Regina meets the Evil Queen, post 5.23. This is an angsty idea that begged to be written. You have been warned. Keep in mind, I couldn't avoid references to torture and abuse. Not particularly about romantic ships. Title means "the joy one feels while watching someone suffering", from German.
"Time to wake up, your majesty."
The whisper in her ear makes her shiver, because she knows that soft voice, she knows it, she has used it. She blinks, finally taking in her surroundings – the vault, of course, where else could she go to hide?
An old memory comes to her mind, because she feels a cold, constraining embrace at her wrists – handcuffs, of metal, and also the leather one she keeps down there, the one Greg used on her a long time ago. A sudden panic, and her heart is faster now, because she's prisoner, and powerless, and scared.
"Aren't you a good sleeper, Gina? Light magic has made you weak, dear."
She lifts her eyes at her – widens her eyes, there she is, the Evil Queen, in all her beauty and darkness. She has changed, since their little meeting in New York – she is wearing something that isn't of the forest, and isn't of Storybrooke, but of somewhere in between. A black dress, leather corset, leather gown, and a random thought crosses her mind – she looks like Emma when she was the Dark One, except that Emma wasn't so scary, wasn't so evil, and she didn't have this look that screams murder. No, this is the Evil Queen at the apex of her madness. Her hair is still long, twisted on a side, her eyes glimmer of purple – she must be full of magic, and she has taken her powers. How? She doesn't recall anything – last memory she has, is sitting down in her office, and then is… blank.
"Why… are you alive?"
Her whisper is broken, and she hates it, hates how weak she must have sounded, because the queen laughs openly, her eyes remain cold.
"The real question is… why did you kill me, Regina?"
She is staring at her, and she has seen that rage before. She has seen it in an old mirror, and she has never realized how crazy she looked. How this madness is dangerous, out of control, and she has to get out of here, she has to make sure Henry is okay, that he's safe, and Snow, Emma, Zelena, her niece – her loved ones – and she has lost too much already – Daniel, Robin, her parents, and she can't let her –
She can't let her exist.
"I don't need you," she mutters, repeats her words from that evening, when she has crushed her own heart and believed to have destroyed the darkness, her sins, her punishment.
The Queen lifts a single eyebrow, has her hands on her hips, and moves closer, just one step. "Yes, you have already said that," she concedes. "But, deep down, you know… you know I'm your only chance of survival. When we lose everything… you need me. And we always lose, Regina. Always."
She lets her words sink, for a moment, all stays silent, and she's mocking her with a triumphant smile. She's right, her mind whispers. How many times have we lost someone?
But she shakes those thoughts away, and her chain jingle in a feeble attempt of rebellion. "I was surviving perfectly well, without you," she bites back. "I don't want the darkness, I –"
"Oh, please!" she interrupts her with a scoff. She's not amused, she's getting angry. Regina retreats, back pressed against the cold wall. The queen covers the distance that still separates them, and now, her face is so near she can feel her perfume and her breath on her skin. "You love the darkness," she spells out. "You loved being me."
"No," she answers promptly. "I hated being you."
The queen backs off, and she can breathe again. Suddenly, she feels the metal tightening around her wrists, and can't hold back the start of a cry – she squeezes her eyes shut, and the pain stops.
"Better?" the queen murmurs, with honey in her voice, and lifts a hand to caress her hair, tangling her fingers between her locks. Regina stiffens, moving slightly her head, so she doesn't feel the contact anymore.
"Ah, Regina…" she sighs, with one last caress. "Mother was right – without me, without your magic, you're nothing more than a weak and disobedient girl," she says, with eyes shining of wickedness. "I had an interesting… chat with Mister Hyde, today," she tells her, and this, this gets her attention, and she meets her eyes – they're darker, not their usual chocolate shade…
"Hyde?"
"Ah, right, you know of him," she answers, delighted. "He's been very… helpful," she takes some steps, and reaches something she has placed near some candles. "Gods, this vault has become a public library," she says with disdain, noticing a few of Henry's books piled up next to her magic tomes. "Not to mention," she lifts one hand, finally retrieving what she was looking for – it's a sheet of paper, and a pen, "not to mention your… nasty encounters with your lovers, former lovers, whatever," she smirks, and goes to sit on a chair. She swings her gown aside, and crosses her legs, watching her like a wolf watches a sheep he's about to eat.
"That's not your business," Regina retorts, and immediately, the queen's hand clenches, and so do the metal circles on her wrists, and this time they squeeze deeper, and she has to bit her lower lip not to cry. She won't give her the pleasure of hearing another scream.
After some seconds, the queen releases the pressure, and leans back on the chair, almost annoyed. "Now, will you be a good girl and avoid contradicting me?"
She has to nod, tears of rage gathering in her eyes, and watches her lips lift in an amused smile. "Good," she says, and settles more comfortably. "Now, where were we? Ah, Mister Hyde. He gave me some advice," she explains, "rule one, for example – that's my favorite, by the way: I've called it No one hurts Regina but me." She smiles widely, and Regina stands absolutely still. Maybe, if she's quiet, the queen won't notice her heart beating so fast.
"Isn't it lovely?" she beams, waving her hand lazily, and suddenly, and invisible force is choking her, and she flies back in time, Please, Mother, I'll be good…
The release comes after five or six seconds – just a taste of her power, of her absolute madness. "No one hurts Regina. This part is easy, to be honest," she muses, removing the top of the pen. "See, during those last years, since you held that spoiled child of yours for the first time…"
Regina struggles against the chains – she'll be damned before she lets her speak of Henry like this, and she doesn't care of the punishment. "Don't you dare bring my son into this," she hisses, and her body tenses, expecting the magic at any moment, but the queen just looks at her, amused.
"That brat is the first reason you buried me inside of you," she says sweetly. "You obviously understand why he has to be my target number one."
Shivers of cold run down her spine – no one, not even Pan when she has gone to Neverland, no one has ever made her feel so terrified. Because Pan was a kid, with a wicked mind and a perverted plan, but she was strong, she had her family's back up, Emma's strength, and no regrets. But the Queen, she knows her, she was her. No mercy. In the Queen's mind, Henry is nothing more than an obstacle. The Queen was ready to kill baby Emma, before the curse hit. She has slaughtered villages, she has made so many children orphans, separated them from their parents. She has paid for some of those sins – Jefferson got his revenge for his Grace, pushing Gold to press a medallion on her palm and tie her soul to a Wraith – Greg has tortured her for two days, because she has killed his father – Percival nearly killed Robin because she has set his village ablaze…
"Please."
It's just a whisper, and she isn't even sure it has left her lips. She lowers her eyes to the ground. Hears the queen chuckle, and she can't meet her gaze.
"Are you… begging me?"
Regina inhales, and finally lifts her eyes. "Yes. Don't hurt Henry. Do whatever you want with me, but don't hurt him."
The queen is looking at her intently, almost disappointed. "Always a sad day when Mother is right," she says. "Love is weakness."
"What you would know about that?" she can't resist, she pokes her where she knows she'll hurt. "You don't love anyone, you don't care, you –" but words die in her throat, at the wave of the queen's hand.
She has taken her voice.
Regina gasps, and finally understands the torture she has put Ariel and Zelena through – her hands fly to her neck, but she stops at mid-air, restrained by her chains. This magic is horrible – like a cloth forced down into her mouth, as if she is suffocating.
"Finally, you're quiet," the queen says, watching her fruitless attempts to reach her throat, and then her murderous gaze. "Yes, look at me like that, the important thing is… now you'll shut up," she smirks. "I was saying, before being so ungracefully interrupted, that your kid is the first of my list," and Regina realizes what the paper and pen were for – she's actually writing down a list of the people she has to hurt on her behalf. Her eyes follow the pen – it's tracing a hyphen, then those letters she'd recognize anywhere.
– Henry.
She forces herself to breathe slowly, and the queen finishes with an elegant swirl on the last letter. "Now, it's obvious to me that Snow has to be the second, am I right?" She adds the name under Henry's, and Regina can only watch the list grow, as the queen writes names and names, without speaking. Then, after what must be a minute but feels like a day, she ends with a period, and places the pen down, smoothing the paper with a slow movement.
"Henry," she begins, and Regina's heart already clenches, as if there is a fist around it. "Snow, Emma, Zelena," she recites, and yes, these ones are obvious. "Hook, David, Maleficent." Regina closes her eyes, but it's a clear mistake, because now she sees their faces and their smiles, and it hurts, because she's about to lose them. "The Dark One, Belle, their unborn child."
It hurts, and it's atrocious, because this queen is something the world has never experienced. Once upon a time, she was the queen, the queen was her, and they had some light buried inside of them. Now, the Queen is all darkness, without a heart, and doesn't have a filament of good in her. It's only death and destruction.
"And… oh, yes, your lover's children… Roland – I'll bring him back, don't worry – and your niece… and Snow's son," the queen smiles, and Regina now shakes her head, eyes teary with rage, because she has sworn to protect them, all three of them, and they're innocent.
"We have already killed Leo – remember that? You're welcome, by the way," she mocks her. "Without me, you'd still be his slave, remember? Or you regret that too? Wasn't it good, to watch his poisoned dead body? Wasn't it… satisfying?"
Regina stares at her, and apparently, the queen knows what she's thinking. "Ah, yes. I am right, after all. You love the darkness, Regina, and the darkness loves to eat your soul, your heart, and to make you lose everyone – because that's what you deserve, you know? Before of me, you were weak, and abused, and scared, and to be honest, you were pathetic," she hisses. "Look at you now – you're the same, the girl who cries when Mother uses magic, the girl who cries after the King leaves our chambers…"
She takes the paper slowly, and places it above a book. Then, she lifts from her chair, even more slowly, and now she looks exactly like a wolf, starts pacing circles around her. "So, no one hurts Regina," she chants, her hand sliding again between her hair. "And I'll make sure of it… but Hyde was quite clear on another point. No one hurts Regina… but me. And you want to know the best part of it?" she lowers her head, so that her lips are only a breath away from her ear. "I know exactly how to destroy you," she whispers, with that voice, that silken voice that has always meant death, and murder, and evil.
Regina turns her head, so that the queen can't see the solitary tear rolling down her cheek, splashing on her shirt. Her throat hurts, her wrists hurt, and her fear has now consumed all the adrenaline left in her blood. Her heart is hammering, and she feels one of the queen's hands come and settle on her shoulder. Another wave of magic, and she feels her throat free, as if a rope has been removed from her neck, and can't help but cough.
The queen waits, silent, and holds her shoulder gently, rubs her back, and Regina flinches at the touch, wants nothing more than to jostle away that hand. "You'll regret this," she tells her, because she may be good, but her first instinct is protect those she loves. Even if for some of them it's too late. She can't lose other people. She knows how she plans to destroy her – she wants to kill them all, to punish them for hurting her.
"You will regret this, Regina. You. You should have never let me out to play…" the queen bites her own lower lip, smirking at her. "You should have known better than to listen to Snow and Emma… what do they know about darkness? You should have stuck to the words your thief wrote you… the heroine woman he fell in love with… as if you have ever been a hero in the first place," she laughs. "And Emma, and Henry, saying they believe in you? Snow, saying she forgave you?" She strokes her hair, gently. "Of course you thought it was true… don't you see they were just scared of you?"
Regina has her gaze fixed on the floor, and mutters between her teeth. "They… they were never scared of me," she says. "Henry has felt betrayed, he was never scared. Snow is brave, she has never backed off from a fight. Robin…" the words are trapped in her throat, but she gulps, goes on. "Robin always knew of my darkness, and this has never stopped him from loving me. And Emma… Emma knows me, and she said she was wrong to doubt me. So, yes, it was true," she ends, decisively.
"Oh, sweetheart," the queen sighs, "It pains me, you know? It's so sad, thinking you'll die without anyone who truly loves you. That's why we need each other… I'm the only one who understands your torments…"
"You don't understand a thing," she scoffs. "You think I am weak? Untie me, give me my magic back, and let's see who is weak."
She doesn't answer, but smiles at her patronizingly, as if she is a child who sings of nonsense. Why would she want to free her, after all? She has her exactly where she needs her to be, at her mercy and powerless, without the light magic that could be her doom, without any help from the outside, from her family. Her family – they need to stay as far from here as possible, because she won't go down without a fight, and she wants them nowhere near this… this monster.
"You are weak, there's no point in discussing that," the queen whispers. "Until now, you've managed to control me… it would have been nice, to kill Marian, right? To kill Zelena in New York? To snap Rumple's neck, to slit Hook's throat when he has come back – because we always lose, as I said. But you're weak, and you couldn't bear to stand before Henry's judgement, or Snow's tears, or Robin's rage, or Emma's fury. You are weak, dear, and the sooner you'll stop denying it, the sooner you can surrender."
"Never."
She spits it out, because she refuses to let her see a crack in her armour. She musters all the rage she can, and if her eyes could incinerate her on the spot, she'd do it. She would turn her to dust, and throw her in the shadows of the past, where she has to stay.
She can hurt her, but as long as they keep talking, Henry and her family are safe, as long as the queen doesn't exit the vault, she'll continue to be Scheherazade, and she'll entertain the queen, she'll tolerate her madness and the pain she'll inflict upon her, she'll take all of it – as long as Henry is safe.
The queen tilts her head, with curiosity in her eyes. "Never?" she repeats. "Oh, we'll see about that." She nears her, a hand slides on her jacket, and Regina keeps her body perfectly still. The queen finds her pocket, and extracts her phone, throwing her a smirk.
"I could easily speak and pretend to be you," she says, voice like sugar. "But it's more fun, knowing that you –" she unlocks the screen, and starts scrolling through her contacts, "– will make the call that is going to end your son's life, isn't it?"
Regina shakes her head, "No," she says firmly. "You will stay as far from Henry as possible, you'll have to pass over my dead body before you touch –" a sharp pain, and suddenly her cheek is on fire – the queen has lost her patience, and surely her hand is still burning from the violence of her slap.
That same hand goes to grip her hair, it pulls it, and she is forced to meet her eyes – flames, magic, and a dark orbit circles her irises. "You make this call, or I can just leave you here, and then go and find him – don't you want a few last moments with your darling boy?"
"I know you want me to watch, while you kill him," Regina spits out. She has felt this rage before – she was on the ground all three times, holding a dead body in her arms. The smell of the stables, Daniel getting colder and colder against her lips. Rumple next to her, magically healed, her mother dying slowly. The harsh floor of her office, and Zelena storming in, holding stolen pages, and the words erased from existence bouncing in her head –
She has felt this rage, and she'll never let the Queen lay a finger on Henry, because he's all she has left, Henry, her family, and what's the point of living if she keeps losing? If she'll lose everyone?
Her heart burns, her cheek burns, and she has to get out of here. She starts struggling against the chains, while the queen presses the green button, and the phone rings.
"NO!" she shouts, but the queen smiles, waves her hand again, captures her voice again, and this time she's prepared, but it hurts nonetheless. Holding the phone up near her ear, the queen lifts a single finger to her lips, be quiet, she is saying.
The ringing stops, and… Henry's voice. "Mom?"
"Henry?" the queen answers, all sugar and honey, and she has to admit, her imitation is practically perfect. "Henry, sweetheart, where are you?"
"I'm at Granny's with Violet, why? Is there something wrong?"
"Oh, no, nothing's wrong," the queen tells him, and Regina lets her tears fall, finally, because his voice is the breaking point. He's with the girl he likes, probably drinking hot cocoa, and he's about to die because of her. "I was wondering, could you… come to my vault? Alone?"
"Oh, ah, okay," he says, and she can tell he's surprised by this request – it's weird for her to interrupt a date, and in fact, "Mom, are you alright?"
"Yes, sweetie, don't worry," the queen beams. "I've just found something that I wanted to show you – but if you have one moment, it's not urgent –"
"No, no, okay," he says. "I'll tell Violet I'll see her tonight, if that's okay?" A stab of relief, at least Violet will survive. For now.
"Sure, that's perfect," the queen says. "I'll see you in a few minutes, then," she adds, and closes the call with a swipe of her finger.
Then, turns towards her, like a lioness that has captured the prey. "Looks like we'll have guests," she beams, and her hand goes to lift her chin. "I'll better go and make sure he doesn't bring along some heroes – you wait here, dear, no need to get up," she laughs, and turns, exiting the room, up the stairs.
And she's left alone.
A weird numbness has taken hold of her mind. Henry. He's all that matters now. Not her burning cheek, not the wet trails of her tears, not the painful ache for water, not the cold shivers and dizziness. Henry.
When Daniel died, one of the reasons she's agreed to learn magic was an oath she has vowed to herself. Never again I'll let someone make me powerless. Back then, she didn't want to love again. Her heart needed to love again, but it had taken years of pain and loss to open herself up, and for what?
Saying goodbye to Henry at the townline. Having to save Snow's and David's life to recast the dark curse. Watching Emma disappear in a vortex of ink and despair. Being forced to stand and see her soulmate die in the cruelest way possible.
If she loses Henry now, for good, it's at her own hands – because it may be another body, but the Queen is a part of herself, and it will be her fault. The queen despises her memories of Henry, it's weakness, his giggles when he was a baby, the stories she used to tell him, nights curled up in bed with her, and the most recent and cherished ones, when he has come home – when Elsa was in town – yelling he was missing his room, and when in Camelot she has spotted him with Violet, and watching him write, and every time he calls her Mom…
If she loses Henry now, she's done. She won't need the Queen to crush her heart, she'll do it herself.
Does it make her weak?
Or it's just normal?
Is there a limited number of times a heart can break, even if it's the most resilient?
But you didn't do it, when you lost Henry after Neverland, a part of her murmurs.
But he was fine, he was with Emma, he was alive and well and he could grow up – even without me, another part replies.
She has let Rumple slit her stomach open, to save his life.
She'd let the Queen do anything, but that's not her plan. Her plan, is to annihilate her, to make sure she's completely and utterly destroyed, leaving everyone at her mercy.
And there are steps coming down the stairs. High-heels, and obviously, her hope to get Henry to free her and run away, disappear in smoke, before the queen could return – her hope now gone, but honestly, it's not surprising, just another useless wish. Story of her life.
She's still mute, but her gaze darts rage and fire towards her evil double, who is now descending the last steps with a satisfied smile. The queen swirls her hair past her shoulder, stretches her fingers, and tilts her head, curious. "I wonder, how should I kill him?" She comes closer, starts pacing slowly, and Regina follows her with her eyes. "Crushing the heart of the truest believer?" she muses. "It would be fun… and ironic… or snapping his head? Slicing his throat? No, it would get too messy, and I don't want to dirt my hands…"
Regina watches, oh so angry – and terrified, and she doesn't care of her life – because now all these images of Henry dying are appearing in her mind, and she can only wonder which one will become her reality, her doom, her nightmare. And the queen speaks so carelessly of the thing she loves most, as if he was a puppet to entertain her.
Then, she stops listing the various ways she could kill her son with, and freezes in the middle of the room. The smile which cracks open on her face, Regina will never forget it. Because her head inclines towards the floor, and her eyes narrows, and she just knows the queen has had a new idea to make her torture more painful, and she feels pleasure in this, she's like a Roman empress watching a martyr die in the arena.
She lifts one hand, their usual cloud of magic engulfs her, and she emerges from it completely changed.
Now, she's her split image.
The black leather dress is gone, gone is her long hair, and now she's dressed exactly like her – high heels, and silken red dress, and grey trench coat.
"Better, isn't it?" she smiles at her, and it's monstrous, it's like watching at her twin and seeing death in her eyes. Her voice has changed slightly – sweeter, it's not harsh, it's not a murderous whisper – is the voice of when she's content, when she's with her loved ones. It's the voice to fool her son, and she knows she will succeed.
Regina shakes her head, her gaze falling to the floor. She feels defeated, at last. There's no way she can warn Henry, because every one of her struggles will be useless. He won't see the difference until it's too late.
"Mom?"
Her heart skips a beat.
Her blood is cold.
"Yes, sweetheart, I'm down here," the queen calls softly, and she's good at this. She's always been good at deceiving people. Her lips curve into a wicked smile, and she flips her hair behind her ear. She's watching Regina, scanning her body, relishing in the knowledge she will be forced to be quiet, and to watch as she tricks her son in this horrible way. This queen has reached a whole new level of darkness. Without a heart, without shadows of her youth, of horses and stables and smiles, without a glimmer of hope left. She will be like a tornado, a hurricane, sewing a path of destruction. This queen won't be placated by a dark curse, she won't see reason. There's only madness, and pain, and misery.
Henry's steps get closer, and he will reach them at any second now.
Regina feels herself tremble.
And finally, she can see his legs, then his torso, and at last – his eyes.
She thinks she must have her owns widened in fear, and she opens her mouth in an instinctive reflex, but nothing exits, so she spells, moves her lips only, Go away, but there's no use, the queen would catch him everywhere.
He is frozen in the middle of the room, glaring at the weird scene in front of him.
The queen has already plastered a welcoming smile, "Henry," she breathes, and goes straight to him, and embraces him, with a well audible mutter in his shoulder. "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay," she says, and Regina feels tears sting at the corners of her eyes.
He's puzzled, and his eyes dart from one woman to another. She can tell he's confused, because he knows she has destroyed the Queen in New York, and this is new, this is a scenery he wasn't expecting.
"Mom?" he asks, parting from the embrace and scanning the queens' face. "Why wouldn't I be okay? And what… what is she doing here?" he motions towards her with his chin, and a distrustful look she has never seen on him, not even when Emma came to town and he hated her for a few weeks. She just stares at him, and feels one tear fall slowly, but she can't tear her gaze away from him. So she stays still, watching her son, doesn't even try to writhe or struggle.
"Oh," the queen turns towards her, with a hidden, light grin. Then faces him again, "You don't have to worry about her anymore, sweetheart," she says gently, rubbing his forearm. "She's restrained, you see? I've taken care of her," she tells him, triumphant.
But Henry is still watching her, from above the queen's shoulder. "Why is she so quiet?"
Regina's heart jumps – oh, has he understood? He has a strange look on his face, and the queen must sense his discomfort, because she looks at her too. She can tell she's not pleased to see her so still and calm. It doesn't help her little charade –the true Evil Queen, at Regina's place, would do anything to get free, would throw herself towards them. Instead, she is breathing slowly, trying not to fall apart, two more drops of salt water rolling down.
"I've simply taken her voice, Henry," the queen explains. "Plus, one of those handcuffs from Pan's collection. She's quiet because she knows she can't do anything now – she's defeated," she smiles.
Regina shakes her head, and her eyes won't leave Henry's eyes, not even for a second.
"Do you think… I could talk to her?" her son asks hesitantly, and it's suddenly warm in her chest, and she knows this kind of warm. Hope. Her mind backs off, and she mentally scolds herself, she knows better than to give in to hope at this point. Hope is dangerous, hope is a poison.
The queen is watching Henry, and making a decision. She smiles at him, and she knows she isn't happy about giving her voice back, but if she wants to keep the game up… a wave of her hand, and the pressure mollifies, and Regina coughs again, her eyes burn.
"Henry," she tempts, glancing at the queen, her expression is unreadable. Henry takes one step. He stands. "Henry, honey, it's me."
"Ah, of course she's saying that," the queen scoffs. "Come on, your Majesty, stop trying to upset my son," she places a protective hand on his back, but Henry is still hypnotized.
"What do you mean it's you?" he asks, and there's no way she can stop the tears now.
"She… she is the Evil Queen, and I'm… just me," Regina says, she doesn't like the pleading tone of her voice, not in the slightest, but if she can convince him, make him see…
Henry glances again at the queen, and then again at her. "How can I believe you?"
The queen has had enough, because she settles a hand on his arm, gently nonetheless, and smiles. "Henry, you can't seriously consider to believe her," she says. "It could be dangerous, listening to her –"
"No, Henry, listen to me," Regina states, in her best mom-mode, and he's looking at her again. "You know I'm right – Henry, you have to go away, she's dangerous. Please, go, run as fast as you can –" her words die in her throat, because her son looks scared now. The fear of not-knowing, because they seem so alike, and he can't choose.
The queen offers him a reassuring smile, but now he's avoiding her hand, and taking some steps towards the exit. "Okay," he says, and speaks to the queen. "Prove it's you, mom."
"How?" she asks, so genuine, knowing there's no way he could prove she's the Evil Queen – she shares all of Regina's memories, after all, – maybe despises and hates them, but there's no secret she doesn't know, he can't ask neither of them for something only his mom knows, no password, no way –
"I know how," Henry says, and Regina lifts her head, meets his eyes. "My mom has her heart, the queen doesn't," he simply tells them, and everything shifts back to its place, sure, he's right. But still, he's in danger.
The queen sighs, then. Her gaze is sorrowful, as if he has disappointed her. She takes two steps towards Regina, and plunges one hand in her chest – and it hurts, it pains her, she has done this before – she has, multiple times, with Tinkerbell, Snow, Robin – but the queen is not gentle like herself, and clenches her hand deep inside her chest. Her heart exits and glows, and it's of the brightest red she has ever seen, still black around some swirling spots, but red, and that is the proof.
Henry is horrified, and it clicks, in his brain – that his mom is prisoner and powerless, and the queen is standing free and wild, and Regina can only scream "RUN!" before the magic tames his body and the queen freezes him, he didn't even have a second to turn towards the stairs.
The queen still holds her heart, and she takes one step towards him, with a glance at Regina.
And out from her coat, she slides a knife.