A Queen Without Power (Once Upon a Time; Regina/Emma)
TITLE: A Queen Without Power
CHAPTER 11: The Stable Boy Redux
FANDOM: Once Upon a Time
PAIRING: Swan Queen (Regina/Emma)
SPOILERS: Season one (in its entirety)
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: “Why do you care?” Regina asked. And whereas a few nights before it was posed softly and without emphasis... now it was emphatic. Conviction and near desperation laced her tone.
*****
The next couple days passed by with only faint buzzes of activity. Emma and Henry paid a couple more visits to Snow and Charming, who seemed to be getting restless. Snow White still desired a showdown with Regina, while Prince James wished for more information from Rumplestiltskin, though everyone seemed to be laying low.
The town itself seemed to carry on as though nothing had happened. Granny and Red still ran the diner and the bed and breakfast. The fairies kept to the convent and James still picked up shifts at the animal shelter. Some of the residents of the town were anxious to return to their old lives and old homes, while others appeared content to remain in Storybrooke.
According to the prince and princess, appearances from Rumplestiltskin had been fewer and further between. Sightings of him had been only sporadic since his appearance at City Hall, and even Snow White couldn’t help but consider the fact that he was up to something. Yet without any information to go off of, there wasn’t much for anyone to do except to carry on with their day-to-day lives.
And while life in Storybrooke appeared to push forward, the energy back at the estate was at a standstill. Emma had no idea what was happening between her and Regina; it seemed they both volleyed between tenuous care for each other, and tentative indifference. It was the most confusing feeling.
Regina still refused to share any information about the stable boy she had loved, and Emma chose not to push her. Though she was woken up twice the last two nights by Regina. The first time, Regina bolted upright while screaming the stable boy’s name, and the second, she had been yelling at her mother to stop. Each time, Emma sat up, ready to offer comfort against her better judgment, but predictably Regina insisted that she was fine.
Emma had told her each time, “You’re not fine. You should talk about it,” but Regina always ignored her and went back to sleep, seemingly annoyed by her presence.
And yet each morning, Emma awoke to find a fresh cup of hazelnut-flavored coffee waiting for her, almost a metaphorical olive branch from the fallen queen. And each morning she would descend the staircase to find Regina and Henry having breakfast together in the dining room. Regina was no longer politely distant in the mornings, but rather would offer Emma a slight smile as a greeting, which Emma would happily accept and return. She almost wondered if they were becoming friends.
Until one afternoon, when Emma returned to the estate from dropping Henry off with Snow and Charming. She was barely inside before Regina accosted her, eyes ablaze as she held up Henry’s book. “What the hell is this?!”
Emma froze, closing the door behind her as she tried to assess Regina’s demeanor. “It’s... Henry’s book. You’ve seen it before. Why?”
“What the hell is this doing in here?!” She jabbed at one of the pages.
She shook her head, completely confused as to where this rage had suddenly come from. “Regina, what the hell are you--” and then she spotted the contents of the page Regina had open: the ‘Stable Boy’ tale. “Oh.”
“You knew this entire time, didn’t you?”
She met Regina’s eyes, searching the fiery, tear-filled browns as she quickly tried to figure out the best way to handle her. “Look--”
“Didn’t you!”
“Only for three days. Henry found the story and showed it to me.”
Regina’s chin quivered as she looked down at the book again, a large tear falling onto the page. Emma found herself torn between apprehension and sympathy, and she awaited Regina’s next move for her cue.
After a moment, Regina straightened up. Tears remained in her eyes, though her lip ceased to tremble. A cold, hard expression took over her features and she hugged the book to her chest. Then, an almost determined smile graced her lips, and she began to stride with purpose toward her study.
Emma followed after her immediately, having seen that smile before and knowing it never meant anything good was about to happen. “Regina...” she called cautiously, “What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago,” she replied.
With a flick of her wrist, the study’s French doors slammed shut, mere inches behind where Emma stood. She jumped, a slight gasp escaping, as she watched Regina with trepidation.
Regina snapped her fingers and the fireplace off to one side roared to life, its flames jumping high. Emma’s heart began to slam in her chest; she knew what the queen was about to do. “Don’t.”
She spun, eyes glinting as she glared. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”
“Henry,” was her only reply as she took a few steps toward her. “You know that book means a lot to him. And he means a lot to you. Don’t take it away from him.”
Within a split-second, Emma was airborne, her back slamming high against the far wall, right next to a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. She didn’t fall but rather remained almost pinned in place. She glanced to Regina, who was holding up a hand to keep her where she was.
With fury in her eyes, the queen strode over to her, seething, “Don’t use my son against me, ever again!”
But Emma held her ground, teeth clenched as she glared right back into her eyes. “You know if you destroyed that book it would destroy him.”
“Sometimes parents destroy things their children love,” Regina spat, tears filling her eyes again. “Sometimes the thing they love most is taken away from them before they can blink!”
Emma relaxed, no longer struggling under Regina’s invisible grip, understanding where the burst of fury had come from. Regina had re-read the tale and, in doing so, re-lived the trauma of losing her stable boy, her Daniel. “I know,” she murmured, “I know.”
The sudden softness in her tone must have caught Regina off-guard. She relaxed her grip and took a step back, and Emma seized the opportunity to grab her hand in a comforting gesture.
As she did, she gasped, neck thrown back as she was suddenly assaulted with another barrage of images in full technicolor, sounds echoing and pictures rippling and twisting through her mind’s eye:
A little girl in a white coat with flowers in her hair, smiling, ”I’m Snow. Snow White,” and hugging Regina.
A middle-aged king dropping to one knee holding up an extravagant ring proposing marriage, followed by Regina bursting into a stable in a long cloak, desperation in her voice: ”Daniel?!”
Then the two of them attempting to run away, only to be thrown back by an invisible force, created by a woman in a long black cloak.
Finally, the woman in the black cloak ripping the heart from the stable boy and him collapsing in Regina’s arms... her attempts to revive him with a kiss overlaid by the woman’s voice: ”Love is weakness, Regina... I’ve saved you, my love...”
Then, the contact broke and Emma opened her eyes with a gasp, as if coming out of a nightmare. She was crumpled on the floor near the bookcase and she looked up to find Regina crumpled on the other side of the room, against the doors. Both were breathing heavily.
It had happened again -- again when Regina was using magic, though this time it had been much more powerful, more potent. The images and sounds had been much more vivid.
Emma pushed herself up on shaking arms, exhaling, “Regina...”
And Regina appeared to have reached her breaking point. She pushed herself up enough that she was sitting with her back against the doors before she burst into tears, the back of her trembling hand pressing against her lips. Her eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed past and Emma acted on pure instinct, going over to her.
If she threw her against the wall again, then so be it.
Carefully, she placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, kneeling in front of her. “Regina...”
She ducked her head, trying to capture her gaze, a light sheen of tears misting her own eyes just at the sight of pure grief on the queen’s face.
Then before she knew what was happening, Regina had collapsed against her, gut-wrenching sobs escaping as she wrapped her arms tight around Emma’s shoulders. And Emma remained on her knees, arms around Regina’s waist as she tried to offer comfort as best she could, while silently thanking whatever deity was available that she didn’t destroy one of Henry’s most prized possessions.
For the longest time, they remained slumped together on the floor, Regina’s painful sobs eventually ebbing to quiet cries and sniffles. Emma refrained from telling her it would be okay, or that she was there... any of the trite murmurs typically offered with comfort. They’d only spark her ire. Instead she just remained where she was, hugging her and occasionally running a comforting hand over her back.
Finally, Regina seemed to compose herself and Emma was shoved roughly aside. She chose not to feel hurt at the action, though she couldn’t deny the split-second pang. She stood up, offering a hand to the queen who gave her a look through her lashes and then took it.
This time, there was no burst of energy, no mingled images or sounds. They weren’t blasted apart. It was just the two of them, no magic.
Regina gave a slight tug on her tailored jacket, and Emma recognized the gesture. Back to business. So she sighed and prepared herself to be shut out of the study.
But instead, Regina went over and poured them each a glass of scotch, handing one to Emma before she sat on the ornate sofa. “Sit.”
She did so without question, wondering what was up the queen’s sleeve.
Regina was quiet for a long moment. She stirred the scotch in her glass with one finger and brought it to her lips, savoring the liquid. She stared down into the glass and took a few deep breaths. Emma was about to ask her what was on her mind, just as she spoke.
“Daniel was our stable boy,” she began, her tone slow and methodical, almost as if reciting verse. “He had worked for us for a couple years, since I was about sixteen. At first, I ignored him.” Quirking an eyebrow, she added, “Particularly when my mother was watching.”
Emma just sat with her and listened, afraid to offer any sort of response in case it would cause her to shut down.
“But once in awhile, we would chat. About banal things, mostly. But somewhere down the line, they turned into real conversations. And then, deep ones. He was very kind, and he was able to cheer me up when my mother would drag me down.”
Emma allowed a brief smile at that, though Regina took no notice. She was busy staring at the couch cushions, almost looking through them at another life.
“One rainy day, my mother had been berating me, about everything. The way I carried myself, the way that I rode, the way I dressed. So I ran to the stable, just to get away from her. Daniel was there, brushing my steed. He saw how distraught I was and attempted to calm me down, but I was too upset.” She lifted her head, an almost wistful smile on her face. “So he kissed me.”
Emma’s smile widened, and she watched Regina tuck a lock of hair behind her ear before continuing.
“We met up in secret after that... shared stolen kisses, and the occasional picnic lunch. We were in love. But I could never, ever tell my mother.” She shook her head. “No. In her opinion, I was,” she sneered as she mimicked, “‘destined for greatness,’ and shouldn’t waste my time on a commoner.”
Regina told her about the day she and Daniel had met up on the hill and they saw the runaway steed with the little girl on it... the little girl that happened to be Snow White, the daughter of King Leopold. She told her about the King’s visit and subsequent proposal, and her desperation to get away.
She told Emma about the secret she shared with little Snow White, and the consequences that came along with it. By the time she began to describe the fateful night she lost Daniel, she had all but dissolved into tears again.
Emma reached out, carefully, and covered the hand that rested on the back of the couch, knowing it would just get pulled away but still wanting to try. Surprisingly, Regina did not let go. Rather, she turned her hand to grip Emma’s, their fingers lacing together and squeezing tight as if Regina needed some connection with reality as she relived the tale.
Emma watched this all transpire, unable to help noticing that Regina seemed to be unaware of the linking of their hands as she continued tremulously through her story.
“I tried to kiss him awake, I thought it was a spell, but it wasn’t. She had killed him, right in front of my eyes.” Her voice broke and she seemed to hiccup back a sob. “Tore his heart out and crushed it into dust.”
Emma swallowed the lump starting to rise in her throat and gripped Regina’s hand a bit more tightly, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort.
“Then she basically told me to get over it, because I was going to be queen.” Her lip curled derisively, teeth clenched as she ground out, “And it was all because of her... the little brat.”
Emma dipped her head. “She was a little girl, Regina,” she reasoned softly. “She didn’t know any better.”
“Didn’t she? Or did she know exactly what she was doing?”
“Of course not.” She shrugged. “From everything you just told me, it sounds like your mother kinda manipulated her into it.” She tilted her head. “And, I bet it was your mom that made her horse go wild, just so you could save her and have an ‘in’ with the King.”
“I always suspected she had a hand in that whole ‘runaway horse’ bit, but--”
“Alright, look at it this way,” Emma sighed, their fingers still laced as she angled toward Regina a little more. “Your mom can tell you’re hiding something from her. They always can, which I’m sure you know.”
Regina nodded.
“So she suspects you’re hiding something and can tell that you and Snow White have sort of a bond. So that’s the first place she goes for information. What if your mother... put some sort of a spell on her?”
Regina’s dark eyes searched the air between them, as if the answers would appear. “She couldn’t have...”
“Couldn’t she?” Emma raised a brow. “She at least could’ve manipulated her into telling.” She watched Regina absorb that a moment longer before she gently pushed one step further. “What if you were mad at the wrong person this whole time?”
“Stop,” she ground out, glaring through her lashes.
But Emma was unfazed, knowing that now was the time to push. “Stop what? Telling you the truth? Stop telling you things you probably tried to ignore for years? Has there really been nobody trying to point out that your anger was a little misguided? Has nobody pointed out that you let your anger turn you into her?”
“Enough!”
“No. You know that I’m right. You know that you went too far and blamed the wrong person. You know that you let your grief... anger... whatever it was... turn you into something you didn’t want to be.”
“Why do you care?” Regina asked. And whereas a few nights before it was posed softly and without emphasis... now it was emphatic. Conviction and near desperation laced her tone.
“Why do I care? Maybe I care because I know there’s more to you than that, that there’s still something good somewhere deep in there,” she pressed a hand to Regina’s heart without breaking eye contact and felt the erratic thudding, “and I want Henry to see it too. Maybe I care because against my better judgment I kinda can’t help it.”
That made them both freeze. Emma realized all at once what she’d said, and that her hand was still pressed to Regina’s heart. Regina looked down at it and then up at her. Emma drew her hand away and placed it back in her lap, embarrassed.
“You care about me.”
“I guess... maybe. I don’t know.” Her eyes flitted away and she tucked a few curls behind her ear. She had no idea where the outburst had come from. She had been all hopped up from getting flashes of Regina’s memories -- something she still didn’t have an explanation for -- not to mention from hearing the tale of the stable boy in Regina’s own words.
She swallowed, asking her lap, “Do you care about me?” before slowly looking up and meeting Regina’s brown eyes.
Regina drew in a breath and opened her mouth to respond. Before a syllable could be uttered, however, the sound of breaking glass shattered the moment.
The two of them jumped up in unison, looking around. “What the hell was that?”
Together, they headed for the source of the noise and stopped short in the doorway to the kitchen. The window over the sink was broken, a round impact shatter almost like a baseball the likely culprit.
“Is Henry back?” Regina asked, striding quickly for the back door.
Emma rushed to catch up. “Don’t think so. If he was, I don’t think he’d be out back throwing baseballs at the window.”
They stepped outside into the cool night air, Regina stopping short just as she stepped onto the patio. Emma crashed into her, not expecting the quick stop, and braced her hands on Regina’s arms momentarily. “What?”
Regina just stared, and Emma followed her gaze, furrowing her brows. “How in the world--”
“That’s not possible,” Regina breathed.
The apple tree, which had rotted once the curse had broken, was now once again in full bloom. Deep red apples hung low, waiting to be picked.
They then turned to see that the source of the broken window was not a baseball, but rather an apple with a small scroll tied around it.
Emma looked to Regina, who appeared to be in shock, and her stomach turned. If she was shocked into silence, that couldn’t possibly mean anything good.
“Regina...”
Regina held out a hand low and to the side, a signal to Emma to stay back. She bent to pick up the apple, inspecting the break pattern on the window briefly before pulling the scroll from the red piece of fruit, unrolling it and beginning to read.
And Emma grew sicker and sicker as she watched Regina’s complexion grow more and more pale. Finally, the queen swallowed hard and met her eyes.
“What is it?” she asked, dreading the answer.
Regina said nothing; merely made her way over holding the apple in one hand and the parchment scroll in the other. She placed the parchment in Emma’s hand for her to read:
Hope you don’t mind that I spruced up your apple tree, dearie. It was looking rather dire.
Oh and by the way - your fun little bubble may keep out the others, but it can’t fool me.
Ta.
-R
TBC
{x-posted to onceupon_fanfic and regina_emma}
CHAPTER 11: The Stable Boy Redux
FANDOM: Once Upon a Time
PAIRING: Swan Queen (Regina/Emma)
SPOILERS: Season one (in its entirety)
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: “Why do you care?” Regina asked. And whereas a few nights before it was posed softly and without emphasis... now it was emphatic. Conviction and near desperation laced her tone.
*****
The next couple days passed by with only faint buzzes of activity. Emma and Henry paid a couple more visits to Snow and Charming, who seemed to be getting restless. Snow White still desired a showdown with Regina, while Prince James wished for more information from Rumplestiltskin, though everyone seemed to be laying low.
The town itself seemed to carry on as though nothing had happened. Granny and Red still ran the diner and the bed and breakfast. The fairies kept to the convent and James still picked up shifts at the animal shelter. Some of the residents of the town were anxious to return to their old lives and old homes, while others appeared content to remain in Storybrooke.
According to the prince and princess, appearances from Rumplestiltskin had been fewer and further between. Sightings of him had been only sporadic since his appearance at City Hall, and even Snow White couldn’t help but consider the fact that he was up to something. Yet without any information to go off of, there wasn’t much for anyone to do except to carry on with their day-to-day lives.
And while life in Storybrooke appeared to push forward, the energy back at the estate was at a standstill. Emma had no idea what was happening between her and Regina; it seemed they both volleyed between tenuous care for each other, and tentative indifference. It was the most confusing feeling.
Regina still refused to share any information about the stable boy she had loved, and Emma chose not to push her. Though she was woken up twice the last two nights by Regina. The first time, Regina bolted upright while screaming the stable boy’s name, and the second, she had been yelling at her mother to stop. Each time, Emma sat up, ready to offer comfort against her better judgment, but predictably Regina insisted that she was fine.
Emma had told her each time, “You’re not fine. You should talk about it,” but Regina always ignored her and went back to sleep, seemingly annoyed by her presence.
And yet each morning, Emma awoke to find a fresh cup of hazelnut-flavored coffee waiting for her, almost a metaphorical olive branch from the fallen queen. And each morning she would descend the staircase to find Regina and Henry having breakfast together in the dining room. Regina was no longer politely distant in the mornings, but rather would offer Emma a slight smile as a greeting, which Emma would happily accept and return. She almost wondered if they were becoming friends.
Until one afternoon, when Emma returned to the estate from dropping Henry off with Snow and Charming. She was barely inside before Regina accosted her, eyes ablaze as she held up Henry’s book. “What the hell is this?!”
Emma froze, closing the door behind her as she tried to assess Regina’s demeanor. “It’s... Henry’s book. You’ve seen it before. Why?”
“What the hell is this doing in here?!” She jabbed at one of the pages.
She shook her head, completely confused as to where this rage had suddenly come from. “Regina, what the hell are you--” and then she spotted the contents of the page Regina had open: the ‘Stable Boy’ tale. “Oh.”
“You knew this entire time, didn’t you?”
She met Regina’s eyes, searching the fiery, tear-filled browns as she quickly tried to figure out the best way to handle her. “Look--”
“Didn’t you!”
“Only for three days. Henry found the story and showed it to me.”
Regina’s chin quivered as she looked down at the book again, a large tear falling onto the page. Emma found herself torn between apprehension and sympathy, and she awaited Regina’s next move for her cue.
After a moment, Regina straightened up. Tears remained in her eyes, though her lip ceased to tremble. A cold, hard expression took over her features and she hugged the book to her chest. Then, an almost determined smile graced her lips, and she began to stride with purpose toward her study.
Emma followed after her immediately, having seen that smile before and knowing it never meant anything good was about to happen. “Regina...” she called cautiously, “What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago,” she replied.
With a flick of her wrist, the study’s French doors slammed shut, mere inches behind where Emma stood. She jumped, a slight gasp escaping, as she watched Regina with trepidation.
Regina snapped her fingers and the fireplace off to one side roared to life, its flames jumping high. Emma’s heart began to slam in her chest; she knew what the queen was about to do. “Don’t.”
She spun, eyes glinting as she glared. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”
“Henry,” was her only reply as she took a few steps toward her. “You know that book means a lot to him. And he means a lot to you. Don’t take it away from him.”
Within a split-second, Emma was airborne, her back slamming high against the far wall, right next to a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. She didn’t fall but rather remained almost pinned in place. She glanced to Regina, who was holding up a hand to keep her where she was.
With fury in her eyes, the queen strode over to her, seething, “Don’t use my son against me, ever again!”
But Emma held her ground, teeth clenched as she glared right back into her eyes. “You know if you destroyed that book it would destroy him.”
“Sometimes parents destroy things their children love,” Regina spat, tears filling her eyes again. “Sometimes the thing they love most is taken away from them before they can blink!”
Emma relaxed, no longer struggling under Regina’s invisible grip, understanding where the burst of fury had come from. Regina had re-read the tale and, in doing so, re-lived the trauma of losing her stable boy, her Daniel. “I know,” she murmured, “I know.”
The sudden softness in her tone must have caught Regina off-guard. She relaxed her grip and took a step back, and Emma seized the opportunity to grab her hand in a comforting gesture.
As she did, she gasped, neck thrown back as she was suddenly assaulted with another barrage of images in full technicolor, sounds echoing and pictures rippling and twisting through her mind’s eye:
A little girl in a white coat with flowers in her hair, smiling, ”I’m Snow. Snow White,” and hugging Regina.
A middle-aged king dropping to one knee holding up an extravagant ring proposing marriage, followed by Regina bursting into a stable in a long cloak, desperation in her voice: ”Daniel?!”
Then the two of them attempting to run away, only to be thrown back by an invisible force, created by a woman in a long black cloak.
Finally, the woman in the black cloak ripping the heart from the stable boy and him collapsing in Regina’s arms... her attempts to revive him with a kiss overlaid by the woman’s voice: ”Love is weakness, Regina... I’ve saved you, my love...”
Then, the contact broke and Emma opened her eyes with a gasp, as if coming out of a nightmare. She was crumpled on the floor near the bookcase and she looked up to find Regina crumpled on the other side of the room, against the doors. Both were breathing heavily.
It had happened again -- again when Regina was using magic, though this time it had been much more powerful, more potent. The images and sounds had been much more vivid.
Emma pushed herself up on shaking arms, exhaling, “Regina...”
And Regina appeared to have reached her breaking point. She pushed herself up enough that she was sitting with her back against the doors before she burst into tears, the back of her trembling hand pressing against her lips. Her eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed past and Emma acted on pure instinct, going over to her.
If she threw her against the wall again, then so be it.
Carefully, she placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, kneeling in front of her. “Regina...”
She ducked her head, trying to capture her gaze, a light sheen of tears misting her own eyes just at the sight of pure grief on the queen’s face.
Then before she knew what was happening, Regina had collapsed against her, gut-wrenching sobs escaping as she wrapped her arms tight around Emma’s shoulders. And Emma remained on her knees, arms around Regina’s waist as she tried to offer comfort as best she could, while silently thanking whatever deity was available that she didn’t destroy one of Henry’s most prized possessions.
For the longest time, they remained slumped together on the floor, Regina’s painful sobs eventually ebbing to quiet cries and sniffles. Emma refrained from telling her it would be okay, or that she was there... any of the trite murmurs typically offered with comfort. They’d only spark her ire. Instead she just remained where she was, hugging her and occasionally running a comforting hand over her back.
Finally, Regina seemed to compose herself and Emma was shoved roughly aside. She chose not to feel hurt at the action, though she couldn’t deny the split-second pang. She stood up, offering a hand to the queen who gave her a look through her lashes and then took it.
This time, there was no burst of energy, no mingled images or sounds. They weren’t blasted apart. It was just the two of them, no magic.
Regina gave a slight tug on her tailored jacket, and Emma recognized the gesture. Back to business. So she sighed and prepared herself to be shut out of the study.
But instead, Regina went over and poured them each a glass of scotch, handing one to Emma before she sat on the ornate sofa. “Sit.”
She did so without question, wondering what was up the queen’s sleeve.
Regina was quiet for a long moment. She stirred the scotch in her glass with one finger and brought it to her lips, savoring the liquid. She stared down into the glass and took a few deep breaths. Emma was about to ask her what was on her mind, just as she spoke.
“Daniel was our stable boy,” she began, her tone slow and methodical, almost as if reciting verse. “He had worked for us for a couple years, since I was about sixteen. At first, I ignored him.” Quirking an eyebrow, she added, “Particularly when my mother was watching.”
Emma just sat with her and listened, afraid to offer any sort of response in case it would cause her to shut down.
“But once in awhile, we would chat. About banal things, mostly. But somewhere down the line, they turned into real conversations. And then, deep ones. He was very kind, and he was able to cheer me up when my mother would drag me down.”
Emma allowed a brief smile at that, though Regina took no notice. She was busy staring at the couch cushions, almost looking through them at another life.
“One rainy day, my mother had been berating me, about everything. The way I carried myself, the way that I rode, the way I dressed. So I ran to the stable, just to get away from her. Daniel was there, brushing my steed. He saw how distraught I was and attempted to calm me down, but I was too upset.” She lifted her head, an almost wistful smile on her face. “So he kissed me.”
Emma’s smile widened, and she watched Regina tuck a lock of hair behind her ear before continuing.
“We met up in secret after that... shared stolen kisses, and the occasional picnic lunch. We were in love. But I could never, ever tell my mother.” She shook her head. “No. In her opinion, I was,” she sneered as she mimicked, “‘destined for greatness,’ and shouldn’t waste my time on a commoner.”
Regina told her about the day she and Daniel had met up on the hill and they saw the runaway steed with the little girl on it... the little girl that happened to be Snow White, the daughter of King Leopold. She told her about the King’s visit and subsequent proposal, and her desperation to get away.
She told Emma about the secret she shared with little Snow White, and the consequences that came along with it. By the time she began to describe the fateful night she lost Daniel, she had all but dissolved into tears again.
Emma reached out, carefully, and covered the hand that rested on the back of the couch, knowing it would just get pulled away but still wanting to try. Surprisingly, Regina did not let go. Rather, she turned her hand to grip Emma’s, their fingers lacing together and squeezing tight as if Regina needed some connection with reality as she relived the tale.
Emma watched this all transpire, unable to help noticing that Regina seemed to be unaware of the linking of their hands as she continued tremulously through her story.
“I tried to kiss him awake, I thought it was a spell, but it wasn’t. She had killed him, right in front of my eyes.” Her voice broke and she seemed to hiccup back a sob. “Tore his heart out and crushed it into dust.”
Emma swallowed the lump starting to rise in her throat and gripped Regina’s hand a bit more tightly, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort.
“Then she basically told me to get over it, because I was going to be queen.” Her lip curled derisively, teeth clenched as she ground out, “And it was all because of her... the little brat.”
Emma dipped her head. “She was a little girl, Regina,” she reasoned softly. “She didn’t know any better.”
“Didn’t she? Or did she know exactly what she was doing?”
“Of course not.” She shrugged. “From everything you just told me, it sounds like your mother kinda manipulated her into it.” She tilted her head. “And, I bet it was your mom that made her horse go wild, just so you could save her and have an ‘in’ with the King.”
“I always suspected she had a hand in that whole ‘runaway horse’ bit, but--”
“Alright, look at it this way,” Emma sighed, their fingers still laced as she angled toward Regina a little more. “Your mom can tell you’re hiding something from her. They always can, which I’m sure you know.”
Regina nodded.
“So she suspects you’re hiding something and can tell that you and Snow White have sort of a bond. So that’s the first place she goes for information. What if your mother... put some sort of a spell on her?”
Regina’s dark eyes searched the air between them, as if the answers would appear. “She couldn’t have...”
“Couldn’t she?” Emma raised a brow. “She at least could’ve manipulated her into telling.” She watched Regina absorb that a moment longer before she gently pushed one step further. “What if you were mad at the wrong person this whole time?”
“Stop,” she ground out, glaring through her lashes.
But Emma was unfazed, knowing that now was the time to push. “Stop what? Telling you the truth? Stop telling you things you probably tried to ignore for years? Has there really been nobody trying to point out that your anger was a little misguided? Has nobody pointed out that you let your anger turn you into her?”
“Enough!”
“No. You know that I’m right. You know that you went too far and blamed the wrong person. You know that you let your grief... anger... whatever it was... turn you into something you didn’t want to be.”
“Why do you care?” Regina asked. And whereas a few nights before it was posed softly and without emphasis... now it was emphatic. Conviction and near desperation laced her tone.
“Why do I care? Maybe I care because I know there’s more to you than that, that there’s still something good somewhere deep in there,” she pressed a hand to Regina’s heart without breaking eye contact and felt the erratic thudding, “and I want Henry to see it too. Maybe I care because against my better judgment I kinda can’t help it.”
That made them both freeze. Emma realized all at once what she’d said, and that her hand was still pressed to Regina’s heart. Regina looked down at it and then up at her. Emma drew her hand away and placed it back in her lap, embarrassed.
“You care about me.”
“I guess... maybe. I don’t know.” Her eyes flitted away and she tucked a few curls behind her ear. She had no idea where the outburst had come from. She had been all hopped up from getting flashes of Regina’s memories -- something she still didn’t have an explanation for -- not to mention from hearing the tale of the stable boy in Regina’s own words.
She swallowed, asking her lap, “Do you care about me?” before slowly looking up and meeting Regina’s brown eyes.
Regina drew in a breath and opened her mouth to respond. Before a syllable could be uttered, however, the sound of breaking glass shattered the moment.
The two of them jumped up in unison, looking around. “What the hell was that?”
Together, they headed for the source of the noise and stopped short in the doorway to the kitchen. The window over the sink was broken, a round impact shatter almost like a baseball the likely culprit.
“Is Henry back?” Regina asked, striding quickly for the back door.
Emma rushed to catch up. “Don’t think so. If he was, I don’t think he’d be out back throwing baseballs at the window.”
They stepped outside into the cool night air, Regina stopping short just as she stepped onto the patio. Emma crashed into her, not expecting the quick stop, and braced her hands on Regina’s arms momentarily. “What?”
Regina just stared, and Emma followed her gaze, furrowing her brows. “How in the world--”
“That’s not possible,” Regina breathed.
The apple tree, which had rotted once the curse had broken, was now once again in full bloom. Deep red apples hung low, waiting to be picked.
They then turned to see that the source of the broken window was not a baseball, but rather an apple with a small scroll tied around it.
Emma looked to Regina, who appeared to be in shock, and her stomach turned. If she was shocked into silence, that couldn’t possibly mean anything good.
“Regina...”
Regina held out a hand low and to the side, a signal to Emma to stay back. She bent to pick up the apple, inspecting the break pattern on the window briefly before pulling the scroll from the red piece of fruit, unrolling it and beginning to read.
And Emma grew sicker and sicker as she watched Regina’s complexion grow more and more pale. Finally, the queen swallowed hard and met her eyes.
“What is it?” she asked, dreading the answer.
Regina said nothing; merely made her way over holding the apple in one hand and the parchment scroll in the other. She placed the parchment in Emma’s hand for her to read:
Hope you don’t mind that I spruced up your apple tree, dearie. It was looking rather dire.
Oh and by the way - your fun little bubble may keep out the others, but it can’t fool me.
Ta.
-R
TBC
{x-posted to onceupon_fanfic and regina_emma}