(READ FIRST. Hi you amazing readers! I want to first offer my apologies, and lots of them because of how long this chapter took! I can't be too sorry though, I was plotting out how I really wanted this story to go. Anyway, I need to let you know this story will be finished and will be Outlaw Queen and while they are a major focus, so is Regina's past...Elsa, and everyone really because as I said it's me kinda taking on season four? I mean it won't be comparable, but it's all in good fun and helpful practice! Oh, and for you Elsa and Regina lovers, no worries I am all on board with them. LAST THING: Do offer your feedback, it helps very much. Have you guys been watching OUAT cracks? If you haven't seen them go to YouTube and be ready to laugh! I used to video edit but deleted my account, but I made a new one recently and gave cracking a go for the first time EVER. Yeah, totally said cracking. I left a link on my profile, if you want a new crack to laugh at! Lemme know your thoughts on it all, lovelies! xxx )
Within moments, hands grip at her wrist. She's restrained and wants to scream, but words aren't forming. Her mouth is moving that much is assured. Why can't a sound be heard? Her attempts to free herself are feeble and ineffective, but she pulls countless times before giving in and closing her eyes shut. Afraid if they open, darkness would be intent on encompassing her.
A sigh of relief escapes the boys' lips, his previously groggy form, has been pulled to a sharp awakening at his mother's screams. Those nightmares were vaguely familiar. He recalled that screaming from his toddler years, but he hadn't been aware of what was going on at the time. She would always welcome him to her side with hidden tears and guarded smiles before holding him close as he slept in ignorance. Henry did however, recall one notion; his hand would always grasp at her wrist and secure a light hold that firmly refused to lose its grip...no matter the amount of restless turns a night may have brought.
"You've dealt with this before, then?" The boy is quick to turn to the owner of the voice, undecided if he welcomed her company or disapproved of her intrusion on such a private ordeal.
"Yeah...when I was little I didn't really know what was going on. I just remember how it made her sad and I had to make sure she knew I was there, that she wasn't alone." He decides no matter if it was originally his intention, he couldn't lie to the blonde whose presence only rendered to be inviting. Her eyes held such a raw sincerity he had to avoid her gaze as he offered the explanation.
"That's why you grasped at her wrist." She nods to herself in realization before offering a soft smile. The gloves have yet to leave her, the covered hands grab at a throw pillow from the couch and she places it behind her in hopes for support.
"I want to be here for her too." She states simply before shutting her eyes and allowing sleep to overtake her senses.
All Henry can do is look onward, rather dumbfounded. The Ice Queen had never met the Evil Queen. Elsa had never met Regina, of that he could be sure. She held no pages in their story. What made her want to offer assistance? It couldn't be false; the emotion behind her gaze was far too prominent to be transpired. He concluded that it did not matter. Someone had come into their life and cared for his mom without a given thought. And yes, Elsa wanted Regina's help, but that had never implied she save the queen' life with the up most worry. Henry decided with finality, that he was going to like having Elsa around.
The gates are closed, but the continuous rain pads against the roof and yet another frustrated groan releases from grim lips. A flurry of ice escaped in a swirl of frozen fragments; the anger quick to trigger the fractals through quivering palms.
"Conceal it. Don't feel it. Conceal it. Don't feel it. Don't feel it." But it's without impression, the swirl of ice lengthens, shuddering out and engulfing the vast room with a crystal glaze. The mantra had yet to serve its purpose and contain the curse's repercussions; the new layer of frost surrounding her only supported the fact as her trembling fingers retract and slowly close into tightly balled fists.
Her breath comes out in a puff of snow and she shivers, leaning into the wall of the frozen bedroom. She wants to be swallowed whole, wants to escape the inevitable. Instead there are intruders, such is indicated when the door cracks to reveal the worried form of her parents.
"Elsa, dear…Are you alright?" The love is evident in their gaze, but so is the remorse. And no, she is far from alright, but they have her younger sister to attend to. They have a kingdom to rule.
"Yes, I was just attempting to gain some control over where the magic would hit."
Her voice breaks and she regrets trusting it to be steady during confrontation. Eyes are quick to look downward; it's a sign of respect and her escape from accountability.
"You're shaking, my dear. Perhaps, we can ask help of the troll people? They may offer a way to get rid of this curse." He means well, truly he does. Her father recommends this out of love, but how does she make him understand her desire is not of riddance... but of control? She aims to manage the instability of her magic because it was what had brought joy to Anna. Her magic was a belonging, one she had possessed since birth, and riding of it would rid of her. How does she explain as such to a king preoccupied with a land threatened by his own daughters' fearsome capabilities?
And so she doesn't.
"Yes, I've read there are ways to conceal the power, you can utilize a charm as a form of harnessing the power." If it's to be blocked, she can at least hold the decision of how.
"Like a pendant?" It's the first time her mother has offered a comment on the matter and it's only when the topic is aimed at removing the magic.
"Or gloves, which I find to be more fitting." And the distance in her voice is focused on a past that led the mother and daughter a drift, all the young girl can do is yearn for the mother that once held her. And she'll always say nothing has changed. She offered endearment at times, stating that being 'different had not made us love you any less', but it does and it has. But she has stopped saying as such, anyhow.
"I cannot love something I do not understand", words her mother had shared with a hand maiden in secret, whispered back to her by the winds of her own magic innocently festering because of her open palm. Her head could only settle on confusion at the spoken phrase, but her seven year old self had decided it was important to remember. Now the words would ring at her any time Queen Idun turned her way. She could express relief that the queen rarely met her gaze, but the rather bittersweet dilemma held only distaste for the daughter.
"Very well, we shall leave once the carriage is prepared." King Agdar states with a final glance at his daughters distraught form. He offers a hand to her wrist, but too soon he lets it fall and he is gone.
"I am sorry that it has come to this." The irony is not lost on her. It was her mother who could not even begin to accept the powers she wielded, yet it was only she who could understand that the magic she possessed was a part of her. Her mother knew the entirety of it was that closing the power off would ultimately be closing Elsa off all the same. But as shameful as it was to admit, a part of her wanted this just as bad as she loathed it. She wanted freedom from power that kept her mother's love at bay, from the nights her magic would take to its own accord and leave her exhausted and freezing in its wake.
The young girl can only offer a nod, but it's her symbol of acceptance and that is enough to start a smile on Queen Idun's lips. The flutter in her stomach can't be help. Yes, Elsa had acknowledged just how much it took away from her, but she would gain something she had been deprived of; a mother's love. It was unjust to say her mother truly did not love her, because she did. Her mother had tried, but when Elsa had turned ten and her powers strengthened, playing in the snow became a danger to her baby sister and her mother no longer desired to accept something that could only bring grief.
Anna had been six at the time and had wanted nothing more than a game with snow while the palace goers fell to slumber. Elsa had faired warning to avoid purposely using her magic and she had heeded it until she locked herself in her wardrobe and practiced. But Anna always found a way for them to play in the snow together at least once a week.
"We're sisters, Elsa! You're my best buddy, we have to play together if we're best buddies." She'd offer a toothy grin that would last for a brief moment, before her features would alter to a look of shock and she'd ramble of new ideas forming through her innocent mind.
"Unless- I'm not your best buddy, which would be weird because you're mine! But it's okay if you do have one, I mean as long as you still play with me...or I wouldn't have anyone to play with and-"
Her face wears the anxiety of such a thought and Elsa knows it's now her role to offer the reassurance of a flourishing friendship. That yes, they're best buddies and that would never change. And she would do just that as she was dragged down the stairs by the overly joyed little bundle that was her sister. She would start with her right foot; something the girl had practiced enough to manage the perfect step of ice as she walked. Anna would grab her tightly, and she would kick her foot to slide around on ice previously amiss. They always managed to have a snow ball fight; complete with sizable forts Anna made to be "palace snow protectors" but really only appeared as the piled up snow that they were. She would pout at Elsa's' work of crystal and mouth on about unfairness, but realize she could jump into hers and that was what made it the best.
Usually, it would end there. She recalled the awful course it had taken that night and visibly shuddered. Anna was not tired, her ginger hair bobbing about in the two ponytails she adorned and she pleaded to continue their play. Mistakenly so, Elsa had agreed.
She had been tired and wished to retreat to her bed, but Anna had begged one last game and with a stifled yawn she formed the first snow pile for Anna to jump on. Her sister would eagerly await the next, each higher in height then the last. She had blinked for a second after having just created a new pile, but Anna had already gained speed for the upcoming, only Elsa's instincts had slowed and she hadn't made one.
Hands darted out to catch her falling sister, but the carefree laughs halted when Elsa's strike had hit Anna instead of rescue her. All at once, she remembered the panic overwhelm her, the shouts for her mother...her father. The tears she wept, the confession that they had only been playing. She hadn't meant any harm, it had been an accident.
The magic hadn't struck her heart, the trolls offered to heal her and produce advice that Elsa be careful of her power as they prospered. If only she knew how, Elsa recalled thinking. Anna's hair held a streak of white, due to the accident it would remain that way. Her memories of the magic Elsa possessed however would be removed. It was her price to pay, so long as Anna would be alright. Elsa knew to keep her distance; the strip of white would stand as a keen reminder of the cruelty magic held. She would stay away from her sister.
"Elsa, she's gone!" No, she couldn't be gone.
Anna. She had to find Anna. She couldn't fail her, not this time.
"ELSA, WAKE UP!" And her brows furrow in confusion because she isn't seeing anything. Her eyes are closed, too afraid to open. But Anna, she's missing.
Crystal blue finally opens, only to land on a boy edging into hysterics. Sobs are escaping him and she can only watch limp with blunt confusion.
Anna isn't here. Anna isn't saved.
But it's Regina who's missing. Realization dawns and only adds to incomprehension.
She recalls last night and scurries to comfort the troubled son. The couch holds an indent to the petite form of his mother and Elsa is rather assured she has only recently.
"She looks to have just gotten up, have you checked her bedroom? Or the restroom, perhaps?" Her gloved hands offer soothing comfort along his arm and his cries lesson to remaining sniffles.
Her simple absence in the room had left him in abrupt panic, and she's left thinking the worst outcome. She can gather that there is more the queen, there is more to the mother, and she internally proclaims a promise to find out more about a women she once knew.
"I'm checking the bathroom, I didn't even- I just thought. I don't know-" she soothes him to a calm and he simply nods before taking steps by two as Elsa trudges behind to keep up.
"Mom?" He whispers it with closed lids, apprehension edged in the tone so plentifully that Elsa cringes that she may be walking to an open window and a fallen body.
But they're greeted by the sound of upchuck. And a sense of relief defeats the quaking sound of vomit.
Henry is rushing to her within seconds, the door is unlocked and Elsa thanks her stars as she steps in to find a small form hunched against porcelain, heaving and gaging through every groan.
"In fine, just food poisoning I think. Please- Henry this isn't a pretty sight."
And Elsa has enough of an understanding to know Regina wants support, but that Henry can't be it. Not for this. She ushers him out with encouraging potentials even though she's rather oblivious herself.
Her gloved fingers go to hold back Regina's dark locks, left hand lightly comforting her back with countless nothings to offer as distractions. One distraction holds accusation…and she can only purse her lips against the claim that Regina had lied to her son rather blatantly.
"You really don't need to do this; I'm used to the solo puking routine." But she's been kneeling for almost an hour, afraid she'll stand only to fall back down because of incapability. Never has she felt so pathetic. But she's turning towards the toilet again and can only offer a grimace after her stomach finally relents.
"Well this is one way to get to know each other." Her words are frail and the thin line of her lips is intended as a smile but the fatigue in her structure is fairly palpable to the blonde.
"What's got you ill, Regina?" Elsa rests her head on the bleached walls of the bathroom, a casual façade of relaxation in effect. It's rendered ineffective with Regina too unsure for any space to come between her and the toilet. She merely lifts her head to follow the conversation.
"Food poisoning is like, when you eat-"
"You don't suffer from food poisoning… that was the lie you told." And her words are delivered just as harsh as the blonde had hoped. But before she can make out a reaction; the dark hair falls to curtain Regina's face.
"I just," she has to turn and rid her stomach of contents she hasn't even consumed and she grows weary because dinner hadn't even been eaten the night prior. She's mystified as to where the contents are coming and she can only hope the pounding in her head will stop once the vomiting does.
"Some things occurred last night that altered my life quite a bit and I think my body is just letting go of the stress." It's the only explanation, but that would do to only increase Henry's worry.
"That's quite a way to explain, love." And it isn't Elsa response, but it's familiar…someone she could honestly do without.
"Get the hell out Hook." But her words are barely above a whisper, throat sore and heart substantial.
"Aye, you must understand I don't take pleasure watching her majesty rid of everything she's ever consumed and then some."
The smirk is evident, but Elsa's surprised to find worry in the strangers gaze.
"Well, then I suggest you return to your dearest Emma and keep her from "saving" things the way that she does." And the acid she wants in her tone is absent, but her stomach is no longer churning and so she stands from wobbly knees with gloved fingers providing guidance towards an awaiting Captain Hook.
"She feels awful, you know. Even more so after I delivered my 'I told you so' you know. I told that women not to mess with time travel and all she could offer are guilty eyes and a tale of 'Back to the Future'." He chuckles and sits on the plush bed, joining a rather apprehensive Henry.
Her head is spinning, but Regina manages a mainly steady walk to the chair by her bed, breathing relief as her body molds into the comfort.
"This is Elsa by the way. Elsa… this is Captain Hook. She's the ice queen, and you're a pirate with a hook you like to pass for fingers. Do get acquainted." As fire manages to return to her newly admitted persona, so do the brutal and harsh words she can't help but lash. She'll never admit to how compulsory it is.
"Lovely to meet a cold royal, your highness…I'm assuming you're connected to the rather steep layers of snow barricading the town? If you could be so kind as to stop it, I very much like having all of my ten toes." Elsa's quick to frown at the attempted humor, apprehending that the repercussions of her curse have found their way to even a new land,
"I cannot. Somehow my power wills there to be an endless winter wherever I am…there is a spell to counteract this, but I do not know how to perform it." This is it, the focus Regina needs. It dawns on her so absolutely, and it is but a flutter of delight. She can take this small opening and mold her victory. She can let Robin go back to his first love. She can allow Emma to start her life with Hook. She must prepare to melt this newly iced town, so she can do it all and offer no remorse to be felt. This is what would dignify her purpose, and it did not hinder her how little she believed it to be the truth. There was a such thing as will, and she could damn well will herself to this new insight. Regardless of anger no longer being her fallback, she still had magic. Gold knew the power it held and a new reason to use it was just what a hollow hearted witch would need to stitch some cracks. There was a spell to be located, ingredients to be gathered, and Henry to prepare for school...yes Regina had several obstacles to tackle and magic would be her sole guidance. Her son would hold to her love and she promised to not break from it. But she could allow a new reason to overtake the space meant for Robin; what had been exposed for a second chance at love would keep uncluttered for her own regain.
"Don't worry Elsa, we can find this book. Hook, I have this under control. All I need is for you to keep Ms. Swan in control and the hell away from what I am taking on as my concern." The words are firm and her voice has gone so far as to drop an octave.
No, she was no longer the evil queen. Regina could no longer confide in the anger of the past, even if that was exactly what she wished to do. The consumed anger had been released and she had come undone, had allowed vulnerability to come through. So no, Regina could not go back to the Evil Queen. But she knew how to be guarded. She could play the role of detached and it came to her almost as easy as pain did.
She'd locked her heart deep within her wardrobe and the weight no longer pushing at her chest permitted a long awaited exhale. Her stance went rigid as she rose up, former sickness no longer a concern to mayor Mills.
"Come on, Elsa." Her voice settles into a refined softness; exclusive to very few. She turns with a deep gaze of determination.
"Where are we going?" And the adjustment in demeanor does not go unnoticed, the affected shift too apparent to overlook. Nothing, however, is said.
"We are going shopping. A newcomer to Storybrooke deserves a proper introduction…and we don't do ball gowns here." Her words are delivered through tight lips, still pale in color after the night's feeble stance. Her head is throbbing and part of her discerns that if she does not sit, she will collapse instead. The rancid taste in her mouth is very much present and the room has taken to rotary. Her sons' eyes remain stationary on her swaying form, worried.
No. She's fine. The absence of her heart detains it from aching relentlessly inside her. And she isn't already habituated to Robin beside her at night. That isn't at all why she refused sleep in her own bedroom. No, and she is above all, not moldering over how punishing faith has been. She cannot- will not admit to the prospect of a baby, not when the father was never truly hers to keep.