A sharp breath was drawn as Regina reluctantly allowed her eyes to close. She wanted desperately to keep them open, to watch every aspect of this spell unfold, and be certain of her own safety. While she was one to trust without abandon, that did not mean she wasn’t afraid. And to an already burnt hand, being told it was to be burned again was not exactly that bolstering to her confidence. Swallowing thickly, she tried to steady her breathing, focusing solely on Maleficent’s words. After all, she had asked the woman to teach her, and though the request had initially been rejected, she was beginning to HOPE for something more substantial than a single potion to curse a single horse to eternal slumber.
A deep line formed in her brow as she tried to focus on the instructions, concentration typically her only ally in succeeding at magic. She could feel the heat – curiously it did not burn, as Maleficent had sworn, but she felt it all the same. It engulfed her hand, and creeped its way to her chest, sprawling out in bright red patches until it had stained her cheeks a rosy shade of pink. Her breathing became more labored, and when a flash of light ignited bright enough to be seen from behind closed eyes, Regina’s eyes flew open, staring in awe. She was —– doing it. A wide grin began to form, and as it did, the flame changed color, a pulse emanating out from her own palm, forcing the fire back away from herself.
The pain was ebbing away, and Regina’s smile was turned on Maleficent. An eager stare set upon the woman in her bath, still bare, and soaked, not all as modest as she likely meant to be, but this time Regina’s gaze did not stray. “It’s working,” she breathed out, voice shaking with disbelief as the pain was nearly all but gone.
The spell was taxing on her, more than she remembered or would have bargained it would be. But then that simply spoke to her state of being itself. Weaker than she would have ever admitted. Despite her every bit of pride that kept her trembling from being obvious to Regina, the trembling was there. Deep in her bones she was quivering, pushing out more strength than she truly possessed, all to force the spell to do as much as it possibly could to help her friend. Her eyes stayed fixated on their almost joined hands, brows furrowed deep in concentration, willing herself not to falter. Despite Regina’s voice breaking through her gaze only drifted up to the girl’s for a moment, quick and then it returned back to its former place, as though staring hard enough would fill the spaces where her magic was feeling horribly inadequate. Deep breaths were drawn in through her nose, trying to settle the wave of nausea that seemed to come on, as she pushed for more from herself.
The spell was growing, light and flickering fire illuminating the otherwise darkened room, and her strength was waning far more than she was easily able to conceal. Her hand clung suddenly to the one above, as the last shreds of magic fought against Regina’s, fire desperate to consume flesh and blister her all the more, as fire had few other desires than to decimate and burn, but the contact of her hand, her magic, quickly snuffed out Maleficent’s flame. The spell had worked, and when she slowly slipped back down into the water her hand still stayed clenched to the one just healed, tugging her close enough until her forehead laid atop it. Her eyes closed, as she pulled and willed some strength back to herself, her chest heaving slightly in and out of the water.
“You did it,” she spoke in a breathless but proud tone. And truly she was proud. Not of herself, not at all of herself, for such a lackluster performance of a low level spell, but of Regina’s strength of heart. She could feel the moment their hands met, the power she held was strong, much stronger than she would likely believe, and all originating from her heart’s will to survive. Resilient. That was the word. She could think of no other more befitting. While Maleficent herself had fallen into a state of despair and apathy at her loss, Regina was something special. Resilient in the face of pain, so many kinds of it. The girl’s magic could easily be a match for her own former glory with the right encouragement. Perhaps even more impressive. But it was a fragile power, hidden deep within an also timid heart, locked away even from herself. All it took was the right sort of approach to draw it out, but it was one that there was no way Rumpelstiltskin was capable of or interested in employing. Perhaps she should give the girl’s desperate request more consideration, but there would be time for such decision’s later. the spell was still taking a toll on her, leaving her weak and feeble even in the water that had been heated by her flame. “Can you get that for me?” She asked softly, lifting her head to look in the direction of her robe, hoping that alone would be enough indication to what she meant. She had not the strength to explain any further.