Conquering Storybrooke was easier than she had ever dared to hope. The truth was, most people wanted somebody else to make the decisions. That's why they had heroes; to tell them the 'right' thing to do. But with the heroes out of the way, a strong enough personality would do. And Cora certainly had a strong personality.
She rewarded Jefferson for his loyalty with the best gift she could think of. Hook's dried bean was easily enough renewed in the waters of the well she had emerged through, and she was gracious enough to offer it to the hatter and his daughter. He could never come back or help anyone he found on the other end, but the poor man seemed happy enough to be away from her that she highly doubted he would ever summon the courage to return.
Perhaps Snow White and her daughter would find a way back someday. Perhaps they were already dead, victims of a random ogre attack. It didn't really matter. They would find a very different town than the one they left behind.
Despite Blue's protestations, Cora never did regret casting the Curse of the Empty-Hearted. It got her daughter back, and really, that was all she wanted. Regina was loving, but most of all, she was obedient. The perfect daughter that Cora had always wanted. Royal. Magical. She was a good ruler, better because she wasn't subject to the flights of fancy she'd been so disposed toward in childhood.
After a couple of months, Belle had run out of supplies and came out of hiding along with Henry. The little bookworm was easily disposed of, and then Cora began training her grandson. Though she wished Regina had not named the boy so sentimentally, at least the boy was named after a prince, not some worthless stable boy. Middle names, after all, served little purpose and could be eliminated. Prince Henry Mills would serve well enough.
The boy had talent. An imaginative mind and a heart full of belief. Those were good enough tools to get started molding him into a powerful warrior. Perhaps even a sorcerer someday, but not everybody was made for magic. Whatever he ended up being, he was moldable. She suspected he might not always have been, but there was something broken in his eyes. Good. Broken hope was necessary to create a strong child, even if people liked to disagree. Just look at her. She never would have reached such heights with a 'stable home life.'
Cora was also satisfied with her decisions in respect to her lovers. She truly had loved Rumplestiltskin, once upon a time. Enough that she wanted him to have the chance to find his son, maybe even make up with him. But Rumplestiltskin, family man, was of no use to her. No, it was time for a new Dark One. Apparently, Henry was Baelfire's son. That fact made him perfect bait, and once Rumpel was distracted, it was easy enough for Hook to drive the dagger through his heart.
Of course, Hook wasn't aware that the one who kills the Dark One becomes the Dark One. That had been a fun discovery for him. The pirate dropped the dagger in horror as soon as he saw his own name etched into it. Which, of course, made it that much easier to summon it herself. Cora always had been drawn to power, but it was far better form as queen to have someone else do her dirty work. Hook hadn't been pleased, of course. Not that he was the Dark One, and certainly not that he was one on a leash, but his happiness was hardly her concern. He did as he was told, as all good pets must.
Yes, Queen Cora was certainly happy with how everything had turned out. She had her daughter and grandson. She had the throne. She had power. She was a just ruler, and most of her subjects were happy enough to honor her or were, at worse, indifferent to the new ruler. On the rare occasion that there were rebellions (the doctor and the wolf had been a surprising duo), she was more than happy to provide a very public demonstration of what happened to those who opposed her.
She made them bow. Their kneecaps cracked and froze on the stones. Their necks broke from bending. And if she imagined that it was the lovely Princess Eva in their places, well, it couldn't be said that the Queen had a poor imagination. It may have taken a while, but Cora truly had everything she had ever wanted.
Long Live the Queen.