Part I

The Enchanted Forest

Regina paced fervently, unsure of what to do next. She had procured all the ingredients she needed – including the heart of the thing she loved most – and yet…

Rumplestiltskin's prophecy played over and over in her mind. There was a Savior that could break her curse; the fucking child of Snow White and Prince Charming. She held the promise of a happy life for herself in her hands, and still it could all be ripped away from her. She didn't know how or when, she only knew who. Of course her undoing would come at the hands of Snow White's spawn.

"There can't be a Savior without a curse", she reasoned with herself. Surely, there would be another way to get her revenge. Snow White's daughter would just end up another insipid, spoiled little princess, and Regina would find her revenge some other way. It was the only solution.

She grinned wickedly to herself. How stupid was that little imp? Had he said nothing, Regina would have happily cast the curse, completely oblivious to this Savior nonsense. Surely that was what he wanted, after all.

Of course, she knew she couldn't physically harm Snow White and Prince Charming in this land, but that didn't mean she couldn't take away their happiness. After all, what better victory could be had than an eye for an eye? A child for a murdered lover? And Rumple happily rotting away in his cell for all eternity, unable to protect the little bundle of joy.

And so, she hid the curse and the ingredients away for safekeeping - just in case - and set about devising a new plan. Let the Charmings get attached to their little brat, while the threat of the Dark Curse still loomed in the back of their minds, and when the time was right, rip her away. Kill her. Let Snow feel what that feels like. Sure, the little bitch had lost a father, but so had Regina, and she knew that wasn't enough suffering; not even close.

Once the child was dead, Regina was sure she wouldn't want to cast the curse anymore. Why would she want to remove Snow's suffering by giving her false memories? What could possibly be worse than remembering the brutal death of her first born? She regretted that her father had had to die in vain, but then, there were always sacrifices to be made, and even he had known that.

So now, all Regina had to do was wait. She was no longer the Queen in the eyes of the peasants, but she was still a powerful sorceress, and no one was going to dare attempt to remove her from the Dark Palace. She was safe here, with her heartless dark knights and her heartless huntsman by her side.

As the days and weeks and months passed, chatter of the impending curse amongst the fairies and the woodland creatures died down, until it stopped completely. Many in the Kingdom started to believe that Regina had been unable to pull it off, and she found that she didn't really care, and was quite content to let them continue thinking that way. It made no difference to her anymore; not when she had a new task to focus her energy on.

She spent her days watching through the mirror. She watched as Snow White birthed the wretched little creature. She watched her face – elated – as she held her vile cherub in her arms, the magical wardrobe left untouched in the corner of the room. It lay in wait of the announcement that the curse was coming, but the curse never came, and each day that passed, Snow White seemed more and more confident that it would never come.

And that was alright.

The Kingdom fawned over its newest princess. Emma. That's what they'd called her. What a despicably common name, unfit for a princess. Regina supposed that was appropriate, since it was highly unlikely that Princess Emma would even make it to her own coronation. Regina didn't intend to let her live that long.

Months turned into years, and Regina continued to watch. She studied Emma, getting to know her prey thoroughly. She had made mistakes with Snow, and she didn't intend to do the same this time. She wasn't afraid anymore. She wasn't weak. And the people knew.

She hadn't left the palace grounds in nearly three years, and yet, the people still feared her - perhaps even more now that she'd become so quiet and secluded. Snow White and her Prince Charming had large walls enacted around their palace courtyards, after they had tried in vain to convince Rumplestiltskin to create a potion to protect their daughter from the former Queen, just as they were protected. As far as Regina knew, the imp had gone stark raving mad – more so than he already had been – when she didn't cast the curse. Magic or not, he was no use to anyone now, and she liked him best that way.

So the walls were enacted, and Emma was forbidden to pass them, under any circumstances. The palace grounds were heavily guarded, but that didn't stop Regina from keeping her own knights out in the land, in constant surveillance, just out of sight of Snow White's lookouts. They were to report to her with any change, any weakness, any way to get into the palace and steal the princess away.

Years had passed, and they weren't any closer, but Regina had learned patience in her time of waiting. The longer it took, the more attached Snow White would become to her little treasure, and the more it would hurt when Regina finally tore her away. It would destroy her.

Regina watched as little Emma learned to walk and learned to talk. She watched at night when the tiny monstrosity would suckle at her mother's teat; for far too long, in Regina's opinion. Snow was coddling the girl, and if Regina had still been her mother, she would slap the Snow silly, and slap the little brat too, for good measure.

Little Emma learned etiquette and had tutors and excelled in her lessons – smart as a whip, she was, and Regina wondered where on earth she got that from, since it certainly didn't come from anyone she had met in Emma's bloodline. Regina noted, however, that Emma never learned to ride. She found that odd, given Snow's own propensity toward riding. She would have thought she'd have the girl up on a horse the moment she took her first step, but by the time Emma was ten, Regina had yet to see her near a horse.

Emma turned ten around the same time that Regina began projecting herself into the mirror in the child's bedroom while she slept. At first, they were brief appearances, and as time went on and she was sure that Emma believed she was dreaming each time she woke up and saw her face, Regina began to speak to her. It was sweet nothings at first, telling Emma she was sweet and beautiful and to go back to sleep, my darling. Later it was suggestions, promising Emma that freedom lurked beyond the palace walls, insisting that her parents had no right to keep her prisoner in the palace, urging her to break free and run to her waiting Queen.

By the time Emma was eleven, she had regressed back to sleeping in her parents' bed in an attempt to ward off what Snow thought were chronic nightmares that the Evil Queen was coming to steal her away.

Where do you see her? Snow had asked.

In my mirror, Mama.

The child had dove right into her mother's waiting arms at that point, and so she hadn't seen the colour drain from Snow's face. But Regina had. And Regina wasn't concerned. Instead, she was glad that Snow knew she was still lurking. She wanted Snow to know she had Emma in her sights. She wanted her to fret, day in and day out, wondering when and how Regina would make her move.

Eleven years, and that one look from Snow had made it all worth it.

Eleven years had passed, and Regina still looked as she did the day she threatened the curse at Snow White's wedding. Her magic preserved her eternally in her youth and beauty, as Snow continued to age. It pained Regina to admit that though Snow had aged, her beauty had not faded, but one day it would wither away. The pain of the loss of her child would surely do that to her.

Regina waited until the night before Emma's twelfth birthday to appear in her mirror again. Emma had only returned to sleeping in her own bed chambers at night a few weeks before, but she still wasn't sleeping well. She was still awake when Regina appeared.

The child sat up in her bed straight away, and Regina prepared to disappear the moment the shrill scream left her mouth, but the scream never came. Emma just sat and stared, her green eyes wide in fright, but her voice silent.

"Hello, my darling," Regina cooed through the mirror, as sweetly as her voice would allow her. Her hair was down and soft around her shoulders, and she was in a less than threatening silver-grey dressing gown. She thought she looked practically civil.

Emma didn't speak at first, but got up and walked to the mirror, regarding Regina with a new-found wonder, rather than fear. "You're not real," Emma said, finally. "You're just a dream."

"Are you sleeping, my dear?" Regina asked, her mouth curling up in a challenging smirk.

"I must be, or else you wouldn't be here," Emma reasoned, as she sat down on the bench in front of her vanity, her head cocked to the side, her eyes never breaking contact with Regina's.

"Ah, yes, very logical. You're a smart girl." Regina nodded in approval.

Emma actually beamed at the compliment. Regina hadn't expected that. The girl was so close that Regina could just reach through that damn mirror and grab her. She had never gotten this close before. She had never left her bed before. She had never spoken to Regina before.

Yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. It didn't feel right. The timing was wrong, she hadn't planned for this. She wasn't prepared.

But she could do it. She could grab Emma by her silky blonde hair and pull her straight through, out of her bedroom and into the dark palace, and onward to her execution.

It was then that Regina noticed Emma's inquisitive finger, tracing her outline on the smooth surface of the glass that separated them, as if the child were completely mesmerized by her. Perhaps, she was. Perhaps she was curious about the woman whose visage had graced her mirror and her dreams for nearly two years: the Evil Queen who lulled her to sleep with empty platitudes that the girl could not detect the malice in.

Perhaps she was not as intelligent as Regina had once believed. She was the daughter of Snow White, after all.

Regina lifted a finger tentatively to her own mirror, and tapped it against Emma's. She wondered if the girl could feel the reverberation on her side. The almost imperceivable shudder Regina witnessed told her she could. "Off to bed, Little One. You have a birthday tomorrow," Regina reminded her.

Emma smiled thinly. "Now I know for sure you're a dream, because how else could you have known my birthday?"

Regina returned the smile in kind, and slowly let her image vanish from Emma's mirror, though she kept on watching the child. Emma stared at her own reflection for a few moments, her hand still on the glass, before yawning and returning to her bed. Regina watched her climb under the blankets and close her eyes.

Her lips turned down into a scowl once the girl was asleep, and Regina truly realized the opportunity she had just let slip through her fingers. She could have had Emma's head on a platter, ready to present it to Snow at her daughter's birthday party, but instead, the girl was sleeping, peacefully, out of Regina's reach.

Her jaw clenched in fury as the mirror smashed in front of her – a magical offshoot and another broken mirror to add to the collection she had started since Emma was born. So many mirrors had met untimely ends at pivotal points in the young princess's life; what was one more?

Regina stormed through the palace, and into one of the rooms where a few of her knights were eating, on another apparent break from duty. She thought she was gracious to allow them breaks at all,considering their apparent ineptitude for the task she had given them.

"Why haven't you brought me the girl yet?" Regina demanded, her fury completely unbridled now.

"Your Majesty," one knight said, as all three stood and bowed. It didn't matter that she hadn't been the Queen in well over a decade, she had their hearts and they continued to address her as she deemed appropriate.

"I asked you a question!" Regina pressed, vehemently.

"We've done everything you've asked, your Majesty," the knight insisted.

"I asked you to bring me the princess!" Regina didn't wait for a response, as she snapped the knight's neck with a simple flick of her wrist. "I trust there will be no more confusion as to what I expect from you?" she asked, before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

She stomped back towards her bedchamber. Stomping was unbecoming of a Queen, but she wasn't a Queen anymore, and she certainly wasn't above having a temper tantrum when the mood struck her. She picked up a vase off of her own vanity, and smashed it against the wall across from her, berating herself for her stupidity in not grabbing Emma when she had the chance.

Who knew when, if ever, Emma would come that close again?

Regina sat down, and waved her hand to bring Emma's bedroom back into view through the mirror on her vanity. The princess still slept, peacefully. She hadn't run off to her mother over a nightmare. Perhaps all was not lost.

Perhaps Emma's newfound boldness and keen interest in the woman in the mirror would be the child's downfall. Maybe Regina didn't have to steal her away. Maybe she could force Emma to come to the palace, of her own accord. Or, at least, convince the child to reveal enough secrets of the palace that Regina could find the way in.

Impulsiveness had always ruined her, she recalled. She needed to remember to practice her patience. Emma was still a child, after all. There was still time.

Regina watched Emma's birthday party through the mirror, just as she had done every year since Emma was born. Emma's birthday was bittersweet to her. It was the anniversary of the day she didn't cast her curse. It was a reminder that her father had perished for nothing. But it was also the promise of a way to hurt Snow, finally and fully; the key to Snow White's ultimate destruction.

And Emma's parents fawned over her. She was dressed in blue, a gown of silk and beads. Her hair was smooth and shone like gold – nothing like her mother's unruly dark locks. No, Regina was sure Emma's beauty would outshine her mother's, if she were allowed to live that long.

Emma smiled along with her parents and they introduced her to the nobility of the Kingdom, and visiting princes and princesses from other Kingdoms. As much as the walls kept Emma in, they also kept visitors out, for the most part. Emma watched as Snow and Charming surveyed the princes, and it occurred to her that they were likely preparing to arrange a marriage for their little angel.

Regina had to wonder what the going rate was for a bride that was as good as dead if she ever dared to step beyond the palace walls.

That evening, when the festivities finally dwindled, Emma sat in her room, at her vanity, brushing out her long blonde locks, as Regina made her presence known in the mirror.

"Happy birthday, Little One," Regina said, as she sat at her own vanity, brushing her own hair in a way that nearly mirrored Emma's movements.

Emma blinked once, but didn't look afraid. "I'm awake… so you're not a dream. You must be my imagination."

"I must be," Regina agreed.

"You must be, and that's why no one else can see you."

"Clever girl, just like I said," Regina smiled. "And the belle of the ball tonight, I must say. No one shone like you, my darling."

Emma blushed at the compliment. "If you were real, I would have invited you."

"If I were real, I would have come."

Emma turned as she heard her mother calling her name from down the hall. When she turned back to the mirror, Regina had vanished.

From her vanity, Regina watched Emma trace her outline as best she remembered it on the mirror's glass, until Snow finally entered the room.

"There you are!" Snow said, sighing almost as if relief.

Emma didn't turn, but instead looked at her mother's reflection in the mirror, and smiled. If Regina didn't know any better, she would swear those green eyes were piercing right into her own, and that smile was all for her.

"I was waiting for you, Mama," Emma said, holding the hairbrush out for Snow to take. As Snow sat with her daughter, and continued brushing her long locks, Regina couldn't help but wonder what that hair would feel like running between her fingers, or how Emma's porcelain skin would feel under her touch.

She waved the image away quickly. What was she thinking? Emma was not to be cherished, she was to be vanquished.

And Regina was determined to make it happen.

This time, she would not fail.