note: I had a review and a private message last night telling me that the chapter alert didn't work. Thank you to those two people. As suggested, I'm re-updating the chapter in the hope that it'll work. If it worked for you, I'm sorry about the double notification :)
Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I hope this one is okay, I have rewritten it so many times, and I'm still not sure if I'm happy with it.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Ursula wakes with a crick in her neck, her hands freezing against the counter top, and knows that Cruella is dying.
She doesn't move for a long time, just lies there in the dim morning light, the light is grey and watery and everything is grey and bleak in this blasted town.
Roland is a warm solid presence against her side, his head tucked against her elbow, she can feel his breathing rustling her hair, and she breathes out shakily, thinking of what could have been.
She thinks of the magic running under Cruella's skin, of the darkness crawling out of her eyes and down her cheeks, the veins are a warning, a side effect, she's seen it before though she can't remember where, she remembers books in her father's kingdom, of magic and enchantments, and it is dangerous to have someone else's magic inside you, you loose touch with your own, you become trapped in it, in your own mind and you can't get out and the dark ones magic cannot be contained by anyone but the dark one, and it'll tear Cruella apart from the inside, the veins will spread and become cracks and it could take months or years but it won't, because the green witches magic is there too, she has two different magic inside her that should never mix, and Cruella is dying.
She lifts her head from her arms slowly, grimacing as her cramped muscles tense, she rolls her head around slowly until it cracks, and then looks down at Roland, carefully dislodges him from her arm and stares down at him for a moment, the boy is smiling in his sleep, he looks peaceful and happy and innocent and...
She'd had the thought, sitting under the tree with Emma and staring into the sky, that she could get to Cruella and save her somehow, snap her out of it, and then flee before chaos broke out, but she stares down at the boy and remembers the way Regina had made her hot chocolate, the way Emma had listened, the way this boy had talked about change despite not understanding it, the way those three seem to have forgotten that she is a villain, and wonders if she could live with that.
Regina is asleep, a frown between her brows, she looks uncomfortable and exhausted and Ursula stares at her for a moment, and wonders how the Evil Queen became this, a woman who has love and has redemption and has changed, because she remembers the Evil Queen and she sees nothing of that woman in Regina.
She stands up slowly, stretching her muscles, wraps her robe tightly around her, and then scoops Roland into her arms. He's heavy, and it's only once his weight settles in her arms that she actually realises what she's doing. She swallows, hard, her throat constricts and she hates how she feels on the verge of tears so often recently. She carries him into the dinning room and puts him on her bed and he curls up under the covers and his dimples flash as he grins and she tucks the covers around his shoulders and picks up her coat from where she folded it on the table and puts it on over her nightgown, and leaves.
She returns to the kitchen and starts to make coffee, and thinks of a time when her hatred and grief and anger swirled around and around in her head and she felt alive with it, thinks of a time when this domesticity was above her, and she'd had thoughts of taking the ocean from her father in revenge, but she hadn't been able to go that extra step, she couldn't, and in the end all that anger churned and churned and went no where.
There is a groan to her left, and she turns to see Regina lifting her head from her arms, groggy with sleep and probably just as sore as Ursula is, she runs a hand through her hair and rubs at her eyes and peers blearily at her. 'What time is it?'
Ursula glances outside and shrugs. 'Early. Do you want some coffee?'
Regina stretches, her eyebrows raised. 'You're making coffee?'
'You're forgetting that I lived here for thirty years. I had to do a lot of jobs to survive'.
Regina frowns at her, and when Ursula follows her line of sight she sees that her hands are shaking. She doesn't look at Regina again, she makes two cups and pushes one across to Regina and doesn't look at her, she stares into her cup at the brown liquid and she thinks of Cruella in the mornings, groggy and soft without her makeup, her hair a mess of black and white. She'd never been a morning person.
'Where's Roland?' Regina doesn't sound alarmed, and Ursula is wise enough to know that its a sign of trust. She sighs heavily, her fingers clenching around her mug. She doesn't understand why this woman seems to trust her, and part of her doesn't know if she cares.
'I put him in my bed. He didn't look very comfortable here'.
Ursula glances up, and Regina is looking at her with a strangely soft expression, a slight smile curving her lips. 'Thank you'. She pauses, and Ursula can see a question in her eyes, burning, and Ursula looks back down at her coffee, sips it slowly and she lets the steam scald her face. Regina laughs lowly. 'Villains are always more complicated than the stories give us credit for, aren't we?'
She thinks of Cruella and her past and the scars that mar her otherwise smooth skin, she knows those scars because she's mapped them out and with her fingers and her lips, she thinks of the night she found out how they were inflicted, and she thinks of how there are only two reactions she got from Cruella before she knew, the woman either closed up and lashed out and her eyes would burn, or she'd laugh and shrug it off and rub absently at her wrists, she thinks about Rumple's words its time you remember who you really are, she thinks about Cruella reliving those memories, and she closes her eyes. 'You could say that'. She frowns slightly, her eyes still closed. 'You're not exactly a villain, from what I hear'.
'I don't particularly think I'll ever be a hero'.
Ursula sighs and shakes her head. 'I would've thought living in the real world for thirty years would've changed your perspective slightly. Villains and heroes, Regina, are defined only by the choices they make every day. You've killed, and I've killed, and yes, they were 'villainous' and 'wicked' choices. But I hear you've saved a great many lives recently. And heroes… heroes can do terrible things'.
She opens her eyes, and Regina is looking at her with a strange expression on her face. 'Do you really believe that?'
No, no she doesn't, not always, she tells herself again and again that she's not a villain, that in thirty years she has changed and she's tried to be better, but sometimes she wonders if there is a reason why she slips back into that headspace. She smiles, and she knows its sad. 'I try to'.
There are footsteps, and Emma walks, almost stumbles into the kitchen, and practically falls onto the stool next to Regina. She puts her head in her hands and groans, 'do I smell coffee?'
Ursula breaths in sharply, shaking herself from her revere. 'Do you want some?' Emma groans again, and Ursula is glad for something to do with her hands.
She pushes it over the counter to Emma and finally looks up, and she frowns, there are huge circles under the woman's eyes, red rimmed and heavy, and she props her chin in her hand and she looks like she could fall asleep right there. 'You look terrible'.
Emma snorts. 'Thanks very much'. She sighs suddenly, amusement gone. 'I feel it'. She rubs a hand over her face and frowns at her. 'You don't look much better yourself'.
Ursula can imagine what she looks like, tired and drawn, her eyes haunted by a knowledge that the woman she might love is dying. She swallows. 'Cruella is dying'. She can hear the pain of it in her voice, raw and desolate and she's given up caring in front of these two women who seem to understand the things she leaves unsaid.
Regina stares at her. 'What do you mean? I thought they were using her as…' she trails off, and Ursula wonders what she's thinking, the woman has incredibly expressive eyes, and they look worried, but there is something else there, brewing in the background, and Ursula is not used to reading her. Regina clears her throat. 'How do you know?'
Ursula takes a sip of her coffee, rests the mug against the side of her face, and takes a deep breath. 'Its their magic. Zelena's and Rumple's. Well, mainly Rumple's magic'. She pinches the bridge of her nose. 'I remembered something about the sort of magic that they're performing. I read somewhere once that containing another's magic, having it forced inside you without your permission, is incredibly dangerous. Our magic… its part of us, attuned to our souls, and its rarely…' she makes a noise of frustration at the back of her throat. She doesn't know how to explain this properly. 'Look, its like in this world. You can give blood to someone, but if you give them the wrong blood type, you'll kill them. Some magic can be toxic. And Cruella… however evil some people might think her, she doesn't even come close to Rumple's level. She has the magic of the Dark One under her skin, and no one but the Dark One is capable of containing that'.
Regina and Emma exchange a glance. Regina says, 'its fine for a time though, isn't it? People lend each other magic all the time to help power spells'.
'There is a difference between letting someone give you magic and having it forced on you. And… there is a reason why the Dark One has that name. His magic is darkness, darkness from an age where time wasn't measured. No one can contain that for long. It's killing her'.
Emma's jaw tenses, and she takes a large gulp of coffee. Then she looks at Ursula and her eyes are hard and she says, 'then we'll save her before it does'.
She buries her face in her mug and Regina and Ursula exchange a glance and Ursula knows what the brunette is thinking, that Emma has no way of keeping that promise, that they may not be able to, that they may not be able to, that Emma wants to save everyone because she believes she has to, and she has no way of knowing if its even possible to save Cruella, and Ursula opens her mouth to tell her that, but then Regina reaches over the counter and touches her hand, a mere brush of her fingers over her knuckles, and her eyes hold a promise. 'We will, Ursula'.
And Ursula shuts her mouth with a snap, and there is a burning behind her eyes, her throat constricts tightly and it takes her a moment to understand why, why the promise these two women are making means so much to her, but its simple really, and she lifts her cup to her lips and hides her expression behind the steam, and feels herself smiling.
Emma clears her throat and takes another sip of coffee. 'Speaking of magic… this is going to sound crazy but… I had a dream that… didn't feel like a dream. This voice told me that it's possible to strip someone of their magic.'
Ursula raises her eyebrows. 'Thats not exactly an unknown fact'.
Emma chokes, and Regina thumps her on the back until she stops coughing. Her eyes watering, the blonde stares at her. 'I'm sorry, what?'
Ursula and Regina exchange a glance, and Regina shrugs. 'Well the curse did it. People in different realms built devices that effectively blocked someone's power, like the one… Stripping someone's magic entirely is possible... But it has serious risks'.
Emma laughs dryly. 'Doesn't everything we do have serious risks?'
'Not like this'. Regina crosses her arms tightly. 'Taking someone's magic, fully striping it, would take an enormous amount of power. You're effectively stripping someone of something that is embedded in their soul. The consequences range from loosing your own power, to perishing in the attempt'.
Emma is biting her lip, her frown looks almost painful. 'But what if the person whose magic you were stripping wasn't born with it? What if it was given to them?'
Regina stares at her, and she wonders briefly if Emma has actually gone insane. 'Have you lost your mind? Do you know how much power it would take to strip the Dark One of his magic?'
Emma's expression turns stubborn. 'You're powerful, and that cuff effectively blocked your magic'.
Regina turns faintly pale, her expression closing up. 'That was... Different. That cuff used my own power as a battery, if you will. Turned it against me'.
Emma looks guilty, and Ursula decides not to ask what they're talking about. Instead she interjects, 'it could be done, hypothetically. You are the Saviour, so you'd technically have more chance than anyone else, but it still might not work. And it could kill you, the strain of it. It could kill all of us'.
The Saviour looks between them, at their serious expressions, at the way Regina looks almost anxious, and then throws her hands up. 'Alright, alright. Point taken. I won't try. I wouldn't even know how'.
Regina looks deeply relieved. 'Emma, we'll find some way of stopping Rumple. I'm pretty sure your parents wanted to talk about it this morning. We'll find a way'. Ursula doesn't like the way Regina keeps repeating that, firmly, too forcefully, and when Emma breaks eye contact Regina closes her eyes and swallows hard and Ursula understands why.
Regina is trying to convince herself.
She sees everything through a purple haze that clouds her vision around the edges, swirls in her head and everything is wrong, everything is different, and part of her is aware that she's stalking the streets searching for people to turn, to turn so that they can win, so that they can get their happy endings, but that is a distant thought, obscured and unimportant, almost as distant as the voice that screams and screams at the back of her mind, like an incessant high pitched ringing.
It feels strange. Sometimes the wood beneath her bare feet looks like concert, like a road, and sometimes she can hear the clack of heels on stone, but she is bare foot and the boards beneath her feet are worn and old, they creak with each step, and she shouldn't be up this late, her father won't like it.
She has to do what she's told. She has to do this, she needs to, for her family, she has to protect them and this is the only way, she has to protect them or her father will be angry, her father won't like it, and things never go well when he's angry, and she'll have to be brave again and stand in front of her family and take his rage and his anger and whatever punishment he reigns down and she'll do it, even if she doesn't want to, she has to, for her family, for her family, thats what she's doing now, she's eliminating people who can hurt her family.
She's not she's not this is wrong this isn't right what are you doing your family is dead you fool what the hell are you doing snap out of it.
The screaming returns in her head, and she shakes it and continues walking and then stops. A girl has rounded the corner, rounded the corner and stopped and she stares at her with her eyes narrowed. She knows this girl, she thinks, this girl with soft brown hair and wide alarmed eyes, she knows her, but she doesn't, she's never seen her before in her life.
There are voices whispering in her mind, arguing, and she stands there and waits and the woman begins to back away, and the voice is a single voice in her head, 'we need her, darling'.
She lunges forward and her hand fastens around the woman's throat and she feels the magic escape her lips, raw and powerful (wrong) it's under her skin and she'll never be helpless again (it's not hers, she is helpless, she's trapped) and the woman goes slack, her eyes curling with her magic, and she feels a thrill of victory that does not belong to her.
The voice speaks in her head again, instructions that she repeats to the woman whose eyes are still desperate, still frightened, and she knows her, she does, and that voice is screaming at her again and her hand reaches out involuntarily and touches her shoulder and she can feel her mouth forming the words i'm sorry and then pain shoots down her spine from the base of her skull and she falls to her knees, still repeating instructions, and she's on her hands and knees on cold floorboards, and she looks up and its her father with his hands clenched and malice in his eyes and her siblings are sobbing behind her and she is doing this for them, and there is thick carpet under her hands, its the man her father sold her to, good looks and fine bones and cruel, cruel smiles, hands that hold her down and pierce her skin, and she has to do what she's told, be good be good be good.
The screaming stops.
Ursula enters the dining room after an indulgently long shower to find everyone gathered around the table. She stops in the doorway, patting at her damp hair with a towel, assessing the image before her with an unamused expression.
Snow and David are seated at the head of the table, Regina and Emma at the other, Robin sits beside Regina and Hook sits beside Emma, and Henry sits next to him and Roland is there too, tiny Roland who smiles brightly in welcome, and she nearly laughs at this poor imitation of a war council.
She leans against the door frame and crosses her arms, the towel hanging loosely from her fingers, damp hair tickling her neck. 'I didn't think that children would be invited to a war council'. Her voice is dry and unamused, because there is such a formal seriousness to this situation that makes her want to laugh, Snow and David are trying to take charge and she wants to laugh and she wants to cry because she can't see these two winning, this time. And if they loose, she looses, and she is not ready for that, she can't loose, not after the realisation she came to last night, that she could be (she is) in love.
Henry laughs, but turns it quickly into a cough when Snow sends him a look. The woman turns to Ursula, her jaw working. When she speaks, its with a clear attempt at being civil. 'Maybe you should take this more seriously, Ursula. You have a stake in this outcome as well'.
It feels like a threat, and she can feel her tentacles uncurling and snaking down to the floor in response, though her face remains impassive. Snow watches them with a hint of apprehension, but Ursula says nothing. She can't stand talking to the woman any more than she can stand looking at her husband. She circles around the table and sits down next to Roland and the boy beams at her. She smiles softly, she can be soft and kind to this boy, because he was kind to her, and she doesn't care if the others see. He nudges one of her tentacles with his foot, curious and innocent, his hands hovering over them, and she looks up to see Robin watching her. He doesn't look threatened, or even mildly worried, and the smile he gives her is just as trusting as Regina's, open and warm. She doesn't understand these people.
She watches Roland for most of the meeting , watches the way his hands drift towards her tentacles, always stopping shy of touching them. He seems aware that it would be pushing a boundary, that he can't because its invasive, and there are very few people in this world or those she has left behind who care about making her uncomfortable, who care about invading her personal space, and Roland, little Roland who hesitates to touch her, he is one of the few.
She can feel eyes on her, and she props her head on her hand and refuses to look up to check who it is, and listens to the buzz of conversation that is slowly turning into an argument, Regina is saying, 'Emma you don't have a chance against Gold, you know that. You're powerful but you're not experienced enough'.
'And you don't have much of a chance either, Regina'. Emma's voice holds a note of frustration, frustration and anger and desperation, and Ursula wonders whether they ever thought this could happen, whether they ever thought it would come down to this one day. She's gathered from Rumple's bitter words that they had accepted him for a time, some of them, naive Snow and her husband, they'd believed that he'd help them as Henry's grandfather, and she feels a wry smile filtering across her face, how could've they even trusted him for a second, how could you trust someone with evil in their veins? Because as much as she's tried to tell herself that the world isn't divided into the black and white of Cruella's hair, as much as she's tried to believe that people aren't as simple as good and evil, she knows the truth of Rumple's magic. Maybe he isn't evil, the man on the surface, the man Belle fell in love with, but his power comes from the darkness on the edges of your vision, in the depths of your nightmares, it comes from the darkness that was here before, before time, and that darkness corrupts, twists even the best of intentions.
She cuts across the arguments, tiring of this, of listening to them argue and tasting the despair in the air. 'Why don't you go after Zelena?'
She looks up finally to see everyone staring at her. She sighs heavily.
'I'm not a fool - I know that your first priority is not Cruella. But, think about this logically. You can't kill Rumple. You may not even be able to beat him into submission. But if you go for Zelena, you take out his ally, you break the enchantment on Cruella, and Rumple will be left to face Regina and Emma alone. And me, if one of you doesn't kill me accidentally first'. She looks around at them, and she can see that they know she's right, but of all of them, Regina looks the most reluctant. 'Look, we don't necessarily need to kill the woman. We just need to take her out of action. Regina, you've defeated her before, I'm sure with you and Emma fighting her you won't have much of a problem'.
'And Rumple? What brilliant idea do you have for taking care of Rumple?'
Regina shoots David a thoroughly irritated look, but its Henry who speaks. 'I think Ursula's right. Her plan does seem to involve less risk. Like putting one of you against each of them'. He gives Regina a significant look, and she smiles slightly, and Ursula wonders if Regina still believes, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she needs to prove herself, wonders if the woman believes she has to take on every threat single handed, because there is something odd about the anxious way everyone watches her.
Emma speaks, and it sounds quiet after all the shouting. 'The only thing is, how exactly are we going to get her alone?'
Ursula fades out, she can feel a headache growing at the base of her skull, pounding steadily away, begging for her attention. She puts her head in her hands and presses the heels of her palms into her eyes and sighs heavily. She hates how this feels like delaying, like these people have no idea what to do, and they know it, and they're afraid, and this plan is just a way to make themselves feel better, a way to feel like they're doing something.
She feels a small hand on her back, and Roland is looking at her, concern in his large brown eyes, she tilts her head and looks at him, and sticks her tongue out at him and he giggles and her heart aches. When this is all over, if, not when, they survive, she thinks she'll try and find Mal, because she wants to see what happened to the child they gave up, wants to see whether she really was given the best chance. She never asked Mal what she thought of their decision, whether it angered her or whether she understood, and she wants to know.
There is a frantic knocking on the door, loud and incessant, as if someone is pounding away with as much strength as they can muster. The group exchange glances. They rise almost as one and Ursula sits there with Roland and doesn't move for a moment, she can feel a prickle of unease creeping up the base of her spine, and she sits there for a moment and watches as Emma reaches for the gun at her hip, and decides that maybe she's not the only one who is a little paranoid.
She gets up and stays in the doorway, keeping herself between the door and Roland. She's thinking of the baby she was tasked to protect, and couldn't, and that the child's life could have been ruined because of that.
Regina opens the door and Belle stumbles over the threshold, panting and breathless and clearly exhausted, as if she's run for miles.
Belle looks terrified, her eyes are wide and desperate, and Ursula is reminded of an animal caught in the headlights, with no where to turn, frozen up.'You have to come, now'. She sounds just as desperate as she looks, but there is a forced calm, as if she's trying to hold herself together.
Snow puts a hand on Belle's shoulder, concerned and worried. 'Belle, what is it?'
'He's got the Author. Rumple's got the Author and he said…' she trails off, swallows tightly, 'you know how things work with us. He came to find me to tell me that tonight he's going to make his move. He said that tomorrow there'll be nothing left to worry about'.
Ursula closes her eyes, a thrill of cold fear running through her. She doesn't know how this Author's magic works, doesn't know if Rumple does either, but the thought of the Dark One with the Author in his grasp is almost as terrifying as the thought of him becoming the Author. She thinks of her happy ending that almost was, and the happy ending that could be, perhaps, she doesn't really know what it is but she knows that it involves Cruella (it has always involved Cruella) and right now she thinks she be pretty bloody happy just knowing the other woman was safe. The idea of a happy ending had bothered her a child, and it still does to an extent, because happy endings imply endings and she doesn't believe that an end can ever be happy.
David jerks as if Belle's tugged on a chain, jumping into action, he's a fool, such a fool. 'We have to do something then'.
Robin looks as exasperated as Ursula feels. 'What do you want to do, go charging out with all weapons blazing?'
David puts his hands up to his head and grows in frustration. 'I don't know, Robin. But we need to do something. We don't know what the Author is like. We know he has a vendetta against villains, I'll accept that, and maybe he wouldn't want to willingly help Rumple. But maybe you've forgotten that thanks to Cruella, he doesn't need to be willing'.
Ursula hears a strange sound escape her own lips, somewhere between a hiss and a snarl, she can feel her lips twisting and David looks rather alarmed. 'Did you forget the part where she's being forced against her own will, Prince?'
David stands his ground when he shrugs, and she can see the stubbornness that Emma so often displays there in his eyes. 'Maybe I just don't believe she's not doing it willingly, Ursula'.
There is a heavy silence, and she can feel all eyes on her, and there is unspeakable rage churning in her gut, churning and churning and she thinks that maybe she will snap, she hates this man and his stupid hero complex, his inability to understand that sometimes villains can be victims. She raises a finger and points at David and he flinches as if she's struck him, and her voice is low and furious. 'I came to you, to all of you, to help you. To show you that I meant no harm. More importantly, I came to you for help. Maybe I shouldn't have got my hopes up, after all, we know what happened when Maleficent went to your darling wife for help'. David opens his mouth to retort, he looks ugly when he's angry, his face turns blotchy and his mouth twists down, but she cuts across him. 'We have formed something of an alliance. I would think that you'd be wise enough to keep to that'.
Emma cuts across any further discussion. 'Guys lets just… this isn't really the time, okay? We need to figure out what to do'.
Hook speaks up, 'shouldn't we just leave it? I mean… the Oracle said that Emma would fall under Cruella's magic, and that the Dark One would gain the Author's magic from there. As long as we keep Emma away from Cruella, things shouldn't take that course'.
Ursula sighs shakily, anger still raging inside her. 'Its not that simple. Yes, avoiding confrontation would probably prevent that outcome from happening. But Rumple still has the Author, which means that he can still make him write things for his benefit. Its almost the same thing'. She doesn't voice it aloud, but there is a hint of relief colouring her emotions. As long as Rumple needs absolute control over the Author, he will still have use of Cruella. Becoming useless to the Dark One is a dangerous thing.
'Please', Belle's voice is low and desperate, almost a whine, and everyone jumps, having almost forgotten she was there. 'You have to do something'.
Regina swallows thickly, and she hasn't spoken at all since Belle had entered the house, and Ursula can see something churning behind her eyes, something unreadable and heavy and it makes Ursula uneasy for the woman. 'Do you know where he is?'
Belle nods frantically, and Ursula has the strangest desire to reach out and stop her, she looks a little like a rag doll, her head lolling loosely. 'Yes. They're at the cabin. Look, they don't know you know. They don't know that you're here'. She looks at Ursula, and there is dislike in her eyes, but its quelled, and this girl has more common sense than both David and Snow put together. 'There are three of them and they're very powerful, but now there is also three of you'.
'Belle has a point'. Snow takes a deep breath and turns to face Ursula and she looks resigned. 'We will need your help for this. Are you with us?'
Ursula ignores her. She turns to Regina instead and says quietly, 'if we fight them and I get close enough, there is a chance I could break the enchantment on Cruella'. She sees Henry look at her then, a slight frown between his brows, and she wonders what the boy is thinking. 'Knowing Rumple, he's less likely to want to actually fight. He'll probably stand back and let Zelena do his work for him. If you and Emma can try and at least restrain her, we'll have a better chance'.
She's said her piece, she's had enough. She's had enough of this fake alliance that only Emma and Regina seem interested in holding, and their individual promises mean the world to her, mean something, but the rest of it, this acidity and bitterness and just wrongness grates at her, she can't stand it, and there is anger boiling inside her that she needs to release.
She crosses the foyer and leaves the gathering, crosses towards the back door, and she doesn't stop until she's standing under the apple tree. She closes her eyes and tilts her head up and wishes that it would rain, that the tension would break, that she could feel the wind in her hair, anything to remind her of the sea. She folds her arms tightly, and breathes deeply, and tries to calm down.
Her father used to say that she had the power of the sea running in her veins, and when she was angry it was the sea at its most violent, tossing waves and churning currents, and sometimes she wonders if there was a truth to his words. So she takes her anger, and bottles it up, and saves it. If her anger is power, she might need it.
'Ursula?'
She turns, and its Henry, the boy she's barely interacted with, the boy that looks like Regina despite not being her son. She says nothing, just raises her eyebrows, unsure what he is here for.
The boy seems to hesitate, and she finds she almost curious about this boy, this boy adopted by the Evil Queen, who turned her into the woman she is today. He takes a deep breath. 'How are you going to break the enchantment on Cruella?'
She frowns at him. She doesn't know how much Regina has told him, or how much he has gathered. This boy is not Roland, too young to really understand her, and just young enough to do just that. This boy is nearly grown up, and he understands that the world is grey. She wonders whether he looks at her and sees a villain, or whether he looks at her and sees someone capable of the same redemption Regina has. So she's honest. 'I don't know'. I think you do Regina's words echo in her head, and maybe she does, maybe she does love Cruella, but love is… love is one thing. True love? Thats an entirely different concept. And she knows what this boy is thinking, knows what Emma was thinking the other night, that she loves Cruella and she should be able to break the enchantment with that, but its not that simple, it never is, that sort of thing never works for villains.
She thinks of her words to Regina that morning, about choices, and wonders how many times she'll have to repeat them until she really does believe them.
Maybe she loves Cruella, and maybe she doesn't. She wants her alive, wants her safe and well and she wants her out of those memories that will drive her mad. She wants the happiness she once had with her, she wants to hold her and touch her and to apologise, desperately, honestly, she wants to drag her as far away from all this as possible, she wants…
Henry is watching her with his head tilted, his expression surprisingly unreadable for a boy of his age. Her eyes are burning, and when she blinks, she feels a single tear slide down her cheek, and she nearly laughs at the dramatics of it all. 'I don't know, Henry. And before you say anything, I don't think what you're thinking will work for this'.
He raises his eyebrows, and its such a Regina expression, exasperated and almost amused. 'Why? Emma told me that you broke through last time just by touching her. Thats powerful stuff'.
She's thought of a dozen explanations since that moment, and none of them involve what the boy is implying. 'Henry… love is a rare thing for us villains — '
Henry cuts her off, and she sees Emma there in his expression. 'My mom was a villain. A lot of people still think she is. But she loved me, even at her worst points, she loved me. And she's learnt to love others. I used to… I used to believe that she was evil and that was that and she couldn't love me because of it. I hurt her a lot. I think - I know, that villains are capable of love. Maybe they give up on it because they're so used to loosing'.
Her laugh is choked, almost a sob, and she hates it. 'Well then, why should I even try?'
Henry frowns. 'I don't know your story, Ursula. I don't know Cruella's either. But since you've been back, all you've done is try to help. Cruella tried to warn us, and got hurt because of that. Those are both good choices. And I think, it really comes down to choices. Maybe you're a villain, but that doesn't mean you can't do heroic things'.
She stares at him for a long time, his words ringing in her head, so similar to what she told Regina, and says nothing. Henry holds her gaze and doesn't back down and she wonders if thats Regina, or Emma, or both. 'What is the point of all this, child? Is there a particular reason you're telling me this?' She sounds so, so tired, and she is, she's so tired of all this fear and all this talk. Maybe it would be different if it was Roland, because she can shrug it off as naivety, or Regina, because she knows how Ursula feels, but this boy is something of a mystery, something of an enigma, and it almost makes her uncomfortable, listening to him talk.
He hesitates. 'Maybe the heroic thing is to save Cruella. Maybe, because you're doing good, it'll work for you'. His expression becomes ernest. 'Maybe you are a villain, maybe you're not anymore. But if you are, that shouldn't stop you. Villains are still capable of love'.
And Ursula closes her eyes and says nothing and eventually she hears the boy leave, and she tilts her head up and her eyes burn and she tries to ignore it, tires to, and is unsuccessful, because the problem is not that she doesn't believe she can love, because there is a part of her that knows she can, knows she does. The problem is that for true love's kiss to work, the other person has to love you. And Cruella doesn't love her.
Sometimes the images flicker, her memories change and shift, swirling around in the black smoke, and she looses track of what is real, and what is not.
There is a woman there, in her memories, filtering in and out of focus, just out of her reach, a woman with beautiful dark skin and hair that smells of the sea, a woman dressed in green with tentacles that curl and shift around her. She has golden eyes, and they glitter in her memories, glitter and sparkle and smile at her, and she feels something pull and tug in her heart, something painful.
The darkness in her head latches onto that pain, and she stops looking forward to those memories, she sees this woman and feels pain, deep in her heart, the pain of a wound long since inflicted, and never truly healed.
She remembers little things, sometimes, hands that are soft and strong, the strength of the sea, the smell of it, sand under her finger nails, warmth and safety and tenderness that she has never known, she comes to the conclusion that these memories do not belong to her, they cannot, because she's never known love and she's never known safety, and those feelings fade away and she's back where she belongs, her father chastising her for day dreaming, striking her sharply, her husband gloating over what he's won, and loss, loss, loss, thats all she knows, those memories are not hers.
There is a whimper at the back of her mind, a sob that sounds exhausted and broken, and she wonders where it came from.
So, what do you think? Good, bad, terrible?
I hope its clear that some parts are from Cruella's point of view. As for her backstory, I'm sure that its becoming clear, but I will probably expand on it more later.
As always, constructive criticism, and suggestions, are welcome.
Please review! :)
