The last time she was in the cell, he had seen a faint glimmer of gold shining from behind the lace of her corset. The trinket hung from a chain on her décolletage, kept ever near to the prison of her heart, closed from the world's touch. And he was positive he knew what it was; and he would do whatever it took to get it.

"Hey. I need a favor," the Prince rasped to a feather-clad guard at the cell bars.

The guard didn't flinch, choosing instead to recite out, "I don't do favors for prisoners."

Biting his lip, James persisted. He had to get that damn key. "Tell the Queen I want to see her. Privately."

The guard burst out in a deep and taunting cackle. "Here, let me let you out and you can go talk to her yourself. Would that be more feasible?" the guard snorted, "Get back into your cell, swine."

Annoyance began to twitch under the Prince's skin. He pulled a lace from his vest, and wrapped it tightly around the smug guard's neck. He didn't move until the guard's face began to glow violet. "Now, if you want to breathe, give her the message. Tell her. Privately." Unable to speak, the guard frantically and incomprehensibly jerked his neck up and down.

"I'm going to assume that means you'll get her down here. Am I correct?" The sporadic movement continued, and the Prince gradually loosened his grip from the guard's windpipe. "Now go. Fetch her." The guard ran into the darkness of the dungeon corridor, as another guard took his place.

James waited for hours and hours in silence, accompanied only by the sound of dripping stalactites, and the promising thought that he wouldn't be in this prison much longer. He was awakened from his reflections by the intimidating and familiar sound of leather heels pounding onto stone.

The Prince prepared himself for one the best lies he would ever have to tell.

"Well, it seems I have a caller. And to what do I owe this pleasure?" Her voice was nonchalant and exasperated, and her brown eyes were lackadaisically shifting all around the cave. She had her back turned, too proud to look him in the face.

The Prince cleared his throat, ridding himself of all apprehension before completely abasing himself. He leaned in incredibly close, and she shuddered to feel his breath on her neck. "I'm ready for the second battle, Regina," he panted out onto the outer shell of her ear. The Queen turned around instantly, her jaw clenched with anger, but her eyes subtly tinted darker with lust.

"Who gave you the authority to refer to me so informally? And I'll use you on my terms, Charming," she bit her bottom lip and gazed him up and down. James smirked at her failed attempt to conceal arousal. He could see the icy façade starting to grow thin and transparent with the heat of desire.

"Remember yourself, prisoner," Regina's voice echoed through the dungeon as she strutted off. But he knew she would be back. And he could still make out his glimmering target underneath the layers of her bodice.

Much later, James was trying his best to sleep on the pile of straw the Queen regularly provided for her prisoners. He hadn't actually had a peaceful moment of sleep since he arrived, as Snow kept intruding his thoughts and worries. The Prince's eyes were red-rimmed and there was an ache about his face that had been there for weeks. He would give anything to know the time, just to know that time still moved. James didn't even have a window to track the Sun day by day, and God only knew how long she had kept him imprisoned. But that would soon change. As the thought of freedom lulled his eyes shut, he got his first taste of slumber in weeks; or possibly months.

He wasn't asleep an hour before the clack of wooden slippers jolted him awake. Oh, James throbbed for a full night of sleep, but certain sacrifices had to made. He saw her bursting through the shadows, dressed in an eggplant-colored satin chemise embellished with black lace, and a violet robe to match. Her hair was down, and it was so long…usually she wore it piled on her head in place of a crown. The Prince was slightly sickened by this new unexpected fascination. But there was the black chain, strung around her neck, as always.

He cleared his throat, trying to rid his voice of sleepy annoyance. "Your Majesty, (he couldn't risk offending her when he was close to getting out) what are you doing here at this hour?"

"Charming, I told you I would use you at my disposal. And that time is now." As she pounded towards the bars, her robes swished and engulfed her like purple flames consuming a sculpture. She was eager, gritting her teeth, and her eyes dilated, almost black. The Prince almost laughed aloud due to such serendipity.

With a simple wave, the Queen slammed the bars open as a thunderous clang of metal on stone echoed through the entire dungeon. She pounced into the cell, her pace rapid and heavy; a wild horse jolted alive by a spur. And oddly enough, James could feel his blood begin to heat up. It was nothing significant; the Prince was simply nervous about how he would manage to get the key, or at least that's what he told himself repeatedly.

"Sit down, Charming," the Queen growled quietly, but still loud enough for James to find his mouth suddenly dry. He gulped, searching for a clear thought. He frantically looked for the boulder beside him, nearly missing it as he lowered himself onto the rock. Regina's robe slid off her shoulders, and into a deep violet puddle at her feet.

Now only in her satin chemise, James was mesmerized at how the silky fabric glided across her caramel-colored thighs. Not a word was spoken; she placed her legs across the sides of his, and he could feel her stare crisp and frigid underneath his skin. Regina began to lick and bite at the tendons on his neck, like a starved animal. She left marks…just another symbol she connected to the ownership of her subjects.

The last time Regina was here, she took advantage of him physically, and now, James felt that she was doing the same thing; the only difference was that he could feel her manipulation from his insides. She was twisting his mind somehow; ropes or magic didn't restrain him this time, and yet he still couldn't resist her advances.

"Your Majesty, your hair is so beautiful. Silky, and dark. Like velvet," he gasped out before Regina's own lips swallowed his words. But these words weren't the Prince's. James' mouth moved against his own will.

The Queen was panting, moving her mouth across the scape of his face and neck, leaving no place untouched. She began to undo leather laces, and the rippling sound of ripped cotton began to fill the silence of the cell. "Tell me, Charming, what else do you see in me," she huffed out, breathy and whinging. And the words began to pour from his mouth like some sort of poisonous spring. His eyes however, although they did wander, never left the cord around her neck for an extended period of time.

"Your lips, my Queen. Plush, and soft. They feel like flower petals. Kiss me more, please, your Majesty," he realized he was panting, and Regina was sucking on every chiseled groove of his torso. James became a wooden puppet of his former self, hands reaching out to remove the violet nightgown.

As James looked up and down the Queen's body, all olive skin and lean curves, control was lost. And he failed to notice that the golden trinket around her neck was not a palace master key, but a ring, made of cheap blended gold, and tarnished with age.

"You may address me informally. Call me Regina. I want to hear you say it. I want you to feel me, to taste me, and to say it."

James' face was void of emotion as he lifted the hungry Queen off of himself and sat her down on the boulder. He kneeled down slowly, as if the pressure of thousand-pound stones were slowly lowering his whole body, vertebra by vertebra. Regina gripped onto his shoulders as his tongue glided a trail up her inner thigh and slowly entered her body.

James couldn't think; could barely see through blurred vision. But by some power greater than his own, he could feel her and he could taste her. He made his way to Regina's swollen bundle of nerves, nipping and sucking every place he could. A bold and sharp flavor erupted on his tongue in short bursts. Regina was all hot silk; sweet like apple, but biting like lye. And he nearly sobbed when he realized that she was the most delicious thing he had ever experienced.

Although his mind kept screaming how much he didn't want her, his body and his words disagreed. James could feel the corduroy of his trousers begin to constrict and burn, painfully so. He let his tongue swirl and pressure around Regina's clit once more, and felt her tremble and shudder around him.

As his knees just barely allowed him to stand, James felt like he was in a tunnel. His ears almost shattered at the boom of Regina's post-orgasm chuckle. But looking at her, head thrown back, black hair shining burgundy in candlelight, skin glowing bronze, something in his already weakened brain snapped. His pants fell off his body with only an eager flick of his wrist.

"Lay down, please, Regina," the Prince droned out. The Queen took on a sideways smirk and settled herself down on the cold floor.

"Have you finally come around? Tsk. Such behavior from a famed and cherished Prince is outrageous," she placed her hand underneath her head and stared wryly at the ceiling.

"I want to fuck you senseless, your Majesty," his mouth spasmed, somehow forming words he'd never thought he'd say.

Even Regina was taken aback by the primitive, angry nature of his arousal, and she propped herself on her elbows to look in surprise at his face. His soft blue eyes looked like pure ice.

James simply had no control or free will. He fell down to his knees. His hands yanked Regina's thighs around his hips. He dove forward, missing his target, but then drilled himself into her with no warning. James didn't speak, and Regina only whimpered at the unexpected fullness within her. Calloused hands bit at dusky-tipped breasts and at round curves, spreading her further. Staccato thrusts caused James' pubic bone to grind against Regina's clit every time, and she let out a small yelp with each pleasurable hit. He felt her muscles spasm and shudder around him, and he reached deep into her core, but his body wouldn't let him come with her.

James was performing something superhuman, but it was not of the man's own needs. Regina clawed at his back and shoulders, and one of his thrusts lifted her off the ground, and she began to let out angry (yet satisfied) screams.

The Prince was exhausted, but he kept going further. He just wanted release and he could almost touch that bliss, but something was holding him back.

Regina yanked the Prince's face towards her, and in one breath, gasped, "Say it, James."

"Regina," he parroted out coldly.

"Louder, James."

"Regina," his voice bounced off the ceiling.

"Louder, James," the Queen rasped out.

"Regina…" Jame's voice shook the bars of the cell, the strange webbing sound of vibrating metal ringing in his ears.

Finally, he came screaming, and was able to breathe again. But it only felt like relief, not ecstasy. He rolled over next to Regina, his eyes virtually lifeless.

"Oh, Charming, you're always a satisfying plaything," she giggled. James remained quiet.

Moments later, he awoke to her slamming the bars shut, striding down the corridor in her nightgown, prized necklace still close to her breast.

The Prince was unaware of what exactly he had done, but was hyper-aware of the opportunity he had let slip by.