Remix!
Remix authors have been revealed! Finally. I swear it felt like that took forever. By the way, the remix that was done of me was for my Once Upon a Time/Doctor Who story "The Last Stop on the Tour". I think technically you could point out that it's actually a sequel, rather than a remix, but a sequel for that story (which even I admit probably ended before anything actually interesting happened) is such a fun idea that I'm not certainly going to complain about it!
Anyway. I also wrote Once Upon a Time, and I suspect that nobody who knows me who checked out the stories before the author reveal will remotely be surprised to learn that I wrote this one. You know, between this and the Rick and Morty one, I feel like I have this slightly disturbing mess-up-the-kid-forever bad parenting/grandparenting theme going this month. I may have to write some good parents again to make up for it...
Title: Circulatory (The Words Taken to Heart Remix)
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Characters: young Regina, Cora
Rating:/Warnings: PG-ish. Note that it depicts a canonically pretty abusive parent-child relationship, and features bad things happening to a small child.
Summary: Regina learns about hearts.
Length: ~1,400 words.
Author's notes: This is a remix of "Rubatosis" by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess). It was written for Remix Revival.
Circulatory (The Words Taken to Heart Remix)
Mother is carrying something.
Regina peeks out of the door of her playroom, her solitary, forbidden game of Hero and Monster immediately forgotten, and watches her mother pass. Whatever she is holding, it's cupped in both hands, as if it's something fragile and precious. Mother holds it close to her chest, above the level of Regina's head, so Regina can't see it properly, but between Mother's fingers, she catches a glimpse of something reddish, of a warm almost-glow. Magic. It has to be something magic.
Magic frightens her, but also fascinates her, and she strains her eyes for a better glimpse as Mother glides by, all her attention on the thing and none at all on Regina.
But she can't see anything more, and, disappointed, she is about to go back to her game, when she realizes something. Mother is talking to it. Whispering to it. Regina can't make out the words, but it sounds warm, and happy, and satisfied. The way Regina always hopes Mother will speak to her.
A sudden, strange sense of jealousy joins the curiosity inside her, and before she stops to think about what she's doing, she is slipping through the door and quietly following her mother down the corridor. She's good at being quiet around her mother, when she needs to be.
Regina follows her through halls and down stairs, until...
Oh. It's Mother's vault.
Spying on her mother - and Regina knows that's what Mother would call it - is one thing, but being here is very, very forbidden. Regina is hesitating in the doorway, about to turn around, when she sees Mother, on the other side of the room, open a box and gently lower the object towards it.
Regina stands frozen for a second, then leans forward, straining for a better look. She doesn't know why she isn't leaving, only knows that whatever this is, it feels important, it feels like something she needs to know about, it feels like... like...
The lid of the box closes. Regina has seen nothing at all.
Ahead of her, not turning around, Mother holds up a hand.
Vines - familiar, horrible vines - burst from the walls and snatch Regina into the air, leave her dangling and helpless. She knows it's no use to squirm, but can't help doing it, anyway, until the vines tighten, like a warning.
Mother turns to face her, slowly. She's smiling, but Mother's smiles don't often mean anything good. They look like smiles on her face, but it never seems like she's really smiling, not inside.
"Regina," she says.
"Mother, I'm sorry, I... I didn't..."
"Hush." Mother twists her hand slightly in the air, and the vines tighten again. Regina can feel her arms beginning to go numb where they've wrapped around her. "How many times," says Mother, in a voice that might seem pleasant if Regina didn't know better, "have I told you not to come in here?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" Regina's voice is ragged now. She's almost crying, and she hates herself for it. Crying never gets you anywhere. Mother's taught her that.
Mother tuts. "That's not what I asked. How many times?"
"I... I don't know." She tries to make herself go limp, to stop fighting against her bonds. It's difficult, not because she's frightened, although she is, but because she's angry. It always makes her want to lash out and struggle when her mother does this. But this time, the fear wins out.
"Once. Once, Regina. And that should be enough, now, shouldn't it?"
"Y- Yes. Yes, mother. I'm sorry."
"Well. So you should be." Mother makes a sweeping gesture with her hands and the vines retreat and disappear into the walls.
Regina stumbles as they drop her to the floor, but manages not to fall. She draws in a sharp breath and waits to see what Mother will do next.
"Why did you follow me?"
Regina clenches her jaw, straightens herself up to her full six-year-old height. Brave, she tells herself. Be brave. Like the hero with the monster. "I wanted to see what you had."
Cora smiles again. It's still not a good smile. "Curiosity, is that it? You want to know what I keep in here?"
Brave, Regina tells herself again, and nods. She does. She very, very much wants to know. Even if it's bad.
"Why, my foolish child. It's hearts!" She gestures around the room. It is full, full of boxes and shelves and drawers, everywhere. "This is my vault of hearts." She gives Regina a thoughtful look, as if Regina's an interesting bug that's landed on her arm. "Do you know what a heart is, Regina?"
"It's the thing in your chest," Regina says, her hand unconsciously rising to rest against her own chest for a moment. "It keeps you alive."
"A heart is much more than that," says Mother. "You wanted to see one?"
Regina nods, but her mouth has gone dry. She doesn't want to be here anymore. And yet... And yet, she does want to see.
"Very well." Mother's hand shoots out. It's fast, faster than she'd thought a person could move, and for a second Regina thinks Mother is going to hit her in the chest, knock her down, but when Mother's hand strikes her, it keeps going, and then something inside her is ripping and tearing loose, something is squeezing part of her she didn't even know she had, or maybe it's squeezing her, squeezing all of her, and she opens her mouth to scream, but suddenly it's over. Tears are streaming down her face, but she feels.... She's not sure how she feels. Hurt. Strange. Empty.
Mother holds something out for her to see. "There you are. Your heart." Mother turns it over in her hand, and looks at it with no expression on her face at all.
It's so small. Small, and magical, and perfect. It glows a warm, unstained red. Nestled in Mother's hand, it looks... naked. It looks like it shouldn't be there.
"This is you," Mother says. "This is what you are." Her hand tightens around the heart, squeezing it a little, and Regina gasps in pain, a pain that comes from her chest, and from outside her chest, and from everywhere else in the world at once. Tears spring to her eyes again.
"Oh, stop crying," Mother says, holding the heart up to her mouth, and suddenly Regina's eyes go dry, even though the pain is still there, still everywhere until, a moment later, Mother relaxes her grip and lowers the heart again.
"You... You made me do that?" says Regina. The thought terrifies her. Mother can do all kinds of things to her, but never that. Never that much.
"Of course I did. This-" Mother holds the heart in front of Regina's eyes. Regina wants to look away from it, but she can't. She can't. Is Mother doing that, or is it Regina herself? "-is weakness. Weakness for the person that has one. Power for the one that controls it. Do you understand?" Her face as she asks the question is almost gentle. A mother teaching her daughter an important lesson.
Regina doesn't understand. But she nods, anyway, her eyes never leaving her heart.
"I'm not sure you do," says Mother. "but you will." She sighs. "Well. I certainly hope you will. Honestly, you are such a difficult little thing."
Almost casually, she leans down and shoves the heart back into Regina. Regina gasps and clutches at her chest, trying to keep it inside. She feels whole again, but... different. She can feel the heart inside her now, feel the beating of it in her ears, a sound that's both physical and magical. She's never going to not feel it now, never going to stop hearing it. Never going to stop knowing.
"Now," says Mother, straightening up again. "Run along, will you? We'll see about some suitable punishment for disobedience later."
Regina nods, says, "Yes, mother," the way she's been taught, and flees the room.
She ought to be afraid, but she's not. Not of the punishment, at least. She can't quite seem to make herself think about that.
All she can think about, as she stumbles back up the steps and down the corridor to her room, is the sound in her ears, the feeling in her chest, and the memory of her mother's voice. "This is what you are."
This is what you are.
Anyway. I also wrote Once Upon a Time, and I suspect that nobody who knows me who checked out the stories before the author reveal will remotely be surprised to learn that I wrote this one. You know, between this and the Rick and Morty one, I feel like I have this slightly disturbing mess-up-the-kid-forever bad parenting/grandparenting theme going this month. I may have to write some good parents again to make up for it...
Title: Circulatory (The Words Taken to Heart Remix)
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Characters: young Regina, Cora
Rating:/Warnings: PG-ish. Note that it depicts a canonically pretty abusive parent-child relationship, and features bad things happening to a small child.
Summary: Regina learns about hearts.
Length: ~1,400 words.
Author's notes: This is a remix of "Rubatosis" by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess). It was written for Remix Revival.
Circulatory (The Words Taken to Heart Remix)
Mother is carrying something.
Regina peeks out of the door of her playroom, her solitary, forbidden game of Hero and Monster immediately forgotten, and watches her mother pass. Whatever she is holding, it's cupped in both hands, as if it's something fragile and precious. Mother holds it close to her chest, above the level of Regina's head, so Regina can't see it properly, but between Mother's fingers, she catches a glimpse of something reddish, of a warm almost-glow. Magic. It has to be something magic.
Magic frightens her, but also fascinates her, and she strains her eyes for a better glimpse as Mother glides by, all her attention on the thing and none at all on Regina.
But she can't see anything more, and, disappointed, she is about to go back to her game, when she realizes something. Mother is talking to it. Whispering to it. Regina can't make out the words, but it sounds warm, and happy, and satisfied. The way Regina always hopes Mother will speak to her.
A sudden, strange sense of jealousy joins the curiosity inside her, and before she stops to think about what she's doing, she is slipping through the door and quietly following her mother down the corridor. She's good at being quiet around her mother, when she needs to be.
Regina follows her through halls and down stairs, until...
Oh. It's Mother's vault.
Spying on her mother - and Regina knows that's what Mother would call it - is one thing, but being here is very, very forbidden. Regina is hesitating in the doorway, about to turn around, when she sees Mother, on the other side of the room, open a box and gently lower the object towards it.
Regina stands frozen for a second, then leans forward, straining for a better look. She doesn't know why she isn't leaving, only knows that whatever this is, it feels important, it feels like something she needs to know about, it feels like... like...
The lid of the box closes. Regina has seen nothing at all.
Ahead of her, not turning around, Mother holds up a hand.
Vines - familiar, horrible vines - burst from the walls and snatch Regina into the air, leave her dangling and helpless. She knows it's no use to squirm, but can't help doing it, anyway, until the vines tighten, like a warning.
Mother turns to face her, slowly. She's smiling, but Mother's smiles don't often mean anything good. They look like smiles on her face, but it never seems like she's really smiling, not inside.
"Regina," she says.
"Mother, I'm sorry, I... I didn't..."
"Hush." Mother twists her hand slightly in the air, and the vines tighten again. Regina can feel her arms beginning to go numb where they've wrapped around her. "How many times," says Mother, in a voice that might seem pleasant if Regina didn't know better, "have I told you not to come in here?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" Regina's voice is ragged now. She's almost crying, and she hates herself for it. Crying never gets you anywhere. Mother's taught her that.
Mother tuts. "That's not what I asked. How many times?"
"I... I don't know." She tries to make herself go limp, to stop fighting against her bonds. It's difficult, not because she's frightened, although she is, but because she's angry. It always makes her want to lash out and struggle when her mother does this. But this time, the fear wins out.
"Once. Once, Regina. And that should be enough, now, shouldn't it?"
"Y- Yes. Yes, mother. I'm sorry."
"Well. So you should be." Mother makes a sweeping gesture with her hands and the vines retreat and disappear into the walls.
Regina stumbles as they drop her to the floor, but manages not to fall. She draws in a sharp breath and waits to see what Mother will do next.
"Why did you follow me?"
Regina clenches her jaw, straightens herself up to her full six-year-old height. Brave, she tells herself. Be brave. Like the hero with the monster. "I wanted to see what you had."
Cora smiles again. It's still not a good smile. "Curiosity, is that it? You want to know what I keep in here?"
Brave, Regina tells herself again, and nods. She does. She very, very much wants to know. Even if it's bad.
"Why, my foolish child. It's hearts!" She gestures around the room. It is full, full of boxes and shelves and drawers, everywhere. "This is my vault of hearts." She gives Regina a thoughtful look, as if Regina's an interesting bug that's landed on her arm. "Do you know what a heart is, Regina?"
"It's the thing in your chest," Regina says, her hand unconsciously rising to rest against her own chest for a moment. "It keeps you alive."
"A heart is much more than that," says Mother. "You wanted to see one?"
Regina nods, but her mouth has gone dry. She doesn't want to be here anymore. And yet... And yet, she does want to see.
"Very well." Mother's hand shoots out. It's fast, faster than she'd thought a person could move, and for a second Regina thinks Mother is going to hit her in the chest, knock her down, but when Mother's hand strikes her, it keeps going, and then something inside her is ripping and tearing loose, something is squeezing part of her she didn't even know she had, or maybe it's squeezing her, squeezing all of her, and she opens her mouth to scream, but suddenly it's over. Tears are streaming down her face, but she feels.... She's not sure how she feels. Hurt. Strange. Empty.
Mother holds something out for her to see. "There you are. Your heart." Mother turns it over in her hand, and looks at it with no expression on her face at all.
It's so small. Small, and magical, and perfect. It glows a warm, unstained red. Nestled in Mother's hand, it looks... naked. It looks like it shouldn't be there.
"This is you," Mother says. "This is what you are." Her hand tightens around the heart, squeezing it a little, and Regina gasps in pain, a pain that comes from her chest, and from outside her chest, and from everywhere else in the world at once. Tears spring to her eyes again.
"Oh, stop crying," Mother says, holding the heart up to her mouth, and suddenly Regina's eyes go dry, even though the pain is still there, still everywhere until, a moment later, Mother relaxes her grip and lowers the heart again.
"You... You made me do that?" says Regina. The thought terrifies her. Mother can do all kinds of things to her, but never that. Never that much.
"Of course I did. This-" Mother holds the heart in front of Regina's eyes. Regina wants to look away from it, but she can't. She can't. Is Mother doing that, or is it Regina herself? "-is weakness. Weakness for the person that has one. Power for the one that controls it. Do you understand?" Her face as she asks the question is almost gentle. A mother teaching her daughter an important lesson.
Regina doesn't understand. But she nods, anyway, her eyes never leaving her heart.
"I'm not sure you do," says Mother. "but you will." She sighs. "Well. I certainly hope you will. Honestly, you are such a difficult little thing."
Almost casually, she leans down and shoves the heart back into Regina. Regina gasps and clutches at her chest, trying to keep it inside. She feels whole again, but... different. She can feel the heart inside her now, feel the beating of it in her ears, a sound that's both physical and magical. She's never going to not feel it now, never going to stop hearing it. Never going to stop knowing.
"Now," says Mother, straightening up again. "Run along, will you? We'll see about some suitable punishment for disobedience later."
Regina nods, says, "Yes, mother," the way she's been taught, and flees the room.
She ought to be afraid, but she's not. Not of the punishment, at least. She can't quite seem to make herself think about that.
All she can think about, as she stumbles back up the steps and down the corridor to her room, is the sound in her ears, the feeling in her chest, and the memory of her mother's voice. "This is what you are."
This is what you are.