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Emma looked over at her wife in the passenger seat, and couldn’t help but smile. For one thing, Regina looked stunning… as always. But it was also going to be hilarious when the brunette realized she was dressed entirely inappropriately for where they were headed.
“Eyes on the road, Ms. Swan.” Regina said with a smirk. “And what has you in such a good mood this evening?”
“You know. Date night. My choice date night. Anything is fair game and nothing is off the table, date night.”
Regina stared at her. “Where on earth are you taking me?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I’m not underdressed, am I?” Regina smoothed invisible wrinkles from her tight pencil skirt.
Emma gave her a once over. From perfectly styled hair, down to impractically high heels. “The entire opposite.”
Regina groaned. “This is why we should have some ground rules…”
The blonde took Regina’s left hand, and rubbed circles into her palm. “You know there are no rules. We alternate, and this was my choice. Anything is fair game, right?”
Regina mumbled something.
“Hey, you took me to a four-hour opera last week. Did I complain?”
Almost inaudibly, Regina responded. “No.”
“I promise. You’re going to have fun. And then we can have more fun when we get home.”
They pulled into a crushed gravel parking lot with neon lights welcoming them to “The Maine Fair Experience.”
Emma hopped out of the car and jogged around to open Regina’s door with a flourish. “Your Majesty,” she said with an exaggerated bow.
Regina stepped out cautiously, heels clicking against the uneven gravel, hoping she wouldn’t twist an ankle. She glanced up at the towering Ferris wheel and then down at her shoes with a long-suffering sigh. “You brought me to a fair. An actual fair.”
Emma beamed. “The Maine Fair Experience, thank you very much.”
“This is not what I had in mind when you said ‘wear something nice.’”
“I said special.” Emma grabbed her hand and started tugging her toward the midway. “And what’s more special than fried dough, games, and the distant scent of cow manure?”
Regina muttered something suspiciously close to “divorce,” but let herself be led.
They stopped at one of the booths: a garishly painted stand with water guns and rows of sad-looking clown heads. A few teenagers were mid-game, squealing with excitement. Emma rubbed her hands together. “Alright, watch and learn. I used to be a total badass at this.”
She paid the bored attendant and picked up one of the water guns, aiming it with dramatic focus. The bell dinged, the clowns bobbed, and Emma let loose.
It was...not impressive.
Water sprayed everywhere. One of the clown heads drooped sadly to the side. Her stream of water missed the target entirely, soaking the game counter and possibly the attendant’s shoes. Emma’s light blinked red while a kid two stools over rang the winner’s bell.
Emma squinted at the machine like it had betrayed her. “That was clearly rigged.”
Regina raised one perfect brow. “Of course it was. I’m starting to wonder if the Sheriff’s Department shouldn’t be allowed to carry guns after that display. Are you quite finished embarrassing yourself?”
“You want to try?” Emma teased, just a tad defensively.
“No, thank you,” Regina said cooly. “I’m fine watching.”
Emma tilted her head. “Oh no, no, no. Fair game, remember? Those are the rules.”
Regina crossed her arms. “This is not what I meant by fair.”
“Regina,” Emma said in her most mock-stern voice. “Our pact.”
With a sigh and all the grace of a queen stepping into peasantry, Regina slid a bill across the counter and took the water gun.
She barely seemed to aim. The game buzzed to life.
Ten seconds later, her light was flashing green, the winning bell rang, and a plush unicorn descended from the prize rack as if summoned by magic… or divine punishment.
Regina turned to Emma with a small, satisfied smile. “Oh. That was…surprisingly easy.”
Emma gawked at the unicorn. “Are you serious right now?”
“Maybe you’re just not skilled enough, dear.” Regina patted her wife condescendingly on the shoulder.
Emma narrowed her eyes. “You did not just weaponize the word dear… again.”
Regina handed her the stuffed unicorn. “Don’t worry. I’ll win you another if it makes you feel better.”
Emma hugged the unicorn like a petulant child. Like there was any chance the toy wasn’t already hers.
***
The scent hit them before they even saw the food stalls: a heavenly combination of grease, sugar, and questionable decision-making. Emma stopped in her tracks and inhaled dramatically.
“Do you smell that?” she asked, eyes wide with wonder. “That’s the smell of childhood joy and adult regret. It’s beautiful.”
Regina wrinkled her nose. “It’s the smell of saturated fat and looming heart disease.”
Emma ignored her, practically skipping toward the first food truck. “Okay, okay, hear me out. We get fried dough, fried Oreos, mozzarella sticks, corn dogs, and one of those giant lemonades with, like, a whole lemon floating in it.”
Regina stared at her. “You intend to consume all of that?”
“Well, no. That’s why you’re here. It’s called sharing, Regina.”
Regina gave her an unamused look. “That’s not sharing. That’s culinary suicide with an accomplice.”
Emma was already ordering at the first truck. “You can’t come to a fair and not try at least one fried thing. It’s practically illegal.”
A few minutes later, they were armed with a tray loaded with items that looked more like deep-fried magic experiments than food. Emma was guzzling down the lemonade, then zeroed in on the fried Oreos, biting into one with a happy moan. “Oh my god. I would marry this.”
“Should I be jealous?” Regina asked dryly.
“Only if you’re scared of losing me to deep-fried dessert.”
Emma took another bite, then paused mid-chew. “Okay… I might need to find a bathroom.”
Regina blinked. “Already?”
“I underestimated that lemonade,” she said, looking mildly panicked. “Can you guard the Oreos and my unicorn? Just don’t eat them all.”
“So now it’s your unicorn? And I wasn’t planning to eat any of this.”
Emma was already speed-walking toward the restrooms. “Just watch them like they’re your lasagna or something!”
Left alone with the toy crushed under one arm, and the tray in the other, Regina gave the Oreos a side glance. One had tilted a bit, gooey chocolate oozing out from the crispy coating. She sniffed it suspiciously, then, checking no one was watching, delicately pinched it between two fingers and took a small bite.
Her eyes widened. She looked down at the pastry like it had personally offended her by being that good.
By the time Emma returned, Regina was licking powdered sugar from her thumb, a suspiciously empty spot on the tray where the Oreo had once been.
Emma stopped. “Wait. Did you eat one?”
Regina looked up calmly. “No.”
Emma glanced at the tray. “Regina.”
Regina lifted her chin, not a trace of guilt on her face. “Fine. I tried one. You were gone. They were lonely. And didn’t you say you wanted to share?”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “And?”
Regina casually wiped her fingers with a napkin. “You’ll need to get your own.”
Emma gasped. “You stole my Oreos!”
Regina smirked. “You stole my unicorn. There. We’re even.”
***
The path curved toward the livestock barn, and the change in air quality was immediate.
Regina slowed her steps and grimaced. “Oh, delightful. The aroma of dung and despair.”
Emma laughed. “Don’t pretend like this isn’t exactly what you imagined when you dressed for a romantic evening.”
Regina lifted her foot and looked down with dismay. “These heels are already ruined. These were Louboutins, Emma.”
Emma tried not to smile but failed. “They’ve officially been baptized in fun. You’ll live. And… can’t you just magic new ones when we get back to Storybrooke?”
“These were from the Dark Curse. Do you really want me ripping out the heart of the thing I love most just to get a new pair of shoes?”
Emma looked a tad uneasy, even though she was certain Regina was kidding. “That depends… Do you love me or Henry most?”
Regina teased her eyebrows up and down. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Emma stopped in her tracks for a moment. Still, Regina didn’t stop. If anything, her stride grew more purposeful as they neared a fenced paddock in the far corner of the animal barn, where a few horses stood. Her expression shifted: something quieter and more distant settling in.
Emma, slightly out of breath by the time she caught up to her wife, noticed. “You good?”
Regina’s eyes were on a tall chestnut mare pawing at the dirt, its flanks twitching. “The smell just reminded me of the stables. Back in the Enchanted Forest.”
Emma’s voice softened. “Where you used to ride?”
Regina gave a faint nod. “Between my tea time and etiquette lessons, I would run off to the stables whenever I could. Daniel would meet me there. It was… the only place I felt like myself.”
Before Emma could respond, the horse let out a sharp, frightened neigh. It reared, hooves slamming down hard against the packed dirt. Emma instinctively stepped back. “Okay! Yep. Big, twitchy murder beast. That’s my cue to be literally anywhere else.”
Regina barely reacted. She took a step forward instead.
“Regina… maybe don’t?”
“She’s scared,” Regina said softly, her voice shifting into something even Emma couldn’t quite define. Gentle. Royal. Timeless.
She moved slowly toward the animal, heels sinking further into the muck, completely unbothered. The horse flinched, then calmed under Regina’s presence. One hand rose, brushing lightly along its neck.
“It’s okay… She’s beautiful,” Regina murmured. “She reminds me of Rocinante.”
Emma blinked. “Was that your horse?”
“He was my first steed. Deep brown. Fearless. Loyal.” Regina’s hand paused, her gaze falling. “I ripped his heart out when I thought I needed it for the curse.”
The silence that followed was too still to be awkward.
Emma didn’t flinch. She didn’t say you didn’t have to, or that was then, or any of the other useless things people say when they didn’t know what else to offer.
Instead, she stepped closer. “And you hated yourself for it.”
Regina gave a single, reluctant nod.
Emma looked at Regina: at her ruined heels, her hand resting on the calm horse, the queen in a barn with heartbreak in her eyes… and she said, “You’ve come so far from that.”
Regina exhaled slowly, hand falling to her side. “Some days it feels like I haven’t moved at all.”
Emma shook her head gently. “You're literally standing in horse crap in six-inch heels because you love me. That feels like progress.”
That finally earned a real laugh. Regina turned away from the horse, brushing her hands on her already-dusted skirt. “You’re an idiot.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“Yes,” Regina said, glancing back once more at the mare. “Yes, I am.”
As they stepped out of the livestock barn, Emma recounted. “Okay, so we’ve done games, and food. We’ve done animals… Time for rides.”
Regina followed, heels caked in barn grime, but hair still somehow perfect. “You cannot possibly expect me to go on those glorified death machines.”
Emma gestured ahead to the lights and screams that made up the fair’s midway. “C’mon, how bad can it be? You ride these, and I’ll let you ride me when we get home.” She winked and elbowed Regina in the side.
Regina rolled her eyes, then pointed dismissively at the first ride they passed: a spinning monstrosity that whirled its riders upside down in blinding circles. “That one violates at least three natural laws. And I’d like to live to see Henry’s wedding.”
“Alright, not that one,” Emma conceded, eyes already searching for the next target.
They paused near a rickety-looking roller coaster that screeched in protest with every loop. Regina crossed her arms. “No.”
Emma tried a haunted house ride. “This one’s indoors and looks safe.”
“Absolutely not. If I wanted to be mildly annoyed in the dark, I’d just visit your parents the next blackout.”
Emma sighed and turned to her, hands on hips. “Okay, no vetoes on the next one.”
Regina narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Fair game. My night, my rules. You don’t get to pick and choose.” Emma pointed ahead to the glowing Ferris wheel, its neon spokes turning slowly against the night sky. “That one.”
Regina stared at it, and for the first time all evening, she hesitated in a way that wasn’t just dramatic annoyance. Her posture stiffened slightly.
Emma gave her a playful nudge. “What, is the Big Bad Evil Queen scared of heights?”
Regina didn’t answer.
“Regina?”
“I’m fine,” she said curtly, brushing some barn dust off her skirt. “Let’s get this over with.”
They boarded the gondola, Regina stepping in carefully and clutching the side like it might collapse beneath her. Emma flopped opposite her, utterly relaxed.
As the wheel started turning, Emma caught the flicker of tension in Regina’s jaw. “You alright?”
Regina’s eyes stayed locked on the floor of the cart. “I hate heights.”
Emma blinked. “Seriously?”
Regina didn’t respond.
Emma leaned in slightly. “Wait… are you actually scared? Like, not just ‘ugh, heights are tacky,’ but scared scared?”
The gondola rocked slightly as they ascended, and Regina’s breathing hitched.
Emma’s teasing smile faded. “Hey. Regina?”
Regina’s hands were clenched white-knuckled around the metal bar. Her chest was rising too fast. Eyes wide. Not focused.
Emma straightened, voice gentle. “Okay. Hey, hey, it’s okay. Look at me.”
Regina didn’t.
Emma scooted closer, trying not to rock the gondola, and put a hand over hers. “Regina. You’re safe. You’re with me. Nothing’s gonna happen.”
Regina finally met her eyes, just for a second. “My room… When the king had no use for me… It was in a tower…” Her voice broke off. “I fell once. Tinkerbell saved me…”
Emma’s throat tightened. “You never told me that.”
“I don’t like remembering it,” Regina whispered.
The wheel stopped… right at the top. Lights flickered all around them, the fair small and glittering below like a distant realm.
Regina’s breath quickened again.
“Okay,” Emma said, shifting so she was next to her now. “Close your eyes. Just for a second.”
“I can’t…”
“Yes, you can. You’ve done so much harder stuff than this. You faced an angry mob, the underworld, and your mother. You can face gravity.”
Regina gave a half-hysterical laugh, but she closed her eyes.
Emma took both her hands gently, but Regina grabbed on as if this was her lifeline. “You’re not that scared girl anymore. You’re Regina fucking Mills. You’re brilliant. You’re brave. You survived yourself. Just breathe with me.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, just the creak of the wheel and the distant hum of the fair below. Slowly, Regina’s grip loosened. Her shoulders dropped.
The ride jerked into motion again, and when they reached the bottom, Emma helped her step out without any sassy remark. “You okay?” she asked softly.
Regina nodded… barely. “I didn’t like that.”
“I know.”
“But I did it.”
Emma grinned. “You totally did. You’ve been amazing tonight, you know that?”
Regina gave her a sidelong glance. “My shoes are destroyed, I smell like livestock, and I almost had a breakdown in the sky. Amazing feels like a stretch.”
“No,” Emma said. “You showed up. You tried. You let yourself be way outside of your comfort zone. That’s kind of a big deal.”
Regina didn’t respond. She looked back at the Ferris wheel, silhouetted against the stars, lost in thought.
Emma nodded as if she could read her wife’s mind. “If there’s something that’s a hard no for you, be honest with me next time.”
Regina turned to her, brow arched. “But that’s not how fair game works… is it?”
Emma opened her mouth to argue, paused, then groaned. “You’re gonna make me go to another opera next week, aren’t you?”
Regina smiled, slow and smug. “Oh, I’m booking tickets as soon as we get home.”
The two walked off hand in hand towards their next adventure.