Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Under the cover of night, guided only by starlight and the low burn of torches, Regina moved through the forest in a heavy hooded cloak. To any traveler she might pass, she was no more than a shadow—anonymous, unremarkable, unimportant.

That was the point.

She was not here as the Queen.

She was here in search of a seer.

The prophecy was already in motion.

The child of Snow and David was destined to sacrifice herself to save Regina—and in doing so, end her reign of terror.

Regina would not allow it.

Snow and David had acted quickly, decisively—too decisively. They had sent their child through a wardrobe to a realm where time ran faster, eager to rush fate along rather than face it. They called it mercy. Regina called it what it was: selfishness.

They wanted a child, not a lamb raised for slaughter. They wanted love without consequence. And when the cost of that love became too heavy, they chose to spare themselves the pain.

Regina scoffed softly at the thought.

Time beyond the wardrobe moved unpredictably—years passing in the span of weeks. Emma could return fully grown at any moment, carrying the weight of a destiny she never asked for.

And Regina refused to be caught unprepared.

The shadows of the hut twisted as Regina stepped inside, the flickering candlelight bending across the walls. The seer sat waiting, calm and immovable, like she had been expecting Regina all along.

“You seek guidance,” the seer said softly. Her hands hovered above a spread of cards, but she didn’t touch them. “Or perhaps the guidance seeks you.”

Regina’s gaze was steady. “Tell me what I need to know.”

The seer’s eyes gleamed. “You will not be asked to abandon what you love,” she began, voice like silk over steel. “Only to stop losing yourself within it. What meets you there will endure.”

Regina’s brow furrowed, absorbing each word. Love? Weakness? She had learned long ago that attachments could be tools—or weapons. “Explain,” she demanded.

The seer did not clarify, only let the silence hang, thick and expectant. Then she gestured toward a card depicting two figures standing side by side, shadows stretching between them. “One will rise, one will falter, and one will choose. Their choice is not yours to make—but you will feel its weight. Guard it. Use it.”

Regina’s lips curved into a small, calculated smile. She didn’t hear romance. She didn’t hear tenderness. She heard influence, leverage, survival. Someone’s devotion and self-direction would be decisive. Someone could be the key to her plans—or the instrument of her ruin.

“Useful,” she murmured as she rose, pulling her cloak tight. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying the faint promise of things to come. The pieces were moving already—and Regina would make sure she stayed ahead.

When Regina heard, “You will not be asked to abandon what you love,” she understood it to mean she wouldn’t have to give up her power, her control. It fit neatly into the rules she’d always set for herself: strength was survival, control was protection, and nothing else mattered.

“Only to stop losing yourself in it” was the part that pricked at her. Lose herself? She didn’t lose herself in her power—this was who she had always been, lying just beneath the surface, sharp and precise, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Or at least…

That’s what she kept telling herself.

But as the words lingered, a flicker of doubt nudged at the edges of her mind. What if there was something she hadn’t accounted for? Something… human. A choice, a bond, a loyalty that wasn’t about strategy or control. She shook it off. There was no room for mistakes. Prophecies could be bent—twisted to serve her. They always could.

Yet a small, unacknowledged part of her wondered: what if this one couldn’t?

—

The next week, she felt it—a jolt that yanked her upright in bed, heart thundering in her chest. Emma was here. Not in body alone, but in something deeper, something subtle that prickled along her skin and stirred the hairs on her arms. Not the pull of her magic—this was different. Something older, sharper. The prophecy that tied them together, whispering in ways only she could sense.

A slow smile tugged at her lips. The time had come to face her opponent. Every lesson, every calculated move she’d made, led to this. Regina would ensure Emma didn’t even glimpse the satisfaction of winning—not today, not ever.

And yet, beneath the carefully measured resolve, a flicker of something else stirred—a dangerous curiosity. How far would the girl go? How much fire could she withstand before it burned her? Regina didn’t need to answer now. The game had begun, and she would play it to the last heartbeat.

Still, Regina had expected a girl. Young, untested, manageable. Someone she could predict, someone she could bend to her plans.

She was not prepared for what—or who—would truly be waiting for her.

Even before the encounter, a flicker of unease stirred. Something about the air, the way the magic shifted, suggested this wouldn’t be as simple as she thought.

Chapter Text

Emma didn’t know how she’d ended up here.

One minute she was celebrating her thirtieth birthday. The next, her yellow ’70s VW Beetle had slammed into a tree—or maybe it hadn’t. It felt less like a crash and more like… being swallowed.

Now she stood in the middle of a castle that looked like someone had dropped a Renaissance faire straight into reality. Stone arches. Torchlight. Banners she didn’t recognize. Her red leather bomber jacket made her stick out like a neon sign.

And the couple staring at her like she’d grown a second head wasn’t helping.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” The dark-haired woman pressed a hand to her mouth, breath catching. Her white dress flowed around her, embroidered flowers climbing from the hem as if they’d grown there.

The man beside her—blond, broad-shouldered, painfully handsome—rested one hand on the hilt of a sword. His princely attire was so perfect it looked lifted from a storybook.

Or maybe Emma had stepped straight into one.

She turned in a slow circle, glancing over both shoulders like someone else might pop into existence and explain all of this. “Me?” A nervous laugh slipped out. “I’m sorry… do I know you?”

“I—I’m…” The woman faltered. It had only been a week since they’d sent her through the wardrobe, yet here she was—grown, self-assured, fully their child, and somehow older than they’d imagined. “I’m Snow White. I’m your mother.”

Something hollow opened in Emma’s chest—not shock, not disbelief, but a familiar, sinking weight.

Mothers didn’t just appear out of nowhere.  

They left. Or vanished. Or chose something else.

Emma laughed, short and incredulous. “Okay. Okay—this is a prank, right?” She jabbed a thumb at the man. “Let me guess. Prince Charming?”

He straightened, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Most people call me David. But if it helps… you can call me Dad.”

Emma snorted. “Yeah, not happening, Princey.” She crossed her arms, scanning the room. “So what—are you two extremely committed cosplayers? How hard did I hit my head?” She scratched at her scalp. No blood. No pain. Nothing.

Then purple smoke spilled across the floor.

It coiled and thickened, swallowing the space before dispersing to reveal a woman standing where none had been before. She radiated control. Long dark hair framed a sharp, composed face—brown eyes cutting, red lips curved in a knowing, almost cruel smile. Her crimson dress, cinched with black lace, looked less like clothing and more like armor.

“Well,” she said, voice low and smooth, “look who’s finally home.”

She tilted her head, gaze lingering as she approached, heels clicking with deliberate precision. “You’re a few years past curfew,” she added, amusement threading her words.

Emma swallowed. Every measured step, every subtle smirk, every assessing glance radiated danger. The woman circled her slowly, as if cataloging weaknesses.

A chill slid down Emma’s spine.

This wasn’t just a woman in a dress.  

This was a force—and Emma had stepped directly into its orbit.

“Leave her alone, Regina!” Snow shouted, fists clenched.

Regina laughed softly. “Relax. I promise to take very good care of her.”

And then the world lurched.

Before Emma could pull free, Regina’s fingers closed around her wrist. Reality blurred, folded in on itself—

—and snapped back.

Another castle. Another throne room. Darker. Sharper. More… Regina.

She settled onto the throne as if it had been waiting for her, leaning back with her legs crossed, a lazy smirk curving her lips. “So, Emmma,” she drawled, savoring the name. “What all did Mommy Dearest tell you?”

Emma folded her arms, eyes narrowing. “I never gave you my name.” This had to be a coma dream. It had to be. No stranger just knew someone’s name like that. 

“I didn’t need you to.” Regina’s amusement thinned. “Emma Swan. The Savior destined to free this kingdom from my wrath—by sacrificing herself to save me.” She recited it like a tired prophecy, punctuating it with an eye roll.

Emma’s brow furrowed. “—Wait. What?”

“Oh.” Regina’s lips curved in smug recognition. “Your parents didn’t tell you that part?”

Emma let out a sharp laugh, eyes narrowing. “Please. Those two numbskulls? They’re hardly my parents.”

Regina hummed, rose and crossed the room until she stood inches away. “I wouldn’t claim them either. But they are exactly who you think they are.” Her voice sharpened. “Cowards who abandoned you to save themselves.” She watched Emma carefully. “Sound familiar?”

The words struck deep. Emma swallowed, then forced a crooked smile. “Okay. Let’s pretend any of this is real.” She gestured between them. “Why would I stay here and kill myself to save you?”

“Because,” Regina said quietly, her voice dropping, “I’m not going to let you die.”

Emma blinked. “Why would you—?”

“Don’t misunderstand,” Regina cut in smoothly. “Watching Snow White’s child die might feel like fitting karma.” She clicked her tongue. “But your death ends my reign. And I have no intention of surrendering power.”

Emma laughed bitterly and stepped closer, daring her. “So I’m a tool. A pawn in your empire. How original.”

Regina arched a brow, leaning in just enough to invade her space. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. “Such fire,” she murmured. “You really are a Charming.”

“I’m guessing you don’t mean that in the flattering way,” Emma said dryly.

Regina’s expression cooled. “I mean you’re exactly like your parents.”

Emma’s jaw tightened. “If that’s meant to hurt, you’re about thirty years too late.” A humorless laugh escaped her. “And if you truly believed it, I wouldn’t still be breathing.”

Regina’s brow lifted. “Oh?”

“You can’t stand them either,” Emma said evenly. “Just an observation, Your Majesty.” The title dripped with sarcasm. “And if I were really that much like them, you wouldn’t be keeping me so close.”

Regina’s lips curved, amused. “I like the sound of ‘either’.”

Emma scoffed. “Did you expect some warm, magical reunion? Because the people who left me don’t get to claim me now.”

“Everyone bends to them,” Regina said coolly. “I assumed their daughter would too.” Her gaze lingered, assessing. “Clearly… that was a mistake.”

A pause. Then, softer—dangerously so.  

“And mistakes can be useful.”

Emma let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Funny. This whole messed-up place has decided I’m expendable if it stops you.” She met Regina’s eyes. “And you’re the only one trying to keep me alive.”

She exhaled slowly.

“Guess that makes you the devil I know.”

Regina huffed a soft laugh.

“How tragic,” she said dryly. “The Evil Queen is your safest option.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Life is full of disappointments.”

Chapter Text

Emma woke the next morning in a room that felt… unexpected.

Stone walls, yes—but softened by tall windows that flooded the space with light and greenery just beyond the glass. It was nothing like the rest of the castle. Where the halls and throne room screamed Regina—dark, dramatic, deliberate—this room felt lived-in. Practical. Inviting without being precious.

It felt like her.

Emma wasn’t sure if that was intentional or if Regina simply wanted her comfortable enough not to try escaping. Either way, it unsettled her more than chains would have.

Still… she supposed there were perks. No rent. No utilities. No overdue bills waiting to ambush her. Probably because none of those things existed here.

She exhaled slowly.

This was going to take some getting used to.

She took her time rummaging through the room, inventorying the unfamiliar comfort: a toothbrush, a hairbrush, clothes laid out as if someone had anticipated her taste rather than imposed their own.

She chose an outfit that helped her blend in without feeling like she was wearing a costume—a blue scaled vest with a high collar and black seams, belted over an ivory tunic, paired with sensible trousers. She tied her hair back, leaving a few loose strands to frame her face.

In the mirror, she turned once, then twice. A small smile tugged at her lips.

“At least I look good,” she muttered.

Feeling as ready as she was going to get, Emma cracked open the heavy wooden door.

Two guards stood at attention.

“The Queen requests your presence for breakfast,” one of them said.

Emma rolled her eyes, already bracing herself. “She does, does she?”

They said nothing more as they escorted her to the dining room. The table stretched long and imposing, its length deliberately excessive. Regina sat at one end, knife in one hand, fork in the other, taking neat, unhurried bites of her breakfast as if this were any ordinary morning.

A single place had been set at the opposite end—for Emma.

She took the seat but didn’t touch the food, her posture guarded. The silence pressed in.

Regina’s brown eyes lifted, meeting Emma’s blue across the expanse of polished wood. For a moment, neither of them looked away.

The space between them felt deliberate.

“Your meal isn’t poisoned,” Regina said coolly, arching a brow as she assessed the blonde. “If that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Emma let out a soft huff of laughter. “If you wanted me dead, I get the feeling you wouldn’t bother with breakfast.” She picked up her utensils, nudging the food around her plate more out of habit than hunger. “So what am I supposed to be doing while this prophecy takes its sweet time not fulfilling itself?”

Regina set her cutlery aside, expression sharpening. “We’ll begin with training. I don’t trust anyone not to try to force the prophecy into motion.” Her gaze held Emma’s. “You’ll need to learn how to protect yourself.”

Emma’s mouth curved slightly. “You say that like I don’t already know how.” She tilted her head. “You don’t know anything about the world I just came from, do you?”

Regina’s lips twitched. “Then you can prove it to me.” A beat. “And if you do, perhaps we won’t have to concern ourselves with further training.”

She rose from her chair without another word.

“Finish eating,” she said, already turning away. “You’ll need the energy.”

Emma didn’t bother responding. 

—

Stone spread out beneath Emma’s boots as the courtyard came into view.

It was wide and functional—high walls, worn training dummies, weapons racked neatly along one side. Nothing decorative. This was a working space.

Regina stood off to the side, arms folded, watching.

A man stepped forward instead. Older, solid, wearing guard armor marked with rank. He gave Emma a brief nod.

“Captain Hale,” he said. “I’ll be training you.”

Emma glanced past him at Regina. “You delegating?”

Regina didn’t move. “Show me what you can do.”

Hale motioned toward a rack. “Take a staff. Defensive drills first.”

Emma grabbed one and rolled it in her hands. It felt fine. Familiar enough. She squared her stance without thinking.

Hale noticed. “You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah,” Emma said. “Just not in castles.”

He attacked without warning.

Emma blocked on instinct, the impact rattling her arms. She adjusted, countered, stepped back, then forward again. It wasn’t elegant, but it worked. Years of surviving ugly situations kicked in fast.

Across the courtyard, Regina watched closely.

Emma shoved Hale back harder than she meant to. The staff shuddered in her grip, a brief flicker of light flaring beneath her hands—subtle enough to go unnoticed by most.

She felt it then. A pull in her chest. A pressure behind her ribs.

Hale stared at the staff. “Did you feel that?”

Regina straightened.

“No,” Regina said calmly. “But I did.”

She stepped forward.

“That will be all, Captain.”

Captain Hale gave a final nod and bowed before leaving the courtyard.

Regina circled Emma, eyes sharp, sleeves rolled up. “Again,” she commanded.

Emma froze, brow furrowed.

“Again,” Regina repeated, her voice harder this time, leaving no room for argument. She stepped closer, letting the air hum with magic. “And don’t hold back. Show me what you’re really capable of.”

Reluctantly, Emma swung the staff at her, testing the waters. Regina easily blocked it with a flick of her magic, the force barely rippling. She got nothing from Emma.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Regina’s laugh rumbled low and taunting, echoing in the courtyard. She pushed a little closer, letting the air thrum around them, pressing Emma to respond.

Emma’s jaw tightened. She hit back harder, forcing herself to push beyond instinct—but still, she was no match for Regina’s magic.

“What is it, Savior? I thought you could protect yourself.” Another pulse of dark purple light shot toward her. Emma raised her hands.” instinctively—and the blow never landed.

She looked up. A ball of grey light hovered before her, countering the dark force, trembling faintly with energy. Regina’s eyes flickered with intrigue.

She made her own dark orb vanish. “There it is.” She’d never seen anything like it—not dark magic, but not quite light either. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” Emma admitted, disbelief lacing her voice as the grey light flickered and vanished, leaving her hands empty.

“Let’s keep this between us, hmm?” Regina crossed her arms, her gaze sharp, mind already spinning with strategy. “If anyone else finds out, the whole castle will know—and we can’t afford that.”

“So… you don’t want me to use it?” Emma asked, brows knitting as she looked down at her hands, still unsure what she’d done—or how.

Regina stared at her for a long beat, utterly unimpressed. “Who on earth said that?” She stepped closer, voice firm. “No. I want to train you to use it.” A pause, deliberate. “But your lessons will be with me. Only me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Once you can control your magic, then—and only then—we’ll bring Captain Hale back for weapons training.”

“Wow,” Emma said dryly. “A probationary period.” She set the staff back where it belonged, then turned, arms folding. “And when you’re busy ruling, brooding, or doing whatever it is Evil Queens do between threats—what am I supposed to be doing?”

Regina stepped closer, close enough that Emma had to tip her chin up to keep eye contact. “You’ll be with me.”

Emma blinked. “That’s… not an answer.”

“It’s the only one that matters,” Regina said coolly. “No one tries to force a prophecy while its key piece is standing at my side. You’re a deterrent.”

Emma snorted. “Great. I’m a walking ‘don’t touch’ sign.”

“If you prefer,” Regina replied, lips curving faintly, “think of it as job security.”

And so, for the rest of the day, Emma stayed at Regina’s side—by choice and by necessity.

But what she witnessed was more than she had expected.

She had thought she knew Regina, but now she saw the full force of the Evil Queen.

Hearts torn from chests in cold efficiency. Executions carried out without hesitation. Strategic battles plotted with ruthless precision. Emma watched it all, every detail etching itself into her mind, and realized the power she was up against—and the part she was now in.

That night, lying in bed, Emma replayed everything in her mind.

In what world would she willingly sacrifice herself for someone like Regina? If she didn’t, then Regina would die—and with her, the kingdom would finally be free of her terror. 

Surely this prophecy only ended one way.

Chapter Text

The next day, the courtyard was too quiet. Emma itched. No guards. No Captain Hale. Just stone, open sky—and Regina.

“Today,” Regina said, already moving, “you don’t hide behind distance.”

Emma stiffened. “Pretty sure distance is the whole point of staying alive.”

A corner of Regina’s mouth curved. “Distance is a crutch.”

Before Emma could argue, Regina lifted her hand. Dark magic flared—not thrown, not violent, just enough to press. It rolled toward Emma like a tide.

Emma reacted instinctively.

Grey light snapped into place, humming between her palms. The force hit and held, magic vibrating through her arms, up her spine. She dug her heels into the stone, breath sharp.

Regina didn’t step back. She stepped closer.

“Control it,” Regina said, voice calm, eyes locked on hers. “You’re pushing against it. That’s why it’s shaking.”

The grey light steadied, smoothing into something dense and controlled. Regina’s eyes flickered—not surprise, not fear—but interest. Real, dangerous interest.

“There,” Regina said softly. “You feel it, don’t you?”

Emma swallowed. She did. The magic wasn’t fighting her anymore. It was listening.

“Again,” Regina said.

Emma reset her stance, feet apart, shoulders squared. She lifted her hands, drawing the grey magic up the way Regina had shown her—slow, contained, deliberate.

It wavered.

Regina sighed, sharp and impatient, closing the space between them. “Your balance is off.”

“I’m standing fine,” Emma muttered.

“You’re bracing,” Regina corrected, tapping her wrist gently, nudging it lower. “You’re treating it like a shield. It isn’t one.”

Emma stiffened but didn’t pull away. “You didn’t say that part.”

“I’m saying it now.” Regina stepped around her, close enough that Emma had to turn slightly to keep her in view. “Relax your shoulders.”

“I am relaxed.”

Regina huffed softly. “No. You’re just stubborn.” She placed a hand between Emma’s shoulder blades—firm, precise, instructional.

“Straighten. If your body’s tense, your magic will be too.”

Emma inhaled, adjusted. The grey light steadied, dimming into something smoother, quieter.

“There,” Regina said. “Better.”

She didn’t move her hand immediately. Emma told herself it was because Regina was measuring, assessing, searching for flaws. That was all.

She’d seen what Regina was capable of. Wariness was all she owed her.

And yet, the magic didn’t resist.

Finally, Regina stepped back, satisfaction sharpening her expression. “Good. We’ll stop there.”

Emma exhaled, realizing she’d been holding her breath.

“Was that… training?”

Regina arched a brow. “Did you learn something?”

Emma hesitated. “Yeah.”

“Then it was training,” Regina said, already turning away. “Tomorrow, we refine it.”

She didn’t look back. Which was good—Emma wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was in that face. But she followed anyway.

—

Later, Emma watched another execution—then another heart crushed without hesitation. Regina’s fingers tightened, and the organ crumbled to ash as the victim screamed.

Emma couldn’t stay. Not for this.

She turned and walked, directionless—just away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Regina’s voice cut through the chamber, sharper than before. Not Regina. The Queen.

Emma didn’t stop. “Getting some air,” she said flatly.

Regina studied her. Then—unexpectedly—she smiled. “Fine. Go.”

Emma blinked. “That’s it?”

“You won’t get far,” Regina said, already heading back to the throne. “The forest answers to me as much as this castle. You’ll be watched.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “And if you’re not back by nightfall…” Her tone was calm, certain. “I’ll come get you myself.”

Emma swallowed, then moved again. Boots echoed through stone halls, past arched doorways and guards who didn’t stop her. No one did.

—

The forest met her like a held breath released. The air was cooler, cleaner than the castle. It felt alive, as though the trees were breathing with her, steadying something that had been knocked off balance. Maybe it was just fresh air. Maybe the world was quietly correcting itself.

Emma sank at the base of a tree, hands over her face. The screams replayed behind her eyes. Regina’s calm, unmoved expression. The sound of a heart crumbling to dust. She’d been forced to watch. To do nothing.

How could she live with that? How could she justify it?

If the prophecy was real… shouldn’t she be trying to stop it? Stop Regina? Stop more deaths?

A footstep snapped her out of it.

Emma was on her feet instantly, senses sharp. An old woman leaned on a crooked staff a few paces away. Wrinkled, yes, but luminous, polished by time to something truer.

The woman chuckled softly. “Easy, dear.” She brushed her fingers across her forehead. A third eye blinked open—and vanished.

“I’m a seer,” she said mildly. “Your parents sent me with a message.”

Emma scoffed. “Why would I want anything from them?”

“I won’t deliver it. Their message is not the one you need to hear.” the woman replied, lips curling. “But there is something you need to know. About the prophecy.”

Emma folded her arms. “How do I know this isn’t just whatever speech they wanted you to give me?”

The seer’s gaze sharpened, certain, not unkind.

“Your path does not end where you think it does. What undoes the Queen will not be blade, nor blood. You will stand where you least want to stand—and if you choose yourself…” She let the words settle. “…everything else will follow.”

And just like that, she vanished, leaving Emma blinking in stunned confusion.

Just like the vision Regina had received. She didn’t hear love. She heard survival. Refusal. Not blade, not blood—maybe magic, power, control. And the last thing Emma ever expected? That this could end with Regina’s heart softening.

Chapter Text

Regina paced the length of her chambers, the familiar rhythm doing nothing to quiet the restless edge under her skin. Dinner approached. Emma still hadn’t returned.

That shouldn’t matter.

Emma had nowhere else to go. Regina was the only thing standing between her and a kingdom that would happily see her dead. No other refuge. No other protection. No other force keeping the mob at bay.

So of course she would come back.

Unless—

Regina’s jaw tightened.

Unless Emma had seen enough. Enough executions. Enough cruelty. Enough proof of exactly what kind of queen ruled this kingdom—and decided she wanted no part of it.

Why should that trouble her?

Emma deserved the truth. Regina was ruthless. Calculated. A ruler who balanced every wrong done to her with interest, no matter the cost. She always had been. Mercy was a luxury she’d buried long ago.

So why did the thought of Emma turning away lodge so uncomfortably in her chest?

Regina stopped short, exhaling through her nose. Annoying.

Still… perhaps there was room for restraint. Not mercy—never that—but strategy. If tempering her cruelty kept Emma close, kept the prophecy stalled, kept her crown secure—

Well.

That would be a sacrifice worth making.

—

She finally spotted Emma at dinner.

Relief hit first—sharp, unwanted—followed immediately by irritation. Regina told herself it was annoyance at having wasted even a moment of thought on her.

Emma looked fine. Unbothered. As if she hadn’t been gone long enough to unsettle anything at all.

That realization stung more than it should have. As though Emma had left on purpose. As though she’d wanted Regina to wonder. To wait.

Regina straightened, smoothing her expression into cool indifference.

If that had been Emma’s goal—

She’d succeeded.

Regina finished cutting her food before looking up. Then, calmly, she lifted her gaze.

“So,” she said. “You came back.”

Emma met her eyes without flinching. “Did you expect me not to?”

A flicker of interest crossed Regina’s face. “Perhaps. Most don’t, once they’ve seen how I rule.” Her tone remained detached. “I wouldn’t fault you for feeling… squeamish.”

Emma’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. Well.” Her voice dropped, quiet but edged. “The forest’s a lot quieter than a throne room full of screams.”

She looked away then, pushing her food around her plate like she’d lost her appetite.

Something tugged at Regina—an unwelcome flicker of guilt she refused to look at. She crushed it, letting irritation take its place. This was restraint, compared to what she’d ordered in the past. If Emma couldn’t stomach it, that wasn’t Regina’s problem.

The rest of dinner passed in silence.

When it ended, they rose without ceremony and went their separate ways, the space between them heavier than anything left unsaid.

—

Morning found them back in the courtyard.

Emma moved before Regina had fully settled into her stance.

Grey light flared around her hands—sharp, immediate. No warning. No buildup.

Regina barely raised a shield before the force slammed into her, boots scraping against stone as she absorbed the blow.

“Again,” she ordered, already adjusting.

Emma didn’t hesitate.

The magic came harder this time—uneven, raw, cracking against Regina’s defenses in surging bursts. She didn’t explain. She didn’t slow. She just pressed, each strike landing closer than the last.

“You’re rushing,” Regina snapped.

Emma didn’t respond.

Another flare—then a falter.

Regina stepped in, closing the distance, fingers snapping around Emma’s wrist mid-swing. The grey light stuttered—and instead of exploding, folded inward, drawn tight.

Both of them froze.

The power didn’t vanish. It settled. Thrumming low and contained, as if it recognized the boundary Regina had set.

Regina’s breath caught.

That was new.

She didn’t release Emma right away. “You’re not aiming,” she said quietly. “You’re throwing.”

“It worked,” Emma shot back, jaw tight.

Regina let go, stepping back—but her eyes stayed on Emma’s hand, where the last trace of grey light lingered. Waiting.

“No,” Regina said. “It listened.”

Emma flexed her fingers. “It’s magic. It does what it’s told.”

Regina’s mouth curved, sharp and unreadable. “Magic doesn’t do anything without reason.”

She turned away first, as if proximity were the real danger. “Again. And this time—control it.”

Emma lifted her hands.

The power answered immediately.

Not to anger.

To direction.

Regina stopped directly in front of her. Too close. “Hold it there.”

The magic wavered.

“Steady.”

It obeyed.

Emma stiffened. “I didn’t—”

“I know,” Regina cut in. “That’s the point.”

She circled slowly. “Don’t look at your hands. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Emma did.

The magic followed her gaze, tightening—cleaner. Focused.

“Good,” Regina said. “Now breathe.”

Emma exhaled. The light smoothed.

“Shift it left.”

It shifted.

Emma frowned. “I didn’t tell it to—”

“No,” Regina said softly. “I did.”

Silence stretched, thick and charged.

Emma lowered her hands. “So it just… listens to you?”

Regina arched her brow. “It responds to authority.”

It was an absolute lie. Because the truth was that she didn’t know the answer. 

She stepped back. The grey light dispersed instantly, like it had been waiting for permission.

“We’re done for today,” Regina said, turning away.

Emma watched her go, chest tight, fingers still humming.

Behind her, Regina’s jaw clenched.

Because authority had nothing to do with it.

—

That night, Regina lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

She’d never known of anyone who was able to influence another person’s magic.

Why Emma?

With the thoughts buzzing through her brain, sleep eventually claimed her—but rest did not.

Emma stood close—far too close. Close enough to be a mistake.

Their magic no longer clashed or spiraled. It drew inward, quiet and deliberate, as if it had made a choice without consulting either of them.

Regina felt it immediately.

The mask slipped. The posture. The Queen.

For a breath—just one—she wasn’t shaping herself into something sharp enough to survive being seen.

The last time she’d felt that exposed had been with—

Daniel.

The dream broke open.

Cora’s shadow swallowed the space. Snow’s wide, trusting eyes. The sickening sound as a heart was crushed in a fist. Regina dropped to her knees, the grief vicious and airless, pressing until her chest burned.

She didn’t scream.

She never did.

Emma was there.

She knelt with her—not crowding, not touching—close enough that Regina could feel her warmth like a steady presence against the cold. Emma didn’t rush. Didn’t try to fix what couldn’t be fixed.

She opened her magic.

It reached Regina like an offering—unarmored, unafraid.

Regina’s magic answered without permission.

Dark met light and didn’t explode. It settled, threading through the old breaks Regina had learned to carry, reinforcing instead of widening them.

Regina sucked in a breath.

That was wrong.

That was dangerous.

This wasn’t power. This was something far worse—support. Emma wasn’t taking the grief away. She was sharing it, bearing part of the weight Regina had never set down.

Regina should have recoiled. Snow White’s daughter. The prophecy. The enemy.

But the grief was heavy.

And Emma didn’t flinch.

Emma’s fingers closed around Regina’s wrist—steady, grounding—and the pressure in Regina’s chest eased just enough for her to breathe again. Emma helped her stand.

There was no space between them now.

Too close. Intimate in a way that had nothing to do with bodies and everything to do with being known.

Regina lifted her head.

Emma was already looking at her mouth.

This was wrong. This was a mistake. This was exactly how everything had been taken from her before.

And still—Regina leaned in.

The kiss was brief at first, restrained, as if Regina were testing whether it would burn. It didn’t. It anchored. Warmth spread through her chest, unwinding something tight and aching she hadn’t realized she’d been holding for years.

She hated that.

Hated that it steadied her.

Hated that when Emma deepened the kiss—slow, deliberate—Regina followed without hesitation, fingers curling into Emma’s jacket as the magic wrapped around them, holding instead of consuming.

For one stolen moment, the grief loosened.

For one unforgivable moment, Regina let herself believe she didn’t have to carry it alone.

And that—more than the prophecy, more than the magic—terrified her.

Regina woke with a gasp, bolting upright, hand pressed to her chest.

The question still lingered.

Why Emma?

In another room, Emma woke with a sharp inhale, heat still clinging to her lips, the phantom weight of Regina’s presence pressed into her senses.

She swallowed, staring into the dark.

That wasn’t just my dream… was it?

Chapter Text

After that dream, both Emma and Regina did what they did best: shoved it down as far as it would go, pretending it didn’t cross their minds—at least not too often.

Their training was going well, and Emma was finally gaining control of her magic. Not perfect—but steady. The light rested in her hands, contained and responsive, doing exactly what she asked of it.

Regina, unfortunately, had other ideas.

She paced slowly in front of her, eyes tracking the glow like it belonged to her. Without lifting a hand, without even breaking stride, the magic shifted. It thinned. Curled. Bent sideways as if answering a different command.

Emma felt it immediately. “Hey—” She tightened her focus, pulling the light back into shape. “Stop doing that.”

Regina’s lips curved, pleased. “I’m not touching it.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not meddling.”

Another step closer. The light flared, sparks snapping at Emma’s wrists.

Emma hissed and corrected, jaw set. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

Regina stopped directly in front of her, close enough that Emma had to tip her chin up to meet her gaze. “On the contrary,” she said mildly. “I’m seeing whether you can hold your ground when someone tries to take control.”

The magic pulsed—drawn toward Regina like it recognized her.

Emma’s patience snapped. “It’s not supposed to listen to you.”

Regina leaned in just slightly, voice dropping. “And yet.”

She reached out—not to the magic, but to Emma’s wrist—adjusting her grip with deliberate slowness. The contact sent a jolt through the light, which snapped sharply into Regina’s preferred shape before Emma could stop it.

Their hands lingered together.

Emma’s breath stuttered. “You’re enjoying this.”

Regina’s smile was all teeth and satisfaction. “Immensely.”

But this wasn’t just teasing. She was testing—pushing Emma, watching how far she could go without breaking control. Magic this…pliant, this responsive, was unusual. She’d never encountered anyone whose power bent to anyone else like this, it felt like it recognized her. And though she didn’t let it show, that realization set her mind racing with possibilities.

Why Emma? Could anyone else do this? Was it dangerous—or an opportunity? Regina’s mind ticked through the possibilities, imagining all the ways she could shape, guide, and—most intriguingly—protect this power for her own purposes.

For now, she’d see just how much the blonde could handle—and how much the magic would reveal about them both.

—

After a few months, Regina decided it was time to bring Captain Hale back for weapons training. Not that Emma truly needed it—her magic was more than enough—but physical skills would be the first line of defense. Magic would remain her last resort, a trump card for anyone foolish enough to try to manipulate the prophecy.

Lately, Regina almost seemed… merciful. With Emma at her side, she kept the heart-crushing punishments to a minimum. Emma noticed. Regina could have carried on as usual when Emma wasn’t around, but she didn’t. Truth was, there were barely any moments when the blonde wasn’t at her side—and Emma knew first-hand that those screams could be heard throughout the entire castle.

But Regina never let the world forget who she was—or what she was capable of. She wouldn’t allow it.

But someone somewhere was about to mistake that for weakness.

—

The carriage rolled out of the castle gates, guards flanking it on all sides. Regina sat within, already focused on what lay ahead. She needed to find the Harkness Grimoire—said to belong to a witch unbound by time, a woman who had quite literally fled from death and left her grimoire behind in the process.

If the stories were true, it might hold the answers Regina needed. Why Emma’s magic responded to her. Why it obeyed. And whether anyone else could do the same—without her having to test that theory firsthand.

The search would require a brief excursion beyond the castle walls. Regina had no intention of being careless. She would take Emma with her, and she would take no chances. When they drew close enough to their destination, they would travel the rest of the way in disguise.

But before the carriage ever reached its destination—

the ambush came.

Steel flashed. Arrows hissed through the air. Warriors poured from the treeline—too many, too coordinated, weapons gleaming with intent.

Regina felt it before she saw it. The wrong kind of quiet. The tension in the magic.

She stepped forward as the first arrow flew.

With a single, precise motion, Regina lifted her hand. The arrow froze midair, trembling—then shattered into ash.

The rest followed. Arrows suspended like insects in amber. Regina’s fingers curled. They reversed course, burying themselves cleanly back into the attackers. Not wild. Not wasteful. Exact.

The ground buckled beneath the remaining warriors. Roots tore free, coiling around limbs, snapping bones, dragging bodies to their knees. Screams tore through the clearing. Regina didn’t flinch.

“This,” she said calmly, stepping down from the carriage as if arriving at a planned stop, “is what happens when you mistake my absence for weakness.”

A blade swung toward her. She didn’t turn. The metal softened, liquefied, dripping uselessly to the forest floor. The man holding it collapsed, clutching his hand and screaming.

Regina surveyed the wreckage, dark magic humming just beneath her skin—contained, leashed, patient.

“Leave,” she commanded.

Most of them did.

One hesitated.

Regina’s gaze snapped to him. The air thickened, pressure crushing in from all sides. His heart stuttered—

then stopped.

Regina released the spell and turned back toward the carriage, already done.

The guards stared. No one spoke. No one moved.

Regina adjusted her gloves. “We’re delayed,” she said coolly. “Proceed.”

And Emma, terrified, watching from inside the carriage, understood something vital:

This wasn’t just rage.

This was restraint.

Arriving at their destination, Regina ordered the carriage to halt. She stepped down first, then immediately turned back, extending a hand toward Emma.

The gesture felt wrong. Deliberate. Entirely unlike her.

Emma hesitated.

Regina lifted a brow, already unimpressed. “Are you coming?” she said briskly. “The terrain’s uneven, and I’m not interested in slowing the search because you twisted an ankle.”

Her hand remained outstretched—firm, practical, offering no room for interpretation.

The blonde took her hand tentatively, watching her step carefully as she stepped down.

Regina cast a quick glance over the forest, ensuring no prying eyes, then cloaked the guards and carriage with her magic. A cloud of purple enveloped her and Emma, and when it cleared, they were dressed in standard village garb.

Muted tones, skirts puffy but not overdone, and corsets snug enough to shape the waist. Regina’s own neckline, softened and modest for the nearby village, still carried the poise and grace that made her unmistakably herself. She looked… wholesome, approachable, almost gentle—a stark contrast to the commanding Queen Emma had always known.

Emma glanced down at her own slightly lower-cut neckline, feeling more like a barmaid than the wholesome village girl beside her. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Regina arched a sharp brow. “Something wrong?”

In an instant, the softness vanished. Her posture straightened, the poise returned—Regina was suddenly very much the Queen Emma had always known.

“No, nothing wrong. Just realizing I missed the memo on modesty,” Emma said, hands on her hips.

Regina’s lips twitched, a smirk threatening to break free. “Misdirection,” she said evenly. “If the attention is on you, no one will look too closely at the evil queen traveling beside you.” At least, that was the story she told herself—and she intended to stick to it.

The path seemed to stretch on endlessly, until a cave yawned before them.

“This is it,” Regina said, a dark spark in her eyes. She conjured a torch, and Emma instinctively fell into step at her side.

The walls of the cave dripped with humidity, Emma binding a lantern at her side as their only light. Somewhere in the distance you could hear water dripping.

They weren’t sure how far they walked, but eventually they reached a podium surrounded by a small body of water that held a book, glowstone circling it like a halo. Regina’s gaze skimmed the floor, quick and precise, but not thorough enough. She stepped forward—and Emma’s sharp eyes caught it: a slightly misaligned stone under the Queen’s foot.

Before she could warn her properly, a trap triggered. Rocks began to tumble from above them.

“Watch out!” Emma shouted, lunging forward instinctively. She threw her magic up, forming a bubble, a shimmering shield as jagged stones rained down around them.

Regina’s breath hitched, irritation flashing across her face—but then her hand pressed against Emma’s shoulder. Their magics intertwined, the shield strengthening until it pulsed and thrummed, almost alive, responding to both of them at once.

Emma’s heart slammed against her ribs. She hadn’t meant to put herself in danger—but being that close to Regina had made her magic surge, sharper and faster than she could think. For one taut heartbeat, the world narrowed to just them, their power weaving together like it recognized the space it had been missing.

Then the rocks clattered harmlessly to the floor.

Regina spun on her, fury blazing. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was low, rough, edged like a blade. “Throwing yourself into danger like that plays directly into the prophecy.”

“I—I didn’t think, I just—”

“No. Of course you didn’t.” Regina stepped closer, crowding her space, eyes dark. “You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

Heat flared in Emma’s chest—anger, not fear. “If those rocks would’ve hit you, they would’ve hit me too,” she shot back, folding her arms and stepping closer instead of away. “I wasn’t out of the line of fire.”

A beat.

“I protected both of us,” she added. “You’re welcome.”

Their eyes caught.

They froze.

Too close. Close enough that the air between them felt charged, humming like a live wire. Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed.

Regina broke first, wrenching her gaze away with a sharp exhale. She stepped into the pool of water, reaching for the grimoire on the podium.

The book didn’t budge.

“Fuck,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face. Her eyes snapped to the stone beneath the book—symbols carved deep, forming a perfect circle. “Runes.”

Emma frowned. “And that’s bad because…?”

Regina let out a short, bitter laugh. “You really have no knowledge of what you’re wielding, do you?” She crouched, fingers tracing the markings without touching them. “Only the witch who cast the runes can use magic inside the circle. Agatha bound the book to this spot.”

Emma studied the carvings. “What if we break one? Or add another?”

Regina shook her head. “They’re cut too deep. And adding a rune risks reinforcing the spell.”

A beat.

Then, hesitantly, Emma said, “What if we try… together?”

Regina stilled.

She’d never worked magic like that. Not truly. Not the way it happened with Emma—where the power didn’t just overlap but merged, becoming something singular and stronger.

She rolled her eyes, masking the unease. “Fine,” she said tightly. “It’s not like we have other options.”

Emma went first. Grey magic surged toward the book—only to be swallowed whole by the rune circle.

Regina followed, dark purple power lashing out—

Absorbed.

Nothing.

Frustration flared sharp and hot. Then, without thinking, Regina reached out and placed her hand on Emma’s shoulder like she had before.

The shift was immediate.

Their magic reacted like it had been waiting—folding together, dark and light threading into one current. The combined force pressed against the rune circle, straining.

Slowly.

Barely.

But unmistakably—

The magic pushed through.

Regina sucked in a breath, eyes fixed on the book.

It wasn’t much.

But it was working.

Regina reached out, slower this time, and laid her hand over Emma’s. Careful. Intentional.

The magic surged—stronger, steadier—pushing deeper into the barrier, forcing it to give, but not quite enough.

Regina’s hand slid from Emma’s shoulder to her waist, drawing them hip to hip.

The shift was immediate.

Their magic swelled again, no longer straining but pressing, until the runes finally fractured under the force. The barrier gave way, and the grimoire tore itself free, drawn toward them by a power that clearly outweighed its bindings.

Their power wasn’t only stronger together; it sharpened with contact.

Regina thought of the dream and just as quickly shoved it aside, the Harkness Grimoire now heavy in her hands.

Heavier still was the newfound knowledge settling in her chest, unwanted and impossible to ignore.

Chapter Text

Regina spent all night reading the grimoire, Agatha Harkness’s exploits filling the pages—bold, cunning, unstoppable. She thought Agatha had no surprises left in this book as she neared the end. 

Then she stopped.

“In the rarest of pairings, a true twin flame bond can allow one to influence the other’s magic. Such a bond cannot be forced, and no outsider may claim it—the bound guard each other’s power, whether they choose to or not.”

Regina’s heart skipped. She read it again. Slowly. Every word pressed into place.

Emma. Her magic. Her control.

This wasn’t just some ordinary bond. This was a twin flame bond. One strong enough to bend even the Queen’s magic.

Then it hit her, reading it again.That meant Emma could control Regina’s magic.

No. Emma could never know. Regina refused to accept it. No one would ever have that kind of control over her.

She wasn’t meant for that kind of emotional connection. She had already given all of herself—her mother, Snow, Daniel, even her father—though not dead, the relationship had been ruined by Cora—and it had all been taken away. That loss had forged her. Not just physically, emotionally—everything had been stripped from her, and now she refused to give any piece of herself.

Every relationship she’d ever had had been strained, fragile, a test she inevitably failed.

And yet… being around Emma felt effortless. Too effortless. Dangerous. Infuriating.

She had thrown herself in front of Regina to protect her that day. Most people would have let her face the consequences of her own actions.

But Emma hadn’t.

And that made it worse. Because it wasn’t just instinct—it meant Emma cared.

Regina’s jaw tightened, irritation—and something darker, sharper—threading through her chest. She should be furious, she told herself. And yet… she couldn’t look away from the true feeling.

Not with the idea already planted.

Twin Flame.

Ridiculous. To think she had one… and that it was the daughter of the Charmings.

The seer’s words echoed in her mind—

“You will not be asked to abandon what you love. Only to stop losing yourself within it. What meets you there will endure.”

How did that fit with this… with Emma? Regina only knew one thing: she needed answers.

And the only person she knew that could give them to her, would absolutely leverage this against her. 

—

The next morning Emma showed up to the courtyard alone.

That, at least, was familiar.

Regina arrived several minutes later, expression already closed off, spine straight, every inch the Queen. No warmth. No teasing.

“Today,” Regina said, “we are correcting a mistake.”

Emma frowned. “Mistake?”

Regina ignored that. She stepped closer, and Emma felt it immediately—the slide of pressure into her magic, precise and deliberate. The grey light sparked to life in her hands without being asked.

Emma’s shoulders tensed. “You said you were done hijacking my magic.”

“I said nothing of the sort,” Regina snapped.

The light bent sharply sideways. Emma sucked in a breath and fought it back into shape. “Clearly.” Her tone was dry.

Regina’s jaw clenched. “You threw yourself in front of falling stone.”

“So?”

“So,” Regina cut in, “you didn’t hesitate. You didn’t calculate. You didn’t think.” She stepped closer again, voice low and dangerous. “You reacted.”

The magic surged toward her, traitorous and eager.

Emma steadied it, frustration flashing. “That’s called instinct.”

“That’s called attachment,” Regina said, harsher than necessary.

She pushed—harder than she ever had before. The magic twisted, pulling toward Regina’s will like it belonged there. Emma staggered, barely catching it in time.

“Hey!” Emma barked. “That’s not fair.”

Regina laughed once, sharp and humorless. “No. It isn’t.”

She circled Emma, every step tightening the invisible thread between them. “Do you know what happens when magic binds that tightly?” Regina demanded. “When it listens to someone else before it listens to you?”

Emma swallowed. “You tell me.”

“It gets you killed,” Regina said flatly. “Because next time, it won’t be me messing with your magic.”

The words landed heavier than any spell.

Emma held her ground anyway. “Then teach me how to keep people from doing that.”

Regina stopped in front of her, close enough that the air felt charged. Her control faltered for half a heartbeat—just enough for the magic to spike.

Her voice dropped. “I can’t.”

Emma blinked. “What?”

Regina turned away sharply, the magic snapping free as she did. “Focus,” she snapped. “Or leave.”

How was Emma supposed to focus after that?

She tried anyway.

She forced the magic down into something steady, controlled—less reactive than before. Not perfect, but better. Better than Regina seemed to expect.

A few minutes passed. Regina watched her coolly, expression unreadable.

“That’s enough for today,” she said at last, already walking away.

Emma let the light fade from her hands, shoulders sagging as Regina disappeared from sight.

She never noticed the figure in the bushes.

Almost as if the Queen had summoned him simply by thinking his name the night before, Rumplestiltskin stepped into the open. 

“I could teach you how to stop Regina from controlling your magic,” he said pleasantly.

Emma nearly leapt out of her skin. Grey fire flared in her palms, heat snapping through the air. “Stay back,” she warned.

Rumple’s laugh chimed, delighted. “Oh, you are fiery.” He kept smiling as he drifted closer anyway. “And very interesting.”

The light in Emma’s hands wavered.

“She’s keeping something from you,” he went on, voice tipping into a sing-song lilt. “Something rather important.”

Emma swallowed, eyes locked on him. Regina kept secrets from everyone—but this felt different. Personal. “Like what?”

Rumple’s gaze sharpened. He lifted a hand, casually, testing—pressing at the edge of Emma’s magic the way Regina had.

Nothing happened.

His smile thinned.

“No one,” he said quietly, “has that kind of influence over another’s magic.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “What are you saying?”

Rumple glanced around, expression incredulous—as if the answer were obvious. “I’m saying she shouldn’t be able to do what she’s doing.”

Emma exhaled slowly, rolling her eyes. “Okay,” she said flatly. “Then explain why she can.”

Rumplestiltskin paced a short circle, hands steepled—not quite prayerful, more calculating. “I have theories, Dearie,” he said lightly. “And a very strong suspicion about where the answers live.” A smirk tugged at his mouth.

Emma let the fire in her hands fade and folded her arms. “And where would that be?” She raised a brow, her posture broadcasting distrust even as she listened.

Rumple stopped. His bright green—almost yellow—eyes locked onto hers. “The Harkness Grimoire,” he said, voice dropping, pleased.

Emma’s eyes widened just a fraction. It was enough.

“Agatha Harkness’ Grimoire?” she echoed before she could stop herself.

Rumple’s smile sharpened. “Now that’s interesting,” he murmured, circling her once. “For someone supposedly not of this world, you know your artifacts.”

Emma said nothing.

Rumple gasped softly, delighted. “Oh,” he breathed. “She already has it, doesn’t she?”

Silence.

He laughed, practically vibrating with it. “Oh, this is delicious.” He clapped his hands together. “Consider this a gift, Dearie. Find it. Read it. Then come back to me.”

His grin turned knowing. “We’ll have so much to discuss.”

Chapter Text

It was well past midnight, and Emma was wide awake.

She’d tried lying still. Tried counting breaths. Tried telling herself she could wait until morning.

She couldn’t.

If she was going to look at the grimoire, it had to be now—before doubt talked her out of it. The only question was where Regina kept it. The library seemed the safest bet. If Regina noticed movement anywhere else in the castle, that would be harder to explain.

Two guards stood outside the library doors.

Emma hesitated only a moment before lifting her hand. A soft pulse of grey light rolled outward. The guards slumped gently, still upright, breathing slow and even.

“Heh,” Emma murmured. “Piece of cake.”

The doors opened silently.

The library swallowed her whole.

Shelves stretched impossibly high, ladders disappearing into shadow. Books crowded every surface, stacked and layered like the castle itself had grown around them. It was… beautiful. 

Emma slowed, suddenly aware of how little she’d ever seen this place.

Why doesn’t Regina come here more?

She walked deeper, farther than she expected—long enough that her sense of direction started to blur—until the air changed. The hum of magic thickened, subtle but unmistakable.

There.

A wrought-iron gate sealed off a smaller section of the library, the lock glowing faintly, warded and waiting. It looked ancient. Defensive. Like it wanted to be left alone.

Emma swallowed and reached out.

The lock clicked open instantly.

She stared at it.

“…What?”

No resistance. No flare of magic. No alarm. Just open—like it had been waiting for her.

Her unease sharpened as she stepped inside.

Books hovered above stone pedestals, suspended in careful balance, pages occasionally shifting on their own as if breathing. This wasn’t a collection. It was a vault.

And then she saw it.

The Harkness Grimoire.

Her pulse thudded in her ears as she approached. She braced herself before touching it—half-expecting something to lash out, to burn, to stop her.

Nothing did.

Emma let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

She carried the book to a nearby table, sat, and opened it.

The pages turned easily beneath her fingers.

Too easily.

Emma read until she nearly fell asleep on the book, dawn inching closer. When she reached the end, she closed the grimoire carefully—almost reverently—and returned it to its pedestal. The warded gate sealed itself behind her without protest, the lock glowing briefly before going dark.

She made it back to her room unseen.

By the time she collapsed onto the bed, her eyes burned and her limbs felt heavy. Sleep claimed her instantly—and didn’t let go.

—

Cold slammed into her.

Emma gasped, bolting upright as water soaked her hair, her clothes, the sheets. “What the actual fuck?”

She scrubbed at her eyes and froze.

Regina stood a few feet away, perfectly dry, arms crossed, that infuriating curl tugging at her lips.

“Seems a bucket of water works just as well as true love’s kiss,” she said, voice light but eyes sharp. “Too bad it couldn’t have saved your mother.”

With a snap, the bucket hovering above Emma’s head vanished, water and all. Regina’s smirk deepened, watching Emma’s reaction like she’d scored some private victory.

Emma’s heart pounded. Regina—in her room—making jokes about kissing her awake? It was far too early to process what that even implied.

And then the Grimoire flashed in her mind. If their bond was real… if she and Regina were truly connected…. Maybe she could do something to test it. But what, exactly?

“You didn’t show up for training with Captain Hale this morning,” Regina said, stepping a little closer, tone casual but eyebrows raised. “Funny—I didn’t realize you were related to Sleeping Beauty as well.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed, her hands twitching slightly at her sides. “You really do have all the jokes this morning, don’t you?” she muttered, voice tight, trying to sound annoyed but failing.

She summoned her magic, drying herself instantly. Regina conjured another bucket of water and willed it to tip—but it hovered, stubborn, refusing to spill. She pressed harder, tendrils of dark magic twisting toward the bucket, but it didn’t budge.

Emma’s lips curved into a sly smirk. With just a thought, she tugged lightly at the flow of Regina’s magic, nudging it away from the bucket’s pivot point, holding it steady. A flicker of panic ran across the Queen’s face as she realized her control wasn’t absolute.

Stepping closer, arms folded, Emma felt a spark of heat from her magic brushing against Regina’s, almost like a tease. “Aww, where’d those jokes go? I was starting to enjoy them,” she murmured, letting her influence linger just long enough to frustrate without harming.

Regina’s jaw tightened, dark brown eyes narrowing, a storm brewing behind the cool mask of her face. For the first time, she could feel her own magic bending—not to her will, but to Emma’s.

And Emma… loved every second of it.

Regina’s jaw tensed, eyes narrowing as a flicker of magic slipped from her grasp. She could feel it—Emma was holding it, steady and deliberate, like it belonged to her.

And worse… Regina could feel herself letting her.

Unacceptable.

Distraction. That’s what she needed.

Just enough time to regain control.

She stepped in, slow and measured, until they were close. Her gaze dipped, deliberate, lips parting just slightly as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. The faint scar above it stood out, her reminder that she wasn’t as untouchable as she made people believe.

Emma’s breath hitched, distracted for just a moment.

That was all Regina needed.

But she didn’t pull away. Not yet.

She stayed there, letting the moment hum with tension, letting Emma feel the weight of it—the choice, the power shift, the pull.

Then, without breaking eye contact, she flicked her fingers, then stepped back.

The bucket tipped. Water crashed down, cold and loud.

Emma gasped, drenched again, blinking through dripping lashes.

Regina, still dry, let the corner of her mouth curl. “Better,” she said softly—almost kindly. But her eyes glittered with challenge.

And then she turned, already walking away. “Get dressed. You still have weapons training.”

Chapter Text

Fuck.

Regina’s thoughts snapped viciously inward, fast and unforgiving as she sat on the sidelines while Emma trained with Captain Hale.

Had Emma read the book? Had someone told her? Or—worse—had she simply felt it and decided to test the boundary on instinct alone?

She should have burned the grimoire the moment she’d closed it. Ashes. Nothing left to tempt fate or confirm what Regina already knew.

This changed everything.

If she protected Emma from the prophecy and she stayed at her side—truly at her side—Regina wouldn’t be able to rule the way she intended. Not freely. Not ruthlessly. 

And if Emma learned control—real control—over her own magic?

Then Regina’s would follow.

That was the danger.

Magic lessons had to end. Immediately. No more refinement, no more encouragement, no more giving Emma tools she could turn back on her. Regina hadn’t clawed her way to power only to hand the reins to the Savior.

No one bent the Queen’s magic.

Regina’s first instinct was simple. Clean. Final. Have Emma killed. 

But the thought stalled, catching on something unpleasant.

The prophecy.

It wasn’t vague. It was precise. Emma would sacrifice herself to save the Queen.

If Emma died now—by Regina’s order—would that end it?

Or would it fulfill it?

Regina’s jaw tightened.

If death wasn’t the sacrifice, then what was?

Power? Choice? Control?

Or something far worse—something Regina couldn’t crush with magic or command away.

For the first time, the prophecy didn’t feel like a threat waiting in the distance.

It felt like a trap already closing.

Would distance help? Banish the blonde and she’d be dead within days. Lock her away and the prophecy might still claim it as sacrifice. There was no version of removing Emma that didn’t feel like handing fate exactly what it wanted.

Movement pulled Regina out of her thoughts.

“Talented, isn’t she?” Rumplestiltskin appeared at her side, settling with a sly grin.

Regina arched a brow, lips tight. “Irritatingly so. And you—what do you want?”

“Oh, just a bit of clarity,” Rumple said, voice smooth, almost teasing. He gestured between the blonde swinging the sword at Captain Hale and Regina. “I think I’m beginning to understand your… connection.”

Regina’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. “You don’t know anything.”

Rumple’s laugh was soft, deliberate. “Don’t I? You have… influence over her magic. Not control, but a sway. Fascinating, really.”

“Of course you know about that.” Regina grumbled, her mind racing through every possible consequence of the man having this knowledge.

Rumple’s eyes twinkled, as if he could read every thought she refused to voice. “She might,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “make you far more powerful than you realize.”

Regina’s brow arched at the word power. “I’m listening.”

Rumple leaned in, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “If I were to hazard a guess—” He straightened and began pacing, hands steepled. “You two might be able to… combine your abilities.”

He paused, letting the words hang, then let out a soft, impish laugh, as if daring her to imagine both the power—and the consequences.

Regina tilted her head, thinking back to the cave, the grimoire. “You mean… use our magic as if it were one entity?”

Rumple’s eyes flicked toward her, amusement dancing in the corners of his mouth. “You say that like you haven’t tried it,” he said, the smile laced with disbelief, sharp and knowing.

The Queen folded her arms, jaw tight. “And why on earth would I?” A lie.

“Power like that,” Rumple said, leaning closer, letting the words hang, “is never one-sided. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? That little savior of yours… she can sway your magic too.” He tilted his head, letting the implication sink in. “Imagine combining the two. Imagine the force you’d become—if you dared.”

A jaded laugh slipped from Regina. “In what world does she use her magic for what I want?” Her gaze drifted past the scaly imp and settled on Emma instead.

Rumple’s smile curved, patient and predatory. “Magic is kinetic, dearie. It moves. It responds.” He tilted his head. “You don’t need permission. Only… proximity.” He hummed, darkly pleased with himself.

Regina’s brows knit. Something tugged—low and unwelcome—something a little too close to care. “She’ll know I’m drawing from her,” she said coolly, as though it were an academic concern. “She’s not oblivious.”

“Gone a little soft, have we?” Rumple giggled, the sound thin and needling. “Oh, she’ll know. Certainly. But what precisely are her alternatives? Run? Distance herself? Leave you to face a prophecy alone?” His smile sharpened. “That hardly ends well for the Savior.”

Regina exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. “That might work—if it were one-sided.” She turned back to him, gaze cutting. “But she knows it isn’t.” A beat. “You had something to do with that.”

Rumple’s expression shifted into something artfully innocent. “No,” he said lightly. “I simply ensured she had access to truths you seemed… reluctant to provide.”

His eyes gleamed.

“I don’t create fractures, Your Majesty.”

A pause. 

“I merely show people where they already exist.”

Regina rose slowly, folding her arms across her chest. “In what world does that benefit you?” Her voice lifted just enough to edge with warning, but not enough to carry over the clang of steel striking steel behind them.

Rumple said nothing.

Regina’s brow arched. Understanding flickered across her face. “You needed the answers too.”

A soft, impish giggle. He lifted one hand in surrender. “Guilty as charged.”

“So this was reconnaissance?” Regina began to pace, measured and predatory. “You wanted to ensure I didn’t become too powerful.”

An eerie smile unfurled across Rumple’s lips. “I needed to know what I was up against,” he corrected lightly. “But imagine my delight in discovering you two have reached something of a… stalemate.”

Regina stopped pacing. “There is no stalemate.”

“Oh?” His eyes gleamed.

He moved as if to leave, then paused just long enough to brush past her shoulder — deliberate, invasive. He leaned in, his voice silk and poison against her ear.

“We both know you’re not going to let anything happen to her.”

A breath.

“And not for the sake of any prophecy.”

Regina stiffened.

Smoke curled upward before she could react, his laughter dissolving into the air as he vanished.

She stepped forward on instinct — nearly lunging — fingers twitching with magic that had nowhere to land.

“Coward,” she muttered darkly, the word more accusation than insult.

Behind her, steel rang against steel as Emma trained.

And Regina refused to look at her.

Chapter Text

Regina had decided some distance was necessary.

If the Savior wasn’t constantly at her side, she wouldn’t have the opportunity to meddle with Regina’s magic.

Yes. That was the solution.

Distance.

Detachment.

She simply needed to keep her emotions out of it.

Rumplestiltskin was wrong. There was no stalemate between them. Regina’s magic was still stronger—still superior.

It had to be.

Then it hit her.

The curse she had once used on Snow White.

Death fulfilled the prophecy—but sleep?

Sleep required no sacrifice. No final act. No heroic intervention.

No Savior.

A slow smile curved at Regina’s lips.

It was elegant. Controlled. Perfect.

She stilled.

How had she not seen it sooner?

But there was a catch. The apple had to be taken willingly.

—

Regina stood at the edge of her orchard the next morning, fingers brushing absently over the polished red skin of the fruit as she thought.

Not force. Not fear.

Choice.

That was always the trick.

Her gaze drifted, distant.

How would she get the savior to taste her forbidden fruit?

Kidnapping mommy and daddy dearest flickered briefly through her mind—discarded just as quickly.

No.

Emma’s attachment there was… complicated. Unreliable.

Regina exhaled slowly, turning the apple in her hand.

Where did the Savior bend?

Her grip tightened slightly.

Everyone had a weakness.

The question was—

what would Emma believe was worth risking herself for?

She turned on her heel and made her way back to the castle, mind already moving three steps ahead, heels striking sharply against stone.

By the time she reached her chambers, the plan was still forming.

She stopped in front of the mirror, a slow, dangerous smile settling into place.

“Magic Mirror,” she said smoothly, “show me Emma Swan’s weakness.”

The glass darkened, smoke curling across its surface.

Then—an image.

A small boy.

Not the Enchanted Forest. The world was wrong—flat, muted, unfamiliar. The boy struggled with a backpack, brown hair falling into his eyes as a man crouched beside him, ruffling it.

“Let’s get you to school, kid.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed.

No resemblance. The man’s features were longer, sharper. Different entirely.

Not his father.

The boy ducked his head, then looked up. “Is Mom coming home tonight, Uncle August?”

Regina stilled.

August sighed. “Henry… your mom’s coming home this weekend, remember? She’s got that big case.”

He guided the boy toward the door, hand steady on his shoulder.

Henry.

The name settled into place.

The boy’s shoulders slumped. “I was hoping she came back early.”

The image dissolved in another curl of smoke.

The mirror reformed, its face emerging with quiet amusement.

“The Savior has a son,” it mused. “How… unexpected.”

Regina didn’t respond.

She had already turned away.

Thinking.

Pieces began to align.

Then Regina went still.

That hadn’t been a memory.

It was current.

The boy—Henry—was living in real time. Moving forward. Waiting for Emma to come home.

But here…

Regina’s gaze sharpened.

Emma had only been here a few months, but there she had only been gone a week.

And yet she had returned older. Changed. Lived in.

Time didn’t just move differently there—it ran ahead.

It always had.

So why—

Regina’s breath slowed as the thought settled in.

Why did it still look… current?

If time continued unchecked in that world, Emma should have been gone longer. There should have been more distance. More time passed without her.

But there wasn’t.

The boy was still waiting for the same weekend.

Still expecting her back.

Regina’s fingers curled slightly at her side.

Which meant one of two things.

Either time wasn’t moving the way it was supposed to…

Or—

Her presence here was interfering with it.

A quiet, dangerous realization.

Emma Swan wasn’t just connected to this realm.

She was anchoring something.

Holding two worlds in place without even realizing it.

Was Emma’s love for her son enough to hold the timeline together?

Enough to pull her back before he grew up without her?

Regina’s gaze darkened.

It dawned on her that she hadn’t just cursed Snow White. The curse was generational. 

Just like Emma, Henry would grow up without his mother—despite being loved by her.

A love Regina had never known.

Something in her chest tightened—sharp, unwelcome.

She pushed it down immediately.

Henry was Emma’s weakness.

Not hers.

Still…

her grip on that thought wasn’t as steady as it should have been.

Would sending Emma back end the prophecy? No death. No sacrifice.

They would be fighting for the same outcome—

just as they had been, whether either of them wanted to admit it or not.

Regina’s eyes drifted to the apple resting on her vanity, its surface gleaming in the low light.

No.

Her jaw set.

He would pay for Snow White’s crimes too.

Regina had lost everything she had ever loved.

It was only fair that Snow White did the same.

Her hand curled into a fist.

But the conviction didn’t settle the way it used to.

There was a part of her—quiet, buried deep—that didn’t quite believe it anymore.

And she refused to look at it.

—

Emma paced the castle walls, Captain Hale a step behind her.

Neither of them spoke.

Regina wasn’t taking any chances lately. Emma was watched—escorted—at nearly all times. Especially after discovering she could bend Regina’s magic as easily as Regina could hers.

They passed through the castle gates when Emma saw it.

A small boy—tanned skin, dark, shaggy hair—ran past, tears streaking his cheeks. A woman followed close behind, panic written all over her face.

His mother.

Behind them—

Bandits.

Emma didn’t think.

She moved.

Past the gates. Past Hale as he shouted after her.

A pulse of grey light shot from her hand, hitting the ground in front of the riders.

They stopped.

No—froze.

Men and horses alike, locked mid-motion.

The boy stumbled, hitting the ground hard. The woman dropped beside him, ready to scoop him up and run—

But then she saw Emma.

Standing between them and the danger.

“Hey—hey, it’s okay,” Emma said quickly, splitting her focus between holding the magic and the boy’s scraped knee. “You hurt?”

The woman nodded, still stunned. The boy had gone quiet, wide-eyed and tear-streaked.

Emma flicked her wrist.

The bandits vanished.

Gone.

The woman flinched. “W-where did they—”

“Back where they came from,” Emma said, crouching down in front of the boy. “Hopefully.”

A soft glow gathered in her palm. She passed it over his knee. The cut sealed instantly.

“That better?”

The boy blinked, then nodded, a small, dimpled smile breaking through.

Emma smiled back. “What’s your name, kid?”

“…Roland.”

“Roland,” she echoed. “And this your mom?”

He nodded.

"Marian, the woman supplied, shifting him onto her hip. Her eyes flicked toward the castle, then back to Emma. "Thank you. I didn't expect... help. From here."

Emma caught the meaning but didn't comment.

"Who were they?" she asked instead, standing.

“The Sheriff’s men,” Marian said, adjusting Roland on her hip. “There’s a bounty on my husband. They were using us as leverage.”

Emma frowned. “There are sheriffs here?”

“Not in this region,” Marian said carefully. “But in Nottingham…” She hesitated, choosing her words. “Let’s just say… authority isn’t always kinder elsewhere.”

Her eyes flicked briefly toward the castle.

Subtle. But clear.

Emma caught it instantly.

“Yeah,” she said lightly, folding her arms. “We’ve got a real mixed bag of leadership styles around here.” Then added under her breath.“Some worse than others,” 

Hale made a quiet, disapproving sound, but Emma just flashed him a quick grin.

“Hale, get her one of the guards’ horses.”

Hale was about to interject.

Then—

“Do as she says.”

Regina’s voice cut clean through the moment.

She appeared at the gates, composed, deliberate.

Hale straightened immediately and moved.

Marian took a small step back, instinctively protective of Roland.

Regina noticed.

Her gaze swept over them—measured, assessing—before settling on the boy.

Roland shifted slightly in his mother’s arms, still watching Emma with quiet curiosity.

Regina’s expression didn’t soften exactly.

But something in it… stilled.

She stepped closer.

“Do not mistake this for kindness,” Regina said evenly. “The Sheriff and I have… history. I take a certain satisfaction in interfering with his affairs.”

The horse was brought forward.

Regina took the reins, then paused—just briefly—before looking to Marian.

“Here,” she said.

Emma expected her to simply hand them off.

Instead, Regina reached for the boy.

Slow. Deliberate.

Giving him time to pull away if he wanted to.

Roland didn’t.

He leaned into it without hesitation.

That—

That almost caught her off guard.

Regina adjusted her hold automatically, resting him on her hip with practiced ease she hadn’t realized she still had.

“Careful,” she murmured under her breath—not to Marian, not to Emma.

To him.

It was quiet. Nearly lost to the wind.

Emma heard it anyway.

Regina stepped closer to the horse, lifting Roland up toward Marian once she was seated.

“Up you go,” she said, softer than before.

Once he was settled, her hand lingered a fraction too long at his ankle—ensuring he was steady.

Then she stepped back, composure snapping cleanly back into place.

“You’ll have safe passage from here,” Regina said. “Those men were far from home. If Miss Swan sent them back where they came from, you have time.”

Marian nodded quickly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Regina inclined her head once.

The horse turned. They rode off.

Emma glanced at her.

Regina didn’t return the look.

But her gaze followed the boy until he disappeared from view.

Chapter Text

When the horse finally disappeared from view and Regina was satisfied they were clear, she turned—

—and found Emma staring at her.

“What?” Regina asked, flat, edged.

Emma blinked, like she’d been caught somewhere she didn’t mean to be. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

Her mouth twitched. “You handing out horses and saving civilians? Kinda throws off the whole ‘Evil Queen’ brand.”

Regina’s expression sharpened instantly.

“Do you know what I wasn’t expecting?” she snapped, stepping forward, hands braced on her hips. “For you to reveal your magic to half the Enchanted Forest.”

Emma folded her arms, unimpressed. “Relax. I didn’t exactly hand out flyers.”

Regina stepped closer.

“Once one person knows, they all will,” she said, voice low and cutting. “And when they do, they won’t come at you blindly. They’ll come prepared.”

Another step.

“With magic meant for you. Traps designed to hold you.” Her eyes locked onto Emma’s. “And you won’t be able to charm your way out of those.”

Emma tilted her head, a slow smirk forming. “Wow. You almost sound worried about me.”

Regina’s jaw tightened.

“I’m worried about the consequences of your recklessness.”

“Mm.” Emma’s gaze flicked—quick, deliberate—to Regina’s lips before returning to her eyes. “Sure.”

They were close now. Close enough that neither of them had to raise their voices.

“If saving a kid and his mom puts a target on my back,” Emma continued, softer but no less firm, “I’ll take it.”

Regina’s eyes darkened. “You’re not just risking yourself,” she said, quieter now, more dangerous. “You’re complicating my position as well.”

Emma didn’t miss a beat.

“Right. Because this is really about you.”

Regina stepped in again, closing what little space remained.

“It always becomes about me when your decisions have consequences I have to manage.”

Emma held her ground, chin lifting slightly.

“Funny,” she murmured, voice dropping just enough, “because it kinda feels like you just don’t like not being the one in control.”

A beat.

Closer still.

Emma didn’t move away.

“If it makes you feel better,” she added, almost offhand, “you can keep telling yourself you’re mad about the magic thing.”

Her eyes flicked down again—slower this time—then back up.

“I won’t ruin that for you.”

Regina went very still.

“Careful, Miss Swan,” she said, voice low, controlled. “You’re walking a dangerous line.”

Emma’s smirk softened into something just shy of a challenge.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “You keep saying that.”

As they made their way back toward the castle, Rumplestiltskin sat perched high in a nearby tree, a bag of popcorn in hand, watching with quiet delight as he giggled under his breath.

—

To Regina, Emma’s latest stunt only confirmed what she already knew.

Reckless. Unpredictable. Impossible to control.

And eventually—inevitably—it would get her killed by someone far less forgiving.

She would need a plan. A precise one. Something that ensured Emma took the apple willingly.

Regina’s mind was already turning over possibilities when it happened.

A sharp shift.

Like something punched straight through her ribs.

Danger.

Not around her.

Not near her.

Just—

there.

Her breath caught.

She blinked once.

Then again.

And for a fraction of a second, the world wasn’t hers anymore.

It was Emma’s.

Not a vision. Not a spell she had cast.

A connection.

Emma’s perspective. Emma’s awareness. Emma’s immediate, present danger.

Regina went still.

Then the moment snapped back into place.

“Emma,” she said under her breath.

No hesitation followed.

“Guard!” she barked, already moving. “Saddle my horse. Now.”

By the time anyone processed the command, she was already gone—storming through the corridor, cloak snapping behind her, riding gear half-hidden beneath it, cursing profanities underneath her breath.

And then she was outside.

Mounting.

Riding hard before the gates had fully opened.

—

Emma knew how she ended up here.

And yet… she also didn’t.

One moment she was slipping out of the castle stables in the dark, the next she was standing in front of the Sheriff of Nottingham while her parents were bound behind him—ropes tight, positioned just in front of a guillotine that didn’t feel like an empty threat.

The note had been simple.

We have your parents. Come alone.

Emma had rolled her eyes—and come anyway.

Now she stood in the clearing, shoulders loose, gaze steady.

“So,” she said flatly, “what’s this really about?”

The Sheriff smiled.

Not smug.

Interested.

“You,” he said simply.

Emma huffed. “You’re gonna have to be more specific. I’ve got a lot going on.”

He circled her slowly. “You’ve made quite an impression since you arrived.”

“Yeah, I tend to.”

“Magic like yours,” he went on, casual but deliberate, “doesn’t stay unnoticed for long.”

Emma didn’t move. “Good thing I’m not trying to hide.”

His smile sharpened. “No. You’re not.”

A beat.

“Which makes you useful.”

That shifted something.

Emma’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Useful for what?”

He stepped in just enough to make it intentional.

“Leverage,” he said. “Power.” A pause. “Opportunity.”

Emma let out a short laugh. “You threatened the wrong person if you think I’m handing any of that over.”

“I don’t need you to hand it over,” he replied quietly. “Just long enough to understand it.”

Emma’s posture changed—subtle, but ready.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s not happening.”

“Maybe not,” he said lightly. “But you were enough to bring her here.”

His gaze flicked past her.

Emma didn’t turn—but she felt it.

Hoofbeats.

Fast.

Closing.

The Sheriff’s smile widened. “And that,” he added, almost pleased with himself, “is where this becomes interesting.”

Regina arrived like a storm breaking.

She didn’t slow.

Didn’t hesitate.

She dismounted in one clean motion, bow already drawn.

The arrow flew.

Straight between the Sheriff’s legs—close enough to make the point without spilling blood.

He froze—then forced himself upright, composure snapping back into place.

From the treeline, Robin and his men watched, ready to pounce but instead sat stunned.

Little John leaned toward him. “That was deliberate.”

Robin didn’t blink. “Very.”

“…I don’t dislike her.”

“Noted.”

“Fire!”

The Sheriff’s men emerged instantly, arrows loosed in a clean volley.

Emma moved—

but Regina was already there.

Purple magic snapped outward, catching every arrow mid-flight and sending them back.

Fast.

Precise.

Final.

Silence dropped.

Regina dismounted slowly now.

Controlled.

Too controlled.

“Hello, Keith,” she said, voice smooth and cold. “I believe you’ve taken something that doesn’t belong to you.”

The Sheriff studied her, almost pleased.

“I was wondering how long it would take,” he said.

Regina didn’t rise to it.

Didn’t move.

But something in the air around her shifted—tightened.

“You’ve made a mistake,” she said evenly.

He shook his head once, almost amused.

“No,” he said. “I made a point.”

His gaze slid to Emma.

“You’ve been letting that walk around unchecked,” he added. “I was curious what it would take to make you react.”

A beat.

Regina stepped forward.

Slow.

Measured.

Dangerous.

“You have your answer,” she said.

The Sheriff smiled faintly.

“I do.”

Another step from Regina.

Closer now.

“And now,” she added, quieter, sharper, “you’re going to fix it.”

He almost looked like he might.

Then—

he exhaled.

“Not yet.”

Something beneath Emma’s feet clicked.

Her head snapped down—

Runes ignited in a blinding circle, light snapping upward around her like a cage.

Emma reacted instantly—magic flaring—

It hit the barrier—

—and slammed back into her.

Hard.

She staggered, breath knocked from her lungs.

“Emma—”

Regina’s voice cut through, sharp—too sharp.

Emma pushed again, teeth gritted—

This time the magic didn’t just rebound.

It pulled.

Like the circle was trying to take something from her.

Her expression shifted. “Okay—yeah, that’s new—”

“Adaptive,” the Sheriff called, already moving.

Not standing still anymore.

He gestured sharply—his remaining men shifting position, tightening the perimeter, weapons drawn not just at Emma—but at Regina.

“Keep her busy,” he ordered. “If she breaks it, I want her contained again.”

From the treeline, Robin and his men moved.

Quiet. Efficient.

Cutting ropes.

Snow gasped softly as the tension released from her wrists, David already shifting beside her, ready to move.

Back in the clearing—

Regina didn’t look away from the circle.

Didn’t acknowledge the men surrounding her.

She stepped forward.

A blast of purple magic slammed into the barrier—

It held.

Barely.

The runes flickered.

Cracked.

The Sheriff noticed.

“Careful,” he warned, circling now, keeping distance. “Push too hard and it won’t just hold her—”

The runes flared brighter.

Emma choked slightly as the pull increased.

“—it’ll drain her.”

That—

that made Regina stop.

Not fully.

But enough.

And Emma saw it.

That hesitation.

Not strategy.

Fear.

Gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

Emma’s brows pulled together, breath uneven.

“…you got here fast,” she said, quieter now, something clicking into place. She blinked and for a moment thought she could see through Regina’s eyes.

Regina ignored it.

“Use it,” she said instead, voice low, controlled.

Now she looked at her.

“Push with me.”

Emma didn’t argue.

Didn’t have time.

She raised her hands again—

Grey light surged forward—

Regina’s magic followed—

And the moment they met—

they changed.

Blended.

One force instead of two.

The barrier broke in a blinding light.

Cracks split through the runes.

The Sheriff’s composure slipped.

“Stop them—now!”

His men rushed forward—

Too late.

The circle shattered.

Violently.

Magic exploded outward in a shockwave.

Emma was thrown forward—

Straight out of the collapsing barrier—

—and directly into Regina.

They hit the ground hard.

Emma on top of her.

The air knocked out of both of them for a second.

Too close.

Again.

Emma’s hands were braced on either side of Regina’s shoulders, her knee caught against Regina’s thigh, their faces inches apart.

For a split second—

neither of them moved.

Emma blinked, breath catching, eyes flicking—briefly, involuntarily—to Regina’s lips—

Then back up.

“…yeah,” she murmured, a little breathless, a little stunned, “you definitely got here fast.”

Regina stared up at her.

Not angry.

Not composed.

Something else—cracked open for half a second too long—

before it slammed shut.

“Get. Off.”

Emma smirked—just slightly—but didn’t rush it.

“Wow,” she muttered, pushing herself up slowly. “You save me and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be thanking you, am I?” Regina was already moving, “Remind me not to save your life again.” rising in one sharp motion, magic snapping back into place around her like armor.

“This isn’t over,” the Sheriff called, retreating now, calculating again rather than panicked.

His gaze lingered on them—on the space between them.

On what he’d just seen.

“Now I know,” he added, almost to himself.

Regina’s expression darkened.

“Run,” she said coldly.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He vanished into the trees with what remained of his men.

Behind them, Robin helped Snow to her feet while David moved to secure the area.

But in the center of it—

Emma brushed dirt from her jacket, glancing sideways at Regina.

Still a little too aware.

Still putting pieces together.

“…so,” she said lightly, “you wanna talk about the whole ‘feeling me in danger’ thing or are we sticking with the broody silence?”

Regina didn’t answer.

But her jaw tightened—

She grabbed her horse’s reins and mounted in one smooth motion, settling into the saddle like it was second nature. Then she held a hand out—impatient, expectant.

Emma blinked at it. “You’re kidding.”

“Would you prefer to walk?” Regina shot back, already turning the horse slightly as if she’d leave her there.

Emma glanced around—at the empty space where her horse once was, at the aftermath still settling.

“…right.”

She took Regina’s hand.

Regina pulled her up without effort. Emma swung her leg over, landing behind her a little less gracefully, shifting to find her balance. Her hands hovered awkwardly before settling—lightly—on Regina’s shoulders.

A beat.

“Sooo,” Emma started, half a laugh slipping out, “is this like a motorcycle situation, or—”

Regina sighed, long-suffering. “For God’s sake, Miss Swan, put your arms around my waist. Unless you’re planning on falling off.”

A pause.

Then, almost as an afterthought—

“What the hell is a motorcycle?”

That got a real laugh out of Emma.

“Never mind,” she said, shaking her head.

But she hesitated for just a second before sliding her arms around Regina’s waist.

And immediately wished she hadn’t.

Too close.

The warmth of her pressed in, solid and real under her hands. The faint scent of something dark and expensive—Regina’s perfume—caught in Emma’s lungs, grounding and distracting all at once.

Her grip tightened before she could stop it.

Yeah.

Mistake.

Chapter Text

The ride back to the castle was quiet.

Not calm—tight. Like the air was waiting for something.

Emma tried anyway.

“So,” she started, a little too casual, “how do you actually become Queen around here? Because I’m guessing it’s not exactly a popular vote situation.”

The horse stopped.

Regina didn’t turn all the way around, just enough for her voice to cut back over her shoulder. “It sounds like you’d prefer to walk.”

Emma huffed a breath. “Right. Noted. No small talk.”

They moved again.

A stretch of silence passed—long enough that Emma figured that was the end of it.

Then—

“My mother arranged a marriage,” Regina said, almost offhand. “To King Leopold. Snow’s father.”

Emma blinked. “Oh.” A beat. “Arranged marriage. Yeah… I wouldn’t be thrilled about that.”

“I wasn’t.”

Simple. Flat.

Regina’s gaze stayed forward, but it wasn’t really on the road anymore.

She should’ve left it there. But she didn’t.

“I was nineteen.”

Emma let out a quiet, disbelieving breath. “Nineteen? That’s—” she shook her head. “That’s a kid. No one that age should be running a kingdom.”

A pause.

Regina’s grip on the reins shifted slightly.

“No,” she said, quieter. “They shouldn’t.”

Emma went quiet for a second, like she was turning that over.

Then—

“I was eighteen when I had my son.”

Regina stilled, just barely.

Careful.

“You have a son?” she asked, keeping her tone even, careful not to show her hand on what she knew.

“Yeah.” A small pause. “Henry.”

Regina swallowed that name down like it didn’t matter.

“He’s with someone I trust,” Emma added, a little quicker. “A friend—August. He’s… good with him. Keeps him steady.”

“You never mentioned him before.”

Emma shrugged, the motion brushing against Regina’s back. “Didn’t seem like the safest detail to share, all things considered.” A beat. “And I haven’t exactly figured out how to explain him to the whole ‘these are your parents’ situation.” She let out a small breath. “They’d want to meet him. It’d turn into a whole thing.”

“Mm.” Regina’s lip twitched faintly. “I can imagine.”

The thought alone sounded exhausting.

“Sounds… complicated,” she added after a moment. “Being a mother that young.”

Emma shifted slightly behind her. “Yeah. It was.” Then, lighter, “But you don’t exactly have room to judge, Your Majesty.”

Regina arched a brow, just barely. “Is that so?”

“You became Snow’s stepmother at nineteen,” Emma pointed out. “Add a crown to that? That’s a lot for anyone, let alone someone who barely got to be a person first.”

Regina tilted her head a fraction.

That wasn’t how she’d ever framed it.

She’d never been given the option to.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she said, defaulting back to something cleaner. Safer.

Emma didn’t push.

But she didn’t quite let it go either.

“And Leopold?” she asked after a moment, more careful now. “How old was he?”

Regina’s hands tightened on the reins.

She could end this conversation here.

Should.

“…fifty-two.”

Emma went very still.

“Jesus,” she muttered under her breath. “That’s not—” she cut herself off, then shook her head anyway. “That’s not okay.”

Regina’s jaw set, something flickering through her chest—brief, sharp.

“He was kind,” she said, a little too quickly. Then, quieter, more honest than she meant to be, “Just not kind enough to acknowledge  I wasn’t happy and actually do something about it.” 

The silence that followed was different.

Heavier.

The implications hit Emma all at once—what that kind of marriage actually meant. What Regina would’ve been expected to give. What she wouldn’t have been allowed to refuse.

Emma’s grip shifted slightly.

“How long?” she asked, quieter now. “How long were you stuck with him?”

Regina didn’t hesitate. “Seven years.”

A beat.

“Then I got tired of it,” she added, almost lightly. “Tricked a genie into killing him.”

There was a flicker of something sharp at the corner of her mouth. Not quite a smile. Not quite anything softer.

“After that,” she finished, “I could do whatever I wanted.”

Emma nodded slowly, taking that in. “Anything,” she echoed. Then, gentler—more pointed, “except make that nineteen-year-old version of you happy.”

She waited for the backlash. But it didn’t come. Not out loud, anyway.

Regina’s jaw flexed, fingers digging further around the reins. The silence stretched, edged.

Who did Emma think she was?

Behind her, Emma let out a small breath.

“I used to think about that,” she said after a moment. “What it would’ve been like to just… be eighteen. No responsibility, no—” she cut herself off, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t trade Henry for anything. Not even a second.” A faint smile slipped through. “And I realized that growing up beside him, I got pieces of that back. Being a kid with him.”

Her arms loosened just slightly around Regina’s waist, more relaxed now.

“Last time I saw him, we went to this place with games—an arcade,” she added when Regina didn’t react. “He absolutely destroyed me at skee-ball.”

A quiet laugh.

Regina’s brow knit faintly. “Skee-ball?”

Emma huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah… that’s fair. It’s—” she shook her head. “It’s hard to explain.”

A beat passed.

Then, quieter—

“But it made him happy.”

And something about the way she said it lingered.

“And Henry’s father?” Regina asked, her tone neutral—too neutral.

Emma let out a quiet breath through her nose, already over it. “No idea,” she said. “He bailed the second he found out.” She rolled her eyes. “Wanted me to get an abortion, or give Henry up. Like those were just… decisions he got to make for me.” A small shake of her head. “Not that there’s anything wrong with either, but it didn’t feel like I had a say in what was happening to my own body.”

Her voice steadied, firmer now.

“And I wasn’t about to let this kid grow up bouncing through the system like I did.”

Regina didn’t know the details of what “the system” meant—but she understood enough.

Unwanted. Unchosen. Passed along.

Something in her chest eased in a way she didn’t care to examine. Emma wasn’t tied to anyone. No husband. No lingering attachment—Outside of Henry, of course.

She exhaled softly, almost a scoff. “After being abandoned the way you were, I’m surprised you don’t want Snow White dead as much as I do.”

Emma huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah… about that.” She tilted her head slightly. “If you already had Leopold killed, why keep going after her? You got your freedom, not to mention the kingdom.”

Regina swallowed. 

“That wasn’t the point.”

There was heat behind her eyes now—sharp, familiar.

“She took something from me,” Regina said, voice low, controlled but edged with something darker. “Something I don’t get back.”

A beat.

“If it weren’t for her,” she continued, quieter but more venomous, “I never would’ve been forced into that marriage in the first place.”

The air shifted again.

Emma didn’t push.

She just sat with it—felt it settle heavy in her chest, that nineteen-year-old version of Regina buried somewhere under all the sharp edges. It didn’t excuse anything.

But it explained more than Regina probably wanted it to.

“Who was it?” Emma asked quietly. “The one you lost.” Like without Regina explaining, she already knew. 

Regina didn’t answer right away.

Then—

“Daniel.”

The name barely made it past her lips.

“We were going to leave. Just… go.” Her voice thinned. “Together.”

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

Regina went still.

Why was she saying this? Why was she letting it out—here, of all places, to her?

She swallowed hard, jaw tightening like she could shove it all back in.

Emma didn’t say anything.

Didn’t try to fix it.

She just leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against Regina’s shoulder, her arms tightening a little around her waist—careful, like she knew she was pushing her luck.

Like it might be the closest thing Regina would allow to comfort.

Regina’s eyes flicked down at her, sharp, irritated—like she should shove her off, like she would any other time.

She didn’t.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

—

At the castle, Emma slipped off the horse first, boots hitting the ground.

Then she turned, lifting her hands without thinking. “C’mon.”

Regina looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

She didn’t need help.

She never needed—

Still, she took it.

Emma’s hands settled at her waist, steadying her as she slid down from the saddle.

For a second—just a second—they didn’t move.

Emma’s hands were still at her waist. Regina’s resting, almost without noticing, at Emma’s shoulders.

Neither of them stepped back right away. Like they both clocked the distance at the same time.

Regina pulled away first, clearing her throat, smoothing her expression back into something controlled.

They moved toward the castle doors.

Almost separate.

Almost.

Regina’s hand caught Emma’s wrist before she could go.

“Don’t go looking for any more trouble tonight, Miss Swan,” she said, tone sharp—meant to be a warning.

It didn’t land that way.

Emma glanced down at Regina’s hand, then back up, something softer slipping into her expression.

Instead of pulling away, she shifted—just enough to turn her hand in Regina’s grip, threading their fingers loosely together.

Regina didn’t stop her.

Emma lifted their joined hands, and pressed a light kiss to the back of Regina’s knuckles.

“For you, Your Majesty? I’ll try.”

Then she let go of her hand—just as easily as she’d taken it—and walked off.

Leaving Regina standing there, hand still half-raised, like she hadn’t quite caught up yet.

When Regina returned to her room, her gaze landed immediately on the apple.

It sat on her dresser like it had been waiting—like it knew.

Perfect. Red. Exactly where she’d left it.

Mocking.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at it. At everything it promised. Everything it could solve.

Everything it would cost.

With a sharp exhale, she crossed the room and snatched it up, her grip firmer than it needed to be. Her brows pulled together as she opened the drawer beneath the dresser and dropped it inside.

Shut.

Out of sight.

Like that settled it.

She lingered there for a second longer, hand still resting on the drawer.

Then pulled it away.

Decision made.

Even if she refused to say it out loud—

she wasn’t going to use it.

Chapter Text

Mornings made Regina look… softer.

She lay draped in white silk, the nightgown catching the light, her dark hair spilled loose over her shoulders in gentle waves. No crown, no posture, no sharp edges—just sleep.

Emma paused in the doorway, peeking through the smallest crack, a slow, mischievous smirk tugging at her lips as she eased it open. Careful. Quiet. No sound.

She slipped inside, closing it just as softly behind her.

Step by step, she crept closer, light on her feet, like even the floor might give her away. When she reached the bed, she stopped, tilting her head slightly as she took Regina in.

There was something almost unfair about it. How she looked so peaceful. Untouched.

Emma exhaled through her nose, smile growing.

Was she really about to ruin this?

…Yeah. Probably.

With a small flick of her hand, a bucket of water shimmered into existence above the bed.

She didn’t hesitate.

The bucket tipped.

Water crashed down in one swift, unforgiving wave.

Regina shot upright with a gasp, silk clinging, hair instantly soaked, whatever softness had been there gone in an instant.

Her eyes—dark, sharp, furious—locked onto Emma.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

“I am going to kill you.”

“Very,” She rose from the bed, movements calm in a way that made it worse—measured, dangerous, water dripping in quiet rivulets as she stepped forward. “Very slowly.” 

Emma clicked her tongue, grin pulling at her mouth.

“Hm. Don’t like the tables being turned?”

Regina stepped forward.

Emma stepped back.

Easy. Familiar. Like a rhythm they’d already learned the hard way.

Water slid down Regina’s arms, dripping from soaked silk that clung in a way Emma very deliberately did not look at—eyes snapping back up the second they even considered it.

Focus.

Stay alive. Then be stupid.

In that order.

“I will turn you into something small,” Regina said, voice low, “and step on you.”

Another step.

“I will make you regret breathing.”

Emma scratched lightly at the back of her head, like this was a mildly inconvenient conversation rather than imminent magical homicide.

Pretty sure I already forgot how to breathe, she thought.

“And then,” Regina continued, eyes sharpening, “I will bring you back.”

A beat.

Just enough for Emma to feel it.

“So I can do it again.”

There it was—that look in Regina’s eyes now. Sharp. Focused. A little unhinged in a way that should’ve been terrifying.

Emma huffed a breath, trying very hard not to notice how close this had gotten.

“…you know,” she said lightly, “I feel like there might be a healthier way to process this.”

Regina didn’t blink.

“I am processing this,” she said.

And took another step.

“But is it healthy?” Emma tilted her head, like they were discussing weather instead of magical violence.

She knew she was pushing it.

She also knew she wasn’t stopping.

And, annoyingly, she was enjoying it—just enough to make it worse.

Regina’s smile sharpened.

“Running is healthy,” she said pleasantly. “I recommend it.”

Emma hesitated for half a second too long.

Something in her brain finally caught up with the situation: this had moved past teasing.

Well past.

“…you know what,” Emma said quickly, “I could use a bit of a jog.”

She turned—

paused just long enough to glance back with a grin that absolutely didn’t help her case—

and then took off.

Fast.

Ungraceful.

Very committed to survival.

Behind her, Regina didn’t rush.

She just exhaled slowly, like she had all the time in the world.

“Smart choice,” she called after her.

Then, softer—

“Now try not to die immediately.”

And she followed.

She hated that she didn’t have to run.

Didn’t even have to think about where Emma had gone.

Her magic was there—pulling at her, steady and insistent, like a thread she couldn’t cut. Her magic didn’t just sense Emma.

It found her.

Followed her.

Dragged Regina after her whether she liked it or not.

—

Emma had gotten just far enough ahead to think she was clever.

She skidded to a stop beside a display—an old suit of armor standing stiff and silent against the wall—and bit back a laugh as an idea hit.

A second later, she slipped inside it, magic flickering just enough to settle the pieces into place. Like she was in an episode of scooby doo.

Still.

Silent.

Waiting.

Footsteps echoed.

Slow. Measured.

Emma held her breath, grin threatening to break across her face as Regina came into view, stalking down the corridor like she already knew exactly where this ended.

Closer.

Closer—

Regina stopped.

Right in front of her.

Emma went very still.

Regina’s head tilted slightly, gaze dragging over the armor.

“What a handsome knight,” she mused, voice soft—almost thoughtful—as her fingers brushed over the metal chest.

Emma’s heart hammered.

“Too bad it has to die.”

Oh—

Emma didn’t even think.

The armor clattered apart in a flash of grey light as she bolted, laughter finally breaking free as she sprinted down the hall.

“You can’t hide from me, Miss Swan,” Regina called after her, voice carrying easily.

Emma rounded the corner—

—and nearly ran straight into her.

A burst of purple smoke, and suddenly Regina was there, solid and unavoidable, her hand snapping around Emma’s arm.

“Tag,” Regina said, low and dangerous. “You’re it.”

Her current demeanor was terrifying. Even in her soft white silk nightgown she was still terrifying enough to make grown men shake in their boots. 

Emma just blinked—then grinned. Like that had gone exactly how she wanted. “Oh, I’m it?” she echoed.

Grey light flared, slipping her clean out of Regina’s grip.

“Good,” Emma added, backing up a step. “Because I take tag very seriously.”

Above them, another bucket shimmered into existence.

Regina clocked it immediately and stepped back—just out of reach.

But the bucket followed.

Hovering.

Patient.

“Emma,” Regina warned, eyes narrowing. “Don’t.”

Emma tilted her head, smile widening.

Noted, she thought. Get Regina to use my first name more often.

Regina let out a small, frustrated sound—and then she was moving.

Actually running.

The bucket trailed just behind her, stubborn and inevitable.

Wait-

What was she doing?

She didn’t run. Not from anyone. Not from anything. Certainly not Emma Swan.

And yet—

She glanced back for half a second too long.

That was all it took.

The water caught up.

It crashed over her again, soaking her completely—though part of her registered, distantly, that it made very little difference. She was already drenched.

Regina went still.

Slowly—very slowly—she turned to face Emma.

“Are you quite finished?” she asked, voice controlled, edged.

Emma shrugged, entirely too pleased with herself. “Maybe.” A beat. “You feeling nineteen again yet?”

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “More like twelve.”

Emma grinned. “A win’s a win.”

Regina exhaled sharply through her nose.

This was ridiculous.

Undignified.

Entirely beneath her.

And yet—

something in her chest felt…lighter.

Annoyingly so.

“You are insufferable,” she snapped.

But there was no real heat behind it.

Emma hummed, stepping closer—close enough to be within reach, like she wasn’t concerned at all.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Regina’s gaze flicked to her, sharp—but she didn’t move.

And that was Emma’s opening.

Quick as a flash, she tapped Regina’s shoulder—

“You’re it!”

—and bolted down the corridor, laughter echoing behind her.

Regina stood there for half a second.

Then—

despite herself—

she turned and followed.

Emma tore down the corridor, laughter still trailing behind her.

Footsteps—faster now—closing the distance.

Too fast.

Emma glanced back—

Mistake.

When she turned forward again—

Regina was right there.

No smoke this time.

No warning.

Just—

impact.

Emma barely had time to register it before Regina’s hands caught her—solid, unyielding—

and then the momentum carried them both down.

Hard.

Emma hit first, breath punching out of her—

Regina right on top of her a second later.

Silence.

Emma blinked up at her, a little stunned, a little breathless—

“…hi.”

Regina didn’t move.

Didn’t immediately pull away.

Her hands were still braced on either side of Emma, caging her in, hair falling forward, still damp, silk clinging in a way Emma absolutely did not acknowledge—

did not think about—

was definitely not thinking about.

Regina’s expression flickered—something uncertain cutting through the anger for just a second.

Like she didn’t know what to do with this.

With her.

With the fact that she hadn’t immediately gotten up.

Emma’s smirk came back, softer this time.

“Guess you caught me.”

That did it.

Regina’s expression snapped back into place, something sharper taking over as she straightened just slightly—

but didn’t get up.

“Don’t sound so pleased about it,” she said, low.

Emma’s eyes flicked—just for a second—

then back up.

“Not my fault you tackled me.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You’re on top of me.”

A beat.

Regina froze.

Just enough to realize—

She was.

And she hadn’t moved.

Color flickered—subtle, but there.

Then she pushed herself up quickly, stepping back like the floor had burned her.

“Get up,” she snapped.

Emma sat up slower, grin returning.

“Wow,” she muttered. “And here I thought this was bonding.”

Regina’s jaw tightened.

Then, coolly—

“You’re it.”

She didn’t offer a hand. Didn’t wait.

Just turned, already moving down the corridor like the outcome had been inevitable.

Emma blinked once—then grinned, pushing herself to her feet.

“Oh, now you wanna play fair?” she called after her.

Regina’s voice echoed back, smooth and dark with amusement.

“Who said anything about playing fair?”

A quiet, almost wicked chuckle followed.

“You’ll have to find me first.”

And then—she was gone, swallowed by a curl of purple smoke.

Emma threw her hands up. “Hey! That’s cheating!” she called down the hall. “It’s tag, not hide and seek.”

A beat.

Then her grin came back.

“Fine,” she muttered, already moving. “Guess we’re doing both.”

Chapter Text

Despite herself, Regina caught her own reflection smiling as she brushed through her hair.

It was subtle.

Barely there.

Gone the second she noticed it.

A soft giggle echoed behind her.

“Careful, dearie,” Rumple drawled as he appeared, settling into a chair like he’d always been there. “Someone might start to think you have…feelings.”

Regina’s expression hardened instantly, the softness wiped clean.

“What do you want, Stiltskin?”

He crossed one leg over the other, entirely at ease.

“What makes you think I want anything?”

Regina turned to face him fully, arms folding. “Oh, of course. Just stopping by for pleasant conversation?” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Yes, actually.”

A beat.

Regina arched a brow. “Then get on with it.”

Rumple’s smile sharpened. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you? How her being here is… complicating things.”

“Yes.” Flat. Certain.

“And?” he prompted. “What’s the plan? Tear apart one realm or both to avoid your little prophecy?”

Regina didn’t hesitate. “I’d burn them both before I give up what’s mine.”

Rumple hummed, pleased. “Mm. Ambitious.” His gaze flicked up to meet hers. “And you think your new companion is going to be okay with time— the word her son lives in being torn apart so you can keep your crown?”

Regina’s jaw tightened. “The Savior is not my companion.”

A soft, knowing laugh.

“Not your friend, then?”

“She is nothing to me.”

Rumple’s grin widened, unconvinced. “Strange,” he mused. “You had her under guard not long ago. Now I hear you’re playing hero for her? At a moments notice no less.”

Regina’s eyes flashed. “Watch your tone.”

“Oh, I am,” he said lightly. “Very carefully.”

He leaned forward just slightly.

“You look quite blithe, dearie.”

Regina didn’t respond.

Which, in itself, was answer enough.

A part of Regina didn’t want to let Emma sacrifice herself. That part was inconvenient.

Easy enough to bury beneath something more familiar—control, power, self-preservation. Motives she could live with.

Still—

the longer the prophecy sat unresolved, the more the realm strained under it. She could feel it in the magic itself. Fracturing. Pulling.

She chose not to look too closely at why that unsettled her.

Rumple moved, already turning something over in his hands.

Red. Glossy. Perfect.

The apple.

Regina’s gaze snapped to it, something sharp flashing in her eyes. “Put that back.”

“Hm,” Rumple hummed, ignoring her entirely as he inspected it. “I do wonder what you had planned for this.” A slow, knowing smile curled at his lips. “You actually do hate her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” The answer came too quickly.

And without much weight behind it.

Rumple’s grin deepened. “And you intend to give this to her?” He already knew.

Regina said nothing. The silence stretched just long enough to answer for her.

“It would solve all your problems,” he sing-songed lightly.

Regina rolled her eyes, though her attention never left the apple. “There’s still a chance the prophecy would count it as a sacrifice.”

A soft giggle.

“Possible,” Rumple allowed. Then, tilting his head, voice dropping just slightly—sharper now. “But tell me, dearie…”

He turned the apple once more in his hand.

“What other options do you have?”

Regina scowled. “Whatever damn options I please.”

She snatched the apple from his hand and crossed the room in one sharp motion, sliding it back into the drawer and shutting it with finality.

Done.

Or so she thought.

Behind her, Rumple only smiled.

“Of course,” he said lightly. “My mistake.” The sarcasm threaded clean through his tone. “No one tells Her Majesty what to do.”

Regina shot him a look over her shoulder, already well past irritated.

“I’ll just be off then.”

And just like that—

he vanished.

The room fell quiet.

The drawer stayed shut.

But the apple inside was no longer the one that had hid there an hour ago. 

—

Emma hadn’t meant for it to happen.

It just… did.

Sometimes she’d blink and—

there it was.

Regina’s perspective 

A flash. A shift. Like the world tilted sideways for half a second before snapping back.

The first few times it had nearly sent her into a panic.

Now it just left her unsettled.

This time, though—

she didn’t pull away right away.

Regina’s point of view came into focus—her chambers, the mirror, and Rumplestiltskin standing far too comfortably in the middle of it all. Emma didn’t catch everything, just fragments, pieces slipping through like she wasn’t meant to hear them.

But one line stuck.

“And you think your new companion is going to be okay with time—the world her son lives in being torn apart so you can keep your crown?”

Emma’s eyes snapped open.

The connection cut instantly.

Silence rushed back in.

Something in her chest tightened—then hardened.

Of course Regina was hiding something from her.

She was the Evil Queen.

What had Emma expected?

—

Over the next few weeks, something shifted.

Emma kept her distance.

Not cold—never that—but quieter. Shorter conversations. Fewer jabs. Less… presence.

Regina noticed.

Of course she did.

She would never say it out loud, but something in her chest twisted every time Emma pulled away just a little too easily.

Maybe this was inevitable.

Maybe Emma had finally remembered exactly who Regina was.

No amount of stupid games in castle corridors was going to change that.

Regina straightened slightly, jaw tightening as she pushed the thought aside.

And why, exactly, should it matter what Emma Swan thinks?

—

Emma had decided on one question when she went looking for him.

“What’s happening to time?”

Her arms were crossed, stance firm. No preamble. No games.

They met in the forest, far enough from the castle that even the air felt different—quieter, like it was listening.

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes narrowed slightly, something like surprise flickering there.

“Oh,” he mused. “You’ve noticed.”

A soft giggle slipped out, pleased and sharp. “Well… you’re smarter than your parents. I’ll give you that.”

Emma didn’t react. “Don’t play games with me, Stiltskin.” Her patience was already thin.

Rumple studied her for a moment, weighing something unseen. Then he hummed, as if coming to a decision. “Fine.”

He stepped closer, fingers steepled, voice lowering just enough to feel deliberate.“But I’ll need something from you first.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “What.”

“Just a strand of your hair.”

He opened his hands slightly—not quite a shrug, more like an offering. Like this was simple. Harmless.

Emma didn’t move. “That’s it?”

“Dearie,” he said softly, a dangerous smile curling at the edges, “if I wanted more… you’d know.”

It didn’t quite sound like reassurance.

Emma hesitated, weighing it.

“Fine.”

She reached up, plucked a few strands of hair, and dropped them into his waiting hand.

“What do I need to know?”

Rumple’s fingers curled around them, something pleased and calculating flickering across his face.

“Time,” he began, almost casually, “doesn’t behave the same in your world as it does here. That’s why you arrived as an adult… while your parents had only waited a week.”

He started to circle her, slow and deliberate.

“But now—” he continued, voice lowering, “you’re… anchoring it.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “Anchoring?”

“Mmm.” A hum of approval. “Holding two realms together that were never meant to touch like this.” He tilted his head, studying her. “Unbalancing things.”

He stepped in front of her again, stopping just close enough to feel intentional.

“All because there’s something there,” he said softly, “that you won’t let grow up without you.”

Emma’s breath caught.

“Henry,” she murmured, barely audible.

Rumple’s smile deepened.

“A mother’s love,” he said, almost fondly, “can be very powerful.”

Emma’s brows pulled together. “How did you know I had a son?”

Rumple gave a small, theatrical wave of his hand, like he was performing for an audience only he could see. “I see many things, dearie. Though it’s rarely as straightforward as one might hope.”

Emma didn’t bite. “Right.” She crossed her arms tighter. “So why does it matter if I’m ‘anchoring’ time? Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like that just means I eventually get back to my kid.”

Rumple clicked his tongue, a soft tsk of amusement.

“Time doesn’t reward patience,” he said. “Not like that.”

He took a slow step closer, voice dropping.

“Hold a connection like this for too long—stretch it, strain it—especially with something as… volatile as a prophecy involved…” He tilted his head. “And things begin to unravel.”

Emma’s stomach dropped.

“Unravel how?”

Rumple smiled, thin and knowing. “Little things at first. Then bigger ones. Cause and effect bending in ways they shouldn’t. Until eventually—” he spread his hands slightly, “—it all collapses in on itself.”

A beat.

“Both realms.”

Emma let out a slow breath, jaw tightening as the weight of it settled.

“Okay,” she said finally. “That sounds a lot less like I’m getting back to my kid.”

“Lucky for you,” Rumple said, a slow smirk curling into place, “I happen to have a solution.”

Emma let out a short, disbelieving huff. “Oh yeah? And what’s that going to cost me?”

Smoke curled in his palm—

and from it, a familiar, gleaming red apple took shape.

Emma’s expression flattened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sure you recognize it.”

“The whole Snow White takes a bite and drops dead situation?” Emma muttered.

“Sleeping curse,” Rumple corrected lightly. “Not death. Not quite.” He extended it toward her. “Reversible. Contained. And, most importantly…” a small pause, “…sufficient.”

Emma didn’t take it right away. “Sufficient for what?”

“For the prophecy,” he said simply. “It requires sacrifice. This… satisfies the spirit of it without the permanence.”

That got her attention.

“And while you sleep,” he went on, voice softening into something almost coaxing, “you’re not bound in the same way. Dreams, dearie—they have a way of slipping between realms.” A small, knowing smile. “You may not be able to return to your son… but you could still see him.”

That did it.

Emma reached out, taking the apple slowly, her gaze fixed on it.

“…And the alternative?” she asked, already knowing she wouldn’t like the answer.

Rumple blinked at her, almost amused she had to ask. “Death.”

A beat.

Emma let out a long breath, staring down at the apple in her hand.

“Right.”

“If you die,” he continued casually, “you release your hold on both realms. The same is true if you sleep.” A slight shrug. “One is simply… less final.”

Emma turned the apple slightly in her fingers, jaw tight.

“If I do this,” she said, quieter now, “I want something in return.”

Rumple’s brows lifted, a soft giggle escaping him. “I’m offering you a way out that doesn’t end in your untimely demise… and you’re negotiating?” He leaned in just slightly. “Careful, dearie. You’re starting to sound like me.”

“I want a guarantee,” Emma said, lifting her gaze from the apple. “That if—” she caught herself, jaw setting, “—when I wake up, I have a way back to my kid. Because from what you just told me, I’ll just start this whole mess over again.”

Rumple clapped his hands once, delighted.

“Oh, you are smarter than your parents,” he said, almost fondly. He rocked back on his heels, hands slipping behind his back. “But I’m afraid I’ve already been quite generous.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” he replied smoothly. Then, as if it were an afterthought— “I can, however, pass a message along. Your parents do have a rather irritating talent for bringing people back together.”

Not that he would actually do it. He had a plan to get Emma back already, but he wasn’t going to share it. He wasn’t feeling that generous. 

Emma looked back down at the apple, turning it slowly in her hand.

Thinking.

Weighing.

“…Fine.”

Rumple’s smile sharpened, satisfied.

He turned to leave, then paused just long enough to glance over his shoulder.

“If it’s any comfort,” he said lightly, eyes flicking to the strands of blonde hair curled between his fingers, “I’d say your future is looking… promising.”

Emma huffed a dry laugh. “Wow. Reassuring. Thanks.”

Sarcasm, through and through.

Rumple vanished in a curl of smoke.

—

When he reappeared in his own castle, the air shifted—quieter, heavier.

He crossed the room without hesitation and placed the strands of Emma’s hair into a small glass vial, sealing it with care.

“If I can bottle the love of Prince Charming and Snow White…” he murmured to himself, eyes gleaming.

A slow, wicked smile followed.

“Just imagine what I can do with the love of twin flames.”

Chapter Text

Emma made her way back to the castle slowly, the weight of the decision settling heavier with every step.

By the time she reached her room, it felt final.

—

Regina felt her before she saw her.

A sharp pull through her magic—constant, insistent. Like an echo she couldn’t shut out, always pointing her back to Emma.

Usually irritating.

Now something about it felt… off.

Emma had gone straight to her room.

No detours. No noise. No presence brushing up against hers the way it always did.

And after weeks of distance—of short answers and careful space—

it tugged.

Hard.

Regina’s jaw tightened.

Fine.

If Emma wanted to play silent treatment—Regina was going to call her out on it.

She didn’t bother knocking.

The door slammed open.

“Listen, you can avoid me all you want—”

The words died in her throat.

Emma was on the floor.

Still.

The apple lay just inches from her hand, a single, perfect bite taken from its side.

For a second, Regina didn’t move.

Then—

“No. No, no, no—”

It came out sharp at first. Irritated. Disbelieving.

But it fractured quickly, unraveling with each repetition of the word as she rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside her.

“Emma, you complete idiot—” The words were biting, automatic—defensive.

It was too late.

Her hand hovered, unsure, before finally settling against Emma’s shoulder.

Cold.

Unresponsive.

A tear slipped down Regina’s cheek before she could stop it.

Something in her chest twisted—tight, unfamiliar, unbearable.

She had never needed anyone. Never allowed it.

But this—

this wasn’t that. This was something else entirely.

The realization hit her all at once, heavy and undeniable.

Not needing anyone…

and having no one—

were not the same thing.

“Wake up, you absolute moron!” Regina snapped, the words sharp, laced with anger like it could burn the spell off of her.

Emma didn’t move.

The stillness made something in Regina’s chest spike—hotter, sharper.

A familiar giggle threaded through the room.

“What’s wrong, dearie?” Rumple appeared in a cloud of smoke as if he’d always been there. “I thought she was nothing to you.”

Regina stood in one swift motion, fury snapping into place like armor.

“You did this.”

He only smiled. “She came to me. Wanted answers. I simply… obliged.”

“Then undo it.” Her voice dropped, controlled now—dangerous. “Now.”

“I’m afraid fixing it doesn’t work that way.” He strolled past her, nudging Emma’s boot with idle curiosity before glancing back. “But you know exactly what does.”

Regina’s jaw tightened. “Don’t.”

“True love’s kiss,” he said anyway, almost bored. “Hardly subtle magic.”

“I said don’t.” The words came out colder this time, edged with something that dared him to keep going.

Rumple tilted his head. “Strange,” he mused. “For someone who claims not to care, you seem rather invested.”

Regina let out a sharp, humorless laugh, turning away like she refused to even entertain it. “Invested? In her?” She scoffed. “She’s reckless, insufferable, and has a talent for ruining perfectly good plans.”

A beat.

Her gaze flicked—just once—back to Emma.

“She made her choice.”

Rumple watched her, unconvinced.

“And yet,” he hummed, “here you are.”

Regina’s hands curled at her sides. “I am not—” she cut herself off, irritation flaring. “This isn’t about her. It’s about control. About not letting outside forces dictate what happens in my kingdom.”

“Ah,” Rumple said softly. “Of course.”

Control.

Always control.

Regina exhaled sharply through her nose, pacing once before stopping short, like she was arguing with something she refused to name.

“I don’t love her,” she said flatly. Final. Like a verdict.

Rumple’s smile didn’t waver.

“Didn’t say you did, dearie.”

That only seemed to make it worse.

She tried magic first.

Purple light snapped from her hands, reaching for Emma like a tether—something to pull, to anchor, to force her back.

Nothing.

No reaction. No shift. Just stillness.

Regina’s jaw tightened.

Fine.

She tried again, sharper this time. Less finesse, more command—like if she pushed hard enough, the universe would stop arguing with her.

Still nothing.

Her breathing changed slightly, controlled but tighter at the edges.

“Of course,” she muttered.

Next attempt—something else.

She closed her eyes and reached for Emma’s mind, the way she had before when she saw her in danger. She tried slipping into that borrowed awareness, expecting resistance, expecting something—

Black.

Empty.

No flicker. No echo. No connection.

Her eyes snapped open.

A flash of irritation crossed her face before she buried it under something colder.

“No,” she said flatly, like Emma had chosen this out of spite.

She paced once.

Twice.

Like movement alone could generate a solution.

Then—

She conjured a bucket of water and dropped over Emma.

Nothing.

Regina went still.

A beat.

Then she lifted her hand and dried Emma instantly with a flick of magic—precise, automatic, almost thoughtless.

Like correcting an inconvenience.

Another spell. Runes now—stabilization, connection reinforcement, alignment—

Nothing.

Her patience thinned.

She tapped Emma’s cheek once.

Then again.

Harder.

Behind her, Rumple let out a long, suffering sigh.

“Oh no,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is… this is spiraling into very dramatic denial behavior.”

Regina didn’t turn.

“There’s no denial. Just a failure of magical mechanics,” she said crisply.

“Mhm,” Rumple replied, too quickly. “Yes. Totally just mechanics. Nothing emotionally charged about this at all.”

“It’s not emotionally charged,” Regina snapped. Then, sharper— “Would you like me to prove it?”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

Regina dropped back to her knees beside Emma, but her eyes flicked up to Rumple first—cool, certain, defiant.

“Nothing is going to happen.”

Then she turned back.

And kissed her.

The kiss wasn’t hesitant.

It wasn’t soft with uncertainty or blurred by distraction.

It was deliberate.

Measured.

Proving a point.

Her lips pressed to Emma’s—long enough to be intentional, controlled enough to mean nothing.

And for a second—

nothing did happen.

Then—

a wave of iridescent light burst outward, filling the room in a sudden pulse.

Emma’s lashes fluttered.

Her eyes opened—

just for a breath—

—and then slipped closed again as the curse dragged her back under.

The light vanished as quickly as it came.

Silence.

Regina pulled back, her composure cracking just slightly as her brows knit together.

“What,” she said slowly, leaning back on her heels, “the actual hell was that?”

Behind her, Rumple giggled.

“Not nothing, dearie.”

Regina pushed to her feet in one sharp motion, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

“Either way, it didn’t work.” Her chin lifted, just slightly—like she’d been right all along.

Rumple hummed.

“Didn’t it?” he mused, circling Emma slowly, fingers brushing his chin as though studying a particularly interesting puzzle. “Because from where I’m standing, it looked an awful lot like it did…”

He paused near Emma’s side, glancing between them.

“…or at the very least, like it should have.”

A beat.

His head tilted.

“But only for a moment,” he added softly, almost to himself. “Now why would that be?”

Regina’s expression tightened.

“It was a fluke, inconsistent,” she said flatly. “That’s all.”

Rumple’s smile widened, just slightly.

“Mmm. Funny thing about inconsistency,” he murmured. “It usually means there’s a variable you’re not accounting for.”

Regina rose to her feet, folding her arms with deliberate precision.“Then stop speaking in riddles,” she snapped. “If you know what it is, say it.”

Rumple rocked back on his heels, considering her.

“I could,” he said lightly. “But I’ll need something from you first.”

Her glare sharpened. “And what exactly would that be?”

His gaze drifted—slow, searching—until it landed on the vanity.

A pleased little hum.

“An item of yours,” he said.

Regina’s eyes followed his, settling on the brush. She had leant it out to Emma when she arrived in the enchanted forest.

“No,” she said immediately.

Rumple’s brows lifted. “No?”

“You’re not taking anything from me,” she replied, voice cooling further.

“It’s a hairbrush, dearie,” he said, almost amused. “Not your firstborn.” He gave a small, careless shrug. “And I imagine you’d prefer answers over… speculation.”

Silence stretched between them.

Regina didn’t move. Didn’t soften.

But her gaze flicked, just once more, to the brush.

Calculating.

Without another thought, Regina snatched the brush from the vanity and thrust it into his hands.

“Fine,” she snapped. “What do you think happened?”

Rumple turned it over between his fingers, studying it like it had personally offended him.

“There’s a piece missing,” he said at last.

Regina didn’t let him get any further. “I gave up my favorite hairbrush for that?” Her brow arched sharply.

Rumple clicked his tongue. “Would you like the rest of the thought… or your hairbrush back?”

Her lips pressed into a thin, impatient line.

She said nothing.

“Thought so.”

He began to pace, the brush dangling loosely from his hand.

“Magic like that,” he went on, “isn’t just about power—it’s about structure. Alignment.” He made a small, vague motion in the air, like setting something into place. “Think of your heart as… something you’ve been piecing together yourself.”

Regina’s expression didn’t change—but she didn’t interrupt.

“You’ve done quite well, all things considered,” Rumple added, almost pleasantly. “Most of it is intact. Functional. Convincing, even.”

A beat.

“But not complete.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed.

“Miss Swan is a part,” he continued, “but not the missing piece.”

That landed.

“She fits,” he said simply. “Exactly where she’s meant to.”

Another small pause.

“But if the structure she’s fitting into is… compromised,” he tilted his head slightly, “then it won’t hold. Not for long.”

Regina let out a short, disbelieving breath.

“You think I’m the problem?” she asked coolly. “How do you know she’s not the one missing something?”

Rumple’s smile deepened, eyes narrowing with quiet amusement.

“Do you really want the answer to that, dearie?”

The queen rolled her eyes, letting out a sharp huff.

She knew Emma well enough by now to know she wasn’t perfect—but she was… solid. Especially where it mattered. Emma didn’t pretend. What she lacked, she owned.

Regina’s jaw tightened.

“So,” she said, the word edged with reluctance, “how exactly am I supposed to figure out what this… missing piece is?”

Rumple’s grin turned almost sympathetic—almost.

“That,” he said with a soft chuckle, “is something you’ll have to look inside yourself to find.”

He winced playfully.

“Yes, I know,” he added, tilting his head with a grimace. “Not your preferred method.”

Regina’s glare could have burned through stone.

“Best of luck with that, dearie.”

And just like that, he vanished in a puff of smoke.

Regina just stood there, looking into the emptiness of the room but not really looking at anything. 

How was she supposed to find a part of herself that she didn’t even know was missing?

She busied herself while her brain buzzed, lifting Emma off the floor and onto the bed, murmuring something about her waking up and blaming Regina for her sore back. 

She tidied up the room a bit, opened the curtains to let light in. 

Then after some fatigue of busying herself, she sat next to Emma on the bed.

A sigh slipped out before she could stop it.

“You are exhausting,” she muttered.

Emma didn’t answer.

Of course she didn’t.

Regina’s gaze lingered a moment too long on her face.

Without thinking, she reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from Emma’s cheek.

The motion was slow. Careless in a way Regina absolutely was not.

“This is such savior behavior,” she added quietly, like Emma could still hear her. “Always so determined to fix things you don’t understand.”

A faint, humorless huff.

“Arrogant. Impulsive. Infuriatingly—”

She stopped.

Her throat tightened on the last word, like it didn’t want to leave.

Regina exhaled through her nose, shaking her head as if to clear it.

“And yet you still managed to turn everything upside down,” she murmured.

Her thumb drifted once over Emma’s cheek—meant to be dismissive. Meant to be nothing.

Then, almost as if she were trying to prove something she didn’t fully understand, Regina leaned in and kissed her again.

This time it was different.

Measured. Controlled. Intentional—like if she just did it right, she could force the same result.

Nothing.

No light. No flicker. No shift.

Just silence.

Regina pulled back slowly, her brows knitting as she stared down at Emma.

“What was different?” she muttered under her breath. “Why—”

Her jaw tightened.

Why couldn’t she even get a flicker this time?

Her thoughts drifted—uninvited—to that night on horseback.

Emma’s voice, steady and certain:

“Anything but make the nineteen-year-old version of you happy.”

Regina’s gaze unfocused slightly.

Nineteen.

Before Daniel. Before Snow.

Before everything had… hardened.

What had she wanted back then?

Not what her mother expected. Not what the kingdom demanded.

What had she wanted?

The answer didn’t come easily.

Because the truth was—she’d never really been allowed to ask.

Her future had always been decided for her. Shaped, directed, controlled long before she ever had the chance to want anything for herself.

Until Daniel.

He’d been the first crack in that certainty. The first time she’d even considered a future that belonged to her—something chosen, not assigned.

Something that made her happy simply because it did.

Just… hers.

Regina swallowed, something tight and unfamiliar settling in her chest.

Then there was Emma.

She had chosen Henry. Chosen him fully—without hesitation, without permission. She hadn’t let anyone dictate what her life would be, and she loved with a kind of reckless certainty Regina didn’t understand.

Or maybe… refused to.

Regina sat with that for a moment, something unfamiliar settling in her chest.

Then, quieter this time, she leaned in again—but instead of her lips, she pressed a soft kiss to Emma’s cheek. Almost absentminded. Uncalculated.

And—

there it was.

A flicker.

Iridescent light shimmered between them, softer than before but undeniable.

Emma’s eyes fluttered open just long enough to find Regina’s.

And smile.

Then the light vanished.

Her eyes slipped shut again, the curse pulling her back under like it hadn’t happened at all.

Regina stilled.

Then a low, frustrated sound tore from her throat.

“What am I missing?”

Chapter Text

Regina didn’t bother knocking.

She had spent months trying to figure out what she was missing, how to wake Emma without diving too deep on what that meant for her.

The doors to Rumple’s castle slammed open, the sound echoing through the chamber as she strode in, fury sharp in every step.

“I need to get her to her son,” she announced.

Rumple didn’t look up.

“You ever heard of knocking?” he drawled.

“If I get her to her son,” Regina continued, like he hadn’t spoken, “he can wake her. No sacrifice. No… complications.” A beat. “And I don’t lose control of the kingdom.”

That got a quiet chuckle out of him.

“Funny you should mention that.”

He swirled something together in a small glass vial, watching the liquid catch the light.

“I believe I have just the thing.”

Regina stepped closer immediately. “Then use it.”

Rumple shook his head, almost fondly.

“Oh, it’s not quite that simple, dearie.” He lifted the vial slightly, inspecting it. “This will get her to her son, yes… but it won’t do a thing unless she’s woken first.”

He glanced at her then—pointed.

“By her twin flame.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “I am not her twin flame.”

“Mmm.” He turned the vial slowly between his fingers. “You do keep saying that.”

He crossed the room, placing it carefully into a glass cabinet lined with similar bottles—each one catching the light like a secret.

“Ever consider,” he added lightly, “that might be part of the problem?”

Regina’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t come here for commentary,” she snapped. “I came to you for a solution.”

Rumple hummed, clearly unconcerned. “Yes,” he said. “You do seem to be doing that rather often lately, don’t you?”

When Regina just glared at him, he rolled his eyes. “If you’re still looking for the missing piece I’ll give you some free advice.” 

He stood with his hands behind his back, eyes fixed on her gaze. “You’ve come to the wrong person.” He slowly walked a circle around her. “Now if only there were someone who specialized in a magic that could pull things from people’s hidden memeories…” he mused teasingly.

Regina raised a brow at him with a disbelieving huff. “You want me to find a Shadow Witch?”

“There’s only one way to get to the core of the problem, dearie.” He turned his back and started to walk away. “Take the advice or don’t. The choice is yours.”

Regina let out a sharp, impatient breath and turned on her heel, leaving just as dramatically as she’d entered. The doors slammed behind her with a finality that didn’t quite match the storm in her chest.

—

So all she had to do was find a shadow witch.

Simple.

If you ignored the fact that she’d spent her entire life avoiding them.

Shadow witches didn’t deal in surface magic. They dug—deep. Past defenses, past lies, past the neat little stories people told themselves to stay intact. They dragged things into the light that were meant to stay buried.

Memories. Feelings. Truths.

And worse—none of it worked unless you were willing to face it.

Regina had built an entire life around not doing that.

Her jaw tightened.

Was she really considering this? Seeking out a shadow witch—for Emma?

For the Savior.

She didn’t even love her.

At least… that’s what she told herself.

Her steps slowed.

And even if she did find whatever piece Rumple insisted she was missing… why would she want Emma back?

This was the plan. Had always been the plan.

Wasn’t it?

She chewed absently on her lip during the ride back, the reins loose in her hands, her thoughts louder than the sound of hooves against the ground.

By the time the castle came into view, something had shifted.

It felt… wrong.

Too quiet. Too still.

The place had always been large—imposing, even—but now it felt hollow. Like the walls stretched a little farther than they used to. Like something had been removed and the space hadn’t quite figured out how to exist without it.

She knew exactly what it was.

Regina didn’t slow as she made her way inside. Didn’t hesitate as she pushed open Emma’s door.

Arms crossed, she stared at the sleeping figure on the bed—like sheer force of will might be enough to wake her. Or scold her into it.

“I hate you for this,” she hissed. “The sleeping curse. I hope you know that.”

Silence answered her.

Regina held it for a moment… then exhaled sharply.

“And I’m not doing this for you,” she added, more quickly now. “I’m doing it for me.”

Her chin lifted slightly.

“I’ll be more powerful this way. Stronger.” A pause. “Whole.”

The word sat there, heavier than the rest.

She didn’t question it.

Didn’t look too closely at why it felt… true.

With that, she turned on her heel and started her search.

—

It took weeks.

Not because shadow witches were rare—but because most of them took one look at her and assumed it was a trick. A test. A joke at their expense.

More than one had laughed.

Regina didn’t.

But she kept looking.

Until finally—

She found one.

Chapter Text

The Shadow Witch was older, her curly hair a blend of silver and blonde, pinned up in a way that looked careless at first glance—until you realized every strand was exactly where it meant to be.

Before a word was spoken, Regina felt it.

Not power, exactly.

Something sharper. Clearer.

A presence that didn’t bend, didn’t impress, didn’t perform. No nonsense, But not cold.

There was something else there too—something quieter. Like humor that didn’t need to announce itself.

Regina straightened slightly.

For the first time in weeks—

she felt like she might have found what she was looking for.

“Lilia,” the woman offered her name before Regina could speak. “Please—have a seat.”

She smiled like this moment had already happened, like Regina was simply arriving on time.

Regina hesitated only a second before sitting.

The space felt… strange. Not threatening or imposing— just alive.

Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with bottled herbs and small vials that caught the light. Divination tools lay scattered in a way that looked careless until you realized it wasn’t. The windows were thrown open, warm air drifting through as butterflies wandered in and out like they belonged there.

Lilia disappeared briefly, then returned with two cups of tea. She handed one to Regina before taking the seat across from her.

“I knew this day would come,” she said, almost casually. “I always wondered when.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re a seer.”

Lilia tilted her head, considering. “You could call it that.”

She took a sip of her tea, then set it down with quiet precision.

“So,” she said, studying Regina now. “What brings you here?”

Regina didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“I’m missing something,” she said. “A piece of myself.” A small pause. “I want to be… whole.”

Lilia’s gaze sharpened, searching her face.

“Do you?” she asked gently. “Because you’re willing, yes—but willingness and honesty aren’t always the same thing.” A beat. “Ask yourself… is it for the right reason?”

Regina’s jaw tightened.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she replied coolly. “Isn’t that enough?”

A soft laugh slipped from Lilia.

“No,” she said simply. “It isn’t.”

Regina’s chin lifted a fraction.

“I believe it will make me more powerful,” she said. “If I understand every part of myself—if there’s nothing left hidden—then there’s nothing left to use against me.”

Lilia hummed, not disagreeing.

“You’re not wrong,” she said. “It will give you power.”

A small pause.

“But not the kind you think you’re looking for.”

Lilia drew in a slow breath, her gaze steady. “We can find the answers,” she said. “But only if you’re honest with yourself. Not… what you think people expect. Not what sounds right. Just the truth.”

Regina straightened slightly, tension flickering through her shoulders.

She didn’t like that.

Didn’t like the implication that she wasn’t already being honest. But … no one had ever framed it that way before.

Honesty, not as strength—but as exposure.

Her jaw set.

What the hell.

She was the Queen. She had faced armies, curses, enemies far worse than this. A little honesty wasn’t going to be the thing that broke her.

And she certainly wasn’t going to let it stop her.

Across from her, Lilia smiled—subtle, but knowing.

“There it is,” she said softly. “You’re ready.”

Regina gave a single, sharp nod.

Lilia extended her hands.

After only a brief hesitation, Regina placed her own in them.

“We’ve already begun,” Lilia said gently. “The potion’s in the tea.”

Regina’s brows twitched—but she didn’t pull away.

“Close your eyes,” Lilia continued. “And we’ll navigate your shadow realm together.”

Darkness swallowed them whole.

Chapter Text

Regina’s first instinct in the pitch blackness was control.

“Alright, show me what I came for,” she commanded.

Nothing.

A quiet voice beside her—

“You don’t get to command this place.”

Lilia.

Regina’s jaw tightened. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Watch.”

The darkness shifted.

Light bled in slowly, forming something familiar—

Stables.

A younger version of herself stood there, laughing—laughing—hair loose, hands dirty, completely unbothered.

Regina frowned.

“This is pointless.” She moved as if she could go on to the next memory. 

“Stay,” Lilia said gently.

The girl spoke—voice bright, unguarded.

“I just want to see the world. To travel, have adventures.” 

The words echoed.

Regina’s expression hardened. “She didn’t know any better.”

The scene fractured.

Cold replaced warmth.

Her mother’s voice—sharp, controlled.

“You don’t get to want things like other people do.”

Regina flinched despite herself. “That made me stronger,” she said quickly.

“Did it?” Lilia asked.

The world shifted again.

Daniel.

Hope. Escape. Choice.

For a moment—everything Regina had wanted within reach.

Then—

gone.

Regina’s breath caught, her hands curling into fists.

Silence followed.

Heavy.

Lilia’s voice came softer this time.

“That was the last time you chose something for yourself… without expecting to lose it. Isn’t it?”

Regina’s chest tightened. “I learned from that,” she said, sharper now. “I adapted.”

“Yes,” Lilia said. “You did.”

A pause.

Suddenly—

Emma’s voice slipped into the space, overlapping everything else.

Laughter. Light. Unrestrained.

Emma choosing. Emma wanting—without hesitation, without calculation.

“Carefree, isn’t she?” Lilia murmured, one brow lifting as she observed.

Regina’s gaze lingered on the memory. “She is,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how she does it.”

The scene shifted.

Emma talked about henry this time—more grounded, more real.

“I don’t really have a plan,” she’d said with a shrug. “I’m kinda just… figuring it out as I go.”

A small scoff escaped Regina before she could stop it, something softer threatening at the edges. “She’s not even worried about something that consequential.”

Lilia hummed, thoughtful.

“Because she can’t control it,” she said simply. “And when she can’t control something… she lets it be.”

Regina didn’t respond.

But something in her stilled.

The memory shifted again—

Emma, outside the castle gates, dropping to her knees beside the boy she saved. No hesitation. No calculation. Just action.

Lilia let out a quiet, knowing laugh. “She’s been on your mind quite a bit, hasn’t she?”

There was a tease in it—light, but unmistakable.

Regina shifted slightly. “How could she not be?” she replied, a touch too sharp. “She’s a threat to my reign—and currently under a sleeping curse in my castle.”

Lilia only hummed.

Regina’s gaze narrowed, studying Emma in the memory. “She had control there,” she said. “What was there to let go?”

“I think that’s exactly it,” Lilia replied. “She saw something she could do—and she did it.” A small pause. “Even if she couldn’t control what came after.”

Regina’s brows knit, something not quite clicking—

Until the memory shifted again.

This time, it wasn’t Emma.

It was Snow.

The woods. Regina’s disguise. The moment Regina had expected her own army to cut off her head—and instead found… something else.

Grace.

Snow saving her.

Believing, however briefly, that Regina could be more than what she was.

Regina’s expression tightened as the memory settled in.

“I don’t want to see this one,” she said sharply, like she could redirect it by force alone.

Lilia didn’t flinch. “That’s very honest of you,” she said gently. “And not easy.”

The world shifted anyway.

The village.

Smoke. Fire. The aftermath of her own command.

Snow stood there—frozen, horrified—as the truth set in. Not just what Regina had done… but what it meant.

The belief cracked first.

Then it shattered.

That brief, impossible hope—that Regina could be something else—gone in an instant.

Regina felt it all over again. Not the anger.

The loss.

Something had ended that day. Not just Snow’s faith in her—but something quieter. Deeper.

The part of her that had believed anyone could love her. That she could be forgiven. That there was still a version of her worth choosing.

She had buried it.

Buried it so completely she’d stopped noticing the absence.

Regina went very still.

Oh.

There it was.

Not power.

Not even control.

It was that.

The part of her that believed she could want something—and still be worthy of having it.

The part that believed she could be chosen… without forcing it.

 “That’s it, isn’t it?” Lilia asked as the memory stilled, no new one taking its place. “Snow stopped believing there was good in you… and you did too.”

She tilted her head slightly, watching Regina carefully.

“You stopped letting anything ‘good’ come into your life,” she said gently. “Because you decided ‘good’ wasn't something you were.”

A tear slipped down Regina’s cheek before she could stop it.

For a fleeting second, she felt it—

that nineteen-year-old version of herself.

Vulnerable. Uncertain. Still capable of wanting.

She hated the feeling. Had swallowed down for so long. 

“I wonder,” Lilia said softly, almost to herself, “if you believed good things had to be earned.” A pause, deliberate. “And since you decided you hadn’t earned them… you stopped allowing yourself to have them at all.”

“If that were true,” Regina said softly, voice cracking. “then I wouldn’t still be standing here listening to you.”

A pause.

“I stopped wanting things I couldn’t keep.”

There it was.

The truth, sitting between them.

Lilia didn’t smile.

Didn’t praise.

She just said—

“Then the question isn’t what you’re missing.”

A beat..

“It’s whether you’re willing to have it back… knowing what it costs.”

Regina didn’t answer. She just stood there, staring at Snow’s horrified expression, frozen in the memory.

Lilia stepped closer, gently taking Regina’s hand and giving it a small, grounding squeeze. “You don’t have to answer that right now,” she said softly. “Just… sit with it.”

A breath passed between them before she released her.

“We should go,” Lilia added, a touch more practical now. “This is a lot for one session. Stay too long, and you risk losing yourself in it.”

Regina gave a distant nod, still somewhere between past and present.

Then she closed her eyes.

The world shifted—

and with a steady pull, Lilia guided them both out of the shadow realm.

Chapter Text

Regina’s eyes opened to the quiet warmth of Lilia’s living room.

For a moment, she just sat there—orienting, grounding—until her gaze lifted and met Lilia’s.

“So,” Lilia asked softly, “what now?”

Regina reached up, brushing her fingers along her cheek. The tear was real. That surprised her more than anything.

“I…” She exhaled, steadying herself. “I have to go back.”

Lilia nodded, like she’d expected nothing else. “You do still have work to do, Regina.”

“I know.” Regina rose to her feet, fastening her cloak with practiced precision. “I’ll come back. For more sessions.”

A small, satisfied smile touched Lilia’s lips. “Good.”

A pause.

“Regina?”

Regina had already turned toward the door, but she glanced back. “Yes?”

“I won’t remember you,” Lilia said gently. “Not like this. But I’ll still be able to help you.”

Regina’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

Lilia’s smile softened. “Some things don’t require memory to recognize.” A beat. “Just know I’ll be glad to help you again.”

Regina studied her for a moment—then gave a single, quiet nod.

“Thank you.”

She turned and stepped out into the open air.

The woman who walked through that door hours ago had been certain of who she was.

The one who left… wasn’t quite as sure.

And for once, she was okay with that.

—

She rode hard—leaning low over the horse’s neck, wind cutting past her as she pushed for more speed. Fingers tight in the reins, posture coiled, focused on one thing.

Getting back.

The moment they burst through the castle gates, she didn’t wait. Regina swung down before the horse had fully stopped, thrusting the reins into a guard’s hands without breaking stride.

She was already moving—through the courtyard, up the steps, down familiar corridors that suddenly felt too long.

Emma’s door.

Regina shoved it open and crossed the room in seconds.

By the time she reached the bed, her breath was uneven, chest rising and falling as if she’d outrun something more than distance.

She dropped to her knees beside her, the urgency softening just slightly as her hand lifted—

fingers brushing a strand of blonde hair back from Emma’s face.

“This is ridiculous,” Regina muttered, brushing her thumb along Emma’s cheek like she could smooth this whole mess away. “You cause chaos, ignore reason, refuse to follow a single instruction—and somehow I’m the one left cleaning up after you.”

A small breath.

“I should let you sleep. It would solve everything.”

She paused, studying her.

“But I don’t want everything solved like that.”

Softer now—

“And I don’t… want this world without you in it.”

And then Regina leaned in—and kissed her.

Not rushed. Not tentative.

Certain.

There was no hesitation in it this time, no fight left in her to deny what she wanted. Just a quiet acceptance—of the choice, of the risk, of her.

Light bloomed around them.

Iridescent, warm—spreading outward in a soft pulse that seemed to echo straight through Regina’s chest.

Emma gasped as she woke.

Regina pulled back just enough to see her, breath uneven—like she hadn’t quite caught up yet. Relief hit a second later, softer, almost disbelieving, a small laugh slipping out before she could stop it.

Her head tilted slightly, eyes searching.

“Hi,” she breathed.

Emma blinked—once, twice—still catching up, then let out a breath that turned into a quiet laugh.

“Hi.”

They didn’t move.

Just stared—like neither of them were entirely sure what had just happened… or maybe they were, and that was worse.

Emma’s gaze dipped—quick, involuntary—to Regina’s lips before snapping back up, heat rising in her cheeks.

“Okay…” she murmured, a hint of a grin breaking through. “So—”

Regina’s brow lifted slightly, the ghost of a smile still there. “So?”

Emma tilted her head, reaching up a little more carefully this time, brushing a strand of dark hair behind Regina’s ear.

“Do I get to kiss you back?”

Regina’s smile curved—still sharp, still her—but softer around the edges.

“You tell me.”

Emma held her gaze for a second too long—

like she was trying to make sure this was real.

“Okay,” she said softly, mostly to herself.

She leaned in—

and paused just shy of Regina’s lips, breath catching like she’d forgotten the last step.

Her hand came up, hovered awkwardly between Regina’s shoulder and her face, then settled somewhere in between, fingers brushing her jaw a little uncertainly.

Close.

“Sorry—” she murmured, barely a whisper, a small, self-conscious smile flickering—

and then she closed the distance.

The kiss landed a touch off-center at first, more instinct than precision, but she adjusted almost immediately, softening into it.

Regina huffed the faintest breath against her lips—something caught between a laugh and surprise—but she didn’t pull away.

Neither of them did.

When they finally parted, it was only by a breath’s distance. Their foreheads stayed resting together, still close enough that neither seemed in any hurry to correct it.

Regina’s eyes drifted closed again, head tilting slightly as she bit her lower lip—just enough to betray the hint of a smile she wasn’t fully willing to show.

“I was hoping you’d figure it out,” Emma murmured, still a little breathless.

A beat lingered between them—soft, suspended—

like they might lean in again.

Then—

a puff of smoke exploded at the far end of the room.

Emma startled back slightly.

Regina’s eyes snapped open, instantly unimpressed.

Rumplestiltskin stepped out of the smoke with an obnoxiously pleased grin.

“A little birdie told me someone broke a curse,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Congratulations—and you’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome?” Regina repeated, brows knitting in immediate disgust.

“Yes, dearie,” he said brightly. “You see, there’s still the pesky issue of time. But with Emma asleep and your… emotional setbacks,” he added, clearly delighted with himself, “it gave me just enough time to make this.”

He produced a small vial filled with a deep plum-colored liquid.

Emma’s expression shifted immediately. “What is that?”

“Oh, nothing dramatic,” Rumple said. “Just a little cocktail of magic—your,” he paused, not wanting to be the one to break the news on the whole twin flame thing. “—brand of true love magic… with a dash of magic bean.” He held it out between them. “A way home.”

Emma glanced at Regina.

Regina glanced back.

Neither of them reached for it right away.

“What do you get out of it?” Emma narrowed her eyes cautiously. 

“Enough to make dozens of these potions to use how I like.” His impish giggle came through. 

Regina let out a half breath half laugh. “That’s a terrifying thought.” 

Rumple sighed theatrically. “I do all this for free and not even a single thanks” He rolled his eyes—

and disappeared in another puff of smoke.

Leaving the vial—and the silence—behind.

The two of them looked at the vial—then at each other.

“Right…” Regina said quietly. “You need to get home.”

She should have sounded relieved.

Instead, it came out like something else entirely.

Emma reached for her hand, turning it gently in her grip and brushing her thumb over the back of it. “I do,” she said softly. “I have to get back to Henry.”

Silence settled between them again, heavier this time.

Regina exhaled through her nose, gaze dropping for a moment before she forced it steady.

“I know how much you love ruling this kingdom,” Emma said carefully. “But I have to ask… would you ever consider coming with m—”

“Yes.”

Regina didn’t even let her finish.

Emma blinked, a slow smile forming as she searched her face. “Yes?”

Regina answered by stepping in and kissing her—quick, certain, like she refused to give herself time to reconsider.

“Yes,” she murmured against Emma’s lips.

A soft laugh slipped out of Emma as they parted just enough to speak. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Regina didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, her gaze dropped to where their fingers were still intertwined, like she was only now fully accepting it.

“This kingdom…” she said quietly, almost to herself, “has nothing left that brings me joy.”

Her eyes lifted again, steadier now.

“I could use a fresh start. Somewhere no one knows me as the Evil Queen.” A pause. “I want to ride motorcycles. I want to play skee ball. I want to travel.”

Emma tilted her head slightly, searching her face like she didn’t want to mishear her. “You would give up all of this… your power… for that?”

A beat.

“For me?”

Regina held Emma’s gaze for a long moment, thumb still tracing the back of her hand.

“It isn’t giving it up,” she said quietly. “It’s choosing something else. Something I can finally admit that I want.”

A pause.

“And I’m done confusing power with having something worth protecting.”

They stayed there for a beat, close enough that neither of them seemed willing to create distance again—Emma’s hands resting at Regina’s waist, Regina’s still settled at Emma’s shoulders like she’d decided they belonged there.

“Wow,” Emma let out a quiet laugh, a little breathless. “Either I was asleep for a really long time… or you really missed me.”

Regina huffed a soft laugh, head tilting just slightly. “A little of both,” she admitted. A pause. “And I will finally concede that.”

That was all the space they gave it.

The next kiss came differently.

Less careful. More certain.

Like all the words they hadn’t said had finally run out of places to hide.

Regina’s hands slid to the back of Emma’s neck, drawing her in until there was no space left between them. Emma answered instantly, fingers tightening at Regina’s waist, pulling her closer like she needed to be sure she was still there.

The kiss deepened—slow at first, then not.

Regina shifted the angle just enough to pull a soft, involuntary sound from Emma, and that seemed to be all the encouragement she needed. Her grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt—just enough to anchor.

Emma felt it everywhere—the warmth, the pressure, the way Regina held her like she’d already decided this wasn’t something she was letting go of again. Her hands moved without thinking, sliding up Regina’s back, pressing her closer until there was nothing left between them but heat and breath.

When Regina’s fingers slipped into her hair, Emma’s breath caught sharply.

Then the world narrowed.

Just this.

Just her.

They broke apart only because they had to, both of them breathing a little unevenly now, foreheads resting together—close enough that every exhale brushed the other’s lips.

“I’ve wanted—” Emma started, voice unsteady.

Regina didn’t let her finish.

She kissed her again—slower this time, but deeper. Intentional in a different way.

“I know,” she murmured against her lips. “I have too.”

Emma let out a soft laugh, still catching her breath. “I like this,” she said quietly. “You admitting what you want.”

“Do you?” Regina’s lips curved, something mischievous threading through the softness now. “Careful. I might have more to admit.”

Her voice dropped just slightly as her lips brushed along Emma’s jaw—slow enough to make it deliberate.

Then her neck.

Light at first—barely there—before her mouth pressed more firmly, just enough to make Emma’s breath hitch again, sharper this time.

Emma’s head tipped back without permission, fingers tightening in Regina’s hair as if to steady herself—or maybe to keep her there.

“Regina…” she breathed, the name slipping out before she could think better of it.

Regina’s lips curved faintly against her skin—pleased, knowing—before she pulled back just enough to look at her.

“Seems,” she murmured, voice low, edged with something unmistakably satisfied, “you might have some admitting to do as well.”

Chapter Text

Regina packed a small bag while Emma hovered nearby, repeatedly insisting she wouldn’t need half the things she was bringing.

“You realize no one wears gowns where we’re going, right?” Emma asked, watching Regina carefully fold another dress.

Regina didn’t even look up. “And yet, I’m bringing them anyway.”

Emma huffed a laugh beneath her breath.

Eventually Regina closed the bag and stood facing away from the blonde, fingers lingering on the clasp a moment too long.

Quiet settled over the room.

Emma noticed the shift immediately.

“What?” she asked softly.

Regina didn’t answer at first. Her brows furrowed slightly, gaze fixed somewhere distant.

“What if this doesn’t last forever?” she asked finally, voice quieter than before. “What do we do then?”

The certainty she’d carried earlier had thinned around the edges.

Emma stepped closer, gently turning Regina toward her, one hand settling at her waist while the other brushed a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“I can’t promise forever,” Emma admitted softly. “I don’t think anybody really can.”

Her forehead rested lightly against Regina’s.

“But I know whatever time I get with you will matter.” A small breath of a laugh. “That’s enough for me to take the risk.”

Regina’s eyes lowered briefly.

Emma’s thumb brushed slowly over her cheek.

“I’ve spent most of my life expecting people to leave,” Emma continued quietly. “So I stopped trusting things before they could matter too much.” A pause. “But you…” Her lips curved faintly. “You’re worth risking that.”

Something in Regina softened at that, though uncertainty still lingered behind it.

“I just…” She exhaled slowly. “What if I hate your world?”

“Then we figure something else out,” Emma said simply.

Regina’s brows knit together. “Emma.”

“What?”

“You’re saying that like we can just come back whenever we please.” Regina pulled back enough to look at her fully. “The potion only works one way.”

The room quieted again.

That reality settled heavier between them than either had wanted to acknowledge.

Emma’s expression faltered slightly before smoothing back out. “Okay,” she said carefully. “Then we really think about this.”

“I am thinking about it,” Regina replied, frustration threading beneath the nerves now. “Once I leave, that’s it. There’s no guarantee I'll ever see this realm again.”

Emma nodded slowly.

“And if I hate it?” Regina continued. “If your world hates me? If Henry hates me?”

Emma immediately shook her head. “Henry’s not going to hate you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.”

Regina gave her a look that clearly said that’s not convincing enough.

Emma sighed softly and sat beside her on the bed.

“Honestly?” she admitted. “He’d probably think you’re cool.”

That startled the faintest laugh out of Regina.

“I’m serious,” Emma insisted, smiling now. “The kid is obsessed with fairytales. Evil queens included.”

“That’s… mildly concerning.”

“He contains multitudes.”

Regina’s smile faded into something more uncertain again, her gaze dropping to their joined hands.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted quietly. “The mother thing.”

Emma’s expression softened instantly.

“No one does. Not really.”

Regina swallowed once before continuing. “Henry is everything to you.” Her fingers tightened slightly around Emma’s hand. “And if he hates me…”

The rest stayed unspoken.

Emma turned toward her fully then, one hand coming up to cradle her jaw.

“Hey,” she said gently, waiting until Regina met her eyes again. “Henry cares about one thing more than anything else in the world.”

Regina’s brows lifted slightly.

“Me being happy.”

A small pause.

“And Henry…” Emma smiled faintly to herself. “He’s not like most kids. He notices things. Understands people better than most adults, honestly.”

Regina huffed softly. “That sounds exhausting.”

“Oh, it is.”

That earned another small smile.

Emma brushed her thumb across Regina’s cheek again, softer this time.

“He’s gonna see you the same way I do,” she said quietly.

Regina’s eyes flicked up to hers. “And how’s that?” Heart thundering a little louder at the question than she’d liked. 

Emma’s smile turned warmer.

“Like someone worth choosing.”

Something twisted sharply in Regina’s chest at that.

No one had looked at her that way in a very long time.

Not since her father.

Not since Daniel.

Before she could think too hard about it, her hand slid behind Emma’s neck and pulled her into a fierce kiss—sudden, emotional, almost desperate in its intensity.

Emma made a soft sound against her lips, immediately kissing her back.

By the time they pulled apart, Regina hadn’t even realized a tear had slipped free until Emma brushed it away gently with her thumb.

A soft smile tugged at the blonde’s lips.

“You really aren’t the same queen you were when I went under the curse.”

Regina let out a quiet breath, tilting her head slightly. “Let’s just say I was… forced into some aggressive soul-searching.”

Emma laughed softly. “Yeah, that usually does it.”

There was something knowing in the way she said it.

Regina noticed immediately.

Her eyes narrowed just slightly. “You say that like you’ve had experience.”

Emma’s smile faded into something smaller. More honest.

“Honestly?” she admitted. “I avoid that stuff most days.”

Regina’s brows pulled together faintly, unconvinced. “Really?” A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You always seem so… carefree.” Her fingers brushed absently along Emma’s jaw. “Like nothing you uncover about yourself could actually shake you.”

Emma huffed a quiet laugh.

“That’s definitely not true.”

Her gaze drifted briefly somewhere distant.

“I think everybody has parts of themselves they’d rather not look at,” she said softly. “It’s easier pretending those things stay buried if you ignore them long enough.”

Something in Regina stilled at that.

Her head tilted slightly as she studied Emma, like she was suddenly seeing pieces she hadn’t before.

“Yeah,” she murmured quietly. “Just like that.”

And for the first time, Regina got the distinct feeling Emma understood her far more than she let on.

“So,” Emma said, gently steering them back on track, “what if there was a way back someday?” Her thumb brushed over Regina’s hand again. “If you wake up one day and decide you hate me, or we wanna drag Henry back here for holidays or something… we could.”

Regina huffed a soft disbelieving laugh. “Yes, because those opportunities present themselves all the time.” She lifted a brow. “Perhaps a leprechaun will crawl out of a pot of gold and hand us a magical portal.”

Emma narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “I actually don’t know enough about this realm to confidently say that wouldn’t happen.”

That earned her a deeply unimpressed look.

Emma immediately lifted her hands in surrender. “Hey, can you blame me? A few months ago I thought fairytales were fake. Now Snow White’s my mother.”

Regina’s expression softened despite herself. With one curled finger, she tapped lightly beneath Emma’s chin—affectionate, exasperated.

Emma smirked at the reaction and threw her a quick wink. “Okay, fine. What about Stiltskin? He figured out the potion in the first place. Couldn’t he give us another one?”

Regina crossed her arms slowly. “Yes. And in exchange he’d likely ask for something completely reasonable.” Dryly: “Like your firstborn child.”

Emma grimaced. “Right. Forgot he’s terrifying.”

“A wise thing to remember.”

Emma’s smile lingered anyway, softer now. “Still… there has to be somebody, right? Some kind of magic user who could figure it out eventually?”

Regina’s expression shifted slightly at that—not quite hopeful, but no longer entirely closed off to the possibility.

“There might be someone…” Regina mused slowly. “I met a witch who could travel between certain realms.”

Emma’s brows lifted immediately, like the answer was suddenly obvious. “Okay, well that sounds important. What are we waiting for?”

Regina’s expression tightened slightly instead of easing.

“Well…” Her brows furrowed. “The last time I saw her, she said she wouldn’t remember me.”

Emma blinked once. “That’s fine. I’ll go.”

Regina looked almost thrown by how quickly she answered.

“You’ll go,” she repeated carefully.

Emma gave a small shrug, already shifting into problem-solving mode. “Yeah. Worst case scenario, she slams the door in my face. I’ve survived worse.”

“It’s… worth trying, I suppose,” Regina admitted after a beat. “Her name is Lilia. She lives near the northern edge of the Enchanted Forest.”

“Great.” Emma’s hand began to glow faintly with magic. “Anything else I should know before I walk into mysterious forest witch territory?”

Regina stepped closer, brows pinching together. “That’s the problem,” She exhaled. “I have no idea what you’re walking into.”

Emma’s mouth curved immediately.

“What,” she teased gently, “you worried about me or something?”

Regina’s eyes narrowed on instinct, hands planting firmly on her hips.

“Worried?” she repeated with a scoff. “Not remotely.”

As though she hadn’t spent the last several months nearly unraveling over Emma’s existence.

Emma’s grin only widened, clearly unconvinced.

Regina rolled her eyes dramatically—and before Emma could say another word, purple magic flared around them and the Queen sent her away.

In the next instant, Emma vanished.

Chapter Text

Emma reappeared outside Lilia’s cottage with a soft laugh, Regina’s aggressively defensive “Not remotely” still echoing pleasantly in her head.

The cottage looked exactly as she thought it would—whimsical in a way that felt almost unreal. Herbs hung drying beside the windows, butterflies drifted lazily through the garden, and warm light spilled from the crooked little house like it had been expecting company.

Emma stepped forward and knocked firmly on the door.

A moment later, it swung open.

Lilia appeared looking mildly irritated at the interruption—until she saw who stood there.

“Oh.”

A beat passed.

Then the older woman’s expression shifted into something quieter. Almost fond.

“Hello, Emma.”

Emma’s brows furrowed immediately. “Uh… have we met?”

“No,” Lilia said easily. “But I knew you’d be coming.”

“You did?”

Lilia only nodded once, like that part hardly required explanation.

“Yes,” she said simply.

Without another word, she reached just inside the doorway and retrieved something from a nearby table—two braided bracelets woven with dark thread and dried leaves that shimmered faintly with magic.

She held them out.

Emma took them carefully, turning them over in her hands. “What are these?”

“Enchanted bracelets,” Lilia explained. “Braided with the tea leaves Regina used to enter her shadow realm.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “The shadow realm isn’t the only realm they’ll take you.”

Emma blinked. “Okay, hold on—how did you know that’s why I came here?”

Lilia lifted a brow.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, sweetheart.”

The dryness in her tone sounded painfully familiar to Regina’s, honestly.

Emma snorted softly despite herself. “Right. Got it.”

Lilia gave a small nod and started closing the door.

Then paused.

“Oh—and Emma?”

Emma had already started turning away, but glanced back over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

Lilia’s expression grew more serious then.

“You’ll be able to move freely between realms,” she said carefully. “But not without consequences.”

Emma’s smile faded slightly. “Consequences?”

“As long as something still ties you to both worlds,” Lilia explained, “the realms remain connected through you.” A pause. “And connected realms can tear.”

Emma’s brows drew together. “You mean like… portals?”

“I mean entire worlds.”

Silence settled briefly between them.

Then Lilia’s expression softened again, just slightly.

“So try not to break reality,”

And just as Emma opened her mouth to respond—

“One more thing.”

Emma paused.

Lilia leaned lightly against the doorway, studying her with the same knowing look that made it impossible to tell how much she actually saw.

“She loves you, you know.”

Emma blinked.

Lilia waved a dismissive hand before she could respond. “Yes, yes, I know. Very dramatic. Very emotionally constipated about it.” A sigh. “Frankly, it’s been exhausting to witness.”

A laugh escaped Emma before she could stop it.

“But,” Lilia continued, gentler now, “that woman crossed through parts of herself she’s spent decades avoiding… for you.” Her brow lifted slightly. “Do you understand how extraordinary that is?”

Emma’s expression softened.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I think I do.”

Lilia hummed, satisfied enough with that answer.

“Good.” She started closing the door again. “Then go get your queen before she thinks herself out of happiness for the seventeenth time today.”

And with that, the door shut.

Emma’s chest twisted in the best possible way.

She looked down at the bracelets in her hands, biting back a helpless grin.

Then, almost instinctively, magic flared around her—

And the next second, she was back in the castle.

—

Regina heard the familiar puff of magic behind her and turned from the bag she had finally finished packing.

She crossed her arms immediately, brows knitting together at Emma’s expression.

“Well,” she said skeptically, “that was fast.” Her gaze narrowed. “Did she slam the door in your face?”

Emma shook her head, entirely too pleased with herself.

“She did not.”

The grin on her face only widened as she started slowly walking toward Regina.

Regina’s suspicion deepened instantly.

Her eyes narrowed further as she took one cautious step backward, planting a hand against Emma’s chest before she could get any closer.

“Then why,” she asked slowly, “do I suddenly have the distinct feeling you got more than you bargained for?”

Emma hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head. “Well, technically, I didn’t bargain for anything.”

Regina’s brows lifted immediately, deeply skeptical. “You didn’t?”

“No bargaining necessary.” Emma gently caught Regina’s wrist, easing her hand from her chest before settling both of Regina’s hands against her hips and pulling her a little closer.

“But,” Emma continued, grin turning softer around the edges, “I did end up getting more than I came for.”

Regina blinked at her once.

Then twice.

Long dark lashes fluttering with the effort it took not to look affected.

 “What,” she asked carefully, “does that even mean?”

Emma’s smile only deepened.

“It means Lilia’s a very insightful witch.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Emma.”

“What?”

“What did she say to you?”

Emma bit back a grin, clearly enjoying herself now.

“Oh, you know.” She shrugged casually. “Mostly warnings about realm instability, magical consequences—”

“Em-ma,” Regina dragged out the name in warning, growing more frustrated by the second.

Emma’s smile widened immediately.

“I really like hearing you use my actual name.”

Something in her gaze softened as she said it, lingering just long enough that Regina instantly realized this conversation was no longer entirely about Lilia.

Which only made her more suspicious.

“Miss Swan,” Regina corrected with a low growl.

Emma laughed softly. “I’ll tell you when we get to the other realm.”

Then, under her breath—

“When I know Lilia’s safely out of assassination range.”

Regina narrowed her eyes. “I heard that.”

“Good.” Emma nodded seriously. “Would’ve been really embarrassing if I was just talking to myself.”

Regina tried very hard to hold onto her queenly composure.

But there was something about Emma’s expression—warm, teasing, impossibly fond—that made a smile slip through anyway.

Annoyed with herself for allowing the smile at all, Regina settled for shoving Emma lightly in the shoulder instead.

Emma caught her wrist before she could pull away completely.

Still grinning, she turned Regina’s hand gently and tied one of Lilia’s bracelets around her wrist before fastening the other around her own.

The motion slowed something between them.

Deliberate.

Careful.

Almost ceremonial.

Regina’s gaze flicked down to the braided thread against her skin, then back up to Emma.

And suddenly the room quieted again.

Not awkward or uncertain.

Just full.

The question and the answer sat between them whether either woman acknowledged it or not.

They both knew what had broken the sleeping curse.

Neither of them said it aloud.

But Emma’s thumb brushed slowly over Regina’s wrist anyway, like maybe they didn’t need the words quite yet.

Chapter Text

“Ready?” Emma asked softly, holding the potion bottle open between them.

Regina gave a single nod.

She clutched her bag a little too tightly, looking less like someone leaving for a new life and more like someone preparing for war.

Emma noticed.

But instead of calling attention to it, she just offered a small reassuring smile before pouring the plum-colored liquid onto the floor.

The magic reacted instantly.

A swirling purple vortex spiraled open beneath them, wind rushing outward hard enough to whip loose strands of hair around their faces.

Emma reached for Regina’s hand automatically, giving it one firm squeeze.

Then she let go—

And jumped.

The fall twisted around her violently, magic pulling at every inch of her until suddenly—

Ground.

Emma hit hard with a grunt, immediately recognizing the stretch of road around her.

The woods.

Her car.

The yellow Volkswagen Beetle was still lodged nose-first into the tree exactly where she’d left it.

Emma pushed herself upright, brushing dirt from her jacket as she glanced back toward the portal.

Waiting.

One second.

Two.

Five.

No Regina.

Something tight and unpleasant settled into her stomach.

Maybe Regina had changed her mind.

Maybe the reality of leaving had finally hit too hard.

Maybe—

A sharp hiss cut through the silence.

Emma blinked and looked toward the car.

Smoke still curled lazily from beneath the hood.

Her brows furrowed.

“That’s… not possible.”

Cautiously, she pulled her phone from her pocket—the same phone that had been completely useless in the Enchanted Forest.

The screen lit instantly.

And the date—

Emma stared at it.

The same.

Not days later.

Not months.

The exact same day she’d crashed.

A strange chill ran down her spine.

It was like she’d never left at all.

Still half suspicious, Emma lifted her hand experimentally, trying to summon even the smallest flicker of magic.

Nothing happened.

No magic.

No warmth.

Just her.

And still no Regina.

Emma exhaled slowly, unease settling heavier in her chest as she opened her phone again.

“Well,” she muttered to herself, “guess I’m calling a tow truck.”

She had just started dialing when the portal burst open again behind her.

Emma spun around—

Just in time to watch Regina emerge from the vortex.

Not stumbling.

Not crashing.

Landing perfectly upright in the middle of the road with impossible grace, cloak settling around her like she’d rehearsed the entrance.

Like crossing dimensions was simply another thing she refused to do badly.

The phone continued ringing in Emma’s ear, but she barely noticed.

All she could do was stare at Regina.

And smile.

Regina tilted her head slightly at the expression, then glanced between Emma and the wrecked car, brows furrowing.

Without a word, she lifted one hand.

A ball of light bloomed in her palm and shot toward the Beetle, wrapping around it completely.

Except—

It wasn’t purple.

It was white.

Bright. Clean. Almost luminous.

Emma slowly lowered the phone from her ear, the call still going unanswered somewhere in the distance.

“Whoa,” she breathed.

The light faded just as suddenly as it had appeared.

And when it did—

The Volkswagen looked brand new.

No smoke.

No shattered hood.

No tree damage.

Not even a scratch.

Silence settled over the road.

The two women looked at each other.

Regina’s expression held a very specific mixture of smugness and surprise, like even she hadn’t expected that outcome but was delighted to pretend she had.

Emma, meanwhile, looked openly awestruck as she hung up the phone.

“How did you—?” she started, then cut herself off abruptly.

Her own hand lifted instinctively.

A flicker of light sparked in her palm.

Emma froze.

Because this time—

It worked.

And now Emma’s magic was white too.

Soft light glowed against her fingertips, bright and steady.

Emma stared at it for a moment before looking back at Regina.

“It’s you,” she murmured under her breath. “I thought it was because of the Enchanted Forest, but—it’s you.”

Her gaze dropped briefly to her own hands before lifting back to the woman still standing in the middle of the road in a full royal gown like this was all perfectly normal.

“It’s us,” Emma said softly, wonder threading through her voice. “Being together.”

Regina’s brows scrunched immediately. “I mean… yes, the color change is interesting, but it’s still my magic.”

Emma blinked at her. “Regina, magic isn’t supposed to exist in this world.”

That seemed to land.

“I tried using it before you came through the portal,” Emma continued. “Nothing happened.”

Regina stared at her for a beat.

Then—

“Oh.”

The realization hit her all at once.

Emma watched it happen in real time across Regina’s face. She let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, still staring at the faint white light lingering in her hand.

Regina, however, looked less impressed and more unsettled.

Her gaze flicked between Emma’s hand and her own, where the same white glow still hummed faintly under her skin.

“Wait,” Emma added, more carefully now. “This really shouldn’t be possible.”

Regina’s brows drew together. “Why not?”

“Because magic doesn’t just decide to exist in a world it didn’t exist in five minutes ago,” Emma said, gesturing vaguely between them. “What if these are the consequences Lilia was talking about? What if I’m still holding the realms together?”

Regina looked past her for a long moment, thinking—really thinking.

Then, firmly—

“No.”

Emma blinked. “No?”

“No.” The Queen said it too quickly, then immediately bit her lip like she regretted how certain it sounded.

“Regina…” Emma stepped closer. “What is it?”

“We just… don’t have to worry about it,” Regina said, a little too fast. She smoothed her hands down the front of her bodice as if something about this conversation had physically unsettled her. “That’s all.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “Regina. What aren’t you telling me?”

The brunette huffed, suddenly very interested in anywhere except Emma. She scratched the back of her head and muttered something under her breath.

Emma tilted her head. “I didn’t catch that.”

Regina mumbled again, even less helpfully this time. “It’s-a-twin-flame-thing.”

Emma’s mouth twitched, but she kept her voice sweet. “Sorry. Still didn’t catch it.”

“For fuck’s sake, Emma—it’s a twin flame thing.”

Silence.

“Oh,” Emma just… paused. Then slowly, a grin spread across her face. “And this applies to our magic, how?

Regina rolled her eyes immediately, crossing her arms. “I saw it in Agatha’s grimoire. As long as we’re together, our magic is bound to us—not the realm.”

Emma took a few steps closer, smug now in a way that was almost affectionate.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to admit it,” she said.

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “You knew?”

“I did.”

A beat.

Emma lifted one brow, clearly enjoying herself. “And I’m just saying… ‘twin flame thing’ sounds like something you would absolutely deny while actively doing.”

Regina held her gaze for a long moment.

“…You’re insufferable.”

“Mm.” The blonde nodded like she believed her completely. “Sure.”

By now there was barely any space left between them.

Regina could feel Emma’s breath every time she spoke.

“So let me get this straight…” she started lightly. “The Evil Queen secretly read about twin flames…”

Regina’s jaw tightened immediately. “I did not secretly read—”

“…figured out we were magically connected…”

“Emma.”

“And then,” the blonde continued, clearly enjoying herself now, “you still fell in lo—”

Regina kissed her before the word could fully leave her mouth.

Fast.

Almost defensive.

One hand caught Emma by the lapels of her red leather jacket, while the other slid into her hair, pulling her in like shutting her up had simply become the most efficient option available.

Emma made a soft surprised sound against her lips, smiling into the kiss almost immediately.

When Regina finally pulled back, she was just a little breathless.

“You talk too much,” she muttered.

Emma’s grin only widened. “You got nervous.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.” Emma’s eyes flicked between hers knowingly. “That was the fastest reaction time I’ve ever seen.”

Regina looked genuinely offended. “I am not discussing this on the side of a road.”

Emma laughed softly, still far too pleased with herself. “Okay, but the fact that you interrupted specifically at the word—”

Another kiss.

This one harder.

And this time—shutting her up was just a perk.

Chapter Text

They decided to stop at a hotel somewhere around the halfway point of the drive, still hours away from New York.

With time somehow remaining untouched in this realm, they realized they had a few extra days to spare.

Not that either of them had fully wrapped their heads around that yet.

The hotel itself sat somewhere between charming and forgettable—not luxurious, but definitely better than a roadside motel with flickering lights and suspicious carpeting.

When Emma parked the Beetle and the two of them stepped out. She immediately recognized a problem.

Regina was still dressed like royalty.

Long dark gown. Corseted bodice. Entirely too much dramatic fabric for rural America.

“Hang on,” Emma said quickly, shutting the car door behind her. “We should probably get you actual clothes before we go inside.” She grabbed her bag and started rummaging through it.

Regina had other plans. Her brows furrowed slightly as she glanced around the parking lot.

Then her gaze landed on a woman smiling on a nearby real estate billboard.

Without hesitation, Regina flicked her wrist, copying the outfit.

A pulse of white light swept over her body.

Emma blinked.

The gown vanished instantly.

In its place was a silk button-up blouse with the sleeves rolled neatly to Regina’s elbows, a fitted pencil skirt that hit just above the knee, and heels that made the cracked pavement beneath them look underdressed.

Regina looked down at herself once, smoothing the skirt.

“Is this sufficient?” she asked matter-of-factly.

Emma opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Because it wasn’t even a revealing outfit, technically. But there was something deeply unfair about seeing Regina dressed like an ordinary woman and somehow looking even more dangerous because of it.

At this point, Emma was becoming increasingly convinced Regina could make literally any outfit look like a felony.

When Regina didn’t get a response, the corner of her mouth twitched knowingly.

She stepped closer and placed one finger beneath Emma’s chin, gently nudging her mouth shut. “I’m going to assume this is appropriate attire?” she asked smoothly, one perfectly arched brow lifting.

Emma cleared her throat immediately, heat creeping into her cheeks as she looked anywhere but directly at Regina.

“Yeah,” she managed. “Uh… looks great.”

The brunette’s smirk deepened with obvious satisfaction before she brushed past Emma toward the hotel entrance.

Inside, Emma handled checking them in while Regina took in the lobby with thinly veiled judgment.

“The only room we have available is a queen,” the clerk said apologetically. “Will that be alright?”

Emma glanced sideways at Regina.

Regina, meanwhile, looked entirely unbothered.

“That will be perfect, thank you,” she answered before Emma could.

Emma blinked.

The confidence in the response genuinely caught her off guard. Regina seemed like the kind of person who would demand her own bed even from someone she actually liked.

But the mystery solved itself the second they opened the hotel room door.

Regina stopped short.

Her eyes narrowed slowly at the single bed in the center of the room.

“…Where is the rest of it?”

Emma shut the door behind them. “The rest of what?”

“The suite.”

Emma frowned slightly. “This is the suite.”

Regina turned to her immediately. “This is a bed.”

Emma looked between Regina and the mattress.

Then it clicked.

“Oh,” she said, already starting to smile. “No, no—queen is the size of the bed.”

Regina stared at her.

“A queen-sized bed,” Emma clarified.

A long pause.

Regina looked back at the mattress with visible disbelief.

“That bed,” she said carefully, “is not large enough for a queen.”

Emma bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to stop herself from laughing.

Regina crossed her arms. “Frankly, I’m concerned for the standards of leadership in this realm.”

Emma pressed her lips together, very clearly trying not to laugh. “You and me both.” 

Regina gave the room another once-over.

The bed.

The single nightstand.

The single set of towels.

Slowly, her expression changed.

Emma saw the exact moment it happened.

“Oh,” Regina said.

Emma bit down harder on her smile. “Yeah.”

The Queen looked back at the bed like it had betrayed her personally.

Then at Emma.

Then back at the bed again.

“…There’s only one.”

“Mmhm.”

A beat passed before Emma thumbed toward the tiny couch against the wall. “It’s okay, I can take that.”

Regina looked at the couch with immediate disapproval. “That thing looks medieval.”

Emma laughed softly. “I’ve slept in worse.”

Regina’s expression flickered briefly at that before she looked away.

Then her gaze drifted back toward the bed.

She hadn’t shared a bed with anyone besides Leopold.

There had been lovers, certainly, but none of them were stay the night and wake up beside me lovers. They were fleeting things—kept at arm’s length, sent away before morning could turn them into something softer. Something real.

Emma was the furthest thing from that.

And Regina was beginning to realize just how much of herself Emma was about to see.

Not the Evil Queen. Not the carefully composed version of herself draped in silk and control.

The in-between parts.

The way her hair tangled in every direction when she woke up. The inevitable morning breath. The quiet. The ordinary intimacy of existing beside someone with no performance left to give.

They had lived together before, technically.

But not like this.

Not where waking up together was the point.

For gods’ sake, it’s just a bed, isn’t it? Regina thought.

And yet the image still made something nervous flutter low in her chest—

Waking up tangled together. Emma half asleep beside her. Warmth where there had only ever been empty space before.

It didn’t frighten her in a bad way.

Only in the way unfamiliar tenderness always had.

Regina looked back toward Emma, whose eyes were still bright with amusement and something softer underneath it, and felt her composure slip just enough to be dangerous.

“I—” Regina started, then immediately lost the sentence.

Emma’s expression softened further, patient now.

Regina looked down briefly, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the cuff of her blouse.

“I would…” She paused, thoughtful rather than hesitant.

Then she lifted her chin slightly, meeting Emma’s eyes head-on.

“I would like it if you slept with me.”

She said it plainly. Calmly. Like a woman accustomed to being listened to when she spoke.

And somehow that was infinitely worse for Emma’s composure.

Silence settled between them for half a second too long.

Then Emma’s expression shifted, the corners of her mouth twitching upward with immediate amusement, her eyes quickly looking over Regina’s form without her realizing it. 

Regina narrowed her eyes slightly. “Don’t.”

Emma huffed a quiet laugh. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking something.”

“I was appreciating the phrasing.”

That earned her a deeply unimpressed look.

Emma stepped closer anyway, her smile softening around the edges now, less teasing than before.

“For the record,” she said quietly, “I would also like to sleep with you.”

Regina crossed her arms lightly. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“A little,” Emma admitted easily.

Then, gentler—

“But mostly I just like hearing you ask for something you want.”

Chapter Text

The morning was every bit as soft as Regina had feared.

She woke facing Emma, their foreheads touching, legs tangled together beneath the blankets, one of Emma’s hands resting loosely at her waist while Regina’s remained curled instinctively against Emma’s side.

Warm.

Comfortably warm.

At some point during the night, Regina had apparently moved closer instead of farther away.

That realization alone nearly sent her retreating back under the covers.

The silk pajama set she wore certainly wasn’t helping matters either. She’d conjured it after spotting something similar during one of the “movies” Emma had shown her the night before.

Which had also led to Regina discovering there was apparently an animated adaptation of Snow White.

A deeply disappointing one.

“I don’t even have any cleavage,” Regina had complained from her spot against the headboard, arms crossed tightly as the cartoon Snow White twirled across the screen.

Then, under her breath—

“I didn’t wear those dresses for nothing.”

Emma had laughed so hard she nearly dropped the remote.

“It’s a kids movie, Regina.”

Regina looked entirely unconvinced. “Then explain why Charming still gets to have his jawline.”

The memory pulled a soft smile from Regina before she could stop it.

She simply laid there for a moment, watching Emma sleep.

The blonde looked softer like this. Less guarded. Golden hair spilling across the pillow in every direction, lips slightly parted, one leg still tangled carelessly with Regina’s beneath the blankets.

Regina gently brushed a loose curl behind Emma’s ear, letting her hand linger to cup her cheek.

I love you.

The words echoed quietly through her mind without permission.

They both knew it.

Knew it was the reason Emma had woken from the sleeping curse. Knew it lived in every look, every touch, every impossible choice they had made for each other.

And still, Regina couldn’t quite bring herself to say it aloud.

Maybe because saying it made it real in a way nothing else had.

Maybe because a part of her still feared something this good could disappear the second she named it.

Her thumb brushed lightly over Emma’s cheekbone.

Perhaps saying it to sleeping Emma was easier.

Less terrifying.

Regina parted her lips softly, preparing to finally say the words—

But blue-green eyes fluttered open first.

And the very first thing Emma saw was Regina smiling at her like she’d forgotten how not to.

Emma’s expression immediately mirrored it.

“Good morning,” she murmured sleepily.

Regina’s expression softened just enough that she no longer looked like someone caught smiling at Emma in her sleep.

“Good morning,” she murmured.

Emma considered kissing her.

Then immediately remembered morning breath existed.

Before she could decide whether she cared enough to risk it anyway, her phone suddenly rang from the nightstand.

Emma groaned softly and rolled over to grab it.

The second she saw the caller ID, her face brightened.

“Hey, kid,” she answered, voice still rough with sleep. “What’s up?”

Henry immediately launched into a story about school—something involving a science project, a substitute teacher, and another kid apparently trying to microwave aluminum foil in class.

Emma found herself smiling wider with every sentence.

Regina watched quietly beside her, something warm settling in her chest at the sight.

Henry bounced from topic to topic easily after that, asking about Emma’s trip, whether she’d solved her “case” yet, and when she’d finally be home.

Case.

Right.

Emma had almost forgotten that was technically why she’d left town in the first place.

A brief flash of panic hit before she remembered she had texted her boss about the car accident before getting sucked into a magical portal in a tree.

Which, honestly, still sounded insane even in her own head.

“So…” Emma started carefully once Henry finally paused long enough to breathe. “There’s actually something I wanted to ask you.”

Regina glanced over at her immediately.

“What is it?” Henry asked.

Emma hesitated just long enough for Regina to notice.

“I’ve kinda been seeing someone,” Emma admitted, softer now. “For a little while.”

Henry gasped dramatically loud enough that Emma had to pull the phone slightly from her ear.

“No way.”

Emma snorted. “Yes way.”

“Is that why you sound weird?”

“I do not sound weird.”

“You sound smiley.”

Regina bit back a grin beside her.

Emma rolled her eyes affectionately before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure things were serious before I brought anybody around you.” A small pause. “Would it be okay if I brought her home with me?”

“Yeah!” Henry answered immediately, sounding genuinely excited. “Does she like skee-ball?”

Emma laughed softly, glancing over at Regina.

“We’re gonna have to hit an arcade and find out.”

The two of them talked a little longer before Henry finally had to leave for school.

By the time Emma hung up, she was still smiling at the screen.

Regina felt something warm twist in her chest just from listening to the conversation. Seeing Emma this happy. Hearing the softness in her voice whenever she talked about Henry… whenever she talked about her.

“‘Seeing someone?’” Regina echoed. “Is that what we are to one another in this realm?”

Emma let out a soft laugh. “I panicked, okay? Henry asked and I didn’t know what else to call you.”

“Call me?” Regina lifted a brow.

Emma gestured vaguely toward the phone on the nightstand. “I don’t know the official label for… us.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed slightly, amused. “Official label.”

“You know what I mean.”

Regina shifted onto one elbow, dark eyes glinting now. “Do I?”

“‘Gina,” Emma groaned dramatically, flopping back against the pillow. “Please work with me here.”

A second later she rolled back toward Regina, burying her face briefly against her neck with an exaggerated sigh like she’d been personally victimized by conversation.

“I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

A soft smile tugged at Regina’s lips. She let her head tilt slightly until it rested against Emma’s.

“And what are the labels in this realm, Miss Swan?” she asked more quietly. “What would you call someone you crossed realms for?”

“Mine,” Emma mumbled automatically, half asleep.

Regina went very still for half a beat.

Emma, apparently unbothered by the emotional impact of her own honesty, continued anyway.

“Okay, well there’s partner—”

Regina’s brow lifted. “Sounds like we’re negotiating land treaties.”

Emma snorted. “That’s because it kind of does.”

“And?”

“There’s also ‘significant other,’ but that sounds like paperwork.”

Regina hummed in agreement.

Emma hesitated, suddenly more aware of her own words.

“And then there’s… girlfriend.”

Regina repeated it slowly, like she was trying to understand how it fit in her world.

“Girlfriend.”

Emma nodded. “It means… you’re the one I choose. The one I’m… romantically involved with.”

Regina considered that carefully.

“Sort of like an engagement?”

Emma immediately flushed.

“Kind of,” she admitted, clearing her throat. “But without the… marriage part. Not yet. Just—” she waved a hand vaguely, searching for words that didn’t make her sound like she was proposing accidentally, “commitment. Choice. Us.”

Regina watched her for a beat, clearly amused.

“So it’s your way of making it sound less terrifying,” she said lightly.

Emma shot her a look. “That’s not what I said.”

“Its what you did.” Regina let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as her fingers idly combed through Emma’s hair.

A comfortable quiet settled for a moment.

Then Regina glanced down at her, tone easier now, like it was just a passing thought instead of a declaration.

“I think girlfriend works,” she said. “It’s simple.”

Emma blinked, propping herself up slightly. “Wow. Okay. Didn’t expect you to land there that fast.”

Regina’s lips curved slightly. “I’m evolving.”

“You really are.” Emma leaned in to kiss her softly, smiling against her lips.

Regina hummed in quiet contentment, fingers tangling deeper into Emma’s hair as she pulled her closer for another second before finally letting her go.

Emma laughed under her breath. “Okay, hold on. Let me brush my teeth before this escalates.”

Regina bit lightly at her lower lip, clearly entertained now. “A shame. I was beginning to enjoy your morning breath.”

Emma stared at her in disbelief. “You are lying.”

The Queen only smirked.

—

Afterward, Emma showed Regina how the shower worked, which Regina found far more fascinating than she cared to admit.

“You’re telling me heated water simply… falls from the ceiling?” she asked, staring at the faucet like it might reveal dark magic at any moment.

Emma leaned against the doorway, grinning. “Pretty much.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Welcome to modern plumbing.”

Emma tried very hard not to stare when Regina emerged from the bathroom later wearing the same pencil skirt and silk blouse as the day before, dark hair still damp from the shower.

Which was ridiculous, Emma told herself.

She had seen Regina with wet hair before.

Many times.

But something about seeing her standing barefoot in a basic hotel room with damp curls sticking to her neck and sleeves rolled to her elbows was doing dangerous things to Emma’s ability to think.

And judging by the faint smugness curling at the corner of Regina’s mouth, she was beginning to realize exactly what effect she had.

They checked out not long after and got back on the road.

Regina settled into the passenger seat with considerably less struggle this time. “This contraption is significantly easier to sit in without a gown.”

Emma laughed.

Regina only looked at her seriously.

“I’m being sincere.”

“I know,” Emma said, trying and failing to suppress another smile. “Cars are not exactly designed with royal attire in mind.”

Regina glanced around the inside of the Beetle thoughtfully. “A design flaw.”

The drive passed easier after that.

Emma showed Regina different music, explained traffic lights, gas stations, billboards, and every other mundane thing Regina found bizarrely fascinating.

Which, unfortunately for Emma, was adorable.

At one point Regina pointed out the window with complete seriousness.

“What is that enormous spinning wheel?”

Emma followed her gaze and smiled. “Ferris wheel.”

Regina blinked slowly. “People willingly climb onto that?”

“Yep.”

“…Why?”

Emma laughed. “For fun.”

Regina looked deeply skeptical of that answer.

By the time the skyline of New York City finally came into view, Regina had gone noticeably quieter.

Emma noticed immediately.

The Enchanted Forest had been one thing. Monsters, curses, magic—Regina knew how to survive those.

This?

This terrified her.

Because Henry was different.

Henry was permanent.

If Henry hated her… Emma would never truly choose between them, Regina knew that. Nor should she. And somehow that made the fear worse.

Emma parked outside the apartment building and stepped out first before circling around to open Regina’s door with an exaggerated flourish.

“Your Majesty,” she teased.

Regina stepped out with a small smile that faded almost instantly as she stared up at the towering apartment building before them.

“…This is yours?”

Emma barked out a laugh. “The whole building? Absolutely not. Especially not in New York.”

Regina’s brows furrowed as she looked back up.

“Welcome to apartment life,” Emma said, stepping beside her. “There are so many people who live in New York they have to  stack tiny homes on top of each other.”

Regina stared another moment longer.

“…That sounds deeply claustrophobic.”

Emma shrugged lightly. “Think of it like the hotel room, just… more permanent. And with less floral wallpaper.”

Regina considered that for a moment, gaze drifting back up the building.

“I could get used to that,” she admitted quietly. Then after a beat: “Hopefully.”

Emma’s expression softened for just a second before she grabbed their bags and led Regina inside.

By the time they reached the apartment door, Regina’s eyes had already scanned every inch of the hallway like she was assessing a foreign kingdom.

Emma set the bags down and fished her keys from her pocket.

When the lock finally clicked open, she glanced down at her phone.

“Alright,” she announced, pushing the door inward. “We’ve got exactly fifteen minutes before Henry gets home from school.”

Regina immediately straightened like someone preparing for a diplomatic summit instead of meeting an eleven-year-old boy.

By the time Henry came bounding through the apartment door, the two women had mostly settled in.

Emma had lent Regina some clothes while they unpacked.

Which, in hindsight, had been a terrible idea.

Because somehow Regina had managed to turn one of Emma’s off-the-shoulder sweaters and a pair of dark skinny jeans into something that looked effortlessly elegant.

Her dark hair was pinned loosely up now, exposing the graceful line of her neck, and the wide neckline of the sweater dipped just enough over one shoulder to make Emma’s brain short-circuit every time she looked at her for too long.

It was the casualness of it—the bare feet against Emma’s floor, the sleeves pushed to her elbows, Regina moving around the apartment like she belonged there—it did something dangerous to Emma’s chest.

Like seeing a future she hadn’t let herself picture before.

And judging by the occasional glance the brunette sent her way, she thought maybe Regina was thinking about that too.

Chapter Text

“Mom!” Henry shouted the second he spotted her, immediately launching himself across the apartment.

Emma barely had time to brace before he wrapped himself around her.

“Hey, kiddo,” she laughed, hugging him tightly. “I missed you so much.”

The words hit harder than Henry could possibly understand.

For him, Emma had only been gone a few days.

For Emma, it had been nearly a year.

Emotion swelled unexpectedly in her chest, sharp enough that she had to blink rapidly against the sting in her eyes while Henry remained oblivious in the safety of the hug.

A moment later, August stepped through the doorway behind him, motorcycle helmets in hand—one his, one clearly Henry’s.

“Hey!” he said, surprised. “You’re back early.”

Regina recognized him instantly from the magic mirror. Otherwise, she might have felt something unpleasant curl in her chest at the sight of another man looking so comfortable in Emma’s apartment.

But Emma had called him family.

And Regina trusted that.

August’s gaze shifted toward her almost immediately, a knowing smirk pulling at his mouth.

“So,” he said, “this is mystery woman.”

He stepped forward, offering his hand.

“I’m August.”

“Regina,” she replied smoothly, returning the handshake with practiced composure. “Emma’s told me about you.”

His brow lifted. “All good things, I hope.”

Emma snorted from across the room. “With the amount of trouble you used to drag me into? Absolutely not.”

August looked deeply offended. “I was enriching your childhood.”

“You taught me how to break into parking meters.”

“A valuable life skill.”

Emma rolled her eyes fondly and stepped over to hug him briefly.

Meanwhile, Henry had gone completely quiet.

Regina noticed immediately.

The boy was simply standing there staring at her openly now, curious and cautious in equal measure.

And suddenly Regina’s confidence abandoned her entirely.

Her heart thudded hard enough she was sure everyone in the room could hear it.

Should she say something first? Wait for Emma to introduce them? Was crouching weird? Gods, why was this more terrifying than facing an angry mob—

Before she could overthink herself into disaster, instinct took over.

Regina crouched slightly to Henry’s level, even if the kid was already surprisingly tall for eleven.

“You must be Henry,” she said gently.

Henry nodded once.

Silence.

Then Regina remembered the one thing she definitely knew about him.

“Your mother tells me you play a wicked game of skee-ball.”

That immediately lit him up.

“Yeah!” he said excitedly. “Did she tell you about my Lego collection?”

Something in Regina’s chest loosened instantly.

“No,” she admitted, smiling now. “She did not.”

Henry grabbed her hand without hesitation.

“Well c’mon.”

Before Regina could even react, he was already dragging her toward an entire display of elaborate Lego builds lining the wall—flowers, tiny cities, framed art pieces, impossibly detailed sets clearly built with patience and pride.

Regina stared at them with genuine surprise.

“These are extraordinary.”

Henry beamed.

Across the room, Emma watched the entire thing unfold with something dangerously close to tears in her eyes.

August nudged Emma with his elbow, watching Regina and Henry immediately fall into conversation like they’d known each other longer than five minutes.

“Looks like you found yourself a keeper.”

Emma’s smile softened before she could stop it.

“Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I really did.”

Meanwhile, Henry was already deep into explaining his Lego collection, pointing out specific builds and detailing which sections had nearly “ruined his life.”

“And this part took me three hours because the pieces kept falling off—”

Regina listened with complete seriousness, nodding along like he was explaining battle strategy.

Then, halfway through his rambling, Henry suddenly looked over at Emma.

“Mom! Do you think we could work on the new set tonight?”

Emma glanced toward Regina instinctively before looking back at him.

“I mean,” she shrugged lightly, “if Regina wants to.”

Henry immediately turned toward her expectantly.

And for reasons Regina couldn’t fully explain, that tiny look of hopeful anticipation hit harder than almost anything else had today.

“I’d love to,” she said, smiling warmly. “What kind of set is it?”

Emma snorted softly under her breath before Henry could even answer.

“It’s a castle!” Henry said excitedly. “And there’s a dragon guarding it!”

Regina shot Emma an amused, knowing look.

Finally. Something in her area of expertise.

“Ah,” she nodded solemnly. “Then I may actually be qualified to help.”

Henry looked delighted by that answer.

“Not me,” August cut in immediately, raising both hands. “I’m out. I stepped on one of those plastic death traps once and swore never again.”

His gaze drifted somewhere distant, like he was reliving combat trauma.

Emma laughed and walked him toward the door while Henry immediately launched into further dragon-related details with Regina.

Before August left, Emma lowered her voice slightly.

“Hey,” she said casually, “think I could borrow your bike sometime?”

August looked instantly suspicious.

“…Trying to impress Regina?”

Emma’s grin answered for her.

August barked out a laugh and crossed his arms. “Respect.” Then he nodded once. “Sundays are your best bet.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Emma winked. “And thank you for your discretion.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely holding this over your head later.”

“Fair.”

After August left, Emma wandered back into the living room and clapped her hands together.

“Alright, kid, you grab the Lego set. I’ll order pizza.”

Regina’s brows furrowed slightly.

“Pizza?”

Henry froze.

“…You don’t like pizza?”

“I’ve never had—”

Emma gasped dramatically before Regina could finish.

“She’s never had New York pizza.”

Regina nodded slowly. “Right. I’ve actually never been to New York before.”

Henry blinked. “Seriously?”

“This is my first visit.”

Henry looked genuinely stunned by that information before another thought hit him.

“Wait.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Then how did you two even meet?”

Emma and Regina shared one very quick look.

“On a case,” Emma answered smoothly.

Henry accepted that immediately with a shrug.

“Cool.”

And just like that, he was already sprinting off toward his room to grab the unopened Lego set.

Soon the box was open, its contents spread neatly across the coffee table while the three of them settled around it.

Henry immediately organized the numbered bags with the seriousness of a military operation.

“I’ll do bag one,” he announced.

Emma grabbed the second bag. “I call bag two.”

Regina eyed the remaining one cautiously before picking it up. “Then I suppose I’m bag three.”

None of them had actually opened their bags yet.

There were plates of pizza balanced around the table, the smell filling the apartment while Henry flipped eagerly through the instruction booklet.

Regina took the manual from him after a moment, studying the pages with increasing focus. She tilted it slightly, bringing it closer to inspect one of the diagrams.

“…This is architecture,” she decided seriously.

Henry lit up instantly.

“Exactly!”

Emma laughed softly from beside them, taking another bite of pizza. “Just with tiny plastic bricks instead of actual building materials.”

Regina absently picked up her own slice and took a bite while still reading the instructions.

Then paused.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“Oh my god.”

Emma grinned immediately.

“Good, right?”

Regina stared down at the pizza like she’d just uncovered forbidden magic.

“This may actually be better than the shower.”

“The shower?” Henry asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Emma froze for half a second.

“The Shower,” she improvised quickly, “is the name of the pizza place near where Regina lives.”

Henry blinked.

“…That’s a weird name for a pizza place.”

Regina’s mouth twitched at the corners.

Emma caught it immediately and leaned slightly toward her, muttering under her breath, “You could’ve helped me out there.”

“You were doing remarkably well on your own,” Regina murmured back smoothly.

Henry had already moved on, too busy opening the first numbered bag to care.

Soon the three of them were settled around the coffee table, pizza plates balanced nearby while tiny plastic bricks slowly overtook every available surface.

Regina focused intently on the instruction booklet, occasionally tilting it toward Henry to point out a step or diagram.

Emma contributed significantly less useful input.

Every so often she’d grab a completely incorrect piece and hold it up confidently.

“This one?”

Both Regina and Henry would immediately look at her with the exact same deeply unimpressed expression.

“No.”

Emma burst out laughing every time it happened.

And somewhere around the fifth identical look, something warm twisted unexpectedly in her chest.

Because for one tiny second—

they looked related.

Her next contribution to the Lego project involved making a tiny brick appear from behind Regina’s ear.

Regina blinked at the piece now sitting in Emma’s fingers.

“That wasn’t magic,” she stated immediately.

Henry laughed. “Of course it wasn’t actual magic.”

Regina’s brows furrowed. “Then where was it concealed?”

Emma caught Henry’s delighted expression and winked at him over Regina’s shoulder, a smug grin curling at her lips.

“Trade secret.”

Regina looked deeply unsatisfied with that answer.

As the night went on, she became increasingly invested in the build itself.

Painfully precise about it, too.

She made sure every piece clicked exactly where it belonged, occasionally stopping Henry before he attached something crooked by less than a centimeter.

Emma learned very quickly that Regina approached Lego construction with the same intensity she likely once approached war strategy.

And somehow, watching Regina and Henry bicker over the structural integrity of a tiny plastic tower became one of Emma’s favorite things she’d ever seen.

By the time they finally stopped for the night, the castle was only half finished, pieces still scattered across the coffee table.

Henry yawned dramatically.

“I think we should save the dragon for tomorrow.”

Regina glanced at the unfinished section thoughtfully before nodding in agreement.

“Yes,” she said seriously. “The dragon deserves proper focus.”

Emma gave Henry a gentle nudge toward his bedroom. “Alright, kid, bedtime. And brush your teeth this time instead of just staring at the toothbrush and hoping for the best.”

“I do brush my teeth,” Henry argued sleepily as he shuffled backward toward his room.

“Mhm.”

Henry rolled his eyes dramatically before pausing near the doorway to look back at Regina.

“Goodnight, Regina.”

Something unexpectedly soft settled in Regina’s chest at the simple ease of it.

“Goodnight, Henry,” she replied gently.

Then Henry disappeared into his room, and the apartment suddenly felt much quieter.

Chapter Text

With Henry finally heading off to bed, the apartment quieted considerably.

Which meant it was now Emma and Regina’s turn to figure out sleeping arrangements.

Again.

Regina changed into the same silk pajama set she’d conjured the night before, exhaustion softening some of her usual sharp edges after the long day.

Emma emerged from the bathroom a minute later in a white tank top and plaid sleep shorts.

And this time?

It was Regina’s turn to completely lose composure internally.

Because apparently Emma Swan dressed for bed like she was actively trying to shorten Regina’s lifespan.

The two women paused instinctively once they reached the bedroom doorway, both glancing toward the bed sitting squarely between them.

Emma’s mouth curved first.

“Still only one.”

“Still only one,” Regina echoed, far more calmly than she actually felt.

Emma leaned lightly against the doorframe, clearly enjoying herself now.

“I guess my sleeping arrangements depend entirely on how you felt waking up next to me this morning.” One blonde brow lifted expectantly.

Regina huffed out a quiet laugh. “You think I would throw you out of your own bed?”

“Maybe.” Emma tilted her head thoughtfully. “If you woke up to a bucket of water dumped on your face.”

Regina narrowed her eyes immediately. “Don’t even think about it.”

Emma grinned and climbed onto the bed backwards, crossing her legs while bracing herself on her hands behind her.

“Well right now,” she said casually, “I’m mostly thinking about the fact that you didn’t answer my question.”

Regina folded her arms. “What question?”

Emma looked at her knowingly.

“How did you feel waking up next to me?”

Regina bit lightly at her lip, clearly trying not to smile.

“How did I feel,” she repeated slowly, “waking up next to my…”

She paused just long enough for Emma to stop breathing.

Whether for dramatic effect or because she was still getting used to saying it herself, Emma honestly couldn’t tell.

“…girlfriend?”

The word hit Emma so hard it nearly knocked the air from her lungs.

Not just because Regina had said it.

But because she’d said it so naturally this time. Like she was trying the shape of it out and finding she liked how it fit.

“Kind of answers itself, doesn’t it?” Regina replied, smirking faintly as she slipped beneath the covers.

Emma laughed softly. “Well, if it didn’t, you voluntarily climbing into my bed definitely did.”

She climbed in beside her, tugging the blanket up as she settled onto her side.

A warmth crept into Regina’s cheeks almost immediately.

Emma had this uncanny ability to make her seem far bolder than she actually felt.

Because outwardly, Regina probably looked perfectly composed.

Meanwhile internally, she was still acutely aware of every inch between them beneath the blankets.

They laid facing each other beneath the blankets, neither quite ready to fall asleep yet.

Just staring.

Blinking slowly.

Both of them far too aware of the other’s presence.

“It’s kind of hard to believe,” Emma murmured with a quiet laugh, “that a few hours ago you were convinced Henry was going to hate you.”

Regina’s lips curved softly. “Anxiety has never been particularly rational.”

Emma reached across the space between them, taking Regina’s hand and brushing her thumb gently over the back of it.

“I hope tonight helped a little,” she said quietly. “Because he already adores you.”

Regina searched Emma’s face for a moment. “You really think so?”

Emma’s smile softened immediately.

“I know so.”

Emma’s gaze dropped briefly to their joined hands.

“Regina, I…” she started softly.

Regina lifted a brow. “Hmm?”

Emma swallowed.

“I need to say that I—”

The words caught.

I love you.

They sat there at the edge of her tongue while her courage completely abandoned her.

Emma let out a quiet breath instead, fingers tightening slightly around Regina’s hand.

“…I’m really glad you came back with me.”

Something softened instantly in Regina’s expression.

She shifted closer until their foreheads rested together.

“Me too,” she whispered.

—

By morning, they’d somehow ended up even closer than the night before.

Emma lay half-curled beneath the blankets with Regina’s arm wrapped securely around her waist, Regina pressed warm against her back.

When Regina slowly woke, she stayed still for a moment, simply breathing in.

Emma’s shampoo lingered faintly in her hair, clean and warm and unmistakably her.

The scent pulled a sleepy smile from Regina before she could stop it.

Without fully thinking, she buried her face slightly deeper into Emma’s hair, holding her a little closer.

Emma shifted drowsily in response.

“Morning,” she mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

Regina hummed softly against her hair.

“Morning.”

“What time is it?” Emma mumbled sleepily.

Regina groaned softly and buried her face further into Emma’s shoulder. “Far too early to be conscious, that’s what time it is.”

A tired laugh escaped Emma.

“We do eventually have to get up, you know.” She shifted slightly to look at her. “It’s Saturday. We promised Henry the arcade.” A pause. “And I’d rather he not wake up before we do.”

Regina let out a long suffering sigh.

“Five more minutes.”

Emma’s lips twitched mischievously.

She rolled over fully toward Regina and slipped her arms around her waist, looking for all the world like she was about to cuddle closer.

Then suddenly—

her fingers dug into Regina’s sides to tickle her. 

Regina shrieked.

Actually shrieked.

She bolted upright instantly, silk pajamas disheveled, glaring down at Emma with a look that could’ve frozen lava.

“Miss Swan,” she warned darkly.

Emma collapsed into laughter against the pillows.

“I figured it was a better alternative than the bucket of water.”

Regina narrowed her eyes.

Then, without warning, a bucket materialized directly above Emma’s head and dumped freezing water all over her before she could react.

Emma gasped sharply.

“Oh my god—that’s cold.”

“Aww, you poor thing,” Regina replied with utterly fake sympathy.

Then Regina made the critical mistake of actually looking at her.

Emma’s white tank top was now soaked through entirely, clinging to her skin, and Regina abruptly remembered exactly what Emma had been wearing to bed.

Her entire train of thought derailed immediately.

Regina crossed her arms and looked away with immense dignity.

Which would have been more convincing if the tips of her ears weren’t pink.

Emma remained completely oblivious to Regina’s internal crisis.

With an absent flick of her wrist, she dried both herself and the bed in a wash of white light.

“Okay,” Emma admitted, still grinning, “I maybe kind of deserved that.”

“Kind of?” Regina finally looked back at her, one brow arching elegantly.

Emma winced. “Alright, fully deserved.”

“That’s better.”

Emma shifted closer again, softer this time. “How about I make it up to you with breakfast?”

Regina regarded her skeptically, clearly weighing whether breakfast was adequate compensation for attempted murder by tickling.

“And what exactly does this apology breakfast include?”

Emma scrunched her nose thoughtfully. “I’m thinking waffles. Maybe scrambled eggs.”

Regina blinked. “Waffles?”

Emma immediately pointed at her. “Okay, before you ask—”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“They’re kind of like pancakes,” Emma continued anyway, “except crispier. And they’ve got little squares for syrup.”

Regina considered this seriously.

“…Syrup pockets.”

“Exactly.”

The brunette opened her mouth again.

“And don’t ask what pancakes are,” Emma warned. “Because I know for a fact the Enchanted Forest has pancakes.”

Regina’s lips curled into a smug little smile.

“Fine,” she relented. “I will accept your apology waffles.”

Emma sighed dramatically in relief. “Good. You had me worried for a second there.”

Before Regina could respond, Emma leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her temple before climbing out of bed.

And ridiculous as it was, the tiny gesture lingered.

Not the kiss itself.

The ease of it.

The casual affection.

Like Emma wanted to touch her simply because she could.

—

After breakfast, the three of them headed to an arcade.

Regina was immediately assaulted by flashing lights, overlapping music, shouting children, and what she could only describe as organized chaos.

For the first ten minutes, she looked one overstimulating sound away from declaring war on the entire building.

But eventually, she adjusted.

Mostly.

“Why is that machine screaming?” she asked at one point as a racing game blared nearby.

“I think someone won,” Emma answered.

“That hardly seems like a reason to alert the whole city.”

Emma laughed and tugged her toward the skee-ball lanes.

Naturally, that was their first stop.

Regina was absolutely terrible at it.

The first ball rolled directly back toward her.

Henry laughed so hard he almost dropped his tickets.

Emma, meanwhile, was entirely too delighted by the situation.

“Okay, okay,” she said between laughs, stepping behind Regina. “You’re overthinking it.”

Emma placed one hand lightly over Regina’s and the other at her waist, helping guide the motion as they rolled the next ball together.

Regina’s focus immediately shattered.

Not because of the game.

Because Emma Swan was pressed against her in public and apparently acting like that was a completely normal thing to do.

“Relax,” Emma murmured near her ear. “Just follow through.”

The next ball rolled cleanly into the higher scoring ring.

Henry gasped dramatically.

“Mom, she’s going to beat us now.”

By the end of it, Regina was actually getting good.

Annoyingly good.

Which meant she became competitive almost immediately.

The next game involved a dance machine Emma and Henry called DDR.

Regina spent several long moments simply watching the two of them stomp across glowing arrows with alarming intensity.

“…Is this considered entertainment in your realm?”

Henry didn’t even look up from the screen. “You have to feel the rhythm!”

Regina looked deeply unconvinced by that explanation.

They moved on to claw machines after that.

Henry won a superhero watch after several determined attempts.

Emma, meanwhile, managed to win a small swan plushie after aggressively insisting the claw machine was “rigged.”

“It absolutely is rigged,” Regina informed her.

“That’s quitter talk.” Like she hadn’t just accused the machine seconds ago. 

When Emma finally dropped the plushie into Regina’s hands with a victorious grin, Regina rolled her eyes like the entire thing was ridiculous.

Secretly, though?

She adored it.

Emma was well aware.

By the time they finally cashed in their tickets, they’d earned enough for Henry to pick out a toy crossbow complete with suction-cup arrows.

Regina approved immediately.

“Finally,” she said solemnly. “A practical prize.”

Emma snorted.

The rest of the evening passed back at the apartment finishing the Lego castle together, the dragon finally taking its rightful place above the towers.

And somewhere between the laughter, the pizza leftovers, and Henry proudly explaining where every piece belonged—

none of them could remember the last time they’d felt this happy.

Chapter Text

Regina was getting dangerously comfortable waking up beside Emma.

This morning they’d somehow ended up reversed from the day before, Emma pressed warm against her back, one arm draped loosely around Regina’s waist beneath the blankets.

A sleepy smile tugged at Regina’s lips before she could stop it.

Without thinking much about it, she took Emma’s wrist gently and pulled her arm tighter around herself.

Emma stirred almost immediately, waking with a soft hum against the back of Regina’s shoulder.

“Careful,” she mumbled sleepily. “Someone might start thinking you enjoy being in bed with me.”

Regina scoffed lightly like the very idea was absurd.

But there was no real sharpness behind it.

No effort to pull away either.

Emma glanced over at the clock and groaned dramatically.

“We have to get up. August is taking Henry for the day.”

Regina frowned immediately at the idea of Henry not being around. “Why?”

The question came out almost possessively before she could stop it.

Emma tried not to smile at that as she climbed reluctantly out of bed.

Regina narrowed her eyes at once.

“Miss Swan, you know I despise surprises.”

Emma laughed softly and held up her hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay.” She turned back toward the bed, smile tugging at her lips. “I was hoping we could have the day to ourselves.”

Regina tilted her head slightly. “And what exactly does that involve?”

Emma’s grin went crooked.

“I was thinking we could go on a date. Just us—coffee, a few things around the city… I wanted to steal you away for a while.”

The effect was immediate.

Regina’s brows lifted just slightly, a smug sort of amusement curling at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh,” she drawled. “So now you’re courting me.”

“Why do you make it sound like I’m offering livestock to your father?” Emma said, laughing lightly through her words

“Because,” Regina replied smoothly, “you’re taking me out alone for an entire day with clearly romantic intentions. That sounds remarkably close to courting.”

Emma pointed at her from across the room.

“You like that I’m courting you.”

The smugness cracked just enough for Regina’s smile to turn real.

“Well,” she said lightly, “I did already agree to be your girlfriend.”

—

Emma and Regina were still in pajamas when August showed up to pick up Henry.

He and Emma swapped keys with mischievous smiles as they said their goodbyes, like they were both in on a joke they weren’t explaining.

When the door finally shut, Regina folded her arms.

“Alright, Miss Swan,” she said, watching her expectantly. “Where does our day begin?”

Emma chuckled. “Well, first we’ve got to get dressed if we’re actually going out.”

A few minutes later, she handed Regina clothes from her closet—practical, modern, something suitable for a motorcycle ride.

Which, unfortunately, meant leather.

Black jacket, white tank, skinny jeans, combat boots.

Regina stepped out of the bedroom and paused immediately.

“This doesn’t seem like date attire,” she said, arms crossed as she looked herself over.

Emma blinked.

Right.

Regina in leather was… a problem.

A very specific, unfair problem.

“It’s not really date attire,” Emma said quickly, grabbing her jacket like it might steady her thoughts. “It’s more… transportation attire.”

Regina raised a brow, a faint smirk already forming. “We’re going on a motorcycle?”

Emma didn’t even try to hide the grin this time. She just reached for the helmets and handed one over.

“It was one of the things you said you wanted to try,” Emma reminded her.

Regina paused.

Just for a second.

Then something softer flickered behind the amusement in her expression.

“I did,” she admitted.

Outside, Emma climbed onto the bike first, steadying it with practiced ease before turning back.

“Okay, so you get on like—” she hesitated, gesturing vaguely, “—like a horse.”

Regina gave her a look. “That is not helpful.”

“It’s very helpful,” Emma insisted.

Regina stepped in behind her anyway, settling with quiet confidence.

And then, instead of hesitation, her arms wrapped firmly around Emma’s waist—secure, familiar, like she’d already decided this was fine.

Firm. Stable. A little too confident for someone experiencing this for the first time.

Emma glanced back over her shoulder. “You’re not even a little nervous?”

Regina hummed. “Should I be?”

“I mean… it’s a motorcycle.”

“I noticed,” Regina said calmly.

Emma shook her head, smiling. “You’re supposed to ease into it, not act like you’ve been doing this your whole life.”

A faint pause.

“I trust you,” Regina said softly.

Emma’s smile softened without her meaning it to. “Yeah?”

Regina’s arms tightened just slightly around her waist—not dramatic, just certain. “I also prefer not to fall off.” She murmured.

Emma huffed a laugh. “Noted.”

And then, quieter as they settled in—

“…Tell me if I should let go.”

Emma’s hands tightened on the handlebars.

“Don’t,” she said, almost immediately.

Regina didn’t.

As they took off, Regina felt like this should have been something she hated.

Emma darted through traffic with far too much confidence, weaving between cars like she trusted the machine with her life. People stared whenever they stopped at lights, heads turning toward the bike before lingering just a little too long.

And Regina loved every second of it.

The wind against her skin was exhilarating, the vibration of the engine beneath them strangely thrilling. Even the staring did something smug and warm to her chest.

They couldn’t even properly see her through the helmet, and somehow it still felt like Emma was showing her off.

The thought should have embarrassed her.

Instead, Regina tightened her arms around Emma’s waist and smiled to herself.

Eventually, Emma pulled up outside a café, easing the bike to a stop before putting the kickstand down.

Emma climbed off first, offering her a hand.

The moment they were both standing, Emma tugged off her helmet. Blonde curls spilled loose instantly, windswept and effortless in a way that completely stole Regina’s attention.

Emma caught her staring almost immediately.

“You gonna take your helmet off?” she teased, one corner of her mouth curling upward.

Regina rolled her eyes behind the visor before finally pulling the helmet free.

Unlike Emma, she was fairly certain she looked nothing close to effortless.

She tucked the helmet against her hip and quickly ran a hand through her hair, attempting to tame what the ride had done to it into something at least remotely dignified.

Emma smiled, doing a terrible job of hiding the fact that she was staring, then reached for Regina’s hand and led her into the café.

Regina glanced down at their joined hands for a moment, letting Emma guide her through the crowded room without protest. The casual affection still felt unfamiliar in the strangest way—not unwanted, just… overwhelming sometimes. Like there was too much feeling for one chest to reasonably contain.

Emma picked a table by the window and set her helmet down beside them before giving Regina’s hand a small squeeze.

“I’m gonna grab us some coffee,” she said. “I’ll let you look over the menu before we order food.”

Regina nodded and slid into the booth, picking up the small laminated menu more out of obligation than interest.

Because despite herself, her attention stayed fixed on Emma instead.

The blonde waited in line at the counter, sleeves pushed up, curls still windswept from the ride, smiling absently to herself as she looked up at the menu board.

Regina felt something warm bloom painfully in her chest.

Ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

And yet she still couldn’t stop smiling softly at her.

Emma returned a few minutes later balancing two cups of coffee, setting one carefully in front of Regina with a grin that immediately made her suspicious.

Regina narrowed her eyes slightly. “What?”

“Nothing,” Emma said far too innocently, sliding into the seat across from her. “Try it.”

The expectant look on her face only deepened Regina’s suspicion, but she picked up the cup anyway and took a cautious sip.

Her eyes widened almost instantly.

“This is coffee?”

Emma burst into laughter. “Kind of.”

“Emma,” Regina said, looking back down at the drink like she’d been personally deceived.

“It’s espresso,” Emma explained through a smile. “Just… mixed with milk and sugar so it doesn’t taste like liquid suffering.”

Regina took another sip immediately.

“Well no wonder it’s delicious.”

They sat there for what felt like hours, talking easily about everything and nothing all at once.

Emma explained more about how this world worked, about her job, about Henry’s school and the routines they’d built together here. Regina listened carefully, occasionally asking questions that made Emma smile into her coffee.

They even talked about what Regina might want to do for herself eventually—careers, hobbies, things beyond simply surviving or ruling.

It felt strangely normal.

Dangerously normal.

Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, though, Regina realized something that made a quiet knot form in her stomach.

Emma would have to go back to work tomorrow.

Which meant Regina would be alone in the apartment for part of the day. Then alone with Henry until Emma got home.

And somehow, both of those things unsettled her more than crossing realms had.

The first was easy enough to understand. She hadn’t really been alone in a long time. Not since Emma had entered her life, anyway. Even when they weren’t together, Regina had gotten used to the feeling of Emma existing somewhere nearby—like warmth she could always reach for if she needed it.

The second part was harder to untangle.

She and Henry were getting along—better than she’d ever expected—but Emma made it seem effortless. Easy. Like loving people came naturally to her.

Being alone with Henry felt different.

More fragile somehow.

Like there would be no one there to smooth over silences or rescue awkward moments if Regina got something wrong.

Fortunately, her thoughts didn’t linger there long.

Once they finished eating, Emma practically bounced in her seat before announcing she had planned the next part of their date.

A movie theater.

More specifically, a showing of the live-action Cinderella.

Regina had commentary for nearly the entire thing.

Emma spent a concerning amount of time whispering, “You have to stop talking,” while trying not to laugh at the increasingly offended looks Regina gave the screen.

Still, despite herself, Regina secretly enjoyed it.

There was something strange and comforting about stories in this realm. Here, villains were redeemable. Evil Queens could be loved. Happy endings weren’t reserved for only certain kinds of women.

Maybe, in this world, she could be the princess too.

At some point during the movie, Regina glanced sideways at Emma, who was completely absorbed in the screen, blue-green eyes reflecting flickering light.

When she looked away again, her hand slowly drifted across the armrest until it rested lightly over Emma’s.

Then, after a brief hesitation, their fingers laced together.

Emma looked over immediately, pleased warmth spreading across her face.

Regina pretended not to notice, eyes fixed firmly on the screen instead of the violent pounding in her chest.

When the movie ended, Emma revealed she had one last thing planned.

By some miracle, she’d found a ballroom dancing soirée happening in the city that evening. It wasn’t overly formal—more like people gathering simply because they enjoyed dancing—so neither of them looked terribly out of place in leather jackets and boots.

Still, when Regina stepped inside, she paused.

The ballroom looked almost cathedral-like beneath the warm lights and sweeping ceilings, elegant enough to stir something old and familiar in her chest.

Emma stepped in front of her and offered out a hand with a playful little bow.

“May I have this dance?”

Regina chuckled softly, a smirk tugging at her mouth.

“You may.”

The moment she took Emma’s hand, the music swelled around them and they began to move.

“You’ll have to guide me,” Emma admitted as they settled into the rhythm. “I’ve never done this before.”

Regina raised a brow. “You’re surprisingly good for someone with no experience.”

Emma grinned. “Don’t be fooled. I’m making most of this up.”

Regina laughed under her breath and guided her through the steps, occasionally tapping Emma lightly beneath the chin whenever she caught her looking down at her feet instead of ahead.

Truthfully, Regina didn’t mind the excuse to keep Emma’s attention on her.

Out here, with music wrapping around them and warm light spilling across the dance floor, it almost felt like they existed separately from the rest of the room.

Like they were the center of their own little universe.

“We never got to do this in the Enchanted Forest,” Emma said quietly after a while, sounding almost wistful about it.

Regina’s expression shifted just slightly.

“That’s because I…” She hesitated, then huffed a small laugh beneath her breath. “I avoided hosting any balls while you were living with me.”

Emma blinked. “Seriously?” 

Regina gave her a look. “Anything potentially romantic was risky, I was already losing enough battles where you were concerned.”

That earned a grin from the blonde.

“So you banned ballroom dancing?”

“I banned opportunities,” Regina corrected smoothly.

Emma laughed softly. “And yet here we are.”

“Yes,” Regina said dryly, guiding her into another turn. “Tragically.”

Emma’s smile only widened.

Regina stepped closer again as the music slowed.

“Because this,” she said more quietly, eyes holding Emma’s now, “was exactly the sort of situation I was trying to avoid.”

Emma’s brows lifted slightly. “Us dancing?”

“Close proximity. Romantic lighting.” Regina’s lips curved faintly. “You looking at me long enough to realize I was something other than the Evil Queen.”

Emma’s expression softened immediately.

Regina noticed.

“That,” she murmured, “right there? Exactly the problem.”

But it didn’t make Emma look away.

If anything, the softness only deepened, a quiet laugh escaping her like Regina was being ridiculous and endearing all at once.

Regina rolled her eyes like she could feel the thought happening in real time, though it did nothing to hide the smile threatening at the corners of her mouth.

Then the music shifted.

The elegant rhythm of the ballroom dance faded into something slower, softer, and suddenly the couples around them moved much closer together.

Emma’s grin turned instantly smug.

“Oh,” she said, sliding her hands lower onto Regina’s waist. “Now this I know.”

Before Regina could question it, Emma gently guided her closer, lifting Regina’s hands to rest around her neck while she swayed them into the rhythm.

Regina blinked once.

Then looked around the room suspiciously.

“They consider this dancing here?” she asked dryly.

Emma laughed under her breath. “There are a lot of different kinds of dancing in this realm.”

Regina narrowed her eyes slightly. “That sentence alone concerns me.”

“Oh, you’d be horrified by burlesque.”

The brunette’s brow lifted immediately. “Well now I need to know what that entails.”

Emma grinned. “We’ll work you up to it.”

Regina rolled her eyes, but the sound of Emma’s laughter softened the expression before it could fully settle into annoyance.

The two of them drifted quietly with the music after that, neither speaking for a moment.

Dark brown met blue-green.

The words lingered between them again.

I love you.

So obvious now they barely needed saying.

And somehow still impossible to say aloud.

Regina’s gaze dropped briefly before she stepped just a little closer, the movement subtle enough to pretend it wasn’t intentional. After a second, she let herself rest lightly against Emma, her temple near her shoulder as she exhaled softly.

Not dramatic.

Not vulnerable enough to frighten herself.

Just… comfortable.

Emma immediately softened around her.

Something in her chest melted at the quiet trust of it, at the fact Regina was letting herself lean instead of always holding herself upright.

Emma’s hand rubbed slowly against Regina’s back as they continued to sway.

Neither of them commented on it.

After they’d finally exhausted themselves dancing, they headed back home, where Emma decided it was time to introduce Regina to another essential part of this realm:

Ice cream.

The two of them were tucked into opposite corners of the couch, knees brushing beneath a shared blanket.

Regina took one bite and immediately turned to stare at Emma in disbelief.

“And this,” she said slowly, brows furrowing with genuine offense, “wasn’t the first thing you introduced me to in this realm?”

Emma laughed around her own spoonful, holding up a hand in defense. “In my defense, we were a little busy.”

“Mm.”

“I already showed you pizza and coffee,” Emma continued. “Those are basically the first two food groups.”

Regina narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You can make it up to me by buying me more ice cream later.”

Emma snorted softly. “Oh, so now I’m in ice cream debt?”

Regina nudged her shoulder against Emma’s like the answer was obvious.

“Yes.”

Emma just smiled to herself.

She leaned back deeper into the couch cushions, setting her empty bowl onto the coffee table before turning slightly toward Regina, one leg tucked beneath her.

“So,” she said softly, eyes drifting over Regina’s face, “it doesn’t seem like you’re hating this realm so far.”

Regina angled toward her in return, still holding her bowl in one hand. She drew the spoon slowly from her mouth, making sure not a trace of ice cream remained behind.

Which was entirely unfair.

And judging by the way Emma’s eyes immediately dropped to her mouth, Regina knew she was fully aware of it.

“New York is loud,” Regina decided. “And these people don’t seem to retain any manners.”

Emma laughed quietly.

“But,” Regina admitted, softer this time, “I think I’m enjoying the fresh start.”

Emma’s expression warmed immediately.

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

She shifted further into the couch, elbow resting along the back cushion as she turned toward Regina fully, chin propped against her fist while she looked at her with quiet fondness.

They were quiet for a moment.

Then a glint of amusement flickered in Regina’s eyes. “I had a very nice time being courted today,” 

Emma grinned. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Well,” Emma said, unable to stop smiling, “I had a very nice time courting you.”

Regina’s smile softened briefly before she set her empty bowl beside Emma’s on the coffee table.

When she settled back against the couch, her hand came to rest lightly on Emma’s knee.

“And how,” Regina asked casually, though the slow circles her fingers traced suggested otherwise, “do people in this realm normally end these ‘dates’?”

Emma blinked, immediately a little flustered.

“Oh. Uh—” She scratched awkwardly at the back of her neck. “I mean… depends how the date went.”

Regina hummed thoughtfully. “And if it went well?”

Emma glanced down at Regina’s hand on her knee, then back up to her eyes.

“If I’m lucky,” she said with a small laugh, “maybe I get to hold your hand a little longer. Or kiss you goodnight.”

Regina’s fingers slowed against Emma’s knee.

“That’s all?” she asked softly.

Emma’s breath caught slightly at the look in her eyes.

“I mean,” she said with a nervous laugh, suddenly far less confident than she’d been moments ago, “I wasn’t exactly planning the rest of the evening.”

Regina tilted her head just slightly, studying her.

“No?” she murmured.

Emma swallowed.

There was something dangerous about the way Regina looked at her when she got quiet like this. Controlled. Intentional. Like she already knew exactly what effect she was having.

Slowly, Regina shifted closer across the couch cushion until their knees pressed fully together beneath the blanket. Her hand slid higher along Emma’s thigh, not enough to scandalize her, just enough to make Emma’s brain stop functioning properly.

“And what,” Regina asked, voice low and measured, “would it look like if you did plan the rest of the evening?”

Emma opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

That only deepened Regina’s amusement.

“You’re very easy to fluster, Miss Swan.”

Emma let out a breathless laugh. “You say that like you’re not doing it on purpose.”

“Oh, I absolutely am.”

The honesty of it hit harder than Emma expected.

Regina’s gaze flicked briefly to Emma’s mouth before returning to her eyes.

“And here I thought you’d be bolder after all that courting.”

Emma finally moved then, one hand instinctively sliding to Regina’s waist as if grounding herself before Regina could completely short circuit her.

“You’re playing dirty,” she murmured.

Regina leaned in slowly, close enough now that Emma could feel her breath against her lips.

“Did you expect anything less?” she said softly, smugness threading through every word. “I was the Evil Queen long before I was your girlfriend.”

Then she kissed her.

Slow.    

Certain.

The kind of kiss that immediately melted Emma deeper into the couch, her fingers tightening faintly at Regina’s waist as the brunette shifted closer, climbing halfway into her lap without ever breaking the kiss.

The apartment fell quiet around them.

No teasing remarks. No clever defenses left.

Just the soft catch of breath between kisses, the faint rustle of fabric beneath wandering hands, and the steady pounding of two hearts suddenly far too loud in the silence.

Chapter Text

Emma and Regina woke tangled together again, though this time with skin against skin, limbs threaded through sheets that had long since yielded to the night.

Of course, Regina woke first. She always seemed to.

Maybe some part of her still expected to open her eyes and find all of this gone.

For a while she simply watched Emma sleep beside her, soft morning light spilling across bare skin and rumpled blankets. There was something strangely intimate about this part to Regina. More intimate than the night before, somehow. The quietness of it. The softness. No walls left standing between them.

Then a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Leaning in, Regina pressed a trail of lazy kisses against the crook of Emma’s neck. When the blonde began to stir more noticeably beneath her, the kisses turned teasing—little nips and lingering sucks that drew a sleepy sound from the back of Emma’s throat.

Emma groaned softly but tilted her head anyway, stretching her neck in silent invitation.

“This is unfair,” she mumbled groggily. “You know that, right?”

Regina’s low chuckle vibrated against her skin.

“You’d prefer the absurdly loud contraption wake you instead?”

“I’d prefer,” Emma groaned, finally forcing herself upright, “to not miss work because I want to spend the entire day in bed. Which is exactly what’s going to happen if you keep doing that.”

Naturally, that only made Regina look more pleased with herself.

She leaned back against the pillows, propped up on her palms as she watched Emma move sleepily around the room gathering discarded clothes.

“Ah yes,” Regina drawled lightly, “your mysterious profession you insist on returning to.”

Emma snorted as she pulled on her shirt. “Unfortunately, yes. A girl’s gotta make a living.”

“Tragic.”

Emma shot her an amused look over her shoulder before her expression softened slightly.

“August dropped Henry off at the bus stop this morning, so he’ll be back around three.” She paused while tugging on her jeans. “You two gonna survive a couple hours alone together?”

Regina lifted a brow immediately, every trace of yesterday’s uncertainty hidden beneath practiced confidence.

“Emma,” she said dryly, “I’ve led armies. I believe I can manage two hours with an eleven-year-old.”

A quiet laugh escaped Emma.

Once she was dressed, she crossed back over to the bed and pressed a lingering kiss to Regina’s forehead.

Regina hated how quickly that softened her expression.

Eventually they wandered into the kitchen for breakfast—which, according to Emma, consisted of “the breakfast of champions” and turned out to be cereal poured into mismatched bowls.

Regina stared at it skeptically from across the counter.

“This is considered a meal?”

“It’s considered efficient,” Emma corrected.

Before leaving, Emma pointed toward the laptop sitting open on the nearby desk.

“If you need anything,” she said, “you can pretty much just look it up on there.” She nodded toward the screen. “Google has answers for basically everything.”

Regina narrowed her eyes slightly at the glowing page.

“That sounds… reckless.”

Emma laughed. “It’s convenient.”

Regina studied it for a moment longer. “So if I were to search something like—” she tilted her head slightly, “—the Shadow Realm… it would explain it to me?”

Her mind flickered back to Lilia, how she had promised she’d be back for more sessions.

Emma hesitated just a fraction. “Technically? Maybe. But it’s probably not gonna have your version of it.”

Regina hummed softly, absorbing that.

A beat passed.

“And if someone here doesn’t understand something about their own past,” she asked casually, “do they simply… look it up as well?”

Emma shook her head slightly. “Not really.”

She hesitated, then added a little more carefully:

“I mean, sometimes people talk to someone about it instead.”

Regina’s brow lifted. “Talk.”

“Yeah. Like… a therapist,” Emma said, leaning back against the counter, watching her gently. “Someone trained to help you sort through things that aren’t exactly answerable with a search bar.”

That made Regina pause.

“Like a shadow witch?” she asked, head tilting slightly. “Someone like Lilia?”

“Maybe,” Emma said with a small smile, “but with less seeing the future and more helping you figure out what you’re feeling when you don’t quite realize you’re feeling it.”

“Interesting…” Regina trailed off, eyes still on the glowing screen.

Emma pushed off the counter a little, straightening.

“I’ve got to get going,” she said, stepping closer. Her hand came to rest lightly on Regina’s head as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll see you in eight hours.”

Regina’s eyes softened at that despite herself. “I’ll see you then.”

The rest of the day was quieter than she expected.

Regina toggled between Google and the television, learning the rhythm of the apartment in small pieces. The stove. The microwave. The way the coffee maker clicked like it had its own opinion. She showered again later, still not entirely used to the strange ease of it all, and pulled on one of Emma’s shirts again without thinking too much about it.

Wide-legged jeans. A fitted tee tucked in. Her hair twisted up into a claw clip that felt absurdly practical.

When Henry came home from school, Regina looked up from the couch.

“Hi, Henry,” she greeted, standing as he came through the door.

“Hi, Regina!” he said brightly, dropping his backpack by the wall. “August said Mom showed you around New York yesterday. What did you think?”

Regina crossed her arms, considering it.

“I’ll admit,” she said, “it has its charm.”

Henry flopped onto the couch, and Regina settled at the other end.

“Did Mom get you cheesecake?” he asked immediately.

“She did not,” Regina replied. “Is she withholding essential experiences from me?”

Henry grinned. “There’s a place around the corner she always takes me on my birthday. Or special occasions.” He shrugged. “I think you being here counts.”

Something warm settled in Regina’s chest at that.

“I’m glad you think so,” she said softly. “I’m… enjoying being here.”

A pause.

Then, as if remembering something important, she stood again.

“Actually,” she added, “I almost forgot.”

Henry tilted his head.

Regina disappeared into Emma’s room—their room?—and returned a moment later carrying a box.

Henry’s eyes lit up instantly. “Woah—wait—is that—”

“Lego skee ball,” Regina said, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Not officially branded, but it is functional.” She had conjured it in fact. Though she noticed her magic was much harder to use without Emma around. 

“No way!” Henry jumped up to take it. “Can we build it now?”

Regina’s expression softened completely.

“I don’t see why not.”

So it was no surprise that when Emma came home, they were still working on it.

She stepped inside quietly—quiet enough that neither of them noticed her at first.

From the living room, she could hear them talking.

Regina and Henry were sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scattered Lego pieces and a half-finished skee-ball structure between them.

“This piece doesn’t seem to want to fit,” Regina said, holding up a small plastic block with mild scrutiny.

“Here, let me try,” Henry said, taking it from her with the easy confidence of someone who trusted himself completely.

A moment later, it clicked into place.

Regina let out a quiet huff of amusement. “Naturally good at things. Just like your mother.”

Henry grinned. “Yeah, she is pretty good at stuff, isn’t she?”

He glanced up at Regina, still smiling. “You are too, though.”

Regina paused slightly at that, hands hovering over the structure.

“Oh?” she asked lightly.

“Yeah,” Henry said simply. “You’re good at making Mom smile.”

Something in Regina’s expression softened before she could stop it.

“How observant,” she murmured, attempting casualness and only partially succeeding.

Henry shrugged like it was obvious.

“I notice things,” he said.

A small silence settled between them, comfortable for him, something more measured for her.

Then, as if continuing the same thought without much weight behind it, Henry added:

“I really love my mom. Especially when she buys me cheesecake.”

That earned a quiet laugh from Regina as she resumed placing pieces into the structure.

“I will keep that in mind,” she said.

Henry nodded, then tilted his head slightly, watching her work for a beat longer than before.

“Do you love my mom?”

The question landed cleanly.

Regina’s hands stopped mid-motion.

Not dramatically.

Not immediately.

Just enough that the room shifted around it.

Because she knew the answer.

She just hadn’t said it out loud yet.

“I think that question is better answered—” Regina paused, her attention shifting slightly.

She felt it before she saw it.

Emma’s presence, just beyond the doorway.

Not like the Enchanted Forest, where it had once meant danger closing in.

Something steadier now. Familiar. Unavoidable in a different way.

“…when your mother isn’t lurking in the doorway,” Regina finished at last, one brow lifting toward the hall.

A beat of silence.

Then Emma exhaled a quiet laugh and stepped fully into view.

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “You got me.”

“Woah!” Henry exclaimed, eyes wide. “How did you do that?!”

Emma and Regina exchanged a quick look.

Then Emma shrugged casually. “It’s like magic.”

She winked at Regina.

Which, unfairly, did terrible things to Regina’s composure. She cleared her throat lightly, smoothing a hand over the front of her shirt as though that might help.

“So,” Emma said, rocking back on her heels with her hands tucked into her back pockets, far too pleased with herself now that she’d been caught, “now that I’m no longer lurking in doorways…” Her smile turned smug. “I think there was a question being answered?”

Regina narrowed her eyes at her immediately.

“Was there?” she asked, one brow arching with practiced innocence.

But before Emma could answer, Henry suddenly sat upright.

“It’s done!” he announced triumphantly. “Regina, grab the skee balls!”

Regina’s smirk returned instantly, entirely aware Henry had just handed her a perfect escape route.

“How fortunate,” she murmured, already rising from the floor.

Emma watched her go with narrowed eyes of her own.

Regina returned a moment later carrying the tiny skee balls while Henry eagerly positioned himself at the end of the miniature lane.

His first roll shot immediately into the gutter.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned.

“The technique needs refinement,” Regina informed him very seriously.

Henry ignored her and tried again.

This time the ball rolled cleanly up the ramp and dropped into one of the higher scoring holes.

“Yes!” he cheered.

The whole thing was barely bigger than a shoebox, but Henry looked absurdly proud of it anyway.

Emma finally dropped down onto the couch beside Regina, their shoulders brushing lightly.

Then she nudged her once with her elbow.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of that that easily,” she murmured under her breath.

Regina kept her attention fixed very carefully on the skee-ball game in front of them. “I have no idea what you’re referring to,”