Chapter Text
Wielding magic is like owning an extra limb. Or a tail. You learn to use it to your advantage until it becomes more than a mere skill. It becomes a part of you; it weaves itself into the makeup of your soul. Everyone’s is different, Regina has learned, and yet somehow the same. Nearly all the magic she has so far encountered presents itself as a taste in the back of her mouth. Mother’s was coppery; a tangy metallic taste like blood. Maleficent’s was smoke, pure and deep like a cigarette. Regina’s is sour, like green apples or sherbet. It somehow incorporates both of her influences- both the hint of petrichor from her mother’s magic and also the syrupy sweet shade of Rumplestiltskin’s. She has grown to love it, the taste being perhaps her favourite attribute these days.
So without it Regina feels strange. That’s just it- at first it’s not entirely unpleasant. Indeed, at first the change was so subtle she hadn’t even noticed it. It felt almost like a subtle headache, but she’d dismissed it as she so often does with minor ailments. Now though, tied up and ‘bagged’ in the back of Greg’s car, it made everything seem surreal. She felt as though she were dreaming, as though none of this was really; and she really wished it wasn’t.
Her instincts prevented her from going down without a fight. Aside from the initial surprise of having a bag thrown over her head she fought well for a small woman who relies on magic far too much. She made a silent promise that she would start going to the gym when she got away from the imbeciles. With three against one, and that one blinded, there was never going to be much of a fight, she knew that. However she has learned how to struggle sufficiently while being bound by her mother’s magic, and it doesn’t escape her notice how at first she was trying to get away from magic and now she yearns for it. She had kicked out and felt quite happy with herself when she heard Hook grunt.
When they finally managed to tie back her wrists Regina found herself frozen to the spot. Immediately thrown back to horrific childhood punishments, she is paralysed with fear and unknowingly complies with her captors. It’s not until she’s bundled into the back of a car and the door slams against her head that she realises the opportune moment for escape has passed. For a moment she attempts to keep track of where they are going despite her blindfold- this is a small town that Regina knows very well- however they’re either taking a difficult route on purpose or she’s simply off her game because she loses her bearings after the third turn. Having deemed escape futile she decides that rather than waste her breath kicking and screaming, she may as well have some fun.
“If this is what Daddy was teaching you maybe it’s a good thing he abandoned you after all!” She hears his sharp intake of breath and it spurs her on, “I guess little Owen had to learn to drive all by himself,” She feels rather than hears him slam the breaks on and she flies forward (sideways) crushing her arm against her side and hitting her head against the window roller of the old fashioned car. It takes her a while to recover before she can continue her taunting.
“He wasn’t much a driver either,” This time Greg lets out an audible groan and it makes her grin behind her bag. “Although he was fast,” She leaves a slight pause before her punchline. “He drove away from you quick enough, didn’t he?”
The laugh she gets in response not only surprises her, it angers her. Even after she pin’s it as the pirate’s laugh, it still ruins the barb that she had intended to wound with.
“She doesn’t bloody stop, does she?” He chuckled. Rather than let the opportunity go to waste she decides to step in.
“Neither did Owen’s father…” With a cringe she thinks of how disappointed Henry would be if he could hear her
It hits her suddenly; Henry. What will happen? Will she ever see him again? She’s no longer afraid of death- she’s already had many more days than she deserves- but she couldn’t leave Henry without saying goodbye. This is the only thought that holds her back as she considers another comment. She’s done enough though, apparently, as when Greg/Owen pulls her out of the car he throws her knees-first on the concrete floor and kicks her while she’s on the floor. The pain barely phases her, and while she doubles up she feels entirely numb. Greg lowers his face so close to his that she can hear his breathing even through the bag.
“Say one more thing about my father I dare you,” The Evil Queen bubbles at the word ‘dare’ and Regina’s opened her mouth before she can collect herself.
“He needed a haircut,” She taunts and almost regret’s it when Greg aims a right hook to her already bruised ribs.
“Do you feel that, Your Majesty? Do you feel that pain?” He doesn’t give her a chance to respond before he snarls out “There is much, much worse to come,”
Regina has known pain. She has been beaten and bruised carefully so that it is not visible to others but so she feels it in every step she takes. She has had her heart ripped out and squeezed to within an inch of her life. She has watched her first and only love been killed right in front of her eyes on her accord. She has held her dying mother in her arms and lost her son and killed her father. She has been starved, tortured, humiliated and used. She is ready for whatever they do to her.
Unable to look him in the eye, she tilts her head so he can but imagine her sneer as she whispers; “Bring it,”
As it is, he does.
The electric shock is a new kind of pain; unfamiliar to Regina. The sheer amount of energy it takes to absorb all the energy being pumped into her body is exhausting at first. It only becomes worse.
And yet still she doesn’t give in. Her resilience is starting to surprise herself, especially as she watches Greg crank the dial up higher and higher and higher. You can’t prepare yourself for pain; it’s unnatural to the body and therefore cannot simply be accepted. But Regina does her damn best to try. She nearly chews through her lip trying to stop herself from crying out at this new, horrific sensation.
The worst part is the feeling itself has connotations with magic- the familiar sensation flooding through you, filling your veins and energising you from head to toe. Therefore the experience takes what she views as a happy feeling starts to tear her apart, taking her love for magic and twisting it into something terrible. Yet somehow it makes her yearn for her missing limb; her tail.
This is all she can think of when Snow offers to take the cuff off. She pauses, pulling back her arm out of Snow’s reach on instinct and gripping the cuff tighter than she meant to.
“N-not quite yet,” She mumbles quietly and she doesn’t miss her stepdaughter’s confused frown.
“But Regina, surely you can use magic to heal yourself?” Regina frowns. She’s never let on to any real physical pain, which must mean she has scars. True enough she reaches up a hand and feels her skin around her hairline; dry and cracked. Snow’s frown is still present and Regina is worried she’s going to ask if she’s okay, so she rolls her eyes.
“Snow, when will you learn that magic is not so simple?” Just this once it is, but Snow doesn’t need to know that. Mary Margaret, however, doesn’t lose her concerned frown even as she walks away.
Regina doesn’t feel strong enough to handle the return of her magic, despite how much she yearns for it. The feeling of being electrocuted hasn’t fully left her- evident when Snow returns with a cool glass of water. She’s strong enough to be sitting up now, despite protests from the Charmings, and she offers to take the drink off Snow with a muttered thanks. When her fingers enclose around the cool glass her mind flashes back to the hard, cold surface of the table she was strapped to and her body seizes, mimicking her actions on said table. The glass flies to the floor and smashes, spilling glass and water everywhere.
“Regina!” Snow calls in concern, reaching for her stepmother. Her touch seems to break the mayor out of her stupor, whereby she discovers the mess she’s made.
“Snow, I’m so sorry,” She mutters quietly. She waves her hand automatically to clear up the mess but remembers she can’t and her hand freezes in mid-air, so she can see it’s shaking. She tries to hide it before Snow notices, but it’s too late.
“Regina, are you okay?” She asks and out of courtesy Regina makes an effort not to roll her eyes or snap back at her.
“I’m fine. I think you’d better take the cuff off, dear,” she replies quietly. She sees David in the distance approaching with a dustpan and brush in hand and she holds him back. She made this mess and she intends to clear it.
When the cuff is off the magic fills her in the same manner as the electricity did- and while she is prepared enough to stop herself spasming she can’t help but freeze; her entire body rigid ad tense as she allows herself time to adjust. She hears the Charmings talking to her in- concern laced through their voices- but it takes her a moment to swallow, gather her breath, and respond. She assures them that she’s fine and tests her magic, letting it gather in the palm of her hands and rubbing it over her fingers. She feels unstable about it; she’s worried about how much control she actually has. When the magic in one palm sparks without her meaning to and she draws up her hand with a gasp she decides that it’s not safe for her to heal her real wounds yet, however she allows the magic making its way around her body to ease her aching and pain.
She sat up a little straighter and realised she owed it to the Charmings to clean up the broken glass on the floor. She puts all her energy and focus into bringing the bits of glass scattered around the floorboards and reforming the original, refilling it with the spilled water. When the puff of purple smoke clears the glass is laid, perfect in Snow’s hand and Regina is quite proud of herself, that she managed to pull it together and use this level of magic so early in her recovery.
She tries not to feel too disappointed when the glass turns entirely to liquid in Snow’s hand and she promptly passes out.