Once Upon a Time 1. Poisonous Fruit

_A/N: This was inspired by episode 1X11 "Fruit of the Poisonous Tree". I think it is by far the most interesting episode in regards to the 'enchanted forest version' of the Queen because I see it as a tipping point. She's not evil or hell-bent on revenge yet; but she __is__ a woman who has lost her love and been trapped for six or so years (since Snow White is now fully grown) in a gilded cage with the people responsible for her misery. And that can do lovely, twisting things to a soul._

_Also, so many things about this episode raise flags for me that I wish they would have delved into during the show: What was King Leopold doing walking around unescorted on a beach by himself? Why is Snow White out in the garden with Regina? Why is Regina's father there? Does he live with them? And how did the King get ahold of the Queen's diary and why is no one suspicious as to his motivation behind reading her private thoughts? The King also goes on to state at the beginning of the episode that all he wants is for his kingdom to be happy… and then fifteen minutes later reveals that he knows of the Queen's unhappiness and yet has done nothing to fix it. Why, why, why?_

_I guess that's what fanfiction is for :) I hope you all enjoy._

_-highheelsandchocolate_

* * *

**Chapter 1: Poisonous Fruit Always Appears the Sweetest**

Ah, spring. It was another beautiful day in the Enchanted Forest. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the waves were lapping steadily against the sandy shore… and Emma was sweating through her chainmail.

"Jesus Christ."

_This was getting ridiculous._

Emma whipped the gleaming hunk of metal off of her head and gulped in the refreshing sea air in large stuttering gasps. Okay. So maybe trying to hide inside her helmet had been a stupid idea. It's not as if her armor wasn't a dead giveaway as to who she really was.

Emma Swan: White Knight and Savior of the Realm.

Shiny and silver and covered in chainmail.

Emma snorted at the title as she tossed her helmet into the sand and thumped her tired ass onto the nearest piece of driftwood. _The Savior. _What the hell.

She ran gauntleted fingers through messy curls that strained mightily to stick to her leather gloves with perspiration, the cooling sweat on her brow causing an unexpected shiver to race down her spine.

Fighting was just what Emma _did_. And she was damn good at it too.

Before she had enlisted in King Midas's service she had held a myriad of salty occupations and no one had bothered to care. She'd been a mercenary for hire. Endured a stint of pirating on the high seas. Slain trolls from their bridges and lopped the heads off of a few meddlesome dragons. She had even traveled with the Merry Men for a while before Robin Hood had met his untimely demise against the sharp end of an oriental blade. The band of rowdy scavengers was now run by a brooding warrior from the East with flashing eyes and a broken heart… a deadly combination in anyone's book.

And so the Ogre Wars should not have been a game-changer. Not in the slightest. It was supposed to be just another notch on her belt of adventure and bloodlust. It was as good a distraction as any.

Emma was a free spirit that craved the adrenaline of the fight and the pitch of cannonball fire. She loved dirt pushed beneath her fingernails and blood in her hair, and the sound of knives slicing through flesh was music to her ears. The carnal ferocity of battle made her feel more alive than anything else in her life, and knowing how tempting that drive could be, she had always focused her skills to help the greater good. Bruise the people that needed to be bruised and then disappear into the night with no one the wiser. Good deed done. No praise needed.

Without it, 'itching for fight' nearly became a literal term.

She had intended this venture to merely be the next means to sate what was just an intrinsic part of her nature. But as it turned out, fate had different plans.

The notoriety the sensationalized war had brought the White Knight was a curse in and of itself.

Emma had encountered five small farming towns so far, and in every single one she had been met with heart-felt weeping and goods thrown into her arms free of charge; with people fainting and clutching their chests in glee. One village had even literally fallen to their knees as soon as she had entered the marketplace. Embarrassed and flushing she had of course told them to get up. That it was nothing. That she was just one of many and that countless valiant and courageous soldiers had fought and died by her side.

But "Savior! Savior!" they all kept crying, insisting that they show their gratitude to her in any way possible. They were so thankful to her for saving them. For fighting for them. For ridding their realm of the terrible beasts. For restoring peace to their worn-torn land.

They regaled her with tales of her own feats so far estranged from the truth that sometimes Emma forgot that she had, apparently, actually lived them. The bards singing in the square made her sound like some kind of angel of death, swooping down on hordes of heathens and massacring the opposing forces with deadly finesse and purpose.

Like she had single-handedly won the war.

Emma unsheathed her sword and looked dully at the shine of sunlight glinting off the polished blade.

Midas's kingdom had looked like a wasteland after what the Ogres did to it and no amount of 'magic touch' was going to fix it quickly. Turning rubble into golden rubble helped no one, and the wise king had known in his heart that calling for aid was in everyone's best interest; so he had reluctantly combined forces with King George to merge their essential assets and manpower in order to rebuild.

But unlike Midas, Emma had not seen eye-to-eye with the new co-monarch; the inundation of new knights, strange customs, and unfamiliar formalities chafing mightily against the knight's brash nature. And so she had left. Again.

The goodbyes had stung. To say they had felt any different would have been a blatant lie. Her comrades in arms had become the brothers she'd never known she wanted, and when they bid her farewell with punches to the shoulder and too-tight embraces that squeezed the air from her lungs, she had actually found herself getting a little teary-eyed. The ramshackle palace with its impetuous soldiers had become a home away from home.

_But then they had held that damn commemoration ceremony right before she departed. With all the wreaths and medals and titles and unwanted acknowledgement and…_

Emma groaned. She knew they had meant well but right now she was so ready to go back to being a nobody. And she couldn't. She was the White Knight and the Savior, now and forever and even after she died.

"What are you doing on my beach?"

Emma was on her feet in an instant with her sword pointed directly at the offending man's heart, her nerves on high alert. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't even heard him approach.

The stranger put his hands up in a gesture of peace with a minor start in his voice, "Whoa! Mighty quick on the draw, aren't you girl?"

The knight glowered at the man who was smirking at her. She didn't like his tone. That and he seemed strangely unperturbed by the fact he was currently being held hostage at the end of a sword. In fact, he seemed mildly amused. Emma narrowed her eyes and dug the tip of her blade into the folds of his tunic a little bit. "Who wants to know?" she growled.

"Well, I do," he chuckled. "Seeing as _you_ are the one trespassing on _my_ private grounds."

Her jaw clenched. This man looked harmless enough, but some of the most dangerous people Emma knew came in unsuspecting packages. He could be a sorcerer in disguise.

She quickly took stock of her captive: his long dressing tunic was made of expensive fabric and was tied with a sash that did nothing to hide the pooch of a belly that strained against tenuous buttons. He had a cape made of a wolf's pelt thrown over his shoulders and he was hiding golden bracelets on the wrists beneath his sleeves. And his head was bald with wispy tufts of gray hair feathering out on either side of his… crown.

_Shit. _

_Leave it to her to unwittingly accost royalty._

Emma immediately thrust her sword into the sand and knelt beside it; her head bowed in apology. "Please forgive any offense taken on my part, Your Highness. This is my first time in the territory and I knew not where I was treading, nor to whom I was speaking. If I have broken any of your laws it was not an act made in defiance, but in ignorance."

The man's unaffected demeanor did not change as he looked down at her. "In troublesome times such as these, it is sometimes hard to tell friend from foe and I grant you my pardon for this incursion." He gestured for the knight to stand and she did. "Today you can just be the unexpected company of an old man trying to avoid his own politics."

The man laughed and the knight forced her mouth into a small but gracious smile, "I appreciate your leniency sir. If you could tell am where I am though, that'd be great. I've been travelling for some time without a map."

The man immediately puffed up proudly in his skin as his hands lifted to showcase the world around them, "Assuming you journeyed here from the South, you entered into the White Kingdom roughly three leagues ago and I am King Leopold, the ruler of these lands. Welcome to my estate."

King Leopold. _Leopold, Leopold, Leopold._ That name rang a bell for some reason but she couldn't quite remember why. He was one of the richest kings in the Enchanted Forest and held an army that was unparalleled in size, but if memory served her well, Emma could recall a few choice battle-strategy sessions that had ended with Midas cursing his fair-skinned legacy.

Ah, yes. This was the King that had blissfully stayed out of the war. Midas's forces had called for aid again and again only to get no response until the ending skirmishes had all but ceased. Leopold had later claimed that the protective wards encircling his lands were to blame for the delayed response time but Emma, among many others in her regiment, had their doubts about that.

But there was something else too. Something faint in the back of her memory that she couldn't quite get a hold of that featured this King Leopold.

_Eh. She'd figure it out later._

"Wow, it's an honor to meet you, Your Grace. The reserve forces you sent in our end stages against the Ogre Horde helped us to finish the war swiftly and without excessive bloodshed. I thank you deeply on behalf of my former King."

An incredulous look passed over the man's face, "You fought in the war, fair maiden?"

The corners of Emma's eyes tightened at the slight and her voice hardened.

"I did."

For the first time then, Leopold really seemed to see who he was talking to; taking in the gleaming armor and sturdy grip on the hilt of her sword as he raked his gaze languidly over her form. And the moment his eyes widened in recognition, Emma's stomach dropped in tandem.

Apparently tales of her valor had reached this far North already.

"I know that insignia," he stated with awe; his indicating finger jabbing her once in the chest over the emblem engraved there. Her breastplate made a tinny sound of complaint before he continued. "A golden lion wreathed in flames and set against a burgundy shield. That's Midas's crest! …and so that must make you that woman knight of his!"

He snapped his fingers in rapid succession off to the side of his face as he tried to recall what her name was, then poked them once more in her direction as his eyes lit up. "The Savior! You're the one they call the Savior!"

Emma winced at the unwanted title and picked the lesser of two evils. "My comrades just call me Swan," the blonde shrugged. "But I find that in the way of titles, the White Knight suits my tastes better. Less flashy and all that."

"Ah, such modesty in such a brave soul," the King clucked. "Very befitting of the realm's newest _Savior_." He clapped her affably on the shoulder as he blatantly disregarded her wishes. His hand lingered just a little too long. "The Savior, in my land! Who would have thought?"

Leopold's eyes brightened as he scoured her countenance. "You must attend my birthday celebration in a month's time. It's going to be the celebration of the century and your presence there will only serve to make it unforgettable. You know what they say; sixty-three is a banner year!" A chortle shot through his nose as he murmured to himself, "This is wonderful."

Emma immediately protested, "Oh no, sir, I couldn't possibly intrude on–"

"Nonsense." He cut her off with the wave of his hand. "My kingdom's happiness is my main priority and when I'm happy, they're happy. Not to mention that your presence will certainly raise moral. So it's decided then." He smiled widely at the knight. "You will take up residence in my court. No expense withheld. Of course we'll supply nothing but the finest for a hero such as yourself."

And with that King Leopold about-faced and started walking in the opposite direction. He only got about four steps up the beach before he realized that the blonde wasn't following him. She was still rooted to the spot with a dumbfounded look slapped across her face.

The wicked glint in the King's over-the-shoulder gaze made Emma falter. He raised a bushy eyebrow in her direction, "You dare to deny a King is own birthday wish?"

"No sir," she quickly corrected as she snapped out of her daze. The White Knight gathered her belongings from the spongy sand. "It would be my pleasure to accompany you."

* * *

The oddball pair had been clamoring over landscape of Leopold's kingdom for a little over an hour now and Emma had just about had it. She felt like she had all the grace of a cyclops with the way she was clomping around; her heavy pack banging against her knees as she clutched her helmet clunkily in the other hand. Bogged down with excessive weaponry, the knight's sword rattled in its scabbard and the hidden dagger in her boot continued to rub a blister into her skin all while the King traipsed unencumbered in front of her with nary a scepter in his grasp.

He was still going on about the mighty wealth his kingdom possessed. "Not only do the dwarves we breed mine numerous invaluable stones from the caves, but they also have become quite adept at harvesting pixie-dust, which we have in turn begun to reassign to the more appropriately deserving–"

Emma tuned him out as her first glimpse of the palace towered over the snow-topped woods, the overcast sun still fighting vainly to mellow the dying season's temper. The monolith of a castle all but sank into the sky; the tall slabs of granite like claws to the clouds as the fortified fortress glared at idle passerby. It was not the welcoming sort of home she had expected for such a soft-spoken king. Castle White was sleek and sharp and daunting… even if the thick trees did mostly block the guarded main entrance from view.

Which brought a disquieting thought into the knight's mind._ Weren't they going the wrong way? And if they were no longer heading to the castle, where was the King taking her? _

Trying to squash the mounting panic in her breast, Emma boldly interrupted the droning monarch with a falsely light tone, "You know, I don't mean to tell you how to get to your own palace, Your Grace…" she nodded her head in the direction of sinister peaks poking over the tops of the forest. "But I think your castle's that way."

He stared at her unblinking for a moment before he smiled again. It didn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, I know," Leopold stated plainly. "I am well aware of where my castle lies. I wanted to show you something first."

A cobbled stone wall rushed into view through the twisting trunks of wood, weathered and loved by the elements, as he led the way a little further into the brush. A black wrought-iron gate lay embedded in its side. "Let's take a peek into the Queen's garden, shall we?"

Emma didn't really think she had a say in the matter and remained silent as the ancient gate creaked open and the vines of ivy clinging to the rusting metal trembled dangerously with the movement.

Her mouth dropped open at the luscious sight she was greeted with. The garden was _beautiful_.

Seemingly untouched by the residuals of winter, color exploded out of the greenery. Neat little rows of flowers sprung up and scattered in the grass; poppies of orange mingled with budding azaleas and blooming cow lilies until they almost overtook the trees laden with all kinds of succulent fruit.

And there were roses everywhere. White roses. Peach roses. Yellow roses. Pink roses. Lavender roses.

_No red ones though. Huh._

The distinctive rustle of petticoats brushing the earth caught in her ears and Emma flashed her eyes toward the sound.

"Ah, and here they are!" the King proclaimed, breaking the mystical quiet that had invaded her senses. "These are the real jewels of my kingdom." He smiled widely as he thrust out his hand in grandeur, "This is my beautiful daughter, Snow White."

A head of luxurious brunette locks snapped up with bright eyes and an easy smile, and Emma nodded politely at the sugarcane princess grinning madly in her direction.

Wrapped all in white, the girl nearly blinded the knight with the absence of color; the arctic fox draped about her shoulders blending almost seamlessly into a dress that shimmered like an ivory tusk. Barely pink lips and aqua eyes garnished pale, pale skin that almost glowed with luminesce in the overcast light, washing out her pixie-like bone structure so that she gleamed as a pearl in the middle of the foliage.

She even had a white daisy clutched in her pallid fingers.

The princess thrust her chin into the air with a look that claimed she knew exactly how pretty she was and curtsied cordially. "How do you do?" her melodic voice inquired and Emma gave another, albeit brusque, proprietary nod.

"My lady."

Monarchs made Emma nervous. Court etiquette made Emma nervous. Everything about this made Emma nervous. She was a knight; honed for battle and bred in the country, and as such the ways of the elite eluded her.

Back in the Kingdom of Gold things were different. There, she was favored by a kind King and surrounded by men that would lay down their lives in her name if she uttered it. There, the halls were loud and boisterous and full of laughter, where wit and candor were prized above breeding. There, her brash tongue was seen as amusing, not offensive, and whenever she unwittingly crossed a line she hadn't meant to cross, Midas or Frederick or _someone_ would have her back.

But Emma was a long way from home and she wasn't sure she trusted her mouth to say the right thing yet.

Snow White held the flower demurely up to her nose and sniffed it as the King's voice sobered a touch, his animated demeanor suddenly falling a little bit flat. The slight change in tone gave Emma momentary pause as Leopold indicated behind her. "And Regina, my wife, the Queen."

A figure encased in a silver brocade gown with a basket filled to the brim with shining red apples turned slowly at the sound of her name ringing through the garden air.

Emma's heart stopped beating. For a moment there, she thought she actually might have died. And she sure as hell forgot how to breathe.

The Queen was lithe curves and elegant lines that melted and danced together until one couldn't tell where one feature started and the next began. From the sloping tilt of her neck, to the willowy upward twist of her tresses, to causal brush of refined fingers on the ripening fruit in her palm; the woman was polished and poised and perfect.

A picturesque study of what royalty should look like.

A barely-there beauty mark dusted the corner of her pouting mouth and the neckline of her dress dipped to flaunt a fist-sized diamond that rested its head against her deep olive skin, bleached pale by the lingering frost in the air. Like a snowflake not long for this earth, she looked fragile and soft as she seemed to almost float over the tender grass beneath her feet.

This icicle angel, with heavy eyelashes that swept demurely against her high-set cheekbones, was a goddess that sculptors around the world would long to discover…

Except for her eyes.

Emma was struck speechless by those heartbreaking eyes that had locked so forcefully onto her own, because they were the one thing that did not fit on that beautiful face. For those sad, sad eyes that belonged to the Queen hid a glowering darkness inside of them that had no place marring the enchanting creature in front of her. The pain she saw swirling in their depths made the knight want to draw her sword and impale something with it.

She wondered what someone as celebrated as a Queen had to be so sad about.

But the emotion only lasted for an instant before it was hastily masked by a warmth that flickered through those dark chocolate irises and the tiniest smile twitched at the corners of her sweet rosy lips. Like a candle playing behind the Queen's skin, her whole face seemed to brighten with the miniscule deed.

"Hello."

A single word. One single word that poured from her lips like a purr. One raspy and wonderful word from the Queen's enticing mouth and Emma felt like she was drowning.

She swallowed quickly before greeting the Queen with a deep bow at the waist and suddenly found herself profoundly invested in how she was being perceived. Emma acknowledged the woman respectfully with a quiet "Your Majesty" before straightening her shoulders again and readjusting the helmet she had grasped underneath her right arm. She hoped that she was painting a gallant image at the moment.

She also hoped that the messy cascade of blonde curls adorning the top of her head didn't look as chaotic as they currently felt.

But the Queen made no bow in return. Instead she simply lowered her gaze as her tentative smile vanished like a puff of smoke and she turned away with the barest swish of her dress; once again hiding her face from the world to engross herself with her apple tree, shrouded in mystery and cream-colored fur that tickled at her wind-bitten cheeks and fluttered at her delicate wrists.

Emma's heart panged unnecessarily at the gesture.

The King however didn't seem to notice. The man singularly had eyes for his treasured only daughter.

He gently took the daisy from the princess's dainty hand and tucked it lovingly into her already flower-woven curls; a crown of spring atop his winter dove. "My darling," the King caught the beaming girl's chin affectionately with his knuckle before he waggled his eyebrows in Emma's direction. "How would you like accompany me and the White Knight into the castle?"

"Oh Father, not _the_ White Knight!?" Snow exclaimed giddily, and suddenly she was right in front of Emma; all bouncing girlish tresses and lamp-lit eyes and a smile that burst forth without a care in the world. Emma had to bite down the instinct to take a few steps back in order to give herself some breathing room.

"You must tell me all about your adventures, brave knight. You absolutely must."

And with that jubilant smile nearly cracking her face in half, the insistent princess looped her arm around one of Emma's elbows and began tugging the thunderstruck blonde towards the castle.

"Well if the princess insists…" Emma muttered hesitantly, anxiously looking back at the King for approval.

Snow White answered for herself. "The princess most certainly does."

And there was that cheek-splitting grin again.

Leopold chuckled at his daughter's antics as he fell into step beside them. "Snow's always been a precocious one. She gets it from her mother…" His voice trailed off wistfully as he let his daughter initiate what was sure to be a tittering interrogation.

Emma nodded and smiled and murmured appreciatively as the princess chattered away at her side. It was_ Savior_ this and _noble_ that and _I wish I could_'s and _don't you think that_'s and everything the knight hated about entertaining aristocracy. Lots of talking, not a lot of substance.

But Emma absorbed none of it. For her thoughts were still vehemently circling around in the garden, consumed by the Queen with devastating eyes.

* * *

Regina let her shoulders fall slack as soon as their backs had turned on her. She inhaled through her nose and sighed pleasantly at how the crisp bite of the winter wind still burned in her nostrils as she listened to their heavy footfalls fade into the distance.

_Thank god that simpering girl was finally gone from her side._

If she had been forced to hear one more fawning syllable about that charming prince Snow had met at the winter festival she was going to wring that girl's scrawny little neck.

_Oh my James is so handsome! James is so suave! The way he looks at me step-mother… I'm always blushing something terrible. And his chest is so big and strong! Like an ox. And his teeth… have I told you about his teeth? His teeth are so white and I swear that his eyes actually sparkle! Oh Regina you should have seen him!_

Regina had seen him. And he'd looked like a prick.

They deserved each other.

_Yes… let the troublesome little snot go be a queen somewhere else. Please._

Regina felt more like consort than a Queen. The King paraded her around like she was a trinket he had won at a marketplace faire: a pretty little gem to complete his pretty little familial image. But Leopold was not the family man he was made out to be, being neither as warm nor as kind as he pretended in front of his fellows and Regina had incurred his displeasure one too many times for her liking. She had learned rather quickly that when she failed in her wifely duties there were always dire consequences after.

She was expected to remain silent when seated next to her husband on the dais. She was to lavish the court with maudlin looks and sentimental statements of peace when told appropriate to do so. She was to smile and bow and lift the spirits of the commoners with her presence.

And she was not to inherit the throne.

No, that claim was for Snow White and Snow White alone: the princess who stood a mere six years her junior who Regina was constantly required to kowtow to and mother indulgently.

A slight crease formed in between Regina's eyebrows as she grimaced at the muddy footprints the trespassers had dug deep into the soft ground of her garden.

Because of how little say the Queen actually held over the events in her own life, whatever control she did manage to grab onto she clutched until it strangled, flexing her power relentlessly and malevolently over anyone she could… and she did so excessively when it came to her obsessive gardening rituals.

This garden was _hers_. Hers and no one else's. Butlers were not to preen it. Guests were not to visit it. And no one but the Queen herself was allowed to harvest the luscious fruit and curing medicines it produced. The fact that Snow White and Leopold still dared to tromp there whenever they pleased spoke volumes about the respect they held for her wishes.

Another heavy sigh blew past the brunette's lips. Her life had symbolism scattered everywhere.

Still glaring at the mark the King had made on her land, Regina subtly shifted the weight of her apple basket further up into the crook of her arm and redistributed the growing bulk. Then peering into plant life around her and determining that all of the interlopers had indeed left, she gently waved her hand, palm downward, over the scarred dirt.

Her fingers glowed warmly with dark purple fumes and freshly sewn grass sprung out of the earth as if the footprints had never even been there in the first place.

A ghost of a smile twitched at the corner of Regina's mouth.

"Cleaning up after castle brats are we, dearie? Now even I can think of a better use for your magic than that."

The Queen nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden voice and, internally cursing herself for such a childish reaction, quickly whirled around to meet the unfortunate little imp she knew would be standing there. Her lip curled in his direction.

"Go away," she sneered.

He didn't.

Instead Rumpelstiltskin sauntered forward with a spring in his step, gesticulating like a jester destined for some grotesque kind of carnival. Regina decided to outright ignore the fiend and pretended to diligently inspect an apple on the low-hanging branch of her favorite tree.

She failed in the next second when he suddenly popped into her eyeline and snatched the fruit right out of her palm.

He was very close to her face.

"When you didn't show up for your lesson today, I assumed you were dead." The imp gave her a stiltedly gross smile that showed too many of his rotting teeth and tossed her apple over his shoulder to be lost in the bush. His eyes laughed when her nostrils flared. "And yet, here you are."

Regina jutted her chin upward to try and gain some height on the little man that was still roughly about her size. She glared down her nose at him and sniffed petulantly. "I'm not so sure about these lessons anymore," the Queen scoffed. "I'm not sure I want a future that looks like…" her critical gaze skittered over his reptilian skin and bulbous golden eyes for a moment, "…well, you."

His irritating giggle grated into her nerves and Regina's eye twitched minutely. "Aww, feeling pessimistic today are we, dearie?"

"Well why shouldn't I?" the Queen snapped as her light-switch temper sparked within her chest. "You told me I would be capable of great things through magic. That I could secure my own freedom. And yet here I am still standing next to _you_. I need options, Rumple!"

The man shrugged with entirely too much satisfaction and when she scowled at him his grin only grew wider, "Can't be done, I'm afraid. This is how it is with magic. You are the feast and the darkness has tasted you, and oh does it like how you taste. It doesn't mind the _bitter_." He snickered menacingly at his own joke. "And now that it's started the meal, it's going to finish it. There's no going back now."

Regina's temples pounded with fury as her pretty features contorted into an ugly snarl. "You vile little creature, how _dare_ you talk to me this way?!" she fumed and rounded on her sniveling assailant, stalking vehemently toward the imp with purpose. "I'll have you strung up in the courtyards for all the realm to see!"

"Ah ah ah," Rumple taunted, prancing just out of reach of her burning ire. "But then where would you be, hmm? Still stuck in the palace with your magician's tricks and beginning-level sorcery? I don't think so. See, I think you want out of this gilded little cage of yours, and you can't do that without me."

The muscles in her neck went ridged with tension and Regina turned her back on the man so that he couldn't see the way her face had fallen.

"I do _not_ need you."

But the sorcerer crawled up behind her anyway and ghosted his putrid breath over the shell of her ear. "Oh really?" he mocked in a sing-song voice ripe with patronizing candor. "And tonight when the King calls upon you to do your duty, what will you do then? Will you finally resist his advances and make your daring escape? No. You'll magick yourself out of the castle only to find his guards stationed at every corner of the grounds ready to hunt you down."

Like provoking a snake he waited for the inevitable lash out, and when it didn't readily come he poked a little harder. "Are you really so eager to lose your head over that pretty little thought already?"

Instantly the hot boil of anger surged through Regina like a reckless wave and nearly drowned her in its wake; her face flushing brilliantly as embarrassment, outrage, and shame twisted together and rose up in her throat like bile, threatening to choke her where she stood.

Taking her simmering silence for the win that it was, the imp grasped the Queen's shoulders in his gnarled fingers. "My, my," came the feather-light touch on her bare skin, "I think treason will look lovely on you," he crooned.

The hair on the back of Regina's neck prickled in offense as she tried to suppress the nauseating need to shrug away from his touch. "You know that all I've ever wanted was to be free," she ground out hoarsely, hoping that at least some part of her voice wasn't as desperate as she felt.

But Rumple's jeering only persisted. "Then do something about it!" he spat, and his splintering fingernails bit slightly into her soft flesh. "Take control of your fate, dearie. Or shut your trap and accept the hand you've been dealt. It's as simple as that."

And even though she ducked her head from prying eyes, a low growl caught deep in the bowls of Regina's lungs as she released it through teeth that refused to part.

And still the imp continued to push, goading the breaking woman into oblivion, "Aren't you tired of being the royal family's plaything by now?"

Regina's skin was prickling. Her veins were seething. Her tongue felt sharp and short and nasty. She knew how this worked. She knew what he wanted her to do. And so the Queen allowed her eyelids to flutter shut as she breathed in her rage and waited for the all-encompassing weight the heavy emotion brought with it to nail her steadfast to the ground.

She didn't have to wait long.

_Heavy on top of her. The King. The wicked King. _

_Alcohol-flavored breath on her face._

_Wrinkled lips pressed against her collarbone and clumsy fingers picked at her nipple until it perked out of resignation. Hands groped the fabric of her nightdress into a ball so that he could run his length across her entrance. A stifled whimper on her part when he found her not nearly wet enough and forced his way in anyway. Like sandpaper against her softness. _

_Just wait it out. Ignore the mumbling moans for his dead wife against your ear. Pretend you're somewhere else._

"_Eva, Eva, Eva. Oh Eva, my love, my Queen…"_

_Thrusting, grunting, and one sticky release later and he would leave. Fasten his trousers without a word or a second glance in her direction. Always still in her nightclothes. Never naked. As if he couldn't bear to even look at her crumpled up into a ball in the middle of the bed. Crying into her pillow._

When her eyes flew open again they were pulsing violently with dark purple flames that licked and crackled and popped in time with her furious heart.

_This was all Snow White's fault._

Regina's fist clenched so hard around the basket she was holding that the weaving crunched in protest, threatening to break and drop her precious crimson cargo into the dirt. Her eyes glinted like shards of ice as they narrowed, glaring into the distance at the loathsome taffeta princess skipping alongside her aging captor and his newfound guest.

The imp's squeaky voice spiked through her thoughts and the condescending smile he'd infused into his tone had her grinding her enamel with such force it bordered on cracking.

"So… is our lesson back on for tomorrow?" he minced.

"Yes, Master," Regina murmured darkly. "I'll be there."

"Good. Don't be late."

She didn't even need to turn around to know that Rumpelstiltskin was gone. The resulting emptiness pressed in around her like a thick musk and bathed her in its forlorn scent. Her shoulders sagged under the pressure.

And once again, the Queen was left alone to tend her garden in the looming shade of the castle that kept her prisoner.

* * *

**TBC...**


	2. Caged Birds

**Chapter 2: Caged Birds Never Forget How to Fly**

Emma couldn't stop staring.

Boy, she wished that she could, but she couldn't. Because no matter how hard she tried, her treacherous eyes just kept flickering back to steal glances at the stunning woman in front of her.

She had finally remembered why Leopold's name had rang a bell.

It had been the talk of the realm right before she had left for the war; the king who was riding about in his kingdom in search of a replacement for his recently deceased wife. Many outsiders thought it unorthodox to fill the position from within his own land, but word amongst his people had been joyous and Leopold's populace had nearly fallen over themselves in their attempts to pawn off their daughters of marrying age. For the chance to be associated with someone as notable as a King.

Which meant that _this_, Emma glanced at the bubbly brunette chattering animatedly to the man adjacent, was the princess who couldn't get her runaway horse under control. That _he, _Leopold toasted a sullen-looking Arab at the far end of the table_, _was the King who had married the maiden who'd saved his daughter from her almost-fall. And that _she_, her eyes fell once again on the staggeringly lovely but rigid Queen seated across from her, had once been the sweet-hearted equestrian whose selfless bravery had been rewarded with a marriage to a widower at least two decades her elder.

The rumors had said the girl was young but _Jesus_, the Queen looked closer to Snow White's age than to her husband's. And the scandalous union had taken place at least, what, five- _six_ years ago?

Emma was sufficiently grossed out.

The White Knight wracked her brain for details. Tales of the horse-maiden's beauty had spread like wildfire around the time of the wedding, but soon after the King's nuptials had been completed, the gossip of what happened next just sort of… fizzled out. Talk of the beautiful young Queen had faded into the background as the peasants moved on to bigger and bolder lies, ever on the search for the next salacious story. They filled their empty heads with harrowing princes and mermaids who could walk and all sorts of blathering nonsense. The girl locked away in the castle was near ancient news by now.

Which did absolutely nothing to sate the now _burning_ curiosity Emma had for the Queen.

Regina leaned forward to inspect a nearby fruit platter and the knight couldn't help but notice the sudden cleavage that had appeared. Emma licked her lips and turned her gaze towards the ceiling.

_Lord, give me strength._

King Leopold had apparently broken routine tonight when he had invited everyone currently visiting the castle to dine with him in the grand hall, and as a result Snow was practically jumping up and down she was so overjoyed. She grasped her father's hand tightly in her own and he preciously kissed the back of her knuckles. The Queen diverted her gaze.

"Eating all together like a family again; it has simply been too long," the princess spewed. "For Father to surprise us like this is so delightful. Don't you think so, Regina?"

"Yes, quite," was the terse reply.

Regina was not sitting at the right hand of the King, where the spouse of a royal normally would be seated. Instead, Snow White had brightly commandeered the spot while the rest of the table had been consumed by a veritable bevy of fancy lords and ladies; each preening and posturing and turning up their noses as if they had a right to. Except for a kind-faced redhead who was seated about halfway down the buffet… who kept looking at her fork like it was the most fascinating object she had ever seen.

Which left Emma to be sandwiched between two very unlikely people.

Sitting at the left hand of the King and to the blonde's immediate right was the brooding Captain of the Guard. Graham they called him; the famed Huntsman from Sherwood Forest who had traded his service to the King for a permanent ban on the slaughtering of wolves. He was scruffy and withdrawn, and spoke with a heavy accent clogging his mouth. The man looked more content to be left alone with his ale than to be bothered with conversation.

And then there was the pregnant princess to her left that looked like she was about ready to burst. Her belly swelled dangerously from within the confines of her periwinkle dress and Emma kept worrying that she was going to unintentionally elbow the fragile woman in the gut. She felt clunky and awkward sitting next to the delicate blonde still donned in all her armor.

"…and he just popped out of nowhere when I was riding in my carriage!" the princess was saying. Her voice was a wispy thing that complimented the meek damsel-in-distress vibe she was giving off. "Nearly gave me a heart-attack in my surprise!"

"Oh Cinderella, to actually come face-to-face with the Dark One!" Snow tittered from beside the Queen. "You must have been terrified!"

But the soon-to-be mother merely laughed in the unaffected way aristocracy was wont to do. "It was more annoying, really," Cinderella sighed. "He kept going on and on about how all magic comes with a price and that I should beware the cost of happiness, when all the while I was just thinking about how I wanted to get back to my Thomas before the week was out."

"It sounds like you were very brave to fend off his ambush," Leopold praised, dipping his head at the girl.

Cinderella blushed in response. "My fairy godmother had a habit of popping up unexpectedly as well, so I don't know if you can really call it brave. I've kind of gotten used to it." Leaning forward conspiratorially, she continued in a stage-whisper, "But she is much nicer on the eyes if you ask me."

"Yes. By all accounts I've heard he's quite the wretched little thing," Regina's smoky voice added before she punctuated the thought with a polite sip of her wine.

"He really is quite gross, I won't deny," the princess agreed, shrugging softly as the white-gold locks pinned up beneath her tiara swished along with the movement. "But I honestly don't see what all the fuss is about. True, he is very unsettling, but I find it hard to believe that someone so odd could actually be as powerful as he claims."

The redhead in a pale green dress spoke up unexpectedly. "I don't mean to sound dense," she stated with wide eyes, "but where I'm from I've never heard of this Dark One. Who is he?"

Snow gasped from across the table and pressed an over-dramatic hand into her chest. "You've never heard of Rumpelstiltskin? He's only the most feared warlock in all the land!"

"More like an over-hyped con-artist if you ask me."

Snow's gaze snapped towards the Huntsman, the excitement of a scandalous conversation shining behind her eyes. "You don't think he's dangerous, Graham?"

"Oh, he's dangerous alright," the gruff man replied. "But only if you don't have a good head on your shoulders." He shifted wearily inside his heavily fur-lined cloak. "He deals in bargains and contracts, and he tricks you with his cunning words. And I don't doubt that he uses some pretty dark magic to get the job done after you've gone and signed your life away to him. But he doesn't attack just anyone. He's a schemer, and if he's after you it means you must have something he wants."

"But damn it if he's not one sly son of a bitch." The Huntsman shook his head from side to side and his tousled mop of curling hair swung into his eyes. "Everybody's got a weakness… we just haven't found his yet."

"If its information you're looking for, then you might find I have something of value," said a voice from the far end of the table that was all lips and gravel.

It somehow grated on the nerves when it was clearly intended to sound dulcet and unassuming.

The voice was attached to a dark-skinned genie in a bejeweled vest and harem pants. An elaborate turban sat upon his head and all faces turned in his direction as he spoke again.

"It is a well-known fact that beings born with magic in their blood are much more powerful than the ones who have had magic thrust upon them. Inherently spells will be easier, potions more manageable, etcetera, etcetera. But through the ages non-magical peoples have yearned to become casters themselves, and that is where our man of the hour comes into play."

"Enchanted items, such as specific books or lamps in some cases, have been known to bestow their powers on anyone who obtains said object, and in this circumstance, I've heard that the imp got his through the possession of a dagger."

"A dagger? What dagger? What does that mean?" Snow bubbled, completely wrapped up in the strange man's prose.

"It means, little princess," Graham answered seriously, "that Rumpelstiltskin was not born a conjurer, and therefore can be unmade just as any other man."

"Precisely," the genie continued. "Legend states that if anyone other than the Dark One, whose name is carved into the blade of the mystical knife, possesses the dagger, than they, and they alone, would have control over its arcane power." He held up a finger in explanation before anyone could ask. "And I'm not just talking about the Dark One's magical abilities. They would be able to wield the Dark One himself."

A devious smile curled up the corners of his moustached lips. "The imp would be no more than a puppet at your fingertips."

A hushed mumble raced down the buffet in whispers and worries and the man grinned wider at the effect his story had taken.

"He could be a valuable weapon if properly controlled," the King mused out loud, and he directed his murmur in the captain's direction.

"Do you have any idea where he keeps the dagger?" Graham immediately inquired.

"Oh heavens no," the genie scoffed, and the dread in the room lightened a bit. "I'm sure he has it hidden away under lock and key, safe from prying eyes. If anyone were to get their hands on it, he would certainly be in for a world of trouble."

"And that's why there are so conflicting rumors about the man!" the Huntsman spat frustratedly, and smacked the table loud enough to make several of the daintier ladies jump. "He's kept us running in circles with his lies!"

"But some of the rumors are true!" Cinderella insisted. "Like if you say his name three times, he _will_ appear in front of you. My friend's father tried it once and he ended up landing Belle into a whole heap of trouble."

"And we've already said his name twice already." Snow scowled as she looked around the table and aggressively shushed her respective guests. "No one is to say his name!" the princess commanded. "I will not have that man summoned to my father's table!"

At this the Queen, who had been listening _very_ intently to the conversation up until this point, decided to interrupt her misinformed step-daughter with an eye roll and a trivializing tone.

"Now don't be silly, Snow," she stated dryly. "I'm sure that _Rumpelstiltskin_," Regina enunciated the word slowly and pointedly for effect, "has no interest in ruining the King's dinner."

There was a moment of collective silence where everyone seemed to hold their breath.

…nothing happened.

"See?" The Queen waved her hand nonchalantly through the air. "I told you, dear. There is no need to go working yourself up over nothing."

"Yeah, because that's what summoning charms are for," Emma muttered under her breath.

_Oops. _

Twin regal eyes blazed across the table in warning and the knight ardently averted her gaze to somewhere down the buffet.

_Seriously, what was up with that girl and utensils? _The jabbering redhead was now unsuccessfully trying to hide at least three different types of cutlery underneath her napkin.

"So this guy is only dangerous if you make a deal with him," the spoon-thief was clarifying as she shoved another dessert fork under the place setting. "He didn't try to make a deal with _you_, did he?"

"Oh of course he did," the pregnant blonde responded. "But he failed because I already have everything I could ever wish for." Her hand came to rest atop her swollen stomach and she smiled. "He got to me too late."

Leopold leaned forward in his chair to get a better look at the tenacious princess. "I am still impressed that Thomas is letting you travel so far alone in your condition, Lady Ella. Were the few baubles you'd left at your step-mother's house really worth the effort?"

"As it turns out, no," Cinderella chuckled airily. "After visiting that horrid woman, for what I'm sure will be that last time, I realized that I want nothing of my old life in my new one. I deserve a fresh start." Her face lit up with a motherly glow. "For both me and Alexandra."

"A beautiful name." Regina returned the princess's grin with a fond smile of her own.

And for a fleeting moment Emma was transported back to the garden where the Queen had first graced her with that look. That smile. Something resonated in the kind gesture.

Something genuine.

It was a glimpse of something that royalty rarely had.

Cinderella absent-mindedly patted at her distended tummy. "Have you ever considered having children of your own, Regina? I'm sure you'd make a lovely mother."

And before her eyes Emma watched as that small hint of warmth in the Queen's face was suddenly eclipsed by one of hastily concealed panic. The brunette immediately stiffened in her seat at the gentle inquiry.

But it was the King who answered Regina's question for her. The man quickly spoke over the uncomfortable moment before most had time to even notice its presence.

"Regina is already a wonderful mother to my darling daughter Snow, and in that I could ask for nothing more. My daughter is the unending light of my life that I could never in a million years seek to replace." Leopold kissed his princess's temple in a show of love but his unwavering gaze remained firmly trained on the Queen as he continued. "But that doesn't mean that we're not trying, and the gods willing, someday soon I hope that they will grant me a son of my own."

Regina's mouth twitched. She looked like she was trying not to sneer at the slight and as a result the quirk of her lips came out at half-mast. Her eyes flickered downward as she dipped one of the leafy things she had been eating in a pool of gravy. Emma watched it disappear behind her crisp white teeth.

Emma wondered whether or not Regina had ever been one of those flighty girls who had wished to marry a prince when she was young. Had she dreamed of gowns embedded with gems and glittering rings to adorn her fingers? Prayed for a life of luxury with servants to cater to her every whim? Fantasized about how she would entertain notable guests of high repute at lavish dinners such as this?

The brunette in question speared another vegetable with a little more force than necessary and barely restrained the snarl in her nose aimed at the uncooperative food.

Emma thought not. There was a fierceness about the Queen that just could not be faked. The reckless girl from a long-forgotten story was still buried underneath the royal shell of a woman in front of her… and she didn't like the platitudes and back-handed compliments any more than Emma did.

Regina was clever; Emma could just tell. And startlingly so at that. And it fascinated the White Knight to no end.

The way she hid in plain sight, beneath her long lashes and beautiful face. Her quick responses and mindful gestures. How careful she was to come across the way she wanted to be perceived.

_And good god that mouth._

Emma was finding the Queen's mouth particularly distracting in the absence of conversation interesting enough to hold her attention.

Over and over she memorized the method of her mouth: full, plump lips pursed and thinned in mesmerizing syncopation. Stretch and pucker. Sigh and moisten. Rosy and wanting and unbelievably sad. Air exhaled. Teeth snagged. A flicker. A catch. The tip of a tongue.

The hairline scar engraved into the soft flesh just slightly above.

And as she began to ponder the exact texture of said scar, Emma let her gaze roam idly upwards… only to find two fathomless chocolate eyes searing back into her own.

_Oh god._

She'd been caught staring.

"What?" Her Majesty mouthed the words across the table and even without any sound Emma could tell they were accusatory. The brunette reached into her lap to remove her napkin and self-consciously dabbed the corners of her perfect lips.

Emma felt her cheeks heat up and quickly looked back at her food.

_Chimera. Never been a favorite of hers. Too gamey._

Emma spiked a healthy forkful into her mouth anyway. With her mouth full she wouldn't be tempted to say anything stupid.

The knight chewed the lump vigorously for a few minutes before she allowed herself one more, hopefully surreptitious, glance at the Queen. And when she finally did, Emma was met with an amused smirk where she'd thought she'd be met with a glare.

_Holy shit. Regina was smirking at her._

Emma could practically feel the blush crawling up into her ears. She shifted inside her suddenly constrictive chainmail and managed to give a sheepish grin in return.

The Queen raised an inquiring eyebrow and the knight's stomach did a flip-flop.

"Emma!" Snow's voice shot up over the mild din of the guests like a shrill bird. "You've been rather quiet this evening. Tell us something about your adventures!"

The blonde's head snapped toward the princess with such alacrity that it was a feat she didn't sprain anything in the effort. Eyes wide and mouth full she almost choked on her chimera as she tried to swallow the meaty bulge politely.

Emma coughed mightily in the humiliating process and missed Regina ducking her head to hide a grin at her expense.

"Yeah, Savior," the Huntsman smirked, clapping the knight once on the back. "Regale us with tales of your valor."

And this was exactly what Emma had been hoping to avoid. Everyone was staring at her and she wanted nothing else but to disappear completely into the floor.

"No, no," Emma tried, hoping to shrug off the attention. "It wouldn't make good dinner conversation."

"Oh Emma, don't be modest! Please!" Snow gushed. "I've heard so many second-hand stories about your endeavors, but to hear it from the source…" she shook her head in awe as a blinding smile lit up her face, "would truly be a gift."

"I too, would love to hear your version of the war," the genie chimed in unhelpfully. "So many elements become fabricated the more the account is told. For instance, most have you wielding some kind of magical sword that glows with golden fire."

"Yes, that one seems to be quite a common thread," Leopold added, and his eyebrows rose in interest. He looked at her like he knew something she didn't and a soft tilt curled up his wrinkled lips. "Is there any truth to the rumor?"

Emma felt her back muscles tense all the way down her spine. She was usually able to hide her less-human qualities under the guise of battle fatigue; convincing someone that their brief encounter with the otherworldly was actually a hallucination was way easier when you backed it up with the horrors of war. It was one of the perks of never putting down roots. You could lie, and then leave, with no one the wiser.

And Emma _really_ did not feel like being outed in front of all these aristocrats.

Magical beings had to be careful where they reveled themselves. Depending on what you were and what abilities you possessed, a multitude of things could occur:

You could be killed on the spot.

You could be taken hostage and forced to perform as a servant.

You could be held prisoner in a dungeon in order to keep 'the populace protected'.

Or you could be celebrated, revered, and immediately elevated to a position of power.

None of these options sounded pleasant to Emma. Death omens such as herself were really only appreciated during times of war and once people knew what she was, they rarely took kindly to keeping her around in times of peace.

So the White Knight looked the King dead in the eye… and lied right to the man's face.

"Nope. Can't say that I've ever seen my sword do anything like that," she replied. "Although it certainly would've been handy a few times," and threw in a fake chuckle for good measure.

Snow noticeably wilted at the fib. "Really? Are you sure?" she pouted. "Because in my travels to the mines I've seen some things." She began ticking items off on her fingers. "People that can levitate. Weapons imbued with magical properties. And magic dust that can come in all sorts of colors. Blue, and green, and pink, and _gold_…"

Emma's eyebrows almost brushed her hairline when she finally caught on to the train of thought, "Are you calling me a fairy, Snow White?"

The pallid princess countered her incredulous look with copious amounts of apologetic blushing. "Oh no! Of course not!" she stammered, even though that was _definitely _what she was hinting at."I didn't mean to imply that– …I only thought– …You must know the lore surrounding– …I just meant–"

But again the Queen cut off her rambling step-daughter with a sharp voice that had all eyes instantly trained on her. "What I believe Snow was trying to insinuate was that, given all of the fuss surrounding your rapid ascent into the title of Savior, she was merely expecting you to be more…" she paused as she seemed to roll the word around in her mouth like a fine wine, "…_impressive_."

Emma straightened in her chair. _Whoa. Hey now. Shots fired._

"Now, I mean no offense, of course," the Queen continued blithely. "But you have to understand that the kind of stories that precede you led us to believe you were some kind of messiah. And with no discernible powers to speak of, I think we are all simply wondering how you garnered such renown in the first place."

Emma tried not to feel offended at the jab about her battle prowess but her feathers ruffled anyway. "I didn't say that _all_ the rumors were untrue," the knight protested. "I served my King better than most and rightfully earned my title of White Knight by way of a fairly hefty death count, thank you."

"But I _do_ think that all of the best stories are the most gruesome ones, and I was refraining from them for your sake. I assumed that they would not be appreciated by a fine lady such as yourself."

Regina met her roguish grin with hum placed deep within her elegant throat. "And what is it that you believe I wouldn't like, Sir Swan? Do you think me unable to watch a knight be impaled by a blade? To witness a head being cleaved from its shoulders? Or is it the act of seeing the life bleed from one's eyes that you think I wouldn't be able to bear?" The quiet rumble of the Queen's voice had lowered to the point where it was bordering on downright sultry, and Emma had to remind herself how to breathe. "Because I assure you that is not the case. So if you think that you can scare me, Sir Knight, think again. I'm sure I've seen far worse."

_No one should be allowed to make horrible things sound that pretty._

Emma's flabbergasted expression must have exploded onto her face because suddenly Regina was flashing her this snake-eyed smile and Emma just wanted to slap her. The knight scowled as the need to protect her ego flared inside her chest.

_So the kitty has claws. Duly noted._

The White Knight almost changed her mind. Almost. She had stories that would make the Queen's toes curl and the paint peel off the very walls if allowed to tell them in their full capacity. And it would certainly be worth it if only to wipe that smug look from Regina's haughty face. But with the way that the King was downright _leering _at her at the mere mention of magic, Emma thought better of it and begrudgingly held her tongue.

Graham laughed, completely unaware of the tension forming between the two women, and elbowed Emma lightly in the ribs. "No need to worry about that here, Savior. Our Queen might be a lady but she is not so faint of heart. She herself is actually quite fond of the games, aren't you Your Majesty?"

The Queen's self-satisfied smile confirmed the claim in the most arrogant way imaginable.

"Oh Regina, say it isn't so!" Cinderella squeaked beside Emma, utterly aghast at the notion. "You can't possibly enjoy those gladiatorial bloodsports? Thomas tried to take me to one once and I couldn't even begin to stomach the brutality. I swore I was going to be sick."

"I don't know," the Queen murmured. "I find the threat of death sort of intoxicating, don't you? It makes everything crisper, because everything counts. It pulls an awareness out of us that we weren't even conscious of in the first place. Every movement, every flexing muscle, has to be perfectly in sync with the lethal dance or otherwise you'll find yourself suddenly without a limb. And I just– the sheer power of holding someone's life in your hands and knowing you decide their fate… how can you not be completely enthralled by the possibilities? By the precision that takes?"

If Emma didn't know better she would have thought that Regina was about to devour the woman on the spot. Her gaze was hungry and gleaming and it made a knot form low in the pit of the knight's stomach. But Emma was not one to be outdone and she could feel her adrenaline spiking in the wake of the Queen's sentiments. She was the White Knight for god sakes, and for a royal to best her in battle stories was just unheard of.

And so the blonde boldly, or very stupidly, input her two cents.

"Truer words have never been spoken by someone who has so obviously never been in a fight before."

Regina's head flew towards the knight, her eyes on fire. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Talk is all good and fine when the damage done doesn't affect you directly. But I somehow think you'd feel differently if it was your neck that was on the line." Emma reached nonchalantly for her ale. "_No offense_," she added smugly.

She watched as the Queen literally bristled in front of her eyes. "You assume to know me when you know nothing."

"I can see your dainty hands without callouses. And I think that alone speaks for itself."

A somewhat constipated look passed over the brunette's pretty features and Emma wanted to smile in victory. Riling up the Queen was kind of fun; danger be damned. Everyone here was too uptight anyway.

Regina's lips pursed until they had pinched into a thin, taut line. "Just because my guards are charged with my protection does not mean that if push came to shove, I would not be able to take action for myself."

The knight brazenly leaned forward and rested her elbows against the table with so much swagger it hurt. "So if someone were to hand you a blade right this very second and tell you to slit my throat, you'd be able to do it? To slice clean through my flesh as I gurgled and sputtered my own blood into your face?" Regina noticeably paled at that but fought not to show it. Emma's eyes sobered. "I thought not."

The venom snapped back into the Queen's voice to cover whatever was currently going on inside her head and anger rolled off of her in waves. "I don't care who you think you are, _knight_," she practically spit, "but I will not allow for this slander of my personage to continue unrebuked! It is wildly inappropriate and completely uncalled for. I could leave you to rot in the dungeon for such–!"

"Ladies, ladies, please," Leopold spoke up in an almost bored tone. "I will not have a catfight break out at my table. Regina, Emma is our honored guest. If you really have such a qualm with the woman, take it up with her on the field tomorrow when she begins her training."

That was enough for Emma to break her battle of wills with the righteous Queen to glare at her husband instead.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You are to start training with my army tomorrow," The King replied simply. "I thought you might like something to help keep you occupied during the whole of your stay."

"Oh my! The Huntsman and the Savior in the same regiment!" Cinderella tittered. "That's monumental! Leopold, you have certainly outdone yourself this time! The kingdom will be in a riot!"

But Emma was still locked in a staring match with the King. He smiled victoriously, knowing she had no choice but to accept his offer by not insulting him in front of his guests, and Emma's stomach sank. There went her hope of sneaking out of the castle later tonight.

"Unless you don't want to that is," Leopold offered, and his smile never wavered.

"That's… very generous of you," Emma managed through her suddenly clenching teeth. "I'd be happy to sharpen my skills for the remainder of the month, _like we discussed_," she emphasized pointedly, "but then I really will have to be on my way."

"Until the end of the month? Oh–!" Snow gasped excitedly and brought her hands together in front of her heart. "Are you going to be here for the birthday celebration?! Oh Emma, if you are, you must enter the tournament! Shouldn't she, Father?" She clapped a few times as she glanced around the table.

Emma did little to stifle her aggravated sigh. "And what exactly is this tournament?"

"The King's Tournament. We hold it every year in honor of the birth of our King Leopold," Graham supplied. "The best fighters from miles around compete tooth and nail for a chance to enter our competition."

"My prizes just can't be beat," Leopold boasted. He took a large gulp of his ale and some of it caught in his goatee.

"You can start your preparation tomorrow when you meet the other men," the Huntsman continued, and for a moment Emma felt bad for finding him irritating. He was rough around the edges but he met her eyes with a grin. If only he was acting on orders she agreed with.

"That is, if you think you can beat us." The gruff man nudged her in a way meant to be familiar, but it came off as a little awkward instead.

She forgave him. "We'll see."

"No, really. You should enter the competition. It's a great test of skill and notoriously vicious. More people come out of it dead than alive every time." Graham tilted his head to the side in a manner that reminded her of a dog. "The final rounds have no surrender option… and from the sound of it, that's right up your alley."

Emma's brow furrowed as she narrowed her eyes at the King. "Why do you make it so ruthless?"

"If it wasn't, it wouldn't be famous. And not worthy of a King's attention, I might add," was the answer she got. Leopold sniggered at the thought and toasted the air. Regina, who had grown quiet once again, raised her eyes heavenwards like her husband was excessively trying her patience. She turned her attention back to her food.

The King was beginning to slur his words a little. _Just how much alcohol had he actually imbibed?_ "It has to be brutal if I'm supposed to find it pleasurable. If I was fool enough to be lenient on the entrants than I'd have every lack-luster page, peasant, and stable boy lining up to complete! The hapless saps. And that wouldn't be entertaining at all."

If Emma hadn't been looking directly at the Queen in that moment she would have missed it.

Regina's whole body froze in time as something dangerous flashed across her eyes; dark and sticky as her hand stilled mid-thought in the air. The fork she was holding reversed course as it was placed against her plate with the food uneaten and the brunette looked down primly to readjust the napkin on her lap. Swallowed once and brought her face back up to rejoin the conversation. Her expression was tight.

"Today has been rather taxing on me I fear," Regina stated plainly as she went to stand, the husky guard behind her rushing to pull out her chair, "and think it best for everyone if I bid this evening goodnight a little earlier than usual. My King. Honored guests." She indicated each with a glassy pass of her eyes.

If royalty departing unexpectedly halfway through a meal was unusual, no one seemed to take note. Emma's forehead scrunched up in surprise. She didn't want the Queen to leave.

But she also seemed to be the only one that felt that way.

"Your presence will be sorely missed, Your Majesty," Graham dutifully answered, and simply took a healthy gulp of his ale. A ripple of less-than-sincere agreeing murmurs echoed behind him.

And with barely a demure nod in his direction, the Queen was suddenly off in a quickened rush of petticoats, striding with purpose past the head of the table until the King halted her with a hand to her wrist.

"Regina," Leopold called. "Aren't you forgetting something?" His words were light but his eyes were hard. They flicked once towards the surrounding company now giving them their undivided attention.

She only paused for an instant. "Of course not, dearest," and she promptly bent at the waist to give him a quick peck on the lips that barely touched.

Emma grimaced none-the-less.

When the Queen straightened, her features had already set into a pleasant mask. The King's hand had still not left her wrist. "Is there anything else you require of me tonight, Your Grace?"

He looked contemplative for a moment, and then– "No. I have other business that needs attending to tonight." Leopold released the hold on his wife only to wave his hand dismissively in her direction. "I will see you in the morrow. Emma–"

The blonde jumped a little in her seat. The way these people changed subjects was going to give her whiplash.

"Speaking of sleeping quarters," the King continued, "my good man Sydney is leaving us today!" He gestured to the turbaned genie that Emma still found somewhat annoying. "Which means his quarters in the west wing of the castle are now free. I'm sure that you will find them quite comfortable whenever you choose to retire."

And just like that, the conversations started back up; blooming around the table in increasing volume as if nothing had happened. Snow was interrogating Cinderella about baby names. Leopold was informing Graham about what his docket entailed for tomorrow. And Regina…

Emma looked over her shoulder and watched as the stocky guard from before moved from his post and followed the Queen as she silently disappeared out of the hall.

* * *

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Regina could tell she was cold. The hair on her arms was standing on end and her jaw had begun to clench. And she was pretty sure that her hands had gone numb from how long she had been standing there. She looked down to see whitened knuckles staring back.

But she just couldn't bear to be inside anymore.

The Enchanted Forest taunted her with its nearness. She felt like some sort of jungle cat, captured and left to stalk at a fence. To growl behind bars that kept her so claustrophobically contained while the unfettered masses constantly reassured her that this life was a gift. That it was something to be treasured.

This was what she wanted. This was what everyone wanted. She was living the dream. She was the Queen.

_The Queen of Nothing._

Her mother's voice echoed inside her head and a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill in the air settled itself in her spine.

_Come now, darling. You are completely useless on the throne. No one listens to a word you say._

The brunette caught her lips in the beginning of a bitter snarl.

During the first few years of her marriage Regina had tried to escape her fate multiple times. It had started with running, then progressed to horse chases, and finally landed on magical means.

Obviously none of them had worked.

With no other options left to her, she had resentfully turned to her mother's original plan of action: raise the tributes, form a personal guard, and prove to the people that she was where the new power of the kingdom lay.

But it was taking too long. Regina was an impatient woman and Snow White was nearly at marrying age now. She wanted retribution. She wanted out. She wanted to stop scheming and plotting and faking her way through her own existence.

Regina just wanted to overthrow the King and be done with it.

But today she'd gotten sloppy. That obnoxious Swan woman had gotten under her skin and she had foolishly let her anger rear its ugly head in front of everyone. She had promised herself that she would not make that mistake again.

Even if she did find the knight infuriatingly attractive.

_Queens never show their weakness._

She would just have to do more. Be more. She would study harder and smile wider. She would curtsy to her king and dote on her step-daughter. She would bide her time. She would become the daughter that Mother had always wanted her to be.

_She was never enough._

Regina's stomach twisted as she slammed her hands hard against the balcony railing and the impact on the stone ricocheted cruelly up her arms.

_She wanted to kill them. She wanted to kill them all. Throttle them in their sleep and watch as their eyes bulged out of their skulls. Strangle and slaughter and slice at their flesh until she was finally free from these stifling palace walls. _

Her temper roared in her ribcage and the blood sizzled in her veins.

_Daniel would be so disappointed in her if he knew._

Her heart ached terribly at the thought and she brought one of her trembling hands up to clutch fervently at her chest.

Regina had failed her beloved twice already and she couldn't bear to do it for a third time. She could still hear the hearts thundering around her as if they had only attempted his resurrection yesterday, thrumming and pumping erratically inside her mother's vault. She could still see his lifeless form laying cold and dead on the table.

She had sobbed into Jefferson's coat for far too long afterwards. Her tears had soaked all the way through his jacket until his shirt had stuck to his skin.

In the present, Regina felt something wet drip onto her neck. Then another drop splashed lightly onto her hand.

More and more unsightly betrayals of her emotions followed shortly after.

_She hated that she felt this way. Hated that she felt so helpless. Hated that she felt so angry. Hated that she hated so much…_

Regina leaned a little farther over the balcony.

_The trees looked so small from up here; so utterly insignificant in the grand scheme of the forest. Her prison dwarfed them all in comparison._

The soaring height of the tower made Regina's head swim dizzily but still on and on she looked. And looked and looked and looked.

_There was just so much space between her and the ground. So much space that belonged to no one but the birds._

…another tear… and another… and another…

A braver person would jump. A braver person would take control of their destiny and rid themselves of their obligations once and for all. She would have no mother to let down. No lover to grieve. No imp to study under. No princess to feign love for. And no husband to bow to.

And the terrifying dreams in which she choked her snowy ward to death in front of the King would also be gone as well.

_She would not become evil in order to get what she wanted. She absolutely refused._

Regina closed her watery eyes and took the kind of deep, stuttering breath one would take before plunging themselves into the ocean.

She imagined the tilt of her toes pushing off of the balcony. The split second of nerves as she threw herself into the gaping air. The hitch in her breath as freedom came within her grasp. And then there would be nothing. Nothing but her and the wind; carrying her away, carrying her down. No tethers. No ties. No titles. Just falling and twirling and twisting. Air and wind and nothing. Floating hair and angel grins. Nightgown flapping about her arms like wings.

_And for one glorious second before the end hit, she would feel like she was flying._

"Your Majesty?"

Claude had schooled his expression into the expected unaffected mask required of the royal guard as he called out to his Queen, but he almost broke it when she spun at the sound of his voice and graced him with the stricken expression painted across her face.

Silhouetted in the moonlight against the open air with her nightdress fluttering softly in the mild breeze, Claude was violently reminded of the first night Regina had stayed in Leopold's castle all those years ago. He had found her like this then too; gazing out at a world she couldn't touch with her hands clenched around the railing that kept her from seeing it. Long ebony locks fell in loose ringlets over her shoulders to frame half-parted lips and a trembling chin. And when the breath hiccupped in her chest it took all of his self-control not to move from his post, his instincts screaming at him to show her comfort and protect the woman at any cost.

This was his Queen. And to see her so distraught just would not do.

But this was his Queen. And she could have him beheaded in an instant if she felt he had overstepped his bounds.

And one did not just simply _touch_ the Queen.

So Claude spoke to her in a gentle tone that he usually reserved only for his own daughters and secretly included the Queen amongst them in his head, "Your Majesty, I believe it's time for bed."

She blinked once. And in the span of that blink the brunette's eyes went from wounded to dead; the light behind them shutting off so quickly that Claude broke his promise to himself and felt his mouth droop slightly at the corners.

Regina responded with a voice that was eerily flat, "Yes, I think that would be best."

She turned mechanically and walked to the edge of the bed, not bothering to wipe away the stain of tears that still glistened against her damp cheeks as she climbed beneath the heavy covers. She laid with her back to him to stare stubbornly out of the window she had just left.

"You may go," was the command.

He bowed to her back with another "Your Majesty" on his lips and was nearly out the door when a much quieter version of the brunette's voice broke the air.

"Claude?"

He stopped in the doorway. "Yes, My Queen?"

Her form was deathly still underneath the duvet, held rigidly against the mattress. A hand he couldn't see pulled the bedding more tightly around her and the downy sheets pressed into the Queen like a cocoon.

"…thank you."

The husky guard inclined his head even though he knew the Queen couldn't see it and his helmet fell forward over his eyes ever so slightly. "Always, My Queen."

And he shut the door behind him.

* * *

**TBC...**


End file.
