As she stood in Gold's shop, finally being referred to (however sarcastically) by her proper title, Regina felt a thrill of excitement. She hadn't had a good adventure in twenty-eight years, and though she feared, and desperately wished that Emma Swan had just left town, that her son – her Henry – wasn't about to die, there was a part of her that was getting high from the adrenaline rush. However nice it had been to have finally won, to finally be able to claim victory over Snow White and her equally ridiculously named companions, she was glad to have a purpose again.

But everything changed when Gold pulled out that sword. "Your father's sword." He told the blonde woman. That's when everything seemed to come crashing down.

Price Charming's sword. How many times had it foiled her plans – cutting them down in their infancy? How many times had it invaded her dreams – turning them to biting nightmares? How many times had it been held at her throat – the harbinger of her death?

Now it sat there again, perfectly preserved in that velvet lined box. A reminder of the many times it had foiled her plans; a reminder of the many times it had invaded her dreams; a reminder of the many times it had been held to her throat.

Her executioner had returned.

How it mocked her! She could almost hear their laughter as the Savior picked it up, examining the still-sharp blade. Gold smirked up at her, a malicious grin – with eyes that spoke of future terrors. She had slept well for twenty-eight years, but it all ended today.

The blonde woman turned to her, the sword in her hand. There was something different about Emma now; an air of royalty perhaps. The determination in her eyes made Regina's stomach drop in fear. Though it looked heavy in her hands, like an unwanted burden Regina knew the truth. That woman could wield a sword.

It would seem Regina had forgotten the price of adventure.