Hi. Welcome to my first Once Upon A Time story.

It steals ideas from multiple sources - so it goes without saying I own nothing except the theme of the story.

I am celebrating my 10 years with my Partner, Cheryl, so this is written for her. It also means that I need to complete it by the 30th July - so nothing like a deadline to motivate! If you fav/follow I hope I can complete by then and not disappoint you all. Wish me luck.

Rated M for later chapters.

For Cheryl - Love Always x

Rumpelstiltskin's words kept repeating themselves in Regina's head, she paced and paced, but she couldn't outrun them. "You know what you love, now go kill it." She knew exactly what he meant, who he meant.

She was so conflicted, her father was all she had left, she wanted her happy ending, her vengeance, her right, but was this cost worth it? It was the ultimate curse, it required the ultimate sacrifice, she understood that now, but she had already lost so much.

To lose the last person who loved her, who she loved, she didn't think she was strong enough. Even her hatred had its limits to what it would drive her to. There had to be another way.

Regina put her head in her hands and yanked her hair out of its elaborate style, pulling at it in frustration and focusing on the pain it caused. With a roar that was full of fury and anger, she concentrated on those emotions as she summoned electrical charge after electrical charge, discharging them from her hands which were now outstretched and unleashing the pain of her fractured and broken soul.

Her favourite chair exploded, wood splinters and upholstered stuffing flying through the room as the broken frame was flung across the room and through her floor length window shattering the glass and sending glittering shards everywhere. The Queen glared at the damage and pushed again with her hand, a vortex of glass rising from the floor and swirling around the window, the remaining glass that was still attached to the window frame was ripped out and joined the swirling. The broken chair then caught fire as it and the glass tornedo Regina had created were thrown by her hand movement. The chair skittered along the stone of the balcony, the sound of wood scrapping against the stone sounding like a tortured scream and then over the balcony it all went, a stream of smoke and broken glass descending from the tower, where Regina's room was.

The sound the chair made mirrored the sound Regina desperately wanted to give voice to. But she bit down on her dark red lips, keeping the scream trapped in her throat, held firm behind her teeth. Clenching her fists she spun away from the window frame.

There was a moment of peace before the large mirror above the bed exploded, then the one at her vanity table, the creams and cleansers held there oozing and bubbling as the sound of smashing glass continued and the containers disintegrated under the power the sorceress was flinging around the room, nothing it touched surviving the wrath she was unleashing.

Finally after many minutes The Queen sunk to her knees, exhausted and surrounded by utter devastation and let the tears fall. Tears she had kept locked away in her heart for so long. Tears for Daniel, for her Mother, for Rocinante, for the villages she had decimated and the hearts she had taken, and finally for herself. Sobs wracked her body, but they were silent. Her mother would never have approved of such loss of control, but if she was going to lose control, it would be silent and solitary. No-one would know of her anguish, it seemed the lessons her mother had instilled in her and taught would always be there. Pain, grief, any emotion, they were weakness and not befitting of a Queen and not to be shown to anyone. So the broken Queen hugged herself and cried until there were no more tears, no more shuddering breaths as she struggled to regulate her breathing.

She eventually lost consciousness and drifted away from her body, not quite asleep but not quite passed out either. It was rather an exhausted state reached by a lifetime of hurt finally allowed to bubble to the surface and leaking out uncontrollably, violently escaping and tearing the Queen's psyche with it.

The Queen lay unconscious on the rug of her chamber, surrounded by the broken pieces of her room, pieces of her life. Her father found her hours later and gently shook her awake.

He had had to push hard against the door as much debris had rained down and impeded his access into the room, clogging under the door and causing a barrier. He had then made his way cautiously over to his fallen daughter, he could see her curled in on herself up against the foot of the bed, looking for all the world like a terrified child might after night terrors. She was in a foetal position, tucked against the bed frame, using it as something solid, a shield, for any protection it might offer. He had checked her for injuries and found none, no blood, no sign of broken bones, nothing to cause him fear, except for the look of exhaustion and pain that was etched into her features.

He had to shake her hard to get any reaction, and even then it was quiet, it was not The Queen who answered him in a whispered and confused, "Daddy?"

He swept the bed clear of the dust and chunks of window frame, mirror and wall that had been flung around the room, so that he could lay Regina down. He then helped her to her feet, she was barely conscious and he took much of her weight and with an arm round her slim waist he guided her the short distance until he could help her slide under the velvet and heavy covers of the bed. He wisely ignored the state of the room and refrained from asking her about it or the obvious worn out state she herself was in. The tear tracks stained down her face running through the dust coating there told him all he needed to know. He just helped her lay down and get comfortable, tucking the bedding round her small frame and pressing a kiss to her temple and whispering to her,

"Sleep my little one, I love you. Tomorrow is a new day and will be better."

He was trying to give her as much comfort as he could, because the way she had called out to him, reminded him of the little girl he thought had been lost long ago. It was the girl who he had let down, failed to protect, and he was certain this time he wouldn't fail. He tucked her into bed like the precious gift she was.

She woke a little at the softness of his voice and his lips against her fevered forehead and pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the heart beat underneath his skin. If she was going to do it, now was the perfect opportunity, and yet she sunk back into the pillows, her hand fisted round air and clutched to her own chest, anchored tight so she would not be tempted. She flexed her fingers finding the edge of the cover, grasping the velvet material rather than the beating organ in her father's chest,

"Good night Father, I love you too" she breathed through her dry and chapped lips.

Her head ached, her muscles were crying out to rest, her mouth was dry, her throat hurt and her eyes burned from the tears she had shed, yet she promised herself before sleep claimed her again, I will find another way.