She makes you kill her and you've killed before. Hundreds, thousands. You've painted the forest black and red with fire and pain and the look in your eyes.

She gives you her heart and she says pretty words, pretty words you want to believe, pretty words that echo painfully in your chest and it hurts and it's called hope.

(Pretty words are poison. You learned that long before you even knew their meaning, when your mother punished you and hugged you and it was cold, so cold.)

Snow looks at you and there's a spark in her eye and you think that's hope, that's love, that's redemption. You think maybe it would be enough to have your mother love you. It would be enough after everything.

(After I promise and Mother why have you done this and Love is weakness and I just didn't want you to lose your mother.)

You take it and the box feels heavy in your hand and for a second, just a second, you see your mother ripping his heart out and dust flying from her fingertips and you feel your hand squeeze the box and if that had been her heart-

(-if that had been her heart, she'd be dead, dead, dead and you'd still be a killer and you would've saved everyone.)

-but it's not and you have a second chance and Snow gave it to you and it's not enough for you to forgive her, but it's a start and maybe, just maybe everything will fall back into place.


Mother lies cold and still in your arms, her heart in her chest, never beating, still so still and you hear you would've been enough and you practically rip the flesh from her arms trying to bring her back and it's her fault, it's all her fault it's always her fault and she will pay.

She will pay for that spark in her eye and that hope she let fester into you like a disease. She will burn under your palm while she watches her daughter and her Charming swim in their own blood and this town will be razed to the ground.

Long live the Evil Queen.