Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or TV shows. They belong to their rightful owners - ABC and George RR Martin respectively. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: This scene is set after the episode entitled "The Cricket Game".
Being the bad guy was something she was used to; but for once in her life, she had done nothing wrong. That was probably the price to pay for a whole life of evil-doing, she thought to herself bitterly. Resting an elbow on her kitchen counter and her forehead on her hand, she poured a glass of wine and sighed. She was alone. She had probably been alone all along, but it was the first time she had truly felt alone. As a powerful leader, she had long ago assumed that she would lose people on the way. Some would feel threatened. Others would betray her. Some would disagree. It was part of the game. Yet losing him was more than she could bear, like her deepest fear of all coming true. Inevitably, her thoughts landed on Henry. Henry… A burning lump that had nothing to do with the wine formed on her throat. She wasn't the kind to cry easily, but Regina could sense the tears forming somewhere in the depth of her eyes. Her hand shook as she tightened her grip around the stem of the glass, like it was her lifeboat. A bitter taste invaded her mouth when she tried to drown her sobs in the blood-red beverage.
She had lost him forever. Being called a liar by everyone else in town and having them think her guilty of killing Archie Hopper didn't hurt as much as the disappointed look in her adoptive son's eyes. Now that she had almost won his trust again, everything had been blown to ashes. He didn't believe her. And there was nothing she could do to prove her innocence.
Perhaps for a few minutes, perhaps for a lifetime, she stood by the counter. Her face muscles ached from the tension; anxiety pressed against her chest, smothering her. She already felt dizzy, but there was no way to tell whether it was because of the wine or the pain. The room seemed huge, endless. Those four walls suddenly appeared ten feet high. It felt like slowly falling into a pit. Casting her gaze around the prison her home had become, they came to rest on a small mirror hanging on the wall. Creeping red roses decorated the frame. She looked at her reflection distractedly, not wanting to pay much attention. She probably wouldn't like what she'd see.
Yet something forced her eyes to move back to the looking glass. It must have been the alcohol in her body – she didn't even know how much she had drunk anymore – but she would have sworn her reflection had flickered. She shook her head. But then it happened again, more intensively. A strange kind of fog covered the surface for a few seconds, then faded away…
… and then she saw her. Those emerald green eyes had the saddest look she had ever seen. Her blond hair was wavy and untidy, she looked forsaken and dirty; and still there was something proud in the woman she saw. Something majestic. Not even whatever misery she might be going through had managed to erase her greatness. She had never seen her before, but Regina could tell that she had once been powerful, maybe even feared. She felt so identified with her...
The image soon disappeared, bringing her back to her kitchen and her own confused frown. Only then did she notice the mixture of blood and wine in her fingers and the smashed glass.