“People don’t change. They only fool themselves into believing they can.”
Regina watched the inhabitants of Storybrooke (her town) walk about to start their Wednesday. For eighteen years, she had bored herself with the same smiles, good-mornings, and day-to-day interactions with the Cursed until she’d had enough – running to the only man she knew who could help. Mr. Gold, the last person she wanted to go to for assistance, found her a child. And that child, her little prince, just-so-happened to have a mother descended from the line of two idiots. (Fate’s a bitch, isn’t it?) Regina wasn’t stupid; her talk with Ingrid – the only person she found solace in – had more than opened her eyes. While her only true friend wanted, needed Emma to stay, Regina was doing everything in her power to get the blonde and her bug to hit the hay.
Until now.
Regina mulled over the occurrences of yesterdays, her eyes fixed on the eyes of the townspeople that her passed by. Still glazed over (much like staggering sleep-walkers) unless spoken to, all eyes indicated only one thing: her success. Yet, Regina couldn’t bring herself to rejoice. Sure, everyone did seem to be walking in the same daze they had done for nearly three decades. Clearly, the curse full of vengeance hadn’t suffered too much damage – but the queen felt a change in the air. Wicked winds in the west, a bitter substance stinging the oxygen that filled her lungs – something was happening to her curse.
Emma Swan was staying.
Henry needed her, Ingrid needed her, and Regina was going to do absolutely nothing to get her to try to leave. When the time came, she knew Emma would pack her bags and ditch her town. Perhaps time was all she needed. Time and patience.
The ticking of the clock reminded her of the biggest change of all – time was no longer on the queen’s side and she knew she had to do something, anything to return it to a stop.













