DISCLAIMER:: don't own anything, because if i owned the evil queen/regina/lana parrilla it would be dangerous

A/N:: swan queen is my new obsession thanks to an extremely well written fic by Dashed. that fic has inspired this, my new baby.

SWAN QUEEN SWAN QUEEN SWAN QUEEN

She wasn't quite sure what she had gotten herself into here. Sure, now that the kid had tracked her down and inserted himself into her life, she couldn't exactly get back in her car and drive off into the sunset as if none of this had ever happened. She was involved now, whether that had been her intention or not.

It was like some crazy nightmare. A kid shows up on your doorstep claiming to be the child you gave up a decade prior, and if that isn't outrageous enough, he also claims fairytales are real, you're Snow White's long lost daughter and his adoptive mother is the Evil Queen. Yep, crazy nightmare.

But she'd felt something the second she'd crossed the city limits into Storybrooke. A sense of… belonging, of rightness. That feeling you get when you know you're in the right place at the right time. She'd originally pushed that feeling aside. That was until she'd met Regina, Henry's adoptive mother. There was something about the older brunette that stirred something inside her. A sense of fear, of recognition, of something deeper. And she'd seen quite the same response in Regina's gaze. Regina seemed to know her, though she could tell that the older woman couldn't recall from where, just as she had no clue where she knew her from either.

"You're positive this is all you own?" Mary Margaret looked between her and the minimal amount of boxes she'd strewn across the living room floor.

Emma shrugged. "What can I say? I like to live simply."

Mary Margaret smiled and nodded. "Do you need any help?"

Emma smiled and shook her head. "No, I think I can handle a few boxes. Thanks anyway."

"Can I at least make you some tea?"

Emma nodded as she headed up the stairs. "That would be wonderful. Thanks."

She set the box down in the spare bedroom, on the bed, and crossed to the window, staring out at the street below. Everyone walking by looked like normal humans, but she felt herself wondering if the little boy and girl prancing by were Hansel and Gretel. She turned away from the window, rubbing her temples. She could not let this kid's, her kid's, crazy theory be getting to her head. She was here to protect Henry from Regina, nothing more. She didn't really believe that everyone in this town was a fairytale character.

She turned back towards the door only to find her path blocked by one Regina Mills. The brunette was staring darkly at her, one of her boxes in her arms.

Emma reached out and grabbed the box from her arms, setting it next to the other one on the bed. "What can I do for you, Madame Mayor?"

Regina traced her fingers along the frame of the modest little guest bed that was now to be Emma's. "You could leave town."

Emma sighed. "We've discussed this already; I'm not leaving." Figuring that was it, she turned to the first box on the bed, the one Regina had brought up. She lifted the lid and pulled out the item on top, a small blanket, smiling to herself.

She heard someone clear their throat and turned to see that Storybrooke's mayor was still standing just inside her doorway. She was looking at the blanket in Emma's arms. She raised an eyebrow.

Emma set the small blanket on the bed and looked down at it affectionately. It was white with royal purple ribbons weaved all around the sides. A white silk patch with an word embroidered in the same color as the ribbons adorned the surface. She traced the four embroidered letters with the tip of her finger. "It was the only thing with me when I was found. That's how they knew what my name was." She let herself get lost in the memory for a few more seconds before she realized who was in the room with her, who she was talking to.

"I'm sorry, Madame Mayor, you wanted something?"

Regina looked between her and the blanket and back again. "Just stay away from Henry." Her words were meant to be malicious, but there was no threat behind them. She glanced one more time at the blanket and then left the room.

Emma stared after her, confused as to why a little baby blanket had such an effect on the cold hearted older woman.

"I saw our favorite person departing in a rush." Mary Margaret threw over her shoulder as the blonde descended the stairs. "What'd you say to her?"

Emma shrugged. "I didn't say anything. I was unpacking my boxes and I came across my baby blanket. She took one look at it and she…"

Mary Margaret glanced over her shoulder. "What?"

"She almost looked as if… but it's impossible… it was as if she recognized it." Emma couldn't suppress her confusion. "But that's impossible. How could she have seen it before? She's older than me, sure, but not by that much. It's not like she's the one who abandoned me on the side of the highway."

Mary Margaret set a steaming cup of tea before her. "All I know is that I've known Regina for a very long time and I've never seen her looked so… spooked before." She shrugged. "It's weird. I thought no one could intimidate Regina. Until you."

Emma sighed. "I'll go by and talk to her after I've unpacked." She took a sip of the tea and her mind wandered back to the distracted look on the mayor's face as she'd looked at the blanket. What had spooked Regina?

SWAN QUEEN SWAN QUEEN SWAN QUEEN

She stared up at the big white house and sighed. This would not be a pleasant experience. She didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know Regina would not be happy to see her; she never was, not since the first night when she'd brought Henry back from Boston. Regina had been welcoming then, almost inviting, until she'd mentioned the book. She'd seen the confusion and shock behind Regina's calm exterior and she'd known she'd hit on something. But what was it? Fear. No, that couldn't be it. What would a woman so practiced in the art of intimidation such as Regina Mills have to fear about a stupid children's book?

She approached the door, the gleaming gold numbers 108 staring at her, taunting her. She could still turn around. Maybe she could just wait until she ran into Regina in town, mention it then, in passing. That was definitely the safer option, but not necessarily the responsible one. And wasn't that what she was trying to prove? That she was a responsible, mature adult? Nothing like a teenager who makes a mistake that nearly ended her education and did end her relationship. But that same girl ten years ago had refused to hold the little squalling boy for more than a brief second before giving him over. It had been the mature adult thing to do. She was an eighteen year old, who'd barely scraped by with her high school diploma, about to be kicked out on the streets by a system that had never done her any favors. He deserved more than she had been ten years ago; she knew that then and she knew it now. So maybe she'd been more of an adult than she'd always thought. She had to be. Self-reliance and maturity went together like peanut butter and jelly.

"Are you going to stand on my porch all night or were you planning on knocking anytime soon?"

Startled nearly out of her skin, Emma turned to see Regina behind her, car keys in hand, holding a duo of grocery bags.

"I came by to…" She was surprised into silence when Regina deposited the bags in her arms so that she was free to unlock the door.

Emma followed her inside and back to the kitchen. She set the bags down on the counter and leaned against it. "Listen, Madame Mayor, I…"

"Came by to tell me you're leaving?" Regina dug in the first bag and pulled out milk and eggs, carrying them over to the fridge.

Emma frowned. "No."

Regina raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and went back to the bags, pulling out a loaf of bread. "Well then I don't really see why you're here, Miss Swan." She leveled Emma with a look. "What could you possibly have to say to me that I might be interested in hearing?"

"I wanted to say I'm sorry." Emma gave her a hard look right back and stormed out. "Have a nice day, Madame Mayor."

Regina stared after her, for the first time feeling just slightly guilty that she had been so harsh.