Standard Disclaimer: These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.
Chapter 14 – A Gnarled Olive Branch
Snow White and her procession of brain-addled sycophants arrive at the Dark Palace to the blares of trumpets and the cheers of scores of citizens assembled at the gates of the lower citadel. The overly effusive greeting was organized and deployed at the request of the Council of Nobles, who insisted a royal welcome was appropriate to visiting monarchs, one of whom was once the Crown Princess of the realm. Regina only permitted the committee being formed for Red's sake. Buttering up Snow with unearned accolades and warm enthusiasm upon her first visit to the castle since she was exiled might help grease the cogs of securing her help to save Red's life. Sure as Regina was that Snow would agree out of love for Red alone, she was not about to take any chances. If saving Red's life meant enduring the brat being so joyfully embraced by the citizenry as if a returning hero, then so be it.
That does not mean, however, that she is in any way enjoying this repugnant charade.
With her lips curling into a reflexive sneer, Regina watches the column of half a dozen carriages and a contingent of armed guards pass through the gates from the balcony attached to her chambers. She has the best view in the Citadel from here, save those upon the ramparts, atop the very same railing she had once tumbled over to a sure death. Leaning against the railing just as she was then, she cannot help but be drawn back to that fateful moment so many years ago. Only Tinker Bell's miraculous appearance saved her life, although the interference had not been appreciated. Death, even if accidental, would have meant an end to her daily suffering. The bumbling misadventure that followed did nothing to improve her generally low opinion of the fairy race.
How stupid did Tinker Bell think she was? The ignoramus was a self-confessed novice out to prove herself to her superiors by finding an abused, broken woman's soul mate. It was a recipe for disaster if ever there was one. And then the mentally deficient insect had the audacity to expect she would believe some random burly man with a lion tattoo drunkenly carousing with his comrades in a dirty tavern was supposed to be her soulmate? Did the idiot do no research whatsoever about her before initiating contact? It was no secret she preferred a tall, athletic aesthetic and a thoughtful, studious personality, which Daniel epitomized. Not only that, by then she was heartily disinterested in romanticism. Her wedding night alone all but cured her of such vapid sentimentality. No, she had most certainly not been searching for anyone to rescue her, not to mention some random ruffian who looked like he hadn't seen the inside of a bathtub in months.
Back then, all that gave her life meaning was contemplating revenge. Specifically upon the nauseatingly saccharine saint arrayed in white currently striding through the adoring crowds of former subjects. Snow was eating up the attention like a peacock having completed a successful mating dance.
For reasons beyond her subjects' uncomfortably warm reception of their former princess, Regina's lips curl with disgust as she whirls away from the scene unfolding down below. Forsaking her chambers, she makes her way into the throne room where she will wait to greet her highfalutin guests. No doubt, the royal visitors be less than cordial, which suits her perfectly fine. She has every intention of returning the favor.
One unbearably long week and three days have gone by since she sent a missive to the White Kingdom informing Snow of the calamity that necessitated her to travel to Misthaven.
Did the moron not read the part where Red's life is hanging in the balance? Clearly not. The brat simply had to arrive fashionably late...
Hatred of her old enemy flares back up at the thought. Snow could have been here days ago. Instead, she took her sweet, precious time organizing a retinue to accompany her. Like always, Snow's comfort was of preeminent consideration. Perhaps the survival of her best friend is not so important after all for her have to been so lax in arranging transport.
Unlike the Charmings, Regina has not been idle in the interim. The morning after Rumple's visit, she arranged another raven to be dispatched for Mulan with a sealed letter recounting recent tragic events and which also immediately recalled her to the citadel. With Regina on the verge of leaving the Enchanted Forest for Oz, the General would be most needed here where Red would require increased protection in her absence. There were also reasons for the recall beyond her upcoming departure.
Reports of suspicious activity have picked up over the last few days from the lowland regions butting up to the unplumbed depths of the Infinite Forest. The dense, nearly impenetrable woodland set in a valley between four kingdoms – Misthaven to the southwest, the White Kingdom to the northeast, Beowulf's mostly tribal realm to the northwest, and Drakkenhall to the southeast – provides an excellent staging ground for clandestine forces, especially if rumors of the ancient tunnels networking beneath the area have any basis to them. Then there is Mulan's last report from the border with Drakkenhall, which indicated nebulous bands of troops congregating too close to the border for comfort, all wearing colors that did not belong to Stefan's land. It is becoming increasingly clear to Regina that Zelena has used the lull after the attack on Red to covertly move her chess pieces into position. Checkmate is imminent, and with it the possible threat of invasion has evolved into an eventuality.
Since it had taken two weeks of more or less casual travel for Mulan to reach the southern garrison and at last half that would be consumed on a return journey that emphasized haste over comfort, Regina sent word via another raven yesterday morning advising the Supreme Commander of her armed forces to run her horse to death if needs be. Accounting for the travel time of the bird that relayed the first missive, Mulan would not arrive for some days yet, which is more than worrying. The tide of war is inexorably cresting, a lumbering behemoth roused from decades of hibernation that will wash away everything in its path, a pall of impending misery and death rolling in with it. Unfortunately, Regina cannot afford to tarry on her best soldier. She will be leaving for Oz the very second she secures Snow's agreement to accompany her.
That said, Regina hopes she is wrong and that Mulan's loyal steed with canter through the gates of the citadel at any moment. If her gut inclination that armies will soon be on the move, sieges undertaken, and mass bloodshed unleashed upon the kingdom, it is imperative that Mulan be present to organize the defense of the citadel. The time for striking out preemptively has come and gone. The only moves left are to hunker down inside the citadel and wait for the afield armies to answer the call to return to the capital. Without Mulan here to ensure resistance within the citadel remains unbroken long enough for that to happen, the chances of repelling the initial assault plummet drastically. Furthermore, if the citadel were to fall with Regina in Oz, Mulan's intimate knowledge of escape routes only the royal couple are privy to key to preventing Red from being taken captive by the invading forces, who would then hold her ransom upon Regina's return from Oz. Or, her morbidly pessimistic side points out, they would do much worse.
Both possibilities send a frisson of cold fear down the whole length of Regina's spine. Not for the first time, she second guesses her decision to leave Misthaven – and Red – behind for Oz. If only there were another choice, she would abandon her plans immediately and focus all of her attention on keeping Red safe from right here within the comfortable, secure walls of their home. But that would mean leaving her wife to the ravages of a curse that will eventually kill her, and that is a conclusion Regina cannot permit to happen, no matter the cost to her kingdom. This is one time in her life, and hopefully it will be the last, that she is going to have to entrust safeguarding what is most precious to her in all the world to others instead of ensuring it herself. It makes her sick to do so, but there is no acceptable alternative than to journey to Oz with Snow. Retrieving the bark with which she can craft a potion to counteract the reagent Zelena added to her curse is the only viable method to save Red. So that's exactly what she is going to do.
To that end, she also paid a reluctant but necessary visit to her old acquaintance Jefferson. It took a hefty sum of gold to secure his services, along with an oath sworn on Daniel's grave that she would not betray him as she did in Wonderland. Difficult as it was to accept such distasteful terms, she reminded herself it was a worthwhile surrender if she wanted to save her wife. For Red, she would have given up much more, even plucked out her own heart from her chest as collateral if he had so demanded. In the end, he agreed to ferry her and Snow from Oz and back with his unique magical hat, which was ultimately all that mattered.
Thankfully Jefferson was in a mildly accommodating mood thanks to his daughter's upcoming birthday and ambitious desire for a pony to call her own. He could have demanded so much more and instead settled for relatively paltry rewards to make his little girl happy.
Count your gift horses, Red would say in a similar situation, and don't look your blessings in the mouth.
The silly woman does so love to purposefully mix metaphors simply as a way to needle highly refined and educated sensibilities. Funny thing is, there isn't much Regina wouldn't give to hear such odious vernacular right now. All of Red's most terrible habits and irritating quirks have become exceedingly precious now that she isn't around to showcase them at the worst possible moment. Better the mixed metaphors, colloquial idioms, and less than stellar table manners than to endure a single day more than is necessary without those lovely imperfections. A lifetime of quirky frustration with Red is far preferable to an hour of impeccable decorum without her. It's just sad a tragedy of this magnitude was the catalyst to recognize that.
Now, she is lounging upon her throne, elbow on the armrest and her chin resting upon a closed fist with her mind divided. The upcoming confrontation with her most bitter enemy is at odds with continual fretting over her beloved wife.
Red's condition has degenerated noticeably since first succumbing to the sleeping curse. Her fever has gotten progressively worse, so that of late her cheeks are persistently flushed scarlet and hot to the touch. Regina is now having to take turns with Iris – and Marian when she is able, which is not often with her overloaded plate having to run a busy tavern and mother a six year old boy who is almost always on the run all by herself – to regularly bath Red and change the bed sheets due to how heavily she is perspiring. If it's even possible, her limbs have also stiffened as if her muscles are slowly, inexorably contracting with the premature onset of rigor mortis. The strain on her joints is extreme enough now that they will utter an occasional pop or crack of protest at the constant abuse they are made to endure. The most intolerable part of the curse, though, is the deafening stillness.
Red has only ever been ill in a human sense thrice in the seven years she has lived in the palace. Two of those instances were little more than day-long bouts of sniffles and some light coughing courtesy of a mild case of the common cold. The worst incidence was the first, and it coincided with a sudden rash of wolf attacks in the eastern forests of the kingdom. Being the self-sacrificial hero that she is, Red volunteered to take care of it. Since her wolf persona is perfectly capable of overpowering an entire pack of rabid wolves, Regina had thought the request perfectly reasonable. She'd given permission without a second thought, assuming Red could handle the slavering beasts with ease.
When her wife limped home days later, the gravity of that mistake became obvious. Red was an absolute wreck. Her clothes were tattered and the visible skin of her neck and forearms were lined with long, ragged gashes that were still weeping through hastily applied bandages. After Regina had a fit over the wounds and healed the worst of them, Red sheepishly admitted she might should have done a little more investigative leg work before rushing in headlong to confront the menacing threat. It turned out to not just be one feral pack, but two exceptionally large ones that both jumped her at once.
"I barely made it out alive,but they're taken care of," Red had then said, her eyes imploring Regina not to overreact. To Regina's credit she hadn't much more than sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth. It wasn't the first time, nor was it the last, she had to play nursemaid after her partner's alter ego bit off more than she could chew.
All that night, Red trembled in her arms as if freezing all the while her skin was a furnace set ablaze. Red always ran a little hot, but nothing approaching that level of frightening intensity. The next morning Regina was awakened to Red launching out of bed, pale as a sheet as she scurried away to the washroom to vomit. Regina had rushed after her ailing partner, tense and worried, but determined to help however she could. Her anxiety morphed into outright panic when the illness did not slack up for more than five minutes over the course of an hour. By that time, Red was nearly hysterical, sobbing desperately and begging Regina for help she wasn't sure how to give. At her wits end, Regina was forced to use magic to render her unconscious so that she could consult with the newly employed Dr. Frankenstein. Thankfully, Victor swiftly developed an effective herbal treatment for the vomiting or else tempers might have flared out of control.
During the entire week Red was abed warring against a myriad of infections, she was half-delirious when awake and thrashed violently in her sleep. She became inordinately afraid of water, even when it was in the form of a dampened cloth meant to assuage her feverish skin. In all of that time, Red was never still for more than half an hour, and by the time it was over, Regina was absolutely exhausted.
Up until that time, she had never seen Red in such serious condition due to an infection. Even the particularly virulent strains of flu that swept through the land every handful of years did not seem to touch her. But it turned out that bites from rabid animals affected her whereas other more human diseases did not. The ancient magic of werewolves coursing through her veins made her resistant to full blown rabies, but the virus is so pernicious and resilient that it gave her hearty system a run for its money in purging it. The result was an acute affliction that so terrorized Regina that she spent the next six full moons as little more than a bundle of frazzled nerves precariously edging her wits end.
The Curse, however. presents an entirely alien form of infirmity. The fever is the only similarity to natural afflictions, otherwise, the symptoms are altogether unnatural. Because the mind is completely disconnected from the body by magic, the victim simply lays there motionless, dead and yet alive. Honestly, she would much prefer to be dealing with another bout of the rabies virus attacking Red's hearty immune system than her sister's insidious curse. At least then she could do something productive to project a semblance of usefulness. At least then, Red would be somewhat aware of what was going on around her, would be able to respond to questions and hold short conversations to relay her symptoms so Victor could attempt to treat them. At least then, Red would be moving, as she should be considering her youth and vitality.
Under the thrall of this magical ailment, she does not so much as twitch. Not even a toe or a finger or a subtle ripple in the striated muscles of her lips. Red is never so calm. Even when she's reading a book, something is in motion. She should be a blur of perpetual movement and frenetic energy that can barely be contained within her lithe frame. Instead she just lies there, inert, a human log felled in a forest of stone. It's fundamentally wrong, and terrifies Regina beyond any capability of coherent expression.
What's worse, though, is that Red's suffering is not confined to her body. Far away from the present reality, her spirit is trapped in some hellish dimension that Regina cannot penetrate even with the most powerful magic in all of the cosmos. Somehow, her own personal living hell feels less preferable to that. Bearing this torture alone is intolerable. Though a stout woman of iron will, her ability to cope without being rent asunder is taxed by remaining in that dreary room for more than five minutes. Nevertheless, she forces herself to endure knowing that if she were in a similar situation, Red could not be forcibly pried away from her side.
Heaving a tired breath, Regina turns her eyes up to the grand doors of the throne room just in time to watch them be thrown wide open rather rudely. Her eyebrow arches out of reflex and her body stiffens with anticipation.
"What's the meaning of this Regina?" Snow asks immediately upon thundering into the throne room. Striding ardently forward, her resplendent white gown billows behind her as she marches, face stony and demanding. "I got your message. Where is Red? What's happened to her?"
Charming trails behind his wife wearing a similar expression. Following him is the Widow Lucas – better known as Granny, Red's grandmother. There is a stormy look upon the old woman's face that spells trouble. Ordinarily Regina would bristle at the elder Lucas' blatant albeit unspoken accusations, but for now she ignores her only living in-law in favor of glowering at Snow.
The young monarch is as impertinent as ever, and the show of impudence summons images of flaying her from head to toe with a dull, rusty knife. Being rendered impotent to raise Red from the curse has her persistently striving against old defense mechanisms that want to rear their ugly heads. Foremost among them at present is the urge to murder Snow White. Fortunately, practicing restraint for Red's sake has taught her how to wear a mask that is impenetrable to all but a select few, none of whom are present.
Externally, she schools her features and rises fluidly from her throne. After smoothing down her skirts, she descends the dais and heads toward the thick, gilded oaken doors separating the throne room from the rest of the castle. She purposefully ignores her visitors every bit as rudely as they had intruded upon her thoughts without so much as a knock.
"Come with me," she orders as she strides down the lush, violet carpeted pathway she'd had installed along with it's matching drapes and cushions less than six weeks ago. A lavish present from the Marquis of Carabas, a new noble Red had personally championed for reasons Regina still is unsure of.
Rather than argue, Snow wisely falls in behind her with Charming and Granny in tow. Regina leads them out and then through the maze of hallways toward the Royal Quarters. Whether due to being overcome with memories of her childhood or she is simply afraid of setting Regina off, Snow does not speak. Regina is grateful for the silence, as the slightest provocation might trigger an eruption of her already swelling temper. Her patience is thin enough as is. She does not need Snow to add further stress upon her overly taxed coping mechanisms with inane babble or worse – barbed accusations. Though there is an unspoken and uneasily maintained truce between them, truces are not treaties and therefore can be broken at any time.
It takes some minutes for Regina to navigate the party to the final corridor of the castle's Royal Wing and to the bedchambers where her most distinguished guests stay during diplomatic visits. The second they enter the room where Red is being kept, Snow shoulders past her with a strangled cry.
"Oh, gods! Red!" She rushes over to the bed and falls on her knees beside it, her hand immediately clutching Red's unnaturally pale one. "Red? Red, can you hear me, honey?" When no answers come, she shakes Red by the shoulder several times, increasingly hard with each failed attempt to rouse her unconscious friend. "Red? Wake up! Wake up, Red!" Again, Red does not stir, and immediately Snow whirls around on Regina, glaring hatefully. "What have you done to her?"
Regina opens her mouth to berate Snow for such an unforgivable assumption only to be cut short by a violent slap. She stumbles back, hand going immediately to the sharply stinging flesh of her cheek. With her mouth gaping open in shock more so than pain, she nonetheless feels tears welling up in her eyes as she meets those steely blue eyes of the woman who had raised Red.
"I told you what would happen if anything ever happened to my granddaughter. Be thankful I settled for that," Granny says, voice hard as granite. The old woman's expression is colder than the one she'd worn during the whole of her first visit to the Dark Palace five months prior to her granddaughter's wedding. That hadn't been a pleasant time for Regina. The Widow Lucas is a formidable woman and excessively suspicious. Apparently everything Regina does is part of some nefarious scheme. "Now answer Snow's question before I really get upset," Granny growls, her eyes briefly flashing a muted amber.
Although Regina does not retaliate physically out of respect for her wife, had the circumstances been even slightly more dire, she probably would have done something regrettable. At the very least, she would have answered the slap with one of her own. Tit for tat has always been a motto she conducted herself by.
As it is, she channels her fury into her words. "What have I done?" The rhetorical question hangs in the air as she holds her throbbing cheek, casting furious eyes over the faces of her accusers. However justified the blame being heaped upon her shoulders may be, there is a subtextual questioning of her relationship with Red behind them that has always been present.
This bunch has never accepted her where Red is concerned. Several times they have plainly expressed their disapproval for her and have even gone so far as to levy threats that she'd mostly laughed away. Aside from those from Red's grandmother, that is. Regina had taken to heart the old woman's promise to send a crossbow bolt straight through her forehead should Red come to harm. A slap in the face is a far cry from that lethal measure, for which she is not about to complain. At the same time, she has been nice enough to endure their disapproval for far too long.
Fed up with everyone blaming her for something beyond her control, she relinquishes her iron grip on her temper. "I should have you all arrested and flogged for the audacity to suggest I am a party to this...atrocity," she sneers, fixing each of them with a withering glare. "But for her sake, I'll tell you what I've done instead. I have been loving her and caring for her for seven years! It was I who nursed her back to health when she got so sick she was abed for an entire week. Where were you then, Snow?"
At that Snow ducks her head, cheeks flaming with shame because she'd been away from her kingdom with Charming at the time. Regina had sent for Snow at Red's request via courier only for the messenger to return with word that the royal couple were unavailable. Apparently they had taken off on a silly, extravagant, totally unnecessary jaunt about the realm in celebration of the anniversary of their ascent to power, and were not expected back another week. The absence of Red's oldest friend had been a welcome relief to Regina, but she'd been infuriated just the same because of how crestfallen Red became after receiving the news. To this day, Regina remains convinced the melancholy Red sunk into that day prolonged the sickness afflicting her.
Indignation levels rising, Regina then levels Charming and Granny with equally deadly glares. "And how about the rest of you? You all claim to love her so much, but where were you?" Regina knew they knew that she knew where they were but wanted so badly to rub their noses in their failure that she could not refrain from pressing the issue. "I had messages sent at Red's request and am quite certain they reached your castle. Even after you returned from your Grand Tour, no reply was sent and no visit was made. Why?" When no one pipes up, Regina's face grows hot. The vein in her forehead began to pulse prominently. "Answer me!"
Charming flushes much as his wife did at Regina's pointed questioning, though he bravely maintains eye contact. Granny, on the other hand, continues staring at Regina, not afraid in the slightest, although she is clearly concerned by the outburst.
As well she should be, Regina thinks. She has been operating on a fragile thread of control since Red was struck down and is finally ready to snap. To prevent that from happening, she channels her frustration into castigating the selfishness and ignorance of this insular group of so-called heroes who refuse to see her for who she is rather than for who she once was. Is the Evil Queen all she'll ever be to these people?
"How dare you question my love for her!" she continues ranting, and begins pacing back and forth like a caged tigress. "Over and over again, I have proven myself where she is concerned. I have sacrificed for her and taken risks for her that compromised the integrity of my very crown! Against all advice and the protestations of my councilors, I married her and elevated her to a position of power second only to me. Because of that, a faction of disgruntled nobles conspired against me, simply because I dared to wed a peasant who just so happened to also be a woman. Did you know that they staged a coup and attempted to assassinate me in broad daylight?"
Although none of them answer, she can deduce by their body language they were ignorant of the attempt. It isn't all that surprising considering she retaliated expeditiously and with exaggerated brutality. And for reasons besides the obvious that all apostates deserved to burn.
"Of course you didn't," she plows forward, "because she saved my life by stepping in front of me and taking the blow. None of you sat with her through the night as she languished abed, wracked with so much pain that she groaned and whined in her sleep. But I was. I couldn't sleep for her discomfort, not that I would have anyway for the paralyzing fear that she'd stop breathing if I closed my eyes even for a second. I alone nursed her back to health, and to the detriment of the kingdom's affairs. I changed her bandages, bathed her, and fed her when she was too weak to even lift her head from the pillow.
"And who, do you suppose, was responsible for punishing those traitors? Hmm? Who was it that publicly put them to the torch and then watched their blackened ashes smolder for daring to lay a hand on her? That was me. I did that. I defended her from her many detractors, and I avenged her upon those who harmed her. And where were you all, her so called family, when all of this was happening?"
She stops pacing in front of Granny, and points an accusing finger at the unflinching woman, veins in her neck and forehead throbbing. "I'll tell you where you were, Eugenia," she grits out, knowing how much Granny hates being referred to by her given name, which is almost as much as Red hates being referred to by hers. "You were sitting in your cabin darning socks and plucking chicken feathers! And you have the...the absolute temerity...to come into my home and strike me for a crime I did not commit?"
"I'm an old woman, Your Majesty," Granny retorts, brazenly unapologetic. The old goat always was more like Regina than she'd care to admit, which is why she thinks Granny hates her so much. "I see things simple. My granddaughter lives with a monster and she got hurt because of it. That arithmetic adds up to the monster ultimately being the one responsible. You don't lock a child up in a room with a rabid dog, else they get bit, and that's exactly what I assumed happened. Hell, woman, the only reason you're all in a tizzy in the first place is because you already blame yourself."
"Perhaps I do," Regina replies tightly, unwilling and unable to refute that harsh truth. "But are you any better than me making such unfounded assumptions?"
That quietens Granny, and she frowns deeply. Satisfied with the small victory, Regina whirls on her former enemy. Snow gapes, looking fearful and shocked at her tirade.
"As for you, the venerable Snow White, let me enlighten you since you seem to have gone mute," Regina plows ahead. "During the time you were off gallivanting the countryside with your family, I was taking care of mine."
Almost shaking with anger, Regina moves to the end of the bed and turns so that she can face down her accusers, the so-called good guys who would just as soon blame her for all their ills rather than hear the hard truth.
"Red is my wife," she tells them. "She is my family! Mine. Mine. Mine! I love her more than anything and anyone, and that is certainly more than I can say for any of you. I would just as soon endure a thousand bites of an Agrabah viper than to willfully cause her even one insignificant injury. So how dare you all come into my home throwing about such baseless accusations!" By the end of her rant, Regina is panting and crimson-faced, and Snow is visibly petrified.
Standing tentatively, Snow extends her hands out slightly in a show of apology. "Listen, Regina, I..." She gulps, and then looks away for a brief moment before turning back. "I know that I've missed a lot these past few years, and I know that you love her. I really do. But I was...am very scared for her, so I jumped to the wrong conclusions. I shouldn't have done that. I apologize."
Regina straightens, brushes her hands down her sides and nods her grudging acceptance, though she can still feel the vein in her forehead throbbing due to her indignation. The thought of anyone doubting her love for Red turns her stomach, makes her crazed with anger in a way that reminds her of the deranged lunatic she became after Daniel's death. She is not ignorant of the gossip that goes on in secret about her relationship with Red. People still whisper to their friends just out of earshot that Red is merely a figurehead, a pretty face and a desirable body to warm the Queen's bed and a kind heart to make Regina look better in the eyes of the people. Such idle speculation is infuriating and causes her question how people can remain willfully ignorant to how much she has changed and grown as a person. And it makes her wonder why they can't see the depths of her love for Red by how far she is willing to go to both to promote and to protect her.
Wasn't it enough that she gave up half of her authority to a girl who never asked for such a gesture? Because Red never once aspired to be made Queen. She had not pestered Regina into marriage, nor had she brought it up in conversation through subtle comments or gently probing remarks. Instead, Red was insistent that she was happy for things to remain as they were. She could endure so long she knew Regina loved her and it was her at Regina's side rather than some superficial prince or duke or king in an empty suit with an empty heart and an empty brain. It is precisely because of that willingness to set aside her own precious dreams of marrying her True Love that Regina was willing to make such a huge concession.
She has already proven her resolve to do whatever is necessary to protect her wife, her Queen...the very embodiment of all of her happiness in life. Killing for Red is not a novel concept, as was proven by her response to the minor noble rebellion that almost cost Red her life. There have been other times as well that assassins have targeted Red as a means to gain leverage over Regina or to goad her into making a bad decision based on her more primal instincts. Unsuccessful though the attempts were, they were all put to the sword or the torch. In her eyes, there is no room for mercy to those who try to take away what belongs to her.
She is especially vicious in her reprisals because, to her, Red is the only living person in the world worth avenging. In that way, she has not changed, and never will. Her edges may have smoothed out due to Red's influence, but no matter how much she has evolved as a human being, she is still willing to employ whatever means necessary to get the job done. As such, she is more than willing to kill again. It just so happens that her own sister seems to be the next victim in line.
So while Snow may vehemently disagree with the methods and may doubt her intentions, she is determined to follow through on her promise to Zelena.
When Regina tightly nods her acceptance, Snow turns her attention back to Red and picks up Red's hand once more to cradle it protectively between her own. "What happened to her?"
The sorrowful tint to Snow's voice deflates Regina like a balloon whose knot has been abruptly untied. Her anger ebbs out of her as she realizes that she has overreacted to Snow's overreaction, and neither is conducive to helping Red.
"Unbeknownst to me, my mother had a child before she married my father. A girl," she tells Snow, ignoring the gasp from the diminutive yet impressive woman at her wife's bedside. "Surprise! My half-sister hates me and wants to make me suffer for the injustices in her life, whatever those are. This," she gestures angrily toward Red, "is how she intends to do it." She glances at Snow's husband whose hand is still on the pommel of his sword. "You ought to be happy about this turning of the tables, Charming. My True Love has been put under a sleeping curse, and unlike your own experience with my curse, this one can't even be broken by True Love's kiss."
Snow blinks several times as she processes what Regina has told her. Charming remains equally as confounded.
"You have a sister?" Snow finally asks, brows furrowed. "Red is cursed the same way I was, just this curse cannot be broken with True Love's kiss? Did I hear all of that right?"
Regina rolls her eyes in exasperation. "Yes. You heard correctly – for the most part."
"How do you know True Love's kiss won't work?" Granny poses, silver brow raised.
Regina draws in a shaky breath, eyes finding Red's face as she lets it out in a whoosh. "Because I kissed her and she remains asleep," she says, memories of that burst of magic washing over her, flooding her with mixed emotions.
The ecstasy of knowing what she and Red share is indeed True Love is soured by Zelena's subsequent revelations of the futility in her effort to wake her cursed spouse. The tragedy of it all hits her in the gut, and she has a hard time restraining the urge to scream or sob or plead to the gods for mercy or some awfully embarrassing combination of all three. She does so only because she refuses to show any of these people how much pain she is in.
"Because you don't have True Love," Charming says, injecting his patented brand of unhelpful stupidity into the equation. "If you did, Red would be awake."
"Oh, but we do," she asserts, fixing him with a pointed glare. "Red is undeniably my True Love. When I kissed her, the magic such an act produces burst out from both of us, only she remained asleep. It was only after my sister decided to rub my failure in my face that I was made to understand. This particular curse was constructed to be resistant to all forms of magic. Nothing magical can break it. Not a counter-spell, not a magical key, not an antidote, and not..."
"True Love's kiss," Snow interrupts, looking absolutely crushed "Oh, Regina. I'm so sorry!"
"I don't want your pity!" Regina retorts, then gestures bitterly toward Red. "I want you to help me fix this."
"But how?" Snow asks, shimmering tears pooling at her eyelids as she clutches Red's hand as if that alone is anchoring Red to life. "If True Love's kiss cannot break this curse then all hope is lost."
That statement slams into Regina's chest like a stampede of wild stallions. She has never heard Snow White so despondent, and the sound of her defeat is supremely disconcerting. Snow is supposed to be the hopeful one, the one that keeps a chipper, we-can-do-it attitude no matter how calamitous the circumstances. She is not supposed to give up on the woman who once saved her life and then taught her how to survive until she could stand on her own two feet in a world that was suddenly not offering up everything to her on a silver platter. Hearing Snow concede Red's fate as lost is simply unacceptable.
"Appearances can be deceiving. There is hope yet," she says, trying not to sound overly harsh. She knows that Snow is dismayed at Red's state and the apparent lack of options with which to reverse it. "My sister's heinous intent was, unfortunately for her, accompanied by hubris. She let it slip where the ingredient originates she used to make the curse unbreakable."
"How does that help?" Charming interjects.
Regina groans at the man's idiocy. "If you could have listened two seconds further, I would have told you." Ignoring her judgment of him, he gestures for her to continue. "As I was saying -" she draws out, eyeing Charming critically. He frowns. "The ingredient is derived from a tree that grows in the mountains of Oz that ring the Emerald City. I have spoken to an...expert in such matters, and he assures me that the antidote can be crafted of the bark of the same tree. I possess the necessary skill to make it, but unfortunately I am unqualified to retrieve the ingredient." She turns her attention onto Snow suddenly. "And that is why I have asked you here. I require your help."
"Me?" Snow asks, touching her chest reflexively.
"Yes, you," Regina replies, and Snow's wince alerts her to the fact she had been more harsh than she intended. "There is a gate that protects the grove the tree grows in, and only the pure of heart can open it."
"Which obviously eliminates you," Charming throws a pointed jab that picks at a sore scab on Regina's conscience.
Her inability to wake Red is hard enough to process without adding on her being unable to retrieve the ingredient necessary to craft an antidote. She starts to advance on the boorish simpleton, ready to thrash him for his unwarranted provocation, but is stopped by his wife's preemptive intervention.
"Charming! That was unnecessary," Snow chides.
Regina is surprised to hear her former enemy come to her defense. If the shoe was on the other foot, she would not have done the same. But that is part of Snow's nature, part of what makes her qualified to open the gates that will soon stand between Regina and her means of saving Red. Snow is ever willing to expend herself in the defense of those for whom she cares, even when those same people have done her such grievous harm as Regina has.
"Maybe. But it's true," Charming counters his wife's objection.
When Snow opens her mouth to respond, Regina stops her with a raising of her hand. "He's right. I am not an option to open the gate. However," she points at Snow, smirking, "you are."
"No way," Charming growls. "Absolutely not. Snow is not going to Oz. Certainly not with you."
At that, Snow stiffens and then rises to her full height. Face beet red with indignation, she grits out at her husband, "You may be my husband, Charming, but you are not the ruler of me. I make my own decisions. Red is my friend, my sister. If there is anything I can do to save her, I will." Turning to Regina, she nods curtly. "I'll go with you. When do we leave?"
"Snow..." Charming begins to protest.
"Enough!" Snow erupts, voice reverberating through the room.
Charming startles back at hearing his normally soft-spoken wife raise her voice at him. Regina relishes in the moment. It's not often she gets to bear witness to a wrinkle in the perfect couple's fabled relationship, and it delights her to no end to know that even the Charmings are not without their disagreements.
"I love you, honey, but this is not your choice. It's mine and I've made it. I'm going. There is nothing more to discuss."
"But what about Emma?" he counters, looking and sounding a tad bit desperate.
"Don't you see?" Snow replies, gesticulating passionately with her hands. "This is about Emma just as much as it is about Red. How can I look our daughter in the eye knowing that I'm unwilling to risk everything for those I love? She needs to know that there are more important things to consider than power, or social status, or wealth. All riches and kingdoms and authorities be damned! I would be dead if Red had not been there for me when I needed her most. She taught me how to survive, how to be a capable woman and not a silly, privileged little girl in over her head in every single way imaginable. For that alone I owe her more than I can ever repay. And besides that, she is worth the risk to me. When Emma grows up, that is the kind of person I want her to be. We are nothing if we are not willing to stake everything sacred to us – our lives, our fortunes, and our honor – for our friends."
Charming deflates, and it is evident that Snow has won the argument. Whatever objections he has, it seems that he shares in his wife's desire to raise their daughter to be the same kind of moral champion that they are reputed to be. It is a slightly sickening thought that another royal of their naive ilk will succeed them. People like the Charmings believe that good always triumphs over evil and that doing the right thing is always the right thing to do. They believe maintaining these virtues no matter the dire circumstance will be rewarded by the universe.
Regina can hardly hold in an acerbic response to their nauseating gullibility. The world is complex and gray in her experience, and the young Emma would be better off being taught pragmatism rather than unsophisticated optimism. But she is not Emma's mother, and furthermore has no vested interest in how Snow and Charming raise their daughter. All she cares about is getting Snow's help to save Red, and if some argument eschewing the necessity of maintaining their moral superiority for young Emma's sake will help secure that, then she is all for it.
"Fine," he says a moment later, and then shoots Regina with a warning glare. "But I swear if you hurt her..."
"It's not me you should worry about," Regina interrupts, ignoring his empty and futile threats. "Had I genuinely desired Snow's demise, I could have seen to it long ago. Red was right about that." She then levels her own threatening glare at the two monarchs, hardly able to believe her willingness to speak the words she is about to. "And I will deny this to my dying breath should any of you repeat it, but my insistence that I wanted you dead was a cover, a farce, a lie to tell myself so that I wouldn't have to face reality. A part of me always knew that everything bad that happened to me was due to my mother, but I loved her too much to reconcile what she had done with my need for her approval. There was a time that I would have killed you if the opportunity presented itself, but my main objective was always to ensure you suffered as I had. In retrospect, I can now see that I've accomplished that. For what it's worth and in the light of that, I consider my vendetta against you to be over."
For a moment, Snow looks mystified by the confession, and Charming equally shocked, but then Snow begins to beam like the sun has finally peaked out from beneath an unending stream of black and stormy clouds. Regina knows what that look is, and holds up her hand to prevent the saccharine sweetness that is sure to flow from Snow's mouth.
"But before you go falsely believing this wipes the slate clean, let me assure you that it does not," she clarifies, and Snow's countenance falls, but only a little. Her full face remains relentlessly pleased, and it irritates Regina to no end. "However innocent a victim you were to my mother's manipulations, Daniel died. In the aftermath, I fell victim to circumstances beyond my control that molded me into the Evil Queen. No amount of love or understanding can change that. Red's influence may have enlightened me to my misplaced hatred, but I have not changed so much as to dampen my sharp edges. And though I have relinquished my former appellative over time, I remain a Queen who cannot afford to appear weak in front of a former enemy."
She draws a deep breath and smooths a hand down her dress. "Therefore, while I am prepared to give my word that I will no longer try to kill you, I am not offering forgiveness. Do not ask for the impossible. Accept this for what it is, a formal detente, and let's get on with the business of saving someone for whom we both are willing to leave the past behind."
Even though Regina has tried to be honest with her unwillingness to forgive Snow, the woman still has the gall to look overjoyed. To her credit though, she refrains from an exuberant shout of exultation. Regina knows that Snow has longed for the day that the young woman who saved her from a runaway horse will return. That day will never come. She has endured too much tragedy to ever be that girl again. She can, however, become a better version of who she currently is, and since that is the best she can hope for, it is what she is striving for – and it is what Snow must learn to embrace.
It seems by her show of restraint that she is at least willing to respect Regina's wishes. That goes a long way towards indicating a permanent peace treaty between their kingdoms might be possible to negotiate in the near future.
Jutting her hand out into the space between their bodies, Snow gives Regina an effervescent grin that splits her prominent cheeks. "Those are terms I am more than happy to agree to, Your Majesty."
Regina is, for a brief moment, caught between wanting to breath a sigh of relief and a less savory desire to refuse Snow's hand out of sheer spite. It is strange to be both ready to bury the proverbial hatchet while also tempted to utilize Snow's proximity to end their feud in a more visceral and dishonorable way. The divergent impulses speak to how unsure she is of herself at the moment, at how tentative her state is in the transition between who she was and who she is becoming.
It feels rather like she is currently made of mortar, in that she has not yet solidified into her new mindset. While her evil proclivities still spring up occasionally, they have been for the most part relegated to a place of relative insignificance so that they are simply background radiation in her thoughts. Where she winds up on the spectrum between good and evil when the process of hardening is complete, she cannot predict. She supposes it depends on the outcome of her excursion to Oz with Snow. If Red lives, she cannot see herself ever digressing to the point where her objectionable inclinations are able to master her will. But if Red dies, there will be very little incentive to continue on her current path toward a better self. With this in mind, the vitality of this mission becomes even more pronounced.
After recovering from her bout of uncertainty, Regina accepts Snow's hand and gives it a firm, official shake. And then she goes on utter to the words she once could not have imagined contemplating, not to mention actually speaking them aloud.
"Very well, Queen Snow. We have an accord."