It Sounds Like Something Breaking
By darcyvondayum
She brings the dagger down; the blade sinks deep into Rumplestiltskin's chest. He convulses slightly, but his eyes don't widen, his mouth doesn't open-he's much too far gone for that. He just frowns and draws his last, shuddering breath.
It takes him less than a second to die.
She wonders what that feels like to him, dying. He never seemed the type. She wonders if he feels the power seeping out of him. She wonders if it feels like falling.
She doesn't wonder for long, though, because she can feel the Dark One's power-a fire in her fingertips, quickly spreading. She pulls the dagger out of his chest, smeared with thick blood, and looks.
Cora, it reads, and she smiles. The fire is in her forearms now, it's more than she ever imagined-this was the power to decimate armies, to tear through worlds, to mold the future and change the past. The old imp must have feared it, if all he did was take children and make deals. He really was a coward to the end. The power was in much more capable hands; in hers, it would be used as it was meant to be used.
She looks back at him, pathetic, dead, and almost pities him.
She's about to go find her daughter, test out this new power, when she is stabbed in the back and she wonders if there is a buffer period-the power is only in her shoulders but the dagger says she is the Dark One-the dagger falls out of her hand and she lurches forward, whoever stabbed her has removed their weapon, she turns around, feeling lightheaded, ready to kill, and sees her daughter.
For the first time. Her daughter.
The fire in her shoulders dies away. She is shocked, but all she can think of is her daughter, Regina, looking so, so young, and so, so beautiful.
She smiles. There is a warmth in her chest, a feeling much more powerful than the fire, that she cannot control. Regina smiles-she looks absolutely radiant.
"Mother," she says, and Cora doesn't know what to do, so she laughs.
She takes two steps and embraces her daughter, holding her tightly, and whispers, "Regina."
She doesn't know what is happening but suspects she does, Regina has given her back her heart, the fire screams at her to be angry but the warmth soothes it. She knows this feeling is love, and she wonders why she would have ever given it up. For power, says the fire, but for once, she doesn't care.
"I'm sorry," Cora would have said, but just then Snow and Charming burst in, screaming something or another, and they stop. Regina turns to face them. She has tears in her eyes.
"Thank you," she says, reaching down and gripping Cora's hand tightly. "Thank you."
There is a funeral. Everyone shows up, but every eye is dry. They all come to pay respect, it seems, nothing more. There are no flowers and he does not look peaceful; he is frowning.
No one has anything to say as the casket sinks into the ground. Cora watches his son, but he is as silent as the rest.
As they leave the graveyard, the girl he called Belle pipes up and asks, "But what kind of a man was he?"
No one answers, because no one knows.
It takes less than a week for Snow, crying, to show up at their door. "I'm sorry," she keeps saying, over and over, and Cora can see that her daughter, though forgiven, is uncomfortable with this woman on their doorstep.
Cora invites her in, but she refuses, blubbering some more about how it's her fault and how she was sorry. Cora insists, touching her arm and guiding her into the house. At the touch, the fire (which has not advanced past her shoulders, not yet) sparks to life, reminding her that this woman was vulnerable, she was the daughter of the woman that ruined her life and she was the woman who ruined her daughter's life. The warmth reminds her, no, that was you, and she's helpless, crying, and sincere.
They take a seat at the table and Snow explains.
"I don't know what I was thinking," she says.
"Your heart is cursed," she says.
"You were supposed to die," she says.
And with each word, the warmth in her weakens and the fire begins to spread, snaking hot tendrils into her chest, shoulder blades, neck, until the sniffling idiot apologizes again and she can't take it anymore, she throws her arm out and Snow is pinned against the wall, her chair falling uselessly to the floor.
"You tried to kill me," she says, and the fire crushes the warmth to embers.
Snow cannot respond; Cora has her by the neck. She squeezes and Snow writhes, clutching for the invisible force as if she could simply tear it away.
Then Regina touches her and the fire weakens, and Cora turns to look at her daughter. She is beautiful and she is sad. "That's enough," she says. Snow's face is turning blue.
She lets Snow fall to the floor, gasping.
"Get out," Cora says, and Snow doesn't need a second prompting.
Henry stays over sometimes, and when he does, Cora swears she has never seen a better mother. The warmth is strongest then, when she sees her daugher and her grandson happy together.
But besides that it is failing, the fire has reached into her chest and touched her heart. She is often angry, and when she isn't she is afraid. She would have asked him about it, but he is dead.
(Because she killed him.)
(She remembered when she first took out her heart for him, how it softened everything so she could just let go and it wouldn't hurt. Perhaps she was a coward just like him; yes, love is weakness, but it is also truth, love draws blood, but love makes clarity; without her heart, she could do everything and feel nothing, with it, she could still do everything, but she could feel it, and it terrified her.)
(That was one of the things she noticed about the warmth, it not only grew when she was happy but it also grew when she wasn't. It grew when she thought of him at all, but especially when she thought of him saying her name sounded like something breaking, because even though he could see the future when he said it he didn't at all know the irony in it.)
(This was a different kind of love, she knew, combined with a different kind of regret.)
She has often considered taking out her heart and sticking with the original plan, but it's the warmth that reminds her of Regina, and it's the warmth that warns her of the devastation she might see there if that happened.
She keeps her distance and watches her daughter consign herself to shared love with Henry, knowing it won't be long until the pure heart darkens and it will be like she never had one once more.
A/N: So first fanfic, woooot! I hope you enjoyed it. Some bigger things will be happening soon, but I had this idea a few days ago and it was one of those that just sort of had to be. Anyway, yeah. Thanks for reading!