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“Happy Anniversary,” Emma said cheerfully, striding into the office and sitting on the chair directly across from the oversize leather one Regina was in.
Regina bit back a sigh of impatience. “Please. Make yourself at home.”
Predictably, the sarcasm went as unnoticed as it was unnecessary. Emma was already making herself at home. She always did.
No one else dared to enter her home or office without proper warning, but Emma had an annoying way of walking right in and inserting herself into whatever part of Regina’s life she felt like invading.
“Thanks,” Emma answered, lifting her feet onto the desk and stretching back in the chair.
Regina watched silently, only half hoping she would fall backwards in the chair and tumble to the ground. Emma’s confidence required a sense of entitlement she should find galling. She likely would, had it been anyone else, but this was Emma. Expressing displeasure was a waste of time.
“Well?” she asked irritably when several moments passed and she was no closer to learning the reason for Emma’s surprise visit.
“Well, what?”
“You said Happy Anniversary. What anniversary have I forgotten?”
It wasn’t the anniversary of her coronation. That was still several months away; a light at the end of what was turning into a very long and dark tunnel.
Neither one of them were married or in a serious relationship. Emma had given up on the idea of marriage shortly after Hope was born and Regina was simply too busy to even consider the idea of dating.
Too busy. Yes, that was the reason she had rejected the advances of every Prince Regent in her newly united kingdom.
The only other anniversary she could think of was the anniversary of the date Emma had first come to town. That one wasn’t until October; a fact she told herself she only remembered because it coincided with Emma’s birthday. There was little the denizens of Storybrooke enjoyed more than a royal birthday celebration, so it wasn’t as though she could forget it.
“Oh, that.” Emma waved her hand dismissively. “It’s the six-month anniversary of the last time we hung out.”
“Is it?” She thought about it for a moment. That couldn’t be right, could it? “Wait a minute. We had dinner together last week.”
“At the diner with my parents and Zelena. When was the last time you and I spent any time alone together?”
She told herself she couldn’t remember, and that she could hardly be blamed for it. The Queen of the United Realms of Mythology and Fairy Tale (they really needed to work on a better name for their kingdom) was not exactly a figurehead. Merging the independent, mostly outdated, governments of so many lands had been a headache she had not been prepared for. Though she had held the job for less than a year, there were times she felt as though she had aged a decade since the day they had placed the crown on her head.
An act they had done entirely without her consent, she might add. Ambushing her with a torrent of love and acceptance in front of all her friends and family wasn’t the same thing as asking her if she even wanted the damn job.
“You don’t know, do you?” Emma asked triumphantly. Regina shook her head silently. “Well, I’m here to tell you it has been exactly six months.”
Regina arched a brow in her direction. “Impressive that you would know that.”
Emma didn’t answer and the uncomfortable silence that followed made Regina think back to the last night they had spent in each other’s presence. Emma had shown up at the mansion with several bottles of wine, waving a piece of paper in her hand.
“No more denying your feelings, Regina. This paper means I’m a free woman.”
Clearly Emma had gotten a head start on drinking before arriving, but Regina ignored the obvious signs of intoxication in favor of reaching for the document in her friend’s hand.
“Pretty amazing that a stupid piece of paper means Hook gets to just abandon his baby and sail around the world. Hey, I have plenty of paper at my house. I even have a pen. I can do anything I want. The power is limitless.”
Her voice broke on the last word and Regina looked up in alarm to find tears in Emma’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Emma.”
She hadn’t been sorry to see the last of Hook nor was she sorry to note that, despite the obvious pain in Emma’s eyes, there was a light in her eyes she hadn’t seen in a long time. But she had been sorry that Emma was hurting, and it had simply been easier to focus on that than on the glimmer of hope that had crept its way up her spine at the realization that Emma had chosen her as the person to turn to at that moment.
Emma waved her hand, and the paper went flying. It fell to the ground silently, but neither woman tried to pick it up. “Fuck being sorry. Drink with me, Your Majesty.”
Emma had gotten so drunk that night that it was a surprise she even remembered it had happened. Regina had indulged as well but had remained sober enough to ensure her friend was safe and did nothing she would come to regret.
Her cheeks went a little pink when she remembered the surprising turn the evening had taken. Emma had tried to kiss her and after refusing her advances several times, she had finally given in and kissed her back.
“I really fucked things up between us, huh?”
Regina blinked in surprise and glanced curiously at her friend to find her smiling sadly. To her surprise, Emma’s cheeks were pink as well, which didn’t really add up, considering there was no possible way she remembered what had happened that night.
“What do you mean?”
“Look.” To Regina’s surprise, Emma let her feet fall to the ground with a thud and leaned forward in her chair. Her expression turned serious and, try as she might, Regina could find no signs of the humor that had been dancing in her friend’s eyes since she entered the office. “I don’t know what happened that night. I honestly don’t remember.”
She glanced away from Regina’s gaze as she spoke and Regina had to wonder, not for the first time, if she was being told the entire truth about how much Emma remembered about that night.
“What night?” she asked weakly.
Emma rolled her eyes and didn’t bother with a response. “I’m guessing that whatever I said or did that night upset you. You haven’t been the same since. So, whatever I did to make you feel like you need to avoid me, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me anymore.”
She almost had to laugh at the idea that Emma thought she was angry with her. Truthfully, she had been so caught up in self-recrimination for allowing herself to give in to temptation and take advantage of Emma’s vulnerable state, that it left little room to feel anything else.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said, eager to erase the look of regret she saw in Emma’s eyes. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?”
“Yeah?”
She forced a smile onto her face, trying not to let Emma see the torrent of emotion she was cautious to always keep carefully hidden away. Seeing Emma always brought forth the most confusing combination of joy and self-loathing at her own feelings. Top all that off with the sharp arousal that always seemed to spring to life at the sight of the Savior and it left no room for doubt that Emma was right. She had been avoiding her.
No more, though.
“Yes, of course. Come by around seven, all right?”
Emma made a face at the suggestion. “Why so late?”
She gave in to the urge to laugh at the adorable pout on Emma’s face. “I don’t think anyone would reasonably consider seven late, Emma.”
“Yes, it is. How’s four? Can I come by at four and help you cook?”
Once again, she chuckled at her friend’s eagerness and mentally disposed of her list of things to do before leaving the office that had become her very well decorated prison. “Fine,” she agreed, the smile of amusement still playing at her lips. “I will see you at four.”
-------------------------------
Meeting Emma at her home at four meant that she had to leave the office no later than three. She couldn’t exactly say she was displeased with the idea; she honestly could not remember the last time she had departed work while the sun was still out. This was true even now, in March, when the days were lengthening and the sun rarely set until later in the evening.
She didn’t really need a full hour to prepare for Emma’s arrival. The house was in perfect condition, as it always was, and she was dressed appropriately enough. The gowns she used to wear as the Queen were now strictly reserved for special occasions and she went to work each day in a practical business suit. A bit formal for an evening at home with a friend, but she had always like the black pantsuit she was wearing that day and decided against changing.
She did, however, need the full hour to prepare herself mentally for the inevitable storm of emotions that would hit her as soon she shut the door behind her guest. No doubt, it would start with sweaty palms and nervous chuckles the moment it registered they were alone together. Before long, her mind would drift to the last time Emma was at the mansion and the natural way their lips had seemed to fit together when she had given in to her desire and returned Emma’s drunken affection.
Fuck.
It was already happening. She hastily grabbed her bag and departed before anyone could see her in this state. If it wasn’t quite three yet, well, no one would dare quibble the details. At least, not out loud.
Because it was still so early, she left her car at Town Hall hoping the short walk home would settle her nerves. It didn’t work and by the time she arrived at home, the only thing she could think to do was stare at the bottle of Merlot on her kitchen table with longing.
Drinking was a bad idea, wasn’t it?
Drinking would likely just make things so much worse. It would make her reactions to Emma’s proximity so much sharper, and the common sense she needed to keep her mouth shut would likely all but fly out the window.
She warred with herself a moment longer before giving in with a sigh. ‘ Just one glass ,’ she reasoned. She needed it to relax her nerves.
She had just poured the glass and taken a sip when the doorbell rang. It couldn’t be four already, could it? She glanced up at the clock and the sip hastily turned into a big gulp when it revealed that she had stood in her own kitchen arguing with herself for far longer than she had realized.
The door opened before she even got there, and she welcomed the chance to slip behind her customary veil of sarcasm and disdain. “It is customary to wait for your host to open the door, you know.”
Emma ignored her entirely and nodded at the glass in her hand. “Getting an early start?” Regina cursed silently when the flush rose in her cheeks again, but Emma just laughed at her. “Don’t feel bad,” she said, waving the bottle she was holding in her hand. “Looks like we had the same idea.”
Regina shook her head with a laugh, allowing the mask to fall away. What the hell, it’s not like it ever lasted very long when Emma was around, anyway. “Come on in.”
-------------------------------------
“Ok, but seriously!” Emma chortled. “What was he thinking?” She rolled around on the floor, clutching her stomach as Regina regaled her with the tale of Charming threatening her life when portal had opened, taking Snow and Emma to the Enchanted Forest.
“I don’t know!” Regina laughed. The story was far from funny but Emma’s reaction to it was nothing short of delightful. “He threatened me with a sword. A sword!”
“When your magic had just woken up! He’s lucky he’s still alive.”
Emma sighed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes and reaching for her glass. The bottle of Merlot was long since gone and they were halfway through the bottle she had brought with her to the mansion. A bottle Regina had sniffed and declared to be swill but appeared to have no trouble keeping down. “Why haven’t we done this sooner?” she asked.
“Gotten drunk?” Regina thought about it for a moment. Six months ago notwithstanding, she couldn’t recall ever drinking with Emma, and that didn’t really count because she had stayed mostly sober. “We tried once before, if I remember correctly.”
“Oh yeah. The night the Forest Fire left town with your sister-turned-Maid Marian.”
Regina glared at her, but it felt forced, at best. “It is rude to speak ill of the dead, Emma.”
Emma shrugged. “Believe me, Forest Fire is the nicest thing I could call him, after the way he treated you.” Regina hummed her disapproval but didn’t argue. She had had too many years to conclude that Robin had been a safe choice for her, but one she had never made for herself. Older and wiser now, she would surely do things differently, had she had the chance.
“Why didn’t we?” Emma asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
“I believe Henry interrupted us.”
“Oh yeah,” Emma recalled, breaking into laughter once more. “That little twat block. If we could do that night over again, I would tell him to get lost.”
Regina cocked an eyebrow. “I would have cursed you into oblivion,” she said mildly. Emma shook her head, still clearly amused.
“Nah,” she said. “You wanted to let loose that night too. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong,” Regina replied automatically, but there was no conviction in her tone and she knew Emma could hear it. She shrugged, giving up. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Never get tired of hearing that,” Emma said, shooting a cheeky grin her way.
“Likely because you hear it so infrequently.”
Emma’s eyes cleared and for a moment, Regina wondered if she was actually as drunk as she had believed. “I’m wrong about a lot,” she said.
“Indisputably,” Regina agreed, but she continued to study Emma’s face, wondering just how seriously to take her.
“I was wrong to marry Hook.”
Regina’s breath caught. “What makes you say that?” She held her breath, waiting to hear something about the type of man Hook had turned out to be, but nothing could have prepared her for what Emma said next.
“I knew I didn’t love him. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. And I knew it.”
She desperately wanted to question why she couldn’t love him, but was just sober enough to recognize that it was probably a question best saved for another time. Still, her curiosity would not allow her to drop the matter entirely. “Why did you marry him then?” she asked instead.
Emma shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do. Everyone wanted me to.”
“I didn’t,” Regina argued. She held her breath again, waiting for Emma’s response to that. Emma slowly raised a hand and cupped her cheek.
“No,” she agreed quietly, looking directly into Regina’s eyes. “No, you didn’t.”
For a moment, neither one of them spoke, then Emma dropped her hand with a laugh. “Hey, tell me something,” she said. Regina took the abrupt change of conversation in stride.
“What?”
“What’s it like being Queen? Do you just love the power?”
Regina thought about it for a moment. The power that she had once craved felt stifling now, likely because she appreciated the awesome responsibility that came with it. The last time she had been Queen, she had been so focused on her singular goal of revenge that the responsibility had not weighed on her. It was different now.
She glanced up to see Emma still waiting for her answer. “Exhausting,” she admitted at last.
“You could have some fun with it, you know.”
Regina laughed. “What kind of fun?”
“You could come up with some really outrageous laws. Make the people really regret this fake democracy they came up with as government.”
Regina raised an eyebrow again. “Fake democracy?”
“You know,” Emma said, waving her hand dramatically. “Electing you as ruler behind your back and then telling you about it on the day of your coronation.” Regina froze, staring at her in surprise. How had Emma known how much she had hated being ambushed with the crown? She was certain she had told no one.
“Seems kind of pointless to elect a Queen,” Emma continued, pouring them both another drink. “I mean, we have no Constitution, no system of checks and balances. What is different about this type of monarchy, other than that you were chosen for it, instead of being born into it?”
Fair question; one she did not have an answer for.
“So, what did you have in mind?” Regina asked. Emma laughed and pulled out her phone.
“You should write some truly outrageous laws,” she encouraged. “Like, completely out there, that they will have no choice but to obey.”
“Such as?”
“Oh! Oh! I know! You could cancel Christmas,” Emma suggested.
“I’m not trying to get beheaded, Emma,” she replied. “Besides, what do you have against Christmas?”
“You mean, other than parents scaring their kids into behaving by threatening them that a made up person won’t leave them gifts?”
“You truly haven’t learned by now not to assume that someone isn’t real simply because you haven’t met them. Incredible.”
Emma stared at her, momentarily stunned. “Are you telling me Santa is real?”
“I’m simply telling you to open your mind a bit.”
“So, what, then? The North Pole is in Storybrooke?”
“Of course not,” she sighed, exasperated. “The North Pole is at the North Pole.”
“Right. Duh, of course.”
“However,” Regina continued as though she had not been interrupted. “Santa’s Grotto, which most people believe is at the North Pole, is in Arendelle. About forty-five minutes from here, hidden behind several powerful protection spells.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“Ok, fine. Forget Christmas. Don’t want Santa taking out his anger at me on Hope. I know! How about you make Halloween a monthly event?”
“All Hallows Eve is an ancient tradition, rooted in several beautiful cultures, Emma. Including my own, I might add. What reason would I possibly have to disrespect that?”
Emma made a face. “You’re no fun. But that’s ok. We can just look for inspiration.” She waved her phone to illustrate her point.
“Look for inspiration where?”
“Right here,” Emma replied, coming over to sit beside the Queen. She sat close enough for them both to peer at the screen in her hand and the smell of her shampoo hit Regina’s nostrils so hard, it made her want to scramble back in protection of her own senses.
Who would have thought that the scent of fake coconut could evoke this type of reaction?
“Come on,” Emma encouraged, seemingly oblivious to Regina’s struggle. “There are some truly stupid laws on the books. Let’s look them up.”
She could come up with no argument, seeing as how she was still fighting with herself not to knock the phone out of Emma’s hands and tackle her to the ground to kiss her breathless. Emma took her silence as acquiescence.
“Check it out!” she crowed triumphantly. “Apparently, it is illegal to put ice cream on cherry pie in Kansas.”
“They should have followed that idea to its natural conclusion and outlawed cherry pie altogether. Why eat cherry pie when apple is available?”
“There you go! Outlaw all pies except apple pie. What are they gonna do?”
She had to laugh at the Emma’s antics. “Have you met Granny? Do you want to be the one to tell her I outlawed half her dessert menu?”
“Fair enough. Let’s keep looking. Oh, here’s one! In Denver, Colorado, it is illegal to drive a black car on Sundays.”
“My car is black, Emma.”
“So what? Just stay in on Sundays. Besides, if you have to go anywhere, you can poof there.”
“Teleport,” she corrected with a sigh. “That seems like a very fr-frivlish- had her words just slurred? Had to be her imagination, right?- wasteful use of magic.”
“Then drive,” Emma said. “I’ll just arrest you.”
The image of being trapped in handcuffs in Emma’s presence hit her so hard and fast that she lost the ability to speak altogether. This time, she moved back slightly from Emma’s reach.
“You good?”
Regina waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Keep going.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to, anyway.”
“True.” Emma scrolled through her phone again. “Check this out. When the Queen of England was alive, it was illegal to eat swan.”
Her heart stopped. “Excuse me?”
“Apparently, all the swans in the kingdom belonged to the Queen.” She grinned up at Regina’s stunned expression. “What do you say, Your Majesty? Want to make it illegal for anyone but the Queen to eat Swan in Storybrooke?”
Face flaming, Regina scrambled back and turned around before Emma could notice the effect of her words. Several moments passed as she tried to come up with a witty retort, but fell sadly short. Unable to take the silence any longer, she forced herself to speak.
“Emma, I-“
A gentle snore interrupted whatever she was going to say. She whirled around to find Emma curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace, the phone still loosely in her grasp. Her discomfort disappeared and was replaced by a sense of amused affection.
She waved her hand to conjure a blanket and tenderly covered Emma with it. “Good night, Emma.”
------------------------------------
“Where is she?” Emma demanded the next day, striding into Town Hall. Just as had happened the last time she had drank with Regina, the details of the night were hazy, but she could remember saying some pretty outrageous things. When she had woken up, the Queen had been gone, and she had been left to wonder if they had just taken a giant step backwards. Unwilling to let another six months go by without addressing it, she was determined to hash things out before the silence got out of control.
“At the Elementary School,” Regina’s assistant replied. “She’s doing some volunteer work.”
Emma stared at her, dumbfounded. “Excuse me?”
The assistant shrugged. “There was a benefit for the teachers last night and it seems they were served some improperly cooked fish. Four teachers are out with food poisoning and Snow called here in a panic.”
Regina’s complete inability to say no to her mother, while simultaneously insisting that she still hated her, was nothing short of hilarious, in Emma’s view. She shook her head in amazement. “What grade did she get stuck with?”
“Second, I think.”
The idea of Regina entertaining a roomful of seven-year-olds was a sight Emma had to see for herself. Without so much as a goodbye, she hurried to the school and arrived just as Regina finished taking attendance. The students sat with a mixture of awe and fear at her presence until one little girl dared to raise her hand.
Emma pressed herself against the wall beside the door to the classroom and peered around the doorway to watch the interaction. “Ms. Mills, uh… Your Majesty… uh…”
“Ms. Mills is fine,” Regina interrupted. “What can I do for you?”
“What is today’s date?”
Emma shook her head and chuckled, amused. The date was March 4th and if she had to guess, as soon Regina said that out loud, the students would all stand up and march forth to the front of the room. It was an old prank, but a classic. In the six schools she had attended as a child, at least one class tried it every year.
“I believe it is the fourth,” Regina replied.
The girls stared back at her, confused. “The fourth of what?”
“The fourth of March,” Regina replied patiently. “Is that all, Arianna?”
The girl paled at the sound of her name falling from the Queen’s lips, but, to Emma’s everlasting pride and amazement, tried again. “Yeah, but what’s the date?”
“I told you, it is the fourth. Now, if there is nothing else, please take out your math book. All of you,” she clarified.
Emma stifled a chuckle and silently congratulated Regina on seeing the prank coming and handling it so smoothly. Most people would have just blurted out March 4th, without realizing what they were doing until it was too late. It had never failed when she had been a child.
She left the school, deciding to talk to Regina later. It wasn’t until lunchtime that it occurred to her. Why would Regina be so ready for that prank? She hadn’t gone to school as a child, so it is not as though she would remember it from her childhood.
What would make Regina so aware of the date that it would not simply fall from her lips?
There was only one possibility that occurred to her. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became she was right, but she called Henry to confirm her suspicions.
“She really doesn’t want anyone to know, though,” he cautioned.
Emma ignored that and waited impatiently for the afternoon to end before rushing back to Regina’s office. “Why didn’t you tell me today was your birthday?”
Regina glared at her. “Must you always burst in here without knocking?”
“Answer me. Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”
“Most people would assume that meant it was information they weren’t meant to have, Savior,” the Queen said reproachfully.
“Too bad,” Emma replied cheerfully. “Why didn’t you want me to know?”
“I don’t celebrate my birthday,” Regina replied at last.
“How come?”
Regina stared back at her, unsure of how to respond. Was she supposed to tell her that Daniel had died on her birthday, erasing her only means of escape the hell that had become her life? Was she supposed to explain how year after year, March 4th had marked another year in which her life had been frozen at her own hand? How the grief had threatened to strangle her at first until enough years had passed that the day simply became a reminder of all she had lost?
She really didn’t want to. Enough time had passed since the Enchanted Forest that the memories no longer overwhelmed her. She simply wanted to move on.
“I just don’t,” she answered. Because it seemed like a weak comeback, she rushed on before Emma could argue. “Perhaps I should write a law making it illegal to celebrate birthdays.”
The retort had the desired effect. Emma’s face turned red, and the fight went out of her expression. “So I didn’t dream that,” she mumbled.
“Dream suggesting that I outlaw anyone but myself from eating swan? No, you definitely did not.”
Surer of herself now, she watched the conflicting emotions on Emma’s face. Embarrassment, humor, and a desire to explain herself all struggled to dominate what happened next, before humor won out and Emma fell into the chair, laughing at herself.
“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” she said.
“No, we are not doing that this time,” Regina said. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want from me?”
“Why don’t you?” Emma countered. Regina had to laugh. Were there any two people in the world more fearful of making the first move than the two sitting in this very office right now?
She made a snap decision. At the end of the day, she was still Regina Mills, after all. “You’re right,” she said. She stood up and walked to the front of her desk and leaned against it directly in front of where Emma sat.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to make eye contact. “I want you, Emma. I have, for many, many years. The day you married Hook was one of the worst days of my life and I simply cannot stand the idea of us continuing to grow older as we do this dance day in and day out.” She smiled slightly at the sight of the stunned look on Emma’s face. “I love you, Emma Swan.”
‘There. How’s that for honesty?’
She waited briefly for Emma to reply, but when nothing was forthcoming, her heart sank. “I see,” she said, rushing towards the door. Emma grabbed her wrist to make her stay, but she forced it free and kept walking. Anything was better than staying in this room a moment longer.
A cloud of white magic appeared in front of her just as she reached the door and Emma appeared in front of her. “Nope,” she said, seizing Regina’s wrist once more. “Like you said, we’re not doing this today.”
The urge to run was still strong, but Emma was holding tight to her dominant hand now, so tightly that even the idea of teleportation was impossible. Resigning herself to her fate, she forced herself to look into Emma’s gaze and found her… smiling?
“I love you too, idiot.”
She forced a scowl on to her face, even as the tears threatened to choke the inside of her throat. “Watch who you call an idiot, Savior.”
“I’m calling you an idiot. And me. Mostly me. Imagine, showing up at your house drunk so many times and still not having the courage you just had, stone cold sober.” She took a deep breath of her own and held Regina’s gaze. “I love you, too. I think I always have.”
The first kiss (well, the first kiss they would both remember) was perfect. More perfect than any fantasy Regina had conjured for herself to get through all the lonely years. She pulled back with a chuckle, pulling Emma close to her chest.
“What’s funny?” Emma asked, not moving her head from its perch between Regina’s breasts.
“Perhaps birthdays are not so bad after all.”