Chapter Thirty-Seven: Behind the Mask
Emma drummed her fingers against the counter. Her skin felt prickly, stretched taunt over the anxious energy bubbling inside her. She'd never had much patience in the past, and it was rapidly dwindling now.
Mary Margaret was making tea.
Emma pressed her hand flat against the counter. She was fairly certain that if she concentrated, she could make the water boil instantly, saving Mary Margaret the inconvenience of waiting. She pressed her lips into a thin line. Mary Margaret didn't need – and possibly didn't even want – her help with this basic task, but really…
How had she never noticed how absurdly long it took to boil water?
She turned away from Mary Margaret and glanced towards the sofa. Leroy and Walter were muttering to each other in low voices. The dwarves had taken to keeping Mary Margaret company, coming and going in shifts so that she was never alone. Mary Margaret had insisted that they were only wasting their time and she was perfectly fine on her own, but no one had listened to her protests.
And Emma knew that keeping Mary Margaret company was all a pretense, and they were really here in case Leah or George showed up.
She ran a hand through her blonde hair, biting back the desire to jump out of her own skin.
Jump out of her skin. She'd never fully appreciated that phrase before, but it was so appropriate.
Mary Margaret pulled a few mugs out of the cupboard and fiddled with the tea, oblivious to her daughter's thoughts.
"Does Regina have any family in Storybrooke?" Emma asked abruptly.
"Just Henry, as far as I know," Mary Margaret replied, giving Emma a surprised look. She hesitated, words poised at the tip of her tongue, then said in a rush, "And, well, me."
Emma blinked, and blurted out, "But she tried to kill you."
Mary Margaret gave her a strange look. "We've had this conversation before, in the Enchanted Forest" she said softly, pointedly. She sighed, shaking her head. "Regina is still – there's something there. Between us." The water boiled, the kettle hissing out steam, and she turned away from Emma to lift it off the burner. Her words were heavy, choked, as she said, "I don't know that we can trust her, but it doesn't mean that she isn't… that I don't remember what those first few years were like, with her as my stepmother. Before she changed."
Emma chewed her lip. "I understand," she said, even as a part of her thought that she would never understand Mary Margaret. How did she continually insist on seeing the best in people? "It's just… weird." Mary Margaret cast a glance at her over one shoulder, waiting for Emma to elaborate on her feelings. But Emma wasn't even really sure what she'd say. She couldn't seem to think straight whenever Regina was the topic of conversation – but then, neither could Mary Margaret or Henry, so at least Emma wasn't alone in that.
Aloud, she said, "So there isn't anyone else in the town who would have known Cora? Regina doesn't have aunts and uncles or grandparents or anything like that?"
Mary Margaret handed Emma a cup of tea. "Not that I know of. She didn't have family at the wedding."
"The wedding?"
"To my father. We invited everyone from my father's kingdom – and I mean everyone. But Regina only invited her father."
Leroy and Walter came to join them in the small kitchen, claiming tea for themselves. Under his breath, Leroy grumbled, "She probably didn't have any friends."
"No," Mary Margaret murmured in a completely different tone of voice, "she probably didn't." She leaned against the counter, and lapsed into silence.
Emma didn't want to dwell on that bit of information. She knew what it was like to be completely alone, and she was not interested in feeling even more sympathy for Regina at the moment.
"Regina cursed entire kingdoms of people," Emma said firmly. "Surely there has to be someone in this town who knew Cora." She tapped her nails against the tea cup. "We need to find out more about her. We don't know anything at all, and between her knowledge of Regina and her possession of he book, she has a clear advantage."
"I can ask around," Leroy volunteered. "Shouldn't be that hard to find someone who knew the Evil Queen's mother."
Emma and Mary Margaret exchanged a glance, and then Mary Margaret said gently, "I'd rather not advertise what we are up to. Perhaps we should ask someone more… subtle?"
"I can be subtle, sister!"
Mary Margaret raised a disbelieving eyebrow and hid a grin behind her mug. Emma snorted into her tea.
After a moment of thought, Mary Margaret said, "I'll ask Archie to help."
Before Emma could respond to that idea – and it was, she had to admit, a very good idea – the phone rang. Mary Margaret hurried to answer it, and Emma turned back to Leroy in time to see him scowl menacingly at his tea.
"You have other talents, Leroy," Emma said, struggling against the urge to laugh at his disgruntled expression.
Leroy looked like he wanted to argue, but Walter asked Emma curiously, "Do you think the Evil Queen has other family here? Besides her mother?"
"God help us if she does," Leroy muttered. "We've got our hands full with two villains – don't need more."
Emma shrugged. "I don't know," she answered Walter, ignoring Leroy's statement.
Regina had insisted that there was no one else here who knew Cora, no one else who could shed any light on why Cora might harbor such a vicious grudge against Mary Margaret and her mother. But Regina had been lying, and Emma was sorely tempted to march back into Regina's house and demand an answer.
And she'd do that if she had to – and to hell with however upset it made Regina. But if she could get the answers another way, a way that did not involve starting an argument with the other woman…
"Emma," Mary Margaret said, hanging up the phone with a frown, "that was Dr. Whale. He wants you to come to the hospital."
If Emma had received only a lukewarm greeting from the patrons at Granny's diner, she received a much warmer one from the staff and patients at the hospital. It had taken her nearly fifteen minutes to walk across the waiting room because various people kept coming over to welcome her back to Storybrooke and express their happiness at seeing her alive and well.
She didn't even recognize half the people, but they all seemed to know her.
"You made quite an impression on people. A good impression."
Emma glanced up as David walked over to her. "Hey," she greeted a bit awkwardly.
"Mary Margaret called," David said by way of explanation. "She asked me to join you here. In case you need help."
"With Dr. Whale?" Emma asked skeptically. "He's sleazy, but I think I can handle that." She rolled her eyes and added, "I've dated enough guys like him in the past. All bark, no bite."
"All the same, we don't actually know what he wants," David pointed out rationally. "And with the way things are in the town right now, it is better not to do things alone."
Emma nodded reluctantly. It wasn't that she didn't want David's company, she just didn't know what to say to him. The awkwardness of their interactions had not improved in the couple days since she had returned from the Enchanted Forest, and every conversation with him left her feeling even more unsure about their relationship. She didn't know what he wanted from her, but she could tell that whatever it was, he wasn't getting it. And he was disappointed.
"Sheriff Swan," the receptionist at the front desk greeted Emma with a warm smile. "It's so good to have you back."
"Thank you," Emma replied, having absolutely no idea who the woman was or when they could have possibly met. She supposed she had met most of the hospital staff back when David had still been in his coma, but so much had happened since then…
The receptionist continued cheerfully, "Dr. Whale is on the third floor right now. If you go on up," she gestured towards the elevators, "he'll meet you at that floor's reception area."
"Thank you," Emma said, and she and David started towards the elevators.
"And Sheriff Swan…?" Emma glanced back, and the receptionist continued, "I heard that you suggested we have a new round of elections, now that we are no longer cursed." She smiled a bit shyly. "You had my vote last time, and you still have it now."
And without another word, she turned her attention back to her computer.
Emma felt incredibly wrong-footed by the sentiment. She wanted to say something – perhaps express a promise to always do what was best for the town – but she couldn't think of the right words, and the receptionist wasn't paying attention to her anymore, anyway.
At the elevators, David said softly, "You broke the curse. You rescued us. And even before that, you stood up against Regina. Against Gold. People aren't going to forget that."
"We'll see," Emma answered shortly. There were still plenty of people in this town who didn't like her, and beyond that…
People wanted to go home, back to the Enchanted Forest. She wasn't sure how many of them agreed with Richard, but she'd seen enough discontent in the diner to know that it wasn't going to be easy to navigate town politics in the future.
But it was true that Richard hadn't been opposed to her, per se – just to the idea of forced democracy. If she could just make people see that life was better here… or, barring that, that it simply wasn't possible to return to the Enchanted Forest right now…
The elevator ride to the third floor was silent. If Mary Margaret had been there, Emma might have considered confiding in her, but she didn't know what to say to David.
She cast a sidelong look at him, wondering if he, too, sensed the awkwardness between them.
The doors slid opened, leading into the reception area. Dr. Whale was standing in the middle of the room, waiting for them. He looked up as Emma approached, his expression unreadable. Then his gaze slid to the side and landed on David, and his lips curled into a thin, unamused smile.
"You really didn't need to bring backup, Sheriff Swan," he said sarcastically. "Or are you concerned you can't handle one unarmed and helpless woman?"
"Huh?" Emma demanded.
"Belle French," Whale replied. He beckoned for Emma to follow, and led the way through a set of double doors into a long hallway with several private rooms on either side. "When she was found wandering around with no memory, she was brought here. She had some scrapes and bruises, but she is fine now…" he paused in front of a room, and glanced at Emma before adding, "except for not knowing who she is."
Emma looked through the window in the door. There was a woman lying in the bed. She had tubes in one arm and a monitor attached to the other, and the screen above her head beeped out the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Long brown hair fell over pale features, and the machines hooked up to her body only served to make her look even smaller and younger than she was.
"That's Belle?" Emma murmured. "If she's alright, why does she have that IV in her arm?"
Whale grimaced. "We've had to sedate her a number of times because she has repeatedly… gotten worked up. But we can't keep her here. We're not equipped for this sort of long term care – not when there isn't anything actually physically wrong with her."
Emma stared blankly at Whale, still not understanding why she was here. But more than that, she didn't understand what was actually wrong with Belle. "She doesn't remember who she is? I mean – who she was, under the curse."
"She wasn't anyone under the curse," David replied grimly. At Emma's bewildered look, he explained, "Regina kept her locked up in the basement of the hospital. The… uh… mental ward." The lines in his face grew deeper, harder, and he said, "I imagine she feels the same way I did when I woke up from my coma… before I remembered…" he paused, stumbling over the name, "Katherine."
Emma swallowed, wishing she knew the right words to say. Katherine's death was obviously still very painful, very raw, for David.
Another death to lay at Cora's feet, another death the other woman would never pay for unless Emma could figure out how to stop her.
"I don't understand," Emma said at last, turning back to Whale. "Why did you ask for me?"
Whale stared at her. "Well, who else would I ask for?" he demanded, nonplussed. "She can't stay here, but I have no logical place to send her. Her father's dead, her boyfriend is the Dark One, and she has no idea who she is. You're the sheriff, the…" he sneered slightly, contempt obvious in his words, "Savior. She's your problem."
"My… problem?"
"You are the only authority figure in town," Whale replied. He turned away from the door, facing Emma with a smirk, and added, "My other option is the mayor, but I thought sending a helpless victim to the woman who had kept her imprisoned for twenty-eight years might be a bad idea."
Emma narrowed her eyes. On the one hand, she was pleased to have Whale's implied support even if it came with condescension. But on the other… she didn't trust him. She didn't know what he wanted from her, but she was convinced that he wanted something. As far as she knew, he had no reason to feel any loyalty towards Mary Margaret and David, and, in fact, he didn't seem to like David much at all. But he had come to her instead of going to Leah and Stefan, or George, or anyone else. Why?
What did he want from her?
"Frankenstein."
Whale flinched at the name and quickly averted his gaze. His voice was hard, flat, when he replied, "Believe me, Sheriff Swan, whatever you think you know about me based on that name… you're wrong."
"I'm just surprised you are picking our side over Leah's," Emma said after a moment.
Whale rolled his eyes. "I'm not picking sides," he said dismissively. "The outcome of your petty feud means nothing to me." He gave David a brief once-over, and added, "Although I'd be grateful if you all managed to kill each other so that we wouldn't have to deal with your arrogance anymore."
David bristled, but Emma interceded quickly, "And yet you've come to us for help with Belle."
"You are the sheriff," Dr. Whale replied with a shrug. "We might have all been cursed when we elected you, but I will still accept that authority before I'll bow to your parents or Leah and their like. Now…" he gestured towards the door, "are you going to help with Belle or am I turning her out onto the streets?"
"I don't have family here?" Belle asked, sounding lost and a little scared. "How is that… how do I not… why don't I…?" She stumbled over the words, mixing them together, jumbling them.
"I'm sorry, but you don't," Emma murmured gently, coaxing the other woman into the wheelchair. "But you have friends."
Of course, all her friends were fairytale characters. Probably not something she would respond well to.
"But… but where is my family?" Belle demanded.
Emma exchanged a helpless glance with David. It wasn't like she could tell Belle the truth – I don't know about your mother but your father was recently murdered – Dr. Whale had warned them that it was best not to upset her. Still, they had to tell her something.
David knelt down in front of the wheelchair. "You don't have any siblings, and your parents are deceased," he said, reaching out to gently rest his fingers on Belle's arm. His tone was soft, soothing. "I know everything must be very strange right now, and confusing…"
"Do you? Do you know anything?" Belle demanded, hysteria creeping into her voice. She pushed away from him, batting at his hand. "I don't… I have nothing! I don't even know who I am! How could you know what that feels like?"
"Because I've been there," David answered honestly. Belle looked at him skeptically, clearly believing he was only offering these lies to try to make her feel better. David pushed on regardless, "I lost my memory once. I know what it feels like. But you do have friends here. And we will help."
Belle refused to look at either of them, and then she leaned forward and buried her head in her hands, tangling her fingers through her brown hair. But at least she hadn't dissolved into tears and hysterics. David continued his quiet, sympathetic coaxing, and Emma detached herself from the conversation and walked over to Dr. Whale.
"Are you sure she doesn't need anything?"
"Physically, she's fine," Dr. Whale replied. He gave Belle a critical look, watching as David murmured his low, reassuring words. "But if she starts showing any concerning symptoms, you can always bring her back."
Emma nodded.
There was a moment of silence, then Whale asked, "Is it true that you created a portal to get back here?"
Emma looked up, surprised. "Yes," she answered slowly. How quickly and how far had that story spread? Did everyone know what she had done? Did everyone know what she was capable of?
That was a disconcerting thought – she didn't even know what she was capable of.
"Can you repeat that?"
"Repeat what?"
"Create another portal," Whale explained impatiently. "You brought yourself here from the Enchanted Forest. And there's magic here. So can you open a portal to another realm from Storybrooke?"
"The Enchanted Forest is destroyed," Emma answered slowly.
"I'm not asking about the Enchanted Forest," Whale said, "and that doesn't answer my question."
Emma shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, scowling. "Is that why you called me?" she accused. "You're trading Belle for information?"
Whale gave her a blank stare, then anger flashed through his gaze. "I called you because Belle can't stay here, and you're the obvious person to figure out what to do with her," he said coolly. "I told you that."
"So you really expect me to believe that you are doing all of this out of the goodness of your heart?" Emma scoffed, gesturing towards Belle and David.
"All of what? Doctoring? Taking care of my patients?" Whale retorted. He folded his arms over his chest, his expression now unreadable. He spoke slowly, as though explaining to a small child, "I am a doctor, Sheriff. This is my job."
Emma paused, rethinking her assumptions. Whale under the curse had been a sleaze, albeit a relatively harmless one. She hadn't interacted with him much since the curse had been broken – though she did remember that he was part of the mob that had originally wanted to kill Regina. And neither David nor Mary Margaret trusted him – David had even gone as far as suggesting that Whale was a real threat who was intent on stirring up trouble in the town.
But he also seemed genuinely concerned for Belle's welfare.
And the hospital was still running. Presumably, it had been running since the curse had broken, with Whale and his staff continuing to take care of anyone who got sick or injured. In fact, the waiting room had been busy, and every single person there had clearly been operating under the assumption that Whale would treat them as soon as he got the chance.
He might be stirring up trouble in the town, but he was also helping people.
Whale cleared his throat, drawing Emma from her puzzled thoughts. "It is my job to help sick people," he said. "I have a certain skillset that others don't, and I won't withhold my talents from another person just because I don't particularly like them."
And without another word, he stalked away.
The Enchanted Forest, a long time ago…
"I don't want an argument. It does no one any good."
Blanche sounded weary, frustrated, and Cora almost laugh outright at her pathetic attempts to avoid a confrontation. She so clearly did not want Cora and Eva to argue, but if she thought she could actually stop it, she was deluding herself. There would never be anything but animosity between Cora and the princess from the northern kingdom, no matter how hard Blanche tried to broker peace.
"I am offering us a chance to start over," Eva snapped, her tone peremptory. "You should take it now, while you still have the chance."
The threat in her words was obvious, but Cora merely laughed. Eva had tried to apologize for that regrettable incident as she had called. As though the arrogant princess completely humiliating her was merely regrettable. But now that Cora had rebuffed her apology, Eva was falling back on her usual threats and insinuations, and Cora was not about to be cowed.
She was no longer a peasant. This time, she had the upper hand.
"Do you really think you can threaten me?" Cora asked, amused. "You have nothing that I need, Eva, but I can destroy you and your precious kingdom."
"Would you really ruin so many lives just to get your pretty revenge?" Eva demanded, sounding horrified.
But it was all an act. Cora would not believe, not for even a second, that Eva was concerned about the welfare of the inhabitants of her kingdom. She was as arrogant as all royalty, never seeing past her own desires.
Aloud, Cora said, "Don't pretend like you actually care about all your poor little peasants. You are just desperately using them as a last chance gamble to plead with me."
"I do care," Eva replied, pale skin flushing. There was a combination of frustration and desperation in her eyes, but then her gaze hardened and she said in a suddenly much colder tone, "Do you really think you have power? You can create all the gold you want, Cora, but you still won't ever be queen."
The words pricked at Cora, creeping past her defenses, lodging underneath her skin.
She could feel the cold stones beneath her knees, hear the smothered laughter of the courtiers gathered around as she was forced to apologize for Eva tripping her. Bile rose in her throat, choking her. Gold was power, but gold could be gained and lost. And Eva's words brought to the surface a thousand tiny doubts.
She looked at Blanche, at the other woman's crown. Was that truly the only way she could ever be safe? Did she need a crown in order to be finally rid of all these fears?
She heard Eva speaking, as though from a great distance, "I know why you dislike me, Cora – but what did Blanche ever do to you?"
Cora shook her head, cleared her thoughts.
"I take issue with her very existence," she replied, forcing a light laugh.
"I accepted you into the family when Francis and Gabriel had qualms. I treated you with respect, I treated you kindly…" The words spewed from Blanche, echoing with a ferocity that Cora had never heard from her before. All her pent-up resentment came bursting forth, her voice shaking as she forced out every furious word. "Cora, I treated you like a sister. And you paid me back by mocking me at ever turn."
Behind the rage, Cora heard the hurt.
And for a moment, she forgot about Eva entirely.
Taking a step closer to Blanche, she said softly, "You are one of them." Royalty. Born into wealth. No matter how kind and caring Blanche thought she was being, that simple truth would never change.
Cora had fought her way up in the world, but underneath everything she was still a miller's daughter – and how easy would it be for someone to knock her to back her knees?
Eva, Blanche, all the rest of them – they had no idea how tenuous life could be. How quickly everything could change. They had been born into their roles – they had nothing to fear.
"Do you think I don't see the way you look at me?" she pressed on, eyes narrowed. "The way your darling husband skirts around me, avoids me at every opportunity? Do you think I don't notice the disdain in your eyes? You are royalty, Blanche, and I will never be one of you."
"You are one of us," Blanched replied. She stopped abruptly, as though the words had gotten stuck in her throat. She shook her head, her gaze filled with a mixture of fury and pity. "We did not push you out," she said finally. "You did this to yourself."
Cora laughed, a dark, hollow sound.
"Keep telling yourself that, Blanche darling," she murmured, her tone mocking. "Anything to help you feel better about your own actions, right?"
Blanche opened her mouth to respond, but Francis took that moment to appear at her side with a ready smile. Cora turned towards him, annoyed at his interruption. She wanted to continue the conversation, wanted to lash out with every spiteful, hateful thought that had ever entered her mind.
Not, of course, that she would ever go quite that far.
"Is everything alright?" Francis asked curiously, looking between Blanche and Cora.
"It's fine, Francis, thank you," Blanche said swiftly, though her cheeks were still suffused with color and her hands were still clenched into fists. She turned to Eva, who was looking at Cora with an expectant expression, and said, "How much longer will your family be staying, Eva? Should I make arrangements for a supper?"
"No, thank you," Eva said, fiddling with the folds of her skirt. Her gaze darted to Blanche for just a moment, then back to Cora. "I imagine my parents will want to return to our kingdom soon."
Cora met Eva's gaze, and couldn't understand why Eva was looking at her in that way. It was almost as though she was waiting for something to happen.
Blanche nodded absently.
"Ah, and here is Gabriel," Francis said abruptly, smiling brightly.
Cora followed Francis' gaze to where Gabriel entered the courtyard. Henry's second brother had always unnerved. Unlike Francis and Blanche, Gabriel did not wear his heart on his sleeve. He kept his thoughts locked tightly behind an expressionless façade and she'd never been able to find a weakness in his emotional armor.
He didn't like her – that much was obvious as, unlike Blanche, he didn't even try to hide it. But he also wasn't afraid of her. And that bothered Cora.
Fortunately, Gabriel had never shown any interest in the politics of the kingdom, even if he was next in line for the throne after Francis' children. He was anti-social, and avoided the pageantry and spectacle of all these royal functions. That also meant that he mostly left Cora alone.
He'd told her once that gold bored him.
Francis excused himself and quickly went to join his brother, rescuing Gabriel from the circle of courtiers that had inevitably formed around him at his appearance. The two brothers bent their heads together, falling automatically into deep conversation.
Eva gave Cora one last, searching look – but what, Cora wondered, was she searching for? – and then murmured her excuses to Blanche and slipped out of the conversation and towards Francis and Gabriel. Her departure seemed to be the signal for all the gathered courtiers to flock to Cora once more. They circled her and Blanche, cooing and fawning, but Cora followed Eva, still incensed and not wanting to let go of the argument.
She reached Francis, Gabriel, and Eva, and took a sip of her wine.
"Cora," Gabriel said, bowing his head in an expressionless greeting. "Eva was just informing me that she and her parents would be leaving soon. We will be sorry to see them go."
"Yes," Cora agreed. "I do enjoy tormenting her."
She hadn't meant to say the words. They'd slipped out, falling heavily into the silence. It wasn't as though she didn't fully mean them, and she'd said them often enough to Eva herself, and to Blanche. But she'd never said them so openly in front of all the courtiers.
Francis looked taken aback, then recovered quickly and said smoothly, "Yes, a little friendly banter is often enjoyable, don't you agree, Eva?" And he sent a pleading look in her direction, clearly begging her to ignore Cora's comment.
Eva pressed her lips together tightly, and gave a short nod.
"It's hardly friendly," Cora said. Again, the words seemed to come of their own accord. And again, they were completely true, but not something she would have ever admitted in front of the courtiers whose support she needed.
"Cora, please…" Blanche whispered, coming up behind her.
"Please what?" Cora snapped. "Aren't I allowed to say what I feel?"
"No one is saying that you can't, but…" Blanche started, but then Gabriel interrupted her.
"And what do you feel?" he asked, frowning at Cora.
"I despise all of you," Cora answered immediately, without thought. The resentment that had lingered in her chest for a long time now, growing, turning sour, came seeping into her tone. "You disgust me." Her eyes swept over all of them before finally landing on Eva. "You arrogant, spoiled child." She sneered. "Do you think I will ever forget? Do you think I will ever forgive? I want to see you on your knees, I want your kneecaps to crack and freeze on the stones, I want you're your neck to break from bending."
Eva's skin had gone sheet-white, the blood draining from her face. She stared at Cora with wide, shocked eyes, her hands twisted into the fabric of her dress, clutching it tightly. Her bloodless lips parted, as though she wanted to speak, but no sound came out.
"Cora…" Blanche whispered, horror-struck.
Cora whipped around to face her. "And you. All you are is fake. You smile and laugh and murmur your useless, pretty words. You think because you showed me basic civility I should be your servant, your sycophant. Your perfectly obedient sister-in-law. You wanted me to sing your praises because you were big enough to be decent."
"I never… Cora, I never wanted anything from you but your friendship," Blanche protested quietly, struck nearly dumb by the savagery in Cora's words. "I gave you kindness because you were family, and I did not expect anything but the same in return."
"Family," Cora scoffed, all her hidden feelings coming to the surface. "What a pointless word. What does family mean, really? Do you honestly think some inane vow is enough to make me care for any of you? My vows meant nothing to me."
It was then Francis spoke, his words low, his voice shaking with fury. "You married my brother."
"Yes, and perhaps that was a mistake," Cora answered coolly. "I should have left when I had the chance."
"Left?"
Cora opened her mouth to answer, but then bit down hard on her tongue, hard enough to draw blood. She wanted – needed – to tell them about the life she'd almost had, the one she'd traded in for all this. But her past with Rumplestilskin was not something she wanted them know, not even something she wanted to dwell on.
She choked on the words.
"I meant to leave all you pathetic fools," she said. "Fifth in line to the throne? How could that be enough? I would never have power, not with all of you in my way." She reached out, her fingers skimming over the gold thread woven into Blanche's dress. "You wear your fancy clothes because of me. Your royal treasury is brimming with gold because of me." She laughed suddenly, spitefully, at the irony of it all. "If only you knew the hatred that went into it all. The bloodlust. Every strand of gold I make for you is made imagining how much I want to see you all break."
"You – what?"
It was a truth she had lived every day for the past year, a hidden secret she had always enjoyed. A way of striking back at their arrogance, their greed. All that gold that she bestowed on them…
"Magic requires emotion and that hatred – my hatred of you all – that is what makes your gold!" Cora laughed almost manically.
It was wrong, all wrong. All these thoughts – she tormented Blanche as frequently as she could, and Francis whenever she could get away with it, but they were never supposed to know her hidden thoughts. And yet somehow the words came pouring. Somehow, she could no longer hide who she really was, how she really felt.
Her mask was gone.
"That precious crown you are wearing," she said, still laughing, "Francis – that I created by thinking how much I wished your dearest Blanche was dead."
"You're… you're heartless," Blanche whispered shakily.
"Yes, darling," Cora agreed, smiling at Blanche's unknowing accuracy, "I am."
Francis looked stunned, shaken. His face was ashen, his expression open and bewildered. He stared at her unseeingly, mouth open, breath shallow. His vacant gaze slid over her face, speechless.
Beside him, Blanche let out a tiny whimper.
And Francis shook himself, as though coming out of a daze.
In a tone of finality, of strength Cora had never once expected to hear from him, he said, "You are banished."
Time stood still.
The words didn't fully sink in. Around Cora, the courtiers murmured, whispered. She'd heard those whispers before, that smothered laughter. She knew what she would see if she turned to face them all. It was what she had seen in their eyes that day, what she had glimpsed when she'd looked up from her place on her knees…
Glee.
They were reveling in her misfortune.
"I'll give my apologies to Henry later – and thankfully he isn't here to witness this," Francis continued, "but you… you are no longer welcome in this kingdom, Cora. You will gather your things and go."
"Go?" Cora whispered, her chest tightening. Go? Everything she had worked for, this life that she had created for herself, was being snatched away from her. She couldn't let that happen, she couldn't let him ruin everything. "But where will I…"
"I don't care," Francis cut in sharply, fiercely, anger creeping into his words. The formality was gone. The kingliness was gone. He was no longer a ruler stating a proclamation – he was a man facing the snake they had all let into his own family. "But you will go."
She twisted around to look at the courtiers. There was something vicious in the smug way they stared at her, watching as her words, her hatred, destroyed everything.
They relished her fall, like dogs catching the scent of blood.
She needed to stop. She needed to think. She could fix this, she could bring the courtiers back to her side, promise them wealth and power and-
"You – you simpering, pathetic fools," Cora snarled, unable to stop the words. She desperately needed their help, needed their support – but, oh, she hated them. They were beneath her. "Do you have any idea how easy it was to get each and every one of you wrapped around my finger? You were so desperate for my approval and so greedy for gold. You traded in your pride and for what? For dresses and jewels, for a chance to wear finery you never deserved. For power that was never yours."
There was a bristling movement, and a murmur ran through the crowd of onlookers. Silk dresses rustled along the courtyard stones as the courtiers drew back, away from Cora and her venom.
"And you," Cora snarled, rounding on Francis once more. "You think you can banish me? You'd send your own brother and niece out of the kingdom?"
"You misunderstand," Francis replied coldly. "I'm not banishing Henry or Regina. Just you." And he paused, letting the words sink in, then he turned and waved his hands in summons. "Guards. Escort Cora to her rooms to pack, then procure a carriage and horses for her. She leaves today."
"You idiot," Cora sneered as the guards appeared at her side, their faces blank, their hands on their swords. "You need me. You need my gold. Your kingdom can't survive without me!" When Francis ignored her words, seemed not to care, she added viciously, "I will kill you if I have to!"
Francis took a step back at the threat, surprised. Somehow, despite everything she had said – despite her admission that she wished Blanche was dead – he had still not expected her to go this far.
Her threat – was treason.
Francis swallowed, unhappiness and indecision on his features, but the courtiers were all watching him avidly and she'd made a blatant threat - then he squared his shoulders and ordered, "Arrest her."
One of the guards reached out towards her. His fingers closed around her arm, his tight grip drawing her away from Francis and Blanche, and all of the anger, all of the hatred, that Cora had kept inside her for years came flooding out, bursting from her fingertips and shattering the stones at her feet.
Fragments flew through the air, scattering about.
Eva stumbled back, surprised. Francis surged forward, stepping protectively in front of Blanche. And Blanche stared, mouth open, at the ground.
Cora, too, was surprised. Spinning straw into gold had been her main aim, and she'd never really bothered to learn anything else. Magic was merely a means to an end, and gold had been she'd obtained power. She could rip out a heart – that much she knew. That much Rumple had shown her. But this –
She had not meant to do this. She didn't even really know how she'd done it, and she wasn't sure she could do it again.
At least not right at that moment.
But the anger was simmering inside her, searing, burning. And magic… magic was emotion.
For the first time since Rumplestilskin had placed his hands on hers and guided her fingers over the straw in the spinning wheel, she felt the stirrings of possibilities inside her.
She had magic.
She lifted a vengeful gaze to Francis. "You can't hold me. I'll get out."
"Believe me, Cora," Francis answered as he gestured for the guards to drag her away, "I will find a way."
"I will destroy you all," she said softly, dangerously, as the guards pulled her from the courtyard. "I promise you this, Francis. I will bring you to your knees."