Mother Dearest

Chapter 2

Emma was everything Regina hoped for.

She was clever, so very clever. Regina could hand her a book and say, "Learn."; Emma would take the book in her little hands, a slight frown etched on her face as she slowly flipped through the pages. A week later, she would come up to Regina with her hands behind her back, and give her a full report.

She was strong. Most little girls would cry when they found their first wounded baby bird and nursed it back to health, only to have it die a few days later; Emma did not. Instead of grieving, she studied the bird as it died, tilting her head thoughtfully as it feebly flapped its wings. When Regina asked her why, she simply said, "It has to die someday, doesn't it?"

Most of all, she was powerful. Magic had never been so strong in a child, Regina thought in wonderment as she watched Emma craft a perfect fireball between her fingers. It was as though power flowed through her veins, rather than blood. And Emma relished it, Regina could tell. The girl's eyes would light up, a breathless smile on her face, fascinated by her own cleverness. She liked the feeling of strength, of power, of dominance.

But for all that Regina saw of herself in Emma, there were times when she swore that Snow was looking up at her, blinking through curious green eyes. Perhaps it was the way she seemed to endear herself to everyone: the palace guards, otherwise cold and solemn men, would twitch a smile when the little girl pattered barefooted around the castle; the maidservants would tuck her hair behind her ear and tell her what a pretty little girl she was; even the Huntsman's dark gaze would soften when he caught the mischievous glint in her smile.

Perhaps it was her strange flashes of compassion: Regina sometimes caught it out of the corner of her eye. When she took Emma to the dungeons to show her the proper way to deal with those who questioned authority, Emma would avert her eyes and mumble something about, "Yes, Mother, I understand." Regina could see it in her face that she was afraid to admit it to Regina, that was she was afraid to disappoint her, but the grueling punishments turned her stomach.

"It's all right," Regina would tell her, stroking her hair. "Children have weaker souls; you're still far too innocent to the ways of the world to truly understand, but this is necessary."

"Yes, Mother."

As she grew older, Emma grew wiser. She listened to Regina's words, taking them in carefully and dedicating them to memory. She understood that Regina knew better than herself, a naiive young woman. She tried to strengthen her resolve, to force herself to be the blank stone wall Regina had taught her to be: blank stone walls were never hurt, never threatened, never challenged. She still struggled which rather worried Regina: after eighteen years, she'd've hoped Emma would have learned to immunize herself to others' pain, others' weaknesses. "There are two kinds of people in this world," she told her. "Wolves and sheep. People who kill and people who get killed. Choose carefully, Emma."

"I know, Mother."

But in everything else, Emma excelled—particularly her magic. The potential Regina had seen in her as a little girl only grew stronger. She could conjure a fireball faster than you could blink, and her excitement turned to a feverish exhilaration. She loved magic and her power more than anything, and for a brief moment, there wasn't so much as a glimmer of Snow in her.

As far as Emma knew, Queen Snow and King David were sworn enemies of Regina, because of their prejudice against magic and all those with it. They banished Regina because they were afraid of her; and they would have done the same to Emma, had Regina not swept herself and her daughter away from them. If people like Emma and Regina were ever to feel truly safe in the world, they needed to be destroyed—them and all their followers.

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"A heart." Regina held up the glowing red heart she had just ripped from the horse's chest, turning it slowly so Emma could study it. "It takes a great deal of skill to do it properly, but when you rip out a heart, you can control it."

"And he'll obey—just like that?" Emma's eyes darted to the horse and back, as if she had to remind herself the heart was the more important of the two.

"He has no choice," Regina said coolly. "It takes strength and courage to be able to hold that kind of power over another creature; and I have faith that yours will be enough. You simply need to practice."

Abruptly, she shoved the heart back into the horse's chest, ignoring its cry of pain as it reared back on its hind legs. Emma winced, but quickly schooled her features into a mask of indifference. Regina stepped back, brushing her hands together, and turned to Emma with a smile.

"Your turn."

Emma looked to her, her own heart thudding in the hollow of her throat. "I don't know if I can do it," she said.

"Nonsense," Regina said briskly, eyeing the horse with an appraising eye. "Your magic is more powerful than mine was when I first learned. You can do this."

Emma inhaled deeply, nodding. "Okay," she said, and stepped tentatively toward the horse, reaching her hand out. The horse tossed its head, whinnying nervously. Emma drew in a breath and took another step forward, her hand starting to tremble.

"Emma," Regina said warningly.

"Just—give me a second," she said, clenching her teeth. You can do this, Emma. You can do this. The horse backed away nervously.

"Show your authority," Regina urged. "Don't give him a chance to fight back. Just do it." "I'm trying."

"No, you're not trying!" Regina snapped.

"It's innocent!" Emma dropped her hand, turning to her with desperate eyes. "I understand punishing those who've wronged you, but I can't do this to a defenseless creature. He's done nothing."

Regina pursed her lips. "We'll try again tomorrow," she said finally. "Perhaps by then—"

"Your Majesty!" A Black Knight galloped toward them frantically, followed by three others. Regina whirled around, glaring.

"You better have a good reason for interrupting," she spat, raising her chin as he came to a halt in front of her. "What is it, what do you want?"

"Apologies, my Queen," he said, climbing down from his horse and dropping to one knee. "But we've had an attack on of our ships."

Regina walked forward slowly, her hands on her hips. "Go on," she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "What was the damage?"

"Not much," he said. "We've captured a few of the men who were on the enemy ship, and from what we can tell, they were pirates masquerading as naval officers out of King Midas's court."

"What of the leader?" Regina frowned. "Do you have the man who perpetrated the attack, or am I going to have to have your head grace my lovely wall, Brethers?"

He gulped nervously, his voice quaking. "I am happy to report that we have him in our custody. He's being taken to the dungeons as we speak."

Regina twitched a smile, a cold spark in her eyes as she turned to Emma. "Well, there you are, my dear. Someone who's wronged us, who needs to be punished. Hardly innocent in the slightest."

Emma braced herself, taking in a deep breath. Regina's eyes gleamed at her, the smile twisting further on her face.

"I want to see you rip out a heart."