So, it's been like 5 years. I'm a much different person than I was all that time ago, so I'm rewriting this whole story. The basic plot is the same, still a canon divergence, AU type thing. I hope you still like it.
Warning: This story will contain blood, violence, mentions of rape, non-graphic sexual assault, torture, homophobia. If you don't feel comfortable reading or you feel like you might be triggered by these themes, please don't read.
Every waking moment was agony, and every second asleep was torture. The agony of living was far less than that of sleep, so for days on end she would force herself awake, until merciless Sleep opened his arms and bade her into his presence. When she would wake, she would wish for Death instead. At least Death was fair. Death herself would be far kinder than Sleep. Sleep would fill her mind with visions of her other nature, her standing in bloodstained snow, and were lifeless faces lied in her wake, the perfect picture of horror and gore. The accusatory eyes would cut into her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she could her their voices, yelling and screaming, and saw cold, dead eyes begging her to die. She wanted to, she wanted to so badly, but she couldn't.
Sometimes Sleep will send her memories. These were far worse. The memories were just more reminders of her past sins and the life before them. The life she had just in her grasp but lost.
Yes, Death would be a better fate.
Now she was awake, trying to push away any thoughts of her nightmares. She was still, eyes trained onto the ceiling. Every move she made would send burning pains up her whole body, so she made sure to make as little movement as possible. Even with that, her wrists throbbed. The cuffs were thick, covering part of her hand and forearm, and lined with silver. Keeping still was the only way to keep that poisonous metal from hurting her even more. This was now her life, a meaningless state between life and death.
No one was coming for her, she knew that. She was not as important as the actual mission at hand. She would become a casualty in war, and to her that was fine. As long as she's safe, she thought. That was what brought her peace during this ordeal. She's safe.
A sudden banging against the bars startles her. "Get up!" A gruff voice commands. She scrambles up. This was her least favorite guard. He found it amusing to corner her with a silver blade, watching the wounds close up as she howled.
"Lancelot, that's no why to treat a guest."
No.
Not him.
"Ah, Red- actually, that name doesn't suit you anymore." He eyed her up and down, his lips curled in a disgusting manner. He looked at her as if she was a prize he just won, and he was looking forward to breaking it. In his hands he held her iconic red cloak, the one he stripped from her back when she was captured.
She pressed her hands against the bars, her eyes narrowing. She spit in his face.
A sharp pain grabbed her. "Ahhh!" A long cut marked her shoulder. Lancelot still had his silver blade. In a knee-jerk reaction, she pressed her hand against the wound, only to cause the silver of her cuffs to bite more into her skin.
"Enough, Lancelot, I think the creature learned her lesson." He wiped his face. Though she was in pain, she couldn't help but smirk at him.
Giving him a false curtsy, "To what do I owe the pleasure, George? Getting tired of my company already?"
He looked at her as if he was chatting with an old friend, though his demeanor showed other wise. It was clear he saw that he had the upper hand, the smirk proved just as much. Looking down at a large ring on his finger, his smirk grew. "Do you know about the bounty set on you?"
A growl grew in her throat, making her voice sound deeper as she answer, "My weight in silver, I suppose."
He laughed, slapping Lancelot on the back. "Who said that creatures don't have a sense of humor? Well, wolf, surprisingly, you're worth more than that. You're worth an alliance, and what's worth more than having a powerful ally." He nodded towards his guard, who grunted as he sheaved his blade. "Get Her Majesty, down here for transport."
"You wouldn't dare," she was hoping he was bluffing. "She helped get your son killed!"
"James was a pawn, as was his bastard brother. Same for you. This war is nothing but a chess match, but rather than finding myself caught in the middle I found a powerful piece to play. I give pawn to the Queen and I get a Queen in return."
"You think you're a King, but remember this, in the end it's always the King who never sees the outcome of the game until it's too late."
"Always filled with surprises, I suppose your bandit friend taught you the merits of chess. Too bad you've outlived your usefulness, you may have been a clever opponent." He watched her as he said the words, waiting for any reaction, she didn't give him the satisfaction.
Instead she sat down on the bench that served as her bed, eyes still one him. "Remember this, at the end of this war, you'll be dead."
Out came a genuine laugh, a throaty sound. "As if the false prince had the courage to kill me." Steps coming down the stairs, three people, one Lancelot, two unknown. The clacking of heels on stone, and the near-silent footfalls of someone who spent years trying to stay unseen. "Queen Regina." George bowed slightly. "The prisoner, as requested."
Queen Regina stepped into view. Even in the dim light of a dungeon it was clear at she exuded the power of a queen, though the effect was dampened by the gaudy outfit she was wearing. She obviously spent time trying to give the effect of superiority and seduction in every outfit, but in the end, evil ruined a pretty face. Regina regarded the King with a withering look, she clearly didn't want to be here any longer than she had to be. "Perfect," she said. She took a step forward to examine the trade. "Doesn't look like much," she quipped, "Hard to believe this is the face of a monster that wiped out armies." She looked at the young man behind her, so quiet that Red nearly forgot he was there. "Huntsman?"
He grunted, "A child of the moon."
The words sent a jolt of sadness and pain through her body. A wave of faces crossed her mind's eye Quinn, losing his life for nothing but being with Red at the wrong time, and her own mother, she killed her. It was an accident but it was murder.
"And her cloak?" the Queen asked.
Lancelot opened a trunk that had been just out of arms reach from her cell, producing the red cape that kept her powers at bay. The Queen examined it with interest. "Rumple's work," she smirked. "Do you think that the people you killed were the price you had to pay for this kind of magic?"
Red growled at her. Something had a hold around her neck, cutting off her air. She gasped, clawing at her throat. She could feel blood trickling down collar bone, her nails cut into her deep.
Then the feeling went away. She collapsed, struggling to catch her breath and have her heartbeat return to normal. She made eye contact with the man called Huntsman mouth, "Behave." His eyes were sad, and his demeanor beaten. This was a broken man. If the Queen had him under her control, this was him rebelling in the most radical way, a quiet motion of support for a fellow captive.
"I won't have animals in my court. If you value your life, or your heart, you won't be doing that again."
Red only narrowed her eyes, jutting her chin out defiantly. She wasn't about to make it easy for the Queen.
It was a silent battle of wills, neither willing to back down, but one was clearly at a disadvantage. Bloody rags and a strong will wasn't enough to scare away a Queen who took joy from ripping out hearts. No, the Queen simply returned the smirk, an eyebrow arching, daring the wolf to come out the play. "I always wanted a real pet wolf. I'm going to enjoy breaking you," was all she said as waved a hand to magic the cell doors open. Red took the opportunity to lunge at the Queen, her teeth now deadly sharp and claws out.
This only caused the silver to dig farther into her skin and the Queen to laugh. She was only inches from her, struggling to be freed from her bonds, biting back screams. The smell of blood hit the air, and Red knew it was her own. She could feel the beads of red running down her hands and drip, drip, drip against the floor.
"You are a fool," Regina smiled even wider. With a snap the chains were gone, but Red was stuck in place. "And persistent. Let see how long that lasts."