A/N ~ I'm not even sorry. Well, I mean, I am but if you hold on it will all be worth it
10.
The door groaned on its hinges when Emma pushed it forward, fingers resting tentatively on the pommel of the sword at her hip. Regina held her breath, gaze wandering cautiously as she followed her inside, steps measured and careful on the wooden floor. Inside, the cabin was dimly lit, stiff curtains drawn over the windows, and the rectangle of light falling from the doorway illuminated the dust motes swirling in the air. It smelled of mead and moth balls. Crumbling books cluttered shelves, tiny phials and jars of strange substances. Regina didn't want to know what they were. The wooden floorboards protested at her every step.
"Close the door, my dears." From the shadows across the room, a rough voice called to them, unsurprised as if she had expected them. It made Regina uncomfortable, but she steeled herself and turned to do as she bid. In closing, the door was quiet, and the room was dark as ever.
Candles burned on low stubs of wax in glass jars balanced precariously around the room –with all the paper and wood about, Regina didn't think that was wise. Her eyes soon adjusted to the muddy orange light that flickered across every surface. Emma shot her a glance. Regina nodded, and cleared her throat. "May we speak with you?"
An unimpressed grunt answered. "What do you want?"
"We heard you can change peoples fates." Emma said, as she stepped forward slowly. Regina could see her fingers still ghosted warily over the grip of her sword.
"Bah." The voice replied, gruffly. "Well, I'll have to read your fortune first and that'll cost you. All magic comes with a price, you know, even humble magic such as mine. In fact, I think I'll charge you extra for barging in without an appointment. It's just bad manners. I'm sick to death of you youngsters and your problems. Make him love me. Make me brave. Make me rich – well, you don't know problems. None of you. And when next war comes, you'll all die like flies." Regina and Emma exchanged a look. "Well, come closer then. Let's have a look at you."
They stepped closer as one, hands seeking each others' warmth in the shadows and holding tight, like when they were tiny. Emma's familiar, calloused skin was sobering. Regina studied the woman in the chair in the corner, absorbed the hard, tired eyes, the frayed shawl, the wiry hair. She was every bit the storybook witch, Regina thought, but whether or not their story was a happy one or a tragedy she wasn't sure yet. Emma shot Regina a sideways glance before clearing her throat and speaking, wrapping her fingers tighter around Regina's. "We'd appreciate your help."
Regina nodded, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Yes. You see, I'm to be married soon, to a rich and powerful man that I don't love. I don't even know him, honestly, and –"
"Hold on, alright, alright," The woman grumbled, sitting more upright in her chair. "So eager. I'm old. I've got pains, you know." She settled, eyes running over the two of them. Regina saw her gaze linger a little on their entwined fingers. She steeled herself, gaze flickering defensively. She sighed heavily, as if saddened. "Well, give me your hand, girl, and I'll find out what I need to know before I can do anything."
Regina looked from Emma to the woman, confused. "Why do you need my..."
"Blood, girl." She snapped impatiently, holding out her own hand with expectance. "Just a prick and it'll tell me everything."
"No." Emma interrupted suddenly. Regina turned to stare at her, but her gaze was set firmly on the supposed witch. She was breathing heavily. "You can have my blood instead."
A low chuckle rose from the woman before Regina could object. It was a bizarre sound, rough and rasping, like stone on stone. "Oh, that's very sweet, dear, really, but it's her marriage, so it must be hers." Her eyes darted from Emma to Regina. "Of course, if it's your future together you're asking me to fix then I'll need yours as well."
"Yeah, we want that." Emma nodded.
"Okay." Regina conceded cautiously, and then extended her hand. "Mine first."
She could feel Emma's gaze on her as she watched the woman draw a long, thin needle from some pocket in her blanket. The woman took her fingers lightly in her own, touch cold and rough. She winced slightly as the needle pressed into her skin and then broke it, watched the bead of scarlet well to the surface. The witch reached for an empty phial, holding it against her skin and turning her finger so the blood dripped into it, three drops. She dropped Regina's hand, and reached towards Emma. "You next dear, if you're still so intent on your foolish devotion."
Emma fixed her with a killing stare, holding out her hand. Regina watched with baited breath; this woman looked irritated, but when she drew the needle and pressed it to Emma's fingertip it was no different to what she'd done to hers. Regina winced as if it had pierced her skin again. She twisted Emma's finger to drip the blood into the same phial as Regina's. She stared with fascinated horror as the woman tilted the phial to her lips. And then she drew in a sharp breath, and her eyes clouded over and Regina frowned intently, because she knew she was seeing their future. She gripped Emma's hand like a lifeline.
After a long time, the witch gasped like she was coming up for air from the ocean. Regina looked to Emma, anxious. She swore her heart stopped beating for a moment. Did she really want to know? Yes, yes she did. Whatever she knew now didn't matter because she was going to change it. She was going to fix everything. Regina forced herself to speak. "Well?"
"There is a shadow, girl. There are many shadows." Her voice had harnessed a harsh, deep quality, something far beyond the tired old woman's gruff tone. It crawled across Regina's skin, unnerving and cold, slithered beneath it to lay against her bones. Her stomach tightened. She stared. "But I see the sun. Yes, the son will rise. The crimes of the miller's daughter will not end with her, actions stain like the bruises. Lose yourself in the tides of time but never heal. Two queens you shall be, different in method but equal in greatness. You will find light in the shadow of death. Waves, angry in the moonlight. Two weddings. Death under the stars –" She stopped abruptly, blinking several times. She cleared her throat: it seemed she had woken from her trance.
Regina glanced sideways at Emma, breath heavy in her lungs. The other princess was watching the woman cautiously, angrily. "Is that it? What does that even mean?"
The woman chuckled gruffly. "You tell me. Now, I've felt your fortune. You'll have to pay well to know what to do about it."
"We can pay whatever you want." Regina assured her. "Both our families have plenty of gold."
"You think I want gold, stupid girl, for a way to alter your fate? Bah." The woman grumbled. "It'll be something meaningful, thank you very much. I'll want a lock of hair from you both, and the first words you ever spoke to each other."
Emma shot Regina a wary glance, before turning back to the woman. The air was very heavy, thick with anticipation and magic. "And that's all?" Emma pressed. "That's your price? We pay you that, and then you'll help us?"
The old woman opened her mouth, but she spoke no more. The crossbow bolt protruding from her chest saw to that.
For a moment, it was as if time was frozen. An infinite second where Regina wasn't aware of the clangour of the door being thrown open, the thunder of heavy boots over the groaning wood floor, the blinding white light stabbing in from the open doorway. She was just standing, staring as the witch choked, dark stain spreading out across her blanket, eyes flashing, until they flashed no more. Then time woke up; and Regina spun in horror. The men were pouring in, at least a dozen of them, dazzling light glinting sharply off their mail.
In her thoughtless panic she'd jumped in front of Emma, and in the same second Emma's hand grabbed her shoulder, pushing her roughly behind her. Her sword was drawn. It flashed in the light. Regina stared, mind blank with white panic. The men, the dead woman in the corner, she was going to help them and now there was nowhere to run and it was two against so many, and her heart was pounding and why, why?
The pieces of the picture didn't fit together until the soldiers parted for Mother.
She stepped into the doorway with a small cold smile plastered on her face. The hem of her gown skimmed the dusty floor. Around, the soldiers had become still, attentive. Ready for command. Emma was beside her now, blade drawn defensively, face contorted with shock and fear and anger. Dust motes swirled slowly in the light. The old woman's blood was dripping on the floor, a steady rhythm. Regina's heart had frozen over, motionless, somewhere in the bottom of her stomach. "Mother," She heard her own voice saying, very thin and far away.
"Come, Regina. It's time to go home." She said, tone harsh and brittle. "Let's stop all this silliness, hmm?"
Regina didn't quite realize what she was doing until she said it. "No." And then, firmer. "No."
Cora's mouth tightened in annoyance. "I didn't want to do it this way." She stepped back slowly, out into the world, waving one hand airily. "But so be it. Seize my daughter." Her eyes hardened. "And do what you must to keep the other one from interfering."
Everything leapt to life.
Emma lunged forward, sword swinging up to meet the first lunge with a deafening clang. Regina threw herself further into the dead woman's room, grabbing at anything she could find and weaponize. The phials and jars did nothing though, witch's brews or not, shattered pointlessly against armour. There were three of them fighting Emma now, swords slashing and biting. She was holding them off, roaring and grunting, but there were dark stains blossoming all over clothes. Regina was shouting, she didn't know what, the words didn't matter, only the resistance. Gloved hands were closing around her mouth, her wrists, her stomach, holding her back and Emma was flagging now, each block more sluggish than the last and there was nothing Regina could do about.
She twisted violently in the grasp of Mother's men, kicking, driving elbows and fists anywhere they could go. With a shout, Regina managed to wrench free long enough to scramble across the room and grab for anything, anything. Emma had stopped making so much noise. Steel crashed against steel, louder than her pulse. It didn't matter. There were pinning her wrists to her back and there were so many, she couldn't move and Mother was still smiling.
As they hauled her away, with tears gathering thickly behind her eyes, the last thing Regina glimpsed was Emma, sprawled across the dusty wooden floorboards, chest rising and falling raggedly, sweat-soaked hair falling in her face, and the blood blooming on her shirt. She would have sobbed, but the hand pressed to her mouth took the sound.
And rage was all there was.