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 25 – The First Rule
As Regina faces her sister for the first time since Red was cursed, she does so anticipating an attack. Good thing, too. She barely has enough space to draw her sword before the first of her sister's handful of black-clad goons is barreling at her, sword drawn and a nasty sneer marring his lips.
A lance of icy terror scrapes down the length of her spine. She scrambles for the grip of her sword, heart thumping a furious rhythm as she pulls the blade free of its scabbard right as her attacker gains proximity to launch his attack. Instinctively, she cranes away as he plunges forward, her back bending at an almost unnatural angle. A puff of air at her cheek indicates how close she came to having a razor-sharp sword bisect her face. How she stays upright, she does not know, nor does she question her luck any further as she regathers her balance and swirls on her opponent who has careened by, his reckless charge having propelled him some feet away.
Out of the corner of her eye, she notices that a hulking warrior with a shield is engaging Dorothy, four of his comrades forming a loose semi-circle around the formidable woman as she slowly retreats. Regina turns her head long enough to watch for a few breathless moments. With each step backward, Dorothy exchanges swipes of her short sword with the sabers held by the guardsmen while deftly dancing out of the way when she is out of position, blocking or parrying an incoming blow. After one particularly vicious stab is sidestepped, Dorothy relieves the attacker of his hand with one clean stroke of her blade. A scream followed by a gurgling croak announces the man's death by a subsequent long slice of sharply tapered steel against the tender flesh of his throat. And then his four comrades advance, murder in their eyes.
With great difficulty Regina tears her attention away from her half-encircled friend to focus on her own foe. Having recovered now, the man is holding his humongous broadsword in both hands, its blade faintly gleaming in the scant sunlight filtering through the gray snow clouds above. They study one another through a pregnant pause, and then he's moving again at breakneck pace, this time more under control. Knowing his weapon to be slow and unwieldy, she lets him swing first. The sounds of steel on wood, grunts and the accompanying shuffles of feet against rocky ground filter in from Dorothy's direction as Regina sweeps the blow aside with her lighter, more delicate weapon. She responds with a blistering horizontal swipe that grants him the same fate as his fellow now lying dead at Dorothy's feet.
With her own problem dealt with, Regina swirls to help her beleaguered friend, only to find the warrior impressively holding her own against three opponents. Another attacker has joined his comrade face down in the dirt, blood leaking out in an ever-increasing halo from his fresh corpse. Having picked up the shield of the man she killed, Dorothy moves like a dancer, fluidly and swiftly swapping between adroit defensive maneuvers and vigorous, precise strikes to keep her multiple attackers off-balance. Slowly, however, they are hemming her in against the mountainous walls spanning the width of the Grove. Soon she will be unable to tactically retreat. Without more ground to give to aid in her defensive measures, she will quickly be overwhelmed by sheer brute force.
Rather than immediately spring to Dorothy's aid, Regina risks a moment to search out her sister. The fighters accompanying Zelena are not without talent, but sword and shield pale in comparison to the danger presented by a magician, especially one as strong as Zelena. Regina spots her half-sibling standing not very far away, a hearty stone's throw perhaps, watching the fighting with waning enthusiasm. Clearly things hadn't gone the way she anticipated, which pleases Regina immensely.
She glances at Zelena's side to an unfamiliar woman, a warrior with high cheekbones, long arched brows, a wide pouty mouth, rich brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and piercing blue eyes that seem to cut Regina to the quick. Stature at least equaling Red's, arms crossed over her chest, and womanly curves wrapped in unadorned black leathers with a wicked looking sword strapped to her hip, she cuts a striking figure. Violence lurks just beneath the surface of her carefully controlled posture, and judging by the scowl plastered across her face, she is even less impressed with the way the situation has developed than her leash-holder.
"I've brought along a bit of insurance," Zelena says, glaring hatefully at Regina. "Fastest blade in Oz. Isn't that right, Jilly?" She then glances over to the warrior at her side, who issues a grunted confirmation. "Well, go on then and take out the trash, won't you, doll. I don't just keep you around to look at. Earn your keep."
So this is the famous Jilly. Regina remembers the soldier she killed who proclaimed this woman's beauty was only matched by her peerless skill with a blade. One assessment is true enough, although the sinister grin that spreads across the addressed warrior's wide, cherry-painted lips has no business marring a face so attractive as to be distracting. No doubt the woman uses her rare looks to gain an advantage over her opponents, which statistically would be mostly male, and probably to great effect. Regina ought to know; she used the same tactic, and quite shamelessly.
Recognizing she has little time to help Dorothy before she is set upon by this new threat, she takes a chance to summon a fireball. In one fluid movement, she turns and sends it flying in the direction of the men penning Dorothy between their angry weapons and the unforgiving sanctuary wall. She does not bother lobbing any more as it scores a direct hit. The man on Dorothy's right instantly catches on fire and scrambles away like a chicken with it's head removed, screeching at the top of his lungs. With nothing more she can do for Dorothy, Regina returns her attention to the woman Zelena called Jilly.
"Nice aim," Jilly says as she approaches, a pretty voice to match her pretty face. Startling blue eyes twinkle as she strides toward Regina, posture nonchalant as she draws a hand-and-a-half sword from its scabbard. Her gloved fingers grip the weapon with a loose but stable grip indicating plentiful experience with sword play. Zelena's claim of the woman's prowess with a blade sound less like boasting now and more like a simple truth.
"I try," Regina replies, grinning wryly. Falling into step with her foe, they begin circling one another just out of blade's reach. Regina is a coil of barely repressed energy while Jilly exudes a confidence born of many victorious contests.
Jilly returns the grin, the cut of her cheeks exaggerating in a way that accentuates her undeniable attractiveness. "Hope you're as good with that sword as you are with magic. Been a long time since anybody lasted more than half a minute with me, so I'm dying for a challenge."
"If you're that desperate, why don't you come find out, Jilly." Regina sneers the woman's name, causing the striking warrior's features to cloud for a split second before smoothing back out into an easy smile.
"Believe me, I intend to. It's Jillian, by the way, not that Zelena cares. Or you." She gestures absently between Regina and her sister with her free hand. "But it's always been my belief that a warrior should be called by their proper name, a concept my own sister never could grasp. Stupid bitch never learned to stop thinking with what was between her legs."
"We have that in common, then," Regina says, purposefully eyeing Zelena, which elicits a bark of laughter from Jillian that has Zelena scowling.
"You're funny. I like you. It's really too bad I have to kill you," says Jillian, then abruptly glances toward the wall as the sound of combat from that direction peters out. Regina's fireball did its job. At Dorothy's feet lay two dead men, their equally dead fellows not far away, one of them still on fire though he has long since stopped screaming. Expression thunderous, Dorothy begins to stride toward Jillian only to be stopped by Regina with an upheld hand. This is her battle and no one will be fighting it for her.
"Why must you kill me if I may ask? Besides the obvious, I mean," Regina then says to her opponent. She waves toward Zelena, who is now visibly upset at the turn of events. Apparently Jillian is supposed to be doing less talking and more killing.
Jillian shrugs as if Zelena's presence is a mere formality not worthy of discussion. "I fight for her because I like it. Killing is fun, and I'm great at it. Working for your sister gives me plenty of opportunity to have a good time." There is an edge behind her blue eyes, though, the belies that explanation.
Regina's eyes narrow. "No, there's more. You're here for a specific reason."
"My reason is my own." The reply is little more than a growl.
Touchy, Regina thinks, now wanting the story even more. Rather than press, however, she settles for the intrigue of mystery. Precious time is being wasted.
"Suit yourself," she says, adjusting the grip on her sword. "Ready to get on with this? Or are we going to talk ourselves to death?"
"Let's do it. You get first move, though. Never let it be said I was disrespectful to my elders," Jillian says, then throws Regina a saucy wink.
They circle one another for another few seconds before Regina figures she is, indeed, going to have to make the first move. Jillian evidently was not idle in assessing the strategy she used to defeat her first attacker and is not about to repeat his fatal error. So she is as observant as she is sassy. Her appreciation of the woman increases even as they stare each other down, sizing one another up. Blood rushes in Regina's ears, terrible anticipation settling into her bones and tensing her muscles. She takes a deep breath to calm herself. Discomfited nerves in a sword fight will get her killed. In response, Jillian's pupils narrow and the muscles in her neck twitch. She, too, readjusts her grip on her sword. Regina springs forward at that very moment, arcing her blade overhead toward Jillian's shoulder.
As expected, the blow is parried and her blade brushed to the side as her opponent shifts into a wider stance. The response from her counterpart is a looping slash at shoulder height that is blocked in the nick of time. Steel shears against steel, creating a tiny shower of sparks as two fine blades grate against one another. Regina puts her back into it, pushing Jillian away and rushing forward to offer a sharp jab at the woman's waist that is swept aside. She quickly regathers momentum, then follows up with more forceful stab at the pretty warrior's upper chest that is also batted away. Jillian swirls then, bringing her blade around at terrific speed toward Regina's head. She ducks under it, the air whistling as it passes over, and then ducks out of range to reorganize.
Jillian grins at her. Regina grins back. The thrill of battle descends upon her in earnest. With a cry, Jillian springs at her, unleashing a flurry of attacks that Regina counters, some of them only barely, and then answers with her own series of slashes and jabs. Time slows down into a crawl, the only sound she can hear the clanging of steel and the scuffling of boots against the hard, cold earth. Sweat beads on her brow, turning into lines of sweat that roll off her chin as seconds turn into a full minute and more. The muscles in her shoulders, arms, and legs burn with the effort to keep up with Jillian's blinding speed and nimble dexterity. Her only solace is that she is having the same effect on her opponent, judging by Jillian's increasingly labored movements.
After another frenzied sortie from Jillian that visibly drains her, they settle into a long, drawn out series of slower exchanges, including a few elbows and fists lashing out at faces, some of which find purchase. Again Regina loses all concept of time as she sinks into the inundating rhythm of battle. There is only parry and respond, stab then roll, evade then slash, duck then punch. Then, just when she is starting to get an edge, she makes an error. She misjudges the angle of her opponent's attack so that it is only deflected by the tip of her sword. The contact, glancing though it is, sends a jolt down the length of the blade, temporarily numbing her fingers. She almost drops her weapon but is able to resecure her hold just in time to knock away a swipe at her throat. Unfortunately, she is off-balance, and Jillian uses that to launch a kick to her midsection that sends her sprawling backward.
After rolling heel-over-head, Regina scrambles to her feet, lungs burning, only to find Jillian also panting for breath. Still, the woman is vibrant with life, eyes gleaming and lips spread into a grin indicative of battle joy. There was truth in her earlier answer that she loves this, the deadly stimulation of combat and the prospect of a kill. It is a thrill that Regina shares. Little else is as euphoric as when sickly sweet bloodlust dwindles focus down to one narrow point and causes movements become automatic and decisive, when all that matters is the next breath, the next heartbeat, the next second of life that burns with an intensity that cannot be replicated outside of warfare. Were circumstances different, she thinks she would have much in common with Jillian.
In that brief window where neither are in a hurry to get back to the business of killing one another, Regina laments they have come to blows. This is a woman who is near her equal with the sword, which puts her in select company. Few outside of Mulan can match her in a fair duel, and yet Jill has done precisely that. Were it not for the warrior being employed by Zelena, she would be happy to extend a lucrative offer of her own.
"I understand how you feel now," she says, and when Jill frowns in confusion, parrots the woman's earlier words, "I like you. It's too bad I have to kill you."
"I'm not dead yet," Jill says, a crooked smile forming.
Regina hums a concession, then sees an opportunity she cannot pass up. This may be the only time she ever speaks to this woman again, and there are things she wants to know.
"You will be soon, though. And for what? The thrill of combat? The high of chasing death? Come now. Why are you really here?"
Jillian's brows draw in tightly, and for a split second it appears she is going to brush off the question. But then her features relax and she nods. "I guess there's no point being secretive since I'll be the one walking away from here. Alright. If you wanna know, I'm here for my sister."
"Your sister is also cursed?" Regina asks, assuming the Jillian is after the same thing she is within the Grove.
"No." Jillian's full lips stretch out into a grimace that swiftly turns thunderous. "My sister is dead. Killed by a snot-nosed bastard of a prince who used her up and then threw her away like trash. Told you she was a stupid bitch, but she was my stupid bitch."
"As you can see, there are no princes here," Regina says, ebony brow arching. "If you're looking to slay one, I fail to see how you can achieve any satisfactory vengeance by killing me. Or Dorothy for that matter."
"I'm not after either of you. The prince that killed my sister is dead, too. That disgusting old pervert Behemoth denied me the pleasure of wiping the arrogant, conceited smirk off his face forever." Pausing, Jillian eyes Regina, and slowly starts to smile. "Fortunately for me, he has an identical twin brother. Sort of a fitting cosmic justice since me and my sister were identical twins, too. And the prince's brother? Well, he eventually became a king. And as it just so happens, his queen is right on the other side of that door." She points languidly toward the gate. "After I'm done with you and your burly, fairy-loving friend over there, I'm gonna gut that blue-blooded bitch then send her entrails, along with her head, to her beloved husband. Maybe then Jack can rest in peace."
Hearing the tale sparks a familiarity in Regina that she dismisses out of hand. Her only concern now is the threat to Snow. For whatever reason, it lights a fire in her belly that spreads up into her chest, a burning that narrows her sight and transforms her visage. No one threatens Snow but her!
"I'm afraid your unfortunately named sibling will have to remain in Hades' care," she says, glaring ominously in Jillian's direction. "Snow White will leave this place alive. As will I. You, on the other hand, will join Jack very soon. Please give her my regards when you greet her in the Underworld."
"I'll do that when I see her in another thirty or so years."
With confidence like that, Regina thinks, it is little wonder the woman has never lost a fight. Sadly for her, it's not going to help her today. She's never fought me before.
"More like thirty or so seconds," Regina says, correcting Jillian's statement with her own undiminished confidence. Jillian may be fighting for revenge, but Regina is fighting for love. As someone who has done both, she is the one with the clear advantage. Revenge is a fine motivator, but it is also an inherently destabilizing one. The longer one is driven by vengeance, the more desperate and reckless they become. Love, on the other hand, is innately entangled with hope, which means she is more likely to retain control over her emotions when circumstances turn dire and the situation looks bleak.
"Confident. I like it," Jillian says, tipping her head in respect. "Let's see how well it holds up to reality. Time to finish this. I've got other places to go and people to kill."
Regina smirks at the enemy she has quickly come to admire and then beckons her by waving her fingers. "I'd hate to keep you waiting, dear. Bring it on."
And then they are on each other again, a blur of motion and sound and fury. As before, they are evenly matched, though this time there is a sinister edge to the violence rising between them with every swipe of sword or butt of an elbow against a cheek. Both sense that the conclusion to their contest is imminent. Twice Jillian nicks Regina's leathers, once at her left shoulder and again on her left thigh, and she manages to connect a surprisingly powerful right cross after a combination of a sword jab that Regina sidesteps and a swirling reverse slash that she ducks under. Meanwhile, Regina scores some hits of her own, another high upon Jillian's cheek that leaks blood down the whole left side of her face, one to Jillian's sword arm in the meat of her triceps, and a broad diagonal slice to Jillian's stomach. She makes a mental note to thank her leatherworkers with a handsome Yule bonus, for whereas hers absorbed most of Jillan's hits, Jillian's did not do the same.
Upon studying her bloodied stomach, Jillian's eyes flash with distorted anger and she shouts a curse as she charges forward. Their previous exchanges are paltry in comparison to the brutal altercation that follows. Not an ounce of strength is spared by Jillian, who puts all of her energy into hacking at Regina's body with wild swings that, while forceful enough to remove a limb, lack any of her previous precision.
Regina does not attack, just lets Jillian tire herself shouting and slashing and kicking as she bobs and weaves and block. Both of them are pouring sweat now. It stings Regina's eyes and makes it that much harder to deflect the fierce barrages being leveled at her. The strategy is working, though. She can see Jillian on the precipice of a fatal slip-up. There are moments when the woman's berserker onslaught is almost too much for her to counter, such as now when she recovers too slowly from a blocked overhead strike to completely evade a jab at her side. Fire erupts midway down her rib cage, her leathers having finally given way to a powerful blow they could not turn. She staggers away, feeling liquid warmth trickle down her side and hip. But then, just as she is about to panic and scramble for a new tactic, an ill-advised lunging uppercut swipe from Jillian that she twirls away from provides her the opening she needs. Overextended, the warrior has left her entire right side open. Moving faster than she ever has, Regina completes her turn, brings her sword up to chest level, cocks her arm, and drives the blade through Jillian's chest at an angle that ensures it pierces her heart.
A gasp precedes blue eyes blowing wide. Then a sigh escapes Jillian's lips and she drops like a stone, taking Regina's sword down with her.
"Well, that's a disappointment. I had such high hopes for that one. Oh, well. Disposable minions are not all that hard to come by," Zelena says, strangely no longer scowling. Instead, she glances down at Jillian's body, studies it with a disconnected gaze and then lifts up a smirking visage to fix upon Regina. "Good job, Sis. Jilly was the best with sword I had met. Not a small feat taking her down. Especially since I caught you with your pants down. Thought you'd give me the old slip, eh?" She moseys toward Regina, hands clutching her skirts, hiking them up to her ankles to reveal a pair a glittering red slippers. "I'll admit," she says as she comes to a halt less than twenty feet away, "your little diversion was a clever ruse that had me going for a bit. Too bad I installed wards all over this area to alert me to any trespassers."
"You're the trespasser here, witch," Dorothy says, drawing to Regina's side, face twisted into a sneer. "The Grove belongs to no one!"
Seemingly enjoying Dorothy's reaction, Zelena replies, "Possession is a mere matter of strength, my pretty. Strength to take and strength to defend. So long as I am the strongest person in Oz, whatever I wish to claim is, in fact, mine. I invite you to prove otherwise..."
"You wouldn't be so confident if Ozma was here," Dorothy growls, hand going to the pommel of her sword. The action does not go unnoticed.
Zelena rolls her eyes as if exasperated. "But Ozma isn't here, is she? It really is too bad her bones are rotting in the Deadly Desert. I'd have liked to have a tango with a half-fairy mongrel whose infantile idealism was responsible for delivering Oz into my much more capable hands." Pausing, she strides forward half a dozen steps, her expression turning increasingly vile and mocking. "Who knows, maybe our duel would have evolved into a mating dance. You know violence is an aphrodisiac to many fairies. They say in the ancient days before humans arose from the dust that fairy battles always eventually devolved into mass orgies. I'd quite liked to have been involved in that to be honest. Sounds like an absolute riot of a good time. Also, I've always wondered if it's true their kind can copulate for hours. Perhaps Ozma could have taught me all about that. Hell, maybe she would have even let Glinda join in on the fun. You know, come to think of it, one for each hole is a delight I'll bet that puritanical waif would secretly relish. It's always the holier-than-thou sorts that are the dirtiest in bed..."
Regina catches the glint of steely outrage in Dorothy's eyes that tells her the situation is about to go south fast. Swearing internally at sister's uncanny ability to be despicable, she braces herself accordingly. But before she can even summon her magic, Dorothy springs forward with a cry of outrage, drawing her sword as she charges. Without further preamble, she swings the weapon in a mighty arc toward the witch's head.
Zelena, appearing as though she is having the time of her life, merely ducks out of the way as Dorothy careens past her. She does not waste the opportunity and utilizes the space between them to summon a spell with such alacrity that Regina cannot even react. In a flash of jade light, Dorothy is encapsulated in crystal, sword poised to charge again, just as she was when Regina discovered her back in the Emerald City.
Regina cries out in dismay at her friend's imprisonment.
"Ah, the heroically inclined," Zelena says to her around a smarmy grin as she paces back into Regina's line of sight. "So pathetically predictable. Her cute little crush on the dearly departed made her so very easy to provoke." She then slowly circles the encasing holding Dorothy, appraising it languidly. "I must say, I really do favor her in this form. She's quite lovely isn't she? All hard lines and strong features. Not a prototypical feminine beauty like my dearly departed Jilly or that stunning beast you collared for yourself, but a specimen worth appreciating nonetheless." Crystalline blue eyes flit up to her then. "I'll be sure to put her back in place when I'm done killing you, Sis. Knowing she was watching always made my private recreation so much more...well, fun."
Furious beyond description, Regina squares herself to her crazy half-sibling. Her magic thrums at her fingertips, begging to be unleashed. Lips curling in disgust, she spit out, "You really are one sick bitch, aren't you?"
Zelena tuts, still grinning like she's already won. "Such language. Tell me, did Mommy let you speak that way around her? I dare say not. Must have washed that dirty mouth of yours out with soap more times than you can count."
"Good thing it was me she raised then," Regina retorts, hatred burning in her eyes. "If it had been you, she would have been washing out other things. I imagine that would have been extremely unpleasant. Seems unlikely, though. Judging by your inclinations, I'd wager you would have relished that sort of treatment from whomever the gods condemned to the miserable existence of raising you. Maybe you'd have even begged Mommy and Daddy for it. In fact, they probably realized what a degenerate they rescued from the wilderness and wished they left you to perish out there where they found you."
The barb hits home just as Regina intended. The art of insult is, evidently, a genetic talent.
Zelena's eyes flash dangerously as her smile falters. "Careful, Sis," she warns, speaking through gritted teeth. "Another one of those rude comments and I might decide to take my sweet time with you."
"Oh, so, you are still laboring under the false assumption that you can beat me?" Regina replies, suddenly perking up at the effect her goading is having. "And that after you failed so spectacularly back at my home? You must be daft, Sis. Has that carrot top of yours rooted down into your brain and scrambled it?"
Zelena ignores Regina's mockery of her hair color and dismisses the reference to her failure back in the Dark Palace with a wave of her hand. "Bah," she scoffs. "Your victory was an aberration that shan't be repeated. I merely had not expected such a show of power from a weakling like yourself. I'll admit, I was suitably impressed. Rest assured, however, I learnt my lesson. I am more than prepared for you now."
After smoothing her hand down the front of her leathers, Regina lights a fireball in her palm. The time for talk is over. "In that case, let's find out once and for all who the true weakling in our family is."
Zelena's lips quirk up into a malefic smile at the challenge. "Fine by me. I've been waiting for this for a long, long time. Finally we will put to bed once and for all the argument as to which of us is our mother's true heir. Game on, Queenie." And without further adieu, she summons a fireball of her own a shade of green that matches her glittering skin.
For a long space they stare at one another across the approximately twenty yard divide. Blue meets brown and no words are needed to convey their mutual contempt. This has been their destination since the moment Robin was murdered in front of the court: one final, glorious showdown, a contest between siblings for eternal bragging rights. Even if Zelena wasn't abandoned, Regina gets the feeling that the two of them would have been at odds. Perhaps their competitions would have been more cordial in that case, but the likelihood is low they could have co-existed in relative tranquility. Certainly not with their devilish mother encouraging their rivalry, as she undoubtedly would have. In such a scenario, Cora would not have been opposed to their frequent adversarial confrontations devolving into open conflict. So long as neither died, she would have encouraged it.
As it is, even without them having been raised together, them facing off here in Oz is the only variable that was not inevitable. Their personalities what they are, they were always going to engage in a duel to the death. Only to Regina, this contest is so much more about being better than her sister. It's about justice and vengeance, too. The mayhem and destruction and death Zelena has caused in Misthaven and beyond demands redress, and she is the willing instrument through which balance is to be returned to the scales.
If only her motives were so pure as that. It would be nice, for once, to be fighting solely for what is right. But she isn't. Not when her main reason for being here is Red. Red, who was caught in the crossfire of a battle only Zelena knew was being waged and who deserves retribution for her suffering. It is Regina's great honor to the be the delivery vehicle through which that retribution will be attained.
Regardless of happens here today, should she win or lose, it will have been for Red's sake. Regina allows that to be fuel, allows her rage to swell until it is cresting over the levees she has erected to protect everyone else from the savage creature that lurks within the shadows of her psyche. The pulsing wound in her side from Jillian's blade is blotted out as her fury rises alongside a memory flitting through her mind of Red on the floor with the cursed apple in her hand. It collides and then is superimposed over by another of Red comatose on the bed in the Royal Guest chambers, her skin flush with fever and her limbs unnaturally stiff. If Regina hadn't known better at the time, she would have assumed her wife was dead. The agonizing despair of that image burns through her like an inferno set loose upon a dry forest, and with it comes only intensely destructive heat.
Never has she desired to harm someone as much she does right now. Not even Snow after Daniel's death. Because as much as Snow was responsible for that travesty, Cora was even more so, thereby some of Regina's malicious intent – however small a portion – was deflected from her gullible ten-year-old victimizer. But Zelena is solely responsible for Red being sent hurtling toward the eagerly waiting arms of death. There is no ameliorating factor in her sister's decision to curse the most beautiful, decent, compassionate, loving person in all the word. Hatred and envy moved Zelena to those extremes, and today, one of those motivating factors will be revisited upon her. Poetic justice is about to be served and Regina cannot wait to dispense it.
Sensing that frigid spark of impending violence arcing through the air, both sisters toss their magical missiles at the same time. The fireballs clash midway between them, exploding into a shower of green and orange droplets of flame that rain down upon the clearing before the gates of the Grove. Some of them land upon the shoulders of Zelena's black dress, catching it on fire. As the witch recovers from their first volley, she snuffs out the fire with a puff of magic and then leers with malefic at Regina.
Boldly painted lips spread until gleaming white teeth are revealed. "Such a pretty show," Zelena comments, tone indicating she is thoroughly amused. "A display fit for royalty. And that was just the beginning. Now, let's see what else we can do, shall we?"
She then summons another fireball and launches it at Regina, which Regina deftly avoids by swirling in a circle and shifting to her left as she swivels. As she comes back around, she readies her own fireball and tosses it at Zelena the second she is in view. It screams toward the witch's head, and for a moment it seems as if Zelena has no intention of avoiding it. But then she sidesteps just before it smashes into her face, so that it glides by without causing any harm other than slightly singeing the curly ends of her hair.
"Close," she taunts haughtily, "but no cigar. Oh, little sister, you'll have to try so much harder than that if you want to take me down."
Regina growls, angry that Zelena is toying with her, which only intensifies her venomous animosity for the broccoli bitch. In response, she launches another fireball at Zelena, who retaliates with her own. As before, both projectiles miss their targets, though the margins are much thinner.
They exchange fire – quite literally – like this for several minutes, and the physical exertions of ducking and weaving and swirling to avoid each others spells banishes the cold altogether. Although Regina is certainly aiming to kill Zelena and knows her sister's intentions are reciprocal, their back and forth is mostly for show. Neither manage to land a blow on the other. Two of their fireballs collide between them as the first had, exploding in a cacophony of booming noise that rattles Regina's eardrums and creates a shower of molten plasma that sails into the open air of the pass only to dissipate into puffs of appropriately colored smoke. Most sorties sail by their intended targets only to harmlessly slam into the cliff walls of the mountain hemming them in on two sides or collide against the massive wall spanning the cavernous space hosting their duel.
After lobbing another dozen fireballs at her sister without scoring a hit in addition to evading Zelena's own volleys, Regina begins to feel a slight ebb in her magic. She knows she will have to switch up her tactics or else the fight will swiftly turn against her. Nothing is being accomplished besides providing entertainment to her certifiably insane sister, whose demented grin has not slipped for one second the entire time they have been locked in combat.
As Regina tosses the final fireball in a sequence of four, she works through her options, and realizes that ultimately there are few considering she does not have a lot of wiggle room. Every second she wastes dithering about with Zelena is a second she cannot get back, a second in which Red will have to endure imprisonment in the Burning Room, in which her body will be drained of vitality by the pernicious curse she is suffering under. Also, her energy reserves at capacity are almost certainly far exceeded by Zelena's. That she partially tired herself dealing with Jillian only complicates matters. Both of those factors lead her to conclude she will run out of steam long before her sister does. She cannot afford to allow their confrontation to reach that stage, lest she inadvertently expend herself and risk being incapacitated. Therefore this stalemate, short lived as it is, has to broken. It is time to lay it all out on the line and tap into her greatest asset.
Focusing on her unsearchable, undefinable, impossibly deep love for her wife, Regina does as she had insisted to Ozma she could do. Delving into the space in her chest she had felt the incredible surge of energy, she searches for that mysterious force that repelled her sister back home. For one dreadful moment, she fears it will fail her at the hour of need and she laments her decision to remove her heart to secure Jefferson's trust. Zelena, who is not an ignorant woman, perceives this brief bout of panic and advances on Regina with lustful eyes, sure she is about to secure her ultimately victory.
Just in the nick of time when Regina feels despair setting in, and despite her lack of a heart beating in her chest, another miracle happens. A flash of white streaks behind her eyes and with it comes an incredible surge of power that floods her body. Like a geyser unleashed from a thousand years of being bottled up in the dark recesses of the earth, waves of pure devotion and reality-shattering love spring from inside her and pour out with a force that wrenches her body forward. It demands to be unleashed with a desperation that cannot be denied.
To offer a more stable platform, Regina spreads her legs apart and bends them slightly at the knees before pushing her hands forward. A hoarse shout tears free from her lungs as molten beams of plasmatic magic burst from the palms her hands, singeing the skin around their exits. A resonating, bass whoosh reverberates through the horseshoe shaped canyon as the bright white magic crosses the distance between Regina and a shell-shocked Zelena. It moves too quickly for the Wicked Witch to avoid and slams into her chest, sending her sprawling backwards is a flurry of snow and dust. She groans when she stops moving, struggling to get up.
Her enemy being temporarily addled is an opening that Regina cannot afford to squander. Accessing her new stores of magic, she shoots another beam toward Zelena, only this time, her sister is unexpectedly adroit in her reaction. As if on reflex, a bubble of translucent green forms around Zelena, a shield which absorbs the energy of the white magic, much like the one Regina had utilized to bar access to Red back in the Dark Palace. As Regina's magic slams into it, it pulsates and groans in protest of a power more pure and potent than it is used to resisting. The shield will not hold for long, Regina knows, but it affords Zelena precious time in which to recover her composure. Though she has achieved an advantage, it is unfortunately a minor one.
If nothing else, though, she derives immense satisfaction from the fact that Zelena's smug expression is gone, along with her obnoxiously tall hat which was knocked from her head as she collided with the rocks. The bun her hair was twirled into is also hilariously mussed, leaving her with a rumpled and unhinged appearance that is absolutely delicious to witness.
"It's no fun getting knocked on your ass, is it?" Regina poses, smirking deliberately and with more panache than her sister had earlier. "But I have to say, rolling around in the mud suits you."
Zelena's own words being thrown back in her face do not sit well. She growls as she stands to her feet and then touches her hands to her magical shield. "I'm going to enjoy snuffing you out of existence, Regina," she says, and then begins to push against Regina's magic with her own. A ball of light the color of the inside of a honeydew melon forms as their disparate magics mix, repel each other, and combust. Arcs of lightning and sprays of roiling plasma shower the entire area.
Good thing we're on a mountain and not in a forest, Regina thinks. Else we'd start a fire that might kill us both.
The sheer force of Zelena's current of energy repels Regina far enough away that she can safely dissolve her shield. Once it evaporates, and with the dual strain on her power reduced to a single source, she levels a brutal counterattack. Unfathomable streams of energy pass through the green beam of magic, so much that Regina's own supreme source of power begins to give way under the assault. Slowly, inexorably, green surpasses white, and with each inch of progress, Regina is further pushed toward the far cliff wall. Channeling with all of her strength now, she taps into her reserves and unleashes her full might. For the briefest of moments, the white stream of magic is injected with purple, her dark magic she realizes, and the infusion succeeds in restoring a stalemate between them.
Unfortunately, realization immediately dawns like a harsh slap across the jaw. Unlike before in the Dark Palace, Zelena is actually holding her ground instead of being repelled. Her sister had been so confident in stating she was ready for their rematch and now she is proving it to Regina's dismay.
After another minute of intensive effort, she comes to an awful conclusion. Because Zelena seems to be completely unaffected by the huge quantities of energy they are both rapidly burning through, she has either found a way to hoard excess energy or the stores she has access to are vast beyond Regina's comprehension. Rumple was right after all, as he always seems to be, and not only about how superior Zelena's raw ability is to hers. It is clear now that her sister was anticipating this exact scenario, and even though she had been deceived as to the timing, she has Regina right where she wants her.
It has never been more obvious that this cannot be a contest of endurance. A battle of attrition is one she will invariably lose. Loathe as she is to admit it, her sister is clearly the superior magician, both in terms of potency and capacity. If she attempts to exhaust Zelena, she will fail. Her energy will be fully depleted long before her sister's, rendering her unable to defend herself. Or worse. Having never utterly drained herself, she has no idea what will happen. There is every possibility it could actually kill her.
Thankfully, there is a weapon she possesses that Zelena has shown a remarkable lack of. That weapon is, namely, wit. Again, Rumplestiltskin's words come back to haunt her. It is her ability to think creatively in the heat of the moment that will be required to defeat her sister. But how? Ozma's advice suddenly pops into her head, advice she had already been aware of but apparently needed reiterated to her in the hours before this fateful moment. People like Zelena, who operate on emotion, are susceptible to manipulation. The question is: to what end? How is she supposed to manipulate her opponent into making a fatal mistake in the middle of a witch fight?
That last phrase sends a chill down Regina's spine. Seemingly at the most inopportune time, she hears her mother's voice in her head.
When she was about fifteen, she started to get curious about her mother's magic. All of the typical enthusiastic questions ensued. What does it feel like to do magic? Can you walk on water or turn water into wine? Can you create life with it? Is it possible to summon ghosts or ascend to some higher plane of being? What's it like to fight with magic? Her mother answered most of her questions either curtly or obliquely. Except for the last one. The last one actually produced an in depth answer that in retrospect convinced Regina her mother knew she was going to become a fellow practitioner of the dark arts. In an hour long spiel she never forgot, her mother proceeded to teach her the thirteen practical rules that must be adhered to upon entering into a witch fight.
The first one blasts like a claxon in Regina's head. Loud and blaring, it announces the sole path out of this mess that does not end in her demise. She knows now what she has to do.
"I wish mother could be here," she calls out over the roaring of their dueling magics. Her voice is strained from channeling her magic, but obviously decipherable as she sees Zelena react to what she says. "She would be so disappointed to see her elder daughter struggling so mightily against the younger. You know, I spoke to Rumplestiltskin about you," at the mention of that name, Zelena falters just a bit, and her magic gives way a fraction of an inch, "and he went on and on about how much more powerful than me you are. I think he's finally losing his damn marbles. I just don't see it. I'm getting bored over here, to be frank."
"Let me cure you of that, then," Zelena grits back, and then emits a shrill shriek as she pours herself into her spell.
This, Regina knows, is the tricky part. If she makes one wrong misstep, judges her movements incorrectly by a fraction, she will almost certainly die. In a calculated gambit, she dials back her magic by small increments until Zelena is beginning to grow overconfident, at which point she totally extinguishes the flow altogether. With all resistance eliminated, Zelena's verdant stream roars through the unoccupied space between them. Just as the green beam is about to ram into her chest, Regina twists her torso so that it impacts her shoulder. The resultant blow doesn't kill her, though it is still forceful enough bore a hole through her shoulder. It also sends her hurtling backward like a rag doll tossed by a rampaging ogre. She slams into the cliff wall at terrific speed, knocking the wind out of her.
She lands in a heap upon the ground, temporarily dazed. Her entire body aches and her shoulder is screaming bloody murder, but she is alive and mostly in control of her faculties. When she hears rather than sees Zelena approaching, she rolls over with a pained grunt to a seated position so that her back is leaning against the sheer cliff wall. Blood leaks from her nose and she can feel a trickle of wetness tracking down the back of her head. For effect, she coughs roughly and groggily lolls her head in between winces of agony, hoping to convince her sister the collision discombobulated her much more severely than it did. Through purposefully unfocused eyes, she can see Zelena's insufferable smirk.
"Not so cocky now, are we?" the green witch mocks derisively.
"I've had...worse," Regina grits out, her wounded side vociferously protesting once again. She gives her sister a bloody smile, her teeth stained from where she'd bit the inside of her lip. "Felt like...an ant slapping me compared to mother's...heavy hand. Also seen better tricks...out of Red's wolf. How'd you ever conquer...this place?"
Zelena's eyes glint and she kneels down at Regina's side. "Here. Let me show you."
Regina holds her breath against what she knows is coming, and barely restrains a grunt of protest when Zelena's hand plunges into her chest. But this is exactly what she had planned, and she delights in the noise of utter shock her sister makes at finding that there is no heart inside for her to snatch out and then crush. All pretense over, Regina returns her sister's smirk while Zelena's eyes frantically flit from her hand stuck in Regina's chest to Regina's suddenly clear eyes.
Thank you, Mother, Regina thinks to herself, finding a pleasant irony in being grateful for her atrocious childhood. Out loud, she says, "Ah, yes, that's right. You weren't raised by Mother, so you never learned the Thirteen Rules of a Witch Fight. Let me enlighten you about the first: never, ever, bring your heart to one."
And with that triumphant statement, Regina plunges her own hand into Zelena's chest. Unlike her elder sibling, her fingers find purchase. As they tightly wind around Zelena's heart, she whispers a command for silence and stillness from her new thrall. As an experiment, she gives the organ a squeeze, reveling in the gasp of pain that comes from her suddenly helpless sibling, who is completely unable to respond due to the enchantment binding her in Regina's service.
The battle is all but over now. Feeling the euphoria of victory flood her system, time slows down and the earth ceases movement as she leans in so that her nose is nearly touching Zelena's. This close she can see how big and brilliant her sister's blue eyes are and how unnaturally pretty she is. Just for a moment she laments that they did not get the opportunity to grow up together. Behind the lunacy, she catches a glimpse of the buried emotions she used to see in herself whenever the pressure of maintaining her mask got too much and it slipped just a little bit. They are in no uncertain order: loneliness, fear, pain, and desperation.
It isn't hard for Regina to decipher the underlying causes. Being an orphan leaves a hole in a person's heart from a young age, a hole that can never be filled. Red has talked about this at length. However much Regina and Granny and Snow love her, they cannot replace what she was deprived of. Also, from what she's garnered, Zelena manifested her magic very young. People fear the things they don't understand and that can harm them, so it is a safe bet that Zelena's parents, either one or both, used her magic as an excuse to ostracize her, which would only exacerbate her feeling of isolation.
Meanwhile, the fear isn't just from the recent downturn of her fortunes, but are a reflection a more insidious root. When Regina first learned how to harness her inherent magic, fear quickly replaced exhilaration. Being able to incinerate a human being with a flick of the wrist can be a seductive power trip, but it can also cause practitioners to develop of healthy – or unhealthy depending on their mental fortitude – fear of themselves. Magic is power that human beings are ill equipped to handle. It takes so much diligent instruction to mold a capable magician who is not a danger to his or herself. It is not unheard of for novices to unintentionally self-destruct upon attempting a spell over their competency or which overtaxes their energies. Again, Zelena having manifested young would mean she would be especially susceptible to this innate fear. No doubt, her adoptive parents did not help, either. In some realms, magic is looked upon as evil and openly persecuted. Regina gets the sense that Zelena is familiar with such persecution.
The pain she sees has the most clear cause. She's seen it a thousand times before, and even more than that in herself when she's had a bad day then gets in front of a mirror. It's the look of someone who has walked through the humiliating crucible of abuse at the hand of a loved one. Wounded animals freed from their cruel owners reflect the same sorrowful glint in their eyes. It's honestly pathetic to behold. The consequence of abuse is generally the same, almost as if the person has completely given up due to losing all concept of self-worth. For the longest time, Regina shifted her sense of her own value into her magic and she can tell at a glance that Zelena did the same.
As for the desperation, it is perhaps the hardest for Regina to observe because it is excruciatingly obvious that deep down all Zelena ever wanted was to be loved. And how does she know that? Because it's all she ever wanted, too. Abused children are kindred in having this same desperate desire in them to be loved by someone, anyone really, who can look past their ugly exteriors and undesirable traits to see the vulnerable heart beating within their chests. All the hardness they develop as they mature is a shell to protect that soft underbelly from the repeated injuries sustained when they were too young or naive or stupid to figure out what was happening to them was wrong. There is nothing more heartwrenching for her, as a twice over victim, than to see this look in someone else. And it is far, far worse than she could have ever imagined to recognize it in her own flesh and blood.
Now more than ever, it becomes agonizingly apparent that she and Zelena are more alike than they are different. And with the end literally staring her in the face, she can't help but wonder how things might have been had their mother not been a selfish, heartless woman that kept them apart solely to use Regina for her own nefarious purposes. Might they have been the best of friends? Or was her initial assessment correct in assuming they would have been bitter rivals still, unable to shake off the heavy hand of inherited traits that made them equally susceptible to transformation into monsters? Either way, it didn't really matter anymore. It is far too late for what ifs. Cora's care for nothing other than her own interests condemned both of her daughters to their current fates. Being shaped by the misery of their mother's choices on their behalf meant this path that ultimately lead to their deadly confrontation was unavoidable.
The only difference now between them is that where Regina eventually let go of her vendetta against Snow for the sake love, Zelena could not. Her sister's single-minded obsession for revenge drove her far beyond the redemptive ability of any form of love. A pardon now would be pointless. Zelena will never let go of her hate, will never stop trying to smudge out the pain of her past through countless acts of violence and unspeakable atrocities, and she will never, ever stop trying to erase Regina from existence. As such, Zelena poses a perpetual threat to everything Regina holds dear – Red in particular, who is already suffering as collateral damage – should she be allowed to live. That is something she cannot tolerate, blood relation be damned.
Before giving in to her darkness for one last time, and feeling justified in doing so to protect her wife, she leans in to give her sister a sweet, gentle kiss upon the lips. She does not offer it mockingly, but out of a genuine remorse – not for what she is about to do, but for the inescapable collision course their mother set them on that led to this horrific conclusion.
Zelena's eyes widen with shock at the unexpected act of tenderness. Unable to speak of her own volition, nor will she be permitted to ever again, she can do nothing but mouth out the word, "why?"
"Because I'm sorry it has to be this way," Regina tells her, and then leans in to whisper against Zelena's cheek. Zelena tries to jerk away unsuccessfully due to being paralyzed by Regina's exertion of control upon her heart.
"I truly am sorry, Zelena," Regina continues, hoping her sister can hear how much she means what she is saying. "I wish there was another choice, that I could see a way to save you after this. But I just don't. You are a danger to me, to my kingdom, and most importantly to my wife. For Red's sake alone, I cannot allow you to remain alive. Were I not a married woman with an obligation to her spouse or a Queen beholden to her subjects, I might have at great risk attempted to rehabilitate you. Even then, I am afraid we would have inevitably wound up in such a position as this, with one of us killing the other."
Backing away slightly, Regina looks into Zelena's eyes one last time, and speaks her final words to her sister. "As much as you've hurt me, I know this is not all your fault. I don't blame you for everything you've done. How could I when I have committed so many sins myself? Our mother sealed this conclusion to our story as siblings long ago. Before either of us ever really had a chance, she broke us without regard for what we might mean to one another. She is the true culprit, and I wish with all of my heart she was the one paying for her trespasses a second time and not us. But wishing is futile when reality must be dealt with. So when you see her in whatever fresh hell awaits you in the afterlife, please give her my regards. Tell her that Regina still hates her, and that when my time comes to join you both, I intend to spend my eternity making hers as miserable as possible."
Rather than pleading with Regina for mercy, Zelena's countenance darkens, becomes full of hatred and loathing devoid of even an ounce of remorse. The reaction only confirms for Regina that she has made the right choice. That reassurance does not make her next action any easier.
"I will see you there, as well," she says. "I hope we can start again then, in another time and place without our Mother's sinister shadow between us. And who knows, perhaps then you and I will at last be united in a common cause against the source of both our miserable childhoods. Whatever the case, this is goodbye, my sister." And after one final kiss to Zelena's forehead, Regina closes her fist, crushing the heart in her hand into so much dust.
A solitary tear slips free from Regina's lids as Zelena gives a guttural groan. Blood pours from her nose and the corners of her mouth, which hang open in a silent scream. Suddenly terrified at the end of her life, those brilliant blue eyes go as wide as humanly possible without them popping from their sockets, only to dilate, gloss over, and then twitch laterally a few times before the light behind them fades. Lifeless, Zelena slumps against Regina, who uses the momentum to guide her sister's corpse to her right side.
Victory has been secured but she feels anything but exultant. She is frozen to the bone and completely exhausted. Thus weakened and spent, she is unable to resist the pull of unconsciousness. Heedless of her attempt to fight it, her eyes roll up behind her lids and she collapses against her sister's fresh corpse. The smell of Zelena's thick perfume fills her nostrils. For the rest of her life, she will never be able to smell strawberries without thinking of how despondent she feels as her vision fades. Her sister is dead and for what? She is stuck in another world and Red is still cursed.
Her side throbbing and wet with blood, Regina finally succumbs to the encroaching blackness. As it swallows her whole, a curse rolls from her tongue.
"Damn you, Mother. Damn you for all eternity..."
And then she knows no more.
A/N: Well, the witch is dead. Poor Zelena. Forgive me for the abuse I subjected you to! It's all down hill from here folks.