Timeline: 2x10 The Cricket Game; Regina accused of killing Archie. Please ignore everything that happens after the dreamcatcher scene, I go AU after that and veer very far from the original storyline.

I do not own any of the characters on Once Upon A Time.

TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic Violence/Torture/Rape. Please, if you are uncomfortable with any of this, do not read this fic.

Eventual SWAN QUEEN.

I appreciate anyone who reads this! Reviews/advice is greatly appreciated. This is my first fanfic, so I'm excited to hear what you think. My tumblr is LovingOnce. :)

Thank you in advance!

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The Cellar

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Ch. 1- Taken

...

"May I help you?" Regina breathes dryly as she pushes open the front door to her home. It is 10pm and the sky has left no sign that there was once a sun lighting the streets of Storybrooke, Maine. It had descended earlier than expected in the evening, leaving the night air a crisp cool that in this moment kisses her skin as she steps onto the concrete of her front porch. She had just finished dinner and heard a pounding radiating through the walls of her home. At first, she ignored it, feeling as though whoever would truly want to speak with her would either call her- or already be screaming at the door threatening to break it down, as seemed the custom of her witless enemies, but when the bell rang in a relentless ding, she sighed in defeat and made her way to the entrance.

"Good evening. I presume you are the Mayor, Regina Mills?"

She stares idly at a tall man in the shadows; foreign as he glares at her with light eyes. He sports a wide smile and gives her a once over from head to toe before resting his site at her mouth.

"Former," she firmly states, unamused, pulling at the hem of her black suit jacket, "if you need to speak with a person from Town Hall, I suggest you wait until morning and find someone that is willing to help you," she spits, turning on her heels, leaving the man in awe at her forceful nature. She almost purses her lips at the disgust she feels in thinking that someone else has been running the town she built. She had spent so much time producing the perfect quaint little settlement; her office in the Town Hall building being the very first thing she created. Her pride at such an office came from having chosen wallpaper that was reminiscent of her enchanted forest. One in which no one but her would have understood the correlation.

She feels the rustle of the wind blowing at her hair as she makes her way into her home. A sigh escapes her lips in annoyance for being disturbed at such an hour. She grabs the frame of the door with her left hand to shut it behind her, but before she can, she feels a tight grip on her upper arm that forces her to let go of the door and turn around in haste.

"Ma'am, I suggest you let me finish. I have some important information regarding one of your residents…an Emma Swan. I was told you should be the one to see."

"Excuse me," she says tugging at her arm until he releases his grasp, "Who are you?"

"Who I am is of no concern, but what I know may be of more interest to you and this town you created."

'This town you created'- The words echo in her mind. It seems a distant cry from what the townspeople would think. She manages a smile before making way for the stranger. Her head tilts in an attempt to look humble, "Please, do come in." Her eyes are trained on him as he whisks past her. She looks up into the sky, noticing that not one sound is coming from her sleepy town. She sighs and closes her eyes for a brief moment, hoping that this man will tell her something so awful about Emma Swan that it will save her from having to share her only son. Taking in a deep breath, she turns and makes her way into her home, closing the door behind her with a soft push.

...

...

"Regina! Regina, open up!"

The sun beams high in the early August morning as Emma, Snow and Charming stand outside of Regina's front door. The hammering only grows louder when Charming takes the lead, "Regina! We know what you did! You can't hide anymore!" He slams his fist onto the wooden door, watching it jump back at him with every hit.

"Maybe she isn't home," Mary Margaret states calmly.

"The hell she isn't. She knows what she did to Archie and has been laughing at us this entire time." Emma stands back before starting, "Move. This door is coming down." She makes her way to the edge of the steps of Regina's front porch, trying to give herself some momentum. She starts for the door and it is her shoulder that makes first contact. It doesn't budge. Her face contorts in pain. "Holy shit, " she breathes out slowly, bending at her waist.

"Here, let me," Charming says, "I've done this before. You have to use your feet to kick this door down or else you are just going to hurt yourself."

"Thanks. You could have warned me earlier... like when I said I was going to run at the door."

"Sorry," he laughs.

In a beat, the door has swung open and the three of them barge into the house. Emma leads the way, Mary Margaret and David in tow. Once up the few steps that lead to the main foyer, Emma stops abruptly; the change in pace making Snow bump into her.

"Emma, what is it?"

Slowly, Emma moves aside, allowing Snow and Charming to see the destruction of Regina's dining room and home office. Tables have been turned, wood smashed and broken glass coats the tiles. Emma walks on, hearing the crunch under her shoes as she looks in disbelief.

"What the hell happened here?" Charming whispers, furrowing his brows.

"Regina!" Emma screams, looking around.

"Emma, don't."

"Yea, knowing Regina, she is probably still angry at whatever or whoever made her do this, so lets be careful," Charming murmurs.

They make their way up the stairs to the second floor of Regina's home. Room to room they search, quickly sweeping through the large house. Emma notices how preserved the rooms look and scoffs. "Seriously, this is kind of creepy how she has all these rooms and it's just her and Henry. Does she really need all of this space? The four of us squeeze into an infinitesimally smaller apartment," Emma whispers looking around.

Snow smiles at Emma, endearingly. "If Regina does anything, it has to pack a punch or she doesn't bother..." Her voice trails off as they enter Regina's main bedroom.

"It doesn't look like she is here or like she even slept here at all last night. You know, I'm really tired of this happening with her," Emma states, raising her voice to a normal decibel as she sits on the bed in defeat.

Snow looks around; her sight resting at a picture of Henry on Regina's nightstand. She lingers on the photo, thinking that perhaps that could have been her at one time, had Regina not lost Daniel. Perhaps, the Queen would have harbored the same warm emotions for Snow and they could have even been friends.

"Everything is so...clean," Emma says rolling her eyes in a sigh.

Snow smiles, knowing too well who Regina is now. As a child, she would watch Regina reprimand the help when her possessions were moved even an inch in the wrong direction. Regina liked her conformity, as it seemed to be the only constant in her life, so Snow knew that her bedroom in this land would be no different.

"She is very particular. Why don't we go back down?"

They leave the room and make their way down the hall to the steps. Once near the bottom, Emma pauses briefly, using her hand to steady herself as she hangs over the railing. The home is even equipped with a chandelier, which to Emma's displeasure is just a way of showing status. She shakes her head in contempt as her sight lands on something on the wall behind the front door. She squints her eyes toward it.

"You ok?" Snow asks, confused at the look on Emma's face.

"Look... by the door. There. Do you see that?" She stares for a moment, pointing.

Emma propels herself down the steps, reaching the door with a loud exhale. She wraps her finger around the knob and, with a slight pull, allows the door to close itself.

"Oh my god." Snow gasps, covering her mouth.

There, by the entrance, is a handprint smeared down the wall; underneath it a simple sentence, written in blood: 'The Queen is Dead.'

...

...

The air is damp. A chilling breeze nips at her skin, exciting the light hairs on the nape of her neck; it hurts- sore from being slumped over for an indiscernible amount of time since she had been fading in and out of consciousness. She can feel her back ache as she straightens her spine, whimpering in mild pain at the injustice of such a position. Her eyelids skid on her cornea when she opens them slowly, forcing her to shut them tightly in an instant in order to will a tear out to lubricate the dryness that has been forced upon her in the cold. It seems almost comical, how easily she can tear. So many years of obligated emotions have taught her how to manipulate her body, so that she could obtain anything she desired.

Her breathing is heavy and she can now see the frozen air in her sharp exhale linger in front of her. The wall behind her is a wet concrete; it only helps her feel a small sense of relief when she pushes her body into it to awaken her senses.

Regina doesn't recognize where she is. Her mind is hazy with a jumbled recollection of what occurred prior to waking up on the ground. She scrunches her nose as the events come flooding back in jagged fragments and, as if the memories are stabbing her temple, she instinctively raises her hand to press her tingling fingers to her forehead.

Thump.

Startled, her eyes fly open.

"Ahhhhh," a small tortured voice whispers in what seems an exhale.

She gasps, looking down at her hands, realizing they are cuffed; tied to a heavy metal chain. She studies them, trying hard to piece together any image that can help her remember how it came to be.

Nothing. She exhales in frustration.

Rattle.

"Hello? Who's there!?" she asks loudly, trying to keep her composure.

The sound continues, louder this time; screeching against serrated concrete.

She stares into the far corners of the room, but darkness engulfs it, reminding her of how powerful shadows are; the same shadows she used to stalk many of her prey with. Regina knows the tactics of a captor. Her adulthood has been showered with so many memories of watching her victims suffer.

The sound stops suddenly and the room remains an eerie calm.

She can feel her heart beating. So many years as a queen has taught her to keep her beat steady; it is almost instinctual to keep calm during moments that demand intense vehemence. She takes a moment to survey the room.

Despite the darkness in the far corners to her right, the room is lit with a dull light that delivers a bluish gray hue. She reasons it is because the walls are colored as such; the light itself is a natural white. The room is barren to anything except her own body and the warmth it emits; the floor is hard as it is the same rugged concrete that makes up the walls. She studies her chains, noticing how they attach to the wall through an open hole that she suspects works like a spring, allowing her to walk a certain distance and coiling back upon her return. She raises her hand once again; a headache is beginning to take root in her.

Regina is especially calm, knowing that whoever has her captive will have to face her at some point to either demand something tangible from her or to kill her. Having those two scenarios in mind doesn't leave much to the imagination. She knows it takes time to build fear in a victim. She has had her fair share of tortured captives. Until now, anyone who has attempted to kidnap her has done so for one simple reason; one that is obvious to anyone of status and she suspects it is that reason that has her locked in this room. The sigh that leaves her is heavy. She stares straight ahead to the only entrance the room has: a thick metal door with a small latch window.

"Reginnnaaaa," a voice reverberates in the darkness against the moist, coarse concrete.

She flinches, darting her eyes around the room, realizing that the voice is coming from the only corner she cannot discern with her tired eyes.

"Whoever you are, I am in no mood to play your games," Regina says dryly. She doesn't bother to ask how it knows her name. Everyone knows her name. She motions her hand to smoke away her chains with magic, but to her surprise nothing happens. She clicks her tongue, irritated, as she looks at her hands.

Impulsively she freezes, opening her eyes wide as she peers up toward the door. The circumstances have suddenly become almost palpable and her heart begins to pace a bit faster. Her breaths come in sharp as she heaves her arms forward in a feeble attempt to release the chains from the wall. She knows now that she cannot simply escape. Whoever has her in this dark abandoned room knows how to manipulate the only thing she has to offer- power. Every notion she had of a negotiation has changed.

There is only one purpose for her in this room and that is to die.