The heavy oak door of Regina's mansion groaned as Emma Swan pushed it open, the sound echoing through the quiet foyer. She hesitated on the threshold, fidgeting with the strap of her leather jacket, the weight of her decision to come here pressing heavily on her chest. For a woman who regularly faced curses and monsters, asking for a dance lesson from Regina Mills felt oddly daunting.
"Emma," Regina's voice called from the parlor, smooth and authoritative. "You're late."
Emma rolled her eyes, the familiar bite of Regina's tone offering a small sense of normalcy. "Yeah, yeah, punctuality's not my strong suit." She stepped inside, her boots clicking against the polished floor as she followed the soft strains of classical music.
When Emma entered the parlor, she stopped short. The room was bathed in warm, golden light from a chandelier overhead, the shadows flickering softly in time with the crackling fire in the hearth. Regina stood near the center, dressed in an elegant black blouse and tight skirt, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. A record player in the corner spun a slow, lilting waltz.
Emma shoved her hands into her pockets, suddenly feeling underdressed in her jeans and flannel shirt. "Wow, this is…fancy."
Regina arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Did you expect anything less?"
"Guess not." Emma stepped further into the room, eyeing the setup. "So, uh, thanks for doing this. I could've asked Snow, but…"
"Snow would have been a terrible choice," Regina interrupted, her smirk widening. "Charming has two left feet, and your mother is even worse." She walked toward Emma with a fluid grace, extending a hand. "Come on. Let's see just how hopeless you are."
Emma snorted, though her stomach fluttered as she placed her hand in Regina's. "Don't sugarcoat it or anything."
Regina's fingers were cool and steady against Emma's as she guided her to the center of the room. "I don't waste time with platitudes, Miss Swan. If you want to avoid stepping on your husband's feet during your wedding dance, you'll listen and follow my lead."
The mention of Hook sent a brief pang of guilt through Emma, but she shoved it down. "Got it. Lead away, Your Majesty."
Regina stepped close, her hand resting lightly on Emma's waist while her other hand held Emma's in a firm yet gentle grip. Emma stiffened at the sudden proximity, her breath catching as the scent of Regina's perfume—something rich and floral—washed over her.
"Relax," Regina murmured, her voice softer now, almost coaxing. "You can't dance if you're this tense."
"Yeah, well, standing this close to you would make anyone tense," Emma muttered, avoiding Regina's gaze.
Regina chuckled, low and throaty, and Emma's cheeks burned. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were nervous."
"I'm not nervous," Emma lied, her voice too quick and sharp.
Regina's knowing smile only deepened as she began to guide Emma through the first steps of the dance. "One, two, three. One, two, three. Follow my movements. Don't overthink."
Easier said than done. Emma stumbled almost immediately, her foot catching Regina's.
"Sorry!" Emma grimaced, expecting Regina to snap at her, but Regina only tightened her grip slightly, steadying her.
"Stop apologizing. Try again."
Emma nodded, biting her lip as she focused on Regina's movements. The music swelled around them, the notes lilting and light. Slowly, Emma began to fall into rhythm, her steps matching Regina's. They moved together in a gentle circle, the rest of the world melting away until there was only the music and the warmth of Regina's hand on her waist.
"See?" Regina murmured, her lips curving into a small smile. "You're not entirely hopeless."
"Gee, thanks," Emma said, but there was no bite in her words. Her heart was pounding, though not from the effort of the dance.
The smile lingered on Regina's face as she glanced down at Emma's feet, making sure she stayed on time. "You're better at this than you give yourself credit for. You just need to trust yourself."
Emma's breath hitched. There was something about the way Regina said those words, her voice softer than Emma had ever heard it, that sent a shiver down her spine. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Emma felt an unfamiliar warmth bloom in her chest.
"So," Emma said, clearing her throat in an attempt to break the tension, "how do you know how to dance like this, anyway? Fancy mayor lessons?"
Regina tilted her head, her expression turning wistful. "I was a Queen long before I became mayor, Miss Swan." Her voice darkened slightly, the edge of bitterness unmistakable. "One of the few lessons I actually appreciated."
Emma frowned, the hint of pain in Regina's voice tugging at her. "Regina…"
Before she could say more, Regina's grip on her waist tightened, pulling her slightly closer. "Focus, Miss Swan. You're getting distracted."
Emma's cheeks burned, but she didn't argue. Instead, she let Regina guide her, their movements becoming smoother with every step. For a fleeting moment, Emma allowed herself to get lost in the dance, the closeness, and the way Regina's eyes softened when they looked at her.
But deep down, she knew this was dangerous territory.
The music shifted, the melody deepening into something slower, richer, as Regina guided Emma through the movements. Their steps were fluid now, the initial awkwardness gone, but with it came a tension Emma wasn't sure how to handle.
Regina's hand rested firmly against her waist, her other hand holding Emma's just tightly enough to ground her. The firelight flickered across Regina's face, softening the sharp edges of her features. She was breathtaking, and that thought alone made Emma's chest tighten.
"Better," Regina said, her voice low and smooth, a hint of approval in her tone. "You're not tripping over my feet anymore. I'd almost call that progress."
Emma grinned, trying to keep the mood light even as her pulse raced. "Careful, Regina. If you keep complimenting me, I might start thinking you like me."
Regina arched an elegant eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
Emma laughed, the sound breaking the tension for a brief moment. But then Regina spun her gently, their hands never losing contact, and when Emma returned to face her, the air between them shifted again. The laughter faded, replaced by something heavier, something that made Emma's throat dry.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Emma asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
"Like what?" Regina countered, her expression unreadable, though there was a faint softness in her eyes that Emma couldn't ignore.
"Like…" Emma hesitated, her words catching in her throat. "Never mind."
Regina tilted her head, her dark eyes searching Emma's face. "You're overthinking again," she said softly, her voice almost teasing, though there was a warmth beneath it. "Relax. Just follow me."
Emma swallowed hard, nodding as she tried to focus on the steps instead of the way Regina's hand felt against her waist. She could feel the heat of Regina's palm through the fabric of her shirt, and it was both comforting and entirely overwhelming.
The dance continued, their movements growing more seamless with each turn. But the tension only grew, threading through the space between them like an unspoken question neither of them was ready to ask.
"You're surprisingly graceful," Regina said after a moment, her voice breaking the silence.
"Surprisingly?" Emma shot her a mock glare, grateful for the distraction.
Regina's lips twitched in amusement. "I suppose I should have more faith in your abilities. You've proven me wrong before."
Emma smiled, though her chest tightened at the way Regina was looking at her—like she wasn't just talking about the dance. She tried to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks, but it was impossible when Regina's gaze felt so intent, so piercing.
"Regina…" Emma started, unsure of what she wanted to say.
Regina's grip on her waist shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against Emma's side. "Yes?"
The question hung in the air, and Emma suddenly felt like the ground beneath her had disappeared. She wasn't sure what was happening, but it felt like a line was being crossed, one they could never uncross.
The music slowed, the final notes of the song fading into the silence of the room. Regina didn't let go, and neither did Emma. They stood there, still locked in the dance, their bodies close enough that Emma could feel the warmth radiating from Regina's skin.
"You're staring again," Regina murmured, her voice soft but filled with something Emma couldn't quite place.
Emma blinked, realizing too late that she had been. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Don't apologize," Regina interrupted, her tone gentle. She stepped closer, her grip on Emma's waist tightening just enough to keep her in place. "Not for that."
Emma's breath hitched, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Regina could hear it. "What are we doing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Regina didn't answer right away. Instead, she reached up with her free hand, brushing a stray strand of hair away from Emma's face. The touch was featherlight, but it sent a shiver down Emma's spine.
"Dancing," Regina said finally, though there was a tremor in her voice now, a vulnerability Emma had never heard before.
"Regina…" Emma's voice broke, her hands trembling as she clung to Regina's. She felt like she was standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying, and yet she couldn't bring herself to step back.
"You're not thinking about the wedding," Regina said quietly, her eyes locked on Emma's. It wasn't a question.
Emma opened her mouth to argue, to say something—anything—but no words came out. She couldn't lie, not when Regina was looking at her like that.
"I didn't think so," Regina said, her lips curving into a sad smile. "You forget how terrible you are at hiding your emotions."
Emma huffed out a shaky laugh, though it was tinged with something like panic. "Guess you know me too well, huh?"
Regina's smile faded, replaced by an intensity that made Emma's knees weak. "Yes," she said simply, her voice low and steady. "I do."
They stood there, frozen in the moment, the fire crackling softly in the background. Emma could feel her resolve slipping, crumbling under the weight of the tension between them. She didn't know who moved first—maybe it was her, maybe it was Regina—but suddenly their faces were inches apart, their breaths mingling.
"Emma…" Regina's voice was barely a whisper now, her hand brushing against Emma's cheek.
Emma closed her eyes, her heart pounding as she leaned in, the space between them disappearing. The kiss, when it came, was soft at first—tentative, hesitant, as if they were both afraid to break the moment. But then it deepened, passion and longing spilling out in a way neither of them could control.
Time seemed to stop as they clung to each other, the world outside the parlor forgotten. The kiss was everything—gentle and desperate, filled with years of unspoken emotions finally given a voice.
The fire crackled softly, the flames casting flickering shadows across the walls, but Emma barely noticed. All she could focus on was Regina—her lips, her eyes, her hand still gently brushing Emma's cheek. The silence between them was deafening, broken only by the sound of their breaths mingling in the small space left between them.
Emma should have pulled away. She knew it. She should have stepped back, made some awkward joke, and walked out of the room. But she didn't.
Regina's thumb traced along Emma's cheekbone, her touch so soft it sent a shiver down Emma's spine. "Emma…" Regina whispered, her voice trembling with something Emma couldn't quite name.
Emma swallowed hard, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out every rational thought. "Regina, I—"
Before she could finish, before the words could tumble out and ruin whatever this was, she leaned in. The second kiss, sudden and desperate, their lips meeting in a collision of heat and emotion. Emma's hands flew to Regina's waist, gripping her like she was afraid she might disappear.
This kiss was different from the first—there was no hesitation, no restraint. It was fierce, raw, and filled with every unspoken word they'd never had the courage to say. Regina responded immediately, her arms winding around Emma's neck, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
For a moment, nothing else existed—no wedding, no expectations, no consequences. Just them.
But then reality crept back in, cold and unforgiving. Emma broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, stepping back as if the distance might help her breathe again. "I—I can't," she stammered, her voice trembling.
Regina's lips parted, her breathing uneven as she stared at Emma with wide, vulnerable eyes. "Emma…"
Emma shook her head, her hands trembling as she raked them through her hair. "This isn't supposed to happen," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm getting married, Regina. I'm supposed to be with him."
Regina flinched, the words landing like a blow. But she didn't step back. Instead, she straightened, her shoulders squaring as she took a slow, deliberate step forward. "Then why are you here, Emma?"
"I don't know," Emma admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I'm doing. I just—I couldn't stay away."
Regina's gaze softened, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against Emma's once more. "You couldn't stay away because this—us—means something. You know it does."
Emma's chest ached at the truth in Regina's words, but she couldn't bring herself to agree. She wanted to, God, she wanted to, but the weight of her responsibilities—of the life she'd built with Hook—pressed down on her like a leaden weight.
"I can't just throw everything away," Emma said, her voice cracking. "People are counting on me. He's counting on me."
Regina's expression shifted, her vulnerability replaced by a fierce determination. "And what about you, Emma? What do you want?"
Emma's breath hitched, the question hitting her like a physical blow. "I don't know," she said again, the words feeling hollow even as she spoke them.
Regina shook her head, a faint, sad smile tugging at her lips. "Yes, you do. You've always known. You're just too scared to admit it."
"I'm not scared," Emma said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Regina stepped closer, her hand reaching up to cup Emma's cheek again. Her touch was steady, grounding, and Emma found herself leaning into it despite the storm raging inside her.
"You don't have to be afraid," Regina said softly, her voice a whisper that wrapped around Emma like a balm. "Not with me."
Emma's resolve crumbled. Before she could think better of it, she surged forward, capturing Regina's lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more deliberate, but no less passionate. It was filled with everything Emma had been holding back, everything she was too afraid to say aloud.
Regina responded instantly, her hands tangling in Emma's hair as she kissed her back with equal fervor. For a moment, Emma allowed herself to get lost in it again—the taste of Regina's lips, the warmth of her body pressed against hers.
But reality was cruel, and it didn't let her stay in that moment for long. She broke the kiss again, her chest heaving as she took a stumbling step back.
"I can't," Emma said, tears welling in her eyes. "I can't do this, Regina."
Regina's expression faltered, her composure slipping as the vulnerability returned. "Why not?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Because it's easier to settle for something safe? Because you're afraid to want more?"
"That's not fair," Emma snapped, though the words felt hollow even as she said them.
"Isn't it?" Regina shot back, her voice rising. "You think I don't know what this is? You think I don't know what you're feeling? I see it, Emma. Every time you look at me, I see it."
Emma shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't know what I'm feeling, okay? I don't know how to handle this. But I can't just… walk away from everything."
Regina's gaze softened, her anger fading as she stepped closer once more. "I'm not asking you to walk away, Emma. I'm asking you to choose. Choose me. Not because it's easy, but because it's what you want."
Emma's throat tightened, her vision blurring with tears. She wanted to say something, to give Regina the answer she deserved, but she couldn't.
"I—" Emma started, but her voice broke.
Regina nodded, her jaw tightening as she stepped back, giving Emma the space she so clearly needed. "I won't beg," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "But I won't let you pretend this doesn't matter, either."
Emma didn't respond. She couldn't. Instead, she turned and fled, the sound of her boots echoing through the silent mansion.
Regina watched her go, the tears she'd been holding back finally spilling over as the door closed behind Emma.
The wind howled outside the mansion as Emma leaned against the closed door of the parlor, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Her head swam, her heart a tangle of emotions she couldn't untangle no matter how hard she tried. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to calm down, but the memory of Regina's kiss—of both kisses—refused to fade.
Regina's words echoed in her mind like a relentless drumbeat: Choose me.
Emma pressed her palms against her eyes, her heart aching as guilt and longing battled for control. She felt pulled in two directions, torn between the life she'd built with Hook and the life Regina had promised with that single, desperate plea.
She didn't know how long she stood there, trembling and lost, but the sound of footsteps approaching snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned, half expecting to see Regina standing there, her expression guarded but her eyes full of hope.
But the hallway was empty.
Emma let out a shaky breath, her hands falling to her sides. She couldn't stay here. Not like this. She needed air, space to think. Without another glance back, she pushed off the door and hurried down the corridor, out of the mansion and into the night.
The docks were quiet, the waves lapping gently against the pier as Emma sat on a crate, staring out at the dark water. Her hands were shoved deep into her jacket pockets, the chill of the night doing little to calm the storm inside her.
She'd thought coming here would help, that the familiar sights and sounds of the harbor would ground her. But the sea breeze only carried more questions, more doubt.
The sound of boots on the wooden planks made her tense, and she turned her head to see Killian—Hook—approaching, his dark coat billowing slightly in the wind. His expression softened when he saw her, his usual swagger tempered by concern.
"There you are, love," he said, stopping a few feet away. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
Emma forced a smile, but it felt hollow even to her. "Sorry. I just… needed some air."
Hook studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing. "You've been distant lately," he said, his tone careful, as if he were afraid of pushing too hard. "Is everything all right?"
Emma opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She wanted to tell him the truth, to lay it all out and let him decide what to do with it. But the weight of it all felt too heavy, too messy to put into words.
"I'm fine," she said instead, the lie leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
Hook's gaze lingered on her, doubt flickering in his eyes, but he nodded. "If you say so."
He reached for her hand, his touch warm and steady, but Emma flinched, pulling away before she could stop herself.
Hook's hand fell to his side, and his expression shifted, hurt flashing across his face before he masked it with a forced smile. "It's the wedding, isn't it? You're nervous."
Emma nodded quickly, latching onto the excuse like a lifeline. "Yeah. It's just… a lot."
Hook stepped closer, his voice softening. "You don't have to go through this alone, Emma. Whatever's weighing on you, I'm here. Always."
Emma's chest tightened, guilt twisting like a knife in her gut. He meant it—she could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. And yet, it wasn't enough to quiet the voice in her head, the one that whispered Regina's name over and over like a prayer.
"I know," Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I need some time to figure things out. Can you give me that?"
Hook hesitated, his jaw clenching slightly, but he nodded. "Of course," he said, though his voice was strained. "Take all the time you need."
Emma offered him a small, grateful smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you."
As he turned and walked away, Emma felt the ache in her chest deepen. She hated hurting him, hated the way his shoulders slumped as he disappeared into the night. But she couldn't ignore the truth any longer.
She didn't belong here, not with him.
The mansion was dark when Emma returned, the only light coming from the faint glow of the fire in the parlor. She hesitated in the doorway, her heart pounding as she saw Regina sitting by the hearth, a glass of wine in her hand.
Regina didn't look up, her gaze fixed on the flames. "Back so soon?" she said, her voice cool but not unkind.
Emma stepped inside, her boots scuffing softly against the floor. "I couldn't stay away."
Regina's lips twitched, a faint, humorless smile crossing her face. "That seems to be a pattern with you."
Emma took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she stepped closer. "You were right," she said, her voice breaking.
Regina finally looked up, her eyes guarded but shining with a faint glimmer of hope. "About what?"
"About everything," Emma admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "About me, about him, about… us."
Regina set her glass down, standing slowly. "What are you saying, Emma?"
Emma swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she met Regina's gaze. "I'm saying that I choose you," she said, her voice trembling. "Not because it's easy, or because it makes sense, but because it's what I want."
Regina's breath hitched, her eyes wide as she stared at Emma. "Do you mean that?"
Emma nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stepped closer. "I've been running from this for so long, and I'm tired of running. I don't want to live a life that's safe or expected. I want you."
The words hung in the air, heavy and raw, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then Regina closed the distance between them, her hands cupping Emma's face as she kissed her deeply, passionately, pouring every ounce of emotion into the kiss.
Emma melted into it, her arms wrapping around Regina as the world faded away. This was where she belonged—here, in Regina's arms, in this moment that felt more real than anything she'd ever known.
When they finally broke apart, Regina rested her forehead against Emma's, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that," she whispered.
Emma smiled through her tears, her heart full for the first time in what felt like forever. "I think I do," she said softly.
And for the first time, she felt free.