Slay Me Weaponless

Chapter 1: Prologue

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss
The brave man with a sword.

― The Ballad of Reading Gaol

———————

In the dark, Regina is the hunted.

It is a new sensation, being hunted. She has always been predator before, even when she's faced enemies on her level. Then, it had been big cats prowling around each other, stalking each other through the wild. She has never felt threatened on her own behalf, only for whom she might lose in the process.

This is something new, stumbling through the underbrush in an unfamiliar land, tripping over branches and running for her life. The moon is gone today, to return tomorrow, and nothing illuminates the sky but dimly twinkling stars. The trees around her are tall and ancient, creaking in the night in a language that she cannot speak, and the whisper of the wind feels menacing today.

She is prey, and she knows that she can't escape. She thinks briefly of Henry, who must be safe, who has been spared this deadly chase, and who will be devastated if she doesn't survive. She has to survive for his sake, for the others, for Emma's.

Emma. The emotions that surge through her are disjointed and painful, grief and guilt and determination all at once. Emma is gone , is beyond hope, and Regina has only herself to blame for it. Emma will never be Emma again, the woman who had sat beside her in the Bug. The woman who had raised a dagger to take the darkness for Regina. The woman who had danced with her in a secret corner outside a crowded ballroom, swaying like a willow in the wind.

Emma is gone.

Regina has to focus on staying alive.

She runs swiftly, finds solid ground in a dirt path in the woods, and she can hear the figure behind her, footfalls growing heavier as they get closer. She doesn't know who is chasing her this time. There are so many potential killers out here, and every one of them has a reason to want her dead.

What she does know: her magic is not strong enough to defend her right now. It sputters, comes and goes, and she is helpless against her pursuer like this. She has to gather her magic, to fight against the one who is chasing her, and she struggles against the dampening effects of the forest, strains so hard that she has to slow down and then, against her better judgment, come to a stop.

She holds her hands out, focuses through what feels like a wet blanket around her, and she bores at it with her mind until, at last, she can feel a tiny glint of magic breaking through it. It emerges as tiny as flour through a funnel, narrow and small, and she thinks faster, faster, please –

And then, a blow to her head, strong enough to wipe the magic from her again. She lands on the floor, panting, and stares up at the figure that stands over her. The figure is hooded, and they move with deadly malice. A kick to the side of her head, leaving it spinning. A hand at her neck, yanking her up by the front of her dress and pinning her against a tree.

"Die," the figure hisses, and Regina recognizes the voice.

It's no one she'd expected. "You," she whispers, and she is at once terrified, the panic beginning to overwhelm her. This figure has every reason to kill her. She is going to die here, alone in the woods, without her magic to save her. No one is going to know where she's gone, or even how to find her body. She is going to die, and her murderer will never be discovered.

Her murderer raises their weapon, and Regina stares at their concealed face instead, watches them with tight, hard eyes and refuses to look away. She will not let the last image of her in anyone's eyes to be her cringing with fear or begging for her life. She will face this, and her murderer will never forget the fury in her eyes.

The weapon falls.

And the figure is blown away in an instant.

Someone else appears, throwing the figure back with the only magic that endures in this forest, and Regina is even more terrified than she'd been when she'd been fleeing the figure. The second figure wears a sleek black jumpsuit, a cape of dark feathers set with blood-red petals whirling around her as she falls to a crouch. She reaches into the figure's chest with a careless hand and removes their heart, lifting it to examine the blackened, swirling mass of magical energy. By the time she rises, the heart is gone.

Regina stands, flattened against the trunk of a tree, and she makes a move to flee. The second figure holds up a hand and Regina is frozen, one foot raised in an attempt to escape. "I don't think so," purrs the voice, and one gloved hand moves to stroke Regina's cheek.

Regina meets her eyes. The Dark One doesn't wear a hood to conceal herself. Instead, her hair falls shiny and pale around her, her eyes turned from green to hollow yellow. She looks like a funhouse mirror of the woman she'd once been, the woman who had been Regina's family, who had been–

Emma is gone, consumed by the Dark One, and the Dark One watches Regina with hungry loathing. "You are mine," the Dark One hisses, and she smiles a cold and deadly smile, the threat in her gaze.

When she leans forward, it's to kiss Regina. Regina had never kissed Emma (except that once, though she can't bear to count it), had never allowed herself to contemplate the possibility– and now, Emma's hard lips are on Regina's, are making Regina's tingle, and Regina shudders and craves something that she will never, ever get. "Emma," she whispers, and the Dark One looks thunderous.

"There is no Emma Swan anymore," she breathes against Regina's lips. Regina's head is spinning, her thoughts faint and disjointed, and it takes a long few minutes before she finally understands what the Dark One's kiss had been. Regina has been poisoned, is on the verge of losing all control of her body, and she teeters in place, the magic that had held her gone.

"Emma," she moans again, and the Dark One watches her as she begins to crumple on the ground.

The last thing that she sees is the Dark One's face, pale enough that it's perfectly visible in the dark forest, twisted into an expression of sheer hatred.

She thinks– this is exactly what I deserve – and then she thinks nothing at all.