TRIGGER WARNINGS: Explicit scenes of rape, physical abuse & self-harm. Seriously, this chapter is a series of horrific nightmares.

AN: Italics = dream/flashback

Regina's hands clutched desperately at her 1,000 count Egyptian cotton sheets. Her chest heaved with gasping breaths. The brunette's normally stoic face contorted in pain and fear. A single tear rolled down her cheek. The comforter was crumpled on the floor. Legs became twisted within the blankets while trying to escape the nightmare playing behind closed eyelids.

She was trapped. Pinned beneath the stinking, grunting, pig that was now her husband. Just hours ago she walked what felt like her death march down the royal aisle. The aging King stood waiting for her, stooped slightly under the weight of his years. The weight of his crown sat heavily on his balding head. It was said that King Leopold ruled his kingdom with an iron fist, and it soon became apparent that he planned on ruling his wife with the same violence.

She was waiting for him in the royal bed chamber, wringing her hands uselessly as a servant prepared the bed. A new, clean, white sheet was laid out for her. She was told to lie on the bed and wait for the King. He entered the room carrying with him the smell of ale and stale sweat. His face cracked into a gruesome imitation of a smile. Without ceremony he divested himself of his pants and clambered onto the bed. He roughly shoved her knees apart with and settled between her legs. A second later he thrust into her, sheathing himself entirely. She screamed out in pain, feeling as if she was being split in half by his length. Without giving her time to adjust to his intrusion he began thrusting into her roughly at a punishing pace.

She continued to scream and tried to scratch him in the face. This was met with further violence; the King stopped his thrusting momentarily to backhand her across the face, splitting her lip and bruising her jaw. He immediately began pounding into her again. The only sounds in the royal bed chamber that night were Regina's screams and the King's grunting. He finished abruptly inside of her, groaning and shuddering. He rolled off of her now limp body, and wiped his member of her virginal blood with the sheet.

A servant appeared out of nowhere and removed Regina from the royal bed chamber. She was shown to a small room separate from the King's, it would become her prison. The young Queen did not sleep that night, and as the suns rays began to filter through her solitary window she heard cheering from the courtyard. She limped to the window, curiosity getting the better of her. The blood soaked sheet from her marital bed was being held on display as proof of the royal consummation. Seeing so much of her own blood caused the brunette to double over and vomit up the meager contents of her stomach.

Across town in the small bedroom above her parents, Emma Swan tossed and turned violently. The blankets had already been kicked to the foot of the bed, and the pillows were being batted onto the floor. She was fighting an invisible opponent, scratching and clawing at her own skin unknowingly.

This was her 4th foster home this year alone. She sat on the sagging mattress with a sigh, carelessly throwing the duffel bag containing all of her worldly possessions to the floor. She bent over and began untying her worn tennis shoes. Blond curls obstructed her view of the door, and she wasn't aware that it had opened until a floor board creaked under added weight.

"I'm here to welcome you to our home Emma. I just want to give you some rules. As long as you follow them, we'll get along just fine."

Emma quickly looked up at the intruder. This man looked dead inside. There was no light behind his blue eyes at all. The cruel smirk he wore only added to his nearly demonic presence. "Rule number one, you will call me Daddy. Rule number two, you will do what I ask without question or complaint. Rule number three you will tell no one of what goes on in this house. If you break any of the rules, you won't like the consequences." He sat down next to her on the bed and patted his knee, "Why don't you come and sit on Daddy's lap?"

"Look mister, you're not my daddy and I ain't gonna sit in your lap!" Emma exclaimed leaping off of the bed. Before she could get more than 2 steps his hand had encircled her skinny bicep in an iron grip. He yanked hard, and threw her back onto the bed. "I told you all you had to do was follow the rules… but no, you think you're too good to sit with Daddy. I'll just have to teach you that you're not." He ground out through clenched teeth. Emma cowered on the bed, knees pulled up to her chin.

He unbuckled his belt and drew it through the belt loops agonizingly slowly. With a crack, the belt came down on her legs. She screamed, and not for the last time that night. He hit, and hit and hit. Sweat began to accumulate on his brow as Emma's pale skin became a field of red and purple welts. He dropped the belt to the ground and sat back on the bed. "Now, why don't you come and sit on Daddy's lap like a good girl?" he asked.

Emma crawled over to him, and did as he asked. She sat on his lap, feeling a hard bulge pressed against her rear through his jeans and the thin fabric of her skirt. Terror grimed her heart. His hand slowly crept us her bruised thigh and under her skirt.

Simultaneously, Regina Mills and Emma Swan cried out in their sleep and bolted upright in their respective beds. Their faces were swollen, and streaked with tears and sweat. Blonde and brunette panted hard, trying to breathe through the panic. Almost as one, they got up from bed and made their way to the bathroom.

The blonde squeezed herself into the small shower stall and turned the water on scorching hot. She began scrubbing herself vigorously, trying to finally wash him off, not that she ever could. As her skin turned pink from the heat, she fumbled above her head along the ledge of the stall. Her fingers found what they sought and she pulled down her razor blade from its hiding place. Working quickly and furiously Emma cut her thighs over and over until her hand was cramped painfully around the razor. She let it drop to the floor and tuned around to face the faucet. The water had run cold in the time she took to absolve herself. She shivered under the frigid spray until her legs stopped bleeding and all the evidence had been washed away.

The brunette stepped into her spacious multi-head shower and turned the water on full blast. The water was freezing cold, and she left it that way. She picked up one of the only things she had brought to Storybrooke with her, an antique straight razor. Regina flipped the blade open and pressed it into the flesh of her thigh. She slowly pulled the blade over her skin with enough pressure that it parted like the red sea. Blood poured down her leg, pooling on the floor. She watched as the icy water began to wash it down the drain. She felt like she was bleeding out a little part of her nightmare, cleansing her body of someone else's sin.

AN: I promise all of this graphic suffering is not without cause. The Evil Queen and the Savior have much more in common than anyone knows. As do their mothers...