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When Regina closes her eyes, she can still hear her.
Princess Emma of the Other Enchanted Forest, on her knees, watching her entire world crumble before her big hazel eyes.
“I gave you the kingdom, I gave you everything—what more can I do?” she asks, tears readily spilling.
Cry.
“I’m not a hero, I-I’m not...” —a cute little sniffle— ”the Savior...”
Cry harder.
Emma cries for a good long minute when her parents die, and Regina takes the moment to look away. She turns her back on the grieving princess and closes her eyes, committing every shuddering breath to memory. She pretends they are elsewhere, somewhere normal... until Henry walks in. Then Emma remembers, and she gets her act together, wiping her face offhandedly as they leave the remnants of the Other Regina’s former home.
Each sob lingers in Regina’s mind and usually she finds she has to sit up even straighter, cross her legs, and take a deep, cleansing breath.
Sad, pathetic little princess.
That girl was everything Regina wanted in Emma when they first met years ago. Meek and mild, no backbone, delicate and fragile of will. She who has known no hardship and was so easily dominated, sensitive, she even begged mercy. Of course her dream girl lived in a dream world.
“R-Regina?” a muffled voice says behind her, “May I-I please come out now?”
She opens her eyes, and finds herself sitting on her bathroom floor, leaning against the door to her small walk-in closet. The old key is still in its lock. It hits her.
“What did you just call me, Miss. Swan?”
A strangled sob. “I b-beg your pardon, Y-Your Majesty...” she sniffles. “Mercy, please...”
Regina smiles softly and picks herself up. The key turns, and she lets the door open slowly. Light washes over the still shaking form of her princess, revealing to Regina the red, tear-streaked face of an exhausted but nonetheless beautiful Swan. Emma, wearing an outfit similar to the one she wore in her feeble attempt to rescue her Other parents, stares up at Regina with big, wild eyes, her hair completely disheveled from doing God-knows-what in her limited time in isolation. Nothing aside from the upset girl is out of place. She blinks hard several times, and swallows every now and again, but never takes her eyes away from her Queen.
She is trying her hardest to be strong.
Even so, a few stray tears manage to fall down her cheeks, and once those fall, she is done. Emma’s gaze falters. She crawls toward Regina, plants herself at her Queen’s feet presumably on her knees, and whispers, “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I beseech you. I’ve learned my lesson now, I swear.”
The Queen lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? And what lesson is that, may I ask?”
“I will only cry when you grant me permission...” she sniffles again. “Without permission there are consequences.”
When Regina lowers herself to Emma’s level, lifts her chin up with a finger, Emma’s bottom lip protrudes in an adorable pout. She plants a chaste kiss on her damp cheek. “You are forgiven, Princess.” When she pulls her into a hug and rubs her back, Emma sighs.
“Thank you...” she breathes. She nuzzles Regina’s shoulder as her Queen runs her hands through her blonde hair to smooth it out. She hisses when Regina pulls a little too hard.
“Cry.”
Emma whimpers. Regina pulls harder.
“Emma...”
A halfhearted sob.
“I’m afraid, Princess, that is far from acceptable.”
Regina removes her from her warm embrace, and pushes her princess further into the small, dark space. Emma doesn’t try to fight until Regina has already closed the door. She doesn’t pound or scratch or beg for release. She tries the knob, and only when it doesn’t work does she really let Regina have it—wailing like a child denied candy.
Like a spoiled little princess. Like an insecure brat.
It’s another fifteen minutes before Regina opens the door and, purely on a whim, leaves it wide open. She takes her time in going to her kitchen to grab Emma a water bottle. When she returns, to her mild amazement, her princess is still sitting in the dark, knees tucked close to her chest, in wait. Emma eyes the bottle in her hand and bows her head.
“You must be tired,” Regina notes, a gentle hand on her hip. Emma merely nods. “Come, now. Your punishment is over. Let’s get you taken care of... Your Highness.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty...” croaks the Princess. She lets herself be led out of the closet and sits atop Regina’s wonderfully soft bed. She tries to remove her unusual garb before the water bottle is pushed into her hands.
“Rest. You’ve done enough for today. Allow me.”
Regina carefully removes each piece of clothing from her body, leaving lingering kisses in their place, especially on her red cheeks. She dabs Emma’s puffy eyes with a damp facecloth and gently guides Emma’s arms and legs through each arm or leg hole of her special aftercare onesie—pastel pink with white unicorns, custom-made. She even makes sure she has a pillow under her knees to prevent any back pain.
Emma sniffles when Regina tucks her in and grabs her arm before she can pull away.
“Regina...” she mumbles, her eyes slightly less red-rimmed, half-closed.
“Yes?”
“Mmmmmmmmm...”
Regina cocks her head. “What do you need, Emma?”
“Mom... M-mommy...”
“Shh...” she places a finger on Emma’s lower lip. “Not right now. The princess needs a well-earned nap first. But...” she moves her finger to tap the tip of Emma’s nose. “I’ll be nearby. Go to sleep now.”
Emma obeys. Regina watches her Princess sleep, smiles at each scrunch of her nose or a wrinkle of her brow. Every noise Emma makes catches her off-guard—a sigh, moan, and at one point a giggle.
And perhaps, just a small part of her at least, hopes one such noise would be a cry.
Even in sleep, sometimes Emma obliges.