A/N: I just wanted to take a second to thank everyone who continues to follow and read this story. It really means a lot to me that people are still enjoying it and want to read more. I know there was a long time between the last post and this one. I've taken steps to ensure that does not happen again, barring any unforeseen circumstances. A special thank you to mamawolf2 for reminding me I had not yet posted this one as it was my intention to do so months ago and thus I thought I already had.

Thank you again for being so patient and absolutely wonderful.

A fool's deal seemed like a much simpler solution than running headlong into a fight where allies were just as likely as enemies to run a sword through your back. A sword, as Regina pointed out, that would likely be her own if the sheriff insisted on tossing it like a javelin at the opponent. The idea, she said, was not to arm the enemy with more weapons than they already had. And Emma understood that. Really, she understood that. But it was easier to simply lob the heavy metal sword at the nearest enemy rather than stand back and wait for said enemy to try to run her through with their own. It gave her the opportunity to flee the scene and regroup far, far, far away.

Like in another world away.

Which was precisely what she wanted to do when one of the soldiers she'd seen lounging about the halls suddenly thrust his axe in the direction of her belly. Dancing backwards and nearly colliding with the wall behind her, Emma scowled first at the guard who meant her harm and then the Queen who meant him to do her harm. "Little warning would have been nice, Regina," she spat as she performed an elaborate dance away from the bloodthirsty man. "Really, just a heads up would've done. A 'hey, Emma he's about to try and kill you'!"

"The Rules of Engagement, as told by Emma Swan." The dark-haired woman chuckled, wrapping her elegant hands around the golden-hued arms of her throne and leaning back to get a better view of the makeshift battlefield. "Tell me, dear, is your plan to inform everyone who wishes for your head to play by the rules you have instated? Or, are you simply going to toss them another weapon and plead for a quick and clean death?"

Quick and clean sounded decent enough if it meant her head wouldn't be bashed in by a heavy looking axe, Emma thought as she dashed behind the solitary throne. There was no comfort to be found, however, in using Regina as a blockade of sorts as, with a flick of her fingers, the sorceress had tossed the sheriff back into the playing field several yards in front of her without much effort at all. "When you said sword practice," Emma muttered, ducking a high blow intended for her throat, "I didn't think you meant right now. And I definitely didn't think you'd just tell some guy to take my..." another blow aimed at her feet, "fucking head off. Kinda thought we were over all that..." and another to back her against the wall, "killing each other shit."

"It's not about killing you, my dear," Regina drawled. "Quite the contrary, in fact. In any other instance, I would have started you slower, perhaps with more warning and a considerable amount of training in how to keep hold of your weapon. However, the circumstances don't allow for that, not if you'd like Henry to ever see the light of day outside the small, insignificant windows in the dungeon again." Rising from her seat, she motioned for the haphazard attacks on the confused blonde to stop. "You've already fought a dragon, Emma, and won. To a point, that is, but you still came out alive, which is more than I can say for most of the men who previously tried to destroy Maleficent. If you could do that, then what is one insignificant guard?"

"He has an axe," Emma said dryly, not daring to tear her eyes away from the man. "And something tells me he isn't afraid to use it."

"And you have a sword. There is no difference between the skill level you could have and the one he has already mastered. The only difference is that he isn't afraid to die."

Squinting into the dimming light of the room, Emma met the dark glance aimed her way. If that was the only difference between them, besides a good fifty pounds, then that division of power was going to stay, because she was afraid of dying. "I'd really prefer to keep my head where it is, Regina, but thanks for that pep talk."

Regina rolled her eyes and stepped into the makeshift battle arena. With a wave, she dismissed the guard and conjured her own weapon- a simple training sword that one of the children might have used in town. "It wasn't meant to be a pep talk. My point was that he had nothing to lose except for his life. Our most basic instinct is to preserve that life, which is why he wasn't afraid to kill you if it came down to his life or yours. You were more concerned about fleeing the attack without doing a thing to prevent it from happening in the first place, which left you open to injury."

"Are you saying I wouldn't kill him to save myself? 'Cause that would be just suicidal to stand there. And I definitely wasn't just standing there." Emma countered the fact as she relaxed enough to collapse in boneless heap on the nearest chair. "Pretty sure I already made myself clear when I said I'd do anything. Besides, it was just a training thing, wasn't it?"

The brunette leaned on the thin weapon, delicately balancing her weight against it. "You also weren't doing a damned thing to head off the attack before it forced you to move and become vulnerable. What would you have done if I'd issued an order for your death? If he would have taken that last step and went for a lethal blow? What would you have done then?"

"Honestly? Probably asked you if you were out of your mind." Contemplating her own death had never been quite so prominent in the forefront of her mind before, and she honestly didn't like the macabre thoughts there. In books, weren't the pep talks before battle supposed to be about finding gold and treasures, not about how everyone would likely die a gruesome death? "And in what world were any of those meant to not be 'lethal blows?"

"Before or after he eviscerated you?"

"Definitely before," Emma answered with a sharp nod of her head. As Regina had said, she'd already proven herself against a dragon. If both wanted to kill her, then what would have been the difference between defending her life from either one? It was an easy answer to find- his eyes. A dragon was a dragon, but seeing a man's life flash through his eyes was another thing altogether. "Look, it's not a big deal. When it comes down to it, I'll do whatever it takes. It doesn't matter if I couldn't...what are you doing?"

Regina straightened her spine and held the sword aloft, balancing its weight between her fingers as she waited for Emma to mimic her stance. "No gimmicks, no magic, and no unfair training advantages. I've never needed to use a sword in the past, so you might have the upper hand here, except, like our friend, I'm not afraid to die anymore."

Shaking her head, Emma rose to her feet but left her own weapon aimed at the floor. "I'm not fighting you," she said. "Whatever jacked up death wish you've got working right now, I'm not playing into it. I don't want to die, I want to live, and playing knights with you isn't going to change that. I get what I need to do and if it comes down to it, I'll do it in a heartbeat but this isn't going to help. I don't need to prove this to myself or anyone else. I'm not going to stand here and...dammit, Regina!"

The tip of the sword nicked her pants, cleaving a sliver in the fabric several inches down from her ribcage. She heard rather than felt the tearing of the fabric from her skin, and when she looked down, there was nothing in Regina's eyes that suggested a training session was in order. The sorceress' eyes were pitch black, firmly intent on the blonde target that dashed and danced across the room in an inelegant dance to preserve her life. "Seriously, Regina, I'm not doing this."

Another swipe of the sword nearly disassembled the stays on her pants, but Emma refused to return the parries. Instead, she met blade for blade in a weak attempt to hold the Queen off until reason could persuade her to stop. "You need to stop now, Regina. I'm not the enemy here and...would you fucking stop trying to kill me...or undress me? What is your fascination with my pants?"

"Fight back!"

Emma dropped to the floor, leaving her weapon in the last place she had stood against the attack, and covered her chest with folded arms. On her knees, she waited for the training session to end. Whatever results Regina wanted, she wasn't going to be the one to give them to her. "Not you," she said in an easy, even tone. "I'm not fighting you again, not even like this. You want me to learn like this, then call back in your boy with the axe, but not you."

The sword wavered in the air, mere inches from the savior's nose, until, finally, it released and fell to the ground. "Why?" Regina asked quietly, leaving the scene to find comfort on her throne. She collapsed bonelessly into it and awaited for the Swan reasoning sure to come.

Emma stood. "Because it was useless. I was never going to try to take a swing at you, so what was the point? I don't react because I'm told to, Regina; I react because I have to." Sitting on the arm of the throne, she risked a glance down at the queen and grinned at the quirked brow she received in response. "Maleficent tried to kill me, so I tried to kill her. It's really as simple as that. What you were doing- and, seriously, what is your fascination with my pants- was more like flirting."

"Flirting, dear?"

That dark eyebrow was going to be the death of her, Emma was sure of it. "Yeah. Kind of like what you did every single time you ragged on me in Storybrooke. Subtlety, you are not, Regina. Which, by the way, didn't we need to see Mr. Gold or- God help me for this- Rumplestiltskin sometime soon? Not that I'm not liking your cozy digs here, but...it's drafty and I'm not so fond of the color black anymore."

"Aren't you?"

"On you," Emma conceded, "Not on every single wall in this place. Seriously, you need an interior decorator or something. Color is your friend, Regina, embrace it."

Regina waved it off, and Emma off the arm of her throne. "If you're so very anxious to see Rumplestiltskin, then-"

"Hold it!" The blonde held up her hands to prevent whatever bad thing (undoubtedly) was about to happen. "I never said I was anxious to see him. In fact, if I had my way I would go the rest of my life without seeing him again. It's just...well, I think I'm actually to the point of disliking Maleficent more than Gold right now and if he can make her go away then I'm all for seeing him in his itty bitty little prison cell."

"It's more than just a prison cell, dear. It's a containment area for his magic. Within it, he won't be able to pull a rabbit from within a hat, let alone anything more than that."

Emma shrugged. It didn't really matter much if the man was locked away in Alcatraz or not. What did matter was that he was useful without extracting all sorts of promises for golden geese or her firstborn child or a one-way ticket to Mars. Actually, the last thing might make life more pleasant for her if he was to request it. "Whatever."

The first thing she thought of when Regina's hand clasped around her forearm was that it was warm, and pleasant, and secondly, that Regina smelled faintly of apples and spice and a day's worth of home-cooking and-

Well, fuck all of that.

Her head spun as her feet made contact with the dirt floor that was very much not a part of the Winter Castle. In her peripheral, she thought she saw armed guards but she couldn't be sure if they were just a figment of imagination or not as they disappeared a quick second later. "Warning, Regina. A little bit of warning goes a long way, especially when you're going to pull that purple smoke poof-ing crap. It's bad enough we're here to deal with Mr. Can't Say a Damn Thing Straight. I don't need to deal with the poof-ing stuff on top of it. Now, where is he?"

"Hello, dearie."