A/N: This probably should have been done a few chapters ago, but due to violence and some disturbing imagery, this story's rating has changed to M.
Thanks to those who still read, review, and follow this story despite the infrequency of my updates. I am dreadfully sorry about that, but it sadly won't change anytime soon. Enjoy, and drop me a few words if you're so moved!
My undying gratitude to my beta, luthor.
~M
Edit: A/N2- a number of my lovely readers have expressed curiosity about the gold magic and Emma's involvement with it. It will be explained, never fear. Eventually.
Thanks for reading!
...
Chapter XVI: To Go Dancing With the Devil in the Pale Moonlight
"You know, Regina," Cora said almost lightly, pulling on specially shielded gloves as she regarded her daughter, lying lengthwise on the table. "I'm really rather disappointed in you. You've become incredibly predictable."
Stroybrooke's Queen remained silent, her eyes hooded and dark, her face expressionless. The tears had stopped falling, but their dried tracks remained in dark lines on her cheeks. In the silence, the whirrings and chirps of various machinery around them seemed all the louder.
"Nothing to say, dear?" Cora's brow raised in amusement. "Or do you finally agree with me?"
"No word I can think of deserves to be wasted on you."
Cora only chuckled darkly, giving a vicious tug to the ends of the magic that she still controlled, forcing her daughter's limbs to spread. Regina's lips peeled back in a silent hiss of pain, her back arching beneath the bonds. Her mother shook her head as if in disgust. She leered over the fallen Queen, reaching out to tangle gloved fingers into Regina's hair and tugged, forcing her to look at her. "He's very much like you, you know," she said conversationally. "Your son. You'll have to thank him when you see him. So much of the preliminary work is out of the way, thanks to him."
The younger Queen instantly bristled, her eyes whirling in dark pools as a snarl split her face. For a tiny moment, the purple magic holding her captive flared violently before flickering dangerously pale. Regina strained against them until her veins were visible, the muscles in her neck corded under her skin. "Show him to me!" she demanded. "You said you'd show me!"
The magic she'd stolen was fading. Cora could feel in in her very blood. Quickly, she reached for the first of the silver bonds near Regina's arms. She had no idea, after all, how long the hold on her daughter's magic would last. Magic was foreign to her- unpredictable. Silver was far safer. She smiled coolly, unwilling to let the uncertainty show, and snapped the bond into place. It was nearly a stake of solid silver, piercing into Regina's wrist until the blood pooled in a harsh mockery of crucifixion. She screamed. Cora gave a dark laugh at the sound. "I did, didn't I?"
She finished with the rest of the bonds, puncturing through wrists and ankles alike, tightening the last just as the final traces of Regina's magic fizzled out of her control. Despite the pain lurching through her limbs, the younger Queen actually seemed relieved, giving a soft sigh as the smell of magic dissipated. At least it would no longer be perverted against her.
Cora regarded her like a spider with a fly; something to be consumed, and therefore beneath her. She gestured to another long table, opposite the one Regina lay upon. This one was covered by a length of red cloth, covering the shape of what seemed to be a small person. It wasn't moving.
Regina's eyes bulged. "Henry!" she screamed. The silver made contact with Regina's skin, eliciting another shocked gasp as it burned against her, holding her down.
"Oh, he can't answer you, dear," Cora laughed, reminding herself to congratulate Victor the next time she saw him. She had wondered at the decision to cover the boy when she'd first seen it, but shrugged it off as part of the good Doctor's flair for the dramatic. Now, though, she approved. It would be so much more exquisite to see the look on her daughter's face as she pulled that cloth off the boy...
Eyes wide with fury, Regina's limbs lurched against the silver bonds the same as they'd done against those of her own magic, caring not a whit as each surge forced the silver to tear further into damaged, smoking skin. "If you have so much as touched him..."
"Oh, I've done far worse, dear," Cora smirked, running a long fingernail down the tip of her daughter's nose. "What do you intend to do about it?"
Once again, Regina said nothing, the murderous look in her eyes only building further, tears once more threatening to spill over the dried tracks on her cheeks. But these nearly glinted with her rage. Her gaze snapped back to the bundled form of Henry as it gave a weak cry, and she echoed it with another thrash against the silver.
Noticing, her mother gave an almost cooing noise of sympathy beside her. "I know, my love," she sighed, patting Regina's cheek lightly."You really haven't changed at all. This..." her hand moved down, resting over Regina's breastbone. Over her heart. "This has always been your weakness. Your love thrums through your veins like a sickness; your blood stinks of it. It always has. But I can help you, dear. I'll drain it from you, just as I have before. You'll thank me for it."
Staring in horror at the hand and then at Cora's face, Regina could only shake her head. "'Thank you?!'" she echoed. "You've destroyed my entire life, Mother! Every time I get the chance to be happy! ...What the hell do you want from me?!"
"Oh, Regina," the older vampire lightly clucked, smiling beatifically. "The same thing I've always wanted from you, dear."
Seething, Regina just blinked at her, and Cora leered lower, bringing her face only inches away from Regina's own. The harsh light of the room glinting over her fangs. "Perfection."
Regina said nothing at this revelation, her mouth gone dry. She could only barely swallow, a soft, whimpering choking noise slipping from low in her throat. Her eyes locked onto the red cloth. "Henry..." She shot a death glare at her mother. "...Show me what the hell you've done to my son."
"Language, Regina," Cora clucked, again running a teasing hand lightly down her daughter's cheek in a cruel semblance of affection. "But very well." She stepped forward, grabbing a handful of cloth. With all the grandeur of a stage magician, she whipped the sheet back with a flourish. Her laughter dulled to a startled shout of rage.
Trussed up like an animal to slaughter, a wad of leather stuffed in his mouth, was Victor Frankenstein. Henry was nowhere in sight.
Regina was laughing. Staring over her mother's shoulder at the bound man in the lab coat, she couldn't help but laugh, her relief practically palpable as it washed over the room.
Furious, Cora was ripping the sodden leather out of the doctor's mouth, the unfortunate man just barely regaining consciousness before Cora's hand was around his neck. "Where is he?!"
Coughing and sputtering, Victor had no answer. Fingers clawed in the front of his coat, Cora lifted the man without effort, pulling the dazed doctor directly in front of her face and demanding so vehemently that spittle flew from the tips of bared fangs. "What happened?!"
Victor wheezed, his mouth barely able to process the function of words through the haze of head trauma. "He..." he gasped, and could only point as his airflow constricted.
Seeing what was indicated, Regina continued to laugh, her head falling back against the dark wood of the table, limbs finally relaxing against her bonds. She gave a quiet, satisfied sigh.
Snarling, Cora practically threw the man to the ground, sweeping over him as she bent down to the table beneath him. Her fingers latched on to one of the silver chains, her anger so great that she barely even hissed when the metal bit through her skin. A single link had been partially sawed, then snapped in half. Screaming her frustration, Cora flung the chain away and watched it collide with one of dozens of small needles, all with their points worn down to the nub.
"My clever boy..." For the first time since she'd been trapped by her own magic, Regina smiled, a joyous, relieved laugh echoing around the room. Her eyes slid up to her mother's face. "You're going to lose," she murmured almost happily.
Rushing back to her daughter's side, Cora's hand shot out to circle around Regina's neck, stilling her laughter. Regina stared back, calm and collected and completely unswayed. Sneering down at her, Cora leaned forward, looking as though she was preparing to end her daughter's existence once and for all. A croaking cough from Victor stayed her hand, dark eyes snapping back to the doctor as he indicated his hands, still bound together.
Stepping back, Cora turned away from her daughter, giving herself a moment. Freeing the doctor with a quick slash of her hands, she turned the power of her ire on him, staring intently as he rubbed sore wrists, straightening the tails of his lab coat until Cora finally snapped at him to get to work.
He did, moving as quickly as sore limbs would allow. Cora closed her eyes, grinning when a pained shout from her daughter signified the first of Victor's needles plunging into her skin. She waved off her irritation. The boy may have escaped, but her true prize was here, neatly packaged and ready. She smirked at her daughter as she finally answered. "No dear. I don't believe I am."
...
Elsewhere
Emma's head was aching. She was vaguely aware of someone calling her name. The floor was cold beneath her. She became aware of these things slowly, her mind taking several long moments to process through the screaming pain of her headache.
Someone's tongue was on her skin. This was more cause of concern, as the wet, sandpapery feeling dragging along her hairline, just above her left ear. Tasting her blood. Fighting down the bile rising in her throat, both from the head injury as well as the act being performed on her, she lay still, her eyelids just barely cracking open enough to get a good look at the vampire bent over her.
Pokes and prods were being made with cautious hands and fingers across the span of her body, as if testing its softness, before pulling away with noises of approval. The tips of fangs gave the barest graze over flushed skin. With all the suddenness of a bug zapper, the teeth jerked back, their owner propelled back by a golden wave of force. There was a hiss of pain, and then a resigned grunt.
Just enough time for Emma's fingers to twitch, the smallest of them brushing against something metal. Something familiar. A hand clasped around the handle of the pistol. Green eyes shot open, a resounding, ominous click ricocheted through the room, giving the vampire a chance to look up before the gun fired.
A new puddle joined the rest of the viscera on the floor, spreading around blonde hair streaked with blood. Some of it her own.
Emma gave a soft grunt, and opened her eyes again. It was incredibly dark- barely enough light to see. Even she had very little idea how she'd been able to make the shot. She winced, lips peeling back in a silent hiss of pain as her protesting body spiraled into another level of swimming agony. She took a deep, steadying breath; in through her nose, out through her mouth.
Her name was still being called. She heard it gradually, at the very periphery of her perceptions, as if far away or at the other end of a tunnel. Emma shrugged off the feeling- her head was aching a little too much to pay much attention. Until the voice became suddenly recognizable, and her head turned to find its source.
It was Regina.
She was screaming.
...
Outside
Ruby gave an exasperated sigh, taking a moment to run her hands through her hair and stretch out her muscles. Her lower lip slipped between her teeth, biting on it for a moment before releasing it with another ragged sigh. Beside her, Anita was still out cold, body slumped against a tree while she and Granny finished with their knots. The stretcher had been a last-minute consideration, cobbled together from fallen limbs and twines of ivy. As their conveyance was nearing completion, Ruby glanced from it over to her mother, and then to her grandmother. "...Do you really think this is going to work?" It was, after all, a ridiculous plan.
Granny harrumphed in reply, testing the tension of a knot before tightening the vine a little further with her teeth. She shot her granddaughter a knowing, harried glance. "No," she admitted, "but I think we'd have kicked ourselves if we hadn't tried."
Ruby continued to worry her lower lip, shifting her gaze to rest over her mother. The drug they'd given her was supposedly good for nearly a full day, even on the strongest of werewolves, but Ruby had another dose to give her just in case. So far, it didn't look like she'd need it.
Offering a small though uncertain smile, Granny reverted back into a standard tactic for Alphas: barking orders. "Help me get her tied down. We're nearly ready."
Shuffling into action, Ruby hurried to comply, lifting the unconscious form of her mother as if she weighed nothing and placed her down on the stretcher.
...
Inside
As quickly as possible while still clinging to caution, Emma crept along the corridors of the Hive. Now that her eyes had adjusted and she'd had time to analyze the layout, she was realizing that it was an immense spiral, with the throne room at its center and the main staircase curling around it. The secondary hall sloped downwards with branches sweeping out to the sides, and again curling in. The entire design was dizzying, reminding her of an elaborate hedge maze. She chose to head down.
Her presence did not go unnoticed, but the Hunter could not be bothered with the vampires that managed to find her in ones or twos. Her weapons had suffered no ill effects from her time unconscious, and with each new threat another shot rang out through the halls, spraying the walls with dark, sticky blood.
She didn't worry overly much about the noise from her guns. They were beginning to get overpowered by other, far more unsettling sounds.
The screams had not dissipated. If anything, they'd grown louder and higher in pitch, until it was almost impossible to discern them from the machinery that she was also beginning to detect. But no machine had ever been made that could so chill the blood as those high, agonized squeals. Like something was being butchered. Emma's gun quivered in her hand, and she actually had to pause to lean against one of the walls as bile rose in her throat. She forced it down, but could do nothing but grit her teeth as her skin broke out in a clammy sweat.
From down the hall, she heard a dragging, shuffling sound, coming at her fast. Pressing her back to the wall, she took up a defensive position, keeping both hands on the barrel of her gun, knowing she still had a shot or two left before it rang empty. The sound drew closer. Gritting her teeth, she aimed for chest-height, pulling the trigger as soon as the vamp came into view.
The shot clattered harmlessly against the wall, whizzing bare inches over the figure's head. Startled, he jumped, shuffling back against the wall with a small cry. His eyes blinked, stared. Blinked again. "...Emma?"
His voice was haggard and broken, but to Emma it was one of the best sounds in the entire world.
"Henry!" She threw down the empty gun, disgusted with it and with herself for having come only inches away from shooting her son in the head. She lurched forward from the wall, and then the small, bloodstained boy was running at Emma with all the power of a small freight train.
Most of his wounds were healed already or in the process of, only the largest of them still oozing with slow, sluggish blood. But he fought through the hisses of pain that exploded when he wrapped his arms tightly around his birth mother, bursting into tears and holding her like he would never, ever let go. "I knew you'd come for me," he gasped.
With tears of her own falling from her cheek, she pulled the boy into her arms, tucking his head under her chin and not giving a damn about how much crap he was covered in. "Oh, Henry," she murmured softly, holding him tight. "Of course we did." She smoothed back his hair, resting her cheek on his forehead and closing her eyes, just holding him for a long, long moment.
After what seemed like years, he pulled back just a little, blinking up at her with eyes full of hope and love. But also confusion. His gaze bounced around the hall before landing once again on her face, and she knew before his mouth opened what his question would be. "...Where's Mom?"
She had no answer to give him.
Another scream, high and shrill and haunting in the sheer amount of pain contained within, began to echo through the halls around them. She felt the urge to grab Henry's head, cover his ears and protect him from the sound. Inside the scream, she could still make out Regina's voice. Her stomach knotted, sour bile once more beginning to rise within her, but she forced herself to instead cling to a tiny shred of hope. Regina was still alive.
Head tilting as the screams echoed around him, Henry looked up at her with terror-stricken eyes. "...They're gonna kill her."
She could only swallow roughly, her words turning to ash in her mouth.
Her son jumped as another scream rent the air, and then he was frantically yanking on her arm, pulling back down the hall he'd just run down. "Come on, they're down this way!"
"Henry!"
"I know where they are!" he insisted, tears dripping down his nose. "I know what they're doing to her, Emma! They're gonna kill her! We've got to help her!"
"I know!" Her grasp tightened around the familiar weight of the nearest gun: the one Regina had enchanted what felt like years ago. Even though the magic had been stripped from her and the enchantment had worn off, Emma found it somehow comforting- a link to the Queen whose screams still rang in her ears. "I know, Henry. And I promise, I'm gonna come back for your mom, okay? But I promised I'd get you safe first, kid."
"But-!" he tried to protest, but a sudden sound had Emma's hand shooting out to shush him.
Down the corridor came the unmistakeable whoosh of vamps. Lots of vamps. They'd probably heard them arguing. "Shit," she whispered, and a small internal voice tsked at her for cursing in front of her son. "We've gotta go, kid," she murmured. Scooping the boy into her arms, she ran, ignoring both his protests and the voice in the back of her mind that screamed at her. She slid down the hall, between the doors of a small antechamber. Almost immediately, she wished she'd picked a different door. It was a torture chamber, though thankfully unoccupied.
Behind them, the hall was now crawling with vamps. Struggling with the heavy frame of the door, Emma slammed the lock in place just in time for what had to be two dozen vamps to throw themselves at the door, making the oak shudder on its hinges. Gritting her teeth, Emma pulled her son behind her, eyes darting around to analyze the room for any other exits.
Towards the bottom of the back wall was a small hole- a sluice gate, made for the drainage of water or other liquids she shuddered to think of. Wordlessly, she rushed him to it. It was too small for her to fit through, but just barely big enough for him. Yanking the gate away from the wall, she tossed him in the drain. "Henry," she hissed. "Go. Get out of here as fast as you can, and when you get out, run for the top of the hill."
"But what about Mom?!"
"Henry, I-"
"No!" With the stubborn solemnity of a child, Henry stared at her, refusing to budge. In that moment, he looked every inch Regina's son; the son of a Queen "...I Claimed you," he insisted. "So I can order you to save her. You have to."
Between them, the Claim burned. Emma felt it in her blood, saw it firing behind her eyes like the flashbulb of a camera. She hissed at the sensation and gave a ragged sigh, regarding the boy in front of her with a resigned glare. "...I'll get her," she promised, kissing his forehead. A warmth of light bloomed within her chest, spilling out around him. She smiled back, ruffling his hair as if they weren't in mortal danger. "I would have anyway, you know."
He smiled, nodding with approval. "I know."
Behind them, the door shuddered again, close to splintering. With grave urgency, she pushed him back towards the drain. "I love you," she told him, and turned away, reaching for the nearest gun just as the door began to shatter to pieces. The sound was enough to send Henry jumping, and he slipped down into the drain, making himself as small as possible. Emma fired at the doorway, shooting through the cracks.
"Go!" she screamed, and her gun fired again, splattering the entrance of the small tunnel with a spray of red. A few flecks of blood fell onto his face and Henry jerked back in surprise. His foot slipped on a small rock, sliding him down on slick flagstones a few more feet into the darkness. He could no longer see his birth mother, but the gunshots continued to fire in quick succession, one right after the other, and soon the drain was running with blood, building up behind him until it, too, propelled him forward, down the drain and far away from his mothers. In the distance, he could almost swear he could make out the glare of natural light.
...
Outside
Bent over low as she began to cinch tight the first of many knots, Granny's eyebrow quirked in question, the smell of dried blood and something... other flitting into her nose. She sniffed derisively. "What is that?" she hissed, snuffing to get the scent out.
Nose crinkling as she caught whiff, Ruby's head turned in question, seeking out its source. Her eyes peered down to the Hive, focusing on a small section of wall near the base of a bit of grate- little more than a drain.
A small figure was creeping along it, slinking slowly until it finally emerged into the light. Weakened, it stumbled, wrenching itself forward away from the hold of the Hive until it fell, tumbling, down the drainage ditch.
Granny adjusted her glasses as she struggled to make sense of what she was seeing. Her eyes suddenly widened in recognition. "Oh my god," she hissed. "It's Henry!"
Ruby was already running, fur sprouting over her body as she raced down the hill towards the small boy.
...
Inside
Alone, Emma faced the onslaught of vamps with guns blazing, firing shot after shot at the oncoming horde. The broken door kept them from all rushing in at once, only one or two managing to squeeze through at a time. But she knew that wouldn't last. Nor, sadly, would her ammunition. She was down to her last clip.
As the remains of the door crumbled and the small chamber began to fill with vampires, she swallowed, blinking back the realization that there were too many. The magazine of her gun clicked empty. Her gun hand fell to her side. Seeing her weaponless, the vampires charged, whooshing upon her with every intent, she knew, to rend her limb from limb.
She closed her eyes. The Claim still burned behind them, tugging at her like a nagging itch. "...I'm sorry, Henry," she murmured, knowing he was long gone. If nothing else, at least she'd gotten him to safety, and gotten to see him one last time. Regina didn't have that luxury. Regina would never see him again.
She would never see Regina again.
That thought burned in her mind like a brand, sizzling through every other thought. As the first of the vampires reached her, their cold fingers clenching over her arms, she allowed that thought to take root, calling to mind an image of her Queen's face. Smiling at her. She smiled at the memory. At least, if this had to be her last thought, it was a good one.
She felt clammy hands circle her neck, brushing across her hair. Preparing to snap her neck. Emma relaxed her body into it.
"...Regina."
Even despite the snarls and howls of victory that fell from the vampire's hungry mouths, her whisper seemed to echo around the room, bouncing back and forth until it was nearly deafening. Until it rang, transformed, back into her ears.
"...Emma."
A brilliant wave of light washed over her, spraying the entire hall with gold. It felt divine- like the first light of a spring sun after a long, bitter winter. If this was death... well, it really wasn't so bad. It was warm and wonderful and incredibly familiar, bringing back to her the memory of the fight outside Stroybrooke, when Regina and Maleficent had joined their energies to harness the sun even in the dead of night. Even with the vamps crawling around her, Emma felt serene, utterly at peace- like she had when Henry had drank from her. Warm and safe and loved- physically wrapped inside a bubble of joy.
She inhaled, feeling utterly content. She exhaled. Her eyes opened.
Emma found herself in the same chamber, but alone. And she was, to her utter surprise, not dead. She was, however, wet. Everything, from the tips of her hair to the heels of her boots, was completely and utterly drenched with red gore, more of which dripped from the ceiling and coated every surface of the room. But the vamps- all of the vamps- were gone.
Wholly confused, she looked herself over, running a hand over her arms, her legs. Everything seemed to be working. The gun was still heavy in her hand. Confused, she raised it and fired a shot at the empty wall. Though she had put no clip into the chamber, it fired. Regina's enchantment was back.
Confused as all hell, Emma nevertheless caressed the gun in her hand fondly with sticky fingers, an awed expression on her face.
She wasn't dead.
Another bone-chilling scream pierced through the silence of her awe, making her shoulders tense. The sound physically hurt, her muscles fairly screaming themselves. She took it as a good sign.
Haltingly, almost as if she'd forgotten how, she took a step. And then another, until she was back into the hallway. Slowly at first, she picked up her pace until she was running, tearing down the direction her son had come from. She'd figure everything else out later. For now, the Claim still weighed heavy in her mind, and the screams- quieter now, she was chilled to notice- lead her the rest of the way.
...
Elsewhere
Weak and only half-conscious, Regina's eyes opened, a voice hoarse from screaming giving out a tired little sigh. The barest hint of a smile crept around the edge of her lips. "She's coming," she murmured, more to herself than anything else.
Off to the side, doctor Frankenstein fiddled with a switch before throwing it. From Regina's cringe of dread, this had obviously been done before. A shock of white light crackled through the needles sticking out of her, collecting in their tips before penetrating into her body. The Queen writhed on the table, back arching to involuntarily yank against the silver stakes that held her down. Another keening scream rent from pale, chapped lips, going on for what seemed like years.
As the latest surge of electricity finally died down, Cora barely even looked at her, her eyes instead glued to the glass jars rapidly filling with blood. "What are you muttering about now, dear? Any interesting last words?"
With a soundless chuckle, Regina only shook her head. She was whimpering now- long since out of tears, but the dry, heaving sobs that wracked through her all left her lips in the same shape. "Emma..."
Cora sighed in irritation, turning back to the doctor and his equipment. "Well?" she demanded.
"Nearly done, your Majesty," he answered in clipped tones, sweeping back and forth between two panels of equipment and furiously writing things down upon a clipboard. "Another cycle or two should do it."
"Excellent," hissed the Queen. "Much as I enjoy hearing her scream, even I begin to grow tired after a while."
If the doctor was going to reply, he was interrupted. A sudden crash shuddered through the room, knocking a few baubles of his more precariously placed equipment to the floor.
Something strong and very, very angry had impacted the door to the chamber, hard enough even to rouse the Doctor from his intense monitoring of his machines. "What the hell is that?!" he asked, glancing over to Cora.
The door crashed again, beginning to split down the veins of the wood. Golden light seeped in through the cracks, spilling into the room from around the frame.
"...Your majesty?" Victor asked, looking nervously at Cora, her brow furrowed in a dark line across her face.
Plucking up a serrated-edged knife, the older Queen stormed up to her daughter, putting the blade to her throat without hesitation. "What. Is. That?" she hissed.
Even staked down as she was, even with so little energy remaining, Regina managed a laugh. "And y-you say... I'm pr-predictable," she wheezed. "You're so f-focused on me," she hissed, her voice rough and haggard, but not yet fully broken. "On m-my son, that you've completely ...neglected what else I mi-might have brought to your pre-precious Hive." She spat the last word out with as much venom as she could muster.
Cora's eyes widened, her jaw gone slack.
The door failed in a final massive crunch, caving inward. Through the splinters of wood, gun-raised, grim-faced and covered in gore, stepped Emma Swan.