When Regina comes for her, she has no designs on becoming a savior.
In fact, Regina has only traveled here in the hope of causing more torment for Rumplestiltskin, but the moment a courtier says the word 'tower', a little part of Regina cries out silently in empathy. She knows what that means, only too well.
(Later, she has the courtier hung by his thumbs. She doesn't care for the way he leers when he says tower, and that's reason enough.)
The Duke bows to her, even as Belle screams in the next room. "Your Majesty," he grovels, bending as low as his gut will allow.
It takes no more than a flick of her wrist to strike him down. He lands heavily on the dirty straw on the floor, the wet crack of a broken nose easing Regina's rage a little.
"But Your Majesty," he gasps from the floor, his voice thick with blood. "She's been corrupted by that Beast. I have to—"
"She is your daughter," Regina shouts at him, tensing her fingers and delivering another invisible blow. "Your only daughter."
"And as her father—" the fool protests, clutching at her skirt in an attempt to stand. She kicks out at him, this time the blow is purely physical.
"You should never have been cruel to her," Regina says, and she doesn't intend for it to sound so sad. "You should have protected her."
"I still can," he pleads. "I can stop this."
"You've had your chance," Regina spits, gathering up her dark skirts and marching towards the door of the tower cell. "Lock him up," she tosses back over her shoulder at the guards.
She pauses, her hand on the rough wood of the door. It takes more effort than she expected to tamp it down, that metallic taste of fear, those echoes in her head (mother, no. mother, please. mother, I'll be good.)
But she is a Queen now, not a terrified little girl. Regina blasts the door perhaps a little too hard and strides in through the smoke and splinters.
"Hello again, dear," she says, with what little kindness she still possesses. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"
Belle is a model guest.
Regina clears out the most comfortable room in the castle for her, and assigns a whole team of servants to tend her every need. Belle is not a prisoner, but even as her wounds heal and the color returns to her cheeks, she does not ask to leave.
It occurs to Regina after a while that the girl simply has nowhere else to go.
The burns take longest to heal, Regina's steward reports with a nervous twitch. The healer has tried everything but still the angry blisters persist. Hellfire, Regina concludes, dismissing the man and retreating to her library. Perhaps in the older spellbooks she can find a cure.
The ointment is crude in the end, and Regina does her best to mask the medicinal smell with lavender. Instead of passing it to a lackey, she knocks on Belle's door herself, the night sky already beginning to darken.
"I have something that will help you," she says, seeing Belle alone for the first time since bringing her to the castle. Despite the tightly wrapped bandages and the darkness in her eyes, the girl does appear to be almost healed.
"Your Majesty. Please, come in," Belle says, and her smile is as beautiful as it is unexpected. "I've been meaning to thank you anyway, for all this kindness."
"It's nothing," Regina dismisses, deflecting, reaching for the simple cotton dress that Belle is wearing. "If you take this off I can tend to your burns, dear."
"Oh, you don't have to do that," Belle says, flustered in an instant. "I'm sure you have more important things to do. I can manage."
"I wouldn't offer if I didn't have time," Regina says, snapping just slightly. She's no longer used to being patient, to letting other people actually participate in the conversation. "And trust me, you'll feel a lot better."
Somehow, long after the burns have faded to pale pink marks, Regina keeps coming to visit. She introduces Belle to her library (the girl is altogether too fond of books, and so the spellbooks are enchanted from her view). As winter approaches (and Regina hears word of Snow's pregnancy, reigniting her rage) dinners in Regina's private dining room become something of a routine.
That Belle hasn't seen much of the world doesn't hinder her skills as a conversationalist. Regina finds herself drawn into discussion of books she'd almost forgotten, telling tales of lands she visited for no reason other than collecting curses or potions, and finds herself eager to discuss more.
"You know," Belle says one night as she stokes the fire (Regina is proud that Belle doesn't flinch, not even when sparks fly). "I don't know why they call you 'evil' in the first place."
Regina freezes at the remark, unprepared for the intrusion of reality.
"Well, dear," she says after an uneasy silence. "Let's pray you never have reason to find out."
A simple kiss to the hand should not change things, and yet Regina is dismayed to find that it does.
"Do you remember what you told me?" Belle says, still holding Regina's hand after taking her lips away. "That true love's kiss can break any curse?"
"I did," Regina says softly. "But there is no curse cast over me."
"I think loneliness could be considered a curse," Belle says, kneeling before Regina's chair now. They're supposed to be saying goodnight, walking away to their separate bedrooms. Regina can feel the shift in the air, as though somewhere that damn fairy dust has been sprinkled. "I know my own feels like a curse, most nights."
"We have our friendship," Regina reminds her, leaning back as far as she can in her chair. "That is much more than either of us had before."
"Don't you want… more?" Belle asks, those blue eyes fixed on Regina's face. "Don't you feel like we could be more?"
"Oh, Belle," Regina sighs, enjoying the way the name trips off her tongue. "This is—"
But Belle doesn't want to hear another excuse, it seems, and when she kisses Regina's lips there's no question about it at all.
"Can you really see the whole kingdom from your mirrors?" Belle asks, her voice in Regina's ear disturbing her doze. They've been spending night after night in Regina's bed, and with their naked bodies wrapped around each other, Regina had felt herself drifting off to sleep.
Instead, she's opening her eyes, staring into Belle's bright and lively ones. Regina feels a pull sometimes just looking at her; a tug towards a state she barely remembers, a state of being good and of hating no one.
"If I choose," Regina says, stifling a yawn. "But I find I have plenty to look at here," she adds, pulling back the sheets and rolling on top of Belle.
"Only," Belle begins, biting her lips as she worries over her next words. "I wondered if we could check on someone. Just to know if he's alright."
Regina rolls back in an instant, her body rigid against the mattress. Oh, how she'd forgotten the sting of rejection, the sense of being punched in the gut by careless words.
"Regina?" Belle asks. "I only wanted to know if—"
"You're still in love with him?" Regina asks, tears of humiliation hot against her cheeks. "After what he did to you? After all I have done for you?" Her voice is a shriek now as she forces herself up to a sitting position.
"No," Belle assures her, reaching for Regina's hand but she pulls it away. "I just want to know that he's alright. And my father, too."
"What is wrong with you?" Regina spits. "These men who abuse you, who abuse your trust… you still care for them?"
"Of course I do," Belle says, pulling the sheets back up against the sudden chill. "That's what happens when you love someone."
"You're weak," Regina accuses. "You're pathetic. I would never have allowed you into my bed if I thought that all this time you were thinking of them."
"I wasn't!" Belle protests. "I care for you so deeply, Regina."
"Get out!" Regina hisses, slapping Belle's face. "Get out."
"No!" Belle is pleading already, seeing history repeat itself. The idiot should have learned from her mistakes. Regina reaches for her robe, slipping out of bed as easily as a shadow.
"Guards!" She calls. "Guards!"
They come running, in heavy black armor, faces obscured. Belle looks at them in dread, not stirring from beneath the black sheets.
"This ungrateful wretch tried to assault me, here in my bedchamber," Regina lies smoothly. The guards look between themselves in confusion, because Belle's presence in the Queen's bed these past weeks has been no secret. Fortunately, they know better than to disobey.
"Take her to the dungeons," Regina commands. "Find her some rags. I won't have her dying of pneumonia before I can punish her ingratitude."
"No!" Belle pleads as the guards come towards her. "Regina, please."
"You will address me as Your Majesty," Regina responds, her voice deathly cold. "Take her!"
"You're no better than he is!" Belle shrieks as they carry her out, fighting both the strong men who hold her. "All you care about is your power, about beating someone else."
"Shut up," Regina cries. "Shut up. You'll pay for this. You will be my prisoner now."
"I love you," Belle shouts as she's dragged down the corridor. "Please don't do this to me."
"It's too late," Regina calls out to the empty corridor. The cries echo back from the staircase, but she makes no move to follow. Pulling her robe tighter around her, Regina sits on the bed before her shaking legs can give out on her.
Enough with the distractions, she decides. It's time to get this curse working, once and for all.