#thewickedwitchx

[wickedevents]

Plot Twist

It was well beyond working hours by the time Lena had glanced up at the clock. She’d been sitting at her desk nursing a glass of red wine while brooding. As the witching hour came upon her, the grandfather clock in the hallway chiming loudly, she rose restlessly from her seat and walked across the room of her office towards a painting hanging near the door. She lifted the canvas down then examined the seemingly blank wall, smiling to herself.

She lifted her hands, held them about six inches apart then splayed her fingers wide. She pushed and there was a quiet hiss followed by a well-hidden panel releasing itself. The craftsmanship on the construction of her “workspace” was absolutely flawless and pleased her greatly. Lena slid the panel to the side then affectionately stroked her hand across the safe in the wall.

Power, deliciously dark, hummed beneath her fingertips, shooting sparks up her arm and jolting down her spine. Glorious. She unlocked the safe, twisting the knob in a familiar combination before pulling it open. Magic released into the room, a soft warmth that caressed over her skin and made her feel giddy. Oh, how she’d missed it — it was so odd most of the time being in this land without magic.

Her eyes draw greedily over the jagged blade of the dagger, reading the familiar name etched into it. She reached in to pull it out, holding it like a valuable treasure between both of her hands, then carried it back towards her desk. She settled back down into her chair then gently placed the magical weapon in front of her. 

Rumplestiltskin. The Dark One. Her face remained passive but she felt a myriad of emotions flicker inside of her. She sighed disappointedly, so much power and greatness wasted on a weak, weak man. 

She sat back in her chair, bracing her elbow on the armrest and bringing her hand up to touch her finger to her lip as she contemplated the dagger. After a few more moments, she reached over and pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk. Her hand flipped over and she felt around for a small scroll — two inches in height — that she had stuck on the underside of the middle drawer. Her fingers closed around it and her smile widened.

Lena leaned back in her seat and toyed with the object, tossing it back and forth from hand to hand. She doesn’t need to unroll the parchment, she already had it memorized, but after a minute she does it anyway just to read the familiar words written in a language as ancient as Time. She read it once more, lips pursing as her mind began to calculate and plan.

To bring that idiot little imp back from the realm he had travelled to, she needed to provide the blood of the person he loves most. Two images flashed into her mind, one of Belle — his Twoo Wuv (she rolled her eyes at at) — and one of Neal — his boy. She can’t be certain which one and that’s troublesome for she can’t afford to get it wrong. She has one chance to get this right, otherwise she has to forfeit her plan, and naturally, that would never do.

Absentmindedly, she raised her hand and ran her fingers over the silver blade, tracing at the letters. It had to be Neal, he was the very cause of the original curse to begin with. The Dark One had orchestrated an incredible web, tangling every single person in this town (and then some) together in order to find his son. He controlled the Fates, altered Destinies, traveled across time and space, practically moved Heaven and Earth for Baelfire. 

She was positive it was Neal. It had to be. Acquiring his blood would prove to be a challenge, but it was one she was ready and willing to accept. While there was no room for error, there was also no room for failure. She would get what she wanted. 

Lena reached for her glass, smiling behind it before raising it for a celebratory toast and downing the remainder of it in its entirety. Yes, she would get what she wanted. She always did. 

[wickedevents]

She always believed that people were -- to their core -- selfish by nature, and she was most definitely no exception to that theory. She thrived most in her desires, in every aspect of her life, and early on, she had discovered how addictive her personality could be. It was simple really, whatever gave her the most pleasure, she sought...and continued to seek for as long as it suited her. When it stopped, she looked for new things to latch on to. It was an extreme way to live and naturally, as was the way of the world, there had to be consequences. It never mattered to her though, what the price was (and more often than not it was heavy), she paid every time.

For instance, she wanted power...she turned green. Others would have been appalled, would have shied away from such greatness like cowards. Not her though, she merely saw the price as a small inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.

She continued to mull over her thoughts as her feet carried her through a bare corridor of the top-most floor in the hospital. It was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that made people nervous and wring their hands together in an anxious gesture. She didn't mind it, she liked the quiet, especially when her mind was always full of noise.

At the end of the hall, she stopped in her tracks and studied the heavy-duty doors. RESTRICTED ACCESS, it read in bold, block letters. She glanced at the security pad on the wall beside the entrance and walked over to it. It was simple, plain black with one tiny, little bulb in the corner that glowed red. Her hand reached out, stroking at it lightly -- state of the art, durable, secure. She dropped her hand, smiling as she did so. She loved the technology in this world.

Ella reached into her pocket and pulled out a blank, white key card. She held it over the pad for a few seconds and waited. After a moment, there was a loud, buzzing noise that filled the hallway, followed by the light on the keypad turning green, and the sharp click of the doors unlocking. She pocketed her key then grasped the handle and pulled the door open.

Where the corridor she had just come from had been empty and seemingly deserted, this portion of the wing was bursting with life. Nurses and doctors bustled about, machines beeped, and light chatter filled the air. Nobody paid her any mind, nobody ever did, and she preferred it that way. 

She walked all the way to the back, heels clicking as she strolled leisurely amongst the employees -- her employees. The curse had given them human forms and she had to admit, the change wasn't unpleasant. It was a step up from the monstrosities she'd had to lay her eyes upon for endless years.

At the end of hall was a room with glass windows, she stood in front of it with her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. She felt rather than heard the resident psychiatrist join her on her right side. It pleased her greatly. She'd trained them well -- to make as little noise as possible, to slip in and out of places undetected...but she always knew. It was her job to know.

"Madam Mayor," he said in greeting.

"How is she?" she wondered, no patience for formalities.

"Her condition remains the same."

Ella's lips pursed at that and her thoughts swirled about in her head. She studied the figure lying motionless on the bed in the room, hooked up to monitors and an iv drip -- a young woman with blonde hair and a kind face. Her stomach clenched and she nodded before turning her head back to the doctor.

"Keep her on the Lithium, her hallucinations must be controlled. Up the dosage if you need to." Her voice was clipped and it was all she said before going back the way she had came. She'd be back though, she always came back.