Inspired by the song "Still Here" by Digital Daggers. You may or may not want to listen to it while you read; it is up to you.
Warning: As I am more a poet than a writer, I tend to play fast and loose with the laws of grammar i.e. mostly punctuation.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and I am making absolutely no form of profit.
~430 word
It was a poetic justice. There's no doubting that.
Just as Regina found herself frequenting her family's mausoleum during the first months of the curse, so too did Snow White following its breaking. Regina paid for what her desire for happiness cost her, just as Snow did.
"Emma, please. Please, just come home. Staying here will only do more damage." She tried to reason with her, even if her reasoning continued to fall on deaf ears and hunted eyes.
It was as if Emma were somewhere else entirely, more often than not, and it continually broke her heart to bear witness to what was left of her daughter. It pained her to watch as David pried her away, day after day, kicking and screaming with ever dwindling strength – a reminder that her daughter wasn't eating, that she still refused anything but a few slices of apple on occasion.
The brutal truth of it all was that nothing Snow felt could ever compare to the heartache and devastation that her every action wrought on those around her. It was never Regina; no, Regina was never the evil one. It had always been her.
Oh, and what a tally she had, of those she marked for death.
Cold stone beneath her feet, behind her back, pressed against her heated cheek – the only place where Emma could find her way home. It was the only place that felt right, and untainted anymore.
It was a dream in mind but so vivid in heart, and it came upon her suddenly each time – a phantom warmth that coiled around her like arms in embracement. The warmth was love, passion, longing so hot that only the press of cool stone against her cheek could temper it… until they took her away.
They kept telling her that she needed to go with them, to go "home", but they never understood that she already was home. This was her home, where she belonged. She was at peace with the ones she loved, safely wrapped up in their phantom warmth.
But, like every time before, the warmth was forced from her, and faded away – much like waking from a dream – and try as she might, she just couldn't grasp the wispy tendril left behind. The last bit of her happiness was all but obliterated as her eyes went dark… and she faded away.
And so she wore a branding on her heart:
Snow White, Love's Killer.
And the number seven, scripted into the cracks, thrumming the rhythm of seven names:
Daniel, Anita, Cora, Regina… Henry… Emma… David.