Chapter 2: Chapter Two
Regina bolted upright with a cry. The darkness around her was impenetrable to sleepy eyes. She clutched white-knuckled at the sheets, one hand at her chest to comfort her thundering heart. She forced herself to take a long, deep breath, and, slowly, the room came into focus in the dark. She remembered that she was at home, in her own room, in her own bed. Safe. She glanced at the luminous digital clock on the nightstand. 12:01am, it flashed at her.
Midnight, she thought, irritably.
She drew the cool night air quietly in and released it slowly through parted lips. Instinctively, her gaze darted to the window. There was nothing there. Through the half open curtains that danced in the breeze, she could see the ocean in the distance. It was a darker line against the night-dark sky. Above it, the full moon glowed brightly. Questing fingers of silver light streamed through the window, pooling silently on the floor beside her bed. Regina glared at the silver puddle for a long moment, wondering if the brightness was what had woken her so abruptly. But she reconsidered. She knew it wasn't moonlight that had woken her. No, it was magic.
She shook herself, dispelling the dregs of sleep, then closed her eyes and breathed in the night more deeply still. She felt the tingle of magic pulling at her from the direction of the sea. She furrowed her brow in concentration, and became aware of a tugging sensation deep in her chest. It was strong and insistent, as though she should get up and follow its silent suggestion at once. As she became fully awake and focused, she let the sensation turn her head slowly back towards the window. She felt a tug and opened her eyes, gasping as the brightness of the full moon burst into her. She yelped aloud as the gentle tug took on a powerful surge, reminiscent of a hook behind her rib cage. She clutched frantically at the sheets one more, her back arching powerfully as though she were being pulled toward the moon by a string through her heart.
"Enough of this!" she gasped through gritted teeth.
Her magic flared at her fingertips. She threw one hand up and then swept it back down decisively, severing the invisible cord. The sensation abruptly dissipated, and she swung her legs irritably out of the bed. She pushed her feet into the waiting grey slippers beside it, and stalked over to the window.
She slammed it shut.
Roughly, she pulled the curtains tightly over it and plunged the room into darkness. She cast a protection spell across it for good measure, then stood back and dusted her hands with a smug smile. Not a trace of moonlight filtered through.
"That's better," she declared. She glared at the closed drapes for a moment, daring them to try something.
Nothing happened.
With a huff, she stalked back to the bed, using the dim illumination of the bedside clock to light her way. Kicking off her slippers, she glared once more at the tightly shut window and drapes, then lay back and flung the covers over herself in annoyance. As she settled against the pillow and stared up at the dark ceiling, she relaxed and let her mind explore what had just happened. Someone, or something, had pushed a flash of powerful magic at her. Of that, she was certain.
The question was, why?
She imagined again the sensations she had felt, musing on the insistent tugging that had flared up under the glow of the moonlight. It hadn't felt like anything she'd ever experienced before. She ran through her mind a catalogue of spells, enchantments, and natural magical phenomena, but by the time the bedside clock flashed 12:53am, she was no closer to solving the riddle. Despite her many years of magical expertise, she had no idea what it could be.
Tomorrow, she thought at last, stifling a yawn. Although the magic had been strong and unsettling, she had confidence in her protection spell, and she would give the whole thing more thought over a strong cup of tea in the morning. She was tired, and the riddle could wait.
With a sigh, she emptied her mind of the problem and invited sleep to take her, but before she had quite succumbed to slumber, her thoughts drifted back to the dream she had been caught up in before she'd been so rudely awakened. Frowning even with her eyes closed, she tried to ignore it and force sleep. It hadn't exactly been a pleasant dream, and she didn't particularly want to think about it. It had involved Daniel, Robin, and her father.
She felt her chest tighten, as though the invisible hook that had snared her before was back, twisting her heart. They were all people she had loved - and lost - one way or another. All pretty, temporary dreams; moments in life when she had naively dared to have hope. Moments that had bitterly burned themselves out and left her the lonely Queen of the ashes. She lifted the corner of her mouth in distaste, as though the real flavour of ash coated her tongue.
Villains don't get happy endings.
She turned onto her side, forcing the dream faces of her once-loved ones from her mind.
Love is weakness.
She clung to the mantra like a lifeline. Yet still, the hook turned in her heart. A tear formed unbidden at the corner of her lashes and drifted forlornly down her cheek. A sad, quiet emptiness flowed through her, leaving in its wake an unbearable aching. She closed her eyes tightly, fists clenched to stem the threatening tide.
Love is weakness. I don't need it.
Her voice screamed in her mind, but another tear escaped her.
I don't WANT it!
She curled into a ball and forced her thoughts to Henry, her only happiness. She loved him, truly, in a way she hadn't thought possible. He was her reason for living; the light in her otherwise dark and bitter life. Thoughts of him always calmed her, pushed her despair back into its cage, and left her able to breathe again.
But not tonight.
Tonight, somehow, something was different. Something was wrong. Despite her best efforts, she could not pin his face in her mind. The image of his smile wavered, faded, vanished.
Unchained, the loneliness roared forth, crushing her vain efforts at control. She gasped for breath, and her sobs broke free at last. Tonight, even Henry wasn't enough. She couldn't control the surge of emotion. It overwhelmed her, and as her tears streamed unchecked, all that was left was despair.
Weekly Power Status
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