"Showtime."
Emma mutters beneath her breath as she strips the sheets from the Queen's bed, and she hesitates for a moment as she pulls herself together. Swallowing her nerves, she takes a slow, purposeful step forward; moving into the line of sight of the grand mirror the Mayor claims to have entered this doomed realm through and stalking towards the glass. She does so slowly, taking a moment as though considering her reflection before shrouding any hopes the Evil Queen might have of spying her whereabouts.
Well... Isn't there some truth to that?
Yes, she supposes there is, and she finds herself caught off-guard as she stares back at herself with wide eyes. The blood slathering her fair skin is dark and clotted in some parts, while it remains scarlet and vital in others where she's painted it on thick; the overall result grotesquely macabre.
Well, Regina was pulling all sorts of faces at you...
True, but then, the brunette pulls faces at her all the time, and so it had been a fair assumption that she might just have been being dramatic.
Not this time.
No, not this time. This time, Emma can see the reasoning behind every flinch- every shudder- and she finds she agrees with Regina's disgust wholeheartedly.
This is supposed to be hers... Her blood... It could have been her blood. You could have used the knife... Wanted to use the knife.
Letting out a sharp expulsion of air through her nose- imagining that their little dungeon dalliance might well serve to haunt her for quite some time to come- she tells herself to play into the anger she'd suffered down in the dark behind bars and flashes her teeth at her reflection as she raises the sheet purposefully.
Use it. Use that anger. Use how the Queen made you feel... Forget about Regina.
Easier said than done, but then she should know that by now, as she has tried to push the darker woman and the effects she's prone to having on her out of her mind for the best part of a year.
Longer.
Yes. Longer.
Just leave it. Leave all that. Things have changed. We've moved on... We've talked. We've actually addressed the... That thing we never mention.
"I have a decision to make, Miss Swan, but I'm not the only one."
Clenching her jaw, the troubled look she offers the mirror before throwing the sheet over the glass is entirely genuine as her heart suddenly feels as though it's trapped in her throat.
The soft click of footsteps behind her does little to help matters.
"There you are..."
The Queen purrs as she closes in on her prey, and Emma remains stood facing shrouded glass as the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
"Here I am."
She agrees, forcing herself to remain completely still when the darker woman skims a finger down the hard leather of her corset. Turning around slowly to face her foe, she meets the brunette's gaze silently as the latter drinks in the horror painting her ensemble.
"My, my..."
The Queen breathes; caught somewhere between impressed and surprised. When the others had escaped the dungeon, she had found herself suddenly hatefully uncertain; convinced that the blonde's fury had been one hundred per cent genuine and that the Saviour posed an honest threat to the Mayor, yet thrown by her unexpected loss of control. That Emma should play a sly hand to grant her freedom from behind bars shouldn't have really come as a surprise, and yet...
It gave me pause...
Studying slick blood spattered beneath cool green now, she understands that she needn't have worried, and she offers the younger woman a curiously affectionate smile as she takes a step back to better study the result of the blonde's vengeance.
"What did you do, Saviour?"
She demands hungrily, and she supposes what she wants to know more than anything is whether or not the Mayor still lives.
Oh, I'd like to know much more than that, but I need to know the rules of the game my lesser-half and I play. I need to know whether I can truly exist without her... And it seems as though the odds are in my favour.
She smiles cruelly as she meets the blonde's gaze; raising a brow impatiently for an answer to sate her growing intrigue.
"I did nothing she didn't deserve."
Emma replies coldly, forbidding herself from glancing towards the corner as she keeps her attention carefully focused on the Queen. She knows Regina, though, and despite the fact that they've discussed where she does and doesn't place blame, and had ended that conversation on good- very good!- terms, she knows the brunette will have met her lie with a grimace. Telling herself not to worry about that right now- after all, things are about to get crazy- she simply raises her jaw and meets the Queen's dark stare coolly.
"Mmm. If I hadn't wanted to know the specifics, I wouldn't have asked, dear."
The darker woman muses silkily, and the blonde shrugs, replying boldly
"And if I'd wanted to elaborate, I would have- ah!"
She hisses as the Queen's hand finds her throat and the darker woman shows her teeth. Pushing back with a sly glance into the corner, Emma catches a faint glimmer but nothing more, and she turns back to her assailant with a snarl; all too aware that they now stand the wrong way around for the Mayor to work her trick with the mirror.
"Remember who you're dealing with, Saviour..."
The Queen warns angrily, and green eyes flash with unbridled irritation as the blonde snaps back
"I could tell you the same thing!"
And she ducks when the Queen raises her hand to her this time, using the opportunity to take a small step to the side in an attempt to better their position.
"Really, dear..."
The darker woman seethes, offering the Sheriff a scowl of pure superiority, although her arrogance dies a little when it meets her eyes; memories of the bullwhip, the viper, the diary weighing uncomfortably on her mind.
Bitch. You're a bitch, Saviour. A sly, manipulative little bitch hiding behind a shoddy mask of innocence and naivety, but now look at you. Look at what you've so clearly gone and done... Bitch.
Closing in on the younger woman, she stands toe to toe with her as she once again reaches out her hand; this time caressing the blonde's blood-streaked jaw as she asks her softly,
"Did you use it?... Did you use the knife I gave you, Saviour? Or did you conjure your own weapon?"
A sharp intake of breath greets her query as Emma feels a soft pressure against her hip, and the blonde glances down to spy an identical knife to the one she'd wielded in the dungeon pressed into the dark leather of her corset. Keeping her expression carefully neutral, she swallows as the Queen drags the blade slowly across her stomach; pushing in now and then with a dip of her hips to mime the obscene act of fucking her with it, while taking care- for now- to keep from penetrating the rough material.
"Don't get shy with me now, dear. That's not going to fly. Not after your little game down in the stables... I suggest you spill your secrets, sweetheart, before I spill something else."
A slightly harder dig of the blade, yet still, the blonde remains silent.
Taking her bottom lip pensively between her teeth as she continues her attempt to stare the younger woman down, the Queen eventually cocks her head as she murmurs
"Of course... I could always play my own version of what you did down there amongst the bones, Saviour. You got creative using what you had to hand, and I suppose I could do the same..."
She drags the knife suggestively south; turning it slightly in her hand to press the hilt against the base of the younger woman's corset and Emma fails to suppress a shiver.
"What did you do to her?"
The Queen demands once again, reclaiming her grip and digging the sharp point of the blade just a little deeper so that it slices through black leather.
"What do you think?"
Emma hisses, looking down at herself pointedly as she takes another sly step to turn them around; allowing the cruel tip of the Queen's weapon to pierce her flesh. She doesn't dare glance towards the corner; uncertain what the Mayor might be making of intensifying events. Nor does she know what to say to appease the woman digging a hole into her stomach without entering dangerously perverse territory she might end up paying for one way or the other.
"I think you're being grossly evasive, dear. Telling, perhaps? Your silence on the matter leads me to believe that your retribution on our poor Mayor must have been harsh. Slick. Cruel... It leads me to believe that you enjoyed it."
"So what if I did?"
Emma challenges, chancing another step and forbidding her face from showing the icy twinge of pain that shoots up her side.
"Mm... I wouldn't find myself overly surprised. Others might; the sweet little Saviour relishing the warm flow of her tormentor's blood. Not I. Not after witnessing who you really are... I'm just surprised you're being so secretive all of a sudden... Why is that, dear? Did you cross a line? Did you surprise yourself with your wickedness?... Did it turn you on?"
Full lips pull back in a slow smile of understanding, and the blonde breathes a sigh of relief as the Queen withdraws the blade to go back to running it up stiff leather; its tip now stained crimson.
"Regina would never call me sweet..."
Emma goads, silently forcing them each to take another step as she matches the Queen's sinful smirk. She catches a slight flicker in the shadows but doesn't dare lower her attention from the Queen's fiery gaze.
She just hopes she's done enough to move them into position.
She just hopes the Queen lowers the fucking knife before Regina pushes them through.
Can she see it from where she's standing?
She doesn't know and supposes it doesn't really matter. The situation is no longer in her control; she's done her part, and she's just going to have to trust the Mayor with the rest.
Well, if I have to trust anyone, it's her.
She muses, and she knows that this sentiment doesn't just derive from their heated conversation down in Daniel's cottage, but rather, the entirety of their relationship. For quite some time now, Regina hasbeen her first choice when it comes to trust- as much trust as she has in her to give- and she finds herself thinking again about the Mayor stating that she has a choice- a decision to make- and she supposes there's not really all that much to it.
It will be awkward and uncomfortable, but hell, that's where I shine. And Hook might be upset- probably, he'll be upset- and he'll definitely let me know loud and clear that he told me so; that he's had his suspicions pretty much since day one, but... Isn't that sort of the issue? Hasn't that always sort of been the issue?
"She offered me a choice. A chance."
She muses quietly, and the Queen frowns as she tries to put this queer statement into context.
Into the context of blood. Of punishment.
"What, dear?"
"She's offered me a chance, and I want to take it. I've decided what I want."
"What are you talking about? I don't understand."
Dark brows furrow with clear agitation, and the blonde smiles as she spares little interest for whether the Queen follows her or not. What matters is Regina, and she knows the brunette will have understood her perfectly well.
And, I guess, this way, I can avoid an immediate conversation on the matter...
Laughing quietly at her own expense, she simply laughs harder when the Queen's lips pull back in a snarl of irritatable confusion, before taking one final step to face the darker woman head-on with her back to the mirror; tugging at the sheet shrouding the glass to send it down to the floor.
"No. You don't understand."
She agrees.
"Not right now. You lack the ability to understand anything that matters. You lack the part that's actually pretty good at that... You call it weakness, but that isn't right at all... How could it be? She's bested you."
"What?"
The Queen demands.
"What do you-"
But the rest is lost in a cry of shocked fury as the Mayor rushes forth and forces all three of them through the enchanted glass and hurtling into the darkness suspended between the realms.