Chapter Text
Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the song of angry men
It is the singing of a people
who will not be slaves again.......
The Revolution was over.
The brunette's curls mingled with blood as she sprawled over the man's body, her face buried in his neck. Regina watched as the girl flicked her tongue out, dragging it greedily up the man's neck to catch every drop of blood. Ravenously, she latched her mouth to his neck, gulping his life's essence down her throat. Regina watched, her perfect mouth turned up in a smirk. She was victorious. She had won. This. This was her happily ever after.
He had lost it all. He would at long last, know her pain.
The acrid smell of cannon smoke and gunpowder permeated the air. The scent of blood was strong and compelling as the dead were lined up in an alley to be identified and buried. She had approached the alley first, having allowed the debris and dust to settle after the barricade was blown. Built on the coffin of their leader, it had appeared strong. Wood was no defense against metal, however, and when the ball hit the wall, the barricade had fallen swiftly. The schoolboys with their delusions of grandeur and songs of revolution, had fallen, dying swiftly and brutally.
Regina had walked among the dead, searching for her face. She had walked down their line slowly, stooping to remove a lock of hair, turning a chin towards the meager light. Earnestly she had searched. Looking for the girl. Vengeance could not be carried out if she could not find her. If she were dead. A growl escaped her lips as she reached the end of the line of bodies. Her search fruitless. Standing, she moved away from the dead, stepping aside as two more corpses were carried in.
She paused. Turned.
She waited until they had placed the bodies down, and bent down next to the one closest to her. The boy with the hair the color of the sun. She had picked a golden curl from his cheek, amazed at the beauty of his sculpted face. She had watched him stand before his friends, keeping them emboldened, keeping them strong. He had fought for the cause. For the rights of the people. Had died for the cause. "What a waste," she murmured, trailing a red talon down his smooth cheek, "You would have made a beautiful piece on my arm. The night would have embraced your light." Standing, she turned and walked away, never looking back on the carnage humanity dealt its own children.
She had found the girl choking on her own blood where a shell had lodged in her chest. She was hid in a small closet in the corner of the inn where the revolutionaries had sang, planned, and drank. Regina had lifted her into her arms as easily as a babe, carrying her into the main room of the inn. "Hush, child, you will not die." A gasp escaped the girl's lips as a death rattle in her chest. Her eyes closed, and she willed her body to shut down. If only to escape the pain. Regina shook her back into consciousness, her eyes blazing with fierce deetermination. She put her face to the girl's, meeting her eye to eye, "You. Will. Not. Die." she hissed.
Reaching the main room, she placed her on a table, glad for the darkness of the evening.
"Wh-Who are you?"
Regina looked at the girl, her bitter resentment for her evident in her features. She picked up her wrist bringing it to her mouth.
"Im a friend of your brother's," she breathed, and bit into her vein.