A/N: Should be canon-consistent, with an exception: Zelena and her monkeys still occupy the castle, because Regina living in the woods was an opportunity too wonderful to pass up.
Robin drew away slowly, his breathing shallow and irregular.
"Apologies, milady. I do not know what came over me."
Regina's eyes were still closed but they shot open as his hands disentangled from her hair and he took several generous steps back, inviting enough space for her to be able to think properly again. "Temporary insanity, no doubt," she snapped, but her voice didn't bite as hard as she'd intended. In fact, it sounded downright breathless. Damn it.
She allowed herself a brief glance up at his face and immediately regretted it. The most outrageous hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, which still held trace but telltale signs of having just been thoroughly kissed, and she found she could not bring herself to look away even as her blood continued to boil.
"I can assure you it won't happen again." And yet, he somehow still had the audacity to look amused.
"And I'm supposed to take your word for it," Regina said incredulously. To her relief, the words come out more evenly this time. She barked out a laugh. "On your honor as a thief."
Robin Hood regarded her for one long moment, his eyes a maddeningly brilliant, crystalline blue in the dying daylight. They traveled slowly over her face, and then to her lips, lingering. "Perhaps that is the idea…your majesty."
Regina felt her retort lodge somewhere in her throat.
A full-blown smile threatening to emerge now, he spread his arms wide and dipped his body down into a low, mocking bow. Upon rising, he winked at her dumbfounded form before turning away and striding leisurely off into the trees.
Regina arrived back at camp with as much grace as she could muster while trudging through a thick blanket of mud on the ground, a squelch in each step. She'd been so entirely distracted by the events that had just transpired in the woods, she'd apparently taken the long way back. A long way that had left a deep layer of grime caked to her riding boots and her cape looking beyond help.
Insolent man. And that smirk…
She peeled off one of her gloves and was poised to magically scour away what she could of her mud-wrestling expedition when she realized that her hands were trembling.
"There you are!" A voice called to her from the camp's outer perimeters, where a steady rotation of fairy tale folk had been stationed around the clock for "protection." Regina's jaw clenched in a spasm of frustration. For several weeks now she had been forced to slum it in the woods with all manner of ridiculous people, but of course it had to be this one in particular with the most inconvenient timing. And she was feeling minimally tolerant of ridiculousness at the moment, having had her fill of it with the recent inexplicable actions of one hooded outlaw.
Squaring her shoulders, Regina braced herself for the impending heart to heart that every conversation with her one-time stepdaughter seemed to turn into these days—conversations replete with stupid knowing looks and pregnant pauses and unspoken sentiments of sympathy, all of which were thoroughly unwelcome to her.
"Regina—" Snow White came to a comical halt as she took in the singular sight of Regina standing there, knee-deep in sludge yet somehow every bit as regal as ever, with the air of one personally affronted that there was mud where she'd chosen to place her feet. Snow looked bemused, then contemplative. Finally, she appeared to change her mind about whatever she'd originally planned to say and simply inquired instead, "Did something happen?"
Regina had been making an elaborate show of disinterest in her present company by brushing individual specks of dirt from her leather pants, but Snow's question gave her—and a perfectly arched eyebrow—some pause. "What makes you think something happened?" She subconsciously raised a glove to her lips and then, struck with a sudden awareness of what she was doing, dropped her hand back down like it had just been burned. "Nothing happened except that I…went…for a walk." This was at least half true.
Sensing her time would not be productively spent in pressing the issue, Snow assumed a more neutral stance, with a shrug and a smile of polite indifference. She had of late taken to humoring the Evil Queen whenever possible to defuse potential confrontations from inconsequential origins. This moment didn't seem any less deserving of such tactics than the others—of which there had been many, with Regina perpetually on edge ever since their return to the Enchanted Forest, like the string of a bow that had been pulled taut to a point just shy of snapping in two.
Even so, this time there was the slightest shiftiness to her gaze, the additional nanosecond it took for her to regain full composure, that made her look…positively guilty about something.
"Well," said Snow casually, "now that you're back, there are some things that I think the group is eager to discuss."
Reality caught up with Regina. Right. Things like dealing with the Wicked Witch—her half-sister, for gods' sake—and that preposterous band of flying monkeys. Things that should have been the foremost preoccupation of her thoughts, not some infuriating man with a penchant for thievery and shooting at things with pointy sticks.
"In that case, you'll have to excuse me for a moment," Regina said stiffly, extricating her cape from the quagmire and whipping it across her shoulders in a poor attempt at a grand exit. "I need to go change."
Once she made it without any further delays back to her tent, which had magically undertaken the features of a luxuriously furnished bedchamber, Regina finally began to appreciate the rapid thudding of her heart against her chest. In the silence of her quarters, the rush of blood coursing through her body with each pulse was deafening.
Passing by her full-length mirror, she gave a start to see exactly how much of a hot mess she must've looked to give Snow such pause. Filthy boots notwithstanding, her updo had been nearly undone, twigs and bramble clung to every exposed inch of fabric, and her lipstick was…in places where it was most certainly not supposed to be. Unbidden memories broke through the dam she had mentally erected, flooding forcefully to the surface—Robin Hood threading his fingers through her hair; her back being slammed unceremoniously into a tree; her hands grasping at his cloak to push him away yet pull him impossibly closer; his mouth angling firmly against hers to deepen the heated contact between—
With startling vehemence she tore at the elaborately jeweled collar encasing her neck, which suddenly felt very heavy. She ripped off her cape and struggled to untie the corset underneath, fumbling over its intricate detailing of hand-sewn gems and precious stones. The utter uselessness of these extravagant things struck her as acutely as if she had just received a fireball to the stomach. At the height of her reign, her glorious wardrobe had only served to elevate her sense of identity with the power it asserted, but now—when she had never felt so irrevocably broken on the inside—as though her very soul had been fractured beyond repair—it was like a dark, deceptive weight upon her already dark, dark heart. It demanded of her a self-entitlement she no longer possessed and then seemed to broadcast all her weaknesses to the world, magnifying them ten thousand fold through every diamond facet of her gown like a distorted kaleidoscope of horrors.
Her remarkably disheveled reflection was glaring murderously out at her. In that moment, she felt just as exposed as if she had taken to wandering camp in nothing but her undergarments.
A strange sensation gripped at her and squeezed, tightly and unyieldingly. She had to disguise her vulnerability somehow. She couldn't allow him, or anyone, to catch her off guard like that again.
Regina emerged with impressive calm and a steely, indecipherable look upon her face. She had let her hair down in all its long natural glory, cascading across her back in dark, loose waves that looked almost golden where the glow of the sunset touched them. She wore a simple muslin dress infused with a deep, rich purple. Layers of delicate ivory lace silhouetted the bodice, peeking out from underneath the three quarter length sleeves and along the hemline of her skirts, which gathered in a soft, crinkling whisper just above the toe of her freshly scrubbed riding boots.
In dressing she had been consumed with the desire to blend into obscurity, for the others to see through her for a change and banish all unpleasant reminders that the Evil Queen was living in their midst. Walking towards the group gathered around the main campfire, she realized the miscalculation in her efforts as soon as she felt the heat of Robin's scrutiny. Somehow, she dared to turn her head in his direction. The smirk had all but vanished. In its place, he was slack-jawed and openly staring at her with something akin to profound disbelief. His gaze traveled slowly up her figure, and when his eyes met hers at last they were burning with such a fierce, raw hunger that it nearly took her breath away.
The intensity of his stare more or less pinned her feet to the ground. She couldn't bring herself to move any closer lest the others were to notice the hitch in her breathing or the furious pounding of her heart. How could anyone else not hear it? But they were all engrossed in Charming's heartfelt speech regarding, no doubt, things like hope and teamwork and unity. When she felt reasonably collected enough to steal another peek at Robin, he was no longer looking her way, but one gloved hand was clenching and unclenching at his side in a mesmerizing rhythm. She felt feverish and lightheaded. Words floated halo-like around her head in an incomprehensible haze, and she heard her own voice at some point provide some strategic input from a magical standpoint, but her mind wandered far, far from her body and the only thing she could focus on with perfect clarity was the flexing of Robin Hood's fist.
The campfire slowly cleared as people retired for the evening. Regina was engaged under the pretense of deep conversation with Charming to clarify certain aspects of the group meeting, all the while monitoring Robin's every move in her periphery. When a small hooded cloak on legs materialized at his waist and began tugging him away at the sleeve, she was unsure whether the shaky breath she took was one of disappointment or relief. She watched as Robin Hood and his boy disappeared into a throng of tents. After Charming excused himself at the behest of an impatient-looking Grumpy hovering nearby, she slowly approached Snow, who was warming her hands over the fire.
Regina stated without preamble, "He kissed me. That is all."
Snow almost fell right off the log. Despite her best efforts she couldn't keep the shock out of her response. "He did?"
Regina's head swiveled downward. "Who's he?" she asked with no small amount of force and an inadvertent accusation in her tone.
"Wait…what?" Snow's brow furrowed. "Did he, or didn't he?"
This conversation was becoming absurd.
Regina began to reconsider the sanity behind her decision to confide in Snow and was about to make some excuse to leave when she felt that niggling sensation in her chest again. This doe-eyed fool with her fanciful ideals of "good always prevails" had talked her out of burying her heart in the dirt not too long ago. At the very least she could help her figure out what to do given that it was her fault she was now stuck with it.
She gingerly took a seat next to Snow, determinedly avoiding eye contact. There was a prolonged moment of silence as words fought to make their way out.
"He did," Regina said at last. If Snow wanted more than that simple confession then she could just deal with the disappointment. Regina wasn't even clear on what details she could reliably fill in; one second she had been violently attacking him with her words, and the next he had chosen to retaliate by attacking her with his lips. She still couldn't make any sense left or right of the situation, except that she ought to have taken his head off. An unfortunate oversight.
"I see." Snow paused. She happened a sidelong glance at her companion, whose gaze was stubbornly directed off at some distant point through the trees. Although Regina was being extremely tight-lipped about the whole matter—Snow suspected this exchange would prove not at all unlike talking to a tree branch, or pulling teeth, or both—the Queen had intentionally sought her out. Which had to count for something.
"I've seen the way you look at each other."
Regina immediately opened her mouth to protest, but a morbid curiosity had taken hold and denied her the capacity to interrupt.
Snow appeared deeply amused. "What I mean to say is that if looks could kill, I have no doubt he would be six feet underground right now. But you…"
"What about me?" Regina retorted.
"I think you know," said Snow simply.
Regina felt her chest constrict, not unpleasantly, at the thought that Robin Hood's…awareness of her had not gone unnoticed by others. But how could anyone…? She had admittedly had no conscious notion of it herself until about two hours previously. What exactly had Snow seen before that Regina hadn't? She desperately wanted to know and could never bring herself to ask.
But then again, maybe she wouldn't have to. Snow had a special knack for discerning things that Regina tried to keep hidden, even from herself. Maybe if she waited this conversation out long enough then Snow would—
"I talked to Tinker Bell," Snow said bluntly.
"You what?" Regina could not possibly have been more astonished than if Snow had just declared that her secret hobbies included casting curses and spinning straw into gold. No, forget about astonished; she was absolutely incensed. Casting a glance around to ensure that nobody was within earshot (Charming and Grumpy were still close by but talking very animatedly to each other), she leaned forward and dropped her voice by several octaves. "You were gossiping with a remedial fairy about my love life? What does she even have to do with any of this?"
"You know, Regina, she had some interesting things to say," Snow stated, and there was a sudden sternness lining her voice that made Regina feel, much to her disdain, like she was being lectured, of all things.
"I can't imagine what that could be," Regina said coldly. Of course, this was not anywhere near the ballpark of true. Her fingers clutched involuntarily at her dress as her mind transported her back to a place and a time that had long since been surrendered to vague inclinations of bitterness and regret. The man with the lion tattoo lifted his pitcher of ale for a refill, his back still turned to her. The man with the face she would never know—whose chance at happiness she had apparently ruined all those years ago, along with her own.
"Regina?" Snow's touch was light but solid on Regina's arm, gently interrupting her reverie of nameless what ifs. "I understand that you and Tinker Bell have a…complicated history." She smiled at the irony. "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
"Well, if you want to be technical about it, I only tried to kill you." It felt utterly bizarre yet rather liberating to say these things to Snow White with the cadence of a joke rather than a death threat. "Tinker Bell just lost her wings because of me." Just lost her wings. Just an understatement. Draining away years on revenge like chips at a casino had desensitized her to some of the more verifiably horrific deeds she had done in her past to justify an end. But with that end turning out to be the loss of her son—and with her heart still embedded securely within her ribcage—she felt defenseless against the guilt and remorse catching up with her.
"I promise that we're not ganging up on you, Regina." Snow's ability for making everything sound as urgent as life or death was really remarkable. "I just want you to understand that, despite everything"—despite everything you've done, was the implication Regina endeavored in vain not to hear—"that's happened, you can't give up hope. Not here, not now."
"In case you haven't noticed," Regina said, cutting and caustic, "I've lost Henry. Forever. We'll never be able to find our way back to each other again. Maybe that's a concept that you and your precious Charming can't comprehend, but 'here and now' is the last possible place I would ever allow myself to indulge in something as ridiculous and futile as hope." She spat out the last word like it was a poison.
"But that's exactly my point," Snow stressed. "You can't abandon hope now, not when you need it the most. Tinker Bell said—" Regina scowled before she could stop herself, earning a pointed look from Snow before she continued, "Tinker Bell said there was a time when your heart was open to the possibility of finding love and happiness again. But something stopped you."
Here we go, Regina thought. Her talk with Tinker Bell back in Neverland had been heinous enough to endure; she did not exactly relish this second occasion to air out all her past self-defeating grievances and then be reprimanded for them. To Snow's credit, though, she gave no indication that she expected Regina to elaborate on what that something had been. "Whatever it was, Regina, you can't let it win again. You're not the same person you were back then. You've changed."
"The only thing that's changed is I'm trapped in this godforsaken fairy tale land again and I have a black hole for a heart that I'd be better off without, no thanks to you."
"I don't think that's true," Snow said, shaking her head. "If you truly felt that you had no room left in your heart for happiness, you would have left it there in the ground—but you didn't. And that, Regina, is hope. Everyone deserves a second chance, and nobody deserves it more than you. I believe that, and Tinker Bell—"
"Enough about Tinker Bell," Regina snarled. "She leaves the fate of the future up to blind faith and sows the seeds of that faith with empty delusions and pixie dust. What does she know about any of this?"
Unfazed by her outburst, Snow only shrugged. "I'd say at the very least she knows a thing or two about second chances." When Regina had nothing to say in response, Snow reached out again and gave her arm a feather-light squeeze. "We just want you to be happy." A beat. "And Henry would want that for you too."
"Well it's not something I want," Regina said harshly. "It…" The severity trailed away with her voice. "I can't let it."
"Maybe it's not something you want," Snow conceded. "Maybe not right now. But have you ever thought that maybe it's something you need?"
Regina stole through a sparsely wooded area near the outskirts of camp, pointedly ignoring the small voice reminding her that this was exactly how she'd stumbled into her current predicament in the first place. She supposed there was just something about Sherwood Forest that seemed to paralyze all her mental faculties and make her prone to impulsive and regrettable behaviors.
Lost in the recollection of her conversation with Snow, Regina absentmindedly brushed at a thicket that was snatching persistently away at the lace of her sleeves. A loud squawk erupted from within the bush. An indignant-looking bird emerged from between the leaves to glare reproachfully at Regina before spreading its wings and taking flight.
In her shock and momentary conviction that she was about to be attacked by another damn flying monkey, Regina tumbled forward and lost her balance. Her arms shot out to brace her fall, but instead of making contact with the ground she landed with an oomph against something that was, hmm, just as solid, but most definitely standing upright.
"If I didn't know better, your majesty, I'd dare say you've returned for more." The teasing and all too recognizable lilt in her ear confirmed the horrible suspicion that the firm, hard body she had just stumbled into belonged to none other than Robin Hood.
Wonderful.
"Well if I didn't know any better, I'd say your head is filled with hot air, though I'm sure that's hardly a stretch from the truth. Let go of me, you idiot." Regina squirmed against the stronghold his arms had formed to prevent her fall.
His grip did not let up.
"I have better things to do than to fraternize with thieves," she hissed, in case he had gotten the wrong idea. Again.
"What is it that I've taken from you?"
His iron embrace had brought her face uncomfortably close to an expanse of exposed chest where the top of his tunic had been left unbuttoned, rendering her temporarily speechless. Even if she had room to maneuver and tilt her chin up to see it, there was no need; she could practically hear the damn smirk in his voice. "What?"
"If you're to accuse me of thievery, surely there must be something in particular you had in mind. Something you've lost, perhaps, that you've taken to searching for here in these woods?" His chest rumbled as he spoke and his distinct scent of maple, honey and pinewood consumed her senses, distracting her to the point that his question took an extra couple of seconds to process.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm on the verge of losing my mind the longer I stand here wasting my time with you," Regina groused. She contemplated the logistics of lobbing a fireball right into his smug face, but her fist was caught between their bodies, pressing directly into his abdomen, and removing it was going to be a chore. She gave an experimental wriggle but stopped abruptly when the motion only succeeded in causing his entire frame to stiffen and his arms to tighten even further around her.
He had an annoying habit of completely disregarding her whenever she threw such insults at him. "What are you looking for, Regina?" It was so exceptionally rare for him to address her by her real name that she looked up at him in surprise—and nearly swore that it would be the last thing she ever did. The surrounding trees filtered out the moonlight and cast shadows across his face, but the blues of his irises were bright and molten. They were regarding her with an irresistible warmth and quiet fascination, inviting her to fall deeply and fearlessly into an ocean full of enchanting opportunities. She could not recall the last time anyone had looked at her like that.
"What is it that you've lost?" he asked again, softly, tenderly.
"Nothing that wasn't of my own doing," Regina whispered, and her shoulders lost the tension that her defensive posture had brought them. Her eyes were held captive by his, as though spellbound, but when she spoke his gaze broke contact and darted down to trace the outline of her mouth. His face was close, too close.
Everyone deserves a second chance—
—and nobody deserves it more than you.
Heart hammering, she bridged the gap and pressed her lips tentatively to his. He responded instantly, one hand brushing down her back to grip her at the curve of her hip, while the other reached up to cradle the side of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. Somewhere between the campfire and the clearing where they now stood he had discarded his gloves, and the rough caress of his calloused thumb against her skin delivered a shockwave right down to her toes.
His kisses were hot and swift, almost impatiently so, in a manner suggesting that he anticipated her to shove him off at any moment and fully intended to steal as many as he could get away with before she did. When she only hummed her approval, his pace gradually slowed, lips dragging languidly across hers like a sensual promise. A heady moan threatened to escape her then and she pulled back slightly, their foreheads still touching, her breathing labored.
Robin seemed at equal loss for adequate oxygenation. He tilted his chin forward as though about to kiss her again, but changed course to rub the tip of his nose along her cheek. When he spoke at last, his voice had taken on a raspy low tenor. "I rather enjoy your hair like this." The light brush of each word tickled her skin like ghost kisses. A finger grazed her jawline and entwined with a single loose curl framing her face. She shivered almost imperceptibly at the gentleness beneath his touch.
"Why are you doing this?" The sudden, unexpected plaintiveness that crept out stunned her and generated a deep, searing ache within her chest. Mortified, she made to turn her head but his hand had already grasped her chin, coaxing her gaze back to his.
For one stormy second her brown eyes blazed in a silent challenge—baiting him to gloat over having the upper hand, to bask in her vulnerability, to further her humiliation—but he would not engage. Finally he must have detected something in her back down, just enough, and he broke out into quite a devilish smile. "Unfortunately I cannot speak to what occurred just now, considering the fact that your majesty was the one who kissed me." She reared away and positively glowered at him. The outer corners of his eyes crinkled mischievously. "As for earlier…" He leaned back in with a conspiratorial air. "I simply couldn't resist shutting your royal mouth up for a change."
"Excuse me?"
Declining to reply, Robin awarded her instead with another infuriating grin (which she now firmly resolved to wipe off his face no matter the cost) before capturing her lips once more. A feeble protest died into a stifled groan and she felt her hands act against her will to run up his chest and curl a finger into the V of his shirt, pulling, pulling, pulling. She felt the buttons give way, granting her palm access to rest over his steadily beating heart. His mouth moved hungrily over hers, opening to invite her tongue in.
For the first time in a long time—as long as she allowed herself to remember—she felt as weightless as a cloud, her mind blissfully blank but for the thought that she would surely float away were it not for Robin's embrace anchoring her body to his. As if to prove her point he lifted her up at the waist, with the same fluid ease she had on more than one occasion witnessed him use to handle his bow and arrow, and set her down on a thick patch of roots at the base of a tree, elevating her to a head's height above him. He pressed his body flush against hers and leaned up and in to her kiss, a stabilizing thigh nestled at the juncture of her legs with tantalizing friction. Her arms came up to lock elbows around his shoulders, hands seeking purchase on the sinewy muscles of his back; she felt them ripple under her frantic touch, tense and strong. Fingers weaved into his hair and gave a sharp tug, craning his neck back even further as she kissed him, open-mouthed and unreserved, shamelessly relishing every inarticulate, guttural sound reverberating from deep in Robin's throat, greedily demanding more.
Regina was deliciously hyperaware of every slight stimulation of her senses, from the tree bark digging exquisitely into her back to the swell of her breasts coming into intimate contact with Robin's chest and—oh—oh—the coarse palm of his hand. His other hand relinquished its bruising hold on her hip to run down her skirts, grabbing and hitching her thigh upward around his waist. She gasped into his mouth when his maneuvering brought an unmistakable, hard length to her attention, and her hips rolled against it almost of their own accord. Robin jerked at the sensation and tore his lips from hers, a pronounced raggedness to his breathing. Without pausing to recover he dipped into the crook of her neck, spreading open-mouthed kisses across her flushed skin like wildfire. Regina's head lolled back against the tree, her eyes closed in agonizing pleasure. His hands felt like hot irons branding her body; she never wanted to stop burning.
She deemed it entirely possible that she would soon awaken and find herself back in her tent, all disturbingly hot and bothered, having dreamed up this whole encounter. She shuddered when she felt again the evidence of how badly, how desperately he wanted her pressed into her inner thigh, and her core throbbed with a longing she thought forever lost to her. It didn't seem appropriate or fair to feel this damn wickedly good.
Robin shifted her body around like a rag doll once more and his sleeve caught in the bramble that had tripped her up earlier. The fabric tore along its seam—no matter, the remainder of his shirt was about to meet the same fate at her own hands—revealing something dark underneath, and Regina almost as an afterthought glanced down to see—
—but no, it couldn't be—and yet, there it was—a coat of arms inked into his flesh, bearing a lion reared up on its hind legs—it shimmered in and out of focus as Regina's vision clouded and the blood rushed from her face, leaving it clammy, cold, ashen.
She staggered away.
The man with the lion tattoo stood before her, the heated look of desire etched out plainly on his face growing more and more perplexed with each passing second of excruciating silence. Perhaps it had been too good to be true, this moment between them lasting as long as it did. Perhaps it was a miserable blessing in disguise that they hadn't gone any further before she discovered his true identity. Perhaps it was all just another cruel game the universe had been playing to torment her, to remind her that no matter how entitled she felt to a second chance, a happy ending was never meant to be her fate.
"Regina," Robin Hood said cautiously, his voice rough at the edges. He took a step forward.
She took three back.
"Don't come any closer," she said with more nastiness than she felt. "Unless you intend to meet an early end with a fiery demise."
"Back to this, are we, then?" Robin crossed his arms. His lips were set in a sharp thin line, and his eyes held none of their previous mirth. "With you hurling your empty threats and—"
"Empty?" Regina let out a humorless laugh. "Test my patience again and we shall see how hypothetical a fireball feels when it's turning you into a pile of ashes."
"Stop this, Regina. Stop running." His hand ran across his stubbled jaw in abject frustration. She ached to do the same. "Stop pushing me away, stop hiding behind your magic and your evil pretenses. Answer me truthfully. What is it that you are so afraid of?"
You, she wanted to say. You and whatever you are supposedly destined to be to me. She felt her eyes drawn downward and halted their troublesome gaze somewhere near the belt of his quiver slung across his abdomen; innocent enough (she refused to reminisce about how it had felt jutting into her belly and—damn it). But she would not, could not, let herself look at the lion tattoo again. Briefly she wondered if Tinker Bell had seen it too since they'd been back in the Enchanted Forest, if she had dropped hints that fueled Snow's own speculation about Robin Hood and his connection to Regina.
Did it really matter?
"We're done here, thief." Her nose upturned in characteristic evil regal fashion, and her words chilled in a manner that would have made the famed Snow Queen proud. So, as it turned out, she didn't need her gowns or jewels or fancy headdresses to channel her more diabolical side, to coat her words with such venom, to play the role of the Evil Queen that she had written for herself.
And yet, in the time that he had known her, he had never once looked at her like she was a true villain. Not when they had first met and he had saved her from the flying monkey; not when they had first worked side by side to break into her own castle and he had put a target for his arrow on her head, she a magical chokehold around his neck. If memory served correctly, even he had been convinced then that Regina deserved a second chance, just like everyone else.
Not when he had first kissed her and she had been a royal, contemptuous pain in his ass; not even just now, when she had been the one to kiss him and he had held her, touched her, regarded her as though she were something precious and rare.
Which is why Regina almost certainly did not expect her frigid dismissal of him to prove so effective.
"As you would have it, then, my Queen." His voice held no trace of emotion. His body language gave away nothing. To her quiet despair, she could not tell if he had given up or merely given pause to the discussion for the time being—nor did she have any idea which conclusion would've offered her more comfort. But she knew, she just knew to her dark, rotten core, that if she allowed herself to look into his eyes one last time, she may never let him leave her sight again.
And then he was gone.
Snow was going to be very displeased with her.
What is it that you are so afraid of?
"Those who have nothing left to lose have nothing to be afraid of," she whispered in answer to the surrounding darkness, but the words sounded hollow and laced with resignation, even to her. But if she had let this…thing, with Robin Hood, whatever it was, go any further…then sooner or later she would have something to lose again. And that was no longer a luxury she could afford.
Not as long as she still had her heart, anyway.
A/N: So, I started writing this before the season finale happened, and forcing myself to finish it after was terribly bittersweet. I was almost too traumatized to continue. But I was so stuck on what possibly could've happened between Regina and Robin Hood in the Enchanted Forest to make her so…disinclined to be cordial toward him at the end of the year, which the show never fully addressed (by the end of this season, anyway), that I had to do something about it. Now I'm going to go eat gelato in bed and re-watch all my favorite Outlaw Queen scenes.