Robin's bleeding. It's all she's aware of even though the ballroom is dissolving into chaos around her. There's screams, shouts, swords meeting, bodies falling to the floor. And Robin is bleeding. They pull her off of him, the heroes (her friends) and they carry him away from all the noise that she cannot hear. Later she'll realize that they practically carried her along with him. Her limbs were useless, leaden. Why bother to walk when Robin is bleeding.

They lay him on the table and finally she can see through her fears. Her hands hover over the wound. He's in pain, straining against hands that try to hold him down so she can heal him, straining to reach for her to tell her not to.

To tell her so many things they've never said.

Her magic seeps out and she feels it instantly, recoils from the ice and flame that simultaneously rip through her body. This blade had magic meant for her, meant to destroy her. This blade is poison made to draw out her magic, rip it from her soul and leave her as broken and defeated. It's just; seems almost a fitting punishment for the countless lives she destroyed all in the name of vengeance toward the woman that now holds her hand and asks softy "What can we do?"

For the first time since she descended the staircase, Regina looks away from Robin. "I'm going to give it what it wants," she tells Snow with a voice still broken with breath that won't calm until Robin is no longer bleeding. "Tell the boys we love them if this doesn't work." She squeezes Snow's hand, hard enough she hopes to convey every once of love she's always had for the woman who never gave up on her before sending them all away in a swirl of smoke.

Robin is bleeding.

If she's going to do this, it has to be now. He's still in pain, but he no longer tries to sit. She brings her hand to his cheek, takes a selfish moment to run her fingers through his hair, to kiss the stubble of his cheek. I love you, is a breath that washes against his skin before the room fills with screams.

Agony. She doesn't know any other word for what this spell is doing to her. The moment she lets her magic flow, it latches on, pulling it out of her, turning it dark and ugly as it swirls around them. Just hold on, she tells herself over and over: every ounce it pulls from you, every scream, is a step toward saving her soulmate. Camelot's healers can handle the wound from the blade. He'll mend, she's confident, but she has to get the poison out of him and she will not stop until every drop is gone. He lays beneath her unmoving, but his eyes are wild with terror and locked with hers. There's a thousand questions in his gaze that she doesn't have the strength to answer.

She won't look away.

If this destroys her-and it very well might-his eyes should be the last thing she sees. A reminder that she loved, that she hoped, as she meets whatever awaits her on the other side of this life.

It stops as abruptly as it started.

She doesn't see the white magic exploding from her hands, basking the entire room, the entire castle, in its power. She doesn't see that Robin is no longer bleeding, that any mark on him has been erased by her power. She doesn't see the tree that was Merlin's prison burst into flames or the wizard walking unscathed from the fire. She doesn't hear Robin calling her name, shaking her shoulders when she can't see anything but an endless nothing. She doesn't feel his arms wrap around her as both their bodies crumble to the floor.

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He'd woken an hour ago, groggy and sore as hell, but very much alive. Regina was next to him, lying on her back, unmoving save for the slight rise and fall of her chest that told him they had both somehow survived. He'd reached for her on instinct, ran knuckles over her cheek, startling when he found her cold to the touch. He'd scrambled over her, pulling blankets from the end of the bed, tucking her in tightly to remove the chill. "It doesn't help," her hears Snow's voice from behind him, watches her arm reach over him and pull loose the cocoon he'd just made. "She hates being held down. I don't want her to wake up afraid." He knows that. Has half a mind to tell her that he is the one that shares her bed and soothes her nightmares, but there's a weary tenderness in Snow's eyes that tempers his outburst. "You've both been out for three days. She's been cold as ice. Believe me, Robin, we've tried everything to warm her. You weren't just next to her so we could keep an eye on both of you at the same time," she gives him a sad, understanding smile as she helps him to feet.

His head spins both from the new angle and with the burden of trying to piece together what had happened to them. It's only a few steps to the dresser, but on stiff limbs it feels like a mile and he slumps against it, knocking into the blade that rests on top. It hits him like lightning: the ball, the dance he never should have granted, Percival and this poisoned blade, Regina's eyes, Regina's screams. "What did she do?" he asks frantically because it ends there. Whatever happened he can't see past the those eyes that had stared at him with steadfast determination even as tears poured from them. "What did she do?" this time a whisper as he sits back on the bed and takes Regina's hand in his. There's no warmth,no press of her fingers back into his. He brings her fingers to his lips, presses gentle kisses into each knuckle, one to her palm, waits for the pulse of magic that always seems to save the heros, but it doesn't come. He leans over her, presses his lips to hers, but still she doesn't stir.

Snow's heavy sigh behind him, echoes his own. "I was really hoping that would work," she looks defeated as she sinks into the chair she's occupied for the better part of the day, keeping vigil, willing them to wake.

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"It was reckless!" Robin yells as he paces the small room above the diner. Three days and she hasn't woken, hasn't moved. Snow had told him what happened, what she knew about the blade and the poison that ran through him. How Regina likely sacrificed her magic to save him. It was madness. He'll be furious with her when she opens her eyes. Gods, he hopes he gets the chance to be right and properly furious with her. "How could you let her do this? You should have stopped her!" He yells in Snow's face, but the princess doesn't flinch.

"She sent us away, Robin. Transported us all the way back to Grannies. By the time we made it back to the castle you were both unconscious on the floor." Snow watches as Robin slumps onto the side of the bed. She's told him this before and she'll no doubt tell him again. He wants answers for why Regina is laying lifeless beside him and the fact that she loves him enough to give her life isn't enough. Ironic how he had no qualms about doing the same for her. "She's alive," she tells him for the hundredth time with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "She's strong. She'll come back to you."

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I'm just…" Robin buries his face in his hands. He knows he's being unfair, but there's no one else to direct his frustration at except the princess and himself. "She shouldn't have…"

"She loves you," Snow cuts in. She's been patient with him, overly so, but blame and guilt aren't going to help anyone. "You love her. You were both willing to die for eachother, but thankfully neither of you are dead." Robin only nods; there's nothing left to say. She's absolutely right. "Get some rest," Snow's voice softens once more. "She'll want you here with her when she wakes up and I'm not going to tell her that I let you worry yourself to death when she did what she did to save you." She pushes him back toward the pillows and he goes without protest, curling into Regina, tucking his face between her neck and shoulder. He brings his hand to rest above her heart; the steady beat under his hand has him asleep in moments.

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She's hot. Exceedingly so. She can feel sweat beading at her temples, the bend of her arm, the back of her neck. Her body feels heavy, as if all her blood has been replaced with lead, her own limbs weighing her down. She tries to open her eyes, but even her eyelids seem too heavy to control. Panic starts to churn in her gut, creeping up until she's gulping in air, thrashing with all her strength, but her body barely twitches. "Regina?" she hears her name. Robin. Robin is saying her name over and over, but he sounds so far away. It's like there's an ocean between his voice and her ears. "Regina, open your eyes." Clearer this time, closer. I'm trying, she screams to him and hears the whimper that escapes her lips. "You're okay. You're safe." Closer still, she can feel his breath against her cheek and his fingers...his fingers are in her hair swirling patterns against her scalp. Focus. Breathe. Her eyes peel open and it takes much more effort than it should, but the reward is worth it. He's there, right there with those deep blue eyes and those damn dimples staring down at her. "Welcome back, M'lady," his voice breaks as he continues to stare down at her, continues the the steady caress of his fingers. He's crying. Why is he crying? Her breath quickens again thinking of everything that could have happened. The possibilities for heartbreak are endless: Henry, Roland, Snow, any of them. Are they dead, is she herself dead? She looks around frantically trying to figure out where they are, nothing looks familiar except the man hovering over her. "It's okay, it's okay," he shushes away the panic he sees in her eyes. "Everyone's okay. We're still in Camelot, you've just been asleep for a bit. Everyone's okay," he says it over and over until she believes him, until his hand slips from her hair to wipe away tears she hadn't realized she was crying.

"May I help you," he asks, slipping an arm behind her shoulders and slowly scooping her up. She groans at the slight movement; everything hurts, her muscles are tight, her body still feels so heavy.

"Wait," she manages to croak out. Thank the gods he's only a breath away from her or he wouldn't have stopped her assent, wouldn't have shifted her so she was still mostly reclined, but lying against his chest instead of the pillows. This is good. This feels good. They should just stay here. She manages to lift her arm (a herculean effort) and run it over his chest, down to his stomach where he was bleeding. His hand covers hers almost instantly, guides her under his shirt and back up to rest against warm skin and solid muscle.

"Not a scratch," he kisses the top of her head as her fingers roam against his healed skin. "You saved me."

"Poison...the blade was..."

"Very sharp, and yes, very poisoned," he holds her tighter. She's a little more awake, her limbs a little less sluggish, but she's still unfocused as she tries to put everything in order. To that he can certainly relate. "From what Snow tells me, you sent them away then somehow lured the poison out of me with your magic." He feels her nod against his chest and they both go quiet, content for the moment just to be alive in each other's arms. "I never would have asked you to do that," he whispers low, the vibration against her ear makes her shiver. "Your magic is a part of you, it's…" He doesn't have the words to finish so he holds her tighter still, hoping to convey what he cannot say.

Her magic. It makes sense now, this strange feeling inside of her. It's not heaviness, not in the way she thought; nothing has been given to her, but something has been taken away. "You're part of me too. A part that I would very much like to keep." It's the most words she's said since she's woken and the effort of it takes her breath away.

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When she opens her eyes again, she's met with a mess of brown curls. Her little knight is snoring softly into her neck, both arms wrapped around her. She hears Henry laugh and Robin moan as cards are dropped to a table. "Little help?" she asks softly, not wanting to wake the boy on top of her, but she can't feel her arms and she really needs to move before she fuses to this bed. Robin is there in an instant, peeling his son away. The boy does not go willingly and she's reminded of all those nights in the Enchanted Forest where Robin had just given up and left his boy to sleep snuggled against the breast of the queen-a place he truly wanted to be. It takes a bit of coaxing from Robin, some squirming from Regina and even Henry reaching in to ease his brother's fingers out of Regina's hair, but they manage to free her.

Henry hovers at the edge of the bed. His hand is over hers, but he wants more. Still navigating this place between boy and man, he's not quite willing to reach for her. He doesn't have to wait long. Regina rolls on her side, pulling him to her chest and her boy's emotions are finally set free. "You were asleep for a really long time," he hiccups into her shoulder.

Robin watches her from the corner of the room as she soothes her son, assures him that she's still here, that she loves him more than anything. There's still much to tell her, much he needs her help to understand.

There's a soft knock at the door, a man enters smiling and nodding to Robin, tousling Roland's unruly curls. "The Savior has awoken," he sits on the edge of the bed Henry has just vacated. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Regina."

She looks hard at this men, searches her memory for him, but comes up empty. Her eyes flit to Robin who is smiling at her, to Henry who does the same. "I'm not the Savior," she says quickly. Whoever this is obviously hasn't heard the news of her attempted masquerade. She's surprised Robin hasn't told him since clearly this stranger and her thief has spent some time together as she slumbered.

"You were mine so I feel the title still fits," he extends his hand in greeting and Regina takes it hesitantly, startling at the magic she feels pulsing at the man's fingertips. "My apologies, we've not been introduced. My name is Merlin and if you'll allow me, I'd like to help regain your light magic. I owe you that much and so much more for freeing me from that priston."

Regina sits up straight in the bed, still sore, but less and less with each passing moment. She looks to Robin again, he's still staring, still smiling. "My magic is dark and either way it's gone. I can't feel it anymore," she tells him. She trusts him because they do, knows Henry and Robin wouldn't let anyone cause her harm.

"Your dark magic is gone, yes. Sacrificed to save the one you love. But the light is there, Regina. Trust me; trust yourself and you'll be more powerful than you ever were before." He takes her hand again and again Regina feels that pulse of magic, but now realizes is wasn't coming from him. Her eyes lock with Merlin's, the wizard nodding at her silent questions. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow we help your friend and we help you." He bids them goodnight, making is way out of the room, Henry does the same soon after, lingering a bit longer than normal at the kiss his mother places to his brow. Roland still snores softly on the couch, completely oblivious to the world around him.

She reaches for Robin and he's at her side in seconds, both leaning against the headboard and into each other. "I don't understand any of this. I've only used light magic that one time, only when you held my heart. I've tried and tried to replicate it, but it never worked. I don't know how I survived the poison; I don't how I freed him; I don't…"

"Shhhh," Robin scoots down bringing her with him. "I have a feeling you'll get all your answers tomorrow. Snow says Merlin has been helping us since the moment they brought us back here. I think we can trust him to help you figure all of this out."

"I know, but…"

"Regina, I don't care," he cuts her off, holds her tighter. "I'm sorry, but I don't. You're alive. I'm alive, the boys are alive, and tomorrow the most powerful wizard of all time is going to help us figure everything out. Can't that be enough for tonight?" His fingers weave into her hair, twisting around curls and tracing up and down the back of her neck.

"Okay, thief," she lets herself relax into him, lets her eyes slip shut and his finger ease the troubled thoughts in her head. They're alive. It's enough. They've been given another chance at tomorrow.