Regina woke up with a start, her body covered in sweat, her breathing uneven. She put a shaky hand to her chest, where she could feel her heart beating a tattoo on her ribcage. It was the same after every nightmare, and it was always the same nightmare.
The chamber is cold; further increasing Regina's sense of dread. Her mother is before her, making Regina cower at her tone. It is not shouting; it's much worse. It is calm. Her voice is always calm, but there is the threat that is woven through every word, every intonation. She can't take it anymore. With that very thought, the door opens.
A figure stands in the doorway, but Regina can't make them out. Glancing around, Regina sees that her mother has vanished. Hardly daring to believe it, Regina nearly trips as she hastens toward the door, to her freedom.
The archway smells nearly sweet, and floral, yet not overwhelmingly so, and it carries a hint of something that makes the corner of Regina's mouth turn up in an almost-smile.
The stables.
Then the scent vanishes, as does the floor and Regina is falling. It feels like she is falling forever. She can hear her mother's cackle as the ground gets nearer and nearer, until she hits the floor below her.
She shatters into a million pieces, and yet can still hear her mother's approaching footsteps. She stands over Regina, regarding her as she always does. Like she is the mother of a great failure.
"Tut tut, Regina. You just have to be more careful."
Cora rolls her wrist, putting Regina back together, and leads her, arm first, with a vice-like grip toward the full length mirror in the centre of the room.
"Look, Regina. Now you're perfect."
But all Regina sees is Cora, alone before the mirror, her aging hands holding on to empty air. She faces her mother, confused. Cora's smile stretches even wider, her eyes bright with malice.
"Mother, I-" she stammers, afraid to speak. "- I don't understand. What does this mean?"
Cora frowns at her. Disappointment has replaced the malice in her eyes, and she shoves Regina away from her, pushing her into a black box. Regina beats her hand against the glass that faces her, as the walls close in, realizing with terror that it is a coffin. She opens her mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. Her eyes fill with tears.
She begs Cora with her eyes. Cora's fingertips mirror Regina's on the other side of her glass cage. Her lips form vicious words as she leans in, her breath misting up the glass.
"Welcome to your life."
Regina shook her head, trying in vain to shake the shivers evoked by the nightmare that flickered along her spine. Despite the warm night, the sweat on her skin had cooled. She walked around, the crackling of thunder like a soothing lullaby to her panicked mind. Hearing footsteps, she turned around.
A woman stood before her. She was vaguely familiar, with blonde hair, fair, lightly freckled skin and green eyes. Regina couldn't help but be drawn into them; they held the same light that her father's had; that of kindness and hope.
The woman walked toward her, almost sauntering over. She wasn't at all what Regina was accustomed to, dressed in tight trousers that cut tightly to her slim frame, with what looked like a leather riding coat, the likes of which Regina had never seen before. This woman was quietly confident, and despite her appearance, had an aura of knowledge far beyond her years.
"Regina, I know what you're going through." Her voice was low, but not threatening. It was oddly soothing, almost reassuring in nature, the kind of voice that Regina hadn't heard in a long time.
The straps cut into her arms as she was lifted from the ground, cutting into her the more she struggled. Wincing, she threw a frightened glance down at her mother, whose upper lip curled sadistically. The edges of her vision began to blacken. But she could see those green eyes on the darkness' periphery.
Her mouth fell open, and she felt very exposed all of a sudden. This woman had been there, Regina thought. Does she want to help me? Or, said a little voice in her head, can't you remember why she seems so familiar? She's one of your mother's maids.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly. She knew that she had been more than just a maid; she just couldn't shake that feeling of familiarity. Hadn't she seen her around the palace as a child? Was her father part of the Palace Guard Force? Did she work in the stables?
The woman's eyes flicked down to her feet.
"A friend."
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