Author's Note: Hey Oncer's! This is a one shot following the POV of the young Queen Regina and young Snow White on a very revealing night behind the palace walls.
WARNING: This story is extremely dark and contains brutal rape and abuse.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show OUAT nor do I own the characters or any other aspect of the show.
Regina
Staring into the mirror of her beautiful mahogany vanity, one meant for a queen, the young woman wondered. She'd always wonder; she'd always dwell on what could have been. What was the use in that? She was here now, confined to the walls of the palace like her reflection, a prisoner of the mirror. It could go nowhere else other than right there. It could only be seen if people were looking at that one place, that one small orb of glass. When she walked away, it would disappear and be forgotten.
The woman was just as much prisoner here. She could not go beyond the walls of the palace. Her life was scheduled for her; there was no freedom. It was a simple routine in which she could never be alone or unwatched. She felt like not only a prisoner, but also some sort of possession to him. She wasn't a woman anymore; she wasn't even a human; she was nothing more than a trophy kept to be admired for its beauty and its elegance.
She was kept under extreme watch by his guards. They wouldn't let her run; they wouldn't let her be free. She was a caged bird guarded by vicious felines. If she tried to escape, they'd devour her in an instant. And there would be no mercy from them. Yes her husband might have seemed kind and could validly say, when the doctors asked, that he never hit her. It was only because the man needed to keep an image as the honorable and generous King that he was. To his wife, he was more than generous when he'd order a guard to punish her for her disobedience.
It didn't happen often. But when it did, it was brutal. There would be times when she could not show herself in court due to the bruises and the scares. And the King; he'd just stand and watch as it happened. A proud smirk would remain on his face as he listened to her whimper and cry. She wasn't his first wife, she didn't love him and always made it known that she did not. So, he'd make her love him. Clearly it wouldn't be real, but it only needed to appear so. He'd provoke fear in her, though the courts could not see passed his array of greatness.
He would force obedience on the young women. She wasn't even a woman yet; she was only nineteen, still a child. But she still complied with him. She'd let him touch her, let him kiss her body and kiss her lips. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach as she watched the King waltz into their bedchambers with a flask in hand and humming a tune; tonight would be one of those nights. Though she dreaded it, though she feared it, she tried to remain strong and dignified.
Setting down the brush in her hand, she watched through the reflection in the mirror as he approached her. He stumbled forward, crashing into the vanity and making her things fall to the floor. She cringed at the strong scent of whisky on his breath. He stuck the flask in her face and then laughed as she pushed it away with a disgusted look.
The drunken man took his young wife by the arm, not so gently, and led her to the bed. As she was shoved, she sat at the edge and watched as he stood in front of her breathing heavily with wicked smirk on his face. He gestured to her; she knew exactly what he was referring to as well.
"Leopold, please. I'm-" She was silenced as the King's hand cupped her face tightly, almost violently.
He said to her with a few slurred words, "It's Your Majesty to you." He forcefully pushed her back as he let go of his tight grip on her jaw. "Now do it," He commanded, "and I promise to be gentle with you."
She felt that she had no choice but to comply with the man. Slowly and hesitantly, the young woman reached towards the man's pants. She unbuttoned them, unzipped them, and let them drop to the floor, exposing her husband to her young eyes. This isn't the way it's supposed to be. She thought as she moved to the middle of the bed. Not even given a chance to lie down and rest her head to the pillow, she felt the inebriated man climb onto the bed.
He was like some sort of animal, drooling over its prey before it devoured it. She shut her eyes tightly as she felt him raise her pure white nightgown above her waist and then pulled off her panties. She kept her hands beside her head and tried so hard not to fidget as she was forced to endure his wet kisses on her thighs. Without a single hesitation, he opened her legs and exposed her to the cold, frigid air. Uncomfortable chills ran down her spine as he kissed her inner thigh, moving closer and closer to her parts.
Her hands tightly gripped the pillow that her head rested upon. She gasped slightly at the feeling as he flicked his tongue around her entrance to taste his prey. He enjoyed this, this torture he conducted upon this young woman. The man laughed as she moaned from his touch; this was all a game to him. He controlled her and he always won.
The woman bit down on her lip as he began to trail kisses up her abdomen and to her breast. He continued to push up the nightgown until her young, sweet breasts were exposed to him. He wrapped his hungry lips around her right one, swirling his tongue around her soft nipple. Her face fearfully cringed at the feeling of him hardening against her inner thigh.
This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She thought marriage was to be made on the foundation of love. But this, this was nothing but power and control. She was his plaything and he made it clear that she was nothing more than that. He kissed her body, her neck, her thighs; the only time he had ever kissed her on the lips was their wedding day or in the presence of the royal court. She wasn't worthy enough to be kissed that way; she wasn't his first wife, but he still needed to keep his image.
Her face twitched again, as his cold hand slid all the way down her side, to her waist and then her thigh. He lifted her opened legs to get a good angle. Taking a hold of his erection, he began to teasingly rub it against her entrance. He knew how these nights pained her and he enjoyed watching her squirm as he took his sweet time. She was a disobedient child; she needed to learn and sometimes be punished for not loving him, as a proper wife should.
She always tried so hard to prepare herself, but it never worked. He knew that she didn't enjoy it; he knew that she tried so hard to brace herself for him, so he in turn would make it so she couldn't. As the cusp of his hardness bobbed in and out of her, stretching her for him, she prayed that he would be gentle as he promised.
Her eyes shut even tighter, her head dug deeply and her has gripped hard onto the pillow as he thrust into her slowly. He stared at the painful look on her face as he thrust deeper into her. She tried to bury her face into the pillow so that he would see her cringe, but he cupped her face with one hand and held her head strait. He'd wanted to look at her face, wanted to rip away every ounce of her dignity. She didn't respect him, she didn't love him and she didn't obey him; he was going to punish her for it.
One hand held her face; the other was placed on the bed beside her waist holding him up. His arm entrapped her leg, holding it up and preventing it from dropping. His anger and hate for her continued to increase, as did his thrusts. They became forceful, painful for her. He was no longer thrusting but pounded against her body roughly.
He watched her face cringe and listened to her gasp and whimper as he pounded hard against her cervix. He could see the tears forming in her eyes. "Please." She whispered breathlessly. "Please stop."
But the man ignored her plea and continued. Regina took her hands and tried pushing his chest to get him off of her. "Get off of me!" She grew louder and more panicked, "You're hurting me! Stop, please!"
But the drunken man was not going to stop until she learned her lesson. She was his. He took his hand from her face and violently grabbed her wrists. He pinned her arms above her head and gave one deep, hard thrust, which made her scream from the pain. The woman continued to yell out until her husband placed his other hand over her mouth and grunted. He continued to go at her while she cried and struggled to get him off of her. But the muffled screams could not be heard by anyone, at least anyone who truly cared.
She tried to move her head and scream, but his grip on her face was tight; it would leave a brutal mark there for sure. Through the sounds of her own screams, the woman heard some sort of commotion outside of the room. Still struggling to free herself and still screaming as best she could from her panic, she heard the rustling outside of the bedchamber. Regina! She heard a voice yell, but that was all. She could not focus on anything other than the pain she currently felt.
Snow White
The little princess, after preparing herself for the evening, climbed into her large bed. She crossed her legs and hummed a sweet tune to herself as she placed a small book in front of her. As she opened it, she listened to a soft knock on her door. Looking up she smiled, "Good evening, Johanna."
Johanna was the princess' maid, a kind old woman whom Snow had bonded strongly with after her mother's death. "Why are you still awake, your Highness?" The woman walked in and beckoned the girl to get underneath her covers. "It is far too late for you to still be up. Just look at the hour."
"Johanna, I am not tired." Snow said with a hint of attitude towards the older woman.
"You shall be in the morning when you wake for your lesson. Come along!" She gestured for Snow to lie down.
The young girl rolled her eyes and rested her head in the pillow. Johanna left the door to room open a sliver. The crack in the door revealed the bright lights shining from the corridor. Rays of moonlight gleamed through the closed shades of the princess' window.
She stared at the white shards of light that imprinted a shadow on the floor. In the complete silence of the room all the girl could do was think. Different things drifted through her mind: she wondered what her lesson might entail, if maybe the lesson would be outdoors in the courtyard. She always enjoyed her lessons in the courtyard; the sun would keep her warm, the fresh scent of her stepmother's apple tree would waft through the air. Most of the time, the girl's stepmother was outdoors tending to her tree during her lesson.
Snow was never sure why, but Regina always seemed so sad and lonely whenever she saw her. She remained distant from her stepdaughter no matter how much Snow tried to love her. She'd wonder if it had anything to do with that stable boy Daniel. He had just left her heart broken; Snow knew how much Regina had fallen in love with him. She couldn't imagine what it had been like to find out the truth about someone she thought she had loved, someone she thought she knew so well.
But no matter her attempt to distance herself from the young princess, Snow still admired her stepmother. She was so beautiful, strong and independent. Though more and more, as Snow watched her stepmother tend to her apple tree, she realized how she was changing. She was quieter, weaker, and less independent. The princess couldn't understand what was happening to the woman. There were times when Regina would not attend court or a banquet claiming she was ill; sometimes she'd be locked in her bedchambers for over a week. Snow could feel that some people knew the truth but of course they wouldn't admit it to the young girl.
She stared upon the light on the floor thinking about how she missed the old Regina. Only six months had passed and Snow could tell that she was no longer the same person. She wanted that woman back, the woman who saved her, who taught her things about life and love and how to face her fears. She closed her eyes, remembering that woman, holding onto her in her mind.
Suddenly, just as she was about to doze off, the young girl heard a scream from the corridor. It wasn't loud, but the echo carried enough for Snow to hear it and the voice was familiar. The princess did not hesitate jumping out of her bed and swiftly moving down the corridor to where the sounds were coming from.
She heard another yell; it was desperate, afraid. Snow turned a corner and noticed the guards standing outside of her father and stepmother's bedchamber. She could tell that the sounds were muffled now, but they were still forceful coming from the bedchamber. Snow nervously approached the doors that were guarded. "What is happening? Why are you guarding my father's bedchamber?" She looked to one of the large guards standing there.
"Return to your bedchamber, your Highness." The guard answered simply, not answering even one of her questions.
The young girl became startled at another horrified scream coming from the room. She could now tell that this was in fact her young stepmother. She sounded in pain, like she was being tortured. "Tell me what's happening in there!" She demanded loudly. She listened to another panicked yell and suddenly became frantic. "She's being hurt! You have to help her!" The princess yelled as she tried to get through the guards standing in her way. She tried pushing them aside to get to the door. "Please! Someone is hurting her!" She cried. The distraught princess began to sob as she punched at one of the guard's armor, but it seemed to be hurting her more than him. "Why aren't you helping her?" She cried as the second guard calmly grabbed the princess, pulled her back and restrained her arms. "Regina!" She yelled out.
She struggled, but it was no use. She couldn't win against a trained guard. She dropped her head and sobbed. She didn't understand why they were letting this happen, why they were just standing outside the door while her own stepmother was screaming in pain. Where was her father? Who was doing this to Regina?
The guard began to lead her back to her room as the girl calmed down. The yelling from the room had stopped. Snow feared what might have happened, but she couldn't fight as the guard forcefully pushed her away. Snow turned her head to look back when the door to the bedchamber opened. Snow gasped at the sight; it was her own father standing outside of the room. "Father?" Snow questioned confused. The girl managed to get out of the guard's grip and run back to him. "Father, what happened?"
"Snow, what are you doing? Go back to bed immediately." The man reprimanded.
But it was too late. The door was partially left open, revealing the truth. Snow stared over at her stepmother who was lying helplessly on the bed. She saw the nightgown bunched up at her waist; the way she laid there, it was as if she was paralyzed. Regina was gripping the pillow; her head turned facing towards the door where Snow could see her expression perfectly. Her face was a deep red color from the screaming, covered in tears, and an even darker red mark showed around her mouth where he had held his hand to muffle the screams. The woman's mouth was agape, her chest moving up and down as she breathed heavily; it would occasionally spasm as she let out a whimper or cried. Snow noticed red marks on her wrist; he had not only held her mouth but he had restrained her from moving.
Snow kept her eyes on her stepmother. How could she not have known that this was happening? How did she not know the truth? She watched the woman lying still in the bed. Snow watched as Regina's eyes opened and looked right at her. Her eyes told it all: she was weak, vulnerable, hurt and scared. No one deserved this. Snow thought to herself. She looked up at her father with an astonished expression. She didn't know what to say. All that escaped her mouth were three words, "How could you?"
Snow looked back at her stepmother with tears falling to her cheeks and then to the floor. She tried to go to her, but was blocked by her father and soon pulled back by a guard. She kicked and struggled, trying to fight back as he carried her back to her bedchamber.
Regina
Thank you, God. The young Queen thought to her self as she felt the wicked man climbing off of her. After he released her wrists from his hard grip, the Queen struggled to move them. She lifted her right hand slowly and pulled her white night gown back over her breasts and her abdomen as best she could. Unable to move the lower half of her torso, which was still throbbing and, most likely, would be for a good few days, she could only pull the gown down to her waist where she remained slightly exposed.
Lifting her left arm, she felt a sharp pain in her wrist. She couldn't roll it around without pain shooting through her nerves. She had no doubt that it was broken or sprained from the massed weight of her husband's force upon it as well as the colliding with her other wrist as he held her down. All she could do was rest it on her abdomen and try to not move it.
Her eyes shut tight allowing more tears to escape and fall down her cheeks. Letting her head fall to her right, she couldn't stop the aching in her abdomen as she sobbed; every breath made her feel as if all of the ribs in her body had caved in on her lungs. Regina gripped the pillow beside her head as she sobbed quietly into it; she feared that if she were too loud, her husband would simply find a way to punish her further.
She could hear it clearly now, even through her sobs and whimpers; the commotion that was taking place outside of the door. She listened to her husband's footsteps move swiftly across the floor. He hadn't even removed his shoes. As he redressed and moved outside of the room to see what the trouble was. Regina kept her eyes closed. She tried draining out the sounds, listening to only her thoughts, her prayers.
The Queen had never grown up religious; she still wasn't partial to it either. But something inside of her, as she felt what started out as just an unpleasant night of intercourse with her husband become a vicious and painful raping from a monster, made her want to pray. She let out all of her fearful thoughts; she asked why her life was like this, what she had done to deserve this, and begged for it to stop. Painfully restrained and with a hand over her mouth to muffle her voice, the woman felt more than just violated; she had felt hopeless, unable to scream, unable to fight, unable to say no. Her body, her innocence and every shred left of her dignity were gone. The last thing she had asked God before she finally felt her husband stop was to just let him kill her; it would have been easier than all of that.
The young woman's prayers ceased as she came to a harsh realization. Why pray to a god? No loving god would let her life be this way, would let these horrid things happen to her, would let her be punished for just trying to be herself. She knew that she didn't deserve this; no one ever deserved it.
Her eyes fluttered open to reveal the dark brown spheres; they were empty, all innocence and all happiness gone from those eyes. The only image within her gaze was that little girl; the sweet and pure little Snow who was naïve of her father's true self, who believed that her stepmother had been happy, who knew nothing. But her widened hazel-green eyes, her confused and scared expression at the sight of her stepmother in that state, revealed everything.
Another sharp, throbbing pain shot through her wrist forcing her to shut her eyes and cringe. She couldn't watch; she didn't want to watch as the young girl was pulled away screaming her name. She didn't want to believe it. This girl, the girl whose voice once revealed her secret that had brought her here, was now screaming her name. This girl whom Regina wanted to loath more than life itself was the only person who fought; she was the only one who cared.
She listened to the doors of the bed chamber slam shut and the screaming voice of the princess echoing throughout the halls as she was taken to her room, to her own prison. More tears fell from the young Queen's eyes as she turned her head to her left. She stared at bright moonlight shining through the window, the gleaming rays falling to the floor. Thoughts entered her mind about her stepdaughter. For so long this child wanted to love her, but the Queen loathed her still. Now broken and lost, unable to even move, all she could think about was this girl. She was scared for the princess. Feeling only more agonizing pain throughout her body, she realized that she didn't want something like this to become of the girl; she wanted her to be protected. But there was no way. They were invisible to the outside and this could only continue.
Snow White
He tossed the girl into her room. She fell to the floor, still distressed and so confused. The door slammed shut and was locked from the outside. The guard would most likely stay there for the rest of the night. Snow quickly got to her feet and ran to the door. She slammed her hands to it trying to force it open. Banging on it with her fists, she let herself sob uncontrollably and sink down to the floor. Her forehead rested on the door as she banged with her fists more weakly and despairingly.
She sat there, trapped. She couldn't escape; she couldn't go to her stepmother who had just been brutally raped by her own father. For so long, Snow had been so naïve of her father; her love for him blocked out the truth. The princess had been so innocent; however, as she thought to herself, she now believed it to be stupidity. How could she have not seen what was right in front of her? Regina had become a slave to her own husband. No, not even a slave; she had been treated far worse. She had been locked up in what Snow thought was paradise, but, in reality for Regina, was prison. And now that Snow had finally seen it, she too was locked up. Her home, she now thought, would become a similar prison. Behind the walls of the palace, no one would ever know what was truly hidden.
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