One of my lovely SF guest reviewers on my "Swanfire One-Shots" requested I try my hand at a SwanFire Tangled AU. This is it! I hope you enjoy, and leave me a comment!
"'A child born of true love'?" Regina repeated incredulously. "That's what you're telling me, a child born of true love?"
"Yep," the imp nodded, his hands behind his back. "If you want to stay young and beautiful, you're going to need magic, sweetheart. And you're not going to find a better source of magic than the product of true love. Believe me—I've seen the future, and honey, it gets ugly if you don't do this." He leaned in confidentially, raising his eyebrows. "Really ugly."
"Oh—" Regina anxiously touched a hand to her face. She had been the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom for as far back as anyone could remember…and it was slowly starting to dwindle. Pretty girls were popping up every day, with faces as sweet and fresh as roses; Regina, meanwhile, was fighting a battle with her looming seniority. Forty wasn't old…but it wasn't young, either. She had tried spells, herbs, special diets—none of it was working. The wrinkles kept coming, the hair kept graying…Rumplestiltskin was her last chance.
The creature—whatever he was, funny little man—was skilled in the ways of magic, and had an ear for gossip. He knew things others didn't, found loopholes and solutions for any problem you presented him, conjured a potion for every woe and worry—
But he had nothing for aging.
All he had was a suggestion.
Fine. She'd take it.
But true love?
"What does that even mean, true love?" Regina asked helplessly, dropping her hand. "Where the hell am I supposed to find that?"
"You're in luck," Rumple said, holding up a finger. "There's a kingdom about a day's journey from here—very nice place, very classy—and the queen and king are nauseatingly in love. Still. After marriage and everything. Marriage," he snorted. "Let me tell you something about marriage. My wife—"
"Yeah, no, I don't care about that," Regina frowned, shaking her head. "Tell me about this king and queen."
"Well, they've got a new baby girl," Rumple said. "A product of true love, so to speak. You get your hands on that baby, and you've got enough magic to keep you looking like a hot twenty-something for the rest of your life."
"Ooh, I like that," Regina smiled, relishing the words hot twenty-something. "So, what do I do? Put the kid in a potion and dab twice daily or something?"
"No," Rumple said, raising an eyebrow at her readiness to sacrifice a baby for its anti-wrinkling-benefits. "You've got to keep magic alive for it to keep working. It's a treatment, not a cure. You're going to have to keep this kid alive and well, if you want to look alive and well—and not like a decrepit old granny."
"How dare you!" Regina gasped, putting a hand to her heart. "Don't you ever say anything like that again!"
"Oh, does motherhood scare you so, Regina?" Rumple asked dryly.
"No, the part about being a—a—you know!" Regina folded her arms tightly across her chest, glaring at the floor as she paced. "Okay," she said grimly. "Looks like I'm going to have to learn how to braid pigtails. I'm getting that baby girl. Tonight."
It was actually a lot easier than she thought it was going to be.
Regina had drawn up this whole plan, about sneaking past the guards, maybe slicing a few throats, scaling the wall outside the princess's tower…Actually, all she had to do was knock on the door, and one of the kitchen boys let her in. He couldn't have been older than six or seven, but Regina quailed under his direct stare.
"Yeah?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Uh—hey," she said, feeling awkward with the heavy black cloak covering her face. "I'm, uh…I'm the fairy godmother."
The boy looked completely nonplussed. "Okay."
"So…I was just going to go in there, and do some….fairy godmotherly things."
"Okay."
"Okay." Regina scooted past him, keeping her face down. "Thanks."
She hovered in the hall for a moment, looking around at the vast stone room. And this was just the foyer. How the hell was she supposed to find a nursery, if she couldn't even find her way out of the damn parlor?
"Excuse me, little boy," she said, calling the kid back. "But I don't suppose you could help me find the nursery? Fair godmothers have no sense of direction."
"Okay," he shrugged.
She followed him down a hall, through a few turns, up a couple staircases…there.
"Oh, wow," she said, blinking. Even if she hadn't brought him along, she'd've been able to find it. It was impossible to miss: it had a huge pink banner with the words It's A Girl! printed across it in obnoxiously big letters, plus balloon and streamers, and confetti scattered on the floor. Regina let out a low whistle as she gently tugged at the door.
"Come on," she muttered. "Damn! Locked."
"Here," the boy said, pulling two thin metal rods out of his pocket. He stuck them in the lock and wiggled them, listening intently. "It's all in the tumblers," he explained in a loud whisper.
Regina's eyebrows rose. "Thanks, kid."
"'S'nothing," he shrugged, the lock clicking as he turned the handle. "There you go."
Regina patted his head, smiling. "You've been very helpful," she told him, and swept into the room.
She walked slowly toward the lavishly decorated cradle (it had a canopy and everything), and lifted the curtain to peer inside at the little girl. She was so sweet-looking, with a little rosebud mouth and tufts of blonde hair….It was very easy to believe she had magic pulsing through her veins.
Regina picked her up gingerly, smiling uncertainly as she held the squirmy little baby to her chest. God, this was weird. Babies seemed to have springs in them, that allowed them to stretch from side to side, curl their backs, wriggle around like a worm—
"Okay, hon," she muttered, grimacing. "Stop—settle down, now—oh, come on, just go back to sleep!"
She sighed heavily as the baby gave her a grumpy look and wiggled a little more shaking her fists. "You're going to be trouble, I can tell," Regina told her. "Motherhood will be the death of me."
