𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 ♡ ᴏᴜᴀᴛ ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀɴ

ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ | ɪʀᴀᴄᴇʙᴇᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀɪᴍꜱ

"Curtsey, while you're thinking. It saves time."

—♢♡♧♤—

Iracebeth of Crims stood in the middle of the street, the hem of her lavish red gown barely brushing the pavement. The intricate black designs embroidered into the fabric shimmered under the dim Storybrooke light, but the queen paid no attention to such trivial details. A cold breeze whispered through the town, sending a sharp shiver down her spine.

Underland had never known such chill. Not unless one counted the time Apollo brought his twin, Artemis, along for a visit.

"Are you cold?" Sir Tovelane's voice was a smooth murmur, cutting through the quiet.

"Terribly," Iracebeth admitted, pressing closer to him.

The warmth of his presence did little to chase away the frost biting at her skin, but she leaned into him nonetheless. It was a small comfort. Nearby, the Tweedle twins bickered as always, their voices a dull hum of nonsense. Alice had long abandoned them, determined to begin the search for Mirana without delay. Maddix had gone with her, a dreamy expression on his face. Just before they had left Underland, Apollo had dropped by for tea, and upon hearing their plans, the sun god had decided to accompany them—though he had since disappeared into the streets of Storybrooke, off to satisfy his own curiosities.

McTwisp, ever anxious, stood beside Iracebeth, checking his pocket watch with restless fingers. "Much too young," he muttered to himself. "Should've never let Nivens leave with the White Queen. Should've never retired—madness, all of it."

Iracebeth barely registered his ramblings. Her thoughts were consumed with only one concern.

"Where could she be?" The words slipped from her lips, soft and aching, a whisper of worry that betrayed her usual steel.

Tovelane sighed, his arm a steadying force against her back. "I don't know, my love, but if we stay out here much longer, you may freeze before we find out."

"I'll be fine." She shifted closer, stealing more of his warmth. "I'm worried about Mirana, is all."

"Perhaps we should ask the locals for help—"

"I don't need anyone's help," Iracebeth cut him off sharply. "I can find my sister myself."

"Not true," Tovelane murmured, his voice laced with knowing. "You haven't moved since we arrived."

She stiffened, turning slowly to face him. The softness in her gaze vanished, replaced by the icy authority of a queen. Iracebeth was no longer a worried sister—she was the Red Queen. And the Red Queen did not wait for things to come to her.

"Come," she commanded, uncrossing her arms and striding forward. "We will find her before anyone else."

Iracebeth had left Underland before. She had explored many realms—some wondrous, some desolate, some utterly infuriating. But Neverland . . . Neverland had been unbearable.

Chaos ran rampant. Wild children fought and bled and died, yet no one sought order. No one sought change. It was a place of lawlessness and lost time, and she had despised every second she spent there.

And yet, it was the place Mirana had once called home.

A fresh wave of anger simmered beneath her skin, but she forced it down. The Red Queen would not be ruled by her emotions. Not yet.

"That place looks promising," Tovelane noted, his tone deceptively light.

She followed his gaze, narrowing her eyes at a small shop on the side of the road. A simple sign above the door read Gold, though what that meant, Iracebeth hadn't the faintest idea.