NOTES: I tried to make the most fanfiction-y thing possible. And this is what I got.
The brunette woman takes my hand, leading me down the steps, into the darkest space imaginable. If my eyes are closed, I don't know it. It feels as though we walk for a millennium, her hand the only thing keeping me steady, heading towards our destination, whatever that may be. We round a corner. The flare of a single torch flickers dangerously, casting shadows up the walls, illuminating the bright chocolate orbs of the stranger in front of me as she turns briefly to look me up and down. Perhaps she's checking I'm still with her. I squeeze her hand in reminder, feeling a prickle shoot up my arm in response.
"Are we almost there?" I breathe, listening intently as my words echo off the walls. Her mouth parts in a wide grin, visible only as her teeth glow; tiny white sapphires in the endless forest of shadows surrounding us.
"No," she says softly, firmly. "Not almost."
Forcing herself against the door, the stranger leads me into a room beyond anything I could have expected. Upon first glance, it appears like any other dungeon – paint peels from the walls in thick clumps, the fallen flakes gathering in small piles of dust and age-old cobwebs across the cracked stone. A once-lavish fireplace stands regally in the corner of the room. I can't help but feel it looks a little more disdainful than perhaps it once could've (maybe due to the acrid smell that seems to be emanating from somewhere within it). Wrinkling my nose, I cast my eyes away, towards the – easily most disturbing – point of interest in the room. A large cabinet commands the most part of the farthest wall. Lining each shelf is an array of ornately decorated little boxes, each pulsing with a rich, somewhat morbid, crimson light. For some reason, my heart clenches when I notice that a few pulse with less stamina and vibrancy than the others.
"What is this place?" I shiver, suddenly missing the confines of my shabby little apartment back in Boston.
"This... place," the strange dark-haired woman sighs, "is a part of my history." She slides her fingers between mine, resting her other hand against the small of my back so I have no way to escape her – and no desire to. She terrifies me, but is so utterly spectacular – so gorgeously dazzling – it is almost impossible to look away. "It's a part of our history, Emma." Her eyes flash, a melancholic smile dripping across her features. I back away, waves of dread rising around me like water in some giant fish tank, and I'm squirming, screaming, about to be submerged. I taste bile at the back of my throat.
"How did you…?" I gulp. "I don't think I ever told you my name."
The woman looks surprised, momentarily. But then she looks amused. "Oh, but you did, Emma," she scoffs, rolling her eyes in a manner that makes me feel both scarlet with humiliation and very confusedly aroused. This woman has the ability to bring out feelings in me that I haven't felt in years – things I wasn't even sure I was capable of feeling anymore. I frown, trying to determine the last thing I can remember feeling before entering this room. But I can't remember anything at all. My life is blank before this dungeon; this woman. I catch a glimpse of myself in the circular mirror on the wall and I am white with fear.
The dark-haired woman turns away confidently, scanning the shelves for something I don't have the headspace to fathom out. When she finds what she's looking for, she smiles menacingly, pulling a box from the shelf as cautiously as if it contained a nuclear reactor. "What's in there?" I manage, wishing my thoughts weren't so muddled so I could generate a question less basic. The woman responds by unclasping the lid of the box and pulling out – what appears to be – a bright, somehow still pulsing heart. I grit my teeth, a suffocating weight suddenly pressing down upon me, as though the air has become thicker; the gravity stronger.
"Ah, that's pretty normal," the stranger in front of me chuckles. "I can't tell you how much pleasure this gives me. After all, we both know I'm still a little bit of a sadist. Especially when it comes to you, Emma."
I choke, spluttering, "Stop saying my name like you know me–"
"–Quiet now," the woman chimes. My words fall short as though stolen by a snowstorm. But, of course, the air is still. I open my mouth to fight back but no sentences form. My eyes widen at her, bewildered as she throws her head back, laughing at me. Laughing at my suffering. "Oh, you have to let me have my fun… Don't you?" Her face turns dark, and she squeezes the thing in her hands. "I asked you a question! Agree with me!"
I fall to my knees, crying out in a strangled note of suffering, nodding my head wildly, unable to stop myself. "Yes!"
At least the woman has the decency to look slightly guilty, her eyes creasing in worry. "Sorry, sorry," she hisses, "I didn't mean to press that hard…" She bites her lip. "Okay, perhaps it's time I end this little charade. Before I accidentally murder you, or something," she snorts and then grimaces, hearing her own words. "Okay, maybe I took it just a touch too far…" My eyes widen, alarmed, and she sighs, shaking her head nonchalantly. Casting a smile in my direction, she whispers something into the pulsing heart-thing and suddenly my head is overwhelmed – memories flood my brain; a tsunami of knowledge all crashing down at once…
I glance up at Regina, rolling my eyes. I'm determined not to smile first. I mean, honestly, I should be furious with her… But she just looks too damn cute, all dressed up in her Evil Queen outfit. The corner of her lip twitches, and suddenly it's unbearable. We both can't help but break out into a cacophony of ugly cackling. It lasts for a solid minute before either one of us says anything.
"I can't believe you did that!" I exclaim eventually, my voice gobsmacked, but desperately trying to withhold the note of amusement. Regina strokes a strand of hair behind my ear, a playful look dancing in her eyes.
"Well, next time I tell you that 'you don't know what I'm capable of' maybe you should believe me," she grumbles.
"But–" I splutter. "The memory wipe? Come on." I cast her a wild look, along the lines of: What the hell were you thinking? "We were playing chess, Regina!"
"I think we still are." She glances down at the heart in her hand and I smile, knowing that there is no one else who I would trust it with more. But still. I really need to stop ripping it out and giving it to her when our games escalate; especially if she's going to pull things like this.
"Can I have my heart back?" I grin, raising an eyebrow. She steps towards me, clearly about to press it back into my chest, when a mischievous look passes across her face. "Regina," I say, trying to sound dangerous but knowing it doesn't have the same effect when I'm grinning uncontrollably.
"Just one more thing," she sighs seductively. She steps closer to me; so close I can feel her breath tickling my lips. My heart races in her hands, and I think she feels it too, because her lips part, breathless. "Kiss me, Emma Swan. Kiss me like I am a queen." I step closer to her, running my fingers through her hair, stroking the base of her neck. "Like I am… your Queen..."
And I am very happy to oblige.