unraveling the queen
[There's a dazzling sincerity in the way she connects with the outlaw. It's easy, relaxed even, she doesn't feel forced into fulfilling the expectations of others. She enjoys their banter, but doesn't depend on it-won't allow herself to. That is, of course, until that connection is the only thing fighting to keep her alive.] Post Pan's curse. Back in the Enchanted Forest. Rating will change.
disclaimer: i do not own once upon a time
authors notes: this was given to me as a prompt, and they asked if I could write a fic where Regina gets tortured. that will come in later chapters, this chapter is to set it up. for the sake of this story, Zelena is not present. As far as I'm concerned she's still in Oz.
She's a roamer, she's come to find out. Before the first curse, she'd never particularly enjoyed the confining walls of the dark palace but they had been bearable. She had her black knights and the occasional lover from time to time to keep her entertained. However, the transition from an eventful home-life with her son to the isolation of ruling(co-ruling with her stepdaughter and the prince she supposes) over the population of the Enchanted Forest was jarring to say the least. Sure, she has Snow and the Prince and the many others who found it fit to seek shelter in her castle, but when they're off living their happy lives together, that's when she feels more alone than ever. They don't need her. Not the way she wants to be needed. Not the way Henry used to need her.
Exactly two weeks ago, she cast a curse that brought the inhabitants of Storybrooke back to the Enchanted Forest, save Emma and her son. Over the course of her life, she's been put through some pretty painful events. This trumps them all. The pain that makes it's way into her heart every time her son crosses her mind is almost too much to bear. The thought that she will never see her precious baby boy's smile again, never hear him calling her his mom, never fixing his lunch before school or walking him to the bus…it's suffocating her. It's pressing down on her chest and forcing the air from her lungs in a way that has her bent at the knees, tears streaming down her face and an overwhelming urge to rid herself of that damned organ in her chest that seems to be the source of so much of her pain.
So she roams. Every morning before the sun rises until late at night after the sun has set and the moon is high in the sky, she walks until she's hopelessly lost, until she's made so many turns in her castle that she doesn't have the slightest idea as to where she is. And let's face it, she's never had a superior sense of direction, but she can't find it in herself to care much. Because what's there to go back to? This works for the first few days, serves as a welcome distraction. But you can only walk the same halls for so long until you grow weary and long for more.
That is how she finds herself venturing out into the cold, foggy air in the middle of the night. She doesn't know exactly where her feet are taking her, she finds that she doesn't particularly care. Wrapping the large cloak tightly around her small frame, she breathes the frigid air deeply into her lungs and releases it in a cloud of white vapor. She walks the path leading from one of the side entrances to her castle, lost in thought, and suddenly finds herself in her gardens. It's dark, the dead of night, but the moon is full tonight and casts its brilliant light upon the gardens, making it appear almost enchanted. Winter is slowly receding, she notes, and the blossoms of the Spring flowers are just beginning to bud. Despite her being away for an extended period of time, the garden is still living. It's verging on being overgrown, not nearly as kept up and maintained as it had been when she was Queen, but that somehow adds to its allure. It's wild and it's free and it's not confined by expectations. She decides she likes it better this way.
The sight makes her heart flutter and brings a small albeit sincere smile to her lips. The Redbud trees have just begun to blossom, the pink color of the buds casting a cheery glow as the trees line the garden, acting as a type of barrier from the outside world. She remembers how often she would come here when she was married to the King. It was like a safe haven, blocking out the rest of the world. As long as she was here she was safe. She would sit for hours under those trees and just think, sometimes cry, but the place always managed to calm her spirit, even if only for a short time. A variety of beautiful flowers ranging from red and cream tulips to violet lilacs to blue irises decorated the sanctuary. She walks over to a particular patch of flowers, the daffodils, and lightly lifts one of the drooping flowers, allowing her magic to flow from her fingertips into the flower. It instantly rights itself, drawing color and vibrance from the magic. The brunette hums softly in delight, going to the neglected flowers and bushes and following suit until the whole garden is as it should be: alive. She briefly wonders why she hadn't thought to come here sooner.
With a content smile, she wanders over to the center of the garden where a huge oak tree towers over her. It's old, it was here long before she became Queen and she allows her fingertips to run lightly up and down the bark before turning her back to it and resting against it. She slides down it slowly, her satin gown catching the rough bark as she does, and she thinks with a grimace how she would have never dared do this when she was married to Leopold. She knew she would be scolded for dirtying her nightgown and potentially tearing it. And if these thoughts make her press a little harsher against the tree, make her slide down it a little rougher, who's blaming her? She drops her head back until it's resting against the tree and lifts her gaze so she can marvel the stars that are decorating the sky. It's a clear night, no fog or clouds, and the stars radiate a brilliant light, their shine contrasting the darkness of the sky. She sits there for awhile, stares up at the stars for what seems like an eternity. Remembering the nights her father had taken her up on the hill behind their house, she tries to map out the constellations, pinpoint the few that he had tried patiently to teach his daughter. It's pointless, she realizes quickly, for the stars all look the same in the Queen's eyes and she sighs, thinks about possibly going to the library tomorrow and looking at a few books detailing the constellations. It will give her something to do at least, something other than twiddling her thumbs and walking aimlessly about the castle.
She's thinking of her father, of how they used to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night to look up at the stars, perhaps see a shooting one if they're lucky, both careful to not wake her slumbering mother, when a shadow catches her eye. Her head snaps to the left, eyes drinking in the scene around her, adjusting to the darkness. When the cloaked figure steps out of the shadows of the Redbud trees, his face catches the light of the moon and his blue eyes shine vibrantly, staring right back at her. She recognizes the man, thief, she amends quickly, and draws air deeply into her nose with a role of her eyes. Turning her head back right, she props it against the oak once more and closes her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, feeling the man's nearing presence rather than hearing it. He's deathly quiet in the way he moves, she notes. He's careful about his craft, you wouldn't hear him in the dead of night sneaking up on you and then he'd be gone, leaving you almost comically unaware that he was ever there to begin with. She cracks her right eye open ever so slightly, eyeing him as he walks over to a vibrant patch of irises, lightly trailing his fingers under the bottom petal before dropping it and moving on. He glances over her way, catches her staring at him, and a smirk falls over his features. Snapping her eye shut once more, she pretends to ignore the thief as he continues his merry way through her garden.
"Exploring," he replies after a beat, a hint of wonder in his voice although she can't imagine why. Perhaps it's simply the way he talks, she ponders but quickly shakes the thought away, because she most certainly does not care.
"In the early hours of the morning?" she says, doubt lacing her words. His smile quirks up a bit at the corners of his mouth, pronouncing his dimples even further. She doesn't know why, it wasn't even an overly humorous thing he said to her, but maybe it was a combination of the way he said it and the sleep deprivation finally taking it's toll, but she finds herself struggling to bite back a grin herself. Or maybe, she thinks, it's just that he has a contagious smile.
"I've always been a wanderer, your majesty," he explains, circling the garden slowly so he is directly behind the oak she is leaning against, and if she wished to gaze upon him as he spoke, she would have to crane her neck to do so. So she remains firmly in place and focuses on listening as he continues. "When I find it difficult to rest, I walk."
"Oh?" she begins, wary of his explanation just as she was wary of whether they should agree to allow him to accompany them in the first place. "And I'm just supposed to believe you are coincidentally unable to sleep at the same time I am? That you just so happened to cross paths with me by chance?"
"I don't believe in chance, milady," he informs her, making the full circle back around to the front of the tree and stopping to pluck a lilac from its place. A small grin breaks out on his face as he brings the flower to his nose, breathing in the sweet scent. "I was checking on my son. I just so happen to have the luxury of having a room that faces this part of your courtyard and you can imagine my surprise when I glance out the window to find the Queen wandering aimlessly at this hour." He walks over to her slowly, stopping just in front of her, waiting until she opens her eyes to offer her the purple flower. She stares at it, unimpressed, but accepts it anyways, taking it from his hand and bringing it to her nose in one fluid motion.
"So you're checking up on me?" she asks in a somewhat amused tone. She twirls the stem of the flower lightly between her thumb and forefinger, barely giving the outlaw a look when he takes another step forward and one to her left, turning around and allowing his back to rest against the bark. He sits next to her slowly, stretching his legs out and crossing his right over his left.
"Call it what you will," he replies simply and she fights the urge to roll her eyes behind her eyelids. "So what has you out here at this hour?" he inquires, and she sighs because she really is not in the mood to explain herself to this arrogant man, however endearing and persuasive he may be. "Is there something troubling you?" She doesn't reply, and he contemplates his next move, opening his eyes and staring up at the stars. "I find it's easier to bear your pain when you have someone to share it with," he continues after a brief pause, and she sighs.
"I do not wish to share my troubles with you, thief," she bites back, glaring at him through narrowly cracked eyes.
"Because you think they are petty or because you are afraid that someone might eventually figure out the great enigma that is her majesty?" he says, not missing a beat, and that just about does her in. Her eyes snap open and, in the moonlight, they glow a fierce shade of amber, golden flecks dancing in them.
"I don't remember giving you permission to speak to me in such a manner," she snarls, perhaps a little harsher than was necessary. But how dare he invade her space and then proceed to interrogate her as though he has already laid claim to her? He needs to learn his place.
"I just hate to see a beautiful woman like yourself adorning such a heartbreaking demeanor," he says, unaffected by her jest at him. She allows her shoulders to loosen a bit, leaning back against the tree once more, letting the cool air fill her lungs, all the while pretending like the fact that the outlaw calling her beautiful didn't send her stomach into a fit of butterflies.
"Yes, well," she says, sighing quietly as she closes her eyes once again. "Some things you simply cannot change, no matter your dislike for them." The words come out soft, vulnerable almost and she clears her throat quietly. He hums in some sort of agreement, she supposes, but remains quiet for a few more moments. When he opens his mouth to speak again, there is a twinkle of amusement in his eye.
"Do you stargaze often?" he asks her quietly, and when she provides him with nothing more than a furrow of her eyebrows, he chuckles softly. "When I approached you, you were staring rather intently at the sky." She breathes out a single laugh through her nose, an almost imperceptible smile dancing across her lips.
"I was attempting to locate the constellations," she explains, and decides whether she wants to elaborate. Apparently, her mouth has made that decision for her because she finds herself saying, "However, it has been quite some time since I last found them and I can't seem to remember where they lie."
"Ah," he says, nodding his head softly. "I would offer to show you but alas, it appears I am as uneducated as you are on the topic of the galaxies, milady." Her eyes snap open and she turns her head sharply to the side, her jaw dropping open slightly.
"Did you just call me uneducated, outlaw?" she asks sharply, and internally cheers smirks when it elicits the desired reaction from the man sitting beside her. His eyes widen almost comically as he stumbles over his words, attempting and failing in trying to right the wrong he has just committed. "Because that would be extremely unwise of you, my dear. Punishment would be unavoidable," she continues, a devilish gleam in her eyes. "Perhaps a trip to the dungeons." She spares a quick glance over at him and sees the weary albeit slightly doubtful look in his eyes. "No, there isn't nearly enough meat on your bones to feed you to my pet hydra, so a trip to the dungeon will do quite nicely, I think."
Robin rolls his eyes and scoffs, trying not to let his relief at not being on the receiving end of the wrath of the Queen show too much. He gathers his bearing quickly, turning the tables as he asks, "Did you just call me scrawny, your majesty? Because I most certainly resent that." He makes a show of flexing his bicep: like a child, Regina notes. "I am fairly in shape, thank you very much."
"That you are," she growls predatorily, and a smirk paints her features when he visibly gulps and diverts his gaze. She rolls her eyes and directs her attention back to the sky. The stars have begun to fade and the first rays of sun are just beginning to peak over the tops of the trees. With a quick exhale of air through her mouth, she braces her hands against the tree and stands slowly, allowing her muscles to adjust. Robin glances up at her questioningly, but she gives him no response before she turns on her heel and makes her way back to her chambers.
"I will see you at breakfast, your majesty," he calls after her, beginning to make the journey back to his room as well. His son will likely be waking soon, he always was an early riser. Her back is turned to him so he doesn't catch the way her mouth turns up slightly.
"I suppose you will," she calls back softly, and that he does catch, and it brings a small shake of his head from the thief, along with a smile.
Well, that's that. I hope you enjoyed. I am currently on break, so I will try to find time to update. Reviews are appreciated.