Chasing Happiness

1- A Deal

The room is cold and dark, the only light is the fire that flickers from the wicks of vanilla scented candles, and moonlight that peaks from her poorly shut curtains. Regina sits upon her bed, on top of the velvety sheets, a dusted book upon her lap. She flips through the rough and tattered pages, in search of one thing and one thing only. It's the only way to stop the pain. She's lost her son, the only person that she cares about, the only person that she loves so completely. And he loves her back.

Not anymore, he doesn't know who she is. Not only that, but he is in a whole other world. With his real mother. She still holds a bundle of hate deep inside for that Emma Swan. She convinced herself to tolerate her, for the sake of her son. Henry loves Emma and wants her in his life. It is unfair. Henry is hers, was hers, not Emma's. She had been the one to care for him all those years before she was here. Heck, Emma wouldn't even be here right now if Henry hadn't brought her to Storybrooke. She wouldn't have taken Henry away from her.

That didn't matter right now. All that mattered was finding the page in this book, the third book she's went through now, that explains the sleeping curse. Yes, she's used it before, but it's been a while and she doesn't completely remember how to conjure it together. Better safe than sorry. She's using it on herself, doesn't want to mess things up, cause herself more pain than she already feels. One more flip of the page and she's found it, brown eyes skimming over the dirtied paper. She usually kept her books clean and crisp, but because of the dark curse, most were either destroyed or like this one; tattered with a busted binding.

It takes her minutes to create this curse, old habits of potion making and spell casting surfacing, and she finds herself quite proud when she drips three drops of the last ingredient, activating the curse with a bright, purple glow. She picks up the needle, long with a sharp pointed end, and dips it into the potion, swirling it around a few times to make sure one prick of her finger will do the trick. She pulls it out of the clear bottle, the one she'd used to make the curse in, and takes a breath. She's still human, she still has to prepare herself for what's to come. She's never been one to harm herself in such a way, doesn't know how it feels to be cursed. She lifts a finger, moving it towards the needle and she knows she should just do it quickly and get it over with, but she hesitates. Moving her finger agonizing slow toward the tip of the needle, seeing it glisten in the moonlight that peaks through the small parting of her closed curtains.

There's a knock at the door that makes her jump, followed by a voice asking, "Milady, may I speak with you a moment?" She knows that voice, and of course it's him, who else would be interrupting her at such an hour. Although, it's nearly midnight, she could say nothing and maybe he would think she's asleep.

"Regina?" The knock follows his voice again. How dare he call her that, for all the times she's corrected that thief you'd think he would finally get it through his head. It's Your Majesty. "I know you're awake and I need to speak with you." He sounded angry, but when wasn't he angry with her. She liked him angry and riled up, most of the time it was because of her. She had just as much anger towards him as well, every one of her sassy remarks were shut down by one of his own. It bugged her, made her fists clench and hate flame within her, she's never really had anyone willing to challenge her.

Regina hears the rattling of the door handle and she wonders what he's up to. Her door is locked and there's no way he's-- the door swings open. "What do you think you're doing?" She all but yells at him, slamming the needle down on her vanity. He raises an eyebrow at her, loving the way his simple presence was enough to annoy her, then strolls over to her with his hands behind his back.

"Well, as I said before, I need to speak with you and since you wouldn't open the door, my only solution was to pick the lock." He explains in that smug way, radiating arrogance as he walks around her room.