Battle Towards Surrender: Part Four, Emma/Regina, NC17
Title: Battle Towards Surrender: Part Four
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Rating: NC17 this chapter
Pairing: Emma/Regina - Swan Queen! (although it takes a little while to get there)
Spoilers: post s1-finale fic. Everything is fair game.
Disclaimer: Not mine! These characters belong to ABC/Disney, Horowitz and Kitsis. I'm just playing and no profit is being made.
Word Count: ~4500 (this part)
Warnings: Minor character deaths.
Summary: This is a collision of various prompts collected at Tumblr over the past month. It begins with Henry wondering about how they should feel about Regina now the curse is broken. From there, a plan is hatched which requires Regina and Emma to pose as lovers in order to have Regina admitted to the rabble roused to fight Rumpelstiltskin for control of Storybrooke. That's the premise, you'll have to read to find out the rest.
Prologue (Henry) | Part One | Part Two | Part Three
Regina is a hesitant kisser, at first, and that surprises Emma when she considers the bossy confidence Regina approaches everything else with.
“C’mere,” Emma says, propping herself up on one elbow and then pulling Regina up to a sitting position with her. “This might make it a bit easier.”
“Since when are you interested in easier?” Regina teases, but this time she’s the one pressing her palm against the back of Emma’s neck, drawing her into a deeper kiss that leaves them both breathless.
[Part Four]
Emma is struggling to tamp down the arousal that’s coursing through her, her nipples already hard without a single touch and her head already swimming. She’s torn between the urge to throw Regina down and make her scream and this new, curious urge to take her time and explore every last inch. There’s the unspoken threat in the air that this is probably a one-time deal, and like someone finding an oasis in the desert, Emma isn’t sure she’ll be able to pace herself.
It seems Regina is fighting a similar battle, because her hands are already slipping beneath the washed-out cotton of Emma’s tank top, perfectly soft against Emma’s already overheated skin.
“Oh,” Regina says softly. She bites down on her lip as she watches her own hands travel up to cup Emma’s breasts beneath the cotton. “How did we get to this?”
“Who cares?” Emma replies, seizing the initiative and latching her mouth onto the hollow at the base of Regina’s throat. It provokes the happy hiss that Emma hoped for, and she draws out more reaction with a flash of teeth and the soothing pressure of her tongue. It only takes a few, fumbling seconds to get rid of Regina’s top, and when faced with more bare skin, Emma finds herself greedy and just a little frantic.
Regina’s touch is unrelenting, too. She flicks and then pulls on Emma’s nipples, making her cry out against Regina’s skin. That edge they both have, that familiarity with pain is creeping in, and Emma’s not surprised to feel herself getting even wetter at the thought. When her mouth reaches Regina’s nipple she’s careful to give as good as she gets, nipping with teeth and sucking hard enough to make Regina moan in that stuttering, sighing way that’s already driving Emma crazy.
The rest of their clothing is tugged off, limbs tangling as they press together, seeking out more kisses, hands stroking every newly exposed inch of skin.
“I want--” Regina says, over and over. Unable or unwilling to finish the thought, she’s the most gorgeous thing Emma has ever seen with her face flushed, eyes closed and head tilted back in invitation. “I want,” she repeats, and Emma kisses the end of the sentence against her lips.
It doesn’t take much to have Regina straddling Emma’s crossed legs so they’re facing each other, and Regina wraps her arms around Emma’s neck in agreement at the new position. Regina’s legs are spread, an invitation Emma can’t resist as she runs one testing finger between Regina’s thighs, groaning at the slickness she encounters.
“You do want this,” Emma murmurs, her mouth charting a course over Regina’s breasts again. “You want me,” she adds, and any other time it might sound mocking, even cruel. But they’re being quiet here, in their convent room (and wouldn’t the nuns Emma hated for three years in upstate New York get a kick out of that) and Emma doesn’t want to break anymore than has already been broken.
“Yes,” Regina whispers against Emma’s forehead, and that’s enough. Emma responds by sliding two fingers inside and Regina sounds like she might melt when she sighs in something like relief.
Using her thighs for leverage and her left hand to steady Regina, Emma starts working those fingers in and out in a steady rhythm, relishing every little moan and the way Regina rocks herself into every touch. They kiss, lazily, and Emma moves that steadying hand to pluck each of Regina’s nipples in turn, increasing the pitch of her excited sighs and the pace of her hips as she thrusts down on Emma’s fingers.
A third finger is a formality, and Regina’s practically sobbing by the time Emma starts circling her thumb against Regina’s clit. It would be hell on her wrist to keep this up too long, but Regina’s already starting to clench around Emma’s fingers and she can’t help wondering how long it’s been since Regina had some meaningful kind of release. Emma’s been taking care of basic needs in the shower every few days, but it strikes her that Regina doesn’t seem the type; then again, Regina didn’t seem the type to get fucked while straddling Emma’s lap in the dark, so maybe Emma doesn’t know the first thing about it. Maybe it’s safer that she doesn’t.
“Emma,” Regina almost chokes on the word, the last thing she says before coming around Emma’s hand, riding out every last second before slumping. With her head on Emma’s shoulder, Regina presses fluttering, distracted kisses against the column of Emma’s neck. “Mmm,” is her only comment, but Emma can feel the way that the tension has seeped out of Regina’s body, their warm, damp skin pressed against each other as Regina comes back to herself.
“You’re okay?” Emma asks, still a little terrified of all the damage they brought into the room. Regina kisses Emma soundly on the mouth in response, bolder with her tongue now as she explores and teases. Gradually, Regina wriggles her way out of Emma’s lap, moving around behind her and pulling Emma’s hair aside to lavish the attention of lips and tongue on the back of Emma’s neck and the lines of her shoulders.
Emma’s never mentioned that her back is especially sensitive, but Regina’s already tracing patterns with her fingertips that set Emma’s nerve endings crackling, and when she repeats the trick with her nails, Emma can’t help the gasp that escapes her. There’s some defiant streak left from months of warring with Regina, a part of Emma that wants to make Regina really fucking work for it, but Emma’s already as wet as a river between her legs, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be long before Regina discovers that for herself.
Regina’s scraping her nails over Emma’s ass now, and sure enough slides her fingers over Emma’s cunt just moments later.
“Well,” Regina says, and Emma can see the goddamned smirk without even looking around. “Seems I’m not the only one who wants something.” She strokes her fingers along Emma’s slit with a teasing pressure, and Emma tilts back into her touch without thinking twice about it.
“Don’t think you can make me beg,” Emma says, in a final attempt at defiance.
“Don’t give me ideas,” Regina warns, withdrawing her hand. But a moment later Emma hears a sucking sound and turns to see Regina licking the taste of Emma from her fingers, eyes closed in apparent enjoyment.
Oh, hell.
Emma is about to shove Regina down on the mattress and have her way with her all over again, but Regina reacts first. She presses herself against Emma’s back once more, wrapping an arm around Emma’s chest to hold her in place. Emma arches her neck, turning enough to kiss Regina who greets her with open-mouthed kisses that are just shallow enough to leave Emma closer to begging than she wants to be. Meanwhile, Regina’s other hand is stroking down over Emma’s belly, skimming the neat strip of curls until two fingertips are rubbing gently on Emma’s clit.
Regina relinquishes Emma’s mouth, but she’s sucking and biting on Emma’s shoulder as her fingers work. Regina’s other hand is tangled in Emma’s hair now, tipping her head back to get access to her neck, and Emma lets her own hands play with her nipples until she’s shuddering under the combined touches and coming with a cry that she doesn’t expect to be so loud.
She leans back against Regina, pleasantly surprised when Regina wraps both arms around her in something like a hug. It doesn’t last though, because the buzz starts to wear off and Emma starts to freak out quietly at the intimacy of it. This is not what she signed up for, this is not what they’re supposed to be.
With not very much elegance, Emma shuffles out of Regina’s embrace and collapses on the wrong side of the bed, mashing her face into Regina’s pillow.
“Tired,” she mumbles, hoping Regina can make out the word, but her sigh certainly suggests that she does.
They don’t say goodnight, but Regina takes her place on what used to be Emma’s side of the bed and pulls the sheets up over both of them.
***
Emma wakes at the first hint of sunrise through the improperly closed curtains. When she squints towards the window, she sees Regina sitting on the wide sill, arms wrapped around her knees.
Maybe the right thing to do is to say something, to ask if Regina’s alright. But Emma’s always been a reluctant hero, and right now she has no idea how to help.
She closes her eyes and tries not to call herself a coward.
***
Emma holds her breath and waits for awkward. She shouldn’t have rushed out of their room this morning, but Regina seemed intent on sleeping in and Emma’s stomach was already growling in protest. She can’t even convince herself of that, given how many meals she’s skipped in her life: willingly or not.
So she scoops more cereal into her mouth and waits for Regina to ignore her.
Instead, Regina takes the seat next to Emma and smiles broadly across the table at Henry. She seems relaxed, in a way Emma would never have expected.
“Pass the honey?” Regina asks, and Emma realizes that the jar is right by her wrist. She hands it over, not meeting Regina’s eye when she does.
“You know,” Regina leans in to whisper. “I never had you pegged for the shy type.”
“I’m not!” Emma says, just the hint of a pout creeping in. “I just wasn’t sure if we--”
“What is up with you two?” Henry pipes up. “You’re worse than Grace and Gretel, whispering all the time.”
“Eat your breakfast, kid,” Emma snaps, before softening it a little with a smile. “And not every conversation is for your ears, okay?”
“I think I liked it better when you two hated each other,” Henry grumbles.
Regina’s squeezes Emma’s thigh beneath the table at that, and she finds herself letting go of the restlessness that’s been plaguing her all morning. She doesn’t need to run, Emma tells herself. She hasn’t screwed it all up by sleeping with someone. Regina’s not freaking out or openly plotting Emma’s downfall, and in fact she seems almost... happy.
Despite the fact that in the past month Emma has had to deal with fairytales being real, discovering that she’s a secret princess and that one of her best friend’s turns into a wolf instead of just getting cramps every month, this might actually be the weirdest revelation of all.
She squeezes Regina’s hand where it’s resting on Emma’s thigh, and exhales.
***
Regina adapts--quickly--and she just expects Emma to come along for the ride. They don’t talk about what it means, or give a name to what’s happened between them, they just carry on in much the same way as they have since Regina got there, right down to the sniping and pointless arguments.
If Regina was reluctant to put her hands on Emma when it was all for show, that has evaporated in the face of what they’re now doing in bed every night. (And in the orchard, and in the showers, and hey, morning and afternoon are perfectly valid times too, it turns out). Emma’s just glad that Henry is mostly self-sufficient and that there’s a small army of people to look out for him when his mothers are otherwise engaged.
James looks away, embarrassed, every time Regina wraps an arm around Emma’s waist or takes her hand at dinner. Snow watches, her eyes dancing with curiosity, and Emma makes a point of never being cornered alone. Whatever is happening she doesn’t want to actually discuss it with anyone, least of all her best friend-turned-mom.
It’s supposed to be Emma and Regina’s turn to make dinner, but Regina gleefully enchants the knives and pots to cook for them, giving Emma the trippiest Beauty & the Beast flashback she’s ever experienced. That leaves an hour alone in an otherwise empty kitchen, and Emma does not have the restraint to stop herself reacting to Regina licking cream from her fingertip.
“This is probably in violation of some health codes,” Emma mutters as Regina lifts her onto the worktop, tugging Emma’s jeans down in the process. Any other sarcastic comments short-circuit at the feeling of Regina’s mouth against her, tongue swirling against wet flesh as Emma clutches at the edge of the counter and Regina’s hair in a desperate bid not to completely lose her mind.
Emma comes the first time from the sensation of what Regina’s doing to her, but she suspects the second is more about the way Regina moans against Emma’s cunt, giving away that she’s been fingering herself this whole time. They climax almost in tandem, then, and Emma thinks that maybe she’s going to pass out.
They’re kissing again, and Emma has Regina’s gray dress unzipped, when Snow White walks in on them. Emma blushes redder than the pasta sauce that’s cooking on the stove, and fumbles for some kind of apology. Her mother stares at Emma and Regina in open-mouthed shock, before turning and practically running back out of the kitchen.
***
“Do we need to talk?” Emma asks, when she next bumps into Snow. Emma says it while staring at the floor and wondering if it’s not too late to flee to Boston and beyond, but she makes the effort anyway.
“No,” Snow says quite firmly. “It’s your life, Emma.”
“Right,” Emma says, trying to sound for a second like she knows what the hell she’s doing. “Thanks.”
“Emma?” Snow calls out as they go their separate ways.
“Yeah?” Emma sighs, feeling like the reprimanded teenager again.
“Be careful,” Snow warns, echoing the words she said weeks ago. Emma doesn’t have the heart to tell her that--in every way that matters--it’s way too late for careful.
***
“You’re taking the wrong approach!” Regina snaps, slamming her fist on the table to make the point. Granny and Grumpy tense, ready to subdue Regina if she acts out, but Emma’s hand on her shoulder is enough to calm her. “Speak to your parents,” Regina hisses. “I am tired of wasting my breath.”
“Snow, James,” Emma begins. “What Regina is saying makes sense. Shouldn’t we focus on getting out of Storybrooke instead of picking a fight with the one guy we probably can’t take down?”
“If we leave Storybrooke, it will be for the Enchanted Forest,” Snow says firmly. “And we will not be safe to do that until--”
“Wait a minute!” Jefferson is the one to speak up from the benches. Emma still tenses at the sight of him, and she doesn’t miss the cruel smile that tugs at the corners of Regina’s mouth. “Who says we want to go back there?” He’s holding Grace’s hand as he speaks, and she looks every bit as determined as he does.
“Of course we have to go back,” James says, sounding every bit the King for once. “It’s our home.”
“I think the point Jefferson is making,” Regina interrupts. “Is that not everyone has such a charmed life in the Enchanted Forest. I’m in no hurry to return there.”
Emma tries (and temporarily fails) to look stunned at the news. Ruby catches her eye across the table, and Emma forces herself to look down. Even now, she doesn’t feel comfortable with being known.
“The Queen is right,” Frederick chimes in next. “I have no desire to return to a world where I don’t have the status to marry the woman I love.”
“Obviously, there would be changes,” Snow tries to placate them. “We’ve all learned something from being in this world.”
“Like your kid growing up to be a dyke?” Grumpy says, finally putting his glass down long enough to comment. The room falls silent at the outburst, and Emma can barely look at Snow, the betrayal on her face is so obvious, so horrible.
“I suggest you keep your counsel,” James says in a low, dangerous voice. “You’ve been a great friend to us, but that does not permit this--”
“What? We risked our lives to get you two together. To save your kid. And then we wake up to discover she’s sleeping with the enemy?” Grumpy gets to his feet, swaying again. Emma feels a pang of sympathy in the midst of her familiar red mist. It’s taking every last scrap of willpower not to walk right over there and kick his ass.
“Enough!” Snow has recovered now. “Go upstairs and sleep it off. Now!”
“I don’t know what happened to you, sister,” Grumpy says, staring her down. “But I remember all too well when you were ready to put a poison arrow through that bitch’s heart.”
There’s a ripple around the room at that, apparently Emma isn’t the only one who doesn’t know the whole story. Regina stiffens beside her, and Emma takes her hand on sheer instinct.
“I think we should take a break,” James says, not waiting for argument. “We’ll revisit this tomorrow, about going back to the Enchanted Forest.”
Emma looks around assembled faces, and sees a lot of discontent coming back at her.
***
It takes another three days, but they wake up on Saturday to discover a group has packed up and fled in the night. Snow takes it personally, wringing her hands as they work out the missing faces.
Emma hangs back in the corner, watching Regina explain something quietly to Henry. Emma’s relieved when Ruby comes charging into the room, red coat draped on her shoulders.
“You didn’t go,” Emma says, pulling Ruby into a hug that surprises both of them.
“Of course not,” Ruby says. “Snow’s almost as much my family as she is yours.”
***
It’s raining as they lie in bed, Regina’s fingers running restlessly through Emma’s hair. It would be peaceful, maybe, with someone else, but Emma is on guard. Even sex hasn’t done much to reduce the tension, though at one point Emma was concerned Regina might fuck her through the mattress.
“I was thinking,” Emma says, after a while. “I don’t know if I want to go back, either.”
“We can’t stay like this forever,” Regina counters, and Emma assumes that doesn’t just refer to being naked and a little sweaty in the middle of the afternoon. “Something has to change.”
“I suppose so,” Emma says. “I hate waiting.”
Regina presses an absent-minded kiss to the top of her head.
“Sometimes, that’s all there is,” Regina says, but it doesn’t sound as sad as it might.
***
Something else, inevitably, has to go wrong.
***
Regina’s back in bed for the night when the building shakes. Emma stumbles to her feet at the first booming noise, grabbing her gun even before her eyes are open. She’s lived through hurricanes, felt an earthquake beneath her feet, but this is somehow worse. It feels like the air itself is breaking apart, and she reaches for Regina on blind instinct as they stumble towards the bedroom door.
“Henry!” Regina shouts, but Emma is already pulling them both towards his door. The doorknob is icy cold beneath her palm, so Emma lets go and kicks the door open instead.
There’s a flash. There’s another booming sound that doesn’t quite cover a scream.
They’re too late.
***
Emma shakes her head, but it won’t stop the ringing in her ears. She can feel a hand on her upper arm--Ruby is there, saying something Emma can’t hear--and she looks down to see that the pocket of her shorts has been torn all the way down. They’re her favorite shorts, if she had to pick a favorite, and now they’re ruined.
The gray cotton is in Regina’s hand, so she must have torn the fabric. Emma wants to be angry about that, but she can’t quite make herself say it.
Regina shrieks, from where she’s kneeling on the floor, and Emma feels the world come rushing back in.
***
“Emma! Emma!” There’s more than one voice calling to her, but she’s crouching down to wrap her arms around Regina. Regina is shaking so hard Emma feels herself vibrating from even the slightest contact, so she hugs Regina a little closer. Even though it’s awkward, and Emma doesn’t really know what she’s doing, it seems to work at least a little.
“Henry,” Regina whispers against Emma’s chest. “Henry.”
“Where is he?” Emma asks, and she doesn’t recognize her own voice. “What happened?” She’s looking at the hole where the wall used to be, taking in the shattered glass and the purple smoke rising from the few remaining bricks. Henry’s bed is snapped in two, its middle sinking towards the floor in a disjointed ‘m’ shape. Emma doesn’t understand why there are sheets, and a comic book, but no eleven year-old boy.
“Emma!” Someone is touching her shoulder, and Emma instinctively wriggles away from the heavy hand. But when she looks up she sees her father standing beside her, his eyes panicked as he surveys the scene, but the set of his jaw is determined in a way that Emma recognizes. “Rumpelstiltskin did this,” he says evenly, finally vocalizing the thoughts that Emma’s shocked brain won’t allow her to put together.
She breathes out then.
This is a clearly-defined problem; when they know the problem is, then they can solve it. All she needs is for Regina to snap out of it too, to get her thoughts in order and tell them exactly how they’re going to get Henry back. Emma pulls back from Regina, tries to shake her a little, just enough to get her moving.
As Regina covers her face with her hands, Emma feels the pity give way to sudden, gut-churning rage.
***
It’s Snow who pulls Emma away, in the end.
James is too stunned by the sudden, slapping, yelling outburst to react. Regina remains on her knees, only now her arms are up over her head, deflecting blows that are no longer landing.
***
“This is her fault,” Emma rages, pacing back and forth in the narrow corridor, pausing only to kick out at the battered, badly-painted baseboards. “What was I thinking? Bringing her here? I might as well have painted a fucking target on Henry’s back.”
“Emma,” Snow interrupts, reaching for Emma’s arm, but she shrugs it off. Being touched just amps up the anger, and she can’t make exceptions just because she’s had a mommy for five minutes.
“We throw her out, tonight,” Emma orders. “Let her crawl back to her mansion.”
“How do we get Henry back?” Ruby asks. “Won’t we need her?”
“I’ll get Henry back,” Emma says. “I’ll go to Gold and tell him to see sense. He doesn’t want to hurt me, he wants to hurt Regina.”
“Emma, no,” James protests. “That’s a terrible plan.”
“It’s not so different to your plan from yesterday,” Emma says, crossing her arms over her chest. It’s the easiest way to hide that her hands are shaking. “And I can handle myself, magic potions or not.”
“You’re an idiot,” comes the cool voice from the doorway of the shattered bedroom. Nobody stayed to check on Regina, Emma realizes. Her anger starts the cold slide into something like shame.
“Don’t you dare talk to me,” Emma says. She has to stand her ground. This is too important, there’s too much at stake; she can feel shitty about it later. “You don’t get to talk.”
“Emma!” Snow is the one to caution her, which stuns everyone in the hallway. “Be reasonable.”
“Reasonable?” Emma spits. “You know what’s been going on this whole time. You know what she did to all of us to get back at you. And you’re telling me to... what? Be nice to her?”
“It’s a terrible thing to lose your child,” Snow says, reaching for her husband’s hand. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone; not even Regina.”
“You’re too nice for your own good, Snow White,” Emma can feel the nagging sickness in the pit of her stomach that tells her to stop this, that tells her to stop lashing out, but the anger still has her in its grip. This is the rage that made her smash windows in her final foster home the night she ran away, it’s the blind, wordless panic that made her steal a car the night she first experienced false labor with Henry.
“Emma,” Regina steps across the hallway now, brushing past Red and James, ignoring the curious look from Snow (she presumably hasn’t heard Regina say that name much either). “I understand,” Regina says calmly. “I’m the only person who does, remember?”
Emma tries to think of their talk in the garden a few days ago, tries to think of anything but the fact that she can still taste Regina on her lips and feel the stickiness of what they’ve done against her skin. Regina’s getting closer, and the air is crackling again in that way it does whenever they get close (since before magic, since the first time they met).
“You did this,” Emma cries out, but her voice breaks. “You did this,” she’s crying now, her eyes feel like a hundred hot needles are pricking them, and it’s more painful than she thought possible.
“No,” Regina says, and she’s close enough now to grab Emma’s wrists, to back her into the pale green wall. “I didn’t do this, Emma. You didn’t do this. We know who did this.”
“He did,” Emma says.
“Yes,” Regina nods, her eyes darker than Emma ever remembers seeing them, almost completely black now. “And we’re going to kill him for it.”
“Yeah?” Emma asks.
“Yes,” Regina repeats, and then her hands are on Emma’s face, in her hair and she’s kissing Emma hard on the lips. It’s not even close to the time or the place, but Emma ignores the surprised ‘oh!’s from over by the door and kisses Regina back. She spells out her panic and fear and failure into the motion of her mouth against Regina’s, taking comfort from the warmth of it, of how strong and how alive Regina feels against her.
“You don’t get to leave me,” Regina gasps when they part. She’s clutching Emma almost hard enough for it to hurt. “You don’t get to leave me over this, okay? You don’t get to run.”
“I’m not running,” Emma promises, stunned at how easy it is to say, at how much she means it. “I’m right here.”
Regina relaxes for a second at that, resting her forehead against Emma’s. There’s a stifled sob, and then the Queen’s mask is right back in place. Regina wraps an arm around Emma’s shoulder and turns back to face the other people in the corridor.
“I don’t want to hear talk of you assembling an army,” Regina warns. “I won’t risk Henry’s life on your boyish enthusiasm, Charming.”
“He’s my grandson!” Charming shouts back at her, instinctively reaching for the sword at his waist. “You’re not Queen anymore, you don’t get to call the shots.”
“Snow, control your little puppy,” Regina snaps, and Emma shivers at the coolness of the words.
“How is this helping?” Snow sighs, already exasperated. “As Henry’s parents, we will of course defer to both of you. But you have to know we want to help.”
“Red,” Regina says. “Your help, I will need. Will you do it?”
“For Henry?” Ruby says. “Of course I will.”
“Don’t you want to know what I need?” Regina says, and there’s something like admiration in her voice. Emma supposes she’s not used to people for agreeing to things without some ulterior motive; Emma can understand that, at least.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ruby says. “Emma, are you okay?”
“I won’t be until we get our kid back,” Emma says firmly. “And that means we listen to Regina, okay?”
“Well said, dear,” Regina says, flexing her arms, causing everyone but Emma to draw back instinctively. “Pack our things - one bag each, essentials only. Red, you should do the same.”
“We’re coming with you,” Snow says.
“No, you’re not,” Regina replies coolly. “You have people here, and you’re going to take them out to the woods, out to the old well. It’s the only safe place I can think of.”
“Emma, Red, get going,” Regina commands. Emma finds herself stumbling back to their room on some kind of auto-pilot. Regina can fill her in as they go. She has to trust something right now, and her gut says Regina is that thing.
“What are you doing?” James questions as Emma ducks into the bedroom.
“I need to trace the magic,” Regina says. “And then we can begin. You two had better go tend to your subjects.”
“Regina?” Snow says, and her tone stops Emma in her tracks. “You get my grandson back, do you hear me?”
“He’s my son,” Regina says simply. “What else can I do?”
Part Five --->
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Rating: NC17 this chapter
Pairing: Emma/Regina - Swan Queen! (although it takes a little while to get there)
Spoilers: post s1-finale fic. Everything is fair game.
Disclaimer: Not mine! These characters belong to ABC/Disney, Horowitz and Kitsis. I'm just playing and no profit is being made.
Word Count: ~4500 (this part)
Warnings: Minor character deaths.
Summary: This is a collision of various prompts collected at Tumblr over the past month. It begins with Henry wondering about how they should feel about Regina now the curse is broken. From there, a plan is hatched which requires Regina and Emma to pose as lovers in order to have Regina admitted to the rabble roused to fight Rumpelstiltskin for control of Storybrooke. That's the premise, you'll have to read to find out the rest.
Prologue (Henry) | Part One | Part Two | Part Three
Regina is a hesitant kisser, at first, and that surprises Emma when she considers the bossy confidence Regina approaches everything else with.
“C’mere,” Emma says, propping herself up on one elbow and then pulling Regina up to a sitting position with her. “This might make it a bit easier.”
“Since when are you interested in easier?” Regina teases, but this time she’s the one pressing her palm against the back of Emma’s neck, drawing her into a deeper kiss that leaves them both breathless.
[Part Four]
Emma is struggling to tamp down the arousal that’s coursing through her, her nipples already hard without a single touch and her head already swimming. She’s torn between the urge to throw Regina down and make her scream and this new, curious urge to take her time and explore every last inch. There’s the unspoken threat in the air that this is probably a one-time deal, and like someone finding an oasis in the desert, Emma isn’t sure she’ll be able to pace herself.
It seems Regina is fighting a similar battle, because her hands are already slipping beneath the washed-out cotton of Emma’s tank top, perfectly soft against Emma’s already overheated skin.
“Oh,” Regina says softly. She bites down on her lip as she watches her own hands travel up to cup Emma’s breasts beneath the cotton. “How did we get to this?”
“Who cares?” Emma replies, seizing the initiative and latching her mouth onto the hollow at the base of Regina’s throat. It provokes the happy hiss that Emma hoped for, and she draws out more reaction with a flash of teeth and the soothing pressure of her tongue. It only takes a few, fumbling seconds to get rid of Regina’s top, and when faced with more bare skin, Emma finds herself greedy and just a little frantic.
Regina’s touch is unrelenting, too. She flicks and then pulls on Emma’s nipples, making her cry out against Regina’s skin. That edge they both have, that familiarity with pain is creeping in, and Emma’s not surprised to feel herself getting even wetter at the thought. When her mouth reaches Regina’s nipple she’s careful to give as good as she gets, nipping with teeth and sucking hard enough to make Regina moan in that stuttering, sighing way that’s already driving Emma crazy.
The rest of their clothing is tugged off, limbs tangling as they press together, seeking out more kisses, hands stroking every newly exposed inch of skin.
“I want--” Regina says, over and over. Unable or unwilling to finish the thought, she’s the most gorgeous thing Emma has ever seen with her face flushed, eyes closed and head tilted back in invitation. “I want,” she repeats, and Emma kisses the end of the sentence against her lips.
It doesn’t take much to have Regina straddling Emma’s crossed legs so they’re facing each other, and Regina wraps her arms around Emma’s neck in agreement at the new position. Regina’s legs are spread, an invitation Emma can’t resist as she runs one testing finger between Regina’s thighs, groaning at the slickness she encounters.
“You do want this,” Emma murmurs, her mouth charting a course over Regina’s breasts again. “You want me,” she adds, and any other time it might sound mocking, even cruel. But they’re being quiet here, in their convent room (and wouldn’t the nuns Emma hated for three years in upstate New York get a kick out of that) and Emma doesn’t want to break anymore than has already been broken.
“Yes,” Regina whispers against Emma’s forehead, and that’s enough. Emma responds by sliding two fingers inside and Regina sounds like she might melt when she sighs in something like relief.
Using her thighs for leverage and her left hand to steady Regina, Emma starts working those fingers in and out in a steady rhythm, relishing every little moan and the way Regina rocks herself into every touch. They kiss, lazily, and Emma moves that steadying hand to pluck each of Regina’s nipples in turn, increasing the pitch of her excited sighs and the pace of her hips as she thrusts down on Emma’s fingers.
A third finger is a formality, and Regina’s practically sobbing by the time Emma starts circling her thumb against Regina’s clit. It would be hell on her wrist to keep this up too long, but Regina’s already starting to clench around Emma’s fingers and she can’t help wondering how long it’s been since Regina had some meaningful kind of release. Emma’s been taking care of basic needs in the shower every few days, but it strikes her that Regina doesn’t seem the type; then again, Regina didn’t seem the type to get fucked while straddling Emma’s lap in the dark, so maybe Emma doesn’t know the first thing about it. Maybe it’s safer that she doesn’t.
“Emma,” Regina almost chokes on the word, the last thing she says before coming around Emma’s hand, riding out every last second before slumping. With her head on Emma’s shoulder, Regina presses fluttering, distracted kisses against the column of Emma’s neck. “Mmm,” is her only comment, but Emma can feel the way that the tension has seeped out of Regina’s body, their warm, damp skin pressed against each other as Regina comes back to herself.
“You’re okay?” Emma asks, still a little terrified of all the damage they brought into the room. Regina kisses Emma soundly on the mouth in response, bolder with her tongue now as she explores and teases. Gradually, Regina wriggles her way out of Emma’s lap, moving around behind her and pulling Emma’s hair aside to lavish the attention of lips and tongue on the back of Emma’s neck and the lines of her shoulders.
Emma’s never mentioned that her back is especially sensitive, but Regina’s already tracing patterns with her fingertips that set Emma’s nerve endings crackling, and when she repeats the trick with her nails, Emma can’t help the gasp that escapes her. There’s some defiant streak left from months of warring with Regina, a part of Emma that wants to make Regina really fucking work for it, but Emma’s already as wet as a river between her legs, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be long before Regina discovers that for herself.
Regina’s scraping her nails over Emma’s ass now, and sure enough slides her fingers over Emma’s cunt just moments later.
“Well,” Regina says, and Emma can see the goddamned smirk without even looking around. “Seems I’m not the only one who wants something.” She strokes her fingers along Emma’s slit with a teasing pressure, and Emma tilts back into her touch without thinking twice about it.
“Don’t think you can make me beg,” Emma says, in a final attempt at defiance.
“Don’t give me ideas,” Regina warns, withdrawing her hand. But a moment later Emma hears a sucking sound and turns to see Regina licking the taste of Emma from her fingers, eyes closed in apparent enjoyment.
Oh, hell.
Emma is about to shove Regina down on the mattress and have her way with her all over again, but Regina reacts first. She presses herself against Emma’s back once more, wrapping an arm around Emma’s chest to hold her in place. Emma arches her neck, turning enough to kiss Regina who greets her with open-mouthed kisses that are just shallow enough to leave Emma closer to begging than she wants to be. Meanwhile, Regina’s other hand is stroking down over Emma’s belly, skimming the neat strip of curls until two fingertips are rubbing gently on Emma’s clit.
Regina relinquishes Emma’s mouth, but she’s sucking and biting on Emma’s shoulder as her fingers work. Regina’s other hand is tangled in Emma’s hair now, tipping her head back to get access to her neck, and Emma lets her own hands play with her nipples until she’s shuddering under the combined touches and coming with a cry that she doesn’t expect to be so loud.
She leans back against Regina, pleasantly surprised when Regina wraps both arms around her in something like a hug. It doesn’t last though, because the buzz starts to wear off and Emma starts to freak out quietly at the intimacy of it. This is not what she signed up for, this is not what they’re supposed to be.
With not very much elegance, Emma shuffles out of Regina’s embrace and collapses on the wrong side of the bed, mashing her face into Regina’s pillow.
“Tired,” she mumbles, hoping Regina can make out the word, but her sigh certainly suggests that she does.
They don’t say goodnight, but Regina takes her place on what used to be Emma’s side of the bed and pulls the sheets up over both of them.
***
Emma wakes at the first hint of sunrise through the improperly closed curtains. When she squints towards the window, she sees Regina sitting on the wide sill, arms wrapped around her knees.
Maybe the right thing to do is to say something, to ask if Regina’s alright. But Emma’s always been a reluctant hero, and right now she has no idea how to help.
She closes her eyes and tries not to call herself a coward.
***
Emma holds her breath and waits for awkward. She shouldn’t have rushed out of their room this morning, but Regina seemed intent on sleeping in and Emma’s stomach was already growling in protest. She can’t even convince herself of that, given how many meals she’s skipped in her life: willingly or not.
So she scoops more cereal into her mouth and waits for Regina to ignore her.
Instead, Regina takes the seat next to Emma and smiles broadly across the table at Henry. She seems relaxed, in a way Emma would never have expected.
“Pass the honey?” Regina asks, and Emma realizes that the jar is right by her wrist. She hands it over, not meeting Regina’s eye when she does.
“You know,” Regina leans in to whisper. “I never had you pegged for the shy type.”
“I’m not!” Emma says, just the hint of a pout creeping in. “I just wasn’t sure if we--”
“What is up with you two?” Henry pipes up. “You’re worse than Grace and Gretel, whispering all the time.”
“Eat your breakfast, kid,” Emma snaps, before softening it a little with a smile. “And not every conversation is for your ears, okay?”
“I think I liked it better when you two hated each other,” Henry grumbles.
Regina’s squeezes Emma’s thigh beneath the table at that, and she finds herself letting go of the restlessness that’s been plaguing her all morning. She doesn’t need to run, Emma tells herself. She hasn’t screwed it all up by sleeping with someone. Regina’s not freaking out or openly plotting Emma’s downfall, and in fact she seems almost... happy.
Despite the fact that in the past month Emma has had to deal with fairytales being real, discovering that she’s a secret princess and that one of her best friend’s turns into a wolf instead of just getting cramps every month, this might actually be the weirdest revelation of all.
She squeezes Regina’s hand where it’s resting on Emma’s thigh, and exhales.
***
Regina adapts--quickly--and she just expects Emma to come along for the ride. They don’t talk about what it means, or give a name to what’s happened between them, they just carry on in much the same way as they have since Regina got there, right down to the sniping and pointless arguments.
If Regina was reluctant to put her hands on Emma when it was all for show, that has evaporated in the face of what they’re now doing in bed every night. (And in the orchard, and in the showers, and hey, morning and afternoon are perfectly valid times too, it turns out). Emma’s just glad that Henry is mostly self-sufficient and that there’s a small army of people to look out for him when his mothers are otherwise engaged.
James looks away, embarrassed, every time Regina wraps an arm around Emma’s waist or takes her hand at dinner. Snow watches, her eyes dancing with curiosity, and Emma makes a point of never being cornered alone. Whatever is happening she doesn’t want to actually discuss it with anyone, least of all her best friend-turned-mom.
It’s supposed to be Emma and Regina’s turn to make dinner, but Regina gleefully enchants the knives and pots to cook for them, giving Emma the trippiest Beauty & the Beast flashback she’s ever experienced. That leaves an hour alone in an otherwise empty kitchen, and Emma does not have the restraint to stop herself reacting to Regina licking cream from her fingertip.
“This is probably in violation of some health codes,” Emma mutters as Regina lifts her onto the worktop, tugging Emma’s jeans down in the process. Any other sarcastic comments short-circuit at the feeling of Regina’s mouth against her, tongue swirling against wet flesh as Emma clutches at the edge of the counter and Regina’s hair in a desperate bid not to completely lose her mind.
Emma comes the first time from the sensation of what Regina’s doing to her, but she suspects the second is more about the way Regina moans against Emma’s cunt, giving away that she’s been fingering herself this whole time. They climax almost in tandem, then, and Emma thinks that maybe she’s going to pass out.
They’re kissing again, and Emma has Regina’s gray dress unzipped, when Snow White walks in on them. Emma blushes redder than the pasta sauce that’s cooking on the stove, and fumbles for some kind of apology. Her mother stares at Emma and Regina in open-mouthed shock, before turning and practically running back out of the kitchen.
***
“Do we need to talk?” Emma asks, when she next bumps into Snow. Emma says it while staring at the floor and wondering if it’s not too late to flee to Boston and beyond, but she makes the effort anyway.
“No,” Snow says quite firmly. “It’s your life, Emma.”
“Right,” Emma says, trying to sound for a second like she knows what the hell she’s doing. “Thanks.”
“Emma?” Snow calls out as they go their separate ways.
“Yeah?” Emma sighs, feeling like the reprimanded teenager again.
“Be careful,” Snow warns, echoing the words she said weeks ago. Emma doesn’t have the heart to tell her that--in every way that matters--it’s way too late for careful.
***
“You’re taking the wrong approach!” Regina snaps, slamming her fist on the table to make the point. Granny and Grumpy tense, ready to subdue Regina if she acts out, but Emma’s hand on her shoulder is enough to calm her. “Speak to your parents,” Regina hisses. “I am tired of wasting my breath.”
“Snow, James,” Emma begins. “What Regina is saying makes sense. Shouldn’t we focus on getting out of Storybrooke instead of picking a fight with the one guy we probably can’t take down?”
“If we leave Storybrooke, it will be for the Enchanted Forest,” Snow says firmly. “And we will not be safe to do that until--”
“Wait a minute!” Jefferson is the one to speak up from the benches. Emma still tenses at the sight of him, and she doesn’t miss the cruel smile that tugs at the corners of Regina’s mouth. “Who says we want to go back there?” He’s holding Grace’s hand as he speaks, and she looks every bit as determined as he does.
“Of course we have to go back,” James says, sounding every bit the King for once. “It’s our home.”
“I think the point Jefferson is making,” Regina interrupts. “Is that not everyone has such a charmed life in the Enchanted Forest. I’m in no hurry to return there.”
Emma tries (and temporarily fails) to look stunned at the news. Ruby catches her eye across the table, and Emma forces herself to look down. Even now, she doesn’t feel comfortable with being known.
“The Queen is right,” Frederick chimes in next. “I have no desire to return to a world where I don’t have the status to marry the woman I love.”
“Obviously, there would be changes,” Snow tries to placate them. “We’ve all learned something from being in this world.”
“Like your kid growing up to be a dyke?” Grumpy says, finally putting his glass down long enough to comment. The room falls silent at the outburst, and Emma can barely look at Snow, the betrayal on her face is so obvious, so horrible.
“I suggest you keep your counsel,” James says in a low, dangerous voice. “You’ve been a great friend to us, but that does not permit this--”
“What? We risked our lives to get you two together. To save your kid. And then we wake up to discover she’s sleeping with the enemy?” Grumpy gets to his feet, swaying again. Emma feels a pang of sympathy in the midst of her familiar red mist. It’s taking every last scrap of willpower not to walk right over there and kick his ass.
“Enough!” Snow has recovered now. “Go upstairs and sleep it off. Now!”
“I don’t know what happened to you, sister,” Grumpy says, staring her down. “But I remember all too well when you were ready to put a poison arrow through that bitch’s heart.”
There’s a ripple around the room at that, apparently Emma isn’t the only one who doesn’t know the whole story. Regina stiffens beside her, and Emma takes her hand on sheer instinct.
“I think we should take a break,” James says, not waiting for argument. “We’ll revisit this tomorrow, about going back to the Enchanted Forest.”
Emma looks around assembled faces, and sees a lot of discontent coming back at her.
***
It takes another three days, but they wake up on Saturday to discover a group has packed up and fled in the night. Snow takes it personally, wringing her hands as they work out the missing faces.
Emma hangs back in the corner, watching Regina explain something quietly to Henry. Emma’s relieved when Ruby comes charging into the room, red coat draped on her shoulders.
“You didn’t go,” Emma says, pulling Ruby into a hug that surprises both of them.
“Of course not,” Ruby says. “Snow’s almost as much my family as she is yours.”
***
It’s raining as they lie in bed, Regina’s fingers running restlessly through Emma’s hair. It would be peaceful, maybe, with someone else, but Emma is on guard. Even sex hasn’t done much to reduce the tension, though at one point Emma was concerned Regina might fuck her through the mattress.
“I was thinking,” Emma says, after a while. “I don’t know if I want to go back, either.”
“We can’t stay like this forever,” Regina counters, and Emma assumes that doesn’t just refer to being naked and a little sweaty in the middle of the afternoon. “Something has to change.”
“I suppose so,” Emma says. “I hate waiting.”
Regina presses an absent-minded kiss to the top of her head.
“Sometimes, that’s all there is,” Regina says, but it doesn’t sound as sad as it might.
***
Something else, inevitably, has to go wrong.
***
Regina’s back in bed for the night when the building shakes. Emma stumbles to her feet at the first booming noise, grabbing her gun even before her eyes are open. She’s lived through hurricanes, felt an earthquake beneath her feet, but this is somehow worse. It feels like the air itself is breaking apart, and she reaches for Regina on blind instinct as they stumble towards the bedroom door.
“Henry!” Regina shouts, but Emma is already pulling them both towards his door. The doorknob is icy cold beneath her palm, so Emma lets go and kicks the door open instead.
There’s a flash. There’s another booming sound that doesn’t quite cover a scream.
They’re too late.
***
Emma shakes her head, but it won’t stop the ringing in her ears. She can feel a hand on her upper arm--Ruby is there, saying something Emma can’t hear--and she looks down to see that the pocket of her shorts has been torn all the way down. They’re her favorite shorts, if she had to pick a favorite, and now they’re ruined.
The gray cotton is in Regina’s hand, so she must have torn the fabric. Emma wants to be angry about that, but she can’t quite make herself say it.
Regina shrieks, from where she’s kneeling on the floor, and Emma feels the world come rushing back in.
***
“Emma! Emma!” There’s more than one voice calling to her, but she’s crouching down to wrap her arms around Regina. Regina is shaking so hard Emma feels herself vibrating from even the slightest contact, so she hugs Regina a little closer. Even though it’s awkward, and Emma doesn’t really know what she’s doing, it seems to work at least a little.
“Henry,” Regina whispers against Emma’s chest. “Henry.”
“Where is he?” Emma asks, and she doesn’t recognize her own voice. “What happened?” She’s looking at the hole where the wall used to be, taking in the shattered glass and the purple smoke rising from the few remaining bricks. Henry’s bed is snapped in two, its middle sinking towards the floor in a disjointed ‘m’ shape. Emma doesn’t understand why there are sheets, and a comic book, but no eleven year-old boy.
“Emma!” Someone is touching her shoulder, and Emma instinctively wriggles away from the heavy hand. But when she looks up she sees her father standing beside her, his eyes panicked as he surveys the scene, but the set of his jaw is determined in a way that Emma recognizes. “Rumpelstiltskin did this,” he says evenly, finally vocalizing the thoughts that Emma’s shocked brain won’t allow her to put together.
She breathes out then.
This is a clearly-defined problem; when they know the problem is, then they can solve it. All she needs is for Regina to snap out of it too, to get her thoughts in order and tell them exactly how they’re going to get Henry back. Emma pulls back from Regina, tries to shake her a little, just enough to get her moving.
As Regina covers her face with her hands, Emma feels the pity give way to sudden, gut-churning rage.
***
It’s Snow who pulls Emma away, in the end.
James is too stunned by the sudden, slapping, yelling outburst to react. Regina remains on her knees, only now her arms are up over her head, deflecting blows that are no longer landing.
***
“This is her fault,” Emma rages, pacing back and forth in the narrow corridor, pausing only to kick out at the battered, badly-painted baseboards. “What was I thinking? Bringing her here? I might as well have painted a fucking target on Henry’s back.”
“Emma,” Snow interrupts, reaching for Emma’s arm, but she shrugs it off. Being touched just amps up the anger, and she can’t make exceptions just because she’s had a mommy for five minutes.
“We throw her out, tonight,” Emma orders. “Let her crawl back to her mansion.”
“How do we get Henry back?” Ruby asks. “Won’t we need her?”
“I’ll get Henry back,” Emma says. “I’ll go to Gold and tell him to see sense. He doesn’t want to hurt me, he wants to hurt Regina.”
“Emma, no,” James protests. “That’s a terrible plan.”
“It’s not so different to your plan from yesterday,” Emma says, crossing her arms over her chest. It’s the easiest way to hide that her hands are shaking. “And I can handle myself, magic potions or not.”
“You’re an idiot,” comes the cool voice from the doorway of the shattered bedroom. Nobody stayed to check on Regina, Emma realizes. Her anger starts the cold slide into something like shame.
“Don’t you dare talk to me,” Emma says. She has to stand her ground. This is too important, there’s too much at stake; she can feel shitty about it later. “You don’t get to talk.”
“Emma!” Snow is the one to caution her, which stuns everyone in the hallway. “Be reasonable.”
“Reasonable?” Emma spits. “You know what’s been going on this whole time. You know what she did to all of us to get back at you. And you’re telling me to... what? Be nice to her?”
“It’s a terrible thing to lose your child,” Snow says, reaching for her husband’s hand. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone; not even Regina.”
“You’re too nice for your own good, Snow White,” Emma can feel the nagging sickness in the pit of her stomach that tells her to stop this, that tells her to stop lashing out, but the anger still has her in its grip. This is the rage that made her smash windows in her final foster home the night she ran away, it’s the blind, wordless panic that made her steal a car the night she first experienced false labor with Henry.
“Emma,” Regina steps across the hallway now, brushing past Red and James, ignoring the curious look from Snow (she presumably hasn’t heard Regina say that name much either). “I understand,” Regina says calmly. “I’m the only person who does, remember?”
Emma tries to think of their talk in the garden a few days ago, tries to think of anything but the fact that she can still taste Regina on her lips and feel the stickiness of what they’ve done against her skin. Regina’s getting closer, and the air is crackling again in that way it does whenever they get close (since before magic, since the first time they met).
“You did this,” Emma cries out, but her voice breaks. “You did this,” she’s crying now, her eyes feel like a hundred hot needles are pricking them, and it’s more painful than she thought possible.
“No,” Regina says, and she’s close enough now to grab Emma’s wrists, to back her into the pale green wall. “I didn’t do this, Emma. You didn’t do this. We know who did this.”
“He did,” Emma says.
“Yes,” Regina nods, her eyes darker than Emma ever remembers seeing them, almost completely black now. “And we’re going to kill him for it.”
“Yeah?” Emma asks.
“Yes,” Regina repeats, and then her hands are on Emma’s face, in her hair and she’s kissing Emma hard on the lips. It’s not even close to the time or the place, but Emma ignores the surprised ‘oh!’s from over by the door and kisses Regina back. She spells out her panic and fear and failure into the motion of her mouth against Regina’s, taking comfort from the warmth of it, of how strong and how alive Regina feels against her.
“You don’t get to leave me,” Regina gasps when they part. She’s clutching Emma almost hard enough for it to hurt. “You don’t get to leave me over this, okay? You don’t get to run.”
“I’m not running,” Emma promises, stunned at how easy it is to say, at how much she means it. “I’m right here.”
Regina relaxes for a second at that, resting her forehead against Emma’s. There’s a stifled sob, and then the Queen’s mask is right back in place. Regina wraps an arm around Emma’s shoulder and turns back to face the other people in the corridor.
“I don’t want to hear talk of you assembling an army,” Regina warns. “I won’t risk Henry’s life on your boyish enthusiasm, Charming.”
“He’s my grandson!” Charming shouts back at her, instinctively reaching for the sword at his waist. “You’re not Queen anymore, you don’t get to call the shots.”
“Snow, control your little puppy,” Regina snaps, and Emma shivers at the coolness of the words.
“How is this helping?” Snow sighs, already exasperated. “As Henry’s parents, we will of course defer to both of you. But you have to know we want to help.”
“Red,” Regina says. “Your help, I will need. Will you do it?”
“For Henry?” Ruby says. “Of course I will.”
“Don’t you want to know what I need?” Regina says, and there’s something like admiration in her voice. Emma supposes she’s not used to people for agreeing to things without some ulterior motive; Emma can understand that, at least.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ruby says. “Emma, are you okay?”
“I won’t be until we get our kid back,” Emma says firmly. “And that means we listen to Regina, okay?”
“Well said, dear,” Regina says, flexing her arms, causing everyone but Emma to draw back instinctively. “Pack our things - one bag each, essentials only. Red, you should do the same.”
“We’re coming with you,” Snow says.
“No, you’re not,” Regina replies coolly. “You have people here, and you’re going to take them out to the woods, out to the old well. It’s the only safe place I can think of.”
“Emma, Red, get going,” Regina commands. Emma finds herself stumbling back to their room on some kind of auto-pilot. Regina can fill her in as they go. She has to trust something right now, and her gut says Regina is that thing.
“What are you doing?” James questions as Emma ducks into the bedroom.
“I need to trace the magic,” Regina says. “And then we can begin. You two had better go tend to your subjects.”
“Regina?” Snow says, and her tone stops Emma in her tracks. “You get my grandson back, do you hear me?”
“He’s my son,” Regina says simply. “What else can I do?”
Part Five --->