A week passed, and Regina and Emma saw very little of each other. The king's health had not improved, although the doctors were confident that his condition – whatever it was – was stable for the moment. That left the lion's share of running a kingdom to a very reluctant Emma, who was at this exact moment being bored to tears by a report on loam, of all things.

"...and so the above-average rainfall for this part of the kingdom, Your Highness, has made it necessary that we seek your learned council in this urgent matter, for which we have traveled a great distance, and..."

Gods above, it seemed that the man had been stuck on one sentence for an eternity.

In which case, he probably wouldn't notice if Emma stared out of the window. In quiet, solemn complication of his appeal, of course.

It had nothing to do with the fact that her beautiful wife was at that moment taking an afternoon walk with Snow in the garden, and that this particular window was perfectly situated for viewing said walk...and said wife's beautiful bosom.

Some poor bricklayer must have had a crush on a gardener or just an incredibly creative imagination, because despite the fact that Regina was carrying a light, lacy parasol to shade her from the sun, the exact angle of the window afforded a perfect view between the cover and its charge. She didn't know whether to be impressed or disturbed.

After all, she didn't want anyone else taking advantage of this particular piece of castle intelligence.

"Gentleman." Emma spoke authoritatively. It was just about time to wrap this shindig up. "I have heard your words and you are correct. It is indeed a weighty matter, and I will give it much consideration. You will have your answer tomorrow, and tonight please avail yourself of the hospitality of my castle."

The fat, balding village councilman looked like all of his birthdays had come early. Emma cast another glance out of the window, internally chastising herself. She should throw the odious little man out on his ear, but it was too beautiful a day to spend inside arguing with him. First thing tomorrow morning, boom, he'd be gone. Tomorrow.

Snow's childish shrieks reached up on the breeze, followed by Regina's more subdued laughter, and Emma smiled. The things she did for...

No.

"I have other matters to attend to." She bit out, startling the men with her sudden change in attitude as she strode out of the hall.

Love was not an option.

Never an option, despite the fact that Emma's traitorous feet led her to the garden.

Despite the smile that brightened Regina's face the moment she laid eyes on Emma.

Love could not be based on a lie.

Despite what Emma felt.

Which is why no one was as surprised as Emma when she found herself asking if Regina wanted to go on a ride with her.

Certainly Snow wasn't surprised, judging by the annoyed little huff and impeccable eye roll. After all, she'd been having a perfectly nice time playing in the garden with her shiny new sister and her brother had to come ruin it with those dopey eyes. Sometimes it was cute, she'd admitted that much to her favorite stuffed animal Bunny. She'd even thought of some ways to get them to fall in True Love that involved daring swordfights and even dragons, but not if it was going to cut into her playtime.

Snow almost stamped her foot before remembering that big girls didn't do that.

Well, maybe just a little.

To prepare for a royal ride was not the matter of a few moments. It took the better part of an hour to arrange the proper honor guard, saddle the horses, and prepare an assortment of light foods should the royal couple wish a picnic. An unexpected ride meant delays in all sorts of non-vital castle functions and servants muttering darkly as they had to deviate from their usual schedules to accommodate the whims of their young Prince. The stable-boy was particularly miffed, for he had been interrupted in a game of cards with the ostler and served a knock on his head by the stable master for his laziness. He had been winning, too.

Of course, in the myriad function that had to be performed for this seemingly-simple request, the most important found Emma waiting rather impatiently outside the door to her wife's chambers. It could definitely be the years and years of masculine horse training – probably, probably was that – but for the life of her she couldn't understand how it could possible take that long to prepare for a simple, leisurely ride into the country! With two maids to help her, no less!

Ok, so she understood that a lady, a princess, couldn't be expected to jump in the saddle in whatever she had on, as Emma herself had been trained. Princes must be ready to ride at a moment's notice, while Princesses were expected to show as much skill and knowledge in the selection of a proper outfit as in the handling of the horse itself.

That still didn't explain why Regina had to rush to her rooms immediately after accepting Emma's invitation, letting her trail along like a lost puppy behind her, practically whining at the door waiting for Regina to appear! It was ridiculous, it was positively un-princely, it was...it was...

Regina appeared in the doorway and Emma felt the very curious sensation that her heart was trying to drop into her stomach and climb into her throat at the same time.

It was totally worth it.

They finally set out as the early afternnon sun had just past its zenith and was bearing down on them in full glory, choping up the road into hazy waves of heat and making the dust from the horses' hooves dance like gold. It was a charming picture, Emma astride a white charger, laughing at something Regina had said, while the dark-haired woman sat side-saddle on her dappled mare. The guards were ringed around them, some in the woods to the side and ahead, scouting for the barest hint of trouble, far enough away from the couple to give them at least the luxury of a private whisper.

In the lazy heat, however, trouble seemed far, far away. The road they took was well-known to all save Regina and well beaten, though they saw no other travelers. For those precious moments there was only the woods, and the sun, and the gentle swaying of the horses.

Emma threw her head back happily, letting the sun beat down on her upturned face. It was a welcome relief from the dark confines of the castle and she suddenly wondered if this was how flowers felt in the spring, barely waiting for the first melting of frost to burst forth, buzzing with energy and a...connectedness to life.

When she tried to voice this feeling to her wife, stumbling over her words and speaking too quickly, Regina's fond half-smile made her feel silly and awkward; 'you adorable idiot,' she seemed to say.

Emma blushed and wondered if she could blame the whole thing on the heat.

"Not that I don't enjoy a simple ride, my lord, but are we actually going anywhere or just riding in circles so you can avoid your duties?" Regina asked Emma, her voice teasing and too low for the guards to hear.

Emma pretended to scowl at her. "A good prince knows when certain matters require careful, considerate thought. And yes, I do have a destination in mind, but it's a surprise." And she smiled to soften the effect.

Regina raised an eyebrow at that but her smile didn't falter. She was certainly not going to complain about the Prince playing hooky for a day if it served to get her out of her mother's way. She had remained at the castle this time, obviously not trusting that Regina's dedication to power matched her own. If only she knew that in this Regina's passions followed her own, though certainly not for the same reason.

Regina turned away from the laughing eyes of her husband, wishing there was more of a breeze to cool her flushed cheeks and racing heart. She could not blame the excertion of the ride, she knew, not when she had been practically born to the saddle, jumping hedges with her father almost before she could walk. No, a sedate walk through the country could hardly set her blood coursing though her veins. All it took, it seemed, was the image of Emmett smiling at her, his eyes large and soft and the same green as the woods behind him. It was...disconcerting, and it had been happening more and more often, at odd quiet moments when the world seemed to drift away and leave the two of them suspended in time.

Did she know it for what it truly was? How could she, when she had never had any experience in true friendship much less the deeper passions of the heart? Just when she herself convinced that theirs would be an amicable marriage of the minds this...feeling...would wash over her again and leave her aching for more, for the closeness she had tasted in their wedding kiss.

Of course, she was fairly certain that her advances would be rejected even if she had any idea how to make such advances.

So she did the only reasonable thing a woman in her position could do.

She resolved to ignore the problem and hope it would go away.

Thankfully for Regina's mental state – ignoring something is harder than it sounds when you have to constantly remind yourself to ignore the thing, which involves thinking about it, which starts the vicious loop all over again – they soon reached their destination.

Regina gasped, all other thoughts flying from her mind as she took in the incredibly beautiful scene around her. They were in a clearing that seemed like it had sprung from nothing in the middle of the forest; it was positively idyllic! A thick carpet of flowers painted the ground in yellows and reds and blues, swaying gently and filling the air with an intoxicating perfume. The musical tinkling of water sounded somewhere in the background.

"It's beautiful!" She turned to Emma, her face alight with childlike wonder. "How did you find this place?"

"Well, not find, exactly..." Emma grinned. "More like, made."

"You made this?"

"Sure, me and a couple dozen gardeners." Emma brought her horse alongside Regina's, so close that their legs touched and Regina was almost exasperated at the emotions that welled up inside her from that simple gesture. "I planted that tree over there."

Regina followed Emma's gaze and almost laughed in her face. The indicated tree was completely at odds with the rest of the scene before her; set upon a small hill, it was stunted and gnarled, with branches sticking out at odd angles on the windward side as if it were constantly bending to a wild storm.

She almost laughed, but she didn't.

The blonde looked so damned proud.

And she could see it so clearly, a ruddy-faced little blonde boy carefully planting the seed that would grow up to be this incredibly ugly tree, nurturing it, loving it.

And those feelings were there again, the same only different and instead of the deep pulling in her stomach it she was being filled with them, paralyzed by them, they were overflowing and threatening to squeeze tears from her eyes, to spill from her lips, her heart was pounding and she could hear rushing...rushing...

She became aware of a hand on her arm, a concerned gaze. "Regina?" A soft, soothing voice, the kind one would use with a scared colt.

The feeling was gone, then, but Regina could sense herself profoundly changed. She wondered, detached, how it was that something so insignificant could rend her heart so terribly. Like a snow-covered branch in the winter, she had born up under a myriad of small moments, tiny shifts of feeling, until the final moment came and it was too much and she has been broken.

"I'm fine." She smiles at Emmett. If the blonde doubted her words, she did not show it, and Regina is not sure whether she is relieved or disappointed that her husband does not press the issue. With an effort, she settles on relief. It is simpler.

"Let's get you out of the sun." Concerned, Emma dismounted her horse, handing the reigns to a servant and helping Regina down as well. Her time waiting at the palace had not all been wasted, as a few men were busily setting up a light picnic under the tree. Emma was, privately, quite proud of herself for the idea. She took Regina's arm and led her to the ground, throwing herself down in a gangly heap of limbs beside her.

"You princes are all alike. Get your servants to prepare a romantic picnic and you think you'll have women falling at your feet." Immediately Regina wished she could take the comment back. She'd meant to be teasing, to lighten the mood a bit, but the words hit a little too close to home and fell flat.

Emma looked at her oddly, eyes searching for hidden meanings behind the comment, but Regina held her gaze. Oh well. She might – might – have a little crush on the brunette and it was causing her to look for things that she should know couldn't exist. Calm down. Smile. Say something charming.

"Well..." She gestured to their positions, Regina sitting primly near her sprawling legs. "I don't want to brag, but..."

"But you're going to?"

Emma smiled a crooked smile and Regina melted.

"But I did end up with the prettiest wife in the kingdom."

Abort! Abort! Emma's internal voice screamed, with sirens and flashing red lights. Whatever happened to just being friends?

Recover, Em. "And the best friend anyone could ask for." She took Regina's hand and squeezed it for emphasis.

Friends. Of course. But it was something, at least, and something far more intimate than she had ever known.

"Best friends, huh? I don't know if I can be 'best' friends with someone who loses three games in a row trying to figure out castling."

"Hey! I almost won that last game."

"I had you in five moves."

Emma pouted. "I'm pretty sure there's a law somewhere that you have to let the crown prince win."

"Oh Em," Regina stared deeply into Emma's eyes. "Don't you know the secret to a happy marriage? Your wife always wins."

Emma blinked at her, momentarily shocked. Then she closed her eyes, started to shake, and threw her head back with laughter.

Captain Phoebus smiled to himself and shook his head slightly, eyes automatically scanning the forest behind the royal couple. Young lovers were just so oblivious to the world around them, but he figured they deserved it. His own courtship hadn't been nearly as effortless as theirs, but he bore them no ill will. It had been a long time since the castle staff had seen this kind of loving happiness. It seemed like nature had created this day just for them. There breeze wafted gently through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and flowers, the birds were singing...

He cocked his head.

Very uniform, very out-of-season birds.

Never letting his smile drop, the Captain took a water-skin from one of the servants and approached the couple, bending close to the Prince to refill his glass.

"Your Majesty." He whispered, with the barest movement of his lips. "We must leave immediately. We are being watched."

Emma resisted the urge to cut her eyes to the woods, knowing from long tutelage that she must not give away the only advantage they might get against the invisible threat.

"Circle the horses around. Use them for shields if necessary. Tell the men tight circles, servants in the middle near us. I want the scouts within eyesight at all time. It's too easy to pick them off in the woods like this."

"As you say."

Phoebus straightened, backing away from Emma and Regina as if nothing was wrong, whistling a jaunty tune that had the guards shifting in their saddles and bushing their fingertips along their sword hilts.

Regina looked at Emma questioningly. Emma smiled and brushed her lips against the brunette's ear, pretending to be whispering sweet nothings to her.

"Someone's in the woods. Bandits, maybe. Act like nothing's wrong."

Regina blushed – it wasn't hard, with Emma's breath warm against her neck and her lips so soft on her skin – and laughed softly. Emma knelt over her and acted like she was taking Regina in a passionate embrace, effectively shielding from any danger with her body. Every muscle in the blonde's body was tensed, and she forced herself to relax in parts, remembering the training that would save her life. Relaxed, but ready. Steady your breath. Don't panic.

She extended her senses outward, straining to detect the slightest hint of unnatural movement that would give her the necessary split-second warning. Where normally she would be flushed and nervous, her heart pounding with the nearness of her beautiful wife, she hardly noticed the press of skin. All of her focus now was on the subtle currents of air around her, the smells of the forest, the odd quiet tension that surrounded them.

For all her awareness, she almost missed the change when it came. A pricking at the back of her neck, the barest turn, a burning pain, and she looked down to see the point of an arrow protruding from her shoulder.

After the initial strike it didn't hurt, and a detached part of her brain wondered at that as the woods came alive with bodies. Phoebus had managed to muster a circle of defense around them and was calling out orders in a sharp barking tone, improvising a shield wall to protect them from the archers.

It was a cacophonous din inside the small clearing. Bodies clashed with armor and blade, men roared with victory or defeat. In such close quarters steel flashed like lightning and Emma added to it as best she could, keeping Regina and the tree at her back, slipping her sword through the ranks of men as quickly as the bite of a serpent, and as deadly. Luckily the arrow had not pierced her sword arm, although she could not have held a shield even if she had one.

As suddenly as the attack began it broke off. First one bandit broke off, then another, then in small groups they melted back into the trees, some pursued by guards or dropped in flight by an arrow in their back.

Phoebus swept the clearing, making a quick count of dead and wounded. Five bandits dead, two guardsman, and a wounded bandit who he flung bodily in the direction of a guard with gruff instructions that he be patched up enough so he could talk before his execution. With the area secure, the life of the now-unconscious Prince was of utmost concern.

Regina was cradling Emmett's head, a few tears wetting her face. She had seen death before, as well as her share of injuries, and knew that though the Prince's face was ashen it was a good sign that his breathing was strong and deep and there was little bleeding as yet from the wound. "Can he be moved?" She asked the Captain, her voice full of the effort it took to keep the tone even.

"He'll have to be, Milady. It's not safe here. There's a farmhouse a little ways off; we can set up a position there, and send for healers and reinforcements."

Regina nodded her understanding, mounting her horse as if in a daze. Even the reigns she held limply, and allowed her horse to simply follow the others to their destination. She felt curiously detached from it all, as if it were happening to another person, or in a dream. She had been reluctant to give up physical contact with Emmett, but knew that it was necessary; she could not support his weight. Instead, he was tied onto Phoebus's horse, his arms and waist lashed to the Captain so that he would not be moved any more than necessary. They had left the arrow in his shoulder to prevent blood loss, but even so Regina could see a growing red stain on his coat, and she prayed to whatever God might be listening that they did not have far to go, that the journey would not be too much. Soon, however, she gave up praying, and simply...hoped.

She did not remember much of that time between the ambushed field and the farmhouse. There was a kind faced man who lived there...a healer...he would take them in...he would let them rest. She remembered catching Emmett as they dismounted him, accidentally pressing up against his shoulder and hearing him moan with pain even as he remained unconscious. The sound made her sick. But then...the man gave her some water, and led her into a room with a large bed, and a chair. That was were they set down Emmett. And she waited in that chair, determined to be there when he awoke.

She wasn't, of course. The stress of the day caught up to her soon enough, now that they were warm and safe, and she drifted into a bone-tired sleep, not even moving when a guard came to carry her to another room and bed.

Emma awoke with a groan, the world slowly coming into stark focus that mainly involved the throbbing pain in her shoulder. It came back to her, then, the attack, and she shot up in bed far too quickly. Gentle hands pushed her down again.

Panic surged through her as she realized she was naked from the waist up, with only her old chest binding and the fresher bandage on her shoulder covering her. She couldn't shout, couldn't breathe, couldn't risk a movement. There was pain beyond measure, and fear, and she felt darkness closing in around her, fought it.

"Relax, Your Highness." It was the voice that belonged to the gentle hands. She'd forgotten for a moment that there was anyone else in the room. The face was gentle, too, a middle-aged man with brown hair and eyes and soft features. He wore the insignia of a healer.

He knew her secret, he must know, though he betrayed no surprise at her true form. Emma growled, softly. He was a liability, no matter how gentle. He would have to be dealt with.

He simply smiled at her. "Don't worry, Princess...or should I say, Prince Emma? Yes, I know who you are. I've always known."

Emma's mouth dropped open.

"I'm afraid it's a rather long story, and you're in no condition to hear it right now. My name is Julius. I mean you no harm. I will keep your secret as I have these many years. You see, I helped bring you into this world." He stopped, considering her reaction. "It would be a pretty poor job if I had a hand in taking you out of it."

Emma's mind raced as she thought about what this might mean. Of course, she'd never really considered it before, never had cause to, but of course there must have been someone who assisted with her mother's birth. Someone who saw the baby Emma, who pronounced her as female before her father spirited her away and began this grand illusion.

Her attention was called away by a commotion on the other side of the door. She heard raised voices, her wife's calm but increasingly frayed insistance that she be let in to see her husband, and the guards worried repetition of his orders that no one should disturb the Prince.

The healer glanced at Emma worriedly. "Does she know?"

Emma mutely shook her head.

"Oh, dear." His eyes carried understanding but a hint of judgment, carefully hidden. "That must be...difficult."

"You have no idea." Emma commented flatley. "Look, I can't...I can't deal with this right now. Please." She gestured to the door.

"Of course, Your Majesty." He gestured for Emma to lie flat, which she did, covering herself with blankets. When he was satisfied nothing could be seen he opened the door a crack.

"I demand to see my husband." Regina stated, as imperiously as she could manage.

"Princess, please. The Prince has awakened, but only for a moment, and he is resting now. He must not be disturbed."

"I won't disturb him. I simply want to see him."

"It's not a sight fit for ladies. His wound..."

"Healer." Regina clasped a hand on the door and looked at him imploringly. "Have you ever been married? I...care about my husband very much. Whatever he's going through, I want to be there with him. I will not faint at the sight of blood like a girl. Please."

The healer sighed. Oh what a tangled web we weave... "I am sorry, Princess. I must insist." He firmly removed her hand and shut the door, thoughtfully locking it.

"Thank you." Emma breathed, relieved.

The healer ignored the thanks, speaking rather abruptly. "I did not lie, Your Majesty. You must rest. There's water to your right and a guard posted in the hall with strict orders should you need anything in the night. I'll return in the morning to change your bandages."

His tone made Emma feel somewhat like a scolded child, and the royal part of her chafed at the insinuation that she was mistreating Regina. She had been doing the best she could, damn it. She hadn't asked for the marriage, hadn't wanted it, but now that it was done she had a responsibility, didn't she? To try to protect the brunette, to give her all that she could while guarding her secret. After all, it was hardly the worst thing in the world to be a princess in a royal court.

However, these thoughts did not assuage her guilt, and she fell asleep with a heavy heart.

The deep, deep darkness of the early morning hours crowded through the house. In that dead time nothing stirred, as night animals retired to their haunts and day animals had yet to awaken. Almost nothing stirred...save the gentle swish of fabric, the light step-step-pause broken gait of a person trying to remain undetected.

Regina pulled the hood of the cloak tighter around her face, willed her muscles into the alien movements of stealth. Reinforcements had not arrived before nightfall, and of necessity the guards that remained with them were spread at watch posts along the perimeter of the house. No one suspected that one of the royal party would be sneaking out at night, after all.

The guard was still posted outside of Emmett's room, sleepily thumbing through a pack of cards. But Regina knew that guards trusted with the Princes' life would not be so stupid as to fall asleep on the watch. She had come up with something cleverer.

Gently she eased into position, lifting her skirts and walking on the outsides of her feet to avoid detection. It would only be a moment before the trap she'd set...

A loud clattering could be heard in the hall, perhaps fifteen yards away in the darkness on the opposite side from where Regina crept. The guard hesitated, and for a moment she worried that he would not leave his post. Normally there would be two guards on duty for just such an occurrence, so that one could investigate while the door remained covered. He glanced back at the door, at her hiding spot – thankfully staring right through her – and then into the darkness, finally taking a few steps in the direction of the sound, then a few more. When the opportunity came, Regina was through the door in an instant.

There was only moonlight in the room, and Regina didn't light a candle, mindful of the healer's orders that Emmett not be disturbed. It was just ridiculous that she shouldn't be able to see him, to touch him, to care for his wounds. To even see him now, sleeping and breathing evenly, was such a relief she almost sagged under the weight of it. Nor could she control herself from reaching out to push the hair from his face, running her fingers through the soft blonde strands. She had to convince herself that it was real. That he was alive. A sudden wildness gripped her and she eased back the covers, needing to see mark that had almost taken her husband away from her. The bandages covered the shoulder, but she couldn't stop looking, couldn't help but see...

Regina gasped, trying to cut the sound off so that it came out more as a strained gurgle. But it was enough. Enough to wake Emma, who yelled and reflexively pulled up the covers. Enough to summon the guard in with his candle, which he left in his panic when the Prince and Princess both yelled for him to "GET OUT!"

In the soft moonlight, perhaps she could have been imagining things, but the cold hard light of the candle refused to give her that comfort. Regina's mind groped for an explanation beyond the obvious. A body double, or a disfigurement. But the look on Emmett's face, the absolute guilt, told the whole story.

"A woman?" she breathed.

"Regina, please, I can explain..."

He...she...doesn't even bother denying it. Regina thought hysterically. A woman. It was too much, far too much, and Regina was seized with the need to get as far away as she could from this room, from this imposter she had thought was her husband, her friend, whom she had almost lo-

She was through the door and gone before Emma could move. Stunned and still half-asleep, she had no idea what to do. Go after her? Impossible, in her state. She didn't have the strength, would probably make things worse, but waiting seemed intolerable. There could be only one result, whether Regina chose to run or not. At daybreak she might still have a wife, but she would be completely alone.

"Majesty? The guard came to me." The healer entered the room and guessed immediately what had happened. When the guard had told him that the princess was in Emma's room he had had his suspicions, and now they were confirmed by the shell-shocked expression on Emma's face. He put a hand on the blonde's uninjured shoulder. "Let her calm down, then speak to her. She may forgive you."

Emma gulped, finding it hard to breath around the knot in her chest. "I am responsible for taking away the life she might have had. Love, children. Happiness. Could you ever forgive someone for that?"

Julius was silent. Then, "I've found that people almost always forgive the ones they love, whether we deserve it or not."