AN: I know I have other works in progress, but this idea was gnawing at me. So, here's chapter one. Let me know your thoughts! I always love hearing them!

A pinprick. That was all it would take. The needlepoint, sharp and painless, would slip Snow White's prized pony into a deep and never ending sleep.

But as Regina pulled the pin from it's hidden place in her gown, the stable door opened loudly. Startled, she teetered backwards onto a pile of hay, the needle just barely piercing her palm before dropping out of grasp. And as voices grew louder and nearer, Regina's vision darkened as she fell into a soundless sleep.

They found her in the stables. No one could say why she was there, only that she would not wake. Doctors and all manner of healers were called to examine her body, lifeless and cold. But she showed no signs of sickness, and her heart still beat soft and slow and rhythmic - as if she had merely fallen asleep.

When it was declared that nothing more could be done, she was taken to her chambers and lain in bed.

Snow rushed in as soon as the nursemaids and guards thinned out enough for her to push her way to the bedside. Seeing Regina, lovely but still, her chest barely rising, she let quietly brimming tears stream down her face.

How many years ago was it that she had watched her mother deteriorate and die in this same room?

She remembered how helpless she had been, how useless. And now, even though she could no longer fairly be called a child, nothing had changed. Regina would stay comatose forever, and Snow had no power to change it.

Leaning down, she rested her cheek against Regina's temple. Feeling the vein there pulse, she pulled back and gripped lightly at the queen's hand.

At the very least, she could stay by her side.

Behind her, more bodies shuffled out of the way as King Leopold moved to stand beside his daughter. Placing a broad hand on her back, he looked at her as a sad smile pulled at his face.

"Snow, go to your own room. There is nothing that can be done here."

Angling her body away from him, she felt his hand slide off her back.

"Would you have her be alone?"

His mouth opened as thoughts readied to take shape in the space between them, but Snow turned, hand still holding Regina's, and added;

"I won't leave her."

He closed his mouth, and the sadness already evident on his face grew. Wrinkles sunk in deeper and his shoulders fell - making him look smaller than he was. Then, his gaze shifted to Regina. An expression Snow did not recognize passed through his eyes before he nodded and looked back at his daughter.

"This grief will pass. Until then, stay as long as you need to."

With that, he turned and left, servants and guards filing out behind him.

Days then weeks passed, and still she stayed with Regina. Meals were taken in the queen's room, time was counted by the rotation of the ever present guards just outside the door, and Snow slowly became accustomed to the unabating and whispered voices drifting through the castle.

Perhaps she'd meant to run away.

Her mother was a sorceress, it must be the effects of some spell gone awry.

They say she was there to trade tricks with the Dark One.

For the most part, she learned to ignore them. The eagerness to see betrayal, witchcraft, or even evil in the woman Snow had only ever known as a hero twisted her despair with unwanted anger.

But not all of the rumors that carried to her caused such outrage. Some of what she heard stood out like puzzle pieces against misshapen gossip, pieces ready to be fit together and directed into action.

I heard she went to visit the witch Maleficent just before it happened.

The same thing happened to King Stefan's wife.

Briar Rose woke but only by use of the most powerful magics.

Names repeated, lent credence to Snow's own slow forming theories - ones that day by day assured her that she needn't be as helpless as she felt.

If this was truly the work of dark magic, if like Briar Rose, Regina had been targeted by the sorceress Maleficent, then there was a way to undo it, a way to lift the curse.

So, Snow White began listening more keenly to her staffs' whispered voices, slipping in questions to probe the depths of their knowledge and measure the weight of their speculations.

A word here or there to servants skittering through Regina's chambers - meant to ensure that the princess was comfortable, taken care of, and well - helped her build a reservoir of information.

Though any truths she could find were far outweighed by obvious fallacies, Snow encouraged her maids to share the local here-say on royal affairs. It was improper and below her station to give audience to the canards of the help, but that only made them more eager to pass on what they knew.

And with every story, every guess, the pieces Snow had collected began to pull together in a half finished picture - not showing everything, but enough that she knew what to do next.

So one night, she waited for the guards at Regina's door to change shifts. Then she slid into the stone corridor, taking swift and gentle steps until she was away from the high walls of the castle and nearing the stables.

As she entered, moonlight spilled inside, casting a pale glow over the the wooden stalls and the horses within.

Snow's breath caught in her throat as she pictured Regina here, alone, falling prey to some malcontent's darkness. The thought might have made anyone else hesitate, but Snow set her jaw and steadied her hands as she started to saddle a horse.

She would ride quickly, out beyond the limit of her father's lands, and then she would confront the witch Maleficent for what she had done.