Anyone know any good young! Swan Queen Enchanted Forest AUs?
"You think that scares me? I manage to sneer, refusing to let Owen witness the walls around my soul come crashing down. His mocking countenance becomes dead serious. "Oh, it should," he says. I draw in a sharp breath of fear and desperately scrape at the platform I've been strapped to with metal-clipped fingernails. Blood pulses against the cold metal at my temples as I stare at the empty doorway, willing for anyone in this goddamn town to miraculously charge through to save me. Owen continues fixing wires onto the box, and I grow increasingly exhausted struggling against the strap forcing me down. I am nothing without magic. A queen by default, but here, when stripped down to my bare human form, what am I? Regina. Who is that? Unbeknownst to anyone, I have emotions buried deep within me that are surfacing now. My diamond exterior shatters, and I am nothing but a lost girl. "Where is my father?" Owen's voice drops to a menacing whisper. Although his finger is balanced precariously on the switch, I keep my mouth shut. Then blinding light. Searing heat courses through my veins and sets my blood on fire. I cry out a single vowel as my final plea to the world. The pain is too great, and in the sea of white I see a silhouette. Mother? Then the world is black. The electricity stops abruptly at the sound of a gunshot. I feel the last of Cora's presence ebbing away. The pain dulls to a fiery throb. I am alive. The sudden warmth on my face surprises me- a hand. Then two on my shoulders, trying to shake me out of this purgatory. Finally that hand is on my beating heart, and the contact shocks me. My eyes flicker open, and I am overwhelmed by brightness. I manage to catch fragments of the room- Bits of glass, a glimpse of blonde hair, and the dark green eyes. But waking up feels like drowning, as if the platform is dissolving into sand beneath me, swallowing me into hell. I grasp the hand over my heart, and she holds me. Her touch violently plunges me back into our reality. As senses sharpen, I realise that my name is falling from her lips in desperation and...fear? The familiar voice. Emma Swan. My mouth runs dry. "I'm getting you to safety," are the saving words I cling onto as she lifts me from this torture chamber. Why is she doing this for me? Why did she save me? I think, as hot years stream down my cheeks. I only realise then that my limp arms were subconsciously hung around her neck. I hate her. I hate this woman. I HATE HER with the same fiery spirit that drives my being. But in this close proximity, why do I feel nothing but gratitude and security as she carries me to safety?