It so happens that I shipped OQ pretty normally until this idea took over my brain. Now I'm crazy.
This story takes place during Regina's mad revengeful journey.
Hope y'all give me a chance and let me know your opinion. Also, I'm beta-less so any mistake is on me.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine. I only had money to buy Lana and that pretty much broke me.
The mirror reflected one flawless image, delineated by porcelain skin and heavy curls of onyx hair. At nighttime her skin always seemed to turn paler, a singularity Regina had grown to despise. The color gave birth to thoughts of her, like everything did nowadays. Ironic that snow had covered the grounds of the forest earlier this year.
It must be winter in her heart too.
Still the woman on the glass looks almost angelic; stripped off of layers of black garments and washed out of maquillage, she doesn't look as mature as life has forced her to be, nor as disgraceful. Her sins remain sheltered beneath pristine flesh of exquisite features, giving away not a single fraction of her vile soul.
Someone so drenched with dark potential shouldn't appear so harmless, no; but Regina had learned from the hard, personal way that most of them often do.
She was reflecting about fallen masks and spoiled secrets when the fireplace cracked behind her, little bright sparkles screaming that the blazes were about to give up. It's almost on cue, she thinks, to be enwrapped by the shadows at this precise moment. There's still enough clarity left for her to pull her entire hair above one shoulder, carefully placing the hairbrush onto the dresser, as composed as she'd ever be. Decency would likely demand more dramatic reactions out of her, though if there's any scraps of honor left inside her at all, it's doubtful to be picked just now.
Soon the whisper of a light is gone but he's not. Her gaze goes instinctively south, eyes scanning the blackish space above her shoulders as if she'd see him.
They both know she won't, even if she had any desire to. The privilege of her pretty façade hands him the power over darkness, maybe, merely because it suits him better. She's compassionate that way.
"Well?" She inquires, one eyebrow quirked however unlikely it is to be seen. "Are you going to say something or just stand there all night?"
The hysterical giggle reaches her brain long before it does her ears. A buried part of her still cringes at it, wants nothing more than the haunting sound to go away. It wasn't long ago that she was hesitating to rip a Unicorn's heart, after all; no matter how blurry the lines had become with all the blood spilt ever since.
His comical accent cuts through memories of faceless bodies falling dead on the ground. "Oh, haven't you missed me, dearie?"
Reflexively, Regina almost turns to follow his voice, yet grips the edge of her seat instead. Her once flowing blood had started to clot with sickening rage already, derma itching at every transpiring spot regardless of her own resolve. Foolish petulance is what glues her to her spot, in any way. She'd never give him the satisfaction of admitting how further he got into her skin.
Determination can't extinguish the frustration out of her tone, nevertheless. "What do you want, Rumplestiltskin?" She snaps, eyelids shutting as if that could make him disappear.
Naturally, it only brings him closer.
Backlit by natural lights outside, his figure looms right behind her, chin almost leaning against her bare shoulder. The chill is irrepressible this time and she has half a mind to suspect that had been intended all along. She doesn't fear him anymore, perhaps; but she is disgusted by him.
His reflection on the mirror smiles at that - a somber grin that inflicts he's able to read her so easily like he does to the rest of the world. His next words feel like a petty revenge.
"I hear the Kingdom isn't welcoming you so warmly."
Her neck snaps towards him, closeness quickly forgotten as his remark cuts deep. She felt the muscles of her face flexing into a scold, a snarl of some kind waiting to leave her throat in a rather animalistic way. The rough tip of his nose was a hair-away from scratching hers now, locked gazes watching as each emotion reached surface and took hold of their bodies.
What Rumplestiltskin shows is amusement, however, his reaction a reflection she's quite resentful to see.
She spoke her mind through gritted teeth; the brown of her eyes almost liquid with the fierceness of her words. "They will love me."
"Oh, but they won't" his reply comes fast; that mockful tone of his so filled with cruel cleverness it's hard to distrust him. "They don't."
In a ridiculous show of wounded pride, Regina faces away again, chest lifting with way too much air.
She's halfway through an offensive comeback when his shadow stands straight once more, fingers gesturing around the air to emphasize a breaking point. "However" he retakes and it helps her to remember something.
Particularities aside, Rumplestiltskin isn't her: he wouldn't come all this way for the mere pleasure of bragging.
To mess with her head alone isn't his modus operandi, even if it's so easy to forget it. So it doesn't surprise her to be drowned in blinding anticipation over his next words, for it means he'll have a solution.
He can help her.
He can give her Snow.
And if it takes her to endure his presence, if it chains her yet again to another deal, it doesn't matter.
She will do what it takes.
She has to, even though she doesn't immediately comprehend the subtext of his resolution.
"That doesn't mean they can't love someone else."
His shriek of insane delight turns her voice harsher than intended, a tone improved day by day ever since she became a royal. "And what do you mean by that?" She raged, eyes wide although he was back in the shadows. "I'm their only Queen. They must be loyal to me."
"That's exactly what I mean, my dear. You. Are. Their. Queen" he recited back at her. "Don't you think there's something missing... By your side?"
She softly jumped with his breath on the back of her neck, nearness so out of a sudden it made her head buzz. But once she blinked his body was leaning against her dresser, an unreadable expression staring down at her.
When understanding finally dawned on her, it showed. The transition of her initial silence into an incredulous smile prepared Rumplestiltskin for what came next.
She laughed.
A travelling sound out of the back of her chest and throat and soul, it echoed freely around the quiet atmosphere of her chambers. The look on his face insisted that he meant it and that only made Regina beam larger. Then, nodding skeptically, the tease slipped her reddish pouting lips, "My beloved imp, are you offering me your hand?"
"Not me who shall marry thee." He sang as delusional as one could appear. No will inside her was enough to keep her smile in place. It died as quickly as it'd bloom. "Your Majesty" one gold-dusted finger points her "need a husband."
Her gut twisted violently at the word, riot against times she wanted one but couldn't have and had one, but didn't want. She smelled history repeating itself and fought every fiber in her being that felt like lighting up the Dark One.
Face edging closer to his, the whispery touch of her voice reminisced a snake. "You must be crazier than they say." She slurred, anger masquerading the uncertainty floating over her head. Demented fallacious man that he was, he was yet to fail in stuffing her head with questions while peppering her putrid heart with a tiny bit more of black ink.
"Crazier" he hummed, smiling fully at her now. "But am I wrong?"
When she's proved incapable of answering, the imp carries on, his pacing disturbing the quietude of the night. She finds herself staring forward like a motionless lamb watching the tip of an approaching arrow.
"There's a prisoner here at your castle-"
"There are hundreds of prisoners in my castle." Regina points, brought back from her idiotic absorption.
She's ignored. "A thief."
"This is what this is about? By all means, take the subject for all I care. My dungeons are too crowded anyway."
"I do want the thief myself!" He exclaimed, an excitement about his voice that couldn't quite be placed. Until. "But you shall want him more."
Both of her hands gripped the edge of her dresser until her knuckles turned white. "Now you're just wasting my time. Spit it out, beast."
"You are contenting yourself with their fear... When you could earn their doubt. When you could pick their attention to get their support."
"And you think marrying a common, filthy criminal is the way?" She bellowed, angrier because the game kept on going despite her objections. Heedless of her outbursts, name callings and higher tones didn't get to him. It likely never would.
"Not common, my dear." He said, once again displayed at the imager, their gazes sustained on end through the spotless glass. "Do we have a deal?"
"How can I trust this will work? How can I know this is not one of your tricks?"
One corner of his lips twitched into a naughty grin. "Well, if it doesn't... You can always kill him; can you not?"
She can smell the bluffs and it's all over; it just didn't mean the bait of ignorant captivation hadn't been bitten. This is the moment when she has to weigh the price and measure how far is she willing to go for it.
And it's too late now, she knows.
Revenge has eaten her whole flesh until the bones and now there's only the corpse and a response:
As far as it takes.
"What should I do in return?" She asks and he revels in victory before dismissing her with a hand.
"Oh, this and that. I need you to cut off all trade with King George's realm."
His cynic casualty doesn't keep the crease out of her brows. "King George? Why?"
For a moment his characteristic façade cracked apart, words running out of his mouth faster than the motion of his jaw. "I need him bankrupt, what do you care?" he spat.
Slowly, so very calm so she could watch, he lifted his hand until it cupped one side of her pristine face. It felt softer than expected, but wrong all the same. Just as fiercely stubborn as she had been before, Regina refused to inch away with all she was worth. Each journey of his tongue, teeth and lips could be heard as he broke it to her at last.
"A Queen like you... Must wed a Prince."
This turn it didn't take her so long to comprehend. "Robin Hood." She mumbled, almost as if her body had been holding the answer for far too long.
The name much infamous to forget, it wasn't alarming to have Rumplestiltskin mentioning it. The Prince of Thieves had made enemies as he had made a legion of followers and neither had taken his prison at her castle lightly. Lovers wanted him gone, rebellions thrown over his name. Adversaries claimed his death, or merely his person transferred to their own private cell.
It's only when the imp whooped a giggle that Regina senses herself frowning dubiously, realizing she doesn't know who the thief is. She'd been too far gone into her Snow White paranoia to care about a neanderthal stupid enough to think he could steal from the Queen and get away with it.
"Ding ding ding ding ding!" Rumplestiltskin chants, lifting both arms in the air like he'd been caught.
Her eyelids lowered on their own accord, throat flexing because all at once there's an acidic taste of repulsion intoxicating her mouth. The hole at the very center of her seems to be sucking everything in, and the space is so largely hollow everything stops making sense. She gives one shake of her head and it's pitiful, somehow; if only the man in her room cared enough to pity. "I can't force a man to marry me."
I can't force myself to marry either, she thinks what she doesn't say.
For the very first time Regina feels an irrational urge to look for him around the room. Because they're both aware she can force someone to do nearly everything, except what she needs.
Acceptance wasn't the same as submission.
As it was, Rumplestiltskin stays mercilessly in the shadows, not a flicker of his presence captured by human eye. The only reassurance he grants her, it's a twist reminder of his own words. "Perhaps now it's the time to settle for one's fear instead of love."
Like the chilly late breeze, she can sense it when he's gone. There's a dreadful silence bearing down on her suddenly, one that has nothing to do with the mere absence of sounds. Her eyes cast themselves back to the mirror in a magnetic wave of inevitability, and no one but that foolish girl is staring back at her.
Regina contains the urge to smash it.
Rumplestiltskin's reflection is a far more accurate view.