The Author

Trinkets and Other Curious Things

...One year ago...

"Mom, what's wrong? You haven't said anything since you got here," said Henry to Regina in the back work room area of the Pawnshop. From the ladder he was perched from, he could see from over his mother's shoulder a black and white candle being held in her hands.

"Nothing, it's just," she said as she placed the item back on the shelf in front of her, "going through your grandfather's things always stirs up cruel memories. I should get going anyways. Call me if you need anything." She didn't want Henry to see the hurt on her face as she made her way to leave the shop.

"Aren't you coming to Neal's birthday party?" Henry asked as he lifted a box up off from on top of a filing cabinet. The question stopped Regina from exiting the shop. Without looking up at him she answered somberly, "I can't unfortunately. I'm... going to head to our family tomb."

"Why?" he asked curiously as he descended the ladder, setting the box down that was in his hands on the nearest work table. She turned around and faced her son bravely as she replied slowly, "I'm not expecting you to understand but seven years ago today... my mother died."

"Cora... oh," said Henry sadly, "I'm... I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. This time each year Neal's birthday always overshadows my mother's death, and understandably so. My mother, Cora, wasn't exactly a good person when she was alive. But... she loved me and I loved her. She was killed by Mary-Margaret using that candle," she said pointing to the black and white candle she had placed on the shelf, "under the suggestion of Mr. Gold. So as you can see, it doesn't exactly make for a great conversation starter at a party meant to celebrate their son."

"I suppose that would explain why you've never come to any of Neal's birthday parties." Henry thought for a moment as they paused to reflect on the incident from their past. He asked, "You said that she wasn't exactly a good person. What did you mean by that? What was good about her?"

Regina replied, "My mother was very ambitious, fiercely intelligent and extremely powerful. I would even go far as to say that she gave Mr. Gold a run for his money, and that's saying a lot because your grandfather was rarely impressed by anyone. But my mother... she had her faults and her complete lust for power warped her ambitions. I suppose that it didn't help that for the majority of her life she had lived without a heart. She was unable to feel anything, not even love. And love, as we all know, is the most powerful magic out there. It was why she never understood it. So she was never satiated and in the end it got her killed."

"Do you think, if given enough time, that she could have been turned towards good?"

Regina scoffed, "My mother? Turned towards good? My mother was the most stubborn person I've ever met and also the most heartless. She abandoned her first child, your Aunt Zelena. She killed my Daniel..." Regina sighed. She didn't want to reflect sadness or anger about her mother to her son. Regina wanted to reflect upon herself, the person she once was; looking back at her mother as the person she could have been, and appreciate the good changes that made her a better and happier person. Realizing her derailment of thoughts, she shook her head and answered Henry's question. "I would like to think that if my mother had her heart she could have been rehabilitated, but she's gone now so we'll never know."

"If I had all that power... I'd want to direct it towards good. I really did mean what I said at the Town Hall meeting that day. I'd fight for everybody's happy endings."

Regina got close to Henry and sweetly caressed his face. "I know you would, honey. You're intentions are sweet as they are noble. But Henry, us villains..."

"You're not a villain, Mom," claimed Henry, cutting off his mother's negative insinuation about herself.

"But I once was," corrected Regina, "and the thing about us villains, like my mother, is that we all think that what we're doing is the right thing. You see, evil isn't born, it's created. In no way am I trying to justify what I did in my past, but I was hurt. And that hurt, if left unchecked, can turn into something monstrous changing you and your perspective on the world from the inside out. Often times than not we feed our own inner demons the wrong medicine, thinking that vengeance is the cure. It isn't. The trick is recognizing the monster within before it swallows all that is good and you forget who you are.