Here ye be, lovelies! I'm seriously in love with Zelena. Definitely need to do more fics with her in them.
Song: No Light, No Light by Florence and the Machine and Heaven's Doors by Scarlett Grace (Awesome Canadian artist I just discovered, so you should go check her out!)
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rumpelstiltskin asked the moment the cabin door opened.
Zelena stepped inside, still garnished in the lavish if wet clothes. The man glared at her from the table where he sat, relaxed outwardly with a hand on his cane and the other braced at the edge of the table. Inside, barely contained wrath swirled in his dark eyes. She smirked and closed the door, unhurried by his anger. He watched, face flushing more with each passing second. Plucking each finger deliberately, Zelena removed the velvet gloves and tapped her chin with the tips as she awaited the punishment to come.
"More to the point, how are you doing it?" He corrected.
Zelena tapped her chin one more time and tossed the gloves onto the table. "I've regained my magic." She leaned both hands on the table, predatory and baiting. "You may keep my pendant. It's merely a souvenir of our wasted years."
Gold struck out. A high-pitched yelp slipped past the hand on her throat, more moan of pleasure than whimper of pain. She exhaled slowly through her mouth and gave him an open-mouthed smirk. Her breath caressed his lips and nose. He froze, paralyzed by his need of her, and she chuckled. With two fingers, she touched the inside of his wrist and pushed his hand away, unconcerned, and brushed past him to set the kettle over the fire.
"Where's Belle?" He demanded.
Zelena pursed her lips over her shoulder. "I killed her," she said with an indifferent shrug and turned back to the kettle.
"What?" His deep, controlled voice slithered into her soul, sucking the life from every molecule of air in her lungs.
Zelena ignored The Dark One and moved to the herb shelf. She shook her favorite mixture into the mug and kept her spine straight. The entirety of her flesh crawled from the oppressive energy emanating from him. She turned, not surprised to find maniacal eyes an inch from hers. Smirking, Zelena bumped his chest with her shoulder and returned to the kettle. He followed, silent, calculated.
"I was under the impression you'd run out of people you love," she taunted him. He raised his cane, and Zelena held up a finger, clicking her tongue twice. "Careful, wouldn't want me to lose my memory of the portal spell, would we?" Her hand splayed over his chest, fingers slipping beneath the lapel of his jacket. "Your insipid little princess can't help you anymore. I believe that makes us partners…" she grinned, a broad, ugly maniacal thing, "… Dearie."
Shoving him backwards, she waved a hand over her head and presented her back. "Get the hell out of my home. Come to me when you're ready to begin the next stage of our little debacle. Do knock next time."
Gold tapped his cane on the warped wooden floor, and her head turned slowly over her shoulder. "If you think for one moment, I will allow you…"
"Allow me what?" Zelena challenged. "This, Dark One, is how it must be. If you hurt me, threaten me, exclude me, or betray me, you'll have no time portal. I came crawling back to you after The Savior took it upon herself to recreate the wounds you inflicted after healing me. The darkest and lightest sources of magic in perhaps any realm have both betrayed me. From this moment, I serve only myself. You are merely a means to an end, nothing more."
Rumpelstiltskin flipped wavy brown hair from his eyes and sneered, flashing a gold tooth in the flickering fire light. "I'm going to need a bit more than your word, Dearie."
"I suppose you'll simply have to trust that my hunger to leave this frozen hell is stronger than my thirst for vengeance," Zelena said, bored as she poured hot water into the mug.
He snorted, a grin tugging at his lips. "You never sought vengeance."
Emerald eyes raised slowly beneath a downturned face. "I suppose, you've found your answer, then."
"You were supposed to be my secret weapon, emphasis on secret," he snapped.
Zelena shrugged. "The Savior couldn't be trusted any longer. She would have told them about me. Better to make a grand entrance than skulk about in shadows, don't you think?"
"And whose fault is it she was in a position to tell anyone?" He accused.
She tsked and waggled a finger in the air. "Goodbye," she chirped and primly lowered herself into the chair he'd vacated. He stared, she sipped tea and returned it.
"Did you honestly believe The Savior would risk the comfort of her world to love you?"
Emerald eyes closed, opened slowly, unmoved by the ugliness of his question. "I think I may have forgotten a word of the incantation. Incredible the effects of stress on the memory. Isn't it?"
"You're dancing on thin ice," Gold warned her and disappeared in a swirl of dark gray smoke.
Zelena rolled her eyes and unpinned the hat scratching her head. With a little finagling, she unclasped the dress bodice and pushed it over her shoulders. She sucked deep cleansing breaths previously denied by the dress' tightness. Cool, soft buckskin replaced crinoline and lace. She slipped a knife into the waist and pulled on the coat with dried blood. Leaving the lavish dress over the chair, she glanced around the cabin fondly a long moment before setting to work. She rolled the mattress padding into a tight bundle and tied it off with twine. She stuffed blankets and herbs into the large black knapsack, taking necessities of survival. She attached the bedroll to the strap. She took the kettle outside and sat it in the snow to cool. While she waited, Zelena lifted the loose floorboard and lifted the items one-by-one, displaying them on the hearth – Belle's journal, a few letters she'd written with no one in mind to receive them, a few drawings she'd done in charcoal, and an old rusting baby rattle.
She tucked the letters and sketches into the journal carefully and then added it and the rattle to the knapsack. The drawstrings sounded much louder in the stillness, startling her. Zelena retrieved the cold kettle and attached it to the bedroll with some twine. The strap settled across her chest and shoulder, pulling her thin body to one side slightly. She hefted the burden into a more comfortable position and released a deep silent breath as she looped the quiver of arrows in an 'X' over her chest and squeezed the bow tightly. Without looking back, she left the fire to die in the home and walked into the setting sun.
She followed purple and orange, climbing higher and higher until pink clouds grazed her fingertips at the top of the treacherous ridge. Snow and ice slipped, taking her knees to the simultaneously soft and hard ground. Digging in the bow, the witch ascended the steep mountain, pressing her back to trees to comfortably catch her breath in the thinner air. No one without magic or unskilled in wood travel could have followed her. At last she reached a rope she'd attached weeks prior to the top of the mountain and guided her body up the remaining slope. She pushed on instead of stopping when she reached the top, racing the coming night. Footsteps heavy with the weight of the life on her back followed the ridge where only the toughest of conifers still stood strong in the dense, frozen wind of the Maine weather. Flecks of ice tore into her cheeks and nose in harsh gust that pushed against her body, slowing the strong muscles fighting the elements.
Darkness descended upon the mountain top, followed by twinkling stars and a waning moon. She turned right on the path and carefully picked a trail down the opposite side of the mountain until she came to a small tunnel opening that barely fit her load and required her to hunch uncomfortably. She clicked on a small flashlight and worked her way over the stone and frozen mud towards the barely there light at the end of the tunnel. Her back screamed and sweat beaded at her temples by the time she arrived in the large cavern at the end of the obscured opening. She dropped the quiver and knapsack unceremoniously and moaned into stretching muscles.
Along the wall, supplies that she'd spent months collecting in the event such as the one she'd currently found herself comforted her. She found a long grill lighter and tore it free from the cardboard and plastic packaging. The fire pit she'd prepared a few weeks ago waited for the strike of a flame. The dry tinder lit easily, and she added more until the glow of orange danced around the cave.
Finally, finally, she spared a glance at the glassy blue eyes staring at her from the far wall of the cave. Without words, she stood and pulled the knife from her pants. Belle shifted and squirmed, but the twine binding her legs and hands prevented much movement. Zelena grabbed her arm and slid the knife into the binding. Belle lashed out, nicking her thumb and Zelena's palm with the blade.
"Stop it!" Zelena grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. The librarian's head snapped back, and she whimpered around the gag in her mouth but refrained from screaming or fighting against the strong fingers digging into her arms. "I'm not going to hurt you," Zelena added, softer.
Blue and green met in quiet understanding, and Zelena waited until the muscles beneath her hands eased. Belle nodded, and the witch picked up the knife. "I'm freeing your hands," she explained and slipped the knife under the twine again. Belle pulled the piece of fabric from her mouth when Zelena moved to her legs. Blue eyes watched the witch cut her free, and she rubbed her wrists absently, confused.
"Don't put me there again," she begged.
"I never put you there in the first place," Zelena muttered and left Belle to clear the pieces of slashed twine from her body. "I left the lantern in case you woke before I returned," she added and turned off the kerosene-fueled light.
"Thank you," Belle managed around the sob threatening to spew over her tongue. She shivered and rubbed her arms for warmth.
Zelena grabbed a blanket from the stockpile of items and tossed it to her before filling the kettle from a jug of water along the wall. She set it on a flat stone almost in the fire. Belle wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and watched the witch move around the cave. She opened a can of something and tore off the label before adding it to the flat stone. She glanced around the cavern, taking stock. A huge wall opposite Belle had a massive stack, several rows deep, of split firewood. To her right, stacks of bottled water, canned food, blankets, candles, jugs of kerosene, and other food items like potato chips that felt more like a splurge than a necessity lined another wall.
"Where did all of this stuff come from?" Belle asked, curiosity stronger than fear. It looked like the bunker of a doomsday prepper than an isolated cave in the Maine mountains. "It must have taken weeks to gather all of this."
"It did," Zelena answered, distant in her own mind. The witch glanced over at the scared woman who wiped snot and tears on the back of her hand. Belle looked calmer the more she spoke. Zelena sighed in frustration. "The night stock person at the grocery store smokes. He leaves the backdoor propped and goes around the corner of the store. I wait for him to come out and then hide in the stockroom until he takes a pallet into the store."
"Crafty," Belle murmured and glanced around again.
"Would you like some tea?" Zelena offered and groped through the supplies until she found a reusable thermos. She added the blend from her bag as the kettle began whistling.
Belle jerked at the loud noise and covered her ears. Zelena ground her teeth and pulled on a leather work glove before grabbing the kettle. As the screaming faded, Belle slowly lowered her hands, not bothering them the indignity of pretending the sensory deprivation room hadn't damaged her. Zelena handed her the tea, relieved when she took it without fuss, and returned to the supply pile. She moved a couple things around until she found a bag of cheap, plastic cutlery and tore it open. With the gloved hand, she picked up the soup and took it to Belle, setting it on the floor a foot or so from Belle's grasp. She removed the glove and left it beside the can, stuck the spoon into the soup.
"It's chicken noodle," she explained. "I suppose I might have asked if you liked it," Zelena backpedaled, unsure how to engage with the other woman.
"It's fine," Belle assured her quickly and reached for the glove as Zelena backed from her hand.
"This is your line," Zelena said and pointed to a divot carved into the stone floor. "I've set a barrier spell with your hair. You cannot cross it, and you cannot be found through magical means. It would be quite a painful experience should you touch it, so I advise against such foolishness."
"Ruby will find me. She'll follow my scent," Belle reminded her, proud that she'd found the upper hand.
A knot of dread tighten in her belly when Zelena smirked at the statement, reprimanding the thought condescendingly without saying a word. She turned away, and Belle breathed again. She studied the witch carefully from the other side of the line. She'd marked the area clearly and gave it a wide enough birth to reach the warmth of the fire a few inched from it. Zelena wandered back to the knapsack, uninterested in her assessment and pulled out a few items before emptying the sack of blankets. The first few items returned to the bag's obscurity and was tucked away in a corner. Zelena disappeared down the tunnel, just far enough to feel alone but close enough to find her way in the flickering fire light.
She leaned against the wall for a moment and then gave her weight to it as the reality of her world crashed upon thin shoulders. When her butt landed on soft clay, Zelena hugged her shins and buried her face in buckskin as silent tears streamed down cold cheeks.