Title: Through Heaven's Eyes
Pairing: Evil Queen (yes, that's a ship name), Evil Swan Queen (so is that)
Summary: Emma and Regina get a visit from an old familiar face
A/N: This was supposed to be a short one-shot. 5,000 words later...
Regina should have known it would all go wrong the moment she woke up with a smile on her face.
It had been a slow awakening, with the glow of the full moon streaming in from her window. Her eyes had slowly fluttered open, and the first thing she could be aware of was the arm draped around her middle. A warm presence at her back, and she knew she was being spooned. A pleasant tickling on her neck as her faint motion shifted the golden curls of her lover. Soon to be wife, she reminded herself, glancing down at the modest diamond gracing Emma's ring finger. She felt warm. She was safe. She was loved.
And so she smiled, and allowed herself to drift back into peaceful slumber.
When she woke again she was alone.
Eyes snapped open. Frantic, she twisted, checking the bed and then, sitting up, the rest of the room. Emma was nowhere to be found. Her first reaction was panic. That Rumpel had returned to kill them, that Cora had somehow found them. That Snow had stolen her daughter away to hide under lock and key.
It was only after a few deep, rationalizing breaths that she forced herself to calm. To remember that Cora was dead. That Rumpel was human again, living out his own happily ever after with his wife and son. That Snow, begrudgingly, had given her blessing. (So long as she refrained from doing magic like a good little girl, of course.) Henry was even off visiting his grandparents for the weekend, kindly giving Regina and Emma some time to themselves before the wedding.
Emma was probably just downstairs. It wasn't often she awoke before Regina, but on the days she did she always mentioned how beautiful she looked when she slept. How content and relaxed her face was. Regina felt a smile tugging just from the memory.
Emma's disappearance was quickly explained by a note left on the bathroom vanity.
Ran to the store to get more coffee. Didn't want to wake you. Be back soon.
Relieved, she took a few more breaths, and felt the peace she had known so few hours ago attempt to drift back into her veins. Still, she was more than awake now, and quickly dressed in a white button down shirt and high-waisted black pants. Simple, comfortable, and elegant. She did her hair and make-up, just a little for today, and took a deep breath to face her biggest challenge of the morning.
Since Emma's arrival and subsequent breaking of the curse, Regina had become painfully aware of the passage of time. Specifically on her face. She tended to avoid the magnifying mirrors any more, sticking largely to the full length one in her closet. So when she was finally all put together, it was to that mirror that she headed, just to do a final check.
She froze. Before her, dangerous and beautiful and terrifying, was herself.
"What...?" she breathed wordlessly, not trusting her eyes.
The vision of herself echoed her every motion in reverse as she stepped closer to the mirror, the hardness of makeup belittling the expression of shock on her face. The Evil Queen was dressed resplendently, in black and purple brocade edged in silver beads. Regina remembered loving that dress. It was what she'd been wearing when Snow had bitten the apple. It was her victory dress.
Slowly, cautiously, she stepped forward with an outstretched hand, disbelieving. Watching with wide eyes as the mirrored image of herself that was not herself did the same. Her fingers stretched, tentative as the reached for the glass and then hesitated inches away from touching it.
With a sudden, savage smirk, the decision was made for her, and the Evil Queen's hand burst through the mirror, snaked around her throat, and then slammed her backwards into her rack of shoes.
With a pained gasp that was more surprise than anything else, Regina could only watch in horror as her former self finished stepping through the rippling glass with all the liquid grace of a predator. "Hello, dear."
"H-how?" she squeaked, fingers automatically clawing at the hand around her neck.
The Queen only laughed in response, releasing her neck with a flourish. "Does it matter?" she grinned, and surged past the former mayor in a rustle of fabric and malice. She left the closet after fixing it with an intense look of interest, finally entering the bedroom proper.
Regina, shell-shocked and heart beating rapidly beneath her breast, followed after a hesitant moment. "You can't be real. This is impossible," she announced, and was pleased when her voice barely trembled at all.
Another chuckle, low and deep in the base of the Queen's throat. It made Regina inwardly cringe. She remembered that sound. Nothing good came from it. "Can't I? You above all people should know that nothing is impossible. Not for Us, dear." She was still looking around the room, taking in everything with an imperial air about her. As if she owned it.
And Regina couldn't quite argue to herself that she didn't.
Squaring her shoulders, the former mayor seemed to shake herself. Accepting the situation for what it was. She didn't understand it, of course. Couldn't explain it with anyone other than a blanketing 'magic,' but like hell would she cower before her former self. "What do you want?" Her voice was even. Hard, almost, and she used the same inflections that would strike fear into the hearts of any town committee member.
The look on her counterpart's face when she turned, surprised, almost made her laugh.
Less so when she saw the Queen's fingers wrapped around the photo of Emma and Henry she kept on the dresser. A jolt of panic lurched through her heart, and she shot her hand out defensively, as if to summon the magic she was forbidden from practicing. "Don't touch that!"
"Oh?" An all-too-familiar eyebrow arched. Black fingernails idly traced over Emma's face. "A new toy? I can't say that I blame you; she's quite comely." She tapped on the glass of the picture, and a thoughtful look appeared on her face. "Very much Our type, I think."
With all the liquid grace of her former life, Regina stepped forward and snatched the picture from those hands. Hands that only destroyed everything they touched."No," she sated evenly. Vehemently. Not Henry. Not Emma. Not ever.
It did not take her by surprise when darkness slid into her counterpart's eyes. When the Queen's hand once more snaked out around her throat. Expecting it, she did not even bat an eye, staring down her former self. The Queen searched Regina's face, dark eyes moving at a frenetic pace as she examined every detail. Finally, with an expression of what could almost be called awe, she lessened her grip. Regina's eyes closed, and she wished the only real difference between them would not be written so obviously on her face. But of course it was, and of course the Queen saw it. She knew herself better than anyone, after all. "You're in love!" The words were quiet, barely more than a shocked whisper.
Regina opened her eyes again, and swallowed. "Yes," she breathed.
The hand retreated from her neck completely, but the Queen stepped forward, removing all sense of space between them as she stared at her other self. "Then it was worth it?" The hope in her eyes was almost endearing. "We're finally happy?" So desperate. So much longing.
Regina could not bring herself to hate this woman. She was a part of herself, and without her, without the curse, she would not have Emma. She would not have Henry. She didn't even hesitate in her answer. "Everything was worth it."
The Queen's hand moved to her own chest, then, and she began to pace. A disbelieving smile slid over her features; the same she had worn when Snow had finally bitten and fallen unconscious at her feet. "...It's been so long," she murmured quietly, more to herself than to Regina. "I've nearly forgotten what it felt like to be in love. To be wanted at all..." She turned once more towards her other self. A flash of what was unmistakably jealously darkened over her face. "Show me."
And before Regina could even process it, she felt lips on her own- hard and ferocious and demanding. Violent. Long fingernails dug into her shoulders, pulling her closer, molding her body against purple and black brocade.
The former mayor struggled at first, but then froze. She remembered being this woman all too well. The constant need to be loved. The constant rejection. Everyone ran from her. Everyone had always run from her, until Emma.
But without her, Emma would never have stayed. Could never have been the savior she was. Her savior.
Regina closed her eyes, and then pulled the Queen closer. She would not- could not- reject her as well. So she relented, and with the barest hint of tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, she parted her lips to what was essentially her own tongue.
Their kiss was angry at first, the Queen's lips and teeth furious in her need to feel loved. Regina did her best to temper that violence; offering tenderness as opposed to pain, gentility to anger. The Evil Queen was all passion, she knew. But passion could be guided. She felt hands tearing at her blouse, black-tips clawing at her bare skin as the fabric rent into tatters.
Hissing in slight pain, she pulled back from their kiss, only to lower her head to her counterpart's neck. Nipping, kissing, sucking lightly on the Queen's collarbone, making her gasp in pleasure. The Queen's head tipped back, giving Regina full reign to that glorious neck. She took wicked delight in marking it, lips and teeth trailing paths of fire over the sensitive skin. It was intoxicating, almost. She could see why Emma so delighted in- and she stopped that line of thought right there. This wasn't about Emma.
...Well, it was actually all about Emma. Emma was the difference between herself and the woman who stood before her. She still marveled at it, at times. That the Savior had been her personal salvation, too. Without her... well, she would have easily slipped back into the persona before her.
She shook off the thoughts of her blonde love, though. It wasn't the time. Her hands gripped the silk covering the Queen's shoulders, squeezing lightly even as dark nails continued to wreak havoc on her own clothing, ripping through the fabric of her bra easily.
Forcing herself away from the tempting neck before her, Regina paused to make herself fully topless, shooting her other self an irritated glance at the uselessly wasted clothes. Especially when a wave of her hand would have had the same result. She did feel an odd moment of satisfaction when the Queen's eyes lowered to take in the sight of her body, and an approving smirk fell over her lips.
But that was all the time she cared to give it before she launched into motion, pawing at the corset, fingers taking only a moment to remember how to undo what had once been second thought. With her own smirk, she attacked her younger self's throat again, turning the Queen so that her back was facing the bed. Regina pressed her entire body forward, propelling her other self to flop down on the comforter, landing with her knees easily straddling the Queen's hips. Buried in deep folds of fine fabric.
She fully expected it when darkness fell into the other's eyes and she flipped them easily, forcing Regina's back into the mattress and straddling her. The former mayor nearly rolled her eyes, but allowed it. She didn't have to be on top. Not any longer. The Queen did. She arched her back, forcing still partly-covered breasts to crush against Regina's. Pushing her backward slightly, Regina successfully divested the Queen of the rest of her bodice, pulling the thing from her shoulders and flinging it behind them. She sat op a little, taking the Queen's hands in hers almost tenderly, locking eyes with her, and then slowly leading those hands to the top of her elaborately decorated headboard.
Oddly enough, the Queen allowed herself to be led. Regina bent down to lightly tease her lips over a fully aroused nipple, placing gentle kisses to each side. Tiny licks and nips with the barest grazing of her teeth. Her counterpart groaned, arching her back to thrust her chest more fully into Regina's mouth. "Show me." It was almost a plea. "Show me."
Glancing upwards to meet eyes identical to her own, Regina took note of the sheer amount of need in them. The desperation. She took a tiny moment to press her ear to the chest of her younger self, already knowing what she would not hear. Her heart, of course, had not yet been reclaimed. Slowly, she trailed a series of kisses upwards from chest to lips, tending to every scar long since healed, every mark that no one else could see. But she knew where they had once been, of course. She was the only one who did.
The Queen's expression grew puzzled, and then widened with understanding. One of her hands left the bed, a wicked fingernail carving the faintest of lines into the former mayor's cheek, not deep enough to draw blood, though the intent was clear. It was as tender as she could be, Regina knew. With a stilted sigh, she leaned herself forward and ran lips and teeth and tongue over the joining of neck and shoulder. And then lightly, ever so lightly, bit down. At the same time, she shifted herself beneath the folds of skirt, and brought her knee to rest directly between the Queen's thighs.
The reaction was instantaneous, hands completely leaving the headboard to roughly grasp Regina's shoulders, gasping at the contact even through her undergarments. Her fingers curled, nails digging deep into naked flesh, and the former mayor hissed, drawing back to run her tongue over the mark she'd just made with her teeth.
Slowly, her knee began to move, teasing over inner thighs and pressing into undergarments already damp. The Queen groaned; she waved her hand, and the fabric separating Regina's knee from her heat was gone. The skirt, Regina was slightly amused to note, remained. She peppered the Queen's neck and shoulders with heated kisses, sometimes biting down, sometimes laving her tongue across heated skin. Through it all her knee continued to thrust, shifting forward so that wet heat met her thigh.
The fingernails had retreated a little, leaving half-circle indentations in her skin, but she couldn't be bothered to care. The Queen's back arched again, her head falling backwards, and Regina could not have resisted the urge to lower her head once more to heaving breasts, taking a nipple between her teeth and sucking deeply.
Gasping in reply, the Queen finally allowed her own hands to slide down the length of her counterpart's back, resting over her hips and holding her there.
Regina did not expect much in the way of reciprocation. The Queen had never been much for anyone else's pleasure. And this, after all, was about letting her feel. She allowed her leg to drop, and before her younger self could protest, she bit down, flicking the nipple between her teeth with slow, measured movements of her tongue, then drew back to exhale over it and watch it stiffen further. The Queen growled then, actually growled. A hand snaked its way into shoulder-length hair and twisted, pulling violently. Her other hand's grasp on her hips tightened considerably. Hard enough to bruise. "Enough games!" she demanded.
Grimacing at the sudden pain, Regina's teeth instantly released, head falling back to ease the sudden pressure on her head. Her own hand slid beneath the immense skirt, finding and then parting slick folds easily before slipping two fingers deep inside. "As you wish," she smirked.
Crying out, the Queen's body arced at the sudden and very welcome intrusion, hand instantly leaving her hair to cling to Regina's neck. A third finger slid home, beginning to thrust slowly. Very, very slowly. The Queen thrashed above, bearing down on taunting digits, trying to increase the pressure. Regina's smirk only widened, and her thumb twisted upwards, flicking over a very prominent clitoris without mercy.
Hips arching and rolling into the thrusts, the Queen's eyes closed, head once more falling backwards as she rode Regina's fingers, groaning out her need. "Gods-!" she moaned softly.
It gave Regina pause. She'd never been one for religion, having little use for it. That her counterpart was invoking it now... well, she was obviously far closer that Regina would have originally thought.
"Yes..." The Queen moaned again, and then ended in what was almost a whimper. "Show me."
Regina slowed, and then completely ceased, withdrawing her fingers to instead trace gentle patterns over the wetness of inner thighs.
The Queen protested loudly, eyes snapping violently open. Pained. Disbelieving. She lunged forward, forcing the former mayor back into the headboard. "How dare you!" she snarled. The tension must have been unbearable indeed.
Unbowed, Regina merely arched an eyebrow, and raised her free hand to smooth over the Queen's hair and cheek. "Shh," she soothed, a smile on her face that betrayed no hint of guile. Her fingers continued to taunt and tease, thumb just barely brushing over her younger self's clitoris. "Trust me."
It was a ridiculous thing to ask, she knew. The Queen could not trust anyone. Everyone always failed her. Or left her. Regina knew that better than anyone. But her younger self swallowed thickly, letting out a painful sounding gasp. And seemed to agree. Smiling, Regina leaned forward and kissed her. Slowly, this time. With none of the fevered, frantic passion of earlier. And when lips parted and a tongue arced forward to caress over her own, she slid her fingers back inside, inch by torturous inch.
The moan that followed was loud enough to prevent either of them from hearing the gentle knock of a lover's hand on the door.
Emma's eyes were glued to the mug of coffee in her hands, knowing how much her fiancee would detest it if even a single drop splashed onto the carpet. "Regina?" she knocked again, precariously. Her free hand twisted the door open and shut it immediately behind her. Forced habit.
"Are you awake ye-" her eyes finally fell on the bed and she stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening and mouth falling to the floor. The coffee dropped from her hand in a shatter of ceramic and a splash of brown.
Her first thought, when her brain kick started enough to think again, was that Regina was half-dressed in an elaborate costume with some worthless whore underneath her. But then the kiss broke, the folds of the immense skirt shifted, and she saw full well who lay half-beneath her.
They both turned to look, of course, the former mayor's hand instantly slipping away with a groan from a voice Emma knew very well indeed.
Even inches away from orgasm, the smile that lit up the Queen's face was utterly wicked. "Oh," she purred, and her pelvis rocked subconsciously forward into that of the former mayor. "Hello, dear." A cruel hand ran down Regina's cheek, lightly tracing her fingernails over the bones in that familiar face. "I so hoped I'd get to meet you." She turned that smile down upon Regina, taking delight in the guilt blooming over her face. "It seems she loves you back," she told her. Her expression shifted again, back from near-orgasmic to unimaginable jealousy. "How wonderful for you."
"You..." Emma gasped, eyes darting from one set of brown eyes to the other. Her mind felt as if it were turning in on itself, and she nearly screamed, unable to keep herself from continuing to stare at the two women, so alike. And so very, very different.
Regina, for her part, said nothing, merely mouthing Emma's name with lips that could not dare emit sound. She only met Emma's wide eyes with a steady, plaintive gaze, and willed her to understand.
Emma had been surprisingly flexible with unexpected magic in the past, and was, of course, fully aware of who exactly her fiancee used to be. But this, of course, was the first time she'd ever come... face-to-face with the darkness, as it were. Regina closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the tears that had been threatening throughout this entire encounter to finally spill down her face.
They landed in droplets on the Queen's thumb, and, almost startled by the sudden wetness, she looked down, intrigued and then entranced, and lifted them to her lips automatically.
Regina didn't notice, her eyes once again open and staring into Emma's. Remembering and hoping Emma was doing the same.
They'd lain curled in front of the fire, naked limbs tangled into one another, panting and sighing as they'd relaxed in the silence that fell after taking their pleasure in one another. After a long, contented silence, Emma had finally told her she understood why she'd done it.
"You just wanted to win, right?" Her fingers had brushed a bit of sweat-matted hair away from her brow, and Regina had sighed, catching her arm and placing kisses along a pale wrist.
"Winning wasn't enough," she'd finally answered. "If it was, I'd never have adopted Henry. I just..." She'd paused, staring blankly into the fire. "...Everyone else was loved. Except me. ...I wanted that. I needed that. And I never..." and she'd trailed off, unable to finish.
"Hey," Emma had taken her chin in her hand, caressing her cheek and lifting her head to look into her eyes. "You are loved," she'd stated, and the warmth and caring in her tone had, for the first time, made Regina believe it. "You are loved."
And now Emma was staring at her, betrayal and shock still in her face as her lover was straddled by... her lover's former self. Emma's head shook, in disbelief or pain or something else.
"Emma," Regina whispered, the first time she'd spoken in a long while. "Please..."
The Queen's head snapped to attention. "'Emma?'" she echoed, eyes darting from Regina back to her blonde lover. "Snow's Emma? The Savior?!" Her lips parted, wholly and utterly confused.
At the mention of her title, Emma's eyes flashed with understanding. Like the breaking of a dam or a bolt of lightening, just as it had in the hospital when the curse had broken. "Oh." Emma's shoulders dropped, in recognition or in defeat, and, hesitantly, she approached the bed. She glanced at Regina. "I understand." She offered her love a smile, asking permission. It was given with a nod of a dark head, and Emma turned her attention to the Evil Queen.
She was, after all, the Savior. It was her job to save everyone. Even those who she had already thought saved. And despite all that was done, she could not help but love this version of Regina, too. She was a stepping stone for her Regina. For the existence of Henry. She made the Happy Ending possible.
Her hands fell to the hem of her tank top, removing it and her bra without words or fuss, and then she clambered onto the bed behind the Queen.
A perfect eyebrow arched, and the Queen laughed delightedly, turning to her counterpart with a wry grin. "Oh, I think I can see why We like her."
Emma shot her a glare. "Shut up," she groaned, and then leaned forward to crush her lips against those of her True Love's darker self.
The kiss was incredibly passionate, echoing the earlier violence. Regina found herself amused that the Queen hesitated before opening her mouth to Emma's questing tongue. When she finally did, Emma had no such issue in invading, devouring, drinking in the lips and mouth that she was so used to. The Queen tasted different than Regina. Darker, somehow. More bitter, but somehow still incredibly intoxicating. Especially so when the Queen's hands slowly moved over her exposed shoulders and raked those wicked fingernails down her back.
Beneath them, Regina allowed the kiss to continue unimpeded for several truly agonizing seconds. The jealousy seen so often on the face of her younger self flared into life over her own. Unable to stand it any longer, she darted forward, once again bringing her lips to a deliciously exposed neck. The Queen groaned into Emma's mouth, breaking the kiss and arching her back. "Show me," she demanded again, and there was definitely a pleading undertone to her voice now. "Show me what love feels like." If it had been in her to beg at all, Regina was sure she'd have done so.
Emma brought her hands to each of the Queen's shoulders. "Lay back," she said simply, and pushed.
Regina's eyes widened. And so did the Queen's. But to Regina's surprise, she complied, slowly retreating off of the former mayor's lap and reclining fully against the bed.
Green eyes locked with brown over the prostrate form of the Evil Queen, and Regina reached out to lovingly caress Emma's cheek, wordlessly thanking her. Emma turned into the touch, pressing a kiss to her lover's wrist as Regina had done that night in front of the fire.
The Queen should have stopped them, she knew. She should have demanded their attention and forced them to cease gazing at one another. But she couldn't. She couldn't even stop looking at her older self, watching in wonder as expressions she'd never thought to see again flitted so easily over her face. Completely in tune with the Savior, of all people. Practically reading the blonde's thoughts, and vice versa. In wonder, she couldn't help but reach up to touch that face so like her own, needing physical proof that such emotions still existed. Still could exist, for her.
Regina smiled down at the touch, and with a glance at Emma, lowered herself to one side of the Queen, propping herself up with an arm. The other tangled in the folds of the skirt, and she cocked an eyebrow at herself with an amused grin. "I think it's time for this to go, don't you?"
Her throat suddenly dry, the Queen couldn't form words, and merely nodded. Her hand waved and she was finally fully nude. Her center pulsed with arousal, still reeling from having been brought so close and left wanting.
As one, Emma and Regina wrapped themselves around her, kissing and caressing as they each grabbed a wrist, slowly and gently raising her arms above her head, stretching her body out between them. Sharing a wicked smile, the two above continued to move in sync, mouths lowering to each devour a stiffened nipple. Nibbling, sucking, sending shooting waves of arousal with every flick of their tongues. Hands slowly began to move over the rest of her, and her senses became so overloaded she could barely tell whose was whose. Nails dragged over her ribs, making her gasp and writhe and thrust forward. Soft pads ran up and down her thighs, tracing circles over her knees.
The pressure on her breasts eased, and Emma and Regina looked at her face and then at one another, leaning forward to share a shockingly tender kiss over her chest. The Queen couldn't help but be completely entranced. They parted, and then each took turns kissing her, sharing that passion. That love. Her eyes closed, holding back tears.
Someone's hand slipped between her folds, lightly massaging her clitoris. Someone else plunged into her, suddenly and deeply enough to make her jump, legs spreading wider. She sucked on the tongue currently caressing hers, not caring whose it was. The thrusts increased, the teasing pressure to her clit building. Circling, flicking, pinching, rubbing. She groaned, and then screamed, pulling back from the kisses with a frantic need for air. Another finger slid inside, and she finally came completely undone.
Her body pulsed against four hands, still caressing, still thrusting. Her eyes snapped open to witness another shared kiss, and she gasped. She felt lips trailing kisses down the sides of her neck, moving up to her ears.
"You are loved," they whispered.
Dark lips parted in a silent scream. Tears fell in silvered tracks down her cheeks, and her body shuddered yet again. Emma and Regina joined again in another kiss above her, pouring all their love, all their passion into it.
When they parted, they were alone.
The coffee stain on the rug remained.