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 16 – A Merry Old Land
Before joining Snow and Charming in the courtyard, Regina stops by her bedroom to take her own advice and change out of her formal attire. In Oz, mobility and infiltration will be key, which means dressing down in plain yet flexible riding leathers of the sort she wears during Wolf's Time while taking Miguel, her beloved steed Rocinante's son, out for a run with Red. Coming home caked with dirt from head to toe on their first such outing had taught her a valuable lesson about selection of attire when on such an excursion.
Red loves to play every bit as much on four legs as two, so she had enthusiastically persuaded Regina to leave the dry safety of her mount several times to frolic through the woods like a couple of hormonal youths. Intermittent rains over the previous week had turned the forest floor into a muddy soup of limbs and leaves, making footing unsure while making an awful mess of her knee high boots and custom embroidered breeches. Needless to say, the fancy leathers she'd worn that day were all but ruined by the time the sun got low on the horizon. The fun they had did not prevent her from being a bit peeved about the destruction of what were very expensive garments. She remembers quite clearly how she had sniped at Red the entire way back to the castle, blaming her for the sartorial catastrophe. How silly she had behaved over something so inconsequential.
Upon entering the bedroom, her eyes immediately fall to the bed, which has remained unoccupied since she stumbled out of it days earlier. Since waking from the energy-sapped coma induced by fighting her sister and remembering what happened to Red, there has been no incentive to return to this room save to do as she is at present, namely to change clothes. Bathing and sleeping has been accomplished elsewhere, as she hasn't been able to muster up enough courage to do so within the space she has so long shared with Red. In her wife's absence, she has avoided their bed altogether, having refused to even touch it, not to mention crawling beneath the covers for an entire night. Without her wife tucked in close beside her, the bed will only feel vacuous and isolated and devoid of all warmth, just as it had when Leopold was alive. And that is a something Regina never again wishes to experience.
When Red is present, she does not have to worry about such feelings. There is rarely space more than an arms breadth between their bodies at night, and despite how she used to require plenty of room to avoid feeling suffocated, even that is too much for her to bear at times. There is nothing quite like the feel of Red surrounding her with a strong embrace and that heady, naturally sweet scent that soothes away every last worry. Red's mere presence is enough to ward off most of the nightmares Regina has long suffered from and is able to settle her whirling mind, which is often beset by matters of state that are perplexing if not outright aggravating to solve. She can't imagine laying in bed without that soothing balm to coax her to sleep. No doubt if she tried, all she would do is toss and turn restlessly, and if she did get any rest at all, it would be plagued by reliving the terror of finding Red sprawled out on the bathroom floor.
In the nights that have passed since Red was stricken down, Regina has not slept very much. Her vigil at Red's bedside has kept her occupied in her downtime from ruling and when exhaustion manages to overcome her, she often curls up against her wife's side, head tucked gingerly upon a slowly rising chest. That once reliable, noble heartbeat so weak under her ears is only ever able to lull her into a fitful slumber that is over before more than two hours have passed. More than once she has fallen asleep sitting beside the bed in a chair she pulled up close while clutching Red's hand and perusing some legal or commercial or intelligence document that required immediate attention, only to gasp awake due to a paralyzing nightmare that escapes recollection upon her return to awareness. Most of the time, she simply forces herself to stay awake and has survived up til this point on those inadequate cat naps.
Lack of sleep and a nearly constant tension have conspired together to push Regina to the limits of her composure. She is physically and emotionally drained, irritated, and scared out of her mind. She misses her wife with every fiber of her being. She hates her sister with the fury of a thousand burning suns. And she just wants to sleep for an entire week straight. Such a luxury, sadly, is one she cannot afford. Not until Red is safe or they are both in the grave.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, Regina meanders over to the closet. After stripping down to her undergarments and carefully hanging her dress upon a rack for Iris to store away, she twirls her back-length hair into a hasty bun and then picks out a pair of her most comfortable leathers. She shimmies into the breeches and buttons the tunic with practiced efficiency.
Dyed jet black, the garments are adorned by silver filigree about the breasts which runs down the sides of the tunic and pants alike as well as along with the edges of a high semi-circular collar. They are the ones she'd worn the first time she rode into battle at the head of her army. They are designed to be easily cleaned and to provide maximum flexibility as well as for effect. The latter is achieved by the intricacy of the filigree and the stunning amethyst gemstones she'd had attached to the shoulders, which are imbued with magic that made them glow and pulsate every time she drew on her powers. Wearing the leathers helps to bolster her energy as well as her mental defenses, for they are a reminder that she is a woman whose power stretches far beyond that which her title has bestowed upon her. She is an infamous sorceress, a warrior magician, and fear of her has sent many individuals of esteemed valor fleeing in terror.
Back straightening as she slides her hands down the front of her tunic, she preens before the mirror situated against the wall to the right of the closet. The feel of the tight but supple material against her skin is welcome after so long, and she is particularly pleased to note that they still fit perfectly. What few noble ladies she could tolerate interacting with on a regular basis had warned her that she was likely to gain weight after her marriage as they did. They had not accounted for the fact that she married a woman whose boundless stores of energy translated into frequent excursions outdoors, which incidentally afforded Regina plenty of physical activity to stay at peak fitness. And that is not to mention the high quality aerobics they practice while inside and behind closed doors. Sex with Red is often an acrobatic affair, usually characterized by lengthy exertions that leave both of them boneless and trembling as much due to the meteoric intensity of their orgasms as to them being physically expended. It really is the best form of exercise...
Now prepared for whatever may come, she abandons her chambers and quickly makes her way out of the castle. She sweeps into the courtyard feeling empowered and arrogant. While she may no longer be the Evil Queen, she is capable of equipping her former persona like a coat of proven, well-worn armor. Wrapping that dark, unflinching resolve around her body and heart allows her to accomplish objectives without any of the moral or ethical considerations that might cause hesitation.
In the coming hours, she will almost certainly be facing some difficult decisions. Hell, she may have to stoop down into the dregs to get what she wants, requiring her to further stain her conscience. The woman she used to be had gleefully inhabited the wrong side of the conscientious divide and had no quandaries about acting however viciously or deplorably she must to secure her goals. And while at present she does not wish to kill if she can avoid doing so, she is not above it should the need arise. To save Red, she's ready, willing, and able to baptize Oz in an ocean of blood.
Predictably, both Snow and Charming gape as they catch sight of her state of dress, and she levels a haughty smirk in their direction. Condescension, like a neglected old friend, greets her with a welcoming smile. Jefferson, who is standing close by, seems to have no reaction at all at her arrival, which is unsurprising when he has seen her at her worst.
"Should I meet my sister again," she says to the Charmings in lieu of empty pleasantries, "perhaps she will think twice about provoking me. I am not the weakling she once believed me to be."
"No, you aren't," Snow agrees. "But isn't that getup a little too intimidating? I mean, what if we need the help of the locals but they're too afraid of you to offer it?"
Regina shrugs as if the idea is inconsequential, which to her it is. Asking anyone for help is a last resort, as exemplified by reaching out to Snow. Had anything less than Red's life been on the line, she would have gone at Zelena alone. She has always worked best that way when in pursuit of unsavory ends. Her mission now may be noble, but it is as likely as not that she will need to get her hands dirty before all is said and done. The fewer people she has to interact with, the better the chance no one other than Zelena perishes.
"That is no concern of mine, Snow," she says, a bit ruefully. "The locals will help whether they wish to or not. I will compel them if I must, and by whatever means necessary."
Snow is, of course, correct that the simple folk of Oz will take one look at her and decide she is a nightmare come to life. That said, she has ways of coercing their aid if necessary. Truth be told, she is sort of looking forward to the opportunity to take her really scary side out for a spin. Which only reinforces the wisdom in avoiding confrontation wherever possible.
"Regina…"
"Save it!" Regina's nostrils flare as she cuts off Snow's objection. "I warned you that the end of my vendetta is not an indication everything has changed. I am still the same woman who cut down swathes of her enemies in battle without mercy or remorse. With Red's life hanging in the balance, you'd best reconcile yourself to the fact that I am likely to do things on this venture you will find reprehensible. I intend to avoid extremes where possible, but make no mistake, I am prepared to bloody my hands for both our sakes so that you may remain unsullied and thereby obtain the ingredients to make that cure. All I require from you is to come along, keep your trap shut, and do as I say."
Snow frowns at the brash, heartless nature of the speech, though that is the extent of her disapproval. "Fine," she concedes, "but you should also be aware that I will do whatever I can to ensure no one is unnecessarily harmed."
Regina inclines her head in perfunctory acknowledgment poorly imitating respect, though her subsequent words are filtered through gritted teeth. "From you, I expect nothing less." With Snow's petty concerns dealt with, she turns to Charming. "Have you spoken with Captain Rodrigo?"
"I have," Charming replies, arms crossed over his chest. "As soon as you and Snow leave, I'm going to review the Citadel's defenses and organize a permanent rotating guard for the Royal Wing of the palace. I'll personally inspect the walls once I'm done with that. I got some good experience with siege warfare helping Abigail defend her realm from George."
Regina read her spies reports of that conflict with great interest. Charming conducted himself admirably, as had Snow, in helping the newly crowned Queen Abigail and her knightly consort Frederick put down George's attempted usurpation. In spite of the realm being ripe for the taking in the wake of Midas' untimely demise, the move was all the same bold, daring, and quite unexpected. She had thought that old goat was gone for good after being run off by his replacement son and his dead rival's daughter. George always was resilient, though. And ruthless. His attack on the kingdom once ruled by his brother-in-law Midas was swift and brutal. The forces he assembled in secret, away from the prying eyes of even Regina's extensive network of spies, cut a swath of indiscriminate destruction through the realm. The invasion took a straight line from the border with Stefan's kingdom – an alliance of convenience to depose their mutual enemy – to the Capital and left thousands dead. Twice as many were wounded and more above that displaced by the loss of property.
Red had not been pleased she was forbidden from throwing her lot in with her old friends. Aside from the ghastly political impropriety of a non-allied Queen joining the fray, there was no way Regina was about to risk her wife's safety over a foreign conflict. Especially considering her intelligence officers assured her the war was well in hand for the rightful regime. With gold aplenty, Midas' military was the strongest of all the realms this side of the Great Indigo Ocean. They had been caught with their pants down to be sure, but were able to rally inside the Citadel and hold out long enough for Snow and Charming to ride to the rescue. How the insufferable do-gooders managed to sneak inside that impenetrable fortress in the middle of a siege, Regina never found out. But sneak in they did, and with their counsel and the benefit of their modest forces marshaled in the forests less than three miles away, it was only a matter of time before the tides turned.
News of George's defeat reached the Dark Palace less than a week later. Red was cross for a whole month besides while Regina remained unrepentant for what Red referred to as her 'unfair imprisonment.' Unfair it may have been, and a form of imprisonment if viewed from a certain perspective, but Red was alive and unharmed and Regina hadn't had to spend a month straight pacing and fretting and doing sorcery just to check up on her wife every half hour. To her, that was a victory worth being proud of in and of itself.
"I'm aware of your accomplishments," she says to Charming after a brief pause. Their shady history aside, her highly detailed intelligence of that event allows her to trust his competence in military matters. He really had performed brilliantly, especially for a former shepherd. She wasn't going to tell him that, though. "As I said, whatever resources you require to keep Red safe, you have them. I do not expect to be gone long, but if you feel the need to transfer units from nearby garrisons to reinforce the Citadel, do so. Conscript the nobles and arm the peasants if you must. Just keep her alive. Also, have Rodrigo supply you with any intelligence reports on neighboring realms he deems applicable to our present…precarious situation. Stefan's in particular. I sent my top officer there because of some villages that were burned. In light of Zelena's actions, I suspect she might have been behind those attacks."
Charming rests his hand on the pommel of his sword and nods. "You just get what you need to cure Red and make sure my wife comes back alive and in one piece. I'll take care of the rest."
The former Regina would do whether he wanted her to or not. It's the latter she has a problem with. Under normal circumstances, ensuring Snow's safety would not rank high upon her list of priorities. But these are strange times where she is being forced to make distasteful compromises. To gain access to the grove wherein grows the main ingredient required to cure Zelena's sleeping curse, Snow will need to be at the very minimum alive and conscious. Not to mention what Red would say if her best friend got killed on some totally reckless, utterly irresponsible mission to save her life. Guilt would eat her alive, and Regina could only bear that thought slightly more than she could failing altogether.
With that in mind, it behooves her to protect Snow as fiercely as she will have to her own life. It will take both of them to get this done. So if she has to swallow some crow and make a promise that churns the bile in her stomach, she will do so.
The things I do for love, she thinks forlornly. Aloud, she speaks using every bit of her willpower to sound sincere. "You have my word that I will do everything in my power on both accounts. That's the best I can offer, unfortunately, as there are no guarantees in this world or any other."
"That'll just have to be enough then. Won't it?"
Charming's rhetorical is as close to acceptance she is going to get. "I suppose it will." Having satisfied the shepherd king, she whirls on Jefferson, who is anxiously kneading the brim of his famous hat between his fingers while trying to appear nonplussed. "Are you ready to do your job, Mr. Hatter?"
"I am, Your Majesty," he says with stiff formality.
She nods and then gestures toward the ground. "Then lets get on with it. I have a wife to save, a sister to kill, and precious time is wasting."
Seeing the sharp glint of steel in her eyes, Jefferson obliges without delay.
Upon arrival in Oz, Regina immediately scouts out the surroundings. The party of three have emerged at a crossroads between a major thoroughfare paved of gleaming golden bricks. The well-traveled paths that intersect leave much to be desired in comparison to the brilliance of the yellow brick road.
Meanwhile, the Emerald City lies just in the distance. A tiny, dull speck of jade to the naked eye, it is yet near enough that it can be seen shimmering faintly against the waning sunlight. There is something about it, though, that strikes Regina as odd. The light emanating from the city has an almost sickly tint to it, as if the city were suffering from some sort of metaphysical malady that seems to be prevalent everywhere she turns her eyes.
This is not the splendidly majestic Oz of lore. The tomes she had read reputed the realm to be home to mystical beings beyond the pale of those which inhabit the Enchanted. Forests and glens and mountains are said to thrive here, all of them suffused with a pulsating liveliness that energizes every pore and molecule of the world.
Instead, everything seems on the verge of death. A heavy pall permeates the air. The grass is parched, brown, and brittle, and does not so much as sway in the low breeze which Regina notes smells of acrid decay. Upon the fringes of the forest nearby, she spots rows of trees which once must have been magnificent. Wide bows, sprawling limbs, and leaves that once likely sparkled in the moonlight are now gnarled and withered as if arthritic, drawing in upon themselves and drooping mournfully under the weight of forlorn looking foliage. It is a depressing sight, and she has her suspicions as to the root cause behind this pervasive degeneration.
Still, it is well in the evening, and though the timing of their arrival is unexpected, it is nonetheless a welcomed bit of happenstance. With night soon to fall, it will be much less risky to travel the ostentatious road – beside which they now stand – that leads to their first destination. The awful state of the local flora aside, their auspicious timing has her spirits up.
Grinning with uncharacteristic optimism, Regina turns to find Snow studying her surroundings much as she had. Her fellow monarch is currently surveying for threats in the way only a practiced outlaw can with sorrowful eyes that appear excessively piteous to the general rot that has overtaken Oz. Snow always had a tender heart capable of compassion for all life forms great and small, yet her time as an outlaw has hardened her enough that she remains vigilant for any sign of threats. Regina is relieved that she has not lost that vital survival instinct after so long sitting idly upon a cushy throne. As much as Snow's pure heart is required to open the gates of the Sacred Grove, Regina is also cognizant of the usefulness presented by a bandit princess who was a renowned forager, tracker, archer, and swordswoman. Those skills will come in very handy in a land as foreboding as it is foreign.
Jefferson, however, is another story altogether. Upon arriving, he ignores their environment as he flips his hat onto his head and then crosses his arms. Steely eyes meet Regina's unflinchingly. She narrows her lids at him, annoyed at his standoffish attitude.
"Something the matter, Jefferson?" she inquires. Snow turns at the sound of her voice, fixing their third traveling companion with a curious gaze of her own.
"This is as far as I go," he answers, determined posture equaled by the sternness of his tone. "I've brought you to Oz as agreed. But I won't risk my life for you, Regina, or for your precious Queen. I have a daughter to look after who needs her father to back come home alive. To see that happens, I aim to wait here for your return."
Regina's expression turns dangerously sour. "That is unacceptable! How am I to trust that you won't abandon us the moment we're out of sight?"
"Not my problem," he shoots back, clearly thinking about how she'd left him in Wonderland.
Perhaps, she thinks, this is his plan: to pay her back for her betrayal with one of his own. It is a bold move, but even if that is not his plan and his word is genuine, she cannot afford to take a chance.
Striding forward, she plunges her hand into his chest without warning. Before he can even flinch a muscle, his heart is being ripped free from his chest to the pleasing accompaniment of his pain-filled grunt. Snow shouts a feeble protest, of course, but Regina ignores it as she snaps her fingers to summon two pouches. One she fastens to her belt once Jefferson's vibrantly thrumming heart is securely tucked inside. The other she offers to Jefferson, who is bent over at the waist, panting as he hatefully seethes at her.
"Take it," she commands, leaving no room in her tone for refusal. He does so, taking the pouch by the strap.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asks, voice strained with anger and pain.
She doesn't bother to answer verbally. Instead, she plunges her hand into her chest and plucks out her own heart. Unlike Jefferson, she does not keel over in pain or give any sign of distress other than a slight wince. She has done this enough that she is prepared for the pain.
What is strange, however, is how differently she feels without her heart in her chest in comparison to the other times she has experimented with removing the vital organ. Normally all of her feelings would dull, dampened by the absence of the seat of her emotions. But here in Oz, she still feels strongly, almost but not quite as if her heart were still in place. It is a strange phenomenon, and she wishes to investigate it further but lacks the time to do so.
Without preamble, she offers Jefferson her heart.
"It's for this," she then explains, extending her arm, hand out, palm up, her half-black heart throbbing inside it. She glances at it, awestruck that so much color has returned to its surface. She knows Red is responsible for this definitive recovering, and seeing the proof of that is enough to further buttress her belief that she is doing the right thing. There is no limit to what she is willing to do to save someone whose love has proven capable of healing the darkest of hearts.
"So that we may trust one another," she continues, "I shall have your heart, and you shall have mine. Mutually assured destruction will serve as guarantee that we both keep our word. When Snow and I return, I will replace them where they belong. I swear on the life of my beloved that I will honor this agreement if you will do the same."
For a moment, Jefferson stares dumbly at her, evidently having trouble processing what she has suggested and done. But then determination straightens his shoulders and he gives her an abrupt nod.
"Fine. I agree. As if I have any other choice..." And then he takes her heart from her outstretched hand.
The moment Jefferson touches her heart, Regina seizes up with trepidation. Her hand hovers at the pouch resting against her hip, magic at the ready should the Hatter's fingers flinch a little too aggressively. Her gesture of goodwill has made her incredibly vulnerable, but it was the only way she saw that would assure Jefferson's compliance without comprising the mission. Now he has no choice but to wait and to keep his word. She will feel any pressure that he applies to her heart, and she knows he is aware that she will react accordingly.
To his credit, Jefferson handles her heart with appropriate care, and places it in the pouch with easy, deliberate movements. It is only after he ties the pouch shut that Regina relaxes.
She turns to Snow, who is looking a bit shocked at the development. Snapping her fingers in front of the gaping woman's face, she raises a brow when Snow looks at her owlishly. "Now, with that taken care of, I'd like to get a move on if you don't mind." She speaks with sarcasm so that Snow is perfectly aware that she is in control and that her statement is to be taken as a command not a suggestion.
Snow nods. "Okay, yeah." Taking a breath, she moves aside to allow Regina to move past her. "Lead the way."
Regina does so, stepping off of the grass onto the yellow bricks that gleam a gorgeous hue of orange in the low light of the sun. Before starting off down the road, she glances back at Jefferson over her shoulder.
"If all goes well, we'll return within a day's time," she tells him. "Wait for us in the woods nearby."
Jefferson scoffs derisively. "Are you serious? Without weapons? What if a lion, or tiger, or bear wander by? How am I supposed to defend myself?"
"There are plenty of trees around," she smirks. "I'd suggest you pick a tall one." And with that, she sets off down the road, leaving a spluttering Jefferson to fend for himself. She laughs at his indignation and merrily makes her way toward her target, ignoring Snow's disapproval boring hotly at into back of her head. The Emerald City awaits and nothing will deter her from reaching it.
It takes five minutes for Snow to catch up to the punishing pace Regina sets, and when she does, she steps into place at her former step-mother's side. Out of the corner of her eye, Regina notices that Snow is missing her sword.
A sable brow raises. "Decided to lend the Hatter your sword, did you? I'm not sure that is the wisest choice."
"I couldn't just leave him there defenseless," Snow returns, aggravation written all over her face. "That was unnecessary, Regina."
Regina grins. "Amusing, though. Still, you may come to rue that decision should we encounter trouble."
Snow does not seem convinced. "If we do, I'll handle it the way I always do. With a well placed arrow."
Shrugging, Regina refocuses on the yellow brick road, eyes following it up to the horizon where it becomes nearly invisible as it disappears into the city. "It's your funeral." And with that, the conversation ceases.
They walk for miles with nary a word spoken between them. Snow silently vacillates between watching their flanks with keen eyes, bow never out of her hand, and stewing on her irritation at Regina leaving Jefferson unprotected. Several times she opens her mouth as if about to make some biting remark only to decide against it. Regina hopes it is because she has taken the warning posed before they departed to heart. It really is best if Snow simply keeps her trap shut. The less that brat talks, the less annoyed Regina will become, thus the less likely it will be that Snow is reduced to a pile of smoldering ashes before their trip is over.
She may well need Snow to get her into the grove, but after? Well, that's another matter entirely...