Chapter Text
The last thing Regina saw was a twister, gargantuan and emerald green… as it swallowed her, she watched in horror as Storybrooke, Maine and all those she knew were ripped out of view. Or rather, she was ripped out of view. The vortex spun violently around her, whipping her hair around her face and she watched as various realms flashed before her very eyes, some familiar… other different… and others so obscure that she could only see the dark abyss bordering the emerald smoke. She fought with her magic, trying to organize her emotions enough to bring the twister to a halt, to no avail. Finally, after what felt like a torturous several hours, she felt the wind around her begin to slow and she knew she would finally be free of the vortex.
When it completely stopped, she tumbled to the ground rather gracelessly, which was rare for the former queen who was often more poised than most. She had landed in the middle of a dark alley and, as she looked around, she found she was in completely unfamiliar environment. She recognised the style of architecture as earth...the same place Storybrooke had been, but this was a far cry from Storybrooke or even Boston. The buildings seemed to be older and the style of architecture more historic… With a heave, she pushed herself up to a standing position, steadying herself. When she looked down at herself, she realised that in these clothes she had no hope of blending in. "Shit..." she muttered angrily, moving towards the end of the alley as she attempted to get an idea of where she was… and when. Glancing side to side she recognised a sign that stated an address, the city: London.
She also caught a glimpse of a few people in the distance and recognized clothing that, to her, was reminiscent of Storybrooke… though she knew that the Dark Curse itself had brought them to 1983 Storybrooke, meaning that this could very well be the 1980s or 1990s in this version of Earth… She knew that while realms existed in parallel, their timelines didn’t always match up and she would need to find a newspaper or something similar to identify what year it was in this world. With a sigh, she moved back into the shadows that the alley provided and raised a hand… hoping and praying that it would work. To her delight a fireball appeared, strong as ever.
There was magic in this realm, relief flooded her… she would certainly have more luck surviving this place and, perhaps, finding a way back since magic existed here. She promptly doused the flame before waving her arms to transform her outfit… As she was enveloped in a cloud of violet smoke, she began to form a plan... First, she needed to identify what timeline she currently existed in… as well as what realm this truly was. To do that, she needed a place to stay, a safe place. When she emerged from the smoke, she wore black jeans with a matching black leather jacket. Beneath the jacket a red shirt, the same shade as her lips and heels. Her hair hung in loose curls down her back, remaining about waist-long. Looking down at the outfit she nodded approvingly, hoping that she would blend more easily now than she would’ve had she remained in an outfit fit for the Evil Queen…
With a steadying breath, she stepped back out into the street and made her way along, her heels clicking along the pavement of the sidewalks as she went. Ahead there was a tavern that offered a bed and breakfast, an inn. The name that hung above the door upon an aged sign: The Leaky Cauldron. She hesitated briefly, before walking inside. She was relieved to find that the pub was still open and so, she decided to approach the bartender. "Hi there, I'd like a room," she said gently, but her voice held no emotion. He offered a kind smile, his aged face held a warm look, "Of course, miss. Do you have any bags? There's a vacancy just up the stairs," he replied in a thick accent.
She turned, her eyes quickly finding the stairs and she nodded. "No bags, I was hoping to do some shopping tomorrow..." she said vaguely, her gaze tearing away from the stairs to land upon his face again. "Well, I'm sure you won't be disappointed," he said simply, handing her a key. "Enjoy your stay," he added. She took the key; it was bulky and old - similar to her skeleton keys. As she turned to step away from the bar, she caught sight of a newspaper whose photos were… moving… However, this paper – labelled the Daily Prophet – gave her the first bit of context she was allowed… The date was July 15th, 1995. Absorbing this information, she moved away from the bar and made her way across the room deep in thought… But before she could make it to the stairs a tall man with icy blue eyes and bleach-blonde hair stopped her. "Good evening..." he murmured in a velvet tone, his blue eyes seeming to bore into her own. "Hello, may I help you?" she asked, trying to disguise her impatience. "Actually, I think I can help you...the name is Lucius Malfoy," he said coolly, extending a hand to her.
She took it, somewhat hesitantly. "Regina Mills," she replied, not feeding into his offer of assistance. Her dark eyes never wavered from his face, but she couldn't help the restless feeling that settled in the pit of her stomach. "Do you know where you are?" he asked her, seemingly rather perceptive. Little did Regina know that this pub was only for witches and wizards, and normal people - known here as muggles - couldn't get in. Which meant that she had to possess magic in order to have even seen the establishment. "Of course I do," she replied defiantly, afraid to seem vulnerable. He chuckled at her, a rather sinister noise, "No you don't. I make it my business to know of people of our kind, but you're not of my kind...no you're much more powerful," he replied, his tone now holding slight intrigue. He took a half step towards her, and she took a defensive step back.
"And what exactly is your kind?" she asked, keeping her voice as steady as possible. Without an answer he quickly drew his wand from his staff, brandishing it with a flare of drama. She raised her hand reflexively, casting it from his hand and across the room. "I knew it..." he breathed, clearly excited by what he had just witnessed, "Come with me, Miss Mills, there's someone you must meet." His words were a command, not a request. "Why should I?" she asked, her tone resistant and her intentions clear. "STUPEFY!" came the incantation from behind her and her hand went slack around the heavy metal key. It hit the floor only moments before her own body slumped forward into Lucius' arms. Having been distracted by the handsome blonde she hadn't sensed Fenrir Greyback approach her from behind to back Lucius up.
~Several hours later in Malfoy Manor~
Regina sat bolt upright, her hands touching the rough ground beneath her in a desperate attempt to orient herself to the dank space in which she sat. "Where the hell am I?" she muttered grumpily, rubbing at her temple to sooth a roaring headache. She pushed herself to her feet and raised her hand, conjuring a fireball. The fireball illuminated her surroundings, an empty basement... a dungeon. She moved forward, making her way towards the door which was merely metal bars. She grasped one with her free hand and gave it a hefty shake, which did little more than create lots of noise. Heaving a sigh, she began to pace, thinking of how she could possibly get out. She waved her hands to try and transport but was unable to do so. Little did she know that she was being held in a dungeon concealed within the large manor owned by the Malfoys, a well-known, wealthy pureblood family. Frustration coursed through her… how had she let this happen? This was the exact opposite of her plans.
Before too long she heard footsteps and voices that were steadily approaching, so she doused the fireball once more and awaited silently. A short, ugly man approached the cell door with a wand in his hand, "The Dark Lord wants to meet you," he stated in a nasally voice, unlocking the cell door. "I wouldn't advise any funny business..." he added as Regina approached. She rolled her eyes at him, pushing her way past and up the stairs quickly. She emerged into an elegantly decorated room and at the far end of the room stood a handful of figures, one of whom she recognized as Lucius Malfoy, the man who had cornered her in the Leaky Cauldron. The others, she would soon learn to be Lord Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius’ wife. Regina's eyes scanned the group as she approached, taking in the snake-like visage of Voldemort, the crazed look upon Bellatrix's face, the stoic beauty of Narcissa, and briefly glancing at the man she had already met. She was tense, unsurprisingly so, but for now she decided not to try and escape… after all, she was outnumbered and knew nothing of how these beings fought, aside from their use of wands… which, in her realm, would signify very important and powerful wizardry.
She considered speaking, but before she could protest her capture the bald, snakelike figure stepped away from the group and towards her. "Ahhh...So this is our guest," he said in a harsh voice that sent chills down Regina's spine, "Tell me, sorceress, what do they call you?" She hardly dared to speak, though she wanted to scoff at his use of the term ‘guest’… given that mere moments before she’d been locked in a dungeon. However, she knew she needed to answer him… so, after a moment she replied, "Regina...Regina Mills." A wicked smile that looked more like a grimace spread across his face, "Regina...a name fit for a Queen," he replied, amused, "Do you know who I am?" he asked, extending his arms to the side. She shook her head, "No, I'm afraid I don't..." she replied, her heart rate fluctuating dangerously, because despite the fact that she was telling the truth she somehow felt like everyone in this realm knew exactly who this was... Luckily, he didn’t seem insulted by her ignorance and instead spoke again, "I am Lord Voldemort to the brave, the Dark Lord to my followers, and You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to the scared.” He allowed for a heavy pause to fall between them before he asked, “What name do you think suits me?" testing her.
"Dark Lord," she answered simply, taking the smart route in a situation when she was horribly outnumbered… she had no desire to follow this snake-like being in whatever sense he meant, but she also didn’t wish to be killed. And she could tell from his eyes that her death was most certainly an option… "Clever girl..." he replied, his voice a hiss. In this moment he reminded her of the Dark One from her realm and she felt her breath hitch ever-so-slightly in her throat. After all, despite being mentored by him, Rumpelstiltskin had always been a very dark being… and coming across a similar soul here did not bode well for her safety and survival. "So, Regina," Voldemort began, enunciating every syllable of her name carefully, "Will you join me? Will you join the winning side?" She thought for a moment, unsure of how to reply...what side? What was the cause of the fight? Did she dare say no? No, that would be daft. "I am afraid I don't know what battle you are fighting, but I prefer to keep my head either way. If you wish for me to join your fight, I shall," she finally replied, spoken like a true Queen. Once again that grimace of a smile spread upon his features, and she gulped slightly. "Excellent...I shall call a meeting tonight and you will be initiated into my group of followers: the Death Eaters," he replied, extending his arms excitedly before turning to Lucius. "Give her a place in which to get prepared," he ordered before exiting the room.
~Several Hours Later~
After having been brought to a guest bedroom within the house, Regina was left alone to get herself ready. Seeing as this would be a ceremony of sorts, they recommended she wear a more formal outfit.... Little did they know that once the door was closed, she raised her hands and vanished in a cloud of violet smoke. When she emerged, she had returned to a more 'Evil Queen' look. She now wore a black gown hugging at her curves and accentuating her chest. It was clear that among these wizards and witches, she would stand out regardless of the outfit she chose, due to their own sense of strange fashion… so she didn’t bother trying to blend in. She looked in a mirror, taking in her own appearance which was much more striking now that she had returned to a more powerful look. Perhaps next time they would give her more firm recommendations as far as dress was concerned. She wished to make an impression, a lasting one… and this would certainly do that. Now that she was more adequately clothed for a formal ceremony, she had other preparations to be made. Namely, she was concerned that her own memories may become weapons against her, or – worse – that this infamous dark wizard may set his sights on the Enchanted Forest… or even Storybrooke… if he saw the wrong thing. Like, perhaps, the saviour… or the author.
With every intention of protecting those she had grown to love, she closed her eyes and focused her energy on doing something that she hadn't done to herself ever… She did her best to remove her memories of Henry and Emma, any positive memory of the time she spent in Storybrooke… She didn't want to have any weaknesses for these people - these Death Eaters - to exploit. As she stood concentrating, she felt a weight in her hand and suddenly she didn't know what it was she had tried so hard to forget. She could remember Storybrooke itself, but there was a strange haze around the memories… as though her memories were a video reel with damaged parts that came out blurry when projected. In her hand laid a purple stone with a perfect smooth surface, a memory stone. She tucked it into a pocket that was concealed within the folds of her gown… she knew what it was, and she realized what she’d done. She’d removed memories to protect herself… but in doing so, she had also removed much of the factors that had allowed her to become the reformed Queen. She could feel a ball of rage begin to fill the hole in her heart… that darkness within her threatening to expand into the empty voids of her memories and drag her back to the villain she’d once been. She turned back to the mirror, her gaze drifting to stare at herself.
Just as she let her gaze settle upon her own altered visage, there came a knock at the door. She approached, using magic to fling it open, and there stood a shocked Narcissa, hand still raised as though she were knocking. "Shall we?" Regina said, her tone cool and her eyes void of emotion. By removing memories of those she loved, she had managed to remove the reason for the light in her heart...gone was Mayor Mills and in the corridor of Malfoy Manor stood the Evil Queen. She turned and made her way back towards the room they had been in, leaving the blonde standing there in a stupor. She emerged into the room which was now filled with mostly men who sat at a table; the Dark Lord was seated at the head of the table, and she moved towards him. He stood, extending his hand towards her and she stopped, her gaze still locked on him, "Regina Mills...our latest initiate," he spoke with pride, and she felt her posture adjust itself subconsciously as her gaze turned to look over the others, coming to rest on a handsome face framed by raven hair. Her eyes lingered there on onyx eyes that held the same amount of emptiness that lay within her chest. Pursing her lips, she was momentarily entranced by him, before she was drawn back to the present by voices as each Death Eater introduced themselves. Rookwood was one...Bellatrix was the crazy-eyed woman...and still her mind wandered to the man in black.