The people of Storybrooke loved Christmas. They had done for all 29 years they'd been trapped by the Evil Queen. With each December that arrived, Regina Mills wondered if it was some sort of 'pay as you go' penance for all the harm she'd wrought – once per year, for 25 days, the balance in the town shifted. For those days only, it was her victims who reveled in their happiness, and she who found herself back in that familiar place, outside looking in. Regina hated Christmas.

Peace on earth, goodwill towards men? Holly jolly anything? A cup of cheer? The words were about as comfortable to her as a mattress stuffed with pinecones. She'd avoided all the fa la la-ing fairly successfully for the first 20 or so years of the curse – all she'd had to endure were the garlands wrapped around the columns of City Hall topped by garish red bows. She did not permit displays of poinsettias in her office. At the end of her work days, she could retreat to her beautiful stark home, happily free of all evergreens.

It wasn't until Henry had come into her life, and had been old enough to have thoughts on anything, that she'd been forced to make some concessions. The very instant the child was old enough to have a clear opinion, he'd embraced the holiday season with, well, child-like wonder. The concessions were nothing extreme - Regina couldn't bring herself to allow her most hated time of year entry in her home – but she'd ventured out into it with Henry. Each year, they'd get in her car, and drive through the neighborhoods of Storybrooke – he, admiring the beautiful light displays (beautiful was his word, not Regina's); she, staring determinedly straight ahead, a fake smile frozen on her face, attempting to make appropriate noises. And she'd gone to his Christmas pageants, hadn't she? She hadn't missed a single one from the time he was five years old. Every year, the same horrible songs and reprehensible messages of faith and joy. It nauseated her, but she bore it stoically, until that instant where Henry delivered his two lines, or sang a wobbly solo. In those moments, she'd almost thought she felt something akin to a brush of the holiday spirit – but then Henry's moment would end, the feeling would wither and die, and she would walk straight out of the auditorium.

And now, in the end, what had all that been for? Nothing. Like every kind thing she'd ever tried to do, it was a worthless gesture that served only to shame her for having made it at all. Henry had left her when the curse had been broken. He hadn't been able to leave fast enough. Now he was off, wrapped in the doubtlessly silver and golden glow of love of the Queen and King of Christmastime, Mr. and Mrs. Charming, and their little sprig of mistletoe, Emma Swan. It would hurt if she let it, but she didn't. She pushed it away, and focused on the fact that at least this year, she wouldn't have to go to that damned pageant on Christmas day – tomorrow. The season was very nearly behind her…

But when there was a loud knock at her front door, Regina knew her misery wasn't quite over yet. Although her insides hissed against the thought of an intrusion, it was not in her nature to back away from a challenge. And a knock on her front door was certainly a challenge.

She painted on a smile, and strode to the door, pulling it open to see Emma Swan standing on her landing, staring back at her with that same slightly stunned expression she always had when they met this way – as though she was caught off guard by the fact that Regina did, actually, answer her front door.

For a long moment, Regina just stood there, hand holding the door part way open. Emma was apparently disinclined to proceed with her purpose, leaving Regina to drive the conversation. Her features were locked in their semblance of a smile – haughty, false. "Ms. Swan. To what do I owe this interruption?"

The question seemed to jar Emma back into her typical challenging mode. "Interruption of what, exactly? Your son's with my parents, you're not the mayor anymore. Busy decking your halls with resentment?"

Regina's expression slipped to a scowl. "Do you want something, or are you just here to insult me?"

Emma sighed. "Look – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start out like that… Can I come in?"

Regina made a quick sound of disparagement at the idea. "I'd rather you didn't." She stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her. "What is it?"

Emma was looking at her intently, tight-lipped, brow furrowed. She hesitated a moment, but eventually seemed to find her words. "I… was wondering what you're doing for Christmas?"

Regina's head jerked back at the words. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. "What I'm doing? Why, plotting the overthrow of the world and tampering with dark arts, of course. I'm the Evil Queen, what else would I be doing?"

Somehow, Emma was not put off by the cynical response. She just seemed more determined. "Look, Snow and James are doing a Christmas supper before the pageant. I thought… maybe you'd like to come. I think Henry would like to see you – and he won't get much of a chance at the show."

Regina was caught off balance by this. She had no mechanisms to respond to a gesture like Emma had just made. She reverted instead to a default of suspicion and hostility. "He won't have any chance. I won't be at the pageant."

This seemed to surprise Emma a great deal. "You're not gonna go? But – why? I mean… it's not like you're on house arrest. Are you worried about how people will treat you? I'll be there – "

Regina rolled her eyes. "I couldn't care less about how those simple fools feel about my presence anywhere. I'm not going because I've suffered through that pitiful display for the last five years, and now there's no reason to. And as for your invitation to dinner – I'd sooner eat glass than dine with Snow and her imbecile of a husband."

For a long moment, the only response was Emma's eventual long and tired sigh. Finally, she elaborated. "I thought, maybe for Henry…"

"Henry doesn't want me there, Ms. Swan. You're fooling yourself if you think otherwise. You never believed I loved him, he never believed I loved him. Maybe you were both right. The mistake was mine. "

"That's not tr-" Emma attempted to interject.

"Goodnight, Ms. Swan." Regina finished, stepping back, eyes narrow and hard.

Emma just looked at her, sad, resigned. "Fine. Whatever." She turned around and walked down the steps. As she disappeared down the sidewalk into the night, she called back over her shoulder, "Merry Christmas, Regina."

Regina watched her go until she was entirely out of sight, then she turned to open her door and return to the sanctity of her home… But she jerked her hand back quickly when her door knob, which had been such a simple round object a moment ago, squirmed against her hand. She stared down at it, and the cruel face of a dragon stared back, writhing against the confines of the bolts affixing it to the door. Its jaws cracked open like it was about to emit a mighty roar, but all that came out was a low, unearthly, anguished moan. The wretched sound made Regina squeeze her eyes tightly closed until it finally faded. When it was again totally silent on her front landing, she hesitantly opened her eyes – and all that she saw was the same doorknob that had been there for 29 years. She shook her head, carefully grabbed the knob, and let herself back inside.

She breathed a sigh of relief once inside the quiet of her home, trying to dismiss from her memory that strange hallucination. It was almost working, until she noticed the tendrils of smoke drifting out from beneath the closed door of her office. Although every fiber of her being screamed to run upstairs, crawl into bed, and call the whole thing some Swan induced waking nightmare, her body moved forward of its volition, and pushed upon the door.

The room was cloudy with smoke. It was almost impossible to see, but she stumbled forward relying just on her knowledge of the room's layout, gasping against the acrid air. Finally, she dropped to her knees, and with that, the smoke simply cleared away. When she looked up from her coughing jag, she was crouched in front of one of the room's plush chairs. In that chair sat her old friend Maleficent.

Or some version of Maleficent, anyhow. One that was hazy silver-grey, that looked haunted beyond reckoning, and that was wrapped and wrapped and wrapped again in curling branches of cruel looking thorns

"Well hello, old friend." The apparition spoke, her smile not reaching her dead eyes. "Well met. It has been a fair while. Not since long before the Savior slew me with her father's sword."

Regina simply stared at her. "Maleficent?" She finally choked out, still recovering from the smoke that otherwise seemed to have left no trace.

"One and the same, dear… more or less." She leaned forward, wincing as a thorn pierced her flesh, but empty eyes unchanging as she gazed at Regina.

"You're… dead, though. You're dead. The dead can't be brought back, that's the first rule."

Maleficent laughed silently, pin-pricks of blood appearing on her shapeless clothes as the movement of laughter pressed her ribs against the thorns. "That is true enough. And I have not been brought back… I am merely here for a visit."

"A visit?" Regina answered slowly, almost past words at this point.

Maleficent nodded solemnly. "A visit. Do you see these thorns? Wrapped around me? Holding me prisoner? These are the chains of my own making, Regina. I wrought them in life, and I wear them in death." She leaned back, and gasped as another thorn pricked her. "There are chains waiting for you, too, my dear… Chains of iron hearts, to drag you down for eternity. Daniel's heart will hang heavy on your mother's chains… Perhaps Henry's little heart will hang on yours."

Regina could only stare terrified at the ghastly spectre in front of her. She was frozen, unable to move, unable to speak.

"The chains are heavy, and they are hard to carry, Regina. So hear me when I say this. Three spirits will visit you tonight. Heed them, and heed them well. Do not be afraid of what they have to show you. They are your last chance to be free…"

"But –" Regina finally managed to get out.

"No. No more. I have said all I have come to say." At that, Maleficent closed her eyes, and almost instantly, a strange shimmer surrounded her. When it cleared, the vision had transformed into a small dragon, wings tattered and torn from the unforgiving thorns. Painfully, it plunged from the chair and dropped into a harried sort of flight, headed straight for the walls. Regina bit back a gasp at the moment the creature would have crashed against them, but instead, it simply flew through them as if they weren't there.

The spell broken, Regina hurried to the nearest window – but outside, she saw nothing. It was as if whatever she had seen had simply disappeared. Shaking and disoriented, Regina hastily exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her as if it could banish Malificent's terrible ghost, and with that, walked hurriedly up the stairs to her room.