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The sun is warm against Regina’s olive skin as she tilts her head up at it, closing her eyes and sighing softly, as she emerges from the woods. She’d needed to clear her head after enduring another rant from her mother that morning; chastising her for not showing more interest in the ball being held for Princess Emma in a few days, where she should easily be able to find an eligible prince to court and, ultimately, marry her.
Regina rolls her eyes at the thought, once they’ve fluttered open to take in the grassy clearing sprinkled with wildflowers and the silhouette of the marketplace on the other side of it. To think that her entire purpose in life is to fulfill her mother’s ambitions of becoming a queen infuriates Regina. It always has. But she’s been raised and groomed to receive the title that she was born to inherit, until King Leopold took over her grandfather’s failing kingdom.
All of the lessons in royal etiquette, dancing, language, and thankfully, some other intellectual studies that will help her lead a kingdom, have been drilled into her head for the past twenty-four years. After all, no daughter of Cora Mills is going to be a queen who stands idly by her ruling husband, but she will be one who rules with him (at the very least). Honestly, Regina is fairly certain that her mother would see to it that she become the more respected and dominant monarch of one of the neighboring kingdoms through her inevitable marriage into royalty. Especially, after Cora's witnessing her father-in-law, King Xavier, ruin his own prospering kingdom, to the point that his heirs, aside from Regina’s late father, Henry, had met their demises in the unnecessary wars and poverty that had hurt the kingdom over twenty years ago.
Cora had never failed to make it very clear to Regina what she would have done differently to keep the kingdom rich and flourishing, instead of easily accepting a treaty at the benevolence of King Leopold, in which he took Regina’s family’s kingdom as his own, mercifully letting Regina’s parents keep the little remains of their wealth and granting them the titles of Lord and Lady, which extended to Regina. They’d also been able to keep the family’s smaller castle, that King Xavier had gifted Henry and Cora at their wedding, which had recently been deemed Mills Manor five years ago, after Regina’s father had suddenly passed away. Unfortunately, his death had only made Cora more hell-bent on ensuring her daughter marry someone of royalty and higher social status. And now that she was far older than twenty, marrying Regina off was even more pressing to Cora, though, many suitors mostly avoided Regina out of fear of her mother. Regina was somewhat relieved by that, however, since what she worried most about was becoming part of a convenient marriage that she wanted no part of.
Once the ball in honor of Princess Emma, daughter of Queen Snow and King David, and granddaughter of the late King Leopold, was announced, though, Cora had been more relentless than ever about Regina’s attendance there and how there would be consequences if there wasn’t a prince in their foyer the following day, requesting to court her daughter. According to Cora, Regina was dangerously close to becoming an old maid, and that was unacceptable with all of the energy Cora had poured into elevating Regina’s social status. Cora had even begrudgingly allowed Regina to hire her favorite seamstress to make her dress for the evening, even though Nellie had been relieved of her seamstress duties at the manor a few years ago. As long as Regina was at the ball, dancing with every eligible prince, Cora hadn’t care what she wore or if she’d rather be accompanied by her half-sister, Zelena, instead of her mother.
At least Regina had won those two battles…
She hears the liveliness of the marketplace as she nears it. The echoes of the people chattering as they walk around shopping for food and other goods, travels up and over the walls, becoming joined by the sounds of music and noises from the livestock. Regina rarely visits the marketplace, mostly because she doesn’t have a reason to. The few servants her family still has, are the ones who leave the grounds of Mills Manor to purchase any goods the family of three might need. But today, Regina desperately needed to get away from her mother, and so, walking to her appointment with her seamstress for the final fitting of her ballgown, seemed like the perfect idea. Now that she’s on her way back, though, she can tell the market is louder and busier than it was earlier, and she almost regrets not riding Rocinante out to Nellie’s cottage, instead.
As she enters the square, she immediately becomes swept up in the herd of people mingling, while adding vegetables to their baskets, bargaining for trinkets, and searching for the most promising horse, chicken, or cow. Her eyes fall on a puppet show being put on in the distance; the booth seems to be surrounded by more adults than children. She brushes her skirt and pulls the hood of her deep blue cloak up over her head, suddenly feeling eyes lingering too long on her face. Her stomach feels uneasy and she tries to make her way through the stands at a quicker pace without drawing more attention to herself. This is why she rarely comes here. She’d almost forgotten.
When she’s nearly free of the crowd and closer to the path back to the manor, something hits her arm. It’s hard and painful as it smacks her before dropping to the ground and rolling between her feet. Thankfully, her cloak and the sleeve of her dress beneath it lessen the force of the impact a bit. Still, her hand reaches up to rub the throbbing pain away, while her eyes fall to the apple on the ground--red and unbruised. She bends down to pick it up with her free hand, studying it with a frown, before she’s standing up to find where it had come from. As she turns, she’s met with someone else’s frown and a look of concern on their face, as they continue rushing over to her from the fruit stand a few feet away.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman hurries to apologize, even before she stops next to Regina. “Are you alright?”
It takes Regina a minute to register who’s speaking to her, especially because the marketplace is one of the last places such a meeting would be expected to take place and the other woman is dressed so casually, Regina can hear her mother’s patronizing comments in the back of her mind. The waves of her blonde hair are pulled back into a ponytail, aside from a few that hang softly to frame her face, and she’s wearing crème-colored riding pants with a white shirt tucked into them, a navy vest, and leather riding boots. Regina also hasn’t seen Princess Emma in person since they’d both attended a ball at King Midas’s castle about six years ago, and even then, they hadn’t really interacted. Emma had been fifteen then, and had spent most of the ball talking and laughing with her friends Red and Anna as they watched the guests dancing from a spot near the punch bowl. Regina, on the other hand, had been eighteen and had spent the night dancing with one gentleman after another, until her legs were so tired, she could barely lift herself into her carriage at the end of the night.
She continues to absentmindedly hold her arm, taking in the sincerity and worry in the deep green eyes that are fixed on hers. “Your Highness,” Regina begins, greeting her in the respectful manner she’s expected to. For a moment, she thinks to shrug it off, tell the princess that it’s fine, and continue on her way home, for both of their sakes. She can tell the princess feels badly about the situation. But it’s never easy for her to bite her tongue. And her arm is still throbbing and their families aren’t exactly fond of one another and Emma should be ruling a kingdom, not hitting innocent people with apples. Then, she notices the other two apples Emma is holding and the group of children who are waiting behind her, staring at the two of them, and anger bubbles up within her. “No, I’m not alright. And frankly, I’m finding it hard to understand why the heir to the throne would be hanging around the marketplace, throwing apples around. Are you that bored in your castle, now that you have no more ogres to fight?”
Emma’s brows knit at the bristling confrontation, obviously not having expected such a reaction. Regina can see how her jaw tenses but also notices the curious way her posture initially deflates before she forces herself to stand taller. Green eyes become sharp and glaring as the woman steps further into her space. “I believe you’ve forgotten yourself, Lady Regina,” Emma warns lowly.
“Have I?”
The rhetorical question is interrupted by a man walking over to them, his eyes serious as he tries to gauge the situation. “Your Highness, is everything under control?” He wonders as he stops beside her, his hand resting on her arm, while the hook that’s replaced the other one, falls beside his black pants.
“Everything is fine, Captain,” Emma assures, her eyes still locked on Regina’s. “It seems the lady is offended that I’d spend my time showing these children how to juggle.”
“Perhaps, instead of juggling for them, you can buy them the apples and some other food for their tables. Or are you forgetting that this is the less fortunate side of the kingdom that your grandfather had to save from my family?”
“Maybe if your mother hadn’t made a deal with the Dark One, their kingdom wouldn’t have needed saving,” the man comments loudly from beside Emma. There are whispers and the rumble of some nearby onlookers muttering in agreement.
Regina falls silent at that.
"Hook," Emma warns.
Plenty of people are watching them now, probably wondering if they need to come to their princess’s defense or worry that Regina may actually know of some way to put a hex on all of them. Regina feels her insides twist at that thought. Suddenly, all she wants is to get out of there.
The rumors. The reason she’s never felt accepted or wanted in this kingdom. The reminder that her family is the black sheep; that even the invitation to Emma’s ball is only a courteous gesture and probably not one that Queen Snow would have made if it wasn’t the honorable thing to do. Too many years of gossip and myths that have caused many to dislike, and even fear, Cora and her daughters.
She can tell how Emma has picked up on the stricken look that she can’t keep from her eyes; the way she glances past Emma’s shoulder instead, trying not to lose her composure. When her eyes find Emma’s again, she can see how the anger and frustration in them has begun to fade, and she’s now staring at her with pained understanding.
"You really should apologize to the princess, Lady Regina," Hook says almost threateningly.
“Hook,” Emma admonishes, and shakes his hand off of her. “Don’t.”
“She’s forgotten her place,” he mutters and Emma glares at him.
“I’m the one who hurt her with the damn apple, remember?” She crosses her arms and steps closer to Regina, silencing a few onlookers, who decide to pipe up with their own opinions on how the princess should be respected and how Regina deserved to get the piece of fruit thrown at her.
“Don’t listen to them,” Emma tells her softly, but it’s hesitant, like she’s unsure if there’s any way she can make the situation better. “It was an accident. You didn’t deserve it. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry I did.”
Regina feels her breath catch in her throat and her eyes become hot. Her gaze flicks down to the small space between them; too overwhelmed by Emma's defending her and the emotion she finds Emma looking at her with. She takes a deep breath and sighs softly. When she raises her eyes to Emma’s again there’s something else there—burning and captivating. Something she’s only seen in one other person’s eyes before…a few years ago. He's gone now, though. Her mother ordered the stable boy to leave and they both knew it was what was best.
Slowly, Emma reaches out to place a hand over the one Regina’s still holding her aching arm with. There’s a moment of quiet acceptance. A moment where the air is too thick and the contact too warm. But neither interrupts it. They only keep searching the other’s eyes, allowing themselves to be pulled in by the other.
Until Emma’s hand trembles and Regina flinches.
Regina steps back at the same time Emma hurries to pull her hand away. She can feel her eyes become dangerous as they shoot daggers at Emma. “Go back to entertaining the pirate with your juggling, Princess,” Regina sneers lowly, turning and leaving the marketplace.
Once she’s about halfway home, she stops. Her breathing is ragged and her nostrils flare with her leftover anger, before tears prick her eyes and she swipes them away.
The door to the main entrance shuts loudly behind her, echoing around the entranceway, as Regina walks into the small castle that belongs to her family. It’s late afternoon now and the sun is streaming down from the windows upstairs.
“Regina,” her mother calls sweetly from the parlor to her left, causing Regina to wince, while she’s in the middle of removing her cloak and handing it to one of the servants to put away. After she’s taken a deep breath, she walks over to the other room, finding her mother sitting in one of the ornate chairs with a book open in her lap and her sister on a burgundy sofa, running a brush through her flaming curls.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” Regina greets her, feeling Zelena’s pitying eyes on her and trying not to meet them.
“I believe you mean good evening, darling,” Cora corrects with a steady gaze and the smallest smile on her lips.
“I suppose it has gotten late.”
“It has,” Cora agrees with a nod, her attention falling to the book in her lap. “How was your final fitting with the seamstress?”
“Fine. The gown is beautiful,” Regina can’t help but smile at the memory of her reflection in the floorlength mirror as the smooth, orchid material of her dress had sat perfectly against her skin. “I’m very happy with it.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Cora smiles, but continues to peer down at the words in front of her. “Hopefully, you’ll still be able to wear it.”
Regina’s forehead creases, but her confusion doesn’t last long as her sister’s blue eyes glance up at her sympathetically. “What do you mean, Mother?”
“Well, dear, it has come to my attention that your invite should be rescinded.”
“Wha—?” Regina’s eyes widen and every bit of air rushes out of her. From the corner of her eye, she sees how Zelena’s hand stills before she lowers it to her lap, shifting uncomfortably against the fabric of the sofa.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t hear about your encounter in the market with Queen Snow’s daughter?” Cora eyes her with a menacing frown, her eyes cold. “One of the servants saw the entire exchange. You’re lucky she didn’t call for her guards.”
“There was no reason for her to,” Regina says as steadily as she can.
“You insulted her in front of the entire marketplace!” Cora chastises, standing from her chair.
“She hit me with an apple!” Regina reveals adamantly, but it sounds even more absurd once it flies off her tongue.
“She’s the Princess. The heir to the throne! Have you forgotten that?”
Regina flinches at her mother’s yelling, her eyes finally lowering to the floor. “No, Mother, I haven’t.”
“Then, please, explain your behavior to me because I don’t understand,” Cora says more calmly, eyeing her daughter expectantly.
“Shouldn’t you be happy? You despise her and her family,” Regina counters instead.
“Just because I loathe them, doesn’t mean I want to be further blacklisted,” Cora tells her sharply. “You better not have gotten yourself uninvited to that ball.”
“If I did, I can assure you, it would not bother me in the slightest,” Regina says without thinking.
“How dare you!”
“I never wanted to attend in the first place,” Regina fights back, and for a moment she’s sure Cora is going to strike her, but then the older woman's nostrils stop flaring and the rage dims in her eyes.
“You are going to that ball or you’ll find Rocinante’s stall empty when you get back,” she threatens lowly.
Coldness numbs Regina as it rushes down her body. Then, she tastes the bile that rises in her throat—anger, hurt, shame, and fear.
Her mother’s threats are never empty and she knows better than to challenge it. To tell her mother she would never do such a thing or can’t take her horse away. She would. She can. And the only thing that steadies Regina in that moment is remembering the gentleness and understanding that had been in Emma‘a eyes.
“Emma won’t remove me from the guest list.” Regina hears herself speak in a voice so tiny and raw it doesn’t even sound like her own.
It must sound certain enough because her mother’s shoulders become less tense and she only nods, before leaving the room.
Regina stands frozen in the middle of the room, her head bowed, with one hand clenched at her side and one sitting soothingly across her stomach. She attempts to calm herself; to stop the tremors that want to wrack her body.
After a few minutes have passed, she hears Zelena gently utter her name from her spot on the sofa.
“I need another minute,” Regina answers her with a raised hand, not turning around.
“Whenever you’re ready,” her sister offers, and Regina can hear the brush combing through her hair again.
The sun is moving lower in the deep blue sky as late afternoon fades into early evening. There are dozens of carriages behind the cognac one that Regina sits in across from Zelena, and another ten of them waiting ahead to drop off their passengers at the entrance to Queen Snow and King David’s castle. The faint sound of orchestral music can already be heard flowing from within the stone structure, while the booming echo of each guest being announced travels incoherently over the grounds.
“That dress really is flattering on you,” Zelena reaches out to run her hand over the long ruffles of the satin skirt with an admiring smile. “And the color is gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” Regina smiles back, fixing the strands of dark hair that are resting against the side of her face, before she brings her fingers to the flower that is tucked into the side of her bun.
“Stop fidgeting. You look amazing,” Zelena assures her. “There won’t be a single person in there who won’t want to dance with you.”
Regina exhales, shutting her eyes for a moment. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Unfortunately, Mother disagrees,” Zelena frowns. “Oh, and the princess must want you here.”
Regina raises an eyebrow in disbelief, questioning her sister, but feels something stir nervously in her stomach.
"Well, she never uninvited you," Zelena responds pointedly.
Regina’s not sure if that makes her feel better or not. She’s been troubled by her encounter with Emma for days and not because it angered her mother, but because she knows she behaved badly and owes Emma an apology. She still isn’t entirely sure what came over her or why she’d felt the need to lash out at the other woman, when all Emma was doing was trying to apologize, but it was a horrible first meeting and one that she has come to regret, even though, she’s not completely certain why she’s been as bothered by it as she has. Before the other day, they’d never even spoken.
“Looks like it’s our turn,” Zelena’s voice breaks through her thoughts. Then, the door opens and they’re both stepping down and making their way up the steps, across a corridor, and stopping at the top of another set of stairs that lead down into the great hall, where people are already talking, eating, dancing, and enjoying themselves.
“Lady Zelena,” is announced first, and Regina watches as her sister lifts her emerald dress and makes her way confidently down the staircase, stopping at the bottom where she smiles and bows toward the queen, king, and their daughter. Before Zelena moves to the side, Emma’s eyes are already catching hers, and Regina feels her stomach flutter. There is something intense about Emma’s gaze and she can’t look away, but then, Emma’s eyes shift downward, slowly traveling over her...making it hard to breathe.
When her name is finally said, it sounds like thunder rumbling past her, and she forces herself to start descending the stairs with her head held high, but her eyes are still focused on Emma. The princess's gown is simple but enchanting—white with several flowers sweeping across the waist. Her glittering tiara rests elegantly on her head, while her hair flows down in soft, golden waves. Regina can see the beginning of a row of flowers that are delicately placed along the back of it. She can’t bring herself to smile but knows her eyes are as full as Emma’s—not knowing what they want to say first and yet saying all of it.
Regina reaches the final step too quickly, and she slowly brings her gaze away from Emma’s and over to the other woman’s parents. She smiles and bows toward each of them. When she faces Emma again, though, something has changed. She almost seems withdrawn. Her eyes flick away too quickly after Regina bows and she doesn’t watch her leave to rejoin Zelena. She’d expected coldness or indifference because of how they’d left things, but to be studied so intensely, only to hardly be spared another glance, pricks icily at Regina, making her stomach plummet and frustration flare within her.
Perhaps, Emma doesn’t deserve an apology, after all.
“Fancy a dance with the princess?” Regina forces herself not to jump at the familiar voice taunting her over her shoulder. She turns her head toward her sister with a glare as she accepts the glass of red wine Zelena holds out to her. “After the way she ruffled your feathers the other day, I would think she’s the last person you’d want to mingle with this evening.”
“Perhaps, I’m contemplating my revenge,” Regina responds with a scowl.
Zelena snorts at that. “Sure, Sis. And that’s probably why she’s been trying so hard not to look at you since you entered the room. Poor dear must be terrified.”
“Zelena,” Regina says warningly.
Red curls brush against Regina’s face as the other woman leans in, so only her sister can hear her, “All I’m saying is, if someone looked me up and down the way you both did when you entered at the top of the stairs, I’d be doing an entirely different kind of dancing with them.”
Heat rises into Regina’s cheeks at the suggestive comment, and the glint she catches in Zelena’s eye tells her that she isn’t fooling her sister.
“She does clean up well,” Zelena continues with a nudge, her eyes knowing.
“You’ve made your point,” Regina grumbles lowly, taking a long sip of her wine.
“I’m only trying to help,” Zelena softens, shrugging a shoulder, clearly knowing she’s on the verge of pushing Regina too far. “Mother is hoping you’ll find the prince who will make you the queen she’s always wanted you to be. How delicious would it be if you returned home with the announcement you’re courting Princess Emma instead?”
“She’s infuriating.”
“Mother or Emma?”
Regina bites the inside of her cheek, allowing the ambiguity of her silence to be her answer.
“If it makes you feel any better, Emma is the only one here who appears more miserable than you.”
As she sips her wine, Regina’s eyes remain fixed on the princess moving gracefully with the man she’s currently dancing with. He twirls her around, the waves of her golden hair lifting ever so slightly with the motion, while her silver tiara catches the candlelight of the chandeliers above them. Regina finds herself mesmerized with each (surprisingly) graceful step and every changing expression. Without warning, green eyes suddenly meet hers. It’s the first time Emma has looked at her purposefully and without tearing her gaze away from Regina’s as quickly as possible since they’d greeted one another. Instead, this time, it’s Regina who flicks her eyes away and clears her throat. “I think I need some air.”
But before she can make her escape, she notices Emma’s white gown swaying in her peripheral vision. The other woman is closer now. Regina can’t help the way her eyes begin to move up the material of the other woman’s dress, pausing once more at the delicate flowers tastefully embroidered along her waist. Then, they rise to the hand resting against Emma’s bare back. A sour taste forms in her mouth as the hand moves lower, almost too familiar in the way it holds the princess tighter. She can see the way Emma tenses, becoming rigid, at the clearly unwanted touch.
“Here,” Regina hands her wine glass to Zelena without a second thought, and makes her way over to where Emma is now dancing a little further away.
With a slightly trembling hand, Regina reaches out to rest it purposely against the back of Emma’s dance partner’s shoulder, stopping them. As he turns toward her, Emma eyes her curiously but doesn’t say anything, and for a moment Regina also wonders what she’s doing and whether she’s misread the situation. “Sorry to interrupt,” she manages not to stammer as she offers the man a small smile. “There’s something very urgent I must speak with the princess about, if I may steal her from you for a minute?”
The man looks at her confused, but then he glances at Emma with questioning eyes. She nods and forces a smile, quickly detaching herself from him. He bows toward her and gestures for Regina to step in.
“Thank you.” She smiles up at him as sweetly as possible, slightly shocked by his willingness to leave Emma, but thankful not to have created a scene. He mutters something about Emma finding him later if she wants, which makes Regina roll her eyes, earning her a short chuckle from Emma that can’t possibly go unnoticed by the man as he walks away.
Once they lose sight of him, however, something shifts, and neither of them seem to know what to do in the unexpected situation they find themselves in. They stand there frozen for a few long moments; the music sweeping over them as everyone dances around them.
Eventually, Emma attempts a small, grateful smile, “Thank you.”
“You seemed...uncomfortable.”
“He was getting pretty forward and presumptuous,” Emma nods.
Silence falls over them again. Though they’re standing more to the side, they can feel the buzz of energy from the dance floor as the couples continue to move with the music.
“I believe I owe you an apology,” Regina says, after a long moment of not trusting her voice to work without betraying her. “I was wrong in how I acted the other day. There was no reason to be so rude and unfair to you,” Regina tells her sincerely as regret tinges her words. “You were only trying to apologize and I lashed out at you when I shouldn’t have. I’m truly sorry for that.”
“Thank you,” Emma smiles softly in acceptance. “I didn’t mean for that to go the way it did. I really wish we could have met on better terms.”
“I do too,” Regina smiles in agreement.
“Too bad you didn’t see me juggling before that apple flew out of my hand,” Emma grins cockily. “I think you would’ve been very impressed.”
Regina looks disbelievingly at Emma, but she can’t keep an amused smirk from appearing on her lips, before she rolls her eyes with a short laugh, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“Well, I am.” Emma’s grin grows, as she confidently takes Regina’s hand. “You know, thanks to someone’s brilliant idea, those kids each had an apple to eat that afternoon and I had enough food delivered to their homes to last the entire week.”
Regina’s eyes widen slightly at that and her heart swells with warmth. “I’m sure they’re very grateful,” she offers softly.
“As am I,” Emma tells her. “We make a good team. You know what your people need and I can do what needs to be done to ensure that they receive it.”
“My people?” Regina questions with some confusion, suddenly reminded of their families’ history and how wrong this interaction—the way she keeps forcing her heart not to flutter at Emma’s presence really is.
“Well, our people. But they were once part of your family’s kingdom,” Emma rattles on in explanation, appearing to have caught on to Regina’s sudden uncertainty and discomfort.
“Yes,” Regina mutters, and it’s probably colder than she intends.
“I only meant that you understand them in ways I cannot. I want to be of help to them…to do what is right for all of this kingdom.”
Regina sees the sincerity in Emma’s eyes and knows she means every word. She admires her for it and feels the warmth return inside her; coiling within her. She reaches out to squeeze Emma’s hand. “I believe you. And I’m sure I can help you with that, if you really do want my help, that is.”
“Look, I know from my reputation you think I’m some immature, spoiled princess, who can’t sit still and would rather be fooling around without a care in the world, spending time with peasants and commoners, or off fighting ogres and dragons, instead of taking on my duties as princess and learning how to take care of an entire kingdom. I’m sure many people think that—I know they do. But I do care and I am stepping up. It’s just that sometimes I need a break. I need to be…real. Emma. You know?”
Regina searches Emma’s eyes. The openness, the vulnerability, the uncertainty. She allows Emma’s words to really sink in and yes, she does know; she gets it. Wanting to be free from the feeling of suffocating and losing yourself to everything you’re expected and supposed to be. Needing to run and breathe and find something that makes you feel like it’s all worth it.
“I do,” Regina reveals honestly, squeezing Emma’s hand again, silently telling her she appreciates what Emma has said and does understand.
“Maybe we can start over?” Emma suggests after another long moment, before looking over the dance floor, only to turn back to Regina with some hesitation. “And maybe I can ask you to dance with me? Unless you still think I’m irresponsible and childish,” Emma quips, but Regina can see the nervousness in her eyes and the hope that she won’t be rejected.
“So you do want to dance with me,” Regina wonders quietly, remembering the way Emma had appeared to be purposely avoiding her all night.
“More than anything,” Emma admits lowly; seriously.
“You didn’t seem to want to before,” Regina challenges, but it’s more confused than accusing.
“You walked away the other day,” Emma reminds in explanation, sounding remorseful. “I didn’t think you’d even want to speak with me. I thought you might not even show up tonight.”
“My mother would have never allowed that,” Regina replies darkly, and she sees the worry flash through Emma’s eyes. “I’m supposed to be on a mission to find my one true love, who will make me his queen,” she elaborates bitterly. “Mother’s orders.”
“Having any luck?” Emma wonders, sounding far more interested in the answer than she probably should be.
“I’ve declined multiple invitations to dance, if that answers your question,” Regina offers coyly.
“And does that include mine?” Emma asks, sounding more confident than the hopeful expression on her face that falters with her nervousness.
Regina tries to ignore the way her heart skips a beat and offers Emma a small smile. “I would like us to start over, too,” she reveals, before slowly reaching out to take Emma’s hand and move it to her waist. “Dance with me,” she whispers, stepping into the other woman’s space, her eyes locking intently on Emma’s.
Green eyes fall to where Emma’s hand rests against Regina, before they find hers again—heavier and so captivated. She steps closer, taking Regina’s other hand and tightening her hold. It’s comfortable, secure, and so intimate. It’s safe and familiar, even though, it’s new. And Emma gives her a moment to put some distance between them if she wants, but Regina doesn’t. Instead, she feels herself drawn further into Emma, before they allow the slow tempo of the music to sweep them up—swaying, spinning, and moving them. Their eyes hold each other as they lose themselves in the overflowing, soothing seas staring back at them. They relax further into the other’s hold, fitting together so easily, they’re not sure they could ever belong anywhere else.
As the songs change and change again, they continue to glide around the room, and soon it begins to fade away—a muted background, except for the soft hum of the instruments guiding them. Emma spins Regina, only to pull her close to her when she pulls her back into her arms. There’s a soft laugh from Regina before she fully becomes aware of Emma’s body pressed to hers.
“I want to show you something,” Emma murmurs into her ear, leading her away from the hall of people, toward another staircase behind them, and through a corridor, before she brings them out onto a balcony.
The sky is covered in pink and orange hues that fade into each other, and dim stars are already trying to shine through.
“It’s beautiful,” Regina sighs contentedly, walking over to the other side and leaning against it, so she can look over the grounds and the vastness before her.
“It’s one of my favorite spots, especially at this time of day,” Emma shares, her bare shoulder brushing against Regina’s as she comes to stand beside her. “Magical.”
They stare out at the horizon, taking in the sight of the kingdom spread out before them as it appears to meet the edge of the blushing sky.
She can feel Emma turn to her, her eyes lowering, before her fingers brush over the top of her arm. “No bruise,” Emma observes, and it’s breathy.
“No, no bruise,” Regina repeats, just as hushed; her head lowered as she watches the way Emma’s fingertips flutter over her skin more and more confidently. A shiver runs up her spine and Emma releases the softest chuckle at the goosebumps both of them can see dotting olive skin.
“You’re beautiful,” Emma murmurs, her head closer to Regina’s now. “Remarkable,” Emma continues, and Regina’s eyes fall closed. “Maddening,” Emma finishes, turning toward her, and Regina feels her body do the same as she slowly opens her eyes to find Emma’s.
“Maddening?” She asks, because it should sound negative but sounds more like a compliment coming from Emma.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” Emma confesses. “And I know I should have because of everything with our families and the fact that we hardly know each other, but I—I feel like I do know you. Like I always have,” Emma rambles, and Regina feels her heart beat harder. Faster. “And whatever it is I don’t know, I want to know. Everything.”
“I know,” Regina manages to croak out, though her throat feels dry and her mind can’t seem to come up with any of the words she wants to say. Instead, she lifts her hand hesitantly to Emma’s face and caresses her cheek. Emma’s skin is warm against her palm and her eyes flutter shut as they both suck in a breath. “I really do know.”
When Emma’s eyes open again they’re mesmerizing. They’re filled with want, desire, awe, and something so fierce, Regina feels her knees weaken. Emma’s hand meets hers, covering it, so they’re resting together along Emma’s cheek. A silent question fills jade eyes, and as soon as it’s answered, Emma’s head descends slightly and Regina tilts hers forward. Their lips meet—softly, gently, lightly. Brushing just enough to create a spark. But then, Regina wants more and she presses hers harder to Emma’s, who eagerly reciprocates as her hand finds Regina’s neck.
Lips part, tongues seek and entice, and heat flares and pools within them. Their arms lower to pull each other closer; hands searching and slipping over the silky bodice of each other’s dresses. Chests rise and fall heavily as they press against each other, and Regina’s back bends as it meets the smooth cement at the edge of the balcony. Moans transform into whimpers as Emma’s hands dance along Regina’s torso, their bodies as close and molded together as they can be.
Their mouths continue to seek each other; coming together and moving with each other, unable to get enough. It’s only when Emma’s lips descend to Regina’s neck and the warmth of Emma’s breath on her skin causes Regina to tremble hard, that they suddenly stop, and take a moment to breathe.
“We should probably stop,” Emma says through her heavy breathing; an amused, happy smile on her face as she finds Regina’s hooded eyes, placing one more kiss on her lips.
“Probably,” Regina concurs with a nod, her mind still hazy. She moves away from the balcony’s edge, taking Emma’s hand and knitting their fingers. “I can still hear the music,” she states, and smirks as she guides Emma’s hands around her waist. They move with it again, but it’s slower and simple and just them. No learned steps or other people watching.
“I want to show you something,” Regina whispers against Emma’s ear after a while. She lets Emma’s hand go for a moment, and makes a sweeping gesture with both of her hands before opening her palms. Beams of light spring from them, catching in the air, and twinkling around them. It’s breathtaking. Magical.
Emma stands there with her mouth agape. She looks stunned and slightly confused, and nervousness begins to creep up in Regina. Maybe she was wrong to show her this. To reveal her powers. Her magic. The magic that there are rumors about. The magic that people fear her mother has, too.
"This—" Emma breathes after a moment, but she's still taking it in and falls silent again. Regina doesn't stop watching her. Her eyes focus on the way the reflection of the lights surrounding them twinkle in Emma's and how they dance across her face. "Wow."
She finally looks toward Regina, and her expression changes into one of total amazement. It's not angry or terrified or judgmental.
There's only awe.
"You do have magic," Emma states, and Regina is surprised by how accepting and not entirely phased the other woman is. “Thank you for this,” she smiles so big and grateful, and then she’s lifting Regina into the air and spinning her. Regina melts into Emma as she embraces her.
Once Regina's feet are on the ground again, Emma separates from her a little.
“Maybe you can teach me,” Emma’s eyes meet hers mischievously and her lips quirk up as tiny sparks dance at the tips of her fingers.
Regina catches them with hers and brings them to her lips. “Your parents…true love,” she utters with some surprise, but also knows how much sense it makes.
Emma only nods.
“I think teaching you can be arranged,” Regina promises, her eyes dancing.
"Maybe if I'm able to impress you with that, you'll say yes to courting me," Emma teases but there's something serious in her eyes that tells Regina the answer is so much more important to her than she's making it seem.
Regina doesn't say anything for a moment, but then she tilts her head to Emma's, capturing her lips. "I don't think that will be necessary," Regina pulls back with a small grin. "I don't think I could say no to courting you."
Emma's eyes widen and Regina's heart warms at the happiness and relief glowing in them.
"But you get to tell our parents," Regina informs her, earning an eye roll from Emma.
"I believe you mean we."
"I can be there for moral support, I suppose," Regina smiles teasingly, and Emma pulls her to her, kissing her, before they begin to sway to the distant melody of the orchestra again.
And for now it’s enough. Dancing is enough. Sharing this much is enough.
They can deal with their families later. Any of the obstacles that may come.
Because somehow, they know that this could be their happily ever after.
That somehow this was always meant to be.