And Tomorrow, You Will Be Queen: 1
Yawns escaped the child's lips as she zipped and tied into her long white gown. Sleep had not come to her in what felt like a fortnight, but how could one sleep when there was so little time left to truly be alive? She had never had happiness under the hands of her parents, but the little bit of freedom that did come to her on rare occasion would no longer be around to give her even the smallest emotion of excitement. She clasped the long necklace around her neck and imagined the pearls wrapping around a young Snow White's neck, choking her until her skin turned blue and the air was cut from her completely. Because of this damned soul, any hopes of true love was a closed book, any pieces of hope that she picked up over and over again were stomped on. The time would come for Leopold's daughter as soon as she had the moment in private to lay her hands on her vile skin. She would know what it felt like to have the life taken out of your body slowly and painfully, for no person was ever too young to suffer for their poor choices.
Calloused hands brushed against her pale flesh in an attempt to soothe her and give her temporary relief from the pain that lied ahead. Her father had once been a man with integrity, a man who stood up for what he believed in. He was now reduced to a puppet who's strings were attached to his wife's hands, no longer knowing how to find his own direction or show the uplifting sides of his true personality. He watched his teenage daughter ,still just a child herself, in an elegant white gown, about to be married to a wretched King who's only wish was to defile her and yet he did nothing. Deep down he was aware that the guilt would lie forever on his heart but he had to do what was right to push his family into the title of royalty. He and his wife would have all of the riches they could desire, benefiting from their broken spawn and the pleasure the King would receive from her. His wife could have all of the attention and grandeur she desired and would hopefully let go of the unhanding grasp she had tightly around his throat. He had expected Regina to run to him the way that she had before, trying to find comfort in his embrace, trying to look to him for an uplifting smile. Today she did not.
"How could you allow this Father? How?", she said dryly underneath her breath. Her mother had always had an eye on her even when she thought she was alone, teaching her the importance of keeping her voice down. His head bowed down in silence as she pushed his hands away from her cheeks, not willing to feel his love and even less willing to accept his excuses.
"My dear Regina, you know how I love you.", he said with uncertainty backing his plea.
"If you loved me you would not sit back and watch her torture me so!" Footsteps from across the marble tile quickly made their way over to the father and daughter two seconds after she had raised her voice. A strict hand grabbed her shoulder and long nails dug into her flesh, almost enough to break the skin.
"How dare you speak to your father in that tone!" She released her grip quickly, reminding herself that her daughter was to be married in just under half an hour. Regina watched as her father turned away without a hint of expression, ready to let his daughter go to ease his own personal abuse. Cora brushed the young girl's skin lightly and tried to make the scratches disappear as quickly as she could. What would others think of her if there were marks upon her vulnerable skin? Surely the mother of a Queen was to be a loving one after all.
For once in Regina's life she didn't feel afraid of the woman in front of her. Maybe it was because she finally met someone who was going to hurt her more than this woman ever could, or maybe it was because she already felt like she was walking towards her own death. In a way, death almost seemed like a better substitute than living out the pain well into her elder years. If her life continued, she would spend eternity being handed off from vile fingers to heart-wrenching words of hate; it was hard to tell which one would be worse.
"Now, straighten up your posture. You are to be walking down the aisle in just ten minutes."
"No I'm not!" Regina grabbed her mother by the wrist and squeezed as hard as she could; she had no idea what she expected to get out of this act of rebellion but it helped release a bit of the underlying anger that molded her into who she was today. With the flick of a finger, the child felt her arm go numb and fall to her side, a spell taking the place of her strength. She had expected for her mother to punish her physically, do anything to show her that she had stepped out of line, maybe even to end her life. Nothing is unexpected when you're under the reign of someone who is used to hurting you daily. Not a touch was placed on Regina's body but the cold stare of her mother reached just half an inch from her face. She could feel the hot angered breath against her nose and could see the wildfire in her eyes as she whispered in the most hateful of tones.
"Now listen here girl. You will obey me and you will put that smile on your face and walk yourself down that aisle. I'm doing this to help you and instead you try to run off with a common peasant like the whore you are? You will turn around and walk and you will keep that smile on your face or I promise you the breath you are inhaling now will be the last one you ever take. Do I make myself clear?" Regina cowered at the words spat against her quivering lips and tired eyes, knowing all too well that her mother was correct. She was a whore, she was a sorry excuse for a daughter and she was going to be married to King Leopold before the clock strikes again, there was no questioning on the subject.
"Yes mother."
"Good, now stand still while I fix your unkempt hair, it's repulsive." She tugged on her daughter's hair with hard pulls, trying to pin it down properly while showing that she still had the upper hand on the child. She had never been one to use the graze of her fingers for anything but punishment and anger-fueled reciprocations. Regina stared at herself in the mirror during these final changes to her appearance and took in the view of herself, a bride-to-be. A young child full of exhaustion and anguish costumed as a woman with great dignity and the finest intentions, made up as pretty as a wind-up doll that would soon be touched and broken by a man with the mind of an adolescent. There were no more tears to come from her shimmering, make-up covered eyes; there were no more shakes to leave her frightened hands. In just a moment's time she will grow from a member of flowering youth to an isolated, crumbling adult.
In her wonder-filled dreams, a wedding had taken place many of times between her and Daniel. They stood hand in hand at the altar before exchanging the words that bound them together for better and for worst of moments. They shared a passionate kiss and embrace before leaving the chapel and escaping to a honeymoon full of pent-up lust and beautiful scenery. He would hold her in his arms and tell her all of the things that always brought a light into her eyes, he would protect her with everything he held dearly so she could at last have a life worth living. They would not live in a world of royalty, but there was no need for frivolous things when you had the power of infatuation to guide you. She would be a homemaker and bear his children, raising her sons to be as successful and humbled as their father, her daughters to be as kind and gentle as their mother. In an evaporating cloud of happy wishes, the gasp for air and sweat on the skin would awake her from the dream every night, a cold reminder that you cannot marry a ghost.
Waking up from reminiscence of her unconscious state, she could hear the sounds of muffled wedding music from beyond the hallways where she stood, her heart beating with pangs of anxiety and bouts of rage. With a clear of the throat from her mother she held on to her father's arm, exchanging no words with the man who is sending his daughter away, no love to the man who is allowing this sin. He daren't speak or look towards her direction in the fear that he may lose control of his composure. That wide-eyed infant he once held in his arms and soothed to sleep was now to be wed to a man old enough to be her grandfather, sick enough to use her at his disposal. He found comfort in the thought that this was not his wrongdoing and it was not frowned upon in this society; it was what royals were to do.
Regina was ready to scream, to beg and plead with him to not let her go; to offer anything she possibly had to give to allow her to live the way she always had. Her mouth stayed silent as she knew well that her wishes would never be granted. There was no turning back time; there was no walking away when the grips of torture dragged you forward.
Today, she will be queen. Yesterday was gone.