A/N: I've wanted to experiment with pitting the Evil Queen against Dark Swan for a while now, so finally came up with an idea stemming from the new season. I don't tend to like writing a storyline closely following the show while it is still airing/ changing, but this is more a starting point to then go off in its own direction regardless of what happens in upcoming episodes. I hope you enjoy this new little journey, and enjoy the first chapter. Reviews would be awesome :)

NB: Rated M for smut and power-play, this story takes on a darker tone to some of my others.

Standing in the shadow of the trees, the Queen watches as her better half- her lesser half- raises her palms and cloaks her vault with a protection spell. To her weaker self's side stands Snow White, and she grits her teeth as her long-ago nemesis places a kind hand on the Mayor's forearm and murmurs to her amiably. Beside Snow stands her Prince, sporting an idiotic expression of concentration, as though merely keeping himself alive is pushing his mental capacity to the limit.

Well, that's always seemed highly likely.

Watching the three figures that crowd the mouth of the old crypt chatter to each other in the dying light of the fall sun, she seethes.

How could it have come to this?

She is unable to hear what they say from her cloak of darkness, but she recognises the universal gesture Snow makes with her hand, and the others follow her towards the road and eventually slip from sight. The fact that her lesser self walks alongside the others- companionably close- fills her with rage, but also instils a great relief to finally be free of that wretched body. To be let loose from that hellish moral prison.

Not to mention, to be rid of that terrible wardrobe.

Scarlet lips pull into a slow smirk; having grown so tired of modest, heavy dress pants and fitted shirts. She supposes certain elements of this new world have rubbed off on her, as she has dressed herself now not in the garish opulence favoured during her reign, but in a darker, sleeker version of her royal attire. Black leather clinging to her slim legs, to match a sinfully low-cut corset beneath her velvet cloak.

Stepping out from the shadows, she stalks towards her vault and extends a hand.

As she'd anticipated, she meets an invisible barrier that extends in a dome about two feet from the crypt's entrance. Curiously, while the breed of magic used is strong in its heritage- blood magic one of the oldest and most revered types used back in her homeland- the potency of the spell lacks the strength she'd been bracing herself for.

Well, it would appear love really is weakness.

Readying herself to vanquish the feeble enchantment, she stills, catching the telling crunch of footsteps through fallen leaves. Slinking swiftly back behind the wall of the crypt, she waits to see who her unwanted visitor might be.

A part of her hopes for Snow.

Snow to have come back, having forgotten something perhaps.

Snow alone. Vulnerable.

She'd even settle for the Prince, she supposes.

Yes.

Even better, in fact.

Even better for it to be Charming walking alone in the sweet promise of nightfall now that she thinks of it. Better Snow's loved one than the bitch herself. Oh, it has been a long time since she was last in a position to cause the lying little wretch some pain, and preying on her heart rather than merely hurting Snow directly seems a perfect way to celebrate her new and intoxicating independence.

Call it a christening if you will. A baptism of blood.

A terrible smirk resurfaces on her lips as she waits for her trespasser to make themselves known.

Because really, that's what it is. Trespassing. No one should have any business here. No one should-

"-Shit."

Comes a bemused growl, and a twig snaps beneath dark boots as her companion stalks into view.

Emma stands with one hand fisted against the peak of her hip and the other gripping her phone. She frowns down at the screen while the wind plays havoc with her curls, and she shakes her head irritably as she looks around before seeming to sigh in confirmation.

Behind her, unseen, dark eyes glitter.

... Even better...

The Queen holds her breath, hardly believing her luck. Since being free and slipping through the shadows of this strange land her lesser self calls home, she's been so preoccupied with the idea of revenge looming so tantalisingly close, that she'd all but forgotten one very important player in her better self's life.

How could I have forgotten the Saviour?

She muses in surprise, but then she supposes her brief lapse of thought makes sense. Regina might have dealt with the impossibly vexing woman on many occasions, but the last time she- The Queen- encountered the prophetic blonde, she'd been an infant. Nothing but a worrying weed to be crushed. An omen.

My, how things change...

Indeed. And she studies the younger woman intently as the latter scuffs at the leaves littering the ground while muttering grumpily

"You could have waited for me at least..."

Raising a well-shaped brow as she contemplates the unthinkable possibility that it might be the Mayor this irritable yet casually accepting grunt is aimed towards, the Queen bites her lip.

How unfortunate that they've left you out here all alone...

Her heart beats faster in her chest as her mind reels with the possibilities of her current situation. She needs to tread with caution, she knows this, as while held captive by her ever more sickening journey to virtue, she's witnessed enough of what the Saviour has to offer to recognise the potential danger Emma may pose.

The blonde is powerful.

Well, so am I...

She smiles, and it is not only the wonderful freedom of seeing the Saviour for what she truly is once again- a problem, a thorn, a nuisance to be snuffed out- but, without the leash of her morals, she is able to allow herself to acknowledge other things that come to mind when pondering the woman.

Things that she'd been vaguely aware of and yet had vehemently denied herself of thinking when they had first met. Her better half- even before being broken and weakened by the heroes- had been proper. Dignified. Cold. All facets of her true self, but held together under the tight binds of her position as Mayor and the strain of her knowledge. She'd lacked the wicked pursuit for fun that flickers dangerously in her heart once again now that she is no longer afflicted by such tiring restraints.

The Saviour is a curious entity now that she's all grown up.

A tempting little game to play before getting down to business.

And really, a wonderful prospect in the grand scheme of her primary goal.

To ruin Snow White.

All in good time.

After all, after thirty long years cooped up inside a shell of her former self, surely it's finally time for the Evil Queen to come out to play.

Smiling wickedly, she steps out into the open; bright, scarlet leaves crunching beneath the heel of her boot.

The blonde turns around, eyes wide in surprise, before a frown creeps uncertainly across her face

"... Regina?"