Just a little ditty to follow up from the new episode of OUAT.
Something called to him the moment he saw her.
She was strange and beautiful and looked into his eyes like she could see his soul. He'd never seen a woman like her, with hair as short as a man's and eyes so dark and beautiful.
She gave up her necklace like it was nothing and everything, pulling the black leather glove from her slender fingers and resting her hand in his with a lingering, sorrowful touch. He had rushed her, bullied her and stolen her jewels. But he couldn't help but see in her eyes that there was something more that had been taken from her, time, a moment, her breath.
She looked at him as if she knew him.
When she came to him in the tavern, she perplexed him. He couldn't help the gentle pull at the corner of his lips when he saw her step around the table. He'd never expected to see her again, but there she sat, asking him if he was happy.
He couldn't remember a moment in his life when he truly was.
She asked him if he believed her. He hesitated, if only to suspend the notion that he'd believed her from the second she'd looked up from where she'd dropped on the riverbank, and he'd looked into those dark, tearful eyes. He couldn't help that he believed her in an instant, he made light of it. But he couldn't tell her he could feel a tugging on his soul, a pressure in his heart, a voice in his head, screaming at him to believe her, follow her, trust her. Love her.
She was the Evil Queen, the drunks and swindlers in the tavern had fled, screaming. He felt like his feet had been set in lead the moment he'd heard her voice, never to run again.
She wept for him.
The great and terrible Evil Queen, with tear tracks down her rose-pink cheeks, sucking in her lip to mask the pain. She loved him. Not him, but a version. Another him, a better, more deserving, him.
She spoke of him like he was ordained by the gods, righteous and pure and kind. It turned his stomach that she could see that in him, when all he'd ever known was the selfish want for more. He hadn't thought to give the riches he stole to the poor, he hadn't thought he had the strength to be that charitable. Bitter and alone, he'd always wanted to be a better man, but never had the courage.
She, the formidable, terrible Queen, had opened his eyes and touched his soul. He wanted to be better, for her. She made him, just in the few hours he'd known her, want to be the version of him that made her weep and lament.
He'd felt a pressure on his heart when she'd told him, that the other him, the kinder, him; her, him, was dead. A guilt had nibbled at him, as the tears had trickled down her cheeks because his heart had soared with opportunity.
She'd opened her mouth to ask the question and his heart was already committed.
Two words, I'm in, and he knew in his heart that it was the right choice.
Maybe they could be each other's second chance.