A.N: So this is Emma's P.O.V. of the affair. It does not deal with Regina's departure, but to my chagrin this and the previous piece with have at least one more follow up, if not two. It will probably be two. On another note this needs another title now that the first one is just the theme of the chapter rather than the whole story. Feel free to offer suggestions.
The Weakness in Me
She hadn't met with him the first time with the intention of betraying Regina, she'd gone to see an old friend, an old confidant, and if he'd flirted and she'd flirted back, well it was just their way, until he'd kissed her, less than an hour into their meeting. Until he'd kissed her and she'd let him. She wanted to say that Regina had crossed her mind immediately, that as soon as her true love had entered her mind she'd leapt away from him, slapped him, cursed at him, but the truth was she hadn't thought of Regina at all, not until he had her on her back with her riding leathers undone. She had pushed him away then, before she could betray Regina completely, at least she'd told herself that at the time, believing that she'd stopped it, been the noble one, and because no real crime had been committed there was no reason to tell Regina, to confess and destroy their peaceful if not blissfully happy lives.
She'd told herself it was for Regina's sake that she'd kept the first encounter to herself, but it was for her, because she was weak and she, Emma Swan, was no hero.
She'd been gentler with Regina in the next few days, less cutting, less resentful, because wasn't it she, the white knight, who'd almost destroyed them, while the evil Queen remained innocent of such a betrayal, remained the sort of woman who would never throw away a chance at true love without cause, without reason.
And there had been no real reason. She couldn't say he'd ever truly inspired raging passion in her, he never had, and he'd simply been convenient. Raging passion had always been reserved for Regina, Regina with her dark eyes and darker hair, with her smirk, and pointed arch of her brow as she gazed at Emma, refusing to budge, insisting that she would not be a prisoner in the castle ever again. Her whole attitude had grated on Emma, as if Regina choosing to end the curse absolved her of casting it in the first place? It was Emma's love that protected Regina and so Regina's lack of concern over her past deeds struck Emma as proof that her true love was not wholly reformed.
And instead of talking to Regina about it, yelling about, she let it fester, after the first encounter, she let her mind run away with her, let herself imagine how much easier it would be if Regina was not her true love, if it was someone else.
She let herself be weak for one moment, one moment that turned into two, then five, then ten, until it was she who sought him out. She'd lain with him, forcing passion that did not come easy, forcing Regina from her mind more than once, and forcing the look on Henry's face if he ever found out from her mind. She'd lain with him and let him whisper sweet words to her, promises that were empty because he may believe he loved her, but she would return to Regina after, she would try to put this betrayal out of her mind, and call it settling the score.
So when he'd whispered, "We could be together you know? No one would blame you for leaving her." She remained silent. She let him believe that she could believe that.
But the truth was someone already blamed her for leaving Regina, for even a moment. Emma blamed herself for the moment of weakness, for the slight crack in their love that was started on her end, with her refusal to give in to Regina completely, to love her without resentment.
A crack that was now a fracture because of her, because of her weakness.
Despite her self-loathing, it had continued. She'd told herself every time she met with him that she had to tell Regina, he told her that Regina would probably kill her, and him. She'd only refuted him when he suggested that Regina would have it in her to hurt Henry. That much at least would never be true, and what right did she have to judge Regina any longer? She was the one hurting Henry, Regina, hell even Snow would be furious with her.
It had started to affect her interactions with Regina, and resentfully, Emma had blamed some of her actions on Regina's sudden disinterest in sex. Regina was suddenly tired, and in her heart of hearts Emma knew Regina must feel that something was off, that something was different, but she'd still been angry, angry that Regina was punishing her without even knowing what crime she'd committed.
Anger, resentment, they were both easier than guilt, guilt and crippling fear as the specter of Regina's ignorance wavered and became the thought of Regina ever finding out.
So one night she'd voice her inner most thoughts, in a moment of true weakness she gave voice to her resentment, her guilt, her fear, "I hate that I love you."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she'd wanted to wake Regina up and apologize, she'd wanted to confess and beg forgiveness but again she was weak, she was terrified, and so she'd tried her best to go to sleep, ignoring that tiny voice in the back of her head that told her that Regina's even breaths were a little too even.
It was her mother that had discovered the affair. And the look on her face as she'd stared at them before tersely ordering that they get dressed would stay with Emma for the rest of her life. The look of betrayal on Snow's face must have been a pale a shade of the look that would decorate Regina's but it was enough to knock the air from Emma's lungs.
"You… Emma…" Her mother had turned to him then and all but snarled, "Go… Go and do not return. If I see you here again I will…" Her teeth were bared and her eyes were like slits, and then she'd sagged, "No… I…" She ran a hand through her now long again hair, "I can't be the one to end this… this thing, this mean, shameful thing."
Emma had winced, "I…"
Snow shook her head, "She… Regina doesn't deserve this Emma."
He'd spoke then, in a voice that was tainted with loathing, "I thought you more than anyone would believe that the evil Queen deserved whatever suffering she got, the bitch-"
To her shame it was not Emma who leapt to Regina's defense, but Snow, "Do not speak of her that way! You think she is evil, that she is a bitch? Has she betrayed Emma? Has she done anything but love her and Henry? Do not speak about things you know nothing about, you may lay with my daughter, but Regina loves her! You do not! You couldn't, if you did you would not let her do this to herself, to her son. Gods know what happens when true love goes wrong, I know what happens. Evil Queens are what happen."
Emma flinched more than once, "Mom…"
Snow turned to look at her, and instead of pride, there was disappointment, "Tell her Emma, if you love her, if you respect her at all, you will give her the courtesy of a confession." She turned on her heel and then paused to speak without looking back, "Tell her Emma or I will. Whatever her crimes, who she once was, she was once one of the two people I loved more than anything in the whole world, and she does not deserve this, not from you."
The sudden weakness in Emma's body had nothing to do with her mother's disapproval but with the sudden blinding clarity that soon Regina would know.
She'd honestly believed that Regina would be blindsided by her confession but she hadn't been, in fact she'd been enraged with her, enraged that Emma had the gall to confess. Emma wasn't sure if it was insulting to Regina that Emma had believed that she'd pulled one over on Regina, or if she really was terrified of losing her reason to pretend. Of releasing the tight grasp she had on her emotions, on her anger, and pain, on her hurt.
It was probably both.
And just maybe, a confession made it real, it made it undeniable.
She was stunned and hurt that Regina had known, had known and let it happen and for just a moment she questioned if Regina really did love her, because how could she if she let it happen, again and again?
"Almost as much as you hate loving me…" Emma had finally seen the crack in Regina then, as her true love turned on her heel and made her way to the balcony. For one insane moment she was afraid that Regina would throw herself off the balcony, but then, no, Regina would never do that, not to her or Henry. Regina, for all her faults would never be that, she would never be weak.
Emma spent the next month doing her best to be the perfect true love to Regina, she rode horse with her, she played with Henry with Regina, to the boy's delight, she sat next to her at dinner, and she'd cut off all contact with him.
The only thing she couldn't bring herself to do was touch Regina. She couldn't kiss her; she'd lost her right to true love's kiss. She couldn't begin to imagine how she would ever be able to ask for that kind of intimacy again. How she could ever expect Regina to lie with her after her betrayal.
But she should have known that it would be Regina with the strength to take what was hers.
It had started out angry, and at least a little painful, as Regina took her, hard and fast, with no mercy or concern for her comfort. And Emma had reveled in it, had let it happen because she deserved Regina's anger, she let herself be taken by Regina with a violence that Regina would later regret, weakly she let it happen because a part of Emma was just so relieved that Regina could bring herself to touch her at all.
And then it had changed. Suddenly the violence was gone as Regina pressed into her, over her, with tears in her eyes as she made love to Emma in a way that reminded her of their first time, before the curse was broken, before Emma had realized that her true love really the Evil Queen in Henry's storybook.
Regina had worshiped her, had her again and again, and had not let her return the love. Regina had claimed, gently, reverently she'd loved Emma until she'd exhausted her. Until Emma had slumped weakly into the pillows and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning she thought nothing of Regina's absence from their suddenly hopeful bed, not until the smell of smoke and ash drifted weakly through the open window of their chambers.
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