A/N: Well, this one certainly turned into an interesting one, in my opinion. It was originally meant to be much, much shorter than it turned out to be, but both the first and last scenes bloomed to give this chapter a healthy amount of meat to it. I won't say much else here and let you get right down to it. See you at the end note!

(Edited and updated as of 11/8/2015)

A Gambit in Trust

Cora I

Cora stood an inch beyond the property line, eyes closed and senses attuned to the world around her. Dusk settled on the sleepy little town, and only the buzzing, chirping, and shuffling of the nocturnal creatures waking broke the calm that came with it. Most of the residents had scampered on toward their little community gathering, leaving the nearby group of homesteads abandoned.

She opened her eyes and observed her daughter's home with physical sight. It was the largest she had seen since arriving in this new land, but it paled in comparison to the mighty castle Regina had previously called home. Still, she could recognize how well maintained the area was, and Regina's apple tree standing proud on display spoke volumes to her daughter's attachment to the manse.

Yet Cora could not sense the presence of a ward, curse, or an active magic of any kind.

She hesitated for a long moment before stepping over the unseen line marking Regina's domain, bracing herself for a trap to be sprung. As nothing lashed out at her, Cora smiled and grew confident Regina had not discovered a magic more subtle than Cora could detect. Still, she crossed the property with slow, deliberate strides, alert for the possibility of more mundane defenses.

She made it to the porch unmolested, and a brief flick of her wrist granted her access to her daughter's home without a modicum of difficulty.

Cora debated whether this pointed to Regina's overconfidence, or if her daughter wanted Cora there. The complete lack of any level of reasonable defense may as well have been a welcoming party escorting Cora as an honored guest. Not one to ignore such an open invitation, Cora moved to explore her daughter's home.

A quick series of stairs led up to the main foyer. The room was warm and airy with little furnishing outside of several small tables lined with bundles of flowers and small trinkets of no obvious value. Light, wooden flooring and beige walls left the room bright despite the waning sunlight. Doorways opened on the opposite wall and to her left, while a stairway began on her right, taking a slow spiral into the upper level.

With the basic, uninspired artwork on the walls, the entire atmosphere struck Cora as nothing more than generic. Hardly befitting of a queen.

She moved further into the house, pleased when traces of her daughter's personality began to shine through. In an intimate sitting room, beige gave way to black and white done in the motif of a forest. Black furniture, leather and sturdy, surrounded a wide fireplace that was topped with a white marble horse, prancing.

Cora clicked her tongue at the display, sorry to see Regina's unbecoming fascination with the beasts had resurfaced.

Her tour lost its character once again as she went from room to room. It was not until ascended to the second level and located Regina's chambers that she found the human touch once again.

The room held the same colors as the house's foyer, but the overstuffed furniture and large windows letting in the twilight glow of late evening gave the area an aura of invitation. What drew her attention were two frames upon the small table beside Regina's bed.

Curious, she navigated around the furniture – passing by a metal grate with warm air coming out of it, of all things – and picked up the first. It proved to be a portrait of Henry. The artist had captured all of her husband's bumbling, dutiful loyalty in their strokes, creating a masterful rendition of the man in his older years.

With an amused shake of her head, she set down the portrait and picked up the second frame. Rather than another painting, she found a photograph the people of this realm seemed so fond of for their preference in artwork.

A young boy, no older than six or seven at most, sat in Regina's lap with a wide smile that was missing several teeth. His eyes were bright with mirth, glancing up at Regina, who bore such a bright and radiant smile as she hugged the boy close that it gave Cora pause. She could hardly believe she was looking at her daughter.

She did not know how long she stood staring at the photograph, but she only snapped out of her reverie at the sound of the mansion's front door slamming shut. Frowning, she placed down the photograph, face down.

The removal of one's heart came at several hefty prices. The risk of another's total control was one, should they thrust their will upon it, but she had taken measures to prevent such a situation years ago. The complete and utter inability to experience deep emotions was the more unavoidable one. Cora never regretted removing her own heart, often able to cope with the fallout in terms of the benefits it brought her, but at the moment she could not clarify the echoes of feelings long forgotten that passed through her.

For some reason, it left her unsettled and off balance.

When the click-clack of footsteps climbing up the stairs reached her, Cora pushed the discomfort away and focused on the task at hand. She sat at the edge of her daughter's bed, and adopted her most neutral expression.

She repressed the urge to scowl at hearing her daughter talking to herself. "…have a chance in hell. It's insane—" Regina cut off her own words as she stepped into the room, and Cora savored each and every expression that crossed her daughter's face.

Shock, fear, anger, panic, determination, and a touch of wistfulness all blazed through Regina's eyes in the moment before she locked down her expression to a neutral frown. "Hello Mother," she said, her words brusque.

Cora remained silent, enjoying the moments she had to study what her daughter had become. The coal-black pants and suit jacket inspired memories of Regina's preference for masculine riding clothing in her youth, but Cora could forgive her daughter's fashion indulgence for the simple poise with which the woman stood.

Back straight, feet squared at shoulder width, hands held loose and ready at her sides, and eyes that watched Cora without flinching.

At least on the surface, Cora could find no trace of the insecure, indecisive, and fearful girl that had pushed her through the mirror all those years ago. Cora had observed Regina for weeks at a distance and by way of scrying, but in her physical presence Cora now understood how some could look to her daughter and think "Queen."

She let herself smile. "Regina." She returned the greeting, moving to stand. Regina's right hand twitched in her direction, and Cora's grin broadened. Content to let her daughter engage the conversation, she looked out the window and watched as a bright and full moon began its ascending arc in the foreign sky

The stars were different here.

"What are—"

"I do enjoy the home you've built yourself here." Cora spoke softly, but her daughter still stopped short the moment Cora moved to speak. "I see some of your troubling habits shining through here and there, but…" She faced her daughter. "Overall it is a fantastic piece of magic. I am sure your father would be proud to see what his sacrifice wrought."

Regina blanched, staggered as if Cora's words had been a physical blow. Cora sighed in disappointment at the simple means of cracking her daughter's armor. She still had work to do, it seemed.

"What are you doing here, Mother?" Regina regained her composure after a pregnant pause, though her pallor did not improve. Cora adopted a surprised expression, peppering a hint of condescension into her voice.

"To help you of course." Cora grasped her hands in front of her in an imploring gesture. "You were so close to your happy ending, dear. Let me help you reclaim what you've lost."

"There's no going back." Regina spoke the words with absolute conviction, crossing her arms and backing away from the threshold. She retreated back toward the stairway and Cora was forced to follow.

"That may be true," Cora agreed. "But that does not mean there are no other options." Regina cast a curious look over her shoulder as they descended the stairs, her interest piqued. Cora offered her gentlest smile. "You need only tell me what it is you actually want, and we can make it yours."

"Henry," Regina said without hesitation, facing front once more. Her daughter led them to the sitting room with the horrible equine mantelpiece.

"The boy," Cora said, nodding.

"My son." Regina spoke with conviction and vehemence. The photograph on her daughter's bedside table flashed through her mind.

She pushed it away. "That you share with the other woman." Regina's expression morphed through several expressions before settling on a vague grimace.

"Not by choice," she said curtly. She gestured an open hand toward a set crystal decanters, glasses, and powder-filled jars displayed on a small table between a sofa and a bookshelf full to bursting. "Cider?"

"You know how I feel about vices, dear." Cora let the practiced note of maternal disapproval enter her voice. It did not stop Regina from pouring a glass of the honey-colored liquid or fidgeting with nearly every piece of crystal in the set as she did so.

"You want to be rid of Emma Swan." Cora ventured to guess with a touch of relief. "Have your son as solely yours."

"I…" Regina paused, took a sip of her drink and spoke once again. "It's complicated." Her daughter perched herself on the arm of the sofa, drink held loosely in on one thigh.

"I fail to see how." Cora took a step closer to her daughter. "She is an obstacle to your goal, and not even the most offending. Tell me how much it stings that your son lives not with you, but your greatest enemy. Does he enjoy Snow White's hospitality?"

Regina said nothing, but her knuckles paled to white as she gripped the glass and brought it back to her lips. Cora caught the subtle shake in the hand as well, though Regina tried to hide it.

"I want to help you, Regina." She repeated the statement and took another step closer. "But I need to understand why you have not already dispatched your foes yourself? None could stand against you."

Regina let out a harsh laugh and drew from her glass again. Cora frowned at the display. "So after I kill Snow and Charming, then what would I do?" She wore an ugly smile. "The people would riot and come after me, and Henry would hate me. I'd have to leave town without my son." She shook her head. "There would be nothing left for me."

"And if you could be blameless in the act? What could you accomplish then?"

"Impossible," Regina said without hesitation, but she cast her gaze down, considering. "Even for you." An unspoken question tinged the end of her statement.

"Would I tease you with such an idea if it were? Do not assume to understand my plans, dear." She spoke the rebuke gently, yet Regina still flinched away as Cora took another step forward, now within an arm's reach of her daughter.

"How?" Regina's question came out a whisper and the girl reached over to place her half-empty drink down, fingers tracing the glass' rim. Cora rested a hand on Regina's shoulder and the girl leaned into the touch. Cora allowed a smile, knowing she had won.

"Of all the people and objects your curse brought to this land, there is one that is far more powerful than any other."

Regina's eyes snapped up, wide, and her words came out with clear disbelief. "The Dark One's dagger? You know where it is?"

"The captain is securing our path to the dagger as we speak," Cora confirmed. She glanced toward the grandfather clock in the corner. Hook should have subdued the librarian by now.

"But you haven't discovered its location." Regina sank back into herself, pulling another of the crystal trinkets to fidget with.

"Soon enough." Cora spoke the words as the truth they were. "And once we have control of Rumplestiltskin, it would only take a few words. Snow White, Prince Charming, Emma Swan. They and anyone else you wish will lay dead with no blame to lie at your feet." She squeezed her daughter's shoulder. "And your son will be yours."

Regina closed her eyes for long moments, every fiber of her being tensing as she struggled in internal debate.

"Henry loves them…" Her words were little better than inaudible.

"Wha-?" Before the first syllable formed on Cora's tongue, Regina thrust her arm up and released a glimmering purple powder from her crystal jar.

Cora shield came up as instinct more than intentional thought, but Regina was too close and Cora had not been prepared for betrayal. She stumbled back, tripping over furniture as she scrambled away from her daughter, barely able to keep her feet beneath her. After a heartbeat, the magic holding her shield in place flickered and threatened to crumble, and Cora knew what Regina had done.

"Fairy dust!?" Incredulous, Cora stood to her full height and faced her daughter. That she could move at all told her she had avoided the brunt of the assault, but she could feel her limbs stiffening and it became harder to focus on her gathered energies. "You used fairy dust." She repeated, unable to fully fathom it. "Shameful, Regina."

Regina stood, wide eyed and slack jawed as if she, too, could not believe what she had done. Her chest heaved in adrenaline-fueled breaths, and she held her arm out, magic brimming beneath the surface, but the threat she intended lost its punch with how much the limb shook.

Cora held little doubt that given a fair exchange, she would crush her daughter.

Her shield failed in a ripple of fading light, but Regina did not pounce on the opportunity to strike. Still weak. Cora did not know a word that could describe her disappointment.

"You will see the light, Regina. And I may even be forgiving enough to offer you another chance." She curled her lip in a sneer. "Enjoy dancing to the whims of Henry's mother in the meantime." Cora drew up her frustration and rage in the last bit of her focus to force out a teleportation spell.

As the violet smoke rose to surround her, she spied Regina crumpling in on herself, arms hugging her middle as had been her habit as a frightened little girl.

She rematerialized in the sparse shelter she had constructed deep within Storybrooke's woods –little more than a dome of tangled branches and roots with furniture to match – and the world spun around her. A quick assessment of her current state found the entire right half of her upper body and face without feeling. She reached up with her good hand and found the numb half of her expression locked in a scowling snarl. The juxtaposition of being able to move one eye but not the other left her off-balance.

"Whoa, are you alright lady?" A strange voice asked from behind her. Cora spun and lashed out at the intruder. Without conscious thought, her left arm sank into the man's chest halfway to the elbow. Handicapped by fairy dust or no, she had practiced this spell enough so that its use became instinctual. His heartbeat thundered in her grasp.

The man stood of a height with her. Bearded, chubby, in salt-stained clothing, and smelling of fish and the sea, the only clean thing she could find about him was an oversized red knitted cap that fell off his head as he tried to recoil from her.

"Who. Are. You?" Her voice came out clear, containing every ounce of anger she felt. The man went pale and sweat beaded down his clammy skin.

"I-I-I…." The man stuttered and Cora pulsed a bit of pressure on his heart. He squeaked in fear and his mouth flapped without a sound escaping. Dismissing him as less than useless, Cora applied more and more pressure, savoring his expression as he approached death.

A great forced bowled into her unfeeling shoulder, sending her sprawling. Brief shock turned to embarrassment and then morphed into rage. She regained her feet to find Hook standing between her and the intruder, hand held out in placation and hook offering the red hat to the man he had saved.

"Explain," she demanded, voice tight with promise of death.

"This is Mister Smee," he said, dropping his hand. "A loyal companion from days gone by. He's offered to aid in our endeavor and I've guaranteed him safe passage." The man named Smee broke into a coughing fit. Hook cast a troubled look over his shoulder.

"And what use could he possibly be?"

"People tend to… underestimate me." Smee accepted his hat from Hook, handling it with gentle fingers before putting it back in its place. "It's come in handy on many occasions." Smee raised hand to rest over his heart, waited a tick, and sighed in great relief. Cora found that she could believe at least one of his claims.

"And by wit or happenstance, Mister Smee has discovered the Dark One's plans."

"He's found a way to cross the town line without losing his memories." Smee hurried to explain.

"And travel to a place called… New York was it?" Smee nodded at Hook's questioning glance and the pirate seemed self-satisfied as he hooked the fingers of his good hand into his belt and carried a predatory grin.

"And the librarian?" Cora remained impassive as Hook's expression turned to annoyance.

"Guarded," he said with a shrug. "By the werewolf with the preference for those wonderful leather pants." His grin turned lecherous for a moment, betraying his weakness to his baser needs. "But it does not matter. Outside of this town, the Dark One will be powerless."

"She is leverage, Captain. She guarantees us a position of strength in the coming battle."

"Without his magic, there will be no battle." A shadow crossed his features as he thumbed the end of his hook. "It will be a slaughter."

"You are a fool if you believe he has not prepared for the mere possibility that he could be attacked when he is the most vulnerable. Rumplestiltskin is many things. A survivor most of all."

The pirate's face pinched in irritation. "And you would have us waste this opportunity?" He held his arms wide. "To wait for your grand scheme to come to pass?" He laughed, setting Cora's blood to boil. He gestured to her frozen features. "When it appears even the Evil Queen can get the best of you."

Cora reveled in the thought of Killian Jones' heart crumpling to dust between her bare fingers, but the effects of the dust left her impotent. For all his foolish bluster, Hook was a dangerous adversary. Without access to most of her magic, she dared not strike directly.

She cursed her daughter's stupidity.

"Regina will see the light in due time. I simply underestimated how much influence her son has over her." She could not fathom a child's wishes affecting her will, and wondered exactly how much of her husband's weakness Regina inherited. "Perhaps if you cannot handle a single werewolf, you should gather the boy?"

"Kidnap a kid?" Smee spoke up, eyes wide and hand still held over his heart as if it could stop her. "Captain…?" Hook looked as if he had smelled something obscene.

Cora laughed, disbelieving. "Is this where you draw your moral line, Captain?"

"I do not enjoy the sight of desperation on a woman." He explained, looking her up and down. "It's unbecoming. Even on you." Cora let out a harsh breath through her nose, the fingers on her frozen hand twitching. Hook noticed and stepped back, hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

"And I've always found displays of defiance tend to create deathly ramifications." She stepped toward the pirate and his newfound sidekick, flexing the fingers of her free hand into a fist and energy gathered there at a painful, tepid pace. "Especially when it is so poorly timed."

Hook's eyebrows shot up in amusement even as she stalked forward. "It seems a winning gambit to me." He drew his sword, lightning quick, and grinned when Cora stopped in her tracks. "Your fear betrays you."

"As does yours." Cora snapped the words out, quick and harsh. "So desperate to chase after the Dark One when he will be nothing more than crippled, weak Rumplestiltskin. Many would call you a coward."

"But none would call me a fool." He shrugged, unperturbed.

She switched tactics. "Then I have to wonder, Captain, if you've considered what comes next. For over a century you have focused on nothing but ending Rumplestiltskin's life. It's kept you driven, given your life meaning, and fueled your depressing obsession with a woman long dead." Hook bared his teeth at her words, stepping closer. His sword was less than its own length from her chest.

"Her name was Milah."

"And there will be nothing left of her in this world or any other once Rumplestiltskin is dead. Just one man left with nothing but ancient memories and a lonely, bitter existence." The pirate's sword arm shook as she spoke, inching down.

"Still your poisoned tongue, witch." He spoke the words through clenched teeth. "Or I will cut it out of you."

"I only speak the truth," she said with an asymmetrical smile. "Without the chase, you will be less than nothing."

Hook let loose a snarl of anger and reared back his sword to strike. She let loose the pitiful amount of energy she had managed to gather and it struck him just under the jaw with a flash of violet light, sending him tumbling through the air.

"Captain!" His underling cried out in fear, rushing over to where the pirate landed in a heap of leather and idiocy.

Hook pushed the man away from him and scrambled to his feet, unharmed. Cora smothered her frustration so it did not show. Instead she raised a challenging brow at the pirate, hand held out as if she could strike again.

This time, the pirate fell for her front. "Come, Mister Smee." He sneered at her, ugly and angry. A flash of the man within. "I trust you can navigate to this city you spoke of?" Without taking his eyes off of her, Hook sidestepped to the doorway, his first mate scrambling ahead of him.

"Aye, Captain!" He wasted no time in racing out of the shelter. Hook followed moments later without a parting jab. Cora counted that as a victory and let her arm drop.

Irritation and frustration dominated her thoughts, and it took many long minutes before she could force herself to clear her head and refocus on her true objective. The field of play had shifted, and she was unsettled at how she had not foreseen the extent of defiance her daughter was capable of in the absence of her son and enemy-turned-ally.

She sat heavily on the flat weave of roots that served as a bed, but took little comfort in the illusion of softness her spellwork created. In an ironic twist, the only person to act as she predicted was Rumplestiltskin, which left far fewer options before her than she would have enjoyed.

She estimated she had at least an hour's time before the effects of the dust faded, and she was determined to regain her advantage.

Cora closed her eyes and schemed.

Standing at the edge of Rumplestiltskin's property line with a sickening sense of déjà vu, Cora found the fortress of supernatural defenses she expected to encounter in her daughter's home. She smiled at having an immediate target for her frustration and threw subtlety to the wind.

Her course necessitated her to be both swift and brutal.

Her magic heeded her call with the barest of efforts in a sensation so euphoric following her binding in fairy dust that it almost broke Cora's concentration.

She adjusted the length of rope wrapped over her shoulder and outstretched her arms to her sides as far as they would go. She brought them together in a clap that brought down her wrath in a thunderous boom as twin waves of pure energy of the darkest purple broke against the Dark One's wards like waves on sand.

She maintained the effort, reveling in the pure power coursing through her, and the dome of magic surrounding Rumple's house grew visible as the crimson energy struggled to match Cora's efforts.

With Rumplestiltskin cut off from the ability to reinforce the defense, it took thirty seconds for Cora's magic to win out. By that point the clashing energies had brightened a hundred foot area as if it had been day, and Cora knew these peoples' mundane authorities would have been summoned.

But she feared not Prince Charming, and the town's only other official waited for her inside.

Cora strode up the cobblestone walkway and thrust her arms out once more. The Dark One's door and part of his front wall ripped free of the house and were reduced to splinters. Beyond, Cora spied her target standing in nothing more than a nightgown, slack jawed and shielded behind a wolf several times the size it had any right to be.

The beast stood hunched and ready to strike in spite of several large pieces of debris sticking out of its hide. It reared back and howled long and deep, and the sound rolled around Cora, echoing far into the night. She did not know if it was meant as a warning or challenge, but cared little as she did not break her stride.

The wolf bounded at her through the gaping maw of Rumple's front wall, its jaws wide and dripping with cursed saliva. Cora snapped out a ball of brute force that caught the beast on the jaw, sending it spiraling off to the right. She infused her will into her coiled rope and it rose to her command, lashing out at the wolf with the sinuous grace of a python after prey.

Vicious teeth snapped at the rope, but it knew neither caution nor fear and raced to tangle around the beast's limbs.

The snap-click of metal against metal was her only warning of danger and Cora drew up a shield before she could turn her head. The translucent purple barrier shined with dozens of blazing white lights of impact that forced Cora to backpedal to keep her balance. The snap-click sounded again, and the process repeated itself again and again for seven cycles. Each strike vibrated up Cora's arms, wrenching her shoulders and sending her shuffling backwards until she stood on the road, but her aegis held firm.

Through it she saw Rumple's lover wearing an expression of mixed frustration, anger, and terror as she moved to reload the strange weapon. The sight of it caused the predator within Cora to roar with approval and she twisted her left arm, energy surging forward, and Belle's firearm was wrenched from her grasp and thrown dozens of yards down the street.

Cora offered no respite, reaching metaphysical fingers out to wrap around the woman's neck and raise her ten feet off the ground in an unrelenting chokehold. Belle coughed and spluttered and twisted her limbs in a desperate effort to escape, but Cora paid it no mind as she strode back over the yard toward the werewolf.

The beast had almost won its fight against her sentient rope, its threads scattered about in a display of animal savagery, but the werewolf's hind legs remained bound. It fought all the harder to rip free at the sight of her holding the struggling Belle.

Cora spotted a long coil of rope – for some reason colored green – bound on a wheel just off the side of Rumple's bare front garden. The material resisted her control more than the hempen rope, but soon danced along to her will. The werewolf attempted to use its free limbs to avoid the new binding, but simply could not move fast enough.

The new rope spiraled along the wolf's entire torso and each of its limbs, drawing them into its body. It howled in pointless rage as it lay on its side.

"You know, Belle," Cora said, considering her options. "I had planned just to incapacitate your friend and whisk you away. But you did not make this easy after what has already been such a frustrating day."

Belle gurgled in response, face turning blue. Cora huffed an amused breath and lightened the pressure on the woman's neck just enough so she would not pass out.

She continued, "So I believe a bit of fun is in order." She pulled free her necklace – made of pure silver – and focused a large portion of her remaining energy into the jewelry until it dissolved into a floating ball of silver energy. The werewolf eyed her actions, growling in defiance, and Belle struggled all the harder in her grasp.

With a gentle exhale, Cora sent the metallic magic toward the werewolf's bindings, where it infused itself onto the cord, bonding its magical energies into it.

The effect was immediate and intense as the werewolf roared in defiance of the pain, tendrils of smoke rising from where magical rope met flesh. Cora savored the sound as it broke down into whines and whimpers when the agony did not let up. It writhed along the ground, a frantic attempt to throw off its attacker, but it only succeeded in exposing more skin and fur to direct contact with the deadly material. Cora could feel Belle's throat undulate as she tried to shout around Cora's metaphysical grasp.

"Which do you think will kill her first, dear? The heat igniting her fur to flame, or her heart giving in to the pain?" She asked her prisoner. Belle did not turn her gaze to Cora, her attention focused entirely on the struggling werewolf with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her legs kicked the air while her hands clawed at her throat in a pointless attempt to free herself.

With a shrug, Cora tightened her hold on Belle's throat to the point where the brunette fell unconscious within ten seconds. "My guess is heart failure."

She heard the telltale rumble of the realm's motorized vehicles approaching, and risked no more time in the open. With a twist of her wrist, she swept the knocked out Belle away in a cloud of purple smoke. Just before teleporting herself, Cora caught sight of the werewolf's eyes – startlingly aware despite its pain – promising death and retribution in their glowing golden depths.

Unsettled by the gaze, Cora left the werewolf to its excruciating demise and retreated to her shelter in a whirl of magic. Belle had landed in a crumpled heap, skin pale and clammy with the exception of her neck. A harsh, dark bruise formed from the bottom of her chin and in a solid block of color all the way to the woman's collarbone.

Cora entertained the notion that she may have overdone it.

A concentrated burst of magic later and Belle hung limp against the wall of her shelter, the roots binding over the entirety of her arms and legs. Satisfied with her captive's immobility, Cora took the opportunity to rest, sitting heavily on her makeshift bed.

This attack had taken a much heavier toll on her than she had anticipated. Exhaustion the likes of which she had not felt in years urged her to lie back and close her eyes, and she believed it could only be attributed as a consequence of the fairy dust.

All the better that Belle did not wake for over an hour, allowing Cora to gather herself and refocus her remaining energies toward the coming battle of wills. The groaning grind of wood straining against wood alerted Cora to her prisoner's return to consciousness. Cora stood, finding Belle pulling at her bindings with all the might her petite body could muster, but the roots held fast.

The woman who held Rumplestiltskin's heart stilled her efforts when Cora moved into her field of vision. A stare of pure hatred greeted Cora, and she smiled to see it.

"Monster." Belle's voice came out raggedy and scratched, but it did not take away from the vehemence with which the woman spoke.

"Not the worst this town has seen, I'm sure." Cora said with amusement, stepping up to her prisoner and taking her chin between a thumb and forefinger. She forced the girl's head to side to side and earned a pained grunt as Belle tried and failed to resist. "Such a pretty face. It is no wonder the Dark One chose you for his enjoyment." Belle's glare could have melted steel.

"Yet I wonder why he left you with such meager protections?" She trailed her fingers down, tracing through the bruise with enough force that Belle grit her teeth to avoid making a sound. Cora continued on until her hand rested over Belle's heart. She could feel the organ beating the rhythm of panic and savored the empowering sensation of being its cause.

"Perhaps he left one last trap protecting your heart?" She pressed forward until her fingertips sank past the woman's skin. Belle sucked in a sharp breath. Cora knew the sensation of such a magical intrusion was more unsettling than painful, but it could turn if given enough time. Cora leaned in to speak directly in Belle's ear, savoring each tiny gasp and grunt as her hand sank further and further toward her captive's heart.

"Or perhaps he does not care nearly as much as you've deluded yourself into believing," Cora declared as she grasped onto the woman's very essence without consequence. Cora held it in a loose squeeze for long moments, enjoying as Belle's breaths turned to shuddering from the undefinable pain. She brushed a hand through the woman's hair in a gesture of mock comfort.

"You have one chance to save yourself, dear," Cora whispered. "Tell me everything."

Belle's strained reply sealed her fate. "Fuck. You." She struggled out the words and Cora did not give the woman the opportunity to reflect on her idiocy.

She yanked, and the crystalline representation of Belle's heart pulled free. The captive's defiance bled out of her the moment it passed through her skin and she sagged until her full bodyweight was supported only by the twisted tangle of tree roots.

Cora studied her prize with the care of handling a priceless artifact. It shined bright and ruby red, but Cora laughed to see faint wisps of the darkest black circling inside as well. The woman was no stranger to darkness.

"Awaken," Cora said with idle authority. Belle jerked against her bindings, rearing back against to consciousness wide-eyed and confused until she spotted the heart in Cora's hand.

The pure and genuine terror that echoed in Belle's eyes nearly made up for the frustrations of the day. She released the woman from the roots and Belle barely kept her feet beneath her, now shaking.

"So I will ask again," Cora said, anticipation building. "Tell me everything you know of the Dark One's power in this world."

Belle obeyed without hesitation.

E/N: One out of three ain't bad, right Cora? Something I wanted to drive home at the end here was just how damn dangerous Cora really is. She was caught off guard twice in this chapter, derailing her plans completely, but she is still easily able to come back for round 2 and take a victory in a fantastic display of brutal efficiency.

Also, a point I hope I managed to make clear through the text, I'd like to say that Regina did seriously consider Cora's offer in this chapter. She has *never* defied Cora outside the one time with the mirror, and we saw in canon how easy it was for her to fall back into old habits. Defying her mother took a great deal out of Regina, and it's going to have lasting consequences - both good and bad.

Anyway, what did you all think of being in Cora's head? Sufficiently badass? Fall completely short? Let me know!

Until next time, read well my friends.