Chapter Text
"She wanted to stay?"
The question comes as The Queen dematerializes in front of Regina's eyes. She rolls them and flicks her wrist. If it's a choice between the inquisition and watching Emma Swan stuff her face, she'll take her chances with the former, certain there will be innumerable opportunities for the latter in the coming years.
"You've met her parents," she drawls, appearing outside the stables. "Can you blame her?"
"You have Sunday dinners together."
Against her better judgment. Somehow, she always ends up in some form of argument with Charming about matters that don't pertain to them in their semi-cursed town. From the constitution, to religious freedom, to which political party they would choose had they been born in that world; the topics range from anything to everything and even when they begin on the same side, it rarely ever ends that way.
Regardless, she has her reasons, and not all of them revolve around their son as some might accuse. Though the fact he wanted it most of all is a significant enough reason on its own, it is not the main one she conceded to family night once a week. "We blamed the wrong person."
"She should have known better."
"Snow White was an oblivious little girl who's only want was that others be happy," she counters, not in the least fazed when the Queen scoffs at her in response. She questions, "If we could fall for mother's tricks, what hope did a ten year old have?"
The Queen waves dismissively, turning on her heel. "How unfortunate for her that it's a lesson I don't learn for another three decades."
Sighing, Regina follows her into the stables. The attitude might be grating, but she's not wrong. It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize that, while to a lesser extent; Snow White was a victim of her mother the same as she was. "Was I ever tempted to change it?"
"Frequently."
She nods. She had a feeling that was the case. She also has a feeling she knows the answer to the question she's about to ask, but she decides to ask it anyway on the off chance she might, possibly, be wrong. "What stopped me?"
Stopping by a familiar stall, the Queen faces her abruptly. "Them."
Regina looks away. The answer is exactly what she thought it would be. There will only ever be one them to who the Queen can be referring. "You honestly believe she's our happiness?"
"As did you," she replies, "once upon a time."
Peering up at her, Regina's mouth twitches. "Then I met her," she deadpans.
"After you forgot her," the Queen growls. Shaking her head a moment later, she adds, "I saw what she did for us. If that isn't love—"
"I know."
Her jaw visibly clenches and she repeats, "You know?"
Regina inclines her head. She knows. She has for a while now. "I had every intention of talking sense into her when I brought her home," she admits.
Henry isn't the only one who's been paying attention. It was why she'd tried so hard to find Emma, and why she insisted on going alone. Emma has never done well with distractions, and despite his protests to the contrary; Killian Jones is exactly that. A distraction; nothing more, and so much less.
Eying her as if she doesn't quite believe her, the Queen turns, tongue clicking against teeth as she reaches out. Regina's heart leaps when a familiar muzzle moves to nudge slim fingers. "Knowing that would have saved some time."
"That's what you get for only spying on her," she retorts, coming to stand beside her.
She hesitates to touch but the Queen grabs her hand and replaces her own with it. "Oh, I spied on you occasionally," she admits, "and then you met the buffoon and I decided it would be better for the both of us if I stopped." At Regina's glance, she explains, "If I had to hear the word honour from a man so obviously lacking one more time, I was going to kill one of you, and I wasn't quite sure which."
Regina fights her immediate response, teeth catching her tongue before she angers her more volatile younger self by reminding her that he is their soul mate. She has never understood why she insists on defending the man, but she seems to be doing it more and more lately. First it was David, then Emma, then Henry, then Emma again. Now, her instinct is to argue with herself even while knowing they are all right. She didn't want to see it at first, but now that she does and she's opened her eyes to the possibility of more, she doesn't want to go back to being blinded by a fate she isn't wholly convinced was hers to begin with.
"He was the soul mate of a frightened girl who didn't know any better than to trust meddlesome little moths," the Queen adds. She steps back, away from the stall, and gestures for Regina to take her place. "I heard what she said to you."
Doing so, Regina rubs Rocinante behind the ear as she processes the words, then frowns. "Tinkerbelle?"
The Queen hums an affirmative. "She said you ruined his life. If you— we had walked into that tavern, not only would he never have met his True Love, but we would have been hunted to the very ends of the realm by Leopold's men, and executed the morning after we'd been found."
Recognizing the argument as one she's heard before, Regina smiles warmly. It is true and it's something she has thought about ever since Neverland and her conversation with the fairy, but she has spoken of it only once, and only to one person who had responded in an eerily similar way. "You've been talking to Emma."
"Of course I have." The Queen huffs. She grumbles childishly, "It's all I seem to want to do these days."
Regina smirks. She can't count the number of times she's berated herself for that very thing over the years. "Irritating, isn't it?"
"Extremely."
Turning back to Rocinante and staring into those deep, seemingly bottomless eyes, she sighs a second time, giving in to his silent plea as she conjures an apple in the palm of her hand and holds it out to him. "They're getting a divorce you know," she says for lack of anything else to say.
"True Love isn't a personality," the Queen murmurs. "I'm not surprised Marian finds him as dull as I do."
"You've definitely been talking to our son."
"The boy is smart," she counters.
Pride fills Regina's chest. "He is."
"Think he gets it from her?"
She laughs then, nodding her acceptance of the intended slight as the Queen flashes her a grin. Playing along, she says, "I think underneath all that blonde, there exists an extraordinary mind screaming to get out, yes."
A throat clearing demands their attention at the entrance of the stables where Emma raises a brow at the Queen and nods to Regina. "See what I have to put up with?"
The Queen smiles. "Hello, dear. Finished raiding my kitchen, have you?"
"For now." Emma shrugs and saunters over to them. "What's going on?"
Mirroring the shrug, the Queen supplies, "I was thinking we might go for a ride."
"Can I come?"
Her brow rises. "Can you ride?"
"I can try…" Emma wrinkles her nose, appearing to change her mind. "Or," she quickly adds, "I can cuddle up to one of you."
The Queen clucks her tongue and waves in the direction of Regina. "You'll be riding with her."
"Scared?"
"Of myself, who has had thirty years to become more powerful and even more unreasonable than I am on my worst days? Adorable as you are…" The Queen smiles sweetly and pats Emma affectionately on the cheek. "You are the only fool here, Princess."