Word count: 3185
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Regina didn't know how, or why, she had ended up in this prison, limbo, purgatory, hell, or whatever it was- for she couldn't quite get a feel for her surroundings. There was just enough light for her eyes to see the six foot by six foot by seven foot cage she was in and nothing else. It wasn't as if she could really identify sounds either, for there was hardly any. Just one, a grating metal on metal sound that rang every hour (she presumed.) and almost made Regina forget that she couldn't quite breathe the heavy air. It was clogged down by a myriad of scents: the sickly, sweet smell of rot, the most prominent; the rotten, cloying smell of sulphur the next; and one she couldn't fathom, the musty smell of old books. There was nowhere in the Enchanted Forest, that she knew of, that held the sheer quantity of books needed to produce such a clinging smell. And there was no doubt she was in the Enchanted Forest- her clothes were still that of her queen entire; high stiff backed and ridiculously impractical.
One of her last memories (apart from living in a ditch for a few months) were of the short hike to the camp set up by the Merry Men. (Such a ridiculous name if you asked her, what need did they have to advertise their merriment.) Again her clothes had been highly impractical. They got stuck on every bush, branch and bracken they encountered and Regina had contemplated stripping herself of them completely if it wasn't for the fact she was being trailed by the entire populace of Storybrooke. No need to strike more fear into them by running as naked as a babe.
Regina huffed and tried to find an ounce of comfort on the stony floor. For once the long trails, she had stupidly insisted on as queen, came in handy, for use as a cushion of sorts. She was exhausted. She had foolishly tried, repeatedly, to puff her way out of the cage. But whoever had trapped her had not been stupid and had taken precautions against such a thing. Regina shuffled around again, there was no use being uncomfortable: she was going to be here a while.
A screech and the ripping of worn canvas echoed throughout the black night; startling Robin from his sleep. He cursed aloud. He shouldn't have fallen asleep; it was his watch and now, if anything happened it was his fault. He preferred to take the night watch and sleep during the day, it was the least he could do to protect everyone. After all they bought him back to his son. And to repay them he had fallen asleep, such a foolish mistake.
People bustled around, no one knew what had caused the dreadful sound but all were panicked. The entire populace of Storybrooke were currently living among his men- all of which were scared out of their wits. Robin groaned and hoisted himself atop a small log- it would give him the extra height needed to address the crowd.
"Everyone stop; we need to sort this out." He rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin and tried again, louder this time. "Everyone please report to," Robin looked around the encampment and caught the eye of one of his men, "Little John. Tell him of anything missing and when that is complete he'll reheat the stew, from last night, to keep you warm." Robin was surprised when everyone followed his orders and made a line in front of Little John; even the Charmings, who were the actual leaders of this vagabond group, were shuffling towards his man. They really hadn't been the same after they returned to the Enchanted Forest, shells of their former selves. They had just lost their daughter for the second time and their only grandchild. Robin felt for them, he didn't know what he'd do if Roland forgot him, and this world, completely.
Sobbing, a child's soft wails, sounded off to the right of Robin. None of the families seemed to be struggling to find their loved ones and Robin couldn't quite work out who the child may be. He thought, with a groan, that he should investigate the sound as everyone else seemed busy. The encampment was made, mainly, out of old canvas tents, always a family to each- apart from his. His tent had been given, willingly, to the Queen. She deserved the best and his was the finest of them all. Robin didn't mind, in fact he was glad, it meant that he could watch freely at night.
Roland hadn't minded the switch from his own tent to share with the Merry Men- he referred to it as 'one big sleepover'. At least Robin hadn't heard of any complaints.
The canvas tent, of which the sobbing was emanating, was Robins. Or he should say, the Queens. A gaping hole could be found in the roof of the tent and the main support pole seemed to be snapped in two. Robin groaned again, a frequent thing it seemed tonight. He reached out and hauled the ruined canvas out of the way. Objects, a mixture of his and the Queens, spilled out around the openning of the tent.
The child whimpered as its shelter was removed from him. "Roland?" Robin moaned out. Why was he in this tent? He should have been save with the others not cowering in fear. "Roland, why are you here?" The little brown haired boy flung himself from the wreckage at the sound of his father's voice. "Papa," the boy clung to his father's lose shirt, wiping his tear stained face against the rough fabric. "Papa it took her. It took Gina." Robin patted his son's hair gently, comforting him. Truthfully he didn't know that Roland was so fond of the former villain. He thought he would feel outrage at this, but truthfully he felt glad that his son had found her. She screamed maternal and was having a hard time losing her own son, maybe looking after his would help her.
The little boy's sobs didn't still as Robin rocked him. He didn't like seeing his son upset, Robin much preferred seeing his smiling, dimpled face- much like his own.
He placed his son on the forest floor, he had begun squirming slightly and seemed slightly happier after his father promised to find the Queen. Roland wandered off back to the large square were the smell of stew was emanating.
Not five minutes later (could he catch a break tonight?) footsteps sounded behind him and Robin turned, slowly. Mulan approached him, clad in her heavy fighting gear and sword at her side. Robin had crouched down as soon as his son had left his side. He needed to find Regina, not only for his son but because he couldn't have the Queen wanting him dead for neglect.
The canvas, that had once covered the roof, but was now laying on the hard ground, shimmered slightly. A faint gold powder covered the entire thing. Robin dragged his finger through the powder, raising his hand to his face, and went to sniff it- maybe it would help him to figure out where the Queen had gone. "Don't!" Mulan cried, she jumped forward and pushed his hand away. "Don't this is crushed poppy. It'll put you into a deep sleep, not unlike the apples our missing Queen favoured." Mulan dropped his wrist and stepped in front of the bandit; examining the almost translucent powder. Her gloved hand slid over the canvas; a perplexed expression covering her face like a blanket, as if the powder and its origin confused her. "You can only get this in one place," she began, the first part of her sentence coming out in a huff. "How it got here I don't know. The field it's from is a good day trek from here-" Robin held up his hand, halting her mid-sentence. "We can't leave her. Gather the best fighters and notify the Charmings." Mulan nodded whilst adjusting her armour before striding out of the wreckage.
Robin supposed he should follow her out, even make an announcement; tell people that the former evil Queen is missing. He wonders what the reception to that news would be, would they cheer, cry, shrug and move on? None of those felt suitable to Robin; he wanted her back so his son would feel safe again, but in all honesty he wanted her back because he had grown used to her complaints about the woods; as the days had gone on he had found himself loosening more around her and had noticed how she smiled only for him. She hadn't even burnt him to a crisp when he would sarcastically call her 'Your Majesty'.
He stood up, his knees protesting after being bent in a crouch for so long. "Let's go find Her Highness." He breathed out loud- so only the tress could hear the hollowness to his voice; it wasn't the same, mocking her when she wasn't around to hear.
Robin's best fighters were gathered around him in a lose circle, but it wasn't him they were listening to. Mulan had taken the lead and briefed his team on the dangers they may face on the trek; his job was just to hand out small scraps of fabric, Mulan had ordered him to find some in order for his troops not to fall under the sleeping curse.
The Charmings walked up beside him, Snow tapping his shoulder to gain his attention. Her and her prince had had a lengthy discussion about Snow accompanying the rescue group. Her protests were loud and mostly included the phrase, "I'm four months pregnant not an invalid!" To which Robin couldn't help but snigger at- it was something he imagine Regina would shout at him if she ever fell pregnant. The mental image of her belly swelled with his child and his hand comforting her as the future bandit kicked away, put a smile on his face- wait, what? Where on earth did that come from? She had only just started referring to him as Robin not 'Bandit' or 'Thief' whenever she wanted something from him. It was a long way off before he would be in a place to court her- if he ever found her that was. Mulan's speech drew to a close and his Merry Men scattered, all picking up their preferred weapon and walking to the opening in the trees that lead out of the camp. Robin pulled on his own quiver and picked up the bow that had been an extension of his arm for as long as he could hold one. The trees of the Enchanted Forest welcomed him into their arms as he jogged to catch up.
Regina signed as she felt another tear rip across her outfit. She didn't particularly like the dress but keeping it looking nice was a necessity- she was a Queen and dammit if she wanted to look nice, even if she was imprisoned. She didn't even want to contemplate what her hair must look like, she had no access to a brush and her magic didn't work in the steel cage, so her hair had suffered, drastically.
She hadn't a clue as to how long she had been in the confines of the cage; she had long since given up clocking the grinding metal every hour. She had long since given up hope of a rescue. It wasn't as if any of the encampment cared. Regina had hoped that maybe little Roland, with his little dimples in his cheek, that she could fit her little finger in, had raised the call; or that maybe Roland's father, the roguishly handsome bandit that he was might try to find her. But after a few days (weeks? Months?) of imaging scenarios in which he may burst in, and no such occurrence, she had given up hope. No one cared for her and would much rather she rot here than have to work up the energy to actually care for the former villain.
The regular metal clanging rang above her head and as it did, so did a puff of green smoke. The smog, which smelt too sickly sweet, cleared and in its place was a healthy sized portion of bread and a tankard of water. This happened three times a day, always as the metal clanged and always out of nowhere. No one ever appeared, and there were never any clues as to why or who had captured her. She grabbed at the bread and guzzled the water down, not worrying about the drops that rolled down the side of her mouth- there was no one to see the former poised leader act like a savage anyway, no once cared about her so why should she try to look prestine? Fuck the dress too.
Once she had drunk the entirety of the tankard (in almost one gulp) down, she lazily wiped her sleeved arm over her mouth. She lived for this, she hated to admit it, but her entire existence had slowly whittled down to these meals. It was the only thing that broke the darkness.
Moving back, her heel caught on the hem of her dress; making her fall back against the cold, steel bars of the cage. Her head snapped back and hit the cage with a sickeningly loud crack. The edges of her vision began to waver and dots appeared in her vision, before it went black.
She didn't know how long she had been absent from the waking world but her eyes felt heavy and gritty when she pried them open. More light then usual flooded her prison. The bright light flooded in from a hole that had been blasted in the rock, to the left of her. Her place of imprisonment turned out to resemble a deep cave and, Regina realised with a start, that a huge carcass rested not two feet from her left. The huge rib bone stood taller than herself. "Maleficent," Regina whispered out, grief flooding her quiet voice. The way her life ended was a dreadful one and although they were not on the best of terms at her end, Maleficent was one of her only friends back during her reign. But, if Maleficent was here, it meant that Regina had somehow travelled back to Storybrooke during her imprisonment.
She allowed a tear for her fallen friend to pass down her face before she called out; hoping the perpetrator of the hole was still around to hear her. Her voice was hoarse and weak from days (or weeks) of no use. Regina coughed, trying to clear the roughness from it before she tried calling for help again. Shouts could be heard through the hole and soon a group of people were clambering though and towards her.
Regina was shocked, people she never thought would spare her the time of day, were running towards her, trying to figure out a way to get her out and most looked relieved to finally be able to say she was safe. Emma, the blonde haired former pain in Regina's arse, lifted her hand and with a smile and a wave, lifted the metal from around Regina's sunken, cowering body. People: a now not pregnant Mary Margaret; a baggy eyed David Nolan; the smiling saviour; the one handed wonder; and the bandit rushed towards her. Hands pulled her into their embrace and she felt warm once again. She thought she'd never feel this welcomed or loved by anyone as she did by these people around her, surprisingly she felt at home with this small group of people, whom once resented her and her the same to them.
Emma pulled her forward and away from the place she had spent gods knows how long in. Mary Margaret rushed forward once again, with tears in her eyes and pulled Regina in for another hug. There was a time where Regina would have rather strung her up by her innards than hug her but she now accepted the embrace; before pulling away and letting them lead her out. Robin, or the Bandit as she had taken to calling him, stayed at the back with her. Regina's hands itched to hold his, and to be quite frank she didn't know why. Yes, he and his son (and of course her own) had been the only things keeping her sane in that cage, but she didn't know if he returned her confusing feelings. Why would he, she was the reason he had spent years running in the woods. She was the reason many innocents were dead.
Robin smiled down at her; the scruff on his chin seemed longer than she remembered; again she itched to run her fingers over him. Regina hadn't noticed before but his face too held the dimples his son's did. It was a small bit of child cuteness in his otherwise all grown up, forest roughened face.
When the group emerged from the cave and into the light Regina finally realised were she had been held, the clock tower come library, situated in Storybrooke. Of course, that was the only place that could hold that musty smell.
Regina felt small hands clamp around her thigh, as soon as she stepped outside the library door. "Gina!" a small voice called from below her tattered skirt, "Gina!" A smile cracked its way onto her worn face.
"I wonder who on earth that could be," she called out; the smile evident in her voice. She pretended not to feel the small hands tap her calves or pick up her skirts.
"It's me, Gina; it's me, Roland," the little brunette boy ran around her smiling widely, the dimples, so alike his father's, indenting his small face. "I misst you," he said as he ran towards her. Regina forgot about the grime that coated her and the state of her hair as the little boy threw himself at her. She smiled at the boy and cuddled him further in to her arms, as she stood on the doorstep of the library.
Regina looked up from Rolands small body to see Henry run towards her, his arms outstretched and welcoming.
He felt warm as he held her, 'oh how the roles have reversed', she thought; not long ago it had been her job to hold him like this; comforting him like this after he had had a particularly nasty nightmare. It felt nice to have Henry back in her life and, obviously he remembered her, why else would he hug her so. Henry let go and stepped back; Roland hugged her tightly, his head resting in the crook of her neck. The rescue party smiled at her as she thanked them for helping her. She didn't want to know, at that moment, who had held her captive or why. All she wanted to do was continue to feel the heat emanating from the hand on her back. A hand she was sure belonged to a certain bandit.