The torches that line the tunnel wall light, flicker into life with a whoosh, the stairs close with a rumble behind them, Regina has to put Roland on his bare feet, her arms feel as though they will fall off from carrying him. The little boy grabs at her hand and when she jogs he does his best to stay beside her, his bottom lip trembling.
"Regina," he calls right before he trips, she lifts him before he can touch the floor, lifts him by the grip on his hand, saves him from a scraped knee and the boy is once more in her aching arms, held there tightly as he sniffles, his arms wrapped around her neck, holding on with all the strength in his little body.
"It's alright," she thinks she says, soothes him, though her heart is beating madly, wildly in her chest, "hush now, Roland."
They emerge into the library, there are no windows in this room, and it reeks of mold and decay, there is the drip of water somewhere, but Regina does not know where, a coldness seeps through the air, even as a raging fire comes to life in the hearth on the opposite wall. Regina feels a couch cushion, is glad she'd checked before putting Roland on it, it's got a spongy feel to it, makes a squish and a pool of water grows around her fingers before she draws them back.
Regina puts him on his feet once more, he whimpers when his feet meet the cold stone, the wet cold stone, Regina kicks her shoes off, has the boy put them on his own feet before she kisses the top of his head, a mumbled reassurance thrown to him before she bounds away, grabbing at books, tomes larger than her ribcage, searching for the right one, the book bound in white leather.
Eighteen, she'd only been eighteen when last she'd been here, Leopold had held her by the back of the neck the entire way from her quarters, in frustration she had broken everything made of glass in her room with a blast of magic, and he'd been in the hall and heard the noise and looked at her in the middle of the wreckage and had smiled before grabbing her, and then he'd shoved her so hard all the wind had been knocked out of her when she hit the edge of the couch. The white book had been sitting on a pedestal, covered by a glass dome, Leopold had lifted that dome, blew the dust from the book and ordered her to read it, to learn it, his great-grandfather had been the last in their blood line with magic, and he'd been the last to spark the shield. But now we have you, he'd said, had smiled at her, his smile warm and genuine, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes deepened, he'd looked so glad, a sorceress of our own, he'd said.
She'd been instructed to stay in the library until she'd read the book in its entirety, three days she was in this library, no food had come to her, and she would not disobey him and so she had gone hungry, at least there was a washroom, a toilet for her to use, Leopold returned on the fourth day. She'd read the book, she promised, and he'd smiled and taken her on the very couch that was now a moldy moist wreck, bent her over it, the violent smack of skin on skin filled the room and she'd bit her lips, had held in the pained cries, she had not been ready for him but he did not care, and he had, after two years of marriage, told her he found her crying distasteful, to enjoy or be silent, and so she was silent. An heir, a prince, a King, with magic pulsing through his veins, Leopold had a glint in his eye just thinking of it, the power a King like that could wield, he'd said.
He redoubled his efforts to plant an heir in her after that, after learning she had magic.
She shakes all the memories away, fights the urge to burn this library to the ground, the white book is no longer on the pedestal, she can't remember where she'd left it after finally reading the last page, she thinks perhaps she'd flung it? Tossed it aside somewhere?
The floor is free of books, there is a puddle in a corner, nasty discolored water from which the majority of the smell is emerging, Regina runs and checks the couch again, empty, the two armchairs, empty. She must have put it on a shelf, and the thought has her groaning, the shelves are twice her height, the rolling ladder attached to the wall is rusted at its wheels, the rungs bent, weakened by the water in the air.
"I wanna help," Roland whines, shuffling up next to her in his borrowed shoes, they are far too big for his little feet.
"I need to find a book, Roland," Regina says, hands skimming over bindings, there are numerous white books, she pulls each out and when she finds it is not the book she seeks she lets them slip from her hands and onto the floor, returns to her search, "it's a white book, it has a fox on it, the fox is wearing a crown." The boy shuffles away from her, to another shelf, "It's big, Roland," is the last thing she says to him before diving back into the search.
The sound of books hitting the floor is loud, along with the incessant drip drop of water meeting water. It must be in one of the lower shelves, she doesn't remember ever touching the rolling ladder and she flings the books, white books that aren't adorned with that stupid crest, away with more and more force as times goes by.
Roland finds it, cries out her name sharply, she turns to him, finds him holding the huge book with both hands, tottering towards her, the book is wider than him, about as heavy.
"Good, Roland, beautiful boy," Regina murmurs, takes the book from him and, unmindful of the cold and wet, she sits on the floor, tearing through the pages.
It's in Elvish, each page cramped with inane words, the ancient history of this castle and the Lords that have sat in it, a trailing and confusing family tree that ends three generations before Leopold's birth, it's filled with useless spells, one entire chapter is dedicated to the lineage of a favored dog belonging to King Leom, an ancestor of Leopold's that had left no heir, she'd read it all though, afraid Leopold would test her on it, he never had and it was only later that she'd learned he didn't read Elvish at all. Regina finds it, the only useful thing in the entire book, the page holds a detailed drawing of the castle, as it had looked at its first construction, smaller then it is today, she flips through, devouring the words from the page, and it's just as she remembered, no hidden instruction, no forgotten step.
The ripped page mocks her, she fiddles with the torn edge, and it's not till Roland has his tiny hands on her forehead, soothing the crease there, that Regina is aware that she's scowling.
She gives him a smile, it's small, it's strained, before she turns back to the book, her fingers run over the ink, whispering to herself.
'The Spark ignites the latent left behind', it says, 'and power beyond earth and heaven merge in the inbetween, will come to life within the stone', it says, and Regina is scowling once more. The Spark had awakened it, and it should never have fallen, 'a spark, of royal blood will bid it sleep, weep and have it sleep or wake, of royal blood must-,' after which the page is torn, the rest of the sentence lost, she pushes the book off her lap; it's all riddles, endless nonsense.
Regina crawls after the book she's thrown, intends to pick it up once more, when a loud screech comes from the tunnel, the entry way and only exit to this room.
She stands, gathers Roland up in her aching arms and listens, the shattering of stone cracks through the air, has her flinching back, the monkey's scream louder, derisive and taunting and the shattering stone becomes louder.
The room is warded to block exit and entry through magical means, she feels a fool, a rat in a trap, she'd thought no one knew of this library, and clearly was wrong. "Roland," the boy is trembling in her arms, she runs to the farthest corner from the entry way, the darkest corner, farthest from the crackling fire in the fireplace, the boy has a handful of her hair and dress when she plops him on his feet, "Roland, stay right here," she begs the boy.
He's shaking, crying noiselessly; terrified eyes flinging from her, to the entry way, the monkeys are making their way through the tunnel now, their screams echoing in the small space.
Regina leans forward, kisses him on the forehead, eyes slammed shut, Mother's Shelter her mind remembers, she has never tried this spell before, the Mother's Shelter, she'd read of it in one of Mal's books, had scoffed, but Mal spoke of it as the world's strongest magic, neither light nor dark, just pure, a mother's devotion. Regina had tilted her head at that, at the look on Mal's face, the earnest admiration written on the Dark fairies features, because Regina's own memories of her mother did not speak of this devotion, this awe inspiring force, the spell is meant to be a mother's ferocity and protection wrapped up in a physical barrier, to keep her children safe.
They are trapped in a small space, she needs for Roland to be safe, from her magic and the monkeys both. Harm will not come to him.
She does not know if it will work, and after three seconds she presses her lips more fervently against him and he stands there, hands in her hair. Her son, she thinks, and thinks of Henry, but it's Roland she must think of, the boy had wormed his way into her heart, past every wall and barrier (it hadn't been difficult for him, she knows, she'd let him breeze through, a ray of sunshine to her lonely soul) she had in place. She loves the boy, his little hands, his smiling face, his beautiful shining soul, innocence, purity, the child is a wonder, she loves him, deeply, truly, but her son she thinks and thinks of Henry.
The monkeys draw closer; they are scraping their claws against the stone, a painful sound in Regina's ears. Roland did not come from her womb, Henry did not grow in her body, they do not share blood, none of her children have shared her blood, but the love she feels is real.
It's real.
She can love them both, she does, she loves them both and loving Roland does not mean she loves Henry less, she logically knows, but it is painful, acknowledging that Roland has taken a piece of her mother's heart for himself. The love is real and Henry and Roland flash through her mind, her beautiful children, they each have dark hair, are built for sunshine and happiness and she loves them so so much, it grows in her chest, a balloon filling to burst and it's real.
It's real.
But still the spell, and it should spill forth from her, a wave of tangible love spilling right from her heart, her soul, does not realize.
She lets out a ragged breath through her mouth, breathes brokenly cupping the back of the boy's head, her lips still pressed against his forehead.
Is this the truth of it? Her love has never been enough in the past, should it surprise her now?
Harm cannot come to this child, her child, this beautiful child and Henry and Roland play in her thoughts. All her children, she thinks, and a voice calls from the back of her mind, a sweet young voice, a round pale face, Snow had called her ' mother', but Regina had never been the girl's mother. She hadn't, a nursemaid certainly, a Kings whore most definitely, but never a mother, she had never loved the girl, she didn't, she didn't.
The girl had called her 'mother,' had loved to play with Regina's hair, would spend hours braiding it, putting flowers in it, Regina would read aloud and sit in the sun, in the flower garden, and let Snow play with her hair.
'I have black hair just like you,' the girl had often said, as if it made concrete their connection, solidified Regina's role as mother to her. The girl was twelve, Regina sixteen, a child playing mother to another child, the whole thing was obscene, a mockery of motherhood, yet still her sweet voice rings in Regina's mind, 'mother'.
A sob breaks free, and the monkeys are chittering, it almost sounds like laughter, they are close, they must be meandering, gleaning some sick sadistic thrill from the anticipation of what they must think will be a slaughter.
Her children, another sob breaks free, all her children.
The girl had been sick once, pneumonia so severe it almost claimed her, and Regina had sat by her bed for hours, had tended her, hadn't needed too, there were servants and healers, and Leopold surely had not seen the need, though he had been distraught and nearly consumed with madness over the cruelty of the gods, but Regina had sat by Snow's bed (had sobbed in the night and clutched the girls hand Snow please she had begged in the night).
All her children.
A sharp tug pulls on her heart, a wave of something crashing out of her, and her lips leave Roland's forehead with a gasp, she puts a hand to the wall over his head, her legs weakened. The wave is warmth and safety, amber and solid, love, it is love pure and untainted, a mothers love, it splits into three; one wave flows over Roland, a second skin, before it fades away, unseen but waiting, one flies away up at the ceiling, flings through the stone, and the last wave flashes through the wall. "Regina," the boy is pulling at her hair, pulling so badly he's tugging some of it out by the roots.
She shushes him, pats his cheek, "It'll protect you, dear," she kisses his forehead again, no magic, just her lips against his skin, "protect all my children," she must turn away from Roland when a monkey chatters; two have entered the library, their stinking breath puffing in the cold, yellow decayed teeth displayed in a smile that is all sharp fangs and twisted glee.
"Close your eyes," she tells the boy, straightens to her full height, and without shoes it's not nearly as impressive as she'd want, her toes are numb against the cold wet stone. Regina cannot turn away from the monkeys to see if Roland does or does not heed her wish.
She throws a massive ball of fire, it skims one of monkeys, it screeches and only becomes more enraged, they are large up close, as big as her, one even as tall as Robin, with their wings extended they take up the entire space, they rush her, Roland is screaming at her back and it's a jolt of something hot and fierce straight to her blood.
it's a blur after that,
there's motion and noise and air fights it's way in her lungs, before stinging its way out
blood, between her fingers, hot and gushing, it feels right there
fire fills her hands, there's a screech, she's thrown back she thinks, cracks against the wall, head rebounding off the dark stone, the wet stone, she falls into that nasty puddle and incinerates it all with a wave of her hand, fire fills the room, and ROLAND a voice screams at her and she sucks the fire in just as quickly, gasping and one monkey makes the mistake of walking towards the cowering child left unprotected now that she's been thrown across the room
her mind turns blank, blank, empty,
it's darkness,
(there's screaming, snarling, from far away, orange light, white light, screaming)
no sound
(there are chunks of brown fur, spurting red blood, flashes of the black stone walls, and that white book splattered with blood, that silly white fox with his jauntily tilted crown is speckled with blood, staining the leather of the centuries old book)
no sight
blank
Her eyes blink, they are scratchy, dry and irritated, Regina blinks. She aches everywhere and she's shivering, her teeth clattering together, she is drenched in sweat.
Regina's hands are covered in blood, up her forearm stained red, it's already tacky on her skin, there are corpses on the floor, two dead monkeys, Roland is attached to her leg crying, she's panting and holds her hands up before her face, confused. There's something in her hand, something red and squishy and she throws it away in disgust, a kidney, she flings the kidney across the room and it lands against the wall with a splat, spurts blood, and falls to the floor. Regina tries to wipe the blood off her hands and onto the moldy couch.
"Regina!" the boy wails.
Regina picks the boy up, stumbles, trips over a monkey's wing, just the wing, the monkey she'd torn it from, breaking bone and tearing flesh, is feet away and missing half its face, it's been burned away, Regina turns her gaze, tells the boy once more to close his eyes, but he has seen….whatever it is she had done, she'd flown into a rage, her rages had won battles, destroyed towns, killed whole swaths of armies, she cannot imagine what the boy has seen, she had not harmed the child, she checks him, running her hands over his body, she had not harmed him. But he has seen, but what had he seen in her snarling demented face, she doesn't know because he still clings to her, little arms wrapped around her neck, he is not afraid of her.
She runs down the tunnel, finds the ruin of the stairs, and has to climb through the rubble. One arm wrapped around Roland, the other trying and failing to find purchase on the fractured stone, she falls, crashes down the rubble pile to the ground, tries to protect Roland with her own body.
Regina lies there, panting and shivering, until she hears screeching, monkeys, she rises, cries out when something clicks in her knee, but she walks forward.
Of royal blood, the book had said, right before that torn page, of royal blood, and Regina had never questioned it, but it's flashing before her now, royal blood, she wants to sneer, Snow, her mind supplies, Snow is all that is left of the royal blood this castle was meant to house.
"Fuck off, rabid god damn-!" a gruff voice screams, hollers more like, and Regina turns a corner.
Grumpy has a sword, he holds it as if it is a pickaxe, which is the entirely wrong way to hold a sword, and looks surprised when the monkey side steps his attack. Regina flings out her hand, fire erupting, a white hot ball of flame, it shoots at the monkey, who turns, feeling the heat, right before it strikes him. Grumpy lands a fatal blow at the monsters neck as a hole is burnt through the screaming and flailing beast.
"Thanks, sister," the dwarf spits at her, pulling his sword free, but then he turns is head fully, looks at her, his bearded face creases further than usual and he jogs to her. "Hey," he calls, he holds his sword in one hand, the other coming up to grasp her arm, she hadn't even realized she was stumbling before his steadying hand was on her. "Fucking Christ," he says, steps closer, "What the hell happened to you?"
Roland whimpers on her hip, he's slipping down and she scuttles him back up, "The battle?" Regina asks, and pins the dwarf with her flintiest glare.
He glares right back, but his hand doesn't leave her arm, "You look like Carrie at the fucking prom, lady," he tells her.
She tears her arm free, her back meeting the wall and Roland whimpers again. Grumpy watches her, that glare and frown stuck on his face, "Do you know what you look like, dear?" she sneers, "Because I assure you, Dove for Men will not be offering any spokesman deals, Dwarf," he's speckled with blood and something that looks suspiciously, and smells exactly, like monkey excrement. She's sliding down the wall, heavy and still panting; she's shivering hard, her teeth clattering.
He surprises her when he barks out a laugh, glare still in his squinty eyes.
By that time she's halfway to the floor, eyesight blurring, she needs to get to Snow now, has already wasted too much time. She straightens, as much as she's able.
Royal blood, she needs the royal blood.
Her magic sweeps her away, Roland and her surrounded with purple, the inbetween, and she focuses on Snow, on that amber magic that had spilled from her own heart, and Regina appears right next to the girl. And almost gets stabbed through the face for her trouble.
"Regina?" Snow shouts, pulls her hand back at the last moment, and good, because Regina would not have been able to dodge the blow, can hardly stand, she's shivering still, weak and Roland slips down her form, she tries to break his fall, does a little but he lands hard on his little feet, only one of his borrowed shoes remain.
"Snow," Regina says, the girl is unharmed, but she's frowning, her whole face tilts downward when she frowns, "I need for you to raise the shield."
"I," the girl shakes her head, and David is handling a monkey only steps away, Ruby, in wolf form, has a frantic monkey in her giant jaws on the other side, "Regina, I don't have magic, you know that!" Snow says to her, turns more fully towards her, her frown growing deeper as her eyes flick up and down Regina's form.
Roland is attached to her leg, she can feel his chest constricting in hiccups, soft sobs, she pets the top of his head, "Keep your eyes closed, dear" she orders the boy, he nods against her thigh. "Snow, in case it has escaped you-" Regina says, and the girl shakes her head so hard her hair flies.
"I don't have magic!" Snow interrupts, screams, like Regina is deaf or dumb, or some variation of both.
"Snow. White!" Regina's voice cracks through the air, scolding and sharp and Snow has only heard her name uttered like that three times in her entire life, all three courtesy of Regina, "You are the rightful Queen of this castle," the words are bitter out of her mouth, leave a bad taste on her tongue, "it will obey you and your royal blood." Snow's eyes are glued to Regina, wide and shocked, "I awoke it and now you must order it!"
"I don't have magic," Snow repeats, and its soft now, her eyes are pools of uncertainty and David behind her grunts and cleaves an arm right off a monkey.
"The castle is magic," Regina says and a hand comes up to Snow's chin, a mere fingertip on the underside of Snow's jaw and the girl looks close to tears at the gesture, the familiarity of it aching inside them both, echoes of a time long gone when Snow was a head shorter then Regina.
Ruby howls out a long cry, and a monkey has moved past her, its claws aimed for Roland, and the boy's eyes are closed but he knows it is coming and screams. The claws turn to ash upon touching him, the Mothers Shelter glowing a bright amber around his whole body, but Roland is screaming and screaming, Regina sees red, she sees red and her hand glows purple, blistering purple and it's with a cry shrill enough to break glass that her hand land on the creatures face, it takes only a moment and the face melts, like wax it all strips away, first it's skin and fur, and then after that it's the eyes, there's only it's grinning skull left when Regina flings it away.
She's on her knees looking over the boy, hands running over him, and he's burbling at her, tears streaking down his face, soaking the neckline of his nightclothes, she hugs him against her, picks him up once more.
Snow is looking at the boy with wide eyes, "What was that?" she asks, turns to Regina.
"What?" Regina snaps back, rubs the boys back, roving eyes restless and glaring out at monkeys and humans alike.
"What magic is on him?" Snow says, loud and hot, and she tugs at Regina's elbow, a desperate pull that has Regina turning and looking at her.
Regina can't answer, she will not answer.
"I have it too," Snow says, steps closer, hand closing around Regina's elbow, "Regina, what is it? It turned a monkey's hand into dust when it tried to touch me!"
"I," and the spell had been all her children, or none.
"Regina," Snow has always had such imploring eyes, green, soft green.
"I cast a protection spell on him," Regina answers, stares into the other woman's face.
"On him? Only on him?" the girl knows the answer, of course not only him, Regina wants to spit it in Snow's face, the girl has already had a taste of her own protection. It's like salt in open wounds, more than Regina can bear, she looks away from those green eyes.
"On my children," Regina says, thrown like barbs out onto the floor.
Snow gasps, a broken sound, a happy sound, her hand tightens on Regina's arm and Regina can imagine the smile that grows on her face, "Raise the shield," Regina says instead of melting that smile right off of Snow's face, Roland's weight is pulling her down, her very bones are rattling, she is covered in sweat.
"How?" Snow asks, and Regina tugs herself free of the other woman's grasp.
"How do you think, you idiot? Close your eyes and wish it, imagine safety, imagine protection, order the castle to provide and it will."
Regina cannot turn and watch, can never look at Snow again, the little girl she loves and hates, the woman too, that she loves and hates, both twisted and tormented together, a private agony ripping through Regina's mind.
The castle rumbles, there's a blast of wind, it knocks Regina right over, knocks the wolf Ruby right over, and Regina does turn to look, can't help herself. Snow has her eyes tight shut, her sword dangling from her limp hand, her hair flows about her head, thick and dark and hypnotic.
"Snow!" David reaches for his wife, but Regina knocks him back with a push of magic, she doesn't know what touching Snow will do, and would rather the blame of any mishaps not lay on her shoulders.
A BOOM ricochets off and rattles the walls, has Regina crying out and she feels she'll never hear again and Snow has white magic pouring from her feet, lacelike and blinding and glowing, it races away from her. When Regina had first activated the shield, and it seems so long ago, the lace had faded fast, but it pours from Snow, stronger and stronger, thrumming with life and strength and the monkeys around them have no time to flee, the white lace wraps them up, climbs up their bodies and they scream before they are pulled into the floor, gone in an instant.
The lace does not touch Roland, nor David, nor Ruby, even in her wolf form, nor any other human in the hall, but Regina can feel it climbing up her body, slower than with the monkey's and not as quickly damning, but it stings all the same, burns.
Does the girl mean to do this? Regina thinks she must, because the lace had not harmed her before, she'd been able to pass her hands right through the shield, when she'd pulled the little birds through, pulled them through the shield and they were once again the baubles they had once been, and now it's only when Snow has the reigns that the lace seems to think Regina a threat.
It burns.
And then it's gone, and Regina lies panting on the floor, shivering and sweating and Roland lies with her, sniffling and traumatized, how could he not, with all that he has seen.
Her thoughts turn to the boy's father, her thoughts had not been with him this entire time, and she sits up, it's agony, but now he is in her head, his face, his voice, his gentle calloused hands, and she needs him, needs him like she needs oxygen, he's alive, he must be.
Snow is stumbling, smiling, she's the hero after all, and Regina shoves Roland at her, "I'm finding your Papa," she tells the boy and he nods, doesn't look entirely comfortable in Snow's embrace but he nods and Regina cannot look at Snow, will never look at her again, her child and she trusts the girl with Roland, and it's not even a thought, because of course she does.
Her hands fling up, engulf her in purple.
SPOILER SPOILER, hey so yo, it's gonna be alright all yall, okay, really truly, I know I've given a lot of pain, maybe to the point where it seems like I'm just going in circles (though I thought it was all important to the story and unique in some way and that's why it's there ya feel me), but here's coming is a lot of love, really truly, so just hang in there my peeps
Double double SPOILER, those afraid she's for reals gonna die, she aint dying shit come on
ps, I think her and Grumpy would be, hmm well not 'good' friends, but like grumbly and snipy and pretty okay friends
DISCLAIMER: not mine yo
