Victory.
This is the word sculptured triumphantly in her head, when she enters in the nursery, lowering her hood. Her step-daughter is clinging to her Charming – what a beautiful vision, stains of blood splayed over his snow-white shirt. Magic tickles her skin, the electricity of the incoming storm, her supremacy.
She mocks Snow's desperation, a stab of anger when she is told that the child escaped. Oh, she'll take care of her. Her nemesis will die, she will rule, savoring every instant of her happy ending.
The walls start to collapse; she stands in the midst of the cloud.
Victory.