Chapter Text
“Emma, Amelia, dinner is ready!” Regina calls her wife and youngest daughter from the dining room.
She sets the lasagne in the middle of the table, and with a wave of her hand, three plates, three glasses and cutlery appear, all in its right place. She doesn’t usually use magic to accomplish domestic tasks, but the past few months have been difficult, and Regina is emotionally exhausted. Lately, without her magic, she feels like she wouldn’t be achieving much, if anything.
Regina sighs sadly. Three. She used to set the table for five, then for four when Henry left for college. Henry. She smiles wistfully as she thinks of her son. Her brave little prince is all grown up now with a family of his own.
The Swan-Mills household was down to four, until tragedy struck. Just a few months after she turned 16, their oldest daughter, Laura died after a 10 year-long, well-fought battle with Leukemia. Their precious girl had given it her all, but she was tired, the chemo wasn’t doing anything, so her mothers told her it was alright to close her eyes and let go.
***
Amelia hears her mom call, but she doesn’t move. She has no intention of going down to eat. She’s lying on her floor, right next to her bed and she stares at the ceiling. She inhales deeply and tightens her fists.
Her favourite dish, yet she’s terrified of it. Her stomach growls loudly and she winces. She will not be weak, she won’t cave in. She cannot. She has to be perfect now, for her moms, whatever it means. What is perfection? It’s confusing. Dr. Hopper says it doesn’t exist, but she knows he’s wrong. Laura was perfect. She was smart, funny, brave, strong and beautiful. Even in sickness, she still looked like a true princess.
Why can’t she be more like Laura? Why does she feel like she has to be more like Laura? Amelia just wants to be herself. Tears slowly trickle down her cheeks. Why isn’t she enough?
***
“Emma, Amelia?” Regina calls again.
“We’re coming, babe!” Emma yells from upstairs.
Fresh out of the shower, Emma heads down the hall and knocks on her daughter’s door before pushing it open. She finds her baby girl on the floor, her golden blonde hair sprawled beneath her forming a halo. She stands there silently for a moment and watches her daughter. She’s almost 16 now, Amelia is not a little girl anymore, but she’ll always be their baby.
“Hey Bug, you coming? Dinner is ready,” she asks softly so she won’t startle her daughter. Amelia’s magic has been unpredictable lately, and Emma doesn’t want to deal with another house fire.
“No. I’m not hungry.” Amelia answers with detached finality, and it makes the Saviour uneasy.
Frowning, Emma walks into the teenager’s room, sits on the edge of the mattress and gazes down at her daughter. Amelia looks so much like her sister. When they were little, before Laura’s illness, people would mistake them for twins, and the girls loved it.
Emma notices the tears, and her eyes are drawn to Amelia’s arms where angry self-inflicted scars criss-cross her milky skin. She takes a deep, calming breath when she spots fresh ones. Dr. Hopper says they shouldn’t make a big deal out of them, it wouldn’t solve anything. But to her and Regina, it is a big deal. Their child is suffering and they don’t know how to help.
She shivers inwardly, feeling helpless. She is supposed to be the Saviour, yet she is powerless in the face of her daughter’s inner turmoil. Emma can still hear her wife’s deafening scream when she found her daughter barely conscious with bloodied wrists the morning after Laura’s funeral.
“I can’t lose another child,” Regina sobbed as they waited outside Amelia’s hospital room. “I won’t survive it.”
“You won’t lose her,” Emma promised, wrapping her arms around her wife’s shaking body. She kissed her forehead and pulled Regina even close. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Why not, Bug? What’s going on?” Emma slips off the bed and sits on the floor next to Amelia.
Amelia shrugs. “I don’t think I can,” she confesses, refusing to look at her mom. She doesn’t know how to express what she’s feeling, and it frustrates her.
A fresh new wave of tears erupts from behind closed lids, and her shoulders shake as Amelia cries silently. Emma’s heart crumples in her chest, leaving her breathless. She never wanted her children to feel this way.
“Oh Bug, come here,” Emma whispers, pulling her daughter on her lap. “It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. Let it out.” She rocks Amelia back and forth, rubbing gentle circles on her back. Amelia clings onto her mom’s shirt, sobs wracking her small body.
“I… I don-don’t kn-know what’s hap-happening to me,” Amelia cries. Her chest heaves as she begins to panic, and Emma can feel the room tremble around them. The lights flicker and mirrors crack.
“You need to calm down, Bug,” Emma tries to sooth, “you’re okay.” She focuses her magic to counteract Amelia’s, and as she does, she detects Regina’s too. Emma looks up. Sure enough, her wife is there. Regina is always there for them.
Regina’s magic is like a warm blanket, and she cloaks her daughter with it, calming her almost instantly. Emma can feel her child relax in her arms and her breathing begins to slow down. Regina kneels next to the two blondes and gently removes Amelia’s glasses, wiping her tears with the pad of her thumb.
“Hello, Princess,” Regina says, offering a comforting smile. “Having a bad day? That’s okay, mommy’s here. We’re both here,” she reassures her. Regina strokes her daughter’s cheek with a gentle touch.
“Mom-mommy,” Amelia hiccups. Her lashes flutter, she’s so tired. She tries to fight it, but it’s no use, her mom’s magic is so calming, it’s making her drowsy.
“Why don’t you just rest for a little while, hm?” Regina suggests, combing her fingers through Amelia’s blonde curls.
She nods and transports them in a cloud of light orange smoke to Emma and Regina’s bed. Before the fumes are completely dissipated, Amelia is fast asleep in her mothers’ embrace.
Emma finds her wife’s hand, and their fingers interlace. Regina leans over their daughter and kisses Emma. The Saviour nestles her head into the Queen’s shoulder and she closes her eyes. They will be okay.
***
“Mommy,” Amelia murmurs, twirling a lock of Regina’s hair around her finger, “mom?”
Regina stirs awake and blinks slowly. “Hey, how are you feeling?” she whispers hoarsely.
“Better, I’m hungry,” Amelia admits, somewhat sheepish.
“Me too, Bug, me too,” Emma mumbles, her eyes still closed.