I own no one but my own people
"Keep your elbow bent slightly, and relax your bow arm," Robin said as he kneeled beside his child. "Look down the arrow. Good lad. Now steady your breath and fire."
Roland released the small bow his father had made for him, the arrow traveling a few feet before it sank into the soft damp ground.
It had stormed the night before and now a light but steady rain swept over the Enchanted forest. When Robin gifted Roland the bow, he made a promise to his son that rain or shine, day or night, if he asked his father to practice with him, Robin would practice with him.
Which was how the famous thief found himself outside in the rain in the Courtyard, a brisk air so sharp he could see his breath when he spoke.
The Merry Men who had gathered to watch their leader teach his son to shoot an arrow all chuckled at the attempt.
Although none of the laughter was cruel, Roland still pouted when it reached his ears.
"Which one of you was a marksman at three?" asked Robin, effectively silencing the crowd. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Keep practicing, Roland. One day, you'll be able to outshoot any man in Sherwood Forest."
"Yes, Papa."
Robin handed him another arrow, the tip intentionally blunted so the toddler wouldn't hurt himself, it was truthfully nothing more than a well sanded stick, and Roland set it in his bow once more.
"Step apart a little bit more," one of Robins men, Alan A-Dale, told the boy. "Your feet should be shoulder length apart."
"Keep both eyes open, Little Lord," Friar Tuck added.
Roland struggled to remember all the advice his father and the Merry Men were telling him as he looked another arrow, getting as little success as the first time.
"Well he at least shoots better than Little John," another man said, earning loud laughter from the group, including Robin, that had gathered to watch Roland. Even the curly hair boy grinned at the friendly jibe towards the groups resident punching bag.
But the large man was more than willing to take the hits of it meant the comments weren't directed at his Godson.
Robin was about to hand his son another arrow when a familiar voice rang out.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
The group of men and the toddler turned and watched the Queen storm up to the outlaws. Robin just raised an amused brow at the surly brunette as he stood up from his kneeling position on the ground.
Her sharp daggered heels somehow, Robin guessed magic, managed to stay above the damp grass without sinking into the mud, a black lace umbrella in her hand to keep the offending drops of moisture off her.
"Your Majesty," Robin greeted the brunette with a low bow that was made in jest, confirmed by the snickers of his men. Regina glared at the insolence of the thief. "My son wanted to practice his bow so my Merry Men and I are out here teaching him."
"He is three. Years. Old. What is he even doing with a bow in the first place?"
"He wanted to learn," answered Robin with a careless shrug as if that was a good enough excuse.
"He's a child!"
"He's just as much a Merry Men as the rest of them."
"Secondly," said an irate Regina, ignoring the excuse as well as the murmured agreements from the rest of the men, "it's pouring out! He's going to get sick and I don't know if you hadn't noticed but the Enchanted Forest is a little short on Children's Tylenol!"
"On what?"
"It doesn't matter, what matters is you're going to get your son sick!"
Now Robin's anger was starting to boil over. Who was she to tell him how to raise his child?
His blue eyes hardened as he took a step towards her.
"He'll be fine, Your Majesty."
She countered with her own bold step.
"No, actually, he won't, Thief."
They both spat out the labels for the other as if if it were poison on their tongues, as if his chosen profession and her royal title had disqualified the other from commenting on the health of a child.
"He's my son," said Robin, as if that should end any topic of conversation regarding him. As if on cue Roland grabbed hold of his father's leg and buried his head in it. Robin so infrequently would raise his voice, especially when Roland was in earshot, that on the rare occasions he did Roland would cling to his father and hide his face, as if that would protect him from whoever Robin would be shouting at.
Robin closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath to keep himself from being anymore harsh with her.
"I am forever grateful for you for saving him," said Robin once his voice has mellowed some. "But you don't get to decide anything regarding what I teach him or how for that matter. You are not his mother."
Regina glared furiously at the thief before she whipped back around, her long ponytail itting the thief in the face before she stormed back to the palace.
"Why couldn't we have gone back to Sherwood Forest?" Little John grumbled once the sound of a slamming castle door echoed in the courtyard. "Why did we have to stay here? With her?"
The group all muttered in agreement.
"I owe Regina a debt," Robin told his best friend and the rest of his men, all of whom the leader knew wanted to go back to their simple comfortable lives of tents and trees and forests.
Robin wanted to go back to his home as well but he couldn't very well leave the woman who had saved his son to fall victim to this other sorceress.
"Stone walls are no place for outlaws," Alan argued. "We don't belong here, Robin. You got her into the castle, you paid your debt."
"There's still the matter of a green skinned witch and her winged simian army," said Robin, knowing that his men were far more apt to honor their commitments when it could mean death if they disobeyed. "As much as we hate it, and as much as the Queen hates it, this castle is the safest place for us."
Still sensing the discontent of his men Robin continued. "The moment they figure out how to defeat her, we'll go back to Sherwood Forest. I promise."
That did it. If there was a single thing every last Merry Men knew about their leader it was that he never broke his promises.
So the short lived rebellion died just as soon as it began and they all went back to watching Roland shoot the weapon his father was so well known for.
Their lesson was cut short when they heard a deep thunder rolling in and Robins keen eyes caught a distant flash of lightning far off in the distance.
Robin picked up the small boy and carried him back in the palace, all of them dripping wet and soaked through to the bone.
"You did very well today, my boy," Robin praised him. "I'm proud of you."
"I didn't hit the target once, Papa."
"But you never gave up. It was your third time ever shooting a bow in your life. Even I started out where you are once."
"That's right, Little Lord," Tuck, who had been the one to train his Lord and Lady's son in the way of the bow what felt like forever ago, said. "Your father didn't hit his first bullseye until he was seven."
What Tuck has conveniently forgotten to mention was after two single lessons, Robin was hitting the bullseye consistently. He just happened to be seven years old when he picked up a bow for the first time.
But Roland didn't need to know that.
Knowing that his own father had troubles with the bow as well, Roland perked up considerably.
Dinner that night was roast wild boar, the beast having been shot down by Robin himself. The outlaw insisted that he and his men were the ones to hunt down the game for the castle. Half the reason was to give them something to do so their boredom didn't overwhelm them and the other half was to assure they would have a leg to stand on if Robin ever angered the Queen to the point she told them they weren't allowed to eat 'her' food or criticized them for the amount they took.
"Where's the Queen?" Robin asked the princess and prince when he noticed the empty seat at the head of the table. "Will she be joining us tonight?"
"She said she wasn't feeling well," said Snow as she avoided his meeting his eyes.
Robin raised his brow at the pixie haired princess. For a man who never lied, he could still spot a lie from a thousand leagues away.
"How about the truth, Your Majesty?"
Snow shifted uncomfortably in the chair before;
"She said she would rather jump off the top of the West tower than dine with you."
The men surrounding the leader laughed and Robin put on an air of bravado, as if he too found the fact that he had annoyed the woman who had offered them her home to the point she couldn't stand to be around him hilarious.
But the moment his men began talking about what their plans for tomorrow's hunt were and none were looking at him, any smirk the thief wore fell flat.
He hadn't meant to offend the Queen, he hadn't meant to upset her.
Truth be told he had grown rather fond of the Queen. Not that he would ever admit to outloud even to himself. But she was so different than the other women in this realm. She spoke her mind, she didn't sugar coat things, she could give back a jibe as good as she got, she felt things deeper than anyone he had ever met…
Regina reminded him of Marian in that way, only the Queen seemed to take that, and really every, aspect of her personality up to an eleven.
After dinner the men disappeared to the various bedrooms they all claimed while Robin tucked Roland in the room just opposite his.
"You say your prayers?"
Robin and his Merry Men were one of the only ones in this realm who didn't believe in a plethora of Gods, those who lived in Camelot being the other notable exceptions. None of his men were fanatics of course, but they all listened intently to Friar Tucks sermons on Sunday morning and they all bowed their heads before a heist.
"Yes, Papa."
"Did you forget anyone?"
Roland shook his head. "I said it for you and Uncle John and Friar Tuck and the rest of the men. Than Princess Snow, Prince David, Granny, the dwarves, and especially Gina."
Robin cocked his head to the side as he looked down at his son. "Why especially the Queen?"
"Because she needs it most. She cries a lot."
Robin's face fell at the new information. Since when did the fiery Queen show any emotion other than contempt for him or his men.
"Roland, what do you mean she cries a lot? What happened?"
"She misses her little boy," Roland answered. "She misses being a Mama."
"How do you know this? Did she tell you?"
A shake of his head.
"She thinks she's crying in private but I can hear it." Roland looked up towards the ceiling with Robins sight following.
Of course. Roland's room was directly underneath the Queens chambers and the castle had been designed with elegance and style in mind rather than warmth, it was the summer palace after all, so they hadn't made the floors that thick.
It would be easy to overhear a conversation one wasn't supposed to hear. Or tears.
Roland would have heard everything Regina preferred to keep private.
Tomorrow Robin would have to find a new room for his son to sleep on.
"Why don't you get some sleep?" Robin said, wanting to end this particular conversation as quickly as possible. "You get a good night's rest," the archer told his son as he bright the soft fur blanket up to his neck, "and tomorrow we'll practice with your bow some more."
"Yes, Papa."
Robin kissed his son's forehead, gently stroked his curls, blew out the candle near his bedside and walked out of the room and made his way into his own bedroom across the hall.
Regina was crying, sobbing, all alone in a pitch black room. So black Robin couldn't even see her but he knew she was there in the room.
He wanted to help her. He wanted to end her suffering, he wanted to stop her misery but he couldn't figure out a way to do that. Then all of a sudden he held a torch in his hand and a flint in the other.
Regina begged him to light the torch. She pleaded with him to just give her even a small amount of light that the flames would provide, to just give her some way to be able to see, to just give her some warmth and light in this dark dreary room.
Robin knew that if he didn't find a way to light the torch and soon, the Queen would die...
"Robin! Robin! Mate, you gotta wake up!"
Robin Hood's eyes flew open as he felt someone shaking him hard.
"Get up, Robin!"
He quickly sat up in the bed, dawn's early light streaming through the window giving him just enough light to be able to see who was in his chambers with him.
"Whassgoingon?" he asked Little John as he tried to lift the fogginess of sleep from his brain. "Whats happened?"
"It's Roland," said the Merry Man, fright hitching in his voice. "He's sick."
Robin had never moved as fast in his life. He sprinted out of bed, not even bothering with pulling on a shirt and instead just yanked his Brown rough spun pants hastily on before he ran out of the room and into his son's.
"Whats happened?" Robin demanded the Friar who was kneeling by Roland's bedside.
Roland was laying down in the bed that was far too big for him, struggling to pull in a breath and what breaths he did have were short and raspy. His nightshirt was soaked through with sweat and a puddle of vomit was next to his pillow. The stuffed monkey that Regina had given him clutched to his chest and a rag with cold water was on top of his forehead.
"Papa," Roland gasped out as Robin raced to his bedside and held his hand. He was burning up with a fever.
He was so weak.
"Everything's alright, son," said Robin softly, trying his hardest not to let his fear and panic shine through, as well as his guilt.
Regina had warned him. She warned him his son would be sick and now here he was, burning with fever and each breath a struggle.
This was all Robin's fault.
"I got up to start the fires for the coffee," John told his leader. "I heard him get sick and when I came in he was like this."
John's words barely registered with the thief. His son was sick, he may be dying and it was all his fault.
"Can you fix him?" Robin asked the clergyman, and also their resident healer, as he pushed back his son's sopping wet hair. "Do we have any herbs or potions?"
"We have a root that can bring down the fever but the cough and the wheezing, the nausea… I've never seen anything like this before, My Lord."
By now the rest of the castle was bustling with the early risers, including some of Robin's own men. They heard the commotion in their leaders son's room and had made their way into the small boy's room. All of them were asking what had happened to the lad but Robin ignored them all. His only focus was his son.
"Papa," Roland groaned softly, as if every word caused him pain. "I'm scared…"
"For what?" asked Robin, trying his best to remain as nonchalant as possible. His son didn't need to know the most intelligent man Robin knew had no idea what was wrong with him. "It's just a bug, my boy, you're going to be fine. There's nothing to be scared of."
Before the small boy could answer he coughed a violent dry cough that sounded as if it wanted to rip him in two.
Robin's heart pounded harder against his ribs with each gasping breath the boy took. He had to think clearly, he had to calm down and be rational, he-...
He had to get Regina.
"The Queen," he said out loud to the men. "Someone go get Regina, tell her what's happened, she has magic she can help him."
Usually when Robin gave an order there was no shortage of men hurrying to obey it. This time though it was as if he hadn't spoken at all.
"Did you hear what I said?!" Robin shouted. He never, EVER, raised his voice at his men, not unless he found out one of them had stolen for themselves. But this was his son. All bets were off. "Someone go get the Queen!"
"What if she caused this?" Alan spoke up. "What if she poisoned him or cast a spell on him?"
Robin shook his head. Regina wouldn't do that, she wouldn't cast a spell on a young boy, she wouldn't hurt an innocent three year old. Maybe the Queen from before the curse but not now. She had the touch of a mother, she felt the love of a child.
She also felt the pain of a loss of a child and Robin knew even she wouldn't be evil enough to inflict that same pain on someone else.
"Go get the Queen," he demanded. "One of you, right now, or you can all take your chances outside the castle walls with the witch."
Little John was the one who left the room in the end. His heavy footsteps echoed down the stone corridor as he hurried down the hall and up the stairs to where the Queen's chambers laid.
"Your Majesty?" the Merry Man who was also second in commands voice floated easily through the ceiling.
Roland was right, it was easy to hear what happened in the Queen's bedroom. "Your Majesty, you need to wake up. Your Majes-."
A loud crash that sounded suspiciously like Little John being thrown across the room with magic.
"What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?!" they all heard the Queen yell.
"It's Roland!" John's voice was strained and Robin had a feeling that his best friend was experiencing the same magical choking maneuver the Queen had used on him when he pulled an arrow on her. "He's sick! Robin- Robin needs your help to heal him!"
Not even half a second later a burst of purple smoke appeared in Roland's bedroom and the Queen, dressed in in a floor length black silk robe rather than her tight constricting leather corsets, her long black hair hung down almost to her waist rather than up in the elaborate hairdos and her face was clear of any makeup.
To the thief, she had never looked more beautiful.
Regina wasted no time as she pushed through the men and went over to the boy's bedside. She put the back of her hand to his forehead for a moment.
"How long has he been like this?" she asked as she stroked the damp hair from his pale face.
"I don't know," Robin admitted. "John woke me up about ten minutes ago and he was like this. Can you heal him?"
Regina ignored the question as she laid her head down on the boy's chest.
"Regina, can you heal him?" Robin asked again, a bit of panic in his voice.
"I'm trying to figure that out, but I need quiet."
The response took the thief aback. Not the words themselves but the manner in which she said it. She was calm and quiet and collected, gentle and, dare he say it, kind. A total 180 from every other time she talked to Robin or his men.
After another moment of laying her head on his chest she sat up, looking at Robin.
"He has pneumonia," she told him. "You can hear the crackling in his lungs, Henry used to get it when he was a child."
"Can you fix him?"
Regina swallowed hard before she stood up from her spot beside the bed and turned to look at the desperate thief. "I can. But I need you to trust me absolutely."
"Robin don't," Alan pleaded before the thief could answer. "We can't trust the Evil Queen, what if she caused this? What if she poisoned your son, what if she makes it worse? Don't trust her."
Regina looked down at the floor beneath her feet.
"Robin, I didn't-."
"Get out," said Robin.
The brunette swallowed hard as she started to leave the room but before she had even taken half a step Robin reached out and gently grabbed hold of her hand.
"Not you," he told the Queen before he turned towards Alan. "You. Get out. Now."
"She's going to kill your son!"
"I said leave, Alan. Now!"
Alan glared at his leader for a moment.
"If the boy dies, be it on your head!"
With those words hanging over the crowd he turned and stormed out of the room.
"Do what you need to do, Your Majesty," said Robin. "Save my son."
Regina gave a curt nod before she put her hand over his chest. Soft blue light came from her hands as she moved them slowly over Roland's chest, drawing out the black wisps of smoke from his tiny body.
She did it twice more before Roland settled back down into the bed, comfortably asleep.
"It's out of him," said Regina to the the watching group as she stroked Roland's curls. "He's gonna be fine, but that much magic takes a lot of someone, he's going to need rest and fluids. I'll tell Granny to get started on a nice chicken soup when she wakes up. It was my son's favorite when he was sick, I'm sure Roland would love it as well."
"Thank you," Robin told her, as much emotion and truth as he could put into words. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Well since you're already in my debt for saving him once, why not double the payment?" She gave him a half hearted smile before she cleared her throat. "If you excuse me, it's not even the break of dawn and if you think I'm evil now, wait until you see me without a full eight hours."
None of the men stopped her as she left the room. Robin looked after her for a moment before he turned towards the good Friar.
"Will you-?"
"Of course, My Lord. If he wakes I'll come get you at once."
Robin gave his cleric a smile before he turned and followed the Queen out of the bedroom.
"Your Majesty!" He called out to the Queen who stopped and turned towards him.
"He's just sleeping, I promise."
"No, I- I know. I wanted to thank you for saving my son a second time. I also wanted to apologize for how I acted yesterday, if I had listened to you about him being sick-."
"He didn't get sick because of the rain," Regina interrupted. As much as she appreciated the apology she wasn't about to allow a man to believe he had caused the near death of his son. "It's a bacterial infection, he could have caught it from a thousand different things."
Robin felt the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders at the Queen's confession. He hadn't caused his boy's illness after all.
"You're actually not the one who needs to apologize for earlier." Regina shrugged. "You're right, I'm not his mother. I'm… no one's mother. I'm just the 'Evil Queen' here. I shouldn't have said anything."
Robin's face fell at the Queen's confession. The pain in her statement was as real as any he had ever seen.
"You are someone's mother, Regina," said Robin softly.
"No I'm not. Henry is somewhere living with Emma and he doesn't know I every exist. He thinks I'm just some made up fairytale character who wants to kill Snow White because I'm jealous of her." Tears flooded her brown eyes. "Even if he had all his memories, I'm still not-... Emma is his real mother. The Charmings made sure to drill that into me plenty of times."
Robin wasn't quite sure what led him to do this but he reached forward and took hold of her hands.
"You are Henry's mother. You are more his mother than this Emma Swan person is."
"She gave birth to him."
"You raised him. From what you've told me of him, you did an amazing job bringing up this smart kind boy… If you were Roland's mother, I would thank God everyday that he had you. Even if he isn't here with you, you will always be his mother, Regina,
Regina swallowed hard as she looked up into the deep blue ocean of his eyes. He looked at her so differently than everyone else, even Snow and Charming, the two people she had grown closest too. She still saw the occasional fear when she lost her temper.
But not Robin. He looked at her no different than anyone else. He treated her like Regina, not some Evil Queen he was supposed to be terrified of.
"It's funny," she said with a softness. He leaned in closer to hear her words. "Peasants used to hide their children when they merely heard rumors that the Evil Queen was coming to their village. They were terrified of what I would do to them. So… so why did you let me save your sons life?"
"Like I said before… you have the touch of a mother. And I trust you."
A rare elusive smile showed itself to the thief. "You do?"
"Yes." Another step closer. "With all my heart."
Regina couldn't breathe as the Outlaw and the Queen looked at one another for what could have been a lifetime or a moment in time.
Too slowly and too fast all at once Robin brought his soft lips against hers, soft and gentle.
Regina kissed him back, wrapping her arms around the man and pulling him in closer.
Robin smiled against her lips as he pulled away for a moment.
"What?" Regina breathed, desperate to feel his lips against hers once more.
"Nothing, I just… I'm gonna have to take my son out in the rain shooting far more often."
With a roll of her eyes Regina just grabbed hold of the thief and kissed him again.