Author's Note: There's a short mention of Regina's marriage and its connotations in this chapter. Everything is left implied, but I'm noting it just in case it could be triggering for someone.
Emma slowly blinks her eyes open, her vision adjusting to the soft light filtering through the room. The white walls, rich curtains, and familiar scent of lavender confirm she's back in her room at the castle. She takes a cautious inventory of her body, wincing slightly at the soreness in her muscles, but otherwise, she feels intact and, most importantly, alive.
She lifts herself onto her elbows, her movements careful and deliberate, but stops cold as her eyes land on the figure at the foot of her bed. Regina. The other woman is slumped over in a position that can be called anything but comfortable. The lower half of her body remains perched precariously in a chair, her legs tucked awkwardly beneath her, while her upper body sprawls onto the bed, her head resting on crossed arms as if she had fallen asleep mid-watch.
Emma's heart tightens. Regina looks utterly exhausted, her face unguarded in sleep, strands of dark hair falling messily over her face. And yet, even like this, there's an undeniable grace to her, a beauty Emma can't help but admire.
Her memory a bit fuzzy, Emma tries to piece together the events that led to her near demise. It all comes in flashes - Regina's taunting, Rumpelstiltskin's sadistic grin, Regina being slammed against the floor, and her own reaction. She pauses at that memory, her chest tightening. The rage she'd felt when she saw the imp throwing Regina around like a rag doll had been all-consuming. It wasn't just anger. It was something primal, raw, and terrifying. She didn't just want to hurt him, she wanted to kill him.
The thought of her own reaction scares her. That fury, that recklessness, had blinded her to the bigger picture. She can see it now, how her outburst had given Rumpelstiltskin an opening, how it had nearly cost them everything. If it hadn't been for Regina, for her finding her power in the nick of time…
But then another memory surfaces, and Emma cringes. Did I really… Embarrassment washes over her as she recalls her words to Regina after the battle, her voice barely a whisper as she clung to life. It was sappy, so much so that, if she hadn't been on death's doorstep, she's certain Regina would have laughed in her face for being so presumptuous.
Still, as her eyes drift back to the woman sleeping at the foot of her bed, Emma hesitates. Maybe … maybe it wasn't presumptuous after all. There has to be some meaning in the way their magic surged to life for each other, their power tied so deeply to the other's survival.
Before she can chase that thought any further, she notices movement. Brown eyes blink open, unfocused for a moment, before widening in realization. Regina jerks upright with a start, nearly toppling out of her awkward position.
"Emma! You're awake." Regina's voice is unsteady, and she takes a visible moment to compose herself before continuing, her eyes scanning Emma's face with a mix of relief and concern. "How are you feeling?"
The worried expression pulls at something deep inside Emma, filling her with an unexpected warmth. She offers a small, reassuring smile. "I'm surprisingly okay. You did a good job patching me up."
Regina's eyes narrow slightly, her gaze sharp as if trying to discern any hint of a lie. Emma can almost see the wheels turning in her head, the self-recrimination bubbling beneath the surface, and she's about to say something more when, to her absolute shock, Regina's composure shatters. A sob escapes her lips, and then another, until she's trembling with the force of her tears.
"Regina—" Emma doesn't hesitate. Ignoring the soreness in her body, she pushes the covers aside and gets out of bed, wrapping her arms around the other woman. Regina stiffens at first, but Emma tightens her hold, pulling her close. "It's okay," she murmurs, her voice soft, soothing. "I'm fine. I promise."
Regina's face presses against Emma's shoulder, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Her whole body shakes, the weight of everything they've endured spilling out in a torrent of emotion. Emma strokes her hair gently, threading her fingers through the dark locks. "You saved me," she says quietly.
Regina pulls away just enough to look into Emma's face, her eyes brimming with a potent mix of relief and lingering fear. "You don't understand, Emma," she says, her voice trembling. "You've been asleep for two days. I was terrified. I thought I was too late - that you'd lost too much blood, that no matter what I did…" Her voice cracks, and another sob escapes her lips before she can finish. Emma doesn't hesitate. She pulls Regina back into her arms, holding her tightly as if to anchor her.
Two days. She doesn't feel like she was out for that long, but she doesn't need to imagine how torturous those two days must have been for Regina. The thought of her sitting by Emma's side, waiting and hoping, makes her chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with her injuries.
Regina's breathing starts to even out after a few moments, and she slowly pulls herself free, her movements deliberate and careful, as though she's afraid she might unravel again. Her face is flushed with embarrassment, her eyes darting away. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to—"
"Don't," Emma interrupts gently. "Don't apologize." She doesn't know how to make Regina feel less exposed, but she tries anyway. "Regina, it's okay."
But she can see how much Regina is struggling, so Emma shifts the conversation, offering her an out.
"Rumpelstiltskin?" she asks, voice soft.
"Dead." Regina doesn't hesitate. "And his dagger is destroyed."
Emma blinks. "Wait— What? How is that even possible?"
Regina pauses, her gaze dropping like she's replaying a moment she'd rather forget. "When he stabbed you ... when I thought you were dying," she swallows, her voice hitching, "something woke up inside me. I think you know what I mean. You've been through it, twice now."
Emma nods slowly. "Yeah. I know. But getting my magic wasn't enough to finish him."
"I didn't just have mine," Regina says, her voice steadier now, but charged with something deeper. "It's hard to explain, but when my magic came back, it wasn't alone. It felt like the magic of this world reached for me. And I let it in. I understood it. Suddenly, I knew how to bend it, how to be with it."
She takes a breath, grounding herself. "I went from nothing to wielding the combined magic of two worlds. Separate, neither was strong enough to kill him or destroy the dagger. But together?" Her eyes lift to Emma's. "Together, they broke every rule. He never stood a chance."
She shrugs then, as if it's no big deal. Like she didn't just rewrite everything Emma thought she understood about magic just to save her.
Emma can only stare, stunned.
It takes her a moment to process before she finally speaks, still trying to catch up. "And the Queen and the Princess?"
Regina hesitates for a moment before the corners of her mouth lift into a small, tentative smile. "They're both fully recovered," she says, her voice steadier now. "I was able to heal them both. I even had the antidote ready, but … I didn't need it in the end."
Emma blinks at her, a flicker of amazement in her expression, still struggling to comprehend Regina's newfound power. "You healed both of them without the antidote?"
Regina nods, her smile growing a little more confident. "In fact, the wedding is today. They wanted to postpone it, but I convinced them there was no need. We've disrupted their lives enough as it is."
Emma lets out a small laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Of course you did," she says, her admiration evident.
Regina doesn't respond, but her expression softens, the tension in her shoulders easing.
"What about getting home?" Emma asks after a beat.
Regina's eyes brighten. "We're fine. With my magic and the beans, we can leave whenever we want. But I think we should stay until after the wedding. I don't want to vanish on them or take up part of their wedding day for a farewell, which you know they'll insist on."
"Of course," Emma agrees with a nod. "That makes sense."
With that, silence stretches between them, heavy and tense with all the things they haven't said. Emma knows it's only a matter of time. Too much has happened, and they can't just pretend it hasn't. She takes a breath, forcing herself to be brave, and asks, voice trembling, "Are we going to talk about it?"
The silence that once again follows is deafening. Emma's heart plummets, panic creeping in as she begins to second-guess herself. Maybe she miscalculated. Maybe Regina doesn't want to talk about it. Maybe she can't. She opens her mouth to backtrack, to apologize for even bringing it up, when Regina's voice cuts through her spiraling thoughts.
"Yes," she says softly, her tone almost as uncertain as Emma's. "We should."
Silence returns once again. Emma swallows hard, trying to summon the courage to speak, but the words lodge in her throat, refusing to cooperate.
It's not that she doesn't want to say anything - she wants to say everything. But where does she even start? How do you open a conversation about something that feels like it's been building forever? Blurting out I'm madly in love with you, and I think I have been on some level for years seems like a one-way ticket to disaster. And yet, isn't that what this is about? Isn't that the truth they've been dancing around since they got here?
Looking at Regina, Emma notices the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers twist together in her lap, restless and uncertain. Her heart aches at the sight. Regina isn't the type to fidget, it's so unlike her. If Emma has walls, Regina has fortresses, and seeing her like this, so exposed, makes Emma's chest tighten. She opens her mouth, ready to say something, anything, to break the silence. But Regina speaks first, her voice low and husky.
"I'd lie if I said I expected this." Regina's words come slowly, deliberately, as if she's choosing each one with care. "I didn't seek it out. But the fact is, Emma, this isn't something that just happened. It didn't come out of nowhere." She pauses, her voice softening as she looks down at her hands. "I lied before."
Emma blinks, caught off guard. "Lied?" she echoes, her mind scrambling to keep up, searching for the moment Regina might mean.
Regina's lips twitch, almost a smile, but not quite. "When you asked me if I ever thought about us - about the two of us together." Emma's breath catches, her eyes widening in shock.
"Well," Regina continues, "it wasn't a lie exactly. I just didn't realize then how wrong I was." She hesitates for a beat, as if gathering her courage, then reaches out and takes Emma's hand, cradling it between her own. Her touch is light but steady, grounding them both.
"I had a lot of time to think while you were unconscious," Regina says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Too much time, really. I kept replaying everything in my head. The day we met. Every argument, every alliance. All those moments before the curse broke. And the ones that came after."
She draws in a shaky breath, her eyes lifting to meet Emma's. "Even back then ... you made me feel things I hadn't felt in so long. Things I didn't know how to handle. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. But because I didn't know what they meant, I did what I always do. I turned it into anger. Into hate."
Emma shakes her head, her lips parting to protest, but Regina cuts her off gently. "No, it's true. The day you attacked my apple tree? I hated you so much in that moment." Her lips curve into a wry smile, her voice softening further. "But it wasn't just hate. There was something else, something I didn't want to admit to myself. You made me feel alive, Emma. I craved that feeling, even if I didn't understand it."
Emma knows exactly what she's talking about. When she thinks back, she knows it was no accident they kept running into each other. They were both seeking out the other.
Regina continues, her voice laced with wonder. "After you broke the curse … things became even more complicated. But that pull I felt, it never went away. It just became stronger. But I always found ways to explain it away."
Emma nods, her throat tightening as Regina speaks. Every word feels like a mirror to her own heart, reflecting emotions she's carried for so long but never fully acknowledged.
Regina smiles wryly before continuing, her voice tinged with a mix of regret and wonder. "Now that I look back at it, it seems so obvious that I don't understand how I didn't see it before, you know?"
Emma returns her smile, though it's fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. "I know. I know exactly what you mean." She takes a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to lay her own heart bare. "You always seemed to be the one person who truly saw me. Everybody else looked at me and saw the Savior. Even my own parents. Even Henry. But you … you saw me. You saw me for everything I am - the strengths, the flaws, all of it."
Emma's voice trembles as she speaks, her eyes searching Regina's for understanding. "After the curse, everybody acted like we were this big, happy family. And don't get me wrong, we were! But for me, there was always something missing. Even when I was surrounded by family, I often felt so … lonely. But then I'd see you, and we'd talk, and it just felt … right. I didn't feel alone. I never felt alone around you. I think you're the only person I know who has ever truly understood me."
Regina's eyes glisten with unshed tears, and for a moment, Emma allows herself to hope. But then she sees the sadness return to Regina's gaze, and her heart sinks.
"You know this can't happen, right?" Regina says softly, her voice breaking as she squeezes Emma's hand, as if drawing strength from her touch.
Emma shakes her head. "I don't accept that," she says, firmer than she intended. "I know we've been through hell, but after everything, we deserve this."
"There is so much baggage between us, Emma." Regina looks down, her fingers tightening around Emma's. "So much history, and very little of it good," she continues, her voice heavy with regret. She looks away, as if she can't bear to see the pain in Emma's eyes.
Emma shakes her head. "Regina, look at the Princess and the Queen. They have a complicated past, too, but they found a way forward. We can do the same."
Regina flinches, and when she meets Emma's gaze again, her expression is filled with heartbreak. "Their past isn't our past. One of them didn't ruin the other's childhood and tear her away from her entire family."
"Regina–" Emma starts, but Regina cuts her off, her voice firm despite the tears streaming down her face.
"Emma, please, listen to me. I love you. I have loved you for a long time. But I also hurt you, in a way I will never be able to fix." She pauses, her breath hitching as she struggles to continue. "And your family … I hurt your family, but your family hurt me as well, and not just your mother."
Emma inhales sharply, her eyes widening as the weight of Regina's words settles over her. She knows what Regina's talking about. Everyone speaks of Snow's father as if he were a saint, but Emma has never been able to feel the same warmth toward him. Her grandfather was three times Regina's age when they married, and Emma now knows the whole story. She knows Regina wanted anything but to be married to him. But between her power-hungry mother, Snow, and the King, there was no way out for her. And the implications of what happened after make Emma's stomach churn.
"None of it is your fault," Regina is quick to add, her voice soft but firm. "But I blamed you for it, and I hurt you over it. There's just so much hurt…"
Emma wants to apologize, even though none of it was her doing. She wants to hold Regina and promise her she will spend her life loving her, cherishing her, and making her forget the past. But before she can speak, Regina continues, her voice breaking.
"There's also Henry to think about," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your parents. And Robin … he might be gone but I'm still tethered to him by magic, even if my heart's moved on."
Emma flinches at the mention of his name. She never liked the guy, even though she didn't have a good reason for it. Now she finally realizes why. Also, screw pixie dust. Why should they give a damn about what it says?
Regina's voice pulls her from her thoughts. "And don't forget, you're with Hook."
"I don't love Hook," Emma whispers, raw honesty bleeding into her voice. "I never did."
Regina closes her eyes for a moment, as if willing herself to stay strong. "That doesn't change anything."
Emma wants to say something, anything, but there are no words. She knows she lost the battle she didn't even know they were fighting. Nothing she says will be able to erase the weight of their past, and Regina, well, she will never allow herself something she doesn't believe she deserves. She has made up her mind, and Emma can't fault her for it. She understands. After a moment of silence, she looks at the woman she loves, her heart breaking with every word. "Okay. So what do we do?"
Regina takes a step closer, her hands trembling as she cups Emma's face. Her touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if she's memorizing the feel of Emma's skin beneath her fingertips. "We attend the wedding. We wish the Princess and the Queen a happy life, and then we go home. And we go back to where we were before we left. As friends."
Emma's heart shatters. That's the last thing she wants. But she can see how hard this already is for Regina. She can make this more difficult, or she can accept it now, before it hurts even more.
"Okay," Emma whispers, her voice breaking. It's the only thing she can say.
Regina exhales, relief and sorrow mingling in her expression. "Thank you."
She steps back, regaining her composure, and starts to turn toward the door. "I'll let you get ready. I'll meet you in front in about an hour?"
Emma nods, unable to trust her voice. Regina takes two more steps before stopping. She turns back, hesitation flickering across her face, and then - before she can change her mind - she rushes toward Emma, framing her face with both hands and pressing their lips together.
The kiss is nothing like the one they shared the night of the banquet. It's slow and deep, filled with so much emotion that it both heals and breaks Emma's heart at the same time. Regina's fingers tremble against her skin, her breath uneven as she pours everything into this one moment - her love, her regret, and her goodbye.
And just as quickly as it happens, it ends. Regina pulls away, her right hand clutching at her chest as if she's physically keeping herself from reaching for Emma again. Her eyes are wide with shock and longing. "I'm sorry. I just wanted … I just needed…"
Emma swallows hard, her voice barely a whisper. "I know. I understand."
Regina's eyes are filled with gratitude for Emma's easy acceptance. As she turns around once more and leaves the room, Emma sinks back onto the bed, tears streaming down her face. She touches her lips, the sensation of Regina's kiss still lingering, and realizes she doesn't know if she can do what Regina asked her. She doesn't know if she can go back to just being friends - not when she's feeling things she's never experienced before. But she'll try. She owes that much to her.
Once Emma is ready and makes her way to the hallway, Regina is already waiting for her. She stands with her back to the wall, her posture poised but her hands clasped tightly in front of her, betraying her nerves. When she sees Emma, she offers a hesitant smile, one that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Emma steps forward without hesitation, taking Regina's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Hey," Emma says softly, her voice warm despite the ache in her chest. "We're okay, Regina. I promise."
Regina's smile softens, and she nods, though her eyes still hold a flicker of uncertainty. Emma knows things haven't turned out the way she wanted them to, and whether she'll be able to fully accept their new reality remains to be seen. But for now, she just wants to be close to Regina. She wants them to enjoy the Queen's and the Princess' big day, to celebrate love in all its forms, even if their own remains unspoken. Everything else can wait until they get home.
"Shall we?" Emma asks, holding out her arm for Regina.
Regina hesitates, her gaze flickering to Emma's outstretched arm before finally slipping hers through. Her touch is light, almost tentative, as if she's afraid to let herself lean into the connection too much. But when Emma gives her arm a gentle squeeze, Regina's posture relaxes slightly, and she offers a grateful smile.
"The Queen and the Princess want to see us before the ceremony," Regina says, her voice steady but quiet. "I suppose we need to know who they've told everybody we are. Wouldn't want to cause any confusion."
Emma nods, and they begin walking toward their hosts' chambers. As they move through the grand hallways of the castle, Emma can't help but admire how striking they look together. She's wearing a dark green dress suit that fits her perfectly, the tailored lines accentuating her strong frame. She's surprised the Princess - it has to be hers, to fit so well - even owns something like this, given her preference for frilly dresses. The suit feels like a reflection of Emma herself: practical, understated, but with a quiet elegance.
Regina, on the other hand, has chosen an understated yet breathtaking dark blue gown. The fabric drapes over her curves like it was made for her, the deep color complementing her dark hair and warm complexion. The dress is modest, with a high neckline and long sleeves, but the slit along one leg offers a tantalizing glimpse of skin with every step she takes. Emma's breath catches as she catches sight of it, a surge of desire rushing through her so intensely that she stumbles for a moment.
Regina tightens her hold on Emma's arm, steadying her, and gives her a questioning look. "Are you all right?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.
Emma shakes her head, her cheeks flushing as she tries to regain her composure. "Yeah, I'm fine," she says quickly, though her thoughts are a jumbled mess. It's not like she hasn't seen Regina's legs before. Hell, she's seen plenty more - including copious amounts of cleavage. So why can I now barely look at her without my body acting like I'm a teenager? It hits her that admitting their feelings seems to have shattered whatever mental brakes she'd unconsciously put in place before. She groans internally. This will NOT be fun.
She glances at Regina out of the corner of her eye, taking in the way the light catches the subtle shimmer of her gown, the way her hair falls in soft waves around her face. Emma's heart aches with the weight of everything she can't say, everything she can't have.
As they approach the Queen's chambers, Regina slows her steps, her grip on Emma's arm tightening slightly. "Emma," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you. For … for understanding. For not making this harder than it already is."
Emma turns to look at her, her chest tightening at the vulnerability in Regina's eyes. "Always," she says simply, because it's the truth. No matter what happens, no matter how much it hurts, she'll always be there for Regina. Even if it means burying her own heartache for the sake of their friendship.
As soon as they enter the room, the Princess jumps up from her seat and rushes toward them, her face alight with relief and joy. "Emma!" she exclaims, slamming into her with the force of her hug. Emma stumbles slightly, caught off guard by her counterpart's enthusiasm, but she quickly regains her balance and wraps her arms around her, returning the embrace.
"I was so worried about you!" the Princess says, her voice trembling with emotion. She pulls back slightly, hands gripping Emma's shoulders as she looks her over, as if needing proof that the other woman is truly okay.
The Queen approaches with a more reserved but equally warm demeanor, placing a gentle hand on Emma's arm. "We both were," she says softly, her smile radiant with relief. "We're so glad you're alright."
Emma smiles back, her chest tightening at their obvious affection. It's hard to believe how close they've grown in just a week - has it really only been a week? - since they were thrust into this world. The bond they've formed feels much deeper than the time they've spent together.
"I'm fine," Emma reassures them, her voice warm but slightly sheepish. "Regina did a great job saving my life."
The Queen turns to Regina, gratitude and something almost like awe in her gaze. "She did," she agrees. "But it wasn't just you. She saved both my beloved and me. And she rid our world of the Dark One." She pauses, studying Regina with quiet reverence. "I have never known power strong enough to do what you did. You will have our gratitude for as long as we live."
Regina, usually so composed and unshakable, casts her eyes downward at the praise, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. It's an uncharacteristically vulnerable gesture - she is certainly not the one to shy away from compliments, quite the opposite - and the sight sends a wave of warmth through Emma's chest.
The Princess, still holding onto Emma's arm, beams at Regina. "You're amazing," she says, her voice brimming with admiration. "I don't think we'll ever be able to thank you enough."
Regina clears her throat, her composure slowly returning, though her voice is softer than usual when she speaks. "You don't need to thank me," she says, her tone gentle but firm. "I did what needed to be done. That's all."
The Queen shakes her head, her smile unwavering. "Modesty doesn't suit either of us, dear. It was never our strong suit. What you did was extraordinary, and we won't soon forget it." She steps forward, placing a hand on Regina's shoulder in a gesture of solidarity and respect. "You've given us a future we thought we might never have. A future where we don't have to look over our shoulder all the time. A future where the woman I love is reconciled with her family. A future where we can be together without having to sacrifice anything. For that, we will always be in your debt."
The exchange fills Emma's heart with a sense of pride she can't quite put into words. Seeing Regina now - strong, selfless, and so deeply admired - it's a stark reminder of how far she's come. This is the woman who once ruled through fear, who carried the weight of her pain like a weapon, and now she stands here, a hero in every sense of the word.
Emma feels so fortunate to have witnessed it all, to have been there for every step of Regina's transformation. From the woman who once cursed an entire realm to the one who now saves worlds with a selflessness that takes Emma's breath away. It's a journey that fills her with pride, but also a quiet ache, knowing how much Regina has struggled to see herself as worthy of the love and admiration she so clearly deserves.
Noticing that Regina still looks a bit uncomfortable with all the attention, Emma decides to change the subject, her voice light and teasing. "So, what's our story today?" she asks, and the attention immediately shifts to her.
The Queen smiles, her expression warm and reassuring. "There is no story," she answers. "Everybody knows what happened. With the Dark One gone, there's no need for pretense anymore."
The Princess nods enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with pride. "The guests are all excited to meet the pair who took out Rumplestiltskin. If you were hoping to keep a low profile today, I'm sorry to say the chances of that are nonexistent."
Emma glances at Regina, worried that the attention might be too much for her, but to her relief, Regina seems to be handling it well.
The Princess claps her hands together, her excitement palpable. "Now that that's out of the way, we have a wedding to get to!" She turns to the Queen, her expression softening. "Love, can you please take Regina to the hall? I have a small thing to ask Emma."
The Queen nods, and the two of them make their way out of the room, leaving Emma alone with the Princess. Emma looks at her expectantly, but her cheerful expression is quickly replaced by a more somber one. The shift is so sudden that it catches Emma off guard. The Princess is quiet for a few moments, her gaze thoughtful, before she takes Emma's hand and begins to speak.
"I'm not going to ask what happened between you and Regina," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "It's none of my business."
Emma's eyes widen in surprise, and she starts to protest, "How do you know–" but the Princess interrupts her with a raised hand.
"Don't worry, you're not too obvious," she says with a small smile. "I just know the Queen so well, and they are so much alike. I notice things. And well, I know myself as well, so it's not hard to notice changes in you."
Emma wants to deny it, to brush off the Princess' words, but she knows there's not much point. The Princess' insight is too sharp, her tone too knowing. Besides, there's something comforting about being seen, about having someone understand without needing to explain.
The Princess squeezes Emma's hand, her expression earnest. "As I said, I'm not going to ask what happened, but I am going to ask you not to let her self-sabotage her happiness. She is so good at that. I'm guessing, with her history, even more than the Queen."
The Princess' voice softens, her grip on Emma's hand tightening slightly. "She deserves to be happy. And so do you. But you will need to be the one to convince her of that. Convince her that she is worthy of love. That you will not be better off without her." She pauses, her gaze steady. "I know it's not fair, but that's how they are. Just don't give up on her."
Emma swallows hard, her throat tightening with emotion as the Princess' words resonate deeply. She knows Regina's walls are high, her fears deeply rooted, but she also knows that Regina is worth fighting for. She takes a deep breath and looks at the Princess, nodding solemnly. "You don't have to worry about that."
The Princess smiles, her expression warm and encouraging. She gives Emma's hand one final squeeze before releasing it. "Now, let's get to that wedding. There's a celebration waiting for us."
The wedding is a gorgeous and festive affair, a celebration of love that stuns with its beauty. The grand hall is adorned with cascading flowers and luminous crystals, with dancing fireflies giving it an ethereal quality. The air is filled with the soft hum of joyful music and the exuberant chatter of guests. The Queen and the Princess stand at the center of it all, radiant in their twin dresses, one a deep, regal purple, the other a pristine white. They look like a perfect balance, two halves of a whole, as they pledge their love for each other in vows that are both tender and fierce.
When they kiss, the room seems to hold its breath. Then, a rainbow pulse cascades from their lips, rippling outward in waves of light and color. It washes over the guests, over the hall, over everything, like magic itself is admitting defeat and throwing its support behind the pair. The crowd erupts into applause, their cheers echoing through the room, but Emma can't help but feel a pang of longing as she watches the two women embrace. It's a love so pure, finally unburdened by the weight of history, and for a moment, Emma allows herself to imagine what that might feel like.
She glances at Regina, and their eyes meet. Emma can see the same longing reflected in Regina's gaze, a quiet ache that mirrors her own. It's there, just beneath the surface, raw and unspoken. At that moment, Emma makes a silent promise to herself, her heart swelling with determination. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll put that same happiness - the kind that lights up the Queen's face - on yours.
Once the ceremony is over and the celebration starts, Emma and Regina try to keep a low profile, but it's no use. Everywhere they go, people find them, their faces alight with admiration and curiosity. They're showered with questions and praise, their names spoken with a reverence that feels both satisfying and overwhelming.
They keep being offered drinks, and within a few hours, both are starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Through it all, Emma does her best to smile and nod, to play the part of the gracious hero, but at one point, it becomes too much for both of them.
They exchange a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. Without a word, they begin to weave their way through the crowd, slipping past groups of guests and ducking behind pillars until they finally reach the edge of the hall. The cool night air hits them as they step into the courtyard, a welcome relief from the stifling warmth of the celebration.
Just as they think they've managed to slip away, a voice stops them in their tracks. A voice that's equal parts excitement and drowsiness, as if the speaker is struggling to stay awake long enough to deliver his message. "There you are!"
Emma turners around and sees a familiar face. "Hey, Sleepy."
His face breaks out in a smile. "I just need a few things from you!" he says expectantly.
Emma and Regina exchange a confused look, unsure what could be so important that he's tracking them down in the middle of the celebration. "Yes?" they respond in unison.
"I need to know which one of you is the birth mother?"
Both women now look even more confused, and Emma feels a flicker of exasperation. She's tired, more than a little drunk, and not in the mood for intrusive questions. Her voice is sharper than usual as she responds. "Look, I know we're heroes here, and you want to know more about us, but these kinds of questions are going too far. Why in the world would it matter which one of us is the birth mother?"
Sleepy doesn't seem fazed by her tone, his drowsy demeanor shielding him from the shift in atmosphere. "Okay, I can understand that. A surprise it is, then." He pauses for a moment, as if trying to remember something else. "I guess it's done now." He takes both of their hands, holds them for a beat as he mutters a few words too soft to catch, then joins them. And just like that, he turns and strolls off without so much as a goodbye.
Emma and Regina exchange another exasperated and confused look before letting go of each other's hands.
"Well, that was bizarre," Emma says, brushing off some of the powder left on her hands from the interaction. "I wish he'd washed his hands before he decided to shake ours."
Regina nods in agreement, taking a few steps forward before stopping cold. It takes Emma a moment in her drunken haze to realize why Regina has frozen. They're standing at the exact spot where they shared their first kiss - and quite a bit more. Emma's face flushes crimson as she recalls the evening, the passion that had overtaken them, and the way her heart had raced afterward.
"This is impossible!" Regina exclaims, her voice sharp with frustration. She starts marching back toward the hall, her movements stiff and deliberate. "I'm going to bed. My head is pounding, and I don't think we owe anyone our company anymore tonight."
"Regina!" Emma calls after her, but it's too late. Regina is already disappearing into the crowd, her retreating figure a blur of blue fabric and dark hair. Emma sighs, her exasperation mingling with a deep sadness. She realizes just how hard it will be to navigate their future with these newfound - but certainly not new - feelings between them.
With a heavy heart, Emma decides to turn in as well. The celebration feels distant now, the music and laughter fading into the background as she makes her way to her room, her thoughts a tangled mess of longing and quiet ache.