite her earlier suspicions that he had known Cora in the past, she couldn't understand how he would know anything about that particular incident. Unless, for some reason, Cora had confided in him… but that didn't seem likely. Cora did not confide in anyone.
"Only bits and pieces," he said, making that strange, frivolous gesture with his hands again. "Cora once told me she wanted to see everyone on her knees… because it was a place she had so recently been."
Eva flushed, ashamed. "It was stupid and childish," she said, a hint of defiance creeping into her voice, "but she has completely overreacted." She turned her head to the side, looking towards the archway that led into the courtyard. She could hear the steady rise and fall of music, the soft patter of voices, the gentle tread of footsteps on the stone.
"Fear is a powerful motivator," Rumplestilskin answered softly, unknowingly echoing Leopold's own analysis of Cora's actions.
Eva frowned at the statement. "It isn't fear," she muttered obstinately, still unwilling to concede that there was any validity in Cora's grudge. "She's drunk on power." She turned to face hm. "Apologizing will do nothing. You may think she can change, but I sincerely doubt it."
Rumpelstiltskin gave a wholly untrustworthy grin. "So prove me wrong," he challenged, then slipped back into the shadows before disappearing completely.
It wasn't until after he left that Eva realized he'd never adequately answered her question: what would the potion actually do?
Blanche watched Cora from her solitary seat on one of the benches in the courtyard. She was relieved that most of the guests from the other kingdoms had left. She'd survived the coronation and ceremonial celebrations, and the constant humiliations that Cora cast her way.
She hadn't truly expected anything different, but some part of her had still desperately hoped that with Francis as king, Cora's behavior would change.
It had been a foolish hope.
A servant paused before Blanche and bowed his head respectfully as he held out a platter with flutes of sparkling wine. She took a glass of wine mechanically, doubting she would actually drink. She was exhausted. The coronation would have been stressful under the best of circumstances, and Cora's presence only added to the strain. She'd spent most of the past several days holding her breath, waiting for everything to fall to pieces.
It hadn't, and she supposed she should be happy about that – but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was still something worse to come.
She heard footsteps behind her and glanced to the side as Eva stepped into the courtyard. The brunette princess offered a perfunctory smile, a greeting Blanche returned with a nod of her head.
She knew that Eva found her boring. She didn't mind – she found Eva to be a spoiled and melodramatic princess with no actual concept of what it took to rule. She'd have to learn sooner or later of course, particularly if Blanche was correct in her suspicions about Leopold's intentions. If Leopold and Eva married, upon the death of Eva's parents, Leopold's land would absorb the Northern kingdom, making him the ruler of one of the largest kingdoms in the Enchanted Forest. And Eva would be the queen.
It was actually a concerning thought, Blanche reflected, that such a large land would be ruled by someone who could not tell the difference between steady and boring.
But Eva had been different on this visit… less pretentious. Perhaps that was a good sign.
She watched silently as Eva crossed the courtyard, approached Cora. The two women spoke for a moment, then Cora stepped away from her circle of courtiers to give her conversation with Eva some privacy. Blanche narrowed her eyes in suspicion; she could not imagine that the two had anything to say to each other.
Private conversations with Cora never went well.
Blanche lowered her gaze to the ground, remembering the first time she had spoken to Cora outside the constant circle of sycophants.
It had been the night of Cora's wedding to Henry. Xavier's dynasty had been secure for the next two generations – Blanche and Francis had been married for nearly three years, and she'd already given him a child. Henry's marriage was therefore of little consequence to the stability of the kingdom, and he should have been able to choose anyone he wanted. But his father had chosen for him – a stupid, reckless taunt against a poor miller's daughter who had ended up proving him wrong and demanding he give her what he had promised, his son's hand in marriage. Blanche had pitied Henry originally; not because she had thought any less of Cora on account of her upbringing, but because she had assumed this meant that Henry would not be able to marry for love.
It had taken her some time to realize that Henry did in fact love Cora – or, at least, he worshiped her. Cora had passion and fire, and both traits were appealing, even mesmerizing. Henry had fallen for her without fully seeing who she was... or perhaps he was willfully blind.
It was not a healthy relationship by any means, and Cora's indifference was painful to watch. But Henry's happiness did not matter to Cora any more than it had mattered to Xavier.
Before the wedding ceremony, Blanche had approached Cora, had welcomed her into the family and offered her best wishes for the marriage and Cora's future.
Cora had given her a single, brief glance, and then turned away, ignoring her completely.
At the wedding itself, Cora had unemotionally stated her vows and them immediately left Henry's side, and had not once looked at him throughout the night. She'd clung to Xavier's arm, laughing at his caustic comments and making her own contributions. She'd been smart enough to quickly gain the favor of the courtiers present by complimenting them, fawning over them, promising to spin them cloth of gold. She drew them to her, promising riches to her favorites and setting themselves up against each other so that they'd fight for her favor.
If Blanche hadn't been so horrified by it all, she'd have been quite impressed.
Blanche was startled from her thoughts by the sound of Cora's low laughter. She looked up sharply. Cora and Eva had drifted even further from Cora's circle of followers and were now nearly in front of Blanche. Cora held a glass of wine in one hand, and the other hand was rested on her hip.
"So now you've finally realized that you need me?" Cora hissed venomously. "Pity, dear Eva, but I think you figured that out too late."
"I don't – this isn't about needing…" Eva stammered. She shook her head and said firmly, "Cora, I am just trying to apologize for what I did. I didn't think-"
"No," Cora cut her off. "No, you did not think." Her fingers tightened around the thin stem of her wine glass, so tight that Blanche thought she might shatter it. "You never think of anyone other than yourself."
"That's not true," Eva protested angrily, face flushed. She paused, took a breath. "I am sorry," she offered, forcing the words through gritted teeth. They came out hesitantly, reluctantly, but Eva pressed on regardless, "My actions were childish."
Cora smiled dangerously, "An apology changes nothing, particularly one you have only offered because you've finally accepted that I can destroy you." She hesitated for just a moment, then said almost casually, "But perhaps I would think differently if you knelt." And she gestured towards the stones beneath their feet.
Blanche rose to her feet quickly, and crossed to join Eva and Cora. She wasn't sure what exactly she would say, but she knew that she needed to stop this conversation before it spiraled completely out of control.
But as soon as she joined then, Cora turned to her and said icily, "Stay out of this, Blanche. It does not concern you."
"Cora, please…"
Cora eyes sparkled maliciously. "Eva was just about to kneel. Would you like to join her?"
"Cora, don't be stupid," Eva interjected, aghast. "Blanche is your queen."
"Yes, but let's not pretend she has any real power here," Cora retorted airily, raising her glass to her lips and taking a sip. Her eyes landed on this thin silver diadem resting in Blanche's hair. "We both know she only wears that crown because I allow it."
"No one is denying the value that you provide the kingdom," Blanche agreed quickly, desperate enough to keep the conversation under control that she was willing to overlook so obvious an insult to her position.
She'd never had a stomach for confrontations.
"Is that so?" Cora asked, stepping closer to Blanche. "Only Xavier truly appreciated my talents," she said. "Your fool of a husband is hardly fit to wear his father's crown."
Blanche swallowed, and again refused to address the insult. Instead, she said in an appeasing tone, "My father-in-law gave you a voice in the council, in all the affairs of the land, and Francis has no intention of changing that."
"Oh, for goodness sake, don't let her walk all over you, Blanche," Eva objected irritably.
"I don't want an argument," Blanche said wearily, glancing beyond them to the courtiers who – while keeping a respectful distance – were staring at the three of them in blatant curiosity. "It does no one any good."
But neither Cora nor Eva seemed inclined to listen to her.
"I am offering a chance for us to start over," Eva snapped, "You should take it now, while you still have the chance."
"Do you really think you can threaten me?" Cora replied, highly amused. "You have nothing that I need, Eva, but I can destroy you and your precious kingdom."
"Would you really ruin so many lives just to get your petty revenge?" Eva demanded.
"Don't pretend like you actually care about all your poor little peasants," Cora scoffed. "You are just desperately using them as a last chance gamble to plead with me."
"I do care," Eva declared. Her eyes hardened. "Do you really think you have power? You can create all the gold you want, Cora, but you still won't ever be queen."
Cora paused, seemingly thrown by that response. Then she licked her lips, her gaze flicking back to Blanche's crown. Even Blanche could see the greedy, covetous look in her eyes.
Eva shook her head angrily, but then swallowed and seemed to struggle with herself. Finally, she said softly, "I know why you dislike me, Cora – but what did Blanche ever do to you?"
"I take issue with her very existence," Cora replied lightly, laughing.
Blanche shook her head, months of resentment finally bubbling forth. "I accepted you into the family when Francis and Gabriel had qualms. I treated you with respect, I treated you kindly… Cora, I treated you like a sister! And you paid me back by mocking me at every turn."
Cora stepped closer. "You are one of them. Do you truly believe that I don't see the way you look at me? The way your darling husband skirts around me, avoids me at every opportunity? Do you think I don't notice the disdain in your eyes? You are royalty, Blanche, so let's not pretend that I am one of you."
"You are one of us. You could have been accepted if you just…" Blanche stopped, choking on the words. Frustration and anger bubbled in her chest. Cora's resentment was entirely a self-inflicted wound.
With the two of them focusing only on each other, neither of them noticed Eva's quick slight of hand as she emptied a small vial into Cora's drink.