Prologue

The doors were thrown open before two guards tumbled inside the room. Mildly surprised, Darken Rahl, Lord over the D'Haran Land, looked up from his unconscious guards to see Queen Regina from the Enchanted Forest, standing in the doorway. Running his eyes over the leather pants, up to the black floor-length duster, and finally to her face, where her long dark hair, was restrained from her face, he met her dark eyes.

"Regina," he sighed, "knocking would have just as easily sufficed. You know you are always welcome here, there's no need to knock out my guards."

"Where's the fun in that?" she asked with a smirk. Darken Rahl returned the smile briefly before nodding at his personal guards on either side, the Mord-Sith, to stand down.

Each one of the guards, all of whom were women, were dressed in skintight leather that covered from their neck, to their feet. The women - because it was only ever the women - were instilled from around the age of ten years, with the ability to withstand even the most cruelest of torture.

Regina found them fascinated, the fact that they were always connected to the pain that's held within their leather rods (their weapons) called agiels, was something inspiring to her. However, their ability to take any magic used in their prescience and twist it completely into their control was enough to waver some fear within her. It was one of the many reason she had kept her alliance with Lord Rahl, healthy.

Running her eyes over the women, Regina grinned almost cruelly. "Cara's been so helpful," she teased. A twitch appeared at Darken's fingers before he curled them loosely into his hand and clasped them behind his back. "As has Dahlia, Garen...and the others."

"I imagine so," he said curtly. Regina's smile widened as the two Mord-Sith on either side began to reach for their weapons.

"She was your favorite, wasn't she? Cara that is."

"One of them." Nodding, Regina stepped forward, her heels echoing on the marble floor. "Regina, as much as I'm sure you love to tease me - as I you - but we both know that you didn't travel for days in your carriage to taunt me with the Mord-Sith you've taken."

"You gave them to me," she deflected.

"I meant for you to take Dahlia and those under her," he counted, "but it's in the past and for you to carry on with this means that something has deeply upset you." The mask on Regina's face slid enough for Darken Rahl to grin mockingly at her. Turning he gestured for the Mord-Sith to leave them before he lead Regina out into the hallway and down to a more secluded room for them to talk in peace.

He already knew what she wanted and for him to weave the plan to his liking, he needed them both to be away from prying ears.

Regina's steps echoed behind him, but they were more relaxed without an audience. The two of them always began with theatrics. They enjoyed taunting and teasing each other in the beginning, but they also had a mutual understanding of each other. Both had been raised by parents that never nurtured nor truly cared for them, and both strived to prove themselves to the world.

In the private room, Regina sank down in the large, open chair by the fire and stared up at Rahl with more emotions that she'd ever allow present around anyone else. He glanced at her briefly before turning to the fireplace and watching the flames dance. Patiently he waited for her to begin, knowing that prompting her would only make her defensive, and that did not serve him well.

Moments passed in silence before Regina rose her head. "I need your help," she admitted.

"May I ask why?"

"I need a dark curse, one that will give me…"

"Your happy ending," he finished for her, turning to look her in the eye. Regina didn't reply but the answer was written over her face. Darken nodded and turned back to the fire. His red robes glowed in the light and Regina quietly admired the way his long hair fell over his face, cutting over his blue eyes in a stark contrast.

Their relationship was one of convenience, but both admired and respected each other enough to be as close to friends as the two of them could be.

"Will you help me?" she asked, managing to sound bored instead of anxious. Though he could see her desperation for him to help, her sounding as though anxious to him, would lose his respect.

"I will always be here to help you Regina," he told her, sounding more honest that she'd expected, "but a curse this dark is dangerous."

"I don't care," she all but growled, letting her emotions then get the better of her. She was tired of people telling her what she already knew, tired of their eyes focusing on her in judgement. Looking up, she glared at him. "I want what by right, should be mine."

"Passion rules reason, for better or for worse, Regina," he told her curtly. Regina scowled and rose from the chair. Turning his head, Darken quietly stared at her, almost daring for her to raise her hand and strike him, magically or otherwise. Instead, she clenched her hand by her side and rose her head high.

"I didn't come here to be insulted and reminded of your land's wizard rules," she said, mocking the words. "I came for help because I thought you would be more civil."

"I don't need to be civil, least of all with you, Regina. I know you too well for that." Her eyes narrowed threateningly at him as he turned his back on her, "however, I have agreed to help you, and help you I will. You and I have a long standing history. Try as we might, it'd be better if I were to help you now than watch you go to Rumpelstiltskin and ask for his help. His dealings seem to have a...more chaotic result. I have a far better solution."

Regina carefully considered what he was saying, before slowly asking, "then what do you want?"

"What your after isn't a curse Regina."

"Then do tell me what I'm after, because obviously I don't know," she snapped as her patience wore thin.

He chuckled then, facing her completely as he stepped forward. "Tell me, what do you know of the Boxes of Orden?"