Leaves rustle as she sits on the bench beneath her apple tree. It's her only comfort and he knows this, the last piece of her son that she truly has.
They had their second real conversation underneath that tree. Their first had been underground, beneath the stones of the castle floor, the shadows of their faces dancing in tune with the flames of his torch. She'd said so little to him that day, but he remembered every word. The moment he laid eyes on her he knew she would change his life, their adventure into the castle was when he first started to understand why.
Their conversation under the tree was when he first started to understand her. It was months after the arrival of her sister, months of sitting at a war room table with the very people he'd stolen from years earlier to defeat a women with green skin and wicked smile, months of losses and revelations that had led to a final battle that would be forever etched in his memory. He'd been there, he'd seen the look on her face when she finally had her sister's heart in her grasp. There'd been glee in her smile but a deep sorrow in her eyes, a fearful realization hiding behind the mask of her victory as they carted off her sister. He saw it and remembered the night of their first conversation, the glimmer of a cursed needle in her hand and defeat in her voice. He remembered and was therefore hesitant to leave her alone.
The princess went into labor not long after the witch's defeat and as the castle celebrated the impending birth of a new heir, he watched as she slipped into the garden to sit beneath her beloved tree, the weight of her misery seen only through the depressed slant of her shoulders and stillness of her body as she waited for the bell to toll. To her displeasure he joined her, interrupting her solitude. Still she didn't push him aside, or send him away with a snap of her fingers, as he knows she could've. She allowed him to sit next to her, to talk and inquire about her well-being. Moonlight had gleamed on the skins of apples as they stared up at the branches of her favorite tree, the only thing in life she'd truly been able to depend on, she'd told him.
Her father had made sure it was planted the day she was born, an superstitious family tradition. Something to ensure that she grew up as strong, sturdy and infallible as the tree was born the same day she was. She'd sat beneath it ever since she was a little girl, it went wherever she went. From her childhood home, to the castle walls, to the land without magic and back, it was always close by. She could always trust her tree to provide her with shelter and peace, it would always be there. Unlike people. People were unreliable. They lied to her, abused her, ran away from her, disappeared… and died. She no longer trusts people, not like she trusts her apple tree.
"It's stood by me longer than anyone else," she'd softly whispered. "It's treated me better too."
The bell had rang, sending their both their eyes toward the castle tower where they knew the princess was holding her new child for the first time.
"Bets say it's another girl," he'd mumbled without thinking.
He still remembered the way her eyes had drifted to ground as she dejectedly looked toward the ground. "It's not, it's a boy."
"How do you know?"
"I know because nothing in my life is fair," she'd bit out, her voice wavering with grief as she avoided looking at him. With a wave of her hand she'd disappeared, leaving nothing but a cloud of smoke in her wake.
Regina hardly ever spoke of her son, not with him at least, but she missed him dearly, was always thinking of him. He could see it in her eyes everytime he caught her alone, every time the princess entered a room with that tiny baby boy laying in the crook of her arm. She hid it well from everybody but him. The child she lost was never far from the queen's mind, and therefore never far from his either.
The princess was the first person to ever tell him about Henry. Just his name at first. The subject wasn't easy for her to speak about either, not when it was attached to the boy's birth mother, the child that she hadn't so much lost as never got the chance to have. But little by little he learned, from the prince and the princess, and granny and the dwarves and the wolf. He learned of Henry and how he'd touched all their lives but none more than his mother's.
He caught her one night, chanting in front of her mirror, tears streaming down her face as she tried to catch a single glimpse of a land that was no longer within her reach. That night he learned the truth of what happened, the decision she made to save his life and their souls. That night he learned her son's birthday and swore never to forget it. He kissed her for the first time as she wept in his arms, a small, comforting gesture pressed into the hair on the top of her head, he doubted that she'd even noticed. The sun came up and she stayed in bed, unwilling to face the day, which he spent in a stiff armchair next to her bed, unwilling to leave her side.
The reason she didn't send him away still eludes him to this day.
The only thing to give her a measure of joy that first year was his son. Roland was the one person in the castle she held a genuine smile for. She had endless patience for his antics and a glow about her in his presence. He's ashamed to admit it but he leaned into this realization. He often sent Roland into the queen's path, always with requests for time spent together, games play, adventures had. She never denied him, she couldn't. It's why she hid.
One day in the middle of summer when sunlight was fierce and breezes scarce, Roland had shuffled dejectedly into his room, unable to find her. After calming his son down and searching all through the castle wall, he only found her standing in the shade of her apple tree, calmly picking fruit from its branches. She saw him and though her expression was blank, he saw the anger behind her brown eyes.
"My son… is not replaceable," she'd gritted out.
"I know," he'd mumbled.
"You can't shove your child in front of me and expect me to live for him, Robin."
"I don't want you to live for him, Regina," he'd said. "I want you to live, period."
His actions had never been about forging a bond between her and his boy, that was just a pleasant surprise. It'd been about bringing a smile to her face, giving her a reason to step into the sunlight and experience an actual moment of joy. It was about wanting her to realize that there could be more in her future than just drowning in her grief. He simply he wanted her to know that there were still moments left to live for.
With a clenched jaw, she'd lifted her chin in his direction. "And Roland?"
"There was no other option but to include him," he'd answered. "My son is the only person in the walls who you can stand."
He apologized for overstepping, promised to temper Roland's requests and bid her goodnight. From over his shoulder he'd heard her reluctantly mumble under her breath.
"Roland isn't the only person I can stand in this castle."
From there they'd just have small moments, glances from across the room, bits of sarcasm tossed from opposite sides of a council table. It wasn't as much as he wanted, but it was enough to ensure that he'd never leave. His men were growing restless, more than a few of them had asked why they hadn't already abandoned the castle with a few choice jewels hidden in the lining of their tunics and he'd brushed them off at every turn. How do you tell your trusted men that the reasons you've anchored them behind stone walls is a complex heart on two legs with a sarcastic mouth to boot. That a woman who seems to despise you in public, yet lean on you in private, has your heart so firmly in her clutches that the idea of taking a single step away from her has your stomach twisted in knots. It's not an easy thing to admit aloud.
Not for him at least.
It was during the last days of fall that she finally came to him. Soon frost would overtake the forest floor, snow would fall from the skies and it'd be too frigid to sleep outdoors so he'd chosen to camp with Roland just outside the garden so they could have one last chance to sleep beneath the night sky. As his son slept, he'd sat next to a burning campfire, stoking the flames, wondering if it was time for him to move on and let go, so deep in his thoughts he didn't even see her as she approached, the shimmering jewels on her black gown mimicking the stars above his head.
"What are you doing here?"
She'd shrugged, her brown eyes more vulnerable than he'd ever seen before as she whispered, "Living."
She'd kissed him for the first time, firstly clutching onto the fabric of his shirt, pulling his lips onto hers, not an ounce of hesitation in her decision. Stunned is too light of a word to describe how he'd felt. The air was knocked out of his lungs.
After that his nights were no longer spent on a forest floor.
They were spent between silk sheets and downy blankets, with hands on her body and lips pressed to her skin. They were spent having intimate moments of solitude that encompassed all things physical and emotional, quietly whispering about the pains and pleasures of their pasts, the things that made them into who they are and who they want to be. He learned more about her in the three weeks after their kiss than he did in the eighteen months that preceded it, including the significance of the tattoo he bore on his right arm.
Soulmate.
It seems like such a small way to describe what she is to him but he doesn't doubt it. Not for a second. He can't deny what he feels, how he feels connected to her. How her every emotion determines how easily he can breathe that minute. How all he can think about is what he can do to bring out that next smile, that elusive, satisfying smile that she saves for the moments that only exist between the two of them. She is his soulmate, and hearing it aloud is not a revelation, just a confirmation.
Nothing moves fast between them. Nothing has to and they know that. They've got all the time in the world and plan on using it.
It takes four months for them to bring their relationship into the light. Another eight months after that before he finally lets go of the Merry Men. (He can't be their leader anymore, not if it means leaving her side. They're upset but they understand.) Then things move even slower. It takes him five years to propose to her. He would've done it sooner, but he was afraid. Afraid that she'd say no, afraid that she wasn't ready, that she would never be ready after her first marriage. And most importantly, afraid that the sight of him with a ring in his hands would send her barreling in the opposite direction, away from him.
He was afraid.
But luckily… she knew that.
It was in the middle of the night. He was a light sleeper, as she'd long ago learned. He'd felt her the weight of her along his back and her chin lightly digging into her shoulder as she whispered into his ear.
"You can ask me. I won't run. I won't say no. I… am ready. For a future with you, I am absolutely ready. I promise… you can ask me."
Roland is the only one present when he asks. His son hands him a plain gold band, one he'd had made from the melted remains of the gold arrows she'd first given him when they'd initially met. A remnant of their past, a piece of their present and promise of their future.
She says yes to him and he couldn't be happier.
They plan for a small ceremony in the middle of spring. A big wedding wasn't what either of them wanted. It was meant to take place in the royal garden, beneath an arch below her beloved apple tree. Only family and dear friends present.
It was going to be perfect, he knew that… but the closer the day got the tighter a knot in his gut twisted.
Something wasn't right and he knew exactly what it was.
He would've told her but he didn't want to risk getting her hopes up, opening old wounds that still stung when picked at. There were only a few people he trusted with his quest. David, a few of his men and Belle, no one else. It took keeping his ear to the ground for months, bartering things he didn't have to people he couldn't stomach and keeping a secret from the woman he loved. It was hard. But he found a way.
He left the the day before their wedding, leaving a letter on his bed should he be unable to come back.
And now he's late to one of the most important days of his life, rushing to get back to a woman who he's sure is more than furious with him, so she can receive the one thing she wants more than him.
He finds her alone, sitting under the apple tree with their few guests long since dispersed. Her rigid back is to him and he can see her olive-toned skin glowing in the afternoon sun. Tendrils of her black hair fall against her neck, growing loose after hours pinned up in the elegant hairdo she'd had prepared for the day. Ruby earrings hang from her lobes matching the stain of her lips and the silk of her dress as she waits for him to appear. Her body is rigid. A glimpse of her profile tells him her jaw is clenched in anger.
She's gorgeous… and pissed.
He stands behind her, unsure of where to start.
"Sorry, I'm late?" he cautiously ventures.
He sees her suck in a deep breath, painfully shutting her eyes. "Go away Robin."
She deliberately pronounces each syllable, desperately trying contain her rage.
He nods, accepting her anger but still refusing to leave. "I'm sorry I wasn't here… but we couldn't get married this way."
"Why not?" she whispered.
"Because he wasn't here," he softly replies, allowing the young man by his side to step forward.
"Mom?"
That one word coming from her boy's lips is enough to send her spinning around. Her eyes immediately fill with tears as they land on the face of the one person she was sure she'd never see again, taking him in with disbelief. "Henry?"
It's him. It's her son, her little prince. Though not so little anymore. So much taller than she remembered, with sharper angles on his chain and hair that's darkened with age. His eyes haven't changed a bit though. Still hazel and hopeful, just as she remembered.
She has her arms around him in a flash, holding him close, dropping tears into the fabric of his gray hoodie. "Oh baby...I missed you."
"I missed you too mom."
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