A/N: This fic will be the death of me! I really struggled to find the tone for this chapter, and I ask that you please be gentle with me (constructive criticism is fine) as I've been working and reworking this for the last two days. The current lack of any humanity in either character makes it a hard story- for now- to write without either irreparably crossing the line (ie, without them just killing each other!). Conversely, I don't want to keep things too safe, as that wasn't my intention for this fic. On that note, I know I said I wouldn't add warnings for this story as I advised it would be twisted/ dark from the outset, but as it's been so long and some of you might be having as hard a time remembering events as I was, this chapter contains violence and general cruel behaviour. I really hope it works :/. I also want to reiterate here that this IS a SwanQueen/ SQ endgame story, and there's a lot more to come :) Reviews would be really lovely.
"What did you do!?"
The Queen cries when she finally catches her breath and some wherewithal of the situation. Her question is largely unwarranted- the cloying musk of the poppies unmistakable- but she's still coming around from their noxious effect and suffering a tenuous grasp on her consciousness. She can't remember ever feeling as shocked as she does now, not just in light of the blonde's wicked trickery, but because of the way she has been manhandled following her inhalation of the pollen currently rendering her powerless. She has been thrown up against the heavy doors of the stable; forced into place while weak and unable to support herself, and as she finally regains some semblance of a regular heartbeat, she regards Emma with open horror as the blonde pulls a crudely fashioned leather cuff tightly into place around her wrist.
"You're not dead..."
She croaks, watching the younger woman wrestle with the buckle that keeps her homemade restraint in place. Emma steps back to admire her handiwork; the Queen's ankles and other hand already taken care of.
"No. I'm not."
Emma agrees, before asking coldly
"Was that what you were going for?"
"Not specifically, but I presumed my little mind trick crossed the line somehow when you suddenly disappeared. You made a terrible mess of the floor, dear."
The Queen muses, striving to keep her shock from her tone as, internally, she's starting to panic. Not only is her current predicament far from fit for a Queen, but it is entirely foreign to her. She has been rendered nude, which has lost all of its sensual appeal now that she's out in the elements, and the more she drinks in of the Saviour's curious contraption, the more she understands that this is an entirely different game they play now. This is dark. Perverted. It bears some similarity to her use of the hood down in the dungeon, only...
... Only I wasn't the one wearing that. I wasn't the one humiliated. I am the Queen, I am everything, and the wretch has me trussed up like a servant for auction. Worse; the use of leather and buckles. The aesthetic of that other world's slave girl.
Of debauched prey.
She swallows as she is all too aware that the blonde currently plays every bit the predator; stood watching her in a shaft of moonlight, paying the rain and the thunder no mind.
"Crossed the line!?"
Emma seethes, her tone arctic, and the Queen smirks as she can well imagine the younger woman deems her trickery rather more despicable than the saying accounts for.
"Crossed the line between realms, dear. Between life and death. Had that been the case, it would have come as a surprise and I would have been unsure of the specifics, but it could have been possible. I felt something in you... I felt it break."
"You felt nothing."
The blonde snaps, refusing to allow the Queen such fanciful thoughts, and before the darker woman can show the audacity of thinking it's her place to say more on the matter, she continues in a soft, dangerous voice
"But you're going to."
"Yes. You're certainly setting the scene for it."
The brunette agrees, maintaining her illusion of mild bemusement for just a little longer, while all too aware the blonde means to punish her viciously for what she'd done back in the bedroom.
Green eyes narrow in response but Emma says nothing, and the Queen has known the younger woman long enough in her previous guise to know that this is definitely not a promising sign. Her fears are justified- and greatly increased- when she watches Emma bend down and take possession of her old lunge whip.
"Saviour..."
She warns nervously, her charade of control cracking visibly as she pulls against her restraints.
"Quiet."
Emma admonishes, before making sure she has the Queen's undivided attention with a hard lash to the floor; the sound ominously loud as it echoes off of the damp stone.
"Don't..."
The darker woman breathes, knowing it will do her no good to try and barter, but not quite ready to accept her imminent fate.
She can't. Can't use that thing on me. She wouldn't dare...
"Saviour!"
She tries again, this time injecting just a little hope into the title; imploring the idiot blonde to remember her place. To revert back to the confused young woman she'd handcuffed to the bed.
"What?"
Emma demands.
Dark eyes flicker from bruised lips to the whip held down by the blonde's side and the Queen warns a little louder
"Don't. Don't use that."
"Why?"
"Because... It will hurt. I'll bleed."
"It will. You will."
The younger woman agrees, and when she catches a slight frown alight the brunette's brow, she closes in on her and pushes the hard hilt of the whip against the Queen's stomach as she speaks softly into her ear.
"You wanted to play with me, remember? You wanted the bitch to come out. You were adamant. You wanted the darkness, Your Majesty, you said so yourself."
"I didn't mean-"
"-What? Didn't mean what you said?... You should know me well enough by now to know I take issue with that. You assured me that you would get what you wanted, Regina, and now you have it. You have me. You have my full, undivided attention on you... You also have a shit-load of insider knowledge about me that I never consensually gave you. That really doesn't bode well for you."
"They were just memories..."
"They were my memories! Mine! My secrets, and my nightmares."
Emma growls against the soft skin of the brunette's cheek, before stepping back and shaking her head, her voice low with warning when she continues
"That was a dumb move on your part, and I think you're beginning to realise that for yourself. I've worked hard to master keeping black thoughts locked up over the years; it's better for me, and it's better for everyone else. I can stray too close to one trigger, maybe even two, and I can keep my shit together and behave rationally. Appropriately. I'm stronger than you, I always have been; I didn't need to let anger win. I didn't need to make others pay for the crap I've been through. I kept it in, and I've been called cold, and I've been called a bitch, and I've been goaded and teased for some of my mannerisms that maybe aren't considered so normal. Regina did a lot of that. A lot of teasing me, which all seems a bit rich now I think about it. Now that I really think about it. Now that I'm not just faced with one memory or two... Now that I've watched in quick succession every one of the worst things I've been through, and realise that so much of it- almost all of it- leads back to her. To you."
"You flatter me."
The Queen purrs, and she knows she'll regret it as soon as the words leave her lips, but to respond in such a way is pure habit, and she has no other answer to give. She is sure the pathetic mess of her Storybrooke counterpart might grovel for forgiveness- that she might genuinely feel remorse in knowing some of the gritty specifics gleaned during her brief foray into the blonde's mind- but she feels only outrage that she remains bound and cold at the mercy of a crude weapon never intended for use on royalty.
"Good."
Comes the reply, and she suffers a moment of confusion as this definitely wasn't the response she'd anticipated, before the cruel tongue of the whip cracks against the soft flesh below her navel, eliciting a white heat followed by sharp pain and the wet trickle of blood.
"Ah!"
The noise she makes is little less than a scream, and she glares at her assailant with a mixture of fury and apprehension; watching Emma pull back to land another blow.
"Saviour!"
The Queen cries out as a second welt beads scarlet above her left breast, and she feels an uncharacteristic wave of indisputable fear when the blonde shows no emotion- no malicious laughter, no screaming venom, no conflicted tears- as she pulls back for a third time.
"Emma!"
The Queen shouts, before the word twists into a pained yelp and she endures a third lash just below the first; fresh blood welling to the surface before trickling south between her legs.
"What?"
The blonde replies coldly, and the darker woman bares her teeth furiously as this reply feels entirely ludicrous given the circumstances.
"Stop!"
She orders, striving to keep any hint of begging from her voice.
"Why?"
Emma asks again, staring the Queen down in the silence that follows; the latter unable to come up with an answer.
"You haven't stopped once..."
The blonde accuses softly, and the darker woman shakes her head as she reasons
"That was sex. That was pleasure. This isn't the same thing."
"No?"
"No! Do you think I'm enjoying this?"
"I don't really care whether you are or not. I am. No more or less so than you enjoyed forcing me to wear that hood."
"You loved it."
"No."
"Liar. I felt how close you were to the edge."
"You were fucking me. All things aside, you're good for one thing."
"This isn't the same."
The Queen reiterates angrily, before watching warily as the blonde closes in on her for a second time.
"No?"
Emma asks, grabbing a fistful of thick hair and tugging hard as she presses the flat of her tongue to the brunette's cheek before scraping soft skin with her teeth. Allowing a small smirk when the darker woman tries to pull away in favour of glowering at her furiously, she glances down at the blood tracking the Queen's pubis before taking hold of her jaw and inserting two fingers into her mouth.
"No, no– bite me, and I stop playing so nicely. Wet them. I presume you want to do so before they get bloody?"
Emma asks silkily, and dark coals shoot daggers at her as the Queen makes a choking sound.
"Don't give me that look. I'm being much nicer than you deserve."
The blonde warns, and when she retracts her fingers and allows the darker woman to catch her breath, the Queen asks her incredulously
"You're being nice?!"
"Very."
Emma nods, before thrusting her slicked fingers deep while rocking her hips into the brunette's to add more force to the intrusion.
"Ah!"
The Queen hisses, but when the blonde pulls back and repeats the action, she responds reluctantly with a groan.
"Does this make it all better? Does this make it all fucking fair?"
Emma asks, and when she receives nothing but a glower, she begins fucking the Queen with greater intent; trailing her fingers up a little every now and then to mix blood with saliva and the brunette's helpless excitement.
"You're full of it though, aren't you? This stopped being a game back in the palace. You ask me to stop hurting you, claiming that's not how this goes, when those rules are laughable at best and you were perfectly content with the idea you might have killed me."
"Are you still sore about that?"
The darker woman growls, struggling to appease her sense of self as she remains incensed by the blonde's behaviour, in pain due to the cruel welts painting her flesh, yet at the mercy of her baser urges; the slick teasing of the younger woman's fingers causing her to strain against her bonds in a way that no longer has much to do with a wish to escape.
A hard thrust in retaliation to her comment, and the Queen grits her teeth as there is something intoxicating about this situation that feels traitorous to acknowledge. She's better than this. Better than quivering with pleasure while being treated like a servant girl.
I am everything. All my best parts.
She repeats in her head as a low hum of pleasure escapes her lips, and she understands that where her current circumstances are wildly out of her comfort zone, that same crazed depravity that has seen their interactions through this far lends her anger a passionate flare.
Besides... The Saviour's crude violence still pales in comparison to the hand I played infiltrating her mind. Whether she likes it or not, I'm still the one with the power here.
So she gladly allows herself to believe, and when the blonde pushes into her- leather heavy against bare flesh- she chafes her teeth against the latter's jaw, almost as though she's encouraging her.
Emma ducks in response, and for a moment, the Queen believes the Saviour is punishing her for her enjoyment, but then she observes silently as the younger woman lays the lunge whip down at her feet. She enjoys a brief interlude of smug relief, before swallowing when the blonde reaches out and selects a new implement from the pegs to their right.
"No..."
She whispers, earning herself a hard look, but Emma doesn't move back with the bullwhip in order to allow space to swing it. Instead, she resumes her position pressed against the Queen, and the darker woman feels her breath catch in her throat as the blonde pushes the hilt of the whip against her sex.
"Yes."
Emma corrects her, pushing in slowly, and the brunette closes her eyes while sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.
"This is no way to treat a Queen."
She murmurs huskily, her breathing audible, and the blonde nips dominantly at her clavicle before asking
"Do you want me to stop?"
Unsure whether answering positively would grant her any reprieve or not, the Queen hesitates before shaking her head.
"What was that?"
Emma snaps, thrusting deep, and the darker woman bites back a moan before she can help herself, and mutters reluctantly
"No. Don't stop."
"Hmm?"
The blonde teases, using the hand not guiding the whip to play over slick flesh, and the Queen growls as any lingering sting from the whip seems momentarily distant in her mind, and her anger at her predicament has taken on a lustful, needy edge.
"I said no. Don't stop!"
She snaps, forever confident despite the way their roles currently fall.
Misplaced confidence it seems, as, after a particularly slow thrust of the whip, the younger woman abruptly steps back.
"What are you doing?!"
The Queen cries, and Emma rolls her eyes as she stands with her hands on her hips; the fingers of the left glistening damningly.
"Really? You don't know?"
"But... You asked! You asked what I wanted!"
"Which just makes this all the more sweet."
The blonde grins, and it is an odd expression; cruel as intended, but lacking any cheek previously hinted at beneath.
"You-"
"-Let me guess? Bitch? That's getting old, Regina."
"So is your move, dear."
The Queen retorts, although the effect is somewhat diminished as she remains clearly on edge; crude leather still in place and causing her breath to hitch as gravity goes slowly about doing its job.
"How so?"
Emma demands.
"I've played this hand already. I've played it more than once! Punishing you by leaving you wanting. Your trick is nothing new."
"It is, though."
The blonde argues, and when her response is met with a frown, she takes a further step back and watches with a raised brow as the whip lands slickly on wet stone.
"Pity."
"How is this different?"
The brunette growls, feeling a hint of humiliation which doesn't sit well with her at all.
"Because, as you said, that was sex. It was about the game. You played with me as you saw fit; not as an equal, because you see my lineage as a joke."
"Lineage?! A shepherd and a thief-"
"-A Knight and a Princess. A Queen."
Emma corrects, and for once, she does so without looking sheepish, lending her words some strength.
"Call them what you will, you will never be fit for the throne..."
"Maybe not, which is fine by me. I'm merely stating that's how you see things. You call me the Saviour to taunt me; spitting the title with disdain you make no effort to hide. Again, that's fine by me, although I feel obliged to point out that I lived up to the title you mock me for. I won."
"So?"
The brunette demands, beginning to shiver as her adrenaline comes down enough to make her aware of how cold their surroundings have become now that night has fallen.
"So, you see me as pleases you: you see me as nothing. I, however, see you as the Queen. Hell, I've had enough experience with you to know that it suits you. You can have your title... What I'm not willing to give you, what I will never give you, is the respect it commands. You denied me my pleasure when that's all you had to offer me in the first place. I'm denying you yours, but I'm doing so with your position very much in mind. I have your blood on my clothes and your need painting my hand. I have you trussed up and helpless. I have you quivering and wanting, Your Majesty, in a way I know no one else ever has. I've conquered you... I acknowledge what you are, and it is with that thought in mind that I'm denying you. I have you more vulnerable, more carnally degraded than any other soul ever has, yet I have no further desire to play with you..."
Emma muses, affecting a small shrug to add insult to injury.
"How dare you speak to me in such a way?!"
The Queen seethes, hot rage igniting her blood in the face of the younger woman's unforgivable irreverence.
"With ease, and with pleasure."
Emma replies, before turning around and heading towards the opening to the courtyard.
"Where are you going?!"
The brunette demands, and when she's denied an answer, she raises her voice with an audible note of panic
"You can't leave me here!"
Emma stops in her tracks, looking over her shoulder to repeat the question she has asked several times before.
"Why?"
"I'm bare! I'll perish!"
"And?"
"Saviour, you-"
"-I nothing... Besides, you're being dramatic. The effect of the poppies will wear off in a while and you'll be free to figure out your next pathetic move. Just know, I'll be ready."
"But it's freezing! I can't wait that long! It-"
"-You can. You may not want to, but physically, it's possible. I should know. I know a lot about being cold. About making do outside. Of course, you know all that now, right? You saw some of the things that can happen out in the cold. You wanted to know so badly what having it rough might be like... Enjoy that."